LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY Mr. H. H. KMiani 11CSB LIBRARY OB. A BAYARD TAYLOR N JEDttion THE WORKS OF BAYARD TAYLOR VOLUME II ELDORADO THE STORY OF KENNETT G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND <&t Juwkcrbockrr 'Qttss ELDORADO OR ADVENTURES IN THE PATH OF EMPIRE (MEXICO AND CALIFORNIA) BAYARD TAYLOR AUTHOR'S REVISED EDITION Enteied, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by BAYARD TAYLOR, m the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. COPYRIGHT BY MARIE TAYLOR 1882 TO EDWARD F. BEALE, LIEUT., U. S. N. THIS WORK IS DEDICATED WITH THE AUTHOR'S ESTEEM AND AFFECTION PREFACE. THIS work requires but few words in the way of introduction Though t.ho author's purpose in visiting California was not to write i book, the circumstances of his journey seemed to impose it upon him as a duty, and all his observations were made with this end in view. The condition of California, during the latter half of the year 1849, was as transitory as it was marvellous ; the records which were then made can never be made again. Seeing so much that was worthy of being described so many curious and shifting phases of society such examples of growth and progress, most wonderful in their first stage in a word, the entire construction of a new and sovereign State, and the establishment of a great ommercial metropolis on the Pacific coast the author suffered no opportunity to pass, which might qualify him to preserve thei fleeting images. A.S he was troubled by no dreams of gold, and took no part in exciting schemes of trade, he has hoped to give an impartial coloring to the picture. His impressions of Califor- nia are those of one who went to see and write, and who sough* ffifi PREFACE to do both faithfully. Whatever may be the faults of his work be trusts this endeavor will be recognized. A portion, only, of the pages which follow, were included in the original letters which appeared in the columns of the New-York Tribune. Many personal incidents, and pictures of society as it then existed in California, noted down at the . time, have been added, and a new form given to the materials obtained. The account of the author's journey across Mexico, is now published for the first time. If, when a new order of things has been established and what has occurred is looked upon as a phenomenon of the Past, some of these pages should be preserved as a record and reinembrai.ct thereof, the object of this work will be fully accomplished. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. ?m Heir York to Chagres The Shores of Florida Night In Havana (I art or New Orleans Chagres from the Sea I CHAPTER II. Crossing the T arture of the cholera NEW ORLEANS. 7 and the arrival of the yellow fever. The crevasse, by which hall the city had lately been submerged, was closed, but the eflect* of the inundation were still perceptible in frequent pools of stand- ing water, and its scenes daily renewed by incessant showera The rain came down, " not from one lone cloud," but is if a thousand cisterns had been stove in at once. In half an hour after a shower commenced, the streets were navigable, the hack-horsep splashing their slow way through the flood, carrying home a few drenched unfortunates. The Falcon was detained four days, which severely tested the emper of iny impatient shipmates I employed the occasional gleams of clear weather in rambling over the old French and Spanish quarters, riding on the Lafayette Railroad or driving out the Shell Road to the cemetery, where the dead are buried above ground. The French part of the city is unique and interesting All the innovation is confined to the American Municipalities, which resemble the business parts of our Northern cities. The curious one-storied dwellings, with jalousies and tiled roofs, of the last century, have not been disturbed in the region below Canal street. The low houses, where the oleander and crape myrtle still look over the walls, were once inhabited by the luxurious French planters, but now display such signs as " Magazin des Modes," " Au bon marche," or " Perrot, Coiffeur." Some oi the more pretending mansions show the porte cochere and heavy barred windows of the hotels of Paris, and the common taverns, with their smoky aspect and the blue blouses that fill them, are exact counterparts of some I have seen in the Rue St. Antoine The body of the Cathedral, standing at the head of the Place d 1 Armes, was torn down, and workmen were employed in building a prison in its stead ; but the front, with its venerable tower and e ELDORADO. refreshing appearance of antiquity, will remain, hiding bchiud its changeless face far different passions and darker spectacles than in the Past. The hour of departure at length arrived. The levee opposite our anchorage, in Lafayette City, was thronged with a noisy mul- titude, congregated to witness the embarcation of a hundred and fifty additional passengers. Our deck became populous with tall, gaunt Mississipians and Arkansans, Missouri squatters who had pulled up their stakes yet another time, and an ominous numbei of professed gamblers. All were going to seek their fortunes in California, but very few had any definite idea of the country or the voyage to be made before reaching it. There were among them some new varieties of the American long, loosely-jointed men, with large hands and feet and limbs which would still be awkward, whatever the fashion of their clothes. Their faces were lengthened, deeply sallow, overhung by straggling locks of straight black hair, and wore an expression of settled melancholy. The corners of their mouths curved downwards, the upper lip drawn slightly over the under one, giving to the lower part of the face that cast of destructiveness peculiar to the Indian. These men chewed tobacco at a ruinous rate, and spent their time either in lozing at full length on the deck or going into the fore-cabin for 1 drinks.' Each one of them carried arms enough for a small ~unpany and breathed defiance to all foreigners. We had a voyage of seven days, devoid of incident, to the Isthmus. During the fourth night we passed between Cuba and Yucatan. Then, after crossing the mouth of the Gulf of Hon- duras, where we met the south-eastern trades, and running the gauntlet of a cluster of coral keys, for the navigation of which no chart can be positively depended upon, we came into the deep CMAGRES, FROM THE SEA. I water of tie Caribbean Sea. The waves ran high undei a duL rain and raw wind, more like Newfoundland weather than the tropics. On the morning of the eighth day, we approached land. All hands gathered on deck, peering into the mist for the firvt glimpse of the Isthmus. Suddenly a heavy rain-cloud lifted, nrf 1 fre saw, about five miles distant, the headland of Porto Bello a bold, rocky promontory, fringed with vegetation and washed at its foot by a line of snowy breakers. The range of the Andes of Darien towered high behind the coast, the further summits lost in the rain. Turning to the south-west, we followed the magnificent sweep of hills toward Chagres, passing Navy Bay, the Atlantic terminus of the Panama Railroad. The entrance is narrow, be- tween two bold bluffs, opening into a fine land-locked harbor, surrounded by hills. Chagres lies about eight miles to the west of this bay, but thfl mouth of the river is so narrow that the place is not seen till you run close upon it. The eastern shore is high and steep, cloven with ravines which roll their floods of tropical vegetation down to the sea. The old castle of San Lorenzo crowns the point, occu- pying a position somewhat similar to the Moro Castle at Havana, and equally impregnable. Its brown battlements and embrasures have many a dark and stirring recollection. Morgan and his buccaneers scaled its walls, took and leveled it, after a fight in which all but thirty-three out of three hundred and fourteen do- fenders were slain, some of them leaping madly from the precipice into the sea. Strong as it is by nature, and would be in the hande of an enterprising people, it now looks harmless enough with a few old cannon lyinsr lazily on its ramparts. The other side of the river i3 flat and marshy, and from our place of anchorage we could see the tops of some huts among the trees. 1* 10 ET.DOP.ADO. We came to anchor about half past four. The deck was already covered with luggage and everybody was anxious to leave first. Our captain, clerk, and a bearer of dispatches, were pulled ashore in the steamer's boat, and in the meantime the passengers formed themselves into small companies for the journey up the river. An immense canoe, or " dug-out," manned by half-naked natives hortly came out, and the most of the companies managed to get agents on board to secure canoes for them. The clerk, on his re- tarn, was assailed by such a storm of questions the passengers leaning half-way over the bulwarks in their eagerness for news that for a few minutes he could not make himself heard. When the clamor subsided, he told us that the Pacific steamer would sail from Panama on the 1st of August, and that the only canoes to be had that night were already taken by Captain Hartstein, who was then making his way up the Rio Chagres, in rain and thick darkness. The trunks and blankets were therefore taken below again and we resigned ourselves to another night on board, with a bare chance of sleep in the disordered state-rooms and among the piles of luggage. A heavy cloud on the sea broke out momently into broad scarlet flashes of lightning, surpassing any celestial pyrotechnics I ever witnessed. The dark walls of San Lorenzo, the brilliant clusters of palms on the shore and the green, rolling hills of the interior, leaped at intervals out of tie gloom, as vividly seen as under the noon-day sun. CHAPTER II. CROSSING THE ISTHMUS. I LEFT the Falcon at day-break in the ship's boat. We rounded the high bluff on which the castle stands and found beyond it a shallow little bay, on the eastern side of which, on low ground, stand the cane huts of Chagres. Piling up our luggage on the shore, each one set about searching for the canoes which had been engaged the night previous, but, without a single exception, the natives were not to he found, or when found, had broken theii bargains. Everybody ran hither and thither in great excitement, anxious to be off before everybody else, and hurrying the naked boatmen, all to no purpose. The canoes were beached on the mud, and their owners engaged in re-thatching their covers with split leaves of the palm. The doors of the huts were filled with men and women, each in a single cotton garment, composedly smoking their cigars, while numbers of children, hi Nature's own clothing, tumbled about in the sun. Having started without breakfast, I went to the " Crescent City" Hotel, a hut with a floor to it, but could get nothing. Some of my friends had fared better at one of the native huts, and I sat down to the remains of theii meal, which was spread on a hen-coop beside the door. The piga of the vicinity and several lean dogs surrounded me to offer theii 1'2 ELDORADO. services, but maintained a respectful silence, which is more than could be said of pigs at home. Some pieces of pork fat, with fresh bread and a draught of sweet spring water from a cocoa shell, made me a delicious repast. A returning Californian had just reached the place, with a box containing $22,000 in gold-dust, and a four-pound lump in one h and. The impatience and excitement of the passengers, already at a high pitch, was greatly increased by his appearance. Life and death were small matters compared with immediate departure from Chagres. Men ran up and down the beach, shouting, gesti- culating, and getting feverishly impatient at the deliberate habits of the natives ; as if their arrival in California would thereby be at all hastened. The boatmen, knowing very well that two more steamers were due the next day, remained provokingly cool and unconcerned. They had not seen six months of emigration with- out learning something of the American habit of going at full speed. The word of starting in use on the Chagres River, is " go- ahead !" Captain C and Mr. M , of Baltimore, and myself, were obliged to pay j$15 each, for a canoe to Cruces. We chose a broad, trimly-cut craft, which the boatmen were covering with fresh thatch. We stayed with them until all was ready, and they had pushed it through the mud and shoal water to the bank before Ramos's house. Our luggage was stowed away, we took our seats and raised our umbrellas, but the men had gone off for provisions and were not to be found. All the other canoes were equally in limbo. The sun blazed down on the swampy shores, Mid visions of yellow fever came into the minds of the more timid travelers. The native boys brought to us bottles of fresh water, biscuits and fruit, presenting them with the words : " bit !" " pi caynne !" " Your bread is not good," I said to one of the shirt QUARREL WITH A NATIVE. 13 less traders *'Si, Senor!" was his decided answer, while he tossed back his childish head with a look of offended dignity which charmed mo. While sitting patiently in our craft, I was much diverted by seeing one of our passengers issue from a hut with a native on each arm, and march them resolutely down to the river. Our own men appeared towards noon, with a bag of rice and dried pork, and an armful of sugar-cane. A few strokes of their broad paddles took us from the excitement and noise of the landing-place to the seclusion and beauty of the river scenery. Our chief boatman, named Ambrosio Mendez, was of the mixed Indian and Spanish race. The second, Juan Crispin Bega, be- longed to the lowest class, almost entirely of negro blood. Ho was a strong, jovial fellow, and took such good care of some of our small articles as to relieve us from all further trouble about them. This propensity is common to all of his caste on the Isthmus. In addition to these, a third man was given to us, with the assurance that he would work his passage ; but just as we were leaving, we learned that he wa? a runaway soldier, who had been taken up for theft and was released on paying some sub-alcalde three bottles of liquor, promising to quit the place at once. We were scarcely out of sight of the town before he demanded five dollars a day for his labor. We refused, and he stopped working. Upon our threatening to set him ashore in the jungle, he took up the paddle, but used it so awkwardly and perversely that our other men lost all patience. We were obliged, however, to wait until we could rech Gatun, ten miles distant, before settling matters. Juan struck up " Oh Susanna !" which he sang to a most ludicrous imitation of the words, and I lay back under the palm leaves, looking out of the sterr of the canoe on the forests of the Chagres River 14 5LDORADO. There is nothing iu the world comparable to these forests. No description that I have ever read conveys an idea of the splendid overplus of vegetable life within the tropics. The river, broad, and with a swift current of the sweetest water I ever drank, wind* between walls of foliage that rise from its very surface. All the gorgeous growths of an eternal Summer are so mingled in one unpenetrable mass, that the eye is bewildered. From the rank jungle of canes and gigantic lilies, and the thickets of strange shrubs that line the water, rise the trunks of the mango, the ceiba, the cocoa, the sycamore and the superb palm. Plaintains take root in the banks, hiding the soil with their leaves, shaken and split into immense plumes by the wind and rain. The zapote, with a fruit the size of a man's head, the gourd tree, and other vegetable wonders, attract the eye on all sides. Blossoms oi crimson, purple and yellow, of a form and magnitude unknown in the North, are mingled with the leaves, and flocks of paroquets and brilliant butterflies circle through the air like blossoms blown away. Sometimes a spike of scarlet flowers is thrust forth like the tongue of a serpent from the heart of some convolution of un folding leaves, and often the creepers and parasites drop trails and streamers of fragrance from boughs that shoot half-way across the river. Every turn of the stream only disclosed another and more magnificent vista of leaf, bough and blossom. All outline of the landscape is lost under this deluge of vegetation. No trace of the noil is to be seen ; lowland and highland are the same ; a moun tain is but a higher swell of the mass of verdure. As on the ocean, you have a sense rather than a perception of beauty The sharp clear lines of our scenery at home are here wanting. What shape the land would be if cleared, you cannot tell. You gaze upon the scene before you with a never-sated delight, till your TTTE VIU,AGF. OF GATUtf. 1C brain aches with the sensation, and you close your eyes, over whelmed with the thought that all these wonders have been from the beginning that year after year takes away no leaf or blossom that is not replaced, but the sublime mystery of growth and decay 8 renewed forever. In the afternoon we reached Gatun, a small village of bamboc trats, thatched with palm-leaves, on the right bank of the river The canoes which preceded us had already stopped, and the boat men, who have a mutual understanding, had decided to remain all night. We ejected our worthless passenger on landing, not- withstanding his passive resistance, and engaged a new boatmam in his place, at $8. I shall never forget the forlorn look ot the man as he sat on the bank beside his bag of rice, as the rain began to fall. Ambrosio took us to one of the huts and engaged hammocks for the night. Two wooden drums, beaten by boys, in another part of the village, gave signs of a coming fandango, and as it was Sunday night, all the natives were out in their best dresses. They are a very cleanly people, bathing daily, and changing their dresses as often as they are soiled. The children have their heads shaved from the crown to the neck, and as they go about naked, with abdomens unnaturally distended, from an exclusive vegetable diet, are odd figures enough. They have bright black eyes, and are quick and intelligent in their speech and motions. The inside of our hut was but a single room, in which all the household operations were carried on. A notched pole, serving s a ladder, led to a sleeping loft, under the pyramidal roof of (.hatch. Here a number of the emigrants who arrived late were utowed away on a rattling floor of cane, covered with hides. After ft supper of pork and coffee, I made my day's notes by the lifi 16 ELDORADO. of a miserable starveling candle, stuck in an empty bottle, but had not written far before my paper was covered with fleas. The owner of the hut swung my hammock meanwhile, and I turned in to secure it for the night. To lie there was one thing, to sleep another. A dozen natives crowded round the table, drinking their aguardiente and disputing vehemently ; the cooking fire waa on one side of me, and every one that passed to and fro was sure to give me a thump, while my weight swung the hammock so low, that all the dog? on the premises were constantly rubbing their backs under me. I was just sinking into a doze, when my head was so violently agitated that I started up in some alarm. It wag but a quarrel about payment between- the Seflora and a boatman, one standing on either side. From their angry gestures, my own head and not the reckoning, seemed the subject of contention. Our men were to have started at midnight, but it was two hours later before we could rouse and muster them together. We went silently and rapidly up the river till sunrise, when we reached a cluster Df huts called Dos Hermanos (Two Brothers.) Here we overtook two canoes, which, in their anxiety to get ahead, had been all night on the river. There had been only a slight shower since we started ; but the clouds began to gather heavily, and by the time we had gained the ranche of Palo Matida a sudden cold wind came over the forests, and the air was at once darkened. We sprang ashore and barely reached the hut, a few paces off, when the rain broke over us, as if the sky had caved in. A dozen lines of white electric heat ran down from the zenith, followed by crashes of thunder, which I could feel throbbing in the earth under my feet. The rain drove into one side of the cabin and out the other, but we wrapped ourselves in India-rubber cloth and kepi out the wet and chilling air. During the whole day the river rose SONGS OX THE RIVER. 17 rapidly and we were obliged to hug the baiik closely, running under the boughs of trees and drawing ourselves up the rapida by those that hung low. I crept out of the snug nest where we were all stowed as c.osely as three unfledged sparrows, and took my seat between Juan and Ambrosio, protected from the rain by an India-rubber poncho The clothing of our men was likewise waterproof, but without seam or fold. It gave no hindrance to the free play of their muscles, as they deftly and rapidly plied the broad paddles Juan kept time to the Ethiopian melodies he had picked up from the emigrants, looking round from time to tune with a grin of satisfaction at his skill. I preferred, however, hearing the native songs, which the boatmen sing with a melancholy drawl on the final syllable of every line, giving the music a peculiar but not unpleasant effect, when heard at a little distance. There was one, in particular, which he sang with some expression, the re- frain running thus : " Ten piedad, piedad de mis penaa, Ten piedad, piedad de mi amor !" (Have pity on my sufferings have pity on my love !) Singing begets thirst, and perhaps Juan sang the more that he might have a more frequent claim on the brandy. The bottle was then produced and each swallowed a mouthful, after which he dipped his cocoa shell in the river and took a long draught. This is a universal custom among the boatmen, and the traveler is obliged to supply them. As a class, they are faithful, hard- working and grateful for kindness. They have faults, the worst of which are tardiness, and a propensity to filch small articles ; but good treatment wins upon them hi almost every case, Juan 18 El.POKADO. said to me in the beginning " soy tu amigo yo," (Americanict : 1 am thy friend, well I am,) but when he asked me, in turn, for every article of clothing I wore, I began to think his friendship not the most disinterested Ambrosio told me that they would serve no one well who treated them badly. " If the Americans are good, we are good ; if they abuse us, we are bad. We are black, but muckos cabatteros," (very much of gentlemen,) said he. Many blustering fellows, with their belts stuck full of pistols and bowie-knives, which they draw on all occasions, but take good care not to use, have brought reproach on the country by their silly conduct. It is no bravery to put a revolver to the head of an unarmed and ignorant native, and the boatmen have sense enough to be no longer terrified by it. We stopped the second night at Pena Blanca, (the White Rock,) where I slept hi the loft of a hut, on the floor, in the midst of the family and six other travelers. We started at sun- rise, hoping to reach Grorsrona the same night, but ran upon a sunken log and were detained some time. Ambrosio finally re- leased us by jumping into the river and swimming ashore with a rope in his teeth. The stream was very high, running at least five miles an hour, and we could only stem it with great labor. We passed the ranches of Agua Salud, Varro Colorado and Palan- quilla, and shortly after were overtaken by a storm on the river. We could hear the rush and roar of the rain, as it came towards us like the trampling of myriad feet on the leaves. Shooting under & broad sycamore we made fast to the boughs, covered our- selves with India-rubber, and lay under our cool, rustling thatch of palm, until the storm had passed over. The character of the scenery changed somewhat as we ad- vanced. The air was purer, and the banks more bold and steep. A PRIEST'S HOUSEHOLD. 19 The country showed more signs of cultivation, and in many places the forest had been lopped away to make room for fields of maize, plantain and rice. But the vegetation was still that of the tropics and many were the long and lonely reaches of the river where we glided between piled masses of bloom and greenery. 1 remember one spot, where, from the crest of a steep hill to the edge of the water, descended a flood, a torrent of vegetation Trees were rolled upon trees, woven intc a sheet by parasitic vines, that leaped into the air like spray, from the topmost boughs. WTien a wind slightly agitated the sea of leaves, and the vine* were flung like a green foam on the surface of the river, it was almost impossible not to feel that the flood was about rushing down to overwhelm us. We stopped four hours short of Gorgona, at the hacienda of San Pablo, the residence of Padre Dutaris, cure of all the in- terior. Ambrosio took us to his house by a path across a rolling, open savanna, dotted by palms and acacias of immense size Herds of cattle and horses were grazing on the short, thick-leaveo grass, and appeared to be in excellent condition. The padre owns a large tract of land, with a thousand head of stock, and hi* ranche commands a beautiful view up and down the river. Am- brosio was acquainted with his wife, and by recommending us as buenos caballeros, procured us a splendid supper of fowls, eggs, rice boiled in cocoa milk, and chocolate, with baked plantains for bread. Those who came after us had difficulty in getting any- thing. The padre had been frequently cheated by Americana and was therefore cautious. He was absent at the time, but his on Felipe, a boy of twelve years old, assisted in doing the honors with wonderful grace and self-possession. His tawny skin wat as *nft as velvet, and his black eyes sparkled like jewels. He 19 20 ELDORADO. almost the only living model of the Apollino that I ever saw. He sat in the hammock with me, leaning over my shoulder as I noted down the day's doingo, and when I had done, wrote his name in my book, in an elegart hand. I slept soundly in the midst of an uproar, and only awoke at four o'clock next morning, to hurry our men in leaving for G-orgona. The current was very strong and in some places it was almost impossible to make headway. Our boatmen worked hard, and by dint of strong poling managed to jump through most difficult places. Their naked, sinewy forms, bathed in sweat, shone like polished bronze. Ambrosio was soon exhausted, and lay down ; but Miguel, our corps de reserve, put his agile spirit into the work and flung himself upon the pole with such vigor that all the muscles of his body quivered as the boat shot ahead and relaxed them. About half-way to Gorgona we rounded the foot of Monte Carabali, a bold peak clothed with forests and crowned with a single splendid palm. This hill is the only one in the province from which both oceans may be seen at once. As we neared Gorgona, our men began repeating the ominous words : " Cruces mucha colera." We had, in fact, already heard of the prevalence of cholera there, but doubted, none the less, their wish to shorten the journey. On climbing the bank to the village, I called immediately at the store of Mr. Miller, the only American resident, who informed me that several passengers by the Falcon had already left for Panama, the route being reported passable. In the door of die alcalde's house, near at hand, I met Mr. Powers, who had left New York a short time previous to my departure, and was about starting for Panama on foot, mules being very scarce. While we were deliberating whether to go on tc Graces, Ambrosio beckoned me into an adjoining hut AN AFFECTION AT BOATMAN. 91 The owner, a very venerable and dignified native, received me swinging in his hammock. He had six horses which he would furnish us the next morning, at $10 the head for riding animals, and $6 for each 100 Ibs. of freight. The bargain was instantly concluded. Now came the settlement with our boatmen. In addition tf the fare, half of which was paid in Chagres, we had promised them a gratification^ provided they made the voyage in three days. The contract was not exactly fulfilled, but we thought it best to part friends and so gave, them each a dollar. Their an- tics of delight were most laughable. They grinned, laughed, danced, caught us by the hands, vowed eternal friendship and would have embraced us outright, had we given them the least encouragement. Half an hour afterwards I met Juan, in a clean shirt and white pantaloons. There was a heat hi his eye and a ruddiness under his black skin, which readily explained a little incoherence in his speech. " Mi amigo /" he cried, " mi buen amigo ! give me a bottle of beer !" I refused. " But," said he, " we are friends ; surely' you will give your dear friend a bottle of beer." " I don't like my dear friends to drink too much ;" I answered. Finding I would not humor him, as a last resort, he placed both hands on his breast, and with an imploring look, sang: " Ten piedad, piedad de mis penal, Ten piedad, piedad de mi amor!" I burst into a laugh at this comical appeal, and he retreated, satisfied that he had at least done a smart thing. Daring the afternoon a numoer of canoes arrived, and as it grew dark the sound of the wooden drums proclaimed a fan iangc 22 ELDORADO. The aristocracy of Gorgona met in the Alcalde's house ; the plebs on a level sward before one of the huts. The dances were the same, but there was some attempt at style by the formei class. The ladies were dressed in white and pink, with flowers in their hair, and waltzed with a slow grace to the music of violins and guitars. The Alcalde's daughters were rather pretty, and at once became favorites of the Americans, some of whom joined in the fandango, and went through its voluptuous mazes at the first trial, to the great delight of the natives. The Sefiora Catalina, 8 rich widow, of pure Andalusian blood, danced charmingly. Hei little head was leaned coquettishly on one side, while with one hand she held aloft the fringed end of a crimson scarf, which rested lightly on the opposite shoulder. The dance over, she took a guitar and sang, the subject of her song being " los amigos Americanos." There was less sentiment, but more jollity, at the dances on the grass. The only accompaniment to the wooden drums was the " no,, fm^ %a," of the women, a nasal monotone, which few ears have nerve to endure. Those who danced longest and with the most voluptuous spirit, had the hats of all the others piled upon them, in token of applause. These half- barbaric orgies were fully seen in the pure and splendid light poured upon the landscape from a vertical moon. Next morning at daybreak our horses tough little mustangs, which I could almost step over were at the door. We started off with a guide, trusting our baggage to the honesty of our host, who promised to send it the same day. A servant of the Alcalde escorted us out of the village, cut us each a good stick, pocketed a real and then left us to plunge into the forests. The path at the outset was bad enough, but as the wood grew deeper and larker and the tough clay soil held the rains which had fa'len, it RIDING THROUGH THE FORESTS. 23 Became finally a narrow gully, filled with mud nearly to our horses bellies. Descending the steep sides of the hills, they would step or slide down almost precipitous passes, bringing up all straight at the bottom, and climbing the opposite sides like cats. So strong is their mutual confidence that they invariably step in each other's tracks, and a great part of the road is thus worn into hole? three feet deep and filled with water and soft mud, which spirt* upward as they go, coating the rider from head to foot. The mountain range in the interior is broken and irregular The road passes over the lower ridges and projecting spurs of the main chain, covered nearly the whole distance to Panama by dense forests. Above us spread a roof of transparent green, through which few rays of the sunlight fell. The only sounds in that leafy wilderness were the chattering of monkeys as they cracked the palm-nuts, and the scream of parrots, flying from tree to tree. In the deepest ravines spent mules frequently lay dead, and high above them, on the large boughs, the bald vultures waited silently for us to pass. We overtook many trains of luggage, packed on the backs of bulls and horses, tied head-to-tail in long files. At intervals, on the road, we saw a solitary ranche, with a cleared space about it, but all the natives could furnish us was a cup of thick, black coffee. After ascending for a considerable distance, in the first hah of our journey, we came to a level table-land, covered with palms, with a higher ridge beyond it. Our horses climbed it with some labor, went down the other side through clefts and gullie* which seemed impassable, and brought us to a stream of milkj blue water, which, on ascertaining its course with a compass, 1 r ound to be a tributary of the Rio Grande, flowing into the Pacific at Panama We now hjped the worst part (if our route was over, 24 ELDORADO. but this was a terrible deception. Scrambling up ravines at slippery clay, we went for miles through swamps and thickets, urging forward our jaded beasts by shouting and beating. Going down a precipitous bank, washed soft by the rains, my horse slipped and made a descent of ten feet, landing on one bank and I on another. He rose quietly, disengaged his head from the mud and stood, flank-deep, waiting till I stepped across his back and went forward, my legs lifted to his neck. This same adven ture happened several times to each of us on the passage acrow As we were leaving Gorgona^our party was joined by a lorg Mississippian, whose face struck me at the first glance as being pe- culiarly cadaverous. He attached himself to us without the least ceremony, leaving his own party behind. We had not ridden far before he told us he had felt symptoms of cholera during the night, and was growing worse. We insisted on his returning to Gorgona at once, but h refused, saying he was " bound to go through." At the first ranche on the road we found another traveler, lying on the ground in a state of entire prostration. He was attended by a friend, who seemed on the point of taking the epidemic, from his very fears. The sight of this case no doubt operated on the Mississippian, for he soon became so racked with pain as to keep his seat with great difficulty. We were alarmed ; it was impos- sible to stop in the swampy forest, and equally impossible to leave him, m,w that all his dependence was on us. The only thing re- lembling medicine in our possession, was a bottle of claret. It was an unusual remedy for cholera, but he insisted on drinking it. After urging forward our weary beasts till late in the afternoon, wo were told that Panama was four hours further. We pitied the poor horses, but ourselves more., and determined to push ahead After a repetition of all our worst experience, we finally struck WE REACH PANAMA. 26 the remains of the paved road constructed by the buccaneers whet they held Panama. I now looked eagerly forward for the Pacifio / but every ridge showed another in advance, and it grew dark with a rain coming up Our horses avoided the hard pavement and took by-paths through thickets higher than our heads The cho- lera-stricken emigrant, nothing helped by the claret he drank, implored us, amid his groans, to hasten forward. Leaning over the horse's neck, he writhed on his saddle in an agony of pain, and seemed on the point of falling at every step. We were far in advance of our Indian guide and lost the way more than once in the darkness. At last he overtook us, washed his feet in a mud- hole, and put on a pair of pantaloons. This was a welcome sign to us, and in fact, we soon after smelt the salt air of the Pacific, and could distinguish huts on either side of the road. These gave place to stone houses and massive ruined edifices, overgrown with vegetation. We passed a plaza and magnificent church, rcJe down an open space fronting the bay, under a heavy gate-way, icross another plaza and through two or three narrow streets, hailed by Americans all the way with : " Are you the Falcon'a passengers :" " From Gorgona ?" " From Cruces ?" till our guide brought us up at the Hotel Americano. Thus terminated my five days' journey across the Isthmus decidedly more novel, grotesque and adventurous than any trip of similar length in the world. It was rough enough, but had DDthing that I could exactly call hardship, so much was the fa- tigue balanced by the enjoyment of unsurpassed scenery and a continual sensation of novelty. In spite of the many dolorous accounts which have been sent from the Isthmus, there is nothing. *t the worst season, to deter any one from the journey. *OL i. 2 CHAPTER III. SCENES IN PANAMA. I SAW less of Panama than I could have wished. A few hasty rambles through its ruined convents and colleges and grass-grown plazas a stroll on its massive battlements, lumbered with idle cannon, of the splendid bronze of Barcelona were all that I could accomplish in the short stay of a day and a half. Its situation at the base of a broad, green mountain, with the sea washing three sides of the narrow promontory on which it is built, is highly pio turesque, yet some other parts of the bay seem better fitted for the purposes of commerce. Vessels of heary draught cannot anchor within a mile and a half of the city, and there is but one point where embarkation, even in the shallow " dug-outs" of the natives, is practicable. The bottom of the bay is a bed of rock, which, at low tide, lies bare far out beyond the ramparts. The Bouth-eastern shore of the bay belongs to the South-American Continent, and the range of lofty mountains behind it is constantly wreathed with light clouds, or shrouded from view by the storms which it attracts. To the west the green islands of Taboga, and others, rise behind one another, interrupting the blue curve of the eatery horiaon. The city was already half Amf rican. The na- tive boys whistled Yankee Doodle through the streets, and 8e PANAMA EMIGRANTS ARRIVING. 97 nontas of the pore Castilian blood sang the Ethiopian melodies of Virginia to their guitars. Nearly half the faces seen were American, and the signs on shops of all kinds appeared in our language On the morning after I arrived, I heard a sudden rumbling hi the streets, and observing a general rush to the win- dows, followed the crowd in time to see the first cart made in Panama the work of a Yankee mechanic, detained for want of money to get further. We found the hotels doing a thriving business, though the fare and attendance were alike indifferent. We went to bed, immedi- ately after reaching the Hotel Americano, that our clothes might be washed before morning, as our luggage had not arrived. Nearly all the passengers were in a similar predicament. Some ladies, who had ridden over from Cruces hi male attire, a short time previous, were obliged to sport their jackets and pantaloons several days before receiving then- dresses. Our trust in the venerable native at Gorgona was not disappointed ; the next morning his mule was at the door, laden with our trunks and valises. Some of the passengers, however, were obliged to re- main in Panama another month, since, notwithstanding the formal contract of the Alcalde of Gorgona, their luggage did not arrive before the sailing of the steamer. The next day nearly all of our passengers came in. There had been a heavy rain during the night, and the Gorgona road, already text to impassable, became actually perilous. A lady from Maine, who made the journey alone, was obliged to ford a torrent of water above her waist, with a native on each side, to prevent her from being carried away. A French lady who crossed was washed from her mule, and only got over by the united exertion* of seven men 88 ELDORADO. The roads from Graces and Gorgona enter on the eastern rida of the city, as well as the line of th". railroad survey. The latter, after leaving Limon Bay, runs on the north side of the Chagres River till it reaches Gorgona, continuing thence to Pa- nama in the same general course as the mule route. It- will probably be extended down the Bay to some point opposite the island of Taboga, which is marked out by Nature as the future anchorage ground and depot of all the lines touching at Panama. The engineers of the survey accomplished a great work in fixing the route within so short a space of time. The obstacles to be overcome can scarcely be conceived by one who has never seen tropical vegetation or felt tropical rains. The greatest difficulty in constructing the road is the want of stone, though this is in some degree supplied by abundance of lignum-vitee and other dur- able wood. The torrents of rain during the summer season wil] require the side-hill cuttings to be made of unusual strength. The estimated cost of the road appears small, especially when the value of labor is taken into consideration. The natives are not A x> be depended on, and there is some risk in taking men from the United States half way to California. Panama is one of the most picturesque cities on the American Continent. Its ruins if those could be called ruins which were never completed edifices and the seaward view from its ram- parts, on a bright morning, would ravish the eye of an artist Although small in limit, old and terribly dilapidated, its situa- tion and surroundings are of unsurpassable beauty. There is one angle of the walls where you can look out of a cracked watch- tower on the sparkling swells of the Pacific, ridden by flocks of now -white pelicans and the rolling canoes of the natives whera your vision, following the entire curve of the Gulf, takes in on RUINED CHURCHES 29 either side nearly a hundred miles of shore. The ruins of the Jesuit Church of San Felipe, through which 1 was piloted by my friend, Lieutenant Beale, reminded me of the Baths of Caracalla The majestic arches spanning the nave are laden with a wilder- ness of shrubbery and wild vines which fall like a fringe to the very floor. The building is roofless, but daylight can scarcely steal in through the embowering leaves. Several bells, of a sweet, silvery ring, are propped up by beams, in a dark corner, but from the look of the place, ages seem to have passed since they called the crafty brotherhood to the oracion. A splendid College, left incomplete many years age fronts on one of the plazas. Its Cor- inthian pillars and pilasters of red sandstone are broken and crumbling, and from the crevices at their base spring luxuriant bananas, shooting their large leaves through the windows and fold- ing them around the columns of the gateway. There were about seven hundred emigrants waiting for passage, when I reached Panama. All the tickets the steamer could pos sibly receive had been issued and so great was the anxiety to get on, that double price, $600, was frequently paid for a ticket to San Francisco A few days before we came, there was a most violent excitement on the subject, and as the only way to terminate the dispute, it was finally agreed to dispose by lot of all the tick- ets for sale. The emigrants were all numbered, and those with tickets for sailing vessels or other steamers excluded. The re- mainder then drew, there being fifty-two tickets to near thre hundred passengers. This quieted the excitement for the time, though there was still a continual under-current of speculation and intrigue which was curious to observe. The disappointed candidates, for the most part, took passage in sailing vessels, with a prospect of seventy days' voyage before them. A few months 90 ELDORADO previous, when three thousand persons were waiting on the Isih mus, several small companies started in the log canoes of tht natives, thinking to reach San Francisco in them ! After a voy age of forty days, during which they went no further than th Island of Quibo, at the mouth of the Gulf, nearly all of them re- turned ; the rest have not since been heard of. The passengers were engaged in embarking all the afternoon of the second day after my arrival. The steamer came up to within a mile and a half of the town, and numbers of canoes plied be- tween her and the sea-gateway. Native porters crowded about the hotels, clamoring for luggage, which they carried down to the shore under so fervent a heat that I was obliged to hoist my umbrella. One of the boatmen lifted me over the swells for the sake of a medio, and I was soon gliding out along the edge of the breakers, startling the pelicans that flew in long lines over the water. I was well satisfied to leave Panama at the time ; the oholera, which had already carried off one-fourth of the native population, was making havoc among the Americans, and several A the Falcon's passengers lay at the point of death CHAPTER IV. THE PACIFIC COAST OF MEXICO. THE following morning, at eleven o'clock, the last canoe-load of mails came on board. Ten minutes afterwards our parting gun was fired, and its echoes had not died away when the paddles were in motion and the boat heading for Taboga. We ran past several steep volcanic islands, matted in foliage, and in an horn came-to before Taboga, which is to Panama what Capri is to Naples, only that it is far more beautiful. In the deep ana secure roadstead one may throw a stone from the ship's deck ^to the gardens of orange and tamarind fringing the beach. The village lies beside a cocoa grove in a sheltered corner, at the foot of hills which rise in terraces of luxuriant vegetation to the height of a thousand feet. The mass of palm, cocoa, banana and orange trees is unbroken from the summit to the water's edge. The ravine behind the village contains an unfailing spring of sweet water, from which all vessels touching at Panama are supplied. The climate is delightful and perfectly healthy. The steamer Oregon was lying high and dry on the beach, undergoing repairs, having injured her keel by running on a rock during the voyage down. The remarkable adaptation of Taboga for a dry dock was shown bv the fact that while at high tide thf 32 ELDORADO. Oregon floated, at low tide one might walk around her on dry ground ; by building two walls and a gate 'n front, the dry dock would be complete. This is the only place between Cape Horn and San Francisco where such a thing is possible. These un rivaled advantages, as well as the healthiness of Taboga and its splendid scenery, point it out as the stopping-place for steamers and passengers, if not the commercial depot of this part of the Pacific. A voyage from Panama to San Francisco in the year 1849, can hardly be compared to sea-life in any other part of the world or at any previous period. Our vessel was crowded fore and aft : exercise was rendered quite impossible and sleep was each night a new experiment, for the success of which we were truly grateful We were roused at daylight by the movements on deck, if not earlier, by the breaking of a hammock-rope and the thump and yell of the unlucky sleeper. Coffee was served in the cabin ; but. as many of the passengers imagined that, because they had paid a high price for then- tickets, they were conscientiously obligated to drink three cups, the late-comers got a very scanty allowance. The breakfast hour was nine, and the table was obliged to be fully set twice. At the first tingle of the bell, all hands started as if a shot had exploded among them ; conversation was broken off in the middle of a word ; the deck was instantly cleared, and the passengers, tumbling pell-mell down the cabin-stairs, found every seat taken by others who had probably been sitting in them for half an hour. The bell, however, had an equally convulsive effect upon these. There was a confused grabbing motion for a few seconds, and lo ! the plates were cleared. A chicken parted in twain as if by magic, each half leaping into an opposite plate , a diah of sweet potatoes vanished before a single hand ; beefsteak MKAL-TIMi >N THE STEAMER. 33 flew in all directions ; and while about half the passengers had all their breakfast piled at once upon their plates, the other half were regaled by a " plentiful lack." The second table was but a repe- tition of these scenes, which dinner our only additional meal- renewed in the afternoon. To prevent being driven, in self-defence , into the degrading habit, eight of us secured one end of the second table, shut off by the mizen-mast from the long arms that might otherwise have grabbed our share. Among our company of two hundred and fifty, there were, of course, many gentlemen of marked refinement and intelligence from various parts of the Union enough, probably, to leaven the large lump of selfishness and blackguardism into which we were thrown. I believe the control- ling portion of the California emigration is intelligent, orderly and peaceable ; yet I never witnessed so many disgusting exhibitions of the lowest passions of humanity, as during the voyage. At sea or among the mountains, men completely lose the little arts of dis- simulation they practise in society. They show in their true light, and very often, alas ! in a light little calculated to encourage the enthusiastic believer in the speedy perfection of. our race. The day after leaving Panama we were in sight of the promontory of Veraguas and the island of Quibo, off Central America. It is a grand coast, with mountain ranges piercing the clouds. Then, for several days, we gave the continent a wide berth, our course making a chord to the arc of the Gulf ol Tehuantepec. The sea was perfectly tranquil, and we were no< molepted by the inexorable demon that lodges in the stomachs o landsmen. Why has never a word been said or sung about sunset on the Pacific ? Nowhere on this earth can one be over- vaulted with such a glory of colors. The sky, with I ground-hue of rose towards the west and purple towards the east, is mottlet' 3* 34 ELDORADO and flecked over all its surface with light clouds, running through every shade of crimson, amber, violet and russet-gold. There ia no dead duskiness opposite the sunken sun ; the whole vast shell of the firmament glows with an equal radiance, reduplicating its hues on the glassy sea, so that we seem floating in a hollow sphere of prismatic crystal. The cloud-strata, at different heights in the air, take different coloring ; through bars of burning carmine one may look on the soft, rose-purple folds of an inner curtain, and, far within and beyond that, on the clear amber-green of the immaculate sky. As the light diminishes, these radiant vapors sink and gather into flaming pyramids, between whose pinnacles the serene depth of air is of that fathomless violet-green which we see in the skies of Titian. The heat, during this part of the voyage, was intolerable. The thermometer ranged from 82 to 84 at night, and 86 to 90 by day a lower temperature than we frequently feel in the North, but attended by an enervating languor such as I never before experienced. Under its influence one's energies flag, active habits of mind are thrown aside, the imagination grows faint and hazy, the very feelings and sensibilities are melted and weakened. Once, I panted for the heat and glare and splendid luxuriance of tropical lands, till I almost made the god of the Persians my own. I thought some southern star must have been in the ascendant at my birth, some glowing instinct of the South been infused into my nature. Two months before, the thought of riding on that summer sea, with the sun over the mast-head, would have given a delicious glow to my fancy. But all my vision of life in the tropics vanished before the apathy engendered by this heat. The snowy, bleak and sublime North beckoned me like a mirage ever the receding seas Gods ! how a single sough A MIDNIGHT CALL AT ACAPttLCO. 3ft of keen nortL-west wind down some mountain gorge would have beaten a march of exulting energy to my spirit ! how my veins would have tingled to the sound, and my nerves stiffened in the healthy embraces of that ruder air ! After a week of this kind of existence we passed the sun's latitude, and made the mountains of Mexico. The next night we came-to at the entrance of the harbor of Acapulco, while the ship's boat went to the city, some two miles distant. In aboui two hours it returned, bringing us word that thirty or fortj Americans were waiting passage, most of whom were persons whc had left Panama in the Humboldt in March, and who had already been three months in port. Captain Bailey determined to take them on board, and the Panama felt her way in through the dark, narrow entrance. It was midnight. The beautiful mountain-locked basin on which Acajmlco is built was dimly visible under the clouded moon, but I could discern on one side the white walls of the Fort on a rocky point, with the trees of the Alameda behind it, and still further the lights of the town glittering along the hill. As we approached the Fort we were hailed, but as a response was not immediately made the light was suddenly extinguished Borne one called out "fuero ! fuero /" (outside !) and our boat, which had been sent out a second time, returned, stating that a file of soldiers drawn up on the beach had opposed any landing. tt was followed by another, with four oars, containing a messen ger from the Governor, who announced to us, in good English, that we were not allowed to come so near the town, but must li off in the channel ; the cholera, they had learned, was at Panama, nd quarantine regulations had been established at Acapulco This order was repeated, and the Panama then moved to the other 36 ELDORADO. side of the harbor The boat, however, eame oat again bringing a declaration from the Governor that if we did not instantly fall back to a certain channel between two islands, we should be fired upon. Rather than get into a quarrel with the alarmed authorities or be subjected to delay, we got under waj again, and by sunrise were forty miles nearer San Bias. We had on board a choice gang of blacklegs, among whom were several characters of notoriety in the United States, going out to extend the area of their infernal profession. About a dozen came on from New Orleans by the Falcon and as many from New York by the Crescent City. They established a branch at Panama, immediately on their arrival, and two or three remained to take charge of it. They did not commence very fortunately ; their first capital of $500 having been won in one night by a lucky padre. Most of them, with the devil's luck. drew prizes in the ticket lottery, while worthy men were left behind. After leaving Acapulco, they commenced playing montt on the quarter-deck, and would no doubt have entrapped some unwary passengers, had not the Captain put a stop to their operations. These characters have done much, by their conduct on the Isthmus and elsewhere, to earn for us the title oi 11 Northern barbarians," and especially, by wantonly offending the religious sentiment of the natives. I was told of four who entered one of the churches with their hats pulled fast over their brows, and, marching deliberately up the aisle, severally lighted their cigars at the four tapers of the altar. The class was knows to all on board and generally shunned. There is another class of individuals whom I would recommend travelers to avoid. I saw several specimens on the Isthmus. They are miserable, melancholy men, ready to yield up their last THE MEXICAN COAST 1 ! 3f bi eath at any moment. They left home prematurely, and now humbly acknowledge their error. They were not made for travel- ing, but they did not know it before. If you would dig a hole and lay them in it, leaving only their heads above ground, they irould be perfectly contented. Let them alone ; do not evei express your sympathy. Then their self-pity will change to in- dignation at your cold-heartedness, and they will take care of themselves for very spite. Our track, now, was along and near the coast a succession of lofty mountain ranges, rising faint and blue through belts of cloud. Through a glass, they appeared rugged and abrupt, scarred with deep ravines and divided by narrow gorges, yet exhibiting, nearly to their summits, a rich clothing of forests. The shore is iron-bound and lined with breakers, yet there are many small bays and coves which afford shelter to fishing and coasting vessels and support a scanty population. The higher peaks of the inland chain are occasionally seen when the atmosphere is clear. One morning the Volcano of Colima, distant ninety miles " as the bird flies," came into sight, shooting its forked summits far above the nearer ranges. It is hi the province of Jalisco, near Lake Chapala, and is 16,000 feet in height a greater than Mount Blanc ! I was delighted with Cuba and the Isthmus, but forgot diem at once when I viewed the grand outline of this coast, the only approach to which is seen hi the Maritime Alps, on leaving Genoa. On the third morning from Acapulco, we saw the lofty group of mountains bounding the roadstead of San Bias on tho East The islands called Las Tres Marias were visible, ten miles dis- tant, on our left. They are too small and scattering to break the heavy seas and " southrs" which come in to the very end of the 38 ELDORADO bight on which San Bias is built. Vessels of light draught maj run across a narrow bar between breakers and find safe anchor* age in a little inlet on the northern side, but those which are obliged to lie in the open road are exposed to considerable danger A high white rock, of singular form, about a quarter of a mila from the shore, serves as a landmark for vessels. The village which is a little larger than Chagres, and like it a collection of cane huts with a few stone houses, lies on one side of the inlet before mentioned, on flat swampy ground, and surrounded by rank forests and jungles. A mile behind it, on a high, precipitou? rock, is the Presidio of San Bias, now almost deserted, all busi- ness being transacted at the village on shore. We came-to, a mile from the place, and were soon after visited by the Alcalde, who, after exchanging the ordinary courtesies in- formed us there were plenty of provisions on shore, and departed, saying nothing of quarantine. A flock of cayucas, paddled by the natives, followed him and swarmed around us, ready to take passengers at three rials apiece. Three or four of us took one of these craft, and were paddled ashore, running on the edge of the breakers which roared and dashed along the mouth of the inlet. We landed on a beach, ancle-deep in sand and covered with mus- tangs, mules and donkeys, with a sprinkling of natives. Our passengers were busy all over the village, lugging strings of bananas and plantains, buying cool water-jars of porous earth, gathering limes and oranges from the trees, or regaling themselvea t the fondas with fresh spring-water, (not always unmixed,) tortillas and fried pork. Several gentlemen who had come over- land from Vera Cruz, awaited our arrival, and as the place was vary unhealthy they were not long in embarking In company with some friends. I set out for the old Prosidk THE OLD PRESIDIO OP SAN BLA8. 39 on the cliff The road led through swampy forests till we reached the foot of the ascent. A native passed us, on a sharp-trotting mule : " Donde va, hombre ?" " Tepic," was his answer. Up we went, scrambling over loose stones, between banana thickets and flowering shrubs, till we gained a rocky spur near the summit Here the view to the north, toward Mazatlan, was very fine Across the marshy plain many leagues in breadth, bordering the Bea, we traced the Kio Grande of the West by the groves of syca- more on its banks ; beyond it another lateral chain of the Sierra Madre rose to the clouds. Turning again, we entered a deserted court-yard, fronted by the fort, which had a covered gallery on the inside. The walls were broken down, the deep wells in the rock choked up and the stone pillars and gateways overrun with rank vines. From the parapet, the whole roadstead of San Bias lay at our feet, and our steamer, two miles off, seemed to be within hail. This plaza opened on another and larger one, completely covered with tall weeds, among which the native pigs rooted and meditated by turns. A fine old church, at the farther end, was going to ruin, and the useless bells still hung in its towers. Some of the houses were inhabited, and we procured from the natives fresh water and delicious bananas. The aspect of the whole place, picturesque in its desolation, impressed me more than anything on the journey, except the church of San Felipe, at Panama. The guns of the Presidio were spiked by Commander Dupont, during the war ; there has been no garrison there for many years. We descended again, made our purchases of fruit, and reached ]he beach just as the steamer's gun signalized us to return. The tayuca in which we embarked was a round log, about ten feet long, rolling over the swells with a ticklish facility. We lay flat ii 40 ELDORADO. the bottom, not daring to stir hand or foot for fear of losing the exact balance which kept us upright, and finaLy reached the gangway, where we received a sound cursing from one of the ship's crew for trusting ourselves in such a craft A dozen thera, pulling for life, came behind us, followed by a launch bringing two live bullocks for our provender. A quarrel broke out between one of our new passengers and a native, in which blows were exchanged. The question was then raised " whether a nigger was as good as a white man," and like the old feuds ol the Bianchi and the Neri in Tuscany, the contest raged fiercely for the rest of the day. The morning mist rose from the summits of the Sierra Madre of Durango. As we neared Mazatlan, a light smoke was discerned far on our left ; and we had not been long in the harbor before the California came rounding in, her passengers cheering us as she passed and dropped anchor between us and the town. She looked somewhat weather-beaten, but was a pleasant sight to our eyes. Conversation was kept up between the two ships so long as they were in hearing, the Panama's passengers inquiring anxiously about the abundance of gold, and the Californians assuring them that it was as plenty as ever. Few ports present a more picturesque appearance from the sea than Mazatlan. The harbor, or roadstead, open on the west to the unbroken swells of the Pacific^ is protected on the north and south by what were ouce mountain promontories, now split into parallel chains of islands, separated by narrow channels of sea Their sides are scarred with crags, terminating toward the sea in precipices of dark red rock, with deep caverns at the base, into which the surf continually dashes. On approaching the road these islands open one beyond the other, like a succession of shift TOUCHING AT MAZATLAIT. 41 ing views tne last revealing the white walls of Mazatlan. rising gradually from the water, with a beautiful back-ground of dim blue mountains. The sky was of a dazzling purity, and the whole scene had that same clearness of outline and enchanting harmony df color which give the landscapes of Italy their greatest charm. As we ran westward on the Tropic of Cancer across the mouth 01 the Gulf, nothing could exceed the purity of the atmosj hero. CHAPTER V. THE COAST OF CALIFORNIA " There is California !" was the cry next morning at tninris* " Where r" " OS the starboard bow." I rose on my bunk in one of the deck state-rooms, and looking out of the window, watched the purple mountains of the Peninsula, as they rose in the fresh, inspiring air. We were opposite its southern extremity, and I scanned the brown and sterile coast with a glass, searching for anything like vegetation. The whole country appeared to be a mass of nearly naked rock, nourishing only a few cacti and some stunted shrubs. At the extreme end of the Peninsula the valley Df San Jose opens inland between two ranges of lofty granite mountains. Its beautiful green level, several miles in width stretched back as far as the eye could reach. The town lies near the sea ; it is noted for the siege sustained by Lieut. Haywood and a small body of American troops during the war. Lying deep unid the most frightfully barren and rugged mountains I ever saw, the valley of San Jose which is watered by a small river, might be made a paradise. The scenery around it corresponded strik- ingly with descriptions of Syria and Palestine. The bare, yellow crags glowed in the sun with dazzling intensity, and a chain of splintered peaks in the distance wore the softest shade of violet A TREACHEROUS COAST. 43 In spite of the forbidding appearance of the coast, a more peculiar and interesting picture than it gave can hardly be found on the Pacific, Cape San Lucas, which we passed toward evening, is a bold bluff of native granite, broken into isolated rocks at its points, which present the appearance of three distinct and perfectly-formed pyramids The white, glistening rock is pierced at its base by hollow caverns and arches, some of which are fifteen or twenty feet high, giving glimpses of the ocean beyond. The structure of this cape is very similar to that of The Needles on the Isle of Wight. On the 12th of August we passed the island of Santa Marguenta, lying across the mouth of a bay, the upper extremity of which is called Point San Lazaro. Here, the outline of the coast, as laid down on the charts in use, is very incorrect. The longitude is not only placed too far eastward by twenty to thirty miles, but an isolated mountain, rising from the sea, eight miles northwest of Point San Lazaro, is entirely wanting. This mountain a summit of barren rock, five miles in length and about a thousand -feet in hight, is connected with the coast by a narrow belt of sand, form- ing a fine bay, twelve miles deep, curving southward till it strikes Point San Lazaro. The northern point of the headland is bor- dered by breakers, beyond which extends a shoal. Here the current sets strongly in shore, and here it was that a whale-ship was lost a few months since, her crew escaping to wander for days on an arid desert, without water or vegetation. The Panama, on her downward trip, ran on the shoal and was obliged to lay-to all night ; in the morning, instead of the open sea promised by the chart, the crags of the unknown headland rose directly in front oi her. The coast, as far as I could see with a good glass, presented an unbroken level of g ^ring whit o sand, which must extend in- 44 KLDOBADO. land for fifty or sixty miles, since, nnder the clearest of skiea no sign of rock or distant peak was visible. The appearance of the whole Peninsula, in passing the alternations of bleak mountain, blooming plain and wide salt desert the rumors of vast mineral wealth in its unknown interior and the general want of intelligence in relation to it conspired to excite in me a strong wish to tra- Torse it from end to end. The same evening we doubled Cape San Lucas, we met the ship Grey Eagle, of Philadelphia, one of the first of the California squadron. She was on her way from San Francisco to Mazatlan, with two hundred passengers on board, chiefly Mexicans. Three cheers were given and returned, as the vessels passed each other The temperature changed, as we left the tropics behind and met the north-western trades ; the cool winds drove many passengers from the deck, and the rest of us had some chance for exercise. All were in the best spirits, at the prospect of soon reaching our destination, and the slightest thread of incident, whereto a chance for amusement might be hung, was eagerly caught up. There was on board a man of rather grave demeanor, who, from the circumstance of having his felt hat cocked up like a general's, wearing it square across his brows and standing for long whiles with his arms folded, in a meditative attitude, had been generally nicknamed "Napoleon." There was no feature of his face like the great Corsican's, but from the tenacity with which he took hie stand on the mizen-yard and folded his arms every evening, the passengers supposed he really imagined a strong resemblance. One of those days, in a spirit of mischief, they bought a felt hat gave it the same cocked shape, and bribed one of the negro cooke to wear it and take off Napoleon. Accordingly, as the latter be- gan ascending the shrouds to his favorite post, the cook went np HARBOR OF BAN DIEGO. 46 A., opposite side. Napoleon sat down on the yard, braced him- self against the mast and folded his arms ; the cook, slyly watch ing his motions, imitated them with a gravity which was irresistible All the passengers were by this time gathered on the quarter deck, shouting with laughter : it was singular how much merri ment so boyish a trick could occasion. Napoleon bore it for a time with perfect stolidity, gazing on the sunset with unchanged solemnity of visage. At last, getting tired of the affair, he looked down on the crowd and said : " you have sent me a very fit representative of yourselves." The laugh was stopped suddenly, nd from that time forth Napoleon was not disturbed in his The only other point of interest which we saw on the Peninsu- lar coast, was Benito Island, off the Bay of Sebastian Viscaino, go named, after the valiant discoverer of California. Two morn- ings after, I saw the sun rise behind the mountains back of San Diego. Point Loma, at the extremity of the bay, came in sight on the left, and in less than an hour we were at anchor before the hide-houses at the landing place. The southern shore of the bay is low and sandy ; from the bluff hights on the opposite side a narrow strip of shingly beach makes out into the sea, like a na- tural breakwater, leaving an entrance not more than three hundred yards broad. The harbor is the finest on the Pacific, with the exception of Acapulco, and capable of easy and complete de- fense. The old hide-houses are built at the foot of the hilla just inside the bay, and a fine road along the shore leads to the town of San Diego, which is situated on a plain, three miles distant and barely visible from the anchorage. Above the houses, on a Httle eminence, several tents were planted, and a short distance farther were several recent graves, surrounded by paling A number of people were clustered on the beach, and beats ladei with passengers and freight, instantly put off to us. In a few minutes after our gun was fired, we could see horsemen coming down from San Diego at full gallop, one of whom carried behind him a lady in graceful riding costume. In the first boat- were Colonel Weller, U. S. Boundary Commissioner, and Major Hill of the Army. Then followed a number of men, lank and brown " as is the ribbed sea-sand" men with long hair and beards, and faces from which the rigid expression of suffering was scarcely relaxed. They were the first of the overland emigrants by the Gila route, who had reached San Diego a few days before. Their clothes were in tatters, their boots, in many cases, replaced by moccasins, and, except their rifles and some small packages rolled in deerskin, they had nothing left of the abundant stores with which they left home. We hove anchor in half an hour, and again rounded Point Loma, our number increased by more than fifty passengers. The Point, which comes down to the sea at an angle of 60 has been lately purchased by an American, for what purpose I cannot im- agine, unless it is with the hope of speculating on Government when it shall be wanted for a light-house. In the afternoon we passed the island of Santa Catalina, which is about twelve miles in length, rising to a height of 3,000 feet above the sea, and in- habited by herds of wild goats. Santa Cruz and Santa Rosa, which lie opposite Santa Barbara and separated from it by the channel of the same name, were left behind us in the night, and the next day we were off Cape Conception, the Cape Horn of Cali- fornia. True to its character, we had a cold, dense fog, and violent head-winds ; the coast was shrouded from sight. The emigrants we took on board at San Diego were objects of 47 general interest. The stories of their adventures by the way Bounded more marvellous than anything I had heard or read since my boyish acquaintance with Robinson Crusoe, Captain Cook and John Ledyard. Taking them as the average ex- perience of the thirty thousand emigrants who last year crossed the Plains, this California Crusade will more than equal the great military expeditions of the Middle Ages in magnitude, peril and adventure. The amount of suffering which must have been endured in the savage mountain passes and herbless deserts of the interior, cannot be told in words. Some had come by way of Santa Fe and along the savage hills of the Gila ; some, starting from Red River, had crossed the Great Stake Desert and taken the road from Paso del Norte to Tucson in Sonora ; some had passed through Mexico and after spending one hundred and four days at sea, run into San Diego and given nip their vessel ; some had landed, weary with a seven months' psssage around Cape Horn, and some, finally, had reached the place on foot, after walking the whole length of the Calif ornian Peninsula. The emigrants by the Gila route gave a terrible account of the crossing of the Great Desert, lying west of the Colorado. They described this region as scorching and sterile a country of burning salt plains and shifting hills of sand, whose only signs of human visitation are the bones of animals and men scattered along the trails that cross it. The corpses of several emigrants, out of companies who passed before them, lay half-buried in sand, And the hot air was made stifling by the effluvia that rose from the dry carcases of hundreds of mules. There, if a man faltered, he was gone ; no one could stop to lend him a hand without a likelihood of sharing his fate. It seemed like a wonderful Provi- dence to these emigrants, when thev came suddenly upon a large 48 6LDORAB6. and swift stream of fresh water in the midst of the Desert, whore, a year previous, there had been nothing but sterile sand. Thi phenomenon was at first ascribed to the melting of snow on the mountains, but later emigrants traced the river to its source in a take about half a mile in length, which had bubbled up spontane _usly from the fiery bosom of the Desert One of the emigrants by the Sonora route told me a story o a sick man who rode behind his party day after day, unable to keep pace with it, yet always arriving in camp a few hours later. This lasted so long that finally little attention was paid to him and his absence one night excited no apprehension. Three daya passed and he did not arrive. On the fourth, a negro, traveling alone and on foot, came into camp and told them that many miles behind a man lying beside the road had begged a little water from him and asked him to hurry on and bring assistance. The next morning a company of Mexicans came up and brought word that the man was dying. The humane negro retraced his steps forty miles, and arrived just as the sufferer breathed his last. He lifted him in his arms; in the vain effort to speak, the man expired. The mule, tied to a cactus by his side, was already dead of hunger. I was most profoundly interested in the narrative of a Phila- delphian, who, after crossing Mexico from Tampico to San Plas, embarked for San Francisco, and was put ashore by his own request, at Cape San Lucas. He had three or four com- panions, the party supposing they might make the journey to San Diego in thirty or forty days, by following the coast. I*, was soon found, however, that the only supply of water was among the mountains of the interior, and they were obliged to proceed on foot to the valley of San Jose and follow the trail to La Paz, on OEN. VILLAMIL AND HIS COLONY 49 the Californian Gulf. Thence they wandered in a marly opposite direction to Todos Santos Bay, on the Pacific, where they ex- changed some of their arms for horses The route led in a zur- sag direction across the mountain chain, from one watering-place to another, with frequent jornadas (journeys without water,) of thirty, forty and even sixty miles in length. Its rigors were increased by the frightful desolation of the country, and the deep gullies 01 arroyos with which it is seamed. In the beds of these they would often lose the trail, occasioning them many hours' search to recover it. The fruit of the cactus and the leaves of succulent plants formed their principal sustenance. After a month of this travel they reached San Ignacio, half-way to San Diego, where their horses failed them ; the remainder of the journey was per- formed on foot. The length of the Peninsula is about eight hundred miles, but the distance traveled by these hardy adven- turers amounted to more than fifteen hundred. Among the passengers who came on board at San Diego, was Gen. Villamil, of the Republic of Ecuador, who was aid to Bolivar during the war of South-American independence. After the se- cession of Ecuador from Columbia, he obtained from Gen. Flores a grant of one of the Galapagos Islands a group well known to whalers, lying on the equator, six hundred miles west of Guayaquil. On this island, which he named Floriana, he has lived for the past sixteen years. His colony contains a hundred and fifty souls, who raie on the light, new soil, abundant crops of grain and vegetables. The island is fifteen miles in length, by twelve in breadth, lying in lat. 1 30' S. and its highest part is about 5,000 feet above the levei of the sea. A lie soil is but from twelve to eighteen inches deep, yet such is the profusion of vegetable growth, that, as Gen. Villa mil informed mo, its depth has in many places increased six inche* VOL. I. 3 50 KLDORADO. since ho first landed there. The supply of water is obtained in a very singular manner. A large porous rock, on the side of one of the mountains, seems to serve as an outlet or filter for some sub terranean vein, since on its base, which is constantly humid, the drops collect and fall in sufficient abundance to supply a larg asin in the rock below. Pipes from this deposit convey the watei to the valley. Its quality is cool, sweet and limpid, and the rock) sponge from which it drips never fails in its snpply. We were within sight of the Coast Range of California all day, after passing Cape Conception. Their sides are spotted with timber, which in the narrow valleys sloping down to the sea ap- peared to be of large growth. From their unvarying yellow hue, we took them to be mountains of sand, but they were in reality covered with natural harvests of wild oats, as I afterwards learned, on traveling into the interior. A keen, bracing wind at nighl kept down the fog, and although the thermometer fell to 52, causing a general shiver on board, I walked the deck a long time ; noting the extraordinary brilliancy of the stars in the pure air. The mood of our passengers changed very visibly as we approached the close of the voyage ; their exhilarant anticipations left them, and were succeeded by a reaction of feeling that almost amounted to despondency. The return to laborious life after a short ex- emption from its cares, as in the case of travel, is always attended with some such feeling, but among the California emigrants it wai intensified by the uncertainty of their venture in a region where al) ihe ordinary rales of trade and enterprise would be at fault Wher I went on deck in the clear dawn, while yet " The maiden splendors of the morning-iUT Shook in the steadfast blue," THE LAST DAT OF THB VOYAGE. 5] we were rounding Point Pinos into the harbor of Monterey As re drew near, the white, scattered dwellings of the town, situated on a gentle slope, hehind which extended on all sides the celebrated Pine Forest, became visible in the grey light. A handsome fort, on an eminence near the sea, returned our salute. Four vessels, shattered, weather-beaten and apparently deserted, lay at anchor not far from shore. The town is larger than I expected to find it, and from the water has the air of a large New-England village, barring the adobe houses. Major Lee and Lieut. Beale, who went ashore in the steamer's boat, found Gen. Riley, the Civil Governor, very ill with a fever. As we were preparing to leave, the sun rose over the mountains, covering the air with gold brighter than ever was scratched up on the Sacramento. The picturesque houses of Monterey, the pine woods behind and the hills above them, glowed like an illuminated painting, till a fog-curtain which met us at the mouth of the harbor dropped down upon the water and hid them all from sight. At last the voyage is drawing to a close. Fifty-one days have elapsed since leaving New York, hi which time we have, in a manner, coasted both sides of the North- American Continent, froir the parallel of 40 N. to its termination, within a few degrees of tne Equator, over seas once ploughed by the keels of Columbus aiid Balboa, of Grijalva and Sebastian Viscaino. All is excite- ment on board ; the Captain has just taken his noon observation We are running along the shore, within six or eight miles' distance , the hills are bare and sandy, but loom up finely through the deep blue haze A brig bound to San Francisco, but fallen off to the leeward of the harbor, is making a new tack on our left, to come 52 ELDORADO. up again. The coast trends somewhat more to the westward and a notch or gap is at last visible in its lofty outline. An hour later ; we are in front of the entrance to San Francisco Bay. The mountains on the northern side are 3,000 feet in bight, and come boldly down to the sea. As the view opens through the splendid strait, three or four miles in width, the island rock o< Alcatraz appears, gleaming white in the distance. An inward bound ship follows close on our wake, urged on by wind and tide There is a small fort perched among the trees on our right, where the strait is narrowest, and a glance at the formation of the hills shows that this pass might be made impregnable as Gibraltar. The town is still concealed behind the promontory around which the Bay turns to the southward, but between Alcatraz and the bland of Yerba Buena, now coming into sight, I can see vessels at anchor. High through the vapor in front, and thirty miles dis- tant, rises the peak of Monte Diablo, which overlooks everything between the Sierra Nevada and the Ocean. On our left opens the bight of Sousolito, where the U. S. propeller Massachusetts and several other vessels are at anchor. At last we are through the Golden Gate fit name for such r magnificent portal to the commerce of the Pacific ! Yerba Buena Island is in front ; southward and westward opens the renowned harbor, crowded with the shipping of the world, mast behind mast nd vessel behind vessel, the flags of all nations fluttering in the breeze ! Around the curving shore of the Bay and upon the rides of three hills which rise steeply from the water, the middle one receding so as to form a bold amphitheatre, the town is planted and seems scarcely yet to have taken root, for tents, canvas, plank, mud and adobe houses are mingled together with the least apparent THE ANCHOR DROPS. 53 attempt at order and durability. But I am not yet on shore. The gun of the Panama has just announced our arrival to the people on land. We glide on with the tide, past the U. S. ship Ohio and opposite the main landing, outside of the forest of masts. A dozen boats are creeping out to us over the water ; the signal i the anchor drcps our voyage is ovei CHAPTER YI. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SAN FRANCISCO. 1 LEFT the Panama, in company with Lieut. Beale, in the boat )f the U. S. ship Ohio, which brought Lieutenant Ells on board. We first boarded the noble ship, which, even in San Francisco har- bor, showed the same admirable order as on our own coast. She bad returned from Honolulu a few days previous, after an absence of three months from California. The morning of our arrival, eighteen of her men had contrived to escape, carrying with them one of the boats, under fire from all the Government vessels in the harbor. The officers were eager for news from home, having been two months without a mail, and I was glad that my habit oi carrying newspapers in my pockets enabled me to furnish them with a substantial gratification. The Ohio's boat put us ashore at the northern point of the anchorage, at the foot of a steep bank, from which a high pier had been built into the bay. A large vessel lay at the end, discharging her cargo. We scrambled up through piles of luggage, and among the crowd collected to witness our arrival, picked out two Mexicans to carry our trunks to a hotel. The barren side of 4 Jie hill before us was covered with tents and canvas bouses, and nearly in front a large two-story building displayed the sign : " Fremont Family Hotel." APPEARANCE OF THE TOWW. 65 As jet. we were only in the suburbs of the town. Crossing the shoulder of the hill, the view extended around the curve of the bay, and hundreds of tents and houses appeared, scattered all over the heights, and along the shore for more than a mile. A furious wind was blowing down through a gap in the hills, filling the streets with clouds of dust. On every side stood buildings of all kinds, begun or half-finished, and the greater part of them mere canvas sheds, open in front, and covered with all kinds of signs, in all languages. Great quantities of goods were piled up in the open air, for want of a place to store them. The streets were full of people, hurrying to and fro, and of as diverse and bizarre a character as the houses : Yankees of every possible va- riety, native Californians in sarapes and sombreros, Chilians, So- norians, Kanakas from Hawaii, Chinese with long tails, Malays armed with their everlasting creeses, and others in whose em- browned and bearded visages it was impossible to recognize any especial nationality. We came at last into the plaza, now digni- fied by the name of Portsmouth Square. It lies on the slant side of the hill, and from a high pole in front of a long one-story adobe building used as the Custom House, the American flag was flying. On the lower side stood the Parker House an ordinary frame house of about sixty feet front and towards its entrance we directed our course. Our luggage was deposited on one of the rear porticos, and we discharged the porters, after paying them two dollars each a sum so immense in comparison to the service rendered tnat there was no longer any doubt of our having actually landed in Cali- fornia. There were no lodgings to be had at the Parker House-- not even a place to unroll our blankets ; but one of the proprietors accompanied us across the plaza to the City Hctel, where we ob 56 ELDORADO. tained a room with two beds at $ 25 per week, meals being in ad dition $20 per week. I asked the landlord whether he could send % porter for our trunks. " There is none belonging to the house." wrid he ; " every man is his own porter here." I returned to the Parker House, shouldered a heavy trunk, took a valise in my hand nd carried them to my quarters, in the teeth of the wind. Our room was in a sort of garret over the only story of the hotel ; twc cots, evidently of California manufacture, and covered only with ft pair of blankets, two chairs, a rough table and a small looking- glass, constituted the furniture. There was not space enough between the bed and the bare rafters overhead, to sit upright, and I gave myself a severe blow in rising the next morning without the proper heed. Through a small roof-window of dun glass, I could see the opposite shore of the bay, then partly hidden by the evening fogs. The wind whistled around the eaves and rattled the tiles with a cold, gusty sound, that would have imparted a dreary character to the place, had I been in a mood to listen. Many of the passengers began speculation at the moment of landing. The most ingenious and successful operation was made by a gentleman of New York, who took out fifteen hundred copies of The Tribune and other papers, which he disposed of in two hours, at one dollar a-piece ! Hearing of this I bethought me of about a dozen papers which I had used to fill up crevices in pack- ing my valise. There was a newspaper merchant at the corner of the City Hotel, and to him I proposed the sale of them, asking him to name a price. " I shall want to make a good profit on the retail price," said he, " and can't give more than ten dollars for the lot." I was satisfied with the wholesale price, which was a gain of just four thousand per cent ! I set out for a walk brfore dark and climbed a hill back of THE NEW-COMER'S BEWILDERMENT. 57 the town, passing a number of tents pitched ji the hollows The scattered houses spread out below me and the crowded shipping in the harbor, backed by a lofty line of mountains, made an imposing picture. The rfistless, feverish tide of life in that little spot, and the thought that what I then saw and was yet to see will hereafter fill one of the most marvellous pages of all history, rendered it singularly impressive. The feeling was not decreased on talking that evening with some of the old residents, (that is, of six months' standing,) and hearing their several experiences. Every new-comer in San Francisco is overtaken with a sense of complete bewilderment. The mind, however it Liay be prepared for an astonishing condition of affairs, cannot immediately push aside its old instincts of value and ideas of business, letting all past experiences go for naught and casting all its faculties for action, intercourse with its fellows or advance- ment in any path of ambition, into shapes which it never before imagined. As in the turn of the dissolving views, there is a period when it wears neither the old nor the new phase, but the vanishing images of the one and the growing perceptions of the other are blended in painful and misty confusion. One knows not whether he is awake or in some wonderful dream. Never have I had sc much difficulty in establishing, satisfactorily to my own uenses, the reality of what I saw and heard. I was forced to believe many things, which in my communica- tions to The Tribune I was almost afraid to write, with any hope of thjir obtaining credence. It may be interesting to give her* 1 a few instances of the enormous and unnatural value put upon property at the time of my arrival. The Parker House rented for $110,000 yearly, at least $60,000 of which was paid bj gamblers, who held nearly all the second stery. Adjoining it on o 96 ELDORADO. the right was a canvas-tent fifteen by twenty-five fwt, ca3ed u El dorado ," and occupied likewise by gamblers, which brought $40,000 On the opposite corner of the plaza, a building called the " Miner's Bank," used by Wright & Co., brokers, about half the size of a fire-engine house in New York, was held at a rent of $75,000. A mercantile house paid $40,000 rent for a one-story building of twenty feet front ; the United States Hotel, $36,000 ; the Post- Office, $7,000, and so on to the end of the chapter. A friend oi mine, who wished to find a place for a law-office, was shown a cellar in the earth, about twelve feet square and six deep, which he could have at $250 a month. One of the common soldiers at the battle of San Pasquale was reputed to be among the mil- lionaires of the place, with an income of $50,000 monthly. A citizen of San Francisco died insolvent to the amount of $41,000 the previous Autumn. His administrators were delayed iu .settling his affairs, and his real estate advanced so rapidly in value :neantiine, that after his debts were paid his heirs had a yearly income of $40,000. These facts were indubitably attested ; every oiie believed them, yet hearing them talked of daily, as matters of course, one at first could not help feeling as if he had been eating of " the insane root." The prices paid for labor were in proportion to everything else. The carman of Mellus, Howard & Co. had a salary of $6,000 a /ear, and many others made from $15 to $20 daily. Servants were paid from $100 to $200 a month, but the wages of th rougher kinds of labor had fallen to about $8. Yet, notwith- itanding the number of gold-seekers who were returning enfeebled and disheartened from the mines, it was difficult to obtain as many workmen as the forced growth of the city demanded. A gentle- man who arrived in Ipril told me he then found but thirty oi INDIFFERENT SHOPKEEPERS. 09 forty houses , the population was then so scant that not more than twenty-five persons would be seen in the streets at anyone time. Now, there were probably five hundred houses, tents and sheds, with a population, fixed and floating, of six thousand. People who had been absent six weeks came back and could scarcely recognize the place. Streets were regularly laid out, and already there were three piers, at which small vessels could discharge. It was calculated that the town increased daily by from fifteen to thirty houses ; its skirts were rapidly approaching the summits of the three hills on which it is located. A curious result of the extraordinary abundance of gold and the facility with which fortunes were acquired, struck me at the first glance. All business was transacted on so extensive a scale that the ordinary habits of solicitation and compliance on the one hand and stubborn cheapening on the other, seemed to be entirely forgotten. You enter a shop to buy something ; the owner eyes you with perfect indifference, waiting for you to state your want ; if you object to the price, you are at liberty to leave, for you need not expect to get it cheaper ; he evidently cares little whether you buy it or not. One who has been some time in the country will lay down the money, without wasting words. The only exception I found to this rule was that of a sharp-faced Down-Easter just opening his stock, who was much distressed when his clerk charged me seventy-five cents for a coil of rope, instead of one dollar. This disregard for all the petty arts of money-making was really a refreshing feature of society. Another equally agreeable trait was the punctuality with which debts were paid and the general confidence which men were obliged to place, perforce, in eaclj other's honesty. Perhaps this latter fact was wing, in part, to the impossibility of protecting wealth, and 60 consequent dependence on an honorable regard for the rights of others. About the hour of twilight the wind fell ; the sound of a gc ng called us to tea, which was served in the largest room of the hotel The fare was abundant and of much better quality than we ex pected better, in fact, than I was able to find there two months later. The fresh milk, butter and excellent beef of the countrj were real luxuries after our sea-fare. Thus braced against the fog and raw temperature, we sallied out for a night- view of San Francisco, then even more peculiar than its daylight look. Busi- ness was over about the usual hour, and then the harvest-time of the gamblers commenced. Every " hell" in the place, and I did not pretend to number them, was crowded, and immense sums were staked at the monte and faro tables. A boy of fifteen, in one place, won about $500, which he coolly pocketed and carried off. One of the gang we brought in the Panama won $1,500 in the course of the evening, and another lost $2,400. A fortu- nate miner made himself conspicuous by betting large piles of ounces on a single throw. His last stake of 100 oz. was lost, and I saw him the following morning dashing through the streets, try- ing to break his own neck or that of the magnificent garahon he bestrode. Walking through the town the next day, I was quite amazed to find a dozen persons busily employed in the street before tho United States Hotel, digging up the earth with knives and crumb- ling it in their hands. They were actual gold-hunters, who ob- tained in this way about $5 a day. After blowing the fine dir( Carefully in their hands, a few specks of gold were left, which they placed in a piece of white paper. A number of children wort engaged in the same business, picking out the finr> grains In STREET GOLD PEOPLE IN TOWN. 61 applying to them the head of a pin, moistened in their mouths I was told of a small boy having taken home $ 1 4 as the result of one day's labor. On climbing the hill to the Post Office I ob- perved in places, where the wind had swept away the sand, severa. gl : ttering dots of the real metal, but, like the Irishman who kicked the dollar out of his way, concluded to wait till I should reach the heap. The presence of gold in the streets was probably occa- sioned by the leakings from the miners' bags and the sweepings of stores ; though it may also be, to a slight extent, native in the earth, particles having been found in the clay thrown up from a deep well. The arrival of a steamer with a mail ran the usual excitement and activity of the town up to its highest possible notch. The little Post Office, half-way up the hill, was almost hidden from sight by the crowds that clustered around it. Mr. Moore, the new Postmaster, who was my fellow-traveler from New York, barred every door and window from the moment of his entrance, and with his sons and a few clerks, worked steadily for two days and two nights, till the distribution of twenty thousand letters wag completed. Among the many persons I met, the day after land- ing, was Mr. T. Butler King, who had just returned from an expedition to the placers, in company with General Smith. Mr Edwin Bryant, of Kentucky, and Mr. Durivage, of New Orleans, had arrived a few days previous, the former by way of the Great Salt Lake, and the latter by the northern provinces of Mexico jnd the Gila. I found the artist Osgood in a studio about eight feet square, with a head of Captain Sutter on his easel. He had given up gold-digging, after three months of successful labor among the mountains. I could make no thorough acquaintance with San Francisco 62 ELDORADO. during this first visit. Lieutenant Beale, who held important Government dispatches for Colonel Fremont, made arrangements to leave for San Jose on the second morning, and offered me a seat on the back of one of his mules. Our fellow-passenger Colonel Lyons, of Louisiana, joined us, completing the mystic number which travelers should be careful not to exceed. We made hasty tours through all the shops on Clay, Kearney, Wash- ington and Montgomery streets, on the hunt of the proper equip- ments. Articles of clothing were cheaper than they had been or were afterwards ; tolerable blankets could be had for $6 a pah- ; coarse flannel shirts, $3 ; Chilian spurs, with rowels two inches long, $5, and Mexican sarapes, of coarse texture but gay color, $10. We could find no saddle-bags hi the town, and were neces- sitated to pack one of the mules. Among our camping materials were a large hatchet and plenty of rope for making lariats ; in addition to which each of us carried a wicker flask slung over one shoulder. We laid aside our civilized attire, stuck long sheath- knives into our belts, put pistols into our pockets and holsters, and buckled on the immense spurs which jingled as they struck the ground at every step. Our " animals" were already in waiting ; an alazany the Californian term for a sorrel horse, a beautiful brown mule, two of a cream color and a dwarfish little fellow whose long forelock and shaggy mane gave him altogether ar elfish character of cunning and mischief. CHAPTER YE. TO THE SAN JOAQUIN, ON MULEBACK li wap noon before we got everything fairly in order and moved slowly away from the City Hotel, where a number of our fellow- passengers the only idlers in the place, because just arrived were collected to see us start. Shouldering our packs until we should be able to purchase an aparejo, or pack-saddle, from some Mexican on the road, and dragging after us two reluctant mules by their lariats of horse-hair, we climbed the first " rise," dividing the town from the Happy Valley. Here we found a party of So- norians encamped on the sand, with their mules turned loose and the harness scattered about them. After a little bargaining, we obtained one of their pack-saddles for eight dollars. Lieut. Beale jumped down, caught the little mule which to his great surprise he recognized as an old acquaintance among the Rocky Mountains during the previous winter and commenced packing. In mv seal to learn all the mysteries of mountain-life, I attempted to flight and assist him ; but alas ! the large rowel of my spur caught in the folds of a blanket strapped to the saddle, the girth slipped and I was ingloriously thrown on my back. The Sonorians laughed heartily, but came forward and re-adjusted the saddle with a willingness that reconciled me to their mirth. 64 ELDORADO. All was finally arranged and we urged our mules along in the sand, over hills covered with thickets of evergreen oak. The guns of the Ohio, fired for the obsequies of ex-president Polk, echoed among the mountains of the bay, and companies of horsemen, coming in from the interior, appeared somewhat startled at the wmnd. Three miles from San Francisco is the old Mission of Dolores, situated in a sheltered valley, which is watered by a per- petual stream, fed from the tall peaks towards the sea. As we descended a long sand-hill before reaching the valley, Picayune, DUT pack-mule, suddenly came to a stop. Lieut. Beale, who had i most thorough knowledge of mule-craft, dismounted and untied the lash-rope ; the pack had slightly shifted, and Picayun3, who was as knowing as he was perverse, would not move a step till it was properly adjusted. We now kept the two loose mules in ad- vance and moved forward in better order The mountains beyond the Mission are bleak and barren and the dire north-west wind., sweeping in from the sea through their gorges, chilled us to the bones as we rode over them. After ascending for some distance by a broad road, in which, at short intervals, lay the carcasses of mules and horses, attended by flocks of buzzards, we passed through a notch in the main chain, whence there was a grand look-out to the sea on one side, to the bay on the other. We were glad, however, to descend from these raw and gusty heights, along the sides of the mountains of Ban Bruno, to the fertile and sheltered plains of Santa Clara Large herds of cattle are pastured in this neighborhood, the grass in the damp flats and wild oats on the mountains, affording them sufficient food during the dry season. At Sanchez' Ranche, which we reached just before sunset, there was neither grass nor barley and we turned our mules supperless into the corral. The Serior? SCENERY OF THE INLAND. 65 Sanchez, after some persuasion, stirred up the fire in the mud kitchen and prepared for us a guisado of beef and onions, with some rank black tea. As soon as it was dark, we carried our equipments into the house, and by a judicious arrangement of our saddles, blankets and clothes, made a grand bed for three where we should have slept, had fleas been lobsters. But as they were fleas, of the largest and savagest kind, we nearly perished before morning. Rather than start for the day with starved ani- mals, we purchased half a fanega a little more than a bushel of wheat, for $5. Mr. Beale's horse was the only one who did justice to this costly feed, and we packed the rest on the back of little Picayune, who gave an extra groan when it was added to his load. Our road now led over broad plains, through occasional belts of timber. The grass was almost entirely burnt up, and dry, gravelly arroyos, in and out of which we went with a plunge-and a scramble, marked the courses of the. winter streams. The air was as warm and balmy as May, and fragrant with the aroma of a species of gnaphalium, which made it delicious to inhale. Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the high, sparsely-wooded mountains on either hand, showed softened and indistinct through a blue haze. The character of the scenery -was entirely new to me. The splendid valley, untenanted except by a few solitary ra:icheros living many miles apart, seemed to be some deserted location of ancient civilization and culture. The wooded slopes af the mountains are lawns, planted by Nature with a taste tc which Art could add no charm. The trees have nothing of the wild growth of our forests ; they are compact, picturesque, and grouped in every variety of graceful outline. The hills were covered to the summit with fields of wild oats, coloring them 66 ELDORADO as far as the eye could reach, with tawny gold, against which the dark, glossy green of the oak and cypress showed with peculiai effect. As we advanced further, these natural harvests extended over the plain, mixed with vast heds of wild mustard, eight feet in height, under which a thick crop of grass had sprung up, fur nishing sustenance to the thousands of cattle, roaming everywhere unherded. The only cultivation I saw was a small field of maize, green and with good ears. I never felt a more thorough, exhilarating sense of freedom than when first fairly afloat on these vast and beautiful plains. With the mule as my shallop, urged steadily onward past the tranquil isles and long promontories of timher ; drinking, with a delight that almost made it a flavor on the palate, the soft, elastic, fragrant air ; cut off, for the time, from every irksome requirement ol civilization, and cast loose, like a stray, unshackled spirit, on the bosom of a new earth, I seemed to take a fresh and more perfect lease of existence. The mind was in exquisite harmony with the outer world, and the same sensuous thrill of Life vibrated through each. The mountains showed themselves through the magical screen of the haze ; far on our left the bay made a faint, glim- mering line, like a rod of light, cutting off the hardly-seen hills beyond it, from the world ; and on all sides, from among the glossy clumps of bay and evergreen oak, the chirrup and cheery whistle of birds rang upon the air. After a ride of twenty-five miles without grass, water or sign o! habitation, we stopped to rest at a ranche, in the garden of which I found a fine patch of grape vines, laden with flourishing bunches. We watered our mules with a basket of Indian manufacture, sc closely plaited that scarcely a drop found its way through. Ai the ranche we met an amigrant returning from the mines, and RANCHES ON THE ROAD. 6*7 were strongly advdsed to turn back. He had evidently mistaken his capacity when he came to California. " You think you are very wise," said he, " and you'll believe nothing ; but it won't be Icng before you'll find out the truth of my words You'll have to deep on the ground every night and take care of your own animals; ted you may think yourselves lucky if you get your regular meals." We fully agreed with him in every respect, but he took it all for nbelieving irony. At Whisman's ranche, two miles further, we stopped to dinner. The sight of a wooden house gladdened oui eyes, and still more so that of the home-made bread, fresh butter and milk which Mrs. Whisman set before us. The family had lived there nearly two years and were well contented with the country. The men go occasionally to the mines and dig, but are prudent enough not to neglect their farming operations. The grass on the vega before the house was still thick and green, and a well fifteen feet deep supplied them with good water. The vegetables in their garden, though planted late, were growing finely ; the soil is a rich, dark loam, now as cracked and dry as a cinder, but which, under the Winter and Spring rains, is hidden by a deluge of vegetable bloom. As evening drew on the white spire of Santa Clara Mission >howed in the distance, and an hour's sharp riding brought us in tront of its old white-washed walls. The buildings, once very spacious in extent, are falling into ruin, and a single monk in the corridor, habited in a very dirty cowl and cassock, was the onlj saintly inhabitant we saw. The Mission estate, containing twenty- dve thousand head of cattle and many square leagues of land, was placed by Gen. Kearney in charge of Padre del Real, President of the Missions of the North. The Padre, however, exceeded hii powers by making leases of the Mission lan^ls to emigrants and others 68 ELDORADO. and de Ming the oroceeds to the benefit of the Church Personal. At the time we passed, several frame houses had sprung up around the Mission, on grounds thus leased. Beyond the build- ings, vre entered a magnificent road, three miles in length, and shaded by an avenue of evergreen oaks, leading, to Pueblo San Jose, which we reached at dusk. Pueblo San Jose, situated about five miles from the southern extremity of the Bay of San Francisco, and in the mouth of the beautiful valley of San Jose, is one of the most flourishing inland towns in California. On my first *isit, it was mainly a collection of adobe houses, with tents and a few clapboard dwellings, of the season's growth, scattered over a square half-mile. As we were entering, I noticed a little white box, with pillars and triangular fayade in front, and remarked to my friend that it had certainly been taken bodily from Lynn and set down there. Truly enough t it was a shoe store ! Several stores and hotels had been opened within a few weeks, and the price of lots was only lower than those of San Francisco. We rode into an open plaza, a quarter of a mile in length, about which the town was built, and were directed to the Miner's Home, a decent-looking hotel, near its northern ond. Our mules were turned into a stable at hand ; tea, with the substantial addition of beefsteak, was served to us, and lighting the calumet, we lounged on the bench at the door, enjoying that repose which is only tasted after wearisome travel Lieut. Beak went off to seek Col. Fremont, who was staying at the house of Mr. Grove Cook ; Col. Lyons and myself lay down on the floor kmong half a dozen other travelers and fleas which could not b counted. In the morning we went with Lieut. Beale to call upon Col Fremont, whom we found on the portico of Mr Cook's house, COLONEL FREMONT. 69 wearing a sombrero and Californian jacket, and showing no trace of the terrible hardships he had lately undergone. It may Le in- teresting to the thousands who have followed him, as readers may, on his remarkable journeys and explorations for the past eighri years, to know that he is a man of about thirty -five years of age , of medium height, and lightly, but most compactly knit in fact, I have seen in no other man the qualities of lightness, activity, strength and physical endurance in so perfect an equilibrium. His face is rather thin and embrowned by exposure ; his nose a bold aquiline and his eyes deep-set and keen as a hawk's. The rough camp-life of many years has lessened in no degree his na live refinement of character and polish of manners. A stranger would never suppose him to be the Columbus of our central wildernesses, though when so informed, would believe it without surprise. After the disastrous fate of his party on the head waters of the Rio del Norte, Col. Fremont took the southern route through Sonora, striking the Gila River at the Pimos Village. It was ex- ceedingly rough and fatiguing, but he was fortunate enough to find in the bottoms along the river, where no vegetation had been heard of or expected, large patches of wild wheat. The only supposition by which this could be accounted for, was that it feD from the store-wagons attached to Major Graham's command, which passed over the route the previous autumn. Otherwise, the bursting forth of a river in the midst of the Great Desert, rhijh I have already mentioned, and the appearance of wheat wnong the sterile sands of the Gila, would seem like a marvelloiM coincidence, not wholly unsui^ed to the time. Col. Fremont had just returned from the Mariposa River, where his party of mei was successfully engaged in gold-digging In addition, he had coin 70 ELDORADO. menoed a more secnie business, in the establishment of a steam saw-mill at Pueblo San Jose. The forests of redwood close at hand make fine timber, and he had a year's work engaged before the mill was in operation. Lumber was then bringing $500 pel tl ousand feet, and not long before brought $1,500. At the house of Mr. Cook we also saw Andrew Sublette, the celebrated mountaineer, who accompanied Lieut. Beale on hi overland journey, the winter before. He was lame from scurvy brought on by privations endured on that occasion and his subse- quent labors in the placers. Sublette, who from his bravery and daring has obtained among the Indians the name of Kee-ta-tah- ve-sak, or One-who-walks-in-fire, is a man of about thirty-seven, of fair complexion, long brown hair and beard, and a countenance expressing the extreme of manly frankness and integrity. Lieut. Beale, who has the highest admiration of his qualities, related to me many instances of his heroic character. Preuss and Kreuz- feldt, Fremont's old campaigners, who so narrowly escaped per- ishing among the snows of the central chain, were at the Miner's Home, at the time of our stay. About noon we saddled our mules, laid in a stock of provisions and started for Stockton. At the outset, it was almost impossible to keep the animals in order ; Picayune, in spite of his load, dashed out into the mustard fields, and Ambrose, our brown mule, led us off in all sorts of zigzag chases. The man to whom we had paid $2 a head for their night's lodging and fare, had absolutely rtarved them, and the poor beasts resisted our efforts to make them travel. In coursing after them through the tall weeds, we got ofl the trail, and it was some time before we made much progress towards the Mission of San Jose. The valley, fifteen miles in oreadth, is well watered and may be made to produce the fines! A 8ONORIAN COMRADE. 71 wheat crops in the world. It is perfectly level and dotted all over its surface with clumps of magnificent oaks, cypresses and syca- mores. A few miles west of the Pueblo there is a large forest oi red wood, or California cypress, and the quicksilver mines of Santa Clara are in the same vicinity. Sheltered from the cold winds oi the sea, the climate is like that of Italy. The air is a fluid balm . Before traveling many miles we overtook a Sonorian riding on his burro or jackass, with a wooden bowl hanging to the saddle and a crowbar and lance slung crosswise before him. We offered him the use of our extra mule if he would join us. to which he gave a willing consent. Burro was accordingly driven loose laden with the gold-hunting tools, and our Bedouin, whom we christened Tompkins, trotted beside us well pleased. At the Mission of San Jose we dispatched him to buy meat, and for half a dollar he brought us at least six yards, salted and slightly dried for trans- portation. The Mission a spacious stone building, with court- yard and long corridors is built upon the lower slope of the mountains dividing San Francisco Bay from the San Joaquin valley, and a garden extends behind it along the banks of a little stream. The sight of a luxuriant orchard peeping over the top of its mud walls, was too tempting to be resisted, so, leaving Lieutenant Beale to jog ahead with Tompkins and the loose animals, Colone' Lyons and myself rode up the hill, scrambled over and foum, ourselves in a wilderness of ripening fruit. Hundred*, of peai and apple trees stood almost breaking with their harvest, which lay rotting by cart-loads on the ground. Plums, grapes, figs? and other fruits, not yet ripened, filled the garden. I shall nevor forget how grateful the pears of San Jose were to our parched throats, nor what an alarming quantity we ate before we found it 72 ELDORADO. possible to stop. I have been told that the garden is irrigated during the ivy season, and that where this method is practicable, fruit trees of all kinds can be made to yield to a remarkable extent. Immediately on leaving the Mission we struck into a narrow canon among the mountains, and following its windings reached the " divide," or ridge which separates the streams, in an hour. From the summit the view extended inland over deep valleys and hazy mountain ranges as far as the vision could reach. Lines of beautiful timber followed the course of the arroyos down the sides, streaking the yellow hue of the wild oats, which grew as thickly as an ordinary crop at home. Descending to a watered valley, we heard some one shouting from a slope on our left, where a herd of cattle was grazing. It was Lieut. Beale, who had chosen our camping-ground in a little glen below, under a cluster of oaks. .We unpacked, watered our mules, led them up a steep ascent, and picketed them in a thick bed of oats. I had taken the lash- rope, of plaited raw-hide, for the purpose of tethering Ambrose, but Tompkins, who saw me, cried : " Ouidado ! hay bastantt coyotes aqui" (Take care ! there are plenty of coyotes here) which animals invariably gnaw in twain all kinds of ropes except hemp and horse-hair. The picketing done, we sot about cooking our supper ; Tompkins was very active in making the fire, and when aL was ready, produced a good dish of stewed beef and tortillas, to which we added some ham, purchased in San Jose *t eighty cents the pound. We slept under the brandling curtains of our glen chamber, wakened only once or twice by the bowling of the coyotes and the sprinkling of rain in our faces By sunrise we had breakfast and started again. The first twenty miles of our journey passed through one of CROSSING THE COAST RANGE. 73 the most beautiful regions in the world. The broad oval valleys, shaded by magnificent oaks and enclosed by the lofty mountains of the Coast Range, open beyond each other like a suite of palace chambers, each charming more than the last. The land in admirably adapted for agricultural or grazing purposes, and hi a few years will become one of the most flourishing districts hi California. We passed from these into hot, scorched plains, separated by low ranges of hills, on one of which is situated Livermore's D ' Ranche, whose owner, Mr. Livermore, is the oldest American resident in the country, having emigrated thither in 1820. He is married to a native woman, and seems to have entirely outgrown his former habits of life. We obtained from him dinner for ourselves and mules at $2 25 each ; and finding there was neither grass nor water for twenty-five miles, made an early start for our long afternoon's ride. The road entered another canon, through which we toiled for miles before reaching the last " divide." On the summit we met several emigrant companies with wagons, coming from Sutter's Mill. The children, as brown and wild- looking as Indians, trudged on in the dust, before the oxen, and several girls of twelve years old, rode behind on horses, keeping together the loose animals of the party. Their invariable greeting was : " How far to water ?" From the top of the divide we hailed with a shout the great plain of San Joaquin, visible through the openings among the nills, like a dark-blue ocean, to which the leagues of wild rats o ade a vast beach of yellow sand. At least a hundred miles of its surface were visible, and the hazy air, made more dense by the emoke of the burning tule marshes, alone prevented us from seeing the snowy outline of the Sierra Nevada After descending VOL. i. 4 74 ELDORADO and traveling a dozen miles on the hot, arid leve., we reached a slough making out from the San Joaquin. The sun had long been down, but a bright quarter-moon was in the sky, by whose light we selected a fine old tree for our place of repose A tent, belonging to some other travelers, was pitched at a little distance, Feeling the ground with our hands to find the spots where tl e grass was freshest, we led our mules into a little tongue of meadow-land, half-embraced by the slough, and tied them to the low branches, giving them the full benefit of their tether. Tomp- kins complained of illness, and rolling himself in his sarape, lay down on the plain, under the open sky. We were too hungry to dispose of the day so quickly ; a yard of jerked beef was cut off, and while Lieut. Beale prepared it for cooking, Col. Lyons and my- self wandered about in the shadow of the trees, picking up every- thing that cracked under our feet. The clear red blaze of the fire made our oak-tree an enchanted palace. Its great arms, that arched high above us and bent down till they nearly reached the ground, formed a hollow dome around the columnar trunk, which was fretted and embossed with a thousand ornaments of foliage. The light streamed up, momentarily, reddening the deeps within deeps of the bronze-like- leaves ; then sinking low again, the sha- dows returned and the stars winked brightly between the wreathed mullions of our fantastic windows. The meal finished, we went towards the tent in our search for water. Several sleepers, rolled in their blankets, were stretched under the trees, and two of them, to our surprise, were enjoying the luxury of musquito bars. On the bank of the slough, we found a shallow well, covered with dead boughs ; Lieut. Beale, stretching his hand down towards the water, took hold of a snake, which was even more startled than he. Our quest was repaid by THE MOSQUITOS AND THE FERRY. 76 a hearty draught, notwithstanding its earthy flavor, and we betook ourselves to sleep. The mosquitos were terribly annoying ; aftei many vain attempts to escape them, I was forced to roll a blanket round my head, by which means I could sleep till I began to smother, and then repeat the operation. Waking about mid- night, confused and flushed with this business, I saw the moon, looming fiery and large on the horizon " Surely," thought I, with a half-awake wandering of fancy, " the moon has been bitten by mosquitos, and that is the reason why her face is so swollen and inflamed." Five miles next morning took us to the San Joaquin, which was about thirty yards in width. Three Yankees had " squatted" at the crossing, and established a ferry ; the charge for carrying over a man and horse was $2, and as this route was much traveled, their receipts ranged from $500 to $1,000 daily. In addition to this, they had a tavern and grazing camp-, which were very pro- fitable. They built the ferry-boat, which was a heavy flat, hauled across with a rope, with their own hands, as well as a launch of sixty tons, doing a fine business between Stockton and San Fran- cisco. Tompkins, who perhaps imagined that some witchcraft of ours had occasioned his illness, here left us, and we saw bis swarthy face no more. Disengaging our loose mules from a corral full of horses, into which they had dashed, from a sudden freak of affection, we launched into another plain, crossed in alJ direc- tions by tule swamps, and made towards a dim shoie of tiipbei twelve miles distant. CHAPTER VIII, CAMP-LIFE, 4.ND A RIDE TO THE DIGGINGS. As vre. came off the scorching calm of the plain in to tie shadow Df the trees, we discerned two tents ahead, on a gentle knoll This was the camp of Major Graham, who commanded the expe- dition sent from Monterey, Mexico, overland into California, in the summer of 1848. He was employing a little time, before re- turning home, in speculating on his own account and had estab- lished himself near Stockton with a large herd of horses and cattle, on which he was making good profits. Lieut. Beale was an old acquaintance of the Major's, and as friends of the former we were made equally welcome. We found him sitting on a camp-stool, outside the tent, wearing a hunting-jacket and broad-brimmed white hat. With a prompt hospitality that would take no denial, he ordered our mules driven out to his caballada, had our packs piled up in the shade of one of his oaks, and gave directions for dinner. For four days thereafter we saw the stars through his tree-tops, between our dreams, and shared the abundant fare of his camp-table, varying the delightful repose of such life by an occasional gallop into Stockton. Mr. Callahan, an old settler, who had pitched his tent near Major Graham's, went out every morning to hunt elk among the tule, and we were daily supplied with steaks 8TOCKTJN 77 and cutlets from his spoils. In the early morning the elk might be seen in bands of forty or fifty, grazing on the edge of the marshes, where they were sometimes lassoed by the native vaqae- ros, and taken into Stockton. We saw the coyotes occasionally prowling along the margin of the slough, but they took good cart to sneak off before a chance could be had to shoot them The plain was perforated in all directions by the holes of a large bur- rowing squirrel, of a gray color, and flocks of magpies and tufted partridges made their covert hi the weeds and wild oats. Our first visit to Stockton was made in company, on some ol Major Graham's choicest horses. A mettled roan avnalo fell to my share, and the gallop of five miles without check was most in spiring. A view of Stockton was something to be remembered. There, in the heart of California, where the last winter stood a solitary ranche in the midst of tule marshes, I found a canvas town of a thousand inhabitants, and a port with twenty-five vessels at anchor ! The mingled noises of labor around the click of of hammers and the grating of saws the shouts of mule drivers the jingling of spurs the jar apd jostle of wares in the tents almost cheated me into the belief that it was some old commercial mart, familiar with such soun'ls for years past. Four months, only, had sufficed to make the place what it was ; and in that tune a wholesale firm established there (one out of a dozen) had done business to the amount of $100,000. The same party had just purchased a lot eighty by one hundred feet, on the principal street, for $6,000, and the cost of erecting a common one-story clapboard house on it was $15,000. I can liken my days at Major Graham's camp to no previous phase of my existence. They were the realization of a desire sometime? felt, sometimes expressed in poetry, but rarely enjoyed 78 ELDORADO. k complete fulfilment. In the repose of Nature, unbroken da} or night ; the subtle haze pervading the air, softening all sights and subduing all sounds ; the still, breathless heat of the day and the starry hush of the night the oak-tree was for me a perfect Castle of Indolence. Lying at full length on the ground, in list- less ease, whichever way I looked my eye met the same enchanting groupage of the oaks, the same glorious outlines and massed sha- dows of foliage ; while frequent openings, through the farthest clumps, gave boundless glimpses of the plain beyond. Scarcely a leaf stirred in the slumberous air ; and giving way to the deli- cate languor that stole in upon my brain, I seemed to lie apart from my own mind and to watch the lazy waves of thought that sank on its shores without a jar. All effort even the memory ol effort came like a sense of pain. It was an abandonment to rest, like that of the " Lotos-Eaters," and the feeling of th ISG lines, not the words, was with me constantly : " Why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things, And make perpetual moan, Still from one sorrow to another thrown ; Nor ever fold our wings And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm : Nor harken what the inner spirit sings, ' There is no joy but ca.tn !' " There is one peculiarity about the Californian oaks, which I do not remember to have seen noticed. In the dry heat of the lont rommer seasons, their fibre becomes brittle, and frequently at noon-day, when not a breath of air is stirring, one of 'their stout arms parts from the trunk without the slightest warning sound, ROCKY MOUNTAIN MEN 79 and drops bodily to the earth. More than one instance is related, in which persons have been killed by their fall. For this reason the native Califbrnians generally camp outside of the range of the limbs. After discussing our further plans, it was decided to visit the Mokelumne Diggings, which were the most accessible from Stock- ton. Accordingly, on Monday morning, our mules were driven in from the plain and saddled for the journey. The sun was shining hotly as we rode over the plain to Stockton, and the tent- streets of the miraculous town glowed like the avenues of a brick- Kiln. The thermometer stood at 98, and the parched, sandy soil burnt through our very boot-soles. We therefore determined to wait till evening before starting for another stage to the Moke- lumne. While waiting in the tent of Mr. Belt, the alcalde of the place, I made acquaintance with two noted mountaineers Mr William Knight, the first man who followed in the track of Lewis and Clark, on the Columbia Kiver, and White Elliott, a young Missourian, who for ten years had been rambling through New Mexico and the Rocky Mountains. The latter had been one of Taeut. Beale's men on the Grila, and the many perils they then shared gave their present meeting a peculiar interest. Elliott, who, young as he was, had undergone everything that could harden and toughen a man out of all sensibility, colored like a young girl ; his eyes were wet and he scarcely found voice to speak. I had many opportunities of seeing him afterwards and appreciating his thorough nobleness and sincerity of character. Mr, Raney, who had just established a line of conveyance to the Mokelumne, kindly offered to accompany us as far as his ranche on the Calaveras River, twenty-four miles distant "W( started at four o'clock, when a pleasant breeze had sprung op 80 ELDORADO. and rode on over the level plain, through beautiful groves of oak The trail was crossed by deep, dry arroyos, which, in th< rainj season, make the country almost impassable ; now, however, the very beds of the tule marshes were beginning to dry up The aii was thicker than evei with the smoke of burning tule, and as we journeyed along in the hazy moonlight, the lower slopes of the mountains were not visible till we reached Mr. Raney's ranche, which lies at their base. We gave our tired mules a good feed of barley, and, after an excellent supper which he had prepared, be- took ourselves to rest. The tent was made of saplings, roofed with canvas, but had cost $1,000 ; the plain all around was covered deep with dust, which the passing trains of mules kept constantly in the air. Nevertheless, for the first time in several days, we slept in a bed the bed of Calaveras River, and in the deepest hollow of its gold-besprinkled sands. The stream, which in the spring is thirty feet deep, was perfectly dry, and the timber on its banks made a roof far above, which shut out the wind and sand, but let in the starlight. Heaping the loose gravel for pil- lows, we enjoyed a delightful sleep, interrupted only once by the howling of a large gray wolf, prowling in the thickets over us. While waiting for breakfast, I saw a curious exemplification of the careless habits of the miners, in regard to money. On* of the mule-drivers wanted to buy a pistol which belonged to an- other, and as the article was in reality worth next to nothing, offered him three dollars for it. "I will sell nothing for suoh a beggarly sum," said the owner: "you are welcome to take the pistol." The other took it, but laid the three dollars on a log, say- ing : " you must take it, for I shall never touch it again." " Well," W&B the reply, " then I'll do what I please with it ;" and he flung the dollars into the road and walked away. An Irishman who FIERY TRAVEL THE MULE'S HEART. 81 stood by, raked in the dust for some time, but only rejjvered about half the money. Leaving the ranche soon after sunrise, we entered the hills. The country was dotted with picturesque clumps of oak, and, as th: ground became higher and more broken, with pines of splen did growth. Around their feet were scattered piles of immense cones, which had been broken up for the sake of the spicy kernels they contain. Trails of deer could be seen on all the hills, lead- ing down to chance green spots in the hollows, which a month since furnished water. Now, however, the ground was parched as in a furnace ; the vegetation snapped like glass under the hoofs of our mules, and the cracks and seams in the arid soil seemed to give out an intense heat from some subterranean fire. In the glens and canadaSj where the little air stirring was vmt off, the mercury rose to 110 ; perspiration was dried as soon as formed, and I began to think I should soon be done to a turn. After traveling about fourteen miles, we were joined by three miners, and our mules, taking a sudden liking for their horses, jogged on at a more brisk rate. The instincts of the mulish heart form an interesting study to the traveler in the mountains. I would, were the comparison not too ungallant, liken it to a wo- man's, for it is quite as uncertain in its sympathies, bestowing its affections where least expected, and wJ^en bestowed, quite as con- stant, so long as the object is not taken away Sometimes a horse, sometimes an ass, captivates the fancy of a whole drove of mules ; but often an animal nowise akin. Lieut. Beale told me that his whole train of mules once took a stampede on the plains of the Cimarone, and ran half a mile, when they halted in apparent satis faction. The cause of their freak was found to be a buffalo calf, which had strayed from the herd They were frisking around it 4* 82 ELDORADO. in the greatest delight, rubhing their noses against it, throwing uj their heels and making themselves ridiculous by abortive attempts to neigh and bray, while the poor calf, unconscious of its attractive qualities, stood trembling in their midst. It is customary to have a horse in the atajos, or mule-trains, of the traders in Northern Mexico, as a sort of magnet to keep together the separate atoms of the train, for, whatever .the temptation, they will never stray far from him. We turned from the main road, which led to the Upper Bar nd took a faint trail leading over the hills to the Lower Bar. The winding canon up which we passed must be a paradise in Spring ; even at the close of August the dry bed of the stream was shaded by trees of every picturesque form that a painter could desire. Crossing several steep spurs, we reached the top of the divide overlooking the Mokelumne Valley, and here one oi the most charming mountain landscapes in the world opened to our view. Under our very feet, as it seemed, flowed the river, and a little corner of level bottom, wedged between the bases of the hills, was dotted with the tents of the gold-hunters, whom we could see burrowing along the water. The mountains, range behind range, spotted with timber, made a grand, indistinct background in the smoky air, a large, fortress-like butte, toward the Cosumne River, the most prominent of all. Had the atmos- phere been clearer, the snowy crown of the Nevada, beyond all, rould have made the picture equal to any in Tyrol. Coming down the almost perpendicular side of the hill, my addle began to slip over the mule's straight shoulders, and, dis- Mounting, I waded the rest of the way knee-deep hi dust. Neai the bottom we came upon the Sonorian Town, as it was called, from the number of Mexican miners encamped there. The place ARRIVAL AT THE DIGGINGS. 83 which was a regularly laid-out town of sapling houses, without walls and roofed with loose oak boughs, had sprung np in the wilderness in three weeks : there were probably three hundred persons living in or near it. Under the open canopies of oak we heard, as we passed along, the jingle of coin at the monte tablep, and saw crowds gathered to watch the progress of the game One of the first men Lieutenant Beale saw was Baptiste Perrot, a mountaineer who had been in his overland party. He kept a hotel, which was an open space under a branch roof ; the appliances were two tables of rough plank, (one for meals and one for monte,) with logs resting on forked limbs as seats, and a bar of similar materials, behind which was ranged a goodly stocu of liquors and preserved previsions. We tethered our mules to i stump in the rear of the hotel, hastened supper, and made oui selves entirely at home. CHAPTER IX. THE DIGGINGS ON MOKELUMNE RIVEB. OUR first move was for the river bottom, where a number of Americans, Sonorians, Kanakas and French were at work in the hot sun. The bar, as. it was called, was nothing more nor less than a level space at the junction of the river with a dry arroy or " gulch,'' which winds for about eight miles among the hilla It was hard and rocky, witk no loose sand except such as had lodged between the large masses of stone, which must of course be thrown aside to get at the gold. The whole space, containing about four acres, appeared to have been turned over with great labor, and all the holes slanting down between the broken strata of slate, to have been explored to the bottom. No spot could ap- pear more unpromising to the inexperienced gold-hunter. Yet the Sonorians, washing out the loose dust and dirt which they scraped up among the rocks, obtained from $10 to two ounces daily. The first party we saw had just succeeded in cutting a new channel for the shrunken waters of the Mokelumne, an I were commencing operations on about twenty yards of the river-bed, which they had laid bare. They were ten hi number, and their only implements were shovels, a rude cradle for the top layer of earth, and flat wooden bowls for washing out the sands. Bap GOLD IN THE RIVER-BED. 85 tiste took one of .he bowls which was full of sand, and in five minuter showed us a dozen grains of bright gold. The company had made in the forenoon about three pounds ; we watched them at their work till the evening, when three pounds more werf produced, making an average of seven ounces for each man. Tht gold was of the purest qurlity and most beautiful color. When 1 fii st saw the men, carrying heavy stones in the sun, standing nearlj waist-deep in water, and grubbing with their hands in the gravel and slay, there seemed to me little virtue in resisting the tempta- tion to gold digging ; but when the shining particles were poured out lavishly from a tin basin, I confess there was a sudden itching in my fingers to seize the heaviest crowbar and the biggest shovel. A company of thirty, somewhat further down the river, had made a much larger dam, after a month's labor, and a hundred yards of the bed were clear. They commenced washing in the afternoon and obtained a very encouraging result. The next morning, however, they quarreled, as most companies do, and finally applied to Mr. James and Dr. Gillette, two of the prin- cipal operators, to settle the difficulty by having the whole bed washed out at their own expense and taking half the gold. As all the heavy work was done, the contractors expected to make a considerable sum by the operation. Many of the Americans em- ployed Sonorians and Indians to work for them, giving them half the gold and finding them in provisions. Notwithstanding the enormous prices of every article of food, these people could be kept for about a dollar daily consequently those who hire them profited handsomely. After we had taken the sharp edge off our curiosity, we re- turned to our quarters. Dr. Gillette, Mr. James, Captain Tracy and several other of the miners entertained us with a hospitalitf 86 ELDORAD6. as gratifying as it was unexpected. In the evening we sat dowt to a supper prepared by Baptiste and his partner, Mr. Fisher, which completed my astonishment at the resources of that won- derful land. There, in the rough depth of the hills, where three weeks hefore there was scarcely a tent, and where we expected to live on jerked beef and bread, we saw on the table green corn, green peas and beans, fresh oysters, roast turkey, fine Goshen butter and excellent coffee. I will not pretend to say what they cost, but I began to think that the fable of Aladdin was nothing very remarkable, after all. The genie will come, and had come to many whom I saw in California ; but the rubbing of the lamp aye, there's the rub. There is nothing in the world so hard on the hands. I slept soundly that night on the dining-table, and went down early to the river, where I found the party of ten bailing out the water which had leaked into the river-bed during the night. They were standing in the sun, and had two hours' hard work be- fore they could begin to wash. Again the prospect looked unin- viting, but when I went there again towards noon, one of them was scraping up the sand from the bed with his knife, and throw- ing it into a basin, the bottom of which glittered with gold. Every knifeful brought out a quantity of grains and scales, some of which were as large as the finger-nail. At last a two-ounce lump fell plump into the pan, and the diggers, now in the besrt possible humor, went on with their work with great alacrity. Their forenoon's digging amounted to nearly six pounds. It in only by such operations as these, through associated labor, that great profits are to be made in those districts which have been visited by the first eager horde of gold hunters. The deposits most easily reached are soon exhausted by the crowd, and th<- THE 8ONORIAN8. 87 labor required to carry on further work successfully deters singlt individuals from attempting it Those who, retaining theii health, return home disappointed, say they have been humbugged about the gold, when in fact, they have humbugged themselves about the work. If any one expects to dig treasures out of the earth, in California, without severe labor, he is wofully mistaken Of all classes of men, those who pave streets and quarry limestone are best adapted for gold diggers. Wherever there is gold, there are gamblers. Our little village boasted of at least a dozen monte tables, all of which were fre- quented at night by the Americans and Mexicans. The Sono- rians left a large portion of their gold at the gaming tables, though it was calculated they had taken $5,000,000 out of the country during the summer. The excitement against them pre- vailed also on the Mokelumne, and they were once driven away ; they afterwards quietly returned, and in most cases worked in companies, for the benefit and under the protection of some American. They labor steadily and faithfully, and are considered honest, if well watched. The first colony of gold-hunters at- tempted to drive out all foreigners, without distinction, as well as native Californians. Don Andres Pico, who was located on the same river, had some difiiculty with them until they could be nade to understand that his right as a citizen was equal to theirs Dr. Gillette, to whom we were indebted for many kind atten- tions, related to me the manner of his finding the rich gulch which attracted so many to the Mokelumne Diggings. The word gulch, which is in general use throughout the diggings, may not e familiar to many ears, though its sound somehow expresses its meaning, without further definition. It denotes a mountain ravine differing from ravines elsewhere as the mountains of California 88 ELDORADO. differ from all others more steep, abrupt and inaccessible. The sound of gulch is like that of a sudden plunge into a deep nole which is just the character of the thing itself. It bears the same relation to a ravine that a " cafion" does to a pass or gorge. About two months previous to our arrival, Dr. Gillette camn down from the Upper Bar with a companion, to " prospect" for gold among the ravines in the neighborhood. There were no persons there at the time, except some Indians belonging to the tribe of Jose Jesus. One day at noon, while resting in the shade of a tree, Dr. Gr. took a pick and began carelessly turning up the ground. Almost on the surface, he struck and threw out a lump of gold of about two pounds weight. Inspired by this unexpected result, they both went to work, laboring all that day and the next, and even using part of the night to quarry out the heavy pieces of rock. At the end of the second day they went to the village on the Upper Bar and weighed their profits, which amounted to fourteen pounds ! They started again the third morning under pretence of hunting, but were suspected and followed by the other diggers, who came upon them just as they commenced work. The news rapidly spread, and there was soon a large number of men on the spot, some of whom obtained several pounds per day, at the start. The gulch had been well dug up for the large lumps, but there was still great wealth in the earth and sand, and several operators only waited for the wet season to work it in a systematic manner. The next day Col. Lyons, Dr. Gillette and myself set out on a visit to the scene of these rich discoveries. Climbing up the rocky bottom of the gulch, as by a staircase, for four miles, we found nearly every part of it dug up and turned over by the picks of the miners. Deep holes, sunk between the sclH strata THE PROCESS OF DRY-WASHING. 89 or into the precipitous sides of the mountains, showed -where reins of the metal had been struck and followed as long as they yielded lumps large enough to pay for the labor. The loose earth, which they had excavated, was full of fine gold, and only needed washing out. A number of Sonorians were engaged in dry washing this refuse sand a work which requires no little skill, and would soon kill any other men than these lank and skinny Arabs of the West Their mode of work is as follows : Gathering the loose dry sand in bowls, they raise it to their heads and slowly pour it upon a blanket spread at their feet. Repeating this several times, and throwing out the worthless pieces of rock, they reduce the dust to about half its bulk ; then, balancing the bowl on one hand, by a quick, dexterous motion of the other they cause it to revolve, at the same time throwing its contents into the air and catching them as they fall. In this manner everything is finally winnowed away except the heavier grains of sand mixed with gold, which ia carefully separated by the breath. It is a laborious occupation, and one which, fortunately, the American diggers have not at- tempted. This breathing the fine dust from day to day, under a more than torrid sun, would soon impair the strongest lungs. We found many persons at work in the higher part of the gulch, earching for veins and pockets of gold, in the holes which had already produced their first harvest. Some of these gleaners, following the lodes abandoned by others at? exhausted, into the sides of the mountain, were well repaid for their perseverance Others, again, had been working for days without finding anything. Those who understood the business obtained from one to foul outces daily. Their only tools were the crowbar, jick and knife, and many of them, following the veins under strata of rock whicl lay deep below the surface, were obliged to work while lying flaf 92 ELt, RADO hard work gave him enough to start on, and two months, with the usual luck, quite reinstated him. The largest piece found in the rich gulch weighed elerer pounds. Mr. James, who had been on the river since April, showed me a lump weighing sixty-two ounces pure, unadul- terated gold. We had a visit one day from Don Andres Pico commander of the California forces during the war. He had a company of men digging at the Middle Bar, about a mile above. He is an urbane, intelligent man, of medium stature, and of a natural gentility of character which made him quite popular among the emigrants. From all I saw and heard, while at the Mokelumne Diggings, I judged there was as much order and security as could be attained without a civil organization. The inhabitants had elected one of their own number Alcalde, before whom all culprits were tried by a jury selected for the purpose. Several thefts had occurred, and the offending parties been severely punished after a fair trial Some had been whippo.d and cropped, or maimed in some other way, and one or two ot ihem hung. Two or three who had stolen largely had beej shot down by the injured party, the gen- eral feeling among the mint/rf justifying such a course when no other seemed available. We Met near Livcrmore's Ranche, on the way to Stockton, a man vhorfe heaJ had been shaved and his oars cut off, after receiving one hundred lashes, for stealing ninety- eight pounds of gold. It may conflict with popular ideas of mo- rality, but, nevertheless, this extreme course appeared to have produced good results. In fact, in a countiy without not only bolts and bars, but any effective system of law and government. this Spartan severity of discipline seemed the only security against the most frightful disorder. The resiilt was that, except some pott) COST OF OUR VISIT. 93 acts of larceny, thefts were rare. Horses and mules were some* times taken, but the risk was so great that such plunder could not be carried on to any extent. The camp or tent was held invio- late, and like the patriarchal times if old, its cover protected all it enclosed. Among all well-disposed persons there was a tacit disposition to make the canvas or pavilion of rough oak-boughs as sacred as once were the portals of a church. Our stay was delayed a day by the illness of Lieut. Beale, who had been poisoned a few days previous by contact with the rhu% tozicodendron, which is very common in California. His impa- tience to reach San Francisco was so great that on Saturday after- coou we got ready to return to Stockton. Our bill at the hotei nras $ 1 1 a day for man and mule $4 for the man and $7 for the mule. This did not include lodgings, which each traveler was ez- pected to furnish for himself. Some slight medical attendance, furnished to Lieut. Beale, was valued at $48. The high price of mule-keep was owing to the fact of barley being $1 per quart and grass $1 per handful. Dr. Gillette took a lame horse which had just come down from a month's travel among the snowy ridges, where his rider had been shot with an Indian arrow, and set out to accompany us as far as Stockton. One of our mules, which was borrowed for the occasion at Raney's Ranche, had been reclaimed by its owner, and I was thus reduced to the ne- cessity of footing it. In this order, we left the town just before sunset, and took a mule -path leading up the steep ascent. 92 LEv RADO hard work gave him enough to start on, and two months, with the usual luck, quite reinstated him. The largest piece found in the rich gulch weighed elerei pounds. Mr. James, who had been on the river since April, showed me a lump weighing sixty-two ounces pure, unadul- terated gold. We had a visit one day from Don Andres Pico commander of the California forces during the war. He had a company of men digging at the Middle Bar, about a mile above. He is an urbane, intelligent man, of medium stature, and of a natural gentility of character which made him quite popular among the emigrants. From all I saw and heard, while at the Mokelumne Diggings, I judged there was as much order and security as could be attained without a civil organization. The inhabitants had elected one of their own number Alcalde, before whom all culprits were tried by a jury selected for the purpose. Several thefts had occurred, and the offending parties been severely punished after a fair trial Some had been whippo-d and cropped, or maimed in some other way, and one or two ot them hung. Two or three who had stolen largely had beeo ^hot down by the injured party, the gen- eral feeling among the mint** jusiilying such a course when no other seemed available. We xnet near Livermore's Kanche, on the way to Stockton, a man vh t was six miles from here, where I camped, and the horse never lift me before ; you know you did n't, you rascal !" Then, coming into the tent, he repeated the whole story to us, who marvelled exceedingly that the horse should have left. " He does n't loot to be much," added the man, " but I've had him two years among the mountains, and never saw sich anotner wonderful kni*wiV animal." Sergeant Falls, who owned a ranche in the neighborhood, cann along shortly after with a caballada which he was driving intc Stockton. The day was hot, but a fine breeze blew over the hazj plain and rustled the groves of oak as we went past them on a "sweeping gallop, which was scarcely broken during the whole ride of twenty-five miles. No exercise in the world is so exciting and inspiring as the traveling gait or " lope" of the Californian horse I can compare it to nothing but the rocking motion of a boat over a light sea. There is no jar or jolt in the saddle ; the rider sits lightly and securely, while the horse, obeying the slightest touch of the rein, carries him forward for hours without slackening his bounding speed. Up and down the steep sides of an arroyo over the should?- of a mountain, or through the flinty bed of some dry lake or river it is all the same. One's blood leaps merrily along his \eins, and the whole frame feels an elastic warmth which ex- quisitely fits it to receive all sensuous impressions. Ah ! if horse- flesh were effortless as the wind, indestructible as adamant, what motion of sea or air what unwearied agility of fin or steady sweep of wing could compare with it ? In the power of thus speeding THE CALIFORNIAN HOR6E. 97 onward at will, as far as the wish might extend, one would forgei his desire to soar. I saw at the Pueblo San Jose a splendid pied horse belonging to Col. Fremont the gift of Don Pio Pico on which ve had frequently ridden to San Francisco, a distance of fifty-five miles, within seven hours. When pushed to their utmost capacity, these horses frequently perform astonishing feats. The saddles in com- mon use differ little from the Mexican ; the stirrups are set back, obliging the rider to stand rather than sit, and the seat corresponds more nearly to the shape of the body than the English saddle. The horses are broken by a halter of strong rope, which accustoms them to be governed by a mere touch of the rein. On first at- tempting to check the gallop of one which I rode, I though tlessly drew the rein as strongly as for a hard-mouthed American horse. The consequence was, he came with one bound to a dead stop and I flew bolt upwards out of the saddle ; but for its high wooden born, I should have gone over his head. At Raney's Ranche, our notice was attracted to the sad spec- tacle of a man, lying on the river bank, wasted by disease, and evidently near his end. He was a member of a company from Massachusetts, which had passed that way three weeks before, not only refusing to take him further, but absolutely carrying with them his share of the stores they had brought from home. This, at least, was the story told me on the spot, but I hope it was un tine. The man had lain there from day to day, without medical aid, and dependant on such attention as the inmates of the tent were able to afford him. The Dr. left some medicines with him but it was evident to all of us that a few days more would termi- nate his sufferings. All the roads from Stockton to the mines were filled with atajoi VOL. i. 5 98 ELDORADO. of mules, laden with freight. They were mostly owned by Amen cans, many of them by former trappers and mountaineers, but the packers and drivers were Mexicans, and the apare'jos and euj'orja- of the mules were of the same fashion as those which, for three hundred years past, have been seen on the hills of Grenada aame time, there were established regulations, which were faith- fully observed. Alcaldes were elected, who decided on all dis- putes of right or complaints of trespass, and who had power to summon juries for criminal trials. When a new placer or gulch was discovered, the first thing done was to elect officers and ex- tend the area of order. The result was, that in a district five hundred miles long, and inhabited by 100,000 people, who had neither government, regular laws, rules, military or civil protec- tion, nor even locks or bolts, and a great part of whom possessed wealth enough to tempt the vicious and depraved, there was as much security to life and property as in any part of the Union, and as small a proportion of crime. The capacity of a people for self-government was never so triumphantly illustrated. Never, perhaps, was there a community formed of more unpropitious ele- ments ; yet from all this seeming chaos grew a harmony beyond what the most sanguine apostle of Progress could have expected. The rights of the diggers were no less definitely marked and strictly observed. Among the hundreds I saw on the Moke- lumne and among the gulches, I did not see a single dispute nor bear a word of complaint. A company of men might mark cut * race of any length and turn the current of the river to get at the bed, possessing the exclusive right to that part of it, so long aa then- undertaking lasted. A man might dig a hole in the dry ravines, and so long as he left a shovel, pick or crowbar to show that he still intended working it, he was safe from trespass His 102 ELDORADO. took might remain there for months without being listarbed 1 have seen many such places, miles away from any camp or tent, which the digger had left in perfect confidence that he should find all right on his return. There were of course exceptions to these rules the diggings would be a Utopia if it were not so but thej were not frequent. The Alcaldes sometimes made awkward de- cisions, from inexperience, but they were none the less implicit!) obeyed. I heard of one instance in which a case of trespass was settled to the satisfaction of both parties and the Sheriff ordered to pay the costs of Court about $40. The astonished funo- Jionary remonstrated, but the power of the Alcalde was supreme, *nd he was obliged to suffer. The treatment of the Sonorians by the American diggers was me of the exciting subjects of the summer. These people came nto the country in armed bands, to the number of ten thousand in all, and took possession of the best points on the Tuolumnc, Stanislaus and Mokelumne Elvers. At the Sonorian camp on the Stanislaus there were, during the summer, several thousands of them, and the amount of ground they dug up and turned over is almost incredible. For a long time they were suffered to work peaceably, but the opposition finally became so strong that they were ordered to leave. They made no resistance, but quietly backed out and took refuge in other diggings. In one or two places, I was told, the Americans, finding there was no chance of having a fight, coolly invited them back again ! At the tun of my visit, however, they were leaving the country in large num- bers, and there were probably not more than five thousand in al scattered along the various rivers. Several parties of them, in revenge for the treatment they experienced, committed outrages on their way home, stripping small parties of the emigrants bj MORAL EFFECT OF GOLD. 103 the Gila route of all they possessed. It is not likely that the country will be troubled with them in future. Abundance of gold does not always beget, as moralists tell us, a grasping and avaricious spirit. The principles of hospitality were is faithfully observed in the rude tents of the diggers as they oould be by the thrifty farmers of the North and "West. The cos- mopolitan cast of society in California, resulting from the com- mingling of so many races and the primitive mode of life, gave a character of good-fellowship to all its members ; and in no part of the world have I ever seen help more freely given to the needy, or more ready cooperation in any humane proposition. Per- sonally, I can safely say that I never met with such unvarying kindness from comparative strangers. CHAPTER XL A NIGHT ADVENTURE IN THE MOUNTAIN. ON reaching Stockton, Lieut. Beale and Col. Lyons decided to return to San Francisco in a launch, which was to leave the samf evening. This was thought best, as mule-travel, in the conditic?i of the former, would have greatly aggravated his illness. The mules were left hi my charge, and as the management of five was n impossibility for one man, it was arranged that I should wait three days, when Mr. R. A. Parker and Mr. Atherton, of San Francisco, were to leave. These gentlemen offered to make a single mulada of all our animals, which would relieve me from my embarrassment. I slept that night in Mr. Lane's store, and the next morning rode out to Graham's Camp, where the Major re- ceived me with the same genial hospitality. For three days longer I shared the wildwood fare of his camp-table and slept under the canopy of his oaks. Long may those matchless trees be spared to the soil a shore of cool and refreshing verdure to all wrho traverse the hot plains of San Joaquin ! Messrs. Parker and Atherton, with three other gentlemen and two servants, made their appearance about sunset. My mules had already been caught and lariated, and joining our loose ani- mals, we had a mulada of ei^ht, with eight riders to keep them ir AN UNCEREMONIOUS SUPPER. 105 order. The plain was dark when we started, and the trail stretched like a dusky streak far in advance. The mules gave us infinite trouble at first, darting off on all sides ; but, by dint of hard chasing, we got them into regular file, keeping them in a furious trot before us. The volumes of dust that rose from their feet, completely enveloped us ; it was only by counting the taiJs that occasionally whisked through the cloud, that we could tell whether they were in order. One of my spurs gave way in the race, but there was no stopping to pick it up, nor did we halt until, at the end of twelve miles, the white tent of the ferry came in sight. We crossed and rode onward to my old camping-place on the slough. A canvas tavern had been erected on a little knoll, since my visit, and after picketing our animals in the meadow, we pro- ceeded to rouse' the landlord. The only person we could find was an old man, lying under a tree near at hand ; he refused to stir, saying there was nothing to eat in the tent, and he would not get up and cook at that time of night. My fellow-travelers, ac- customed to the free-and-easy habits of California, entered the tent without ceremony and began a general search for comestibles. The only things that turned up were a half-dozen bottles of ale in a dusty box and a globular jar of East-India preserves, on which odd materials we supped with a hearty relish. The appe- tite engendered by open-air life in California would have made palatable a much more incongruous meal. We then lay down on the sloping sides of the knoll, rolled in a treble thickness of blankets, for the nights were beginning to grow cool. I was awakened once or twice by a mysterious twitching of my bed- clothes and a scratching noise, the cause of which was explained hen I arose in the morning. I had been sleeping over half a S* 106 ELDORADO. dozen squirrel-holes, to the great discomfort of the imprisoned tenants. The old denizen of the place, in better humor after we had paid for our unceremonious supper, set about baking tortillas and stewing beef, to which we added two cans of preserved turtle goup, which we found in the tent. Our mules had scattered far and wide during the night, and several hours elapsed before they could be herded and got into traveling order. The face of the bvoad plain we had to cross glimmered in the heat, and the Coast Range beyond it was like the phantom of a mountain-chain. We journeyod on, hour after hour, in the sweltering blaze, crossed the divide and reached Livermore's Ranche late in the afternoon My saddle-mule was a fine gray animal belonging to Andrew Sublette, which Lieut. Beale had taken on our way to Stockton, leaving his own alazan at the ranche. Mr. Livermore was ab- Bent, but one of his vaqueros was prevailed upon, by a bribe of five dollars, to take the mule out to the corral, six miles distant, and bring me the horse in its stead. I sat down in the door of the ranche to await his arrival, leaving the company to go forward with all our animals to a camping-ground, twelve miles further. It was quite dark when the vaquero rode up with the alazan^ and I lost no time in saddling him and leaving the ranche. The trail, no longer confined among the hills, struck out on a circular plain, ton miles in diameter, which I was obliged to cross. The moon was not risen ; the soil showed but one dusky, unvaried hue ; and my only chance of keeping the trail was in the sound of my horse's feet. A streak of gravelly sand soon put me at fault, and after doubling backwards and forwards a few times, I found myself adrift without compass or helm. In the uncertain gloom, my horse blundered into stony hollows, or, lost in the mazes THE TRAIL LOST. 107 of the oaks, startled the buzzards and mountain vuitures from their roost. The boughs rustled, and the air was stirred by the muffled beat of their wings : I could see them, like unearthly, boding shapes, as they swooped between me and the stars. A1 last, making a hazard at the direction in which the trail ran, I set my course by the stars and pushed steadily forward hi a straight line. Two hours of this dreary travel passed away : the moon rose, lighting up the loneliness of the wide plain and the dim, silvery sweep of mountains around it. I found myself on the verge of a steep bank, which I took to be an arroyo we had crossed on the outward journey. Getting down with some difficulty, I rode foi more than a mile over the flinty bed of a lake, long since dried up by the summer heats. At its opposite side I plunged into a ghostly wood, echoing with the dismal ho'wl of the wolves, and finally reached the foot of the mountains. The deep-sunken glen, at whose entrance I stood, had no familiar feature ; the tall clumps of chapparal in its bottom, seemed fit haunts for grizzly bear ; and- after following it for a short distance, I turned about and urged my horse directly up the steep sides of the mountain. It was now midnight, as near as I could judge by the moon, and I determined to go no further. I had neither fire-arms, matches nor blankets all my equipments having gone on with the pack- aaule and it was necessary to choose a place where I could be secure from the bears, the only animal to be feared. The very rommit of the mountain seemed to be the safest spot ; there was a single tree upon it, but the sides, for some distance below, were oaref and if a " grizzly" should come up one side, I could dash down the other. Clambering to the top, I tied my horse to the tree, took the saddle for a pillow, and coiling into the sruallesl 108 ELDORADO. possible compass, tried to cover myself with a square yard of sad die-blanket. It was too cold to sleep, and I lay there for hours, with aching bones and chattering teeth, looking down on the vast mysterious depths of the landscape below me. I shall never for- get the shadowy level of the plain, whose belts and spots of timbes were like clouds in the wan light the black mountain-gulfs an either hand, which the incessant yell of a thousand wolves mad seem like caverns of the damned the far, fault shapes of the dis- tant ranges, which the moonshine covered, as with silver gossamer, and the spangled arch overhead, doubly lustrous in the thin air Once or twice I fell into a doze, to dream of slipping off precipices and into icy chasms, and. was roused by the snort of my horse, as he stood with raised ears, stretching the lariat to its full length. When the morning star, which was never so welcome, brought the daylight in its wake, I saddled and rode down to the plain. Taking a course due north, I started off on a gallop and in less than an hour recovered the trail. I had no difficulty in finding the beautiful meadow where the party was to have camped, but there was no trace of them to be seen ; the mules, as it happened, were picketed behind some timber, and the men, not yet arisen, were buried out of sight hi the rank grass. I rode up to some milpas, (brush-huts,) inhabited by Indians, and for two reals ob- tained a boiled ear of corn and a melon, which somewhat relieved my chill, hungry condition. Riding ahead slowly, that my horse might now and then crop a mouthful of oats, I was finally over taken by Mr. Atherton, who was in advance of the company. We again took our places behind the mules, and hurried on to the Mission of San Jose. Mr. Parker had been seized with fever and chills during flifi night, and decided to rest a day at the Pueblo San Jose Messrs SECOND VIEW OF SAN FRANCISCO. 109 A.therton and Patterson, with myself, after breakfasting and making a hasty visit to the rich pear-trees and grape-vines of tho garden, took a shorter road, leading around the head of the bay to Whisman's Ranche. We trotted the twenty-five miles in about four hours, rested an hour, and then set out again, hoping to reach San Francisco that night. It was too much, however, for otu mules , after passing the point of Santa Clara mountain they be- gan to scatter, and as it was quite dark, we halted in a grove near the Ruined Mission. We lay down on the ground, supperless and somewhat weary with a ride of about seventy miles. I slept & refreshing sleep under a fragrant bay-tree, and was up with the first streak of dawn to look after my mules. Once started, we spurred our animals into a rapid trot, which was not slackened till we had passed the twenty miles that intervened between us and the Mission Dolores. When I had climbed the last sand-hill, riding hi towards San Francisco, and the town and harbor and crowded shipping again opened to the view, I could scarcely realize the change that had taken place during my absence of three weeks. The town had not only greatly extended its limits, but seemed actually to have doubled its number of dwellings since I left. High up on the hills, where I had seen only sand and chapparal, stood clusters of houses ; streets which had been merely laid out, were hemmed in with buildings and thronged with people ; new warehouses had iprung up on the water side, and new piers were creeping out to- ward the shipping ; the forest of masts had greatly thickened ; and the noise, motion and bustle of business and labor on all sides were incessant. Verily, the place was in itself a marvel. To Bay that it was daily enlarged by from twenty to thirty houses may not sound very remarkable after all the stories that hav 110 ELDORADO. been told ; yet this, for a country which imported both lunibei and houses, and where labor was then $10 a day, is an extraordi- nary growth. The rapidity with which a ready-made house is put up and inhabited, strikes the stranger in San Francisco as little short of magic. He walks over an open lot in his befo re-breakfast stroll the next morning, a house complete, with a family 'nside, blocks up his way. He goes down to the bay and looks cut on the shipping two or three days afterward a row of storehouses, staring bun in the face, intercepts the view. I found Lieut. Beale and Col. Lyons, who gave me an amusing account of their voyage on the San Joaquin. The " skipper" of the launch in which they embarked knew nothing of navigation, and Lieut. Beale, in spite of his illness, was obliged to take com- mand. The other passengers were a company of Mexican miners After tacking for two days among the tule swamps, the launch ran aground ; the skipper, in pushing it off, left an oar in the sand and took the boat to recover it. Just then a fine breeze sprang up and the launch shot ahead, leaving the skipper to fol- low. That night, having reached a point within two miles of the site of an impossible town, called New-York-of-the-Pacific, the passengers left in a body. The next day they walked to the little village of Martinez, opposite Benicia, a distance of twenty-five miles, crossing the foot of Monte Diablo. Here they took anothei launch, and after tossing twelve hours on the bay, succeeded in reaching San Francisco. At the United States Hotel I again met with Colonel Fremont, nd learned the particulars of the magnificent discovery which had Just been made upon his ranche on the Mariposa River. It was nothing less than a vein of gold hi the solid rock the first which had been found in California. T saw some specimens which were COL. FREMONT'S MINE 111 in Col. Fremont's possession. The stone was a reddish quartz, filled with rich veins of gold, and far surpassing the specimens brought from North Carolina and Georgia. Some stones picked ap on the top of the quartz strata, without particular selection, yielded two ounces of gold to every twenty-five pounds. Col. Fremont informed me that the vein had been traced for more than a mile The thickness on the surface is two feet, gradually widen- ing as it descends and showing larger particles of gold. The dip downward is only about 20, so that the mine can be worked with little expense. The ranche upon which it is situated was pur- chased by Col. Fremont in 1846 from Alvarado, former Governor ot che Territory. It was then considered nearly worthless, and Col. F. only took it at the moment of leaving the country, be- cause disappointed in obtaining another property. This discovery made a great sensation thoughout the country, at the time, yet it was but the first of many such. The Sierra Nevada is pierced in every part with these priceless veins, which will produce gold foi centuries after every spot of earth from base to summit shall have been turned over and washed out. Many of my fellow-passengers by the Panama were realizing their dreams of speedy fortune ; some had already made $20,000 by speculating in town lots. A friend of mine who had shipped lumber from New York to the amount of $1000 sold it for $14,000. At least seventy-five houses had been imported from Canton, and put up by Chinese carpenters. Washing was $}8 a dozen, and as a consequence, large quantities of soiled linen were Bent to the antipodes to be purified. A vessel just in from Can- ton brought two hundred and fifty dozen, which had been sent out a few months before , anothor from the Sandwich Islands broughi one hundred dozen, and the practice was becoming general. CHAPTER XII. SAN FRANCISCO BY DAY AND NIGHT. A BETTER idea of San Francisco, in the beginning of September, 1849, cannot be given than by the description of a single day. Supposing the visitor to have been long enough m the place to sleep on a hard plank and in spite of the attacks of innumerable fleas, he will be awakened at daylight by the noises of building, with which the hills are all alive. The air is temperate, and the invariable morning fog is just beginning to gather. By sunrise, which gleams hazily over the Coast Mountains across the Bay, the whole populace is up and at work. The wooden buildings unlock their doors, the canvas houses and tents throw back their front curtains ; the lighters on the water arc warped out from ship to ship ; carts and porters are busy along the beach ; and only the gaming-tables, thronged all night by the otaries of chance, are idle and deserted. The temperature is so fresh as to inspire an active habit of body, and even without the stimulus of trade and speculation there would be few sluggards at this season. As early as half-past six the bells begin to sound to breakfast, and for an hour thenceforth, their incessant clang and the braying af immense gongs drown all the hammers that are busy on a THE STREETS AFTER BREAKFAST. 113 hundred roofs. The hotels, restaurants and refectories of all kindis ore already as numerous as gaming-tables, and equally various in kind. The tables d'hote of the first class, (which charge $2 and upwards the meal,) are abundantly supplied. There are others., with more simple and solid fare, frequented by the large class who have their fortunes yet to make. At the United States and California restaurants, on the plaza, you may get an excellent beefsteak, scantily garnished with potatoes, and a cup of good coffee or chocolate, for $1. Fresh beef, bread, potatoes, and all provisions which will bear importation, are plenty ; but milk, fruit and vegetables are classed as luxuries, and fresh butter is rarely heard of. On Montgomery street, and the vacant space fronting the water, venders of coffee, cakes and sweetmeats have erected their stands, in order to tempt the appetite of sailors just arrived in port, or miners coming down from the mountains. By nine o'clock the town is in the full flow of business. The streets running down to the water, and Montgomery street which fronts the Bay, are crowded with people, all in hurried motion. The variety of characters and costumes is remarkable. Our own countrymen seem to lose their local peculiarities in such a crowd, and it is by chance epithets rather than by manner, that the New- Yorker is distinguished from the Kentuckian, the Carolinian from the Down-Easter, the Virginian from the Texan. The German and Frenchman are more easily recognized. Peruvians and Chilians go by in their brown ponchos, and the sober Chinese, cool and impassive in the midst of excitement, look out of the oblique corners of their long eyes at the bustle, but are never tempted to venture from their own line of business. The eastern side of the plaza, in front of the Parker Houso and a canvas hell called the Eldorado, are the general rendezvous of business and amusement U4 ELDORADO. combining 'change, park, club-room and promenade all in one There, everybody not constantly employed in one spot, may be seen at some time of the day. The character of the group* scattered along the plaza is oftentimes very interesting. In one place re three or four speculators bargaining for lots, buying and sell ing " fifty varas square " in towns, some of which are canvas and some only paper ; in another, a company of miners, brown as leather, and rugged in features as in dress ; in a third, perhaps, three or four naval officers speculating on the next cruise, or a knot of genteel gamblers, talking over the last night's operations. The day advances. The mist which after sunrise hung low and heavy for an hour or two, has risen above the hills, and there will be two hours of pleasant sunshine before the wind sets in from tha sea. The crowd in the streets is now wholly alive. Men dart hither and thither, as if possessed with a never-resting spirit. You speak to an acquaintance a merchant, perhaps. He utters a few hurried words of greeting, while his eyes send keen glances on all sides of you ; suddenly he catches sight of somebody in the crowd ; he is off, and in the next five minutes has bought up half a cargo, sold a town lot at treble the sum he gave, and taken a share in some new and imposing speculation. It is impossible to witness this excess and dissipation of business, without feeling something of its influence. The very air is pregnant with the magnetism of bold, spirited, unwearied action, and he who but ventures into the outer circle of the whirlpool, is spinning, ere he has time for thought, in its dizzy vortex. But see ! the groups in the plaza suddenly scatter ; the city surveyor jerks his pole out of the ground and leaps on a pile of boards ; the venders of cakes and sweetmeat? follow his example, and the place is cleared, just as a wild bull which has been racing A BULL-CHASE. 115 down Kearney street makes his appearance. Two vaqueros, shouting and swinging their lariats, follow at a hot gallop; the dust flies as they dash across the plaza. One of them, in mid-career, hurls his lariat in the air. Mark how deftly the coil unwinds in its flying curve, and with what precision the noose falls over the bull's horns ! The horse wheels as if on a pivot, and shoots off in an opposite line. He knows the length of the lariat to a hair, and the instant it is drawn taught, plants his feet firmly for the shock and throws his body forward. The bull is " brought up " with such force as to throw him off his legs. He lies stunned a moment, and then, rising heavily, makes another charge. But by this time the second vaquero has thrown a lariat around one of his hind legs, and thus checked on both sides, he is dragged off to slaughter. The plaza is refilled as quickly as it was emptied, and the course of business is resumed. About twelve o'clock, a wind begins to blow from the north-west, sweeping with most violence through a gap between the hills, opening towards the Golden Gate. The bells and gongs begin to sound for dinner, and these two causes tend to lessen the crowd in the streets for an hour or two. Two o'clock is the usual dinner-time for business men, but some of the old and successful merchants have adopted the fashionable hour of five. Where shall we dine to-day ? the restaurants display their signs invitingly on all sides; we have choice of the United States, Tortoni's, the Alhambra, and many other equally classic resorts, but Delmonico's, like its distingukhed original hi New York, has the highest prices and the greatest variety of dishes. We go down Kearney street to a two-storj trooden house on the corner of Jackson The lower story is & aarket ; the walls are garnished with quarters of beef and 116 ELDORADO. mutton ; a huge pile of Sandwich Island squashes fills one corner, and several cabbage-heads, valued at $2 each, show themselves in the window. We enter a little door at the end of the building, ascend a dark, narrow flight of steps and find our- selves in a long, low room, with ceiling and walls of white muslin nd a floor covered with oil-cloth There are about twenty tables disposed in two rows, all of them so well filled that we have some difficulty in finding places. Tak- ing up the written bill of fare, we find such items as the following EICTBEE*. Fillet of Beef, mushroom sauce $1 7i Veal rutlets, breaded ... 1 00 Mutton Chop 1 00 Lobster Salad 9 00 Sirloin of Venison 1 50 Baked Maccaroni 75 Beef Tongue, sauce piquante 1 00 Mock Turtle $0 7ft 8t Julien 1 00 ritB. Boiled Salmon Trout. Anchory wuce OILED. Lb Mutton, caper sauce Corned Beef, Cabbage, . Ham and Tongues . . 1 76 100 1 00 076 So that, with but a moderate appetite, the dinner will cost us $5, if we are at all epicurean in our tastes. There are cries of " steward !" from all parts of the room the word " waiter" is not considered sufficiently respectful, seeing that the waiter may have been a lawyer or merchant's clerk a few months before. The dishes look very small as they are placed on the table, but they are skilfully cooked and very palatable to men that have ridden in from the diggings. The appetite one acquires in California is something remarkable. For two months after my arrival, EBJ sensations were like those of a famished wolf. In the matter of dining, the tastes of all nations can be gratified here. There, are French restaurants on the plaza and on Dupont street ; an extensive German establishment on Pacific street ; the Fonda Peruana ; the Italian Confectionary ; and three Chinese THK AFTERNOON lit houses, denoted by their long three-cornered flags of yellow silk. The latter are nmch frequented by Americans, on account of theii excellent cookery, and the fact that meals are $1 each, without regard to quantity. Kong-Sung's house is near the water ; Whang-Tong's in Sacramento Street, and Tong-Ling's in Jackson street. There the grave Celestials serve up their chow-chow and curry, besides many genuine English dishes ; their tea and coffee cannot be surpassed. The afternoon is less noisy and active than the forenoon. Merchants keep within-doors, and the gambling-rooms are crowded with persons who step in to escape the wind and dust. The sky takes a cold gray cast, and the hills over the bay are barely visible in the dense, dusty air. Now and then a watcher, who has been stationed on the hill above Fort Montgomery, comes down and reports an inward-bound vessel, which occasions a little excitement among the boatmen and the merchants who are awaiting consign- ments. Towards sunset, the plaza is nearly deserted ; the wind is merciless hi its force, and a heavy overcoat is not found un- pleasantly warm. As it grows dark, there is a lull, though occa- sional gusts blow down the hill and carry the dust of the city out among the shipping. The appearance of San Francisco at night, from the water, is unlike anything I ever beheld. The houses are mostly of canvas, which is made transparent by the lamps within, and transforms Ihem, in the darkness, to dwellings of solid light. Seated on the slopes of its three hills, the tents pitched among the chapparal to the very summits, it gleams like an amphitheatre of fire. Here and there shine out brilliant points, from the decoy-lamps of the gaming-houses ; and through the indistinct murmur of the streets tomes by fits the sound of music from their hot and crowded pro- ELDORADO. cincts The pictuio has in it something unreal and fantastic , it impresses one like the cities of the magic lantern, which a moticiB of the hand can build or annihilate. The only objects left for us to visit are the gaming-tables, whose day has just fairly dawned. We need not wander far in search ol ue Denison's Exchange, the Parker House and Eldorado stand ride by side ; across the way are the Verandah and Aguila de Oro ; higher up the plaza the St. Charles and Bella Union ; while dozens of second-rate establishments are scattered through the less frequented streets. The greatest crowd is about the Eldorado ; *re find it difficult to effect an entrance. There are about eight tables in the room, all of which are thronged ; copper-hued Ka- nakas, Mexicans rolled in their sarapes and Peruvians thrust through their ponchos, stand shoulder to shoulder with the brown and bearded American miners. The stakes are generally small, though when the bettor gets into " a streak of luck," as it is called, they are allowed to double until all is lost or the bank breaks. Along the end of the room is a spacious bar, supplied with all kinds of bad liquors, and in a sort of gallery, suspended under the ceiling, a female violinist tasks her talent and strength of muscle to minister to the excitement of play. The Verandah, opposite, is smaller, but boasts an equal attrac- tion in a musician who has a set of Pandean pipes fastened at his hin, a drum on his back, which he beats with sticks at his elbows, nd cymbals in his hands. The piles of coin on the monte tables link merrily to his playing, and the throng of spectators, jammed together in a sweltering mass, walk up to the bar between the tones and drink out of sympathy with his dry and breathless throat. At the Aguila de Oro there is a full band of Ethiopian serenade!*, and at the other hells, violins, guitars or wheezy accordeons, as THE INSIDE OF A GAMBLING-HELL. 119 the case may be. The atmosphere of these places is rank with tobacco-smoke, and filled with a feverish, stifling heat, whicL communicates an unhealthy glow to the faces of the players. We shall not be deterred from entering by the heat and smoke or the motley characters into whose company we shall be thrown There are rare chances here for seeing human nature in one of its most dark and exciting phases. Note the variety of expression in the faces gathered around this table ! They are playing monte, the favorite game in California, since the chances are considered more equal and the opportunity of false play very slight. The dealer throws out his cards with a cool, nonchalant air ; indeed, the gradual increase of the hollow square of dollars at his left hand is not calculated to disturb his equanimity. The two Mexicans in front, muffled in their dirty sarapes, put down their half-dollars and dollars and see them lost, without changing a muscle. Gam- bling is a born habit with tkem, and they would lose thousands with the same indifference. Very different is the demeanor of the Americans who are playing ; their good or ill luck is betrayed at once by involuntary exclamations and changes of countenance, unless the stake should be very large and absorbing, when their anxiety, though silent, may be read with no less certainty. They have no power to resist the fascination of the game. Now count- ing Sheir winnings by thousands, now dependent on the kindness of a friend for a few dollars to commence anew, they pass hour after hour in those hot, unwholesome dens. There is no appear- ance of arms, but let one of the players, impatient with his losses and maddened by the poisonous fluids he has drank, threaten one rf the profession, and there will be no scarcity of knives and re- folvers. There are other places, where gaming is carried on privately 120 ELDORADO. and to a nore ruinous extent rooms in the rear of the Parket House, in the City Hotel and other places, frequented only by the initiated. Here the stakes are almost unlimited, the players being mnn of wealth and apparent respectability. Frequently, in the absorbing interest of some desperate game the night goes by un heeded and morning breaks upon haggard faces and reckless hearts Here are lost, in a few turns of a card or rolls of a ball, the product of fortunate ventures by sea or months of racking labor on land. How many men, maddened by continual losses, might exclaim ir their blind vehemence of passion, on leaving these hells : "Oat, out, thou strumpet, Fortune ! All you god* In general synod, take way her power } Break all the spokes ami fellies from her -wheel, And bowl the round nae down the hill of heavn, As low as to the fiends 1" CHAPTER XIIL INCIDENTS OF A WALK TO MONTEREY. I STAYED but four or five days in San Francisco on my returc The Convention, elected to form a constitution for California, waa then in session at Monterey, and, partly as an experiment, partly for economy's sake, I determined to make the journey of one hundred and thirty miles on foot. Pedestrianism in California, however, as I learned by this little experience, is something more of a task than in most countries, one being obliged to carry his hotel with him. The least possible bedding is a Mexican sarape, which makes a burdensome addition to a knapsack, and a loaf of bread and flask of water are inconvenient, when the mercury stands at 90. Besides, the necessity of pushing forward many miles to reach " grass and water" at night, is not very pleasant to the foot-sore and weary traveler. A mule, with all his satanic propensities, is sometimes a very convenient animal. ] )ressed in a complete suit of corduroy, with a shirt of purple flannel and boots calculated to wear an indefinite length of time, 1 left San Francisco one afternoon, waded through the three miles of deep sand to the Mission, crossed the hills and reached Sanchez' Ranche a little after dark. I found- the old man, who IE said to lislike the Americans most cordially, very friendly, fje 132 ELDORADO. set before me a supper of beef stewed in red-peppers and ther gave me a bed an actual bed and, wonder of wonders ! without fleas. Not far from Sanchez there is a large adobe house, the ruins of a former Mission, in the neighborhood of which I noticed * grove of bay-trees. They were of a different species from the Italian bay, and the leaves gave out a most pungent odor. Some of the trees were of extraordinary size, the trunk being three feet in diameter. They grew along the banks of a dry anoyo, and had every appearance of being indigenous. I found the jor nada of twenty-five miles to Secondini's Ranche, extremely fa tiguing in the hot sun. I entered the ranche panting, threw my knapsack on the floor and inquired of a handsome young Cali- fornian, dressed in blue calzoneros : " Can you give me anything *x) eat ?" " Nada nad-i-t-a /" he answered, sharpening out the sound with an expression which meant, as plain as words could say it : " nothing ; not even the little end of nothing !" I was too hungry to be satisfied with this reply, and commenced an inventory of all the articles on hand. I found plenty of French brandy, mescal and various manufactured wines, which I rejected ; but my search was at last rewarded by a piece of bread, half a Dutch cheese and a bottle of ale, nearly all of which soon disap- peared. Towards night, some of the vaqueros brought in a cow with a lariat around her horns, threw her on the ground and plunged a knife into her breast. A roaring fire was already kindled behind the house, and the breath had not been many seconds out of the cow's body, before pieces of meat, slashed from her flank, were broiling on the coals. When about half cooked, they were natched out, dripping with the rich, raw juices of the animal, and eaten as a great delicacy. One of the vaqueros handed me large slice, which I found rather tough, but so remarkably sweet 123 and nutritious that I ate it, feeling myself at the time little bet- ter than a wolf. I left Secondini's at daybreak and traveled twelve miles to the Mission of Santa Clara, where, not being able to obtain breakfast, I walked into the garden and made a meal of pears and the juicy fruit of the cactus. Thence to Pueblo San Jose, where I left th road I had already traveled, and took the broad highway running southward, up the valley of San Jose. The mountains were barely visible on either side, through the haze, and the road, per- fectly level, now passed over wide reaches of grazing land, now crossed park-like tracts, studded with oaks and sycamores a charming interchange of scenery. I crossed the dry bed of Coy- ote Creek several times, and reached Capt. Fisher's Ranche as it was growing dusk, and a passing traveler warned me to look out for bears. Capt. Fisher, who is married to a Californian lady and has lived many years in the country, has one of the finest ranches in the valley, containing four square leagues of land, or about eighteen thousand acres. There are upon it eighteen streams or springs, two small orchards, and a vineyard and garden. He purchased it at auction about three years since for $3,000, which was then considered a high price, but since the discovery of gold he has been offered $80,000 for it. I was glad to find, from the account he gave me of his own experience as a farmer, that my first im- pressions of the character of California as an agricultural country) irere fully justified. The barren, burnt appearance of the plains during the summer season misled many persons as to the value rf the country in this respect. From all quarters were heard complaints of the torrid heat and arid soil under which large rivers dry up and vegetation almost, entirely disappears The 1 24 ELDORADO. possibility of raising good crops of any kkd was vehemently de- nied, and the bold assertion made that the greater part of Cali- fornia is worthless, except for grazing purposes. Capt. Fishei informed me, however, that there is no such wheat country in the world. Even with the imperfect plowing of the natives, whicb does little more than scratch up the surface of the ground, it pro- duces a hundred-fold. Not only this, but, without further culti- vation, a large crop springs up on the soil the second and some- times even the third year. Capt. Fisher knew of a ranchero who Bowed twenty fanegas of wheat, from which he harvested one thousand and twenty fanegas. The second year he gathered from the same ground eight hundred fanegas, and the third year six hundred. The unvarying dryness of the climate after the rains have ceased preserves grain of all kinds from rot, and perhaps from the ame circumstance, the Hessian fly is unknown. The mountain- sides, to a considerable extent, are capable of yielding fine crops of wheat, barley and rye, and the very summits and ravines on which the wild oats grow so abundantly will of course give a richer return when they have been traversed by the plow. Corn grows upon the plains, but thrives best in the neighboi hood of streams. It requires no irrigation, and is not planted until after the last rain has fallen. The object of this, however, is to avoid the growth of weeds, which, were it planted earlier, would soon choke it, in the absence of a proper system of farm- ing. The use of the common cultivator would remove this diffi- culty, and by planting in March instead of May, an abundant crop would be certain. I saw several hundred acres which Capt Fisher had on his ranche. The ears were large and well filled, and the stalks, though no rain had fallen for four months, were aa green and fresh as in our fields at home Ground which hasbeeu AGRICULTURE IN CALIFORNIA. 125 plowed and planted, though it shows a dry crust or the top, re- tains its moisture to within six inches of the surface ; while close besile it, and on the same level, the uncultured earth is seamed with heat, and vegetation burned up. The valley of San Jose i* sixty miles in length, and contains at least five hundred square niles of level plain, nearly the whole of which is capable of culti- vation. In regard to climate and situation, it is one of the most favored parts of California, though the valleys of Sonoma, Napa, Bodega, and nearly the whole of the Sacramento country, are said to be equally fertile. Vegetables thrive luxuriantly, and many species, such aa melons, pumpkins, squashes, beans, potatoes, etc., require no further care than the planting. Cabbages, onions, and all others which are transplanted in the spring, are obliged to be irrigated. <3rape vines in some situations require to be occasionally watered ; when planted on moist slopes, they produce without it. A Frenchman named Vigne made one hundred barrels of wine In one year, from a vineyard of about six acres, which he cultivates at the Mission San Jose. Capt. Fisher had a thousand vines in his garden, which were leaning on the earth from the weight of their fruit. Many of the clusters weighed four and five pounds, and in bloom, richness and flavor rivaled the choicest growth of Tuscany or the Rhine. The vine will hereafter be an important product of California, and even Burgundy and Tokay may be superseded on the tables of the luxurious by the vintage of San Jose and Los Angeles. Before reaching Fisher's Ranche, I noticed on my left a bold spur striking out from the mountain-range. It terminated in s oluff, and both the rock and soil were of the dark-red color oi Egyptian porphyry, denoting the presence of cinnabar, the oro of 126 ELDORADO quicksilver The veins of this metal contained in the mountain are thought to be equal to those of the mines of Santa Clara which are on the opposite side of the valley, about eight miles from Pueblo San Jose. The following morning I resumed my walk up the valley. The soft, cloudless sky the balmy atmosphere the mountain ranger on either hand, stretching far before me until they vanished in purple haze the sea-like sweep of the plain, with its islands and shores of dark-green oak, and the picturesque variety of animal life on all sides, combined to form a landscape which I may have seen equalled but never surpassed. Often, far in advance beyond the belts of timber, a long blue headland would curve out from the mountains and seem to close up the beautiful plain ; but after the road had crossed its point, another and grander plain expanded for leagues before the eye. Nestled in a warm nook on the sunnj side of one of these mountain capes, I found the ranche of Mr. Murphy, commanding a splendid prospect. Beyond the house and across a little valley, rose the conical peak of El Toro, an isolated mountain which served as a landmark from San Jose nearly to Monterey. I was met at the door by Mr. Ruckel of San Francisco, who, with Mr. Everett of New York, had been rusticating a few days in the neighborhood. They introduced me to Mr. Murphy and his daughter, Ellen, both residents of the country for the last six years. Mr. Murphy, who is a native of Ireland, emigrated from Missouri, with his family, in 1843. He owns nine leagues of land (forty thousand acres) in the valley, and his cottage is a well-known and welcome resting-place to all the Americans in the country. During the war he remained on the ranche in company with hia daughter, notwithstanding Castro's troops wero scouring the A MOUNTAIN PANORAMA. 127 country, and all other families had moved to the Pueblo for pro- tection. His three sons were at the same time volunteers under Fremont's command. After dinner Mr. Murphy kindly offered to accompany me to the top of El Toro. Two horses were driven in from the cabal- lada and saddled, and on these we started, at the usual sweeping peed. Reaching the foot of the mountain, the lithe and spirited animals climbed its abrupt side like goats, following the windings of cattle-paths up the rocky ridges and through patches of stunted oak and chapparal, till finally, bathed in sweat and panting with the toil, they stood on the summit. We looked on a vast and wonderful landscape. The mountain rose like an island in the sea of air, so far removed from all it overlooked, that everything was wrapped in a subtle violet haze, through which the features of the scene seemed grander and more distant than the reality. West of us, range behind range, ran the Coast Mountains, parted by deep, wild valleys, in which we could trace the course of streams, shaded by the pine and the giant redwood. On the other side, the valley of San Jose, ten miles in width, lay directly at our feet, extending to the North and South, beyond point and headland, till either extremity was lost in the distance. The unvarying yellow hue of mountain and plain, except where they were traversed by broad belts of dark green timber, gave a remarkable effect to the view. It was not the color of barrenness and desolation and had no character of sadness or even monotony. Rather, glim- mering through the mist, the mountains seemed to have arrayed themselves in cloth of gold, as if giving testimony of the royal metal with which then* veins abound. After enjoying this scene for some time, we commenced the descent. The peak slanted do\raward at an angle of 45, which 128 rendered it toilsome work for our horses. I was about half-way down the summit-cone, when my saddle, slipping over the horde's shoulders, suddenly dropped to his ears. I was shot forward and alighted on my feet two or three yards below, fortunately retaining the end of the lariat in my hand. For a few minutes we performed a very spirited pas de deux on the side of the mountain, but Mr Murphy coming to my assistance, the horse was finally quieted and re-saddled. The afternoon was by this time far advanced, and I accepted Mr. Murphy's invitation to remain for the night. His pleasant family circle was increased in the evening by the arrival of Rev. Mr. Dowiat, a Catholic Missionary from Oregon, who gave us an account of the Indian massacre the previous winter. He was on the spot the day of its occurrence and assisted in in- terring the bodies of Dr. Whitman and his fellow- victims I traveled slowly the next day, for the hot sand and unaccus tomed exercise were beginning to make some impression on m r feet. Early in the afternoon I reached some milpas standing in the middle of a cornfield. A handsome young ranchero came dashing up on a full gallop, stopping his horse with a single bound as he neared me. I asked him the name of the ranche, and whether he could give me a dinner. " It is Castro's Ranche," he replied ; " and I am a Castro. If you want water-melons, or dinner either, don't go to the other milpas, for they have nothing : venga !** and off he started, dashing through the corn and over the melon patches, as if they were worthless sand. I entered the milpa, which resembled an enormous wicker crate. In default of chairs I sat upon the ground, and very soon a dish of tortillas, one ol boiled corn and another of jerked beef, were set before me. There was no need of knives and forks ; I watched the heir of the CastroSj placed a tortilla on one knee and plied my fingers with an assiduitt BELATED ON THE ROAD. J2Q equal to his own, so that between us there was little left of th repast. He then picked out two melons from a large pile, rolled then: to me, and started away again, doubtless to chase down more easterners. The road crossed the dry bed of a river, passed some meadows of fresh green grass and entered the hills on the western side of the valley. After passing the divide, I met an old Indian, traveling ou foot, of whom I asked the distance to San Juan His reply in broken Spanish was given with a comical brevity : " San Juan- two leagues you sleep I sleep rancho you walk I walk , anda, vamos /" and pointing to the sun to signify that it was growing late, he trudged off with double speed. By sunset I emerged from the mountains, waded the Rio Pajaro, and entered on the valley of San Juan, which stretched for leagues before me, as broad and beautiful as that I had left. The road, leading di- rectly across it, seemed endless ; I strained my eyes in vain look- ing for the Mission. At last a dark spot appeared some distance ahead of me. " Pray heaven," thought I, " that you be either a house, and stand still, or a man, and come forward." It was an Indian vaquero, who pointed out a dark line, which I could barelj discern through the dusk. Soon afterwards the sound of a bell, chiming vespers, broke on the silence, but I was still more weary before I reached the walls where it swung. At the inn adjoining the Mission I found Rev. Mr. Hunt, Col Stewart, Capt. Simmons and Mr. Harrison, of San Francisco We had beds, but did not sleep much ; few travelers, in fact, bleep at any of the Missions, on account of the dense population. In the morning 1 made a sketch of the ruined building, filled my pockets with pears in the orchard, and started up a Canada to crosi the mountains to the plain of Salinas River. It was a mule-path, 6* 130 ELDORADO. impracticable for wagons, and leading directly up the face of tht dividing ridge. Clumps of the madrono a native evergeen, with large, glossy leaves, and trunk and branches of bright purple filled the ravines, and dense thickets of a shrub with a snow-white berry lined the way. From the summit there was a fine mono- tain-view, sloping off on either hand into the plains of San Juan and Salinas. Along this road, since leaving San Jose, I met constantly with companies of emigrants from the Grila, on their way to the dig- gings. Many were on foot, having had their animals taken from them by the Yuma Indians at the crossing of the Colorado. They were wild, sun-burned, dilapidated men, but with strong and hardy frames, that were little affected by the toils of the journey. Some were mounted on mules which had carried them from Texas and Arkansas ; and two of the Knickerbocker Company, having joined their teams to a wagon, had begun business by filling it with vege- tables at the Mission, to sell again in the gold district. In a little glen I found a party of them camped for a day or two to wash their clothes in a pool which had drained from the meadows above. The companies made great inroads on my progress by questioning me about the gold region. None of them seemed to have any very definite plan in their heads. It was curious to note their eagerness to hear " golden reports" of the country, every one of them be- traying, by his questioning, the amount of the fortune he secretly expected to make. " Where would you advise me to go ?" WM the first question. I evaded the responsibility of a direct answer, and gave them the general report of the yield on all the rivers u How much can I dig in a day ?" This question was so absurd, as I could know nothing of the physical strength, endurance OT (geological knowledge of the emigrant, that I invariably refused tc THE GILA EMIGRANTS. ]3l make a random answer, telling them it depended entirely on them selves. But there was no escaping in this manner. " Well, hon much do you think I can dig in a day ?" was sure to follow, and 1 was obb'ged to satisfy them by replying : " Perhaps a dollar's worth, perhaps five pounds, perhaps nothing !" They spoke of meeting great numbers of Sonorians on their waj aome some of whom had attempted to steal their mules and provisions. Others, again, who had reached the country quite destitute, were kindly treated by them. The Yuma and Maricopai Indians were the greatest pests on the route. They had met witl no difficulty in passing through the Apache country, and, with the exception of some little thieving, the Pimos tribes had proved friendly. The two former tribes, however, had united their forces, which amounted to two thousand warriors, and taken a hostile po- sition among the hills near the Colorado crossing. There had been several skirmishes between them and small bodies of emi- grants, in which men were killed on both sides. A New York Company lost five of its members in this manner. Nearly all the persons I met had been seven months on the way. They reported that there were about ten thousand persons on the Gila, not more than half of whom had yet arrived in California. Very few oi the original companies held together, most of them being too largo for convenience. Descending a long Canada in the mountains, I came out at the great Salinas Plain. At an Indian ranche on the last slope, several cart-loads of melons were heaped beside the door, and I ate two or three in company with a traveler who rode up, and who proved to be a spy employed by Gen. Scott in the Mexican campaign. He was a small man, with a peculiar, keen gray eye, and a physiognomy thoroughly adapted for concealing all that was } 32 ELDORADO. passing in his mind. His hair was long and brown, and his beard unshorn ; he was, in fact, a genuine though somewhat diminutive type of Harvey Birch, differing from him likewise in a courteous freedom of manner which he had learned by long fa- miliarity with Spanish habits. While we sat, slicing the melons and draining their sugary juice, he told me a story of his capture by the Mexicans, after the battles in the Valley. He was carried to Queretaro, tried and sentenced to be shot, but succeeded in bribing the sergeant of the guard, through whose means he suc- ceeded in escaping the night before the day of execution. The sergeant's wife, who brought his meals to the prison in a basket, left with him the basket, a rebosa and petticoat, in which he arrayed himself, after having shaved off his long beard, and passed out un- noticed by the guard. A good horse was in waiting, and he never slacked rein until he reached San Juan del Rio, eleven leagues from Queretaro. To strike out on the plain was like setting sail on an unknown sea. My companion soon sank below the horizon, while I, whose timbers were somewhat strained, labored after him. I had some misgivings about the road, but followed it some four or five miles, when, on trying the course with a compass, I determined to leave it and take the open plain. I made for a faint speck far to the right, which, after an hour's hard walking showed itself to be a deserted ranche, beside an ojo de agua, or marshy spring. For- tunately, I struck on another road, and perseveringly followed it till dusk, when I reached the ranche of Thomas Blanco, on the bank of the Salinas River. Harvey Birch was standing in the door, having arrived an hour before me. Tortillas and frijolefl were smoking on the table a welcome sight to a hungry man ! Mr Blanco, who treated us with g nuine kindness, then gave as WOWTERE1 AT LAST 133 beds, and I went to sleep with the boom of the snrf on the shore of the distant bay ringing in my ears. Mr. Blanco, who is married to a Californian woman, has been living here several years. His accounts of the soil and climate fully agreed with what I had heard from other residents. There K a fine garden on the ranche, but during his absence at th( placers in the summer, all the vegetables were carried away by a band of Sonorians, who loaded his pack-mules with them and drove them off. They would even have forcibly taken his wife and her sister with them, had not some of her relatives fortu- nately arrived in time to prevent it. I was so iame and sore the next morning, that I was fain to be helped over the remaining fifteen miles to Monterey, by the kind offer of Mr. Shew of Baltimore, who gave me a seat in his wagon The road passed over sand-hills, covered only with chapparal, and good for nothing except as a shooting-ground for partridges and hares. The view of the town as you approach, opening through a gap between two low, piny hills, is very fine. Though so far in- ferior to San Francisco in size, the houses were all substantially built, and did not look as if they would fly off in a gale of wind. They were scattered somewhat loosely over a gentle slope, behind which ran a waving outline of pine-covered mountains. On the right hand appeared the blue waters of the bay, with six or seven vessels anchored near the shore. The American flag floated gailj in the sunshine above the fort on the bluff and the Government affices in the town, and prominent among the buildings on th high ground stood the Town Hall a truly neat and spacious edi- fice of yellow stone, in which the Constitutional Convention wai then sitting. In spite of the additional life which this body gave to the place, 134 ELDORADO. my first impression was that of a deserted town. Few people were stirring in the streets ; business seemed dull and stagnant ; and after hunting half an hour for a hotel, I learned that there was none. In this dilemma I luckily met my former fellow- traveler, Major Smith, who asked me to spread my blanket in hu room, in the cuartel, or Government barracks. I willingly com- plied, glad to find a place of rest after a foot-journey which I de- clared should be my last in California. CHAPTER XIV. LIVE IN MONTEREY. MAJOR SMITH, who was Paymaster for the stations of Monterey and San Diego, had arrived only a few days previous, from tht> latter place. He was installed in a spacious room in the upper story of the cuartel, which by an impromptu partition of muslin, was divided into an office and bedroom. Two or three empty freight-boxes, furnished as a great favor by the Quarter Master, served as desk, table and wash-stand. There were just three chairs for the Major, his brother and myself, so that when we had a visit, one of us took his seat on a box. The only bedding I brought from San Francisco was a sarape, which was insufficient, but with some persuasion we obtained a soldier's pallet and an armful of straw, out of which we made a comfortable bed. We were readily initiated into the household mysteries of sweeping, dusting, etc., and after a few days' practice felt competent to take charge of a much larger establishment. I took my meals at the Fonda de la Union, on the opposite ride of the street. It was an old, smoky place not uncomfortably clean, with a billiard-room and two small rooms adjoining, where the owner, a sallow Mexican, with his Indian cook and muchacho ntertained his customers. The place was frequented by % nunr 136 ELDORADO. her of the members and clerks of the Convention, by all rambling Americans or Californians who happened to be in Monterey, and occasionally a seaman or two from the ships in the harbor. The iharges were usually $1 per meal ; for which we were furnished with an olla of boiled beef, cucumbers and corn, an asado of beef and red-pepper, a guisado of beef and potatoes, and two or three cups of execrable coffee. At the time of my arrival this was the only restaurant in the place, and reaped such a harvest of pesot, that others were not long in starting up. There was one subject, which at the outset occasioned us many sleepless nights. In vain did we attempt to forego the contempla- tion of it ; as often as we lay down on our pallets, the thought would come uncalled, and very soon we were writhing under its attacks as restlessly as Richard on his ghost-haunted couch. It was no imaginary disturbance ; it assailed us on all sides, and without cessation. It was an annoyance by no means peculiar to California ; it haunts the temples of the Incas and the halls of the Montezumas ; I nave felt it come upon me in the Pantheon of Rome, and many a traveler has bewailed its visitation while sleep- ing in the shadow of the Pyramid. Nothing is more positively real to the feelings, nothing more elusive and intangible to the search. You look upon the point of its attack, and you see it not , you put your finger on it, and it is not there ! We tried all the means in our power to procure a good night's rest. We swept out the room, shook out the blankets and tuckeoj ourselves in so skillfully that we thought no flea could effect an entrance but in vain. At last, after four nights of waking tor- ment, I determined to give up the attempt ; I had become so ner- vous by repeated failures that the thought of it alone would have nrevnted sle^p. At bed-.timo, therefore, I took my blankets, THE PLEAS OUTWITTED. 137 *nd went up into the pine woods behind the town I chose a warm corner between some bushes and a fallen log ; the air was misty and chill and the moon clouded over, but I lay sheltered and comfortable on my pillow of dry sticks. Occasionally a par- tridge would stir in the bushes by my head or a squirrel rustlo among the dead leaves, while far back in the gloomy shadows of the forest the coyotes kept up an endless howl. I slept but in- differently, for two or three fleas had escaped the blanket-shak- ing, and did biting enough for fifty. After many trials, I finally nonplussed them hi spite of all their cunning. There is a thick green shrub in the forest, whose power- ful balsamic odor is too much for them. After sweeping the floor and sprinkling it with water, I put down my bed, previously well shaken, and surrounded it with a chevaux-de-frise of this shrub, wide enough to prevent their overleaping it. Thus moated and palisaded from the foe, I took my rest unbroken, to his utter discomfiture. Every day that I spent in Monterey, I found additional cause to recede from my first impression of the dullness of the place. Quiet it certainly is, to one coming from San Francisco ; but it is only dull in the sense that Nice and Pisa are dull cities. The bustle of trade is wanting, but to one not bent on gold-hunting, a delicious climate, beautiful scenery, and pleasant society are a full compensation. Those who stay there for any length of tune, love the place before they leave it which would scarcely be said of San Francisco. The situation of Monterey is admirable. The houses are built on a broad, gentle slope of land, about two miles from Point Pinos, the southern extremity of the bay. They are scattered over an extent of three quarters of a mile, leaving ample roonr 138 ELDORADO. for the growth of the town for many yean* to come. The outluu of the hills in the rear is somewhat similar to those of Staten Island, but they increase in height as they run to the south-east, till at the distance of four miles they are merged in the high mountains of the Coast Range. The northern shore of the bay is twenty miles distant, curving so far to the west, that the Pacific is no* visible from any part of the town. Eastward, a high, rooky ridge, called the Toro Mountains, makes a prominent object in the view, and when the air is clear the Sierra de Gavilan, beyond the Salinas plains, is distinctly visible. During my visit the climate was mild and balmy beyond that of the same season in Italy. The temperature was that of mid- May at home, the sky for the greater part of the time without a cloud, and the winds as pleasant as if tempered exactly to the warmth of the blood. A thermometer hanging in my room only varied between 52 and 54, which was about 10 lower than the air without. The siroccos of San Francisco are unknown in Monterey ; the mornings are frequently foggy, but it always clears about ten o'clock, and remains so till near sunset. The sky at noonday is a pure, soft blue. The harbor of Monterey is equal to any in California. The bight in which vessels anchor is entirely protected from the north- westers by Sea-Gull Point, and from the south-eastern winds by mountains in. the rear. In the absence of light-houses, the dense fog renders navigation dangerous on this coast, and in spite of an entrance twenty-five miles in breath, vessels frequently run below Point Pinos, and are obliged to anchor on unsafe ground in Car- mel Bay. A road leads from the town over the hills to the ex- Mission rf Carmel, situated at the head of the bay, about fbur miles distant. Just beyond it is Point Lobos, a promontory on THK GROWTH OF MONTEREY. 189 the coast, famous for the number of seals and sea-liens which congregate there at low tide. A light-house on Point Finos and another on Point Lobos would be a sufficient protection to naviga- tion for the present, and I understand that the agents of the Gov- ernment have recommended their erection. The trade of Monterey is rapidly on the increase. During my stay of five weeks, several houses were built, half a dozen store* opened and four hotels established, one of which was kept by a Chinaman. There were at least ten arrivals and departures of vessels, exclusive of the steamers, within that time, and I was credibly informed that the Collector of the Port had, during the previous five months, 'received about $150,000 in duties. Pre- visions of all kinds are cheaper than at San Francisco, but merchandize^ brings higher prices. At the Washington House, kept by a former private in Col. Stevenson's regiment, I obtained excellent board at $12 per week. The building, which belongs to an Italian named Alberto Tusconi, rented for $1,200 monthly. Rents of all kinds were high, $200 a month having been paid for rooms during the session of the Convention. Here, as in San Francisco, there are many striking instances of sudden prosperity. Mr. Tusconi, whom I have just mentioned, came out five years before, as a worker in tin. He was without money, but obtained the loan of some sheets of tin, which he manufactured into cups and sold. From this beginning he had amassed a fortune of $50,000, and was rapidly adding to his gains. There was a good deal of speculation in lots, and many of th aales, though far short of the extravagant standard of San Fran- cisco, were still sufficiently high. A lot seventy-five feet by twenty-five, with a small frame store upon it, was sold for $5 f OOO. A one-story house, with a lot about fifty by seventy-five feet, in 140 ELDORADO. the outskirts of the town, was held at $6,000. This was about khe average rate of property, and told well for a town which a year previous was deserted, and which, only six months before, contained no accommodations of any kind for the traveler. There is another circumstance which will greatly increase the commercial importance of Monterey. The discoveries of gold mines and placers on the Mariposa, and the knowledge that gold exists in large quantities on the Lake Fork, King's River and the Pitiuna streams which empty into the Tulare Lakes on their eastern side will hereafter attract a large portion of the mining population into that region. Hitherto, the hostility of the Indians in the southern part of the Sierra Nevada, and the richness of more convenient localities, have hindered the gold diggers from going beyond the Mariposa. The distance of these rivers from San Francisco, and the great expense of transporting supplies to the new mining district, will naturally direct a portion of the im- porting trade to some more convenient seaport. Monterey, with the best anchorage on the coast, is one hundred and twenty-five miles nearer the Tulare Lakes. By bridging a few arroyos, an excellent wagon road can be made through a pass in the Coast Range, into the valley of San Joaquin, opening a direct communi- cation with the southern placers. The removal of the Seat of Government to the Pueblo San Jose, will not greatly affect the consequence of the place. The advantages it has lost, are, at most, a slight increase of popula- tion, and the custom of the Legislature during its session. This will be made up in a different way ; a large proportion of the mining population, now in the mountains, will come down to the coast to winter and recruit themselves after the hardships of the Fall digging Of these, Monterey will attract the greater portion DOMESTIC LIFE AND 8OCIKTT. 141 as well from the salubrity of its climate as the comparative cheap- ness of living. The same advantages will cause it to be preferred, hereafter, as the residence of those who have retired from their golden labors. The pine-crowned slopes back of the town eon tain many sites of unsurpassed beauty for private residences. With the exception of Los Angeles, Monterey contains the most pleasant society to be found in California. There is a circle of families, American and native, residing there, whose genial and refined social character makes one forget his previous ideas of California life. In spite of the lack of cultivation, except such instruction as the priests were competent to give, the native popu- lation possesses a natural refinement of manner which would grace the most polished society. They acknowledge their want of edu- cation ; they tell you they grow as the trees, with the form and character that Nature gives them ; but even uncultured Nature in California wears all the ripeness and maturity of older lands. I have passed many agreeable hours in the houses of the native families. The most favorite resort of Americans is that of Dona Augusta Ximeno, the sister of Don Pablo de la Guerra. This lady, whose active charity in aiding the sick and distressed has won her the enduring gratitude of many and the esteem of all, has made her house the home of every American officer who visits Monterey. With a rare liberality, she has given up a great part of it to their use, when it was impossible for them to procure quar- ters, and they have always been welcome guests at her table. She H a woman whose nobility of character, native vigor and activity of intellect, and above all, whose instinctive refinement and winning grace of manner, would have given her a complete supremacy in society, had her lot been cast in Europe or the United States During the session of the Convention, her house was the favoritp 142 E .DORADO rosort of all the leading members, both American and Califor- nian. She was thoroughly versed in Spanish literature, as well as the works of Scott and Cooper, through translations, and I have frequently been surprised at the justness and elegance of her re marks on various authors. She possessed, moreover, all those told and daring qualities which are so fascinating in a woman, when softened and made graceful by true feminine delicacy. She was a splendid horsewoman, and had even considerable skill in throwing the lariat. The houses of Sefior Soveranez and Seflor Abrego were also much visited by Americans. The former gentleman served as a Captain in Mexico during the war, bat since then has subsided into a good American citizen. Seflor Abrego, who is of Mexican origin, was the most industrious Californian I saw in the country. Within a few years he had amassed a large fortune, which was in no danger of decreasing. I attended an evening party at his house, which was as lively and agreeable as any occasion of the kind well could be. There was a tolerable piano in his little parlor, on which a lady from Sydney, Australia, played " Non piu mesta" with a good deal of taste. Two American gentlemen gave us a few choice flute duetts, and the entertainment closed by a quadrille and polka, in which a little son of Senor Abrego figured, to the general admira- tion. The old and tranquil look of Monterey, before the discovery of the placers, must have seemed remarkable to visitors from the Atlantic side of the Continent. The serene beauty of the climate %ud soft, vaporous atmosphere, haye nothing in common with one'a ideas of a new, scarce-colonized coast ; the animals, even, are those of the old, civilized countries of Europe. Flocks of ravens croak fiom the tiled roofs, and cluster on the long adobe walls ; magpies QUIET OF THE TOWN POPULATION 143 chatter in the clumps of gnarled oak on the hills, and as you pass through the forest, hares start up from their coverts under the bearded pines. The quantity of blackbirds about the place is as tonishing ; in the mornings they wheel hi squadrons about every ouse-top, and fill the air with their twitter. But for the interest occasioned by the Convention, and the social impulse given to Monterey by the presence of its members, the town would hardly have furnished an incident marked enough to be remembered. Occasionally there was an arrival at the anchor- age generally from San Francisco, San Diego or Australia which furnished talk for a day or two. Then some resident would give a fandango, which the whole town attended, or the Alcalde would decree a general horn-burning. This was nothing less than the collecting of all the horns and heads of slaughtered animals, scatteied about the streets, into large piles, which burned through half the night, filling the ah- with a most unpleasant odor. When the atmosphere happened to be a little misty, the red light of these fires was thrown far up along the hills. I learned some very interesting facts during my stay, relative to the products of California. Wisconsin has always boasted of rais- ing the largest crops of talking humanity, but she will have to yield the palm to the new Pacific State, where the increase of population is entirely without precedent. A native was pointed out to me one day as the father of thirty-six children, twenty of irhoin were the product of his first marriage, and sixteen of hia last Mr. Hartnell, the Government translator, has a family ol twenty-one children. Sefior Abrego, who had been married twelve years, already counted as many heirs. Several other eouples to the plaoe had from twelve to eighteen ; and the former number, 1 was told, is the usual size of a family in California. Whether or [44 ELDORADO not this remarkable fecundity is attributable to the climate, I air unable to tell. The Californians, as a race, are vastly superior to the Mexicans They have larger frames, stronger muscle, and a fresh, ruddy com- plexion, entirely different from the sallow skins of the tierra ca- iiente or the swarthy features of those Bedouins of the West, the Sonorians. The families of pure Castilian blood resemble in fea- tures and build, the descendants of the Valencians in Chili and Mexico, whose original physical superiority over the natives of the other provinces of Spain, has not been obliterated by two hundred years of transplanting. Sefior Soveranez informed me that the Californian soldiers, on account of this physical distinction, were nicknamed " Americanos" by the Mexicans. They have no na- tional feeling in common with the latter, and will never forgive the cowardly deportment of the Sonorians toward them, during the recent war. Their superior valor, as soldiers, was amply expe rienced by our own troops, at the battle of San Pasquale. I do not believe, however, that the majority of the native popu- lation rejoices at the national change which has come over the country. On the contrary, there is much jealousy and bitter feel- ing among the uneducated classes. The vast tides of emigration from the A tlantic States thrice outnumbered them in a single year, and consequently placed them forever in a hopeless minority. They witnessed the immediate extinction of their own political importance, and the introduction of a new language, new customs, w'l Dew laws It is not strange that many of them should be op- poited to us at heart, even while growing wealthy and prosperous on dor the marvellous change which has been wrought by the en- terprise of our citizens. Nevertheless, we have many warm friends, and the United States many faithful subjects, among the The NATIONAL FEELING IN CALIFORNIA. 145 intelligent and influential faction which aided us during the war, is still faithful, and many who were previously discontented, are now loudest in their rejoicing. Our authorities have acted toward them with constant and impartial kindness. By pursuing a similar course, the future governn^eat of the State will soon obliterate the differences of race and condition, and all will then bo equally Cal ifornian and American citizens. CHAPTER XV, THE STATE ORGANIZATION OF CALIFORNIA IN some respects, the political history of California for the yeai 1849, is without a parallel in the annals of any nation. The events are too recent for us to see them in the clear, defined out- lines they will exhibit to posterity ; we can only describe them as they occurred, throwing the strongest light on those points which now appear most prominent. The discovery of the Gold Region of California occurred in little more than a month after the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, by which the country was ceded to the United States. Congress having adjourned without making provision for any kind.of civil organization, the Military Government established during the war continued in force, in conjunction with the local laws in force under the Mexican rule a most incongruous state of things, which gave rise to innumerable embarrassments. Meanwhile, the results of the gold discovery produced a complete revolution in society, up turning all branches of trade, industry or office, and for a time uompletely annulling the Government. Mexico and the South American republics sent then* thousands of adventurers into the country like a flood, far outnumbering the native population Daring the winter of 1848-9, the state of affairs was most critical STEPS TOWARD ORGANIZATION ^47 the Ajnej lean and foreign miners were embittered against eacb other ; the authorities were without power to enforce their orders, and there seemed no check to restrain the free exercise of all law- less passions. There was a check, however the steady integrity ind inborn capacity for creating and upholding Law, of a portion of the old American settlers and emigrants newly arrived. A single spark of Order will in time irradiate and warm into shape a world of disorderly influences. In the neglect of Congress to provide for the establishment of a Territorial Government, it was at first suggested that the People should provisionally organize such a Government among themselves. Various proposals were made, but before any decisive action was had on the subject, another and more appropriate form was given to the movement, chiefly through the labor and influence of a few individuals, who were countenanced by the existing authorities. This was, to call a Convention for the purpose of drafting a State Constitution, that California might at once be admitted into the Union, without passing through the usual Territorial stage leap- ing with one bound, as it were, from a state of semi-civilization to be the Thirty-First Sovereign Republic of the American Confede- racy. The vast influx of emigration had already increased the population beyond the required number, and the unparalleled speed with which Labor and Commerce were advancing warranted such a course, no less than the important natural resources of the eountry itself. The result of this movement was a proclamation from Gov. Riley, recommending that an election of Delegates to form such a Convention be held on the first of August, 1849. Gen. Riley, the Civil Governor appointed by the United States, Gen. Smith, and Mr. T. Butler King, during a tour through the mining districts in the early part of summer, took every occasion 148 ELDORADO. to interest the people in the subject, and stimulate them to hold preparatory meetings. The possibility of calling together and keeping together a body of men, many of whom must necessarily be deeply involved in business and speculation, was at first strongly doubted. In fact, in some of the districts named La the procla- mation, scarcely any move was made till a few days before the day of election. It was only necessary, however, to kindle the flame ; the intelligence and liberal public spirit existing throughout the country, kept it, alive, and the election passed over with complete success. In one or two instances it was not held on the day ap- pointed, but the Convention nevertheless admitted the delegates elected in such cases. Party politics had but a small part to play in the choice of can- didates. In the San Francisco and Sacramento districts there might have been some influences of this kind afloat, and other dis tricts undoubtedly sent members to advocate some particular local interest. But, taken as a body, the delegates did honor to California, and would not suflbr by comparison with any first State Convention ever held in our Republic. I may add, also, that a perfect harmony of feeling existed between the citizens of both races. The proportion of native Californian members to the American was about equal to that of the population. Some of the former received nearly the entire American vote Gen. Vallej at Sonoma, Antonio Pico at San Jose, and Miguel de Pedrorena at San Diego, for instance. The elections were all over, at the time of my arrival in Cali- fornia, and the 1st of September had been appointed as the day on which the Convention should meet. It was my intention to have been present at that time, but I did not succeed hi reaching Monte- rey until the 19th of the month. The Convention was not regularly THE CONVENTION MEETS. 149 organized until the 4th, when Dr. Robert Semple, of the Sonoma District, was chosen President and conducted to his seat bj Capt. Sutter and Gen. Vallejo. Capt. William G. Maroy, of the New-York Volunteer Regiment, was elected Secretary, after which the various post of Clerks, Assistant Secretaries, Transla- tors, Doorkeeper, Sergeant-at-Arms, etc., were filled. The day after their complete organization, the officers and members of the Convention were sworn to support the Constitution of the United States. The members from the Southern Districts were instruct- ed to vote in favor of a Territorial form of Government, but ex- pressed their willingness to abide the decision of the Convention. An invitation was extended to the Clergy of Monterey to open the meeting with prayer, and that office was thenceforth performed on alternate days by Padre Ramirez and Rev. S. H. Willey. The building in which the Convention met was probably the only one in California suited to the purpose. It is a handsome, two-story edifice of yellow sandstone, situated on a gentle slope, above the town It is named " Colton Hall," on account of its having been built by Don Walter Colton, former Alcalde of Monterey, from the proceeds of a sale of city lots. The stone of which it is built is found in abundance near Monterey; it is of a fine, mellow color, easily cut, and will last for centuries in that mild climate. The upper story, in which the Convention sat, formed a single hall about sixty feet in length by twenty-five in breadth. A railing, running across the middle, divided the members from the spectators. The former were seated at four long tables, the President occu- pying a rostrum at the further end, over which were sus- pended two American flags and an extraordinary picture of Washington, evidently the work of a native arti.-t. Tin- appearance of the whole body was exceedingly dignified and ELDORADO. intellectual, and parliamentary decorum was strictly observed A door in the centre of the hall opened on a square balcony, sup- ported by four pillars, where some of the members, weary with debate, came frequently to enjoy the mild September afternoon^ whose hues lay so softly on the blue waters of the bay. The Declaration of Rights, which was the first subject before the Convention, occasioned little discussion. Its sections being general in their character and of a liberal republican cast, were nearly all adopted by a nearly unanimous vote. The clause pro- hibiting Slavery was met by no word of dissent ; it was the uni- versal sentiment of the Convention. It is unnecessary to reca- pitulatc here the various provisions of the Constitution ; it will be enough to say tL^ they combined, with few exceptions, the most enlightened features of the Constitutions of older States. The election of Judges by the people the rights of married women to property the establishment of a liberal system of education and other reforms of late introduced into the State Governments easl of the Rocky Mountains, were all transplanted to the new soil of the Pacific Coast. The adoption of a system of pay for the officers and members of the Convention, occasioned some discussion. The Californian members and a few of the Americans patriotically demanded that the Convention should work for nothing, the glory being sufficient The majority overruled this, and finally decided that the mem- bers should receive $16 per day, the President $25, tie Secre tary and Interpreter $28, the Clerks $23 and $18, the Chaplahi $16, the Sergeant-at-Arms $22 and the Doorkeeper $12. The expenses of the Convention were paid out of the " Civil Fund," kn accumulation of the duties received at the ports. The funds irere principally silver, and at the close of their labors it was THE QUESTION OF SUFFRAGE 161 amnsing to see the members carrying their pay about town tied up in handkerchiefs or slung in bags over their shoulders. The little Irish boy, who acted as page, was nearly pressed down by the weight of his wages. One of the first exciting questions was a clause which had bee crammed through the Convention on its first reading, prohibiting the entrance of free people of color into the state. Its originator was an Oregon man, more accustomed to and better fitted for squatter life than the dignity of legislation. The members, by the time it was brought up for second reading, had thought more seriously upon the question, and the clause was rejected by a large majority : several attempts to introduce it in a modified form also signally failed. It was a matter of regret that the question of suffrage could not have been settled in an equitable and satisfactory manner. The article first adopted by the Convention, excluding Indians and Negroes, with their descendants, from the privilege of voting, was, indeed, modified by a proviso offered by Mr. de la Guerra, which gave the Legislature the power of admitting Indians or the de- scendants of Indians, by a two-thirds concurrent vote, to the right of suffrage. This was agreed to by many merely for the purpose of settling the question for the present ; but the native members will not be content to let it rest. Many of the most wealthy and respectable families in California have Indian blood in their veins, and even a member of the Convention, Domingue*, would be excluded from voting under this very clause. The Articles of the Constitution relating to the Executive, Ju- dicial and Legislative Departments occupied several days, but the debates were dry and uninteresting. A great deal of talk was ex- pended to no purpose, several of the members having the san 152 ELDORADO. morbid ambition in this respect, as may be found in our legisla fcive assemblies on this side of the mountains. A member from Sacramento severely tried the patience of the Convention by hie long harangues ; another was clamorous, not for his own rights bu* those of his constituents, although the latter were suspected of being citizens of Oregon. The Chair occasionally made a bung- ling decision, whereupon two of the members, who had previously served hi State Assemblies, would aver that in the whole course of their legislative experience they had never heard of such & thing. Now and then a scene occurred, which was amusing enough. A section being before the Convention, declaring that every citizen arrested for a criminal offence should be tried by a jury of his peers, a member, unfamiliar with such technical terms, moved to strike out the word " peers." " I don't like that word ' peers,' " said he ; " it a'int republican ; I'd like to know what we want with peers in this country we're not a monarchy, and we've got no House of Parliament. I vote for no such law." The boundary question, however, which came up towards tho close of the Convention, assumed a character of real interest and importance. The great point of dispute on this question was the ^astern limit of the State, the Pacific being the natural boundary on the West, the meridian of 42 on the North, and the Mexi- can line, run in conformity with the treaty of Queretaro, on the South. Mr. Hastings, a member from Sacramento, moved that the eastern boundary, beginning at the parallel of 42, should follow the meridian of 118 W. long, to 38 N. thence running direct to the intersection of the Colorado with 114 W. following that river to the Mexican line. This was proposed late on Mon- day night, and hurried through by a bare majority. Messrs Gwin and Hallcck, of the Boundary Committee, with all the Cali TROUBLE ABOUT THE BOUXDARY. 153 fornian aiembers, and some others, opposed this propos.tion, claiming that the original Spanish boundary, extending to the line of New Mexico, should be adopted. With some difficulty a re- consideration of the vote was obtained, and the House adjourned without settling the i^iestion. The discussion commenced in earnest the next morning. The members were all present, and as the parties were nearly balanced the contest was very animated and excited. It assumed, in fact, more of a party character than any which had previously come up. The grounds taken by the party desiring the whole territory were that the Convention had no right to assume another boundary than that originally belonging to California ; that the measure would extend the advantages and protecting power of law over a vast inland territory, which would otherwise remain destitute of such protection for many years to come ; that, finally, it would settle the question of Slavery for a much greater extent of terri- tory, and in a quiet and peaceful manner. The opposite party that which advocates the Sierra Nevada as the boundary line contended that the Constitution had no right to include the Mor- mon settlers in the Great Salt Lake country in a State, whose Constitution they had no share in forming, and that nearly the *hole of the country east of the Sierra Nevada was little bettei than a desert. After a hot discussion, which lasted the whole day, the vote was reversed, and the report of the Boundary Committee (includ- ing all the Territory as far as New Mexico) adopted. The oppo- sition party, defeated after they were sure of success, showed thcif ihagrin rather noisily. At the announcement of the vote, a iozen members jumped up, speaking and shouting hi the most confused and disorderly manner. Some rushed out of the room 154 ELDORADO. others moved an adjournment ; others again protested they wool3 and sentiment met with universal approval, and it was adopted without a dissenting voice. A resolution was then offered to pay Licit. Hamilton, who is now engaged in engrossing the Constitn tton upon parchment, the sum of $500 for his labor. This mag- nificent prioe, probably the highest ever paid for a similar serrice IB on a par with all things else in California. As this was then last session, the members were not disposed to find fault with it, especially when it was stated by one of them that Lieut. Hamilton had written day and night to have it ready, and was still working upon it, though with a lame and swollen hand. The sheet for the signers' names was ready, and the Convention decided to adjourn for half an hour and then meet for the purpose of signing. I amused myself during the interval by walking about the town. Everybody knew that the Convention was about closing, and it was generally understood that Capt. Burton had loaded the guns at the fort, and would fire a salute of thirty-one guns at the propei mo- ment. The citizens, therefore, as well as the members, were in an excited mood. Monterey never before looked so bright, so happy, so full of pleasant expectation. About one o'clock the Convention met again ; few of the mem- bers, indeed, had left the hall. Mr. Semple, although in feeble health, called them to order, and, after having voted Gen. Riley a salary of $10,000, and Mr. Halleck, Secretary of State, $6,000 a year, from the commencement of their respective offices, they pro- ceeded to affix their names to the completed Constitution. At this moment a signal was given ; the American colors ran up the Bag-staff in front of the Government buildings, and streamed ont wi the air A second afterward the first gun boomed from the fort, and its stirring echoes came back from one hill after anothei till they were lost in the distance 164 ELDORADO. All the native enthusiasm of Capt Sutter's Swiss blood was aroused ; he was the old soldier again. He sprang from his seat, and, waving his hand around his head, as if swinging a sword, ex- claimed : u G-entlemen, this is the happiest day of iny life. It makes ne glad to hear those cannon : they remind me of the time when I was a soldier. Yes, I am glad to hear them this is a great day for California !" Then, recollecting himself, he sat down, the tears streaming from his eyes. The members with one accord, gave three tumultuous cheers, which were heard from one end of the town to the other. As the signing went on, gun followed gun from the fort, the echoes reverberating grandly around the bay, till finally, as the loud ring of the thirty-first was heard, there waa a shout : " That's for California !" and every one joined in giving three times three for the new star added to our Confederation. There was one handsome act I must not omit to mention. The Captain of the English bark Volunteer, of Sidney, Australia, ly- ing in the harbor, sent on shore in the morning for an American flag. When the first gun was heard, a line of colors ran flutter- ing up to the spars, the stars and stripes flying triumphantly from the main-top. The compliment was the more marked, as some of the American vessels neglected to give any token of recogni- tion to the event of the day. The Constitution having been signed and the Convention dis solved, the members proceeded in a body to the house of Gen. Riley. The visit was evidently unexpected by the old veteran. When he made his appearance Captain Sutter stepped forward And having shaken him by the hand, drew himself into an erect attitude, raised one hand to his breast as if he were making a re- port to his commanding officer on the field of battle, and addressed him as follows: QEN RILET AND THE MEMBERS. Ifjft GENERAL : I have been appointed by the Delegates, elected t-y the people of California to form a Constitution, to addroei you in their names and in behalf of the whole people of Cali- fornia, and express the thanks of the Convention for the aid and codperation they have received from you in the discharge of the i espensible duty of creating a State Government. And, sir, the Convention, as you will perceive from the official records, duly ap- preciates the great and important services you have rendered to our common country, and especially to the people of California, and entertains the confident belief that you will receive from the whole of the people of the United States, when you retire from your official duties here, that verdict so grateful to the heart of the patriot : ' Well done, thou good and faithful servant.' " Gen. Riley was visibly affected by this mark of respect, no less appropriate than well deserved on his part. The tears in his eyes and the plain, blunt sincerity of his voice and manner, went to the heart of every one present. " Gentlemen :" he said, " I never made a speech in my life. I am a soldier but I can fed ; and I do feel deeply the honor you have this day conferred upon me. Gentlemen, this is a prouder day to me than that on which my soldiers cheered me on the field of Contreras. I thank you all from my heart. I am satisfied now that the people have done right in selecting Delegates to frame a Constitution. They have ehosen a body of men upon whom our country may look with pride : you have framed a Constitution worthy of CaJifoinia. And T have no fear for California while her people choose theif Representatives so wisely. Gentlemen, I congratulate you upon the successful conclusion of your arduous labors ; and I wish you ill happiness and prosperity." The General was here interrupted with three hearty cheen 166 ELDORADO. which thfl members gave him, as Governor of California, followeo by three more, " as a gallant soldier, and worthy of his country's glory." He then concluded in the following words : " I tave but one thing to add, gentlemen, and that is, that my success in die affairs of California is mainly owing to the efficient aid ren- dered me by Capt. Halleck, the Secretary of State. He has stood by me in all emergencies. To him I have always appealed when at a loss myself; and he has never failed me." This recognition of Capt. Halleck's talents and the signal ser- vice he has rendered to our authorities here, since the conquest, was peculiarly just and appropriate. It was so felt by the mem- bers, and they responded with equal warmth of feeling by giving three enthusiastic cheers for the Secretary of State. They then took their leave, many of them being anxious to start this after- noon for their various places of residence. All were in a happy and satisfied mood, and none less so than the native members Pedrorena declared that this was the most fortunate day in the history of California. Even Carillo, in the beginning one of our most zealous opponents, displayed a genuine zeal for the Constitu- tion, which he helped to frame under the laws of our Republic. Thus closes the Convention ; and I cannot help saying, with Capt. Sutter, that the day which sees laid the broad and libera" foundation of a free and independent State on the shores of the Pacific, is a great day for California. As an American, I fee] proud and happy proud, that the Empire of the West, the com- merce of the great Pacific, the new highway to the Indies, form- hg the last link in that belt of civilized enterprise which now clasps the world, has been established under my country's flag ; nnd happy, that in all the extent of California, from the glittering snows of the Shaste to the burning deserts of the Colorado, nc MORAL OF THE CONVENTION 167 slave shall ever lift his arm to make the freedom of that flag a mockery. The members of the Convention may have made some blun- ders in the course of their deliberations ; there may be some ob- 'ectionable clauses in the Constitution they have framed. But where was there ever a body convened, under such peculiar cir- cumstances ? where was ever such harmony evolved out of so wonderful, so dangerous, so magnificent a chaos ? The elemente :>f which the Convention was composed were no less various, and in some respects antagonistic, than those combined in the mining population. The questions they had to settle were often perplex- ing, from the remarkable position of the country and the absence of all precedent. Besides, many of them were men unused to legislation. Some had for years past known no other life than that of the camp ; others had nearly forgotten all law in the wild life of the mountains ; others again were familiar only with that practiced under the rule of a different race. Yet the courtesies of debate have never been wantonly violated, and the result oi every conflict of opinion has been a quiet acquiescence on the part of the minority. Now, at the conclusion, the only feeling is that of general joy and congratulation. Thus, we have another splendid example of the ease and se- turity with which people can be educated to govern themselves From that chaos whence, under the rule of a despotism like the A.ustrian would spring the most frightful excesses of anarchy vid crime, a population of freemen peacefully and quietly de- velops the highest form of civil order the broadest extent of liberty and security. Governments, bad and corrupt as many of them are, and imperfect as they all must necessarily be, never iheless at times exhibit scenes of true moral sublimity. What J 168 ELDORADO have to-day witnessed has so impressed me ; and were I a be- liever in omens, I would augur from the tranquil beauty of this evening from the clear sky and the lovely sunset hues on the waters of the bay more than all, from the joyous expression of i vary face I see- -a glorious and prosperous career ftr the STATE -p CALIFORNIA! CHAPTER XYIL SHORE AND FOREST. No one can be in Monterey a single night, without being startled and awed by the deep, solemn crashes of the surf as it breaks along the shore. There is no continuous roar of the plunging waves, as we hear on the Atlantic seaboard ; the slow, regular swells quiet pulsations of the great Pacific's heart roll inward in unbroken lines and fall with single grand crashes, with inter- vals of dead silence between. They may be heard through the day, if one listens, like a solemn undertone to all the shallow noises of the town, but at midnight, when all else is still, those successive shocks fall upon the ear with a sensation of inexpres- sible solemnity. All the air, from the pine forests to the sea, is filled with a light tremor and the intermitting beats of sound are strong enough to jar a delicate ear. Their constant repetition at last produces a feeling something like terror. A spirit worn and weakened by some scathing sorrow could scarcely bear the re- rerberation. When there has been a gale outside, and a morning of dazzling jlearness succeeds a night of fog and cold wind, the swells aro loudest and most magnificent. Then their lines of foam are flung upward like a snowy fringe along the dark-blue hem of the sea VOL. i. 8 170 ELDORADO. and a light, glittering mist constantly rises from the hollow curv of the shore. One quiet Sunday afternoon, when the uproar was such as to be almost felt in the solid earth, I walked out along the sand till I had passed the anchorage and could look on the open Pacific. The surface of the bay was comparatively calm ; but within a few hundred yards of the shore it upheaved with a slow majestic movement, forming a single line more than a mile it length, which, as it advanced, presented a perpendicular front of clear green water, twelve feet in height. There was a gradual curving-in of this emerald wall a moment's waver and the whole mass fell forward with a thundering crash, hurling the shattered spray thirty feet into the air. A second rebound followed ; and the boiling, seething waters raced far up the sand with a sharp , trampling, metallic sound, like the jangling of a thousand bars oi iron. I sat down on a pine log, above the highest wave-mark, and watched this sublime phenomenon for a long time. The sand-hills behind me confined and redoubled the sound, prolonging it from crash to crash, go that the ear was constantly filled with it. Once, a tremendous swell came in close on the heels of one that had just broken, and the two uniting, made one wave, which shot far be- yond the water-line and buried me above the knee. As far as I could see, the shore was white with the subsiding deluge. It was a fine illustration of the magnificent language of Scripture : " He maketh the deep to boil like a pot ; he maketh the sea like a pot .)f ointment ; one would think the deep to be hoary." The pine forest behind the town encloses in its depths many spots of remarkable loneliness and beauty. The forest itself had a peculiar charm for me, and scarcely a day passed without my exploring some part of its solemn region. The old, rugged trees, blackened with many fires, aro tliickly bearded with long gray THE FOREST SWIMMING A RAVINE. 171 moss, which gives out a hoarse, dull sound as the sea-wind sweepa through them. The promontory of Monterey is entirely covered with them, excepting only the little glens, or cafiadas, which wind (heir way between the interlocking bases of the hills. Here, the grass is thick and luxuriant through the whole year ; the pines eh ut out all sight but the mild, stainless heaven above their tops ; the air is fragrant with the bay and laurel, and the light tread of a deer or whirr of a partridge, at intervals, alone breaks the deli- cious solitude. The far roar of the surf, stealing up through the avenues of the forest, is softened to a murmur by the time it reaches these secluded places. No more lovely hermitages for thought or the pluming of callow fancies, can be found among the pine-bowers of the Villa Borghese. After climbing all of the lesser heights, and barking my haud on the rough bark of a branchless pine, in the endeavor to climb it for a look-out, I started one afternoon on an expedition to the top of a bald summit among the hills to the southward. It was appa- rently near at hand and easy of access, but after I had walked several miles, 1 saw, from the top of a ridge, that a deep valley a chasm, almost was to be passed before I could reach even its foot. The side seemed almost precipitous and the loose stones blid under my feet ; but by hanging to the low limbs of trees, I succeeded in getting to the bottom. The bed of the valley, not aiore than a hundred yards in breadth, was one matted mass of wild vines, briars and thorny shrubs. I trusted to the strength o my corduroys for defence against them, and to a good horse-pisto. should I stumble on some wild beast's lair and plunged in. At the first step I sank above my head, without touching the bottom. The briars were woven so closely that it was impossible to press through or creep under them ; I could only flounder along, draw- 172 ELDORADO. ing myself up by the greatest exertions, to sink into another gulf a few inches in advance. My hands and clothes were torn, mj mouth filled with dry and bitter pollen from the withered vinos that brushed my face, and it was only after an hour's labor that 1 reached the other side, completely exhausted. I climbed the opposite hill, thinking my object nearly attained when lo ! another, a deeper and rougher chasm still intervened. The sun was already down and I gave up the journey. Prom the end of the ridge I had attained, I overlooked all the circumferenca of the bay. Behind the white glimmer of the town the forest rose with a gradual sweep, while before me lay a wide extent of undu- lating hills, rolling off to the Salinas Plains, which appeared be- yond " Dim tracts and vast, robed in the lustrous gloom Of leaden-colored even, and fiery hills Mingling their flames with twilight, on the verge Of the remote horizon." Taking another road, I wandered home in the dusk, not witt out some chance of losing myself among the frequent hollows and patches of chapparal. I lay hi wait half an hour for two deer, a glimpse of whom I had caught in the woods, but as I had not the keen sight of a Kentucky hunter, I uas obliged to go home with- out them. The opposite shore of the promontory contains many striking and picturesque points, to which the Montereyans often resort on parties of pleasure. One of the most remarkable of these is Punta fie lot Ciprcses, or Cypress Point, which I visited several times One of my most memorable days, while at Monterey, was spent there in cojapany with my friend, Koss Browne. We started early in the morning, carrying with us a loaf of bread and a piece DINNER BT THE SEA-SIDE. 173 of raw beef, as materials for dinm r. After threading the mazes of the forest for several miles, we came upon the hleak sand-hills piled like snow-drifts between the forest and the beach. The bare tongue of land which jutted out beyond them was covered with a carpet of maritime plants, among which I noticed one with a beau- tiful star-like flower : another, with succulent, wax-like leaves, bears a fruit which is greatly relished by the Californians. The extremity of the Point is a mass of gray rock, worn by the surf into fantastic walls and turrets. The heavy swells of the open sea, striking their bases with tremendous force, fill their crevices with foaming spray, which pours off in a hundred cata- racts as the wave draws back for another shock. In the narrow channels between the rocks, the pent waters roll inland with great force, flooding point after point and flinging high into the air the purple flags and streamers of sea-weed, till they reach the glassy, sheltered pools, that are quietly filled and emptied with every pulsation of the great sea without. A cold mist hung over the sea, which heightened the wildness and bleakness of the scene and made it inspiring. Flocks of sea-gulls uttered their shrill, piping cry as they flew over us, and a seal now and then thrust up hia inquisitive head, outside of the surf. We collected the drift-wood which lay scattered along the shore, and made a roaring fire on the rocks. After having sliced *nd spitted our meat and set our bread to toast, we crept into the crevices that opened to the sea, and at the momentary risk of being drenched, tore off the muscles adhering to them. When well roasted, their flesh is tender and nearly as palatable as that of an oyster ; it is of a brigit orange color, with a little black beard at one end, which is intensely bitter and must be rejected We seasoned our meat by dipping it info the sea, and when our 174 ELDORADO. meal was ready, ato it from the pearly shells of the avdont,^ whicl strewed the sand. It was a rare dinner, that, with its grand ac- companiment of surf-music and the clanging sea-gulls as oui attendants. On our way home we came suddenly on a pack of leven black wolves, who had been feeding on the body of a large stranded fish. They gave a howl of surprise and started off at full speed, through the bushes, where I attempted to follow them, bat my legs were no match for their fleetness. I rode to Point Pinos one afternoon, in company with Major Hill. Our way was through the Pine Forest ; we followed no regular path, but pushed our horses through chapparal, leaped them over trees that had been uprooted in the last winter's storms, and spurred them at a gallop through the cleared inter vals. A narrow ridge of sand intervenes between the pines and the sea. Beyond it, the Point a rugged mass of gray sandstone rock, washed into fantastic shapes, juts out into the Pacific. The tide was at its ebb, but a strong wind was blowing, and the shock and foam of the swells was magnificent. We scrambled from ledge to ledge till we gained the extremity of the Point, and there, behind the last rock that fronts the open sea, found a little shel- tered cove, whose sides and bottom were covered with star -fish, avelones, muscles, and polypi of brilliant colors. There were prickly balls of purple, rayed fish of orange and scarlet, broad flower-like animals of green and umber hue, and myriads of little crabs and snails, all shining through the clear green water. The velone, which is a univalve, found clinging to the sides of rocks, furnishes the finest mother-of-pearl. We had come provided with a small iron bar, which was more than a match for their suction power, and in a short space of time secured a number of theii beautiful shells. Among the sand-hills and even in some part- OFOLOOY AND INDIAN TRADITION 175 of the forest, the earth is strewed with them. The natives were formerly in the habit of gathering them into large heaps and mak- ing lime therefrom. The existence of these shells in the soil is but one of the facts which tend to prove the recent geological formation of this part of the coast. There is every reason to believe that a great part of the promontory on which Monterey is built, was at no very re- mote period of time covered by the sea. A sluggish salt lagoon. east of the Catholic Church, was not more than twenty years ago a part of the bay, from which it is now separated by a sandy mea- dow, quarter of a mile in breadth. According to an Indian tra- dition, of comparatively modern origin, the waters of San Francisco Bay once communicated with the bay of Monterey lay the valley uf San Jose and the Rio del Pajaro. I should think a level of fifty feet, or perhaps less above the present one, would suffice to have effected this. The other Indian tradition, that the outlet of the Golden Gate was occasioned by violent disruption of the hills, through the means of an earthquake, is not based on natural evidence. The sloughs and marshes in the valley of San Joaquin, and around the Tulare Lakes, present every appearance of having been left by the drainage of a subsiding ocean. A thorough geological exploration of California would undoubtedly bring to light many strange and interesting facts connected with her physical formation. On our way home, we discovered a sea-otter, basking on a wclated rock. Major Hill crept stealthily to within about fifi yards of him, took good aim and fired. He gave a convulsive leap nd tumbled into the sea, evidently badly wounded, if not killed His boady floated out on the waves, and a flock of sea-mews, at- tracted by the blood, flew round him, uttering their piping cry 1 76 K I. DOR ADO. Mid darting down to the water. The otter is rare on this part of the coast, and the skin of one is valued at $40. I shall notice but on 3 other ramble about the forests and ghoies of Monterey. This was a visit to the ex-Mission of Carmel and Point Lobos, which I made in company with Mr. Lyon, one of the Secretaries of the Convention. A well-traveled road, leading ovei the hills, conducted us to the Mission, which is situated ou the Pacific side of the promontory, at the head of a shallow bay The beautiful but deserted valley in which it stands is threaded by the Rio de Carmel, whose waters once gave unfailing fertility to its now neglected gardens. The Mission building is in the form of a hollow Square, with a spacious court-yard, overlooked by a heavy belfry and chapel-dome of sun-dried bricks. The out-buildings of thr Indian retainers and the corrals of earth that once herded thou sands of cattle are broken down and tenantless. We climbed into the tower and struck the fine old Spanish bells, but the sound called no faces into the blank windows. We bribed a red-headed boy, who was playing with two or three younger children in the court-yard, to bring us the keys of the church. His father an American who had been many years in the country and taken unto himself a native wife followed, and opened for us the weather-beaten doors. The interior of the Church was lofty, the ceiling a rude attempt at a Gothic arch, and the shrine a huge, faded mass of gilding and paint, with some monkish portraits of saints. A sort of side-chapel near the en- trance was painted with Latin mottos and arabesque scrolls which exhibited a genuine though uncultivated taste for adornment. The walls were hung with portraits of saints, some black and some white, some holding croziers, some playing violins and some bap- tizing Indians Near the altar is the tomb of Padre Juniperc THB SEA-LIONS ON POINT LOBO8. IT? Ben a, Jie founder of Monterey and the zealous pioneer in the settlement and civilization of California. We reached Point Lobos, which is three miles beyond the Mis- sion, by a ride along the beach. It is a narrow, bluff headland, overgrown with pines nearly to its extremity. The path brought ns to the brink of a stony declivity, shelving down to the sea Off the Point, and at the distance of not more than two hundred yards, is a cluster of low rocks, some of which are covered with a deposit of guano. As we reined up on the edge of the bluff, a most extraordinary sound met our ears a mingled bellowing, groaning and snorting, unlike anything I had ever heard. The rocks seemed to be in motion at the first glance, and one might readily have imagined that the sound proceeded from their uneasy heaving on the waves. But, on looking more closely, I saw that their visible surface was entirely covered with the huge bodies of the seals and sea-lions who had congregated there great, un wieldy, wallowing creatures, from eight to fifteen feet in length, rolling to and fro among each other and uttering their peculiar bellowing cry. Occasionally, a group of them would slip off into the water, and attracted by their curiosity, approach the shore. The sea-lions, with their broad heads, rough manes and square fronts, showed some resemblance to the royal beast, when viewed ID front. They are frequently captured and killed by whalers for ths sake of their blubber, which yields a considerable quantity of a. I attended the Catholic Church in Monterey one Sunday, to hear good old Padre .Ramirez. The church is small and with scanty decorations ; the nave and gallery were both crowded by the Californian families and Indians. Near the door hung oppo- rite pictures of Heaven and Hell the former a sort of pyramid fc* 178 ELDORADO. inhabited by straight white figures, with an aspect of solemn d tress; the latter enclosed in the expanded jaws of a dragon, swarming with devils who tormented their victims with spears and pitchforks. The church music was furnished by a diminutive parlor-organ, and consisted of a choice list of polkas, waltzes and fandango airs. Padre Ramirez preached a very excellent sermon recommending his Catholic flock to follow the example of the Protestants, who, he said, were more truly pious than they, and did much more for the welfare of their church. I noticed that during the sermon, several of the Californians disappeared through a small door at the end of the gallery. Following them, out of curiosity, I found them all seated in the belfry and along the oo ping of the front, composedly smoking their cigars. There was a little gold excitement in Monterey during my visit, on account of the report that a washing of considerable rich- ness had been discovered near the Mission of San Antonio, among the Coast Mountains, sixty miles to the southward. According to the accounts which reached us, a number of people had com- menced working there, with fair success, and traders were begin- ning to send their teams in that direction. Grold was also said to exist in small quantities near the Mission of Carmel, where, in- deed, there were strong geological indications of it. These dis- coveries, however, were too slight to affect the repose of the town, a much greater excitement Ct uld scarcely have shaken CHAPTER XYffl, OLt CALIFORNIA ITS MISSIONS AND ITS LANDS. THREE or four weeks of my stay in Monterey were principally passed in the office of the Civil Government, where I was em- ployed in examining all the records relating to land titles and Mission property in California. Notwithstanding the apparent dry ness of the subject, I found the documents curious and inter- esting. The smoky papel sellado on which they were written the naive and irregular orthography the rude drawings and maps which accompanied them and the singular laws and customs of which they gave evidence, had a real charm to any one possessing the slightest relish for the odor of antiquity. Most interesting of all was a box of records, brought from La Paz, Lower California, where many similar boxes, equally precious, were used for the wadding of Castro's cannon. Among its contents were letters of instruction from the Viceroy Galvez, original letters of Padre Junipero Serra and mandates from the Bishops of Mexico to the Missionaries in Sonora and California I was never tired of hear ing Capt. Halleck, the Secretary of State, whose knowledge of the early history of California is not equalled by any one in the coun- try, talk of those marvellous times and make clear ths misty tueining of the rare old papers. 180 ELDORADO. The extensive history of Yanegas, an abridgment of wtuah hai been introduced by Mr. Forbes into his work on California, is the most complete of all which have been written. It is mainly con- fined, however, to the settlement of the Peninsula, and throws no light on the after decay and ruin of the Missions of Alta Cali- fornia. These establishments, to which solely are owing the set- tlement and civilization of the country, have now entirely fallen from their former supremacy, and are of no further importance in a civil view. Some facts concerning the manner of their down- fall, which I learned during my labors among the archives, may be not inappropriately given here. Henceforth, under the ascendancy of American institutions, they have no longer an existence : shall we not, therefore, now that their day is over, take one backward glance over the places they have filled and the good or evil they have accomplished ? The history of their original foundation is one of remarkable interest. Through the perseverance and self-denying labors of a few Catholic Priests alone, the natives, not only of the Peninsula and the Coast, as far north as San Francisco Bay, but the exten- sive provinces of Sonora and Sinaloa, were taught the arts of civilized life and subjected to the dominion of Spain. The lives of Padres Kino, Salvatierra and Ugarte exhibit instances of dan- ger, adventure and heroic endurance scarcely inferior to those of Cortez and Coronado. The great work they accomplished on the Peninsula and in the Northern Provinces of Mexico, in the begin- ning of the last century, was followed fifty years later by Padre Jnnipero Serra, who in 1769 founded the Mission of San Diego the first settlement in Alta California. In the succeeding yea? he landed at Monterey, and by a solemn mass which was per formed under an oak-tree still standing near the fort, took posses- RISE OF THE MISSIONS. 181 sion of the spot After laboring for thirteen years with indefati- gable zeal and a ^tivity, during which time he founded nine missions, the good Padre died in 1784, and was buried in the grave-yard of Carmel. His successors continued the work, ard by the year 1800 had increased the number of Missions to sixteen. Sine* that time only three more have been added. The Missions arr named and located as follows : San Rafael and San Francisco So- lano, north of San Francisco Bay ; Dolores, near San Francisco , Santa Clara and San Jose, near Pueblo San Jose ; San Juan, Santa Cruz and Carmel, near Monterey ; Soledad, San Antonio and San Miguel, in the Valley of Salinas River ; San Luis Obispo ; La Purisiina, Santa Ynez, Santa Barbara and San Buenaventura, near Santa Barbara ; San Gabriel and San Fernando, near Los Angeles; and San Luis Rey, San Juan Capistrano and San Diego, on the coast, south of Los Angeles. The wealth and power in the possession of these Missions natu- rally excited the jealousy of Government, after California was organized into a territory. The padres, however, had been granted almost unlimited privileges by the earlier Viceroys, and for a long time no authority could be found to dispossess them. A decree of the Spanish Cortes, in 1813, relating to the Missions of South America, was made the basis of repeated attempts to overthrow the temporal power of the padres, but without effect, and from 1800 to 1830, they revelled securely in the full enjoyment of Iheii wealthy establishments. That, indeed, was their age of gold a right bounteous and pros- perous time, toward which many of the Californian and even of the old American residents, look back with regret. Then, each Mis- sion was a little principality, with its hundred thousand acres, and its twenty thousand head of cattle. All the Indian population 182 ELDORADO. except the " Gentiles" of the mountains, were the subjects of the padres, cultivating for them their hroad lands and reverencing them with the same devout faith as they did the patron saint of the settlement. The spacious galleries, halls and courtyards of the Missions exhibited every sign of order and good government, and from the long rows of adobe houses flanking them an obedient crowd came forth, at the sound of morning and evening chimes. The tables of the padres were laden with the finest fruits and vegetables from their thrifty gardens and orchards, and flasks Oi excellent wine from their own vineyards. The stranger who came that way was entertained with a lavish hospitality for which all re- compense was proudly refused, and on leaving, was welcome to exchange his spent horse for his pick out of the caballada. Nearly all the commerce of the country with other nations was in their hands. Long habits of management and economy gave them a great aptitude for business of all kinds, and each succeeding year witnessed an increase of their wealth and authority. The first blow given to their privileges, was a decree of the Su- preme Government of Mexico, dated August 17, 1833, by which the Missions of Upper and Lower California were secularized and became public property. They were converted by law into parishes, and the padres, from being virtual sovereigns of their domains, became merely curates, possessing only spiritual powers .rver their former subjects. Instead of managing the revenue oi the estates, they were paid from $2,000 to $2,500, at the option of Government. The church was still kept for religious purposes. w>d the principal building for the curate's house, while other por- tions of the establishment were appropriated to the purposes ot tonrt-houses and schools. This law of course emancipated the Indians from the authority tHEIR DOWNFALL. 183 of th p 1 1 ;''<. and likewise- absolved the latter fiom their obliga- tions to maintain them. To provide for their support, therefore, the Government granted to every head of a family a lot from one to four hundred varas square, which was assigned to the use )f themselves and their descendants, but could not be sold by them under penalty of the land reverting back to the public domain. The temporal affairs of each Mission were placed under the charge of an Ayunt.uniento, who was commissioned to explain to the In dians the new relations and put them in possession of the land A portion of the revenue was applied to their benefit, and in re- turn therefor they were obliged to assist in cultivating the common lands of the rew pneblos I-T parishes. By a further decree, in 1> 1". rrnvernor Alvarad} substituted majordoinos in place of the ayuntamientos, giving them power to manage the temporal affairs of the Missions, but not to dispose of the revenues or contract debts without the permission of Government. These decrees put a stop to the prosperity of the Missions. Tho Padres, seeing the establishments taken out of their hands, employed themselves no longer in superintending their cultivation ; while the Indians, though free, !ost the patient guidance and encourage- ment they had received, and relapsed into their hereditary habits of sloth and stupidity. Many of them scattered from their homes, resuming a roving life among the mountains, and very soon several of the Missions almost ceased to have an existence. Gov. Michel- torena, therefore, in 1843, in a pompous proclamation setting forth bis loyalty to the Catholic Faith, attempted to restore the former tate of things by delivering twelve of the Missions into the hand* of the priests. He declared, at the same time, that all the cattle and property should be given up to them, but that those portions of the Mission estates which had been granted to individuals shouW 184 ELDORADO. still remain in possession of the latter. The proclamation, BO fai as I can learn, never went into effect, and the chasing of Michel toreua from the country soon put an end to his plans In the year 1845 Governor Pio Pico completed the obliteration of the Missions. By a Government decree he directed that the Missions of San Juan, Carmel, San Francisco Solano and San Juan Capistrano should be sold at auction on a specified day, One month's notice was given to the Indian neophytes of tha Missions of San Rafael, Dolores, Soledad, San Miguel and La Purisima to return to the cultivation and occupancy of the lands assigned them by Government, otherwise the same should be de- clared unoccupied and disposed of like the preceding. All the remaining Missions, except the Episcopal Mansion at Santa Bar- bara, were to be rented. Of the proceeds of these sales and leases one-third was to be used for the support of the resident priests, one-third for the benefit of the Indians, and the remaining third constituting the Pious Fund of California to be applied to purposes of education and beneficence. The Indian neophytes of the five last-named Missions having neglected to assemble, Pico, by a decree in October, 1845, or- dered that they should be sold to the highest bidder ; and at the same time, that those of San Fernando, Buenaventura, Santa Barbara and Santa Ynez, should be rented for the term of nine years. This was the last valid decree touching the Missions. The remaining Missions of Santa Clara, San Joso, Santa Cruz, San Antonio, San Luis Obispo, San Gabriel and San Diego wen 1 therefore thrown immediately into the hands of the United States after possession had been taken by our troops ; and all Missioi property not legally granted or sold under the laws of California becomes part of the public domain. EXTENT OF THE MISSION PROPERTY. 185 I endeavored to obtain some statistics of the land, cattle and other property belonging to the various Missions. The data on record, however, partake of the same indefinite character as the description of lands for which grants are asked. I found, it is true, an account of the boundaries of most of the Missions, with the quality of the land embraced by them, but the particulars, notwithstanding they were given by the resident padres themselves, are very unsatisfactory. The lands are described as lying between certain hills and rivers, or embracing certain plains ; sometimes they are spoken of as canadas or llanos only. Some are of great extent ; the Mission lands of San Antonio contain two hundred and twenty-five square leagues and those of San Miguel five hun- dred and thirty-two. The others vary from twenty to one hun- dred square leagues. At a rough guess, I should compute the original Mission lands at about eight millions of acres ; probably four to five millions of acres have since been disposed of by sales and grants. The remaining three millions of acres, comprising the finest lands in California, are the property of the United States. As much of it has been cultivated, or is capable of immediate adaptation for the planting of orchards, gardens and vineyards, the sale or disposal of it would seem to require different regulations from those which govern other portions of the public domain. The Mission buildings now are but wrecks of their former con- dition. The broken walls, deserted corrals, and roofless dwellings which surround them, are but melancholy evidences of their an- cient prosperity. Their character for wealth and hospitality has passed away with the rule of the padres and the vassalage of th Indians. They have had their day. They have fulfilled (and nobly, too, be it acknowledged) the purpose of their creation. I see no cause for lamenting, as many do, over then- downfall. The 186 ELDORADO. spirit of enterprise which has now taken firm root in the soil, wiB make thoir neglected gardens blossom again, and deck their waste fields with abundant harvests. A subject of more direct interest to the California emigrants, is that of the character and validity of the grants made to settlers previous to the acquisition of the country. The extravagant pitch to which land speculation has risen, and the uncertain tenure by which many of the best locations along the coast are held, render some official examination and adjustment very necessary. The amount of speculation which has already been done on an insecure basis, will give rise to endless litigation, when the proper tribunal shall have been established. Meanwhile, a brief account of tho character of the grants, derived partly from Capt. Halleck's ad- mirable Report on California Affairs and partly from an examina- tion of the grants themselves, may not be without its interest and uses. The first general decree for the granting of lands bears date of June, 1779, when Governor Neve, then established at Monterey, drew up a series of regulations, which were approved by the King of Spain, and for more than forty years remained in force, with little modification, throughout the territory. To each poblador (settler) was granted a bounty of $116 44 per annum for the first two years, and $60 per annum for the three following, with the loan of horses, cattle and farming utensils from the Government supplies. Settlers in pueblos, or towns, had likewise the privilege of pasturing their stock on the lands belonging to the town. Many of the minor regulations established in this decree of Gov. Neve, ar? sufficiently amusing. For instance, no poblador is allowed to sell any of his animals, until he shall possoss fifteen mares and onp stallion, fifteen cows and one bull, and so on, down to cocks and LAW FOR GRANTING LANDS. heus. He must then soil his xt: a stock to the Government, whicl of course pays its own price. These regulations, designed only for the first rude stage of colonization, were superseded by the decree of the Mexican Re public for the colonization of its Territories, dated Aug. 18, 1824, which was further limited and defined by a seiies of regulations, dated Xov. 21, 1828. Up to the time when California passed into the hands of the United States, no modifications were made to these acts, and they consequently remain in force. Their most important provisions are as follows : The Governor of the Territory is empowered to make granta of lands to contractors (for towns or colonies) and individuals or heads of families. Grants of the first-named class require the ap- proval of the Supreme Government to make them valid. For the latter the ratification of the Territorial Assembly is necessary; but in no case can the Governor make grants of any land lying within ten leagues of the sea-coast or within twenty leagues of the boundaries of any foreign power, without the previous ap- proval of the Supreme Government. The authorities of towns, however, are allowed to dispose of lands lying within the town limits, the proceeds to be paid into the municipal fund. The maximum extent of a single grant is fixed at one square league of irrigable land, four of temporal, or land where produce depends oc the seasons, and six of land for pasturing and rearing cattle eleven square leagues (about fifty thousand acresj in all. Th minimum extent is two hundred varas square (a vara is a littlfl less than a yard) of irrigable land, eight hundred of temporal, and twelve hundred of pasturage. The size of a house lot in any of the pueblos is fixed at one hundred varas. The irregular space* and patches lying between the boundaries of grants throughout i88 ELDORADO. the country are to be distributed among the colonists wl o occupj the adjoining land, or their children, preference being given to those who have distinguished themselves by their industry and moral deportment. All grants not made in accordance with these regulations, from the time of their adoption up to July 7, 1846, when the American flag was raised at Monterey and the Departmental Junta broken up, are not strictly valid, according to Mexican law. The re- strictions against lands within ten leagues of the sea-coast \\ere never removed. The only legal grant of such land, was that made to Captain Stephen Smith, of the port of Bodega, which received the approval of the Supreme Government. In the Macnamara Colonization Grant, made by Pio Pico, only four days before the occupation of Monterey by our forces, it is expressly stated that the consent of the Mexican Government is necessary to make it valid. Yet, in spite of this distinct provision, large tracts of this coast, from San Francisco to San Diego, were granted to citizens and colonists by Figueroa, Alvarado and other Governors. All these acts, having never received the sanction of the Supreme Government, would, by a literal construction of the lay oe null and void. The Supreme Government of Mexico always reserved to itself the right of using any portion of the coast, promontories, harbors or public land of the interior, for the purpose of meeting fiorts, arsenals or national storehouses. There are on file in the archives about five hundred and eighty grants, madu by various Governors between 1828 and 1846. Probably one hundred of these lack the full requirements of the Mexican law exclusive of those located on the sea-coast. Some we complete and satisfactory in all respects, to the signature of the Governor, but the concurrence of the Territorial \ssemblv ON CERTAIN BOUNDARIES OF GRANTS. 189 is wanting. In others the final concession is withheld for the pnr* pose of procuring further information. Others again, appear to have been neglected by the proper authorities, and a few, on fur- ther testimony, have been denied. As the owners of such lands, in many instances, are entirely unaware of the imperfect nature of their titles, many sales and transfers have been made in good faith, which will hereafter be invalidated. Some individuals have acted in a more reprehensible manner, by making sales of lands to which they had no legal claim. In settling the boundaries of grants, which are sound in every respect, there will nevertheless be some difficulty. Much of the land was never surveyed, the locality and character being rudelj sketched on paper by the petitioner, sometimes without any speci- fied extent, and sometimes with a guess at the quantity, which is often very wide of the mark. Such sketch, or topographical out- line is, I believe, required by law, and the collection embraced in the number of grants and applications on file, exhibits a most curious va- riety of attempts at drawing. In the absence of any further clue, it would be difficult to find many of the localities or anything in the least resembling them. The boundaries are frequently given as included within certain hills, arroyos, rivers and marshes, but the space so designated frequently contains double the amount of land asked for. On the lands throughout the country, known and recognized as belonging to the United States, a number of emigrants hav) established themselves, making choice of advantageous locations, and trusting to obtain possession by right of preeminence as set- tlers. Nearly all of the fords on the Sacramento and Sac Joaquin and their tributaries the springs and meadow lands at \ho bases of the mountains and all sites which seem calculated 190 ELDORADO for future towns or villages have been appropriated in like man ner. The discovery of gold has rendered any bounty unneces sary, to promote emigration. I endeavored to ascertain the exact extent of granted land in California, as well as the amount which will remain to the United States ; but owing to the indefinite character of many of the grants, and the absence of correct statistical information, was unable fully to succeed. The geographical limits within which the grants are embraced, are more easily traced. By referring to Fremont's Map of California, a line drawn from the mouth of Russian River, on the Pacific, north of Bodega, to the mouth of Rio Chico, a tributary of the Sacramento, and continued to the Sierra Nevada, would comprise the northern limit. From this line to the Oregon boundary a region two hundred and fifty miles in length by two hundred in breadth belongs to the public domain. The land about the mouths of the Sacramento and San Joaquin, with some tracts on the Rio Americano, Cosumne, Calaveras and Mariposa, is included in various grants, but the remainder of the settled land as you go southward, is upon the western side of the Coast Range, and all of it within ninety miles of the sea. The best agricultural districts those of Napa, San Jose and Los Angeles are already settled and cultivated, but the upper portion of the Sacramento country, the valleys of Trinity River and Russian River, and the lower slopes of the Sierra Ne- vada, embrace a great deal of arable land of excellent -quality The valleys of the Coast Range north of San Francisco Bay have been but partially explored. The entire gold district of the Sierra Nevada belongs to the United States, with the exception of Johnson's Ranche on Beai Creek, Sutter's possessions on the Rio Americano, a grant on th DISPOSITION OF THE GOLD LAND. 191 ( 'osumne, and Alvarado's Ranche on the Mariposa, now in posses- sion of Col. Fremont. Some anxiety is felt among the mining population, as to the disposition which the Government will make of these vast storehouses of wealth. The day before the adjourn tnent of the Convention, a resolution was offered, requesting Con- gress not to dispose of any part of the gold region, but to suffer it to remain free to all American citizens. It was defeated by a bare majority, but many of those voting nay, avowed themselves in favor of the spirit of the resolution, objecting to its adoption on the ground of propriety alone. The population, generally, is op- posed to the sale of gold land for the reason that it would proba- bly fall into the hands of speculators, to the disadvantage of the mining class. The lease of land would present the same objec- tions, besides being but an uncertain privilege. The fairest and most satisfactory course would be the imposition of a small per centage on the amount of gold actually dug or washed out by each individual or company. The miners would not object tc this j they only oppose any regulation which would give specuii tcra a chance to elbow them out of their ' bars' and ' pockets." CHAPTER XIX. RETURN TO SAN FRANCISCO AFTER the adjournment of the Convention, Monterey relapsed into its former quiet, and I soon began to feel the old impatience and longing for motion and change. The season was waning, and barely time enough remained for the accomplishment of my de- sign of a journey to the head of the Sacramento Valley. My friend, Lieut. Beale, with whom I had beguiled many an hour in tracing out plans for overland journeys and explorations, which should combine a spice of bold adventure with the acquisition of permanently useful knowledge, had left a week previous, in com- pany with Col. Fremont and his family. A heavy fog had for several days lain like a bar across the mouth of the bay, and we feared that the anxiously-awaited steamer from Panama would pass without touching. This was a question of interest, as there had been no mail from the Atlantic States for more than two months, and the general impatience on that account was painful to witness. Under these circumstances, I grew tired of looking on the fresh, sparkling, intense blue of the bay and the dewy- violet shadows of the mountains beyond it, and so one fine morn- ing thrust my few moveabhs into my knapsack and rolled up nrj arape for a start JOURNET IN AN AMBULANCE 193 I had a better reliance than my own feet, in making the jour- ney Mr. Semple, ex-President of the Convention, with his SOD and two of the ex- Clerks, were about leaving, and I was offered the means of conveyance as far as Pueblo San Jose. Mr. Semple wa barely recovering from a severe attack of typhoid fever, and was obliged to be conveyed in an army ambulance, which was furnished by Capt. Kane, of the Quartermaster's Department. We started at noon, under a hot, bright sun, though the entrance to the bay was still covered by the bar of dark fog. The steamer Unicorn was anxiously expected, and as a gun had been heard during the night, Gen. Riley ordered a shot to be fired .from the fort every half-hour, as a guide for the steamer, should she be outside. Had there been any certainty of her arrival, our haste to receive the long-delayed mail would have induced us to post pone the journey. We toiled through the desolate sand-hills to the Salinas River, and lanched again upon its broad, level plains. Our team con- sisted of four Californian horses, neither of which had ever been a week in harness, and consequently were not broken of the dashing gait to which they had been accustomed. The driver was an emigrant who arrived two months previous, by the Gila route, after suffering tho most terrible privations. We had all our pro- visions, blankets and camping utensils stowed in the ambulance, and as it was not large enough to contain our bodies likewise, two of the party followed in a light wagon. Under the steady gallop at which our fiery horses drew us, the blue ridges of the Sierra de Gavilan soon rose high and bleak before us, and the limbered shores of the plain came in sight. Our crossing of the arroyos would have startled even an Allcghany stage-driver. When one of these huge gullies yawned before us, there was no check of om VOL. I. 9 194 jiLDOKADU. speed. We dashed sheer off the brink at an angle of fifty de grees; there was a giddy sensation of tailing foi an instant, and in the next our heavy vehicle regained the level, carried half-way ap the opposite steep by the momentum of our descent. Tht excitement of such a plunge was delightful : the leaping of * 3tfe- arrcd gate on an English hunter would have been tame to it. On the skirt of the timber Mr. Semple pointed out the scene of a battle between the Californian and American troops, during the war. Foster, a scout belonging to the company of Emigrant Volunteers, while reconnoitering along the bases of the mountains, discovered a body of two hundred Californians on the plain. He immediately sent word to Burrows' company of Americans, then at the Mission San Juan, and in the meantime attacked them with the small force accompanying him. The fight was carried on among the trees. When the Americans sixty-six in all arrived on the field, they found Foster dead, with eleven wounds on his body. Four Americans and seven Californians were shot in the fight, which resulted in the defeat of the latter and their retreat up the plains to their post at the Mission of Soledad. Foster was buried where he fell, under a large oak, near the road. We entered the mountains, and encamped about dusk in a sheltered glen, watered by a little stream. Some benevolent pre- decessor had left us a good stock of wood, and in a short time the ruddy lights of our fire were dancing over the gnarled oak-boughs, nd their streamers of grey moss. I tried my hand, for the first time, at making coffee, while the others spitted pieces of meat on long twigs and thrust them into the blaze. My coffee was approved by the company, and the seasoning of the keen mountain air wa? net lost on our meal. The pipe of peace never omitted by the genuine trapper or mountaineer followed ; after which we spread NIGHT AND MORNING IN THE MOUNTAINS. 195 oar blankets on the ground and looked at the stars through the chinks of the boughs, till we dropped asleep. There is no rest w sweet as that taken on the hard bosom of Mother Earth. I s^ept soundly in our spacious bed-chamber, undisturbed even by the son- tinned barking whine of the coyotes. The cool, spaikling 4awa called us up betimes, to rekindle the fire and resume cooking. When the sun made his appearance above the hills, our driver said : " There comes old Hannah, to open the shutters of our house and let in the light" the most ludicrous combination of scullionish and poetical ideas it was ever my lot to hear. I must acknowledge, however, that " Old Hannah" did her office well, giving our nouse the most cheery illumination. As we wound through the lonely passes of the mountains, Mr. Semple pointed out many spots where he had hidden on his night- rides as messenger between San Francisco and Monterey during the war. From some of the heights we looked down valleys that stretched away towards Santa Cruz, and could discern the dark lines of redwood timber along their border. The forest near the Mission contains the largest specimens of this tree to be found in California, some of the trunks, as I was credibly informed, mea- suring fifteen feet in diameter. Captain Graham, an old settler, had five saw-mills in operation, which he leased to speculators at the rate of fifty dollars per day for each. The timber is soft and easily worked, susceptible of a fine polish, and when kept dry, as m the interior of buildings, will last for centuries. Midway down one of the long descents, we met Messrs. Marcy and Tefft, who had been to San Francisco to attend to the printing if the Constitution, bundles of which, in English and Spanish, were strapped to their saddles. Our next incident was the dis- covery of three grizzly bears, on the side of a Canada, about 196 ELDORADO. quarter of a mile distant. Mr. Semple, who, with the keen sight of one accustomed to mountain life, was on the alert for game, first espied them. They were moving lazily among a cluster of oaks; their bodies were, apparently, as large as that of a mule, but an dxperienced eye could at once detect the greater thickness and shortness of their legs. We had no other arms than pistols and knives, and no horses of sufficient fleetness to have ventured an attack with safety ; so we passed on with many a wistful and lin- gering look, for the gray hide of one of those huge beasts would have been a trophy well worth the capture. Indeed, the oldest hunter, when he meets a grizzly bear, prefers making a boy's bar gain " If you'll let me alone, I'll let you alone." They are rarely known to attack a man when unprovoked, but when wounded no Indian tiger is more formidable. Towards noon we reached the Mission San Juan. The bands of emigrants from the South had stripped all the fruit-trees hi ite gardens, but at a tienda in the Mission building, we were supplied with pears at the rate of three for a real plump, luscious fruit, with russet peel, and so mellow that they would scarcely bear handling. While we were idling an hour in the warm corridor, trying to maintain a conversation in Spanish with some of the na- tives, a brother of Mr. Semple, who had come from Benicia to meet him, rode up to the inn. He had a gray horse, whose trot was remarkably rough, and at his request I changed places, giving ap to him my seat in the ambulance. We dashed out on the plain of San Juan at a full gallop, but my perverse annual soon lagged behind. He was what is called a " Snake horse," of the breed owned by the Snake Indians in Oregon, whence, hi fact, he had been brought, still retaining the steady, deliberate pace at which he had been accustomed to haul lodge-poles. His trot wag rack FORDING 1HE PAJARO RIVER. 197 ing, and as a final resort to procure a gallop, I borrowed a pair of very sharp spurs from our driver. At the first touch the old Snake started ; at the second he laid his ears flatly back, gave a snort and sprang forward with galvanic energy, taking me far in advanw of the flying ambulance. It was so long since he had traveled uch a pace that he seemed as much astonished as I was at the affect of my spurs. The ambulance at last reached the Pajaro River, which flowed between deep and precipitous banks. The four horses plunge* down the declivity ; the ambulance followed with a terrible shock which urged it into the middle of the stream, where it stuck, tht king-bolt having been snapped off. We partly stripped, and aftei working an hour with the ice-cold water above our knees, succeeded in fastening with chains the fragment of the bolt. It was now dinner-time, and we soon had a blaze among the willows and a pot of coffee boiling before it. The beverage, which never tasted more refreshing, sent a fine glow into our benumbed nether limbs, and put us into traveling humor again. The Pajaro Plains, around the head of the river, are finely watered, and under proper culti- vation would produce splendid crops. From the ridge descending to the valley of San Jose we overlooked their broad expanse. The meadows were still green, and the belts of stately sycamore had not yet shed a leaf. I hailed the beautiful valley with pleasure, although its soil was more parched and arid than when I passed before, and the wild oats on the mountains rolled no longer in waves of gold. Their sides were brown and naked to desolation ; the dead umber color of the landscape, towards sunset, was mora cheerless than a mid-November storm. A traveler seeing Cali- fornia only at this season, would never be tempted to settle. As we journeyed down the valley, flocks of wild geese and 198 ELDORADO. brant, cleaving the air with their arrow-shaped lines, descended tc their roost in the meadows. On then- favorite grounds, near the head of Pajaro Eiver, they congregated to the number of millions, hundreds of acres being in many places actually hidden under their dense ranks. They form in columns as they alight, and their stations at roost are as regularly arranged as in any military camp. As the season advances and their number is increased by new arrivals, they become so regardless of human presence that the rancheros kill large quantities with clubs. The Dative children have a curious method of entrapping them while i/a the wing. They tie two bones at the ends of a string about a yard in length, which they hurl into the air so skilfully that in falling it forms an arch. As the geese fly low, this instrument, dropping into a flock, generally takes one of them across the neck ; the bones fall on each side and drag the goose to the earth, where he is at once seized and dispatched. We passed Murphy's Kanche and the splendid peak of El Toro and reached Fisher's Ranche as the blaze of camp-fires under the sycamores was beginning to show through the dusk. Here we found Major Hill, who, with Mr. Durivage and Midshipman Games, with six men from the wreck of the propeller Edith, had left Monterey the day before ourselves. Their fire was kindled, the cooking implements in order, and several of the party em- Cloyed in the task of picking three wild geese and preparing then: for the pan. While at supper, one of Capt. Fisher's men excited the sporting propensities of some of our* party by describing a lake in the valley, where the geese roosted in immense quantities As it was not more than a mile distant, muskets were got rea n 216 ELDORADO. We passed a small sail-boat, bound for Sacramento and filled with emigrants Half of them were employed in bailing ont th cud thrown over the gunwale by every surge. We shot by them like a flash, and came in sight of Benicia, once thought to be a rival to San Francisco. In a glen on the opposite shore is the Little town of Martinez. Benicia is a very pretty place ; the situa- tion is well chosen, the land gradually sloping back from the watei j with ample space for the spread of the town. The anchor-- age is excellent, vessels of the largest size being able to lie so near shore as to land goods without lightering. The back country, including the Napa and Sonoma valleys, is one of the finest agri- cultural districts of California. Notwithstanding these advan tages, Benicia must always remain inferior, in commercial im- portance, both to San Francisco and Sacramento City. While in the country, I was much amused in reading the letters respecting it, which had been sent home and published, many of them pre- dicting the speedy downfall of San Francisco, on account of the superior advantages of the former place. On the strength of these letters vessels had actually cleared for Benicia, with large cargoes. Now, anchorage is one thing, and a good market another ; a ship may lie in greater safety at Albany, but the sen- Bible merchant charters his vessel for New York. San Francisco is marked by Nature and Fate (though many will disagree with me in the first half of the assertion) for the great commercial marl of the Pacific, and whatever advantages she may lack will soon be amply provided for by her wealth and enterprise. Benicia very properly, as I think has been made the Naval and Military Station for the Bay. Gen. Smith and Commodore Jones both have their head quarters there. The General's house ind the military barracks are built on a headland at the entranw NEW-TOKi-OF-THE-PACIFIC. 217 of Suisun Bay a breezy and healthy situation. Monte Diablo, the giant of the Coast Range, rises high and blue on the other ride of the strait, and away beyond the waters of the Bay, beyond the waste marshes of tule and the broad grazing plains, and above tk ? low outlines of many an intermediate chain, loom up faint and far and silvery, the snows of the Sierra Nevada. We came-to off New-York-of-the-Pacific in four hours aftej leaving San Francisco a distance of fifty miles. The former place, with its aspiring but most awkward name, is located on a level plain, on the southern shore of Suisun Bay, backed by a range of barren mountains. It consists of three houses, one of which is a three-story one, and several vessels at anchor near the shore. The anchorage is good, and were it not for the mosquitos, the crews might live pleasantly enough, in their seclusion. There never will be a large town there, for the simple reason that there is no possible cause why there should be one. Stockton and Sacramento City supply the mines, San Francisco takes the com merce, Benicia the agricultural produce, with a fair share of the bland trade, and this Gotham-of-the-West, I fear, must continup to belie its title. We anchored, waiting for the steamer Sacramento, which wad to meet the schooner and receive her passengers. She came along side after dark, but owing to the violence of the rain, did not leave until midnight. She was a small, light craft, not more than sixty feet in length, and had been shipped to San Francisco around Cape Horn. She was at first employed to run between Sacra- mento City and San Francisco, but proved insufficient to weather the rough seas of the open Bay. The arrival of the steamer McKim, which is a good sea-boat and therefore adapted to the navigation of the Bay, where the waves are little less violent than VOL. i. 10 218 ELDORADO. in the Pacific, drove her from the route, but she still continued to run on the Sacramento River. Many small steamers, of similar frail construction, were sent around the Horn, the specu- lators imagining they were the very thing for inland navigation The engine of the Sacramento was on deck, as also was her del of a cabin a filthy place, about six feet by eight. A few berths, made of two coarse blankets laid on a plank, were to be had ai $5 each ; but I preferred taking a camp-stool, throwing my sarape over my shoulders and sleeping with my head on the table, rather than pay such an unchristian price. As the day dawned, gloomy and wet, I went on deck. We wert near the head of " The Slough," a broad navigable cut-off, which saves twenty miles in making the trip. The banks are lined with thickets, behind which extends a narrow belt of timber, princi- pally oak and sycamore. Here and there, in cleared spots, were the cabins of the woodmen, or of squatters, who intend claiming preemption rights. The wood, which brings $12 or $15 a cord, ts piled on the bluff banks, and the steamers back up to it, whenever they are obliged to " wood up." At the junction of the slough with the river proper, there is a small village of IndiaD huts, built of dry tule reeds. The Sacramento is a beautiful stream. Its width varies from two to three hundred yards, and its banks fringed with rich foliage, present, by their continuous windings, a fine succession of views. In appearance, it reminded me somewhat of the Delaware. Tta foliage, washed by the rain, glistened green and freshly in the morning ; and as we advanced the distant mountains on either hand were occasionally visible through gaps in the timber. Be fore reaching the town of Sutter, we passed a ranche, the produce of which, in vegetables alone, was said to have returned the owaei VIEW OF SACRAMENTO ClfV -a German, by the name of Schwartz $25,000 during the sea- son. Sutter is a town of some thirty houses, scattered along th* bank for half a mile. Three miles above this we came in right o of Sacramento City. The forest of masts along the embarcaderr more than rivalled the splendid growth of the soil. Boughs and spars were mingled together in striking contrast ; the cables were fastened to the trunks and sinewy roots of the trees ; sign-boardi and figure-heads were set up on shore, facing the levee, and galleys *nd deck-cabins were turned out " to grass," leased as shops, or occupied as dwellings. The aspect of the place, on landing, was decidedly more novel and picturesque than that of any other town m the country. The plan of Sacramento City is very simple. Situated on the eastern bank of the Sacramento, at its junction with the Rio A.mericano, the town plot embraces a square of about one and a-half miles to a side. It is laid out in regular right-angles, in Philadelphia style, those running east and west named after the alphabet, and those north and south after the arithmetic. The limits of the town extended to nearly one square mile, and the number of inhabitants, in tents and houses, fell little short of ten thousand. The previous April there were just four houses in the place ! Can the world match a growth like this ? The original forest-trees, standing in all parts of the town, give it a very picturesque appearance. Many of the streets are lined with oaks and sycamores, six feet in diameter, and spreading ample boughs on every side. The emigrants have ruined th finest of them by building camp-fires at their bases, which, in some instances, have burned completely through, leaving a charred and blackened arch for the superb tree to rest upon. The storm which occurred a few days previous tc my visit, snapped asunder &6 ELDORADO. several trunks which had been thus weakened, one of them crush- ing to the earth a canvas house in which a man lay asleep. A heavy bough struck the ground on each side of him, saving hi life. The destruction of these trees is the more to be regretted, s the intense heat of the Summer days, when the mercury stands %t 120, renders their shade a thing of absolute necessity. The value of real estate in Sacramento City is only exceeded bj that of San Francisco. Lots twenty by seventy-five feet, in the best locations, brought from $3,000 to $3,500. Rents were on a scale equally enormous. The City Hotel, which was formerly a saw-mill, erected by Capt. Sutter, paid $30,000 per annum. A new hotel, going up on the levee, had been already rented at $35,000. Two drinking and gaming-rooms, on a business street, paid each $1,000, monthly, invariably in advance. Many of the stores transacted business averaging from $1,000 to $3,000 daily Board was $20 per week at the restaurants and $5 per day at the City Hotel. But what is the use of repeating figures ? Thes- dead statistics convey no idea of the marvellous state of things ii the place. It was difficult enough for those who saw to believe, and I can only hope to reproduce the very faintest impression ol the pictures 1 there beheld. It was frequently wondered, on this side of the Rocky Mountains, why the gold dust was not sent out of the country in larger quantities, when at least forjy thousand men were turning up the placers. The fact is, it was required as currency, and the amount in circulation might be counted by mil- lions. Why, the building up of a single street in Sacramento City ( J street) cost half a million, at least ! The value of all the houses in the city, frail and perishing as many of them were, oonld not have been less than $2,000,000. It must be acknowledged there is another side to the picture ITS LIFE AND BUSINESS. 32] 1 hree-fourths ot ;!:e people who settle in Sacramento Citj are visited by agues diarrhoeas and other reducing complaints. In Summer the plaje is a furnace, in Winter little better than a swamp ; and the influx of emigrants and discouraged miners gene- rally exceeds the demand for labor. A healthy, sensible, wide- awake man, however, cannot fail to prosper. In a country where Labor rules everything, no sound man has a right to complain When carpenters make a strike because they only get twdve dot lars a day, one may be sure there is room enough for industry and enterprise of all kinds. The city was peopled principally by New-Yorkers, Jerseymen and people from the Western States. In activity and public spirit, it was nothing behind San Francisco ; its growth, indeed, in view of the difference of location, was more remarkable. The inhabitants had elected a Town Council, adopted a City Chartei apd were making exertions to have the place declared a port of entry The political waters were being stirred a little, in antici pation of the approaching election. Mr. Gilbert, of the Alta California, and Col. Steuart, candidate for Governor, were in the city. A political meeting, which had been held a few nights before, in front of the City Hotel, passed off as uproariously and with as eealous a sentiment of patriotism as such meetings are wont to exhibit at home. Among the residents whom I met during my visit, was Gen. Green, of Texas, known as commander of the Mier Expedition. The city already boasted a weekly paper, the Plactr Twin, which was edited and published by Mr. Giles, formerly of the Tribune Office. His printers were all old friends of mine one of them, in fact, a former fellow-apprentice and from the fraternal feeling that all possess who have ever belonged to the craft, the ELDORADO place became at once familiar and home-like The little paper which had a page of about twelve by eighteen inches, had a circu- lation of five hundred copies, at $12 a year ; the amount received weekly for jobs and advertising, varied from $1,000 to $2,000. Tickets were printed for the different political candidates, at the rate of $20 for every thousand. The compositors were paid $15 daily. Another compositor from the Tribune Office had estab- lished a restaurant, and was doing a fine business. His dining Baloon was an open tent, unfloored ; the tables were plank, with rough benches on each side ; the waiters rude Western boys who aad come over the Rocky Mountains but the meals he furnished eould not have been surpassed hi any part of the world for sub- stantial richness of quality. There was every day abundance of jlk steaks, unsurpassed for sweet and delicate flavor ; venison, iphich had been fattened on the mountain acorns ; mutton, such as nothing but the wild pastures of California could produce ; salmon and salmon-trout of astonishing size, from the Sacramento River, and now and then the solid flesh of the grizzly bear. The salmon- trout exceeded in fatness any fresh-water fish I ever saw ; they were between two and three feet hi length, with a layer of pure fat, quarter of an inch in thickness, over the ribs. When made into chowder or stewed in claret, they would have thrown into ec- stacies the most inveterate Parisian gourmand. The full-moon face of the proprietor of the restaurant was accounted for, when ont had tasted his fare ; after living there a few days, I could feel my own dimensions sensibly enlarged. The road to Sutter's Fort, the main streets and the levee front- ing on the Embarcadero, were constantly thronged with the teams of emigrants, coming in from the mountains. Such worn, weather- beaten individuals I never before imagined. Their tente wer CATTLE OF EXPERIENCE. 223 pitched by hundreds in the thickets around the town, where they rested a few days before starting to winter in the mines and tlse- where At times the levee was filled throughout its whole length Ly their teams, three or four yoke of oxen to every wagon. The beasts had an expression of patient experience which plainly showed that no roads yet to be traveled would astonish them in the least. After tugging the wagons for six months over the salt deserts of the Great Basin, climbing passes and canons of terrible asperity in the Sierra Nevada, and learning to digest oak bark on the arid plains around the sink of Humboldt's River, it seemed as if no extremity could henceforth intimidate them. Much toil and suf- fering had given to their countenances a look of almost human sfisdom. If their souls should hereafter, according to the theory of some modern philosophers, reappear in human frames, what a crowd of grave and reverend sages may not California be able to produce ! The cows had been yoked in with the oxen and made to do equal duty. The women who had come by the overland route appeared to have stood the hardships of the journey remark- ably well, and were not half so loud as the men in their complaints The amount of gambling in Sacramento City was very great, and the enticement of music was employed even to a greater ex- tent than in San Francisco. All kinds of instruments and tunes made night discordant, for which harrowing service the performers were paid an ounce each. Among the many drinking houses, there was one called " The Plains," which was much frequented by the emigrants. Some western artist, who came across the country, adorned its walls with scenic illustrations of the route, such as Independence Rock, The Sweetr-Water Valley, Fort Lara- mie, Wind River Mountains, etc. There was one of a pass in the Bierra Nevada, on the Carson River route. A wagon and team 224 ELDORADO. were represented as coming down the side of a hill so nearly per pendicular that it seemed no earthly power could prevent then from making but a single fall from the summit to the valley These particular oxen, however, were happily independent of gravi- tation, and whisked their tails in the face of the zenith, as they marched slowly down. I was indebted for quarters in Sacramento City, to Mr. Da draw, who was installed in a frame house, copper-roofed, fronting the levee. I slept very comfortably on a pile of Chinese quilts, behind the counter, lulled by the dashing of the rain against the sides of the house. The rainy season had set in, to all appear- ances, though it was full a month before the usual time. The sky was bleak and gray, and the wind blew steadily from the south, an unfailing sign to the old residents. The saying of the Mexicans seemed to be verified, that, wherever los Yankis go, they take rain with them. It was therefore the more necessary that I should start at once for the mountains. In a few weeks the roads would be impassa- ble, and my only chance of seeing the northern rivers be cut off The first requisite for the journey was a good horse, to procure which I first attended the horse-market which was daily held to- wards the bottom of K street. This was one of the principal sights in the place, and as picturesque a thing as could be seen anywhere. The trees were here thicker and of larger growth than in other parts of the city ; the market-ground in the middle of the street was shaded by an immense evergreen oak, and surrounded by tents of blue and white canvas. One side was flanked by a livery-stable an open frame of poles, roofed with dry tule, in which stood a few shivering mules and raw-boned horses, while the stacks of hay and wheat straw, on the open lots in the vicinity SIGHTS AT THE HORSE MARKET 22t jffered fc ;d to the buyers of animals, at the rate of $3 daily foi each head. When the market was in full blast, the scene it presented wag grotesque enough. There were no regulations other than the fancy of those who had animals to sell ; every man was his own auctioneer, and showed off the points of his horses or mules. The ground was usually occupied by several persons at once, a rough tawny-faced, long-bearded Missourian, with a couple of pack mules which had been starved in the Great Basin ; a quondam New York dandy with a horse whose back he had ruined in his luckless " prospecting" among the mountains ; a hard-fisted far- mer with the wagon and ox-team which had brought his family and household gods across the continent ; or, perhaps, a jock} trader, who understood all the arts of depreciation and recom- mendation, and invariably sold an animal for much more than he gave. The bids were slow, and the seller would sometimes hang for half an hour without an advance ; in fact, where three or four were up at once, it required close attention in the buyer to know which way the competition was running. I saw a lean sorrel mule sold for $55 ; several others, of that glossy black color and clean make which denote spirit and endu- rance, were held at $140, the owner refusing to let them go for less. The owner of a bay horse, which he rode up and down the market at a brisk pace, could get no bid above $45. As the ani- mal was well made and in good condition, I was about to bid, when I noticed a peculiar glare of the eye which betrayed suffer ing of some kind " What kind of a back has he ?" I inquired " It is a very little scratched on the top," was the answer ; " bul he is none the worse for that." " He'll not do for me," I thought, but 1 watched the other bidders to see how the buyer would be 10* 226 ELDORADO. satisfied with his purchase. The horse was finally knocked off ai $50 : as the saddle was not included the new owner removed it disclosing a horriole patch of raw and shrinking flesh. An alter- cation instantly arose, which was not settled when I left to seek t horse elsewhere. The owner of a stack of hay near at hand desired to sell me a mule out of a number which he had in charge. But one which he recommended as a fine saddle-mule would not go at all, though he wounded her mouth with the cruel hit of the country in the effort to force her into a trot ; another, which was declared to he remarkably gentle, stumbled and fell with me, and a third, which seemed to be really a good traveler, was held at a price I did no* desire to pay. At last, the proprietor of a sort of tavern adjoin ng the market, offered to sell me a gray mare for $100. Now, aa the gray mare is said to be the better horse, and as, on trial, 1 'ound her to possess a steady and easy gait, though a little lazy, I letermined to take her, since, among so many worn-out and used- ip animals, it seemed a matter of mere luck whether I would have selected a good one. The mare was American, but the owner assured me she had been long enough in the country, to travel unshod and keep fat on dry grass. As saddles, blankets, and other articles were still necessary, my outfit was rather expensive. I pro- cured a tolerable saddle and bridle for $10 ; a lariat and saddle- blanket for $5 ; a pair of sharp Mexican spurs for $8, and blankets for $12. With a hunting-knife, a pair of pistols in my pocket, a coin pass, thermometer, note-book and pencil, I was prepared for ft tour of any length among the mountains. CHAPTER XXIL TRAVELING ON THE PLAINS. I \i AITED another day for the rain to subside, but the wind ptifl blew up the river and the sky remained hopelessly murk and lowering. I therefore buttoned up my corduroy coat, thrust my head through the centre of my sarape, and set out in the teeth of the gale. Leaving the muddy streets, swamped tents and shiver- ing population of Sacramento City, a ride of a mile and a half brought me to Sutler's Fort, built on a slight rise in the plain. It is a large quadrangular structure, with thick adobe walls, and square bastions at each corner. Everything about it showed signs of dilapidation and decay. The corrals of earth had been trampled down ; doors and gateways were broken through the walls, and all kinds of building materials carried away. A two story wooden building, with flag-staff bearing the American colors, stood in the centre of the court-yard, and low ranges of buildings around the Bides were variously occupied as hospitals, stores, drinking and gaming shops and dwellings. The hospital, under the charge of Drs Deal and Martin, was said to be the best regulated in the district. It was at the time filled with fever patients, who re- ceived nursing and medical attendance for $100 per week. Behind tke fort, at the distance of quarter of a mile, flow* th 28 ELDORADO. Rio Americano, with several fine grazing ranches on its bank* The view on all sides is over a level plain, streaked with lines of timber, and bounded on the east and west, in clear weather, by the distant ranges of the Coast Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. Three or four houses have sprung up on the low ground in front of the fort during the summer. Riding up to a large unfinished frame building to make inquiries about the road, I was answered by a man whom I afterwards learned was the notorious Keysburg the same who came out with the emigration of 1846, and lived a]] winter among the mountains on the dead bodies of his companions He was of a stout, large frame, with an exceedingly coarse, sen- sual expression of countenance, and even had I not heard his revolting history, I should have marked his as a wholly animal face. It remains in my memory now like that of an ogre, and 3 only remember it with a shudder. One of those who went out to the Camp of Death, after the snows were melted, described to me the horrid circumstances under which they found him seated like a ghoul, in the midst of dead bodies, with his face and hands smeared with blood, and a kettle of human flesh boiling over the fire. He had become a creature too foul and devilish for this sarth, and the forbearance with which the men whose children ha had devoured while they were toiling back to his succor through almost fathomless snows, refrained from putting him to death, is to be wondered at. He had not the plea of necessity in the use of this revolting food ; for the body of an ox, wnich had been thawed out of the snow, was found untouched near his cabin lie spoke with a sort of fiendish satisfaction, of the meals he had made, and the men were obliged to irag him awaj from them by main force, not without the terrible convic- tion that some of the victims had been put to a violent death NIGHT, RAIN AND A RANCHE. 229 to glut his appetite There is no creation in the whole lange of fiction, so dark and awful in its character, as this man. After passing the first belt of timber, I was alone on the plains which looked strikingly bleak and desolate under the daik and rainy sky. The road was filled with pools of mud and water, by which, when night came down on the changeless waste, I waa enabled to find my way. The rain set in again, adding greatly to the discomfort of feuch travel. My gray mare, too, lagged more than I liked, and I began to calculate my chances of remaining all night on the plain. About two hours after dark, however, a faint light glimmered in the distance, and I finally reached the place of my destination Murphy's Ranche on the Cosumne River. An Indian boy tied my horse to a haystack, and Mrs. Murphy set about baking some biscuit in a pan, and roasting a piece of beef for me on a wooden spit. A company of gold-dig- gers, on their way from the Yuba to winter on the Mariposa, had possession of one end of the house, where they lay rolled in their blankets, their forms barely discernible through the smoke sent out by the rain-soaked wood of which their fire was made. T talked an hour with them about the prospects of mining on the different rivers, and then lay down to sleep on the clay floor. The next morning the sky was as thick, heavy and gray as a Mackinaw blanket, with a precocious drizzle, betokening a storm. Nevertheless, I saddled and started for Hick's Ranche, a day's journey distant, in the edge of the mountains. I forded the Cosumne River, (almost universally pronounced Mokosumt,} at this place a clear, swift stream, bordered by dense thickets. It was already up to my saddle-skirts, and rapidly rising. Two or three tule huts stood on the opposite bank, and a number of dirty, tfupid Indian faces stared at me through the apertures. Taking 230 ELDORADO. a dim wagon-trail, according to directions, I struck out once more on the open plains. The travel was very toilsome, my horse'f feet sinking deeply into the wet, soft soil. The furthei 1 .veni the worse it became After making five miles, I reache J tome scattering oak timber, where I was forced to take shelter from the rain, which now beat down dreuchingly. Cold and wet, I waited two hours in that dismal solitude for the flood to cease, and taking advantage of the first lull, turned about and rode back to the ranchc. All that night it rained hard, and the second morning opened with a prospect more dreary than ever. My companions in that adobe limbo were the miners, who had been spending the Summer on the upper bars of the Yuba. Ac- cording to their accounts, the average yield of the Yuba diggings was near two ounces for each man. Those who had taken out claims of eight paces square in the beginning of the season, fre- quently made $10,000 and upwards. Owing to the severity of the Winter in that region, the greater portion o the miners were moving southward until the Spring. Several companies came up in the course of the day, but as the ranche was full, they were constrained to pitch their tents along the banks of the swollen Cosumne. Mr. Murphy, I found, was the son of the old gentleman whose hospitalities I had shared in the valley of San Jose. Hr had been living three years on the river, and his three sturdy young sons could ride and throw the lariat equal to any Californian. There were two or three Indian boys belonging to the house, one of whom, a solid, shock-headed urchin, as grave as if he was born to be a " medicine-man," did all the household duties with great precision and steadiness. He was called " Billy," and thougb he understood English as well as his own language, I never heard nim speak. My only relief, during the wearisome detention, was THE NEVADA AT SUNSET. 23 \ in watching his deliberate motions, and wondering what thought^ or whether any thoughts stirred under his immoveable face. The afternoon of the second day the clouds lifted, and we saw the entire line of the Sierra Nevada, white and cold against the background of the receding storm. As the sun broke forth, near its setting, peak after peak became visible, far away to north and south, till the' ridge of eternal snow was unbroken for at least % hundred and fifty miles. The peaks around the head-waters of the American Fork, highest of all, were directly in front. The pure white of their sides became gradually imbued with a rosy flame, and their cones and pinnacles burned like points of fire. In the last glow of the sun, long after it had set to us, the splendor oJ the whole range, deepening from gold to rose, from rose to crim son, and fading at last into an ashy violet, surpassed even the famous " Alp-glow," as I have seen it from the plains of Pied- mont. An old hunter living on the ranche came galloping up, with a fat, black-tailed doe at the end of his lariat. He had first broken the hind leg of the poor beast with a ball, and then caught hei running. The pleading expression of her large black eyes wag almost human, but her captor coolly drew his knife across her throat, and left her to bleed to death. She lay on the ground, uttering a piteous bleat as her panting became thick and difficult, but not until the last agony was wholly over, did the dull film steal fccross the beauty of her lustrous eyes. On the third morning I succeeded in leaving the ranche, where I had been very hospitably entertained at four dollars a day for myself and horse. The Cosumne was very much swollen by the rains, but my gray mare swain bravely, and took me across with but a slight wetting. I passed my previous halting-place, and was 232 ELDORADO. advancing with difficulty through the mud of the plains, when, on climbing a small " rise," I suddenly found myself confronted b^ four grizzly bears two of them half-grown cubs who had post ts- sion of a grassy bottom on the other side. They were not more than two hundred yards distant. I halted and looked at them, and they at me, and I must say they seemed the most unconcerned of the two parties. My pistols would kill nothing bigger than a coyote, and they could easily have outrun my horse ; so I went my way, keeping an eye on the most convenient tree. In case of an attack, the choice of a place of refuge would have been a deli- cate matter, since the bears can climb up a large tree and gnaw down a small one. It required some skill, therefore, in selecting i trunk of proper size. At Murphy's, the night previous, they told me there had been plenty of " bear-sign" along the river, and in the " pockets" of solid ground among the tule. As the rainy season sets in they always come down from the mountains. After traveling eight or ten miles the wagon trails began to scatter, and with my imperfect knowledge of prairie hieroglyphics, ( was soon at fault. The sky was by this time clear and bright ; and rather than puzzle myself with wheel-tracks leading every- where, and cattle-tracks leading nowhere, I guessed at the location of the ranche to which I was bound and took a bee-line towards it. Tho knowledge of tracks and marks is a very important part of the education of a woodsman. It is only obtained by unlearning ( or forgetting for the time, all one's civilized acquirements and re- calling the original instincts of the animal. An observing man, fresh from the city, might with some study determine the character of a track, but it is the habit of observing them rather than the discriminating faculty, which enables the genuine hunter to peruse the earth like a volume, and confidently pronounce on the number PRAIRIE AND WOOD CRAFT. 23S ind character of all the animals and men that have lately passed ever its surface. Where an inexperienced eye could discern no mark, he will note a hundred trails, and follow any particular one through the maze, with a faculty of sight as unerring as the power of scent in a dog. I was necessitated, during my journey in the interior of California, to pay some attention to this craft, but J never got beyond the rudiments. Another necessary faculty, as I had constant occasion to notice. is that of observing and remembering the form, color and character of animals. This may seem a simple thing ; but let any one, at the close of a ride in the country, endeavor to describe all the horses, mules and oxen he has seen, and he will find himself at fault. A Californian will remember and give a particular description of a hundred animals, which he has passed in a day's journey, and be able to recognize and identify any one of them. Horses and mules are to him what men, newspapers, books and machinery are to us : they are the only science he need know or learn. The habit of noticing them is easily acquired, and is extremely useful in a country where there are neither pounds nor fences. The heavy canopy of clouds was lifted from the plain almost as suddenly as the cover from a mast turkey at a hotel dinner, when the head waiter has given the wink. The snows of the Nevada shone white along the clear horizon ; I could see for many a league on every side, but I was alone on the broad, warm landscape. Orer wastes of loose, gravelly soil, into which my horse sank above the fetlocks across barren ridges, alternating with marshy hollows Mid pools of water, I toiled for hours, and near sunset reached the first low, timbered hills on the margin of the plain. I dismounted and led my weary horse for a mile or two, but as it grew dark was obliged to halt in a little glen a most bear-ish looking place 234 ELDORADO. filled with thick chapparal. A fallen tree supplied me with fuel to hand, and I soon had a glowing fire, beside which I spread mj blankets and lay down. Getting up at midnight to threw on mor logs, I found my horse gone, and searched the chapparal for an hour, wondering how I should fare, trudging along on foot, with the saddle on my shonlders. At last I found her in a distant part of the wood, with the lariat wound around a tree. After this I slept no more, but lay gazing on the flickering camp-fire, and her gray figure as she moved about in the dusk. Towards dawn the tinkle of a distant mule-bell and afterwards the crowing of a cock gave me welcome signs of near habitation ; and, saddling with the first streak of light, I pushed on, still in the same direction, through a thick patch of thorny chapparal, and finally reached the brow oi a wooded ridge just as the sun was rising. Oh, the cool, fresh beauty of that morning ! The sky was deliciously pure and soft, and the tips of the pines on the hills were kindled with a rosy flame from the new-risen sun. Below me lay a beautiful valley, across which ran a line of timber, be- traying, by its luxuriance, the water-course it shaded. The reaches of meadow between were green and sparkling with dew ; here and there, among the luxuriant foliage, peeped the white top of a tent, or rose the pale-blue threads of smoke from freshly- kindled camp-fires. Cattle were grazing in places, and the tinkle of the bell I had heard sounded a blithe welcome from one of the groups. Beyond the tents, in the skirts of a splendid clump of trees stood the very ranche to which I was bound. I rode up and asked for breakfast. My twenty-four hours fas* was broken by a huge slice of roast venison, and coffee sweettned with black Mexican sugar, which smacks not only of the juice of the "ane, but of the leaves, joints, roots, and even the unctuonf AMONG THE HILLS. 23ft Mil in which it grows. For this I paid a dollar and a half, but no money could procure any feed for my famishing horse. Leaving the ranche, which is owned by a settler named Hicks, my road led along the left bank of Suiter's Creek for two miles, after which it struck into the mountains. Here and there, in the gulches, 1 noticed signs of the gold-hunters, but their prospecting did not appear to have been successful. The timber was principally pine and oak, and of the smaller growths, the red-barked madrono and a species of eseulus, with a fruit much larger than our Western buckeye. The hills are steep, broken and with little apparent system. A close observation, however, shows them to have a gradual increase of elevation, to a certain point, beyond which they fall again. As in the sea the motion of the long swells is seen through all the small waves of the surface, so this broken region shows a succession of parallel ridges, regularly increasing in height till they reach the Sierra Nevada the " tenth wave," with the white foam on its crest. About noon, I came down again upon Sutter's Creek in a little valley, settled by miners. A number of tents were pitched along the stream, and some log houses for the winter were in process of erection. The diggings in the valley were quite profitable during the dry season, especially in a canon above. At the time I passed, the miners were making from half an ounce to an ounce per day. I procured a very good dinner at Humphrey's tent, and attempted to feed my famishing gray with Indian meal at half a dollar the pound ; but, starving as she was, she refused to eat it. Her pao tad by this time dwindled to a very slow walk, and I could not find it in my heart to use the spur. Leaving the place immedi- ately after dinner, I crossed a broad mountain, and descended tc Jackson's Creek, where a still greater number of miners were 236 ELDORADO. congregated. Not the Creek only, but all the ravines in the mountains around, furnished ground for their winter laboi-s A little knoll in the valley, above the reach of floods, was tutirel} covered with their white tents. The hotel tent was kept by an Oregonian named Cosgrove, and there was in addition a French restaurant. From Jackson's Creek I took a footpath to the Mokelumne. After scaling the divide, I went down into a deep, wild ravine, where the path, notched along its almost perpendicular sides, threatened to give way beneath my horse's feet. Further down, the bottom was completely turned over by miners, a number of whom were building their log cabins. The rains had brought at last a constant supply of water, and pans and cradles were in full operation among the gravel ; the miners were nearly all French men, and appeared to be doing well. The ravine finally debouched upon the river at the Middle Bar. I found the current deep and swollen by the rains, which had broken away all the dams made for turning it. The old brush town was nearly deserted, and very few persons were at work on the river banks, the high water having driven all into the gulches, which continued to yield as much as ever. I forded the river with some difficulty, owing to the deep holes quarried in its channel, which sometimes plunged my horse down to the neck. On turning the point of a mountain a mile below, [ came again in sight of the Lower Bar, and recognized the fea tures of a scene which had become so familiar during my visit in August. The town was greatly changed. As I rode up the hill, I found the summer huts of the Sonorians deserted and the in- habitants gone ; Baptiste's airy hotel, with its monte and dining tables, which had done us service as beds, was not to be found A KNOT OF POLITICIANS 231 I feared that all of my friends were gone, and I had made tLe ourney in vain. The place was fast beginning to wear a look of lesolation, when as I passed one of the tents, I was hailed by a rough-looking fellow dressed in a red flannel shirt and striped jacket. Who should it be but Dr. Gillette, the sharer of my gro tesque ride to Stockton in the summer. After the first salutations were over, he conducted me to Mr. Jaines' tent, where I found my old comrade, Col. Lyons, about sitting down to a smoking dinner of beef, venison and tortillas. Dr. Gwin, one of the candi dates for U. S. Senator, had just arrived, and was likewise the ^uest of Mr. James. I joined him in doing execution at the table, with the more satisfaction, because my poor mare had about i quart of corn the last to be had in the place for her supper. After dinner, Mr. Morse, of New Orleans, candidate for Con- gress, and Mr. Brooks, of New York, for the Assembly, made their appearance. We had a rare knot of politicians. Col Lyons was a prominent candidate for the State Senate, and we only lacked the genial presence of Col. Steuart, and the jolly one of Capt. McDougal (who were not far off, somewhere in the dig- gings,) to have had all the offices represented, from the Governor downwards. After dinner, we let down the curtains of the little tent, stretched ourselves out on the blankets, lighted our cigars and went plump into a discussion of California politics. Each of the candidates had his bundle of tickets, his copies of the Consti- tution and his particular plans of action. As it happened there were no two candidates for the same office present, the discussion was carried on in perfect harmony and with a feeling of good-fel- lowship withal. Whatever the politics of the different aspirants, they were, socially, most companionable men. We will not dis- close the mysteries of the conclave, but simply remark that everj 138 ELDORADO. one slept as soundly on bis hard bed as though he were dreaming of a triumphant election. The flood in the river, I found, had proved most disastrous to the operations on the bar. Mr. James' company, which, after immense labor and expense, had turned the channel for three hundred yards, and was just beginning to realize a rich profit from &e river-bed, was suddenly stopped. The last day's washing amounted to $1,700, and the richest portion of the bed was yet to be washed. The entire expense of the undertaking, which required the labor of forty men for nearly two months, was more than twenty thousand dollars, not more than half of which had been realized. All further work was suspended until the next summer, when the returns would probably make full amends for the delay and disappointment. The rich gulch was filled with miners, most of whom were doing an excellent business. The ptrata of white quartz crossing the mountains about half way ut> the gulch, had been tried, and found to contain rich veins of gold A company of about twelve had commenced sinking a shaft tc strike it at right angles. In fact, the metal had inareased, rathei than din inished in quantity, since my former visit. CHAPTER JOURNEY TO THE VOLCANO. MY first care in the morning was to procure forage for my mare. The effects of famine were beginning to show themselves in hei appearance. She stood dejectedly beside the pine stump to which she was tethered, now and then gnawing a piece of the bark to satisfy the cravings of her stomach. Her flanks were thin and her sides hollow, and she looked so wistfully at me with her dull, sunken eyes, that I set out at once in the endeavor to procure something better than pine-bark for her breakfast. The only thing I could find in all the village was bread, five small rolls of which I bought at half a dollar apiece, and had the satisfaction )f seeing her greedily devour them. This feed, however, was far too expensive, and rather than see her starve outright, I gave hr twice we heard yells in the distance, which we took to be thoa of a party of the hostile Indians. The air grew pitchy dark, and the rain fell so fast, that we lost the trail and determined to stop for the night. We had just crossed a sort of divide, and our posi- tion, as near as we could tell in the gloom, was at the entrance of a deep ravine, entirely covered with forests, and therefore a toler- ably secure covert. I had two or three matches in my pocket, from which we struck a flame, ak the foot of a pine tree. We fed it daintily at first with the dry needles and filaments of bark, till it grew strong enough and hungry enough to dry its own fuel. Swinging with our whole weight to the ends of the boughs, we mapped off sufficient to last for the night, and then lay down on the dark side of the tree, with our arms between us to keep them dry. The cold, incessant rain/ pouring down through the boughs soon drenched us quite, and we crawled around to the other side -244 El. DOB A DO Ike Indians, Kke Death, lore a shining mark ; and the thought oi a arrow sent out of the gloom around us, made our backs feel un- mafivtable as we stood before the fire. Lying in the rain, how- ever, without blankets, was eqnally unpleasant ; so we took alter ate half-hours of soaking and drying. Salt pork and exercise combined, gave us an intolerable thirst, to allay which we made torches of cedar bark and went down to * f the bottom of the ravine for water. There was none to be found : and we were about giving up the search when we came to a young pine, whose myriad needles were bent down with their burden of rain-drops. No nectar was ever half so delicious. We caught the twigs in our mouths and drained them dry, then cut down the tree and carried it back in triumph to our fire, where we planted h and let the ram fill up its aromatic beakers. The night seemed interminable. The sound of the rain was like stealthy footstep on the leaves ; the howling of wolves and the roar of water falls a ft distance, startled us. Occasionally, the tread of some animal the trees possibly a deer, attracted by the flame- -put aL on the alert. Just before daybreak the storm ceased, and in ten minutes afterwards the sky was without a cloud. The morning broke brightly and cheeringly. We resumed the path, which led into a grassy meadow about a mile lung, at the further end of which we struck a wagon trail. A saucy wolf came down to the edge of the woods, and barked at us most imperti- nently, but we did not think him worth the powder. The air was fragrant with the smell of cedar a species of the thuya which here grows to the height of two hundred feet. Its boles are per- fectly straight and symmetrical, and may be split with the axe into boards and shingles. Many of the trees had been felled foi this purpose, and lay by the roadside. From the top of a little THE VOLCANIC COMMtTNITT. 245 ndge we looked down into the valley of the Volcano, and could see the smoke rising from the tents. The encampment is in a deep baein surrounded by volcanic lulls, several of which contain ex- tinct craters A small stream flows through the midst. The tente and cabins of the miners are on the lower slopes of the hills, Mid the diggings are partly in the basin and partly in gulches which ranch off from its northern side. The location is very beautiful, and more healthy than the large rivers. Descending into the valley, we stopped at a tent for breakfast, which was got ready by the jnly female in the settlement a wo man from Pennsylvania, whose husband died on the journey out A number of the miners were from the same place. Maj. Bart- lett of Louisiana, with his company, were also at work Acre ; and in another valley, beyond the wooded ridge to the north-east, Capt Jones of Illinois was located, with a company of about sixty men. The whole number of persons at this digging was nearly one hun- dred and fifty, and they had elected an Alcalde and adopted laws for their government. The supplies on hand were very scanty, but they had more on the way, which the first favorable weathei would enable them to receive. In addition to my motives of curiosity, in visiting the Volcano, I was empowered with a political mission to the diggers. The candidates on the Mokelumne gave me letters to some of thorn, and packages of tickets which I was enjoined to commend to their use. On delivering the letters, I found I was considered as having authority to order an election a power which was vested only in the Prefect of the District or his special agents. At the sugges- tion of some of the miners I went with them to the Alcalde, in vder to have a consultation. I disclaimed all authority in tht naatter, but explained to them th<* mode in which the election* 246 ELDORADO. were to be held on the river, and recommended them to adopt ft similar action. Owing to the short time which elapsed between the Governor's proclamation and the day of election, it was im- possible for the Prefect of each district to notify all the organized communities. The only plan, therefore, was to meet on the ap- pointed day, publbly elect Judges and Inspectors, and hold the election in all other respects according to the requirements of the Constitution. This was agreed to by the law-givers of the Volcano as the most advisable mode of action. But behold how easy it is, in a primitive community like this, to obtain the popular favor ! There was, on one of the tickets in the San Joaquin district, a candidate for the State Senate, whose surname was the same as mine, and the Volcanics, as I afterwards learned, took me to be the same individual. " We \vill vote for him," said they, " be- cause he came here to see us, and because he appears to under- (tand the law." Accordingly, the whole vote of the place was jjiven to my namesake, but intended for me. Had I known this fact sooner, I might have been tempted to run for Alcalde, at least. Major Bartlett went with us to examine the diggings. The al- luvial soil of the basin contains little gold, but has been dug up very extensively by the miners, in search of the clay stratum ; beside which the gold is found in coarse grains, mixed with sand and gravel. There is, however, no regularity in the stratum , everything bears marks of violent change and disruption. In holes dug side by side, I noticed that the clay would be reached eighteen inches below the surface in one, and perhaps eight feet in the other. This makes the digging something of a lottery, those who find a deposit always finding a rich one, and those who find none making nothing at all. In the gulches the yield is mow certain. A Mexican had lately taken twenty-eight pounds out ol APPEAKATfCis or THE EXTINCT CRATERS. 247 ft tingle "pocket;" another miner, having struck a rich spot, dug $8,000 in a few days. Many made three, fan: and five ounces daily for several days. In the upper valley the average was about an ounce a day. From my hasty examination of the place, I should not think the gold was thrown up by the craters in a melted state, as the miners imagine. The fact of its being found with the layer of clay would refute this idea. From the strata, water-courses, and other indications, it is nevertheless evi- dent that large slides from the hiils, occasioned by earthquakes or eruptions, have taken place. I climbed the hills and visited two of the craters, neither of which appeared to be the main opening of the volcano. On the contrary, I should rather judge them to be vents or escape-holes for the confined flame, formed in the sides of the mountain. The rocks, by upheaval, are thrown into irregular cones, and show everywhere the marks of intense heat. Large seams, blackened by the subterranean fire, run through them, and in the highest parts are round, smooth holes, a foot in diameter, to some of which no bottom can be found. These are evidently the last fluef through which the air and flame made their way, as the surface hardened over the cooling volcano. The Indian traditions go back to the time when these craters were active, but their chronology is totally indefinite, and I am not geologist enough to venture an opinion. Pines at least a century old, are now growing on the rim f the craters. Further up the mountain, the miners informed me, there are large beds of lava, surrounding craters of still larger dimensions. We took dinner at Major Bartlett's tent, and started on om return accompanied by Dr. Carpentier, of Saratoga, N. Y. Be- fore leaving, I took pains to learn the particulars of the receal 248 ELDORADO fight with tbe Indians at the Volcano. The latter, it seems firs discovered the placer, and were digging when the whites armed. They made room for them at once, and proposed that they should work peaceably together. Things went on amicably for several days, when one of the miners missed his pick. He accused the Indians of stealing it ; the chief declared that if it was in theh camp it should be returned, and started to make inquiries. In- stead of walking he ran ; upon which one of the whites raised his rifle and shot bun. The Indians then armed at once. The miners called up the remaining white men from the placer, and told them that they had been attacked and one of their number killed. The consequence of this false information was a general assault upon the Indians who were at once driven off, and had not returned up to the time of my visit. The same day a man named Aldrich, from Boston, was found in the meadow on the trail bv which we came, pierced with three arrows. The neighborhood of the Volcano was considered dangerous ground, and no ono thought of venturing into the mountains, unless well armed. It is due to the miners to say, that on learning the true state of the quarrel, they banished the scoundrels whose heartless cruelty had placed the whole community in peril. We retraced our steps, saw the snows of the Nevada turned by the sunset to a brighter gold than any hidden in its veins, and reached the camp of the prospectors in a starry and beautiful twilight. As we approached through the trees, in the gathering gloom, they shouted to us to keep off, taking us for Indians, but allowed us to approach, when we answered in English. We were kindly received, and again procured an excellent supper. The men were better than we imagined. They had been anxious about our safety the previous night, and fired their rifles as signals to THE TOP OF POLC S PEAK. 249 Its. After we had grown tired of talking around the blazing camp- fire about grizzly bears, Mexicans, Grila deserts and gulches whose pockets were filled with gold, they gave us a corner in their tent and shared their blankets with us. I took their kindness as a re- buke to my former suspicions of their selfishness, and slept all the better for the happiness of being undeceived. It was a model morning that dawned upon us. The splash of a fountain in the sun, the gloss of a white dove's wing, the wink- ing of the beaded bubbles on Keats' cool draught of vintage, could not have added a sparkle to its brightness. The sky was as blue and keen as a Damascus blade, and the air, filled with a resinous odor of pine, cedar and wild bay, was like the intoxication of new life to the frame. We were up and off with the dawn, and walked several miles before breakfast. On reaching the foot of the Butte Dr. G. and myself determined to make the ascent. Its ramparts of red volcanic rock, bristling with chapparal, towered a thousand feet above us, seemingly near at hand in the clear air. We be- lieved we should be the first to scale its summit. The miners do not waste time in climbing peaks, and the Indians keep aloof, with superstitious reverence, from the dwelling-places of spirits. After a toilsome ascent, at an angle of 45, we reached the summit. Here, where we supposed no human foot had ever been, we found on the crowning stone the very apex of the pyramid the letters " D. B." rudely cut with a knife. Shade of Daniel Boone ! who else but thou could have been pioneer in this far corner of the Farthest West ! As the buried soldier is awakened by the squadron that gallops to battle over his grave, has the tramp of innumerable trains through the long wilderness called thee forth to march in advance, and leave thy pioneer mark OF avery unexplored region between sea and sea ? 250 ELDORADO. Nevertheless we gave the name of Polo's Peak to the Bntte in honor of the dauntless old chief who presided over the countrj round about. Before I left the region, the name was generally adopted by the miners, and I hope future travelers will remember it The view *rom the top is remarkably fine. Situated about half-way between the plain and the dividing ridge of the Sierra Nevada, the Peak overlooks the whole mountain country. The general appearance is broken and irregular, except to the east, where the ranges are higher. The mountains within ten miles of as had snow on their crests, and the Nevada immaculate and lustrous in its hue was not more than thirty miles distant. The courses of the Calaveras, Mokelumne and Cosumne, with the smaller creeks between them, could be distinctly traced. In the nearer region at our feet, we could see the miners at work felling logs and building their winter cabins, and hear the far whoop of Indians, fi-om their hidden rancherias. On the west, the horizon was bounded by the Coast Range, Monte Diablo hi the centre and Suisun Bay making a gap in the chain. Between that blue wall and the rough egion at our feet lay the great plains of Sacra- mento and San Joaquin, fifty miles in breadth, and visible for at least one hundred and fifty miles of extent. The sky was per- fectly clear, and this plain alone, of all the landscape, was covered with a thick white fog, the upper surface of which, as we looked down upon it, was slowly tossed to and fro, moving and shifting like the waves of an agitated sea. We enjoyed this remarkable prospect for an hour, and then made our way down the opposite side of the Peak, following bcai and deer trails through patches of thorny chapparal and long slopes of sliding stones. We tarried for Dr. Carpentier in one of the glens, eating the acorns which lay scattered under the trees ELECTION SCENKS AND MINING CHARACTERS 251 A.S he did not appear, however, we climbed the river hills and came down on the Upper Bar, reaching our starting-point in time r or a dinner to which we did full justice. CHAPTER XXIV. ELECTION SCENES AND MINING CHARACTER*.. ON my arrival at the Lower Bar, I found Mr. Raney, of Stock- on, who had made the journey with the greatest difficulty, the roads being almost impassable. The rainy season had now fairly set in, and as it came a month earlier than usual, the miners, in most cases, were without their winter supplies. Provisions of all kinds had greatly advanced in price, and the cost of freight from Stockton ran up at once to 75 cts. per Ib. Flour was sold on the river at $1 per Ib. and other articles were in the same pro portion Much anxiety was felt lest the rains should not abate in which case there would have been a great deal of suffering on all the rivera. The clouds gradually lowered and settled down on the topmost pines. Towards evening a chill rain came on, and the many gullies on the hill-sides were filled with brown torrents tha brawled noisily on their way to the swollen Mokelumne. The big drops splashed dismally on our tent, as we sat within, but a double cover kept us completely dry and the ditch dug inside the pins turned off the streams that poured down its sides. During the night, however, the wind blew violently down the ravines, and 252 ELDORADO. the skirts of our blankets nearest the side of tne tent were thoroughly soaked My boots stood under a leaky part of the canvas, and as I hastened to put them on next morning, without examination, I thrust my foot into about three inches of water The Election Day dawned wet and cheerlessly. From the folds of our canvas door, we looked out on the soaked and trickling hills and the sodden, dripping tents. Few people were stirring about the place, and they wore such a forlorn look that all idea of getting up a special enthusiasm was at once abandoned. There was no motion made in the matter until towards noon, as the most of the miners lay dozing in their tents. The Alcalde acted as Judge, which was the first step ; next there were two Inspectors to be appointed. I was requested to act as one, but, although I had been long enough in the country to have held the office, I de- clined to accept until after application had been made to some of the inhabitants. The acquiescence of two of the resident traders relieved me of the responsibility. The election was held in the Argest tent in the place, the Inspectors being seated behind the counter, in close proximity to the glasses and bottles, the calls for which were quite as frequent as the votes. I occupied a seat next the Alcalde, on a rough couch covered with an India-rubber blanket, where I passed the day in looking on the election and ptudying the singular characters present. As there were two or three candidates for State offices in the place, the drumming up of voters gave one a refreshing reminis cence of home. The choosing of candidates from lists, nearly all of whom were entirely unknown, was very amusing. Names, in many instances, were made to stand for principles ; accordingly, a Mr. Fair got many votes. One of the candidates, who had been m the river a few days previous, wearing a high-crowned silk hat, VOTING AND VOTERS. 258 with narrow brim, lost about twenty votes on that account. Some went no further than to vote for those they actually knew. One who took the opposite extreme, justified himself in this wise : " When I left home," said he, " I was determined to go it blind I went it blind in coming to California, and I'm not going to stoj now. I voted for the Constitution, and I've never seen the Con- stitution I voted for all the candidates, and I don't know a damned one of them. I'm going it blind all through, I am." The Californians and resident Mexicans who were entitled to vote, were in high spirits, on exercising the privilege for the first time in their lives. It made no difference what the ticket was ; the fact of their having voted very much increased their self-importance, for the day at least. The votes polled amounted to one hundred and five, all of which ffere " For the Constitution." The number of miners on the Bar, who were entitled to vote, was probably double this number, but those who were at work up among the gulches remained in their tents, on account of the rain. A company on the other side of the river was completely cut off from the polls by the rise of the flood, which made it impossible for them to cross. The In- spectors were puzzled at first how far to extend the privilege of suffrage to the Mexicans. There was no copy of the Treaty of Queretaro to be had, and the exact wording of the clause referring to this subject was not remembered. It was at last decided, how- ever, that those who had been residing Lu the country since the conquest, and intended to remain permanently, might be admitted to vote ; and the question was therefore put to each one in turn. The most of them answered readily in the affirmative, and seemed delighted to be considered as citizens. u Como no ?" said a fat good-hum ^red fellow, with a ruddy olive face, as he gave hii 254 ELDORADO. larape a new twirl over his shoulder : " Como no 1 toy Americans ihora" (Why not? I am now an American.) The candidates, whose interest it was to search out all delinquents, finally exhaust- jd the roll, and the polls were closed. The returns were made out in due form, signed and dispatched by a messenger to th Double Spring, to await the carrier from the Upper Bar, who was to convey them to Stockton. During the few days I spent on the Mokeluinne, I had an oppor fcunity of becoming acquainted with many curious characteristics and incidents of mining life. It would have been an interesting study for a philosopher, to note the different effects which sudden enrichment produced upon different persons, especially those whose lives had previously been passed in the midst of poverty and pri- vation. The most profound scholar in human nature might here have learned something which all his previous wisdom and experi- ence could never teach. It was not precisely the development of new qualities in the man, but the exhibition of changes and con- trasts of character, unexpected and almost unaccountable. The world-old moral of gold was completely falsified. Those who were unused to labor, whose daily ounce or two seemed a poor recom- pense for weary muscles and flagging spirits, might carefully hoard their gains ; but they whose hardy fibre grappled with the tough earth as naturally as if it knew no fitter play, and made the coarse gravel and rocky strata yield up then- precious grains, were as profuse as princes and as open-hearted as philanthropists Weather-beaten tars, wiry, delving Irishmen, and stalwart forest- ers from the wilds of Missouri, became a race of sybarites and epicureans. Secure in possessing the " Open Sesame" to the exhaustless treasury under their feet, they gave free rein to every whim or impulse which could possibly be gratified. AN ENGLISHMAN IN RAPTURES. 255 It was no unusual thing to see a company of these men, vrho had never before had a thought of luxury beyond a food beef- steak and a glass of whiskey, drinking their champagne at ten dol- lars a bottle, and eating their tongue and sardines, or warming in the smoky camp-kettle their tin canisters of turtle-soup and lobster- salad. It was frequently remarked that the Oregonians, thougl accustomed all their lives to the most simple, solid and temperate fare, went beyond every other class of miners in their fondues? for champagne and all kinds of cordials and choice liquors These were the only luxuries they indulged in, for they were, to a man, cautious and economical in the use of gold. One of the most amusing cases I saw was that of a company of Englishmen, from New South Wales, who had been on the Moke- lumne about a week at the time of my visit. They had only landed in California two weeks previous, and this was their first experience of gold-digging. One of them, a tall, strong-limbed fellow, who had served seven years as a private of cavalry, waa unceasing in his exclamations of wonder and delight. He repeat- ed his story from morning till night, and in the fullness of his heart communicated it to every new face he saw. " By me soul, but this is a great country !" he would exclaim ; " here a man can dig up as much goold in a day as he ever saw in all his life Hav'n't I got already more than I know what to do with, an' I've only been here a week. An' to think 'at I come here with never a single bloody farthing in my pocket ! An' the Frenchman, down the hill there, him 'at sells wittles, he wouldn't trust me for a piece of bread, the devil take him ! ' If ye 've no money, go an' dig some ;' says he ; * people dig here o' Sundays all the same.' ' 111 dig o' Sundays for no man, ye bloody villain ;' says I, ' IT rtarve first.' An' I lid'nt, an' I had a hungry belly, too. But o 1* 256 ELDORADO- Monday I dug nineteen dollars, an' o' Tuesday twenty-three, an' o Friday two hundred an' eighty-two dollars in one lump as big aa yer fist ; an' all for not workin' o' Sundays. Was there ever rich a country in the world!" And, as if to convince hunseli that he actually possessed all this gold, he bought champagne, ale and brandy by the dozen bottles, and insisted on supplying ever} body in the settlement. There was one character on the river, whom I had met on mj first visit in August and still found there on my return. He pos- sessed sufficient individuality of appearance and habits to have made him a hero of fiction ; Cooper would have delighted to have stumbled upon him. His real name I never learned, but he waa known to all the miners by the cognomen of " Buckshot" an appellation which seemed to suit his hard, squab figure very well He might have been forty years of age or perhaps fifty ; his face was but slightly wrinkled, and he wore a heavy black beard which grew nearly to his eyes and entirely concealed his mouth. When he removed his worn and dusty felt hat, which was but seldom, hie large, square forehead, bald crown and serious gray eyes gave him an appearance of reflective intellect ; a promise hardly verified by his conversation. He was of a stout and sturdy frame, and always wore clothes of a coarse texture, with a flannel shirt and belt containing a knife. I guessed from a slight peculiarity of his *ccent that he was a German by birth, though I believe he was not considered so by the miners. The habits of " Buckshot" were still more eccentric than his appearance. He lived entirely alone, in a small tent, and seemed rather to shun than court the society of others. His tastes wer* exceedingly luxurious ; he always had the best of everything in the market, regardless of its cost The finest hams, at a dollai " BUCKSHOT." 257 and a half the pound ; preserved oysters, coin and peas, at sii dollars a canister ; onions and potatoes, whenever such articles made their appearance ; Chinese sweetmeats and dried fruits, were all on his table, and his dinner was regularly moistened by a bottle of champagne. He did his own cooking, an operation which cost little trouble, on account of the scarcity of fresh provisions. Whey particularly lucky in digging, he would take his ease for a day 01 two, until the dust was exhausted, when he would again shoulder his pick and crowbar and commence burrowing in some lonely corner of the rich gulch. He had been in the country since the drst discovery of the placers, and was reported to have dug, hi all, between thirty and forty thousand dollars, all of which he had bpent for his subsistence. I heard him once say that he never dug less than an ounce in one day, and sometimes as much as two pounds. The rough life of the mountains seemed entirely conge- nial to his tastes, and he could not have been induced to change it for any other, though less laborious and equally epicurean Amoig the number of miners scattered through the differ- ent gulches, I met daily with men of education and intel ligence, from all parts of the United States. It was never safe to presume on a person's character, from his dress or appearance. A rough, dirty, sunburnt fellow, with unshoru beard, quarrying away for life at the bottom of some rocky hole, might be a graduate of one of the first colleges in the country, and a man of genuine refinement and taste. I found plenty of men who were not outwardly distinguishable from the inveterate trapper or mountaineer, but who, a year before, had been patientless physicians, briefless lawyers and half-starved editors It was this infusion of intelligence which gave the gold hunting communities notwithstanding their barbaric exterior and 258 ELDORADO. mode of life, an order and individual security which at first sight deemed little less than marvellous. Since my first visit, the use of quicksilver had been introduced on the river, and the success which attended its application to gold-washing will bring it henceforth into general use. An im- proved rocker, having three or four lateral gutters in its bottom which were filled with quicksilver, took up the gold so perfectly, that not the slightest trace of it could be discovered in the refuse earth. The black sand, which was formerly rejected, was washed in a bowl containing a little quicksilver in the bottom, and the amalgam formed by the gold yielded four dollars to every pound of sand. Mr. James, who had washed out a great deal of this sand, evaporated the quicksilver in a retort, and produced a cake of fine gold worth nearly five hundred dollars. The machines sold at one thousand dollars apiece, the owners having wisely taken the precaution to have them patented. There is no doubt that, by means of quicksilver, much of the soil which has heretofore been passed by as worthless, will give a rich return. The day before my departure, Dr. Gillette washed out several panfuls of earth from the very top of the hills, and found it to contain abundance of fine grains of gold. A heap of refuse earth, left by the common rocker after ten thousand dollars had been washed, yielded still another thousand to the new ma- chine. Quicksilver was" enormously high, four dollars a pound having been paid in Stockton. When the mines of Santa Clara shall be in operation, the price will be so much reduced that its use will become universal and the annual golden harvest be thereby greatly increased. It will be many years before all the placers or gold deposits are touched, no matter how large the emigration to ia mav be The region in which all the mining operations MY OWN GO! B-DfGGINO. 259 are now carried on, extending from the base of the proper Sierra Nevada to the plains of Sacramento and San Joaquin, is upwards of five hundred miles in length by fifty in breadth. Towards the head of the Sacramento River gold is also found in the granite formation, and there is every reason to believe that it exists in the valleys and cafions of the great snowy ridge. I was strongly tempted to take hold of the pick and pan, ana . try my luck in the gulches for a week or two. I had fully intended, on reaching California, to have personally tested the pleasure of gold-digging, as much for the sake of a thorough experience of lift among the placers as from a sly hope of striking on a pocket full of big lumps. The unexpected coming-on of the rainy season, made my time of too much account, besides adding greatly to the hardships of the business. Two or three days' practice is requisite to handle the implements properly, and I had no notion of learning the manipulations without fingering the gold. Once, indeed, I took a butcher-knife, went into one of the forsaken holes in the big gulch, lay on my back as I had seen the other miners do, and endeavored to pick out some yellow grains from the crevices of the crumbling rock. My search was vain, however, and I was indebted to the kindness of some friends for the only specimens I brought away from the Diggings. CHAPTER XXV. THE RAINT SEASON. I LEFT the Mokelumne River the afternoon following Election Day, and retraced my path to Jackson's Creek, which I reached at dark. Being unhorsed, I resumed my old plodding gait, " packing" my blankets and spurs. I was obliged to walk to the Upper Bar, in order to cross the Mokelumne, whose current was now very deep and rapid. A man named Bills, who kept a brush hotel with a canvas roof, had set up an impromptu ferry, made by nailing a few planks upon four empty barrels, lashed together This clumsy float was put over by means of a rope stretched from bank to bank. The tendency of the barrels to roll in the swift current, made it very insecure for more than two persons. The same morning, four men who were crossing at once, overbore ita delicate equilibrium and were tipped into the water, whence they were rescued with some difficulty. A load of freight met with the same luck just before I reached the ferry. The banks were heaped with barrels, trunks, crates of onions and boxes of liquor, waiting to be taken over, and some of the Mexican arrieros were eudea' 1 ?oring to push their pack-mules into the water and force them to swim. I took my place on the unsteady platform with some doubts of a dry skin, but as we were all careful to keep a plumb line, th# passage was made in safety. NIGHT AT JACKSON'S CREEK. 261 I toiled up the windings of a deep gulch, whose loneliness, aftei f had passed the winter huts of the gold-diggers, was made verj impressive by the gathering twilight. The gray rocks which walled it in towards the summit looked dim and spectral under the eavet oi' the pines, and a stream of turbid water splashed with a melan- choly sound into the chasm below. The transparent glimmer of the lighted tents on Jackson's Creek had a cheery look as seen al the bottom of the gulch on the other side of the mountain. I Btopped at Cosgrove's tent, where several travelers who had ar- rived before me were awaiting supper. We sat about the fire and talked of gold-digging, the election and the prospect of supplier for the winter. When Mrs. Cosgrove had finished frying her beef and boiling her coffee, we rolled to the table all the casks, boxes and logs we could find, and sat down to our meal under the open stars. A Chinook Indian from Oregon acted as waiter an attendance which we would rather have dispensed with. I was offered a raw-hide in one corner of a small storage-tent, and spread my blanket upon it ; the dampness of the earth, however, striking through both hide and blankets, gave me several chills and rheu- matic pains of the joints, before morning. The little community established on the knoll numbered about sixty persons. Thej were all settled there for the winter, though the gold dug did not average more than half an ounce to each man, daily. Next morning, I crossed the hills to Sutter's Creek, where 1 Found the settlement increased by several new arrivals. From this place my path branched off to the north, crossing several mountain ridges to Amador's Creek, which, like the streams I had already passed, was lined with tents and winter cabins. I ques- tioned several miners about their profits, but could get no satisfac- tory answer. Singularly enough, it is almost impossible to letrn 262 ELDORADO. from the miners themselves, unless one happens to be a near ao quaiutance, the amount of their gains. If unlucky, they dislike to confess it ; if the contrary, they have good reason for keeping it secret. When most complaining, they may be most successful. T heard of one, who, after digging fruitlessly for a week, came suddenly on a pocket, containing about three hundred dollars. Seeing a friend approaching, he hastily filled it up with stones, and began grubbing in the top soil. " Well, what luck ?" inquired his friend. " Not a damned cent," was the answer, given with a mock despondency, while the pale face and stammering voice be- trayed the cheat at once. Nobody believes you are not a gold- hunter. He must be a fool, they think, who would go to the mountains for any other purpose. The questions invariably asked me were : " Where have you been digging ?" and " Where do you winter ?" If I spoke of going home soon, the expression was : " Well, I s'pose you've got your pile ;" or, " You've been lucky in your prospecting, to get off so soon." Leaving Amador's Creek, a walk of seven miles took me to Dry Creek, where I found a population of from two to three hun- dred, established for the winter. The village was laid out with some regularity, and had taverns, stores, butchers' shops and monte tables. The digging was going on briskly, and averaged a good return. The best I could hear of, was $114 in two days, contrasted with which were the stories of several who had got nothing but the fever and ague for their pains. The amount of sickness on these small rivers during the season had been very great, and but a small part of it, in my opinion, was to be ascribed to excesses of any kind. All new countries, it is well known, breed fever and ague, and this was especially the case in the gold region, where, before the rains came on, the miner was expos< d THE WINTER SETTLEMENTS. 263 to intense heat during the day and was frequently cold undei double blankets at night, The water of many of the rivers ooca- sious diarrhoea to those who drink it, and scarcely one out of hundred emigrants escapes an attack of this complaint. At all these winter settlements, however small, an alcalde b chosen and regulations established, as near as possible in accord- ance with the existing laws of the country. Although the autho- rity exercised by the alcalde is sometimes nearly absolute, the miners invariably respect and uphold it. Thus, at whatever cost, order and security are preserved ; and when the State organization shall have been completed, the mining communities, for &n extent of five hundred miles, will, by a quiet and easy process, pass into regularly constituted towns, and enjoy as good government and protection as any other part of the State. Nothing in California seemed more miraculous to me than this spontaneous evolution ol social order from the worst elements of anarchy It was a lessot worth even more than the gold. The settlement on Dry Creek is just on the skirts of the rough mountain region tho country of canons, gulches, canadas and divides ; terms as familar in the diggings as " per cent" in Wall- street. I had intended to strike directly across the mountains to the American Fork. The people represented this route to be im- practicable, and the jagged ridges, ramparted with rock, which towered up in that direction, seemed to verify the story, so I took the trail p or Daly's Ranche, twenty-two miles distant. After passing the Willow Springs, a log hut on the edge of a swamp, the road descended to the lower hills, where it was crossed by fre- quent streams. I passed on the way a group of Indians who were skinning a horse they had killed and were about to roast. They were well armed and had probably shot the horse while it wa* 264 aLDORADO. grazing. I greeted them with a " buenas dias," which they sul- lenly returned, adding an " ugh ; ugh !" which might have ex- pressed either contempt, admiration, friendship or fear. Iii traveling through these low hills, I passed several companies of miners who were engaged in erecting log huts for the whiter. The gravelly bottoms in many places showed traces of their pros- pecting, and the rocker was in operation where there was sufficient water. When I inquired the yield of gold I could get no satis- factory answer, but the faces of the men betrayed no sign of disap- pointment. While resting under a leafless oak, I was joined by a boy of nineteen who had been digging on the Dry Creek and was now returning to San Francisco, ague-stricken and penniless. We walked on in company for several hours, under a dull gray sky, which momentarily threatened rain. The hot flush of fever was on his face, and he seemed utterly desponding and disinclined to talk. Towards night, when the sky had grown darker, he de- clared himself unable to go further, but I encouraged him to keep on until we reached a cabin, where the miners kindly received him for the night. I met on the road many emigrant wagons, bound for the dig (rings. They traveled in companies of two and three, joining learns whenever their wagons stuck fast in the mire. Some were obliged to unload at the toughest places, and leave part of their stores on the Plain until they could return from theii Winter quar- ters. Their noon camps would be veritable treasures for m friend Parley, the artist, if he could have seen them. The men were all gaunt, long-limbed Rip Van Winkles, with brown faces, matted hair and beards, and garments which seemed to have grown up with them, for you could not believe they had ever been off. The women, who were somewhat more tidy, had suf THE RAINS AND THE PLAINS. 265 fered less from the journey, but there were stfll many fine subject* for the pencil among them. In the course of the day I passed about thirty teams. At night, after a toilsome journey, I reached the Cosuinne River, two miles below the diggings. I was wet from the swampa I crossed and the pools I had waded, weary in body, and thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of traveling on the Plains during the rainy season. One would think, from the parched and seamed appearance of the soil in summer, that noth- ing short of an absolute deluge could restore the usual moisture. A single rain, however, fills up the cracks, and a week of wet weather turns the dusty plain into a deep mire, the hollows into pools, and the stony arroyos into roaring streams. The roads then become impassable for wagons, killing to mules, and terribly laborious for pedestrians. In the loose, gravelly soil on the hill- tops, a horse at once sinks above his knees, and the only change of travel is by taking the clayey bottoms. Where, a month be- fore there had been a Jornada of twenty miles, arid as the desert, my path was now crossed by fifty streams. Where the trail struck the river I came upon a small tent, pitched by the roadside, and was hailed by the occupants. They were two young men from Boston, who came out in the sum- mer, went to the North-Fork of the American, prospered in their digging, and were going southward to spend the winter. They were good specimens of the sober, hardy, persevering gold-digger a class who never fail to make their " piles." I willingly ac- cepted their invitation to spend the night, whereupon they threw another log on the camp-fire, mixed some batter for slap-jacks, and put a piece of salt pork in the pan. We did not remain long bout the fire, after my supper was finished. Uniting our store of 2fi6 ELDORADO blankets, we made a bed in common for all three, entirely filling the space covered by the little tent. Two or three showers fell daring the night, and the dash of rain on the canvas, so near my head, made doubly grateful the warmth and snugness of oui covert. The morning brought another rain, and the roads grew deeper and tougher. At Coates's Ranche, two miles further, T was ferried across the Cosumne in a canoe. The river was falling, and teams could barely pass. The day previous a wagon and team had been washed several hundred yards down the stream, and the owners were still endeavoring to recover the running works which lay in a deep hole. Several emigrant companies were camped on the grassy bottoms along the river, waiting a chance to cross. At the ranche I found breakfast just on the table, and to be had at the usual price of a dollar and a half ; the fare consisted of beef broiled in the fire, coarse bread, frijoles and coffee. The landlady was a German emigrant, but had been so long among the Ameri- can settlers and native rancheros, that her talk was a three-stranded twist of the different languages. She seemed quite unconscious that she was not talking in a single tongue, for all three came to serve her thought with equal readiness. I stood in the door some time, deliberating what to do. The eky had closed in upon the plain with a cheerless drizzle, which made walking very uncomfortable, and I could find no promise of a favorable change of weather. My intention had been to visit Mormon Island and afterwards Culloma Mill, on the American Fork. The former place was about thirty miles distant, but the trail was faint and difficult to find ; while, should the rain increase, I could not hope to make the journey in one day. The walk to Bacramento presented an equally dispiriting aspect, but after somo A RANCHE AND ITS INHABITANTS. 207 luostioning and deliberation, I thought it possible that Genera. Morse might have left my gray mare at some of the ranches further down the river, and resolved to settle the question before going further. Within the space of two or three miles I visited three, and came at last to a saw-mill, beyond which there was no habitation for ten miles. The family in an adjoining house seemed little disposed to make my acquaintance ; I therefore took shelter from the rain, which was now pouring fast, in a mud cabin, on the floor of which lay two or three indolent vaqueros They were acquainted with every animal on all the ranches, and unhesitating ly declared that my mare was not among them. When the rain slacked, I walked back to one of the othei ranches, where I found several miners who had taken shelter in a new adobe house, which was partially thatched. We gathered together in a room, the floor of which was covered with wet tule vnd endeavored to keep ourselves warm. The place was so chili that I went into the house inhabited by the family, and askod per- mission to dry myself at the fire. The occupants were two wa men, apparently sisters, of the ages of eighteen and thirty ; the younger would have been handsome, but for an expression of ha- bitual discontent and general contempt of everything. They made no answer to my request, so I took a chair and sat down near the blaze. Two female tongues, however, cannot long keep silent > and presently the elder launched into a violent anathema against all emigrants, as she called them. I soon learned that she had been in the country three years ; that she had at first been living on Bear Creek ; that the overland emigrants, the previous year having come into the country almost destitute, appropriated some of the supplies which had been left at home while the family wag absent gold-hunting ; and, finally, that the fear of being in futurf 268 ELDORADO. plundered of their cattle and wheat had driven them to the banks of the Cosumne, where they had hoped for some security. Thej were deceived, however ; the emigrants troubled them worse than ever, and though they charged a dollar and a half a meal and sometimes cleared fifty dollars a day, still their hatred was not abated. Most especially did the elder express her resentment agains the said emigrants, on account of their treatment of the Indians. I felt disposed at first to agree with her wholly in their condem- nation, but it appeared that she was influenced by other motives than those of humanity. " Afore these here emigrants come," said she ; " the Injuns were as well-behaved and bidable as could be ; I liked 'em more 'n the whites. When we begun to find gold on the Yuber, we could git 'em to work for ns day in and day out fur next to nothin'. We told 'em the gold was stuff to whitewasl booses with, and give 'em a hankecher for a tin-cup full ; but affce tne emigrants begun to come along and put all sorts of notiont into their heads, there was no gettm them to do nothin'." I took advantage of a break in this streak of " chain lightning./ to inquire whether Dr. Gwin and Gen. Morse had recently passed that way ; but they did not know them by name. " Well," said I, " the gentlemen who are trying to get elected." " Yes," re- joined the elder, " them people was here. They stuck their heads in the door one night and asked if they might have supper and lodgin' I told 'em no, I guessed they couldn't. Jist then Mr. Kewen come along ; he know'd 'em and made 'em acquainted. Gosh ' but I was mad. I had to git supper for 'em then ; but ii *t'd 'a bin me, I'd 'a had more spunk than to eat, after I'd bio told I could 'n't." It had been difficult for me to keep a serious countenance before, but now 1 burst into a hearty laugh, which A FEMININE COMPLIMtNT. 269 they took as a compliment to their " spunk." One of the house- hold, a man of some education, questioned me as to the object of my emigration to California, which I explained without reserve. This, however, brought on another violent expression of opinion from the same female. " That's jist the way," said she ; " some people come here, think they've done great things, and go home and publish all sorts of lies ; but they don't know no more'n noth in' in Grod A'mighty's world, as much as them people that's bin here three years." After this declaration I thought it best to retreat to the half-finished adobe house, and remain with my com- panions in misery. Towards evening we borrowed an axe, with which we procured fuel enough for the night, and built a good fire A Mexican, driven in by the rain, took out his cards and set up a monte bank of ten dollars, at which the others played with shillings and quarters. I tried to read an odd volume of the " Scottish Chiefs," which I found in the house, but the old charm was gone, and I wondered at the childish taste which was so fasci- nated with its pages. We slept together on the earthen floor. All night the rain pat- tered on the tule thatch, but at sunrise it ceased. The sky was still lowering, and the roads were growing worse so rapidly, that instead of starting across the plains for Mormon Island, the near- est point on the American Fork where the miners were at work, I turned about for Sacramento City, thinking it best to return while there was a chance. A little experience of travel over the saturated soil soon convinced me that my tour in the mountains was over. I could easily relinquish my anticipations of a visit to the mining regions of the American Fork, Bear and Tuba Rivers, for life at the different diggings is very much the same, and the bracter of the gold deposits does not materially vary ; but therr 270 ELDORAiJO. had ever been a shining point in the background of all my tol naer dreams of California a shadowy object to be attained, of which I had never lost sight during my wanderings and from vjhich I could not turn away without a pang of regret and disap- pointment. This was, a journey to the head of the Sacramento Valley, a sight of the stupendous Shaste Peak, which stands like an obelisk of granite capped with gleaming marble, on the bor- ders of Oregon, and perhaps an exploration of the terrific canons through which the river plunges in a twenty-mile cataract, from the upper shelf of the mountains. The fragments of description tfhich I had gathered from Oregonians, emigrants and " prospec- tors" who had visited that region, only made my anticipations more glowing and my purpose more fixed. I knew there was grandeur there, though there might not be gold. Three weeks of rough travel, had the dry season extended to its usual length, would have enabled me to make the journey ; but, like most of the splendid plans we build for ourselves, I was obliged to give it up on the eve of fulfilment. A few days of rain completely washed it out of my imagination, and it was long before I could fill the blank. I was accompanied by one of the " Iowa Rangers," from Du- buque, Iowa. He had been at work at the Dry Diggings on Weav- er's Creek. He was just recovering from the scurvy, and could not travel fast, but was an excellent hand at wading. Before reaching the timber of the American Fork, we crossed thirty o forty streams, many of which were knee-deep. Where they wei so wide as to render a leap impossible, my plan was to dash throug at full speed, and I generally got over with but a partial satura- tion : the broad, shallow pools obliged us to stop and pull off oui hoots. It was one form of the water-cure I did net relish. " If SACRAMENTO AGAIN 271 this be traveling in the rainy season," thought I, " I'll have none of it." On the banks of the American Fork we found a sandy soil and made better progress. Following that beautiful stream through the afternoon, we came at dusk to Sutter's Fort, which was sur rounded by a moat of deep mud. I picked my way in the dark to Sacramento City, but was several times lost in its tented laby- rintb-^ before I reached Oirt. Baker's store under whose hospi- table roof I laid down my pack and took UD mv abode for several day* CHAPTER XXVI. NIGHT IN SACRAMENTO CITY. SACRAMENTO CITY was one place by day and another by night, and of the two, its night-side was the most peculiar. As the day went down dull and cloudy, a thin fog gathered in the humid at- mosphere, through which the canvas houses, lighted from within, shone with a hroad, obscure gleam, that confused the eye and made the streets most familiar by daylight look strangely different. They bore no resemblance to the same places, seen at mid-day, under a break of clear sunshine, and pervaded with the stir of business life. The town, regular as it was, became a bewildering labyrinth of half-light and deep darkness, and the perils of travers- ing it were greatly increased by the mire and frequent pools left by the rain. To one, venturing out after dart for the first time, these peruV were by no means imaginary. Each man wore boots reaching to the knees or higher, if he could fret them with the pantaloons tucked inside, but there were pR-fails, into which had he fallen, even these would have availed little. In the more frequented streets, where drinking and gambling had full swing, there was a partial light, streaming out through doors and crimson window- ourtains, to guide his steps. Sometimes a platform of plank re PERILS OF A NIGHT RAMLLE. 273 ceived his feet ; sometimes he skipped from one loose bai rel-stave to another, laid with the convex-side upward ; and sometimes, deceived by a scanty piece of scantling, he walked off its further end into a puddle of liquid mud. Now, floundering in the stifl mire of the mid-street, he plunged down into a gulley and wag 11 brought up" by a pool of water ; now, venturing near the houses a scaffold-pole or stray beam dealt him an unexpected blow. II he wandered into the outskirts of the town, where the tent-city of the emigrants was built, his case was still worse. The brierj thickets of the original forest had not been cleared away, and the stumps, trunks and branches of felled trees were distributed ovci the soil with delightful uncertairty If he escaped these, the la- riats of picketed mules spread then- toils for his feet, threatening entanglement and a kick from one of the vicious animals ; tent- ropes and pins took him across the shins, and the horned heads of cattle, left where they were slaughtered, lay ready to gore him at every step. A walk of any distance, environed by such dangers, especially when the air was damp and chill, and there was a pos- sibility of ram at any moment, presented no attractions to the weary denizens of the place. A great part of them, indeed, took to their blankets soon after dark. They were generally worn out with the many excitements of thp day, and glad to find a position of repose. Reading was out of the question to the most of them when candles were $4 pei Ib. and scarce at that ; but in any case, the preternatural activity and employment of mind induced by the business habits of th pkce would have made impossible anything like quiet thought I saw many persons who had brought the works of favorite authors with them, for recreation at odd hours, but of all the works thu* brought, I never saw one read. Men preferred or rather it grew, 274 ELDORADO. involuntarily, into a custom to lie at ease instead, and turn over in the brain all their shifts and manoeuvres of speculation, to see whether any chance had been left uutouched. Some, grouped around a little pocket-stove, beguile an hour or two over their cans of steaming punch or other warming concoction, and build schemes out of the smoke of their rank Guayaquil puros for the odor of a genuine Havana is unknown. But, by nine o'clock at farthest, nearly all the working population of Sacramento City are stretched out on mattrass, plank or cold earth, according to tho state of their fortunes, and dreaming of splendid runs of luck 01 listening to the sough of the wind in the trees. There is, however, a large floating community of overland emi- grants, miners and sporting characters, who prolong the wakeful- ness of the streets far into the night. The door of many a gam- bling-hell on the levee, and in J and K streets, stands invitingly open ; the wail of torture from innumerable musical instruments peals from all quarters through the fog and darkness. Full bands, each playing different tunes discordantly, are stationed in front of the principal establishments, and as these happen to be near to- gether, the mingling of the sounds in one horrid, ear-splitting, brazen chaos, would drive frantic a man of delicate nerve. All one's old acquaintances in the amateur-music line, seem to have followed him. The gentleman who played the flute in the next room to yours, at home, has been hired at an ounce a night to perform in the drinking-tent across the way ; the very French born whose lamentations used to awake you dismally from the first sweet snooze, now greets you at some corner ; and all the squeak- ing violins, grumbling violincellos and rowdy trumpets which have severally plagued you in other times, are congregated here, in loving proximity The very strength, loudness and confusion of ETHIOPIAN MELODIES. 275 tho noises. wLish, heard at a little distance, have the effect of one great scattering performance, marvellously takes the fancy of the rough mountain men. Some of the establishments have small companies of Ethiopian melodists, who nightly call upon " Susanna !" and jntreat to be carried back to Old Virginny. These songs are universally po- pular, and the crowd of listeners is often so great as to embarrass the player at the monte tables and injure the business of the gamblers. I confess to a strong liking for the Ethiopian airs, and used to spend half an hour every night in listening to them and watching the curious expressions of satisfaction and delight in the faces .of the overland emigrants, who always attended in a body. The spirit of the music was always encouraging ; even its mosi doleful passages had a grotesque touch of cheerfulness a mingling of sincere pathos and whimsical consolation, which somehow took held of all moods in which it might be heard, raising them to the same notch of careless good-humor. The Ethiopian melodies well deserve to be called, as they are in fact, the national airs of America. Their quaint, mock-sentimental cadences, so well suited to the broad absurdity of the words their reckless gaiety and irreverent familiarity with serious subjects and their spirit of antagonism and perseverance are true expressions of the more popular sides of the national character. They follow the American -ace in all its emigrations, colonizations and conquests, as certa'uly as the fourth of July and Thanksgiving Day. The penniless and half despairing emigrant is stimulated to try again by the sound of " It '11 never do to give it up so !" and feels a pang of home-sick ness at the burthen of the " Old Virginia Shore." At the time of which I am writing, Sacramento City boasted the only theatre in California. Its performances, three time* 276 ELDORADO. week, were attended by crowds of the miners, and the ownen realized a very handsome profit. The canvas building used foi this purpose fronted on the levee, within a door or two of the City Hotel ; ^t would have been taken for an ordinary drinking-house bu* for the sign : " EAGLE THEATRE," which was nailed to the top c-' the canvas frame. Passing through the bar-room we ar- rive s*t the entrance ; the prices of admission are : Box, $3 ; Pit, $2. Tbe spectators are dressed in heavy overcoats and felt hats, with be 3ts reaching to the knees. The box-tier is a single rough gallery at Dne end, capable of containing about a hundred persons ; the pit v'ill probably hold three hundred more, so that the receipts of a full ^ouse amount to $900. The sides and roof of the theatre are canvas, which, when wet, effectually prevents ventilation, and renaers the atmosphere hot and stifling. The drop-curtain, which is down at present, exhibits a glaring land- scape, with dark-brown trees in the foreground, and lilac-colored mountains against a yellow sky. The overture commences ; the orchestra is composed of only five members, under the direction of an Italian, and performs with toleral le correctness. The piece for the night is " The Spectre of the Forest," in which the celebrated actress, Mrs. Ray, " of the Roy 1 Theatre, New Zealand," will appear. The bell rings ; the curtain rolb ap ; and we look upon a forest scene, in the midst of which appears Hildebrand, the robber, in a sky-blue mantle. The foliage of the forest is of a dark-red color, which makes a great tnpression on the spectators and prepares them for the bloody scenes that are to follow. The other characters are a brave knight in a purple dress, with his servant in scarlet , they ar< about to storm the robber's hold and carry off a captive maiden Several acts are filled with the usual amount of fighting and ter THE INSIDE OF A CALIFORN A THEATRE 277 rible speeches ; but the interest of the play is carried to an awfiu height by the appearance of two spectres, clad in mutilated tent- eovers, and holding spermaceti candles in their hands. At th juncture Mrs. Ray rushes in and throws herself into an attitude in the middle of the stage : why she does it, no one can tell. This movement, which she repeats several times in the course of the first three acts, has no connection with the tragedy ; it is evidently introduced for the purpose of showing the audience that there is, actually, a female performer. The miners, to whom the sight of a woman is not a frequent occurrence, are delighted with these passages and applaud vehemently. In the closing scenes, where Hildebrand entreats the heroine to become his bride, Mrs. Ray shone in all her glory. " No!" said she, " I'd rather take a basilisk and wrap its cold fangs around me, than be clasped in the hembraces of an 'artless robber." Then, changing her tone to that of entreaty, she calls upon the knight in purple, whom she declares to be " me 'ope me only 'ope !" We will not stay to hear the songs and duetts which follow ; the tragedy has been a sufficient infliction. For her " 'art-rending" personations, Mrs. Ray received $200 a week, and the wages of the other actors were in the same proportion. A musical gentle- man was paid 96 for singing " The Sea ! the Sea !" hi a deep bass voice. The usual sum paid musicians was $16 a night. A Swiss organ-girl, by playing in the various hells, accumulated $4000 in the course of five or six months. The southern part of Sacramento City, where the most of the overland emigrants had located themselves, was an interesting place for a night-ramble, when one had courage to undertake threading the thickets among which their tents were pitched. There, on fallen logs about their camp-fires, might be seen groups that ba<3 278 ELDORADO. journoycd together across the Continent, recalling the hardnhipi and perils of the travel. The men, with their long beards, weather-beaten faces and ragged garments, seen in the red, flick- ering light of the fires, made wild and fantastic pictures. Some times four of them might be seen about a stump, intent on re- viving their ancient knowledge of " poker," and occasionally a more social group, filling their tin cups from a kettle of tea 01 something stronger. Their fires, however, were soon left tc smoulder away ; the evenings were too raw and they were too weary with the day's troubles to keep long vigils. Often, too, without playing the eavesdropper, one might mingle unseen with a great many of their companies gathered together inside the tents. TL.e thin, transparent canvas revealed the sha- dows of their forms, and was no impediment to the sound of their voices ; besides, as they generally spoke in a bold, hearty tone, every word could be overheard at twenty yards' distance. The fragments of conversation which were caught in walking through this part of the city made a strange but most interesting medley There were narratives of old experience on the Plains , notes about the passage of the mountains compared ; reminiscences of the Salt Lake City and its strange enthusiasts ; sufferings at the sink of Humboldt's River and in the Salt Desert recalled, and opinions of California in general, given in a general manner The conversation, however, was sure to wind up with a talk about home a lamentation for its missed comforts and frequently a regret at having forsaken them. The subject was inexhaustible, and when once they commenced calling up the scenes and inci- dents of their life in the Atlantic or Mississippi world, everything ilse was forgotten. At such times, and hearing snatches of *hes convernations, [ too was carried home by an irresistible longing SQUATTERS' AWD GAMBLERS' QUARRELS. 279 and went back to my blankets and dreams of grizzly bear, dig- oouraged and dissatisfied Before I left the place, the number of emigrants settled there for the winter amounted to two or three thousand. They wert all located on the vacant lots, which had been surveyed by the original owners of the town and were by them sold to others. The emigrants, who supposed that the land belonged of right to the United States, boldly declared their intention of retaining pos session of it. Each man voted himself a lot, defying the threats and remonstrances of the rightful owners. The town was greatly agitated for a time by these disputes ; meetings were held by both parties, and the spirit of hostility ran to a high pitch. At the time of my leaving the country, the matter was still unsettle'!, but the flood which occurred soon after, by sweeping both squatters and speculators off the ground, balanced accounts for awhile and left the field clear for a new start. In the gambling-hells, under the excitement of liquor and play, a fight was no unusual occurrence More than once, while walk- ing in the streets at a late hour, I heard the report of a pistol : once, indeed, I came near witnessing a horrid affray, in which one of the parties was so much injured that he lay for many days blind, and at the point of death. I was within a few steps of the door, and heard the firing in time to retreat. The punishment for these quarrels, when inflicted which was very rarely done was not so prompt and terrible as for theft ; but, to give the gambling com- munity their due, their conduct was much more orderly and re- spectable than it is wont to be in other countries. This, however was not so much a merit of their own possessing, as the effect of a rtrong public sentiment in favor of preserving order. T must not omit to mention the fate of my old gray mare, who 3* 280 ELDORADO. would have served me faithfully, had she been less lazy and bettei provided with forage. On reaching Sacramento City I found that Gen. Morse had been keeping her for me at a livery stable, at a cost of $5 a day. She looked in much better spirits than when I saw her eating pine-bark on the Mokelumne, and in riding to the town of Sutter, I found that by a little spurring, she could raise a very passable gallop. The rains, however, by putting a stop tc travel, had brought down the price of horses, so that after search- ing some time for a purchaser I could get no offer higher than $50. I consented to let her go ; we went into a stove and weighed rat the price in fine North Fork gold, and the new owner, after (rotting her through the streets for about an hour, sold he: again Jor $60. I did not oare to trace her fortunes further. CHAPTER XXVII. THE OTERLAND EMIGRATION OF 1849. SACRAMENTO CITY was the goal of the emigration by the north- am routes. From the beginning of August to the last of December scarcely a day passed without the arrival of some man or company of men and families, from the mountains, to pitch their tents for a few days on the bank of the river and rest from their months ol hardship. The vicissitudes through which these people had passed, the perils they had encountered and the toils they had endured seem to me without precedent in History. The story of thirty thousand souls accomplishing a journey of more than two thousand tniles through a savage and but partially explored wilderness, crossing on their way two mountain chains equal to the Alps in height and asperity, besides broad tracts of burning desert, and plains of nearly equal desolation, where a few patches of stunted drubs and springs of brackish water were their only stay, has in it so much of heroism, of daring and of sublime endurance, that ;ve may vainly question the records of any age for its equal Standing as I was, at the closing stage of that grand pilgrimage, the sight of these adventurers as they came in day by day, and the hearing of their stories, each of which had its own peculiar and separate character, had a more fascinating because more real in- terest than the tales of the glorious old travelers which so i as in childhood '_' v - ELDORADO * It would be impossible to give, in a general description of th emigration, viewed as one great movement, a complete idea of its many wonderful phases. The experience of any single man, which a few years ago would have made him a hero for life, becomes mere common-place, when it is but one of many thousands ; yet the spectacle of a great continent, through a region of one thou sand miles from north to south, being overrun with these adven- turous bands, cannot be pictured without the relation of many episodes of individual bravery and suffering. I will not attempt a full account of the emigration, but, as I have already given an outline of the stories of those who came by the Grila route, a simi- lar sketch of what those encountered who took the Northern roaie the great overland highway of the Continent will not be without its interest in this place. The great starting point for this route was Independence, Me , where thousands were encamped through the month of April, waiting until the grass should be sufficiently high for their cattle. before they ventured on the broad ocean of the Plains. From the first of May to the first of June, company after company took its departure from the frontier of civilization, till the emigrant trail from Fort Leavenworth, on the Missouri, to Fort Laramie, at the foot of the Kocky Mountains, was one long line of mule-trains and wagons. The rich meadows of the Nebraska, or Platte. were settled for the time, and a single traveler could have journeyed for the space of a thousand miles, as certain of his lodging and regular meals as if he were riding through the old agricultural districts 01 die Middle States. The wandering tribes of Indians on the Plains tho Pawnees, Sioux and Arapahoes were alarm sd and bewil- dered by this strange apparition. They believed they were about to be swept away forever from their hunting-grounds and graves THE CHOLERA Ofr THE PLAIN*. 288 As the season advanced and the great body of the emigrants got under way, they gradually withdrc *v from the \ Icinlty of the trail and betook themselves to grounds which the former did not reach All conflicts with them were this avoided, and the emigrants passed the Plains with perfect immunity from their thievish and hostile visitations. Another and more terrible scourge, however, was doomed to faH upon them. The cholera, ascending the Mississippi from Nen Orleans, reached St. Louis about the time of their departure from Independence, and overtook them before they were fairly embarked on the wilderness The frequent rains of the early spring, added to the hardship and exposure of their travel, prepared the way for its ravages, and the first three or four hundred miles of the trail were marked by graves. It is estimated that about four thousand persons perished from this cause. Men were seized without warn ing with the most violent symptoms, and instances occurred u which the sufferer was left to die alone by the road-side, while hi panic-stricken companions pushed forward, vainly trusting to get beyond the influence of the epidemic. Rough boards were plantec at the graves of those who were buried near the trail, but there a e hundreds of others lying unmarked by any memorial, on the bleak surface of the open plain and among the barren depths of the mountains. I have heard men tell how they have gone aside from thoii company to bury some old and cherished friend a brother, t may often have been performing the last rites alone and un aided, anr descents which followed, another plan was adopted. The wheels were all locked, and only one yoke of oxen left in front ; a middling- sized pine was then cut down, and the butt fastened to the axle-tree, the branchy top dragging on the earth. The holding back of the oxen, the sliding of the locked wheels, and the resist ance of the tree together formed an opposing power sufficient to admit of a slow descent ; but it was necessary to observe great cart lest the pace should be quickened, for the slightest start would ha^e overcome the resistance and given oxen, wagon and tree to- gether a momentum that would have landed them at the bottom if a very different condition. In August, before his departure for Oregon, Gen. Smith took the responsibility of ordering pack-mules and supplies to be pro- vided at the expense of Government, and gave Major Rucker orders to dispatch relief companies into the Great Basin to succor the emigrants who might be remaining there, for want of pro- nsions to advance further. In this step he was also warmly seconded by Gen. Riley, and the preparations were made with the .east possible delay. Public meetings of the citizens of San Fran eisco were also held, to contribute means of relief. Major Rucker dispatched a party with supplies and fresh animal? by way of the 28d ELDORADO. Trucieo River route to the Sink of Humboldt's River, while at took the expedition tc Pitt River and Lawson's Pass, under hi* own command. 1'be first party, after furnishing provisions on the road to all whom f ;iey found in need, reached the Sink, and started the families wboweie still encamped thre, returning with them by the Carson River route and bringing in the last of the emigration, only a day or two before the heavy snows came on, which entirety blocked up ihe passes But for this most timely aid, hundreds of persons must kav* perished by famine and cold Those who took the trail for Lawson's Pass fared even worse They had been grossly deceived with regard to the route, which, instead of being a nearer passage into California, is actually two hundred miles longer than the other routes, and though there is no ridge of equal height to be crossed, the amount of rough mountain travel is even greater. The trail, after crossing the Sierra by a low gap, (which has lately been mentioned in connection with the Pacific Railroad,) enters the Valley of Pitt River, one of the tributaries of the Upper Sacramento. Following the course of this river for about ninety miles, it reaches a spur of the Sierra Nevada, which runs from the head waters of Feather River to near the Shaste Peak, closing up the level of the lower Sacramento Valley. These mountains are from five to six thousand feet in height and rugged in the extreme, and over them the weary emu grant must pass before the Land of Promise the rich Valley of the Sacramento meets his view. At the time 1 returned to Sacramento City, Major Rucker had fust returned *rom his expedition. He found a large body of emigrants scattered along Pitt River, many of them entirety destitute of provisions and others without their animals, which the predatory Indians of that region had stolen Owing to th APATHY IN PERIL. 289 large number who required his assistance, he was obliged to re- turn to the ranches on Deer Creek and procure farther supplies, leaving Mr. Peoples to hurry them on meanwhile. Everything was done to hasten their movement, but a strange and unaccount- ble apathy seemed to have taken possession of them. The sea son was late, and a single day added to the time requisite to get them into the Sacramento Valley might prove ruinous to them and their assistants Whether the weary six months they passed in the wilderness had had the effect of destroying all their active energy and care for their own safety, or whether it was actual ignorance of their true situation and contempt of counsel because it seemed to wear the shape of authority, it is difficult to tell but the effect was equally dangerous. After having improvidently thrown away, in the first part of the journey, the supplies so need- ful afterwards, they now held fast to useless goods, and refused to lighten the loads of their tired oxen. But few of them appeared to have a sense of the aid which was rendered them ; instead of willingly cooperating with those who had charge of the relief party, they gave much unnecessary trouble and delayed the jour ney several days. Of the companies which came by this route several small parties struck into the mountains to the southward of Pitt River, hoping to find an easy road to the diggings on Feather River. Of these, )iue reached the river, after many days of suffering and danger ; others retraced their steps and by making desperate efforts re- gained the companies on Pitt River, while some, who had not been heard of at the time I left, were either locked up for the winter in the midst of terrible snows, 01 had already perished from hunger. I met with one or two who had been several days in the nountains without food, and only escaped death by a miracle. A 290 ELDOKADO. company of six, who set out on the hunt of some Indians who had stolen their cattle, never returned. It happened to the emigrants as Major Rucker had forewarned them. A letter from Mr. Peoples, which he received during my stay gave a most striking account of the hardships to which they had subjected themselves. A violent storm came on while they were crossing the mountains to Deer Creek, and the mules, unac- customed to the severe cold, sank down and died one after another. In spite of their remonstrances, Mr. Peoples obliged them to leave their wagons and hurry forward with the remaining animals. The women, who seemed to have far more energy and endurance than the men, were mounted on mules, and the whole party pushed on through the bleak passes of the mountains in the face of a raging storm. By extraordinary exertions, they were all finally brought into the Sacramento Valley, with the loss of many wagons and animals. On receiving this letter, Major Rucker set out for Law son's Ranche on Deer Creek, where he saw the emigrants com- fortably established for the winter. They had erected log-houses for shelter ; the flour supplied to them from the Government stores and cattle from the large herds on the neighboring ranches, fur nished them with the means of subsistence. The return to Sac- ramento City, in the depth of the rainy season, was an almost im possible undertaking. The greater part of those who came in by the lower routes, started, after a season of rest, for the mining region, where many of them arrived in tune to build themselves log huts for the winter Some pitched their tents along the river, to wait for the genial spring season ; while not a few took their axes and commenced the business of wood-cutting in the timber on its banks. Whea shipped to San Francisco, the wood, which they took with th* CLOSE OF THE EMIGRATION. 291 usual freedom of Uncle Sam's nephews, brought $40 a cord ; the jteamboats which called for it on their trips up and down, paid $15. By the end of December the last man of the overland com- panies was safe on the western side of the Sierra Nevada, and the great interior wilderness resumed its ancient silence and solitud* until the next spring. CHAPTER XXV1IL THE ITALY OF THE WEBT AT the end of a week of rain, during which we had a few de- ceptive gleams of clear weather, I gave up all hope of getting to the Yuba and Feather Rivers, and took my passage in the steamer Senator, for San Francisco. The time for leaving was before sun- rise, and the loud ringing of the first bell awoke me as I lay on mi Chinese quilt in Capt. Baker's store. The weather had changed during the night, and when I went out of doors I found a keen, cloudless dawn, with the wind blowing down the river. Had the three weeks of dry season, so confidently predicted by the old set- tlers, actually commenced ? I was not long in deliberating, though the remote chance of an opportunity for making my journey to the Shaste Peak, tempted me sorely ; but the end proved that I de- cided aright, for on the second day after my arrival at San Fran- cisco, the rains set in again worse than ever. The steamer, which formerly ran between Boston and Eastport, wua a strong, spacious and elegant boat. Notwithstanding the Ewe to San Francisco was $30, she rarely carried less than two hundred passengers. When I went on board, her decks were al- ready filled, and people were hurrying down from all parts of the town, her bell tolling meanwhile with the quick, incessant btrokl STEAM ON THE SACRAMENTO. 29S )f a Hudson River boat, one minute before the time of starting. After my recent barbaric life, her long upper saloon, with its sofas and faded carpet, seemed splendid enough for a palace. As \re eped down the Sacramento, and the well-known bell and sable herald made their appearance, requesting passengers to step to the Captain's office, I could scarcely believe that I was in California On the hurricane deck I met with several persons who had been fellow-passengers on the Atlantic and Pacific. Some had been to the head of the Sacramento Valley ; some on Feather River ; some again on the famous Trinity, where they had got more fevei than gold ; but all, though not alike successful, seemed energeti* and far from being discouraged. After passing the town of Sutter, the bell rang for breakfast, and having previously procured a ticket for two dollars, I joined the anxious throng who were pressing down the cabin stairs. The long tables were set below in the same style as at home ; the fare was abundant and well prepared ; even on the Hudson it would have given rise to tew grumblings. We steamed rapidly down the river, with Monte Diablo far before us. Owing to the twista and turns of the stream, it was but an uncertain landmark, now appearing on one side and now on the other. The cold snows of the Sierra Nevada were faintly seen in the eastern sky, but between the Sacramento and the mountains, the great plain stretched out in a sweep which to the north and south ran unbroken to the horizon. The banks, stripped now of their summer foliage, would have been dreary and monotonous, but for the tents and log-houses of the settlers and wood-cutters. I noticed in little spots where the thicket had been cleared away, patches of cabbages and othei flardy vegetables, which seemed to have a thrifty growth. \Ve came at last to the entrance of the slough, the navigation 294 ELDORADO Df which was a matter of considerable nicety. The current wu but a few feet wider than the steamer, and uany of the benda occasioned her considerable trouble. Her bow sometimes ran in among the boughs of the ti 3es, where she could not well be backed without her stern goiug into the opposite bank. Much time and part of the planking of her wheel-houses were lost in getting through these narrow straits. The small craft on their way up the river were obliged to run close under the limbs of the trees and hug the banks tightly until we had passed. At last we lame out again in the real Sacramento, avoiding the numerous jther sloughs which make off into the tule marshes, and soon reached the city of Montezuma, a solitary house on a sort of head land projecting into Suisun Bay and fronting its rival three-housf the sea at noonday. The first effect of the light was most wonderful ; the mountains stretched around the horizon like a belt of varying fire and amethyst between the two roseate deeps of air and water ; the shores were transmuted into solid, the air into fluid gems. Could the pencil faithfully represent this mag- nificent transfiguration of Nature, it would appear utterly unreal and impossible to eyes which never beheld the leality. It was no transient spectacle, fading away ere one could feel its surpassing glory. It lingered, and lingered, changing almost imperceptibly and with so beautiful a decay, that one lost himself in the enjoy- ment of each successive charm, without regret for those which 296 ELDORADO. were over. The dark blue of the mountains deepened into th*>n night-garb of dusky shadow without any interfusion of dead ashj color, and the heaven overhead was spangled with all its stars long before the brilliant arch of orange in the west had sunk below the horizon. I have seen the dazzling sunsets of the Mediterranean flush the beauty of its shores, and the mellow skies which Claude used to contemplate from the Pincian Hill ; but, lovely as they are in my memory, they seem cold and pale when I think of the splendor of such a scene, on the Bay of San Francisco. The approach to the city was very imposing in the dusk. The crowd of shipping, two or three miles in length, stretched along the water in front ; the triple crown of the hills behind was clearly marked against the sky, and from the broad space covered with sparkling lights, glimmerings of tents and white buildings, and the sounds of active life, I half believed that some metropolis of a century's growth lay before me. On landing, notwithstanding T had only been absent three weeks, I had some difficulty in recog- nizing localities. The change appeared greater than at any pre- vious arrival, on account of the removal of a great many of the old buildings and the erection of larger and more substantial edi- fices in their stead. After a few days of violent rain, the sky cleared and we had a week of the most delicious weather I ever experienced. The tem- perature was at no time lower than 50, and in the middle of the day rose to 70. When the floating gauze of mist had cleared ofl the water, the sky was without a cloud for the remainder of the day, and of a fresh tender blue, which was in exquisite relief to the pa^e green of the hills. To enjoy the delighful temperature and fine scenery of the Bay, I used frequently to climb a hill jus! in the rear of the town, whence the harbor, the strait into PabV A COMPANY CP WA8HMEX. 297 Bay, the Golden Gate and the horizon of the Pacific 3ould all tx seen at one view. On the top of the hill are the graves of several Russians, who came out in the service of the Kussian Company, each surmounted with a black cross, bearing an inscription in their language. All this ground, however, has been surveyed, staked into lots and sold, and at the same rate of growth the city will not be long in climbing the hill and disturbing the rest of the Musco- vites. Tn company with my friends, the Moores, I made many short excursions among the hills, during this charming season. Our most frequent trip was to Fresh Pond, in the neighborhood of the old Presidio. With a gray donkey an invaluable beast, by the way harnessed to a light cart, in which we had placed two or three empty barrels, we drove out to the place, a little basin shul in by the hills, and only divided by a narrow bushy ridge from thf waters of the G-olden Gate. Several tents were pitched on it* margin ; the washmen and gardeners had established themselves there and were diligently plying their respective occupations. A little strip of moist bottom adjoining the pond had been cleared of its thickets and was partly ploughed, showing a rich black loam. The washerwomen, of whom there were a few, principally Mexican* and Indians, had established themselves on one side of the pond and the washmen on another. The latter went into the business on a large scale, having their tents for ironing, their large kettles for boiling the clothes and their fluted wash-boards along the edge of the water. It was an amusing sight to see a great, burly, long- bearded fellow, kneeling on the ground, with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and rubbing a shirt on the board with such violence that the suds flew and the buttons, if there were any, most soon map off Their clear-starching an*. Boning were still more ludi- 298 ELDORADO. crous , but, notwithstanding, they succeeded fully as well as the women, and were rapidly growing rich from the profits of theii business. Where $8 a dozen is paid for washing clothes, it ia very easy to earn double the wages of a Member of Congress The sunsets we saw from the hills as we drove slowly back with the barrels filled, were all of the same gorgeous character. Tho air had a purity and sweetness which made the long hour of twi- light enchanting, and we frequently lingered on the road till after dark. We helped our patient donkey up the hill by pushing be- hind his cart an aid he seemed fully to appreciate, for he pulled it such times with much more spirit. He had many curious wayg ibout him, the most remarkable of which was his capacity for di- gestion. Cloth, canvas and shavings seemed as much his natural food as hay or green grass. Whenever he broke loose during tbe oight, which was not seldom, it was generally followed in the morning by a visit from some emigrant, claiming damages for the amount of tent-covering which had been chewed up. Once, in- leed, a man who had indulged rather freely in bad brandy, at wenty-five cents a glass, wandered in the dark to the place where v ihe donkey was tethered, lay down at his feet and fell asleep JVhen he awoke in the morning, sobered by the coolness of hia bed and foggy blankets, he found to his utter surprise and horror, that the ravenous beast had not only devoured his cap but cropped nearly all the hair from one side of his head ! As the man's hair happened to be glowing in color and coarse in texture, the mistake of the donkey in taking it to be swamp hay, is not so much to be wondered at. The valley about the Mission Dolores was charmingly greet and beautiful at this time. Several of the former miners, in an- ticipation of the great influx of emigrants into the country and A.K ATTEMPT AT SQUATTER UFK. 299 consequent market for vegetables, pitched their tents on the best spots along the Mission Creek, and began preparing the ground for gardens. The valley was surveyed and staked into lots almost to the summit of the mountains, and the operation of squatting iras performed even by many of the citizens of San Francisco, fo the purpose of obtaining titles to the land. Some gentlemen of mj acquaintance came into the possession of certain stone quarries, meadow lands and fine sheep-pastures, hi this manner ; where- apon a friend of mine, and myself, concluded to try the experiment, thinking the experience might, at least, be of some benefit. So, one fine morning we rode out to the Mission, where we found the surveyor on one of the hills, chopping up the chapparal into " hundred vara" lots. He received us cordially, and on looking over his map of the locality, found two adjoining lots of two hun- dred varas each, which were still unoccupied. They lay on tin western side of the Valley, on the slope of the mountains. We hastened away, crossed two yawning arroyos and climbed the steep where, truly enough, we found the stakes indicating the limits of the survey. I chose a little valley, scooped out between two peaks ot the ridge, and watered by a clear stream which trickled down through its centre. My friend took a broader tract, which was not so well watered as mine ; however, on examining the soil, we agreed that it would produce good crops of cabbages and turnips Accordingly, we marched leisurely over the ground, ascended to ita highest part, and took a seat on a boulder of gray rock, which stood exactly upon the line between our two territories. All the beautiful Valley lay beneath us, with the bay beyond, a part of the shipping of San Francisco, and Monte Diablo in the distance fine prospect for a squatter ! On our return to the city, we debated whether we shonld pro 300 ELL JRADO. cure materials for a tent and take up an abode on the lofty lots , but, as it was not at all clear that any land could be granted, or that it would be worth taking even if we should become bona fide settlers, we finally determined to let the matter rest. We did not repeat our visit, and we learned soon afterwards that violent dis- putes had arisen between the inhabitants of the Mission and the emigrants who had commenced gardening. I, who never owned a rood of land in my life, would nevertheless have accepted tho proprietorship of one of the bleak pinnacles of the Sierra Navada or better, the top of the Shaste Peak could it have been given me, for the mere satisfaction of feeling that there was one spot of the Earth which I might claim as my own, down to its burning centre. CHAPTER XXIX. 8AN FRANCISCO, FOUR MONTHS LATER. OF ail 1he marvellous phases of the history of the Present, the of San Francisco is the one which will most tax the belief of the Future. Its parallel was never known, and shall never be beheld again. I speak only of what I saw with my own eyes When I landed there, a little more than four months before, 1 found a scattering town of tents and canvas houses, with a show of frame buildings on one or two streets, and a population of about six thousand. Now, on my last visit, I saw around me an actual metropolis, displaying street after street of well-built edifices, filled with an active and enterprising people and exhibiting every mark of permanent co-nmercial prosperity. Then, the town was limited to the n urve of the Bay fronting the anchorage and bottoms of the hills. Now it stretched to the topmost heights, followed tho shore around point after point, and sending back a long arm through a gap in the hills, took hold of the Golden Gate and was building its warehouses on the open strait and almost fronting the blue horizon of the Pacific. Then, the gold-seeking sojourner lodged in muslin rooms and canvas garrets, with a philosophic lack of furniture, and ate his simple though substantial fare from pine boards. No^ lofty hotels, gaudy with verandas and bal- conies, were met with in all quarters, furnished with home luxury, .402 ELDORADO. and aristocratic restaurants presented daily their long bills of faro i rich with the choicest technicalities of the Parisian cuisine. Then, vessels were coming in day after day, to lie deserted and useless at their anchorage. Now scarce a day passed, but some cluster of sails, bound outward through the Golden Gate, took their way to .ill the corners of the Pacific. Like the magic seed of the Indian juggler, which grew, blossomed and bore fruit before the eyes o* his spectators, San Francisco seemed to have accomplished in a day the growth of half a century. When I first landed in California, bewildered and amazed by what seemed an unnatural standard of prices, I formed the opinion that there would be before long a great crash in specula- tion. Things, it appeared then, had reached the crisis, and it wa? pronounced impossible that they could remain stationary. This might have been a very natural idea at the time, but the subse quent course of afiairs proved it to be incorrect. Lands, rents <>oods and subsistence continued steadily to advance in cost, and as she credit system had been meanwhile prudently contracted, the character of the business done was the muio real and substantial. Two or three years will pass, in all probability, before there is a positive abatement of the standard of prices. There will be fluctuations in the meantime, occasioning gicat gains and losses, but the fall in rents and real estate, when it corned, as it inevitably must in the course of two or three years, will not be so crushing as I at first imagined. I doubt whether it will seriously injure the commercial activity of the place. Prices will never fall to the same standard as in the Atlantic States. F.riuiifc Wil always* be made by the sober, intelligent, industrious, aiid energetic ; but no one who is either too careless, too spiritless or too ignoiant to suc- ceed at home, need trouble himself about emigrating. The same ITEMS OF SPECULATION 308 general rule uolds good, as well here as elsewhere, and it is all the better for human nature that it is so. Not only was the heaviest part of the business conducted on cash principles, but all rents, even to lodgings in hotels, were required to be paid in advance. A single bowling-alley, in the basement story of the Ward House a new hotel on Portsmouth- Square prepaid $5,000 monthly. The firm of Findley, John- son & Co. sold their real estate, purchased a year previous, foi $20,000, at $300,000 ; $25,000 down, and the rest in monthly instalments of $12,500. This was a fair specimen of the specu lations daily made. Those on a lesser scale were frequently of a rery amusing character, but the claims on one's astonishment were so constant, that the faculty soon wore out, and the most unh^ard- )f operations were looked upon a ti ihased all the candle-wick to be found, at an average price of 10 ets. per lb., and sold it in a short time at $2 25 per lb A friend of mine expended $10,000 in purchasing barley, which ir week brought $20,000 The greatest gaina were still made by the gambling tables a^d the eating-houses. Every device that art could suggest was used to swell the custom of the former. The latter found abundant support in the neces- sities of a large floating population, in addition to the swarm 01 permanent residents. For a month or two p.evious fc. this time, money had been very scarce in the market, and from ten to fifteen per cent, monthly, wan uaid, with the addition of good security. Notwithstanding th 804 BLDORADO. quantity (jf coin brought into the country by emigrants, and th millions of gold dust used as currency, the actual specie basis iras very small compared with the immense amount of business transacted. Nevertheless, I heard of nothing like a failure ; the principal firms were prompt in all their dealings, and the chivalry of Commerce to use a new phrase was as faithfully observed as it could have been in the old marts of E ~rope ?nd America. The merchants had a 'Change and News-room, and were beginning to cooperate in their movements and consolidate their credit. A stock company which had built a long wharf at the foot of Sacra- ento-st. declared a dividend of ten per cent, within six weeks after tfie wharf was finished. During the muddy season, it was the only convenient place for landing goods, and as the cost of con- structing it was enormous, so were likewise the charges for wharf- age ana storage. There had been a vast impr jveL.-.ent in the msans of living once my previous visit to San Francisco. Several large hotel* had been opened, which were equal :n almost every respect to houses of the second class in the Atlantic cities. The Ward House, the Graham House, imported bod^y from Baltimore and the St. Francis Hotel, completely threw into the shade all former establishments. The rooms were furnished with comfort and even luxury, and the tables lacked few of the essentials of good living, 'ccording to a ' home' taste. The sleeping apartments of the St. Francis were the best in California. The cost of board and lodging was $150 per month which was considered unusually cheap. A room at the Ward House cost $250 monthly, without board. The principal restaurants charged $35 a week foi board, and there were lodging houses where a berth or " bunk' '--one out of fifty iu the same room might be had for $6 a weefe A CITY OF MEN. 305 The model of these establishments which were far from being '* model lodging-houses" was thafof a ship. A number of state- rooms, containing six berths each, ran around the sides of a large room, or cabin, where the lodgers resorted to read, write, smoke and drink at their leisure. The state-rooms were consequently filled with foul and unwholesome air, and the noises in the cabin prevented the passengers from sleeping, except between midnight and four o'clock. The great vai t of San Francisco was society. Think of a citj of thirty thousand inhabitants, peopled by men alone ! The like of this was never seen before. Every man was his own housekeeper doing, in many instances, his own sweeping, cooking, washing and mending. Many home-arts, learned rather by observation than experience, came conveniently into play. He who cannot make a bed, cook a beefsteak, or sew up his own rips and rents, is unfit to be a citizen of California. Nevertheless, since the town begat to assume a permanent shape, very many of the comforts of life in the East were attainable. A family may now live there with- out suffering any material privations ; and if every married man, who intends spending some time in California, would take hia family with him, a social influence would soon be created to whicb we might look for the happiest results. Towards the close of my stay, the city was as dismal a place M could well be imagined. The glimpse of bright, warm, serene weather passed away, leaving in its stead a raw, cheerless, south- east storm. The wind now and then blew a heavy gale, and th cold, steady fall of rain, was varied by claps of thunder and rad- den blasts of hail. The mud in the streets became little short of fathomless, and it was with difficulty that th( mules could drag their empty wagons through. A powerful London dray-horse, * 806 ELDORADO. eery giant in harness, was the only animal able to pull a good load ; and I was told that he earned his master $100 daily. I sav occasionally a company of Chinese workmen, carrying bricks and inortar, slung by ropes to long bamboo poles. The plank side- walks, in the lower part of the city, ran along the brink of pools and quicksands, which the Street Inspector and his men vainly en- deavored to fill by hauling cart-loads of chapparal and throwing sand on the top ; in a day or two the gulf was as deep as ever. The side-walks, which were made at the cost of $5 per foot, bridged over the worst spots, but I was frequently obliged to go the whole length of a block in order to get on the other side. One could not walk any distance, without getting at least ancle- deep, and although the thermometer rarely sank below 50, it was impossible to stand still for even a short time without a death-like chill taking hold of the feet. As a consequence of this, coughs and bronchial affections were innumerable. The universal custom of wearing the pantaloons inside the boots threatened to restore the knee-breeches of our grandfathers' tunes. Even women were obliged to shorten their skirts, and wear high-topped boots. The population seemed to be composed entirely of dismounted hussars, All this will be remedied when the city is two years older, and Portsmouth Square boasts a pave as elegant as that on the dollar side of Broadway. The severe weather occasioned a great deal of sickness, espe- cially among those who led an exposed life. The city overflowed with people, and notwithstanding buildings were continually grow- ing up like mushrooms, over night, hundreds who arrived wert obliged to lodge in tents, with which the summits of the hills were covered. Fever-and-ague and dysentery were the prevailing com- plaints, the great prevalence of which was owing undoubtedlv to WKVTER WEATHBfl 3Q7 exposure and an irregular habit of life. An association was form- 3d to relieve those in actual want, many of the wealthiest ana most influential citizens taking an honorable part io the matter Many instances of lamentable destitution were by this meani brought to light. Nearly all the hospitals of the place were soon filled, and numbers went to the Sandwich Islands to recroit. Th City Hospital, a large, well ventilated and regulated estar.hsh ment, contained about fifty patients. The attending physician described to me several cases of nearly hopeless lunacy which had come under his care, some of them produced by disappointment and ill-luck, and others by sudden increase of fortune. Poor human nature ! In the midst of the rains, ve were greeted one morning with a magnificent spectacle. The wind had blown furiously duriu" the night, with violent falls of rain, but the sun rose in a spotless sky, revealing the Coast Mountains across the bay wrapped in snow half-way down their sides For two days they wore their dazzling crown, which could be seen melting away hour by hour, from their ridges and cloven ravines. This was the only snow I saw while in San Francisco ; only once did I notice any appearance of frost. The grass was green and vigorous, and some of the more hardy plants in blossom ; vegetables, it is well known, flourish with equal luxuriance during the winter season. At one of the restaurants, I was shown some remarkable specimens of the growth of Califor- nia soil potatoes, weighing from one to five pounds each ; beets and turnips eight inches in diameter, and perfectly sweet and sound ; and large, silver-skinned onions, whose delicate flavor the most inveterate enemy of this honest vegetable could not but have relished. A gentleman who visited the port of Bodega, informed ne that he saw in the garden of Capt. Smith, the owner of tie 308 ELPORADO place, pea-vines which had produced their third ;rop from th same root in one summer. As the rains drove the deer and other animals down from the mountains, game of all kinds became abundant. Fat elks and splendid black-tailed does hung at the doors of all the butcher- shops, and wild geese, duck and brant, were brought into the uity by the wagon-load. " Grizzly bear steak," became a choice dish at the eating-houses ; I had the satisfaction one night of eating a slice of one that had weighed eleven hundred pounds The flesh was of a bright red color, very solid, sweet, and nutrv tious; its flavor was preferable to that of the best pork. Th* large native hare, a specimen of which occasionally found its way to the restaurants, is nowise inferior to that of Europe. As an illustration of the money which might be spent in procuring a meal no better than an ordinary hotel-dinner at home, I may mention that a dinner for fifteen persons, to which I was invited, at the " Excelsior," cost the giver of it $225 The effect of a growing prosperity and some little tasto of luxury was readily seen in the appearance of the business community of San Francisco. The slouched felt hats gave way to narrow-brim- med black beavers ; flannel shirts were laid aside, and white linen, though indifferently washed, appeared instead ; dress and frock coats, of the fashion of the previous year in the Atlantic side, came forth from trunks and sea-chests ; in short, a SaD Francisco merchant was almost as smooth and spruce in his out- ward appearance as a merchant anywhoro else. The hussar boot, however, was obliged to be worn, and a variation of the Mexican sombrero a very convenient and becoming head-piece jam e into fashion among the younger class. steamers which arrived at this time brought large quan SAN FRANCISCO NEWSPAPER*. 309 lilies of newspapers from all parts of the Atlantic States. The speculation which had been so successful at first, was completely overdone ; there was a glut in the market, in consequence whereof nowspnpers came down to fifty and twenty-five cents apiece. Th* leading journals of New-York, New-Orleans and Boston were cried ai every street-corner. The two papers established in the plac< issued editions " for f r>e Atlantic Coast/' at the sailing of every steamer for Panama. The offices were invaded by crowds of pur- chasers, and the slow hand-presses in use could not keep pace with tbe demand. The profits of these journals were almost in- credible, when contrasted with their size and the amount of their circulation. Neither of them failed to count their gains at the rate of $75,000 a year, clear profit. My preparations for leaving San Francisco, were made with the regret that I could not remain longer and see more of the won derful growth of the Empire of the West. Yet I was fortunate in witnessing the most peculiar and interesting stages of its pro- gress, anl I took my departure in the hope of returning at some future dav to view the completion of the ?e magnificent beginnings The world's history has no page so maryellcus as that which hat iust been turned in California. CHAPTER XXX. SOCIETY IN CALIFORNIA. THERE are some features of society in California, which I have hitherto fai'ed to touch upon in my narrative, but which deserve e passing notice before I take my final leave of that wonderful land The direct effect of the state of things growing out of the discovery of the placers, was to Develop new qualities and traits of character, not in single individua a but in every individual of the entire com- munity traits frequently most unlooked-for in those who exhibited them in the most marked degree. Society, ''erefore, was for tlio tune cas* into new forms, or, rather, deprive i of any fixed form. A man, on coming to California, could no more expect to retain his old nature unchanged, than he con. 1 :' -t&in in his lungs the ail he had inhaled on the Atlantic shore. The moot immediate an*? striking change which came upon the greater portion f we em'onnts was an increase of activity, and proportionately, of reckless and i'a-ing spirit. It was curious ec aec tow men hitherto noted for their prudence and caution tool; sudden leave of those qualities, to all appearance , yet only pros- pered the more thereby. Perhaps there was at bottom a vein of seen, shrewd calculation, which directed dieir seemingly heedless movements ; certain it is. at least, that for a long time the rasheet THE EMIGRANTS. 81) speculators were the most fortunate It was this fact, no doubt, that seemed BO alarming to persons newly- arrived, and gave rise to unnumbered predictions of the speedy and ruinous crash of the whole business fabric of San Francisco. But nothing- is more con- agious than this spirit of daring and independent action, and the most doleful prophets were, ere long, swallowed u; in the same whirlpool against which they had warned others. The emigrants who arrive in California, very toon divide into two distinct classes. About two-thirds, or possibly three-fourths of them are active, hopeful and industriors. They feel this sin gular intoxication of society, and go to work at something, no matter what, by which they hope to thrive. The remaining por tion see everything " through a glass, darkly." Their first bright anticipations are unrealized ; the horrid winds of San Francisco during the dry season, chill and unnerve tbem : or, if they go to the placers, the severe labor and the ill success of inexperienced hands, completes their disgust. They commit a multitude of sins in the shape of curses upon every one who has written or spoken favorably of California. Some of them return home without having seen the country at all, and others, even if they obtain profitable situations, labor without a will. It is no place for a slow, an over-cautious, or a despouding man The emigrant should be willing to work, not only at one business, but many, if need be , the grumbler or the idler had far better stay at home. It cannot be denied that the very activity of California society created a spirit of excitement which frequently led to dangerous excesses. The habits of the emigrants, never, even at home, very slow and deliberate, branched into all kinds of wild offshoots, the necessary effect of the sudden glow and expansion which they ex.- periencad Those who retained their health seemed to revel in an BlSi ELDORADO. exuberance ;f animal spirits, which carried them with scarce a jar over ban iers and obstacles that would have brought others to a full stand. There was something exceedingly hearty, cordial ana encouraging in the character of social intercourse. The ordinary forms of courtesy were flung aside with a bluntness of good-fel- lowship infinitely preferable, under the circumstances. I wai constantly reminded of the stories of Northern History of the stout Vikings and Jarls who exulted in their very passions and made their r eroes of those who were most jovial at the feast and most easily kindled with the rage of battle. Indeed, it required out little effort of the imagination to revive those iron ages, when the rugged gold-diggers, with their long hair and unshorn oeards, were grouped around some mountain camp-fire, revelling in the ruddy light and giving full play to a mirth so powerful and pro- found that it would not have shamed the Berserkers. The most common excesses into which the Californians run, are drinking and gambling. I say drinking, rather than drunkenness, for I saw very little of the latter. But a single case came under my observation while I was in the gold region. The man's friends took away his money and deposited it in the hands of the Alcalde, then tied him to a tree where they left him till he became sober. The practice of drinking, nevertheless, was widely prevalent, and its effects rendered more destructive by the large amount of bad liquor which was sent into the country. G-ambling, in spite of universal public sentiment against it, grew and flourished ; th disappointment and ruin of many emigrants were owing to its ex istence. The gamblers themselves were in many instances men who had led orderly and respectable lives at home. I have heard some of them frankly avow that nothing would induce them to ac- quaint tbeir friends and families with the nature of their occupa- THE ENERGIES OF CALIFORNIA 8..CIETT 31B aon , they would soon have enough, they said, and then they would wash their hands of the unclean stain, and go home to lead morp honorable lives. But alas ! it is not so easy to wash 3ut thi memory of self-degradation. If Lb.pse men have in truth any sea timent of honor remaining, ever/ coin of the wealth they have aoarded will awaken a shameful consciousness of ii;e base and un- manly business by whicn it was obtained In spite, however, of all these dissipating and disorganizing in- fluences, the main stock of society was sound, vigorous and pro- gressive. The rank shcots, while they might have slightly weak- ened the trmiK, only showed the abundant life of the root. ID short, without wishing to be understood as apologizing in any de- gree for the evils which existed, it was evident that had the Cali- fornians been more cool, grave and deliberate in their tempera- ment hfvd they lacked the fiery energy and impulsive spirit *hich pusted them irresistibly forward the dangers which sur- ounded them at the outset would have been far more imminent Besides, this energy did not run at random ; it was in the end directed by an enlightened experience, and that instinct of Right. which is the strength and security of a self-governed People. Hundreds of instances might be adduced to show that the worst passions of our nature were speedily developed in the air of Cali- fornia, but the one grand lesson of the settlement and organiza tion of the country is of a character that ennobles the race. T Je unanimity with which all united in this work the frank. ness with which the old prejudices of sect and party were dis claimed the freshly-awakened pride of country, which made every citizen jealously and disinterestedly anxious that she should Acquit herself honorably in the eyes of the Nation at large formed 3 spectacle which must claim our entire admiration. In view of 314 EI DORADO. ihe splendid future which is opening fcr California it insures hei a stable foundation on which to build the superstructure of her ealth and power. After what has been said, it wi. 1 appear natural that California should be the most democratic country in the world. The prac- tical equality of aL the members of a community, whatever might be the wealth, intelligence or profession of each, was never before thoroughly demonstrated. Dress was no guage cf respectability. and no honest occupation, however menial in its character, affect- ed a man's standing. Lawyers, physicians and ex-professors dug cellars, drove ox -teams, sawed wood and carried luggage ; while men who had been Army privates, sailors, cooks or day laborers were at the head of profitable establishments and not infrequently assisted in some of Jie minor details of Government. A man who would consider xiis fellow beneath him, on account of his ap- pearance or occupation, would have had some difficulty in living peaceally in California, ^he security of the country is owing, in no small degree, to this plain, practical development of what the French reverence as an abstraction, under the name of Prater nite To sum up all in three words, LABOR is RESPECTABLE: may it never be otherwise, while a grain of gold is left to glitter in Cali- fornian soil ' I have dwelt with the more earnestness on these features of Society because they do not seem to be fully appreciated on this side of the Continent. I cannot take leave, in the regular course of my narrative, of a land where I found so much it Nature tc admire and enjoy, without attempting to gi/e some general, though unpei feet view of Man, as he appeared undt.r those r.ew and won- derful influences. CHAPTER XXXL LEAVING SAN FRANCISCO. THE rainy season, by rendering further travel very unsatisfactory and laborious, if not impossible, put an end to my wanderings in California, which, in fact, had already extended beyond the period 1 had originally fixed for my stay. I was therefore anxious to set ou< on my homeward journey through Mexico, to which I looked for- ward with glowing anticipations. Rather than wait for the steamer of Jan. 1st., I decided to take one of the sailing packets up for Mazatlan, as the trip down the coast is usually made in from ten to fifteen days. The most promising chance was that of a Peru- vian brigautine belonging to a German house, which I was assured would sail on the 15th of December. A heavy gale coming up at the time put this out of the question. I waited until the 17th, when I went on board, determined to set foot no more in San Franciscan mud. The brigantine which bore the name of [quiquena, from the Peruvian port of Iquiqua was a small, rakish craft, built at the Island of Chiloe for a smuggler in the opium trade ; having been afterwards purchased by a house in Callao, she still retained the Peruvian colors. In her low, confined cabin, containing eight berths, which wen reached by a dark and crooked well, opening on tb/j deck near the radder, seven passengers were crowded Americans, Mexicans and Venezuelans besides the captain, mate, supercargo and steward who were Germans, as were likewise the greater part of the crew To complete the circle that met around our little table to discusH the invariable daily dinner of rice soup and boiled beef, I must not omit mentioning a Chinese dog, as eccentric in his behavior as the Celestials on shore. The captain and crew did nothing tc falsify the national reputation for tardiness and delay. In our case the poco tiempo of the Chagres boatmen was outdone. Seven iays were we doomed to spend in the Bay, before the almost hopeless conjunction of wind, tide, crew, passengers and vessel started us from our anchorage. On getting aboard, the captain declared everything to be in readiness, except the wood and water which would be forthcoming next day. Having some experience of German deliberation, I at once resigned myself to three days delay. The next day was stormy and rough ; on the second, tw< casks of water were brought on board ; the third was stormy ; th( wood was purchased on the fourth ; and on the fifth, the sailors quarreled about their pay and refused to go to sea. While we thus lay in the harbor, just inside the Riucon, trying TO bear with patience a delay so vexatious, one of the terrible south-east gales came on. The wind gradually rose through tho light, and its violence was heard and felt in the whistle of the rigging and the uneasy roll of our brigantine. When morning lawned, the sky was as gray and cold as an arch of granite, except towards the south-east, where a streak of dun light seemed (ike the opening through which the whole fury of the blaot wa^ poured upon the bay. The timbers of the shipping creaked as- they were tossed about by the lashed and driven waters ; the rig. ging hummod and roared till tlie ropes were ready to snap with 1 GALE AND A FIRE. 317 the violence of their vibrations. There was little rain accom panying the gale, but every drop stung like a shot Seen under a sky and through an atmosphere from which all sensation of lighl and warmth was gone, the town and hills of San Francisco appeared as if cast in bronze, so cold, dark, and severe were theii utlinea. The blackest thunder-gusts I ever saw, had nothing so savage and relentless in their expression. All day and night, having dragged our anchor and drifted on the shoals, we lay thumping heavily with every swell, while a large barque, with three anchors out, threatened to stave in our bows. Towards morning the rain increased, and in the same proportion the gale abated. During its prevalence five or six vessels were injured, and two or three entirely lost. The sailors having been pacified, the supercargo taken on board, and the brig declared ready for sea, we were detained another day on account of the anchor sticking fast in the mud, and still anothei through lack of a favorable wind. Finally, on the eighth day after going on board, the brig was warped through the crowded vessels, and took the first of the ebb tide, with a light breeze, t* run out of the harbor. I went on deck, in the misty daybreak, to take a parting lool* at the town and its amphitheatric hills. As I turned my ta Reyes, and again driven down the coast as far, on the other side oi the entrance What our brig gained in tacking, she lost in lee- way, and as the rudder hung by a single pintle, she minded her helm badly. On the afternoon of the third day we were becalmed, but drifted into the entrance of the Gate with the flood-tide, in company with fifteen vessels, that had been waiting outside. A light southern breeze springing up, enabled us to reach the an- chorage west of Clark's Point in the night ; so that next morning, after landing on the beach and walking through a inilo of deep tnud, I was once more in San Francisco. I hastened immediately to Portsmouth Square, the scene of the conflagration. All its eastern front, with the exception of the Delmonico Restaurant at the corner of Clay-st. was gone, together with the entire side of the block, on Washington-st. The Eldo- rado, Parker House, Denison's Exchange and the United State* 320 ELDORADO Coffee House forming, collectively, the great rendezvous of the city, where everybody could be found at some time of the day were among the things that had been. The fronts of the Veran- dah, Aguila de Oro, and other hells on Washington-st. were blackened and charred from the intense heat to which they were subjected, and from many of the buildings still hung the blankets by means of which they were saved. Three days only had elapsed since the fire, yet in that time all the rubbish had been cleared away, and the frames of several houses were half raised. All over the burnt space sounded one incessant tumult of hammers, axe? and saws. In one week after the fire, the Eldorado and Denison'* Exchange stood completely roofed and weatherboarded, and would soon be ready for occupation. The Parker House was to be re- built of brick, and the timbers of the basement floor were already .aid. The Exchange had been contracted for at $15,000, to be finished in two weeks, under penalty of forfeiting $150 for every additional day. In three weeks from the date of the fire, it was calculated that all the buildings destroyed would be replaced by new ones, of better construction. The loss by the conflagration was estimated at $1,500,000 an immense sum, when the number and character of the buildings destroyed, is considered. This did not include the loss in a business way, which was probably $500,000 more. The general business of the place, however, had not been injured. The smaller gambling hells around and near Portsmouth Square were doing a good business, now that the head-quarters of the profession were destroyed. Notwithstanding there was no air stirring at the time, the pro gress of the fire, as described by those who were on the spot, had something terrific in its character. The canvas partitions of roomi shrivelled away like paper in the breath of the flames, and the drj INCIDENTS OP THE .WFLAGRAT1ON 323 resinous wood of the outer walls radiated a heat so intense thai houses at some distance were obliged to be kept wet to prevent their ignition. Nothing but the prompt measures of the city au- thorities and a plentiful supply of blankets in the adjacent stores, saved all the lower part of the city from being swept away. The houses in the path of the flames were either blown up or felled like trees, by cutting off the ground tirnbars with axes, and pulling over the structure with ropes fastened to the roof. The Spanish merchants on Washington street, and others living in adobe louses in the rear, were completely stupified by the danger, and refused to have their buildings blown up. No one listened t them, and five minutes afterwards, adobes, timbers and merchan dize went into the air together. A very few persons, out of the thousands present, did the worl of arresting the flames. At the time of the most extreme danger hundreds of idle spectators refused to lend a hand, unless the) were paid enormous wages. One of the principal merchants, I etween us. Several large boats, manned by four and six oars- men were struggling in the midst of the current, and borne away in spite of themselves. One of my men was discouraged, and wanted to turn back, but there was a majority against him. I took good hold of the tiller-ropes, the men stripped to their flan nel shirts, planted their feet firmly against the ribs of the boat, and we dashed into the teeth of the tide. We were thrown and tossed about like a toy ; the spray flew over us, and the strongest efforts of the men did not seem to move us an innh. After hal A PULL FOR THE STEAMER. 323 an hour of hard work, during which we continually losl groand we came alongside of a vessel and made fast. At least a dozen other craft could be seen struggling out after us, but they all fell away, some of them drifting two or three miles before they could make a halt. We lay for nearly two hours, waiting for the height of the ebb to pass, but the flood still foamed and rushed, dashing against the prows of vessels and boiling around their sterns, with an incessant roar. At last, another boat with two passengers came down upon us in the darkness ; we joined crews, leaving one of the boats behind, and set out again with four oars. It was pitchy dark, with a rain dashing in our faces. We kept on, to- wards the light of the steamer, gaining about a yard a minute, till we reached her lee gangway. I unrolled my blankets and put in a preemption claim for one md of the cabin-table. Several other berthless persons occupied ihe benches on either hand and the iron grating below, which printed their sides like a checker-board ; and so we passed the night The last boat-loads came out in the morning ; the parting gun echoed back from the Island of Yerba Buena ; the paddles moved ; San Francisco slid away from us, and the Golden Gate opened igain ; the swells of the Pacific rolled forward to meet us ; the ^oast wheeled around and fronted our larboard side ; rain and fog were behind us, and a speck of clear blue far ahead and so we sped southward, to the tropics, and homeward ! The Oregon's freight, both of gold and passengers, was th* most important which had ever left San Francisco. Of the for- mer, we had about two millions of dollars on board ; of the latter, the Congressni3n and Senators elect, Col. Fremont, Dr. Gwin, Gilbert and Wright, together with a .score of the prominent merchants and moneyed men of San Francisco, and several officers 324 riLDORADO of the Army and Navy. Mr. Butler King was returning from his survey of the country ; Major Rucker, whom I have already mentioned in connection with the overland emigration, and Major Cross, recently from Oregon, were also on board. The character of our little community was very different from that which came up on the Panama ; the steamer was under better regulations, and at meal-time, especially, there was no disgraceful exhibition of (for want of a better word) swinishness, such as I witnessed on the former boat. We had a mild and spring-like temperature during the trip, and blue skies, after doubling Cape Conception. We touched at Santa Barbara on the third morning out. The night had been foggy, and we ran astray in the channel between the Island of Santa Rosa and the mainland, making the coast about twenty -five miles south of the town. I did not regret this, as it gave me an opportunity of seeing the point where the Coast Moun- tains come down to the sea, forming a narrow pass, which can only be traveled at low tide, between the precipice and the surf. It is generally known as the Rincon, or Corner a common Spanish term for the jutting end of a mountain ; in a Californian ballad (written before seeing the country,) I had made it the scene of an imaginary incident, giving the name of Paso del Mar the Pass of the Sea to the spot. I was delighted to find so near a corre epondence between its crags of black rock, its breakers and reaches of spray-wet sand, and the previous picture in my imagination. The village of Santa Barbara is charmingly situated, on a warm slope above the roadstead, down to which stretch its fields of whea and barley. Behind it, on a shelf of the mountain, stands the Mission, or Episcopal Residence of Santa Barbara, its white arched corridors and tall square towers brightly relieved against the pine forests in the distance. Above and beyond all, the Mouo VOYAGE DOWN THE COAST. 325 tain of Santa Ynez lifts its bold and sterile ramparts, like ar unscaleable barrier against the inland. "We lay-to in the road for several hours, shipping supplies. Tht shore was so near that we could watch the vaqueros. as they gal- loped among the herds and flung their lariats over the horns of the doomed beeves. An immense whale lay stranded on the beacb like the hull of some unlucky vessel. As we steamed down the coast, in the afternoon, we had a magnificent view of the snowy range which divides the rich vine-land of Los Angeles from the Tulare Plains. At daybreak the next morning we were in the harbor of San Diego, which was little changed since my visit in August ; the hills were somewhat greener, and there were a few more tents pitched around the hide-houses. Thence away and down the rugged Peninsula past the Bay of Sebastian Viscaino, the headland of San Lorenzo and the white deserts of sand that stretch far inland around the jagged pyramids and hollow caverns of Cape San Lucas beyond the dioramic glimpse of San Jose, and into the mouth of the Californian Gulf, where we were struck aback by a norther that strained our vessel's sinews and troubled the stomachs of the passengers. The next morning we groped about in the dark, hearing a breaker here and seeing a rock there, but the captain at last hit upon the right clue and ran us out of the maze into a gush of dazzling sunshine and tropic heat, which lay upon the islands and palmy shores of Mazatlan Harbor. CHAPTER XXXIL MAZATLAN. I TOOK leave of my friends and mess-mates, receiving many gloomy predictions and warnings of danger from the most of them, and went ashore with the captain, in the ship's boat. The water is very shallow, from within a mile of the landing, and abounds writh rocks which rise nearly to the surface. Two of these are called The Turtles, from an incident which is told at the expense of an officer of the British Navy. He had just reached Mazatlan, and on his first visit to the shore, knowing that the waters con- tained turtle, had provided himself with rope and harpoon, and took his station in the bow of the boat. The men rowed for some time without interruption, but suddenly, at a whisper from the officer, backed their oars and awaited the throw. The har- poon was swung quickly to give it impetus ; the water flew as it descended; " hit !" shouted the officer. And it was hit so hard that the harpoon banged back again from the round face of th rock. We landed on the beach, where we were instantly surroundeo with the peons of the Custom House, in white shirts and panta- loons. The baggage was carried under the portico of an adobe house opposite the landing, where it was watched by one of tba tfficials. Mr Mott, of Mazatlan, who came passenger in t he Ore- A CHINESE BONIFACE. 327 gon, \\-as well-known to all the authorities of the place, and 1 found, after losing much time in getting a permit to have my lug gage passed, that it had all been sent to his house without ex- amination. My next care was to find a lodging-place. There was the meson, a sort of native caravanserai; the Ballo de Oro, (Golden Ball,) a tavern after the Mexican fashion, which is comfortless enough ; and finally the Fonda de Canton, a Chinese hotel, kept by Luen-Sing, one of the most portly and dignified of all the Celestials. His broad face, nearly equal in circumference to the gong which Chin-Ling, the waiter, beat three times a day at the door, beamed with a paternal regard for his customers. flis oblique eyes, in spite of all their twinklings after the main chance, looked a good-natured content, and his capacious girth dpoke too well of fat living to admit of a doubt about the quality tf his table. There was no resisting the attractions of Luen- Sing's hotel, as advertised in his own person, and thither, accord- ingly, I went. The place was overrun by our passengers, who nearly exhausted the supplies of eggs, milk and vegetables in the market. The Fonda de Canton was thronged ; all the rooms were filled with tables, and gay groups, like children enjoying a holiday, were clus- tered in the palm-shaded court-yard. Chin-Ling could not half perform the commands ; he was called from every side and scolded by everybody, but nothing could relax the gravity of his queer yellow face. The sun was intensely hot until near evening, and I made myself quite feverish by running after luggage, permits and passports. I was not sorry when the gun of the steamer, at dusk, signalized her departure, and I was left to the company and hos- pitalities of my friend Luen-Sing. After the monte players had elosed their bank in one of the rooms and the customers had with- ELDORADO. drawn, Chin-Ling carried in a small cot and made me a very good bed, on which I slept nearly as soundly as if it had been soft plank. I took a ramble about the city in the clear coolness of the morn- ing. Its situation is very peculiar and beautiful. Built at tho foot of a bold hill, it stands on the neck of a rocky, volcanic headland, fronting the sea on each side, so that part of the city looks up the Californian Gulf and part down the coast towards San Bias The houses are stone, of a white, pink or cream-color, with heavy wcbed entrances and cool court-yards within. The contrast oi their clear, bright fronts, with the feathery tops of the cocoa-palm, seen under a cLzzling sky, gives the city a rich oriental character, reminding me of descriptions of Smyrna. The houses are mostly a single story in height, but in the principal street there are several magnificent buildings of two stories, with massive cornices and large balconied windows. The streets are clean and cheerful, and the principal shops are as large, showy and tastefully arranged a? those of Paris or New York. At night, especially, when they are brilliantly lighted and all the doors and windows are opened, dis- playing the gaudy shawls, scarfs and sarapes within ; when the whole population is out to enjoy the pleasant air, the men in theii white shirts and the women in their bewitching rebosas ; when some native band is playing, just far enough distant to drown the discordance ; when the paper lanterns of the fruit-vendors gleam at every corner, and the aristocratic sefloritas smoke their paper sigars in the balconies above Mazatlan is decidedly the gayest and liveliest little city on the Continent. But I was speaking of my morning stroll. The sun was already shining hotly in the streets, and the mellow roar of the surf on th< northern side of the promontory tempted my steps in that direo THE AlkOSPHERE OF THE CALIFoRMAN GULF. 329 don. I threaded the narrow alleys in the suburbs of the town lined with cactus hedges, behind which stood the thatched bamboo huts of the natives, exactly similar to those on the Isthmus Q-angs of men, naked to the waist, were at work, carrying on their heads large faggots of dye-wood, with which some of the vessels in the harbor were being freighted. I reached a shaded cove among the rocks, where I sat and looked out on the dark-blue expansi of the G-ulf. The air was as transparent as crystal and the breakers rolled in with foam and delightful freshness, to bathe the shelly sand at my feet. Three craggy islands off the shore looked to be within gunshot, owing to the purity of the atmosphere, yet their scarred sides and ragged crests were clothed in the purple oi distance. The region about the mouth of the Gulf of California enjoys an unvarying clearness of climate, to which there is pro- bably no parallel on the earth. At Cape San Lucas, the rising and setting of a star is manifest to the naked eye. Two or three years frequently pass without a drop of rain. There is, however, a season of about a week's duration, occurring in some of the winter months, when the soil is kept continually moist from the atmosphere. Not a cloud is to be seen ; the sun is apparently a/ bright as ever ; yet a fine, gauzy film of moisture pervades the air, settles gradually on the surface of the earth and performs the ser- vice of rain. I saw an interesting picture one evening, in front of the Theatre A large band was stationed near the door, where they performed waltzes and polkas in excellent style an idea no doubt derived from " Scudder's Balcony" or the gambling-hells of San Francisco It had the effect, at least, to draw a dense crowd of the lower orders to the place, aud increase the business of the traders in tYuite and drinks. A military band, of trumpets alone, marched 830 ELDORADO np and down the principal street, blowing long blasts of piercing sound that affected one like the shock of an electro-galvanic bat tery. Soldiers were grouped around the door of the Theatre, with stacked arms, and the tables of dealers in fruit and provisions were anged along the walls. Over their braziers of charcoal simmered the pans of manteca, (lard, ) near which stood piles of tortillas and disL.es of fowl mixed with chili Colorado, ready to be served up at a medio the plate. Bundles of sugar-cane were heaped upon the ground, and oranges, bananas, and other fruits spread upon maid beside which their owners sat. There were tables covered with porous earthern jars, containing cool and refreshing drinks made of orange juice, cocoa milk, barley flour, and other wholesome in- gredients. The market-place presents a most picturesque appearance, whether by day or night. It is a small square, on the steep side of the hill, reached by narrow alleys, in which are to be found all the articles most in demand by the lower classes earthenware after the old Aztec fashion, flaming calicoes, sarapes, rebosas and broad Guayaquil sombreros. The place is filled with square, umbrella-like stands or canopies of palm-leaves, under which are spread on the ground all kinds of vegetables, fruit and grain that grow in the vicinity, to be had at low prices. Among the fruits I noticed a plump green berry, with a taste like a strawberry and gooseberry combined ; they were called by the natives, areUann At night, the square was lighted by flaring lamj s or torches of gome resinous wood. The proximity of California had increased in a striking manner the growth and activity of Mazatlan. Houses were going up in ill parts of the towns, and the prices of articles in the shops wen little below the San Francisco standard. At a tailoring establish PREPARING TO START. 33] ment I was asked $20 for a pair of Mexican calzoncros, and $25 for a cloth traveling jacket sums entirely above my reach. I purchased a good Panama hat for $5, and retaining my suit of corduroy and shirt of blue flannel, set about hunting for a mule There were about fifty emigrants in the place, who had come in a few days previous, from Durango ; but their animals had all been disposed of to the Mexican traders, at very low prices. I was di- rected to the meson, where I found a number for sale, in the cor- ral. The owners offered to sell me a calallo sillado fa saddled and bridled horse) for $100, or a tolerable mule for $80, but seemed to think I would prefer &fri$one y (an American horse,) ai $100, unsaddled. After riding a number of mules around the corral, I made choice of a small brown one, for which $45 was asked, but which I obtained for $30. One of the emigrants sold me his saddle and bridle for $5 ; I added a good lariat and blanket, and was thoroughly equipped for the journey. It now remained to have my passport arranged, for which the signature of the President of the City Council was requisite. After a great deal of search, I found the proper place, where a sort ol Alcalde, who was settling a dispute between two Indians, wrote a visto, and directed me to call on the President, Don Luis Abioli. This second visit cost me several hours, but at last I succeeded ir discovering Don Luis, who was busily engaged behind the counter of his grocery store, in a little building near the market-place. He stopped weighing sugar to affix his signature to the passport, received my " mil gracias /" with a profound bow and turned again to his customers. The emigrants expressed great astonishment at my fool-hardi- ness, as they termed it, in undertaking the journey through to Cruz. These men, some of whom had come overland from 332 ELDOF.ADO Chihuahua nd some from Matamoras, ui&ated most strenuouslj that I should not start alone. The Mexicans, they said, were robbors, to a man ; one's life, even, was not safe among them, and their bitter hostility to Americans would subject me to continual insult. " Would you believe it ?" said a tall, raw-boned Yankee ; " they actually rocked us !" This gentle proceeding, I found, on farther inquiry, had been occasioned by the emigrants breaking their contract with their guide. I therefore determined to follow the plan I had adopted in California, and to believe nothing that I had not seen with my own eyes. " I've traveled in the country and I know all about it," was the remark with which I was con- stantly greeted ; " you'll very soon find that I was right." To escape from the annoyance of these counsels and warnings, I has- tened my preparations, and was ready for departure on the second morning after my arrival. Luen-Sing, who had traveled over the road once, as far as Te- pic, told me I should find it toilsome but safe. The Celestials assisted me in packing my scanty luggage behind the saddle, and enjoined on me the promise of patronizing the Fonda de Cantvi, : when I returned to Mazatlan. I took my final cup of chocolMf on the old table in the corridor, had a last talk with Chin-Lrup about the gold-diggings, shook hands with the whole yellow-fa ?ed, long-eyed crew, mounted my mule and started up the main street, in the breathless heat of a noonday sun. I doubled the corner oi the hill, passing the Plaza de Toros, (an arena for bull-fights,) and the scattering huts of the suburbs, till I reached the garita, near the sea. Here, an officer of the customs, who was lounging in the shade, pointed out the road to the old Presidio of Mazatlan, which I took, feeling very warm, very lonely and a little dispirited vt the ride of twelve hundred miles which lay before roe, CHAPTER TRAVEL IN THE TIERRA CALIENTE. IT was a cloudless noon. The sun burned down on the sand and quivering sea, and the three islands in the Gulf seemed vitri- fying in the blue heat of the air. Riding slowly down to the arid level of a dried-up marsh, over which my path lay, I met an arri- ero, of whom I asked the distance to the Presidio. " No Ihga i0^>" said he ; " la mula no anda nada ; es muy flojo " (You'll not jet there to-day ; your mule don't go at all ; " he's very lazy.") My heart misgave me for a moment, for his criticism of the mule was true ; but, seeing that my spur had as yet drawn no blood, I broke a stick from the thicket and belabored him with hand and Coot. I passed a few plantations, with fenced fields, near the town, and afterwards took to the sandy chapparal near the sea. The foliage of a tropical winter, on this coast, is not very attrac- tive. There is a season when the growth is suspended when the bud closes, the leaf falls and the bough gathers sap for a long time of splendid bloom. Only the glossy green of the lemon, mango *nd sycamore remains ; the rest of the wood takes a grayish cast from its many half-clothed boughs, among which rise the strange, gloomy pillars of the cereus giganteus, often more than forty feet in height. After making the circuit of a spacious bay I came to 834 ELDORADO. a cluster of fishing huts on the shore, about three leagues from Mazatlan. Beyond these the road turned among low hills, covered with the gray, wintry woods, as far as eye could reach. Gaudy parrots flew screaming among the boughs ; large brown birds, with hooked bills sat musing by the road, and in the shady spots, 1 heard the tender coo of the dove the sweet emblem of peace and domestic affection, to which no clime is alien which haunts all lands and all zones, where beats the human heart whose softer emotions it typifies. I was toiling along in the heat, torturing my conscience as much as the mule's flanks, when a couple of rancheros, riding behind me, came up with a good-humored greeting and proposed joining company. The foremost, a merry old native, of mixed blood, commenced using his whip on ~my mule's back and I soon found that the latter could keep up a sharp trot for an hour, without trouble. Thanks to my self-constituted mozo, I reached the banks of the Rio Mazatlan, opposite the Presidio, two hours be- fore sunset. The old man invited me to pass the night at his ranche, which was near to hand, and I willingly complied. He turned his own beast loose, and started to a neighbori)ig ranche, for an armful of oja (the fodder of maize ) for my mule. Mean- while, I walked down to the river, to refresh myself with a bath. The beauty of the scene kept me from the water for a long time On the opposite bank the old walls of the Presidio towered above the trees ; the valley, stretching away to the eastward, to a far-ofl line of mountains, out of a notch in which the river found its iray, was spotted with plantations of maize, bananas and melons. The rancheros were out at work, ploughing atd sowing their grain. The fervor of the day was over, and a warm, tempered light was poured over the landscape. As I lay clasped in th TWILIGHT CHAT, AT A RANHE. 335 wft-flowing crystal of the river, the thought of another bath, on that very day four years before, came suddenly into my mind. It was my birth-day ; but on that other anniversary I had baptized my limbs in the sparkling surf of the Mediterranean, on the shore f the Roman Campagna. I went back to the ranche with that ensation of half-pain, half-joy which we feel when the mind and body are in different places. My mule was fed and the old man gave me a dish of frijoles, with three tortillas in lieu of knife and fork. Then we sat down in the dolicious twilight, amid the beautiful repose of Nature, and I answered, as well as I could, the questions prompted by then simple curiosity. I told them about my country and its climate, aad the long journey I must yet make to reach it, which they heard with evident interest and wonder. They were anxious to know how a steamboat could move against the wind, for they had been told this was the case, by their friends in Mazatlan. The nearest idea of it which I could give them, was by describing it as a sea-cart, with broad wheels rolling on the water. At last the twilight deepened into night, and I unrolled my blankets to make my bed. " You must sleep to-night en el sertno," said the old oaan ; and a beautiful, star-lit Serena it was. " Ah," said his wife, " what fine blankets ! you will sleep better than the Arch bishop !" They then went to their hammocks in the hut, and I lay down on the earth, thanking God that the dismal forebodings which accompanied me out of Mazatlan had been so happily falsi- fied. My kind host asked nothing in payment, when I saddled in the morning, but I insisted on giving him a trifle. " Vaya con Dios .'" said he, as we shook hands, " and if you go to California me a little piece of gold when you come back." I forde early dawn shone through the cracks of ths door. Leaving Escuinapa, a day's journey of fifty miles lay before me, through au uninhabited country. I doubted the powers of my camivtndor , but determined to let him have a fair trial ; so I gave him a good feed of corn, drank a cup of chocolate, slung a pine- apple to my saddle-bow, and rode out of the village in the morning lusk. At first the trail led through pleasant, woods, with here and here a ranche, but diverging more and mort to the east, it finally same out on a sandy plain bordering the leagues of salt marsh oil the side towards the sea. On the left the mountain chain of the Sierra Madre rose high and abrupt, showing in its natural but- tresses and ramparts of rock a strong resemblance to the peaks of the Gila country. A spur of the chain ran out towards the sea, far in front, like the headland of a bay. The wide extent of salt marsh reaching from near El Rosario to La Bayona a distance of seventy-five miles, showed the same recession of the Pacific, as I had already observed at Panama and Monterey. The ancient sea-margins may still be traced along the foot of the mountains. I jogged steadily onward from sunrise till blazing noon, when, having accomplished about half the journey, I stopped under a palm-tree and let my horse crop a little grass, while I refreshed myself with the pine-apple. Not far off thoro was a single ranche RIDE TO LA BATONA. 343 called Piedra Gorda a forlorn-looking place, where 3ne cannot remain long without being tortured by the sand-flies Beyond it, there is a natural dome of rock, twice the size of St. Peters, cap ping an i.-olated mountain. The broad intervals of meadow be- tween the wastes of sand were covered with groves of the beautiful fun-palm, lifting their tufted tops against the pale violet of tho disl ml mountains. In lightness, grace and exquisite symmetry, the Palm is a perfect type of the rare and sensuous expression of Beauty in the South. The first sight of the tree had nearly charmed me into disloyalty to my native Pine ; but when the wind blew, and I heard the sharp, dry, metallic rustle of its leaves, I retained the old allegiance. The truest interpreter of Beauty is in the voice, and no tree has a voice like the Pine, modulated to a rythmic accord with the subtlest flow of Fancy, touched with a human sympathy for the expression of Hope and Love and Sor- row, and sounding in an awful undertone, to the darkest excess of Passion. Making the circuit of the bay, the road finally doubled the last mountain-cape, and plunged into dark green thickets, fragrant with blossoms. I pushed on hour after hour, the pace of my cam- inador gradually becoming slower, and sunset approached without any sign of "Bayona's hold." Two Indians, mounted on small horses, came down by a winding trail from the hills, and rode a little in advance of me. " No tiene uste miedo dt viajar solo ?" ( Aie jou not afraid to travel alone ?) said one of them. " What should I be afraid of?" I asked in return. " The robbers." "I should like to see them ;" I said. " Tiene muclio valor," remarked one to the other. They then spoke of my tired horse, nd looked admiringly at my blankets, asking me first to make a gift of them, then to sell them, and, finally, to let them cam 844 ELDORADO. them behind their own saddles. I refused them very decidedly and they trotted in advance. At the next bend of the road, however, I saw through the trees that they waited till I nearly overtook them, when they slowly moved forward. The repetition of this roused my suspicions ; taking off a heavy pair of gloves, 1 pulled out my pistol, pat on a fresh cap, and kept it in my right hand. I believe they must have been watching my motions, for, instead of waiting as usual, they dashed off suddenly at a gallop. The sun went down ; the twilight faded, and the column of the zodiacal light shortened to the horizon, as I walked behind my caminador, looking for La Bayona. At last I came to a river, with two or three ranches on its banks ; in front of them was a large fire, with several men standing about it. One of them offered to accompany me to the town, which was near. On the way, he expatiated on the great number of rabbits in the neighbor- hood, and lamented that he had no powder to shoot them, winding up with : " Perhaps, Senor, you might give me a little ; you can easily buy more when you reach Acaponeta." I poured out hall the contents of my flask into a corner of his shirt, which he held up to receive it ; he then pointed out the fording-place, and ] crossed to La Bayona, where my poor horse had rest and good feed after his hard day's journey. There was a dirty little meson in the place, a bare room. In which was given me for two reales, nd a supper of tortillas and frijoles for a medio (6J cents. ) The landlord and one of his friends talked with me a long while about the United States. " Tell me," said the latter, " is ft true what Don Carlos, an American that was here last spring, told me that there is a machine in your country in which yon look at the moon, and it seems to be twenty feet long ?" 1 assured him it was perfectly true, for I had often seen the moon MEXICAN ANTICIPATIONS. 345 ba it. " Is t t also true," he continued, " that in the United States a man pays only one dollar a year, and sends all his chil drcn to school for nothing ? and, then, when they have gon<> twelve years to school, they are fit for any business : Ah, how grand that is ! how much better than here ! Now, I do not know bow to read at all. Why is it tha v everything is so fortunate in the United States r" " Because," said the other, " it is a uation muy podirosa." "I have heard that there are several millions of people in it." "That is tru3," rejoined the other, " and that is the reason why all the Americans we see are so much wiser than we arc." I was deeply i0*ercsted in their naive remarks. In fact, not only here, but throughout all western Mexico, I found none of the hostility to Americans which had been predicted for me, but on the reverse, a decided partiality In speaking of us, the natives exhibited (and I say it not with any feeling of national pride,) the liking which men bear to theii superiors. They acknowledged our greater power and intelligence as a nation, without jealousy, and with an anticipation rather than a fear, that our rule will one day be extended over them. The next morning I rode to Acaponeta, four leagues distant, by a pleasant road over low hills. The scenery was highly picturesque , the town lies in the lap of a wide valley, nearly encircled by moun- tains which rise one above another, the farthest st : ll the highest, ike the seats in an amphitheatre. Their sides are cloven by cmcndous chasms and ravines, whose gloom is concfnled by per- petual verdure, but the walls of white rock, dropping sheer down many hundreds of feet from the summit, stand out distinctly in the vaporlcss atmosphere. Except the church and a few low *dobe buildings around the plaza, Acaponsta is formed entirely oi fane huts I stopped at tie Meson- del Angel, gave a basket of 346 ELDORADO. corn to my horse, and ordered eggs, beefsteak, and chocolate foi breakfast. The cocinera and her daughter were two hours in pre paring it, and meanwhile I sat in the shade of an orange tree, be side a cool well in the court-yard. The women were very talka- tive, and amused themselves greatly with my bad Spanish. The laughter was preparing a quantity of empty egg-shells for the Carnival, by filling them with finely-minced paper of different colors and sealing the ends again. In order to show me how these were used, they bade me take off my hat. Each then took an egg and approached me, saying, " tu es mi bien amorado,"- at the same time breaking the shells on my head. My hair waa completely filled with their many-colored contents, and it was several days before it was clear of this testimony of affection. I crossed another large river at Acaponeta, and went on through embowered paths, "Under a shade perpetual, which never Ray of the sun let in, nor moon. Gay parrots and macaws glanced in and out amid the cool greeij shawdows ; lovely vistas opened between the boughs into the faery heart of the wilderness ; the trees were laced each to each, by vines each more luxuriant than themselves ; subtile odors pervaded the air, and large, yellow, bell-shaped flowers swung on their long stems like cups of gold, tremulous in the chance rays of sunshine Here and there, along the ledges of the mural mountains on my left, I noted the smoke of Indian camp-fires, which, as night ap- proached, sparkled like beacons. I intended to have stopped at a ranche called San Miguel, but passed it unknowingly, and night found me on the road. A friendly ranchero pointed F HORROR. 349 only traveler I saw on the road, whoso horse was so woeful an animal as mine. "We started in company, and soon grew strongly attached. At dusk, we reached a village called Las Vcrritas. The inhabitants were all gone to Tepic, except an old *nan and a little boy who were selling oja to a company of mule- teers squatted around a fire in the middle of the street. Nothing was to be had to eat, except some cheeses which one of the latter canicd in a wicker pack. I could get no tortillas for money, nor exactly for love, but compassion helped me. The wife of one of the men came quietly to me as I sat by my saddle, and slipping two tortillas into my hand, said hi a whisper : " now, when you buy the cheese, you'll have something to eat with it." With a cheese for two reals, iny sworn friend and I made a hearty supper. He did for me many kind little offices, with a sort of meek fidelity, that touched me exceedingly. After our meal was finished, he went into the woods and brought me a calabash of water, standing uncovered while I drank it. I lay upon the ground, but all the fleas in the village, who had been without sustenance for two days, pounced in upon me in swarms. Added to this, every exposed part of the body was attacked by legions of musquitos, so that, with such enemies without and within, I never passed a man terrible night CHAPTER XXXIV. THE ASCENT TO THE TABLE-LAND. 1 WAS lying upon my back, with my handkerchief over my face, trying to imagine that I was asleep, when the welcome voice of the arriero shouted in my ear : " Ho ! Plactro ! up and saddle ! the morning is coming and we must reach Tepic to-day." We fed our horses and sat on the ground for an hour before the first streak of dawn appeared. Three or four leagues of travel through a rich meadow-land brought us to the foot of the first ascent to the table-land. Our horses were fast failing, and we got off to walk up the stony trail. " I think we had better keep very close to gether," said my friend ; " these woods are full of robbers, and they may attack us." Our path was fenced in by thorny thickets and tall clumps of cactus, and at every winding we were careful to have our arms in readiness. We climbed the first long ascent to a narrow plain, or shelf, from which we ascended again, finding always higher ridges above us. From the Abrevadero, a sort of inn or hospice standing alone in the woods, the hot, low country we left was visible nearly as far as Acaponeta ; to one going to- wards Mazatlan, its dark-blue level might easily be mistaken for the sea. The Silla de San Juan was now to the west of us, and stood nearly five thousand feet in height. From the top of every A COMMERCIAL TRANSACTION. 35] successive ridge we overlooked a great extent of country, Vrokei and cloven in all downward directions by the agency of some pre- Adamite flood, yet inclosing in many sheltered valleys and basin* spots of singular fertility and beauty, which are watered through whole year from the cisterns of the mountains. It was truly, ai the old lady at El Rosario said, "un pais precioso." We reached at noon a village calk-d El Ingsnio, about twelve leagues from Tepic. It lies in a warm valley planted with ba- nanas and sugar-cane ; the mountain streams are made to turn a Dumber of mills, from which the place probably derives its name. Here the road from San Bias runs up through a narrow gorge ind joins that from Mazatlan. We walked behind our horses all the afternoon, but as mine held out bast. I gradually got ahead of the arriero. I halted several times for him to come up, but as he did not appear, I thought it advisable to push on to a good place of rest. My caminador had touched the bottom of his capability, and another day would have broken him down completely. Never- theless, he had served me faithfully and performed miracles, con- sidering his wasted condition. I drove him forward up ra- vines, buried in foliage and fragrant with blossoms ; the golden globes of the oranges spangled tha " embalmed darkness," as twilight settled on the mountains. Two leagues from Tepic, I reached the hacienda of La Meca, and quartered myself for the night. One of the rancheros wished to purchase my horse, and after some chaffering, I agreed to deliver him in Tepic for four dollars ! The owner of the hacienda, on learning this, was greatly disappointed that I had not bargained with him, and urged me very strongly to break my word and sell him the horso for three dollars and a half ! I told hi>r. I would net sell the apimal foi 352 ELDORADO. eight dollars, after having made a bargain ; be was enraged at this but, as I could plainly see, respected mo the more for it. The young rancheros belonging to the hacienda amused them elves very much at my expense. A demon of fun seemed to osscss them, and the simple sentences in my Spanish phrase-book excited them to yeLs of laughter. They were particularly curious to know my tastes and preferences, and on learning that I had never drank mescal, invited me to go with them and try it. We went down the road to a little hut, where a shelf with a bottle and two glasses upon it swinging under the thatched portico, signified " Liquor for Sale," to the passing arrieros. We entered and sal down among the family, who were at their scanty supper of rice and tortillas. The poor people offered me their own plates with a most genuine unsophisticated hospitality ; the rancheros told them whence I came, and they seemed anxious to learn something about my country. I tasted the mescal, which is stronger than brandy, and has a pungent oily flavor ; I should think its effects most pernicious if habitually drank. The people were curious to know about our Free School System of which they had heard by some means. None of them knew how to read, and they lamented most bitterly that education in Mexico was so difficult for their class. I was deeply touched by the exclamation of an old man. whose eyes trembled with tears as he spoke : " Ah, how beautiful thing it is to be able to read of God !" then adding, in a softened tone, as if speaking to himself : " but I cannot read I cannot cad." I found many such persons among those ignorant ran- cheros men who were conscious of their inffriority and desired most earnestly to be enlightened and improved. Tcpic is built on the first plateau of the table-land, and aboui naif-way between the Silla do San Juan and an extinot volcanf TEPIC. 353 called San Guengney, which lifts its blackened brow high into th eastern sky. The plain, about fifteen miles in breadth, is for the most part moist meadow-land, threaded by several small streams Tho city is girdled by pleasant gardens which hide everything from view on approaching, except the towers and dome of its cathedral. It is a solid well-built town of massive adobe houses mostly of one story, and divided by streets running at right angles. The general aspect of the place is dull and monotonous, with the exception of the plaza, which is one of the most beautiful in Mexico. A row of giant plane-trees runs around the four sides, shading the arched corridors of stone in which the traders display their fruits, trinkets, and articles of dress. There is an old stone fountain in the centre, around which, under canopies of grass-mat- ting, are heaped piles of yellow bananas, creamy chirimoyas, oranges, and the scarlet, egg-like fruit of the Chinese pomegranate. All the gayety of the city seems to concentrate in the plaza, and, indeed, there is nothing else worth the traveler's notice, unless ho is interested in manufactures in which case he should visit the large cotton mills of Barron and Forbes in the vicinity. It is mainly through these mills that Tepic is known in the United States. I had been directed to call at the posada of Doila Pctra, but no one seemed to know the lady. Wandering about at random in the streets, I asked a boy to conduct me to some meson. As 1 rode along, following him, a group of tailors sitting at a street- eorner, sewing called out : " Americano !" '' No tiene listed cui- / O' dado," said the boy, " son mal criados" (Ifon't mind them ; they have bad manners.) I followed him into the court-yard of a lar^c building where I was received by the patron, who gave nry O O * done-over horse to the charge of the mozo, telling me I \\as jus* 354 ELDORADO. in time for breakfast. My name was suddenly :aUed from the opposite corridor; I turned about in surprise, and recognised the face of Mr. Jones of Guadalajara, wbom I had met in Mazatlan. He had likewise just arrived, and was deep in the midst of a empting salad and omelette, where I soon joined him. I had been in the house but a few minutes, when a heavy shower began and continued several hours without cessation ; it was the first ol the ubanuelos, a week of rainy weather, which comes in the mid- dle of the dry season. The purchaser of my horse did not make his appearance, notwithstanding I was ready to fulfil my part of the bargain. As soon as the rain was over, I went the round of the different mesons, to procure another horse, and at last made choice of a little brown mustang that paced admirably, giving my c%minador and twenty dollars for him. I made arrangements to leave Tepic the next morning, for the journey from Mazatlan had cost me eight days, and nine hundred miles still lay between me and Vera Cruz, where I was obliged to be on the 16th of Feb- ruary. Leaving the meson on a bright Sunday noon, I left the city by the Guadalajara road. The plaza was full of people, all in spot- less holiday dress ; a part of the exercises were performed in the portals of the cathedral, thus turning the whole square into a place of worship. At the tingle of the bell, ten thousand persons drop- ped on their knees, repeating their aves with a light, muromi-insi sound, that chimed pleasantly with the bubbling of the fountain I topped my horse and took off my sombrero till the prayer was ov^r. The scenery beyond Tepic is very picturesque ; the road crosses the plateau on which the city is built, and rounds the foot of San Guenguey, whose summit, riven into deep gulfs between its pinnacles of rock, war, half-hidden in clouds as I passed. I came SACRED MYSTERIES 355 into a pretty valley, surrounded on alt sides by ruggc 1 hills ; field* of cano and rice dotted its surface, but the soil was much loss fer- tile than in the rich bottoms of the Tierra Caliente. My prieto the Mexican term for a dark-bro-vn horse paaef the village. The three kings took the lead ; the Virgin mounted on an ass that gloried in a gilded saddle and rose-be- sprinkled mane and tail, followed them, led by the angel ; and i^ ELDORADO. several women, with curious masks of paper, brought up tlu rear Two characters of the harlequin sort one with a dog's head on his- shoulders and the other a bald-headed friar, with a huge hal hanging on his back played all sorts of antics for the diversion of the crowd. After making the circuit of the plaza, the Virgin was taken to the platform, and entered the manger King Herod took his seat dt the scarlet table, with an attendant in blue coat and red sash, whom I took to be his Prime Minister. The three kings remained on their horses in front of the church ; but between them and the platform, under the string on which the star was to elide, walked two men in long white robes and blue hoods, with parchment folios in their hands. These were the Wise Men of the East, as one might readily know from their solemn air, and the mysterious glances which they cast towards all quarters of the heavens. In a little while, a company of women on the platform, COL- cealed behind a curtain, sang an angelic chorus to the tune of " pescator dell'onda." At the proper moment, the Magi turned towards the platform, followed by the star, to which a string was con- veniently attached, that it might be slid along the line. The three kings followed the star till it reached the manger, when they dis- mounted, and inquired for the sovereign whom it had led them to visit. They were invited upon the platform and introduced to Herod, as the only king; this did not seem to satisfy them ; and, after some conversation, they retired. By this time 'he star had receded to the other cud of the line, and commenced moviug for ward again, they following. The angel called them into the man ger, where, upon their knees, they were shown a small woodefc box, supposed to contain the sacred infant; they then retired, and the star bi ought them bsck no more. After this departure THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS. 357 King Herod declared himself greatly confused by what ho had witnessed, and was very much afraid this newly-found king would weaken his power. Upon consultation with his Prime Minister the Massacre of the Innocents was decided upon, as the only means of security. The angel, on hearing this, gave warning to the Virgin, who quickly got down from the platform, mounted her bespangled don- key and hurried off. Herod's Prime Minister directed all tho children to be handed up for execution. A boy, in a ragged sarapc, was caught and thrust forward ; the Minister took him bj the heels in spite of his kicking, and held his head on the table. The little brother and sister of the boy, thinking he was really to be decapitated, yelled at the top of their voices, in an agony oi terror, which threw the crowd into a roar of laughter. King Herod brought down his sword with a whack on the table, and the Prime Minister, dipping his brush into a pot of white paint which stood before him, made a flaring cross on the boy's face. Scve ral other boys were caught and served likewise ; and, finally, tho two harlequins, whose kicks and struggles nearly shook down the platform. The procession then went off up the hill, followed by the whole population of the village. All the evening there were fan- dangos in the meson, bonfires and rockets on the plaza, ringing of bolls, and high mass in the church, with tho accompaniment of two guitars, tinkling to lively polkas. 1 left San Lionel early in the morning. The road, leaving tho valley, entered the defiles of the mountains, crossing many a wild and rocky barranca. (A barranca nearly answers to the idea of our wird "gullcy," but is on a deeper and grander scale.) A beautiful species of pine already appeared, but in the warm hollows imali plantations of bananas still flourished. I lost sight of San 358 KLDORADO. Quenguey, and after two hours of rough travel, came out on a mountain slope overlooking one of the most striking landscapes I ever beheld. In front, across a reach of high table-land, twc ofty volcanic peaks rose far above the rim of the barren hills. Tr he left, away towards the east, extended a broad and lovely valley dotted with villages and the green shimmer of fields, and hemmed IE on all sides by mountains that touched the clouds. These lofty ranges some of which were covered with trees to the summit and some bleak and stony, despite their aerial hue of purple- make no abrupt transition from the bed of the valley : on the con trary, the latter seems to be formed by the gradual flattening of their bases. The whole scene wore a distinct, vaporlcss, amethyst tint, and the volcano of Zurubuco, though several leagues distant, showed every jag in the cold and silent lips of its crater. I rode thirty miles, to the village of Santa Ysabel, before break- fasting, and still had twenty-one miles to Ahuacatlan, my stopping- place for the night. My road led down the beautiful valley, between fields of the agave amtricana. Sunset came on as I reached the foot of Zurubuco, and struck on a rocky path across a projecting spur. Here a most wonderful region opened before me. The pleasant valley disappeared, with everything that reminded me of life, and I was surrounded, as far as the vision extended, with the black waves of a lava sea. It was terrible as the gaten f Tartarus a wild, inexorable place, with no gleam of light on ts chaotic features. The road was hewn with difficulty through the surgy crests of rock, which had stiffened to adamant, while tossing in their most tempestuous rage. The only thing like vegetation, was a tree with a red and bloated trunk, the bark oi which peeled off in shreds, apparently a sort of vegetable elephan- tiasis, as disgusting as the human specimens I saw on the Isthmus CHILDISH HOSTS A VALLET-PICTURE. 359 I passed this region with a sensation bordering on fear, welcoming the dusky twilight of the shaded road beyond, and the bright moon under whose rays I entered Ahuacatlan. At the meson I found no one but the hostess and hei two little sons ; but the latter attended to my wants with a childish ccur- tesy, and gravity withal, which were charming. The little fellows gave me the key to a room, saw my prieto properly cared for, and thin sat down to entertain me till the tortillas were made and the eggs fried. They talked with much naivete and a wisdom beyond their years. After supper they escorted me to my room, and took leave of me with . " pasa uste muy buena ncche /" I arose in the cloudless dawn, rode through the gay, spacious plaza of the village crossed another barranca, and reached Iztlan in time for break fast. This is a beautiful place, embosomed in gardens, from the midst of which the church lifts its white tower. Beyond Iztlan, delicious valley-picture lay before me. The dark red mountains bristling with rock, formed nearly an even circle, inclosing a bowl about ten miles in diameter. Further down their sides, the plan- tations of the agave, or aloe, made a belt of silvery gray, and deep in the fertile bosom of the plain, the gardens and orange groves, with sparkling glimpses of streams between the black loam, freshly ploughed, and the fields of young cane, of a pale golden green, basked in the full light of the sun. Far off, over the porphyry rim of the basin, a serrated volcanic peak stood up against the Btainless blue of the sky. It was one of those rare chances in nature, when scenery, color, climate, and the sentiment of the *pot, arc in entire and exquisite harmony. Leaving this valley, which was like a crystal or a piece ol perfect enamel, buried in a region that Nature had left in the tragh, I climbed a barren hill, which terminated at the brink of 360 ELDORADO. the grand Barranca a tremendous chasm, dividing two sectiom of the table-land. Two thousand feet below, at the level of the Tierra Calicnte, lay a strip of Eden-like richness and beauty, but the mountains which walled it on both sides were dark, sterile and sarago. Those opposite to me rose as far above the level of tho ledge on which I stood, as their bases sank below it. Their ap- pearance was indescribably grand ; for the most perfect and sub- lime effect of a mountain is to be had neither from base nor summit, but a station midway between the two and separated from it. Tho road descending to Plan dc Barranca, a little village at the bottom of tho chasm, is built with great labor along the very verge of giddy precipices, or notched under the caves of crags which threaten to topple down upon it. The ascent of the opposite steep is effected by a stony trail, barely large enough for two mules to pass, up the side of a wide crevice in the mountain-wall Finally, the path appears to fail ; the precipice falls sheer <>n one side ; the bare crag rises on the other. But a sudden twist around the corner of a rock reveals a narrow cleft, terminating in the lower shelf of the table-land above. Looking back after I bad scaled this, an atajo of mules which followed me, appeared to be emerging from the bowels of the earth. The road crossing the barranca is nearly fifteen miles in length. Large numbers of workmen are engaged in completing it for vehicles, and over the ieepest chasm a bridge is being constructed by the State of Jalisco. Five years, however, is the shortest period named for the com- pletion of the work, up to which time the barranca will remain impassable except for mules. The line of stages to Tepic, which te greatly demanded by the increase of travel, cannot therefore be perfected before that time ; but Seiior Zurutuza, the proprietor a tho diligence lines, proposes opcuing a communication immediately A CHILL LODGING. 361 by means of a mule-post across the barranca. From Tcpio to San Bias is but a day's journey, so that the chain of comfortable travel will then reach nearly from ocean to ocean. My prieto began to feel the effects of the hard hills and thit air of the upper region, and I therefore stopped for the night at the inn of Mochitiltc, an immense building, sitting alone liko a fortress among the hills. The key of a large, cheerless room, daubed with attempts at fresco ornament, was given to me, and a rapper served up in a cold and gloomy hall. The wind blew chill from the heights on cither side, and I found pritto's blankok * welcome addition to my own, in the matter of bedding. 16 CHAPTER XXXV. THE ROBBER REGION I BLLPT soundly in my frescoed chamber, fed pritto, and was off by sunrise. The road ascended the valley for several leagues, to the riin of the table-land, with high, barren mountains on either hand. Before crossing its edge I turned to look down into the basin I had left. A few streaks of dusky green varied its earthen hue; far off, in its very bottom, the front of the meson of Mochitilte shone like a white speck in the sunrise, and the blue walls of the barranca filled up the farthest perspective. I now entered on a broad, barren plain, bordered by stony mountains and holding in its deepest part a shallow lake, which appeared to be fast drying in the sun. The scenery strikingly resembled that of some parts of California, towards the end of the rainy season. The little town of Magdalena, where I breakfasted, sits beside the lake, at the foot of a glen through which the road again enters the hills. The waters of a clear stream trickle down through ite Btreets and keep green the gardens of splendid orange-trees which gleam behind the gray adobe walls. At the meson I gare prieto a sheaf of oja and two hours' rest before starting for the town ol Tequila. " iVo quiere usti tomar ausilio 1 hay muchos ladrones tn el camino ;" (Don't you want a guard ? the road is full of MEETING A CONDUCTA 3(J3 robbers,) asked the vaquero of the house. " Every traveler " he continued, " takes a guard as far as Tequila, for which he pays each man a dollar." I told him I had no particular fear of tho robbers, and would try it alone. " You are very courageous," he remarked, " but you will certainly be attacked unless you take nv as an ausilio." Soon after leaving the town I net a conditcta of a hundred soldiers, escorting about fifty speeis-laden mules. The officers were finely mounted, but the men, most of whom had broad swarthy Indian faces, trudged along in the dust. Some of them greeted me with : " Como ra, paisano ?" some with " How do you do ?" and others with a round English oath, but all imagining, ipparently, that they had made the same salutation. As I WM passing, a tawny individual, riding with one of the officers, turned about and addressed me in English. He was an American, who had been several years in the country, and was now on his way to California, concerning which he wanted some information. Not- withstanding he was bound to San Bias and had all his funds packed on one of the mules, he seemed still undecided whether to embark for San Francisco, and like most of tho other emigrants I met, insisted strongly o*my opinion as to the likelihood of his success The road now entered a narrow pass, following the dry bed of a stream, whose channel was worn about twenty feet deep in the earth. Its many abrupt twists and windings afforded unequalled chances for the guerillas, especially as the pass was nearly three leagues in length, without a single habitation on the road. My friend, Lieutenant Beale, was chased by a party of robbers, in this very place, on his express journey across Mexico, in the summer of 1848. I did not meet with a single soul, although it was not later than the middle of the afternoon. The recent passing of the 864 ELDORADO. conducts had probably frightened the robbers away from the vicinity. After riding two hours in the hot afternoon sun, which shono down into the pass, a sudden turn disclosed to me a startling change of scenery. From the depths of the scorched hills, T cam* at once upon the edge of a bluff, several hundred feet high, down which the road wound in a steep and tortuous descent. Below and before me extended a plain of twenty miles in length, entirely covered with fields of the maguey. At my very feet lay the city of Tequila, so near that it seemed a stone might be thrown upon the square towers of its cathedral. The streets, the gardens, the housetops and the motley groups of the populace, were as com- pletely unveiled to my observation as if Asmodeus had been my traveling companion. Around the plain, which now lay basking in the mellow light of the low sun, ran a circle of mural moun- tains, which, high and blue as they were, sank into nothing before the stupendous bulk of a black volcanic peak rising behind Tequila The whole scene, with its warm empurpled hues, might have served, if not for the first circle of Dante's Paradise, at least foi that part of Purgatory which lay next to it. I rode down into the city, crossing several arroyos, which the floods gathered by the volcano had cut deeper into the plain. At the Meson de San Jose the only inn in the place I found a largo company of soldiers quartered for the night. The inner patio or ourtyard, with its stables, well, and massive trough of hewn stono, was appropriated to their horses, and groups of swarthy privates, in dusty blue uniforms, filled the corridors. I obtained a dark room for myself, and a corner of one of the stalls for prillo, where t was obliged to watch until he had finished his corn, and keep ofl bis military aggressors. The women were all absent, and I pro SUSPIJIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES. 365 cared a few tortillas and a cup of pepper-sauce, with seme diffi culty. The place looked I leak and cheerless after dark, and foi this reason, rather than its cut-throat reputation, I made but a singlo stroll to the plaza, where a number of rancheros sat bcsido their piles of fruit and grain, in the light of smoky torches, hoisted n poles. The meson was full of fleas, who seemed to relish my blood better than that of the soldiers, for I believe they all paid rae a visit in the course of the night. When I arose, the sun, just above the hills, was shining down the long street that led to Guadalajara. I had a journey of eighteen leagues to make, and it was time to be on the road ; so, without feeding my horse, I saddled and rode away. A little more than four leagues across the plain, brought me to the town of Amatitlan ; where, at a miserable mud building, dignified by tho name of a meson, I ordered breakfast, and a mano de cja for my horse. There was none in the house, but one of tho neighbors began shelling a quantity of the ripe cars. When I came to p&y, I gave her a Mexican dollar, which she soon brought back, saying that it had been pronounced counterfeit at a ticwda, or shop, across the way. I then gave her another, which she returned, with the same story, after which I gave her a third, saying she must change it, for I would give her no more. The affairs of a few hours later caused me to remember and understand the meaning of this ittle circumstance. At the tienda, a number of fellows in greasy arapcs were grouped, drinking mescal, which they ofiercd mo. 1 refused to join them : " es la ultima rcz," (it is the last time J said one of them, though what he meant, I did not then know. It was about ten in the forenoon when I left Amatitlan. The road entered on a lonely range of hills, the pedestal of an abrupt ipur standing out from the side of the volcano. The soil was 366 ELDORADO covered with stunted shrubs and a growth rf long yellow graas I could see the way for half a league before and behind ; there was no one in sight not even a boy-arriero, with his two or three donkeys. I rode leisurely along, looking down into a deep ravine on my right and thinking to myself ; " that is an excellent place foi robbers to lie in wait ; I think I had better load my pistol" which I had fired off just before reaching Tequila. Scarcely had this thought passed through my mind, when a little bush beside the road seemed to rise up ; I turned suddenly, and, in a breath, flic two barrels of a musket were before me, so near and surely aimed, that I could almost see the bullets at the bottom. The weapon was held by a ferocious-looking native, dressed in a pink calico shirt and white pantaloons ; on the other side of me stood a second, covering me with another double-barreled musket, and a little in the rear, appeared a third. I had walked like an un- suspecting mouse, into the very teeth of the trap laid for me. " Down with your pistols !" cried the first, in a hurried whisper. So silently and suddenly had all this taken place, that I sat still a moment, hardly realizing my situation. " Down with your pistols and dismount !" was repeated, and this time the barrels came a little nearer my breast. Thus solicited, I threw down my single pistol the more readily because it was harmless and got off my horse. Having secured the pistol, the robbers went to the rear, never for a moment losing their aim. They then ordered me to lead my horse off the road, by a direction which they pointed out We went down the side of the ravine for about a quarter of a mile to a patch of bushes and tall grass, out of view from the road, where they halted, one of them returning, apparently to keep watch. The others, deliberately levelling their pieces at me, Commanded mo to lie down on my face " la boca d tierra /" 1 THE ROBBERS' SEARCH 361 cannot Bay that I ft It alarmed : it had always been a part of mj belief that the shadow of Death falls before him that the man doomed to die by violence feels the chill before the blow has been struck. As I never felt more positively alive than at that mo- ment, I judged my time had not yet come. I pulled off my coal and vest, at their command, and threw them on the grass, saying '' Take what you want, but don't detain me long." The fellow . a pink calico shirt, who appeared to have some authority over thv other two, picked up my coat, and, one after the other, turned all ihe pockets inside out. I felt a secret satisfaction at his blank look when he opened my purse and poured the few dollars it con- tained into a pouch he carried in his belt. " How is it," said he, " that you have no more money ?" " I don't own much," I an- swered, " but there is quite enough for you." I had, hi fact, barely sufficient in coin for a ride to Mexico, the most of my funds hav- ing been invested in a draft on that city. I believe I did not lose more than twenty-five dollars by this attack. " At least," I said to the robbers, " you'll not take the papers" among which was my draft. "JVb," he replied, "no mevalen nada." (They aro worth nothing to me.) Having searched my coat, he took a hunting-knife which I carried, (belonging, however, to Lieut. Beale,) examined the blade and point, placed his piece against a bush behind him and came up to me, saying, as he held the knife above my head : " Now put your hands behind you, and don't move, or I shall strike.'' Tht other then laid down his musket and advanced to bind me. They were evidently adepts in the art : all then- movements were BO carefully tuned, that any resistance would have been against dangerous odds. I did not consider my loss sufficient to justify any desperate risk, and did as they commanded. With the end 868 SLDORADO. of n?y horse's lariat, they bound my wrists firmly together and having me thus secure, sat down to finish their inspection more leisurely. My feelings during this proceeding were oddly hetero gcncous at one moment burning with rage and shame at having neglected the proper means of defence, and the next, ready to burst into a laugh at the decided novelty of my situation. My blanket having bcca spread on the grass, everything was emptied into it. The robbers had an eye for the curious and incompre- hensible, as well as the useful. They spared all my letters, books and papers, but took my thermometer, compass and card-case, together with a number of drawing-pencils, some soap, (a thing the Mexicans never use,) and what few little articles of the toilette I carried with me. A bag hanging at my saddle-bow, con- taining ammunition, went at once, as well as a number of oranges and cigars in my pockets, the robbers leaving me one of the latter, as a sort of consolation for my loss. Between Mazatlan and Tcpic, I had carried a doubloon in the hollow of each foot, covered by the stocking. It was well they had been spent for prielo, for they would else have certainly been discovered. The villains unbuckled my spurs, jerked off my boots and examined the bottoms of my pantaloons, ungirthcd the saddle and shook out the blankets, scratched the heavy guard of the bit to t'cc whether it was silver, and then, apparently satisfied that they had made the most of me, tied everything together in a corner of my best blanket " Now," raid the leader, when this was done, " shall we take your horse r" This question was of course a mockery ; but I thought I would try an experiment, and BO answered in a very decided tone : " No ; you shall not. I must have him ; I am going to Guadalajara, and I cannot get there without him. Besides, ho would not answer at all for your buai THEIR DEPARTURE AND MY LIBERATION. 369 ness." He made no reply, but took up lib piccej which I notioi*3 was a splendid article and in perfect order, walked a short distant towards the road, and made a signal to tho third robber. Sud- denly ho came oack, saying: "Perhaps you may get hungry before night here is something to eat ;" and with that he placed cnc of my oranges and half a dozen tortillas on the grass beside mo. " Mil gracias," said I, " but how am I to eat without hands ?" The other then coming up, he said, as they all three turned to leave me : " Now we arc going ; we have more to carrs than we had before we met you ; adios !" This was insulting but there arc instances under which an insult must be swallowed. I waited till no more of them could be seen, and then turned to my horse, who stood quietly at the other end of the lariat " Now, prieto," I asked, " how are we to get out of this scrape ?*' He said nothing, but I fancied I could detect an inclination to laugh in the twitching of his nether lip. Hqwever, I went to work at extricating myself a difficult matter, as the rope was tied 'in several knots. After tugging a long tune, I made a twist which the India-rubber man might have envied, and to the great danger of my spine, succeeded in forcing my body through mj arms. Then, loosening the knots with my teeth, in half an hour I was free again. As I rode off, I saw the three robbers at some distance, on the other side of the ravine. It is astonishing how light one feels after being robbed. A sensation of complete independence came over me ; my horse, even, seemed to move more briskly, after being relieved of rnj blankets. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that this was a genuine adventure, worth one experience that, perhaps, i 4 was better to lose a few dollars than have even a robber's blood un my head ; but it would not do The sense of the outrage WWi 370 ELDCRADO. indignity. was strongest, and my single desire was the unchristian one of revenge. It is easy to philosophize on imaginary premises but actual experience is the best test of human nature. Once, il had been difficult for me to imagine the feeling that would prompt a man to take the life of another ; now, it was clear enough. In spite of the threats of the robbers, I looked in their faces suffi- ciently to know them again, in whatever part of the world I mighi meet them. I recognized the leader a thick-set, athletic man, with a short, black beard as one of the persons I had seen lounging about the tienda, in Amatitlan, which explained the irtifice that led me to display more money than was prudent. It was evidently a preconceived plan to plunder me at all hazards, since, coming from the Pacific, I might be supposed to carry a booty worth fighting for. I rode on rapidly, over broad, barren hills, covered with patches of chapparal, and gashed with deep arroyos. These are the usual hiding-places of the robbers, and I kept a sharp look-out, inspect- ing every rock and clump of cactus with a peculiar interest. About three miles from the place of my encounter, I passed a spot where there had been a desperate assault eighteen months previous. The robbers came upon a camp of soldiers and traders in the night, and a fight ensued, in which eleven of the latter were killed. They lie buried by the road-side, with a few black crosses to mark the spot, while dL-ectly above them stands a rough gibbet, on which three of the robbers, who were afterwards taken, swing in chains. I confess to a decided feeling of satisfaction, when I saw that three, at least, had obtained their deserts. Their long black hair hung over their faces, then: clothes irere dropping in tatters, and their skeleton-bones protruded through the dry *nd shrunken flesh. The thin , pure air of th* MEXICAN PUNISHMENT AND PROTECTIOR. 371 table-land had prevented decomposition, and the vultures and buzzards had been kept off by the nearness of the bodies to the road. It is said, however, that neither wolves nor vultures will touch a dead Mexican, his flesh being always too highly seasoned oy the red-pepper he has eaten. A large sign was fastened al-cve this ghastly spectacle, with the words, in large letters: "AJT CASTIGA LA LEY EL LADRON Y EL ASESINO." (Thus the law punishes the robber and the assassin.,) Towards the middle of the afternoon, I reached a military station called La Venta, seven leagues from Guadalajara. Thirty or forty idle soldiers were laughing and playing games in thn shade. I rode up to the house and informed the officer of my loss, mentioning several circumstances by which the robbers might be identified; but the zealous functionary merely shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. A proper distribution of half the soldiers who lay idle in this guard-house, would have sufficed to make the road perfectly secure. I passed on, with a feeling of indignation agamst the country and its laws, and hurried my prieto, now nearly exhausted, over the dusty plain. I had as- cended beyond the tropical heats, and, as night drew on, the temperature was fresh almost to chilliness. The robbers had taken my cravat and vest, and the cold wind of the mountains, blowing upon my bare neck gave me a violent nervous pain and toothache, which was worse than the loss of my money. Prieto panted and halted with fatigue, for he had already traveled fifty miles ; but I was obliged to reach Guadalajara, and by plying a stick in lieu of the abstracted spur, kept nim to his pace. At dosk I passed through Sapopa, a small village, containing a splen- did monastery, belonging to the monks of the order of Guada- lupo. Beyond it, I overtook, in the moonlight, the family of 372 ELDORADO. ranclicro, jogging along on their mules and repeating paternosters whether for protection against robbers or cholera, I could not tull The plain was crossed by deep, water-worn arroyos, over which the road was bridged. An hour and a half of this bleak, ghostlj travel brought mo to the suburbs o f Guadalajara- -greatly to the relief of prielo, for he began to stagger, and I believe could not have carried me a mile further. I was riding at random among the dark adobe houses, when an old padre, in black cassock and immense shovel-hat, accosted me. " Estr anger o ?" he inquired; " Si, padre," said I. " But," ho continued, " do you know that it is very dangerous to be hero alone ?" Several persons who were passing, stopped near us, out of curiosity. "Begone!" said he, " what business have you to stop and listen to us ?" then, dropping his voice to a whisper, ho added : " Guadalajara is full of robbers ; you must be careful how you wander about after night ; do you know where to go ?" I an- swered in the negative. " Then," said he, u go to the Meson dc la Merced ; they arc honest people there, and you will be per- fectly safe ; como with me and I'll show you the way." I followed him for some distance, till we were near the place, when he put me in the care of " Ave Maria Santissima," and left. I found the house without difficulty, and rode into the court-yard. Tho people, who seemed truly honest, sympathized sincerely for my mishap, and thought it a great marvel that my life had been spared For myself, when I lay down on the tiled floor to pass another night of sleepless martyrdom to fleas and the toothache, J involuntarily said, with a slight variation of Touchstone's sage re- flection : "Aye, now I am in Guadalajara; the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place ; but travelers must be content" CHAPTER XXXVL TEREE DAYS IN GUADALAJARA. WHEN I got off my horse at the Meson de la Merced, I told the host and the keeper of the fonda that I had been robbed, that I hid no money, and did not expect to have any for two or three days. " No hact nada," said they, " you may stay as long as you like." So they gave my horse a sheaf of oja and myself a supper of tortillas and pepper-sauce. The old lady who kept tho fonda was of half-Castilian blood, and possessed all the courtesy of her white ancestors, with the quickness and vivacity of the In- dian. She was never tired of talking to me aBout the strangers who had stopped at the meson, especially of one whom she called Don Julio, who, knowing little Spanish, frequently accost- ed her as " mule !" or " donkey !" for want of some other word. She would mimic him with great apparent delight. She had three daughters Fclipa, Mariquita and Conccpcion of whom the two former were very beautiful. They were employed in the manufacture of rcbosas, and being quite skilful in tending the machines, earned a dollar a day a considerable sum for Mexico. Conccpcion was married, and had a son named Zcnobio a verj handsome, sprightly little fellow, with dark, humid, lustrous eyes Tho circumstance of *my remembering and calling each one bj 374 ELDORADO. uame, seemed to please them highly, and always at meal-time thej gathered around the table, asking me innumerable questions about my country and my travels. My first move next morning was to find the Diligence Office. I went into the main plaza, which is a beautiful square, shaded bj orange trees, and flanked on two sides by the picturesque front o the Cathedral and the Government Palace. As I was passing the latter building, one of the sentinels hailed me. Supposing it to be meant in derision, I paid no attention to it, but presently a sergeant, accompanied by two men, came after me. One of the latter accosted me in English, saying tliat it was so long since he had seen an American, he hoped I would stop and talk with him. He was a Scotchman, who for some reason had enlisted for a yea; and had already served about half of his time. Ho complained bitterly of the bad treatment of the men, who, according to his etory, were frequently on the point of starvation. The Mexican soldiers are not furnished with rations, but paid a small sum daily, on which they support themselves. As the supplies from head- quarters are very irregular, and a system of appropriation is prac- tised by all the officers through whose hands they must come, the men arc sometimes without food for a day or two, and never re- ceive more than is barely sufficient for their wants. The poor Scotchman was heartily sick of his situation and told me he would have deserted long before, only that he had no other clothes iii which to disguise himself. At the office of the Diligence, I found the admnistradcT, Don Lorenzo del Castafio, to whom I related my story and showed my draft. " Es superior,*' said he, after examining it, and then told me to call the next morning, as he would see a merchant in the meantime who, he was sure, would pay mo the amount. Drofti FINANCIERING 373 on the city of Mexico were at a premium of two per cent, and he aad no difficulty in getting it accepted. The money, however, was paid to me in quarter-dollars, reals and inedios, which it took me more than an hour to count. I went back to the office, with a heavy canvas-bag in each pocket, paid all the money to the adininistrador, who gave me a ticket for the next stage to Mexico, and an order for the residue on all the agents of the line By exhibiting these orders at the different stopping-places on the road, the traveler receives credit for all his expenses, the amount at each place being endorsed at the bottom, and the remainder, if any, paid on his arrival at Mexico. By this means, he is saved the necessity of taking any money with him, and may verify the old Latin proverb by whistling in the face of the robber. I was thus led, perforce, to give up my original plan of traveling on horseback to Mexico, by way of Lake Chapala, Zamora, thi ancient city of Morelia and the valley of Toluca. This route offered less of general interest than that of Lagos and Guanajuato, but had the attraction of being little traveled by strangers and little known. Perhaps I lost nothing by the change, for the hills near Zamora are robber-ground, and I had no desire to look into the barrels of three or four leveled muskets a second time. I found Guadalajara in a state of terror and prayers. For month previous the inhabitants had been expecting the arrival of the Cholera, now that its ravages in Durango and Zacatecas were ovei-. The city authorities were doing everything in their power to hasten its approach, by prohibiting all public amusements and instituting solemn religious festivals. The Cathedral was at aU times crowded with worshippers, the Host frequently carried through the streets, gunpowder burned and rockets sent up to propitiate the Virgin As yet no case had been reported in thi 876 ELDORADO. city, though there were rumors of several in the neighboring villages. The convicts were brought out every morning in long gangs, chained together, each man carrying a broom made of small twigs. Commencing with the centre of the city, they were kept sweeping the whole day, till all the principal streets were left without a particle of dust or filth. The clanking of their fetters was con- stantly heard in some part of the city ; the officers who walked behind them carried short whips, with which they occasionally went up and down the lines, giving each man a blow. This iaily degradation and abuse of criminals was cruel and repulsive. The men, low and debased as they were, could not have been mtirely devoid of shame, the existence of which always renders reclamation possible ; but familiarity with ignominy soon breeds & hardened indifference which meets the pride of honesty with an equal pride of evil. Guadalajara is considered the most beautiful city in Mexico Seated on a shelf of the table-land, between three and four thou- sand feet above the sea, it enjoys a milder climate than the capital, and while its buildings lack very little of the magnificence of the latter, its streets are a model of cleanliness and order. The block fronting on the north side of the plaza, is a single solid edifice of stone, called the Cortal, with a broad corridor, supported on stone arches, running around it. The adjoining block is built on the game plan, and occupied entirely by shops of all kinds. Shielded alike from rain and sun, it is a favorite promenade, and always wears a gay and busy aspect. The intervals between the pillars, next the street, arc filled with cases of toys, pictures, gilt images of saints, 01 gaudy slippers, sarapcs and rebosas. Hero the rancheros may be seen in abundance, buying ornaments for the next festivals. Ven- ders of fruit sit at the corners, their mats filled with fragrant and THE COSTAL NOTORIETY. 377 gleaming pyramids, and the long shelves of cool barley-water and lepachc, ranged in glasses of alternate white and purple, attract QIC thirsty idler. Here and there a group is gathered around placard pasted on the wall some religious edict of the cholera fearing authorities, a list of the fortunate tickets in the last lot tery, or the advertisement of a magnificent cock-fight that is ui come off in the old town of Uruapan. The bulletin at the lottery- office is always surrounded ; ranchcros, housemaids, padres and robbers come up, pull out their tickets from under their cassocks and dirty sarapcs, compare the numbers and walk away with the most complete indifference at their ill luck. The shops belonging to different trades arc always open ; tailors and shoemakers fre- qu^ntly sit in groups in the open corridor, with their work on their knees, undisturbed by the crowds that pass to and fro. I spent several hours daily in the cortal, never tiring of the pictur- esque life it exhibited. It is remarkable how soon a man's misfortunes are made public The second day of my stay in Guadalajara, I believe I was known to most of the inhabitants as " the American who was robbed." This, together with my rugged and dusty suit of clothing, (what was left of it,) made me the subject of general notice ; so, after selling my draft, I hastened to disguise myself ha a white shirt and a pair of Mexican pantaloons. One benefit of this notoriety was, that it was the means of my becoming acquainted with two or three American residents, and through them, with several intel- ligent an I agreeable citizens. I never entered a place under such woful auspices, nor passed the time of my stay more delightfully. IE wralkin^ about the streets I was often hailed with the word " uhtli /" O oy some of the lower class. From the sound I thought it mighl ponsibly be an old Aztec word of salutation 5 but one day I met 378 ELDORADO. man, who, as he Said it, held up a bottle of mescal, and I saw 1 once that he meant whiskey. The fact that it was constantly re- peated to me as an American, gave rather a curious inference as to the habits of 'the emigrants who had passed through the cifj before me. The appearance of Guadalajara on Sunday morning was very cheerful and beautiful. Everybody was in the streets, though not more than half the shops were closed ; the bells rang at interval? from the cathedral and different churches ; the rancheros flocled in from the country, the men in snow-white shirts and blue cal- zoneros, the women in their best rebosas and petticoats of some gay color ; and the city, clean swept by the convicts, and flooded with warm sunshine, seemed to give itself up truly to a holiday. 1 walked down along the banks of the little river which divides it into two unequal parts. The pink towers of the Bishop's Palace rose lightly in the air ; up a long street, the gateway of the Con- vent of San Francisco stood relieved against a shaded court-yard the palms in some of the near gardens rustled in a slow breeze, but the dark shafts of the cypress were silent and immovable. Along the parapets of the bridges, the rancheros displayed their fag- gots of sugar-cane and bunches of bananas, chatting gaily with each other, and with their neighbors who passed by on mules or asses T visited most of the churches during the time of service. Many of them arc spacious and might be made impressive, but they are all disfigured by a tawdry and tasteless style of ornament, a pro- fusion of glaring paint and gilding, ghastly statues, and shocking pictures. The church of the Convent of San Francisco is partly an exception to this censure ; in a sort of loggia it has a large painting of the Last Supper, by a Mexican artist, which is truly a vork of great beauty. ID the body of the church ai e sevo 1 al UD> MOVABLE FORTRESSES 879 doubted originals by Murillo, though not of his best period ; I did not see them. The cathedral, more majestic in proportion, is likewise more simple and severe in its details ; its double row of columns, forming three aisles, the central one supporting a low lome, have a grand effect when viewed from the entrance. It wiw constantly filled with worshippers, most of whom were driven thither by the approach of the cholera. Even in passing its door, a? they crossed the plaza, the inhabitants uncovered or made the sign of the cross an extent of devotion which I never wit- nessed out of Mexico. I found great source for amusement in the carriages collected near the doors during mass-hour. They were all the manufacture of the country, and the most of them dated from the last century. The running works were of immense size, the four wheels sustain- ing a massive and elaborately carved frame, rising five or six feet from the ground, and about twelve feet in length. In the centre of this, suspended in some miraculous manner, hung a large wooden globe, with a door in each side a veritable Noah's Arl in form and solidity, and capable of concealing a whole family (and the Mexican families are always large) in its hollow maw. These machines were frequently made still more ridiculous by the pair of dwarfed, starved mules, hitched to the tongue, so far in id- vance that they seemed to be running away from the mountain which pursued and was about to overwhelm them. I concluded, however, after some reflection, that they were peculiarly adapted to the country. In case of revolution they would be not only bullet but bomb proof, and as there are no good roads among the mountains, they would roll from top to bottom, or shoot off a pro. eipice, without danger to the family within. There arc several extensive carriage manufactories in Guadalajara, but the modern ii80 ELDORADO. fabrics more nearly resemble those of our own cities, retaining only the heavy, carved frame-work, on which the body rests. In the afternoon I went with some friends to make a pasco or the Alamcda. This is a beautiful square on the border of the city shaded with fine trees, and traversed by pleasant walks, radiating from fountains in the centre. It is surrounded by a hedge ol roses, which bloom throughout the whole year, covering with a fragrant shade the long stone benches on which the citizens repose, Don and ranchcro mingled together, smoking their puros and cigaritos. The drive is around the outside of the Alamcda ; 1 saw but a small part of the fashion of Guadalajara, as most of the families were remaining at home to invite the cholera. There were some handsome turn-outs, and quite a number of splendid horses, ridden in the Mexican style, which is perfection itself horse and rider moving as one creature, and having, apparently, but one soul. The Mexican horses are all sprung from the Arabic and Andalusian stock introduced into the country by Oortez, and those large bands which run wild on the plains of Sar Joaquin and in the Camanche country, probably differ but slightl) from the Arab horse of the present day. A still more beautiful scene awaited us in the evening. Tho paseo is then transferred to the plaza, and all the fashionable popu- lation appears on foot a custom which I found in no other Mexi- can city. I went there at nine o'clock. The full moon was shining down over the cathedral towers ; the plaza was almost as distinct as by day, except that the shadows were deeper ; the white arches and pillars of the cortal were defined brilliantly against the black gloom of the corridor, and the rows of orange trcos, with their leaves glittering iu the moonlight, gave out a rare *nd exquisi:e odor from their hidden blossoms. We sat down or TROPIC BEAUTY BY MOONLIGHT. 381 one of the benches, so near the throng of promcnadcrs passing around the plaza, that their dresses brushed our feet. The ladicp were in full dress, with their heads uncovered, and there wcrr many specimens of tropic bcau*y among them. The faint clcai olive of their complexion, like a warm sunset-light on alabaster tne deep, dark, languishing eye, with the full drooping lid thai would fain conceal its fire the ripe voluptuous lip the dark hiir whose silky waves would have touched the ground had they been unbound and the pliant grace and fullness of the form, formed together a type of beauty, which a little queenly ambition would have moulded into a living Cleopatra. A German band in front jf the cathedral played " God save the King" and some of tho melodies oi the Fatherland. About ten o'clock, the throng began to disperse ; we sat nearly an hour longer, enjoying the delicious moonlight, coolness and fragrance, and when I lay down again on the tiles, so far from thinking of Touchstone, I felt glad and grate- ful for having seen Guadalajara. Among the Guadalajarans I met was Don Ramon Luna, a gentleman of great intelligence and refinement. His father emigrated from Spain as a soldier in the ranks, but by pru- dence, energy, and native talent, succeeded in amassing a large fortune. Don Ramon spoke English and French with great fluency, and was, moreover, very enthusiastic on the subject of Mexican antiquities. At his ranche, a few leagues from Guadalajara, he had, as he informed me, a large number of ancient idols and fossil remains, which the workmen had collected by his order. I regretted that the shortness of my stay did not permit me to call on Padre Hajar. of the Convent del Carmen, who formerly resided in Philadelphia, and pub- lished a very able work on the Otomai language. The diligence was to start on Monday. On Saturday afternoon 382 ELDORADO. I sold my horse to a sort of trader living in the meson, for seven dollars, as he was somewhat worn out, and horses were cheap ir Guadalajara. The parting with my good hosts the next day was rather more difficult, and I was obliged to make a positive promise of return within three years, before they would consent that I riiould go. After I had obtained some money and paid them for my board, the old lady told me that thenceforth she would only charge half-price for every meal I chose to take in her house " Thanks to the Supreme King," said she, " I have not been so much in need that I should treat friends and strangers both alike." After this, I only paid a medio for my dinner of eggs, frijoles, lantccas and chili Colorado. On Sunday night I rolled up my few possessions in my sarape, took leave of the family and went to the Casa de Diligtncias to spend the night. The old hostess threw her arms around me and gave me a heariy embrace, and the three daughters followed her example. I did not dislike this expression of friendship and regret, for they were quite beautiful. As I went down the court-yard, the voice of the mother followed rnc: "Go with Ave Maria Purisima, and do not forget Maria de la Ascencion Hidalgo !" CHAPTER XXXVIL IN THI DILIGENCE TO GUANAJUATO THE mozo awoke me shortly after three o'clock, and before 1 had finished dressing, brought me a cup of foaming chocolate and a biscuit. The only other passenger was a student from Topic, on his return to college, in Mexico. The stage already waited for as, and we had no sooner taken our seats on the leather cushions, than " vamonos /" cried the driver, the whip cracked and the wheels thundered along the silent, moonlit streets. The morning was chill, and there was little in the dim glimpses of adobe walla and blank fields on either hand, to interest us ; so wo lay back in the comers and took another nap. The style of diligence travel in Mexico is preferable to that of any other country. The passenger is waked at three o'clock io the morning, has a cup of chocolate brought him, (and no one has drank chocolate who has not drank it there) takes his scat, and has nearly reached the end of the second post by sunrise. The heavy ttage, of Troy manufacture, is drawn by six horses, four leaders abreast, who go at a dashing gallop as long as the road is level About eleven o clock a breakfast cf six or eight courses is served up in good style, the coachman waiting until the last man has Icisurelv fidshcd. There is no twanging of the horn and cry ol 384 ELDORADO. 6 All ready !" before one bas bolted the first mouthful OIF again, there is no stoppage (ill the day's journey is over, which is gener- ally about four o'clock, allowing ample time for a long walk ana sight-seeing before dinner. The second post brought us to the Rio Santiago, which I had crossed once between Mazatlan and Tepic. We got out to looi at the old stone bridge and the mist of a cataract that rose above the banks, two or three hundred yards below. Our road lay across broad, stony tracts of country, diversified by patches of cactus ; in the distance, the mountain parapet of a still higher table-land was to be seen. The third post, thirty miles from Guadalajara, was at the village of Zapotlanejo, where the cholera had already appeared. The groom who assisted in harnessing our fresh horses, informed us that twenty persons had died of it. The place looked quiet and half-deserted ; ninny of the houses were studded with little wooden crosses, stuck into the chinks of the adobes. The village of Tepatitlan, which we passed during the forenoon, was likewise a cholera locality. We dashed through it and ever a bare, blaak upland, many leagues in width, in the middle of which stood the Raucho dc la Tierra Colorada, (Ranche of the Red Earth) OUT breakfast-place. During the afternoon wo crossed a very rough and stony bar- ranca. The chasm at the bottom was spanned by a fine bridge, Bad eight cream-colored mules were in readiness to take us up the asct nt. Even after reaching the level, the road was terribly rough and thy bounds which our stage made as it whirled along, threat- ened to disjoint every limb in our bodies. I received a stunning blow on the crown of my head, from being thrown up violently against the roof. We were truly rejoiced when, late in the after- noon, we saw the little town of San Miguel before us, in a hollow SAN JUAN 1>E LOS LAGOS. 3&j dip of the jilnia. We finished a ride of ninety miles as we drove into it, and found the stage from Lagos already before the hotel. The town did not boast a single " sight," so my companion and 1 took a siesta until dinner was announced. f The next morning our route lay over the dreary table-land, avoiding the many chasms and barrancas with which its surface was seamed : often running upon a narrow ridge, with a gaping hollow on each side. The rancheros were ploughing in some places, but the greater part of the soil seemed to be given up to pasturage. The fields were divided by walls of stone, but frc- pcntly, in the little villages, a species of cactus had been planted so as to form gardens and corrals, its straight, single pillars stand- ing side by side, to the height of ten feet, with scarcely a crevice between. The people we met, were more hale and ruddy in their appearance than those of the Tierra Caliante. As they gal- loped alongside the stage, with their hats off, speaking with the -triver, I thought I had never seen more lightly and strongly made forms, or more perfect teeth. When they laughed, their mouths seemed to blaze with the sparkling white rows exhibited. To- wards noon, we saw, far ahead, the tops of two towers, that ap- peared to rise out of the earth. They belonged to the church of San Juan de Los Lagos, the place of tho great Annual Fair of Mexico a city of five thousand inhabitants, built at the bottom of a deep circular basin, whose rim is only broken on one side by a gash which lets out the waters it collects in the rainy season. Seen from the edge of the basin, just before you commence tho descent, a more fantastic picture could scarcely bs imagined. The towers of the church are among the tallest in Mexico. During the Fair, the basin is filled to its brim, and a tent-city, containing from three hui^drc^ thousand to half a million inhabitants, V n 386 ELDORADO. nlanted in it From Sonora to Oajaca, all Mexico is there, witl a good representation from Santa Fe, Texas and California. We descended by a zigzag road, of splendid masonry, crossed the gul- ley at the bottom by a superb bridge, and stopped at the Diligcucfl Hotel for breakfast. The town was at prayers, on account ol cholera. Five hundred people had already died, and the epidemic was just beginning to abate. I saw several of the ignorant popu- lace issue from their huts on their knees, and thus climb theii painful way up the hill to the cathedral, saying paternosters as they went. Two attendants went before, spreading sarapes on the stones, to save their knees, and taking l hem up after they had passed. We ate a hearty breakfast in spite of the terror around us, and resuming our seats in the diligence, were whirled over hill and plain till we saw the beautiful churches of Lagos in the distance. At the hotel, wl found the stage from Zacatecas jusl in, bringing passengers for Mexico. I took an afternoon stroll through Lagos, visiting the market- place and principal churches, but fourd nothing worthy of parti- cular note. We arose in the moonlight, chocolated in the comedor, or dining-hall, and took our seats seven in all in the diligence We speedily left the neat, gay and pleasant city behind us, and began a journey which promised to be similar to that of the two preceding days a view of barren table-land, covered with stone fences and cactus hedges, on either side, and blue mountains ever in far perspective. With the sun, however, things looked more cheerful, and soon after entering on the third post, we climbed a Btony ctrro, from which opened a splendid view of the Valley ol Leon . Far as the vision extended, the effect was still heightened by a veil of thin blue vapor which arose from the broad leagues of Celd and meadow below iw. In the centre of the picture rose the THE VALLEY OF LON. 387 fipires of Villa de Leon, from the midst of green bailey-fields and gardens of fruit trees. To the eastward, beyond the valley which to the south melted into the sky without a barrier ran the hiofc and rocky ranges of the mineral mountains of Guanajuato. We had nearly crossed the table-land of the Pacific side of Mexico, and these hills were spurs from the spinal ridge of the Continent. Our horses galloped into Leon a large and lively town, which pleased me much better than Lagos. We had a capital breakfast of eight courses in the hall of the Sociedad del Comcrdo, and took IP two fresh passengers, which just filled the diligence. Dashing out of the town, the road led over the level plain, between fields and gardens of great fertility. In the soft morning light, the animation and beauty of the scene were delightful. The peons though I turned immediately, there was no one to be seen. The aguadores, or water-carriers, are another interesting class, as they go about with heavy earthen jars suspended on their backs by a band about the forehead, and another) smaller jar swinging in front to balance it, by a band over the top of the head. The priests, in their black cassocks and shovel hats with brims a yard 'ong, are curious figures ; the monasteries in the city send ( ut large numbers of fat and sensual friars, whose conduct even in pub- lic is a scandal to the respectable part of the community. In all the features of its out-door life, Mexico is quite as motley and picturesque as any of the old cities of Spain. The Republic seems to have in no way changed the ancient order, except bj AZTEC ANTlQtJITIE*. 405 tearing down all the emblems of royalty and substituting the eagle nd cactus in their stead. The scarcity of all antiquities of the Axtet race, will strike travelers who visit the city. Not one stone of the ancient capital \as been left upon another, while, by the gradual recession of the fraters of the lakes, the present Mexico, though built precisely on die site of the ancient one, stands on dry ground. There are fre- qaently inundations, it is true, caused by long-continued rains, T*hich the mountain slopes to the north-east and south-west send I ito the valley, but the construction of the Desagua an immense ( inal connecting Lake Tezcuco with the Rio Montezuma has j reatly lessened the danger. Of all the temples, palaces, and | ablic edifices of the Aztecs, the only remains are the celebrated Calendar, built into one corner of the cathedral, the Sacrificial S tone and a collection of granite gods in the National Museum. I he Calendar is an immense circular stone, probably ten feet in diameter, containing the divisions of the Aztec year, and the as- tronomical signs used by that remarkable people. The remaining antiquities are piled up neglectedly in the court-yard of the Mu- Beum, where the stupid natives come to stare at them, awed, yet apparently fascinated by their huge, terrible features. The Sacrificial Stone is in perfect preservation. It is like a great mill-stone of some ten or twelve feet diameter, with a hollow in the centre, from which a groove slants to the edge, to carry away the blood of the victim. Scattered around it on the pavemen were idols of all grotesque forms, feathered serpents and hidcooa aombinations of human and animal figures. The Aztec war-god, Qaetzalcoatl, was the hugest and most striking of all. He was about fourteen feet in height, with four faces, and as manj pairs of arms and legs, fronting towards the quarters of the com- 406 ELDORADO. pass , his mouth was open and tongue projecting, and in the hollow thus formed, the heart of the victim was thrust, while yet warm and palpitating. His grim features struck me with awe and something like terror, when I thought of the thousands of hu- man hearts that had stained his insatiate tongues. Here, at least, he Aztecs had a truer conception of the Spirit of War than our- selves. We still retain the Mars of the poetic Greeks a figure of strength and energy, and glorious ardor only not the grand monster which all barbaric tribes, to whom war is a natural instinct, build for their worship. There are some relics of the Spanish race in this museum, which I should not omit to mention. In one dusty corner, be- hind a little wooden railing, are exhibited the coats-of-mail of Cortez and Alvarado. The great Cortez, to judge from his helmet, breast-plate and cuishes, was a short, broad-chested and powerful man the very build for daring and endurance. Alvarado was a little taller and more slight, which may account for his celebrated leap the measure of which is still shown on a wall near the city, though the ditch is filled up. In the centre of the court-yard stands the celebrated equestrian statue of Charles IV., by the Mexican sculptor, Tolsa. It is of bronze, and colossal size. In the general spirit and forward action of the figures, it is one of the best equestrian statues in the world. The horse, which was modeled from an Andalusian stallion of pure blood, has been censured. It differs, in fact, very greatly from the pei feet Grecian model, especially in the heavy chest and short round flunk ; but those who have seen the Andalusian horse consider it a perfect type of that breed It is a work in which Mexico may well glory, for any country might be proud to have produced it. CHAPTER XL MEXICAN POLITICS AND POLITICAL MEN. I SPENT one morning during my stay in Mexico, in visiting both Houses of the Mexican Congress, which were then in session, in the National Palace. I could not but regret, on approaching this edifice, that so fine an opportunity for architectural effect had been lost through a clumsy and incongruous plan of building The front of five hundred feet, had it been raised another story, and its flat pink surface relieved by a few simple pilasters and cor- nices, would have equaled that of the Pitti Palace or the Royal Residenz in Munich. One of its court-yards, with a fountain in the centre and double gallery running around the four sides, is nevertheless complete and very beautiful. While looking out of the windows of the Palace on the magnificent square, the foremost picture in my mind's eye was not that of Cortez and Alvarado, battling their way back to Tlascala, after the " Noche Triste ;" not that of the splendid trains of the Viceroys of yet powerful Spain ; but the triumphal entry of Scott, when the little army thai had fought its way in from Chapultepec, greeted his appearanc e on the Plaza with huzzas that brought tears even into Mexican eyes. Think as one may of the character of the war, there are scenes in it which stir the blood and brighten the eye. ELDORADO. Mr. Belden, an American many years resident in Mexico, ac- companied me to the Halls of Congress, and pointed out the prin- cipal characters present. We first visited the Senate Chamber a small elliptical room in the centre of the Palace, There were no desks except for the Secretaries, the members being seated on continuous bench, which ran around the room, with a rail in front of it. Probably two-thirds of the Senators fifteen or twenty in all were present. The best head among them is that of Otero, who, I think, was one of the Cabinet during the war. He is a large, strongly-built man, with features expressing not only intel- ligence, but power. At the end of the room sat Don Luis Cuevas, one of the Commissioners who signed the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo a man of polished bearing, and, from appearance, some- thing of a diplomat. (Jen. Almonte, whose low forehead, broad cheek-bones and dark skin betray his Indian blood, occupied the seat next to Pedraza, the President of a few days during a revo- lution in 1828. Almonte is the son of the Liberator Morelos, and that circumstance alone gave him an interest in my eyes. The demeanor of the Senate is exceedingly quiet and grave. The speeches are short, though not, in consequence, always to the point. On the contrary, I am told that any definite action on any subject is as difficult to be had as in our own Congress. It is better, however, to do nothing decorously, than after a riotous fashion. The Hall of Congress fronts on one of the inner courts of the Palace. It is semi-circular in form, and lighted by windows 01 blue glass, near the top. As in the Senate, the members have no desks, but are ranged along two semi-circular benches, the outer one raised a step from the floor. The Speaker sits on a broad plat- . form, in front of the centre of the chord, with two Secretaries on THE HALL OF CONGRESS. 409 each hand. At each corner of the platform is a circular pulpit just large enough to take in a spare man nearly to the armpits They are used by the members for set harangues. Behind the Speaker's chair, and elevated above it, is a sort of throne with two seats, under a crimson canopy. Here, the President of the Republic and the Speaker of Congress take their seats, at thf opening and close of each Session. Above the canopy, in a gildrd frame, on a ground of the Mexican tricolor, hangs the sword ol Iturbide. A picture of the Virgin of Gruadalupe, with her blue mantle and silver stars, completes the decorations. Around the architrave of the pillars which form the semi-circle and across the cornice of the chord, are inscribed, in letters of gold, the namea of the Mexican Chiefs of the War of Independence conspicuous among them those of Morelos, Bravo, Victoria and Mina. The Mexican Congress elects its Speaker monthly. The in- cumbent at the time, Portillo, was a young man, who presided with admirable dignity and decorum. As in the Senate, the members exhibit a grave and courteous demeanor ; the etiquette of dignified legislation, I presume, is never violated. The only notable Representative present was Arrangoiz, whose name is well known in the United States. I was disappointed in not seeing Alaman, the head of the Monarchist faction, Editor of the Uni- versal^ and author of an excellent History of Mexico, then in the course of publication. Two or three short speeches were made during my visit, but I was not sufficiently versed either in the lan- guage or politics, to get more than the general drift of them Congress appeared to be doing nothing satisfactory ; the thinking population (a very small number) were discontented, and with reason. A short time previous, the Report of the Committee ol Finance came up for discussion. After engaging the House foi 18 410 ELDORADO. several days, daring which many warm speeches were made DU both sides, all seemed ready for a decision ; when, lo ! the mem- bers suddenly determined that they had no right to vote upon it One o'clock the same afternoon was the hour appointed for the presentation of Mr. Letcher, the new Envoy from the United States. On coming out of the Senate Chamber we noticed that the corridor leading to the rooms of the President was deserted by the groups of officers in full uniform who had been lounging aboui the door. Entering the ante-chamber, we found that Mr. Letchei with Mr. Walsh, Secretary of Legation, had just passed into the Hall of Audience. Mr. Belden was well known to all the officers of Government, and his company procured us admission at once. We took our places among the Secretaries of the different De- partments, about half way up the Hall. Gen. Herrera, the Presi- dent, was seated on a platform at the end of the room, under a crimson canopy, having on his right hand Lacunza, Minister ol Foreign Affairs, and on his left Castaneda, Minister of Justice The other Ministers, with a number of officers of the General Staff, were ranged at the foot of the platform. Mr. Letcher had just commenced his address as we entered. He appeared slightly embarrassed during the first phrases, but soon recovered the proper composure. I had no doubt, however, that he would have felt much more at home in making a stump speech in his native Ken- tucky. His address consisted mainly of expressions of good will on the part of the United States, and a desire for more intimate and amicable relations between the two Governments. Gen. Her- rera on receiving the letters accrediting Mr. Letchei replied in a neat speech, cordially responding to the expressions of amity which bad been made, and invoking for both nations the same harmony HERREfcA AND HIS GOVERNMENT. 411 in their mutual relations as they already possessed in their consti- tutional forms. After the interchange of a few compliments, Mr. Letcher took his leave, and immediately afterwards the President rose and left the hall, in company with his Ministers. He bowed to us in pass- ing, probably recognizing us as Americans. He is a man of about sixty, of short stature, and with a countenance whose prominent expression is honesty and benevolence. This corresponds with the popular idea of his character. He is a man of excellent heart, but lacks energy and determination. His Government; though quiet and peaceful enough at present, is not sufficiently strong for Mexico. So long as the several States continue to defj and violate the Federal Compact, a powerful Head is needed to the General Government. The rule of Herrera met with no open opposition At the time of my visit, the country was perfectly quiet. The insurrection in the Sierra Madre had been entirely quelled, and the ravages of the Indians in Durango and Chihuahua appeared to have subsided for a time. Nevertheless, the Conser- vative party, whose tendency is towards a monarchy, was said tc be on the increase a fact no doubt attributable to the influence and abilities of Alaman, its avowed leader. The name of Santa Anna had been brought forward by his friends, as a candidate for Congress from the district of the Capital, though his success was scarcely a matter of hope. Th? Government was still deeply embarrassed by its forced loans, and Congress took the very worst means to settle its diffi- culty A committee, appointed to report some plan of settlement, made the following propositions, which I here give, as a curiosity m legislation : 1. That the Government be authorized to make an amicable arrangement with its creditors, within the space o. 412 ELDORADO. forty days. (!) 2. That such arrangement cannot take cflwcl without the approbation of Congress; (!!) and 3. That tae Go- vernment be authorized to accept a further sum of $300,000 on the American indemnity. The resignation of Sefior Elorriaga the Minister of Finance, was fully expected, and took place, in feet, about three weeks after I left Very few Ministers hold thif office more than two or three months. The entire want of confi- dence between the Executive and Legislative Departments utterly destroys tha efficiency of the Mexican Government. The Minis- ters wear a chain, which is sometimes so shortened by the caprice of Congress, that the proper exercise of their functions is rendered impossible. Several of the States had a short time previous been taking singular liberties with the Constitution. For instance, the Legis- latures of Zacatecas, Durango and Jalisco, had separately passed laws regulating the revenue not only on internal commerce, but foreign imports ! The duties on many articles were enormous, as, for instance, in the State of Jalisco, 37 1-2 cents per Ib. on tobacco, and 75 cents on snuff. Zacatecas, with a curious dis- crimination, imposed a duty of 12 1-2 per cent, on home manu- factures, and 5 per cent, on foreign merchandise ! In such a state of things one knows not which most to wonder at, the audacity of the States, or the patient sufferance of the Supreme Government. I scanned with some curiosity the faces and forms of the chief officers of the Republic as they passed. Hsrrera wore the uniform of a general a more simple costume than that of the other officers present, whose coats were orna- mented with red facings and a profusion of gold embroidery. The Ministers, except Arista, were dressed in plain i'.iits of blank. THE MINISTERS EDITORS. 418 Lacunza is a man of low stature and dark complexion, and a barely perceptible cast of shrewdness is mingled with the natural intelligence of his features. Castafieda, on the other hand, i' tall, thin, with a face of which you are certain, at the first glance that it knows how to keep its owner's secrets. The finest-looking jian present was Gen. Arista, who is six feet high, and stout in proportion, with a large head, light hair closely cropped, fair com- plexion and gray eyes. From the cast of his features, one would take him to be a great overgrown Scotch boy, who had somehow blundered into a generalship. He is said to have the most in- fluential hand in the Cabinet. Among the States of the North there is, as is well known, a powerful party devoted to his in- terests. While in Mexico, I had the pleasure of meeting with Don Vicente Garcia Torres, the talented editor of the Monitor Re- publicano, as well as with several of the writers for El Siglo Diez y Nueve. To M. Rene Masson, the enterprising editor and pro- prietor of Le Trait D' Union, (the only foreign journal in Mexico,) I was also indebted for many courteous attentions. His paper is conducted with more industrj and gives a more in- ^lligible view of Mexican affairs than any of the native prints. The Count de la Cortina, the most accomplished writer in Mexico, and author of several works, was pointed out to me in the street one day He possesses a princely fortune and the fines! picture-gallery in America. CHAPTER ILL RIDES TO CHAPULTEPEC AND GUADALUPE. No American, whatever be his moral creed or political jentiments, should pass through Mexico without a visit to the battle-fields in the Valley, where his country's arms obtained uch signal triumphs. To me they had a more direct, thrilling in- terest than the remains of Aztec Empire or the Spanish Vice- royalty. I was fortunate in seeing them with a companion, to whom every rood of ground was familiar, and who could trace all the operations of Scott's army, from San Augustin to the Grand Plaza in the city. We started for Chapultepec one fine afternoon, with Mr. Belden, taking his carriage and span of black mules. We drove first to the Grarita de Belen, where one of the aqueducts enters the city. Here a strong barricade was carried after the taking of Chapultepec by Pillow's division, while Worth, follow- ing down the line of the other aqueduct, got possession of the Garita de San Cosme. The brick arches are chipped with shot for the whole distance of three miles. The American troops ad- vanced by springing from arch to arch, being exposed, as thej approached the Garita, to a cross-fire from two batteries. The running battle of the Aqueducts, from Chapultepec to Mexico, a distance of three miles, was a brilliant achievement, and had MONTEZUMA'S GARDRW. 415 not our forces been so flushed and excited with the storming of the height, and the spirit of the Mexicans proportionately lessened, the slaughter must have been terrible. We followed the aqueduct, looking through its arches on the fre m wheat-fields of the Valley, the shining villages in the dis- tau te and sometimes the volcanoes, as the clouds grew thinner lwut their white summits. At last, we reached the gate of Chapultepec. Mr. Belden was known to the officer on guard, ui we passed unchallenged into the shade of Montezuma's cy- presses. Chapultepec is a volcanic hill, probably two hundred feet in height, standing isolated on the level floor of the valley. Around its base is the grove of cypress trees, known as Montezu- ma's Garden great, gnarled trunks, which have been formed by the annual rings of a thousand years, bearing aloft a burden of heavy and wide-extending boughs, with venerable beards of gray moss. The changeless black-green of the foliage, the dull, wintry hue of the moss, and the gloomy shadows which always invest this grove, spoke to me more solemnly of the Past of ancient empire, now overthrown, ancient splendor, now fallen into dust, and an- cient creeds now forgotten and contemned, than the shattered pillars of the Roman Forum or the violated tombs of Etruria. I saw them on a shaded, windless day, with faint glimmerings of sunshine between the black and heavy masses of cloud. The air was so still that not a filament of the long mossy streamers trem- bled ; the trees stood like giant images of bronze around the rocky foot of the hill. The father of the band, who, like a hoary-headod leneschal, is stationed at the base of the ascending carriage-way, measures forty-five feet in circumference, and there are m the grove several others of dimensions but little inferior. The first 416 ELDORADU. onset of our troops, in storming Chapultepco, was made undei cover of these trees. Leaving our carriage and mules in charge of the old cypress, w< climbed the hill on foot. The zigzag road still retains its embank ment of adobes and the small corner-batteries thrown up in anti- cipation of the attack ; the marks of the cannon-balls from Tacu- baya and the high ground behind Molino del Rey, are everywher visible. The fortress on the summit of Chapultepec has been for many years used as a National Military Academy. We found a company of the cadets playing ball on a graveled terrace in front of the entrance. One of them escorted us to the private apart- ments of the commanding officer, which are built along the edge of a crag, on the side towards Mexico. Mr. Belden was well ac- quainted with the officer, but, unfortunately, he was absent. His wife, however, received us with great courtesy and sent for one ol the Lieutenants attached to the Academy. A splendid Munich telescope was brought from the observatory, and we adjourned to the balcony for a view of the Valley of Mexico. I wish there was a perspective in words something beyond the mere suggestiveness of sound some truer representative of color, and light, and grand aerial distance ; for I scarcely know how else to paint the world-wide panorama spread around me. Chapultepec, as I have said before, stands isolated in the centre of the Valley. The mountains of Toluca approach to within fifteen miles beyond Ta/rabaya, and the island-like hills of Guadalupe are not very dis- tant, on the opposite side ; but in nearly every other direction the valley fades away for fifty or sixty miles before striking tho foot of the mountains. The forms of the chains which wall in this little world arc made irregular and wonderfully picturesque by tho embaying curves of the Valley now receding far and faint; THE PANORAMA OF THE VALLEY. 417 now piled nearer in rugged and barren grandeur, now tipped witli a spot of snow, like the Volcano of Toluca, or shooting far into the sky a dazzling cone, like cloud-girdled Popocatapel. Bui the matchless Valley how shall I describe that ? How reflect or this poor page its boundless painting of fields and gardens, its pil very plantations of aloes, its fertilizing canals, its shimmering lakes, embowered villages and convents, and the many-towered ca- pital in the centre the boss of its great enameled shield ? Before us the aqueducts ran on their thousand arches towards the city, the water sparkling in their open tops ; the towers of the cathedral, touched with a break of sunshine, shone white as silver against the cloud-shadowed mountains ; Tacubaya lay behind, with its palaces and gardens ; farther to the north Tacuba, with the lone cypress of the " Noche Triste," and eastward, on the point of a mountain- cape shooting out towards Lake Tezcuco, we saw the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Around- the foot of our rocky watch- tower, we looked down on the heads of the cypresses, out of whose dark masses it seemed to rise, sundered by that weird ring from the warmth and light and beauty of the far-reaching valley-uorld. We overlooked all the battle-grounds of the Valley, but I fell a hesitancy at first in asking the Lieutenant to point out the lo- calities. Mr. Belden at length asked whether we could see the height of Padierna, or the pedregal (field of lava) which lies to the left of it. The officer immediately understood our wish, and turning the glass first upon the Pefion Grande, (an isolated hil] near Ayotla,) traced the march of Gen. Scott's army around Lake Chalco to the town of San Augustin, near which the first hostilitiei commenced. We could see but a portion of the field of Padierna. more familiarly known as Contreras. It lies on the lower slope* of tha Nevada of Toluca, and overlooking the scenes of the subse- 418 ELDORADO. quant actions The country is rough and broken, and the cross ing of the famed pedregal, from the far glimpse I had of the ground, must have been a work of great labor and peril. Nearly east of this, on the dead level of the valley, is the memorable field of Churubusco. The tSte de pont, where the brunt of the battle took place, was distinctly visible, and I could count every tree in the gardens of the convent. The panic of the Mexicans on the evening after the fight at Churubusco was described to me as hav- ing been without bounds. Foreigners residing in the capital say it might then have been taken with scarce a blow. Beyond Tacubaya, we saw the houses of Miscoac, where the vmy was stationed for some time before it advanced to the former place. Gen. Scott's head-quarters was in the Bishop's Palace at Tacubaya, which is distinctly seen from Chapultepec and within actual reach of its guns. On an upland slope north of the village and towards Tacuba the shattered walls of the Casa Mata were pointed out. Near at hand almost at the very base of the hill rose the white gable of Molino del Hey. The march of the Attacking lines could be as distinctly traced as on a map. How Chapultepec, which commands every step of the way, could be tftormcd and carried with such a small force, seems almost mira- culous. Persons who witnessed the affair from Tacubaya told me that the yells of the American troops as they ascended the hill in ho face of a deadly hail of grape-shot, were absolutely terrific when they reached the top the Mexicans seemed to lose all thought of further defence, pouring hi bewildered masses out of the door& and windows nearest the city, and tumbling like a torrent of water down the steep rocks. The Lieutenant, who was in Chapultepec at the time, said that one thousand and fifty bombs fell on the fortress before the assault ; tie main tower, the battlements and MEXICAN FEELING TOWARDS THE UNITED STATES 41Q stairways are still broken and shattered from their effects. " Here," said he, as we walked along the summit terrace, " fifty of curs lie buried ; and down yonder" pointing to the foot of the hill " BC many that they were never counted." I was deeply moved by hit calm, sad manner, as he talked thus of the defeat and slaughter & his countrymen. I felt like a participant in the injury, and al- most wished that he had spoken of us with hate and reproach. I do not believe, however, that Mexican enmity to the United States has been increased by the war, but rather the contrary. During all my stay in the country I never heard a bitter word said against us. The officers of our army seem to have made friends everywhere, and the war, by throwing the natives into direct con- tact with foreigners, has greatly abated their former prejudice against all not of Spanish blood. The departure of our troops was a cause of general lamentation among the tradesmen of Mexico and Vera Cruz. Nothing was more common to me than to hear Jenerals Scott and Taylor mentioned by the Mexicans in terms >f entire respect and admiration. " If you should see General Taylor," said a very intelligent gentleman to me, " tell him that the Mexicans all honor him. He has never given up their houses plunder ; he has helped their wounded and suffering ; he is as humane as he is bravt,, and they can never feel enmity towards him " It may be that this generous forgetfulness of injury argues a want of earnest patriotism, but it was therefore none the less patera! to me as an American. We took leave of our kind guide and descended the hill. It was now after sunset ; we drove rapidly through the darkening cypresses and across a little meadow to the wall of Molino del Rey. A guard admitted us into the courtyard, on one side of which corned the tall structure of the mill the other sides were flanked 420 ELDORADO. with low buildings, flat-roofed, with heavy parapets of stone along the outside. Crossing the yard, we passed through another gato to the open ground where the attack was made. This hattle, as ifl ciow generally known, was a terrible mistake, costing the Americans eight hundred lives without any return for the sacrifice. The lo* parapets of the courtyard concealed a battery of cannon, and as our troops came down the bare, exposed face of the hill, rank after rack was mowed away by their deadly discharge. The mill was taken, it is true, but, being perfectly commanded by the guns of Chapultepec, it was an untenable position. It was by this time so dark that we returned to the city by the route we came, instead of taking the other aqueduct and follow- ing the line of Gren. Worth's advance to the Grarita of San Cosme Landing at Mr. Belden's residence, the Hotel de Bazar, we went into the Cafe adjoining, sat down by a marble table under the ever-blooming trees of the court-yard, and enjoyed a ctdrimoya ice how delicious, may readily be imagined when I state that this fruit in its native state resembles nothing so much as a rich va- nilla cream. The Cafe de Bazar is kept by M. Arago, a brother of the French astronomer and statesman, and strikingly like him in features. At night, the light Moorish corridors around his fountained court-yard are lighted with gay-colored lamps, and knots of writers, politicians or stray tourists are gathered there until ten o'clock, when Mexican law obliges the place to be closed. Mr. Peyton and myself procured a pair of spirited mostangb ind one morning rode out to the village of Guadalupo, three miles on the road t Tampico. It was a bright, hot day, and [ztaccihnatl flaunted its naked snows in the sun. The road was wowded with arrieros and rancheros, on their way to and from th GUA1 ALUPE 421 city suspicious characters, some of them, Int we had left oui purses at home and taken our pistols along. The shrine of the Virgin was closed at the timo but we saw the little chapel in which it was deposited and the flight of steps cut in the rock, wnich all devout Christians are expected to ascend on their knees The principal church in the place is a large, imposing structu , but there is a smaller building entirely of blue and white glazed tiles, the effect of which is remarkably neat and unique. Half way up the hill, some rich Mexican who was saved from ship- wreck by calling upon the Virgin of Guadalupe, has erected a votive offering in the shape of an immense mast and three sails, looking, at a distance, like part of an actual ship. After a week in Mexico, I prepared to leave for Vera Cruz, to meet the British steamer of the 16th of February. The seats it, the diligence had all been engaged for ten days previous, and I was obliged to take a place in the pescante, or driver's box, for which I paid $34. Again I rolled my sarape around my scanty luggage and donneu the well-worn corduroy coat. I took leave of my kind friend Mr. Parrot, and lay down to pass my last night in the city of the Moatezumas. CHAPTER XLE THE BABE OF POPOCATEPETL WHEN we were called up by the mozo, at four o'clock, the ah was dark, damp and chilly: not a star was to be seen. The travelers who gathered to take their chocolate in the dining-hall wore heavy cloaks or sarapes thrown over the shoulder and cov- ering the mouth. Among them was my companion from Guana- juato, Don Antonio de Campos. I climbed to my seat in the pescante, above the driver and groom, and waited the order to start. At last the inside was packed, the luggage lashed on behind, and the harness examined by lanterns, to see that it was properly adjusted. " Vamvs /'* cried the driver ; the rope was jerked from the leaders, and away we thundered down the silent streets, my head barely clearing the swinging lamps, stretched from corner to corner. We passed through the great plaza, now dim nd deserted: the towers of the Cathedral were lost in mist. Crossing the canal, we drove through dark alleys to the barrier 01 die city, where an escort of lancers, in waiting among the gloomy court-yards, quietly took their places on either side of us. A chill fog hung over all the valley. The air was benumbing, and I found two coats insufficient to preserve warmth. There are no gardens and fields of maguey on this side of the city, as on that ANOTHER VIEW OF THE VALLEY 423 rf Tacubaya Here and there, a plantation of maize interrupts th uniformity of the barren plains of grass. In many places, the marshy soil bordering on Lake Tezcuco, is traversed by deep ditches, which render it partially fit for cultivation. Leaving the shores of Tezcuco, we turned southward, changed horses at the little Penon, (an isolated hill, between Lakes Chalco and Xochi- milco) and drove on to Ayotla. This is the point where the American army under Gen. Scott left the main road to Mexico, turning around the Penon Grande, south of the town, and taking the opposite shore of Lake Chalco. It is a small, insignificant village, but prettily situated beside the lake and at the foot of the towering Penon ; a little further, a road branches off to Ameca and the foot of Popocatepetl. Here we left the valley, and began ascending the barren slopes of the mountain. Clumps of unsightly cactus studded the rocky soil, which was cut into rough arroyoa by the annual rains. Slowly toiling up the ascent, we changed horses at a large haci- dnda, built on one of the steps of the mountains, whence, looking backward, the view of the valley was charming. The Penon stood in fiont ; southward, towards Ameca and Tenango, stretched a great plain, belted with green wheat-fields and dotted with the white towers of villages. The waters of Chalco were at our feet, and northward, through a gap in the hills, the broad shset of Lake Tezcuco flashed in the sun. But it was not till we had climbed high among the pine forests and looked out from nnder the eaves of the clouds, that I fully realized the grandeur ol this celebrated view. The vision seemed to embrace a world at one glance. The Valley of Mexico, nearly one hundred miles in extent, lay below, its mountain-walls buried in the clouds whick aung like a curtain above the immense pictire. But through 424 ELDORADO rift in this canopy, a broad sheet of sunshine slowly wandered over the valley, now glimmering on the lakes and brightening the green of the fields and gardens, and now lighting up, with wonder- ful effect, the yellow sides of the ranges of hills. Had the morn- ing been clear, the view would have been more extended, but I do not think its broadest and brightest aspect could have surpassed in effect, the mysterious half-light, half-gloom in which I saw it. The clouds rolled around us as I gazed, and the cold wind blew drearily among the pines. Our escort, now increased to twelve lancers, shortened their ascent by taking the mule paths. They looked rather picturesque, climbing in single file through the forest ; their long blue cloaks hanging on their horses' flanks and their red pennons fluttering in the mist. The rugged defiles through which our road lay, are the most famous resort for robbers in all Mexico. For miles we passed through one continued ambush, where frequent crosses among the rocks hinted dark stories of assault and death. Our valorous lancers lagged behind, wherever the rocks were highest and the pines most thickly set ; I should not have counted a single moment on their assistance, had we been attacked. I think I enjoyed the wild scenery of the pass more, from its perils. The ominous gloom of the day and the sound of the wind as it swept the trailing clouds through the woods of pine, heightened this feeling to something like a positive enjoyment. When we reached the inn of Rio Frio, a little below the sum- mit of the pass, on its eastern fide, our greatest danger was over Breakfast was on the table, and the eggs, rice, guisados and frijoles speedily disappeared before our sharp-set appetites. Luckily for our hunger, the diligence from Puebla had not arrived. The little valley of Rio Frio is hedged in by high, piny peaks, somewha. THE TABLE-LAXD OP PUEBLA. 425 resembling the Catskills. Below it, another wild, dangerous pass of two or three miles opens upon the fertile and beautiful table-land of Puebla. The first object that strikes the eye on emerging from the woods, is the peak of Malinche, standing alone on the plain, about midway between the mountain ranges which terminate, on the Mexican side, in Popocatapetl, on the Vera Cruz side, in Orizaba. I looked into the sky, above the tree-tops, for the snows of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatapetl, but only a few white streaks on the side of the former volcano, could be seen. A violent snow-storm was raging along its summit, and upon Popocatapetl, which was entirely hidden from sight. The table-land on which we entered, descends, with a barely perceptible slant, to Puebla a distance of forty miles. Its sur- face, fenceless, and almost boundless to the eye, is covered with wheat and maize. Fine roads cross it ; and the white walls oi haciendas, half-buried in the foliage of their gardens, dot it, at in- tervals, to the feet of the distant mountains. The driver, an in- telligent Mexican, pointed out to me the various points of interest, as we passed along. He professed to speak a little English, too, which he said he had picked up from passengers on the road , but as all his English amounted only to a choice vocabulary ol oaths, it told badly for the character of his passengers. All afternoon the clouds covered the summits of the volcanoes, and stretching like a roof across the table-land, rested on the jroad shoulders of Malinche. As the sun descended, they lifted a little, and I could see the sides of Popocatapetl as far as the limit of the snow; but his head was still hooded. At last, through t break just above the pinnacle of his cone, the light poured in i fall blaze, silvering the inner edges of the clouds with a sudden ind splendid lustre. The snowy apex of the mountain, thed in 426 ELDORADO. full radiance, seemed brighter than the sun itself- a spot o light so pure, so inconceivably dazzling, that though I could not withdraw my gaze, the eye could scarcely bear its excess. Then, as the clouds rolled together once more, the sun climbing throng} umerous rifts, made bars of light in the vapory atmosphere, caching from the sides of Popocatapetl to their bases, many leagues away, on. the plain. It was as if the mountain genii whc built the volcano had just finished their work, leaving these, the airy gangways of their scaffolding, still planted around it, to at- test its marvellous size and grandeur. The most imposing view of Popocatapetl is from the side to- wards Puebla. It is not seen, as from the valley of Mexico, ovei the rims of intermediate mountains, but the cone widens down- ward with an unbroken outline, till it strikes the smooth table- land. On the right, but separated by a deep gap in the rango, is the broad, irregular summit of Iztaccihuatl, gleaming with snow. The signification of the name is the " White Lady," given by the Azteos on account of a fancied resemblance in its outline to the figure of a reclining female. The mountain of Ma- linche, opposite to the volcanoes, almost rivals them in majestic appearance. It rises from a base of thirty miles in breadth, to a height of about thirteen thousand feet. I gazed long upon its cloudy top and wooded waist, which the sun belted with a beam of gold, for on its opposite side, on the banks of a river which we crossed jus* before reaching Puebla, stands the ancient city of Tlascala. f he name of the volcano Malinche, is at, Aztec corruption ol Mariana, the Indian wife of Cortez. I could not look upon it without an ardent desire to stand on its sides, and with Bernal Diaz in hand, trace out the extent of the territory once possessed by his brave and in agnanimous allies. THE PYRAMID OF CHOLULA. 427 On the other hand, between me and the sunset, stood a atfl more interesting memorial of the Aztec power. There, in full view, its giant terraces clearly defined against the sky, the top. most one crowned with cypress, loomed the Pyramid of Cholula The lines of this immense work are for the most part distinctly cut ; on the eastern side, only, they are slightly interrupted by vegetation, and probably the spoliation of the structure. Although several miles distant, and rising from the level of the plain, with out the advantage of natural elevation, the size of the pyramid astonished me. It seems an abrupt hill, equal in height and im- posing form to the long range in front of it, or the dark hill of Tlaloc behind. Even with Popocatepetl for a back-ground, its effect does not diminish. The Spaniards, with all their waste of gold on heavy cathedrals and prison-like palaces, have never equal- ad this relic of the barbaric empire they overthrew. I do not know whether the resemblance between the outline of this pyramid and that of the land of Mexico, from sea to sea, has- been remarked. It is certainly no forced similitude. There is the foundation terrace of the Tierra Caliente ; the steep ascent to the second broad terrace of the table-land ; and again, the succeeding ascent to the lofty, narrow plateau dividing the waters of the con- tinent. If we grant that the forms of the pyramid, the dome, the pillar and the arch, have their antitypes in Nature, it is no fan- ciful speculation to suppose that the Aztecs, with that bieadth ol imagination common to intelligent barbarism, made thar world he model for their temples of worship and sacrifice. Cholula vanished in the dusk, as we crossed the river of Tlas- cala and entered the shallow basin in which stands Puebla. Th many towers of its churches and convents showed picturesquel} b the twilight The streets were filled with gay crowds roturo 428 ELDORADO. ing from the Alameda. Motley maskers, on honebaek and or foot, reminded us that this was the commencement of Carnival. The great plaza into which we drove was filled with stands of fruit- venders, before each of which flared a large torch raiseo upon a pole. The cathedral is in better style, and shows to greater advantage than that of Mexico. So we passed to the Hotel de Diligencias, where a good dinner, in readiness, delighted as more than the carnival or the cathedral. After the final dish of frijoles had been dispatched, I mavoritc along the road, which his sturdy, upright character well deserved. At sunrise we reached the hacienda of El Encero, belonging to Santa Anna, as do most ol the other haciendas between Jalapa and Vcra Cruz. The hill oi Ccrro Gordo appeared before us, and a drive of an hour brought as to tho cluster of cane-huts bearing the samo namo. 438 ELDORADO The physical features of the field of Cerro Gordo are very in tercsting. It is a double peak, rising from the midst of rough, rolling hills, cjvered with a dense thicket of cactus and thornj shrubs. Towards Vera Cruz it is protected by deep barrancai an 1 passes, which in proper hands might be made impregnable. Had Gen. Scott attempted to take it by advancing up the broad highway, he must inevitably have lost the battle ; but by cutting a road through the chapparal with great labor, making a circuit oi several miles, he reached the north-eastern slope of the hill the nost accessible point, and according to the Mexican story, the side least defended. Having gained one of the peaks of the hill, tho charge was made down the side and up the opposite steep in the face of the Mexican batteries. The steady march of our forces under this deadly hail, to the inspiriting blast of the Northern bugles, has been described to me by officers who took part in the fight, as the most magnificent spectacle of the war. After taking the battery, the guns were turned upon the Mexicans, who were flying through the chapparal in all directions. Many, overcome by terror, leaped from the brink of the barranca at the foot of the hill and were crushed to death in the fall. Santa Anna, who escaped at this place, was taken down by a path known to some of the officers. The chapparal is still strewn thickly with bleached bones, principally of the mules and horses who were attached to the ammunition wagons of the enemy. The driver told mo that until recently there were plenty of cannon-balls lying beside the road, but that every American, English or French traveler took one as a relic, till there were no more to be seen. A shallow cave beside the road was pointed out as the spot where the Mexi- cans hid their ammunition. It was not discovered by our troops out a Mexican who knew the secret, sold it to them out of r* CERRO GORDO. 439 venge for the non-payment of some mules which he had furnished to his own army. The driver lay hidden in Jalapa for some dayg previous to the battle, unable to escape, and the first intelligence he received of what had taken place, was that furnished by the sight of the flying Mexicans They poured through the town that evening and the day following, he said, in the wildest disorder, some mounted on donkeys, some on mules, some on foot, many of the officers without hats or swords, others wrapped in the dusty coat of a private, and all cursing, gesticulating and actually weep- ing, like men crazed. They had been so confident of success that the reverse seemed almost heart-breakin^. O A few miles beyond Cerro Gordo we reached Plan del Rio, small village of cane huts, which was burned down by order of Santa Anna, on the approach of the American forces. A splen did stone bridge across the river was afterwards blown up by thr guerillas, iu the foolish idea that they would stop an American specie-train, coming from Vera Cruz. In half a day after tb> train arrived there was an excellent road across the chasm, ana the Mexicans use it to this day, for the shattered arch has nevei been rebuilt. From Plan del Rio to the Puente Nacional is abou* three leagues, through the same waste of cactus and chappara The latter place, the scene of many a brush with the guerilla* duiing the war, is in a very wild and picturesque glen, through which the river forces its way to the sea. The bridge is one of the most magnificent structures of the kind on the continent. On a liti'e knoll, at the end towards Jalapa, stands a stately hacienda belonging to Santa Anna. V r e sped on through the dreary chapparal, now sprinkled with palms and blossoming trees. The country is naturally rich and r iM uc tive, but is little better than a desert. The only inhabitant* 440 ELDORAtO are a set of half-naked Indians, who live in miseiable huts, sup porting themselves by a scanty cultivation of maize, and the dcei they kill in the thickets Just before we reached the sea-shore one of these people came out of the woods, with a little spotted fawn in his arms, which he offered to sell. The driver bought it for a dollar, and the beautiful little creature, not more than tw weeks old, was given to me to carry. I shielded it from the cold sea-wind, and with a contented bleat it nestled down in my lap and soon fell fast asleep. At sunset we drove out on the broad sands bordering the Gulf. A chill norther was blowing, and the waves thundered over the coral reefs with a wintry sound Vcra Cruz sat on the bleak shore, a league before us, her domes and spires painted on the gloomy sky. The white walls of San Juan d'Ulloa rose from the crater beyond the shipping. Not a tree or green thing was to bo seen for miles around the city, which looked as completelj deso- ( ate as if built in the middle of Zahara Nevertheless, I blessed he sight of it, and felt a degree of joy as I passed within its gates, 'or the long journey of twelve hundred miles across the Continent ? as safely accomplished CHAPTER XLIV. FERA CRUZ AND SAM JUAN D'ULLOA HOMEWARD. I CANNOT say much of VcraCruz. A town built and sustained by commerce alone, and that not the most flourishing, presents few points of interest to the traveler. Its physiognomy differs but little from that of the other Mexican cities I have described There is the Plaza, flanked by the Cathedral, the same pink mass of old Spanish architecture, picturesque only for its associa- tions the Diligence Hotel, with its arched corridor forming a cm tal along one side the dreary, half-deserted streets, with -thcb Dccasional palaces of stone enclosing paved and fountained court- yards the market, heaped with the same pyramids of fruit which have become so familiar to us the dirty adobe huts, nearest the walls, with their cut-throat population and finally, the population teclf rendered more active, intelligent and civilized by the pre- mce of a large number of- foreigners, but still comprised mainljf of the half-breed, with the same habits and propensities as we Cud in the interior. The town is contracted ; standing in the plaza, one can pee its four corners, bounded by the walls and the sea, and all within A few minutes' walk Outside of the gates wo come at onca jpon the deserts of sand. 442 ELDORADO. On reaching Vcra Cruz, there were no tidings of the steamer which was duo on the 4th. The U. S. schooner Flirt, Capt Farrcn, was in port waiting for a norther to go down, to sail for New Orleans, hut there was small chance of passage on board of her. On the morning of the 15th, the U. S. steamer Water-witch llapt Totten, made her appearance, bound homeward after a cruise to Havana, Sisal, Carnpeachy and Laguna. I had alinosl determined, in default of any other opportunity, to take passage in her, as a " distressed citizen," when, on rowing out to the Castle of San Juan d'Ulloa on the third morning, one of the boat- men descried a faint thread of smoke on the horizon. " El vapor /" was the general exclamation, and at least fifty dissatisfied nersons recovered their good-humor. My friend Don Antonio was acquainted with the Commandante of the Castle, Don Manuel Robles, by which means we obtained free admission within its coral walls. It is a place of immense strength, and in the hands of men who know how to defend it, need no more be taken than Gibraltar. We climbed to the top of the tower, walked around the parapets, shouted into the echoing wells sunk deep in the rock, and examined its gigantic walls. Tho spongy coral of which it is built receives the shot and shells that have been thrown upon it, without splintering ; here and there we noticed holes where they had imbedded themselves in it, rathei idding to its solidity. We sat two or three hours hi the tower, watching the approaching smoke of the steamer. As the chimes rang noon in Vera Cruz, a terrific blast of trumpets pealed through the courtyard of the Castle, below us. The yellow-faced soldiers, in their white shirts and straw hats with the word " Ulua" upon them, mustered along one side, and after a brief drill, had their dinner of rice frijoles and coffee served to them. The force io UNDAT IN VERA CRUZ. 443 the Castle appeared very small ; the men were buried in its im- mense vaults and galleries, and at times, looking down from tho tower, scarcely a soul was to be seen. The Commandantc invited us to his quarters, aad offered us refreshments, after we had made the round of the parapets. Singularly enough, his room was hung with American engravings of the battles of the late war The most interesting object in Vera Cruz is an old church, in the southern part of the city, which was built by Cortcz, in 1531 the oldest Christian church in the New World. Some miles distant is the old town of Vcra Cruz, which was abandoned for tho present site. I had not time to visit it, nor the traces of the Americans among the sand-hills encircling the city. One Sunday evening, however, I visited the paseo, a paved walk outside tho gate, with walls to keep off the sand and some miserable attempts at trees here and there. As it was Carnival, the place was crowded, but most of the promenaders appeared to be foreigners Beyond the pasco, however, stood a cluster of half-ruined buildings, where the lower class of the native population was gathered at a fandango. After the arrival of the steamer nothing was talked of but our departure and nothing done but to pack trunks and contrive ways of smuggling money, in order to avoid the export duty of six per cent We left Vcra Cruz on the morning of February 19th, and reached Tampico Bar after a run of twenty-two hours. The surf was so high after the recent norther, that we were obliged to wait three days before the little river-steamer could come to us with her nil- lion of dollars. The Thames, however, was so spacious and plea- sant a ship, that we were hardly annoyed by the delay. Coming &om semi-civilized Mexico, the sight of English order and tho en- 444 ELDORAl 9 joyment of English comfort were doubly agvecablc. Among otu passengers were Lady Emeline Stuart TVortley, returning from a heroic trip to Mexico ; Lord Mark Kerr, a gentleman of intelli gence and refinement, and an amateur artist of much talent ; and Mr Hill, an English traveler, on his way home after three ycan *pent in Russia, Siberia, Polynesia, and the interior of South America. My eight days spent on board the Thames, passed away rapidly, and on the afternoon of tho 26th, we made the light-house on Mobile Point, and came-to among the shipping at the anchorage. I transferred myself and sarape to the deck of a high-pressure freight-boat, and after lying all night in the bay, on account of a heavy fog, set foot next morning on the wharf at Mobile. Leaving the same afternoon, I passed two days on the beautiful Alabama River ; was whirled in the cars from Montgomery to Opelika, and jolted twenty-four hours in a shabby stage, over the hills of Georgia, to the station of Griffin, on the Central Railroad , sped away through Atlanta and Augusta to Charleston ; tossed a oight on the Atlantic, crossed the pine-barrens of Carolina and the impoverished fields of the Old Dominion ; halted a day at Washington to deliver dispatches from Mexico, a day at HOME, in Pennsylvania, and finally reached my old working-desk in the Tri- bune Office on the night of March 10th just eight months and night days from the time of my departure. Thus closed a journey more novel and adventurous than any 1 hope to make again. I trust the profit of it has not been whol!j mine, but that the reader who has followed me through the fore going pages, may find some things in them, which to have rea were not also to have forgotten. THE STORY OF KENNETT sr BAYARD TAYLOR AUTHOR'S REVISED Entered recording to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by BAYARD TAYLOR, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. PROLOGUE. To MY FRIENDS AXD NEIGHBORS OF KENNETT : I WISH to dedicate this Story to you, not only because some of you inhabit the very houses, and till the very fields which I have given to the actors in it, but also because many of you will recognize certain of the latter, and are therefore able to judge whether they are drawn with the simple truth at which I have aimed. You are, naturally, the critics whom I have most cause to Year ; but I do not inscribe these pages to you with the design of purchasing your favor. I beg you all to accept the fact as an acknowl- edgment of the many quiet and happy years I have spent among you ; of the genial and pleasant relations into which I was born, and which have never diminished, even when I have returned to you from the farthest ends of the earth ; and of the use (often unconsciously to you, I confess,) which I have drawn from your memories of former days, your habits of thought and of life. I am aware that truth and fiction are so carefully woveu together in this Story of Kennett, that you will sometimes be at a loss to disentangle them. The lovely pastoral land- scapes which I know by heart, have been copied, field foi field and tree for tree, and these you will immediately nr PROLOGUE. recognize. Many of you will have no difficulty in detecting the originals of Sandy Flash and Deb. Smith ; a few wiD remember the noble horse which performed the service I have ascribed to Roger ; and the descendants of a certain family will not have forgotten some of the pranks of Joe and Jake Fairthorn. Many more than these particulars are drawn from actual sources ; but as I have employed them with a strict regard to the purposes of the Story, transferring dates and characters at my pleasure, you will often, I doubt not, attribute to invention that which I owe to family tradition. Herein, I must request that you will allow me to keep my own counsel ; for the processes which led to the completed work extend through many previous years, and cannot readily be revealed. I will only say that every custom I have described is true to the time, though some of them arc now obsolete ; that I have used no pecu- liar word or phrase of the common dialect of the countrj which I have not myself heard ; and further, that I owe the chief incidents of the last chapter, given to me on he? death-bed, to the dear and noble woman whose charactei (not the circumstances of her life) I have endeavored to reproduce in that of Martha Deane. The country life of our part of Pennsylvania retains more elements of its English origin than that of New England or Virginia. Until within a few years, the conservative influence of the Quakers was so powerful that it continued to shape the habits even of communities -whose religious sentiment it failed to reach. Hence, whatever might be selected as incorrect of American life, in its broader sense, in these pages, is nevertheless locally true ; and to this, at least, all of you, my Friends and Neighbors, can testify. In these days, when Fiction prefers to deal with abnormal PROLOGUE. f characters and psychological problems more or less excep- tional or morbid, the attempt to represent the elements of life in a simple, healthy, pastoral community, has been to me a source of uninterrupted enjoyment May you read it with half the interest I have felt in -writing it ! BAYABD TAYLOR. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. THE CHASE CHAPTER H. WHO SHALL HAVE THE BRUSH ? CHAPTER HI. MARY POTTER AND HER SON ............................. 23 CHAPTER IV. FORTUNE AND MISFORTUNE ............................. 33 CHAPTER V. QUESTS AT FAIRTHORN'S ................................. 45 CHAPTER VI. THE NEW GILBERT ....................................... 67 CHAPTER VII. f --." . . . ' OLD KENNETT MEETING .................................. 67 CHAPTER VLH. AT DR. DEANE'S ................ ......... . . ............ 77 CHAPTER IX. THE RAISING. . 88 CHAPTER X. THE RIVALS. :: : '108 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PACJB GUESTS AT POTTER'S 112 CHAPTER XH. THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING. <. .., ... . ., 121 CHAPTER XIII. TWO OLD MEN 1 rrrr^TT 133 CHAPTER XIV. DOUBTS AND SURMISES 143 CHAPTER XV. ALFRED BARTON BETWEEN TWO FIRES 155 CHAPTER XVI. MARTHA DEANE 166 CHAPTER XVII. CONSULTATIONS 179 CHAPTER XVIII. SANDY FLASH REAPPEARS 191 CHAPTER XIX. THE HUSKING FROLIC 205 CHAPTER XX. GILBERT ON THE ROAD TO CHESTER 8,1.9 CHAPTER XXI. #OGER REPAYS HIS MASTER _,.. ... . 231 CHAPTER XXII. MARTHA DEANE TAKES A RESOLUTION 346 CHAPTER XXIII. :4. CROSS-EXAMINATION. .. ..,.. 861 CONTENTS. t CHAPTER XXIV. PACE DEB. SMITH TAKES A RESOLUTION 273 CHAPTER XXV. TWO ATTEMPTS 287 CHAPTER XXVI. THE LAST OF SANDY FLASH 801 CHAPTER XXVTI. GILBERT INDEPENDENT 815 CHAPTER XXVUL MISS LAVENDER MAKES A GUESS 827 CHAPTER XXTX. MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENTS 842 CHAPTER XXX. THE FUNERAL 355 CHAPTER XXXI. THE WILL 367 CHAPTER XXXII. THE LOVERS 882 CHAPTER XXXTn. HUSBAND AND WIFE 394 CHAPTER XXXIV. THEWEDDLNQ 4 06 CHAPTER L THE CHASE. AT noon, on the first Saturday of March, 1796, there ras an unusual stir at the old Barton farm-house, just across the creek to the eastward, as you leave Kennett Square by the Philadelphia stage-road. Any gathering of the people at Barton's was a most rare occurrence ; yet, on that day and at that hour, whoever stood upon the porch of the corner house, in the village, could see horsemen ap- proaching by all the four roads which there met. Some five or six had already dismounted at the Unicorn Tavern, and were refreshing themselves with stout glasses of " Old Rye," while their horses, tethered side by side to the pegs in the long hitching-bar, pawed and stamped impatiently. An eye familiar with the ways of the neighborhood might have surmised the natxire of the occasion which called so many together, from the appearance and equipment of these horses. They were not heavy animals, with the marks of plough-collars on their broad shoulders, or the hair worn off their rumps by huge breech-straps ; but light and clean-limbed, one or two of them showing signs of good blood, and all more carefully groomed than usual. Evidently, there was no " vendue " at the Barton farm- house ; neither a funeral, nor a wedding, since male guests seemed to have been exclusively bidden. To be sure, Betsy Lavender had been observed to issue from Dr. 1 2 THE STORY OF KENNfTT. Peanc's door, on the opposite side of the way, and turn into the path beyond the blacksmith's, which led down through the wood and over the creek to Barton's; but then, Miss Lavender was known to be handy at all times, and capable of doing all things, from laying out a corpse to spicing a wedding-cake. Often self-invited, but always welcome, very few social or domestic events could occur in four townships (East Marlborough, Kennett, Pennsbury, and New-Garden) without her presence ; while her knowl- edge of farms, families, and genealogies extended up to Fallowfield on one side, and over to Birmingham on tho other. It was, therefore, a matter of course, whatever the pres- ent occasion might be, that Miss Lavender put on her broad gray beaver hat, and brown stuff cloak, and took the way to Barton's. The distance could easily be walked in five minutes, and the day was remarkably pleasant for the season. A fortnight of warm, clear weather had extracted the last fang of frost, and there was already green grass in the damp hollows. Bluebirds picked the last year's berries from the cedar-trees ; buds were bursting on the swamp- willows ; the alders were hung with tassels, and a powdery crimson bloom began to dust the bare twigs of the maple- trees. All these signs of an early spring Miss Lavender noted as she picked her way down the wooded bank. Once, indeed, she stopped, wet her forefinger with her tongue, and held it pointed in the air. There was very little breeze, but this natural weathercock revealed from what direction it came. " Southwest ! " she said, nodding her head " Lucky I ' Having crossed the creek on a flat log, secured with stakes at either end, a few more paces brought her to the warm, gentle knoll, upon which stood the farm-house. Here, the wood ceased, and the creek, sweeping around to the eastward, embraced a quarter of a mile of rich bottom- land, before entering the rocky dell below. It was a pleas- THE STORY OF KENNETT. ant seat, and the age of the house denoted that one oi the earliest settlers had been quick to perceive its advantages. A hundred years had already elapsed since the masons had run up those walls of rusty hornblende rock, and it was even said that the leaden window-sashes, with their dia- mond-shaped panes of greenish glass, had been brought over from England, in the days of William Penn. In fact, the ancient aspect of the place the tall, massive chimney at the gable, the heavy, projecting eaves, and the holly-bush in a warm nook beside the front porch, had, nineteen years before, so forcibly reminded one of Howe's soldiers of his father's homestead in mid-England, that he was numbered among the missing after the Brandywine battle, and pres- ently turned up as a hired hand on the Barton farm, where he still lived, year in and year out An open, grassy space, a hundred yards in breadth, in- tervened between the house and the barn, which was built against the slope of the knoll, so that the bridge to the threshing-floor was nearly level, and the stables below weie sheltered from the north winds, and open to the winter sun* On the other side of the lane leading from the high-road stood a wagon-house and corn-crib the latter empty, yet evidently, in spite of its emptiness, the principal source of attraction to the visitors. A score of men and boys peeped between the upright laths, and a dozen dogs howled and sprang around the smooth corner-posts upon which the structure rested. At the door stood old Giles, the military straggler already mentioned now a grizzly, weather- beaten man of fifty with a jolly grin on his face, and a short leather whip in his hand. " "Want to see him, Miss Betsy ? " he asked, touching ms mink-skin cap, as Miss Lavender crawled through the near- est panel of the lofty picket r ence. " See him ? " she repeated. " Don't care if I do, afore goin' into th' house." <* Come up, then ; out o' the way, Cato Fan, take that, 4 THE STORY OF KENNETT. you slut 1 Don't be afeard, Miss Betsy ; if folks kept cm in the leash, as had ought to be done, I 'd have less trouble They 're mortal eager, and no wonder. There ! a'n'l he a sly-lookin' divel ? If I 'd a hoss, Miss Betsy, I 'd fol- ler with the best of 'em, and maybe you would n't have the brush ? " " Have the brush. Go along, Giles ! He 's an old ona and knows how to take care of it Do keep off the dread- ful dogs, and let me git down ! " cried Miss Lavender, gathering her narrow petticoats about her legs, and survey- ing the struggling animals before her with some dismay. Giles's whip only reached the nearest, and the excited pack rushed forward again after every repulse ; but at this juncture a tall, smartly-dressed man came across the lane, kicked the hounds out of the way, and extended a helping hand to the lady. " Ho, Mr. Alfred ! " said she ; " Much obliged. Miss Ann 's bavin' her hands full, I reckon ? " Without waiting for an answer, she slipped into the yard and along the front of the house, to the kitchen entrance, at the eastern end. There we will leave her, and return to the group of gentlemen. Any one could see at a glance that Mr. Alfred Barton was the most important person present. His character of host gave him, of course, the right to control the order of the coming chase; but his size and swaggering air of strength, his new style of hat, the gloss of his blue coat, the cut of his buckskin breeches, and above all, the splen- dor of his tasselled top-boots, distinguished him from his more homely apparelled guests. His features were large and heavy : the full, wide lips betrayed a fondness for in- dulgence, and the small, uneasy eyes a capacity for con- cealing this and any other quality which needed conceal- ment. They were hard and cold, generally more than half hidden under thick lids, and avoided, rather than sought, the glance of the man to whom he spoke. His hair, a THE STORY OF KENNETT. 6 mixture of red-brown and gray, descended, without a break, into bushy whiskers of the same color, and was cut shorter at the back of the head than was then customary Something coarse and vulgar in his nature exhaled, like a powerful odor, through the assumed shell of a gentleman, which he tried to wear, and rendered the assumption useless. A few guests, who had come from a distance, had just finished their dinner in the farm-house. Owing to causes which will hereafter be explained, they exhibited less than the usual plethoric satisfaction after the hospitality of the country, and were the first to welcome the appearance of a square black bottle, which went the rounds, with the ob- servation : " Whet up for a start ! " Mr. Barton drew a heavy silver watch from his fob, and carefully holding it so that the handful of glittering seals could be seen by everybody, appeared to meditate. " Five minutes to one," he said at last " No use in waiting much longer ; 't is n't good to keep the hounds fretting. Any signs of anybody else ? " The others, in response, turned towards the lane and highway. Some, with keen eyes, fancied they could detect a horseman through the wood. Presently Giles, from his perch at the door of the corn-crib, cried out : " There 's somebody a-comin' up the meadow. I don'l know the hoss ; rides like Gilbert Potter. Gilbert it is, blast me ! new-mounted." " Another plough-horse ! " suggested Mr. Joel Ferris, a young Pennsbury buck, who, having recently come into a legacy of four thousand pounds, wished it to be forgotten that b< had never ridden any but plough-horses until wi bin the year. The others laughed, some contemptuously, glancing at their own well-equipped animals the while, some constrain- edly, for they knew the approaching guest, and felt a slight compunction in seeming to side with Mr. Ferris. Barton 6 THE STORY OF KENNETT. began to smile stiffly, but presently bit his lip and drew his brows together. Pressing the handle of his riding-whip against his chin, be stared vacantly up the lane, muttering " We must wait, I suppose." His lids were lifted in wonder the next moment; he seized Ferris by the arm, and exclaimed : " Whom have we here ? " All eyes turned in the same direction, descried a dashing horseman in the lane. " Upon my soul I don't know," said Ferris. " Anybody expected from the Fagg's Manor way ? " " Not of my inviting," Barton answered. The other guests professed their entire ignorance of the stranger, who, having by this time passed the bars, rode directly up to the group. He was a short, broad-shoul- dered man of nearly forty, with a red, freckled face, keen, snapping gray eyes, and a close, wide mouth. Thick, jet- black whiskers, eyebrows and pig-tail made the glance of those eyes, the gleam of his teeth, and the color of his skin where it was not reddened by the wind, quite daz- zling. This violent and singular contrast gave his plain, common features an air of distinction. Although, his mul- 9 berry coat was somewhat faded, it had a jaunty cut, and if his breeches were worn and stained, the short, muscular thighs and strong knees they covered, told of a practised horseman. He rode a large bay gelding, poorly groomed, and ap- parently not remarkable for blood, but with no marks of harness on his rough coat. " Good - day to you, gentlemen ! " said the stranger, familiarly knocking the handle of his whip against hu cocked hat. " Squire Barton, how do you do?" "How do you do, sir?" responded Mr. Barton, instantly flattered by the title, to which he had no legitimate right f< 1 believe," he added, " you have the advantage of me." THE STOIl? OF KENNETT. 7 A broad smile, or rather grin, spread over the stranger's face. His teeth flashed, and his eyes shot forth a bright, malicious ray. He hesitated a moment, ran rapidly over the faces of the others without perceptibly moving his head, and noting the general curiosity, said, at last: " I hardly expected to find an acquaintance in this neigh- borhood, but a chase makes quick fellowship. I happened to hear of it at the Anvil Tavern, am on my -way to the Rising Sun; so, you see, if the hunt goes down Tuffkeua- mon, as is likely, it 's so much of a lift on the way." u All right, glad to have you join us. What did you say }'our name was ? " inquired Mr. Barton. " I did n't say what ; it 's Fortune, a fortune left to me by my father, ha ! ha ! Don't care if I do " With the latter words, Fortune (as we must now cal 1 him) leaned down from his saddle, took the black bottle from the imresisting hands of Mr. Ferris, inverted it against his lips, and drank so long and luxuriously as to bring water into the mouths of the spectators.' Then, wiping his mouth with the back of his freckled hand, he winked and nodded his head approvingly to Mi. Barton. Meanwhile the other horseman had arrived from the meadow, after dismounting and letting down the bars, over which his horse stepped slowly and cautiously, a circum- stance which led some of the younger guests to exchange quie*, amused glances. Gilbert Potter, however, received a hearty greeting from all, including the host, though the latter, by an increased shyness in meeting his gaze, mani- fested some secret constraint. "I was afraid I should have been too late," said Gilbert: "the old break in the hedge is stopped at last, so I came over the hill above, without thinking on the swampy bit, this side." " Breaking your horse in to rough riding, ch ? " said Mr. Ferris, touching a neighbor with his elbow. Gilbert smiled good-humoredly, but said nothing, and a little laugh went around the circle. t THE STORT OF KENNETT. Mr. Fortune seemed to understand the matter in a flash. He looked at the brown, shaggy-maned animal, standing behind its owner, with its head down, and said, in a low, sharp tone : " I see where did you get him ? " Gilbert returned the speaker's gaze a moment before he answered. " From a drover," he then said. " By the Lord ! " ejaculated Mr. Barton, who had again conspicuously displayed his watch, " it 's over half-past one. Look out for the hounds, we must start, if we mean to* do any riding this day ! " The owners of the hounds picked out their several ani- mals and drugged them aside, in which operation they were uproariously assisted by the boys. The chase it Kennett, it must be confessed, was but a very faint shadow of the old English pastime. It had been kept up, in the neighborhood, from the force of habit in the Colonial times, and under the depression which the strong Quaker element among the people exercised upon all sports and recreations. The breed of hounds, not being restricted to close communion, had considerably degenerated, and few, even of the richer farmers, could afford to keep thorough- bred hunters for this exclusive object. Consequently all the features of the pastime had become rude and imperfect, and, although very respectable gentlemen still gave it their countenance, there was a growing suspicion that it was a questionable, if not demoralizing diversion. It would be more agreeable if we could invest the present occasion with a little more pomp and dignity ; but we must describe the event precisely as it occurred. The first to greet Gilbert were his old friends, Joe and Jake Fairthorn. These boys loudly lamented that their ftaher had denied them the loan of his old gray mare, Bonnie; they could ride double on a gallop, they said; *nd would n't Gilbert take them along, one before and one behind him ? But he laughed and shook his head. u Well, we 've got Watch, anyhow," said Joe, who there THE STORY OF KENNETT. 9 upon began whispering very earnestly to Jake, as the latter seized the big family bull-dog by the collar. Gil- bert foreboded mischief, and kept his eye upon the pair. A scuffle was heard in the corn-crib, into which Giles had descended. The boys shuddered and chuckled in a state of delicious fear, which changed into a loud shout of triumph, as the soldier again made his appearance at the door, with the fox in his arms, and a fearless hand around its muzzle. "By George! what a fine brush!" exclaimed Mr. Ferris. A sneer, quickly disguised in a grin, ran over Fortune's face. The hounds howled and tugged ; Giles stepped rapidly across the open space where the knoll sloped down to the meadow. It was a moment of intense expec- tation. Just then, Joe and Jake Fairthorn let go their hold on the bull-dog's collar ; but Gilbert Potter caught the animal at the second bound. The boys darted behind the corn- crib, scared less by Gilbert's brandished whip than by the wrath and astonishment in Mr. Barton's face. " Cast him off, Giles I" the latter cried. The fox, placed upon the ground, shot down the slope and thro.igh the fence into the meadow. Pausing then, as if first to assure himself of his liberty, he took a quick, keen survey of the ground before him, and then started off towards the left. " He 's making for the rocks ! " cried Mr. Ferris ; to O which the stranger, who was now watching the animal with lharp interest, abruptly answered, " Hold your tongue!" Within a hundred yards the fox turned to the right, and now, having apparently made up his mind to the course, struck away in a steady but not hurried trot In a minute he had reached the outlying *rees of the Umber along th* creek. 10 THE STORY OF KENNITT. " He 's a cool one, he is ! " remarked Giles, admiringly By this time he was hidden by the barn from the sight of the hounds, and they were let loose. While they darted about in eager quest of the scent, the hunters mounted in has':e. Presently an old dog gave tongue like a trumpet, the pack closed, and the hoi-semen followed. The boys kept pace with them over the meadow, Joe and Jake taking the lead, until the creek abruptly stopped their race, when they sat down upon the bank and cried bitterly, as the last of the hunters disappeared through the thickets on the further side. It was not long before a high picket-fence confronted the riders. Mr. Ferris, with a look of dismay, dismounted. Fortune, Barton, and Gilbert Potter each threw off a heavy "rider," and leaped their horses over the rails. The others followed through the gaps thus made, and all swept across the field at full speed, guided by the ring- ing cry of the hounds. When they reached the Wilmington road, the cry swerved again to the left, and most of the hunters, with Barton at their head, took the highway in order to reach the cross- road to New-Garden more conveniently. Gilbert and Fortune alone sprang into the opposite field, and kept a straight southwestern course for the other branch of Red- ley Creek. The field was divided by a stout thorn-hedge from the one beyond it, and the two horsemen, careering neck and neck, glanced at each other curiously as they approached this barrier. Their respective animals were transformed ; the unkempt manes were curried by the wind, as they flew ; their sleepy eyes were full of fire, and the splendid muscles, aroused to complete action, marked their hides with lines of beauty. There was no wavering in either ; side by side they hung in flight above the hedge, And side by side struck the clean turf beyond. Then Fortune turned his head, nodded approvingly to Gilbert, and muttered to himself: " He 's a gallant fellow, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 11 1 11 not rob him of the brush." But he laughed a short, brill, wicked laugh the next moment. Before they reached the creek, the cry of the hounds ceased. They halted a moment on the bank, irresolute. " He must have gone down towards the snuff-mill," said Gilbert, and was about to change his course. " Stop," said the stranger ; " if he has, we 've lost him any way. Hark! hurrah!" A deep bay rang from the westward, through the forest Gilbert shouted: "The lime-quarry!" and dashed across the stream. A lane was soon reached, and as the valley opened, they saw the whole pack heading around the yel- low mounds of earth which marked the locality of the quarry. At the same instant some one shouted in the rear, and they saw Mr. Alfred Barton, thundering after, and ap- parently bent on diminishing the distance between them. A glance was sufficient to show that the fox had not taken refuge in the quarry, but was making a straight course up the centre of the valley. Here it was not so easy to follow. The fertile floor of Tuff kenamon, stripped of woods, was crossed by lines of compact hedge, and, moreover, the huntsmen were not free to tear and trample the springing wheat of the thrifty Quaker farmers. Nev- ertheless, one familiar with the ground could take advan- tage of a gap here and there, choose the connecting pas- ture-fields, and favor his course with a bit of road, when the chase swerved towards either side of the valley. Gil- bert Potter soon took the lead, closely followed by Foi> tune. Mr. Barton was perhaps better mounted than either, but both horse and rider were heavier, and lost in the moist fields, while they gained rapidly where the turf was firm. After a mile and a half of rather toilsome riding, all three were nearly abreast The old tavern of the Ham- mer and Trowel was visible, at the foot of the northern toll ; the hounds, in front, bayed in a straight line toward* 12 THE STORY OF KENNETT. A von dale Woods, but a long slip of un drained bog made its appearance. Neither gentleman spoke, for each was silently tasking his wits how to accomplish the passage most rapidly. The horses began to sink into the oozy soil ; only a very practised eye could tell where the sur- face was firmest, and even this knowledge was but slight advantage. Nimbly as a cat Gilbert sprang from the saddle, still holding the pummel in his right hand, touched his horse's flank with the whip, and bounded from one tussock to another. The sagacious animal seemed to understand and assist his manoeuvre. Hardly had he gained firm ground than he was in his seat again, while Mr. Barton was still plunging in the middle of the bog. By the time he had reached the road, Gilbert shrewdly guessed where the chase would terminate. The idlers on the tavern-porch cheered him as he swept around the corner ; the level highway rang to the galloping hoofs of his steed, and in fifteen minutes he had passed the long and lofty oak woods of Avondale. At the same moment, fox and hounds broke into full view, sweeping up the meadow on his left. The animal made a last desperate effort to gain a lair among the bushes and loose stones on the northern hill; but the hunter was there before him, the hounds were within reach, and one faltering moment decided his fate. Gilbert sprang down among the frantic dogs, and saved the brush from the rapid dismemberment which had al- ready befallen its owner. Even then, he could only as- sure its possession by sticking it into his hat and remount- ing his horse. When he looked around, no one was in sight, but the noise of hoofs was heard crashing through the wood. Mr. Ferris, with some dozen others, either anxious to spare their horses or too timid to take the hedges in the valley, had kept the cross-road to New- Garden, whence s TKF STOUY OF KENNSTT. 13 lane along the top of the southern hill led them into the Avondale Woods. They soon emerged, shouting and yell- ing, upon the meadow. The chase was uj ; and Gilbert Potter, on his " plough - horse," was the only huntsman in at the death. 14 THE STORY OF KENNETT. CHAPTER IL WHO SHALL HAVE THE BRUSH? MR. BARTON and Fortune, who seemed to have become wonderfully intimate during the half hour in which they had ridden together, arrived at the same time. The hunt- ers, of whom a dozen were now assembled (some five or six inferior horses being still a mile in the rear), were all astounded, and some of them highly vexed, at the result of the chase. Gilbert's friends crowded about him, asking questions as to the course he had taken, and examining the horse, which had maliciously resumed its sleepy look, and stood with drooping head. The others had not sufficient tact to disguise their ill-humor, for they belonged to that class which, in all countries, possesses the least refinement the uncultivated rich. " The hunt started well, but it 's a poor finish," said one of these. " j^ever mind ! " Mr. Ferris remarked ; " such things come by chance." These words struck the company to silence. A shock, felt rather than perceived, fell upon them, and they looked at each other with an expression of pain and embarrass- ment. Gilbert's face faded to a sallow paleness, and his eyes were fastened upon those of the speaker with a fierce and dangerous intensity. Mr. Fei'ris colored, turned away, and called to his hounds. Fortune was too sharp an observer not to remark the disturbance. He cried out, and his words produced an in- stant, general sense of relief: " It 's been a fine run, friends, and we can't do belteJ tHE STORY OF KENNETT. 15 than ride back to the Hammer and Trowel, and take a 'smaller ' or a ' bigger ' for that matter at my expense. You must let me pay my footing now, for I hope to ride with you many a time to come. Faith ! If I don't happen to buy that place down by the Rising Sun, I '11 try to find another, somewhere about New London or Westgrovc, so that we can be nearer neighbors." With that he grinned, rather than smiled ; but although his manner would have struck a cool observer as being mocking instead of cordial, the invitation was accepted with great show of satisfaction, and the horsemen fell into pairs, forming a picturesque cavalcade as they passed under the tall, leafless oaks. Gilbert Potter speedily recovered his self-possession, but his face was stern and his manner abstracted. Even the marked and careful kindness of his friends seemed secretly to annoy him, for it constantly suggested the something by which it had been prompted. Mr. Alfred Barton, how- ever, whether under the influence of Fortune's friendship, or from a late suspicion of his duties as host of the day, not unkindly complimented the young man, and insisted on filling his glass. Gilbert could do no less than courte- ously accept the attention, but he shortly afterwards stole away from the noisy company, mounted his horse, and rode slowly towards Kennett Square. As he thus rides, with his eyes abstractedly fixed before him, we will take the opportunity to observe him more closely. Slightly under-sized, compactly built, and with strongly-marked features, his twenty-four yeurs have the effect of thirty. His short jacket and knee-breeches of gray velveteen cover a chest broad rather than deep, and reveal the fine, narrow loins and muscular thighs of a frame matured and hardened by labor. His hands, also, are hard and strong, but not ungraceful in form. His neck, not too short, is firmly planted, and the carriage of his head indicates patience and energy. Thick, dark hail 16 THE STOKY OF KENNETT. enframes his square forehead, and straight, somewhat heavy brows. His eyes of soft dark-gray, are large, clear, and steady, and only change their expression under strong ex- citement. His nose is straight and short, his mouth a little too wide for beauty, and less firm now than it will be ten years hence, when the yearning tenderness shall have van- ished from the corners of the lips ; and the chin, in its broad curve, harmonizes with the square lines of the brow. Evidently a man whose youth has not been a holiday ; who is reticent rather than demonstrative ; who will be strong in his loves and long in his hates ; and, without being of a despondent nature, can never become heartily sanguine. The spring-day was raw and overcast, as it drew towards its close, and the rider's musings seemed to accord with the change in the sky. His face expressed a singular mix- ture of impatience, determined will, and unsatisfied desire But where most other men would have sighed, or given way to some involuntary exclamation, he merely set his teeth, and tightened the grasp on his whip-handle. He was not destined, however, to a solitary journey. Scarcely had he made three quarters of a mile, when, on approaching the junction of a wood-road which descended to the highway from a shallow little glen on the north, the sound of hoofs and voices met his ears. Two female fig- ures appeared, slowly guiding their horses down the rough road. One, from her closely-fitting riding-habit of drab cloth, might have been a Quakeress, but for the feather (of the same sober color) in her beaver hat, and the rosette of dark red ribbon at her throat. The other, in bluish-gray, with a black beaver and no feather, rode a heavy old horse with a blind halter on his head, and held the stout leathern reins with a hand covered with a blue woollen mitten. She rode in advance, paying little heed to her seat, but rather twisting herself out of shape in the saddle in order to chat- ter to her companion in the rear. ** Do look where you are going, Sally 1 " cried the lattei THE STORY OF KENNETT. 17 as the blinded horse turned aside from the road to drink at a little brook that oozed forth from under the dead leaves, Thus appealed to, the other lady whirled around with a half-jump, and caught sight of Gilbert Potter and of her horse's head at the same instant "Whoa there, Bonnie!" she cried. "Why, Gilbert, where did you come from ? Hold up your head, I say . Martha, here 's Gilbert, with a brush in his hat ! Don't be afraid, you beast. ; did you never smell a fox ? Here, ride in between, Gilbert, and tell us all about it ! No, not on that side, Martha ; you can manage a horse better than lean!" In her efforts to arrange the order of march, she drove her horse's head into Gilbert's back, and came near losing her balance. With amused screams, and bursts of laugh- ter, and light, rattling exclamations, she finally succeeded in placing herself at his left hand, while her adroit and self-possessed companion quietly rode up to his right Then, dropping the reins on their horses' necks, the two ladies resigned themselves to conversation, as the three slowly jogged homewards abreast " Now, Gilbert ! " exclaimed Miss Sally Fairthorn, after waiting a moment for him to speak ; " did you really earn the brush, or beg it from one of them, on the way home ?' " Begging, you know, is my usual habit," he answered, mockingly. " I know you 're as proud as Lucifer, when you 've a mind to be so. There!" Gilbert was accustomed to the rattling tongue of his left-hand neighbor, and generally returned her as good as she gave. To-day, however, he was in no mood for repar- tee. He drew down his brows and made no answer to hei charge. " Where was the fox earthed ? " asked the other lady ; after a rapid glance at his face. a 18 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Martha Deane's voice was of that quality which compel* an answer, and a courteous answer, from the surliest of mankind. It was not loud, it could scarcely be called musical ; but every tone seemed to exhale freshness as of dew, and brightness as of morning. It was pure, slightly resonant ; and all the accumulated sorrows of life could not have veiled its inherent gladness. It could never grow harsh, never be worn thin, or sound husky from weariness ; it$ first characteristic would always be youth, and the joy of youth, though it came from the lips of age. Doubtless Gilbert Potter did not analyze the charm which it exercised upon him ; it was enough that he felt and submitted to it A few quiet remarks sufficed to draw from him the story of the chase, in all its particulars, and the lively interest in Martha Deane's face, the boisterous glee of Sally Fairthorn, with his own lurking sense of tri- umph, soon swept every gloomy line from his visage. His mouth relaxed from its set compression, and wore a win- ning sweetness ; his eyes shone softly-bright, and a nimble spirit of gayety gave grace to his movements. ""Fahly won, I must say !" exclaimed Miss Sally Fair- thorn, when the narrative was finished. " And now, Gil- bert, the brush ? " The brush ? " " Who 's to have it, I mean. Did you never get one be- fore, as you don't seem to understand ? " " Yes, I understand," said he, in an indifferent tone ; " it may be had for the asking." " Then it 's mine ! " cried Sally, urging her heavy horse against him and making a clutch at his cap. But he leaned as suddenly away, and shot a length ahead, out of her reach. Miss Deane's horse, a light, spirited animal, kept pace with his. "Martha!" cried the disappointed damsel, " Martha 1 one of us must have it ; ask him, you ! " " No," answered Martha, with her clear blue eyes fixed on Gilbert's face, " I will not ask." THE STORY OF KLNNETT. 19 He returned her gaze, and his eyes seemed to say Will you take it, knowing what the acceptance implies?' She read the question correctly ; but of this he was not sure. Neither, if it were so, could he trust himself to interpret the answer. Sally had already resumed her place on his left, and he saw that the mock strife would be instantly renewed. With a movement so sudden as to appear almost ungracious, he snatched the brush from his cap and extended it to Martha Deane, without saying a word If she hesitated, it was at least no longer than would be required in order to understand the action. Gilbert might e ; ther so interpret it, or suspect that she had understood the condition in his mind, and meant to signify the rejec- tion thereof. The language of gestures is wonderfully rapid, and all that could be said by either, in this way, was over, and the brush in Martha Deane's hand, before Sally Fairthorn became aware of the transfer. " Well-done, Martha!" she exclaimed: "Don't let him have it again ! Do you know to whom he would have given it : an A. and a W., with the look of an X, so ! " Thereupon Sally pulled off her mittens and crossed her forefingers, an action which her companions understood . in combination with the mysterious initials to be the rude, primitive symbol of a squint. Gilbert looked annoyed, but before he could reply, Sally let go the rein in order to put on her mittens, and the blinded mare quickly dropping her head, the rein slipped instantly to the animal's ears. The latter perceived her advantage, and began snuffing along the edges of the road in a deliberate search for spring grass. In vain Sally called and kicked; the mare provokingly preserved her independence. Finally, a piteous appeal to Gilbert, who had pretended not to notice the dilemma, and was a hun- dred yards in advance, was Sally's only resource. The two baited and enjoyed her comical helplessness. W THE STORY 01- KENNETT. a That 's enough, Gilbert," said Martha Deane, presently, u go now and pick up the rein." He rode back, picked it up, and handed it to Sally with- out speaking. " Gilbert." she said, with a sudden demure change of tone, as they rode on to where Miss Deane was waiting, "come and take supper with us, at home. Martha ha? promised. You Ve hardly been to see us in a month." " You know how much I have to do, Sally," he answered k; It is n't only that, to-day being a Saturday ; but I Ve promised mother to be at home by dark, and fetch a quar- ter of tea from the store." " When you Ve once promised, I know, oxen could n't pull you the other way." " I don't often see your mother, Gilbert," said Martha Deane ; " she is well ? " " Thank you, Martha, too well, and yet not well enough." " What do you mean ? " " I mean," he answered, " that she does more than she has strength to do. If she had less she would be forced to undertake less ; if she had more, she would be equal to her undertaking." " I understand you now. But you should not allow her to go on in that way ; you should " What Miss Deane would have said must remain unwrit- ten. Gilbert's eyes were upon her, and held her own ; perhaps a little more color came into her face, but she did not show the slightest embarrassment. A keen observer might have supposed that either a broken or an imperfect relation existed between the two, which the gentleman was trying to restore or complete without the aid of words ; and that, furthermore, while the lady was the more skilful in the use of that silent language, neither rightly under- stood the other. By this time they were ascending the hill from Redley THE STORY OF KENNETT. f] Creek to Kennett .Square. Martha Deane had thus fat carried the brush carelessly in her right hand ; she now rolled it into a coil and thrust it into a large velvet reticule which hung from the pommel of her saddle. A few dull orange streaks in the overcast sky, behind them, denoted sunset, and a raw, gloomy twilight crept up from the east " You '11 not go with us ? " Sally asked again, as they reached the corner, and the loungers on the porch of the Unicom Tavern beyond, perceiving Gilbert, sprang from their seats to ask for news of the chase. " Sally, I cannot ! " he answered. " Good-night ! " Joe and Jake Fairthorn rushed up with a whoop, and before Gilbert could satisfy the curiosity of the tavern- idlers, the former sat behind Sally, on the old mare, with his face to her tail, while Jake, prevented by Miss Deane's riding-whip from attempting the same performance, capered behind the horses and kept up their spirits by flinging hand- fuls of sand. Gilbert found another group in the store " farmers ur tneir sons who had come in for a supply of groceries, or the weekly mail, and who sat in a sweltering atmosphere around the roaring stove. They, too, had heard of the chase, and he was obliged to give them as many details as possible while his quarter of tea was being weighed, after which he left them to supply the story from the narrative of Mr. Joel Ferris, who, a new-comer announced, had just alighted at the Unicorn, a little drunk, and in a very bad humor. ". Where 's Barton ? " Gilbert heard some one ask of Ferris, as he mounted. " In his skin ! " was the answer, " unless he 's got into that fellow Fortune's. They 're as thick as two pickpock- ets!" Gilbert rode down the hill, and allowed his horse to plod leisurely across the muddy level, regardless of the deepen- ing twilight 22 THE STORY OF KENNETT. He was powerfully moved by some suppressed emotion The muscles of his lips twitched convulsively, and there was a hot surge and swell somewhere in his head, as of tears about to overrun their secret reservoir. But they failed to surprise him, this time. As the first drops fell from his dark eyelashes, he loosed the rein and gave the word to his horse. Over the ridge, along the crest, between dusky thorn-hedges, he swept at full gallop, and so, slowly sinking towards the fair valley which began to twinkle with the lights of scattered farms to the eastward, he soon reached the last steep descent, and saw the gray gleam of his own barn below him. By this time his face was sternly set. He clinched his hands, and muttered to himself " It will almost kill me to ask, but I must know, and and she must tell." It was dark now. As he climbed again from the bottom of the hill towards the house, a figure on the summit was drawn indistinctly against the sky, unconscious that it was thus betrayed. But it vanished instantly, and then h* groaned God help me ! I cannot ask-" THE STORY OF KENNETT. 81 CHAPTER MART POTTER AND HER SON. WJTILE Gilbert was dismounting at the gate leading toto his barn-yard, he was suddenly accosted by a boyish voice : " Got back, have you ? " This was Sam, the " bound-boy," the son of a tenant on the old Carson place, who, in consideration of three months' schooling every winter, and a "freedom suit" at the age of seventeen, if he desired then to learn a trade, was duly made over by his father to Gilbert Potter. His position was something between that of a poor relation and a servant. He was one of the family, eating at the same table, sleeping, indeed, (for economy of house-work,) in the same bed with his master, and privileged to feel his full share of interest in domestic matters ; but on the other hand bound to obedience and rigid service. " Feed 's in the trough," said he, taking hold of the bridle. " I '11 fix him. Better go into th' house. Tea 's wanted." Feeling as sure that all the necessary evening's work was done as if he had performed it with his own hands, Gilbert silently followed the boy's familiar advice. The house, built like most other old farm-houses in that part of the county, of hornblende stone, stood near the bot- tom of a rounded knoll, overhanging the deep, winding valley. It was two stories in height, the gable looking to- wards the road, and showing, just under the broad double chimney, a limestone slab, upon which were rudely carved the initials of the builder and his wife, and the date 14 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " 1727." A low portico, overgrown with woodbine and trum pet- flower, ran along the front In the narrow flower-bed, under it, the crocuses and daffodils were beginning to thrust up their blunt, green points. A walk of flag-stones separated them from the vegetable garden, which was bounded at the bottom by a mill-race, carrying half the water of the creek to the saw and grist mill on the other side of the road. Although this road was the principal thoroughfare be- tween Kennett Square and Wilmington, the house was so screened from the observation of travellers, both by the barn, and by some huge, spreading apple-trees which oc- cupied the space between the garden and road, that its inmates seemed to live in absolute seclusion. Looking from the front door across a narrow green meadow, a wooded hill completely shut out all glimpse of the adjoin- ing farms ; while an angle of the valley, to the eastward, hid from sight the warm, fertile fields higher up the stream. The place seemed lonelier than ever in the gloomy March twilight; or was it some other influence which caused Gilbert to pause on the flagged walk, and stand there, motionless, looking down into the meadow until a woman's shadow crossing the panes, was thrown upon the square of lighted earth at his feet ? Then he turned and entered the kitchen. The cloth was spread and the table set. A kettle, hum- ming on a heap of fresh coals, and a squat little teapot of blue china, were waiting anxiously for the brown paper parcel which he placed upon the cloth. His mother was waiting also, in a high straight-backed rocking-chair, with her hands in her lap. " You 're tired waiting, mother, I suppose ? " he said, aa he hung his hat upon a nail over the heavy oak mantel- piece. "No, not tired, Gilbert, but it's hungry you'll be. It THE STORY OF KENNETT. U won't take long for the tea to draw. Everything else has been ready this half-hour." Gilbert threw himself upon the settle under the front window, and mechanically followed her with his eyes, as she carefully measured the precious herb, even stooping to pick up a leaf or two that had fallen from the spoon to the floor. The resemblance between mother and son was very striking. Mary Potter had the same square forehead and level eyebrows, but her hair was darker than Gilbert's, and her eyes more deeply set The fire of a lifelong pain smouldered in them, and the throes of some never- ending struggle had sharpened every line of cheek ana brow, and taught her lips the close, hard compression, which those of her son were also beginning to learn. She was about forty-five years of age, but there was even now a weariness in her motions, as if her prime of strength were already past She wore a short gown of brown flan- nel, with a plain linen stomacher, and a coarse apron, which she removed when the supper had been placed upon the table. A simple cap, with a narrow frill, covered her head. The entire work of the household devolved upon her hands alone. Gilbert would have cheerfully taken a ser- vant to assist her, but this she positively refused, seem- ing to court constant labor, especially during his absence from the house. Only when he was there would she take occasion to knit or sew. The kitchen was a marvel of neatness and order. The bread-trough and dresser-shelves were scoured almost to the whiteness of a napkin, and the rows of pewter-plates upon the latter flashed like silver sconces. To Gilbert's eyes, indeed, the effect was some- times painful. He would have been satisfied with less laborious order, a less eager and unwearied thrift. To be sure, all this was in furtherance of a mutual purpose ; but he mentally determined that when the purpose had been 26 TUE STORY OF KEN NEXT. fulfilled, he would insist upon an easier and more cheerftj arrangement. The stern aspect of life from which hif nature craved escape rnet him oftenest at home. Sam entered the kitchen barefooted, having left his shoes at the back door. The tea was drawn, and the three sat down to their supper of bacon, bread and butter, and apple-sauce. Gilbert and his mother ate and drank ia silence, but Sam's curiosity was too lively to be restrained. " I say, how did Roger go ? " he asked. Mary Potter looked up, as if expecting the question to be answered, and Gilbert said : " He took the lead, and kept it." " cracky ! " exclaimed the delighted Sam. " Then you think it 's a good bargain, Gilbert. Was it a long chase ? Was he well tried ? " " All right, mother. I could sell him for twenty dollars advance even to Joel Ferris," he answered. He then gave a sketch of the afternoon's adventures, to which his mother listened with a keen, steady interest. She compelled him to describe the stranger, Fortune, as minutely as possible, as if desirous of finding some form or event in her own memory to which he could be at- tached ; but without result. After supper Sam squatted upon a stool in the corner of the fireplace, and resumed his reading of " The Old English Baron," by the light of the burning back-log, pro- nouncing every word to himself in something between a whisper and a whistle. Gilbert took an account-book, a leaden inkstand, and a stumpy pen from a drawer under the window, and calculated silently and somewhat labori- ously. His mother produced a clocked stocking of blue wool, and proceeded to turn the heel. In half an hour's time, however, Sam's whispering ceased ? his head nodded violently, and the book fell upon the hearth. "I guess I 'h go to bed," he said ; and having thus con- THE STORY OF KENNETT. 27 acientiously announced his intention, he trotted up the steep back-stairs on his hands and feet In two minutes more, a creaking overhead announced that the act was accomplished. Gilbert filliped the ink out of his pen into the fire, laid it in his book, and turned away from the table. " Roger has bottom," he said at last, " and he 's as strong as a lion. He and Fox will make a good team, and the roads will be solid in three days, if it don't rain." " Why, you don't mean," she commenced. " Yes, mother. You were not for buying him, I know, and you were right, inasmuch as there is always some risk. But it will make a difference of two barrels a load, besides having a horse at home. If I plough both for corn and oats next week, and it will be all the better for corn, a; the field next to Carson's is heavy, I can begin hauling the week after, and we '11 have the interest by the first of April, without borrowing a penny." " That would be good, very good, indeed," said she, dropping her knitting, and hesitating a moment before she continued ; " only only, Gilbert, I did n't expect you would be going so soon." " The sooner I bejjin, mother, the sooner I shall finish." O ' ' u I know that, Gilbert I know that; but I'm always looking forward to the time when you won't be bound to go at all. Not that Sam and I can't manage awhile but if the money was paid once " " There 's less than six hundred now, altogether. It 's a good deal to scrape together in a year's time, but if it can be done I will do it Perhaps, then, you will let some help come into the house. I 'm as anxious as you can be, mother. I 'm not of a roving disposition, that you know ; yet it is n't pleasant to me to see you slave as you do and for that very reason, it 's a comfort when I 'm away, that you 've one less to work for." He spoke earnestly, turning his face full upon her. 28 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " We 've talked this over, often and often, but you nevei can mak~ me see it in your way," he then added, in a gentler tone. "Ay, Gilbert," she replied, somewhat bitterly, "I've had my thoughts. Maybe they were too fast ; it seems so. I meant, and mean, to make a good home for you, and I 'm happiest when I can do the most towards it. I want you to hold up your head and be beholden to no man. There are them in the neighborhood that were bound out as boys, and are now as good as the best." " But they are not," burst from his lips, as the thought on which he so gloomily brooded sprang to the surface and took him by surprise. He checked his words by a power- ful effort, and the blood forsook his face. Mary Potter placed her hand on her heart, and seemed to gasp for breath. Gilbert could not bear to look upon her face. He turned away, placed his elbow on the table, and leaned his head upon his hand. It never occurred to him that the. unfin- ished sentence might be otherwise completed. He knew that his thought was betrayed, and his heart was suddenly filled with a tumult of shame, pity, and fear. For a minute there was silence. Only the long pendu- lum, swinging openly along the farther wall, ticked at each end of its vibration. Then Mary Potter drew a deep, weary breath, and spoke. Her voice was hollow and strange, and each word came as by a separate muscular effort " What are they not ? What word was on your tongue, Gilbert?" He could not answer. He could only shake his hewi, and bring forth a cowardly, evasive word, " Nothing." " But there is something ! Oh, I knew it must come gome time!" she cried, rather to herself than to him. "Listen to me, Gilbert! Has any one dared to say to your face that you are basely born ? " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 29 He felt, now, that no further evasion was possible ; she had put into words the terrible question which he could not steel his own heart to ask. Perhaps it was better so, better a sharp, intense pain than a dull perpetual ache. So he answered honestly now, but still kept his head turned away, as if there might be a kindness in avoiding her gaze. " Not in so many words, mother," he said ; " but there are ways, and ways of saying a thing ; and the cruellest way is that which everybody understands, and I dare not But I have long known what it meant. It is ten years, mother, since I have mentioned the word 'father ' in your hearing." Mary Potter leaned forward, hid her face in her hands, and rocked to and fro, as if tortured with insupportable pain. She stifled her sobs, but the tears gushed forth between her fingers. " O my boy, my boy ! " she moaned. " Ten years .' and you believed it, all that time ! " He was silent. She leaned forward and grasped his arm. " Did you, do you believe it ? Speak, Gilbert ! " When he did speak, his voice was singularly low and gentle. " Never mind, mother ! " was all he could say. His head was still turned away from her, but she knew there were tears on his cheeks. " Gilbert it is a lie ! " she exclaimed, with startling vehemence. "A lie, A LIE! You are my lawful son, born in wedlock ! There is no stain upon your name, of noy giving, and I know there will be none of your own." He turned towards her, his eyes shining and his lipi parted in breathless joy and astonishment u Is it is it true ? " he whispered. ** True as there is a God in Heaven." "Then, mother, give me my name! Now I ask you, for the first time, who was my father ? * 80 THE STORY OF KENNETT. She wrung her hands and moaned. The sight of her son's eager, expectant face, touched with a light which she had never before seen upon it, seemed to give her another and a different pang. " That, too ! " She murmured to herself. " Gilbert," she then said, " have I always been a faithful mother to you? Have I been true and honest in word and deed ? Have I done my best to help you in all right ways, to make you comfortable, to spare you trouble ? Have I ever, I '11 not say acted, for nobody's judgment is per- fect, but tried to act otherwise than as I thought it might be for your good ? " "You have done all that you could say, and more, mother." " Then, my boy, is it too much for me to ask that you should believe my word, that you should let it stand for the truth, without my giving proofs and testimonies ? Foi, Gilbert, that I must ask of you, hard as it may seem. If you will only be content with the knowledge but then, you have felt the shame all this while ; it was my fault, mine, and I ought to ask your forgiveness " " Mother mother ! " he interrupted, " don't talk that way ! Yes I believe you, without testimony. You never said, or thought, an untruth; and your explanation will be enough not only for me, but for the whole neighbor- hood, if all witnesses are dead or gone away. If you knew of the shameful report, why did n't you deny it at once ? Why let it spread and be believed in ? " " Oh," she moaned again, " if my tongue was not tied iJ my tongue was not tied ! There was my fault, and what a punishment ! Never never was woman punished as I have been. Gilbert, whatever you do, bind yourself by no vow, except in the sight of men ! " " I do not understand you, mother," said he. "No, and I dare not make myself understood. Don't ask me anything more ! It 's hard to shut my mou^h and THE STORY OF KENNETT. 81 bear everything in silence, but it cuts my very heart in twain to speak and not tell ! " Her distress was so evident, that Gilbert, perplexed and bewildered as her words left him, felt that he dared not press her further. He could not doubt the truth of her first assertion ; but, alas ! it availed only for his own pri- vate consciousness, it took no stain from him, in the eyes of the world. Yet, now that the painful theme had been opened, not less painful, it seemed, since the suspected dishonor did not exist, he craved and decided to ask, enlightenment on one point. "Mother," he said, after a pause, "I do not want to speak about this thing again. I believe you, and my great- est comfort in believing is for your sake, not for mine. I see, too, that you are bound in some way which I do not understand, so that we cannot be cleared from the blame that is put upon us. I don't mind that so much, either for my own sake, and I will not ask for an explanation, since you say you dare not give it But tell me one thing, will it always be so ? Are you bound forever, and will I never learn anything more ? I can wait ; but, mother, you know that these things work in a man's mind, and there will come a time when the knowledge of the worst thing that could be will seem better than no knowledge at all." Her face brightened a little. "Thank you, Gilbert!" she said. " Yes ; there will come a day when you shall know all, when you and me shall have justice. I do not know how soon ; I cannot guess. In the Lord's good time. I have nigh out-suffered my fault, I think, and the reward cannot be far off. A few weeks, perhaps, yet, maybe, for oh, I am not allowed even to hope for it ! maybe a few years. It will all come to the light, after so long so long an eternity. If I had but known ! " " Come, we will say no more now. Surely I may wait a little while, when you have waited so long. I believe 82 THE STORY OF KENNETT. you, mother. Yes, I believe you; I am your lawful son." She rose, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. Nothing more was said. Gilbert raked the ashes over the smouldering embers on the hearth, lighted his mother's night-lamp, and after closing the chamber-door softly behind her, stole up-stain to his own bed. it was long past midnight before he slept. TEE STORY OF K.ENNETT. CHAPTER IV. FORTUNE ANP MISFORTUNE. ON the same evening, a scene of a very different charac- ter occurred, in which certain personages of this history were actors. In order to describe it, we must return to the company of sportsmen whom Gilbert Potter left at the Hamrner-and-Trowel Tavern, late in the afternoon. No sooner had he departed than the sneers of the young bucks, who felt themselves humiliated by his unexpected success, became loud and frequent. Mr. Alfred Barton, who seemed to care little for the general dissatisfaction, was finally reproached with having introduced such an unfit personage at a gentleman's hunt ; whereupon he turned im- patiently, and retorted : " There were no particular invitations sent out, as all of you know. Anybody that had a horse, and knew how to manage him, was welcome. Zounds ! if you fellows are afraid to take hedges, am I to blame for that ? A hunter 's a hunter, though he 's born on the wrong side of the mar- riage certificate." " That 's the talk, Squire ! " cried Fortune, giving his friend a hearty slap between the shoulders. " I 've seen riding in my day," he continued, " both down in Loudon and on the Eastern Shore men born with spurs on their heels, and I tell you this Potter could hold his own, even with the Lees and the Tollivers. We took the hedge to- gether, while you were making a round of I don't know how many miles on the road ; and I never saw a thing neater done. If you thought there was anything unfaii about him, why did n't you head him off? " I 04 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " Yes, damme," echoed Mr. Barton, bringing down his fist upon the bar, so that the glasses jumped, " why did n't you head him off?" Mr. Barton's face was suspiciously flushed, and he was more excited than the occasion justified. There was no answer to the question, except that which none of the young bucks dared to make. " Well, I 've had about enough of this," said Mr. Joel Ferris, turning on his heel ; " who 's for home ? " " Me ! " answered three or four, with more readiness thac grammar. Some of the steadier young farmers, who had come for an afternoon's recreation, caring little who was first in at the death, sat awhile and exchanged opinions about crops and cattle ; but Barton and Fortune kept to- gether, whispering much, and occasionally bursting into fits of uproarious laughter. The former was so captivated by his new friend, that before he knew it every guest was gone. The landlord had lighted two or three tallow can dies, and now approached with the question : " Will you have supper, gentlemen ? " " That depends on what you 've got," said Fortune. This was not language to which the host was accustomed. His guests were also his fellow-citizens : if they patronized him, he accommodated them, and the account was bal- anced. His meals were as good as anybody's, though he thought it that should n't, and people so very particular might stay away. But he was a mild, amiable man, and Fortune's keen eye and dazzling teeth had a powerful effect upon him. He answered civilly, in spite of an in- ward protest : " There 's ham and eggs, and frizzled beef." " Nothing could be better ! " Fortune exclaimed, jump- ing up. " Come 'Squire if I stay over Sunday with you, you must at least take supper at my expense." Mr. Barton tried to recollect whether he had invited his friend to spend Sunday with him. It must be so, of course , only, he could uot remember when he had spoken, or what THE STORY OF KENNFTT. 85 wrords ne had used. It would be very pleasant, he con- fessed, but for one thing ; and how was he to get ovei the difficulty ? However, here they were, at the table, Fortune heaping his plate like a bountiful host, and talking so delightfully about horses and hounds, and drinking-bouts, and all those wild experiences which have such a charm for bachelors of forty-five or fifty, that it was impossible -to determine in his mind what he should do. After the supper, they charged themselves with a few additional potations, to keep off the chill of the night air, mounted their horses, and took the New-Garden road. A good deal of confidential whispering had preceded their departure. u They 're off on a lark," the landlord remarked to him- self, as they rode away, " and it 's a shame, in men of their age." After riding a mile, they reached the cross-road on the left, which the hunters had followed, and Fortune, who was a little in advance, turned into it " After what I told you, 'Squire," said he, " you won't wonder that I know the country so well. Let us push on ; it 's not more than two miles. I would be very clear of showing you one of my nests, if you were not such a good fellow. But mum 's the word, you know." " Never fear," Barton answered, somewhat thickly ; " I 'm an old bird, Fortune." " That you are ! Men like you and me are not made of the same stuff as those young nincompoops ; we can follow trail without giving tongue at every jump." Highly flattered, Barton rode nearer, and gave his friend an affectionate punch in the side. Fortune answered with an arm around his waist and a tight hug, and so they rode onward through the darkness. O They had advanced for somewhat more than a mile on the cross-road, and found themselves in a hollow, with tall, 86 THE STORY OF KENNETT. dense woods on either side. Fortune drew rein and lis- tened. There was no wind going, and the utmost stillness prevailed in every direction. There was something awful in the gloom and solitude of the forest, and Barton, in spue of his anticipations, began to feel uncomfortable. " Good, so far ! " said Fortune, at last " Here we leave the road, and I must strike a light." u Won't it be seen ? " Barton anxiously inquired. " No : it 's a dark-lantern a most convenient thing. J would advise you to get one." With that, he fumbled in his holsters and produced a small object, together with a tinder-box, and swiftly and skilfully struck a light There was a little blue flash, as of sulphur, the snap of a spring, and the gleam disappeared. " Stay ! " he said, after satisfying himself that the lan- tern was in order. " I must know the time. Let me have your watch a minute." Barton hauled up the heavy article from the depths ot his fob, and handed it, with the bunch of jingling seals, to his friend. The latter thrust it into his waistcoat pocket, before opening the lantern, and then seemed to have for- gotten his intention, for he turned the light suddenly on Barton's face. . " Now," said he, in a sharp tone, " I '11 trouble you, 'Squire, for the fifty dollars young Ferris paid you before the start, and whatever other loose change you have about you." Barton was so utterly astounded that the stranger's words conveyed no meaning to his ears. He sat with fixed eyes, open mouth, and hanging jaws, and was con- scious only that the hair was slowly rising upon his head. There was a rustling in one of Fortune's holsters, fol- lowed by a mysterious double click. The next moment, the lantern illumined a long, bright pistol-barrel, which pointed towards the victim's breast, and caused him to feeJ a sharp, wasp-like sting on that side of his body. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 87 "Be quick, now! Hand over the money !" cried For- tune, thrusting the pistol an inch nearer. With trembling hands, Barton took a pocket-book and purse of mole-skin from his breast, and silently obeyed. The robber put up the pistol, took the ring of the lantern in his teeth, and rapidly examined the money. M A hundred and twenty-five ! " he said, with a grin, " not a bad haul." u Fortune ! " stammered Barton, in a piteous voice, " thia is a joke, is n't it ? " " yes, ha ! ha ! a very good joke, a stroke of for- tune for you ! Look here ! " He turned full upon his face the lantern which he held in his left hand, while with the right he snatched off his hat, and as it seemed to Barton's eyes the greater part of his head. But it was only his black hair and whis- kers, which vanished in the gloom, leaving a round, smooth face, and a head of close-cropped, red hair. With his wicked eyes and shining teeth, Barton imagined that he beheld a devil. " Did you ever hear of Sandy Flash ? " said the robber. The victim uttered a cry and gave himself up for lost This was the redoubtable highwayman the terror of the county who for two years had defied the law and all its ordinary and extraordinary agents, scouring the country al his will between the Schuylkill and the Susquehanna, and always striking his blows where no one r~~pected them to fall. This was he in all his dreadful presence, a match for any twenty men, so the story went, and he, Alfred Barton, was in his clutches ! A cold sweat broke out over his whole body ; his face grew deadly pale, and his teeth chattered. The highwayman looked at him and laughed. a Sorry I can't spend Sunday with you," said he ; "I must go on to- wards the Kising Sun. When you get another fox, send me word." Then he leaned over, nearer the trembling victim* 88 THE STORY OF KENNETT. and added in a low, significant tone, " If you stir from thii spot in less than one hour, you are a dead man." Then he rode on, whistling " Money Musk " as he went Once or twice he stopped, as if to listen, and Barton's heart ceased to bea* ; but by degrees the sound of his horse's hoofs died away. The silence that succeeded was full of terrors. Barton's horse became restive, and he would have dismounted and held him, but for the weakness in every joint which made him think that his body was falling asunder. Now and then a leaf rustled, or the scent of some animal, unperceived by his own nostrils, caused his horse to snort and stamp. The air was raw and sent a fearful chill through his blood. Moreover, how was he to measure the hour? His watch was gone; he might have guessed by the stars, but the sky was overcast. Fortune and Sandy Flash for there were two individuals in his bewildered brain would surely fulfil their threat if he stirred before the appointed time. What under heaven should he do ? Wait ; that was all ; and he waited until it seemed that morning must be near at hand. Then, turning his horse, he rode back very slowly towards the New-Garden road, and after many panics, to the Hammer-and-T rowel. There was still light in the bar-room ; should the door open, he would be seen. He put spurs to his horse and dashed past Once in motion, it seemed that he was pursued, and along Tuifkenamon went the race, until his horse, panting and exhausted, paused to drink at Redley Creek. They had gone to bed at the Unicorn ; he drew a long breath, and felt that the danger was over. In five minutes more he was at home. Putting his horse in the stable, he stole quietly to the house, pulled off his boots in the wood-shed, and entered by a back way through the kitchen. Here he warmed his chill frame before the hot ashes, and then very gently and cautiously felt his way to bed in the dark. TI1E STORY OF KENNETT. 8S The next morning, being Sunday, the whole household servants and all. slept an hour later than usual, as was then the country custom. Giles, the old soldier, was the first tc appear. He made the fire in the kitchen, put on the watei to boil, and then attended to the feeding of the cattle at the barn. When this was accomplished, he returned to the house and entered a bedroom adjoining the kitchen, on the ground-floor. Here slept " Old-man Barton," as he was generally called, Alfred's father, by name Abiah, and now eighty-five years of age. For many years he had been a paralytic and unable to walk, but the disease had not affected his business capacity. He was the hardest, shrewdest, and cunningest miser in the county. There was not a penny of the income and expenditure of the farm, for any year, which he could not account for, not a date of a deed, bond, or note of hand, which he had ever given or received, that was not indelibly burnt upon his memory. No one, not even his sons, knew precisely how much he was worth. The old lawyer in Chester, who had charge of much of his investments, was as shrewd as himself, and when he made his annual visit, the first week in April, the doors were not only closed, but everybody was banished from hearing distance so long as he remained. Giles assisted in washing and dressing the old man, then seated him in a rude arm-chair, resting on clumsy wooden castors, and poured out for him a small wine-glass full of raw brandy. Once or twice a year, usually after the pay- ment of delayed interest, Giles received a share of the brandy ; but he never learned to expect it Then a long hickory staff was placed in the old man's hand, and his arm-chair was rolled into the kitchen, to a certain station between the fire and the southern window, where he would be out of the way of his daughter Ann, yet could measure with his eye every bit of lard she put into the frying-pan, and every spoonful of molasses that entered into the com- position of her pies. 40 THE STORY OF KENNETT. She had already set the table for breakfast. The bacon and sliced potatoes were frying in separate pans, and Ann herself was lifting the lid of the tin coffee-pot, to see whether the beverage had " come to a boil," when the old man entered, or, strictly speaking, was entered. As his chair rolled into the light, the hideousness, not the grace and serenity of old age, was revealed. His white hair, thin and half-combed, straggled over the dark- red, purple-veined skin of his head ; his cheeks were flabby bags of bristly, wrinkled leather ; his mouth was a sunken, irregular slit, losing itself in the hanging folds at the cor- ners, and even the life, gathered into his small, restless gray eyes, was half quenched under the red and heavy edges of the lids. The third and fourth fingers of his hands were crooked upon the skinny palms, beyond any power to open them. When Ann a gaunt spinster of fifty-five had placed die coffee on the table, the old man looked around, and asked with a snarl : " Where 's Alfred ? " " Not up yet, but you need n't wait, father." " Wait ? " was all he said, yet she understood the tone, and wheeled him to the table. As soon as his plate was filled, he bent forward over it, rested his elbows on the cloth, and commenced feeding himself with hands that trembled so violently that he could with great difficulty bring the food to his mouth. But he resented all offers of assistance, which implied any weakness beyond that of the infirmity which it was impossible for him to conceal. His meals were weary tasks, but he shook and jerked through them, and would have gone away hungry rather than acknowledge the infirmity of his great age. Breakfast was nearly over before Alfred Barton made his appearance. No truant school-boy ever dreaded the master's eye as he dreaded to appear before his father that Sunday morning. His sleep had been broken and restless , the teeth of Sandy Flash had again grinned at him ir THE STORY OF KENNETT. 41 nightmare-dreams, and when he came to put on his clothes, the sense of emptiness in his breast-pocket and watch-fob impressed him like a violent physical pain. His loss was bad enough, but the inability to conceal it caused him even greater distress. Buttoning his coat c ?er the double void, and trying to assume his usual air, he went down to the kitchen and com- menced his breakfast. Whenever he looked up, he found his father's eyes fixed upon him, and before a word had been spoken, he felt that he had already betrayed some- thing, and that the truth would follow, sooner or later. A wicked wish crossed his mind, but was instantly suppressed, for fear lest that, also, should be discovered. After Ann had cleared the table, and retired to her own room in order to array herself in the black cloth gown which she had worn every Sunday for the past fifteen years, the old man said, or rather wheezed out the words, " Kennett, meetin' ? " " Not to-day," said his son, " I 've a sort of chill from yesterday." And he folded his arms and shivered very naturally. " Did Ferris pay you ? " the old man again asked. " Y-yes." " Where 's the money ? " There was the question, and it must be faced. Alfred Barton worked the farm " on shares," and was held to a strict account by his father, not only for half of all the grain and produce sold, but of all the horses and cattle raised, as well as those which were bought on speculation. On his share he managed thanks to the niggardly sys- tem enforced in the house not only to gratify his vulgar taste for display, but even to lay aside small sums from time to time. It was a convenient arrangement, but might be annulled any time when the old man should choose, and Alfred knew that a prompt division of the profits would b his surest guarantee of permanence. 42 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " 1 have not the money with me," he answered, desper- ately, after a pause, during which he felt his father's gaze travelling over him. from head to foot. u Why not ! You have n't- spent it ? " The latter ques- tion was a croaking shriek, which seemed to forebode, while it scarcely admitted, the possibility of such an enor- mity. " I spent only four shillings, father, but but but the money 's all gone ! " The crooked fingers clutched the hickory staff, as if eager to wield it ; the sunken gray eyes shot forth angry fire, and the broken figure uncurved and straightened itself with a wrathful curiosity. " Sandy Flash robbed me on the way home," said the son, and now that the truth was out, he seemed to pluck up a little courage. " What, what, what ! " chattered the old man, incredu- lously ; " no lies, boy, no lies ! " The son unbuttoned his coat, and showed his empty watch-fob. Then he gave an account of the robbery, not strictly correct in all its details, but near enough for his father to know, without discovering inaccuracies at a later day. The hickory-stick was shaken once or twice during the recital, but it did not fall upon the culprit though this correction (so the gossip of the neighborhood ran) had more than once been administered within the previous ten years. As Alfred Barton told his story, it was hardly a case for anger on the father's part, so he took his revenge in another way. " This comes o' your races and your expensive company, he growled, after a few incoherent sniffs and snarls ; " but I don't lose my half of the horse. No, no ! I 'm not paid rill the money 's been handed ovei. Twenty-five dollars, remember ! and soon, that I don't lose the use of it too fong. As for your money and the watch, I 've nothing to do with them. I 've got along without a watch for eighty- THE STORY OF KENNETT. 43 five years, and I never wore as smart a coat as that in my born days. Young men understood how to save, in mjj time." Secretly, however, the old man was flattered by his son's love of display, and enjoyed his swaggering air, although nothing would have induced him to confess the fact. His own father had come to Pennsylvania as a servant of one of the first settlers, and the reverence which he had felt, as a boy, for the members of the Quaker and farmer aristoc- racy of the neighborhood, had now developed into a late vanity to see his own family acknowledged as the equals of the descendants of the former. Alfred had long since dis- covered that when he happened to return home from the society of the Falconers, or the Caswells, or the Carsons, the old man was in an unusual good-humor. At such times, the son felt sure that he was put down for a large slice of the inheritance. After turning the stick over and over in his skinny hands, and pressing the top of it against his toothless gums, the old man again spoke. " See here, you 're old enough now to lead a steady life. You might ha' had a farm o' your own, like Elisha, if you 'd done as well. A very fair bit o' money he married, very fair, but I don't say you could n't do as well, or, maybe, better." " I 've been thinking of that, myself," the son replied. " Have you ? Why don't you step up to her then ? Ten thousand dollars are n't to be had every day, and you need n't expect to get it without the askin' ! Where molasses is dropped, you '11 always find more than one fly. Others than you have got their eyes on the girl." The son's eyes opened tolerably wide when the old man began to speak, but a spark of intelligence presently flashed into them, and an expression of cunning ran over his face. " Don't be anxious, daddy ! " said he, with assumed play- fulness; "she 's not a girl to take the first that offers 44 THE STORY OF KENNETT. She has a mind of her own, with her the more haste th less speed. I know what I 'm about ; I have my top eye open, and when there 's a good chance, you won'r fi <^ roc sneaking behind the wood-house." " Well, well ! " muttered the old man, " we '11 see, we 'L see ! A good family, too, not that I care for that My family 's as good as the next But if you let her slip, boy " and here he brought down the end of his stick with a significant whack, upon the floor. " This I '11 tell you," he added, without finishing the broken sentence, " that whether you 're a rich man or a beggar, depends on yourself. The more you have, the more you '11 get ; re- member that ! Bring me my brandy ! " Alfred Barton knew the exact value of his father's words. Having already neglected, or, at least, failed to succeed, in regard to two matches which his father had proposed, he understood the risk to his inheritance which was implied by a third failure. And yet, looking at the subject soberly, there was not the slightest prospect of success. Martha Deane was the girl in the old man's mind, and an instinct, stronger than his vanity, told him that she never would, or could, be his wife. But, in spite of that, it must be his business to create a contrary impression, and keep it alive as long as possible, perhaps until until We all know what was in his mind. Until the old man should die. TEE 8TOBV OF KENNETT. CHAPTER V. GUESTS AT FAIRTHORN'S. THE Fairthorn farm was immediately north of Ivennett Square. For the first mile towards Unionville, the rich rolling fields which any traveller may see, to this day, on either side of the road, belonged to it. The house stood on the right, in the hollow into which the road dips, on leaving the village. Originally a large cabin of hewn logs, it now rejoiced in a stately stone addition, overgrown with ivy up to the eaves, and a long porch in front, below which two mounds of box guarded the flight of stone steps leading down to the garden. The hill in the rear kept off the north wind, and this garden caught the earliest warmth of spring. Nowhere else in the neighborhood did the crocuses bloom so early, or the peas so soon appear above ground. The lack of order, the air of old neglect about the place, in nowise detracted from its warm, cosy charac- ter ; it was a pleasant nook, and the relatives and friends of the family (whose name was Legion) always liked to visit there. Several days had elapsed since the chase, and the event- ful evening which followed it. It was baking-day, and the plump arms of Sally Fairthorn were floury-white up to the elbows. She was leaning over the dough - trough, plunging her fists furiously into the spongy mass, when she heard a step on the porch. Although her gown was pinned up, leaving half of her short, striped petticoat visible, and a blue and white spotted handkerchief concealed her dark hair, Sally did not stop to think of that. She rushed into 46 THE STORY OF KENNETT, the front room, just as a gaunt female figure passed the window, at the sight of which she clapped her hands so that the flour flew in a little white cloud, and two or three strips of dough peeled off her arms and fell upon the floor. The front-door opened, and our old friend, Miss Betsy Lavender, walked into the room. Any person, between Kildeer Hill and Hockessin, who did not know Miss Betsy, must have been an utter stranger to the country, or an idiot. She had a marvellous clairvoy- ant faculty for the approach of either Joy or Grief, and always turned up just at the moment when she was most wanted. Profession had she none ; neither a permanent home, but for twenty years she had wandered hither and thither, in highly independent fashion, turning her hand to whatever seemed to require its cunning. A better house- keeper never might have lived, if she could have stuck to one spot ; an admirable cook, nurse, seamstress, and spin- ner, she refused alike the high wages of wealthy farmers and the hands of poor widowers. She had a little money of her own, but never refused payment from those who were able to give it, in order that she might now and then make a present of her services to poorer friends. Her speech was blunt and rough, her ways odd and eccentric ; her name was rarely mentioned without a laugh, but those who laughed at her esteemed her none the less. In those days of weekly posts and one newspaper, she was Politics, Art, Science, and Literature to many families. In person, Miss Betsy Lavender was peculiar rather than attractive. She was nearly, if not quite fifty years of age, rather tall, and a little stoop-shouldered. Her face, at first sight, suggested that of a horse, with its long, ridged nose, loose lips and short chin. Her eyes were dull gray, set near together, and much sharper in their operation than a stranger would suppose. Over a high, narrow forehead the wore thin bands of tan-colored hair, somewhat grizzled, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 4? and forming a coil at the back of her head, barely strong enough to hold the teeth of an enormous tortoise-shell comb. Yet her grotesqueness had nothing repellant; it was a genial caricature, at which no one could take offence. " The very person I wanted to see ! " cried Sally. * Father and mother are going up to Uncle John's this afternoon : Aunt Eliza has an old woman's quil ting-party, and they '11 stay all night, and however am I to manage Joe and Jake by myself? Martha's half promised to come, but not till after supper. It will all go right, since you are here ; come into mother's room and take off your things!" " Well," said Miss Betsy, with a snort, " that 's to be my business, eh ? I '11 have my hands full ; a pearter couple o' lads a'n't to be found this side o' Nottin'gam. They might ha' growed up wild on the Barrens, for all the man- ners they 've got" Sally knew that this criticism was true ; also that Miss Betsy's task was no sinecure, and she therefore thought it best to change the subject " There ! " said she, as Miss Betsy gave the thin rope of her back hair a fierce twist, and jammed her high comb inward and outward that the teeth might catch, " there ! now you '11 do ! Come into the kitchen and tell me the news, while I set my loaves to rise." " Loaves to rise," echoed Miss Betsy, seating herself on a tall, rush-bottomed chair near the window. She had an incorrigible habit of repeating the last three words of the person with whom she spoke, a habit which was some- times mimicked good-humoredly, even by her best friends. Many persons, however, were flattered by it, as it seemed to denote an earnest attention to what they were saying Between the two, there it was and there it would be, to the day of her death, Miss Lavender's " keel Mnark, u the farmers said of their sheep. 1 Keel, a local term for red chalk. 48 THE STORY OF KENNETT. M Well," she resumed, after taking breath, " no news it good news, these days. Down Whitely Creek way, to- wards Strickersville, there 's fever, they say ; Richard Rudd talks o' binldin' higher up the hill, you know it 's low and swampy about the old house, but Sarah, she says it '11 be a mortal long ways to the spring-house, and so betwixt and between them I dunno how it '11 turn out. Dear me ! I was up at Aunt Buffin'ton's t' other day ; she 'a lookin' poorly; her mother, I remember, went off in a decline, the same year the Tories burnt down their barn, and I 'm afeard she 's goin' the same way. But, yes ! I guess there 's one thing you '11 like to hear. Old-man Bar- ton is goin' to put up a new wagon-house, and Mark is to have the job." " Law ! " exclaimed Sally, " what 's that to me ? " But there was a decided smile on her face as she put another loaf into the pan, and, although her head was turned away, a pretty flush of color came up behind her ear, and be- trayed itself to Miss Lavender's quick eye. '" Nothin' much, I reckon," the latter answered, in the most matter-of-fact way, rt only I thought you might like to know it, Mark bein' a neighbor, like, and a right-down smart young fellow." " Well, I am glad of it," said Sally, with sudden candor, " he 's Martha's cousin." " Martha's cousin, and I should n't wonder if he 'd be something more to her, some day." " No, indeed ! What are you thinking of, Betsy ? " Sally turned around and faced her visitor, regardless that her soft brunette face showed a decided tinge of scarlet At this instant clattering feet were heard, and Joe and Jake rushed into the kitchen. They greeted their old friend with boisterous demonstrations of joy. u Now we '11 have dough-nuts," cried Joe. " No ; 'lasses-wax ! " said Jake. " Sally, where 's mother? Dad 's out at the wall, and Bonnie 's jumpm' and prancin like anything ! " THE STORY OF KENNE1 P. 4S * Go along ! " exclaimed Sally, with a slap which lost Its force in the air, as Jake jumped away. Then they all left the kitchen together, and escorted the mother to the gar- den-wall by the road, which served the purpose of a horse- block. Farmer Fairthorn a hale, ruddy, honest figure, in broad-brimmed hat, brown coat and knee-breeches al- ready sat upon the old mare, and the pillion behind his saddle awaited the coming burden. Mother Fairthorn, a cheery little woman, with dark eyes and round brunette face, like her daughter, wore the scoop bonnet and drab shawl of a Quakeress, as did many in the neighborhood who did not belong to the sect. Never were people better suited to each other than these two : they took the world as they found it, and whether the crops were poor or abundant, whether money came in or bad to be borrowed, whether the roof leaked, or a broken pale let the sheep into the garden, they were alike easy of heart, contented and cheerful. The mare, after various obstinate whirls, was finally brought near the wall ; the old woman took her seat on the pillion, and after a parting admonition to Sally : " Rake the coals and cover 'em up, before going to bed, whatever you do ! " they went off, deliberately, up the hill. " Miss Betsy," said Joe, with a very grave air, as they returned to the kitchen, " I want you to tell me one thing. whether it 's true or not. Sally says I 'm a monkey." " I 'm a monkey," repeated the unconscious Miss Laven- der, whereupon both boys burst into shrieks of laughter, and made their escape. " Much dough-nuts they '11 get from me," muttered the ruffled spinster, as she pinned up her sleeves and pro- ceeded to help Sally. The work went on rapidly, and by the middle of the afternoon, the kitchen wore its normal aspect of homely neatness. Then came the hour or two of quiet and rest, nowhere in the world so grateful as in a country farm-house, to its mistress and her daughters, when all the 4 50 THE STORl OF KENNETT. rough work of the day is over, and only the lighter task of preparing supper yet remains. Then, when the sewing or knitting has been produced, the little painted-pine work- stand placed near the window, and a pleasant neighbor drops in to enliven the softer occupation with gossip, the country wife or girl finds her life a very happy and cheer- ful possession. No dresses are worn with so much pleas- ure as those then made ; no books so enjoyed as those then read, a chapter or two at a time. Sally Fairthorn, we must confess, was not in the habit of reading much. Her education had been limited. She had ciphered as far as Compound Interest, read Murray's u Sequel," and Goldsmith's " Rome," and could write a fair letter, without misspelling many words ; but very few other girls in the neighborhood possessed greater accomplish- ments than these, and none of them felt, or even thought of, their deficiencies. There were no " missions " in those days ; it was fifty or sixty years before the formation of the " Kennett Psychological Society," and " Pamela," "Rasselas," and "Joseph Andrews," were lent and bor- rowed, as at present " Consuelo," Buckle, RuskinJ and " Enoch Arden." One single work of art had Sally created, and it now hung, stately in a frame of curled maple, in the chilly parlor. It was a sampler, containing the alphabet, both large and small, the names and dates of birth of both her parents, a harp and willow-tree, the twigs whereof were represented by parallel rows of " herring-bone " stitch, a sharp zigzag spray of rose-buds, and the following stanza, placed directly underneath the harp and willow : " By Babel's streams we Sat and Wept When Zion we thought on : For Grief thereof, we Hang our Harp The Willow Tree upon." Across the bottom of the sampler was embroidered the in- scription : " Done by Sarah Ann Fairthorn, May, 1792, in the 16th year of her age." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 51 While Sally went up-stairs to her room, to put her hair hi to order, and tie a finer apron over her cloth gown, Miss Betsy Lavender was made the victim of a most painful experience. Joe and Jake, who had been dodging around the house, half-coaxing and half- teasing the ancient maiden whom they both plagued and liked, had not been heard or seen for a while. Miss Betsy was knitting by the front window, waiting for Sally, when the door was hastily thrown open and Joe appeared, panting, scared, and with an expression of horror upon his face. u Oh, Miss Betsy ! " was his breathless exclamation, " Jake ! the cherry-tree ! " Dropping her work upon the floor, Miss Lavender hur- ried out of the house, with beating heart and trembling limbs, following Joe, who ran towards the field above the barn, where, near the fence, there stood a large and lofty cherry-tree. As she reached the fence she beheld Jake, lying motionless on his back, on the brown grass. " The Lord have mercy ! " she cried ; her knees gave way, and she sank upon the ground in an angular heap. When, with a desperate groan, she lifted her head and looked through the lower rails, Jake was not to be seen. With a swift, convulsive effort she rose to her feet, just in time to catch a glimpse of the two young scamps whirling over the farther fence into the wood below. She walked unsteadily back to the house. " It 's given me such a turn," she said to Sally, after describing the trick, " that I dunno when I '11 get over it" Sally gave her some whiskey and sugar, which soon brought a vivid red to the tip of her chin and the region of her cheek-bones, after which she professed that she felt very comfortable. But the boys, frightened at the effect of their thoughtless prank, did not make their appearance. Joe, seeing Miss Betsy fall, thought she was dead, and the two hid themselves in a bed of dead leaves, beside a fallen 53 THE STUhl OF KENNETT. log, not daring to venture home for supper. Sally said they should have none, and would have cleared the table ; but Miss Betsy, whose kind heart had long since relented, went forth and brought them to light, promising that she would not tell their father, provided they " would never do such a wicked thing again." Their behavior, for the rest of the evening, was irreproachable. Just as candles were being lighted, there was another step on the porch, and the door opened on Martha Deane. " I 'm so glad ! " cried Sally. " Never mind your pat- tens, Martha ; Joe shall carry them into the kitchen. Come, let me take off your cloak and hat." Martha's coming seemed to restore the fading daylight Not boisterous or impulsive, like Sally, her nature burned with a bright and steady flame, white and cold to some, golden and radiant to others. Her form was slender, and every motion expressed a calm, serene grace, which could only spring from some conscious strength of character. Her face was remarkably symmetrical, its oval outline ap- proaching the Greek ideal ; but the brow was rather high than low, and the light brown hair covered the fair temples evenly, without a ripple. Her eyes were purely blue, and a quick, soft spark was easily kindled in their depths ; the cheeks round and rosy, and the mouth clearly and deli- cately cut, with an unusual, yet wholly feminine firmness in the lines of the upper lip. This peculiarity, again, if slightly o.it of harmony with the pervading gentleness of her face, was balanced by the softness and sweetness of her dimpled chin, and gave to her face a rare union of strength and tenderness. It very rarely happens that decision and power of will in a young woman are not manifested by some characteristic rather masculine than feminine ; but Martha Doane knew the art of unwearied, soft assertion and resistance, and her beautiful lips could pronounce, when necessary, a final word. Joe and Jake came forward with a half-shy delight, to THE STORY OF KENNETT. 58 irelcome " Cousin Martha," as she was called in the Fair- thorn household, her mother and Sally's father having been " own " cousins. There was a cheerful fire on the hearth, and the three ladies gathered in front of it, witn the work-stand in the middle, while the boys took posses- sion of the corner-nooks. The latter claimed their share of the gossip ; they knew the family histories of the neigh- borhood much better than their school-books, and exhib- ited a precocious interest in this form of knowledge. The conversation, therefore, was somewhat guarded, and the knitting and sewing all the more assiduously performed, until, with great reluctance, and after repeated commands, Joe and Jake stole off to bed. The atmosphere of the room then became infinitely more free and confidential. Sally dropped her hands in her lap, and settled herself more comfortably in her chair, while Miss Lavender, with an unobserved side-glance at her, said : " Mark is to put up Barton's new wagon-house, I hear, Martha." " Yes," Martha answered ; " it is not much, but Mark, of course, is very proud of his first job. There is a better one in store, though he does not know of it." Sally pricked up her ears. " What is it ? " asked Mis> Betsy. " It is not to be mentioned, you will understand. I saw Alfred Barton to-day. He seems to take quite an interest in Mark, all at once, and he told me that the Hallowells are going to build a new barn this summer. He spoke to them of Mark, and thinks the work is almost sure." " Well, now ! " Miss Betsy exclaimed, " if he gets that after a year's journey-work, Mark is a made man. And I '11 speak to Richard Rudd the next time I see him. He thinks he 's beholden to me, since Sarah had the fever so bad. I don't like folks to think that, but there 's times when it appears to come handy." 54 THE STORY Ofr KfiNNETT. Sally arose, flushed and silent, and brought a plate of cakes and a basket of apples from the pantry. The work was now wholly laid aside, and the stand cleared to receive the refreshments. " Now pare your peels in one piece, girls," Miss Betsy advised, " and then whirl 'em to find the itials o' your sweethearts names." " You, too, Miss Betsy ! " cried Sally, " we must find ou*. the widower's name ! " " The widower's name," Miss Betsy gravely repeated, as she took a knife. With much mirth the parings were cut, slowly whirled diree times around the head, and then let fly over the left shoulder. Miss Betsy's was first examined and pronounced to be an A. " Who 's A ? " she asked. " Alfred ! " said Sally. " Now, Martha, here 's yours an S, no it 's a G ! " " The curl is the wrong way," said Martha, gravely, " it 'a a, figure 3 ; so, I have three of them, have I ? " " And mine," Sally continued, " is a W ! " " Yes, if you look at it upside down. The inside of the peel is uppermost : you must turn it, and then it will be an M." Sally snatched it up in affected vexation, and threw it into the fire. " Oh, I know a new way ! " she cried ; " did you ever try it, Martha with the key and the Bible ! " " Old as the hills, but awful sure," remarked Miss Lav- ender. " When it 's done serious, it 's never been known to fail." Sally took the house-key, and brought from the old wal- nut cabinet a plump octavo Bible, which she opened at the Song of Solomon, eighth chapter and sixth verse. The end of the key being carefully placed therein, the halves of the book were bound together with cords, so that it could be carried by the key-handle. Then Sally and Mar FHE STORY OF SENNETT. M tha, sitting face to face, placed each the end of the fore finger of the right hand under the half the ring of the key nearest to her. u Now, Martha," said Sally, " we '11 try your fortune first Say ' A/ and then repeat the verse : ' set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm ; for love is strong as dea'.h, jealousy is cruel as the grave : the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.' " Martha did as she was bidden, but the book hung mo- tionless. She was thereupon directed to say B, and repeat the verse ; and so on, letter by letter. The slender fingers trembled a little with the growing weight of the book, and, although Sally protested that she was holding as still u as she knew how," the trembling increased, and before the verse which followed G had been finished, the ring of the key slowly turned, and the volume fell to the floor. Martha picked it up with a quiet smile. " It is easy to see who was in your mind, Sally," she said. " Now let me tell your fortune : we will begin at L it will save time." " Save time," said Miss Lavender, rising. " Have it out betwixt and between you, girls : I 'm a-goin' to bed." The two girls soon followed her example. Hastily undressing themselves in the chilly room, they lay down side by side, to enjoy the blended warmth and rest, and the tender, delicious interchanges of confidence which pre- cede sleep. Though so different in- every fibre of their natures, they loved each other with a very true and tender affection. " Martha," said Sally, after an interval of silence, " did you think I made the Bible turn at G ? " u I think you thought it would turn, and therefore it did Gilbert Potter was in your mind, of course." " And not in yours, Martha ? " u If any man was seriously in my mind, Sally, do you think I would take the Bible and the door-key in order to find out his name ? " 66 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Salty was not adroit in speech : she felt that her question had not been answered, but was unable to see preciselj how the answer had been evaded. " I certainly was beginning to think that you liked Gil- bert," she said. " So I do. Anybody may know that who cares for the information." And Martha laughed cheerfully. "Would you say so to Gilbert himself?" Sally timidly suggested. " Certainly ; but why should he ask ? I like a great many young men." Oh, Martha ! " " Oh, Sally ! and so do you. But there 's this I will say : if I were to love a man, neither he nor any other liv- ing soul should know it, until he had told me with his own lips that his heart had chosen me." The strength of conviction in Martha's grave, gentle voice, struck Sally dumb. Her lips were sealed on the delicious secret she was longing, and yet afraid, to disclose. He had not spoken : she hoped he loved her, she was sure she loved him. Did she speak now, she thought, she would lower herself in Martha's eyes. With a helpless impulse, she threw one arm over the latter's neck, and kissed her cheek. She did not know that with the kiss she had left a tear. " Sally," said Martha, in a tender whisper, " I only spoke for myself. Some hearts must be silent, while it is the nature of others to speak out. You are not afraid of me : it will be womanly in you to tell me everything. Your cheek is hot : you are blushing. Don't blush, Sally dear, for I know it already." Sally answered with an impassioned demonstration of gratitude and affection. Then she spoke ; but we will not reveal the secrets of her virgin heart It is enough that, sooihed and comforted by Martha's wise counsel and sym- pathy, she sank into happy slumber at her side. TBE STORY OF KENNfiTT. SI CHAPTER VI. THE NEW GILBERT. THIS time the weather, which so often thwarts the far- mer's calculations, favored Gilbert Potter. In a week the two fields were ploughed, and what little farm-work remained to be done before the first of April, could be safely left to Sam. On the second Monday after the chase, therefore, he harnessed his four sturdy horses to the wagon, and set off before the first streak of dawn for Columbia, on the Susquehanna. Here he would take from twelve to sixteen barrels of flour (according to the state of the roads) and haul them, a two days' journey, to Newport, on the Christiana River. The freight of a dollar and a half a barrel, which he received, yielded him what in those days was considered a handsome profit for the service, and it was no unusual thing for farmers who were in possession of a suitable team, to engage in the business whenever they could spare the time from their own fields. Since the evening when she had spoken to him, for the first time in her life, of the dismal shadow which rested upon their names, Mary Potter felt that there was an inde- finable change in her relation to her son. He seemed sud- o denly drawn nearer to her, and yet, in some other sense which she could not clearly comprehend, thrust farther away. His manner, always kind and tender, assumed a shade of gentle respect, grateful in itself, yet disturbing, because new in her experience of him. His head was slightly lifted, and his lips, though firm as ever, less rigidly compressed. She could not tell how it was, but his voice 58 THE STORY OF KENNETT. had more authority in her ears. She had never before quite disentangled the man that he was from the child that he had been ; but now the separation, sharp, sudden, and final, was impressed upon her mind. Under all the loneli- ness which came upon her, when the musical bells of his team tinkled into silence beyond the hill, there lurked a strange sense of relief, as if her nature would more readily adjust itself during his absence. Instead of accepting the day with its duties, as a suffi- cient burden, she now deliberately reviewed the Past. It would give her pain, she knew ; but what pain could she ever feel again, comparable to that which she had so recently suffered ? Long she brooded over that bitter period before and immediately succeeding her son's birth, often declaring to herself how fatally she had erred, and as often shaking her head in hopeless renunciation of any present escape from the consequences of that error. She saw her position clearly, yet it seemed that she had so entangled herself in the meshes of a merciless Fate, that the only reparation she could claim, either for herself or her son, would be thrown away by forestalling after such endless, endless submission and suffering the Event which should set her free. Then she recalled and understood, as never before, Gilbert's childhood and boyhood. For his sake she had accepted menial service in families where he was looked upon and treated as an incumbrance. The child, it had been her comfort to think, was too young to know or feel this, but now, alas ! the remembrance of his shyness and sadness told her a different tale. So nine years had passed, and she was then forced to part with her boy. She had bound him to Farmer Fairthorn, whose good heart, and his wife's, she well knew, and now she worked for him, alone, putting by her savings every year, and stinting her- self to the utmost that she might be able to start him in life, if he should live to be his own master. Little by little. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 69 the blot upon her seemed to fade out or be forgotten, and she hoped oh, how she had hoped ! that he might be spared the knowledge of it. She watched him grow up, a boy of firm will, strong temper, yet great self-control ; and the easy Fairthorn rule, which would have spoiled a youth of livelier spirits, was, providentially, the atmosphere in which his nature grew more serene and patient He was steady, industri- ous, and faithful, and the Fairthorns loved him almost as their own son. When he reached the age of eighteen, he was allowed many important privileges : he hauled flour to Newport, having a share of the profits, and in other ways earned a sum which, with his mother's aid, enabled him to buy a team of his own, on coming of age. Two years more of this weary, lonely labor, and the one absorbing aim of Mary Potter's life, which she had im- pressed upon him ever since he was old enough to under- stand it, drew near fulfilment The farm upon which they now lived was sold, and Gilbert became the purchaser. There was still a debt of a thousand dollars upon the property, and she felt that until it was paid, they possessed no secure home. During the year which had elapsed since the purchase, Gilbert, by unwearied labor, had laid up about four hundred dollars, and another year, he had said, if he should prosper in his plans, would see them free at last ! Then, let the world say what it chose ! They had fought their way from shame and poverty to honest independence, and the respect which follows success would at least be theirs. This was always the consoling thought to which Mary Potter returned, from the unallayed trouble of her mind. Day by day, Gilbert's new figure became more familiar, and she was conscious that her own manner towards him must change with it The subject of his birth, however, and the new difficulties with which it beset her, would not be thrust aside. For years she had almost ceased to thin> 60 THE STORY OF KENNETT. of the possible release, of which she had spoken : now ft returned and filled her with a strange, restless impatience. Gilbert, also, had ample time to review his own position, during the fortnight's absence. After passing the hills and emerging upon the long, fertile swells of Lancaster, his experienced leaders but rarely needed the guidance of his hand or voice. Often, sunk in revery, the familiar land- marks of the journey went by unheeded ; often he lay awake in the crowded bedroom of a tavern, striving to clear a path for his feet a little way into the future. Only men of the profoundest culture make a deliberate study of their own natures, but those less gifted often act with an equal or even superior wisdom, because their qualities operate spontaneously, unwatched by an introverted eye. Such men may be dimly conscious of certain inconsisten- cies, or unsolved puzzles, in themselves, but instead of sit- ting down to unravel them, they seek the easiest way to pass by and leave them untouched. For them the material aspects of life are of the highest importance, and a true instinct shows them that beyond the merest superficial ac- quaintance with their own natures lie deep and disturbing questions, with which they are not fitted to grapple. There comes a time, however, to every young man, even the most uncultivated, when he touches one of the primal, eternal forces of life, and is conscious of other needs and another destiny. This time had come to Gilbert Potter, forcing him to look upon the circumstances of his life from a loftier point of view. He had struggled, passionately but at random, for light, but, fortunately, every earnest struggle is towards the light, and it now began to dawn upon him. He first became aware of one enigma, the consideration of which was not so easy to lay aside. His mother had not been deceived : there was a change in the man since that evening. Often and often, in gloomy broodings ovei his supposed disgrace, he had fiercely asserted to himself THE STORY OF K.ENNETT. 61 that he was free from stain, and the unrespect in which he stood was an injustice to be bravely defied. The brand which he wore, and which he fancied was seen by every eye he met, existed in his own fancy ; his brow was as pure, his right to esteem and honor equal, to that of any other man. But it was impossible to act upon this reason- ing ; still when the test came he would shrink and feel the pain, instead of trampling it under his feet Now that the brand was removed, the strength which he had so desperately craved, was suddenly his. So far as the world was concerned, nothing was altered ; no one O ' knew of the revelation which his mother had made to him ; he was still the child of her shame, but this knowledge was no longer a torture. Now he had a right to respect, not asserted only to his own heart, but which every man would acknowledge, were it made known. He was no longer a solitary individual, protesting against prejudice and custom. Though still feeling that the protest was just, and that his new courage implied some weakness, he could not conceal from himself the knowledge that this very weakness was the practical fountain of his strength. He was a secret and unknown unit of the great majority. There was another, more intimate subject which the new knowledge touched very nearly ; and here, also, hope dawned upon a sense akin to despair. With all the force of his nature, Gilbert Potter loved Martha Deane. He had known her since he was a boy at Fairthorn's; her face had always been the brightest in his memory ; but it was only since the purchase of the farm that his matured manhood had fully recognized its answering womanhood in her. He was slow to acknowledge the truth, even to his own heart, and when it could no longer be denied, he locked it up and sealed it with seven seals, determined never to betray it, to her or any one. Then arose a wild hope, that respect might come with the independence for which he was laboring, and perhaps he might dare to draw 62 THE STORY OF KENNETT. nearer, near enough to guess if there were any answet in her heart It was a frail support, but he clung to it aa with his life, for there was none other. Now, although his uncertainty was as great as ever, his approach could not humiliate her. His love brought no shadow of shame ; it was proudly white and clean. Ah ! he had forgotten that she did not know, that his lips were sealed until his mother's should be opened to the world. The curse was not to be shaken off so easily. By the time he had twice traversed the long, weary road between Columbia and Newport, Gilbert reached a des- perate solution of this difficulty. The end of his medita- tions was : " I will see if there be love in woman as in man! love that takes no note of birth or station, but, once having found its mate, is faithful from first to last." In love, an honest and faithful heart touches the loftiest ideal. Gilbert knew that, were the case reversed, no pos- sible test could shake his steadfast affection, and how else could he measure the quality of hers ? He said to him- self: "Perhaps it is cruel, but I cannot spare her the trial." He was prouder than he knew, but we must remember all that he endured. It was a dry, windy March month, that year, and he made four good trips before the first of April. Returning home from Newport, by way of Wilmington, with seventy- five dollars clear profit in his pocket, his prospects seemed very cheerful. Could he accomplish two more months of hauling during the year, and the crops should be fair, the money from these sources, and the sale of his wagon and one span, would be something more than enough to dis- charge the remaining debt. He knew, moreover, how the farm could be more advantageously worked, having used his eyes to good purpose in passing through the rich, abun- dant fields of Lancaster. The land once his own, which, like his mother, he could not yet feel, his future, in a material sense, was assured. THE STORY OF KESNETT. 63 Before reaching .he Buck Tavern, he overtook a woman plodding slowly along the road. Her rusty beaver hat, tied down over her ears, and her faded gown, were in sin- gular contrast to the shining new scarlet shawl upon her shoulders. As she stopped and turned, at the sound of his tinkling bells, she showed a hard red face, not devoid of a certain coarse beauty, and he recognized Deb. Smith, a lawless, irregular creature, well known about Kennett. " Good-day, Deborah ! " said he ; " if you are going my way, I can give you a lift." " He calls me ' Deborah,' " she muttered to herself; then aloud " Ay, and thank ye, Mr. Gilbert." Seizing the tail of the near horse with one hand, she sprang upon the wagon-tongue, and the next moment sat upon the board at his side. Then, rummaging in a deep pocket, she produced, one after the other, a short black pipe, an eel-skin tobacco-pouch, flint, tinder, and a clumsy knife. With a dexterity which could only have come from long habit, she prepared and kindled the weed, and was presently puffing forth rank streams, with an air of the deepest satisfaction. Which way ? " asked Gilbert " Your 'n, as far as you go, always providin' you takes me." " Of course, Deborah, you 're welcome. I have no load, you see." " Mighty clever in you, Mr. Gilbert ; but you always was one o' the clever ones. Them as thinks themselves better born " " Come, Deborah, none of that ! " he exclaimed. "Ax your pardon," she said, and smoked her pipe in silence. When she had finished and knocked the ashes out against the front panel of the wagon, she spoke again, in a hard, bitter voice, U 'T is n't much difference what / am. I was raised on hard knocks, and now I must git my livin' by 'em. But I 64 THE STORY OF KENNETT. axes no 'un 's help, I 'm that proud, anyways. 1 go 013 own road, and a straighter one, too, damme, than I gil credit for, but I let other people go their 'n. You might have wuss company than me, though /say it." These words hinted at an inward experience in some respects so surprisingly like his own, that Gilbert was startled. He knew the reputation of the woman, though he would have found it difficult to tell whereupon it was based. Everybody said she was bad, and nobody knew particularly why. She lived alone, in a log-cabin in the woods ; did washing and house-cleaning ; worked in the harvest-fields ; smoked, and took her gill of whiskey with the best of them, but other vices, though inferred, were not proven. Involuntarily, he contrasted her position, in this respect, with his own. The world, he had recently learned, was wrong in his case ; might it not also be doing her injustice ? Her pride, in its coarse way, was his also, and his life, perhaps, had only unfolded into honorable success through a mother's ever-watchful care and never- wearied toil. " Deborah," he said, after a pause, " no man or woman who makes an honest living by hard work, is bad company for me. I am trying to do the same thing that you are, to be independent of others. It 's not an easy thing for inybody, starting from nothing, but I can guess that i< Must be much harder for you than for me." " Yes, you 're a man ! " she cried. " Would to God I 'd been one, too ! A man can do everything that 1 do, and it's all right and proper. Why did the Lord give me strength ? Look at that ! " She bared her right arm hard, knitted muscle from wrist to shoulder and clenched her fist. " What 's that for ? not for a woman, I say I could take two of 'em by the necks and pitch 'em over yon fence. I 've felled an Irishman like an ox when he called me names. The anger 's in me, and the boldness and the roughness, and the cursin' ; I did n't put 'em there THE STORY OF KENNETT. 65 and I can't git 'em out now, if I tried ever so much. Why did they snatch the sewin' from me when I wanted to learn women's work, and send me out to yoke th' oxen ? I do believe I was a gal onc't, a six-month or so, but it 'a over long ago. I 've been a man ever since ! " She took a bottle out of her pocket, and offered it to Gilbert. When he refused, she simply said : u You 're right ! " set it to her mouth, and drank long and deeply. There was a wild, painful gleam of truth in her wordsj which touched his sympathy. How should he dare to judge this unfortunate creature, not knowing what per- verse freak of nature, and untoward circumstances of life had combined to make her what she was? His manner towards her was kind and serious, and by degrees this covert respect awoke in her a desire to deserve it She spoke calmly and soberly, exhibiting a wonderful knowl- edge as they rode onwards, not only of farming, but of animals, trees, and plants. The team, knowing that home and rest were near, marched cheerily up and down the hills along the border, and before sunset, emerging from the woods, they over- looked the little valley, the mill, and the nestling farm- house. An Indian war-whoop rang across the meadow, and Gilbert recognized Sam's welcome therein. "Now, Deborah," said he, "you shall stop and have some supper, before you go any farther." " I 'm obliged, all the same," said she, " but I must push on. I 've to go beyond the Square, and could n't wait But tell your mother if she wants a man's arm in house- cleanin' time to let me know. And, Mr. Gilbert, let me say one thing : give me your hand." The horses had stopped to drink at the creek. He gave hei his right hand. She held it in hers a moment, gazing intently on the palm. Then she bent her head and blew upon it gently, three times. 86 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " Never mind : it 's my fancy," she said. " You 're for trial and good-luck, but the trials come first, all cf a heap, and the good luck afterwards. You 've got a friehd in Deb. Smith, if you ever need one. Good-bye to ye ! " With these words she sprang from the wagon, and trudged off silently up the hill. The horses turned of themselves into the lane leading to the barn, and Gilben assisted Sam in unharnessing and feeding them before entering the house. By the time he was ready to greet his mother, and enjoy, without further care, his first evening at home, he knew everything that had occurred on the fkrnn during his absence. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 87 CHAPTER VII. OLD KENNETT MEETING. OK the Sunday succeeding his return, Gilbert Potter proposed to his mother that they should attend the Friends' Meeting at Old Kennett. The Quaker element, we have already stated, largely predominated in this part of the county ; and even the many families who were not actually members of the sect were strongly colorod with its peculiar characteristics. Though not generally using " the plain speech " among themselves, they invariably did so towards Quakers, varied but little from the latter in dress and habits, and, with very few exceptions, regularly attended their worship. In fact, no other religious attendance was possible, without a Sab- bath journey too long for the well-used farm-horses. To this class belonged Gilbert and his mother, the Fairthorns, and even the Bartons. Farmer Fairthorn had a birth- right, it is true, until his marriage, which having been a stolen match, and not performed according to " Friends' ceremony," occasioned his excommunication. He might have been restored to the rights of membership by admit- ting his sorrow for the offence, but this he stoutly refused to do. The predicament was not an unusual one in the neighborhood ; but a few, among whom was Dr. Deane, Martha's father, submitted to the required humiliation. As this did not take place, however, until after her birth, Mar- tha was still without the pale, and preferred to remain so, for two reasons : first, that a scoop bonnet was monstroui m a young woman's head ; and second, that she was pas- 68 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Bionately fond of music, and saw no harm in a dance, This determination of hers was, as her father expressed himself, a " great cross " to him ; but she had a habit of paralyzing his argument by turning against him the testi- mony of the Friends in regard to forms and ceremonies, and their reliance on the guidance of the Spirit. Herein Martha was strictly logical, and though she, and others who belonged to the same class, were sometimes characterized, by a zealous Quaker, in moments of bitter- ness, as being "the, world's people," they were generally regarded, not only with tolerance, but in a spirit of frater- nity. The high seats in the gallery were not for them, but they were free to any other part of the meeting-house dur- ing life, and to a grave in the grassy and briery enclosure adjoining, when dead. The necessity of belonging to some organized church was recognized but faintly, if at all ; pro- vided their lives were honorable, they were considered very fair Christians. Mary Potter but rarely attended meeting, not from any lack of the need of worship, but because she shrank with painful timidity from appearing in the presence of the as- sembled neighborhood. She was, nevertheless, grateful for Gilbert's success, and her heart inclined to thanksgiving ; besides, he desired that they should go, and she was not able to offer any valid objection. So, after breakfast, the two best horses of the team were very carefully groomed, saddled, and Sam having been sent off on a visit to his father, with the house-key in his pocket the mother and son took the road up the creek. Both were plainly, yet very respectably, dressed, in gar- ments of the same home-made cloth, of a deep, dark brown color, but Mary Potter wore under her cloak the new crape shawl which Gilbert had brought to her from Wilmington, and his shirt of fine linen displayed a modest ruffle in front The resemblance in their faces was even more strongly marked, in the common expression of calm, grave repose THE STORY OF KENNETT. 19 which sprang from the nature of their journey. A sirangef meeting them that morning, would have seen that they were persons of unusual force of character, and bound to each other by an unusual tie. Up the lovely valley, or rather glen, watered by the east- ern branch of Redley Creek, they rode to the main high- way. It was an early spring, and the low-lying fields were already green with the young grass ; the weeping- willows in front of the farm-houses seemed to spout up and fall like broad enormous geysers as the wind swayed them, and daffodils bloomed in all the warmer gardens. The dark foliage of the cedars skirting the road counteracted that indefinable gloom which the landscapes of early spring, in their grayness and incompleteness, so often inspire, and mocked the ripened summer in the close shadows which they threw. It was a pleasant ride, especially after mother and son had reached the main road, and other horsemen and horsewomen issued from the gates of farms on either side, taking their way to the meeting-house. Only two or three families could boast vehicles, heavy, cumbrous " chairs," as they were called, with a convex canopy resting on four stout pillars, and the bulging body swinging from side to side on huge springs of wood and leather. No healthy man or woman, however, unless he or she were very old, travelled otherwise than on horseback. Now and then exchanging grave but kindly nods with their acquaintances, they rode slowly along the level up- land, past the Anvil Tavern, through Logtown, a cluster of primitive cabins at the junction of the Wilmington Road, and reached the meeting-house in good season. Gil bert assisted hh mother to alight at the stone platform built for that purpose near the women's end of the build- ing, and then fastened the horses in the long, open shed in the rear. Then, as was the custom, he entered by the men's door, and quietly took a seat in the silent assembly. The stiff, unpainted benches were filled with the congre- 70 THE STORY OF KENNETT. gation, young and old, wearing their hats, and with a stolid, drowsy look upon their faces. Over a high wooden parti ron the old women in the gallery, but not the young women on the floor of the house, could be seen. Two stoves, with interminable lengths of pipe, suspended by wires from the ceiling, created a stifling temperature. Every slight sound or motion, the moving of a foot, the drawing forth of a pocket-handkerchief^ the lifting or lowering of a head, seemed to disturb the quiet as with a shock, and drew many of the younger eyes upon it ; while in front, like the guardian statues of an Egyptian temple, sat the older members, with their hands upon their knees or clasped across their laps. Their faces were grave and severe. After nearly an hour of this suspended animation, an old Friend rose, removed his broad-brimmed hat, and placing his hands upon the rail before him, began slowly swaying to and fro, while he spoke. As he rose into the chant pe- culiar to the sect, intoning alike his quotations from the Psalms and his utterances of plain, practical advice, an ex- pression of quiet but almost luxurious satisfaction stole over the faces of his aged brethren. With half-closed eyes and motionless bodies, they drank in the sound like a rich draught, with a sense of exquisite refreshment A close connection of ideas, a logical derivation of argument from text, would have aroused their suspicions that the speaker depended rather upon his own active, conscious intellect, than upon the moving of the Spirit ; but this aimless wan- dering of a half-awake soul through the cadences of 8 Ian guage which was neither song nor speech, was, to ^heif minds, the evidence of genuine inspiration. When the old man sat down, a woman arose and chanted forth the suggestions which had come to her in the silence, in a voice of wonderful sweetness and strength. Here Music seemed to revenge herself for the slight done to her by the sect. The ears of the hearers were so charmed by the purity of tone, and the delicate, rhythmical cadence* THE STORY OF KENNETT. 71 of the sentences, that much of the wise lessons repeated from week to week failed to reach their consciousness. After another interval of silence, the two oldest men reached their hands to each other, a sign which the younger members had anxiously awaited. The spell snap- ped in an instant ; all arose and moved into the open air, where all things at first appeared to wear the same aspect of solemnity. The poplar-trees, the stone wall, the bushes in the corners of the fence, looked grave and respectful for a few minutes. Neighbors said, " How does thee do?" to each other, in subdued voices, and there was a conscien- tious shaking of hands all around before they dared to in- dulge in much conversation. Gradually, however, all returned to the out-door world and its interests. The fences became so many posts and rails once more, the bushes so many elders and black- berries to be cut away, and the half-green fields so much sod for corn-ground. Opinions in regard to the weather and the progress of spring labor were freely interchanged, and the few unimportant items of social news, which had collected in seven days, were gravely distributed. This was at the men's end of the meeting-house ; on their side, the women were similarly occupied, but we can only con- jecture the subjects of their conversation. The young men as is generally the case in religious sects of a rigid and clannish character were by no means handsome. Their faces all bore the stamp of repression, in some form or other, and as they talked their eyes wandered with an expression of melancholy longing and timidity towards the sweet, maidenly faces, whose bloom, and pure, gentle beauty not even their hideous bonnets could obscure. One by one the elder men came up to the stone plat- form with the stable old horses which their wives were to ride home ; the huge chair, in which sat a privileged couple, creaked and swayed from side to side, as it rolled with ponderous dignity from the yard ; and now, while the girlf 7t THE 8TOBY OF KEKKETT. were waiting their turn, the grave young men plucked up courage, wandered nearer, greeted, exchanged words, and so were helped into an atmosphere of youth. Gilbert, approaching with them, was first recognized by his old friend, Sally Fairthorn, whose voice of salutatio* was so loud and cheery, as to cause two or thiee sedate old " women-friends" to turn their heads in grave astonish- ment. Mother Fairthorn, with her bright, round face, followed, and then serene and strong in her gentle, symmetrical loveliness Martha Deane. Gilbert's hand throbbed, as he held hers a moment, gazing into the sweet blue of her eyes ; yet, passionately as he felt that he loved her in that moment, perfect as was the delight of her pres- ence, a better joy came to his heart when she turned away to speak with his mother. Mark Deane a young giant with curly yellow locks, and a broad, laughing mouth had just placed a hand upon his shoulder, and he could not watch the bearing of the two women to each other ; but all his soul listened to their voices, and he heard in Martha Deane's the kindly courtesy and respect which he did not see. Mother Fairthorn and Sally so cordially insisted that Mary Potter and her son should ride home with them to dinner, that no denial was possible. When the horses were brought up to the block the yard was nearly empty, and the returning procession was already winding up the hill towards Logtown. " Come, Mary," said Mother Fairthorn, " you and I will ride together, and you shall tell me all about your ducks and turkeys. The young folks can get along without us, I guess." Martha Deane had ridden to meeting in company with tier cousin Mark and Sally, but the order of the homeward ride was fated to be different. Joe and Jake, bestriding s single horse, like two of the Haymon's-children, were growing ir patient, so they took the responsibility of d&sV THE STORY OF KENNETT. 78 tog up to Mark and Sally, who were waiting in the road, and announcing, " Cousin Martha says we 're to go on ; she 11 ride with Gilbert." Both well knew the pranks of the boys, but perhaps they found the message well-invented if not true ; foi they obeyed with secret alacrity, although Sally made a becom- ing show of reluctance. Before they reached the bottom of the hollow, Joe and Jake, seeing two school-mates in advance, similarly mounted, dashed off in a canter, to over- take them, and the two were left alone. Gilbert and Martha naturally followed, since not more than two could conveniently ride abreast But their move- ments were so quiet and deliberate, and the accident which threw them together was accepted so simply and calmly that no one could guess what warmth of longing, of rever- ential tenderness, beat in every muffled throb of one of the two hearts. Martha was an admirable horsewoman, and her slender, pliant figure never showed to greater advantage than in the saddle. Her broad beaver hat was tied down over the ears, throwing a cool gray shadow across her clear, joyous eyes and fresh cheeks. A pleasanter face never touched a young man's fancy, and every time it turned towards Gilbert it brightened away the distress of love. He caught, unconsciously, the serenity of her mood, and foretasted the peace which her being would bring to him if it were ever intrusted to his hands. " Did you do well by your hauling, Gilbert," she asked, 44 and are you now home for the summer ? " "Until after corn-planting," he answered. "Then I must tike two or three weeks, as the season turns out I am not able to give up my team yet" M But you soon will be, I hope. It must be very lonely for your mother to be on the farm without you." These words touched him gratefully, and led him to 74 THE STORY OF KENNETT. candid openness of speech which he would not otherwise have ventured, not from any inherent lack of candor but from a reluctance to speak of himself. "That's it, Martha," he said. "It is her work that 1 have the farm at all, and I only go away the oftener now, that I may the sooner stay with her altogether. The thought of her makes each trip lonelier than the last" u I like to hear you say that, Gilbert. And it must be a comfort to you, withal, to know that you are working as much for your mother's sake as your own. I think I should feel so, at least, in your place. I feel my own moth- er's loss more now than when she died, for I was then so young that I can only just remember her face." " But you have a father ! " he exclaimed, and the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he became aware of their significance, uttered by his lips. He had not meant so much, only that she, like him, still enjoyed one parent's care. The blood came into his face ; she saw and understood the sign, and broke a silence which would soon have become painful. "Yes," she said, "and I am very grateful that he is spared ; but we seem to belong most to our mothers." " That is the truth," he said firmly, lifting his head with the impulse of his recovered pride, and meeting IK r eyes without flinching. " I belong altogether to mine. She has made me a man and set me upon my feet. From this time forward, my place is to stand between her and the world ! " Martha Deane's blood throbbed an answer to this asser- tion of himself. A sympathetic pride beamed in her eyes ; she slightl) bent her head, in answer, without speaking, and Gilbert felt that he was understood and valued. He had drawn a step nearer to the trial which he had resolved to make, and would now venture no further. There was a glimmering spark of courage in his heart, He was surprised, in recalling the conversation afterwards, to find how much of his plans he had communicated to her THE STORY OF KENNETT. 74 during the ride, encouraged by the kindly in-erest she manifested, and the sensible comments she uttered. Joe and Jake, losing their mates at a cross-road, and finding Sally and Mark Deane not very lively company for them, rode back and disturbed these confidences, but not until they had drawn the two into a relation of acknowledged mutual interest. Martha Deane had always, as she confessed to Sally, liked Gilbert Potter ; she liked every young man of charac- ter and energy ; but now she began to suspect that there was a rarer worth in his nature than she had guessed. From that day he was more frequently the guest of her thoughts than ever before. Instinct, in him, had performed the same service which men of greater experience of the world would have reached through keen perception and careful tact, in confiding to her his position, his labors and hopes, material as was the theme and seemingly un- suited to the occasion, he had in reality appreciated the serious, reflective nature underlying her girlish grace and gayety. What other young man of her acquaintance, she asked herself, would have done the same thing ? When they reached Kennett Square, Mother Fairthorn urged Martha to accompany them, and Sally impetuously seconded the invitation. Dr. Deane's horse was at his door, however, and his daughter, with her eyes on Gilbert, as if saying " for my father's sake," steadfastly declined. Mark, however, took her place, but there never had been, or could be, too many guests at the Fairthorn table. When they reached the garden-wall, Sally sprang from her horse with such haste that her skirt caught on the pommel and left her hanging, being made of stuff too stout to tear. It was well that Gilbert was near, on the same side, and disengaged her in an instant; but her troubles did not end here. As she bustled in and out of the kitchen, preparing the dinner-table in the long sitting-room, the books and door-handles seemed to have an unaccountable 76 THE STORY OF KENNETT. habit of thrusting themselves in her way, and she wai ready to cry at each glance of Mark's laughing eyes. She had never heard the German proverb, " who loves, teases," and was too inexperienced, as yet, to have discovered the feet for herself. Presently they all sat down to dinner, and after the first solemn quiet, no one venturing to eat or speak until the plates of all had been heaped with a little of everything upon the table, the meal became very genial and pleas- ant A huge brown pitcher of stinging cider added its mild stimulus to the calm country blood, and under its mellowing influence Mark announced the most important fact of his life, he was to have the building of Hallowell's barn. As Gilbert and his mother rode homewards, that after- noon, neither spoke much, but both felt, in some indefinite a/, better prepared for the life that lay before them. THE STCBY OF KENNETT. 77 CHAPTER AT DK. DEANE'S. As she dismounted on the large flat stone outside the paling, Martha Deane saw her father's face at the window. It was sterner and graver than usual. The Deane mansion stood opposite the Unicorn Tavern. When built, ninety years previous, it had been considered a triumph of architecture ; the material was squared logs from the forest, dovetailed, and overlapping at the corners, which had the effect of rustic quoins, as contrasted with the front, which was plastered and yellow-washed. A small portico, covered with a tangled mass of eglantine and coral honeysuckle, with a bench at each end, led to the door ; and the ten feet of space between it and the front paling were devoted to flowers and rose-bushes. At each corner of the front rose an old, picturesque, strag- gling cedar-tree. There were two front doors, side by side, one for the family sitting-room, the other (rarely opened, except when guests arrived) for the parlor. Martha Deane entered the former, and we will enter with her. The room was nearly square, and lighted by two win- dows. On those sides the logs were roughly plastered; on the others there were partitions of panelled oak, nearly black with age and smoke, as were the heavy beams of the same wood which formed the ceiling. In the corner of the room next the kitchen there was an open Frank- lin stove, an innovation at that time, upon which two or three hickory sticks were smouldering into snowy ashes. / THE STORY OF KENNETT. The floor was covered with a country-made rag carpet, in which an occasional strip of red or blue listing bright- ened the prevailing walnut color of the woof. The furni- ture was simple and massive, its only unusual feature being a tall cabinet with shelves filled with glass jars, and an in- finity of small drawers. A few bulky volumes on the lower shelf constituted the medical library of Dr. Deane. This gentleman was still standing at the window, with his hands clasped across his back. His Quaker suit was of the finest drab broadcloth, and the plain cravat visible above his high, straight waistcoat, was of spotless cam- bric. His knee- and shoe-buckles were of the simplest pattern, but of good, solid silver, and there was not a wrinkle in the stockings of softest lamb's-wool, which cov- ered his massive calves. There was always a faint odor of lavender, bergamot, or sweet marjoram about him, and it was a common remark in the neighborhood that the sight and smell of the Doctor helped a weak patient almost as much as his medicines. In his face there was a curious general resemblance to his daughter, though the detached features were very dif- ferently formed. Large, unsymmetrical, and somewhat coarse, even for a man, they derived much of their effect from his scrupulous attire and studied air of wisdom. His long gray hair was combed back, that no portion of the moderate frontal brain might be covered ; the eyes were gray rather than blue, and a habit of concealment had marked its lines in the corners, unlike the open, perfect frankness of his daughter's. The principal resemblance vas in the firm, clear outline of the upper lip, which alone, in his face, had it been supported by the under one, would have made him almost handsome ; but the latter was large and slightly hanging. There were marked incon- sistencies in his face, but this was no disadvantage in a community unaccustomed to studying the external marka of character. THE STORY of RKSNETT. 79 "Just home, father? How did thee leave Dinah Pass- more ? " asked Martha, as she untied the strings of her beaver. " Better," he answered, turning from the window ; " but, Martha, who did I see thee riding with?" " Does thee mean Gilbert Potter ? " " I do," he said, and paused. Martha, with her cloak over her arm and bonnet in her hand, in act to leave the room, waited, saying, Well, father"? " So frank and serene was her bearing, that the old man felt both relieved and softened. M I suppose it happened so," he said. " I saw his mother with Friend Fairthorn. I only meant thee should n't be seen in company with young Potter, when thee could help it ; thee knows what I mean." " I don't think, father," she slowly answered, " there is anything against Gilbert Potter's life or character, except that which is no just reproach to him." " ' The sins of the parents shall be visited upon the chil- dren, even to the third and fourth generation.' That is enough, Martha." O * She went up to her room, meditating, with an earnest- ness almost equal to Gilbert's, upon this form of the world's injustice, which he was powerless to overcome. Her father shared it, and the fact did not surprise her ; but her inde- pendent spirit had already ceased to be guided, in all things, by his views. She felt that the young man de- served the respect and admiration which he had inspired in her mind, and until a better reason could be discovered, shs would continue so to regard him. The decision was reached rapidly, and then laid aside for any future neces- sity ; she went down-stairs again in her usual quiet, cheer- ful mood. During her absence another conversation had taken place. 80 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Miss Betsy Lavender (who was a fast friend of Marf ha, and generally spent her Sundays at the Doctor's,) was sitting before the stove, drying her feet. She was silent until Martha left the room, when she suddenly exclaimed : " Doctor ! Judge not that ye be not judged." " Thee may think as thee pleases, Betsy," said he, rathei sharply : " it 's thy nature, I believe, to take everybody's part." " Put yourself in his place," she continued, " remem- ber them that 's in bonds as bound with 'em, I disremem- ber exackly how it goes, but no matter : I say your way a'n't right, and I 'd say it seven times, if need be ! There 's no steadier nor better-doin' young fellow in these parts than Gilbert Potter. Ferris, down in Pennsbury, or Alf Barton, here, for that matter, a'n't to be put within a mile of him. I could say something in Mary Potter's behalf, too, but I won't : for there 's Scribes and Pharisees about." Dr. Deane did not notice this thrust : it was not his habit to get angry ' Put thyself in my place, Betsy," he said. fc He 's a wortny young man, in some respects, I grant thee, but would thee like thy daughter to be seen riding home beside him from Meeting ? It 's one thing speaking for thyself, and another for thy daughter." " Thy daughter ! " she repeated. " Old or young cant make any difference, as I see." There was something else on her tongue, but she forci- bly withheld the words. She would not exhaust her am- munition until there was both a chance and a necessity to do some execution. The next moment Martha reentered the room. After dinner, they formed a quiet group in the front sit- ting-room. Dr. Deane, having no more visits to make that day, took a pipe of choice tobacco, the present of a Vir- ginia Friend, whose acquaintance he had made at Yearly Meeting, and seated himself in the arm-chair beside the stove. Martha, at the west window, enjoyed a volume of THE STORY OF KENNETT. 81 Hannah More, and Miss Botsy, at the front window, labored over the Psalms. The sun shone with dim, muf- fled orb, but the air without was mild, and there were already brown tufts, which would soon be blossoms, on the lilac twigs. Suddenly Miss Betsy lifted up her head and exclaimed, " Well, I never ! " As she did so, there was a knock at the door. " Come in !" said Dr. Deane, and in came Mr. Alfred Barton, resplendent in blue coat, buff waistcoat, cambric ruffles, and silver-gilt buckles. But, alas ! the bunch of seals topaz, agate, and cornelian no longer buoyed the deep-anchored watch. The money due his father had been promptly paid, through the agency of a three-months' promissory note, and thus the most momentous result of the robbery was overcome. This security for the future, however, scarcely consoled him for the painful privation of the present. Without the watch, Alfred Barton felt that much of his dignity and importance was lacking. Dr. Deane greeted his visitor with respect, Martha with the courtesy due to a guest, and Miss Betsy with the off- hand, independent manner, under which she masked her private opinions of the persons whom she met " Mark is n't at home, I see," said Mr. Barton, after hav- ing taken his seat in the centre of the room : " I thought I 'd have a little talk with him about the wagon-house. I suppose he told you that I got Hallowell's new barn for him?" " Yes, and we 're all greatly obliged to thee, as well as Mark," said the Doctor. " The two jobs make a fine start for a young mechanic, and I hope he '11 do as well as he 'a been done by: there 's luck in a good beginning. By the bye, has thee heard anything more of Sandy Flash's doings ? " Mr. Barton fairly started at this question. His own mis- fortune had been carefully kept secret, and he could not 6S THE STORY OF KENNETT. suspect that the Doctor knew it ; but he nervously dreaded the sound of the terrible name. " What is it ? " he asked, in a faint voice. " He has turned up in Bradford, this time, and they say has robbed Jesse Frame, the Collector, of between foul and five hundred dollars. The Sheriff and a posse of men from the Valley hunted him for several days, but found no signs. Some think he has gone up into the Welch Moun- tain ; but for my part, I should not be surprised if he were hi this neighborhood." " Good heavens ! " exclaimed Mr. Barton, starting from his chair. " Now 's your chance," said Miss Betsy. " Git the young men together who won't feel afraid o' bein' twenty ag'in one : you know the holes and corners where he '11 be likely to hide, and what 's to hinder you from ketchin' him ? " " But he must have many secret friends," said Martha, " if what I have heard is true, that he has often helped a poor man with the money which he takes only from the rich. You know he still calls himself a Tory, and many of those whose estates have been confiscated, would not scruple to harbor him, or even take his money." "Take his money. That 's a fact," remarked Miss Betsy, " and now I dunno whether I want him ketched. There 's worse men goiu' round, as respectable as you please, stealin' all their born days, only cunnin'ly jukin' round the law instead o' buttin' square through it Why, old Liz Williams, o' Birmingham, herself told me with her own mouth, how she was ridin' home from Phildelphy mar- ket last winter, with six dollars, the price of her turkeys and General Washin'ton's cook took one of 'em, but that 'b neither here nor there in her pocket, and fearful as death when she come to Concord woods, and lo and be- hold ! there she was overtook by a fresh-complected man, and she begged him to ride with her, for she had six dol- lars in her pocket and Sandy was known to be about S THE STORY OF KENNETT. 88 he rode with her to her very lane-end, as kind and civil a person as she ever^see, and then and there he said, Don't be afeard, Madam, for I, which have seen you home, is Sandy Flash himself, and here 's somethin' more to remem- ber me by,' no sooner said than done, he put a goold guinea into her hand, and left her there as petrified as Lot's wife. Now /say, and it may be violation of the law, for all I know, but never mind, that Sandy Flash has got one corner of his heart in the right place, no matter where the others is. There 's honor even among thieves, they say." " Seriously, Alfred," said Dr. Deane, cutting Miss Betsy short before she had half expressed her sentiments, " it is time that something was done. If Flash is n'ot caught soon, we shall be overrun with thieves, and there will be no security anywhere on the high roads, or in our houses. 1 wish that men of influence in the neighborhood, like thy- self, would come together and plan, at least, to keep Ken- nett cleat of him. Then other townships may do the same, and so the thing be stopped. If I were younger, and my practice were not so laborious, I would move in the matter, but thee is altogether a more suitable per- son." " Do you think so ? " Barton replied, with an irrepressi- ble reluctance, around which he strove to throw an air of modesty. " That would be the proper way, certainly, but I, I don't know, that is, I can't flatter myself that I 'm the best man to undertake it" " It requires some courage, you know," Martha remarked, and her glance made him feel very uncomfortable, " and you are too dashing a fox-hunter not to have that Per- haps the stranger who rode with you to Avondale what was his name ? might be of service. If I were in your place, I should be glad of a chance to incur danger for the good of the neighborhood." Mr. Alfred Barton was on nettles. If there were irony 84 THE STORY OF KENNETT. in her words his intellect was too muddy to detect ii : hei assumption of his courage could only be accepted as a com- pliment, but it was the last compliment he desired to have paid to himself, just at that time. a Yes," he said, with a forced laugh, rushing desperately into the opposite extreme, " but the danger and the couiage are not worth talking about. Any man ought to be able to face a robber, single-handed, and as for twenty men, why when it '& once known, Sandy Flash will only be too glad to keep away." " Then, do thee do what I 've recommended. It may be, as thee says, that the being prepared is all that is nec- essary," remarked Dr. Deane. Thus cfcught, Mr. Barton could do no less than acqui- esce, and very much to his secret dissatisfaction, the Doctor proceeded to name the young men of the neighborhood, promising to summon such as lived on the lines of his pro- fessional journeys, that they might confer with the leader of the undertaking. Martha seconded the plan with an evident interest, yet it did not escape her that neither her father nor Mr. Barton had mentioned the name of Gilbert Potter. " Is that all ? " she asked, when a list of some eighteen persons had been suggested. Involuntarily, she looked at Miss Betsy Lavender. " No, indeed ! " cried the latter. " There 's Jabez Tra- villa, up on the ridge, and Gilbert Potter, down at the mill." " H'rn, yes ; what does thee say, Alfred ? " asked the Doctor. " They 're both good riders, and I think they have cour- age enough, but we can never tell what a man is until he 's been tried. They would increase the number, and that, it seems to me, is a consideration." " Perhaps thee had better exercise thy own judgment there/' the Doctor observed, and the subject, having beer THE STORY OF KENNETT. 85 u fully discussed as was possible without consultation with other persons, it was dropped, greatly to Barton's relief. But in endeavoring to converse with Martha he only exchanged one difficulty for another. His vanity, power- ful as it was, gave way before that instinct which is the curse and torment of vulgar natures, which leaps into life at every contact of refinement, showing them the gulf between, which they know not how to cross. The impu- dence, the aggressive rudeness which such natures often exhibit, is either a mask to conceal their deficiency, or an angry protest against it. Where there is a drop of gentle- ness in the blood, it appreciates and imitates the higher nature. This was the feeling which made Alfred Barton uncom- fortable in the presence of Martha Deane, which told him, in advance, thai natures so widely sundered, never could come into near relations with each other, and thus quite neutralized the attraction of her beauty and her ten thousand dollars. His game, however, was to pay court to her, and in so pointed a way that it should be remarked and talked about in the neighborhood. Let it once come through others to the old man's ears, he would have proved his obedience and could not be reproached if the result were fruitless. " What are you reading, Miss Martha ? " he asked, aftei a long and somewhat awkward pause. She handed him the book in reply. " Ah ! Hannah More, a friend of yours ? Is she one of the West-Whiteland Moores ? " Martha could not suppress a light, amused laugh, as she answered : " Oh, no, she is an English woman." "Then it's a Tory book," said he, handing it back; "I would n't read it, if I was you." " It is a story, and I should think you might" He heard other words than those she spoke. u Af Tory as what?" he asked himself. "As I am," of fcfl THK STORY OF KENNEfT. course : that is what she means. " Old-man Barton " had been one of the disloyal purveyors for the British army during its occupancy of Philadelphia in the winter of 1777-8, and though the main facts of the traffic where- from he had drawn immense profits, never could be proved against him, the general belief hung over the family, and made a very disagreeable cloud. Whenever Alfred Bar- ton quarrelled with any one, the taunt was sure to be flung into his teeth. That it came now, as he imagined, was as great a shock as if Martha had slapped him in the face with her own delicate hand, and his visage reddened from the blow. Miss Betsy Lavender, bending laboriously over the Psalms, nevertheless kept her dull gray eyes in move- ment She saw the misconception, and fearing that Martha did not, made haste to remark : " "Well, Mr. Alfred, and do you think it 's a harm to read a story ? Why, Miss Ann herself lent me ' Alonzo and Melissa,' and ' Midnight Horrors,' and I '11 be bound you 've read 'em yourself on the sly. 'T a'n't much other readin' men does, save and except the weekly paper, and law enough to git a tight hold on their debtors. Come, now ; let 's know what you do read ? " "Not much of anything, that's a fact," he answered, recovering himself, with a shudder at the fearful mistake he had been on the point of making, " but I 've nothing against women reading stories. I was rather thinking of myself when I spoke to you, Miss Martha." " So I supposed," she quietly answered. It was provok- ing. Everything she said made him think there was an- other meaning behind the words ; her composed manner, though he knew it to be habitual, more and more discon- certed him. Never did an intentional wooer find his wooing so painful and laborious. After this attempt he addressed himself to Doctor Deane, for even the question of circumventing Sandy Flash now presented itself to bii mind as a relief. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 97 There he sat, and the conversation progressed In jerks and spirts, between pauses of embarrassing silence. The sun hung on the western hill in a web of clouds ; Martha and Miss Betsy rose and prepared the tea-table, and the guest, invited perforce, perforce accepted. Soon after the meal was over, however, he murmured something about cattle, took his hat and left. Two or three horses were hitched before the Unicorn, and he saw some figures through the bar-room window. A bright thought struck him ; he crossed the road and entered. " Hallo, Alf ! Where from now ? Why, you 're as fine as a fiddler ! " cried Mr. Joel Ferris, who was fast be- coming familiar, on the strength of his inheritance. " Over the way," answered the landlord, with a wink and a jerk of his thumb. Mr. Ferris whistled, and one of the others suggested: " He must stand a treat, on that" " But, I say ! " said the former, " how is it you 're coming away so soon in the evening ? " ** I went very early in the afternoon," Barton answered, with a mysterious, meaning smile, as much as to say : "It's all right ; I know what I 'm about" Then he added aloud, " Step up, fellows ; what '11 you have ? " Many were the jests and questions to which he was forced to submit, but he knew the value of silence in creating an impression, and allowed them to enjoy their own inferences. It is much easier to start a report, than to counteract it, when once started ; but the first, only, was his business. It was late in the evening when he returned home, and the household were in bed. Nevertheless, he did not enter by the back way, in his stockings, but called Giles down from the garret to unlock the front-door, and made as much noise as he pleased on his way to bed. The old man heard it, and chuckled under his coverlet THE STORY OF KENNETT. CHAPTER EX. THE RAISING. STEADILY and serenely the Spring advanced. Old peo- ple shook their heads and said : " It will be April, thi/i year, that comes in like a lamb and goes out like a lion," but it was not so. Soft, warm showers and frostless nights repaid the trustfulness of the early-expanding buds, and May came clothed completely in pale green, with a wreath of lilac and hawthorn bloom on her brow. For twenty years no such perfect spring had been known ; and for twenty years afterwards the farmers looked back to it as a standard of excellence, whereby to measure the forward- ness of their crops. By the twentieth of April the young white-oak leaven were the size of a squirrel's ear, the old Indian sign of the proper time for corn-planting, which was still accepted by the new race, and the first of May saw many fields already specked with the green points of the springing blades. A warm, silvery vapor hung over the land, mel- lowing the brief vistas of the interlacing valleys, touching with a sweeter pastoral beauty the irregular alternation of- field and forest, and lifting the wooded slopes, far and near, to a statelier and more imposing height. The park-like region of Kennett, settled originally by emigrants from Bucks and Warwickshire, reproduced to their eyes as it does to this day the characteristics of their original home, and they transplanted the local names to which they were accustomed, and preserved, even long after the War of Independence, the habits of their rural ancestry. The THE STORY OF KENNETT. 8S massive stone farm-houses, the walled gardens, the bounti- ful orchards, and, more than all, the well-trimmed hedges of hawthorn and blackthorn dividing their fields, or bor- dering their roads with the living wall, over which the cle- matis and wild-ivy love to clamber, made the region beauti- ful to their eyes. Although the large original grants, mostly given by the hand of William Penn, had been di- vided and subdivided by three or four prolific generations, there was still enough and to spare, and even the golden promise held out by " the Backwoods," as the new States of Ohio and Kentucky were then called, tempted very few to leave their homes. The people, therefore, loved the soil and clung to it with a fidelity very rare in any part of our restless nation. And, truly, no one who had lived through the mild splendor of that spring, seeing, day by day, the visible deepening of the soft woodland tints, hearing the cheerful sounds of la- bor, far and wide, in the vapory air, and feeling at once the repose and the beauty of such a quiet, pastoral life, could have turned his back upon it, to battle with the inhospi- table wilderness of the West Gilbert Potter had had ideas of a new home, to be created by himself, and a life to which none should deny honor and respect : but now he gave them up forever. There was a battle to be fought better here than elsewhere here, where every scene was dear and familiar, and every object that met his eye gave a mute, gentle sense of consolation. Restless, yet cheery labor was now the order of life on the farm. From dawn till dusk, Gilbert and Sam were stirring in field, meadow, and garden, keeping pace with the season and forecasting what was yet to come. Sam, although only fifteen, had a manly pride in being equal to the duty imposed upon him by his master's absence, and when the time came to harness the wagon-team once more, the mother and son walked over the fields together and re- joiced in the order and promise of the farm. The influ- 90 THE STORY OF KENNETT. cnces of the season had unconsciously touched them both. : everything conspired to favor the fulfilment of their com- mon plan, and, as one went forward to the repetition of his tedious journeys back and forth between Columbia and Newport, and the other to her lonely labor in the deserted farm-house, the arches of bells over the collars of the lead- ers chimed at once to the ears of both, an anthem of thanksgiving and a melody of hope. So May and the beginning of June passed away, and no important event came to any character of this history. When Gilbert had delivered the last barrels at Newport, and slowly cheered homewards his weary team, he was nearly two hundred dollars richer than when he started, and if we must confess a universal if somewhat humil- iating truth so much the more a man in courage and de- termination. The country was now covered with the first fresh mag- nificence of summer. The snowy pyramids of dog-wood bloom had faded, but the tulip trees were tall cones of rustling green, lighted with millions of orange-colored stars, and all the underwood beneath the hemlock-forests by the courses of streams, was rosy with laurels and aza- leas. The vernal-grass in the meadows was sweeter than any garden-rose, and its breath met that of the wild-grape in the thickets and struggled for preeminence of sweet- ness. A lush, tropical splendor of vegetation, such as England never knew, heaped the woods and hung the road-side with sprays which grew and bloomed and wan- toned, as if growth were a conscious joy, rather than blind obedience to a law. When Gilbert reached home, released from his labors abroad until October, he found his fields awaiting their owner's hand. His wheat hung already heavy-headed, though green, and the grass stood so thick and strong that it suggested the ripping music of the scythe-blade which should lay it low. Sam had taken good care of the corn THE STORY OF KENNETT. 91 field, garden, and the cattle, and Gilbert's few words of quiet commendation were a rich reward for all his anxiety His ambition was, to be counted " a full hand," this was the toga virilis, which, once entitled to wear, would make him feel that he was any man's equal. Without a day's rest, the labor commenced again, and the passion of Gilbert's heart, though it had only strength- ened during his absence, must be thrust aside until the for- tune of his harvest was secured. In the midst of the haying, however, came a message which he could not disregard, a hasty summons from Mark Deane, who, seeing Gilbert in the upper hill-field, called from the road, bidding him to the raising of Hallo- well's new barn, which was to take place on the following Saturday. " Be sure and come ! " were Mark's closing words " there 's to be both dinner and supper, and the girls are to be on hand ! " It was the custom to prepare the complete frame of a barn sills, plates, girders, posts, and stays with all their mortices and pins, ready for erection, and then to summon all the able-bodied men of the neighborhood to assist in getting the timbers into place. This service, of course, was given gratuitously, and the farmer who received it could do no less than entertain, after the bountiful man- ner of the country, his helping neighbors, who therefore, although the occasion implied a certain amount of hard work, were accustomed to regard it as a sort of holiday, or merry-making. Their opportunities for recreation, indeed, were so scanty, that a barn-raising, or a husking-partj by moonlight, was a thing to be welcomed. Hallowell's farm was just half-way between Gilbert's and Kennett Square, and the site of the barn had been well- chosen on a ridge, across the road, which ran between it and the farm-house. The Hallowells were what was called " good providers," and as they belonged to the class of out- side Quakers, which we have already described, the chancel 92 THE STORY OF KENNEIT. were that both music and dance would reward the labor of the day. Gilbert, of course, could not refuse the invitation of so near a neighbor, and there was a hope in his heart which made it welcome. When the day came he was early on hand, heartily greeted by Mark, who exclaimed, "Give me a dozen more such shoulders and arms as yours, and I '11 make the timbers spin ! " It was a bright, breezy day, making the wheat roll and the leaves twinkle. Ranges of cumuli moved, one after the other, like heaps of silvery wool, across the keen, dark blue of the sky. " A wonderful hay-day," the old fanners remarked, with a half-stifled sense of regret; but the younger men had already stripped themselves to their shirts and knee-breeches, and set to work with a hearty good-will. Mark, as friend, half-host and commander, bore his triple responsibility with a mixture of dash and decision, which became his large frame and ruddy, laugh- ing face. It was really, and not in an oratorical sense, the proudest day of his life. There could be no finer sight than that of these lithe, vigorous specimens of a free, uncorrupted manhood, taking like sport the rude labor which was at once their destiny and their guard of safety against the assaults of the senses. As they bent to their work, prying, rolling, and lifting the huge sills to their places on the foundation-wall, they showed in every movement the firm yet elastic action of muscles equal to their task. Though Hallowell's barn did not rise, like the walls of Ilium, to music, a fine human harmony aided in its construction. There was a plentiful supply of whiskey on hand, but Mark Deane assumed the charge of it, resolved that no accident or other disturbance should mar the success of this, his first raising. Everything went well, and by the time tihey were summoned to dinner, the sills and some of the uprights were in place, properly squared and tied. THE STORY OF KENNETT. >JJ It would require a Homeric catalogue to describe the dinner. To say that the table " groaned," is to give no idea of its condition. Mrs. Hallowell and six neighbors' o wives moved from kitchen to dining-room, replenishing the dishes as fast as their contents diminished, and plying the double row of coatless guests with a most stern and exacting hospitality. The former would have been seri- ously mortified had not each man endeavored to eat twice his usual requirement. After the slight rest which nature enforced though far less than nature demanded, after such a meal the work went on again with greater alacrity, since every tim- ber showed. Rib by rib the great frame grew, and those perched aloft, pinning the posts and stays, rejoiced in the broad, bright landscape opened to their view. They watched the roads, in the intervals of their toil, and an- nounced the approach of delayed guests, all alert for the sight of the first riding-habit. Suddenly two ladies made their appearance, over the rise of the hill, one cantering lightly and securely, the other bouncing in her seat, from the rough trot of her horse. " Look out ! there they come ! " cried a watcher. u Who is it ? " was asked from below. " Where 's Barton ? He ought to be on hand, it 'a Martha Deane, and Sally wijth her ; they always ride together." Gilbert had one end of a handspike, helping lift a heavy piece of timber, and his face was dark with the strain ; it was well that he dared not let go until the lively gossip which followed Barton's absence, the latter having im- mediately gone forward to take charge 01 me horses, had subsided. Leaning on the handspike, he panted, act entirely from fatigue. A terrible possibility of loss flashed suddenly across his mind, revealing to him, in a oew light, the desperate force and desire of his love. There was no time for meditation ; his help was again 94 THE STORY OF KENNETT. wanted, and he expended therein the first hot tumult of his heart. By ones and twos the girls now gathered rap- idly, and erelong they came out in a body to have a look at the raising. Their coming in no wise interrupted the labor ; it was rather an additional stimulus, and the young men were right. Although they were not aware of the fact, they were never so handsome in their uneasy Sunday costume and awkward social ways, as thus in their free, joyous, and graceful element of labor. Greetings were interchanged, laughter and cheerful nothings animated the company, and when Martha Deane said, " We may be in the way, now shall we go in ? " Mark responded, " No, Martha ! No, girls ! I '11 get twice as much work out o' my twenty-five 'jours,' if you '11 only stand where you are and look at 'em." " Indeed ! " Sally Fairthorn exclaimed. " But we have work to do as well as you. If you men can't get along vithout admiring spectators, we girls can." The answer which Mark would have made to this pert speech was cut short by a loud cry of pain or terror from the old half-dismantled barn on the other side of the road. All eyes were at once turned in that direction, and beheld Joe Fairthorn rushing at full speed down the bank, making for the stables below. Mark, Gilbert Potter, and Sally, being nearest, hastened to' the spot. u You 're in time ! " cried Joe, clapping his hands in great glee. " I was awfully afeard he 'd let go before I could git down to see him fall. Look quick he can't hold on much longer ! " Looking into the dusky depths, they saw Jake, hanging by his hands to the edges of a hole jn the floor above, yell- ing and kicking for dear life. " You wicked, wicked boy ! " exclaimed Sally, turning to Joe, " what have you been doing ? " "Oh," ne answered, jerking and twisting with fearful THE STORY OF KENNETT. 99 delight, " there was such a nice hole in the floor ! I cov- ered it all over with straw, but I had to wait ever so long before Jake stepped onto it, and then he ketched hold goin' down, and nigh spoilt the fun." Gilbert made for the barn-floor, to succor the helpless dstim ; but just as his step was heard on the boards, Jake's strength gave way. His fingers slipped, and with a last howl down he dropped, eight or ten feet, upon a bed of dry manure. Then his terror was instantly changed to wrath : he bounced upon his feet, seized a piece of rotten board, and made after Joe, who, anticipating the result, was already showing his heels down the road. Meanwhile the other young ladies had followed, and so, after discussing the incident with a mixture of amuse- ment and horror, they betook themselves to the house, te assist in the preparations for supper. Martha Deane's eyes took in the situation, and immediately perceived that it was capable of a picturesque improvement. In front of the house stood a superb sycamore, beyond which a trellis of grape-vines divided the yard from the kitchen-garden. Here, on the cool green turf, under shade, in the bright summer air, she proposed that the tables should be set, and found little difficulty in carrying her point It was quite convenient to the outer kitchen door, and her ready invention found means of overcoming all other technical objections. Erelong the tables were transported to the spot, the cloth laid, and the aspect of the coming entertain- ment grew so pleasant to the eye, that there was a special satisfaction in the labor. An hour before sundown the frame was completed ; the skeleton of the great barn rose sharp against the sky, its fresh white-oak timber gilded by the sunshine. Mark drove in the last pin, gave a joyous shout, which was an- swered by an irregular cheer from below, and lightly clam- bered down by one of the stays. Then the black jugs were produced, and passed from mouth to mouth, and the 96 THE STORY OF KENNETT. ruddy, glowing young fellows drew their shirt -sleeve* across their faces, and breathed the free, full breath of rest Gilbert Potter, sitting beside Mark, the two were mutually drawn towards each other, without knowing or considering why, had gradually worked himself into a resolution to be cool, and to watch the movements of his presumed rival. More than once, during the afternoon, he had detected Barton's eyes, fixed upon him with a more than accidental interest ; looking up now, he met them again, but they were quickly withdrawn, with a shy, uneasy expression, which he could not comprehend. Was it pos- sible that Barton conjectured the carefully hidden secret of his heart? Or had the country gossip been free with his name, in some way, during his absence ? Whatever it was, the dearer interests at stake prevented him from dis- missing it from his mind. He was preternaturally alert, suspicious, and sensitive. He was therefore a little startled, when, as they were all rising in obedience to Farmer Hallowell's summons to supper, Barton suddenly took hold of his arm. " Gilbert," said he, " we want your name in a list of young men we are getting together, for the protection of our neighborhood. There are suspicions, you know, that Sandy Flash has some friends hereabouts, though nobody seems to know exactly who they are ; and our only safety is in clubbing together, to smoke him out and hunt him down, if he ever comes near us. Now, you 're a good bunter " " Put me down, of course ! " Gilbert interrupted, im- mensely relieved to find how wide his suspicions had fallen from the mark. " That would be a more stirring chase than our last ; it is a shame and a disgrace that he is still at large." " How many have we now ? " asked Mark, who wai walking on tho other side of Barton. THE STORY OF KENNETT. t7 "Twenty-one, with Gilbert," the latter replied. u "Well, as Sandy is said to count equal to twenty, we san meet him evenly, and have one to spare," laughed Mara. " Has any one here ever seen the fellow ? " asked Gilbert * We ought to know his marks." " He 's short, thick-set, with a red face, jet-black hair, add heavy whiskers," said Barton. " Jet-black hair ! " Mark exclaimed ; u why, it 's red as brick-dust ! And I never heard that he wore whiskers." "Pshaw! what was I thinking of? Red, of course 1 meant red, all the time," Barton hastily assented, inwardlj cursing himself for a fool. It was evident that the less he conversed about Sandy Flash, the better. Loud exclamations of surprise and admiration inter- i apted them. In the shade of the sycamore, on the bright green floor of the silken turf, stood the long supper-table, snowily draped, and heaped with the richest products of cellar, kitchen, and dairy. Twelve chickens, stewed in cream, filled huge dishes at the head and foot, while hams and rounds of cold roast-beef accentuated the space be- tween. The interstices were filled with pickles, pies, jars of marmalade, bowls of honey, and plates of cheese. Four coffee-pots steamed in readiness on a separate table, and the young ladies, doubly charming in their fresh white aprons, stood waiting to serve the tired laborers. Clumps of crown-roses, in blossom, peered over the garden-paling, the woodbine filled the air with its nutmeg odors, and a broad sheet of sunshine struck the upper boughs of the arching sycamore, and turned them into a gilded canopy for the banquet It might have been truly said of Martha Deane. that she touched nothing which she did not adorn. In the midst of her duties as directress of the festival, she caught a glimpse of the three men, as they approached together, somewhat in the rear of the others. The em- barrassed flush had not quite faded from Barton's face, and Gilbert's was touched by a lingering sign of his new 98 THE STORY OF KENNETI. trouble. Mark, light-hearted and laughing, precluded the least idea of mystery, but Gilbert's eye met hers with what she felt to be a painfully earnest, questioning expression. The next moment they were seated at the table, and he? services were required on behalf of all. Unfortunately for the social enjoyments of Kennett, eating had come to be regarded as a part of labor ; silence and rapidity were its principal features. Board and plat- ter were cleared in a marvellously short time, the plates changed, the dishes replenished, and then the wives and maidens took the places of the young men, who lounged off to the road-side, some to smoke their pipes, and all to gossip. Before dusk, Giles made his appearance, with an old green bag under his arm. Barton, of course, had the credit of this arrangement, and it made him, for the time, very popular. After a pull at the bottle, Giles began to screw his fiddle, drawing now and then unearthly shrieks from its strings. The more eager of the young men there- upon stole to the house, assisted in carrying in the tables and benches, and in other ways busied themselves to bring about the moment when the aprons of the maidens could be laid aside, and their lively feet given to the dance. The moon already hung over the eastern wood, and a light breeze blew the dew-mist from the hill. Finally, they were all gathered on the open bit of lawn between the house and the road. There was much hesi- tation at first, ardent coaxing and bashful withdrawal, until Martha broke the ice by boldly choosing Mark as hei partner, apportioning Sally to Gilbert, and taking her place for a Scotch reel. She danced well and lightly, though in a more subdued manner than was then custom- ary. In this respect, Gilbert resembled her ; his steps, gravely measured, though sufficiently elastic, differed widely from Mark's springs, pigeon-wings, and curvets. Giles played with a will, swaying head and fiddle up and THE STORT OF RENNETT. 9i and beating time with his foot ; and the reel went off so successfully that there was no hesitation in getting up the next dance. Mark was alert, and secured Sally this time. Perhaps Gilbert would have made the like exchange, but Mr. O * Alfred Barton stepped before him, and bore off Martha. There was no appearance of design about the matter, but Gilbert felt a hot tingle in his blood, and drew back a little to watch the pair. Martha moved through the dance as if but half conscious of her partner's presence, and he seemed more intent on making the proper steps and flour- ishes than on improving the few brief chances for a confi- dential word. When he spoke, it was with the unnecessary laugh, which is meant to show ease of manner, and betrays the want of it Gilbert was puzzled ; either the two were unconscious of the gossip which linked their names so in- timately, (which seemed scarcely possible,) or they were studedly concealing an actual tender relation. AffiDng those simple-hearted people, the shyness of love rivalled the secrecy of crime, and the ways by which the lover sought to assure himself of his fortune were made very difficult by the shrinking caution with which he concealed the evidence of his passion. Gilbert knew how well the secret of his own heart was guarded, and the reflection, that others might be equally inscrutable, smute him with sudden pain. The figures moved before him in the splendid moonlight, and with every motion of Martha's slender form the glow of his passion and the torment of his uncertainty increased. Then the dance dissolved, and while he still stood with folded arms, Sally Fairthorn's voice whispered eagerly in bis ear, "Gilbert Gilbert! now is your chance to engage Martha for the Virginia reel ! " " Let me choose my own partners, Sally ! ' he said, fa sternly, that she opened wide her black eyes. 100 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Martha, fanning herself with her handkerchief spread over a bent willow-twig, suddenly passed before him, like an angel in the moonlight. A soft, tender star sparkled in each shaded eye, a faint rose-tint flushed her cheeks, and her lips, slightly parted to inhale the clover-scented air, were touched with a sweet, consenting smile. Martha ! " The word passed Gilbert's lips almost before he knew he had uttered it. Almost a whisper, but she heard, and, pausing, turned towards him. " Will you dance with me now ? " " Am I your choice, or Sally's, Gilbert ? I overheard your very independent remark." u Mine ! " he said, with only half truth. A deep color shot into his face, and he knew the moonlight revealed it, but he forced his eyes to meet hers. Her face lost its playful expression, and she said, gently, " Then I accept" They took their places, and the interminable Virginia reel under which name the old-fashioned Sir Roger de Coverley was known commenced. It so happened that Gilbert and Mr. Alfred Barton had changed their recent O places. The latter stood outside the space allotted to the dance, and appeared to watch Martha Deane and her new partner. The reviving warmth in Gilbert's bosom instantly died, and gave way to a crowd of torturing conjectures. He went through his part in the dance so abstractedly, that when they reached the bottom of the line, Martha, out of friendly consideration for him, professed fatigue and asked his permission to withdraw from the company. He gave her his arm, and they moved to one of the benches. " You, also, seem tired, Gilbert," she said. " Yes no ! " he answered, confusedly, feeling that he was beginning to tremble. He stood before her as she sat, moved irresolutely, as if to leave, and then, facing hei with a powerful effort, he exclaimed, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 101 "Martha, do you know what people say about Alfred Barton and yourself? " u It would make no difference if I did," she answered ; u people will say anything." tt But is it is it true ? " " Is what true ? " she quietly asked. u That he is to marry you ! " The words were said, and ae would have given his life to recall them. He dropped his head, not daring to meet her eyes. Martha Deane rose to her feet, and stood before him. Then he lifted his head ; the moon shone full upon it, while her face was in shadow, but he saw the fuller light of her eye, the firmer curve of her lip. " Gilbert Potter," she said, " what right have you to ask me such a question ? " a I have no right none," he answered, in a voice whose suppressed, husky tones were not needed to inter- pret the pain and bitterness of his face. Then he quickly turned away and left her. Martha Deane remained a minute, motionless, standing as he left her. Her heart was beating fast, and she could not immediately trust herself to rejoin the gay company. But now the dance was over, and the inseparable Sally hastened forward. " Martha ! " cried the latter, hot and indignant, " what is the matter with Gilbert ? He is behaving shamefully. I saw him just now turn away from you as if you were a a shock of corn. And the way he snapped me up it i* really outrageous ! " ** It seems so, truly," said Martha. But she knew thai Gilbert Potter loved her, and with what a love. 108 THE STORY OF KENNETT. CHAPTER X. THE RIVALS. WITH the abundant harvest of that year, and the sud- den and universal need of extra labor for a fortnight, Gil- bert Potter would have found his burden too heavy, but for welcome help from an unexpected quarter. On the very morning that he first thrust his sickle into the ripened wheat, Deb Smith made her appearance, in a short-armed chemise and skirt of tow-cloth. " I knowed ye 'd want a hand," she said, " without sendin' to ask. I '11 reap ag'inst the best man in Chester County, and you won't begrudge me my bushel o' wheat a day, when the harvest 's in." With this exordium, and a pull at the black jug under the elder-bushes in the fence-corner, she took her sickle and bent to work. It was her boast that she could beat both men and women on their own ground. She had spun her twenty-four cuts of yarn, i^n a day, and husked her fifty shocks of heavy corn. For Gilbert she did her best, amazing him each day with a fresh performance, and was well worth the additional daily quart of whiskey which she consumed. In this pressing, sweltering labor, Gilbert dulled, though he could not conquer, his unhappy mood. Mary Potter, with a true mother's instinct, surmised a trouble, but the indications were too indefinite for conjecture. She could only hope that her son had not been called upon to suffer a fresh reproach, from the unremoved stain hanging over his birth. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 108 Miss Betsy Lavender's company at this time iriis her greatest relief, in a double sense. No ten persons in Ken- nett possessed half the amount of confidences which were intrusted to this single lady ; there was that in her face which said : " I only blab what I choose, and what 's locked ap, is locked up." This was true ; she was the greatest distributor of news, and the closest receptacle of secrets anomalous as the two characters may seem that evei blessed a country community. Miss Betsy, like Deb Smith, knew that she could be of service on the Potter farm, and, although her stay was perforce short, on account of an approaching house-warm- ing near Doe- Run, her willing arms helped to tide Mary Potter over the heaviest labor of harvest There were thus hours of afternoon rest, even in the midst of the busy season, and during one of these the mother opened her heart in relation to her son's silent, gloomy moods. " You '11 perhaps say it 's all my fancy, Betsy," she said, " and indeed I hope it is ; but I know you see more than most people, and two heads are better than one. How does Gilbert seem to you ? " Miss Betsy mused awhile, with an unusual gravity on her long face. " I dunno," she remarked, at length ; " I Ve noticed that some men have their vapors and tantrums, jist as some women have, and Gilbert 's of an age to well, Mary, has the thought of his marryin' ever come into your head?" " No ! " exclaimed Mary Potter, with almost a frightened air. u I '11 be bound ! Some women are lookin' out for daughter-in-laws before their sons have a beard, and others think theirs is only fit to wear short jackets when they ought to be raisin' up families. I dunno but what it '11 be a cross to you, Mary, you set so much store by Gilbert, and it 's natural,. like, that you should want to have him all to y'rself, but a man shall leavo his father and mothei 104 THE STORY OF ONtfETl and cleave unto his wife, or somethin' like it Yes, I say it, although nobody clove unto me." Mary Potter said nothing. Her face grew very pale, and such an expression of pain came into it that Miss Betsy, who saw everything without seeming to look at any- thing made haste to add a consoling word. "Indeed, Mary," she said, " now I come to consider upon it, you won't have so much of a cross. You a'n't the mother you 've showed yourself to be, if you 're not anx- ious to see Gilbert happy, and as for leavin' his mother, there '11 be no leavin' needful, in his case, but on the con- trary, quite the reverse, namely, a comin' to you. And it 's no bad fortin', though I can't say it of my own experience ; but never mind, all the same, I 've seen the likes to have a brisk, cheerful daughter-in-law keepin' house, and you a-settin' by the window, knittin' and restin' from morn- in' till night, and maybe little caps and clothes to make, and lots o' things to teach, that young wives don't know o' theirselves. And then, after awhile you '11 be called ' Granny,' but you won't mind it, for grandchildren 's a mighty comfort, and no responsibility like your own. Why, I 've knowed women that never seen what rest or comfort was, till they 'd got to be grandmothers ! " Something in this homely speech touched Mary Potter's heart, and gave her the relief of tears. " Betsy," she said at last, " I have had a heavy burden to bear, and it has made me weak." " Made me weak," Miss Betsy repeated. " And no won- der. Don't think I can't guess that, Mary." Here two tears trickled down the ridge of her nose, and she furtively wiped them off while adjusting her high comb. Mary Potter's face was turned towards her with a wistful, appealing expression, which she understood. " Mary," she said, " I don't measure people with a two- foot rule. I take a ten-foot pole, and let it cover all that comes under it Them that does their dooty to Man, I THE STORY OF KENNETT. lOfi guess won't have much trouble in squarin' accounts with the Lord. You know how I feel towards you without my tellin' of it, and them that 's quick o' the tongue a'n't always full o' the heart. Now, Mary, I know as plain as if you 'd said it, that there 's somethin' on your mind, and you dunno whether to share it with me or not. What I say is, don't hurry yourself; I 'd rather show fellow-feelin' than eur*osity ; so, see your way clear first, and when the tellin' me anything can help, tell it not before." " It would n't help now," Mary Potter responded. " Would n't help now. Then wait awhile. Nothin' 'a so dangerous as speakin' before the time, whomsoever and wheresoever. Folks talk o' bridlin' the tongue ; let 'em git a blind halter, say I, and a curb-bit, and a martingale ! Not that I set an example, Goodness knows, for mine runs like a mill-clapper, rickety-rick, rickety-rick ; but never mind, it may be fast, but it is n't loose ! " In her own mysterious way, Miss Betsy succeeded in imparting a good deal of comfort to Mary Potter. She promised " f '> keep Gilbert under her eyes," which, in- deed, she did, quite unconsciously to himself, during the last two days of her stay. At table she engaged him in conversation, bringing in references, in the most wonder- fully innocent and random manner, to most of the families in the neighborhood. So skilfully did she operate that even Mary Potter failed to perceive her strategy. Deb Smith, sitting bare-armed on the other side of the table, and eating like six dragoons, was the ostensible target of her speech, and Gilbert was thus stealthily approached in flank. When she tied her bonnet-strings to leave, and the mother accompanied her to the gate, she left this indefinite consolation behind her : " Keep up your sperrits, Mary. I think I 'in on the right scent about Gilbert, but these young men are shy foxes. Let me alone, awhile yet, and whatever you do, lei him alone. There 's no danger not even a snarl, J 106 THE STORt OF KENNETT. guess. Nothin' to bother your head about, if you were n t his mother. Good lack ! if I 'm right, you '11 see no more o' his tantrums in two months' time and so, good-bye to you ! " The oats followed close upon the wheat harvest, and there was no respite from labor until the last load was hauled into the barn, filling its ample bays to the ven rafters. Then Gilbert, mounted on his favorite Roger rode up to Kennett Square one Saturday afternoon, in obe- dience to a message from Mr. Alfred Barton, informing him that the other gentlemen would there meet to consult measures for mutual protection against highwaymen in general and Sandy Flash in particular. As every young man in the neighborhood owned his horse and musket, nothing more was necessary than to adopt a system of action. The meeting was held in the bar-room of the Unicorn, and as every second man had his own particular scheme to advocate, it was both long and noisy. Many thought the action unnecessary, but were willing, for the sake of the community, to give their services. The simplest plan to choose a competent leader, and submit to his management never occurred to these free and independent volunteers, until all other means of unity had failed. Then Alfred Barton, as the originator of the measure, was chosen, and presented the rude but sufficient plan which had been suggested to him by Dr. Deane. The men were to meet every Saturday evening at the Unicorn, and exchange intelligence ; but they could be called together at any time by a summons from Barton. The landlord of the Unicorn was highly satisfied with this arrangement, but no one no- ticed the interest with which the ostler, an Irishman named Dougherty, listened to the discussion. Barton's horse was hitched beside Gilbert's, and as the two were mounting, the former said, " If you 're going home, Gilbert, why not conre down THE STORT OF KENNETT. 105 our lane, and go through by Carson's. We can talk the matter over a little ; if there 's any running to do, I de- pend a good deal on your horse." Gilbert saw no reason for declining this invitation, and the two rode side by side down the lane to the Barton farm-house. The sun was still an hour high, but a fragrant odor of broiled herring drifted out of the open kitchen- window. Barton thereupon urged him to stop and take supper, with a cordiality which we can only explain by hinting at his secret intention to become the purchaser of Gilbert's horse. " Old-man Barton " was sitting in his arm-chair by the window, feebly brandishing his stick at the flies, and watch- ing his daughter Ann, as she transferred the herrings from the gridiron to a pewter platter. " Father, this is Gilbert Potter," said Mr. Alfred, intro- ducing his guest The bent head was lifted with an effort, and the keen eyes were fixed on the young man, who came forward to take the crooked, half-extended hand. " What Gilbert Potter ? " he croaked. Mr. Alfred bit his lips, and looked both embarrassed and annoyed. But he could do no less than say, " Mary Potter's son." Gilbert straightened himself proudly, as if to face a coming insult. After a long, steady gaze, the old man gave one of his hieroglyphic snorts, and then muttered to him- self, " Looks like her." During the meal, he was so occupied with the labor of feeding himself, that he seemed to forget Gilbert's pres- ence. Bending his head sideways, from time to time, he jerked out a croaking question, which his son, whatever annoyance he might feel, was force i to answer according to the old man's humor. In at the Doctor's, boy ? " a A few minutes, daddy, before we came together." 108 THE STORY OF KENNETT. a See her ? Was she at home ? " "Yes," came very shortly from Mr. Alfred's lips; hi 1 clenched his fists under the table-cloth. 44 That 's right, boy ; stick up to her ! " and he chuckled and munched together in a way which it made Gilbert sick to hear. The tail of the lean herring on his plate remained un tasted; he swallowed the thin tea which Miss Ann poured out, and the heavy " half-Indian " bread with a choking sensation. He had but one desire, to get away from the room, out of human sight and hearing. Barton, ill at ease, and avoiding Gilbert's eye, accompa- nied him to the lane. He felt that the old man's garrulity ought to be explained, but knew not what to say. Gilbert spared him the trouble- " When are we to wish you joy, Barton ? " he asked, in a cold, hard voice. Barton laughed in a forced way, clutched at his tawny whisker, and with something like a flush on his heavy face, answered in what was meant to be an indifferent tone : " Oh, it 's a joke of the old man's dont mean anything." " It seems to be a joke of the whole neighborhood, then ; I have heard it from others." " Have you ? " Barton eagerly asked. " Do people talk about it much ? What do they say ? " This exhibition of vulgar vanity, as he considered it, was so repulsive to Gilbert, in his desperate, excited condi- tion, that for a moment he did not trust himself to speak. Holding the bridle of his horse, he walked mechanically down the slope, Barton following him. Suddenly he stopped, faced the latter, and said, in a tern voice : " I must know, first, whether you are betrothed to Martha Deane." His manner was so unexpectedly solemn and peremp- tory that Barton, startled from his self-possession, stan> mered, " N-no : that is, not yet." THE STORY OF RENNETT. 109 Another pause. Barton, curious to know how far gossip f;ad already gone, repeated the question : a Well, what do people say ? " fc Some, that you and she will be married," Gilbert an- swered, speaking slowly and with difficulty, "and some that you won't. Which are right ? " " Damme, if / know ! " Barton exclaimed, returning to his customary swagger. It was quite enough that the mat- ter was generally talked about, and he had said nothing to settle it, in either way. But his manner, more than his words, convinced Gilbert that there was no betrothal as yet, and that the vanity of being regarded as the success- ful suitor of a lovely girl had a more prominent place than love, in his rival's heart. By so much was his torture lightened, and the passion of the moment subsided, after having so nearly betrayed itself. M I say, Gilbert," Barton presently remarked, walking on towards the bars which led into the meadow-field ; " it 's time you were looking around in that way, hey ? " " It will be time enough when I am out of debt." u But you ought, now, to have a wife in your house." " I have a mother, Barton." " That 's true, Gilbert. Just as I have a father. The old man's queer, as you saw kept me out of marrying when I was young, and now drives me to it. I might ha had children grown " He paused, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder. Gilbert fancied that he saw on Barton's coarse, dull face, the fleeting stamp of some long-buried regret, and a little of the recent bitterness died out of his heart. u Good-bye ! " he said, offering his hand with greater ease than he would have thought possible, fifteen minutes sooner. u Good-bye, Gilbert ! Take care of Roger. Sandy Flash has a fine piece of horse-flesh, but you beat him nee Damnation ! You could beat him, I mean. If he 110 THE STORY OF KENNETT. comes within ten miles of us, I '11 have the summonses out in no time." Gilbert cantered lightly down the meadow. The soft breath of the summer evening fanned his face, and some- thing of the peace expressed in the rich repose of the landscape fell upon his heart But peace, he felt, could only come to him through love. The shame upon his name the slow result of labor even the painful store of memories which the years had crowded in his brain might all be lightly borne, or forgotten, could his arms once clasp the now uncertain treasure. A tender mist came over his deep, dark eyes, a passionate longing breathed in his softened lips, and he said to himself, " I would lie down and die at her feet, if that could make her happy ; but how to live, and live without her?" This was a darkness which his mind refused to entertain. Love sees no justice on Earth or in Heaven, that includes not its own fulfilled desire. Before reaching home, he tried to review the situation calmly. Barton's true relation to Martha Deane he par- tially suspected, so far as regarded the former's vanity and his slavish subservience to his father's will ; but he was equally avaricious, and it was well known in Kennett that Martha possessed, or would possess, a handsome property in her own right. Gilbert, therefore, saw every reason to believe that Barton was an actual, if not a very passionate wooer. That fact, however, was in itself of no great importance, unless Dr. Deane favored the suit. The result depended on Martha herself; she was called an "independent girl," which she certainly was, by contrast with other girls of the same age. It was this free, firm, independent, yet wholly womanly spirit which Gilbert honored in her, and which (unless her father's influence were too powerful) would yet save her to him, if she but loved him. Then he felt that his nervous, inflammable fear of Barton wai StORY OF KENNETT. Ill Incompatible with true honor for her, with trust in her pure and lofty nature. If she were so easily swayed, how could she stand the test which he was still resolved nay, forced by circumstances to apply ? With something l;ke shame ol his past excitement, yet with strength which had grown out of it, his reflection! were terminated by Roger stopping at the barn-yard gate. 112 THE STORY OF KENNETT CHAPTER XI. GUESTS AT POTTER'S. A WJCEK or two later, there was trouble, but not of very unusual kind, in the Fairthorn household. It waa Sunday, the dinner was on the table, but Joe and Jake were not to be found. The garden, the corn-crib, the barn, and the grove below the house, were searched, without de- tecting the least sign of the truants. Finally Sally's eyes descried a remarkable object moving over the edge of the hill, from the direction of the Philadelphia road. It was a huge round creature, something like a cylindrical tortoise, slowly advancing upon four short, dark legs. " What upon earth is that ? " she cried. All eyes were brought to bear upon this phenomenon which gradually advanced until it reached the fence. Then it suddenly separated into three parts, the' round back fall- ing off, whereupon it was seized by two figures and lifted upon the fence. " It 's the best wash-tub, I do declare ! " said Sally ; " whatever have they been doing with it ? " Having crossed the fence, the boys lifted the inverted tub over their heads, and resumed their march. When they came near enough, it could be seen that their breeches and stockings were not only dripping wet, but streaked with black swamp-mud. This accounted for the unsteady, hesitating course of the tub, which at times seemed inclined to approach the house, and then tacked away towards the corner of the barn-yard wall. A few vigorous calls, how- THE STORY OF KENNETT. 113 ever, appeared to convince it that the direct course was the best, for it set out with a grotesque bobbing trot, which brought it speedily to the kitchen-door. Then Joe and Jake crept out, dripping to the verj crowns of their heads, with their Sunday shirts and jack- ets in a horrible plight The truth, slowly gathered from their mutual accusations, was this : they had resolved to have a boating excursion on Redley Creek, and had ab- stracted the tub that morning when nobody was in the kitchen. Slipping down through the wood, they had launched it in a piece of still water. Joe got in first, and when Jake let go of the tub, it tilted over; then he held it for Jake, who squatted in the centre, and floated success- fully down the stream until Joe pushed him with a pole, and made the tub lose its balance. Jake fell into the mud, and the tub drifted away ; they had chased it nearly to the road before they recovered it. " You bad boys, what shall I do with you ? " cried Mother Fairthorn. " Put on your every-day clothes, and go to the garret Sally, you can ride down to Porter's with the pears ; they won't keep, and I expect Gilbert has no time to come for any, this summer." " I '11 go," said Sally, " but Gilbert don't deserve it The way he snapped me up at Hallowell's and he has n't been here since ! " " Don't be hard on him, Sally ! " said the kindly old woman ; nor was Sally's more than a surface grudge. She had quite a sisterly affection for Gilbert and was rather hurt than angered by what he had said in the fret of a mood which she could not comprehend. The old mare rejoiced in a new bridle, with a head-stall of scarlet morocco, and Sally would have made a stately appearance, but for the pears, which, stowed in the two ends of a grain-bag, and hung over the saddle, would not quite be covered by her riding-skirt She trudged on siowiy, down the lonely road, but had barely crossed the 114 THE STORY OF KENNETT. level below Kennett Square, when there came a quick Bound of hoofs behind her. It was Mark and Martha Deane, who presently dre* rein, one on either side of her. " Don't ride fast, please," Sally begged ; " / can't, foi fear of smashing the pears. Where are you going ? " " To Falconer's," Martha replied ; " Fanny promised to lend me some new patterns ; but I had great trouble in getting Mark to ride with me." " Not, if you will ride along, Sally," Mark rejoined. u We '11 go with you first, and then you '11 come with us What do you say, Martha? " " I '11 answer for Martha ! " cried Sally ; " I am going to Potter's, and it 's directly on your way." " Just the thing," said Mark ; " I have a little business with Gilbert" It was all settled before Martha's vote had been taken, and she accepted the decision without remark. She was glad, for Sally's sake, that they had fallen in with her, for she had shrewdly watched Mark, and found that, little by little, a serious liking for her friend was sending its roots down through the gay indifference of his surface mood. Perhaps she was not altogether calm in spirit at the pros- pect of meeting Gilbert Potter ; but, if so, no sign of the agitation betrayed itself in her face. Gilbert, sitting on the porch, half-hidden behind a mass of blossoming trumpet-flower, was aroused from his Sab- bath reverie by the sound of hoofs. Sally Fairthorn's voice followed, reaching even the ears of Mary Potter, who thereupon issued from the house to greet the unexpected guest Mark had already dismounted, and although Sally protested that she would remain in the saddle, the strong arms held out to her proved too much of a temptation ; it was so charming to put her hands on his shoulders, and to Have his take her by the waist and lift her to the ground so lightly I THE STORY OF KENNETT. 115 While Mark was performing this service, (and evidently with as much deliberation as possible,) Gilbert could do no less than offer his aid to Martha Deane, whose sudden ap- parition he had almost incredulously realized. A bright, absorbing joy kindled his sad, strong features into beauty, and Martha felt her cheeks grow warm, in spite of herself as their eyes met. The hands that touched her waist were firm, but no hands had ever before conveyed to her heart &uch a sense of gentleness and tenderness, and though her own gloved hand rested but a moment on his shoulder, the action seemed to her almost like a caress. " How kind of you all to come ! " said Gilbert, feeling that his voice expressed too much, and his words too little. " The credit of coming is not mine, Gilbert," she an- swered. " We overtook Sally, and gave her our company for the sake of hers, afterwards. But I shah 1 like to take a look at your place ; how pleasant you are making it ! " u You are the first to say so ; I shall always remember that ! " Mary Potter now advanced, with grave yet friendly wel- come, and would have opened her best room tc the guests, but the bowery porch, with its swinging scarlet bloom, haunted by humming-birds and hawk-moths, wooed them eo take their seats in its shade. The noise of a plunging cascade, which restored the idle mill- water to its parted stream, made a mellow, continuous music in the air. The high road was visible at one point, across the meadow, just where it entered the wood ; otherwise, the seclusion of the place was complete. " You could not have found a lovelier home, M Mary," said Martha, terrified to think how near the words u Afrs. Potter" had been to her lips. But she had recov- ered herself so promptly that the rfesitation was not no- ticed. Many people think the house ought to be upon the 116 THE STORY OF KENNETL. road," Mary Potter replied, " but Gilbert and I like it as il is. Yes, I hope it will be a good home, when we can call it our own." u Mother is a little impatient," said Gilbert, u and per- haps I am also. But if we have health, it won't be very long to wait." " That 's a thing soon learned ! " cried Mark. " I mean to be impatient. Why, when I was doing journey-work, I was as careless as the day 's long, and so from hand to mouth did n't trouble me a bit ; but now, I ha' n't been undertaking six months, and it seems that I feel worried if I don't get all the jobs going ! " Martha smiled, well pleased at this confession of the change, which she knew better how to interpret than Mark himself. But Sally, in her innocence, remarked : "Oh Mark ! that is n't right" " I suppose it is n't. But maybe you 've got to wish for more than you get, in order to get what you do. I guess I take things pretty easy, on the whole, for it 's nobody's na- ture to be entirely satisfied. Gilbert, will you be satisfied when your farm 's paid for ? " "No!" answered Gilbert with an emphasis, the sound of which, as soon as uttered, smote him to the heart He had not thought of his mother. She clasped her hands convulsively, and looked at him, but his face was turned away. " Why, Gilbert ! " exclaimed Sally. u I mean," he said, striving to collect his thoughts, " that there is something more than property " but how should he go on ? Could he speak of the family relation, then and there ? Of honor in the community, the respect of his neighbors, without seeming to refer to the brand upon his and his mother's name ? No ; of none of these things. With sudden energy, he turned upon himself, and contin- ued: I shall not feel satisfied until I am cured of my own THE STORY OP KENNETT. 117 Impatience until I can better control my temper, nd gel the weeds and rocks and stumps out of myself as well as out of my farm." " Then you 've got a job ! " Mark laughed. " I think your fields are pretty tolerable clean, what I 've seen of 'em. Nobody can say they 're not well fenced in. Why, compared with you, I 'm an open common, like the Waste- lands, down on Whitely Creek, and everybody's cattle run over me ! " Mark's thoughtlessness was as good as tact. They all laughed heartily at his odd continuation of the simile, and Martha hastened to say : " For my part, I don't think you are quite such an open common, Mark, or Gilbert so well fenced in. But even if you are, a great many things may be hidden in a clearing, and some people are tall enough to look over a high hedge. Betsy Lavender says some men tell all about themselves without saying a word, while others talk till Doomsday and tell nothing." " And tell nothing," gravely repeated Mark, whereat no one could repress a smile, and Sally laughed outright Mary Potter had not mingled much in the society of Kennett, and did not know that this imitation of good Miss Betsy was a very common thing, and had long ceased to mean any harm. It annoyed her, and she felt it her duty to say a word for her friend. " There is not a better or kinder-hearted woman in the county," she said, " than just Betsy Lavender. With all her odd ways of speech, she talks the best of sense and wisdom, and I don't know who I 'd sooner take for a guide in times of trouble." " You could not give Betsy a higher place than she de- serves," Martha answered. " We all esteem her as a dear friend, and as the best helper where help is needed. She has been almost a mother to me." Sally felt rebuked, and exclaimed tearfully, with her 118 THE STORY OF KENNETT. usual impetuous candor, "Now you know I meant nfl harm ; it was all Mark's doing ! " " If you 've anything against me, Sally, I forgive you for it. It is n't in my nature to bear malice," said Mark, with so serious an air, that poor Sally was more bewildered than ever. Gilbert and Martha, however, could not restrain their laughter at the fellow's odd, reckless humor, where- upon Sally, suddenly comprehending the joke, sprang from her seat. Mark leaped from the porch, and darted around the house, followed by Sally with mock-angry cries and brandishings of her riding-whip. The scene was instantly changed to Gilbert's eyes. It was wonderful ! There, on the porch of the home he so soon hoped to call his own, sat his mother, Martha Deane, and himself. The two former had turned towards each other, and were talking pleasantly ; the hum of the hawk- moths, the mellow plunge of the water, and the stir of the soft summer breeze in the leaves, made a sweet accom- paniment to their voices. His brain grew dizzy with yearning to fix that chance companionship, and make it the boundless fortune of his life. Under his habit of re- pression, his love for her had swelled and gathered to such an intensity, that it seemed he must either speak or die. Presently the rollicking couple made their appearance. Sally's foot had caught in her riding-skirt as she ran, throwing her at full length on the sward, and Mark, in picking her up, had possessed himself of the whip. She was not hurt in the least, (her life having been a succes- sion of tears and tumbles,) but Mark's arm found it neces- sary to encircle her waist, and she did not withdraw from the support until they came within sight of the porch. It was now time for the guests to leave, but Mary Pot- ter must first produce h-jr cakes and currant-wine, the latter an old and highly superior article, for there had been, alas ! too few occasions which called for its use. " Gilbert," said Mark, as they moved towards the gate, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 11% "why can't you catch and saddle Roger, and ride with us You have nothing to do ? " " No ; I would like but where are you going ? " "To Falconer's; that is, the girls; but we won't stay for supper I don't fancy quality company." "Nor I," said Gilbert, with a gloomy face. "I have never visited Falconer's, and they might not thank you for introducing me." He looked at Martha, as he spoke. She understood him, and gave him her entire sympathy and pity, yet it was impossible for her to propose giving up the visit, solely for his sake. It was not want of independence, but a maidenly shrinking from the inference of the act, which kept her silent. MarK, however, cut through the embarrassment. u 111 tell you what, Gilbert ! " he exclaimed, " you go and get Roger from the field, while we ride on to Falconer's. If the girls will promise not to be too long about their pat- terns and their gossip, and what not, we can be back to the lane-end by the time you get there ; then we '11 ride up t' other branch o' Redley Creek, to the cross-road, and out by Hallowell's. I want to have a squint at the houses and barns down that way ; nothing t like business, you know ! " Mark thought he was very cunning in thus disposing of Martha during the ride, unconscious of the service he was offering to Gilbert The tatter's eagerness shone from his eyes, but still he looked at Martha, trembling for a sign that should decide his hesitation. Her lids fell before his gaze, and a faint color came into her face, yet she did not turn away. This time it was Sally Fairthorn who spoke. " Five minutes will be enough for us, Mark," she said "I'm not much acquainted with Fanny Falconer. So, Gilbert, hoist Martha into her saddle, and go for Roger." He opened the gate for them, and then climbed over 180 THE STORY OF KENNETi the fence into the hill-field above his house. Having reached the crest, he stopped to watch the three riding abreast, on a smart trot, down the glen. Sally looked back, saw him, and waved her hand ; then Mark and Mar- tha turned, giving no sign, yet to his eyes there seemed a :ertain expectancy in the movement. Roger came from the farthest corner of the field at hit call, and followed him down the hill to the bars, with the obedient attachment of a dog. When he had carefully brushed and then saddled the horse, he went to seek his mother, who was already making preparations for their oftrly supper. " Mother," he said, " I am going to ride a little way.*" She looked at him wistfully and question! ngly, as if she would fain have asked more ; but only said, " Won't you be home to supper, Gilbert ? " " I can't tell, but don't wait a minute, if I 'm not here when it 's ready." He turned quickly, as if fearful of a further question, and the next moment was in the saddle. The trouble in Mary Potter's face increased. Sighing sorely, she followed to the bridge of the barn, and pres- ently descried him, beyond the mill, cantering lightly down the road. Then, lifting her arms, as in a blind appeal for help, she let them fall again, and walked slowlj back to the house. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 121 CHAPTER XII. THE EVENTS OF AX EVENING. AT the first winding of the creek. Gilbert drew rein, with a vague, half-conscious sense of escape. The eye which had followed him thus far was turned away at last. For half a mile the road lay through a lovely solitude of shade and tangled bowery thickets, beside the stream. The air was soft and tempered, and filled the glen like the breath of some utterly peaceful and happy creature ; yet over Gilbert's heart there brooded another atmosphere than this. The su^riness that precedes an emotional crisis weighed heavily upon him. No man, to whom Nature has granted her highe&t gift, that of expression, can understand the pain endured by one of strong feelings, to whom not only this gift has been denied, but who must also wrestle with an inherited re- ticence. It is well that in such cases a kindly law exists, to aid the helpless heart. The least portion of the love which lights the world has been told in words ; it works, attracts, and binds in silence. The eye never knows its own desire, the hand its warmth, the voice its tenderness, nor the heart its unconscious speech through these, and a thousand other vehicles. Every endeavor to hide the special fact betrays ihe feeling from which it sprang. Like all men of limited culture, Gilbert felt his helpless- Dess keenly. His mind, usually clear in its operations, if jomewhat slow and cautious, refused to assist him here ; it lay dead or apathetic in an air surcharged with passion. An anxious expectancy enclosed him with stifling pressure; 122 THE STORY OF KENNETT. he felt that it must be loosened, but knew not how. His craving for words words swift, clear, and hot as lightning, through which his heart might discharge itself haunted him like a furious hunger. The road, rising out of the glen, passed around the brow of a grassy hill, whence he could look across a lateral valley to the Falconer farm-house. Pausing here, he plainly descried a stately " chair " leaning on its thills, in the shade of the weeping- willow, three horses hitched side by side to the lane-fence, and a faint glimmer of color between the mounds of box which almost hid the porch. It was very evident to his mind that the Falconers had other visitors, and that neither Mark nor Sally, (whatever might be Martha Deane's inclination,) would be likely to prolong their stay; so he slowly rode on, past the lane-end, and awaited them at the ford beyond. It was not long though the wood on the western hill already threw its shadow into the glen before the sound of voices and hoofs emerged from the lane. Sally's re- mark reached him first : " They may be nice people enough, for aught I know, but their ways are not my ways, and there 's no use in trying to mix them." " That 's a fact ! " said Mark. " Hallo, here 's Gilbert, ahead of us ! " They rode into the stream together, and let their horses drink from the clear, swift-flowing water. In Mark's and Sally's eyes, Gilbert was as grave and impassive as usual, but Martha Deane was conscious of a strange, warm, subtle power, which seemed to envelop her as she drew near him. Her face glowed with a sweet, unaccustomed flush ; his was pale, and the shadow of his brows lay heavier upon his eyes. Fate was already taking up the invisible, floating filaments of these two existences, and weaving them to- gether. Of course it happened, and of course by the purest acct THE STORY OF KRNNET1 128 dent, that Mark and Sally first reached the opposite' bank and took the narrow wood-road, where the loose, brierj sprays of the thickets brushed them on either side. Sally's hat, and probably her head, would have been carried off by a projecting branch, had not Mark thrown his arm around her neck and forcibly bent her forwards. Then she shrieked and struck at him with her riding-whip, while Mark's laugh woke all the echoes of the woods. " I say, Gilbert ! " he cried, turning back in his saddle, " I '11 hold you responsible for Martha's head ; it 's as much as /can do to keep Sally's on her shoulders." Gilbert looked at his companion, as she rode slowly by his side, through the cool, mottled dusk of the woods. She had drawn the strings of her beaver through a button- hole of her riding-habit, and allowed it to hang upon her back. The motion of the horse gave a gentle, undulating grace to her erect, self-reliant figure, and her lips, slightly parted, breathed maidenly trust and consent She turned her face towards him and smiled, at Mark's words. u The warning is unnecessary," he said. " You will give me no chance to take care of you, Martha." " Is it not better so ? " she asked. He hesitated ; he would have said " No," but finally evaded a direct answer. " I would be glad enough to do you a service even so little as that," were his words, and the tender tone in which they were spoken made itself evident to his own ears. " I don't doubt it, Gilbert," she answered, so kindly and cordially that he was smitten to the heart. Had she fal- tered in her reply, had she blushed and kept silence, his hope would have seized the evidence and rushed to the trial ; but this was the frankness of friendship, not the timidity of love. She could not, then, suspect his passion, and ah, how the risks of its utterance were multiplied ! Meanwhile, the wonderful glamour of her presence that irresistible influence which at once takes hold of bodj 124 THE STORY OF KENNETT. and spirit had entered into every cell of his blood Thought and memory were blurred into nothingness bj this one overmastering sensation. Riding through the lonely woods, out of shade into yellow, level sunshine, in the odors of minty meadows and moist spices of the creek- side, they twain seemed to him to be alone in the world If they loved not each other, why should not the leaves shrivel and fall, the hills split asunder, and the sky rain death upon them? Here she moved at his side he could stretch out his hand and touch her ; his heart sprang towaids her, his arms ached for very yearning to clasp her, his double nature demanded her with the will and entreated for her with the affection ! Under all, felt though not suspected, glowed the vast primal instinct upon which the strength of manhood and of womanhood is based. Sally and Mark, a hundred yards in advance, now thrown into sight and now hidden by the windings of the road, were so pleasantly occupied with each other that they took no heed of the pair behind them. Gilbert was silent; speech was mockery, unless it gave the words which he did not dare to pronounce. His manner was sullen and churlish in Martha's eyes, he suspected ; but so it must be, unless a miracle were sent to aid him. She, riding as quietly, seemed to meditate, apparently unconscious of his presence ; how could he know that she had never before been so vitally conscious of it ? The long rays of sunset withdrew to the tree-tops, and a deeper hush fell upon the land. The road which had mounted along the slope of a stubble-field, now dropped again into a wooded hollow, where a tree, awkwardly felled, lay across it. Roger pricked up his ears and leaped lightly over. Martha's horse followed, taking the log easily, but she reined him up the next moment, uttering a slight ex- clamation, ard stretched out her hand wistfully towardi Gilbert THE STORY OP KENNETT. 12i To seize it and bring Rojer to a stand was the work of an instant. " What is the matter, Martha ? " he cried. M I think the girth is broken," said she. " The saddle is loose, and I was nigh losing my balance. Thank you I can sit steadily now." Gilbert sprang to the ground and hastened to her assist- ance. " Yes, it is broken," he said, " but I can give you mine You had better dismount, though ; see, I will hold the pommel firm with one hand, while I lift you down with the other. Not too fast, I am strong ; place your hands on my shoulders so ! " She bent forward and laid her hands upon his shoulders. Then, as she slid gently down, his right arm crept around her waist, holding her so firmly and securely that she had left the saddle and hung in its support while her feet had not yet touched the earth. Her warm breath was on Gil- bert's forehead ; her bosom swept his breast, and the arm that until then had supported, now swiftly, tenderly, irre- sistibly embraced her. Trembling, thrilling from head to foot, utterly unable to control the mad impulse of the mo- ment, he drew her to his heart and laid his lips to hers. All that he would have said all. and more than all, that words could have expressed was now said, without words. His kiss clung as if it were the last this side of death clung until he felt that Martha feebly strove to be released. The next minute they stood side by side, and Gilbert, by a revulsion equally swift and overpowering, burst into a passion of tears. He turned and leaned his head against Roger's neck. Presently a light touch came upon his shoulder. " Gilbert ! " He faced her then, and saw that her own cheeks were wet " Martha ! " he cried, " unless you love me with love like mine for you, you can never forgive me ! " 126 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Siie came nearer ; she laid her arms around him, and lifted her face to his. Then she said, in a tender, tremu- lous whisper, " Gilbert Gilbert ! I forgive you." A pang of wonderful, -incredulous joy shot through his heart. Exalted by his emotion above the constraints of his past and present life, he arose and stood free and strong Li his full stature as a man. He held her softly and ten- derly embraced, and a purer bliss than the physical delight of her warm, caressing presence shone upon his face as he asked, " Forever, Martha?" Forever." " Knowing what I am ? " " Because I know what you are, Gilbert ! " He bowed his head upon her shoulder, and she felt softer tears tears which came this time without sound or pang upon her neck. It was infinitely touching to see this strong nature so moved, and the best bliss that a true wom- an's heart can feel the knowledge of the boundless bounty which her love brings with it opened upon her consciousness. A swift instinct revealed to her the painful struggles of Gilbert's life, the stern, reticent strength they had developed, the anxiety and the torture of his long-suppressed passion, and the power and purity of that devotion with which his heart had sought and claimed her. She now saw him in his true character, firm as steel, yet gentle as dew, patient and passionate, and purposely cold only to guard the sanctity of his emotions. The twilight deepened in the wood, and Roger, stretch- ing and shaking himself, called the lovers to themselves. Gilbert lifted his head and looked into Martha's sweet, un- shrinking eyes. " May the Lord bless you, as you have blessed me ! " h said, solemnly. " Martha, did you guess this before ? " u Yes," she answered, " I felt that it must be so." THE STOBY OF KEXNETT. 127 " And you did not draw back from me you did not sLun the thought of me ! You were " He paused : was there not blessing enough, or must he curiously question its growth ? Martha, however, understood the thought in his mind. a No, Gilbert ! " she said, " I cannot truly say that I loved JDU at the time when I first discovered your feeling towards me. I had always esteemed and trusted you, and you were much in my mind ; but when I asked myself if I could look upon you as my husband, my heart hesitated with the answer. I did not deserve your affection then, because I could not repay it in the same measure. But, although the knowledge seemed to disturb me, sometimes, yet it was very grateful, and therefore I could not quite make up my mind to discourage you. Indeed, I knew not what was right to do, but I found myself more and more strongly drawn to- wards you ; a power came from you when we met, that touched and yet strengthened me, and then I thought, ' Perhaps I do love him.' To-day, when I first saw your face, I knew that I did. I felt your heart calling to me like one that cries for help, and mine answered. It has been slow to speak, Gilbert, but I know it has spoken truly at last!" He replaced the broken girth, lifted her into the saddle, mounted his own horse, and they resumed their ride along the dusky valley. But how otherwise their companionship now! " Martha," said Gilbert, leaning towards her and touch- ing her softly as he spoke, as if fearful that some power in in his words might drive them apart, " Martha, have you considered what I am called? That the family name I bear is in itself a disgrace ? Have you imagined what it is to love one so dishonored as I am ? " The delicate line of her upper lip grew clear and firm again, temporarily losing its relaxed gentleness. " I have thought of it," she answered, " but not in that way. Git 128 T1IE STORY OF KENNETT. bert, I honored >ou before 1 loved you. I will not say thai this thing makes no difference, for it does a differen;e in the name men give you, a difference in your work through life (for you must deserve more esteem to gain as much a* other men) and a difference in my duty towards you They call me 'independent,' Gilbert, because, though a woman, I dare to think for myself; I know not whether they mean praise by the word, or no ; but I think it would frighten away the thought of love from many men. It has not frightened you ; and you, however you were born, are the faithfullest and best man I know. I love you with my whole heart, and I will be true to you ! " With these words, Martha stretched out her hand. Gil- bert took and held it, bowing his head fondly over it, and inwardly thanking God that the test which his pride had exacted was over at last. He could reward her truth, spare her the willing sacrifice, and he would. " Martha," he said, " if I sometimes doubted whether you could share my disgrace, it was because I had bitter cause to feel how heavy it is to bear. God knows I would have come to you with a clean and honorable name, if I could have been patient to wait longer in uncertainty. But I could not tell how long the time might be, I could not urge my mother, nor even ask her to explain " " No, no, Gilbert ! Spare her ! " Martha interrupted. " I have, Martha, God bless you for the words ! and I will ; it would be the worst wickedness not to be patient, now ! But I have not yet told you " A loud halloo rang through the dusk. " It is Mark's voice," said Martha ; " answer him ! " Gilbert shouted, and a double cry instantly replied. They had reached the cross-road from New-Garden, and Mark and Sally, who had been waiting impatiently for a quarter of an hour, rode to meet them. " Did you lose the road ? " " Whatever kept you so long ? " were the simul- taneous questions.. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 129 * My girth broke in jumping over the tree," Martha an- swered, in her clear, untroubled voice. " I should have been thrown off, but for Gilbert's help. He had to give me his own girth, and so we have ridden slowly, since he has none/' * Take my breast-strap," said Mark. * No," said Gilbert, I can ride Roger bareback, if need be, with the saddle on my shoulder." Something in his voice struck Mark and Sally singularly. It was grave and subdued, yet sweet in its tones as never before ; he had not yet descended from the solemn ex- altation of his recent mood. But the dusk sheltered his face, and its new brightness was visible only to Martha's eyes. Mark and Sally again led the way, and the lovers fol- lowed in silence up the hill, until they struck the Wilming- ton road, below Hallowell's. Here Gilbert felt that it was best to leave them. " Well, you two are cheerful company ! " exclaimed Sally, as they checked their horses. " Martha, how many words has Gilbert spoken to you this evening ? " " As many as I have spoken to him," Martha answered ; " but I will say three more, Good-night, Gilbert ! " " Good-night ! " was all he dared say, in return, but the pressure of his hand burned long upon her fingers. He rode homewards in the starlight, transformed by love and gratitude, proud, tender, strong to encounter any fate. His mother sat in the lonely kitchen, with the New Testa- ment in her lap ; she had tried to read, but her thoughts wandered from the consoling text The table was but half-cleared, and the little old teapot still squatted beside the coals. Gilbert strove hard to assume his ordinary manner, but he could not hide the radiant happiness that shone from his eyes and sat upon his lips. " You Ve not had supper ? " Mary Potter asked. 180 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " No, mother ! but I 'm sorry you kept things waiting ; 1 can do well enough without" u It 's not right to go without your regular meals, Gil- bert Sit up to the table ! " She poured out the tea, and Gilbert ate and drank in silence. His mother said nothing, but he knew that her eye was upon him, and that he was the subject of her thoughts. -Once or twice he detected a wistful, questioning expression, which, in his softened mood, touched him al- most like a reproach. When the table had been cleared and everything put away, she resumed her seat, breathing an unconscious sigh as she dropped her hands into her lap. Gilbert felt that he must now speak, and only hesitated while he con- sidered how he could best do so, without touching hei secret and mysterious trouble. " Mother ! " he said at last " I have something to teifl you." " Ay, Gilbert ? " " Maybe it '11 seem good news to you ; but maybe not. I have asked Martha Deane to be my wife ! " He paused, and looked at her. She clasped her hands, leaned forward, and fixed her dark, mournful eyes intently upon his face. "I have been drawn towards her for a long time," Gilbert continued. " It has been a great trouble to me, because she is so, pretty, and withal so proud in the way a girl should be, I liked her pride, even while it made me afraid, and they say she is rich also. It might seem like looking too high, mother, but I couldn't help it." " There 's no woman too high for you, Gilbert ! " Mary Potter exclaimed. Then she went on, in a hurried, un- steady voice : " It is n't that I mistrusted it would come so, some day, but I hoped only for your good, my boy, only for that I hoped not so soon. You 're still young THE STORY OF KENNETT. 18) not twenty-five, and there 's debt on the farm ; could n't you ha' waited a little, Gilbert?" " I have waited, mother," he said, slightly turning away his head, that he might not see the tender reproach in her face, which her question seemed to imply. " I did wait and for that reason. I wanted first to be independent, it least ; and I doubt that I would have spoken so soon, but there were others after Martha, and that put the thought of losing her into my head. It seemed like a matter of life or death. Alfred Barton tried to keep company with her he did n't deny it to my face ; the people talked of it Folks always say more than they know, to be sure, bu^ then, the chances were so much against me, mother ! I was nigh crazy, sometimes. I tried my best and bravest to be patient, but to-day we were riding alone, Mark am. Sally gone ahead, and and then it came from my mouth, I don't know how ; I did n't expect it. But 1 should n't have doubted Martha ; she let me speak ; she answered me I can't tell you her words, mother, though I '11 never forget one single one of 'em to my dying daj She gave me her hand and said she would be true to me forever." Gilbert waited, as if his mother might here speak, bu she remained silent u Do you understand, mother ? " he continued. " She pledged herself to me she will be my wife. And I asked her you won't be hurt, for I felt it to be my dutj whether she knew how disgraced I was in the eyes of the people, whether my name would not be a shame foj her to bear ? She could n't know what we know : she took me even with the shame, and she looked prouder than ever when she stood by me in the thought of it ! She would despise me, now, if I should offer to give her up on account of it, but she may know as much as I do, mother ? She deserves it" There was no answer. Gilbert looked up 132 TTTF, STORY OF KENNETT. Mary Potter sat perfectly still in her high rocking-chair. Her arms hung passively at her sides, and her head leaned back and was turned to one side, as if she were utterly ex- hausted. But in the pale face, the closed eyes, and the blue shade about the parted lips, he saw that she was un conscious of his words. She had fainted. THF. STORY OF KENltETT. 1JJ CHAPTER TWO OLD MEN. SHORTLY after Martha Deane left home for her event-fill rid to Falconer's, the Doctor also mounted his horse and rode out of the village in the opposite direction. Two days before, he had been summoned to bleed " Old-man Barton," on account of a troublesome buzzing in the head, and, although not bidden to make a second professional visit, there was sufficient occasion for him to call upon his patient in the capacity of a neighbor. Dr. Deane never made a step outside the usual routine of his business without a special and carefully considered reason. Various causes combined to inspire his move- ment in the present instance. The neighborhood was healthy ; the village was so nearly deserted that no curious observers lounged upon the tavern-porch, or sat upon the horse-block at the corner-store; and Mr. Alfred Barton had been seen riding towards Avondale. There would have been safety in a much more unusual proceeding ; this, therefore, might be undertaken in that secure, easy frame of mind which the Doctor both cultivated and recom- mended to the little world around him. The Barton farm-house was not often molested by the presence of guests, and he found it as quiet and lifeless as an uninhabited island of the sea. Leaving his horse hitched in the shade of the corn-crib, he first came upon Giles, stretched out under the holly-bush, and fast asleep, with his head upon his jacket. The door and window of the family-room were open, and Dr. Deane, walking" softlj IS4 THE STORY OF KENNETT. upon the thick grass, saw that Old-man Barton was in nil accustomed seat His daughter Ann was not visible ; % she was at that moment occupied in taking out of the drawers of her queer old bureau, in her narrow bedroom up-stairs, various bits of lace and ribbon, done up in lavender, and perchance (for we must not be too curious) a broken six- pence or a lock of dead hair. The old man's back was towards the window, but the Doctor could hear that papers were rustling and crackling in his trembling hands, and could see that an old casket of very solid oak, bound with iron, stood on the table at his elbow. Thereupon he stealthily retraced his steps to the gate, shut it with a sharp snap, cleared his throat, and mounted the porch with slow, loud, deliberate steps. When he reached the open door, he knocked upon the jamb without looking into the room. There was a jerk- ing, dragging sound for a moment, and then the old man's snarl was heard : "Who 's there?" Dr. Deane entered, smiling, and redolent of sweet-mar- joram. " Well, , Friend Barton," he said, " let 's have a look at thee now ! " Thereupon he took a chair, placed it in front of the old man, and sat down upon it, with his legs spread wide apart, and his ivory- headed cane (which he also used as a riding- whip) bolt upright between them. He was very careful not to seem to see that a short quilt, which the old man usually wore over his knees, now lay in a somewhat angu- lar heap upon the table. " Better, I should say, yes, decidedly better," he re- marked, nodding his head gravely. " I had nothing to do this afternoon, the neighborhood is very healthy, and thought I would ride down and see how thee 's getting on. Only a friendly visit, thee knows." The old man had laid one shaking arm and crooked band opon the edge of the quilt, while with the other hf THE STORY OP KENNETT. 13d grasped his hickory staff. His face had a strange, ashj color, through which the dark, corded veins on his temples showed with singular distinctness. But his eye was unusu- ally bright and keen, and its cunning, suspicious expression did not escape the Doctor's notice. " A friendly visit ay ! " he growled " not like Doc- tors' visits generally, eh ? Better ? of course I 'm bet ter. It 's no harm to tap one of a full-blooded breed. At our age, Doctor, a little blood goes a great way." " No doubt, no doubt ! " the Doctor assented. " Espe- cially in thy case. I often speak of thy wonderful constitu- tion." " Neighborly, you say, Doctor only neighborly ? " asked the old man. The Doctor smiled, nodded, and seemed to exhale a more powerful herbaceous odor. " Mayhap, then, you '11 take a bit of a dram ? a thim- ble-full won't come amiss. You know the shelf where it 'a kep' reach to, and help yourself, and then help me to a drop." Dr. Deane rose and took down the square black bottle and the diminutive wine-glass beside it Half-filling the latter, a thimble-full in verity, he drank it in two or three delicate little sips, puckering his large under-lip to receive them. u It 's right to have the best, Friend Barton," he said, a there 's more life in it ! " as he filled the glass to the brim and held it to *he slit in the old man's face. The latter eagerly drew off the top fulness, and then seized the glass in his shaky hand. " Can help myself," he croaked " don't need waitin' on ; not so bad as that ! " His color presently grew, and his neck assumed a partial steadiness. " What news, what news ? " he asked. " You gather up a plenty in your goin's-around. It 's little I get, except the bones, after they 've been gnawed over by the whole neighborhood." There is not much now, I believe," Dr. Deane observed 136 THE STORf OF 1 KENNETT. * Jacob and Leah Gilpin have another boy, but thee hardly knows them, I think. William Byerly died last week in Birmingham ; thee 's heard of him, he had a wonderful gift of preaching. They say Maryland cattle will be cheap, this fall : does Alfred intend to fatten many ? I saw him riding towards New-Garden." " I guess he will," the old man answered, " must make Bomethin' out o' the farm. That pastur'-bottom ought to bring more than it does." " Alfred does n't look to want for much," the Doctor con- tinued. " It 's a fine farm he has." "Me, I say ! " old Barton exclaimed, bringing down the end of his stick upon the floor. " The farm 's mine ! " " But it 's the same thing, is n't it ? " asked Dr. Deane, in bis cheeriest voice and with his pleasantest smile. The old man looked at him for a moment, gave an inco- herent grunt, the meaning of which the Doctor found it impossible to decipher, and presently, with a cunning leer, said. "Is all your property the same thing as your daugh- ter's?" " Well well," replied the Doctor, softly rubbing his hands, " I should hope so yes, I should hope so." " Besides what she has in her own right ? " " Oh, thee knows that will be hers without my disposal. What I should do for her would be apart from that. I am not likely, at my time of life, to marry again but we are led by the Spirit, thee knows ; we cannot say, I will do thus and so, and these and such things shall happeu, and those and such other shall not" " Ay, that 's my rule, too, Doctor," said the old man, after a pause, during which he had intently watched his visitor, from under his wrinkled eyelids. " I thought/' the Doctor resumed, " thee was pretty safe tgainst another marriage, at any rate, and thee had per- haps made up thy mind about providing for thy children. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 187 It *s better for us old men to have our houses set in order that we may spare ourselves worry and anxiety of mind Elisha is already established in his own independence, and I suppose Ann will give thee no particular trouble ; but if Alfred, now, should take a notion to marry, he could n't, thee sees, be expected to commit himself without having some idea of what thee intends to do for him." Dr. Deane, having at last taken up his position and un- covered his front of attack, waited for the next movement of his adversary. He was even aware of a slight profes- sional curiosity to know how far the old man's keen, shrewd, wary faculties had survived the wreck of his body. The latter nodded his head, and pressed the top of his hickory stick against his gums several times, before he an- swered. He enjoyed the encounter, though not so sure of its issue as he would have been ten years earlier. " I 'd do the fair thing, Doctor ! " he finally exclaimed ; "whatever it might be, it 'd be fair. Come, is n't that enough ? " " In a general sense, it is. But we are talking now as neighbors. We are both old men, Friend Barton, and I think we know how to keep our own counsel. Let us sup- pose a case just to illustrate the matter, thee under- stands. Let us say that Friend Paxson a widower, thee knows had a daughter Mary, who had well, a nice little penny in her own right, and that thy son Alfred desired her in marriage. Friend Paxson, as a prudent father, knowing his daughter's portion, both what it is and what it will be, he would naturally wish, in Mary's inter- est, to know that Alfred would not be dependent on her means, but that the children they might have would inherit equally from both. Now, it strikes me that Friend Paxson would only be right in asking thee what thee wouid do for thy son nay, that, to be safe, he would want to see some evidence that would hold in law. Things are so uncertain, and a wise man guardeth his own household." 188 THfi SfOfcr Of KENNETt The old man laughed until his watery eyes twinkled u Friend Paxson is a mighty close and cautious one to deaJ with," he said. ' Mayhap he 'd like to manage to have ne bound, and himself go free ? " " Thee 's mistaken, indeed ! " Dr. Deane protested. " He's not that kind of a man. He only means to do what 's right, and to ask the same security from thee, which thee I 'm sure of it, Friend Barton ! would expect him to fur- nish." The old man began to find this illustration uncomfort- able ; it was altogether one - sided. Dr. Deane could shelter himself behind Friend Paxson and the imaginary daughter, but the applications came personally home to him. His old patience had been weakened by his isola- tion from the world, and his habits of arbitrary rule. He knew, moreover, the probable amount of Martha's fortune, and could make a shrewd guess at the Doctor's circum- stances ; but if the settlements were to be equal, each must give his share its highest valuation in order to secure more from the other. It was a difficult game, because these men viewed it in the light of a business transaction, and each considered that any advantage over the other would be equivalent to a pecuniary gain on his own part. " No use beatin' about the bush, Doctor," the old man suddenly said. " You don't care for Paxson's daughter, that never was ; why not put your Martha in her place. She has a good penny, I hear five thousand, some say." " Ten, every cent of it ! " exclaimed Dr. Deane, very nearly thrown off his guard. " That is, she will have it, at twenty- five ; and sooner, if she marries with my consent But why does thee wish particularly to speak of her ? " " For the same reason you talk about Alfred. He has n't been about your house lately, I s'pose, hey ? " The Doctor smiled, dropping his eyelids in a very saga* cious way. " He does seem drawn a ittle our way, I mus 4 THE STORY OF KENNETT. 189 confess to thee," he said, "but we can't always tell how much is meant Perhaps thee knows his mind better than I do?" " Mayhap I do know what it will be, if / choose But I don't begrudge sayin' that he likes your girl, and I should n't wonder if he 'd showed it." " Then thee sees, Friend Barton," Dr. Deane continued, " that the case is precisely like the one I supposed ; and what I would consider right for Friend Paxson, would even be right for myself. I 've no doubt thee could do more for Alfred than I can do for Martha, and without wrong to thy other children, Elisha, as I said, being independent, and Ann not requiring a great deal, and the two properties joined together would be a credit to us, and to the neighborhood. Only, thee knows, there must be some legal assurance beforehand. There is noth- ing certain, even thy mind is liable to change, ah, the mind of man is an unstable thing ! " The Doctor delivered these words in his most impres- sive manner, uplifting both eyes and hands. The old man, however, seemed to pay but little atten- tion to it Turning his head on one side, he said, in a quick, sharp voice : " Time enough for that when we come to it How 's the girl inclined ? Is the money hers, any- how, at twenty-five, how old now ? Sure to be a couple, hey ? settle that first ! " Dr. Deane crossed his legs carefully, so as not to crease the cloth too much, laid his cane upon them, and leaned back a little in his chair. " Of course I 've not spoken to Martha," he presently said ; " I can only say that she has n't set her mind upon anybody else, and that is the main thing. She has followed my will in all, except as to joining the Friends, and there I felt that I could n't rightly command, where the Spirit had not spoken. Yes, the money will be hers at twenty-five, she is twenty-one now, but I hardly think it necessary to take that into 140 THE STORY OF KENNETT. consideration. If thee can answer for Alfred, I think 1 can answer for her." " The boy 's close about his money," broke in the old man, with a sly, husky chuckle. " What he has, Doctor^ you understand, goes toward balancin' what she has, afore you come onto me, at all. Yes, yes, I know what I 'm about. A good deal, off and on, has been got out o' this farm, and it has n't all gone into my pockets. I 've a trifle put out, but you can't expect me Lo strip myself naked, in my old days. But I '11 do what 's fair I '11 do what 's fair!" " There 's only this," the Doctor added, meditatively, " and I want thee to understand, since we Ve, somehow or other, come to mention the matter, that we 'd better have another talk, after we 've had more time to think of it. Thee can make up thy mind, and let me know about what thee '11 do ; and I the same. Thee has a starting- point on my side, knowing the amount of Martha's fortune that, of course, thee must come up to first, and then we '11 see about the rest ! " Old-man Barton felt that he was here brought up to the rack. He recognized Dr. Deane's advantage, and could only evade it by accepting his proposition for delay. True, he had already gone over the subject, in his lonely, restless broodings beside the window, but this encounter had fresh- ened and resuscitated many points. He knew that the business would be finally arranged, but nothing would have induced him to hasten it. There was a great luxury in this preliminary skirmishing. " Well, well ! " said he, " we need n't hurry. You 're right there, Doctor. I s'pose you won't do anything to keep the young ones apart ? " " I think I 've shown my own wishes very plainly, Friend Barton. It is necessary that Alfred should speak for him- self, though, and after all we 've said, perhaps it might be well if thee should give him a hint. Thee must re- THE STCRY OF RENNETT. 141 member that he has never yet mentioned the subject to me." Dr. Deane thereupon arose, smoothed his garments, and shook out. not only sweet marjoram, but lavender, cloves, and calamus. Plis broad-brimmed drab hat had never left his head during the interview. There were steps on the creaking floor overhead, and the Doctor perceived that the private conference must now close. It was nearly a drawn game, so far ; but the chance of advantage was on his side. " Suppose I look at thy arm, in a neighborly way, of course," he said, approaching the old man's chair. " Never mind took the bean off this mornin' old blood, you know, but lively yet Gad, Doctor ! I 've not felt so brisk for a year." His eyes twinkled so, under their puffy lids, the flabby folds in which his mouth ter- minated worked so curiously, like those of a bellows, where they run together towards the nozzle, and the two movable fingers on each hand opened and shut with such a menacing, clutching motion, that for one moment the Doctor felt a chill, uncanny creep run over his nerves. " Brandy ! " the old man commanded. " I 've not talked so much at once't for months. You might take a little more, maybe. No ? well, you hardly need it Good brandy 's powerful dear, these times." Dr. Deane had too much tact to accept the grudging invitation. After the old man had drunk, he carefully replaced the bottle and glass on their accustomed shelf, and disposed himself to leave. On the whole, he was well satisfied with the afternoon's work, not doubting but that he had acted the part of a tender and most considerate parent towards his daughter. Before they met, she also had disposed of her future, but in a very different way. Miss Ann descended the stairs in time to greet the Doo 142 THE STORY OF KENNETT. tflr before Iris departure. She would have gladly retained him to tea, as a little relief to the loneliness and weariness of the clay ; but she never dared to give an invitation ex- cept when it seconded her father's, which, in the present case, was wanting. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 14f CHAPTER XIV. DOUBTS AND SURMISES. GILBERT'S voice, sharpened by his sudden and mortal fear, recalled Mary Potter to consciousness. After she had drunk of the cup of water which he brought, she looked slowly and wearily around the kitchen, as if some instinct taught her to fix her thoughts on the signs and appliances of her every-day life, rather than allow them to return tc the pang which had overpowered her. Little by little she recovered her calmness and apportion of her strength, and at last, noticing her son's anxious face, she spoke. " 1 have frightened you, Gilbert ; but there is no occa- sion for it. I was n't rightly prepared for what ytm had to say and and but, please, don't let us talk any more about it to-night. Give me a little time to think if 1 can think. I 'm afraid it 's but a sad home I 'm making for you, and sure it 's a sad load I 've put upon you, my poor boy ! But oh, try, Gilbert, try to be patient a little while longer, it can't be for long, for I begin to sec now that I 've worked out my fault, and that the Lord in Ilcaven owes me justice ! " She clenched her hands wildly, and rose to her feet LTer steps tottered, and he sprang to her support. " Mother," he said, " let me help you to your room. I '11 not speak of this again ; I would n't have spoken to-night, if I had mistrusted that it could give you trouble. Have no fear that I can ever be impatient again ; patience is easy to me now ! " He spoke kindly and cheerfully, registering a vow in hif 144 THE SfORT OF KENNETT. heart that his lips should henceforth be closed upon tna painful theme, until his mother's release (whatever it was and whenever it might come) should open them. But competent as he felt in that moment to bear the delay cheerfully, and determined as he was to cast no addi- tional weight on his mother's heart, it was not so easy to compose his thoughts, as he lay in the dusky, starlit bed room up-stairs. The events of the day, and their recent con- sequences, had moved his strong nature to its very foun- dations. A chaos of joy, wonder, doubt, and dread surged through him. Over and over he recalled the sweet pres- sure of Martha Deane's lip, the warm curve of her bosom, the dainty, delicate firmness of her hand. Was this could this possession really be his ? In his mother's mys- terious secret there lay an element of terror. He could not guess why the revelation of his fortunate love should agitate her so fearfully, unless and the suspicion gave him a shock her history were in some way involved with that of Martha Deane. This thought haunted and perplexed him, continually returning to disturb the memory of those holy moments in the twilight dell, and to ruffle the bright current of joy which seemed to gather up and sweep away with it all the forces of his life. Any fate but to lose her, he said to himself; let the shadow fall anywhere, except between them! There would be other troubles, he foresaw, the opposition of her father; the rage and hostility of Alfred Barton ; possibly, when the story became known (as it must be in the end), the ill-will or aversion of the neigh- borhood. Against all these definite and positive evils, he felt strong and tolerably courageous, but the Something which evidently menaced him through his mother made him shrink with a sense of cowardice. Hand in hand with this dread he went into the world of sleep. He stood upon the summit of the hill behind Fal- coner's farm-house, and saw Martha beckoning to him from THE STORY OF KENNETT. 145 ifct hill on the other side of the valley. They stretched and clasped hands through the intervening space ; the hills sank away, and they found themselves suddenly below, on the banks of the creek. He threw his arms around her, but she drew back, and then he saw that it was Betsy Lav- ender, who said: "I am your father did you never guess it before ? " Down the road came Dr. Deane and his mother, walking arm in arm ; their eyes were fixed on him, but they did not speak. Then he heard Martha's voice, saying : " Gilbert, why did you tell Alfred Barton ? Nobody must know that I am engaged to both of you." Betsy Lavender said : " He can only marry with my con- sent Mary Potter has nothing to do with it" Martha then came towards him smiling, and said : " I will not send back your saddle-girth see, I am wearing it as a belt ! " He took hold of the buckle and drew her nearer; she began to weep, and they were suddenly standing side by side, in a dark room, before his dead mother, in her coffin. This dream, absurd and incoherent as it was, made a strange impression upon Gilbert's mind. He was not su- perstitious, but in spite of himself the idea became rooted in his thoughts that the truth of his own parentage affected, in some way, some member of the Deane family. He taxed his memory in vain for words or incidents which might help him to solve this doubt Something told him that his obligation to his mother involved the understand- ing that he would not even attempt to discover her secret; but he could not prevent his thoughts from wandering arouud it, and making blind guesses as to the vulnerable point Among these guesses came one which caused him to shudder ; he called it impossible, incredible, and resolutely barred it from his mind. But with all his resolution, it only seemed to wait at a little distance, as if constantly seeking an opportunity to return. What if Dr. Deane were his own father ? In that case Martha would be his ID lift THE STORY OF KENNETT. half-sister, and the stain of illegitimacy would rest on her, not on him ! There was ruin and despair in the suppo- sition; out, on the other hand, he asked himself why should the fact of his love throw his mother into a swoon ? Among the healthy, strong-nerved people of Kennett such a thing as a swoon was of the rarest occurrence, and it suggested some terrible cause to Gilbert's mind. It was sometime* hard for him to preserve his predetermined patient, cheer ful demeanor in his mother's presence, but he tried bravely, and succeeded. Although the harvest was weil over, there was still much work to do on the farm, in order that the month of October might be appropriated to hauling, the last time, Gilbert hoped, that he should be obliged to resort to this source of profit. Though the price of grain was sure to decline, on account of the extraordinary harvest, the quantity would make up for this deficiency. So far, his estimates had been verified. A good portion of the money was already on hand, and his coveted freedom from debt in the follow- ing spring became now tolerably secure. His course, in this respect, was in strict accordance with the cautious, plodding, conscientious habits of the community in which he lived. They were satisfied to advance steadily and slowly, never establishing a new mark until the old one had been reached. Gilbert was impatient to see Martha again, not so much for the delight of love, as from a sense of the duty which he owed to her. His mother had not answered his ques- tion, possibly not even heard it, and he did not dare to approach her with it again. But so much as he knew might be revealed to the wife of his heart ; of that he was sure. If she could but share his confidence in his mother's words, and be equally patient to await the solution, it would give their relation a new sweetness, an added sanctity and trust He made an errand to Fairthorn's at the close of the THE STORY OF KENNETT. 147 week, hoping that chance might befriend him, but almost determined, in any case, to force an interview. The dread he had trampled down still hung around him, and it seemed that Martha's presence might dissipate it Something, at least, he might learn concerning Dr. Deane's family, and here his thoughts at once reverted to Miss Betsy Laven- der In her he had the true friend, the close mouth, the brain crammed with family intelligence ! The Fairthorns were glad to see their "boy," as the old woman still called him. Joe and Jake threw their brown legs over the barn-yard fence and clamored for a ride upon Roger. " Only along the level, t'other side o* the big hill, Gilbert ! " said Joe, whereupon the two boys punched each other in the sides and nearly smothered with wicked laugh- * o ter. Gilbert understood them ; he shook his head, and said : " You rascals, I think I see you doing that again ! " But he turned away his face, to conceal a smile at the recollection. It was, truly, a wicked trick. The boys had been in the habit of taking the farm-horses out of the field aud riding them up and down the Union ville road. It \vas their habit, as soon as they had climbed " the big hill," to use stick and voice with great energy, force the animals into a gallop, and so dash along the level. Very soon, the horses knew what was expected of them, and whenever they came abreast of the great chestnut-tree on the top of the hill, they would start off as if possessed. If any busi- ness called Farmer Fairthorn to the Street Road, or up Marlborough way, Joe and Jake, dancing with delight, would dart around the barn, gain the wooded hollow, climb the bis hill behind the lime-kiln, and hide themselves O under the hedge, at the commencement of the level road. Here they could watch their father, as his benign, unsus- pecting face came in sight, mounting the hill, either upon the gray mare, Bonnie, or the brown gelding, Peter. Aa the horse nearcd the chestnut-tree, they fairly shook Vitb 148 THE STORY OF KENNETT. eager expectancy then came the start, the astonishment of the old man, his frantic " Whoa, there, whoa ! " his hat soaring off on the wind, his short, stout body bouncing in the saddle, as, half-unseated,. he clung with one hand to the mane and the other to the bridle ! while the wicked boys, after breathlessly watching him out of sight, rolled over and over on the grass, shrieking and yelling in a perfect luxury of fun. Then they knew that a test would come, and prepared themselves to meet it When, at dinner, Farmer Fair- thorn turned to his wife and said : " Mammy," (so he al- ways addressed her) " I don't know what 's the mattei with Bonnie ; why, she came nigh runnin' off with me ! " Joe ; being the oldest and boldest, would look up in well-af- fected surprise, and ask, " Why, how, Daddy ? " while Jake would bend down his head and whimper, " Somethin' 's got into my eye." Yet the boys were very good-hearted fellows, at bottom, and we are sorry that we must chron- icle so many things to their discredit Sally Fairthorn met Gilbert in her usual impetuous way. She was glad to see him, but she could not help saying : " Well, have you got your tongue yet, Gilbert ? Why, you 're growing to be as queer as Dick's hat-band ! I don't know any more where to find you, or how to place you ; whatever is the matter ? " "Nothing, Sally," he answered, with something of his old playfulness, " nothing except that the pears were very good. How 's Mark ? " " Mark ! " she exclaimed with a very well assumed sneer, u As if I kept an account of Mark's comings and goings ! " But she could not prevent an extra color from rising into her face. "I wish you did, Sally," Gilbert gravely remarked " Mark is a fine fellow, and one of* my best friends, and he 'd be all the better, if a smart, sensible girl like your- ielf would care a little for him," THE STORY OF KENNETT. 149 There was no answer to this, and Sally, with a hast} < I '11 tell mother you Ye here ! " darted into the house. Gilbert was careful not to ask many questions during his visit ; but Sally's rattling tongue supplied him with all he wot 1 Id have been likely to learn, in any case. She had found Martha at home the day before, and had talked about him, Gilbert. Martha had n't noticed anything "queer" in his manner, whereupon she, Sally, had said that Martha was growing " queer " too ; then Martha remarked that but here Sally found that she had been talking altogether too fast, so she bit her tongue and blushed a little. The most important piece of news, however, was that Miss Lav- ender was then staying at Dr. Deane's. On his way to the village, Gilbert chose the readiest and simplest way of accomplishing his purpose. lie would call on Betsy Lavender, and ask her to arrange her time so that she could visit his mother during his approaching ab- sence from home. Leaving his horse at the hitching-post in front of the store, he walked boldly across the road and knocked at Dr. Deane's door. The Doctor was absent. Martha and Miss Lavender were in the sitting-room, and a keen, sweet throb in his blood responded to the voice that bade him $nter. " Gilbert Potter, 1 '11 be snaked ! " exclaimed Miss Lav- ender, jumping up with a start that overturned her foot- stool. " Well, Gilbert ! " and Well, Martha ! " were the only words *he lovers exchanged, on meeting, but their hands were quick to clasp and loath to loose. Martha Deane was too clear-headed to be often surprised by an impulse of the heal, but when the latter experience came to her, she never thought of doubting its justness. She had not been fully, vitally aware of her love for Gilbert until the day when he declared it, and now, in memory, the two circum- stances seemed to make but one fact The warmth, the beauty, the spiritual expansion which accompany love had l&O THE STORY OF KENNETT. since then dawned upon her nature in their true signifi cance. Proudly and cautiously as she would have guarded her secret from an intrusive eye, just as frank, tender, and brave was she to reveal every emotion of her heart to her lover. She was thoroughly penetrated with the conviction of his truth, of the integral nobility of his manhood ; and these, she felt, were the qualities her heart had uncon- sciously craved. Her mind was made up inflexibly ; it re- joiced in his companionship, it trusted in his fidelity, and if she considered conventional difficulties, it was only to estimate how they could most speedily be overthrown. Martha Deane was in advance of her age, or, at least, ol the community in which she lived. They could only exchange common-places, of course, in Miss Lavender's presence ; and perhaps they were not aware of the gentle, affectionate way in which they spoke of the weather and similar topics. Miss Lavender was ; her eyes opened widely, then nearly closed with an expres- sion of superhuman wisdom ; she looked out of the win- dow and nodded to the lilac-bush, then exclaiming in des- perate awkwardness : " Goodness me, I must have a bit o' sage ! " made for the garden, with long strides. Gilbert was too innocent to suspect the artifice not so Martha. But while she would have foiled the inference of any other woman, she accepted Betsy's without the least embarrassment, and took Gilbert's hand again in her own before the door had fairly closed. " O Martha ! " he cried, " if I could but see yougoftener but for a minute, every day ! But there I won't be impatient. I 've thought of you ever since, and I ask my- self, the first thing when I wake, morning after morning, is it really true ? " " And I say to myself, every morning, it is true," she an- swered. Her lovely blue eyes smiled upon him with a blissful consent, so gentle and so perfect, tha'; he would fain have stood thus and spoken no word more. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 151 fc Martha," he said, returning to the thought of his duty, "I have something to say. Yon can hear it now. My mother declares that I am her lawful son, born in wedlock she gave me her solemn word but more than that she will not allow me to ask, saying she 's bound for a time, and something, I don't know what, must happen before she can set herself right in the eyes of the world. I believe her, Martha, and I want that you should believe her, for her sake and for mine. I can't make things clear to you, now, because they 're not clear to myself; only, what she has declared is and must be true ! I am not base-born, and it '11 be made manifest, I 'm sure ; the Lord will open her mouth in his own good time and until then, we must wait ! Will you wait with me ? " He spoke earnestly and hurriedly, and his commumca tion was so unexpected that she scarcely comprehended its full import But for his sake, she dared not hesitate to answer. " Can you ask it, Gilbert ? Whatever your mother de- clares to you, must be true ; yet I scarcely understand it" " Nor can I ! I 've wearied my brains, trying to guess why she can't speak, and what it is that '11 give her the lib- erty at last I dare n't ask her more she fainted dead away, the last time." " Strange things sometimes happen in this world," said Martha, with a grave tenderness, laying her hand upon his arm, " and this seems to be one of the strangest I am glad you have told me, Gilbert, it will make so much difference to you ! " u So it don't take you from me, Martha," he groaned, in a return of his terrible dread. " Only Death can do that and then but for a little while." Here Miss Betsy Lavender made her appearance, but without the sage. " How far a body can see, Martha," she exclaimed, "once 152 THE STORY v.iF KENNETT. the big gum-tree 's been cut down. It lays open the sigat o' the road across the creek, and I seen your father ridin' down the hill, as plain as could be ! " " Betsy," said Gilbert, " I wanted to ask you about com- ing down our way." " Our way. Did you ? I see your horse hitched over at the store. I 've an errand, sewin'-thread and pearl but- tons, and so I '11 git my bonnet and you can tell me on the way." The lovers said farewell, and Betsy Lavender accompa- nied Gilbert, proposing to walk a little way with him and get the articles on her return. " Gilbert Potter," she said, when they were out of sight and ear-shot of the village, " I want you to know that I Ve got eyes in my head. 7 'm a safe body, as you can see, though it may n't seem the proper thing in me to say it, but all other folks is n't, so look out ! " " Betsy ! " he exclaimed, " you seem to know everything about everybody at least, you know what I am, perhaps better than I do myself; now suppose I grant you're right, what do you think of it ? " " Think of it ? Go 'long ! you know what you want me to say, that there never was such a pair o' lovyers under the firmament! Let my deeds prove what I think, say I for here 's a case where deeds is wanted ! " " You can help me, Betsy you can help me now ! Do you know can you guess who was my father ? " " Good Lord ! " was her surprised exclamation " No, I don't, and that 's the fact" " "Who was Martha Deane's mother ? " " A Blake Naomi, one o the Birmingham Blakes, and a nice woman she was, too. I was at her weddin', and I helped nuss her when Martha was born." " Had Dr. Deane been married before ? " "Married before? Well no!" Here Miss Betsy seemed to be suddenly put upon her guard. " Not to thai THE STORY OF KENNETT. 158 extent, I should say . However, it 's neither here nor there Good lack, boy ! " she cried, noticing a deadly paleness on Gilbert's face " a-h-h-h, I begin to understand now. Look here, Gilbert ! Git that nonsense out o' y'r head, jist as soon as you can. There 's enough o' trouble ahead, without borrowin' any more out o' y'r wanderin' wits. I don't deny but what I was holdin' back somethin', but it 's another thing as ever was. I '11 speak you clear o' your misdoubtin's, if that 's y'r present bother. You don't feel quite as much like a live corpse, now, I reckon, hey ?" " O, Betsy ! " he said, " if you knew how I have been perplexed, you would n't wonder at my fancies ! " " I can fancy all that, my boy," she gently answered, " and I '11 tell you another thing, Gilbert your mother has a heavy secret on her mind, and I rather guess it con- cerns your father. No don't look so eager-like I don't know it All I do know is that you were born in Phildel- phy." " In Philadelphia ! I never heard that" " Well it 's neither here nor there. I 've had my hands too full to spy out other people's affairs, but many a thing has come to me in a nateral way, or half-unbe- known. You can't do better than leave all sich wild guesses and misdoubtin's to me, that 's better able to handle 'em. Not that I 'm a-goin' to preach and declare anything until I know the rights of it whatever and wherever. Well, as I was sayin' for there 's Beulah Green comin' up the road, and you must git your usual face onto you, though Goodness knows, mine 's so crooked, I 've often said nothin' short o' Death 11 ever make much change in it but riever mind, I '11 go down a few days to your mother, when you 're off, though I don't promise to do much, except, maybe, cheer her up a bit ; but we '11 see, and so remember me to her, and good-bye ! " With these words and a sharp, bony wring of his hand, Miss Betsy strode rapidly back to the village. It did not 154 THE STORY OF KENNETT. escape Gilbert's eye that, strongly as she had pronounced against his secret fear, the detection of it had agitated her. She had spoken hurriedly, and hastened away as if desir- ing to avoid further questions. He could not banish the suspicion that she knew something which might affect his fortune ; but she had not forbidden his love for Martha she had promised to help him, and that was a great conso- lation. His cheerfulness, thenceforth, was not assumed, and he rejoiced to see a very faint, shadowy reflection of it, at times, in his mother's face. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 155 CHAPTER XV. ALFRED BARTON BETWEEN TWO FIRES. FOR some days after Dr. Deane's visit, Old-man Barton was a continual source of astonishment to his son Alfred and his daughter Ann. The signs of gradual decay which one of them, at least, had watched with the keenest inter- est, had suddenly disappeared ; he was brighter, sharper, more talkative than at any time within the previous five years. The almost worn-out machinery of his life seemed to have been mysteriously repaired, whether by Dr. Deane's tinkering, or by one of those freaks of Nature which some- times bring new teeth and hair to an aged head, neither the son nor the daughter could guess. To the former this awakened activity of the old man's brain was not a little annoying. He had been obliged to renew his note for the money borrowed to replace that which had been transferred to Sandy Flash, and in the mean time was concocting an ingenious device by which the loss should not entirely fall on his own half-share of the farm-profits. He could not have endured his father's tyranny without the delight of the cautious and wary revenges of this kind which he sometimes allowed himself to take. Another circumstance, which gave him great uneasiness, was this : the old man endeavored in various ways, both direct and indirect, to obtain knowledge of the small invest- ments which he had made from time to time. The most of these had been, through the agency of the old lawyer at Chester, consolidated into a first-class mortgage ; but it was Alfred's interest to keep his father in ignorance of the 1.66 THE STORY OF KENNETT. other sums, not because of their importance, but because of their insignificance. He knew that the old man's declara- tion was true, " The more you have, the more you '11 get ! " The following Sunday, as he was shaving himself at the back kitchen-window, Ann being up-stairs, at her thread- bare toilet, Old Barton, who had been silent during breakfast, suddenly addressed him : " Well, boy, how stands the matter now ? " The son knew very well what was meant, but he thought it best to ask, with an air of indifference, What matter, Daddy ? " " What matter, eh ? The colt's lame leg, or the farrow o* the big sow ? Gad, boy ! don't you ever think about the gal, except when I put it into your head ? " " Oh, that ! " exclaimed Alfred, with a smirk of well- assumed satisfaction " that, indeed ! Well, I think I may say, Daddy, that all 's right in that quarter." " Spoken to her yet ? " " N-no, not right out, that is ; but since other folks have found out what I 'm after, I guess it 's plain enough to her. And a good sign is, that she plays a little shy." " Should n't wonder," growled the old man. " Seems to me you play a little shy, too. Have to take it in my own hands, if it ever comes to anything." " Oh, it is n't at all necessary ; I can do my own court- ing," Alfred replied, as he wiped his razor and laid it away. " Do it, then, boy, in short order ! You 're too old to stand in need o' much billin' and cooin' but the gal 's rayther young, and may expect it and I s'pose it 's the way. But I 'd sooner you 'd step up to the Doctor, bein' as I can only take him when he comes here to me loaded and primed. He 's mighty cute and sharp, but if you 've got any gumption, we '11 be even with him." Alfred turned around quickly and looked at his father. " Ay, boy, I 've had one bout with him, last Sunday, and there 's more to coine." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 157 * "What was it ? " " Set yourself down on that cheer, and keep your head straight a bit, so that what goes into one ear, don't fly out at the t'other." While Alfred, with a singular expression of curiosity and distrust, obeyed this command, the old man deliberated, for the last time, on the peculiar tactics to be adopted, so that his son should be made an ally, as against Dr. Deane, and yet be prevented from becoming a second foe, as against his own property. For it was very evident that while it was the father's interest to exaggerate the son's presumed wealth, it was the latter's interest to underrate it Thus a third element came into play, making this a triangular game of avarice. If Alfred could have understood his true position, he would have been more courageous ; but his father had him at a decided advantage. " Hark ye, boy ! " said he, " I 've waited e'en about long enough, and it 's time this thing was either a hit or a flash in the pan. The Doctor 's ready for 't ; for all his cunnin' he could n't help lettin' me see that ; but he tries to cover both pockets with one hand while he stretches out the t'other. The gal's money 's safe, ten thousand of it, and we 've agreed that it '11 be share and share ; only, your'n bein' more than her'n, why, of course he must make up the difference." The son was far from being as shrewd as the father, or he would have instantly chosen the proper tack ; but he was like a vessel caught in stays, and experienced considerable internal pitching and jostling. In one sense it was a relief that the old man supposed him to be worth much more than was actually the case, but long experience hinted that a favorable assumption of this kind often led to a damag* ing result. So with a wink and grin, the miserable hypoc- risy of which was evident to his own mind, he said : " Of course he must make up the difference, and more too I I know what 's fair and square." 168 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " Shut your mouth, boy, till I give you leave to open it Do you hear? the gal's ten thousand dollars. must be put ag'inst the ten thousand you 've saved off the profits o' the farm ; then, the rest you 've made bein' properly accounted for, he must come down with the same amount. Then, you must find out to a hair what he 's worth of his own not that it concerns you, but / must know. What you 've got to do is about as much as you 've wits for. Now, open your mouth ! " " Ten thousand ! " exclaimed Alfred, beginning to com- prehend the matter more clearly ; " why, it 's hardly quite ten thousand altogether, let alone anything over!" " No lies, no lies ! I 've got it all in my head, if you have n't. Twenty years on shares first year, one hun- dred and thirty-seven dollars that was the year the big flood swep' off half the corn on the bottom ; second year, two hundred and fifteen, with interest on the first, say six on a hundred, allowin' the thirty-seven for your squander- in's, two hundred and twenty-one ; third year, three hun- dred and five, with interest, seventeen, makes three hun- dred and twenty-two, and twenty, your half of the bay horse sold to Sam Falconer, forty-two ; fourth year " " Never mind, Daddy ! " Alfred interrupted ; " I 've got it all down in my books ; you need n't go over it." The old man struck his hickory staff violently upon the floor. " 1 10 ill go over it ! " he croaked, hoarsely. " I mean to show you, boy, to your own eyes and your own cars, that you 're now worth thirteen thousand two hundred and forty-nine dollars and fifteen cents ! And ten thousand of it balances the gal's ten thousand, leavin' three thousand two hundred and forty-nine and fifteen cents, for the Doctor to make up to you ! And you '11 show him your papers, for you 're no son of mine if you 'vc put out your money without securin' it. I don't mind your goin' your own road with what you 've arned, though, for your proper good, you need n't ha' been so close j but now you Ve THE STORY OF KENNETT. 159 got to show \vhat 's in your hand, if you mean to git It double!" Alfred Barton was overwhelmed by the terrors of this unexpected dilemma. His superficial powers of dissimula- tion forsook him ; he could only suggest, in a weak voice : " Suppose my papers don't show that much ? " " You 've made that, or nigh onto it, and your papers must show it ! If money can't stick to your fingers, do you s'pose I 'm goin' to put more into 'cm ? Fix it any way you like with the Doctor, so you square accounts. Then, afterwards, let him come to me ay, let him come ! " Here the old man chuckled until he brought on a fit of coughing, which drove the dark purple blood into his head. His son hastened to restore him with a glass of brandy. " There, that '11 do," he said, presently ; " now you know what 's what Go up to the Doctor's this afternoon, and have it out before you come home. I can't dance at your wccldin', but I would n't mind help nuss another grand- child or two ch, boy ? " " Damme, and so you shall, Dad ! " the son exclaimed, relapsing into his customary swagger, as the readiest means of flattering the old man's more amiable mood. It was an easier matter to encounter Dr. Dcane to procras- tinate and prolong the settlement of terms, or shift the responsibility of the final nsult from his own shoulders. Of course the present command must be obeyed, and it was by no means an agreeable one ; but Alfred Barton had Courage enough for any emergency not yet arrived. So he began to talk and joke very comfortably about his possible marriage, until Ann, descending to 'the kitchen in her sol- emn black gown, interrupted the conference. That afternoon, as Alfred took his way by the foot-path to the village, he seated himself in the shade, on one end of the log which spanned the creek, in order to examine his position, before venturing on a further step. We will not probe the depths of Ms meditations ; probably they 1 60 THE STORY OF KENNETT. were not very deep, even when most serious ; but \T? maj readily conjecture those considerations which were chiefly obvious to his mind. The affair, which he had so long de- layed, through a powerful and perhaps a natural dread, wai QOW brought to a crisis. He could not retreat without ex- treme risk to his prospects of inheritance ; since his father and Dr. Deane had come to an actual conference, he was forced to assume the part which was appropriate to him. Sentiment, he was aware, would not be exacted, but a cer- tain amount of masculine anticipation belonged to his char- acter of lover ; should he assume this, also, or meet Dr. Deane on a hard business ground ? It is a matter of doubt whether any vulgar man suspects the full extent of his vulgarity ; but there are few who are not conscious, now and then, of a very uncomfortable dif- ference between themselves and the refined natures with whom they come in contact Alfred Barton had never been so troubled by this consciousness as when in the pres- ence of Martha Deane. He was afraid of her ; he foresaw that she, as his wife, would place him in a more painful ..abjection than that which his father now enforced. He was weary of bondage, and longed to draw a free, unwor- ried breath. With all his swagger, his life had not always been easy or agreeable. A year or two more might see him, in fact and in truth, his own master. He was fifty years old ; his habits of life were fixed ; he would have shrunk from the semi-servitude of marriage, though with a woman after his own heart and there was nothing in this (except the money) to attract him. " I see no way ! " he suddenly exclaimed, after a fit of long and unsatisfactory musing. " Nor I neither, unless you make room for me ! " an swered a shrill voice at his side. He started as if shot, becoming aware of Miss Betsj lavender, who had just emerged from the thicket. " Skeered ye, have I ? " said she. " Why, how you do TDK STORY OF KENNETT. 161 color up, to be sure ! I never was that red, even in mj blushin' days; but never mind, what's said to nobody la r.obody's business." He laughed a forced laugh. " I was thinking, Miss Betsy," he said, " how to get the grain threshed and seut to the mills before prices come down. Which way are you going ? " She had been observing him through half-closed eyes, with her head a little thrown back. First slightly nodding to herself, ag if assenting to some mental remark, she asked, " Which way are you goin' ? For my part I rather think ire 're changin' places, me to see Miss Ann, and you to ee Miss Martha." " You 're wrong ! " he exclaimed. " I was only going to make a little neighborly call on the Doctor." "On the Doctor ! Ah-ha ! it 's come to that, has it ? Well, I won't be in the way." " Confound the witch ! " he muttered to himself, as she sprang upon the log and hurried over. Mr. Alfred Barton was not acquainted with the Greek drama, or he would have had a very real sense of what is meant by Fate. As it was, he submitted to circumstances, climbed the hill, and never halted until he found himself in Dr. Deane's sitting-room. Of course, the Doctor was alone and unoccupied ; it always happens so. Moreover he knew, and Alfred Bar- ton knew that he knew, the subject to be discussed ; but it was not the custom of the neighborhood to approach an important interest except in a very gradual and roundabout manner. Therefore the Doctor said, after the first greet- ing, "Thee '11 be getting thy crops to market soon, I im- agine?" "I'd like to," Barton replied, "but there's not force enough on our place, and the threshers are wanted every- U 162 THE STORY OF KENNETT. where at once. What would you do, hurry off the grain now, or wait to see how it may stand in the spring ? " Dr. Dcanc meditated a moment, and then answered with great deliberation: "I never like to advise, where the chances are ahout even. It depends, thee knows, on the prospect of next year's crops. But, which ever way thee decides, it will make less difference to thee than to them that depend altogether upon their yearly earnings." Barton understood this stealthy approach to the impor- tant subject, and met it in the same way. " I don't know," he said ; " it 's slow saving on half-profits. I have to look mighty close, to make anything decent" "Well," said the Doctor, "what is n't laid up ly thee is laid up for thee, I should judge." " I should hope so, Doctor ; but I guess you know th old man as well as I do. If anybody could tell what 's in his mind, it 's Lawyer Stacy, and he 's as close as a steel- trap. I've hardly had a fair chance, and it ought to be made up to me." " It will be, no doubt" And then the Doctor, resting his chin upon his cane, relapsed into a grave, silent, expec- tant mood, which his guest well understood. " Doctor," he said at last, with an awkward attempt at a gay, confidential manner, " you know what I come for to- day. Perhaps I 'm rather an old boy to be here on such an errand ; I 've been a bit afraid lest you might think me so ; and for that reason I hav n't spoken to Martha at all, (though I think she 's smart enough to guess how my mind turns,) and won't speak, till I first have your leave. I 'm not so young as to be light-headed in such matters ; and, most likely, I *m not everything that Martha would like ; but but there 's other things to be considered not that I mind 'em much, only the old man, you know, is very particular about 'em, and so I 've come up to see if we can't agree without much trouble." Dr. Deane took a small pinch of Rappee, and then THE STORY OF RENNET T. 163 touched his nose lightly with his lavendered handkerchief He drew up his hanging under-lip until it nearly covercc the upper, and lifted his nostrils with an air at once of reticence and wisdom. "I don't deny," he said slowly "that I've suspected something of what is in thy mind and I will further say that thee 's done right in coming first to me. Martha being an only d child, I have hei welfare much at heart, and if I had known anything seri ously to thy discredit, I would not have permitted thy atten- tions. So far as that goes, thee may feel easy I dia hope, however, that thee would have some assurance of what thy father intends to do for thee and perhaps thee has, Elisha being established in his own independence, and Ann not requiring a great deal, thee would inherit considerable, besides the farm. And it seems to me that I might justly, in Martha's interest- ask for some such assurance." If Alfred Barton's secret thought had been expressed in words, it would have been: "Curse the old fool he knows what the old man is, as well as I do ! " But he twisted a respectful hypocrisy out of his whisker, and said, " Ye-e-es, that seems only fair. How am / to get at it, though ? I dare n't touch the subject with a ten-foot pole, and yet it stands both to law and reason that I should come in for a handsome slice o' the property. You might take it for granted, Doctor ? " " So I might, if thy father would take for granted what 1 might be able to do. I can see, however, that it 's hardly thy place to ask him ; that might be left to me." This was an idea which had not occurred to Alfred Bar- ton. A thrill of greedy curiosity shot through lu's heart ; he saw that, with Dr. Deane's help, he might be able to ascertain the amount of the inheritance which must so soon fall to him. This feeling, fed by the impatience of his long subjection^ took complete possession of him. and 164 THE STORY OF RENNETT. he resolved to further his father's desires, without regard to present results. " Yes. that might be left to me," the Doctor repeated, "after the other matter is settled. Thee knows what 1 mean. Martha will have ten thousand dollars in her own right, at twenty-five, and sooner, if she marries with my approbation. Now, thee or thy father must bring an equal sum; that is understood between us and I think thy father mentioned that thee could do it without calling upon him. Is that the case ? " "Not quite but, yes, very nearly. That is, the old man 's been so close with me, that I 'm a little close with him, Doctor, you see ! He does n't know exactly how much I have got, and as he threatens to leave me accord- ing to what I 've saved, why, I rather let him have his own way about the matter." A keen, shrewd smile flitted over the Doctor's face. " But if it is n't quite altogether ten thousand, Doctor," Barton continued, " I don't say but what it could be easily made up to that figure. You and I could arrange all that between our two selves, without consulting the old man and, indeed, it 's not his business, in any way, and so, you might go straight to the other matter at once." " H'm," mused the Doctor, with his chin again upon his stick, " 1 should perhaps be working in thy interest, as much as in mine. Then thee can afford to come up fair and square to the mark. Of course, thee has all the papers to show for thy own property ? " " I guess there '11 be no trouble about that," Barton an- swered, carelessly. " I lend on none but the best security. 'T will take a little time must go to Chester so we need n't wait for that ; 't will be all right ! " " Oh, no doubt ; but has n't thee overlooked one thing?" " What ? " " That Martha should first know thy mind towards her." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 165 It was true ; he had overlooked that important fact, and the suggestion came to him very like an attack of cramp. He laughed, however, took out a red silk handkerchief, and tried to wipe a little eagerness into his face. " No, Doctor ! " he exclaimed, " not forgot, only keeping the best for the last. I was n't sure but you might want to fipeak to her yourself, first ; but she knows, does n't she ? " " Not to my direct knowledge ; and I would n't like to venture to speak in her name." " Then, I '11 that is, you think I 'd better have a talk with her. A little tough, at my time of life, ha ! ha ! but faint heart never won fair lady ; and I had n't thought of going that far to-day, though of course, I 'in anxious, been in my thoughts so long, and perhaps perhaps " " I '11 tell thee," said the Doctor, seeming not to notice Barton's visible embarrassment, which he found very nat- ural ; u do thce come up again next First-day afternoon, prepared to speak thy mind. I will give Martha a hint r,f thy purpose beforehand, but only a hint, mind thee ; the girl has a smart head of her own, and thee '11 come on faster with her if thee pleads thy own cause with thy own mouth." " Yes, I '11 come then ! " cried Barton, so relieved at his present escape that his relief took the expression of joy. Dr. Deane was a fair judge of character ; he knew all of Alfred Barton's prominent traits, and imagined that he was now reading him like an open book ; but it was like reading one of those Latin sentences which, to the ear, are made up of English words. The signs were all correct, only they belonged to another language. The heavy wooer shortly took his departure. While on the return path, he caught sight of Miss Betsy Lavender's beaver, bobbing along behind the pickets of the hill-fence, and, rather than encounter its wearer in his present mood, he stole into the shelter of one of the cross-hedges, and made his way into the timbered bottom below. 166 THE STORY OF KENNETT CHAPTER XVL MARTHA DEANE. LHTLE did Dr. Dcane suspect the nature of the conver- sation which had that morning been held in his daughter's room, between herself and Betsy Lavender. "NYhen the latter returned from her interview with Gil- bert Potter, the previous evening, she found the Doctor already arrived. Mark came home at supper-time, and the evening was so prolonged by his rattling tongue that no room was left for any confidential talk with Martha, although Miss Betsy felt that something ought to be said, and it properly fell to her lot to broach the delicate sub- ject After breakfast on Sunday morning, therefore, she slipped up to Martha's room, on the transparent pre- tence of looking again at a new dress, which had been bought some days before. She held the stuff to the light, turned it this way and that, and regarded it with an im- portance altogether out of proportion to its value. " It seems as if I could n't git the color rightly set in my head," she remarked ; " 't a'n't quiet laylock, nor yit vi'let, and there ought, by rights, to be quilled ribbon round the neck, though the Doctor might consider it too gay ; but never mind, he 'd dress you in drab or slate if he could, and I dunno, after all" " Betsy ! " exclaimed Martha, with an impetuousness quite unusual to her calm nature, " throw down the dress 1 Why won't you speak of what is in your mind ; don' f you see I 'm waiting for it ? " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 167 You 're right, child ! " Miss Betsy cried, flinging the stuff to the farthest corner of the room ; " I 'm an awk- ward old fool, with all my expcr'ence. Of course I seen it with half a wink ; there ! don't be so trembly now. I know how you feel, Martha ; you would n't think it, but I do. I can tell the real signs from the passin' fancies, and if ever I see true-love in my born days, I see it in you, child, and in him" Martha's face glowed in spite of herself. The recollec- tion of Gilbert's embrace in the dusky glen came to her, already for the thousandth time, but warmer, sweeter at each recurrence. She felt that her hand trembled in that of the spinster, as they sat knee to knee, and that a tender dew was creeping into her eyes ; leaning forward, she laid her face a moment on her friend's shoulder, and whis- pered, " It is all very new and strange, Betsy ; but I am happy." Miss Lavender did not answer immediately. With her hand on Martha's soft, smooth hair, she was occupied in twisting her arm so that the sleeve might catch and con ceal two troublesome tears which were at that moment trickling down her nose. Besides, she was not at all sure of her voice, until something like a dry crust of bread in her throat had been forcibly swallowed down. Martha, however, presently lifted her head with a firm, courageous expression, though the rosy flush still suffused her cheeks. " I 'm not as independent as people think," she said, " for I could n't help myself when the time came, and I seem to belong to him, ever since." " Ever since. Of course you do ! " remarked Miss Betsy, with her head down and her hands busy at her high comb and thin twist of hair ; " every woman, savin' and exceptin'' myself, and no fault o' mine, must play Jill to somebody's Jack ; it 's man's way and the Lord's way, but worked out with a mighty variety, though I say it, but why not, my eyes bein' as good as anybody else's ! Come now, you 're 168 THE STORY OF KENNETT lookin* again nfter your own brave fashion ; and so, you 're sure o' your heart, Martha ? " " Betsy, my heart speaks once and for all," said Martha, with kindling eyes. "Once and for all. I knowed it and so the Lord help us ! For here I smell wagon-loads o' trouble ; and if you were n't a girl to know her own mind and stick to it, come weal, come woe, and he with a bull-dog's jaw that '11 never let go, and I mean no runnin' of him down, but on the contrary, quite the reverse, I 'd say to both, git over it somehow for it won't be, and no matter if no use, it 'a my dooty, well, it 's t'other way, and I 've got to give a lift where I can, and pull this way, and shove that way, and hold back everybody, maybe, and fit things to things, and unfit other things, Good Lord, child, you 've made an awful job for me ! " Therewith Miss Betsy laughed, with a dry, crisp, cheer- fulness which quite covered up and concealed her forebod- ings. Nothing pleased her better than to see realized in life her own views of what ought to be, and the possibil- ity of becoming one of the shaping and regulating powers to that end stirred her nature to its highest and most joyous activity. Martha Deane, equally brave, was more sanguine. The joy of her expanding love foretold its fulfilment to her heart. " I know, Betsy," she said, " that father would not hear of it now ; but we are both young and can wait, at least until I come into my property ours, I ought to say, for I think of it already as being as much Gilbert's aa mine. What other trouble can there be ? " " Is there none on his side, Martha ? " " His birth ? Yes, there is or was, though not to me never to me ! I am so glad, for his sake, but, Betsy, perhaps you do not know " " If there 's anything I need to know, I '11 find it out, noon or late. He 's worried, that I see, and no wonder THE STORY OF KENNETT. 161 poor boy ! But as you say, there 's time enough, and my single and solitary advice to both o' you, is, don't look at one another before folks, if you can't keep your eyes from blabbin'. Not a soul suspicions anything now, and if you two '11 only fix it betwixt and between you to keep quiet, and patient, and as forbearin' in showin' feelin' as pec-pie that hate each other like snakes, why, who knows but somethin' may turn up, all unexpected, to make the way as smooth for ye as a pitch-pine plank ! " " Patient ! " Martha murmured to herself. A bright smile broke over her face, as she thought how sweet it would be to match, as best a woman might, Gilbert's incompar- able patience and energy of purpose. The tender humil- ity of her love, so beautifully interwoven with the texture of its pride and courage, filled her heart with a balmy soft- ness and peace. She was already prepared to lay her firm, independent spirit at his feet, or exercise it only as her new, eternal duty to him might require. Betsy Lav- ender's warning could not ripple the bright surface of her happiness ; she knew that no one (hardly even Gilbert, as yet) suspected that in her heart the love of a strong and faithful and noble man outweighed all other gifts or con- sequences of life that, to keep it, she would give up home, friends, father, the conventional respect of every one she knew ! " Well, child ! " exclaimed Miss Lavender, after a long lapse of silence ; " the words is said that can't be taken back, accordin' to my views o' things, though, Goodness knows, there 's enough and enough thinks different, and you must abide by 'em ; and what I think of it all I '11 tell you when the end comes, not before, so don't ask me now ; but one thing more, there 's another sort of a gust brewin', and goin' to break soon, if ever, and that is, Alf. Barton, though you won't believe it, he 's after you in his Btupid way, and your father favors him. And my advice is, hold him off as much as you please, but say nothin' o* Gilbert 1 " 170 THE STORY OF KENNETT This warning made no particular impression upon Mar- tha. She playfully tapped Miss Betsy's high comb, and said : " Now, if you are going to be so much worried about me, I shall be sorry that you found it out" " Well I won't ! and now let me hook your gownd." Often, after that, however, did Martha detect Miss Betsy's eyes fixed upon her with a look of wistful, tender interest, and she knew, though the spinster would not say it, that the latter was alive with sympathy, and happy in the new confidence between them. With each day, her own passion grew and deepened, until it seemed that the true knowledge of love came after its confession. A sweet, warm yearning for Gilbert's presence took its permanent seat in her heart ; not only his sterling manly qualities, but his form, his face the broad, square brow ; the large, sad, deep-set gray eyes; the firm, yet impassioned lips haunted her fancy. Slowly and almost unconsciously as her affection had been developed, it now took the full stature and wore the radiant form of her maiden dream of love. If Dr. Deanc noticed the physical bloom and grace which those days brought to his daughter, he was utterly innocent of the true cause. Perhaps he imagined that his own eyes were first fairly opened to her beauty by the prospect of soon losing her. Certainly she had never seemed more obedient and attractive. He had not forgotten his promise to Alfred Barton ; but no very convenient opportunity for speaking to her on the subject occurred until the following Sunday morning. Mark was not at home, and he rode with her to Old Kennett Meeting. As they reached the top of the long hill beyond the creek, Martha reined in her horse to enjoy the pleasant westward view over the fair September landscape. The few houses of the village crownf/d the opposite hill ; but on this side the winding, wooded vale meandered away, to lose itself among the swelling slopes of clover and stubble-field j THE STORY OF KENNETT. 173 and beyond, over the blue level of Tuff kenamon, the oak woods of Avondalc slept on the horizon. It was a land- scape siich as one may sec, in a more cultured form, on the road from Warwick to Stratford. Every one in Kcn- nett enjoyed the view, but none so much as Martha Deane, upon whom its harmonious, pastoral aspect exercised an indescribable charm. To the left, on the knoll below, rose the chimneys of the Barton farm-house, over the round tops of the appic-trees, and in the nearest field Mr. Alfred's Ma/yland cattle were fattening on the second growth of clover. " A nice place, Martha ! " said Dr. Deanc, with a wa?e of his arm, and a whiff of sweet herbs. " Here, in this first field, is the true place for the house,' she answered, thinking only of the landscape beauty of the farm. " Does thee mean so ? " the Doctor eagerly asked, delib- erating with himself how much of his plan it was safe to reveal. "Thee may be right, and perhaps thee might bring Alfred to thy way of thinking." She laughed. " It 's hardly worth the trouble." " I 've noticed, of late," her father continued, " that Al- fred seems to set a good deal of store by thee. He visits us pretty often." " Why, father ! " she exclaimed, as they rode onward, " it 's rather thee that attracts him, and cattle, and crops, and the plans for catching Sandy Flash ! He looks fright- ened whenever I speak to him." <: A little nervous, perhaps. Young men are of;en so, in the company of young women, I 'vc observed." Martha laughed so cheerily that her father said to him- self: " Well, it does n't displease her, at any rate." On the other hand, is was possible that she might have failed to see Barton in the light of a wooer, and therefore a further hint would be required. a Now that we happen to speak of him, Martha," he said, 172 THE STORY OF KENNETT. "I might as well tell thee that, in my judgment, he seems to be drawn towards thee in the way of marriage. He may be a little awkward in showing it, but that 's a com- mon case. When he was at our house, last First-day, he" spoke of thee frequently, and said that he would like to well, to see thee soon. I believe he intends coming up this afternoon." Martha became grave, as Betsy Lavender's warning took so suddenly a positive form. However, she had thought of this contingency as a possible thing, and must prepare her- self to meet it with firmness. " What does thee say ? " the Doctor asked, after waiting a few minutes for an answer. " Father, I hope thee r s mistaken. Alfred Barton is noi overstocked with wit, I know, but he can hardly be that foolish. He is almost as old as thee." She spoke quietly, but with that tone of decision which Dr. Deane so well knew. He set his teeth and drew up his under-lip to a grim pout. If there was to be resist- ance, he thought, she would not find him so yielding as on other points ; but he would first try a middle course. " Understand me, Martha," he said ; " I do not mean to declare what Alfred Barton's sentiments really are, but what, in my judgment, they might be. And thee had bet- ter wait and learn, before setting thy mind either for or against him. It 's hardly putting much value upon thyself, to call him foolish." " It is a humiliation to me, if thee is right, father," she said. " I don't see that. Many young women would be proud of it. 1 11 only say one thing, Martha ; if he seeks thee, and does speak his mind, do thee treat him kindly and re- spectfully." " Have I ever treated thy friends otherwise ? " she asked '' My friends ! thee 's right he is my friend." one made no reply, but her soul was already coura THE STORi" OF KEXXETT. 175 geously arming itself for battle. Her father's face was stern and cold, and she saw, at once, that he was on the side of the enemy. This struggle safely over, there would come another and a severer one. It was well that she had given herself time, setting the fulfilment of her love so far in ad- vance. Nothing more was said on this theme, either during the ride to Old Kennett, or on the return. Martha's plan was very simple : she would quietly wait until Alfred Barton should declare his sentiments, and then reject him once and forever. She would speak clearly, and finally ; there should he no possibility of misconception. It was not a pleasant task ; none hut a vain and heartless woman would be eager to assume it; and Martha Dearc hoped that it might be spared her. But she, no less than her irresolute lover, (if we can ap- ply that word to Alfred Barton,) was an instrument in the hands of an uncomfortable Fate. Soon after dinner a hesitating knock was heard at the door, and Barton entered with a more uneasy air than ever before. Erelong, Dr Deane affected to have an engagement with an invalid on the New-Garden road ; Betsy Lavender had gone to Fair- thorn's for the afternoon, and the two were alone. For a few moments, Martha was tempted to follow her father's example, and leave Alfred Barton to his own de- vices. Then she reflected that this was a cowardly feeling ; it would only postpone her task. He had taken his scat, as usual, in the very centre of the room ; so she came for- ward and seated herself at the front window, with her back to the light, thus, woman-like, giving herself all the advan- tages of position. Having his large, heavy face before her, in full light, she was at first a little surprised on finding that it expressed not even the fond anxiety, much less the eagerness, of an aspiring wooer. The hair and whiskers, it is true, were so imoothly combed back that they made long lappets on 174 THE STORY OJ HEXXETT. either side of his face : unusual care had been taken with his cambric cravat and shirt-ruffles, and he wore his best blue coat, which was entirely too warm for the season. In strong contrast to this external preparation, were his rest-; less eyes which darted hither and thither in avoidance of her gaze, the fidgety movements of his thick fingers, creep- ing around buttons and in and out of button-holes, and finally the silly, embarrassed half-smile which now and then came to his mouth, and made the platitudes of his speech almost idiotic. Martha Deane felt her courage rise as she contemplated this picture. In spite of the disgust which his gross physi- cal appearance, and the contempt which his awkward help- lessness inspired, she was conscious of a lurking sense ol amusement Even a curiosity, which we cannot reprehend, to know by what steps and in what manner he would come to the declaration, began to steal into her mind, now that it was evident her answer could not possibly wound any other feeling than vanity. In this mood, se left the burden of the conversation to him. He might flounder, or be completely stalled, as often as he pleased ; it was no part of her business to help him. In about three minutes after she had taken her seat by the window, he remarked, with a convulsive smile, " Apples are going to be good, this year." " Are they ? " she said. " Yes ; do you like 'em? Most girls do." " I believe I do, except Russets," Martha replied, vith her hands clasped in her lap, and her eyes full upon his (ace. He twisted the smoothness out of one whisker, very much disconcerted at her remark, because he could not tell he never could, when speaking with her whether or not she was making fun of him. But he could think of o nothing to say, except his own preferences iu the matter of THE STORY OF KEXNETT 175 tpples. a theme which he pursued until Martha was verj tired of it. He next asked after Mark Deane, expressing at great length his favorable opinion of the young carpenter, and relating what pains he had taken to procure for him the building of Hallowell's barn. But to each observation Martha made the briefest possible replies, so that in a short time he was forced to start another topic. Nearly an hour had passed, and Martha's sense of the humorous had long since vanished under the drearv monot- O ony of the conversation, when Alfred Barton seemed to have come to a desperate resolution to end his embarrass- ment. Grasping his knees with both hands, and dropping his head forward so that the arrows of her eyes might glance from his fat forehead, he said. " I suppose you know why I come here to-day, Miss Martha ? " All her powers were awake and alert in a moment. She scrutinized his face keenly, and, although his eyes were hid- den, there were lines enough visible, especially about thb mouth, to show that the bitter predominated over the sweet in his emotions. " To see my father, was n't it ? I 'm sorry he was obliged to leave home," she answered. " No, Miss Martha, I come to sec you. I have some thing to say to you, and I 'm sure you know what I mean by this time, don't you ? " " No. How should I ? " she coolly replied. It was not true ; but the truest-hearted woman that ever lived could have given no other answer. Alfred Barton felt the sensation of a groan pass through him, jinJ it very nearly came out of his mouth. Then he pushed on, in a last wild effort to perform the remainder of Ins exacted task in one piece : " I want you to be to be my wife ! That is, raj father and yours are agreed about it, and they thiuk I oughl 176 THE STORY OF KENNETT to speak to you. I 'm a good deal older, and and per baps yon might n't fancy me in all things, but they say it '11 make little difference ; and if you have n't thought about it much, why, there 's no hurry as to making up your mind. I 've told you now, and to be sure you ought to know, while the old folks are trying to arrange property matters, and it 's my place, like, to speak to you first" Here he paused ; his face was very red, and the perspi- ration was oozing in great drops from every pore. Ha drew forth the huge red silk handkerchief, and mopped his cheeks, his nose, and his forehead ; then lifted his head and stole a quick glance at Martha. Something in his face puzzled her, and yet a sudden presentiment of his true state of feeling flashed across her mind. She still sat, looking steadily at him, and for a few moments did not speak. " Well ? " he stammered. " Alfred Barton," she said, " I must ask you one ques- tion , do you love me ? " He seemed to feel a sharp sting. The muscles of his mouth twitched ; he bit his lip, sank his head again, and murmured, "Y-ycs." " He does not," she said to herself. " I am spared this humiliation. It is a mean, low nature, and fears mine fears, and would soon hate. He shall not sec even so much of me as would be revealed by a frank, respectful rejection. I must punish him a little for the deceit, and I now sec how to do it." While these thoughts passed rapidly through her brain, she waited until he should again venture to meet her eye. When he lifted his head, she exclaimed, " You have told an untruth ! Don't turn your head away ; look me in the face, and hear me tell you that you do not love me that you have not come to me of youi own desire, and that you would rather ten thousand time* THE STORY OF KENXETT. 177 t should say No, if it were not for a little property of mine But suppose I, too, were of a similar nature ; suppose I cared not for what is called love, but only for money and lands such as you will inherit ; suppose I found the plans of my father and your father very shrewd and reasonable, and were disposed to enter into them what then ? " Alfred Barton was surprised out of the last remnant of his hypocrisy. His face, so red up to this moment, sud- denly became sallow ; his chin dropped, and an expression of amazement and fright came into the eyes fixed on Martha's. The game she was playing assumed a deeper interest ; here was something which she could not yet fathom. She saw what influence had driven him to her, against his incli- nation, but his motive for seeming to obey, while dreading success, was a puzzle. Singularly enough, a slight feeling of commiseration began to soften her previous contempt, and hastened her final answer. "I see that these suppositions would not please you," she said, " and thank you for the fact. Your face is more candid than your speech. I am now ready to say, Alfred Barton, because I am sure the knowledge will be agree- able to you, that no lands, no money, no command of my father, no degree of want, or misery, or disgrace, could ever make me your wife ! " She had risen from her chair while speaking, and he also started to his feet. Her words, though such an astounding relief in one sense, had nevertheless given him pain ; there was a sting in them which cruelly galled his self-conceit. It was enough to be rejected ; she need not have put an eternal gulf between their natures. " "Well," said he, sliding the rim of his beaver backwards and forwards between his fingers, " I suppose I '11 have to be going. You 're very plain-spoken, as I might ha' known. I doubt whether we two would make u good team, and no offence to you, Miss Martha. Only, it '11 be a mor- 13 178 THE STORY OF KENNETT. tal disappointment to the old man, and look here, it a'n't worth while to say anything about it, is it?" Alfred Barton was strongly tempted to betray the secret reason which Martha had not yet discovered. After the strong words he had taken from her, she owed him a kind- ness, he thought ; if she would only allow the impression that the matter was still undecided that more time (which a coy young maiden might reasonably demand) had been granted ! On the other hand, he feared that her clear, firm integrity of character would be repelled by the nature of his motive. He was beginning to feel, greatly to his own surprise, a profound respect for her. " (f my father questions me about your visit," she said, " I shall tell him simply that I have declined your offer. No one else is likely to ask me." " I don't deny," he continued, still lingering near the door, " that I 've been urged by my father yours, too, for that matter to make the offer. But I don't want you to think hard of me. I 've not had an easy time of it, and if you knew everything, you 'd see that a good deal is n't rightly to be laid to my account." He spoke sadly, and so genuine a stamp of unhappiness was impressed upon his face, that Martha's feeling of com- miseration rose to the surface. " You '11 speak to me, when we happen to meet ? " he said. " If I did not," she answered, " every one would suspect that something had occurred. That would be unpleasant for both of us. Do not think that I shall bear malice against you ; on the contrary, I wish you well." He stooped, kissed her hand, and then swiftiy, silently and with averted head, left the room. THE STOUT OF KENNETT. 178 CHAPTER XVIL CONSULTATIONS. WJIEN Dr. Dcanc returned home, in season for supper, he found Martha and Betsy Lavender employed about their little household matters. The former showed no lack of cheerfulness or composure, nor, on the other hand, any such nervous unrest as would be natural to a maiden whose hand had just been asked in marriage. The Doctor could not at all guess, from her demeanor, whether any- thing had happened during his absence. That Alfred Barton had not remained was rather an unfavorable cir- cumstance ; but then, possibly, he had not found courage to speak. All things being considered, it seemed best that he should say nothing to Martha, until he had had another interview with his prospective son-in-law. At this time Gilbert Potter, in ignorance of the cunning plans which were laid by the old men, was working early and late to accomplish all necessary farm-labor by the first of October. That month he had resolved to devote to the road between Columbia and Newport, and if but average success attended his hauling, the earnings of six round trips, with the result of his bountiful harvest, would at last place in his hands the sum necessary to defray the remaining debt upon the farm. His next year's wheat-crop was already sowed, the seed-clover cut, and the fortnight which still intervened was to be devoted to threshing. In this emergency, as at reaping-time, when it was difficult to obtain extra hands, he depended on Deb. Smith, and she did not fail him. 180 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Her principal home, when she was not employed OB form-work, was a log-hut, on the edge of a wood, belong, ing to the next farm north of Fairthorn's. This farm the MVoodrow property," as it was called had been stripped of its stock and otherwise pillaged by the British troops, (Howe and Cornwallis having had their headquar- ters at Kennett Square), the day previous to the Battle of Brandywine, and the proprietor l\ad never since recovered from his losses. The place presented a ruined and deso- lated appearance, and Deb. Smith, for that reason perhaps, had settled herself in the original log-cabin of the first settler, beside a swampy bit of ground, near the road. The Woodrow farm-house was on a ridge beyond the wood, and no other dwelling was in sight. The mysterious manner of life of this woman had no doubt given rise to the bad name which she bore in the neighborhood. She would often disappear for a week or two at a time, and her return seemed to take place inva- riably in the night. Sometimes a belated farmer would see the single front window of her cabin lighted at mid- night, and hear the dulled sound of voices in the stillness. But no one cared to play the spy upon her movements very closely ; her great strength and fierce, reckless tem- per made her dangerous, and her hostility would have been worse than the itching of ungratified curiosity. So they let her alone, taking their revenge in the character they ascribed to her, and the epithets they attached to her name. When Gilbert, after hitching his horse in a corner of the zigzag picket-fence, climbed over and approached the cabin, Deb. Smith issued from it to meet him, closing the heavy plank door carefully behind her. " So, Mr. Gilbert ! " she cried, stretching out her hard, red hand, " I reckon you want me ag'in. I 've been holdin off from many jobs o' thrashin', this week, because I sua picioned ye 'd be comin' for me," THE STORY OF KENNETT. 181 u Thank you, Deborah ! " said he, " you 're a friend in need." "Am I? There you speak the truth. Wait till you see me thump the Devil's tattoo with my old flail on your thrashin'-floor ! But you look as cheery as an Easter- mornin' sun ; you 've not much for to complain of, these days, I guess ? " Gilbert smiled. " Take care ! " she cried, a kindly softness spreading over her rough face, " good luck 's deceitful ! If I had the strands o' your fortin' in my hands, may be I would n't twist 'em even ; but I ha'n't, and my fingers is too thick to man- age anything smaller 'n a rope-knot You 're goin' ? Well, look out for me bright and early o' Monday, and my sar- vice to your mother ! " As he rode over the second hill, on his way to the vil- lage, Gilbert's heart leaped, as he beheld Betsy Lavender just turning into Fairthorn's gate. Except his mother, she was the only person who knew of his love, and he had great need of her kind and cautious assistance. He had not allowed his heart simply to revel in the ecstasy of its wonderful fortune, or to yearn with inexpres- sible warmth for Martha's dearest presence, though these emotions haunted him constantly ; he had also endeavored to survey the position in which he stood, and to choose the course which would fulfil both his duty towards her and towards his mother. His coming independence would have made the prospect hopefully bright, but for the secret which lay across it like a threatening shadow. Betsy Lav- ender's assurances had only partially allayed his dread ; something hnstv and uncertain in her manner still lingered o * o uneasily in his memory, and he felt sure that she knew more than she was willing to tell. Moreover, he craved with all the strength of his heart for another interview with Martha, and he knew of no way to obtain it without Betsy's help. 188 THE STORY DF KENNETT. Her hand was on the gate-latch when his cull reached her ears. Looking tip the road, she saw that he had stopped his horse between the high, bushy banks, and was beckoning earnestly. Darting a hasty glance at the ivy- draped windows nearest the road, and finding that she was not observed, she hurried to meet him. " Betsy," he whispered, " I must see Martha again before I leave, and you must tell me how." " Tell me how. Folks say that lovyers' wits arc sharp," said she, " but I would n't give much for either o' your'n. I don't like underhanded goin's-on, for my part, for things done in darkness '11 come to light, or somethin' like it ; but never mind, if they 're crooked everyway they won't run in straight tracks, all 't once't This I see, and you see, and she sees, that we must all keep as dark as sin." " But there must be some way," Gilbert insisted. " Do you never walk out together ? And could n't we arrange a time you, too, Betsy, I want you as well ! " " I 'm afeard I 'd be like the fifth wheel to a wagon." " No, no ! You must be there you must hear a good part of what I have to say." " A good part that '11 do ; thought you did n't mean the whole. Don't fret so, lad ; you '11 have Roger tramp- in' me down, next thing. Martha and me talk o' walkiri over to Polly Withers's. She promised Martha a pa'triclge- breasted aloe, and they say you 've got to plant it in pewter sand, and only water it once't a month, and how it can grow I can't see ; but never mind, all the same s'pose we say Friday afternoon about three o'clock, goin' through the big woods between the Square and Witherscs, and you might have a gun, for the squirls is plenty, and so acci- dental-like, if anybody should come along " "That's it, Betsy!" Gilbert cried, las face flashing * thank you, a thousand times ! " " A thousand times," she repeated. " Once't is enough.* Gilbert rode homewards, after a pleasant call at Fair THE STORY OF KENNETT. 183 thorn's, in a very joyous mood. Not daring to converse with his mother on the one subject which filled his heart, he showed her the calculations which positively assured his independence in a short time. She was never weary of going over the figures, and although her sad, cautious nature always led her to anticipate disappointments, there was now so much already in hand that she was forced to share her son's sanguine views. Gilbert could not help noticing that this idea of independence, for which she had labored so strenuously, seemed to be regarded, in her mind, as the first step towards her mysterious and long- delayed justification ; she was so impatient for its accom- plishment, her sad brow lightened so, her breath came so much freer as she admitted that his calculations were cor- rect! Nevertheless, as he frequently referred to the matter on the following days, she at last said, " Please, Gilbert, don't always talk so certainly of what is n't over and settled ! It makes me fearsome, so to take Providence for granted beforehand. I don't think the Lord likes it, for I 've often noticed that it brings disap- pointment ; and I 'd rather be humble and submissive in heart, the better to deserve our good fortune when it comes." " You may be right, mother," he answered ; " but it '& pleasant to me to see you looking a little more hopeful." " Ay, lad, I 'd never look otherwise, for your sake, if I 3ould." And nothing more was said. Before sunrise on Monday morning, the rapid, alternate beats of three flails, on Gilbert's threshing-floor, made the autumnal music which the farmer loves to hear. Two of these Gilbert's and Sam's kept time with each other, one falling as the other rose ; but the third, quick- loud, and filling all the pauses with thundering taps, was wielded by the arm of Deb. Smith. Day by clay, the pile of wheat- sheaves lessened in the great bay, and the cone of golden 184 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Straw rose higher in the barn-yard. If a certain black jug, behind the barn-door, needed frequent replenishing, Gil- bert knew that the strength of its contents passed into the red, bare, muscular arms which shamed his own, and that Deb., while she was under his roof, would allow herself no coarse excess, either of manner or speech. The fierce, defiant look left her face, and when she sat, of an evening, with her pipe in the chimney-corner, both mother and son found her very entertaining company. In Sam she in- spired at once admiration and despair. She could take him by the slack of the waist-band and lift him at arm's- length, and he felt that he should never be " a full hand," if he were obliged to equal her performances with the flail. Thus, his arm keeping time to the rhythm of joy in his heart, and tasting the satisfaction of labor as never before in his life, the days passed to Gilbert Potter. Then came the important Friday, hazy with " the smoke of burning summer," and softly colored with the drifts of golden-rods and crimson sumac leaves along the edges of the yet green forests. Easily feigning an errand to the village, he walked rapidly vip the road in the warm afternoon, taking the cross-road to New-Garden just before reaching Hallo- well's, and then struck to the right across the fields. After passing the crest of the hill, the land sloped grad- ually down to the eastern end of Tuffkenamon valley, which terminates at the ridge upon which Kennett Square stands. Below him, on the right, lay the field and hedge, across which he and Fortune (he wondered what had be- come of the man) had followed me chase ; and before him, on the level, rose the stately trees of the wood which was to be his trysting-place. .It was a sweet, peaceful scene, and but for the under-current of trouble upon which all his sensations floated, he could have recognized the beauty and the bliss of human life, which such golden clays suggest. It was scarcely yet two o'clock, and he watched the smooth field nearest the village for full three-quarters of ac THE STORY OF KENNETT. 185 hour, before his sharp eyes could detect any moving form upon its surface. To impatience succeeded doubt, to doubt, at its most cruel height, a shock of certainty. Betsy Lav- ender and Martha Deane had entered the field at the bot- tom, and. concealed behind the hedge of black-thorn, had walked half-way to the wood before he discovered them, by means of a lucky break in the hedge. With breathless haste he descended the slope, entered the wood at its lower edge, and traversed the tangled thickets of dogwood and haw, until he gained the foot-path, winding through the very heart of the shade. It was not many minutes before the two advancing forms glimmered among the leaves. As he sprang forward to meet them, Miss Betsy Lavender suddenly exclaimed, *' Well, I never, Martha ! here 's wintergrecn ! " and was down on her knees, on the dead leaves, with her long nose nearly touching the plants. When the lovers saw each other's eyes, one impulse drew them heart to heart. Each felt the clasp of the other's arms, and the sweetness of that perfect kiss, which is mutually given, as mutually taken, the ripe fruit of love, which having once tasted, all its first timid tokens seem ever afterwards immature and unsatisfactory. The hearts of both had unconsciously grown in warmth, in grace and tenderness ; and they now felt, for the first time, the utter, reciprocal surrender of their natures which truly gave them to each other. As they slowly unwound the blissful embrace, and, hold- ing each other's hands, drew their faces apart until either's eyes could receive the other's beloved countenance, no words were spoken, and none were needed. Thencefor- ward, neither would ever say to the other, " Do you love me as well as ever ? " or " Are you sure you can never change?" for theirs were natures to which such tender doubt and curiosity were foreign. It was not the age of introversion or analytical love; they were sound, 186 THE STORY OF EENNEfT. fervent natures, and believed forever in the groat truth which had come to them. " Gilbert," said Martha, presently, " it was right that we should meet before you leave home. I have much to tell you for now you must know everything that concerns me ; it is your right." Her words were very grateful. To hear her say " It is your right," sent a thrill of purely unselfish pride through his breast. He admitted an equal right, on her part ; the moments were precious, and he hastened to answer her declaration by one as frank and confiding. " And I," he said, " could not take another step until I had seen you. Do not fear, Martha, to test my patience or my faith io you, for anything you may put upon me will be easy to bear. I have turned our love over and over in my mind ; tried to look at it as we both nust, sooner or later as something which, though it don't in any wise belong to others, yet with which others have the power to interfere. The world is n't made quite right, Martha, and we 're living in it." Martha's lip took a firmer curve. " Our love is right, Gilbert," she exclaimed, " and the world must give way ! " " It must I 've sworn it ! Now let us try to see what arc the mountains in our path, and how we can best get around or over them. First, this is my position." Thereupon Gilbert clearly and rapidly explained to her his precise situation. He set forth his favorable prospects of speedy independence, the obstacle which his mother's secret threw in their way, and his inability to guess any means which might unravel the mystery, and hasten his and her deliverance. The disgrace once removed, he thought, all other impediments to their union would be of trifling importance. " I see all that clearly," said Martha, when he had fin- ished ; " now, this is my position." She told him frankly her father's plans concerning her, THE STORY OF KENNETT. . 187 and gave him, with conscientious minuteness, all the details of Alfred Barton's interview. At first his face grew dark, but at the cl 5se he was able to view the subject in its true character, and to contemplate it with as careless a merri- ment as her own. " You sec, Gilbert," were Martha's final words, " how we arc situated. If I marry, against my father's consent, be- fore I am twenty-five " " Don't speak of your property, Martha ! " he cried ; " 1 never took that into mind ! " " I know you did n't, Gilbert, but 1 do ! It is mine, and must be mine, to be yours ; here you must let me have my own way I will obey you in everything else. Four years is not long for us to wait, having faith in each other ; and in that time, I doubt not, your mother's secret will be re- vealed. You cannot, must not, press her further ; in the meantime we will see each other as often as possible " " Four years ! " Gilbert interrupted, in a tone almost of despair. " Well not quite," said Martha, smiling archly ; " since you must know my exact age, Gilbert, I was twenty-one OP the second of last February ; so that the time is really three years, four months, and eleven days." " I 'd serve seven years, as Jacob served, if need be," he said. " It 's not alone the waiting ; it 's the anxiety, the uncertainty, the terrible fear of that which I don't know. I 'm sure that Betsy Lavender guesses something about it ; have you told her what my mother says ? " " It was your secret, Gilbert." " I did n't think." he answered, softly. " But it 's tvell she should know. She is' the best friend we have. Betsy ! * " A mortal long time afore / 'm wanted ! " exclaimed Miss Lavender, with assumed grimness, as she obeyed the call. " I s'pose you thought there was no watch needed, and both ends o' the path open to all the world. Well what an? /to 'lor move mountains likf a grain o' mustard 18& THE STORY OF KENNETT. seed (or however it runs), dip out th' ocean with a pint-pot or ketch old birds with chaff, eh ? " Gilbert, aware that she was familiar with the particular difficulties on Martha's side, now made her acquainted with his own. At the mention of his mother's declsration in regard to his birth, she lifted her hands and nodded her head, listening, thenceforth to the end, with half-closed eyes and her loose lips drawn up in a curious pucker. " What do you think of it ? " he asked, as she remained silent. " Think of it ? About as pretty a snarl as ever I see. I can't say as I 'm so over and above taken aback by what your mother says. I 've all along had a hankerin' suspi- cion of it in my bones. Some things seems to me like the smell o' water-melons, that I 've knowed to come with fresh snow ; you know there is no water-melons, but then, there 's the srnell of 'em ! But it won't do to hurry a mat- ter o' this kind long-sufferin' and slow to anger, though that don't quite suit, but never mind, all the same my opinion is, ye 've both o' ye got to wait ! " " Betsy, do you know nothing about it ? Can you guess nothing ? " Gilbert persisted. She stole a quick glance at Martha, which he detected, and a chill ran through his blood. His face grew pale. " Nothin' that fits your case," said Miss Lavender, pres- ently. She saw the renewal of Gilbert's suspicion, and was casting about in her mind how to allay it without indi- cating something else which she wished to conceal. " This I '11 say," she exclaimed at last, with desperate frankness. " that I do know somethin' that may be o' use, when things comes to the wust, as I hope they won't, but it 's neither hero nor there so far as you two are concerned ; so don't ask me, for I won't tell, and if it 's to be done, 1 'm the only one to do it ! If I 've got my little secrets, I 'm keepin* 'em in your interest, remember that ! " There was the glimmer of a tear in each of Miss Lav en dor's eyes before she knew it. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 188 Betsy, my dear friend ! " cried Gilbert, " we know you n^ trust you. Only say this, for my sake that you think my mother's secret is nothing which will part Martha and me!" *- Martha and me. I do think so am la dragon, or a what 's that Job talks about? a behemoth ? It 's no use ; we must all wait and see what '11 turn up. But, Mar- tha, I 'vo rather a bright thought, for a wonder ; what if we could bring Alf. Barton into the plot, and git him to help us for the sake o' his bein' helped ? " Martha looked surprised, but Gilbert flushed up to the nx>ts of his hair, and set his lips firmly together. " I dunno as it '11 do," continued Miss Betsy, with perfect indifference to these signs, " but then it might. First and foremost, we must try to find out what he wants, for it is n't you, Martha ; so you, Gilbert, might as well be a little more of a cowcumber than you are at this present moment But if it 's nothin' ag'inst the law, and not likely, for he 's too cute, we might even use a vessel well, not exackly o' wrath, but somethin' like it There 's more 'n one concern at work in all this, it strikes me, and it 's wuth while to know 'em all." Gilbert was ashamed of his sensitiveness in regard to Barton, especially after Martha's frank and merry confes- sion ; so he declared himself entirely willing to abide by her judgment. " It would not be pleasant to have Alfred Barton asso- ciated with us, even in the way of help," she said. " I have a woman's curiosity to know what he means, I confess; but, unless Betsy could make the discovery without me, I would not take any steps towards it" u Much would be fittin' to me, child," said Miss Laven- der, " that would n't pass for you, at all. We 've got six weeks till Gilbert comes back, and no need o' hurry, ex- cept our arrand to Polly Withers's, which '11 come to noth- in', unless you each take leave of other mighty quick, while I 'm lookin' for some more wiiitcnrrcen." 190 THE STORY OF KENNETT. With these words she turned short around and strode away. u It had best be our own secret yet, Martha ? " he asked " Yes, Gilbert, and all the more precious." They, clasped hands and kissed, once, twice, thrice, and then the underwood slowly deepened between them, and the shadows of the forest separated them from each other. THE STORY *F KENNETT. 191 CHAPTER XVILL SANDY FLASH REAPPEARS. DURING the month of October, while Gilbert Porter wu occupied with his lonely and monotonous task, he had am- ple leisure to evolve a clear, calm, happy purpose from the tumult of his excited feelings. This was, first, to accom- plish his own independence, which now seemed inevitably necessary, for his mother's sake, and its possible conse- quences to her ; then, strong in the knowledge of Martha Deanc's fidelity, to wait with her. With the exception of a few days of rainy weather, his hauling prospered, and he returned home after five weeks' absence, to count up the gains of the year and find that very little was lacking of the entire amount to be paid. Mary Potter, as the prospect of release drew so near, became suddenly anxious and restless. The knowledge that a very large sum of money (as she considered it) was in the house, filled her with a thousand new fears. There were again rumors of Sandy Flash lurking around Marl- borough, and she shuddered and trembled whenever his name was mentioned. Her uneasiness became at last so great that Gilbert finally proposed writing to the conveyan- cer in Chester who held the mortgage, and asking whether the money might not as well be paid at once, since he had it in hand, as wait until the following spring. " It 's not the regular way," said she, " but then, I sup- pose it '11 hold in law. You can ask Mr. Trainer about that. O Gilbert, if it can be done, it '11 take a great load off my mind ! " u Whatever puts the mortgage into my hands, mother," 192 THE STORY OF KENNET1. said be, " is legal enough for us. I need n't even wait to sell the grain ; Mark Deane will lend me the seventy-five dollars still to be made up, if he has them or, if he can't, somebody else will. I was going to the Square this evening ; so I '11 write the letter at once, and put it in the office." The first thing Gilbert did, on reaching the village, was to post the letter in season for the mail-rider, who went once a week to and fro between Chester and Peach-bottom Ferry, on the Susquehanna. Then he crossed the street to Dr. Deanc's, in order to inquire for Mark, but with the chief hope of seeing Martha for one sweet moment, at least In this, however, he was disappointed ; as ho reached the gate, Mark issued from the door. "Why, Gilbert, old boy!" he shouted; "the sight o' you 's good for sore eyes ! What have you been about since that Sunday evening we rode up the west branch ? I was jist steppin' over to the tavern to see the fellows come along, and have a glass o' Rye ! " He threw his heavy arm over Gilbert's shoulder, and drew him along. u In a minute, Mark ; wait a bit I 've a little matter of business with you. I need to borrow seventy-five dol- lars for a month or six weeks, until my wheat is sold. Have you that much that you 're not using ? " " That and more comin' to me soon," said Mark, " and of course you can have it. Want it right away ? " " Very likely in ten or twelve days." " Oh, well, never fear I '11 have some accounts squared by that time ! Come along ! " And therewith the good- natured fellow hurried his friend into the bar-room of the Unicorn. " Done pretty well, haulin', this time ? " asked Mark, as they touched glasses. " Very well," answered Gilbert, " seeing it 's the lut time. I 'in at an end with hauling now." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 193 "You don't say so? Here's to your good luck! "ex- claimed Mark, emptying his glass. A man, who had been tilting his chair against the wall, >n the farther corner of the room, now arose and came for- ward. It was Alfred Barton. During Gilbert's absence, neither this gentleman's plan nor that of his father, had made much progress. It was tolerably easy, to be sure, to give the old mrm the impres- sion that the preliminary arrangements with regard to money were going on harmoniously ; but it was not so easy to procure Dr. Deane's acceptance of the part marked out for him. Alfred had sought an interview with the latter soon after that which he had had with Martha, and the result was not at all satisfactory. The wooer had been obliged to declare that his suit was unsuccessful ; but, he believed, only temporarily so. Martha had been taken by surprise ; the question had come upon her so suddenly that she could scarcely be said to know her own mind, and time must be allowed her. Although this statement seemed probable to Dr. Deane, as it coincided with his own expe- rience in previously sounding his daughter's mind, yet Al- fred's evident anxiety that nothing should be said to Martha upon the subject, ^ad that the Doctor should assume to his father that the question of balancing her legacy was as good as settled, (then proceed at once to the discussion of the second and more important question,) excited the Doc- tor's suspicions. He could not well avoid giving the re- quired promise in relation to Martha, but he insisted on seeing the legal evidences of Alfred Barton's property, be- fore going a step further. The latter was therefore in a state of great perplexity. The game he was playing seemed safe enough, so far, but nothing had come of it, and beyond this point it could not be carried, without great increase of risk. He was more than once tempted to drop it entirely, confessing his com- plete and final rejection, and allowing his father to take u 194 VHE STOKF OF KENNETT. what course he pleased; but presently the itching of his avaricious curiosity returned in full force, and suggested new expedients. No suspicion of Gilbert Potter's relation to Martha Deane had ever entered his mind. He had always had a liking for the young man, and would, no doubt, have done him any good service which did not require the use of money. He now came forward very cordially and shook hands with the two. Gilbert had self-possession enough to control his first im- pulse, and to meet his rival with his former manner. Se- cure in his own fortune, he even felt that he could afford to be magnanimous, and thus, by degrees, the dislike wore off which Martha's confession had excited. u What is all this talk about Sandy Flash ? " he asked. " He 's been seen up above," said Barton ; " some say, about Marlborough, and some, along the Strasburg road. He '11 hardly come this way ; he 's too cunning to go where the people are prepared to receive him." If either of the three had happened to look steadily at the back window of the bar-room, they might have detected, in the dusk, the face of Dougherty, the Irish ostler of the Unicorn Tavern. It disappeared instantly, but there was a crack nearly half an inch wide between the bottom of the back-door and the sill under it, and to that cracK a large, flat ear was laid. " If he comes any nearer, you must send word around at once," said Gilbert, " not wait until he 's already among us." " Let me alone for that ! " barton exclaimed ; " Damn him, I only wish he had pluck enough to come ! " Mark was indignant. " What 's the sheriff and con- O stables good for ? " he cried. " It 's a burnin' shame that the whole country has been plundered so long, and the fellow still runnin' at large. Much he cares for *.he five hundred dollars 011 his head." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 193 " It 's a thousand, now," said Barton. " They '\c doubled it." " Come, that 'd be a good haul for us. We 're not bound to keep inside of our township ; I 'in for an up and down chase, all over the country, as soou as the fall work 's over ! " " And I, too," said Gilbert u You 're fellows after my own heart, both o' you ! " Bar- ton asserted, slapping them upon the back. "What '11 you take to drink ? " By this time several others had assembled, and the con- versation became general. While the flying rumors about Sandy Flash were being produced and discussed, Barton drew Gilbert aside. " Suppose we step out on the back-porch," he said, " I want to have a word with you." The door closed between them and the noisy bar-room. There was a rustling noise under the porch, as of a fowl disturbed on its roost, and then everything was still. " Your speaking of your having done well by hauling put it into my head, Gilbert," Barton continued. "I wanted to borrow a little money for a while, and there 's reasons why I should n't call upon anybody who 'd tell of it Now, as you 've got it, lying idle " "It happens to be just the other way, Barton," said Gil- bert, interrupting him. " I came here to-night to borrow." " How 's that ? " Barton could not help asking, with a momentary sense of chagrin. But the next moment he added, in a milder tone, " I don't mean to pry into your business." - 1 shall very likely have to use my money soon," Gil- bert explained, " and must at least wait until I hear from Chester. That will be another week, and then, if the money should not be wanted, I can accommodate you. But, to tell you the truth, I dont think there 's much chance of that" 196 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Shall you have to go down to Chester ? " I hope so," "When?" " In ten or twelve days from now." "Then," said Barton, "I'll fix it this way. Tisn'i on.y the money I want, but to have it paid in Chester, without the old man or Stacy knowing anything of the uatter. If I was to go myself, Stacy 'd never rest till he found out my business Faith ! I believe if I was hid in the hayloft o' the William Penn Tavern, he 'd scent me out. Now, I can get the money of another fellow I know, if you '11 take it down and hand it over for me. Would you be that obliging?" " Of course," Gilbert answered. " If I go it will be no additional trouble." " All right," said Barton, " between ourselves, you un- derstand." A week later, a letter, with the following address was brought to the post-office by the mail-rider, To Mr. Gilbert Potter, Esq n Kcnnett Square P. 0. TJicse, icith Care and Speed" Gilbert, having carefully cut around the wafer and un- folded the sheet of strong yellowish paper, read this mis- sive, "Sm: Y r resp d favour of y* 1 11 th came duly to hand, And y proposition w h it contains has been submitted to M- Jones, y e present houldcr of y e mortgage. He wishes me to inform you that he did not anticipate y e payment before y* first clay of April,' 1797, w h was y term agreed upon at. y e payment of y c first note ; nevertheless, being 1 This form of the article, (hough in pcnnral disuse at the time, was stil frequently employed in epistolary writing, iu that part of Pennsylvania. THE STOEY OF KENNETT. 197 required to accept full and lawful payment, whensoever tendered, he hath im powered me to receive y e moneys at y r convenience, providing y* settlement be full and com- pleat, as aforesaid, and not merely y e payment of a part or portion thereof. "Y'ob'tscrv't, " ISAAC TRAINEE." Gilbert, with his limited experience of business matters, had entirely overlooked the fact, that the permission of the creditor is not necessary to the payment of a debt He had a profound respect for all legal forms, and his indebted- ness carried with it a sense of stern and perpetual respon- sibility, which, alas ! has not always been inherited by the descendants of that simple and primitive period. Mary Potter received the news with a sigh of relief. The money was again counted, the interest which would be due somewhat laboriously computed, and finally noth- ing remained but the sum which Mark Deane had prom- ised to furnish. This Mark expected to receive on the following Wednesday, and Gilbert and his mother agreed that the journey to Chester should be made at the close of the same week. They went over these calculations in the quiet of the Sabbath afternoon, sitting alone in the neat, old-fashioned kitchen, with the dim light of an Indian-summer sun strik- ing through the leafless trumpet-vines, and making a quaint network of light and shade on the whitewashed window- o frame. The pendulum ticked drowsily along the opposite wall, and the hickory back-log on the hearth hummed a lamentable song through all its simmering pores of sap. Peaceful as the happy landscape without, dozing in dreams of the departed summer, cheery as the tidy household signs within, seemed at last the lives of the two inmates. Mary Potter had not asked how her son's wooing had further sped, but she felt that he was contented of heart ; she, too, 198 THE STORY OF KENNETT. indulging finally in the ncai consummation of her . which touched her like the pitying- sympathy of tho Power that had dealt so singularly with her life, was nearer the feeling of happiness than she had been for long and weary years. Gilbert was moved by the serenity of her face, and the trouble, which he knew it concealed, seemed, to his mind, to be wearing away. Carefully securing the doors, they walked over the fields together, pausing on the hill- top to listen to the caw of the gathering crows, or to watch the ruby disc of the bcamlcss sun stooping to touch the western rim of the valley. Many a time had they thus gone over the farm together, but never before with such a sense of peace and security. The day was removed, mysteriously, from the circle of its fellows, and set apart by a peculiar influence which prevented either from ever forgetting it, during all the years that came after. They were not aware that at the very moment this in- fluence was profoundest in their hearts, new rumors of Sandy Flash's movements had reached Kennett Square, and were being excitedly discussed at the Unicorn Tavern. He had been met on the Street Road, riding towards the Red Lion, that very afternoon, by a man who knew his face ; and, later in the evening came a second report, that an individual of his build had crossed the Philadelphia Road, this side of the Anvil, and gone southward into the woods. Many were the surmises, and even detailed ac- counts, of robberies that either had been or might be com- mitted, but no one could say precisely how much was true. Mark Deane was not at home, and the blacksmith was commissioned to summon Alfred Barton, who had ridden over to Pennsbury, on a friendly visit to Mr. Joel Ferris When he finally made his appearance, towards ten o'clock, he was secretly horror-stricken at the great danger he had escaped ; but it gave him an admirable opportunity to swagger. lie could do no less than promise to summon THE STORY OF KEXNETT. 199 the volunteers in the morning, and provision was made accordingly, for despatching as many messengers as the village could afford. O Since the British occupation, nearly twenty years before. Kennett Square had not known as lively a day as thai which followed. The men and boys were in the street, grouped in front of the tavern, the women at the windows, watching, some with alarmed, but many with amused faces. Sally Fairthorn. although it was washing-day, stole up through Dr. Deane's garden and into Martha's room, for at least half an hour, but Joe and Jake left their over- turned shocks of corn unhusked for the whole day. Some of the young farmers to whom the message had been sent, returned answer that they were very busy and could not leave their work ; the horses of others were lame , the guns of others broken. By ten o'clock, however, there were nine volunteers, very irregularly armed and- mounted, in attendance ; by eleven o'clock, thirteen, and Alfred Bar- ton, whose place as leader was anything but comfortable, began to swell with an air of importance, and set about examining the guns of his command. Neither he nor any one else noticed particularly that the Irish ostler appeared to be a great connoisseur in muskets, and was especially interested in the structure of the flints and pans. " Let 's look over the roll, and see how many are true blue," said Barton, drawing a paper from his pocket. " There 's failing nine or ten, among 'em some I fully counted on Withers, he may come yet ; Ferris, hardly time to get word ; but Carson, Potter, and Travilla ought to turn up curst soon, or we '11 have the sport \vithout 'em ! " " Give me a horse, Mr. Barton, and I '11 ride down for Gilbert ! " cried Joe Fairthorn. "No use, Giles went this morning," growled Barton. " It 's time we were starting ; which road would be best to take ? " asked one of the volunteers. " All roads lead to Rome, but all don't lead to Sandj 200 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Flash, ha ! ha . " said another, laughing al his own smart ness. " Who knows where he was seen last ? " Barton asked, but it was not easy to get a coherent answer. One had heard one report, and another another ; he had heen seen from the Street Road on the north all the way around eastward hy the Red Lion and the Anvil, and in the rocky glen below the Barton farm, to the lime-quarries of Tuff- kenamon on the west " Unless we scatter, it '11 be like looking for a needle in a haystack," remarked one of the more courageous vol- unteers. " If they 'd all had spunk enough to come," said Barton, " we might ha' made four parties, and gone out on each road. As it is, we 're only strong enough for two." " Seven to one ? that 's too much odds in Sandy's favor ! " cried a light-headed youth, whereat the others all laughed, and some of them blushed a little. Barton bit his lip, and with a withering glance at the young man, replied, " Then we '11 make three parties, and you shall be the third." Another quarter of an hour having elapsed, without any accession to the troop, Barton reluctantly advised the men to get their arms, which had been carelessly placed along the tavern-porch, and to mount for the chase. Just then Joe and Jake Fairthorn, who had been dodg- ing back and forth through the village, watching the roads, made their appearance with the announcement, " Hurray there 's another comin* up from below, but it a'n't Gilbert. He 's stuck full o' pistols, but he 'a a-foot, and you must git him a horse. I tell you, he looks like a real buster ! " " Who can it be ? " asked Barton. " "We '11 see, in a minute," said the nearest volunteer^ taking up their muskets. " There he is, there he is I " cried Joe. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 201 All eyes, turned towards the crossing of the roads, be- held, just rounding the corner-house, fifty paces distant, a short, broad-shouldered, determined figure, making di- rectly for the tavern. His face was red and freckled, his thin lips half-parted with a grin which showed the flash of white teeth between them, and his eyes sparkled with the light of a cold, fierce courage. He had a double-barrelled musket on his shoulder, and there were four pistols in the tight leathern belt about his waist Barton turned deadly pale as he beheld this man. An astonished silence fell upon the group, but, the next mo- ment, some voice exclaimed, in an undertone, which, nev- ertheless, every one heard, " By the living Lord ! Sandy Flash himself! " There was a general confused movement, of which Al- fred Barton took advantage to partly cover his heavy body by one of the porch-pillars. Some of the volunteers started back, others pressed closer together. The pert youth, alone, who was to form the third party, brought his mus- ket to his shoulder. Quick as lightning Sandy Flash drew a pistol from his belt and levelled it at the young man's breast " Ground arms ! " he cried, " or you are a dead man." He was obeyed, although slowly and with grinding teeth. " Stand aside ! " he then commanded. " You have pluck, and I should hate to shoot you. Make way, the rest o' ye ! I 've saved ye the trouble o' ridin' far to find me. Whoever puts finger to trigger, falls. Back, back, I say, and open the door for me ! " Still advancing as he spoke, and shifting his pistol so as to cover now one, now another of the group, he reached the tavern-porch. Some one opened the door of the bar- room, which swung inwards. The highwayman strode directly to the bar, and there stood, facing the open door, while he cried to the trembling bar-keeper, "A glass o' Rye, good and strong 1 " 202 THE STORY OF KENNETT. It was set before him. Holding the musket in his arm, he took the glass, drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, spinning a silver dollar into the air said, as it rang upon the floor, "7 stand treat to-day ; let the rest o' the gentlemen drink at my expense ! " He then walked out, and slowly retreated backwards towards the corner-house, covering his retreat with the levelled pistol, and the flash of his dauntless eye. Pic had nearly reached the corner, when Gilbert Potter dashed up behind him, with Roger all in a foam. Joe Fairthorn, seized with deadly terror when he heard the terrible name, had set off at full speed for home ; but de- scrying Gilbert approaching on a gallop, changed his course, met the latter, and gasped out the astounding intelligence. All this was the work of a minute, and when Gilbert reached the corner, a single glance showed him the true state of affairs. The confused group in front of the tavern, some faces sallow with cowardice, some red with indigna- tion and shame ; the solitary, retreating figure, alive in every nerve with splendid courage, told him the whole story, which Joe's broken words had only half hinted. Flinging himself from his horse, he levelled his musket, and cried out, " Surrender ! " Sandy Flash, with a sudden spring, placed his back against the house, pointed his pistol at Gilbert, and said : " Drop your gun, or I fire ! " For answer, Gilbert drew the trigger ; the crack of the explosion rang sharp and clear, and a little shower of mor- tar covered Sandy Flash's cocked hat The ball had struck the wall about four inches above his head. He leaped forward ; Gilbert clubbed his musket and awaited him. They were scarcely two yards apart ; the highwayman's pistol - barrel was opposite Gilbert's heart, and the two men were looking into each other's eyea THE STORY OF KENXETT. 203 The group in front of the tavern stood as if paralyzed, every man holding his breath. Halt ! " said Sandy Flash. " Halt ! I hate bloodshed and besides that, young Potter, you 're not the man tlu.c '11 take me prisoner. I could blow your brains out by movin 1 tli is finger, but you 're safe from any bullet o' mine, who- ever a'n't ! " At the last words a bright, mocking, malicious grin stole over his face. Gilbert, amazed to find himself known to the highwayman, and puzzled witli certain familiar marks in the latter's countenance, was swiftly enlightened by this grin. It was Fortune's face before him, without the black hair and whiskers, and Fortune's voice that spoke ! Sandy Flash saw the recognition. He grinned again. " You '11 know your friend, another time," he said, sprang five feet backward, whirled, gained the cover of the house, and was mounting his horse among the bushes at the bot- tom of the garden, before any of the others reached Gil- bert, who was still standing as if thunder-struck. By this time Sandy Flash had leaped the hedge and was careering like lightning towards the shelter of the woods. The interest now turned upon Gilbert Potter, who was very taciturn and thoughtful, and had little to relate. They noticed, however, that his eyes were turned often and inquiringly upon Alfred Barton, and that the latter as steadily avoided meeting them. When Gilbert went to bring Roger, who had quietly waited at the crossing of the roads, Deb. Smith suddenly made her appearance. " I seen it all," she said. " I was a bit up the road, but I seen it You should n't ha' shot, Mr. Gilbert, though it is n't him that 's born to be hit with a bullet ; but you 're safe enough from his bullets, anyhow whatever happens, you 're safe ! " u What do you mean, Deborah ? " he exclaimed, as sh<9 almost repeated to him Sandy Flash's very words. 204 THE STORY OF KENNETT. "I mean what I say," she answered. " You vrould n't be afcard, but it '11 be a comfort to your mother. I mus* have a drink o' whiskey after that sight." With these words she elbowed her way into the bar- room. Most of the Kennett Volunteers weie there en- gaged in carrying out a similar resolution. They would gladly have kept the whole occurrence secret, but that was impossible. It was known all over the country, in three days, and the story of it has not yet died out of the local annals. THE STORY OF KENNETT. JM>4 CHAPTER XIX. THE HUSKING FROLIC. JAKE FAIRTHOBN rushed into Dr. Deane s Joor with howl of terror. " Cousin Martha ! Betsy ! " he cried ; u he 's goiu' to shoot Gilbert ! " " None o' your tricks, boy ! " Betsy Lavender exclaimed, in her most savage tone, as she saw the paleness of Mar- tha's face. " I 'm up to 'em. Who 'd shoot Gilbert Pot- ter ? Not Alf Barton, I '11 be bound ; he 'd be afeard to shoot even Sandy Flash ! " " It 's Sandy Flash, he 's there ! Gilbert shot his hat off ! " cried Jake. " The Lord have mercy ! " And the next minute Miss Betsy found herself, she scarcely knew how, in the road. Both had heard the shot, but supposed that it was some volunteer discharging an old load from his musket ; they knew nothing of Sandy's visit to the Unicorn, and Jake's announcement seemed simply incredible. " you wicked boy ! What '11 become o' you ? " cried Miss Lavender, as she beheld Gilbert Potter approaching, leading Roger by the bridle. But at the same instant she saw, from the faces of the crowd, that something unusual had happened. While the others instantly surrounded Gilbert, the young volunteer who alone had made any show of fight, told the story to the two ladies. Martha Deane's momentary shock of terror disappeared under the rush of mingled pride and scorn which the narrative called up in her heart. 206 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " What a pack of cowards ! " she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing, " to stand still and see the life of the only man that dares to face a robber at the mercy of the robber's pistol ! " Gilbert approached. His face was grave and thoughtful, but his eye brightened as it met hers. No two hands ever conveyed so many and such swift messages as theirs, in thp single moment when they touched each other. The othei women of the village crowded around, and he was obliged, though with evident reluctance, to relate his share in the event In the mean time the volunteers had issued from the tavern, and were loudly discussing what course to pursue. The most of them were in favor of instant pursuit. To their credit it must be said that very few of them were act- ual cowards ; they had been both surprised by the incred- ible daring of the highwayman, and betrayed by the cow- ardly inefficiency of their own leader. Barton, restored to his usual complexion by two glasses of whiskey, was nearly ready to head a chase which he suspected would come to nothing; but the pert young volunteer, who had been whispering with some of the younger men, suddenly cried out, " I say, fellows, we 've had about enough o' Barton's com- mand ; and I, for one, am a-goin* to enlist under Captain Potter." " Good ! " " Agreed ! " responded a number of others, and some eight or ten stepped to one side. The few re- maining around Alfred Barton began to look doubtful, and all eyes were turned curiously upon him. Gilbert, however, stepped forward and said : " It 's bad policy to divide our forces just now, when we ought to be off on the hunt Mr. Barton, we all know, got up the coro pany, and I am willing to serve under him, if he '11 order us to mount at once ! If not, rather than lose more 1 11 head as many as are ready to go." THE STORY OF KENNETT. W) Barton saw how the tide was turning, and suddenly de- termined to cover up his shame, if possible, with a mantle of magnanimity. " The fellows are right, Gilbert ! " he said. " You deserve to take the lead to-day, so go ahead ; I '11 follow you ! " " Mount, then, all of you ! " Gilbert cried, without further hesitation. In a second he was on Roger's back. " You, Barton," he ordered, " take three with you and make for the New-Garden cross-road as fast as you can. Pratt, you and three more towards the Hammer-and-Trowel ; while I, with the rest, follow the direct trail." No more time was wasted in talking. The men took their guns and mounted, the two detached commands were told off, and in five minutes the village was left to its own inhabitants. Gilbert had a long and perplexing chase, but very little came of it. The trail of Sandy Flash's horse was followed without much difficulty until it struck the west branch of Redley Creek. There it suddenly ceased, and more than an hour elapsed before some one discovered it, near the road, a quarter of a mile further up the stream. Thence it turned towards the Hammer-and-Trowel, but no one at the farm-houses on the road had seen any one pass except a Quaker, wearing the usual broad-brimmed hat and drab coat, and mounted on a large, sleepy-looking horse. About the middle of the afternoon, Gilbert detected, in one of the lanes leading across to the Street Road, the marks of a galloping steed, and those who had a little lin- gering knowledge of wood-craft noticed that the gallop often ceased suddenly, changed to a walk, and was then as suddenly resumed. Along the Street Road no one had been seen except a Quaker, apparently the same person. Gilbert and his hunters now suspected the disguise, but the difficulty of following the trail had increased with every hour of lost time ; and after scouring along the Brandywine and then crossing into the Pocopsin valley, they finally 208 THE STORY OF KENNETT.' gave up the chase, late in the day. It was the general opinion that Sandy had struck northward, and was p/oba bly safe in one of his lairs among the Welch Mountains. When they reached the Unicorn tavern at dusk, Gilbert found Joe Fairthorn impatiently waiting for him. Sally had been " tearin' around like mad," (so Joe described ?\is sister's excitement,) having twice visited the village during the afternoon in the hope of seeing the hero of the day after Sandy Flash, of course, who had, and deserved, the 6rst place. " And, Gilbert," said Joe, " I was n't to forgit to tell you that we 're a-goin' to have a huskin' frolic o' Wednesday night, day after to-morrow, you know. Dad 's behind- hand with huskin', and the moon 's goin' to be full, and Mark he said Let 's have a frolic, and I 'm comin' home to meet Gilbert anyhow, and so I '11 be there. And Sally she said I '11 have Martha and lots o' girls, only we shan't come out into the field till you 're nigh about done. Then Mark he said That won't take long, and if you don't help me with my shocks I won't come, and Sally she hit him, and so it 'a all agreed. And you '11 come, Gilbert, won't you ? " " Yes, yes, Joe," Gilbert answered, a little impatiently , "tell Sally I '11 come." Then he turned Roger's head towards home. He was glad of the solitary ride which allowed him to collect his thoughts. Fearless as was his nature, the dan- ger he had escaped might well have been cause for grave self-congratulation ; but the thought of it scarcely lingered beyond the moment of the encounter. The astonishing discovery that the stranger, Fortune, and the redoubtable Sandy Flash were one and the same person; the mysteri- ous words which this person had addressed to him ; the repetition of the same words by Deb. Smith, all these facts, suggesting, as their common solution, some secret which concerned himself, perplexed his mind, already mow than sufficiently occupied with mystery. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 209 It suddenly flashed across his memory, as he rode home- ward, that on the evening when he returned from the fox- chase, his mother had manifested an unusual interest in the strange huntsman, questioning him minutely as to the tat- ter's appearance. Was she or, rather, had she been, at one time of her life acquainted with Sandy Flash ? And if so " No ! " he cried aloud, " it is impossible ! It could not cannot be ! " The new possibility which assailed him was even more terrible than his previous belief in the dis- honor of his birth. Better, a thousand times, he thought, be basely born than the son of an outlaw ! It seemed that every attempt he made to probe his mother's secret threat- ened to overwhelm him with a knowledge far worse than the fret of his ignorance. Why not be patient, therefore, leaving the solution to her and to time ? Nevertheless, a burning curiosity led him to relate to his mother, that evening, the events of the day. He watched her closely as he described his encounter with the highway- man, and repeated the latter's words. It was quite natural that Mary Potter should shudder and turn pale during the recital - quite natural that a quick expression of relief should shine from her face at the close ; but Gilbert could not be sure that her interest extended to any one except himself. She suggested no explanation of Sandy Flash's words, and he asked none. " I shall know no peace, child," she said, " until the money has been paid, and the mortgage is in your hands." " You won't have long to wait, now, mother," he an- swered cheerily. " I shall see Mark on Wednesday even- ing, and therefore can start for Chester on Friday, come rain or shine. As for Sandy Flash, he 's no doubt up on the Welch Mountain by this time. It is n't his way to turn up twice in succession, in the same place." " You don't know him, Gilbert. He won't soon forget that you shot at him." 14 210 THE STORY OF RENNETT. " I seem to be safe enough, if he tells the truth," Gilbert could not help remarking. Mary Potter shook her head, and said nothing. Two more lovely Indian-summer days went by, and as the wine-red sun slowly quenched his lower limb in the denser smoke along the horizon, the great bronzed moon struggled out of it, on the opposite rim of the sky. It was a weird light and a weird atmosphere, such as we might imagine overspreading Babylonian ruins, on the lone plain? of the Euphrates ; but no such fancies either charmed 01 tormented the lusty, wide-awake, practical lads and lasses, whom the brightening moon beheld on their way to the Fairthorn farm. "The best night for huskin* that ever was," comprised the sum of their appreciation. At the old farm-house there was great stir of prepara- tion. Sally, with her gown pinned up, dodged in and out of kitchen and sitting-room, catching herself on every door-handle, while Mother Fairthorn, beaming with quiet content, stood by the fire, and inspected the great kettles which were to contain the materials for the midnight sup- per. Both were relieved when Betsy Lavender made her appearance, saying, " Let down your gownd, Sally, and give me that ladle. What 'd be a mighty heap o' work for you, in that flustered condition, is child's-play to the likes o' me, that 's as steady as a cart-horse, not that self-praise, as the sayin' is, is any recommendation, but my kickin' and prancin' days is over, and high time, too." " No, Betsy, I '11 not allow it ! " cried Sally. " You musl enjoy yourself, too." But she had parted with the ladle while speaking, and Miss Lavender, repeating the words u Enjoy yourself, too ! " quietly took her place in the kitchen. The young men, as they arrived, took their way to the corn-field, piloted by Joe and Jake Fairthorn. These boys each carried a wallet over his shoulders, the jug in the front THE STORY OF KENNETT. 211 end balancing that behind, and the only casualty that oc- curred was when Jake, jumping down from a fence, allowed his jugs to smite together, breaking one of them to shivers. " There, that '11 come out o' your pig-money," said Joe. " I don't care," Jake retorted, " if daddy only pays me the rest" The boys, it must be known, received every year the two smallest pigs of the old sow's litter, with the understand- ing that these were to be their separate property, on condi- tion of their properly feeding and fostering the whole herd. This duty they performed with great zeal and enthusiasm, and numberless and splendid were the castles which they built with the coming money ; yet, alas ! when the pigs were sold, it always happened that Farmer Fairthorn found some inconvenient debt pressing him, and the boys' pig- money was therefore taken as a loan, only as a loan, and permanently invested. There were between three and four hundred shocks tu husk, and the young men, armed with husking-pegs of hick- ory, fastened by a leathern strap over the two middle fin- gers, went bravely to work. Mark Deane, who had reached home that afternoon, wore the seventy-five dollars in a buck- skin belt around his waist, and anxiously awaited the arrival of Gilbert Potter, of whose adventure he had already heard Mark's presumed obligations to Alfred Barton prevented him from expressing his overpowering contempt for that gentleman's conduct, but he was not obliged to hold his tongue about Gilbert's pluck and decision, and he did not The latter, detained at the house by Mother Fairthorn and Sally, both of whom looked upon him as one arisen from the dead, did not reach the field until the others had selected their rows, overturned the shocks, and were seated in a rustling line, in the moonlight " Gilbert ! " shouted Mark, " come here ! I Ve kep' the row next to mine, for you ! And I want to get a grip cf your hand, my bold boy I " 112 THE STORY OF KENNETT. He sprang up, flinging an armful of stalks behind him, and with difficulty restrained an impulse to clasp Gilbert tc his broad breast It was not the custom of the neighbor- hood ; the noblest masculine friendship would have beer described by the people in no other terms than " They are very thick," and men who loved each other were accus- tomed to be satisfied with the knowledge. The strong moonlight revealed to Gilbert Potter the honest heart which looked out of Mark's blue eyes, as the latter held hi? hand like a vice, and said, "I 've heard all about it." " More than there was occasion for, very likely," Gilber . replied. " I '11 tell you my story some day, Mark ; but to- night we must work and not talk." " All right, Gilbert. I say, though, I 've got the monej you wanted ; we '11 fix the matter after supper." The rustling of the corn-stalks recommenced, and the tented lines of shocks slowly fell as the buskers worked their way over the brow of the hill, whence the ground sloped down into a broad belt of shade, cast by the woods in the bottom. Two or three dogs which had accompanied their masters coursed about the field, or darted into the woods in search of an opossum-trail. Joe and Jake Fair- thorn would gladly have followed them, but were afraid of venturing into the mysterious gloom; so they amused themselves with putting on the coats which the men had iirown aside, and gravely marched up and down the line, commending the rapid and threatening the tardy workers. Erelong, the silence was broken by many a shout of ex- ultation or banter, many a merry sound of jest or fun, aa the back of the night's task was fairly broken. One busker mimicked the hoot of an owl in the thickets below ; an- other sang a melody popular at the time, the refrain of which was, " Be it late or early, be it late or soon, it 'a I will enjoy the sweet rose in June I ** f HE STORY OF KENNETT. 219 " Sing out, boys ! " shouted Mark, " so the gi rls can heai you ! It 's time they were comin' to look after us." " Sing, yourself! " some one replied. " You can out-bel- low the whole raft." Without more ado, Mark opened his mouth and began chanting, in a ponderous voice, " On yonder mountain summit My castle you will find, Renown'd in ann-cient historee, My name it 's Rinardine ! " Presently, from the upper edge of the wood, several fern inine voices were heard, singing another part of the same song: " Beware of meeting Rinar, All on the mountains high ! " Such a shout of fun ran over the field, that the frighted owl ceased his hooting in the thicket. The moon stood high, and turned the night-haze into diffused silver. Though the hollows were chill with gathering frost, the air was still mild and dry on the hills, and the young ladies, in their warm gowns of home-made flannel, enjoyed both the splen- dor of the night and the lively emulation of the scattered laborers. " Turn to, and give us a lift, girls," said Mark. " Beware of meeting Rinar ! " Sally laughed. " Because you know what you promised him, Sally," he retorted. " Come, a bargain 's a bargain ; there 's the out- side row standin' not enough of us to stretch all the way acrost the field so let 's you and me take that and bring it down square with th' others. The rest may keep my row a-goin', if they can." Two or three of the other maidens had cut the support- ing stalks of the next shock, and overturned it with much laughing. " I can't husk, Mark," said Martha Deane, " but I '11 promise to superintend these, if you will keep Sally to her word." 214 THE STORY OF KENNKTT. There was a little running hither and thither, a show of fight, a mock scramble, and it ended by Sally tumbling over a pumpkin, and then being carried off by Mark to the end of the outside row of shocks, some distance in the rear of the line of work. Here he laid the stalks straight for her, doubled his coat and placed it on the ground for a seat, and then took his place on the other side of the shock. Sally husked a few ears in silence, but presently found it more agreeable to watch her partner, as he bent to the labor, ripping the covering from each ear with one or two rapid motions, snapping the cob, and flinging the ear over his shoulder into the very centre of the heap, without turn- ing his head. When the shock was finished, there were five stalks on her side, and fifty on Mark's. He laughed at the extent of her help, but, seeing how bright and beautiful her face looked in the moonlight, how round and supple her form, contrasted with his own rough proportions, he added, in a lower tone, " Never mind the work, Sally I only wanted to have you with me." Sally was silent, but happy, and Mark proceeded to over- throw the next shock. When they were again seated face to face, he no longer bent so steadily over the stalks, but lifted his head now and then to watch the gloss of the moon on her black hair, and the mellow gleam that seemed to slide along her cheek and chin, playing with the shadows, as she moved. " Sally ! " he said at last, " you must ha' seen, over and over ag'in, that I like to be with you. Do you care for me, at all ? " She flushed and trembled a little as she answered, '< Yes, Mark, I do." He husked half a dozen ears rapidly, then looked up again and asked, " Do you care enough for me, Sally, to take me for good THE STORY OF KENNETT. 215 and all ? I can't put it into fine speech, but I love you dearly and honestly ; will you marry me ? " Sally bent down her head, so choked with the long-de- layed joy that she found it impossible to speak. Mark fin- ished the few remaining stalks and put them behind him ; he sat upon the ground at her feet "There 's my hand, Sally; will you take it, and me with u? Her hand slowly made its way into his broad, hard palm. Once the surrender expressed, her confusion vanished ; she lifted her head for his kiss, then leaned it on bis shoulder and whispered, " Oh, Mark, I 've loved you for ever and ever so long a time!" " Why, Sally, deary," said he, " that 's my case, too ; and I seemed to feel it in my bones that we was to be a pair ; only, you know, I had to get a foothold first. I could n't come to you with empty hands though, faith 1 there 's not much to speak of in 'em ! " " Never mind that, Mark, I 'm so glad you want me ! " And indeed she was ; why should she not, therefore, say so? M There 's no need o' broken sixpences, or true-lovers' knots, I guess," said Mark, giving her another kiss. ft I 'm a plain-spoken fellow, and when I say I want you for my wife, Sally, I mean it But we must n't be settin' here, with the row unhusked; that '11 never do. See if I don't make the ears spin ! And I guess you can help me a little now, can't you ? " With a jolly laugh, Mark picked up the corn-cutter and swung it above the next shock. In another instant it would have fallen, but a loud shriek burst out from the bundled stalks, and Joe Fairthorn crept forth on his hands and knees. The lovers stood petrified. " Why, you young devil I " exclaimed Mark, while the single word " JOE ' " which came 216 THE STORY OF KENNETT. from Sally's lips, contained the concentrated essence of thousand slaps. " Don't don't ! " whimpered Joe. " I HI not tell anj body, indeed I wont ! " " If you do," threatened Mark, brandishing the corn-cut ter, " it is n't your legs I shall cut off, but your head, even with the shoulders. What were you doin' in that shock ? " " I wanted to hear what you and Sally were sayin' tr each other. Folks said you two was a-courtin'," Joe an swered. The comical aspect of the matter suddenly struck Mark, and he burst into a roar of laughter. " Mark, how can you ? " said Sally, bridling a little. " Well, it 's all in the fam'ly, after all. Joe, tarnation scamp as he is, is long-headed enough to keep his mouth shut, rather than have people laugh at his relations eh, Joe ? " " I said I 'd never say a word," Joe affirmed, " and I won't. You see if. I even tell Jake. But I say, Mark, when you and Sally get married, will you be my uncle ? " "It depends on your behavior," Mark gravely answered, seating himself to husk. Joe magnanimously left the lovers, and pitched over the third shock ahead, upon which he began to husk with might and main, in order to help them out with their task. By the time the outside row was squared, the line had reached the bottom of the slope, where the air was chill, although the shadows of the forest had shifted from the field. Then there was a race among the huskers for the fence, the girls promising that he whose row was first husked out, should sit at the head of the table, and be called King of the Corn-field. The stalks rustled, the cobs snapped, the ears fell like a shower of golden cones, and amid much noise and merriment, not only the victor's row but all the others were finished, and Farmer Fairthorn'i field stood husked from end to end. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 817 Gilbert Potter had done his share of the work steadily, and as silently as the curiosity of the girls, still excited by his recent adventure, would allow. It was enough for him that he caught a chance word, now and then, from Martha. The emulation of the race with which the husking closed favored them, and he gladly lost a very fair chance of be- coming King of the Corn-field for the opportunity of ask- ing her to assist him in contriving a brief interview, on th way to the house. Where two work together to the same end, there is no doubt about the result, especially as, in this case, the com- pany preferred returning through the wood instead of cross- ing the open, high-fenced fields. When they found them- selves together, out of ear-shot of the others, Gilbert lost no time in relating the particulars of his encounter with Sandy Flash, the discover} 7 he had made, and the myste- rious assurance of Deb. Smith. Martha listened with the keenest interest " It is very, very strange." she said, " and the strangest of all is that he should be that man, Fortune. As for his words, I do not find them so singular. He has certainly the grandest courage, robber as he is, and he admires the same quality in you ; no doubt you made a favorable impression upon him on the day of the fox-chase ; and so, although you are hunting him down, he will not injure you, if he can help it. I find all that very natural, in a man of his nature." " But Deb. Smith ? " Gilbert asked. " That," said Martha, " is rather a curious coincidence, but nothing more. I think.- She is said to be a supersti- tious creature, and if you have ever befriended her, and you may have done so, Gilbert, without your good heart being aware of it, she thinks that her spells, or charms, or what not, will save you irom harm. No, I was wrong ; it is not so very strange, except Fortune's intimacy with Alfred Barton, which everybody was talking about at the time." 218 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Gilbert drew a deep breath of relief. How the darknesfl of his new fear vanished, in the light of Martha's calm, sensible words ! " How wonderfully you have guessed the truth ! " he cried. " So it is ; Deb. Smith thinks she is be- holden to me for kind treatment ; she blew upon my palm, in a mysterious way, and said she would stand by me in time of need ! But that about Fortune puzzles me. I can see that Barton is very shy of me since he thinks I 've made the discovery." " We must ask Betsy Lavender's counsel, there," said Martha. " It is beyond my depth." The supper smoked upon the table when they reached the farm-house. It had been well earned, and it was en- joyed, both in a physical and a social sense, to the very ex- tent of the guests' capacities. The King sat at the head of the table, and Gilbert Potter forced into that position by Mark at the foot. Sally Fairthorn insisted on per- forming her duty as handmaiden, although, as Betsy Lav- ender again and again declared, her room was better than her help. Sally's dark eyes fairly danced and sparkled ; her full, soft lips shone with a scarlet bloom ; she laughed with a wild, nervous joyousness, and yet rushed about haunted with a fearful dread of suddenly bursting into tears. Her ways were so wU known, however, that a little extra impulsiveness excited no surprise. Martha Deace was the only person who discovered what had taken place. As the girls were putting on their hats and cloaks in the bed-room, Sally drew her into the passage, kissed her a number of times with passionate vehemence, and then darted off without saying a word. Gilbert rode home through the splendid moonlight, in the small hours of the morning, with a light heart, and Mark's money-belt buckled around his waist FHE STORY OF KENNETT. 218 CHAPTER XX. aiLBERT ON THE ROAD TO CHESTER BEING now fully prepared to undertake his journey to Chester, Gilbert remembered his promise to Alfred Barton. As the subject had not again been mentioned between them, probably owing to the excitement produced by Sandy Flash's visit to Kennett Square, and its conse- quences, he felt bound to inform Barton of his speedy departure, and to renew his offer of service. He found the latter in the field, assisting Giles, who was hauling home the sheaves of corn-fodder in a harvest- wagon. The first meeting of the two men did not seem to be quite agreeable to either. Gilbert's suspicions had been aroused, although he could give them no definite form, and Barton shrank from any reference to what had now become a very sore topic. " Giles," said the latter, after a moment of evident em- barrassment, " I guess you may drive home with that load, and pitch it off ; I '11 wait for you here." When the rustling wain had reached a convenient dis- tance, Gilbert began, " I only wanted to say that I 'm going to Chester to- morrow." " Oh, yes ! " Barton exclaimed, " about that money ? I suppose you want all o' yours ? " "It's as I expected. But you said you could borrow elsewhere, and send it by me." " The fact is," said Barton, " that I 've both borrowed nd sent. I 'm obliged to you, all the same, Gilbert ; the 220 TH? STORY OF KENNETT. 7i ill 's as good as the deed, you know ; but I got the money from well, from a friend, who was about going down OP his own business, and so that stone killed both my birds. F ought to ha' sent you word, by rights." " Is your friend" Gilbert asked, " a safe and trusty man?" * Safe enough, I guess a little wild, at times, maybe ; but he 's not such a fool as to lose what he 'd never have a chance of getting again." " Then," said Gilbert, " it 's hardly likely that he 's the same friend you took such a fancy to, at the Hammer-and- Trowel, last spring ? " Alfred Barton started as if he had been shot, and a deep color spread over his face. His lower jaw slackened and his eyes moved uneasily from side to side. " Who who do you mean ? " he stammered. The more evident his embarrassment became, the more Gilbert was confirmed in his suspicion that there was some secret understanding between the two men. The thing seemed incredible, but the same point, he remembered had occurred to Martha Deane's mind, when she so readily explained the other circumstances. " Barton," he said, sternly, " you know very well whom I mean. What became of your friend Fortune ? Did n't you see him at the tavern, last Monday morning ? " " Y-yes oh, yes ! I know who he is now, the damned scoundrel ! I 'd give a hundred dollars to see him dance ppon nothing ! " He clenched his fists, and uttered a number of other oaths, which need not be repeated. His rage seemed sc real that Gilbert was again staggered. Looking at the heavy, vulgar face before him, the small, restless eyes, the large sensuous mouth, the forehead whose very extent, in contradiction to ordinary laws, expressed imbecility rather than intellect, it was impossible to associate great cunning and shrewdness with such a physiognomy. Every line, al THE STORY OF KENNETT. 221 that moment, expressed pain and exasperation. But Gil- bert felt bound to go a step further. " Barton," he said, " did n't you know who Fortune was, on that day ? " "N-no no! On that day NO! Blast me if I did !" " Not before you left him ? " u Well, I '11 admit that a suspicion of it came to me at the very last moment too late to be of any use. * But come, damme ! that 's all over, and what 's the good o' talking ? You tried your best to catch the fellow, too, but he was too much for you ! 'T is n't such an easy job, eh ? " This sort of swagger 'vas Alfred Barton's only refuge, when he was driven into a corner. Though some color still lingered in his face, he spread his shoulders with a bold, almost defiant air, and met Gilbert's eye with a steady gaze. The latter was not prepared to carry his examination further, although he was stiU far from being satisfied. " Come, come, Gilbert ! " Barton presently resumed, " I mean no offence. You showed yourself to be true blue, and you led the hunt as well as any man could ha' done ; but the very thought o' the fellow makes me mad, and 1 11 know no peace till he 's strung up. If I was your age, now ! A man seems to lose his spirit as he gets on in years, and I 'm only sorry you were n't made captain at the start, instead o' me. You shall be, from this time on j I won't take it again ! " " One thing I '11 promise you," said Gilbert, with a mean- ing look, " that I won't let him walk into the bar-room of the Unicorn, without hindrance." " I '11 bet you won't ! " Barton exclaimed. All / 'm afraid of is, that he won't try it again." " We '11 see ; this highway-robbery must have an end. I must now be going. Good-bye ! " "Good-bye, Gilbert; take care o' yourself!" said Bar- ton, in a very good humor, now that the uncomfortable in- 222 THE STORY OF KENNETT. terview was over. " And, I say," he added, " remember thai I stand ready to do you a good turn, whenever I can I " "Thank you!" responded Gilbert, as he turned Roger's head ; but he said to himself, " when all other friends fail, I may come to you, not sooner." The next morning showed signs that the Indian Sum- mer had reached its close. All night long the wind had moaned and lamented in the chimneys, and the sense of dread in the outer atmosphere crept into the house and weighed upon the slumbering inmates. There was a sound in the forest as of sobbing Dryads, waiting for the swift death and the frosty tomb. The blue haze of dreams which had overspread the land changed into an ashy, livid mist, dragging low, and clinging to the features of the landscape like a shroud to the limbs of a corpse. The time, indeed, had come for a change. It was the and of November ; and after a summer and autumn beau- tiful almost beyond parallel, a sudden and severe winter was generally anticipated. In this way, even the most ignorant field-hand recognized the eternal balance of Nature. Mary Potter, although the day had arrived for which she had so long and fervently prayed, could not shake off the depressing influence of the weather. After breakfast, when Gilbert began to make preparations for the journey, she found herself so agitated that it was with difficulty she could give him the usual assistance. The money, which was mostly in silver coin, had been sewed into tight rolls, and was now to be carefully packed in the saddle-bags ; the priming of the pistols was to be renewed, and the old, shrivelled covers of the holsters so greased, hammered out, and padded that they would keep the weapons dry in case of rain. Although Gilbert would reach Chester that even- ing, the distance being not more than twenty-four miles, the preparations, principally on account of his errand, were conducted with a grave and solemn sense of theif importance. TIIE STORY OF KENNETT. 223 When, finally, everything was in readiness, the sad- dle-bags so packed that the precious rolls could not rub or jingle ; the dinner of sliced bread and pork placed over them, in a folded napkin ; the pistols, intended more for show than use, thrust into the antiquated holsters ; and all these deposited and secured on Roger's back, Gilbert took his mother's hand, and said, " Good-bye, mother ! Don't worry, now, if I should n't jet back until late to-morrow evening ; I can't tell exactly how long the business will take." He had never looked more strong and cheerful. The tears came to Mary Potter's eyes, but she held them back oy a powerful effort. All she could say and her roice trembled in spite of herself was, " Good-bye, my boy ! Remember that I 've worked, and thought, and prayed, for you alone, and that I 'd do more I 'd do all, if I only could ! " His look said " I do not forget ! " He sat already in the saddle, and was straightening the folds of his heavy cloak so that it might protect his knees. The wind had arisen, and the damp mist was driving down the glen, mixed with scattered drops of a coming rain-storm. As he rode slowly away, Mary Potter lifted her eyes to the dense gray of the sky, darkening from moment to moment, listened to the murmur of the wind- over the wooded hills opposite, and clasped her hands with the appealing gesture which had now become habitual to her. " Two days more ! " she sighed, as she entered the house, " two days more of fear and prayer ! Lord forgive me that I am so weak of faith that I make myself trouble where I ought to be humble and thankful ! " Gilbert rode slowly, because he feared the contents of his saddle-bags would be disturbed by much jolting. Proof against wind and weather, he was not troubled by the at- mospheric signs, but rather experienced a healthy glow and exhilaration of the blood as the mist grew thicker and beaf 224 THE STORY OF KENNETT. upon ills face like the blown spray of a waterfall. By the time he had reached the Carson farm, the sky contracted to a low, dark arch of solid wet, in which there was no pasitive outline of cloud, and a dull, universal roar, shorn of all windy sharpness, hummed over the land. From the hill behind the farm-house, whence he could overlook the bottom-lands of Redley Creek, and easily descry, on a clear day, the yellow front of Dr. Deane's house in Kennett Square, he now beheld a dim twilight chaos, wherein more and more of the distance was blotted out. Yet still some spell held up the suspended rain, and the drops that fell seemed to be only the leakage of the airy cisterns before they burst The fields on either hand were deserted. The cattle huddled behind the stacks or crouched disconsolately in fence-corners. Here and there a farmer made haste to cut and split a supply of wood for his kitchen-fire, or mended the rude roof on which his pigs depended for shelter ; but all these signs showed how soon he intended to be snugly housed, to bide out the storm. It was a day of no uncertain promise. Gilbert confessed to himself, before he reached the Philadelphia road, that he would rather have chosen another day for the journey ; yet the thought of returning was farthest from his mind. Even when the rain, having created its little pools and sluices in every hollow of the ground, took courage, and multiplied its careering drops, and when the wet gtista tore open his cloak and tugged at his dripping hat, he cheerily shook the moisture from his cheeks and eyelashes, patted Roger's streaming neck, and whistled a bar or two of an old carol. There were pleasant hopes enough to occupy his mind, without dwelling on these slight external annoyances. He still tried to believe that his mother's release would be hastened by the independence which lay folded in hia saddle -bags, and the thud of the wet leather against Roger's hide was a sound to cheer away any momentary THE STORY OF KENNETP. 225 foreboding. Then, Martha dear, noble girl ! She was his ; it was but to wait, and waiting must be easy when the end was certain. He felt, moreover, that in spite of his unexplained disgrace, he had grown in the respect of his neighbors ; that his persevering integrity was beginning to bring its reward, and he thanked God very gratefully that he had been saved from adding ^ his name any stain of his own making. In an hour or more the force of the wind somewhat abated, but the sky seemed to dissolve into a massy flood. The rain rushed down, not in drops, but in sheets, and in spite of his cloak, he was wet to the skin. For half an hour he was obliged to halt in the wood between Old Kennett and Chadd's Ford, and here he made the dis- covery that with all his care the holsters were nearly full of water. Brown streams careered down the long, meadowy hollow on his left, wherein many Hessian sol- diers lay "buried. There was money buried with them, the people believed, but no one cared to dig among the dead at midnight, and many a wild tale of frighted treasure- seekers recurred to his mind. At the bottom of the long hill flowed the Brandywine, now rolling swift and turbid, level with its banks. Roger bravely breasted the flood, and after a little struggle, reached the opposite side. Then across the battle- meadow, in the teeth of the storm, along the foot of the low hill, around the brow of which the entrenchments of the American army made a clayey streak, until the ill- fated field, sown with grape-shot and bullets which the farmers turned up every spring with their furrows, lay behind him. The story of the day was familiar to him, from the narratives of scores of eye-witnesses, and he thought to himself, as he rode onward, wet, lashed by the furious rain, yet still of good cheer, " Though the fight ras lost, the cause was won." After leaving the lovely lateral valley which stretches 1* 226 THE STORY OF KENNKTT. eastward for two miles, at right angles to the course cf th Brandywine, he entered a rougher and wilder region, more thickly wooded and deeply indented with abrupt glens. Thus far he had not met with a living soul. Chester was now not more than eight or ten miles distant, and, as nearly as he could guess, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon. With the best luck, he could barely reach his destination by nightfall, for the rain showed no signs of abating, and there were still several streams to be crossed. His blood leaped no more so nimbly along his veins ; the continued exposure had at last chilled and benumbed him. Letting the reins fall upon Roger's neck, he folded himself closely in his wet cloak, and bore the weather with a grim, patient endurance. The road dropped into a rough glen, crossed a stony brook, and then wound along the side of a thickly wooded hill. On his right the bank had been cut away like a wall ; on the left a steep slope of tangled thicket descended to the stream. One moment, Gilbert knew that he was riding along this road, Roger pressing close to the bank for shelter from the wind and rain ; the next, there was a swift and tremendous grip on his collar, Roger slid from under him, and he was hurled backwards, with great force, upon the ground. Yet even in the act of falling, he seemed to be conscious that a figure sprang down upon the road from the bank above. It was some seconds before the shock, which sent a crash through his brain and a thousand fiery sparkles into his eyes, passed away. Then a voice, keen, sharp, and determined, which it seemed that he knew, exclaimed, " Damn the beast ! I '11 have to shoot him." Lifting his head with some difficulty, for he felt weak and giddy, and propping himself on his arm, he saw Sandj Flash in the road, three or four paces off, fronting Roger, who had whirled around, and with levelled ears and fiorj eyes, seemed to be meditating an attack. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 227 The robber wore a snort overcoat, made entirely of musk-rut skins, which completely protected the arms in his belt He had a large hunting-knife in his left hand, and appeared to be feeling with his right for the stock of a pistol. It seemed to Gilbert that nothing but the sin- gular force of his eye held back the horse from rushing upon him. " Keep as you are, young man ! " he cried, without turning his head, " or a bullet goes into your horse's brain. I know the beast, and don't want to see him slaughtered. If you don't, order him to be quiet ! " Gilbert, although he knew every trait of the noble animal's nature better than those of many a huinan ac- quaintance, was both surprised and touched at the instinct with which he had recognized an enemy, and the fierce courage with which he stood on the defensive. In that moment of bewilderment, he thought only of Roger, whose life hung by a thread, which his silence would instantly snap. He might have seen had there been time for reflection that nothing would have been gained, in an} case, by the animal's death ; for, stunned and unarmed as he was, he was no match for the powerful, wary highway- man. Obeying the feeling which entirely possessed him, he cried, '' Roger ! Roger, old boy ! " The horse neighed a shrill, glad neigh of recognition, and pricked up his ears. Sandy Flash stood motionless; he had let go of his pistol, and concealed the knife in a fold of his coat fc Quiet, Roger, quiet ! " Gilbert again commanded. The animal understood the tone, if not the words. He seemed completely reassured, and advanced a step or two nearer. With the utmost swiftness and dexterity, com- bined with an astonishing gentleness, making no gesture which might excite Roger's suspicion, Sandy Flash thrust his hand into the holsters, smiled mockingly, cut the straps 228 THE STORY OF KENNETT of the saddle-bags with a single movemem of his keen edged knife, tested the weight of the bags, nodded, grinned and then, stepping aside, he allowed the horse to pass him. But he watched every motion of the head and ears, as he did so. Roger, however, seemed to think only of his master. Bending down his head, he snorted warmly into Gilbert's pale face, and then swelled his sides with a deep breath of satisfaction. Tears of shame, grief, and rage swam in Gilbert's eyes. " Roger," he said, " I 've lost everything but you ! " He staggered to his feet and leaned against the bank. The extent of his loss the hopelessness of its recovery the impotence of his burning desire to avenge the out- rage overwhelmed him. The highwayman still stood, a few paces off, watching him with a grim curiosity. With a desperate effort, Gilbert turned towards him. " Sandy Flash," he cried, " do you know what you are doing ? " "I rather guess so," and the highwayman grinned. "I've done it before, but never quite so neatly as this time." " I 've heard it said, to your credit," Gilbert continued " that, though you rob the rich, you sometimes give to the poor. This time you 've robbed a poor man." " I 've only borrowed a little from one able to spare a good deal more than I 've got, and the grudge I owe him is n't paid off yet." u It is not so ! " Gilbert cried. " Every cent has been earned by my own and my mother's hard work. I was taking it to Chester, to pay off a debt upon the farm ; and the loss and the disappointment will wellnigh break my mother's heart. According to your views of things, you owe me a grudge, but you are outside of the law, and I did my duty as a lawful man by trying to shoot you ! " ' And I, bein' outside o' the law, as you say, have let you THE STORY OF KENXETT. 229 off mighty easy, young man ! " exclaimed Sandy Flash, his eyes shining angrily and his teeth glittering. " I took you for a fellow o' pluck, not for one that 'd lie, even to the robber they call me ! What 's all this pitiful story about Barton's money ? " " Barton's money ! " " Oh ay ! You did n't agree to take some o his money to Chester ? " The mocking expression on the highwayman's face was perfectly diabolical. He slung the saddle-bags over his shoulders, and turned to leave. Gilbert was so amazed that for a moment he knew not what to say. Sandy Flash took three strides up the road, and then sprang down into the thicket. " It is not Barton's money ! " Gilbert cried, with a last desperate appeal, " it is mine, mine and my mother's ! " A short, insulting laugh was the only answer. " Sandy Flash ! " he cried again, raising his voice almost to a shout, as the crashing of the robber's steps through the brushwood sounded farther and farther down the glen, u Sandy Flash ! You have plundered a widow's honest earnings to-day, and a curse goes with such plunder! Hark you ! if never before, you are cursed from this hour forth ! I call upon God, in my mother's name, to mark you!" There was no sound in reply, except the dull, dreary hum of the wind and the steady lashing of the rain. The growing darkness of the sky told of approaching night and the wild glen, bleak enough before, was now a scene of utter and hopeless desolation to Gilbert's eyes. He was almost unmanned, not only by the cruel loss, but also bv the stinging sense of outrage which it had left behind. A mixed feeling of wretched despondency and shame filled his heart, as he leaned, chill, weary, and still weak from the shock of his fall, upon Roger's neck. The faithful animal turned his head from time to time, M if to question his master's unusual demeanor. There 230 THE STORY OF KENNETT. was a look of almost human sympathy in his large eyes, he was hungry and restless, yet would not move until the word of command had been, given. " Poor fellow ! " said Gilbert, patting his cheek, " we 've both fared ill to-day. But you must n't suffer any longer for my sake." He then mounted and rode onward through the storm. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 281 CHAPTER XXT. ROGER REPAYS HIS MASTER. A MILE or more beyond the spot where Gilbert Pottei had been waylaid, there was a lonely tavern, called the " Drovers' Inn." Here he dismounted, more for his horse's sake than his own, although he was sore, weary, and sick of heart. After having carefully groomed Roger with his own hands, and commended him to the special attentions of the ostler, he entered the warm public room, wherein three or four storm- bound drovers were gathered around the roaring fire of hickory logs. The men kindly made way for the pale, dripping, wretched-looking stranger ; and the landlord, with a shrewd glance and a suggestion of " Something hot, I reckon?" began mixing a compound proper for the occasion. Laying aside his wet cloak, which was sent to the kitchen to be more speedily dried, Gilbert presently sat in a cloud of his own steaming garments, and felt the warmth of the potent liquor in his chilly blood. All at once, it occurred to him that the highwayman had not touched his person. There was not only some loose silver in his pockets, but Mark Deane's money-belt was still around his waist So much, at least, was rescued, and he began to pluck up a little courage. Should he continue his journey to Chester, explain the misfortune to the holder of his mortgage, and give notice to the County Sheriff of this new act of robbery ? Then the thought came into his mind that in that case he might be detained a day or two, in order to make depositions, or comply with seme unknown 2$ THE STORY OF KENNETT. legal form. In the mean time the news would spread over the country, no doubt with many exaggerations, and might possibly reach Kennett even the ears of his mother. That reflection decided his course. She must first hear the truth from his mouth ; he would try to give her cheer and encouragement, though he felt none himself; then, calling his friends together, he would hunt Sandy Flash like a wild beast until they had tracked him to his lair. " Unlucky weather for ye, it seems ? " remarked the curi- ous landlord, who, seated in a corner of the fireplace, had for full ten minutes been watching Gilbert's knitted brows, gloomy, brooding eyes, and compressed lips. " Weather ? " * he exclaimed, bitterly. " It 's not the weather. Landlord, will you have a chance of sending to Chester to-morrow ? " " I 'm going, if it clears up," said one of the drovers. " Then, my friend," Gilbert continued, " will you take a letter from me to the Sheriff?" " If it 's nothing out of the way," the man replied. " It 's in the proper course of law if there is any law to protect us. Not a mile and a half from here, landlord, I have been waylaid and robbed on the public road ! " There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Gil- bert's story, which he had suddenly decided to relate, in order that the people of the neighborhood might be put upon their guard, was listened to with an interest only less than the terror which it inspired. The landlady rushed into the bar room, followed by the red-faced kitchen wench, and both interrupted the recital with cries of " Dear, dear ! " and " Lord save us ! " The landlord, meanwhile, had pre- pared another tumbler of hot and hot, and brought it for- ward, saying, " You need it, the Lord knows, and it shall cost you nothing." " What I most need now," Gilbert said, u is pen, ink, and paper, to write out my account Then I suppose you THE STORY OF KEKNETT. 233 can get me up a cold check,* for I must start homewards soon." " Not ' a cold check ' after all that drenching and mis- handling ! " the landlord exclaimed. " We '11 have a hot supper in half an hour, and you shall stay, and welcome. Wife, bring down one of Liddy's pens, the schoolmaster made for her, and put a little vinegar into th' ink-bottle ; it 's most dried up ! " In a few minutes the necessary materials for a letter, all of the rudest kind, were supplied, and the landlord and drovers hovered around as Gilbert began to write, assisting him with the most extraordinary suggestions. " I 'd threaten," said a drover, " to write straight to Gen- eral Washington, unless they promise to catch the scoun- drel in no time ! " " And don't forget th<> knife and pistol ! " cried the land- lord. "And say the Tory fanners' houses ought to be searched ! " " And give his marks, to a hair ! " Amid all this confusion, Gilbert managed to write a brief, but sufficiently circumstantial account of the robbery, call- ing upon the County authorities to do their part in effect- ing the capture of Sandy Flash. He offered his services and those of the Kennett troop, announcing that he should immediately start upon the hunt, and expected to be sec- onded by the law. When the letter had been sealed and addressed, the drovers some of whom carried money with them, and had agreed to travel in company, for better protection eagerly took charge o*" it, promising to back the delivery with very energetic demands for assistance. Night had fallen, and the rain fell with it, in renewed torrents. The dreary, universal hum of the storm rose gain, making all accidental sounds of life impertinent, in A local term, in use at the time, rjgnifying a " lunch." 234 THE STORT OF KENNETT. contrast with its deep, tremendous monotone. The win- dows shivered, the walls sweat and streamed, and the wild wet blew in under the doors, as if besieging that refuge (A warm, red fire-light " This beats the Larnmas flood o' '68," said the landlord, as he led the way to supper. " I was a young man at the time, and remember it well. Half the dams on Brandy wine went that night" After a bountiful meal, Gilbert completely dried his gar- ments and prepared to set out on his return, resisting the kindly persuasion of the host and hostess that he should stay all night. A restless, feverish energy filled his frame. He felt that he could not sleep, that to wait idly would be simple misery, and that only in motion towards the set aim of his fierce, excited desires, could he bear his disappoint- ment and shame. But the rain still came down with a vol- ume which threatened soon to exhaust the cisterns of the air, and in that hope he compelled himself to wait a little. Towards nine o'clock the great deluge seemed to slacken, The wind arose, and there were signs of its shifting, ere- long, to the northwest, which would bring clear weather in a few hours. The night was dark, but not pitchy ; a dull phosphoric gleam overspread the under surface of the sky. The woods were full of noises, and every gully at the roadside gave token, by its stony rattle, of the rain- born streams. With his face towards home and his back to the storm, Gilbert rode into the night. The highway was but a streak of less palpable darkness ; the hills on either hand scarcely detached themselves from the low, black ceiling of sky be- hind them. Sometimes the light of a farm-house window O sparkled faintly, like a glow-worm, but whether far or near, he could not tell ; he only knew how blest must be the owner, sitting with wife and children around his secure hearthstone, how wretched his own life, cast adrift in the darkness, wife, home, and future, things of doubt 1 THE STORY OF KENNETT. 235 He had lost more than money ; and his wretchedness will not seem unmanly when we remember the steady strain and struggle of his previous life. As there is noth- ing more stimulating to human patience, and courage, and energy, than the certain prospect of relief at the end, so there is nothing more depressing than to see that relief suddenly snatched away, and the same round of toil thrust again under one's feet ! This is the fate of Tantalus and Sisyphus in one. Not alone the money; a year, or two years, of labor would no doubt replace what he had lost But he had seen, in imagination, his mother's feverish anxiety at an end ; household help procured, to lighten her over-heavy toil ; the possibility of her release from some terrible obli- gation brought nearer, as he hoped and trusted, and with it the strongest barrier broken down which rose between him and Martha Deane. All these things which he had, as it were, held in his hand, had been stolen from him, and the loss was bitter because it struck down to the roots ol the sweetest and strongest fibres of his heart. The night veiled his face, but if some hotter drops than those of the storm were shaken from his cheek, they left no stain upon his manhood. The sense of outrage, of personal indignity, which no man can appreciate who has not himself been violently plundered, added its sting to his miserable mood. He thirsted to avenge the wrong ; Barton's words involuntarily came back to him, " I '11 know no peace till the villain has been strung up ! " Barton ! How came Sandy Flash to know that Barton intended to send money by him ? Had not Barton himself declared that the matter should be kept secret ? Was there some complicity between the latter and Sandy Flash ? Yet, on the other hand, it seemed that the highwayman believed that he was robbing Gilbert of Barton's money. Here was an enigma which be could not solve. 236 THE STORY OF KENNETT. All at once, a hideous solution presented itself. Was it possible that Barton's money was to be only apparently stolen in reality returned to him privately, afterwards ? Possibly the rest of the plunder divided between the two confederates ? Gilbert was not in a charitable mood ; the human race was much more depraved, in his view, than twelve hours before ; and the inference which he would have rejected as monstrous, that very morning, now as- sumed a possible existence. One thing, at least, was cer- tain ; he would exact an explanation, and if none should be furnished, he would make public the evidence in his hands. The black, dreary night seemed interminable. He could only guess, here and there, at a landmark, and was forced to rely more upon Roger's instinct of the road than upon the guidance of his senses. Towards midnight, as he judged, by the solitary crow of a cock, the rain almost entirely ceased. The wind began to blow, sharp and keen, and the hard vault of the sky to lift a little. He fancied that the hills on his right had fallen away, and that the horizon was suddenly depressed towards the north. Roger's feet began to splash in constantly deepening water, and presently a roar, distinct from that of the wind, filled the air. It was the Brandywine. The stream had overflowed its broad meadow-bottoms, and was running high and fierce beyond its main channel. The turbid waters made a dim, dusky gleam around him ; soon the fences disappeared, and the flood reached to his horse's belly. But he knew that the ford could be distinguished by the break in the fringe of timber ; moreover, that the creek-bank was a little higher than the meadows behind it, and so far, at least, he might venture. The ford was not more than twenty yards across, and he could trust Roger to swim that distance. The faithful animal pressed bravely on, but Gilbert goon noticed that he seemed at fault The swift water had THE STORY OF KENNETT. 237 S>rced him out of the road, and he stopped, from time to time, as if anxious and uneasy. The timber covJd now be discerned, only a sLort distance in advance, and in a few minutes they would gain the bank. What was that? A strange rustling, hissing sound, as of cattle trampling through dry reeds, a sound which quivered and shook, even in the breath of the hurrying wind ! Roger snorted, stood still, and trembled in every limb ; and a sensation of awe and terror struck a chill through Gilbert's heart. The sound drew swiftly nearer, and became a wild, seething roar, filling the whole breadth of the valley. B Great God ! " cried Gilbert, " the dam ! the dam has given way ! " He turned Roger's head, gave him the rein, struck, spurred, cheered, and shouted. The brave beast struggled through the impeding flood, but the advance wave of the coming inundation already touched his side. He staggered ; a line of churning foam bore down upon them, the terrible roar was all around and over them, and horse and rider were whirled away. What happened during the first few seconds, Gilbert could never distinctly recall. Now they were whelmed in the water, now riding its careering tide, torn through the tops of brushwood, jostled by floating logs and timbers of the dam-breast, but always, as it seemed, remorselessly held in the heart of the tumult and the ruin. He saw, at last, that they had fallen behind the furious onset of the flood, but Roger was still swimming with it, desperately throwing up his head from time to time, and snorting the water from his nostrils. All his efforts to gain a foothold failed ; his strength was nearly spent, and unless some help should come in a few minutes, it would come in vain. And in the darkness, and the rapidity with which they were borne along, how should help come ? All at once, Roger's course stopped. He became an ob- stacle to the flood, which pressed him against some other 238 THE STORY OF KENNETT obstacle below, and rushed over horse and rider. Thrust' big out his hand, Gilbert felt the rough bark of a tree. Leaning towards it and clasping the log in his arms, he drew himself from the saddle, while Roger, freed from his burden, struggled into the current and instantly disap- peared. As nearly as Gilbert could ascertain, several timbers, thrown over each other, had lodged, probably upon a rocky islet in the stream, the uppermost one projecting slantingly out of the flood. It required all his strength to resist the current which sucked, and whirled, and tugged at his body, and to climb high enough to escape its force, without over- balancing his support. At last, though still half immerged, he found himself comparatively safe for a time, yet as fai as ever from a final rescue. lie must await the dawn, and an eternity of endurance lay in those few hours. Meantime, perhaps, the creek would fall, for the rain had ceased, and there were outlines of moving cloud in the sky. It was the night which made his situation so terrible, by concealing the chances of escape. At first, he thought most of Roger. Was Iris brave horse drowned, or had he safely gained the bank below ? Then, as the desperate moments went by, and tins chill of exposure and the fatigue of exertion began to creep over him, his mind reverted, with a bitter sweetness, a mixture of bliss and agony, to the two beloved women to whom his life belonged, the life which, alas ! he could not now call his own, to give. He tried to fix his thoughts on Death, to commend his soul to Divine Mercy ; but every prayer shaped itself into an appeal that he might once more see the dear faces and hear the dear voices. In the great shadow of the fate which hung over him, the loss of his property became as dust in the balance, and his recent despair smote him with shame. He no longer fiercely protested against the inju- ries of fortune, but entreated pardon and pity for the sake of his love. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 2& Thn clouds rolled into distincter masses, and the north- wrest wind still hunted them across the sky, until there came, first a tiny rill for a star, then a gap for a whole con- stellation, and finally a broad burst of moonlight. Gilbert now saw that the timber to which he clung was lodged nearly in the centre of the channel, as the water swept with equal force on either side of him. Beyond the banks there was a wooded hill on the left ; on the right an over- flowed meadow. He was too weak and benumbed to trust himself to the flood, but he imagined that it was beginning to subside, and therein lay his only hope. Yet a new danger now assailed him, from the increasing cold. There was already a sting of frost, a breath of ice, in the wind. In another hour the sky was nearly swept bare of clouds, and he could note the lapse of the night by the sinking of the moon. But he was by this time hardly in a condition to note anything more. He had thrown himself, face downwards, on the top of the log, his arms mechanically clasping it, while his mind sank into a state of torpid, passive suffering, growing nearer to the dreamy indifference which precedes death. His cloak had been torn away in the first rush of the inundation, and the wet coat began to stiffen in the wind, from the ice gathering over it. The moon was low in the west, and there was a pale glimmer of the coming dawn in the sky, when Gilbert Pot- ter suddenly raised his head. Above the noise of the water and the whistle of the wind, he heard a familiar sound, the shrill, sharp neigh of a horse. Lifting him- self, with great exertion, to a sitting posture, he saw two men. on horseback, in the flooded meadow, a little below him. They stopped, seemed to consult, and presently drew nearer. Gilbert tried to shout, but the muscles of his throat were fetiff, and his lungs refused to act The horse neighed again. This time there was no mistake ; it was Roger that 240 THE STORY OF KENNETT. he heard ! Voice came to him, and he cried aloud, * hoarse, strange, unnatural cry. The horsemen heard it, and rapidly pushed up the bank, until they reached a point directly opposite to him. The prospect of escape brought a thrill of life to his frame ; he looked around and saw that the flood had indeed fallen. " We have no rope," he heard one of the men say. " How shall we reach him ? " " There is no time to get one, now," the other answered. " My horse is stronger than yours. I '11 go into the creek just below, where it 's broader and not so deep, and work my way up to him." " But one horse can't carry both." " His will follow, be sure, when it sees me." As the last speaker moved away, Gilbert saw a led horse plunging through the water, beside the other. It was a difficult and dangerous undertaking. The horseman and the loose horse entered the main stream below, where its divided channel met and broadened, but it was still above the saddle-girths, and very swift. Sometimes the animals plunged, losing their foothold ; nevertheless, they gallantly breasted the current, and inch by inch worked their way to a point about six feet below Gilbert. It seemed impossi ble to approach nearer. " Can you swim ? " asked the man. Gilbert shook his head. " Throw me the end of Roger's bridle ! " he then cried. The man unbuckled the bridle and threw it, keeping the end of the rein in his hand. Gilbert tried to grasp it, but his hands were too numb. He managed, however, to get one arm and his head through the opening, and relaxed his hold on the log. A plunge, and the man had him by the collar He felt himself lifted by a strong arm and laid across Roger's sad- dle. With his failing strength and stiff limbs, it was no slight task to get into place, and the return, though lesa THE STORY OF KENNETT. 241 laborious to the horses, was equally dangerous, because Gilbert was scarcely able to support himself without nelp. " You 're safe now," said the man, when they reached 1 he bank, " but it 's a downright mercy of God that you 're alive ! " The other horseman joined them, and they rode slowly across the flooded meadow. They had both thrown their cloaks around Gilbert, and carefully steadied him in the saddle, one on each side. He was too much exhausted to ask how they had found him, or whither they were taking him, too numb for curiosity, almost for gratitude. " Here 's your saviour ! " said one of the men, patting Roger's shoulder. " It was all along of him that we found you. Want to know how ? Well about three o'clock it was, maybe a little earlier, maybe a little later, my wife woke me up. ' Do you hear that ? ' she says. I listened and heard a horse in the lane before the door, neighing, I can't tell you exactly how it was, like as if he 'd call up the house. 'T was rather queer, I thought, so I got up and looked out of window, and it seemed to me he had a saddle on. He stamped, and pawed, and then he gave an- other yell, and stamped again. Says I to my wife, ' There's something wrong here,' and I dressed and went out. When, he saw me, he acted the strangest you ever saw ; thinks I, if ever an animal wanted to speak, that animal does. When I tried to catch him, he shot off, run down the lane a bit, and then came back as strangely acting as ever. I went into the house and woke up my brother, here, and we sad- dled our horses and started. Away went yours ahead, stopping every minute to look round and see if we followed. When we came to the water, I kind o' hesitated, but 't was no use ; the horse would have us go on, and on, till we found you. I never heard tell of the like of it, in my bora days!" Gilbert did not speak, but two large tears slowly gath- 16 342 Tfifi STORY OF KENNETT. ered in his eyes, and rolled down liis cheeks. The men saw his emotion, and respected it. In the light of the cold, keen dawn, they reached a snug farm-house, a mile from the Brandywine. The men lifted Gilbert from the saddle, and would have carried him im- mediately into the house, but he first leaned upon Roger's neck, took the faithful creature's head in his arms, and kissed it The good housewife was already up, and anxiously awaiting the return of her husband and his brother. A cheery fire crackled on the hearth, and the coffee-pot was simmering beside it. When Gilbert had been partially revived by the warmth, the men conducted him into an adjoining bed-room, undressed him, and rubbed his limbs with whiskey. Then, a large bowl of coffee having been administered, he was placed in bed, covered with half a dozen blankets, and the curtains were drawn over the win- dows. In a few minutes he was plunged in a slumber almost as profound as that of the death from which he had been so miraculously delivered. It was two hours .past noon when he awoke, and he no sooner fully comprehended the situation and learned how the time had sped, than he insisted on rising, although still sore, weak, and feverish. The good farmer's wife had kept a huge portion of dinner hot before the fire, and he knew that without compelling a show of appetite, he would not be considered sufficiently recovered to leave. He had but one desire, to return home. So recently plucked from the jaws of Death, his life still seemed to be an uncertain possession. Finally Roger was led forth, quiet and submissive as of old, having forgotten his good deed as soon as it had been accomplished, and Gilbert, wrapped in the farmers cloak, retraced his way to the main road. As he looked across the meadow, which told of the inundation in its sweep of bent, muddy grass, and saw, between the creek- THE STORY OF KENSTETT. 248 Dank tiees, the lodged timber to which he had clung, the recollection of the night impressed him like a frightfib dream. It was a bright, sharp, wintry day, the most vio- lent contrast to that which had preceded it The hills on either side, whose outlines he could barely guess in the darkness, now stood out from the air with a hard, painful distinctness ; the sky was an arch of cold, steel-tinted crys- tal ; and the north wind blew with a shrill, endless whistle through the naked woods. As he climbed the long hill west of Chadd's Ford, Gil- bert noticed how the meadow on his right had been torn by the flood gathered from the fields above. In one place a Hessian skull had been snapped from the buried skele- ton, and was rolled to light, among the mud and pebbles. Not far off, something was moving among the bushes, and he involuntarily drew rein. The form stopped, appeared to crouch down for a mo- ment, then suddenly rose and strode forth upon the grass. It was a woman, wearing a man's flannel jacket, and carry- ing a long, pointed staff in her hand. As she approached with rapid strides, he recognized Deb. Smith. " Deborah ! " he cried, " what are you doing here ? " She set her pole to the ground and vaulted over the high picket-fence, like an athlete. . " Weil," she said, " if I 'd ha' been shy o' you, Mr. Gil- bert, you would n't ha' seen me. I 'm not one of them as goes prowlin' around among dead bodies' bones at mid- night ; what I want, I looks for in the daytime." a Bones ? " he asked. " You 're surely not digging up the Hessians ? " " Not exackly ; but, you see, the rain 's turned out a few, and some on 'em, folks says, was buried with lots o' goold platted up in their pig-tails. I know o' one man that dug up two or three to git their teeth, (to sell to the tooth- doctors, you know,) and when he took hold o' the pig-tail to lift the head by, the hair come off in his hand, and out 244 THE STORY OF KENNETT. rattled ten good goolden guineas. Now, if any money ' washed out, there 's no harm in a body 'B pickin' of it up* as I see." " What luck have you had ? " asked Gilbert. " Nothin' to speak of ; a few buttons, and a thing or two. But I say, Mr. Gilbert, what luck ha' you had ? " She had been keenly and curiously inspecting his face. " Deborah ! " he exclaimed, " you 're a false prophet ! u You told me that, whatever happened, I was safe from Sandy Flash." Eh ? " There was a shrill tone of surprise and curiosity in thui exclamation. " You ought to know Sandy Flash better, before you prophesy in his name," Gilbert repeated, in a stern voice. " Oh, Mr. Gilbert, tell me what you mean ? " She grasped his leg with one hand, while she twisted the other in Roger's mane, as if to hold both horse and rider until the words were explained. Thereupon he related to her in a brief, fierce way, all that had befallen him. Her face grew red and her eyes flashed; she shook her fist and swore under her breath, from time to time, while he spoke. " You '11 be righted, Mr. Gilbert!" she then cried, "you 11 be righted, never fear ! Leave it to me ! Have n't I al- ways kep' my word to you ? You 're believin' I lied the last time, and no wonder ; but I '11 prove the truth o' my words yet may the Devil git my soul, if I don't ! " " Don't think that I blame you, Deborah," he said. " You were too sure of my good luck, because you wished me to have it that 's all." " Thank ye for that ! But it is n't enough for me. When I promise a thing, I have power to keep my prom- ise. A.X me no more questions ; bide quiet awhile, and if the money is n't back in your pocket by New- Year, I givt ye leave to curse me, and kick me, and spit upon me I * THE STORY OF KENNETT. 245 Gilbert smiled sadly and incredulously, and rode onward. He made haste to reach home, for a dull pain began to throb in his head, and chill shudders ran over his body. He longed to have the worst over which yet awaited him, and gain a little rest for body, brain, and heart. THE STORY OF KENNETT. CHAPTER XXH. MARTHA DEANE TAKES A RESOLUTION. MART POTTER had scarcely slept during the night oi aer son's absence. A painful unrest, such as she nevei remembered to have felt before, took complete possession of her. Whenever the monotony of the drenching rain outside lulled her into slumber for a few minutes, she was sure to start up in bed with a vague, singular impres- sion that some one had called her name. After midnight, when the storm fell, the shrill wailing of the rising wind seemed to forebode disaster. Although she believed Gil- D bert to be safely housed in Chester, the fact constantly slipped from her memory, and she shuddered at every change in the wild weather as if he were really exposed to it The next day, she counted the hours with a feverish impatience. It seemed like tempting Providence, but she determined to surprise her son with a supper of unusual luxury for their simple habits, after so important and so toilsome a journey. Sam had killed a fowl ; it was picked and dressed, but she had not courage to put it into the pot, until the fortune of the day had been assured. Towards sunset she saw, through the back - kitchen- window, a horseman approaching from the direction of Carson's. It seemed to be Roger, but could that rider, in the faded brown cloak, be Gilbert? His cloak was blue ; he always rode with his head erect, not hanging like this man's, whose features she could not sec. Oppo- site the house, he lifted his head it was Gilbert, but how old and haggard was his face 1 THE STOKY OF KENNETT. 247 She met him at the gate. His cheeks were suddenly flushed, his eyes bright, and the smile with which he looked at her seemed to be joyous ; yet it gave her a sersc of pain and terror. " Oh, Gilbert ! " she cried ; " what has happened ? " He slid slowly and wearily off the horse, whose neck he fondled a moment before answering her. "Mother," he said at last, "you have to thank Roger that I am here to-night. I have come back to you from the gates of death ; will you be satisfied with that for a while ? " " I don't understand you, my boy ! You frighten me ; have n't you been at Chester ? " " No," he answered, " there was no use of going." A presentiment of the truth came to her, but before she could question him further, he spoke again. " Mother, let us go into the house. I 'm cold and tired ; I want to sit in your old rocking-chair, where I can rest my head. Then I '11 tell you everything ; I wish I had an easier task ! " She noticed that his steps were weak and slow, felt that his hands were like ice, and saw his blue lips and chatter- ing teeth. She removed the strange cloak, placed her chair in front of the fire, seated him hi it, and then knelt upon the floor to draw off his stiff, sodden top-boots. He was passive as a child in her hands. Her care for him overcame all other dread, and not until she had placed his feet upon a stool, in the full warmth of the blaze, given him a glass of hot wine and lavender, and placed a pillow under his head, did she sit down at his side to hear the story. " I thought of this, last night," he said, with a faint smile ; " not that I ever expected to see it. The man was right ; it 's a mercy of God that I ever got out alive ! " " Then be grateful to God, my boy ! " she replied, " and let me be grateful, too. It will balance misfortune, for that there is misfortune in store for us. T see plainly." 248 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Gilbert then spoke. The narrative was long and pain- ful, and he told it wearily and brokenly, yet with entire truth, disguising nothing of the evil that had come upon them. His mother sat beside him, pale, stony, stifling the sobs that rose in her throat, until he reached the period of his marvellous rescue, when she bent her head upon his arm and wept aloud. " That 's all, mother ! " he said at the close ; it 's hard to bear, but I 'm more troubled on your account than OB. my own." " Oh, I feared we were over-sure ! " she cried. " I claimed payment before it was ready. The Lord chooses His own time, and punishes them that can't wait for His ways to be manifest ! It 's terribly hard ; and yet, while His left hand smites, His right hand gives mercy ! He might ha' taken you, my boy, but He makes a miracle to save you for me ! " When she had outwept her passionate tumult of feeling, she grew composed and serene. " Have n't I yet learned to be patient, in all these years ? " she said. " Have n't I sworn to work out with open eyes the work I took in blindness ? And after waiting twenty-five years, am I to murmur at another year or two ? No, Gilbert ! It 's to be done ; I will deserve my justice ! Keep your courage, my boy ; be brave and patient, and the sight of you will hold me from breaking down ! " She arose, felt his hands and feet, set his pillow aright, and then stooped and kissed him. His chills had ceased ; a feeling of heavy, helpless languor crept over him. ** Let Sam see to Roger, mother ! " he murmured. u Tel' him not to spare the oats." " I 'd feed him with my own hands, Gilbert, if I coula leave you. I 'd put fine wheat-bread into his manger and wrap him in blankets off my own bed! To think that Roger, that I did n't want you to buy, Lord forgive me, I was advising your own death ! " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 249 It was fortunate for Mary Potter that she saw a mysteri- ous Providence, which, to her mind, warned and yet prom- ised while it chastised, in all that had occurred. This feeling helped her to bear a disappointment, which would otherwise have been very grievous. The idea of an atoning ordeal, which she must endure in order to be crowned with the final justice, and so behold her life redeemed, had become rooted in her nature. To Gilbert much of this feeling was inexplicable, because he was ignorant of the circumstances which had called it into existence. But he saw that his mother was not yet hopeless, that she did not seem to con- sider her deliverance as materially postponed, and a glim- mer of hope was added to the relief of having told his tale. He was still feverish, dozing and muttering in uneasy dreams, as he lay back in the old rocking-chair, and Mary Potter, with Sam's help, got him to bed, after administer- ing a potion which she was accustomed to use in all com- plaints, from mumps to typhus fever. As for Roger, he stood knee-deep in clean litter, with half a bushel of oats before him. The next morning Gilbert did not arise, and as he com- plained of great soreness in every part of his body, Sam was dispatched for Dr. Deane. It was the first time this gentleman had ever been sum- moned to the Potter farm-house. Mary Potter felt con- siderable trepidation at his arrival, both on account of the awe which his imposing presence inspired, and the knowl- edge of her son's love for his daughter, a fact which, she rightly conjectured, he did not suspect As he brought his ivory-headed cane, his sleek drab broadcloth, and his herbaceous fragrance into the kitchen, she was almost overpowered. " How is thy son ailing ?" he asked. " He always seemed to me to be a very healthy young man." She desciibed the symptoms with a conscientious mi- nuteness. 250 THE STORY OF KENNETT. u How was it brought on ? " he asked a father, when thee comes to know Gilbert better, thee will not be so hard. I am thy only child, and my happiness cannot be indifferent to thee. I have tried to obey thee in all things " He interrupted her again. " Thee 's adding another cross Co them J bear for thee already ! Am I not, in a THE STORY OF KENXETT. 259 tnanner, thy Keeper, and responsible for thee, before the world and in the sight of the Lord ? But thce hardened thy heart against the direction of the Spirit, and what won- der, then, that it 's hardened against me ? " " No, father," said Martha, rising and laying her hand softly upon his arm, " I obeyed the Spirit in that other mat- ter, as I obey my conscience in this. I took my duty into my own hands, and considered it in a humble, and, I hope, a pious spirit. I saw that there were innocent needs of nature, pleasant enjoyments of life, which did not conflict with sincere de v otion, and that I was not called upon to renounce them because others happened to see the world in a different light. In this sense, thee is not my keeper ; I must render an account, not to thee, but to Him who gave me my soul. Neither is thee the keeper of my heart and its affections. In the one case and the other my right la equal, nay, it stands as far above thine as Heaven is above the earth ! " In the midst of his wrath, Dr. Deane could not help ad- miring his daughter. Foiled and exasperated as he was by the sweet, serene, lofty power of her words, they excited a wondering respect which he found it difficult to hide. " Ah, Martha ! " he said, " thee has a wonderful power, if it were only directed by the true Light ! But now, it only makes the cross heavier. Don't think that I '11 ever consent to see thee carry out thy strange and wicked fan- cies ! Thee must learn to forget this man, Potter, and the sooner thee begins the easier it will be ! " " Father," she answered, with a sad smile, " I 'm sorry thee knows so little of my nature. The wickedness would be in forgetting. It is very painful to me that we must differ. "Where my duty was wholly owed to thee, I tave never delayed to give it ; but here it is owed to Gilbert Potter, owed, and will be given." " Enough, Martha ! " cried the Doctor, trembling with anger; " don't mention his name again ! " 260 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " I will not, except when the same duty requires it to be mentioned. But, father, try to think less harshly of the name ; it will one day be mine ! " She spoke gently and imploringly, with tears in her eyes. The conflict had been, as she said, very painful ; but her course was plain, and she dared not flinch a step at the outset The difficulties must be met face to face, and reso- lutely assailed, if they were ever to be overcome. Dr. Deane strode up and down the room in silence, with his hands behind his back. Martha stood by the fire, wait- ing his further speech, but he did not look at her, and at the end of half an hour, commanded shortly and sharply, without turning his head, Go to bed ! " " Good-night, father," she said, in her usual c'Jear sweat voice, and quietly left the room. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 261 CHAPTER A CROSS-EXAMINATION. THE story of Gilbert Potter's robbery and marvellous escape from death ran rapidly through the neighborhood, and coming, as it did, upon the heels of his former adven- ture, created a great excitement. He became almost a hero in the minds of the people. It was not their habit to allow any man to quite assume so lofty a character as that, but they granted to Gilbert fully as much interest as, in their estimation, any human being ought properly to re- ceive. Dr. Deane was eagerly questioned, wherever he went ; and if his garments could have exhaled the odors of his feelings, his questioners would have smelled aloes and asafoetida instead of sweet-marjoram and bergamot. But in justice to him be it said he told and retold the story very correctly ; the tide of sympathy ran so high and strong, that he did not venture to stem it on grounds which could not be publicly explained. The supposed disgrace of Gilbert's birth seemed to be quite forgotten for the time ; and there was no young man of spirit in the four townships who was not willing to serve under his command. More volunteers offered, in fact, than could be profitably employed. Sandy Flash was not the game to be unearthed by a loud, numerous, sweeping hunt ; traps, pitfalls, secret and unwearied following of his many trails, were what was needed. So much time had elapsed that the beginning must be a conjectural beating of the bushes, and to this end several small companies were or- ganized, and the country between the Octorara and the Delaware very effectually scoured. 262 THE STORY OF KENNETT. When the various parties reunited, after several days, neither of them brought any positive intelligence, but all the greater store of guesses and rumors. Three or four suspicious individuals had been followed and made to give an account of themselves ; certain hiding-places, especially the rocky lairs along the Brandywine and the North Valley- Hill, were carefully examined, and some traces of occupa- tion, though none very recent, were discovered. Such evi- dence as there was seemed to indicate that part of the eastern branch of the Brandywine, between the forks of the stream and the great Chester Valley, as being the prob- able retreat of the highwayman, and a second expedition was at once organized. The Sheriff, with a posse of men from the lower part of the county, undertook to watch the avenues of escape towards the river. This new attempt was not more successful, so far as its main object was concerned, but it actually stumbled upon Sandy Flash's trail, and only failed by giving tongue too soon and following too impetuously. Gilbert and his men had a tantalizing impression (which later intelligence proved to have been correct) that the robber was somewhere near them, buried in the depths of the very wood they were approaching, dodging behind the next barn as it came into view, or hidden under dead leaves in some rain-washed gul- ley. Had they but known, one gloomy afternoon in late December, that they were riding under the cedar-tree in whose close, cloudy foliage he was coiled, just above their heads ! Had they but guessed who the deaf old woman was, with her face muffled from the cold, and six cuts of blue yarn in her basket ! But detection had not then be- come a science, and they were far from suspecting the ex- tent of Sandy Flash's devices and disguises. Many of the volunteers finally grew tired of the fruitless chase, and returned home ; others could only spare a few days from their winter labors; but Gilbert Potter, with three or four faithful and courageous young fellows, one THE STORY OF REX^T?. 263 of whom was Mark Deanc, returned ajjain and n^ata to D O the search, and not until the end of December did he con- fess himself baffled. By this time all traces of the high- wayman were again lost ; he seemed to have disappeared from the country. " 1 believe Pratt 's right," said Mark, as the two issued from the Marlborough woods, on their return to Kennett Square. " Chester County is too hot to hold him." " Perhaps so," Gilbert answered, with a gloomy face. He was more keenly disappointed at the failure than he would then confess, even to Mark. The outrage committed upon him was still unavenged, and thus his loss, to his proud, sensitive nature, carried a certain shame with it Moreover, the loss itself must speedily be replaced. He had half flattered himself with the hope of capturing not only Sandy Flash, but his plunder ; it was hard to forget that, for a day or two, he had been independent, hard to stoop again to be a borrower and a debtor ! " What are the county authorities good for ? " Mark ex- claimed. " Between you and me, the Sheriff 's a reg'lar puddin'-head. I wish you was in his place." " If Sandy is safe in Jersey, or down on the Eastern Shore, that would do no good. It is n't enough that he leaves us alone, from this time on ; he has a heavy back- score to settle." " Come to think on it, Gilbert," Mark continued, " is n't it rather queer that you and him should be thrown together in such ways ? There was Barton's fox-chase last spring ; then your shootin' at other, at the Square ; and then the robbery on the road. It seems to me as if he picked you out to follow you, and yet I don't know why." Gilbert started. Mark's words reawakened the dark, incredible suspicion which Martha Deane had removed. Again he declared to himself that he would not entertain the thought, but he could not reject the evidence that there was something more than accident hi all these en- 264 THE STORY OF KENXETT. counters. If any one besides Sandy Flash were responsi- ble for the last meeting, it must be Alfred Barton. The latter, therefore, owed him an explanation, and he would demand it When they reached the top of the " big hill " north of the Fairthorn farm-house, whence they looked eastward down the sloping corn-field which had been the scene of the husking-frolic, Mark turned to Gilbert with an honest blush all over his face, and said, " I don't see why you should n't know it, Gilbert. I 'm sure Sally would n't care ; you 're almost like a brother to her." "What?" Gilbert asked, yet with a quick suspicion of the coming intelligence. " Oh, I guess you know well enough, old fellow. I asked her that night, and it 's all right between us. What do you say to it, now ? " " Mark, I 'm glad of it ; I wish you joy, with all my heart ! " Gilbert stretched out his hand, and as he turned and looked squarely into Mark's half-bashful yet wholly happy face, he remembered Martha's words, at their last interview. " You are like a brother to me, Mark," he said, " and you shall have my secret. What would you say if I had done the same thing ? " No ? " Mark exclaimed ; who ? " "Guess!" "Not not Martha?" Gilbert smiled. " By the Lord ! It 's the best day's work you 've ever done ! Gi' me y'r hand ag'in ; we '11 stand by each other faster than ever, now ! " When they stopped at Fairthorn's, the significant pres- sure of Gilbert's hand brought a blush into Sally's cheek j but when-Murk met Martha with his tell-tale face, she an* swered with a proud and tender smile. THE STORY OF KENNETT. Gilbert's first business, after his return, was to have a consultation with Miss Betsy Lavender, who alone knew of the suspicious attaching to Alfred Barton. The spinster had, in the mean time, made the matter the subject of pro- found and somewhat painful cogitation. She had ran- sacked her richly stored memory of persons and events, until her brain was like a drawer of tumbled clothes ; had spent hours in laborious mental research, becoming so ab- sorbed that she sometimes gave crooked answers when spoken to, and was haunted with a terrible dread of hav- ing thought aloud ; and had questioned the oldest gossips right and left, coming as near the hidden subject as she dared. When they met, she communicated the result to Gilbert in this wise : " T a'n't agreeable for a body to allow they 're flum- muxed, but if 1 a'n't, this time, I 'm mighty near onto it. It 's like lookin' for a set o' buttons that '11 match, in a box full o' tail-ends o' things. This'n 'd do, and that'n 'd do ; but you can't put this'n and that'n together ; and here 's got to be square work, everything fittin' tight and hangin' plumb, or it '11 be throwed back onto your hands, anc all to be done over ag'in. I dunno when I 've done so much head-work and to no purpose, follerin' here and guessin' there, and nosin' into everything that 's past and gone ; and so my opinion is, whether you like it or not, but never mind, all the same, I can't do no more than give it, that we 'd better drop what 's past and. gone, and look a little more into these present times ! " " "Well, Betsy," said Gilbert, with a stern, determined face, " this is what I shall do. I am satisfied that Barton is connected, in some way, with Sandy Flash. What it is, or whether the knowledge will help us, I can't guess ; but I shall force Barton to tell me ! " " To tell me. That might do, as far as it goes," she re- marked, fcfter a moment's reflection. " It won't be easy ; you 'U have to threaten as well as coax, but I guess you 266 fllE STORY OF KENNETT. can git it out of him in the long run, and mayhe I can help you here, two bein' better than one, if one is but a sheep's- head." " I don't sec, Betsy, that I need to call on you." " This way, Gilbert. It 's a strong p'int o' law, I 'va hcerd tell, not that I know much o' law, Goodness knows, nor ever want to, but never mind, it 's a strong p'int when there 's two witnesses to a thing, one to clinch what the t'other drives in ; and you must have a show o' law to work on Alf. Barton, or I 'in much mistaken ! " Gilbert reflected a moment. " It can do no harm," h* then said ; " can you go with me, now ? " " Now 's the time ! If we only git the light of a farden- candle out o' him, it '11 do me a mortal heap o' good ; for with all this rakin' and scrapin' for nothin', I 'm like a heart pan tin' after the water-brooks, though a mouth would be more like it, to my thinkin', when a body 's so awful dry as that comes to ! " The two thereupon took the foot-path down through the frozen fields and the dreary timber of the creek-side, to the Barton farm-house. As they approached the barn, they saw Alfred Barton sitting on a pile of straw and watching Giles, who was threshing wheat. He seemed a little sur- prised at their appearance ; but as Gilbert and he had not met since their interview in the corn-field before the for- mer's departure for Chester, he had no special cause for embarrassment. " Come into the house," he said, leading the way. " No," Gilbert answered, " I came here to speak with you privately. Will you walk down the lane ? " " No objection, of course," said Barton, looking from Gilbert to Miss Lavender, with a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness. " Good news, I hope ; got hold of Sandy'i tracks, at last ? " One of them." * Ah, you don't say so I Where ? ' THE STOEY OF KEXXETT. 267 Here ! " Gilbert stopped and faced Barton. They were below the barn, and out of Giles's bearing. " Barton," he resumed, "you know what interest I have in the arrest of that man, and you won't deny my right to demand of you an account of your dealings with him. When did you first make his acquaintance ? " " I Ve told you that, already ; the matter has been fully talked over between us," Barton answered, in a petulant tone. " It has not been fully talked over. I require to know, first of all, precisely when, and under what circumstances, you and Sandy Flash came together. There is more to come, so let us begin at the beginning." " Damme, Gilbert, you were there, and saw as much as I did. How could I know who the cursed black-whiskered fellow was ? " " But you found it out," Gilbert persisted, " and the manner of your finding it out must be explained." Barton assumed a bold, insolent manner. " I don't see as that follows," he said. " It has nothing in the world to do with bis robbery of you; and as for Sandy Flash, I wish to the Lord you 'd get hold of him, yourself, instead of trying to make me accountable for his comings and goings ! " ' HP. 's tryin to fly off the handle," Miss Lavender re- marked. " I 'd drop that part o' the business a bit, if I was you, and come to the t'other proof." " What the devil have you to do here ? " asked Barton. " Miss Betsy is here because I asked her," Gilbert said. * Because all that passes between us may have to be re- peated in a court of justice, and two witnesses are better than one ! " He took advantage of the shock which these words pro- duced upon Barton, and repeated to him the highwayman's declarations, with the inference they might bear if not sat- 268 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Isfactorily explained. " I kept my promise," lie added, " and said nothing to any living soul of your request that I should carry money for you to Chester. Sandy Flash's information, therefore, must have come, either directly or indirectly, from you." Barton had listened with open mouth and amazed eyes. " Why, the man is a devil ! " he cried. " I, neither, never said a word of the matter to any living soul ! " " Did you really send any money ?" Gilbert asked. " That I did ! I got it of Joel Ferris, and it happened he was bound for Chester, the very next day, on his own business ; and so, instead of turning it over to me, he just paid it there, according to my directions. You '11 under- stand, this is between ourselves ? " He darted a sharp, suspicious glance at Miss Betsy Lav- ender, who gravely nodded her head. " The difficulty is not yet explained," said Gilbert, " and perhaps you '11 now not deny my right to know something more of your first acquaintance with Sandy Flash ? " " Have it then ! " Barton exclaimed, desperately " and much good may it do you ! I thought his name was For- tune, as much as you did, till nine o'clock that night, when he put a pistol to my breast in the woods ! If you think I 'm colloguing with him, why did he rob me under threat of murder, money, watch, and everything ? " " Ah-ha ! " said Miss Lavender, " and so that 's the way your watch has been gittin' mended all this while ? Main- spring broke, as I 've heerd say ; well, I don't wonder ! Gilbert, I guess this much is true. Alf. Barton 'd never live so long without that watch, and that half-peck o' seals, if he could help it!" * This, too, may as well be kept to ourselves," Barton suggested. " It is n't agreeable to a man to have it known that he 's been so taken in as I was, and that 's just the reason why I kept it to myself; and, of course, I should n't like it to get around." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 26? Gilbert could do no less than accept this part of the story, and it rendered his later surmises untenable. Bui the solution which he sought was as far off as ever. " Barton," he said, after a long pause, "will you do your best to help me iu finding out how Sandy Flash got the knowledge ? " " Only show me a way ! The best would be to catcb him and get it from his own mouth." He looked so earnest, so eager, and as far as the traces of cunning in his face would permit so honest, that Gil- bert yielded to a sudden impulse, and said, " I believe you, Barton. I 'vc done you wrong in my thoughts, not willingly, for I don't want to think badly of you or any one else, but because circumstances seemed to drive me to it. It would have been better if you had told me of your robbery at the start." " You 're right there, Gilbert ! I believe I was an out- spoken fellow enough, when I was young, and all the bet- ter for it, but the old man 's driven me into a curst way of keeping dark about everything, and so I go on heaping up trouble for myself." " Trouble for myself. Alf. Barton," said Miss Lavender, " that 's the truest word you 've said this many a day. Murder will out, you know, and so will robbery, and so will other things. More o' your doin's is known, not that they 're agreeabler, but on the contrary, quite the reverse, and as full need to be explained, though it don't seem to matter much, yet it may, who can tell ? And now look here, Gilbert ; my crow is to be picked, and you 've seen the color of it, but never mind, all the same, since Martha's told the Doctor, it can't make much difference to you. And this is all between ourselves, you understand ? " The last words were addressed to Barton, with a comi- cal, unconscious imitation of his own manner. He guessed something of what was coming, though not the whole of it, O O ' O * and again became visibly uneasy ; but he stammered out, 470 THE STORY OF KEXNETT. " Yes ; oh, yes ! of course." Gilbert could form a tolerably correct idea of the shape and size of Miss Lavender's crow. He did not feel sure that this was the proper time to have it picked, or even that it should be picked at all ; but he imagined that Miss Lav- ender had either consulted Martha Deane, or that she; had wise reasons of her own for speaking. He therefore re- mained silent. " First and foremost," she resumed, " I '11 tell you, Alf. Barton, what we know o' your doin's, and then it 's for you to judge whether we '11 know any more. Well, you 've been tryin' to git Martha Deane for a wife, without wantin' her in your heart, but rather the contrary, though it seems queer enough when a body comes to think of it, but never mind ; and your father 's drnv you to it ; and you were of a cold shiver for fear she 'd take you, and yet you want to let on it a'n't settled betwixt and between you oh, you need n't chaw your lips and look yaller about the jaws, it 's the Lord's truth ; and now answer me this, what do you mean ? and maybe you '11 say what right have I got to ask, but never mind, all the same, if I have n't, Gilbert Potter has, for it 's him that Martha Deane has promised to *ake for a husband ! " It was a day of surprises for Barton. In his astonish- ment at the last announcement, he took refuge from the horror of Miss Lavender's first revelations. One thing was settled, all the fruits of his painful and laborious plotting were scattered to the winds. Denial was of no use, but neither could an honest explaration, even if he should force himself to give it, be of any possible service. " Gilbert," he asked, ' is this true ? about you, I mean." "Martha Deane and I are engaged, and were already at the time when you addressed her," Gilbert answered. Then he slowly followed, stealing across the fields and around the stables, to the O back-door of the Unicorn bar-room. It was noticed that, although he drank a good deal that afternoon, his ill- huiaor was not, as usual, diminished thereby. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 273 CHAPTER XXIV. DEB. SMITH TAKES A RESOLUTION. IT was a raw, overcast evening in the early part of Jan- uary Away to the west there was a brownish glimmer in the dark-gray sky, denoting sunset, and from that point there came barely sufficient light to disclose the prominent features of a wild, dreary, uneven landscape. The foreground was a rugged clearing in the forest, just where the crest of a high hill began to slope rapidly down to the Brandywine. The dark meadows, dotted with ir- regular lakes of ice, and long, dirty drifts of unmelted snow, but not the stream itself, could be seen. Across the narrow valley rose a cape, or foreland, of the hills beyond, timbered nearly to the top, and falling, on either side, into deep lateral glens, those warm nooks which the first settlers loved to choose, both from their snug aspect of shelter, and from the cold, sparkling springs of water which every one of them held in its lap. Back of the summits of all the hills stretched a rich, rolling upland, cleared and mapped into spacious fields, but showing everywhere an edge of dark, wintry woods against the darkening sky. In the midst of this clearing stood a rough cabin, 01 rather half-cabin, of logs ; for the back of it was formed by a ledge of slaty rocks, some ten or twelve feet in height, which here cropped out of the hill-side. The raw clay with which the crevices between the logs had been stopped, had fallen out in many places ; the roof of long strips of peeled bark was shrivelled by wind and sun, and held in its place by stones and heavy branches of trees, and t II 374 THE STORY OF KENJSETT. square tower of plastered sticks in one corner very iniper fectly suggested a chimney. There was no inclosed patch of vegetable-ground near, no stable, improvised of com- shocks, for the shelter of cow or pig, and the habitation seemed not only to be untenanted, but to have been for- saken years before. Yet a thin, cautious thread of smoke stole above the rocks, and just as the starless dusk began to deepen into night, a step was heard, slowly climbing upward through the rustling leaves and snapping sticks of the forest. A woman's figure, wearily scaling the hill under a load which almost concealed the upper part of her body, for it con- sisted of a huge wallet, a rattling collection of articles tied in a blanket, and two or three bundles slung over her shoulders with a rope. When at last, panting from the strain, she stood beside the cabin, she shook herself, and the articles, with the exception of the wallet, tumbled to the ground. The latter she set down carefully, thrust her arm into one of the ends and drew forth a heavy jug, which she raised to her mouth. The wind was rising, but its voice among the trees was dull and muffled ; now and then a flake of snow dropped out of the gloom, as if some cow- ardly, insulting creature of the air were spitting at the world under cover of the night. " It 's likely to be a good night," the woman muttered, u and he '11 be on the way by this time. I must put things to rights." She entered the cabin by a narrow door in the southern end. Her first care was to rekindle the smouldering fire from a store of boughs and dry brushwood piled in one corner. When a little flame leaped up from the ashes, it revealed an interior bare and dismal enough, yet very cheery in contrast with the threatening weather outside. The walls were naked logs and rock, the floor of irregular flat stones, and no furniture remained except some part of a cupboard or dresser, near the chimney. Two or threi THE STORY OF KENNETT. 27fl ehort saw-cuts of logs formed as many seats, and the only sign of a bed was a mass of dry leaves, upon which a blanket had been thrown, in a hollow under the overhang- ing base of the rock. Untying the blanket, the woman drew forth three 01 four rude cooking utensils, some dried beef and smoked sausages, and two huge round loaves of bread, and ar- ranged them upon the one or two remaining shelves of the dresser. Then she seated herself in front of the fire, staring into the crackling blaze, which she mechanically fed from time to time, muttering brokenly to herself in the manner of one accustomed to be much alone. " It was a mean thing, after what I 'd said, my word used to be wtith something but times seems to ha' changed. If they have, why should n't I change with 'em, as well 'a anybody else ? Well, why need it matter ? I 've got a bad name. . . . No, that '11 never do ! Stick to what you 're about, or you '11 be wuthlesser, even, than they says you are ! " She shook her hard fist, and took another pull at the jug- " It 's well I laid in a good lot o' that" she said. " No better company for a lonesome night, and it'll stop his cussin', I reckon, anyhow. Eh ? What 's that ? " From the wood came a short, quick yelp, as from some stray dog. She rose, slipped out the door, and peered into the darkness, which was full of gathering snow. After listening a moment, she gave a low whistle. It was not answered, but a stealthy step presently approached, and a form, dividing itself from the gloom, stood at her side. All right, Deb. ? " " Right as I can make it. I've got meat and drink, and I come straight from the Turk's Head, and Jim says the Sheriff 's gone back to Chester, and there 's been nobody out these thiee days. Come in and take bite and sup, and then tell me everything." 276 THE STORY OF KENNETT. They entered the cabin. The door was carefully baned, and then Sandy Flash, throwing off a heavy overcoat, such as the drovers were accustomed to wear, sat down by the fire. His face was redder than its wont, from cold and exposure, and all its keen, fierce lines were sharp and hard. As he warmed his feet and hands at the blaze, and watched Deb. Smith while she set the meat upon the coals, and cut the bread with a heavy hunting-knife, the wary, defiant look of a hunted animal gradually relaxed, and he said, " Faith, Deb., this is better than hidin' in the frost I believe I 'd ha' froze last night, if I had n't got down beside an ox for a couple o' hours. It 's a dog's life they 've led me, and I 've had just about enough of it." " Then why not give it up, Sandy, for good and all ? I '11 go out with you to the Backwoods, after after thing? is settled." " And let 'em brag they frightened me away ! " he ex- claimed, with an oath. " Not by a long shot, Deb. I owe 'em a score for this last chase I '11 make the rich men o' Chester County shake in their shoes, and the officers o the law, and the Volunteers, damme ! before I 've done with 'em. When I go away for good, I '11 leave somethin' behind me for them to remember me by ! " " Well, never mind ; eat a bit the meat 's ready, and see here, Sandy ! I carried this all the way." He seized the jug and took a long draught. " You 're a good 'un, Deb.," he said. " A man is n't half a man when his belly 's cold and empty." He fell to, and ate long and ravenously. Wanned at last, both by fire and fare, and still more by his frequent potations, he commenced the story of his disguises and escapes, laughing at times with boisterous self-admiration, swearing brutally and bitterly at others, over the relentless energy with which he had been pursued. Deb. Smith listened with eager interest, slapping him upon the bach THE STORY OF KENNETT. 277 irith n force of approval which would have felled an ordi- nary man, but which Sandy Flash cheerfully accepted as a caress. " You see," he said at the close. " after I sneaked be- tween Potter's troop and the Sheriffs, and got down into the lower corner o' the county, I managed to jump aboard a grain-sloop bound for Newport, but they were froze in at the mouth o' Christeen ; so I went ashore, dodged around Wilmington, (where I 'm rather too well known,) and come up Whitely Creek as a drover from Mar'land. But from Grove up to here, I 've had to look out mighty sharp, takin' nigh onto two days for what I could go straight through in half a day." " Well, I guess you 're safe here, Sandy," she said ; "they '11 never think o' lookin' for you twice't in the same place. Why did n't you send word for me before ? You 've kep' me a mortal long time a-waitin', and down on the Woodrow farm would ha' done as well as here." " It 's a little too near that Potter. He 'd smell me out as quick as if I was a skunk to windward of him. Besides, it 's time I was pitchin' on a few new holes ; we must talk it over together, Deb." He lifted the jug again to his mouth. Deb. Smith, al- though she had kept nearly even pace with him, was not so sensible to the potency of the liquor, and was watching for the proper degree of mellowness, in order to broach the subject over which she had been secretly brooding since his arrival. " First of all, Sandy," she now said, " I want to talk to you about Gilbert Potter. The man 's my friend, and I thought you cared enough about me to let my friends alone." " So I do, Deb., when they let me alone. I had a right to shoot the fellow, but I let him off easy, as much for youi Bake as because he was carryin' another man's money." tt That 's not true ! " she cried " It was his own nionej 278 THE STORY OF KENNETT. every cent of it, hard-earned money, meant to pay oif his debts ; and I can say it because I helped him earn it mowin' and reapin' beside him in the harvest-field, thrashin beside him in the barn, eatin' at his table, and sleepin' under his roof. I gev him my word he was safe from you, but you 've made me out a liar, with no more thought o' me than if I 'd been a stranger or an enemy ! " " Come, Deb., don't get into your tantrums. Potter may be a decent fellow, as men go, for anything I know, but you 're not beholden to him because he treated you like a Christian as you are. You seem to forgit that he tried to take my life, that he 's hardly yet giv* up huntin' me like a wild beast ! Damn him, if the money was his, which I don't believe, it would n't square accounts between us. You think more o' his money than o' my life, you huzzy ! " " No I don't, Sandy ! " she protested, " no I don't. You know me better 'n that. "What am I here for, to-night ? Have I never helped you, and hid you, and tramped the country for you back and forth, by day and by night, and for what ? Not for money, but because I 'm your wife, whether or not priest or 'squire has said it. I thought you cared for me, I did, indeed ; I thought you might do one thing to please me ! " There was a quivering motion in the muscles of her hard face ; her lips were drawn convulsively, with an ex- pression which denoted weeping, although no tears came to her eyes. " Don't be a fool ! " Sandy exclaimed. " S'pose you have served me, is n't it somethin' to have a man to serve ? What other husband is there for you in the world, than me, the only man that is n't afeard o' your fist ? You Ve done your duty by me, I '11 allow, and so have I done mine by you ! " " Then," she begged, " do this one thing over and above your duty. Do it, Sandy, as a bit o' kindness to me, and put upon me what work you please, till I 've made it up THE STORY CF KEXNETT. 279 to you ! You dunno what it is, maybe, to have one person in the world as shows a sort o' respect for you that gives you his hand honestly, like a gentleman, and your full Chris'en name. It does good when a body 's been banged about as I 've been, and more used to curses than kind words, and not a friend to look after me if I was layin' at Death's door and I don't say you would n't come, Sandy, but you can't And there 's no denyin' that he had the law on his side, and is n't more an enemy than any other man. Maybe he 'd even be a friend in need, as far as. he dared, if you 'd only do it " " Do what ? What in the Devil's name is the woman drivin' at ? " yelled Sandy Flash. " Give back the money ; it 's his'n, not Barton's, I know it Tell me where it is, and I '11 manage the whole thing for you. It 's got to be paid in a month or two, folka says, and they '11 come on him for it, maybe take and sell his farm sell th' only house, Sandy, where I git iny rights, th' only, house where I git a bit o' peace an' com fort ! You would n't be that hard on me ? " The highwayman took another deep drink and rose to his feet His face was stern and threatening. " I 've had enough o' this foolery," he said. " Once and for all Deb., don't you poke your nose into my affairs ! Give back the money ? Tell you where it is ? Pay him for huntin' me down? I could take you by the hair and knock your head ag'in the wall, for them words ! " She arose also and confronted him. The convulsive twitching of her mouth ceased, and her face became as hard and defiant as his. " Sandy Flash, mark my words ! " she exclaimed. " You 're a-goin' the wrong way, when you stop takin' only from the Collectors and the proud rich men, and sparin' the poor. Instead o' doin' good to balance the bad. it '11 soon be all bad, and you no better 'n a common thief ! You need n't show your teeth ; it 'i true, and I say it square to y*r face 1 " 280 TIIE STORY OF KENNETT. She saw the cruel intensity of his anger, but did not flinch. They had had many previous quarrels, in which neither could claim any very great advantage over the other ; but the highwayman was now in an impatient and exasperated mood, and she dared more than she suspected in defying him. " You ! " (the epithet he used cannot be written,) "will you stop your jaw, or shall I stop it for you ? I 'm your master, and 1 give you your orders, and the first order is, Not another word, now and never, about Potter or his money ! " He had never before outraged her by such a word, nevei before so brutally asserted his claim to her obedience. All the hot, indignant force of her fierce, coarse nature rose in resistance. She was thoroughly aroused and fearless. The moment had come, she felt, when the independence which had been her compensation amid all the hardships and wrongs of her life, was threatened, when she must either preserve it by a desperate effort, .or be trampled under foot by this man, whom she both loved and feared, and in that moment, hated. "I'll not hold my jaw!" she cried, with flashing eyes. " Not even at your biddin', Sandy Flash ! I '11 not rest till I have the money out o' you ; there 's no law ag'inst stealiu' from a thief!" The answer was a swift, tremendous blow of the high- wayman's fist, delivered between her eyes. She fell, and lay for a moment stunned, the blood streaming from her face. Then with a rapid movement, she seized the hunt- ing-knife which lay beside the fire, and sprang to her feet The knife was raised in her right hand, and her impulse was to plunge it into his heart. But she could not avoid his eyes ; they caught and held her own, as if by some diabolical fascination. He stood motionless, apparently awaiting the blow. Nothing in his face or attitude ex- pressed fear; only all the power of the man seemed to THE STORY OF KEXXETT. 281 be concentrated in his gaze, and to hold her back. Th.e impulse once arrested, he knew, it would not return. The eyes of each were fixed on the other's, and several minutes of awful silence thus passed. Finally, Deb. Smith slightly shuddered, as if with cold, her hand slowly fell, and without a word she turned away to wash her bloody face. Sandy Flash grinned, took another drink of whiskey, resumed his seat before the fire, and then proceeded to fill his pipe. He lit and smoked it to the end, without turning his head, or seeming to pay the least attention to her move- ments. She, meanwhile, had stopped the flow of blood from her face, bound a rag around her forehead, and lighted her own pipe, without speaking. The highwayman first broke the silence. " As I was a-sayin'," he remarked, in his ordinary tone, M we 've got to look out for new holes, where the scent is n't so strong as about these. What do you think o' th' Octorara ? " " Where ? " she asked. Her voice was hoarse and strange, but he took no notice of it, gazing steadily into the fire as he puffed out a huge cloud of smoke. " Well, pretty well down," he said. " There 's a big bit o' woodland, nigh onto two thousand acres, belongin' to somebody in Baltimore that does n't look at it once't in ten years, and my thinkin' is, it 'd be as safe as the Backwoods. I must go to it 's no difference where to-morrow mornin', but I '11 be back day after to-morrow night, and you need n't stir from here till I come. You Ve grub enough for that long, eh ? " "It '11 do," sle muttered. " Then, that 's enough. I must be off an hour before day, and I 'm devilish fagged and sleepy, so here goes!" With these words he rose, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and stretched himself on the bed of leaves. She con- tinued to smoke her pipe. 282 THE STORY OF KEXNETT. " Deb.," he said, five minutes afterwards, " I 'm not sura o' wakin'. You look out for me, do you hear ? " " I hear," she answered, in the same low, hoarse voice, without turning her head. In a short time Sandy Flash's deep breathing announced that he slept. Then she turned and looked at him with a grim, singular smile, as the waver- ing fire-light drew clear pictures of his face which the darkness as constantly wiped out again. By-and-by she noiselessly moved her seat nearer to the wall, leaned her head against the rough logs, and seemed to sleep. But, even if it were sleep, she was conscious of his least move- ment, and started into alert wakefulness, if he turned, mut- tered in dreams, or crooked a finger among the dead leaves. From time to time she rose, stole out of the cabin and looked at the sky. Thus the night passed away. There was no sign of approaching dawn in the dull, overcast, snowy air; but a blind, animal instinct of time belonged to her nature, and about two hours before sun- rise, she set about preparing a meal. When all was ready, she bent over Sandy Flash, seized him by the shoulder, and shook his eyes open. " Time ! " was all she said. lie sprang up, hastily devoured the bread and meat, and emptied the jug of its last remaining contents. " Hark ye, Deb.," he exclaimed, when he had finished, "you may as well trudge over to the Turk's Head and fill this while I 'm gone. We '11 need all of it, and more, to- iiiorrow night. Here 's a dollar, to pay for 't Now I must be on the tramp, but you may look for me to-morrow, ail hour after sun." He examined his pistols, stuck them in his belt, tl/re\v his drover's cloak over his shoulders, and strode out of tne cabin. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had died away in the cold, dreary gloom, and then threw her- self upon the pallet which he had vacated. This time she slept soundly, until hours after the gray winter day had come up the sky. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 288 Her eyes were nearly closer! by the swollen flesh, and she laid hanclfuls of sno\v upon her face, to cool the inflam- ation. At first, her movements were uncertain, express- ing a fierce conflict, a painful irresolution of feeling ; she picked up the hunting-knife, looked at it with a ghastly smile, and then threw it from her. Suddenly, however, her features changed, and every trace of her former hesi- tation vanished. After hurriedly eating the fragments left from Sandy's breakfast, she issued from the cabin and took a straight and rapid course eastward, up and over the hill. During the rest of that day and the greater part of the next, the cabin was deserted. It was almost sunset, and not more than an hour before Sandy Flash's promised return, when Deb. Smith again made her appearance. Her face was pale, (except for the dark blotches around the eyes,) worn, and haggard ; she seemed to have grown ten years older in the interval. Her first care was to rekindle the fire and place the re- plenished jug in its accustomed place. Then she arranged and rearranged the rude blocks which served for seats, the few dishes and the articles of food on the shelf, and, when all had been done, paced back and forth along the narrow floor, as if pushed by some invisible, tormenting power. Finally a whistle was heard, and in a minute afterwards Sandy Flash entered the door. The bright blaze of the hearth shone upon his bold, daring, triumphant face. " That 's right, Deb.," he said. " I 'm dry and hungry, and here 's a rabbit you can skin and set to broil in no time. Let 's look at you, old gal ! The devil ! I did n't mean to mark you like that. Well, bygones is bygones, and better times is a-comin'." " Sandy ! " she cried, with a sudden, appealing energy, B Sandy once't more ! Won't you do for me what I want o'you?" His face darkened in an instant. "Deb. !" was all the arord he uttered, but she understood the tone. 284 THE STORY OF KENNETT. He took off his pistol-belt and laid it on the shelf. "Laj there, pets ! " he said ; " I won't want you to-night A long tramp it was, and I 'm glad it 's over. Deb., 1 guess I 've nigh tore off one o' my knee-buckles, comin' through the woods." Placing his foot upon one of the logs, he bent down to examine the buckle. Quick as lightning, Deb., who was standing behind him, seized each of his arms, just above the elbows, with her powerful hands, and drew them to- wards each other upon his back. At the same time she uttered a shrill, wild cry, a scream so strange and un- earthly in its character that Sandy Flash's blood chilled to hear it. " Curse you, Deb., what are you doing ? Are you clean wad ? " he ejaculated, struggling violently to free his arms. " Which is strongest now ? " she asked ; " my arms, or your'n ? I 've got you, I '11 hold you, and I '11 only let go when I please ! " He swore and struggled, but he was powerless in her iron grip. In another minute the door of the cabin was suddenly burst open, and two armed men sprang upon him. More rapidly than the fact can be related, they snapped a pair of heavy steel handcuffs upon his wrists, pinioned his arms at his sides, and bound his knees together. Then, and not till then, Deb. Smith relaxed her hold. Sandy Flash made one tremendous muscular effort, to test the strength of his bonds, and then stood motionless. His white teeth flashed between his parted lips, and there was a dull, hard glare in his eyes which told that though struck dumb with astonishment and impotent rage, he was gtill fearless, still unsubdued. Deb. Smith, behind him, leaned against the wall, pale and panting. " A good night's work ! " remarked Chaffcy, the consta- ble, as he possessed himself of the rnusket, pistol-belt, and hunting-knife. " I guess this pitcher won't go to the well any tuoro." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 285 " We 11 sec." Sandy exclaimed, with a sneer. u Yoti 've got me, not through any pluck o' your'n, but through black, underhanded treachery. You 'd better double chain and handcuff me, or I may be too much for you yet ! " " I guess you '11 do," said the constable, examining the cords by the light of a lantern which his assistant had in the mean time fetched from without. " I '11 even untie your knees, for you 've to walk over the hill to the next farm-house, where we '11 find a wagon to carry you to Chester jail. I promise you more comfortable quarters than these, by daylight." The constable then turned to Deb. Smith, who had neither moved nor spoken. " You need n't come with us without you want to," he said. " You can get your share of the money at any time; but you must remember to be ready to appear and testify, when Court meets." " Must I do that ?" she gasped. " Why, to be sure ! It 's a reg'lar part of the trial, and can't be left out, though there 's enough to hang the fellow ten times over, without you." The two unbound Sandy Flash's knees and placed them- selves on each side of him, the constable holding a cocked pistol in his right hand, " March is the word, is it ? " said the highwayman. " "Well, I 'm ready. Potter was right, after all ; he said there 'd be a curse on the money, and there is ; but I never guessed the curse 'd come upon me through yo, Deb. ! " " Oh, Sandy ! " she cried, starting forward, " you druv me to it ! The curse was o' your own makin' and I gev you a last chance to-night, but you th rowed it from you I" " Very well, Deb," he answered, " if I 've got my curse, don't think you '11 not have your'n ! Go down to Chester and git your blood-money, and sec what '11 come of it, and what '11 come to you ! " He turned towards her as he spoke, and the expression 286 THE STORY OF KENNETT. of his face seemed so frightful that she shuddered and coy ered her eyes. The next moment, the old cabin dooi creaked open, fell back with a crash, and she was alone. She stared around at the dreary walls. The sound of their footsteps had died away, and only the winter night- wind wailed through the crannies of the hut. Accustomed as she was to solitary life and rudest shelter, and to the companionship of her superstitious fancies, she had never before felt such fearful loneliness, such overpowering dread. She heaped sticks upon the fire, sat down before it, and drank from the jug. Its mouth was still wet from his lips, and it seemed that she was already drinking down the com- mencement of the curse. Her face worked, and hard, painful groans burst from her lips. She threw herself upon the floor and grovelled there, until the woman's relief which she had almost un- learned forced its forgotten way, through cramps and ago- nies, to her eyes. In the violent passion of her weeping and moaning, God saw and pitied, that night, the struggles of a dumb, ignorant, yet not wholly darkened nature. Two hours afterwards she arose, sad, stern, and deter- mined, packed together the things she had brought with her, quenched the fire (never again to be relighted) upon the hearth, and took her way, through cold and darkneaa, down the valley. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 287 CHAPTER XXV. TWO ATTEMPTS. THE news of Sand) Flash's capture ran like wildfire through the county. As the details became more correctly known, there was great rejoicing but greater surprise, foi Deb. Smith's relation to the robber, though possibly sur- mised by a few, was unsuspected by the community at large. In spite of the service which she had rendered by betraying her paramour into the hands of justice, a bitter feeling of hostility towards her was developed amonp the people, and she was generally looked upon as an accom- plice to Sandy Flash's crimes, who had turned upon him only when she had ceased to profit by them. The public attention was thus suddenly drawn away from Gilbert Potter, and he was left to stiuggle, as he best might, against the difficulties entailed by his loss. He had corresponded with Mr. Trainer, the conveyancer in Ches- ter, and had learned that the money still due must not only be forthcoming on the first of April, but that it probably could not be obtained there. The excitement for buying lands along the Alleghany, Ohio, and Beaver rivers, in western Pennsylvania, had seized upon the few capitalists of the place, and Gilbert's creditor had already been sub- jected to inconvenience and possible loss, as one result of the robbery. Mr. Trainer therefore suggested that he should make a new loan in his own neighborhood, where the spirit of speculation had not yet reached. The advice was prudent and not unfriendly, although of a kind more easy to give than to carry into execution. Mark's money-belt had been restored, greatly against the 288 THE STORY OF EENNETT. will of the good-hearted fellow (who would have cheerfully lent Gilbert the whole amount had he possessed it), and there was enough grain yet to be threshed and sold, to yield something more than a hundred dollars ; but this was all which Gilbert could count upon from his own resources. He might sell the wagon and one span of horses, reducing by their value the sum which he would be obliged to bor- row; yet his hope of recovering the money in another jear could only be realized by retaining them, to continue, from time to time, his occupation of hauling flour. Although the sympathy felt for him was general and very hearty, it never took the practical form of an offer of assistance, and he was far too proud to accept that plan of relief which a farmer, whose barn had been struck by lightning and consumed, had adopted, the previous year, going about the neighbor-hood with a subscription-list, and soliciting contributions. His nearest friends were as poor as, or poorer than, himself, and those able to aid him felt no call to tender their services. Martha Deane knew of this approaching trouble, not from Gilbert's own lips, for she had seen him but once and very briefly since his return from the chase of Sandy Flash. It was her cousin Mark, who, having entered into an alli- ance, offensive and defensive, with her lover, betrayed (con- sidering that the end sanctioned the means) the confidence reposed in him. The thought that her own coming fortune lay idle, while Gilbert might be saved by the use of a twentieth part of it, gave Martha Deane no peace. The whole belonged to him prospectively, yet would probably be of less service when it should be legally her own to give, than the frag- ment which now would lift him above anxiety and humilia tion. The money had been bequeathed to her by a mater- nal aunt, whose name she bore, and the provisions by which the bequest was accompanied, so light and reasonable be fore now seemed harsh and unkind. THE STORY OF KEXNETT. 289 The payment of the whole sum, or any part of it, she saw, could not be anticipated. But she imagined there must be a way 1o obtain a loan of the necessary amount, with the bequest as security. With her. ignorance of busi ness matters, she felt the need of counsel in this emer- gency ; yet her father was her guardian, and there seemed to be no one else to whom she could properly apply. Not Gilbert, for she fancied he might reject the assistance she designed, and therefore she meant to pay the debt before it became due, without his knowledge ; nor Mark, nor Farmer Fairthorn. Betsy Lavender, when appealed to, shook her head, and remarked, " Lord bless you, child ! a wuss snarl than ever. I 'm gittin' a bit skeary. when you talk o' law and money mat- ters, and that 's the fact. Not that I find fault with your wishin' to do it, but the contrary, and there might be ways, as you say, only I 'm not lawyer enough to find 'em, and as to advisin' where I don't see my way clear, Defend me from it!" Thus thrown back upon herself, Martha was forced to take the alternative which she would gladly have avoided, and from which, indeed, she hoped nothing, an appeal to her father. Gilbert Potter's name had not again beet O mentioned between them. She, for her part, had striven to maintain her usual gentle, cheerful demeanor, and it is probable that Dr. Deane made a similar attempt ; but he could not conceal a certain coldness and stiffness, which made an uncomfortable atmosphere in their little house- hold. " Well, Betsy," Martha said (they were in her room, up- stairs), " Father has just come in from the stable, I see. Since there is no other way, I will go down and ask his advice." " You don't mean it, child ! " cried the spinster. Martha left the room, without answer. u She 's got that from him, anyhow," Miss Betsy remarked, 290 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " and which o* the two is stubbornest, I could n't under take to say. If he 's dead-set on the wrong side, woyi she 's j 1st as dead-set on the right side, and that makes a mortal difference. . I don't see why I should be all of a trimble, that only sets here and waits, while she 's stickin' her head into the lion's mouth ; but so it is ! Is n't about time for you to be doin' something Betsy Lavender ! " Martha Deane entered the front sitting-room with a grave, deliberate step. The Doctor sat at his desk, with a pair of heavy silver-rimmed spectacles on his nose, looking over an antiquated "Materia Medica." His upper lip seemed to have become harder and thinner, at the expense of the under one, which pouted in a way that expressed vexation and ill-temper. He was, in fact, more annoyed than he would have confessed to any human being. Alfred Barton's visits had discontinued, and he could easily guess the reason. Moreover, a suspicion of Gilbert Potter's re lation to his daughter was slowly beginning to permeate the neighborhood ; and more than once, within the last few days, all his peculiar diplomacy had been required to parry a direct question. He foresaw that the subject would soon come to the notice of his elder brethi-en among the Friends, who felt self-privileged to rebuke and remonstrate, even in family matters of so delicate a nature. It was useless, the Doctor knew, to attempt coercion with Martha. If any measure could succeed in averting the threatened shame, it must be kindly persuasion, coupled with a calm, dispassionate appeal to her understanding. The quiet, gentle way in which she had met his anger, he now saw, I ad left the advantage of the first encounter on her side. His male nature and long habit of rule made an equal self-control very difficult, on his part, and he resolved to postpone a recurrence to the subject until he should feel able to meet his daughter with her own weapons. Proba- bly some reflection of the kir.d then occupied his mind, ic spite of the " Materia Medica " before him, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 29) "Father," said Martha, seating herself with a bit of (sewing in her hand, " I want to ask thec a few questions about business matters." The Doctor looked at her. " Well, thee 's taking a new turn," he remarked. "Is it anything very important?" ' Very important," she answered ; ' it 's about my o\rn fortune." " I thought thee understood, Martha, that that matter was all fixed and settled, until thee 's twenty-five, unless unless " Here the Doctor hesitated. He did not wish to intro- duce the sore subject of his daughter's marriage. " I know what thee means, father. Unless I should sooner marry, with thy consent. But I do not expect to marry now, and therefore do not ask thy permission. What I want to know is, whether I could not obtain a loan of a small sum of money, on the security of the legacy ? " " That depends on circumstances," said the Doctor, slowly, and after a long pause, during which he endear ored to guess his daughter's design. " It might be, yes, it might be ; but, Martha, surely thee does n't want for money ? Why should thee borrow ? " " Could n't thee suppose, father, that I need it for some good purpose ? I 've always had plenty, it is true ; but I don't think thee can say I ever squandered it foolishly or thoughtlessly. This is a case where I wish to make an investment, a permanent investment." "Ah, indeed? I always fancied thee cared less for money than a prudent woman ought. How much might this investment be ? " "About six hundred dollars," she answered. " Six hundred ! " exclaimed the Doctor ; " that 's a large sum to venture, a large sum ! Since thee can only raise it with my help, thee '11 certainly admit my right, as thy legal guardian, if not as thy father, to ask where, how, and on viiat security the money will be invested ? " 292 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Maltha hesitated only long enough to reflect that her father's assertion was probably true, arid without his aid she could do nothing. " Father," she then said, "/am the security." " I don't understand thee, child." " I mean that my whole legacy will be responsible to the lender for its repayment in three years from this time. The security /ask, I have in advance ; it is the happiness of my life ! " " Martha ! thee does n't mean to say that thee would r Dr. Deane could get no further. Martha, with a sorrow- ful half- smile, took up his word. " Yes, father, I would. Lest thee should not have un- derstood me right, I repeat that I would, and will, lift the mortgage on Gilbert Potter's farm. He has been very unfortunate, and there is a call for help which nobody heeds as he deserves. If I give it now, I simply give a part in advance. The whole will be given afterwards." Dr. Deane's face grew white, and his lip trembled, in spite of himself. It was a minute or two before he ven- tured to say, in a tolerably steady voice, " Thee still sets up thy right (as thee calls it) against mine, but mine is older built and will stand. To help thee to this money would only be to encourage thy wicked fancy for the man. Of course, I can't do it ; I wonder thee should expect it of me. I wonder, indeed, thee should think of taking as a husband one who borrows money of thee almost as soon as he has spoken his mind !" For an instant Martha Deane's eyes flashed. " Father ! " she cried, " it is not so ! Gilbert does n't even know my desire to help him. I must ask this of thee, to speak no evil of him in my hearing. It would only give me unne- cessary pain, not shake my faith in his honesty and good- ness. I see thee will not assist me, and so I must en- deavor to find whether the thing cannot be done without thy assistance. In three years more the legacy will be THE STORY OF KENNETT. mine , I shall go to Chester, and consult a lawyer, whether my own note for that time could not be accepted ! " " I can spare thee the trouble." the Doctor said. " In case of thy death before the three years are out, who is to pay the note ? Half the money falls to me, and half to thy uncle Richard. Thy aunt Martha was wise. It truly seems as if she had foreseen just what has happened, and meant to baulk thy present rashness. Thee may go to Chester, and welcome, if thee doubts my word ; but unless thee can give positive assurance that thee will be alive in three years' time, I don't know of any one foolish enough to advance thee money." The Doctor's words were cruel enough ; he might have spared his triumphant, mocking smile. Martha's heart sank within her, as she recognized her utter helplessness. Not yet, however, would she give up the sweet hope of bringing aid ; for Gilbert's sake she would make another appeal. " I won't charge thee, father, with being intentionally un- kind. It would almost seem, from thy words, that thee is rather glad than otherwise, because my life is uncertain. If I should die, would thee not care enough for my memory to pay a debt, the incurring of which brought me peace and happiness during life ? Then, surely, thee would forgive thy. heart is not so hard as thee would have me believe , thee wishes me happiness, I cannot doubt, but thinks it will come in thy way, not in mine. Is it not possible to grant me this only this and leave everything else to time?" Dr. Deane was touched and softened by his daughter's words. Perhaps he might even have yielded to her en- treaty at once, had not a harsh and selfish condition pre- sented itself in a very tempting form to his mind. ' Martha," he said, " I fancy that thee looks upon this matter of the loan in the light of a duty, and will allow that thy motives may be weighty to thy own mind. I ask thee to calm thyself, and consider things clearly. If I grant thj 294 THE STORY OF KENNETT. request, I Jo so against my own judgment, yea, since it concerns thy interests, against my own conscience. Thus is not a thing to be lightly done, and if I should }ield, I might reasonably expect some little sacrifice of present inclination yet all for thy future good on thy part I would cheerfully borrow the six hundred dollars for thee. or make it up from my own means, if need be, to know that the prospect of thy disgrace was averted. Thee sees no disgrace, I am aware, and pity that it is so ; but if thy feeling for the young man is entirely pure and unselfish, it should be enough to know that thee had saved him from ruin, without considering thyself bound to him for life." The Doctor sharply watched his daughter's face while he spoke. She looked up, at first, with an eager, wonder- ing light of hope in her eyes, a light that soon died away, and gave place to a cloudy, troubled expression. Then the blood rose to her checks, and her lips assumed the clear, firm curve which always reflected the decisions of her mind. " Father," she said, " I see thee has learned how to tempt, as well as threaten. For the sake of doing a pres- ent good, thee would have me bind myself to do a life-long injustice. Thee would have me take an external duty to balance a violation of the most sacred conscience of my heart. How little thee knows me ! It is not alone that I am necessary to Gilbert Potter's happiness, but also that he is necessary to mine. Perhaps it is the will of Heaven that so great a bounty should not come to me too easily, and I must bear, without murmuring, that my own father is set against me. Thee may try me, if thee desires, for the com- ing three years, but I can tell thee as well, now, what the end will be. Why not rather tempt me by offering the money Gilbert needs, on the condition of my giving up the rest of the legacy to thee ? That would be a temptation, I confess." * No ! " lie exclaimed, with rising exasperation, " if thee THE STORY OF KEXXETl 298 oas hnrdcncd thy heart against all my counsels for thy good, I will at least keep my own conscience free. I will not help thee by so much as the moving of a finger. All 1 can do is, to pray that thy stubborn mind may be bent, and gradually led back to the Light!" He put away the book, took his cane and broad-brimmed hat, and turned to leave the room. Martha rose, with a sad but resolute face, and went up-stairs to her chamber. Miss Betsy Lavender, when she learned all that had been said, on both sides, was thrown into a state of great agita- tion and perplexity of mind. She stared at Martha Deaue, without seeming to see her, and muttered from time to time such fragmentary phrases as, "If I was right-down sure," or, "It 'd only be another weepon tried and throwed away, at the wust" "What are you thinking of, Betsy?" Martha finally asked. " Thinkin' of? Well, I can't rightly tell you. It 's a bit o' knowledge that come in my way, once't upon a time, never meanin' to make use of it in all my born days, and I would n't now, only for your two sakes ; not that it con- cerns you a mite ; but nevef- mind, there 's ten thousand ways o' workin' on men's minds, and I can't do no more than try my way." Thereupon Miss Lavender arose, and would have de- scended to the encounter at once, had not Martha wisely entreated her to wait a day or two, until the irritation aris- ing from her own interview had had time to subside in her father's mind. " It 's puttin' me on nettles, now that I mean fast and firm to do it ; but you 're quite right, Martha," the spinster said. Three or four days afterwards she judged the proper ime had arrived, and boldly entered the Doctor's awful presence. " Doctor," she began, " I 've come to have a lit- Ue talk, and it 's no use beatin' about the bush, plainness o' speech bcin' one o' my ways ; not that folks always thinks 296 THE STORY OP KENNETT. it a virtue, but oftentimes the contrary, and so may you, maybe ; bin. when there 's a worry in a house, it 's better whatsoever and whosoever, to have it come to a head than go on achin' and achin', like a blind bile ! " " H'm," snorted the Doctor, " I see what thee 's driving at, and I may as well tell thee at once, that if thee comes to me from Martha, I 've heard enough from her, and more than enough." " More 'n enough," repeated Miss Lavender. a But you 're wrong. I come neither from Martha, nor yet from Gilbert Potter ; but I 've been thinkin' that you and me, bein' old, in a measure, that is, and not so direckly con- cerned, might talk the thing over betwixt and between us, and maybe come to a better understandin' for both sides." Dr. Deane was not altogether disinclined to accept this proposition. Although Miss Lavender sometimes annoyed him, as she rightly conjectured, by her plainness of speech, he had great respect for her shrewdness and her practical wisdom. If he could but even partially win her to his views, she would be a most valuable ally. " Then say thy say, Betsy," he assented. "Thy say, Betsy. Well, first and foremost, I guess we may look upon Alf. Barton's courtin' o' Martha as broke off for good, the fact bein' that he never wanted to have her, as he s told me since with his own mouth." " What ? " Dr. Deane exclaimed. " With his own mouth," Miss Lavender repeated. "And as to his reasons for lettin' on, I don't know 'em. May bo you can guess 'em, as you seem to ha' had everything cut and dried betwixt and between you ; but that 's neither here nor there Alf. Barton bein' out o' the way, why, the coast 's clear, and so Gilbert's case is to be considered by itself; and let's come to the p'int, namely, what you've got ag'in him ? " " I wonder thee can ask, Betsy ! He 's poor, he 's base- born, without position or influence in tl.e neighborhood, TIIE STORY OF KENNETT. 297 tn no way a husband for Martha Deane ! If her head *a turned because he has been robbed, and marvellously saved, and talked about, I suppose I must wait till she comes to her right senses." " I rather expect," Miss Lavender gravely remarked, "Inat they were bespoke before all that happened, and it's not a case o' suddent fancy, but somethin' bred in the bone and not to be cured by plasters. We won't talk o' that now, but come back to Gilbert Potter, and I dtinno as you 're quite right in any way about his bein's and doin's. With that farm o' his'n, he can't be called poor, and I should n't wonder, though T can't give no proofs, but never mind, wait awhile and you '11 see, that he 's not base-born, after all ; 'and as for respect in the neighborhood, there 's not a man more respected nor looked up to, so the last p'int 'a settled, and we '11 take the t' other two ; and I s'pose you mean his farm is n't enough ? " " Thee 's right." Dr. Dcane said. " As Martha's guard- ian, I am bound to watch over her interests, and every prudent man will agree with me that her husband ought at least to be as well off as herself." " Well, all I 've got to say, is, it 's lucky for you that Naomi Blake did n't think as you do, when she married you. What 's sass for the goose ought to be sass for the gander (meanin* you and Gilbert), and every prudent man will asrroe with me." O This was a home-thrust, which Dr. Deane was not able to parry. Miss Lavender had full knowledge whereof she affirmed, and the Doctor knew it. " I admit that there might be other advantages," he said, rather pompously, covering his annoyance with a pinch of snuff, " advantages which partly balance the want of property. Perhaps Naomi Blake thought so too. But here, I think, it would be hard for thee to find such. Or does thee mean that the man's disgraceful birth is a recom- mendation ? " 298 THE STORY 0* KENNETT. " Recommendation ? No ! " Miss Lavender cuitly re- plied. " We need go no further, then. Admitting thee 's right in all other respects, here is cause enough for me. I put it to thee, as a sensible woman, whether I would not cover both myself and Martha with shame, by allowing her mar- riage with Gilbert Potter ? " Miss Lavender sat silently in her chair and appeared to meditate. " Thee does n't answer," the Doctor remarked, after a pause. " T dunno how it come about," she said, lifting her head and fixing her dull eyes on vacancy ; " I was thinkin' o' the time I was up at Strasburg, while your brother was livin', more 'n twenty year ago. With all his habitual self-control and gravity of deport- ment, Dr. Deane could not repress a violent start of sur- prise. He darted a keen, fierce glance at Miss Betsy's face, but she was staring at the opposite wall, apparently unconscious of the effect of her words. " I don't see what that has to do with Gilbert Potter/' he presently said, collecting himself with an effort. " Nor I, neither," Miss Lavender absently replied, " only it happened that I knowed Eliza Little, her that used to live at the Gap, you know, and just afore she died, that fall the fever was so bad, and I nussin' her, and not an- other soul awake in the house, she told me a secret about your brother's boy, and I must say few men would ha' acted as Henry done, and there 's more 'n one mighty be- holden to him." Dr. Deane stretched out his hand as if he would close her mouth. His face was like fire, and a wild expression of fear and pain shot from his eyes. " Betsy Lavender," he said, in a hollow voice, " thee is a terrible woman. Thee forces even the secrets of the dying from them, and brings up knowledge that should THE STORY OF KENNETT. 299 be hidden forever. What can all this avail thee ? Why does thee threaten me with appearances, that cannot now IK; explained, all the witnesses being dead ? " " Witnesses beiu' dead," she repeated. " Arc you sorry for that ? " He stared at her in silent consternation. " Doctor," she said, turning towards him for the first time, " there 's no livin' soul that knows, except you and me, and if I seem hard, I 'm no harder than the knowl- edge in your own heart. What 's the difference, in the sight o' the Lord, between the one that has a bad name D and the one that has a good name ? Come, you set your- self up for a Chris'en, and so I ask you whether you 're the one that ought to fling the first stone ; whether repentance and there 's that, of course, for you a'n't a nateral bad man. Doctor, but rather the contrary ought n't to be showed in deeds, to be wuth much ! You 're set ag'in Martha, and your pride 's touched, which I can't say as I wonder at, all folks havin' pride, me among the rest, not that I 've much to be proud of, Goodness knows ; but never mind, don't you talk about Gilbert Pot- ter in that style, leastways before me ! " During this speech, Dr. Deane had time to reflect Al- though aghast at the unexpected revelation, he had not wholly lost his cunning. It was easy to perceive what Miss Lavender intended to do with the weapon in her hands, and his aim was to render it powerless. " Betsy," he said, " there 's one thing thee won't deny, that, if there was a fault, (which I don't allow), it has been expiated. To make known thy suspicions would bring sorrow and trouble upon two persons for whom thee professes to feel some attachment ; if thee could prove what thee thinks, it would be a still greater misfortune for them than for me. They are young, and my time is nearly spent We all have serious burdens which we must bear alone, and thee must n't forget that the same consideration 800 THE STORY OF KENXET1. for the opinion of men which keeps thee silent, keeps m from consenting to Martha's marriage with Gilbert Potter. We are bound alike." " We 're not ! " she cried, rising from her scat. " But I see it 's no use to talk any more, now. Perhaps since you know that there 's a window in you, and me lookiu' in. you '11 try and keep th' inside o' your house in better order. Whether I '11 act accordin' to my knowledge or not, depends on how things turns out, and so sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, or however it goes ! " With these words she left the room, though foiled, not entirely hopeless. " It 's like buttin' over an old stone-wall," she said to Martha. " The first hit with a rammer seems to come ba<:k onto you, and jars y'r own bones, and may be the next, and the next ; and then little stones git out o' place, and then the wall shakes, and comes down, and so we 've been a-doiu'. I guess I made a crack to-day, but we '11 see." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 801 CHAPTER XXVL THE LAST OF SANDY FLASH. THE winter crept on, February was drawing to a close, and still Gilbert Potter had not ascertained whence the money was to be drawn which would relieve him from embarrassment. The few applications he had made were failures ; some of the persons really had no money to in- vest, and others were too cautious to trust a man who, as everybody knew, had been unfortunate. In five weeks more the sum must be made up, or the mortgage would be foreclosed. Both Mary Potter and her son, in this emergency, seemed to have adopted, by accident or sympathy, the same policy towards each other, to cheer and encourage, in every possible way. Gilbert carefully concealed his humiliation, on returning home from an unsuccessful ap- peal for a loan, and his mother veiled her renewed sinking of the heart, as she heard of his failure, under a cheerful hope of final success, which she did not feel. Both had, in fact, one great consolation to fall back upon, she that he had been mercifully saved to her, he that he was be- loved by a noble woman. All the grain that could be spared and sold placed but little more than a hundred dollars in Gilbert's hands, and he began seriously to consider whether he should not be obliged to sell his wagon and team. He had been offered a hundred and fifty dollars, (a very large sum, in those days,) for Roger, but he would as soon have sold his own right arm. Not even to save the farm would he have SOI THE STORY OF KENNETT. parted with the faithful animal. Mark Deane persisted in increasing his seventy-five dollars to a hundred, and forcing the loan upon his friend ; so one third of the amount was secure, and there was still hope for the rest. It is not precisely true that there had been no offer of assistance. There was one, which Gilbert half-suspected had been instigated by Betsy Lavender. On a Saturday afternoon, as he visited Kennett Square to have Roger's fore-feet shod, he encountered Alfred Barton at the black- smith's shop, on the same errand. " The man I wanted to see ! " cried the latter, as Gilbert dismounted. " Ferris was in Chester last week, and he saw Chaffey, the constable, you know, that helped catch Sandy ; and Chaffey told him he was sure, from something Sandy let fall, that Deb. Smith had betrayed him out of revenge, because he robbed you. I want to know how it all hangs together." Gilbert suddenly recalled Deb. Smith's words, on the day after his escape from the inundation, and a suspicion of the truth entered his mind for the first time. " It must have been so ! " he exclaimed. " She has been a better friend to me than many people of better name." Barton noticed the bitterness of the remark, and possi- bly drew his own inference from it He looked annoyed for a moment, but presently beckoned Gilbert to one side, and said, " I don't know whether you 've given up your foolish suspicions about me and Sandy ; but the trial comes off next week, and you '11 have to be there as a witness, of course, and can satisfy yourself, if you please, that my ex- planation was nothing but the truth. I 've not felt so jolly in twenty years, as when I heard that the fellow was really in the jug ! " " I told you I believed your words," Gilbert answered, "and that settles the matter. Perhaps I shall find out THE STORY OF KENNETT. 808 how Sandy learned what you said to me that evening, on the back-porch of the Unicorn, and if so, I am bound to let you know it" " See here, Gilbert ! " Barton resumed. " Folks say yon must borrow the money you lost, or the mortgage on your form will be foreclosed. Is that so ? and how much money might it be, altogether, if you don't mind telling ? " " Not so much, if those who have it to lend, had a little faith in me, some four or five hundred dollars." "That ought to be got, without trouble," said Barton. u If I had it by me, I 'd lend it to you in a minute ; but you know I borrowed from Ferris myself, and all o' my own is so tied up that I could n't move it without the old man getting on my track. I '11 tell you what I '11 do, though ; I '11 indorse your note for a year, if it can be kept a matter between ourselves and the lender. On ac- count of the old man, you understand." The offer was evidently made in good faith, and Gilbert hesitated, reluctant to accept it, and yet unwilling to reject it in a manner that might seem unfriendly. " Barton," he said at last, " I 've never yet failed to meet a money obligation. All my debts, except this last, have been paid on the day I promised, and it seems a little hard that my own name, alone, should n't be good for as much as I need. Old Fairthorn would give me his indorsement, but I won't ask for it ; and I mean no offence when I say that I 'd rather get along without yours, if I can. It 's kind in you to make the offer, and to show that I 'm not ungrateful, I '11 beg you to look round among your rich friends and help me to find the loan." " You 're a mighty independent fellow, Gilbert, but 1 can't say as I blame you for it. Yes, I '11 look round ii> a few days, and maybe I '11 stumble on the right man by the time I see you again." When Gilbert returned home, he communicated this slight prospect of relief to his mother. " Perhaps I am 004 THE STORY OF KENNETT. a little too proud," he said ; " but you 've always taught me, mother, to be beholden to no man, if I could help it ; and I should feel more uneasy under an obligation to Barton than to most other men. You know I must go to Chester in a few days, and must wait till I 'm called to testify. There will then be time to look around, and perhaps Mr, Trainer may help me yet." " You 're right, boy ! " Mary Potter cried, with flashing eyes. " Keep your pride ; it 's not of the mean kind ! Don't ask for or take any man's indorsement ! " Two days before the time when Gilbert was summoned to Chester, Deb. Smith made her appearance at the farm. She entered the barn early one morning, with a bundle in her hand, and dispatched Sam, whom she found in the stables, to summon his master. She looked old, weather- beaten, and haggard, and her defiant show of strength was gone. In betraying Sandy Flash into the hands of justice, she had acted from a fierce impulse, without reflecting upon the inevitable consequences of the step. Perhaps she did not suspect that she was also betraying herself, and more than confirming all the worst rumors in regard to her char- acter. In the universal execration which followed the knowledge of her lawless connection with Sandy Flash, and her presumed complicity in his crimes, the merit of her service to the county was lost. The popular mind, knowing nothing of her temptations, struggles, and suffer- ings, was harsh, cold, and cruel, and she felt the weight of its verdict as never before. A few persons of her own ignorant class, who admired her strength and courage in their coarse way, advised her to hide until the first fury of the storm should be blown over. Thus she exaggerated the danger, and even felt uncertain of her reception by the very man for whose sake she had done the deed and ac- cepted the curse. Gilbert, however, when he saw her worn, anxious THE STORY OF KENNETT. 808 tie eyes, like those of a dumb animal, lifted to his with an appeal which she knew not how to speak, felt a pang of compassionate sympathy. " Deborah ! " he said, " you don't look well ; come into the house and warm yourself! " " No ! " she cried, " I won't darken your door till you Ve heerd what I Ve got to say. Go 'way, Sam ; I want to speak to Mr. Gilbert, alone." Gilbert made a sign, and Sam sprang down the ladder, to the stables under the threshing-floor. " Mayhap you 've heerd already," she said. " A blotch on a body's name spreads fast and far. Mine was black enough before, God knows, but they 've blackened it more." " If all I hear is true," Gilbert exclaimed, " you Ve blackened it for my sake, Deborah. I 'm afraid you thought I blamed you, in some way, for not preventing my loss ; but I 'm sure you did what you could to save me from it ! " " Ay, lad, that I did ! But the devil seemed to ha' got into him. Awful words passed between us, and then the devil got into me, and you know what follered. He would n't believe the money was your'n, or I don't think he 'd ha' took it ; he was n't a bad man at heart, Sandy was n't, only stubborn at the wrong times, and brung it onto himself by that. But you know what folks says about me?" u I don't care what they say, Deborah ! " Gilbert cried. u I know that you are a true and faithful friend to me, and I Ve not had so many such in my life that I 'm likely to forget what you Ve tried to do ! " Her hard, melancholy face became at once eager and tender. She stepped forward, put her hand on Gilbert's arm, and said, in a hoarse, earnest, excited whisper, " Then maybe you '11 take it ? I was almost afeard to x you, I thought you might push me away, like the rest 806 THE STORY OF KENNETT of 'em ; but you *11 take it, and that 11 seem like a liftta* of the curse ! You won't mind how it was got, will you i I had to git it in that way, because no other was left to me!" " What do you mean, Deborah ? " "The money, Mr. Gilbert! They allowed me hal though the constables was for thirds, but the Judge said I 'd arned the full half, God knows, ten thousand times would n't pay me ! and I 've got it here, tied up safe. It 's your'n, you know, and maybe there a'n't quite enough, but as fur as it goes ; and I '11 work out the amount o' the rest, from time to time, if you '11 let me come onto your place ! " Gilbert was powerfully and yet painfully moved. He forgot his detestation of the relation in which Deb. Smith had stood to the highwayman, in his gratitude for her devo- tion to himself. He felt an invincible repugnance towards accepting her share of the reward, even as a loan ; it was "blood-money," and to touch it in any way was to be stained with its color ; yet how should he put aside her kindness without inflicting pain upon her rude nature, made sensitive at last by abuse, persecution, and remorse ? His face spoke in advance of his lips, and she read its language with wonderful quickness. " A.h ! " she cried, " I mistrusted how it 'd be ; you don't want to say it right out, but I '11 say it for you ! You think the money 'd bring you no luck, maybe a downright curse, and how can I say it won't ? Ha'n't it cursed me ? Sandy said it would, even as your'n follered him. What 's it good for, then ? It burns my hands, and them that 'a clean, won't touch it There, you damned devil's-bait, my arm 's sore, and my heart 's sore, wi' the weight o' you ! " With these words she flung the cloth, with its bunch of hard silver coins, upon the threshing-floor. It clashed like the sound of chains. Gilbert saw that she was sorely hurt Tears of disappointment, which she vainly strove to hold THE STORY OF KENNETT. 307 back, rose to her eyes, as she grimly folded her arms, and facing him, said, " Now, what am I to do ? " " Stay here for the present, Deborah," he answered. " Eh ? A'n't I summonsed ? The job I undertook is n't done yet ; the wust part 's to come ! Maybe they '11 let me off from puttin' the rope round his neck, but I a'n't sure o' that ! " " Then come to me afterwards," he said, gently, striving to allay her fierce, self-accusing mood. " Remember that you always have a home and a shelter with me, whenever you need them. And I '11 take your money," he added, picking it up from the floor, " take it in trust for you, until the time shall come when you will be willing to use ft. Now go in to my mother." The woman was softened and consoled by his words But she still hesitated. u Maybe she won't she wont " " She will ! " Gilbert exclaimed. u But if you doubt, wait here until I come back." Mary Potter earnestly approved of his decision, to take charge of the money, without making use of it. A strong, semi-superstitious influence had so entwined itself with her fate, that she even shrank from help, unless it came in an obviously pure and honorable form. She measured the fulness of her coming justification by the strict integrity of the means whereby she sought to deserve it Deb. Smith, in her new light, was no welcome guest, and with al her coarse male strength, she was still woman enough to guess the fact ; but Mary Potter resolved to think only that her son had been served and befriended. Keeping thai service steadily before her eyes, she was able to take the outcast's hand, to give her shelter and food, and, oetter still, to soothe her with that sweet, unobtrusive consolation which only a woman can bestow, which steals by avenues of benevolent cunning into a nature that would repel f direct expression of sympathy. 308 THE STORY OF KENNETT. The next morning, however, Deb. Smith left the house, saying to Gilbert, " You won't see me ag'in, without it may be in Court, till after all 's over ; and then I may have to ask you to hide me for awhile. Don't mind what I 've said ; I Ve no larnin', and can't always make out the rights o' things, and sometimes it seems there 's two Sandys, good 'un and a bad 'un, and meanin co punish one, I 've ruined 'em both ! " When Gilbert reached Chester, the trial was just about te commence. The little old town on the Delaware was crowded with curious strangers, not only from all parts of the county, but even from Philadelphia and the opposite New-Jersey shore. Every one who had been summoned to testify was beset by an inquisitive circle, and none more so than himself. The Court-house was packed to suffoca- tion ; and the Sheriff, heavily armed, could with difficulty force a way through the mass. When the clanking of the prisoner's irons was heard, all the pushing, struggling, murmuring sounds ceased until the redoubtable highway- man stood in the dock. He looked around the Court-room with his usual defiant air, and no one observed any change of expression, as his eyes passed rapidly over Deb. Smith's face, or Gilbert Pot- ter's. His hard red complexion was already beginning to fade in confinement, and his thick hair, formerly close- cropped for the convenience of disguises, had grown out in not ungraceful locks. He was decidedly a handsome man, and his bearing seemed to show that he was conscious of the fact. The trial commenced. To the astonishment of all, and, as it was afterwards reported, against the advice of his counsel, the prisoner plead guilty to some of the specifica- tions of the indictment, while he denied others. The Col- lectors whom he had plundered were then called to the witness-stand, but the public seemed to manifest less inter- est in the loss of its owr money, than in the few case? THE STORY OP KENNETT. 308 where private individuals had suffered, anv. waited impa- tiently for the latter. Deb. Smith had so long borne the curious gaze of hun- dreds of eyes, whenever she lifted her head, that when her turn came, she was able to rise and walk forward without betraying any emotion. Only when she was confronted with Sandy Flash, and he met her with a wonderfully strange, serious smile, did she shudder for a moment and hastily turn away. She gave her testimony in a hard, firm voice, making her statements as brief as possible, and vol unteering nothing beyond what was demanded. On being dismissed from the stand, she appeared to hes- itate. Her eyes wandered over the faces of the lawyers, the judges, and the jurymen, as if with a dumb appeal, but she did not speak. Then she turned towards the prisoner, and some words passed between them, which, in the gen- eral movement of curiosity, were only heard by the two or three persons who stood nearest. " Sandy ! " she was reported to have said, " I could n't help myself; take the curse off o' me ! " . " Deb., it 's too late," he answered. " It 's begun to work, and it 11 work itself out ! " Gilbert noticed the feeling of hostility with which Deb. Smith was regarded by the spectators, a feeling that threatened to manifest itself in some violent way, when the restraints of the place should be removed. He therefore took advantage of the great interest with which his own testimony was heard, to present her character in the light which her services to him shed upon it This was a new phase of the story, and produced a general movement of surprise. Sandy Flash, it was noticed, sitting with his fet- tered hands upon the rail before him, leaned forward and listened intently, while an 'inusual flush deepened upon his cheeks. The statements, though not strictly in evidence, were permitted by the Court, and they produced the effect which 310 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Gilbert intended. The excitement reached its height when Deb. Smith, ignorant of rule, suddenly rose and cried out, " It 's true as Gospel, every word of it ! Sandy, do you hear?" She was removed by the constable, but the people, as they made way, uttered no word of threat or insult On the contrary, many eyes rested on her hard, violent, wretched face with an expression of very genuine compas- sion. The trial took its course, and terminated with the result which everybody even the prisoner himself knew to be inevitable. He was pronounced guilty, and duly sen- tenced to be hanged by the neck until he was dead. Gilbert employed the time which he could spare from his attendance at the Court, in endeavoring to make a new loan, but with no positive success. The most he accom- plished was an agreement, on the part of his creditor, that the foreclosure might be delayed two or three weeks, provided there was a good prospect of the money being obtained. In ordinary times he would have had no diffi- culty ; but, as Mr. Trainer had written, the speculation in western lands had seized upon capitalists, and the amount of money for permanent investment was already greatly diminished. Ke was preparing to return home, when Chaffey, the constable, came to him with a message from Sandy Flash. The latter begged for an interview, and both Judge and Sheriff were anxious that Gilbert should comply with his wishes, in the hope that a full and complete confession might be obtained. It was evident that the highwayman had accomplices, but he steadfastly refused to name them, even with the prospect of having his sentence commuted to imprisonment for life. Gilbert did not hesitate a moment. There were doubt* of his own to be solved, questions to be asked, which THE STORY OF KENNETT. 811 Saitdy Flash could alone answer. He followed the con- stable to the gloomy, high-walled jail-building, and waa promptly admitted by the Sheriff into the low, dark, heavily barred cell, wherein the prisoner sat upon a wooden stool, the links of his leg-fetters passed through a ring in the floor. Sandy Flash lifted his face to the light, and grinned, but not with his old, mocking expression. He stretched out his hand which Gilbert took, hard and cold as the rat- tling chain at his wrist Then, seating himself with a clash upon the floor, he pushed the stool towards his vis- itor, and said, " Set down, Potter. Limited accommodations, you see. Sheriff, you need n't wait ; it 's private business." The Sheriff locked the iron door behind him, and they were alone. " Potter," the highwayman began, " you see I 'm trapped and done for, and all, it seems, on account o' that little affair o' your'n. You won't think it means much, now, when I say I was in the wrong there ; but I swear I was ! I had no particular spite ag*in Barton, but he 's a swell, and I like to take such fellows down ; and I was dead sure you were carryin' his money, as you promised to." " Tell me one thing," Gilbert interrupted ; " how did you know I promised to take money for him ? " " I knowed it, that 's enough ; I can give you, word for word, what both o' you said, if you doubt me." "Then, as I thought, it was Barton himself!" Gilbert cried. Sandy Flash burst into a roaring laugh, "ffim ! Ah- ha ! you think we go snacks, eh ? Do I look like a fool ? Barton 'd give his eye-teeth to put the halter round my peek with his own hands ! No, no, young man ; I have ways and ways o' learnin* things that you nor him 11 neyei guess." His manner, even more than bis words, convinced GO 812 THE STORY Of &ENNETT. bert Barton was absolved, but the mystery remained " You won't deny that you have friends ? " he said. " Maybe," Sandy replied, in a short, rough tone. " That 's nothin' to you," he continued ; " but what I 've got to say is, whether or no you 're a friend to Deb., she thinks you are. Do you mean to look after her, once't in a while, or are you one o' them that forgits a good turn ? " " I have told her," said Gilbert, " that she shall always h ive a home and a shelter in my house. If it 's any satis- faction to you, here 's my hand on it ! " " I believe you, Potter. Deb. 's done ill by me ; she should n't ha' bullied me when I was sore and tetchy, and fagged out with your curst huntin' of me up and down ! But I '11 do that much for her and for you. Here ; bend your head down ; I 've got to whisper." Gilbert leaned his ear to the highwayman's mouth. " You '11 only tell her, you understand ? " Gilbert assented. " Say to her these words, don't forgit a single one of 'em ! Thirty steps from the place she knowed about, be- hind the two big chestnut-trees, goin' towards the first cedar, and a forked sassyfrack growin' right over it. What she finds, is your'n." " Sandy ! " Gilbert exclaimed, starting from his listening posture. " Hush, I say ! You know what I mean her to do, give you your money back. I took a curse with it, as you said. Maybe that 's off o' me, now ! " " It is ! " said Gilbert, in a low tone, " and forgiveness mine and my mother's in the place of it. Have you any " ^ he hesitated to say the words " any last mes- sages, to her or anybody else, or anything you would like to have done ? " " Thank ye, no ! unless Deb. can find my black hair and whiskers. Then you may give 'em to B"rton, with nay dutiful service." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 818 He laughed at the idea, until his chains rattled. Gilbert's mind was haunted with the other and darker doubt, and he resolved, in this last interview, to secure himself against its recurrence. In such an hour he could trust the prisoner's words. " Sandy." he asked, " have you any children ? " " Not to my knowledge ; and I 'm glad of it." " You must know," Gilbert continued, " what the people say about my birth. My mother is bound from telling me who my father was, and I dare not ask her any ques- tions. Did you ever happen to know her, in your younger days, or can you remember anything that "will help me to discover his name ? " The highwayman sat silent, meditating, and Gilbert felt that his heart was beginning to beat painfully fast, as he waited for the answer. " Yes," said Sandy, at last, " I did know Mary Potter when I was a boy, and she knowed me, under another name. I may say I liked her, too, in a boy's way, but she was older by three or four years, and never thought o' lookin' at me. But I can't remember anything more ; if I was out o' this, I 'd soon find out for you ! " He looked up with an eager, questioning glance, which Gilbert totally misunderstood. " What was your other name ? " he asked, in a barely audible voice. " I dunno as I need tell it," Sandy answered ; " what 'd be the good ? There 's some yet livin', o' the same name, and they would n't thank me." " Sandy ! " Gilbert cried desperately, " answer this one question, don't go out of the world with a false word in your mouth ! You are not my father ? " The highwayman looked at him a moment, in blank amazement " No, so help me God ! " he then said. Gilbert's face brightened so suddenly and vividly that Sandy muttered to himself, " I never thovght I was that bad." 814 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " 1 hear the Sheriff at the outside gate," he whispered again. " Don't forgit thirty steps from the place she knowed about behind the two big chestnut-trees, goin' towards the first cedar and a forked sassyfrack growin' right over it ! Good-bye, and good-luck to the whole o' your life ! " The two clasped hands with a warmth and earnestness which surprised the Sheriff. Then Gilbert went out from his old antagonist That night Sandy Flash made an attempt to escape from the jail, and very nearly succeeded. It appeared, from some mysterious words which he afterwards let fall, and which Gilbert alone could have understood, that he had a superstitious belief that something he had done would bring him a new turn of fortune. The only result of the attempt was to hasten his execution. "Within ten days from that time he was transformed froir living terror into a romantic name. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 81ft CHAPTER XXVH. GILBERT INDEPENDENT. GILBERT POTTER felt such an implicit trust in Sandy Flash's promise of restitution, that, before leaving Chester, he announced the forthcoming payment of the mortgage to its holder. His homeward ride was like a triumphal march, to which his heart beat the music. The chill March winds turned into May-breezes as they touched him ; the brown meadows were quick with ambushed bloom. Within three or four months his life had touched such extremes of experience, that the fate yet to come seemed to evolve itself speedily and naturally from that which was over and gone. Only one obstacle yet remained in his path, his mother's secret. Towards that he was powerless ; to meet all others he was brimming with strength and courage. Mary Potter recognized, even more keenly and with profounder faith than her son, the guidance of some in- scrutable Power. She did not dare to express so uncer- tain a hope, but something in her heart whispered that the day of her own deliverance was not far off, and she took strength from it. It was nearly a week before Deb. Smith made her ap- pearance. Gilbert, in the mean time, had visited her cabin on the Woodrow farm, to find it deserted, and he was burn- ing with impatience to secure, through her, the restoration of his independence. He would not announce his changed piospects, even to Martha Deane, until they were put beyond further risk. The money once in his hands, he determined to carry it to Chester without loss of time. 516 THE STORY OF KENNETT When Deb. arrived, she had a weary, hunted look, but she was unusually grave and silent, and avoided further reference to the late tragical episode in her life. Never- theless, Gilbert led hei aside and narrated to her the par- ticulars of his interview with Sandy Flash. Perhaps he softened, with pardonable equivocation, the tatter's words in regard to her ; perhaps he conveyed a sense of for- giveness which had not been expressed; for Deb. more than once drew the corners of her hard palms across her eyes. When he gave the marks by which she was to rec- ognize a certain spot, she exclaimed, " It was hid the night I dreamt of him ! I knowed he must ha' been nigh, by that token. 0, Mr. Gilbert, he said true ! I know the place ; it 's not so far away ; this very night you '11 have y'r money back ! " After it was dark she set out, with a spade upon her shoulder, forbidding him to follow, or even to look after her. Both mother and son were too excited to sleep. They sat by the kitchen-fire, with one absorbing thought in their minds, and speech presently became easier thaiL silence. " Mother," said Gilbert, " when I mean if she brings the money, all that has happened will have been for good It has proved to us that we have true friends (and I count my Roger among them), and I think that our indepen- dence will be worth all the more, since we came so nigh losing it again." " Ay, my boy," she replied ; " I was over-hasty, and have been lessoned. When I bend my mind to submit, I make more headway than when I try to take the Lord's work into my own hands. I 'm fearsome still, but it seems there 's a light coming from somewhere, I don't know where." " Do you feel that way, mother ? " he exclaimed. " Do you think let me mention it this once ! that the day is near when you will be free to speak ? Will there be THE STORY OF KENNETT. 811 anything more you can tell me, when we stand free upon our own property ? " Mary Potter looked upon his bright, wistful, anxious face, and sighed. " I can't tell I can't tell," she said. " Ah, my boy, you would understand it, if I dared say one thing, but that might lead you to guess what must n't be told ; and I will be faithful to the spirit as well as the letter. It must come soon, but nothing you or I can do would hasten it a minute." " One word more, mother," he persisted, " will our in- dependence be no help to you ? " " A great help," she answered, " or, maybe, a great com- fort would be the true word. Without it, I might be tempted to but see, Gilbert, how can I talk ? Every- thing you say pulls at the one thing that cuts my mouth like a knife, because it 's shut tight on it ! And the more because I owe it to you, because I 'm held back from my duty to my child, maybe, every day putting a fresh sorrow into his heart ! Oh, it 's not easy, Gilbert ; it don't grow lighter from use, only my faith is the stronger and surer, and that helps me to bear it." " Mother, I meant never to have spoken of this again," he said. " But you 're mistaken ; it is no sorrow ; I never knew what it was to have a light heart, until you told me your trouble, and the question came to my mouth to-night because I shall soon feel strong in my own right as a man, and able to do more than you might guess. If, as you say, no man can help you, I will wait and be patient with you." " That 's all we can do now, my child. I was n't re- proaching you for speaking, for you 've held your peace a long while, when I know you 've been fretting ; but this is n't one of the troubles that 's lightened by speech, be- cause all talking must go around the outside, and never touch the thing itself * I understand," he said, and gazed for a long time into die fire, witb^-* speaking. 818 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Mary Potter watched his face, in the wavering light of the flame. She marked the growing decision of the feat- ures, the forward, fearless glance of the large, deep-set eye, the fuller firmness and sweetness of the mouth, and die general expression, not only of self-reliance, but of author ity, which was spread over the entire countenance. Both her pride in her son, and her respect for him, increased as she gazed. Heretofore, she had rather considered hei secret as her own property, her right to which he should not question ; but now it seemed as if she were forced to withhold something that of right belonged to him. Yet no thought that the mysterous obligation might be broker- ever entered her mind. Gilbert was thinking of Martha Deane. He had passed that first timidity of love which shrinks from the knowledge of others, and longed to tell his mother what noble fidelity and courage Martha had exhibited. Only the recollection of the fearful swoon into which she had fallen bound his tongue ; he felt that the first return to the subject must come from her. She lay back in her chair and seemed to sleep ; he rose from time to time, went out into the lane and listened, and so the hours passed away. Towards midnight a heavy step was heard, and Deb. Smith, hot, panting, her arms daubed with earth, and a wild light in her eyes, entered the kitchen. With one hand she grasped the ends of her strong tow-linen apron, with* the other she still shouldered the spade. She knelt upon the floor between the two, set the apron in the light of the fire, unrolled the end of a leathern saddle-bag, and disclosed the recovered treasure. " See if it 's all right ! " she said. Mary Potter and Gilbert bent over the rolls and counted them. It was the entire sum, untouched. u Have you got a sup o' whiskey, Mr. Gilbert ? " Deb. Smith asked. " Ugh ! I 'm hot and out o' breath, and yet I feel mortal cold. There was a screech-owl hootin' in thi THE STORY OF KENNETT. 819 cedar ; and I dunno how 't is, but there always seems to be things around, where money 's buried. You can't see 'em, but you hear 'em. I thought I 'd ha' dropped when 1 turned up the sassyfrack bush, and got hold on it ; and all the way back I feared a big arm 'd come out o' every fence- corner, and snatch it from me ! " l Mary Potter set the kettle on the fire, and Deb. Smith was soon refreshed with a glass of hot grog. Then she lighted her pipe and watched the two as they made prepa- rations for the journey to Chester on the morrow, now and then nodding her head with an expression which chased away the haggard sorrow from her features. This time the journey was performed without incident. The road was safe, the skies were propitious, and Gilbert Potter returned from Chester an independent man, with the redeemed mortgage in his pocket His first care was to assure his mother of the joyous fact ; his next to seek Martha Deane, and consult with her about their brighten- ing future. On the way to Kennett Square, he fell in with Mark, who was radiant with the promise of Richard Rudd's new house, secured to him by the shrewd assistance of Miss Betsy Lavender. "I tell you what it is, Gilbert," said he; "don't you think I might as well speak to Daddy Fairthorn about Sally ? I 'm gettin' into good business now, and I guess th' old folks might spare her pretty soon." " The sooner, Mark, the better for you ; and you can buy the wedding-suit at once, for I have your hundred dol- lars ready." "You don't mean that you wont use it, Gilbert?" Who so delighted as Mark, when he heard Gilbert's 1 It does not seem to have been generally known in the neighborhood that the money was unearthed. A tradition of that and other treasure buried by Sandy Flash, is still kept alive; and daring the past ten yean two midnight attempts have been made to find it, within a hundred jrardt f the spot indicated in the narrative. 82C THE STORY OF KENNETT. unexpected story ? " Oh, glory ! " he exclaimed ; " tbi tide 's turnin', old fellow ! What '11 you bet you 're no! married before I am ? It 's got all over the country that you and Martha are engaged, and that the Doctor 's full o' gall and wormwood about it ; I hear it wherever I go, and there 's more for you than there is against you, I tell you that!" The fact was as Mark had stated. No one was posi- tively known to have spread the rumor, but it was afloat and generally believed. The result was to invest Gilbert with a fresh interest. His courage in confronting Sand} Flash, his robbery, his wonderful preservation from death and his singular connection, through Deb. Smith, with Sandy Flash's capture, had thrown a romantic halo around his name, which was now softly brightened by the report of his love. The stain of his birth and the uncertainty of his parentage did not lessen this interest, but rather increased it ; and as any man who is much talked about in a country community will speedily find two parties created, one enthusiastically admiring, the other contemptuously depreciating him, so now it happened in this case. The admirers, however, were in a large majority, and they possessed a great advantage over the detractors, being supported by a multitude of facts, while the latter were unable to point to any act of Gilbert Potter's life that was not upright and honorable. Even his love of Martha Deane was shorn of its presumption by her reciprocal af- fection. The rumor that she had openly defied her father's will created great sympathy, for herself and for Gilbert, among the young people of both sexes, a sympathy which frequently was made manifest to Dr. Deane, and annoyed him not a little. His stubborn opposition to his daughter's attachment increased, in proportion as his power to prevent it diminished. We may therefore conceive his sensations when Gilbert Potter himself bold y entered his presence. The latter THE STOR5T OF KENNETT. 321 after Mark's description, very imperfect though it was, of Martha's courageous assertion of the rights of her heart, had swiftly made up his rnind to stand beside her in the struggle, with equal firmness and equal pride. He would openly seek an interview with her, and if he should find her father at home, as was probable at that hour, would frankly and respectfully acknowledge his love, and defend it against any attack. On entering the room, he quietly stepped forward with extended hand, and saluted the Doctor, who was so taken by surprise that he mechanically answered the greeting before he could reflect what manner to adopt towards the unwelcome visitor. " What might be thy business with me ? " he asked, stiffly, recovering from the first shock. " I called to see Martha," Gilbert answered. " I have some news which she will be glad to hear." " Young man," said the Doctor, with his sternest face and voice, " I may as well come to the point with thee, at once. If thee had had decency enough to apply to me be- fore speaking thy mind to Martha, it would have saved us all a great deal of trouble. I could have told thee then, as I tell thee now, that I will never consent to her marriage with thee. Thee must give up all thought of such a thing." " I will do so," Gilbert, replied, " when Martha tells me with her own mouth that such is her will. I am not one of the men who manage their hearts according to circum- stances. I wish, indeed, I were more worthy of Martha ; but I am trying to deserve her, and I know no better way than to be faithful as she is faithful. I mean no disrespect to you, Dr. Deane. You are her father ; you have every right to care for her happiness, and I will admit that you honestly think I am not the man who could make her happy. All I ask is, that you should wait a little and know me better. Martha and I have both decided that we must n 322 THE STORY OF KENNETT. wait, and there is time enough for you to watch my con- duct, examine my character, and perhaps come to a more favorable judgment of me." Dr. Deane saw that it would be harder to deal with Gilbert Potter than he had imagined. The young man stood before him so honestly and fearlessly, meeting his angry gaze with such calm, frank eyes, and braving his despotic will with such a modest, respectful opposal, that he was forced to withdraw from his haughty position, and to set forth the same reasons which he had presented to his daughter. " I see," he said, with a tone slightly less arrogant, u that thee is sensible, in some respects, and therefore I put the case to thy understanding. It 's too plain to be argued. Martha is a rich bait for a poor man, and perhaps I ought n't to wonder knowing the heart of man as I do that thee was tempted to turn her head to favor thee ; but the money is not yet hers, and I, as her father, can never allow that thy poverty shall stand for three years between her and some honorable man to whom her money would be no temptation ! Why, if all I hear be true, thee has n't even any certain roof to shelter a wife ; thy property, such as it is, may be taken out of thy hands ! " Gilbert could not calmly hear these insinuations. All his independent pride of character was aroused ; a dark flush came into his face, the blood was pulsing hotly through his veins, and indignant speech was rising to his lips, when the inner door unexpectedly opened, and Martha entered the room. She instantly guessed what was taking place, and sum- moned up all her self-possession, to stand by Gilbert, with- out increasing her father's exasperation. To the former, her apparition. was like oil on troubled waters. His quick blood struck into warm channels of joy, as he met hei glowing eyes, and felt the throb of her soft, elastic pain: THE STORY OF KENNEIT. 823 igainst his (/wn. Dr. Deane set his teeth, drew up las under lip, and handled his cane with restless fingers. " Father," said Martha, " if you are talking of me, it is better that I should be present. I am sure there is noth- ing that either thse or Gilbert would wish to conceal from me." " No, Martha ! " Gilbert exclaimed ; " I came to bring you good news. The mortgage on my farm is lifted, and I am an independent man ! " " "Without my help ! Does thee hear that, father ? " Gilbert did not understand her remark ; without heed- ing it, he continued, " Sandy Flash, after his sentence, sent for me and told me where the money he took from me was to be found. I carried it to Chester, and have paid off all my remaining debt Martha, your father has just charged me with being tempted by your property. I say to you, in his presence, put it beyond my reach, give it away, forfeit the condi- tions of the legacy, let me show truly whether I ever thought of money in seeking you ! " " Gilbert," she said, gently, " father does n't yet know you as I do. Others will no doubt say the same thing, and we must both make up our minds to have it said ; yet I cannot, for that, relinquish what is mine of right We are not called upon to sacrifice to the mistaken opinions of men ; your life and mine will show, and manifest to others in time, whether it is a selfish tie that binds us together." " Martha ! " Dr. Deane exclaimed, feeling that he should lose ground, unless this turn of the conversation were in- terrupted ; " thee compels me to show thee how impossible the thing is, even if this man were of the richest. Admit- ting that he is able to support a family, admitting that thee waits three years, comes into thy property, and is still of a mind to marry him against my will, can thee forget 01 has he so little consideration for thee as to forget thai he bears his mother's name ? " $24 THl STORY OF KENNETT. "Father! ' u Let me speak, Martha," said Gilbert, lifting his head, ifhich had drooped for a moment His voice was earnest and sorrowful, yet firm. " It is true that I bear my mother's name. It is the name of a good, an honest, an honorable, and a God-fearing woman. I wish I could be certain that the name which legally belongs to me will be as honorable and as welcome. But Martha knows, and you, her father, have a right to know, that I shall have another. I have not been inconsiderate. I trampled down my love for her, as long as I believed it would bring disgrace. I will not say that now, knowing her as I do, I could ever give her up, even if the disgrace was not removed," " Thank you, Gilbert ! " Martha interrupted. " But there is none, Dr. Deane," he continued, " and when the time comes, my birth will be shown to be as hon- orable as your own, or Mark's." Dr. Deane was strangely excited at these words. His face colored, and he darted a piercing, suspicious glance at Gilbert. The latter, however, stood quietly before him, too possessed by what he had said to notice the Doctor's peculiar expression ; but it returned to his memory after- wards. " Why," the Doctor at last stammered, " I never heard of this before ! " " No," Gilbert answered, " and I must ask of you not to mention it further, at present. I must beg you to be patient until my mother is able to declare the truth." " What keeps her from it ? " " I don't know," Gilbert sadly replied. " Come ! " cried the Doctor, as sternly as ever, " this it rather a likely story ! If Potter is n't thy name, what is ? " " I don't know," Gilbert repeated. " No ; nor no one else ! How dare thee address my iaughter, talk of marriage with her, when thee don't THE STORY OF KEFNETT. 825 know thy real name? What name would thee offer to her in exchange for her own ? Young man, I don't believe thee ! " "I do," said Martha, rising and moving to Gilbert's side. " Martha, go to thy room ! " the Doctor cried. a And as for thee, Gilbert Potter, or Gilbert Anything, I tell thee, once and for all, never speak of this thing again, at least, until thee can show a legal name and an honorable birth ! O Thee has not prejudiced me in thy favor by thy devices, and it stands to reason that I should forbid thee to see my daughter, to enter my doors ! " " Dr. Deane," said Gilbert, with sad yet inflexible dig- nity, " it is impossible, after what you have said, that I should seek to enter your door, until my words are proved true, and I am justified in your eyes. The day may come sooner than you think. But I will do nothing secretly ; I won't promise anything to you that I can't promise to my- self; and so I tell you, honestly and above-board, that while I shall not ask Martha to share my life until I can offer her my true name, I must see her from time to time. I 'm not fairly called upon to give up that." " No, Gilbert," said Martha, who had not yet moved from her place by his side, " it is as necessary to my happiness as to yours. I will not ask you to come here again ; you cannot, and must not, even for my sake ; but when I need your counsel and your sympathy, and there is no other way left, I will go to you." u Martha ! " Dr. Deane exclaimed ; but the word con- veys no idea of his wrath and amazement. " Father," she said, " this is thy house, and it is for thee to direct, here. Within its walls, I will conduct myself according to thy wishes ; I will receive no guest whom thee forbids, and will even respect thy views in regard to my intercourse with our friends ; but unless thee wants to deprive me of all liberty, and set aside every right of mine 326 THE STORY OF KENNETT. as an accountable being, thee must allow me sometimes to do what both my heart and my conscience command ! " M Is it a woman's place," he angrily asked, " to visit a man ? " " When the two have need of each other, and God haa joined their hearts in love and in truth, and the man is held back from reaching the woman, then it is her place to go to him ! " Never before had Dr. Deane beheld upon his daughter's sweet, gentle face such an expression of lofty spiritual au- thority. While her determination really outraged his con- ventional nature, he felt that it came from a higher source than his prohibition. He knew that nothing which he could urge at that moment would have the slightest weight in her mind, and moreover, that the liberal, independent customs of the neighborhood, as well as the respect of his sect for professed spiritual guidance, withheld him from any harsh attempt at coercion. He was powerless, but still inflexible. As for Martha, what she had said was simply included in what she was resolved to do ; the greater embraced the less. It was a defiance of her father's authority, very pain- ful from the necessity of its assertion, but rendered inev- itable by his course. She knew with what tenacity he would seize and hold every inch of relinquished ground ; she felt, as keenly as Gilbert himself, the implied insult which he could not resent ; and her pride, her sense of justice, and the strong fidelity of her woman's heart, alike impelled her to stand firm. " Good-bye, Martha ! " Gilbert said, taking her hand 1 1 must wait." ' We wait together, Gilbert I " THE 810RY OF KENNETT. fttf CHAPTER XXVm. MI88 LAVENDER MAKES A GUESS. THERE were signs of spring all over the land, and Gil- bert resumed his farm- work with the fresh zest which the sense of complete ownership gave. He found a purchaser for his wagon, sold one span of horses, and thus had money in hand for all the coming expenses of the year. His days of hauling, of anxiety, of painful economy, were over ; he rejoiced in his fully developed and recognized manhood, and was cheered by the respect and kindly sym- pathy of his neighbors. Meanwhile, the gossip, not only of Kennett, but of Marl- borough, Pennsbury, and New-Garden, was as busy as ever. No subject of country lalk equalled in interest the loves of Gilbert Potter and Martha Deane. Mark, too open- hearted to be ! atrusted with any secret, was drawn upon wherever he went, and he revealed more (although he was by no means Martha's confidant) than the public had any right to know. The idlers at the Unicorn had seen Gilbert enter Dr. Deane's house, watched his return there- from, made shrewd notes of the Doctor's manner when he came forth that evening, and guessed the result of the :'u- terview almost as well as if they had been present The restoration of Gilbert's plundered money, and his hardly acquired independence as a landholder, greatly strengthened the hands of his friends. There is no logic so convincing as that of good luck ; in proportion as a tnan is fortunate (so seems to run the law of the world), he attracts fortune to him. A good deed would not have 8*8 THE STORY OF KENNETT. helped Gilbert so much, in popular estimation, as this sud den and unexpected release' from his threatened difficul ties. The blot upon his name was already growing fainter, and a careful moral arithmetician might have calculated the point of prosperity at which it would cease to be seen. Nowhere was the subject discussed with greater interest and excitement than in the Fairthorn household. Sally, when she first heard the news, loudly protested her un- belief; why, the two would scarcely speak to each other, she said ; she had seen Gilbert turn his back on Martha, as if he could n't bear the sight of her ; it ought to be, and she would be glad if it was, but it was n't ! When, therefore, Mark confirmed the report, and was led on, by degrees, to repeat Gilbert's own words, Sally rushed out into the kitchen with a vehemence which left half her apron hanging on the door-handle, torn off from top to bottom in her whirling flight, and announced the fact to her mother. Joe, who was present, immediately cried out, " O, Sally ! now I may tell about Mark, may n't I ? " Sally seized him by the collar, and pitched him out the kitchen-door. Her face was the color of fire. " My gracious, Sally ! " exclaimed Mother Fairthorn, in amazement ; " what 's that for ? " But Sally had already disappeared, and was relating her trouble to Mark, who roared with wicked laughter, where- upon she nearly cried with vexation. " Never mind," said he ; " the boy 's right I told Gil- beit this very afternoon that it was about time to speak to the old man ; and he allowed it was. Come out with me and don't be afeard I '11 do the talkin'." Hand in hand they went into the kitchen, Sally blushing and hanging back a little. Farmer Fairthorn had just come in from the barn, and was warming his hands at the v O fire. Mother Fairthorn might have had her suspicions, was her nature to wait cheerfully, and say nothing. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 329 u See here, Daddy and Mammy ! " said Mark, " have either o' you any objections to Sally and me bein' a pair ? " Fanner Fairthorn smiled, rubbed his hands together and turning to his wife, asked, " What has Mammy to say to it ? " She looked up at Mark with her kindly eyes, in which twinkled something like a tear, and said, " I was guessin it might turn out so between you two, and if I 'd had any- thing against you, Mark, I would n't ha' let it run on. Be a steady boy, and you '11 make Sally a steady woman. She 's had pretty much her own way." Thereupon Fanner Fairthorn, still rubbing his hands, ventured to remark, " The girl might ha' done worse." This was equivalent to a hearty commendation of the match, and Mark so understood it Sally kissed her mother, cried a little, caught her gown on a corner of the kitchen- table, and thus the betrothal was accepted as a family fact Joe and Jake somewhat disturbed the bliss of the evening, it is true, by bursting into the room from time to time, staring significantly at the lovers, and then rushing out again with loud whoops and laughter. Sally could scarcely await the coming of the next day, to visit Martha Deane. At first she felt a little piqued that she had not received the news from Martha's own lips, but this feeling speedily vanished in the sympathy with her friend's trials. She was therefore all the more astonished at the quiet, composed bearing of the latter. The tears she had expected to shed were not once drawn upon. " O, Martha ! " she cried, after the first impetuous out- burst of feeling, "to think that it has all turned out just as I wanted ! No, I don't quite mean that ; you know I could n't wish you to have crosses ; but about Gilbert And it 's too bad Mark has told me dreadful things, but I hope they 're not all true ; you don't look like it and I 'm so glad, you can't think 1 " ftSO THE STORY OF KENNETT. Martha smiled, readily ui tangling Sally's thoughts, and said, "I must n't complain, Sally. Nothing has come to pass that I had not prepared my mind to meet. We irill only have to wait a little longer than you and Mark." " No you won't ! " Sally exclaimed. " I '11 make Mark trait, too I And everything must be set right some- body must do something ! Where 's Betsy Lavender ? " " Here ! " answered the veritable voice of the spinster, through the open door of the small adjoining room. " Gracious, how you frightened me ! " cried Sally. " But, Betsy, you seem to be able to help everybody ; why can't you do something for Martha and Gilbert ? " " Martha and Gilbert. That 's what I ask myself, nigh onto a hundred times a day, child. But there 's things that takes the finest kind o' wit to see through, and you can't make a bead-purse out of a sow's-ear, neither jerk Time by the forelock, when there a'n't a hair, as you can see, to hang on to. I dunno as you '11 rightly take my meanin'; but never mind, all the same, I 'm flummuxed, and it 's the longest and hardest flummux o' my life ! " Miss Betsy Lavender, it must here be explained, was more profoundly worried than she was willing to admit. Towards Martha she concealed the real trouble of her mind under the garb of her quaint, jocular speech, which meant much or little, as one might take it. She had just returned from one of her social pilgrimages, during which she had heard nothing but the absorbing subject of gossip. She had been questioned and cross-questioned, entreated by many, as Sally had done, to do something (for all had great faith in her powers), and warned by a few not to meddle with what did not concern her. Thus she had come back that morning, annoyed, discomposed, and more dissatisfied with herself than ever before, to hear Martha's recital of what had taken place during her absence. In spite of Martha's steady patience and cheerfulness, Bliss Lavender knew that the painful Delation in which she T11E STOKY OF KENNETT. SSI stood to her father would not be assuaged by the lapse of time. She understood Dr. Deane's nature quite as well as his daughter, and was convinced that, for the present, neither threats nor persuasions would move his stubborn resistance. According to the judgment of the world (the older part of it, at least), he had still right on his side. Facts were wanted ; or, rather, the one fact upon which resistance was based must be removed. With all this trouble, Miss Lavender had a presentiment that there was work for her to do, if she could only dis- cover what it was. Her faith in her own powers of assist- ance was somewhat shaken, and she therefore resolved to say nothing, promise nothing, until she had both hit upon a plan and carried it into execution. Two or three days after Sally's visit, on a mild, sunny morning in the beginning of April, she suddenly announced her intention of visiting the Potter farm-house. " I ha' n't seen Mary since last fall, you know, Martha," she said ; " and I 've a mortal longin' to wish Gilbert joy o' his good luck, and maybe say a word to keep him in good heart about you. Have you got no message to send by me ? " " Only my love," Martha answered ; " and tell him how you left me. He knows I will keep my word ; when I need his counsel, I will go to him." " If more girls talked and thought that way, us women 'd have fairer shakes," Miss Lavender remarked, as she put on her cloak and pattens. When she reached the top of the hill overlooking the glen, she noticed fresh furrows in the field on her left. Clambering through the fence, she waited until the heads of a pair of horses made their appearance, rising over the verge of the hill. As she conjectured, Gilbert Potter was behind them, guiding the plough-handle. He was heartily glad to see her, and halted his team at the corner of the "land." 882 THE STORY OF KENNETT. " I did n't know as you 'd speak to me," said she, with assumed grimness. "Maybe you would n't, if I did nt come direct from Tier. Ah, you need n't look wild ; it 'a only her love, and what 's the use, for you had it already ; but never mind, lovyers is never satisfied ; and she 's chip- per and peart enough, seein' what she has to bear for your sake, but she don't mind that, on the contrary, quite the reverse, and I 'm sure you don't deserve it ! " " Did she tell you what passed between us, the last time ? " Gilbert asked. " The last time. Yes. And jokin' aside, which often means the contrary in my crooked ways o' talkin', a'n't it about time somethin' was done ? " " What can be done ? " " I dunno," said Miss Lavender, gravely. " You know as well as I do what 's in the way, or rather none of us knows what it is, only wkqre it is ; and a thing unbeknown may be big or little ; who can tell ? And latterly I 've thought, Gilbert, that maybe your mother is in the fix of a man I 've heerd tell on, that fell into a pit, and ketched by the last bush, and hung on, and hung on, till he could hold on no longer ; so he gev himself up to death, shet his eyes and let go, and lo and behold ! the bottom was a matter o' six inches under his feet ! Leastways, everything p'ints to a sort o' skeary fancy bein' mixed up with it, not a thing to laugh at, I can tell you, but as earnest as sin, for I 've seen the likes, and maybe easy to make straight if you could only look into it yourself; but you think there 's no chance o'that?" " No," said Gilbert " I 've tried once too often, already ; I shall not try again." " Try again," Miss Lavender repeated. " Then why not?" but here she paused, and seemed to meditate. The fact was, she had been tempted to ask Gilbert's advice in regard to the plan she was revolving in her brain The tone of his voice, however, was discouraging ; she saw THE STOKY OF KENNET1. 358 that he had taken a firm and gloomy resolution to be silent, his uneasy air hinted that he desired to avoid further talk on this point. So, with a mental reprimand of the indiscretion into which her sympathy with him had nearly betrayed her, she shut her teeth and slightly bit her tongue. " Well, well," she said ; " I hope it '11 come out before you 're both old and sour with waitin', that 's all ! I don't want such true-love as your'n to be like firkin-butter at th' end ; for as fresh, and firm, and well-kep' as you please, it ha'n't got the taste o' the clover and the sweet-grass ; but who knows ? I may dance at your weddin', after all, soon- er 'n I mistrust ; and so I 'm goin' down to spend the day with y'r mother ! " She strode over the furrow and across the weedy sod, and Gilbert resumed his ploughing. As she approached the house, Miss Lavender noticed that the secured owner- ship of the property was beginning to express itself in various slight improvements and adornments. The space in front of the porch was enlarged, and new flower-borders set along the garden-paling ; the barn had received a fresh coat of whitewash, as well as the trunks of the apple-trees, which shone like white pillars ; and there was a bench with bright straw bee-hives under the lilac -bush. Mary Potter was at work in the garden, sowing her early seeds. " Well, I do declare ! " exclaimed Miss Lavender, after the first cordial greetings were over. " Seems almost like a different place, things is so snugged up and put to rights." "Yes," said Mary Potter; "I had hardly the heart, before, to make it everything that we wanted ; ar d you ean't think what a satisfaction I have in it now." a Yes, I can ! Give me the redishes, while you stick in them beets. I 've got a good forefinger for plantin' em, long and stiff; and I can't stand by and see you workin alone, without fidgets." 334 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Miss Lavender threw off her cloak and worked with a will. When the gardening was finished, she continued hei assistance in the house, and fully earned her dinner before she sat down to it. Then she insisted on Mary Potter brii ging out her sewing, and giving her something more to do ; it was one of her working-days, she said ; she had spent rather an idle winter ; and moreover, she was in such spirits at Gilbert's good fortune, that she could n't be satis- fied without doing something for him, and to sew up the seams of his new breeches was the very thing ! Never had she been so kind, so cheerful, and so helpful, and Mary Potter's nature warmed into happy content in her society. No one should rashly accuse Miss Lavender if there was a little design in this. The task she had set herself to at- tempt was both difficult and delicate. She had divided it into two portions, requiring very different tactics, and was shrewd enough to mask, in every possible way, the one from which she had most hopes of obtaining a result. She made no reference, at first, to Gilbert's attachment to Mar- tha Deane, but seemed to be wholly absorbed in the subject of the farm ; then, taking wide sweeps through all varieties of random gossip, preserving a careless, thoughtless, rat- tling manner, she stealthily laid her pitfalls for the unsus- pecting prey. " I was over 't Warren's f other day," she said, biting off a thread, " and Becky had jist come home from Phildel- phy. There 's new-fashioned bonnets comin' up, she says. She stayed with Allen's, but who they are I don't know. Laws ! now I think on it, Mary, you stayed at Allen's, too, when you were there ! " " No," said Mary Potter, " it was at Treadwell's." Treadwell's ? I thought you told me Allen's. All the same to me, Allen or Treadwell ; I don't know either of 'em. It 's a long while since I 've been in Phildelphy, and never likely to go ag'in. I don't fancy trampin' over them THE STORY OF KENNETT. hard bricks, though, to be sure, a body sees the fashions but what with boxes tumbled in and out o' the stores, and bar'ls rollin', and carts always goin' by, you 're never sure o' y'r neck ; and I was sewin' for Clarissa Lee, Jackson that was, that married a dry goods man, the noisiest place that ever was ; you could hardly hear yourself talk ; but a body gets used to it, in Second Street, close't to Market, and were you anywheres near there ? " " I was in Fourth Street," Mary Potter answered, with a little hesitation. Miss Lavender secretly noticed her unea- siness, which, she also remarked, arose not from suspicion, but from memory. " What kind o' buttons are you goin' to have, Mary ? " she asked. " Horn splits, and brass cuts the stuff; and mother o' pearl wears to eternity, but they 're so awful dear. Fourth Street, you said ? One street 's like anotner to me, after you get past the corners. I 'd always know Second, though, by the tobacco-shop, with the wild Injun at the door, liftin' his tommyhawk to skulp you ugh ! but never mind, all the same, skulp away for what I care, for I a'n't likely ever to lay eyes on you ag'in ! " Having thus, with perhaps more volubility than was re- quired, covered up the traces of her design, Miss Lavender cast about how to commence the second and more hopeless attack. It was but scant intelligence which she had gained, but in that direction she dared not venture further. What she now proposed to do required more courage and less cunning. Her manner gradually changed ; she allowed lapses of silence to occur, and restricted her gossip to a much nar- rower sweep. She dwelt, finally, upon the singular circum- stances of Sandy Flash's robbery of Gilbert, and the res- toration of the money. " Talkin' o' Deb. Smith," she then said, " Mary, do you mind when I was here last harvest, and the talk we had about Gilbert ? I 've often thought on it since, and how I 886 THE STORY OF KENNETT. guessed right for once't, for I know the ways o' men, if I am an old maid, and so it 's come out as I said, and a finer couple than they '11 make can't be found in the county ! " Mary Potter looked up, with a shadow of the old trouble on her face. " You know all about it, Betsy, then ? " she asked. " Bless your soul, Mary, everybody knows about it ! There 's been nothin' else talked about in the neighbor- hood for the last three weeks ; why, ha' n't Gilbert told you o' what passed between him and Dr. Deane, and how Martha stood by him as no woman ever stood by a man ? " An expression of painful curiosity, such as shrinks from the knowledge it craves, came into Mary Potter's eyes. " Gilbert has told me nothing," she said, " since* since that time." " That time. I won't ask you what time ; it 's neither here nor there ; but you ought to know the run o' things, when it 's common talk." And therewith Miss Lavender began at the beginning, and never ceased until she had brought the history, in all its particulars, down to that very day. She did not fail to enlarge on the lively and univer- sal interest in the fortunes of the lovers which was mani- fested by the whole community. Mary Potter's face grew paler and paler as she spoke, but the tears which some parts of the recital called forth were quenched again, as it seemed, by flashes of aroused pride. "Now," Miss. Lavender concluded, " you see just how the matter stands. I 'm not hard on you, savin' and exceptin' that facts is hard, which they sometimes are I don't deny ; but here we 're all alone with our two selves, and you '11 grant I 'm a friend, though I may have queer ways o' showin' it ; and why should n't I say that all the trouble comes o' Gilbert bearin' your name ? " " Don't I know it ! " Mary Potter cried. " Is n't my load heaped up heavier as it comes towards the end' THE STORY OF KENNETT. 837 What can I do but wait till the day when I can give G?1 bert his father's name ? " " His father's name ! Then you can do it, some day ? 1 suspicioned as much. And you 've been bound up from doin' it, all this while, and that 's what 's been layin' so heavy on your mind, was n't it ? " " Betsy," said Mary Potter, with sudden energy, u 1 11 say as much as I dare, so that I may keep my senses. I fear, sometimes, I '11 break together for want of a friend like you, to steady me while I walk the last steps of my hard road. Gilbert was born in wedlock ; I 'm not bound to deny that ; but I committed a sin, not the sin people charge me with, and the one that pex*uaded me to it has to answer for more than I have. I bound myself not to tell the name of Gilbert's father, not to say where or when I was married, not to do or say anything to put others on the track, until but there 's the sin and the trouble and the punishment all in one. If I told that, you might guess the rest. You know what a name I 've had to bear, but I 've taken my cross and fought my way, and put up with all things, that I might deserve the fullest justification the Lord has in His hands. If I had known all beforehand, Betsy, but I expected the release in a month or two, and it has n't come in twenty-five years ! " " Twenty-five years ! " repeated Miss Lavender, heedless of the drops running down her thin face. " If there was a sin, Mary, even as big as a yearlin' calf, you 've worked off the cost of it, years ago ! If you break your word now, you '11 stand justified in the sight o' the Lord, and of all men, and even if you think a scrimption of it 's left, re- member your dooty to Gilbert, and take a less justification for his sake ! " - 1 've been tempted that way, Betsy, but the end I wanted has been set in my mind so long I can't get it out. I 've seen the Lord s hand so manifest in these past days, that I 'm fearsome to hurry His judgments. And then, MS THE STORY OF KENNETT. though I try not to, T 'in waiting from day to day, almost from hour to hour, and it seems that if I was to give up and break my vow, He would break it for me the next minute afterwards, to punish my impatience ! " "Why," Miss Lavender exclaimed, "it must be youf husband's death you 're waitin' for ! " Mary Potter started up with a wild look of alarm. " No no not his death ! " she cried. " I should want him to be living ! Ask me no more questions ; forget what I 've said, if it don't incline you to encourage me ! That 's why I 've told you so much ! " Miss Lavender instantly desisted from further appeal. She rose, put her arm around Mary Potter's waist, and said, "I did n't mean to frighten or to worry you, deary. I may think your conscience has worked on itself, like, till it 's ground a bit too sharp ; but I see just how you 're fixed, and won't say another word, without it 's to give comfort. An open confession 's good for the soul, they say, and half a loaf 's better than no bread, and you have n't violated your word a bit, and so let it do you good ! " In fact, when Mary Potter grew calm, she was conscious of a relief the more welcome because it was so rare in her experience. Miss Lavender, moreover, hastened to place Gilbert's position in a more cheerful light, and the same story, repeated for a different purpose, now assumed quite another aspect. She succeeded so well, that she left be- hind her only gratitude for the visit. Late in the afternoon she came forth from the farm- house, and commenced slowly ascending the hill. She stopped frequently and looked about her ; her narrow forehead was wrinkled, and the base of her long nose was set between two deep furrows. Her lips were twisted in a pucker of great perplexity, and her eyes were nearly closed in a desperate endeavor to solve some haunting, puzzling question. " It 's queer," she muttered ta herself when she had THE STORY OF KENNETT. 83S nearly reached the top of the hill, " it 's mortal queer ! Like a whip-poor-will on a moonlight night: you hear it whistlin' on the next fence-rail, it does n't seem a yard off, you step up to ketch it, and there 's nothin' there ; then you step back ag'in, and ' whip - poor - will ! whip - poor- will ! ' whistles louder 'n ever, and so on, the whole night, and some folks says they can throw their voices outside o' their bodies, but that 's neither here nor there. " Now why can't I ketch hold o' this thing ? It is n't 8 yard off me, I '11 be snaked ! And I dunno what ever she said that makes me think so, but I feel it in my bones, and no use o' callin' up words ; it 's one o' them things that comes without callin', when they come at all, and I 'm so near guessin' I '11 have no peace day or night." With many similar observations she resumed her walk, and presently reached the border of the ploughed land. Gilbert's back was towards her ; he was on the descend- ing furrow. She looked at him, started, suddenly lost her breath, and stood with open mouth and wide, fixed eyes. " HA-HA-A ! HA-HA-A-A ! " Loud and shrill her cry rang across the valley. It was like the yell of a war-horse, scenting the battle afar off. All the force of her lungs and muscles expended itself in the sound. The next instant she dropped upon the moist, ploughed earth, and sat there, regardless of gown and petticoat. " Good Lord ! " she repeated to herself, over and over again. Then, seeing Gilbert approaching, startled by the cry, she slowly arose to her feet " A good guess," she said to herself, " and what 's more, there 's ways o' provin' it. He 's comin', and he must n't know ; you 're a fool, Betsy Lavender, not to keep your wits better about you, and go rousin' up the whole neigh- borhood ; good look that your face is crooked and don't how much o' what 's goin' on inside ! " 840 THE STORf OF KENNETT. What 's the matter, Betsy ? " asked Gilbert " Nothin* one o' my crazy notions," she said. " 1 used to holler like a kildeer when I was a girl and got out on the Brandywine hills alone, and I s'pose I must ha thought about it, and the yell sort o' come of itself, for it just jerked me off o' my feet ; but you need n't tell any body that I cut such capers in my old days, not that folks 'd 'nuch wonder, but the contrary, for they 're used to me." Gilbert laughed heartily, but he hardly seemed satisfied with the explanation. "You 're all of a tremble/' he said. " Am I ? Well, it 's likely, and my gownd all over mud ; but there 's one favor I want to ask o' you, and no common one, neither, namely, the loan of a horse for a week or so." " A horse ? " Gilbert repeated. " A horse. Not Roger, by no means ; I could n't ask that, and he don't know me, anyhow ; but the least rough- pacin' o' them two, for I 've got considerable ridin' over the country to do, and I would n't ask you, but it 's a busy time o' year, and all folks is n't so friendly." "You shall have whatever you want, Betsy," he said. u But you 've heard nothing ? " " Nothin' o' one sort or t'other. Make yourself easy, lad." Gilbert, however, had been haunted by new surmises in regard to Dr. Deane. Certain trifles had returned to his memory since the interview, and rathei than be longer an- noyed with them, he now opened his heart to Miss Lavender. A curious expression came over her face. " You 've got sharp eyes and ears Gilbert," she said. " Now supposin I wanted your horse o' purpose to clear up your doubts ir a way to satisfy you, would you mind lettin' me have it ? " " Take even Roger ! " he exclaimed. No, that bay '11 do. Keep thinkin' thai ' what I 'at after, and ask me no more questions " THE StORY OF KENNETf. 141 She crossed the ploughed land, crept through the fence, and trudged up the road. When a clump of bushes on the bank had hid Gilbert from her sight, she stopped, took breath, and chuckled with luxurious satisfaction. " Betsy Lavender," she said, with marked approval, " you 're a cuter old thing than I took you to be ! " THE STORY OF KENNRFT CHAPTER XXHL MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENTS. THE next morning Sam took Gilbert's bay horse to Ke nett Square, and hitched him in front of Dr. Deane's door. Miss Lavender, who was on the look-out, summoned the boy into the house, to bring her own side-saddle down from the garret, and then proceeded to pack a small valise, with straps corresponding to certain buckles behind the sad- dle. Martha Deane looked on with some surprise at this proceeding, but as Miss Lavender continued silent, she asked no questions. " There ! " exclaimed the spinster, when everything was ready, " now I 'm good for a week's travel, if need be ! You want to know where I 'm goin', child, I see, and you might as well out with the words, though not much use, for I hardly know myself." " Betsy," said Martha, " you seem so strange, so unlike yourself, ever since you came home last evening. What is it?" " I remembered somethin', on the way up ; my head 's been so bothered that I forgot things, never mind what, for I must have some business o' my own or I would n't seem to belong to myself; and so I 've got to trapes round considerable, money matters and the likes, and folks a'n't always ready for you to the minute; therefore count on more time than what 's needful, say I." u And you can't guess when you will be back ? " Mar- tha asked. " Hardly under a week. I want to finish up everything and come home for a good long spell." THE STORY OF KENNETT. 3i3 "With these words she descended to the road, valise in hand, buckled it to the saddle, and mounted the horse. Then she said good-bye to Martha, and rode briskly away, down the Philadelphia road. Several days passed and nothing was heard of her. Gil- bert Potter remained on his farm, busy with the labor of the opening spring ; Mark Deane was absent, taking meas urements and making estimates for the new house, and Sally Fairthorn spent all her spare time in spinning flax for a store of sheets and table-cloths, to be marked " S. A. F." in red silk, when duly woven, hemmed, and bleached. One afternoon, during Miss Lavender's absence, Dr. Deane was again caiieu upon to attend Old-man Barton. It was not an agreeable duty, for the Doctor suspected that something more than medical advice was in question. He had not visited the farm-house since his discovery of Mar- tha's attachment to Gilbert Potter, had even avoided intercourse with Alfred Barton, towards whom his manner became cold and constrained. It was a sore subject in his thoughts, and both the Bartons seemed to be, in some manner, accessory to his disappointment The old man complained of an attack of " buzzing in the head," which molested him at times, and for which bleed- ing was the Doctor's usual remedy. His face had a flushed, congested, purple hue, and there was an unnaturaF glare in his eyes ; but the blood flowed thickly and slug- gishly from his skinny arm, and a much longer time than usual elapsed before he felt relieved. " Gad, Doctor ! " he said, when the vein had been closed, " the spring weather brings me as much fulness as a young buck o' twenty. I 'd be frisky yet, if 't was n't for them legs. Set down, there ; you 've news to tell me ! " "I think, Friend Barton," Dr. Deane answered, "thee 'd better be quiet a spell. Talking is n't exactly good for thee." Eh?" the old man growled; "maybe you'd like to 844 THE STORY OF KENNETT. think so, Doctor. If I am house-bound, I pick up some things as they go around. And I know why you let our little matter drop so suddent." He broke off with a short, malicious laugh, which excited the Doctor's ire. The latter seated himself, smoothed his garments and his face, became odorous of bergarnot and wintergreen, and secretly determined to repay the old man for this thrust " I don't know what thee may have heard, Friend Bar- ton," he remarked, in his blandest voice. " There is always plenty of gossip in this neighborhood, and some persons, no doubt, have been too free with my name, mine and my daughter's, I may say. But I want thee to know that that has nothing to do with the relinquishment of my visits to thee. If thee 's curious to learn the reason, perhaps thy son Alfred may be able to give it more circumstantially than I can." " What, what, what ! " exclaimed the old man. " The boy told you not to come, eh ? " " Not in so many words, mind thee ; but he made it un- necessary, quite unnecessary. In the first place, he gave me no legal evidence of any property, and until that was done, my hands were tied. Further, he seemed very loath to address Martha at all, which was not so singular, consid- ering that he never took any steps, from the first, to gain her favor ; and then he deceived me into imagining that she wanted time, after she had positively refused his ad- dresses. He is mistaken, and thee too, if you think that I am very anxious to have a man of no spirit and little prop- erty for my son-in-law ! " The Doctor's words expressed more than he intended. They not only stung, but betrayed his own sting. Old-man Barton crooked his claws around his hickory staff, and shook with senile anger ; while his small, keen eyes glared on his antagonist's face. Yet he had force enough to wail until the first heat of his feeling subsided. THE STORY OF KENMTT. 34A " Doctor," he then said, " mayhap my boy 's better than a man o' no name and no property. He 's worth, anyways, what I choose to make him worth. Have you made up y*r mind to take the t'other, that you 've begun to run him down, eh ? " They were equally matched, this time. The color came into Dr. Deane's face, and then faded, leaving him slightly livid about the mouth. He preserved his external calm ness, by a strong effort, but there was a barely perceptible tremor in his voice, as he replied, " It is not pleasant to a man of my years to be made a tool of, as I have every reason to believe thy son has at- tempted. If I had yielded to his persuasions, I should have spent much time all to no purpose, I doubt not in endeavoring to ascertain what thee means to do for him in thy will. It was, indeed, the only thing he seemed to think or care much about If he has so much money of his own, as thte says, it is certainly not creditable that he should be so anxious for thy decease." The Doctor had been watching the old man as he spoke, and the increasing effect of his words was so perceptible that he succeeded in closing with an agreeable smile and a most luxurious pinch of snuff. He had not intended to say so much, at the commencement of the conversation, but he had been sorely provoked, and the temptation was irresistible. The effect was greater than he had imagined. Old Bar- ton's face was so convulsed, that, for a few minutes, the Doctor feared an attack of complete paralysis. He became the physician again, undid his work as much as possible, and called Miss Ann into the room, to prevent any renewal of the discussion. He produced his stores of entertaining gossip, and prolonged his stay until all threatening symp- toms of the excitement seemed to be allayed. The old man returned to his ordinary mood, and listened, and made his gruff comments, but with temporary fits of abstraction. 846 THE bTORY OF KENJSETT. After the Doctor's departure, he scarcely spoke at all, foi the remainder of the evening. A day or two afterwards, when Alfred Barton returned in the evening from a sale in the neighborhood, he was aware of a peculiar change in his father's manner. H* first impression was that the old man, contrary to D Deane's orders, had resumed his rations of brandy, and exceeded the usuai allowance. There was a vivid color on his flabby cheeks ; he was alert, talkative, and frequently chuckled to himself, shifting the hickory staff from hand to hand, or rubbing his gums backward and forward on its rounded end. He suddenly asked, as Alfred was smoking his pipe be fore the fire, " Know what I 've been thinkin' of, to-day, boy ? " " No, daddy ; anything about the crops ? " " Ha ! ha ! a pretty good crop for somebody it '11 be ! Nearly time for me to make my will, eh? 9l 'in so old and weak no life left in me can't last many days ! " He laughed with a hideous irony, as he pronounced these words. His son stared at him, and the fire died out in the pipe between his teeth. Was the old man getting childish ? he asked himself. But no ; he had never looked more dia- bolically cunning and watchful. "Why, daddy," Alfred said at last, "I thought I fan- cied, at least, you 'd done that, long ago." " Maybe I have, boy ; but maybe I want to change it I had a talk with the Doctor when he came down to bleed me, and since there 's to be no match between you and the girl" He paused, keeping his eyes on his son's face- which .engthened and grew vacant with a vague alarm. " Why, then," he presently resumed, " you 're so much poorer by the amount o' her money. Would it be fair, do you think, if I was to put that much to what I might haf meant for you before ? Don't you allow you ought to have a little more, on account o' your disapp'intment? THE STORY OF KENNET'f 847 "If you think so, dad, it's all right,' said the son, relight- ing his pipe. " I don't know, though what Elisha 'd say to it ; but then, he 's no right to complain, for he married full as much as I 'd ha' got" " That he did, boy ; and when al) 's said and done, the money 's my own to do with it what I please. There 's no law o' the oldest takin' all. Yes, yes, I '11 have to make a new will ! " A serene joy diffused itself through Alfred Bartou' breast He became frank, affectionate, and confidential. " To tell you the truth, dad," he said, " I was mighty afraid you 'd play the deuce with me, because all 's over between me and Martha Deane. You seemed so set on it" " So I was so I was," croaked the old man, " but I 've got over it since I saw the Doctor. After all I 've heerd, she 's not the wife for you ; it 's better as it is. You 'd rayther have the money without her, tell the truth now, you dog, ha ! ha ! " " Damme, dad, you 've guessed it ! " Alfred cried, joining hi the laugh. " She 's too high-flown for me. I never fancied a woman that 's ready to take you down, every other word you say ; and I '11 tell you now, that I had n't much stomach for the match, at any time ; but you wanted it, you know, and I 've done what I could, to please you." " You 're a good boy, Alfred, a mighty good boy." There was nothing very amusing in this opinion, but the old man laughed over it, by fits and starts, for a long time. " Take a drop o' brandy, boy ! " he said. " You may aa well have my share, till I 'm ready to begin ag'iu." This was the very climax of favor. Alfred arose with a broad beam of triumph on his face, filled the glass, and saying, " Here 's long life to you, dad ! " turned it into his mouth. " Long life ? " the old man muttered. " It 's pretty ioug M it is, eighty-six and over ; but it may be ninety-six, 01 348 THE STORY OF KENNETT. a hundred and six; who knows? Anyhow, boj, long short, I '11 make a new will ! " Giles was now summoned, to wheel him into the adjoin- ing room and put him to bed. Alfred Barton took a second glass of brandy (after the door was closed), lighted a fresh pipe, and seated himself again before the embers to enjoy the surprise and exultation of his fortune. To think that he had worried. himself so long for that which finally came of itself! Half his fear of the old man, he reflected, had been needless ; in many things he had acted like the veriest fool ! Well, it was a consolation to know that all his anxieties were over. The day that should make him a rich and important man might be delayed (his father's strength and vitality were marvellous), but it was certain to come. Another day or two passed by, and the old man's quick, garrulous, cheerful mood continued, although he made no further reference to the subject of the will. Alfred Barton deliberated whether he should suggest sending for Lawyer Stacy, but finally decided not to hazard his prospects by a show of impatience. He was therefore not a little sur- prised when his sister Ann suddenly made her appearance in the barn, where he and Giles were mending some dilap- idated plough-harness, and announced that the lawyer was even then closeted with their father. Moreover, for the first time in his knowledge, Ann herself had been banished from the house. She clambered into the hay-mow, sat down in a comfortable spot, and deliberately plied her knitting-needles. Ann seemed to take the matter as coolly as if it were an every-day occurrence, but Alfred could not easily recover from his astonishment. There was more than accident here, he surmised. Mr. Stacy had made his usual visit, not a fortnight before ; his father's determination had evi- dently been the result of his conversation with Dr. Deane, and in the mean time no messenger had been sent tc THE STORY OF KENNETT. Chester, neither was there time for a letter to reach there. Unless Dr. Deane himself were concerned in secretly bringing about the visit, a most unlikely circumstance, Alfred Barton could not understand how it happened. u How did th' old man seem, when you left the house ? " he asked. " 'Pears to me I ha'n't seen him so chipper these twenty years," said Ann. " And how long are they to be left alone ? " " No tellin'," she answered, rattling her needles. " Mr. Stacy '11 come, when all 's done ; and not a soul is to go any nearder the house till he gives the word." Two hours, three hours, four hours passed away, before the summons came. Alfred Barton found himself so curi- ously excited that he was fain to leave the harness to Giles, and quiet himself with a pipe or two in the meadow. He would have gone up to the Unicorn for a little stronger refreshment, but did not dare to venture out of sight of the house. Miss Ann was the perfect image of Patience in a hay-mow, smiling at his anxiety. The motion of her nee- dles never ceased, except when she counted the stitches in narrowing. Towards sunset. Mr. Stacy made his appearance at the barn-door, but his face was a sealed book. On the morning of that very day, another mysterious incident occurred. Jake Fairthorn had been sent to Car- son's on the old gray mare, on some farm-errand, per- haps to borrow a pick-axe or a post-spade. He had returned as far as the Philadelphia road, and was entering the thick wood on the level before descending to Redley Creek, when he perceived Betsy Lavender leading Gilbert Potter's bay horse through a gap in the fence, after which he commenced putting up the rails behind her. " Why, Miss Betsy ! what are you doin' ? " cried Jake, spurring up to the spot a Boys should speak when they 're spoken to, and not 350 THE STQKY OF KENNETT. come where they 're not wanted," she answered, in u savage tone. " Maybe I 'm goin' to hunt bears." " Oh, please, let me go along ! " eagerly cried Jake, who believed in bears. " Go along ! Yes, and be eat up." Miss Lavendei looked very much annoyed. Presently, however, her face became amiable ; she took a buckskin purse out of her pocket, selected a small silver coin, and leaning over the fence, held it out to Jake. " Here ! " she said, " here 's a 'levenpenny-bit for you, if you '11 be a good boy, and do exackly as I bid you. Can you keep from gabblin', for two days ? Can you hold your tongue and not tell anybody till day after to-morrow that you seen me here, goin' into the woods ? " " Why, that 's easy as nothin' ! " cried Jake, pocketing the coin. Miss Lavender, leading the horse, disappeared among the trees. But it was not quite so easy as Jake supposed. He had not been at home ten minutes, before the precious piece of silver, transferred back and forth between his pocket and his hand in the restless ecstasy of possession, was per- ceived by Joe. Then, as Jake stoutly refused to tell where it came from, Joe rushed into the kitchen, exclaiming, " Mammy, Jake 's stole a levy ! " This brought out Mother Fairthorn and Sally, and the unfortunate Jake, pressed and threatened on all sides, began to cry lamentably. " She '11 take it from me ag'in, if I tell," he whimpered. " She ? Who ? " cried both at once, their curiosity now fully excited ; and the end of it was that Jake told the whole story, and was made wretched. Well ! " Sally exclaimed, " this beats all ! Gilbert Pot- ter's bay horse, too ! What ever could she be after ? 1 11 have no peace till I tell Martha, and so I may as well gc up at once, for there 's something in the wind, and if sht don't know already, she ought to ! " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 351 Thereupon Sally put on her bonnet, leaving her pewters half scoured, and ran rather than walked to the village. Martha Deane could give no explanation of the circum- stance, but endeavored, for Miss Lavender's sake, to con- ceal her extreme surprise. " "NVe shall know what it means," she said, " when Betey nonies home, and if it 's anything that '.oncerns me, I promise, Sally, to tell you. It may, however, relate to some business of her own, and so, I think, we had bettei quietly wait and say nothing about it" Nevertheless, after Sally's departure, Martha meditated long and uneasily upon what she had heard. The fact that Miss Lavender had come back from the Potter farm- house in so unusual a frame of mind, borrowed Gilbert's horse, and set forth on some mysterious errand, had al- ready disquieted her. More than the predicted week of absence had passed, and now Miss Lavender, instead of returning home, appeared to be hiding in the woods, anx- ious that her presence in the neighborhood should not be made known. Moreover she had been seen by the land- lord of the Unicorn, three days before, near Logtown, riding towards Kennett Square. These mysterious movements filled Martha Deane with a sense of anxious foreboding. She felt sure that they were connected, in some way, with Gilbert's interests, and Miss Lavender's reticence now seemed to indicate a coming misfortune which she was endeavoring to avert. If these fears were correct, Gilbert needed her help also. He could not come to her; was she not called upon to go *o him ? Her resolution was soon taken, and she only waited until her father had left on a visit to two or three patients along the Street Road. His questions, she knew, would bring on another painfuj conflict of will, and she would save her strength for Gilbert's necessities. To avoid the inferences of the tavern loungers, she chose the longei 852 THE STOR1 OF KENflETT. way, eastward out of the village to the cross-road running past the Carson place. All the sweet, faint tokens of Spring cheered her eye* and calmed the unrest of her heart, as she rode. Among the dead leaves of the woods, the snowy blossoms of the blood-root had already burst forth in starry clusters ; the anemones trembled between the sheltering knees of the old oaks, and here and there a single buttercup dropped its gold on the meadows. These things were so many pre- sentiments of brighter days in Nature, and they awoke a corresponding faith in her own heart As she approached the Potter farm she slackened her horse's pace, and deliberated whether she should ride directly to the house or seek for Gilbert in the fields. She had not seen Mary Potter sitfce that eventful Sunday, the previous summer, and felt that Gilbert ought to be con- sulted before a visit which might possibly give pain. Her doubts were suddenly terminated by his appearance, with Sam and an ox-cart, in the road before her. Gilbert could with difficulty wait until the slow oxen had removed Sam out of hearing. " Martha ! were you coming to me ? " he asked. "As I promised, Gilbert," she said. " But do not look, so anxious. If there really is any trouble, I must learn it of you." She then related to him what she had noticed in Miss Lavender's manner, and learned of her movements. He stood before her, listening, with his hand on the mane of her horse, and his eyes intently fixed on her face. She saw the agitation her words produced, and her own vague fears returned. " Can you guess her business, Gilbert ? " she asked. " Martha," he answered, " I only know that there is some- thing in her mind, and I beiieve it concerns me. I arc afraid to guess anything more, because I have only my own wild fancies to go upon, and it won't do to give 'em play 1 " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 853 u What are those fancies, Gilbert? May I not know ?" " Can you trust me a little, Martha ? " he implored " Whatever I know, you shall know ; but if I sometimes seek useless trouble for myself, why should I seek it for you ? I '11 tell you now one fear I 've kept from you, and you '11 see what I mean." He related to her his dread that Sandy Flash might prove to be his father, and the solution of it in the high- wayman's cell. " Have I not done right ? " he asked. " I am not sure, Gilbert," she replied, with a brave smile ; " you might have tested my truth, once more, if you had spoken your fears." " I need no test, Martha ; and you won't press me for an- other, now. I '11 only say, and you '11 be satisfied with it, that Betsy seemed to guess what was in my mind, and prom- ised, or rather expected, to come back with good news." " Then," said Martha, " I must wait until she makes her appearance." She had hardly spoken the words, before a figure be- came visible between the shock-headed willows, where the road crosses the stream. A bay horse and then Betsy Lavender herself! Martha turned her horse's head, and Gilbert hastened forward with her, both silent and keenly excited. " Well ! " exclaimed Miss Betsy, " what are you two a- doin' here ? " There was news in her face, both saw ; yet they also remarked that the meeting did not seem to be entirely welcome to her. " I came," said Martha, " to see whether Gilbert could tell me why you were hiding in the woods, instead of com- ing home." "It 's that that good-for-nothin' serpent, Jake Fair- thorn ! " cried Miss Lavender. " I see it all now. Much Gilbert could tell you, howsever, or you him, o' my busi- ness, and have n't I a right to it, as well as other folks ; but 33 854 THE STORY OF KENNETT. never mind, fine as i ; 's spun it '11 come to the sun, as they say o' flax and sinful doin's ; not that such is mine, but you may think so if you like, and you '11 know in a day or two anyhow ! " Martha saw that Miss Lavender's lean hands were tremb- ling, and guessed that her news must be of vital impor- tance. " Betsy," she said, " I see you don't mean to tell us ; but one word you can't refuse is it good or bad ? " " Good or bad ? " Miss Lavender repeated, growing more and more nervous, as she looked at the two anxious faces. " Well, it is n't bad, so peart yourselves up, and ask me no more questions, this day, nor yet to-morrow, maybe ; because if you do, I '11 just screech with all my might ; I '11 holler, Gilbert, wuss 'n you heerd, and much good that '11 do you, givin' me a crazy name all over the country. I 'm in dead earnest ; if you try to worm anything more out o' me, I '11 screech ; and so I was goin' to bring your horse home, Gilbert, and have a talk with your mother, but you 've made me mortal weak betwixt and between you ; and I '11 ride back with Martha, by your leave, and you may send Sain right away for the horse. No ; let Sam come now, and walk alongside, to save me from Martha's cur'osity." Miss Lavender would not rest until this arrangement was made. The two ladies then rode away through the pale, hazy sunset, leaving Gilbert Potter in a fever of im- patience, dread, and hope. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 8M CHAPTER XXX. THE FUNERAL. THE :iext morning, at daybreak, Dr. Deane was sum- moned in haste to the Barton farm-house. Miss Betsy Lavender, whose secrets, whatever they were, had inter- fered with her sleep, heard Giles's first knock, and thrust her night-cap out the window before he could repeat it The old man, so Giles announced, had a bad spell, a 'plectic fit, Lawyer Stacy called it, and they did n't know as he 'd live from one hour to another. Miss Lavender aroused the Doctor, then dressed herself in haste, and prepared to accompany him. Martha, awak- ened by the noise, came into the spinster's room in her night-dress. " Must you go, Betsy ? " she asked. u Child, it 's a matter o' life and death, more likely death ; and Ann 's a dooless critter at best, hardly ever off the place, and need o' Chris'en help, if there ever was such ; so don't ask me to stay, for I won't, and all the better for me, for I dares n't open my lips to livin' soul till I Ve spoke with Mary Potter ! " Miss Lavender took the foot-path across the fields, ac- companied by Giles, who gave up his saddled horse to Dr. Deane. The dawn was brightening in the sky as they reached the farm-house, where they found Alfred Barton restlessly walking backwards and forwards in the kitchen, while Ann and Mr. Stacy were endeavoring to apply such scanty restoratives consisting principally of lavender and hot bricks as the place afforded. THE STORY OF KENNF.TT. An examination of the eyes and the pulse, and a last abortive attempt at phlebotomy, convinced Dr. Deane that his services were no longer needed. Death, which so many years before had lamed half the body, now asserted his claim to the whole. A wonderfully persistent principle of vitality struggled against the clogged functions, for two or three hours, then yielded, and the small fragment of soul in the old man was cast adrift, with little chance of finding a comfortable lodging in any other world. Ann wandered about the kitchen in a dazed state, drop- ping tears everywhere, and now and then moaning, a O Betsy, how '11 I ever get up the funeral dinner ? " while Alfred, after emptying the square bottle of brandy, threw himself upon the settle and went to sleep. Mr. Stacy and Miss Lavender, who seemed to know each other thoroughly at the first sight, took charge of all the necessary arrange- ments ; and as Alfred had said, "7 can't look after any- thing ; do as you two like, and don't spare expense ! " they ordered the coffin, dispatched messengers to the rela- tives and neighbors, and soothed Ann's unquiet soul by se- lecting the material for the dinner, and engaging the Uni- corn's cook. When all was done, late in the day, Miss Lavender called Giles and said, " Saddle me a horse, and if no side-saddle, a man's '11 do, for go I must ; it 's business o* my own, Mr. Stacy, and won't wait for me ; not that I want to do more this day than what I 've done, Goodness knows ; but I '11 have a fit, myself, if I don't ! " She reached the Potter farm-house at dark, and both mo f her and son were struck with her flushed, excited, and yet weary air. Their supper was over, but she refused to take anything more than a cup of tea ; her speech was forced, and more rambling and disconnected than ever When Mary Potter left the kitchen to bring some fresh cream from the spring-house, Miss Lavender hastily ap- proached Gilbert, laid her hand on his shoulder, and said, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 357 " Lad, oe good this once't, and do what I tell you. Make It reason for goin' to bed as soon as you can ; for I 've been workm' in your interest all this while, only I 've got that to tell your mother, first of all, which you must n't hear ; and you may hope as much as you please, for the news is n't bad, as '11 soon be made manifest ! " Gilbert was strangely impressed by her solemn, earnest manner, and promised to obey. He guessed, and yet feared to believe, that the long release of which his mother had spoken had come at last ; how else, he asked himself, should Miss Lavender become possessed of knowledge which seemed so important ? As early as possible he went up to his bedroom, leaving the two women alone. The sound of voices, now high and hurried, now, apparently, low and broken, came to his ears. He resisted the tempta- tion to listen, smothered his head in the pillow to further muffle the sounds, and after a long, restless struggle with his own mind, fell asleep. Deep in the night he was awakened by the noise of a shutting door, and then all was still. It was very evident, in the morning, that he had not mis- calculated the importance of Miss Lavender's communica- tion. Was this woman, whose face shone with such a min- gled light of awe and triumph, his mother ? Were these features, where the deep lines of patience were softened into curves of rejoicing, the dark, smouldering gleam of sorrow kindled into a flashing light of pride, those he had known from childhood ? As he looked at her, in wonder renewed with every one of her movements and glances, she took him by the hand and said, " Gilbert, wait a little ! " Miss Lavender insisted on having breakfast by sunrise, and as soon as the meal was over demanded her horse. Then first she announced the fact of Old-man Barton's death, and that the funeral was to be on the following day. * Mary, you must be sure and come," she said, as she 558 THE STORY OF KENNETT. took leave ; " I know Ann expects it of you. Ten o'clock, remember ! " Gilbert noticed that his mother laid aside her sewing, and when the ordinary household labor had been per- formed, seated herself near the window with a small old $ible, which he had never before seen in her hands. There was a strange fixedness in her gaze, as if only her eyes, not her thoughts, were directed upon its pages. The new expression of her face remained ; it seemed already to have acquired as permanent a stamp as the old. Against his will he was infected by its power, and moved about in barn and field all day with a sense of the unreality of things, which was very painful to his strong, practical nature. The day of the old man's funeral came. Sam led up the horses, and waited at the gate with them to receive his master's parting instructions. Gilbert remarked with sur- prise that his mother placed a folded paper between the leaves of the Bible, tied the book carefully in a linen hand- kerchief, and carried it with her. She was ready, but still hesitated, looking around the kitchen with the manner of one who had forgotten something. Then she returned to her own room, and after some minutes, came forth, paler than before, but proud, composed, and firm. " Gilbert," she said, almost in a whisper, " I have tried you sorely, and you have been wonderfully kind and pa- tient. I have no right to ask anything more ; I could tell you everything now, but this is not the place nor the time I had thought of, for so many years past. Will you let me finish the work in the way pointed out to me ? " " Mother," he answered, " I cannot judge in this matter, knowing nothing. I must be led by you ; but, pray, do not let it be long ? " "It will not be long, my boy, or I would n't ask it I have one more duty to perform, to myself, to you, and to the Lord, and it must be done in the sig;ht of men. Will THE STORY OF KENNETT. 359 you stand by me, not question my words, not interfere with my actions, however strange they may seem, but simply be- lieve and obey ? " " I will, mother," he said, " because you make me feel that I must." They mounted, and side by side rode up the glen, Mary Potter was silent ; now and then her lips moved, not, as once, in some desperate appeal of the heart for pity and help, but as with a thanksgiving so profound that it must needs be constantly renewed, to be credited. After passing Carson's, they took the shorter way across the fields, and approached the Barton farm-house from below. A large concourse of people was already assem- bled ; and the rude black hearse, awaiting its burden in the lane, spread the awe and the gloom of death over the scene. The visitors were grouped around the doors, silent or speaking cautiously in subdued tones ; and all new-com- ers passed into the house to take their last look at the face of the dead. The best room, in which the corpse lay, was scarcely used once in a year, and many of the neighbors had never before had occasion to enter it. The shabby, antiquated furniture looked cold and dreary from disuse, and the smell of camphor in the air hardly kept down the musty, mouldy odors which exhaled from the walls. The head and foot of the coffin rested on two chairs placed in the centre of the room ; and several women, one of whom was Miss Betsy Lavender, conducted the visitors back and forth, as they came. The members of the bereaved family were stiffly ranged around the walls, the chief mourners consist- ing of the old man's eldest son, Elisha, with his wife and three married ^>ons, Alfred, and Ann. Mary Potter took her son's arm, and they passed through the throng at the door, and entered the house. Gilbert silently returned the nods of greeting ; his mother neither met nor avoided the eyes of others. Her step wai 860 THE STORY OF KENNETT. firm, her head erect, her bearing full of pride and decision, Miss Lavender, who met her with a questioning glance at the door, walked beside her to the room of death, and then what was remarkable in her became very pale. They stood by the coffin. It was not a peaceful, solemn sight, that yellow face, with its wrinkles and creases and dark blotches of congealed blood, made more pronounced and ugly by the white shroud and cravat, yet a tear rolled down Mary Potter's cheek as she gazed upon it. Other visitors came, and Gilbert gently drew her away, to leave the room ; but with a quick pressure upon his arm, as if to remind him of his promise, she quietly took her seat near the mourners, and by a slight motion indicated that he should seat himself at her side. It was an unexpected and painful position ; but her face, firm and calm, shamed his own embarrassment He saw, nevertheless, that the grief of the mourners was not so pro- found as to suppress the surprise, if not indignation, which the act called forth. The women had their handkerchiefs to their eyes, and were weeping in a slow, silent, mechanical way ; the men had handkerchiefs in their hands, but their faces were hard, apathetic, and constrained. By-and-by the visitors ceased ; the attending women exchanged glances with each other and with the mourners, and one of the former stepped up to Mary Potter and said gently, " It is only the family, now." This was according to custom, which required that just before the coffin was closed, the members of the family of the deceased should be left alone with him for a few min- utes, and take their farewell of his face, undisturbed by other eyes. Gilbert would have risen, but his mother, with her hand on his arm, quietly replied, " We belong to the family." The woman withdrew, though with apparent doubt and hesitation, and they were left alone with the mourners. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 881 Gilbert could scarcely trust his senses. A swift suspi- cion of his mother's insanity crossed his mind ; but when he looked around the room and beheld Alfred Barton gaz- ing upon her with a face more livid than that of the dead man, this suspicion was followed by another, no less over- whelming. For a few minutes everything seemed to whirl and spin before his eyes ; a light broke upon him, but so unexpected, so incredible, that it came with the force of * blow. The undertaker entered the room and screwed down the lid of the coffin ; the pall-bearers followed and carried it to the hearse. Then the mourners rose and prepared to set forth, in the order of their relation to the deceased. Elisha Barton led the way, with his wife ; then Ann, clad in her Sunday black, stepped forward to take Alfred's arm. " Ann," said Mary Potter, in a low voice, which yet was heard by every person in the room, " that is my place." She left Gilbert and moved to Alfred Barton's side. Then, slightly turning, she said, " Gilbert, give your arm to your aunt" For a full minute no other word was said. Alfred Bar- ton stood motionless, with Mary Potter's hand on his arm. A fiery flush succeeded to his pallor ; his jaw fell, and his eyes were fixed upon the floor. Ann took Gilbert's arm in a helpless, bewildered way. u Alfred, what does all this mean ? " Elisha finally asked. He said nothing; Man- Potter answered for him, "It is right that he should walk with his wife rather than h sister." The horses and chairs were waiting in the lane, and helping neighbors were at the door ; but the solemn occa- sion was forgotten, in the shock produced by this announce- ment. Gilbert started and almost reeled ; Ann clung- to him with helpless terror ; and only Elisha, whose face grew dark and threatening, an&wered. 862 THE STORY OF KENNETT, w Woman," he said, " you are out of your senses ! Leavt us ; you have no business here ! " She met him with a proud, a serene and steady counte- nance. " Elisha," she answered, " we are here -to bury your father and my father-in-law. Let be until the grave haa closed over him ; then ask Alfred whether I could dare fc> take my rightful place before to-day." The solemn decision of her face and voice struck him dumb. His wife whispered a few words in his ear, and he turned away with her, to take his place in the funeral pro- cession. It was Alfred Barton's duty to follow, and if it was not grief which impelled him t<5 bury his face in his handker- chief as they issued from the door, it was a torture keener than was ever mingled with grief, the torture of a mean nature, pilloried in its meanest aspect for the public gaze. Mary, (we must not call her Potter, and cannot yet call her Barton,) rather led him than was led by him, and lifted her face to the eyes of men. The shame which she might have felt, as his wife, was lost in the one overpowering sense of the justification for which she had so long waited and suffered. When the pair appeared in the yard, and Gilbert followed with Miss Ann Barton on his arm, most of the funeral guests looked on in stupid wonder, unable to conceive the reason of the two thus appearing among the mourners. But when they had mounted and were moving off, a rumor of the startling truth ran from lip to lip. The proper order of the procession was forgotten ; some untied their horses in haste and pushed forward to convince themselves of the astonishing fact ; others gathered into groups and discussed it earnestly. Some had suspected a relation of the kind, all along, so they said ; others scouted at the story, and were ready with explanations of their own. But not a soul had another thought to spare for Old-man Barton that day. Elr. Deane and Martha heard what had happened at TF/E STORY OF KENXETT. 868 they were mounting their horses. When they took their places in the line, the singular companionship, behind the hearse, was plainly visible. Neither spoke a word, but Martha felt that her heart was beating fast, and that her thoughts were unsteady. Presently Miss Lavender rode up and took her place at her side. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and she was using her handkerchief freely. It was sometime be- fore she could command her feelings enough to say, in a husky whisper, "I never thought to ha' had a hand in such wonderful doin's, and how I held up through it, I can't tell. Glory to the Lord, the end has come ; but, no not yet not quite ; only enough for one day, Martha ; is n't it ? " " Betsy," said Martha, " please ride a little closer, and explain to me how it came about. Give me one or two points for my mind to rest on, for I don't seem to believe even what I see." " What I see. No wonder, who could ? Well, it 'a enough that Mary was married to Alf. Barton a matter o' twenty-six year ago, and that he swore her to keep it secret till th' old man died, and he 's been her husband all this while, and knowed it ! " " Father ! " Martha exclaimed in a low, solemn voice, turning to Dr. Deane, " think, now, what it was thee would have had me do ! " The Doctor was already aware of his terrible mistake. " Thee was led, child," he answered, " thee was led ! It was a merciful Providence." u Then might thee not also admit that I have been led in that other respect, which has been so great a trial to thee ? " He made no reply. The road to Old Kennett never seemed so long ; never was a corpse so impatiently followed. A sense of decency restrained those who were not relatives from pushing in 364 THE STORY OF KENNEIT. advance of those who were ; yet it was very tantalising to look upon the backs of Alfred Barton and Mary, Gilbert and Ann, when their faces must be such a sight to see ! These four, however, rode in silence. Each, it may be guessed, was sufficiently occupied with his or her own sen- sations, except, perhaps, Ann Barton, who had been thrown so violently out of her quiet, passive round of life by her father's death, that she was incapable of any great surprise. Her thoughts were more occupied with the funeral-dinner, yet to come, than with the relationship of the young man at her side. Gilbert slowly admitted the fact into his mind, but he was so unprepared for it by anything in his mother's life or his own intercourse with Alfred Barton, that he was lost in a maze of baffled conjectures. While this confu- sion lasted, he scarcely thought of his restoration to honor, or the breaking down of that fatal barrier between him and Martha Deane. His first sensation was one of humilia- tion and disappointment. How often had he been disgusted with Alfred Barton's meanness and swagger ! How much superior, in many of the qualities of manhood, was even the highwayman, whose paternity he had so feared ! As he looked at the broad, heavy form before him, in which even the lines of the back expressed cowardice and abject shame, he almost doubted whether his former disgrace was not preferable to his present claim to respect. Then his eyes turned to his mother's figure, and a sweet, proud joy swept away the previous emotion. Whatever the acknowledged relationship might be to him, to her it was honor yea, more than honor ; for by so much and so cruelly as she had fallen below the rights of her pure name as a woman, the higher would she now be set, not only in respect, but in the reverence earned by her saintly patience and self-denial. The wonderful transformation of her face showed him what this day was to her life, and he resolved that no disappointment of his own should come between her and her triumph. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 368 To Gilbert the way was not too long, nor the progress too slow. It gave him time to grow familiar, not only with the fact, but with his duty. He forcibly postponed nig wandering conjectures, and compelled his mind to dwell upon that which lay immediately before him. It was nearly noon before the hearse reached Old Ken- neth meeting-house. The people of the neighborhood, who had collected to await its arrival, came forward and assisted the mourners to alight. Alfred Barton mechan- ically took his place beside his wife, but again buried his face in his handkerchief. As the wondering, impatient crowd gathered around, Gilbert felt that all was known, and that all eyes were fixed upon himself and his mother, and his face reflected her own firmness and strength. From neither could the spectators guess what might be passing in their hearts. They were both paler than usual, and their resemblance to each other became very striking. Gilbert, in fact, seemed to have nothing of his father ex- cept the peculiar turn of his shoulders and the strong build of his chest They walked over the grassy, briery, unmarked mounds of old graves to the spot where a pile of yellow earth de- noted Old Barton's resting-place. When the coffin had been lowered, his children, in accordance with custom, drew near, one after the other, to bend over and look into the narrow pit. Gilbert led up his trembling aunt, who might have fallen in, had he not carefully supported her. As he was withdrawing, his eyes suddenly encountered those of Martha Deane, who was standing opposite, in the circle of hushed spectators. In spite of himself a light color shot into his face, and his lips trembled. The eager gossips, who had not missed even the wink of an eyelid, saw this fleeting touch of emotion, and whence it came. Thenceforth Martha shared their inspection ; but from the sweet gravity of her face, the untroubled calm of her eyes, they learned nothing more. 866 THE STORY OF KENNETT. When the grave had been filled, and the yellow mound ridged and patted with the spade, the family returned to the grassy space in front of the meeting-house, and now their more familiar acquaintances, and many who were not, gathered around to greet them and offer words of condolence. An overpowering feeling of curiosity was visible upon every face ; those who did not venture to use their tongi.es, used their eyes the more. Alfred Barton was forced to remove the handkerchief from his face, and its haggard wretchedness (which no one attributed to grief for his father's death), could no longer be hidden. He appeared to have suddenly become an old man, with deeper wrinkles, slacker muscles, and a helpless, tottering air of weakness. The corners of his mouth drooped, hollowing his cheeks, and his eyes seemed unable to bear up the weight of the lids ; they darted rapidly from side to side, or sought the ground, not daring to encounter, for more than an instant, those of others. There was no very delicate sense of propriety among the people, and very soon an inquisitive old Quaker re- marked, "Why, Mary, is this true that I hear? Are you two man and wife ? " " We are," she said. " Bless us ! how did it happen ? " The bystanders became still as death, and all ears were stretched to catch the answer. But she, with proud, im- penetrable calmness, replied, * It will be made known." And with these words the people were forced, that daj to be satisfied. THE 8TORT OF KENNETT. 147 CHAPTER XXXL THE WILL. DURING the homeward journey from the grave. Gilbert And his mother were still the central figures of interest That the members of the Barton family were annoyed and humiliated, was evident to all eyes ; but it was a pitiful, undignified position, which drew no sympathy towards them, while the proud, composed gravity of the former com- manded respect. The young men and women, especially, were unanimously of the opinion that Gilbert had conducted himself like a man. They were disappointed, it was true, that he and Martha Deane had not met, in the sight of alL It was impossible to guess whether she had been already aware of the secret, or how the knowledge of it would affect their romantic relation to each other. Could the hearts of the lovers have been laid bare, the people would have seen that never had each felt such need of the other, never had they been possessed with such restless yearning. To the very last, Gilbert's eyes wan- dered from time to time towards the slender figure in the cavalcade before him, hoping for the chance of a word or look ; but Martha's finer instinct told her that she must yet hold herself aloof. She appreciated the solemnity of the revelation, saw that much was yet unexplained, and could have guessed, even without Miss Lavender's mysterious hints, that the day would bring forth other and more im- portant disclosures. As the procession drew nearer Kennett Square, the curi- osity of the funeral guests, baulked and yet constantly stim 368 THE STOUT OP KENNETT. ulated, "began to grow disorderly. Sally Fairthorn was fa uch a flutter that she scarcely knew what she said or did ; Mark's authority alone prevented her from dashing up to Gilbert, regardless of appearances. The old men, especially those in plain coats and broad-brimmed hats, took every opportunity to press near the mourners ; and but for Miss Betsy Lavender, who hovered around the latter like a watchful dragon, both Gilbert and his mother would have O ' been seriously annoyed. Finally the gate at the lane-end closed upon them, and the discomfited public rode on to the village, tormented by keen envy of the few who had been bidden to the funeral-dinner. When Mary alighted from her horse, the old lawyer approached her. " My name is Stacy, Mrs. Barton," he said, " and Miss Lavender will have told you who 1 am. Will you let me have a word with you in private ? " She slightly started at the name he had given her ; it was the first symptom of agitation she had exhibited. He took her aside, and began talking earnestly in a low tone. Elisha Barton looked on with an amazed, troubled air, and presently turned to his brother. " Alfred," he said, " it is quite time all this was ex- plained." But Miss Lavender interfered. " It 's your right, Mr. Elisha, no denyin' that, and the right of all the fam'ly ; so we 've agreed to have it done afore all together, in the lawful way, Mr. Stacy bein' a lawyer ; but dinner first, if you please, for eatin' 's good both for grief and cur'osity, and it 's hard tellin' which is uppermost in this case. Gilbert, come here ! * He was standing alone, beside the paling. He obeyed her call. " Gilbert, shake hands with your uncle and aunt Mr. Elisha, this is your nephew Gilbert Barton, Mr. Alfred'i on.* THE STORY OF KENNETT. 36S They looked at each other for a moment There was that in Gilbert's face which enforced respect .Contrasted with his father, who stood on one side, darting stealthy glances at the group from the corners of his eyes, his bear- ing was doubly brave and noble. He offered his hand in silence, and both Elisha Barton and his wife felt them- Belves compelled to take it Then the three sons, who knew the name of Gilbert Potter, and were more astonished than shocked at the new relationship, came up and greeted their cousin in a grave but not unfriendly way. " That 's right ! " exclaimed Miss Lavender. " And now come in to dinner, all o' ye ! I gev orders to have the meats dished as soon as the first horse was seen over the rise o' the hill, and it '11 all be smokin' on the table." Though the meal was such as no one had ever before seen in the Barton farm-house, it was enjoyed by very few of the company. The sense of something to come after it made them silent and uncomfortable. Mr. Stacy, Miss Lavender, and the sons of Elisha Barton, with their wives, carried on a scattering, forced conversation, and there was a general feeling of relief when the pies, marmalade, and cheese had been consumed, and the knives and forks laid crosswise over the plates. When they arose from the table, Mr. Stacy led the way into the parlor. A fire, in the mean time, had been made in the chill, open fireplace, but it scarcely relieved the dreary, frosty aspect of the apartment The presence of the corpse seemed to linger there, attaching itself with ghastly distinctness to the chair and hickory staff in a corner. The few dinner-guests who were not relatives understood that this meeting excluded them, and Elisha Barton was therefore surprised to notice, after they had taken their seats, that Miss Lavender was one of the company. " I thought," he said, with a significant look, rt that ' wai to be the family only." 84 WO THE STORY OF KENNETT. *Miss Lavender is one of the witnesses to the will," Ml Stacy answered, " and her presence is necessary, moreover, as an important testimony in regard to some of its pro- visions. " Alfred Barton and Gilbert both started at these words, but from very different feelings. The former, released from public scrutiny, already experienced a comparative degree of comfort, and held up his head with an air of courage j yet now the lawyer's announcement threw him into an agitation which it was not possible to conceal. Miss Lav- ender looked around the circle, coolly nodded her head to Elisha Barton, and said nothing. Mr. Stacy arose, unlocked a small niche let into the wall of the house, and produced the heavy oaken casket in which the old man kept the documents relating to his property. This he placed upon a small table beside his chair, opened it, and took out the topmost paper. He was completely master of the situation, and the deliberation with which he surveyed the circle of excited faces around him seemed to indicate that he enjoyed the fact. " The last will and testament of Abiah Barton, made the day before his death," he said, " revokes all former wills, which were destroyed by his order, in the presence of my- self and Miss Elizabeth Lavender." All eyes were turned upon the spinster, who again nodded, with a face of preternatural solemnity. " In order that you,' his children and grandchildren," Mr. Stacy continued, " may rightly understand the de- ceased's intention in making this last will, when, the time comes for me to read it, I must first inform you that he was acquainted with the fact of his son Alfred's marriage with Mary Potter." Alfred Barton half sprang from his seat, and then fell back with the same startled, livid face, which Gilbert al- ready knew. The others held their breath in suspense, except Mary, who sat near the lawyer, firm, cold, and un- moved. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 871 * The marriage of Alfred Barton and Mary Potter musl therefore be established, to your satisfaction," Mr. Stacy resumed, turning towards Elisha. " Alfred Barton, I ask you to declare whether this woman is your lawfully wedded wife?" A sound almost like a groan came from his throat, but it formed the syllable, " Yes." u Further, I ask you to declare whether Gilbert Barton, who has until this day borne his mother's name of Potter, is your lawfully begotten son ? " " Yes." " To complete the evidence," said the lawyer, " Mary Barton, give me the paper in your hands." She untied the handkerchief, opened the Bible, and handed Mr. Stacy the slip of paper which Gilbert had seen her place between the leaves that morning. The lawyer gave it to Elisha Barton, with the request that he would read it aloud. It was the certificate of a magistrate at Burlington, in the Colony of New Jersey, setting forth that he had united in wedlock Alfred Barton and Mary Potter. The date was in the month of June, 1771. " This paper," said Elisha, when he had finished reading, u appears to be genuine. The evidence must have been satisfactory to you, Mr. Stacy, and to my father, since it appears to have been the cause of his making a new will ; but as this new will probably concerns me and my children, J demand to know why, if the marriage was legal, it has been kept secret so long ? The fact of the marriage does not explain what has happened to-day." Mr. Stacy turned towards Gilbert's mother, and made a sign. " Shall I explain it in my way, Alfred ? " she asked, " o will you, in yours ? " There 's but one story," he answered, " and I guest it tails to your place to tell it." 872 THE STORY OF KENNETT. u It does ! " she exclaimed. " You, Elisha and Ann, and you, Gilbert, my child, take notice that every word of what I shall say is the plain God's truth. Twenty-seven years ago, when I was a young woman of twenty, I came to this farm to help Ann with the house-work. You remember it, Ann ; it was just after your mother's death. I was poor , I had neither father nor mother, but I was as proud as the proudest, and the people called me good-looking. You were vexed with me, Ann, because the young men came now and then, of a Sunday afternoon ; but I put up with your hard words. You did not know that I understood what Alfred's eyes meant when he looked at me ; I put up with you because I believed I could be mistress of the house, in your place. You have had your revenge of me since, if you felt the want of it so let that rest ! " She paused. Ann, with her handkerchief to her eyes, sobbed out, " Mary, I always liked you better 'n you thought" " I can believe it," she continued, " for I have been forced to look into my heart and learn how vain and mistaken I then was. But I liked Alfred, in those days ; he was a gay young man, and accounted good-looking, and there were merry times just before the war, and he used to dress bravely, and was talked about as likely to marry this girl or that. My head was full of him, and I believed my heart was. I let him see from the first that it must be honest love between us, or not at all ; and the more I held back, the more eager was he, till others began to notice, and the matter was brought to his father's ears." u I remember that ! " cried Elisha, suddenly. " Yet it was kept close," she resumed. " Alfred told me that the old man had threatened to cut him out of his will if he should marry me, and I saw that I must leave the form ; but I gave out that I was tired of the country, and wanted to find service in Philadelphia. I believed that Alfred would follow -me in a week or two, and he did. He THE STOfet D* KENNLTT. 873 brought ne'ws I did n't expect, and it turned my head up- side down. His father had had a paralytic stroke, and nobody believed he 'd live more than a few weeks. It was in the beginning of June, and the doctors said he could n't get over the hot weather. Alfred said to me, Why wait? you '11 be taking up with some city fellow, and I want you to be my wife at once. On my side I thought, Let him be made rich and free by his father's death, and wives will be thrown in his way ; he '11 lose his liking for me, by little and little, and somebody else will be mistress of the farm. So I agreed, and we went to Burlington together, as being more out of the way and easier to be kept secret ; but just before we came to the Squire's, he seemed to grow fearsome all at once, lest it should be found out, and he bought a Bible and swore me by my soul's salvation never to say I was married to him until after his father died. Here 's the Bible, Alfred ! Do you remember it ? Here, here 's the place where I kissed it when I took the oath ! " She rose from her seat, and held it towards him. No one could doubt the solemn truth of her words. He nodded his head mechanically, unable to speak. Still standing, she turned towards Elisha Barton, and exclaimed, "He took the same oath, but what did it mean to him! What does it mean to a man ? I was young and vain ; I thought only of holding fast to my good luck ! I never thought of of" (here her faced flushed, and her voice began to tremble) " of you, Gilbert ! I fed my pride by hoping for a man's death, and never dreamed I was bringing a curse on a life that was yet to come ! Perhaps he did n't then, either ; the Lord pardon me if I judge him too hard. What I charge him with, is that he held me to my oath, when when the fall went by and the winter, and his father lived, and his son was to be born I It was always the same, Wait a little, a month or so, maybe ; the old man could n't live, and it was the differ- ence between riches and poverty for us. Then I begged 374 THE STORY Of KENNETT. for poverty and my good name, and after that he kepi away from me. Before Gilbert was born, I hoped I might die in giving him life ; then I felt that I must live for his sake. I saw my sin, and what punishment the Lord had measured out to me, and that I must earn His forgiveness ; and He mercifully hid from my sight the long path that leads to this day ; for if the release had n't seemed so near, 1 never could have borne to wait ! " All the past agony of her life seemed to discharge itself in these words. They saw what the woman had suffered, what wonderful virtues of patience and faith had been de- veloped from the vice of her pride, and there was no heart in the company so stubborn as to refuse her honor. Gil- bert's eyes were fixed on her face with an absorbing ex- pression of reverence ; he neither knew nor heeded that there were tears on his cheeks. The women wept in genuine emotion, and even the old lawyer was obliged to wipe his dimmed spectacles. Elisha rose, and approaching Alfred, asked, in a voice which he strove to make steady, " Is all this true ? " Alfred sank his head ; his reply was barely audible, " She has said no more than the truth." " Then," said Elisha, taking her hand, " I accept you, Mary Barton, and acknowledge your place in our family." Elisha's wife followed, and embraced her with many tears, and lastly Ann, who hung totteringly upon her shoulder as she cried, " Indeed, Mary, indeed I always liked you ; I never wished you any harm ! " Thus encouraged, Alfred Barton made a powerful effort. There seemed but one course for him to take ; it was a hard one, but he took it " Mary," he said, " you have full right and justice on your side. I 've acted meanly towards you meaner, I 'm afraid, than any man before ever acted towards his wife. Not only to you, but to Gilbert ; but I always meant to THE STORY OF KENNETT. 37fi do my duty in the end. I waited from month to month, and year to year, as you did ; and then things got set in their way, and it was harder and harder to let out the truth. I comforted myself that was n't right, either, I know, but I comforted myself with the thought that you were doing well ; I never lost sight of you, and I 've been proud of Gilbert, though I did n't dare show it, and al- ways wanted to lend him a helping hand, if he 'd let me." She drew herself up and faced him with flashing eyes. " How did you mean to do your duty by me ? How die you mean to lend Gilbert a helping hand ? Was it by trying to take a second wife during my lifetime, and that wife the girl whom Gilbert loves ? " Her questions cut to the quick, and the shallow protes- tations he would have set up were stripped off in a mo- ment, leaving bare every cowardly shift of his life. Noth- ing was left but the amplest confession. " You won't believe me, Mary," he stammered, feebly weeping with pity of his own miserable plight, " and I can't ask to but it 's the truth ! Give me your Bible ! I '11 kis? the place you kissed, and swear before God that I nevc^. meant to marry Martha Deane ! I let the old man think so, because he hinted it 'd make a difference in his will, and he drove me he and Dr. Deane together to speak to her. I was a coward and a fool that I let myself be driven that far, but I could n't and would n't have married her ! " " The whole snarl 's comin' undone," interrupted Miss Lavender. " I see the end on 't. Do you mind that day, Alf. Barton, when I come upon you suddent, settin' on the log and sayin' ' I can't see the way,' the very day, I II be snaked, that you spoke to the Doctor about Martha Deane ! and then you so mortal glad that she would n't have you ! You have acted meaner 'n dirt ; I don't excuse him, Mary ; but never mind justice is justice, a ad he 's told the truth this once't" 876 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Sit down, friends ! " said Mr. Stacy. " Before the wiB is read, I want Miss Lavender to relate how it was that Abiah Barton and myself became acquainted with the fact of the marriage." The reading of the will had been almost forgotten in the powerful interest excited by Mary Barton's narrative. The curiosity to know its contents instantly revived, but was still subordinate to that which the lawyer's statement occa- sioned. The whole story was so singular, that it seemed as yet but half explained. " Well, to begin at the beginning" said Miss Lavender, "it all come o' my wishin' to help two true-lovyers, and maybe you '11 think I 'm as foolish as I 'm old, but never mind, I '11 allow that ; and I saw that nothin' could be done till Gilbert got his lawful name, and how to get it was the trouble, bein' as Mary was swore to keep secret The long and the short of it is, I tried to worm it out o' her, but no use ; she set her teeth as tight as sin, and all I did learn was, that when she was in Phildelphy I knowed Gilbert was born there, but did n't let on she lived at Treadwell's, in Fourth Street. Then turnin' over everything in my mind, I suspicioned that she must be waitin' for somebody to die, and that 's what held her bound ; it seemed to me I must guess right away, but I could n't and could n't, and so goin' up the hill, nigh puzzled to death, Gilbert ploughin' away from me, bendin' his head for'ard a little there ! turn round, Gilbert ! tnrn round, Alf. Barton I Look at them two sets o' shoulders ! " Miss Lavender's words were scarcely comprehensible, but all saw the resemblance between father and son, in the outline of the shoulders, and managed to guess her meaning. " Well," she continued, " it struck me then and there, like a streak o' lightnin' ; I screeched and tumbled like a shot hawk, and so betwixt the saddle and the ground, THE STORY OF KENNETT. 877 Aft the sayin' is, it come to me not mercy, but knowledge, all the same, you know what I mean ; and I saw them was Alf. Barton's shoulders, and I remembered the old man was struck with palsy the year afore Gilbert was born, and I dunno how many other things come to me all of a heap j and now you know, Gilbert, what made me holler. I borrowed the loan o' his bay horse and put off for Phil- delphy the very next day, and a mortal job it was ; what with bar'ls and boxes pitched hither and yon, and people laughin' at y'r odd looks, don't talk o' Phildelphy man- ners to me, for I 've had enough of 'em ! and old Tread- well dead when I did find him, and the daughter married to Greenfield in the brass and tin-ware business, it 's a mercy I ever found out anything." " Come to the point, Betsy," said Elisha, impatiently. "The point, Betsy. The p'int 's this : I made out from the Greenfield woman that the man who used to come to see Mary Potter was the perfect pictur' o' young Alf. Bar- ton ; then to where she went next, away down to the t'other end o' Third Street, boardin', he payin' the board till just afore Gilbert was born and that 's enough, thinks I, let me get out o' this rackety place. So home I posted, but not all the way, for no use to tell Mary Pot- ter, and why not go right to Old-man Barton, and let him know who his daughter-in-law and son is, and see what '11 come of it ? Th' old man, you must know, always could abide me better 'n most women, and I was n't a bit afeard of him, not lookin' for legacies, and would n't have 'em at any such price ; but never mind. I hid my horse in the woods and sneaked into the house across the fields, the back way, and good luck that nobody was at home but Ann, here ; and so I up and told the old man the whole story." " The devil ! " Alfred Barton could not help exclaiming, as he recalled his fathei 's singular manner on the evening of the day in question. 878 THE STOUT OF KENNETT. " Devil ! " Miss Lavender repeated. " More like an angel put it into my head. But I see Mr. Klisha 's fidgetty, so I '11 make short work o' the rest. He curst and swore awful, callin' Mr. Alfred a mean pup, and I dunno what all, but he had n't so much to say ag'in Mary Potter ; he allowed she was a smart lass, and he 'd heerd o' Gilbert's doin's, and the lad had grit in him. ' Then,' says I, ' here 's a mighty wrong been done, and it 's for you to set it right afore you die, and if you manage as I tell you, you can be even with Mr. Alfred ; ' and he perks up his head and asks how, and says I ' This way ' but what I said '11 be made manifest by Mr. Stacy, without my jumpin' ahead o' the proper time. The end of it was, he wound up by sayin', ' Gad, if Stacy was only here ! ' ' I '11 bring him ! ' says I, and it was fixed betwixt and between us two, Ann knowin' nothin' o' the matter ; and off I trapesed back to Chester, and brung Mr. Stacy, and if that good-for- nothin' Jake Fairthorn had n't ha' seen me " "That will do, Miss Lavender," said Mr. Stacy, inter- rupting her. " I have only to add that Abiah Barton was so well convinced of the truth of the marriage, that his O ' new will only requires the proof which has to-day been furnished, in order to express his intentions fully and com- pletely. It was his wish that I should visit Mary Barton on the very morning afterwards ; but his sudden death prevented it, and Miss Lavender ascertained, the same evening, that Mary, in view of the neglect and disgrace which she had suffered, demanded to take her justification into her own hands. My opinion coincided with that of Miss Lavender, that she alone had the right to decide in the matter, and that we must give no explanation until she had asserted, in her own way, her release from a most shameful and cruel bond." It was a proud moment of Miss Lavender's life, when, in addition to her services, the full extent of which would presently be known, a lawyer of Mr. Stacy's reputation so respectfully acknowledged the wisdom of her judgment. THE STORY OF KENKETT. 879 "If further information upon any point is required," observed the lawyer, " it may be asked for now ; other- wise, I will proceed to the reading of the will." " Was was my father of sound mind, that is, com- petent to dispose of his property ? " asked Elisha Barton, with a little hesitation. u I hope the question will not be raised," said Mr. Stacy, jravely ; " but if it is I must testify that he was in as full possession of his faculties as at any time since his first a;tack, twenty-six years ago." He then read the will, amid the breathless silence of the company. The old man first devised to his elder son ; Elisha Barton, the sum of twenty thousand dollars, invest- ments secured by mortgages on real estate ; an equal amount to his daughter-in-law, Mary, provided she was able to furnish legal proof of her marriage to his son, Alfred Barton ; five thousand dollars each to his four grand-children, the three sons of Elisha, and Gilbert Bar- ton ; ten thousand dollars to his daughter Ann ; and to his son Alfred the occupancy and use of the farm during his life, the property, at his death, to pass into the hands of Gilbert Barton. There was also a small bequest to Giles, and the reversions of the estate were to be divided equally among all the heirs. The witnesses to the will were James Stacy and Elizabeth Lavender. Gilbert and his mother now recognized, for the first time, what they owed to the latter. A sense of propriety kept them silent ; the fortune which had thus unexpect- edly fallen into their hands was the least and poorest part of their justification. Miss Lavender, also, was held to silence, but it went hard with her. The reading of the will gave her such an exquisite sense of enjoyment that she felt quite choked in the hush which followed it "As the marriage is now proven," Mr. Stacy said, fold- ing up the paper, " there is nothing to prevent the will from being carried into effect" 880 THE STORY OF KENNETT. u No, I suppose not," said Elisha ; " it is as fair as could be expected." " Mother, what do you say ? " asked Gilbert, suddenly. " Your grandfather wanted to do me justice, my boy," said she. " Twenty thousand dollars will not pay me for twenty-five years' of shame ; no money could ; but it was the only payment he had to offer. I accept this as I ac- cepted my trials. The Lord sees fit to make my worldly path smooth to my feet, and I have learned neither to reject mercy nor wrath." She was not elated ; she would not, on that solemn da;, even express gratification in the legacy, for her son's sake. Though her exalted mood was but dimly understood by the others, they felt its influence. If any thought of disputing the will, on the ground of his father's incompetency, had ever entered Elisha Barton's mind, he did not dare, then or afterwards, to express it. The day was drawing to a close, and Elisha Barton, with his sons, who lived in the adjoining township of Penns- bury, made preparations to leave. They promised soon to visit Gilbert and his mother. Miss Lavender, taking Gil- bert aside, announced that she was going to return to Dr. Deane's. " I s'pose I may tell her," she said, trying to hide her feelings under a veil of clumsy irony, " that it 's all up be twixt and between you, now you 're a rich man ; and of course as she would n't have the father, she can't think o takin' the son." " Betsy," he whispered, " tell her that I never yet needed her love so much as now, and that I shall come to her to- morrow." " Well, you know the door stands open, even accordin' to the Doctor's words." As Gilbert went forth to look after the horses, Alfred Barton followed him. The two had not spoken directly to each other during the whole day. THE STORY OF KENNETT. 381 ** Gilbert," said the father, putting his hand on the son's shoulder, "you know, now, why it always cut me, to have you think ill of me. I deserve it, for I 've been no father to you ; and after what you 've heard to-day, I may never have a chance to be one. But if you could give me a chance if you could " Here his voice seemed to fail. Gilbert quietly withdrew his shoulder from the hand, hesitated a moment, and then eaid, " Don't ask me anything now, if you please. I can pnly think of my mother to-day." Alfred Barton walked to the garden-fence, leaned hia arms upon it, and his head upon them. He was still lean- ing there, when mother and sou rode by in the twilight, on their way home. 882 THE STORY OP KENNETT CHAPTER XXXTT. THE LOVERS. BOTH mother and son made the homeward ride in si lence. A wide space, a deep gulf of time, separated them from the morning. The events of the day had been so startling, so pregnant with compressed fate, the emotions they had undergone had been so profound, so mixed of the keenest elements of wonder, pain, and pride, that a feeling of exhaustion succeeded. The old basis of their lives seemed to have shifted, and the new foundations were not yet firm under their feet Yet, as they sat together before the hearth-fire that even- ing, and the stern, proud calm of Gilbert's face slowly melted into a gentler and tenderer expression, his mothei was moved to speak. " This has been my day," she said ; " it was appointed and set apart for me from the first ; Jt belonged to me, and I have used it, in my right, from sun to sun. But I feel now, that it was not my own strength alone that held me up. I am weak and weary, and it almost seems that I fail in thanksgiving. Is it, Gilbert, because you do not rejoice as I had hoped you would ? " " Mother," he answered, " whatever may happen in mj life, I can never feel so proud of myself, as I felt to-day, to be your son. I do rejoice for your sake, as I shall for my own, no doubt, when I get better used to the truth. You could not expect me, at once, to be satisfied with a father who has not only acted so cruelly towards you, but whom I have suspected of being my own rival and enemy. I don't THE STORY OF KENNETT. 388 think I shall ever like the new name as well as the old, but it is enough for me that the name brings honor and mde- pendence to you ! " " Perhaps I ought to ha' told you this morning, Gilbert I thought only of the justification, not of the trial ; and it seemed easier to speak in actions, to you and to all men at once, as I did, than to tell the story quietly to you alone I feared it might take away my strength, if I did n't follow, step by step, the course marked out for me." " You were right, mother ! " he exclaimed. " What trial had I, compared with yours ? What tale had I to tell what pain to feel, except that if I had not been born, you would have been saved twenty-five years of suffering I " 'No, Gilbert! never say, never think that! I see already the suffering and the sorrow dying away as if they 'd never been, and you left to me for the rest of life the Lord grants ; to me a son has been more than a hus- band ! " " Then," he asked in an anxious, hesitating tone, " would you consider that I was not quite so much a son that any part of my duty to you was lost if I wished to bring you a daughter, also ? " u I know what you mean, Gilbert Betsy Lavender has told me all. I am glad you spoke of it, this day ; it will put the right feeling of thanksgiving into my heart and yours. Martha Deane never stood between us, my boy ; it was I that stood between you and her ! " " Mother ! " he cried, a joyous light shining from his face, you love her ? You are willing that she should be my wife?" " Ay, Gilbert ; willing, and thankful, and proud." " But the very name of her struck you down ! You fell into a deadly faint when I told you I had spoken my mind to her ! " u I see, my boy," she said ; " I see now why you never mentioned her name, from that time. It was not Martha 884 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Deane, but the name of the one you thought wanted to mn her away from you, your father's name, Gilbert, that seemed to put a stop to my life. The last trial was the hardest of all, but don't you see it was only the bit of dark ness that comes before the daylight ? " While this new happiness brought the coveted sense of thanksgiving to mother and son, and spread an unexpected warmth and peace over the close of the fateful day, there was the liveliest excitement in Kennett Square, over Miss Lavender's intelligence. That lady had been waylaid by a dozen impatient questioners before she could reach the shelter of Dr. Deane's roof; and could only purchase release by a hurried statement of the main facts, in which Alfred Barton's cruelty, and his wife's wonderful fidelity to her oath, and the justice done to her and Gilbert by the old man's will, were set forth with an energy that multiplied itself as the gossip spread. In the adjoining townships, it was reported and believed, the very next day, that Alfred Barton had tried to murder his wife and poison his father that Mary had saved the latter, and inherited, as her reward, the entire property. Once safely housed, Miss Lavender enjoyed another tri- umph. She related the whole story, in every particular, to Martha Deane, in the Doctor's presence, taking especial care not to omit Alfred's words in relation to his enforced wooing. " And there 's one thing I must n't forgit, Martha," she declared, at the close of her narrative. " Gilbert sends word to you that he needs your true-love more 'n ever, and he 's comin' up to see you to-morrow ; and says I to him, The door 's open, even accordin' to the Doctor's words ; and so it is, for he 's got his true name, and free to come You 're a man o' your word, Doctor, and nothin' 's been said or done, thank Goodness, that can't be easy mended ! " What impression this announcement made upon Dr Deane could not be guessed by either of the women. He THE STORY OF KENNETT. 885 rose, went to the window, looked into the night for a long time without saying a word, and finally betook himself to his bed. The next morning, although there were no dangerous cases on his hands, he rode away, remarking that he should not be home again until the evening. Martha knew what this meant, and also what Miss Lavender meant in hurry- ing down to Fairthorn's, soon after the Doctor's departure. She became restless with tender expectation ; her cheeks burned, and her fingers trembled so that she was forced to lay aside her needle-work. It seemed very long since she had even seen Gilbert ; it was a long time (in the calendar of lovers) since the two had spoken to each other. She tried to compare the man he had been with the man he now was, Gilbert poor, disgraced and in trouble, with Gilbert rich and honorably born ; and it almost seemed as if the latter had impoverished her heart by taking from it the need of that faithful, passionate sympathy which she had bestowed upon the former. The long hour of waiting came to an end. Roger was once more tethered at the gate, and Gilbert was in the room. It Avas not danger, this time, beyond the brink of which they met, but rather a sudden visitation of security ; yet both were deeply and powerfully agitated. Martha was the first to recover her composure. Withdrawing herself from Gilbert's arms, she said, u It was not right that the tests should be all on my side. Now it is my turn to try you, Gilbert ! " Even her arch, happy smile did not enlighten him. How, Martha ? " he asked. " Since you don't know, you are already tested. But how grave you look ! Have I not yet learned all of this wonderful, wonderful history ? Did Betsy Lavender keep something back ? " " Martha ! " he cried, " you shame me out of the words I had meant to say. But they were doubts of my own posi 85 886 THE STORY OF KENNETT. tion, not of you. Is my new name better or worse in yoof ears, than my old one ? " " To me you are only Gilbert," she answered, " as I am Martha to you. What does it matter whether we write Potter or Barton ? Either is good in itself, and so would any o'Jier name be ; but Barton means something, as the world goes, and therefore we will take it. Gilbert, I have put myself in your place, since I learned the whole truth. I guessed you would come to me with a strange, uncertain feeling, not a doubt, but rather a wonder ; and I endea r- ored to make your new circumstances clear to my mind. Our duty to your mother is plain ; she is a woman beside whom all other women we know seem \veak and insignifi- cant It is not that which troubled you, I am sure, when you thought of me. Let me say, then, that so far as our relation to your father is concerned, I will be guided en- tirely by your wishes." " Martha," he said, " that is my trouble, or, rather, my disappointment, that with my true name I must bring to you and fasten upon you the whole mean and shameful story ! One parent must always be honored at the ex- pense of the other, and my name still belongs to the one that is disgraced." "I foresaw your feeling, Gilbert. You were on the point of making another test for me ; that is not fair The truth has come too suddenly, the waters of your life have been stirred too deeply ; you must wait until they clear. Leave that to Alfred Barton and your mother. To me, I confess, he seems very weak rather than very bad. I can now understand the pains which his addresses to me must have cost him. If I ever saw fear on a man's face, it was on his when he thought I might take him at his word. But, to a man like you, a mean nature is no better than a bad one. Perhaps I feel your disappointment as deeply as you can ; yet it is our duty to keep this feeling to ourselves. For your mother's sake, Gilbert ; you must THE STORY OF KENNET1 887 not let the value of her justification be lessened in her eyes. She deserves all the happiness you and I can give her. and if she is willing to receive me, some day, as a daughter " Gilbert interrupted her words by clasping her in his arms. " Martha ! " he exclaimed, " your heart points out the true way because it is true to the core ! In these things a woman sees clearer than a man ; when I am with you only, I seem to have proper courage and independence I am twice myself! Won't you let me claim you take you soon ? My mother loves you ; she will welcome you as my wife, and will your father still stand between us ? " Martha smiled. " My father is a man of strong will," she said, " and it is hard for him to admit that his judg- ment was wrong. We must give him a little time, not urge, not seem to triumph, spare his pride, and trust to his returning sense of what is right You might claim reparation, Gilbert, for his cruel words; I could not for- bid you ; but after so much strife let there be peace, if possible." " It is at least beyond his power," Gilbert replied, " to accuse me of sordid motives. As I said before, Martha, give up your legacy, if need be, but come to me ! " " As / said before. Gilbert, the legacy is honestly mine, and I will come to you with it in my hands." Then they both began to smile, but it was a conflict of purpose which drew them nearer together, in both senses, an emulation of unselfish love, which was compromised by clasping arms and silent lips. There was a sudden noise in the back part of the house. A shrill voice was heard, exclaiming, "I will I will ! don't hold me ! " the door burst open, and Sally Fair- thorn whirled into the room, with the skirt of her gown torn loose, on one side, from the body. Behind her fol- lowed Miss Lavender, in a state of mingled amusemenl and anger. 888 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Sally kissed Martha, then Gilbert, then threw an arm around the neck of each, crying and laughing hysterically " Martha ! O Gilbert ! you '11 be married first, I said it, but Mark and I must be your bridesmaids ; don't laugh, you know what I mean ; and Betsy would n't have me break in upon you ; but I waited half an hour, and then off, up here, she after me, and we 're both out o' breath ! Did ever, ever such a thing happen ! " " You crazy thing ! " cried Miss Lavender. " No, such a thing never happened, and would n't ha' happened this time, if I 'd ha' been a little quicker on my legs ; but never mind, it serves me right ; you two are to blame, for why need I trouble my head furder about ye ? There 's cases, thev say, where two 's company, and three 's overmuch ; but you may fix it for yourselves next time, and welcome ; and there 's one bit o' wisdom I 've got by it, foller true-lovyers, and they '11 wear your feet off, and then want you to go on the stumps ! " " We won't relieve you yet, Betsy," said Gilbert ; " will we, Martha ? The good work you 've done for us is n't finished." u Is n't finished. Well, you '11 gi' me time to make my will, first. How long d' ye expect me to last, at this rate ? Is my bones brass and my flesh locus'-wood ? Am I like a tortle, that goes around the fields a hundred years ? " " No," Gilbert answered, " but you shall be like an angel, dressed all in white, with roses in your hair. Sally and Mark, you know, want to be the first bridesmaids " Sally interrupted him with a slap, but it was not very violent, and he did not even attempt to dodge it " Do you hear, Betsy ? " said Martha. " It must be as Gilbert says." ** A pretty fool you 'd make o' me," Miss Lavender re- marked, screwing up her face to conceal her happy emo- tion. Gilbert soon afterwards left for home, but returned to THK STORY OF KENNETT. 389 wards evening, determined, before all things, to ascertain dis present standing with Dr. Deane. He did not antici- pate that the task had been made easy for him ; but this was really the case. Wherever Dr. Deane had been that day, whoever he had seen, the current of talk all ran cne way. When the first surprise of the news had been ex- hausted, and the Doctor had corrected various monstrous rumors from his own sources of positive knowledge, one inference was sure to follow, that now there could be no objection to his daughter becoming Gilbert Barton's wife. He was sounded, urged, almost threatened, and finally returned home with the conviction that any further oppo- sition must result in an immense sacrifice of popularity. Still, he was not ready to act upon that conviction, at once. He met Gilbert with a bland condescension, and when the latter, after the first greeting, asked, " Have I now the right to enter your house ? " The Doctor answered, " Certainly. Thee has kept thy word, and I will will- ingly admit that I did thee wrong in suspecting thee of unworthy devices. I may say, also, that so far as I was able to judge, I approved of thy behavior on the day of thy grandfather's funeral. In all that has happened here- tofore, I have endeavored to act cautiously and prudently ; and thee will grant, I doubt not, that thy family history is so very far out of the common way, as that no man could be called upon to believe it without the strongest evidence. Of course, all that I brought forward agains* thee now falls to the ground." a I trust, then," Gilbert said, " that you have no further cause to forbid my engagement with Martha. My mother has given her consent, and we both hope for yours." Dr. Deane appeared to reflect, leaning back in his chair with his cane across his knees. " It is a very serious thing," he said, at last, " very serious, indeed. Not a lubject for hasty decision. Thee offered, if I remembeT 890 THE STORY OF KENNETT. rightly, to give me time to know thee better; therefore thee cannot complain if I were now disposed to accept thj offer." Gilbert fortunately remembered Martha's words, an a sudden decision. " I will go with you ; let it be to- morrow." " Martha," warned Dr. Deane, " is n't thee a little hasty?" " Father, I decide nothing. It is in Mary's hands. He thinks my presence will give him courage, and that I can- not refuse." The next morning, the people of Kennett Square were again startled out of their proprieties by the sight of Alfred Barton, pale, agitated, and avoiding the gaze of every one, waiting at Dr. Deane's gate, and then riding side by side with Martha down the Wilmington road. An hour before, she had dispatched Joe Fairthorn with a note to Gilbert, informing him of the impending visit Once on the way, she feared lest she had ventured too far ; it might be, as her father had said, too hasty ; and the coming meeting 398 THE STORY OF K.ENNET1. with Gilbert and his mother disquieted her not a little. It was a silent, anxious ride for both. When they reached the gate, Gilbert was on hand to receive them. His face always brightened at the sight of Martha, and his hands lifted her as tenderly as ever from the saddle. " Have I done right ? " she anxiously whis- pered. " It is for mother to say," he whispered back. Alfred Barton advanced, offering his hand. Gilbert looked upon his father's haggard, imploring face, a mo- ment; a recollection of his own disgrace shot into his heart, to soften, not to exasperate ; and he accepted the hand. Then he led the way into the house. Mary Barton had simply said to her son, " I felt that he would come, sooner or later, and that I must give him a hearing better now, perhaps, since you and Martha will be with me." They found her awaiting them, pale and resolute. Gilbert and Martha moved a little to one side, leaving the husband and wife facing each other. Alfred Barton was too desperately moved to shrink from Mary's eyes ; he strove to read something in her face, which might spare him the pain of words ; but it was a strange face he looked upon. Not that of the black-eyed, bright-cheeked girl, with the proud carriage of her head and the charming scorn of her red lip, who had mocked, fascinated, and bewildered him. The eyes were there, but they had sunk into the shade of the brows, and looked upon him with an im- penetrable expression ; the cheeks were pale, the mouth firm and rigid, and out of the beauty which seduced had grown a power to resist and command. " Will you shake hands with me, Mary ? " he faltered. She said nothing, but moved her right hand slightly towards him. It lay in his own a moment, cold and passive. " Mary ! " he cried, falling on his knees at her feet, "I'm THE STORY OF KEXXETT. 399 ruined, wretched man I No one speaks to me but to curse ; I 've no friend left in the world ; the very farm- hand leaves me ! I don't know what '11 become of me, unless you feel a little pity not that I deserve any, but I ask it of you, in the name of God ! " Martha clung to Gilbert's arm, trembling, and more deeply moved than she was willing to show. Mary Barton's face was convulsed by some passing struggle, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse and broken. " You know what it is, then," she said, " to be disgraced in the eyes of the world. If you have suffered so much in these two weeks, you may guess what I have borne for twenty-five years ! " " I see it now, Mary \ " he cried, " as I never saw it be- fore. Try me ! Tell me what to do ! " " The Lord has done it, already ; there is nothing left." He groaned ; his head dropped hopelessly upon his breast. Gilbert felt that Martha's agitation ceased. She quietly released her hold of his arm, lifted her head, and spoke, " Mother, forgive me if I speak when I should hold my peace ; I would only remind you that there is yet one thing left. It is true, as you say ; the Lord has justified you in His own way, and at His own time, and has revenged the wrong done to you by branding the sin committed towards Himself. Now He leaves the rest to your own heart Think that He holds back and waits for the words that shall declare whether you understand the spirit in which He deals towards His children ! " u Martha, my dear child ! " Mary Barton exclaimed, K what can I do ? " * It is not for me to advise you, mother. You, who put my impatient pride to shame, and make my love for Gilbert seem selfish by contrast with your long self-sacrifice ! What right have I, who have done nothing, to speak to you, who hare done so much that we never can reckon it ? But, 400 THE STORY OF KENNI.TT. remember that in the Lord's government of the world pardon follows repentance, and it is not for us to exact like for like, to the uttermost farthing ! " Mary Barton sank into a chair, covered her face wit'to her hands, and wept aloud. There were tears in Martha's eyes ; her voice trembled, aiid her words came with a softness and tenderness that soothed while they pierced : " Mother, I am a woman like yourself; and, as a woman, I feel the terrible wrong that has been done to you. It may be as hard for you now to forget, as then to bear ; but it is certainly greater and nobler to forgive than to await justice ! Because I reverence you as a strong and pure and great-hearted woman because I want to see the last and best and sweetest grace of our sex added to your name and lastly, for Gilbert's sake, who can feel nothing but pain in seeing his father execrated and shunned I as! your forgiveness for your husband ! " " Mary ! " Alfred Barton cried, lifting up his head in a last appeal, " Mary, this much, at least ! Don't go to the Courts for a divorce ! Don't get back your own name for yourself and Gilbert! Keep mine, and make it more re spectable for me ! And I won't ask you to pardon me, for I see you can't ! " " It is all clear to me, at last ! " said Mary Barton. " 1 thank you, Martha, my child, for putting me in the right path. Alfred, don't kneel to me ; if the Lord can pardon, who am I that I should be unforgiving? 1 fear me I was nigh to forfeit His mercy. Gilbert, yours was half the shame ; yours is half the wrong ; can you join me in par- doning your father and my husband ? " Gilbert was powerfully moved by the conflict of equally balanced ^motions, and but for the indication which Martha had given, he might not at once have been able to decide. But it seemed now that his course was also clear. Hi said, THE STORY OF KEXXETT. 401 "Mother, since you have asked the question, I know how it should be answered. If you forgive your husband, I forgive my my father." He stepped forward, seized Alfred Barton gently by the shoulder, and raised him to his feet. Mary Barton then took her husband's hand in hers, and said, in a solemn voice. " I forgive you, Alfred, and will try to forget I know not what you may have heard said, but I never meant to go before the court for a divorce. Your name is a part of my right, a part of Gilbert's our son's right ; it is true that you have debased the name, but we will keep it and make it honorable ! We will not do that to the name of Barton which you have done to the name of Potter ! " It was very evident that though she had forgiven, she had not yet forgotten. The settled endurance of years could not be unlearned in a moment. Alfred Barton felt that her forgiveness implied no returning tenderness, not even an increase of respect ; but it was more than he had dared to hope, and he felt humbly grateful. He saw thai a consideration for Gilbert's position had been the chief element to which he owed his wife's relenting mood, and this knowledge was perhaps his greatest encouragement. ' Mary," he said, ''you are kinder than I deserve. J wish I could make you and Gilbert understand all that I have felt. Don't think my place was easy ; it was n't. It was a hell of another kind. I have been punished in my way, and will be now to the end o' my life, while you two will be looked up to, and respected beyond any in the neighborhood ; and if I 'm not treated like a dog, it '11 only l>e for your sakes ! WH1 you let me say to the people that you have pardoned me? Will you say it yourselves ?" Martha, and perhaps Gilbert also, felt that it was the reflected image of Alfred Barton's meanness, as it came back to him in the treatment he had experienced, rather than his own internal consciousness of it, which occasioned V 402 THE STORY OF KENNETT. his misery. But his words were true thus far ; his life wai branded by it, and the pardon of those he had wronged could not make that life more than tolerable. " Why not ? " said Gilbert, replying to him. ' There has been enough of secrets. " 1 am not ashamed of forgive- ness my shame is, that forgiveness is necessary." Alfred Barton looked from mother to son with a singular, wistful expression. He seemed uncertain whether to speak or how to select his words. His vain, arrogant spirit was completely broken, but no finer moral instinct came in its place to guide him ; his impulses were still coarse, and took, from habit, the selfish color of his nature. There are some persons whom even humiliation clothes with a certain dig- nity; but he was not one of them. There are others whose tact, in such emergencies, assumes the features of principle, and sets up a feeble claim to respect ; but this quality is a result of culture, which he did not possess. He simply saw what would relieve him from the insupportable load of obloquy under which he groaned, and awkwardly hazarded the pity he had excited, in asking for it. " Mary," he stammered, "I I hardly know how to say the words, but you '11 understand me ; I want to make good to you all the wrong I did, and there seems no way but this, if you '11 let me care for you, slave for you, anything you please ; you shall have your own say in house and farm ; Ann '11 give up everything to you. She always liked you, she says, and she 's lonely since th' old man died and nobody comes near us not just at once, I mean, but after awhile, when you 've had time to think of it, and Gilbert 's married. You 're independent in your own right, I know, and need n't do it ; but, see ! it 'd give me a chance, and maybe Gilbert would n't feel quite so hard towards me, fmd"~ He stopped, chilled by the increasing coldness of his wife's face. She did not immediately reply ; to Martha's eye she seemed to be battling with some proud, vindictive instinct. But she spoke at last, and calmly : THE STORY OF KENXETT. 408 * Alfred, you should not have gone so far. I have par- doned you. and that means more than the words. It means that I must try to overcome the bitterness of my recollec- tions, that I must curb the tongues of others when they are raised against you, must greet you when we meet, and in all proper ways show the truth of my forgiveness to the world. Anger and reproach may be taken from the heart, and yet love be as far off as ever. If anything ever could load me back to you it would not be love, but duty to my son, and his desire ; but I cannot see the duty now. I may never see it. Do not propose this thing again. I will only say, if it be any comfort to you, that if you try to show your repentance as I my pardon, try to clean your name from the stain you have cast upon it, my respect shall keep pace with that of your neighbors, and I shall in this way, and in no other, be drawn nearer to you ! " " Gilbert," said Alfred Barton, " I never knew your mother before to-day. What she says gives me some hope, and yet it makes me afraid. I '11 try to bring her nearer, I will, indeed ; but I 've been governed so long by th' old man that I don't seem to have any right strength o' my own. I must have some help, and you 're the only one I can ask it of; will you come and see me sometimes ? I 've been so proud of you, all to myself, my boy ! and if I thought you could once call me ' father ' before I die " Gilbert was not proof against these words and the honest tears by which they were accompanied. Many shj., hesitating tokens of affection in his former intercourse with Alfred Barton, suddenly recurred to his mind, with their true interpretation. His load had been light, compared to his mother's ; he had only learned the true wrong in the hour of reparation ; and moreover, in assuming his father's name he became sensitive to the prominence of its shame. u Father," he answered, " if you have forfeited a son's obedience, you have still a man's claim to be helped Mother is right ; it is in your power to come nearer to ua 404 THE STORT OF KENNETT. She must stand aside and wait ; but I can cross the line which separates you, and from this time on I shall nevei cross it to remind you of what is past and pardoned, but to help you, and all of us, to forget it ! " Martha laid her hand upon Gilbert's shoulder, leaned up and kissed him upon the cheek. " Rest here ! " she said. " Let a good word close the subject ! Gilbert, take your father out and show him your farm. Mother, it is near dinner-time ; I will help you set the table. After dinner, Mr. Barton, you and I will ride home together." Her words were obeyed ; each one felt that no more should be said at that time. Gilbert showed the barn, the stables, the cattle in the meadow, and the fields rejoicing in the soft May weather ; Martha busied herself in kitchen and cellar, filling up the pauses of her labor with cheerful talk ; and when the four met at the table, so much of the constraint in their relation to each other had been conquered, that a stranger would never have dreamed of the gulf which had separated them a few hours before. Martha shrewdly judged that when Alfred Barton had eaten at his wife's table, they would both meet more easily in the future. She did not expect that the breach could ever be quite filled ; but she wished, for Gilbert's sake, to make it as narrow as possible. After dinner, while the horses were being saddled, the lovers walked down the garden-path, between the borders of blue iris and mountain-pink. " Gilbert," said Martha, " are you satisfied with what has happened ? " " Yes," he answered, " but it has shown to me that some- thing more must be done." "What?" " Martha, are these the oniy two who should be brought nearer ? " She looked at him with a puzzled face. There was a THE STORY OF KENNETT. *OS laughing light in his eyes, which brought a new lustre to hers, and a delicate blush to her fair cheeks. " Is it not too soon for me to come ? " she whispered. " You have come," he answered ; " you were in your place ; and !<- will be empty the house will be lonely, the farm without its mistress until you return to ml" 406 THE STORY OF KENNKTT. CHAPTER XXXTV THE WEDDING. THE neighborhood had decreed it. There was but on just, proper, and satisfactory conclusion to all these events. The decision of Kennett was unanimous that its story should be speedily completed. New-Garden, Marlborough, and Pennsbury, so far as heard from, gave their hearty consent; and the people would have been seriously dis- appointed the tide of sympathy might even have been checked had not Gilbert Barton and Martha Deane pre pared to fulfil the parts assigned to them. Dr. Deane, of course, floated with the current. He was too shrewd to stand forth as a conspicuous obstacle to the consummation of the popular sense of justice. He gave, at once, his full consent to the nuptials, and took the neces- sary steps, in advance, for the transfer of his daughter's fortune into her own hands. In short, as Miss Lavender observed, there was an end of snarls. The lives of the lovers were taken up, as by a skilful hand, and evenly reeled together. Gilbert now might have satisfied his ambition (and the people, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, would have sanctioned it) by buying the finest farm in the neigh borhood ; but Martha had said, " No other farm can be so much yours, and none so wel- come a home to me. Let us be satisfied with it, at least fur the first years." And therein she spoke wisely. Tt was now the middle of May, and the land was clothed THE STORY OF KENNETT. 407 in tender green, and filled with the sweet breath of sap and bud and blossom. The vivid emerald of the willow- trees, the blush of orchards, and the cones of snowy bloom along the wood-sides, shone through and illumined even the days of rain. The Month of Marriage wooed them IE every sunny morning, in every twilight fading under the torch of the lovers' star. In spite of Miss Lavender's outcries, and Martha's grave doubts, a fortnight's delay was all that Gilbert would allow. He would have dispensed with bridal costumes and merry- makings, so little do men understand of these matters; but he was hooted down, overruled, ignored, and made to feel his proper insignificance. Martha almost disappeared from his sight during the interval. She was sitting up- stairs in a confusion of lutestring, whalebone, silk, and cam- bric ; and when she came down to him for a moment, the kiss had scarcely left her lips before she began to speak oi the make of his new coat, and the fashion of the articles he was still expected to furnish. If he visited Fairthorn's, it was even worse. The sight of him threw Sally into such a flutter that she sewed the right side of one breadth to the wrong side of another, at- tempted to clear-starch a woollen stocking, or even, on one occasion, put a fowl into the pot, unpicked and undressed. It was known all over the country that Sally and Mark Deane were to be bridesmaid and groomsman, and they both determined to make a brave appearance. But there was another feature of the coming nuptials which the people did not know. Gilbert and Martha had determined that Miss Betsy Lavender should be second bridesmaid, and Martha had sent to Wilmington for a pur- ple silk, and a stomacher of the finest cambric, in which to array her. A groomsman of her age was not so easy to find ; but young Pratt, who had stood so faithfully by Gil- bert during the chase of Sandy Flash, merrily avowed his willingness to play the part ; and so it was settled without Miss Lavender's knowledge. THE STORY OF KENNETT. The appointed morning came, bringing a fair sky, mot tied with gentle, lingering clouds, and a light wind from the west The wedding company were to meet at Kennett Square, and then ride to Squire Sinclair's, where the ceie- mony would be performed by that magistrate ; and before ten o'clock, the hour appointed for starting, all the su? rounding neighborhood poured into the village. The hitching-bar in front of the Unicorn, and every post of fence or garden-paling, was occupied by the tethered horses. The wedding-guests, comprising some ten or fif- teen persons, assembled at Dr. Deane's, and each couple, as they arrived, produced an increasing excitement among the spectators. The fact that Alfred Barton had been formally pardoned by his wife and son, did not lessen the feeling with which he was regarded, but it produced a certain amount of for- bearance. The people were curious to know whether he had been bidden to the wedding, and the conviction was general that he had no business to be there. The truth is, it had been left free to him whether to come or not, and he had very prudently chosen to be absent. Dr. Deane had set up a " chair," which was to be used for the first time on this occasion. It was a ponderous machine, with drab body and wheels, and curtains of drab camlet looped up under its stately canopy. When it ap- peared at the gate, the Doctor came forth, spotless in attire, bland, smiling, a figure of sober gloss and agreeable odors. He led Mary Barton by the hand ; and her steel-colored silk and white crape shawl so well harmonized with his appearance, that the two might have been taken for man and wife. Her face was calm, serene, and full of quiet gratitude. They took their places in the chair, the lines were handed to the Doctor, and he drove away, nodding right and left to the crowd. Now the horses were brought up in pairs, and tb*> younger guests began to mount The people gathered THE STC *Y OF KENNETT. 40S closer and cioser ; and when Sam appeared, leading the well-known and beloved Roger, there was a murmur which, in a more demonstrative community, would have been a cheer. Somebody had arranged a wreath of lilac and snowy viburnum, and fastened it around Roger's forehead and he seemed to wear it consciously and proudly. Many a hand was stretched forth to pat and stroke the noble ani- mal, and everybody smiled when he laid his head caress- ingly over the neck of Martha's gray. Finally, only six horses remained unmounted; then there seemed to be a little delay in-doors. It was ex- plained when young Pratt appeared, bold and bright, lead- ing the reluctant Miss Lavender, rustling in purple splen- dor, and blushing actually blushing as she encountered the eyes of the crowd. The latter were delighted. There was no irony in the voice that cried, " Hurrah for Betsy Lavender ! " and the cheer that followed was the expression of a downright hearty good will. She looked around from her saddle, blushing, smiling, and on the point of bursting into tears ; and it was a godsend, as she afterwards re- marked, that Mark Deane and Sally Fairthorn appeared at that moment Mark, in sky-blue coat and breeches, suggested, with his rosy face and yellow locks, a son of the morning ; while Sally's white muslin and cherry-colored scarf heightened the rich beauty of her dark hair and eyes, and her full, pouting lips. They were a buxom pair, and both were tow happy in each other aud in the occasion, to conceal the least expression of it- There now only remained our hero and heroine, who im- mediately followed. No cheer greeted them, for the woii- derful chain of circumstances which had finally brought them together, made the joy of the day solemn, and the sympathy of the people reverential. Mark and Sally rep- resented the delight of betrothal ; these two the earnest anctity of wedlock 110 THE STORY OF KENNETT. Gilbert was plainly yet richly dressed in a bottle-gre*a coat, with white waistcoat and breeches ; his ruffles, gloves, hat, and boots were irreproachable. So manly looking a bridegroom had not been seen in Kennett for many a day. Martha's dress of heavy pearl-gray satin was looped up over a petticoat of white dimity, and she wore a short cloak of white crape. Her hat, of the latest style, was adorned with a bunch of roses and a white, drooping feather. In the saddle, she was charming ; and as the bridal pair slowly rode forward, followed by their attendants in the propel order, a murmur of admiration, in which there was no envy and no ill-natured qualification, went after them. A soft glitter of sunshine, crossed by the shadows of slow-moving clouds, lay upon the landscape. Westward, the valley opened in quiet beauty, the wooded hills on either side sheltering, like protecting arms, the white farm- houses, the gardens, and rosy orchards scattered along its floor. On their left, the tall grove rang with the music of birds, and was gay, through all its light-green depths, with the pink blossoms of the wild azalea. The hedges, on either side, were purple with young sprays, and a bright, breathing mass of sweet-brier and wild grape crowned the overhanging banks, between which the road ascended the hill beyond. At first the company were silent ; but the enlivening motion of the horses, the joy of the coming summer, the affectionate sympathy of Nature, soon disposed them to a lighter mood. At Hallowell's, the men left their hoes in the corn-field, and the women their household duties, to greet them by the roadside. Mark looked up at the new barn, and exclaimed, " Not quite a year ago ! Do you mind it, Gilbert ? " Martha pointed to the green turf in front of the house, and said with an arch voice, " Gilbert, do you remember the q lestion you put to mQ that evening ? " THE STORY OF KENNETT. 411 And finally Sally burst out, in mock indignation, - u Gilbert, there 's where you snapped me up, because 1 minted you to dance with Martha ; what do you think of yourself now ? " ** You all forget," he answered, " that you are speaking of somebody else." " How ? somebody else ? " asked Sally. " Yes ; I mean Gilbert Potter." u Not a bad turn-off," remarked Miss Lavender. " He 'a loo much for you. But I 'm glad, anyhow, you Ve got your tongues, for it was too much like a buryin' before, and me fixed up like King Solomon, what for, I 'd like to know ? and the day made o' purpose for a weddin', an 1 erue-love all right for once't I 'd like just to holler ant sing and make merry to my heart's content, with a nice young man alongside o' me, too, a thing that don't often happen ! " They were heartily, but not boisterously, merry after this ; but as they reached the New-Garden road, there came a wild yell from the rear, and the noise of galloping hoofs. Before the first shock of surprise had subsided, the Fairthorn gray mare thundered up, with Joe and Jake upon her back, the scarlet lining of their blue cloaks flying to the wind, their breeches covered with white hair from the mare's hide, and their faces wild with delight. They yelled again as they drew rein at the head of the procession. " Why, what upon earth " began Sally ; but Joe saved her the necessity of a question. u Daddy said we should n't go ! " he cried. " But we would, we got Bonnie out o' the field, and put off! Cousin Martha, you '11 let us go along and see you get married ; won't you, now ? Maybe we '11 never have another chance ! " This incident produced great amusement The boys received the permission they coveted, but were ordered to the rear Mark reminding them that as he was soon to be 112 THE STORY OF KENNETT. their unc.e, they rmist learn, betimes, to give heed to hli authority. " Be quiet, Mark ! *' exclaimed Sally, with a gentle slap. " Well, I don't begrudge it to 'ern," said Miss Lavender. u It 's somethin' for 'ern to remember when they 're men- grown ; and they belong to the fam'ly, which I don't ; but never mind, all the same, no more do you, Mr. Pratt ; and I wish I was younger, to do credit to you ! " Merrily trotted the horses along the bit of level upland 5 and then, as the land began to fall towards the western branch of Redley Creek, they saw the Squire's house on a green knoll to the north, and Dr. Deane's new chair already resting in the shade of the gigantic sycamore at the door. The lane-gates were open, the Squire's parlor was arranged for their reception ; and after the ladies had put themselves to rights, in the upper rooms, the company gathered to- gether for the ceremony. Sunshine, and hum of bees, and murmur of winds, and scent of flowers, came in through the open windows, and the bridal pair seemed to stand in the heart of the perfect spring-time. Yet tears were shed by all the women except the bride ; and Sally Fairthorn was so absorbed by the rush of her emotions, that she came within an ace of say- ing " I will ! " when the Squire put the question to Martha. The ceremony was brief and plain, but the previous his- tory of the parties made it very impressfve. When they had been pronounced man and wife, and the certificate of marriage had been duly signed and witnessed by all pres- ent, Mary Barton stepped forward and kissed her son and daughter with a solemn tenderness. Then the pent-up feelings of all the others broke loose, and the amount of embracing which followed was something quite unusual for Kennett. Betsy Lavender was not cheated out of her due share ; on the contrary, it was ever afterwards reported that she received more salutes than even the bride. She was kissed by Gilbert, by Mark, by her young partner, bj THE STORY OF KENNEIT. 418 Dr. Deane, and lastly by the jolly Squire himself, to saj nothing of the feminine kisses, which, indeed, being ven imperfect gifts, hardly deserve to be recorded. * Well ! " she exclaimed, pushing her ruffled hair behind her ears, and smoothing down her purple skirt, " to think o' my bein' kissed by so many men, in my old days ! but why not ? it may be my last chance, as Joe Fair- thorn says, and laugh if you please, I 've got the best of it ; and I don't belie my natur', for twistin' your head away and screechin' is only make-believe, and the more some screeches the more they want to be kissed ; but fair and square, say I, if you want it take it, and that 's just what I 've done ! " There was a fresh rush for Miss Lavender after this, and she stood her ground with commendable patience, until Mark ventured to fold her in a good-natured hug, when she pushed him away, saying, " For the Lord's sake, don't spile my new things ! There go 'way, now ! I 've had enough to last me ten year ! " Dr. Deane soon set out with Mary Barton, in the chair, and the rest of the company mounted their horses, to ride back to Kennett Square by the other road, past the quar- ries and across Tuff ken amon. As they halted in the broad, shallow bed of the creek, letting their horses drink from the sparkling water, while the wind rollicked among the meadow bloom of golden saxifrage and scarlet painted -cup and blue spiderwort before them, the only accident of the day occurred ; but it was not of a character to disturb their joyous mood. The old Fairthorn mare stretched her neck to its ut- most length before she bent it to drink, obliging Joe to lean forwards over her shoulder, to retain his hold of the short rein. Jake, holding on to Joe, leaned with him, and they waited in this painful posture till the mare slowly filled herself from the stream. Finally she seemed to be 414 THE STORY OF KENNETT. satisfied ; she paused, snorted, and then, with wide uostrHa drank an equal amount of air. Her old sides swelled the saddle-girth, broken in two places long before, and mended with tow-strings, suddenly parted, and Joe, Jake, saddle and all, tumbled down her neck into the water. They scrambled out in a lamentable plight, soused and dripping, amid the endless laughter of the company, and were glad to keep to the rear for the remainder of the ride. In Dr. Deaue's house, meanwhile, there were great prep arations for the wedding-dinner. A cook had been brought from Wilmington, at an unheard-of expense, and the village was filled with rumors of the marvellous dishes she was to produce. There were pippins encased in orange-peel and baked ; a roasted peacock, with tail spread ; a stuffed rock- fish ; a whole ham enveloped in dough, like a loaf of bread, and set in the oven ; and a wilderness of the richest and rarest pies, tarts, and custards. Whether all these rumors were justified by the dinner, we will not undertake to say ; it is certain that the meal, which was spread in the large sitting-room, was most boun- tiful. No one was then shocked by the decanters of Port and Canary wine upon the sideboard, or refused to par- take of the glasses of foamy egg-nog offered to tbem from time to time, through the afternoon. The bride-c^ke was considered a miracle of art, and the fact that Martha di- vided it with a steady hand, making the neatest and clean- est of cuts, was considered a good omen for her married life. Bits of the cake were afterwards in great demand throughout the neighborhood, not so much to eat, as to dream upon. The afternoon passed away rapidly, with mirth and noise, in the adjoining parlor. Sally Fairthorn found a peculiar pleasure in calling her friend " Martha Barton . " whereupon Mark said, " Wait a bit, Martha, and you can pay her back. Daddj THE STORY OF KEXNETT 413 Fairthorn promised this morning to give me a buildin' lot off the field back o' the corner, and just as soon as Rudd's house is up, I 'm goin' to work at mine." " Mark, do hush ! " Sally exclaimed, reddening. " and before everybody ! " Miss Lavender sat in the midst, stately, purple, and so transformed that she professed she no longer knew her own self. She was. nevertheless, the life of the company the sense of what she had done to bring on the marriage was a continual source of inspiration. Therefore, when .songs were proposed and sung, and Mark finally called upon her, uproariously seconded by all the rest, she was moved, for the last time in her life, to comply. " I dunno what you mean, expectin' such a thing o' me," she said. " 'Pears to me I 'm fool enough already, settin' here in purple and fine linen, like the Queen o' Rome, not that I don't like singin', but the contrary, quite the reverse ; but with me it 'd be a squawk and nothin' else ; and fine feathers may make fine birds for what I care, more like a poll-parrot than a nightingale, and they say }ou must stick thorns into 'em to make 'em sing; but I guess it '11 be t' other way, and my singin' '11 stick thorns into you ! " They would take no denial ; she could and must sing them a song. Slu held out until Martha said, "for my wedding-day, Betsy ! " and Gilbert added, " and mine, too." Then she declared, " Well, if I must, I s'pose I must But as for weddin'-songs, such as I 've heerd in my younger days, I dunno one of 'em, and my head 's pretty much cleared o' such things, savin' and exceptin' one that might be a sort o' \\arnin' for Mark Deane, who knows ? not that there 's sea-farin' men about these parts; but never mind, all the same ; if you don't like it, Mark, you 've brung it onto yourself! " Thereupon, after shaking herself, gravely composing hei face, and clearing her throat, she began, in a high, shrill. 416 THE STORY OF kENXETT. piercing voice, rocking her head to the peculiar lilt of the words, and interpolating short explanatory remarks, to sing 1 THE BALLAD OF THE HOUSE-CARPENTER. "' Well-met, well-met, ray own true-love! ' *She says, ' Well-met, well-met, cried he ; For 't is I have returned from the salt, salt sea, And it 's all for the love of thee ! ' " ' It 's I might ha' married a king's daughter fair,' "ffc goes on sayin', ' And fain would she ha' married me, But it 's I have refused those crowns of gold, And it 's all for the love of thee ! ' "Then she, "' If you might ha' married a king's daughter fair,' I think you are for to blame ; For it 's I have married a house-carpenter, And I think he 's a fine young man ! ' * So look out, Mark ! and remember, all o' you, that they > talkin' turn about ; and he begins " ' If you '11 forsake your house-carpenter And go along with me, I '11 take you to where the grass grows green . ' On the banks of the sweet Wil-lee! ' "'If I forsake my house-carpenter, And go along with thee, It 's what have you got for to maintain me upon, And to keep me from slave-ree ? ' u It 'si have sixteen ships at sea, All sailing for dry land, And four-and-twenty sailors all on board Shall be at your command ! ' * She then took up her lovely little babe, And she gave it kisses three; ' Lie still, lie still, my lovely little babe, And keep thy father coirra-nee! ' THE STORY OF KENNETT. 41? ' She dressed herself in rich array, And she walked in high degree, And the four-and-twenty sailors took 'em on board, And they sailed for the open sea ! " They had not been at sea two weeks, And I 'ra sure it was not three, Before this maid she began for to weep, And she wept most bitter-lee. at It 's do you weep for your gold? ' criea he; 4 Or do you weep for your store, Or do you weep for your house-carpenter You never shall see any more ? ' " ' I do not weep for my gold,' cries she, 4 Nor I do not weep for my store, But it 's I do weep for my lovely little babe, I never shall see any more ! ' " They had not been at sea three weeks, And I 'm sure it was not four, When the vessel it did spring a leak, And it sank to rise no more ! " Now, Mark, here comes the Moral : " Oh, cruel be ye, sea-farin' men, Oh, cruel be your lives, A-robbing of the house-carpenters, And a-taking of their wives! " The shouts and laughter which greeted the conclusion >f Miss Lavender's song brought Dr. Deane into the room. He was a little alarmed lest his standing in the Society might be damaged by so much and such unrestrained mer- riment under his roof. Still he had scarcely the courage to reprimand the bright, joyous faces before him ; he only smiled, shook his head, and turned to leave. " I 'm a-goin', too," said Miss Lavender, rising. " The sun 's not an hour high, and the Doctor, or somebody, must take Mary Barton home ; and it 's about time the rest o' you was makin' ready ; though they 've gone on with the supper, there 's enough to do when you get there ! " The chair rolled away again, and the bridal party re 87 418 THE STOKY OF KENNETT. mounted their horses in the warm, level light of the sink ing sun. They were all in their saddles except Gilbert and Martha. " Go on ! " he cried, in answer to their calls ; " we will follow." " It won t be half a home-comin', without you 're along," said Mark ; " but I see you want it so. Come on, boys and girls ! " Gilbert returned to the house and met Martha, descend- ing the stairs in her plain riding-dress. She descended into his open arms, and rested there, silent, peaceful, filled with happy rest. " My wife at last, and forever ! " he whispered. They mounted and rode out of the village. The fields were already beginning to grow gray under the rosy ambei of the western sky. The breeze had died away, but thd odors it had winnowed from orchard and meadow still hung in the air. Faint cheeps and chirps of nestling Jifip. came from the hedges and grassy nooks of bank and thicket, but they deepened, not disturbed, the delicious repose settling upon the land. Husband and wife rode slowly, and their friendly horses pressed nearer to each other, and there was none to see how their eyes grew deeper and darker with perfect tenderness, their lips more sweetly soft and warm, with the unspoken, because un- speakable, fortune of love. In the breath of that happy twilight all the pangs of the Past melted away ; disgrace, danger, poverty, trial, were behind them ; and before them, nestling yet unseen in the green dell which divided the glimmering landscape, lay die peace, the shelter, the life* long blessing of Home. tfCSB LIBRARY X- Z