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 <sthmns Quarrel with a Native The Village of Gatnn Songs on
the Itiver A Priest's Household An Affectionate Boatman Biding Tiiroigh
the Forests We Beach Panama II
CHAPTBB IIL
faenes in Panama Emigrants Arriving Ruined Churches 26
CHAPTER IY.
The Pacific Coast of Mexico Meal-time on the Steamer A Midnight _all at
Acapulco The Mexican Coast The Old Presidio of San Bias Touching at
Hazatlan 31
CHAPTER V.
The Coast of California A Treacherous Coast Harbor of San Diego Narrative*
of Emigration Gen. Vlllamil and his Colony The Last Day of the Voyage
Th Anchor Drops ' 4 2
CHAPTER VI.
Ptrst Impressions of San Francisco Appearance of the Town the New-Comer'i
Bewilderment Indifferent Shopkeepers Street Gold People in Town. 54
1*
Ili CONTENTS.
CHAPTER yxn.
Travelling on the Plains Might, Bain and a Ranch* The Nevada at Sunset Prairie
an? Wood Graft Among the Hills A Knot of Politicians 227
CHAPTER XXIIL
; uurney to the Volcano The Forest Trail Camping in a Storm The Volcanic Com-
munity Appearance of the Extinct Craters The Top of Polo's Peak Return to
the Mokelumne. 239
CHAPTER XXIV.
Election Scenes and Mining Characters Voting on the Mokelumne Incidents of
Digging An Englishman in Rapture* " Buckshot" Quicksilver My own Gold
Digging 251
CHAPTER XXV.
The Bainy Season The Ferry Deception of the Diggers Dry Creek and Amador's
Creek A Banehe and its Inhabitants A Female Specimen A Vision Relin-
quished 260
CHAPTER XXVL
Night in Sacramento City Perils of a Stroll The City Music Ethiopian Melodies
Californlan Theatre Playing the Eavesdropper Squatters' Quarrels Fate of my
Mare 272
CHAPTER XXVIL
fbe Overland Emigration of 1849 Its Character The Cholera on the Plains Suit
Lake City The Great Basin The Nevada Descent of the Mountains Apathy in
Peril The Cloae 281
CHAPTER XXVIH.
Fhe Italy of the West Steam on tbe Sacramento The Sunsets of California A
Company of Washmen A Voracious Donkey Attempt at Squatter Life. 2 g 2
CHAPTER XXIX.
Han Francisco four months Later Character of Business Life and Society UB-
fribomable Mud Streets and Men 30]
CONTENTS. Xlil
CHAPTER XXX.
Society In California The Transformation of the Emigran i -The Norsemen tte-
rlved The Energies of Society California Democracy 310
CHAPTER XXXL
LM ? i g San Francisco A German Crew and Chilian Schooner Weathering a South-
Easier The Fire on Shors We put back in Distress The Burnt District Stem-
ming a Flood Tide The Steamer Paso del Mar Down the Coast 315
CHAPTER XXXII.
Maiatlan A Chinese Boniface The Streets by Nijjht and Day The Atmosphere of
the Gnlf Preparations to leave Solemn Warnings. 326
CHAPTER XXXIIL
Travel in the Tlerra Caliente Tropical Winter A Lary Mnle Night at a Eanche
A u Carninador" Evening at a Posada Breakfast in El Rosario A Jolly Hostes*
Ride to I* Bayona The Palm and the Pine Indian Robbers Chat with the Na-
tives El Chncho The Ferry of Rio Santiago A Night of Horror 333
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The Ascent to the Table-Land My Friend and Caminador A Bargain The People
Tepic Sacred Mysteries at San Lionel The Massacre of the Innocents A Val-
ley Picture Crossing the Barranca 35
CHAPTER XXXV.
The Robber Region Meeting a Conduct* Tequila below Suspicions The Robbers
at Last Plundered and Bound My Liberation A Gibbet Scene The Kind Padre
of Guadalajara 3 62
CHAPTER XXXVI.
TY.re* Days in Guadalajara My Hosts An Unlucky Scotchman Financiering
Tb* Cabal Notoriety Movable Fortresses The Alameda Tropic Beauty by
Moonlight An Affectionate Farewell 373
CHAPTER XXX VIL
In the Diligence to Guanajuato Pleasant Travel The Cholera San Joan de tat
Lagos -Tb Valley of Leon An Enchanted Citv The Eve of a Robber's Death.. 3 8 3
XIV CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXVIIL
fhe IMridfog Ridge and Descent to the Valley of Mexico The Bajlo An Escort- A
G*y Padre Zuru ton's Hacienda The Pass of Capulalpan Mexico 393
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Scenes In the Mexican Capital Interior of the Cathedral Street Characters- -8in<k
ing in the Theatre Aztec Antiquities 399
CHAPTER XL.
Mexican Polities and Political Men The Halls of Congress Presentation of the
American Minister Herrera, his Government and Ministers 407
CHAPTER XLI.
Obapultepec and the Battle Fields The Panorama of the Valley 414
CHAPTER XLIL
The Base of Popoeatapetl Another View of the Valley The Pine Woods of Bio
Frio MaUncbe Popooatapetl and the Pyramid of Cholola Puebla at Night 422
CHAPTER XLIIL
eHmpsen of Purgatory and Paradise The Plains of Perot* The Rim of the Table-
Land Magnificent View Paradise Orizaba Mountain The Delights of Jalap*-
The Field of Cerro Gordo The Continent Crossed 43
CHAPTER XLTV.
..! Ouz and 8n Ju*n d'Uilia Homeward 44 1
ELDORADO.
CHAPTER I.
FROM NEW YORK TO CHAGRE8.
ON the 28th of June, 1849, I sailed from New York, in the
U. S. Mail steamship Falcon, bound for Chagres. About eight
months had elapsed since the tidings of an Eldorado in the West
reached the Atlantic shore. The first eager rush of adven-
turers was over, yet there was no cessation to the marvellous
reports, and thousands were only waiting a few further repetitions,
to join the hordes of emigration. The departure of a steamer
was still something of an incident. The piers and shipping were
crowded with spectators, and as the Falcon moved from her
moorings, many a cheer and shout of farewell followed her. The
glow and excitement of adventure seemed to animate even those
who remained behind, and as for our passengers, there was scarcely
ore who dii not feel himself more or less a hero. The deck rang
with songs, laughter and gaily-spoken anticipations of roving life
and untold treasure, till we began to feel the heavy swell rolling
inward from Sandy Hook. V
Rough weather set in with the night, and for a day or twc
we were all in the same state of torpid misery. Sea-sickness
next to Death, the greatest leveler could not, however, smootl
(Jown the striking contrasts of character exhibited among the pa*-
ELDORADO
sengers. Nothing less than a marvel like that of California
could have brought into juxtaposition so many opposite types of
human nature. We had an officer of the Navy, blunt, warm-
hearted and jovial ; a captain in the merchant service, intelligent
and sturdily-tempered ; Dovra-Easters, with sharp-set faces men
of the genuine stamp, who would be sure to fall on their feet
wherever they might be thrown ; quiet and sedate Spaniards ;
hilarious Germans ; and some others whose precise character was
more difficult to determine. Nothing was talked of but the land
to which we were bound, nothing read but Fremont's Expedition,
Emory's Report, or some work of Rocky Mountain travel.
After doubling Cape Hatteras, on the second day out, our mo
notonous life was varied by the discovery of a distant wreck.
Captain Hartstein instantly turned the Falcon's head towards her,
and after an hour's run we came up with her. The sea for some
distance around was strewed with barrels, fragments of bulwarks,
stanchions and broken spars. She was a schooner of a hundred
tons, lying on her beam ends and water-logged. Her mainmast
was gone, the foremast broken at the yard and the bowsprit,
snapped off and lying across her bows. The mass of spars and
rigging drifted by her side, surging drearily on the heavy sea
Not a soul was aboard, and we made many conjectures as to their
"ate.
We lay to off Charleston the fourth night, waiting for the mails,
which came on board in the morning with a few forlorn-looking
passengers, sick and weary with twenty-four hours' tossing on the
swells. In the afternoon we saw Tybee Lighthouse, through the
veil of a misty shower The sun set among the jagged piles of a
broken thunder-cloud, and ribbon-like streaks of lightning darted
all round the horizon. Our voyage now began to have a real in-
THE SHORES OF FLORIDA. 3
terest With the next sunrise, we saw the Lighthouse of St
Augustine and ran down the shores of Florida, inside the Guli
Stream, and close to the edges of the banks of coral. The pas-
flengers clustered on the bow, sitting with their feet hanging ovei
the guards, and talking of Ponce de Leon, De Soto, and the earlj
Spanish adventurers. It was unanimously voted that the present
days were as wonderful as those, and each individual emigrant en-
titled to equal credit for darins and enterprise. I found it delighful
to sit all day loaning over the rails, watching the play of flying-fish
the floating of purple nautili on the water, or looking off to the
level line of the shore. Behind a beach of white sand, half a mile
in breadth and bordered by dense thickets, rise the interminablo
forests of live oak, mangrove and cypress. The monotony of this
long extent of coast is only broken by an occasional lagoon, where
the deep green of the woods comes down upon the lighter green
of the coral shoals, or by the huts of wreckers and their trim,
duck-like crafts, lying in the offings. The temperature was deli
cious, with a lighf, cloudy sky, and a breeze as soft and balmy a
that of our northern May. The afternoons commenced with a
heavy thunder-shower, after which the wind came fresh from the
land, bringing us a rank vegetable odor from the cypress swamps
On the morning of July 5th, I took a station on the wheel-
house, to look out for Cuba. We had left Florida in the night,
and the waves of the Gulf were around us The sun, wheeling
near the zenith, burned fiercely on the water. I glowed at my
post, but not with his beam. I had reached the flaming bonn
dary of the Tropics, and felt that the veil was lifting from an
Unknown world. The far rim of the horizon seemed as if it would
never break into an uneven line. At last, towards noon, flapt
ITartstein handed me the ship's glass. T swept the southern dis-
4 ELDORADC.
fcance, and discerned a single blue, conical peak rising from tnt
iroter the well-known Pan of Matanzas. As we drew nearer,
the Iron Mountains a rugged chain in the interior rose, then the
green hills along the coast, and finally the white beach and bluffs,
the coral reefs and breakers. The shores were buried in vege-
tation. The fields of young sugar-cane ran along the slopes;
palms waved from the hill-tops, and the country houses of plant-
ers lay deep in the valleys, nestling in orange groves. I drank in
the land-wind a combination of all tropical perfumes in one full
breath of cool air with an enjoyment verging on intoxication,
while, point beyond point, we followed the enchanting coast.
We ran under the battlements of the Moro at six o'clock, and
turning abruptly round the bluff of dark rock on which it is built,
the magnificent harbor opened inland before us. To the right lay
the city, with its terraced houses of all light and brilliant colors,
its spacious public buildings, spires, and the quaint, half-oriental
pile of its cathedral, in whose chancel repose the ashes of Christo-
pher Columbus. The immense fortress of the Moro ci owned the
height on our left, the feathery heads of palm-trees peering above
its massive, cream -colored walls. A part of the garrison were going
through their evening exercises on the beach. Numberless boata
skimmed about on the water, and a flat ferry-steamer, painted
green and yellow, was on its way to the suburb of Regoles.
Around the land-locked harbor, two miles in width, rose green
hills, dotted with the country palaces of the nobility. Over all
this charming view glowed the bright hues of a southern sunset.
On account of the cholera at New York, we wore ordered up
to the Quarantine ground and anchored beside the Lulk of an old
frigate, filled with yellow-fever patients. The Health Officers
received the mail and ship's papnrs at the end of a long pole, and
NIGHT IN HAVANA HARBOR. 5
dipped them in a bucket of vinegar. The boats which brought
us water and vegetables were attended by Cuban soldiers, in white
uniform, who guarded against all contact with us. Half-naked
slaves, with the broad, coarse features of the natives of Cocgo.,
worked at the punip, but even they suffered the rope-end or plan)
which had touched our vessel, to drop in the water before they
handled it. After sunset, the yellow-fever dead were buried and
the bell of a cemetery on shore tolled mournfully at intervals.
The steamer Isabel, and other American ships, were anchored
beside us, and a lively conversation between the crews broke the
stillness of the tropical moonlight resting on the water. Now
and then they struck into songs, one taking up a new strain as
the other ceased in the style of the Venetian gondoliers, but
with a different effect. " Tasso's echoes" are another thing from
"the floating scow of old Virginny." The lights of the city
gleamed at a distance, and over them the flaming beacon of the
Moro. Tall palms were dimly seen on the nearer hills, and the
damp night-air came heavy with the scent of cane-fields, orange
groves and flowers.
A voyage across the Gulf is the perfection of sea-traveling.
After a detention of eighteen hours at Havana, we ran under the
frowning walls of the Moro, out on its sheet of brilliant blue wa-
ter, specked with white-caps that leaped to a fresh north-easter.
The waves are brighter, the sky softer and purer, the sunsets
more mellow than on the Atlantic, and the heat, though ranging
from 88 to 95 IE the shade, is tempered by a steady and de-
Ucious breeze.
Before catching sight of land, our approach to the Mississippi
was betrayed by the water. Changing to a deep, then a muddy
green, which, even fifteen or twenty miles from shore, rolls its
6 ELDORADO
stratum of fresh water over the bed of denser brine, it needed no
soundings to tell of land ahead. The light on the South Pass
was on our starboard at dusk. The arm of the river we entered
seemed so wide in the uncertain light, that, considering it as ono
of five, my imagination expanded in contemplating the size of the
single flood, bearing in its turbid waves the snows of mountains
that look on Oregon, the ice of lakes in Northern Minesota and
the crystal springs that for a thousand miles gush from the west-
ern slope of the Alleghanies. When morning came, my excited
fancies seemed completely at fault. I could scarcely recognize
the Father of Waters in the tortuous current of brown soap-suds,
a mile in width, flowing between forests of willow and cypress on
one side and swamps that stretched to the horizon on the other.
Everything exhibited the rank growth and speedy decay of tropi
cal vegetation The river was filled with floating logs, which
were drifted all along the shore. The trees, especially the
cypress, were shrouded in gray moss, that hung in long streamers
from the branches, and at intervals the fallen thatch of some de-
serted cabin was pushed from its place by shrubbery and wild
vines.
Near the city, the shores present a rich and cultivated aspect
The land is perfectly flat, but the forest recedes, and broad fields
of sugar cane and maize in ear come down to the narrow levee
which protects them from the flood. The houses of the planters
low, balconied and cool, are buried among orange trees, acacias
and the pink blossoms of the crape myrtle The slave-hut,^ ad
joining, in parallel rows, have sometimes small gardens attached
but are rarely shaded by trees.
I found New Orleans remarkably dull and hoalthy. The cit}
ffas enjoying an interregnum between the det>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<we heaJ had been shaved and his
cars cut off, after receiving one hundred lashes, for stealing ninety-
oighl 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 agains!
the most frightful disorder. The result was that, except some pettj
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 a*
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 rhui
toxicodendron, which is very common in California. His impa-
tience to reach San Francisco waa so great that on Saturday after-
coon we got ready to return to Stockton. Our bill at the hote<
K-as $ 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 ex-
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.
CHAPTER X.
A GALLOP TO STOCKTON, WITH SOME WORDS ON LAW AND
SOCIETY.
INSTEAD of retracing our steps through the fiery depth of the
canon, we turned off eastward through a gap in the hills and toot
a road leading to the Double Spring. The doctor insisted on my
mounting behind him on the limping horse, and we had an odd
ride of it, among the dusky glens and hollows. At the Double
Spring, where a large tent was pitched, throe of us were furnished
with supper, at a cost of $11 not an exorbitant price, if our ap-
petites were considered. It was decided to push on the same
night to another ranche, seven miles distant, and I started in ad-
vance, on foot. The road passed between low hills, covered with
patches of chapparal, the usual haunt of grizzly bears. I looked
sharply at every bush, in the dim moonlight ; my apprehensions
were a little raised by the thought of a miner whom I had seen one
evening come down to the Mokelumne, pale as a sheet, after hav-
ing been chased some distance by a huge she-bear, and by the
Btcry told me at the Double Spring, of the bones of two men
picked clean, having been found on the road I was traveling. I
was not sorry, therefore, to hear the halting tramp of the doctor's
horse behind me ; the others came up after awhile, and we
APPROPRIATING A HORSE. 95
reached the tent The landlord lay asleep in one corner ; w
tied our animals to a tree, made one bed in common against thf
side of the tent, and were soon locked in sound repose.
Lieut. Beale, who was still unweJ and anxious to hurry on,
woke us at the peep of day, and after giving a spare feed to oui
mules, we took the road again. As the doctor and I, mounted on
the lame horse, were shuffling along in advance, we espied a ven-
erable old animal before us, walking in the same direction. The
doctor slipped off the bridle, ran forward and caught him without
any difficulty. There was no sign of any camp to be seen, and
we came to the conclusion that the horse was an estray, and we
might therefore lawfully make use of him. He was the most gro
tesque specimen of horseflesh I ever saw lame like our own
and with his forehead broken in above the eyes, which did noi
prevent his having a nose of most extraordinary length and pro-
minence. The doctor bridled him and mounted, leaving me hi/*
own horse and saddle, so that we were about equally provided.
By dint of shouting and kicking we kept the beasts in a sort of
shambling gallop till we reached Eaney's Ranche, where the doctor
took the precaution of removing the bridle and letting the horse
stand loose ; the custom of the miners being, to shoot a man who
puts his gear on your horse and rides him without leave.
As it happened, the precaution was not ill-timed ; for, whil
we lay inside the tent on a couple of benches, we heard &n ex
oiaination from some one outside. " There you are !" said th<
voice ; " what do you mean, you old rascal how came you here
you know you never left me before, you know you did n^t !"
Then, turning to the tent-keeper, who was standing by the cook-
ing-fire, he enquired : " how did that horse get here r" " Why,'
answered the former, with a slight variation of the truth, ' he wat
96 CLUOKADO.
driven in this morning by some men who found him Ji the road,
about three miles from here. The men have gone on to Stockton,
but left him, thinking he might have an owner somewhere, though
he ion't look like it." " Three miles !" ejaculated the voice :
4> 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 aa<J
the Andalusian plains. With good mule-trains and experienced
packers, the business yielded as much as the richest diggings
The placers and gulches of Mokelumne as well as Murphy's Dig
gings and those on Carson's Creek, are within fifty-five miles oi
Stockton ; the richest diggings on the Stanislaus about sixty,
and on the Tuolumne seventy. The price paid for carrying to
all the nearer diggings averaged 30 cents per Ib. during the sum-
raer. A mule-load varies from one to two hundred Ibs., but the
experienced carrier could generally reckon beforehand the expenses
and profits of his trip. The intense heat of the season and the
dust of the plains tended also to wear out a team, and the carriers
were often obliged to rest and recruit themselves. One of them,
who did a good business between Stockton and the Lower Bar of
the Mokelumne, told me that his profits were about $3,000 monthly.
I found Stockton more bustling and prosperous than ever. The
limits of its canvas streets had greatly enlarged during my week
of absence, and the crowd on the levee would not disgrace a much
larger place at home. Launches were arriving and departing
dauy for and from San Francisco, and the number of mule-trains,
wagons, etc., on their way to the various mines with freight and
Bnpplies kept up a life of activity truly amazing. Stockton was
fret laid out by Mr. Weaver, who emigrated to the country seven
years before, and obtained a grant of eleven square leagues from
the Government, on condition that he would obtain settlers for the
whole of it within a specified time Ir planningthe town of Stockton,
A FLOGGING SCENE IN STOCKTON 99
lie displayed a great deal of shrewd business tact, the sale of lots
aaving brought him upwards of $500,000. A great disadvantage
of the location is the sloughs by which it is surrounded ; which, in
the wet season, render the roads next to impassable. There
seems, however, to be no other central point so well adapted fof
supplying the rich district between the Mokelumne and Tuolumne,
and Stockton will evidently continue to grow with a sure and
gradual growth.
I witnessed, while in the town, a summary exhibition of justice.
The night before my arrival, three negroes, while on a drunken
revel, entered the tent of a Chilian, and attempted to violate a
female who was within. Defeated in their base designs by her
husband, who was fortunately within call, they fired their pistols at
the tent and left. Complaint was made before the Alcalde, twc
of the negroes seized and identified, witnesses examined, a jury
summoned, and verdict given, without delay. The principal of-
fender was sentenced to receive fifty lashes and the other twenty
both to leave the place within forty-eight hours under pain of
death. The sentence was immediately carried into execution ,
the negroes were stripped, tied to a tree standing in the middle
of the principal street, and in presence of the Alcalde and Sherifl
received their punishment. There was little of that order and
respect shown which should accompany even the administration of
Impromptu law ; the bystanders jeered, laughed, and accompanied
avery blow with coarse and unfeeling remarks. Some of the more
intelligent professed themselves opposed to the mode of punish-
ment, but in the absence of prisons or effective guards could sug-
gest no alternative, except the sterner one of capital punishment.
The history of law and society in California, from the period of
the golden discoveries, would furnish many instructive lessons to
100 ELDORADO.
the philosopher and the statesman. The first consequence of the
unprecedented rush of emigration from all parts of the world into
a country almost unknown, and but half reclaimed from its origi-
nal barbarism was to render all law virtually null, and bring the
established authorities to depend entirely on the humor of tho
population for the observance of their orders. The countries
which were nearest the golden coast Mexico, Peru, Chili, China
and the Sandwich Islands sent forth their thousands of ignorant
adventurers, who speedily outnumbered the American population.
Another fact, which none the less threatened serious consequen-
ces, was the readiness with which the worthless and depraved class
of our own country came to the Pacific Coast. From the begin-
ning, a state of things little short of anarchy might have been
reasonably awaited.
Instead of this, a disposition to maintain order and secure th
rights of all, was shown throughout the mining districts. In the ab
sence of all law or available protection, the people met and adopted
rules for their mutual security rules adapted to their situation
where they had neither guards nor prisons, and where the slightest
license given to crime or trespass of any kind must inevitably hav<
led to terrible disorders. Small thefts were punished by banish-
ment from the placers, while for those of large amount or for
more serious crimes, there was the single alternative of hanging.
These regulations, with slight change, had been continued up to
the time of my visit to the country. In proportion as the emigra-
tion from our own States increased, and the digging community
assumed a more orderly and intelligent aspect, their severity had
been relaxed, though punishment was still strictly administered
for all offences. There had been, as nearly as I could learn, not
more than twelve or fifteen executions in all, about half of which
LAW AND ORDER. 101
were inflicted for the crime of murder. This awful responsibility
had not been assumed lightly, but after a fair trial and a full and
clear conviction, to which was added, I believe in every instance,
the confession of the criminal.
In all the large digging districts, which had been worked for
8>me 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 wool<f
sign no Constitution, embodying such a provision. In the midsi
of this tumult the House adjourned. The defeated party weie
active throughout, and procured a second reconsideration. Major
Hill, delegate from San Diego, then proposed the following boun
dary : a line starting from the Mexican Boundary and following
the course of the Colorado to lat. 35 N., thence due north to the
Oregon Boundary. Such a line, according to the opinion of both
Capt. Sutter and Gen. Vallejo, was the limit set by the Mexican
Government to the civil jurisdiction of California. It divides the
Great Central Basin about two-thirds of the distance between the
Sierra Nevada and the Great Salt Lake. This proposition was
adopted, but fell through on second reading, when the boundary
which had first passed was readopted by a large vote. When il
came to be designated on the map, most of the members were
better satisfied than they had anticipated. They had a State with
eight hundred miles of sea-coast and an average of two hundred
and fifty miles in breadth, including both sides of the Sierra Ne-
vada and some of the best rivers of the Great Basin. As to the
question of Slavery, it will never occasion much trouble. The
whole Central Region, extending to the Sierra Madre of New
Mexico, will never sustain a slave population. The greater part
of it resembles in climate and general features the mountain
steppes of Tartary, and is better adapted for grazing than agricul-
ture. It will never be settled so long as an acre of the rich loam
of Oregon or the warm wheat-plains of California is left inten-
inted.
One of the subjects that came up about this time was the de-
rign of a Great Seal for the State. There were plenty of ideas in
the heads of the members, but few draughtsmen, and of the eighi
tHE GREAT SEAL OF THE STATE. 164
or ten designs presented, some were ludicrous enough. The
choice finally fell upon one drawn by Major Garnett which was,
in reality, the best offered. The principal figure is Minerva, with
her spoar and Gorgon shield, typical of the manner in which
California was born, full-grown, into the Confederacy. At hsi
feet crouches a grizzly bear, certainly no very appropriate sup-
porter for the Gorgon shield. The wheat-sheaf and vine before
him illustrate the principal agricultural products of the country,
and are in good keeping for Ceres sat beside Minerva in the
councils of the gods. Near at hand is a miner with his imple-
ments, in the distance the Bay of San Francisco, and still fur-
ther the Sierra Nevada, over which appears the single word :
u EUREKA !"
The discussion on the subject was most amusing. None of the
designs seemed at first to tally with the taste of the Convention,
as each district was anxious to be particularly represented. The
Sacramento members wanted the gold mines ; the San Francisco
members wanted the harbor and shipping ; the Sonoma members
*
thought no seal could be lawful without some reminder of their
*iuted " bear flag ;" while the Los Angeles and San Diego members
were clamorous for the rights of their vines, olives and wild horses
so that, no doubt, the seal they chose was the most satisfactory
to all. The sum of $1,000 was voted to Mr. Lyon, one of the
Secretaries, for the purpose of having it engraved. The Conven-
tion also voted the sum of $10,000 to Mr. J Ross Browne, ite
reporter, on his contracting to furnish one thousand printed
copies of the entire proceedings in English and three hundred in
Spanish. This sum also included the remuneration for his labors
is a stenographer.
Aftei discussing various plans for meeting the expenses of the
i66 ELDORADO.
8tate, at the outset, an ordinance was adopted, (sulject to the
action of Congress,) the substance of which was as follows :
1. One section out of every quarter township of the public landa
shall be granted to the State for the use of the schools. 2. Sev-
enty-two sections of unappropriated land within the State shall be
granted to the State for the establishment and support of a Uni-
versity. 3. Four sections, selected under direction of the Legisla-
ture, shall be granted for the use of the State in establishing a
Seat of Government and erecting buildings. 4. Five hundred
thousand acres of public lands, in addition to the same amount
granted to new States, shall be granted for the purpose of defray-
ing the expenses of the State Government. And five per cent, of
the proceeds of the sale of public lands, after deducting expenses,
shall be given for the encouragement of learning. 5. All salt
springs, with the land adjoining, shall be granted to the use of the
State.
It may probably be thought, on reading these various provisions
for the filling of the State Treasury, that the appetite for gold
must surely grow by what it feeds on. California, nevertheless,
bad some reason for making so many exacting demands. The
3xpenses of the Government, at the start, will necessarily be enor-
mous ; and the price of labor so far exceeds the value of real
estate, that the ordinary tax on property would scarcely be a drop
in the bucket. The cost of erecting buildings and supporting the
various branches of government will greatly surpass that to which
any state has ever been subjected. In paying the expenses of the
Convention from the Civil Fund, Gov. Riley in many instances
took upon himself weighty responsibilities ; but the circumstances
inder which he acted were entirely without precedent. His
course was marked throughout by great prudence and good sense
DISTINGUISHED CALIFORNIANS. 15*}
Towaids the close of the Convention, those of the memben
who aspired to still further honor, commenced caucusing and
Mie canvassing of influence for the coming election. Several
announced themselves as candidates for various offices, and
in spite of vehement disclaimers to the contrary the lines of old
parties were secretly drawn. Nevertheless, it is impossible at
present to pronounce correctly on the political character of the
State ; it will take some time for the native Californians to he
drilled into the new harness, and I suspect they will frequentlj
bold the balance of power.
One of the most intelligent and influential of the Californians is
Gen. Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo, whom I had the pleasure of
meeting several times during my stay in Monterey. As Military
Commandant, during the Governorship of Alvarado, he exercised
almost supreme sway over the country. He is a man of forty-five
years of age, tall and of a commanding presence ; his head is large,
forehead high and ample, and eyes dark, with a grave, dignified
expression. He is better acquainted with our institutions and
laws than any other native Californian.
Among the other notable members were Covarrubias, formerly
Secretary of Government, and Jose Antonio Carrillo, the right-
hand man of Pio Pico. The latter is upward of fifty-five years
of age a small man with frizzled hah* and beard, gray eyes, and
a face strongly expressive of shrewdness and mistrust. I saw
him, one day, dining at a restaurant with Gen. Castro the
redoubtable leader of the Californian troops, in Upper and Lower
California. Castro is a man of medium height, but stoutly and
strongly made. He has a very handsome face ; his eyes are large
and dark, and his mouth is shaded by moustaches with the glosa
and color of a raven's wing, meeting; on each side with hfe whis-
158 ELDORADO.
kers He wore the sombrero, jacket and calzoneros of the coun-
try. His temperament, as I thought, seemed gloomy and satur-
nine, and I was gravely informed by a Californian who sat oppo-
site me, that he meditated the reconquest of the country !
Capt. Sutter's appearance and manners quite agreed with mj
preconceived ideas of him. He is still the hale, blue-eyed, jovial
German short and stout of stature, with broad forehead, head
bald to the crown, and altogether a ruddy, good-humored expres-
sion of countenance. He is a man of good intellect, excellent
common sense and amiable qualities of heart. A little mor
activity and enterprise might have made him the first man u
California, in point of wealth and influence.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE CLOSING SCENES OF THE CONVENTION.
THE day and night immediately preceding the dissolution
of the Convention far exceeded in interest all the former
period of its existence. I know not how I can better describe
the closing scenes than by the account which I penned on
the spot, at the time :
The Convention yesterday ("October 12) gave token of bringing
its labors to a close ; the morning session was short and devoted
only to the passing of various miscellaneous provisions, after which
an adjournment was made until this morning, on account of the
Ball given by the Convention to the citizens of Monterey. The
members, by a contribution of $25 each, raised the sum of $1,100
to provide for the entertainment, which was got up in return for
that given by the citizens about four weeks since.
The Hall was cleared of the forum and tables and decorated
with young pines from the forest. At each end were the American
colors, tastefully disposed across the boughs. Three chandeliers,
neither of bronze nor cut-glass, but neat and brilliant withal,
poured their light on the festivities. At eight o'clock the
fash: jnable ball-hour in Monterey the guests began to assemble,
and in an hour afterward the Hall was crowded with nearly all th
(60 ELDORADO.
Califorman and American residents. There were sixty or seventy
ladies present, and an equal number of gentlemen, in addition to
the members of the Convention. The dark-eyed daughters of
Monterey, Los Angeles and Santa Barbara mingled in pleasing
contrast with the fairer bloom of the trans-Nevadian belles. The
variety of feature and complexion was fully equalled by the variety
of dress. In the whirl of the waltz, a plain, dark, nun-like robe
would be followed by one of pink satin and gauze ; next, perhaps
a bodice of scarlet velvet with gold buttons, and then a rich
figured brocade, such as one sees on the stately dames of Titian.
The dresses of the gentlemen showed considerable variety, bui
were much less picturesque. A complete ball-dress was a happi-
ness attained only by the fortunate few. White kids could not be
had in Monterey for love or money and as much as $50 was paid
by one gentleman for a pair of patent-leather boots. Scarcely a
single drees that was seen belonged entirely to its wearer, and I
thought, if the clothes had power to leap severally back to their
respective owners, some persons would have been in a state oi
utter destitution. For my part, I was indebted for pantaloons and
vest to obliging friends. The only specimen of the former article
which I could get, belonged to an officer whose weight was consi-
derably more than two hundred, but I managed to accommodate
them to my proportions by a liberal use of pins, notwithstanding
the difference of size. Thus equipped, with a buff military vest,
and worsted gaiters with very square toes, I took my way to tte
Uafl in company with Major Smith and his brother.
The appearance of the company, nevertheless, was genteel anl
respectable, and perhaps the genial, unrestrained social spirit that
possessed all present would have been less had there been more
uniformity of costume. Gen. Riley was there in full uniform,
A BALL-ROOM PICTURE. 161
with the yellow sash he won at Contreras ; Majors Canby, Hill and
Smith. Captains Burton and Kane, and the other officers stationed
in Monterey, accompanying him. In one group might be seen
Capt. Sutler's soldierly moustache and clear blue eye ; in another,
the erect figure and quiet, dignified bearing of Gen. Vallejo. Don
Pablo de la Guerra, with his handsome, aristocratic features, waa
the floor manager, and gallantly discharged his office. Conspicuous
among the native members were Don Miguel de Pedrorena and
Jacinto Rodriguez, both polished gentlemen and deservedly popu-
lar. Dominguez, the Indian member, took no part in the dance,
but evidently enjoyed the scene as much as any one present. The
most interesting figure to me was that of Padre Ramirez, who, in
his clerical cassock, looked on until a late hour. If the strongest
advocate of priestly gravity and decorum had been present, he
could not have found in his heart to grudge the good old padre the
pleasure that beamed upon his honest countenance.
The band consisted of two violins and two guitars, whose music
made up in spirit what it lacked in skill. They played, as it
seemed to me, but three pieces alternately, for waltz, contra-dance
and quadrille. The latter dance was evidently an unfamiliar one,
for once or twice the music ceased in the middle of a figure. Each
tune ended with a funny little squeak, something like the whistle
of the octave flute in Robert h Diable. The players, however,
worked incessantly, and deserved good wages for their performance.
The etiquette of the dance was marked by that grave, statel)
courtesy, which has been handed down from the old Spanish times
The gentlemen invariably gave the ladies their hands to lead them
to their places on the floor ; in the pauses of the dance both parties
stood motionless side by side, and at its conclusion the lady wai
bravely led back to her seat.
162 ELDORADO.
At twelve o'clock supper was announced. The Court-Room
in the lower story had been fitted up for this purpose, and, as it
was not large enough to admit all the guests, the ladies were first
conducted thither and waited upon by a select committee, Tha
refreshments consisted of turkey, roast pig, beef, tongue and pate's
with wines and liquors of various sorts, and coffee. A large supply
had been provided, but after everybody was served, there was not
much remaining. The ladies began to leave about two o'clock,
but when I came away, an hour later, the dance was still going on
with spirit.
The members met this morning at the usual hour, to perform
the last duty that remained to them that of signing the Consti-
tution. They were all in the happiest humor, and the morning
was so bright and balmy that no one seemed disposed to call an
organization. Mr. Semple was sick, and Mr. Steuart, of San
Francisco, therefore called the meeting to order by moving Capt
Butter's appointment in his place. The Chair was taken by the
old pioneer, and the members took their seats around the sides of
the hall, which still retained the pine-trees and banners, left from
last night's decorations. The windows and doors were open, and
a delightful breeze came in from the Bay, whose blue waters
sparkled in the distance. The view from the balcony in front was
bright and inspiring. The town below the shipping in the har-
bor the pine-covered hills behind were mellowed by the blue
October haze, but there was no cloud in the sky, and I could
plainly see, on the northern horizon, the mountains of Santa Crui
and the Sierra de Gavilan.
After the minutes had been read, the Committee appointed to
draw up an Address to the People of California was called upon
to report, and Mr. Steuart, Chainr.an, read the Address. Its tone
SIGNING THE CONSTITUTION. lt>3
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<?j
and four of the sportsmen set out by moonlight. They found
some difficulty, however, in fishing out the geese after they werf
A SIROCCO IN SAN JOSfe. 199
hot, and only brought two with them at midnight. I, who waa
fatigued with my management of the Snake horse, crept into a
cart-bed near the Ranche, laid a raw-hide over the top and ww
loon floating adrift on a sea of dreams.
We had harnessed and were off before the daybreak brighteae^
into sunri'v. As we passed the last mountain headland and the
mouth of the valley lay wide before us, I noticed a dun vapor over
the place where the Pueblo San Jose should stand. The reason
of this was explained when we reached the entrance of the town.
W^e were met by a hurricane of dust which for several minutes
prevented our advancing a step ; the adobe houses on each side
were completely hidden, and we could only breathe by covering
our faces with the loose folds of our jackets. Some wind intended
for San Francisco had got astray among the mountains, and com-
ing on San Jose unawares, had put in motion all the dust that had
been quietly accumulating during the summer.
The two weeks which had elapsed since San Jose had been
made a capital, were sufficient to have created a wonderful change
What with tents and houses of wood and canvas, in hot haste
thrown up, the town seemed to have doubled in size. The dusty
streets were thronged with people ; goods, for lack of storage
room, stood in large piles beside the loors ; the sound of saw and
hammer, and the rattling of laden carts, were incessant. The
Legislative Building a two-story adobe house built at the town's
expense was nearly finished. Hotels were springing up in all
(juarters ; French restaurateurs hung out their signs on little one-
Btory shanties ; the shrewd Celestials had already planted them-
selves there, and summoned men to meals by the sound of their
barbaric gongs. Our old stopping-place, the " Miner's Home,"
was converted into a " City Hrtel," and when we drew up before
200 ELDORADO.
the door, we were instantly surrounded by purveyors from rival
establishments, offering to purchase the two wild geese which
hung at the wagon-tail. The roads to Monterey, to Stockton, tc
San Fiancisco, and to the Embarcadero, were stirring with con-
tinual travel. The price of lots had nearly doubled in consequence
of this change, so that the town lost nothing by its gift of the
legislative building to Government.
The ambulance, carrying Mr. Semple, set out for Benicia along
the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay. Those of us who were
bound for San Francisco made search for other conveyances.
Hearing that a launch was about starting, I walked down to tho
Embarcadero, about seven miles distant, where I found a dozen
vessels anchored in an estuary which ran up among the tule.
One of them was to leave that night at ten o'clock ; the fare was
$10, and the time dependent on the wind, but usually varying from
two to four days. I gave up the chance at once, and retracing
my steps to the nearest ford, crossed Coyote River and struck
across the meadows towards Whisman's Ranche, which I reached
after two hours' walk. Evening came on while I was journeying
alone in the midst of the boundless landscape boundless, but for
the shadowy mountain-piles which lay along the horizon, seeming,
through the haze, like the hills of another planet which had
touched the skirts of the globe on its journey through space.
Long lines of geese and brant sailed through the air, and the white
crane, from his covert on the edge of the marsh, uttered at inter-
vals his strong, guttural cry. As the sunset gathered to a blaze,
fche mountains across the bay were suffused with a rosy purple
tint, while those against the western sky stood in deep violel
shadow. At last, the sounds of animal life died away on the plain,
and tho stars were gradually kindled in the cloudless firmament
WIGHT-CAMP UNDER THE OAKS. 20j
By this lime I had approached a fine old grove, detached from
the shore of timber. The sound of musket shots and the braying
of mules told that a party had encamped there. No sooner had
I reached the shadow of the trees than my name was shouted, and I
lecognized Major Hill and my other friends of his party. I threw
down my sarape, took a seat among them and employed myself
on the breast of a goose. We sat cross-legged around a glowing
fire, passing the pans and cups from hand to hand, and using
fingers or knives according to the toughness of the meat. The
mules were picketed among the oats which grew knee-deep under
the trees, and a few paces off, around a still larger fire, the sailors
and teamsters brewed their bucket of tea and broiled their huge
slices of beef. Our meal over, we lighted our puros and stretched
out at full length on the grass, enjoying to the full the quiet of the
place and the soothing influence of the weed. And then cam?
rest rest delicious anywhere, but doubly so under the broad armi
of the evergreen oak, with the full clear flood of moonlight broken
into a thousand minute streams on the turf. It was a long time
before I could compose myself to sleep. The solemn repose of
the grove the deep shadows of the trees the far, misty, silvery
glimpses of plain through the openings wrought powerfully on
my imagination and kept every faculty keenly alive. Even in
sleep the impression remained, and when I awoke in the night, it
was with a happy thrill at opening my eyes on the same maze of
moonlight and foliage.
The next day I accompanied the party on foot, taking an oc-
casional lift with the sailors in the wagon. The jolly tars were not
&t home on dry land, and seemed impatient to ste the end of the
journey. The driver was enjoined to keep a good look-out from
the fore-top (the saddle-mule.) "Breakers ahead!" shouted
9
702 ELDORADO.
Jack, when we came to an arroyo ; " hard up !" was the answer
'* Take a reef in the aft wheel !" was the order of the driver
The lock was clapped on, and we rode in triumph into a smoother
sea. We nooned at Sanchez' Ranche, reached the Mission Dolores
at dusk, and started over the sand-hills in the moonlight. The
jaded team stalled at the foot of a steep hill hut was afterwards
got off by unloading the wagon. I pushed on ahead, hearing the
bustle and mingled sounds of the town, long before I reached it
I struck the suburbs half a mile sooner than on my previous re-
turn, and from the first rise in the sand had an indistinct view of
a place twice as large as I had left. I was too weary, however tc
take a long survey, but went directly to the Post Office, where I
found Mr. Moore and his sons as cheerful, active and enterprising
as ever, and was again installed in a comfortable nook of the
garret.
CHAPTER XX,
SAN FRANCISCO AGAIN POST-OFFICE EXPERIENCES.
DURING my absence in Monterey, more than four thousand emi
grants by sea had landed in San Francisco. The excitement
relative to gold-digging had been kept up by new discoveries on
the various rivers ; the rage for land speculation had increased ,
and to all this was added the gathering heat of political conflict.
San Francisco was something of a whirlpool before, but now it had
widened its sweeps and seemed to be drawing everything into its
vortex
The morning after I arrived, I went about the town to note tlu
changes and improvements. I could scarcely believe my eyes
The northern point, where the Bay pours its waters into tht
Golden Gate, was covered with houses nearly to the summit
siany of them large three-story warehouses. The central and
highest hill on which the town is built, was shorn of its chapparal
and studded with tents and dwellings ; while to the eastward
the streets had passed over the last of the three hills, and were
beginning to encroach on the Happy Valley. The beautiful
crescent of the harbor, stretching from the Rincon to Fort Mont-
gomery, a distance of more than a mile, was lined with boate,
tents and warehouses, and near the latter point, several pier; jut-
ted into the water. Montgomery street, fronting the Bay, had
904 ELDORADO.
undergone a marvellous change. All the open spaces were built
up, the canvas houses replaced by ample three-story buildings, an
Exchange with lofty sky-light fronted the water, and for the space
of half a mile the throng of men of all classes, characters and na-
tions, with carts and animals, equaled Wall street before three
o'clock.
In other parts of the town the change was equally great. Tenta
and canvas houses had given place to large and handsome edifices,
blanks had been filled up, new hotels opened, market houses in
operation and all the characteristics of a great commercial city
fairly established. Portsmouth Square was filled with lumber
and house frames, and nearly every street in the lower part of the
city was blocked up with goods. The change which had been
wrought in all parts of the town during the past six weeks seemed
little short of magic. At first I had difficulty in believing that
what I looked upon was real, so utterly inadequate seemed the
visible means for the accomplishment of such wonderful ends.
On my way to call upon Col. Fremont, whom I found located
with his family in the Happy Valley, I saw a company of Chinese
carpenters putting up the frame of a Canton-made house. In
Pacific street another Celestial restaurant had been opened, and
every vessel from the Chinese ports brought a fresh importation
An Olympic circus, on a very handsome scale, had been estab-
lished, and a company of Ethiopian serenaderg nightly amused
the public. " Delmonico's" was the fashionable eating-house,
where you had boiled eggs at seventy-five cents each, and dinner
at $1 50 to $5, according to your appetite. A little muslin
ehed rejoiced in the title of " Irving House " A number of fine
billiard rooms and bowling alleys had been opened, and all othei
devices for spending money brought into successful operation
*IORE STATISTICS OP GROWTH. 205
The gamblers complained no longer of dull prospects ; there wer%
hundreds of monte, roulette and faro tables, which were crowded
nightly until a late hour, and where the most inveterate excesses
of gaming might be witnessed. The rents of houses had increase d
rather than fallen. I might give hundreds of instances, but it
would be only a repetition of the stories I have already told
Money brought fourteen per cent, monthly, on loan. A gentle-
man of Baltimore, who came out hi the Panama, sold for $15,000
a steam engine which cost him $2,000. Some drawing paper,
which cost about $10 in New York, brought $164. I found
little change in the prices of provisions and merchandise, though
the sum paid for labor had diminished. Town lots were continu-
ally on the rise ; fifty vara lots in the Happy Valley, half a mile
from town, brought $3,500. I met with a number of my fellow
passengers, nearly all of whom had done well, some of them hav-
ing already realized $20,000 and $30,000.
The population of San Francisco at that tune, was estimated at
fifteen thousand ; a year before it was about five hundred. The
increase since that time had been made hi the face of the greatest
disadvantages under which a city ever labored ; an uncultivated
country, an ungenial climate, exorbitant rates of labor, want of
building materials, imperfect civil organization lacking every-
thing, in short, but gold dust and enterprise. The same expense,
on the Atlantic coast, would have established a city of a hundred
thousand inhabitants. The price of lumber was still $300 to
$400 per thousand feet. In addition to the five saw-mills at
Santa Cruz, all the mills of Oregon were kept going, lumber, even
there, bringing $100 per thousand. There was no end to the
springs of labor and traffic, which that vast emigration to Call-
206 ELDOfcAfcO
fornia had set in motion, not only on the Pacific Coast, but through'
out all Polynesia and Australia.
The activity throughout the mining region during the fall sea-
ion, gave rise to a thousand reports of golden discoveries, the
effect of which was instantly seen on the new-comers. Theii
highest anticipations of the country seemed realized at once, and
their only embarrassment was the choice of so many places of
promise. The stories told were marvellous even to Californians i
what wonder, then, that the green emigrants, who devoutly swal-
lowed them whole, should be disappointed and disgusted with tho
reality ? The actual yield on most of the rivers was, neverthe-
less, sufficiently encouraging. The diggers on the forks of the
American, Feather and Yuba Rivers, met with a steady return
for their labors. On the branches of the San Joaquin, as far as
the Tuolumne, the big lumps were still found. Capt. Walker,
who had a company on the Pitiuna a stream that flows into the
Tulare Lakes was in Monterey, buying supplies at the time 1
left. His company was alone in that desolate region, and working
to advantage, if one might judge from the secrecy which attended
their movements. The placers on Trinity River had not turned
out so well as was expected, and many of the miners were
returning disappointed to the Sacramento. Several companies
had been absent among the higher ridges of the Sierra Nevada, for
n month or more, and it was suspected that they had discovered
diggings somewhere on the eastern side.
The sickly season on the Sacramento and its tributaries, waa
aearly over, but numbers of pale, emaciated frames, broken down
by agues and diarrhoeas, were daily arriving in the launches and
steamers. At least one-third of the miners suffered more or less
from these diseases, and numbers of men who had landed only 9
AN AGUE CASE. VJ01
few months before, in the fulness of hale and lusty manhood wen
walking about nearly as shrunken and bloodless as the corpses
they would soon become. One of the most pitiable sights I ever
beheld was one of these men, who had just been set ashore ftom a
launch. He was sitting alone on a stone beside the water, with
his bare feet purple with cold, on the cold, wet sand. He was
wrapped from head to foot in a coarse blanket, which shook with
the violence of his chill, as if his limbs were about to drop in
pieces. He seemed unconscious of all that was passing ; his long
matted hair hung over his wasted face ; his eyes glared steadily
forward, with an expression of suffering so utterly hopeless and
wild, that I shuddered at seeing it. This was but one out of a
number of cases, equally sad and distressing. The exposure at*d
privations of a miner's life soon sap a frame that has not previ-
ously been hardened by the elements, and the maladies incident
to a new country assail with double force the constitutions thus
prepared to receive them.
I found the climate of San Francisco vastly improved during
my absence. The temperature was more genial and equable, and
the daily hurricanes of the summer had almost entirely Ceased.
A.S a consequence of this, the streets had a more active and pleas-
ant aspect, and the continual whirl of business was enlivened by
something like cheerfulness. Politics had taken root in this ap-
propriate hot-bed of excitement, and was flourishing with a
rapidity and vigor of growth which showed that, though an exotic
plant, it would soon be native in the soil. Meetings were held
nearly every night at Denison's Exchange, where the rival parties
for the different personal interests were not slow in arraying
themselves against each other had their speeches, their huzzas
and their drinks. The Congressional candidates bore the brunt
40 ELDORADO.
6f the struggle, since three or four of them were residents ; bul
(he Senatorship gave rise to the most deep-laid and complicated
machinations. The principal candidates, T. Butler King, Col.
Fremont and Dr. Gwin, had each his party of devoted adherents,
who occupied the two weeks intervening between the nomination
and election, in sounding and endeavoring to procure the votes of
the candidates for the State Legislature, on whom the choice of
Senators depended.
Col. Fremont was residing at the time in the Happy Valley,
in a Chinese house, which he had erected on one of his lots Mr.
King was at Sonoma, where he had gone to recruit, after an illness
which was near proving fatal. His friends, however, called a
meeting in his favor, which was held in Portsmouth Square an
injudicious movement, as the consequence proved. Dr. Gwin was
making an electioneering tour through the mining districts, for the
purpose of securing the election of the proper Delegates to the
State Senate and Assembly. It was curious how soon the Ameri-
can passion for politics, forgotten during the first stages of the
State organization, revived and emulated the excitement of an
election in the older States.
A day or two after my arrival, the Steamer Unicorn came into
tee harbor, being the third which had arrived without bringing a
mail. These repeated failures were too much for even a patient
people to bear ; an indignation meeting in Portsmouth Square was
called, but a shower, heralding the rainy season, came on in time
to prevent it. Finally, on the last day of October, on the eve of
the departure of another steamer down the coast, the Panama
eame in, bringing the mails for July, August and September all
at once ! Thirty-seven mail-bags were hauled up to the little
Post-Office that nigbt, and the eight clerks were astounded by the
STRUCTURE OF THE POST OFFICE. 208
receipt of forty-five thousand letters, besides uncounted bushels oi
newspapers. I was at the time domiciled in Mr. Moore's garret
and enjoying the hospitalities of his plank-table ; I therefore offered
my services as clerk-extraordinary, and was at once vested with
full powers and initiated into all the mysteries of counting, classi-
fying and distributing letters.
The Post-Office was a small frame building, of one story, and
not more than forty feet in length. The entire front, which was
graced with a narrow portico, was appropriated to the windows for
delivery, while the rear was divided into three small compartments
a newspaper room, a private office, and kitchen. There were
two windows for the general delivery, one for French and Spanish
letters, and a narrow entry at one end of the building, on which
faced the private boxes, to the number of five hundred, leased to
merchants and others at the rate of $1,50 per month. In this
email space all the operations of the Office were carried on. The
rent of the building was $7,000 a year, and the salaries of the
clerks from $100 to $300 monthly, which, as no special provision
had been made by Government to meet the expense, effectually
confined Mr. Moore to these narrow limits. For his strict and
conscientious adherence to the law, he received the violent censure
of a party of the San Franciscans, who would have had him make
fres use of the Government funds.
The Panama's mail-bags reached the Office about nine o'clock.
The doors were instantly closed, the windows darkened, and every
preparation made for a long siege. The attack from without com
menced about the same time. There were knocks on the doors,
laps on the windows, and beseeching calls at all corners of the
house. The interior was well lighted ; the bags were emptied or
the floor, and ten pairs of hands engaged in the assortment and
21P CLDORA*X
distribution of their contents. The work went on rapidly and
noiselessly as the night passed away, but with the first streak oJ
daylight the attack commenced again. Every avenue of entrance
was barricaded ; the crowd was told through the keyhole that the
Office would be opened that day to no one : but it all availed no-
thing. Mr. Mocre's Irish servant could not go for a bucket of water
irithout being surrounded and in danger of being held captive.
Men dogged his heels in the hope of being able to slip in behind
him before he could lock the door.
We labored steadily all day, and had the satisfaction of seeing
the huge pile of letters considerably diminished. Towards even-
ing the impatience of the crowd increased to a most annoying
pitch. They knocked ; they tried shouts and then whispers and
then shouts again ; they implored and threatened by turns ; and
not seldom offered large bribes for the delivery of their lettors.
" Curse such a Post-Office and such a Post-Master !" said one ;
" I'll write to the Department by the next steamer. We'll see
whether things go on in this way much longer." Then comes a
messenger slyly to the back-door : " Mr. sends his compli-
ments, and says you would oblige him very much by letting me
have his letters ; he won't say anything about it to anybody." A
clergyman, or perhaps a naval officer, follows, relying on a white
cravat or gilt buttons for the favor which no one else can obtain.
Mr. Moore politely but firmly refuses ; and so we work on, un-
moved by the noises of the besiegers. The excitement and anxiety
of the public can scarcely be told in words. Where the sourco
that governs business, satisfies affection and supplier intelligence
had been shut off from a whole community for three months, the
rush from all sides to supply the void, was irresistible.
In the afternoon, a partial delivery was made to the owners of
SOUNDS ON THE PORTICO. 211
private boxes. It was effected in a skillful way, though with some
danger to the clerk who undertook the opening of the door. On
account of the crush and destruction of windows on former occa
eions, ho ordered them to form into line and enter in regular order.
They at first refused, but on his counter-refusal to unlock the door
complied with some difficulty. The moment the key was turned,
the rush into the little entry was terrific ; the glass faces of the
boxes were stove in, and the wooden partition seemed about to
give way. In the space of an hour the clerk took in postage to
the amount of $600 ; the principal firms frequently paid from $50
to $100 for their correspondence.
We toiled on till after midnight of the second night, when the
work was so far advanced that we could spare an hour or two for
rest, and still complete the distribution in tune for the opening ol
the windows, at noon the next day. So we crept up to our blan
kets in the garret, worn out by forty-four hours of steady labor
We had scarcely begun to taste the needful rest, when our sleep
deep as it was, was broken by a new sound. Some of the be
siegers, learning that the windows were to be opened at noon
came on the ground in the middle of the night, in order to havo
the first chance for letters. As the nights were fresh and cool,
they soon felt chilly, and began a stamping march along the por-
tico, which jarred the whole building and kept us all painfully
awake. This game was practised for a week after the distribution
commenced, and was a greater hardship to those employed in tht
Office than their daily labors. One morning, about a week after
this, a single individual came about midnight, bringing a chair with
him, and some refreshments. He planted himself directly opposite
the door, and sat there quietly all night. It was the day for dis-
patching the Monterey mail, and one of the clerks got up aboi/
21J ELDORADO
four o clock to have it in readiness for the carrier. On opening
the door in the darkness, he was confronted by this man, who
seated solemnly in his chair, immediately gave his name in a loud
Toice : " John Jenkins !'"
When, finally, the windows were opened, the scenes aronnd the
office were still more remarkable. In order to prevent a general
riot 'among the applicants, they were recommended to form in
ranks. This plan once established, those inside could work with
more speed and safety. The lines extended in front all the way
down the hill into Portsmouth Square, and on the south side
across Sacramento street to the tents among the chapparal ; while
that from the newspaper window in the rear stretched for some
distance up the hill. The man at the tail of the longest line
might count on spending six hours in it before he reached the
window. Those who were near the goal frequently sold out their
places to impatient candidates, for ten, and even twenty-five dol-
lars ; indeed, several persons, in want of money, practised this
game daily, as a means of living ! Venders of pies, cakes and
newspapers established themselves in front of the office, to supply
the crowd, while others did a profitable business by carrying cans
of coffee up and down the lines.
The labors of the Post Office were greatly increased by the
necessity of forwarding thousands of letters to the branch offices
or to agents among the mountains, according to the orders of the
miners. This part of the business, which was entirely without
remuneration, furnished constant employment for three or four
elerks. Several persons made large sums by acting as agents,
supplying the miners with their letters, at $ 1 each, which in-
eluded the postage from the Atlantic side. The arrangement*
INCREASE OF PAT NEEDED. 213
for the transportation of the inland mail were very imperfect, and
thtse private establishments were generally preferred.
The necessity of an immediate provision for the support of all
branches of Government service, was, (and still remains, at the
tune I write,) most imminent. Unless something be speedilj
done, the administration of many offices in California must be-
come impossible. The plan of relief is simple and can readily be
accomplished in the Civil Department, by a direct increase of
emolument, in the Military and Naval, by an advance in the price
of rations, during service on the Pacific Coast. Our legislators
appear hardly to understand the enormous standard of prices, and
the fact that many years must elapse before it can be materially
lessened. Men in these days will not labor for pure patriotism,
rhen the ccuntry is so well able to pay them.
CHAPTER XII.
SACRAMENTO RIVER AND CITT.
THE change of temperature following the heavy shower which
fell the day after my arrival at San Francisco, seemed to announce
the near approach of the rainy season. I made all haste, there-
fore, to start on my tour through the northern placers, fearing
lest it might be made impossible by a longer delay. The schooner
James L. Day was advertised to leave for Sacramento City about
the time we had finished distributing the mail, and as no prepara-
tion is required for a journey in California, I took my sarape and
went down to Clark's Point, which is to San Francisco whal
Whitehall is to New York. The fare was $14, which included
our embarkation a matter of some little consequence, -when $5
was frequently paid to be rowed out to a vessel. There were
about seventy passengers on board, the greater part of whom had
just arrived in the steamer Panama. The schooner was a trim,
beautiful craft, that had weathered the gales of Cape Horn. A
ftrong wind was blowing from the south, with a rain coming up
as we hove anchor and fired a parting gun. We passed the
islands of Yerba Buena and Alcatraz, looked out through the
Golden Gate on the Pacific, and dashed into the strait connecting
the Bay of San Francisco with Pablo Bay, before a ten-knot
THE 8TRAIT8 Of CARQUINEZ. 216
breeze. This strait, six miles in length and about three in
breadth, presents a constant variety of scene, from the irregu-
larity of its mountain-shores. In the middle of it stands an island
of red volcanic rock, near which are two smaller ones, white with
uano, called The Brothers. At the entrance of Pablo Bay are
wo others, The Sisters, similar in size and form.
Pablo Bay is nearly circular, and about twelve miles in diame-
ter The creeks of Napa, Petaluma and San Rafael empty into
it on the northern side, opposite Mare Island, so called from a
wild mare who was formerly seen at the head of a band of elk,
galloping over its broad meadows. We had but a dim glimpse of
the shore through the rain. Our schooner bent to the wind, and
cut the water so swiftly, that it fairly whistled under her sharp
prow. The spray dashed over the deck and the large sails were
motionless in their distension, as we ran before the gale, at a most
exhilarating speed. A very good dinner at $1, was served up in
the eight-by-ten cabin and there was quite a run upon the cook's
galley, for pies, at$l apiece.
We speedily made the entrance to the Straits of Carquinez
where the mountains approach to within three-quarters 3f a mile.
Several of the newly-arrived emigrants expressed themselves de-
lighted with the barren shores and scanty patches of chapparal
It was their first view of the inland scenery of California. The
rain had already brought out a timid green on the hills, and the
soil no longer looked parched and dead. " Ah !" said one of the
company, " what beautiful mountains ! this California is really a
splendid aountry." " Very well," thought I, " but if you dig
less gold than you anticipate, catch the ague or fail in speculation,
what will you say then ? Will not the picture you draw be at
dark and forbidding as it is now delightful > 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 h<ir
to Gen. Morse, for the ride back to Sacramento City, his own
horse having broken loose during the night. The grass, which
had already begun to sprout, was not more than quarter of an
inch in height, and afforded no sustenance to cattle. I therefore
reluctantly decided to shorten my journey, and perform the
remainder of it on foot.
The same night of my arrival on the river, I heard many stories
about " The Volcano"- a plac some twenty miles further itc
240 ELDORADO.
the heart of the mountains, where, it ras said, a very rich de
prsit of gold had been found, near the mouth of an extinct crater.
I made due allowance for the size which gold lumps attain, the
farther they roll, but a curiosity to see some of the volcanic ap-
pearances which are said to become frequent as you approach the
anowy ridge, induced me to start in the morning after haviug seen
my horse's head turned again towards the region of hay.
Dr. Gillette kindly offered to accompany me on the trip an
offer the more welcome, on account of the additional security it
gave me against hostile Indians. The entire mountain district,
above the Upper Bar (about four miles from the Lower Bar)
and particularly at the Forks of the Mokelumne was overrun
with Indians, some of whom were of the tribe of the old chief.
Polo, and others of a tribe lately made hostile to the Americana
by an affray at the Volcano. Polo, it was rumored had been
shot; but I gave no credit to the report. He was mucL too
cautious and cunning, to be entrapped. To the miners about
that region, he was as much of a will-o'-the-wisp as Abdel-
Kader was to the French. More than once he visited the dig-
gings in disguise, and no small company, prospecting above the
Forks, was safe from having a brush with his braves.
We took care to provide ourselves with a good double-barreled
rifle before starting. Our route lay up the river to the Middle
Bar, Climbing the mountain behind that place, we took a line
for the Butte, a lofty, isolated peak, which serves as a landmark
for the country between the Cosumne and the Mokelumne. De-
wending through wild, wooded ravines, we struck an Indian trail,
irith fresh tracks upon it. The thick chapparal, here and there,
nado us think of ambuscades, and we traveled more cautiously and
'ilently than was actually needful In the deep nooks and re-
THE FOREST TRAIL. 241
cesses of the mountains we noticed ruined huts and the ashes of
deserted camp-fires The gulches in all directions had been dug
up by gold-hunters during the summer. One, in particular, at
the foot of the Butte, showed as we ascended it, for more than a
mfle scarcely a foot of soil untouched. The amount of gold ob
tained from it must have been very great. The traces of these
operations, deep in the wilderness, accounted for the feet of minen
becoming suddenly rich, after disappearing from the Bars for
few days.
We climbed to the level of the mountain region, out of whicl
the Butte towered a thousand feet above us. Our trail led east-
ward from its foot, towards the Sierra Nevada, whose shining sum
mits seemed close at hand. The hills were dotted with forests of
pine and oak, many specimens of the former tree rising to the
height of two hundred and fifty feet. The cones, of a dark red
eolor, were fully eighteen inches hi length. The madrono, which
rises to a stately tree in the mountains near Monterey, was here a
rough shrub, looking, with its blood-red arms and lifeless foliage,
as if it had been planted over a murderer ""s grave. The ground, in
the sheltered hollows, was covered with large acorns, very little
inferior to chesnuts in taste ; the deer and bear become very fat
at this season, from feeding upon them. They form the principal
subsistence of the Indian tribes during the winter. In one of the
ravines we found an " Indian wind-mill," as the miners call it *
flat rock, with half a dozen circular holes on its surface, beside
each of which lay a round stone, used in pulverizing the acorns.
We passed one or two inhabited camps a short distance from the
trail, but were apparently unobserved. Further on. in the forest,
we came suddenly upon two young Indians, who were going on a
trail leading towards the Forks. They started at first to run, but
vot.. i. 11
242 ELDORADO.
stopped when we hailed them ; they understood m ither English
nor Spanish, but some tobacco which the doctor gave them wa/"
very joyfully received.
The stillness and beauty of the shaded glens through which we
traveled were very impressive. Threaded by clear streams which
turned the unsightly holes left by the miners into pools of crystal,
mirroring the boughs far above, their fresh, cool aspect jvas very
different from the glowing furnaces they form in summer. The
foliage was still very little changed ; only the leaves of the buck
rye had fallen, and its polished nuts filled the paths. The ash waa
turned to a blazing gold, and made a perpetual sunset in the woods
But the oak here wore an evergreen livery ; the grass was already
shooting up over all the soil, and the Winter at hand was so decked
in the mixed trappings of Summer Autumn and Spring, that we
hardly recognized him.
Late in the afternoon we accidentally took a side trail, which
led up a narrow ravine and finally brought us to an open space
among the hills, where a company of prospectors were engaged in
pitching their tent for the winter. They were seven in number,
mostly sailors, and under the command of a Virginian named
Woodhouse. Their pack-mules had just arrived with supplies
from their former camp, and a half-naked Indian was trying to
get some flour. On learning the scarcity of the article on the
river, they refused to sell him any. He importuned them some
time, but in vain : " Very well," said he, " you shall be driven
off to-morrow," and went away. We were very hungry, and em-
ployed the cook of the company to get us something to eat. He
built a fire, fried some salt pork, and made us a dish of pancakes
I could not help admiring the dexterity with which he tossed the
cake in the air and caught it on the other side as it came down
CAMPING IN A STORM 243
iuto the pan. We ate with an animal voracity, for che usual
California appetite equal to that of three men at home- was
sharpened by our long walk.
It was now beginning to grow dark, and a rain coming on. We
were seven miles from the Volcano, and would have preferred re-
maining for the night, had the miners given any encouragement
to our hints on the subject. Instead of this, it seemed to us thai
they were suspicious of our being spies upon their prospecting, so
we left them and again plunged into the forest. Regaining the
proper trail we went at a rapid rate through gloomy ravines, which
*ere canopied by thick mist. It grew darker, and the ram began
to fall. We pushed on in silence, hoping to reach some place of
shelter, but the trail became more and more indistinct, till at last
we kept it with our feet rather than our eyes. I think we must
have walked in it a mile after we ceased entirely to see it. Onco
>r 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, an<l leaving the remains where none but the wolf will evei
seek their resting-place.
By th.3 time the companies reached Fort Laramie the epidemic
hail expended its violence, and in the pure air of the elerated
noun tain region they were safe from its further attacks. Now
24 ELDORADC
however, the rial hardships of their journey began. Dp uid down
the mountains that hem in the Sweetwater Valley over the spurs
of the Wind River chain through the Devil's Gate, and past the
stupendous mass of Rock Independence they toiled slowly up to
the South Pass, descended to tlie tributaries of the Colorado and
plunged into the rugged defiles of the Timpanozu Mountains.
Here the pasturage became scarce and the companies were oblige^
to take separate trails in order to fad sufficient grf L 3 for then
teams. Many, who, in their anxiety to get forward with speed,
had thrown away a great part of the supplies that encumbered
them, now began to want, and were frequently reduced, in their
necessity, to make use of their mules and horses for food. It was
not unusual for a mess, by way of variety to the tough mule-meat,
to kill a quantity of rattle-snakes, with which the mountains
abounded, and have a dish of them fried, for supper. The distress
of many of the emigrants might have been entirely avoided, had
they possessed any correct idea, at the outset of the journey, of its
length and privations.
It must have been a remarkable scene, which the City of the
Great Salt Lake presented during the summer. There, a com-
munity of religious enthusiasts, numbering about ten thousand,
had established themselves beside an inland sea, in a grand
valley shut in by snow-capped mountains, a thousand miles from
any other civilized spot, and were dreaming of rebuilding the
Tempi 9 and creating a New Jerusalem. Without this restipar
place in mid-journey, the sufferings of the emigrants must have
been much aggravated. The Mormons, however, whose rich
Efain-lands in the Valley of the Utah River had produced them
%bundance of supplies, were able to spare sufficient for thcsn whose
tock was exhausted. Two or three thousand, who arrived -late in
EMIGRANTS IN THE GREAT BASIN 285
ths seaaon, remained in the Valley all winter, fearing to undertake
the toilsome journey which still remained.
Those who set out for California had the worst yet in store for
them. Crossing the alternate sandy wastes and rugged mountain
shains of the Great Basin to the Valley of Humboldt's River, they
were obliged to trust entirely to their worn and weary animals for
reaching the Sierra Nevada before the winter snows. The grass
was scarce and now fast drying up in the scorching heat of mid-
summer, lu the endeavor to hasten forward and get the first
shance of pasture, many again committed the same mistake of
throwing away their supplies. I was told of one man, who, with a
refinement of malice and cruelty which it would be im possible to
surpass, set fire to the meadows of dry grass, for the sole purpose,
it was supposed, of retarding the progress of those who were be
hind and might else overtake him. A company of the emigrants
on the best horses which were to be obtained, pursued him and
shot him from the saddle as he rode a fate scarcely equal to hit
deserts.
The progress of the emigrants along the Valley of Humboldt's
River is described as having been slow and toilsome hi the ex-
treme. The River, which lies entirely within the Great Basin,
whose waters, like those of the uplands of Central Asia, have no
connexion with the sea shrinks away towards the end of summer,
and finally loses itself in the sand, at a place called the Sink
Here, the single trail across the Basin divides into three branches
and the emigrants, leaving the scanty meadows about the Sink
hive before them an arid desert, varying fron fifty to eighty miles
in breadth, according to the route which they take. Many com-
panies, on arriving at this place, were obliged to stop and recruit
.heir exhausted animals, though exposed to the danger of
286 ELDOPADO.
detained there the whole winter, from the fall of sncw on the
Sierra Nevada. Another, and very large body of tl.em, took the
upper route to Lawson's Pass, which leads to the head of the
Sacramento Valley ; but the greater part, fortunately, chose the
old traveled trails, leading to Bear Creek and the Yuba, by way of
Truckee River, and to the head-waters of the Rio Americano bj
way of Carson's River.
The two latter routes are the shortest and best. After leaving
the Sink of Humboldt's River, and crossing a desert of about fifty
miles in breadth, the emigrant reaches the streams which are fed
from the Sierra Nevada, where he finds good grass and plenty of
game. The passes are described as terribly rugged and precipitous,
leading directly up the face of the great snowy ridge. As, how-
ever, they are not quite eight thousand feet above the sea, and are
reached from a plateau of more than four thousand feet, the ascent
is comparatively short ; while, on the western side, more than a
hundred miles of mountain country must be passed, before reach-
ing the level of the Sacramento Valley. There are frequent
passes in the Sierra Nevada which were never crossed before the
summer of 1849. Some of the emigrants, diverging from the
known trail, sought a road for themselves, and found their way
down from the snows to the head waters of the Tuolumne, the
Calaveras and Feather River. The eastern slope of the Sierra
Nevada is but imperfectly explored. All the emigrants concurred
n representing it to me as an abrupt and broken region, the
higher peaks of barren granite, the valleys deep and narrow, yet
In many places timbered with pine and cedar of immense growth.
After passing the dividing ridge, the descent from which wai
rendered almost impossible by precipices and steeps of naked roci
- about thirty miles of alternate canons and divides lay
I HE DESCENT OK THE MOUNTAINS. 281
the emigrants and the nearest diggings. Th^ steepness of the
slopes of this range is hardly equalled by any other mountains in
the world. The rivers seem to wind their way through the bot-
toms of chasms, and in many places it is impossible to get down
to the water TV word canon (meaning, in Spanish, a funnel,)
has a peculiar adaptation to these cleft channels through which the
rivers are poured. In getting down from the summit ridge the
emigrants told me they were frequently obliged to take the oxen
from the wagon and lower it with ropes ; but for the shf- >r 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-hous<j
rity, New-York-of-the-Pacific The bay was dancing to the fresh
iorthern breeze as we skimmed its waters, to wards Benicia; Monto
Diablo, on the other side, wore a blue mist over his scarred and
rocky surface, which looked deceptively near.
The three weeks of rain which had fallen since I passed up the
bay, had brought out a vivid green over all the hills. Those along
&e water were no longer lifeless and barren, but covered with
tprouting vegetation. Benicia, as we approached, it, appeared
like a child's toy town set out on a piece of green velvet. Con-
trasted with this gay color, the changeless hue of the evergreen
oaks appeared sombre almost to blackness ; seen in unison with
a cloudless sky and the glittering blue of the bay, the effect
of the freeh green was indescribably cheerful and inspiring
We touched but a few minutes at Benicia, whose street
presented a quiet appearance, coming from the thronged avenuei
of Sacramento City. The houses were mostly frame, of neat
instruction ; a church with a small white spire, at the upper
THE SUNSETS OF CALIFORNIA. 295
end of the town, stood out brightly against the green of the hills
behind.
Beyond these hills, at the distance of thirty-five miles, is the
pleasant little town of Sonoma, G-en. Vallejo's residence. In
summer it is reached from Sacramento City by a trail of forty
miles, but when the rains come on, the tule marshes running up
from the bay between the river and the mountains, are flooded,
and a circuit of more than a hundred miles must be made to get
around them. Two days' journey north of Sonoma is Lake Clear,
i beautiful sheet of water, sixty miles in length, embosomed in the
tnidst of grand mountain scenery.
Sunset came on as we approached the strait opening from Pablo
Bay into the Bay of San Francisco. The cloudless sky became
gradually suffused with a soft rose-tint, which covered its whole sur-
face, painting alike the glassy sheet of the bay, -and glowing most
dvidly on the mountains to the eastward. The color deepened
ivery moment, and the peaks of the Coast Range burned with a
iich vermilion light, like that of a live coal. This faded gradually
nto as glowing a purple, and at last into a blue as intense as that
>f 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<? matters of course Among
others that came under my observation, was one of a gentleman
who purchased a barrel of alum for $5, the price in New York
being $9. It happened to be the only alum in the place, and as
there was a demand for it shortly afterwards, he sold the barrel
for $150. Anothi> 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<x
shoreward, a little spark appeared through the fog. Suddenly it
shot up into a spiry flame, and at the same instant I heard the
ound of gongs, bells and trumpets, and the shouting of human
voices. The calamity, predicted and dreaded so long in advance,
rhat men ceased to think of it, had come at last San Francisco
was on fire ! The blaze increased with fearful rapidity. In
fifteen minutes, it had risen into a broad, flickering column, mak-
ing all the shore, the misty air and the wat*r- ruddy as with another
318 ELDORADO.
Bunriso. The sides of new frame houses, scattered through the
town, tents high up on the hills, and the hulls and listless sails of
vessels in the bay, gleamed and sparkled in the thick atmosphere
Meanwhile the roar and tumult swelled, and above the clang of
gongs and the ciies of the populace, I could hear the crackling
of blazing timbers, and the smothered sound of falling roofs. 1
climbed into the rigging and watched the progress of the confla-
gration. As the flames leaped upon a new dwelling, there was a
sadden whirl of their waving volumes an embracing of the frail
walls in their relentless clasp and, a second afterwards, from roof
lad rafter and foundation-beam shot upward a jet of fire, steady and
Intense at first, but surging off into spiral folds and streamers, as
the timbers were parted and fell.
For more than hour, while we were tacking in the channel
between Yerba Buena Island and the anchorage, there was no
apparent check to the flames. Before passing Fort Montgomery,
however, we heard several explosions in quick succession, and
sonjectured that vigorous measures had been taken to prevent
further destruction. When at last, with a fair breeze and bright
sky, we were dashing past the rock of Alcatraz, the red column
had sunk away to a smouldering blaze, and nothing but a heavy
canopy of smoke remained to tell the extent of the conflagration.
The Golden Gate was again before us, and I looked through its
mountain-walls on the rolling Pacific, with full as pleasant an
excitement as I had looked inwards, four months before, eager t
aatch the first glimpse of the new Eldorado.
The breeze freshened, the swell increased, and as the breaker*
ot the entrance receded behind us, we entered the rough sea left
by a recent gale. In trying to haul close to the wind, the captain
discovered that the rudder was broken. Immediately afterwards,
WE PUT BACK IN DISTRESS. 319
there was a cry of " a leak !" and from the terror on the faces of
the mate and sailors, I thought that nothing less than a dozen
blankets could stop the opening. The pumps were rigged in haste,
I nt little water was found in the hold, and on examination it ap-
peared that the leak, which was in the bow, was caused by the
springing apart .of the planking from a violent blow on the rocks
which the brig had received a short time previous. The captain
decided at once to return, much to our disappointment, as the
wind was fair for Mazatlan. We were twenty miles from the en-
trance, and after beating up until next morning found ourselves
just as far off as ever. The wind continuing fair, the captain at
length listened to us, and turned again towards Mazatlan. A
change of wind again changed his mind, and all that day and the
lext we tacked back and forth sometimes running out towards
the Farellones, sometimes close under the lee of the Punta de Lo>
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
<vas told, offered a dollar a bucket for water, and made use of
several thousand buckets in saving his property. All the owners
of property worked incessantly, and were aided by their friends
but at least five thousand spectators stood idle in the plaza. 1
hope their selfish indifference is not a necessary offshoot of society
here. It is not to be disputed, however, that constant familiarly
with the shifting of Fortune between her farthest extremes, blunt?
rery much the sympathies of the popular heart.
The German house of whom I had obtained a passage c or Ma*
atlan, was burned out, but the supercargo soon discovered it*
whereabouts. A committee of sea-captains, appointed to ox
amine the brigaatine, reported that she could be made ready foi
ea in three or four days. Under these circumstances, the own
322 ELDORADO
ers refused to refund more than half the passage-money, which
was $75, to those of us who chose to leave the vessel. My time
was now growing precious, and I had no doubt the three day?
spoken of would be extended to as many weeks. I therefore went
to the office of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, where, as 1
expected, every ticket had been taken weeks before, and neither
love, money nor entreaty seemed likely to procure one. Mr.
Robinson, the Agent, however, with a prompt kindness I shall not
soon forget, gave me a passage to Mazatlan, with the understand-
ing that I would have no berth and probably little sleeping-room
The steamer was to sail on the first of January, at daybreak.
After coming upon my friends like an apparition they having
supposed me to be far out at sea I spent two days on shore,
boused up from rain and mud, and finally took a boat for the
steamer on the last evening of the year 1849. It was during the
prevalence of the spring-tides, and no boat could be had to go
from the Long Wharf to the anchorage off the Rincon, for less
than j$4. I had two oarsmen for myself and blankets ; it was
aear the middle of the ebb-tide, and we ran inside the shelter of
toe point till we were abreast of the steamer. She was now about
three-quarters of a mile distant, but a foaming, raging flood was
>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</
336 ELDORADO
the river and passed through old Mazatlan a miserable village
of huts with a massive presidio and church in ruins. The morn-
ing was fresh and cool, and the road lay in shade for several
jiilej- My mule, having no whip behind him, was as lazy as evei
nd made me the subject of remark from all the natives who
passed. A ranchero, carrying an escopette and three live turkey
slung to the saddle, before him, offered his horse in exchange,
refused to trade, but an hour later, met an arriero, with a train o.
horses, laden with oja. He made the same proposition and un-
loaded the mountainous stack under which one of his horses was
buried, that I might try him. "Es muy caminador ," (a great
traveler,) said the owner ; but he was crooked-legged, sore-backed
and terribly thin in withers and flanks. Looking at him in front,
he seemed to have no breadth ; he was like a horse carved out of
plank, and I was almost afraid to mount, for fear I should pull
him over Nevertheless, he started off briskly ; so without wast-
ing words, I made an even exchange. Nothing was gained
however, in point of dignity, for my brisk lean horse occasioned
quite as many remarks as my fat lazy mule.
Towards noon I reached a little village called Santa Fe, where
I got a breakfast of frijoles and chopped sausage, mixed with red-
pepper a dish called chorisa for a real. The country 1 passed
was hilly and barren, with a range of broken mountains between
me and the sea. Crossing a ridge beyond Santa Fe, I came upon
extensive fields of aloes, cultivated for the vinous drink called
mescal, which is made of their juice. In the midst of them stood
the adobe town, of Agua Caliente a neat though scattering place
irith a spacious church. I journeyed on for leagues in the burn-
ing sun, over scorched hills, without water or refreshing verdure
My caminador ', too, lost the little spirit he had displayed, and
EVENING AT A POSADA. 337
jogged along at a snail's pace. I suffered greatly from thirst foi
several hours, till I reached a broad arroyo crossing the road,
where I found a little muddy water at the bottom of a hole
Some Indians who were seated in the shade, near a sort of camp-
fire, put me on the right trail for Potrerillos, the village where 1
expected to pass the night. A pleasantly shaded path of a league
took me thither by sunset.
My old native friend on the Rio Mazatlan told me I could
rtop wherever I chose, on the road ; no ranchero would refuse to re-
jeive me. I accordingly rode up to the first house, and inquired ;
' Can I stay here to-night r" " Si Scnor," was the ready aa-
rwei'. The place was small, and the people appeared impoverished,
w I asked whether there was a posada in the place. " Go to Don
[polito," said the man ; " that is where the estranjeros stay,"
Don Ipolito was a Frenchman, who had an adobe hut and corral
for mules, in the centre of the village. He was about starting for
Mazatlan, but gave directions to the women and mozos to furnish
me with supper, and my horse with corn and oja. His instruc-
tions were promptly obeyed ; I had a table set with chorisa and
frijoles, under the thatched portico ; then a cup of black coffee
and a puro, which I enjoyed together, while trying to comprehend
the talk of a very pretty girl of fifteen and a handsome young
ranchero, evidently her lover, who sat near me on a low adobe
wall. They were speaking of marriage that I found at once
Hit another ranchero perhaps a rival suitor named Pio, formed
ieir principal topic. " Es sin verguenza, Pio" (He's a
Jiameless fellow, that Pio,) was frequently repeated by both of
them.
My bed-time was not long in coming. A boy was sent into the
.oft of the hut for a frame. made of woven cane, which was placed
15
338 ELDORADO.
on the portico, and covered with a coarse matting I throw 013
blankets on it, using my coat for a pillow, and was sound asleep
in five minutes. Half an hour might have elapsed, when I was
suddenly aroused by a sound like the scream of a hundred fiends
The frame on which I lay was rocked to and fro, and came near
overturning ; I sprang up in alarm, finding my bed in the midst oi
a black, moving mass, from which came the horrid sound. It
proved to be a legion of hogs, who had scented out a few grains oi
corn in a basket which had held my horse's feed, and was placed
under the bed. The door of the hut opened, and the hostess ap-
peared with a lamp. At sight of her, the beasts gave a hasty
grunt, cleared the wall at one bound, and disappeared. " Santa
Maria /" shrieked the woman ; " son demonios son kijos dd
diablo ! " (they are demons they are children of the devil !) I
feared that another descent upon me would be made after she had
gone back to her hammock ; but I was not molested again.
I arose in the morning, fed my horse, saddled, and was off by
sunrise. The town of El Rosario was but four leagues distant,
and the road was full of young rancheros in their holiday dresses,
riding thither to mass. Three of them joined company with me
and tried to sell me one of their horses. " You'll never reach
Tepic with that horse," said they, " look at ours !" and awaj?
they would gallop for a hundred yards, stopping with one bound,
to wait for my slow-paced caminador. They drew out theii
tobacco and tinder-boxes, as we rode along ; one of them, a spruw
young fellow, with a green silk sash around his waist, rolled his
dgarito in corn-husk, smoked about one-third of it and presented
me with the remainder, that I might see how much better i
tasted than paper. The flavor was indeed mild and delightful I
puffed away an inch of it, and then returned him the stump. A
A PREARJfAST AT ELRO8ARIO 339
naked boy, basking in the sun at the door of a hut, called out
' Yanki ! " as I passed.
El Rosario is built on a beautiful site, in a broad vaDey, sur-
rounded by blue and jagged peaks. It has several streets of
spacious stone houses, for the most part ruined, and a church with
B fine stone tower a hundred and fifty feet in height. I had to
cross the plaza, which was filled with the rancheros of the neigh-
borhood, waiting for the hour of mass ; my caminador was the
subject of general notice, and I was truly rejoiced when I had
hidden his raw bones from sight in the court-yard of a fonda.
The house was kept by a good-natured old lady, and three large
parrots, who, (the parrots) sat each on a different perch, contin-
ually repeating : u c/iiquita perriquito, bonito, blanquito !" the
only phrase I ever heard a Mexican carrot utter, and which may
oe thus translated : " very little, pretty little, white-little par-
rotling !" I ate my breakfast of beans and red-peppers, chatting
the while with the old lady, who was loud in her praises of Tepic,
thither I told her I was bound. " Es mi pais," said she, " es un
pais pi-edosc." She scolded me good-humoredly at starting, for
having left my horse where he might have been stolen, and bado
me beware of the robbers ; but, thought I, who would take such a
horse
Crossing the river of Rosario, I took a path embowered in green
thickets, through which glided multitudes of macaws and tufted
birds of gay plumage. At noon I came into a lovely valley among
khe mountains, and followed a stream shaded by splendid syca-
mores and palms. Little patches of meadow land slept like still
lakes among the woods, with thatched ranches spotting their
shores I rode up to one of these for a drink of water, which an
old mac brought me in a calabash . standing bare-headed till I had
340 ELDORADO-
finished drinking. The trails soon after scattered, and I
that I had lost the main road. In this emergency I met a ran
chero, who told me I had wandered far from the right track, bul
that he would act as guide. I promised him a reward, if he woulu
accompany me, whereupon he ran to his hut for a laiiat, caught a
horse and sprang on his unsaddled back. We rode for more than
two hours in a foot-path through the depths of the tangled forest,
before striking the road. The impervious screen of foliage above
3ur heado kept off the sun and turned the daylight into an emerald
gloom. Taking leave of my guide, I emerged from these lonely
and enchanting shades upon the burnt upland, where the tall fan-
palms rustled drearily in the hot wind. As the afternoon wore
away, another green level of billowy foliage appeared ahead ; the
bills lay behind me, and far away to the right I saw the sea-blink
along the edges of the sky.
Notwithstanding the unsurpassed fertility of soil and genial
character cf climate, this region is very scantily settled, except in
the broad river-bottoms opening towards the sea. There, undei
the influence of a perpetual summer, the native race becomes in-
dolent and careless of the future. Nature does everything for
them ; a small patch of soil will produce enough maize and bananas
for a family, with which, and the eternal frijoles, they have abun-
dance for life's wants. The saplings of the woods furnish them
with posts, rafters and ridge-poles, the palm and the cane with
thatch and bedding. They arc exempt from all trouble as to
their subsistence ; the blue ramparts of the Sierra Madre on one
side, and the silver streak of the sea on the other, enclose theii
world They grow up lithe and agile in the free air, mate, wax
old and die, making never a step out of the blind though contented
round which their falhers walked before them. I do not belicvt
tHE HOSTESS OF A MESOW. $4}
that a more docile cr kindly-disposed people exists than thest
ranchei os. In all my intercourse with them I was treated with
unvarying honesty, and with a hospitality as sincere as it was
courteous and respectful. During all my travels in the Ticrre
Caliontc, I was never imposed upon as a stranger nor insulted as
n American.
My resting-place the third night was the village of Escuinapa
where 1 found a meson, kept, or at least managed by a lady whose
kindnuss and cheerfulness were exactly in proportion to her size ,
that is, they were about as broad as they were long. She was a fast
friend of tho Americans, and spoke with rapture of the promptness
with which all the emigrants whom she had entertained, had paid
their bills. Her own countrymen, she said, were slippery cus-
tomers ; they frequently ran off without paying a claco. Sho
talked of going to California ; she thought if she were to establish
a meson in the diggings, all the emigrants who had passed through
Escuinapa would patronize her. " They are all good people,' 1
said she ; " I like them as well as if they were my brothers, and 1
am sure they would come to visit me." An old man, who seemed
to be her husband, sat swinging in the hammock, lifting his feel
high enough that his blue velvet calzoncros should not be soiled on
the floor. I had an excellent dinner of eggs, fish and chocolate,
finishing with a delicate dgarito which the corpulent hostess pre-
pared for me. Two or three Mexican travelers arrived for the
tight and took possession of the cane bed-frame and benches in the
room, leaving me only the cold adobe floor. " "Will you take onl
your saddle and bridle ? " requested the old lady ; " lot senorn
ore going to sleep here." " But where am I to sleep ?" I asked
* Con migo /" was the immediate answer. " Como ?'* said I
rarprised and alarmed ; I was hon or-struck and must have looked
342 ELDORADO.
BO, for she seemed amused at my bewilderment. " Come !" aht
replied, and took up the lamp. I shouldered the saddle, and fol-
lowed to a dark, wiadowiess closet, in the rear of the house. It
was just large enough to hold two frames, covered with matting,
Mid some bags of maize and barley. " This is your bed," said she,
pointing to one of them, " and this is ours. I hope you do not
object to our sleeping in the same room." I laid my saddle on
the frame indicated, put my head on it, and slept soundly till tL*>
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 <ut to
me a path which led to ?. hut, but I soon lost it, aqd pandered
ELEVATED LODGINGS. 317
about at random on the dark fenceless meadows. At last I beard
a dog's bark the sure sign of habitation and, following thfl
sound, came to a small ranche.
I was at once given permission to stay, and the women went to
wwk on the tortillas for my supper. I swung off my fatigue in
oammock, and supped by starlight on the food of the Aztecs the
everlasting tortilla, which is a most nourishing and palatable cake
when eaten fresh from the hot stone on which it is baked. There
were several dogs about the ranche, and the biggest of their
showed a relentless hostility towards me. " El Chucho don't liko
you," said the ranchero ; " he'll bite if he can get hold of you ;
you had better climb up there and sleep," and he pointed to a
sort of cane platform used for drying fruit, and raised on pole*
about twelve feet from the ground. I took my blankets, climbed
up to the frail couch, and lay down under the stars, with Taurus
at the zenith. El Chucho took his station below ; as often as I
turned on my airy bed during the night, the vile beast set up hia
howl anti all the dog-herd howled in concert.
The next day I breakfasted at the hacienda of Buena Vista and
rode about six leagues further, to the town of Rosa Morada. (The
Violet Rose.) Just before reaching the place I caught sight of a
mountain very far to the south, and recognized its outline as that
of the Silla dt San Juan (Saddle of St. John,) which rises be-
hind the roadstead of San Bias. This was a welcome sight,
for it marked the first step of my ascent to the Table-Land. I
was growing tired of the Tierra Caliente ; my face was blistertd
with the heat, and my skin sc punctured by musquitos, fleas, sand-
flies and venomous bugs that I resembled a patient in the last
gtage of small-pox. There was no me son in Rosa Morada, but a
miserable posada, where I found three Frenchmen, two of whom
3 48 fii.DORAtlO.
were fresh from Bordeaux and on their way to California. Thej
were all engaged about the kitchen fire, concocting then* dinner
which they invited me to share with them The materials thcr
picked up in the village were not elightcd in the cooking, foi
better vermicelli I never ate. They likewise carried their beds
with them and stretched their cot-frames on the airy portico. I
lay down on the adobes and slept " like a brick."
I was off at daylight, riding over an elevated plain towards the
Rio Santiago. Two arrieros, on their way to Topic, shared their
tortillas with me and proposed we should join company. They
stopped two hours to noon, however, and I left them. Urging
forward my despairing horse, I crossed one branch of the river at
San Pedro and reached Santiago, on the main branch, an hour be-
fore sunset. In descending to the Rio Santiago or, more prc-
perly, the Rio Tololotlan, its ancient Aztec apellation I came
upon plantations of bananas and plantains, heavy with ripening
fruit. The country showed signs of wealth and culture ; the
houses were large and well built and the fields divided by strong
fences of palm logs. All up and down the broad banks of the
river were scattered arrieros, mules and rows of pack-saddles.
while half a dozen large canoes were plying backwards and for
wards with their loads. I got into the first vacant one with my
saddle, bridle and blankets, taking a turn of the lariat round my
horse's nose. An arriero who had passed me the day previous,
with a horse as worn-out as my own, was the other passenger.
The river is about sixty yards wide, and very deep and swift. OUT
horses swam bravely behind us, and I believe were much the bet-
ter for the bath.
I took an instant liking to the arriero for two reasons : firstly
he had a dark, melancholy, intellectual eye ; secondly, he was the
A NIGHT \>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 paae<?
finely, and carried me to the village of San Lionel, ten leagnes
from Tepic, two hours before nightfall. I placed him securely J
the coiral, deposited my saddle in an empty room, the key of which,
weighing about four pounds, was given into my possession for the
time being, and entered the kitchen. I found the entire house-
hold in a state of pleased anticipation ; a little girl, with wings of
red and white gauze, and hair very tightly twisted into ropy ring-
lets, sat on a chair near the door. In the middle of the little
piaza, three rancheros, with scarfs of crimson and white silk sus-
pended from their shoulders and immense tinsel crowns upon their
heads, sat motionless on their horses, whose manes and tails were
studded with rosettes of different colored paper and streamers of
ribbons. These were, as I soon saw, part of the preparations for
a sacred dramatic spectacle a representation, sanctioned by the
religious teachers of the people.
Against the wing-wall of the Hacienda del Mayo, which occu-
pied one end of the plaza, was raised a platform, on which stood a
table covered with scarlet cloth. A rude bower of cane-leaves, on
one end of the platform, represented the manger of Bethlehem ;
while a cord, stretched from its top across the plaza to a hole in
the front of the church, bore a large tinsel star, suspended by
hole in its centre. There was quite a crowd in the plaza, and
very soon a procession appeared, coming up from the lower part
>f 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
<vere everywhere at work in the fields, watering the trees and vege-
tables from wells, out of which they drew the water with long poles.
A.t a bridge over the dry bed of a river near the town, I noticed a
gang of about fifty ferocious fellows, in ragged sarapes. Several
soldiers, well armed, paced up and down the road, and I after-
wards learned that the diligence was frequently robbed thero. Two
long posts down the valley, made with horses going a carrera^
brought us to Silao. While the grooms were changing teams, we
supplied ourselves with oranges, bananas, zapotes cAicos and
granaditas de China. The latter fruit is about the size of an
egg, with a brittle shell of a bright scarlet color, inside of which
U a soft white sack. Breaking this open, the tender, fragrant
pulp is revealed the most dainty, exquisite thing that Nature ever
flompounded. We also bought an armful of sugar-cane, which we
hung on the umbrella-hooks, and chopped up and chewed aa
thirst required
From Silao to Guanajuato is but one post. Leaving the fornxa
place, we approached a cape of the mountains, and ti'avclcd foi
several miles over wild bills covered with immense cactus trees,
tLc trunks of many of them measuring two feet in diameter. From
the summit we looked down into a large mountain-basin, opening
tovrards the south into the Valley of Leon. On its opposite tide,
anrjng \ountains whose summits arc the more sterile from the
glittering veins of precious ore within, we saw the walls of some ot
the mining establishments of Guanajuato.
Of all places in Mexico, the situation of this city is the most
picturesque and remarkable. It lies like an enchanted city,
buried in the heart of the mountains. Entering a rocky cauada.
the bottom of which barely affords room for the road, you pass
between high adobe walls, above which, up the steep, rise tier
above tier of blank, windowlcss, sun-dried housen, looking as if
they had grown out of the earth. You would take them to be a
sort of cubic chrystalization of the soil. Every corner in the wind-
ings of the road is filled with the buildings of mining companies
huge fortresses of stone, ramparted as if for defence. The scene
varies with every moment ; now you look up to a church with
purple dome and painted towers ; now the blank ad&bc walls, with
here and there a spiry cypress or graceful palm between them.
rLsc far above you, along the steep ledges of the mountain ; and
again, the mountain itself, with its waste of rock and cactus, is all
you see. The Canada finally seems to close. A precipice of
rock out of a rift in which the stream flows shuts up the pas-
sage. Ascending this by a twist in the road, you are in the hear*,
of the city. Lying partly in the narrow bed of the ravine and
parlly on its sides and in its lateral branches, it is only by mount-
ing to some higher eminence that one can realize its extent and
position At the farther end of the city the mountains form a
GUANAJUATO AND ITS MINES. 389
cul dc sac. The caiiada is a blind passage, and you can onlj
leave it by the road you came. The streets arc narrow, crooked,
and run up and down in all directions ; there is no room foi
plazas nor alamodas. A little triangular space in front of tbf
calhodral, however, aspires to the former title. The city reminded
IP? of descriptions of the old Moorish towns of Spain not as they
now exist, but as they stood in the fourteenth century.
In the afternoon I took a walk through the city, climbing one
of the hills to a cross planted on a small rocky point under the
fortress of San Miguel. Thence I could look down on the twisted
streets and flat house-tops, and the busy flood of life circulating
through all. The churches, with their painted spires and domes,
gave a bizarre and picturesque character to the scene. Off to tho
north, in the sides of the mountains, I could sec the entrances to
the silver mines, and the villages of the mining communities
Around Guanajuato there are more than a hundred mines, cm
ploying about seventy-five thousand workmen. The business of
Guanajuato is now very flourishing, the mines having in 1S49
yielded $8,400,000, or $600,000 more than the previous year.
New mines have been opened on the rich vein of La Luz, which
will soon be in a producing state, and promise much higher results.
There is a fascination about the business, which is almost equal to
that of play. The lucky discoverer of a new mine will frcquentlj
squander away the sudden wealth he has acquired in a week's dis-
ipation. The wages of the common workmen vary from foul
reals to two dollars a day.
Before night I visited the cathedral and the churches of San
Diego and San Felipe the latter a dark old structure, covered
with quaint, half-Gothic ornatacnts, its front shaded by several
wll cypresses In tho church of San Diego, I saw a picture d
390 ELDORADO.
ercat beauty, of the Murillo school, but hardly, I think, an on
ginol of the renowned master of Spanish painting. After dinner
while wandering about, looking at the fruit-stands, which were
lighted with a red glow by smoky torches, I witnessed a curiou?
ceremony. One of a band of robbers, who had been taken and
convicted, was to be shot the next morning. All the bells in the
city commenced tolling at sunset, and the incessant ding-dong
they kept up for nearly two hours, was enough to drive one fran
tic. I heard the sound of music, and saw the twinkling of wax
topers ; I therefore pressed through the crowd into the middle of
.he little plaza, to obtain a good view of the procession. First
eame a company of soldiers, with a military band, playing dirges ,
ifter this the Bishop of the city bearing the Host, under a canopy
)f white and silver, borne by priests, who also carried lanterns of
blue glass ; another company of soldiers followed, and after them
long double line of citizens, each of whom held an immense
turning taper in his hand. With the clang of bells and the wail
)f brazen instruments, they came towards us. The thousands in
the plaza dropped on their knees, leaving me standing alone in tho
centre. A moment's reflection convinced me of the propriety oi
following their example, so I sank down between a woman with a
ery dirty rebosa and a black-bearded fellow, who might have been
the comrade of the condemned robber.
The procession, keeping a slow and measured pace, proceeded
lo the prison, where the sacrament of extreme unction was sdmin
Istcred to the criminal. It then returned to the cathedral, which
was brilliantly lighted, and filled with a dense throng of people
The military band was stationed in the centre, under the dome,
ind mingled its harmonies with those of the powerful organ. I
could get no furtho: than tho door-way, whenco the whole intcrioi
IHE EVE of A ROBBER'S DEATH. 391
was visible as a lighted picture, framed in the gloomy arch tindei
which I stood. The rise and swell of the choral voices the deep,
stunning peal of the bells in the tower the solemn attitude of the
crowd, and the blaze of light under which all these imposing cere
monies were seen made a powerful impression on mo. Th
people about me constantly repeated their paternosters, and
seemed to feel a deep sympathy with the convicted. I remem-
bered, that in the afternoon I had seen in the cathedral a man
somewhat advanced in years, who was praying with an intensity ol
grief and supplication that made him for the time insensible to all
else. His sobs and groans were so violent as to shake his whole
frame ; I had never seen a more vehement expression of anguish.
Thinking he might have been the robber's father, I began to have
some compassion for the former, though now and then a wicked
feeling of rejoicing would steal in, that another of the tribe was
soon to be exterminated. The most curious feature of the scene
was a company of small boys, carrying bundles of leaves on which
?ras printed the " Last Dying Speech and Confession," in poetry,
the burden being " Adios^ Guanajuato amado /" These boys
were scattered through the crowd, crying out : " Here you have
my sentence, my confession, my death, my farewell to Guanajuato
all for a cuartilla ." The exercises were kept up so long, that
finally I grew weary, and went to bed, where the incessant bells
rang death-knells in my dreams.
In Guanajuato I tasted pulque for the first and last time.
Seeing a woman at the corner of a street with several large jars 01
what I took to be barley-water, I purchased a glass. I can only
jken the taste of this beverage to a distillation of sour milk (if
there could be such a thing) strongly tinctured with cayenne pep
oer and hartshorn. Men were going about the streets with cans
ELDORADO.
on their heads, containing ices made from tropical fruits, which
were much more palatable.
They even have authors in Guanajuato. On the theatre bills T
eaw the announcement that an original tragedy entitled " E
Amor Conjugal," by a young Guanajuatensc, was in preparation
* The precious comedy of the Two Fcrnandos and tic Two Pe-
pas" was to be given as an afterpiece probably a travesty of the
" Comedy of Errors."
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
EIVIDINCJ RIDGE, AND DESCENT INTO THE V A LI IT 01
MEXICO.
WE were roused in Guanajuato at three o'clock in the morning
for the Jornada of one hundred and ten miles to Qucrctaro. A
splendid moon was riding near the zenith, with her attendant star
at her side ; and by her light we drove down the ominous depths
of the Canada. The clumsy leaves of the cactus, along the ledges
of the hills, seemed in the uncertain light, like the heads of robbers
peering over the rocks; 'the crosses of the dead, here and there,
spread out their black arms, and we were not free from all ap-
prehensions of attack, until, after a post of three leagues, we
reached the level and secure land of the Bajio. Once, only, a
company of about twenty wild-looking men, whose weapons glit-
tered in the moonlight, hooted at us as we passed ; we took them
to be a part of the robber-band, on their way to Guanajuato to
witness the execution of their comrade.
In five posts we reached the city of Salamanca, where break-
fast was already on the table. No sooner had the final dish of fit-
joles and cup of coffee been dispatched, th?n the cochf.ro summoned
us. The mozo drew away with a jerk the rope which held the
four leaders ; the horses plunged and pranced till the lumbering
masa of the diligence began to move, when they set of in a furious
394 ELDORADO.
gallop. For ten miles, over the level road, the speed was scarcely
slackened, till we drew up at the next post, and exchanged out
dusty and reeking steeds for a fresh team, as fiery and furious ap
the first.
The country through which we passed, is one of the richest
regions in Mexico. It is called the Bajio^ or Lowland, but is ir
fact an extent of table-land, about four thousand feet above the
level of the sea, and only lower than the mountain-ridges which
enclose it and draw from the upper clouds the streams that jyive
it perpetual growth. From the city of Leon, near Lagos, it ex-
tends to San Juan del Rio, beyond Queretaro a distance of
nearly two hundred miles. It is traversed by the Rio Lerma, the
stream which, rising in the Volcano of Toluca (the neighbor of
Popocatapetl) mingles with the waters of Lake Chapala, and after-
wards first as the Rio Blanco and then as the Rio Santiago
rinds its way into the Pacific at San Bias. This immense level is
nil under fine cultivation and covered with thousand-acre fields of
Vheat, maize and barley in different stages of growth. The white
fronts of haciendas gleamed from out their embowering gardens,
in the distance, and the spires of the country towus, rising at in-
tervals, gave life and animation to the picture. In the afternoon
we passed the city of Zelaya, nearly smothered in clouds of dust
that rose from the dry soil
As we reached the boundary of the State of Queretaro, eight
lancers, armed likewise with escopettes and holster-pistols, gal-
loped out of the cactus on a wild, stony hill, and took their places
3n each side of us. They constituted a military escort (at the
expense of the passengers,) to the gates of Queretaro. With theii
red pennons fluttering in the wind and their rugged little horaea
spurred into a gallop, they were very picturesque objects Oui
A GAY PADRE. 395
time was divided in watching their movements and looking out foi
the poles planted by the roadside as a sign that roblcrs had been
taken and shot there. My Mexican fellow-travelers pointed tc
these tokens of unscrupulous punishment with evident satisfac-
tion. A large tree near Queretaro, with a great many lateral
branches, bears a sign with the words " POT Ladroncs," (For
Robbers,) in large letters. It is probably used when a whole
company is caught at once.
We drove into Queretaro after dark, and the only glimpse I had
of the place was from the balcony of the hotel. I regretted not
having arrived earlier, for the purpose of visiting the cotton manu-
factory of Don Gaetano Rubio, which is the largest in the Repub-
lic. Among the passengers in the diligence from Mexico, who
joined us at the dinner-table, was a jovial padre, who talked con-
stantly of the Monplaisir troupe of dancers and Cocnen, the
violinist. In fact, he was more familiar with American and Euro-
pean theatricals than any one I had met for a long time, and
gave me a ready account of the whereabouts of Ccrito, Ellsler,
Taglioni, and all the other divinities of the dance. He then com-
menced a dissertation upon the character of the different modern
languages. The English, he said, was the language of commerce ;
the French, of conversation ; tLe German, of diplomacy, because
there were no words of double meaning in it ! and the Spanish,
of devotion. With his conversation and delightful cigaritos, 1
passed the hour before bed-time very pleasantly. I never met
more lively and entertaining padre.
We drove to the town of San Juan del Rio, eleven leagues dis-
tant, for breakfast. A fresh escort was given us at every post,
lor which a fresh contribution of two reals was levied on each pas
eengcr. Towards evening, leaving the Bajio, we came upon I
ELDORADO.
largo, arid llano, flat as a table, and lying at the foot of the
Mount of Capulalpan. A string of males, carrying stone from the
mountains, stretched across it, till they almost vanished in the
perspective. One by one they came up out of the distance, emp-
tied the stones, which were heaped upon their backs in rougt
wicker frames, and turned about to repeat the journey. They
belonged to the estate of Seiior Zurutuza, proprietor of the dili-
gence lines of Mexico, who shows as much prudence and skill in
the cultivation of his lands as in the arrangement of his stages
and hotels. The estate vrhich he purchased of the Mexican
Government, at a cost of $300,000, contains thirty-seven square
bagucs, nearly all of which is arable land. The buildings stand
in a little valley, nine thousand feet above the sea. The principal
storehouse is two hundred feet square, and solid as a fortress. An
arched entrance, closed by massive gates, Jeads to a paved court-
yard, around which runs a lofty gallery, with pillars of oak resting
on blocks of lava. Under this shelter were stored immense piles
of wheat and chopped straw. On the outside, a number of per-
sons were employed in removing the grain from a large circular
floor of masonry, \vhere it had been trodden out by mules, and
separating it from the chaff by tossing it diligently in the wind.
The hotel for the accommodation of travelers, is a new and ele-
gant structure, and a decided improvement on other buildings of
the kind in Mexico.
We slept soundly hi the several rooms allotted to us, and by
daybreak next morning were on the summit of the Pass of Capu-
ialpan, about eleven thousand feet above the sea. The air waa
thin and cold ; the timber was principally oak, of a stunted and
hardy kind, and the general appearance of the place is desolate in
the extreme. Here, where the streams of the two oceans arc
APPROACHING MEXICO. 397
divided, the first view of Popocatapctl, at more than a h indrcd
miles distance, greets the traveler. A descent of many miles
through splendid plantations, lying in the lap of the mountains
brought us to the old town of Tula, on the banks of the Tul
River, which empties into the Gulf, at Tampico. Here we break-
fasted, and then started on our hist stage towards the capital
Crossing a low range of hills, we reached the Dcsa<ma, an immense
canal, cut for the draining of the Valley of Mexico. The after-
noon was hot and breezclcss ; clouds of dust enveloped and almost
etiflcd us, rising as they rolled away till they looked like slendei
pillars, swayed from side to side by the vibrations of the air. We
passed the towns of Guatitlan and Tanepantla, where we only
stopped to get a drink of lepac/te, a most nourishing and refresh-
ing beverage, compounded of parched corn, pineapple, and sugar
The road was hedged by immense aloes, some of which had leaves
ten feet in length : they arc cultivated in great quantities for the
pulque, which is manufactured from their juice. A few hours ol
this travel, on the level floor of the Valley of Mexico, brought us
to the suburbs, where we met scores of people in carriages and on
horseback, going out to take their evening paseo around the Ala-
mcda. Rattling over the streets of the spacious capital, in a few
minutes we were brought to a stand in the yard of the Casa de
Diligcncias.
A few minutes after my arrival, the Vcra Cruz stage drove into
the yard. The first person who jumped out was my friend Mr
Parrot, U. S. Consul at Mazatlan. Gov. Letcher, our Envoy to
Mexico, came in the same stage, but was met at the Pcfion Grande
by a number of Americans in carriages, and brought into the city
It is a pleasant thing to have friends of your own size. I made
my first appearance in the City of the Montezumas covered with
898 ELDORADO.
dust and clad in the weather-beaten corduroys, \vhich were all thf
robbers left me. Thanks to the kind offer of Mr. Parrot and Mr
Peyton, who accompanied him, I sat down to dinner in half an
hour afterwards, looking and feeling much more like a
of civilized society
CHAPTER XXXH.
SCENES IN THE MEXICAN CAPITAL.
I SALLIED out, on the bright sunny morning after reaching
Mexico, to make a survey of the city. The sky was cloudlet
except on the horizon, in the direction of Popocatapetl, and thfc
air was charmingly cool and fresh. Its rarity, by accelerating the
breathing, had a stimulating effect, but I found that a faster pace
than ordinary exhausted me in a few minutes. Most of the shops
were closed, and the people from the neighboring villages began
to come in for the morning mass. The streets are broad, tolerably
clean, and have an air of solidity and massive strength beyond
that of any modern city. The houses are all of stone, with few
windows on the streets, but an arched gateway in the centre,
leading to a patio, or courtyard, where the only correct view of
their size and magnificence may be obtained. The glimpses
through these gateways, while passing, are often very beauti-
ful the richly-sculptured frame of stone enclosing a sunny pic-
ture of a fountain, a cluster of orange-trees, or the slender, grace-
fill arches of the corridor. The buildings are painted of some
light, fresh color, pink and white being predominant ; some ol
them, indeed, are entirely covered with arabesque patterns in
fresco. Tho streets run at right angles, with nearly Philadelphia!?
lOO ELDORADO.
regularity, but the system of naming them is very confusing to t
stranger. A name extends no farther than a single block, the
same street having sometimes as many as twenty different names
in different places. Thus, while there are several thousand names
of streets in the city, (all of them long and difficult to rcmcnilicr)
the actual number of streets is small.
I wandered about for some tune, looking for the Grand Plaza,
and at last fell into the wake of the mass-going crowd, as the
surest way to find it. It is in the very centre of the city, though
the business quarter lies almost entirely on the western side. It
is one of the most imposing squares in the world, and still far in
ferior to what it might be made. It covers about fourteen acres,
which are entirely open and unbroken, except by a double row of
orange-trees in front of the Cathedral. The splendid equestrian
statue of' Charles IV. by the sculptor Tolsa, which formerly
stood in the centre, has been removed since the war of Independ-
ence, and the Government has never been able to replace it by
something more to its republican taste. The National Palace,
with a front of five hundred feet, occupies nearly the entire eastern
side of the plaza, while the Cathedral, with a church adjoining,
Ells the northern. Around the other sides runs a cortal, whose
arches arc nearly blocked up by the wares and gay fabrics there
disposed for sale. One of the houses forming this cortal was built
' y Ccrtcz, and is still owned by his descendants. As iu our own
cities, there is a row of hacks strung along one side of the plaza,
lie drivers of which assail you with continual invitations to ride.
The Cathedral is grand and impressive from its very size, but
the effect of the front is greatly injured by its incongruous style ol
architecture. TTcrc seems to have been no single design adopted,
but after half had been built, the arcliitcct changed his plan aud
INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDHAL. 401
{misted the remainder in a different slylo. The front, as high a?
the Ctif hcdral roof, has a venerable appearance of age and neglect,
while the t\vo massive, square, unadorned towers rising from it
arc as brilliantly white and fresh as if erected yesterday. The
front of the church adjoining is embossed with very elaborate or-
naments of sculpture, all showing the same disregard of architec-
tural unity. The interior of the Cathedral is far more perfect in
its structure. The nave, resting its lofty arch on pillars of a
semi-Gothic character, with the gorgeous pile of the high-altar at
its extremity, blazing with gold and silver and precious marbles,
looks truly sublime in the dim, subdued light which fills it. Tht
railing around the altar is solid silver, as well as the lamps which
burn before it. In the shrines along the side aisles there arc many
paintings of fine character, but everywhere the same flash of gold
and appearance of lavish treasure. The Cathedral was crowded
to the very door by a throng of ranchcros, Indians, stately ladies
in silks and jewels, soldiers and hperos, kneeling side by side.
Tne sound of the organ, bearing on its full- flood the blended
voices of the choir, pealed magnificently through the nave. There
were some very fine voices among the singers, but their perform
ancc was wanting in the grand and perfect unison which distin
guishcs the Italian chorus.
In the afternoon, there was a great fair or festival at Tacu
baya, and half the population of the city went out to attend it
Tho stages in front of the Diligence Hotel, which bore the in-
scription on their sides : " A Taculaya, par 2 realcs," were
jammed with passengers. I preferred a quiet walk in the Ala-
mcda to a suffocating ride in the heat and dust, and so did raj
friend, Peyton. The Alamcda is a charming place, completely
shaded by tall trees, and musical with the plash of fountains.
102 ELDORADO.
Through its long avenues of foliage, the gay equipages 'f tht
aristocracy may be seen rolling to and from the paseo President
Herrera, in a light, open carriage, followed by a guard of honor,
among them. We roamed through the cool, shaded walks, find-
ing sufficient amusement in the curious groups and characters we
constantly met until the afternoon shadows grew long and the sun
had nearly touched the Nevada of Toluca. Then, joining the in-
creasing crowd, we followed the string of carriages past a guard-
house where a company of trumpeters shattered all the surround-
ing air by incessant prolonged blasts, that nearly tore up the
paving-stones. A beautiful road, planted with trees, and flanked
by convenient stone benches, extended beyond for about a mile,
having a circle at its further end, around which the carriages
passed, and took their stations in the return line. We sat down
on one of the benches facing the ring, enjoying the tranquillity of
the sunset and the animation of the scene before us. The towers
of Mexico rose behind us, above the gardens which bolt the city ;
the rock of Chapultepec was just visible in front, and far to the
south-east, a snowy glimmer, out of the midst of a pile of clouds,
revealed the cone of Popocatapetl. Among the equipages were
some of great magnificence : that of Don Gaetano Rubio was
perhaps the most costly. Large American horses are in great
demand for these displays, and a thousand dollars a pair is fre-
quently paid for them. The mixture of imported vehicles Eng-
lish, French and American with the bomb-proof arks and move-
able fortifications of the country, was very amusing, though theii
contrast was not more marked than that of the occupants. The
great ambition of a Mexican family is to ride in a carriage on all
public occasions, and there arc hundreds who starve themselves
SMOKING IN THE THEATRE. 403
on tortillas and deny themselves every comfort but the cigarito
that they may pay the necessary hire.
I went one evening to the Teatro de Santa Anna, which is on
of the finest theatres in the world. On this occasion, the per
forinance might have honorably stood the ordeal of even Paris
criticism There was a ballet by the Monplaisir troupe, songs by
the prima donna of the native opera and violin solos by Frani
Coenen. The theatre is very large, having, if I remember rightly,
five tiers of boxes, yet it was crowded hi every part. There was
a great display of costly dresses and jewelry, but I saw much less
beauty than on the moonlit plaza of Guadalajara. The tendency
of the Mexican women to corpulency very soon destroys the bloom
and graces of youth ; indeed, their season of beauty is even more
brief than in the United States. Between the acts the spectators
invariably fell to smoking. The gentlemen lit their puros, the
ladies produced their delicate boxes of cigaritos and their matches,
and for some minutes after the curtain fell, there was a continual
snapping and fizzing of brimstone all over the house. By the time
the curtain was ready to rise, the air was sensibly obscured, and
the chandeliers glimmered through a blue haze. At home, this
habit of smoking by the ladies is rather graceful and pretty ; the
fine paper cigar is handled with an elegance that shows off the
little arts and courtesies of Spanish character, with the same effed
as a fan or a bouquet ; but a whole congregation of women smok
Ing together, I must admit, did take away much of the reverence
with which we are wont to regard the sex. Because a lady may
be a Juno in beauty, is no reason why she should thus retire intc
a cloud nor is the odor of stale tobacco particularly Olympian.
The streets of Mexico are always ac interesting study. Ever
404 ELDORADO.
after visiting the other large cities of the Republic, one is here in
troduced to new and interesting types of Mexican humanity
Faces of the pure Aztec blood are still to be found in the squarei
and market-places, and the canal which joins Lakes Chalco and
Tezcuco is filled with their flat canoes, laden with fruits, vegetable*
and flowers. They have degenerated in everything but their hos-
tility to the Spanish race, which is almost as strong as hi the dap
of Montezuma. The leperos constitute another and still more dis-
gusting class ; no part of the city is free from them. They im-
plore you for alms with bended knees and clasped hands, at every
turn ; they 'pick your pockets in broad daylight, or snatch away
your cloak if there is a good opportunity ; and if it be an object
with any one to have you removed from this sphere of being, they
will murder you for a small consideration. The second night T
spent in Mexico, my pocket was picked in the act of passing a
corner where two or three of them were standing in a group. I
discovered the loss before I had gone ten steps further ; but>
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 ma<h a
short night-stroll through the city. The wind was blowing s/.rong
and cold from the mountains, whistling under the arches of the
cortal and flaring the red torches that burned in the market-place
The fruit-sellers, nevertheless, kept at their posts, exchanging
jokes occasionally with a masked figure in some nondescript cos-
tume. I found shelter from the wind, at last, in a grand old
church, near the plaza. The interior was brilliantly lighted, and
the floor covered by kneeling figures. There was nothing in the
church itself, except its vastness and dimness, to interest me ; bu 4
the choral music I there heard was not to be described. A
choir of boyp. alternating with one of rich masculine voices, over-
ran the full peal of the organ, and filled the aisle with delicious
harmony. There was a single voice, which seemed to come out
of the au , in the pauses of the choral, and send its clear, trumpet-
tones directly to the heart. As long as the exercises continued, I
stood by the door, completely chained by those divine sounds.
The incense finally faded ; the tapers were put out one by one ;
the worshippers arose, took another dip in the basin of holy water,
and retired : and I, too, went back to the hotel, and tried to keep
warm under cover of a single sarape.
The manufactures of Puebla are becoming important to Mexi<*
PUEBLA. 429
the moi e so, from the comparative liberality which is now exer-
cised towards foreigners. A few years ago, I was informed, a
stranger was liable to be insulted, if not assaulted, in the streets
but, latterly, this prejudice is vanishing. The table-land around
the city is probably one of the finest grain countries in the world
Under a proper administration of Government, Pucbla might be
come the first manufacturing town in Mexico
CHAPTER XLffl.
GLIMPSES OF PURGATORY AND PARADISE.
RISING before three o'clock is no pleasant thing, on the high
table-land of Puebla, especially when one has to face the cold
from the foretop of a diligence ; but I contrived to cheat the early
travel of its annoyance, by looking backward to Popocatapetl, which
rose cold and unclouded in the morning twilight. We sped over
fertile plains, past the foot of Malinche, and met the sunrise at the
town of Amozoque, another noted robber-hold. In the arroyoa
which cross the road at its eastern gate a fight took place between
the advanced guard of the American army and a body of Mexican
soldiers, on the march to the capital.
From Amozoque the plain ascends, with a scarcely perceptible
rise, to the summit of the dividing ridge, beyond Perote. The
clouds, which had gathered again by this time, hid from our view
the mountain barriers of the table-land, to the east and west
The second post brought us to Acajete, whose white dome and
towers we saw long before reaching it, projected brightly against
the pines of a steep mountain behind. One is only allowed time
at the posts to stretch his legs and light a cigar. The horses or
moles, as the case may be are always in readiness, and woe to the
PURGATORY. 43]
unlucky traveler who itands a hundred yards from the diligence
when the rope is drawn away from the ramping leaders.
The insular mountain of Acajete shelters a gang of robbert
among its ravines, and the road, bending to the .eft around iu
base, is hedged with ambush of the most convenient kind. The
driver pointed out to me a spot in the thicket where one of the
gang was shot not long before. Half-way up the acclivity, a
thread of blue smoke rose through the trees, apparently from
some hut or camp on a little shelf at the foot of a precipice.
Further than this, we saw nothing which seemed to denote their
propinquity. The pass was cleared, the horses changed at El
Final a large hacienda on the north side of the mountain and
we dashed on till nearly noon, when the spires of Nopaluca ap-
peared behind a distant hill the welcome heralds of breakfast !
Beyond this point, where a trail branches off to Orizaba, tho
character of the scenery is entirely changed. We saw no longer
the green wheat-plains and stately haciendas of Puebla. The
road passed over an immense llano, covered with short, brown
grass, and swept by a furious wind. To the north, occasional
peaks barren, rocky and desolate in their appearance, rose at
a short distance from our path. On the other hand, the llano
stretched away for many a league, forming a horizon to the eye
before it reached the foot of the mountains. The wind frequently
increased to such a pitch that all trace of the landscape was lost.
Columns of dust, rising side by side from the plain, mingled as
they whirled along, shrouding us as completely as a Newfoundland
^)g. The sun was at times totally darkened. My eyes, which
were strongly blood-shotten, from too much gazing at the snows ol
Popocatapetl, were severely affected by this hurricane. But there
is no evil without some accompanying good ; and the fame wind
4'J2 ELDORADO.
which nearly svifled me with dust, at last brushed away the cloud*
from the smooth, gradual outline of Cofre de Perote, and revealed
the shining head of Orizaba.
Beyond La Venta de Soto, the roal skirts a striking peak c!
rock, whose outline is nearly that of an exact pyramid, several
thousand feet hi height. The mozo called it Monte Pizarro
From its dark ravines the robbers frequently sally, to attack tra-
velers on the plain. At some distance from the road, I noticed
a mounted guard who followed us till relieved by another, planted
at short intervals. As the sunset came on, we reached a savage
volcanic region, where the only vegetation scattered over the ridgy
beds of black lava, was the yucca and the bristly cactus. There
vere no inhabitants ; some huts, here and there, stood in ruins ;
and the solitary guard, moving like a shadow over the lava hills,
only added to the loneliness and increased the impression of dan-
ger. I have seen many wild and bleak spots, but none so abso-
lutely Tartarean in its aspect. There was no softer transition oi
scene to break the feeling it occasioned, for the nightfall deepened
as we advanced, leaving everything in dusky shadow, but the vast
bulk of Cofre de Perote, which loomed between me and the southern
stars. At last, lights glimmered ahead ; we passed down a street
lined with miserable houses, across a narrow and dirty plaza, and
into a cramped court-yard. The worst dinner we ate on the
whole journey was being prepared in the most cheerless of rooms
This was Perote.
I went out to walk after dinner, but did not go far. The
squalid look cf the houses, and the villanous expression of the
faces, seen by the light of a few starving lamps, offered nothing
attractive, and the wind by this tune was more piercing than ever.
Perote bears a bad reputation in every respect : its situation if
*HE EDGE OP THE TABLE-LAND. 438
the Weakest in Mexico, and its people the most shameless in then
depredations. The diligence is frequently robbed at the very gates
of the town. We slept with another blanket on our beds, and
found the addition of our sarapes still desirable. The mozo awoke
us at half-past two, to coffee and chocolate in the cold. I climbed
into the pescante and drew the canvas cover of the top around
my shoulders. The driver an American, who had been twenty
years on the road gave the word of starting, and let his eight
mules have full rein. Five lancers accompanied us two some
distance in advance, one on each side and one bringing up the
rear. The stars shone with a frosty lustre, looking larger and
brighter in the thin air. We journeyed for two hours in a hall
darkness, which nevertheless permitted me to see that the country
^as worth little notice by daylight a bleak region, ten thousand
*eet above the sea, and very sparsely inhabited.
About sunrise we reached the summit of the pass, and com-
menced descending through scattering pine woods. The declivity
fas at first gradual, but when we had passed the bevelled slope of
he summit ridge, our road lay along the very brink of the mountains
overlooking everything that lay between them and the Gulf of
Mexico. Immediately north of the pass, the mountain chain turns
jastward, running towards the Gulf in parallel ridges, on the sum-
mits of which we looked down. The beds of the valleys, wild,
broken, and buried in a wilderness but little visited, were lost in
the dense air, which filled them like a vapor. Beginning at th
region cf lava and stunted pine, the eye travels downward, from
summit to summit of the ranges, catching, at intervals, glimpses
of gardens, green fields of grain, orange orchards, groves of palm
and gleaming towers, till at last it rests on the far-away glimmer
of the sea, under the morning sun Fancy yourself riding along
19
4:34 ELDORADO.
the ramparts of a fortress ten thousand feet in height, with all the
climates of the earth spread out below you, zone lying beyond zone,
and the whole bounded at the furthest horizon to which vision can
reach, by the illimitable sea ! Such is the view which meets one
on descending to Jalapa.
The road was broad and smooth, and our mules whirled us
downward on a rapid gallop. In half an hour from the time when
around us the hoar-frost was lying on black ridges of lava and
whitening the tips of the pine branches, we saw the orange and
banana, basking in the glow of a region where frost wai
unknown. We were now on the borders of paradise. Th(
streams, leaping down crystal-clear from the snows of Cofre dt-
Perote, fretted their way through tangles of roses and blossoming
vines ; the turf had a sheen like that of a new-cut emerald ; tht
mould, upturned for garden land, showed a velvety richness and
softness, and the palm, that true child of light, lifted its slendei
shaft and spread its majestic leaves against the serene blue ol
heaven. As we came out of the deep-sunken valleys on the brow
of a ridge facing the south, there stood, distinct and shadowless
from base to apex, the Mountain of Orizaba. It rose beyond
mountains so far off that all trace of chasm or ledge or belting
forest was folded in a veil of blue air, yet its grand, immaculate
cone, of perfect outline, was so white, so dazzling, so pure in its
frozen clearness, like that of an Arctic morn, that the eye lost its
sense of the airy gulf between, and it seemed that I might stretch
out my hand and touch it No peak among mountains can be
more sublime than Orizaba. Rising from the fevel of the sea and
the perpetual summer of the tropics, with an unbroken line to the
height of eighteen thousand feet, it stands singly above the other
ranges with its spotless crown f snow, as some giant, white-haired
PAKAD1SE 486
Northern king migut stand among a host of the weak, effeminate
sybarites of the South. Orizaba dwells alone in my memory, at
the only perfect type of a mountain to be found on the Earth.
After two leagues of this enchanting travel we came to Jalapa.
ft city of about twenty thousand inhabitants, on the slope of the
hills, half-way between the sea and the table-hind, overlooking tlie
one and dominated by the other. The streets arc as clean as a
Dutch cottage ; the one-story, tiled houses, sparkling in the sun,
we buried in gardens that rival the Hesperidcs. Two miles before
reaching the town the odor of its orange blossoms filled the air.
We descended its streets to the Diligence Hotel, at the bottom,
ivhere, on arriving, we found there would be no stage to Vera
Cruz for two days, so we gave ourselves up to the full enjoyment
of the spot. My fellow-passenger for Guanajuato, Don Antonio
de Campos, and myself, climbed into the tower of the hotel, and
sat down under its roof to enjoy the look-out. The whole land-
scape was like a garden. For leagues around the town it was one
constant alternation of field, grove and garden the fields of the
freshest green, the groves white with blossoms and ringing with the
ongs of birds, and the gardens loading the air with delicious per
fume. Stately haciendas were perched on the vernal slopes, and
in the fields ; on the roads and winding mule-paths of the hills we
saw everywhere a gay and light-hearted people. We passed the
whole afternoon in the tower ; the time went by like a single pul-
lation of 'delight. I felt, then, that there could be no greater hap-
piness than ic thus living forever, without a single thought bcyon
the enjoyment of the scene. My friend, Don Antonio, was busy
with old memories. Twenty years before, he came through Jalapa
for tho first time, an ardent, aspiring youth, thinking to achieve
hi* fortune in three or four years and return with it to his nativi
436 ELDORADO.
Portugal , but alas ! twenty years had barely sufficed for the fill
filmcnt of his dreams twenty years of toil among the barren
mountains of Guanajuato. Now, he said, all that time vanished
from his mind ; his boyish glimpse of Jalapa was his Yesterday
and the half-forgotten life of his early home lay close behind it.
After dinner, all our fellow-travelers set out for the Alameda,
which lies in a little valley at the foot of the town. A broad
paved walk, with benches of stone at the side and stone urns on
lofty pedestals at short intervals, leads to a bridge over a deep
chasm, where the little river plunges through a mesh of vines into
a large basin below. Beyond this bridge, a dozen foot-paths leaa
off to the groves and shaded glens, the haciendas and orango
orchards. The idlers of the town strolled back and forth, enjoying
the long twilight and balmy air. We were all in the most joyous
mood, and my fellow-passengers ofthree or four different nations
expressed their delight in as many tongues, with an amusing
contrast of exclamations : " Ah, que joli petit pays de Jalape /"
cried the little Frenchwoman, who had talked in a steady stream
since leaving Mexico, notwithstanding she was going to Franco on
account of delicate lungs. " Siente uste cl aroma de las naran-
fls?" asked a dark-eyed Andalusian. " Himmlische Luft! n -
exclaimed the enraptured German, unconsciously quoting Gota
von Berlichingcn. Don Antonio turned to me, saying in
English : " My puke is quicker and my blood warmer than for
twenty years ; I believe my youth is actually coming back again."
We talked thus till the stars came out and the perfumed air was cool
with invisible dew.
When we awoke the next morning it was raining, and continued
to rain all day not a slow, dreary drizzle, nor a torrent of heavy
drops, as rain comes to us, but a fine, ethereal, gauzy veil of moia-
RAIN 437
hire that scarcely stirred the grass on which it fell or shook the
light golden pollen from the orange flowers. Every two or three
days such a shower comes down on the soil of Jalapa
" a perpetual April to the ground,
Making it all one emerald."
Wo could not stroll among the gardens or sit under the urns of
tho Alameda, but the towers and halconics were left us ; the land-
scape, though faint and blurred by the filmy rain, was nearly a*
beautiful, and the perfume could not be washed out of the air
So passed the day, and with the night we betook ourselves early
to rest, for the Diligence was to leave at three o'clock on tho
morrow.
For two leagues after leaving Jalapa I smelt the orange blos-
soms in the starry morning, but when daylight glimmered on -the
distant Gulf, we were riding between bleak hills, covered with
p,happaral, having descended to the barren heats of the tropi-
cal winter, beyond the line of the mountain-gathered showers.
The road was rough and toilsome, but our driver, an intelligent
A.mcrican, knew every stone and rut in the dark and managed his
eight mules with an address and calculation which seemed to me
marvellous. He had been on the road six years, at a salary of
$150 per month, from the savings of which he had purchased a
Handsome little property in Jalapa. Don Juan, as the natives
called him, was a great>voritc 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<jain.
O O
She had not intended to relate the whole story, but onlj
BO much of it as was necessary for the Doctor's purposes;
but the commencement excited his curiosity, and he knew
so skilfully how to draw one word after another, suggesting
further explanations without directly asking them, thai
Mary Potter was led on and on, until she had communi-
cated all the particulars of her son's misfortune.
" This is a wonderful tale thee tells rue," said the Doc-
tor "wonderful ! Sandy Flash, no doubt, has reason to
remember thy son, who, I 'm told, faced him very boldly
on Second-day morning. It is really time the country was
aroused ; we shall hardly be safe in our own houses. And
all night in the Brandywine flood I don't wonder thy
son is unwell. Let me go up to him."
Dr. Deane's prescriptions usually conformed to the prac-
tice of his day, bleeding and big doses, and he woulu
undoubtedly have applied both of these in Gilbert's case,
but for the latter's great anxiety to be in the saddle and
on the hunt of his enemy. He stoutly refused to be bled,
and the Doctor had learned, from long observation, that
patients of a certain class must be humored rather than
coerced. So he administered a double dose of Dover's
Powders, and prohibited the drinking of cold water. His
report was, on the whole, reassuring to Mary Potter. Pro-
vided his directions were strictly followed, he said, her
son would be up in two or three days ; but there might be
a turn for the worse, as the shock to the system had been
very great, and she ought to have assistance.
" There 's no one I can call upon," said she, " without
it 's Betsy Lavender, and I must ask you to tell her foi
me, if you think she can come."
"I 'U oblige thee, certainly," the Doctor answered.
tf Betsy is with us, just now, and I don't doubt but she
can spare a day or two. She may be a little eadstrong
La her ways, but thee '11 fmd her a safe nurse."
THE STORY OF KENNETT. 25]
It was really not necessary, as the event proved. Rest
and warmth were what Gilbert most needed. But Dr
Deane always exaggerated his patient's condition a little,
in order that the credit of the latter's recovery might be
greater. The present case was a very welcome one, net
only because it enabled him to recite a most astonishing
narrative at second-hand, but also because it suggested a
condition far more dangerous than that which the patient
actually suffered. He was the first -person to bear the
news to Kennett Square, where it threw the village into a
state of great excitement, which rapidly spread over the
neighborhood.
He related it at his own tea-table that evening, to Mar-
tha and Miss Betsy Lavender. The former could with
difficulty conceal her agitation ; she turned red and pale,
until the Doctor finally remarked,
" Why, child, thee need n't be so frightened."
" Never mind ! " exclaimed Mi'3 Betsy, promptly coming
to the rescue, " it 's enough to frighten anybody. It fairly
makes me shiver in my shoes. If Alf. Barton had hu'
done his dooty like a man, this would n't ha' happened ! "
" I 've no doubt Alfred did the best he could, under the
circumstances," the Doctor sternly remarked.
" Fiddle-de-dee !" was Miss Betsy's contemptuous an-
swer. " He 's no more gizzard than a rabbit. But that 's
neither here nor there ; Mary Potter wants me to go down
and help, and go I will ! "
" Yes, I think thee might as well go down to- sorrow
morning, though I 'm in hopes the young man may bo
better, if he minds my directions," said the Doctor.
" To-morrow mornin' ? Why not next week ? When
help 's wanted, give it right away ; don't let the grass
grow under your feet, say I ! Good luck that I gcv up
Mendcnhall's homc-comin' over t' the Lion, or I would n't
ha' been here ; so another cup o* tea, Martha, and I 'm
offl"
252 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
Martha left the table at the same time, and followed
Mios Betsy up-stairs. Her eyes were full of tears, but she
did not tremble, and her voice came firm and clear.
" I am going with you," she said.
Miss Lavender whirled around and looked at her a
minute, without saying a word.
" I see you mean it, child. Don't think me hard or cruel,
for I know your feelin's as well as if they was mine ; but
all the same, I 've got to look ahead, and back'ards, and on
this side and that, and so lookin', and so judgin', accordin'
to my light, which a'n't all tied up in a napkin, what I 've
got to say is, and ag'in don't think me hard, it won't do !"
" Betsy," Martha Deane persisted, " a misfortune like
this brings my duty with it. Besides, he may be in great
dangei ; he may have got his death,"
" Don't begin talkin f that way," Miss Lavender inter-
rupted, " or you '11 put me out o' patience. I '11 say that
for your father, he 's always mortal concerned for a bad
case, Gilbert Potter or not ; and I can mostly tell the
heft of a sickness by the way he talks about it, so that 'a
settled ; and as to dooties, it 's very well and right, I don't
deny it, but never mind, all the same, I said before, the
whole thing 's a snarl, and I say it ag'in, and unless you Ve
got the end o' the ravellin's in your hand, the harder you
pull, the wuss you '11 make it ! "
There was good sense in these words, and Martha Deane
felt it. Her resolution began to waver, in spite of the
tender instinct which told her that Gilbert Potter now
needed precisely the help and encouragement which she
alone could give.
"Oh, Betsy," she murmured, her tears falling without
restraint, " it 's hard for me to seem so strange to him, at
such a time ! "
"Yes," answered the spinster, setting her comb tight
with a fierce thrust, " it 's hard every one of us can't have
our own ways in this world ! But don't take on now, Mar-
THE STORY OF KENNETT.
tha dear; we only have your father's word, and not to b
called a friend's, but I'll see how the land lays, and to-
morrow evenin', or next day at th' outside, you '11 know
everything fair and square. Neither you nor Gilbert is
inclined to do things rash, and what you both agree on,
after a proper understanding I guess '11 be pretty nigh
right There ! where 's my knittin'-basket ? "
Miss Lavender trudged off, utterly fearless of the night
walk of two miles, down the lonely road. In less than an
hour she knocked at the door of the farm-house, and was
received with open arms by Mary Potter. Gilbert had
slept the greater part of the day, but was now awake, and
so restless, from the desire to leave his bed, that his mother
could with difficulty restrain him.
" Set down and rest yourself, Mary ! " Miss Betsy ear-
claimed. " I '11 go up and put him to rights."
She took a lamp and mounted to the bed-room. Gil-
bert, drenched in perspiration, and tossing uneasily under
a huge pile of blankets, sprang up as her gaunt figure en-
tered the door. She placed the lamp on a table, pressed
him down on the pillow by main force, and covered him
up to the chin.
" Martha ? " he whispered, his face full of intense, piteous
eagerness.
" Will you promise to lay still and sweat, as you 're told
to do ? "
Yes, yes !
" Now let me feel your pulse. That '11 do ; now for your
tongue ! Tut, tut ! the boy 's not so bad. I give you my
word you may get up and dress yourself to-morrow mornin',
if you '11 only hold out to-night. And as for thorough-stem
tea, and what not, I guess you 've had enough of 'em ;
but you can't jump out of a sick-spell into downright peart-
ness, at one jump ! "
" Martha, Martha ! " Gilbert urged
" You 're both of a piece, I declare ! There was she,
254 THE STORY OF KENNETT
this very night, dead set on comin' down with me, and
mortal hard it was to persuade her to he reasonable ! "
Miss Lavender had not a great deal to relate, hut Gil
bert compelled her to make up by repetition what she
lacked in quantity. And at every repetition the soreness
seemed to decrease in his body, and the weakness in his
muscles, and hope and courage to increase in his heart
"Tell her," he exclaimed, "it was enough that she
wanted to come. That alone has put new life into me ! "
" I see it has," said Miss Lavender, " and now, maybe,
yon 've got life enough to tell me all the ups and downs o'
this affair, for I can't say as I rightly understand it."
The conference was long and important. Gilbert re-
lated every circumstance of his adventure, including the
mysterious allusion to Alfred Barton, which he had con-
cealed from his mother. He was determined, as his first
course, to call the volunteers together and organize a
thorough hunt for the highwayman. Until that had been
tried, he would postpone all further plans of action. Miss
Lavender did not say much, except to encourage him in
this determination. She felt that there was grave matter
for reflection in what had happened. The threads of mys-
tery seemed to increase, and she imagined it possible that
they might all converge to one unknown point.
" Mary," she said, when she descended to the kitchen,
" I don't see but what the boy 's goin' on finely. Go to
bed, you, and sleep quietly ; I '11 take the settle, here, and
I promise you I '11 go up every hour through the night, to
see whether he 's kicked his coverin's off."
Which promise she faithfully kept, and in the morning
Gilbert came down to breakfast, a little haggard, but ap-
parcntly as sound as ever. Even the Doctor, when he
arrived, was slightly surprised at the rapid improvement.
" A fine constitution for medicines to work on," he re-
marked. u 1 would n't wish thee to be sick, but when thee
is, it 's a pleasure to see how thy system obeys the treat-
ment."
THE STORY OF KENNETT. 255
Martha Dcane, during Miss Lavender's absence, had
again discussed, in her heart, her duty to Gilbert. Her
conscience was hardly satisfied with the relinquishmeut
of her first impulse. She felt that there was, there must
be, something for her to do in this emergency. She knew
that he had toiled, and dared, and suffered for her sake,
while she had done nothing. It was not pride, at least
not the haughty quality which bears an obligation uneasily,
but rather the impulse, at once brave and tender, to
stand side by side with him in the struggle, and win an
equal right to the final blessing.
In the afternoon Miss Lavender returned, and her first
business was to give a faithful report of Gilbert's condition
and the true story of his misfortune, which she repeated,
almost word for word, as it came from his lips. It did
not differ materially from that which Martha had already
heard, and the direction which her thoughts had taken, in
the mean time, seemed to be confirmed. The gentle,
steady strength of purpose that looked from her clear blue
eyes, and expressed itself in the firm, sharp curve of her
lip, was never more distinct than when she said,
" Now, Betsy, all is clear to me. You were right before,
and I am right now. I must see Gilbert when he calls
the men together, and after that I shall know how to act."
Three days afterwards, there was another assemblage of
the Kennett Volunteers at the Unicorn Tavern. This
time, however, Mark Deane was on hand, and Alfred
Barton did not make his appearance. That Gilbert Pot-
ter should take the command was an understood matter.
The preliminary consultation was secretly held, and when
Dougherty, the Irish ostler, mixed himself, as by accident,
among the troop, Gilbert sharply ordered him away.
Whatever the plan of the chase was, it was not communi-
cated to the crowd of country idlers ; and there was, in
consequence, some grumbling at, and a great deal of re-
spect for, the new arrangement.
256 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
Miss Betsy Lavender had managed to speak to Gilbert
before the others arrived ; therefore, after they had left, to
meet the next day, equipped for a possible absence of a
week, he crossed the road and entered Dr. Deane's house.
This time the two met, not^so much as lovers, but rather
as husband and wife might meet after long absence and
escape from imminent danger. Martha Deane knew how
cruel and bitter Gilbert's fate must seem to his own heart,
and she resolved that all the cheer which lay in her buoy-
ant, courageous nature should be given to him. Never
did a woman more sweetly blend the tones of regret and
faith, sympathy and encouragement.
" The time has come, Gilbert," she said at last, " when
our love for each other must no longer be kept a secret
at least from the few who, under other circumstances,
would have a right to know it. We must still wait, though
no longer (remember that !) than we were already agreed
to wait ; but we should betray ourselves, sooner or later,
and then the secret, discovered by others, would seem to
hint at a sense of shame. We shall gain respect and
sympathy, and perhaps help, if we reveal it ourselves.
Even if you do not take the same view, Gilbert, think of
this, that it is my place to stand beside you in your hour
of difficulty and trial ; that other losses, other dangers,
may come, and you could not, you must not, hold me apart
when my heart tells me we should be together ! "
She laid her arms caressingly over his shoulders, and
looked in his face. A wonderful softness and tenderness
touched his pale, worn countenance. " Martha," he said,
u remember that my disgrace will cover you, yet awhile."
" Gilbert ! "
That one word, proud, passionate, reproachful, yet for-
giving, sealed his lips.
" So be it ! " he cried. " God knows, I think but of
you. If I selfishly considered myself, do yoa think ]
would hold back my own honor ? *
THE STORY OF KENNETT. 257
u A poor honor," she said, "that I sit comfortably at
home and love you, while you are face to face with death ! "
Martha Deane's resolution was inflexibly taken. That
same evening she went into the sitting-room, where her
father was smoking a pipe before the open stove, and
placed her chair opposite to his.
" Father," she said, " thee has never asked any questions
concerning Alfred Barton's visit."
The Doctor started, and looked at her keenly, before
replying. Her voice had its simple, natural tone, her man-
ner was calm and self-possessed ; yet something in her firm,
erect posture and steady eye impressed him with the idea
that she had determined on a full and final discussion of
the question.
" No, child," he answered, after a pause. " I saw Alfred,
and he said thee was rather taken by surprise. He thought,
perhaps, thee did n't rightly know thy own mind, and it
would be better to wait a little. That is the chief reason
why I have n't spoken to thee."
" If Alfred Barton said that, he told thee false," said she.
" I knew my own mind, as well then as now. I said to him
that nothing could ever make me his wife."
" Martha ! " the Doctor exclaimed, " don't be hasty ! If
Alfred is a little older "
" Father ! " she interrupted, " never mention this thing
again ! Thee can neither give me away, nor sell me ;
though I am a woman, I belong to myself. Thee knows
I 'm not hasty in anything. It was a long time before I
rightly knew my own heart ; but when I did know it and
found that it had chosen truly, I gave it freely, and it is
gone from me forever ! "
" Martha, Martha ! " cried Dr. Deane, starting from his
seat, " what does all this mean ? "
" It means something which it is thy right to know, and
therefore I have made up my mind to tell thee, even at the
risk of incurring thy lasting displeasure. It means that I
17
258 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
have followed the guidance of my own heart and bestowed
it on a man a thousand times better and nobler than Alfred
Barton ever was, and, if the Lord spares us to each other,
I shall one day be his wife ! "
The Doctor glared at his daughter in speechless amaze-
ment. But she met his gaze steadily, although her face
grew a shade paler, and the expression of the pain she
could not entirely suppress, with the knowledge of the
struggle before her, trembled a little about the corners of
her lips.
" Who is this man ? " he asked.
Gilbert Potter."
Dr. Deane's pipe dropped from his hand and smashed
upon the iron hearth.
" Martha Deane ! " he cried. " Does the d what pos-
sesses thee ? Was n't it enough that thee should drive
away the man 1 had picked out for thee, with a single view
to thy own interest and happiness ; but must thee take up,
as a wicked spite to thy father, with almost the only man
in the neighborhood who brings thee nothing but poverty
and disgrace ? It shall not be it shall never be ! "
" It must be, father," she said gently. " God hath
joined our hearts and our lives, and no man not even
thee shall put them asunder. If there were disgrace,
in the eyes of the world, which I now know there is not,
Gilbert has wiped it out by his courage, his integrity,
and his sufferings. If he is poor, I am well to do."
" Thee forgets," the Doctor interrupted, in a stern voice,
" the time is n't up ! "
" I know that unless thee gives thy consent, we must
wait three years ; but I hope> 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.
<k Good heavens ! 1 had n't the slightest suspicion of it
Well I don't begrude you your luck, and of course I *U
draw back, and never say another word, now or ever."
T&E STORY OF KKNNETT. 871
a You would n't ha' been comfortable with Martha Deane,
anyhow," Miss Lavender grimly remarked. " T is n't
good to hitch a colt-horse and an old spavined critter in
one team. But that 's neither here nor there ; you ha' n't
told us why you made up to her for a purpose, and kep' on
pretendin' she did n't know her own mind."
" I 've promised Gilbert that I won't interfere, and that 's
enough," said Barton, doggedly.
Miss Lavender was foiled for a moment, but she pres-
ently returned to the attack. "I dunno as it's enough,
after what 's gone before," she said. " Could n't you go a
step furcler, and lend Gilbert a helpin' hand, whenever and
whatever ? "
" Betsy ! " Gilbert exclaimed.
" Let me alone, lad ! I don't speak in Gilbert's namt,
uor yet in Martha's ; only out o' my own mind. I don't
ask you to do anything, but I want to know how it stands
with your willin'ness."
" I 'vc offered, more than once, to do him a good turn,
if I could ; but I guess my help would n't be welcome,"
Barton answered. The stmg of the suspicion rankled in
his mind, and Gilbert's evident aversion sorely wounded
his vanity.
" Would n't be welcome. Then I '11 only say this ;
maybe 1 've got it in my power, and 't is n't sayin' much,
for the mouse gnawed the mashes o' the lion's net, to help
you to what you 'ro after, bein' as it is n't Martha, and
can't be her money. S'pose I did it o' my own accord,
leavin' you to feel beholden to me, or not, after all 's said
and done ? "
But Alfred Barton was proof against even this assault.
He was too dejected to enter, at once, into a new plot, the
issue of which would probably be as fruitless as the others.
He had already accepted a sufficiency of shame, for one
day. This last confession, if made, would place his char-
acter in a still grosser and meaner light ; while, if with
272 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
held, the unexplained motive might be presented as a
partial justification of his course. He had been surprised
into damaging admissions ; but here he would take a firm
stand.
"You're right so far, Betsy," he said, "that I had a
reason a good reason, it seemed to me, but I may be
mistaken for what I did. It concerns no one under
Heaven but my own self; and though I don't doubt your
willingness to do me a good turn, it would make no differ-
ence you could n't help one bit. I 've given the thing
up, and so let it be ! "
There was nothing more to be said, and the two cross-
examiners took their departure. As they descended te
the creek, Miss Lavender remarked, as if to herself,
" No use it can't be screwed out of him ! So there 's
one cur'osity the less ; not that I 'm glad of it, for not
knowin' worries more than knowin', whatsoever and who-
soever. And I dunno as I think any the wuss of him for
shuttin' his teeth so tight onto it."
Alfred Barton waited until the two had disappeared be-
hind the timber in the bottom> 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<!
restrained his impatience.
" I will readily give you time, Dr. Deane," he replied,
u provided you will give me opportunities. You are free to
question all who know me, of course, and I suppose you
have done so. I will not ask you to take the trouble to
come to me, in order that we may become better acquainted,
but only that you will allow me to come to you."
" It would hardly be fair to deny thee that much," said
the Doctor.
" I will ask no more now. I never meant, from the first
to question your interest in Martha's happiness, or your
right to advise her. It may be too soon to expect youi
consent, but at least you '11 hold back your refusal ? "
" Thee 's a reasonable young man, Gilbert," the Doctoi
remarked, after a pause which was quite unnecessary. " 1
like that in thee. We are both agreed, then, that while
I shall be glad to see thee in my house, and am willing
to allow to Martha and thee the intercourse proper to a
young man and woman, it is not yet to be taken for granted
that I sanction your desired marriage. Remember me
kindly to thy mother, and say, if thee pleases, that I shall
soon call to see her."
Gilbert had scarcely reached home that evening, before
Deb. Smith, who had left the farm-house on the day fol-
lowing the recovery of the money, suddenly made her
appearance. She slipped into the kitchen without knock-
ing, and crouched down in a corner of the wide chimney-
place, before she spoke. Both mother and son were
struck by the singular mixture of shyness and fear in
her manner.
" I heerd all about it, to-day," she presently said, u and
I would n't ha' come here, if 1 'd ha' knowed where else
THE STOBY OF KENNETT. 391
to go to. They 're after me. this time, Sandy's friends,
in dea4 earnest ; they '11 have my blood, if they can git itj
but you said once't you 'd shelter me, Mr. Gilbert ! "
" So I will, Deborah ! " he exclaimed ; " do you doubt mj
word ? "
" No, I don't ; but I dunno how 't is you 're rich now,
and as well-born as the best of 'em, and Mary 's lawful
married and got her lawful name ; and you both seem to
be set among the folks that can't feel for a body like me
not that your hearts is changed, only it comes different te
me. somehow."
" Stay here, Deborah, until you feel sure you 're safe,"
said Mary. " If Gilbert or I should refuse to protect you.
your blood would be upon our heads. I won't blame you
for doubting us ; I know how easy it is to lose faith in
others ; but if you think I was a friend to you while my
name was disgraced, you must also remember that I knew
the truth then as well as the world knows it now."
" Bless you for sayin' that, Mary ! There was n't much
o' my name at any time ; but what little I might ha' had is
clean gone nothin' o' me left but the strong arm ! I 'm
not a coward, as you know, Mr. Gilbert ; I '11 meet any
man, face to face, in a fair and open fight Let 'em come
in broad day, and on the high road ! not lay in wait in
bushes and behind fences, to shoot me down unawares."
They strove to quiet her fears, and little by little she
grew composed. The desperate recklessness of her mood
contrasted strangely with her morbid fear of an ambushed
enemy. Gilbert suspected that it might be a temporary
insanity, growing out of her remorse for having betrayed
Sandy Flash. When she had been fed, and had smoked
a pipe or two, she seemed quite to forget it, and was almost
her own self when she went up to her bed in the western
room.
The moon, three quarters full, was hanging over the
barn, and made a peaceful, snowy light about the bouse
898 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
She went to the window, opened it, and breathed the cool
air of the April night. The " herring-frogs " were keep-
ing up an incessant, birdlike chirp down the glen, and
nearer at hand the plunging water of the mill-race made
a soothing noise. It really seemed that the poor creature
had found a quiet refuge at last.
Suddenly, something rustled and moved behind the
mass of budding lilacs, at the farther corner of the garden-
paling. She leaned forward ; the next moment there was
a flash, the crack of a musket rang sharp and loud through
the dell, followed by a whiz and thud at her very ear. A
thin drift of smoke rose above the bushes, and she saw a
man's figure springing to the cover of the nearest apple-
tree. In another minute, Gilbert made his appearance,
gun in hand.
" Shoot him, Gilbert ! " cried Deb. Smith ; "it 's Dough-
erty ! "
Whoever it was, the man escaped ; but by a singular
coincidence, the Irish ostler disappeared that night from
the Unicorn tavern, and was never again seen in the neigh-
borhood.
The bullet had buried itself in the window-frame, after
having passed within an inch or two of Deb. Smith's head. 1
To Gilbert's surprise, all her fear was gone ; she was again
fierce and defiant, and boldly came and went, from that
night forth, saying that no bullet was or would be cast, to
take her life.
Therein she was right ; but it was a dreary life and a
miserable death which awaited her. For twenty-five years
she wandered about the neighborhood, achieving wonders
in spinning, reaping and threshing, by the undiminished
force of her arm, though her face grew haggard and her
hair gray ; sometimes plunging into wild drinking-bouta
with the rough male companions of her younger days;
1 The hole made by the bullet still remains in the window-frame of tki
Id fium-hotue.
THE STORY OF KENNETT. SWI
sometimes telling a new generation, with weeping and vio
lent self-accusation, the story of her treachery ; but always
with the fearful conviction of a yet unfulfilled curse hang-
ing over her life. Whether it was ever made manifest,
no man could tell ; but when she was found lying dead
on the floor of her lonely cabin on the Woodrow farm,
with staring, stonj eyes, and the lines of unspeakable
horror on her white face, there were those who recalled
her own superstitious forebodings, and believed them.
THE STORY OF KENNETT.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
IT may readily be guessed that such extraordinary de-
velopments as those revealed in the preceding chapters
produced more than a superficial impression upon a quiet
community like that of Kennett and the adjoining town-
ships. People secluded from the active movements of
the world are drawn to take the greater interest in their
own little family histories, a feeling which by-and-by
amounts to a partial sense of ownership, justifying not
only any degree of advice or comment, but sometimes
even actual interference.
The Quakers, who formed a majority of the population,
and generally controlled public sentiment in domestic mat-
ters, through the purity of their own domestic life, at once
pronounced in favor of Mary Barton. The fact of her
having taken an oath was a slight stumbling-block to sonic ;
but her patience, her fortitude, her submission to what she
felt to be the Divine Will, and the solemn strength which
had upborne her on the last trying day, were qualities
which none could better appreciate. The fresh, warm
sympathies of the younger people, already given to
Gilbert and Martha, now also embraced her; far and
wide went the wonderful story, carrying with it a wave
of pity and respect for her, of contempt and denunciation
for her husband.
The old Friends and their wives came to visit her, in
their stately chairs; almost daily, for a week or two, the
quiet of the farm was invaded, either by them, or by the
THE STORY OF KENNETT. 393
few friends who had not forsaken her in her long disgrace,
and were doubly welcome now. She received them all
with the same grave, simple dignity of manner, gratefully
accepting their expressions of sympathy, and quietly turn-
ing aside the inconsiderate questions that would have
probed too deeply and painfully.
To an aged Friend, a preacher of the sect, who
plumply asked her what course she intended to pursue
towards her husband, she replied,
" I will not trouble my season of thanksgiving. What
is right for me to do will be made manifest when the occa-
sion comes."
This reply was so entirely in the Quaker spirit that the
old man was silenced. Dr. Deane, who was present, looked
upon her with admiration.
Whatever conjectures Alfred Barton miht have made
in advance, of the consequences which would follow the
disclosure of his secret marriage, they could have borne no
resemblance to the reality. It was not in his nature to
imagine the changes which the years had produced in his
wife. He looked forward to wealth, to importance in the
community, and probably supposed that she would only be
too glad to share the proud position with him. There
would be a little embarrassment at first, of course ; but his
money would soon make everything smooth.
Now, he was utterly defeated, crushed, overwhelmed.
The public judgment, so much the more terrible where
there is no escape from it, rolled down upon him. Avoided
or coldly ignored by the staid, respectable farmers, openly
insulted by his swaggering comrades of the fox-hunt and
the bar-room, jeered at and tortured by the poor and idle
hangers-on of the community, who took a malicious pleasure
in thus repaying him for his former haughtiness and their
own humility, he found himself a moral outcast His
situation became intolerable. He no longer dared to show
Himself in the village, or upon the highways, but slunk
896 THE STORY OF KENNETT.
about the house and farm, cursing himself, his father and
the miserable luck of his life.
When, finally, Giles begged to know how soon his legacj
would be paid, and hinted that he could n't stay any longer
than to get possession of the money, for, hard as it might
be to leave an old home, he must stop going to the mill, or
getting the horses shod, or sitting in the Unicorn bar-room
of a Saturday night, and a man might as well be in jail al
once, and be done with it when Alfred Barton heard all
this, he deliberated, for a few minutes, whether it would
not be a good thing to cut his own throat.
Either that, or beg for mercy ; no other course was left.
That evening he stole up to the village, fearful, at every
step, of being seen and recognized, and knocked timidly at
Dr. Deane's door. Martha and her father were sitting
together, when he came into the room, and they were
equally startled at his appearance. His large frame seemed
to have fallen in, his head was bent, and his bushy whiskers
had become quite gray ; deep wrinkles seamed his face ; his
eyes were hollow, and the corners of his mouth drooped
with an expression of intolerable misery.
" I wanted to say a word to Miss Martha, if she '11 let
me," he said, looking from one to the other.
" I allowed thee to speak to my daughter once too often,"
Dr. Deane sternly replied. " What thee has to say now,
must be said in my presence."
He hesitated a moment, then took a chair and sat down,
turning towards Martha. " It 's come to this," he said,
" that I must have a little mercy, or lay hands on my own
life. I have n't a word to say for myself; I deserve it all.
1 11 do anything that 's wanted of me whatever Mary
says, or people think is her right that she has n't yet got,
if it 's mine to give. You said you wished me well, Miss
Martha, even at the time I acted so shamefully ; I remem-
ber that, and so I ask you to help me."
She saw that he spoke truth, at last, and all her coo
THE STORY OF KENNETT. 397
tempt and disgust could not keep down the quick sensation
of pity which his wretchedness inspired. But she was un-
prepared for his appeal, and uncertain how to answer it.
" What would you have me do ? " she asked.
" Go to Mary on my behalf! Ask her to pardon me, if
she can, or say what I can do to earn her pardon that
the people may know it. They won't be so hard en me, if
they know she 's done that. Everything depends on her,
and il it 's true, as they say, that she 's going to sue for
a divorce and take back her own name for herself and
Gilbert, and cut loose from me forever, why, it '11 just "
He paused, and buried his face in his hands.
u I have not heard of that," said Martha.
" Have n't you ? " he asked. " But it 's too likely to be
true."
" Why not go directly to Mary, yourself?"
" I will, Miss Martha, if you '11 go with me, and maybe
say a kind word now and then, that is, if you think it
is n't too soon for mercy ! "
" It is never too soon to ask for mercy," she said, coming
*x> 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.
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