THE RAG-PICKER; OR BOUND AND FREE. NEW YOEK: MASON BROTHERS, 28 PARK ROW. 1 855. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by MASON BROTHERS, lu the Clerk s Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of New York, STEREOTYPED BY PRINTED BY THOMAS B. SMITH, JOHN A. GRAY, 82 & 84 Beekman Street. 97 Cliff St. PREFACE, FT1HE pages which follow are a record of facts, -L simply, from the experience of one who has been the eye and ear-witness of the substance of this book. The author has had no occasion to " draw upon imagination" for the characters ; and several of the principal personages alluded to are of those who have lived and passed among us in the present cen tury, here and elsewhere. The object of the work is to aid in keeping alive the march of progress (though the means are ad mitted to be sufficiently humble), that is now cur rent at the North, the South, the East, and the West of our land ; and to " point a moral" (in passing) through the history of those herein named, who have suffered from the abuses portrayed. The aim of the writer will have been attained if a single heart may be touched and turned from the pursuit of the manifest errors that surround the people of this country. If the perusal of this vol- PREFACE. nine shall influence a single individual to labor more zealously and more fervently toward removing from our legal and social system the dark blots that now unfortunately stain them, I shall not have put forth my hand in vain. And if the truthful history em bodied herein the history of suffering and wrong that finds many a parallel, even in this " enlightened day/ at the North and the South shall cause the erring or the oppressive to repent, and "see them selves as others see them/" some small share of common benefit will have been effected by this simple narrative. In the humble hope that good may result from this effort, that the unfortunate may find a word of consolation within its pages, and that it may serve in some measure to urge the friends of freedom and reform to more earnest and constant endeavors for the improvement and weal of suffering humanity among us the work is submitted, in trust and good will, by THE AUTHOR. BosroN, 1855. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE MORNING AT THE JUXK-STORE. . . 17 CHAPTER II. THE BURNING. . 21 CHAPTER in. THE DELIVERANCE . 2G CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE STRAGGLERS . 33 CHAPTER V. THE WILLING SLAVE , 39 CHAPTER VI. "THE GOOD DIE YOUNG" . 43 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGE A NTHONY BRITTAN 47 CHAPTER VIII. THE ELOPEMENT. . 53 CHAPTER IX. THE ELLSON FAMILY 58 CHAPTER X. A MINISTER OP MERCY. . , G6 CHAPTER XI. THE INVALID AND HER BABES 71 CHAPTER XII. BEDLAM 77 CHAPTER XIII. A SURPRISE 87 CHAPTER XIV. THE EXPLANATION 93 CHAFFER XV. A RAY OF HOPE 99 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. PAGE THE UNWELCOME VISITORS 105 CHAPTER XVH. THE ARREST. . 112 CHAPTER XVHI. A LEGAL FARCE. . 118 CHAPTER XIX. TONEY AND CARRIE ........................................ 122 CHAPTER XX. THE Two SLAVES ................................. .- ....... 130 CHAPTER XXI. THE GOLDSMITH S CHARITY ................................. 138 CHAPTER XXTT. THE KUSE AND THE ESCAPE ................................. 146 CHAPTER A LOWLY DEATH-BED ..................................... 154 CHAPTER XXIV. THE PAUPER S GRAVE. . . 160 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXV. PAGE A HOMELESS BIRD 164 CHAPTER XXVI. THE LUNATIC MOTHER. . 167 CHAPTER XXVH. ANTHONY BRITTAN S WARD. ., 171 CHAPTER XXVHI. A PEACEFUL MESSENGER 175 CHAPTER XXTX. THE WANDERERS 180 CHAPTER XXX. ANNIE ELLSON S DREAM 185 CHAPTER XXXL THE STRANGE EESTORATION 190 CHAPTER XXXH. THE DEBTOR IN PRISON 19-i CHAPTER XXXHI. A JOYFUL MEETING .201 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXXIV. PAOH DAYLIGHT BREAKING 20G CHAPTER XXXV. THE THEODOLITE MAKEE 210 CHAPTER XXXVI. NAPPO DUROC 215 CHAPTER XXXVH. BHUTAN S KENTUCKY HOME 219 CHAPTER XXXVHL A QUESTIONABLE INVESTMENT 223 CHAPTER XXXIX. THE CATASTROPHE 228 CHAPTER XL. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE . 234 s- CHAPTER XLL DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 239 CHAPTER XLH. THE KECOGNITTON 2-44 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XLHL PACK AULD LANG SYNE 250 CHAPTER XLIV. NAPPO AND TONEY 254 CHAPTER XLV. A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE 262 CHAPTER XLVI. A DEBT OF HONOR SETTLED 267 CHAPTER XLVIL THE Two QUADROONS 271 CHAPTER XLVHI. THE TABLES TURNING 279 CHAPTER XLIX. THE OVERSEER S REVENGE 288 CHAPTER L. A SECRET INTERVIEW 294 CHAPTER LI. THE GUARDIAN S PROPOSAL . 299 I V\ CONTENT^. CHAPTER LII. PAGE Two WRONGS SOMETIMES MAKE ONE RIGHT 305 CHAPTER LIH. THE STOLEN CHILD. . , . 312 CHAPTER LTV. A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. . ... 318 CHAPTER LV. NORA S DEPARTURE ...321 CHAPTER LVL BRTTTAN AND HIS " FRIEXD" 326 CHAPTER LVII. JULIE S PARTING ADVICE 333 CHAPTER LVHI. THE MIDNIGHT DRITE 341 CHAPTER LIX. QUERIES, DOUBTS, AND FEARS 346 CHAPTER LX. PASSING THE RUBICON . 353 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER LXI. PAGE NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES 359 CHAPTER LXH. THE ELLSON S AT HOME. . , . 3G9 CHAPTER LXIH. "SlLVERPOOL". . , . 375 CHAPTER LXIV. ANNIE, HENRY, ANQ TOXEY 382 CHAPTER LXV. SPECULATION AND PROMISE 387 CHAPTER LXVI. A COLLISION 392 CHAPTER LXVH. FATHER AND DAUGHTER 396 CHAPTER LXVIH. " A MAN OVERBOARD" 400 CHAPTER LXIX. THE NEW HOME OF TOXEY A\D JULIE. . . . 403 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER LXX. PAGE THE NEW PROPRIETOR AND THE OLD 406 CHAPTER LXXL A HAPPY NEW TEAR. . , . 411 CHAPTER LXXII. THE RAG-PICKER S STORY CHAPTER LXXIII. THE CONCLUSION. ......................................... 427 THE RAG-PICKER, CHAPTER I. MORNIXG AT THE JUNK-STORE. "There is a variety of these little trades, and industries, which derive their chief means of life from the wants and luxuries of the Boulevards. You will see an individual moving about, at all hours of the night, silent and active, and seeing the smallest bit of paper in the dark, where you could see nothing, picking it up and pitching it, with amazing dexterity, into a basket tied to his shoulder ; with a cat-like walk, being every where and nowhere at the same time ; stirring up the rubbish of every nook and gutter of the street, under your very nose. This is the KAG-PICKER. Ho is a very important individual. He stands at the head of the little trades, and is looked up to with envy by all the others." SANDERSON S AMEEICAN IN PAEIS, THE gray streak of daybreak was just visible in the far-off east, upon a clear spring morning in the year 18 , and very few persons save the earliest risers the watchmen, the most ambitious of the mechanics in the neighborhood, and a well known straggler or two were astir. At the lower end of a narrow lane that led from one of the principal streets in Boston, down to the wharves at the north erly extremity of the city, a dimly-burning light could be seen. The curious observer, who might feel desirous to in form himself more particularly in reference to the surroundings of this indifferent luminary, could have learned that it stood 18 T H E K A G - P I C K E R, upon the head of an iron-bound cask, in a small junk-shop, the proprietor of which, if he ever slept at all, did so when or dinary mortals would least suspect it. The individual spoken of was now wide awake, and await ing, in momentary expectation, the arrival of certain of his agents, who would shortly report themselves at this " bin," where were collected, in piles about the low rooms, huge quan tities of old rags, junk, fragments of iron, lead, pumps, blocks, and every conceivable variety of trash and rubbish, good, bad, and indifferent. He was a parsimonious being, and his ec centric manner was peculiarly noticeable when he had occa sion to speak, for he articulated with curious brevity, and seemed anxious, at all times, to say no more than was abso lutely necessary ; an aged man, too plainly fifty years old, or more. He had been a professional rag-picker for a long pe riod, until at last, having acquired a small sum of surplus capital, he hired this shop, gave up the more laborious part of his calling, and became the receiver of refuse collected by others, who followed this precarious and questionable avoca tion. This individual was an adept in the business he had chosen, and his long experience in the trade rendered him a shrewd and skillful manager. For many a year he had en joyed rare opportunities to study human character, in all its phases, from that of the possessor of lordly wealth, to the ver iest scullion at the curb-stone ; and he had not been an idle observer of men and manners, as they passed before him. No one knew aught of him, however, save what they saw from day to day ; he concerned himself, apparently, with no one .s affairs beyond his own sphere ; and so he lived on, unmolested, uncared for, and alone, from year s end to year s end MORNING AT THE JUNK STORE. 19 The day broke, fairly, at length, and first one and then an other of his host of employees straggled in, each -with the pro ducts of his or her previous four-and-twenty hours wander ings, and a motly band they proved ! A popular writer avers that the Parisian rag-picker " is, in matter, what Pythagoras was in mind ; and his transforma tions are scarcely less curious than those of the Samian sage." But the business of the American rag-picker seems to em brace even a more varied and extensive field of mercantile operations ; and he improves vastly upon his Old World orig inal, inasmuch as, while being quite as attentive to the rag- gathering, legitimately, he is, also, no less careful to possess himself, en passant, of every thing name able, from which he can hope to realize the smallest possible profit, whether it be rags, paper, iron, copper, lead, silver or, indeed, any thing bearing the slightest commercial or merchantable value. And thus the more modern chiffonnier enlarges his sphere of use fulness in transformations, far beyond the capacity or the ac complishment of his ancient prototype, while the profession, at the same time (in this country), is not limited, strictly, either to sex or materiel. The throng who came to and departed from the old junk- shop, on the morning referred to, were of every age and gen der, and the shade of color requisite to gain them access to the attention of the wiry old receiver, seemed entirely unim portant, for there were black and white, as well as old and young, great and small, and no questions were asked in refer ence to where they hailed from, or who they belonged to. In the recognition of his attaches, the ancient rag-picker desired no certificate of previous character ; and he obtruded no ques- 20 THE RAG-PICKER. tions as to the antecedents of those whom he chanced to fall upon in the way of trade. One by one they approached the man who took from them, daily, the contents of their sacks, and whr> paid them down, in ready silver, the price of their slovenly booty. The rags were duly assorted, and thrust into larger bags, or stored in the waste-room ; the bits of iron hoops and nails, and broken horse-shoes, etc., were placed in the great tubs, or corners ; the ropes and twine, and cords, were coiled up according to size and length ; the copper and brass, and lead fragments, were disposed of upon appropriate shelves. The paying off suc ceeded, and the happy possessors of twenty, forty, or fifty cents, in shining coin, departed with lightened bags and equally lightened hearts, to pursue the same round of duty, and to return upon the succeeding day for a similar purpose, after meeting with greater or less success, as the event might prove. Though rough and forbidding in exterior, this strange old man possessed a warm heart, naturally ; yet he was the very last man in the world to encourage, directly or indirectly, the slightest approach to indolence. The really needy had often been secretly benefited through his instrumentality, but his charity was never known to others, for he selected the objects upon which it was bestowed with scrupulous care. The world at large scoffed at him and his calling. But he smiled at this, and was content that he was then compelled to ask no favors at the hands of his fellows. He was sinsailarlv O t, rugged in constitution, and having been for years previously inured to all sorts of weather, and to all kinds of harsh treat ment, he snapped his fingers at opposition, and pursued the even tenor of his wav, as if his course lay always in the sunshine. CHAPTER II. THE BURNING. Did you say all ? All At one fell swoop ? SHAKESPEARE. THE rag-picker was old. He had no children, no family, no dependencies, of any name or nature. He tad accumulat ed what property he had by means of " hard knocks," and a lifetime of labor. He watched the comers and goers that constantly frequented his shop, and hoped to meet with some one, sooner or later, among the horde of people he met, upon whom he could rely, and who might be worthy to succeed him, perhaps, when he should be called away from earthly things. But for years he looked and watched in vain. He was a scrupulously honest man, ingenious and skillful, but careless in his dealings and in his mode of life. For one so situated, this might, at first sight, seem a paradoxical as sertion, yet he had found, in a life s experience, that even a rag-picker could be a man of integrity ; and as he had none to provide for but himself, he did not exert the talent that he innately possessed. Never, to his knowledge, had he been the receiver of the first farthing s worth of property, either, that the seller did not 22 THEKAG-PICKER. come honestly in possession of. There was no wavering in his integrity, and he never saw the necessity of over-reaching those with whom he was so constantly brought in contact. In his bargaining, he was shrewd and close ; but in all his transactions he did not forget his moral responsibility to his Maker, and to his fellow men. He made no .pretensions to, or professions of, religion, how ever. His time was passed, almost exclusively, at his junk- store, and he Avas rarely seen away from its immediate neigh borhood. Few persons seemed to take any interest in him, and he could be found at almost any and every hour of the day or night in his little old shop, adjusting his second-hand wares, and arranging them for preservation or for future disposal. Directly over the shop, the old rag-picker rented two small rooms, and in the rear of the building kept his wardrobe and cash, under lock and key. When he did sleep, he occupied a mattrass in another of these back rooms, and this chamber was the repository, also, of such articles of small bulk, but greater value, as he chanced to purchase, from time to time, and which he lodged here for better security. At the time he is now introduced to the reader, his stock of lighter materials, such as rags, old rope, canvas, paper, and the like, was unusually large. The junk-shop was crowded, and he had filled it up rapidly, of late, though he had ar ranged for the disposal of most of it, and it was already weighed up and packed in bags, preparatory to being removed from his premises. He had paid off the last of his dependents, who had de parted like the rest, and the sun was rising gloriously i n the east. The wind was blowing fresh from the westward, and T H E B U R N I N O . . 23 the rag-picker extinguished his lamp, ae usual, and mounted the stairs that led to his little room, overhead first securing his shop-door on the inside with the intention of getting a nap before the time when business usually commenced upon the wharves and vicinity. His form was soon extended upon his low pallet, and al most as quickly, from habit, he was soundly sleeping. The night guardians had just left their beats for home, and very few persons were moving in the streets. The old man dreamed. He dreamed of his late success in trade, and he saw, in his fancy, generous heaps of silver and gold within his grasp. He smiled as he thought of the hardships he had passed through triumphantly, and as the good deeds he had secretly performed arose before his imagin ation again. And then there suddenly appeared a cloud before him ; a heavy, portentous darkness succeeded ; he was deeply troubled, at first, but still he slept soundly. He gazed upon the for bidding mass, and its threatening blackness alarmed him. He struggled to avoid it, for it seemed, at last, about to burst upon his head ! He trembled, and writhed, and shrank from its approach ; but on it came, pressing him to the earth, and burying the poor old man, almost, in its opaqueness. His lungs were obstructed, perspiration stood in huge drops upon his great high forehead, and, with a maddening shriek, he leaped from his pallet and awoke to find himself completely enveloped in a thick cloud of heated smoke, that had well- nigh suffocated him as he slept ! The junk-shop was thoroughly on fire below, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he could draw his breath. 24 THE RAG-PICKER. He sprang to the stairway and partially opened the door, but the stairs were alive with crinkling, livid flames, and egress in that direction was impossible. He darted to the only win dow in the little room, the sash of which he quickly raised, but the height was too great for him to attempt to jump thence to the ground. " Fire !" shouted the rag-picker, furiously ; and as the smoke had already been seen by a porter, who had recently arrived, and was just opening . a store in the vicinity, the alarm was quickly circulated, and "fire! fire!" fell from half a score of lips, almost at the same moment. The old man was soon discovered, and a short ladder was placed against the side of the burning building by the man who had, fortunately, first heard the alarm. With a trem bling step he placed his feet upon it, while the stout porter held it upon his shoulders as he descended; and with an earnest " thank God !" for his escape, he fled from the heat of the flames, that were bursting from every quarter of the build ing, and found himself free from serious personal harm. His silver watch, that hung by the window casement, he had not time to secure, even, so necessarily sudden was his retreat ; while his entire property, the accumulation of years and years of toil, and hardship, and economy, on the part of the frugal man, was entirely and irredeemably destroyed. As he blew out his morning lamp, it was supposed that a spark must have fallen in among the tow or rope-yarns that were piled about, and such was the combustible nature of the materials in the shop, when once the fire had been ignited among them, that the destruction was fearfully rapid as well as morally certain ! THE BURNING. 25 He had been engaged in his present business over a score of years, and had never thought, scarcely, of such a thing ;is an insurance policy ; or, if he had, he had never deemed such a provision of sufficient consequence to him to take one out on his property ! He "was, himself, always in and about his premises ; he trimmed, lighted, and extinguished his lamp with his own hands ; the buildings in the vicinity were rarely or never lighted up, and he assumed his own risk, believing it to be next to impossible that he could ever be endangered by fire. This procedure was, by no means, in accordance with the settled rule of action established in this man s shrewd career ; but he looked upon the sacrifice of the premium claimed for insurance as money needlessly thrown away, at least, in his instance ; and the result of this reasoning added an important item to the chain of bitter events in his checkered experience ! Nothing was saved, and the gray-headed rag-picker was once more a beggar. 2 CHAPTER III. THE DELIVEEANCE. Ho hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity ; Yet, notwithstanding being incensed bo s flint ! SHAKESPEARE, Henry IV. As is commonly the case, under such circumstances, and especially in that locality, so noted for the great proportionate number of its children, the burning ruins drew together a crowd of little ones, whose parents or friends dwelt in the vi cinity of the fire ; and before noon the bulk of the employees of the old rag-picker were there, too ; some of them from a feeling of sympathy for their late patron s loss, some \vith the offer of aid, others from natural curiosity, and not a few to pick up or steal what might fall in their way. But the old man was already upon the qui vive. After the smoldering mass had settled down, and the worst of the smoke had begun to clear up, he enlisted the services of half a dozen of those upon whom he thought he could depend, and com menced to clear away the wreck. It was a slow process, however ; and after various attempts to remove some portion of the fallen and charred timbers, it was found that the heat was so great that it was impossible, with any degree of safety, THE DELIVERANCE. 27 to proceed. Not until the third day afterward was it found practicable for the old man to overturn the remains of his property. Every thing that was ignitable had been destroyed, and the excessive and long-continued heat, underneath, had so melted and scorched the metals that they were not worth the trouble it would involve to rescue them. Still, the poor man strug gled to extricate whatever seemed to be of the least prospect ive value ; and with one or two of his friends, he drew out some few trifling articles that he contrived to preserve. It had come to be nearly dark, and most of the lookers-on had departed, when the old man s attention was suddenly di verted from his work by hearing the screams of a child, be yond him, at the edge of the dock. The noise came from the lungs of a boy, some six or seven years old, who was shout ing at the top of his voice, " Help, mister ! quick, quick ! she s drownded, she s drownded ! quick she s drownded !" And hastening to the spot, he looked into the dock and saw the form of a little child, just sinking below the surface of the water. Instantly throwing off his hat and vest for he had been at work all day in his shirt-sleeves he sprang overboard, and quickly held the almost lifeless form of a sweet little girl in his grasp. He swam across the dock to a flight of old steps, at the opposite side, and soon reached terra firma again, with the child in his arms. It turned out that the little straggler was more alarmed than injured, and with a little rubbing and coaxing she soon came to herself, though she was desperately frightened. As soon as she could be pacified, the old man brought her round to the other side of the pier, and said to the boy : 28 THE RAG-PICKER. " How d it happen?" " She fell in, sir, she did." " And what s her name ?" " Carrie, sir." " Carrie ? What else, besides Carrie ?" " Carrie Ellson, sir." " Where d ye live ?" added the old man. " In Cross street, sir." " Are you her brother, too ?" " Yes sir ; I m Toney. Toney Ellson, sir." " Well, Toney, go home directly, and " " I darsn t, sir !" exclaimed the boy, as he took his sister s hand and began to attempt to smooth out her saturated dress ; "I darsn t, he ll he 11 beat me so !" " Who 11 beat you 8" " My father, sir," and the tears began to fall from his eyes, in showers. " He ll beat me cos I come here, and then he ll beat me more cos I let Carrie fall in the dock. Oh, dear ! oh, dear !" continued the little fellow, mournfully, " I donno what to do. Carrie s cryin , too, and I I there he is /" yelled Toney, in despair, as he looked around and suddenly discovered the form of his dreaded parent approaching them ; and " breaking ground," without further ceremony, he sprang away with the speed of a fox, up the wharf, leaving Carrie behind, and yelling at the top of his lungs, again, " I did n t do it, father ! I did n t, I did n t !" and was quickly out of sight and hearing. " I ll fix you see f I don t," muttered the man between his teeth, as Toney broke away. " See f I don t, then." And approaching the trembling little girl, he seized her arm roughly, when, noticing her wet clothes, he exclaimed : THE DELIVERANCE. 29 " What the devil s this ? Where you bin, eh ? Didn t I tell you not tu ? Did n t I tell you so, eh ? Home with you, now. I ll see f I can t make you mind," he continued, rudely pushing the poor little creature on before him ; and the old man was pained to observe that this stranger was deeply in his cups ! " Are you the father of em ?" asked the old rag-picker, re spectfully, of the other. " Yes, I am. Have you any any thing special to say against that, eh ole cockalorum?" " No, sir. I just saved that little girl s life." " Did any body hie ask you to ?" queried the man, inso lently and ignorantly. " She was drowning in the dock, yonder. You see I m as wet as she is. I sprang in and rescued her" " I told em not to come here. Serve em right ! They 11 look out, next time. I ll fix em see f I don t," insisted the poor inebriate, harshly, as he turned away, with his little weeping, terrified daughter clinging to him. The rag-picker said nothing more, but moved up the dock, slowly, dripping, and shivering with cold, in the only suit of clothes he owned, at that moment, in the world. He gazed upon the smoldering ruin of his property, shook the salt water from his thin locks, and thought how poor he was, at that hour ! But as his eye caught the receding form of the miserable father, staggering homeward with that pretty, but frightened child, he could not avoid exclaiming : " Bad enough, to be sure ; bad enough ! but not so bad as that, thank God !" The old man thrashed his arms upon his body, and stood up nearer to a portion of the still burning and heated ruins, 30 THE RAG-PICKER. to warm his drilled limbs, and to dry liis wet clothes. In his purse he had a few dollars yet, but this was all he had left in the world, save a stout heart and a willing hand. Se curing his hat and vest, at length, he slowly wandered up the lane, turned into Cross street, and began to search for a halt ing-place for the night, for he was sadly wearied with his past three days exposure and exertion. As he passed along, he overheard a struggling, and the confused jargon of several voices, within a small tenement near him ; and as he halted to listen, he thought he could distinguish the anxious entreaties of a female, and, amid all, the cries of children. Then he heard imprecations and threats, and harsh blows, and then a fall, and shrieks of terror. The little boy who had accompanied the child to the dock, very well knew his father s disposition ; and, when he fled from the scene that had come so near proving fatal to his sister, he feared to venture home, for he also knew what would succeed his arrival there, if his father were present. So, like the experienced general, who deemed the better part of valor to be discretion, he made a Avide circuit in return ing to the house, in the hope that, by such a delay, he would dodge his fractious parent, Avho did not pass much of his leisure in the companionship of his family. But To- ney committed an error in his reckoning, for when he did arrive, his father was in waiting for him. Lost to all parental feeling, long since, he tarried for no explanation, but at once commenced a terrible chastisement upon the little fellow, in the performance of which he was zealously engaged as the old rag-picker came up. A woman s THE DELIVERANCE. 31 voice was heard in the midst of the melee, beseeching the ine briate to spare poor Toney, but evidently to no good purpose. " It s no business o mine," muttered the old man, stopping at the half-opened door, " but" Following the dictates of his better nature, at the same mo ment, he sprang into the entry, thrust aside the flimsy screen that concealed the inner apartment, and mounted a short flight of stairs, where the confusion and quarrel was enacting. lie seized the raving belligerent in his stout arms, just as he was in the act of dealing poor Toney a furious blow with his clinched hand ; and before the offender had time to know how the act was accomplished, he found himself upon the sidewalk. "Who re you!" demanded the infuriated father, turning fiercely upon his assailant. The light from the street lamp shone full in the rag-picker s face, and the panic-stricken parent instantly recognized the person who had lately saved his daughter from drowning. The old man only replied to his query in his usually laconic manner, by asking : "Are you a, father?" But the peculiar emphasis of this question, the firm and unflinching bearing of the stranger, and the evidence which the erratic man had already experienced of his personal strength, had the effect of cowering him, for an instant ; and as they stood there, a watchman came up, leisurely. He stopped, looked at the excited offender, whom he evidently knew, and said : "What now, Harry?" The old man briefly explained the scene that had just passed 32 THE RAG-PICKER. within doors, at which the night guardian smiled, and added, " This is the old story ! You ll hev your hands full, my friend, ef you try to stop this sort o thing here. Come, Harry ; come along wi me, an cool off." And with this brief remark, uttered in a careless tone, the city officer drew the man away, and left the rag-picker upon the sidewalk, alone, to his reflections. CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE STRAGGLERS. " They were two blossoms, bright and fair As morning sun, or evening star." A PEW days subsequently, the aged rag-picker had cleared up the wreck of his late establishment, and found that there was nothing remaining to fall back upon. This was a se vere blow to him, for he was too old now to endure the expo sures and the hardships incident to the calling which had originally furnished him with the means to set up his junk- shop. No . friends came forward, with ready purse and open palm, to assist the sufferer, however, and he saw that he must return once more to the drudgery of his trade, or starve ! This latter alternative was, by no means, in accordance with his notions, aged and infirm, comparatively, though he was ; and putting the best possible face upon it, he took his bag and staff again, and accepted, without murmuring, the hard por tion which Fate awarded him in his declining years. He had made himself a thorough master of his peculiar " profession," in days long gone by, but for a number of yeara he had confined himself to the business of the junk-shop. When he now resumed his old habits, therefore, he found that serious changes had occurred in the details of the work, 2* 34 THE RAG-PICKER. The more profitable localities, and the haunts that in his younger days he had frequented, daily, had vanished. New buildings and rows of modern dwellings occupied the old squares and great yards that he once knew. The market places were filled up, scores of new faces met him at every turn, competitors in the gathering and reception of stray tit-bits fell constantly in his way, and the chances for saving any thing, beyond Avhat was required, absolutely, to " keep soul and body together," he now found to be very indiffer ent. Yet the old man jogged along upon his weary rounds, and hummed the same old chant that had served him to drive away dull care in years long past away. And, not withstanding his age, and the difficulties he was compelled to battle with, he soon became contented with his lot, and followed up his humble avocation with zeal and alacrity. Occasionally, he had met the two little children to whom he had been so singularly introduced when he saved the girl from drowning ; but he was now changed in his dress, and he had suffered his gray, frousy beard and hair to grow long, and they did not know him. He had several times crossed the path of the inebriate father, too whom he had chanced upon at all hours of the day and night some times in the gutters, where the old man was searching for scraps of iron or rags ; sometimes he encountered him reel ing homeward, beneath the eaves of the houses, groping along and hanging by the doors and projections, to steady his tot tering steps; often he found him asleep in the rum-haunts which the fallen man visited, and where the rag-pickers called, from day to day, to overhaul the dust-heaps ; but he did not recognize the man who had once interfered to save him THE LITTLriv. STR A G G \v fix>m dealing, perhaps, a dcathr-blow upon his harmless little son ! The children of Henry Ellson Anthony and Clara (who had been called Toney and Carrie from infancy) passed a good part of their tune in the streets, of late, for the mother had long been in delicate health, and the father had no con trol whatever over them, in consequence of his dissolute and reckless habits of almost constant intemperance. And yet these two little wanderers were pretty creatures, and extra ordinarily well-behaved, considering their unhappy circum stances in life. Toney was a bright boy, and possessed a remarkably amiable disposition, while Carrie was the pet of all who knew her, in the poor neighborhood where they dwelt. She was affectionate, playful, forward for her years, considerate and manageable, and possessed one of the sweetest faces in the world. Her eyes were as " black as night," and her petite but graceful little figure, her gentle loving smile, and her apt manner of speech, attracted attention whereever she was seen. The old man, who chanced to save her life, had never forgotten her singularly beautiful face and features, nor had he lost sight of her, for a whole day, from the hour when he rescued her from the water. It was out of his power to aid them in any Avay, however. He passed them in the streets, often, and he always had a kind word for " pretty little Carrie," as he called her; and occasionally very rarely, for he could ill afford the luxury lie placed some penny bon-bon, or an apple in Carrie s hand. When he chanced to meet her, as he sometimes did alone he would sit down upon the edge of the walk, or on a neigh- 36 THE RAO-PICKER. boring step, and chat with her. And Carrie would sing to him. And the old man came to love her dearly at last. And she became very fond of him, too, in spite of his forbidding contour, his huge old bag, and his dusty apparel. When he rose to leave her she would follow her ancient friend, for a long distance from home, and he would then take her up in his arms and bear her back again, and kiss her as he left her near her miserable father s door, and promise to come again next day. Thus for weeks and months the old man came and went, always with a kindly smile and pleasant words, but never once communicating with either of the parents of whom he knew nothing except what he had casually learned of the father s habits. The name he was known by was David, simply. And he taught his juvenile friend to call him "Davy." His com panions had been accustomed to hail him as Old Davy, for years ; but what his other name might be, or whether he had any at all, seemed to be a matter of the utmost indifference to all who met him ; and as he never had occasion to affix his signature to note or bond, the matter had long since become quite as immaterial to himself as to others. But winter came round at last, and the streets were filled with snow, and the raw winds blew cheerlessly and cold. Yet -still the rag-picker continued his customary rounds, though with less success than during the warmer weather. The rubbish from the stores and houses was thrown into, or covered up, by the snow and ice, and the chances of finding a stray horse-shoe were greatly lessened for the time being. And Carrie was seldom seen in the street, and old Davy s THE LITTLE STRAGGLERS. duties became irksome and cheerless. But one warm after noon, during a thaw, he suddenly espied his little favorite trotting down the walk to meet him, and he was greatly re joiced to see her. As night came on, after passing an hour with her, he rose to proceed on his weary way, and said, " Now, Carrie, I must go." " Me, too ?" queried the little innocent, looking affection ately up into the old man s face. "No, darling, not now." "Why not now?" " Some other time. To-morrow next week." " No, now" insisted Carrie, clinging to old Davy. " But it is too cold, love. You would freeze." You won t freeze !" argued Carrie ; "you won t, Davy." " No ; I in used to the cold, you see, and " " You would n t let Carrie freeze," continued the little girl, archly, " would you, Davy ?" " No, sweet, no ! But" " You can take me to your fire, Davy." " I have no fire, darling." " No fire /" exclaimed Carrie, astonished at this announce ment, and not realizing that other people in the world might possibly be poorer even than her friends were. " No fire, Davy ?" " No, love, no." " How d you warm yourself ?" Davy smiled at this final query, but evaded it, and raising the child in his arms, said, " don t you recollect the bon-bons, Carrie, and the warm sunshine, and the green trees, and gar dens of last year ?" 38 THE RAG-PICKER. " Oil yes, yes," responded Carrie joyfully, " I member." "Well, they ll come again, by and by. The snow will soon melt away, and the streets will be dried, and the flowers will spring up, and the birds will sing " " And me, too me, too !" shouted Carrie, interrupting the old man at this point, remembering .that Davy loved to hear her sing, quite as well as she did the birds. " And then you shall go with Davy, sometimes, if you will ; but not now, in the cold, hard snow." " JSTo, no," replied Carrie, contented with this far-away promise, " not now." " Will you sing me one of your little songs before you leave me now, Carrie ?" asked the old man affectionately, as they approached her humble home again. And, without further urging, the gentle creature instantly chanted forth, in a subdued but sweet tone, intended only for old Davy s ear, as they moved slowly along, one of the pretty songs he so much loved, and which she had been taught by her mother. As she concluded it they reached the door of her dwelling, when Davy imprinted a warm kiss upon her fair forehead, and left her, with the promise soon to see her again. CHAPTER V. THE WILLING SLAVE. A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched thing! Scorched, and desolate, and blasted soul A gloomy wilderness of dying thought ! KOBEET POLLOE. Urox a cold and dreary -winter s night, soon after this meeting between old Davy and the child, a poor and feeble, but still beautiful woman, who had seen some four-and-twenty years, only, lay upon a pillow of sorrow and suffering, in a dilapidated house, at the northerly extremity of the street where they parted. The avenue in which this scene is locat ed ran out from one of the principal thoroughfares of the town, and was in no wise remarkable, except from the fact that it led directly to the then established ferry to Chelsea, and through which, from time to time, there was a flow of travel eastward, that rendered it, occasionally, during each four-and-twenty hours, somewhat busier than other streets in that vicinity. The bell-tongue in the " Old North" church-spire had just pealed out the hour of eleven o clock, and the sorrowing moth er, with a newly-born infant, but a few days old, beside her, still writhed, amid her agony of mind and body, upon the humble pallet she occupied. 40 T II E U A G - P I C K K R . This woman had experienced the brighter days of romance and happiness, in previous years, for she had been united in marriage to the man of her choice, and for a goodly period thereafter had known little of care or serious trouble. But the Destroyer at length entered the hitherto comfortable and joy ous household, and the peace of the little family was periled ! At the dismal hour spoken of, upon one of the most miser able nights of that inclement season, while the mother was thus prostrated and exhausted, there approached this ancient dwelling a man who reeled slowly along the pavement, now halting a moment on the way to sustain himself by the lamp posts, and then, with fresh courage, staggering on again in search of the door of his tenement, which he nearly reached, at last. But the walk was icy, and the traveler had little control of his limbs, seemingly, for, near the low archway that led to his house, he staggered forward and fell heavily to the earth. He might have lain there to die, amid the sleet and cold, but for the timely approach of a stranger, who was hurrying down to the last ferry-boat for the night, who kindly raised him up, and bade him hasten home, lest he should perish. " Who re you ?" asked the unfortunate inebriate, in an inco herent and rude manner. " Who re you ? P raps you 11 find it prof able to go home ic yerself, and not be meddlin Avith geu lemen //ew lemen, that ask no favors o nobody !" And after this slightly dignified ebullition, as the " gentleman" exhibited unmistakable evidence of determined pugnaciousness toward the stranger, the latter pressed him gently back against the house-wall behind him, and hurried along, leaving the drunken man talking and chaffering to the winds. THEWflLLINC* SLAVE. 41 v \ \ " I ll show you" continued the poor man, as he brandished his arms awkwardly about, " that I m not to be imposed on, by nobody, nowhere ;" and throwing out his firmly-clinched hand, he dashed a furious blow at vacancy, and fell forward again, upon the hard ground. But he rallied, and after numerous efforts to get into his own habitation, first by way of the cellar door, then by the low front windows, and finally by the proper entrance. He tumbled in at the principal doorway, dragged himself heavily up the creaking staircase, and staggered into the chamber of his sick and troubled wife. " Who s that ?" queried the poor woman, as she started from the slumber she had momentarily fallen into. " Me, Annie," responded the wretched husband ; " on y me, that s all sh !" And, even in the midst of his almost totally stultified condition, the inebriate seemed for a moment to- feel that it was requisite that Annie should be kept quiet. He was covered with snow and ice, and his garments were saturated with sleet and rain, for he had been exposed to the storm for three hours previously to his return home. His sympathy for his " poor Annie," as he called her, and his dis cretion, exhibited themselves but for an instant, however ; and, dead to further thought or consideration having reached his sleeping apartment he threw himself upon the bed, beside his critically-conditioned wife, and, without removing a single shred of his wet clothing, was soon lost in heavy sleep. The poor endeavors of the wretched woman to waken him were utterly fruitless, albeit she quickly discovered the jeop ardy to which she was subjected by contiguity with the chill ing dampness of his dress. The thin and ragged coverlets 42 THE RAG-PICKER. were but a scanty protection to herself and babe, at the best ! And soon the melting ice and snow penetrated through the bed-clothes, to her increased terror and discomfort ; but the body of her husband was like a mass of lead, and a heavy la bored breathing was the only reply she obtained to her pite ous warning and remonstrances, " Henry ! Henry !" she cried, in her misery ; " pray remove him ! Henry, for God s sake, do not thus murder us ! The baby, Henry !" But the tones of her voice grew weaker. And, alone, at midnight, as with a feeble hand she endeavored to press her new-born infant closer to her bosom, lest it should be suffoca ted by his weight, poor Annie fainted with her exhausted ap peals to her miserable and prostrate husband ! CHAPTER VI. "THE GOOD DIE YOUNG." THE man had lain an hour, nearly, upon the outside of the sick wife s bed, when Dolly Curtain, a poor needle-woman, who occupied chambers on the other side of the old house, and who had been up with Annie Ellson to within a few mo ments prior to her husband s coming, re-entered the silent apartment, half en deshabille, to look after the suffering young wife s condition, whom she knew to be critically situated. Her surprise was great, and her disgust much greater, at discovering the form of Ellson stretched upon the bed which she had striven, an hour previously, to render somewhat com fortable to the unfortunate young wife, with whom she alone sympathized. "Ow! n ejaculated the woman, startled from her propriety by this sight, and quite as nervous, too, on account of having forgotten to leave her own night-cap behind her ; " wot s this?" At the exclamation Annie started, for she had recovered from her faintness, and had again fallen asleep. But, as no reply was vouchsafed by the soundly-sleeping Ellson, Dolly halted, pressed her hand upon her mouth as if to prevent the 44 THEUAG-PICKKR. uttering of what she feared would tremble from her lips, any way, and drawing an old shawl about her thin and scrauny shoulders, she advanced softly again, and said : " How are you now, ma am ?" " Bad, Dolly, bad !" murmured Annie, feebly. " Wy, the clo es is wet through and through, ma am !" " I could n t help it," continued the sufferer. " How come it ? Wy, it s ice, if I live ! ugh ! you mis- able brute," she continued, now turning her attention to the listless husband, to whose condition she quickly attributed the outrage. " It s a pity you had n t me to deal wi you," she added, seizing Ellson by the shoulders stoutly, and rolling him over upon the carpetless floor of the chamber. " I d 1 arn you better fashion, or my name arn t Dolly Curtain ; that s all !" " Don t "hurt him, Dolly don t" piteously cried Annie ; " he s helpless " " Helpless ? he s dead drunk, and the watch us d be the best place for him, I m thinkin . Here s a mess ! Wy, ma am, you ll get your death-cold, and you can t be moved curse him !" " Oh, pray don t curse him don t harm him, Dolly," be sought the poor wife, unable to raise her head from the pil low. " I ll try to get along, and / won t murmur, Dolly. God is above all, and the back will be fitted to its burden. Don t chafe, pray don t, now ! Move the baby here ; there, that s very kind of you, Dolly. Heaven will reward you. Don t harm him, will you, Dolly ?" repeated the patient Annie. Dolly said nothing more, but busied herself kindly in re-ar ranging the scanty pillows and thin bed-coverings, removing THE GOOD DIE YOUNG. 45 the wet quilts, and substituting the clothes from her own humble mattrass in their stead, while Ellson lay snoring upon the floor, in his demented helplessness, all the while, entirely unconscious as to where he was, or what was transpiring near him. " Good God !" exclaimed Dolly, suddenly, as she raised the infant up, at last, toward its mother ; " the child s as cold as a stone ! Wot s come to it, ma am ?" " What is the matter, Dolly ?" inquired Annie. " The baby, ma am," whispered Dolly, taking the child to the dimly-burning light, in the chimney corner. And just as she had feared, so it proved the infant was dead ! The kind-hearted neighbor of Mrs. Ellson was more consid erate (on a moment s reflection) than was her wont. She stifled the exclamation that rose to her lips, though she would have screamed with affright had she yielded to the sensation of horror that she experienced at the moment she made this fearful discovery ! But she thought of the shock that would be occasioned to the mother s already weakened nerves by the sudden disclosure of the terrible truth, and so she said, a moment afterwards : " It is quiet, now, ma am, and I will sit by you, here, a while." But the mother was nervous and uneasy. " Let me see the baby, Dolly, and do you go back. I am easier, now. Why should you suffer thus on my account 1 ?" She put forth her hand, and it fell upon the marble-cold cheek of her child ! She glared in Dolly s face, an instant, and with a heart-thrusting shriek, she exclaimed : 46 THERAG-PICKEK. " Dolly ! what is it what has happened ? Tell me tell me is it so ?" The word dead stuck in her throat, and she could not utter it ! " Sh, ma am," responded the good woman, still holding the dead child upon her lap ; " don t go to havin fits, now, or you 11 kill yourself, too. What s done can t be mended, as I knows of, and you must be quiet. Do, now ; that s a good woman." " Is the baby alive, Dolly ? Quick ! see if if any thing has happened," insisted the mother, frantically. But the child must have been dead a full hour, evidently. Its little limbs were stiff, and its flesh was clammy cold ! And the shocking truth flashed upon the mother s senses, with stunning force, as she fell back, and swooned again upon her troubled pillow. While Dolly sprang to the relief of Annie Ellson, her own opinion of the cause of the infant s death would have been hazarded, without a shade of qualification. And such were her feelings, under the aggravated circumstances of the case, that she would not have hesitated an instant, had she at that moment been asked the question, to have replied as did the brief-spoken Coroner, in a similar instance " Rum did it /" CHAPTER VII. ANTHONY BRITTAN. ONE bright morning in spring-time, when the apple- blossoms thickly studded the branches, and the crocus peeped out modestly from the garden borders, an aristocratic English gentleman, who " had seen better days," but who was still in the enjoyment of no inconsiderable creature comforts, (for he would gratify his appetites, and the ancient family habit, at all events,) stepped from the clean-washed steps of his rather fashionable house in C street, with rod and creel in hand, for a few days sport among the trout brooks on the Cape. His pony-chaise was in waiting before the old marble portal, and he halted a moment to see that all was " right inside." A burly-framed, but good-looking negro boy, stood by the head of the horse, and the gentleman surveyed the team a moment, drew on his gloves, and said : " Is all snug, Nappo 1" " Yis, sah," replied the servant, touching his cap respect fully. " De lines an fedders is in de portmantum, yonder ; de flies is in de book ; an de hardware an fixin s is up in de baskit. Ml rite, sah. I seed to eb ry ting myse f." 48 THE RAG-PICKER. " Very good, Nappo. I shall be absent a week. See to Kitty the mare, and let her have a warm mash at night and morning until my return ; and give her gentle walking exer cise daily." Yis, sah." " If that adventurer shows himself here, while I m away, turn him out do you mind !" "Yis, sah." " You know what I mean ?" " Yis, sah," said Nappo again. " Very good," concluded the gentleman, entering his vehicle. And a moment afterward he was en route for Sandwich. This man had but one child, a blooming daughter of seven teen, whose rare charms had captivated the hearts of more than one aspirant for her favor, and whom the father valued for many natural reasons. She was beautiful, well educated, dutiful in all ordinary matters ; but, unfortunately for parental domination, she entertained a secret and uncontrollable pas sion for a young man, who was by no manner of means up to her father s exalted ideas of social position. Though the encouragement of this person s addresses had been repeatedly and determinedly discountenanced by the fa ther of the young lady, and though he had proceeded so far as utterly to refuse him admittance to his house, yet the suitor for his daughter s hand was a very worthy and respect able man, and he was earnest in his devoirs. lie resolved to wed the daughter ; first, because he sincerely loved her, and, secondly, because she had secretly acknowledged him as the favored one, above all other competitors. Their acquaintance had been of several months standing, when the old gentleman ANTHONY BRITTAN. 49 left home upon the excursion spoken of; but the father knew nothing whatever of the real state of affairs, and least of all that his daughter was absolutely affianced, in secret, to the " adventurer" he had brought himself heartily to despise. " And to this choice would you come at last, my daugh ter ?" he Avould exclaim, angrily, when she endeavored to con vince her parent that the man she loved was worthy of her. " Have I educated you for this ? Have I watched over you, provided for you, petted you, loved you that you should be torn from me, at length, by this puny Yankee scape-grace 2" " Really, father, you do him wrong " " Hush ! I am resolved. He comes not here to poison your ear with his flattery, in the end to steal my child ! Encour age him if you will if you dare do so. Listen to his mer cenary protestations, marry him, if you will ; but you are no longer daughter of mine. From the hour you commit this error mind it ! I will disinherit you, disown you ! This was emphatic, but it fell upon the ear of the spirited and determined girl like water on the solid rock ! She loved her father, but she loved another with an altogether different sort of feeling. Her second love was unconquerable ; and, without the possession of its object, life would be a blank to her. At least such was her honest belief, and the anathemas and threats and warnings of her over-zealous parent were re ceived by her (often with fear and trembling), but without the anticipated and desired effect. The man who had thus determined to oppose the wishes of his child, had reasons of his own for the course he adopted. The fortune he had enjoyed for many years was decreasing in bulk, for ho had made sad inroads upon the principal, in the 50 THERAG-PICKEIl. previous ten years, by means of his extravagant style of living. And, besides this, certain speculations into which he had been drawn latterly, had failed him. He stooped to be lieve that he had one "marketable article" left, however! And he hoped to see his daughter united in marriage to a wealthy scion of some " noble" house, from Avhich connection he had anticipated sooner or later the patching up of his own declining fortune, while at the same time he would thus find his child " honorably" provided for. He was a thorough Briton in all his antecedents, his asso ciations, his habits, and his desires. He belonged to the last remnant of a line of long-decayed nobility, and he came to America with the fortune left him, because the investment of his means in this country afforded him a more liberal allow ance of interest than he could obtain at home. But he brought with him all his foibles, all his prejudices, all his previous habits of extravagance ; and twenty years residence in New England had in no wise changed the Englishman from what he had ever been a towering, selfish aristocrat, a determined bon vivant in society, and a strong-headed, willful tyrant in his household. Such was the man whom the daughter had now to deal with. She feared his ire, though she entertained for him the highest respect and filial love. He had never yet had occasion to visit upon his child the wrath that was innately stored within him, and which, at times, within her knowledge, had been displayed toward his attendants, or others who offended or crossed him, with vengeful and bitter, vehemence. He had now been absent from home, amid his piscatorial enjoyments, on the occasion last named, five days. Nappo ANTHONY BRITTAN. 51 had taken the best possible care of Ids favorite roadster (which he had left behind him sick), and otherwise, generally, had comported himself as a faithful servant should. This negro had been the attendant upon his master for some four or five years, and his extraordinary intelligence, and constant de- votedness to his employer, had endeared him to the family in a singular degree. He was very fond of attending upon his young " missus," as he called the daughter, and he was never happier than when he was employed by her in any commis sion that involved a little handicraft, or a show of responsi bility beyond a servant s ordinary duties or requirements. In such cases was it that Nappo shone to advantage. Faithful to the last extremity, and ever ready and willing to fly at her bidding, to accomplish whatever she desired or in structed him to perform, he had come to be valued by her for his true worth, and she felt that he was her friend, should she ever need his services at a more important juncture than had as yet occurred in her experience. ISTappo had not forgotten his master s repeated injunctions in reference to the " adventurer" (as he had been pleased, in his sarcastic spleen, to term the visitor of his young missus), but there occurred a serious bar to the execution of the old gentleman s order to " drive him out," when he made his ap pearance at the house for the young lady chanced to receive him, when he came, in person. And, as the sable-skinned servant was just in the act of preparing to make a suggestion, having reference to his absent master s wishes, his youthful missus said : " Nappo, order the carriage at ten o clock this evening." " Yis, missus." 52 THEKAG-PICKEK. And, Nappo, meantime, do not leave the house. I have business for you." " Yis, missus," repeated Nappo, respectfully. And retiring from the hall at the same moment, as the " missus" waived her hand. This was all he accomplished toward driving the adventurer out. CHAPTER VIII. THE ELOPEMENT. 1 T was a good lady. 1 T was a good lady! We may pick a thousand salads, ere e lifrht on such another herb. ALL s WELL THAT ENDS WELL. NAPPO was considerably nettled at being so suddenly put hors de combat in his good intentions toward his master ; but he consoled himself with the reflection that his missus prevented the execution of his orders, and that he would seize upon another opportunity to do the old gentleman s bidding, which opportunity, as it turned out, did not occur ! At ten o clock that evening, the carriage ordered by the young lady stood before the Englishman s door, and the daughter, accompanied by the " adventurer," entered it, with out unnecessary ceremony. The parent would return home on the following day. No inkling had been vouchsafed to the household as to the destination of the young lady, and Nappo only heard the gentleman s final remark, as he fol lowed his missus into the vehicle. "To the Elm House," said the lady s friend, addressing the coachman. And the carriage rolled away from the Eng lishman s door, leaving Nappo in a maze of bewilderment. 54 T II E R A G - P I C K E R . The young lady was attired in a close traveling habit, and the servants had placed a trunk upon the carriage, and Xappo began to suspect that something was wrong, and that, possi bly, there might be a rod in pickle for his back ! The missus had gone, however, and he had been saved the trouble of driv ing her friend out, because he had gone, voluntarily, also. But they had departed together and whither? That was the rub. What would the master say to all this ? ISTappo knew the Englishman s disposition, to a nicety, and he very soon began to think it high time that he should go, too, for he was con fident that there was something out of joint in this sudden and extraordinary movement. The Providence mail-coach, which left the door of the Elm House at ten o clock that evening, had an accession to the number of its passengers, in the persons of the two lovers. They reached their destination, duly, and at an early hour on the following day they were united in the holy bonds of wed lock, in the city of Providence, Rhode Island. The gentleman was, at that time, in the bright bloom of manhood, and the lady was a model of grace, elegance and beauty. His name we have omitted to mention it was Henry Ellson, and her s was Annie Brittan. Her last act, upon quitting her father s roof, was to place the following letter in N"appo s hand, with directions that, upon the English gentleman s return from his trouting excursion, it should be instantly delivered to him. It ran as follows : " MY FATHER, For the first time in my life, I now disobey your serious injunctions, and I pray you to forgive me. THE ELOPEMENT. 55 When you read these hastily penned lines, all blotted with my tears, I shall be a ivedded wife. I could not find it in my heart or conscience to destroy my own peace, and that of the man I loved, by following your repeated instructions upon this point, so essential to my future, and I have consented to fly from the roof of a kind, but over-zealous parent, to the arms of him who, to-morrow, before the sacred altar, will swear him self my protector and my husband. Forgive my rashness, dear father forgive Mm ! The peace of your daughter is in volved, and your pardon for this offending will command my eternal gratitude. On your return to our hitherto happy home, I shall have become the lawful wife of Henry Ellson, who is worthy of your respect, and of your daughter s love. I pray you look kindly upon our union, and believe me what ever may be your feelings or your course toward us, hereafter that I shall not cease to pray to the Giver of all good, for the constant happiness of the fondest and best of fathers. " My mother sleeps beneath the sod ! I conjure you, by the love you once bore for her, to pity me, if you deem me rash in this act ; and trust me, my still loved father, that, though I may have erred, I deem it my privilege to claim your blessing at this all-important moment of my life. Again I beseech you, forgive your loving daughter, ANNIE." The more Nappo reflected upon the subject of his suspicions, the more firmly he became fixed in his opinion that foul play was on foot. What it would result in, he could not ex actly bring his mind to determine on ; but, as the long weary night hours passed by, and morning approached again, while his young mistress did not return, the light crept in upon 56 THE BAG-PICKER, him by degrees, and he ventured, at last, upon the belief that the lady had eloped with the handsome, young man whom her father disliked. Having waited and watched for the lady s coming until broad daylight, he suddenly awoke from a brief, but sound nap, and thus "broke ground," quietly, to himself: " Wai ! de missus is goiie, clean, dis time, dat s sartin ! And massa 11 be home dis art noon, an he won t fine no Mis sy Annie here. An den he 11 say I know jess wot he 11 say, zac ly Nappo ! you big dam nigga fool you, cum yere ! War s de Missus ? Whar is she ? You knows war she is, an ef you duzz n t tell me, I break de bones ob your skin and gib you to de houn s dass a fack afore you eat your supper, you brack Satan debble. An w en I goes to open my mouf, to tell him how I don t know, massa, den he 11 tell me to shet up, you fernal nigga vill n ! I won t hear none your lies. You lie allers, an you can t speak troof ; an ef you say ee fuss word, I ll knock dem brains off o your wooly head, you brack ebony chimbly-pot sarp nt ! Dass wot massa 11 say, an he 11 do it !" Nappo concluded to leave town. Then he resolved to think the matter over again. He was well situated ; his pay was good thirty dollars a year, and found ; he had been in old Brittan s service for a long period, and possibly he mio-ht be able to manage this rather critical affair, after all. o o / The letter to his master lay upon that gentleman s center- table. It was sealed. Nappo had been named after the famed Napoleon ; but, notwithstanding that important circum stance, could not read or write. Yet the envelop looked suspicious to him. lie gazed at it with a feeling of the deep- THE ELOPEMENT. 57 est dread. It was a sort of death-warrant for him, he thought, and when his reckless, violent, tyrant-master should come to read it, he foresaw the storm that would break upon his de voted head ! The young man whom old Brittan so detested had visited the house in his master s absence, and he had not kicked him down the steps, as his employer had directed ! Here was a derilection of duty, too. What should he say in expla nation ? Nappo was in a dilemma ! But evening came, at last, and with it old Brittan. Nappo was no where to be found. Annie had left the house on the previous evening, and nobody could answer the hurried ques tions fiercely propounded to them by the uncomfortable and enraged master. As he entered his library, the letter, ad dressed to his own proper name, in his daughter s familiar hand-writing, met his gaze. A thought, a suspicion, a dread of an inexplicable something, forced itself upon his confused mind, and he involuntarily muttered : " No, no not that, not that!" and he grasped the frightful looking missive, and crumpled it rudely in his clutch, as if he would, at one gripe, have crushed out the thought the fear, that seized upon him, in spite of his best efforts to control himself. " Brittan /" he shrieked to himself, in his excitement, un consciously, " are you a man f And then he broke the seal with a nervous hand. He read but the first three lines, and as his eye glanced upon the sentence, "I shall be a wedded wife," the pent-up passion burst, and, with a terrible shout of mad despair, he fell senseless upon the library floor ! 3* CHAPTER IX. THE ELLSON FAMILY. He had no breath, no being, but in her s ; She was his voice she was his life ! ***** A change came o er the spirit of my dream. BYRON. Fon three years from the day of their nuptials, Henry and Annie Ellson were as happy in their social and family rela tions as they could well be, with the single qualification that the wife had never been able to obtain her father s forgiveness for what he termed her " ingratitude." At first, old Brittan raved, and cursed his child. Then he threatened Ellson with a suit at law for the abduction of his daughter. Then he became calmer, but never better disposed toward either the run aways. Foiled and baffled in all his early schemes to annoy his son-in-law, he finally commenced a secret war upon his credit, in the business community, which had its effect in the end. But Henry Ellson was then an honorable, high-minded man, au|l he did not retaliate upon his wife s father, when he was amply able to do so. His world of happiness was in the companionship of his darling wife, and Annie gave back his love and devotion with all the purity and fervor, and earn estness, of her confiding and grateful heart. THE E L L S O N FAMILY. 59 Immediately .upon their return from Providence, after the marriage, Ellson bore his bride to his neatly-furnished house, in a quiet street at the west end of the city, where they set tled at once, and, with a single female servant, continued to live in the enjoyment of the modest comforts of life, but al ways contented with their lot and with each other. Henry could not and did not lose sight of the fact that his fondly-loved wife had made an extraordinary sacrifice in leaving the splendid home of her wealthy parent to join her fate with his moderate and inconsiderable not to say dubious fortune. He was, at that time, in business upon his own account^ and he entertained no doubt that he was abundantly able to Slurry. But he soon found that, from some unknown cause, trade was not so promising as it had been. And then he observed a disposition on the part of his creditors within twelve months from the day of his nuptials to shun him, Avhen he sought new accommodations, or an increase of fa cilities. The secret poison of his vengeful and determined father-in-law was silently at work, but Ellson knew nothing suspected nothing of this. Annie strove in every way, compatible with duty and honor, to conciliate her unforgiving father, but all to no purpose. She wrote letter after letter to him, beseeching him to be reasonable, and to permit her to throw herself at his feet, and in person humbly to crave his leniency and mercy. He received her touching appeals, at first, with violence and con tinued curses, and finally he thrust her letters int<^the fire, unopened. " She is dead !" he said, at length ; " my daughter is dead to me, and mine, forever. I will be avenged upon him, how- CO T II E K A (i - 1 I (; K ii U. ever, lie shall not escape me, :is he fancies lie will. I will crush him to the earth, and through him the ingrate child shall feel my power, sooner or later. She has braved a fa ther s vengeance, and I will pursue her and her seducer to the death !" And he kept his promise, though he was unsuspected. The rebuke that Annie encountered through the silence of her parent (who never vouchsafed an answer to her repeated written appeals) was cause for deep pain to her gentle spirit ; but she became resigned to her fate, at last, and, at Henry s urgent request, she ceased to importune the only relative she had, upon her father s side, in the country. With pious submission to her lot, consoled by the convic tion that she had attempted all in her power to heal the breach that had, unfortunately, been made by her, and trust ing in God that her erratic father would soon relent and suf fer his child again to embrace him, Annie Ellson gave herself up to her household duties, and to the pleasing occupation of rendering her husband s home a happy one. And right joyously passed the hours, for a time, at their pretty and comfortable residence. Annie was all smiles, and Henry appreciated her continual efforts to make make him forget, at least, during the time that he spent in her society, the cares and perplexities that environed the man of busi ness. She saw a faltering, at length a slight decline in the vivacity of Henry s manners, and then a temporary exhibition of uneasiness when he came home from his daily duties at the counting-house. But she quickly rallied him, and, in the midst of his fire-side comforts so happily arrayed and so cheerfully kept up by the constancy and assiduity of his T II R K L T, S O N P A M I L T . 61 dearly-cherished Annie he forgot again his toils and the an noyances of the day. Amid all, the soothing quiet and certain happiness at tendant upon religious family service had been enjoyed regu larly at evening ; and the kind-hearted Henry never forgot to pray earnestly for the blessing of Heaven upon the father of his wife an appeal to which his Annie responded amen ! with her whole soul, notwithstanding the continued obduracy and bitter malevolence entertained toward them by her heart less parent. Yet they loved each other as fondly, and the hours passed away as blithely, in their little home, as ever, for more than two long years ; and, meantime, there came a third party to share the smiles and the caresses of the lovers. A son blessed their union, and Henry Ellson was prouder, and more digni fied, and happier than ever before. He thanked God for this gift, with a full heart, every day, and as it grew to look more and more like its " angel mother," the loving father grew to think more highly of the precious boon. And six months twelve months passed away. The cherub had grown to be a bright-eyed, rollicking, rugged child, the darling of its mother, the joy of its affectionate father. But a change had begun to creep over the spirit of the mother s dream ! Within a few weeks the husband s business had confined him to the store to a much later hour than had been his custom, hitherto. He came home worried, and out of tune, at first. The evening family prayer was omitted, and the reading of the sacred volume was deferred until the Sab bath came. Soon after this the wife observed that Henry did not return to his fireside at all until late at night, and once or 62 T H E R A G - P I C K E R . twice she thought she noticed a singular appearance in his ex pression his face seemed flushed but she suspected nothing, except that he toiled too hard and too late for his health. And then no prayers were heard at all in Ellson s dwelling. Yet, in secret, how zealously did the faithful Annie plead with her Father in. Heaven, to divert the calamity that she at length came to dwell upon ! And Henry came and went. lie kissed the sweet babe that he had many times thanked God- for, and still he smiled upon his faithful wife. But his breath was hot, and his temples throbbed violently, at times, when he came home at night, and he hurried to his pillow to sleep away his bodily and mental troubles. He was unfortunate, he said, in his business. His former friends evaded him. His creditors came to be importunate, and his trade had gone into other channels. His credit was injured at length, and the hour of his return home, at night, grew later and later. And Annie sighed, and wept, and prayed for him, but did not complain ! "Whither could she turn ? To whom could she unbosom herself, if the friend and lover, for whom she sacrificed all of worldly hope and expectation, failed her ? " Oh ! my God," would she exclaim, in her bitterness of apprehension, " have I deserved this blow ? Must all my fond anticipations thus be crushed ? Save me, Great Giver of good ! Save him my poor, my erring husband !" The midnight hour often passed before Henry came to hi.s family ; and at last a daughter was born to them. The smile he bestowed upon this gift was sickly and tame. They had been married nearly five years, and matters had latterly grown rapidly worse. Henry Ellsou failed in business, and THE ELLSON FAMILY. 63 his creditors seized his furniture. The landlord, whose rent had not been forthcoming, demanded possession of his house. And, after a while, they found themselves meanly lodged, and but poorly fed. The once gallant, comely, prosperous Ellson, was now a wayward tippler ! In vain did the fond wife plead with her adversity-stricken husband. The world was ungenerous, he said ; he had striven to make his life honorable, and his family comfortable, and his sunshine friends had deserted him. He absented himself from his meals, and then, for days together, he run riot amid the excitement caused by final reckless intoxication. He cursed his hard fate, and upbraided the father of his wife. Neglect of her and of his babes succeeded. The poisoning bowl he deemed his solace, and he drained it to the dregs of ruin, disgrace, and penury. How zealously, yet how fruitlessly, did poor Annie now strive to hide her husband s shame. How did she labor to excuse his faults to those who had no hearts to appreciate her consummate misery. How anxiously did she toil to keep body and soul together, and to what miserably degrading shifts did she not silently submit, in the hope to save her hus band, at last. How willingly and devotedly did she resign herself to his slightest wish, and how continuously did she watch for the hoped-for, prayed-for, restoration of her husband once more from the toils of the destructive Fiend who had thus ensnared and bound him ! In the midst of her crushing poverty and misery, once more did Annie appeal to her father, in the frail hope that his stubborn nature would yield, when she again confessed to him the unfortunate error of her life, and frankly exposed 64 T H E II A ti - 1 I K K l{ . to his view the terrible emergency that had driven her to crave the aid it was in his power so easily to bestow. In all the candor and earnestness of a broken and contrite spirit, with all the meekness of a despairing and affectionate daughter, she addressed to her father a letter couched in lan guage most humble, respectful, and loving, in which she be sought him to afford her relief. " She has made her own bed let her lie on it !" was his bitter reply, as he tore the missive in fragments. And then, as he sat alone in his well-appointed parlor, while a hellish smile lit up the flinty expression of his features, he continued, mentally : "The cunning, artful mynx ! She disguised the super scription that it might be sure to reach my hands, else would I have sent it back to her unopened, with a renewal of her father s curse ! Not a penny not a cent, so help me God ! I have sworn to vanquish them, and I will not relent. Ha, ha ! This is her worthy friend. This Ellson her husband the father of her brats, I suppose is the scoundrel whom she declared was worthy of her father s daughter ! I have at tended to his case, scrupulously ! The poison did its work but this is only the begirding of the end. They shall sup sorrow to their hearts content. I am childless alone in my misery. Death alone shall relieve either her or him !" The patient daughter waited anxiously for some reply to her fervent letter, but answer never came. She had been disobedient, but oh ! how fearfully had she discharged the penalty of the first and only serious fault of her life ! Again the rent fell due, and again she was obliged to say to the THE ELLSON FAMILY. 65 landlord that it was impossible for her to meet it (her hus band had not been home for three long days and nights). " The bill must be adjusted, ma am." " As soon as Mr. Ellson returns, sir he will " " I hear bad accounts of him, ma am. If the rent is paid on Saturday, well and good. If not, you must go out on Monday, ma am," said the owner of the tenement. Succor did not come. And still the faithful wife clung madly to the withered fortune of him who had once been true to her. Still she wept with him, mourned over him, struggled for him and her almost starving infants ! Still, with all her woman s constancy and forgiving kindness, did she suffer without murmuring or censuring him. And, when he came reeling to his desolate hearth, she hushed the little ones to repose, lest they should annoy him, or be alarmed by his fretful rudeness. And then, with Christian submission and loving tenderness, poor Annie Avould wipe the perspira tion from his cheeks and bathe his throbbing temples, and weep hot tears of anguish at the sight of this fearful wreck of all she loved in life, save his babes ! CHAPTER X. A MINISTER OF MERCY. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me. HOLY WRIT. ANNIE ELLSON, the changed and suffering daughter of An thony Brittan, had given birth to her third child. We have followed the downfall of the husband, from prosperity to ab solute destitution, and will resume our narrative, connectedly, once more, and look at him and his from the hour when Ave left him, eight years from the day of his joyous nuptials with Annie Brittan, the suffering wife Avho now lay upon the drenched pallet of their miserable tenement, with her dead in fant near her, overwhelmed with bodily agony and oppression of soul ! Dolly Curtain sat watching at the bedside still, fearful to move lest she should disturb the pale and weary mother, to whom she had lately administered an opiate to calm her pain ful nervousness. The Dispensary physician had called during the early part of the night, and had left behind him this an odyne, to be used if his patient were uneasy. It was the last day of the week. Dolly had received the scanty pittance that she was able to earn by the constant la bor of her hands during the six days previously, and after dis- A MINISTER OF MEKCY. 07 charging her petty current bills of expenses, she had less than a dollar in hand as a surplus. But she had her health and strength left yet, and she thanked God that she had no drunkard-husband to support and struggle with, amid her poverty. The being who, of right, should have been the prop and comfort of poor Annie Ellson, amid the pains and perils of her present situation he who was at once the origin and cause of her misery and trouble the father of the innocent, babe that now lay dead at its wretched mother s side was utterly unconscious of any thing in life, as he breathed heav ily, and occasionally muttered some incoherent words in a thick and unnatural tone, that annoyed the woman who was watching over his wife, and who was so anxious the invalid should not be awakened. But Annie slept at length, and did not open her eyes until after sunrise. By this time the somnolent effects of Ellson s debauch had passed away, and he came half to consciousness to find himself wet to the skin, and sprawling upon the hard pine floor of his sleeping-room. The day of repentance or mortification seemed to have long since passed by with him ! When he fairly awoke, he got up, looked around him, saw his still sleeping wife, and then suddenly discovered Dolly, at her bedside. He clung to the old bed-post for temporary support for his brain reeled yet, and he had only partially recovered from his stupefaction when Dolly started toward him, and seizing him stoutly by the arm, pointed straight to the cold body of his dead child, and said, in a sharp whisper : Shlook there /" 68 THE RAG-PICKER. " What what s that, Dolly, dear ?" exclaimed the poor wretch, in his silly imbecility. " Dead dead /" hissed the woman in his ear. "Dead ! Dolly, dear?" continued the man, still clinging to the bedstead ; " dead o what, Dolly ? Who killed it ? eh, Dolly, dear?" " Hush !" said the nurse, observing that Annie was stirring at this moment. And turning to the wife, she said : " Ar nt you better, ma am ?" The eyelids of the sufferer slowly parted, and closed again, but she uttered no word of reply. Ellson stood stupidly clinging to the bedstead for a moment, but evidently without realizing the awful scene in which he was now so criminal an actor. " What wha s the marr r with her ?" stammered the man, at length, after rolling his glazed and reddened eyes about the apartment, and for an instant appearing to discover, in distinctly, that there was trouble there, and that his wife was, in some manner, involved in it. " Wha s the marrer, Dolly, dear ?" " Matter ! you poor beast !" responded Dolly, in a low, but bitter tone ; " don t you see what you ve brought the poor creetur to? This comes o your rum-drinkin . God s taken the baby, and the wife 11 go soon enough, now." " What, Dolly ! Who Annie ? Go, where Dolly, dear ?" " To Heaven, I hope ; out o the reach o your woeful brut- ishness." Annie moved again, and at this moment a soft step was heard on the creaking stairs. The door opened, and the face of a reverend looking man appeared, from below stairs. " Shall I come in ?" he asked, bowing to Dolly as he ap- A MINISTER OF MEKCY. 69 preached. The woman said yes, and the visitor entered the cheerless room. He was attired in a plain black suit, and his neat white neck-cloth indicated that his mission was one of charity and love. It was Mr. Goodson, one of the city missionaries, who was no stranger in that wretched and woe-stricken family. He advanced to the bedside, where lay the emaciated form of the once beautiful Mrs. Ellson, whose spark of life glim mered but faintly, and whose countenance exhibited every to ken of approaching dissolution. Henry still stood at the foot of the bed, without speaking, or seeming to notice the presence of the new comer at all. " She is failing," said Mr. Goodson, softly, turning to Dolly. " She s very bad, sir." " Has the doctor been in ?" " Not to-day, sir. He came last evening. Doctors ain t no good to her, sir ; she s clean gone, I m afear d !" " Let us pray, responded the missionary, in a quiet, but solemn tone ; and he knelt at the foot of the low pallet, while the illiterate Dolly Curtain sunk beside him, and in her hum ble manner joined, with all her honesty of heart, in the fer vent supplication that the man of God breathed forth to the Father of Mercies, in behalf of the invalid, her husband, and her babes. He prayed in faith. With a firm reliance upon the pow er and beneficence of the Good Being whose arm was mighty to save, and who suffered not even the sparrow to fall without his notice, he besought God to permit the bitter cup to pass away from this long-afflicted family, and to restore the wife and mother to health, and to her babes. 70 THE RAG-PICKER. And then he pleaded for the miserable, recreant husband, in touching tones of commiseration and sympathy. lie begged that the poor inebriate might be reclaimed, and that he might yet be aroused and turned from the fearful path into which his error had led him ; that he might be brought back to happiness, to peace, and to a new realization of the "joy that passeth understanding," through the merits of the Redeemer, who died for the sinner that repented and returned to him ! A low sob was heard a sigh and then a heart-gushing " AMEN !" fell from, the lips of the wife, as this fervent sup plication ceased. Then taking from his breast the holy vol ume, that he constantly bore with him in his round of duty, Mr. Goodson repeated from its pages, in a soothing voice, such passages of the Scriptures as he deemed appropriate and consoling to the sufferer in her present hour of deep af fliction. In spite of all entreaty on the part of Dolly and the gentle Mr. Goodson, the discomfited husband forced his way down the stairs and disappeared amid the rudeness of the continued storm. With all the soothing eloquence he possessed, the man of God still lingered to comfort with soft words and kindly en couragement the failing and shattered senses of Mrs. Ellson. T?ut she soon took little further notice of his attentions. Her thin white arms were thrown above her head, at first, and then a wild, unnatural expression pervaded her features. The glassy eye brightened, and she gazed sharply at vacancy, as if a phantom waved over or before her. Then the names of her children were mentioned her husband her father but unconnectedly, and without apparent meaning. CHAPTER XI. THE INVALID AND HER BABES. " I wish lie would corne," ventured Dolly, in a whisper, at length. " Who 2" asked Mr. Goodson. " The doctor, sir. lie can t do her no good, I m sure ; but then, I don t like to see her taking on so, and nobody here but me too look to her ; it s too responsible, like, and one dead one s enough, at a time," she added, pointing to the in fant. " Dead, did you say," queried the reverend man. " Oh, yes, sir ; since last night, or rather, early this morn ing." " But you did not speak of this ?" " No, sir, I did n t, cause I thought you noticed it when you come in." "Dead! Poor child. Well, well; it is better off, in Heaven, verily !" said the pious missionary. " So I m thinkin . But there s the other two little ones, you know, sir," added Dolly. " Yes, yes ; it is sad, indeed. Truly, a house of suffering and mourning." 72 TIIERAG-PICKEK. The doctor entered at this moment. He felt the patient s pulse, mechanically, and spoke to her, but she made him no reply. " How is she, doctor ?" asked Dolly. " Her pulse is very low very. But she will rally again. Prostration, only mental and physical suffering, combined. She took the opiate, Dolly ?" "Yes, sir." " Let her remain quiet, then. Keep that wretch of a hus band away from the room, and the children from annoying or disturbing her. She will come up again, I think." Dolly shook her head. The physician retired, and the woman said : "Doctors knows a good deal, sir, but they don t know every thing. Mrs. Ellson 11 die, sir." " Perhaps not, Dolly. God, in his wisdom and mercy, may yet spare her to care for and protect her little ones, peradventure. "We may not despair. While there is life, there is hope, Dolly." " Yes, sir. You wall come in again ?" " O, certainly ; I will call at evening, and I shall hope to find her better." " It s very kind of you, sir ; and it makes us all feel so much better to hear you talk and pray with her, for she s very bad, and I think her troubles is about over, sir." As Mr. Goodson went out, the faces of two youngsters were seen in the narrow entry-way, at the head of the stairs. They were the two children of Annie and Henry Ellson, and they were waiting for the man in the " meeting clothes" to depart, before they would venture into the sick room. As the THE INVALID AND HER BABES. 7o missionary passed by, they crouched in the corner, out of sight for the moment, as the eldest whispered : " Hush, you, Carrie ! he 11 see us if you don t." And Carrie nestled down behind her brother, with her little hands folded between her knees, in order to reduce her dimensions to the least possible compass, lest she should be discovered by the " big man with the clean shirt on," as she denominated Mr. Goodson. The piercing jet-black eyes of sweet little Carrie peered out from her retreat, and though they scarcely breathed, Mr. Good- son saw the two fugitives just as he was descending the stairs. He halted, turned kindly toward them, and Dolly closed the door of the sick room, as he said, with a benevo lent smile : " Come here, Toney ; come and see me. And you, too, Carrie ; I Ve something to tell you." The children were diffident, but they approached the kind- hearted man, who spoke to them, in a loving and subdued tone, of their mother s illness. Toney was the first-born of the Ellsons, and, notwithstand ing the continued ill feeling that Annie s father harbored toward his daughter, she had named her son Anthony Brit- tan, after its grandfather. The youngest was Clara, or Carrie, as she had always been called, and both were promising children, for their ages. Toney was now seven, and Carrie was past four years old. " Do you know, little ones," said Mr. Goodson, mildly, " that mother is very sick ?" " Yes," said Toney, " and I m sorry, too." " Poor mamma !" chimed in little Carrie. " Then you will be very good, I Ve no doubt, and try to be 4 74 THE RAG-PICKER. quiet, and not make a noise that shall worry poor sick mam ma ; won t you ?" continued Mr. Goodson. "/will be still," said Toney. " I, too," said Carrie ; " I, too." " That is right. I love little children, very much, and es pecially good, obedient children. You will be good, won t you ?" " Yes," said both at once. " Then I will love you, and every body Avill love you ; and God will love and bless you in your future lives." " But every body don t love us, now," suggested the boy, suddenly, and looking into Mr. Goodson s face as if he would like an explanation of the assertion he had just dropped. " No ?" queried the missionary, a little perplexed by this rather unexpected remark ; " who don t love you ?" " Well," continued Toney, " every body don t." " And who, for instance ?" " Papa don t," said Carrie, quickly, but in a whisper. " Papa does n t love us," continued the eldest, as soon as the ice seemed thus to be broken. " Perhaps you are mistaken, Toney, my son," responded the reverend man, hardly knowing what reply to make to this pointed opinion of the children. " I know he don t," persisted the boy. " I, too," followed Carrie. " You, too !" exclaimed Mr. Goodson. " Surely, papa loves his pretty Carrie." " No, no," insisted the little one. "And how do you know ? That is I mean, Avhy do you think that your father don t love you ?" THE INVALID AND HER BABES. 75 " Cause he beats us, and don t give us nothing that other boys and girls fathers do," said Toney. " An he plagues mamma, too," added Carrie. "He keeps getting sick, all the time, and mamma tells him how to get well again, and he don t mind what she says, on y goes and gets sick right off, and and sometimes falls right down on the floor, when he s bad." " An an don t git up again," said Carrie. The little ones were silent, but by no means idle observ ers of their unhappy father s conduct; but they were too young too realize how deeply their innocent words penetrated the heart of the sympathetic Mr. Goodson, as he patted them gently on the cheeks, kissed them, and, with the assurance that father and mother would soon get better, he hoped, the missionary, with tears in his eyes, withdrew from the most trying scene it had been his lot for many a day to witness. The babe was a weakly thing, and had been so from the moment of its birth. There were none to inquire into the cause of its death, for who could have wished that it might have lived, to be a burden to itself, or a tax upon the author ities 1 It was dead it was buried and was forgotten! Such had been the condition of its father, for a week, that he knew little about the affair, at all when it was born, or when it was laid beneath the sod. Its mother still suffered on, and, attended only by Dolly (when she could steal a mo ment or two by day, from her necessarily active labor) and the Dispensary doctor, she at last began to improve slowly, and, after six weeks confinement, was able once more to help herself a little. But she was entirely dependent upon the charity of her 76 THE RAG-PICKER. poor neighbors, and she strove to get about at the earliest pos sible moment, without regard to the warnings of Dolly and the district physician, who saw the peril to which she was exposed by her anxiety and imprudence. Yet she declared that she had a duty to perform, and though the task was a fearful undertaking, in her feeble and dubious state of health, she must find some means to save herself and her babes from starvation. She felt that her afflictions were heavy, indeed, but she relied humbly in Providence, and still believed that " the back would be fitted to its burden !" Poor Annie! Poor, heart-broken, wearied, woe-stricken, yet hopeful Annie Ellson ! How little did she dream what Fate had still in store for her, in the undeveloped future ! CHAPTER XII. BEDLAM! The deepest ice that ever froze Can only o er the surface close ; The living stream lies quick below And flows and can not cease to flow !" As we have already noted, the strictest injunctions were given by old Brittan to his household, after the elopement and marriage of his daughter, that on no consideration what ever should any of his servants or attaches communicate with Annie, upon pain of instant dismissal from his service ; and further, that if she intruded herself upon his premises, it should become the duty of any and every attendant in his house to eject her, forthwith, without parley or explanation. But the daughter of the haughty and arrogant Anthony Brittan had too much of her father s blood coursing in her veins to permit herself to be placed, voluntarily, in a position that might compromise her feelings and her person, in this manner, for she knew the determined disposition of her father, and she preferred to wait for time to correct his ill temper, rather than risk any disgrace and contumely at the hands of his meuials. But she really reckoned without her host, and waited in 78 THE RAG-PICKER. vain. After a time, tlie obdurate old man merely replied that she was dead, when Annie was casually inquired for, and years passed away, after her nuptials, without her ever seeing her unnatural parent, or hearing from him, in any manner whatever, directly. But Annie rallied after her last accouchement, though her at tendant and the district charity-doctor had, at one time, enter tained very little hope of her recovery from the serious illness we have already described. Through the aid of Dolly Curtain, she at last obtained some needle-work, by which means she contrived, for a little time, to keep the wolf from the door, though the labor was trying to her, inexperienced as she was, and the pay uncertain and indifferent, at best. She was hurrying home, one afternoon, with a huge bundle in her arms, from the warehouse that fur nished her with coarse clothing to make up, when she sud denly encountered the burly figure of her former servant, who was still in her father s service the veritable Nappo who recognized her, but who had not seen her before for many a long and weary year. The negro had grown portly since she met him last, but there was no mistaking his form and features. " God-a-massy, Missus Annie!" exclaimed her sable ac quaintance, " w y dis is n t you ?" and the well-fed attendant of old Brittan could really scarcely believe the evidence of his own vision. Mrs. Ellson halted, and then replied, " Do you remember me, Nappo P " "Wot you doin wid dat bun le, missus? Whar you gwine to? Whar you bin? Wot de debble beg pard n, BEDLAM. 79 missus but massa say you dead, long go. Ain t you dead, missus ? Was n t you dead, no how ?" The poor African had no words at command for this un expected interview, and he did not know how to act, or what he should say under the circumstances. The announcement that Nappo made sounded fearfully strange to the ears of poor Annie, albeit she had long been accustomed to reproach and abuse. But those words cut her to the heart ! "Dead," echoed Annie; "no, no! he did not say that, Nappo, did he 2" " Dat s wot massa say,, two, tree, four hunderd time, missus." (The subject had never been mentioned but twice in Nappe s hearing !) " You see me, Nappo, nevertheless, alive, though somewhat changed since the old times when I knew a father s love, and the comforts of a home. I have no home now, Nappo !" " No home !" exclaimed the negro, " no home ? Whar you lib den, missus ?" " It does n t matter, Nappo. Are you still in the employ of your master Brittan 2" " Yis, missus." " And does he treat you well ?" " Well as ever, missus but gib me de bun le, missus," he continued. " No ; you will jeopardize yourself, and lose your place, if you should be seen serving me in this way, Nappo." " Nebber min dat, missus. I ken git anodder," and he in stantly took the parcel out of her hands. * Now, missy, you go on, an Nappo 11 follow. Go rite 80 THE RAG-PICKER. long ; an ef I ken do any good for you I 11 do it, and massa may sware de legs off ob him, if he likes. God hab massy on de poor cretur !" he added, as Annie went forward, rather than risk a scene upon the pavement in public. And five minutes afterward, with Nappo close at her heels, she arrived before the little low arch that led to her humble abode, in the rear of the Street we first described in these pages. It was a severe blow to her already lacerated heart, and she would gladly have prevented the old servant of herself and her father from entering her miserable domicile ; but Nappo insisted upon carrying the bundle up the creaking stairs, in spite of her remonstrances and entreaties. "I don t want to do nuff n to disbleege nobody," said the good-hearted fellow, " but, in de Lord s name, missy, wot all dis mean ? You don t lib ere ?" " I am very poor now, Nappo," said Annie, " and, although I preferred to save you the trouble and myself the mortifica tion of this visit on your part, yet you see me as I am alone, without the means to support myself, or my two little ones, except by what I can earn from making up the clothing I get from a house near by, a quantity of which I was bearing hither when you met me. Your master my father refuses to aid me ; my husband is sick, and I am driven to the sad extreme which you now witness." Nappo could not control himself! He wept like a child. And scarcely vouchsafing a word by way of reply, simply re marked, " I 11 come back, missus, presently," and darted from the house. Without the slightest delay, and forgetting all considera tions, or the repeated directions promulgated by her father,. BEDLAM. 81 Nappo rushed home, and instantly forced himself into old Brittan s presence. " Beg pard n, massa," he said, all out of breath with his unusual foot exercise, " but I wus gwine down street jes now, haf nour go, and I seed Missus Annie and I " " Saw who ?" yelled the old man, quickly. "Missus." " Who do you mean by missus ?" " W y, Missus Annie." " No you did n t, you scoundrel !" " Fore God, massa, I seed Missy Annie. An I know d her for sart n ; an I speak wid her. An she say " "You spoke to her, you black rascal 3" " Yis, massa, o course I did, w en missus spoke to me. Ob course." " Have n t I told you your mistress was dead ?" screamed Brittan, enraged. "And haven t I bid you to attend to my business, and keep yourself at home, and not " " But, massa," continued Nappo, astounded at the man s ex traordinary words and manner. "Do you want me to throttle you, you infernal devil s imp !" continued old Brittan. " Oh, Lord ! No, massa, no no !" screamed Nappo, amid his terror and ignorance. " Then look you ! you ignorant lump of ebony," continued Brittan, springing fiercely up, and seizing his servant stoutly by the throat, "if you ever mention that name again in my presence, if you ever speak it to any body else, or if I ever hear of your knowing any thing of her, or hers, directly or indirectly, remember, I 11 choke you ! Do you mind ? n 4* 82 THE RAG-PICKER. " Yis, sail yis, sail !" shouted poor Nappo, as well as he could through his half-closed wind-pipe, that old Brittan clutched in his maddened gripe. " Go then," bellowed his enraged master, as he gave Nappo a severe buffet on the side of the head with "his clinched hand, and another with his riding-boot, as the frightened negro sprang from his grasp. " Go ! and if I hear of your leaving this house, upon any pretense whatever, for the next week for seven days, mind you, you treacherous thief I 11 send the sheriff after you." This threat, enforced with a favorite oath, had the desired effect upon the nerves of the negro, who was desperately alarmed, and who entertained the belief that his master had the entire right to dispose of him, body and soul, when and how it might please him. Skulking down the stairs, he took care that Brittan s directions, so emphatically expressed, should not be disobeyed ! He did not leave his master s residence, for a moment, during the next ten days, and the name of his " missus," whom he heartily sympathized with, notwithstand ing, was in no way alluded to by him during that period. The intentions of the humble African were good, and when he left the desolate tenement of her whom he had formerly known as the cherished daughter of his opulent master, he purposed to return forthwith, as he imagined, in his innocence, with Brittan s carriage, to bear to her father s embrace what he supposed to be his long-lost child ! He fancied that the intelligence he carried to the Englishman would prove most welcome news, and that the parent would fly with him to press to his heart and succor the suffering victim of lie knew not what. His surprise and consternation at the treatment BEDLAM. 83 he encountered may be well imagined ; and the fears he sub sequently felt were so serious that he dared not open his lips on the subject to any living soul. Annie Ellson saw nothing more of Nappo, and she readily conjectured what had transpired. She was satisfied that her humble friend had gone directly to her father, probably, in his anxiety to save her, and she entertained no doubt of the result. She went to her toil, again, and amid her zealous endeavors to accomplish what she deemed necessary to save herself and her children from a worse fate than they had yet experienced, she overtasked her powers but frail and weakly at the best and, in a few days, found herself prostrated again upon a fe vered pillow. The kindly and careful nursing of poor Dolly Curtain, the attention of the Dispensary physician, the consol ing words and solicitous visits of the generous Mr. Goodson, availed her nothing. Her malady increased, the fever grew hourly more threat ening, the delicate nerves of the invalid had received a more trying shock than ever before. And in the midst of all, the cruel husband returned, after a week s absence, raving from the horrible effects of recent excesses. Reckless of consequences, ferocious in his temporary delir ium, frantic in his gestures and deportment, he hurried into the sick room, in spite of opposition, declaring that all the world had turned upon him in his adversity, and swearing ven geance upon Brittan, his wife, his children, and his neighbors. Dolly stood boldly at the door to impede the entrance of the dangerous man, but he hurled her aside and sprang wildly into the room. He seized his boy, who chanced to be near 84 THE RAG-PICKER. Iris mother s bed, and dashed him madly across the apart ment, in his frenzy, with a force that periled the child s ex istence. Carrie was removed out of his. reach, seasonably, while Dolly shrieked aloud for help. Grasping the poor woman by the arms, he again dashed her headlong across the narrow entry, where she lay for some minutes, stunned by the fall, but not seriously injured, as it happened. Then, returning to his own room, he caught up the burning lamp, and deliberately thrust it into the corner of the straw bed, upon which lay the helpless form of his wife, and, with a hellish shriek, danced across the floor at behold ing the clothes and mattrass in flames ! " Help, help ! murder !" yelled Dolly Curtain. " Help ! murder !" echoed the maniac drunkard ; and the screams of the boy, the shouting of poor Dolly, and the piercing groans of the wife, who was being roasted alive, soon brought assistance from without. " Ha, ha, 7ta /" roared the madman, as he continued to jump and toss his clinched hands in the air ; " ha, ha ! that s it yell shout away ! Murder ! Who s murdered but me ? I say murder, too ! Hurra ! Ha, ha, ha /" A brace of watchmen tumbled up the stairs, and the wretched man was seized in the midst of his delirium. " Save her, save her /" screamed Dolly, pointing to the burning bed. " Quick ! for God s sake, save the woman !" " The house is on fire," said one of the night-guardians. " Well, Bowson, we ve got our hands full with this subject, I m thinking," responded the other, as Ellson struggled fear fully between the two men. But they forced him down the stairs, and finally out upon the walk. BEDLAM. 85 " Spring your rattle," suggested the first speaker. " Spring the devil ! How am I to spring any tiling, now ? He s stronger than a horse. Knock him down !" was the re ply ; and down went the prisoner, at the word. He was quickly ironed and secured, and after this summary perform ance additional aid came up. The smoke was pouring out from the doors and windows, and Dolly Curtain was encountered upon the rickety stairway, bearing the body of a female, wrapped hurriedly in an old blanket. Another woman came down with two children in her arms, and the alarm of fire became general. Before the wife and little ones could possibly be bestowed in a place of temporary shelter, the flames had communicated to the ceil ing, and the work of certain destruction had commenced in the dilapidated building. " Fire ! fire ! fire !" broke out upon the night-stillness from the lungs of the watchmen. " Fire ! fire !" shouted poor Henry Ellson, in his continued madness. " Fire ! help ! murder !" he yelled ; and long after he was placed in the station-house he continued to shriek " Fire, murder, fire !" The old house and its contents, every thing that belonged to the unfortunate Dolly Curtain and her over-head neighbor, and to Ellson s family, was destroyed in the burning ; but, luckily, no lives were sacrificed. Mrs. Ellson was found in a dreadful condition, subsequently, her limbs being badly scorched. During her removal from the house she had taken a violent cold, and her fever, hitherto fearful enough, had thus been greatly augmented. Before day break she became a raving maniac, and the cries she sent up, 86 THERAG-PICKEK. from distress of mind and agony of body, were heart-rending to those who were compelled to hear them. " Don t hurt him" she said, in her piteous tones, " don t hurt Henry ! He is innocent ! / did it I, I, // Don t don t ! Toney ! Carrie ! come here ; don t you see poor father there ? Save him save him ! Save my husband !" She became more calm at last, but gave no signs of present consciousness. She was removed to the dwelling of a neigh bor, thence to the hospital, and finally to the Lunatic Asylum. For three weeks Dolly attended her, but she grew worse and worse. Her fever left her for a time, but she recognized no one, not even her babes, her long-loved little ones. And within six weeks, she was placed in close quarters, under sur veillance, as a confirmed and thorough lunatic. This, then, was the " beginning of the end." Annie Ellson, the proud and beautiful daughter of the wealthy Brittan the once gentle girl, who had been reared in luxury and ease, and who had never known a shade of sorrow till two years after her marriage with the erring husband of her choice Annie Brittan, the heart-broken wife, whose form was now mutilated, find whose mind was shattered by crushing adversity, was a helpless inmate of the county mad-house ! CHAPTER XIII. A SURPRISE. Mate any shape but that, And my firm nerves shall never tremble 1 SHAKESPEAKE. THE inexorable and brutish Brittan had sworn in his flinty heart that he would never forgive or recognize his child again, and for a while his base conduct was winked at by those who surrounded him, many of whom, even, had acquainted them selves with the details of the flimsy cause of his unnatural bit terness toward his really innocent victim. But, as there is a termination to this sort of tolerance, after a time, and as such inexcusably cruel persecution oftener than otherwise results in sympathy for the weaker party to such a cause the more especially when its object is a gentle and loving woman so, when the newspapers of the day announced the recent fire that had occurred, and alluded to the poor per son who had then and there been so endangered, as " a young woman belonging to a family of wealth, who had discarded and deserted her, and had left .her amid her misery to suffer on," the tide turned ; and the tyrant father was sought out, and soon found himself besieged by benevolent charity-seekers, and zealous friends of the unfortunate Annie, who besought 88 THE RAG-PICKER. him to relent, and save his abused and wretched daughter from the terrible fate that now imminently threatened her. He raved and cursed more furiously than ever, and wrought himself into a paroxysm of opposition at the importunity of those who presumed thus to approach him. " Let her die," he cried ; " she s already dead, I say, and I m glad of it. I will hear nothing, submit to nothing, and he rudely drove the applicants from his presence, with fearful oaths and curses for their reward ! He retired to his private library, in search of relaxation after his late excitement, and his rage had scarcely half- subsided when Nappo entered, and informed him that a stranger was in waiting to confer with him in the reception- room. " "What now ?" screamed old Brittan, springing to his feet and starting the servant by his fierceness of manner. " More cringers ? More begging, starving, graceless go-betweens ? Who let him in? Who opened the door? Who why look you, you devil s imp ! you mean I shall kill you yet I know you do !" " De gen leman call, an I I " " Gentleman ! I tell you he s a beggar, a hound, a lackey, a damned jackall-thief, and you know it. He comes here to - to rob me ! To to turn him out ! Damn him, turn him out doors, I say out the window ! I ll see no more of em, do you hear no more ! Who is he ? What s his name ? Ask him what he wants. I won t see him. I won t hear a word he has to say. He s a a " " He gib me dis card," ventured Nappo at this juncture, " an I link he s a gen leman, sah." A SURPRISE. 89 " Card ? "Who what is it ?" queried old Brittan, snatching it from Nappo s hand. And he read upon it, " RALPH TASKEM. Tennessee" " Eh ?" muttered Brittan, reading the card over, " Taskem, Taskem? Tennessee. That s a new name to me. I I don t know him. I think, Nappo I don t think he s one of the a perhaps he is n t." " So I tink, myse f," ventured Nappo, glad to notice the mollifying effect produced on his master s nerves by the dis covery he seemed to have made, but which the servant did not in any wise comprehend. " I tink so too, sah." " Well, Nappo, I did n t did n t speak very loud, did I ?" "No, sah, no," responded Nappo, cunningly, and disposed to coincide with his erratic master, lest that worthy should floor him for opposing his assertion. " The gentleman could n t have overheard my my playful re marks just now, could he, possibly, Nappo ?" continued Brittan. " No, sah. De gen leman s in de drawin-room, more n firty feet off; an you nebber speaks sose noboddy ken hear you w en you " Brittan scowled, and said in a softened tone : " Tell the gentleman I will wait upon him in a moment, Nappo." And, as the servant went out, Mr. Brittan turned to his mirror, adjusted his cravat, and with a cough and a hem or two to recompose himself, he entered the apartment where sat Ralph Taskem, Esq., from Tennessee, awaiting his coming ; while Nappo, in a singularly thoughtful mood, disappeared. " Mr. Brittan, I persume," remarked the Southerner, as the Englishman came toward him with extended hand. 90 THE RAG-PICKER. " Mr. Taskem," responded the other, " I am happy to see you. Recently from the south, Mr. Taskem ?" " Within a week, sir," said the Tennessee man. Brittan was reassured upon hearing the announcement, for he felt convinced that this man, at least, could know nothing of his domestic troubles ; and he, therefore, became quickly composed, and anxious to proceed with the business of the stranger, whatever it might be. Mr. Taskem was a red-haired, freckled-faced, bluff-looking man of five-and-forty, perhaps. His features were in nowise remarkable, and he M ould move unobserved in a crowd, unless the selfish and avaricious twinkling in his clear gray eye might have challenged a passing observation. He was hand somely dressed, his manner was off-hand and abrupt, but his general appearance struck the Englishman favorably, at sight. Nappo thought the matter over after he left the stranger the second time, and, somehow or other, he imagined that he had seen this person before, somewhere, at some remote, indefinite period, within his remembrance. But he could not determine how, or when, or where. It was a matter of no consequence, he thought, however, and he soon ceased to dwell upon the circumstance. " My business with yer, Mr. Brittan," said the caller, at length, " is none o the pleasantest. I m a plain spoken man, myself, an I think a heap o plain dealin people, yer see." " Exactly exactly, Mr. Tasker," said Brittan, slightly con cerned for the next announcement. " Taskem, if yer please," said the Southerner, correcting Brittan s mispronunciation of his name. A SURPRISE. 91 " I say it s mighty onpleasant, sir, to interfere in any gen tleman s domestic arrange " "Just as I supposed," remarked Brittan, beginning to warm up again; "just as I expected. You ve come here to meddle with, my private family affairs, and I " " Not that, quite," interposed Mr. Taskem, quickly. " Don t misonderstan me, sir." "I know what you re coming to, Tasker it s the old story. She s dead, I tell you dead to me and mine, for ever, s elp me " She ?" said Taskem, stopping him in the midst of his cus tomary finale ; " she ? You mean the old woman ; well, she arn t dead ; leastwise she s caved sence I left Memphis, three weeks ago." " Very well," continued Brittan, zealously ; " I don t know about that. In my domestic concerns I allow nobody to advise me or dictate to me." " But the law," continued Taskem. " There s no law to compel me to budge an inch in my long since settled determination," added the Englishman, wax ing more and more vehement in his language. " There s no such law, and I " " Then ther s a moral law, sir," replied Taskem ; " a moral dooty we owe to each other." " I won t listen to it, sir." " There s the Constitution." " Curse the Constitution ! I m a free man an Eng lishman a free agent ! What s mine s mine, and I m bound to protect my property and myself, and I submit to no" 92 THE BAG-PICKER. " But, Brittan, ye re a reasonable man, o course. Ef we can show yer " " I don t want to be shown any thing. I Ve seen enough enough ! and I won t look at compromises." "Well, then," continued Tashem, rising as if to go, and altogether undisturbed by Brittan s rudeness toward him, " I Ve got all the papers, and I ken prove it, easy s open and shet. I d ruther have hed no trouble with yer about him> but, ef you re ugly, I must do my next best." And he but toned up his coat again. CHAPTER XIV. THE EXPLANATION. -Tour pardon, Master Brooke. That s quite another thing ! Your health, sir." THE two men looked at each other for a moment, but Tashem offered nothing more. Brittan was confused. " Him ?" he queried, perceiving that there was an evident misunderstanding, in some way ; " who do you mean by him ? He doesn t expect any thing at my hands, does he? He has n t the impudence to to set up any any claim on me, for God s sake ! Has he ? I m an Englishman, Mr. Tashem ; a Briton, born and bred. I ve been in this country twenty years and more, and I ve endeavored to act like a good cit izen and a a Christian. But, if that s his game if he supposes he can swindle me in that way in this way, I mean he s damnably mistaken ! I beg pardon for swearing, sir, but you don t know what I ve suffered with him, and her you don t and I ll sink every dollar I m worth, every shil ling, and work my passage back to London, before I 11 give him or her a farthing. You re a lawyer. I see it. You Ve got the papers. Perhaps you re a sheriff. Go on, then! Attach, seize, sell me out ! I won t give up, I tell you. I 94 THE RAG-PICKER. won t yield ! I 11 curse em curse him and her, both of em, as long as I have breath ! And when I m dead, my ghost my dead ghost shall haunt em when they re asleep at night, in each other s arms. I will, so help me , I Avill !" Nappo passed through the hall just as his employer was uttering this emphatic speech, and he trembled for the fate of the stranger, whoever he was, for there was no mistaking the disposition and the words of his excited and furious master. Poor Nappo ! He little suspected Avho that stranger was, and less of the fatal object of Tashem s present mission ! " Look yere, Brittan," said Taskem, again. " Yer chafing for nothing. I m no lawyer, at all. Yer ve got a piece o my property yere, in yer house, an I Ve come yere to show yer the evidence that it s mine. Ef yer 11 listen, I 11 explain it to yer." " Property ?" queried Brittan, cooling off as suddenly as he had become heated ; " don t you mean to beg, and pester me about her, or a him ?" " Nothin o the sort. My friend, John Schaffer, of Ken tucky, bought a nigger at- public vandoo, five-and-twenty year ago, an she had a boy at come with her,~yer see. Well, w en the youngling was ten year old, she run away and tuk him with er. Arter a while they ketched her ag in, an tuk keer that she should n t get off a second time. But the boy was inissin , an could n t be tracked. They sent him up to Can- ady, an then he was brought, by some of the busy-bodies, down yere. A friend of John s was up yere two months ago, an he see the boy in the street, an followed him yere, to yer house. I bought him at a ventur , yer see, of Schaffer. I know d his mother, an him, too. I Ve cyme on yere, and I THE EXPLANATION. 95 can swear to him, though I hain t seen him, before, sence he was knee high. His name ar n t changed, even ; an I sh ud know him, now, mong a heap o niggers." " Well, well, Mr. Taskem," said Brittan, greatly relieved by this story, " what a what s all that to do with me ?" " Well, that Nappo yer Ve got yere is my nigger ; that s all, Mr. Brittan," replied Taskem, coolly. " Nappo !" exclaimed Brittan, curiously. Do you mean to say that Nappo was ever a slave, Mr. Taskem ?" "Nothin else," responded the stranger; "an his mother and gran mother before him." " And you ve come here to to claim him ?" " That s it ; an I take it, Mr. Brittan, yer a reasonable man, I say ag in. People give yer the credit o bein so, an all I want is what b longs to me, yer see." Brittan was an Englishman born. He hailed from the laud that is lauded as the home of freemen. Yet, in his heart, he was overjoyed at the story of the slave-hunter before him ! The mission of Taskem was a perfect god-send to him. It smacked of excitement. It savored of tyranny, and oppression, and petty power the power of the devil over innocence and poverty ! The " free-born Briton" was silent for a moment, and the stranger actively watched his features. Taskem was a man of the world ; he could read human nature as he could an open book, and he divined the very thoughts that were pass ing in Brittan s mind, though the latter was indifferent to the stranger s surmises. At that moment occurred the turning- point in Brittan s life ! With a fiendish smile of satisfaction he rose from his seat, and sprung the bell-pull violently. The summons was quickly answered by a domestic. 96 THE RAG-PICKER. " Wine, Matthew wine and cigars," he said. And, as the servant retired, he approached the still quiet and calculating Southerner with " Taskem, I m glad to see you ! Upon niy word now that I know you," (how well he knew this man !) he con tinued, " I m delighted to greet you. I Ve long desired the opportunity to meet a gentleman like yourself, with a with whom I could converse freely and understand ingly about these matters ; with which I m sure you must be conversant." Taskem responded cordially to the advances of Brittan, whose reputed wealth and influence were so great, and whom he had found to be thus approachable. The two men who had thus casually met, and whose heart-sentiments were really so closely, in accord, quickly found themselves engaged in earnest and confidential intercourse. " It s a queer circumstance, this," said Brittan, passing the wine, "a singular meeting upon my word. But, do you know, Taskem, I ve always entertained notions very favorable to your profession that is, I mean toward your calling or occupation, rather." " That ud seem sing lar at fust blush," responded the Southerner, " but gentlemen ov liberal views, like yerself, has no occasion to feel otherways. Yer see, sir, we southern mer chants are vilified and condemned by those as don t predate us. But w en gentlemen look at the subjeck in the right sperrit, they allers come to gree with us. I ve seen a good many ntelligent Englishmen in my day, an I never met one, yit, at didn t think as we do, now w en they came to talk candidly and fairly." (Taskem had never seen a Briton be fore in his life !) THE EXPLANATION. 97 " The institution of slavery is a blessing, I Ve no manner of doubt," said Brittan, " take it all in all. And do you know," he continued in a subdued voice, to his cunning guest, " do you know, Taskem, that I often wish my money was invested in that very kind of property ?" " Yer don t say so !" exclaimed Taskem, really surprised at this extraordinary confession on the part of his entertainer. " But I do, though, nevertheless," continued Brittan. " And if I could do it -judiciously, you know I d go South to live, to-morrow !" " Yer would ?" replied the slave-hunter. " I would, upon my honor." " Then w y don t yer, Brittan ? You d make a capitle pro prietor; an the thing 11 pay, yer see. It d come a little squeamish-like at fust, but yer d soon git us t to it. An I d bet my life on it, yer d turn out a regular brick in the pro fession !" "He, he, he!" laughed Brittan, at this thought. The bitter, unrelenting, brutal father laughed! He prided him self upon being a two-bottle man ; but they had emptied only two bottjes between them, thus far, yet the old Englishman had got to be as lively as a cricket a fact that Taskem did not fail to observe. " Taskem," he said, as fresh wine came in, " I 11 help you in this thing." " What thing ?" " Nappo s affair." " Ah yes, yes. Ther 11 be no trouble though, I reck n." " It s a good while back to prove the claim, nevertheless," suggested Brittan, shrewdly. 98 THERAG-PICKEIU " Leave me to manage that." " When will you commence ?" " To-morrow ; the dockiments are all ready." " You may count on me, Taskem ; I 11 be your friend." After a few words more, the two knaves separated, to meer at Brittan s house on the following day. Poor Nappo s fate was sealed ! CHAPTER XV. A KAY OF HOPE. SEVERAL weeks had passed away since the night of the un fortunate house-burning. The true cause of the fire had been shrewdly concealed, through the management of Dolly Cur tain, who was alone acquainted with its real origin. She feared the severity of the consequences to Ellson, if she ex posed him, and so she gave such an account of the falling of the candle from his hand, as satisfied all inquiry in reference to the cause of the supposed accident. The children of Ellson had been taken to the dwelling of a poor neighbor on the night of the fire, and nearly a month had elapsed since that occurrence. The family upon whom little Carrie and Toney had been thus unexpectedly thrown, had no possible means of providing for them, however ; and the burden was found so onerous, that preparations had been made to place the unfortunate little ones in the care of the city authorities. Dolly had been a constant attendant upon them from the night of their separation from Mrs. Ellson (who had never since shown signs of any consciousness of her terrible situa tion), but the slender means of the poor seamstress could per- 100 THE RAG-T CKER. mit no curtailing for the support of others. With all her humble exertions, she found it a wearying task to maintain herself; and she was forced at last to consent that the children should be taken in charge by the town. " I carn t see, for my part," murmured the woman who had temporarily housed the children, but who really could ill afford the bread they devoured, " I carn t see for the life o me, why you should care about em, Miss Curt u. Ef they wus yourn, instead of her u, you could n t take on wuss about em than you now do. They ain t your n, be they?" asked the old woman, finally, as if she suspected that there might possibly exist such a relationship, sub rosa, between Dolly and the little outcasts. " The young ones ain t yours, eh ?" This question aroused the ire of Dolly Curtain, and she ex claimed : " ISTo, mum ; you know better you do !" " How should / know any thing of em, I d like to ask ?" continued the woman. " All I knows of em is that you brought em ere, an I ve sported em as long as I m able to. They must go out o this, and you must see to em." " Poor little things !" said Dolly, a moment afterward, as she took the children into her own chamber, and reflected upon their future chances in life ; " poor, deserted, parentless children ! Your lot is cast in a dreadful place, and you ve none to take you by the hand, now. / can t," continued Dolly, as the tears streamed down her cheeks, " I can t help you no longer. I would if I could, God knows I would. But," she continued, suddenly appearing to light upon a thread of hope, " he might do something for em." Dolly was thinking of their grandfather, Anthony Brittan ! A RAY OF HOPE. 101 She did not know much about this man, or she would have halted where she was. She had heard Annie speak of her father, and she had an indistinct idea that Ellson had wronged him, at some time or other, for which offense the Englishman had become estranged from his daughter. In her goodness of heart and her honesty of purpose, she resolved, forthwith, to go to Brittan, and to appeal to his better nature. She would take the babies with her for they were but infants yet, comparatively ; and she would tell him a tale that would reach his heart, if he had one. Pleasing herself mentally with this new, and, to her mind, encouraging scheme, she went about its execution directly. Time, to the indigent and hard-toiling Dolly Curtain, was emphatically money. She worked early and late to obtain the scanty pittance she was able to earn from day to day, and she was obliged to sacrifice half a day at least to attend to this matter. " Yet," she argued, " it s my duty, I s pose. If they were my own, I couldn t love em better than I now do for they re good children, considerin hoAV they ve been brought up. And surely the man whose blood flows indirectly in their veins won t turn a deaf ear to my story. I ll tell him how his poor daughter has suffered, how good little Toney always is, how he s named after him (that s what his mother says)," though Dolly could n t exactly make out how " Toney" bore any affinity to Anthony. " I 11 show him how sweetly little Carrie can sing to him, and he 11 take em under his own care, and make a gentleman of Toney and a lady of dear little Carrie. That s what Mr. Brittan 11 do, I m sure he will." And as the poor woman thus flattered herself, she began to 102 THE RAO -PICKER. wash and cleanse the little ones up, preparatory to an after noon call upon their aristocratic and flinty-hearted grand parent, who Avas now busily engaged in preparations for his final departure from New-England, and was little anticipating a visit from the children of her whom he had cursed, and pur sued with such merciless vengeance. The wearing apparel of Toney and Carrie, as may be sup posed, was none of the choicest. Up to the period when the now maniac mother had been finally stricken down by disease, Annie Ellson had contrived, by harsh economy, and divers mendings and patchings, to keep the bodies of her little ones decently covered from the cold. With her spare earnings, oc casionally, she even obtained a cheap bit of calico or flannel, which she made up into garments for them never for herself! And then she cut over the skirts of her old dresses, from time to time, and worked the material up into frocks or sacks for her darling girl or boy, so that they generally appeared de cently respectable, and always comfortable. But the fire had destroyed all that belonged to her, or to them, and they were thrust forth into the cold with only the flimsy night-garments that chanced at the moment to cover their nakedness. But Dolly had gathered together a few straggling articles of clothing from among her poor acquaintances, and the chil dren Avere plainly attired, each in a someAvhat decent suit. To be sure, the jacket that Toney wore Avas the cast-off of a boy considerably larger than himself, and the frock that adorned the petite form of sweet little Carrie was much too lengthy for the child s figure. But the children AA T ere very cleanly and nice in their persons, A RAT OF HOPE. 10*3 and Dolly had taken up a seam in tlio big jacket, and had put a tuck in the long dress. Finally, the trio were in readi ness to depart on their visit to " graiidpa Brittan^ Dolly Curtain was generally in pretty good spirits with herself and all the world beside, but she thought she never felt better than she did on this occasion ! Why she had not thought of this very plan before, seemed a mystery to her. She had heard Mrs. Ellson mention her father s name, but there had never yet arisen the same neces sity for calling upon him, she thought, that now seemed to present itself, Besides this, Annie had always declined, in Dolly s presence, to appeal to him. Now the case was al tered. The mother had been removed from the custody of 3ier children ; the infants were without a guardian or protect or ; they were of Brittan s own flesh and blood ; she knew nothing of the grandfather s true character; the little ones must go to the alms-house unless he interfered ; and she made bold to call upon him, and demand his interference in this emergency. " Now you re looking very nice," said Dolly, proudly, as -she arranged the handsome locks of the children, for the third or fourth time since they had been washed, " and you re goin to see gran pa, both of you. Oh, but he 11 be delighted to see you, looking so clean and so pretty, I m sure he will." " Who s gran pa ?" queried Toney. " W y, gran pa Brittan, to be sure ; your own gran pa, that lives in the great house on the hill, you know." " No /don t know," said Toney ; " I never see him." " Me, too," chimed in Carrie ; " / never see um." "" Well, no matter. He is your gran pa, notwithstanding," 104 THE RAO-PICKER. continued Dolly, kindly. " We re going over to see him, and he 11 be very glad to see us, and we 11 have such a nice walk, and see all the pretty things as we go. And Carrie shall sing to him, too, and he 11 give her something nice, I Ve no doubt," continued Dolly, chattering on, encouragingly, to the children, who did not seem to care so much about this visit as she de sired they should, until she got her own best attire on (which was poor enough, to be sure !), and then she said : " Now, Toney now, Carrie we re ready." CHAPTER XVI. THE UNWELCOME VISITORS. Fazio. Dost thou know, Bianca, Our neighbor, old Bartolo ? ianca. Yes, yes. Not a friend hath he, Nor kindred nor familiar. MILMAN. WHEN all was in readiness, and Dolly had again smoothed down the hair of Toney, and re-adjusted his coarse cloth cap, and once more thrown out the rich glossy curls of sweet little Carrie from under the edges of the faded quilted hood she wore, and, for the third time, consulted the bit of broken looking-glass that was stuck upon the wall of her room with four great-headed pins, to see that her own person was " pre sentable," she said " Come, little ones" and the trio started upon their expe dition. As they descended the old stairs, Dolly continued to chat with them, and aimed to impress upon them the importance of " doing their prettiest," when they should meet with their lordly relative, saying, "he ll be so glad to see us, and may be he 11 want you both to stay with him." "/ don t want to stay with him !" said Toney, quickly, at the same time pouting his handsome lip. 5* 106 THE RAG-PICKKR. "Me, too," added Carrie, clinging to her brother s arm. "/ don t want to stay, too." " I worit stop there," insisted Toney. "An I, too," added Carrie. " You 11 be good children, won t you ?" asked Dolly. " Yes, yes I will," replied Toney. " Me, too," followed Carrie, instantly. " That s right. You remember what Mr. Goodson told you, don t you ? How he would love you, if you re good children, how God would love you, and how every body would lovo you, if you behaved well eh ?" " Yes, yes," replied the little ones, together. " Very well, then ; I am now going to take you over to see your grandpa, who is so rich, and who will, perhaps, be kind and benevolent toward you, and take care of you hereafter, if you are very good. And I want you to be careful and be orderly when you meet him, in order that he may see how prettily behaved you are ; and then he will be sure to take a liking to you both directly. Do you understand, Toney 2" " Yes, yes," was Toney s answer. "An me, too," added Carrie, as usual. But ne ither Toney nor Carrie Ellson were pleased with the prospect before them. They entertained a very indiffer ent idea of Dolly s plans, any way. As to the washing, and the " bran new clothes" they stood in, and the going out into the busy streets for a time, where all was sunshine and happy faces ; where they could see the pretty toys in the shop- win dows, the horses, and wagons, and sledges for boys, and the dolls, and little cradles, and nice books for girls, which they could look at, though they could not possess all this was THE UNWELCOME VISITORS. 107 well enough. And they did uot object to call upon their " gran pa," of whom they had indeed heard very little, and for whom (in their childishness) they cared much less ; but, as to staying there, they had an opinion of their own. They de sired that Dolly should bring them home again, after their visit ; they had no idea of tarrying there. Home! How little could they realize that they were houseless, homeless, friendless ! They sallied forth, at length, from the miserable quarters where they had been lodged and scantily fed during the few past weeks, and Dolly led the way, as proud as a queen, while she held the tiny hand of Carrie Ellson in her own, and chattered with her as she moved along. The children were very fair indeed, and the bright black eyes of Carrie were more than once the object of remark. At length they reached the handsome dwelling of their affluent grandfather. Dolly halted a moment, mounted the marble steps with the little ones, read the name upon the great silver plate, and said "Here we are, Toney." " Where ?" asked the boy, briskly. " At gran pa s ; don t you recollect ?" " Oh, yes," said Toiiey, lowering his voice at once. "Me, too," whispered Carrie, sidling up and taking her brother s hand. And a servant quickly appeared at the great mahogany door-way, in response to the ringing of Brittan s bell by the humble Dolly Curtain. " Is Mr. Brittan at home ?" inquired Dolly, respectfully, of the attendant. 108 THE RAG-PICKER. " Yes," said the servant. And then glancing at the woman and two children suspiciously, he added, " I don t know. I 11 see." He did not shut the door entirely, and Dolly stepped into the entry, drawing the two children after her. The servant disappeared, but turned back again directly, and said, " Card, mum ?" " Say Miss Curtain," responded Dolly, quickly. Anthony Brittan had n t dined that day. It is averred that most people (who are able to eat dinners at all) are better his- posed after dining ; and, as a rule, one may look for more cordial treatment from a "crusty" man, who is encountered upon a full stomach, than at a period when he may have been fasting. If this change ever exhibited itself in old Brittan s case, those who surrounded him never chanced to know it. And, when the servant entered the room where he was lazily reclining, and said, "A lady, sir," the crabbed Englishman j .nswered " What of her 2" " A lady, at the door, sir." " Name ?" queried Brittan. " Miss Curtain, sir." " Curtain Curtain ? Never heard it. Show her up. What does she want ?" Dolly entered the drawing-room at the servant s return, mid Anthony Brittan presented himself a moment afterward. " This is Mr. Brittan ?" said Dolly. " Your servant, mum." " I called, sir, to to confer with you in regard to an ob ject of charity, in which you are undoubtedly interested," be- THE UNWELCOME VISITORS. 109 gan Dolly, modestly. "Your knoAvn liberality, and the peculiar circumstances of this case " " I I haven t time, mum," interrupted Brittan, instantly. " No time, now, mum, to look into this. John !" he exclaimed, calling his menial. " But this case, Mr. Brittan," continued Dolly, earnestly, " is one that you can t reasonably pass over. It has been left to the last moment " " I don t know no particular cases, mum ; none whatever. John !" " Yes, sir." " Attend this woman." " My business is with you, Mr. Brittan," continued Dolly, boldly, and closely following his footsteps as the Englishman moved to leave the room. " I ve come here on an errand of mercy, in which I ve no manner o personal interest, and I will tell you what I have to say, at all hazards." Brittan halted in his tracks, for he had never before seen such an exhibition, and he was thunder-struck at the woman s temerity. More than this, he began to suspect what lay at the bottom of this visit. He looked hastily at Dolly, then at the children, and the woman thus continued : " For myself, sir, I desire nothing, and I ask no favors of you for any kin of mine. These two little ones have neither father nor mother to care for them. They are, to-day, parent- less and homeless, and the blood of Anthony Brittan runs in their veins ! God has sent me here, sir, to you, the father of Annie Ellson, to demand of you what you have denied to the suffering, repentant, cruelly-treated mother. These are her 110 THKKAG--PICKER. children, sir ! They are starving for lack of bread ! Tho mother of these little ones is your child " " Take her away !" shouted Brittan, madly. " John ! Mi chael take her off ! Put her out of the house !" And at the word, two boy-servants entered the apartment, designing to execute their master s bidding ; but they encountered the frightfully excited gaze of a tall and brawny-armed woman, who turned upon them as they came in, and cried out : " Stop ! you puny fools ! or if you dare raise a hand against me, do it, at your peril !" The children, thoroughly alarmed, clung to Dolly s dress, amid the confusion, while Toney shouted at the top of his lungs " Take me home, Dolly ! take me home ! don t leave us ! I don t want to see gran pa I don t !" and Carrie fol lowed, screaming " Me, too ! me, too ! me, too !" " I won t hear it I won t listen !" yelled Brittan, forcing his fingers into his ears. " She s dead. I haven t got any child ! Dead, I say ! Leave me leave the house ! Take your brats away ! Go to work support em. Let her starve let them starve ! I m glad of it. Glad, glad, glad ! They shan t have one penny not one. I m Anthony Brittan. I vo made my will not one cent to the race ! Out, I say, you devil s witch, and take your imps along with you. Not a copper not one !" And with this paroxysm, Anthony Brit tan fairly leaped out of the room, and disappeared entirely. Dolly fell upon her knees in the middle of Brittan s splen didly appointed apartment, and cried aloud to the God of the fatherless to protect and succor the tender and innocent chil dren beside her, Avhile she fervently prayed that the guilty and reckless parent of the wretched mother of those babes might THE UNWELCOME VISITORS. Ill live to repent in sack cloth, before the righteous Ruler and Giver of all good ! Her mission was fruitless ; and, with a heavy heart and brimming eyes, she took the extended hands of the two chil dren, and found her way, unattended, to the open street ! As they left the marble steps of the aristocratic abode of their rich relation, the figure of an old man was seen on the opposite side of the way, groping along the edge of the walk, anxiously searching for something, evidently, so earnest was his manner. He did not observe the children, so intent was he upon the business that engaged him at the moment. Carrie watched him, however, until she turned the corner of the street below, but he did not recognize her. It was old Davy, the rag-picker. CHAPTER XVII. THE ARREST. * * * All men are created EQTTAL ; they are endowed by their CREATOR with certain -unalienable rights ; among these, are life, LIBERTY, and the pursuit of happiness. DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. * * * No person held to service or labor in one State, escaping into another, shall, in consequence of any law therein, be discharged from such service or labor; but shall be delivered up, on claim of the party to whom such service or labor may belong. CONSTITUTION or TUB UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. The free born Englishman rang for his dressing-gown and slippers. The " generous Madeira" he had quaffed had ren dered him soggy, at least ; and he concluded to sit awhile over his comfortable parlor fire, and think upon his future plans, now well determined on, before the hour for retiring. " Nappo was right," said Brittan to himself : " Taskem is a gentleman. He knows what s what, does Taskem ! I d trust him, any where ic wi untold gold ; cause he s so well posted, and so ic s rewd. He s a devilish nice fel low, is Taskem ; and I m in luck ic to meet him so extron ally." Brittan hiccoughed fearfully after the utterance of this last word, which he intended for extraordinarily ! But then, it must be remembered, that he had just disposed of something over two bottles of heavy Madeira. THE ARREST. 113 " Tennessee," continued Brittan, slowly, as visions of broad plantations, fertile cotton-fields, and scores of negroes, flitted before his excited mind ; " Tennessee must be a beau-ti-ful place. No humbug in that. Taskem said so ic and he knows, cause he s bin there. Go to Tennessee Nappo there a ready buy him plenty o niggers knock em down w eu you like no law there ic beautiful, pleasant, delight ful ic ! Go to Tennessee," said Brittan, "/ will." And a moment afterward he was sleeping heavily in his arm-chair. The night passed away, and morning came ; the morning upon which Taskem had arranged to exercise his rights as a " freeman" over another " freeman," whose skin chanced to be a shade darker, but who possessed no rights that were not controlled by his legal master ! " God made man in his own image." The Magna Charta of this land declares that "ALL men are born equal." But what of that ? Nappo s mother had " owed service," and the law also declares that her progeny is " property." Ergo, as Nappo had been found, he must go back to that service from which he had fled, for he was n t " born equal." He knew nothing of the fate that was impending, and he was surprised, in Brittan s house under the roof of an English freeman. About nine o clock that morning, Brittan sent for his ser vant, who had ever been faithful and true to him from the first hour he entered his employment. He was only fourteen years old when his present master engaged him ; and as he had no incentive to expose himself, Nappo took care never to mention any thing regarding his early history after his arrival in Boston. So the Englishman had no idea that he was a fugitive. Brittan s heart had long since been steeled to any 114 THE RAG-PICKER. thing that approached " sympathy for other s woes," and he cared very little about the fate of Nappo, or any body else, for the matter of that, saving himself. " Well, Nappo," said Brittan, gayly, as the negro came into his apartment, "you ve been with me now a good many years." "Yis, sail." " How many, Nappo ?" " Over tirteen years, sah." " Thirteen years ! So long as that ?" Yis, sah." "And where did you come from when you came here, Nappo ?" continued Brittan, with an attempt at being conver sational. " From York State, sah." " That was your story, I know. But previous to that time, Nappo, where did you live ?" The poor fellow was puzzled at Brittan s manner, but dared not answer this query directly. Something seemed to whis per in the Afri can s ear for his mother was a genuine African, notwithstanding Taskem s statement to Brittan and he faltered, stammered, flinched, and said " he did n t know, sah." " At your old tricks, eh ?" said Brittan. " Very well ; you 11 be brought over to learn to tell the truth, I Ve no doubt, shortly. Do you know a Mr. Taskem, Nappo ?" "No, sah," said Nappo, instantly. And he did not know him. " You 11 have a chance to get acquainted with him then, soon," concluded Brittan, bitterly. THE ARREST. 115 At this moment the red-haired man entered the room, flanked by the United States District Marshal, and followed by two or three ruffian- visaged deputies. " That s / ?," said Taskem, at once, " That s Napoleon Duroc. I claim him as my lawful property. Yere s the bill o sale from his riginal owner, John Schaffer, of Kintucky, from whose plantation he scaped, seventeen year ago, with his mother, who robbed her mistress of some valuable jewelry at the time, an which he now has in his possession, some where, probably, for he would n t dare offer it for sale, yer see, gentlemen." Had a thunderbolt from heaven burst at poor Nappo s feet, at that instant, he could not have been more thoroughly as tounded than he was. Not the slightest hint had he had of the trap set for him. Not the remotest idea did he entertain of the danger with which he had been surrounded for the past four and twenty hours. He looked at Taskem, then at the officers, then at his en>- ployer, but he was speechless. The tears rushed to his eyes at length, and turning imploringly to Brittan, he gasped " Massa Brittau, save poor Nappo !" " That s all very well," interposed the slave-hunter. " We Ve seen this kind o repentance afore, mind you, but it s too late, you see. Ef he comes along civily, gentlemen, all s right ; ef not, you knows the law, an so do /," said Taskem. " Mr. Brittan, one word with you," he continued, turning to the inner door, and taking the English freeman familiarly by the button-hole. They were absent a few moments, when the guilty twain returned again to the drawing-room, Taskem leading the 116 THE RAG-PICKER. triumphantly, and dangling at his finger s ends a set of an tique and curiously-mounted earrings. " Look yer, Nappo," he shouted, as he came in, " did yer ever seen these things afore, eh ?" Nappo turned, and said, " Nebber fore God ! nebber in my life !" "Wotf Yer don t steal, an run off, an lie as well, do yer?" exclaimed Taskem, indignantly. " Gen lemen," he continued, addressing the officers, "I could swear to this jewelry in Guinea. I found it in the bottom of his trunk, yere, this mo ment, in this old bag." " De bag s mine," shouted Nappo, " but dem gold things I nebber seen afore, gemplemen. I did n t I nebber did I sware de facks dam if I did ! Massa knows I did n t. Don t you, Massa Brittan 2" Brittan made no reply. " We must do our duty, Mr. Brittan," suggested the Mar shal. " It s an uncomfortable performance, but the law, you know, sir, is imperative. This gentleman has acted legally, the fugitive is in our custody, and we must proceed." " Wot you gwine to do wid me ? Whar you gwine, massa ?" screamed ISTappo, in his fright and agony. " Massa Britt n ! hab n t I sarbed you honest and true ? You don t b lieb me a tief you don t b lieb dis man ? Speak up. massa ! for de Lord s sake, don t let em carry me way. Don t do dat, gemplemen I m innocent ! Fore God, I am ! Save me, Massa Britt n save me save !" shrieked the poor fellow, as the officers seized him at last, and forced him to the door, and thence toward an open carriage that stood in readiness before the Englishman s lordly portal. THE ARREST. 117 " War m I gwine to ? God ha massy on poor Nappo !" screamed the unlucky negro, as the officers rudely forced him from the door of his old employer. Then, turning for an instant toward the house, with a despairing shout he con tinued : " Massa Britt n ! don t let em don t let em ! In de Lord s name, massa, save poor Nappo dis once, an he nebber forget it long s he libs, nebber !" " In with him in with him !" muttered the marshall, hastily. " We shall have a crowd here in one minute that we can t manage. In with him !" " Massa ! don t break Nappo s heart " " I 11 break your head, ef you don t shet up," exclaimed one of the deputies, rudely. " Stop your bellowing, and in with you, now." And, as half a dozen curiously-disposed persons came up, the prisoner had been secured, and the carriage rolled away in hot haste toward the Court-house, where the slave-hunter and his friends had already arrived, and awaited the fugitive s coming. Away with him ! He s black ; he can t tell who his father was, or whether he ever had any. Very likely he did n t. He s property " goods and chattels ;" and the probabilities are that he s a thief as well as a nigger ! There will be " no trouble" to convict him as Taskem as sured Brittan. No ! Leave that to him. He could swear to the stolen property " in Guinea," (or in Boston, either !) He had bought the boy, who had fled from tyranny and oppres sion and the lash, and who must be returned to that delecta ble service again ; for, thus said the LAW ! CHAPTER XVIII. A LEGAL FARCE. In times like these, men know not one another. Holding together they together fall! In scattering there s chance of safety. * * * Do not hold me, friend ! Look to thyself. lie s lost that looks! Upon a brother s jeopardy. BUT Nappo was not to be borne away without a hearing! Oh, no ! That would be unrighteous, and illegal, too. lie was to have a chance for his life for the law and the Consti tution gave him this but what a chance ! God of mercy and goodness God of the just and unjust ! When shall this iniquity be banished from the nation ? " What s he bin a doin ?" inquired a lame wood-sawyer, as the vehicle rolled up to the Court-house door. " Stealin old Brittan s silver," replied somebody on the walk, Avho had been thus informed. " Pity he had n t got some of his gold," suggested another, " and gi n it to his starvin daughter." At this moment two or three colored people came running up to the door of Brittan s house, out of breath, and preceded by an acquaintance of Nappo, who had got sight of him as he was being borne away. A LEGAL FAKCE. 119 " War is he ?" asked the foremost of the sable trio. " Who ?" said a bystander. " Nappo Nappo. Do collud man dey had ere jes now." " Oh," said the other, slowly, " I donno." But the friends of Nappo suspected what was transpiring, and they hurried away direct to the Court-house. " A very clever fellow, that Taskem," said Brittan to him self, as he sat alone in his parlor, after the departure of Nappo and the officers. " A marvel ously clever fellow, pon my word ! Well done ! Admirably done ! But the charge of stealing the jewelry was hardly the thing, so far as Nappo s concerned, for he s as honest as the sun. However, he s a poor ignorant nigger, any how, and a runaway slave so Taskern says and he knows. Taskern s a trump !" And then the free-born Englishman chuckled within him self, right merrily, as he reflected further upon the disgraceful scene that had just been consummated beneath his own roof, in broad day-light the unrighteous arrest of a human being, who was guilty of no earthly crime whatever, except that, un luckily, he first saw the light south of the Potomac ; and, con sequently (notwithstanding the letter of the Declaration), Avas not " born EQUAL !" Away with him, then ! He knows nothing, can feel noth ing. His head is but a cocoa-nut shell, his hide is fit only for the scourge or the tan-pit, and his heart "Heart" con tinued Brittan, halting suddenly in his reverie, as he recalled the last words that had dropped from Nappo s lips, in his hear ing " heart ! Have these fellows got hearts ? The boy said, don t break Nappo s heart." 1 Ah ! I see he got that from going to meeting. I allowed him to go to meeting, as he 120 THE RAG-PICKER. termed it, and he s got the idea into him that he s got a heart! Well, Taskem 11 eradicate all that kind of stupid notion, I ve no doubt. Taskem is a very clever sort of man or I in no judge of humanity. " Let us see," continued Brittan, stretching his feet out be fore the grateful fire, and turning over in his mind the pros pects of his late servant ; " let us see. Nappo s young yet, hale and hearty, good size, not bad looking, honest and ingenious. Taskern bought him at a venture, he says, and paid Schaffer two hundred dollars for him, with the under standing that he should get possession of him the best way he could. He s got him he 11 prove his claim the boy 11 go into bondage, and Taskem clears a cool thousand, to a certainty, by the speculation ; for he avers that, once out of reach of his friends here, Nappe s worth twelve hundred dollars, quick. A remarkably clever fellow, that Taskem, to be sure !" continued Brittan, rising ; and then pacing the floor for half an hour, in deep thought, he turned over and over the schemes and prospects which the slave-hunter had shrewdly presented to his view, to induce him to accompany him home, and invest his capital in southern lands, and other "property." The gilded bait had proved successful ; and old Brittan firmly resolved to settle at the South. lie would thus rid himself effectually, he believed, of the importunities that had so annoyed him in his family relations. The glowing ac counts of the freedom and continuous enjoyments of a planter s life so completely captivated him, that he informed Taskem of his resolution without further delay. Taskem was not a little surprised at this sudden decision on A LEGAL FARCE. 121 the part of Brittari, but he took care to disguise his astonish ment, while he made good use of every argument within his limited knowledge of such an undertaking (by such a person), to encourage the Englishman in his newly-conceived project. lie saw that he should himself be enabled to realize something from the enterprise, without any doubt, and he was secretly rejoiced when Brittan announced to him his final deter mination. Meanwhile, poor Nappo lay in prison, awaiting the order of the Court for his final delivery into the hands of his cap- turer and new owner. There had been exhibited unmistaka ble evidences of serious excitement, in and around the Court house, during the examination of Nappo, who was at length openly charged with and convicted of being a fugitive from service. Little knots of colored men had been seen at the corners of the streets leading to the jail, while similar col lections of well dressed persons of this class congregated in the vicinity of the Court. They were quiet, however, and civil ; but they spoke in a subdued tone of voice, and no one knew what were their intentions, or the objects of their evi dently earnest zeal (for some purpose or other), at that pre cise time. However, might was BIGHT in those days ! All men were not "born equal," and Nappo Duroc chanced to be one of that unfortunate class whose pedigree was defective in the eye of a very questionable statute. 6 CHAPTER XIX. TONEY AND CAKRIE. REJOICED at their escape from the gilded drawing-room of their " gran pa," as Dolly had called old Brittan, the two children hurried away from the door with their kind friend, who was, herself, not much less gratified than they at leaving the incorrigible monster behind. As they passed down the crowded streets, the little ones soon forgot the man, and the rude scene of which they had just been the unwilling- witnesses. Carrie chirped as she ran merrily along behind her little brother, after getting out of sight of Davy, and they halted from time to time to peep in at the showily-dressed shop windows, garnished as they were with attractive toys and play things. " See the pony see the pony, Carrie !" shouted Toney, pointing to a miniature rocking-horse he had suddenly dis covered. " And the dolly, too ! see in the corner !" responded Car rie, turning the boy s attention to an object that pleased her the most. Dolly was silent and meditative. She was returning again THE GOLDSMITH S CHARITY. 143 " What did papa do ?" "Nothing," said Toney. " He beat us," said Carrie. " Not much," insisted Toney. "Ifard hard s he could," continued poor little Carrie, who had experienced her unfortunate father s rudeness more than once, and who did not forget it. But Mrs. Meeker had no wish to pry into the "family secrets" of the two little strangers, and so she changed the subject, and proposed they should retire, first repeating the Lord s prayer. This having been done, Toney informed their benefactor that Came Avould sing her hymn, if they would like to hear her ; and the little songster, in a beautiful melody, delivered herself of the following pretty sentiments, which she had learned from her mother s lips : CARRIED EVENING- HYMN. When the glittering stars peep out From the dark and silent sky, Twinkling through the azure sphere G-OD has placed them in, on high Then, with folded hands, at even, Then with grateful hearts, we 11 bow I Praying HIJI who dwells in heaven To accept our humble vow I HE will listen ! HE will bless ! For, within his word t is found Not without the FATHER S knowledge Falls the sparrow to the ground. Little children, then, at even, "Well may come and lowly bow ! For the FATHER dwells in heaven, And accepts their humble vow 1 " A charming evening song," exclaimed Mrs. Meeker, at its 144 THE RAG-PICKER. conclusion, " and right prettily sung, too. Now, a kiss, and then to bed, for it is late, and you need rest," added Mrs. Meeker, kindly. And five minutes afterward, the poor fugitives, fast locked in each other s arms, were sleeping soundly and peacefully for they were very much fatigued. Charles Meeker, as we have hinted, was an artisan a gold smith by profession. lie labored daily for his bread ; but he was a little " forehanded," for his business Avas a profitable one. He could afford to lend an ear to the wail of distress ; and he found that a good act ahvays brought with its accom plishment a sure reward. lie had struggled with poverty himself, and he knew how hard it was to bear up under ad versity. But now he was pleasantly situated in life, the labor of his hands was remunerated handsomely, and he managed to live comfortably, respectably, and to do some measure of good. His wife was a pattern of neatness and thrift a real help meet to him a woman of most excellent domestic qualities, and one " who went about doing good," likewise. The poor and destitute around her were aided to the fullest extent of her means, and the needy wayfarer who chanced within her province never went away empty. Both Meeker and his wife were zealous and worthy mem bers of the Christian Church, and their lives were passed amid the pleasing routine of religious duty to their God, their fellows, and themselves. They had but one child a bright little fellow, five years old. Charles Meeker was being carefully and faithfully edu cated by his parents, who loved him dearly, and who watched THE QOLDSMITH S CHARITY. 14.5 his constantly-improving character with high hopes for the future. The evening waned. Mr. Meeker read a portion of the Holy Scriptures, and then offered to the Throne of Grace his customary evening prayer, in which he was ardently joined by his loving and pure-hearted wife. And when the Avorthy man had thanked his Heavenly Father that he had been made the humble instrument, in his hands, of bringing aid and com fort to the two tender sufferers Avho had found shelter that night beneath his roof, he realized a calm and peaceful satis faction " That only they who feel can know." In the mean time, poor Dolly Curtain went to her weary and lonely pillow, but not to sleep ! She had left no stone un turned, within the scope of her knowledge, to find the lost children. She had traversed all the streets through which they had passed from her own humble home to Brittan s house, and back again, but she could hear nothing of them. She resorted to the office of the city-crier, but his efforts were fruitless. And at ten o clock in the evening, satisfied that somebody must have found and housed the lost ones, she threw herself upon her pallet to await the light of morning to renew her search. And while the anxious and well-meaning Dolly was thus harassing and fretting for their uncertain fate, little Toney and Carrie Ellson were snugly lodged, and were dreaming sweetly beneath their Christian benefactor s roof. 7 CHAPTEli XXII. THE RUSE AND THE ESCAPE. I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless ; That only men incredulous of despair Half-taught in anguish through the midnight air Beat upward to God s throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach ! ELIZABETH B. BBOWNIJTO. LONG before the hour fixed upon by Taskem for his final departure from Boston, the name of the slave-hunter was upon the lips of hundreds of the residents of the west end of the town, and the " Guard of Vigilance" that had been hastily organized among the colored residents was augmented, by very considerable numbers, before nightfall. While this body of men were in secret conclave, in a re tired house in Belknap street, a gathering, which, for the safer carrying out of the interests of those who were clandestinely engaged in its objects, was denominated a prayer-meeting there stood at the door of the apartment where they were assembled, a stout negro, who scanned the faces of each and every one who came and went, receiving the second pass word from all incomers, as did another sable gentleman the first sign, at the outside entrance. One after another of the " friends" entered, and each in his THE RUSE AND THE ESCAPE. 147 turn gave the countersign and pass to the sturdy ushers. A single lamp burned dimly at the side of the large, low room, but a careful observer could readily discover, as he gazed about the apartment, that if the skins of the assemblage there were darter than ordinary, there were also the flashing eye, the firm lip, and the ardent bearing of more than three scores of men, whom it would be dangerous to oppose in a hand-to-hand struggle. EIGHT was upon their side, and they did not lose sight of this fact. A gray-headed, well-dressed negro presided, and he offered an earnest prayer to Him who " created all men equal," crav ing the blessing of Almighty God upon their doings. And then a hymn succeeded, in which the throng united, as with a single voice, executing a peculiarly melodious and touching chaunt, appropriate to the words chosen, and unlike any thing else Saul-stirring and beautiful in the highest degree. Just as the song was concluded, a negro came up to the outer door, and, like the rest of the company, placing his mouth to the key-hole, he whispered "Duroc" The door in stantly opened, and he passed on. When challenged by the second usher, he replied, "Right and Justice ;" and the con ductor inquired of him, " What s o clock ? n to which he an swered, "Always ready" \He was admitted into the secret circle without hesitation, having given the pass-words accurately, and ho became a quiet and an attentive listener to what was transpiring. After a little delay, he contributed his own mite, humbly, to the de bate, and informed the company of what none of them knew up to the moment of his announcing the intelligence, to wit that Nappo would be taken away on the following evening, at 148 THE RAG-PICKER. sunset, by way of Eoxbury, thciice to Providence and New York, and so south and west, by land, to his future home in Tennessee. A hurried and excited consultation succeeded this an nouncement. Plans and counter-plans were suggested and overruled and changed, while the stranger, who was evidently a fast friend to this " committee," and who seemed well in formed of what was going on, contrived to impress upon the consideration of the "brethren" assembled the necessity of their concentrating in force along the line of the "Neck," where the carriage that contained the fugitive would inevitably pass, and from which he proposed they should rescue Nappo at the moment when his guard would probably feel secure of their prey, and would not be prepared for the contemplated attack. With some slight modifications, the suggestions of " Brother Brown" were at length agreed upon, and the company broke up, after appointing several sub-committees of observation for the night and the following day. Not the slightest suspicion was excited toward Mr. Brown, who comported himself respectfully and modestly, and who conversed accurately in the occasional broken negro tongue, (for he had dwelt among the race all his life), and he retired with the rest, after joining in the concluding hymn and prayer, with seemingly zealous devotion, and deep outward sympathy. Amid the excitement and the darkness, the villain s mask, so cunningly adjusted, and his address, so admirably carried out, were unobserved and unsuspected. Yet this self-styled Mr. Brown, who had, by some extraordinary means, obtained a knowledge of the pass-words, and who was now thoroughly THE RUSE AND THH ESCAPE. 149 advised of the plans of jSTappo s friends, Avhile, at the same time, he had arranged eveiy thing to tally with his own future purposes, was none other than the wily and heartless rogue Ralph Taskem, of Tennessee ! But his dupes knew nothing at all of this ! They conferred with him, in good faith, believing the stranger to be " true as steel" to the cause ; he, therefore, had them at singular disad vantage, and he went forth instanter to profit by it. At daybreak on the following morning, every thing had been put in readiness for Nappo s departure, and the route really chosen for his retreat was over the Mill-Dam road, and thence to Dedham, where the little party purposed to take the regular mail coach to Providence. This plan would give Taskem at least twelve hours start upon the false scheme an nounced to the committee on the previous night, and would be all-sufficient for his purpose of escape. At that hour, the " guard" would not be so likely to be on the alert, and the difference in the route was something in his favor. Accordingly, at early sunrise the carriage was summoned, and every thing having been previously prepared in anticipa tion of whatever might turn up, at the last moment, Nappo was hurried out of his cell, thrust into the vehicle at the prison door. Taskem jumped in behind him, two officers in the serv ice of the United States Government followed quickly upon his heels, and, at the word, away rolled the hack at a rapid rate toward the " Western Avenue." " Whar you gwine ?" shouted ISTappo, as he was hastily pressed forward into the carriage. " Wot you gwine to do wid me ?" " Hush yer noise !" yelled Taskem, throwing aside all fur- 150 THERAU-PICKER. ther disguise, and drawing a double-bareled pistol from his coat pocket. " Ycr my lawful properly, noiv, an I ve a mind to knock yer dam head in for givin me the trouble yer have, a ready. Wen I get yer whar yer b long, look out, d yer hear ? I 11 teach yer that it arn t such pooty work to be run- nin round after a dam mis able nigger as yer may cal Iate, in this country. Shet yer infernal ugly jaw up, now, or I 11 break a hole in yer cussed thick skull, that oughter bin smashed fer yer fifteen year ago !" This ebullition sufficed to quiet poor Nappo, effectually, for he had not forgotten his early education among this class of gentlemen, where the first ten years of his life had been passed, though he kept all this scrupulously to himself. But, as he came out of the jail, a trio of the "guard" discovered the movement. The bulk of the watchers, unfortunately, were two miles away ! The line of Washington street was well provided for, the most of the friends having been stationed in that direction, secretly ; but around the old Court-house, and along the hill over which they really intended to pass, the ruse of Taskem had provided for, and but few of Nappe s friends were in sight there. But the alarm was instantly given. The three negroes who discovered what was transpiring, instantly gave out the signal agreed upon, and the early-rising residents of Common and Beacon, and Park streets, were suddenly startled by the shout of " Duroc ! Duroc ! Duroc !" from the lungs of half a score of men, who dashed madly along the streets, apparently in hot pursuit of some person or other, who was fleeing before them. THE RUSE AND THE ESCAPE. 151 As the colored men mounted the hill fronting the State House, from the eastward, a-carriage hove in sight from above Somerset street, and the cry of " Duroc ! here he comes ! M Duroc ! Duroc !" grew more frequent, and more emphatic. A dozen stout men dashed toward the flying vehicle, seizing the horses by their heads, and at once arresting the progress of the carriage. By this time, sundry white men, too, from the neighboring houses, had turned out to see what caused the disturbance ; and as the vehicle was stopped, they ran to the spot to ascer tain what was going on. Taskem sprang out of the carriage, pistol in hand, and Nappo was instantly dragged from the ve hicle by the stout hands of a brace of his friends. The slave- hunter quickly knocked the foremost of the rescuers to the earth, and the officers followed his example by grounding two more, and at the same moment retaking Nappo from the hands of his friends. The rescuers were in earnest, however, and again they seized poor Nappo, while a severe struggle was going on be tween the remainder of the blacks and such white strao-o-lers oo as chanced to come up, all of whom were summarily ordered " in the name of the law," to aid the officers in maintaining the statute, and in securing their prisoner. The fight was animated, and some unpleasant blows passed the suffering negro-fugitive receiving his full share of hard knocks, from friends and foes, amid the excited melee. For an instant, Xappo was triumphantly dragged to the side of the street, in the arms of his crazy, but well-meaning friends. Then he as suddenly found himself going backward, heels over head, toward the open carriage. Now he was upon 152 THE RAG-PI CKEtt. the ground, with the heels of twenty enraged men trampling furiously over his body. Then he was dragged to his feet, suddenly shoved forward, headlong then grasped from be hind, and thrown from side to side now here, now there ; but in spite of his best efforts to be heard, could effect nothing whatever. Mr. Ralph Taskem was handled without gloves ! On every side he met with buffets and blows. His pistol was unloaded, as it happened. The weapon was Avrested from, his hand as he left the carriage, and from time to time, as he came for ward to assist in securing Nappo, he was severely beaten by the rude crowd. But he fought valiantly, and with a zeal worthy a better cause. Meantime, poor Nappo could be seen, torn first in one di rection and then in the opposite, bleeding, and shouting, and weeping, until at last, scarcely a single rag of clothing was left upon him, save his shoes and stockings, so violent had been the struggle of which he was personally the object. Taskem and the officers, assisted by the driver, and such persons as chose to fall in upon their side, were anxious to force Nappo back into the carriage. The fugitive s friends were equally as desirous that he should be got out of their hands, and that he should be afforded the opportunity to flee, which he would have done, right gladly, had he been able to effect this very desirable object. But they struggled in vain ; and Nappo, worn out with the rough usage he had received, and completely beaten out and exhausted with pulling, and hauling, and tramping, found him self suddenly pressed forward, and entering the carriage once more, with Taskem and the two deputies behind him, he resigned THE RUSK AND T II E ESCAPE. 153 himself to his fate, as the horses again dashed away at a mad gallop, down Beaver street, followed by a few colored men, who shouted and ran themselves out of breath, toward the Mill-Dam road, and then returned, panting with rage and ex citement, and the violence of the unnatural exercise, and all to no good purpose ! They had been cajoled by " Mr. Brown ;" their well-laid schemes had been frustrated ; the fugitive had been carried oft* before their eyes ; they had been sadly worsted in the strug gle ; and the slave-hunter had escaped without serious harm. With curses both loud and deep they retired from the fray. They had used their best exertions to save him, but Fate was against them, and they submitted, though not without bitter murmurings. Nappo was soon afterward forgotten. " Never yer mind, my boy," said Taskem to Nappo, who sat panting and bleeding upon the seat before him, unable scarcely to speak, so terribly had he been used, " Never yer mind ! I 11 fix yer flint for yer, bime-by. Ef I don t make all this up with yer w en I git yer home, my name arn t Ralph Taskem, that s all." " I did n t do nuff n, massa," said Nappo, meekly." " Shet up yer head, I say," bawled Taskem, rudely. " I 11 settle yer hash for yer, mind, one o these fine days." And Taskem was true to this promise ! 7* CHAPTER XXIII. A LOWLY DEATH-BED. And yet, for all thy merry look, Thy frisks and wiles the time is coining When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook, Thy weary spell or horn-book thumbing. Well ; let it be ! Through weal and woo Thou know st not now thy future range ; Life is a motley, shifting show, And thou a thing of hope and change ! XNA BAILLIE. MR. MEEKER and his wife were necessarily very early risers. The goldsmith, was obliged to be " down town 1 seasonably, on account of his business, and Mrs. Meeker always had the breakfast hot and in readiness, betimes, that her husband miffht not bo detained. O Though she was astir before daylight, her little guests who had slept soundly all night were wide awake ; and by the time the kitchen fire was fairly kindled, down came Toney and Carrie, to bid the kind strange lady good morning, and to see what there was to be seen in their new stopping-place. A thousand queer things greeted them. And the oft- repeated questions of the ambitious Carrie "What s this, lady ?" and " What is this for, lady ?" were answered without hesitancy or a seeming lack of good nature on the part of A LOWLY DEATH -BED. 155 Mrs. Meeker, who was delighted with the child s forwardness and her pretty manners. " Ain t that nice, bub ?" and " is n t this pooty 2" and " don t we wish we had em at our home 2" were the queries con stantly propounded to her brother ; and Toney said, " Sh ! you musn t make a noise, sis," as Carrie came to be importunate and uneasy. Every thing about the premises was bright, and clean, and substantial, and convenient. Finally the breakfast was served up, and all partook of it with hearty yusto. Mr. Meeker went away, and promised to return in the course of the morning, as soon as he should have ascertained any thing satisfactory in regard to the children s parents or dwelling-place. And, meantime, the little ones were left to rollick with Charlie, with whom they very quickly got ac quainted. Before the sun rose Dolly Curtain was abroad, too. She went to the crier s office again (where Mr. Meeker had pre ceded her, as it chanced), and before eleven o clock she found the fugitives at the goldsmith s residence. Carrie was peeping out at the front window of the house, wondering where all the people came from, and where they went to; and suddenly she clapped her little hands, and shouted : " There she is ! there she is !" "Who, my dear?" asked Mrs. Meeker, approaching the window. " Dolly, Dolly, Dolly ! there she is." And so it happened. Dolly had learned the address of the goldsmith, and she soon found the street, and was searching for the name, upon 156 THE RAG-PICKER. the doors, when Carrie discovered her. The meeting was a happy and yet a mournful one ! For, though she had found the stragglers, the poor woman was in the predicament of the unlucky wight who drew the elephant in the lottery. What could she now do with them ? Dolly waited till after the dinner-hour. When Mr. Meeker returned at that time, she frankly explained to him the precise condition of matters, and asked his advice. It was out of her power to afford the little ones further aid. The mother was a lunatic. The father was worse, and had not been seen or heard of for a month. When they left the goldsmith s house, the town must provide for them. It was clear to Mr. Meeker that he could not afford to as sume the protection of the two children permanently, hut he was willing to do all that he thought he ought to do. And, after due consultation, it was arranged that Toney should re main with him for the present, and that Dolly should take charge of Came, who was the youngest, and whom she did iiot hesitate to think she could manage, and provide for at least until some better opportunity should turn up for her advantage. And without creating any scene with Toney, Dolly Curtain quietly drew Carrie aside, after dinner, and departed, with many thanks to the kind people who sheltered them over night, taking Carrie with her, once more, to her lonely and cheerless abode. A few weeks passed away, and Toney had been sent to school again by his benefactor. Carrie fretted and cried for mamma and for brother, for a while ; but the warm sunshine soon came again, and the bees were abroad, and then the A LOWLY DEATH-BED. 157 grass peeped up in the warm nooks and crevices around the edges of the houses and the sidewalks, and she could sit upon the old door-steps and watch the passers-by, while poor Dolly plied her needle above-stairs, and earned the means to take care of herself and her little protegee. And, finally, Old Davy came again. And she ran to him, and sprang blithely into the old man s arms, as if he were " all the world" to her ! And Davy embraced his " cherub," and sat down by her, and told her fresh tales of what he had seen since they met, and talked of all the pretty things they had ever spoken of before, and they were very, very happy. One day, late in the spring, Toney suddenly disappeared from the residence of his benefactor, and did not return. Search was duly made, but without success he could not be found. And though the distress caused to the hearts of the goldsmith and his wife was serious for they had become deeply attached to him they could learn nothing whatever in regard to him, and they had no means of determining whether he was dead or alive. The boy was studiously inquired for in all directions he was duly advertised but all without avail. The runaway was not forthcoming again, nor did Dolly ever see or hear from him, in any way, from the hour she left him in Mr. Meeker s charge. As the blossoms and the buds burst from the trees, and the warm south winds came back over the green fields again, lit tle Carrie was more frequently in the streets, and saw more of her ancient friend, Davy. Fortune seemed to smile on the good old man again, as the spring-time passed by. 158 THERAG-PTCKER. Then, every day, he would find his darling little girl, who flew to meet him at every visit, with as much earnestness as ever maiden did to greet her lover ! They would wander off to the bright green lawn that graced some narrow lot, or quiet church-yard, and linger for hours in happy intercourse the old man relating tales of by-gone days, and Carrie singing to him and prattling with him, until hunger drove her back to her protectress again. Suddenly poor Dolly Curtain look sick "with a fever, and Carrie was taken away from her. A week passed away, and Mr. Goodson stood beside her bed, administering to the unfor tunate but kindly woman the last consolations of religion, during a moment of fitful consciousness, the first that had been permitted her for four days. Dolly was dying ! " Is there any one here ?" she asked, in a low voice, looking up with a calm, but death-like expression. Her poor neighbor stood by, and said : " Here is Mr. Goodson, Dolly." " Is Carrie Came here ?" The little one had been absent all day long, but her attend ant assured her that " she will soon return." * " Take care of Carrie, won t you, Sarah ?" she said, faintly. " I m very bad bad, here, Mr. Goodson !" and she placed her bony hand upon her heart, as she gasped for breath. " God is great," murmured the missionary. " His loving- kindness endureth forever ! Look unto Him in thy hour of trouble, for he will not forsake thec." And kneeling beside the failing woman, he breathed an earnest prayer that her de parting soul might find its rest with the angels. A LOWLY DEATH -BED. 159 Carrie Ellson returned at sunset, and was taken by the poor woman into Dolly s room, where her late friend lay calm and cold in death ! " W y don t she speak to me ?" asked the little innocent. "She carn t," said the woman. " Wen she Avakes up, she will." " She Avon t AA 7 ake up no more." " Never ?" asked Carrie. "Never /" responded Sarah, solemnly. The child leaned over and kissed the marble-like forehead of her protectress, and saying "Poor Dolly!" burst into tears. CHAPTER XXIV. THE PAUPER S GRAVE. Bury her there no matter where I None by her death are bereft ; Stopping to pray ? Shovel away ! & We still haye enough of em left. EASTMAK. DOLLY CURTAIN was buried in the ancient grounds at Copp s Hill. The woman who laid out her remains, and who had the care of her during her few days final illness, appointed herself administratrix of Dolly s affairs, as soon as the breath left the poor creature s body. " She said Give my things to the poor " remarked Sa rah to herself, as she closed Dolly s eyes. The sentence was unfinished upon Dolly s lips, however, iox she intended to have said " Give my things to the poor little girl Carrie? But Death cut short the remark, in the midst of it, and Sa rah profited by that same. " For," she argued, " to carry out Dolly s desire, the poor must have her effects. I 11 see to it. But if I find any buddy poorer n / am, w y then " " Bless me !" she ejaculated, " here s a nice bumberzeen gownd, I declare, good s new, and lots o flannels, too." And as she tumbled over dead Dolly s old chest of draw- THE PAUPER S GRAVE. 161 ers, she discovered a great many common but good articles of clothing, that pleased her much. " She was allers poor as Job s cat, but she s left good clo es behind her, I in sure," continued Sarah. " But she don t want em now, surely, an I do. I hope she s better off. P raps she s in a warmer place n this. Who knows 2" add ed the ignorant woman, at last. And with this remark, she disposed of every thing she could lay hands on, before the articles could be seen by any one else. " She was very destitute, I suppose," remarked Mr. Good- son, when he came to officiate at the funeral. " Oh, dre dful !" said the woman ; " had n t nothin but the clo es she died in, and a few old duds, round here." And Sarah opened the drawers of the old bureau to con vince the man of her assertion. They were empty ! " What has become of the little girl, Carrie, whom she took under her care ?" " I do no," said Sarah. " She s gone away with an old beggar she calls Davy. I hope he 11 keep her. / can t, any how." On the followingaflfternoon, the rag-picker was wandering among the grave-stones in the ancient burial-yard, and Car rie was trotting slowly at his side, beneath the warm sunshine. The gentle south wind was blowing across the Hill, and Davy was more contemplative and somber than was his wont. The place, the circumstances that surrounded him at the mo ment, Dolly s death which he had recently heard of and his solicitude for his darling Carrie, together, operated to ren der him thoughtful and melancholy. 162 THE RAG-PICKER. A newly-dug- grave arrested his attention. " Who is this for ?" humbly asked Davy. The professional man turned round, and noticing the homely garb of his interrogator, made no reply. Davy supposed he did not hear, and so he said again : "Who s it/or T " For some body at s dead, I s poze," replied the digger, crustily, as he hove up the gravel. " Who is dead ?" said Davy. " The one in the coff n, likely," responded the man, and nodding his head in the direction of the gate, on his left. The eye of the rag-picker turned that way to behold two men in the act of bringing up what he found to be the corpse in tended for the grave near him. It was a plain pine box, with a dull leaden plate upon the top, upon which was gouged the words " DOLLY CURTAIN, Died June 7, 18 . -Aye, 40 years" " It arn t long enough by a fut," said one of the Irishmen, who had been employed by the city to dump the body in the hole. " Did n t he say it was a woman ? n queried the grave-dig ger, angrily. " And havn t I made it five feet two, strong ? Dam em! "Who s agoin to dig a six foot hole for four- and-six? /ain t." " Cut the end uv it away, man fernent ye," suggested the other Hibernian, " an don t be botherin us wid yer growl n. It s ha past three, sure, an we have three more o thim same to dump afore aivnin ." The grave-digger seized his spade, knocked away a few inches more of earth, and growled out : THE PAUPER S GRAVE. 163. " Now try her." As the two men seized the coffin once more, to hurry it into the hole, the old man approached, holding Carrie by the hand, and said : " Stop, men ! One word for the departed !" His solemn but commanding manner, his venerable face and form notwithstanding his rude attire as he now stood uncovered at the edge of the grave, with his long gray hair streaming in the wind, arrested the movements of the hard- O i ened grave-digger, even, who said : " What now " The poor, honest-hearted old rag-picker gazed sadly at the rude coffin, and meekly offered up to Heaven a parting sup plication for the spirit of the dead. CHAPTER XXV. THE HOMELESS BIRD. Yes for a spirit, pure as hers, Is always pure, e en while it errs, As sunshine, broken in the rill, Though turned astray, is sunshine still! MOOKE. RETURNING slowly from the graveyard, the rag-picker and his young friend had scarcely crossed a couple of streets when they were startled by the appearance of a wild, fierce-looking man. He was approaching them with as much rapidity as his inebriate state would allow, and was evidently intent on secur ing Carrie. As soon as she fairly made him out, she sprang away up the walk as fast as her little feet could carry her, dodging the street passengers as she went, but hurrying on like a startled fawn, while her pursuer followed, muttering as he staggered up the street, " Stop ! stop, you elf, you young witch, stop ! See f I don t fix you, w en I get at you, now. See f I don t." But Carrie heeded not his threatening words. Away she flew, and turned the first corner quickly, then the next, and the next, as fast as possible, fretting and gasping for breath, until she suddenly saw the figure of old Davy, who had with great difficulty overtaken her. Bushing wildly up to him, she clung to his knees, and shrieked THE HOMELESS BIRD. 165 " He s comiii lie s comin ! Quick, Davy, Davy don t let him have poor Carrie !" " Who is it, love ? Who?" " In here in here, quick !" whispered the child, catching the skirt of old Davy s coat, and dragging him down into a dark archway, nearly. "Here quick! He can t see us here," she said, as the tumbled into the doorway. " $//" And a moment or two afterward, the man passed by, still chattering as he went, " F I don t fix you, my name ain t Henry Ellson. See f I don t, young miss !" It was Carrie s father ! He had missed her for several days previously, during which time he had been fearfully intoxi cated, and was now only partially recovered from his previous week s indulgence. He saw at the first glance that Came in tended to shun him, and, in his anger and vengeance, he would have beaten her ruthlessly, could he have put his crazy gripe upon her delicate form. But he staggered by, murmuring and cursing the little runaway as he went, and threatening her with his vengeance when he should overtake her. Davy watched the reeling form of the miserable man, un til he got far out of reach of them, and turning to Carrie, he said " Come, deary ! He s gone. He shan t harm you. Do you know who it is ?" " Yes, yes," whispered Carrie, "/ know. He w ips me, he does, and and plagues mamma." "Who is it, Carrie?" " Hush ! Is ho gone ?" she continued, creeping stealthily to the doorway, and peeping cautiously out, " is he gone ?" 166 THE BAG-PICKER. " Yes, he won t find you." " It s papa papa" whispered Carrie in the old man s ear ; " my papa." " Come !" said the old man, " let us go from here ; he may return this way." And Carrie quickly took the extended hand of Davy, and trotted away by his side, soon forgetting, in his society, her late desperate fright. " We won t stay about here any longer, Carrie, where they^ abuse, and threaten, and fright you. We 11 go off, away among the hills and green fields, and where they can not follow and distress us. Won t we, deary ?" " Yes, yes that will be so nice," responded Carrie, grate fully, " so nice ! Come, let us go now, Davy !" And while the aged rag-picker smiled upon the innocent but indigent little creature beside him, who entertained no thought for the future, who was never wearied in following his footsteps, and who sang and chirped as she went, reckless of wet, and cold, and suffering, he blessed her, blessed her with all his soul, and solemnly pledged himself to protect, and guard, and guide her God willing while he was spared to carry out his g-ood intentions. CHAPTER XXVI. ( THE LUNATIC MOTHER. Her happiness seemed fled for aye ! And all was dark desponding Save in the opening gates of day, And the dear home beyond them. ETTBIOK SirepnEED. THANKS to the judicious and tender treatment extended to Annie Brittan, after her arrival at the Insane Asylum, she began slowly to exhibit improvement. Over four months passed by from the hour when she was placed in confinement, and her bodily sickness had yielded to the experiments to which she was subjected. But her men tal powers were shocked, past all present relief; and in the semi-annual report of the officers of the institution where she Avas confined, appeared the following item : " Annie Ellson ; married woman ; distorted brain ; symp toms threatening; restoration doubtful? She was alone, m a well-ventilated but contracted room, and though her madness was intense, yet she was a calm and manageable patient, save when a glimmer of " the good old days" seemed to possess her. Then she would mourn, and cry out, and approach the 168 THE KAG-PICKER. bars that were placed across the door of her room, and thrust forth her hands, and struggle to escape, as she murmured : " / did it ! He is innocent. The baby died died and lie was far away. Pray let him come again. Don t hurt him ! Father ! don t don t hurt him. He loves us loves us dearly. And Carrie will come, too. Little Carrie little, darling, chirping, Carrie. Sh ! he s sleeping, now ! And he 11 come back and we 11 be happy happy happy, always happy. Won t we, Toney, dear ?" And then a relapse would follow, and Annie would sink down against the bars again, and weep, and pray for Henry her lost and loved husband for hours together. But she would not converse of him. The government of the association were always attentive and kind to her, but her mind had been fearfully shattered, and she remained in that lonely mad-house, a close prisoner, for years afterward ! The rag-picker seemed to have aroused himself from a long and dreary sleep ! He took Carrie away, and Sarah never saw her afterward, at least to recognize her. But this was a fortunate circumstance, as it proved, for the selfish woman had determined not to receive the little fugitive again, into her family, at any rate. Davy procured lodgings for himself and the child that night, and on the following day he left his old haunts for ever, taking Carrie with him. The old man saw that the child had no home, no relatives, no friends on earth, save himself. And he resolved in his heart, that if his life were prolonged, he would thenceforth protect and provide for the wanderer. He had scraped together a few dollars, and he procured THE LUX A TIC MOTHER. 169 her a decently respectable suit of garments poor, but com fortable and started upon a journey he knew not whither, then ! but resolved upon finding a home for his protege, whom he loved with singularly earnest devotion. Carrie was as happy as a lark when he told her how she should remain with him, and be his daughter and comforter. " An not go home no more ?" asked Carrie. " Not there" said Davy ; " but I will find a home for you. And you shall see the green fields, and hear the birds sing, and be happy, always always with Davy." Carrie s heart leaped wildly in her little bosom at this prospect, for she loved Davy more and more every day. Simple, innocent, confiding, loving Carrie Ellson ! Verily, thou wert easily contented ! Her days of weeping had early passed away. Hope and Faith led her gently on. The light-hearted fawn, as it leaped and gamboled in the cool forest shade, was not freer from feeling of care. The birdling, as it chirped in its native nest, thought not less of the morrow than she ! There was nothing now in her prospect that was dreary or forbidding, and her little feet seemed never wearied with fol lowing upon the footsteps of the good old man she loved. She trotted on, and sang as merrily as the thrush in his hawthorn-bush home. And Davy smiled on her, and blessed her and petted her, as they went. "Dear child ! Sweet happy girl! If thou appear Heedless untouched with awe or serious thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine ; Thou liest in Abraham s bosom, all the year And worshipest at the Temple s inner shrine GOD being with thee, when we know it not 1" 8 170 THEKAG-PICKEK. While the writer is now tracing these lines, the dreary winds of autumn are sighing mournfully around the dwellings of the poor, and the chilling air of raw October is forcing- its shivering breath through the crevices left unrepaired by the negligent and crafty landlord, who never neglects to call for his weekly or monthly rent, before the breakfast hour on the morning it falls due ! " That hole in the ruff, sir," says poor Maggie Shean, " wicli ye Ve bin goin to stop, so long " and she hands over to Grabble the monthly stipend she has saved, in good hard sil ver, from her toil. " It s verra bad, sir, so it is, for the chil- ders. Won t ye plaze come in, and be lookiu at it ? The rain pours in on the bed." " Some other time not now, Maggie. Let s see, is this right ?" responds the landlord. " One cent short ; never mind recollect it next month." And he does not forget it ! When it rains and snows, he can not fix the breach in the old roof. When the weather is pleasant, they do not want it done, he argues. And so the children may shake with the cold, and the storms may drive in upon the bed Tie does not feel it ! Have these people got beds, too ? Some of them have ! Oh ! ye, whom Heaven has blessed with competency, and who know nothing of the gripe of Want or the stings of Pov erty ye, upon whom the sun of Fortune constantly smiles who have enough ! spare from the store that God has vouch safed to you, and give to the destitute and needy; remembering, that he who thus giveth to the poor, lendeth to the LORD ! CHAPTER XXVII. ANTHONY BRITTAN S WARD. That s my sweet Julie. ! "Why, upon this face, Blushes such daybreak, one might swear the Morning "Were come to visit Tithon. * * * Thy father loved me well ; And thou shalt have a dowry, to buy thy mate. RICIIELIEU. THE father of Annie Ellson sat in his easy-chair, perusing 1 a letter he had recently received from England. The seal upon the envelop was black, and the paper upon which the epistle was written was also edged " in mourning." Yet the intelli gence it communicated was not altogether unwelcome to the obdurate parent, though it told him of the death of a distant relative, whom he had once valued. The point most interesting to him, however, was the an nouncement it contained, to the effect that his deceased friend had left behind him a motherless daughter, whom the dying father had consigned to Brittan s future charge, and who would soon arrive (in charge of an acquaintance) in America, bringing with her a letter of credit from the Rothschild s, upon a substantial banking-house in New York, for the amount of the fortune her parent left her at his decease about four thousand pounds sterling. Julie Manning, then, the little daughter of Brittan s old 172 T H E 11 A G - P I C K E R . friend, with twenty thousand dollars in clean hard cash, would shortly reach Boston, and Brittan had been duly appointed guardian of herself and her property. The news pleased him, vastly ! To be sure Manning was dead ; but, then, people must die, sooner or later, argued the Englishman, and they could n t die but once ! Anthony Brittan rarely thought of the other death the long and terrible death that " waits upon the unrepentant sin ner s exit" from the present life ! Twenty thousand dollars is not a very large amount of money in the consideration of some persons. Julie Manning was but nine or ten years old, however, and this sum would shortly be placed in Brittan s hands ; the income of which was directed to be applied to the education and maintenance of the child, until she should marry under his advice or at tain her majority. He looked upon this money as an em phatic "god-send." Brittan was about ready to leave New England. His real estate had been turned into cash, his stocks had been duly disposed of, and he only awaited the receipt of final letters from Taskem with whom he had been in constant corre spondence for several months to quit a locality Avhich, to his notions, had smacked too strongly of the reality of " the home of the free" Little Julie arrived, at length. She was a delicate but winsome creature, and Brittan was greatly delighted with her, at first sight. (At least, so he assured her, and she believed what he said.) The twenty thousand dollar draft was duly honored ; and, when Brittan counted up his ready means, he found that, in- ANTHONY BRITTAN S WARD. 173 eluding Julie s patrimony, he had over fifty thousand dollars at his present disposal, with which he was finally in readiness to start for the South. There was another consideration in his new family arrange ment that gratified him in prospective. Brittan declared that he was childless, and he really longed for some object upon which he could bestow his affections. Anthony Brittan s affections ! Yet, what of feeling, or fancy, or preference that he did possess in his heart though the evidence of the existence of every better sentiment in man s nature had long since seemed to have been eradicated he now saw that he could lavish upon Julie Manning ; whom he received with a rare display of cordial gratulation, and to whom he volunteered the most fulsome promises. Julie was a child artless, confiding, innocent in her own heart, and zealous in her devoted obedience to the dying in junctions of her dearly loved father. He had informed her in detail of his plans, before he was called away ; and, relying upon Brittan s continued friendship, felt safe in commending the little one to his care, while he enjoined it upon Julie to spare no exertions to render herself welcome to her guardian, and to prove herself a faithful and dutiful ward. She promised her dying parent all he desired, and did not fail, in the future, to redeem that pledge to its fullest extent. Julie knew nothing of locations in the country to which she Tiad been thus consigned by her father, but she entertained a vague idea that the new home she had come to lay some where in the " land of freedom." 1*74 THE RAO-PICKER. On this delicate point Brittan said nothing, however, in her hearing. When he was ready to leave he left, and took Julie with him. The gentle stranger enjoyed the excitement and variety of the journey. The cities she passed through were fair and busy ; the rivers over which she was borne were magnificent in her childish eyes ; the people whom she met were frank and cordial and civil ; and all was spring and sunshine to her delighted vision. Brittan was attentive, indulgent, fatherly in his treatment toward her. She visited all the places of public amusement, and heard " Hail Columbia," and the " Flag of the Free," sung by thousands of happy intelligent liberty-loving men and women. Finally they reached Kentucky, where Brittan had arranged to meet Taskem in person, to conclude certain business ar rangements he had in view ; and there she ascertained that these hymns were not so well known among the people ! Julie Manning was less than ten years old. The future ought to have been bright for her, for she had been carefully nurtured, hitherto, and she was a being loving, and worthy to be loved and rendered happy. But Julie had much to learn, yet. In the now seeming clear horizon of her earthly hopes there was a cloud beyond, but she could not, did not see it ! She resigned herself confidingly and implicitly to the guardian of her father s choice, and submitted dutifully to his guidance and direction. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PEACEFUL MESSENGER. Speak gently to the erring I To know not of the power With which the dark temptation came, Iii some unguarded hour. ANONYMOUS. MR. MEEKER, the kindly-disposed goldsmith, had been on the qui vim constantly, since Toney s truancy, in the hope that he should hear of his whereabouts. But the boy kept out of sight mysteriously, and his friend could learn nothing of him. At length one day he chanced to meet with a person who had heard of Ellson s family, and who directed Win to Sarah for further information. He found the former neighbor of Dolly Curtain, who remembered such matters connected with the unfortunate family as served to answer Mr. Meeker s present purpose, though this woman knew nothing about Toney s affair with him. " And you tell me that Dolly s dead, ma am ?" said Mr. Meeker, with deep feeling. "Yes, sir dead an gone more s the pity for the little gal. She was a nice little darlin , I m sure ; an I d a kep her ef I could I" 17G THE KAG-PICKEK. " She is absent, also ?" " Gone off with a mis able old beggarman, that nobody know d much of, but who came round through the street every day, here, and teased her, and finally coaxed her off. We d a sent the perleece constable arter him, ef we d a know d where to sent him. But AVO did n t, an so they got away entirely, and hain t bin seen sence." " That is very unfortunate for the child." " T is ncleed. That s what my man says. He did n t want no good o the gal, that s plain. What ud such a horrible creetur as him want with her, I d like to know. No, no you may be sure it s no good." " And the mother ?" queried Mr. Meeker. " Oh, she s in the sylum. Ravin mad crazy, they say. She wa n t no better than other folk, but she carried her head pooty high, till she broke down altogether ; and then they packed her off to the sylum the best place for sich kind of folk, I m thinkin ." "And the/ai/ier," continued Mr. Meeker, "what of him?" "Who Ellson?" " Yes," said the goldsmith. " Well ; ef I d a hed that man," said Sarah, spunkily, "I d a scalt every inch o skin off uv him, but I d a made him larn better fashions." " What became of him ?" " What come of him ! The Lord knows, / don t. He wa n t fit for nobuddy to care about, anyhow. He got so bad at last, at he did n t come home at all. An I dou no what come of him. I s poze he s in the jail, or the poor us . He d ought to be, surtin." THE PEACEFUL MESSENGER. 177 " He was an unfortunate man, I hear." " \Jn-forfnate /" exclaimed Sarah, warming up at the tame- ness of Mr. Meeker ; un-fort nate ? Why, he was the dred- fullest drunkard you ever see. He d drink w en he did n t want it, nor need it, no more n that are cat there." " Surely he did n t need to drink ardent spirits, at all," ven tured Mr. Meeker. " Well, I don t say that, sir. Some folks needs a leetle, I think, occasionally." " For what purpose, pray ?" inquired the goldsmith. " Well, it s a good thing w en you feel bad, sometimes, and nothin else 11 go to the right spot. But to be etarnally swill- in it, as he did " "I never knew where its use, at all, did any good in my life," replied Mr. Meeker, firmly. " I am a total abstinence man, at all times and under all circumstances, and I know I m better off for it, decidedly. " But, once in awhile," said Sarah. " Never /" exclaimed the goldsmith, energetically. " But you re a good Christian, arn t you ?" " I humbly trust that my life is not reproachful, ma am." " Very good. Don t St. Peter himself say, in the Eomaus, that you can take a little liquor for the stomack s-ache ?" asked the woman, triumphantly. " But that s neither here nor there, sir. They tried every thing with that man, an he would drink, an abuse his wife an children ; an ef I d a had him, I d a cured him uv it, or my name arn t Sally Barns, that s all !" " Poor man," said Mr. Meeker, tenderly ; " I pity him, and I pray God he may be restored to his family yet." 8* 178 THE RAG- PICKER. " Restored !" ejaculated Sarah, while her eyes enlarged with wonder ; " restore Henry Ellson ! Well, that is a good un, to be sure. No, sir ! he s clean gone hook, line, and sinker." " Haply not, Sarah. God is merciful and all-powerful to save. Did you ever think of this ?" " Well, Mr. Meeker ef you d a seen what I ve seen with that man, you d talk otherways n that, surt n. They did every thing for him " " Who did all this ?" " W y, his fren s her fren s. I ve seen em coax, an shake, an beat him half to death ; an they put him in pris n a dozen times ; an old Reed us t to come down here, an threat n him, an lam him " " I don t wonder the poor fellow was unruly, then," ex claimed Mr. Meeker, very much to Sarah s astonishment. " W y, they tried him all ways by promising an urgin , dissuashin, persuashin " " Did they ever try moral suasion ?" asked the goldsmith, interrupting her. " Moral suasion ?" inquired Sarah, " I don no what that is, exactly ; but I tell you that they tried every thing. They could n t save him, an he s gone to the dogs, I Ve no doubt, afore this time." Having thus capped the climax of her heated zeal regard ing Ellson s case, the woman stopped for breath. " I have never seen the unfortunate man," said Mr. Meeker, rising to go, " but such is nay faith in the power of persuasion and gentle treatment in such cases, that I do not doubt he could be saved, if rightly managed." " You should see Harry Ellson in one uv his tantrums. THE PEACEFUL MESSENGER. 1*79 You VI change yom % mind, I reck n ! An angel from heaven could n t manage him t any rate, his wife was n t able to, an they said she was as near bein an angel as most uv em that you see now-adays." " And you say you don t know, ma am, where Ellson is at this time ?" " No. I hain t heerd a word on him for more n six weeks. I think, though, he s over to west-end," said Sarah. " West-end ?" asked Mr. Meeker, not appreciating this re mark. " Limbo," continued Sarah. " Leverett street since the old lock-up s tore down." "I am much obliged to you for your information, Mrs. Barns," concluded Meeker, " I shall endeavor to hunt him up, and see what / can do. I would much like to hear of Carrie and Toney, too. And I will get my wife to visit Mrs. Ellson." " She s ravin crazy, sir !" " Perhaps not. We shall see," said Mr. Meeker, mildly. " I hope you 11 hev a good time with em, sir," said Sarah, in a low tone, as the goldsmith departed at length. And turning to a little cupboard,- as the outer door closed behind her visitor, she drew forth a black bottle, which she placed to her mouth, for the purpose of extracting from it a drop of that consoling draft recommended by her fiiend St. Peter, who advised the use of "a leetle, for the stomach s ache !" CHAPTER XXIX. THE W ANDERSES. Life is an infant, on affection s knee ; A youth, now, full of hope and transient glee ; In manhood s peerless noon, now bright anon, A. time-worn ruin, silvered o er with years. EDWAKD MOXON. THE boy Toney Lad been enticed away from the hospitable guardianship of the good Mr. Meeker, and after sundry haps and mishaps, he found himself over a hundred miles distant from home, in the interior of his native State. An honest farmer chanced to meet him, upon the road, as he wandered along, and the little fellow asked the stranger to allow him to ride along with him in his wagon. During the route toward his dwelling, which lay a mile down the valley, Toney told him his story, briefly, and the yeoman took a fancy to him. " Go with me," said the man, " and if you like, I 11 take you and make a man of you." Toney was ready for any thing, now, and this change, he thought, would suit him. So he said : " I don t want to go back to Boston, if you please, sir, and I 11 be a good boy if you 11 let me live with you." Thus a bargain was struck, at once, and the farmer wanted THE WANDERERS. 181 just such a lad to " bring up," for help was scarce with him, and the boy pleased his eye, exactly. Toney was growing rapidly, and the arrangement seemed a good one. No one knew Avhither he had gone, when he left Mr. Meeker s house, and so he remained out of the reach of inquiry. His new master had a good farm upon the banks of the Connecticut, well stocked with horses, cattle, sheep, swine, poultry and, indeed, every thing that went to make up a fine establishment of its class ; and Toney at once became con tented and happy in his new home, where his labor was not arduous, and where he had enough to eat and to Avear, without the asking. He was but a mere lad, yet, however, not ten years old. His employer soon ascertained that he was ingenious and well- inclined. He sent him to the district school, during the school seasons, and when at home he was occupied about the house and farm, from time to time, until he came to be a stout, well-developed boy, who got to be quite useful and handy on the place. Toney finally took to studying, assiduously, whenever he had opportunity, and he improved his mind and stored his brain with agricultural and chemic*al knowledge, which in after years proved of great advantage to him. He arose early, worked faithfully when he was at labor, looked sharp after his employer s interests, and finally came to be an excel lent judge of the merits or faults of live stock, while his in formation upon ah 1 matters pertaining to horticulture, agri culture, etc., was practical and substantial. Here Toney remained for a long period, developing in mind and body, constantly acquiring a better and more thor- 182 THE RAG-PICKER. ough knowledge of the practical uses and benefits of agricul tural employment, and never seeking for a change of position. He was contented, healthful, and happy, and his pecuniary prospects, eventually, were quite satisfactory, and quite com mensurate with his modest ambition. He sometimes thought of his mother, whom he supposed, at last, to be dead ; and he wondered, too, at times, if his un lucky father yet existed. His employer s name was Mettler, and Toney, from being at first called " Mettler s boy," an swered to the cognomen, and finally adopted it altogether, for preference. His friends were all dead, he believed, old Mr. Mettler was kind to him, and he changed his last name, and was known only as Toney Mettler, thenceforward. He spoke of Carrie often. But in time all these early recollections passed away, and he applied himself to his call ing with energy, as time passed pleasantly by with him amid his new duties. In the mean time the rag-picker was far away from the scenes of his earlier days, and Carrie as true, as confiding, as gentle as ever still followed upon the aged wanderer s foot steps. This twain had seen rough usage and harsh treatment for many a weary month after they left Boston. But Davy had been faithful to his self-imposed task, and his darling charge had been the constant and unchanging companion of his pov erty, his joys, and his sorrows. Sickness had laid its heavy hand upon old Davy since his departure, and once he had very closely approached the door of Death. But Carrie was continuously at his side. She cooled his fevered brow, and nursed him, and watched with THE WANDERERS. 183 him ; and finally, as he grew better, she read to him and sung for him, so softly and so sweetly, that he soon recovered, and they went on their way rejoicing. Carrie studied, and old Davy had studied, too. He rubbed up the mechanical knowledge he had acquired in his early school-days, but which had lain dormant in his brain for many, many years. And he turned his attention to art and mechanism, and mathematical calculations, and the appliances of machinery, and at length, even in the autumn of his life, he became conversant with the details of a most useful prac tical invention. And all for what ? The child had become the idol of his existence. She was the only true friend he had ever known. Every pulse of his existence beat for her. And for her weal, in the present and the future, he relinquished his long-followed occupation, and studied and labored, when his pretty Cariie slept, to support and educate and provide for the continuous happiness of the delicate vine that had so curiously become entwined about his aged heart. Old Brittan halted at Grenville, in the State of Kentucky, in the vicinity of which he purchased a somewhat extensive plantation, and by the aid of his friend Taskem, who came up from Memphis to meet him, he was enabled to rearrange the estate, and to make such additions to the complement of household and field-hands as he desired for his present pur poses. Having managed matters pretty much to his liking, for a commencement, he sat himself down to the enjoyments of his entirely new sphere of life, about the details of which he absolutely knew nothing whatever. His nature fitted him admirably for a task-master, how- .184 THE RAG-PICKER. ever, had he been qualified by experience for that delectable occupation. But, for the duties of a " proprietor," he had no possible qualifications, and he soon ascertained this fact. He was not only self-willed, but strong-headed and wrong- headed. His money had been invested (through Taskem s agency) in slaves and slave-property, and he set a bold face against the annoyances and the difficulties of his new posi tion, and braved the consequences of fool-hardiness, and a fatal pecuniary mistake. Thus a few years passed away, without serious change in the prospects of any of the actors in our drama each pur suing the course that Fate seemed to have marked out for them quietly, but surely carving for themselves, and those connected with them, the fortune that awaited them. Mrs. Ellson pined in the lonely apartment of the Asylum which she had occupied for so long a period. She had had many lucid intervals during the last two years, and, more latterly, the physicians had been greatly encouraged by the better manifestations of her case. The range of the house was at last extended to her, and she was clearly improving in mind and body. Her husband, after three years more of destitution and misery, had suddenly disappeared altogether, and it was cur rently believed that he had committed suicide. The family had been scattered ; the friends who had tem porarily sheltered the children, at the time when the mother was removed from them, were either dead or had left the city ; the circle was broken, and none knew whither the other had gone, or whether the grave or the waters had closed upon their remains. Yet each had just begun to live ! CHAPTER XXX. ANNIE ELLSON S DREAM. The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own "With beings brighter than have been and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh; for, in itself, a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour ! LOKD BYBOX THE relaxation of discipline, adopted in the case of Annie Ellson, was attended with the happiest results. After a few weeks she was even permitted to range over the grounds of the Asylum, without being subjected to the customary sur veillance. The glad sunshine revived her, and the warbling of the songsters, and the beauty of the flowers, brought back to her recollection the happy hours of "long time ago," when she was as free and joyful as the birds and butterflies that flitted about her now, as she wandered among the clumps of trees in the Asylum gardens. At evening she was permitted the solace of such books as she fancied occasionally ; and the sacred volume was oftener than otherwise her choice, to which she had been wont to turn for consolation, often, in other days, and which now proved to her a source of never-failing comfort. Her eye fell 1 186 THE RAG-PICKER. upon the Father s soul-soothing invitation " Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." And, " I, saith the LORD, will be unto her a wall of fire round about, and will be the glory in the midst of her." And thus consulting His word and His promises, she be came subdued and calm, and resigned with a holy resignation to the Divine will, until she blessed the Lord always, " And desired of Him that her ways might be directed, and that all her paths and counsels might prosper. For the Lord giveth all good things, and he humbleth Avhom he will as he will." And then the patient murmured a prayer, and slept. And Annie dreamed again. The long-time lunatic mother fancied that she stood upon a bright green laAvn, by the side of a sheet of placid water, and beyond her she sal* the clear white streak of a narrow water fall, as it gushed out from the apex of a high mass of rocks, and shot down the craggy sides of the hill like a line of snow. On her right lay broad fields of grain and waving com, and further on she beheld a sprightly village, dotted with houses and white buildings, with here and there a church-spire taper ing up heavenward. The sun shone bright and warm on the scene before her, and the lambs were gamboling on the greensward ; the birds were chanting their sonnets in the rich grove upon her left, and the sparkling trout leaped from the fair bosom of the lake in front ; and all was calm, serene, and heavenly around her. ANNIE ELLSON S DREAM. 187 And then soft music was heard within the leafy shelter of the wood, and shortly afterward the melody increased, and the atmosphere seemed filled with angelic strains of harmony. And suddenly this died away into a softened symphony, and then a sweet familiar voice was heard above the exquisite accompaniment in a plaintive tone : Darling mother ! come and bless us ; "We have wandered many a day 1 With thy soft sweet smile refresh us, For we Ve roamed a weary way I Come ! and cheer us, Mother dear ! Since the hour when we were parted, "Winters, summers, oft have flown ; God has lent us friends, true-hearted But our mother she was gone ! Come ! and bless us, Mother dear 1 Autumn s winds have oft been blowing, Oft the lark has left the lea ; Now the Spring-tide s softly flowing, And we fondly look for thee ! Come 1 and join us, Mother dear ! It was the voice of Carrie ! her own sweet child, whom she had taught to sing from her cradle. And the fond mother sprang forward to clasp the loved one to her heart, after their long separation, but the singer was not in sight, and a soft chorus succeeded. The mother, almost frantic with joy, advanced with more cautious steps, and near the edge of the grove she encountered the figure of a rugged-faced boy a youth of seventeen bear- 188 THE RAG-PICKER. ing in his arms a shock of ripened corn, who greeted her with gushing joy, as he exclaimed, " Mother ! dear mother, behold your son ! " She started to embrace him, but the form had vanished. She turned again, and cried, " My children ! Toney Carrie ! Whither ?" and a rustling near her arrested her notice again, in another quarter. She looked, and, at her feet, in suppliant attitude, she now beheld her husband. Hemy the long-lost but penitent and returning partner of her future ! " Annie, forgive !" he cried, as she fell weeping upon his manly bosom and suddenly aivoke, to realize that all had been but " fancy s picture !" The morning sun was shining clearly in at her narrow win dow, and, in this final joyful struggle, God had kindly removed from her brain the last trace of mental derangement, and she saw with new eyes, she heard with new ears ; and she of fered up her grateful thanks to Him who had thus given her a fresh lease of life. She rose cheerfully, attired herself with unusual precision and care, and, soon after the breakfast hour, she sent for the resident attending physician. " Good morning, doctor," said Annie, composedly and pleasantly, " how do I look to-day ?" " Remarkably improved, madam," said the physician, with a smile. " Let me see," he added, taking her hand in her own, and carefully consulting her pulse. " Your late treatment, and out-of-doors exercise, have cer tainly relieved you. Your pulse is good, and I am happy to see you so much better." " Doctor," said Annie, " I feel that I am entirely recovered ; ANNIE ELLSON S DREAM. 189 and I am now as well as I ever was in my life, though not yet so strong as I could wish to feel." " You are surely better." " I am well, doctor well, I assure you. My niind is clear, my whole system is rejuvenated, and T know I am at this mo ment entirely recovered." " I hope you may so find it," said the Doctor, kindly ; " but we must not be precipitate, you know." " You see I am calm, doctor. Question me. I will reply to you, and you shall judge me. It is unnecessary that you should inform me where I am, or how long I may have been here. I see it all. I pray you, communicate with your asso ciates, and permit me to depart from this place at an early moment. Will you do so ?" The doctor looked in her eye, and could detect no shade of deceit or hallucination there, and said : " Yes, madam, I will do so with pleasure." " When shall I see you again ?" " Within the hour, Mrs. Ellson," he answered. And five minutes afterward the Doctor was with the Super intendent, relating to him the details of this remarkable and palpably favorable change. CHAPTEB XXXI. THE STRANGE RESTORATION. Thou, God, wilt hear! Thy pangs are meant To heal the spirit uot destroy. STEEUSG. MRS. MEEKER had called upon Annie once or twice, at the Asylum, and she found herself there, for the third time, on the afternoon of her restoration to mental health. Her kind-hearted husband had taken so great an interest in this poor family, that she felt it a pleasant duty, at Mr. Meeker s request, to visit the wife and mother, whom she had found improving so rapidly after her first interview with her. Annie related to her sympathetic friend the particulars of her dream, which Mrs. Meeker pronounced curious. " But," she added, " I am greatly gratified to see that you are so well to-day." " It is the hand of God, Mrs. Meeker," said Annie, rever ently. " My recovery has been gradual, and for weeks I have been rapidly gaining. But my dream was such a happy one ! (3h ! if I could but feel that this is the truthful forerunner of my future, to some extent, how happy should I be." " Haply it may be so," said her friend. " And so I think. For this I have long prayed in faith and THE STRANGE RESTORATION. 193 earnestness. Would that God, in his mercy, might again unite us," she exclaimed, with all her heart. The pious Mrs. Meeker fervently responded " Amen !" " I have long been convinced," continued Annie, " that kin dred spirits, separated by death or misfortune, do approach each other, at times when the bodily tenements are least an ticipating it. In our dreams, how often do we see the forms of those we love, who may have been torn from us by adver sity, or who have even passed from us to the other life ? How often do we seem to speak with them, and communicate with them thus, as clearly and as vividly as if we stood beside them here, in our earthly persons ? Have you never thought of this, Mrs. Meeker 2" " You are right. In our sleep this is common, I know." " Why, then, may not they be with us when we are waking ? Why are not the spirits of the blest, made per fect, constantly hovering about us, though AVC can not see them ? So it seems to me," continued Annie, " and I enter tain no doubts tiat our absent earthly friends and relatives, who may sympathize with us, as often thus meet us at their sides, and see and talk with our spirits, as I surely did with those of my husband and little ones last night. Do you know or hear of them, Mrs. Meeker ?" queried the mother at this juncture. " Do you hear of or see my poor husband or the children ?" she repeated, with deep earnestness. " I can only answer in reference to your husband, Mrs. Ell- son. Of the children we know nothing definite now." " And he is well, is he not ?" inquired Annie. " And he is that is he he does not give you trouble, does he ?" she added, quickly, but nervously. 192 THE RAG-PICKER. " No. Upon this point I bring you good news," replied her friend. " Thank God ! Thank God, oh, my soul !" exclaimed Annie, fervently. " He is well, you say, too ?" " Yes, yes. But you must be calm, or we shall not be al lowed to speak with you here, you know." " Oh ! I am calm, and I will be calm. Don t, I beseech you, Mrs. Meeker do not withhold from me any intelligence regarding Henry that I may be permitted to know. Tell me that he is well and happy, and that he has abandoned the only fault of his checkered life. Tell me that he has reformed, and that I may see see Henry, perhaps again, some time hence not now ! not now ! I 11 wait, patiently, and calmly, and resignedly, and will never speak aloud," she added, lowering her voice to a whisper. "He has greatly improved in his condition of late," re plied Mrs. Meeker. " And will he come to see me ? Will they permit him to come and and speak to me one word, do you think ? Oh ! try them, try them ! Tell them how strong I am, won t you dear Mrs. Meeker ? You see for yourself I am strong now, and could bear to to see Henry ! Could I not ?" " By and by, then." "When when? To-morrow? Next day? When? Tell me when I shall see him, and I will wait ah ! you shall see how patiently ! And I will count the hours, minutes, seconds that shall pass ere I may clasp him to my heart. Oh ! my kindest of friends, could you but know how fondly we have loved, how deeply he has been wronged, and how kind he was until until his heart was broken by his misfortunes, you THE STRANGE RESTORATION. 193 could then imagine what this cruel separation costs us. I beseech you bring him here. Am I not well ? Say, am I not calm and rational ?" " Well, then, I will communicate with your physicians, and you can undoubtedly see him soon." " Does he know I am here "?" " No, no," replied Mrs. Meeker. " We have never told him this." " Does he ask for Annie, then ?" " Yes ; he has sought you diligently of late, but you have been too ill to see him as yet. You are now getting much better, and he will soon come, I am sure." " Bless him ! God bless and prosper him !" said the joyful wife, with her whole heart. And very soon after this Mrs. Meeker departed from the Asylum, after repeated promises to the wife that Henry should visit her within a few days. Upon consulting with the officers of the institution, who seemed to be satisfied that the woman was very much im proved, and that there could be no apprehensions as to the result, after a proper delay, it was agreed that Mr. Ellson should be admitted to an interview with his wife, in presence of one of the doctors, on the third day following. And Mrs. Meeker left with a lightened heart and a joyful countenance, for this decision rendered her very happy. Mrs. Ellson had now been a charity-occupant of this Asylum for over seven long years ! But she had no idea at all of this fact. 9 CHAPTER XXXII. THE DEBTOR IN PRISON. It might be months, or years, or days I kept no count I took no note ; I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote ; At last men came to set me free ; I asked not why, and reck d not where ! ER OF CHILOX. A FEW days prior to the scene just recorded, a man whose means were limited, but whose heart was large enough to contain a brother s sympathy for all the world who were in distress, found his way to the debtor s department of the Boston jail. This man was Mr. Meeker, the goldsmith, who had sought out the object of his present solicitude, after long inquiry ; and who had learned that day, that Henry Ellson lay incarcerated within the stone walls of a dreary prison, upon an unsatisfied execution obtained in court against him for an old debt, which he was utterly unable to pay. The poor inebriate had descended to the very lowest ebb of adversity (by his own reckleness and folly, it is true), and he had drank to the very dregs of bitter misery. But repentance came. He found himself on the verge of insanity, and his worn out, frightfully-taxed constitution could bear up no THE 1) E li T U H IN PRISON. 195 longer, when his good angel stood by him, even amid the almost hopelessness of his crushing poverty and destitution, and bade him " Arise, and be saved !" He obeyed the solemn but encouraging summons ; and, though his acquired appetite for indulgence well-nigh de voured him, yet he was firm, unflinching resolved to reform or die in the effort. Yet scarcely had he found himself upon his feet (after learning, as he soon did, that his family had been scattered), ere a lynx-eyed and rapacious creditor, who held an old judgment against him, thrust the demand impera tively in his face, and threatened him with imprisonment if it were not liquidated forthwith. It was utterly out of Ellson s power to meet the claim, and the merciless wretch threw him into jail, where Meeker found him. The "good Samaritan" who thus chanced upon Ellsou, in formed him that he came to consult with, and to aid him, if possible ; and, after cautiously sounding him upon his views and his hopes, he frankly informed him that he knew some thing of his family and his domestic troubles ; and then asked him if he did not desire to meet his wife and children. At this friendly mention of the names of those he had once loved with all a father s and an affectionate husband s devo tion, the tears rushed to Ellson s eyes, and he exclaimed : "Oh, sir, do you" know of them ? Do you know my Annie and her little ones ? Do they yet live ? And shall I ever again be permitted to to see and to beg their forgiveness ?" The broken and contrite spirit of the sufferer gratified his friend for the moment, for his humble manner was pregnant with promise. 196 THE RAG-PICKER. " I do know them," said Mr. Meeker, " and I know that your wife is still faithful and loving. But she has suffered fearfully since you saw her last." " Yes, yes it must be so !" exclaimed Henry. " And / did it. / was the cause of all her woe, as well as my own ruin. I am guilty guilty my God ! how guilty have I been," he continued, amid his anguish. " Look up," responded Meeker, reverently ; " there is a Power that rules our fate, rough-hew it as we will. The good God who controls us, and guides us, and who chastises with a loving hand, turns no deaf ear to the supplications of the penitent prodigal. Seek strength of HIM, and your steps will be made to walk in the path that leads to Life !" " I can not pray," murmured Ellson ; " I dare not ask for giveness ! His holy law has been grievously outraged, and I have sinned beyond the hope of pardon ! My wife my poor deserted, suffering, heart-crushed Annie, and her babes ! Oh I see them see them for me. Tell her I should fall dead at her feet to meet her now ! I can t I can not look her in the face no, no, no !" shrieked the repentant, covering his fore head in his hands, as he wept like a child. His friend attempted to comfort him with soothing words, but he cried aloud in his agony. " Don t speak thus to me, sir I can t bear it I can t I can t ! For years and years, sir, I have been the butt of ribaldry, the scoff and scorn of my fellows. And I have never heard such words as these from mortal lips save hers ! Oh, Mr. Meeker ! she was the kindest, the truest, the best of wives ! God s goodness never vouchsafed a gentler being, to soothe and smooth the sorrows of an erring husband. But I THE DEBTOR IN PRISON. 197 killed her- murdered her, by tortures inconceivable. And she bore it all, and never turned upon me never, never, never ! I am cursed for this ! I feel it, and I would not escape. It is my doom, my righteous, rightful doom, and I deserve it. Ay ! This ? A thousand times worse than this, sir, for such monstrous treachery and brutality !" " You have sinned, but you have suffered for your short comings," added Mr. Meeker, mildly. "The lesson thus taught you, you may well profit by, if you will." "And do you do you think, sir," asked the poor man meekly, " do you think God can forgive such a wretch ? Will He not has He not already turned me over to the fangs of the dark Fiend, for all this sin ?" " Be comforted, Ellson. Trust in God. For His mercy is great toward us, and His loving-kindness and truth endureth forever ! " responded Mr. Meeker, solemnly and tenderly. " Oh ! this is gentle and godly advice," said Ellson, humbly. " But, Mr. Meeker, / can not adopt it. / am too great a wretch to to turn back. The shining door is closed against me, and I, the miserable being who, for twelve long years, have rioted in iniquity, can not now be saved ! My wife and children have been ruined, my home destroyed, my name disgraced, and beggary and wretchedness must be their portion, and mine !" " She does not complain," began his friend. " Ah ! there it is again ? Don t don t mention that, for the love of God !" he cried, in deep agony, " for that is the gall of my bitterness. She never complained ! She was all gentleness and kindness, and purity and love ; and never word of reproach fell from my darling Annie s lips, though I crushed 198 T II E K A G - P I C K E R . her amid her meek and angel-like resignation. But her father cursed us cursed her, and me, and our babes. A father s curse, sir, but without reason. It followed us drove her mad, and me to destruction ! And yet, for all this," he continued, more quietly, at last, " she can never know, sir, how fondly I loved her, when Satan did not possess me." " Yet she does know this, Ellson ; and never did woman more truthfully and trustfully appreciate man s love, than does Annie yours." Ellson was silent for a moment ; and then, amid his fresh ening grief, he almost whispered : " Do you think so, my friend ?" " I know so, Ellson." " And do you think it would would be possible that Annie my wife would consent could consent to permit me, once only once to to see that is, to speak to her, and and- only one word, one word ? No no no ! I could n t I could n t ! One glance of those soft, gentle eyes, would blast me forever forever !" But his friend comforted him, and assured him that his case was not yet so desperate as he fancied. And, after an hour s further conversation, Mr. Meeker calmed the sufferer s troubled spirit, and brought him to a rightful consciousness of his situation. " But this debt, Mr. Meeker, the claim for which I am now confined here. It is impossible for me to meet it, you see. It is a just one I owe it, and if I live to earn the means to discharge it, I will do so to the last farthing. Yet, here, sir where I have now been confined for months, because of my utter inability to cancel it here, I can do nothing, and my THE DEBTOR IN PRISON. 199 creditor is obdurate. If I could be released if lie -would kindly suffer me to go out of this place, I would willingly toil to earn the money to pay him, principal and interest. I have done wrong, sir, grievously and, I fear, almost irretrievably wrong but I can not but think that this law is a mistake. How can I pay the debt while I am thus confined and crippled ?" " You are right, Ellson, on this point. Your creditor stands clearly in his own light. I say you have erred, and because you are unable to pay, simply, is not a sufficient reason why you should thus be deprived of your liberty, and the oppor tunity, if you will, to gain the means to live and to discharge this debt. This law is a palpable and oppressive mistake, as you have said." And truer word was never spoken. The requisitions of the statutes in reference to the poor debtor, at that period, were indisputably a foul blot upon the generally fair pages of the Massachusetts legal code. They presumed all men to be rogues and cheats ; and the money less unfortunate was placed on a footing only with the knave and the robber. Verily, the honest poor man is the excep tion, not the rule ! And better, far better, that a hundred villains escape the penalty of their unrighteous offenses, than that the first innocent, though poverty-stricken denizen, should be subjected to the first hour of imprisonment, simply for debt! Since that period, our debtor s law has been im proved ; but, to-day, the unhappy poor man may be tempora rily thrust into prison, if his poverty compels him to owe what he can not pay. Blot out forever blot out this infamous rule, oh ! ye wise and humane law-makers of our enlightened dav ! Erase from 200 THE RAG-PICKER. the pages of your statute-book, ye legislators of Massachu setts, every vestige of this stigma of the barbaric age. And believe that while the very worst use you can put a man to, is to hang him, so the next worst (under any circumstances), 18 tO IMPRISON HIM FOR DEBT 1 CHAPTER XXXIII. A JOYFUL MEETING. I ll tell thee apart Of the thoughts that start To being, when thou art nigh ; And thy beauty, more bright Than the stars soft light, Shall seem as a weft from the sky. SUELLET. " Do you think it 11 do, doctor ?" inquired the straight- laced matron of the Asylum, appealing to the resident phy sician, in reference to the finally proposed meeting between Ellson and his late lunatic wife. " Do you think it 11 answer yet ?" " I apprehend no inconvenience, or ill results, now," re sponded the doctor, kindly. " Mrs. Ellson seems to be in good spirits, and though I deem her case a most remarkable one, yet I think her mind is strong again, and I know that her pulse has got to be very regular, for I have consulted it often within a few days." " But you know how they go off, under such circumstances These lovers, and specially love-sick wimmin, is hard cases you know." The matron was a " maiden lady" of five-and-fifty. She had never been married, and had been educated as a profes- 9* 202 T II E K A (I - I I C K K R . sional nurse. She was au fait in lior calling, however, and possessed all the " requisites" of a woman of nerve ! This is the kind of female employed, too often, at these public estab lishments, the directors preferring " strong-minded women," decidedly, to those whom God has blessed with a goodly al lowance of genuine woman s sympathy. And so the matron insisted that if she had the manage ment of the case, she should n t suffer any such thing, at pres ent ; for, didn t she want the woman to get thoroughly well, first ? Where was the use of her seein her husband, or he , a-seein her ? There d be a scene, of course there would ! Such a billin and cooin would follow the meetin as was rare in the Sylum, to be sure ! The matron not being of a very loveable turn of mind had never been troubled either with husband or lover, and conse quently, she knew nothing whatever of these matters practi cally. The doctor said : " I see no harm in it, Mrs. Bray. I have given a permit to Mr. Meeker to bring his friend here, to-morrow, and I shall be present with them, at the interview. I hope that Mrs. Ellson will soon be able to leave the Asylum, too, and I have no doubt of it, either, now." " Then you 11 see her back ag in in less n a month, ten times wuss n ever !" said Mrs. Bray, stoutly. " / have no doubt o that, eyther !" " Perhaps not," said the doctor, rising, and leaving Mrs. Bray to think the matter over at her leisure. The next day, the doctor having kindly and considerately prepared Annio for tho happiness that awaited her, the wife A JOYFUL MEETING. 203 arose from a refreshing night s sleep, and really thought that she had never felt better in her life than on this happy morn ing. In the mean time, Mr. Meeker had communicated with the hitherto unreasonable creditor of Ellson, and after some con siderable pro-ing and cow-ing, the man concluded to allow his poor debtor to leave the prison, with the express under standing that he should " go to work, at once, and pay him up, or he would put him back again, that was all" a pro cess which he might have accomplished, by the way, if it afforded any particular gratification to him, but which would not have helped the discharging of his debt, veiy suddenly, nevertheless. Through the continued kindness of Mr. Meeker, as soon as Henry Ellson left his late confinement, he was provided with a comfortable new suit, throughout, and after visiting the bar ber s, he appeared quite another sort of being. In his plain black dress, lie wore the air of a quiet, unobtrusive gentle man (as he always had been while he was himself), and full of hope and joy, he at last took his friend s arm, and they walked slowly away toward the dwelling of his long-lost wife, whom Mr. Meeker informed him was in waiting to receive him. Ellson had not yet been informed where Annie dwelt, though Mr. Meeker had faithfully detailed to the husband the particulars of her late and her present condition. When they halted at last before the gate that opened into the Asylum yard, where Annie was still detained, he started, looked into Mr. Meeker s face, and said with deep feeling : " She is n t here, surely ?" Yes, Ellsoii- -Annie .? here. She ha 1 * boon .in inmate of 204 THE RAG-PICKER. this institution for several years, and was brought hither a maniac when you first missed her a long period since. It was the best place known for her, and here she has enjoyed the best possible care, accompanied by skillful, and, fortunately, successful treatment. Her case was thought to be a dubious one, however, at first, owing to her sickness and thorough prostration. She has now rallied, and is pronounced by the physicians to be well once more. Thank God, then, Mr. Ell- son, and the liberality of those whom He has in his mercy influenced to found and support such a place a timely and hopeful refuge for the unhappy and indigent insane." " You are right, my fiiend ; I see the benefit of all this wise provision." "Now, then, Ellson, you will soon meet your wife, whose mind has been prepared for this interview. Bo calm and firm, and do not commit any act that shall excite her nerves. And may Heaven bless and guard you both in this trying but joy ful hour !" exclaimed Mr. Meeker, as they entered the biiilding together. Annie was sitting alone at a center-table in the inner re ception-room, when the door opened softly, and her friend and kind physician came in. " Mr. Ellson is below, Annie," he said. He will be up directly. Do you feel very calm and collected in your mind, to-day?" " Never better, I assure yon, dear doctor." " And you won t be noisy and get excited, will you ?" " Nothing of the kind, doctor. I am very strong again, and have schooled myself for this happy meeting. You see I am calm and rational eh ?" A JOYFUL MEETING. 205 "That is right, and I am rejoiced at your good fortune. Mr. Ellson is a fine-looking man, and is anxious to see you. I will return with him directly," said the doctor. And descend ing to the apartment below, he gave Ellson a few words of advice suitable to the affair of the moment, and, with Mr. Meeker and Ellson, he ascended the stairs, opened the door, and presented to the wife her loved and long-absent husband. "Henry /" she screamed, with all the fervor of her soul. And the repentant sprang forward and clasped her to his throbbing heart. Annie /" responded the husband, as the big tears coursed freely down his manly cheeks. " Forgive me, Annie ! forgive the author of all your bitter woe !" And while the husband and wife were fast locked in each other s arms, there were no dry eyes in that apartment. " God be praised for all his tender-mercies !" involuntarily exclaimed Mr. Meeker, wiping the tear-drops from his own face. "Amen /" responded the good doctor, with an earnestness that showed how cordially he sympathized with the happy pair before him. And a, deep silence a silence fraught with Joy, too big for human utterance," succeeded, as Annie clung to her Henry s neck, while he con tinued still to press her fondly, again and again, to his over charged heart. CHAPTER XXXIV. DAYLIGHT BREAKING. But though impressions calm and sweet Thrill round my heart a holy heat, And I am inly glad The tear-drop stands in either eye, And yet, I scarce can tell thee why, I in pleased, and yet I m sad. JlEN KT KlRKE WHITE. IN her brightest days, saving that an unusual paleness per vaded her features, Annie Ellson never appeared better, or more beautiful, than she did when Henry was thus presented to her. She was very simply attired, but her pure white skin, her blush-tinted cheeks, her well-arranged dress, and her happy expression, quickly called back to the mind of Henry the joy ous days of their early love ; and the re-union was the more ecstatic from the perfect frankness of Annie, and her utter forgetfulness, seemingly, of herself, anxious as she was, at the very outset, to remove from the suspicions of Henry every trace possible that she ever recollected his error. She comported herself with extraordinary dignity and pro- propriety throughout the trying scene ; and, notwitstanding the stifled fears of both the doctor and Mr. Meeker (who were witnesses of the meeting), nftev the first gush of passion had DAYLIGHT BREAKING. 20T escaped her lips, though, she wept hot tears of glowing joy, she was as calm and composed as if her husband had but just returned to her side after a journey. And when the ebullitions of their mutual rapture had subsided, the doctor, in order to aid them out of this dilemma a little, suddenly exclaimed, in the fullness of his heart " Bravo ! bravely accomplished, my dear Mrs. Ellson bravely done ! Let me congratulate you," he added, advanc ing, and seizing the hands of husband and wife. " You are safe, Annie, and I rejoice again that you have borne this scene so well. God is good, and however assiduous may be our efforts for the restoration of those who are unfortunately placed under our care, to His power and beneficence are we indebted for the realization of success." " And to Him be all the glory !" added Mr. Meeker, im pressively, as he cordially pressed the extended hands of his new-made friends. The ordeal was a serious one, but the Rubicon was safely passed, and the joy of all the friends was complete. "And now, Ellson," said Mr. Meeker, "I presume our friend, the doctor, has prepared the discharge of Annie, agreeably with my suggestions to him a week since." To which query the doctor replied in the affirmative. " If you are inclined, then, we will all return to my house, where Mrs. Meeker awaits us. There we can arrange for the future, at our leisure." Within the succeeding half hour a carriage stood in readi ness at the door of the institution, to convey the happy party from its confines to light and joy and freedom. As soon ns th^ necessary preliminaries could be arranged, 208 THE RAG-PICKER. they entered the vehicle. " To Front street," said Mr. Meeker to the driver. And the trio of friends departed for the hos pitable home of the goldsmith, whom Providence seemed to have thus mysteriously placed upon the track of the unlucky and down-trodden Ellson. Mrs. Meeker received them with unaffected satisfaction and delight ; and the partner of her joys was extremely happy, in asmuch as he felt that he had discharged his duty, and his undertaking seemed to have been crowned with success. A neatly furnished room was appropriated to the exclusive use of the new comers, and every thing that their noble bene factors could do to render their situation quiet and pleasant and acceptable to Annie and Henry, was freely and liberally carried out. Annie did not forget her little ones in the midst of her hap piness by any means. She soon plied Mrs. Meeker and her husband with a thousand pressing queries regarding the chil dren, their probable fate, and present whereabouts ; and all the information it was possible for them to render they cheer fully gave. Mrs. Ellson deeply regretted to learn of Dolly s death, for she felt that she had been under deep obligations to her at a time when she had no means to assist herself. But nothing could be heard of Toney or Carrie. Their continued absence affected Annie sensibly. Henry Ellson immediately set to work to find some occupa tion suited to his abilities. He had no one to take him by the hand save Mr. Meeker, and he saw at a glance that him self and his wife must of necessity soon become a burden upon his generosity. DAYLIGHT BREAKING. 209 With the goldsmith s aid and influence, however, he shortly had a goodly prospect. And, making the most of his oppor tunity, he applied himself with assiduity and earnestness to redeem the reputation and time he had so recklessly lost ; while, by his efforts, he might also be enabled to earn a sub sistence, pay up the pecuniary obligations that embarrassed him, and at the same time remunerate his faithful friend Meeker for the losses and trouble to which he had been sub jected in his labor of love toward himself and his. CHAPTER XXXV. THE THEODOLITE MAKER. This life, and all that it contains, to him Is hut a tissue of illuminous dreams, Fill d with book-wisdom. HENEY TAYLOR. OLD DAVY devoted himself, with determined diligence, to the new occupation that had taken possession of his mind ; and, after close application and perseverance, at the end of two or three years, he had mastered the mechanical intrica cies that encompassed the peculiar profession he had chosen, and which had originally been suggested to him by one of those trivial circumstances that occasionally occur in life, but which oftentimes lead to a development of faculties or ideas that otherwise might rest dormant and forever unimproved. For a long time after he left the scene of his early associa tions in Boston, attended by his charming little Carrie, he had followed his prior calling ; and in the new field into which he introduced himself, the rag-picker quickly found that he should not suffer from competition, for he was almost alone in his trade. This fact greatly encouraged him ; and by slow degrees, with Carrie s assistance, he gathered together what was to him a valuable assortment of materials with which to begin THE THEODOLITE MAKER. 211 life again. He hired a small shop upon the river street of the city where he sojourned, and depositing his rags and junk, and scraps of iron therein, he soon opened a small traffic, in his way, which at length increased to a paying business once more, for his expenses were very trifling. Here he sat, as of old, from day to day, and after awhile found that others had embraced his original avocation, who from time to time came to him to dispose of their little wares. He bought and sold, and bargained and bartered, and found himself the master of a few dollars, surplus funds, at last. Carrie had been at school as constantly as possible, during this period, but all her leisure was passed in the society of Davy, who continued to love her as warmly as ever, and who did every thing in his power to render her happy. One day, among the contents of a bag of iron and brass scraps that he purchased casually, he discovered the remnants of a small instrument of curious construction, such as he had never before met with ; and, instead of throwing it aside with the rest, he cleansed it, and sat down to examine it. But at that time he could make nothing of its construction or uses. He thought it over, and finally took it to a skillful mechanic near his junk-shop, of whom he made inquiries regarding its character and probable use. This young man was an accom plished artisan, in his way. He had served his apprentice ship with a theodolite maker, and was now in business upon his own account, and doing excellently well. Old Davy s manner toward this person had always been neighborly and respectful, and when he called upon him, the artisan informed him at once, that the remnant he held in his hand was a portion of one of the very instruments he was 212 THE RAG-PICKER. then making for the surveying department of a new railway, about to be laid out across the State they were in. This interested Davy, and he sat down to inquire further into the matter, the uses of the theodolite, and the profit to be acquired upon their manufacture. The replies he received were satisfactory, and he returned to his little shop again. Hero, at his leisure, he went to Avork to unravel the me chanical mysteries that seemed to envelop this curious little instrument ; and he procured such works upon art and mathe matics as subsequently proved valuable to him in his experi ments. From time to time he visited his young friend again, who quickly saw what old Davy was doing, and who encour aged him, and assisted him, and taught him many things that were necessary for him to know, in order to acquit himself creditably in the art to which he had thus suddenly taken a fancy. And so, at the expiration of three years of study and appli cation, he had mastered the rudiments of his novel profession. His days were passed in experimenting, or in perfecting his machines, and his evenings with the charming Carrie at his side were occupied with constant study of the intricacies of art and mechanism, as applied to the purposes of the compass and the telescope. With all his ripened energies, and the natural determination of his character, old Davy continued to labor and investigate and practice the results of his scientific acquisitions for four or five years longer ; and, in the mean time, the business of the younger mechanic had become greatly extended, and he had given the old man several of his surplus orders for instru ments, which had been constructed with curiously accurate THE THEODOLITE MAKER. 213 precision and nicety, until at last the youthful tutor was con strained magnanimously to acknowledge, that his aged " ap prentice," as he called him, was his decided master in the art ! And this extraordinary excellence had been attained by Davy in the midst of trying difficulties ajid excessive poverty. Yet he was naturally a mechanic ; and even in his declining years, he suddenly found that there was something for him to toil and study for. The child whom God had placed in his charge was growing to be a woman. Her charms and her faculties were daily developing, and her wants were increasing. For her he labored, for her happiness and weal he burned the midnight lamp, and for her present and future good did Davy cheerfully and continuously submit to privations, hard toil, and personal sacrifices, that he might be enabled to rear and educate his lovely protegee prosperously, virtuously, and in the fear of the good God who had given him this jewel to glad den him in his old age. Carrie Ellson continued to improve in beauty, and Davy had long since been able to provide her with an excellent home. He had furnished her with accomplished instructors, too, and she proved an apt scholar. And finally, she had attained her fifteenth birth-day, and, with well-developed fac ulties and constantly improving graces as happy as she well could be the former straggling homeless child, now sur rounded with comforts, approached to glorious womanhood. Davy gazed upon his beautiful charge with all a father s pride, although he had never been a father. He watched her budding charms with a commendably proud conscious ness that he had been instrumental, in the hands of Provi dence, in bringing about the result before him. 214 T II K K A G - P I C K K K . And when he reflected how faithful, how submissive, how humble, how constant Carrie had ever been amid destitution and want, and misfortune, which even he had at times been scarcely able to bear he marveled at her and at himself that she thus stood before him in all the honesty and inno cence and loveliness of woman s purity ! He looked and wondered, but remembered his Master s promise " And Avhosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water, only verily, I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose Ms reward." And Davy was contented, prosperous, happy CHAPTER XXXVI. N A P P O D U R O C . T is something in a dearth of fame Though link d among a fettered race, To feel, at least, a patriot s shame, E en as I sing, suffuse my face ! BYEON. ONE of the most striking peculiarities that meets the ob servation of the traveler or the sojounier in our Southern borders, is the unaffected and universal hospitality of the resi dents there upon all occasions. The writer having passed many a month among the people of several of our slave-holding States, and having enjoyed the pleasures and the generous treatment extended to stran gers, with an open hand, among the inhabitants (where the laws of the land, unfortunately, deprive a portion of God s people of the equity accorded to them by evsry principle of right and justice), feels in duty bound to speak in terms of personal gratitude of the men whose impulses are so frank and cordial, and kindly, toward " the stranger within their gates." Would to God that this noble evidence that their hearts are not altogether of flint, might be exhibited more in detail ; and that they could be brought to realize the solemn truth in Holy Writ, that " Of one blood has GOD made all the nations, to dwell on all the face of the earth !" In the State of Kentucky the traveler will rarely find a 216 T H E R A O - r t C K E R . dwelling closed by night or day. The liberality of her people is justly proverbial, and the wanderer within her borders can not fail to be graciously impressed with the uniform civility and cordial treatment of which he is made the recipient, con stantly, as he journeys from place to place. To this State, with all his prejudices, his animosities, his errors, and his obduracy of heart, did Anthony Brittan re pair, upon quitting New England, to eke out the remainder of his days in the gratification of his miserably-developed dis position to tyrannize over his supposed inferiors. Julie Manning, his beautiful ward, was with him there, and as far as it was possible for him to love any thing, he loved and petted his orphan charge. And as Julie grew prettier and more deserving of his love, he grew to esteem her (in his way) better and better, until this erratic man called her his " little one," his " darling," and finally his " daughter." Julie improved as she advanced in years. She was kind and faithful to her protector, and strove to render his new- home a happy one continually. But she soon got to be dis contented with her own position, and the associations that surrounded her, for she had been born in a free land ; in her early education she had been taught to " fear God and to love her brother ;" and she was ill at ease among the serfs that constituted her guardian s household. Brittan had invested her patrimony in slaves. He had gone as far South as he thought it prudent to go, for his own reasons. In Kentucky, the beauteous " system" was not carried to its fullest extent, and Brittan could not possibly get over his predilections in favor of residing (himself) in as close contiguity as convenient to free States and free laws ! X A P P O DUUOC. 217 Brittan was a curious paradox, but withal he was heartless, ignorant, selfish, and naturally a tyrant. Taskem came to see him often, and procured " hands" for him, whenever he wanted them. Much of the time of this miserable huckster in hu man beings was passed at Brittan s estate, and the twain be came veiy intimate, finally. One day the Tennessee man came upon Brittan suddenly, and rather unexpectedly. " How are yer ?" he exclaimed, as he entered the house, at Grenville. " I Ve got him, at last" " Have you ?" responded Brittan, well pleased with the an nouncement, for he had commissioned Taskem to purchase Naf)po, if possible, the latter having sold Brittan s old servant immediately upon his return with him to Memphis, subse quently to the recovery of this piece of " property" in Boston. " So you Ve found him ?" said Brittan, " eh 2" " Yes. It took a heap o money to buy him back, though," replied Taskem, as usual, preparing Brittan s mind a little, previously to swindling him in the price ; a trick which the huckster performed regularly whenever he furnished Brittan with an additional hand. " Well, Taskem, as I Ve always told you, I cared nothing about that. I want that boy, and I m willing to pay for him ; that s all. How much ? eh ?" " Well, he s smarter n lightnin , that Nappo. I sold him when I got back from that cussed Puritan hole, Boston, for eight hunder d dollars. But he could do every thing any thing, as it turned out, an his new master soon found this out, yer see. Wen I wanted him ag in, he would n t sell. I Ve been a tryin fer im these two year n more. T last, he got a little lame, an his owner gin him up." 10 218 THE HAG-TICKER. " Good ! At how much F " I thouglit yer wanted him, enny how, an though I can git more fer im, I shall put him to yor at jest his cost and freight up river, yere ; seventeen hundred and forty dollars," said Taskein, without wincing. He had bought Nappo back, at auction, in Natchez, five weeks before, for three hundred and fifteen dollars ! But this was only one out of many similar "good bargains" that Task- em had " accommodated" Brittan with, after he reached Ken tucky ! Nappo had lived too long in Massachusetts to submit tamely to the yoke and scourge together, upon his return to bondage, and he had proved a most unprofitable servant to the parties to whom he had been sold in the last few years. Taskem kept his eye on him, however, in the hope that he would improve, so that he could make something handsome by his subsequent purchase of him. But the boy grew worse, instead of better, and at length Taskem snapped him up at a venture, with a view of disposing of him to his old master, Brittan. But Nappo hated both Taskem and Brittan with a supreme hatred. He was sufficiently intelligent to see, at the outset, that they had connived together to force him back into sla very, for he felt certain that if his former master in Massa chusetts had been so disposed, he could easily have saved him. He had secretly sworn that he would be avenged upon the slave-hunter at some time or other; but Taskem did not know or care for this. As to Brittan, he had forgotten the t>art he had taken in the matter originally. But Nappo, though he might forgive, aid not for get his injuries. CHAPTER XXXVII. U R I T T A N S KENTUCKY HOME. The law by which God governs the universe is a law of progress * * * Slavery is sectional ; liberty is NATIONAL ! EOBEET KANIOTJL, JR. NAPPO, with the memory of his wrongs keenly upon him, became desperate, fractious, unruly, and difficult to manage. He created disturbance and mutiny among his slave associates wherever he went. He was whipped, and starved, and bruised, and maltreated ; but all this made him worse and worse, imtil his reputation came to be such that nobody would buy him to retain him in their service. Taskem took care not to allude to all this in Brittan s pres ence, however, though he was well advised of it. " Lame, did you say ?" queried Brittan. " Yes, slightly none to hurt, though, I reckon," said Taskem, deceitfully. " How came it ? Is it permanent ?" " Nuthin o the kind. Yer see, w ile yer had the boy up in the Bay State, yer let him run to his own head ; an w en he came back, he did n t know edzactly w at he d got to do. So they larrup d him a little -jess for exercise like, an his own good, yer see nuthin more an he soon comes to his senses. But he tried his old trick o runnin away, a year ago, 220 T II E K A G - I i C K K It . and fell off the levee on to the edge of a sunk flat-boat, an hurt his ankle. It 11 soon be all right ag in, hows ever, an yer can manage him better n any body else, cause yer know him through and through, yer see," continued Taskem, stop ping to take breath. " Oh, as to the managing part," said Brittan, haughtily, " I r ll take care o that. He s as fraid of me as if I were the devil himself. I 11 see to all that. And if he s obstrep erous with me, I 11 break every bone in his infernal black skin, do you mind ?" concluded Brittan, indignantly. " So yer can," said Taskern. " There s no law agin that, yere. Yer could n t do that, yer see, in the country where yer came from, eh ? Not by no means. But yer ken do it ere, an no questions asked. And that s one o the beauties of the " system," too arn t it ? All it wants is pluck that s all ! Some of our proprietors is mealy-mouthed, and indulg ent, and scared at a ugly nigger. Gi me the man as can stand up to his rights the rights that the law gives us, an no bau king ! Such a man as Lewis, fer instance, ef occa sion calls for it." " Lewis ?" said Brittan, " who s he f " " "W y, Jefferson s nephy." " I don t remember," said Brittan, again. " Wai, he lived yere in Kaintucky, an he hed a nigger that smashed a mug or vase, or somethin o that sort ; an so Lewis took an locked up all his niggers in one room, at night, an told em Now, sez he, boys, look yer ! Tom s bin a smasliin glassware, an I m goiif to make a sample uv him fer the benefit uv the rest uv yer, ef yer ain t keerful. A.U Lewis jess took and tied Tom to a block, in the middle u KIT TAN S KENTUCKY HOME. 221 o 7 the floor, an chopped him to death with a ax a sharp ax, I s poze it was an throw d the pieces uv im into the fire, afore the other niggers eyes !" " Whew !" exclaimed Brittan. " Well, that was rather too savage. I could n t do that /" " Could n t ? W y, p raps you won t hev to do it," said Taskem, mechanically. " But I tell yer there s nuthin like pluck nuth n." " Where is Nappo, now ?" queried the Englishman. " In the jail, close by." " In jail ? what for ?" " Oh, nuth n. That s where we allers put em, yer know, when we get em so fur north as this. That is, / allers do, fer safe keepin ." " Well, I will give you your price for Nappo." "All right, Brittan. I ll hev him ere to-night," said Taskem ; and he retired to get the property, which was rather troublesome to him, and which he was anxious to get rid of. Nappo s lameness was the result of a broken limb. A former master, in Louisania, had had him seized up for some trifling offense, and had set another stout negro to flaying him for his misdemeanor. Nappo broke away, and after ward crushed the jaw of the slave who had whipped him. During the melee he had been thrown down a flight of stairs, where he broke his leg. This owner immediately afterward got rid of him. He Avas very soon sold again, however, and again and again. No one could manage him. And lastly, Taskem purchased him at " public vendue," and Brittan be came his fortunate owner, at seventeen hundred round dollars. This this in our boasted " land of freedom !" The Lewis J22 THE KAG-PICKER. affair, hinted at by Taskem, is a matter of history. And there exists in America, men that is to say, beings human beings, whom God has blessed with common intelligence who justify their fellow-men in thus oppressing and crushing out the hopes, the very lives, of their darker-skinned brothers. In certain places a resort is had, with perfect impunity, to the vilest and extremest tortures to " break in" the refrac tory unfortunates that fall beneath the ban of the slaveholder. And the free North and Northern men exclaim, regarding slavery, " It is the law we will acquiesce" While the cring ing, fawning, lying sycophants, who live by the bread of poli tics, back up this sentiment (for office) and tell us that this is the criterion by which we may judge of their " national" democracy ! God be praised that the day for the belief in such cant and hypocrisy, such injustice and ignoble deceit, such base and flagitious sentiments, is rapidly passing away, and that the American PEOPLE, as a great and powerful nation, are setting their faces like a flint against this accursed system of bru tality, and its defenders. Let the Church of Christ arise in its might and power to maintain and support the action of the great mass that is moving in opposition to this curse of our fair land ! Let the ministers of the Holy Gospel stand up like the prophets of old, and " cry aloud, and spare not," until our country shall, in reality, BE FEEE until, throughout all this land, in deed as truly as in words, "Liberty shall be national i CHAPTER XXXVIII. A QUESTIONABLE INVESTMENT. Oh ! who so base as not to feel The pride of freedom once enjoyed Though hostile gold, or hostile steel, Have long that bliss destroyed ? JOANXA BAILLIE. " KNOCK him down !" shouted a stranger. " Wot s the use ? He 11 pick himself up faster n ten men could knock him down, dam im !" cried another individual, roughly, in reply. " Don t mark him, though. I don t want him hurt, yer see, cause I Ve sold him, and the proprietor s pertick lar. There ! that 11 do better. Choice him. That 11 do. They can t see the marks o that, down so low. That s it. Now hold hard, and I 11 put these ruffles on his wrists." Between the two men, and struggling fiercely, not to get away, but apparently to get at the second speaker, could be seen a large brawny-armed negro, who halted along as he struggled, and showed a lameness in one of his legs. It was our old acquaintance Nappo, whom Taskem had released from the jail, and whom he had provoked, in some way, as the slave came out of his prison-house. " Now, come along !" bellowed Taskem, threateningly. " Wot the devil do yer suppose / care about w ether yer like 224 THE RAG-PICKER. him or no ? I ve sold yer to him, an I hope he 11 mash yer infernal black head in for yer, after yer out my hands. That s all the good / wish for yer, yer ungrateful devil s imp." Nappo did not utter a \vord. The Philistines were upon him a score of white men having come to Taskern s aid and he was silent, and moved away at last between his two rough keepers. Nappo had learned some other matters, while he was living in free Massachusetts, which he had not forgotten, and which he had experienced the full force of after his return to Ten nessee ; and among these was the fact, that under no circum stances, however greatly a negro may have been outraged, or maimed, or brutalized, he can not (nor can any slave for him), be a witness in any court of justice in any action against his white master. Therefore, while he might be beaten and cuffed and strangled 7 O O by Taskem, he knew that there was no redress for him legally ; and, as he had no command over his passions, he turned upon the slave-catcher with the intention of carrying out his prior promise to be " even wid him, some day or nudder." As is usually the case, however, poor Nappo came oft "second best." He was rudely handled, hand-cuffed, and driven along toward the residence of Brittan, whom he de spised beyond measure for his duplicity and treachery toward him on a former occasion. " I Ve handed him to the overseer in the yard," said Taskem, when he entered Brittan s house at length, imme diately upon arriving there; "an I told him what he might calkilate on ef he did n t go strait. He s got an idea into his head that he d rather work on a sugar plantation than come A QUESTIONABLE INVESTMENT. 225 up yere mong the terbackeY. But he 11 come round all right, and yer 11 find him a tip-top hand, I Ve no manner o doubt. Yes, thank ee ; that s right," continued Taskem, counting the money. " An yer say yer Ve got nuff ov em, now ?" " Yes," said Brittan, " for the present." " There s a gal down t St. Louis at I can get a nice one, as washes well, does up musl ns, braids, works broidery an hair, and is smart and strong, ef the young lady here would like such a one," added Taskem, insinuatingly, alluding to Brittan s ward. It was a good suggestion (for Taskem) ! And Brittan told him, when he came up the river again, he might fetch her along. The slave-hunter departed that evening, leaving Nappo behind him. Brittan sent for Nappo to come to him. After some delay the poor fellow entered the house, and stood in presence of his tyrant-master, whom he had not seen for many a year. Nappo had grown to be a stout man, and he was now nearly five-and-thirty years of age. " Well, Nappo," said Brittan, with a hypocritical attempt at being civil, " how do you like your new situation, eh ?" Nappo made no answer. " Arn t you glad to get back with your old master, Nappo ?" " No !" said the slave, sulkily. " No .*" continued Brittan. " Why I m astonished ! Did n t I always treat you Avell ?" " No !" said Nappo, firmly. " When did n t I treat you well ?" " Never !" persisted Nappo. 10* 226 T H E K A G - 1 I ( K E It . " Why, so help me God, you re the ungratefullest, blackest, miserablest devil it was ever ray misfortune to come across in the whole course o my life ! What d you mean, Nappo ?" " I mean, Massa Brittan," said Nappo, raising his head arid his hand at the same moment, " I mean dat w en you could hab saved Nappo you did n t ; dass all. An for dat for dat, Massa Brittan, God a mighty nebber 11 forgib yer, an I won t nudder, ef he do, any how dass a fact !" "Why you ungrateful black-a-moor," exclaimed Brittan, warming up as he spoke, " did n t I keep you thirteen years in my house, and pay you pay you wages ?" " Yis, an I arnt my money." " Shut up your mouth ! I fed and clothed you ; and I Ve bought you, now, to treat you well, if you deserve it. If you don t, I ll make you do it, that s all remember. I ll flog you within an inch of your life. I 11 pay you off for all your old tricks on me, you black thief! I 11 have you scored and thrashed till you come to your milk, if you show any sulks to me ! And I 11 let you know that you can t come none of your insolence and dam nigger nonsense here, do you mind !" " Yer can whip me, sah. De law lets you do dat, and dere s no pealing here." " Appeal ? I 11 peel the skin off your back !" " So you can, sah." " And put you in in pickle, afterward !" " Wai, an I won t holler, nudder see f I do, sah. I may die, but ef I don t, de man dat strikes de blows muss look out for hisself, dass all !" said Nappo, calmly . Brittan looked at the stalwart negro, who stood fully six- feet-two in his shoes, and he saw that he was a very different A QUESTIONABLE INVESTMENT. 227 sort of " animal" to what lie had been, and what he expected to find him. And he began to wish that he had his seven teen hundred and forty dollars back again in his pocket, and that Nappo was seventeen hundred and forty miles distant from him at the least ! However, it would not answer for Anthony Brittan the lordly, aristocratic, bull-headed proprietor of a Kentucky plan tation, and nearly fifty negroes, to show the white feather. So he said, as firmly as he could for he really did not like the glistening in Nappo s eye " Go to work, then, Nappo. Beck 11 direct you. And nobody 11 abuse you if you re civil." " I don t cal late dey will," said Nappo, retiring, and evi dently determined in his own heart upon some desperate move at an early opportunity ! CHAPTER XXXIX. THE CATASTROPHE. What ruin glares! What carnage swims! AVretches, who, wading half in lire From the toss d brands that round them fly Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire MOORE. ABOUT a year after Toney Ellson (or rather Mettler) had begun to take the lead on Mr. Mettler s farm, his benefactor suddenly took sick, and died in a very few days thereafter. The property was soon disposed of, on account of the quarrels of the heirs, and Toney found himself out of employment, with scarcely fifty dollars of money in the world. Though he had repeated and generous offers to remain in the vicinity, he declined them all, having determined to pro ceed to the Western country and establish himself somewhere, where he could do better, pecuniarily, in the end, as he be lieved. And so, without much delay, he put his resolve into execution, and arrived at Wheeling, Virginia, en route to Ohio or Illinois. Here he remained a few days, and sought the readiest and most economical mode of conveyance upon his contemplated journey. Competition among the steam companies, at that period, was rife, and overy stranger who approached the land- THE CATASTROPHE. 229 ing at the levee was importuned by the "runner" in the employ of the different lines, to proceed by his favorite boat. Toney looked about him, admired the different superb river structures that he saw, and at length directed his luggage a single trunk only to be carried on board the boat he finally selected from among half a score, then nearly ready to start, He chose a berth in the splendid steamer Champion, then about to proceed upon her second trip only, from Wheeling to New-Orleans, and " way-stations." The warmer season had nearly closed, and the weather in that region was getting sharp and crispy in October. The Champion was bound to Cincinnati first, thence to Louisville, and so down the Mississippi, stopping, as is the custom, at these large cities to add to her freight and passenger-list. She was a very beautiful boat, of the latest model, and of the better class of high-pressure " palaces," which are, at the present day, so common upon the waters of the great West. Upon leaving Wheeling, the river was unusually high, and a large complement of passengers joined her from the East, an ticipating a good run and a pleasant trip down the Ohio and Mississippi. Among the second-class passengers there were some three hundred emigrants, chiefly Germans, on board, who were bound to the farming grounds and prairies of Indiana, Michi gan, and Wisconsin, many of whom comprised respectable families, possessing no inconsiderable amount of ready gold, and furniture and tools of an excellent description. It chanced, at the hour the Champion sailed from her start ing-place, that two other fine boats, of a similar class, but which had boon in the trade some few voars the longest, came 230 THE BAG-PICKER. out from their moorings at the levee, and shot down the river in company with the Champion. They were rivals of each other, the Crescent and the Dart, and both were in opposition to the line to which the Champion belonged. The owners of the former steamers had given their masters and pilots direc tions to " head off" the new candidate for public favor at every possible point, and in every way in their power, and the consequence was what might have been expected the Cham pion s commander resolved to hold his own, and beat his opponents in the downward trip, or, to use his own expression, "he would never see New Orleans again !" At Marietta, the first halting-place of the boats, the Champion was first to make port and get away. At Bur lington, the Dart was in sight, and the Crescent was close by, as the Champion again wheeled away in gallant style, still leading her excited followers. The thick black smoke that gushed continuously from the tall chimneys of one or other of the rivals, showed plainly to those who were accustomed to travel upon the western rivers, that the engineers and firemen were emphatically busy on board, for, night and day, every hour and every moment of time from the outset, there had been no cessation in their crowding on steam, each, like his rival, firmly resolved to win the race. It is a singularly strange feeling, the sensation that takes possession of the passengers, at such times, on board these too often destruction-bent craft. We have traveled the entire length and breadth of these rivers, in all kinds of convey ances, from the sluggish and tide-moving flat-boat to the twenty-mi le-an-hour steamer, and have seen all sorts of " acci dents" there, from the smash-up at the levee, by cool premed- THE CATASTROPHE. 231 itated collision, to the sinking by snags, and the explosion of boilers, and we never yet met the body of passengers on those waters who, ten minutes after any such catastrophe, were not ready to draw their purses for a subscription-plate to the cap tain, or who would not (or, at least, many of them, amid the excitement) hold down the safety-valve, at the risk of being blown into eternity, rather than a rival should pass them on the water, or "wood up" and get away one minute in advance of the boat they chanced to be on board of. We repeat, it is strange, yet this is truth to the letter. The Champion arrived in safety at the Queen City, Cincin nati, and half an hour afterward the other two boats came puffing up to the levee there, almost side by side. The new steamer was justly the favorite in the race, thus far (if there were any merit in the competition at all), and the passengers and crew were intensely excited as they thus proceeded on, at a break-neck rate, toward the Mississippi River. Some were for continuing straight forward without halting at this regular stopping-place, since they now had got eight or ten miles the start of their rivals, but the captain was obliged to halt here. The three boats got off together again, however, in a brief space of time, and without much loss of steam, though the terrible laboring of the machinery on board the Champion showed with certainty that she was taxed to the last tension of her capacity. Amid the cheering of the rival agents and the numerous friends of the three boats, who crowded the edge of the river, or stood upon the decks of the steamers that lay at the levee, away went the competitors, side and side for a mile or two, 232 THE RAG-PICKER. but the Champion soon showed her two companions her rudder- post, shooting ahead sharply at a short bend in the stream below Cincinnati, leaving the Crescent and Dart emphatically behind in her frothy wake, as she boomed on over the glassy surface of the Ohio, at an eighteen-knot rate, while the dingy stream that rushed from her smoke-pipes gave certain evidence that the price of rosin was of but trifling consequence in the estimation of the Champion s managers ! As the boat approached the first small town on the river s margin, below Cincinnati, the captain stepped to the engine- room. " Give her all she 11 bear, Crawford," he said, in a voice of excitement ; " give it to em to the last moment. They re driving us like devils, but our reputation is at stake, and we must n t be beaten." Then rushing to the firemen, he yelled, " Pitch it in, boys, pitch it in !" And an increased action was quickly afterward discernible in the evolutions of the wheels. The desperate commander hastened to the lever of the safety-valve, that had latterly been trembling up and down, and grasping the arm firmly, he resolved that no steam should be suffered to escape until he was out of sight and sound of the Crescent and the Dart ! Away danced the splendid new steamer, and on came her pursuers, thundering down stream at a fearful rate. There were six hundred souls on board the former emigrants, mer chants, farmers, gentlemen, ladies, and children, four fifths of whom were upon the decks straining their eyes with gazing on the boats behind, and riotous with the thrilling excitement of this anxious occasion. THE CATASTROPHE. 233 It was three o clock in the afternoon. The weather had moderated, and a fine warm day had been enjoyed on board. As they stood oft the town, and were just abreast of its most thickly settled portion, while a hundred people at least ran to the river to witness their progress as the rivals passed by, a tremor shook the foremost steamer for an in stant, the pilot hove her nose shoreward a trifle, that her admirers might have a better view of her performance, and in the next instant a terrific crash succeeded, the decks and sides flew widely upward, five hundred men and women mounted into the air, amid shattered fragments of iron, and wood, and freight, and the Champion rolled in shoreward a mass of burning, smoky, crumbling ruins ! The shouts that rent the air, the frightful groans of the wounded and the dying, the terrible scene of devastation and ruin that filled the water in every direction, once seen, could never be forgotten. CHAPTER XL. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. In storm, and flood, and all decays of time, In hunger, plagues, and man-devouring war; In lazy dreams, that clog each task sublime In loveless doubts of Truth s unsetting star; In all THY Spirit will not cease to brood, With vital strength, unfolding all to good ! STEELING. OF the five hundred (and more) persons who took passage upon this ill-fated boat, less than three hundred were found, and many of these were so burned and scalded, and bruised, that they died soon afterward, on shore.* Young Touey chanced to be standing upon the promenade deck, beside the wheel-house, when the terrific explosion oc curred ; and though as a second-class passenger he had no right to be there (by the rules of the boat), yet, to this clearly Providential circumstance he owed his preservation ; for .not one of the circle with whom he associated on board, during the passage down, and but very few of the other emigrants, reached the shore alive, * In the case of the steamer Moselle, that burst its boiler on the Ohio, a short time after the above narrated accident, some three hundred souls were dashed into eternity, at a moment s warning, through the reck lessness of those who managed, and who perished with her, at the time ! A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 235 When Toney struck the water, a moment after the crash came, he heard a frightful shriek near him, and almost in stantaneously he found himself locked in the frantic embrace of a young female, who besought him to save her. He was a good swimmer, fortunately, as well as a stout, robust fel low, and he quickly passed one arm about the girl s waist, and made for the shore. Had he been never so well inclined to release himself, the task would have been too difficult to accomplish, for the fright ened young lady clung to Toney with an almost certain death-grasp, amid her terror and peril ; and lie swam and struggled shoreward with all his might, lest in the midst of her alarm and distress they should sink together ! The sight from the shore was a terrible one, truly ! The surface of the river, for a quarter of a mile or more, was cov ered with the dead, wounded and dying ! Bales of merchan dize on fire, boxes of goods staved, barrels and casks, broken furniture, fragments of the wreck, and portions of human bodies, floated in all directions the sad remains of the Champion, her passengers, crew, and freight ! Poor Toney having reached the landing in safety with his fair burden, immediately rushed to the rescue of other unfor tunates, and succeeded in saving a score of sufferers. When all was over, he stood upon the Kentucky shore, houseless, almost penniless, and alone, a thousand miles from what he called his home, with no living soul that he knew to turn to for coun sel, or for means with which to go forward, or to return ! " There he is ! That s him this is he, sir !" rang out the voice of a young woman, rushing toward Toney at this mo ment, while the boy was mourning of his loss and his troubled 236 THE RAG-PICKER. prospect, and, turning about to ascertain what this exclama tion meant, he encountered and quickly recognized the girl he had borne from the water, who was clinging to the arm of a strange gentleman, who, like himself and the young lady, was still dripping in his wet clothing, and had evidently been saved from the wreck of the Champion. This gentleman called himself Anthony Brittan, a man of substantial means, and said to be a prominent planter and ag riculturist in the State of Kentucky, who was on his way home from Cincinnati, in company with his ward. The stranger advanced quickly to the young man s side, and thanked him, in good round Kentucky English, for the service he had rendered him in saving his daughter s life. Toney appreciated the gentleman s remarks, and replied : " It was n t so much what I did, sir, as what the young lady accomplished herself. I could n t very well help saving her, if I saved myself, for she fortunately clung to my neck so strongly that I could n t have got away, if I would ! I am happy, indeed, though, to have aided her. / have lost every thing but life," he added ; and then, in his humble way, he told his own story to old Brittan (whose name he had long since forgotten, and whom he had no idea he had ever seen before in his life), and he sympathized with the boy, on ac count of the friendly earnestness that Julie, his ward, evinced in his behalf, more than for the service he had so nobly per formed, or for the destitute condition in which he found him, which the selfish man considered no possible affair of his ! However, he took Toney along with himself and " daugh ter" to the nearest hotel, where the young man subsequently explained himself more fully, and where Brittan learned, for A NfcW ACQUAINTANCE. 237 the iirst time, that he had been brought up on a Connecticut river farm. The grasping Brittan ascertained, upon further conversa tion with him, that the youth was intelligent and well in formed upon general subjects, and he finally invited him to go home with him, where he promised him employment, if he desired it. It was a most acceptable proposition to Toney, who accepted the offer unhesitatingly. The other two boats the Crescent and the Dart came down upon the scene of the wreck, and such was the head way they were under that they did not halt until they were nearly a mile below the town. Both boats let off steam in- stanter, however, and returned to the spot where the ruins and the passengers of their late rival were floating in the water. They afforded all the aid in their power, and finally went on again, earnestly vieing with each other ere they were out of sight of this awful scene in making the port of St. Louis first ! On the evening succeeding the disaster, Brittan turned his steps homeward. Toney accompanied him for the purpose of taking charge of the agricultural portion of his estate, to which a considerable share of Brittan s attention had latterly been turned. The young man soon found although he had serious difficulties to contend with among the slaves on the place that the prospect before him was promising. Old Brittan had never seen this boy but once, and then, it will be remembered, only for a moment, in company with Dolly, who took the two children to his house. lie did not afford the woman the opportunity then to pronounce their names, and he never knew or cared what they were, so that 238 T II K KAG-PICKEK. he suspected nothing in the name or the person of Toney Mettler ! Our pseudo planter was agreeably astonished to find, very soon after Mettler s arrival at Grenville, that the young man had been excellently well educated as an agriculturalist (as most good " Yankee" farmers are, by the way), for he saw that his new foreman took hold of the work in which he had been in previous years so thoroughly drilled, right earnestly, and there was no part of the business that came within his province that he did not fully understand, much better than any one whom Brittan had yet met with in the profession. The live stock of the farm quickly exhibited ample im provement under his care. The crops were judiciously and economically cultivated by him. His success and his indus try were astonishing. The harvests were gathered skillfully, and the farming portion of Brittan s estate got soon to be noted for its peculiarly thrifty and fine appearance in com parison with others in the county. And when winter came, Toney sought out the best markets, far and near, and obtained for the produce of his labors and excellent management the very highest prices invariably. And thus two years passed away from the time when young Mettler (as Toney continued to call himself) was so singularly thrown into the family and the employment of An thony Brittan, his unknown grandfather ! CHAPTER XLI. A DIFFERENCE OK OPIKION. Thou dost speak masterly, Young though thou art ! What kind of man is he ? Why, of ?na-kind. SHAKESFBARK. " WELL, now, yer don t mean to tell me that, Mettler, do yer. Yer don t mean to say that they ain t the best kind o labor in the world ef they re managed right, do yer ?" "You and I won t agree, Mr. Taskem," replied Touey, who had been conversing with the slave-hunter, in reference to the prospects of Brittan s Kentucky estate, for an hour. " You and I can never look at this subject with the same eyes. What I know, I know" continued Toney, firmly, " by practical experience ; and I mean to say that I would n t accept the services of any three of Brittan s hands these poor, grovel - ing, cowered, unambitious, forsaken wretches for one respect able Yankee freeman, for my uses, here." " Cowered ? forsaken ? groveling ?" said Taskem, repeating Toney s words. "Wy, Brittan s got a dozen niggers yere at cost him a thousand dollars apiece ; an they re the best in the State o Kaintucky. / sold em to him, an don t I know what a good nigger is ? There s Nappo " 240 THE UAG-i lCKKH. "Very true Nappo is an exception. Nappo is a gx>od hand." " He s the meanest nigger in the place, an the worst one I ever seen in my life," insisted Taskem. " Ef I could hev af forded to keep him, it would ha done me good to ha hed him where I d a made him buckle to it," responded Taskem, with a rude oath. " Nobody can live with the cuss, no how." " I have found no difficulty whatever with him," insisted Toney, mildly. " He comes and goes at my bidding, cheer fully always, and would lay down his life for me at this mo ment, if such a thing were necessary, I have not a doubt, lie has known the blessings of freedom, temporarily, poor fel low ; and as to his present usefulness here T declare to you in all candor, that I could n t get along at all without Nappo. No man works more diligently, more faithfully early and late than he ; and I deem him the very best man, by all comparison, that Brittan has here to-day !" "Men /" said Taskem, madly ; " what the devil do you call these cattle men, for ? That s wot s ruined the scamp ; and it s wot 11 ruin all the rest on em, ef yer don t mind !" " Situated as I am here, Mr. Taskem," continued Toney, calmly, " I do not go out of my way to offer to any body any of my settled opinions, of course ; nor would I do aught to peril the interests of my employer ; but I find that kind treat ment answers my purposes, and if I can alleviate the hardships of the poor fellows in any way, I do so, sir. And, while I feel right here, Mr. Taskem," added Toney, laying his hand upon his heart, " I knoio that they do better for Brittan, and love me more than if I treated them as if they were merely brutes." " Brutes ? W v, vrhat else bo they but cattle ? Animals A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 241 two-legged animals" insisted Taskem, harshly. "/ never found a nigger yit that kind treatment would break in never /" " Did you ever try it upon any of them i" asked Toney, iu his mildest manner. " Try it ? Wy, hain t I bin mongst niggers for more n forty year ? Hain t I hed all kinds, an don t I know what a nigger is ? Mebby I don t ! Mebby, Mr. Mettler, yer can teach me Ralph Taskem how to manage niggers. But, what I don t know of em ain t worth knowin , I reck n. Yer can t get along without forcin em, I tell yer. An ef yer con tinue to coax and fool with em this way, yer 11 spile every nigger on the place, an ruin Brittan, sure s I now tell yer so." " When Mr. Brittan thinks so, he will undoubtedly apprise rne of it," said Toney. " In the mean time I shall continue to treat all God s creatures kindly, and I shall never forget, not withstanding the position I now occupy, that slave-labor is unprofitable and unnecessary, and that the institution itself is a curse, and a foul blot upon our nation s fame, Mr. Taskem." " Hallo hallo ! Mettler, this won t do !" said Taskem, bristling up. " By Jove, sir, ef this is the way yer talk, yer 11 find it hard work to live yere, do yer mind. It won t do, Mettler !" " It must do, sir, whenever you broach this subject to me. I do not express these opinions where the men the poor slaves can hear me. But before such men as you are a free white man, who can come and go as he will, and to whom God has given intellect and understanding whenever the ap propriate opportunity offers, I shall not omit to express my honest sentiments, be sure of it." 11 242 THE RAG-PICKER. " But, Mettler, it s treason /" "Make the most of it, then," retorted the young man, quickly. " I know where / stand, sir ; and if you don t wish to hear the truth spoken, don t assail me. You now know my opinion on this subject. And as Nappo is corning-, yonder, I have, at present, nothing to add," said Toney, moving away. "Mornin , Massa Mettler," said Nappo, cheerfully, as he hurried up to Toney, with a heavy mule-harness that he had been repairing ; " mornin , sah." " Good morning, Nappo. How is the foot ?" said Toney. " Better, Massa ; e ? en-a-mose well." Nappo had been troubled with lameness in the ankle, lately, from over-exertion upon his old broken limb. " Well, wash it twice or three times a day with the liniment I gave you, Nappo ; and don t work too hard, nor run around too much until it gets strong again. You 11 soon come on again, if you take care of it." "Tank you, massa. I se gwine ober to de cabin a little wile, ef you did n t want me jess now." " Yes, go go, Nappo, and take care of your lame foot. I shall want you, by and by." Nappo had got to love Mettler as if he were a brother, or a dear good friend ; and he was the first white man he had ever yet met with, south of the line of freedom, who had treated him well. But Nappo only knew him as his " master," under Brittan, and he served him with hearty good will, at all times, and in all possible ways. Julie Manning had grown to be as beautiful a girl as Ken tucky could then boast of, and in her sphere she was deeply beloved by those who surrounded her. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 243 Young Mettler was a handsome, round-faced, fair-skinned youth, of gentle address and manners, and Brittan took him into his family, immediately upon his arrival at Greenville. From the hour that he came there, Julie secretly loved him ! And though this result might be deemed singular, it was nevertheless true. And Julie contrived, after a while, to let Toney know that she favored him, though she took care that Brittau should not be apprised of her feelings, by any means. At first the youth was dull of comprehension regarding the beauty s intents and disposition toward him. But, as he grew older, and became better acquainted with the habits and the feelings of Julie, and saw how earnestly and seriously she con trived to interest him, and to render his new home happy, he began to permit the light to enter into his hitherto dull brain, and to discover that the fair " daughter" of his employer whose life he had accidentally saved was sincerely devoted to him ! And then he responded to her hopes. And secretly gave her love for love, with all the fervor of a fresh and honest and confiding heart. After another year or two, during which time they were constantly together, the happy pair had come to a most excel lent good understanding though no one had reason to sus pect what was transpiring, so shrewdly and so silently had all the little plans of the lovers been managed, from the very beginning. CHAPTER XLII. THE RECOGNITION. We two were pretty babes. The time has been "We two did love cacb otber s company; Time was, we two had wept to have been apart. CHARLES LAMB. THE traveler who cliauces to find himself in the vicinity of E , a pretty and thriving town located in one of the south westerly counties of the State of New York, as he lingers along upon the side road running parallel with the main avenue leading to to the village, may halt a moment to admire one of Jhe most picturesque and lovely spots in the country. At a sharp angle by the roadside may be seen oozing from a crevice between two high rocks a thread of silvery water, that dashes down the craggy and moss-grown steep, from an elevation of full sixty feet, forming one of the prettiest and liveliest cascades ever met with such an one as Doughty would have thrown into the middle distance of one of his de lightful landscapes with splendid effect, and which the lover of nature could not pass by without lingering to admire. At the base of the bluff over which this brooklet gushes, there runs out to the eastward a long narrow strip of level lawn, bright and green, through which the stream meanders plowly, enlarging as it goes, and furnishing the water to carry THE RECOGNITION. 245 a small mill in the vale beyond. Clumps of trees ornament the vicinity, rocks, covered with vines, line the road, and altogether the place has an air of romance not at all common in that region. A few rods distant from the spot where the sparkling waters fall at the foot of the sharp promontory, there stood, some years ago, a diminutive one-story building, which might have been taken for a shop, or, possibly, a dwelling, though it was very small, and was built of wood. It stood endwise to the road, and seemingly was too limited in dimensions to be intended as a habitation for human beings in that country ; but one does not know in how small a space he can live until one is compelled to try experiments in this way ! A young man was on his way from the shire-town to the village spoken of, one morning, and as he came out suddenly upon this lovely spot, he reined up his horse for a moment to admire it. He moved on slowly down the ravine road, won dering what the little building could possibly be intended for, when a head emerged from out the low front window, and he observed that the outer door was open. This head, as it subsequently proved, belonged to a man of pleasant and affable manners, who appeared to be some sixty- five or seventy years old. As the traveler arrived opposite his window, he raised his eyes, nodded, and said " How d ye do ?" The youth halted, for he was not in haste, and responded " A charming little place you have here." The old man laid down some tools he had been busily oc cupied with at work, and came to the open door-way. 246 THE RAG-PICKER. " Won t you stop ?" he said, smilingly. The young man had nothing to stop for particularly, though he was in no hurry to go on, but he was inter ested in the scene, and he replied, " Thank you ;" and very soon had hitched his pony by the low gate. He was surprised, upon entering the little building, to find it so spacious. The front door opened at once into the work shop of this man, and it occupied the whole size of the build ing facing the road. He proved to be an Englishman, and his occupation was that of a theodolite maker. His imple ments and materials were of the very nicest quality, and he had several partially-finished instruments about his room, which, from their exquisite workmanship and nice compo sition, showed at the first glance that the old man was an adept in his vocation. His extensive assortment of choice tools, too, so neatly arranged and carefully bestowed around his benches, gave evidence that he prided himself on his skill ; and, Yanke e- like, the first thought that suggested itself to the stranger s mind, under the circumstances, was, where the old man ob tained the capital to carry on this plainly expensive trade for he knew that these instruments, when well finished, were very valuable, and costly in their manufacture. He asked sundry questions, that might have been considered impertinent, perhaps, had he not found his entertainer to be voluntarily communicative, but to which the good-natured old fellow gave him prompt answers continually, though he kept sharp at work all the while. He suggested, at length, that this profession was not a common occupation in this country. And the artisan said THE RECOGNITION. 247 " No ; though you have some very good workmen in this line in your cities." " Do they compete with you much ?" he asked. " Not at all. I have a constantly ready sale for all I can make." " Your materials are expensive ?" " Yes. And you wonder where a poor man like me, iso lated here, and altogether unknown, finds the means to carry on such a trade eh ?" said the artisan, looking up at his guest, pleasantly, He acknowledged his curiosity on this point, and the old man immediately added " Sit, sir sit ; and I will tell you something, perhaps, that shall entertain you, if you are not in haste eh f The youth (whom the old man had not a suspicion he knew) accepted the artisan s offer, and the latter went into a little room at the back of the shop, from whence he quickly re turned again, bearing a waiter in his hands, upon which were a clean stone jug of cold well-water, a generous dish of white biscuit, and a round of Dutch cheese. Pointing to the fare, he said " I am an Englishman by birth, but I have been in this country now more n forty year. I have n t been always what you see me now, and this place I bought only a few years since. When I came here, I paid down for three-and-twenty acres here running below the brook and falls yonder, forty- six pounds sterling, that is to say, rising two hundred dollars. It was my whole fort n, except my tools, then. There was no railroads when I came out here. Now, the cars run by, within sight and sound of my window over fifty trains daily, sir !" 248 THE RAG-PICKER. " Something of a change," suggested the young man. " Yes ; but I don t enter the cars often. I don t like them," continued the old man. " I came here and pitched my tent, a considerable time since, here I ve remained, always at work as you see, and here I shall die at last, probably." " And here you dwell, all alone, I suppose, and enjoy lite as well as we do who are in constant communication with the busier world ?" queried the stranger. " Alone !" exclaimed the old man ; " oh, no ! I m not alone. I ve no family but my little daughter ; but I Ve always companions in plenty the birds, the bees, my little dog, and old puss, yonder ; and though I don t get rich, I m always happy now, and we get enough for our comforts and needs. I did n t ask your name, sir," said the old man, at this moment, halting suddenly in the midst of his story. " Mettler, sir Toney Mettler." " Mettler, Mettler ?" repeated the artisan. "Toney Mettler, did you say?" "Yes, sir." The old man was puzzled. He was sure he had seen this young person before, but he did not know this name. But he continued. " I say I was not always what you now see me. I moved in an humbler sphere for a long time after I came to this country. But by study, and labor, and God s blessing, I ob tained the information I now possess, and the means to carry on my little trade. I had wandered about the earth for years and years, and had no children, no family to cave for or to care for me, and, at last, I took a little foundling from the streets, and left niy unsuccessful home to try a new one. THE RECOGNITION. 249 " I came here, at length, as I have told you. I purchased this spot with the bulk of what money I had left, and here I sat down to earn my living, and support and educate my little one (who has now grown up to be a woman, almost), and here we are happy and contented." "Who is that?" exclaimed the young stranger, suddenly rising, as the merry voice of a female was heard near the door. " That s her that s my bird. That s my little singer. She always sings always sung, ever since I knew her. But for her sweet voice I should long ago have sunk beneath the misfortunes that surrounded us. But she never desponded never stopped singing. "When the clouds were darkest she sang the loudest. But here she is my darling Carrie, sir !" And, at the word, Carrie Ellson sprang carelessly in at old Davy s little shop door ! Without a word of explanation, as old Davy approached to greet his little charge, who had just returned from the village, the stranger caught her in his arms, and, kissing her again and ao-ain, he exclaimed O " Carrie dear Carrie don t you remember me ?" The guest was her brother, Toney, who was on his way to the village of E , upon business. The old man haa already been introduced to the reader. CHAPTER XLIII. A U L D LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? OLD Soxo. OLD Davy did not interfere as the brother and sister recog nized each other, almost at the same moment, though they had been separated for so many years, and each had grown up almost to maturity. Toney was quite a man, and little Carrie was now a young lady grown ! " But how is your name Mettler, Toney ?" asked Davy, at last. Toney explained to them why and when he had adopted this name, and how he supposed that he should never again see or hear from any one at home that would care for him. His master proved kind to him, and he had no choice. They had called him " Mettler s boy" at first, and so they readily came to call him Mettler, and he adopted it, without caring so much what name he went by so that it was always kept unsullied and honorable. And great indeed was the joy of the brother and sister thus to meet under such happy circumstances. Toney plied AULD LANG SYNE. 251 old Davy and Carrie with a thousand questions as to the past, and he thus learned of all the troubles and privations they had undergone to arrive at their present evident prosperity and happy condition. The brother then related his experience from the time the children had been separated at Mr. Meeker s house, omitting to rehearse no portion of his past foibles and follies, and bringing his history down to that hour. He had business with a factor at the town of E , whither he was then bound, and as soon as this was concluded he promised to return to them and confer with them at length in regard to the future. After two hours absence at the village, Toney came back again and seated himself with his early friends, to talk of " auld lang syne." " And you say, Toney, that you did n t know Davy, here ?" asked Came, astonished. " No, I did not. He is changed his hair is whiter his features have altered (though I see him now clearly enough, and well remember his looks), and his garb is greatly im proved. I knew him only as the old rag-picker, you re member, and it is n t strange, I think, Davy, that I should not have recognized you at first, eh ?" " Not at all, Toney. But I knew you, I thought, from the first moment you fivirly entered the house. And when you mentioned Tonetfs name, though I knew no Mettler, I was sure of you." " A farmer, hey ?" said Carrie, pleasantly. " But how long have you dwelt in Kentucky ?" she continued. " Several years, Came. 1 252 THE RAO-PICKEH. " That s where the poor slaves live, is n t it ? You don t live with them, do you ?" " Yes ; I have been on a plantation there since I first en tered the State." " You ?" exclaimed Carrie, in surprise. " Yes, sister, even /." " What ! where they choke and drown and burn up the poor negroes ?" " Well, not quite so bad as that." " They cut them to pieces, though, don t they ? And beat them, and chain big logs to their feet so they can t go away, and starve them, and all that, don t they ? I ve read and heard so, I m sure, a hundred times." " Well, I have never witnessed any such cruelty." " Then you were n t among em much." " Yes, I have been with them constantly for several years. There are many exceptions to the rule of kind treatment to ward them, but they are not so brutal where I have dwelt," said Toney. " Well, I would n t live Avhere there was a slave for all the world !" said Carrie, innocently. " It s a cruel thing, any way, and I hope you 11 leave that business, .right away. AVou t you, Toney ? AVon t you come and live with us me and Davy ? Say, won t you ?" The subject was dropped, and the two children talked of other matters of mother and father, and their former home ; but neither of them knew any thing in reference to their pa rents. Carrie knew and remembered of Dolly s death, but her recollections of much else wore indistinct. AULD LANG SYNE. 253 Davy permitted them to do all the talking, but lie was greatly delighted to see them both so happy. After a lengthy interview, Toney informed his newly-found friends that he should be obliged to return to Greenville, but now that he knew of their whereabouts, he should come back again very soon, and fix upon a residence nearer to them where they could be often together for he had long since become weary of his present situation. Toney had saved several hundred dollars from his earnings in the past few years, for his pay had been prompt and gen erous in Brittan s employ, and he determined now to leave Kentucky at an early day. And finally he started again for Greenville, Avith the prom ise to Davy and Carrie that he would resume his own proper name forthwith, and return to see them within a few weeks at furthest. With a bounding heart he journeyed back to Kentucky, where he had temporarily left his charming Julie, deeply thankful for the lucky chance that had thus brought him upon the track of his long lost sister. After fifteen days absence from his post he arrived again at Brittan s house. CHAPTER XLIV. NAPPO AND TONEY. For I know thou rt full of love and honesty, And weigh st thy words before thou giv st them breath; Therefore, these stops of thine fright me the more ! Men should l>e what they seem. OTHELLO. " WELL, it s my pinion, that the sooner yer git red of him the better it 11 be fer the place, and fer the hands. The nig gers is got so sassy at it ain t safe for a man to be yere. I sware to yer, Britt n, I think jess what I say, now. As to Nappo, I donuo what yer 11 do with him. / don t want him. Mettler s spi lt him fer my market." "You re right, Taskern. I ve seen all this for a good while," replied Brittan. " I did n t want to send Mettler off, for I saw long ago that he was discontented with his position, and I hoped he would go voluntarily. He s a good man, the farm looks finely, and I ve no doubt I shall miss him in that way for I never saw his equal in America. But " Fudge ! Beck s worth a heap o sech fellers. I know what Beck is. I did n t recommend him to yer as I did, thout knowin him, clean through. Give him charge yere, and the niggers 11 dance to a new tune. Let Mettler go. He 11 spile every nigger yer ve got, an I would n t give a picayune fer some uv Vm, as it is !" said Taskem, angrily. NAPPO AND TONEY. 255 In this vein the two friends had been conversing for an hour. Mettler was away, and he was expected back to Green ville that day. Brittan was alarmed. Taskem had contrived so to insinuate himself into his good graces, that the slave- driver s opinion despite his real ignorance of ought save his heartless vacation had long since come to be law to the Englishman. And Taskem held him, measurably, within his power, for good or ill, in a pecuniary view. He had stocked his estate with unsaleable and inferior ne groes ; some of them utterly worthless (even as slaves), and Brittan had paid him the most exorbitant prices for this "property," which for years had been depreciating in market able value, on his hands, because ho knew nothing whatever of the business he had so recklessly engaged in, and had sud denly found that the enterprise was proving disastrous to him in every way ! His entire means, including Julie s patrimony, were invested in his plantation. The tobacco he had raised for the previous four years, scarcely netted him one half its prime cost. Taskem had forced upon him two or three dozen slaves who had been raised upon rice and sugar plantations, who knew nothing whatever of cultivating and curing tobacco, and who were too old and too lazy to learn any thing new, notwith standing the goadings and scourgings and beatings adminis tered by the overseer Beck, whom Taskem had also provided him with ; and who was an unprincipled, miserable ruffian, at best, possessing no qualifications for the place he undertook to fill on Brittan s estate. The cattle and swine and horses (under Toney s charge), were in excellent rondition, and the corn-fields that spread far 256 THE KAG-PICKER. away upon the south-westerly portion of the estate, and which had always been the pride of Mettler, showed what could be effected by skillful cultivation, even in that country. But the outgoes of Brittan were enormous. He lived extravagantly and loosely, and the chances were clearly against him. His receipts did not come up to the expenditures of his es tablishment by a very considerable amount, annually, and he very soon became involved by means of his carelessness, his love of hunting and horse-racing (where he was seldom a winner), his wine-drinking and carousing, at home and abroad, and the general recklessness that finally characterized his entire course of life, in the midst of which he " took no thought for the morrow," but left every thing in the hands of those whom he employed. To the last moment Toney held out, however, and toiled with all his might to earn and save in his department of the estate. But the task was too great. The profits of his enter prise and labors and management only went to sustain, for a time, the drawbacks and sacrifices upon the other portions of the plantation ; and he became heartily sick and weary of the work before him. But for his Julie he would long before have retired ; and when he finally hinted to her his intentions in secret, which he eventually resolved upon, firmly, her dis tress was very great for life would be but a dreary blank to her, amid the associations with which she found herself sur rounded, if her lover left the place he occupied. But, though Toney had determined upon leaving Greenville, he had not the slightest idea of leaving Julie behind him as we shall see anon ! Tonev arrived again at Greenville. Brittan received him NAPPO AND TONEY. 257 with marked coldness, but lie did not seem to notice this, though he felt sure that Taskem had been at work again with his employer during his late absence. Nappo informed him that the slave-hunter had been up, " to bring a yaller gal for Missy Julie." " Glad you cum back, Massa Mettler," said Nappo, grate fully, as he saw Toney. " Dre ful glad you cum again. Hope you no go way no more." Toney said, " You ve been a good boy, Nappo, have n t you, since Heft?" " Oh yes, massa, I good boy now. I good to him, cause I know you come ag in, an I would n t be long wid him ;" said Nappo, alluding to Beck! " Does n t he treat you all well ?" asked Toney. " Wh-e-w !" responded Nappo ; and then a low, bitter chuckle half grin and half scorn escaped him, in answer to what he deemed so absurd a query. Dat Taskem, massa," said Nappo, at length. They were alone together in the great stable, and Nappo seemed desirous to talk to Toney, who always listened to him when he had leisure. " Dat Taskem, Massa Mettler, does you know him ?" " I have seen him here, only." "Doesn t you know him ?" asked Nappo again, " No, not particularly. Why, Nappo ?" " Well, Taskem s big villain, sart n. De debble 11 hab de grineing ob his bones one dese days, I tinlc, Massa Mettler." " He is no friend of yours, I know, Nappo. But you must not harbor any such evil feelings against any one. That is wrong and useless. Don t you remember that we are bidder* 258 THE RAG-PICKER. to love our enemies, to do good to them that hate us, and pray for those who persecute us ?" " Lub em ? Lub him Taskem ?" exclaimed Nappo in as tonishment. " We should love every body, Nappo, and be kind to every one, and never suffer our wrongs, though never so grievous, to impel us to commit the sin of even hoping for revenge for them." Nappo was thoughtful, and finally said : " Dat de way you allers does, Massa Mettler ?" " I should endeavor so to do." " Allers, massa ?" insisted Nappo. " Yes, always. At least, such would be my duty and the requirements in God s laws. When you were in New Eng land you often heard of this doctrine, did n t you, Nappo ?" " I heer good deal, Massa Mettler, dat go fuss in ere, and den out ere /" said Nappo, placing his finger dexterously first to one ear and then to the other. " But I see good deal, too, massa, and I feel good deal more dan boff togedder ; an ef dat Taskem don t go whar dey whip em an whale em an mash dar toof for em, one dese fine nights, den I don t b leeb nuff n ner nobuddy dass a fack an Massa Britt n, too !" Nappo had quoted Scripture as nearly as the poor fellow could remember the passage relating to the " weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth." " You re hard on them, Nappo, and you must strive to overcome these bitter feelings," replied Toney. " Hard on em ! Wot dey do fer me ? Was n t it hard on me dat dem two men sh ud trap me an sen me way to Ala- bamer fer nuth n, on y cause Taskem swear in de court dat I steal his mudder s air-rings ? An could n t Massa Britt n NAPPO AND TONEY. 259 hab sabed me from de slave-hunter ef lie bin min to ? An he did n t ! He help Taskem all de time ; an he wuss n Taskem, dam site, too, cause he kill he own darter in Bosson, and murder her to deff and starve her arterwa ds poor Missy Annie," concluded Nappo. " Who did you say ?" exclaimed Toney, suddenly catching at the negro s final words. " Massa Britt n dat s what I say." " Yes, but his daughter, Nappo. What is that you said about her ?" " I say Missy Annie, Dat s my young missus his darter in Bosson. De bess missy I eber seen, an the beautifullest. He starve her to death, and kill her, for sart n, same s he allers sware he would. An den he run way from Mass shusetts, an come down ere wid Taskem. An de place ere gwine to de debble, now, an I m glad ob it." A new light now broke in upon Toney s brain. He re membered his mother s maiden name, but he had forgotten (if he ever knew) what was his father s name. He had never seen Nappo at home, and knew nothing of his early history until the negro now touched upon it thus casually. He took him away, far down in the corn-fields directly, half .a mile from the house. And there he questioned him thoroughly regarding Brittan s former career. And when he got through with him he was satisfied, for the first time, that Anthony Brittan was his own grandfather ! " You are certain of all this, Nappo ? You are not making up this story to deceive me, are you ?" " No, Massa Mettler ! I don t lie to you. I be no casion to lie to you. I tell you de troof, fore God. Dat Massa 260 THE RAG-PICKER. Britt n s de biggest vill n ob de two, and Taskem s bad nuff, de Lord knows." " How long did you live with. Master Brittan in Boston, Nappo f " " Ober tirteen year, sah, an I know him all ober. Missy Annie run way cause her farder would n t let her see de gem- pieman she like. So she jess call de carriage one night, w en de massa wus gone a fiff n, an run off wid young Massa El lison, an many him ! an sarb de ole cuss jess right, too hollo ! Massa Mettler, wot debble de matter wid yer ?" ex claimed Nappo, as he observed that Toney s face suddenly blanched, and his whole frame quivered as if some terrible sensation had shocked him. " Wot s de matter, massa ? Sick eh ?" Toney rallied in a moment, and replied : "Nothing, Nappo, nothing at present. I m better now. Go to your work. And, Nappo " " Yis, sah." " Don t mention this subject again to any living being, will you ?" " No, sah no." Nappo was surprised, but he knew nothing of the real ef fect which his narrative had thus produced. He went about his work slowly and thoughtfully, and left Toney standing amazed, confounded, fearfully confused, in the midst of his bitter thoughts ! He had long since made himself acquainted with his Julie s history, and he knew that she was but the adopted child of old Brittan. As soon as Nappo mentioned the name of Mas- N A 1 P O A N D T O K K V . 261 sa Ellison (as he called Touey s father), he saw at a glance how he was surely related to Brittan. Nappo knew sufficient of the affair between Miss Annie and her husband to link the matter connectedly together, so that Toney had no sort of doubt of his position, and he set about concluding his arrangements for quitting Brittan s service at the earliest practicable moment. Thus while Brittan was contriving, under Taskem s secret advice, to bring about a rupture in some way that would lead to Toney s voluntary retirement, Toney himself, all unconscious of Brittan s disposition in the matter, was completing his own arrangements for leaving Greenville forever. CHAPTER XLV. A STRUGGLE FOR L I F . Grant us, oh God! but health and heart, And strength to keep desire at bay; And ours must bo the better part, Whatever else besets our way. MILNES. IT was a hard thing for Ileniy Ellson to commence once more at the foot of the ladder ! When Mr. Meeker said to him, after he returned to that excellent man s house with his wife, " Ellson, you will find that you must stoop a little for a while," the humbled peni tent replied, " My dear friend, I owe you every thing every thing. Rest assured that I am ready and willing to accept any employment whatever, any where, that may turn up. Place me where I can earn a subsistence for myself and wife, and I promise you I shall not flinch from duty, now !" And he was as good as his word. Through the aid of Mr. Meeker he shortly obtained a situation as under-clerk in an extensive wholesale house on one of the wharfs, and for his services he was to receive the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars a year. This was called liberal on the part of his em ployers. He had a wife to support, too ! He was an honest man, as A 8TEUGGLE FOR LIFE. 263 well, and could n t steal to save himself from starvation. But " two hundred and fifty dollars was a great deal of money, more than a hod-carrier or a sweep could earn in a year, and they always had wives, and children, too, to support. They lived and why could n t Ellson, to be sure ?" said his master. He could. And he did ! Ellson worked like a slave morning, noon, and night And Annie labored, too ; labored hard all the time, and cheer fully, with her needle. She went to the clothing establish ments, and procured garments to make up, as she had done a hundred times before (for Henry had no leisure to call for and return her work), and she received her pennies for cheap shirts, or her shillings for cheap vests, and earned, sometimes, almost two dollars in a single week ! Here was a fortune for a poor woman. Nearly two dollars a week all for one person ! " Good God !" exclaimed her employers, " what can these people do with all their money ! There s a woman, now, we re paying two dollars regularly every week to, and some times more than that ; and the young girl with the blue rib bon, that s just gone out, she earns over three dollars a week, some weeks. And yet they complain that we don t pay em enough the ungrateful cubs !" But Annie did n t complain. She had nothing to complain about now ! She took her work, and went and came, and pocketed the miserable stipend allowed her without a mur mur. Her husband had reformed. Henry no longer touched the poisonous bowl. This was sufficient for her ! And she thanked God, and labored joyfully. And Henrv never faltered or murmured, either. Whv 264 THE R.AG-PICKER. should he ? Was n t he in the enjoyment of two hundred and fifty dollars a year ! Which was over sixty dollars every quarter, and upwards of twenty dollars, in clean money, for every month s service ! Almost Jive dollars a week, for toil ing, and running, and sweating, and fretting, from early morn ing to midnight, during six whole days. It was excellent pay, thought his employers ; and he ought to be very thankful that he could get such a place, with so liberal a compensation. And so he was. He, too, thanked the kind Father who thus provided him with the means to live by fo* he was faithful, and very humble now, and could have got along on something less, no doubt. And still poor Annie plied her needle vigorously. And though her fingers had become tender and delicate, from long disuse, yet she never ceased to " stitch, stitch, stitch !" And when one shirt was finished, there was another lying upon the little low stool, all ready to go on with again. Why should she stop ? What had she to stop for ? They were waiting for them at the store. And when she had completed all that great bundle, she could just carry them back, and get another just like it, at the same price ! Plenty of Avork nobody need starve who was willing to labor. And Annie ivas willing ! It was "Band, arid gusset, and seam Seam, and gusset, and band ; Till the heart grew sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand !" But in her case, no one knew how the tender wife toiled on, and none ever heard one moan escape her for she knew what she toiled for, and her Father in Heaven sustained her ! A STRUGGLE FOH LIFE. 265 They had taken two rooms iu a small house, at the extreme end of Front street, near the water the best they could get for nine shillings a week. The house was located over two miles from Ellson s place of business, and he was obliged to walk there and back four times daily, to obtain his meals and to accomplish his store duties. Eight miles a day ! What of that I Did n t he get seventy cents for it? Suppose he did have to run round the city, from morning till night, carrying bills and parcels and col lecting accounts. It was good exercise for him. Somebody must do it why not he ? That was what he was paid for doing. And the poor man did it, gladly ! What if the young men in the store did laugh as his short- waisted coat, and his shorter-legged pants ! He might have once been a "gentleman," too. And perhaps he would be again. He kept straight on on ! nor turned to the right or the left ; and, by harsh economy and frugality, he finally be gan to see daylight once more. He was naturally pleasant in his intercourse with every one, and, when Ellson was himself, few men appeared to better ad vantage in society. His fault was known, however, and he was employed (ostensibly) out of charity. But he submitted, without retort invariably, to abuse or contumely, and struggled forward, relying upon God s grace to support him amid the ordeal through which he was passing, and from which he hoped to emerge in triumph at last. Annie watched the course of Henry with a watchful eye, and she saw how diligently he labored, and how ardently he strove to stand up amid his poverty and toil ; and though she 32 266 THE RAG-PICKER. needed relaxation much more than he did, she never tarried to think of herself. "Don t hurry so, Henry take time to eat" and "Now, Henry, go to bed, and leave the papers and books till to morrow," she would say, as Ellson came home late at night, gulped down his evening meal, and worried away at the petty accounts given him to look after, at his leisure ! But there was "no rest for the sole of his foot." From Monday morning till Saturday night, from month to month, and from year to year, his present prospect was the same : run, run, run write, write, write work, work, work ! "With head and hands awearied and sore, Amid anguish, and doubting, and fear, He did all this and what was it for? Why, two hundred and fifty a year! CHAPTER XLVI. A DEBT OF HONOR SETTLED. If I can catcli him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. SHTLOCK. ANNIE never yielded, and her health held out amazingly. Perhaps, dining the long years that she had passed within the confines of the Asylum, she had gained, or laid up, a store of strength against this trying day. Of that none knew savt Him who in His mercy "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and " giveth strength to the feeble who put their trust in Him." His lynx-eyed creditor saw that he was alive one day, and had on a clean shirt ! It was a cheap one, to be sure, but he had a wife at home, who had nothing else to do but to take care of his clothes, and thus he accounted for Ellson s changed appearance, suddenly. He wanted his money. Any man who can wear a clean shirt, can pay his debts, of course. " Ellson," he said, " I Ve been lenient, and I can t wait any longer on you. You must pay that old bill." " I m doing my best, just now," said Ellsou, " to live and keep free from new debts ; and I find it hard work, too." "Well, I must have it, nevertheless, or 268 T H E R A - P I C K E K . " I will do what I can for you in a little time. My salary is but two hundred and fifty dollars a year, and my expenses are" " The devil ! Two hundred and fifty dollars !" exclaimed his creditor. " Why, what on earth can you do with so much money ?" " My rent," said Ellson, u is seventy-five dollars a year ; fuel costs me twenty-five ; my bills for lights, and grocer, and baker, and, occasionally, the butcher, come to three dollars a week, and that s a hundred and fifty more ; this eats up my salary. Then I must have some clothing, and my wife needs a few garments once in a while. I don t have a large amount left, Mr. Grabum, out of two hundred and fifty dollars a ye.ar, you see. But I will see. My salary falls due a quarter s pay on Saturday. I will then give you half your old bill, and the balance I will discharge as soon as I can, by any pos sibility and get bread to eat, meantime." " You say it s due Saturday next ?" " Yes, sir." The two men parted. It was then Thursday afternoon. Ellson had a few little bills that had been running along for the current quarter, with his grocer and others (who had given him credit upon the strength of Mr. Meeker s recom mendation), and which he had thus far paid up promptly, as often as he got his salary. At the end of the week he in tended to liquidate all\hese little accounts, as usual, and to begin anew again on Monday. On Friday morning, his quarter s salary of sixty-two and a half dollars was trusteed in his employer s hands, at the suit of Mr. Grabum, the creditor whom lie had met the day pre- A DEBT OF IIONOK SETTLED. 269 viously, and who had thus taken "Time by the forelock" to secure his unsatisfied judgment. The debt and costs amounted to over fifty dollars ; and this unfeeling wretch who could well have waited a few days longer, or have done without the demand altogether, without injury seized Ellson s money, and left him to manage his " new bills" as best he might. It chanced that Annie had saved something from her indi vidual earnings, however ; and, with a little straining and extra economy during the succeeding few weeks, they got along though thus thrown back sadly, for a while. But energy, perseverance, and a reliance on Providence, will accomplish more in adversity than most of us are aware of, who have never been put to the trial. Henry was sad for a few hours, but his wife cheered him up, and he soon got the better of his ill feeling at this really heartless operation. " I in glad he s got his money, at any rate," said Ellson, at length. " That affair is off my mind at all events. It was his just due, I know, but he might have been a little more merci ful. I pray that Grabum may never find himself as poor as I am to-night. If he should, he 11 know how sweet it is to be thus treated, if he is unluckily in debt at the same time !" " It is just as well, Henry. The debt is cancelled and out of the way. Now we 11 begin again" said Annie, cheerfully. Annie kissed his " good angel," as he called Annie, now, and the affair of the judgment was &>on forgotten. The old debt had been paid in full, and the Ellson s struggled on again hopefully but wearily, for over two long years. They had never yet been able to ascertain what had become of their children, though they continued to seek diligently and 2*70 T II ERA G -PICKER. constantly for them, or for some one who might possibly have heard of them. But Dolly was dead, Sarah Barns had dis appeared, Annie s father had gone South (she so learned), and nothing was heard of or from them. In the mean while Toney was at Greenville, getting ready to leave that place, and Carrie was happy and contented in the society of old Davy, who had settled down permanently at the spot where Toney had lately chanced to fall upon him, near the village of E . The affairs of Brittan were daily growing worse and worse. His losses had been larger than he had any idea of, and his gambling horse-racing obligations had devoured several thou sands of dollars of his ready funds. Taskem kept a watchful eye upon Avhat was transpiring, and spent much of his time, latterly, at Brittan a house, where he had recently arrived with a brace of slaves, fresh from Missouri ; and where he was engaged, just at present, in a somewhat important negotiation with old Brittan. Nappo and Toney had had several secret interviews to gether, since the first information had been dropped in refer ence to Brittan s early history, and an explosion was in pro spective at the Greenville plantation and not far distant ! CHAPTER XLVII. THE TWO QUADROONS. " Oh ! they were fair, and beautiful To look upon that loving, humble twain. I saw them sisters when the bloom of health And beauty graced their cheeks ; and, trust me, They were passing fair." " I DON T want but one of em, you see, Taskem. One of em I can do very well with," said Brittan. " Miss Julie d like the other, then, I presume," replied the slave-trader, significantly. " I Ve bought both ov em, an I made no doubt yer d jump at em, soon s you seen em. They re the two pertiest yaller gals I ve come across this five year, an I can put em to yer cheap, cause the owner had to sell out. The two 11 cost yer little risin four thousand dollars, and they re wuth that to look at. One on em s got <i child six year old, too, an that s throw d in. She s a leetle high strung, but Beck 11 manage her, an the young un." " And the boy ?" " Yes ; he s a rosy-cheeked little feller, bright s a new button, and as white well, as white as any buddy. The mother s on y quarter-blood, yer see." " Where are they now ?" 272 THE BAG- PICKER. " In quod. I 11 fetch em," said Taskenv And an hour afterward the slave-catcher produced the two women and the child at Brittan s residence. They were quadroons, and sisters. The owner of them had been what is termed a humane master. That is, he had but a few slaves, and these two he had brought up from infancy. They came originally from Louisiana. The master settled in Missouri, and, as they were remarkably handsome girls, he permitted them to grow up under his own guardianship, for his own reasons ! When ISTora (the eldest) came to be sixteen years old she gave birth to the boy she now had with her. The child would scarcely be suspected of having a drop of negro blood in his veins, so fair was his skin, and so perfect were his handsomely-formed features. Who the father of the child was did not transpire, and nobody seemed to care for this trifling circumstance. Nora Jcncio who his mother was, and that was sufficient for her ! The youngest of the girls was about eighteen, and a beautiful creature she was, too. These three j$Tora, Katty, and Buff (the boy) were the last that remained in the finally bankrupt Missourian s possession. Taskem bought them together, and brought them to Green ville to sell to Brittan. The moment that the old Englishman set his eyes on them, he called Taskem into a side room, and, notwithstanding his years and experience, he said : " Taskem, you re a good judge a capital judge. How much did you say ?" " Forty-three hunder d dollars." " For the three ? n " Yes." THE TWO QUADROONS. 2*73 " But, I a that is that is the boy. That brat I don t want, you see, no how. His mother s a beauty. / want her. I s poze it s his mother ?" " Yes yes." " Well, I want her, but the brat must go away. I 11 pay you I 11 give you your price forty-three hundred but you 11 take the boy away, won t you ? And sell him sell him, Task- em, and account to me some other time. That s it. But he must n t stay here at all ; he s too white too white a damn sight, you see ! It won t do. And besides, I don t want no in- curnbrauces with her, y ou see. Un stand ?" " Edzackly. / onderstand, old boy. I see I see " " Well, then, you 11 take him off with you ?" " Yes." " And I m to give you forty-three hundred dollars ?" " Yes." " And you sell the boy, and " " Yes, edzackly s all right. I see." " Very well. I have n t the money just now. I Ve got to raise a five thousand mortgage on the place to get through the season with till the crops come in again, and I ll make it eight thousand, you see, so s you can have the ready in a few weeks. Give me a bill o sale of em at forty-three hun dred, you know, and they re mine." " All right," said Taskem ; " yere it is, an yer can give me yer note on demand, yer see, an that 11 fix it all correct tween us." This being concluded the papers were duly passed, and the two men returned to the room where the women and the boy had been left Taskem to give them what he was pleased in 12* 2*74 THE RAG-PICK EH. his facetiousness to term " a friendly lectur at partin ," and Brittan to take possession of his handsome " property." "Now, gals," said the amiable Mr. Ralph Taskcm, of Ten nessee, " I ve brought ycr to yer new home here, in Kain- tucky, and this is yer new marster, Mr. Brittan, who treats all his niggers fust rate, allers, ef they b haves well, and does n t give him no sarce, nor put on no airs. He s a mild man, an a good un, when he has n t no reason to be other- ways ; an I ve told him all about yer, an what yer ken both do. Yer 11 be kep in the house, yere, he says, and he won t put no hard labor onto nyther ov yer, ef yere quiet, an don t give him no trouble. Ef yer do, he an Beck 11 see at yer come to yer milk agin, straitways, do yer mind. Yer know Beck, Nora, don t yer ?" The girl did not reply, but tossed her head and smiled at her sister, who stood close to her side. " I thought yer d member Beck," continued Taskein, with a leer toward Brittan ; " he knows both on yer, like a book. So, steady now ! an there 11 be no trouble." With this friendly advice, which seemed to have had about as much weight with the two girls as if it had been addressed to the old oaken chimney-piece, Mr. Ralph Taskem bowed himself out as the side door opened, and Miss Julie entered the apartment, without knowing who was there. The two quadroons were very prettily attired, for their last owner had indulged them in their passion for dress to a cer tain extent. So neatly were their habits arranged, that, as as they stood with their bonnets in their hands, Julie mistook them for some of her guardian s lady-friends ; and blushing as she advanced, she said THE TWO QUADROONS. 275 " Your pardon, ladies I was not aware " " Ladies /" said Brittan, quickly dispelling this illusion. " These are these are Nora and Katty I ve just got em, Julie." " Oh ! what a darling boy, too !" continued Julie, running toward the pretty curly-headed son of Nora, and stooping to kiss him, all unsuspectingly. " Why, what s your name ?" " Buff," said the boy, quickly. " Whose boy are you ?" " He s mine, miss," replied Nora, pleasantly. "Yours ! You his mother ?" " Yes, miss." Julie was astounded ! Brittan came to her aid at once. " Yes," said he, " they re all mine yours ours, that is. I bought one for you, and the other to to wait upon me, me, you see, Julie in the house, here." " Bought them ? And this child, too ? Why, he is n t they are not slaves, are they ?" " Oh, yes. They can wash, and cook, and do muslins, and and, a great many things bout house. And we want them here very much eh, Julie ?" His ward could make no reply. She saw what she did not want to see what she blushed to think of ! She saw, at a glance, that these two beautiful but unfortunate girls had been purchased by her guardian, undoubtedly, for a vile and wicked purpose, because she knew that no more house- servants were wanted or needed ! And Brittau was over sixty years old, too ! But there was 270 THE RAG-PIC KE JR. no good obtained by opposing his whims or his plans, as Julie very well knew. And so she said " I suppose we do want them. They shall attend upon me, and I 11 make them very useful to me eh, girls ? Would you like me for a mistress ?" " Oh, yes, yes !" said both the quadroons at once. " Yes, missy that would be nice," said Nora. " One of em Rally s for you, Julie," said the old man, " and Nora will wait upon me? " Yes. Well, I 11 take them both now, and show cm about the house," said Julie, in her own way. " Come, girls come, Buff!" and away they went, leaving Brittan to make his cal culations as to his future prospects with Nora, whose face and form he liked the best. Beck, the overseer, was in the stable when they came, but he did not see Taskem, and was not apprised of their arrival. As Nora and Katty were following Julie around the house, examining the premises, and listening to their new young mis tress advice, Buff strolled out at the back door, and ven tured into the stable. He was nicely dressed up, too, and Beck seeing him, mistook him for a son of some gentleman who might be on a temporary visit to Brittan, perhaps. " Hollo, my fine fellow !" he said, approaching the young ster. " How do ?" " Pooty \vell," said the boy. " And where do you come from eh ?" " I don no," said the boy. " Don t know ? What s your name ?" " Buff. Mother s in de oiise." " And who is mother ?" THE TWO QUADROONS. 277 "Who? W y, Nora. There she is!" shouted the little fellow, merrily, and running toward his mother, who, with Katty and their mistress, walked to the lawn, and sat down under the shade of the big old oaks at the side of the house. Beck eyed the new-comers for some time, but he could not make out who or what they were. So he went into the kitchen, where old Aunt Flurry (the cook) was busy, and asked " Who are them on the green, yonder !" " I don no, sah," said the cook. " I seed em wid misses, jiss now don no who dey is. Yaller gals, reck n, dough." " Yaller girls ? Wen d they come ?" " Don no reck n in forenoon." Beck could ascertain nothing from the dull old black cook, and so he returned to his business, eyeing the two strangers impudently as he passed along to the stable again. Taskem returned to Erittan s, after two hours absence, and they sat down over a bottle of sherry, to discuss the matter of his new purchase. " How d you like em " " Beautiful ! They re nice girls. It s all right, Taskem," continued Brittan, rubbing his hands " all fixed. Julie takes Katty, and Nora serves me attends me, you see." "Yes; I see." " Just as I wanted it. They re outside, now on the green. Beautiful ! I ve been lookin at em through the blind, here. Devilish nice, that Nora ? Plump as a duck. Now, about the boy .* " Well, I don t know edzackly bout him," said Taskem. * Yer see, the?e nigger wenches sometimes takes on like devils 278 THE RAG-PICKER. ef you take away their young uns ; that is, some on em do. Now I have seen em at would n t say a word when you robbed em of their children, no more n a crow would ef yer stole her eggs out the nest. But some on em git fiery, and riley, and obstroperlous. Nora s one o them kind ; an nless yer git the boy away quiet like, w en she don t know it, she might make a little noise, an. yer could n t manage her so well to do what yer want arterward, I reck n. She s a devil, when she s started, is Nora, an she thinks a heap o that young un." This did n t please Brittan, at all. " I won t have the brat left here," he said, " any way. Take him off with you, when you leave. Sell him for whatever you can get but carry him away, you understand. I don t want him left where she can find him, either." " Very well," said Taskem. " I 11 manage him. Leave it be. I 11 fix him. Beck 11 help." And after they had drank up their wine, Taskem went out to confer with his old friend, the overseer Lewy Beck. CHAPTER XLVIII. THE TABLES TURNING. " There is a point at which Forbearance ceases to be a virtue." " Dm n t know em ?" said Taskem to his old chum Beck, as the latter expressed his surprise that the two women were Nora and Katty, whom he had seen a thousand times before, in Missouri, " did n t know em ? Well, that is a good un." " Well, Railf, I hain t seen the gals fer five year n more, ycr know. An that mighty fine riggin they d on tuk me down, yer see. I did n t go very close to em, an the boy I did n t member, o course ; he s grown up sence. I sware, ef I didn t take that brat to be one of old Brittan s friends young ones, I m a liar ! Wen he come inter the stable, yere, I begun to coax and play with him, sposin he belonged to some visitor ; an he s so white and fair it s hard tellin , arn t it ? An arter all he s nuthin but a damn little nigger !" " Ha, ha !" roared Taskem, who could laugh, occasionally, at what he deemed such a joke ; " ha, ha ! Beck. I d like to a seen yer hugg n and kiss n im, though !" " Bah /" cried Beck, throwing from his filthy mouth a huge quid of tobacco, as if his stomach wore turned at the bare 280 THE RAG-PICKER. recollection that ho had placed his rough beard .in contact with Buff s fair cheek ! " "Well, ef he stops yere" continued the brute overseer, " an I can get a shy at im, I 11 pay him off; dam d ef I don t, thbugh !" " Pay him ? fer w ot ?" said Taskem, grinning again. " Fer fer his nfernal saace ! He did n t tell me he wus a nasty darn pic ninny." " But he won t stop yere," said Taskem, at last. " No ?" queried the overseer. " No. Brittan swears he won t hev im about, no way. He wants Nora. The old man s smashed with her, sart n ; jest as I s posed he d be, yer see. That s Avot I got her fer. She s to be a /iowse-sarvant, he ! he ! Yer know w ot purty yaller house-sarvants is, eh ?" said Taskem, sticking his tongue into his cheek, significantly. " But, how s the boy goin away ?" " I m to fix that fer em." " Won t she tear like the devil, though ?" " Nobody keeres fer that, yer know. Ef she goes to gittin on her high hoss, I tell Britt n ter turn her out to ye r keer ; an ef yer can t fix her flint for er, it ud be a pity, eh ? The boy 11 go, sure. I ken git three hunde rd for im, any day, in Memphis ; and that 11 be a most clear gain, yer see." Lewis, or Lcwy Beck, as the overseer was familiarly called, had been bred to his business ; and he was a coarse, rough-man nered, selfish, brutal being, whom long experience in his wicked calling had rendered entirely callous to all signs of human feelings in his own person. With scourge in hand, from sun rise to dark, he sought no occupation or amusement more to his taste than that of drivim? the miserable creatures that fell THE TABLES TURNING. 281 under his charge up to the very last tension of their strength, in the fields where they toiled ; and his requirements were peremptory, harsh, unreasonable and cruel, because he loved to tyrannize over his hands, and preferred the use of the whip, when he could get along much better even without it. His inhumanity was proverbial, and for this reason, chiefly, he was esteemed by Brittan, who quickly sympathized with him, and gave him unlimited power over his slaves. "Beck knows his business," the Englishman would say. " He knows what niggers need. He 11 get the work out of em. Beck s a trump." And so the overseer never heard oT appeal to the real mas ter of the place, when he scourged and flayed the hands, with or without a cause. Julie was greatly pleased with Nora and Katty ; and little Buff was so pert, so pretty, and so active, that she took a fancy to him directly. " Buff shall be my boy," she said to Nora, in her artless- ness, " and I will teach him to read and write ; and he shall ride on Miss Julie s pony ; and he 11 come to be a great man one o these clays. Won t that be very nice, Buff <" Buff sidled up to his mother, and said : " I want to be mudder s boy, an I want to ride missus pony !" Julie smiled at this shrewd reply, and said again : " So you shall, Buff. You shall be mother s boy, and you shall ride upon Miss Julie s pony, too." "Nora pressed her loved one closely to her side, and looked anxiously in his face. " He s a-cbarming boy," said Julie. " Don t you love him dearly ?" 282 THE BAG-PICKEK. " Yis, missus," replied Nora. " He s my chile, and yet he is n t, yer know. I often fear, now that good old master s bin bleged to let us go from him, that I 11 lose Buff some day ; an then I sh ud die sart n. I m feered he can t allers be with me. They can take him away from me, an sell him, yer know, missus, when they Ve a mind. But I shall go with him as long s I ken, any how." " You need have no fears on that score here, Nora. Master Brittan won t separate you, I m sure." " Beck s a bad man," said Nora. " He don t like us, me an Katty. I know d him we know d him to home. He wanted me to live with him onc t ; an cause I peached on him to master, he s hated me, an Katty, too, ever sence. He s here, so Master Taskem said, an I m feered he 11 seek revenge on us n some way." Katy was silent. Her fears were excited, too, when Taskem informed them that the wretch Beck might possibly be brought in contact with Nora and herself; but she listened only to what was said, without offering any exhibition of her suspicions. And to have seen the two quadroon girls, as they reclined there upon the bright lawn calm and pen sive and qtiiet as two unoffending lambs, no one would have suspected that either of them possessed the first spark of violence or pride of spirit in their seemingly listless com positions. And yet, as Beck had suggested, (and lie knew it !) when Nora was aroused she was as wild, as reckless and as fero cious as an untamed tigress ! The two girls had been carefully reared (for slaves), and their old master had per mitted them both to learn to read. They had been exposed THE TABLES TURNING. 283 to no physical personal abuse thus far (if one could judge from their appearance), and they yet had a good deal to learn ! " As to Beck," said Julie, kindly, " you need n t fear him ; he will have nothing to do with you so long as you remain at the house." " But the boy, missus. He knows how I lub him, and he 11 be hard with me in that way if he can." " The boy shall remain with us, within doors, Nora. He can be of small use outside, at present. I will see to that." " Thank yer, missus ; thank yer," said Nora, but still doubtfully, for she could not control her fears, somehow, that Buff would be torn away from her through Beck s influence ; and as they returned to the house the girls saw him. " There he is," said Katty, quickly. " I see him," responded Nora, " an I reck n he has n t fer- got us, eyther. He feels mighty nice yere, I ve no doubt, whar he can swing his whip as he pleases !" " Yer ken go right along, gals," said the brute to himself, glancing at them sulkily, " go right long now. The brat 11 be taken keer of ter-night ; an I 11 have them fine close off yer backs afore a month s gone, or I m somebuddy else be sides Lewy Beck, mind yer. I reck n yer think yer 11 hev a good time, now, with the soft-hearted missus yer Ve got in tow ! Ha, ha ! Never mind. I allers reck ned it ud come round right sometime or other. Go right long right long !" and a fiendish chuckle succeeded as Beck disappeared within the stable once more. " Did n t I tell yer not ter let that hoss drink, yer dam 284 THE UAG-PICKEU. fool ! Did n t I tell yer so ?" shouted Beck, as lie entered the building and saw Nappo watering one of the young animals at the trough. Nappo had misunderstood Beck s directions, and thought he had told him to water him. " I tort yer said water de colt, massa," responded Nappo, instantly. Beck waited for no reply, but as Nappo spoke he seized a billet of wood that lay at hand, and with a powerful blow on the negro s head and shoulders, felled poor Nappo to the stable floor as suddenly as if his victim had been struck down by a thunder-bolt ! " Carn t I beat noiKn through yer dam thick ugly skull ?" roared Beck, as he followed up his blows again and again with the club he had caught up in his frenzy, and with which he belabored Nappo unmercifully for two or three minutes. " Won t yer never larn nuthin , yer lazy mis able dam son of a wench ! I 11 see f I carn t teach yer, then." And at him he went again, with the fury of a madman, catching his thong, that he suddenly discovered on the floor where he had left it, and scoring and lashing the prostrate Nappo who had been stunned by the first blow, and was helpless until the wretch was absolutely exhausted and fagged out with his fearful and brutal efforts. The unlucky negro staggered to his feet at last, cut and flayed and shockingly bruised, and bleeding frightfully, when his eye fell upon Toney, who had just arrived from the fields below, and overhearing the scuffle and the groans of Nappo, hurried into the building. " What s the trouble, Mr. Beck ? Good God ! Nappo," T HE TABLES T U K N INC. 28i ) exclaimed Toney, as he saw the terrible condition the favorite servant was in, " what have you been doing ?" " Doin !" responded Beck, angrily, and gasping with his rage and over exertion ; " he s bin a-doin jest wot I told him not ter do. An I Ve lamm d him fer it. An I hain t done with im yit, nyther. I 11 kill him, dam him ! afore I 11 get through with him, see f I don t !" " You had much better kill him, Mr. Beck, outright, than to mutilate the poor fellow in this awful manner," said Toney, civily, but with firmness. " I don t want nun o yer advice, nyther. I know wot I m about, an I 11 lick him or any o the rest uv em, when I like, how I like, an as much as I like yer onderstand, now. An ef yer come yere to interfere with me, yer 11 git sarved wus n I sarve them, mind yer !" " Personally, I stand in no fear of such wretches as you are," replied Toney. " Take care wot yer say, now take care !" said Beck, turn ing briskly toward Toney, Avhile Nappo still stood on the floor, covered with gashes and blood. " Don t yer say too much ! I can t 6m/ 1 much," continued Beck. " I say I have no fears of you, personally, Beck. Such loud-barking dogs rarely bite except they attack some poor cur that may be their inferior in strength. You ought to be ashamed of this hour s work to the latest moment of your life, Beck ! I will not provoke you intentionally, but I warn you to be cautious how you menace me." " Leave the stable ! Leave the building !" screamed Beck amid his ire, and raising his arm again as if he purposed to fall upon Toney in his unsatisfied rage. 286 THEIlAG-l iCKK K . " Don t yer tech him /" shouted Nappo, forgetting his own position and every thing else for the moment. " Don t yer go tech Massa Toney. Yer may beat Nappo yer can mash dis head in, but yer must n t go ter tech Massa Mettler !" And before either Toney or Beck had time to prevent it, Nappo rushed upon the overseer with the fury of a demon, and, griping him firmly at the throat in his two powerful hands, he hurled him headlong to the great rear door of the stable, and dashed him heavily down the long stone steps out into the muck-heap ! As the form of Beck descended the stairway thus uncere moniously, his head and face came into sudden contact with the edges of the ragged steps, and he was badly injured as well as stunned by his fall. He lay in the wet filth for a moment, but soon recovered, and rushed up the stairs again. Toney had closed and fastened the back door and retired at once to the house. Nappo concluded to show " a clean pair of heels" for once, and as soon as Beck fell from his grasp he dashed away for the nearest woods, leaving Toney to arrange the affair in his absence, though not without the latter s advice. " Run, Nappo, run !" said Toney, quickly. " He 11 murder you if you don t. Run ! I ll take care of myself. He won t harm me." " I tink he will kill me dis time," suggested Nappo. " Go !" said Toney. And Nappo did go without further urging. When Beck got fairly upon his feet and saw the shocking plight he was in besmeared as he was from crown to foot THE TABLES T U It N I N G . 287 with blood and slime and muck, and found the door locked upon him, too he was desperately enraged. But his bruises were severe, and he finally cooled off a lit tle, and turned to take care of himself for the present, bitterly swearing to be avenged, however, upon Toney and Nappo for this spicy affair, in which he had been thus ludicrously worsted. CHAPTER XLIX. THE OVERSEER S REVENGE. " HE LL be out ter night, Jake," said Beck, to a huge negro near him, on the evening after the fracas ; "he 11 show his mug pretty soon. Mettler s told him to keep shady, I Ve no doubt ; and he 11 find work for im, so s I shan t git a shy at him. Keep yer eye open. I 11 go over to the cabin. Wen he comes bring him along with yer, and don t let him know I in round, d ye hear ?" " Yis, massa I heer." " Very well. See t yer fetch im." " Yis, sah." Nappo had not forgot the flaying he had had in the morn ing, either ; and he knew very well that if Beck got a chance at him, he would be likely to repeat the dose, and " double- up" on it, for the resistance he had then made. But he did not entertain the slightest idea of putting himself in Beck s way. Toncy would require all his day services, and they be lieved they had arranged the rest so that Nappo would not be likely to fall in Beck s Avay at all for the present. The future Nappo " reckoned" would take care of itself. His plans were laid ! THE OVERSEER S REVENGE. 289 Bnt he could not well avoid going down to quarters at night ; and, as soon as he reached his cabin, he suddenly found himself secured in the stout arms of the negro Jake, who never liked Nappo from the hour he came upon the place, and who was now backed up by Beck himself. Nappo was surprised again, but it was too late to retreat. "Now, Jake Lupy up with him! 71 shouted Beck, as Nappo entered " up with him !" And poor Nappo found himself triced up by his wrists to a stout beam, in less time than we can here record the fact. In the next moment he was stripped to the skin, and the slaves were all summoned into the low dirty room to witness the flogging. " Now, boys, yer 11 see w ot yer ll git," said Beck, " f u don t b have yerselfs an mind yer bisness. This nigger s bin saasy s well s lazy, an I m goin to take some o the bad blood out uv im. Now, give it to him, Jake do yer mind. An ef yer don t put it on, clean up ter the handle, I 11 give you w ot b longs to him, mind yer ! " An as for you" he added, shaking his huge fist in Nap- po s face, with bitter malice, " as for you it s mighty onfre- queut that / tells a nigger w ot I licks him fer. But yer need n t think yer ken play yer possum game with that white- livered son of a wench, Mettler, to my detriment. I m goin to flog yer now, an square up counts. I ve been a achin fer this chance to pay yer off, fer a good w ile. Give it to him, Jake, an lay it dose ev ry time, ef yer want to save yer own black hide." "JVappo /" shouted a voice, at the door of the cabin, at this moment. 290 T H E R A G - P r K E I? . "Massaf Massa Mettler !" screamed the negro in response, at the top of his lunga. " I want you, Nappo," continued Mettler, as he put his head into the door and saw the hands all assembled together in one room, and, at the same moment, discovered Nappo tied by the wrists to the post. " Put it on, Jake !" shouted Beck, enraged at the mal-apro- pos visit of Mettler. And, at the same time, resolved that he would not be baulked in his purpose again, he shouted, " give it to him !" Jake drew up his heavy whip, and it fell with a crashing, ringing force upon Nappo s already bruised shoulders and back, and then it fell again and again, before Toney could pos sibly reach the spot. " Hold ! you scoundrel ! Hold stop /" cried Toney. " Put it on !" screamed Beck. " Stop !" repeated Toney, fiercely. And springing upon Jake, like a young wolf (as he raised the scourge for the fourth time), with one hand he sent him reeling to the further end of the cabin, while with the other he Avrenched the whip from his grasp as he went. In the next moment he had sev ered the cord that bound Nappo to the beam, and freed him from further present harm, though his back and shoulders were shockingly cut and scored by the blows he had just re ceived. " Shame ! shame on you, Beck !" said Toney, turning to the inhuman brute, who had been the first and the present offending cause of this trouble. " Shame on your wretchedly vengeful disposition ! Go over to the stable, Nappo," he continued, addressing the poor negro, who was bleeding badly. THE OVERSEER S REVENGE. 291 but who never suffered a moan or a groan to escape him, not withstanding the severity of his renewed beating. " I hain t done with him yit," said Beck, sulkily, but who really feared Toney s influence with his employer. " I hain t got through with him, by a long mark, yit. I 11 snaik it out of him, or I 11 have his heart s blood," continued Beck, spite fully. " I 11 git my chance at him, yit bet yer life on t. An w en I c?o, I 11 pay him off, sure /" Toney would not quarrel with Beck himself, and so he quietly left the cabin, and followed Nappo over to the stables. " What had you been doing ?" asked Mettler, as soon as he found Nappo, again. " Any new trouble ?" " No, massa, no," said Nappo. " Noff n new. Beck s dat mad wid me dat he 11 nebber gib up riebber. He s allers hated me, an allers beat me, an he allers will. I se bin hard to work to-day, an I was jess gwine to de cabin, w en he cotched me ; an Jake he lub to lick de poor niggers, Jake do. We muss bar it, Massa Mettler we must bar t s long ^ we ken ; an den " " Well, I will see how I can help you out of the clutches and the reach of this unmerciful wretch, Nappo," said Toney, with a kind expression of sympathy ; and, procuring a clean sponge, he washed and bathed the excoriated back and shoul ders of poor Nappo before he left him for the night. Nappo finally skulked in beneath the corn-husk heap, in one of the barns, in preference to risking another visit to his cabin, where Beck watched for him till past midnight without success. The abuse of Nappo by this wretched slave-driver was only a^ single instance of the cruelty in constant practice upon the 292 THE KAG-1 ICKKK. field-hands of Brittau s estate. Beck was the autocrat of the plantation, and the proprietor knew and cared nothing about his mode of management, so that he kept the " lazy niggers" at work, and contrived to force the greatest possible amount of labor out of them, sick or well, a custom that every where prevails among the down-trodden creatures who are thus placed at the " tender-mercy" of these abominable task-mas ters, whose first qualification must be the known and firmly established lack of any thing, in their compositions, that is akin to feelings of humanity or reason ! This point is a lamentably notorious/ac^. There are no possible exceptions to this rule. It is true that among the slave proprietors there are found men who possess the finer feelings of the man and the gentleman, and instances are met with where these wretches are not permitted to " reign" upon slave- estates ; but this is not common. The great mass of proprie tors find it more convenient to intrust the care of the planta- tl^n 10 agents, who assume unlimited power in their province, while the owners know little or nothing of the horrible treat ment to which their slaves are continually subjected. A feel ing of total indifference to the details of their affairs is a char acteristic of Southern proprietors, and hence" the prime cause of the abuses noted. Kind treatment to slaves, wholesome food, and reasonable shelter for the sufferers is not permitted, as a general rule. I say is not permitted. I mean by this to insist that slave labor, as a whole, has long since been found to be unprofit able and ruinous, if the operatives are treated as well, cared for as well, sheltered as well, relieved and comforted as well (when really out of working condition), as are the horses and THE OVERSEER S REVENGE. 293 cattle of a reasonable and thriving Northern farmer, or even of a Southern gentleman ! All Southern experience points to this ; and the writer once heard a Virginian declare, solemnly, that " if he should spend as much money, proportionately, in housing, and feeding, and looking after his niggers, as he did in the grooming, and sheltering, and the care of his stud of horses, he would find himself against a wall, very shortly /" Nappo was the object of Beck s particular hatred, the more especially because Toney favored him. He dared not attempt to abuse Mettler, and so he wreaked the vengeance he har bored against both upon the devoted head of the defenseless slave, whenever he could find the opportunity. CHAPTER L. A SECRET INTERVIEW. She was all gentleness, all gayety ; And, in the luster of her youth, she gave Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francisco. KOGERS. JULIE and Toney sat alone together, in a small arbor directly in the rear of the dwelling-house, a pretty and taste ful retreat which Toney had himself built, two years before, and where the lovers had often met to talk and speculate upon the future. Brittan was absent at the race-course, where a favorite horse of his was about to run for a large purse, and upon the result of which the Englishman had a heavy sum of money pending. " I shall never forget that scene, Julie," said Toney, with deep feeling, " as long as I have breath. I never saw a slave badly punished before in my life, and although I Ve often heard about it, I knew I could n t stand quietly by and see one of them thus maltreated upon any consideration whatever. Nappo was shockingly abused, really." " Is n t it dreadful ? And I have talked, and talked to iny guardian, and urged him to leave this place, of which I am most heartily sick, I assure you ; but he is obdurate, and de- A SECRET INTERVIEW. 295 clares he will live and die here among them, come what may in the mean time." " Ah, Julie !" exclaimed Toney, " you may as well save your breath on this point. He will never give it up. Ho can t do it." "Can t? Why not?" "Well, I will tell you why, and you will appreciate me, though I am sure this will be news to you. Mr. Brittan has gone so far that he has not the ability, pecuniarily, to recede. He has mortgaged his estate for almost its full value, Taskem has over-reached him terribly, his slave-purchases have been foolish and unnecessary, his horse-racing and wine-bibbing have cost him a fortune, his tobacco-crops have been poor and too expensive altogether, and he is at this hour upon the very verge of bankruptcy, I have no sort of doubt." " What /" " It is as I tell you, Julie, precisely. He is now absent at the great races. Upon one or two of the favorite horses he has wagered some twelve thousand dollars. He raised a second and a third mortgage, here, to obtain the money for his portion of the stakes, I know, and he may win. If he does not, where will he then be ?" " You astound me !" exclaimed Julie, emphatically. " I told you it would be news ! And now I ve another piece of intelligence, which I presume will be quite as new, and I hope more interesting, which I have long desired the opportunity to communicate to you." " Well, Toney, what next 2" " I am about to leave Greenville, Julie, forever. "You leave you, Toney?" replied Julie, looking him 296 THE RAG-PICKER. strait in the face. " No, you re not no, no Toney ! You certainly do not mean any such thing as this," said Julie, con fused, and evidently alarmed. " After what has passed with Beck, here, I have no wish to remain a moment, I assure you, Julie, even if I had not pre viously made up my mind to go North again. But now my decision is irrevocably determined on, and I shall go at an early day. I can not leave at an hour s notice, of course. But, within a month, I intend to join my friends in the State of New York," said Toney. " New York ? But you have always said you had no friends, Toney. How is this ?" " I found them when I was absent, a few weeks since, Julie. I promised my dear sister Carrie you have often heard me speak of her that I would very soon return to her. I must redeem my promise ; and, besides, I am heart-sick, heart-sick, Julie, of this life, here !" " Not more so than / am, Toney, I know. And why then should you go, and leave me to suffer alone here ? Is this the end of all your protestations, Toney ? You surely can not have the heart to leave me thus, I think." " Not for all Kentucky, Julie, and all the world besides !" exclaimed Toney, fervently. " I have no idea of changing my resolve about going, dearest, but I shall not leave you behind me." " And how how, then ?" asked Julie, blushing. " How then, Julie 1 Why, I have a few hundred dollars saved from my earnings in the past seven years, and I am a better fanner to-day, a good deal, then I was when I came to Ken tucky. I have health, and strength, and some share of talent A SECRET INTERVIEW. 297 in my way. God has implanted in my bosom a love of right, and I have the courage to believe that I can readily obtain a good living wherever my lot may be cast. You will become my wife we will leave this place together you shall go with me where I go you shall see my loving, darling sister, who will be rejoiced to meet you ; and we shall be far happier than we can be, by any possibility, here, I am sure. Don t you think so, Julie ?" " And and leave my guardian, Brittan, here ?" replied Julie, confusedly. " What is he to you ? Oh, Julie, be advised by me, and trust me ; / will not deceive you." She fell upon his breast, as she said : " I am yours, yours, Toney ; do with me as you will !" Before this interview was closed, all the requisite prelimi naries had been arranged for their flight and marriage. Toney very well knew that Brittan would peremptorily scout any approaches that he should attempt to make toward his ward, if he had been apprised of his feelings in regard to her ; and Julie also knew that her guardian would never consent to listen to such a proposal for an instant. Old Brittan had never suspected, for one moment, that any such feeling existed between the lovers at all. They had ex ercised the utmost caution, continuously, and their intercouse had always been so carefully managed that her guardian was totally unadvised as to the real state of the case. Brittan had, once in his life, been shocked at a daughter s rashness. He was now destined to be astounded at his ward s temerity ! It was evening. The race was over. Brittan had just re turned to his dwelling. He had bet on the wrong horse, and 13* 298 THE RAG-PICKER. was thirteen thousand dollars worse off, pecuniarily, than he was twelve hours previously ! lie was in a wretchedly de jected mood, for he was certain he thought that he should Avin. But people do not always win at horse-races, and especially people who bet and are not acquainted, .pretty well, with the gamblers of the South and West ! Taskem had not yet received his four thousand three hun dred dollars for the last three slaves he had sold Brittan. He held his note for this amount, and both he and Brittan had been striving. for some days to raise an additional mortgage upon the estate, but there was quite as many liens on it as the lenders desired to see ; and the money could not be obtained. Brittan was alarmed. " Things look squally, here," said Beck to Taskem. But Taskein replied : " Keep cool, Beck. Britt n owes rne over four thousan dollars, an I must git it somehow. Say nuth n. He 11 hold out another year, eesy, I reck n. It ud be a mighty tight fit fer me ef he did n t pay me, though ! My pile s in them three niggers. Fer God s sake, keep still," urged Taskem, who had invested his pecuniary all in this last venture ! CHAPTER LI. THE GUARDIAN S PROPOSAL. He secretly Puts pirate s colors out at both our sterns, That we might fight each other in mistake That he should share the ruin of us both ! CROWN S Ambitious Statesman. ANTHONY BRITTAN had endeavored to make himself agree able to Nora, and for three or four days had permitted her to go when and where she would, around the place, without molestation. She had been scrupulously watchful of her boy, however, and never permitted him to get out of her sight, day or night. She passed the greater portion of her time in the compan ionship of Katty, who had been regularly installed as the at tendant of Julie, and whom Brittan s ward was well pleased with. Julie found the two sisters exceedingly useful in household affairs, and they proved very excellent servants in every way. All that Nora seemed to care for beyond exhibiting a will ingness to parform her daily duty acceptably, was to know that her boy, Buff, was constantly safe, and that he would re main with her ; and while she was continually on the qui vive to retain him, Taskem had about concluded his arrangements to smuggle him away. 300 THE RAG-PI CKEK. But Nora proved impracticable, and Brittan became mo rose and sulky. He sent for Ms ward suddenly, one after noon (after he had dined and swallowed a bottle of port), and said : " Julie, you have seen Mr. Flash once or twice, here. You remember him ? We met him at Covington, too, and at Ash- ville, last season." " Yes, sir," said Julie, " I recollect him." " He will be here next week, or the week after, to pass a few days with us. He is a gentleman of fortune, and and he he is pleased pleased with you so he says. He is single, and you can gratify me, Julie, exceedingly, by being attentive to him during his sojourn here." Julie was not more surprised at the matter than at the manner of Brittan s short speech. It had evidently been studied, thought upon, coined and pointed for this occasion ! He knew she was proud and high-toned in many of her ideas, and she came honestly by them her father before her was so and Julie had herself arrived at " years of discretion." Brittan knew all this, and he had sold her sold his ward, Julie Manning to Timothy Flash, Esq., at a round consider ation, but all in secret ! The only bar to the consummation of the bargain between these two precious scoundrels, now, was the delivery of the property to the purchaser ! And the compact was brought about in this wise : Brittan was out of cash. He must have money ready money soon, or his affairs must be summarily and disgrace fully wound up ! In his efforts to obtain a fresh mortgage upon his estate for the purpose of staving off the evil day for a time, he chanced to meet with Mr. Flash (who was a wealthy THE GUARDIANS PROPOSAL. 301 but dissolute man), to whom he broached his wishes. Flash had the means, and, in his usual off-hand manner, replied : " Brittan, you shall have the amount you Avant, provided you re inclined to help me in a little affair that will occasion you but slight inconvenience, if any at all, and in which I can t very well succeed without your aid." " Name it !" says Brittan, smilingly. " Will you first give me your promise, upon honor, that if you can accomplish it, you will do so ?" " Assuredly, will I," said Brittan, putting his hand on his waistcoat ! Very good. You can have the fifteen thousand dollars you seek upon your simple note of hand, without security. I am happy in being able to serve you. And in return I want the hand of your ward, Miss Manning, in marriage." Brittan halted ! This was rather too business-like even for his notions ! He hesitated, and Flash continued : " I flatter myself, Mr. Brittan, that I am not a very bad- looking man " " No, no ! On the contrary " " Well, no matter about compliments. Is it a bargain ? Will you assist me ?" Brittan reflected. Yes, yes," he said ; " I will." " Enough," said Flash. " I will make you a visit at yow estate, shortly, and you shall propose for me. I m a devil ish poor hand at proposing to the women, I assure you. If we succeed you shall have the amount. Try it. The day we are married I will place the money in your hands." This was the upshot of the agreement, and Brittan returned 302 THE RAG-PICKER. home again to commence the accomplishment of his part of the villainous scheme to unite his innocent ward to a rich but noted libertine and villain. " I recollect Mr. Flash," said Julie, " and I have always en deavored to be attentive to all your friends who came hither to visit us." " I know it I know it, puss," said Brittan, attempting to be gracious, " but this time I m particularly anxious you should please Mr. Flash my friend who, a who is de lighted with your charming appearance, Julie,.and who might, possibly I say he might go so far as to to even offer you that is to say, I think he might even make you an offer of of his a hand, Julie !" Brittan had delivered his speech, and he felt greatly re lieved for a moment ! " Me ! Offer his hand ? What for, pray ?" " What for, puss ? Why, you can t be so ignorant, so stu pid, as all that, can you ?" " I really don t see what / have to do with the hand of Mr. Flash," continued Julie, artlessly. " Well, I mean in marriage, Julie. That s all." " Oh ! is that all ?" queried Julie, recovering herself. " Is that all ?" " Yes. He s a very nice young man, too, is Flash. A clever fellow, and rich as Croesus. You 11 be delighted with him, and he 11 make you an excellent husband. You 11 re member this, won t you, Julie ?" said Brittan, again. " Oh, surely, / will remember it," replied Julie, with em phasis. u And you 11 treat him nicely when he comes, won t you ? THE GUARDIAN S PROPOSAL. 303 And when you see him you II put on your softest smiles, eh ? little pretty puss eh ? won t you ?" " Wlien I see him I will be attentive to him, of course, since you are so particular in your wishes," said Julie. " So I thought so I thought ! I knew you d be agreeable to it. I Tcnew you would," said old Brittan, vastly pleased with his prospect thus far. " Leave these things to me to manage, /know what women are. I know what pleases the girls, / do," he continued. " I know what s best for my girls, of course I do. And if I did n t, who should, to be sure ? I know what s best for you, ray Julie. I in your guardian, ain t I ? Your father left you to my care, and your father was my friend my friend ! I d do by you just as I would by my own daughter, just exactly ! And I would n t abuse the trust reposed in me by a friend a dying friend a dead friend by no manner o means no ! Xot /. Anthony Brittan s too honorable and high-minded a man for that. And it would n t be right, nor just, eyther ! It would n t be acting the part of a Christian for a man to accept such a responsible charge. (Brittan did not mention any thing of the twenty thousand dollars belonging to Julie that he had squandered every dollar of it in betting at horse-races !) It would n t be doing as we d wish to be done by, under similar circumstances, for me to make any proposi tion of such a serious nature unless I knew it was for the best, and as I know this one to be eh ? would it, Julie ? Say, don t you think so, puss ?" There was no reply to Brittan s final loving query ! Julie had left the room, some moments before the old man had reached this climax of his speech, and he was alone ! 304 THE RAG-PICKER. He had not deigned (or dared) to look his ward in the face, when she came into the apartment, and as she observed at once that he had been indulging in his wine, while he was thus gabbling at random, she slipped quietly out from be side his chair, where she had been standing during the early part of the interview, and left her respected and respectable guardian gazing into and talking at the empty parlor flower- vase ! Brittan turned about in his chair looked after his ward a moment concluded, on the whole, that it was all right, and, leaning back against the cushions, he was soon sound asleep. Julie had found Toney, and quickly related to him what Brittan had just proposed to her. The lovers consulted together, and the conclusion they ar rived at was that the sooner they carried their own scheme into execution, the sooner they would both be relieved from the embarrassments and annoyances of their present positions. But Anthony Brittan suspected nothing, and he slept as soundly and as unconcernedly as if his couch were of roses and his prospects elysian ! CHAPTER III. TWO WRONGS SOMETIMES MAKE ONE RIGHT. I have had feelings of my cousin s wrongs, And labored all I could to do him right; But, in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong it may not be. And you, that do abet him in this kind, Cherish rebellion, and are rebels, all ! York. RICIIAED II. " WELL, Nappo, I m going to leave you," said Toney to the negro, one day, soon after his trouble with Beck had passed by, as they were alone at one end of the corn-field. " Whar yer gwine, massa ?" exclaimed Nappo, his great eyes enlarging as he spoke. " Whar yer gwine ?" " I am going to leave this State, altogether." " All togedder ? W"ho gwine wid you, all togedder ?" " I mean, permanently. I do not intend to come back, as I have done heretofore when I ve been away." " Wen yer gwine, massa ?" " In a few days, now." Nappo hung his head, and the hoe lagged in his hands at first, and then he ceased to work entirely, but he did not speak until Toney accosted him : " T hope, Nappo, you will get along without trouble, after 306 THE RAG-PICKER. I m gone. Your fate is a harsh one the fate of your race is hard. But your case, especially, is one that commands sym pathy, because you have once tasted the sweets of liberty, and know Avhich is preferable freedom or bondage ! I wish I were able, I Avould take you with me, Nappo, but I can t. I m poor, and I I m sorry but I can t do it. You ve been faithful to me, and faithful to your master, Brittan, under my direction. But you must bear up manfully, and remember that there is a better world than this, a bright hereafter, where we must all meet, one day, to give an account of our doings in this sphere, and where we shall all be upon an equal foot ing the master no higher than his slave, if the servant is faithful and just to himself and his neighbor." " You mean up dar /" said Nappo, pointing with his dry, hard hand heavenward. " Yes, Nappo ; we shall all be equal there." "Yes, /believe so, Nappo." " Wot Massa Britt n, an Beck, an all? Ekal to me an yer, and yer ? Dey ekal ter we ?" " They will repent, I trust, seasonably, and they will be for given of their errors." " I duzz n t want ter go up dar," said Nappo, firmly. " What !" said Toney. " No. Dis chile rudder not, massa. Dis chile duzz n t keer bout gwine up dar, ef Massa Beck an Taskem s dar, no how !" " You must endeavor," continued Toney, " now I in going away, Nappo, to conciliate your master ; and if you go along smoothly with Beck, he 11 treat you better, I hope." " Nebber, nebber, Massa Mettler," continued Nappo, stoutly, TWO WRONGS MAKE O N K K I G H T . 307 " Dem men nebber 11 forgib Nappo, long s cley lib ; an w en you se gone, dey 11 mash his head for ini, to pay off all de ole detts, fer sart n. War yer gwine, Massa Mettler ?" asked Nappo, significantly, once more. " To New York State, Nappo. Why ?" " Well, ef you shu d see a poor nigger up dar, n he had nt no money, ner no frens, ner nuff n, an he shu d be tryin to git way from deze cusses yere, yer would n t peach on jm, wud yer, massa eh ?" " If you ever come where I am, Nappo, I 11 treat you well, and you shan t suffer. Mind ! I don t advise you to run away, though." " Yer e gwine ter run away, ain t yer, massa ?" " No, Nappo. / don t have to run away. I m free to go when and where I please." "Wall, Massa Ellerson, yerfarder, he run way wid Missey Annie, an he was free man, too eh ?" This was a home-thrust for Toney, for he had arranged every thing to " run away" with Julie, at an early day. And though Nappo could not possibly have suspected any thing of this, yet his remark fitted Toney s case exactly. "Well, Nappo," continued Toney, "two Avrongs don t make one right, you know. You are Master Brittan s legal prop erty; and though it is an unfortunate situation for you, the law requires that you should remain here. This is one wrong, and a grievous one ; but submission is a virtue. Now, if you should run away from your owner, you would be taking, from him just so much money as your pecuniary value amounts to; and this would be what some people denominate stealing, or robbery, you see. So that this would be the second wrong. 308 THE UAG-PICKER. Now, as I said before, since two wrongs, like these I have mentioned, can not make one right, you should n t be instru mental in committing one of the wrongs, although the other O O O exists, and you are thus a victim to the injustice of it." Nappo was very attentive to this excellent piece of advice, though he did not comprehend the whole of it. " I see, Massa Toney, I see," said Nappo. " Two wrongs nebber make one right, zackly ; on y sometimes dey do /" " I think not, Nappo." " Well, massa, I tell you, den," said Nappo, in a whisper. " Poze I run way one time, an go lib w ile in free State, an bimeby dem slave-cotcher, Taskem, cum an nab poor Nappo, an take him back ter Alerbama ? Dat one wrong, ain t it, massa ?" " Yes, yes." " Wai, den. Toze Nappo take good chance, w en he ken git urn, an run way gin dat two times dat two wrong, fer sart n ; eh, massa ?" " Yes," said Toney. " Wai, massa, dem two wrong make one right, sure s preach n ; fer, bet your life, Massa Toney, ef dis chile git into free State gin, he nebber git cotched s long s he libs ! An dat ud be one right, fer sart n eh, Massa Mettler ?" The force of Nappo s theory struck Toney very remarkably, though he saw that the poor slave was not altogether dis interested in his homely argument. So he said " Well, Nappo, I don t know exactly what you are thinking of, but I hope you 11 be happy, wherever you may be situated, in the future. I m sorry I ever came here at all, for many reasons, but I am about to quit Kentucky, and I only wish I TWO WRONGS MAKE ONE RIGHT. 309 were able to free every slave Brittan owns," said Toney, feel ingly. " This is put of the question, however, and I must leave you all to the mercy of those who ought to be kind to you." " But dey nebber 11 be kind to us," said Nappo, again, " nebber. Dey 11 beat us, an mash us, and work de skin off our bones, an den trow us to der dogs, w en we re us t up. Dass w ot dey 11 do, massa. An ef yer say ye re gwine, I say / m gwine too, ef I ken get way." "Well, Nappo, I mustn t know any thing of this, you see. If I see you, hereafter, away from your master s place, I can t help it, and shan t. When I leave him I Ve done with him and his forever. As I said before, if you come where I am, I 11 do what I can for you ; but I don t recommend you to run away. It is a long journey to the free States, and you d find it a weary one," continued Toney, in a low tone. "Yis vis; I hear urn, I hear urn, massa," said Nappo, listening attentively and excitedly, and catching every syllable that dropped from his friend s lips. " You d have to suffer from fasting, and you would be com pelled to skulk by day, and travel by night." " Yis yis, massa." " And then you would have a long way to walk, too, and you would be surrounded by spies and man-wolves, who would seize you, if possible, at any moment, on suspicion of being a runaway ; so that you would have to be extremely cautious how you were exposed, for a single moment, as you went." " Yis, massa !" " And you d have to find your way to Lewisburg " 310 THEUAG-PICKER. "Yis " " But you must n t enter the town, though." " O no I see, massa Lucyberg ; I knows em." " And then, when you reached Green River, you d have to sly up the valley, always keeping the course of the river up to Harpshead but not to go into the village, you know." " No, no, massa Harps ed, I member him, too." " And so on still north, that is up between Carthage and Henderson " " Yis, massa ! Cartige an Aunerson. I knows dem, too." " Then across the Ohio river, and that 11 bring you into Illinois. Keep right on, then that is, I mean, Nappo, you would find it necessary to continue straight forward, thus, if you were there and get upon the Wabash Eiver. " Yis, Warbush ; I know im, massa. Dass w ar de big Injuns lib ; I know." "Arid then you would have to seek for the town of Vin- cennes, and that is a long way off, you see but there you d find friends, Nappo friends who would aid you. But you see you would hardly be able to accomplish all this ; and you would be hunted from the day or hour you left here. You would stand but a small chance of escaping again, and if they caught you this time, you d be shipped off to Alabama or Mississippi, where you would forever remain in bondage. The difficulties to be surmounted are far too great, Nappo." " What ! fer liberty, massa ! Fer freedom ?" exclaimed Nappo, strangely. " Yer nebber was a slave, Massa Toney," said Nappo, with deep emphasis. " Yer nebber know d w ot it wus to wear de chains, an feel the lash ob Beck an Taskem, an dem? TWO WRONGS MAKE ONE RIGHT. 311 " I have seen more of it than I shall ever see again, Nappo," replied Toney. " But it s a difficult thing for you to escape from it, any way." " Lucyberg Green Ribbev Harps d Gartige Annerson hio Ribber -freedom /" said Nappo, clasping his hands in the intensity of hope, and repeating the words again and again : " Lucyberg, Green Ribber, Harps ed, Cartige, hio liberty ! Oh ! Massa Mettler, am yer gwine dar ? am yer gwine to de hio ribber, an "VVarbush, an Cartige, an free State 3" " Yes, Nappo, never to return." " Wen you gwine dar," asked Nappo, again. " Within a few days." Nappo was silent, and Toney left him, finally, with the in junction : " Remember, Nappo, two wrongs don t make one right. If you attempt to escape from bondage you do so at your peril. If you do go, though, remember Lewisburg, Green River, Harpshead, Carthage, Ohio River " " An freedom f tank God!" exclaimed Nappo, earnestly, as his kind-hearted friend disappeared. " I should n t be at all surprised," said Toney to himself, as he departed toward the house, " I should n t wonder, now, if Nappo really intended to run away again poor fellow !" It certainly did look somewhat suspicious ! CHAPTER LIII. THE STOLEN CHILD. Away ! away, on bounding steeds. The white maii-stealers fleetly go Through long low valleys, fringed with reeds, O er mountains capp d with snow Each with his captive far and fast 1 THOMAS PKIJTOLE, TASKEM had been watching all the next day for the oppor tunity to get Nora s boy away; but the mother either sus pected him, or was more than usually watchful, while the slave-trader was in sight, and it had come to be nearly even ing before he made any open attempt at removing Buff. It was getting late, and he had eight miles to go before he could obtain a public conveyance to the southward it being his intention to proceed, at once, to Hopkinsville, and down to Cumberland River ; whence he could get away with the child without further trouble. He had taken leave of Brittau, and the sun had just set, as Taskem came to the side entrance of the house, and said : " Hello, Buff, w ot yer doin " The little fellow started to his feet, and went into the kitchen as the trader approached, for Nora had taught him, in secret, to look upon Taskem as a wicked ghoul, from which he should flee whenever he saw him comiug ! THE STOLEN CHILD. 313 " Come, Buffy, come," ho continued, coaxingly, as if he were calling a dog ; but the boy looked in his eye and said : " No, I don t wanter." " Then I 11 hev ter fetch yer," replied the brute, jumping into the doorway, ferociously, and griping the boy in his arms. With one hand he seized Buff rudely, and as the boy screamed " mam ," the other palm of the slave-catcher was clapped upon the youngster s mouth, to prevent him from uttering the final syllable, when he would have called for " mamma !" Jumping out of doors with him as quickly and as stealthily as he had come in, he hastened to the rear of the dwelling, where stood a rough open wagon, with a stout horse before it, in readiness for a start. " Quick, Beck, quick, now !" said Taskem to his companion in sin, who held the horse, and only awaited to assist his friend away, " quick, for he s as strong as a young bull." And Buff was tumbled heels over head into the bottom of the wagon, after having been nearly strangled, as he came from the house, in Taskem s hands. " Oh ! mammy, mammy Nora mammy !" shouted Buff; " Buckra-man er got im ! Buckra-man er got im, mammy !" and away went the wagon at a jump. " Wot s that ?" yelled Nora, springing madly out of the parlor, whither she had been summoned by Brittan, a moment previously, in order to give Taskem the opportunity he had been unsuccessfully seeking, for six long hours. " Wot s that noise ? Buff Buffy /" she shrieked, as she darted away ; " whar is he," and followed by Katty, who chanced in her way as she rushed out, the maddened mother flew to the rear of the house, in season to behold the villain Taskem turning his 14 314 THE RAG-1 ICKEK. horse into a by-way, a few yards behind the dwelling. With infuriated vigor she dashed after him, at top speed, as she continued to scream : " My boy ! my chile ! Buff I my chile my chile ! Don t steal im, massa. Oh ! gi me back my chile !" The road-way was ragged and muddy, and the horse soon found, notwithstanding the goading and lashing that Taskem administered to him, that his load was rather too stubborn for him to gallop along with freely, and he began to show signs of faltering and obstinacy. Taskem lashed him, and swore terribly, while Buff had heard Nora s voice, and was struggling with all his might and main to leap from the wagon. What Avith attempting to guide the now unruly beast, and to keep him going, and at the same time striving with feet and hands to hold Buff down, Taskem quickly as certained that he had" obtained something more than he had originally " bargained for," when suddenly his horse balked, and came to a dead stand-still in his tracks ! Nora and Katty, with their long black crimpled hair stream ing wildly in the wind, were close behind him (for they had gained upon his tracks from the outset) and as his horse halted they came on rapidly toward the vehicle. Nappo was just returning from the corn-fields, and seeing the involun tary race, which he did not at first comprehend, was quickly in the wake of the two girls, who flew over the ground like two frightened roes. " Wot is it V shouted Nappo. " Taskem !" said Katty. "Do boy!" yelled Nora. And this was enough. Nappo was on the spot as soon as THE STOLEN CHILD. 315 the others, though Taskem did not see him, for he was on fire with his rage and disappointment at this unexpected pursuit, and his sudden and unlucky dilemma. The screams of the boy were heart-rending, amid his alarm and the rough handling he experienced. But Taskem had undertaken to remove him, and he did not intend he should escape his clutches. At a single bound, as she came up, Nora sprang nimbly into the wagon, and wildly seized upon her child. " Give way, dam yer ! Out with yer ! I 11 kill yer, yer yaller wench I 11 murder yer, ef yer don t !" yelled Taskem in his wrath, as Katty mounted on th6 opposite side and clinched his arm. " Gib her de boy, den !" said Katty. " Gi me der child !" shouted Nora, again seizing Buff and springing with him to the ground before the villain could re cover himself. But Taskem was not to be vanquished thus easily ; and, flinging the reins upon the saddle of his contrary beast, he sprang to the side of the road and darted in pursuit of Nora, who was now fleeing back toward the house with all her en ergies Katty following close behind her to cover her retreat, if necessary. As he came up, Katty turned on the wretch and struck him fiercely on the cheek, which staggered him, though it did fall from a woman s hand ! But this opposition was only tempo rary, for, with a single blow in return, he felled poor Katty to the earth with such violence as to knock the breath from her body, as he rushed past her upon Nora s staggering tracks ! 316 THE RAO-PICKER, Taskem could scarcely see Nora and the boy, it had got to be so dark ; but still he dashed after them, and still the al most exhausted mother and her child fled on before the wretch they so heartily despised. But Taskem suddenly felt a terrific crash upon the side of his head, and then another, when he fell heavily forward into the path, and the race was up for this heat ! Nora flew on wildly madly with almost superhuman en durance, for she had run at the top of her strength a distance of nearly two miles since she first left the house. But she reached the old porch at last, and with an appalling shriek of misery, fright and exhaustion, dashed her child in before her as she cried " Save him ! save him !" and fell helpless upon the great hall-floor of Brittan s house ! Julie was passing at the moment, and, greatly alarmed at this sudden exhibition, she sprang forward to Nora s assist ance, loudly calling for help at the same moment. Upon turning Nora and raising her up, blood was found to be gushing fearfully from her lips and nostrils, and she was taken into an inner room, where all the medical aid the house afforded was brought into requisition, for it was evi dent from the hemorrhage that she had sustained an alarm ing internal injury, from some cause as yet unexplained. Julie was in great distress until Katty arrived and in formed her that Taskem was in the act of carrying off her child, whom she had rescued from his grasp and fled with, subsequently. And directly afterward Toney entered to con firm the story, as lie had quietly received it from Nappo s lips. When Taskem fell so suddenly in the road, as he was pur suing Nora and the boy, Nappo was near him, as it turned THE STOLEN CHILD. 317 out in the end. But of this nothing was known by the slave-catcher personally. He knew that he had been badly wounded from the blows he had received at that unlucky mo ment, for when he came to consciousness, an hour afterward, he was scarcely able to get up out of the road ! Beck saw him start, and, like a coward as he was, instantly skulked out of sight, and knew nothing more of the affair at all, though he supposed that Taskem was far on his way to Cumberland River with the boy, while the trader lay bleeding in the path, half a mile from the dwelling of Brittan. "When Taskem reached the house, at last, Nappo was ab sent again, having deemed it prudent to retire to his cabin, lest he might be suspected of having had a hand in the rescue. He knew that Taskem had been hurt, and he did not know but he was dead. He saw him lying in the road, and passed on! The horse had stood as long as suited his pleasure, and finally concluded to return to Brittan s stable. In getting out of the narrow path he overturned the wagon, which frightened him, and he ran with the vehicle at his heels, at a fearful speed, until he dashed it against a tree stump, smashing it in pieces, by the way, and coming to the stable door at a round pace, most desperately alarmed at the mischief that he had lately been concerned in. CHAPTER LIV. A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. Back on the past ho turns his eye, Kemembering, with an envious sigh, The happy dreams of youth. SOUTHEY. THE employers of Henry Ellson ascertained, at length, that his talents and abilities were of a much higher order than they had originally given him credit for. He was constant, faithful, perseveringly industrious to the last degree, and had made himself so useful in the establishment that they came to value his services, and promoted him accordingly. A vacancy occurring in the book-keepers department, Ell- son was at once installed as an assistant (at a salary of six hundred dollars per annum), where he very soon showed his principals what he could do. He was a good penman, and his intimate acquaintance with the details of his duties, which he had acquired years before, proved of the greatest service to him. This change and handsome advance in his personal income coon placed him fairly upon his feet. At the expiration of his third year, in the employ of this firm, his compensation was again increased to nine hundred a year, and Ellson as sumed a " respectable" appearance directly ! A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. 319 lie took a pretty house (in company with Mr. Meeker) further down town, where he could be more conveniently lo cated for his business. He furnished his half of it very neatly, and soon the now happy wife and husband began to enjoy life once more with a zest. They went into society again, a little, and friends were raised up around them. And oh ! how happily passed the days and hours they now enjoyed together, surrounded by the comforts and ease they had hitherto, for so weary a period, been strangers to. In her neat little sitting-room, so handsomely appointed, with a picture here and there adorning the walls, and a small but useful library of books which Ellson had collected from time to time, surrounded by all that she desired save the companionship of her lost children how often did Annie compare her present position with what it had been ! And how fervently did she again and again thank God that, in His mercy, He had thus saved her Henry from total destruc tion, aud had finally so blessed them both in their "fortune and their store." They had omitted to avail themselves of no opportunity that promised the slightest information concerning their long- lost children, but still heard nothing from them. Two or three times they had advertised in the city journals, but they received no reply. Toney was in Kentucky, and Carrie was in the westerly part of New York State. They saw no Eastern papers, and had no idea that their parents were living. All the parties who could have given the father and mother any clew to the children bad long since been scattered, and though they so THE RAG-PICKER. earnestly and continuously desired to learn of their where abouts, the boon was as yet denied them. Our old friend Davy, who had watched the beautiful Carrie from her infancy with a fatherly care, and who now beheld her approaching to womanhood, and growing more lovely day by day, still enjoyed the quiet of his pretty little nook under the edge of the hill, near E , and the aged rag picker s protegee had studiously improved the opportunities afforded her to improve her mind, and add to the store of use ful knowledge she had laid up in the few previous years of her singular life. They had been looking for Toney s return for several days. At the rear of Davy s shop, and overhead, there were three or four small apartments, neatly furnished, which served for chambers and a neat sitting-room, notwithstanding the some what contracted appearance of the building to the every-day passer-by, in the road. These rooms had latterly been refitted and nicely arranged for the reception of guests ; for Toney had hinted to Carrie his intention, when he again came in that direction, to bring with him a stranger to her, but one whom he long had loved, and with whom he was confident she would be delighted. " I wonder he does n t come," said Carrie, impatiently, when every thing had finally been put in readiness to accommo date them. " What can detain him ?" " You are overanxious, deary," replied Davy. " It is now but five weeks since he left, and he thought he should n t be able to return imder seven or eight weeks, I think." " You are right. I remember, now," replied Carrie. But Toney was then on his way North, and his anxious friends were destined soon to embrace him. CHAPTER LV. NORA S DEPARTURE. Weep not for her! It was not hers to feel The miseries that corrode amassing years, Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down age s vale of tears Weep not for her ! D. M. MOIE. " WHAT s happened to her ?" exclaimed old Brittan, coming into the room hastily, and seeing Nora covered with blood, while the servants and Julie and the cook were bustling about as if the prostrate slave were somebody of real consequence. " What the devil s the matter with her ? Can t she speak ? eh, Nora ! What s all this about," shouted Brittan, ap proaching her. For once in his life the old man appeared to be alarmed ! " She s burst a blood-vessel, evidently," said Toney, who was present. " This comes of that wretch Taskem s manage ment, you see, sir. I warned you against that man years ago, Mr. Brittan." " Did he do it ? Did Taskem do it ? How ?" said Brittan, confusedly. " He did n t beat her this way, eh ? What was he doing ? How d it happen ?" " He attempted to steal her child from her, and she pursued him and quarreled with him. He abused her and she fled 14* 322 THE RAG-PICKER. back with her boy, and fell exhausted at your threshold. That s all that we know of it. lie s a heartless, miserable villain, and you 11 one day believe this, sir !" They gathered around the form of Nora Julie, and Katty, and Toney, and the boy, and the old cook, and half a dozen servants, for her paling cheeks and deadening eye told too plainly that the quadroon was passing away from the scene of all her earthly troubles. Brittan left the apartment. He could not stand by and see any body die ! He was a coward ! It reminded him too pointedly of his own latter end. He went into his middle room, and then into the library, beyond, and then into the front parlor, beyond that, and closed the door! Nora was dying! " She was a beautiful woman," he said to himself, " and cost me over two thousand dollars. Two thousand ! Cheap enough at that, if if ." But now she was dying. He was touched ! Anthony Brittan was doubly affected by this prospective accident. He was losing Nora, and two thousand dollars besides. But he had n t paid for her yet. This was some consolation ! " If Taskem s such an infernal fool," he continued, " as to run down a piece of property n this way run her to death, and murder her, for the sake of getting away her brat he must face the damage. I won t pay him one dollar for her, if she dies not one cent !" And he might have added, if she lives, either. For he had not a hundred dollars of unencumbered property, to his name, at that moment ! " Nora, Nora !" said poor Katty, sinking at her sister s side. " Nora ! speak to Katty, won t you ?" NORA S DEPART URK. 323 But the dying woman could not speak. The slightest pos sible exertion caused her to spit blood from her mouth, fear fully ; and only in one position could she lie at all, to rest with any show of ease. When a slave was taken sick, in the earlier experience of Brittan, he would order the invalid to be "doctored." Lat terly, under Taskem s and Beck s advice, he took no notice of their ills. His overseers insisted that " this was an indulgence that would spile every nigger he had ;" and when they failed or faltered, he advised his drivers to goad them up a little. " The whip s the best medicine they can have, I m satisfied. Keep em at work, and they never 11 knoio they re sick, any how !" insisted Brittan. But Nora was not deceiving him. Pie was clear in this. He would send for a doctor ! But Julie said it was useless. She was bleeding to death. And so she was ! The passion, the fear, the resentment, the pains that had been pent up for days and weeks in Nora s heart, when she saw the treachery of Taskem thus exhibited, had come forth at a gush. Like an unchained panther had she sprung upon the scoundrel who thus aimed to rob her, even after she had run, at her topmost speed, nearly a mile, to overtake him. And when she fled back, with her child at her side, she rushed away, like a startled hind, from his fearful grasp. In that race, she felt that her all was at stake ; and, forgetting aught but the hope of reaching the house in safety with her child, she exerted every muscle, eveiy fiber of her almost then exhausted frame, to save her darling boy, and " readied the goal But fell a martvr in her triumph." 324 THE RAG-riCKEK. " I reck n she wants ter say su thin ," suggested the old cook, who stood at her head. " Can we do any thing for yon, Nora ?" asked Julie, kindly, approaching the pallet on which she still lay, and, placing her ear to the sufferer s lips, she heard Nora whisper the name of her child. " Bring the boy here, instantly," said Julie. Buff was standing by his mother s death-bed in a moment, but he did not realize any thing. He saw that Nora lay speechless and helpJess, and he saw the clear red stream that oozed from her paling lips ! He saw the glassy eye, and knew she could not speak to him, but why this was so, or Avhat it all meant, he did not know. He said, " Poor mammy ! Poor Nora !" That was all. " Kiss her, darling ; kiss poor mamma," said Julie, drawing the boy up to the side of the cot upon which they had laid her. And the little fellow placed his lips close to hers who had nursed him, and nurtured him, and watched him, and pro tected him for six long years, and who died, at last, to save him from the fiendish grasp of a miserable wretch, whom she knew would sacrifice him to the cold mercies of the first heartless tyrant who would buy him ! He kissed the parched lips of the once beautiful Nora and he shrunk away from her. " Wot make em so cold ?" he asked, as he gazed with the rest upon her whitening face. The mother raised her hand, and Julie again kneeled down beside her. "Save him! Save ButFy ! Don t let em hab im ! Missey NORA S DEPARTURE. 325 Katty ! Save him always /" hissed the poor girl, wildly. And this effort was her last. A freshness at first overspread her features, then the deadly pallor succeeded that is unmistakable, as the moment of dis solution finally drew near. She smiled poor Nora smiled, softly, sweetly, calmly, in that last terrible moment, as if, when her spirit was leaving the flesh, the angels were hovering about her, and her sins had been forgiven. Her sister Katty held her hand in hers, and the pulse had ceased to beat. The bleeding had also stopped. There was no more struggling no choking no spasmodic frights and startings. All was still, and calm, and peaceful, and the spirit of the slave had been borne away to the sphere " where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest !" CHAPTER LVI. BRITTAN AND HIS "FRIEND." He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that! Tis an ill cure For life s worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow s held intrusive, and turn d out, There Wisdom will not enter, nor true power, Nor aught that dignifies humanity ! HENUY TATLOK. BRITTAN was greatly shocked at the accident to Nora, but tie soon rallied after the first feelings of surprise and disap pointment had passed by. When Taskem arrived at the house with his damaged head and face, the Englishman was again disturbed, and the slave-hunter quickly aroused him. "Where s ye re foreman, Mcttlcr ?" said Taskem, signifi cantly, as he came in. " Mettler ? I don t know. He s here, somewhere been here all the evening. What s the matter with you, Taskem." " Ye re sure he s been here all the evenin , arn t yer, Brit- tan, continued Taskem. " Yes that is, he s been here most of the time, since Nora returned." "That s jest what I m at. She s returned, eh? And fetched the brat with er, of course, eh ?" "Yes; and " BRITTAN AND HIS "FRIEND." 327 " Well, yer see these cuts, and this eye, yere, eh ? Wot d yer think o that, an that an this yere, now, Brift n 1 Arn t them rayther savage, eh ?" " What does all this butchery mean ?" " Mean ? W y, it means jest what I ve bin a tellin yer about these three years back. A mighty nice feller yer ve got ere, to be sure !" " Who ?" "ThisMettler." " What has he to do with it ?" " He s a thief a damn skulkin white-livered Yankee cut throat, Britt n. I ve told yer this long nuff. The two gals run arter us, an the horse baulk d, and Nory got the brat in her arms an run. I went arter er, an jest as I d got in reach ov her ha r, at wus strearnin out behind er as she went, I caught this knock, an this, an this, on the head ; an I fell in my tracks s if I wus dead ! He did it !" " Who ?" "Mettkr!" " Possible ?" " No doubt of it, w otever." " Did you see him ?" " No. But who else would ha bin thar, but this damn Yankee knave ?" " You must be mistaken, I think, Taskem." " Mistak n ! Is thar any mistake in these yere cuts and knocks ?" " I mean in the man, Taskem." " Not a bit ov it. Now I tell yer ag in, ef yer don t send that feller off, ye re a ruined man ; an yer can t dodge it. 328 THE RAG-PICKER. He s sp ilt Nappo, an lie s sp ilt the gals, too. An he ll sp ile the rest on em, sure s preachin . Sen fer a drop o whisky. I m drier n a corn husk." After gulping down a gill of this delectable poison, the slave-catcher said : , " Come ! I m better. I ain t hurt s bad as I might ha bin, but it staggered me, awful. Now my blood s up ; an I m bound ter hev that nigger brat ef I m shot for t. Whar s Nory?" " She s pretty bad, Taskem, pretty bad. She won t get up again, I m afraid." " Get up ? From whar ?" " She s bleeding like a stuck bullock, in the back room." " Bleedin ? Wot about ?" exclaimed Taskem, surprised. " Did she git hurt, too." " Sh ! Burst a blood vessel ; overexertion," said Brittan. "Ha, ha! That s er game, eh? Sen fer Beck! Sen fer Beck, Britt n. He 11 take that tantrum out on her. That s her sterics. She allers has sterics w en she s mad, allers. Beck 11 take em out on er quicker n yer d say scat /" " Do you think she s cheating us ?" " I know she is. He he !" chuckled Taskem ; " yer 11 git better quainted with er, bimeby, Britt n. Come, now, sen fer Beck, an see how quick he ll fetch her to her trotters, ag in." " But the bleeding, Taskem. She could n t feign that, could she i" " Spittin blood, yer mean ? That s nuthin . I Ve seen er do that by the our damn her ! Sen fer Beck." "I ll just step in and see how she is, first. I can t believe sho could deceive us thus. "Wait a minute." BRITTAN AND HIS "FKIEND." 329 Brittan quickly returned, and liis face was as white as his shirt ! "Wot now?" " Xora s dead, Taskem !" "Dead!" " Dead s a door-nail certain. Go and see for yourself," said Brittan. " Well I / don t want I don t want ter see no dead niggers. Arn t she sulkirf. Sure she s dead, eh ?" responded Taskem, as strange thoughts rushed upon his mind. " Sure she s gone, Britt n ?" The Englishman nodded his head, and added again : " Go and see, Taskem." " No no ! I shan t. / did n t kill her. I was doin doin just w ot yer told me ter do ; s no fault o mine, yer see, ov course, Britt n. It s bad luck but can t be helped, ef she s railly dead. It s onlucky, but / can t help it. On- lucky fer yer, cause it s two thousand dollars right out o yer pocket. Damn em ! they will die sometimes, the best ov em. You d oughter charge it ter Mettler. He s the cause ov all this. An I Ve bin a-tellin yer this, yer know, fer three year, an more." " I will get rid of that man, at once," said Brittan, firmly. " He s a bad fellow to have about this place, if he is a good farmer. I 11 get rid of him, to-morrow !" "That s right. That s talking right. He s p isoned all yer niggers, an they arn t wuth a straw. Sen him away, an Beck 11 git the boys inter trim agin, arter a wile." " I will. I 11 do it at once," said Brittan. " An now Nory s dead there 11 be no further trouble bout 330 THE RAG-PICKER. the boy," said Taskem, in a business-like way. * I 11 git him off in the niornin ." " Well perhaps it would be better to to a let Buff be for a few days a few days, Taskem, till this affair blows over. There s Katty, you see. Ratty 11 feel bad. What with Ndra s death, and " " There ye re weak agin, yer see. Wot the devil do IDC keer bout Katty s feelin bad, I d like ter know ? It s no bis ness o hern. Nory s dead. That can t be help d. I must git away ter-morrow, sarfn, boy or no boy." " Leave him, then, Taskem. Leave him. I don t want any more disturbance here at present. Leave him. His mother s gone, and there exists no longer a necessity that he should be taken away. I 11 keep him myself." " Very well, Britt n ; jest as yer say," replied Taskem ; " I m agreeable. But this don t pay me for the bruises I Ve got on his account, though." " We 11 make all right, Taskem," said Brittan, at last ; and the slave-hunter went to work to bathe his wounds in raw corn-whisky, while he applied an occasional half-tumbler full inwardly, " to keep the exterior application from making him faint," as he said ! Early next morning Taskem departed, with his head and face muffled in three or four huge handkerchiefs. His pros pect with Brittan was rather dubious. He owed him four thousand three hundred dollars, and this was about his entire fortune, if he had it ready in hand ! It was found impossible to raise another dollar upon the estate at Greenville, and the only hope that presented itself either to Brittan or Taskem, regarding the liquidation of the BRITTAN AND HIS "FRIEND." 331 latter s claim upon him, was the prospect the Englishman fan cied he had with Timothy Flash, Esq., whom he resolved Julie should marry as soon as the affair could possibly be accom plished. The remains of poor Nora were duly disposed of on the following evening, and Katty returned to the house after the burial of her sister, with the boy at her side, whom the mother had in her last moments committed so earnestly to her charge. Julie Manning was deeply affected by the unhappy result of Taskein s attempt to carry off the child, and she did not hesitate to speak freely and pointedly to Brittan, at the first opportunity, and to warn him again against the influence which this wicked man evidently exerted upon her guardian s peace and temporal well-being. And beside this, she had other reasons (of which Brittan was ignorant) for seeking an interview with him, at which she could speak freely and dutifully. Julie had never failed in respecting her guardian s author ity, and she had constantly striven to gratify him, and to com port herself obediently to his wishes ; but she never loved him. With all her best endeavors so to do, she found it im possible to feel any affection for the man, whom she found continually failing in his moral duties, and who persisted in his course of tyranny over those with whom she sympathized, in spite of all other associations and considerations that sur rounded her. But Brittan never listened willingly, and refused to yield the first jot in his determined thirst for petty power. He loved his new occupation, and she despised it with her whole 332 THE RAG-PICKER. soul. But she found herself compelled to submit to the force of circumstances, and she made the best of her unlucky po sition until she was old enough to judge better and more ma turely of right and wrong. Brittan s ward was now twenty years of age. She had lived among slaves and slave-power quite as long as she de sired to do. And she looked forward to the day, now close at hand, when she should be freed from further annoyance on this score, and from the heart-burnings with which she had been afflicted in consequence. CHAPTER LVII. JULIE S PARTING ADVICE, Marvel not at thy life! Patience shall see The perfect work of wisdom to her given ; Hold fast thy soul through this high mystery, And it shall lead thce to the gates of Heaven ! FAXSY KEMBLE BUTLEE. " I CAN never agree with you never," said Julie to her guardian, who had just reiterated his opinion that his present occupation was a laudable and honorable calling. " For years I have now passed through it with you, and have been the unwilling witness to too many of its dark phases and its daily abuses, ever to bring my mind to believe that it is either profitable, morally just, or merciful, in any of its ramifications. The sad scene now just closed, sir, confirms me in my earlier belief, that, at the best, slavery is a curse upon this people, and that you, Mr. Brittan, of all men, should be among the last to favor it, or be engaged in it." " This is a singular position for you to assume, Julie." " Not at all singular or novel with me, I assure you, sir. Have I not a thousand times expressed these sentiments to you, though perhaps not so decidedly ?" " Well, you ve talked and and chattered, and pitied the niggers, I know," said Brittan. " But as T ve a mind of my 334 T HE UAG-PICKER. own, I never allow children to influence me. You re a child, yet, Julie. You ve been a very good girl, thus far, and you mustn t turn abolitionist now ; it s too late too late, puss!" " From the hour when I first knew and realized that you had become a slaveholder, I have never changed the senti ments I then found naturally implanted in my breast," said Julie, boldly. " I have in no wise faltered as I have grown older, and had the opportunities I have since had to look at this subject as it is and though I have been compelled to be silent when my heart was almost breaking though I have witnessed the baneful effects of the unholy influences that have surrounded you, especially, for the past six years though the miseries and the oppression I have known directly around me have borne heavily upon my sympathies, when it was out of my power to alleviate the pains and the sorrows of the heart-stricken and weary I have, nevertheless, been passive and unobtrusive, lest I should wound the feelings or peril the personal interests of my friend, my guardian, my protector ! But the hour for silence is past, sir, and I must speak to you I must warn you now, though you drive me from your shelter, and banish me forever from your presence and your regard !" "Why, what the devil s all this? Julie, are you mad? What does it mean ?" " It means, dear guardian, that I am disposed to be a friend to you in the midst of your temptations and error. With the scene just closed fresh within your remembrance the death of poor Nora under such awfully impressive circum stances, how can you remain dead to the promptings of man s better nature ? Can it be possible that you, like that heart- JULIE S PARTING ADVICE. 335 less and wicked Taskem, can believe that these poor creatures are not possessed of hearts, and souls, and feelings, like our selves ?" " And is this the doctrine that you preach to them, too, Julie ? Have you so far forgotten your duty to me and to my interests as to broach this theory in their presence, for God s sake ?" continued Brittan, excitedly. " Have I housed, and fed, and clothed, and educated, and cared for you you, Julie, for six years as I have that you should turn upon me thus, at last, and sting me ? O " A pretty conceit of yours, is this, to be sure ! How do you know these niggers have any hearts, or souls, or feel ings ? How comes it, unless you have conferred with them secretly, that you know of their feelings and their murmurs ? What have / to do with their feelings ? They re my proper ty! I buy em, an pay for em," continued Brittan, wanning up as he proceeded, and evidently alarmed at his ward s untimely interference in his affairs. " The law gives me control of these niggers, when they be come mine. I purchase them. I pay my money for them, in good round hard dollars, and they become mine, girl ! Mine bodies, hearts, souls, feelings, every thing they possess ! Mine, to do what I will with them be it to daudle them and pet them, or to work, and whip, and scourge them, if I like ! And they can t complain, either. There is no appeal from our clearly legal right, in the premises. If they ve got hearts and feelings, why should we know it. We don t want their hearts, or their souls ! we want their bodies. We have to feed and support their almost worthless, lazy, lying, filthy carcases, from year s end to year s end, and that s all we know or care 336 THE RAG-PICKEU. any thing about. That is all / care about. If they behave themselves, they won t be abused much ; if they don t, we must force them to do well. And that s the upshot of the whole matter. They re our property poor property at that ! and we 11 do as we like with em, for the law upholds us in this, and it s a just, and equal, and righteous law, too. No, no, Julie ! You are too young to give us old heads ad vice upon these little points ; and I m surprised at your advocacy of these incendiary notions." " Is it possible, then, that you can, from habit, have so soon become callous to the sympathies that animate the better por tion of creation ?" said Julie, with a sigh. " Can it be, Mr. Brittan, that you will blindly pursue this miserable avocation, about the details of which you can know, comparatively, so little, and which must bring down pecuniary ruin upon your head, sooner or later ? Have you no heart to feel for the suf ferer the unfortunate slave who is thus down-trodden and abused ? And will you persist in aiding and abetting, with your capital and your influence, the furtherance of this un godly calling ? Have you no ears for the shouts of those who sink beneath the scourge of such brutes as Beck and Taskem ? No sympathies for the dying mother and the weeping little ones that she thus leaves behind her to the task-master s cold charity and heartlessness ? Are you deaf to all appeal ? And will you go on on, to destruction, your self, while you thus assist in crushing to the earth the poor wretches whom God has created, and to whom he has given living souls that must exist, like our own, for good or ill, to all eternity ? Oh ! guardian, be warned in time ! And, if I never again appeal to you, if these are the last words you ever JULIE S PARTING ADVICE. 337 hear your Julie utter, let me beseech you to turn from the error of your ways, and crave forgiveness of Him who holds our destinies in the hollow of His hands, and who is the great First Author of light, and life, and liberty, to all his creatures !" Poor Julie had thus performed what she conceived to be a final act of duty toward Brittan, but she might as well have saved her appeal ! Her words had no more effect upon his callousness than if they had been addressed to the empty walls of the room they sat in ! " She s a nice girl, is Julie," said Brittan to himself, as she disappeared. " A nice girl, and a very clever one. But she s got some queer notions into her pretty head. Flash 11 fix all that kind of nonsense for her. He knows women, does Flash ! And when she gets him, she 11 find that he 11 teach her a very different doctrine, to be sure, so he will. Here s his letter," continued Brittan, taking up the missive he had just received from that amiable gentleman, and reading it over again " He 11 be here to-morrow," continued Brittan, slowly. " He says he has no doubt that he shall be able to consum mate the agreeable object of his visit, within a fortnight ; and, under favorable circumstances, he will be ready to complete his business arrangements, so as to relieve me, forthwith. Very good, very good ! " Within a fortnight !" exclaimed Brittan. " Ah ! if my little minx imagined that she would be a wife within -a fort night from to-night, she d have something else to be thinking of, besides the stupid nonsense that seems just now to be troubling her girlish brain, to be sure. But she little suspects any thing of this sort, I m thinking!" concluded Brittan, folding up the letter again. 15 338 THE RAO-riCKER. The door opened, and Mettler suddenly presented himself before him. " I have come, Mr. Brittan," he said, " to give you notice that I have entered into engagements which will require me to quit your service at an early day ; and I presume you will soon find some one to fill my place here." " Yes, yes," stammered Brittan. " I suppose you were dis contented from certain reports that that have reached my ears, in reference to your conduct latterly, and I am not sur prised that you are desirous of change. You have done pretty well for me, but you are not severe enough, not stern enough ; that is, you re not master enough, Mettler, for this country, and you are wise in quitting it." " I have got along very well, I believe, sir without much trouble with the men ; and I hope they will hereafter continue to do as well, or even better, for you, under my successor, than they have done under me. I have been here, now, several years, sir. Your farm is in good condition, a large amount of aggregate labor has been performed upon it in that period, and you have received a full share of proportionate profit from it, I am certain." " Yes, yes. I find no fault no fault, sir." " I have accomplished all this with the aid of your men ; and, though I have been among them at all times, at all sea sons, in all kinds of weather, and under all ciicumstances, I never yet raised my hand against one of them, or had cause to do so ; and I believe there is not one of them who will not regret my absence." " Well, of that I know nothing, Mettler. We all have our faults, sir you have yours. But, no matter, you can go go, JULIE S PARTI XG ADVICE. 339 when you re ready. Beck will hereafter superintend the place, altogether ; he s competent, and will get as much out of the niggers as any body ever did, or can, I ve no doubt. I am not indebted to you, I believe ?" " No, sir. My salary is paid up to the present time. When can you conveniently permit me to leave, Mr. Brit- tan ?" " Whenever it suits your pleasure, Mettler. Any time ; to-night, if you like." " Thank you, sir," said Toney, respectfully. " Good-evening, Mr. Brittau." " Good-night," said the Englishman, dryly. And thus they parted. Toney had already informed Julie, accurately, regarding his own private history, and had explained to her satisfaction the reason for his change of name. He did not omit, either, to disclose to her the details of Brittan s early career, as he had gathered it from Nappo s lips, latterly, from time to time, which deeply interested her the more so, when she saw that Toney was related to her guardian so nearly ! Julie did not fail to make new suggestions to her lover, directly, having reference to the probability that his parents might perhaps be still living ; how it became his duty to search for them ; how it might render their declining days happy to know that their child their children were alive and prosperous ; and a hundred other arguments were ad vanced by Julie to influence and direct Toncy s mind toward his parents and his former home. But all this interchange of sentiments had been conducted gecretlv. Tonev still retaining his assumed name of Mettler, 340 THE RAG-PICKER. for his own purposes, for the present, and designing at the proper opportunity to undeceive old Brittan in his own chosen way. In the mean time, all the arrangements for his departure from Greenville had been made, and he would soon bid fare well to Kentucky and her abuses. CHAPTER LVIII. THE MIDNIGHT DRIVE. Breathe, breathe again, ye free, The air of liberty The native air of wisdom, virtue, joy ! And, might ye know to keep The golden wealth ye reap, Not thrice ten years of terror and annoy, And pitiless oppression, were a price too high ! J. HERMAN MEIUTALE. IT was a clear but dark niglit, and the young moon had set in the west two hours before midnight. Half a mile down the narrow road that led to the north west of Brittan s house, through a deep piece of woods, there stood a vehicle with a pair of strange horses before it. A man whose form only could be distinctly traced, and whose color could not be distinguished amid the darkness, came stealthily up with a large trunk upon his shoulder, which was carefully stowed in the rear of the carriage. Soon afterward he came again, with another similar package, and left the place quietly as soon as he had disposed of his burden. "No, Toney, I have not altered my mind on that point," whispered Julie, as she hung upon the arm of Mettler, be neath the shadows of their little arbor in Brittan s garden ; "I can not see that we ought to leave her and that child behind." 342 THE RAG-PICKEK. " Why not take them all, upon this same principle, then ?" said Toney. " I am quite as well inclined to assist the whole of them away, as to aid one or two. And I would to God every one of them were free to-night. But we must not you must not expose yourself to the rigor of that law which would implicate you as being accessory to Katty s escape, you see ; for the penalty is altogether too severe for the risk." " Well, I shall be advised by you, of course. But, oh, how can I leave poor Katty and Buff to their mercies ?" " There is a moral right, too, involved in this affair, you see, Julie. It is decoying from Brittan s rightful and legal pos session his property, his chattels, his goods, you know. That would be but simple theft, in fact ; and you don t feel am bitious to figure as a slave-thief, I take it, eh ?" " Your arguments, in this vein, won t weigh heavily with me, you know, Toney ; nor are you serious in your speech, I dare affirm, now. Where is Nappo ?" "Safe, I ve no doubt !" said Toney. " Where ? Safe, where, Toney ?" "That is more than I can tell you. I saw him but a few moments since, at the corner of the garden, yonder." " How is it that he is absent from his cabin, at this hour ? Is Beck aware of it ?" " Probably not," said Toney. " But I presume our move ments are not better known than are his. I will leave you here for a short time, and when I return again, you will be in readiness to say adieu to these precincts, eh ?" " Yes, Toney now, now." " I want to take leave of Nappo, and then I have done ! sh! Who is that?" THE MIDNIGHT DRIVE. 343 "Nothing but the wind." " Hark ! there is more than one footstep there," said Toney, peering out into the darkness. But Julie could see nothing, and Toney started across the garden, in the direction of the sound he had just heard. " Is that you, Nappo ?" " Yis, massa, yis," said the negro, in a whisper. " What are you doing out here, at this late hour 1 And Katty, too ? and the boy ? Does Beck know .you re here ?" " Reck n not, massa !" " Well, what are you after?" " A smell ob de fresh air, massa de fresh free air ob heb- ben, dass all ;" replied the negro, significantly. " Well, we re going, Nappo." " We ?" exclaimed the negro, " we w ot we, massa ?" " I had forgot. No matter, Nappo. Good-by. Good- by, Katty" and putting a purse in her hand " here s a little present from your mistress. Remember, Nappo, if you " " I member, massa. I nebber forget im. Got im marked down up dar, for sart n," said Nappo, putting his hand to his forehead "Lucj berg, Green Ribber, Harps ed, hio, free dom ! God bless yer, Massa Mettler. Good-by ! I see I see missy gwine, too he, he good-by !" And pressing the hand of Toney, the three slaves, Nappo, Katty and the child, disappeared amid the darkness of the night. As the old family clock struck the hour of twelve that night, Toney and Julie hastened down the narrow road, and took possession of the vehicle in which had previously been stowed the luggage mentioned. Five minutes afterward the 344 THE BAa-PICKER. horses started into a brisk trot on the way to the North, bearing Brittan s ward and her affianced lover from the scenes of their early acquaintance forever ! Brittan slept. He slept soundly, and easily, on his com fortable couch, and never dreamed of his poor creature " prop erty," as it huddled away among the straw and rags and filth of the flimsy cabin-shelters he provided it with ! Timothy Flash, Esq., had not arrived. Brittan confidently expected him, but he was disappointed. At an early hour the next day, however, he presented himself ; and the Englishman was rejoiced to see him. Julie was not present at breakfast. The two gentleman went out together for a little exercise, and to re-arrange the details of their plot. They were detained, and did not return to the house until noon. Meantime Beck supposed that Nappo was engaged in Toney s service temporarily. The rest of the household imagined " missus" was not so well as usual, and did not attempt to disturb her. Katty was her own especial attendant, and she was not inquired for. And finally the master and his flashy visitor returned. They en joyed a bottle of wine together, leisurely, after reaching the house again and then, for the first time, Brittan rang, and inquired for Miss Julie. She had not been down, that morning. This was singular unfortunate. Was she sick ? Nobody knew. Inquiries were then made, and her room was found empty ! Mettler had gone, too. And so had Katty, and the boy. And so had Nappo ! Not one of them could any where be found, or heard of ! THE MIDNIGHT DRIVE. 345 And then followed a scene of rare confusion within and without the dwelling of Anthony Brittan, Esquire ! " What does all this signify ?" inquired Mr. Flash, who began to suspect the truth, though he could scarcely bring himself to believe his fears. " This is more than I can answer, my friend. Surely $omc- thing extraordinary has occurred," said Brittan. By three or four o clock in the afternoon this matter had been looked into sufficiently to satisfy Brittan that Julie and Touey had fled, and he supposed that they had enticed away his missing trio of slaves, too. He could not, for the life of him, fathom this mystery, however \ for he had never enter tained the slightest idea that Julie had fancied his foreman and he could not, would not suffer himself thus to construe it. In the mean time, however, Toney had put nearly a hundred miles between himself and Greenville ; and he was still pushing on on with all the speed available, toward the Ohio River ; intending to proceed to Carthage where his marriage with Julie was to take place and thence to join old Davy and Came at their pleasant little home, near the village of E , in the State of New York. They met with no inconvenience or trouble, the journey was a pleasant but a rapid one, they reached their destina tion in safety, and were united in the bonds of matrimony. This part of their expedition having been duly consummated, they proceeded on their way, and finally reached , on the northerly side of the Ohio River where Toney advised a halt; that they might find any chance acquaintances, who might possibly turn up in that vicinity. 15* CHAPTER LIX. QUERIES, DOUBTS, AND FEARS. All true glory rests, All praise of safety, and nil happiness, Upon the moral law. WORDSWORTH. WHETHER Toney had rendered any further secret aid or counsel to Nappo and his associate fugitive friends, we are not advised ; and if he were cognizant of the intended move ments of that individual after he parted with him on the night that he himself left Greenville so unceremoniously, did not transpire ; but, from the conversation that passed between the slave and Brittan s foreman upon the farm, from time to time (after Toney informed him that he had concluded to leave Kentucky), it is certain that Nappo s geographical knowledge had been greatly sharpened, as subsequent events very clearly proved. How they reached Lewisburg unmolested it matters not, since this was the fact ; how they hastened on to Green River thence, and thence to Harpshead, without being discovered or suspected by the way, it is altogether immaterial to know. By what means or conveyance they traveled up the valley, and run the gauntlet through a horde of lynx-eyed man-trap pers dwelling in that region, who are ordinarily on the qui QUERIES, DOUBTS, AND FKARS. 347 vive there for runaways, it is needless now to inquire into. And how the three poor creatures, weary and worn down with travel and fasting, and apprehension and mishaps, arrived at length in the vicinity of Carthage, and, though starving, dared not approach the town lest they should be arrested on suspicion, we will now merely hint at. That Nappo and Katty and the boy did thus succeed in reaching the southern bank of the Ohio River, at length, is, nevertheless, true. And, as they gazed for the first time upon its placid waters, and saw and felt that that stream now only flowed between them and liberty, oh ! how fervently did the thanks of Nappo and Katty rise to their great Deliv erer for their preservation thus far, and for the calm but joyful promise that there lay directly before them ! But the last crust was gone. The child had long been wearied out and spirit-broken, for the little fellow could real ize nothing of his situation, and he cried for food where there was none to give, and where none could be had. The spirits of Nappo and Katty had been kept up by the prospect before them, though they too were fearfully hungry and weary, and foot-sore. Yet they journeyed on by night, and concealed themselves cautiously by day, until at length in safety they reached the shores of the Ohio. In the mean time, as soon as Brittan became satisfied that the slaves had actually decamped, he took r.ctive measures to reclaim them. Scouts were sent upon their supposed tracks, in every direction ; they were forthwith advertised in the county journals ; Beck himself started upon their trail, with orders to return them, dead or alive, to their master ; and every known measure was resorted to to recapture the fleeino- 348 THE RAG-PICKER. trio, and bring them back to bondage and the scourge for their audacity and offense, in thus presuming to choose free dom to servitude ! The following placard was posted liberally and conspicu ously in the towns through which it was presumed they would pass : STOP THEM I $500 REWARD ! ! RAN AWAY from the premises of the subscriber, on the night of the 13th instant, THJIEE slaves a man, woman, and child supposed to be helped away by a white man named Toney Mettler, a Yankee, from Connecticut. The man is a dark-colored negro, five feet ten inches high, stout and muscular, even-featured, and thirty-six years old appears younger. Is a little lame in the left leg, has a scar upon the right cheek, and a long narrow one upon the top of the head. His name is Nappo Duroc. Is a man of all- work. The woman is almost white, handsome, and delicately made, twenty years old, black eyes, and long black hair, very intelligent, five feet one inch high, was well dressed, and would pass for a white woman. She answers to the name of Katty. The boy is quite white, black curly hair, six years old, and is called Buff. Is pert and active, and calls the woman " anty." I will pay Jive hundred dollars for their recovery, or to any party who will lodge them securely in any jail in Kentucky (or elsewhere), where they can be found. AXTIIOXY BRITTAN. GREENVILLE, , 1S3-. But the most mortifying, crushing, unlucky event of Brit- tan s whole life, was the inexplicable conduct of his ward. To his mind it was monstrous ! He could conceive of no possible cause why Julie should thus desert him at all ; and he could not bring his mind to believe that she entertained any feelings of affection toward his late foreman. True, he had saved her life on a certain occasion, but he had himself ac knowledged, at the time, that he could not have helped doing this if he would ! Not the slightest evidence of the existence QUERIES, DOUBTS, AND FEARS. 349 of any attachment between them had he ever witnessed or dreamed of ! And this could not be ; it was impossible that Julie should have absented herself with him ! She was gone, however that was certain. It might be that, in her sympathy for Katty and the boy (ah ! how Brit- tan now wished that he had never seen the quadroons and the child !) it might be that, for the sake of aiding them, she had forgotten her duty to him, and had left, temporarily only, to assist Katty and Buff to escape directly or indirectly perhaps. Even this was unpardonable. Yet Julie might return, he thought. That is, he hoped she would. And she might explain herself. At any rate, she would certainly come back again. There could be no doubt upon this point. She would come back and claim his forgive ness for her short-sightedness and folly, and foolish sympathy for the cursed niggers, that had given him so much trouble, and which were not yet paid for ! Then he would have her at his mercy ! That was it capital ! " It is an ill wind," ex claimed the desperate man, " that bodes nobody good !" And thus old Brittan continued to argue : " Julie will return. She has committed a very serious fault. She is amenable to the law to the law which she has thus ruthlessly and foolishly violated. In her silly girl ish sympathy for what she calls the " oppressed," she has forgotten all else. She has overlooked the fact that we have rights that / have rights ! She has gone too far too far !" continued Brittan, slowly. " But it is well very well, as it is. I will play my own game, now. "As soon as she returns I will calmly calmly lay before hev the heinousness of the offeusp she has committed, nnd T 11 350 THE KAG-PICKEK. show her how I could (if I chose to be severe with her) I 11 show her how I could a punish her ! This will do excel lent ! She 11 be alarmed, of course fearfully alarmed be cause she knows when Anthony Brittan says he will accom plish any thing he is not easily turned from his purpose. She will repent of her error, ask forgiveness ask my forgive ness ha ! ha ! and I will grant it. I will receive her to my arms again ; I will promise her my protection again (though she has so deeply offended), and I will not visit upon her head the punishment she has thus evidently merited upon one condition !" concluded Brittan, springing to his feet. " I have it now I have it ! I will forgive and pass over her offense but she must instantly marry my friend, Timothy Flash, Esquire." Such were the flattering imaginings that Brittan coined for himself in the midst of the ruin which now really encom passed him, but which he could not yet see clearly. His last scheme for the propping up of his falling fortunes was the accomplishment of Julie s union with his dissolute but rich friend, who would accommodate him with the loan he re quired when he brought this matter to the desired crisis. But it suddenly occurred to Brittan suppose that Julie did not return ? He did not give the suggestion much consideration, for the answer to this rather pointed query was brief and final he feared ! In the event that Julie had run aAvay, too in case she did not return to Greenville (which she would, he believed, of course) why, then Anthony Brittan, Esquire, was totally and irretrievably ruined ! This was final and conclusive. QUERIES, DOUBTS, AND FEAES. 351 Mr. Flash looked upon the whole of the proceedings as being "peculiarly extror nery," to use his own expression. He could not see how so beautiful a girl could possibly have been tempted to elope with the buffoon Brittan described To- ney to be ! As to her sympathy for niggers, he did not know what kind of a feeling that was, railly. He had been among niggers all his life, and he had never seen any treatment ex tended to the poor devils except what appeared to be " about the thing," all things considered. To be sure, occasionally he had met with " a cross-grained" rascal among em that had to be tied up to a beam by his thumbs and scored, almost daily, to make him work, when he strove to make his master believe he was sick. And he had known of one or two she-niggers that had to be stripped reg ularly of a morning and laced down with a raw-hide, to fetch them to their business. He had even heard of instances in " breaking the brutes in," where they were " brought down to it" by a flaying of thirty or forty lashes of an afternoon, but the effect, usually, was only to give the rascal a " stinging appetite" for his corn-mush, a night ! He had never heard of but one or two instances of whipping a nigger to death, absolutely, but that was in Georgia, where he had run away twice and had been caught again by the dogs that were sent after him. When the driver got him home the last time he had had a mighty deal of trouble with him before, and he was naturally a little mad when he was brought in he struck him an unlucky blow on the temple, and the fool fell down, and and did not get up again, at all ! " As to sympathy for em," contimied Mr. Flash, with a flourish of his huge watch-seals, " / hain t any for. em, no- 352 THE RAG-PICKER. how, cause it s no kind o use, whatever. Natur s made women soft-headed as well as soft-hearted. They talk about sufferin , and abuse, and hardships, and all that, as ef they know d what they wus chattering about. Yer never hear em say nothin about busing horses, and cattle, and dogs ! Queer creeturs, these women. They make a distinction, yer see, Brittan, twixt the different kinds o cattle. I never see the philosophy of this, myself never," concluded Mr. Flash. But the bird had flown. No clew was had to the fugitives, for several days. Mr. Flash got tired of waiting for Julie s reappearance, and he took leave of his friend, at length, promising to return again whenever Brittan would inform him, by post, of the capture of the runaways or the arrival of his ward. And Brittan sat down to await the coming of Julie, who had then been three days a wife ! CHAPTER LX. PASSING THE RUBICON, Now, though evening shadows blacken, And no star courses through the glooin, On we move, nor will we slacken Sail, though verging t wards the tomb. Bright beyond, on heaven s high strand, Lo, the lighthouse ! land, land, land ! JAMES MONTGOMERY. " BAR tis ! dar tis ! Praise de Lord, Katty ! Dar s de hio ribber, fer sart n !" " D yer know it, Nappo ? Do yer know dat s de hio ?" queried Katty, as they passed out from the top of a rock, a mile to the southward of the water, but from which they could plainly see a broad bend in the river. " Are you sure on it ?" " It can t be nuff n else, Katty ; can t be, you see. Ere we ve bin mose a week coniin up, norf norf, all de time. Dat muss be de hio ; an soon s it git dark gin, bless God ! we 11 cross ober, an den we s in de free land altogedder, for- ebber an ebber, tank de Lord !" " But how s yer gwine ter git ober dar ?" asked Katty. " How s yer gwine ter do dat ?" This question rather puzzled Nappo. He could not answer 354 THK RAG-PICKER. it. He did not know precisely where they were, but he fell sure that that stream must be passed before he could really begin to be free again. They had found Green River, as they expected to do, and had left it far away to the eastward. He was sure this was the Ohio. It was now nearly noon. They had been skulking since daylight. Buff had been kept quiet latterly only by constant threats that the Buckra-man was after them all ; and though he was nearly starved, and sick, and worn out with the hard ships he had just experienced, he still held up, and was as quiet and cautious as he could well be. Katty did not complain. She had never known what it was to breathe " free" air, but she had for twenty years expe rienced its opposite ! She was content to abide the result, and craved the change, at least by way of experiment ! Nappo had known the sweets of temporary liberty; and oh ! how his heart yearned once more for the bright sunshine and gentle skies beyond, and to behold, perhaps, the smiling faces of those whom he remembered in his earlier years, and who came and went when they would and as they would, without being subject to the frown and the scourge of an un relenting and brutal task-master ! Before nightfall, Nappo had quietly gathered together a mass of small logs, that had been cut for steamboat uses, near the river s edge, with which he commenced to construct a rude raft. He had no implement whatever except a pocket- knife that he had taken with him, and which served him to cut and split a few young saplings, with which he at last bound the ends of the logs together. In this work he was unobserved ; and diligently did he PASSING THE RUBICON. 355 labor to prepare the rough mass of wood, and secure it in a body, so that it should serve to sustain the weight of himself, and Katty, and the boy, across the river. And Katty was not idle by any means, in the mean time. Though she had been unused to such rude treatment and such toil, she aided Nappo in arranging the logs, and in tying them together ; and when one parcel had been so secured, a similar layer of sticks was placed cross-wise upon the others, for greater strength and safety ; and finally, beneath the rays of the softly-shining moon, at midnight, with no eye upon their movements save His " who shelters the fatherless, and succors the distressed of all nations," the humble refugees embarked upon their doubt ful vovage. / O The wind was blowing freshly from the southwestward. The only peril they now stood in fear of except discovery from the shore, possibly was that of being run down by the steamboats that were then passing up or down the river. As these came and went but seldom, they hoped to get across the stream without being injured in this way. As they were destitute of oar or sail, however, there was no way to avoid this jeopardy, and they were compelled to take the risk, and trust to their fate. With difficulty and hard toiling only did they at length get their somewhat cumbrous raft afloat for it had been con structed too far from the water s edge. They finally saw it in the river fairly, and, with a last prayer for eventual success, they stepped upon their reeling, swaying bark, and pushed out from the shore, toward the State of Illinois. The raft very soon fell into the current of the river. Nappo had provided himself with a thin slab of wood, which he 356 THE RAG-PICKER. thought might answer the purpose of a rudder (for lack of any thing better), and with which he continued to paddle the raft on a little to windward, as it continued to float down the stream. By the aid of this and the fresh breeze that blew from the Kentucky shore, they continued on, in safety, and prosperously, and every moment every stroke of his huge, clumsy paddle, bore them nearer and nearer to the land of liberty ! " We 11 git dar ! we 11 git dar, Katty, sure s de Lord libs in heb n !" said Nappo, dashing his paddle into the water, steadily and firmly, while the raft moved slowly but cer tainly forward to the opposite shore, though it continually floated down stream at the same time. " We 11 git dar, Katty ! Bress de Lord, fer dis fer dis dark night, an dis raft, an eb ry ting in dis worl !" exclaimed the poor, struggling, starving, almost exhausted Nappo ! " We 11 be dar n a few minits, an den soon s we put foot on dat ar shore yonder, den we s free -free ! Katty ! Free, for ebber an ebber more !" " Ef dey duzz n t cotch us ag in, Nappo." " Cotch us ! Ha, ha ! Dey 11 nebber cotch dis chile no more. No, no ! Tank de good Lord, I knows em ; an ef dey ebber cotches Nappo gin, he nebber 11 run off from em no more, fer sart n dass a fack. But we 11 see f dey cotch urn !" An eddy that made in shoreward drew the raft within its circle at this moment, and, as it swung round, a heavy steamer hove suddenly in sight from below the point, coming up the river at a sharp speed, almost directly upon the raft. Nappo and Katty were seriously alarmed, as the great pon- PASSING THE RUBICON. 357 derous vessel came thumping on, -with its two noisy high- pressure engines, lest they should be run down and dashed in pieces by the monster-paddles. But the steamer wheeled around the point, shot up again into the main current, and left a rushing wake behind her that only served to drive the raft ashore within the next three minutes, in perfect safety ! " Bress God ! Praise de Lord, Katty ! Quick, quick ! come* along, fast s you ken up dis way ! Up yere up yere !" ex claimed Nappo, as he seized with one hand a hand of the girl, and with the other grasped the little wrist of Buff, and hast ened away from the shore. " Come long, come long, an bress God all de time ! We s in de land ob liberty, an free dom, an Hail Columby, an de Declerash n ob Independence, fer sart n ! Come long, den, Katty. We s all safe an soun , now, praise de Lord ; an we 11 fin fren s up yere come long !" And away hurried the trio, as fast as their wearied limbs would permit, though Nappo had n t the slightest idea where he was going, or when he would stop ! But, at the same time, he felt sure that he had crossed the Ohio Eiver ; and somebody had impressed the truth pretty strongly upon his mind that when this object was attained he might calculate with certainty that he was on the right " side of Jordan !" And the heart of Katty leaped for joy, too, as she fled, though she was fearfully worn down with the extraordinary exertion to which she had been subjected for the last week. Was the atmosphere clearer than that she had ever breathed before ? Was the climate she was now in so different from that to which, for twenty year s previously, she had been ac customed to ? Were the skies more genial, and were the breezes more balmy and invigorating ? Or, was it merely the 358 THE KAG-PICKEE. consciousness that she was free, that so exhilarated her, and caused her to forget her bruises, and pains, and bodily ills, while she still bounded on, on, on ! singing praises to Him who had borne her and her associates thus safely through the wilderness the desert the shadows of bondage, to the green pastures, and the light and the joy of liberty ! Welcome ! welcome, then, ye poor despised, down-trodden sufferers a thousand times, welcome to Freedom s shores ! It may be that your pursuers, the wretched hounds that even now scent your tracks, and who are striding far and fast to seize upon you it may be that they will yet place their fiend ish gripe upon you, and that you will but have tasted the air which has so charmed you ere they fall upon to destroy you. Hasten, then ! Away, away ! Fly, Nappo, for your life ! Halt not, fair Katty, until a wider margin is left behind you. For they who seek to crush and devour you life, and body, and soul are almost within reach of the sound of your weary, wavering footsteps ! On, on ! Tarry not falter not slacken not a jot in your speed, for the enemy is abroad, and the chances may be against you, even while you are thus confident in the hopes that buoy you so gloriously up ! Away, Nappo ! Away, Katty ! The route you have chosen is the right one. Away ! and God speed you on your errand ! CHAPTER LXI. NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES. Alas! I have nor hope, nor health, Nor peace within, nor calm around, Nor that content, surpassing wealth, The sage in meditation found ! SHELLEY. A BUSY week had passed, and Beck had returned to Green ville alone. " No news of them ?" asked Brittan. " Not a word, sir. They re gone, sure. No offense to yer, Mr. Brittan, but I allers reck n d that that Mettler was a med dler, as well. He d p izen a gang o niggers n less time n I could count em ! He d a heap o mighty fine words in his mouth, an he was oncommon smart at some things ; but he was n t the man fer this bis ness, no how. Too soft a heap too soft." " I am satisfied of that," responded Brittan. " It was a most unfortunate circumstance that we ever saw him, to be sure. There s no doubt he helped Nappo and Katty off." " Not the least. That s clear," said Beck. "Letter, massa," said a negro, entering at this moment, bringing a missive that had just come down by mail. Beck retired, and Brittan hastened to break the seal. It was from 360 THE RAG-PICKER. his late foreman, and covered another addressed to Brittan, in Julie s handwriting. With a trembling and nervous hand he held the documents to the light, and read as follows : " ANTHONY BRITTAN : " When this letter reaches you, I shall be far beyond the reach of your resentment and your frowns, and you will have had leisure to reflect upon the parting words I addressed to you, at the last interview I shall probably ever have with you, in this world. " Though now separated from you, I think, forever, I can not feel that I am justified in leaving you without some ex planation of my conduct toward you and yours, lest you might labor under misapprehensions in regard to me and mine. This, then, is my apology if any be necessary for this com munication. " From the hour I entered until I left your employment, I aimed to do my whole duty toward you, as well as to those whom you placed within my control. How well I acquitted myself in the not over-pleasant task that fell to my lot, I leave to you to decide. I am conscious of no remissness, and you best know of the results of my efforts for your interests. " Surrounded as you were, and still are, by unfortunate in fluences and bad advisers, you could not succeed, in a pe cuniary view, and you never will. I saw this, and I attempted to advise you against your pursuit ; you scouted my warnings, you deemed me selfish and unworthy of your confidence, but you will find, sooner or later, who is right and who is in error. Here, again, for the last time, let me say to you in all candor and earnestness and hope for your eventual weal, that NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES. 3G1 you are following a phantom, that will lead you to ruin, at last, unless you halt while you may, and retrace the steps you have so recklessly taken ! " I served you to the extent of my best abilities, and my efforts, for the time being, were not unsuccessful in your behalf. But you did not appreciate me ; and when I considered that I had fully repaid your original kindness toward me in offering me employment, I felt that I had the right to leave it after I had sickened of the annoyances and the misery which its sur roundings had imposed upon me. " When I quitted Greenville, I did not go alone. I had long since made myself acquainted with your heartless and obdurate disposition, and I knew, without asking to be directly informed thereof from your lips, that you would flout at any pretensions which I might venture to make toward the hand of Julie Manning your ward. Yet I dared to love her, sir ! And more than this, she dared to respond to that love, with all the fervor of her youthful but womanly heart. You knew nothing of this, for she feared your ire. She knew how you had cast from, and driven to distraction, or death, perhaps, your only child, in years gone by ! She had learned, as I did, how you had discarded and disowned your daughter, Annie Ellson ! how you had crushed her hopes, and her very being and she avoided you, lest you should visit upon herself similar injustice, and a like exhibition of your inexorable ruth- lessness. " Julie Manning confided in me, sir. She left your roof with me, and she alone, and she is now my lawful wife. When you read these lines we shall be far away toward my early home a home of liberty, sir where we can dwell in 16 362 THE RAG-PICKER. peace and quiet,undcr wholesome laws, and where we shall unit edly pray for your repentance, and your release from the cruel bonds that now confine you mentally, socially, and pecuniarily. " You will start at what now follows here but you may rely upon its truthful accuracy. I do not ask forgiveness at your hands, for I have never sinned against you, in thought or deed. I have but followed my destiny and the events of my life I can only marvel at. But, believe me, sir, that your own blood runs, legitimately, in the veins of him who now ad dresses you this letter ; that the Toney Mettler you have known for the last few years, is the son of Henry and Annie EUson the latter your discarded, ruined daughter ! " I go to seek my parents, in the hope that they still live, and will not disown me, as you have disowned them. And, with a final prayer and hope that you may relent and be happy even yet I am Your Grandson, " TONEY ELLSON." Brittan sprang to his feet ! The letters fell from his hands. His sight failed him his brain grew dizzy he strode the room in a paroxysm of rage ! "It is false false ! damnably, stupidly, villainously false !" he exclaimed, between his clinched teeth. " He s a miserable, cheating, lying Yankee, and he always was ! I always knew he was ; I always said he was always always always ; curse him ! Curse him curse her. Ah ! what a miserable, ignorant, inexcusable fool have I been, that I did not, years ago, take Taskem s advice, and kick this sneaking, cowardly thief out of my house ! Why, and how, have I thus been de ceived and over-reached ! NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES. 363 " Grandson /" lie exclaimed again, " ha, ha ! Why, what a piece of ignorance and impudence combined is this ? And what has the rogue made it all out of ? So arrant a piece of knavery I have never seen as this ! So, he claims relationship, too ha, ha, ha ! He wants money money. He wants my money ; a portion of my estate ! He tells me, thus season ably, that he he is my relative, in order that I shall re member him and her her in my will, I suppose ! Oh, but I 11 remember him ! I won t forget him. I won t I won t forget this lying thief !" And then he strode the apartment wildly, again, and beat the carpet with his foot, and halted, and stood aghast, and fumed, and swore, and raved like a caged tiger. " And she s his wife ! Julie s married him," he continued. " This is the unkindest cut of all ! I could have borne his impudent and audacious assumption of relationship to me, be cause that would n t have harmed me unless the thief ob tained credit on account of it. I 11 advertise him ! I 11 post him ! He sha n t no, no ! She shall never profit by this infernal cheat never ! I could have borne all this, though, had Julie remained true true to me. Bah ! She s a woman, a girl, a a daughter ! Why did n t I know she would cheat me, too ? I did. I knew she would. I always knew she would, if she got the chance. I always said she would ! And what comes next ! Whither shall I now turn ? She has married this clown, evidently. My prospects with Flash are are not so good as they were," said Brittan, slowly. " But her letter. I had forgotten that. Here it is." Taking the unopened communication, and breaking the seal with forced cnlmness. he read as follows : 364 THE RAG-PICKER. "DEAR MR. BRITTAN: " At the earliest moment convenient to me since I left your hospitable dwelling, I offer you my respectful adieux. " I deem it necessary to enter into no detail in explanation of my conduct. It will be sufficient for you to know that Mr. Ellson offered me his hand, I accepted it, and he is now my lawful husband. I left Greenville, where I have never been happy, and shall now exchange rny residence for a home in a free laud, to which, when I left my own native country, my father certainly supposed he was consigning me. " You subsequently chose to leave New England, and to dwell in a portion of the country to which I could never have consented to accompany you, under any circumstances other than those which compelled my acquiescence at the time. You have not been unkind to me, personally, and I thank you for all your attentions, your protection, and your favors. " My father informed me upon his death-bed, that he should place in your hands such an amount of ready money as should be ample to supply all my wants, during my minority ; and I presume he did not omit to redeem this important promise, inasmuch as he died possessed of several thousand pounds sterling, in cash, and I was his only heir. I trust you have been fully remunerated, pecuniarily, therefore, and presume that you are satisfied that I have never, in this respect, been a burden to you. " In all candor, then, I leave Greenville with few regrets. Would to God I had been able to have influenced you to agree with me that your business there is as unjust as I think it has proved to you unprofitable ! Would that you could have been induced, years since, to have yielded to my earnest NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES. 3G5 and repeated desires that you should relinquish that unholy calling ! Would that you could have been brought to believe, in time, that you were unfitted, by birth, and education, and your own experience, for the office of a slave proprietor ! You would not listen to counsel ; you scouted friendly advice ; you scorned all appeals, and the future is before you ! " I have performed my duty toward you, in all honesty and humility. I would have helped to save you from the ruin which I have long feared so seriously threatened you, but you never permitted it. I will pray for your happiness, and for your escape from your perils, and leave you to the mercy of that righteous Judge who deals with all His creatures with -a just and even hand. " If I have erred, forgive me ! And if we never must meet again in this world, let us hope to meet in a better sphere, where we shall know no sorrow and feel no pain, if we live here to the acceptance of our Father in heaven ! Adieu, adieu ! And believe me ever your well-wisher, " JULIE MANNING- ELLSON." The letter fell from his hand, and he sat mutely gazing at it as it lay on the floor. It was not strange that at such a mo ment his thoughts reverted, almost mechanically, to the time when his own daughter Annie left him for the man she loved. All his deeply cherished vengeance had come to this ! Her son, too ! He felt the strong gripe of retributive justice tight ening round his throat. It strangled the new fury which his heart gave birth to. It was, he felt, the beginning of the end. The game was up. His curses had come home to roost. Overpowered, as bv an avalanche, Anthony Brittan sat 360 THE RAG-PIC KER. crushed and senseless. A thousand thoughts and suspicions shot through his mind, but they were so vague and gloomy that he was stupefied, incapable of any one distinct idea. He had been sitting thus motionless for some time, when he be came conscious that Taskem was in the room. That worthy had slipped in silently, and was staring at him with mingled curiosity and alarm. " How are yer, Britt n ?" he said. " How ar yer ? an what the devil s the matter ?" " Nora is dead," said Brittan, rousing himself with a great effort, " Katty and the boy have run aAvay ; I can t pay you your forty-three hundred dollars, Mr. Taskem. Nappo s gone with em. Four of the nine last slaves you bought me have died since their arrival at Greenville. My prospects, Taskem, are none of the brightest," " But, what a what d yer mean about not payin for em, Brittan ? What s their runnin off, arter I delivered em to you, to do with me, for God s sake ? Did n t I do all I greed too, eh ? Say f I did n t ?" " I suppose you did, Taskem. But you can t very well ex tract blood from a stone. I have n t got one hundred dollars in the world, except what s invested in my estate and the live stock here. You know how that is now situated. / can t raise a dollar more upon it. If you can, do so, I 11 sign the mortgage any day." " This marriage yer spoke about with Flash and the gal ?" " She is gone, too !" replied Brittan, speaking with savage, but cold emphasis. " Yes but she 11 come back, of course." " Never, Taskem. She is already married " NEWS FROM THE ABSENTEES. 367 "Married /" exclaimed Taskem, springing to his feet. " To whom ?" "ToEllson." Who s he P* "Mettler." " Mettler JEllson ? How s this ?" urged the trader. " He says his name is Ellson ; that the name of Mettler was only an assumed one for his own purposes, which he will not explain. He has run away with my ward, married her, and they re gone to Massachusetts to live." " Then you Ve seen him ?" " No. Heard from him, by post, and from her at the same time. There are the letters." Taskem was in an unlucky fix at this moment. The crisis had arrived earlier than he wished, and ruin stared him in the face. The bonds and mortgages that Brittan had given were, in part, already due, and they covered every particle of available property then in his hands. He had confidently calculated upon obtaining from Flash the fifteen thousand dollars which they had talked of, because, in his ignorance and supposed authority over the person of Julie, he had never dreamed that he should not be able to wed her (as he could his slaves) to any one that pleased his fancy. This hope was suddenly cut off, and the very " last link was broken" that afforded him any prospect of pecuniary assistance. " Ef yer don t pay me that ar money, Brittan," said Task- em, after having perused the letters, " I m a ruined man smashed broke, sure s preaehin !" " I am sorry, Taskem," said Brittan, " but the thing s im possible," 368 THE RAG-PICKKH. Taskem arose and began to walk the room rapidly. He was getting excited. This blow was a terrible one for him. His pecuniary all was involved in this speculation, and he saw no way to save himself! Brittan said nothing more, but calmly watched the work ings of the slave-hunter s countenance. It was a study for him, and he loved it. He loved to see others in trouble, oa the common principle that "misery likes company." The Englishman continued to gaze at his " friend s" face, as if he could read what was going on in the trader s mind. " What the devil yer ever kep that rascal yere fer s more n / know," said Taskem, breaking out at length from the midst of his meditations. " Who ?" asked Brittan, quietly. " That Mettler." "IZllson, you mean," continued Brittan. " I mean the scoundrel at has run away with the gal, an carried off the niggers, too, at the same time. That s who I mean." Brittan shook his head, as if lie would have said, " Don t you, Taskem don t bo severe on me !" but he did not reply. His thoughts were far away from Greenville. He was thinking of the singular freak of fate that had thrown Toney upon his acquaintance. He was thinking of his former experience, of New England, of Annie, of Henry Ellson whom he had ruined, of Nappo s trial and return to slavery, of his subsequent fortune, of Julie, and Toney Toney Ellson, his grandson ! Verily, his career had been a checkered one ! CHAPTER LXII. THE ELLSON S AT HOME. Has HOPE, like the bird in the story, That flitted from tree to tree, With the Talisman s glittering glory, Has Hope been that bird to thee ? THOMAS MOOEE. HENRY ELLSON was sitting with, his wife iii their cozy little room, at home, and the " tea-things" had just been removed from the table. Annie brought him his pretty wrought slip pers, that she had worked for him with her own hands, and at the same time handed him the morning paper, which he only found leisure to read after he came home, at evening, from his counting-house duties. Annie had long since given up her dreary routine of labor in the employ of the magnanimous and " enterprising" estab lishment that paid such enormous wages to its poor work women, for Ellson refused to allow her to ply the needle Avhen he was doing so well. " What s become o the pretty woman that used to be here so regularly, and who did her work so nicely ?" asked the head of the house, who missed Annie s weekly visits, at last. " Which one, sir ?" asked the cashier. " We ve so many pretty women about T don t know which our* you refer to." 370 THE RAG-PICKER. " She with the neat little shawl and plain drab bonnet, who earned, some weeks, nigh two dollars, I think." " Oh, yes ! I don t know where she is, sir." " She s retired, I ve no doubt," continued the principal, "on her fort n. She must have made a good deal of money, first and last, and I 11 be bound, if she could be found to-day, she d declare in your face that clothiers starved and worked their hands to death, and did n t pay em for their labor ! The ungrateful creeturs !" Henry read all the latest intelligence to her, while she drew out the embroidery she was working, and sat down at his side. First, there Avas the long, dull, heavy " leader," upon poli tics and the prospects of the country. Then came the briefer articles upon the " local news of the day." And then the " accidents" by land and sea. And then the summary of " all sorts." And then the " very latest" items. And then crib- bings and " extracts from our exchanges." Suddenly the eye of Ellson fell upon a paragraph that startled him from his customary calmness and propriety, exceedingly ! " What s this what s this !" he exclaimed. And he trembled violently as he hurriedly read the following : " Many of our citizens will remember the case of the slave, Nappo Duroc, who was arrested in this city a few years since, at the resi dence of our then respected townsman, Anthony Brittan, Esq., of B street, at the instance of his master (one Taskem, if we recol lect rightly), and who, upon trial, was convicted and remanded back to servitude. " By a late Lexington (Ky.) paper, we learn that this KTappo had been purchased by Mr. Brittan (who, by the way, went South a few years since, and embarked his handsome fortune in a fine plantation, it is said). Nappo was one of Brittan s favorite servants, and, having THE ELLSON S AT HOME. .371 lived with him several years at the North, was found very useful hi Brittan s new establishment. "It appears that a short time ago he was enticed away from his master, in company with a mulatto woman and child. A young man named Toney Mettler, a distant relative of Brittan, and who had been his foreman a considerable time previously, is charged witli being ac cessory to the slaves escape. A reward of $500 is offered for the re covery of the three fugitives, who, at last accounts, had not been heard of from the night they were first missed. " As this is the second time that Nappo has escaped from bondage, it is doubtful (if he crosses the Ohio), whether his master ever again recovers him. The advertisements in the Kentucky journals are signed by Anthony Brittan, whose pecuniary loss must thus be very considerable. It is thought that the fugitives have fled directly to Canada, this time, where there exists no law for their recovery." " What do you think of that, love ?" asked Ellson, laying dowu the paper. " That is your father, evidently. You re member Nappo, of course ?" " Yes, indeed, do I," responded Annie. " Can it be possible that father is a slave-master ?" added the wife, with singular emphasis. " So it appears by this paragraph, and I have no doubt of the accuracy of it. It corresponds well, you see. There s Mr. Brittan Anthony Brittan not a common name, at all, you know and Nappo, his old house-servant ! The happy, jolly, good-natured negro, who ordered your carriage, love, the night that we rode to Providence, on a certain occasion. You remember eh ?" added Henry, with a smile. " Yes, yes. I remember Nappo very well, and with grati tude, too. He was a most excellent servant." " It all seems very clear to my vision, Annie," said Ellson, " perfectly so. Your father went South after Nappo was car ried off. He knew the boy s value, and when he bought his 372 THE RAG-PICKER. slaves he evidently looked about for him. It was an easy thing for Mr. Brittan to communicate with the person who took Nappo away from Massachusetts, because your father must have known all about the circumstances of the case at the time of the arrest, and very likely had his eye upon pur chasing Nappo at the very first opportunity when he should go aAvay himself for it is not probable that he made up his mind thus to change his place of residence and his mode of life upon a moment s consideration." " I see I see," replied Annie. " And so, when he reached his destination in Kentucky, or wherever he went, he sought out this Taskem perhaps he had been in communication with him previously and ob tained from him the slave that he coveted, undoubtedly." " Yes ; that is it, probably." " And as to its being possible (as you just suggested) for your father to have become a slaveholder, why, I really do not think such a thing impossible, by any means. Do you, love ?" " Still, Henry, he is my father" said the noble-hearted An nie, feelingly. " Right, right, Annie. Pardon me. You know I never mean to speak in terms of disrespect of him, for that reason." " But this Toney Mettler? continued Annie. " What can that mean ?" " I do not comprehend that," said Henry. " A distant relative of Brittan s," continued Annie. " Yes, I observed that, too." " It surely can not be our Toney, Henry ?" added the wife, earnestly, and with more excitement than she was accustomed to exhibit under ordinary circumstances. THE ELLSON S AT HOME. 373 " Ob, no ! No, love," said Ellson, quickly perceiving his wife s agitation. " No, indeed ! Do you think your father would have been very likely to have retained an Ellson in his employ several years ?" " No. But you will notice that it is Mettler not Ellson Toney Mettler, the advertisement says." " Yes, I see. How can that be our Toney, then ?" " I m sure I don t know. " But," continued Annie, with all a mother s determined pertinacity, " might not our Toney have changed his last name in some Avay ? Toney is not a common name, at all." " That might be that may have been," replied Henry. " And he could n t have been censured for that act, assuredly, for his father had brought shame upon the name, and and it would not be strange." " Well, I don t mean that, Henry, at all," said Annie, in stantly rallying her husband, who thus voluntarily went fur ther back in his own personal history than she cared to hear. " I don t mean that. We don t know what became of the boy, and of Carrie, you see. And why may not they both have changed their final name to Mettler, for instance (or any thing else), unwittingly, perhaps, or for some good purpose or other ? Now I want to learn something more about this Toney Mettler. If it should turn out to be our Toney, and if Carrie is alive, too, and we should thus find them, would n t it be a happy, joyful, glorious day for us, Henry ?" " It would indeed, love !" responded the affectionate hus band. " And I will institute inquiries, afresh, at once, in re gard to this matter. We will know all about it, directly, be assured. And [ now feel as though some ffood would come 374 THE RAG-PICKER. out of this, certainly. There is a show of probability in your suggestions, and to-morrow I will look into the matter thor oughly. I certainly think it may be that Toney Mettler and Toney Ellson are the same, on reflection. Yet, how did he get away out there ?" " That remains to be explained, of course. How have a thousand far stranger things than that occurred in our very midst, here ?" " True, true. You are right, Annie. You re always right. I will investigate it at once," concluded Ellson. Annie did not cease to make suggestions to her husband, having for their object the most feasible mode to communi cate with or to hear from Mr. Toney " Mettler ;" for she could not possibly get the idea out of her mind that this was really her own Toney, under an assumed surname. But the advertisement stated that he had fled in company with the slaves. Whither had they gone, then, if this were correct ? It Avas supposed they had proceeded to Canada. This might be. Would he go to Canada, also ? If he did, at what part of the colonies would he be most likely to halt, or locate ? All was doubt, and uncertainty, and perplexity, again. CHAPTER LXIII. SILVERPOOL. Against the sky, in outlines clear and rude, The cleft rocks stand, while sunbeams slant between ; And lulling winds are murmuring through the wood Which skirts the bright lake with its fringe of green. MRS. TONEY resumed his own proper name, as we have stated, immediately upon quitting Greenville. He had two objects in this : first, he deemed it more appropriate and right that he should take his family name again, upon heing united in marriage with Julie ; and secondly, he preferred to remove, for the time being, the chances of his being identified with Brittan, or any thing that concerned him, in consideration of all the circumstances that attended upon his sudden leave- taking of that gentleman. More than this, he now purposed to seek out his parents (at Julie s repeated suggestions), and he believed that his course in this respect would aid him best, ultimately, in finding them. Upon leaving Kentucky, the newly-wedded pair proceeded directly to Vincennes, where they tarried for two weeks, at the house of a friendly acquaintance in that town, whom Toney had met before. Here they looked for the arrival of other acquaintances, too, whom they had reason to hope might bo 376 THE RAG-PICKER. able to join them there. On the fourth day after reaching this place, Toney and Julie had the satisfaction of welcoming Nappo and Katty and Buff, and of congratulating them upon their escape from bondage. The family where Toney Avas visiting, were friends to the oppressed, and they afforded the fugitives every comfort within their power to administer. After crossing the Ohio River, Nappo sought the way to the mouth of the Wabash, and following its bank for a dozen miles north, he was enabled to obtain conveyance for himself and his associates, thence to Vincennes, where he desired to find one Edward Brown, a trader in the town, Avho was well known upon the river. How he ever knew, or how he had learned of any Mi 1 . Brown, there, is a point we never heard decided. But, that he did find him soon after reaching that place, was certainly true ; and, what was better, he there found " Massa Toney," and "Missy Julee," and they were very glad to see them, and take them by the hand, and assist them in the furtherance of their hopes and wishes for future permanent freedom. After arranging for the present safety of the refugees, Toney took his wife and proceeded on to join his sister and old Davy at the village of E . They had been looking for Toney s arrival for several days, and Carrie had almost begun to fear that his engagements would not permit him to visit them after all. She was dissappointed, bu old Davy said " he will soon be with us, deary. Be patient." " Toney s married by this time," said Carrie, with a sort of half-melancholy expression. " I Ve no doubt he s got a nice little wife, too, for he spoke of his Julie in glowing terms, when he was here. And now she will take up all his time, "SILVERPO OL." 377 and absorb all his affections ; and lie 11 have no room left in his heart to love poor little Carrie will he, Davy ?" " Never fear ! Never fear that, Carrie. Toiiey s undoubt edly very happy, in his new sphere ; and as he has been pru dent and has saved considerable money in late years, he should not have delayed his marriage longer, I think. It is very well as it is, therefore. He will soon be along, and we will induce him to settle near us, when he comes. There s a nice little spot by the edge of the lake, above us, you know, where we ve gone together hundreds of times, to sit beneath the elms and admire the glorious landscape around." " Oh, yes yes ! Delightful. I named it, you recollect. Did n t I ? Charming charming ! Just the place for them, if they would only think so. Silverpool? Isn t it pretty ?" " Very, and I have no doubt the land could be purchased at a low price, too. Toney s a good farmer, I think, and if he would agree with us, it would be very pleasant, certainly, to have him for a neighbor, eh ?" " Oh ! how I wish it may turn out thus," exclaimed Carrie, joyfully. " He could build a house to suit his own tastes, up on the high ground that faces the lake, and the great elms could be left in front, and the beautiful slope that falls away from the great knoll, quite down to the water s edge (upon which he would of course set his dwelling), would form a glo rious lawn would n t it, Davy ? And he could have a nice large garden in front, toward the village, and and oh ! it would be so nice. Do you think Touey would like this, though ? And Julie would she fancy such a spot ?" contin ued Carrie, who had thus built n castle for her brother, and 378 THE RAG-PICKER. laid out his grounds for him, in her imagination, in a single moment of time. " Well we shall see, deary," replied the old man, kindly. " Toney has been brought up a farmer, and there is no doubt he is an accomplished agriculturist. " The land around us is easy of tillage, the spot we have just spoken of is a lovely place, and I hope Toney can be induced to settle here, unless he has better prospects." " I 11 take him up to the lake, as soon as he comes he and Julie," said Carrie, " and I 11 show them a sight worth the seeing. There are forty or fifty acres of land that he can pur chase there, if he likes the location, and I would so love to have them here ; would n t you, Davy ?" "Indeed I should, Carrie ; and if it be possible, they shall certainly remain with us. And since you are so earnest, and I am at leisure, come ! let us walk around through the wood- piece above us, and take a peep at the place we have selected for Toney to settle upon, by and by ; and for which I am sure he ought to feel greatly obliged to us, eh ?" " O, yes yes ! Let us go," responded Carrie, joyfully. " Let us go up and see it before they come. I know he 11 like it, I know he will." And singing merrily as she went, she hurried old Davy along up the steep bridle-path that led to the oak wood-patch, and thence on through the rich deep pine grove that lay between this and the more open lands, toward the lake. And finally they halted beneath the shadow of a fine clump of ancient elms, where they had many a time sat before and " Silver- pool" was before and around them. It was truly an enchanting spot. In front, upon either side, "SILVERP OOL." 379 tar away to the westward, could be seen a deep ravine, which was flanked by hills, the slanting sides of which were covered with a heavy but rather short growth of woods, growing down to the very verge of the chasm below. This vale seemed to have been scooped out of the earth s surface, ages before, and formed an oblong half-oval hollow for a long distance to the westward into which settled the first gushing waters from a myriad of living streams along its sides, that eventually sup plied the river toward and beyond the village of E . The shining little lake itself, which lay embosomed among sharper rising hills near Davy s lands, was a deep crystal of water, so brilliantly clear and transparent, so silent and its beauty, that Carrie iiad long since named it "Silver- one of her moments of romantic admiration. And ttily was it thus named, and appropriately, too. 3, to the right, Davy," said Carrie, again planning out Toney, " here s the spot for the house, you see. lump of elms will form a delightful shade, and in front, little trimming and clearing, see ! what a view he has lake. Think of the beautiful lawn thus slanting gently down from the door to the very edge of the water and already led to perfection. Here s the grove, on the left, too ; that must not be touched. Beyond, he has his acres of opening, and meadow, and upland for tillage and pasturing ; and over yonder, see what a glorious piece of wood-land. Ah ! Davy could he not be very happy here if he would ?" " Very very !" exclaimed the old man. " And unless he has entered into engagements that we know nothing of, I feel assured that he will be delighted with this spot. We shall see. Come ! Let us return. He should be here at any hour now." S80 THE RAG-PICKER. And the old rag-picker and his charge moved backward to their humble dwelling, beneath the shadow of the ledge. On the afternoon of the second day after this conversation, the public stage halted before the door of Davy s little house, and there alighted from it a young lady, accompanied by a gentleman and a boy some five or six years of age. " Here they are here they are ! Oh ! Toney how glad I am to see you," screamed Carrie, bounding out just as the coach started off. " Here they be, Davy !" and she threw her arms about Toney s neck, and hugged him with a sisterly earnest ness, while her brother warmly returned the affectionate em brace, and said " This is my wife, Carrie," as proudly and with as much dignity as if they had *been married fifteen years, in stead of less than as many days ! " I know her I know her," continued Carrie, cordially, " come in I knoAv all about her ; you told us. Come in, Julie here s Davy, our Davy my good, kind Davy. He knows you, too, and he knows us, and we know him, and you, and every body. Oh ! I m so glad you Ve come, Toney ! And you won t go away again, either. We Ve fixed it all just as we want to have it, and you and Julie will say yes and then we 11 all be so happy but who s this ? Why, what a beau tiful boy. Where d he come from ? What s his name ? That s right, Julie. Take off your things I 11 see to them. And we 11 have such nice times !" Thus the happy Carrie welcomed her friends, chirping and gabbling, and asking a hundred questions without stopping for an answer to one until Toney and Julie had removed their exterior traveling garments, and were comfortably bestowed in the little back room of Davy s dwelling. "SILVERPOOL." 381 And Davy was never happier in his life. It always warmed the good old man s heart to see Carrie happy, and he thought he never saw her so merry before. Her associates were few, and it was very rare that any one came to visit the poor artisan at his little humble house ; so that such visitors as these ren dered Carrie almost beside herself with joy. She soon learned that the little boy was the child of a slave- mother, a fact that greatly astonished her when she looked at his clear white skin and beautifully formed features ; for she had always, in her own mind, associated a slave with negroes, and darkness, and suffering, and ignorance ! But here she beheld a bright, fair-skinned, comely child, who was fresh from servitude, but, nevertheless, in all the bloom of health and singular beauty. This seeming paradox was sub sequently explained to her, and she got to think a great deal of Buff in the future. A happy evening succeeded the arrival of the friends of Carrie and Davy, and the morrow was fixed upon to visit " Silverpool," which Carrie informed Toney was the place that she and Davy had selected for him and Julie, as their future residence ; at which announcement Toney smiled, but did not say " nay !" CHAPTER LXIV. ANNIE, HENRY, AND T O N E Y . Upon a tone A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously. BYRON S DEEAM. AFTER due consultation between Ellson and his wife, it was deemed expedient, on the following day, to procure some of the latest Kentucky journals, in order to learn such further particulars as might possibly appear therein in relation to the matter in which they had suddenly become so deeply in terested. At the end of a few hours search among the files at the reading-rooms, Ellson had possessed himself of several addi tional items bearing upon this affair, and had also secured a paper containing the original advertisement offering a reward for the recovery of Brittan s lost slaves. He again communi cated with his wife, and the result of their deliberations was the adopting of Annie s final advice to forward to the Louis ville and Lexington papers an advertisement like the follow ing : "NOTICE. If Mr. Tonoy Mcttler, lately in the employ of Anthony Brittan, Esq., at Greenville, Ky., shall meet with this card, and will forward his address to Henry Ellson, at Boston, Mass., he may hear of something to his advantage." ANNIE, HENRY, AND T O N E Y . 383 Within five days after this notice appeared, Toney chanced to be over at the village of E , where, it will be recollected he had had business before, and a friend who formerly lived in Kentucky, and whom he went there to see, handed him the paper containing the above advertisement. Toney started with surprise and secret joy, for the name of his father appeared in the card Henry Ellson ! He lost no time in communicating this intelligence to Carrie and Davy, and it was forthwith determined that Touey .should proceed directly to Boston, and, in person, respond to this notice ; for there existed no doubt in the minds of either of the trio that Toney s supposition was correct. And, leaving his wife and the boy Buff in charge of Davy and his sister, he hurried away to New England to satisfy himself in regard to this, to him, important and interesting matter. In the mean time Toney had visited Silverpool. He was delighted with the scenery and the character of the lands around the village of E , and he fully determined, unless something occurred to interfere with this resolve, to purchase " Silverpool" and its adjacent borders, and settle there per manently. With this view he instructed old Davy to inquire about the premises and the title in case he might wish to buy. When he departed for the East, he assured Carrie that he had no doubt he should return and settle there eventually, very much to his sister s joy and satisfaction. Six weeks had nearly elapsed since Ellson forwarded to Kentucky his " card," and for the tenth time, at least, he had been to the post-office, anxiously hoping to receive some reply to it. But he returned home again at evening, as usual, with out any intelligence from his advertisement. 384 THE RAG-PICKER. " I am surprised at this," said Mrs. Ellson, uneasily. " I supposed that this would be brought to the person s notice, in some way, certainly, be he whom he may ; and I think, out of mere courtesy, he could not do less than reply to it." "Bless you, Annie, you are too anxious," said Ellson. " There may not have been sufficient publicity given to the card. It may be that he does not see the papers at all ; or, he may be in Canada, or New Orleans, or in England, for that matter. Who knows ? Let us be patient." " I am patient, I think, Henry," said the wife, with a sigh. " So you are, usually." A knock was heard at the front door a moment after ward. " Does Mr. Ellson live here ?" asked a gentlemanly-looking stranger, as soon as the door was opened. " Yes," said Henry. " Walk in." And the guest was shown at once into the sitting-room, where Annie sat with her embroidery. She started up, looked strangely into the visitor s face, and exclaimed, instantly " Toney ! Toney !" And springing toward him, would have fallen at his feet, had he not caught her in his arms. "My mother! my father! Thank God thank God for this joyful hour !" There was a sympathy of hearts, an indescribable something, that told both the mother and the son that Providence had brought them together again. Henry Ellson clung to his son s hand, while Toney sup ported for a moment the almost fainting form of his excited mother, and suddenly the door opened, and Meeker and his ANNIE, HENRV, AND TO NET. 385 wife (who occupied the opposite half of. the house) hurried into the apartment without notice. " Pray what s the matter ? What has happened ?" ex claimed both the friends together. " What a dreadful shriek!" said Mrs. Meeker. " I thought you were hurt," added Mr. M. " What is it all " " My son my son !" replied Annie, wildly. " My son, Toney Toney, my son !" was all she could say. And the ever attentive friends of the Ellsons quickly saw what the dis turbance was about. And then followed such a shaking of hands, and such gratulations, and so many joyful tears again, and so many questions without any answers, and so much of hope, and pleasure, and surprise, and anguish, mixed together, that it was a long time before any particular person in the room could be understood distinctly at all each one in the excited group seeming most desirous to inform every body else how happy he or she was at that precise moment ! After the storm conies the calm. And half an hour later a more satisfactory explanation had been given, and was listened to by the little party, while Toney entered into a detailed ac count of his tortuous career, as far back as when he so sud denly left the care of Mr. Meeker, and was enticed from so comfortable a home. As soon as he alluded to Carrie, however, there was a fresh burst from the lips of Annie. " Oh ! my darling Carrie !" she shouted. " Where is she ? Is she alive ? and well ? And is she married ? Say wo, Toney ! How has she been used ? Has she grown up ? Does she look like father ? Does she remember mother ? Will she 17 386 THE RAG-PICKER. come to us ? Why did n t she come now ? Is she in town ? Or far away ? Tell me tell us, Toney ! Tell us all about, dear little black-eyed, singing, merry Came !" As soon as Toney could possibly " get a word in edgewise," (as he suggested) he informed his parents all they desired to know, by no means forgetting to speak of old Davy, in deserv ing and most cordial terms, for his care of the little wanderer, whose steps he had so long guided, and whose weal he had guarded with all a father s solicitude and zeal. At a late hour the happy family knelt at the family altar, and thanked the Father of all mercies that he had thus guided the steps of the absent loved ones, and had now brought about this long-sought and long-prayed-for reunion, so joyful in its present results. CHAPTER LXV. SPECULATIONS AND PROMISES. No pastoral scene procures me peace I hold no leasows in rny lease, No cot set round with trees ! No sheep-white hill my dwelling flanks And omnium furnishes my banks With brokers not with bees ! THOMAS HOOD. AFTER a brief sojourn with his parents, Toney prepared to retrace his steps, and to bear to Carrie and good old Davy the joyful intelligence he had obtained during his visit to Boston. It was arranged, before he left, that Davy should accompany Carrie to New England, at once, upon Toney s arrival at the village of E again the father and mother insisting that she should forthwith make her home with them, in Boston. " They Avill fly to meet you," said Toney, " and our Davy, as well as Carrie, will be overjoyed to greet and embrace you. But I doubt if Davy will consent to parting with his little jewel (as he calls her) after so long and happy a companion ship. We may have something better to propose to you, by and by. The region where he is now located, and whither I propose to repair, upon leaving you, is an excellent business neighborhood, T learn. And in the village beyond Davy s 388 I HEKAG- PICKER. residence there are now several manufacturing establishments, mills, and the like, where remunerative employment could readily be had. Carrie s associations are all there, the labor of Davy s hands finds its sale there, and even you, father, might join us and find it to your pecuniary advantage, in preference to remaining in this vicinity. We will see. Car rie and Davy will visit you immediately upon my return, and you can talk with them in regard to this matter. My own education has been such that I must pursue the calling of the agriculturist, to which the best part of my life has now been continually devoted ; and a rare opportunity presents itself (in the immediate vicinity of Davy s pleasant home) where I can carry out my long-considered plans for life in a desirable manner, and amid such facilities as fully correspond with my tastes and ambition." Toney left his happy parents, at last, and returned once more to Carrie, and Julie, and Davy. " Did you find them ? Are they living ? Was it our father ? Did you meet with mother ? Are they well ? Tell us oh ! tell us, Toney, all about it !" cried his sister, before he had scarcely entered Davy s house, upon his return to them. " Oh ! what a girl !" replied Toney, laughing at Carrie s impetuosity and earnestness. " How can I answer your ques tions when you give me no chance to be heard ?" " I know you did ! I m sure you found him. I m cer tain it is father and mother, too ! I know it. You d say no, no, no, right away, if it were n t so. And you would n t have come back so soon, and you would n t look so smiling, and joyful, and happy ! I know it ! Come, now, Toney SPECULATIONS AND PROMISES. 389 quick ! quick ! Tell us all about it. No matter about kiss ing Julie so many times ; tell us about father, and our dear, dear mother ! and and all about it ; won t you ? Coine !" " Why, you won t give me the opportunity to speak a word. My conscience, what a talker you ve got to be, Car rie !" said Toney, provokingly. " And what a capital speech- maker you would be in a woman s-rights convention, to be sure !" " Now tell us, Toney, all about your visit." " Well, then, you are correct " " I thought so ! I told them all so ! Did n t I, Davy, and Julie? Did n t I say so 2" " I found our parents on the very evening that I arrived in Boston. I did n t stop to address any reply to the advertise ment, but instantly obtained a city directory, in which I found the name of Henry Ellson, book-keeper, 14 D street. I repaired without delay to No. 14 D street, and as soon as the door was opened, fairly, I fell into their arms !" " How did you know them, pray ?" " I did n t for the moment, but they knew me, it appeared ! That is, mother suspected, or guessed, or felt that I was her boy ; for she sprang to her feet as I entered their pretty par lor, and shouted : Toney, Toney ! We had a happy meet ing, as you may well conceive ; and all we needed to mako the joyful union perfect, was the presence there, at that mo ment, of you, dear Carrie, and Davy, and Julie !" Toney then entered into a detailed rehearsal of the agree able trip he had just finished so successfully, and the hearts of 390 THE RAG-PICKER. Carrie, and Davy, and Julie, were greatly elated with the happy intelligence thus conveyed to them. A few days passed by after Toney s return, when he heard from the friends in whose care he had left Nappo and Katty, at Vincennes. Soon after Toney and Julie departed from that place, it was deemed expedient by those who felt interested in the fu ture permanent welfare of the fugitives, to advise them to pro ceed to Canada, where they would be positively safe from further molestation. Where they then tarried the law of the land sanctioned their recapture ; and they were liable to be seen or heard of, at any moment, in that vicinity, and it would be an easy thing to identify and force them back to bondage, should they be discovered in Indiana. They were therefore made comfortable for the time being, and Toney was gratified, soon after, to learn that they had lately departed for the British Colonies, where they purposed to pass the remainder of their lives, amid the freedom that was denied them in their native land. Nappo had not forgotten to leave with his temporary friends his hearty and grateful expressions of thankfulness toward " Massa Toney" and " Missy Julie," to whom he was informed Mr. Brown intended to write. And Katty, too, was quite as earnest in her recollections of the favors she had re ceived at the hands of those who had been always so kind to her. She bequeathed to Toney and Julie the care of the boy Buff, and finally left Vincennes for Toronto, where they found a permanent home amid the enjoyments of the liberty they coveted. During Toney s absence at the East, old Davy had moved SPECULATIONS AND PROMISES. 391 in the matter of the contemplated land purchase, and had taken the refusal of about forty acres of the best portion of the fine estate above his own premises, at a very figure. Toney re-examined the place, and after choosing an c. tional " wood-lot," of some twelve acres in extent, he closea the bargain, and became the possessor of over fifty acres of the choicest farming land in the county, for a comparatively inconsiderable sum of money. Mechanics were at once engaged, and a substantial farm house and out-buildings were commenced upon, forthwith. Toney had been frugal and successful while in Brittan s em ployment, and had saved sufficient means to pay for his lands, build his house, and to stock his farm to his liking. And while this work was going forward, Davy and Carrie got in readiness to leave home for a short time, for the purpose of visiting her parents in Boston, who awaited their coming with impatient but happy anticipations. CHAPTER LXVI. A COLLISION. " EF yer don t pay me that ar money, Brittan, I m ruined, smaslied, broke sure as preachin ." " What can I do, Taskem ?" exclaimed Brittan, morosely, worn out with the importunity of his former " friend." " Do ? Wot the devil can / tell w ot yer 11 do ? Pay me my forty-three hundred dollars, that s all I want. I 11 say nuth n bout int rest. Gi me the princerpal, an I 11 let yer off. Ef yer don t, I m smashed ; that s all, Britt n ; an I can t go back ! I have n t a livin chance among my credi tors ef I don t carry back money w en I go down ag in." " I m sorry for you, Taskem." " Sorry ! But that won t pay my bill !" " No," said Brittan, " nor mine either." " Well, there s no talkiii it off I must hev it." " You can t very well have from me what I have n t got, then that s certain." " You must git it git it. I tell yer, it s life or death with me, this time, an it must come, Britt n !" " It is utterly useless for you to rave, or make a disturb ance about your claim, Taskem, for you know as well as I A COLLISION. 393 myself do, that at present the liquidation of your debt is out of the question." " But I tell yer " commenced Taskem, fiercely " Stop ! Hear what / have to say," said Brittan, springing to his feet, and showing the slave-hunter that he had teeth, too. " Stop and listen ! I came here a few years ago under your advice and at your suggestion. I brought fifty thousand dollars with me, in ready funds. You have had the handling of that capital. I have bought from you at your own prices, and paid you at your own time. I am now a beggar. My fortune is absorbed. Every dollar I have is sunk my estate irredeemably mortgaged. Many of your slaves are dead the best have run away. Bankrupt, baffled, and furious, I warn you, Taskem, to beware how you bully a desperate man !" The Englishman stopped for a moment to collect himself, and then continued, wildly, but more seriously : " I am ruined, Taskem ! Ruined ! I tell you this it is God s truth ! Within a month I shall not have where to lay my head !" There was a vehemence and a deliriousness in the delivery of these words that Taskeni had never seen before in Brittan s manner. But this did not pay his bill. Bankruptcy stared him in the face, also. There was no way to avoid it. The slaves were gone, too, and thus he was cut off from taking possession of them, as he would otherwise have done. Task- em was not the man to bear a misfortune with fortitude, nor was Brittan disposed to submit to insolence. An angry alter cation ensued. High words passed between the precious pair, and there was every prospect of a collision. " You upbraid me 1" shouted Brittan, savagely. " You of 17* 394 THE RAG-PrCKEK. all men on God s earth ! You who have swindled, cheated, and hood-winked me with your black imps and cursed serv ice ! Why, you pettifogging varlet, if it had not been for you I should have remained where I was, in Boston. If it had not been for you I should still have had my ward and her fortune under my control. If it had not been for you I should have escaped nursing that viper, Ellson, under my roof. If it had not been for you I should have been rich, rich not a beggar, as I am !" Taskem did not reply to this outburst, but turned on his heel with an insolent taunt that he would take the law on the " darned old cuss." Brittan caught the last words, only, but they were sufficient. With a bound like a tiger, he caught the slave-dealer by the throat. It w r as in vain that he strug gled. Brittan s gripe was like that of a blacksmith s vice. Taskem kicked, and fought, and felt in his pocket for a weapon, and shouted for help, without in the slightest degree relaxing the mastiff-like hold of the Englishman. A few mo ments longer and Taskem s career would have been at an end. The blood gushed from his nostrils, and he could feel his eyes protruding on his cheek-bones. Fortunately, Beck and some of the servants heard his shrieks, and rushed into the apartment just in time to avert a catastrophe. It was with the greatest difficulty that the combatants could be separated. " I 11 fix yer for this, Britt n. I 11 hev yer heart s blood, by the eternal God !" Brittan, with his face flushed with fury and exertion, his eyes glaring, and every fiber quivering with passion, attempted once more to get at Taskem. But Beck and some negro boys succeeded in hustling that worthy out of the room. A COLLISION. 395 " Kick him out ! kick him out !" shouted Brittan. " I 11 shoot the first man that refuses, s help me G ." Taskem did not wait for any further violence, but, with Beck as a companion, made his way to a hut, where he washed the blood from his face, swearing fearfully all the while. But he was too shrewd a man to be led away by any unprofitable scheme of revenge. He was determined to get what he could in money, first, and then square the balance with Brittan. As no time was to be lost, he took passage at once in the Louisville steamer. Taskem knew a lawyer in Louisville who had helped him out of worse scrapes than this, and from whom he hoped to get not only advice, but pecuni ary assistance. To this estimable member of the legal pro fession he repaired without a moment s delay. Beck returned to the house just in time to meet a boy gal loping at hot speed for a doctor. Brittan s late excitement had terminated in a fit. He Avas now writhing in uncon scious agony, biting and striking every thing that came within his reach. CHAPTER LXVII. FATHER AND DAUGHTER. Hark! Hark! They re come I Tboso merry bolls That peal their joyous welcome swells ; And many hearts are swelling high With more than joy with ecstasy ! MES. BOUTHET. HENRY ELLSON was sitting alone in the counting-room of his employers. His associates were absent at dinner, and it had got to be late in the day. He was fatigued and dispirited, somewhat, when he was suddenly aroused from the reverie into which he had fallen by the approach of footsteps. He arose and stepped out into the main room, totally un prepared for the reception of females, there, but advancing, he encountered an aged well-dressed man, who preceded the figure of a beautiful girl, of eighteen or twenty years old, apparently. Before a word could be spoken, and to the utter consterna tion of both the old man and the young lady who was es pecially startled at his manner Henry Ellson sprung wildly forward, and screaming " Carrie ! Car ," fell fainting at his daughter s feet. Now this part of the performance did not seem to have been set forth in the original programme, nt nil ! Both Davy FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 397 and Carrie had supposed, after reaching Boston, and learning of Ellson s business location, that when the former had had the opportunity to present the young lady to her parent, a reasonable course of questioning would be requisite to satisfy both parties that they were not only sincere, but that they desired to make no mistake as to the facts in the case. But the very instant that Ellson cast his eyes fairly upon the girl s face, he saw the type of his wife before him her very second self the original Annie of his own early years his loved and lovely consort ! And he knew it was his daugh ter, his long-absent child, at the first glance at her striking and beautiful, and, to him, never-to-be-forgotten features. The hot blood mounted to his temples, he saw that face but for an instant, the old bright days of happiness, and joy, and youth came back upon him, and it was too much for a single mo ment. He swooned, and fell to the floor ! " That s enough enough !" cried old Davy, in his excite ment. " It is your father, Carrie my life on it !" he contin ued, raising Ellson in his arms, and bearing him back into his counting-room, where he quickly recovered, though he con tinued frenzied, almost, for an hour afterward, with his excited and joyful sensations. " My daughter ! my child ! my darling Carrie !" he cried, amid his tears and his joy. " Ah ! how she favors her beauti-- ful mother. Kiss me kiss me again, my baby," insisted Ellson, affectionately, as he pressed the astonished maiden again and again to his heart, in his frantic happiness. "Ah, Davy," he continued, "you are not a father you never lost and regained a child. Give me your hand. We owe you much every thing, sir. Toney told us nil about 398 THE RAG-PICKER. your kindness, and we can never forget it. And you, my lovely daughter, you will pardon rne, you will love me, you will be my daughter, my child, as you are ! Ay ! there is no doubt, no question of that, mark me ! My Annie s eyes are here, sweet Carrie," he continued, as he placed his hand affec tionately upon her fair brow, and peered into her face, " there are her lips, and there the same shining ringlets that, at your age, graced her fair shoulders ! T is Annie s second self. She s mine mine, Davy, my daughter ! Thank God with me, that Carrie is safely returned to us !" Carrie had not been able, as yet, to utter a syllable that could be understood amid the confusion, Ellson having com pletely monopolized every instant during the interview, thus far, with his excited ejaculations, and the outpourings of his enthusiastic endearments. But he became calmer, at last, his associate clerks returned from dinner, and the happy trio took a carriage for Ellson s residence. Another excited scene succeeded, when the fond mother clasped her daughter to her bosom, and wept over her re turned and dearly-loved child. Annie was too happy ! Her joy was past expression. All was sunshine now ! The parents did not omit, again and again, to thank the once humble rag-.picker for all his at tentions and care of their little one, who had else been driven, perhaps, to starvation or premature ruin ! And the old man smiled again, and blessed the " little dar ling" who had been to him the source of so much comfort in the long and dreary years of their strange companionship ! " But you must n t keep us here too long," said Davy, at length. " I Ve brought her to you to fulfill the promise that FATHER AND DAUGHTER,. 399 Toney made you, and because it was my duty to you, under the fortunate circumstances. But my business will call me home again, soon, and we must get through our visit as rap idly as is consistent and convenient." " Back again !" exclaimed Mrs. Ellson. " Why you must not take Carrie away from us again, surely !" " Take her away !" murmured the old man. " Why, you don t want to take her away from me do you ? My Carrie, my child, my pet, my heart, my life do you ?" "" We want her to remain with us, Davy, at all events," said Annie ; " and you shall stay too, if you will." " I can t. I can t do that, ma am. I must go back. She must go back. Don t you say no to that ! You 11 kill me kill me ! I won t leave her ; she must n t go out of my sight a moment," he exclaimed, with deep feeling, and taking Carrie directly by the hand " You must not separate us no, no ! Never, never, never ! Eh, Cany, eh ?" " No, dear Davy ; I will not leave you, rest assured," said Carrie, quickly. " We will arrange every thing to their satis faction. We Avill all go back, together, perhaps. Give your self no uneasiness on this score, I will never desert you, while you and I live never /" repeated Carrie, affectionately. And she never did. CHAPTER LXVIII. "A MAN OVERBOARD." But evil was bis good, For all too long in blood had he been nursed, And ne er was earth with verier tyrant cursed ! SOUTIIEY. " MAN overboard !" and the cry was caught up eagerly, and passed from niouth to mouth, "A man overboard a man overboard." The night was pitchy dark, and the pilot had kept a good look-out for the first three hours after the boat got under weigh. But he was closely followed by an opposition steamer, and it took all his skill and exertion to keep away from the other craft, and make the wood-yards first. Bets were depending on the Result, and most of the ex perienced travelers were personally interested in this way. " Pitch in the resin, boys !" was the ordinary suggestion of each fearless traveler. " Never allow yourself to be beat Avheu I m aboard." " Man overboard !" was an awkward cry at such a crisis. All was now bustle and crowding and running from one end of the boat to the other, and every body was inquiring, " AVho was it ?" but none could answer. The rival boat was directly behind, and the wood-yard just nhend. How could the A MAN OVERBOARD." 401 steamer stop to look after people that had carelessly tumbled into the river ? It could n t. At all events it did n t ! The body of the unlucky individual passed directly astern of the boat, and the rival steamer came on, at once, hi her wake. Although the sufferer was an excellent swimmer, yet, before he could cross between the two vessels, the boat in the rear was upon him ! He was instantly run down, and the heavy paddles thundered over him, at once crushing him in pieces, as she rushed forward in her headlong course ! A buoy or two- was thrown overboard, and a brace of bar rels followed them. The boat was then lowered away, as soon as they reached the wood-yard, but no trace of the missing man was then found, and the boats hurried off once more, down stream. " Who was it ?" was again asked, as they started. No one could tell. The helmsman was sure he heard the splash in the water, but he could see nothing afterward amid the darkness, and nothing could then be ascertained with any approach to accuracy. On went the rival steamers, puffing and fuming and strain ing on, to the next landing. What cared any body for the missing man ? It might have been merely a " nigger" that had fallen from the vessel s side ; or even a deck-hand ; or only a poor emigrant. If a passenger, his jare had been duly paid at starting and passengers on board a western river- steamer are universally considered to be in that position solely " at their own risk !" On, then, forward ! No matter what occurs behind, pro vided the boat you are in is not found there. Away ! Crowd the steam shut down the safety-valves throw in the pitch 402 THE RAa-PICKEE. beneath the already nearly collapsed boilers keep up the terrible fires and push on, on, on ! at any hazard, at any sacrifice ! " Man overboard !" What if there is ? The boat can t be stopped. What ! Stop a steamboat to save the life of a single human being ? And with a rival close at the rudder-post ? Hundreds of dollars in wagers, perhaps, are at stake upon the result of her trip, too 1 Pooh never ! People must not fall overboard. The " regulations" of the boat make no provision for rescuing them, if they do. The order to the masters and pilots, from the owners, is to " put her through " and they obey. Away rushed the two boats, and upon arriving at the next stopping-place, the mystery was satisfactorily cleared up. The lost passenger was Ralph Taskem, Esquire, of Tennessee ! The slave-hunter had ridden his last race, he had paid his final debt, and had gone before the " Judge of quick and dead," to render up his last account. His career had been one of turmoil and rank oppression, for many a long year. And when his Master called him from the sphere he had so disgraced in life, he departed "Unwept, unhonored, and unsung!" CHAPTER LXIX. THE NEW HOME OF TONEY AND JULIE. Green downs, ascending, drink the moorish rills, And yellow corn-fields crown the heathless hills, Where to the breeze the shrill brown linnet sings And prunes, with frequent bill, his russet wings. JOHN LETDEN. AT the expiration of three months, during which period Toney Ellson had been busy in clearing out the under-growth on the hill-side facing upon the little lake, and in plowing and harrowing and sowing, and re-arranging his newly-pur chased premises, " Silverpool" and its surroundings had as sumed an entirely new general appearance. Fences, substantial and comely, surrounded the entire fields and pastures. A handsome and comfortable two-story house had gone up, upon Carrie s favorite knoll, from the broad piazza of which a magnificent view of the country could be had, and around the house had been laid out a beautifully tasteful garden. The great trees that originally shaded the ground now hung their festooning branches over the roof and eaves of his dwelling. Below the door there stood another great clump of magnificent elms, and to the right of this a sweet little grove had been permitted to grow, after the first clearing had been made by him. The sloping lawn that slanted from his door, down to the very brink of the shining 404 THE RAG-PICKER. lake, was always green and thrifty, the land proved easily tilled, the forests around him supplied him with wood, and here he believed he could live contented, healthful, and happy, from year to year, in the pursuit of the avocation he so heartily loved, and in which he had thus far been so successful. A splendid grove of thrifty oaks flanked his house on the south, and upon the north side, a short distance from the dwelling, there rose a high rocky eminence that sheltered him admirably from the cold bleak winds of spring and winter. And here, with his loving and charming Julie, in the imme diate vicinity of Carrie and good old Davy, with health and ample facilities for carrying out his undertaking, he felt con fident of success and happiness in the future. Davy had invested his surplus money, from time to time, in the stock of a manufacturing company, located in the heart of the village of E . Wherever he was known, he had always been highly respected for his probity and integrity, and his skill in his peculiar art had won for him a good name and a very flourishing business. Before he left Boston, he hinted to Ellson the probability that, if he were inclined to make such a change which seemed very desirable on the part of his children he could undoubtedly arrange to obtain him a situation that would pay him better (in the establishment where his funds were in vested) than that where Henry was then located. The prop osition pleased Annie, and she urged her husband to accept it, if it could be brought about. Upon his arrival, subsequently, at home, he instituted in quiries regarding the prospect, and was gratified to learn that a change in one of the principal offices of the cashier s de- T II E N E W H O M E . 405 partment of the factory, would occasion an opening that would afford a pleasant and lucrative position to such a man ; and he secured the offer of the place, at once, for his friend whom he cordially commended to the directors as a compe tent and very proper person for the office. And within a fortnight after his return to E , from Boston, he had the satisfaction of offering this position to Carrie s father, if he would take it immediately ; the remuneration for which service was twelve hundred dollars, annually. This salary was considerably larger than that which Ellson was then in the enjoyment of; and, considering all the cir cumstances of the case, to wit, the increase of pay, the fact that Toney, and Carrie, and Davy were there located, and the prospect that he could live for less money there than he could in Boston, while he had, at the same time, promise of increased facilities for adding to his little worldly store at times all in fluenced him to resign his post at the East, and remove, at once, to the village of E , where his children were then residing. There was a month s delay, however, before he could be released from his engagements with his former employers. And then another month passed before he could finally get matters settled so that he could break up his family arrange ments with the Meekers with whom he had jointly leased the house he lived in at Boston. And then another month was used up in getting himself, and Annie, and the furniture out to the place of their final destination. And so three months elapsed, and the fall of the year came, and winter succeeded, before Annie and her husband found themselves located and " cleared up" in their new home at the West CHAPTER LXX. THE NEW PROPRIETOR AND THE OLD. \Ve should count time by heart throbs. lie most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best; And ho whose heart beats quickest lives the longest. P. J. BAILET. " WHAT is the prospect, doctor ?" inquired old Anthony Brittan, a few days after the rencontre with Taskern as his medical man examined his pulse. " While you are quiet and resigned to our treatment you appear comfortable, sir ; but you are seriously sick, your con stitution is shattered, and we can only hope for a fortunate termination." " Do not deceive me, doctor," said Brittan, calmly ; " there is no need of that. I know I am very sick ; no one can judge of it better than I. Whatever my fate, I am prepared to meet it like a man." Intense excitement and subsequent trouble had prostrateci Anthony Brittan beyond the hope of recovery. The fit into which he had fallen immediately after Taskem s departure, nearly proved fatal. It was only by a course of the severest depletion that the fading spark of life could be revived. Had he been surrounded by friends, and nursed with the tranquil devotion of those who loved him, he might have rallied. But THE NEW AND OLD PROPRIETOR. 407 deserted, with no one to speak to save the menials of his household, and no internal source of comfort, he became weaker and weaker every day. What was still more vexatious to his proud spirit was the evident commiseration he excited. Every one seemed to know that he was a ruined and a dying man. His estate, his horses, his slaves, his live-stock, every thing he had owned in the State of Kentucky, was already in the possession of his creditors. He now remained a mere occupant of his former premises, until the new proprietor come should to displace him. He knew not when that might be, but was in daily expectation of a stranger s arrival. Nothing whatever had been saved from the general wreck, and Anthony Brittan, the once lordly, aristocratic, hard-hearted, wrong-headed, unforgiving father of Annie Ellson, was now a miserable, degraded, broken-hearted bankrupt, pitied but re pudiated, alike by slave-holders and freemen, for his egotism, his selfishness, and his duplicity. On the third day after this the sufferer had grown palpably worse. His pulse was much weaker, and his end was evi dently near at hand. But his dogged inflexibility never deserted him for a moment. He insisted on remaining in an easy chair ; would have but little assistance from any one, and seemed to take a savage pleasure in defying fate. " How now, doctor ?" he asked, one morning. " Pretty bad, eh ? Pretty bad ? Nearly done, doctor eh ?" The doctor was a good-hearted man and pitied Brittan, with whose pecuniary misfortunes he was not unacquainted. He saw that Brittan could not now hold out much longer, for all the indications pointed to his early dissolution. " In the natural course of thuigs, Mr. Brittan," he said, 408 THE HAG-PICKER. " you can scarcely recover. Wo have done for you all that lay in our power. If you have any thing you wish to say, or any directions you will give, I think you had better not defer attending to these matters longer. You are very weak." " In body, doctor in body, but not in purpose. I feel that my race is run." He was stern, not sad. After a pause he resumed : " You have been attentive, doctor, and I thank you. If it had been in the power of medicine to build me up, you could have done it. But the disease is here here !" striking his breast fiercely. The doctor admonished the Englishman to be cautious how he excited himself. " I am rational, now, and my mind feels as clear as ever it did. To-morrow" said Brittan, with forced composure, " to-morrow, the future owner of this plantation takes posses sion of it. It is my intention to receive him in a properly impressive manner." A scarcely perceptible motion of the doctor s lips attracted Brittan s instant attention. " I know what you would say, doctor. You would warn me that I may not be alive to do so. You are mistaken. I will live for that ; yes, I WILL !" There was a pause, during which patient and physician were alike overcome by emotions. They were strangely dif ferent, however. " The effort," continued Britten, " will probably cost me my life, but that is of little consequence. What have I to live for ? If you can make it convenient, doctor, to call to morrow at a quarter past twelve, you will see how far I arn correct in my prognostications." THE NEW AND OLD PROPRIETOR. 409 " I will do so, Mr. Brittan," replied the doctor, " but I feel it my duty to warn you that the slightest exertion or excite ment on your part may be attended with fatal consequences." Anthony Brittan did not leave his chair all that night. He gave strict injunctions that he should not be disturbed until the morning. At twelve o clock the new proprietor was to arrive. He was too feeble to sleep soundly, and had he been in ro bust health, even, this luxury would have been impossible in his present agitated frame of mind. For a few hours he was busily engaged in arranging some papers from his writing- desk. More than once he opened the bottom drawer of this article, and gazed earnestly at what it contained. Closing it nervously, as though he could no longer control himself, he would subside into a dreamy meditation. Shortly after mid night he wrote a letter, sealed it, directed it, and left it on the table. The effort was no ordinary one, for the man of iron will wept bitterly as he indited the few lines it contained. * * % % * % * The doctor had just reined his horse to the gate, and was slowly walking across the lawn to the porch of Anthony Brittan s house, on the morning following the above events, when his ear caught the sharp sound of fire-arms. " Some of the boys out gunning," he said, and walked on. There was a traveling-carriage before the door, laden with trunks, valises, etc. It had brought the new proprietor, who, equally punc tual with himself, came precisely at twelve. As the doctor entered the hall, he was surprised to observe a crowd of do mestics gathered around the door of Anthony Brittan s room. Their countenances were frozen with horror. They looked at 410 THE RAG-PICKER. him with a panic-stricken gaze, and pointed to the room. With undefinable misgivings, the doctor pressed his way through the crowd. " In the name of God, what is this ?" Anthony Brittan lay on the ground a CORPSE his right hand tightly closed on a pistol, the barrel of which was yet warm. " I came to-day, sir," said a pale-faced young man, who had hitherto escaped the doctor s observation, " by appoint ment. I handed in my card, and Mr. Brittan desired to see me. As I crossed the threshold of this door he arose and stopped me. One moment, sir, he said. This house and all it contains is yours. I can not honorably dispute your claim. It is impossible for me to understand your emotions in thus taking possession of a ruined gentleman s home. But lest you should have any mistake about mine, see And before I could arrest his arm, he fell a corpse at my feet. I never felt so bad in all my life." And he looked as if lie did feel bad. Thus Anthony Brittan died. There were none to mourn his decease, but many to pity the man whose ill-spent life had led to such a horrible end. CHAPTER LXXI. . A HAPPY NEW YEAR. "Joy ! joy ! freedom to-day 1 Care care -drive it away 1" THE clear bright rays of the morning sun were glancing in through the branches of thegreat trees that fell over Toney s handsome dwelling, and the hills and forests, with their thousands of rich "firs and hemlocks green," were gilded with the light of the rising day-god. It was a week after the gathering at old Davy s, and Toney and Julie were to be host and hostess on this occasion for it was Xew Year s day and they had made a party for the family on the in-coming of the new season. " Happy new year, Toney ! Happy new year, Julie !" rung- out from a merry voice in the broad hall, below stairs. " Happy new year to you ! Is this the hour you rise at, pray ? Why, Julie ! A farmer s wife, and allow the sun to get up before you ? What a lazy girl. Where s Toney ? Is n t he up yet, either ? I ve walked three good miles this morning come !" It was Carrie Ellson. She had been abroad nearly two hours ; down to the village to hail her parents, and to wish them a happy now year; and returning by the way of her 412 T H K R A (; -PIC K E K . own little home, she popped iu to kiss old Davy, and to wish him a hundred of them, at the least ; and Charlie Wells, a suspicious young villager with a good manly countenance and a sentimental fondness for cascades, was close behind her. She had wished him a happy new year three or four times over, always blushing very much, and always forgetting in her glee and joy that she had done so before at all ; and to every body she met by the way she extended the same good wish " Happy new year !" " A happy new year !" Toney had already gone to the barns to look after the stock, and he did not know of Carrie s coming, at all. Julie sprang out of bed at her sister-in-law s summons, and open ing her eyes, saw that she had really overslept herself, nearly an hour ! The morning was crispy and cold. The window-panes were all crystaled over with frost-work, and the air was as sharp as a fine January morning s air need be. Julie sprang blithely to the floor as she heard that merry voice, and answered : " Coming, Carrie coming ! ; And then she thrust one tiny warm foot into a cold stocking, and then she hastily put on the other ; and as she did so the color started from her cheeks, and Carrie heard a most frightful shriek of " Ow ! ow ! Oh, dear ! Murder ! murder ! help ! Carrie ! ow ! ow ! Quick, Carrie Carrie, Carrie !" The next instant Carrie was in the chamber, to find poor Julie tumbling about the room and screaming at the top of her lungs" Ow ! ow ! Take it off! take it off! take it off! 1 " Take off what, Julie ? For pity s sake, what s happen ing to you ?" cried Carrie. " Quick ow / Take it off ! My stocking, my stocking. A H A P P Y S E \V YEAR. 413 my stocking ! Mouse in my stocking ! mouse in my stock ing ! a mouse in my stocking /" yelled Julie, fiercely. The trouble was quickly understood by Carrie, who as quickly caught the toe of the stocking and removed it, with the offending monster held firmly within her gripe, to the immense relief of poor Julie, who had experienced a shock ing momentary fright. "Ow /" shrieked Julie once more, probably because she had not been harmed at all. " Have you got him ? Oh, Carrie ! have you got him ?" " Yes, yes. For pity s sake, don t scream any more. I ve got him, safe and sound, and I ve squeezed him as flat as a pancake, to be sure ! See here ! Why, he s a little bit of a fellow, any way. I would n t have yelled like that for a hundred such, said Carrie, bravely. And as she spoke, the two girls turned to the window, gathered their dresses carefully about their feet, and Carrie turned the stocking " down side up" to shake the offender out upon the carpet. " Take care !" shouted Julie, again, springing back upon the bed. " Take care, Carrie ! He 11 bite ! he 11 bite !" "This young gentleman never 11 bite any body," responded Carrie, as she again pressed the substance in her hand until no sign of motion was apparent, and then shaking the stock ing sharply, there fell out upon the floor a bright, new one hundred dollar bank note ! Toney had placed it in his wife s stocking, secretly, for her " new-year s present." The girls saw through the joke directly, and Carrie screamed with laughter, a good deal louder than Julie had cried with with fear, declaring that she wished somebody would put such 414 THE RAG- PICKER. mice in both her stockings, every month in the year ! But Julie insisted that, while it was very kind in Toney, she " would n t be so frightened again for a bonnet full of them !" Toney returned from the stables, and " A happy new year, brother !" greeted him as he entered the house. " Oh ! such a time as we Ve had here, just now !" cried Came. " Did n t you hear her scream ?" " Who ?" Julie." " No. What has happened ?" " Oh ! such a beautiful little mouse as she found in her stocking, this morning." " Mouse in her stocking ?" " Yes worth a hundred dollars !" cried Carrie. " Oh, I sec yes. A happy new year to her," said Toney, smiling at the " scare" he had so innocently occasioned his wife. But the joke lasted for a by-word all the day long, and Carrie did not forget (any more than did Julie) for many and many a day thereafter, to thrust her hand into the toe of her stocking first, before she " put her foot into it !" At an early hour in the forenoon the family gathered to gether, once more. Toney and Julie were all smiles, and contentment, and grace, as the host and hostess on this happy occasion ; Davy and Buff came up together at a seasonable hour, the old man with his huge staff-cane, and the boy with the new skates that Carrie had bought him ; and lastly came Ellson and Annie, with Carrie herself, again, accompanied by suspicious Charlie Wells, who had not been forgotten in the general "family" invitation AHAPPYNEWYEAK. 415 " Brothers and sisters children mother- All, all restored to one another ; All, all returned!" and the jocund laugh, of childhood, the serene and gentle smile of maturer years, the calm and sober, yet kindly look of age, was present in that little gathering, each in its proper sphere, enjoying the pleasures, the prospects, and the hopes of joyously passing hours. And soon came the feast of good things, prepared under Julie s direction for her friends the rich round of juicy beef, " clone to a turn," the fat plum-pudding, the golden pumpkin- pies, which Carrie had taught her to make, and the tasteful fruit dessert, and every body ate heartily, and gave thanks. And finally came the sports and games among the young folks, who, as soon as they had got fairly warmed up with their exercise, drew Annie, and Henry, and even old Davy, into their circle, where they evinced their joy and hilarity in " blind man s buff," " searching for the key-hole," " hunt the slipper," and all sorts of " forfeiting?," during which Julie was kissed, and Carrie was kissed (suspicious Charlie Wells not playing fair by any means), a hundred times over, and Annie Avas kissed and they all kissed Toney, and Henry, and Charlie Wells (who, when questioned, said he liked it), and Davy, and even the boy, " Buff," who kissed right back again (as if he was no nigger at all !) and they rollicked and raced to their heart s content, while every body kissed good old Davy, and Davy kissed every body else, and there seemed to be no end to the love, and joy, and ecstasy of this gloriously happy gathering ! When evening came, they gathered around the blazing 416 THE KAG-PICKER. wood-fire. There was no lack of conversation. Every one had so much to say of the past that the present was entirely lost sight of (except by Charlie Wells, who did not lose sight of it for a moment). Their lives had been a routine of curious haps and mishaps, and the numerous adventures of each of the party, as they referred in turn to the events of their previous careers, served greatly to edify and please the others. And, finally, when all the rest had told the stories of their experience, old Davy said he could relate a tale that would amuse them, and which would be new to his friends, if they would listen. " Oh, yes," cried the company ; " that s just what we want, to finish up with, Davy. Now, let s have it, let s have it !" "And what is it all to be about ?" queried Carrie. " I will be the story of the Rag-picker" said Davy, good- humoredly. Carrie smiled at this, but all were anxious to hear Davy s story, for they supposed it would be a sort of autobiography, and they were not very well acquainted with the old man s earlv history. CHAPTER LXXII. THE RAG-PICKER S STORY. " As you have often heard me say," commenced old Davy, " Carrie, and you, Toney I am an Englishman, by birth. It would not interest you to hear of my earlier ups and downs^ for there is little in those adventures worth the remembering or recalling, I am sure. And I will pass over all that, with the single remark that, for the first thirty years of my life, I was of a wayward, roving, discontented disposition, not over- ambitious, and constantly unlucky. " I arrived in this country over forty years ago. I was pen niless at the time, and reckless of what became of me. I knew no one in the country, nobody knew me, or seemed to care to, either for which I did n t blame them ! and I wan dered about Boston, where I first landed, without any object in view, or any prospect of good in the future. " At length I secured an old sack, and I scoured the streets, by night and by day, in search of rags, and bits of paper, and scraps of iron, and lead, and brass any thing, indeed, that turned up which could in any way be made use of in the future. By slow degrees I got on in my humble calling, and after a few years at this work, I obtained a small shop, and stored it with junk, and old iron, and like materials, which, 18* 418 THE RAG-PICKER. from time to time, were then gathered by other hands (as I had at first gathered them), and which were sold to me, from day to day, at the current prices which / established myself upon these small wares. And there, in my little shop, I sat down to enjoy myself, and cared very little for aught in the the world save my own immediate comfort, winch it did not cost much to provide. " In the course of my experience I met with a good many curious and interesting scenes and adventures, one of which, in particular, was so important and so strange, from beginning to end, that I shall never forget its details. " There came into my little place, one day, a well-dressed man, who seemed to have no particular object in calling, but who was cordial and pleasant in speech, and whom, from his manner of conversation, I recognized as one of my country men, evidently of the better class. He was somewhat younger than myself, and, after he had spoken with me a few minutes, lie went out. The next day he returned again, chatted a while, and retired. Thus he came and went for a month. I never asked him his name, ho never told me what it was, and sev eral weeks passed by, during which we got to be tolerably well acquainted. " One afternoon he suddenly broke in upon a train of con versation, entirely new with him, and novel to me also, and ho claimed my indulgence. lie informed me that he was from the same country that I came from, that he was in difficulty, and asked me if I would assist him. " You need have no concern, he said, about compromising yourself in any way, and I will relieve your mind, at the out set, in regard to one point : I do not want any pecuniary aid, THE RAG-PICKER S STOUY. 419 on the contrary, Davy, I will pay you liberally for your confi dence and your attention to my interests. I can confide in you, as far as I will trust any body, lie continued, because you are my countryman, first, and because I can afford to pay you for the service. " What can I do for you ? I asked. " I want to hire lodgings over your shop here, he added, that is all. I want to come and go when I please, and I de sire that no questions may be asked me. I will pay you what you charge for the rent of the room I may occupy, in advance, and you shall not be put to trouble, or risk, or inconvenience, in any manner by this accommodation. " He spoke so fairly, and the room he desired was of so little use to me, that I very gladly accepted the proposal ; and for two dollars weekly, I gave him possession of the chamber directly over my little store. This sum paid the whole rent of the building, at that time, and I thought it a good bargain for me. " He came and went, as pleased him. I saw but little of him, save when he came below, occasionally, to chat with me ; and true to my engagement with him, I never asked him who he was, or what he occupied himself about. Indeed, I cared very little about him, any way. He was silent most of the time, always reserved in his intercourse, and cynical whenever he expressed opinions. I saw that he was of a selfish dispo sition, and I never fancied him much. But he paid his rent promptly, and I was content. " He took his meals at a chop-house near by, a laundress came and brought his linen regularly, and he seemed to have little employment except among his books and papers, until 420 T II E H A O - P I C K E U . one night there came a strange but well-attired man to in quire for him ; a person whom I had never seen before. This man went up into his room, a long conversation followed, louds words succeeded which I could make nothing- of, how ever and the stranger departed, amid threats and denuncia tions that I did not understand. " A few weeks after this, a woman called at my shop, and desired to see my lodger. She was prompt and decided in her manner, I thought, though sufficiently lady-like and civil. She did not appear to be in very good health, however. She had a child with her, a good-sized girl, and both were dressed in black. She said : " You have a gentleman occupying a room on your premises, here an Englishman, I believe. I desire to speak with him. Is he now here ? " I announced the two ladies, at once, but he refused to see them ! And bade me peremptorily, once for all, if I wished him to remain there, not to trouble him with these callers. He would receive nobody, he said. And the woman went away sadly disturbed, I thought, with this cold and severe reply. " A short time subsequently to the ladies visit, I received a letter mysteriously, which, as I soon learned, came from this woman. She referred to the late call she had made on me, and besought me to appeal to my lodger for aid in her behalf. She was his wife, it turned out. But he had deserted her, for reasons which she did not explain, though she declared that he was not so much to blame as were her own relations. She had married this man in opposition to her parents wishes, they had abused and driven him away, finallv (as I afterward THE RAG-PICKER S STORV. 421 ascertained), and they had since died, leaving her portionless. Her husband, as it proved, was unforgiving, and bitter in his resentment of the treatment to which, he had been subjected by her friends, and he would not receive her, nor provide for her, or be united to her on any terms, whatever. This was all I learned for some months ; but I found that the bare mention of the lady s claim irritated him, and so I ceased to allude to it altogether. " This man had evidently committed some fault, or some inexplicable error or other (which I never understood), the details of which were in the possession of the stranger who first called upon him, at my place ; for this same individual came again, after a while ; and when they had had a long inter view not the quietest either, by the way I was suddenly summoned up stairs by my lodger, who pointed to a name freshly written at the bottom of a very long document, and said to me excitedly : " Davy, that is my signature ; please to witness it, here. " Now, as I had never written my name since I came to America, and as I had no occasion so to do, I replied, No, I cannot do that ; wait, and I will assist you, though. And I called a neighbor up, who attested to the signing, and soon after the stranger took the document and disappeared. " In the room that my lodger occupied there was very little furniture. But I had noticed a large old-style oaken chest there, which he brought when he came, however. Subse quently to the last interview which he had with the strange caller, he became more taciturn than ever, went out less often, and at last took sick. I attended him, called in a doctor, and in P. few rlavs the mr,n got very ill. T was alarmed, so was 422 THE RAG-PICKER. his physician, for ho failed rapidly. We asked him if he had any thing to say to us on his own account, or in regard to any one else, and he said : " Xo, nothing ! " Pointing to the old oak chest, however, the next day, he said to me : " Davy, keep it. See to it. Don t let them have that. Examine it when I m no " And I never got another word out of him, nor any body else, i faith ! He died that night I" " Died ?" exclaimed the listeners. " Yes ; and we never knew, for many a long day, what he meant to say, either." " But what came of it, at last ?" asked Toney. "I ll tell you, in a moment," said the old man, pouring down a fresh glass of water. " Of course I said nothing to any one, but removed the old trunk out of sight. I felt that it was a dying man s last in junction, and so I put it aside. The strange visitor came to my house within a week, again, and showed the dead man s will the very document which / had had witnessed, you see ! In this it turned out that he had bequeathed his entire prop erty to that very fellow, who (as I told you), undoubtedly knew some secret of the deceased, and who had frightened / O him into giving him his estate in this manner, when he should die, to the utter exclusion of his wife s claims. "Every thing belonging to my lodger was disposed of. The legatee took the funds, and, possessing himself of his whole estate, he sat down to enjoy the property, unmolested. " I had examined the oak chest thoroughly, but could find THE RAG-PICKER S STORY. 423 nothing in it but a few old newspapers and some valueless clothing. I sounded it all over, measured its proportions, the thickness of each side, top and bottom, but could discover no deception in it, no secret compartment, no hidden place that could inclose any thing ; and for a time I gave up my search. But then I determined to take it entirely to pieces, believing that the dying man must have meant more than he had the ability to say, in his final moments. " I carefully took the trunk apart, by piecemeal, and exam ined every joint, and panel, and tenant, in the seams ; but nothing extraordinary came to light. I was perplexed and annoyed at this, for, you see, what good was it for him to enjoin it upon me to keep it and examine it, all for no pur pose ? " At last I took my saw, and I said, At least I can make firewood of the old trunk, and maybe I shall never hear more about it ; and at it I went, I sawed the top, and ends, and sides, into six inch bits, and all was as solid as oak could be. I then came to the bottom slab, which was formed of a single piece of wood, apparently, three fourths of an inch thick. I put my saw into this, and was driving away, lustily, when I struck a nail, or screw, as it seemed, with so much force as to ruin a dozen teeth at the stroke ! I could see nothing upon either side of the board that indicated the pres ence of a nail there, but it was clear that something icas there, nevertheless. So I took a chisel, split this board open, and discovered a cavity in the center of the plank, scarcely an eighth of an inch deep, but so skillfully cut out between the two thicknesses of wood that formed the chest-bottom, as to defy suspicion. Tho iron lhat I had struck was one of six 424 THE RAG-PIC KEK. blind screws, curiously imbedded in the wood, which held the parts firmly together. Upon separating these, I found two papers in the canty, laid out flat ; one was addressed to me, and the other was marked My last ivill and testament? I snatched them quickly from their hiding-place, and found in the envelop that had my name upon it, four fifty-dollar notes. The other was my lodger s will, duly signed and witnessed by two of my neighbors, and executed two days before his final sickness." " But I understood you to say," suggested Toney, " that his will had already been made, and duly witnessed." " So I did. But this one was made several weeks subse quently, you see. And it gave to his wife and child, whom it accurately designated, every particle of his property, to the exclusion of any one else ; and at the same time this in strument revoked and cancelled the first will, which, as I told you, had been extracted from him under threats by the scoun drel who had been made the legatee." " And did the last one prove valid ?" asked Ellson. " Perfectly. I found the widow and her child amid pov erty and suffering, for they had nothing whatever to subsist upon except the woman s scanty earnings ; and you may be sure that while / was happy to be the party to bear to her this good news, she was astounded and overjoyed at the wel come intelligence. She was worthy and well-deserving, though there had been some trouble between the husband and wife, originally, that I never cared to inquire about. I had the happiness to know that the eccentric man had relented, in his last moments, and I saw the woman put in possession of the bulk of the property within the next three months." THE RAG-PICKER S STORY. 425 " What became of the other person ?" " Oli, he raved, and swore vengeance on her, and on me, and all that. But we did n t mind it, you see. The will was clearly proved, and he was compelled to recede from his position, though he had contrived to get rid of sixteen hun dred dollars worth of the property, meantime. However, the widow had enough left, and I took my two hundred dol lars gladly, for my own business purposes. In his letter ac companying this donation, my late lodger informed me that he left me this for my attention to and care of him ; and I retained the money Avith the wife s cordial approval, though it proved a dear gift to me ! I never learned any further particulars of her or her child ; they returned to England soon after the will was audited and settled up, and I heard no more of them. But, four months after the discovery of the final will, my shop was one morning burned to the ground, and I escaped by the window of the chamber only with my life and the partial suit of clothes I chanced to have on at the moment I discovered the fire ! I lost every thing in that burning, and was reduced to absolute beggary. It was at tributed, at the time, to my carelessness, but I have no doubt whatever that it was the work of the man who had extorted from my lodger the first will. He threatened me with venge ance for the part I had taken in procuring justice to the widow and child. He fulfilled his threat by reducing me to beggary and jeopardizing my life." The old man paused for a moment ; then looking round at the inquiring faces of the guests, said, smilingly : " You wonder why I have told you this long tale, and think, per haps, that the garrulity of an old man is manifested in it. 426 THE RAG- PICKER. Something more than that, my dear children something more than that. The next event in my life was intimately connected with you, deary. I saved you from drowning. "We got acquainted quickly, and I fell in love with you. Since then we have not quarreled very much, have we, Car rie ?" Ills beautiful young friend kissed him tenderly. " The Rag-picker s story, you see, although humble, has a grain of romance in it. There is a moral in it, too, and a very pleasing one," taking Carrie by the hand. " Misfortunes are not always the worst things that can happen to a man. OUR FATHER remembers those whom he chastises. Thus, while I lost every thing I gained all all that is worth liv ing for. The smoldering ruins of my little store attracted all the children of the neighborhood. Carrie was a wee thing then a little chattering, singing, careless child. And she came with the rest. Wandering from the ruins to the dock, she fell into the water. I was fortunately at hand to rescue her. I have never regretted the revenge that burned down my store, for that loss presented me with this gain" And ho pressed his darling close to his side. CHAPTER LXXIII. CONCLUSION. THE intelligence of Anthony Biittan s death was some time ere it reached the Ellsons, but it did not for that reason fail to make a serious impression on the little circle at E . En closed in the doctor s letter announcing the event, was one from the misguided man himself. It AVOS as follows : " Long ere you receive this I shall be no more. To-morrow I die. It is now midnight, and I write this letter with a dim perception of duty. My life has been a mistake. Those who could have rendered it happy and peaceful were by some strange fatality the objects of my continued wrath. I have estranged myself from all who should love me. I know it now, and feel it deeply, deeply. My life has been one of vio lence, my death will be the same. I have no alternative. Beggary and worse than that, disgrace, stare me in the face. "Farewell! I have wronged you all deeply, wickedly, wronged you ! Think of the heavy penalty I pay for my transgressions, and forgive FORGIVE ANTHONY BIUTTAN." The Ellsons were greatly shocked, particularly Annie and Julie, and it was some time ere they recovered their usual 428 T 11 K n A o - P i c K E r; . gayety. Time, the great liealer of all sorrows, assuaged their grief at last, and the memory of Anthony Brittan dwelled with them in fondness and love. Young 1 , generous natures, are for getful of injuries. Toney, with his beautiful wife, lived happily in the house he had erected at " Silverpool." The character of the soil, and his admirable cultivation of it, won for his farm quite a local reputation. In a few years, however, there was something more than the crops to attend to. A cluster of youngsters nestled round his knee, and clothed the father in a holier love. Mr. Ellson was doing remarkably well at his new place, and every one with whom he had business was pleased with him and his management. The tranquil joy of Annie at being again re-united to those she loved so dearly, gladdened her declining years with the rich glow of an autumnal sunset. She now knew indeed what Avas happiness. The Ellson s fre quently heard from Mr. and Mrs. Meeker, who constantly cor responded with them after they left Boston, and who con tinued to live on quietly, prosperously, and happily, and never omitted the opportunity to do all the good they could, in their humble way. Katty and Nappo were safe, in Canada, beyond the reach, now, of arrest. They made excellent servants, and had no difficulty, even in a free country (where the slave-owner can not conceive how the poor " niggers" can live !) in procuring a plentiful subsistence, and even in laying by something (as these two fugitives did), " for a rainy day." Davy never recalled the scenes he had passed through (not forgotten, however), in which Henry Ellson figured, years CONCLUSION. 429 before, to such disadvantage. He kept his own counsels, and was rejoiced to observe tbat the once unfortunate man had totally reformed, and that he was now, again, a land and faithful and loving, as well as a repentant husband. Time passed on. Charlie Wells grew more suspicious every day. He was a handsome young man (with whiskers too). At length he threw off all disguise, and boldly offered Carrie his hand, which she kindly accepted, provided Davy would consent to the marriage. Charlie was in a good busi ness, at last, by means of his father s aid, and he was not re fused when he respectfully appealed to old Davy for his con sent to take Carrie away. " How old are you, Charlie ?" asked Davy. " Past twenty-one, sir." " How long past, Charlie ?" "Almost a fortnight," said Charlie, humbly. " Well well," said the old man, " you re old enough, I suppose, and Carrie loves you almost as well as I love her. I shall rot refuse you, but I shall insist upon applying one condition to your marriage." "What is that, sir?" " I have said, Charlie, that I would not give up this prop erty while I am living ; and I won t. But this estate is Carrie s all of it nevertheless. I ve made out the deed, and my will is ready for record. But I can t vacate my little house at present. Now, you may go to work on the hill, yonder, and you shall erect such a cottage as pleases your fancy and Carrie s tastes, and I will pay for it. It shall be yours and hers. And when it is finished I will furnish it for you, for Providence has blessed me with ample means, and it 430 THE RAG-PICKER. is all Carrie s all lier s, Charlie all, when I ve done, you see." " You are very kind, my dear sir," said Charlie, gratefully. " I had no expectations like this, I assure you ! " I don t believe you had ; and if I thought, for a moment, that you sought my Carrie s hand with any mercenary mo tives, I should long since have forbidden you to approach her. No, Charlie, I am satisfied that you love her for her self; and she is worthy of you. I know, also, that she loves you, and therefore I consent to your union. Build your house, then ; and, when all is ready, take her ! and may Heaven bless you !" It was a hard thing for Old Davy to give Carrie up, but he would not put himself between her and happiness ; and so he said : " I shall see you often, Carrie very often ; always, every day. You will be happy with Charlie, for he is a good boy, and I shall always be near you, in the little cot, here. Take him, and God bless you !" Toney took charge of the boy Buff, and put him in train ing for a farmer ; and the little fugitive did not disappoint him, but proved himself in every way worthy of the favor of his benefactor, who never permitted him, after he came to " Silverpool," to call him " massa" again. The cottage was finished and furnished with incredible rapidity, and another party came off now, at Ellson s dwelling, in the village. It was the wedding-party of Charles Wells and Carrie Ellson, who were united in marriage at the resi dence of her parents, and who immediately afterward took CONCLUSION. 431 possession of their pretty place on the hill-side, which Carrie christened the " Cascade House" " Bless them ! God bless them !" exclaimed good old Davy, with all the earnestness of his fatherly heart, as they finally departed for their cottage home. " God bless iny darling- Carrie, and may she never hereafter know a pang of sorrow 7 !" THE END. A 000 033 207 2