A YEAR WORTH LIVING: 
 
 A STORY 
 
 OF A PLACE AND OF A PEOPLE ONE CANNOT 
 AFFORD NOT TO KNOW. 
 
 WILLIAM M. BAKER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " INSIDE," " THE NEW TIMOTHY," " MOSE EVANS,' 
 " CARTER QUARTERMAN," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 
 
 1878.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1878, 
 
 BY 
 LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 
 
 Franklin Press: 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed 
 
 By Rand, Avery, &* Company, 
 
 Boston.
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 THIS STORY 
 
 TO 
 
 MY SON D. B. B., 
 
 AS AN EVIDENCE OF THE 
 
 ENTIRE CONFIDENCE, AS WELL AS HEARTY LOVE, 
 
 OF 
 HIS FATHER. 
 
 2072165
 
 A PORTION of this book was published in "The 
 Christian at Work," of New York. That, however, 
 was but the germ out of which this volume has 
 grown to such a degree as to deserve, as it has 
 received, a new name.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 In which the Columbus of this History sets out for a New 
 
 World 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In which we find that to leave an Old World is not always to 
 
 step ashore right away upon a New 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Explaining how this Columbus sets his Foot at last upon the 
 
 shores of a New Land 30 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mr. Venable begins to know the Inhabitants of St. Jerome, and 
 
 they to know him ......... 41 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In which Mr. Venable begins to see that St. Jerome is as tropical 
 
 in its People as in its Climate 50 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 In which, for the First Time in his Life, Mr. Venable sees One 
 
 of his Ideals alive and breathing 60 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In which we come to know Col. Roland, Mr. Farce Fanthorp, and 
 
 begin to become acquainted with Miss Zeo .... 69 
 
 3
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 In which we bid Good-by, for a Time, to Things Inferior, and 
 
 ascend into the Realm of Art 83 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr. Venable makes the Acquaintance of His Excellency " Old 
 
 Ugly" 93 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mr. Ezra Micajah Parsons begins to explain his Ideas to Mr. 
 
 Venable . . . : . .102 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 We continue our Acquaintance with Mr. Ezra Micajah Parsons, 
 
 and his Owny 114 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Mr. Phip Quatty feels it to be His Duty to make a Few Remarks 124 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Mr. Venable soars among the Stars, while Zeo Buttolph descends 
 
 in quite another Direction 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mr. Venable becomes better acquainted with Mrs. Chaffingsby 
 
 and her Household 144 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Describing a Wonderful Ride in the Terraqueous Machine . . 157 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Mr. Venable begins to break his Shell toward entering upon a 
 
 Larger Life 169 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Having Reference to a Variety of Persons and of Things . . 175
 
 CONTENTS. 5 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 In which we descend into the Chemistry of Eloquence, and learn 
 
 how an Oration is prepared 187 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A Night on board the Bayou-Boat ... ... 206 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 In which it is shown that All Things at a Sugar-Plantation are 
 
 not necessarily sweet 216 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Mr. Venable violates the Proprieties 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Illustrating the Fact that Nature abhors a Vacuum . . . 234 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The ebbing Sea reveals somewhat of that which it hides . . 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 The Tide begins to return again 258 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 In which People of Diverse Kinds are not more mixed up than 
 
 they often are in this Tangled Life 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 In which Tragedy and Comedy are not blended more than they 
 
 are apt to be everywhere 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 With the Year, the New World also of our Columbus hastens 
 
 to its Ending 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 In which the Midnight darkens toward Dawn .... 295
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Sulphur St. Jerome, and what happened there .... 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Mr. Venable is re-enforced 313 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 In which is ended what it is hoped the Reader may consent to say 
 
 has been A Year Worth Living . . . . . .321
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 A STORY OF A PLACE AND OF A PEOPLE ONE CANNOT 
 AFFORD NOT TO KNOW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH THE COLUMBUS OF THIS HISTORY SETS OUT FOR A 
 NEW WORLD. 
 
 IT certainly seemed to Hartman Venable, the Wednesday 
 afternoon he went aboard the steamship Nautilus, as 
 if he were leaving an old and very dismal world. Earlier in 
 the day he had sent his trunk to the boat, and nothing was 
 left him but to follow. It proved, however, a good deal to 
 do. The rain was pouring in torrents ; and it took all his 
 strength to keep his umbrella from wreck, as he strove along 
 in the gusts of the storm. He was young, ardent, and full 
 of an enthusiasm which bore him up like a kite against the 
 wind, the harder it blew, so that the tempest was a welcome 
 variety to his other and more sober enjoyments. 
 
 " Dame Nature," he said to himself, as he struggled down 
 the street, " is having a washing-day of it, with a vengeance. 
 What a vixen she is ! The moment the black clouds stop 
 pouring down, to rest a bit, she rushes at them as if they 
 were lazy negroes, scolding and shrieking until they come 
 back to their work with a sort of sullen fury." For the 
 
 7
 
 8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 events to be herein recorded took place in the South, and 
 before emancipation. 
 
 As he spoke, he wound his way at last through the mer- 
 chandise heaped upon the wharves of the city from which 
 he was departing, and which lined the shores of the great 
 river for miles up and down. It was not easy to find his 
 steamship among the scores of vessels of all sorts lying there. 
 He knew it after a while by the black smoke from its chim- 
 neys, and climbed up the slippery gangway, very wet, and 
 glad to be under shelter again. Pausing in the doorway of 
 the cabin to fold his dripping umbrella, he cast a last look 
 at the acres of cotton-bales, flour-barrels, sugar-hogsheads, and 
 the like, each heap sheltered under tarpaulin. 
 
 " It is like so many corpses covered with sheets," he said 
 to himself. " No wonder. You are all of you a dead world 
 to me." As he spoke, the exasperated wind made one last 
 rush at him, seized upon his umbrella, turned it inside out, 
 snatched it from his wet hands, and cast it contemptuously 
 into the river beyond. 
 
 "What do I care, old lady?" he said with a laugh. "I 
 am going where people do not use umbrellas. Good-by." 
 And he sought his stateroom. 
 
 By the time he had changed his clothes, supper was ready ; 
 an erect steward tapping at the door of his room, and telling 
 him so in a certain military manner, which was acceptable, as 
 signifying discipline on board, and consequent security. At 
 the same moment the Nautilus backed from its wharf 
 slowly and with many a groan. Heading down stream in 
 an uncertain fashion, as if it had been aroused out of sound 
 sleep, and was not quite awake, the boat began to settle 
 itself to its work. 
 
 Possibly young Venable would not have gone to the sup- 
 per-table with quite so much alacrity, had he known the 
 opinions of old Steve, the rough and very tough negro hand, 
 who made the morning fires in the wharf office of "The
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 9 
 
 Line," and was always on hand to cast off the cables of 
 its boats when they left Wednesday nights. As the Nau- 
 tilus drew itself painfully away from the landing, and as if 
 out of clinging mire, Steve stood still for some time upon 
 the shore, notwithstanding the down-pour, his wise old head 
 upon one side, looking with a curiously solemn air at the 
 boat, very much as if it were at a hearse departing from his 
 door. At last, with a slow and sorrowful shake of his head, 
 he sought his home in a dingy cellar near the wharf, and 
 seated himself to his pork and grits. Even then he paused, 
 knife and fork in hand, his face full of the same mournful 
 thought. 
 
 " Dun gone? " asked his wife as sadly. 
 
 "Dun gone?" he replied. "Yes, old 'oman. De boat 
 dun gone agin. I know I's said so for years ; but dis time 
 must be de last. Old 'oman, de Nautilus can't stand it. 
 My Lor' ! It's unpossible." 
 
 It was a singular coincidence. At the same moment the 
 captain of the Nautilus was saying to his purser in the 
 privacy of a glass or so of hot whiskey in the stateroom of 
 the latter, which was also the " office," "Think the old tub 
 will pull through this time, Jim? " 
 
 " My life's insured," the purser replied as coolly. " In- 
 sured for my wife, heavy. Best speculation I know. So is 
 the Nautilus. Will she pull through? Can't say I do. 
 Don't see how she can. You heard those stevedores, cap- 
 tain ? They swore, only half in joke, they must have double 
 pay for putting that tobacco aboard. The very rustabouts 
 were afraid the weight would jar the old concern to flinders 
 here at the wharf." 
 
 "Oh, well ! " the other replied, as he drained his tumbler, 
 and drew on his waterproofs for deck service, " I'll resk it. 
 It's been a wonder to me for ten years how she stands it. 
 Resk it this time, any way ! " 
 
 Which was human nature. Even had Mr. Venable known
 
 IO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 every thing, being actually on board, and the boat having 
 started, his feeling, too, would have been, "Very well : I'll 
 risk it." Women excepted, the sentiment is, in all like cases, 
 spontaneous, universal, and of practical use. 
 
 Probably there were others who, knowing of the facts, had 
 concluded not to risk it : certainly there were few passen- 
 gers at the supper-table. The only one of these who seemed 
 disposed with such a roar of rain on the roof, and such a 
 convulsive effort of the intermittent engine below to con- 
 versation was an unusually large, florid, and genial-faced 
 gentleman, whom our passenger hoped might possibly be a 
 certain sugar-planter bearing a name familiar to him of 
 late. 
 
 "This seat, Gen. Buttolph," the captain said, as they sat 
 down, giving him the place of honor on his right. 
 
 " I am glad to know from your agent," the general replied, 
 as they took their seats, " glad to know," he repeated in a 
 hearty way, " that the Nautilus is thoroughly seaworthy. 
 Especially as it is storming so. More especially still as I 
 have my daughters with me : they are naturally timid, as 
 well as unused to the sea." / 
 
 " O papa ! how can you say so ? I adore the sea. You 
 know I told you so." It was the elder of the two young 
 ladies seated by their father who spoke. " It is Zeo you 
 mean," she added. 
 
 The young passenger sitting opposite them had already 
 glanced at the sister alluded to. While the one who spoke 
 was tall and fair, and apparently the most energetic and 
 talkative of the two, the other was low and dark, and yet 
 somehow much more attractive by reason of a sort of mean- 
 ing in the very repose of her silence. That might be mere 
 fancy ; yet she held his attention to a singular degree. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, miss. I think you said it was Miss 
 Irene, general? " And the captain hastened to add, " Have 
 some hot steak, ladies. Steward ! You were speaking of
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. II 
 
 the weather, general. It is merely a little rain. We always 
 have it as the year goes out. Allow me to introduce Mr. 
 I believe you said your name was " 
 
 " Venable, Hartman Venable," the person alluded to said, 
 with a bow over his plate. 
 
 " I thought so, papa ! " the elder of the young ladies ex- 
 claimed, with an energy that brought the blood to the cheek 
 of her sister. " You are, oh, so much younger than we 
 expected ! but " 
 
 " Irene ! " It was all her sister said, not looking up from 
 her plate in her modesty. But it checked her impulsive 
 sister as effectually as if she had placed her hand over her 
 mouth. 
 
 " I am glad to know you, Mr. Venable," their father said 
 at the moment. " I am Gen. Buttolph," shaking cordial 
 hands with him across the table. " You may remember the 
 name in the correspondence we have had with you. I am 
 pleased to know you," and he evidently was. 
 
 To Mr. Venable, after the wetting he had got, and in his 
 lonely estate, just separated from the entire world of his life 
 up to date, it was a thing particularly welcome to find him- 
 self with so hearty and wholesome a companion. In the 
 miserable little saloon tossing and tilting, the very presence 
 of such a friend gave assurance of a substantial world yet. 
 
 " These are my daughters, sir," the general added, waving a 
 large hand toward each. " My eldest, Irene ; my youngest, 
 Zenobia, but we call her Zeo. Zeno would have been more 
 natural as a pet name ; but he was a philosopher, somewhat 
 sour I am told." 
 
 " Is it all of your family? " asked Mr. Venable, with defer- 
 ence, and merely to make a beginning. 
 
 "All except one, our little boy in St. Jerome; our 
 spoiled baby," the general replied. " He is eight years old, 
 and his name is Theodore." 
 
 "Would you like to know what we call him? " asked the 
 elder of the sisters.
 
 12 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Certainly, if you please," the young gentleman replied, 
 falling into her mood. 
 
 " Grit : shameful, isn't it? Yes, Grit : in full, Clear Grit ; 
 he has been so self-willed ever since he was born. He is the 
 shortest and fattest boy you ever saw ; at least, he was when 
 we left home for school. He is going to be," Miss Irene 
 continued, " the living image of papa : he will lengthen out." 
 
 " Irene ! " It was all that her sister said ; but she again 
 yielded to the check, especially as the general began to speak 
 of St. Jerome, the city to which they were all bound. 
 
 The military steward smiled grimly as he helped the com- 
 pany to hot biscuit ; for the river down which they were sail- 
 ing was soon to end in the sea, a sea never more rough 
 than at this season. He was a Prussian soldier, who had 
 deserted Germany and glory for America and the saucepan ; 
 but his drill stuck to him still, and he presented the uncorked 
 mouth of the ale-bottle to the glass held out to him by the 
 captain as if it was the point, instead, of his sword in salute. 
 
 " Come, captain," said Gen. Buttolph, rising up after a 
 meal which had been lengthened out by much pleasant talk, 
 " you long as I do for a cigar and for the deck, if it does 
 rain ; " and the two disappeared. No one remained but the 
 young people and a sunburned seafaring man whom the 
 captain had introduced to them at table as Capt. Chaffin, 
 but who had eaten with mechanical movement of knife and 
 fork, taking no part in the conversation. Seated with his 
 chest and head projected at a considerable angle with the 
 back of his chair and over the table, he had struck Mr. 
 Venable as being ridiculously like the figure-head, carved 
 out of walnut, so very rigid and brown was he, of a 
 vessel under full sail, silence being apparently part of his 
 very nature. 
 
 Mr. Venable had small trouble to keep up the conversa- 
 tion which followed after the steward had cleared the table ; 
 and they had seated themselves again around it under the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 13 
 
 uncertain shining of the lamp swinging above, Miss Irene 
 hastening to entertain him. 
 
 " If you want to know all about us," she said, " there is 
 one more of our household to tell you of. We have got an 
 old uncle Plenty at home, and a young Plenty, and a Mrs. 
 Plenty, and all the rest ; but there is one more of us on 
 board." 
 
 "Irene," her sister said, "please don't. Mr. Venable can 
 hardly care to hear about our " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he does ! you do, I'm sure. Besides, we have 
 to become well acquainted some day, and why not at 
 once ? " demanded her lively sister. " Pa bought the one 
 I mean in the city yesterday. I mention her because I am 
 perplexed what to name her. Perhaps you can help me." 
 
 As she spoke she indicated by a motion of her thumb 
 over her shoulder a mulatto girl who was standing behind 
 her chair. Mr. Venable had already noticed her casually as 
 the prettiest quadroon he had ever seen. She wore a good 
 deal of brass jewelry about her neck, ears, and hands, and 
 seemed of too slight a form to do much hard work. A 
 crimson handkerchief of silk was wound about her black 
 and abundant hair; but it was the stag-like eyes of the 
 girl that struck him most, they were so large and so purely 
 animal. 
 
 " I lay awake last night, running over all the names I 
 could think of," her voluble young mistress continued, 
 " Flora, Cleopatra, Juno, Gloriana. How would Indiana 
 do?" 
 
 " Very well," the gentleman said ; " but, as you may know, 
 I have been for the last six years in college and seminary, 
 and have hardly seen one of your sex. How would Iphi- 
 genia do? " he added. 
 
 "Admirably. Remember," the young lady said to her 
 attendant, " your name is Iphigenia, Iph-i-genia : don't 
 forget."
 
 14 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Yes'm," the servant replied with a ready smile, and 
 showing her white teeth. Miss Irene changed the conversa- 
 tion, and Miss Zenobia seated by her was contented to listen 
 while the other proceeded to tell Mr. Venable that they had 
 not been in St. Jerome since their mother's death, two years 
 ago ; but she gave him a full description of the place and 
 people up to that date. Then, in answer to a question which 
 it required some swiftness on the young man's part to slip in, 
 she gave an account of their school. Mr. Venable enjoyed 
 the rapid talk of the eager girl, her hands and her fine eyes 
 as incessantly in motion as her tongue. And a vast deal she 
 had to tell about the principal of the school, " the hateful 
 madame ; the wretch, she painted so ! " she said at last. At 
 the word, Capt. Chaffin, reading near them, lowered his 
 paper as by a spasm, but lifted it again as she added, " Her 
 cheeks, I mean," and proceeded to speak of " the splendid 
 drives" about the school, "the miserable cookery," "the 
 awful meanness " of the school gardener, and of his "adora- 
 ble flowers." Then, in reply to a question, she hoped they 
 would have a real storm at sea, it was " so romantic," and a 
 good deal to that effect. All the time their bronzed fellow- 
 passenger had been seated with a newspaper, evidently ab- 
 sorbed in the slowly-read shipping intelligence, no more 
 interested in her rapid talk than if it had been, instead, the 
 whistling of a blackbird. And so for an hour. " But, O 
 Mr. Venable ! you ought to have seen our school gallery," 
 she was saying at last. " We had, I do believe, some of the 
 most glorious paintings." At the word the man laid down 
 his paper with an, 
 
 "Ahem!" There was such metallic sound in the ex- 
 clamation, that the energetic speaker paused. " Ahem ! 
 Pardon me. You were speaking of paintings," Capt. Chaf- 
 fin interposed, in dry accents. " My wife paints ; " and he 
 turned his eyes slowly and steadily upon his three compan- 
 ions, each in turn, to see the effect of the announcement.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 15 
 
 There was dead silence for a moment ; and then, with a sud- 
 den light breaking upon her face, the elder sister turned 
 upon the younger, opening her eyes to their utmost while 
 she slowly drew in her breath, an expression of comic 
 wonder on her face. But Mr. Venable's attention was drawn 
 from every thing else by the prompt action of Miss Zenobia, 
 who had hitherto sat so silent : there was quiet energy in it 
 as she laid firm hold upon her sister's arm, as if to prevent 
 some explosion, and said, 
 
 " You are Mrs. Capt. Chaffmgsby's husband ; are you not, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Chaffingsby, or Chaffin. Yes, miss," he answered : " I'm 
 Capt. Chaffin. It's my wife who paints" with stress on 
 the last word. "You've seen her paintings, miss?" with 
 slow but proud expectation. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she replied, tightening her hold on her sister's 
 arm, and coloring, but with great sweetness ; " and I was 
 much struck by them. Irene ! " she added, and then, 
 " please excuse us." 
 
 " It's the coming-on of sea-sickness, sir," Capt. Chaffin 
 said, in low and solemn accents, to young Venable, as the 
 ladies withdrew somewhat hastily. 
 
 "Why, hardly," his companion said : "we won't be out of 
 the river for hours." 
 
 " No, not you and me," said Capt. Chaffin in a hollow 
 whisper behind his hand. " It's their sex. We are nothing 
 but men, you see," with a downward motion of his brown 
 hand, and an odd contempt upon his stolid face. " Men ! 
 They are weemen ! We are tough, very tough. They're 
 as dedicate, now, as dreadful dedicate as as a a sea- 
 shell. That's where they get their nice tastes and touches. 
 That's how they come by their per-ception of beauty, their 
 genius. There's my wife, now ; " and the speaker paused 
 at the word, and sat, his head projected fonvard, his eyes 
 fastened upon the other side of the saloon, in rigid medita- 
 tion concerning the lady alluded to.
 
 l6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Have you any family besides?" his companion asked, 
 at last, since there evidently was so much of interest left 
 unsaid. 
 
 " Two children," Capt. Chaffin replied, " one boy, one 
 girl, twins, Clara, Charles. But I was not speaking of 
 them" he added, in such tones, that, although not knowing 
 at all why he should do so, Mr. Venable said, " Ah ! pray 
 excuse me." 
 
 "I was speaking of my wife," the other continued, as if 
 he were speaking of a city or an empire, "my wife ; " and 
 he turned his face full upon his companion, and announced 
 it as if it were a doctrine of theology or science. " She 
 paints. Paints pictures. She is the slightest woman you 
 ever saw. Pale. Thin. Dedicate. A breeze would blow 
 her away. A bad smell hits her like a capstan bar. You 
 might as well put a bullet in her stomach as a tough steak, 
 
 from a pistol, I mean. It is because she is all gone to 
 soul. She paints pictures, pictures almost as large as the 
 side of a ship." 
 
 " Ah ! " the other replied, greatly interested. " I will be 
 glad to know her. I am fond of pictures. I presume she 
 paints landscapes ? " 
 
 " Landscapes ! " Capt. Chaffin ejaculated, with contempt. 
 " Not a bit of it. Nor seascapes either. She paints " 
 and very slowly he added, after a pause, and in words 
 each to itself, " she paints Prophets. Apostles. Kings. 
 Martyrs. Evangelists. Seraphim. Cherubim. Archangels. 
 She has painted " and he looked steadily in the wondering 
 eyes of his new friend, " has painted our Lord himself, 
 and on the Mount of Transfiguration at that. She wanted " 
 
 and the seaman looked so long, without adding any 
 thing, into the eyes of the other, that Mr. Venable had to 
 say, " She wanted may I ask what? " 
 
 " She wanted to paint him on his throne in heaven, and 
 surrounded by all his saints ! That I would not allow. I
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. I/ 
 
 said, No! I said," continued Capt. Chaffin, "'You are 
 already as slim and frail, Angeline, as a bubble. You eat 
 nothing. You never sleep. Your soul is grand, but your 
 body has to have its rations too. As your husband, Ange- 
 line, you shall not! Apart from Charles and Clara, you have 
 other duties. Better slacken down instead. Slow yourself 
 down, if you must paint, by letting it be Phip Quatty, or me ; 
 ease yourself down to a horse or a dog or a negro baby ; 
 any thing.' I tell you, sir, for she wouldn't, she screamed 
 at the idea, I tell you, sir" and Capt. Chaffin leaned, 
 in his kindling enthusiasm, nearer to the one addressed, 
 lowering his tones to a whisper in the fervor of his feeling, 
 " I tell you, sir " 
 
 But, on the instant, Gen. Buttolph and the captain of 
 the Nautilus returned from deck. With their return the 
 light faded suddenly from the face of the admiring husband. 
 He drew himself back from his companion, took up his 
 newspaper again, and was nothing but a walnut figure-head 
 as before. " It was well I did," he added, full ten minutes 
 after, in a whisper to Mr. Venable, from behind cover of 
 his paper, " well I did ! It would have killed her, sir, 
 killed her dead."
 
 1 8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN WHICH WE FIND THAT TO LEAVE AN OLD WORLD IS NOT 
 ALWAYS TO STEP ASHORE RIGHT AWAY UPON A NEW. 
 
 HARTMAN VENABLE went to his stateroom as Gen. 
 Buttolph and the captain of the vessel entered the 
 cabin. Entertaining as Miss Irene's talk was, and still more 
 attractive to him as was her silent sister, he had been 
 wishing to do so for some time. With the first day rapidly 
 approaching of the new year he would be twenty-one ; and 
 he intended, before he went to sleep, to make a new and 
 special consecration of himself to his work. 
 
 His history up to that moment can be put into a brief 
 compass. Born in a Southern State, his parents had died 
 as he left school, leaving him without brother or sister, and, 
 as he was quite poor, no relative to claim any interest in 
 him. By hard work he had contrived to scramble through 
 college, and, after that, through a training for the pulpit. 
 Owing to the stringency of his circumstances, he had been 
 compelled to devote himself to his studies to the neglect 
 of his bodily strength. He stood none the less at the head 
 of his class when he graduated at the Northern seminary 
 in which his course was completed. When, therefore, the 
 institution was written to for their best man, from the impor- 
 tant South-western city of St. Jerome, he was immediately 
 selected and sent. Like the wheat-seed held so long in the 
 hand of the Egyptian mummy, his arrested health and vigor
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 19 
 
 needed but the opportunity to assert itself. Conscious that 
 he had been too long shut up to books and from men, he 
 was eager to give himself heartily in whatever direction his 
 work should open to him ; specially glad to get back to 
 his native South, and into so fresh and promising a part 
 thereof. 
 
 But he had not counted upon coming so soon in his 
 career upon ladies like these, and especially upon one such 
 as the younger of the two sisters. The older of them had 
 told him, amid a good deal of other information, that Zeo 
 was not yet eighteen ; and he felt, that, being three years her 
 senior, he had a right to admire her as the loveliest lady he 
 had ever seen ; to admire her so much, in fact, separated 
 as he had been from the sex so long, as materially to inter- 
 fere with the train of meditation he had intended to pursue. 
 
 As he strove to turn his mind from her, there was a knock 
 at his door, and the captain of the steamer came in. 
 
 "I didn't like to mention it," he said mysteriously, "to 
 Gen. Buttolph, seeing he has his daughters aboard." 
 
 " Sir? " the other said. " I do not understand " 
 
 " I would rather you would not lock yourself in to-night," 
 the captain said in a low tone, closing the door of the little 
 room after him. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded the other, in surprise. 
 
 " I'm not the agent," the captain said, " and of course 
 you'll be quiet about it. I don't sell the tickets, nor do any 
 of the writing-out, any more than I do the sticking-up, of 
 the steamship posters. It's very stormy, and the Nautilus 
 wasn't launched yesterday." 
 
 "I do not understand you," the other repeated, under- 
 standing him perfectly none the less, more from the manner 
 of the captain than from his words. 
 
 "Yes, you do," the seaman said. "And Gen. Buttolph, 
 too ; he ought to have known better than to bring his girls 
 aboard. But she may stand it." With which words he 
 withdrew.
 
 2O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Young and strong as he was, the passenger felt a numb- 
 ness in his very fingers' ends as he shut his door ; and then, 
 drawing on his overcoat, but exchanging his boots for a pair 
 of slippers from his trunk, as a sort of gear he could more 
 easily kick off in case there was any swimming to be done, 
 he stole out by way of the deserted cabin to the deck. The 
 rain had ceased, as if blown out of existence by the furious 
 wind. It was as dark as if the darkness was a solid some- 
 thing pinning them down upon the writhing sea for the wind 
 to scourge. The lantern aloft and the light in the binnacle 
 only made the night seem more dense and dreadful. Not 
 merely the howling hatred, as it were, of the wind : the 
 motion, too, of the vessel rendered it impossible to stand ; 
 and, staggering to one side, the youth laid hold upon what 
 he took to be a mass of sail, very wet. " What pitiful 
 insects we are ! " he said, trying to adjust himself to a new 
 and peculiar rise and fall of the steamship as it left the river 
 for the gea. "Listen to the consumptive rattle of that 
 engine below. Three wise men of Gotham went to sea hi 
 a bowl. If the bowl had been stronger, my song had been 
 longer. One ought to have serious thoughts. It is strange 
 I should be so foolish just now, and so glad too. But, yes, 
 how weak is man " 
 
 "Like being aboard an egg-shell," the roll of sail to 
 which, as he supposed, he had been holding, remarked at 
 this moment, in a lull of the wind. 
 
 " You don't think she is strong," he replied, letting go in 
 his surprise, then laying hold of him again. 
 
 "Strong enough," his companion said, when another 
 pause of the wind allowed, "for a pickerel pond, with 
 weemin for a crew. Weemin ought never to go from 
 shore : their sphere is on land, where things " and the 
 last words had to be spoken in a shout "is tasty and 
 deel-i-cate" at the top of his voice, such was the fury 
 of the wind ; and Mr. Venable knew that the bundle of 
 dripping sail was no other than Capt. Chaffin.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 21 
 
 "Why did the captain start? Why didn't he anchor 
 before we left the river?" the other shouted, as the storm 
 lowered enough to allow of it. But the tempest was howl- 
 ing the same questions, with (as in the case of every thing 
 when it is working itself into a passion) ascending inflec- 
 tions ; and Capt. Chaffin had to wait, to wait so long, that, 
 absorbed in the grandeur of the occasion, young Venable 
 had forgotten what he had asked, when, the uproar allowing 
 of it, his companion shouted, 
 
 " Instructions ! Insured ! Money ! They stay &-shore ! " 
 the last syllable in competition with the blast rising again. 
 The young man understood it as an allusion to the owners ; 
 yet, terrible as the hour was, he had no wish to be on shore 
 with them. Although he was slightly built for his years, and 
 pretty thoroughly exhausted by a course of hard study ; and 
 although the midnight lamp had been fed, in fact, by the fat 
 (if such an impropriety may be allowed) of his body, the 
 marrow of his youthful bones having been fallen back upon 
 when that was gone, yet the over-culture of mind had 
 resulted in the increase of that which is the very fat and 
 marrow of the mind, will-power. Will, the most splendid 
 gift God gives, and that which most establishes our kinship 
 to the Executive of the universe. It did its best, the will of 
 this young man, to make up to and for the body what it had 
 stolen from the body. It helped the eyes to see, where they 
 would otherwise have been shut ; it made the feet go, the 
 hands work, the lips laugh, the heart beat as merrily as a 
 kettle-drum ; and all when, apart from such a will, the wea- 
 ried body couldn't and wouldn't. At that instant the stom- 
 ach of the man would have been deadly seasick ; but the 
 man himself, which means the man's will, would not hear of 
 such a thing. Bodily speaking, he was in awful fear of being 
 drowned, if it were not that this will of his, since it could 
 not be drowned by all the water earth has, would not let him 
 be afraid, made him glad instead.
 
 22 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 As Capt. Chaffin shouted the last words recorded, there 
 had been a general movement of the crew forward ; one 
 could feel it was so, rather than see it in the darkness, or 
 hear it in the uproar. A yell from the seaman by his side 
 sounded like " pumps ! " and, clinging to his companion, the 
 young man crowded a place for himself at the brakes, and 
 worked as he had never wrought before, even at the toughest 
 place in his Hebrew Bible. After some hours of this, and 
 when he could pump no more, another way of working came 
 into his mind. Staggering, tumbling, crawling, rolling from 
 side to side with the laboring vessel, aided by an opportune 
 pitch of the same in that direction, he descended the stairs 
 into the cabin. Gathering himself up, for he had fallen 
 head foremost, he worked his way to Gen. Buttolph's state- 
 room, and, after banging at the door in vain, opened it and 
 went in. To his astonishment the general had wedged him- 
 self tight into his berth by means of his carpet-bags and 
 valises, and was sound asleep. An unusually large man, in 
 full flesh, the power in this case lay on the side of the body. 
 It used its dead force in that direction, and slept ; slept under 
 the inertia of his full weight down that line, slept like a big 
 babe being rocked by the ocean as if it were its mother, so 
 profoundly that his visitor had great difficulty in awakening 
 and then in explaining matters to him. On the instant of 
 entering the room, he had observed a strong smell of bran- 
 dy, so strong that he had said to himself, " I suppose the 
 general brought a flask in case of sickness, and it has got 
 smashed. Whew ! It must have been a demijohn instead 
 of a flask." 
 
 " Miss Buttolph ! " he cried, beating at the door of the 
 ladies' room while the father very slowly and stupidly arose 
 and dressed himself, " Miss Zenobia ! Miss Irene ! Don't be 
 alarmed. Please get up ! " 
 
 He need not have slipped into his own room after doing 
 so, as hastily as he did ; for, although Miss Zenobia came out
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 23 
 
 on the instant, she had been neither undressed nor asleep. 
 On returning he saw, by the dim shining of the lamp swing- 
 ing violently to and fro, that the general and his daughters 
 had come into the saloon, and were holding to each other 
 and to the table. Hardly awake as yet, the father was ex- 
 plaining to them that there was no cause for alarm at all, no 
 actual danger. " At the same time," he repeated, " it is best 
 to be awake and prepared ; " and he continued repeating 
 at intervals, " best to be prepared, best to be prepared," in a 
 somewhat sodden manner which surprised his new acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 As Venable looked at the general saying this, he saw that 
 there is a sort of strength in avoirdupois too ; and in a 
 man on that account as well as in a pyramid. Evidently the 
 general felt in a dull sort of way the peril they were in; 
 knew there was nothing to do but to await the result, was 
 apathetic, and therefore calm. There was, however, both in 
 the general and his elder daughter, an air of deference to 
 the younger of the sisters, which perplexed their companion. 
 Both father and daughter seemed as children in a certain 
 indefinable bearing on their part toward her. And this was 
 the more striking by reason of the comparative quietness 
 and silence of the one they seemed so to lean upon. There 
 was nothing their fellow-passenger could do on deck until 
 he had rested a little ; and, with the quickened eyes of his 
 great excitement, he could not but closely observe the two 
 sisters. He had heard the shriek of Irene, who had been 
 almost as sound asleep as her father, when her sister had first 
 awakened her, followed by outcries on her part, and lamen- 
 tations, shrill and unceasing. Her clothing had been hast- 
 ily put on, more by her sister's hands than her own ; and 
 now, with streaming hair, and hands clutching at and clinging 
 to every object and person around, she kept exclaiming, 
 
 " O father ! O Zeo ! what shall we do ? Why did you 
 make us come ? Oh, how it rolls and tosses ! Every dish on
 
 24 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 board must be broken. How wet we will get ! And there 
 is poor brother Grit. What will become of Grit if Zeo is 
 drowned ? He is so bad, so very bad ! Where is Mr. Vena- 
 ble ? Oh, here you are ! Can't you do something to stop it ? 
 I am so wicked, I don't want to die. O Zeo, Zeo ! " and it 
 was the firm grasp of her younger sister upon her which 
 seemed to hold her from greater violence. Even at that 
 moment, the wind coming and going like a charge of cavalry, 
 the sea surging over the deck with a hissing wash, now and 
 then the yell and jump of some one of the crew upon the 
 roof overhead, amid it all Venable could not refrain from 
 wondering at the contrast of Zeo to the other. He had 
 casually admired her black hair and eyes, and the moulded 
 contour of cheek and lip and chin ; but the repose of her 
 manner had seemed so full of strength, as in relief against 
 the unrest of her sister, that he had, during all their gay 
 talk the hours before, listened only less to her silence than 
 he had to her sister's incessant and amusing speech. In 
 some way the modest girl seemed to be taller and stronger 
 now. She had more to say, the authority of her words as 
 marked as their sweetness ; the general as well as Irene giv- 
 ing an attention and value to them, the looker-on tried once 
 more, but in vain, to account for. And so the storm con- 
 tinued to rage ; the elder daughter passing from one passion- 
 ate appeal to another, struggling to rise, and held down more 
 by the hand and voice of her sister than of her father. It 
 was a curious study to their fellow-passenger, too, to see how 
 passive the portly general was, even at the worst assaults of 
 the tempest. Singularly lethargic, but with an occasional 
 hopeful word, he did not arise from his seat the night 
 through ; his elder daughter weeping, praying, remonstrating 
 with her father for bringing them, subsiding into quiet not 
 until worn out or stilled, as a fractious child might be, by the 
 low-spoken girl to whom she clung. As to Venable, the night 
 fled fast enough, going to, and coming back when utterly ex-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2$ 
 
 hausted by hard work from, the pumps. There were rapid 
 periods on his part, of prayer ; the periods, however, of prac- 
 tical piety at the pumps, were much the longest. He could 
 not but observe as he worked, crowded in among the crew, 
 how their profanity, too, became, like his own supplications, 
 terser and more thoroughly intended. 
 
 In going and returning to and from deck, he had observed 
 a heap of what seemed woman's clothing lying in a corner 
 of the cabin. It almost startled him to see, when the, vessel 
 was struck with a harder wave than usual, a pale face and a 
 pair of terrified eyes looking out from the heap. It was the 
 quadroon girl, deadly sick, and even more utterly helpless 
 than the ladies ; and in that condition she remained, with 
 scarce a motion of life, during the three days of the tempest. 
 She was a beautiful and terrified animal, nothing more either 
 to the others or to herself than that. 
 
 As the young man was going back to the deck on one 
 occasion, after resting a little in the saloon, the younger of 
 the sisters accompanied him. The elder was lying worn out 
 in her father's arms ; and wrapping herself up, with merely a 
 word of request to that effect, not heeding his remonstrances, 
 she silently persisted in going outside. The instant they 
 stepped on deck, she laid hold on the nearest rope, taut as a 
 harp-string in the wet and strain on it, and abandoned his arm 
 altogether. It was as if she wanted to face and see for her- 
 self the utmost of the peril. Not that any thing was really 
 to be seen. So small a portion of the vessel itself was visi- 
 ble in the pitchy darkness, that it might have been a nutshell 
 on which they stood ; the smoke-stack beside them, and its 
 whirl overhead of sparks, absurdly too large for the seem- 
 ing size of the bit of boat -writhing and rolling and pitching 
 beneath. But the wind, the wind ! It was as if the force 
 of the universe had broken bounds, and was upon them ; 
 simply force, invisible, irresistible, force pure and awful. 
 It seemed to Venable as if it were sufficient to blow the 
 earth from its orbit.
 
 26 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " As Sure as I live," he said to himself, " this tremendous 
 power and pressure upon me, as upon every one here, is 
 intended to effect some commensurate result. What re- 
 sult?" 
 
 His companion remained beside him in the darkness as if 
 she, too, enjoyed the storm. They stood side by side in 
 silence, holding on only by firmest grasp upon rope and 
 spar, until a shriek from her sister, for the first time missing 
 her from the saloon, recalled the young girl below deck. 
 Her companion assisted her down, and returned again ; and 
 so the hours wore by as if they were being slowly ground 
 away in the mill of the tempest. 
 
 As day dawned Capt. Chaffin lowered himself down the 
 companion-way. Irene lifted her head, her hair falling in 
 disorder around it, for he struck violently against the table 
 in taking a seat. She looked vacantly at him a moment, 
 dazed with exhaustion after her excitement, and then, to the 
 astonishment of Venable, burst into a peal of laughter 
 which threatened to become hysterical. 
 
 " I understand," the captain said to Venable, seated 
 beside him. " It's their nature. Excitable. That's where 
 they ain't like us. Their pecooliar power lies just there ; " 
 and the seaman sat steadily in his seat, rigid as oak, ex- 
 cept for an admiring deference in his manner to the ladies 
 present. 
 
 "After what she has stood," he said in reply to a low 
 question from Gen. Buttolph about the boat, " she cannot 
 hold together. We must go down " But, almost before 
 the words were spoken, the other passenger anticipated the 
 outcries of any there by saying, " Let us pray." It was 
 hard to hold themselves in a kneeling posture around the 
 table ; but there was deep silence during the short prayer, 
 and when they arose a calmness deeper still had fallen upon 
 all there. 
 
 " Ahem ! It's a miracle we're afloat," Capt. Chaffin said,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2/ 
 
 breaking in upon the silence. " After last night the Nau- 
 tilus may hold together for ever and ever, for all I know. 
 And it don't matter, any way. My wife's in St. Jerome. 
 With this awful north-easter a-blowing, she might as well be 
 aboard this old canoe. You know it, general : you live 
 there. The wind has banked up the water of the bay, the 
 rivers and such like pouring into the bay steady. St. Je- 
 rome's a good two to six feet under water now. A house is 
 worse to go to sea in than even this old boat. If this wind 
 holds, St. Jerome's gone under, sure's you're alive ! We 
 might as well be here ; " and Gen. Buttolph gave Mr. Vena- 
 ble a slight nod of assent. The general had been thinking, 
 doubtless, of nothing else, and it accounted perhaps for his 
 passive condition. 
 
 "St. Jerome," he said at last, "is a beautiful city; but it 
 is built on a reef of sand." 
 
 " And twenty feet of water piled up on it by this wind 
 would melt it as if it was a lump of salt," Capt. Chaffin 
 added sententiously. " Every now and then the yellow-fever 
 pounces down on the island. Almost all who stay die : all 
 the rest run away inland. They come back as soon as it's 
 all over, and say, ' Pshaw ! the yellow-fever may not come 
 again for years.' So with an overflow : the city comes 
 within an ace of destruction. There's a terrible to-do, 
 ships dashing against houses, sloops away up the streets. 
 All at once the wind goes down ; out goes the ocean. The 
 island gives itself a shake like a Newfoundland dog com- 
 ing out of water. ' Nonsense ! ' they say to strangers : ' it 
 didn't drown us out at last, and it may not happen again for 
 a century ; ' and at it we all go again, a-bargaining and 
 a-building, and a-making fun of Chemaraw, the next city 
 higher up inland." 
 
 No one denied the statements of the experienced mariner, 
 and he continued, 
 
 " We all have noticed how lively frogs are after a heavy
 
 28 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 rain ; the birds singing in the chapparal too, for that matter, 
 as chirky as you please. So it is with people on the island. 
 Things get to be flat and dull. Very well. A good over- 
 flow comes. The Chemaraw people sing out, ' Told you 
 so ! You'd better give it up, and move your city up here.' 
 That and the storm stirs up St. Jerome. The town is never 
 so full of brag as when it is drying itself. They are as gen- 
 erous to the losers as you please, and full of life and fun. 
 Mr. Parsons flies around, and says, ' What do you think of 
 Hacamac now ? ' and plasters the town all over with his 
 posters, giving away his lots there to whoever will build. I 
 have noticed it makes Phip Quatty's very horses go faster, 
 to say nothing of him on Wednesday nights at prayer-meet- 
 ing. And there's my wife," Capt. Chaffin added, after a 
 long silence, since no one else would cheer away the anxiety 
 of the hour : " she paints. She generally paints. Not like 
 she does after an overflow ! ah, but how she goes to work 
 with her brush and things after that ! I tell her to paint a 
 storm. But no. Then let it be a ship, I tell her, under all 
 sail ; say a steamship under a full head of steam, plenty of 
 smoke, and in the trough of the sea while the gale is blow- 
 ing. ' Let it be a bayou-boat exploding her boiler, my dear,' 
 I say to her, ' all hands a-flying through the air.' ' Never ! 
 A living being,' she says, ' in this world or the other, angel 
 or martyr, is the only thing.' Maybe she is right. She 
 never painted any thing but a conqueror, or an apostle of 
 some sort, in her life, always the grandest people and 
 when they are doing their very best. Yes ; and I can put my 
 hand on her Elymas, say, struck blind by Paul, or the man 
 that was healed in Jerusalem, shaking his fist at the council 
 of Jews, and say, 'That was painted after a storm, and I 
 know it.' She puts, you see, such an overflow-like into the 
 thing. Yes, sir. How a storm does stir her up, and start 
 her again ! " 
 
 But the ladies had gone to their room at the captain's
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 29 
 
 first allusion to his wife, and even Mr. Venable was too 
 tired to express much interest. After sitting a while in 
 silence, Capt. Chaffin somewhat indignantly arose, and went 
 on deck again, went on deck to find that the morning 
 had dawned, pale, haggard, and tremulous, after the ex- 
 cesses of the night.
 
 3O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXPLAINING HOW THIS COLUMBUS SETS HIS FOOT AT LAST 
 UPON THE SHORES OF A NEW LAND. 
 
 AS day broke, Hartman Venable lay down in his state- 
 room for a nap, exhausted almost as much by the 
 agony of Irene Buttolph as by the violence of the wind and 
 the toil at the pumps. Instead of a nap he slept the deep 
 sleep, almost, of the dead, leaping up suddenly out of it to 
 find, with surprise and shame, that during his slumber it was 
 late the next morning, the wind still blowing as furiously as 
 ever. It was the steward whose knock aroused him for the 
 late breakfast ; and the military manner in which that indi- 
 vidual did it, waiting at table afterwards as if going through 
 the drill, was singularly re-assuring. 
 
 " We are glad to see you looking so fresh again," was 
 Gen. Buttolph's salutation as each passenger held on to 
 the table with one hand, and managed to eat with the 
 other. There was still greater re-assurance in the inertia of 
 the portly general, to say nothing of the glow in his broad 
 and genial face. 
 
 " They are both asleep," he said, in reply to a question. 
 " Irene was worn out with her terrors, and Zeo with comfort- 
 ing her. I hope they may sleep through it all." And the 
 speaker proceeded to inform his friend that such storms 
 always lasted three days, so that they had two days more of 
 it yet to endure.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 31 
 
 " That is," Capt. Chaffin, who had joined them, explained, 
 "if the Nautilus holds together; and that is impossible. 
 As the ladies are asleep, I might as well say it," he con- 
 tinued : "we are too tough, being men, to care. Yet I don't 
 know," he corrected himself in a mechanical way, after a 
 long pause. " You see, this old shell ought to have gone to 
 flinders the moment the wind struck her. She's a living 
 miracle, and she has been for years on years. When a mira- 
 cle's on hand, no man can tell what'll happen." Having 
 said which, he became grimly silent. 
 
 Young Venable found, during the day, that the captain of 
 the boat, the engineers and firemen, the deck-hands and 
 steerage-passengers, had all reached the same conclusion, 
 had found, in fact, considerable consolation in the very 
 wonder of the thing ; the comfort therein strengthening as 
 the storm howled the day through, pitching and tossing the 
 boat about upon the yeasty waves. Somehow, in virtue of 
 its being but the biggest of the bubbles thereupon, it would 
 not break; and so another night at the pumps came and 
 went. When the next day came, the wonder of all on board 
 had deepened into a superstition, a fanaticism. The pas- 
 sengers had crystallized, so to speak, into a dogmatic sect in 
 regard to the endurance of their boat. 
 
 " Oh, blow away and be hanged ! " Capt. Chaffin remarked 
 contemptuously, at breakfast that day, as the wind shrieked 
 overhead in a louder gust than usual. " That's why," he 
 added, his mouth at the ear of Mr. Venable, seated beside 
 him, " they call a ship a she. A boat may be as frail as 
 as you please, and yet capable of? Things a he can't 
 even begin to try to do ! St. Jerome's my fear." 
 
 " It is Mrs. Chaffingsby he means," Miss Zeo told Mr. 
 Venable, when, the captain having left the table, he repeated 
 the remark to her ; and again her sister went off into a fit 
 of laughter, only less violent, by reason of weariness, than 
 on the occasion before.
 
 32 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " We sleep almost all the time," she informed Mr. Vena- 
 ble more than once ; " and when I'm not in an agony of 
 fear, I'm in a gale of fun. Zeo is kept busy being a mother 
 to me, as she always was, dear little body." But this phrase 
 of endearment did not seem at all applicable to the lady 
 spoken of. She was seated at the table, her hands lying 
 clasped together before her upon it ; and although she lifted 
 her head, and smiled, there was that in her which- reminded 
 him of the repose of a lioness. As he blushed to think such 
 a thing of so modest a girl, her older sister exclaimed in con- 
 tinuation of her lively talk, " See, sir, if I'm not the first to 
 wake you to-morrow." 
 
 And she was. Before the sun rose on that Sunday morn- 
 ing, she was beating upon Mr. Venable's door, and calling, 
 " St. Jerome, St. Jerome ! O Mr. Venable, come and see ! " 
 
 Dressing himself as swiftly as he could, he hastened on 
 deck to find the old world gone forever, and the new world 
 arrived. The last three days lay behind him like three 
 years, rather, of trouble, a blessedness in its very darkness 
 and storm now that it was gone. For here was a new world 
 indeed. He could not speak at first, by reason of gladness. 
 The very atmosphere seemed electric with new life. 
 
 " Oh ! is it not glorious? " she exclaimed. " Look ! there 
 is not a cloud in the sky, so blue and deep. And the sea, 
 too. It lies, see, as blue and calm and pure as the sky, 
 with not a ripple. The air is as gentle as the breath of a 
 babe. Don't you see that long line of sand off to the right, 
 and the houses and steeples, barely above the level of the 
 water? That is St. Jerome. And, oh ! the flowers there, 
 and the fig-trees, and the glorious drives, and such nice 
 people, not a bit like those anywhere else in the world. 
 You dear thing ! " and in her joyousness the young lady 
 startled her companion in the instant of her ejaculation, 
 by putting her arms around the mast by which they were 
 standing, and giving it a kiss as well as a hug. " Won't
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 33 
 
 I do instead?" was what her companion asked her; but 
 by no means aloud. That was one of the ten thousand 
 things which he had habitually to keep himself from saying. 
 " You dear, good old boat, to bring us so safely," she said, 
 her arms still about the mast, "when all the people were 
 abusing you so, calling you old ! Draw in the delicious air 
 as I do, Mr. Venable;" and she inhaled with parted lips 
 the fresh breeze, her bosom rising, her cheek glowing, her 
 eyes radiant with joy. " That is the way it will be when I 
 get to heaven," she said. " I will be so glad to be done 
 with such a world ! It isn't the storms I object to at all. 
 I rather like a good rousing fuss of any kind, especially 
 when it is over. What I hate is the everlasting propriety. 
 One dare not do or say any thing now, but it is, ' O Irene, 
 don't ! ' and ' O Irene, hush ! ' If I let myself go for one 
 little moment, there are fifty people to hold up their hands 
 with horror, and say, ' O Irene ! are you not ashamed of 
 yourself? ' I hate such a world. I want to be where a 
 girl can be as full of fun, and as free, as she feels like. I 
 want to go where Miss Aurelia Jones will never shake her 
 curls at me again forever. That's my idea of heaven," she 
 added with enthusiasm : " to be and to do and to say, for 
 ever and evermore, amen, exactly what I please. I am so 
 glad we are done with school ! St. Jerome's like heaven in 
 that : people don't care a cent 
 
 "And that, I suppose," her companion said, pointing to a 
 pilot-yacht under full sail for them, " is like " 
 
 " I know what you mean," she interrupted ; " is like an 
 angel see its white sails ! sent out from heaven to show a 
 soul just arriving the way. I am so glad, I believe I could 
 fly ! " And the girl stretched out her arms, her hair falling 
 back from her uplifted head, such high spirits in her tones, 
 her complexion flushed so with light, that, turning to look 
 at Mr. Venable, she could not but color at the smile in his 
 face.
 
 34 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "And here is papa, and Zeo. Was ever any thing so 
 beautiful?" she said, as the general and her sister joined 
 them, and stood looking in silence upon the scene. "See," 
 she continued, " yonder is the sun, just rising out of the 
 ocean. It looks like a great bubble of gold. Did you ever 
 see it appear so clean and sweet, as if it had been scrubbed 
 and scoured by the wind and the water? " And as she gave 
 words to her eagerness, her younger sister stood beside her 
 very happy, and yet dark and silent, and even dull in com- 
 parison, not nearly as tall as the other, and much less as 
 radiant ; miniature likeness, Mr. Venable said to himself, of 
 her father, by whose side she stood. 
 
 "Why is it?" he asked of himself. "Why do I admire 
 her so much the most?" 
 
 Meanwhile the pilot had reached them, and had climbed 
 up the side, looking, as he did so, closely and inquiringly 
 at the hull and deck and spars of the vessel. He fastened 
 his eyes for a moment upon each person he saw, in the same 
 way. 
 
 "And she pulled through it?" he demanded of the cap- 
 tain of the boat, not shaking hands as Mr. Venable had 
 expected, but offering the other instead, and unasked, his 
 plug of tobacco accompanied by his jack-knife. 
 
 The captain nodded his head as he took the plug, cut off 
 a quid therefrom, and put it slowly and with a meditative 
 manner in his mouth,' a something too great for words in his 
 way of doing it. 
 
 "And St. Jerome sailed it out too," he said at last. 
 
 "You bet," the pilot replied. "Our chances and yours 
 were just even. Six of one, half a dozen of the other." 
 
 " You may tell me any sea-serpent story you please, now," 
 Capt. Chaffin, who had joined the other two men, and taken 
 his cut at the plug, remarked. " Don't stop at trifles : string 
 his tail out six miles, if you want to, six hundred, for that 
 matter. I'm your man ; yes, sir, go ahead : I am ready for 
 any thing."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 35 
 
 But the firemen had thrown into the furnaces the last 
 shovels of coal left in the bunks, and were engaged in pitch- 
 ing in the materials of the bunks themselves to add to the 
 smoke and speed, and grandeur in general, of their arrival. 
 The vessel did not steam straight for the city, which had 
 now risen entirely above the water, as Mr. Venable had 
 vainly hoped. Making a sweep completely around it, the 
 city being upon the side of the island looking toward the 
 main land, the boat reached the landing as rapidly as its 
 disabled condition would allow. As they drew near he 
 could not but agree with the rapture of Irene Buttolph, com- 
 ing and going between her father and sister and himself. 
 
 " Is it not the most beautiful picture in the world ? All 
 the houses near the edge of the island are stone and brick, 
 you see," she explained ; " they look so strong along the 
 side of the sea, like bulwarks, you know. They are the 
 warehouses, cotton- presses, and stores. Behind them are 
 the long, broad streets of houses where the people live. 
 See, every house is as white as white can be, except the 
 blinds of the windows and verandas, and they are as green 
 as the trees. You can't see half the city, it's all buried so 
 in oleanders, orange-trees, and lemons. Oh, isn't it lovely ! 
 I was born there, you know." 
 
 "It may be all owing," Mr. Venable said, "to the storm 
 we have been through, the danger and the darkness ; and 
 I have had years back of that, of pretty dark times and hard 
 work. Perhaps it is this clear sky and brilliant light. The 
 air is so crisp and fresh too. It may be because I am 
 twenty-one years old to-day ; it is Sunday, also, and that may 
 be one reason. Whatever it is," he added, turning to the 
 young girl, " this is by far the most glorious morning I ever 
 knew. I'm entering on a new world ; and I feel so fresh 
 and strong ! I will remember this day as long as I live : it 
 is the first day of a new year, and I feel sure it will be a 
 year worth living."
 
 36 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 He was a comely young fellow, really as full of enthusi- 
 asm as the lady to whom he spoke, save that he had long 
 ago deepened himself, so to speak, by severe study and 
 small companionship with others, in such a degree as to hold 
 within himself, and without too much overflow, all excess of 
 feeling. 
 
 As they drew near, their vessel at least, to the landing, the 
 bold front of the city rose higher and higher, and then tow- 
 ered protectingly above them. Upon the wharf there had 
 gathered a large crowd of men and boys. They stood 
 gazing at the boat as it approached, with silent but intense 
 interest. Mr. Venable had observed among the throng a par- 
 ticularly tall and vigorous individual, dressed in black broad- 
 cloth as if for church. He was standing up on top of one 
 of the piles which projected above the edge of the wharf. 
 
 "Yonder is Mr. Quatty, Zeo," said Gen. Buttolph, with 
 placid amusement. " You certainly remember Mr. Quatty. 
 That is the one on the top of the post, Mr. Venable," he 
 continued. " He is one of our pillars. You will find him 
 one of the most remarkable men," he added, with a smile 
 upon his face which his friend could not fully understand. 
 
 " Fellow-citizens," the person alluded to called out at 
 this moment, assuming, as he took off his hat, the attitude 
 and the oratorical tone of a public speaker, "this is the 
 holy sabbath day. To our unspeakable astonishment the 
 old Nautilus has survived once more. In view of its 
 being Sunday, and of this old Lazarus coming up again 
 from a briny sepulchre, I wish, before proposing a few 
 cheers, to make some appropriate remarks. Brethren I 
 mean fellow-citizens and brethren ahem ! When we 
 consider" with a gesture. But, on the instant, a dozen 
 voices called out, " Three cheers ! Yes, three cheers ! " 
 There was much movement and laughter. " In one mo- 
 ment, brethren I mean fellow-citizens," Mr. Quatty con- 
 tinued, motioning eagerly, and by a suppressing movement
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 37 
 
 of both his palms extended over their heads, for the crowd 
 to be still. " I wish to offer a few remarks. When we re- 
 flect" But the voice of the speaker was drowned in 
 laughter and calls for cheers, a number of persons crying 
 out, " Hold your horses, Quatty ! " and the three cheers 
 were given by the crowd with a will, the orator being ig- 
 nominiously hustled from his perch at the moment by the 
 striking of the boat against the landing, many jumping on 
 and off long before the vessel was secured to the wharf 
 or the gangways laid. In the confusion of the in-rushing and 
 out-going crowds, Gen. Buttolph laid his cordial grasp upon 
 his friend. 
 
 " Remember," he said, " you go with us. But I wonder 
 where the carriage is ; " and he leaned over the side of the 
 upper deck, looking up and down the streets running along- 
 side the wharf. 
 
 " O papa ! " exclaimed his eldest daughter, in a fever of 
 excitement, " yonder is old Plenty and young Plenty, just 
 the same, and I have not seen them for two years ; and see, 
 Grit is with them. Grit ! " she called, " Clear Grit ! ' but then 
 yielded to her sister's silencing hand. By this time a very 
 old, tall, and white-headed negro had followed a stout, thick- 
 set man many shades blacker, who had forced his way to the 
 edge of the landing below. 
 
 "Well, boys, where's the carriage? " cried the general. 
 
 "You hush. Shet your mouth," the older of the two men 
 said, laying his long hand on the shoulder of the other. 
 " Massa General's talkin ' to me. Yes, massa. No kerrige, 
 massa. Kerrige-house swept away. Hain't had time to 
 hunt for the kerrige yet. Somewhere in de prairie." 
 
 " That's a fact," his master said with emphasis. " I had 
 forgotten. Is the house left, Plenty ? " 
 
 "Shet up. Lemme talk," the old man replied. "Yes, 
 Massa Harry, but wet, mighty wet," with an ominous shake 
 of his venerable head.
 
 38 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Oh, well ! " said Gen. Buttolph, amid the exclamations of 
 Irene, " never mind. Get one of Mr. Quatty's hacks. Oh, 
 here is Mr. Quatty ! How are you, Mr. Quatty ? These 
 are my daughters, from school. This is Mr. Venable. Can 
 you let us have a hack?" and the young gentleman last 
 named found his hand grasped, and heartily, by the orator 
 of the moment before. He was a large-limbed man, tough 
 and vigorous. His body seemed to be more loosely framed 
 than is usual ; the arms being particularly long, with large 
 and sinewy hands thereto. His face, which was thoroughly 
 burned and roughened by the sun and rain and wind 
 of forty years, was one which the other thought he could 
 read at once. No traces of books, or society, or culture of 
 any kind, there ; but, except for a restlessness of eyes and 
 manner, a kind, shrewd, and honest face. On the instant he 
 took a liking to him. 
 
 " We are going to get well acquainted, sir," Mr. Quatty 
 said, keeping the hand of the other in his own. 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," Gen. Buttolph said, with a sort 
 of comic- emphasis ; " but you must get us home now, Mr. 
 Quatty." 
 
 And an amazing ride it was, to the stranger at least, after 
 the carriage had got behind the row of substantial ware- 
 houses which lined the wharves. " It's like the toy town of a 
 child, all scattered about," Irene said, as they drove through 
 the broad streets of sand white and wet. "Yonder is 
 another house washed into the centre of our way. Oh, look ! 
 yonder is a sloop lying right in front of our church, the 
 mast almost as tall as the steeple ! How can we ever get in 
 on next Sunday?" And so all the way. Mr. Quatty drove 
 them himself, and, from his seat on the box of the open 
 carriage, described the ravages of the tempest with great 
 pride. Wind and sea had invaded the city, washing the 
 streets and gardens into gullies and banks, tearing up the 
 trees, upsetting the smaller houses, floating the larger far
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 39 
 
 away, in many cases, from their foundations; yawls and 
 sailing-boats lay -high and dry upon front yards. It was the 
 very chaos of a wrecked city. Grit, the brother to whom 
 Irene had so often referred, a plump boy of eight or ten, and 
 who had been devoured with kisses by her, pointed out the 
 various disasters as they rode along. Yet over and under 
 and through it all was the sparkling air and the brilliant day. 
 Evidently it was an atmosphere which was as much the 
 native element, in all its brightness, of the people, as the sea 
 is of its fish. As the hacks drove laboriously along, backing 
 and turning, winding in and out, and at times over the 
 scattered ruins of houses and fences, the inhabitants seemed 
 to be out in Sunday attire, as for a holiday. Not merely 
 men and women of the seafaring classes : everywhere, as 
 they drove with many a tortuous winding, there were gentle- 
 men and ladies on foot, or in buggies, and in open convey- 
 ances of all kinds, with children swarming around, all 
 curious to see what the storm had done. The multitude 
 were climbing over the drift, were clustered in groups about 
 some particularly ridiculous upheaval : on the face of all, 
 the same air of hilarity. Mr. Venable, looking up at the 
 sound of a bleating, laughed to see a ram with patriarchal 
 horns summoning assistance from the observatory of a tall 
 house into which it had managed to climb. The next 
 moment Mr. Quatty, from his seat, called their attention to 
 a cow which stood calmly chewing its cud, and gazing upon 
 the passing crowds, its motherly face thrust through the 
 window of a handsome residence in which it had taken 
 refuge. As their carriage turned in and out among the 
 wrecks, there would come, now from down one street or 
 alley, and then up from another, a peal of laughter at some- 
 thing very amusing which had just been observed. 
 
 " No lives have been lost, that I have heard of," Mr. 
 Quatty informed them as they rolled along. " They are all 
 frame houses, you see, and it will not get up into millions
 
 4O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the damage. I know it is not the first storm of the sort we 
 have had here in St. Jerome ; but then, as likely as not, it 
 will never happen again, you know." 
 
 It was thus Mr. Venable easily fell, that bright Sunday, into 
 the mood of Miss Irene Buttolph. And she seemed to 
 express but more volubly what appeared to be the opinion 
 of all; which was, that, upon the whole, the storm and 
 overflow was one of the best practical jokes in the world. 
 
 The most venerable clergyman could not have been more 
 guarded as to his outer bearing than was this new-comer. 
 In comparison with the tropic region into which he had 
 been so suddenly introduced, he was as coldly correct as 
 Iceland ; but, like Iceland, he hid under the snows of his 
 propriety a good deal that was ready to break out. 
 
 " I do truly and sincerely prefer my work to every thing 
 else," he reasoned with himself, after he had been shown to 
 his room at Gen. Buttolph's house : " why is it, then, that, 
 from before my arriving here, I have been thrown with one 
 who threatens to divert my mind from it? If this is the 
 way I am to begin, I had better give up at once, and go 
 back to my old cloisters. Please Heaven, I will try and 
 absorb myself in my new duties so thoroughly as to forget 
 every thing else."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 4! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 
 MR. VENABLE BEGINS TO KNOW THE INHABITANTS OF ST. JEROME, 
 AND THEY TO KNOW HIM. 
 
 DR. BURROWS, the pastor of the church of St. Jerome, 
 had left under peculiar circumstances, to be explained 
 by and by. At the suggestion of Miss Aurelia Jones, the 
 wealthiest as well as the most active, certainly the most 
 devoted, member of the church, the officers thereof had 
 written, a few weeks before our story opens, to the institution 
 at which young men were trained for the ministry. Commo- 
 dore Thomas William Grandheur, long superintendent of 
 the sabbath school, had opposed such a plan from the in- 
 stant of its suggestion by Miss Aurelia. But there was a 
 certain fervor in the lady which gave her an influence be- 
 yond that of the commodore himself. The application was 
 made, that gentleman protesting with all the emphasis of 
 his gold-headed cane, and voice ; and Mr. Venable was the 
 result. Although he had arrived on Sunday, as recorded, it 
 was impossible for him to preach. When he had stepped 
 ashore, it was cautiously, and as if he had expected the island 
 to tilt under him ; and it was many days before he was rid of 
 the roll and lurch and pitch of the Nautilus, which lingered 
 like a physical memory of his trip. The membership also 
 were too busy collecting their scattered fences, and, in some 
 cases, houses, to think of any thing else. Early on Monday 
 morning Gen. Buttolph took his guest to the spot to see the
 
 42 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 vessel hauled away which had been washed up in front of 
 the church. It was an easy thing to do at last ; and the same 
 process was being at the same hour, and for weeks after, 
 applied to boats beached, and houses washed from their 
 foundations, over the whole city. Logs were laid under, and 
 continually renewed in front as they were done with in the 
 rear of the moving mass, the whole island being a dead 
 level. Twelve yoke of oxen it took to move the vessel from 
 the church ; the oxen headed, as they always are in such 
 emergencies, by a mule of unusual size and solemn aspect. 
 The attention of Mr. Venable was arrested by the amount 
 of profanity applied, one driver to each yoke of oxen, and 
 a commander-in-chief in charge of the mule. Beginning 
 with the driver of the yoke next to the vessel, the blasphe- 
 my increased in volume and violence with each teamster in 
 order, until it culminated through the lips of its master, and 
 broke in thunder upon the head of the mule with a vehe- 
 mence of wickedness the hearer had never before imagined. 
 Such suggestions in reference to its eternal hereafter were 
 urged upon the animal, that it would have been rock rather 
 than mule not to have heeded them. With head moving up 
 and down, as it tugged steadily at its load, its long ears were 
 in perpetual motion, as if it said, " Oh, yes ! certainly ; yes, 
 yes, yes : I understand." As Gen. Buttolph's guest meditated 
 on the possible recoil upon the swearers of such verbal vio- 
 lence, the vessel moved off, literally cursed away inch by inch, 
 driven seaward by a gale of at least intenser moral power 
 than that which had lodged it there. And the young man 
 was struck, too, by the joyous indifference on the part of his 
 host to the profanity. It was in keeping with his placid 
 unconcern during the storm at sea. Not unconcern : the 
 same childlike recklessness was observed by the new-comer 
 every moment and in all he met, a recklessness more or 
 less hilarious as to whatever might befall. 
 
 The richer people of St. Jerome seemed to be least in-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 43 
 
 jured by the overflow; their houses being generally upon 
 higher points in the city, and of more substantial materials, 
 than the small frame buildings of the poorer of the popula- 
 tion, buildings all porch and window and green blinds, 
 and the only ceiling and lath and plaster of which was can- 
 vas, canvas well stretched and whitewashed. Things were 
 being rapidly balanced, too, before the storm was well ended, 
 by negroes loaned, and money cheerfully given, on the part 
 of the wealthier citizens. There was a breezy, out-of-door, 
 picnic gladness and generosity and genial fellow-feeling, in it 
 all, which was, to the new arrival, in delightful contrast to the 
 rigors of the region from which he had just departed. As 
 if it had all been a mere mistake of wind and sea, to be 
 borne with and laughed at, fences and houses were being 
 replaced, streets regraded, turf and trees replanted, the 
 whole city set to rights again. St. Jerome was barely above 
 the level of the sea surrounding it on all sides ; and young 
 Venable could not rid himself of the idea that in landing 
 he had but stepped from the Nautilus upon the deck of 
 a vessel vastly larger, but fully as frail and as much exposed 
 to the perils of wind and water, yet all the better for that. 
 Very soon the big ship would be trimmed, the sails set again, 
 and all hands confident of a prosperous voyage henceforth. 
 There was something to him, fresh from scholastic shades, 
 in the sailor-like boyishness of the people, which was more 
 attractive than the transparent air, and sparkling blue of sea 
 and sky, and vivid hues of grass and flowers ; a something 
 in every person he met, in strict sympathy and keeping with 
 nature, which seemed to be so wide open to him all around, 
 above too, and below. 
 
 Commodore Thomas William Grandheur excepted. Mr. 
 Venable speedily acknowledged that. On the Monday after- 
 noon following upon his arrival, the commodore called. 
 Gen. Buttolph's household were seated upon the veranda. 
 From the moment he slowly ascended the steps, the heart
 
 44 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 
 
 of the minister sank within him. The commodore was 
 a large man of commanding presence, who had not been 
 so long in the navy and in supreme command of men 
 for nothing. The instant he stepped as upon the quarter- 
 deck of the general's veranda, the new-comer felt what a 
 green hand he was in such a presence. The commodore 
 had the same feeling evidently. Young Venable saw it in 
 the amplitude of the white vest of this his superior officer, 
 in the exuberance of the gold chain across his breast, in the 
 white hair, heavy moustache, and authoritative brow, espe- 
 cially in the manner of the man, as well as in his gold- 
 headed cane with which, as with the mace of office, he took 
 Mr. Venable in charge. 
 
 There was silence when the commodore, after saluting all 
 present, had taken his seat. Then leaning his hands, one 
 placed on the other, upon the top of his cane, which was 
 between his knees, he proceeded to examine the new recruit. 
 Where had he been born? When? What were his views 
 upon this mode of conducting worship, and that ? How in 
 reference to the sabbath school? also the prayer-meeting? 
 pastoral visitation likewise? Not that there was any thing 
 offensive in the words, nor in the manner, except that the 
 speaker had long been commodore, in his own estimation, 
 of the First Church, and intended remaining so. His 
 assumption aroused within the other a counter assumption. 
 With his eye full in his, the young man replied to the ques- 
 tions respectfully, as to one so much older, but in an inde- 
 pendent as well as off-hand way, which, he smiled to himself 
 to think, he had caught already, as by infection, from the 
 people about him. 
 
 " Our church, sir," the commodore said at last, " is the 
 First Church of St. Jerome, in every sense the First 
 Church." 
 
 He was a noble-looking old soul ; his bronze complexion 
 well contrasted with moustache and hair and overhanging
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. - 45 
 
 eyebrows, which were very white. There was authority in 
 the " ahem " with which he began every new remark. Yet 
 the young man had an intuition from the first that his visitor 
 lacked substance to his size. He was ashamed to feel that 
 the commodore reminded him of a big bass-drum, he 
 could not get rid of an idea of hollowness. In spite of 
 himself, the idea grew, the longer his visitor talked. 
 
 At last there was the dull roll of wheels in the sandy 
 street. In the instant of the utterance of an exclamation 
 by Irene, the visitor arose. His face was from the street ; 
 but it was evident he had an instinct as to who was coming, 
 and wished to avoid a meeting. There was almost a sacri- 
 fice of dignity in the abruptness of his leave-taking, as, after 
 bidding all adieu, and lifting his hat to a lady ascending the 
 steps, he took his departure. 
 
 Mr. Venable bowed to her as he did so, regarding her 
 with keen interest. She was plainly dressed, had very black 
 hair and eyes, a fresh-colored and eager face, and a man- 
 ner as full of emotion as that of the visitor before her had 
 been cold and magisterial. She greeted the young man with 
 an effusion which brought the color to his cheeks. 
 
 " I am so glad you are come, Mr. Venable ! " she said at 
 last, in continuance of a good deal of welcome going before, 
 " and out of a terrible tempest too. And we, too, are just 
 out of a storm, : a storm following, as far as the First 
 Church is concerned, upon a calm which was worse still. 
 How plainly Providence was preparing us for each other ! 
 Do you know, Mr. Venable, it was I who insisted upon your 
 being sent for ? Miss Aurelia Jones, I dare say they have 
 told you about me. Not that I can do any thing. I am 
 only a woman, a very weak and cold-hearted woman, I 
 fear. But I do desire to do all I can." And she was so 
 childlike and overflowing, that Mr. Venable was charmed ; 
 the more so, the longer she talked. She had little to say to 
 Gen. Buttolph, or even to his daughters just returned after 
 years of absence, in her eagerness about the church.
 
 46 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " I know," she finally added after quite a long visit, " that 
 it is often worse than nothing ; yet we do have the youth, 
 the wealth, the fashion and culture and intellect, of St. Je- 
 rome, in our society. Yours is a serious charge, Mr. Vena- 
 ble ; but you will have," she continued, with her heart 
 in her eyes, " earnest, praying, confidential, devoted friends. 
 I will not make a long call now," she added : " we will 
 see a good deal of each other, I assure you. And you 
 are as grave as ever, Zeo," she said, turning to the sis- 
 ters. "You, I am afraid, Irene, are as full of your mis- 
 chief. How you are both grown ! You must take classes in 
 the Sunday school. The commodore is a good, good man. 
 But oh, me ! me! " with a laugh and a shrug of her shoul- 
 ders. " Good-by ; " and she shook hands cordially with all 
 as she departed. " I have a thousand things to talk over 
 with you," she said to Mr. Venable after he had helped her 
 into her carriage at the gate. " We must establish a mission- 
 school out near Mr. Parson's place. He will be glad to 
 manage it as he does his terraqueous machine. Have you 
 seen it yet? He has dozens of inventions, and he is the 
 most wonderful of them all himself. Then we should have 
 the market-house for a Bethel. I have already worked a 
 magnificent flag of silk, a white cross on a blue ground. 
 Capt. Chaffin would help in that. Have you seen Mrs. 
 Chafnngsby yet ? Be on your guard, Mr. Venable : it is 
 sometimes wicked to laugh. Oh, if it please Heaven ! " she 
 said with fervor, holding his hand, and her eyes moistening, 
 "we may have a blessing on our church. It was such a 
 pity about Dr. Burrows, such a pity .' " And it was after a 
 deal of further conversation on her part, that the lady was 
 driven off. 
 
 Mr. Venable could not help, on his return to the veranda 
 on which the family were seated, remarking on the impres- 
 sion Miss Aurelia Jones had made upon him. He refrained, 
 however, from acknowledging even to himself a vague un-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 47 
 
 easiness in regard to her. There was a fervor which was 
 fever ; a something of strain too great to be either natural 
 or lasting. 
 
 " She is the life and soul of our church," Gen. Buttolph 
 said. " You see what a handsome lady she is. They say 
 she is forty; but she has such a fresh color, and is so 
 warm-hearted, that she does not seem to be thirty. She is 
 rich, and is exceedingly active in church matters. I wish 
 she and Commodore Grandheur agreed better. He is our 
 superintendent, but she is vastly better fitted for it. Her in- 
 fant class is well worth seeing." 
 
 " She is so far beyond me," Irene Buttolph had impa- 
 tiently waited till now to say, " that I am as still as a mouse 
 when I am with her: I am as cold then and wicked as 
 a lump of ice ; she is so ardent and loving and good. Zeo 
 thinks the world of her." 
 
 " It is two years since we saw her last," her sister said, 
 after a little while. She looked up from her embroidery as 
 she said it, for she always had some work in hand ; Irene 
 being too eager with eyes and tongue, indulging in too much 
 movement of her hands in company, to lend herself steadily 
 to any thing else. ""Miss Aurelia was very kind indeed when 
 our mother was ill," Zeo added. " She used to write us long 
 and beautiful letters when we were off at school. I wish," 
 the young lady began to say, "that we could all be as 
 good as she is ; that is " 
 
 " We will be," her sister added for her, "when we get to be 
 angels. But I am not pious now, one bit. I love fun and 
 flowers, and like to laugh, and to ride, and to talk, too much 
 for that. Wait, sir, until Miss Aurelia begins to send you 
 slippers and things. Wait ! Tell us what you think of 
 Commodore Grandheur, Mr. Venable." 
 
 " He seems to be a very stately, I dare say a most excel- 
 lent gentleman," Mr. Venable replied with some difficulty, 
 hesitating a little.
 
 48 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " As if you could deceive us ! " the more voluble of the 
 young ladies said. " I won't hush, Zeo. He is exactly as 
 he was when we left. He has been superintendent of our 
 Sunday school for years. Ever since we can remember, he 
 wore that white waistcoat, and carried his gold-headed cane 
 and pompous manner, as if he were monarch of all crea- 
 tion." But here she yielded to the eyes, and hand on her 
 arm, of her sister. " Dear me ! bless my soul ! I 'm always 
 doing something bad; but I only say what other people 
 hide," she added. "The commodore is " But, under the 
 authoritative eyes of her sister, she stopped. 
 
 The young minister reddened as he caught the malicious 
 eyes of Irene fastened upon him : he had taken such a dis- 
 like to the individual, resenting the solemn superiority of 
 manner and air with which the commodore had taken charge 
 of him with his portentous cane. In virtue of an old and 
 bad habit of his, formed in college and seminary days, the 
 young man sank into deep thought, while Irene talked on 
 upon a hundred topics, her sister and father as silent beside 
 them as usual. 
 
 " Excuse me, Miss Irene," Mr. Venable said at last, and 
 recalling himself to the matter of which she was speaking : 
 "you need not defend yourself as being too full of life. 
 How could you help it, born and growing up in such an 
 atmosphere? So far as I can see, everybody seems " 
 
 "As if he or she had been taking a little too much 
 brandy," his companion interrupted, as she always did ; 
 " everybody except Zeo. She is an owl. It is because Grit 
 and I give her so much trouble. But no two people in St. 
 Jerome are the least bit alike. Everybody is a peculiar 
 person, but each in his own way. We are thrown together 
 here, you know, from every State in the Union, as well as 
 from all over the world. I haven't forgotten a soul of them ; 
 they are people you can't forget, to save your life. There's 
 Father Fethero, he plainly perceives a gloom ; never mind,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 49 
 
 Mr. Venable, you'll understand what I mean by that as soon 
 as you know him. Then, there is Farce Fanthorp, and Phip 
 Quatty ; but you have met him. Wait until you have heard 
 him ! Then there is I liked to have forgotten him : we 
 always forget him Mr. Nogens; and, yes, there is let 
 me see " 
 
 "You have forgotten Ezra Micajah Parsons," Gen. But- 
 tolph said, folding and unfolding his hands as he sat in his 
 easy-chair. 
 
 "So I have," his daughter exclaimed. "And there is 
 Col. Roland, editor, poet, and lover ; the youngest man you 
 ever knew, Mr. Venable, and the oldest." 
 
 " And Clara Chaffingsby, and Charles," Zeo said softly in 
 the moment of silence which followed. There was a hush 
 upon all as she said it, as if she had mentioned the dead. 
 
 " For shame, Zeo ! " her sister broke in again, adding, 
 
 " And there is Mrs. Chaffingsby. O Mr. Venable ! The 
 richest treat is before you in Mrs. Chaffingsby. You have 
 no idea ! " and the eyes of the young lady were so full of 
 fun as she spoke with uplifted hands, that, not caring par- 
 ticularly as yet about Mrs. Chaffingsby, the young divinity- 
 student carried a pleasing impression of the lively girl with 
 him to his room when he withdrew ; but his last thoughts as 
 he fell asleep, and his first upon awakening, were not of her. 
 She might compel his attention while he was with them, but 
 his expectation, so to speak, even then was fastened rather 
 upon her quiet sister than herself; and, as soon as he got 
 away, he reverted wholly to Miss Zeo. He was beginning to 
 thrive wonderfully in health and spirits ; and somehow his 
 health had lodged itself in and was growing most vigorous 
 in the region of his heart. But why should it turn, like the 
 witch-hazel in his hands, toward treasure out of sight? For 
 he could not understand her.
 
 5O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. VENABLE BEGINS TO SEE THAT ST. JEROME IS 
 AS TROPICAL IN ITS PEOPLE AS IN ITS CLIMATE. 
 
 FOR the present Mr. Venable had yielded to the cordial 
 wish of Gen. Buttolph, and made himself at home in 
 his ample mansion. The building was two-storied, with a 
 broad veranda, two-storied also, upon every side, and sup- 
 plied with Venetian blinds. Around the house, which was in 
 the suburbs of the city, were a dozen acres. Besides the 
 luxuriant kitchen-gardens behind the house, and the flower- 
 gardens on either side, there were orchards of fig, orange, 
 and lemon trees. These had to be helped with axe and 
 grubbing-hoe against the oleander, china, and ailanthus 
 trees, which, environing the place outside, crowded into the 
 front yard, and struggled like an army with banners, for the 
 possession, too, of garden and orchard. In one corner, 
 sheltered from the terrible northers, a few olive-trees and 
 almonds, guava-plants and bananas, clustered together like 
 foreigners not quite at home. 
 
 " How did your trees manage to stand the storm?" the 
 guest asked of a thick-set, vigorous, and very black negro, 
 whom he found working in the grounds a few days after his 
 coming. 
 
 " You hold your tongue, boy," replied a tall, thin, old 
 white-headed negro, hidden by the foliage, winter as it was, 
 off to one side. " You shet up, an' lemme talk," the old
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 5 1 
 
 man said, coming up and laying a long but feeble arm upon 
 the shoulder of the other ; Mr. Venable recognizing them as 
 the two servants of Gen. Buttolph who had greeted their 
 landing. It was a wonder that he could stand up, much 
 less walk abroad, he was such a skeleton, such a mummy of 
 a man. 
 
 "He don't know nuffin," the speaker explained. "We 
 stood de storm," he added, " bekase we're on de highest 
 point ob de whole island ; " and the old soul waved his hand 
 toward the expanse of land and sea around as if their twenty 
 feet of elevation was that of the Alps instead. 
 
 " But why don't you let this man speak?" asked Mr. Ven- 
 able, turning to look again at the other negro, who, besides 
 being as stout as he was black, had a large head, no senator 
 possessing more dignity as by the majesty of his very silence. 
 
 " Him ! dis child ! " the old man ejaculated, looking at 
 the other as if at a weed. " Him ! why, massa, he my 
 grandchild, an' born here in St. Jerome. I'm from ole Fir- 
 ginny, Prince Edward Curtus " (meaning "court-house"). 
 " He don't know much, but he do know not to talk when I'm 
 around." The aged aristocrat drew himself up with dignity, 
 as he said it ; and the visitor recognized the source from 
 which the grandson had derived his majestic proportions. 
 
 But at this juncture the dinner-bell rang, and Venable 
 had to leave them, by no means unwillingly. After the 
 scanty herbage and close-cut hedges of the institution from 
 which he came, Gen. Buttolph's place seemed as glorious as 
 Eden. The fact that he had left the North in mid-winter, to 
 find what was comparatively summer again, made his new 
 home almost marvellous. Direct, also, from the Spartan fare 
 of his seminary, the table of his host seemed to him laden 
 with Oriental abundance. Such bread, for whiteness and 
 lightness, he had rarely seen. The beef was the tenderest, 
 the poultry the juiciest, the vegetables the largest and most 
 enjoyable, in all his knowledge. Not a sweet potato but
 
 52 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 exceeded in sweetness his ideal of pudding, or would have 
 done so if it had not been surpassed by a peculiar sort of 
 corn-bread at breakfast, of which it was impossible to eat 
 enough. The young man blushed at his keenness of appe- 
 tite. The coffee alone, yellowed with richest cream, was a 
 coffee before unheard of. 
 
 Every morning there would be a knock upon his door a 
 good hour before the breakfast-bell rang ; and, Mr. Venable 
 awakened enough to say, " Come in," the younger Plenty 
 would enter, and silently place a cup of this coffee on its 
 silver waiter, with sugar and cream-jug, upon the little table 
 at the head of his bed, and as silently withdraw. The heat 
 and fragrance was as if a richer morning than that without 
 had dawned within his room, and one could arise and dress 
 so much more deliberately after draining the cup. Grit, the 
 fat son of his host, sat next him at table, eating with a long 
 and slow enjoyment of his food, which alarmed the visitor 
 for the intellectual development of that youth. And a silent 
 and yellow-complexioned boy of ten or so, Grit was ; more 
 like an extremely plump Cupid devoid of wings and weapons, 
 and carved out of butter, than any thing else. He seemed 
 to be so wholly flesh and blood, so unlike the studious 
 children, pale and crammed with learning, and always on 
 edge, of his previous experience, that the guest of the 
 house took a liking to the boy as a charming variety of the 
 species. 
 
 " I like to see him and talk to him," he said to Irene : " he 
 is so fresh and childlike, and free from care. He does not 
 say much as yet, but he seems to me as innocent as a babe." 
 
 Upon which, to his surprise, she exclaimed, " O Mr. Ven- 
 able ! I had no idea you could be so sarcastic. Is it possi- 
 ble you have not found Grit out yet?" with a look of 
 genuine astonishment. 
 
 That very evening her sister drew Gen. Buttolph aside, 
 as the supper-bell rang, to tell him something in a low voice,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 53 
 
 evidently about her brother. But Grit was at table after- 
 ward, partaking largely of preserved figs and cream, a cherub 
 in serenity and sweetness, turning upon his father the gaze 
 of innocence as the general held up his hand, upon his 
 leaving table, saying to the boy in ominous accents, " Re- 
 member ! " 
 
 It was to relieve any embarrassment following on this, 
 that their guest said, a few moments after, of his eating, " I 
 suppose it is travel, change of scene and air, but really I am 
 ashamed of myself." 
 
 " Not at all," his host replied. " Old aunt Plenty is the 
 best cook in St. Jerome. I bought her in Old Virginia for 
 that. Young Plenty Okra is his real name and old Plenty 
 were thrown in : into one trade, I mean. I like to see our 
 guests enjoy themselves. Enjoyment is, in my opinion," the 
 general added, his broad face as genial as the rising sun, 
 " a solemn duty." 
 
 " I am doing my duty, then," the young man said to 
 himself that night, as he undressed for bed. " It is such 
 a sudden change in my life ! Was there ever such a luxu- 
 rious home ? And what delightful people ! Then, I am 
 twenty-one. There is the responsibility of this important 
 church too. It is like Paradise. I wonder who or what is 
 the serpent. It cannot be Commodore Thomas William 
 Grandheur. Strange that an old gentleman of such fine 
 presence and all should seem so empty. And how remark- 
 able that he never dreams of it himself ! Yet he is. And, 
 pray, who and what are you ? " he turned sharply and rebuk- 
 ingly upon himself with the demand. 
 
 He would have been more puzzled to answer this demand 
 after the sabbath which followed his first in St. Jerome. 
 The church was a large one. In virtue of being of a high 
 pitch also, from floor to ceiling, and being, by reason of the 
 climate, almost all windows and green blinds, there was a 
 broad and airy effect within the edifice, wonderfully like that
 
 54 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 out of doors. Every seat below, as well as in the gallery 
 above, at the end, and on either side, was filled. Morning 
 and night the young man preached. The sermons had been 
 prepared long before, with cruel care. He had been aston- 
 ished at being able to prepare such remarkable sermons; 
 and, being in his own estimation his very best, they were his 
 very worst. Agonizing doubts, however, darkened his soul 
 when he went home after the benediction at night. As to the 
 market value of his efforts, no Hindoo at that moment in 
 India could have been more profoundly ignorant : more 
 than a million or less than a mill, he would have instantly 
 adopted the opinion of the least hearer there, could he have 
 known it, eagerly adopted it as the only opinion a sane 
 person could hold. If, however, you think, dear reader, that 
 this man is to be the hero of this narrative, you are greatly 
 mistaken. This is neither a religious biography nor a theo- 
 logical treatise : it is a true story of an actual world. 
 
 Upon his return with the family from church on Sunday 
 night, the young people ascended, at the suggestion of Miss 
 Irene, to the observatory, not a house in St. Jerome with- 
 out its little turret and flag-staff, and gazed from their ele- 
 vation upon the scene open on every side. Around them lay 
 the city, buried in masses of foliage, the white houses stand- 
 ing out in strong contrast under a moonlight brilliant enough 
 to read by. There were calm and silence to where sky and 
 sea met in every direction around, and a light which was 
 to that of the day as romance is to fact. The young 
 ladies were more richly dressed than he had been used to 
 see ; and both seemed at once older and more beautiful in 
 consequence, but in very different ways. 
 
 " The sky has never seemed so boundless above me," the 
 young man said at last ; " nor my life as boundless before 
 me," he added slowly, regretting the words as soon as 
 spoken. 
 
 "I do not wonder," the elder of the ladies replied.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 55 
 
 Something in her tones smote him with apprehension ; the 
 fact being, that he was hesitating between two certainties. 
 "To-morrow," he had stated them to himself, "the offi- 
 cers of the First Church will come in a body to tell me, 
 with enthusiasm, that I am the most eloquent orator, the 
 most desirable pastor, St. Jerome has ever imagined. Or, 
 and more likely, I will have a call from Commodore Grand- 
 heur, deputed for the purpose, to tell me that I am a dead 
 failure, and that, if I will take the Nautilus back on its next 
 trip, they will be greatly obliged. And, now, what did Miss 
 Irene mean?" he thought. 
 
 "Who was that dark and silent gentleman," he asked, 
 staving off a decision of the matter which would be to him 
 paradise, but much more probably perdition, " who intro- 
 duced himself after morning service? " 
 
 "The one in the snuff-colored suit? Oh, that!" Miss 
 Irene said, " was Mr. Nogens. He is an officer of the 
 church because he is so good ; that is, he never did any 
 thing in his life, nor ever said any thing. Ever since I can 
 remember, he was the same. He comes to every meeting, 
 you know, and sits there. Nobody has ever found any 
 thing to say about, much less against, him. He is such a 
 good man ! The instant you don't see him, you forget all 
 about him. He is Mr. Nogens, and that is all ; except 
 that he wears a wig, and he thinks nobody knows it. Hush, 
 Zeo ! You see, he has a little curl of it pasted down on his 
 forehead, and he can tell by feeling that whether it is on 
 right. That makes Mr. Nogens so quiet : he is afraid of 
 deranging his wig. He always feels for that little curl when 
 anybody is saying any thing earnest to him. He keeps his 
 finger upon it all the time when Miss Aurelia Jones is talk- 
 ing. Never mind about him, Mr. Venable ;. nobody ever 
 does mind. But I wanted to tell you how exceedingly " 
 
 " Pardon me," her companion interrupted with some haste. 
 " I wanted to ask about a gentleman I met on Saturday. I
 
 56 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 was standing on the street, when he came along very rapidly. 
 He is quite a tall man, very shabbily dressed, with a singu- 
 larly narrow but high forehead. He had (I beg his pardon) 
 an unusually long nose. I never saw a person drive along 
 at such a swift pace, his head bent forward, his eyes on the 
 ground. He caught sight of me in passing, but was under 
 such headway, that he was a rod beyond me before he could 
 turn and come back. Then he was in an extreme hurry. 
 I could not keep up with him in what he said, at all. He 
 shook me by the hand very cordially indeed, welcomed me 
 to St. Jerome, asked me how I liked it, where I was staying, 
 how old I was, where I was born, at what college I was edu- 
 cated, a dozen questions without giving me time to answer 
 one. Who is he ? for he forgot to tell me his name." 
 
 " It couldn't be Mr. Phip Quatty," Irene Buttolph replied. 
 " Did he say any thing about his having been an oysterman ? 
 We have been absent two years, you know." 
 
 " It was not Mr. Quatty : I know him," the young man 
 said, " for we met him on our landing. Besides, Mr. Quatty 
 told me at church to-day that he would certainly be at our 
 Wednesday-night prayer-meeting." 
 
 " He did ! I do wish," Irene said with energy, " that his 
 horses would run away with him, and never stop until they 
 got to China. And there is not a better man alive. Oh, 
 bother ! " she added violently. 
 
 " Irene," her sister said, laughing in spite of herself, and 
 merrily, but laying her hand, in the moonlight, on her arm. 
 " For shame, sister ! " 
 
 "The gentleman on the street," Mr. Venable continued, 
 " said he was glad to see me, because he had got an idea. 
 He was full of enthusiasm about it. He said that it was a 
 glorious idea ; that he had hit upon a good many things, but 
 that this was the best idea he had ever had : speaking as 
 rapidly as he had walked. While speaking, he held up the 
 palm of his left hand, and began, with the forefinger of his
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 57 
 
 right hand, to draw his plan on it like a diagram. ' I thank 
 God,' he said, ' that I ever thought of it. It is wo'nderful it 
 was never thought of before.' But just then," continued 
 Mr. Venable, " Capt. Chaffin came up, and shook hands with 
 both of us, and asked me when I was coming to see her, 
 I understood him to say, Mrs. Chaffingsby. The instant 
 he spoke, the other said, ' Bah ! Pshaw ! Stuff and non- 
 sense ! Fiddlesticks ! ' and was off like a shot." 
 
 " I think I know who he is," Zeo made sober reply, her 
 sister being unusually silent. " We knew him before we 
 went to school, Irene. It must be Mr. Parsons, Mr. Ezra 
 Micajah Parsons." 
 
 " Of course ! " Irene replied. " Did he say any thing else, 
 Mr. Venable? " The young girl asked the question, looking 
 archly at their companion, who colored. 
 
 The fact was, Mr. Parsons, having learned, in the course 
 of his rapid questioning, that the new minister was staying 
 for the present at Gen. Buttolph's, had said promptly, 
 " Miserable business 1 This is all wrong ! That will never 
 do ! There are two decided reasons against it ; " with such 
 emphasis on the word "two " that the guest shrank from tell- 
 ing the sisters of it. Yet they seemed to know. 
 
 " Why is it," Mr. Venable asked, to turn the conversation, 
 " that every thing here in St. Jerome is so positive ? The 
 sky is so blue, the foliage so green, this moonlight is so un- 
 usually brilliant ! This pomegranate, for instance," holding 
 up one which he had brought down from the fruit-basket in 
 his room : " its seeds are of such a vivid crimson ; the skin 
 is as bitter, too, as each seed is pungent. It is the same of 
 the people. Almost every person I have met has a marked 
 individuality. Even your Mr. Nogens is and does and says 
 nothing, as you say, in a positive way." 
 
 "That is St. Jerome," Miss Irene said; "and O Mr. 
 Venable ! I am so glad you have come ! I have been want- 
 ing to tell you ho'w much we liked your sermons." And
 
 58 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 she did tell him, at some length too. Although he made an 
 attempt to deprecate, and arrest the enthusiastic young lady, 
 she would have her say. Nor was it immodestly done ; she 
 seemed sincerely pleased. " You know what an outspoken 
 person I am," she added. "If I don't like any thing, I 
 speak just as freely." 
 
 He thanked her, not without pain, too, mingled with the 
 pleasure, he knew not why. 
 
 " Irene," her sister interposed at last, " it is near midnight. 
 Mr. Venable must be tired." She had leaned, all the time, 
 like a mere listener, upon the side of the observatory win- 
 dow farthest from the young man. Somehow the authority 
 of her words lay in their sweetness ; but their companion 
 wished, as he undressed for bed, that she had said at least 
 something. 
 
 Mr. Venable had been already called upon by the leading 
 men of his church ; and the next day he set out upon his 
 visits in return. At first Commodore Grandheur went with 
 him ; and the new minister was made to feel as if he were not 
 merely a very young man, but as if he were an inexperienced 
 young lady rather, needing assistance at every step. It was 
 as if his stately companion had said at each house, " You 
 see I have brought this youth. Be as forbearing with him as 
 possible." And then the old hero would plant his cane 
 more firmly between his knees, smooth his white moustache, 
 and patiently allow the other to vindicate himself as well as 
 he could for daring to undertake so important a charge. 
 After a few experiences of this kind, Mr. Venable insisted, 
 although with all deference, upon going alone. Occasion- 
 ally, which was about the same thing, he took Mr. Nogens 
 with him. As Mr. Nogens never ventured beyond rubbing 
 his hands together, and saying "yes" in emergencies, the 
 new minister had uninterrupted opportunity of becoming 
 acquainted with his people. 
 
 It was a large church, and the membership was as varied as
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 59 
 
 it was numerous. There were heavy wholesale merchants, as 
 well as retail dealers, in dry goods and hardware ; doctors, 
 fishermen, retired sea-captains, mechanics, milliners, pro- 
 vision-dealers, clerks, superintendents or workmen in the 
 warehouses in which cotton-bales were compressed for ship- 
 ping. Quite a number were families who had left their plan- 
 tations to the care of overseers in the interior, and lived upon 
 the island for the education of their children, and the marry- 
 ing of their daughters. There were numbers of young men, 
 also, whose connection with the church was hereditary, but 
 whose personal interest lay in quite other directions. Be- 
 hind St. Jerome was the magnificent State, an empire in 
 itself. The city was like the hand which the State had 
 reached out, open and cordial, to greet the coming world ; 
 and the more the new arrival experienced of, so to speak, 
 the pulse and pressure thereof, the more delighted he was 
 that it had become his home. You can almost always 
 awaken love in men as well as women by yourself falling 
 in love with them ; and, just coming up as Mr. Venable was 
 from the charnel-house of books, he was so much pleased 
 with such a people, so un-bookish and in harmony with their 
 beautiful climate and with Nature were they, that it was im- 
 possible but they also should be pleased with him.
 
 6O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE, MR. VENABLE 
 SEES ONE OF HIS IDEALS ALIVE AND BREATHING. 
 
 ALMOST from the hour of his landing, Mr. Venable 
 had been both amazed and amused at the effect pro- 
 duced in him by having landed upon an island ; especially 
 as he found that the twenty thousand people of St. Jerome 
 felt about it as he did. With him and with them there was 
 a feeling, in virtue of being surrounded by the sea, as if one 
 were done forever with the rest of the world. 
 
 " I am completely quit of the past," was his continual 
 thought. " I am to live here till I die, and I am glad of it." 
 Like everybody else, he felt as if he had a personal ac- 
 quaintance with all he met. Being housed together by the 
 surf sounding all around them, they were at last but one 
 family. The climate being so delicious, they were there to- 
 gether upon the sand and among the oleanders and orange- 
 trees for a picnic, with splendid weather for it, under the 
 cloudless sky, or the almost as brilliant light of moon and 
 stars. It was not merely the fellow feeling of sailors on ship 
 and out of sight of land, but rather as of passengers on a 
 day's frolic together upon a coral island in mid-sea. In such 
 circumstances Commodore Thomas William Grandheur was 
 to be taken as a matter of course. His idea was plainly this : 
 " No crew afloat need a commander more than do the people 
 of this island, and no man is so admirably qualified for that
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 6l 
 
 office as myself." He was not superintendent of the Sunday 
 school of the First Church for nothing. The children were to 
 be held firmly ; but that was merely good practice, enabling 
 him to keep steady hold upon the rest. Mr. Venable had been 
 called to be pastor, against his wishes. That the people had 
 defied his awful authority, was proof that he must stand firm 
 and save them from themselves. The old man was so stately, 
 so thoroughly satisfied with himself, so sincerely good at 
 heart, that it seemed to Mr. Venable a sin, the unanimity with 
 which everybody, from the least child up, laughed at their 
 solemn custodian, glancing at each other in the midst of his 
 most impressive assumptions, with lips pursed up and irrev- 
 erent winks, as if it were the best joke going. If the com- 
 modore had not been near-sighted, a little hard of hearing, 
 and so convinced of his own supremacy, he must have seen 
 it. So it had been for many years. For weeks after Mr. 
 Venable 's arrival, Commodore Grandheur waited. Amid 
 the general enthusiasm of the people for their new pastor, all 
 he wanted to know was the final decision of Miss Aurelia 
 Jones. But that lady grew the more fervid in her admiration 
 with every passing sabbath. She was speaking about it in 
 her infant-class room to a group of teachers one afternoon 
 when Sunday school was over. 
 
 "No," she said, " you are all wrong. You like Mr. Vena- 
 ble because he is young ; because he gets pale in the pulpit 
 as he grows more in earnest. All wrong. I do not care for 
 his beautiful periods, gestures, illustrations, pathetic prayers 
 and appeals. All I care for in the world is fervor. Give 
 me pure, humble ardor, yes, fervor, and I would be satisfied 
 if he had nothing else." And the lady was so glowing, was 
 so rich and useful too, that her words gave a sanction to the 
 new minister. The fact must be added, that Miss Aurelia 
 had, even thus early in their acquaintance, sent Mr. Venable 
 a beautifully- worked bookmark or two. Miss Irene had 
 been the one who had made a point to hand him the enclos-
 
 62 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 ure when it came, adding the mystical words, " Wait, Mr, 
 Venable, you only wait," with a somewhat malicious smile 
 on her lips. 
 
 Commodore Grandheur heard all the praise of the new 
 pastor, heard it often and warmly expressed by Miss Au- 
 relia Jones. It decided him. The lady and himself had 
 never agreed. They had come into collision upon a hun- 
 dred points connected with church and Sunday school, and 
 it was always the same. The colder the one was, that much 
 the warmer the other. The ardor of the lady was turning 
 the commodore from an iceberg into a rock. " I never say 
 any thing," he said one day to good Mr. Nogens. " It is 
 not wise to do so. It is beneath my dignity. But I never 
 had but one opinion. This young man is more sophomori- 
 cal than I had feared. He seems to be modest and sin- 
 cere ; but there is no fibre in him. What he may grow to 
 be, I cannot tell ; but his sermons are all froth and flowers. 
 The enthusiasm will soon subside. I can wait. I have a 
 good edition of Blair at home. You have read Blair's 
 sermons, Mr. Nogens?" 
 
 No, Mr. Nogens had not. Mr. Nogens had nothing to 
 say about it, one way or the other. Mrs. Nogens was deaf 
 as a post, and her husband had exhausted himself for life 
 in trying to make her hear. But no man, even the vilest 
 scoffer, could find any thing against Mr. Nogens. He never 
 did any thing wrong, never said a syllable out of the way. 
 The commodore could unburden his opposition to him. 
 Mr. Nogens was as safe as a man can be in such a case. 
 He was like sawdust to stamping feet, like sand to running 
 water : no fear of any thing doing any harm or making any 
 noise through him. He was very sallow-faced, had no 
 beard, and wore, as has been said, a wig. He sat and lis- 
 tened, but that was all. With his head a little on one side 
 while you spoke, no friend could give you more attention, 
 slowly closing his eyes and compressing his lips as you
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 63 
 
 became more and more excited in your statement, relaxing 
 and slowly opening them again when your burst of feel- 
 ing was over ; and nothing beyond that, except to feel with 
 the forefinger of his slow left hand, upon his temple, if the 
 little curl plastered thereupon was all right, and then remark, 
 " Yes," but in a way which was but the continuance of his 
 interrupted calm. It relieved you to know that you had 
 said your say to so good a man ; that he must know that 
 you were in the right, even if he never said so. 
 
 Not an hour after parting with the commodore on the 
 occasion of the remarks just quoted, Mr. Nogens entertained 
 his pastor, who had just called. Mrs. Nogens came in to do 
 honor to their visitor, with her old-fashioned face, and such 
 a cheerful readiness to hear and assent to any thing, if any- 
 body could only succeed (which was impossible) in making 
 her hear it ! 
 
 " I am very well, I thank you," their caller said, full of 
 enthusiasm, anxious to please where he was himself de- 
 lighted. " What a glorious climate it is ! Nothing can be 
 more beautiful than sea and sky and this town. The streets 
 are so broad and white, and full of trees ! I have been mak- 
 ing visits. I was in at his office to see Col. Roland just 
 now. They tell me he was secretary of state to the gover- 
 nor. Why do you call your governor ' Old Ugly,' Mr. No- 
 gens ? The colonel has been an editor and writer of poems, 
 I am told, for many years ; yet he looks so young, a very 
 pleasant gentleman indeed. And I dropped in at Squire 
 Clarke's provision-store. I was delighted when I heard that 
 he had broken his whiskey-bottles and poured out his brandy 
 after joining our church the other day. Ought we not to 
 buy our groceries there, Mr. Nogens?" 
 
 Mr. Nogens listened attentively ; his face yellow, worn, and 
 settled, in contrast with that of the other, which was bright 
 with hope and eagerness. Mr. Venable paused at last, from 
 very shame at having taken up so much of the conversation,
 
 64 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 paused for a considerable time. He was just beginning 
 again, when Mr. Nogens, after weighing well all that had 
 been advanced, replied very deliberately, "Yes." 
 
 " I have just been to see Capt. Chaffin also," the visitor 
 began again, " or Mrs. Chaffingsby : I do not know which 
 it is. What a nice large place they have near the sea ! I 
 never saw a more beautiful yard ; so full of sea-shells in 
 heaps and lining the walks. I did not know there was such 
 a variety in sizes, shapes, and colors, before. I rang, but the 
 lady was out. A young girl, I mean a child, came to the 
 door. I wanted to ask," Mr. Venable hesitated and stam- 
 mered, " I mean, I wanted to inquire of you " But the 
 visitor colored as Mr. Nogens settled himself into a deeper 
 attention, beginning to close his eyes and compress his lips 
 as if for a confidence upon the part of the speaker. The 
 silence of Mr. Nogens was so ominous, however, that, as 
 soon as Mr. Venable could recover himself, he changed the 
 conversation to church matters. In leaving, he tried to 
 make Mrs. Nogens understand, by his smiling and the 
 pressure of his hand, what he could not by his voice. She 
 was very willing to hear, if one would but speak loud 
 enough. Little less than a cannon, however, would have 
 been sufficient. And yet Mrs. Nogens was far from being 
 unhappy in her enforced seclusion from the world. There 
 was a calmness in her face, which recalled to the mind the 
 fact that " beyond these voices there is peace ; " and it 
 seemed a coming-down on her part, as from serene summits, 
 when she endeavored to hear what was said to her. 
 
 It was no wonder that Mr. Venable was perplexed as he 
 walked away from Mr. Nogens, in the direction of Mr. Ezra 
 Micajah Parsons's place, out in the suburbs. Ever since his 
 coming, people had said, " Do you know Mrs. Chaffingsby? " 
 " What ! have you not seen her yet ? You ought by all 
 means to see her," and the like. There was something so 
 peculiar in the way in which people mentioned her, that he
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 65 
 
 was desirous, and yet almost afraid, to find her in. During 
 his rapid rounds of visitations, as the weeks passed, he had 
 called more than once, to find the front gate locked, and 
 the house, a large two-storied mansion, apparently deserted. 
 To-day, just before visiting Mr. Nogens, he had called again 
 upon Mrs. ChafHngsby ; and the door of the house had been 
 opened by the person concerning whom he had tried, as we 
 have seen, to question that gentleman. It was a girl who 
 might have been eighteen years old, but was probably not 
 more than fourteen. The visitor had met many surprises in 
 his strange new world, but none so great as this. The 
 blessing and the curse upon him was his keen sensitiveness. 
 It was his nature, and it had been unduly cultivated during 
 years of seclusion from the world, and hard study. But he 
 was almost as deaf to music as Mrs. Nogens, in comparison 
 to his passion for color and form. He had felt, ever since 
 arriving, as if he had walked into the glowing painting of 
 some great master. It was because he was of so tropical a 
 nature himself; because he had been repressed so long; 
 because, in the sudden enjoyment of the best health he had 
 ever known, he had reached the tropical period of his man- 
 hood, and had entered upon it with new zest of body, of 
 mind, and of soul. But who had supposed that such a 
 person ever lived, except on canvas, as this girl who stood 
 in the hah" light, half shadow, of the partially-opened door 
 at Capt. Chaffin's that day? There was a subtle con- 
 trast between the exquisite white and red of her complexion, 
 and the soft brown of her abundant hair, which he had 
 never before seen ; the purity of the perfect face was illu- 
 mined by eyes, large, blue, deep in their childlike innocence. 
 Sculpture had not revealed to him curve and form like this, 
 nor had painting hinted of such blending hues. The girl 
 stood looking at him, her lips parted like a rosebud begin- 
 ning to bloom, her eyes suddenly yet steadily in his. The 
 words in which she told him that no one was at home were
 
 66 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 nothing in themselves, yet they were in harmony as to their 
 tones with the smile with which they were spoken. In fact, 
 he had one of the few grand surprises of his life; and it 
 was but for an instant. Opening the door with her left 
 hand, she was with difficulty keeping some one back and 
 out of view with her right arm extended behind her ; and 
 the meeting was ended almost in a moment. He hardly 
 observed in his dazed condition, as he walked away, the 
 loud and merry yet jarring laugh of some one from within, 
 as the door closed behind him. And this explained his 
 eagerness, and yet his unwillingness, to speak to Mr. Nogens 
 about it, during his call upon him. 
 
 As he left that silent gentleman, it quickened his walk 
 toward Mr. Parsons's house, the hope that he might learn 
 something from him ; for, that there was something singular 
 in the case, some mystery behind the loveliness of the girl, 
 he felt assured. 
 
 His destination proved to be farther away in the suburbs 
 than he had supposed. Once he stopped a sailor at a cor- 
 ner, to ask the way. He had not observed, in his hurry, that 
 he was drunk, so very drunk that he was highly flattered 
 at being questioned, was overflowing with information, and 
 both dignified and effusive in the manner in which, at great 
 length, and holding firmly to Mr. Venable, he told him the 
 way ; but told him so entirely wrong, that it was an hour be- 
 fore he found himself at last at the front gate of Mr. Par- 
 sons's place. And a magnificent place it was, containing 
 about ten acres closed within a plank fence close and high. 
 He could see, over the top of this, a profusion of trees, the 
 house with its observatory and flagstaff on the roof in the 
 midst. As he came to the gate, Mr. Parsons walked rapidly 
 out, recognized his pastor, turned around after passing him 
 in his haste, and came back. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," he said ; " but I am in a terrible 
 hurry just now : sorry to see you, in fact. How are you ?
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. / 
 
 The fact is, I have just thought that the storm when you came 
 must have washed out the channel of Hacamac. It is at the 
 other end of the island, and ought to be the only city on it. 
 I am the owner of Hacamac, you know. It is weeks ago 
 since that storm, but I never thought about it. Ten minutes 
 ago the idea struck me like a shot. How is Gen. Buttolph ? 
 You ought not to be stopping there. I will show you how 
 and why." And the old man, tall and thin and eager, began 
 in almost breathless haste to draw a diagram in the sand. 
 "Here, you see, is St. Jerome. Miserable place ! wretched 
 channel. This is the arm of the sea. Now," making marks 
 deep and sweeping, with the end of a stalk of sugar-cane 
 picked up from the ground, " this point of the island pro- 
 jecting into the ocean is Hacamac, my property. Channel 
 on this side," and he made a mark ; " still deeper channel 
 on this side," mark yet more vigorous. "See? Why, 
 sir, the navies of the universe could lie at my wharves there. 
 Plenty of water, plenty, oceans ! And it struck me this 
 instant, that the last storm must have washed my bars clean 
 away. I am going to get Capt. Chaffin to take me out in 
 his schooner right off. Next time you come, I will show you 
 round. From four to six fathoms, I feel confident. And 
 you like St. Jerome ? It is because you know nothing what- 
 ever about it. I cannot see how a man can be such a fool. 
 Ten years from to-day, there will not be a house here. Look 
 at my town, Hacamac. Look ! an idiot could understand ; " 
 and Mr. Parsons proceeded, sugar-cane in hand, to lay off 
 upon the loose earth the points of compass, bearings, bars, 
 channels, islands, and all, talking swiftly and eagerly. 
 
 " But, bless my soul," he suddenly said, " I cannot fool 
 away any more time. And it reminds me that your sermons 
 are too long. Good-by. Come and see me soon. I have 
 five hundred things in there to show you. You have heard 
 of my terraqueous machine ? No : I walk too fast to be 
 bothered with you. Thank you. Sorry you came to-day.
 
 68 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Glad to see you." And the speaker was off, only to turn 
 around and come back again, a change in his manner. " All 
 I do, sir," he said solemnly, " is for the Master. The entire 
 world lies in wickedness and woe. A good part of the 
 fiddlesticks and nonsense of Christians to-day is in thinking 
 that the world can be converted with a few thousands, or a few 
 hundreds of thousands. It will take millions on millions of 
 money to build churches and send missionaries. I am try- 
 ing to make money chiefly for that." There was a sincerity 
 in the tones of the gaunt old man, a sudden lowering and 
 sweetening as well as slackening of his speech, which con- 
 firmed Mr. Venable in all he had heard of the excellent 
 individual, whose eyes brightened as he added, " As I told 
 you before, I have an idea. It is, how to convert the Roman 
 Catholics. A splendid idea ! I have made accurate calcu- 
 lation. It can be done in fifteen years. It is a glorious 
 plan, the best I ever made. My idea of Essential Fruit, even 
 my great invention of Focussed Flesh, is nothing to it. It is 
 sure to succeed. But good-by. Not now. Next time 
 Look here," he added : " has Miss Aurelia Jones sent you 
 any thing special as yet ? Ah, well, never mind ! Just wait. 
 But good-by, good-by ! " and with his head bent forward he 
 made up for lost time as he hurried away.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH WE COME TO KNOW COL. ROLAND, MR. FARCE FAN- 
 THORP, AND BEGIN TO BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH MISS ZEO. 
 
 ONE morning, about a week after parting so abruptly 
 from Mr. Parsons, Mr. Venable was taking a walk be- 
 fore breakfast, upon the beach, which was so near to Gen. 
 Buttolph's that the last sound he heard at night, as well as 
 the first in the morning, was the dash of its waves. It had 
 a soothing influence when, pretty tired after his day's work, 
 he fell asleep to its rhythmic roar, and he yielded himself 
 pleasurably to its billows, as, lifting and lowering him, it 
 bore him at last, unconscious and far away, upon the ocean 
 of dreams. It was the sea which slowly awoke him in the 
 morning, as if its surges were bearing him back again from 
 darkness and sleep to light and labor ; and he was forming 
 that passion for it which would forever make an inland life 
 dull and tame in comparison. 
 
 Upon the morning in question, he was strolling slowly 
 along the white sand, enjoying the cool air and the waves 
 lapsing into lines of crisp foam at his feet. So absorbed was 
 he in thought, his head upon his bosom as he walked, that 
 he did not observe a tall pedestrian who had come from 
 behind the heaps of drifted sand in the distance, and was 
 rapidly approaching him along the beach. 
 
 "Good-morning," the other called to him while some 
 yards away. "I am glad to see that there are two men
 
 /O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 sensible enough to be abroad so early ; " and Mr. Venable 
 saw that it was Mr. Parsons. " I spent last night at Haca- 
 mac, and am in a hurry to get home," he continued without 
 waiting for a reply : " if you will turn, and walk fast enough, 
 I will be glad to have you go with me. Col. Roland had a 
 wretched editorial in his ' Standard ' yesterday, in regard to 
 Hacamac ; and I've been out to take fresh measurements in 
 order to refute him. But what can you expect of a man 
 who is a politician as well as a Heaven help him! a 
 lawyer and a poet? Met Roland yet? " 
 
 Mr. Venable had met him once or twice. 
 
 " Ever read in history about the Earl of Warwick? " Mr. 
 Parsons went on in his hurried manner ; and his companion 
 turned and accompanied him, saying, " Do you mean the 
 king-maker in the English War of the Roses? " 
 
 " Yes, the man that made kings out of any thing he could 
 lay his hands on, and who tried to make them work, which 
 they didn't. Well," Mr. Parsons continued, " Col. Roland 
 did that very thing. I'm an inventor. Some day I intend 
 giving you a ride along this very beach, in a machine I have 
 patented. But the colonel beats me. He invented a gov- 
 ernor." 
 
 "A governor? You mean, of a steam-engine. It con- 
 sists of two iron balls " 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " the other interrupted Mr. Venable 
 brusquely. " He invented Gov. Magruder, Old Ugly, the 
 governor of our State. You've heard of him ? Very good. 
 The way of it was this : Roland is a smart fellow, and very 
 ambitious. He is a fine speaker, a splendid writer, has the 
 smoothest manners for ladies of any man I know, but some- 
 how he can't get the people to vote for him ; or, if they ever 
 did, they swore they never would again. Very well. When 
 the colonel saw that, he looked about him, as a man does 
 for a lump of clay when he is going to make a jug. D'you 
 see ? That's the way he picked up Magruder. He had just
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 7 1 
 
 come into his father's big sugar- plantation, Magruder, I 
 mean, and no more thought of being a governor than of 
 being a saint, and he's far enough from that! Well, Ro- 
 land went to work, first on him and then for him. He had 
 him nominated in caucus, and then in the convention. Of 
 course Magruder gave his money like water. Roland wrote 
 him up in dozens of papers, paid young lawyers and old 
 ones too to stump the State for him, got up a cry about his 
 being born on our new soil, worked for him like a beaver 
 and a fox rolled into one. Magruder is not able to make 
 a speech, but he more than made up for that by his popu- 
 lar manners, and by shaking everybody's hand. Never saw 
 him?" To this abrupt question Mr. Venable was com- 
 pelled to reply in the negative. 
 
 "Well, I want you to see him. Do you know what a 
 magnet is?" Mr. Parsons asked. 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " No, you never saw one in good earnest. Wait till you 
 see Magruder. I wish every preacher, every Christian, was 
 like him; in that, I mean, not in any thing else. You'll 
 understand what I mean when you see him. Oh, well ! be- 
 fore Magruder knew where he was, his popular manners and 
 his money had made him governor of the State, under 
 Col. Roland's engineering, you observe. Of course Roland 
 was his secretary of state. He wrote all his speeches and 
 state papers. His Excellency's term was out not long ago ; 
 and now the colonel is working to make him a United- 
 States senator, all for his own ends. Time for you to go 
 back, is it ? Better go on with me, and get some breakfast. 
 I want you to see my wife and our little girl, our little 
 Owny we call her. But no," Mr. Parsons added, in the same 
 rapid breath, " you had better not, on the whole : they might 
 not expect you so early, might not like it. But you must 
 come soon. Good-by. I doubt whether either one of them 
 will do. But," and Mr. Parsons closed his irrelevant remark
 
 72 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 with such emphasis as to bring color to the cheeks of his 
 perplexed companion, as once before, " I am sure that one 
 won't do at all, at all ! " 
 
 Old and weather-beaten, odd, even grotesque, as Mr. Par- 
 sons was, there was such sincerity in his headlong manner, 
 such a kindly look in his deep-set eyes, that it was impos- 
 sible not to like him. But Mr. Venable was not afraid, as 
 he walked homeward, of being late for breakfast. Things 
 proceeded in too leisurely a manner for that at the luxurious 
 table of his indolent host. 
 
 That very evening he was called down from his room to 
 see Col. Roland. He found him an unusually good-looking 
 gentleman, closely shaved, fresh- colored, carefully dressed, 
 with hands which were very soft and white. He spoke also 
 in low and persuasive tones, using a good deal of gesture 
 and adjective. Mr. Venable took the more interest in him, 
 having been told that he was a literary man. As a general 
 thing, people in St. Jerome read little, he had found, beyond 
 the papers. Gen. Buttolph cared little even for them, and 
 beyond his genial manner was rather a dull companion when 
 sugar-planting was not the topic. 
 
 When Col. Roland had shaken hands with Mr. Venable, 
 and said a few things in a polished manner, he turned away 
 to the young ladies, whom he had also asked to see. In 
 contrast with Mr. Parsons, and in a lesser sense with every- 
 body else unless it was Gen. Buttolph, the colonel was not 
 in the slightest hurry. Although a partisan editor, he gener- 
 ally said his severest things in such flowing language that he 
 had been engaged in but one duel, and not once in a street- 
 fight. 
 
 The success of the man evidently lay in his social quali- 
 ties and in his youthful appearance, which, although his hair 
 had been silvered for twenty years, left you in doubt whether 
 he was sixty or thirty; most of all in his devotion to the 
 ladies, especially to those, like the daughters of Gen. But-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 73 
 
 tolph, just making their entrance into society. And this 
 last was the most remarkable thing about the colonel. From 
 his earliest youth he had been a devoted admirer of the 
 ladies ; had always been in love ; had been engaged scores 
 of times, it was said, to many girls when they first came out ; 
 yet, somehow, was a bachelor still. All this would be incom- 
 plete, if it were not added that the colonel was far more 
 popular with the ladies and the little girls than he was with 
 the boys and the men ; and all were quite prepared for it now 
 when he drew from his breast-pocket, and read, a copy of 
 verses in honor of the young ladies and of their return to 
 their native city ; the poetry, and the reading of it, being 
 wonderfully good. 
 
 Mr. Venable had a really delightful evening, although only 
 as a listener and looker-on, for the colonel had small refer- 
 ence to him in comparison with the ladies. But it was not 
 so much in what the colonel said, as he reclined somewhat 
 languidly in an easy-chair, toying with Miss Irene's cologne- 
 bottle which happened to be on the table. He had many 
 anecdotes to tell of the storm and of the overflow, of the 
 leading men and women of the city, of books and events of 
 all kinds, social, political ; but it was the extraordinary way 
 he drew out Miss Irene herself, which interested Mr. Vena- 
 ble most. " How charmingly you are dressed, and how very 
 charmingly you are looking ! " had been one of the visitor's 
 earliest remarks to the lady. He had said the same many 
 thousand times in other parlors, but it was a fact in this case. 
 Since her return home, Miss Irene had slipped the chrysalis 
 of the school for the butterfly attire of a young lady of 
 wealth and position, with an energy which marked all of her 
 ways. She was really a beautiful blonde ; but her beauty lay 
 chiefly in her brilliancy, and the sparkle of her eye was ex- 
 ceeded by the incessant speech of her frank lips. 
 
 The minister felt himself thrown very much into the shade 
 as the colonel, by the subtle flattery of his deference and
 
 74 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 admiring attentions, as well as by ever-varying suggestions, 
 urged the young lady on. He had flavored one of his remarks 
 with a proverb from the French ; and she, as if unconscious- 
 ly, had passed from her own language into that, and chatted 
 on so swiftly and smilingly that her visitor, holding up a dep- 
 recating hand as he sat, had to acknowledge his comparative 
 ignorance of the language. Then, at the request of Mr. 
 Venable, watching his opportunity, she had seated herself 
 at the piano, and played and sung in a way which no doubt 
 astonished the excited girl herself only less than it did the 
 gentlemen. Italian opera was no more familiar to her than 
 were German Rhine songs. One or two of Beranger's mel- 
 odies were rendered in the original, with as much grace as 
 a little song of the colonel's last composition, and dedicated 
 to herself. Once or twice Mr. Venable winced a little at her 
 energy when conversation was resumed, she was so very 
 decided in her opinions about people and things. 
 
 " I am afraid we will not see Miss Zeo," the colonel said 
 at last. 
 
 " She said she would come in directly," Irene answered. 
 " Excuse me, and I will see." 
 
 "You are highly favored, Mr. Venable," Col. Roland 
 said, as she left the room, " to be the general's guest. Miss 
 Irene will be, I may say is already, the belle of St. Jerome. 
 One rarely meets a more beautiful and brilliant woman. 
 With Miss Zenobia I have less acquaintance. An excellent 
 young lady, I am told. Although younger, she seems to be 
 older than her sister." 
 
 At this moment there was a ring at the door, and soon 
 after a laugh which rang more loudly ; for Miss Irene, in 
 returning, had found Mr. Fanthorp in the hall, and they 
 entered the room together. Mr. Venable was introduced to 
 that gentleman, and received him with more trepidation than 
 curiosity ; for of Mr. Farce Fanthorp he had heard a good 
 deal.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 75 
 
 He was a small, thick-set, swarthy-faced man, whom you 
 would not look at a second time if you did not know him, 
 and whom you would not fail to watch closely and curiously 
 if you did. The minister's eyes had happened to be on him 
 the first time Mr. Fanthorp attended church after his arrival. 
 Commodore Grandheur was in the act of passing, with his 
 peculiar stateliness, the contribution-box to that gentleman, 
 who was seated in a conspicuous pew. As the solemn offi- 
 cial held the box before him, Mr. Fanthorp held up his left 
 hand as if for him to wait, while with the right hand he 
 searched every pocket, first upon one side and then upon 
 the other, apparently for his purse. When every face in the 
 congregation was turned that way, the commodore coloring 
 high at the detention, Mr. Fanthorp gravely produced, as 
 the result of his search, a bar of tobacco, and bit out a quid, 
 looking up at the commodore with the face of a babe. 
 
 Col. Roland was too perfect a man of the world to show 
 it, or he would have exhibited his aversion for Mr. Fanthorp. 
 If there was any object for which the colonel had both hatred 
 and apprehension, it was this small, solemn-visaged young 
 man. When it is added that Mr. Fanthorp was neatly but 
 plainly dressed, and had dark eyes and hair and scanty mous- 
 tache, all has been said that a photograph, even, could 
 convey. Beyond a perfect ease of manner, amounting to 
 assurance, there was nothing to object to in this inoffensive 
 gentleman. Nor did he obtrude himself into the conversa- 
 tion, beyond a humorous remark or two, the fun of which was 
 increased by his peculiar solemnity. And so the conver- 
 sation flowed again as fluently as before, except that Col. 
 Roland had straightened himself up in his chair, did not 
 refer to himself as freely as he did before, and seemed to be 
 more guarded in his manner. Leaving the others to them- 
 selves, Mr. Venable engaged in conversation with Mr. Fan- 
 thorp. As they did so he became, on account of the interest 
 the other evidently took in all he said, more interested him-
 
 76 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 self in the account he gave of his first impressions in regard 
 to St. Jerome, the people, the island generally ; especially of 
 a fishing- expedition upon which he had gone in the morning 
 with old Judge Sefton. 
 
 "I confess I enjoyed it," he continued at last. "You 
 know that the judge has nothing else to do since he left the 
 bench, but fish. He fishes every day, I believe, and all day. 
 He had often asked me before ; but we went after breakfast 
 to-day for the first time. We had long fishing-poles ; and 
 the judge showed me how, after we had waded out into the 
 sea up to our waists, to bait, and throw out my line. Almost 
 as soon as I did so, I had a bite. I had not fished since I 
 was a boy, and was greatly excited. As it was in the ocean, 
 I expected to catch something enormous. Acting on the 
 judge's instructions, I put my pole on my shoulder, and has- 
 tened ashore as fast as I could. You may imagine how 
 eagerly I drew out my line ; and, when I did, it was only a 
 little minnow that long ! " 
 
 With some gesticulations Mr. Venable tells the story. 
 Miss Irene and the colonel are listening by this time, and 
 they all laugh. But why is it that they laugh with their eyes 
 rather upon Mr. Fanthorp, to whom he is speaking, than 
 upon himself? And why do they listen so eagerly, and 
 with such a covert exchange of glances, as Mr. Fanthorp 
 proceeds, warming into it as he goes on, and with, at last, a 
 good deal of gesture, to tell also of one of his fishing-ex- 
 cursions ? Mr. Venable cannot wholly understand it. As 
 Mr. Fanthorp proceeds, Col. Roland and Irene Buttolph 
 give way to a measure of laughter beyond the fun of the 
 story, so far as the minister can see, very much so. 
 
 But he is himself greatly amused soon after. The colonel 
 had turned aside to the lady to tell her of a caucus meeting 
 he had lately attended ; and Mr. Fanthorp, addressing him- 
 self to the colonel the instant the other is through, told of 
 his experiences (and very amusing they are) at the same
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 77 
 
 meeting. With a wonderful facility, the serious-faced man 
 has somehow changed himself, as he speaks, into the person 
 he speaks to ! His attitude in his chair, his tones, his 
 manner of toying with a book as he speaks, the slightest 
 movement of hands and head and foot, to a hair's breadth 
 Mr. Fanthorp has become Col. Roland, and all with the 
 unaffected sincerity, seemingly, of a child. There is some- 
 thing exceedingly impudent, yet ludicrous, in it. The seri- 
 ousness of the speaker, and the annoyance of the colonel, 
 make it the more amusing. 
 
 Col. Roland is dampened beyond his power of recovery, 
 and turns somewhat abruptly to Mr. Venable, while Mr. Fan- 
 thorp devotes himself to the lady. But neither the clergy- 
 man nor the colonel can enter fully into their own conver- 
 sation, for watching, however furtively, the lively talk which 
 ensues between the mimic and his hostess. Miss Irene was 
 never more reckless, as if in defiance. And she is evidently as 
 unconscious as Mr. Venable was himself: yet this audacious 
 visitor is imitating to her face her every gesture and inflec- 
 tion, every word, exclamation, tone, and peculiarity. The 
 insolence of the thing is almost forgotten in the subtle 
 excellence of the mimicry. 
 
 " His imitation of me was not the least like, so far as I 
 could see," Mr. Venable remarks to the colonel, in the end, 
 as they go to the window to look out on the moonlight : " yet 
 it is remarkable in this case." 
 
 "Nor does he ever succeed with me," his companion 
 added. " Scoundrel ! And he said he was at that caucus. 
 It is a falsehood. He tells such lies every day with the same 
 audacity. It is because he is of good family, that he is en- 
 dured. As to quarrelling or fighting with him, one would as 
 soon have a difficulty with a monkey. It amazes me that 
 such a puppy is tolerated. If Gen. Buttolph had seen it 
 just now, he would have horsewhipped him." 
 
 But at this moment the general and Miss Zeo came in, and
 
 ?8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the conversation changed. Who, however, looking upon the 
 father, so genial and cordial in his placid hospitality ; looking 
 upon the modest brunette who enters the room with him, sim- 
 ply a dark, quiet, low-spoken girl, who, merely seeing these 
 as they took their share of entertaining their company, could 
 have imagined all that lay outside of that parlor and that 
 presence ? Something immeasurably beyond any mimicry 
 of Mr. Farce Fanthorp, in that ! 
 
 Take as a specimen the events of that very day, only one 
 of many. Mr. Venable had been greatly pleased, as we have 
 said, with the almost cherubic innocence of Theodore, who 
 went, however, by no other name than that of Grit, the 
 plump and quiet-mannered little son of his host. A more 
 beautiful child of ten or thereabout, gentle, soft in eye and 
 voice and rounded cheek, you never saw. Yet was this an- 
 gel really and truly of the infernal sort instead. It was an 
 old story of similar circumstances. His mother had died 
 two years before. As soon as his sisters had gone to their 
 school in another State, the boy had passed almost exclu- 
 sively into the care of the negroes at the sugar-plantation up 
 country, and on the place of his father in St. Jerome. True, 
 when in the city he was a favorite scholar of Miss Aurelia 
 Jones in sabbath school. That warm-hearted lady loved, 
 fondled, and made much of her " darling little dumpling," 
 as she called him. Nor was he without due teaching during 
 the week. But, in city and country, almost all of his life 
 was spent with the slaves. From his birth his will was law 
 among these. It was impossible he should not have grown 
 up the abominable little Nero he was, self-willed, passion- 
 ate, cruel, lying, impure, foul in word and inmost heart, be- 
 yond license of description in these pages. 
 
 That day, merely as an instance, his pony had been locked 
 up from him, by order of his father, for some one of his 
 many offences. The moment the general had left the place, 
 he had seized an axe, and began to hew at the door of the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 79 
 
 stable. In vain old Plenty and young Plenty and aunt 
 Plenty had tried to persuade, to threaten, to bribe. They 
 dared not lay hands on the boy. He would have struck 
 them with the axe, bitten them, killed them if he could. 
 Some devil seemed to enter him as he chopped furiously 
 away. His sister Irene had tried her powers, but he had 
 turned upon her with such a torrent of foul language that 
 she had fled to the house ; and she as well as the rest gave 
 it up until " Miss Zeo " should return from market, to 
 which she had been driven in the buggy by one of the negro 
 men ; having, for excellent reasons, taken that duty on her- 
 self since she had come back. As. she drove into the yard, 
 the young savage had forced an entrance into the stable, 
 and was in the act of leading his pony out. It was far from 
 being the first occasion of the kind, and the whole aspect 
 of the girl altered as she advanced upon him. No one sug- 
 gested that she should wait until the general came back. 
 There were, alas ! reasons why the boy should not be left 
 until then. She must master him, and as rapidly as possi- 
 ble, before the arrival of her father. 
 
 " Theodore, dear Theo, please," she began as she went 
 up to him. But her approach was repaid with a scowl and 
 a vicious kick. " Grit, Gritty, Clear Grit," she endeavored, 
 " you will for me, for Zeo ; " and nothing could be more 
 winning, humble even, than the attitude and persuasions of 
 the girl, her eyes seeking, but in vain, to catch those of the 
 infant desperado, as he stood with one foot in the stirrup of 
 his pony's saddle. "Dear brother ! " and she laid her hand 
 on his shoulder. But he had planned in reference to her as 
 well as the others, knowing her by this time fully as well as 
 he knew the remainder of the household. On the instant 
 he struck her full in the face with his whip, and opened 
 upon her a torrent of the language heard from infancy on 
 the sugar-plantation. The poor girl turned pale, and glanced 
 up. Suppose Mr. Venable should hear? But no ; his room
 
 8O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 was on the other side of the house. Besides, he was obliv- 
 ious just then, in the preparation of the closing sentences of 
 his next Sunday's sermon. She understood the emergency 
 better than any one. Irene is taller and stronger ; but on 
 the instant she has taken the young savage in her arms, torn 
 him from his pony, and, one hand upon his mouth, summon- 
 ing the servants to her assistance, she bore him, kicking 
 and struggling, into the stable, through the demolished door, 
 into an inner room there, tied her veil firmly over his mouth 
 to stop his paroxysm of foul language, and held him there, 
 with a white face but a grasp of iron, until he subsides from 
 sheer exhaustion. It takes a long time to conquer him, and 
 she does it alone ; but at last, hours after, she has the thor- 
 oughly spoiled boy in bed in her own room, asleep, the door 
 locked upon them. Her task has been a terrible one ; but, 
 alas ! bad as her brother is, he is the smallest part of her 
 troubles. 
 
 She rises from his bedside at last, bathes her face, arranges 
 her dress, smoothes her disordered hair, eats a little of the 
 meal that has been brought to the room for her brother 
 the scraps that he has left. Then she looks around, pulls 
 down the curtain a little more, sees that the door is indeed 
 locked, reads mechanically a verse or two from her little 
 Bible, and sinks upon her knees beside her brother, utterly 
 worn out. 
 
 " Help ! " she murmurs in disconnected prayer. " I am 
 
 but as a child Help ! for the things that are so much 
 
 worse so much worse than my brother ! O my Saviour ! 
 
 It is more than a girl can do. Oh, my poor, poor 
 father! Lord I don't understand money only a girl 
 as yet. And a woman too Lord, is it what a woman 
 
 a girl should know ? " and, as she murmured it, her face 
 rested on the bed, her neck, her very hands, clasped in 
 supplication, crimson with shame, a shame that burns and 
 hurts, a fire rather which scorches. " O my Saviour ! oh
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 8 1 
 
 my poor papa ! O Christ, it is so terrible and so horri- 
 ble!" She shudders as she kneels; her head sinks, from 
 sheer exhaustion, upon the bed ; for her contest with Grit 
 began early in the day, and it is now late in the afternoon. 
 
 It was her weariness from this which had detained her 
 from coming that evening into the parlor to aid in enter- 
 taining Col. Roland and Mr. Fanthorp. But she had not 
 mentioned the matter to her father when he returned to the 
 house. As to Miss Irene, when she had fled from the vio- 
 lence of her brother it had been to her piano, at which she 
 had played long and loud in order to drown any sounds of 
 the strife ; when she tired of that, she had read a novel, taken 
 a nap, and then dressed for the evening : so that she was 
 quite ready to entertain and be entertained. 
 
 "Is it not remarkable," Col. Roland demanded of Mr. 
 Venable that evening, when the two had gone to the other 
 side of the parlor to examine a painting upon the walls, 
 leaving Mr. Fanthorp for the moment in conversation with 
 the ladies, " is it not really wonderful that these sisters 
 should be so unlike? Miss Irene is full of life and soul. 
 As you say, she is as intelligent as she is beautiful, and how 
 accomplished she is ! It is a pity that Miss Zeo is so quiet. 
 Did you observe it ? she seems to have hurt her face in some 
 way." 
 
 Irene Buttolph had made a deep impression upon both 
 of them. " She is a splendid girl," Col. Roland said to 
 himself as he drew off his coat that night on going to bed ; 
 " and really I must marry some day. I will engage myself 
 to her as soon as it is possible to do so, and this time I will 
 marry. Especially as the governor agrees with me, that he 
 cannot possibly do better than to take Miss Zenobia. She 
 is extremely quiet, and will gladly accept him. If he is a 
 fool, she will never know it. An alliance with a man like 
 Gen. Buttolph will help us in regard to the senate ; and, be- 
 ing brothers-in-law ? Old Ugly will be an amazing help to me
 
 82 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 when he gets there. It is the best plan I have ever laid." 
 By a remarkable coincidence Mr. Venable was saying to 
 himself in his room at the same moment, " It is a wonder 
 I could have thought of comparing the two sisters. Miss 
 Irene may be a charming lady in her dashing way, but how 
 inferior, although I wish I thoroughly knew why, to Miss Zeo ! 
 What could Mr. Parsons have meant when he said, ' Not that 
 one particularly ? ' My health must be growing vigorous very 
 rapidly ; or is it this impulsive climate ? What a beautiful 
 girl it was who opened the door to me at Mrs. Chaffingsby's ! 
 I wish I had gone in. Such beauty is too great to be real. 
 As soon as I can I will go there again, purely from curiosity, 
 though I am a fool to think of such things so soon. But next 
 to my work, I'll try to know that dark and silent girl. I 
 wish I could see as much of her as I do of her sister ; and 
 I wish she would say more to me, or that I could say more 
 to her. Above all, I wish I could find out in what her power 
 lies. There is one comfort : neither Col. Roland, even if 
 he were young enough, much less Mr. Fanthorp, nobody, 
 in fact, would dare to make love to her. Some day 
 some day " At the same hour the lady spoken of was 
 bending over her brother. He had eaten a hearty supper, 
 and had gone to sleep again, a slumbering St. John in 
 childhood as he lay, so innocent he seemed. She stooped 
 down and kissed him, though not upon the lips. 
 "As God shall help me, I will" she said.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN WHICH WE BID GOOD-BY FOR A TIME, TO THINGS INFERIOR, 
 AND ASCEND INTO THE REALM OF ART. 
 
 TO insure access next time at Capt. Chaffin's house, 
 Mr. Venable had written to say how much he had 
 regretted not finding the family at home before, and beg- 
 ging to know when it would be convenient to them to see 
 him. A prompt reply came in the person of the captain 
 himself. Mr. Venable went down into the parlor to find 
 that seaman seated, very uncomfortably, in one of the chairs, 
 his head seeming all the harder by reason of the closely- 
 cropped hair, the beard and moustache as wooden as the 
 rest of the walnut-hued countenance. The captain pre- 
 ferred to retain his low-crowned and glazed hat ; and it lay, 
 crown uppermost, upon his knees, which were drawn close 
 together, his hands resting upon the top of his hat, the balls 
 of his lumpy thumbs pressed together as if in argument. 
 
 "She begs me to present her compliments," he said, 
 projecting the upper part of his person farther forward as he 
 sat, and as if repeating a message committed to memory. 
 " Also she will be pleased to see Mr. Venable of course 
 she means you at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, if 
 the hour be agreeable to Mr. Venable you she means." 
 
 " I will come with pleasure," said the other. 
 
 " I would come and show you the way," the captain 
 added less mechanically, and as if with a load off his mind ; 
 " but I leave by light with Mr. Parsons, Ezra Micajah."
 
 84 A YEAR WORTH DIVING. 
 
 " For Hacamac? " Mr. Venable inquired. 
 
 " No, not this time," the other replied, each sentence to 
 itself, as if it were a rope given out from his hand coil by 
 coil. " Hacamac is only one. He has one thousand things 
 on hand. This is a steamboat. No paddle-boxes. Nary 
 screw. It has a belt with paddle-boards on it all along, one 
 to every two feet. The belt is driven along deck from the 
 stern, over the bow into the water, all along under the keel, 
 up out of the water at the helm, up and along the deck and 
 down over the bow again, and so on for ever and ever. 
 It's Mr. Parsons's idea. He invents : I apply. A dead 
 failure. Not the first. Nor the last. I know it now. He 
 will know it by night. Not a better man alive. If his 
 smartness," Capt. Chaffin added after consideration, " could 
 get down the companion-way into his hold, his heart I 
 mean, and his goodness could climb up from his heart 
 into his head, you see. But it is a singular world. Here 
 on the island especially. I'm a silent man, myself; that is, 
 away from St. Jerome. It's in the air, which is like brandy. 
 You talk just to talk. There's my wife. Before she came 
 here she no more dreamed she had any talent than you do. 
 Nor then, until that long-haired artist man, that taught her 
 how to paint, died at our house. Be gentle-like when you 
 call," he added, rising to go. " She is all nerves. All over 
 her they are, like ropes to a ship. Don't express your 
 admiration too strong." And the captain departed the 
 instant his errand was done, having the mechanical precision 
 of an engine in that as in every thing else. 
 
 When Mrs. Chaffingsby opened the door to Mr. Venable 
 at the set time, she was the very person he had expected to 
 see, from the much that had been said to him of her ; only, 
 if the phrase may be allowed, more so. He had not sup- 
 posed that a woman could be so small and light and slight, 
 and yet be a wife and a mother. She had an old and care- 
 worn face ; and yet it was one which was singularly childish
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 85 
 
 and almost sweet, with an unusual abundance of light-col- 
 ored hair disposed in curls about her head, before and 
 behind. 
 
 " I mentioned four o'clock," she said, as she welcomed 
 him into the house, and took his hat by the edges of its 
 brim with only the points of the fingers of a hand on either 
 side, and as if it were full of water, and stood it on a table, 
 " because you would then have had your nap." She al- 
 luded to the custom, as universal in that latitude as dinner, 
 of the siesta after that meal. " I hoped to have had mine, 
 but I could not sleep. The least excitement, you know " 
 And she lifted a hand, which he saw had more than one 
 diamond upon it, to her forehead. In her dress, as in her 
 voice and movement, there was something as of a large 
 doll ; no, rather of a good little girl dressed for a child's 
 party, a perplexing blending of the two with the woman 
 of forty years or more, which puzzled her visitor. There 
 was a curious intermixture in her, not merely of woman and 
 child, but of the natural and the artificial also, which was, 
 however, not more bewildering to any other than it was to 
 herself. 
 
 " Capt. Chaffin called," began her visitor, as she went 
 before him with a springing step, opening a door leading to 
 one side from the hall, and motioning him to enter. 
 
 " Capt. Chaffingsby, if you please," she corrected him, 
 with a smile. " We always prefer that appellation. Walk 
 in, if you will be so good ; " and he did so, avoiding any 
 steady look at certain pictures with which the hall was 
 adorned. For the same reason he confined his eyes to the 
 face of the lady during the opening conversation which en- 
 sued. 
 
 " I have had the great pleasure," she said at last, dispos- 
 ing her arms across each other on her lap, as she sat, ap- 
 parently, on the extreme edge of her chair, " of hearing you 
 several times. I dare not adventure myself too often. Any
 
 86 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 sentiment heard from the pulpit too striking, or too strongly, 
 expressed, seriously affects me. I bear it home like a blow, 
 and it prevents my sleeping. The same of the singing, if 
 there should be any discord, or if it should be too emo- 
 tional. So of the supplications. Too great a degree of 
 fervor is what I am compelled to avoid exposure to, as I 
 would typhoid-fever, so sensitive am I to all contagion, so 
 exceedingly sensitive," she added with a shiver, and contin- 
 ued, " My nerves are tense, because of the unceasing strain 
 upon them of my art. Yes, I am very, very sympathetic. 
 I regret about the Wednesday-evening meetings. Once, 
 when there, Mr. Quatty succeeded in speaking. As you 
 may suppose, I could neither sleep, nor partake of my food, 
 for many days. It is very, very foolish, but can I help it? " 
 And through all her affectation as of a smiling Frenchwo- 
 man, there was none the less the sincerity of a child. 
 
 " Capt. Chaf Your husband seems of a vigorous con- 
 stitution. I envy him his strength," her guest replied. 
 
 " You are right. He is as the rugged oak braving, in this 
 case literally, the elemental strife," she said ; "as the sturdy 
 oak to which I am the frail and clinging vine. I am exces- 
 sively nervous, and he is very considerate. Nature, which so 
 wonderfully harmonizes its colors in earth and sea and sky, 
 has attuned us also, each to the other. My husband is a 
 noble man," she added, all affectation gone from the wife 
 for the moment. " Like all seamen, he is fond of tobacco : 
 yet has he wholly ceased to smoke, and is daily reducing his 
 quid. No man more fond of his grog ; in moderation, I 
 mean. For my sake he never tastes liquor now, even when 
 most exposed. The least odor," and the lady closed her 
 eyes with a shudder, " kills me." 
 
 Upon this, Mr. Venable, postponing his amusement until 
 he has left the house, tells her of the like sensitiveness as 
 related of Queen Elizabeth ; does so at some length, to get 
 himself the readier for what he knows is coming. The lady 
 listens, pleased, but a little impatient.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 87 
 
 "These are a few of my poor endeavors," she says at last, 
 lifting a hand toward the wall. " Possibly you may have 
 heard of them." 
 
 Mr. Venable had heard of them. Not from her husband 
 alone : every person he had met had spoken to him about 
 Mrs. Chaffingsby, and in the same way, Mr. Nogens ex- 
 cepted. He had experimented upon Mr. Nogens with the 
 name of the lady. Listening seriously to all that he had 
 asked about Mrs. Chaffingsby, Mr. Nogens had felt with his 
 finger to see if the curl on his forehead was all right, and 
 said, "Yes?" but that was all. 
 
 The visitor drew in a long breath as for a dive, or rather 
 for an ascent into regions too ethereal for common breath- 
 ing, and looked up. The other arose, and explained before 
 a life-size painting upon the wall, in which yellow drapery 
 largely predominated, 
 
 " Judas, as you will perceive. You will observe the bag 
 of money. I flatter myself on the firmness of his clutch 
 upon it. Please remark how rapidly he is moving ; as also 
 how his mantle flies away from him behind as he leans ea- 
 gerly forward. He is on his way, having just received his 
 money. I pride myself somewhat upon his desperate hur- 
 ry. I derived ideas of that from Mr. Parsons ; also upon 
 the gluttonous greed of his eyes ; " and the artist stepped 
 aside to allow her guest a full view, her eager gaze fastened 
 upon his countenance. " I gave him," she added, " all the 
 yellow I could, his garments as well as his hair and beard, 
 because it is the color I detest. A horrible object, is he 
 not?" she asked proudly. 
 
 " He is, indeed ! " her visitor said ; for all the warning he 
 had received hardly prepared him for the shock. A more 
 abominable daub, a more absurd caricature upon Judas, 
 could not be imagined. But in every wreck there is some 
 splinter to which we can cling. The other laid hold, so to 
 speak, upon the eyes of the wretched piece of work, and 
 sustained himself for the moment.
 
 88 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " The eyes are wonderfully well done," he said, as soon as 
 he could : " wonderfully well," he repeated after a while, and 
 more composedly; and he told the truth. Every law of 
 outline, anatomy, light, shade, color, every thing, had been 
 outraged in the painting ; but amid the chaos, the eyes were 
 admirable. 
 
 " Every one says the same," Mrs. Chaffingsby replied 
 somewhat peevishly. "My husband may have told you," 
 she added, while the other gazed silently upon the traitor, 
 " of the artist who was with us. He came here, a consump- 
 tive, for the sake of our climate. It happened that he sailed 
 over with my husband on the same steamer, and was so low 
 that they refused to take him at the hotels, on the plea that 
 they did not have (which was true) a fireplace in the house 
 except in the kitchen. They knew that he would die on 
 their hands. I was not so nervous then. In fact, I was not 
 nervous at all, until I began to paint ; and I consented to 
 take him in. He grew better, and remained in our house 
 for many months. He was poor, and we would take no 
 compensation. To gratify him, I took lessons instead. He 
 objected, but I insisted on beginning with learning how to 
 paint the eyes. When a girl, I was told that the little trans- 
 parent bulb in the egg was the rudiment of the eye of the 
 future chicken ; and I insisted," Mrs. Chaffingsby said with 
 increasing eagerness, " in beginning where nature began. 
 We gave months to it. Before we had fairly begun at any 
 thing else, he died ; but he left us his sketches, his paints, 
 and implements and books. Moreover, I had acquired a pas- 
 sion for art, for high art. I painted from morning until night. 
 I often arose during the silent hours of darkness, to resume 
 my brush. Could I sleep, think you, with a picture like this 
 of the vile betrayer upon my mind ? No, sir. I poured my 
 abhorrence and hatred of the wretch upon the canvas. 
 Every nerve was strung. I could not eat. My husband 
 was far away upon the deep. If I could but render Judas
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 89 
 
 more an object of scorn and contempt than mortal had 
 ever imagined him, I would be satisfied. My religion con- 
 spired with my talent : true, my digestion was destroyed, I 
 fear forever; but no one," the little woman added with 
 fervor, " can, I flatter myself, look upon this picture without 
 emotion. You despise Judas, Mr. Venable, despise the 
 wretch more from this hour than you ever did before ! But 
 we have merely begun ; be so good as to accompany me." 
 And his hostess had wrought herself into such a state of 
 excitement as to be almost oblivious to any thing the other 
 might say, or fail to say happily for him. 
 
 The whole house was crowded with Mrs. Chaffingsby's 
 productions. Hardly a hero or a heroine of Scripture had 
 been neglected ; and every one was but a renewal of the 
 false apostle, with small alteration, each worse than the one 
 before, of attitude, drapery, color, and the like. There 
 was a certain earnest purpose in all, a violence with which 
 Peter drew his net and Paul preached, which betrayed the 
 ardent soul of the artist. It was as if the dumb were 
 struggling desperately to speak. The visitor felt at each step 
 that if Irene Buttolph had been with him she would have 
 screamed with laughter ; and it was all he could do to con- 
 trol himself as his attention was called to a Magdalen 
 weeping, a Pharisee denouncing, a Sadducee ridiculing, a 
 Herod scowling, a Pilate protesting, and a Peter denying, each 
 with his garment falling off, his hair blowing away, his legs, 
 arms, and fingers extended in a hurricane of vehemence. 
 Once the visitor thought he must yield to the energy with 
 which an angel was singing, its head thrown back, its mouth 
 open, the hands smiting the wires of a harp as if for life ; 
 but the enthusiasm of the excited creator of the abortions, 
 as she explained each in turn, so satisfied him of at least 
 the purity and intensity of her purpose, that the smile died 
 in his heart as well as upon his lips. One thing he had 
 shrunk from, but Mrs. Chaffingsby had anticipated him, her
 
 9O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 piety being stronger even than her art; and the face of 
 Christ was invariably hidden by some object or person, in 
 whatever scene he appeared. Moreover, in every case, the 
 eyes were spots of excellence, the more striking amid a 
 wilderness of absurdity. 
 
 " And that, as you observe," she said, after they had gone 
 through room after room, up stairs and down, " that is Mary 
 lamenting over Lazarus. See how bitter is her anguish. 
 When I was at work on that, my tears were streaming day 
 and night ; I was utterly exhausted with weeping, myself. 
 My art, sir, is consuming me ! " She turned as she spoke ; 
 and her visitor looked at her with new respect, she was so, 
 so frail, with a hectic glow in her cheeks. All the affectation 
 of her manner had disappeared, melted away in the fervor 
 of her enthusiasm. " The artist," she said, " told me that I 
 really had talent. But he always added, ' You will have to 
 study hard for many years, and see other works of art.' I 
 do not think so," she continued with energy ; " when one is 
 determined to create, when you give your whole soul to 
 your effort, it supersedes all else. You think so, do you not 
 Mr. Venable?" 
 
 " Excuse me, but I do not see Martha," was his polite 
 evasion. " Mary and Martha, you know," with a bow. 
 
 " I have a profound contempt for Martha," she hastened 
 to explain. " Of course it is not the detestation I have 
 scorched upon the canvas of Judas ; yet, while Mary was full 
 of feeling, her sister was totally devoid of it. You recall her 
 remark to Christ in reference to the decomposition of her 
 dead brother. She was a coarse woman, low and sordid 
 in her occupations. " I have left unpainted," she added. 
 " hardly an heroic character in my knowledge. Martha, 
 however, I have placed where she belongs, in my kitchen. 
 Since you insist upon seeing her, please follow me ; " and the 
 artist led the way, walking in a delicate manner upon her 
 tiptoes, her usual gait, as if in danger of disturbing some
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 9 1 
 
 sleeping invalid. Down stairs they went, and through rooms 
 and passages lined with her productions, which she merely 
 indicated with a wave of her hand as she passed, and 
 a word. 
 
 " St. John in Patmos, you observe. Alexander and Clitus. 
 Solomon in the plenitude of his glory. Judith and Holo- 
 fernes. This is Pilate; and I would like to point out to 
 you the Roman arrogance of his aspect, if we had time. 
 David, you observe : I would dearly love to have you conjec- 
 ture which of his psalms he was singing, but I am nearly 
 exhausted." 
 
 Mr. Venable glanced at the royal singer tearing open- 
 mouthed at his harp with vigor, and, with a polite but in- 
 articulate murmur, hastened after his guide. 
 
 " This is our kitchen," she said at last, throwing a door 
 open. " O Clara ! " she added, in the same breath : " my 
 poor nerves ! I had utterly forgotten ! " For there stood 
 the young girl whom the visitor had seen before, in kitchen 
 undress, evidently taken by surprise. The instant she saw 
 him, she had turned, and, as with a movement familiarized 
 to her by long use, had placed her hands upon the shoul- 
 ders of a boy larger than herself, and had pushed him before 
 her, and out of a side door. Mr. Venable had lingered 
 politely upon the threshold before entering ; but one glance 
 at the boy was enough. There was the negligent dress, the 
 conical head, the loose lips, the unmeaning stare, of an idiot. 
 The shrill laugh from the other side of the door, as it closed, 
 was not needed to confirm that. 
 
 As she shut the door, the girl turned and came back. 
 Her dress, though plain to the last degree, was clean. The 
 disorder of her hair but added to the charm of her perfect 
 face and heavenly eyes. 
 
 " Clara, my dear, this is Mr. Venable ; and now go to 
 Charlie," her mother said ; and the girl acknowledged their 
 visitor with a hand extended like that of a little child, and,
 
 Q2 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 as on the former occasion, the brightest and sweetest smile 
 he had ever imagined. " How is it possible," he kept say- 
 ing to himself, as she left the room, " that, with such a model 
 of all loveliness continually before her, this woman could 
 paint these atrocious daubs ? Ah ! but here is the secret of 
 those wonderful eyes ; " and he saw nothing of the Martha 
 upon the wall, except that the artist had succeeded in mak- 
 ing it, in her aversion, almost as bad as the Judas. He 
 hardly heard any thing of all that she said. The contrast of 
 every thing with this miracle of beauty was too great and 
 sudden, although he had been hoping and listening in ex- 
 pectation of meeting her, from the moment he entered the 
 house. 
 
 Nor did he breathe freely until, after parting with the 
 artist, he had left the building, and was unlatching the front 
 gate. As he did so, Mrs. Chaffingsby opened her door, and 
 called to him, beckoning with her hand. 
 
 "I am exhausted," she said, when he returned to find her 
 sunk into a sofa in the parlor, Judas clutching his bag and 
 flying with insane speed over her head. " Please hand me 
 that fan ; as also that smelling-bottle. Wait until I recover 
 myself. In the instant of your leaving," she said at last, " I 
 have had an inspiration. They always come in my mo- 
 ments of almost death. I will not be able to eat nor sleep 
 for, it may be, days. But," added she, in a quiver of ex- 
 citement, " I find I am too agitated to tell you now. It is 
 an inspiration. You may be able to prepare yourself for 
 what I intend, when I mention to you, as a clew, the names 
 of Rubens and Titian. But I am unable to explain to you 
 now. The conception shakes me like an ague. Besides, it 
 will astonish you greatly. I will let you know in time. 
 Good-by." And, once more taking a respectful leave of 
 her, Mr. Venable departed.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. VENABLE MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF HIS EXCELLENCY 
 " OLD UGLY." 
 
 ONE morning some weeks after his visit to Mrs. Chaf- 
 fingsby's, Mr. Venable came landward again from the 
 boundlessness of sleep, upon the sound, as usual, of the inroll- 
 ing surf. As he opened his eyes it was to see young Plenty 
 standing beside his bed, in an aroma, also as usual, of smok- 
 ing coffee. Although it was early it was impossible, after 
 drinking a cup, yellow and sweet and hot, to remain in his 
 room ; and he went out, as he often did, for a walk along the 
 beach. On his return, breakfast not being yet ready, he sat 
 down upon a bench under a trellis in the grounds, unwilling, 
 by going into the house, to lose a breath of the beautiful 
 morning breaking in glory upon land and sea. As he did 
 so he saw that old Plenty was standing near by with his back 
 to him, leaning upon the handle of a hoe with which the poor 
 soul deluded himself into the belief he had been working. 
 Having lived all his life, except when at college, at the South, 
 and among negroes, he was not surprised to hear the aged 
 black talking aloud although to himself. 
 
 " An' dere is Mars Grit," he heard him say, as he contem- 
 plated the distant horizon. " Did ebber Ole Marster make 
 such a debbil ob a boy as dat ? My Lord ! He's de wust 
 imp ebber lived. You lie, you fool ! I 'members his fader 
 well when he was a shaver, an' he was wus.
 
 94 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "An' den dere's dat trubble wid my mars general. Ebbry 
 night ! It wa'n't dat way in ole Firginny. How you lie, you 
 ole nigger ! My marster his fader was dat same way, an' 
 you know it ! " and following this was a groan. 
 
 "Uncle Plenty," Mr. Venable said, fearing to hear any 
 more, " who are you talking to ? " 
 
 " An' dere is dat yaller piece, dat Ifferginny dey calls 
 her," the old man continued aloud, too deaf to hear the 
 question : " O my hebbenly Marster, dat is too bad, too bad ! " 
 and he shook his white head mournfully. As he did so, the 
 other remembered that he had lately missed the mulatto girl 
 Iphigenia, who had come with them on the Nautilus, from 
 the table at which she had waited. Nor had he heard her 
 singing of late as she hung out the clothes in the back-yard. 
 He knew that she was still on the place, however, for he 
 had seen her about the stables and kitchen-garden when 
 young Plenty had led out his horse for him to ride. 
 
 " I 'member his brudders an' his fader, an' dey was just as 
 weeked. But oh, my Miss Zeo, my Miss Zeo ! " The old 
 man said it so loud, and with such a wail in his voice, that 
 the listener walked rapidly away. Was it possible that under 
 the flowers and fruits of this Eden there were indeed ser- 
 pents, as he had asked himself before, venomous and hid- 
 den, of which he in his ignorance had not dreamed? 
 
 He ate his breakfast with less appetite and more silently 
 than usual. Then he went, as was at times his habit, to 
 the vestry of the church, and gave himself up till dinner- 
 hour, to hard study. He had been accustomed, in college 
 and seminary, to devote to his meals as little time as pos- 
 sible ; but, with Gen. Buttolph, dinner especially was the 
 event of the day. The courses succeeded each other like 
 parts in music ; and, with his napkin under his double chin, 
 no one could be more leisurely than his host in the carving 
 and conversation. His guest looked at him with new inter- 
 est to-day. Gen. Buttolph always wore the best broadcloth
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 95 
 
 and the finest and whitest linen; a massive gold chain 
 across his ample vest, a large red seal upon a ring on his 
 little finger. His broad and almost purple face beamed 
 with perfect content ; his voice deep and slow and soft, and 
 his whole manner that of a wealthy gentleman who enjoyed 
 himself thoroughly. 
 
 Miss Zeo sat at the other end of the table, as quiet as usual, 
 only lifting her dark eyes with a smile and a pleasant remark 
 when spoken to ; or, as was more frequently the case, to 
 check with a glance or a low-spoken word, some misconduct 
 of Grit, seated on her left hand, or a remark too impulsive 
 and independent, of her sister upon her right, for, by com- 
 mon agreement, Miss Irene did most of the talking. But 
 on this day their guest, seated beside Grit and opposite Miss 
 Irene, did not laugh as readily as usual at her bright and 
 amusing remarks. Excusing himself as soon as possible, he 
 went to his room up-stairs, and got through the nap to which 
 he had come to yield as to a half-sin, as speedily as he could. 
 Then, stealing softly down stairs, so as to awaken no one 
 from their siesta, he hastened out to complete the last calls 
 of his pastoral round among the families of his church. 
 
 As usual, no two of the households were alike ; and, in 
 his inexperience, he had to adjust himself cautiously to each 
 case. But, rich or poor, cultivated or ignorant, they were 
 alike in the cordiality of their welcome : that was as much a 
 part of St. Jerome as the surf or the orange-trees. He had 
 promised to call on Mr. Parsons next day ; but with that 
 exception he had made, when he found himself back at 
 Gen. Buttolph's at night, a finish of his first round of visits. 
 
 Miss Zenobia did not come into the parlor immediately 
 after tea. 
 
 " Zeo has taken charge of the housekeeping," Irene said 
 to him, " and I am very glad of it. She is so good, you 
 know, and I am not." 
 
 As was usual, the general was smoking upon the front
 
 96 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 porch, in his favorite chair. " You have never told me," she 
 said to Mr. Venable, after playing for some time at the 
 instrument, "how you enjoyed Mrs. Chaffingsby and her 
 pictures. You are as prudent as Mr. Nogens. I am glad 
 I'm not at allafraid of Miss Aurelia Jones, nor of Commo- 
 dore Grandheur. I told him so last Sunday. I must tell 
 you how it happened. You see " 
 
 Mr. Venable seemed to be listening, as she gave an amus- 
 ing account of her audacity ; but all the while he was saying 
 to himself, 
 
 " How I wish it were Miss Zeo instead ! I would like to 
 ask her in regard to that beautiful girl at Capt. Chaffin's. 
 It is strange she has never spoken of her; but I don't 
 intend Miss Irene shall draw me into any fun over her poor 
 mother ; " and it was a relief when a servant ushered a gen- 
 tleman into the room. At the sound, however, of his steps 
 in the hall, and before he had shown himself, Miss Irene, 
 with a hasty hand to her hair, and a still hastier expression 
 upon her lips, fled through another door. As Mr. Venable 
 arose to meet the visitor, he saw that he was a man of mark, 
 although he did not know his name. The new-comer, who 
 was unusually tall, but well-proportioned, came immediately 
 across the parlor, and extended his hand to him, as if he 
 had been in search of him, and was glad to find him at last. 
 There was a certain willowy grace in his manner, which had 
 a singular charm for the other, whose tastes had been cul- 
 tivated in schools of art ; and his hair and beard, black and 
 silken, made a framing for the oval face with its regular fea- 
 tures and eyebrows arched and clearly defined. His smile 
 disclosed beautiful teeth, but the power of the visitor lay in 
 his eyes. It was not that they were large and dark; but 
 there was in them a something Mr. Venable had never 
 seen in the eyes of any man. " I am glad to make your 
 acquaintance, Mr. Venable, very glad," the visitor said. 
 " Although I am not in St. Jerome often, I heard of you as
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 97 
 
 soon as you came. Before we are interrupted, you must allow 
 me to thank you for your admirable discourse last Sunday." 
 But the fascination of the man was not in the complimentary 
 things he proceeded to say, any more than it was in the cor- 
 dial grasp which retained its hold upon the minister's hand. 
 There was, in harmony with his words, his tones, his entire 
 manner, a grasp also of the eyes of the visitor upon his own, 
 such as Mr. Venable had not observed in the case of any 
 other. During the conversation which followed, he was lis- 
 tened to as if he were saying that which was of the greatest 
 personal interest to the one just arrived. It was more than 
 attention on the part of the handsome stranger : it seemed 
 to be the sincerity of genuine sympathy. 
 
 " I have heard of personal magnetism," Mr. Venable said 
 to himself at last, " but I have never before experienced it. 
 Magnetism ? Yes, this must be Gov. Magruder, of whom Mr. 
 Parsons spoke." 
 
 Sure enough : Col. Roland, who accompanied the gov- 
 ernor, had tarried upon the porch to say a word to Gen. 
 Buttolph ; and, both now entering the room, the colonel 
 proceeded to introduce him. 
 
 "It is not at all necessary," he said : "Mr. Venable and 
 myself are already acquainted, well acquainted, I hope." 
 
 But Miss Zenobia and her sister came in as he said it ; 
 and, except with more deference in his manner, Col. Roland's 
 companion greeted them as cordially as he had done the 
 minister. The habit of study was so strong upon this last, 
 that, taking occasional part in the conversation which fol- 
 lowed, he could not refrain from considering, contrasting 
 even, the persons present. As to the portly host, he settled 
 himself deep in the plush of a large chair, and beamed upon 
 all present, his large hands clasped together or playing with 
 his watch-chain ; saying almost nothing, but ready with a 
 reply or a hearty laugh. The utter enjoyment of the gen- 
 eral was now, as always, something wholly new to one fresh
 
 98 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 from among people who were under the stress of religious 
 principle, moral purpose, at the least, anxious energy in 
 business ; and there was relaxation in looking at him. 
 
 As the conversation became more general and animated, 
 Mr. Venable observed that Col. Roland had been taken 
 possession of by Miss Irene, while the governor was devoting 
 himself to her sister. The habit of observation, of analysis, 
 had been too long and thoroughly developed in the student 
 for him to help noticing the difference between the two 
 men. Col. Roland was listening to Miss Irene's lively and 
 varied talk, as a polished man of the world would do, but 
 took also as much part in it as he possibly could ; eager to 
 slip in a quotation, an incident, an anecdote in regard to 
 himself. Not so with the other : Gov. Magruder made, no 
 allusion to himself, and, after the first salutations, had evi- 
 dently devolved upon the lady the burden of conversation, 
 listening intently to what Miss Zeo had to say. In fact, he 
 hung upon her words as if he feared she would cease speak- 
 ing : whenever she did, he was silent, even embarrassed, 
 and plainly becoming more so. This was so evident 
 at last, that Col. Roland came to his help, and both Miss 
 Zeo and the governor sat comparatively silent, while Miss 
 Irene and the colonel absorbed between them almost the 
 entire conversation. 
 
 As Gov. Magruder became with every passing moment, if 
 possible, more hopelessly silent, Col. Roland asked Miss 
 Irene for music ; and her execution was as brilliant, her songs 
 as varied and as spirited, as usual. At a covert gesture 
 from the colonel, his friend, when she ceased, led her sister 
 to the instrument. Mr. Venable enjoyed the music more 
 than ever. It was neither as loud, as rapid, nor as striking, as 
 in the case of the other. Had the parlor been crowded, it 
 would not have seemed unnatural for conversation to have 
 accompanied the music of the elder sister, to have been 
 stimulated by it, even; but Miss Zeo's performance was
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 99 
 
 of a kind during which it would have seemed, even in 
 the most crowded room, disreputable to converse. Yet this 
 discord ran through the impression of subdued power it 
 conveyed, this dissonance, to Mr. Venable at least, that Gov. 
 Magruder was listening with an attention which was more 
 than mere enjoyment, so much so, that, as she arose the 
 minister left the room and the house, and stood to one side 
 of the front gate, under the oleanders. It was a fear too 
 sharp and sudden to be endured shut up in a parlor. If only 
 for a few moments, he wanted to be out in the cool air, to 
 hear the roar of the surf, to be under the clouded light of 
 the moon ; supposing when he left that conversation would 
 follow the music. To his surprise the gentlemen made 
 their adieux, and came away almost as soon as she arose 
 from the instrument. It was a walk of some little distance 
 from the porch to the gate beside which Mr. Venable 
 stood in the shadows of the foliage, grasping the paling 
 and looking out upon the sea ; and the gentlemen were 
 talking in a low voice as they came. Col. Roland found 
 some difficulty in unfastening the latch of the gate ; and the 
 listener could not help hearing him curse it, and add in an 
 irritated way, 
 
 " Confound it, Magruder ! don't be a fool ! Why didn't 
 you talk to her, man? " 
 
 " I said all I could think of," the governor replied. 
 
 " Hang it, man, I kept Miss Irene off to give you a chance 
 to talk ; and," his companion added, " you sat so mum at 
 last, I had to propose music ; and then to come away the in- 
 stant it was over ! You can't possibly do better, Magruder. 
 She will make you a splendid wife. Don't be a fool ! " 
 
 "Suppose I don't know that? But," the other added, 
 " it is a cursed shame, Roland. A fellow like me ! " 
 
 At this instant the latch yielded; and with another ex- 
 clamation at it, or at his companion, Col. Roland passed 
 out, the governor undergoing what to the unwilling listener 
 seemed to be almost a scolding as they walked away.
 
 IOO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Mr. Venable returned to the parlor, but not for some time 
 after, and merely to bid his friends good-night. While he was 
 doing so, Mr. Fanthorp came in. Miss Irene seemed glad 
 to see him, but he would not take a seat. " I wouldn't 
 dare to say it, if the general had not stepped out of the 
 room," he said, after a little conversation; "but, do you 
 know, his excellency Old Ugly I passed him just now 
 came to town expressly to call upon a certain young lady ? " 
 
 " Please," Mr. Venable demanded, dreading to hear more, 
 " tell me now why they give him such a name ? I'm a new- 
 comer, and I've heard it continually." 
 
 "Because," Miss Zenobia replied, " he is young and hand- 
 some, and such a favorite among the people : it is a kind of 
 pet name." 
 
 " Everybody of decided character in the State has his 
 nickname," Mr. Fanthorp added, his own being Mr. Farce 
 Fanthorp ; " but," he continued with affected astonishment, 
 " can I believe my ears ? And you think he is handsome, 
 Miss Zenobia? Well ! It is all over ! " And Miss Irene 
 laughed, as her modest sister blushed and smiled. 
 
 " Let me show you how it will be," Mr. Fanthorp said ; 
 " only doa't let Roland know ; " and, going out into the hall, 
 he pushed up his hair, arranged his necktie, and came in 
 again. " Why, Mr. Venable," he exclaimed, personating the 
 governor with wonderful fidelity, " glad to see you, glad to 
 see you ! And Miss Irene Buttolph," and he went up to her 
 also, and took her cordially yet deferentially by the hand. 
 " We have had charming weather today. And this is Miss 
 Zenobia." Mimicking the governor in tone and manner, 
 he halted as he approached the lady, and let his extended 
 hand fall in a helpless way, as if embarrassed. 
 
 "Excuse me," he said :" you are very charming the 
 weather is, I mean hum haw I ask your pardon " 
 
 The mimicry of their late visitor was so good that Irene 
 exclaimed with delight, and her sister laughed even while
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. IOI 
 
 she colored afresh. But at this moment Gen. Buttolph re- 
 turned to the room, and, after saluting Mr. Fanthorp, began, 
 instead of sitting down, to walk to and fro across the room 
 in a restless way. Possibly Mr. Fanthorp may have observed 
 that the general glanced covertly at his watch once or twice, 
 as the lively conversation went on, for he soon after bade 
 them good-night, and withdrew ; and Mr. Venable followed 
 his example, but not to sleep.
 
 IO2 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. EZRA MICAJAH PARSONS BEGINS TO EXPLAIN HIS IDEAS 
 TO MR. VENABLE. 
 
 I AM glad to see you," Mr. Ezra Micajah Parsons said 
 to Mr. Venable, as that gentleman stepped upon the 
 veranda of his house the morning after the events last re- 
 corded. " Walk in. How are you ? Because I wanted to 
 explain to you," his host proceeded rapidly and without 
 further salutation, " my plan for the conversion of the Catho- 
 lics of America. It is," he added, " like Columbus and his 
 egg : nothing can be simpler when stated. All I ask is your 
 attention ; " and he arose, and stepped to a blackboard which 
 took up one side of the room into which they had entered. 
 
 Mr. Parsons was long and lank and lean to a remarkable 
 degree, reminding one of a greyhound even in the length of 
 his nose. What little hair he had was white and disordered, 
 the temples deeply sunken, as were his eyes, the forehead 
 narrow but unusually high. His clothes were shabby and 
 ill-fitting ; and he had forgotten, in his haste, to take off the 
 well-worn felt hat which he had merely knocked up from off 
 his brow as he took a lump of chalk in his hand, the bared 
 wrist adding to the appearance of unusual length in hand 
 and fingers. Had his visitor known that his eccentric host 
 was to rank, in the end, as one of the most successful invent- 
 ors of the day, he would have listened to him more atten- 
 tively. At that date, however, he, like every one else,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. IO3 
 
 regarded him as the most complete specimen he had ever 
 met of a visionary ; merely a masculine variety upon Mrs. 
 Chaffingsby. Not an inhabitant of St. Jerome but knew him 
 to be the most generous of men, as well as the most earnest 
 of Christians : yet they were as unanimous in despairing 
 of and laughing at him then as they were in forgetting and 
 denying that they had ever done so, when his name had 
 become a household word, and his income had reached a 
 hundred thousand a year. 
 
 " We will suppose," said Mr. Parsons, " that there are five 
 million Catholics in America," and he dashed down the 
 numerals upon the board. "These have" and three 
 million was rapidly inscribed " that many children ! Very 
 well. Now, a book for each child will cost twenty cents " 
 
 Mr. Venable was far from being in a mood for Mr. Par- 
 sons ; would not have come, in fact, if he had not engaged 
 to do so. Being there, he gave himself up to the occasion, 
 if only to escape from his own thoughts, and interrupted the 
 other. 
 
 " I beg your pardon : a book? " 
 
 " Certainly. A book," the other replied, " containing the 
 essential facts of history and the gospel, in the largest and 
 clearest type, printed on linen so that they cannot be torn, 
 brimful of pictures, strongly bound, with attractive covers. 
 The children and parents will be as greedy for them as for 
 cakes. Three million children at twenty cents each, sixty 
 million cents," working it out on the board, " six hundred 
 thousand dollars ; say a million of dollars. Do you suppose 
 that a single child so supplied would grow up a Catholic ? 
 In fifteen years if you hesitate, say thirty years Roman- 
 ism would have become extinct, and at an expense of two 
 or three millions at the outside. Could money be better 
 invested? Surely the combined Christianity of the land 
 could easily raise the means." 
 
 "Are you in serious earnest?" Mr. Venable asked.
 
 IO4 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Certainly I am. Why not?" the other replied, turning 
 with amazement, and without a particle of hesitation in his 
 manner. " Surely it would be worth the money." 
 
 " My dear sir," his visitor said, " do you suppose the 
 priests would allow it?" 
 
 " But if you gave the children the books, attractive books, 
 mind, and gave them ; " yet, as the other said it, he faltered, 
 his eyes clouded, the chalk fell from his hand. It was but 
 one of a hundred schemes, most of them worked out in 
 accurate diagrams and conclusive numerals upon the same 
 board, the feasible part of which was seen by him so vividly 
 as to dazzle his mind to all the rest. 
 
 " Won't you allow me to see your place ? " Mr. Venable 
 hastened to say. " I have heard so much of it, and it is too 
 fine a day to stay in doors." 
 
 " I'm not satisfied about that matter. Never mind, we'll 
 talk of it again," said Mr. Parsons. " Come along. You 
 are too abrupt in your contradictions for so young a man. 
 However ! That is my fig-orchard," he added as they 
 walked rapidly out into the grounds. " The trees are ban- 
 daged in straw for fear of a -norther. Those are my oranges. 
 Yonder are the lemons. Wait a few weeks if you would see 
 my place in its glory." 
 
 " And what is all this ? " his friend asked as they passed an 
 enormous iron kettle, surrounded by empty hogsheads and 
 the wrecks of machinery. 
 
 "That was one of my ideas," Mr. Parsons explained, but 
 without pausing. " Just then I was full of hydraulic pressure. 
 I would put in water, half a hogshead of sugar, and a cart- 
 load of fruit, figs say, into the kettle. Then, while hot, I 
 would press the preserves into ten-pound canisters made 
 very strong for the purpose. But I learned better. I never 
 drop an idea except for a better one never ! So about 
 those Papists. I'll pass the children, and aim for the priests. 
 This is my banana-grove, under all these bundles of sacking.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 10$ 
 
 It is against the storm of the Last Day, that the Great 
 Husbandman wraps up our bodies under seas and mountains. 
 Would you like me to explain it all to you? " 
 
 " Certainly. I will gladly listen," the other replied, won- 
 dering at an explanation of the resurrection from such a 
 theologian. He stopped while his host cut a twig off a 
 neighboring tree, and split it open, saying, 
 
 "This is an almond-tree. Do you see how large the pith 
 of the switch is ? It is because the almond is a peach all 
 run to stone. Now, if I take out this pith, and graft the 
 twig, the fruit will lose the stone in favor of the pulp. You 
 can do almost any thing with every thing. If you plan and 
 think, and, as fast as you drop one thing, seize upon another. 
 What I want to say is this : The world is changing. In the 
 direction of condensing. All- work is done now in a hun- 
 dredth part of the time by machinery. People have stopped 
 writing long letters. You flash all you have to say con- 
 densed into one line, and by lightning. If I had an absent 
 son, do you suppose I would write him pages of advice? 
 Not at all. I would simply refer him to a chapter of the 
 New Testament for his theory, and to the proverbs of Solo- 
 mon for his practice. Even lovers write no poetry, nor any 
 other stuff and nonsense, now. They condense all they 
 have to say, I suppose, into a kiss ; that is, when they can 
 get time to meet a moment. Time was when people would 
 sit down at a table, and spend hours at a meal. Napoleon 
 never took over twenty minutes to dinner : / am through 
 in fifteen. People have almost lost the faculty of fooling 
 away their time. That's past. Let me show you ; " and 
 Mr. Parsons walked rapidly away, followed by his friend, 
 to a sort of warehouse in one corner of his grounds. In 
 the centre was a baker's oven, while all around were tables, 
 and heaps of small boxes. 
 
 " We have stopped our works to see how we will sell," he 
 said ; " but no sane man can doubt the result in this case.
 
 IO6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 What do you suppose that is? " taking up, as he spoke, what 
 seemed to be a cracker, from a small pan on the table. 
 
 " A soda-cracker, of course," the other replied. 
 
 " No, sir. That is a spring chicken ! One chicken to a 
 cracker, as you call it ; exactly twelve chickens to a pan. I 
 boil the chicken in a vacuum, on the other side of the 
 house, extract every atom of bone and fibre, leaving the 
 essential chicken itself. The superfluous water is expelled 
 by baking in a pan. What is left is intensely and exclusively 
 chicken. Drop that cracker into a pot of boiling water, and 
 it makes strong soup. And what do you think that is?" 
 passing to another and larger set of pans, and taking up an- 
 other fragment. " Bite it, and see. That is a turkey ; a 
 whole drove of turkeys in those pans. Now, what do you 
 suppose is in this box? " Mr. Venable shook his head, with 
 inquiring eyes. " A calf, and a fat one. In this larger box, 
 all in cakes to be handy for use, is a beef. A pig is some- 
 how as hard to catch," Mr. Parsons continued, " when dead 
 as alive ; but we have penned up, oily as they are, a whole 
 barnyard of pigs in those boxes. I am the original inventor 
 of Focussed Flesh ; remember that ! In a few years the 
 armies and especially the navies of the world will be fed up- 
 on my food. It will be by reason of my invention that the 
 North Pole and the South will be discovered. Why, sir, one 
 small ship can carry in its hold, thus, whole herds of cattle 
 as well as vast fields of vegetables." 
 
 Mr. Parsons straightened himself up as he said it, pushing 
 back his shabby old hat from his forehead, his restless gray 
 eyes fastened keenly upon the other from their sunken 
 sockets. 
 
 " I am on the right track only," he added, " after 
 years of experiment. Have merely begun. I intend, if I 
 don't break all to pieces, to condense every thing that peo- 
 ple use. I mean to put a potato into a pill-box, a pumpkin 
 into a tablespoon, the biggest sort of a watermelon into a
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. IO/ 
 
 saucer. Every thing hermetically sealed, of course. The 
 Turks make acres of roses into attar of roses. I'm told you 
 can put all the rose-fields of Syria into a demijohn. I intend 
 to make attar of every thing ! flowers of every sort, fish, 
 vegetables. The day will come when a distiller will have 
 learned from me to put a whole vineyard into one barrel. 
 Look at nitro-glycerine. There you have tons of powder 
 concentrated into an ounce. Eh? Why not? What do 
 you think of it?" he demanded, as sharply excited, in his 
 way, as was Mrs. Chaffingsby in hers ; and for half an 
 hour he continued to the same effect. 
 
 " It is all new to me," Mr. Venable said modestly, at last ; 
 " but an idea has occurred to me." 
 
 " Let's have it," interrupted the other, " I'm steel. You 
 may be flint. Out with your spark, if it ts only a spark." 
 
 " I have to keep up with the news," his visitor said, enter- 
 ing into the mood of his host, " but I have no time to read 
 a daily through. In order to get to my studies as soon as 
 possible, I have formed the habit of running my eye down 
 the head-lines, merely down the middle of each column at 
 that. Now, how would it do, Mr. Parsons, to publish a 
 daily of the size of your hand, head-lines and nothing else ? 
 If you please, let us go to your blackboard, and I will ex- 
 plain. I do believe," he laughed to himself as he walked to 
 the house, followed by his host, " that his mania is as catch- 
 ing as yellow- fever." And, arrived at the room in question, 
 he laid aside his hat, rolled up his sleeves, wiped the Catho- 
 lics out of existence from the board, and said to his host, 
 
 "Your idea, Mr. Parsons, is condensation. When you 
 feed a man, you intend leaving all unnecessary portions of 
 his food in the slaughter-yard. Now, the details of the daily 
 news are utterly unnecessary. It is like giving a man, with 
 his steak, the horns, hide, and hoofs of the ox. With many 
 sorts of news it is worse : it is as if you heaped his plate 
 with the disgusting blood and bowels of his beef or pork.
 
 IO8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Now, let us imagine a daily for the Union. No ; call your 
 daily ' The Globe,' and mean it. Let it give to-day all of 
 yesterday's intelligence of and for the universe. The cables 
 will enable it to do that. But, condensed. Allow me to 
 illustrate ; " and, half in jest, he made out a column of his 
 daily, beginning at the top of the blackboard, and defining 
 the proposed page with bold lines upon every side, as 
 follows : 
 
 THE GLOBE. 
 
 947 fires yesterday : accidental, 490 ; incendiary, 457. 
 Defaulters, 500: $2396,072 stolen; 200 arrested. 
 Suicides, 450: love the cause, 156; rum, 294, 
 Failures, 323: assets, $8,956372; liabilities, $20,746,932. 
 Murders, 504: money the cause, 102; rum, 402; caught, 
 
 75; proved, 49; hung, 3. 
 People baptized, 7,800; disciplined, 176. 
 Marriages, 6,000; average age, 29. 
 Books published yesterday, 780. 
 Births in the world, 897^51. 
 Deaths in the world, 702345. 
 Speeches made, 487: good ones, 80; bad, 407. 
 The joke of the world yesterday. 
 
 "By that last item," Mr. Venable explained, "I mean 
 that the very cream of the fun of the planet during the day 
 before should be concentrated into a line or two. The 
 paper might have a dozen microscopic illustrations, too, 
 photographs of actual scenes, or of the leading character of 
 the day to be looked at through a magnifying-glass. Ex- 
 cuse me," he added, laying down the chalk, brushing off his 
 hands, and seating himself with a smile, " but I believe 
 some day it will be done. If they were to apply the same 
 condensation to encyclopaedias and systems of theology, what
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. IOQ 
 
 a blessing," he added, "it would be ! Why, sir, the poetry of 
 the race is tremendous in quantity, but all the lines in it 
 men care for are less than are the grains to the wheat-field. 
 When your vessel sailed to the Pole, it could carry the litera- 
 ture of the world in one bookcase, if it was duly concen- 
 trated. The ship might be locked up in the ice for twenty 
 years, and have all the civilization as well as the food of the 
 world in its hold, and plenty to spare." 
 
 " I don't know," Mr. Parsons said, " whether you are 
 joking or not. A young man ought to be very careful. 
 Begin," he added somewhat dryly, " by condensing your 
 sermons, Mr. Venable, as also your remarks in prayer- 
 meeting. Although," he said after a while, "there may be 
 something in your reckless suggestions." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," the other replied, badly hurt, but put- 
 ting a smiling face upon it, for he was a thoroughly sensible 
 fellow. " You know I'm in the period of mere bloom yet, 
 like a peach-tree. I hope I will condense into fruit some 
 day. Besides, you know how it is about Mr. Phip Quatty 
 on Wednesday nights." 
 
 "He is undoubtedly the best man," Mr. Parsons inter- 
 jected, " and the biggest fool, I ever knew." At which the 
 other could not keep from laughing. Only the day before, 
 Mr. Quatty had said the same of Mr. Parsons ; for, of all 
 people alive, peculiar people are the most impatient of the 
 peculiarities of others. " Who wants to be told over and 
 over and yet over again," Mr. Parsons continued, " by Mr. 
 Quatty, that he was once an oysterman, and that the re- 
 ligious stranger said to him as he was dredging for oysters 
 what was it ? " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Parsons," the young minister said, with a 
 laugh, " you have heard him so often, too ! Gen. Buttolph in- 
 sisted upon my taking up a great deal of the time at prayer- 
 meeting, so as to afford Mr. Quatty less chance to speak. 
 You know how you all rise and pray or sing or speak as 
 rapidly as possible, before he can slip in "
 
 IIO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 At this moment, however, a bell was heard to ring ; and, 
 with the sound, a lovely little girl of six years of age ran in, 
 seized upon Mr. Parsons by his long legs, and endeavored 
 to drag him away. 
 
 " Come to dinner, Ezra Micajah Papa," she said. " We've 
 got a puddin' because Mr. Venable is here. Make haste, 
 ma said, or she'd eat it all up." And their visitor did not 
 wonder at the sudden change in the lank and dry old man 
 as he took the laughing little Hebe into his arms. 
 
 "This is our little Alice," he said, evidently with a great 
 deal more pride than in his inventions. " Our only one, 
 our owny, owny one ; " and he rubbed his sallow face against 
 the fat and blooming cheek, while she laughed yet louder, 
 tumbling his scanty hair about with her dumpling fingers. 
 "And this is my second wife," he added, introducing his 
 friend to a round and rosy-faced lady at the end of the table, 
 after they had gone into the house and had sat down to 
 dinner. 
 
 " Why will you always say I am your second wife ? " the 
 lady inquired laughingly, after the little girl had been ad- 
 justed in her high-chair, and blessing had been asked. 
 
 " Oh ! I am such a dry old stick," he said, as he proceeded 
 to help Mr. Venable to soup. " I don't want people to think 
 that you are old, Ally." 
 
 "There is small fear of that," their guest remarked, and 
 very sincerely ; for the wife was full twenty years the younger, 
 still younger than that, in virtue of her particularly jovial 
 appearance. 
 
 " I wouldn't do it, sir," she remonstrated with Mr. Ven- 
 able, as the host held out the plate of soup. " I know it is 
 polite in you, but I wouldn't ! " 
 
 " It is a fat hen which I condensed with my own hands 
 not three months ago," Mr. Parsons persisted. " Put in 
 plenty of pepper and salt and butter, sir, and I know you 
 will like it. I always eat it ; more nutritive food never was 
 eaten."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. Ill 
 
 "It may be nourishing," Mrs. Parsons said, "but it is 
 musty, Ezra : all the pepper and salt on the table can't hide 
 that. Our little Owny here and I never touch it ; " and the 
 lady made a face, with a comical shudder of her plump 
 shoulders. " We don't believe in his inventions, sir, not 
 one bit. Don't do it, Mr. Venable ! " 
 
 But he did. The soup was, he said, after tasting it. 
 " good soup, excellent soup." He " had never eaten better 
 soup." The fact, however, was, that he " never was partic- 
 ularly partial to chicken-soup." It was " always prepared 
 for sick people " where he had lived before. Notwithstand- 
 ing which, and in deference to the inventor, he finished the 
 bountiful plate, under the merry eyes of mother and daugh- 
 er. There was nothing wrong about the article, except a 
 hazy sort of doubt which seemed to rest, like a fog, upon 
 the taste thereof. It seemed to be a small matter, partaking 
 of the article when he would have much rather not ; but it 
 was good practice at what he knew must be the habit of his 
 life, and that was never to allow what he personally liked or 
 disliked to enter at all into the question of what he had to 
 do. 
 
 " My husband is forever inventing," his wife added when 
 the soup had been removed. " We have a table, the rim of 
 which is as broad as a plate, and is fixed, while all the rest 
 revolves. The dishes are placed on the central part, you 
 observe, and go around at a push to whoever wants them. 
 You have no idea, sir, the expense he went to in making 
 and patenting it in time for our wedding. I had a good 
 cry over it. There was a large company, and he had 
 forgotten that you could not use a tablecloth on such a 
 thing. I was too afraid of him then to say one word : I 
 could only cry." 
 
 It was plain that the lady had lost her terror since then ; 
 for she kept up a laughing attack on her husband during 
 the whole meal, warning her guest energetically against the
 
 112 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 hydraulic pressed preserves when they came on with the 
 prophesied pudding. Mr. Parsons was used to the ridicule, 
 and ate steadily and somewhat enormously, his long body 
 bowed down over his plate, leaving the entertainment of his 
 friend to his wife. It was very plain, however, to Mr. Ven- 
 able, that any one else would laugh at the inventor at their 
 peril if she was to know of it. Under all her merriment he 
 saw with pleasure the devoted love of the mother, as well as 
 of fat little Owny as they called her, for the gaunt old man. 
 
 "Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Venable," she said as 
 they rose from table : " I do not believe in his inventions, 
 at least," she added, with an arch look at her husband, 
 " not very much, but I do believe in his motives. Mr. 
 Parsons has no wish to make money, except to do good with 
 it. He knows that very much is needed for Christian work ; 
 and he is anxious to make, if he can, millions for that. I 
 don't think, myself, he will do any thing but lose ; but I am 
 only a woman, and I don't know. There's his terraqueous 
 machine, for instance. Owny and I don't believe in it, not 
 a mite ; but we do believe in Ezra Micajah Papa, yes, we do 
 believe in him with all our hearts," and she looked lovingly 
 at him as she said it. "Take warning, Mr. Venable," she 
 called after him as they left the room, " don't ride in it if he 
 asks you. Beware ! " The guest had thrown himself as 
 far as he could into the occasion ; but the merry eyes and 
 words and ringing laughter of Mrs. Parsons, as well as of 
 Owny who was her duplicate in miniature, were the most 
 delightful part of it all. It may have been the contrast of 
 the mother and her child to the rapid and dry old man and 
 his exceedingly dry desiccations in the warehouse ; but their 
 visitor had never met any persons, who, in a purely flesh- 
 and-blood way, seemed quite so full of the life and health 
 and abounding joy of mere existence. 
 
 " I always take one hour after dinner," the lady said, 
 following him to the door, "of good sleep. Mr. Parsons
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 113 
 
 never does. He condenses his sleep, he says, into his six 
 hours of that much the sounder sleep at night. But he does 
 as he pleases, and lets me do as / please. Good-by, Mr. 
 Venable ; but remember, as you value your life, don't prom- 
 ise to go in his machine ! "
 
 114 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WE CONTINUE OUR ACQUAINTANCE WITH MR. EZRA MICAJAH 
 PARSONS, AND HIS OWNY. 
 
 NO man respects women more than I do," the inventor 
 remarked, as he led his guest from the dinner-table 
 towards the building on the other side of his place, which 
 held the terraqueous machine ; " but no woman since crea- 
 tion ever invented any thing, and no female ever will. You 
 have read of Palissy the potter. His wonderful discoveries 
 were made after years of agony from the opposition of his 
 wife. Mrs. Parsons is very different ; but, being a woman, 
 she can't appreciate such things." 
 
 Mr. Venable had lifted little Owny from her high-chair 
 at the dinner-table when he arose ; and it was under cover of 
 such a shield upon his bosom as he walked that he replied, 
 exhilarated by the mirth of Mrs. Parsons as well as by a 
 hearty dinner, 
 
 " That is what Mrs. Chaffingsby says of those who criticise 
 her paintings, Mr. Parsons. She told me that it only awak- 
 ened her pity. ' I feel,' she said when I was at her house, 
 ' as a soaring angel feels if one of us could criticise its 
 seraphic song. It would merely smile and sing. I often 
 hear of their remarks,' she told me ; 'and I simply pity them, 
 and continue to paint.' " Mr. Venable would not have had 
 such a sparkle of malicious fun in his eyes if he had known 
 how hard he hit the lean, nervous, and excitable old in- 
 ventor.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 115 
 
 " Fiddlesticks, stuff, and nonsense ! " he said, and vehe- 
 mently. " I see that her husband has told her what I said 
 the day we sailed to take our last soundings off Hacamac. 
 She is crazy. Painting? pot-pie ! " he added, with that nau- 
 sea of disgust at the eccentricity of the lady which only one 
 who is himself eccentric could feel. " I have no time for 
 such folly. What I wished to say, Mr. Venable, was in ref- 
 erence to yourself. It is a critical time with you, sir," he 
 began ; and his guest saw that his host was irritated by what 
 he had said, into speaking even more concisely than he had 
 intended. " You see what a plain-spoken man I am," he 
 went on. " In my inventions I succeed solely as I get at 
 the exact facts of the thing. As sure as there is the least 
 lie in my plans, whatever it is, the machine will not work : 
 it hitches it, and drags it, and breaks every thing to pieces, 
 that lie does. You are very young, Mr. Venable, and 
 flowery. We all know that you are perfectly sincere. But 
 you know nothing except books. I had not supposed that 
 even a girl could be so ignorant of human nature. You 
 mean well ; but you are not driving direct at any special 
 thing or person in your preaching. What is the good of 
 rambling over all creation, telling us about the blossoms, 
 the brooks, the clouds, and the stars ? It is a variety upon 
 Dr. Burrows ; but people cannot live on flowers. As sure as 
 you live, you must come down to pork and greens. People 
 must be fed. The sin and strain and suffering of life are 
 steady and severe, and we must have food. And you must 
 condense your food for us into enough on Sunday to last us 
 through the week. You must excuse me ; but I am an old 
 man, and I try to be as practical with myself as the cogs 
 and shafts of a mill. Give us what we need ! " 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Parsons," his companion said. " I am 
 obliged to you. But you mentioned Dr. Burrows. What, 
 between us, was the matter? " 
 
 " Yellow-fever. It was that which killed him."
 
 Il6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Why, he is living at Chemaraw," began the other. 
 
 "The Chemaraw people called him, because the St. 
 Jerome people let him go," Mr. Parsons explained. " You 
 have heard about the rivalry of the places before this. Both 
 towns, by the by, are humbugs ; and Hacamac, as I've told 
 you, is the only true site for a city in all this region. But, if 
 ever a man was killed dead by the yellow-fever, Dr. Burrows 
 is that man. He fled when the fever came ; and we had no 
 use for him after that. Never mind him now. I am too 
 busy to see you often, and I wanted to say this. We all 
 like you ; but the tide is sure to turn." 
 
 " Excuse me," the other asked, with a sudden sinking at 
 heart. 
 
 " The people went almost crazy about you at first," his dry 
 old host continued, as they walked slowly along. " I never 
 heard Miss Aurelia Jones quite so ardent in her praises be- 
 fore. The trouble about her is, that she is always in a blaze. 
 She is not content with being a sincere and active Christian : 
 there must be the blast and crackle and flames of a confla- 
 gration, or she thinks the last spark has gone out. I like en- 
 thusiasm ; but there is something too hot, too fierce, in such 
 piety. There is too much fever in it for health : you feel 
 all along that there is a strain the machinery cannot stand. 
 Action is measured by re-action ; and Paul says, ' Let your 
 moderation be known to all men.' There is too much of 
 the mere woman in her religion ; and in Christ there is nei- 
 ther male nor female. But she is only a specimen. Now, 
 in good earnest, Mr. Venable, has she got beyond book- 
 marks yet ? Is it slippers by this time ? Perhaps she has 
 got to a dressing-gown. It may be a horse next. Mind my 
 words, sir, the day will come, when instead of replying to her 
 notes, thanking her a thousand times, as you do now, you 
 will be tempted at least to write back, 'My dear Miss 
 Jones, please don't ! As you love me, I entreat you to let 
 me alone. I am as grateful as a man can be, but would
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1 1/ 
 
 rather not.' Not that she is not" and Mr. Parsons used 
 the highest eulogium current in that region, singular as its 
 form was "a most an excellent woman; only she is too 
 warm and easy with her words, as she is with her tears. But 
 we won't speak of her any more. When you preached about 
 temperance, and Mr. Clarke poured his liquor in the gutter, 
 and you baptized him, it had a wonderful influence. You 
 are sincere : you are in dead earnest, Mr. Venable. But 
 the time of giving you slippers and dressing-gowns will end. 
 Dr. Burrows had his day of that. He was a larger man than 
 you, older, more experienced, very able in argument ; but 
 it all slackened and stopped in regard to him. It will with 
 you. The large majority of our people are substantial and 
 sensible. It is the few fussy ones that make all the enthusi- 
 asm at first, and do all the mischief at last. I wouldn't have 
 any very intimate friends, if I were you. Don't look to, or 
 lean too much upon, Gen. Buttolph. You think he is rich 
 and generous, and has the highest opinion in the world of 
 you. Don't be too certain. There are things you know 
 nothing about yet ; yes, many things, and some very terrible 
 things. And don't be afraid of Commodore Grandheur, nor 
 other people I might tell you about. Up to the moment the 
 crash came, Dr. Burrows was as profoundly ignorant of what 
 everybody else, to the very children, were talking about, as 
 if he were a baby, a great big baby ; for the doctor was 
 double your weight. When the time comes, if it does, and 
 I will let you know, don't stop one instant : go, and go 
 like a shot." 
 
 
 
 " I confess I was not prepared I did not think " 
 said the other, sick to the heart, and endeavoring to hope it 
 was but a part of Mr. Parsons's eccentricity. "What do 
 you advise? You take me by surprise." 
 
 " I am terribly practical, you see," his friend said with a 
 kindly glance at the paling face of his guest, " too much 
 so ; that is, I am more rapid than the rest. I always get to
 
 Il8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 a point on the common road long before other people, 
 always. It is only a question of time. Slow and stupid as 
 people are, they get there too, sooner or later. You are full 
 of hope. I never met a man more ignorant of life, or quite 
 so full of enthusiasm, or blind belief in everybody. And 
 you may have a reserve power in you to drive you over the 
 bar, as the steamboat people say, when the tide leaves you 
 fast in the mud. All I say is, Aim at something ! to con- 
 vert sinners, to help Christians in their daily needs; not 
 merely to instruct a congregation, or to please them. When 
 you let the people out from a sermon, chattering to each 
 other as they go, and delighted with themselves and you, 
 then you may be sure you have done them no good, only 
 harm instead. What you want to do is to make them forget 
 you in your message, and that message will disgust them with 
 themselves. Then never fear any living man or woman. 
 And the only way is, get away from all of us, from yourself 
 especially, by getting nearer to God, and holding tighter to 
 Christ, than you have ever done. Do that, and there is 
 nothing to discourage you. That is all. If there is any 
 thing more to say, when the time comes I will tell you. 
 This is the house where my terraqueous machine is kept. 
 You cannot see it yet, but I am making up a party. When 
 I am ready I'll let you know. If we do not have the grand- 
 est ride over this island ever known, perhaps over more 
 than the island, I am mistaken. My wife won't go, but I 
 intend taking my little Owny here ; " and the old father took 
 the little girl from the arms of Mr. Venable, in which she lay 
 sound asleep, her fat cheeks pillowed in a nest of her own 
 hair upon his bosom. " No one except my sworn work- 
 men," the inventor added, looking at the closely boarded-up 
 building as a miser looks at his chest, " has seen it. The 
 papers have been full of it, but I keep blood-hounds in that 
 stable yonder, especially for reporters : they come prying 
 around, you see, at night. Next to the focussing of flesh,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. I 19 
 
 I consider this the discovery, so far, of my life. In less than 
 a month you shall ride in it yourself. It is the grandest 
 thing " 
 
 " Why, Ezra Micajah Papa ! " exclaimed his small off- 
 spring, wakened up in the transfer from the one gentleman 
 to the other, and specially bright after her nap. " My b'ack 
 rooster c'owed so loud yesterday, I crep' in dare to see how 
 many eggs he laid, crep' in by a itty bitty hole. It's nuffin 
 at last," said the spoiled beauty, in tones caught from her 
 mother : " your 'chine is nuffin at all but one gate, big, 
 old " 
 
 At this juncture, her father pressed his faded cheek upon 
 her rosy mouth, giving his long left hand in farewell to his 
 guest. "Mrs. Chaffingsby?" he added. "Bah! Good-by. 
 Fiddlesticks ! Wait till you have ridden in it. And don't be 
 offended at what I've said," with a cordial squeeze of the 
 hand. " You are more sensible than I thought ; and I am 
 going to aim at the priests. Good-by ! " 
 
 Mr. Venable put a pleasant face upon it, but he felt sore 
 as from a beating. He walked wearily away. The re-action 
 would come, he would brace himself after a day or two, 
 and walk with head more erect, and with firmer step, but 
 not yet. He went to bed early after reaching Gen. But- 
 tolph's, but it was not to sleep. Prayer had no calming in- 
 fluence ; for prayer was being answered in his case, as often 
 happens, by process, by process long and slow and very 
 severe. W T e live as long as God ; and his processes have 
 the imperceptible curve of a circle which encloses eternity. 
 Mr. Venable endeavored, as he lay in bed, to think his af- 
 fairs thoroughly over. 
 
 Two months had passed since he, Hartman Venable, had 
 stepped, so to speak, from the deck of the Nautilus upon that 
 of the First Church of St. Jerome. It was a critical time 
 indeed. He was coming to know that the peril as well as 
 charm of his new home lay in its tropical character. The
 
 I2O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 excess of light and color and life, in sea and sky and luxuri- 
 ant earth, was but a condition of quivering re-action from 
 an equal excess of storm and darkness and danger. He had 
 exulted in the sudden surge, as it were, since he came, of 
 a measure of soul in himself of which he had not hitherto 
 supposed himself possessed. But he was beginning to learn 
 that this electric condition of things was true, in all its de- 
 grees and varieties, of the blood and brain of all others with 
 him on the island. 
 
 " I wonder," he said to himself, waking suddenly out of 
 a light sleep, at last, in the dead hour of the night, " if there 
 is not something almost volcanic in the people as well as in 
 the soil, something feverish, at least spasmodic, and liable 
 to sudden revulsions. Miss Aurelia Jones merely gives her 
 fervor the direction of an effusive piety. I am sincerely 
 grateful to her ; but I do wish, as Mr. Parsons said, that she 
 would not be so generous to me : that embroidered sermon- 
 cover is too fine, for instance. Mr. Parsons, and Mrs. 
 Chaffingsby, not to speak of Mr. Quatty, seem to be under 
 too tense a strain to keep it always up. And so am I. But 
 I don't know, at last. These people have been so for years. 
 Look at the variety of the cactus in every yard and prairie. 
 The queer plants seem like living snakes, almost venomous 
 in their thorns, twisting and writhing themselves as if in 
 convulsions of oddity as well as beauty. They say that three 
 of their purple pears will insure an ague. Their blooms seem 
 poisonous in the splendor of crimson and yellow. Clear 
 Grit, as they call him, does not seem like other children. 
 Look at the lizards flashing about, with preposterous horns 
 on their heads ! The very grass is sharp with spikes ; the 
 odd-looking fish rolled ashore by the waves startling you, if 
 you touch them, with their stings. Then those tarantulas ! 
 who ever dreamed of spiders as big as a saucer, as hairy as 
 a bear, throwing themselves at you with red and clashing 
 jaws ? And the idea of a centipede armed in lapping coats
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 121 
 
 of mail, lovely as a fragment of rainbow, yet gripping your 
 naked foot, and spurting deadly venom into your blood 
 through its legs .' Now, these things have lived here from 
 creation. Mr. Farce Fanthorp has always been a mimic, I 
 suppose. Commodore Grandheur would be a commodore 
 anywhere. And why am I so nervous in regard to Miss 
 Aurelia Jones, Mr. Parsons only said about her what I 
 had already thought, the most fervent soul I ever knew out- 
 side of biography? There are people of marked character 
 everywhere. It is because I have been cooped up in college 
 hitherto, and am green and inexperienced. I think they 
 will find that I can learn," he added coolly. 
 
 But at this point in his midnight reflections Mr. Venable 
 laughed at his accident with the towel. In wiping his face 
 one morning after washing, to his horror something had 
 fastened upon his nose with a sharp pain. Seizing upon 
 and dashing it on the floor, he saw it was a scorpion. A 
 glance was enough to show him that it was an accurately 
 scriptural scorpion, the picture of which he had often shud- 
 dered at in his Bible Dictionary. He blushed now to recall 
 Irene Buttolph's paroxysms of mirth when he had gone down 
 stairs. It was not worse than the sting of a wasp, at last ; 
 and he had arranged the order of his dying words ! 
 
 Another mishap was too bad. A young girl had urged 
 him one day to call and induce her mother to attend 
 church. But the Providence which never sleeps had 
 prompted him to take Mr. Nogens with him. The in- 
 stant they entered the house, they saw their sad mis- 
 take ! The recoil of the slatternly harlot therein from 
 them was as instinctive as theirs from her. Not a word 
 was spoken ; they were not in the door one minute ; but the 
 heart of the young man almost stood still with the extremity 
 of his peril, and then leaped with energetic gratitude at 
 having taken Mr. Nogens with him. He fancied that even 
 the sallow, set face of that officer of his church had taken
 
 122 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 a tinge of green as they walked rapidly away, not daring 
 to glance around for shame. Such a hair-breadth escape 
 surpassed all former experiences. He well knew that one 
 syllable of it, had he in his ignorance been there alone, 
 would have slain him as a minister, on the spot, and forever, 
 and like lightning. 
 
 " How could I tell," he said to Mr. Nogens, in the agony 
 of the moment, " who she was ? She staid behind to con- 
 verse with me after Sunday school. I saw that she was not 
 more than twelve years of age, a singularly intelligent child. 
 She was so deeply interested in the subject of religion, con- 
 versed so earnestly and with such sincerity too, that I never 
 dreamed of of" and it was all he could say. But, to 
 all he said in his excitement, Mr. Nogens replied, " Yes." 
 And the other blessed Mr. Nogens that he was Mr. Nogens ; 
 and, in an incidental way, he silently poured benedictions 
 upon the head of Mrs. Nogens, too, for being so deaf that 
 her husband, even if he had tried ever so hard, could never 
 make her understand about their blunder. 
 
 But at this juncture the fevered mind of the wakeful man 
 as he lay upon his bed chanced, in its tossings and turnings, 
 upon Mrs. Chaffingsby. The instant, however, that he en- 
 tered in imagination her door, the absurd pictures upon the 
 walls were forgotten in the loveliness of Clara Chaffingsby. 
 And so he went over every curl of her hair, every curve of 
 her perfect face, and lay quiet in his restlessness while he 
 gazed again deeper down into her marvellous eyes. But 
 she had scarcely spoken, merely smiled; and he reverted 
 suddenly to Zeo Buttolph, matronly to see at meal-times, 
 low-spoken and quiet. But between her and himself the 
 tall form of Gov. Magruder insisted upon interposing itself. 
 Very well. How beautiful was Clara Chaffingsby ! how 
 brilliant and intellectual and well-read was Irene Buttolph ! 
 And she saw the points of his sermons, saw and appre- 
 ciated his beautiful ideas as swiftly as himself. Not as beau-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 123 
 
 tiful, physically, as Clara; but what a charming frankness, 
 what a bold yet beautiful outspokenness in regard to all that 
 interested him most ! the face of Clara Chaffingsby com- 
 ing and going through it all. But once more Zeo Buttolph 
 came into his thoughts, and came like a Zenobia indeed, 
 came driving like a victorious empress over Irene and 
 Clara and all the world, himself most of all. 
 
 " I will try," he said. " It is desperate odds against the 
 governor and Col. Roland ; but I will try, must try as I must 
 breathe, if the universe is against me." 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Phip Quatty arose, unasked, in his medita- 
 tions, arose tall and sunburned, waved everybody aside, 
 persisted in being heard. Mr. Venable thought of all that 
 took place last Wednesday night at prayer-meeting, and of 
 what was sure to take place next Wednesday evening, 
 thought of it, and laughed aloud ; and as he laughed, young 
 Plenty, to his astonishment, knocked, and came in with his 
 coffee hot and fragrant, the stalwart black man so much 
 too big for a task such as that. It was time to get up.
 
 124 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MR. PHIP QUATTY FEELS IT TO BE HIS DUTY TO MAKE A 
 FEW REMARKS. 
 
 IT was the Wednesday night following upon Mr. Venable's 
 visit to Mr. Parsons's place. The large and handsomely 
 furnished vestry of the First Church was rapidly filling for 
 prayer-meeting. Before the new pastor came to St. Jerome 
 the people would arrive as it suited them, up to the hour of 
 closing; but their new minister let no man despise his 
 youth in this, that, having given notice to that effect, he 
 began the exercises to the instant, even if Commodore 
 Thomas William Grandheur himself had not as yet come in. 
 This promptness was resented at first ; but when we come to 
 see that an object, a man or any thing else, is iron and oak, 
 we accept and yield to it as such. Mr. Venable had been 
 sorely smitten by the plain talk of the inventor ; it bruised 
 and sickened him to the soul : but it did him good, and he 
 was all the stronger for it. 
 
 " How profoundly ignorant I am of the hearts of these 
 people ! " he could not help saying to himself during the 
 singing of the first hymn. " They seem so kind and polite. 
 They sing heartily, and pray, some of them, fervently ; yet 
 some of these, I know, dislike me. I do not know who 
 they are, how deep their aversion, nor how right, for that 
 matter, they are in it ; nor do I know how active and suc- 
 cessful they may be in disaffecting the rest. I am sorry I
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 125 
 
 came. I am not sorry I came ! My Master placed me 
 here. I dare say it would be the same in every charge. 
 What is the sense of trying to look down into an abyss, trem- 
 bling miserably, and exhausting myself with peering over the 
 edge ? I will do, day by day, the very best I know how, 
 clinging as close as I can to " and his voice rose in the 
 hymn as strong and clear as that of Miss Aurelia Jones her- 
 self. And yet, through all the verses, had his heart put 
 itself into words, the congregation would have been stupe- 
 fied by hearing from him a solo somewhat intermittently to 
 this effect : 
 
 "There is the Commodore. How stout and erect he 
 looks, settled down in his front seat ! With his gold-headed 
 cane between his knees, he fills, with his velvet waistcoat and 
 watch-chain, the channel between me and the people, a 
 sort of dam to check the current from my heart. . . . May 
 God forgive my wandering thoughts ! . . . With what fervor 
 Miss Aurelia Jones sings ! How she fires all around ! Yet 
 how little I know of the instant in which her feelings may 
 be reversed, and pour as ardently against me ! I don't won- 
 der people shrink and smile at each other as they sing. 
 Yonder is Mr. Quatty. We will have to be very prompt to 
 prevent . . . Forgive my foolish fancies, but what a com- 
 fort it is to see Gen. Buttolph in his seat : he is so large and 
 genial and firm ! That is one substantial bulwark of things, 
 at least. No Irene here to-night. Always at church, and 
 appreciating my sermons so. I wish she would come to 
 prayer-meeting, at least now and then. . . . What a regular 
 attendant Miss Zeo is, though I wish she would say more 
 about my sermons than she does ! I wonder why she brings 
 Grit with her : he always goes to sleep. . . . There is old 
 Father Fethero, at last, behind his blue spectacles. What 
 a pity a minister should retire from his ministry into the 
 seclusion of such dismal despondency ! It would have been 
 so much better for him to have gone to heaven. But I dare
 
 126 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 say he would gladly have done so if he could. Father 
 Fethero, will you lead us in prayer?" This last, however, 
 was said aloud. 
 
 Mr. Venable waits patiently as the person called upon 
 coughs in response, slowly draws an enormous silk handker- 
 chief from his pocket, blows his nose, coughs once more, 
 and very deliberately arises. He is an old man : his hair, in 
 which is a dying struggle between the original red and the 
 white of years, is in strong contrast with his large blue spec- 
 tacles, and face furrowed and beaten and burned into a per- 
 manent red by forty years of exposure. He wears a white 
 neckerchief, somewhat yellow and frayed out ; and his black 
 broadcloth is very sleek with wear, and quite shiny, especially 
 at the knees. Whenever his name was mentioned at Gen. 
 Buttolph's, Irene was sure to laugh, and say, " I plainly per- 
 ceive a gloom ! " that being an expression often used by 
 Father Fethero ; all his utterances, in fact, being but varia- 
 tions of that. He had entered upon his training for the 
 ministry, as Mr. Venable had learned, very young, and had 
 taken the complete number of years at college and seminary. 
 No graduate had mastered more laboriously all the Greek, 
 Hebrew, and theology, systematic, exegetic, polemic, patris- 
 tic, didactic, homiletic, hermaneutic, and the rest. Yet 
 Father Fethero had not enjoyed a successful ministry. Peo- 
 ple said he was as good a man as Mr. Nogens, better, if that 
 were possible. No disciple since Paul had labored harder. 
 For many and many a weary year, in the manifold changes 
 of his life, he had ridden through river bottom and cypress 
 swamp ; among the mountains or piney woods, prairies or 
 post-oaks, as the case might be, to his " appointments " at 
 mills and cross-roads, court-houses and school ; experien- 
 cing all weathers and housing, feeding and sleeping, known 
 to men in that western region. The years of hard work, of 
 small pay, of mortifications still more bitter, of little apparent 
 success, which was bitterest of all by far, all this had worn
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. I2/ 
 
 him out. His self-respect had been sorely tried under the 
 heedless heels of man, and for so long. Starting out a 
 learned man, he had been ground through a series of candi- 
 datings for vacant pulpits ; which, like the revolutions of a 
 steel mill, had taken off from him every kernel of originality, 
 as the grain of corn is cut from the cob. Not a gesture, not 
 a tone, not a phrase familiar to his lip and heart, not a kind 
 of argument or form of persuasion, appeal or pathos, in a 
 word, not a peculiarity of the man, even those the most 
 essential to his individuality, but had been hit, and severely, 
 until he had at last given up himself in every point and 
 long ago, as, in every square inch of his person, a dead fail- 
 ure. Although he had been compelled to take in that belief 
 (that unbelief rather) in regard to himself, as by and in and 
 at every pore of his skin, yet, with strange perversity, he could 
 not but feel as if in some dim way, and against all the world, 
 he was at last not as worthless as people supposed. Of his 
 almost desperate desire to do good, he was sure. And ah ! 
 in what agonizing prayer, with strong crying and tears, he 
 had lain whole days of fasting, long nights through of prayer, 
 God knew, and he knew. That was his consolation, that 
 God did know. He had about given up the struggle now. 
 Through his blue spectacles he was looking to another 
 world ; and a goodly part of his anticipations of heaven lay 
 in this, that the Master would there explain to him why, 
 although he had loved that Master so well, and had tried so 
 hard and so long to serve him, such small success had been 
 granted him. And thus he was spending, with a widowed 
 daughter in St. Jerome, the darkening evening of a day which 
 had never been bright. It was by reason of all this that Mr. 
 Venable treated the old man, to the astonishment of St. Jer- 
 ome, which had so long regarded Father Fethero as an object 
 of pitying amusement, with the tenderness of marked respect ; 
 always giving him the first place at prayer-meeting, as every- 
 where else, so far as was possible. It was the harder to do,
 
 128 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 as Father Fethero had been de-educated, so to speak, by the 
 severe stress of his troublous life ; had lost not only his 
 Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, but a correct use of his English 
 as well. 
 
 By reason of Mr. Venable's kindness, the prayer of the old 
 man was not as mournful in its set phrases as it used to be. 
 He stood with his brown and wrinkled hands clasped to- 
 gether, lifted up and being let fall in the swell and subsi- 
 dence of his supplications ; the tears trickling down, as from 
 long use they very easily did, toward the close of his prayer ; 
 conscious, somehow, as he told over the sins and backslid- 
 ings and sorrowful prospects of the world of Christians, and 
 of those of the First Church in particular, that the heart of 
 the minister at least was with his. The prayer was far too 
 long. Mr. Venable winced at the speciality of the petitions, 
 " For this our brother, so young and inexperienced and un- 
 tried of affliction as yet ; " but he imbued, as it were, all 
 present with his own loving respect for the worn veteran. 
 
 " If, now, we can only manage Phip Quatty " That 
 was the thought of the pastor, as well as of every soul pres- 
 ent, when old Father Fethero had safely landed, as was his 
 wont, all there in heaven, and had ended his prayer. That 
 was the hope of even Mr. Quatty himself. 
 
 In that, as in many a church, there were laymen, unedu- 
 cated laymen too, who could speak, and did speak, at meet- 
 ings, with a practical sense and power which made them 
 of invaluable service. Heaven has in too many cases set 
 the seal of its approval to the commission of such, to doubt 
 their right and duty to speak, a seal in many instances of 
 success so broad and clearly cut, that none can hesitate as 
 to whether or no their credentials have issued from the Head 
 of the Church. But Mr. Quatty was, alas ! an exception to 
 this rule. He was no more an Eldad in the camp, or an in- 
 spired Medad, than he was a Moses. He had received, in 
 reference to his speaking, many hints, strong and indignant
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1 29 
 
 remonstrances as well, and had come into the room resolved, 
 as he always was at the outset, not to say a word. But the 
 earnest deprecation of divine judgment on the part of Father 
 Fethero, to say nothing of the singing, had greatly quick- 
 ened him. In fact, Mr. Quatty's solemn promises to his 
 wife on their way to church, in regard to "holding his 
 tongue to-night," were but as those of a man liable to anger 
 in regard to his wrath, or of a drunkard in relation to his 
 temptations. No* one could make a more deliberate, not to 
 say desperate, resolve, than did Mr. Quatty. 
 
 " No, Sally, not one word ! " he said to his wife. " Why, 
 sir," he would often say to Capt. Chaffin or to Mr. Parsons, 
 in reply to stringent suggestions on the part especially of 
 the inventor, " every Wednesday night, before I go to 
 prayer-meeting, I kneel down in my little office there at 
 my livery-stable, and ask God to help me hold my tongue. 
 But the moment I get in the vestry ! I suppose it is the 
 lights, the room being crowded full of people ; but I can- 
 not help it ! Some Scripture is read, somebody makes a 
 remark ; and, if any man would say what I want to have 
 somebody say, do you think I would speak? not a bit of it. 
 No, sir ! It is not that I want to speak, to please myself, 
 you mind. The duty is so plain ! I think of something 
 pat to the purpose. It is something which ought to be said, 
 must be said. It is wicked to leave a thing like that unsaid. 
 Thank God, I've given up swearing ; but this comes to my 
 tongue then, a thousand times more natural than a curse 
 ever did. It's no use : I'd speak if you held a derringer to 
 my head." 
 
 It is the knowledge that Mr. Quatty lurks like a panther 
 in the jungles of the back seats, with ever-increasing eager- 
 ness to speak, ready to spring upon the meeting and destroy 
 it, for that time at least, which gives a certain nervousness 
 to all present. There is no fear until after Mr. Venable has 
 read Scripture, and made his ten minutes of explanation
 
 I3O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 and application. And they are safe during the hymn that 
 follows. But the last verse is sung with apprehension ; and 
 there is a moment of relief as Capt. Chaffin, on the occa- 
 sion of which we are speaking, says, " Let us pray," before 
 the last line is well ended. The chorister, who is also the 
 organist on Sundays, is ordinarily somewhat stolid. But he 
 has been reminded and urged, too often to fail ; and, with 
 Capt. Chaffin's " Amen," he strikes a chord upon the melo- 
 deon, and all are safely launched into anSther hymn. The 
 only thing the people can blame Mr. Nogens for is, that, 
 knowing so well the circumstances of the case, he is not 
 more prompt in the prayer he makes next, and which, with 
 small variation, he has made for many years. Then Mr. 
 Clarke, the reformed liquor-seller, is sure to make a few 
 practical remarks, especially upon the danger of intemper- 
 ance. The chorister has his hands on the keys of the in- 
 strument. A familiar note sounds before Mr. Clarke has 
 well done ; and the audience, becoming more interested as 
 the meeting proceeds, are beginning to forget Mr. Quatty 
 behind there. 
 
 The First Church has dozens of men in all degrees of 
 wealth, education, social position, and piety, who are able 
 to take part. They are trained to the emergency ; and now 
 one and then another offers prayer or makes a brief remark. 
 The meeting deepens in interest. Good Mrs. Quatty, an 
 uneducated but sensible woman, tightens her hold upon her 
 husband's arm. For Mr. Quatty is chewing his tobacco 
 now as if it were good ; shifting it from one side to the other 
 of his mouth, instead of letting his quid lie quietly in the 
 corner thereof. He spits more and more energetically and 
 frequently into the spittoon between his legs, shifting his feet 
 and hands. The hour draws near to close. It has been an 
 excellent meeting. Commodore Grandheur is actually rising 
 to sum up, as is his wont, and then make the closing prayer. 
 It is impossible, however, people fear, for a man of his weight
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 13! 
 
 and dignity of bearing to be as rapid as he knows he should 
 be. 
 
 Mr. Venable had observed Mrs. Chaffingsby in a front 
 seat. He had noticed her the more, as she rarely attended ; 
 and he had been struck with this peculiarity in the little, pale- 
 faced woman, that she seemed wholly uninterested in the 
 services. In his solid way, her husband sings, listens, bows 
 motionless during prayer ; but his wife is nervous and rest- 
 less. Mr. Venable is glancing at her while Commodore 
 Grandheur is in the act of rising. As he looks, he sees her 
 suddenly sink in a limp and helpless way into the corner of 
 her seat, her head falling to one side as if she had been 
 struck. But her pastor needs no explanation. Mr. Quatty 
 can hold in no longer. He has broken from his wife's tight- 
 ening hold ; has been deaf to her earnest, " Phip, don't, 
 don't ! " and Commodore Grandheur is constrained to sink, 
 even in the act of his preliminary " ahem," into his seat, for 
 Mr. Quatty has the floor. 
 
 "Excuse me, brethren," he says, plump and positive. 
 " We are about to close, but I cannot refrain from adding a 
 few remarks. As you all may know, I was once an oyster- 
 man. Yes, friends, little as you may think it, I made my 
 living by dredging for oysters. Sometimes for clams. An 
 oysterman ! And if there ever was a cursing and swearing, 
 yes, lying and almost stealing and murdering, scoundrel, 
 your humble speaker was that man ! One day a man hap- 
 pened along. I was an oysterman, remember. He said to 
 me, ' Under all your rough ways I see that you, sir, are a gen- 
 tleman and a scholar.' Which," Mr. Quatty added, as if that 
 were apology enough for speaking, " which," with slow and 
 deep emphasis, " I am not ! " 
 
 It was sad ; for the young people had their heads down 
 upon the pews before them, laughing at the well-known 
 words with which Mr. Quatty always began. Father Fethero 
 had turned his blue spectacles sorrowfully toward the speaker.
 
 132 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Capt. Chaffin was openly fanning his wife, his arm around 
 her drooping form. It was in vain that the chorister had 
 struck a key when the commodore sank back into his seat ; 
 for there was such force in the words, so evidently from 
 the heart, of the tall, brown-visaged, thoroughly in earnest 
 interrupter, that there was nothing to do but to listen. A 
 thunder-storm would have seemed as irresistible ; and the one 
 idea in every mind was, how to get out of the rain as soon 
 as possible. But there is this to be said for honest as well 
 as earnest Mr. Quatty. All his soul lay in the first outgush. 
 The torrent rose rapidly in him, broke over all resolves, and 
 poured itself out over demolished barriers, yet exhausted 
 itself by its violence. The stranger who had so flatteringly 
 entered into conversation with him had been some good 
 Christian, whose acquaintance had resulted in Mr. Quatty's 
 conversion. But somehow the narrator always slackened in 
 speech as he proceeded, rambled more and more wildly, and 
 finally sat down in confusion. Possibly the counter influ- 
 ences without him were too strong, for they were very strong. 
 In any case, the conclusions of Mr. Quatty's remarks were 
 by no means equal to the energy of their beginning. And 
 that was his trouble : having not said, when he tried, all that 
 he intended, there was nothing for him to do but to seize 
 upon the earliest opportunity afterward, or make one, in 
 which to do so. 
 
 " O Phip, Phip, Phip ! " It was all his wife could say, 
 and that was merely a groan, as they walked home. 
 
 "Couldn't help it, Sally," was his only consolation in 
 reply. 
 
 Before pronouncing the benediction, notice was given, on 
 this occasion by the pastor, that " the officers of the church 
 will remain behind for the transaction of important busi- 
 ness ; " and the congregation slowly departs, whispering, 
 laughing, looking with curious eyes at the officials, who 
 group themselves about the pastor.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 133 
 
 " Ahem ! " Commodore Grandheur begins, before the sex- 
 ton can shut the doors upon the retiring people. " Ahem, 
 brethren ! It was at my request the notice was given. You 
 already know what is intended. It is insufferable ! It is 
 disgraceful ! We have endured this thing until we have 
 become the laughing-stock of the world, of the city, I 
 mean. Miserable man ! Wretched creature ! Intolerable 
 nuisance ! As you observe, brethren," the commodore 
 adds, his face pale with rage, grasping his cane as if it were a 
 weapon, " I am perfectly calm. I remember where we are, 
 and am entirely cool. But we cannot stand it ! For one, I 
 will not ! No, sir ! " He addresses himself to Mr. Nogens ; 
 and that official closes his eyes, and purses his lips more and 
 more tightly, his forefinger feeling for the curl on his fore- 
 head to be sure that his wig is safe, as the irate commodore 
 waxes warmer and warmer, until, at the final burst of the 
 other's wrath, his eyes and lips are drawn into knots ; and, 
 when the denunciation is ended, he opens his eyes and 
 mouth again, and says, "Yes." The rest of the officers 
 laugh, and then look grave. 
 
 "What do you propose, sir?" the pastor asks seriously. 
 
 "Propose, sir? I demand the suspension, deposition, ex- 
 pulsion, of the man. Immediately, sir ! Upon the spot, sir ! " 
 The commodore says it angrily, his brown face all aglow in 
 contrast with his white moustache, which bristles with indig- 
 nation. " I do now demand his instant excommunica- 
 tion ! " and the word is emphasized with a thump on the 
 floor with the cane, which startles the sexton in the vesti- 
 bule, yawning, and wishing them to get done. 
 
 Whereupon follows a long discussion, in which amuse- 
 ment mingles on the part of the rest. When the subject is 
 exhausted, Mr. Venable points out that certain forms of 
 church-law have to be followed, and adds, " An idea has 
 occurred to me. If Commodore Grandheur will kindly 
 allow me, I am sure I can arrange the matter "
 
 134 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Sir ! arrange the rpatter ! " The commodore interrupts 
 him and with violence. " What do you mean, sir? Arrange ! 
 I do not understand you, sir ! " 
 
 The old gentleman is greatly excited. The veins upon 
 his forehead are swollen. It is not merely his eyes which 
 seem larger : his whole person has suddenly broadened as 
 well as become taller. There is an uneasy feeling on the 
 air. Here is a declaration of war. Mr. Nogens in his 
 alarm looks, without being addressed, from face to face, 
 and says, " Yes." 
 
 The pastor had never before been spoken to in such 
 tones. On the instant he, too, is angry, enraged, if the 
 truth must be told. The officials wince, and let their eyes 
 fall as they see how livid his face has become. His lips are 
 suddenly so dry that he moistens them with his tongue be- 
 fore he can speak ; his chin works, his hands are clenched. 
 
 "Brethren," he says at last, slowly and distinctly, "I 
 mean no disrespect to any one. Mr. Quatty is a trouble- 
 some man in this one respect. In every other regard he is 
 an excellent man and a devoted Christian. If you will allow 
 me, as I said, to try, I think I can so arrange, yes, arrange 
 it, as that you will have no more trouble. Will you suffer 
 me to try? " 
 
 There is that in the manner which gives force to the 
 words, and the meeting dissolves upon that basis. But as 
 the commodore wheels and departs, more like a squadron 
 than an individual, all feel that war impends indeed. Mr. 
 Quatty may be silenced, but a more determined foe is in 
 the field.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. VENABLE SOARS AMONG THE STARS, WHILE ZEO BUTTOLPH 
 DESCENDS IN QUITE ANOTHER DIRECTION. 
 
 IT is the Sunday afternoon following upon Mr. Quatty's 
 remarks at prayer-meeting. Zeo Buttolph is alone in 
 her room. She has not slept the night before ; and now sits 
 beside her bed, upon which lies an open Bible. She has 
 knelt in prayer, and risen weariedly, and knelt once more to 
 pray more earnestly ; the tears trickling between the hands 
 which are clasped over her face, as she leans her head upon 
 the bedside. At last she gets up, bathes her hands and face 
 slowly, arranges her disordered hair, sits down again, her 
 Bible lying in her lap, her young head bowed down in tired 
 and sorrowful thought. She is dark and grave, but the 
 seriousness of her aspect is full as ever of sweetness. Under 
 the anxiety, there is the calm and the purity of a settled pur- 
 pose ; the shadows resting upon her are no more a part of 
 herself than are those which an overhanging willow casts 
 upon a stream, a portion of the stream. Even as she sits 
 and thinks, her eye falls upon some passage in the open vol- 
 ume, and grows brighter as she reads. She lifts her face, 
 and gazes upon a portrait of her mother, returning steadily 
 its loving look. Some sudden hope slowly illumines her 
 face. It is as if the wind had lifted the willows, letting the 
 sun in upon the pure water ; and it is easy to see that bright- 
 ness is the nature of the woman, shadow only the transient 
 accident.
 
 136 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 The cloud falls again as her sister breaks, laughing, into 
 the room. On the instant you see, that, of the two, the elder 
 is the least like their mother portrayed above them. It is 
 the more singular, as, if you were to see the father and his 
 two daughters together, you would observe that it is the 
 younger who is most like the general also. In some subtle 
 sense, Zeo is most like both father and mother ; and that 
 although the parents have not the least resemblance to each 
 other. 
 
 " Oh, me, I feared so ! " Irene exclaims at sight of her sis- 
 ter, and in tones of vexation. 
 
 " I cannot help it, Irene," the other says gently. " And 
 I am glad you came in," she adds, with the accent of a 
 child. " You are the elder. There are only us two. I do 
 not want to trouble and tire you ; but who else is there? " 
 
 "What good is it? What is the use?" the other adds 
 pettishly. " Two girls like us ! " 
 
 " But it is so bad, so terribly bad " begins Zeo. 
 
 " That's the very reason," her sister breaks in passionately. 
 " If it were not so terrible we might do something. As it is, 
 we can do no more than if we were two flies. What is the 
 use ? I won't think about it at all. Hateful little wretch ! " 
 
 " Grit is your brother, Irene," said the other, lifting her 
 steady eyes to her sister. " Is it his fault, that, when mother 
 died, he was given over to the negroes ? Nothing could be 
 more horrible ; but it is only on the outside. It is as if he 
 had fallen into the mire. But I know he can be made clean 
 again. That is what the Bible is written to tell us about, 
 you know." 
 
 " Such oaths ! " said the other ; " and," with a shudder, 
 " he is like a young fiend when he flies into a passion. But 
 I wouldn't mind it if he were not worse than that. I am 
 astonished, Zeo," with a look of disgust, "that a modest 
 girl like you will allow him to touch you. Loathsome little 
 nuisance ! "
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 137 
 
 " He is my brother," the other replied softly, " and your 
 brother, Irene, our only brother. Mother is dead, and I 
 intend to do all I can." 
 
 " The idea," the other added indignantly, " of your try- 
 ing to teach him music ! To think how I kissed him, and 
 had him in my lap, when I first came home ! Faugh ! If I 
 had known ! And you know all as well as I do, yet you let 
 him sit with his cheek against yours while you try to teach 
 him how to draw. The idea, too, of his learning French ! 
 You ride with him ! I saw how you held his hand when you 
 walked down the steps yesterday, after all that Aunt Plenty 
 told you too. Cah ! " with an expression of deepest aver- 
 sion. "I tell you, Zeo," her sister continued, turning to 
 the mirror, and beginning to take down and brush out her 
 hair, " I can hardly endure to touch you after you have been 
 with him ! " 
 
 " It was not about Theodore I was thinking," began her 
 younger sister. 
 
 "Zeo," broke in the other, whirling herself around, "you 
 must not talk to me about that! I cannot endure it. I 
 will not allow it. Grit is more than enough. So far as the 
 money goes, I will do all I can. I am economizing. There 
 are a hundred things that I need, need badly, and I am 
 doing without until I am positively shabby. What did papa 
 go into sugar-planting for, if it only breaks him? What 
 does he stay in sugar for, if it is only worse year after year? 
 And we are so young, just beginning to enjoy life ! It is 
 too, too bad ! " and her violence changed to passionate 
 weeping. 
 
 "We are doing the best we can, Reny," said the other, 
 after some silence, as quietly as before. " You are helping 
 me, dear. You cannot tell how much we have saved since 
 we came home and found out. Every day, though, I find 
 things are worse than I had supposed. Why, Reny, only 
 yesterday I went to papa, sat down by hiro^vith my sewing,
 
 138 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 told him I could bear any thing : all I wanted was to know. 
 He told me, at last, that if all were sold, this place, the 
 sugar-plantation, and every one of the people too, it 
 would not pay what he owes." 
 
 " Yes ; and one good crop of sugar would more than make 
 it all right ; and you know it, Zeo. What a poor faith you 
 have in God ! " was the reply. 
 
 "I was not thinking about that, Irene," her sister said, 
 " not at all. We are doing all we can. I haven't told you 
 about Mr. Parsons," she added, her face lighting up. "He 
 almost ran over me, he was walking so fast, one day last 
 week. Grit and I were taking a stroll along the beach. He 
 was on his way to Hacamac, his wonderful city that is to 
 be, at the other end of the island. As soon as he saw who 
 it was, he .turned and came back. What an odd, kind-heart- 
 ed old man he is ! He stood there with his hat in his hand, 
 the sea-breeze blowing his hair all about, and said he 
 wanted to tell me that my father was the most awfully 
 swindled man, swindled by the overseer up at the plantation, 
 the most abominably cheated man, even for a sugar-planter. 
 ' And one other thing,' he said, ' I want you to tell your 
 father.' " But here Zeo smiled. 
 
 "Why, what was that?" her sister demanded. 
 
 "'Do you know Farce Fanthorp?'" the other continued. 
 " I said, ' Yes, sir.' ' And what a perfect fool he is ? ' I said 
 nothing to that, and he went on : ' You tell the general from 
 me, that, fool as Farce Fanthorp is, he is the very man for 
 him.' I laughed, and asked him what he meant. 'If I 
 were your father,' he said, ' I would have Fanthorp go up 
 suddenly, he is a splendid lawyer, you know, and take 
 a snap judgment upon that rascally overseer, look over his 
 books, examine into his accounts. Farce Fanthorp is a 
 fool,' he went on to say, ' and as perfect a fool as I know ; 
 but, if he was to take that plantation in hand, he could 
 make it pay. Tall your father that,' he said. And I did tell 
 him," Zeo added, her face all in a glow.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 139 
 
 "What did papa say?" asked her sister, seating herself 
 and greatly interested. 
 
 "He laughed," Zeo replied, "and said he had no doubt 
 Mr. Parsons was right, and he would see Mr. Fanthorp. 
 Papa told me that Mr. Parsons owns the plantation next to 
 his, and has almost ruined it with his experiments ; but when 
 it is not his own business which is concerned, Mr. Parsons 
 has the longest head of any man he knows. But I did not 
 tell papa," Zeo added, " that Mr. Parsons said that he had 
 known a good many sugar-planters, and my father was the 
 laziest as well as the most gentlemanly of them all. ' Your 
 father is so large and heavy,' he explained." 
 
 " Queer old creature ! " Irene exclaimed ; "and was that 
 all he said?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! " Zeo added with a laugh : " he shot off, putting 
 on his hat as he went, only to take it off and come back 
 again. 'The best thing you can do/ he said to me, the 
 wind blowing and the surf rolling so high I could hardly 
 hear him, ' is to marry your sister Irene to Farce Fanthorp.' " 
 Zeo paused a little, maliciously. 
 
 "What an old goose ! " said that sister, blushing. 
 
 " ' Because,' " Zeo continued, "I am only quoting Mr. 
 Parsons, Irene, ' because,' he said, ' Col. Rojand never has 
 married any lady, and never will.' No, hear me out," Zeo 
 persisted; "'and because,' Mr. Parsons went on, 'I do not 
 think she is a suitable match for Mr. Venable.' " And at 
 this point the younger sister laughed merrily, re-acting from 
 her anxiety before. But even as she laughed the young lady 
 colored to think of something the eager old man had said, 
 and which she did not care at all to repeat. It was this : 
 " My dear Miss Buttolph, it is the talk of the island, that 
 Gov. Magruder is desperately in love with you. He is so 
 much in love, that he dares not visit you often. He comes 
 down from his plantation expressly to do so, and then turns 
 and goes back, afraid to call. Now, Old Ugly is a good
 
 I4O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 fellow, but if I were you" At that point, however, Miss 
 Zeo had bid him good-by. 
 
 " Perhaps," Irene continued with disdain, coloring as she 
 spoke, "Mr. Parsons invited you to ride in his machine 
 before he left you." 
 
 " Yes, he did," said the other, reflecting her sister's color 
 in her own face ; " in his terraqueous machine, he called it. 
 He says that Mr. Venable he evidently thinks a great deal 
 of him, dear and you and I, Mr. Fanthorp and Col. 
 Roland, because he is an editor, are about all he intends to 
 have." 
 
 " Catch me ! " the other added contemptuously. " He 
 condenses pigs and cabbages ! They talk of Mr. Quatty 
 and of Mrs. Chaffingsby : he -is the craziest of the three. 
 Wouldn't it be fun, Zeo, to see Mr. Fanthorp take him off? 
 only it is too easily done. And how that laughing young 
 wife of his ever came to marry such a queer old soul, is more 
 than I can understand. What a darling little girl they have, 
 too ! They call her Owny, and she is a perfect beauty. But 
 I must leave you. Marry Mr. Venable, indeed ! " 
 
 "Wait a moment, Reny," her sister said, as the other was 
 going out of the room ; and her whole manner changed as 
 she said it. . 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no, Zeo ! " exclaimed Irene, looking with 
 dismay at her serious aspect. " Don't, don't ! I cannot 
 endure it." 
 
 " Reny, I dare not put any thing in his brandy," Zeo said, 
 rising, and holding her sister firmly by the arm. " A wife 
 might do it, to make him sick and disgusted with it ; but 
 I ought not. Yet something must be done. It is almost 
 every night now. All the negroes know it. O Reny ! it is 
 terrible to see him lying there as if he were dead. And he 
 will die in one of those those He is so heavy, you 
 know ! If I only knew," the poor girl added, her hand upon 
 her head, " what to do ! I cannot find one verse in Scrip-
 
 *A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 14! 
 
 ture as to what a child ought to do when a father does 
 that." 
 
 " Let me go, Zeo ; don't ask me," her sister said, as vio- 
 lent as before. " It makes me desperate. There is nothing 
 we can do. We are only girls / Oh ! what did mamma die 
 for? " and she gave way once more to weeping. She had a 
 full measure of energy, bodily and intellectual, but in emer- 
 gencies it was sure, like other tempests, to spend itself in 
 rain ; abundance of force, but it exhausted itself in tears, 
 and so dissipated itself into the dampened air. Not that 
 her sister did not have her showers also ; but she was unlike 
 Irene in this, that, the more she was aroused and driven 
 toward her highest climax by circumstances, that much the 
 less was she disposed to weeping. We know that Christ wept 
 at Gethsemane ; but there *is no record of a tear when he 
 had reached Calvary. The women wept there ; but would 
 they have wept if they could have done any thing else ? So 
 with Zeo. She had her December rains as well as her April 
 tears ; but her soul allowed to her eyes merely its overflow. 
 Unlike Irene, it was the surplus of her strength that went in 
 that way, leaving the substance of it cleared for use. By the 
 laws of her stronger nature, the more deeply she felt, the 
 more was she impelled to act, not cry. Therefore her eyes 
 were dry as she held Irene firmly, and said, 
 
 " Sister, it is not only about this I wanted to speak : some- 
 thing must and shall be done about " 
 
 Irene lifted her face, pale with the parching of sudden 
 wrath, and said venomously, " Zeo, if that vile animal comes 
 in my reach I will kill her ! " and then gave way, with sobs 
 and ejaculations, to tears, tears, and nothing but copious 
 tears, and so melted into utter weakness and worthlessness 
 for all practical uses. To Zeo, it was like trying to lean 
 upon water. 
 
 It was on this account, that, at midnight of the same Sun- 
 day, the poor girl had no wish for the presence of her sister,
 
 142 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 as, fearing he might die, or she knew not what, she sat 
 beside her father lying upon the sofa in the dining-room, 
 drunk, and dead drunk ! 
 
 Mr. Venable had preached a fine sermon that night, in 
 the hearing of the general and Irene, upon "the sweet 
 influences of the Pleiades ; " proving quite conclusively, that 
 the influences referred to were the attraction which swung 
 the entire universe around a certain star in that constella- 
 tion ; and the discourse was garnished with all that poetry 
 afforded, as well as "science. Miss Irene had expressed 
 herself rapturously about it, as they walked home together. 
 
 " It was excellent, admirable, very good indeed ; did you 
 great credit, sir," the general remarked, when he bade 
 Mr. Venable good-night. " The constellation Pleiades, you 
 said," passing the key of his sideboard from hand to hand, 
 " and Alcyone is the star in it around which we revolve : 
 I must remember it. Excellent, very sublime ! Good-night, 
 good-night ; " and in a short time thereafter his delighted 
 auditor had forgotten every thing in the depths of his drunk- 
 en stupor. 
 
 Usually there was not a more magnificent man to be 
 seen in St. Jerome : now he was only an enormous sot, his 
 large face purple, his clothing all awry, snoring discordantly, 
 an object of disgust amounting to terror. The servants 
 were asleep, only Grit and Zeo in the room. The two had 
 not gone to the night service. Zeo had read to her brother 
 from a Sunday-school book. So far as nine-tenths of the 
 Sunday-school library was concerned, the best celebration 
 for an anniversary would have been a bonfire of the books, 
 with the children rejoicing around. But Zeo had slipped in 
 a good deal here and there, as she read, trying to interest 
 and keep Grit awake. He was at the critical moment when 
 a cherub child becomes a lubberly boy ; and with a woman's 
 keenest instincts, and subtlest devices of love, she was trying 
 to lay her grasp upon the very soul of her brother. He
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 143 
 
 was all she had left. And he was very wide awake now, 
 standing beside Zeo, whose arm was around him as she sat 
 beside her dead father. Dead, because Gen. Buttolph 
 never drank except at home, at night, with the richest and 
 best of liquors in unlimited quantity at hand ; drank with 
 enormous thirst; drank, with the immense inertia of his 
 heavy build, like a mountain sliding into a bottomless sea, 
 purely and exclusively for the drink's sake. Yes : no gentle- 
 man in the city was more sumptuously clad, more regularly 
 in the hands of his barber, more genial, hospitable, liberal ; 
 and there he lay, a huge swine. There he lay, every ounce 
 of his immense weight upon the heart of that one poor girl. 
 And she has, unaided, to lift him in her frail arms back, if 
 it be done at all, to all that he used to be. He has to be 
 held from his downward descent, and lifted, when, by reason 
 of that in him which was worse than drunkenness, she dared 
 not think of her dead mother because of the new horror it 
 awoke in her of the one she had to save. 
 
 While Zeo and her brother kept watch over their father, 
 Mr. Venable, too, was awake up stairs. 
 
 "The church was crowded to-night," he soliloquized. 
 " I am doing a grand work ! Col. Roland asked for a copy 
 of my sermon for his paper ; and, when Miss Aurelia Jones 
 came up to thank me, she burst into tears as she took hold 
 of my hand, and could say nothing at last. But it was all 
 as nothing to me, because she was not there. I did not 
 understand what old Plenty said that morning about her, 
 and I cannot comprehend why she did not go to church to- 
 night. Can it be possible," he asked himself after a while, 
 " that Gov. Magruder was in the city, and spent the evening 
 with her? I never thought that she would entertain com- 
 pany upon Sunday. Perhaps," and the dreadful sugges- 
 tion smote him as worst of all, " perhaps she is sceptical ! " 
 And it was little he slept that night.
 
 144 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. VENABLE BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH MRS. CHAF- 
 FTNGSBY AND HER HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 EARLY the next morning after his wonderful sermon, 
 Mr. Venable set out with Commodore Grandheur, Mr. 
 Nogens, and other gentlemen connected with the First 
 Church, to attend a conference of his denomination, at 
 which would be decided the question of his acceptance of 
 the pastorate of the church. It was a fatiguing journey ; 
 for the conference met at some distance away, at an inland 
 town, and a good part of the travel was upon horseback, to 
 which he was only of late becoming used ; and it was several 
 days after he came back before he felt disposed to much 
 exercise. 
 
 "I landed on this island on the first day of January, 
 and this is nearly the middle of March," he said one after- 
 noon to himself, as he took, at last, a slow walk through the 
 suburbs of St. Jerome. "It seems three years instead. I 
 suppose it is because of my secluded life before ; but it is 
 as if I were living upon a fragment which had been smitten 
 off from the earth, and was revolving more rapidly than the 
 old world. I am so inexperienced, so ardent and impul- 
 sive, the wonderful appetite and health I enjoy, every 
 thing is against me. The days were emptier when I was 
 with men only. I wish I could strike Miss Irene and her 
 lively talk, as well as this beautiful vision at Mrs. Chaf-
 
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 145 
 
 fingsby's, out of my life. I could give myself then more 
 completely to my work. But I cannot wish to strike her out. 
 How absurd and hopeless the idea of my competing with 
 Gov. Magruder ! a David with such a Goliath ! " And he 
 was surprised, as he walked, to find himself at last in front 
 of Mrs. Chaffingsby's house. At the same moment Mrs. 
 Chaffingsby came out of the gate, dressed for walking. 
 
 " Mr. Venable ! " she exclaimed. " Is it possible ! I was 
 hastening to call upon you. There is a divinity in art, or 
 we should not have thus met. It decides me, decides me ! 
 Wait a moment, sir : I wish to recover myself." 
 
 She was dressed in silk, with a good deal of lace and 
 jewelry about her neck. Under her bonnet, which was 
 adorned with artificial flowers, was a halo of small curls of 
 light hair, in which her face was set like that of a doll, rather 
 than even a child. Her eyes were large in proportion, blue 
 and singularly bright. She was in the act of opening her 
 parasol, when she came out ; but folded it now, and con- 
 tinued, after the other had replied- to her salutation, and 
 made all due inquiries in regard to the health of her family, 
 
 " You remember, sir, that, as you left upon your last visit, 
 I was smitten by a sudden inspiration. I have had many ; 
 but this was the first of the kind. You will be astonished, 
 sir ! I venture to hope you will be more astonished than you 
 ever were in your life. My husband is violently opposed to 
 it ; but I have given it, I may say, an agony of consideration. 
 In fact, I may add, I have not eaten with appetite since, or 
 slept. I was hesitating even as I was going out of the gate ; 
 but your presence confirms me." 
 
 " I thank you, madam," the other replied. 
 
 " You cannot thank me until you know," she interrupted 
 him. " Mr. Parsons is an absurd inventor of impracticable 
 machines ; and he," she added, " speaks contemptuously of 
 my art, to my husband, who is associated with him at times. 
 He objects to what I now propose, possibly on the same
 
 146 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 grounds with my husband, that I have confined myself 
 hitherto to prophets, apostles, martyrs, angels, and the like. 
 But I am determined, and since you came, to descend. 
 ' Captain,' I said to my husband, ' I will delineate you as 
 Jonah being hurled overboard.' ' Paint away,' he said. 
 ' But no,' I continued : ' I will paint a gorgeous banqueting- 
 hall, and Gen. Buttolph shall sit to me as Belshazzar.' 
 My husband became alarmed at that. But the inspiration 
 which smote me at the close of your visit was that at which 
 I was aiming ; and all this was but preliminary. When at 
 last I mentioned this my original idea to my husband, he 
 was arranging a compass ; and he dropped and broke it, 
 swearing, I regret to say, at the same time. My husband 
 glories in my art, sir," she said with pride ; " so much so, 
 that, although he had suggested that I should recreate myself 
 upon lesser subjects, he himself shrank when I proposed it." 
 
 " Proposed it? " the other repeated with a sinking heart. 
 
 " Say that this is the wilderness," the artist said, making a 
 circle upon the boards of the gate at which they stood, with 
 the end of her parasol. " There a Sadducee, and it shall 
 be Mr. Parsons ; here a Pharisee ; on this spot, the coarse 
 countenance of an Herodian, and for that I have thought 
 of Mr. Quatty ; here" and she struck the centre of the gate 
 with decision, "John the Baptist shall stand with the skin 
 and leathern girdle ; and," she added, turning upon the 
 other with enthusiasm, "you shall be John the Baptist." 
 
 " Pardon me : you must excuse me," Mr. Venable ex- 
 claimed with energy. 
 
 "You object to assuming so sacred a character? I 
 had thought of that," she said with utter unconsciousness. 
 " Very well. Better still : I like few women, but I do sin- 
 cerely love Miss Zenobia. Abbreviations I abhor, and there- 
 fore will not mention her as Miss Zeo. The theme shall be 
 the meeting of Jacob and Rachel at the well. She will make, 
 with a jar on her head, an admirable Rachel ; and you shall
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 147 
 
 be Jacob, Jacob regarding her with the dawn upon your 
 brow of a passionate love. Not one word," she continued 
 breathlessly, "but please come in while the inspiration is 
 upon me. If you will excuse me, I will hasten to my room, 
 and get on my working apparel : I am not myself without it." 
 
 Mr. Venable had never been more perplexed, but re- 
 solved to escape in some way. He followed her to the 
 door of the house, and lingered there while Mrs. Chaffingsby 
 hurried in and up-stairs. 
 
 As he waited, puzzling his brains as to what to do, her 
 daughter came along the hall within, and stood in the door. 
 He had doubts, afterward, whether she could be as lovely as 
 she had seemed the day he had come suddenly upon her 
 beneath the Syrian Martha portrayed so savagely upon the 
 kitchen walls. The face which smiled upon him as the door 
 opened shamed him for having doubted. He looked stead- 
 ily at the girl, so fair and fresh in the purity of her guileless 
 bearing, in order that he might never waver again as to the 
 possibility of such beauty off of canvas and out of mar- 
 ble. The only idea he had of her dress was that it was 
 largely apron ; and of her hair, that it was not dressed for 
 church, the girl having evidently come from domestic duties. 
 
 " Good-day, sir," she said, at once and without explana- 
 tion : " he is asleep ; " and, although fully sixteen years old, 
 it was somehow merely a child of six who smiled upon 
 him. 
 
 "He? Who is he?" the visitor asked, surprised at her 
 words, and entering, although his invitation to do so lay 
 altogether in the manner of the other, whose wonderful blue 
 eyes were fastened upon his with the full and steady look 
 rather of a babe than of a child. 
 
 " Charlie," she replied. " He is a great deal of trouble ; 
 but he is asleep in his chair. She is painting up-stairs. She 
 is almost always painting. Do you like pictures?" she 
 added, as Mr. Venable seated himself under the flying Judas
 
 148 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 in the parlor. "There are hundreds of people in this 
 house ; up in the attic too. She has put David on the wall 
 of the observatory, where the flagstaff is. He is praying on 
 top of his house, you know. Ananias and Sapphira are 
 falling dead in our cook's room. You know the negroes 
 tell such awful lies ; but Aunt Lucy, our black woman, says 
 she don't care. She is our cook, and sleeps there. She says 
 when the owls cry all night, they say, ' Tu-who, tu-whit, tu-who- 
 cooks-for-you-all ! ' The little maid telling Naaman to go to 
 Elisha is on my wall. Every room is full of them. When- 
 ever I open a door, they all stop throwing their arms about, 
 and talking, until I go out. They stand stock-still, looking 
 at me with their eyes." The young girl had not seated her- 
 self, but stood smiling and looking at her visitor steadily. 
 Whatever loveliness there is of color and curve and tone of 
 voice, possible to one of her sex, were certainly hers. 
 
 " Why, Miss Clara, you are as original as your mother," 
 began Mr. Venable, wondering at her artlessness. At this 
 instant, however, there was a rapid step along the hall, and 
 Mrs. Chaffingsby came into the room in a brown and paint- 
 bespattered dress, a palette in one hand, a brush in the 
 other. There was an expression of terror in her face, as 
 she saw Mr. Venable, that alarmed him. 
 
 She glanced from her visitor to her daughter, her hand 
 upon her heart, evidently much agitated, and then motioned 
 to the door, saying, " Charlie, Charlie ! " as if it were all she 
 could say. 
 
 " Please excuse me, madam," her visitor said, as the girl 
 left the room. "You had said something about some 
 intention. I will call again at another time. Allow me to 
 say," he added, as he opened the door, " that I have rarely 
 seen a young lady so capable of of Pardon me," he 
 continued, " but I would think that, with a thorough educa- 
 tion and travel and society, your daughter will make one of 
 the most char I mean remarkable" He felt, as he
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 149 
 
 spoke, that he had been guilty of some indiscretion. Mrs. 
 Chaffingsby looked at him first in astonishment, then in 
 wrath ; then the poor little woman lifted her palette and brush 
 before her face, and sank upon the sofa in a flood of tears. 
 The next moment the young man found himself, after a hur- 
 ried apology, walking rapidly away from the house, dazed, 
 blaming himself severely, yet amazed as to the meaning of 
 it all. 
 
 " That is what they told us there," he said to himself, of 
 his seminary : " other men may escape, at least for a time ; 
 but the instant a minister sins, that instant he is smitten as 
 by lightning, by lightning accompanied by thunder enough 
 to fasten the attention of the whole world. 
 
 "But what have I done? Can my honest affection for 
 Miss Zeo be a sin for which I am to be punished? And 
 why is she so silent? " and he worried himself as to that and 
 Mrs. Chaffingsby, until he was wearied out, walking along 
 the beach, in deep thought, for miles. 
 
 " What could have possessed Mrs. Chaf " ? He sat down 
 at last, as he said it aloud, and watched the fiddler-crabs 
 scurrying away. Then he got up from the hillock of sand, 
 and stooped over one of the jelly-fishes washed ashore, and 
 turned the transparent mass over and over, wondering how a 
 living creature could exist with nothing resembling an organ 
 of any sort. But it was only after he had tired himself 
 down, and rested as upon the final basis of being the great- 
 est blunderer living, that he turned his feet, in the growing 
 darkness, toward home. The only hope left him was a 
 steady purpose not to stay a fool, if God could show him 
 how. 
 
 That very afternoon, he was being thoroughly discussed 
 by others as well. The commodore had called at Gen. But- 
 tolph's, and had met Miss Aurelia Jones there, who had 
 been unusually fervent in her expressions of regard for their 
 pastor. " Since he is not at home, I will leave a message
 
 I5O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 for him with you," she said to Zeo, after some conversation. 
 " There is a purse," she added, showing it to her, " which 
 I worked with my own hands. It contains a little money. 
 Tell Mr. Venable to apply it to any good cause he may 
 know of. 
 
 " I like him," she added, " not as the people generally do. 
 His sermons are very beautiful. He is faithful and devoted 
 in his visiting among the poor and the sick. Nor is it be- 
 cause of his earnest supplications. It is the unworldliness, 
 the glowing self-devotion, I appreciate ! " and the lady clasped 
 her gloved hands together as she sat, her black eyes suffused 
 with tears, her face overflowing with feeling. " I know you 
 people cannot appreciate such things," she added at last. 
 " I fear you are altogether given up to the world. You will 
 soon sicken of it, as I have done. Zeo is more thoughtful, 
 even if she is so silent " 
 
 "Is it possible, Miss Aurelia, that you do not know?" 
 Irene interrupted her guest. 
 
 " I know that Commodore Grandheur would prefer an 
 older and colder man," the lady continued, not regarding 
 Irene, who had risen, and was standing before her. " You 
 are of a more formal temperament, sir ; you like more argu- 
 ment, more instruction, more deliberate and unimpassioned 
 reasoning. But you are no fair specimen of the mass of 
 our people," added Miss Jones, who did not fear the com- 
 modore at all, and who, in virtue of her wealth and position, 
 never restrained her ardors for any one. "A church is not 
 a man-of-war, commodore, as I have often told you. We 
 are neither the passengers nor the crew of any thing of the 
 kind." 
 
 " Miss Aurelia ! " persisted Irene, stooping, as she stood 
 before her, to touch that lady on the knee, "Miss Aure- 
 lia" 
 
 "I have had but one opinion," said the gentleman ap- 
 pealed to, his two hands upon the top of his cane, which
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 151 
 
 was between his knees as he sat. " Ours is the first church 
 of St. Jerome. Dr. Burrows, whatever his weakness, was a 
 man of great ability. We are not children. Neither are we 
 all ladies. Emotion is unreliable, evanescent, without solid- 
 ity. What we need," and the commodore's voice and man- 
 ner were adjusted to his words, " is a man who is deep, . 
 powerful, experienced, regular, symmetrical. Would you be- 
 lieve, madam, that Mr. Venable almost defends Mr. Quatty 
 in his insane course? " 
 
 " I myself told Mr. Venable all about Mr. Quatty," the 
 lady said earnestly : " what a rough excellence he possesses ; 
 how he never allows a horse or buggy to go out of his stable 
 upon Sunday, except when a steamship arrives, although 
 that is the chief day for beach-driving. He will not let you 
 have any thing, even for a funeral, on Sunday, unless you 
 solemnly promise to return direct from the funeral, and not 
 make a drive of it afterward. There is a sign," added Miss 
 Jones, laughing, " in his stable, with letters six inches long. 
 I did not believe it, and went there and hired a saddle-horse 
 in order to see it myself. There it is. 
 
 No Swearing, Gambling, Bad Talk, nor 
 
 Sabbath-Breaking, in this Concern. 
 
 No sir-ree Bob! 
 
 " Mr. Venable's plan," she added eagerly, " is to engage 
 a public hall for Mr. Quatty, to give notice of it on Sunday, 
 and let the man have a full opportunity to say what he has 
 to say, once for all. I am like our pastor," she added. " I 
 hate formalism, however respectable ; and I do love to see 
 earnest, energetic piety, however homely it may be. I had 
 rather laugh at the one than weep over the other, myself," 
 she concluded.
 
 152 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 It was an old, old quarrel between Miss Aurelia and the 
 commodore, dating from the days of Dr. Burrows, long 
 before Mr. Venable. The two could not agree. And they 
 could no more meet without contest than could ice and fire. 
 As usual, the gentleman was indignant. He stiffened himself 
 as he sat, took fresh hold upon his cane, cleared his throat 
 to reply, but was interrupted. 
 
 " And now please listen to me" Irene said, still standing 
 before her. " Do you know, Miss Aurelia, that Mr. Venable 
 has fallen hopelessly in love? " 
 
 There was something unlike the usual audacity of the 
 young lady, a laugh in her voice, but not in her eyes, as she 
 spoke. 
 
 "Why, what do you mean, you foolish child?" asked the 
 lady addressed, her face turning pale, her lips remaining 
 apart, and as if suddenly dry, after she had spoken. 
 
 " I am not a child, nor foolish," the young woman replied, 
 with some haughtiness, as she drew herself up. " Let me 
 alone, Zeo," to her sister, who had placed herself beside her, 
 a hand upon her arm. " I happen to know that Mr. Vena- 
 ble has a passionate admiration for now, for whom do you 
 suppose?" she added with bitter sarcasm. "For Clara 
 Chaffin, or Chaffingsby, as her mother calls herself ! " and 
 the disgust upon the face of the one speaking was reflected, 
 as soon as the astonishment had passed from their eyes, in 
 the countenances of all present. 
 
 Except Zeo. " It is because he does not know. She is 
 very beautiful, as we all know ; the loveliest creature, poor, 
 poor thing, I ever saw," she said. " He is ardent and 
 impulsive, Miss Jones, very warm-hearted, and full of imagi- 
 nation." And Zeo was astonished at the eagerness of her 
 own tones, as she thus defended the absent. 
 
 " I did not think any human being " began the commo- 
 dore, oblivious to the sudden and unusual earnestness with 
 which Zeo spoke, flushing as she did so, lifting his cane, and
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 153 
 
 letting it come down again with emphasis, in the silence 
 which ensued. But his eye was arrested in the act, by the 
 change in the face of Miss Aurelia, and he paused. She 
 was, as we have said, an eager lady. Her face was a good 
 face, full of kindliness ; the black eyes quick to sympathize 
 beneath their clusters of curls, her manner as effusive as it 
 was ardent. The florid color was gone from her face ; it 
 was drawn and hard ; her eyes had, on the instant, become 
 as cold as those of a statue. At least Zeo was aware, too, 
 that her jewelled hands, lying the moment before open in 
 her lap, had suddenly clinched themselves. Zeo winced in 
 sympathy with a cruel pain, which, she knew not why, had 
 as suddenly wrung the heart of their visitor. All who knew 
 Miss Aurelia, knew that her fervor was the desperate effort 
 of her soul against experiences in her past life ; experiences 
 the bitterest a woman can know. All knew, in a vague way, 
 that this was so ; but none except the One to whom she had 
 fled for help knew how much more deadly than death those 
 agonies had been. The poor lady was almost as much 
 amazed as Zeo was, at the anguish, as from a rude hand 
 upon old scars, which Irene had inflicted. But she said 
 nothing. It was certain that, from that moment, the feelings 
 of the lady were reversed toward Mr. Venable, and as by 
 the shock of an astonishment of which the suddenness 
 equalled the bitterness. Yet it was only those of her own 
 sex present who understood, absurd as it seemed in the case 
 of a lady so much older than Mr. Venable, the secret of it 
 all. And of the two sisters, Zeo alone knew that Miss Aurelia 
 had been as unconscious of her interest in him at least 
 almost as unconscious as any other. 
 
 " I do not wonder so much, at last," Commodore Grand- 
 heur added after some silence ; a revolution taking place in 
 him also, by reason of what he saw in the face of his invaria- 
 ble opponent. " Our pastor is young and ardent. Let me 
 tell you, ladies, I did not intend to mention it," he slowly
 
 154 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 continued, " on our way up country to the conference, at 
 which the call to our church was placed in Mr. Venable's 
 hands, we came, Mr. Venable, three other gentlemen, and 
 myself, to a part of the road which was overflowed from the 
 late heavy rains. We were all on horseback. The bridges 
 were washed away. There happened to be an old canoe on 
 the roadside, but there seemed to be nothing to do but turn 
 back and give up going. In this emergency Mr. Venable 
 took off his outer clothing, and swam his own horse over, all 
 our horses following in a string behind, we ourselves coming 
 after in the canoe with our saddles. He had to swim along 
 the windings of the road a long distance, and against a 
 swift current. What I liked, ladies, was that he asked my 
 opinion before he attempted it ; and that he did it as if 
 it were matter of course. Conference passed a vote of thanks 
 to us, for it was very important we should be there. Mr. 
 Venable," the old man continued slowly, more and more 
 conscious, as he spoke, of the sudden chill in Miss Jones's 
 manner, " is young, quite young. He is excitable, possibly 
 extravagant. But he has noble qualities. Under suitable 
 guidance there is the stuff of a man in him. I am free to 
 say," the speaker continued, drawing, after some search, a 
 document in an official envelope from a breast-pocket, "that 
 I had with me this protest against his settling over the First 
 Church. I intended to urge it upon conference. I did not 
 present it, however. When I left the navy, ladies, I resolved 
 never to use the peculiar dialect of the navy, profane or 
 otherwise. I believe I have kept my resolve. And now," 
 added the commodore, with great self-importance, as he 
 arose, walked to the hearth, and threw the document into the 
 fire, " I have made another resolve. I need not mention it. 
 As Miss Zenobia has observed," he added as he took his 
 leave, " there is really nothing whatever in the matter to 
 which Miss Irene has alluded, nothing whatever. We are
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 155 
 
 agreed not to speak of it ; " and with special courtesy toward 
 Miss Jones, he departed. Miss Aurelia left soon after. 
 
 " There is the money I spoke of for your guest," she said 
 to Zeo as she emptied the coins out of the purse upon the 
 mantle, and replaced it in her pocket. " Tell him it is for 
 the miserable." 
 
 Her tones were as metallic as the sound of the gold upon 
 the marble ; and the tears came into Zeo's eyes in sympathy 
 with those, so much more bitter, which remained unshed in 
 the heart of the other as she took her leave. 
 
 To the commodore, as to Miss Aurelia, the First Church 
 was the one object in life, neither having any other employ- 
 ment. By the habit of years, the change in the lady neces- 
 sitated a change toward Mr. Venable in the other ; and, for 
 every reason, he was glad to make it. But the change in 
 her was not to be measured by his, nor by any masculine 
 measure whatever. 
 
 " Irene," Zeo said as soon as the company was gone, but 
 with evident reluctance and not looking at her, " who told 
 you that about Mr. Venable ? " 
 
 " Nobody ! There was not a word of truth in it," her sister 
 said defiantly. " He told me that the poor girl was so beau- 
 tiful, he wondered her mother did not make her a model, 
 and persisted in changing the subject : that was all." 
 
 " O sister, how could you " 
 
 " Hush, Zeo ! I only did it to tease that poor, or rather, 
 that rich, old maid. Who," demanded Irene, " could have 
 thought it would have hurt her so? But I don't care. 
 No, hush ! I won't listen to you ! I get so desperate over 
 our troubles, I don't care what I do. It is none of your 
 business. Yes," she added rapidly, and somewhat bitterly, 
 "it is your business. You poor little thing, he is in love 
 with you / Blushing, are you ? Yes, you know he is ! A 
 clergyman should have more self-control when you are in
 
 156 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the room I won't stop ! While he is pretending to listen 
 to me, he is devouring you, miss, with his fine eyes ; and 
 when you axe not there, he has so much work to do, he really 
 cannot stay. I will tell the governor of it the next time he 
 calls. You treacherous girl ! " But Zeo had left the room.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DESCRIBING A WONDERFUL RIDE IN THE TERRAQUEOUS 
 MACHINE. 
 
 ONE night, about a week after the events recorded in 
 the last chapter, a number of persons found themselves 
 at the house of Mr. Parsons. They had been summoned 
 by that gentleman himself, speeding after dark and in breath- 
 less haste from street to street. For months he had prom- 
 ised them a ride upon his terraqueous machine on its trial 
 trip. Every soul had been told of it under seal of strictest 
 secrecy : as a consequence of which, St. Jerome was thor- 
 oughly informed of the fact. Mr. Parsons's house was at some 
 distance from town, however, near the sea-beach ; and this 
 rapid assembling under cover of night enabled the inventor 
 to baffle the curiosity of the city. Col. Roland was of the 
 party, note-book and freshly-sharpened pencil in his breast- 
 pocket ; and, with the dawn of day, the great motor was 
 to be heralded, by his paper, to the world. All were in 
 high spirits, laughing and talking as they stole in together 
 like conspirators. Their host had enjoined silence ; which, 
 with the splendor of the clear and starlighted night, and the 
 curiosity alternating with certainty of failure as to their ride, 
 imparted by each one to every other as they trooped in, 
 made it as noisy a gathering as could be imagined. The 
 discoverer had ushered them in, meeting them, as they 
 came, at his front gate, with many a " Hush, if you please.
 
 158 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Hush ! Hush ! " And all had arrived on foot, Mr. Parsons 
 having promised to deliver each one at home at the end of 
 the ride. 
 
 " Rome was betrayed by the cackling of geese," he said, 
 with some vexation, as he stood among his noisy guests 
 assembled at last in the room, his thin hair scattered on his 
 head, his tall and gaunt frame taller and gaunter than ever, 
 his eyes more sunken, his words more rapid. "Do hush, 
 dear friends ! You will alarm the whole island ! " he en- 
 treated nervously. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Parsons," said Mr. Venable, 
 who was as much excited as any : " it was the geese saved 
 Rome." 
 
 " And we are on a wild-goose affair, anyhow, you know," 
 added Irene Buttolph ; and the chattering grew worse than 
 before, Mr. Farce Fanthorp only more extravagant in his 
 spirits than Col. Roland and the rest. Capt. Chaffin was 
 the one alone who behaved himself in virtue of being always 
 wooden, and even when under worse wind and flying froth 
 than that. The sudden adventure of the hour had stirred 
 the blood of Zeo too : her eyes sparkled, her cheeks 
 glowed ; she tried to cast out of her mind her father, lying 
 asleep at home. Grit had been sternly denied being pres- 
 ent by the inventor, who had yielded to his entreaty, not 
 until after the assurance of Zeo, that, if he could not come, 
 she would not. As radiant as any there, the boy stood by 
 his sister, full as a boy could hold of the fun of the hour. 
 
 " Now, friends," Mr. Parsons, who had been hurrying in 
 and out of the room, said at last, "we are about to take the 
 most rapid ride of our lives. I hope to make many miles 
 an hour. Your nerves will be tested to the utmost. Food 
 is necessary before we start. A little supper awaits you in 
 the dining-room. Come at once ! " and the company fol- 
 lowed him into the apartment, to find Mrs. Parsons at the 
 head of the table, Owny at her side.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1 59 
 
 "Friends," began the inventor, after he had motioned 
 them to their places at the abundant board, " there is not an 
 article of food upon this table that is not of my own inven- 
 tion. Of some you have partaken .before, with pleasure you 
 said at the time. Some are wholly new to you. There are 
 articles on this table, from which, if you knew what they were 
 in their original condition, you would turn with loathing and 
 horror. I have passed them, however, through certain pro- 
 cesses by virtue of which they are delicious. Out of the 
 offal of the kitchen and the streets, I have created, as our 
 Maker does by his processes in nature, a food for the poor 
 which will cost almost nothing. I have transmuted even the 
 dirt itself into delicacies. Not one solitary article of this 
 board, I repeat," he said, with outspread hands, "but is 
 my own invention. Mr. Venable, ask a blessing ! I had 
 hoped," he added, holding the minister in abeyance for a 
 moment with his extended hand, " to have had his Excel- 
 lency Gov. Magruder with us. He promised when I told 
 him Miss Zenobia was to take part. He is detained on his 
 plantation. Proceed, Mr. Venable." 
 
 It was some moments before that gentleman did so : the 
 stifled mirth of Irene Buttolph and the rest, as well as his 
 own, making it hard to do. 
 
 "And now, friends," Mrs. Parsons said from her end of the 
 board, before he had well finished, " Mr. Parsons says eat ; 
 but I say, as you value your lives, don't ! We don't intend 
 to, Owny here and I, not a single bit ! " and the laughing 
 hostess, who had welcomed them as they entered, with a 
 comical warning of uplifted hands and shaken head, joined 
 in their mirth, the loudest of them all, certainly the plumpest 
 and most jovial there. 
 
 " My Ezra Micajah Papa is good, but his dinner isn't 
 good," little Owny announced at this moment ; put up to it, 
 it is to be feared, by her mother. It's all "harkyf" the 
 little beauty added with emphasis, her rosy face screwed up
 
 l6O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 into a disgust comical to see, amid peals of laughter. But 
 the inventor was used to ridicule. Seated at his end of the 
 table, his long body stooped over his plate, taking enormous 
 mouthfuls, as is the habit of all men who are long and gaunt, 
 after heaping, as was also his wont, the cup and platter of 
 every one else with more than could be consumed, Mr. Par- 
 sons set them an example of appetite. Mr. Quatty was 
 seated near by ; but he was not used to being in company, 
 and was largely taken up with the proper disposition of his 
 legs and hands, to say nothing of his knife and fork, break- 
 ing a glass in his confusion, for he was, in addition, always 
 restless when separated from his horses. The only one who 
 emulated the host in appetite was Grit. Like all boys of 
 his hearty age, he was always ready for food. Besides, it 
 was a midnight picnic, with a suspicion of wickedness in it ; 
 and little he understood or cared for the originals out of 
 which the inventor's chemistry had produced the pies, cakes, 
 preserves, soups, tarts, and delicately-browned custards, be- 
 fore him. The fun of the company he enjoyed incidentally : 
 to the eating he gave his serious attention. 
 
 " You'll //'// yourself, 'ittle boy," Owny, who was seated 
 beside him, remarked, after watching, her blue eyes opened 
 to their widest, the way in which Grit despatched his food. 
 Her voice was drowned in the clatter of knives and plates, 
 as well as of laughter. Not that any one except Grit and 
 Mr. Parsons were eating especially. With unusual interest, 
 each in every other, everybody at table was politely offering 
 and urging the nearest delicacies upon all in reach, declin- 
 ing with thanks, and making but the faintest show of par- 
 taking, in their own case ; the one who entered most heartily 
 into the fun of the hour being the wife of the host. 
 
 " Take care, Col. Roland," she cried : " that butter is only 
 lard churned in milk. You had better not, Miss Zenobia : 
 that nice-looking bread is chiefly bones ground fine. Don't, 
 Mr. Fanthorp, as you value your life : that bronze jelly is the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. l6l 
 
 horns and hoofs of oxen ; I saw him crush them myself. I 
 wouldn't, Mr. Venable," she continued, laughing until the 
 tears ran down her full and rosy cheeks : " as sure as you 
 live, those cakes were cut in those beautiful shapes out of the 
 hides of the things he slaughtered ; he soaked them in acids, 
 and then cooked them in sirup. Grit, my dear, that 
 brown powder on the custards is blood burned to a crisp and 
 then pulverized." And, amid exclamations and screams of 
 surprise, the hour passed. Fortunately Mr. Parsons ate as 
 swiftly as he did every thing else. 
 
 " Hurry up, my son," he said to Grit, who was not quite 
 done. " You are the most sensible one at the table. Put 
 any thing you like in your pocket. But come, we must go. 
 Our trip must be done before day. Now, friends," he added 
 in a voice and manner which was becoming more excited as 
 the event approached, leading his guests back into the par- 
 lor, waving and hurrying them on with both his long arms, 
 " put on your things ; and, mind, I am skipper of this cruise. 
 If any one here is not going to obey me, instantly and abso- 
 lutely and to the end, let that person go home. All who will 
 consent to that, let them," he added, as they stood ready 
 around him, " follow me and Capt. Chaffin." 
 
 As Mr. Parsons and the captain disappeared, Mr. Quatty 
 suddenly placed himself between the company about to fol- 
 low him, and the door. The fact is, Mr. Quatty spent his 
 waking hours upon the seat of some vehicle or other, driving 
 from one horse to four, and usually at full speed, all the 
 time ; and, where there was so much around him of life and 
 motion, his fingers itched for the reins and the whip. 
 
 " Excuse me one moment," he said, awkwardly, but none 
 the less blocking their way out ; " whoa ! I mean, hold on a 
 little. This," he continued, his long, loose-jointed body 
 hung to one side, to balance his arms extended on the other, 
 in the direction of their departed host, " this, Mr. Parsons 
 tells us, is the inauguration of what is to be a revolution in
 
 1 62 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 travel ; a grand insurrection against horses, as I understand it. 
 I desire to make a few remarks, ahem ! before we start, you 
 see. I was at one time only an oysterman, although I some- 
 times dealt in clams. Having become a Christian, I wish to 
 benefit my fellow-men. So far as I can, I never let an op- 
 portunity pass so to do. Now, friends and fellow-country- 
 zens, I mean fellow-city-mens, never mind, you know 
 what I am driving at. Who knows," Mr. Quatty continued, 
 in the tones of an orator, " to what a smash-up we are pro- 
 ceeding? We may all end up in eternity. A few re- 
 marks" 
 
 " Phip Quatty, you are a fool ! " Mr. Parsons said, sud- 
 denly appearing from behind him as he stood in the door. 
 " Come," thrusting him aside with anxious arm, " make 
 haste ! It is late ! " 
 
 " Take warning ! he wanted to take Owny, but I wouldn't 
 let her go ; and / won't. You'd better not : don't go ! " 
 Mrs. Parsons called to them as they trooped out, standing 
 in the doorway laughing, and holding Owny up in her vigor- 
 ous arms. It was a pretty sight, the joyous woman and her 
 beautiful child, as the two filled the doorway, the parlor 
 lamps lighting them up from behind, and making the golden 
 hair of the child like an aureole about its head. The party, 
 as they followed Mr. Parsons, looked back, scolding the 
 wife merrily ; for all were in highest spirits. No one hesi- 
 tated, however. While they had small faith in the Terraque- 
 ous Machine, all had perfect trust in the well-known good- 
 ness of the inventor. No fear of his leading them into 
 danger. 
 
 " Now," said that gentleman when he had led them across 
 the entire grounds, stumbling and tripping over kegs and all 
 sorts of machinery and implements, " now understand. This 
 is the door of the shop which holds my machine. Until I 
 have tried it, and find that it is free from all mistake, I intend 
 no soul of you shall see it I have made mistakes before,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 163 
 
 but I am pretty sure this time. You will enter a room. 
 After I have locked you in, and the light out, I will open 
 another door, and hand you up by a few steps into the ma- 
 chine. Your part of it is covered in like an omnibus. Sit 
 down in it, and sit still. Ready? " And, after an assurance 
 to that effect, the inventor did as he had said, helping each 
 up, in the darkness, into a large vehicle of some sort, with a 
 hand which each person wondered at as it held his or hers, 
 it was so hot and hurried. 
 
 "All in?" he called, in an eager voice. "Do make 
 haste. Laugh as much as you please, only hurry. Hurry ! 
 All in?" 
 
 Then, as the company adjusted themselves as well as they 
 could in the midnight interior, upon cushioned seats, " Phip 
 Quatty ! " they heard their host call as he shut and locked 
 the door. There was the tramp of horses ; and then, " You 
 are not a fool at all, oh, no ! " Mr. Quatty was heard to 
 exclaim, amid the jingling of harness and the backing of 
 horses : " Oh, not a bit, certainly not ; we'll see ! G'lang ! " 
 and, with the crack of a whip, the vehicle rolled out, the 
 passengers being at the hinder end thereof. 
 
 "Strike for the beach, Phip. All right, Chaffin?" Mr. 
 Parsons, who seemed stationed upon the step outside the 
 door which he had closed upon them, called out. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " Capt. Chaffin was heard to reply from the 
 front. 
 
 " Then go ahead ! I'll steer when we strike the beach. 
 Drive ahead, Quatty ! " 
 
 " I do not like this. I do not like this at all ! " Irene 
 Buttolph exclaimed. 
 
 " Why, Irene ! " her sister was heard in reply. " It is only 
 a wagon drawn by horses. How fast they go ! Listen. 
 We have got on the beach. Hear how their hoofs ring on it. 
 And how the wind whistles, and the surf roars. It is only 
 Mr. Parsons's joke. How fast we go ! "
 
 164 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " That will do," they heard Mr. Parsons shout. " Chaffin ! 
 Now, Chaffin, now ! " and a moment after, amid a good deal 
 of thumping upon the roof of their conveyance, as well as 
 of creaking and cracking, they heard the same voice, " Phip 
 Quatty ! " and in rapid, excited tones, not as easily heard now 
 in the roar of the wind and sea, " Look out ! you will be run 
 down : cast off ! " The same moment Mr. Quatty could be 
 heard yelling to his horses, and cracking his whip. Somehow 
 the sound of hoofs was now to one side ; then the voice 
 of their driver died instantly away behind them. But the 
 vehicle kept on, kept on at a speed which was evidently 
 increasing, and so on and on, in the wondering silence of all, 
 for a while. Possibly twenty minutes may have passed ; but 
 it seemed to the passengers more than that, all attempts at 
 conversation or amusement being held in suspense by the 
 novelty of their situation. 
 
 " Let me out ! " shrieked Irene at last, evidently struggling 
 with her sister. " I won't hush ! We are going out to sea. 
 Help ! help ! If there is a gentleman here, he will break 
 open that door ! Col. Roland ! Mr. Fanthorp ! Mr. Vena- 
 ble ! Mr. Parsons ! Stop ! let me out ! " and the excited 
 girl screamed as if beside herself. 
 
 " We can't stop," Mr. Parsons shouted, opening a slide in 
 the door, and putting in his head. " I solemnly assure you 
 there is not the least danger. We could go to sea. I in- 
 tend we shall go to sea. But not yet. Don't scream so : 
 you distract my steering. It's all right," in jubilant tones, 
 as he shut the slide again. No wonder : the vehicle seemed 
 to be flying over the earth ; the howling of the wind and 
 the sea swelling the horror of the darkness to those within, 
 and the screams of Irene, after some cessation, rang loud 
 and louder. 
 
 " Why, Irene ! " her brother was heard to yell, " Hold your 
 tongue. It's the bulliest ride you ever had. Zeo ain't 
 afraid. You hush ! " The terrified girl, however, continued
 
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 165 
 
 to scream, until Mr. Venable, despairing of influencing the 
 exultant inventor, tried for Capt. Chaffin. 
 
 " Captain ! " he called, rising and steadying himself with 
 difficulty in the vehicle, which swayed from side to side in 
 what seemed to be its terrific and ever-increasing speed. 
 
 "Ay, ay ! What is it, Mr. Venable? " was the reply. 
 
 " A lady is frightened ; hold up ! " 
 
 " Don't do it : go on ! " saluted the captain's ears at the 
 same instant, from Mr. Parsons. There was an unloosening 
 of something in front, a creaking, a crash upon the roof, 
 and the conveyance slowly slacked its speed ; and, Irene 
 Buttolph diminishing her outcries accordingly, both the lady 
 and the machine came to a stop finally at the same moment. 
 
 "Chaffin," shouted Mr. Parsons from his end, "you are 
 discharged ! " 
 
 " Discharge away ! " was yelled in reply from the other. 
 (The captain explained himself to Mr. Fanthorp, the next 
 time he met him on the streets, to this effect : 
 
 "I knew Mr. Parsons would be dreadfully mad at my 
 stopping you all ; but the way I put it up," he argued with 
 his two thumbs point to point, "was this. Weemen are 
 so dedicate ! Suppose it had been my wife ! I thought of 
 that, and I shut down. I tell you, we are tough as you 
 please : they ain't. Dedicate is not the word for it. They 
 are what we will be if so be we ever get to heaven. Think 
 so?" But this explanation was some days after.) 
 
 " The next time I go," exclaimed Mr. Parsons as he un- 
 locked the door and let them out, " I'll pick my passengers 
 a little better ! " greatly enraged. 
 
 "But it is a lady, Mr. Parsons ! " Mr. Venable explained : 
 " besides, it is a glorious success ! " 
 
 " That's a fact ! But keep away from the front," the 
 inventor added sternly. " Not a soul shall see. Get in 
 again while Chaffin and I fix some way to get you back." 
 For the passengers had got out into the moonlight, the
 
 1 66 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 mounds of sand washed up by the sea being on one side of 
 them, the surf foaming to their feet on the other. " It's a 
 shame, a burning shame," he added, as the party got in 
 once more, out of the wind and flying spray. " I was going 
 to steer you all out to sea, at least, I was thinking of doing 
 so!" 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Parsons," Col. Roland and Mr. Fan- 
 thorp said in a breath, " but this will do for the present." 
 
 The truth is, Irene Buttolph had only put into screams 
 what all had more or less felt, as they soon agreed in the 
 excited conversation which ensued. "But how are we to 
 get home? " was the chorus with which it ended. 
 
 " Oh ! I fixed," the inventor said, somewhat angrily, " for 
 Phip Quatty to follow with horses in case of accident. He'll 
 be here in an hour no, not for about two hours," he cor- 
 rected himself with vindictive pleasure. " In ten minutes 
 more we would have turned the end of the island, and had 
 the smooth water of the bay. This isn't a land wagon only, 
 it's a Terraqueous Machine," he said with emphasis : " what 
 it has done on shore isn't a circumstance to what it can do 
 on water. Afraid ? Bah ! Fiddlesticks ! Stuff and non- 
 sense ! Con-cern Chaffin ! " Mr. Parsons .added. He was 
 guarding his passengers lest they should get out and pry into 
 the mysteries, at Capt. Chaffin's end of the machine, of his 
 wonderful motor. Sitting within and near the half-shut door, 
 Mr. Venable could not help hearing an additional sentence 
 from the lips of the excited and exasperated inventor. It 
 was but one sentence, and spoken in a lowered voice ; but 
 a sentence or so, and yet the alarm of Irene Buttolph was 
 pleasure compared to his feeling at the words he heard, 
 words which stunned him at first. And it was not for 
 months afterward that they ceased to shock him as at first. 
 These words, which nothing save the disappointment could 
 have compelled from a man like Mr. Parsons, were merely, 
 
 " Con-cern Chaffin ! One would suppose a crazy wife
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. l? 
 
 and two idiots for children was enough, without a fool for 
 a fourth ! " 
 
 But Mr. Venable had no time to take in the full horror 
 of the words then. It had been singularly warm for the sea- 
 son of the year, almost sultry, even in that climate. While 
 the rest were conversing together in their confinement, Mr. 
 Venable, feeling as if he must get away from them or suffo- 
 cate, broke through Mr. Parsons's resisting hands, got out, 
 and walked down to the edge of the inrolling surf. The sky 
 was clear, and the sea was smooth under the mild air ; a 
 thousand stars sleeping upon its slow and oil-like swell and 
 subsidence. Low down in the northern horizon, he observed 
 a cloud, the only one in sight, small, but singularly black. 
 But what arrested his attention was that the cloud was con- 
 tinually opening to show a heart of fire, and closing again ; 
 increasing very rapidly as he gazed, the alternate blackness 
 and brightness growing more vivid. Although the atmos- 
 phere around him was perfectly still, there was a sound of 
 roaring in the direction of the cloud ; and as if in a moment 
 it had rushed upon them with all its lightnings. Before 
 the observer could hasten to the machine, the wind was 
 howling in a hurricane ; and as the cry, "A norther ! " came 
 from the lips of Mr. Parsons, an arctic winter seemed to have 
 rushed in an instant into what had been almost summer 
 weather. 
 
 " Hustle in, hustle in, Mr. Venable," the inventor said, as 
 the rain mingled with hail came down in torrents. " Don't 
 be screaming in that way, Miss Irene ! " he had to say it at 
 the top of his voice, the roaring of the tempest was such. 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! It is only a norther. I knew it was 
 coming when we stopped, and ran the invention high up the 
 bank, out of reach of the surf. You'll find plenty of wrap- 
 pings under the cushions in there." 
 
 " But when are we to get home ? " Mr. Venable, being 
 nearest to the door, remonstrated.
 
 1 68 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Home ? Fiddlesticks ! " replied the irritated inventor. 
 " Mr. Quatty's coming with his horses, as I told you. All 
 you have got to do is to do nothing. Is that you, Quatty ? 
 Yes, here he is now. Hitch up, man, and get these trouble- 
 some people back." 
 
 But it was daybreak when, his invention hauled slowly 
 along the beach and into its house again, Mr. Parsons handed 
 them out of the machine and the building which concealed it. 
 
 " Run, every soul of you, to the house ! " he said, " and 
 you'll find my wife has something, I dare say, for you to eat, 
 although you don't deserve it." 
 
 But better than Mrs. Parsons's hot and abundant breakfast, 
 was the glee with which she and Owny welcomed them. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you so ! " she said, radiant with triumph. 
 " We believe, Owny and I, in Ezra Micajah Papa ; but we 
 don't believe in his inventions, not one bit ! But sit down, 
 sit down. This is a breakfast Owny and I invented : he had 
 nothing to do with it."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MR. VENABLE BEGINS TO BREAK HIS SHELL TOWARD 
 ENTERING UPON A LARGER LIFE. 
 
 GEN. BUTTOLPH had put at the disposal of his guest 
 a young and spirited horse ; but one afternoon, when 
 Mr. Venable wished to take a ride, young Plenty was absent, 
 and he went into the stable to saddle the horse for himself. 
 Behind it was an open shed, into which the April sun had 
 been shining warmly ; and, as he began to saddle his horse, 
 he heard old Plenty's voice as the aged negro sunned him- 
 self therein. What he had gathered when he first listened 
 to the soliloquy of the poor old soul had so distressed him 
 that he had refrained afterward from giving ear to him when- 
 ever he heard him talking to himself about the grounds. 
 Now, however, the tones of the negro were so peculiar that 
 he stopped to listen as the other said, 
 
 " I'll line it out, an' you sing : " and then in a high 
 
 recitative, 
 
 " ' When I can read my title clear 
 To mansions in de skies ' " 
 
 and in a cracked and feeble voice he sung the words to a 
 familiar tune, adding at the end,- " Ef you can't sing up more 
 peart dan dat, you lazy ole creeter, you better shet up. Now 
 den," in high recitative again, 
 
 " ' I'll bid far'well to ebbry fear, 
 An' wipe my weepin' eyes.' "
 
 I/O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 And yet again the weak and trembling voice of the soli- 
 tary worshipper arose in song. There was such sincerity in 
 this prayer-meeting of which old Plenty was both congrega- 
 tion and leader, that the other listened to verse after verse 
 alternately lined out and sung. The old negro never failed 
 to rebuke himself between the lining-out and the singing ; 
 but he was cruelly unjust, for he was evidently doing his best, 
 feeble as it was, every time. 
 
 " Now," he said at last, "I is goin' to try an' lead dis here 
 meetin' in prar ; an' when I pray, what I want you to do is to 
 pray ! Ef you can't sing," he added with sarcastic severity, 
 " try an' see, you mis'rable sinner, ef you can't pray anyhow. 
 Don't you go to lyin' to your Marster, makin' believe to pray 
 when you know you ain't prayin'." 
 
 But the listener made haste to leave ; for, from the begin- 
 ning, the supplicant made such importunate entreaties for 
 his " weeked mars general," for " dat highty-flighty Miss 
 Reny," that he wanted to hear no more ; but, as he led his 
 horse out, he could not help hearing one thanksgiving, so 
 hearty was it, for " dat blessed angel sent to save dis house, 
 my Miss Zeo : you is mighty sensible to send her, Lord ; " 
 and Mr. Venable rode away with food for .reflection. 
 
 The April sun had gone behind clouds as he left the 
 grounds, and it was not of Zeo Buttolph that he was thinking. 
 
 " It was a terrible shock when I heard Mr. Parsons say 
 that of Clara Chaffingsby," he said to himself as he rode, un- 
 consciously imitating the negro in his conference with him- 
 self, " to know that she is an " But he could not repeat, 
 even to himself, such a word of one so beautiful. 
 
 "It is / who am the idiot," he thought. " I might have 
 known it a hundred times over from what people hinted to 
 me before I saw her ; from her childish way when I did ; " 
 and he was filled with self-contempt until a tender and lov- 
 ing pity instead, for the poor girl, flooded his heart. " By 
 the by," he soliloquized, " that must be the reason Miss Irene
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1 71 
 
 has been so disdainful and sarcastic with me of late ; " and 
 he felt his cheeks burn. 
 
 Touching his horse with the spur, he galloped as if to 
 escape from himself along the hard beach, not drawing rein 
 until he was. miles away from St. Jerome. On his left hand 
 was the dreary expanse of sand, which composed the island : 
 not a tree was in sight. Outside the suburbs of the city not 
 a house was to be seen, great or small ; nothing but the 
 sandy surface heaped into hillocks or ridged into long lines 
 as the withdrawing sea had left it, with here and there a pool 
 of blackish water. A scanty tuft of grass appeared now and 
 then, diversified with prickly pears, chapparal bushes, mes- 
 quite shrubs. 
 
 " The grass is coarse, and the miserable shrubs are black 
 and contorted, from eternal wrestling with winds and water," 
 he reflected as he rode. "They cling none the less to the 
 sand, fighting desperately for dear life as if they thought 
 life was worth it ! " 
 
 The sea stretched out to the dim horizon on his right, but 
 not a sail was in sight. A dull, leaden day rested upon it all, 
 through which the sea-gulls flew heavily as if their wings 
 were clogged ; and he turned his horse at last, and rode slow- 
 ly homeward. 
 
 " I thought Gen. Buttolph was one of the noblest as well 
 as most genial of men," he said as his head fell upon his 
 bosom. " For so many years I have been shut up to hard 
 study and intense moral purpose, and how I relished, by way 
 of variety, a man who seemed to take the world indolent- 
 ly. So splendid a specimen of flesh and blood was a relief to 
 me after exclusive devotion to intellect and soul. I enjoyed 
 such a vigorous instance of the present, after going back so 
 unceasingly to the apostles, or forward to the Judgment 
 Day. The persons and things I have studied about so long, 
 glimmered like unreal ghosts in comparison with such a man. 
 He seemed as generous as he was rich, so genial and chiv-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 alrous too, and in such easy reach : it required no exertion 
 to believe in him. And now? " 
 
 He recalled the stupor of his host during the first night 
 of the storm at sea, nor did he admire as much as before 
 the glowing cordiality of the general's face : a ruddy hue 
 may have other sources, he thought, than the heart, and pur- 
 ple is not always the emblem of a king. 
 
 He remembered times at table when the general and his 
 daughters seemed not as much inclined to talk as usual ; 
 but he remembered that when Miss Irene was less brilliant 
 than common, her sister had taken more part in conversa- 
 tion ; a weight in what she said from her position, as really 
 the mistress of the house, at the end of the table, which had 
 made him eager for more acquaintance with her than had 
 seemed possible, she was generally so busy. 
 
 " I thought that poor idiot was beautiful," he said as he 
 rode along ; " and she has beauty, but no mind. And I ad- 
 mired Miss Irene for her talking, her singing, her laughter, 
 her accomplishments, her audacity ; but I wonder how much 
 heart she has." For he had begun to be surprised that Miss 
 Irene should find so much pleasure in the company of Mr. 
 Fanthorp. That gentleman, having of late taken the gen- 
 eral's plantation in hand, was, on that account, very often at 
 the house. He talked business with Gen. Buttolph, smok- 
 ing with him upon the veranda, of an evening; but he 
 always came into the parlor before he left, and his coming 
 was the signal for an hour or two of mirth with whoever was 
 there, usually Miss Irene. "I like fun as much as any- 
 body," Mr. Venable continued his meditations; "and he is 
 a perfect mimic, and the most amusing of men. Yet I 
 wonder Miss Irene doesn't get tired of it ; but she does not. 
 I can hear her laughter after I have gone to bed." The 
 beach was the only drive and there is not a finer in the 
 world of St. Jerome ; and many persons were out upon it 
 that afternoon, for the norther had been the expiring breath
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1/3 
 
 of winter, and the weather was like that of summer. As he 
 rode homeward he lifted his hat to more than one party 
 meeting him on horseback and in carriages. Suddenly he 
 saw Col. Roland driving toward him in an open buggy with 
 a pair of blooded horses, Gov. Magruder seated beside him. 
 They were so absorbed, the colonel talking, the other listen- 
 ing, that they hardly looked at him in passing. By this 
 time he had learned enough to explain and confirm what he 
 had unintentionally overheard the night he stood at Gen. 
 Buttolph's gate. 
 
 " And here Is this Roland," Mr. Venable said to himself 
 bitterly, "as polished a gentleman as one cares to see, a 
 genuine poet too ; and, under it all, a scheming politician. 
 He is paying his court to Miss Irene, and he does it amaz- 
 ingly well. How jealous he is of Mr. Fan thorp ! I wonder 
 if any woman can love a man whom she hears so unmerci- 
 fully ridiculed and mimicked as he is by the other. But," 
 Mr. Venable announced to himself, " I, for one, will not inter- 
 fere. Whichever of the two wins her, can have her, so far 
 as I am concerned. But Gov. Magruder " 
 
 A fierce jealousy of that dignitary arose on the instant in 
 his bosom. 
 
 "They barely condescended," he said, "to see me in 
 passing. The colonel is tutoring him, I dare say, for his visit 
 to Miss Zeo to-night ; and what am 7 to them ? to them ? 
 What am I to Gen. Buttolph ? to Farce Fanthorp ? Good 
 heavens ! what am I in any practical sense to anybody? 
 And how can I be any thing that is strong and manly to 
 her ? It is disreputable here in the South not to go to some 
 church ; and so they come and hear me when the weather 
 suits. Look here ! " and he turned upon himself after the 
 example of old Plenty, " you simple soul, what change does 
 your poetizing in the pulpit work in these men, in anybody? 
 I am nothing to them at last, but a younger sort of Father 
 Fethero."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 As the two gentlemen drove rapidly by, it had not been 
 at the colonel, but at his companion sitting erect, handsome, 
 attentive, beside him, that Mr. Venable had glanced. The 
 governor was so rich, had such a position, such brilliant 
 prospects, was so widely popular, was, above all, so certain 
 to win Miss Zeo, that, as by an instinct of nature, it was a 
 hungry glance he cast at him. 
 
 " Small wonder," he endeavored to console himself, " that 
 he should seize so cordially upon every one, should listen so 
 eagerly to everybody. It is the natural craving of empti- 
 ness ; but of an emptiness which no more retains than it 
 returns any thing. Every thing he owns was bequeathed 
 him ; and, apart from his father and Col. Roland, what is 
 he ? " But he envied him none the less, nor was it the first 
 time substance has envied shadow, and influence affluence ; 
 and yet even then the magnetism of the other had not 
 changed from attraction to repulsion : for his life, Mr. Ven- 
 able could not help liking the man. The repulsion was 
 from himself instead, and somewhat as, when a man is dying, 
 the soul repels from itself the dead body. 
 
 " As Heaven helps me," he said, " I will see if I cannot 
 make myself felt ! " and, spurring past Gen. Buttolph's 
 house, he continued down the beach. Young Plenty had 
 waited long and anxiously for him, when late that night he 
 returned, and gave his horse up to him at the general's gate.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HAVING REFERENCE TO A VARIETY OF PERSONS AND OF THINGS. 
 
 YOU must allow me, sir," Gen. Buttolph said to Mr. 
 Venable one evening a few weeks after this, as. he and 
 his daughter Irene accompanied him home from prayer- 
 meeting, " to congratulate you upon the vigor with which you 
 have gone to work of late. Your sermons are exceedingly 
 practical and excellent. I hope you will spare no one. I am 
 glad, too, that you have established the Bethel for seamen, 
 and that you have enlisted Zeo in your efforts for the poor 
 and neglected children of our city. You are doing a good 
 work, sir, a great work, sir ! Do not overtask yourself. If 
 you need money call on me, call on me." 
 
 " You know I rarely go to prayer-meeting : I'm afraid of 
 that ridiculous Mr. Quatty," Irene Buttolph said to Mr. 
 Venable, as they seated themselves in the parlor after they 
 had got home ; " but I'm glad I went. It was admirable ! 
 Where you described the old apostle in his prison at Rome, 
 after so many years of hard work, forsaken by Demas, 
 soon to be killed, it was grand ! I could have cried ; but 
 I was expecting Phil Quatty to pop up every moment. 
 Besides, just as I was about to cry I saw Mrs. Chaffingsby. 
 Did you notice her, Mr. Venable? While the tears were 
 running down her odd little face, she was looking up and 
 about the ceiling and the walls, as if she were taking their 
 measure for something. But I am in good earnest," the
 
 1/6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 young lady added as seriously as possible, " it was excellent ! 
 your remarks, I mean." For, after a period of coldness 
 amounting at times almost to rudeness toward her guest, the 
 young lady had re-acted into a measure of unusual friendli- 
 ness of late. 
 
 " It was most excellent," Gen. Buttolph added, taking, 
 as he said it, a key from his vest-pocket, " very good indeed. 
 I have always admired the devotion of that man to his Mas- 
 ter. Paul was a large man, I am sure. Peter, I feel certain, 
 was a little fellow, a whipper-snapper sort of a person. 
 Your remarks were good, very good indeed ; " and the gen- 
 eral had arisen as he spoke, and was rubbing his upper lip 
 with the key, twisting it around with his forefinger through 
 the loop thereof, passing it from hand to hand. His younger 
 daughter said nothing. Her head was drooped as she sat ; 
 but her eyes and her mind were upon her father at the 
 moment, rather than upon Paul or Peter. 
 
 " Thank you," said their pastor : " that is one reason why 
 I am glad, general, to accept your invitation, and spend a 
 few days with you at your plantation. I want to have Father 
 Fethero preach for me while I'm away." 
 
 " Father Fethero ! " exclaimed Irene. "What, that hor- 
 rid old man ? Why, Mr. Venable ! The idea ! Please don't. 
 Commodore Grandheur would have to be carried home from 
 church on a shutter. It would make even Mr. Nogens say 
 something." 
 
 " I consulted the commodore," Mr. Venable replied ; 
 "and, although he was surprised at first, he cordially con- 
 sented. He has been exceedingly pleasant in his intercourse 
 with me of late. Mr. Nogens also : I asked him." 
 
 " The idea ! " Irene persisted, her hands in the air. 
 " I can imagine that poor old soul rising in our pulpit, with 
 his red and white hair, his bronzy face, his blue spectacles, 
 his dingy white cravat, his shabby old What did Mr. 
 Nogens say?"
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "He said yes," Mr. Venable answered, with a smile. 
 "And I am glad," he added gravely and warmly, "that I 
 can show Father Fethero this mark of respect. We were 
 speaking of Paul," he continued ; " and here is a man who 
 has worked just as hard, as long, and as single-heartedly too, 
 as Paul, and for the same Master. He is old and poor. 
 I am afraid he has fewer friends even than the apostle. 
 With all my soul I honor him, respect him, love him, think 
 myself unworthy to preach while he sits there so humbly 
 Sunday after Sunday." As he said it he was aware that the 
 other sister had lifted her head, and was looking at him 
 with a new interest in her eyes, a look which thrilled him 
 with pleasure. 
 
 " You are right, perfectly right, entirely right," Gen. But- 
 tolph added, walking about the room in a somewhat purpose- 
 less way, playing nervously with the key in his hand. " I 
 honor you ; I mean, I honor him : that is, I honor you both. 
 Isn't it rather late? We must not allow you to overtalk 
 yourself, Mr. Venable ; and, young ladies, it is time you were 
 in bed. I prefer Paul to Peter, myself; " and, like his daugh- 
 ter Zeo in that, the mind of the general seemed to be in 
 the key which he was passing eagerly from hand to hand. 
 Had it been the costliest of jewels, the heart of the poor 
 girl, from under her eyelids drooped again, could not have 
 been fastened more eagerly upon it. No wonder ! The 
 young people were hardly out of the room, before the key 
 was rattling in his eagerness against the keyhole of his 
 sideboard in the dining-room adjoining. More like a tiger 
 upon its prey than a human being, the general seized upon 
 the heavy decanter of cut glass, did not take time for a 
 goblet in his terrible thirst, placed the vessel to his greedy 
 lips, and drank and drank, as if it were life and not death 
 which he was drinking. And while he drank, Zeo, in her 
 own room, with rapid hands had hastily changed her dress 
 for the night. Then she knelt beside her bed in prayer.
 
 1/8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 It was more than the woman grasping the mantle of Christ ; 
 for she was entreating for another, not herself, and for that 
 other under the curse of a malady the most hopeless of all. 
 As she prayed, she sank down from beside the bed, and 
 lay at last, with dishevelled hair, upon the floor. The 
 woman of Syrophenicia did not call to Christ so importu- 
 nately ; for this was no child for whom she prayed, but a 
 grown man, diseased and dying. Nor could any Mary of 
 them all have held so firmly to the feet of Jesus, since this 
 woman knew, unlike them, that he had not merely risen 
 from the dead, but had also ascended to heaven, was not 
 a man merely, but likewise the Son of God. She had not 
 been to prayer-meeting that night, occupied in some way 
 with her brother at home ; but ah, how she clung to God in 
 prayer now ! Thoughts of her mother, in white, and singing 
 among the saints, were in her mind ; but that mother could 
 not have sung to Christ there with such earnestness as this 
 daughter, in her night-clothing, besought him. There was 
 the difference, however, of utter weariness at length ; and she 
 arose, and went into her sister's room. Irene was already 
 asleep. Zeo shrank from disturbing her, sleeping so sweetly, 
 her cheek in her hand. She stooped over her, and kissed 
 her. Her tears she did not intend it dropped upon her 
 sister's face. In a moment Irene was sitting up in bed, 
 alarmed, enraged, then weeping hysterically. 
 
 "O Zeo ! why won't you let me alone? " she said. "If 
 you must kill yourself, do let me live ! I know ; but what 
 can I do ? what can you do ? It's night after night, night 
 after night ! We've begged and implored him. I'm des- 
 perate. Go to bed." 
 
 " Irene, sister," Zeo began. 
 
 " You are losing your senses ! " Irene continued, her 
 eyes suddenly becoming dry. " I tell you I cannot en- 
 dure it. Zeo," she added fiercely, " I'm driven to despera- 
 tion. The next time Col. Roland asks me, I'll say yes.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 There is Mr. Fanthorp, too. He is full of his nonsense ; 
 but he is a splendid business man. See how he is mana- 
 ging papa's plantation. You said so yourself; " and, with a 
 singular change in her passion, the girl laughed as hysteri- 
 cally as she had wept before. " Take the governor, Zeo : 
 take him, take him, and be done with it; and let us 
 get away from papa. Nonsense ! " she said, as her sister 
 blushed, " I know what you are thinking about : he is no 
 worse than men generally. Col. Roland has only asked me 
 eleven times ; and I'll take him at the dozenth. If you 
 will talk ! " she added. 
 
 " Reny, dear," her sister said, rising from the bed on 
 which she had seated herself, " I felt so desolate, that was 
 all. We can do nothing. Perhaps God can. Won't you 
 pray to him too? " 
 
 " Zeo, you are a goose," the other replied, settling her- 
 self comfortably in bed : " you have lost your wits. The 
 Nautilus spoiled you. You think it was your prayers, that 
 trip, which kept the old boat from sinking. I wish it had 
 sunk, with all my heart. I don't want to live. What can 
 we do ? Go to bed, and go to sleep. I'm too sleepy even 
 to cry." 
 
 It was an hour after that, and Zeo was seated by her 
 father, lying as usual on the sofa in the dining-room. The 
 decanter lay broken upon the floor, her father snoring heavily 
 in his drunken sleep. Zeo had loosened his neckcloth, and 
 propped up the heavy head, as usual; and there she sat 
 stupid with grief and weariness. The air was foul with the 
 debauchery, so to speak, of the smell of liquor ; it enclosed 
 the girl as in its immorality, and she shuddered and shrank. 
 At last she started, as the door slowly opened. It was Grit, 
 his clothes only half on, his shoes in his hand, his hair, and 
 his face as well, telling of the sleep from which he had just 
 arisen. 
 
 " I was dead asleep," he said, " but you and sister talking
 
 ISO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 wakened me up. I tried to go to sleep, but I can't. I 
 thought I'd steal down and stay with you." He said it in 
 a common and even coarse way. Sentiment may be found 
 in the bosoms of boys of a lighter build ; but Grit possessed 
 no article of the kind. He was a bad boy, in virtue of a 
 stronger will worse than even the negroes ; and not one of 
 these knew him better than did, by this time, the pure 
 young girl by whom he stood. 
 
 " Grit," she said at last, putting her arms around his waist 
 as he fastened up his suspenders, " I never intend to call 
 you Grit, again, as long as I live. You are my brother Theo- 
 dore ; and you are all I have to lean on in this world. 
 Grit," very wearily indeed, " do you believe in God? " 
 
 " I don't know nothing about God," he said, as he but- 
 toned up his vest. " What do you girls suppose a fellow 
 thinks about such stuff? But I tell you what it is, Zeo," he 
 added, pushing her off a little, the better to complete his 
 toilet, " tell you what it is, Zeo, I believe in you. And," 
 he continued, " I am getting to believe in Mr. Venable. 
 You know he never goes riding these days, nor fishing, but 
 he wants me to go along. We race when we get out of 
 sight, Zeo ; and you bet I beat him ! and he talks to me, 
 tells me stories he has read somewhere ; the best fellow I 
 know. I told you how he has me up in his room, and shows 
 me every book he has that's got pictures in it, hang them 
 that haven't ! He plays checkers with me, and says he'll 
 teach me chess. I like him. I say, look here ! is there 
 any cake handy anywhere? " 
 
 The two must have been up late that night. The gener- 
 al, however, was looking about as well as usual the next 
 morning, at breakfast. 
 
 "I wish, general," Mr. Venable said, in his ignorance, 
 although not without his fears, as he rose from the table, 
 " that I had your splendid constitution, you look so ruddy 
 and strong. But I'm afraid Miss Zeo does not sleep well.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. l8l 
 
 You must have been dreaming of your many conquests, 
 Miss Zeo. Commodore Grandheur admires you exceedingly. 
 Mr. Parsons, too, told me last night after prayer-meeting, 
 that you were the only sensible person in his machine the 
 day we took that ride." 
 
 "And what about Old Ugly?" Irene asked slyly. 
 " Don't blush so, Zeo. If the governor is successful, they 
 need not call you Old Mrs. Ugly, you know." 
 
 " I fear," added Mr. Venable, eager to change the sub- 
 ject, "that Mr. Parsons thinks so highly of you because, 
 unobserved of all of us, perhaps, you ate as heartily as Grit 
 here, at the banquet Mr. Parsons gave us. By the by, he 
 insists on our taking another ride when he has made some 
 alteration in his invention. The next time it shall be, he 
 says, by day. There must be something wonderful in it. 
 He said we made twenty miles an hour. Miss Zeo, could I 
 see you one moment?" he added. 
 
 "Secrets from me?" Irene called out after them, as they 
 left the table. She was in radiant spirits, laughing and 
 talking about their visit to the plantation, the magnolia- 
 trees, the negroes, and the mocking-birds, from the moment 
 blessing had been asked. 
 
 "I wanted to ask you" the gentleman and lady said 
 it in the same breath, each holding out to the other a little 
 roll of money as they entered the hall, closing the breakfast- 
 room door behind them. 
 
 " What 7 wished," the gentleman said, laughing, " was to 
 beg you to take this money, and be so good as to get it, in 
 some way, to Father Fethero's daughter." 
 
 " He does need a new suit badly. It was the very thing 
 I was going to ask you to do. But, thank you, I will," Zeo 
 added. " I had already talked with Miss Aurelia she 
 had spoken with me, I mean about it. Thank you, I will 
 attend to it to-day." 
 
 " I wonder what I have done," Mr. Venable said ruefully,
 
 1 82 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 as he gave her the money and took his hat from the rack : 
 "Miss Aurelia is very cold toward me of late. I would 
 gladly apologize and correct it, if I knew. Can't you find 
 out, Miss Zeo ? " 
 
 " I'll try : good-morning," and Zeo closed the door after 
 him with a smile. But why is it oh, why? that, in the 
 small affairs of life, a woman is sure to know all about a thing 
 when one of our pre-eminently superior sex, standing as 
 near the thing, whatever it is, as she, remains as ignorant as 
 a fool? It is not proper that a man, compared to any 
 woman, should seem like a donkey in contrast with an angel. 
 The man may not know he is an ass, but the woman does ; 
 and it makes her conceited, spoils her for the service of 
 man. 
 
 In the climate of which we are speaking, twilight is a thing 
 unknown ; it is either day, or it is night. So of the seasons 
 of the year. Winter had gone as with a bound, and summer 
 had corne without any transition of spring, as Mr. Venable 
 walked, that day, rapidly along toward Father Fethero's 
 humble home. Looking around, and observing no one in 
 sight, he whistled as he trod the green grass, looked upon 
 the blue sea, saw how rapidly the leaves were unfurling their 
 flags upon china-tree and oleander. Driving unpleasant 
 thoughts from his mind as by main force, he endeavored to 
 encourage himself, instead, as he went. There was, for in- 
 stance, a deepening gravity in the manner of his host, which 
 he liked. The general was plainly becoming, under his min- 
 istrations, whatever old Plenty had said, more thoughtful. If 
 he were only prepared to speak in prayer-meeting, he would 
 be such an additional bulwark against Mr. Quatty, to say 
 nothing else. Mr. Venable resolved to urge his duty upon 
 him at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 The visitor lightened up Father Fethero's house im- 
 mensely that morning. It was a poor place, scantily fur- 
 nished. The half-dozen grandchildren did not seem, some-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 183 
 
 how, as happy as children should be, when the visitor went 
 into the little garden in which their grandfather was busily at 
 work with them. At sight of him, the little ones huddled 
 together, as is the way with things that are feeble and fright- 
 ened. The faces of all were timid, and yet too hard for 
 children. Care and poverty had grimed itself into the grain 
 of their skins, the glance of their eyes ; there was that which 
 was lank and hopeless in their very hair ; and their grand- 
 father was very rusty indeed. The straw hat on his head, as 
 well as the foxy black suit he wore, should have been retired 
 into the seclusion of the ash-barrel or the paper-mill years 
 before. 
 
 "I don't know, I do not know," Father Fethero said, 
 when his young brother had told of his intended absence, 
 and begged him to supply his pulpit. It was not so much 
 that the old man was slowly thinking over the pile of yellow 
 sermons in the hair trunk up-stairs, trying to recall any that 
 would do ; nor that afterward, as he leaned upon his spade, 
 he went deliberately over, in his mind, his best suit as when 
 he had examined it last Sunday morning. He could not 
 recall the suitable sermon on the instant ; and he remembered 
 that the seams up the elbows of his coat were, even to his 
 dimmed eyes, really really For years now, and to 
 every proposition, he had always said at first, "I don't 
 know, I do not know." But then the other part of his 
 ritual came in ; and after a half-hour of talk, he said, " Well, 
 brother, if it is so, I will stand in the gap. Yes, stand in the 
 gap. I will stand in the gap." That matter being disposed 
 of, the two leaned against the palings, Mr. Venable having 
 too much sense to go into the house at that hour of the 
 morning, and refreshed themselves with a little tough the- 
 ology. And then Mr. Venable spoke with eagerness in re- 
 gard to the new work upon which he had lately entered, and 
 of his joyous hopes of success. But Father Fethero, though 
 much brightened up by the visit, and the liberal compensa-
 
 184 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 tion he was to receive, could not in conscience agree with 
 the other. 
 
 " It may be so, may be so. Young men are hopeful," he 
 said at length ; "but," with his sorrowful spectacles fastened 
 upon the sea beyond, " I plainly perceive a gloom, brother 
 Venable. The god of this world, the power which now 
 worketh in the children " 
 
 " Is not half as strong as our God," the younger man 
 interrupted heartily, but respectfully too. " Pardon me, 
 Father Fethero, but I have a sermon to write. I wish you 
 would lend me one of yours." 
 
 Mr. Venable said it as he laughed and walked off. He 
 tried to get up his whistling again, but that which haunted 
 him day and night would not be whistled off when he tried 
 that once more. 
 
 " O God ! " the man said to himself, with sudden vio- 
 lence, " what does he or I understand of theology or religion ? 
 What do we know, poor fools, about God ? Hers was such 
 a beautiful face ! So pure ! Such perfect grace and charm ! 
 Surely the angels have not eyes deeper or more lovely ! 
 And is music so sweet as her voice ? I can never see such 
 another. It is impossible for such an ideal to be seen 
 twice. An idiot? What can God mean by such a deed?" 
 And he laid his hand upon his mouth to crush back the 
 blasphemies which arose in his heart. But summer, to him, 
 had vanished as he strode along. All that he could do was 
 to hurl himself into his next sermon. It should be on the 
 mysterious doings of God. He would try to convince 
 others, perhaps he might convince himself. Yet, strange to 
 say, he had no sooner settled on a text than, as he walked 
 away, Zeo Buttolph, in most illogical fashion, constituted all 
 the consecutive heads thereof; and the application was, that 
 in some way, some divine way, Providence would vindicate 
 itself in regard to Clara Chaffingsby in the end, especially in 
 regard to Zeo and himself.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 185 
 
 In due time Father Fethero received, in a delicately- 
 worded note from anonymous ladies, a good deal more than 
 enough to get a superfine suit. It was handed respectfully 
 to him over the fence, as he worked, by a negro whom he 
 did not know, although the man, taking off his hat as he did 
 so, it was young Plenty, in fact, evidently knew him. 
 As Mr. Venable constantly said to himself, this negro resem- 
 bled a statesman, if only in his gravity and silence ; and a 
 statesman could not have presented his credentials as ambas- 
 sador to a king with more dignity. The note was weightier 
 than is generally the case with communications bearing the 
 spidery handwriting in which it was addressed. The old 
 man read it doubtfully through his blue spectacles; but 
 somehow they grew dim, and he tried to read it without his 
 glasses. Adjusting his spectacles again, he studied the writ- 
 ing, and then the coins of gold, as if the one had been 
 a passage from his neglected Hebrew Bible, and the other 
 specimens of the mintage of King David. 
 
 " No, my dear Jane," he said at last, after days of con- 
 sultation with his widowed and sad-visaged daughter, " I 
 will do as I said at first. The children must have shoes and 
 many other things. Your dress is not suitable for a minis- 
 ter's daughter. No one would ever notice the pants. I 
 will compromise, to please you, on the vest, if you select a 
 cheap one. But a coat will do. I would prefer, in any 
 case, to get into the pulpit before the mass of the congrega- 
 tion arrive. And I never like to go down from the pulpit 
 until they are pretty much all gone. I have heard things 
 which have hurt me when, after preaching, I have mingled 
 with a retiring congregation. Their backs were toward me 
 as they went. The pants are not at all needed. All that 
 will be seen of me over the pulpit cushions will be the coat. 
 No, Jane, no. But you may get me a new cravat. One 
 will do. Can you recall, Jane, any one of my sermons 
 which you would prefer I should preach ? The people of
 
 1 86 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the First Church are critical to a sinful degree. Please 
 keep the children as quiet as you can to-day. I may have 
 to re-write my sermon. Run out and play, little ones : sum- 
 mer has come." So saying, he went to his little room up- 
 stairs, and, placing an old Bible upon the one hide-bottomed 
 chair in the room, he knelt down upon a little spot already 
 worn white in the rag carpet thereby, intending to engage in 
 prayer in a certain set order of invocation, adoration, thanks- 
 giving, confession, supplication. But his course was at last as 
 illogical as that of his visitor; for, laying his old cheek 
 upon the book, he could only weep. He was merely a 
 homely old man, and very poor : yet who will undertake to 
 swear that the prophets and apostles were always as grand of 
 aspect as painters and sculptors would have us believe ?
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. l8/ 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH WE DESCEND INTO THE CHEMISTRY OF ELOQUENCE, 
 AND LEARN HOW AN ORATION IS PREPARED. 
 
 A MORE sincere and every way excellent man than Mr. 
 Phip Quatty never lived, nor a more thoroughly un- 
 educated one ; and a more sensible man you never knew. 
 In the dialect of St. Jerome, " If ever a man had what you 
 may call good, strong, hard horse-sense, Quatty's your man." 
 As all admitted, however, there was that fatal exception which 
 was always stated in making out this verdict : the individual 
 in question " would speak." As has been already remarked, 
 there were many excellent private members in that, as there 
 are in every church, whose remarks at prayer-meetings met 
 with the cordial approval of all; but Mr. Quatty was an 
 oddity, a wholly exceptional case. Mr. Venable begged 
 him in private, and almost with tears in his eyes, for it was 
 a very serious matter indeed, not to make remarks, yet 
 entreated him in vain. Mr. Ezra Micajah Parsons had pat- 
 ented a variety of railway-brakes among other things ; but 
 he failed ignominiously in devising any mode of stopping 
 Mr. Quatty, and never had Mr. Parsons given his mind more 
 vigorously to any thing. Mrs. Chaffingsby became herself 
 a picture of disgust in the framing of her pew " at meet- 
 ing," whenever Mr. Quatty arose to speak. Mr. Parsons and 
 herself, as members of the same church with the offender, 
 had a strong aversion to his peculiarity. Commodore Grand-
 
 1 88 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 heur had an alarming way of growing purple as to his face 
 when angry, and bristling as to his heavy white moustache, 
 and demonstrative as to his still heavier gold-headed cane. It 
 was not every one who dared face the commodore when the 
 veins about his bald head became blue and swollen. After 
 every attempt of Mr. Phip Quatty to " make a few remarks " 
 at any church-meeting, the commodore would roll down, so to 
 speak, upon the culprit in a thunder-storm even more terri- 
 ble than the one before ; and yet what good or evil did his 
 almost apoplectic expostulations do? Not a bit. To Mr. 
 Quatty, at least when the next opportunity to speak was 
 come, the vehement denunciations were no more than the 
 puffs of smoke from the cigar of the last passer-by. Mr. 
 Quatty would speak. 
 
 It was very remarkable. Every Wednesday night he went 
 from the livery-stable of which he was the energetic owner, 
 to prayer-meeting, as fully resolved as any man could be, 
 that he would not say a word. Alas ! the lights; the singing, 
 the prayers, the reading by the pastor of some specially 
 striking scripture, most of all, the exhortations of some 
 brother present, would be sure to stir him up, and alto- 
 gether beyond his own control ; and in spite of himself, as 
 well as of all the world beside, speak he must, and would, 
 and did. 
 
 He was, as has been described, a tall man, long, lean, sun- 
 burned by reason of unceasing exposure with his horses, 
 which, by the by, were so many manias to him, only less 
 than Jjis speeches. Restless of eye, generous to an absurdity 
 with his money, whoever wanted it, with a shrewd and kindly 
 face, he had but one fault, he would speak ! Nor was that 
 a fault when you came to know the reason prompting the 
 simple-hearted man : really it was an excellence instead. 
 
 The fact that Mr. Quatty was one of the shrewdest of 
 men in every thing else caused this insanity of his to stand 
 out in grotesque contrast upon the daily background of his
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 189 
 
 otherwise uniform and vigorous common sense. Expla- 
 nation is easy. He had heard a vast deal of oratory, often 
 of an exceedingly florid kind, on Fourths of July, during 
 political campaigns, on Masonic anniversaries, and the like ; 
 and whiskey could not have so intoxicated him. Not that 
 the subject-matter of the eloquence was of the slightest in- 
 terest to him. A breathless listener from first to last, by far 
 the most excited hearer present, his one thought through all 
 was, 
 
 " Oh, if I could only get a show at this crowd in that 
 way ! Yes ; and, if I could just get to going, I could pile on 
 the agony higher than you are doing, you bet ! " 
 
 In other words, to Mr. Quatty, public speaking meant 
 declamation, and declamation meant something immeasura- 
 bly more than ordinary language. What so poor and mean 
 as the daily talk he held along the streets, now with this one 
 man, and now with that ! In contrast, what so glorious as 
 for him to have to do with a thousand people at once, his 
 talk swelling into a sort of thunder-storm proportionately ! 
 But Dr. Burrows, his previous pastor, had stimulated his hal- 
 lucinations into almost madness. A very ore rotunda speak- 
 er Dr. Burrows was. Portly of person, powerful of voice, 
 orbicular of gesture, the solemnity of his themes gave a 
 sanction to his oratory which made it a matter of conscience, 
 in additfon to all else, that Mr. Quatty should imitate and 
 surpass it. He would be more than President of the United 
 States if he could present truth in that way, now sinking 
 hand and voice into the still small whisper of thrilling 
 appeal, and now and this he liked best crashing upon 
 the people in thunder of righteous denunciation. 
 
 " Ah, me ! " Mr. Quatty had many a time groaned to him- 
 self on leaving church, "if I could get up as high as the 
 doctor did, I could have got up fifty times higher, and I 
 could have come down upon those people a hundred times 
 harder. You bet ! No, not bet : it's Sunday, and it's a ser-
 
 I9O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 mon. But, oh, if I only had any sort of a show, but one 
 fair chance, just one ! " 
 
 And thus it came about that he arose one eventful day 
 at an unusually early hour. He had been very wakeful all 
 night, so that when his wife groaned as he got up, "O 
 Phip, Phip, I wouldn't if I was you ! " and her husband 
 replied, "Can't help it, Sally," it was but in continuation 
 of a conversation to a like effect which had been kept up 
 intermittently through the hours of darkness gone before. 
 
 Mrs. Quatty sat up in bed, arranged her hair a little, 
 rubbed her eyes, which had evidently been deprived of their 
 lawful rest, and made one last, despairing appeal, 
 
 " Oh, how I do wish you wouldn't ! " 
 
 "Can't help it, Sally." The words were few; but it was 
 in substance all Mr. Quatty ever said, in that connection, to 
 her or to any one else. They were few and final, because 
 they were the utterance to others of what was to the man 
 himself the decree of destiny, necessity, nature. He did 
 not desire to make remarks in meeting. A vast deal rather 
 would he listen, instead, to anybody else you might mention. 
 " There is nothing I have to do I hate more," he often said. 
 It was the grief of his life. " I would rather, any day, have 
 an overseer take a rawhide to me," he was continually ob- 
 serving. By an inscrutable doom, more perplexing and 
 painful to him than it could possibly be to any other, he 
 "had to speak," and that was all there was of it. Mr. 
 Quatty had never read of the Virgin at Delphi uttering 
 oracles sorely against her will, or he might have quoted that 
 precedent. As it was, his reply, as final in its tone as in all 
 else, so cool because concerning something in relation to 
 which all discussion was idle, his reply expressed it all, 
 
 " Can't help it, Sally." 
 
 The morning alluded to was that of the day upon which 
 it had been arranged by Mr. Quatty's pastor that he should 
 have a hall engaged for the purpose, and an entire evening
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. IQI 
 
 to and for himself. Then and there he was to make fully, 
 finally, once and for all, the remarks which he had so often 
 and faithfully tried to make in prayer-meetings and else- 
 where, and tried in vain. Although the plan had been sug- 
 gested by his pastor cautiously and with hesitation, lest it 
 should hurt his parishioner's feelings, Mr. Quatty had con- 
 sented to it promptly, cordially, almost rapturously. It was 
 precisely the thing he had desired for years. 
 
 " I have never had any show, you see, sir," he explained 
 to Mr. Venable at the end of their conversation. " People 
 all around me are going to ruin ; and even when you get 
 such people into a meeting, somehow what is said does not 
 hit a man of the crowd as a hammer hits a nail on the head. 
 It may all be very good, but it is mighty misty and round- 
 about. Somehow it don't hit so as to hurt, and people go 
 away exactly as they came. That is the reason I get up. 
 Something must be said. I would as lief have a hand 
 chopped off as to have it to do ; but if nobody else does it, 
 I must.'" 
 
 "But why not say it all," his friend asked, "to people in 
 conversation? You have many wicked men coming into 
 your stable every day, you tell me : why not seize an op- 
 portunity then, and have a private talk ? I find / can do 
 more with a person in such conversation than I can from the 
 pulpit." The other made prompt reply, 
 
 " Because, being a minister, they don't interrupt, you see, 
 any more then than when you are preaching. Talk? I try 
 to do so every day of my life. But the fellow, whoever it is, 
 will interrupt. He is sure to say, ' O Quatty ! let me have 
 a horse and buggy, and go ; ' or, ' Stuff, Quatty, nonsense ! if 
 you care so for my soul, why won't you let me have that ten 
 dollars?' I do let them have the ten dollars, fifty, for 
 that matter," Mr. Quatty added, " except when I know 
 for dead certain it will go for whiskey or gambling or some- 
 thing worse. No, sir ! and twenty to one, as sure as I begin
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 to talk, the man will say, ' Well, now, you have had your say, 
 let me talk ; ' and then he will fly off with some joke or story, 
 or start me talking horse-flesh. What I want, you see, is to 
 get at people when I can say all I've got to say, without any- 
 body putting in. My idea is to get a crowd to sit still as 
 they do for you at church, and listen. Then I only want a 
 good fair start, and I can always have that by beginning with 
 my being an oysterman, and all I want is to get to going, you 
 know ! I have so much to say," he added with almost tears 
 in his earnest eyes, " that if I get the hang of the thing, the 
 swing of it, you know, the rush of the thing, you under- 
 stand," with an illustrative gesture of both of his long arms, 
 as if he were pushing some vehicle rapidly before him, " the 
 gush and rush and roar of the thing, I could make a speech 
 that would tell, yes, sir-ee bob, tell like thunder ! " 
 
 And now the morning of the day set for Mr. Quatty to 
 speak had come. Full notice had been given in all the city 
 papers, Col. Roland adding in his sheet a special editorial in 
 reference to " Mr. Quatty, our well-known, estimable, and 
 enterprising fellow-citizen," the subject of the commendation 
 as ignorant as a lamb of the sarcasm of the colonel's Italics. 
 Never had his many friends seemed so zealous in his affairs. 
 Profane men and gamblers as many of them were, they had 
 cheerfully contributed toward posters advertising the meeting 
 in the hall, posters exhausting the resources, both as to 
 largest type and most vivid colors, of all the printing-offices 
 in the city. No wonder Mr. Quatty was unable to sleep the 
 night before. Nor is it to be wondered, that on rising, as we 
 have said, he resisted his wife to the last as he put on his 
 best clothes at once, so as to give his whole mind to the 
 matter without the interruption of having to dress again at 
 night. Immediately after breakfast he had his span of 
 "crack" grays harnessed to his own private buggy, and 
 drove off to the sea-beach to be by himself, and to think. 
 
 It was a morning bright, cool, crisp enough to inspire the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 1 93 
 
 dullest man living. Mr. Quatty's soul was charged and 
 surcharged with an abundance of things to say, things to 
 him of the highest conceivable beauty and sublimity, things 
 which held and stirred his own heart beyond any thing else 
 in the world. There was plenty to say, no fear of that ; and 
 no man could be in more vigorous, even rugged health : the 
 blood coursing swiftly, that bracing morning, through his 
 brain, enabling him to dare and to do every thing, as it did 
 through his stomach, enabling him to digest every thing. As 
 he struck the beach he shook the reins eagerly. " G'lang ! " 
 he said to his grays ; and as they sped along in the fringe of 
 the surf, " That is it," he said aloud, " that's the way to get 
 to going in my speech, the way to get the rush of the 
 thing. And now let me study." 
 
 But the orator found it almost impossible to do so : he 
 could not help going over in mind his many past efforts 
 and failures ; then he pictured to himself the hall as it would 
 be that night, the lights and the crowd, the deathlike stillness 
 of attention, the deepening interest, the tears of all present 
 as he proceeded, the applause when he should end, the con- 
 gratulations of his friends, the notices in the papers next 
 day ; and more, far more than all, the good he would have 
 done in general, and to certain specially " hard cases" who 
 were sure to be in attendance. As his horses flew along the 
 beach, their driver continually shaking the reins and urging 
 them on in his eagerness, Mr. Quatty had never been so 
 excited in his life. 
 
 " The morning I was to marry was not a circumstance to 
 it," he said ; " not even the day I joined the church. But 
 look here, Quatty," he continued, " this isn't studying your 
 speech. Hold up a moment," he said aloud, and he reined 
 in his grays until they came to a stand : " let me imagine all 
 the people there, still as mice, and attentive as you please. 
 I wonder if the hall will be crowded. Perhaps some will 
 have to sit on the platform : never mind. Whoa, hold up ! 
 let me begin at the beginning."
 
 194 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Now, as we know, Mr. Quatty always began his remarks 
 in public by telling of having once been an oysterman, and 
 a rather disreputable one ; also of his having been rescued 
 from his evil courses by the intervention of a stranger who 
 had told him, somewhat singularly, that he perceived that 
 he, Mr. Quatty, was a gentleman and a scholar. It is not 
 improbable that Mr. Quatty had made a hundred efforts to 
 speak, and every time he had begun with these facts ; but 
 somehow he always broke down almost immediately after 
 stating them, whereas he had always regarded them in theory 
 as but the safe beginning of the rousing address he intended 
 to make. " I was once," he now rehearsed, " an oysterman, 
 that I've got pat ; then that man, and how I said that I was 
 not a gentleman and a scholar, pat as you please. Now, 
 here is just where I begin to break down : it's the weak place 
 in the harness. I must have something strong to say exactly 
 there. Can't you stop your stamping and pawing? Whoa, 
 I say ! Let me see, let me see." At this juncture a sea- 
 gull swooped by, and so near the heads of his pair, that, 
 eager for the least pretext to do so, they started off on a run, 
 jerking the reins out of their driver's hands. There was not 
 much danger, seeing that the ocean was on one side of the 
 beach, and that the sand was heaped up twenty feet high on 
 the other. The horses, however, were, as well as their driver, 
 full of life, and put such soul as they, too, possessed into their 
 heels. Mr. Quatty had been run away with, who can say 
 how many times ? in his life, and was before long master again 
 of the situation ; but when he had his horses standing still 
 once more, and all in a foam, it was miles further along the 
 beach, and all his preparations up to that point in his address 
 had to be gone over again. 
 
 " Yah, you beauties ! " he said to his horses as they 
 struggled once more against the long and sinewy arm which 
 held them in : " you upset my speech, that is all. You would, 
 would you ? I only wish I may run away with that hall full
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 195 
 
 of people to-night the same way. Yes ; and I can do it if 
 nobody interrupts. If I can get to going, that is all I ask ; 
 to get under a good head of steam, to get into the rush of 
 the thing. Now, what next? Just at that weak place I'll 
 have something as strong as I can fix it, smart and strong to 
 keep me from stopping one moment. Let me see ; " and he 
 meditated deeply, with his head down, but with no result. " If 
 you only could 'be still one moment ! " he ejaculated to his ani- 
 mals. " It is that, it is the interruption, that halts me ; and all 
 I need is to get into a good headway. Let me see," and his 
 eye fell on a crab burrowing in the heaped-up mounds of sand 
 on his left. " Exactly ! " he exclaimed : "yes, I see ; I'll illus- 
 trate that way, how a fellow burrows in the dirt when he 
 drinks and gambles, and such like. I can bring in the hard 
 shell and the claws, as sure as you live. That's good : they'll 
 understand that! Get up : I'll see something else ; " and Mr. 
 Quatty revolved his illustration over and over as his horses 
 trotted rapidly along against a tight rein, the driver deep in 
 thought. 
 
 Suddenly they shied to one side ; and only by sheer 
 strength could Mr. Quatty hold them in, rearing and plun- 
 ging. Lying right across their way on the smooth hard beach, 
 its head downward, and still tossed as to the matted hair by 
 the receding tide, was the body of a drowned sailor. It 
 had evidently been washed up by the heavy surf of the night 
 before, and it was not the first time Mr. Quatty had come on 
 such a sight along that beach : he held his struggling horses 
 in as he considered matters. Life had long been extinct. 
 The glazed eyes were staring at the sky ; the brawny and 
 tattooed breast was all bare to the day ; the ineffectual arms, 
 pictured over even to the tips of the fingers with anchors 
 and crosses and hearts, were spread out in dumb appeal on 
 either side, still being lifted and let fall by the ebb and flow 
 of the retiring sea. 
 
 " Poor fellow ; but you ain't the first," said Mr. Quatty,
 
 196 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " nor will you be the last. I'll drive right back, and send 
 out the coroner," and he turned his horses suddenly around. 
 "Hold up!" he exclaimed with excitement as he did so: 
 " it's a providence has pitched you into the very outset of my 
 speech. Why, it's the grandest sort of an idea ! A man, 
 dear friends," and Mr. Quatty transferred the reins from his 
 right hand to his left, and extended his long arm to an 
 imaginary audience, " a mortal man once as full of life and 
 deviltry, I dessay, as any of you, and now behold Oh ! 
 I have got the idea. I am sorry for you, but glad for my 
 speech. Yes," he added, shaking his fist at the buzzards 
 slowly circling round and round overhead, " I'll put you in 
 too. Many and many a man of you," Mr. Quatty con- 
 tinued, returning to his audience with an inflation of his 
 voice into oratory, and a wave of his hand, " is a worse tur- 
 key-buzzard, a-circling and a-swooping every day round and 
 round many a poor sailor in our harbor ! Oh, but I'll make 
 your feathers fly to-night ! " Mr. Quatty added with another 
 shake of his fist, this time at those of whom the birds of 
 prey were but a type. "G'lang, boys ! " he added to his 
 horse ; and, as they gladly sped homeward, " I'll hold on to 
 what I've got, and go for the coroner. Get up, will you ! " 
 
 It was dinner-time before he had despatched the legal offi- 
 cer and his jury in a wagon from his stable, quite a jolly 
 set as they drove off. Through all these arrangements, as 
 well as during the hasty meal which followed, Mr. Quatty 
 clung closely to so much of his address as he had accumu- 
 lated thus far, his enthusiasm greatly quickened by the events 
 of the morning, as well as by the posters of the night's 
 meeting which he could not help seeing as they blazed upon 
 every wall. " O Phip, Phip, I would not ! " his wife, holding 
 to his arm as he rose from the table, continued to urge. 
 " The people are only making game of you. Please don't ! 
 The children have had ever so many fights with boys about it 
 to-day already, and you so sensible a man in every thing else : 
 don't make a fool of yourself, Phip, please don't."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 197 
 
 " Sally," her husband said, " it's because you don't under- 
 stand. Look here ! you think it will be only my having 
 been an oysterman. I tell you ! why, I've got plenty of 
 new ideas to-day, splendid ideas ! all I want to do is to 
 do good, and you know it. Somebody must talk to these 
 people, and who else is even trying to? You might have 
 stopped me this morning, but I wouldn't give up making 
 that speech now for the best horse in America. Just you 
 wait," and he was gone : it was to get a fresh pair of horses, 
 and drive along the beach in the direction opposite to that 
 of the morning. " All I want is to have no interruptions. 
 Once let me get fairly to going," he said again, " and all the 
 fear is, I'll never be able to stop. An engine, let alone a 
 horse or a man, goes better after it gets warm to its work. 
 Let me see, oysterman not gentleman and scholar crabs 
 buzzards no, hold up, the dead man comes before that ; 
 and now, what after that ? " Mr. Quatty reined in beside 
 the surf, and meditated, " Why, here's the sea, rolling and 
 rolling. Whoa, hold up ! And there is the blue sky too, 
 and plenty of stars ; yes," he continued with enthusiasm, 
 " and the wind too, blowing, blowing. Can't you be still, 
 you fools?" to his impatient horses. " It's a splendid idea ;" 
 and, looking carefully around to be sure that nothing but sea 
 and sand were in sight, he stood up, for he was now using 
 an open wagon, and, holding his reins with one hand, he 
 extended the other. 
 
 " Fellow-citizens ! I am here to-night never mind about 
 oysters scholar degraded vermin wallowing in the sand 
 mud, I mean worse than that, swooping down on car- 
 rion wings no! why can't you remember to have the dead 
 man in first ? a something to swoop on ! never mind, 
 that'll all come right when I get into the rush of speaking 
 and, oh, friends ! the boundless booming sea, rolling in like 
 death, swallowing us all u " that will be grand, you bet ! 
 And ye tremendous winds" Mr. Quatty here held the
 
 198 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 reins firmly down under his foot, that he might use both 
 hands, and continued, " You powerful breezes which sweep 
 us all away, you whoa, hold up ! can't you hold up, you 
 brutes ! and this superior sky a-bending down from up 
 there oh, I'll get that in, you bet ! As also those clouds, 
 they are like our flimsy lives, you see. Ye float about, you 
 melting and fluffy things halloo, no, sir, fluffy won't do. 
 Never mind, when I once get fairly a-going, those little things 
 will fix themselves. And O ye you what else ? " 
 
 Mr. Quatty stood with extended arms, the honest soul of 
 the man in his eyes and tones and long hands sweeping around 
 him, in the bursts of his oratory, like a windmill. The liv- 
 ery-stable keeper was not insane. He was surrounded every 
 day of his life by very bad men whom he was anxious to 
 turn from their gambling and drinking and other desperate 
 courses, in which some of them were being killed almost 
 every week. He had an abundance to say. His imagined 
 audience were people who never went into a church, " or, 
 if they did go," Mr. Quatty repeated as so often before, 
 "what good wpuld it do them? Preachers never say the 
 sort of things such people need ; or, if they do, they never 
 begin to say them half hard enough." If ever a soul was 
 driven, and as by its own fulness, to express itself, that soul 
 was Phip Quatty. He had a vast deal to say, and of more 
 pressing importance than Demosthenes before him, com- 
 peting with the sea-surf, ever dreamed of having : only the 
 impediment in his case was worse than in that of the orator 
 with the pebble in his mouth. Neither Whitefield, Chalmers, 
 Spurgeon, nor the rest, had a larger or sincerer heart to do 
 good ; nor did these know as much more as you might 
 suppose of that which was of practical value to say. The 
 trouble was, that somehow this lover of his kind had never 
 been able to say out to people the much that, he felt as sure 
 as he did of his own existence, he had to say. John Bun- 
 yan, the tinker, managed to write out his message to men ;
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 199 
 
 and Hans Sachs, the cobbler, succeeded in singing to the 
 listening world what he had in his soul for them : all that 
 Mr. Quatty wanted all along was a " fair show." He would 
 have it for the first time in his life in the hall that night, and 
 he would use it ! 
 
 Standing erect in his vehicle, his foot firmly pressed upon 
 the reins, he poured out for some time quite a torrent of 
 exhortation, denunciation, and entreaty in rehearsal. 
 
 " Ye hard-headed and harder- hearted ones," he continued 
 with increasing vehemence, and, in the earnestness of his 
 appeal with both extended hands, forgetting the reins under 
 his foot, " you miserable men soaking yourselves along our 
 wharves with strychnine whiskey, awake, rouse out, get up ! " 
 It was said with such emphasis that his horses mistook 
 it for an address to them, and started forward with a bound. 
 The impassioned orator fell back into his seat ; and when at 
 last he had recovered the reins, he had his whole address to 
 go over again from the first. 
 
 When Mr. Quatty went to the hall at night, he was ex- 
 hausted as from the hardest day's work he had ever done. 
 But his flagging spirits revived when he forced his way 
 through the crowd, and stepped upon the platform. As he 
 did so, a band of music struck up. It was a most gratifying 
 surprise. The fact was, that the friends who had plastered 
 every wall in St. Jerome with the flaming posters had also 
 secured the best band in the city ; and it put its entire energy 
 into Hail Columbia as soon as he had taken his seat. The 
 attendance was enormous ; for it was a large hall, and every 
 seat and standing-place was occupied. A doubt held the 
 crowd as to the exact nature of the conduct to be pursued. 
 Was it a show, with Mr. Quatty as clown ? or was it indeed 
 a religious service, with that gentleman as the speaker ? The 
 large audience, made up almost wholly of men, chiefly of 
 men never seen at church, oscillated as upon an edge, 
 somewhat more ready, however, to laugh than to weep ; but
 
 2OO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 every man present had the sincerest liking for the orator of 
 the hour. 
 
 "Now, Quatty," that gentleman kept saying to himself, 
 " you keep cool, hold a tight rein, don't get flurried : it's 
 only like driving a big team. Be slow and steady until you 
 get to going. As soon as you do get going, get fairly started, 
 get into a rush, you let yourself out. Never mind how long 
 you speak : you let her go, and somehow you'll come out 
 all right ! Don't forget, now. Oysterman scholar buz- 
 zards no, crabs you fool, it's the drowned man first 
 all right wind flowing forever and ev no, sir., the sea 
 comes first, rolling and rolling the splendid sun. The 
 sun? Oh, never mind, I'll get something to fix with that ; " 
 and under his anxious exterior Mr. Quatty conned his list 
 of ideas over and over again, until the brass-band had ex- 
 hausted the national air. With the silence which followed, 
 the orator of the hour stepped forward to the front of the 
 platform. In the uncertainty as to whether it was a show or 
 a church, the audience sat still, ready for any thing. Now, 
 a little to one side in front of the platform was seated 
 Mr. Fanthorp, who was universally known, as has been said 
 before, by the cognomen of Farce Fanthorp by reason of 
 his unwearying fondness for " a little fun ; " a fondness which 
 he indulged by the equally unwearying manufacture of that 
 article when it was lacking ; the essence and success of his 
 jocularity consisting in the gravity of his countenance 
 through it all. Men began to laugh and to look out for a 
 joke at the very sight of the man ; but Mr. Quatty, although 
 he recognized him from the first as well as all along, was too 
 much absorbed in his speech to remember that it was Farce 
 Fanthorp. The moment the orator stepped forward, the 
 lawyer began, with eyes kindling with enthusiasm and with 
 the most serious of faces, to applaud ; and the entire audience 
 accepted the suggestion with enthusiastic delight. It was 
 some time before Mr. Quatty could get a hearing above the 
 pounding of feet and the clapping of hands.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2OI 
 
 "My friends," he began at last with extended hand, 
 " your humble speaker was once an oysterman. You may 
 be surprised, but so it is. I made my living by dredging 
 for oysters" 
 
 "Clams?" 
 
 The question was put by Mr. Fanthorp, from his seat 
 among the people, in clear but respectful tones : evidently 
 his only object was to know. 
 
 " Occasionally, yes, sir," Mr. Quatty replied, turning his 
 honest face in the direction of the questioner. " Yes, fellow- 
 citizens," he continued, again extending his oratorical hand : 
 "little as you may think it, I was once nothing but an 
 oysterman" 
 
 "Crabs?" 
 
 Nothing could be more respectful than the question. The 
 serious aspect of Mr. Fanthorp showed that his sole desire 
 was to be thoroughly informed. 
 
 " Very rarely," the speaker replied, with the utmost can- 
 dor. " But I haven't got to crabs yet. Once I was an oys- 
 terman, gentlemen," Mr. Quatty continued, again lifting his 
 hand which he had let fall in replying to his questioner. 
 " I am ashamed to say that I used to lie and even to steal " 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 " It is impossible for me to state exactly," the orator con- 
 tinued in reply to the question, again letting his hand fall. 
 " Also, I blush to say, I was in the habit of drinking, O 
 friends ! I used to keep a demijohn buried in the sand near 
 by, and drink and drink almost to the destruction of my 
 imperishable " 
 
 "Rifle, or bald-face?" 
 
 "Rifle, bald-face, rum, gin, all sorts of liquors," Mr. 
 Quatty hastened to say. " As bad a man I was as the best 
 man here, I mean the very worst. And I used to quarrel and 
 squabble and fight. One occasion I will never forget. I 
 had had it rough-and-tumble with a gambler. ^Ve fought "
 
 2O2 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Fetch him?" the question was asked by some one in 
 a distant part of the hall, who had taken his cue from Mr. 
 Fanthorp, with grave uneasiness. 
 
 " No, sir ! I'm glad to say I did not fetch him : I never 
 used any thing but my fists. And, O my friends ! it was 
 a happy thing for me," the speaker continued, evidently with 
 an effort, " when one day a stranger came along ; I was 
 dredging Asters in the flats : he stood looking on for a while, 
 and we passed the compliments of the day. Says he at 
 last, ' Sir, under your rude garb I see that you are a gentle- 
 man and a scholar; ' which, my friends, I am not! " 
 
 Mr. Quatty seemed refreshed by the energy with which 
 he said it, and still more by the applause with which the 
 denial was received; and launched out with much vigor 
 into a detail of the conversation which followed between 
 the stranger and himself. "Yes, sir," he added at last, 
 " that man was was I lack power to say what that 
 man was I mean to me. O my fellow-citizens ! to me 
 he was" and Mr. Quatty stood, overflowing with grati- 
 tude, his hands clasped together and lifted up, his eyes 
 searching slowly over the audience as if for the strongest 
 word to be had, " I wish I could say what he was : to me 
 he was" 
 
 "A peddler?" 
 
 The suggestion came very loud from the back of the hall. 
 
 " No, sir, not at all," the speaker said with entire frank- 
 ness, but fallen suddenly from his fervor. " Not much, not 
 at all ; no, sir, he was nothing of the kind whatever ! " but 
 Mr. Quatty was compelled to give way for quite a time to 
 the laughter and applause which followed. The trouble with 
 the speaker was not in the interruptions alone, but that they 
 constrained him to change, and so suddenly, from the inflat- 
 ed tones wherein, as he firmly believed, all oratory lay. 
 There was a sudden resumption of the specie payment of 
 ordinary language, which was very unpleasant. He was not
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 20$ 
 
 the man, however, to yield as yet, especially as he had the 
 leading incident of the morning's ride still in reserve ; and 
 he made another and more earnest effort. 
 
 " My friends," he began again with outstretched arms, as 
 the crowded room became comparatively quiet, "what is 
 life ? It was this very day it happened. I was driving up 
 the beach; yes, this very day I beheld a fellow-creature 
 lying all prostrate upon the cold, cold ground ! " Mr. Quat- 
 ty had practised this part of his address, standing up in his 
 vehicle, a good deal, and rallied his waning energies upon 
 it. " A fellow-creature, a sailor like a good many of you, 
 lying on the cold, wet beach ! One a few hours before," in 
 slow and solemn tones, " as full of life as any one of you all, 
 perhaps not a quarter as bad ; and there " the orator add- 
 ed, recoiling as from the sight, and holding out a horror- 
 stricken hand over the drowned man lying at his feet, " there 
 he lay," in low, sepulchral tones : " yes, friends, there that 
 sailor-man lay dead dead " 
 
 "Drunk?" 
 
 The question was put by some one near the platform, and 
 was unheard by the audience. 
 
 " No, sir, he was not drunk! " Mr. Quatty said it with 
 such indignant energy as to bring down the house in peals 
 of laughter. 
 
 "I had intended," the speaker continued, rising in his 
 wrath above the uproar, and dropping all oratorical tone 
 and gesture entirely, "I had intended to make a good, 
 long, rousing speech to you," he shouted with voice and 
 manner exactly as when calling to his friends along the 
 streets, or when the wharves were crowded on the arrival of 
 a steamer. " If I could only have got a fair start, if I had 
 only got to going, into the rush of the thing, I could have 
 done it," he continued in his most natural manner. " You 
 fellows need it ; if ever a set of men need it, you do ! I 
 intended telling you about how you are like vermin burrow-
 
 2O4 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 ing in the sand, and like turkey-buzzards ; was going to tell 
 you about the rolling sea, and the rushing sky, I mean 
 wind, but it does not matter now. If ever," the exasper- 
 ated orator continued, shaking what looked very much like 
 a fist at his audience, " if ever I make, or try to make, 
 another speech No, sir, I never will again as long as I 
 live, so help me Heaven ! " As he said it, Mr. Quatty turned 
 to take his seat, surprised, even in his wrath, at the sudden 
 silence, the slackening at least of their laughter, which had 
 fallen on the people. It was explained when he saw that 
 Mr. Venable had stepped upon the platform, and was stand- 
 ing at one side waiting for him to get through. By a 
 mutual movement the two men shook cordial hands as if hi 
 ratification of the pledge just given ; and the audience gave 
 way to hearty and good-humored applause as well as laugh- 
 ter at the sight. 
 
 " Friends," Mr. Venable said, laughing, and holding up a 
 hand for silence, " our esteemed fellow-citizen is greatly 
 obliged to you for your attendance here to-night. We all 
 know Mr. Quatty, and we all like him. Why, only this 
 very day I heard of a generous act of his to a poor widow 
 with a large and needy family ; " and Mr. Quatty's pastor 
 proceeded to tell of it. And that suggested another deed 
 of kindness on the part of the ex-speaker to some one else, 
 even more liberal ; and that, another still. By virtue of the 
 simple narration of the facts, the audience were laughing 
 and in tears alternately. 
 
 " Now, we ah 1 know," Mr. Venable said at last, " that for 
 one real, sterling, honest man who does what is generous and 
 noble, there are a thousand who can make speeches glibly 
 enough. It is the man we respect, not the flippant talker. 
 You all know what Burns says ; " and Mr. Venable, who had 
 the lines at his tongue's end, repeated the whole poem, " A 
 man's a man for a' that," with all his energy and pathos. 
 As he sat down, Mr. Fanthorp sprang upon the platform, and
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2O5 
 
 proposed three cheers for Mr. Quatty. They were given 
 with a will, the audience rising to do so more effectively ; 
 and then, to the music of the Star-Spangled Banner per- 
 formed with unusual power by the band in attendance, the 
 large congregation slowly dispersed, quite a number linger- 
 ing behind to shake Mr. Quatty cordially by the hand. 
 
 Although that gentleman never again tried to speak in 
 public, as an orator at least, somehow he felt that he had 
 made a grand success of it in his last attempt to do so.
 
 2O6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A NIGHT ON BOARD THE BAYOU-BOAT. 
 
 GEN. BUTTOLPH, his daughters and their brother 
 Grit, Mr. Venable, and Mr. Fanthorp, stood upon the 
 deck of the bayou-boat Magnolia a few days after Mr. 
 Quatty's oratorical effort. The sun was slowly sinking into 
 the sea as they thus set out upon their visit to the gen- 
 eral's plantation. Of all of them Mr. Venable was most 
 eager to go. Since he had come to St. Jerome, and of late 
 especially, he had done the hardest work he had ever 
 attempted ; and he enjoyed a change. 
 
 "How are you, sir?" he said to Mr. Quatty, who came 
 on board to bid him good-by. " Yonder is the old Nautilus." 
 
 "Yes, she keeps afloat still," Mr. Quatty said. "Sea- 
 going men say the Flying Dutchman is not to be mentioned 
 alongside her. Bets run ten to one every trip, against her 
 coming again next time. Why, sir," Phip Quatty continued, 
 " there's sporting men that go on her as a regular thing, bet- 
 ting heavy odds against surviving. Life-preservers thrown 
 in, too, at their own risk. That boat is a sort of roulette 
 ball, if you understand gambling, sir, a something always on 
 the move, and sure to go down next time. I gambled like 
 sixty when I was an oysterman, and it takes all the religion 
 I have to keep from betting on her. But there's your bell. 
 I'll remind them to remember you Wednesday night at 
 prayer-meeting ; " and Mr. Quatty parted from his friend with
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2O/ 
 
 the usual cordial grasp of his hand. There was a sort of 
 physical magnetism which drew the two together, a supply 
 and demand, each of what he did not himself possess in the 
 other, which made the man of horses love his pastor only 
 less than his own wife, while the scholarly minister preferred 
 Mr. Quatty decidedly to Commodore Grandheur, Mr. No- 
 gens, Col. Roland, and a dozen beside. 
 
 Next to Mr. Quatty, Mr. Venable liked Capt. Chaffin and 
 Mr. Parsons. As to Mr. Fanthorp, very rarely indeed did he 
 go to church. If he did so more of late than formerly, it 
 was because of Miss Irene. To Mr. Venable, after his long 
 and steady work in his study, as well as among the poor and 
 suffering, the jocose lawyer was of medicinal value as an al- 
 terative. He deplored the fact that the other was as desti- 
 tute of the religious faculty as Charlie Chaffingsby of intellect ; 
 and yet, after his own long-continued devotion to things 
 spiritual, there was in Mr. Fanthorp the variety at least of a 
 fiddle after the solemn thunders of an organ, and he was 
 glad that he was to accompany them. 
 
 As the Magnolia steamed away from the wharf, Mr. Fan- 
 thorp beckoned him to go with him down stairs. 
 
 " I want you to see," he said. 
 
 "To see what?" the other asked, on his guard against 
 some practical joke ; but following him down and toward 
 the rear of the vessel. " There ! " Mr. Fanthorp said ; and 
 he pointed to the mulatto woman, Iphigenia, seated on the 
 deck near the furnace-wood, a bright-colored handkerchief 
 tied about her head, her hands lying listlessly in her lap, her 
 complexion like a film of ashes over a coal of fire. 
 
 "What of her?" he asked; adding, "that is only Iphi- 
 genia. She belongs to the general. He bought her when 
 he was on after his daughters. She came over with us in 
 the Nautilus. What about her?" with a smile ready upon 
 his lips for Mr. Fanthorp's joke, whatever it might be. 
 
 "She is going with us to the plantation," the other said, 
 looking steadily in Mr. Venable 's eyes.
 
 2O8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Well, what of that?" the other demanded. 
 
 Mr. Fanthorp rubbed his hand impatiently over his chin, 
 looking at the other with curiosity, and added, 
 
 " What do you think of Gen. Buttolph ? " 
 
 " Gen. Buttolph ! Why do you ask ? I think what we 
 all think," Mr. Venable said, "that he is as liberal as he 
 is wealthy; a warm-hearted, noble-minded, excellent man 
 in every sense of the word. An indulgent father, possibly 
 an indolent man : you know how large and heavy he is." 
 Yet his heart sank within him as he said it ; for the words of 
 old Plenty, as well as certain things he had seen of late, 
 had filled him with painful doubt. 
 
 Mr. Fanthorp had ceased rubbing his chin, and, with his 
 hand arrested in the act, was looking at him with his eyes 
 drawn together as if he were near-sighted and wished to 
 make sure that the other meant what he said. 
 
 " Well ! " he remarked at last. And then, " You will 
 excuse me, sir, but " and he uttered an oath, with delib- 
 erate intention, as if before the judge on the bench. As 
 they walked away, he stopped and held the other a moment 
 by the arm. 
 
 " I have heard of the heavenly innocence of you preach- 
 ers," Mr. Fanthorp said, as he released his arm. "Lamb- 
 like ! Well, may I be" and with a silent gesture he 
 gravely consigned himself to perdition. "Why, how," he 
 added, turning almost fiercely upon the other, "do you 
 hope to grapple with and lift men out of their boots, and 
 whirl them around in their tracks, and yet remain as ignor- 
 ant of the people next you as a baby? No wonder you 
 rove among the flowers and purling brooks : sheep always 
 do. I like you, sir," the swarthy little man said, " but you 
 are as utterly ignorant of men as as Capt. Chaffin's Clara ! 
 Excuse me ! " and he was gone. 
 
 Mr. Venable would have been less surprised, if the words 
 had not found instant confirmation in himself. " But is it
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2(X) 
 
 my fault," he said to himself as he went up-stairs again, 
 "when intimate friends in the church, the very officers 
 appointed to aid me in my work, never tell me ? People 
 always show at their best before me, as if I were a lady. 
 Where do I ever see them except in church, or parlor, or 
 when they are sick or dying? The instant I come near 
 them, they put on, from head to foot, their Sunday-go-to- 
 meeting manners. Their very smiles and tones are sab- 
 batical with me. As Heaven helps me," he added, " I will 
 try hereafter to know people. They cannot be harder than 
 Hebrew or Greek. But there's the gong for supper;" for 
 he was glad to escape from further thought just then. 
 
 The supper-gong ! Ever since he reached St. Jerome he 
 had heard of the suppers of the Magnolia. Mr. Fanthorp 
 had already pointed out to him among the passengers this 
 old judge, and that venerable and fat major, and the other 
 colonel, as people who, having nothing in particular to do, 
 lived on the boat, journeying up and down almost every trip 
 expressly to eat those celebrated suppers. Nor did he won- 
 der when he assisted them on that occasion. It evidently 
 was an occasion. The negro waiters from the head stew- 
 ard, stationed as high-priest at the separate table upon which 
 every dish was placed before it was served, down to the 
 least yellow boy showed by the solemnity of their aspect 
 how portentous was the feast. There was no hurry here ; 
 nor was there any confusion or mistake as to seats, any 
 more than at church. People expectantly waited the sig- 
 nal, lingering near their chairs at the table, peeping out of 
 their staterooms on either side. Not one but was comfort- 
 ably located at the board before the gong had ceased its 
 thunder. A sumptuous repast it was. If any thing could 
 have been added as to quantity, variety, quality, cookery, 
 Mr. Venable, at least, could not imagine it. 
 
 But he had no appetite, none the less, and withdrew to 
 the " guards " outside the cabin as soon as he could. Sit-
 
 2IO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 ting thereupon in his arm-chair, he was conscious, as night 
 fell, that Mr. Fanthorp was beside him, cigar in mouth. 
 The boat was steaming steadily up the bay. Nothing but 
 the sea was in sight, except low-lying reefs of sand in the 
 distance toward the north. Even the volatile lawyer ap- 
 peared to be subdued by the silence which was part of the 
 sluggishness of the scene surrounding them. But Mr. Fan- 
 thorp was not one to remain long silent. 
 
 " I wanted to apologize for my profanity," he said at last ; 
 " but, frankly, I could not help it. You should not astonish 
 a man so, Mr. Venable. Before a lady and a clergyman, 
 swearing is improper. May I ask you another question?" 
 he added, after quite a silence. " Do you know Gov. Ma- 
 gruder, who sat beside Miss Zeo at table ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I was introduced to him at Gen. Buttolph's 
 house," Mr. Venable said, with some reserve of manner. 
 " A very handsome man he is ; and wealthy, I am told." 
 
 " He has not been at the general's often ? " the other 
 asked. . 
 
 " I really cannot say. He calls when he comes down 
 from his plantation. His visits are usually in the morning, 
 when I am at my studies. He has . dined there several 
 times. They have often spoken of him. His popular man- 
 ners were the only special impression he made on me. 
 Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I wanted to justify my profanity," Mr. Fanthorp said, 
 " by showing you, Mr. Venable, how astonishingly ignorant 
 I mean innocent beg pardon you are. This trip 
 was arranged, sir, with reference to the matter. Gov. 
 Magruder and Miss Zeo Buttolph are to be married in the 
 spring. His plantation joins the general's. It is a splen- 
 did match. Miss Zeo has solidity and thorough excellence, 
 as well as beauty ; but Miss Irene will you allow me to 
 ask what you think of her? " Mr. Fanthorp little knew how 
 terribly his news smote upon the heart of the other ; but he 
 mastered himself, and replied,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 211 
 
 " I think what everybody thinks. She is a very intelligent 
 and brilliant woman. I have rarely known one of more 
 original and independent opinions." 
 
 "What a fine performer she is!" the other remarked, 
 " and it seems to me as if she had read every thing. I dare 
 say at home, you know, out of company, she is very affec- 
 tionate. A devoted daughter and sister?" Mr. Fanthorp 
 rather asked it than gave it as his own opinion, somewhat 
 anxiously too, and examined the face of his friend keenly 
 under cover of his cigar-smoke as he said it. Mr. Venable 
 assented, but did not seem disposed to pursue the subject. 
 
 " He was the grandest rascal ! " Mr. Fanthorp added 
 irrelevantly, after a long silence. " Do you know that scoun- 
 drel has gouged I suppose you know what that means? 
 the general out of thousands of dollars? A scoundrel is 
 invariably a fool. Although," he added with sudden droll- 
 ery of manner, " a fool is not necessarily a scoundrel ; now 
 is he, sir?" He asked it very innocently, but the other 
 colored and remained silent. This was Farce Fanthorp, 
 he remembered. 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking? " he said at last. 
 
 " Gen. Buttolph's overseer. I thought you knew," the 
 other replied, opening wide his eyes. " It was extremely 
 reprehensible," he continued solemnly; and Mr. Venable 
 felt rather than saw that his companion had fallen into his 
 old trick of mimicking the one he conversed with. "I 
 refer to the overseer. I speak with regret of the procedure 
 adopted to make him disgorge. I am a saint, and would 
 do nothing illegal for the world. I am exceedingly careful to 
 know nothing whatever about it, as a saint : as an ordi- 
 nary individual, I am aware that he is held in the hands 
 of Judge Lynch until he settles up. The peculiarity of that 
 court, beloved brethren, lies in this," Mr. Fanthorp added, 
 as if from the pulpit, " that no lawyer is allowed, nor, alas ! 
 is the gospel or habeas corpus recognized. Yes, we are in
 
 212 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the bayou at last." He added this in his own manner, his 
 cigar being struck from his mouth, as he spoke, by the leafy 
 bough of a tree upon the bank. 
 
 Sure enough, they had left the open bay, and had entered 
 by this time what seemed to be a mere ditch, barely wide 
 enough for the steamer to make its way amid the overhang- 
 ing forest. There was water enough between the steep 
 banks to float a man-of-war; but the bayou coiled and 
 turned on itself, so that the night was spent, as the vessel 
 steamed slowly along, in a series of bumps, now on one side 
 and then on the other ; now a shock as the bow ran into 
 the bank, and then a jar more violent as the stem crashed 
 against a tree, the steamer going ahead and backing, with 
 the almost continuous brushing of the boughs of dense foli- 
 age upon sides and roof. 
 
 " You get splendid shots at alligators if you stand on the 
 bow," Mr. Fanthorp said. " Look here ! " As he spoke, 
 he seized with a quick grasp a projecting bough, broke it off, 
 and handed it to his friend. It was a magnolia-branch, 
 laden with the glossy leaves and superb flowers of that tree. 
 The air had long been burdened by the overpowering per- 
 fume ; and, as the boat urged its way along, the banks in an 
 arm's length on either side seemed a wall of magnolia leaves 
 and flowers, towering up and meeting overhead. It was 
 an experience to the new-comer as if out of the Arabian 
 Nights. 
 
 All the more so, as Mr. Fanthorp took occasion, as they 
 sat, to reveal to him pretty much every thing concerning 
 which he had been almost guiltily ignorant. The lawyer kept 
 back nothing, the desperate condition of the general's 
 finances, and the control Zeo had assumed, since her return, 
 of the household economy ; the " devil of a chap " Grit had 
 been, as Mr. Fanthorp phrased it, and the influence she had 
 secured over him. Nearly everybody, he said, knew of her 
 father's secret drinking; but the lawyer had contrived in
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 213 
 
 some way to learn of his daughter's determined efforts to 
 save him, and imparted all he knew ; while the boat pursued 
 its way. 
 
 " As to that other matter," he continued, lighting another 
 cigar, " that, of course ! I don't look at it as you do. But 
 Col. Roland is a wire-working rascal, and the governor is a 
 first-class fool ; and their plans are something worth talking 
 about," and he did so at length. 
 
 " It happens very well," he added at last. " Old Ugly is 
 rich, and it will be a help to her father. She will make him 
 a good wife. The governor has been a great scamp : but 
 he is desperately in love with her. It is the first time he 
 ever did really love a woman. It is all settled ; they will be 
 married ; you will get a big fee, Mr. Venable, in gold, sir ! 
 I'm willing. But that rascal Roland is trying to marry Miss 
 Irene : I'll break his neck first ! Did she tell you about the 
 ridiculous verses she got? No? That's a wonder. You 
 see, I wrote them in his style, and in his hand, signed his 
 name to them, and sent them to her, best thing I ever did. 
 If you will excuse me, I'll see if I can't find her somewhere ; 
 and if you'll sail in and cut Magruder out, Mr. Venable, 
 I'll remember you in my will : merely for the devilment of 
 it, you know. You'll find them on the guards." 
 
 Once or twice after that, Mr. Venable tried to join the 
 ladies. It was in vain. Mr. Fanthorp had possession now 
 of, and was laughing with, Irene at the piano ; and he blun- 
 dered next, it was so dark, against Gov. Magruder shielding 
 Miss Zeo upon the guards against the sweeping foliage, as he 
 made a desperate effort to converse with her. As to Gen. 
 Buttolph, taking advantage of the way in which the governor 
 had drawn off his daughter, he had immediately after sup- 
 per locked himself up in his stateroom. 
 
 Mr. Venable did not enter his room that night, although 
 he wanted to be alone ; Grit kept him close company during 
 most of it, as he wandered about the boat. At last they
 
 214 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 stood together at the stern. With a firm grasp upon Grit 
 (who had become greatly attached to him), lest he should 
 fall overboard, he wondered at the way in which, as they 
 advanced, the dense foliage and the denser darkness closed 
 upon them behind. Then, inducing his companion to go 
 to bed, he climbed upon the top of the vessel, and lay upon 
 his back watching the volumes of smoke and sparks rolling 
 above him from the chimneys, grasping at the magnolia 
 leaves and flowers meeting overhead, and almost touching 
 his face as he lay. The pulsation of the engines as they 
 compelled the vessel on its course, and the sharp cough of 
 the escape-pipes, made a sort of rhythm, the boat jarring now 
 upon one side and then upon the other, now at the stem, and 
 then at the stern, as it forced its way along. 
 
 " I never loved a woman in my life," he communed with 
 himself, " until I knew her, and I began to do that from the 
 moment I saw her. She drew me to her by her silent and 
 beautiful strength. If the governor has a power of attrac- 
 tion, why should not she have, and as much stronger than 
 his as it is purer? Gov. Magruder ! " 
 
 When the family had come aboard the Magnolia, he had 
 stepped forward to help her up the gangway ; but that gentle- 
 man had interposed in a nervous manner. " Excuse me, Mr. 
 Venable," he had said very politely: "you must let me do 
 that, you know ! " 
 
 " No wonder she prefers him," he groaned now : " he is 
 so light-hearted, so free from care ! It is a relaxation to 
 hear him laugh. He must be a relief to her under the 
 strain of her duty. But I can't help it. I must go on lov- 
 ing her, as I must go on hoping. Her sister has intellect ; 
 but her beauty is deeper still, of the heart, of the soul. Her 
 smiles are more than her sister's laughter, the little she says 
 than all Irene's sparkling talk. To think I should have lived 
 in their house so long, and have learned only of late what it 
 was in her which attracted and held me even when I under- 
 stood it as little as I did !
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " Gov. Magruder, I have no more intention," he said at 
 last, and getting upon his feet as he said it, " of giving her 
 up to you, your Excellency, than I have of giving up my life." 
 And, going to the bow of the boat, he stood for hours look- 
 ing forward upon what seemed an impenetrable barrier 
 barring them back. Behind him as he stood, and projecting 
 from the deck on either side, were iron baskets filled with 
 blazing pine-knots : yet even when the light from these was 
 re-enforced by that of the furnace-doors thrown open, the 
 lurid glare played upon what appeared to be a compact 
 wall of earth and forest. Apparently it was madness to 
 press on. 
 
 " And yet," he said, " we do force our way through it. 
 My path is more hopelessly shut to me : none the less, I 
 also will press steadily on."
 
 2l6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT ALL THINGS AT A SUGAR-PLAN- 
 TATION ARE NOT NECESSARILY SWEET. 
 
 EARLY in the morning the Magnolia landed the party at 
 Gen. Buttolph's plantation, and passed on to Chema- 
 raw, the city higher up the bayou which was the rival of St. 
 Jerome. The house was a huge two-storied wooden building, 
 standing a hundred yards back from the high bluff, and sur- 
 rounded on all sides by an ample porch. It had not been 
 painted for a long time, and presented a mournful appear- 
 ance, overhung as it was also with gigantic live-oaks 
 bearded with gray and patriarchal moss. In front and on 
 either side had been flower-beds; but the only growths 
 remaining were masses of bear-grass, rows of bristling bay- 
 onet-plants, and every variety of the cactus, as well as the 
 invariable oleanders, ailanthus, and china-trees. Behind the 
 mansion, and a quarter of a mile away across the level fields, 
 were the negro-quarters, a village of log cabins in rows ; be- 
 hind them the vast shed-like structure and towering chimneys 
 of the sugar-mills ; the dense foliage of a cypress-swamp mak- 
 ing, in the distance, a background for it all. Although Mr. 
 Venable was of Southern birth, this was his first visit to a 
 sugar-plantation ; and, fresh from the excessive activities of a 
 colder climate, there was something not unpleasing to him 
 in the air of languor and neglect, in the drowsiness and mel- 
 ancholy even, which rested upon the whole scene.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 But his attention was diverted from this. As soon as the 
 party came together about the breakfast-table, it was plain 
 that something of importance was on hand. 
 
 An assumption of indifference upon the part of most of 
 those present was proof of that. Gen. Buttolph, however, 
 in cordial good-fellowship with every one, exerted himself 
 beyond his wont to entertain Gov. Magruder, who seemed 
 least at his ease of all. Almost wholly uneducated, leav- 
 ing all the governing to Col. Roland, his Excellency had 
 been simply the best fellow going, himself the j oiliest of the 
 jolly crowd which constituted the majority of the Legisla- 
 ture, when it was in session. Mr. Venable had never 
 envied any one, not the grandest preacher he had ever 
 heard, as much as he did this florid-faced, black-bearded, 
 warm-handed man, whose sympathetic eyes seemed so 
 deeply interested in you and in all you said. 
 
 " Ah, if I had that magnetic power over men when out 
 of the pulpit," he had remarked to himself, the more he saw 
 of him, " what I said in it would have tenfold force." But 
 this envied man was shy and silent at breakfast, blundering 
 and awkward, on which account Irene Buttolph responded 
 the more eagerly to the witticisms of Mr. Fanthorp. Her 
 younger sister held, as usual, the head of the table opposite 
 her father. "The halo," Mr. Venable thought, "which 
 Mrs. Chaffingsby has painted, as if their hair was on fire, 
 about the heads of her characters, is not a myth. This 
 quiet girl wields such an influence, that even when she is 
 most passive its atmosphere is about her. His Excellency 
 is little more than a sort of perfectly good-humored leopard, 
 and he has an animal instinct of her strength : her eyes 
 embarrass him as those of a human being do even a lion. 
 But how will that help me? " 
 
 He could not but notice the plainness of her dress in 
 contrast with that of her sister. There was a home charm 
 to him in certain cuffs about her wrists, as she handed the
 
 2l8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 coffee ; in a species of snowy frill around her neck ; in the 
 way in which her face, sweet yet serious, was framed, so to 
 speak, in her plaited hair. 
 
 Grit hastened through his breakfast, and asked her permis- 
 sion to go to the mill, which Zeo granted on certain condi- 
 tions. 
 
 " The idea," Irene exclaimed, " of his asking anybody ! 
 I believe that you have absolutely bewitched that boy, Zeo. 
 He seems to have put his soul into your hands. He follows 
 you about, and minds you, more like a dog than a boy." All 
 that Zeo said in return but it was not said aloud was, 
 " O God, give me my father too ! I hardly hoped that God 
 could give Grit to me, he was so bad. Now that he has, I 
 know he will give me my father, I know it, I know it j " and 
 she was literally as happy as a queen, because she was one. 
 
 " They don't want us," Mr. Fanthorp said, as he and Mr. 
 Venable strolled out of the house after breakfast. " The 
 governor makes his formal proposition to-day. Any one 
 could tell that by the way he made a fool of himself just 
 now. That is the strangest thing about Magruder : he is the 
 life and soul of a crowd" until he gets on the stump. Once 
 up to make a speech, he hums and haws and blunders and 
 breaks down : he is worse at it than Phip Quatty. He knew 
 enough, at last, never to try again. The governor is a splen- 
 did fellow; but," added the lawyer in his droll manner, 
 " bless my soul, humph, ah ! 
 
 " Dearly beloved brethren," Mr. Fanthorp continued, with 
 an oratorical outspreading of his hands to an astonished 
 group of negro children in shirts and nothing else, before 
 whom he paused as they lounged along, " our friend the 
 ex-executive is rich, in fact, he owns boat-loads of you ; and 
 he is the j oiliest fellow breathing. But I must not, beloved, 
 can not, will not, soil the snowy purity of I look deeper 
 than your linen your souls, by intimating wherein that 
 individual is a sinner. The congregation is dismissed with
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2IQ 
 
 an urgent request to wash itself. Amen. Get out, you little 
 rascals ! " with a sudden spring among his dusky audience, 
 which scattered them with streaming shirt-tails to the winds. 
 
 " You will excuse my taking you off," he began. 
 " " It was not a bit like me," Mr. Venable said indignantly. 
 
 " You think not ? Well, never mind ; but I have two 
 excellent reasons for being in spirits to-day. One reason 
 lies that way : " the lawyer said it with a backward gesture 
 of his head to the house they were leaving. " The other 
 reason lies yonder," pointing toward the swamp bounding 
 the plantation in the rear. 
 
 " Did you ever read of Antigone? " his companion asked, 
 after a while, as they walked over the fields which were being 
 ploughed by gangs of negroes. 
 
 " Aunt Tiggony ? A relative of yours ? Oh ! you mean 
 some black aunty," Mr. Fan thorp said, with serious and 
 respectful manner. "Have I? Of course I did," he said, 
 growing serious by ceasing to be solemn. " At college," he 
 added. " Yes, Miss Zeo is that. But the marble grandeur 
 of the Greek girl leading about her miserable father, blind 
 and doomed, lay in her doing so not alone merely, but in 
 defiance of her gods. Medea, Alcestis, Electra, and the 
 rest are not to be compared to her." 
 
 " I am glad," the other said eagerly, " to know that you 
 are a scholar. Except Col. Roland, you are the first I have 
 met ; and he is so so " 
 
 "Perfectly a fool," Mr. Fanthorp supplemented. "To 
 think of a fellow at his years two hundred and fifty at 
 least sending bouquets and verses and making love to 
 young girls! That man," the lawyer added, "is the most 
 beautiful, yes, and powerful writer in the State. He does 
 very well in a parlor ; and yet he could not get a vote for a 
 State office, to save his life. The people have as little use 
 for him as they have for that silk- weed ; " and he pointed to 
 the plant so named, which was waving its glossy and abun-
 
 22O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 dant silk streamers about the decaying stumps and fallen 
 logs near by ; nothing more beautiful or more useless. 
 
 "What I wanted to say," his companion added, "was 
 that the Greek Cordelia for the Antigone is that is too 
 marble-like. I can imagine a woman, and a very young 
 woman, as much superior to Antigone as Christianity is to 
 Paganism. Imagine a mere girl caring in her loving weak- 
 ness for the soul of her wretched father, too, trying to save 
 him from deadlier foes than those of CEdipus " 
 
 "Excuse me," Mr. Fan thorp interrupted; "but bother 
 Antigone, and, if they will allow me," lifting his hat to them 
 in their absence, " the ladies also ! This, you see, is the 
 mill. It is nothing but a warehouse with tall chimneys, 
 huge kettles, furnaces, iron pipes, and the like. Yonder is 
 the press. That heap of white stuff is what is left of the 
 Begasse, the sugar-canes with the juice crushed out ; they 
 burn it for fuel, you know. Hallo, Plenty, come here ! " 
 
 They had entered the mill, and Mr. Venable recognized 
 young Plenty as he now approached them, his old grand- 
 father tottering behind him, feebler than ever. 
 
 "When the general it was Miss Zeo's doing put this 
 plantation in my hands," Mr. Fanthorp explained, " I ac- 
 cepted it on condition he gave me young Plenty as foreman. 
 He manages, and goes and comes between here and St. 
 Jerome. Have they got through, boy?" he asked signifi- 
 cantly. But the old negro had put himself between his 
 stalwart grandson and the speaker, and replied promptly, 
 
 " Hush up, child ! You hold your tongue ! Lemme talk 
 to the gentleman. Ah, dat's a missable business, Mars 
 Fanthorp. No, sah ; I wouldn't let him cowhide dat man. 
 I wouldn't let him, nebber, sah, nebber ! " and the old soul, 
 his trembling hand on his son's broad and naked shoulder, 
 drew himself up with a sort of decayed dignity, holding his 
 white head as erect as he could. 
 
 " They wanted him to do it ? That's too bad. But, you
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 221 
 
 old ghost, you bothersome old codger," the lawyer added, 
 " what business is it of yours ? " 
 
 " I is from Firginny, sah. Dis poor boy was only born in 
 St. Jerome." 
 
 "Look here," the lawyer said to Mr. Venable, "do you 
 see this great, strapping boy? He manages the two hun- 
 dred hands on this place. See what a head he has. Forty 
 years old he is too. I say, you ! " he added, turning 
 suddenly upon the man, "why do you let the old fellow 
 follow you about I know he only does it before the white 
 folks as if you were a baby? What do you mean?" he 
 asked, with an accent like the crack of a whip. 
 
 " Lor, massa ! " replied the younger negro, confronting 
 the lawyer, with a smile all over his face, " my Lor, massa, 
 as if you don't understand. He is my gran 1 fader ! " 
 
 " Go to thunder ! " Mr. Fanthorp said ; and, turning away 
 as he gave a key to the man who had spoken, he added, 
 " No spirits, Plenty (there's the smoke-house key) ; but you 
 may cut as much tobacco for you both as you like, a hogs- 
 head if you want, when I am gone. This way, Mr. Vena- 
 ble." So saying, his friend led his companion into the other 
 half of the huge warehouse. "Be careful," he said; for 
 there was no floor, the visitors having to step from joist to 
 joist upon which scores of hogsheads of sugar were stand- 
 ing, molasses dripping from each into a dirty lake of the 
 same below. " That is the sugar," he added. "This, when 
 it has gone through its chemistry, and been ladled into bar- 
 rels, is the sirup, and that is all. It does not look very nice, 
 and rats, mice, cockroaches, and yellow-jackets don't im- 
 prove it : anyhow, there is a mint of money in it, I tell you. 
 Now, I've got to go with Plenty here, and see to things. If 
 you want to learn a page in human nature " 
 
 " Excuse me," the other said to his quick- motioned, mer- 
 curial companion, " but what was it the old man would not 
 allow the other to do? Whip somebody, was it not? "
 
 222 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Whip somebody?" the lawyer exclaimed, with wide- 
 open eyes. " Whip ! Bless me, whom ? I haven't the 
 slightest idea. What a remarkable mistake ! But if you 
 would like to understand human nature do you see that 
 belt of live-oak?" pointing to the cypress- swamp which 
 bounded the sugar-field. " Go down there. You are not 
 armed ? Oh, of course not ! But, remember distinctly, I 
 don't know any thing about any thing in the world. Good- 
 by. Take care of yourself. I can't be always with you ; " 
 this last being the formula of parting current among jocose 
 people just then and there. 
 
 It was half an hour's walk, a tiresome one, over the newly- 
 ploughed ground and growing cane ; but Mr. Venable was not 
 sorry to be alone. His meditations were perplexing enough ; 
 and he was glad to have them scattered, as he walked, by a 
 sudden peal of laughter from the wood, toward which he 
 had now drawn near, the laughter of a crowd. 
 
 Halting a while, and then getting within the curtain of 
 hanging live-oak limbs draped with heavy moss, he came on 
 a sight which held him to the spot with horror. Twenty men 
 or more were seated or standing around a poor wretch, 
 whose face was from him, whose only clothing was his 
 trousers, and whose hands were tied behind him. It was 
 the overseer of whom Mr. Fanthorp had spoken ; and the 
 men composed the court of Judge Lynch, who was repre- 
 sented by a white-headed old reprobate seated upon what 
 appeared to be a pile of dirty boxes. The man had been 
 beaten severely, but this had failed to draw any confession 
 from him. A rope was around his neck, the other end 
 passed over the limb of a live-oak overhead, and held in 
 the hands of some of the men. By drawing him up until 
 almost strangled, and then lowering him, they had extorted 
 from the miserable man, and box by box, the hiding-place 
 of his plunder, which year after year he had buried in the 
 neighborhood of the spot upon which he was being tor-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 223 
 
 tured; for, with criminal indolence, the general had long 
 given over the plantation and its crops into his hands. 
 
 The intruder only saw a victim in the grasp of his cruel 
 enemies. One moment of horror, and then he was amazed 
 at the fury, as of a tiger, in him. At a bound this wild 
 beast suddenly born within him carried him among the men. 
 
 "You scoundrels," he found himself saying, his lips 
 parched, his wild hands clutching at the ropes which held 
 the prisoner, " how dare you ! " Every man had sprung to 
 his feet, no man without a rifle or revolver. There was a 
 moment's pause, while, still plucking at the ropes, he looked 
 at them with desperate face and as if in a dream. The men 
 were not regarding him so much as glancing over his head 
 and beyond for those who might be following. Then, to 
 his astonishment, there was a sudden, unanimous, and hearty 
 burst of laughter. He could see that every man of the rough 
 set of poor whites (for he knew they were that at a glance) 
 had sheathed his revolver again, or lowered his gun, and 
 was laughing with a sense of amusement too evidently 
 heart-felt not to be genuine. 
 
 " My friend," the intruder said, somewhat dampened as 
 well as bewildered, "who why what" and he laid 
 his hand upon the naked shoulders of the victim from be- 
 hind. 
 
 " Oh, get out ! Go along with you ! " the man yelled, with 
 a curse, snarling at him over his shoulder, and giving a 
 vicious kick at him backward. " If you had come before, it 
 would 'a' been some good ! Now," with a frightful oath, 
 " get out ! " Upon which there was another storm of laugh- 
 ter, which, it seemed to the new-comer, could have been 
 heard for miles. 
 
 " And now, boys," said the grizzly-headed old rascal who 
 seemed to be the leader, wiping the tears of mirth from his 
 eyes, " to conclude this here camp-meeting with a benedic- 
 tion, this here honorable Court orders that the pris'ner be 
 packed off on the Nautilus on her next trip."
 
 224 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "On the what! " roared the man. There was a horror 
 in his tones, a genuineness in his dismay, which brought 
 down the audience in another peal of laughter. 
 
 " Gentlemen," Judge Lynch said, when the fun had slack- 
 ened, " this overseer has had his voice, plenty of it, and 
 mighty loud it was, in these here proceedings. No man 
 wants his views about that old and highly-respected boat. 
 We've had to scare that money out of him, inch by inch to 
 the spot where he hid it, and dollar by dollar then. But 
 we've got it about all ; " and, to indicate the whereabouts of 
 the money, as he spoke he rose up and sat down again with 
 emphasis on the heap of boxes upon which he had been 
 seated, and which from their muddy appearance had evi- 
 dently been just dug up out of the earth. " Thousings on 
 thousings in here he had chiselled Gen. Buttolph out of, 
 going on for six years now, besides his other rascalities you 
 hearn him confess. Mind, the general don't know, and 
 Lawyer Fanthorp 'specially is not to know, any thing of all 
 this. Bundle him off until the committee can start. 'Nuf 
 said. If the prisoner will sing a hymn we'll be dismissed." 
 
 It was near dinner-time before Mr. Venable, hunting 
 everywhere for the lawyer, succeeded in finding him upon 
 the other side of the plantation. " It is so very much the 
 easiest way," that gentleman replied, at the close of their 
 conversation. "Of course I never dreamed of such an 
 outrage, knew nothing about it whatever ; but it saved years 
 of time, years on years of lawsuits, and one never gets the 
 money then. I tell you it was a haul" he added. "I 
 had no idea he had gone into the general to that extent ; " 
 for Mr. Venable had found the lawyer, when he did find 
 him at last, in conference with the leader of the lynchers. 
 "This sugar-making is all gambling, any way," he added. 
 " However, we've saved the general this time, anyhow. 
 But, bless you," with the face of a sabbath-school scholar, 
 " I knew nothing about it ! "
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 22$ 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 MR. VENABLE VIOLATES THE PROPRIETIES. 
 
 AS the successful manager of Gen. Buttolph's plantation, 
 Mr. Farce Fanthorp felt himself justified in the en- 
 joyment of unlimited fun among the whites, as he did of un- 
 bounded energy among the blacks. In his own estimation, 
 at least, his business qualification gave weight and authority 
 to his humor, as it certainly did a new license to his au- 
 dacity. 
 
 " As sure as you live," he remarked to Mr. Venable, the 
 day after the lynching, "Roland will come up from St. 
 Jerome very soon. He has become so used to controlling 
 Old Ugly, and Old Ugly has become so used to being con- 
 trolled, that, especially at this crisis, they cannot live apart. 
 How I hate him ! " 
 
 True enough, the colonel did arrive two days later, bring- 
 ing with him quite an odor of civilization in his toilet, his 
 poetry, and his devotion to the ladies. The instinctive aver- 
 sion between the lawyer and himself was intensified by their 
 rivalry in reference to Miss Irene. While the colonel de- 
 fended himself with contempt as with a shield, his enemy 
 resorted to his " buffoonery," as the other styled it, as natur- 
 ally as a wild-cat does to its claws or a fox to its cunning. 
 
 It was in vain that Col. Roland endeavored to make him- 
 self heard at the dinner-table. He had begun, for instance, 
 to speak of the hardness of the times, of the expedients tp
 
 226 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 which men had to resort in business, when his adversary 
 broke in, 
 
 " You are right, Roland, finance is the most intricate of 
 sciences. A few weeks ago I had given so largely to chari- 
 table objects as to be sadly reduced. I could not help my- 
 self from the public treasury as you could do, Roland. 
 I will tell you what I did do ; " and with a grave face Mr. 
 Fanthorp detailed at length how, when he had applied to 
 his father in a distant State by letter for aid, and had been 
 refused, he wrote to him in a feigned hand and over an- 
 other name a full account of his own death. In affecting 
 terms he told him of the brilliant promise of his son, of 
 the universal estimation in which he was held, of his last 
 and fatal illness, of his dying messages, of the funeral, 
 when St. Jerome in tears followed him to the grave : he 
 detailed seriously and at length. 
 
 "In a postscript I incidentally mentioned," he added, 
 " that friends had been to some expense, but that I would 
 not press the subject upon the afflicted father. By return 
 mail I received a handsome check from " 
 
 " I do not see, sir," Mr. Venable said, not sharing the 
 laughter which followed by reason of the narrator's manner 
 of telling the story, " how you could so wantonly distress 
 your father." 
 
 " It did not distress him. The check was my only com- 
 fort," Mr Fanthorp replied with a sad face, " when I saw 
 how cheerfully my venerated father sent it." 
 
 He had told the truth : every one knew it was but one of 
 many freaks of the kind. But Mr. Venable was glad to 
 catch the eye of Miss Zeo at the moment, and to know 
 that she found as little fun in the trick as he did ; and the 
 conversation changed. 
 
 For a day or two the gentlemen rambled over the planta- 
 tion, hunting in the swamp, lounging about the mills, 
 all except Col. Roland, who devoted himself to the sisters.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 22/ 
 
 Mr. Venable found himself watching the governor closely. 
 The ex-magistrate was evidently very much in love with his 
 charming hostess, but it was not in her company that he 
 enjoyed himself most. He was always eager, instead, to get 
 out of doors ; and with a cigar in his mouth, walking about 
 among the negroes, leaning against a fence chatting with 
 his friends, he was an excellent listener, himself full of 
 anecdote of his experiences in city and country : a better 
 companion could not be desired. The instant the cigar 
 was thrown away, however, and he entered the presence of 
 the ladies, the light died from his fine eyes, the laughter 
 from his lip : it was as if he were in church or in the pres- 
 ence of the dead. Possibly Col. Roland had tutored him 
 too much. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Magruder," the colonel said to him at 
 every opportunity. " You blush and stammer so that no 
 modest woman can persist in talking to you, man." 
 
 " Look here, Roland," the other always replied, " you 
 know how I've lived all my life on my place, among my 
 negroes. And you know whether I am popular with those 
 chaps in the Legislature, among people generally. But the 
 moment you box me up in a parlor with such a lady as that ! 
 I ain't afraid; but don't you suppose I know what a 
 scamp " 
 
 " Don't be a booby, or a baby, Magruder," was the, text 
 from which his Mentor discoursed to him continually. 
 
 One day the question came up at table, as to what was 
 the noblest virtue ; and as the conclusion was reached by 
 Mr. Fanthorp, who did most of the talking, that it was cour- 
 age, Miss Zeo said, 
 
 " Grit, my brother Theodore I mean, told me, as we sat 
 down, of a cowardly thing. I do not think my father knows 
 of it. Some low characters tied up our overseer, he says, 
 and whipped him terribly. It was an outrage," she added 
 with glowing cheeks : " it was a mean and dastardly thing.
 
 228 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Mr. Fanthorp," she said in such tones as to arrest every 
 ear, " have you heard of this? " 
 
 "The overseer ! Whip an overseer ? No, MissZeo," Mr. 
 Fanthorp said with apparent astonishment. " I knew that he 
 had left ; but whip a white man ? It is impossible ! I 
 hope," he said to his host, "that you will allow me to 
 search the matter out. Whip a white man ! It is the first 
 I have heard of it." 
 
 " I am astonished at you, Zeo," her sister said. " Let us 
 talk about something else. Well, Mr. Venable, what do you 
 think is the noblest virtue? " 
 
 "Truth, Miss Irene," he said, "truth!" He was aware 
 that the emphasis in his tones and face added force to his 
 reply. " Nobody has been whipped," Gen. Buttolph said, 
 in the awkward silence which followed. " The scoundrel Zeo 
 speaks of had swindled me. Fanthorp found it out, made 
 the fellow disgorge, and he has fled : that is all. You are 
 right, Mr. Venable : a liar is a coward. Have some more 
 venison." But that gentleman was aware thereafter of a 
 curious coldness toward him, on the part of Miss Irene 
 again, as once before ; as well as of an increased cordiality 
 upon the part of Col. Roland and Gov. Magruder. To his 
 gratification, Miss Zeo directed her conversation to him 
 during the rest of the meal. But Mr. Fanthorp never was 
 more at his ease ; and when they went into the parlor he 
 favored them, Miss Irene accompanying him upon the piano, 
 with several of his most amusing songs. 
 
 When Mr. Venable first arrived in St. Jerome, he was pale 
 and thin from years of seclusion as has been said and 
 hard study ; but all that was gone. Like a plant removed 
 from a winter cellar into midsummer sunshine, he had devel- 
 oped in health and strength until he hardly knew himself in 
 his glass, and his difficulty now was to hold himself in due 
 bounds. The last afternoon of their stay on the plantation, 
 the party were seated under the live-oaks, some playing
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 22Q 
 
 chess upon a rustic table, the rest conversing, when Col. 
 Roland remarked, that, with the permission of their host, a 
 basket of choice champagne had been sent him by that 
 morning's boat from St. Jerome. He had been able to show 
 one of the custom-house officers a little political favor, and 
 this was the result. 
 
 "I wonder if it is the only result? " Mr. Fanthorp solilo- 
 quized aloud, in a thoughtful manner, stroking his chin as 
 he did so ; but Zeo had uttered an exclamation at the 
 mention of the wine, and Mr. Venable caught the look of 
 distress in her eyes. " Gov. Magruder was about telling us 
 of his accident," Col. Roland said ; " and his mention of 
 whiskey as a remedy for the bite of a snake reminded me of 
 the wine. Go on, governor, go on : the wine can wait." 
 
 In much briefer fashion than if the ladies had been absent, 
 the governor told of being bitten, and healed in the way 
 spoken of. Next Gen. Buttolph narrated the sufferings of 
 one of his brothers, who had also been bitten. He had 
 often told the story : it had been a tragic event, and he 
 related it with great feeling, for, there being no remedy in 
 reach, his brother had expired in agony. 
 
 " It was terrible," Col. Roland said, as he ended ; " but 
 suppose we have some of that champagne, general?" and 
 the hamper was brought out and opened. 
 
 " Your story reminds me," Mr. Venable said, " of another 
 event, so terrible that I never like to mention it, and it was 
 of my only brother ; " and, as the wine was poured out, he 
 proceeded to speak of his brother, his appearance, his talent, 
 his noble qualities. The grief of his life came back afresh 
 upon him, as he told of the honors taken by this brother, 
 who was many years his senior, when at college ; of the 
 pride of his parents in him. Under other circumstances he 
 would not have alluded to the matter ; but with Miss Zeo 
 watching her father covertly under her drooped lids, he went
 
 23O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 into details of his last hours, and even of the death of his 
 broken-hearted mother, and afterward of his father, in con- 
 sequence. His father had been ruined in money matters also 
 by the death of his gifted son ; for after that he gave up in 
 despair all effort as well as all hope. 
 
 The soul of the narrator was in his words, his own eyes 
 also were moist : he could not restrain himself. An unopened 
 bottle stood at his elbow ; and to one side of him was an 
 artificial mound of stones, upon the summit of which grew 
 a flowering cactus. Among the stones he had observed one 
 of the huge ammonites, common to that region, a petri- 
 fied shell larger than a dinner-plate, and very heavy. As he 
 closed his narrative, yielding to the impulse, he said to Col. 
 Roland, 
 
 " May I have this bottle, sir? " 
 
 " Certainly," the other replied with surprise. 
 
 "You spoke of the bite of a rattlesnake, general," he 
 added, " and of your brother's death. It was this reptile, 
 sir, this ! which killed my brother and my parents ; " as he 
 said it he arose, tossed the bottle to the earth on one side ; 
 and, as if it were a venomous serpent, he crushed it to atoms 
 under the ammonite. It was done in -an instant, and with 
 an intensity of feeling which thrilled every one. 
 
 " I trust you will excuse me," he said, quieting himself as 
 he took his seat ; " I never told the story before : but the 
 impulse was too strong to be resisted," and he hastened, as 
 soon as possible, to change the conversation. Not even Mr. 
 Fanthorp proposed to open another bottle ; and when Mr. 
 Venable glanced at Miss Zeo she seemed to be awaiting his 
 eyes, and, although he had not thought of her while speak- 
 ing, the look in hers was more to him than any wine could 
 have been. 
 
 There seemed something opportune when, soon after, a 
 peal of thunder warned them to seek the house, and the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 23! 
 
 sultry day culminated in a down-pour of rain. The ladies 
 hastened to their apartments, their father suggesting that the 
 rest should smoke their cigars in the billiard-room of the 
 rambling old mansion. 
 
 An hour after, Mr. Fanthorp loitered into the parlor at 
 the other end of the house, where Mr. Venable was seated 
 reading. 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Venable," he said to him, " do you 
 know you called me a liar at the dinner-table ? " 
 
 The other laid aside his book, and arose. " You know the 
 facts of the case," he said coolly. 
 
 "And meant I was a coward? " 
 
 " Precisely," his companion assented. 
 
 " And in the presence of ladies ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I declare," the lawyer said in a thoughtful manner, " I 
 never was more perplexed what to do. If it were Roland or 
 Magruder I would know, of course. You are a minister, 
 you see : it is that has kept me bothering over it so long. 
 How would it do for you to make an apology at table ? " 
 
 " It would not do at all." Mr. Venable could not refrain 
 from laughing as he said it, the other was so sincerely per- 
 plexed. 
 
 " I had thought," the lawyer said, looking up at the other, 
 who stood tall and vigorous before him, "of taking this 
 secluded opportunity of slapping you." 
 
 "You can try it," Mr. Venable said, with good-humor, 
 but closing his right hand as he did so. 
 
 "I never was so perplexed," said his whimsical antago- 
 nist. " Can't you advise a fellow? " 
 
 But there was a sound of steps at this moment ; and the 
 two men, themselves hidden by the curtains, glanced out 
 upon the back porch. It was Irene and her sister ; Irene 
 laughing and talking eagerly after a little nap in her room.
 
 222 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Suddenly, as the two men looked out, themselves unob- 
 served, they saw that her eye fell upon Iphigenia, stealing 
 through the rain ; and Mr. Venable was rooted to the spot 
 with amazement. With eyes and face blazing with wrath, 
 she sprang, at the sight, from the porch, and smote the 
 girl furiously in the face with her open palms, hissing at her 
 and spitting upon her in the extremity of her fury, and then 
 bursting, as she stood over the cowering wretch, into an 
 agony of weeping. The gentlemen hastened to drop the 
 curtain, and conceal themselves ; but not until they caught 
 sight of Zeo, her firm grasp on the arm of her sister, her 
 face set and stern but very calm in comparison. She was 
 pointing toward the negro-quarters, and she was saying 
 something as she stooped over the girl. The crouching 
 creature lifted her face toward her young mistress. All the 
 burning coal, so to speak, had gone out into the ashes of 
 her face, and her eyes, large and wondering like those of a 
 doe, were fastened upon those of the younger sister. Then, 
 with her head held down, and as if obeying a command, 
 she ran with naked feet through the rain, and disappeared. 
 
 " What a splendid woman she is ! " Mr. Fanthorp said, 
 and in a low tone, as they drew back. " Beautiful is no 
 word for it. It was grand. A perfect picture ! I wouldn't 
 have missed it for a pretty ! " 
 
 " It is a revelation like that of the angel at the sepul- 
 chre," his companion said, in a lower tone. 
 
 "Revelation? Sepulchre?" exclaimed Mr. Fanthorp. 
 " Not a bit of it. She was like a tigress. I wouldn't have 
 cared if she had killed that girl." As he said it he seemed 
 suddenly struck by something he saw in the face of the 
 other ; and, looking at him more curiously, the color came 
 so much more into Mr. Venable's face, that at last Mr. 
 Fanthorp smote his hand upon his thigh, and indulged in a 
 long whistle. " I thought so ! " he said. " Well, if that is
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 233 
 
 the case I am revenged ! Gov. Magruder will do it for me. 
 I am sorry for you, sir; for," he added, holding out his 
 hand, "I like your pluck. She is worth your trying. Go 
 ahead ! " 
 
 " Thank you ; I intend to," Mr. Venable said gravely, and 
 left the room.
 
 234 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ILLUSTRATING THE FACT THAT NATURE ABHORS A VACUUM. 
 
 AT the dawn of the day that Gen. Buttolph and his party 
 left St. Jerome for the plantation, Commodore Grand- 
 heur awoke in a restless frame of mind. After shaving, dress- 
 ing, and breakfasting, with rigorous reference to the clock, he 
 locked himself into his study, as was his invariable rule, for 
 exactly one hour of reading the Scriptures and prayer. That 
 accomplished, he stood for some time looking at his well- 
 stocked library. On retiring from the navy, and when fur- 
 nishing his house abundantly in every other respect, he had 
 obtained also as complete a supply of books as any man 
 could desire, and it had been his purpose to find in read- 
 ing a large part of his long-looked-for happiness ; yet some- 
 how he hardly ever opened a book, the very supply seeming 
 to dismay his appetite. On this occasion, as so often before, 
 he turned away from his library, and tried to amuse himself 
 in a weary fashion for a while with a large globe, revolving 
 it this way and that, his compasses in hand, for the purpose 
 of getting, for the thousandth time, certain distances there- 
 upon. But this also was wearisome, and he made a visit to 
 the room devoted to curiosities. It was a collection which 
 would have enraptured any stranger, but its owner was famil- 
 iar with it to disgust. He glanced with weariness over the 
 seashells and marine monsters stuffed or in jars. Every fish 
 had its mouth distended, and he never failed to sympathize
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 235 
 
 with and imitate their universal yawn. The models of his 
 favorite ships, too, he had studied so very often. What did 
 he care for the weapons and dresses, the feathers and pipes, 
 displayed there from many an island of savages ? No engi- 
 neer could have desired a handsomer assortment of model 
 torpedoes, to say nothing of improvements in cannon and 
 capstans of his own devising ; yet these merely aroused in 
 him afresh the old anger at the stupidity of the War Depart- 
 ment in refusing to adopt certain suggestions which even a 
 fool could have seen would revolutionize warfare. There 
 was one case of rosewood and plate glass particularly dear 
 to him, and he turned to it as a last resort ; but there was 
 not a particle of pleasure for him to-day in the gingerbread 
 decorations and orders therein displayed, and which Con- 
 gress had allowed him to accept from certain foreign poten- 
 tates, great and small. Nor was there, when he stood before 
 the cabinet displaying them, a spark of satisfaction even in 
 the medals granted him by Congress for heroic deeds : they 
 might have been hard-tack, instead of gold and silver, so 
 dry and innutritious to-day were their disks to his hunger. 
 
 And the gallant old soul was hungry this morning rest- 
 lessly, desperately, almost despairingly hungry for some- 
 thing, he knew not what. His parlors were as tiresome to 
 him when he threw open the blinds and took a survey of 
 carpets and mirrors, marbles and pictures. Except when he 
 had the Sunday-school teachers to tea, what did he want 
 with all that furniture ? and when he had them to tea, some 
 one of them was so certain to differ with him Miss Aure- 
 lia Jones in particular that it always destroyed for the 
 hour his very ownership in the house. There was nothing 
 left but to take a round of the garden and lawn, but he 
 could make nothing of it all but trees and grass. His 
 blooded cows might get good out of it, but he could not. 
 Twice a year he turned his Sunday school loose upon his 
 grounds, with plenty of dinner and swings thrown in ; but
 
 236 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the rapturous children were not here to-day, and they were 
 as indispensable to his enjoyment of his property as spoons 
 and knives and forks are to a feast. His acres were the 
 envy of the city ; but, had they been painted as a landscape 
 npon the bottom of his tobacco-box, they would have af- 
 forded him as much pleasure, and as little. 
 
 There was but one last resort, the observatory on the 
 top of his house. 
 
 " If I were sick," he said to himself as he climbed up stairs, 
 " I could take salts ; but I never was quite so well in my 
 life. I can't imagine any thing to eat or drink or wear that 
 I want. And one cannot compel his Sunday school to meet 
 except on Sunday. So far as people are concerned, what 
 good is there in talking to them in the streets or in their 
 houses ? Either they have nothing worth hearing to say, or 
 they are eternally airing some absurd ideas of their own. 
 Miss Aurelia Jones, for instance. I can see her this moment 
 with her black eyes and her ringlets. She knows that she is 
 the only woman living that ventures to differ from me ; and, 
 having nothing else to do, half the pleasure of Sunday school 
 to her is in defying me. It is as necessary to a woman of 
 her temperament as mustard is to beef. . Well, what is there 
 to see here ? " And having reached his observatory, after 
 getting over the perspiring and panting inevitable to a man 
 of his portly build and irascible nature, he proceeded, quad- 
 rant in hand, to take his exact bearings. He had done it 
 very, very often before ; and, as his house had not sailed 
 anywhere since he was there last, the process and result 
 were too easy and too certain to do him any good. Then 
 he levelled his glass, and slowly swept the city and island 
 and sea round and round : yet that wide field did not yield 
 him a grain of harvest. As he snapped the slides of the 
 glass to, he thought of getting out his charts down in his 
 study, and sailing over again his whole series of voyages. 
 " But I've gone over it so often," he said, " that I can do it
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 237 
 
 as well up here, and without the charts ; and I don't want 
 to." 
 
 He had never been so miserable. Moreover, he knew 
 well enough that as he grew older it would be worse. One 
 would hardly have recognized him as he stood there on the 
 summit of his house and his wealth and all, the world hav- 
 ing nothing more to give him than he already possessed. 
 The world ? the universe for that matter ; for in Scripture 
 and church and prayer he had ranged over and gathered to 
 himself all that lay outside the world too. Even Mr. 
 Nogens would have exclaimed aloud, had he seen the com- 
 modore. His hands had fallen to his sides, his head upon 
 his bosom, his white moustache drooped, his bronzed face 
 was almost ghastly, the portly figure seemed wilted and shriv- 
 elled into sudden age. It was by an effort that he at last 
 roused himself to say one word ; but he said it without any 
 special interest, 
 
 " Becalmed ! " 
 
 Nothing to say, to think, to do, to feel. Nowhere to go, 
 nothing to look forward to. He went slowly down to his 
 study, and opened, unconscious that he did so, his big 
 Bible at the lesson for his school the coming Sunday. 
 The first verse called to mind a preposterous opinion Miss 
 Aurelia Jones had advanced in relation thereto at their last 
 teachers' meeting. But as he meditated a wholly different 
 train of thought seemed to enter his mind. Slowly, but very 
 steadily, his head rose as he sat in reflective attitude, the 
 color came back to his face, the stiffness to his white mous- 
 tache, the light to his eyes, the portliness to his body. As 
 if some great tide had turned within him from its lowest 
 ebb, and was lifting him by its irresistible flood, he seemed 
 to rise and freshen and brighten, until at last the incoming 
 ocean fairly lifted him to his feet. He stood erect, looking 
 into the air as if from his quarter-deck over wide seas, his 
 gaze concentrating itself as if upon the vessel of an enemy
 
 238 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 bearing down upon him. At last it was as if the foe had 
 climbed up his bulwarks, and were bearding him upon his 
 very post as commander. He looked with rising wrath as if 
 into the eyes of an insolent invader ; and, with clenching 
 hand, he said aloud, 
 
 " No, madam, never ! " 
 
 But the incoming flood of the future had not as yet 
 reached its high-water mark, if the confusion of metaphor 
 may be allowed. He stood for some time as if unable to 
 resist. Then, as he still reflected, he slowly let his right 
 hand be lifted by the advancing tide high over his head, to 
 bring it down suddenly with clenched fist upon the Bible, 
 and a violent exclamation, 
 
 " Bearings at last ! " 
 
 In an hour's time he came out of his front door dressed 
 as for church. The servants watched him with amazement 
 as he passed out and down the steps of his veranda, and 
 crunched his determined way along the shell-walk and out 
 of the gate, his cane tightly grasped, his head unusually 
 erect, the gravest resolve in his eyes. 
 
 This atmosphere of ours conveys from person to person 
 more than touch or sound, light or smell, and things which 
 it, or the ether in it, conveys also from soul to soul are power- 
 ful in proportion as they are subtle. That very morning 
 Miss Aurelia Jones had awakened in a frame of feeling unlike 
 that of the commodore merely in this, that it was one of yet 
 more profound discontent. Strange to say, she was as much 
 more dissatisfied as she was richer than the other. The fact 
 that her grounds and house were larger and finer and better- 
 kept but increased the weariness which but by no means 
 for the first time they awoke in her this magnetic morn- 
 ing.. 
 
 " I must be getting bilious," she said to herself at the 
 very hour the commodore was wandering disconsolately 
 about in the wilderness of his museum. " There is no more
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 239 
 
 sewing to be done. It is no use to sweep and scour and 
 dust when I've seen to it that every room and chair and 
 curtain and pane of glass is as clean as work can make it. 
 Unless I want to leave nothing of my silver, there is no use 
 in having it rubbed again. If Bob has left a weed in the 
 garden, I couldn't find it this morning. The whole house 
 has just been painted and papered. There's no church 
 until next Sunday. The sewing-society and the parochial 
 school, teachers' meeting and prayer-meeting, won't come 
 before their time. Oh, bother ! " 
 
 Miss Aurelia had already looked over her jewels that very 
 morning as she sat in bed unwilling to rise. It was impossi- 
 ble for any woman to give more than an hour to brushing her 
 hair, especially when she had given the same length of time 
 to putting it up the night before. She tried the pier-glass in 
 the parlor once more. Hair, eyes, the effect of poising her 
 spirited and handsome head this way and that, the adjust- 
 ment and re-adjustment of ribbon and frill, of necklace and 
 breastpin, cannot be gone over, even by a woman with noth- 
 ing else to do, more than a hundred times in one morning 
 without weariness. 
 
 "There's no new drive," she lamented as she continued to 
 survey herself in the glass. "There is not a soul but is 
 owing me a call. All yesterday I was shopping until I am 
 sick of the sight of silk and lace. I believe my Christian 
 character is suffering seriously from the way I frequent the 
 stores. I wish somebody would call, or die, or do some- 
 thing! What a stupid world it is ! " and the solitary woman 
 wandered aimlessly about her house. Once she called in 
 two of her negro-women, and, seating herself in the middle 
 of a room, made them bring and range her Saratoga trunks 
 about her, with the view of surrounding herself with a chaos 
 of dresses, purely for the purpose of putting each back 
 again. But she merely locked them again immediately. 
 "Carry them back," she said to the women. "I believe 

 
 24O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 you look so discontented," she added, " because you know 
 I was going to give you dresses, as I always do. The 
 more you have, the more you don't care for any thing, 
 ungrateful creatures ! Hold your tongues ! What you need, 
 both of you, is to be field-hands again, a sharp overseer at 
 your heels, with nothing but hard work and pork and grits." 
 
 Then their mistress made up her mind. Going down into 
 her little library, she seated herself at a special secretary, 
 unlocked the outer doors thereof, and held the keys in hand 
 as she ran her eyes over the range of drawers revealed 
 inside. Her past life lay waiting the unlocking in those 
 drawers, a drawer for each separate period. Letters, read 
 and reread, were in them ; locks of hair ; fragments of rib- 
 bon understood by no one else ; miniatures and daguerro- 
 types ; jewelry not worth sixpence to look at ; bunches of 
 withered flowers, and the like. Her face had grown hard 
 and pale as she sat, the key in her hand, which was hover- 
 ing about, undecided which of the receptacles to unlock. 
 Suddenly she let her hand fall. " No, I can't do it ! " she 
 communed with herself. " I have exhausted my emotions 
 long ago. They do me no good unless to make me cry, 
 and I'm too tired to cry. No, no : it is the only place left 
 me, and I will go there." 
 
 Locking the secretary, she went wearily up-stairs again 
 into a little room opening into her bed-chamber. There 
 was nothing in it beyond a chair, a table with a Bible on it, 
 and a cushion on which to kneel, nothing else, unless it 
 were a small picture on the wall, apparently the likeness of 
 some young man who could not have been regarded by his 
 friends as handsome. And yet the poor lady, as if from 
 force of habit, fastened a tired look upon it as she sank into 
 the seat, and opened the book upon the table beside her. 
 She read, or tried to read, for some time, then knelt, but rose 
 again very soon. 
 
 " It is dreadful," she said to herself as she sat down, al-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 24! 
 
 most fretfully, again ; " but there doesn't seem to be any 
 thing here for me, either. There is nothing to ask for, that 
 I know. It is like trying " she shuddered as she thought 
 it " to gossip with with God ! I don't suppose peo- 
 ple even in heaven are allowed to do that. God forgive 
 my irreverence ! The Bible seems to say that they are busy 
 as they can be all the time in heaven also. One must have 
 an appetite before one can relish even the bread of life ; 
 and to have an appetite, one must be hard at work. I'm 
 hunting all the time for work, but there is so little to do ! 
 I wish it were time for calling in the people to prayers down 
 stairs. If some beggar would only come ! It would be 
 a round sum to him if any agent were to happen in for any 
 society. If one only knew of a scalded child, or of a 
 woman whose husband beat her ! I would give fifty dollars 
 for a blind old woman to read to, yes, or a hundred for 
 a poor girl that would let me teach her to read or to make 
 wax-flowers. And it is getting worse and worse with me 
 every day. I wish somebody would swindle me out of my 
 money, or set fire to the house, or charge me with stealing 
 something in the stores. Oh, me ! " 
 
 For a long time she sat in her chair, her head upon her 
 bosom, thinking, thinking, thinking. But it could not have 
 been wholesome thought. Once she rose, and stood look- 
 ing, another Mariana in her moated grange, out of the 
 window. She might as well have been looking at a stone 
 wall, for any thing she saw of interest. All that she did 
 note were her carriage and horses waiting, according to her 
 orders, at the gate ; and she commanded them away as if it 
 were an importunate tramp. Then, after walking hither and 
 thither like a caged lynx, she sank into a seat. As she sat, 
 her hands clenched, her eyes grew dry and bright, her 
 face hard and white and cold. At last she rose, shut her 
 Bible with a slam, left the little room as if finding it too 
 small to hold her, and walked up and down her chamber
 
 242 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 with rapid steps and flaming glances. Her Sunday-school 
 class would not have known her. She raised her hands to 
 wring them, winding the fingers of the one in the other, and 
 when they fell to her side they were clenched. The curls 
 upon either side of her face suddenly seemed frivolous in 
 connection with the violence of her aspect ; it was like ring- 
 lets adown the cheeks of Bellona. And terrible words broke 
 from her lips, invective, reproach, scorn, despair, the 
 very suppression of speech adding to its intensity and bit- 
 terness. 
 
 "And to think," she said in a fierce whisper, "that the 
 wickedest wretch living is not as miserable as I am ! And 
 yet I have tried so hard to be good and to do good all my 
 life ! " 
 
 As she walked, like a tigress now, from one end of the 
 room to the other, her eyes caught sight of her face in a 
 looking-glass, and she stopped terrified at her appearance. 
 An instant more, and she had fallen on the floor in an agony 
 of repentance, crying, pleading for pardon, weeping as it 
 were her soul away. Utterly exhausted, she rose at last, 
 bathed her face long and carefully, and arranged her hair. 
 The next moment she sank once more on her knees in her 
 little room, very calm and quiet. " Whatever is thy will, 
 O Heaven ! " was all she said. 
 
 As she rose, the front gate opened and shut. Very lan- 
 guidly she looked out of the window. When she saw who 
 it was, there was first an exclamation of anger, then her 
 face relaxed into a smile, then she was laughing with sin- 
 cerity and girl-like sense of the fun of it all. At a glance 
 she saw that it was not so much the visitor as it was a great 
 event which had arrived ; and in the instant she recog- 
 nized and accepted it. 
 
 "Very well," she replied when one of the women an- 
 nounced a visitor. " Tell him I will be down in a few min- 
 utes." But her visitor had to wait. Never had Miss Aurelia
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 243 
 
 Jones made a more elaborate toilet ; and when at last she 
 did go down, her face was the brightest and most beautiful 
 thing about her. It would be wrong to liken so thoroughly 
 excellent a woman to a barren and burned-out satellite as 
 the moon, although Miss Aurelia had undoubtedly had her 
 volcanic experiences as well as that orb : yet the moon it- 
 self did not wax and wane through greater variations of 
 light and shadow than did she. 
 
 To the commodore her curls had never seemed so natural, 
 her eyes so bright in their beady blackness, her face more 
 effusive with the cordial welcome which gave such warmth 
 to her hand as she held it out on entering. 
 
 "I am so glad you called this beautiful day, sir," she 
 began at once. " I wanted," with a charming smile, " to 
 say how wrong I was as to that cubit measure we were 
 discussing." 
 
 "That is one reason, Miss Aurelia," the visitor hastened 
 to say, " I called. I insisted, you remember, that a cubit 
 is eighteen inches. On reflection, I am inclined to think 
 you were right as to its being twenty-one inches instead. I 
 have gone accurately over the chart of the tabernacle. It 
 is absurd, when I come to think of it, that the house of 
 worship for the millions led out by Moses was only forty-five 
 by fifteen feet. Your cubit is undoubtedly the correct 
 measure, and even that leaves the tabernacle extremely 
 small." 
 
 " It is very kind of you to think so," she hastened almost 
 impatiently to say; "but every respectable commentator 
 adopts your idea of the cubit, eighteen inches, sir, eigh- 
 teen. And I wanted to say how ashamed I am that I was 
 so impulsive and heated when we discussed it. People who 
 are in the wrong always are vexed, you know." 
 
 " In that case I certainly was the one in error," the com- 
 modore said with energy. "I am always too positive, 
 madam. The habit was formed on shipboard, where I had
 
 244 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 to be peremptory, as you are aware. I have never differed 
 with you, Miss Jones, that I had not reason to regret it 
 afterward." 
 
 " Please don't allude to it, commodore," the lady inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Now, Miss Jones had been painfully careful hitherto not 
 to give that gentleman his title. She refrained from doing 
 so, because she knew that he decidedly preferred it. By 
 styling him sir instead, as a rule, by speaking to and of 
 him in moments of serious difference as Mr. Grandheur, 
 even, she had intended him distinctly to understand, that, 
 whoever else in St. Jerome was afraid of him, she was not. 
 In no way could she have hauled down her flag, too, to-day 
 more entirely, and at the same time with more womanly 
 grace, than in thus giving him, and as a matter of course, 
 his rightful title. The sweetness to her visitor of such a 
 sugar-plum was simply ridiculous, but in some respects the 
 gallant old soul was the tiniest of babes. 
 
 " And while we are upon the subject, commodore," she 
 continued in her eager way, " I want to acknowledge my 
 error in regard to the talents." 
 
 " Not at all, madam," the other said, bringing his gold- 
 headed cane down with quite a thump on. the carpet, as he 
 sat with it between his knees. " It was / who was mistaken. 
 A silver talent could never have been sixteen hundred and 
 ten dollars, as I asserted, any more than a talent of gold 
 was merely twenty-seven thousand three hundred and sev- 
 enty-five dollars. You were right, madam, right ! " 
 
 "Oh, no, commodore, no, no ! You know," the lady 
 said, sweetly referring to a mite of a memorandum-book in 
 her portemonnaie, " that I said a talent of silver amounted 
 to two thousand two hundred and fifty dollars. Absurd ! 
 that would make a talent of gold no less than thirty-six 
 thousand dollars. I am heartily ashamed of taking such 
 ground. In that case, the temple of Solomon cost between
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 245 
 
 eight and nine hundred millions of dollars. How absurd ! 
 My position was positively wicked. Mr. Fanthorp is a 
 scoffer, and he seized upon my estimate as proof that the 
 Bible is false. You cannot tell, commodore, how sincerely 
 I regret it. 
 
 " Please let me say one thing more, and then we will 
 never allude to the subject again," she added softly and with 
 lowered eyes. " We have often differed, very often, I 
 fear, and the influence of this was bad upon the Sunday- 
 school children, to say nothing of the teachers. I blame 
 myself severely. But no, let me say it all, please," she 
 added as he made an effort to interrupt her. " One mo- 
 ment. You know me well. I am, I fear, of an ardent 
 and impulsive nature, far too much so : I am so self-willed. 
 It is my misfortune to be my own mistress, and oh, you 
 know " 
 
 The visitor understood very well that she referred to her 
 wealth, which, as everybody agreed, did somewhat spoil Miss 
 Aurelia, as, alas ! whom does it not spoil ? In all that she 
 said, however, she remained a lady. No man knew that bet- 
 ter than did her guest. He had but to presume upon any 
 thing said by her, and those lowered eyes would be lifted 
 with a flash which would have riven the commodore, stout 
 as he was. They knew each other : from long and close 
 association each knew the other perfectly well. Too long 
 had they labored together in the same church for this not to 
 be the case. All along they had quarrelled because each 
 was so determined, as well as independent. But of late 
 they had come to be aware that, in fact, each was, instead, 
 unspeakably dependent upon the other, a conclusion, 
 which gave a converging direction to the determination 
 steadily forming in the bosoms of both. He had come to 
 know that his lonely life was intolerable already, and that it 
 would become more so with every fleeting day. This being 
 so, he knew of no other lady so well qualified, on the whole,
 
 246 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 to relieve his otherwise desperate estate. Possibly the same 
 reflection was true on her part toward him, except that his 
 opinions had been slowly forming, while hers had come, as 
 a woman's best resolves always do, in the fateful instant she 
 had seen him enter her front gate that morning. 
 
 There was, under all his concessions to the lady, the 
 steady resolve, that, as captain of the ship, he must and 
 would rule in the event of marriage. On her side there was 
 almost an eagerness to be ruled. It was a welcome rest 
 after years of strife against circumstances, and was in the 
 last hour re-action from the violence into which that strife 
 with the inevitable had culminated at the very moment its 
 remedy was approaching her house in the boots of the com- 
 modore. 
 
 One thing surprised and delighted them both, and that 
 was the degree in which they felt themselves entirely at 
 home, each with the other. The spirits of the gentleman 
 rose higher as he felt himself advancing to conquest ; for a 
 love of rule had grown with his growth, exactly as a passion 
 for drink or for gambling might have done. Not a syllable 
 had as yet been ventured by him in that direction, and yet 
 the lady faced and accepted what she felt to be a certainty ; 
 and her increasing satisfaction showed itself in the deepen- 
 ing quietness of her manner, a quietness which explained 
 itself to her as she sat. Amazing to say, her surrender was, 
 she well knew, but the path toward such a supremacy in the 
 end over this grand old foe of hers as she had never 
 dreamed of. She almost pitied him, knowing how uncon- 
 sciously he was passing into her hands, to be as completely 
 ruled as ever a husband was in this world, a world from 
 the primeval constitution of which, and by some astounding 
 oversight, the salique law has been wholly omitted. 
 
 "There is another thing, commodore," she said at last, 
 and after a good deal of conversation, "a matter in which 
 you were right. I allude to it with reluctance : your original
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 247 
 
 opposition, I mean, to our pastor, Mr. Venable. You know 
 how delighted / was. I overrate everybody, exactly as I 
 did the cubits and the talents : it is my impulsive nature. 
 I am afraid I made myself too active, I am so enthusiastic, 
 you know." 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, not at all. It but illustrates," 
 the other hastened to say, greatly struck by it, " how much 
 your excellent judgment was superior to my own. As you 
 will recall, I had taken my stand in opposition before I 
 knew him, and I would therefore have disliked him whatever 
 he had proved to be. It was sheer prejudice in me, 
 prejudice ! It has been my business in life, madam, to 
 know my subordinates, in order to wield them in cases of 
 sudden emergency. I am compelled to know them thor- 
 oughly, and I have come to know Mr. Venable. You must 
 pardon me," her visitor said with dignity, " if I do most 
 heartily appeal to your first impression of the gentleman, 
 venturing to differ from you now as I do from myself then. 
 I very highly prize our pastor. He is young, but he has 
 the elements of sterling manhood. I speak so warmly be- 
 cause I confess, as I have come to know him, it has touched 
 me to the soul to see how profound is his dissatisfaction 
 with himself. A man, Miss Jones, may please do not 
 misunderstand me may throw himself I speak with all 
 reverence too prostrate even at the feet of God ! In a 
 certain sense, I mean." 
 
 "Did you ever think of Daniel?" she said. "I mean 
 when he had his vision of God beside the river. He fell 
 flat on his face ; but his visitor would not speak to him while 
 in that attitude, and made him arise. And when Daniel got 
 up, but remained upon his hands and knees, the command 
 was, ' Stand upon thy feet,' before God would confer with 
 him. I like a man," the lady added with energy, " to be a. 
 man, to be humble, but to be a man ! " 
 
 The commodore flushed with pleasure as he exclaimed,
 
 248 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " I heartily agree with you, Miss Aurelia. And I thank you 
 for your admirable illustration from Scripture. When I was 
 going with my fleet into a storm or into a battle, I first 
 asked aid of Heaven. I asked it importunately, I hope ; 
 but, having done so, I handled my ships myself. In a cer- 
 tain sense, I stood upon my quarter-deck in God's place. 
 Look at poor old Father Fethero, madam. The whole 
 tendency of our times is to lower and weaken the man- 
 hood of the ministry. A man must be a captain of his ship, 
 whatever the craft be, if he is to bring it into harbor. I 
 agree with you most heartily ; " and he sat up in his chair 
 more erect than before, a gallant old soul as you could wish 
 to see, sat up strong and commanding for an instant. The 
 next, shifting his cane from hand to hand as he sat, his large 
 figure-head of a face grew pale and then purple. In vain he 
 attempted to put on the port of a commander as he goes 
 into action, and at conscious disadvantage he began : 
 " Ahem ! Miss Aurelia Jones, I wished " 
 
 " Oh ! by the by pardon me, commodore," the lady 
 said hastily, but with ease, because entirely mistress of the 
 situation, and rising as she spoke, " there are some 
 improvements I have planned upon my place. I am always 
 mistaking. Please oblige me with your excellent judg- 
 ment ; " and, so saying, she led her visitor, nothing loath, 
 out of her parlor and into the grounds.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE EBBING SEA REVEALS SOMEWHAT OF THAT WHICH IT 
 HIDES. 
 
 WITH August came the yearly repainting and repair- 
 ing of Gen. Buttolph's mansion in St. Jerome ; and 
 Mr. Venable accepted an often-repeated invitation of Mr. 
 Parsons to make his house, at least for a while, his home. 
 
 Mr. Parsons was too much absorbed in his manifold in- 
 ventions to pay attention to his pastor beyond the usual 
 courtesies of a host ; the more especially as Mrs. Parsons, 
 overflowing with health and spirits, and sympathizing with 
 the young man, exerted herself beyond her warm-hearted 
 wont to make him feel at home. As to little Owny, she 
 forsook father and mother to cleave to their guest j living, 
 almost, in Mr. Venable's study, if not in his arms,. He 
 was by no means the enthusiastic person he had been, and 
 for so long after his arrival. What was this wonderful 
 island at last, but a reef of sand ? The eternal sea, almost 
 on a level with it all around, was wearisome ; the heat of 
 midsummer so oppressive that he was fain to sleep these 
 hot nights upon the floor of the veranda, an umbrella up 
 over him to keep off the brilliant light of the moon. And 
 then the mosquitoes were so maddening, whenever a land- 
 breeze blew, as to irritate him beyond endurance. Worse 
 than all, the summer had poured a stupidity as into the 
 arteries of his church. Not only was the attendance there-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 upon small, at prayer-meeting exceedingly small, but he 
 could no more arouse himself than he could the people. 
 
 The unceasing unbelief of Mrs. Parsons and Owny in 
 the inventor's ideas, their perpetual ridicule and laughter, 
 amused their guest ; but he was more interested in the lov- 
 ing devotion, none the less, of the blooming wife and her 
 rosy little duplicate, to the gaunt and hollow-eyed old man, 
 so eager and headlong in pursuit of bubbles which always 
 broke as he grasped them. 
 
 " If I miss it in one thing I will hit it in another," Mr. 
 Parsons said one morning at breakfast when his wife had 
 been unmerciful in the long list she gave Mr. Venable of 
 her husband's inventions, each of which had been, in its 
 turn, so certain to succeed. " Ezra Micajah Papa is made 
 of India-rubber," she replied : " when he falls hardest he 
 bounces highest. Look at that ridiculous terraqueous 
 machine." 
 
 " It is bound to succeed ; yes, to succeed gloriously," her 
 husband interrupted. " I am going to give you all another 
 ride, sir. I am perfecting the wheels. Next time we will 
 go faster, and not only by land." 
 
 " Will you take to the air? " his wife asked, laughing. 
 
 " Not with this machine. But I will one day ; and," he 
 added, "I will call it the terra - aerial - aqueous machine. 
 Laugh away. Hold your mug, Owny ; " and seizing upon 
 the pitcher of milk, he was, after looking thoughtfully into 
 it, complying with a request of the child for more. 
 
 " O Ezra Micajah Papa ! " the little one exclaimed, and 
 with good reason. Her father had poured half a gallon in- 
 stead of a half-pint, overflowing the mug. In hastily setting 
 down the pitcher it had upset upon the pones of corn-bread, 
 deluging the table. 
 
 " Stuff an' nonsense ! Fiddlesticks ! " the child cried, 
 while the good wife, without a shadow upon her clear, health- 
 ful face, broke into a merriment which it was better than
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 251 
 
 breakfast to hear. "What is the matter? "she called after 
 her husband, as he got up hurriedly from the table, upsetting 
 his chair, and nearly pulling the cloth off the board. 
 
 " An idea strikes me ! " It was all he said as he disappeared. 
 And it was an idea, if gold is the weight and measure there- 
 of. The blow of that thought smote in the end from the lean 
 and rocky old man a stream deeper and broader, and to 
 flow considerably farther, than that flood of milk, a stream 
 upon whose tide, if the figure may be pressed, there sailed 
 to him at last his ship of money, in good earnest, bringing 
 to him at least one hundred thousand dollars a year. 
 
 But none at table knew it then ; and Mr. Venable was 
 glad to get away from it all as from another of the innumer- 
 able annoyances of the wearisome time. 
 
 " I am utterly disgusted," he found himself saying an hour 
 later to Father Fethero, upon whom he had called as a des- 
 perate alternative. He had found the old minister working 
 as usual in the garden of the poor place he called his home ; 
 and they had seated themselves, it was so hot, upon empty 
 vinegar-kegs of which the children had made a playhouse 
 under the china-tree in the corner of the ground. 
 
 " The people seem to have taken an aversion to me," he 
 said in the distress of his soul. " Few except the members 
 come to hear me. Almost no one attends prayer-meeting. 
 I argue and persuade and entreat with all the soul I possess, 
 and in vain. And I try to instruct in the doctrines and 
 duties, yet is it water on rock. I make the most earnest 
 effort to prepare sermons. They seem to me so interesting 
 and striking ; but no one cares to listen to them. It is ter- 
 rible. I have no appetite. I cannot sleep at night. It may 
 surprise you that I should speak so plainly, Father Fethero ; 
 but I know you will not mention it. And you are an expe- 
 rienced minister. I must have some one to advise with. 
 And look at it, sir," he added almost bitterly : " here are a 
 dozen churches, fully equipped, yet wickedness has become
 
 252 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 so rampant that the people have had to organize a vigilance 
 committee. It began, you know, with the lynching of Gen. 
 Buttolph's overseer ; and they have had to pack off a score 
 of scoundrels upon the Nautilus, gamblers, swindlers, mur- 
 derers. Is not the gospel in our hands a dead failure? 
 For one, I am disgusted with myself! " and his whole aspect 
 confirmed the fact. 
 
 This was but a small portion of what he said. He knew 
 that he would regret next day having said any thing ; but he 
 had endured so long, he was desperate. Besides, he sincerely 
 loved the worn-out old veteran, and he believed that Father 
 Fethero had come to like him. And so he had. But Father 
 Fethero had been Father Fetttero for too many tough and 
 terrible years, to be any other than Father Fethero still. 
 
 " I don't know, I do not know," he said at last, and after 
 the other was entirely through. " Ahem ! yes. You are 
 grievously distressed. I do not wonder at it. For one, I 
 am astonished it is not worse. When there is too great a 
 gush at first, you are sure to give out and dry up the sooner. 
 I said to my daughter, when they made such a to-do over 
 you at your coming, 'Jane, this cannot last.' You have come 
 to me, and I will stand in the gap. That is, so far as I can 
 I will stand in the gap ; yes, stand in the gap. But I must 
 be honest. All I have to go by is my own experience. For 
 fifty years no man could have toiled harder than I did. I 
 am not saying I have had no seasons of refreshing from the 
 presence of the Lord. But I have had a hard time, my 
 young brother, a very hard time. I have been strongly 
 tempted to regard him as a hard master. On horseback and 
 often on foot : Paul did that, you know, to Assos. Winter, 
 summer, wet, dry, cold, hot, all seasons, I have forded 
 creeks, swum streams, struggled through bogs, slept out in 
 the woods ; tried to do so on prairies, but could not by reason 
 of the howling, night long, of the wolves." It was plain that 
 Father Fethero would take a good long time in which to tell,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 253 
 
 in his slow way, of his sorrows ; and the younger of the two 
 adjusted himself by a severe effort to listen. From past 
 experience he knew that the other was wearisome, to a young 
 man full of his own trials, intolerably wearisome. 
 
 " Yes, yes : if any man ought to know, I do. Very often 
 have I preached on an empty stomach. And all along," the 
 old man added, fastening his mournful gaze through his 
 spectacles on the face of his friend, " I did so sincerely de- 
 siring to know nothing but Him crucified. Once, after 
 preaching and pastoral visiting among a people, it was in 
 the Hawley Post Oaks, I remember, for a whole year, I 
 happened to overhear their leading men say they would glad- 
 ly double my salary if I would not preach at all. On anoth- 
 er occasion, it was at Limestone Court House, I received 
 one day what was all the compensation I got for months of 
 severe labor. On this wise it was : At the house where I 
 always staid Sunday nights, I had an attack of dysentery, 
 and they gave me a phial of paregoric to take to my room. 
 Monday morning as I was leaving, I handed the phial to the 
 lady ; and she said, ' You may have it, brother Fethero : you 
 may keep it.' I put it into my saddle-bags ; and that," Father 
 Fethero added without a suspicion of humor in his manner, 
 " was all I got for preaching at Limestone Ridge." 
 
 The old man rested both of his yellow and wrinkled 
 hands, one on the other, on the top of his spade, for he had 
 arisen ; changed his weight, as he did in the pulpit, from 
 one foot to the other ; and after some silent meditation, he 
 cleared his throat with peculiar pulpit clearance, and con- 
 tinued, " You are young, I am old : that is the only dif- 
 ference between us. I could preach when I was your age 
 as much wood, hay, and stubble as you : and thought it 
 gold, silver, precious stones, as much as you do. Look at 
 me ; " and the old man, with his wrinkled hands extended on 
 either side, made appeal to himself, so rusty and patched in 
 his working- suit, such a weather-beaten laborer, from the
 
 254 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 tips of his broad-toed boots to the top of his old hat of 
 black straw. " I tell you, my young brother," he added, " it 
 is a sin, an awful sin ; but I am tempted at times. The sil- 
 ver and the gold are His, and it is paid out to me, his hard- 
 worked old servant, in pennies so few, so pitiful May 
 God forgive me ! " the old man added, the tears flowing un- 
 checked from under the rims of his glasses. "If I could 
 but have won more souls, I wouldn't care for the dollars. 
 No : welcome poverty, if I only could know I had won a 
 multitude of souls ! 
 
 "At many and many an appointment," Father Fethero 
 continued, "I have gone into the church or schoolhouse 
 with crowds on crowds of men gathered together because it 
 was a Sunday and a bright day, standing about outside, whit- 
 tling sticks and talking, not more than a dozen or two of the 
 old stand-bys in to hear me preach. How full I was of the 
 blessed gospel ! my soul running over with the good tidings, 
 and not a sinner inside to hear it ; the people as clean out of 
 my reach as if they were in Jericho. Poor sermons ! God 
 only knows the difference it makes in a sermon to have no- 
 body, almost, to hear it. Paul couldn't preach then. Sup- 
 pose I never was a man of talent : I wanted to do good. 
 They say this and that man ought never to have gone into the 
 ministry. I have had ungodly men tell me I ought never to 
 have left the plough. Wasn't it Providence? Is it only 
 talent that is blessed ? God forgive my wicked unbelief ! I 
 know there remaineth a rest. As to your case," he added 
 after composing himself a little, " I must honestly say that I 
 plainly perceive a gloom. I fear things will be worse and 
 worse. If people shouldn't continue to like you " 
 
 "Let any one give me the least hint," said the other hotly, 
 " and I resign instantly ! " 
 
 " I don't know. I do not know," Father Fethero made 
 grave reply. " It is giving up a salary. You will not find it 
 easy to get another charge, as I know from my own bitter
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 255 
 
 experience. Yet," he continued, his blue spectacles full 
 upon the other, " it may come to that. All I can say," he 
 closed as they parted at last, " is what the aged Paul said to 
 Timothy : Endure hardness as a good soldier." 
 
 The warrior in this instance, however, retreated as from a 
 defeat. 
 
 "What did I go to him for?" he demanded of himself, 
 after an hour's walk upon the beach. " That is part of my 
 weakness ; " and he strolled languidly along, heedless of the 
 surf often dashing over his feet. As he neared the house of 
 Gen. Buttolph, he came upon Grit, who was digging, in sheer 
 summer idleness, a fiddler-crab out of the sand to see it 
 fight. It was a relief to sit down beside the boy upon the 
 clean sand. After the sorrowful old age of Father Fethero, 
 the mere youth of the boy was a pleasant variety. " I am 
 so glad, Grit," he said, after a good deal of talk about the 
 bathing, fishing, boating, and the like, " that you are grow- 
 ing to be so good a boy. I hope you are not sorry I came." 
 
 " Oh ! it wasn't you," his companion said with a boy's 
 frankness. " It's Zeo. I can't stand preaching, you see. 
 A fellow will go to sleep. Oh ! as to that, yes, I was a hard 
 case, a regular rip. What can you expect when a fellow's 
 mother is dead, and there's nothing but the negroes ? Irene 
 only stopped her ears, and ran. She said I was a perfect 
 nuisance, a detestable wretch. That's all she said. The 
 best she can do is to scold like thunder, or to cry like sixty. 
 Now, there's Zeo " 
 
 " Hush, Grit," his companion said : " we must not talk 
 about family matters. But," he added as the boy worried 
 the crab which was standing up on its hind claws and clash- 
 ing at the stick with its pincers, " I would like," he contin- 
 ued after a longer silence, " to know how your sister got you 
 to to " 
 
 " Stop being such a scamp," Grit said promptly. " Oh ! 
 well, she loved me, and she wasn't afraid of me not one
 
 256 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 bit. I have gone at her with a hatchet, and she never so 
 much as winked. But it wasn't that, you'd better believe," 
 he added, after a pause. 
 
 " Well, if it is not improper for you to say? " asked Mr. 
 Venable. 
 
 " If I didn't curse and swear a few ! but," added the boy, 
 " I said things worse than that for a white girl to hear, you 
 know. Oh, but I was a rip ! The thing is, I was afraid of 
 her. I used to peep of nights through the key-hole. My ! 
 how she used to kneel and pray " 
 
 " Hush ! never mind," began the other. 
 
 " And when she came at me, her eyes so fixed and steady 
 and loving ; I tell you," he continued, " it wasn't because 
 she seemed as big then as a barn, and as strong as a horse. 
 What it was is, I was afraid, afraid somehow : oh ! I don't 
 know ; a sort of something with her, and more than her ; and 
 a kind of something in me too. " Look here, Mr. Venable, 
 you used to look at her so I thought," planting his uncon- 
 scious dagger in the heart of the other, " that you were going 
 to court her. But Zeo is going to marry Old Ugly, the 
 governor, you know; a splendid chap. Look at that," 
 producing a pocket-knife : " ten blades, a corkscrew, a 
 walnut-picker, and a pair of pincers. He gave it. That's 
 the kind of a brother-in-law, you bet ! And I'm going to 
 live with them. With Irene ? I guess not. 
 
 "I say, Mr. Venable," he called after the other, "will you 
 marry Zeo and the governor ? You'd better : there'll be lots 
 of cake." 
 
 But this last information was lost upon the other, as he 
 strode away down the beach ; nor did he look up until smit- 
 ten by a whiff of foul smell off the flats, from which the tide 
 had gone out. 
 
 " Yes," he said, as he looked, but without stopping, over 
 the slimy expanse of green mire, " I suppose it is a good 
 thing to have the tide go out in me, until I know how much
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 25 / 
 
 mud and offal, what a rottenness of dead things and detesta- 
 ble stenches, there are in my inmost heart. All the processes 
 of God are to make the sea ebb out for that. Yes ; and to 
 make it flow in again afterward, when the lowest ebb is 
 reached. Grit is right, his sister, I mean. When we are 
 desperate in regard to any thing, the instant we find that 
 we cannot do it ourselves, that instant we begin to try to get 
 God to do it for us." He walked the more rapidly until he 
 reached his room at Mr. Parsons's. Once there he locked 
 himself in ; nor did all the entreaties first, and then the 
 wrath, of Owny outside, avail to secure her an entrance for 
 the rest of that day.
 
 258 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE TIDE BEGINS TO RETURN AGAIN. 
 
 MR. VENABLE arose early next morning, saddled 
 a young horse assigned him by Mr. Parsons, and 
 rode down the beach. All that his horse had learned so far 
 was to stand still, or to go as if destruction were at its heels ; 
 and the air was all the fresher by reason of the rate at which 
 they went. There was a pleasure, too, in being the first 
 person along the surf that morning, a subtle gratification 
 such as one takes in unfolding a daily damp from the press, 
 in cutting the pages of a book just published, in playing 
 with a child having the dewy charm upon its brow of laugh- 
 ing little Owny, the delight of getting back to Eden and 
 the beginning of things. The swift speed over the wet sand 
 and along the lines of bubbles left by the retreating waves 
 was as near that of flight through the air as one can attain, 
 and it was long before he could draw rein. When he did, 
 it was to dismount, fasten his horse to a drifted log, throw 
 off his clothes, and plunge into the sea. It seemed to be as 
 illimitable as the atmosphere, and more palpable to his en- 
 joyment ; and he surrendered himself to the billows as he 
 had done to his horse. The difficulty with him in bathing 
 was now, as it always had been, to come out again ; and it 
 was not until the sun, peering above the level sand, had 
 fairly detached itself from the horizon, that he consented to 
 enter with it upon the duty of the day by dressing and gal-
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 259 
 
 loping back. Even then it was a shame to carry so keen an 
 appetite to Mrs. Parsons's breakfast-table ; and he paused 
 before he entered the house, under the fig-trees, to eat 
 a few of the blue and purple figs which covered the grass, 
 trembling in luscious ripeness upon the low branches, to fall 
 thither in a moment. 
 
 " When I was at the North," he said as he ate, " men and 
 women were as hard to win as the hickory-nut or chestnut 
 in its burr : here they drop into any honest and cordial hand 
 as easily as " and he touched and received into his palm 
 a plump fig " this fruit. Except Commodore Grandheur, 
 and he is yielding at last. But ah ! will not the governor 
 find it so with Miss Zeo ? Yet, as I took oath when I first 
 awoke, to-day I will not think of her ! Till I die I will not 
 despair ; but, please Heaven, there is another than she to be 
 won first." 
 
 After breakfast, he refreshed himself further by kissing 
 little Owny upon her rosy cheeks ; and, obtaining a solemn 
 promise from her that she would not hammer with her fists 
 upon his door till dinner-time, he hastened to his room. 
 He had already prepared a specially elaborate discourse for 
 Sunday. Tearing this to pieces as a good beginning, and 
 taking a suitable text, he leaned back in his chair, planted 
 Gen. Buttolph in imagination before him, and proceeded to 
 say to him, as distinctly and as directly as it could be done 
 without giving offence, precisely what he thought of him, 
 and of the inevitable result to which that genial individual 
 was hastening. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. There were fewer at church 
 than he had feared. But he was strangely indifferent to 
 this ; as much so as an arrow is to the air when sufficient 
 aim and impulse has been given to it. With a subtle avoid- 
 ance of offending any one, which was part of his power, he 
 merely said over again in his sermon to the portly general 
 sitting in front, as well as to every person there, according to
 
 26O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 his besetting sin, what as to guilt and danger that individual 
 was saying to himself already ; and so ended. He did not 
 need that any one should inform him as to the effect ; for he 
 knew that people assure each other only where matters are 
 so uncertain as to need assurance. 
 
 " My wife," Capt. Chaffin lingered after service to say 
 to him, " has something she is dying to tell you. Weemen 
 are dedicate," continued the mariner, in a troubled way. 
 " All I ask is, when she does tell you and she may never 
 do it please say nothing about it till you've seen me first. 
 She is so very small a craft, carries so few tons and so much 
 engine, draws so little water for the size of her soul, oh ! 
 you know what I mean, sir, that I am always afraid 
 afraid " 
 
 "She has already spoken to me," the other said, not 
 thrown from his certainty of results by an interruption even 
 of such a sort. " I thanked her heartily, but I have not 
 done enough to have my portrait painted yet. Please ex- 
 cuse me to her, captain, and say " 
 
 " It isn't that, it isn't that," the husband broke in. " You 
 never fear ! A grander idea has driven that clean out. It 
 is, I do suppose," he said, eagerly yet watching the face of 
 the other with an almost pitiful anxiety, " the grandest, the 
 very grandest idea, a woman ever had ! ' You have no no- 
 tion, sir, how grand it is ! It will strike you at first like " 
 with the same covert scrutiny of the face of the other, as if 
 for a suspicious smile " like a squall ! But what I want 
 to say is is it must be weathered like a squall, too. 
 Don't you say yes, I mean, until you see me ; and don't tell 
 anybody about it. You won't, will you ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," Mr. Venable said without a gleam of 
 amusement in his countenance. " I understand perfectly," 
 he added, with grave respect. 
 
 The face of the captain was rigid, and more of the hue 
 of walnut than before. It was the increasing wear and
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 26 1 
 
 tear, as of salt seas and hard storms, beginning to leave 
 deeper marks in the honest wood of which he seemed, 
 more than ever, to be made. There was a hesitation and 
 yet an enthusiasm, a dignity and yet a shamefacedness, in 
 his assertions about his gifted wife, which had always 
 touched the other to the soul. 
 
 " It is the case of young Plenty and old Plenty over 
 again," he thought, as he walked home. " I wonder how 
 much lying such love can excuse. Two idiot children, Mr. 
 Parsons said, and a crazy wife ? If the captain is a fool for 
 a fourth, Heaven ranks such folly above the highest wisdom. 
 O Love, Love, you are indeed God ! " 
 
 Owing to the scant attendance at evening services at that 
 season of the year, notice had been given that there would 
 be a conference meeting at night instead of sermon, to be 
 held in the vestry instead of the church proper. When Mr. 
 Venable arrived at the usual hour, he was surprised to find 
 the room crowded, although individuals and numbers had 
 both ceased to have the weight with him, somehow, they 
 had possessed till that day. He imagined that Miss Aurelia 
 Jones bowed as she passed him, as he was pausing a mo- 
 ment with Commodore Grandheur in the vestibule, less 
 coldly than of late. Certainly the commodore was cordial 
 enough. " I was just saying to Mr. Nogens," he remarked, 
 " that you showed excellent sense in your way of silencing 
 Mr. Quatty by that plan of the hall. We will not be 
 troubled with him any more." 
 
 There seemed to be deeper feeling than usual in the meet- 
 ing which ensued. Mrs. Chaffingsby even ventured to join 
 in the singing in her thin treble. It was plain from Father 
 Fethero's prayer, that he had repented of his discouraging 
 words, it was so hopeful in comparison to any thing before. 
 There had been one or two deaths in the church, and the 
 pastor dwelt with special solemnity upon the uncertainty of 
 life. No one cared even to see whether Mr. Quatty was
 
 262 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 present. As the service drew to a close, it became more 
 solemn with every hymn and prayer. Commodore Grand- 
 heur had never spoken with such weight. The grief of those 
 who had lost their relatives was contagious, and many were 
 weeping. As Mr. Parsons seated himself after one of his 
 rapid prayers, a voice from the back seat said, and very 
 gravely, 
 
 " Let us pray. Thou knowest, O Lord," it continued, 
 " that we are but for an hour. The wickedest men of this 
 wicked region had been packed off, thou knowest, upon 
 that steamship. Has not thy servant heard, as he came here 
 to-night, that the Nautilus has at last gone down at sea, 
 every soul lost? Dreadfully not ready ! Surely our life is 
 vain " and the supplication proceeded in language of 
 even thrilling power and pathos. 
 
 It was wonderful. So unlike were the tones, words, entire 
 manner of Mr. Quatty, who had never led in prayer 
 before, to any thing previously heard from his lips, that 
 people were some time in satisfying themselves peeping, 
 in some cases, through their hands held over their faces 
 that it was the man ; but there was neither indignation nor 
 amusement by the time they were sure. A better prayer had 
 never been put up. The words were homely, but the hon- 
 est and sincere heart palpitated in every syllable. Every 
 eye was moist when he sat down. The special importunity 
 of Mr. Quatty was for a deeper and more general interest in 
 religion ; and all agreed that the new interest which followed 
 dated from that hour. 
 
 Among the unusual events, Miss Irene had attended the 
 meeting, bringing Mr. Fanthorp with her. Gov. Magruder 
 had dropped in at the close to escort Miss Zeo home, 
 although the fact that it was Sunday diminished to a fearful 
 degree the topics upon which that statesman could converse. 
 Even the presence of the man he most dreaded did not 
 turn the minister from his aim, nor slacken his impulse : he
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 263 
 
 and Gen. Buttolph walked silently together through the 
 night. As they neared the general's house, the younger of 
 the two proposed that they should stroll on toward the surf 
 before the general went in ; and the impulse upon his part 
 was in close sympathy with the yielding upon the part of the 
 other. 
 
 Gen. Buttolph was a magnificent person to look at. Re- 
 puted the wealthiest planter of that region, always hand- 
 somely if carelessly dressed, generous and hospitable, there 
 was a certain Assyrian assumption in him which made peo- 
 ple yield even where he was too indolent to command, 
 possibly unconscious of any desire to that effect. And yet 
 he was at last merely an overgrown boy. All that Grit was 
 when Zeo returned from school, he was, save upon a larger 
 and more decorous scale ; as reckless beneath all the pro- 
 prieties as he. When the two men had reached the sea- 
 shore he turned and said, " Do you know, sir, that you have 
 done a perilous thing to-day? " 
 
 " I do," Mr. Venable replied gravely. 
 
 "It is the first time any man has dared to attempt it, sir," 
 he added. 
 
 " Is it? I can only say, sir," the other remarked respect- 
 fully but earnestly, " that I would have done it long ago, 
 had I known. I had no wish to offend you, general, but 
 I am in St. Jerome to do what I tried to do to-day." 
 
 Some storm had hurled a timber like a javelin into the 
 beach near them ; and the general laid one hand upon the 
 projecting end, and, while the minister was sure of nothing 
 beyond his duty to the slave of appetite before him, extended 
 the other to him in the moonlight, saying, " I honor you, 
 sir ! You are right ! My father had certain habits, as did 
 my brothers. His death, their death, was a relief to us. I 
 have been going the same way, have been transmitting our 
 family curse to Grit. Zeo has long entreated me, but you 
 have brought matters to-day to a conclusion. I thank you,
 
 264 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 sir, but it is not to you I yield : it is to my dead wife and to 
 Zeo ; " and to the astonishment of his companion the voice 
 of the other faltered, broke ; and there followed such a con- 
 versation between the two as rarely befalls, and when it 
 does admits of no third party. Except that he was himself 
 no Daniel, it was to Mr. Venable like the downfall before him 
 of a king of Babylon. " Good-night," Gen. Buttolph said 
 to him at last ; " but remember, sir, I do not bind myself 
 beyond the end of this year. By that time I will be able to 
 judge, but not beyond then. Good-night, sir, I must go in : 
 I wish to see my daughter."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IN WHICH PEOPLE OF DIVERSE KINDS ARE NOT MORE MDCED 
 UP THAN THEY OFTEN ARE IN THIS TANGLED LIFE. 
 
 MISS ZEO was so long in leaving the church on the 
 Sunday morning following upon this, that Mr. Venable 
 could not help, as he came down the pulpit-steps after ser- 
 vice, saying a word to her. She raised her eyes to his, her 
 soul in them, gave him her hand, said, " I thank you, sir," in 
 a low voice, and hastened down the aisle to join her father. 
 It took but a moment, it gave him a thrill of pleasure ; yet 
 she would hardly have had the heart to do it if she had 
 known what mortal pain, too, it was to him. 
 
 "How can I endure," he groaned to himself, "to see 
 her the wife of another? " So far as he knew, her marriage 
 with Gov. Magruder was settled. The papers throughout 
 the State were filled with intimations of his election to the 
 United States Senate before long, some allusion to a bride 
 always accompanying them ; and the derisive congratulations 
 upon his reform from his bachelor ways were numerous. 
 The pressure of her hand, the gratitude of her eyes, these 
 were to Mr. Venable like the light from the bayou-boat 
 upon the forest ahead : they merely showed how impenetra- 
 ble was his path. " But," he thought, " I can but make an 
 effort to advance steadily day by day. It is all I can do." 
 
 The next day Grit hailed him as he was walking to the 
 post-office.
 
 266 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Venable, Zeo's got that key," the boy said, 
 as he walked beside him. 
 
 " Key? " his companion asked. 
 
 " Don't pretend you don't know, Mr. Venable : pa's key, 
 the key of the sideboard where the decanter is," Grit ex- 
 plained. " She's got it on a ribbon around her neck. I 
 saw it one night when I was kneeling by her to say my 
 prayers, and I twitched it out. Oh, but pa he gets restless 
 about bedtime ! He misses it awfully. Zeo she sings and 
 plays for him, reads to him, tells him all the funny things 
 she can think of. She beats Irene at that, because, you 
 see, I help her. Oh, but Zeo is good as wheat ! One 
 night" 
 
 But his companion would not allow him to say more. 
 He was glad of this confirmation of his hopes, it thrilled 
 him to hear the name even of the daughter ; but his 
 thoughts turned again, after parting with Grit, to the extra 
 services upon which his church was now entered. These 
 continued during several weeks ; the interest spread to other 
 churches ; and in the end quite a number were added to the 
 First Church as the result. 
 
 One day toward the close of these special services, Mr. 
 Parsons asked Mr. Venable at dinner to call at Gen. But- 
 tolph's, and beg Miss Zeo not to be late on the ground for 
 the trial trip of his greatly-improved terraqueous machine, 
 his invitation having been already accepted. 
 
 " Be sure and don't forget," Mrs. Parsons added, but in 
 such a way as to bring the blood to the face of her guest. 
 
 "I love Miss Zeo too," little Owny said, in the pause 
 which followed ; for she seemed in this, as in every thing 
 else, to get as much now as before her birth, soul as well 
 as body, from her mother. Whatever Mrs. Parsons thought 
 and felt, Owny did too, and at the same instant. " That's 
 all the cause why I go to Sunny school," the child added, 
 " to be her 'ittle girl. She is my one. Div her a tiss, Mr.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 267 
 
 Venny, and tell her Owny sent it." But all that the mother 
 said in parting with him when he left, soon after dinner, was, 
 " I would call, if I were you," and with such a serious face 
 that he walked away, his heart beating as if in fever in 
 fever, and aware that the finger of this female practitioner 
 was upon his pulse. 
 
 But he did not go in when he got to the general's man- 
 sion. He had not been there for many weeks; and the 
 same pretence of the repairs going on was rendered now, 
 as he stood hat in hand on the veranda. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Parsons that I'll not be there, for one," Irene 
 said. " I think it is shameful, Mr, Venable. Just as the 
 religious interest is decreasing, too ! " for, after vehemently 
 refusing to attend church at all when the revival had begun, 
 she had yielded to it as violently at last. Miss Aurelia 
 Jones herself was not as faithful in her attendance, or as 
 fervid, apparently, in her devotions. 
 
 " Mr. Parsons is compelled to act at once in order to 
 secure his patent," Mr. Venable explained. " The party will 
 be small. I have come to know Mr. Parsons," he added ; 
 " and the sole purpose of the man in his desperate efforts 
 is to be able to give, to give millions if he can. Of all 
 men, he has the deepest conviction that it is nothing less 
 than millions will do to spread the gospel ; " and it was said 
 earnestly. But the speaker seemed embarrassed, and anx- 
 ious to get away ; the more so, as there was a change in 
 Miss Zeo standing there. It was a certain something in her 
 which he felt rather than saw, much less understood. She 
 appeared to be no longer the girl, firm and steady and 
 strong, whom she had been. Her sister seemed, since he 
 had last conversed with them, to have become her superior, 
 certainly for the first time. There was no such weakness as 
 downcast eyes and drooping manner and hesitating speech 
 in the elder of the two. 
 
 " She is overcome," the visitor said to himself, " as we all
 
 268 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 are, by the sultry season ; and how sorely she is overtasked ! 
 the dead weight of her father has been, at least, so long upon 
 her heart ! A boy from the sheep-folds slew Goliath with his 
 sling, and was done with it ; but this girl had to grasp her 
 giant, and to lift him clean off the earth, has had to stand 
 night and day, her Goliath held alive and struggling in the 
 air, and against an appetite dragging at him as steadily as 
 gravitation." 
 
 Such was his thought ; and he was in a hurry to leave 
 his message, and be gone. Had she met him with the 
 serene front, with the dark eyes full of silent power, as 01 
 old, it would have been different ; but she seemed to-day so 
 womanly in her weakness, was so humble and without self- 
 reliance, that he was bewildered, and he hastened to speak 
 of the church-work in which they had all been engaged. 
 There was the Bethel for seamen, which was in such a thriv- 
 ing condition in the market-house. " Commodore Grand- 
 heur is in charge," he explained. " The sight of the blue 
 shirts and glazed hats assembled before him made him a 
 little too much as if upon the quarter-deck again at first : he 
 was ordering them to repent and be Christians as if it were 
 to hoist anchor or reef sail. There was a mutiny ; but his own 
 good sense, as well as Capt. Chaffin, came to his assistance. 
 And only think, ladies," Mr. Venable went on rapidly, " Mr. 
 Quatty has never informed a soul, since the interest began, 
 that he was once an oysterman. He is at every meeting, is 
 an incessant worker among the roughs of the city, lets no 
 man have a horse or buggy from his stable without a tract 
 and a word of exhortation ; but in meetings all he has to say 
 is not to man, but to Heaven. I believe his prayers are as 
 effective with God as with man. My impression is," he 
 added with a smile, " that Heaven likes just such men : it is 
 he who is Peter over again without the denying of his Mas- 
 ter. I like Mr. Quatty heartily. And look at Father Feth- 
 ero : he has laid off his gloom with his glasses. Did you
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 269 
 
 ever see such a transformation ? he is whole years younger. 
 I understand better than ever the change Heaven can make 
 in us." 
 
 " And what does Mr. Nogens say ? " Zeo ventured. 
 
 " Oh ! he merely says, 'Yes,' " Mr. Venable replied ; "but 
 he says it more earnestly ; and he rubs his hands together in 
 saying it, as if he were intending after a while to say some- 
 thing besides. What I am glad of," he added gravely, " is 
 the depth of feeling, the seriousness which seems to rest on 
 all. We preachers thought the power was to be in our ser- 
 mons ; but these last weeks I see, for one, that the strong 
 wind which changes the world is something more than the 
 breath, in any shape, from my lips." 
 
 " You preach a thousand times better than you did before," 
 Irene remarked impulsively. 
 
 "Thank you; but if I do," said the other with kindling 
 eyes, " it is because I have stopped preaching. I never 
 before knew there was so much wheat and honey, gold, sil- 
 ver, and precious stones, in Scripture, and in the very words 
 of Scripture. All I do is to show others the richness I find 
 there ; and it has a value and a simplicity I never knew 
 before. I come every day upon some verse which satisfies 
 one as gold does debt : it suits hunger and thirst like bread 
 and water ; and I try to give it as I get it. I cannot say how 
 beautiful and valuable it all seems to me. But I must go." 
 
 " Tell Mr. Parsons I won't come. And you can't know, 
 Mr. Venable," Irene added, "how hard I am trying with Mr. 
 Fanthorp, to make him good, I mean ; but he has a worse 
 devil than any the Bible talks about, a laughing-devil. 
 He won't be serious one instant ; and he makes me laugh 
 too. I bite my lips, and clench my hands, but it is no use. 
 You need not look so wise, sir : there's not a particle of truth 
 in it. Farce Fanthorp, indeed ! I am as fond of fun as any 
 one, but I hope to look higher than Mr. .Fanthorp for a hus- 
 band. No, sir," she added with energy, " not if I know
 
 2/O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 myself. I would not allude to the matter, but," with great 
 dignity, " I know it is generally reported, and I want to deny 
 it. The idea ! " " Good-by, ladies," their visitor said, 
 again going. " Here's Zeo," the impetuous young lady add- 
 ed. "I know Mr. Fanthorp manages pa's plantation. Pa 
 says he and young Plenty do it splendidly. Perhaps so ; but 
 he cannot manage me ! Now, if you were to talk about the 
 governor ! I believe you are afraid of Zeo, Mr. Venable : I 
 am not. And I do believe she is afraid of you : I am not, 
 one bit. What is the reason," she went on, thinking aloud, 
 and not for the first time in her life, " that you two seem to 
 have such an aversion to each other ? You might at least be 
 friends. / like you, Mr. Venable," she said, " not as much 
 as Miss Aurelia Jones does, I mean did. Yes," she added, 
 " only less than I do Col. Roland. Wait a moment " 
 But their visitor, laughing, and lifting his hat, ran down the 
 steps of the veranda, and was gone, sorry and glad that he 
 staid so long. 
 
 He slackened his pace after he had got out of sight. It 
 was late in September. The heat was heavier even than it 
 was hot. He took off his hat, and stood still, looking around 
 while he wiped his forehead. In the slumberous silence he 
 could hear the monotone of the surf, sounding once so 
 wildly to him as out of Story and Song, but subsided now into 
 one of the commonplaces of life. The sky was cloudless, 
 as usual, but not clear. It was as if its deep blue had settled 
 down upon the sand and sea much more closely. The ole- 
 ander and china trees were motionless in every leaf as if 
 waiting. The romance still lingered to him in the orchards 
 of lemon and orange ; but they were all adust and dry, the 
 vast leaves of the banana-plants hanging in yellow shreds 
 about the arch of their stems. He had ceased long ago to 
 notice specially the swift-jacks, or their less brilliant relatives 
 the horned frogs, flitting about in the prickly grass, or darting 
 across the white dust or brown sand of the streets. But now
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 27! 
 
 he saw many of them lying panting, with outstretched legs 
 and open mouths, on the wayside. It was as if something 
 were impending. The air seemed to be heavy with doom ; 
 and he said to himself, " I have ten minutes to spare. Yonder 
 is Mr. Nogens's house. I'll make Mrs. Nogens hear this 
 time, if I die for it." 
 
 After leaving Mr. Nogens's house, as he turned a corner 
 on his way back to Mr. Parsons's place he came upon Miss 
 Zeo on her road thither. 
 
 " I have just made a call upon Mrs. Nogens," he ex- 
 plained ; and, in order to conceal his satisfaction, " it was 
 literally a call, as loud a call as I could. After all, I fear 
 she did not hear a word. She is so willing to hear, so 
 anxious to hear, that I'm afraid she says she hears when 
 she don't, smiling and nodding her head." 
 
 " I'm obliged to go to Mr. Parsons," his companion 
 hastened to explain, "because he said that he would not 
 give another picayune for Father Fethero if I didn't. Grit 
 went on before me, he was so impatient. How are you, 
 Clara? " 
 
 This was said, as they passed along the paling of Capt. 
 Chaffin's grounds, to the captain's daughter, who was lean- 
 ing against it from within, her face pressed like a caged crea- 
 ture against the fence. 
 
 " There are thousands on thousands of people in there," 
 she said, putting a hand between the palings to be shaken. 
 " I am so tired of them ! and ma will keep on making 
 more. Stop a moment. You can talk. They never do, 
 not to me." 
 
 " Are all well ? " Zeo replied kindly, endeavoring to pass. 
 
 " Charlie is. He sleeps and eats. When I go by them 
 at night," she continued, laying hold upon Zeo's shoulder, 
 " with a candle, they waver and wink. But they don't in 
 the day. They are all throwing their hands about, running 
 as hard as they can, quarrelling and carrying on, until I get
 
 2/2 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 in the room, you see. The moment I open the door, they 
 stand stock still, holding their breath till I get by. I tell 
 you, but they all go at it again when I'm out. I listen at 
 the keyhole, and peep. Sometimes I creep up, and open 
 the door sudden. But they are too smart. I catch them 
 all in a tremble, but they are stock still again. Charlie 
 laughs : he doesn't care. I do. There are too many of 
 us to be in one house this hot time. They crowd one so ! 
 Sometimes I can hardly breathe. Kiss me good-by." As 
 the poor girl said it, she stood up on the lower bar of the 
 fence, and leaned over her beautiful face, holding with both 
 hands to the pointed pickets. 
 
 " That I will," said Zeo tenderly, one hand upon either 
 cheek of the other as she did so once and again ; and the 
 faces of the two, brought into such contrast, thrilled the 
 looker-on like strange music. The one face exquisitely fair, 
 the other dark and sweet, the hair of the one hanging 
 down in loose abundance as she bent over the fence, a mere 
 child without a thought or care ; the other younger, yet so 
 many ages older, the shadow as well as the strength of her 
 life in her eyes, and upon her lips and brow. 
 
 " Good-by, lady. And won't you kiss me too? " the girl 
 added, still holding on to the paling, and bending over 
 toward the gentleman, her full child's eyes on his, her child's 
 mouth held up like little Owny at home. " They are so 
 high up I can't reach them, and they won't stoop down. I 
 want to love somebody. Kiss me, please." 
 
 " Kiss her, Mr. Venable," Zeo said, as he stood irresolute. 
 He did so, the tears in his eyes. With the pressure of his 
 lips upon the rosy mouth held out to him, he passed on 
 with his companion. 
 
 Nothing was said ; for they were behind time with Mr. 
 Parsons, as he was prompt to tell them upon their arrival. 
 
 " There is no hiding any thing now," he was explaining, 
 when they joined the friends assembled in the parlor.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2/3 
 
 " This is by broad day, and in an open car. Humph ! is 
 that you, Miss Irene ? " he added, as that lady came in 
 accompanied by Mr. Fanthorp. " I hoped you were not 
 coming. We don't want any more screaming at nothing, 
 and such fiddlesticks." 
 
 " I said I would not go," she replied ; " but here is poor 
 Mr. Fanthorp : he came and begged me to go and take care 
 of him. I'm not afraid." 
 
 " Don't go," Mrs. Parsons said, standing among the party, 
 with Owny both of them rosier than ever clinging 
 to her dress. " Don't go, Commodore Grandheur. Be 
 persuaded, Miss Aurelia," she said ; for these two had taken 
 the place of Capt. Chaffin and Mr. Quatty, who had refused 
 to be present. " You know I warned you all before. Owny 
 and I are too sensible." And she continued her warnings, 
 laughing and shaking hands in farewell. 
 
 " No, I won't tiss you," Owny said, shaking a coquettish 
 head at Col. Roland. "Dere's too much folks to tiss. 
 Mr. Venny, you may tiss me for dem all," she proposed. 
 To the surprise of the child's mother, as well as Owny, that 
 gentleman did not seem to hear : the kiss of poor Clara was 
 too fresh upon his lips ; and Zeo did so instead. 
 
 " No concealment, you see," the inventor said, as he led 
 his company out of the grounds and over the sands, to a large 
 open wagon standing on the beach. " It is nothing at all 
 but a car, with, as you observe, a mast in front. The wind 
 is fair and strong, and all I have to do is to hoist this square 
 sail, as we did the other trip. Vehicles have been made," 
 he added, as he assisted his friends to seats, " to be driven 
 by the wind over flat plains. This will be a wonderful mode 
 of travel over the broad prairies of our State. Old Ugly 
 intends to urge my invention upon his friends in the Legis- 
 lature. But there are rivers to be crossed inland, as well 
 as arms of the sea along the coast. This machine utterly 
 fails if it will riot do for water as well. It is a terra-
 
 2/4 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 queous machine, for land and water. Some day I may 
 adapt it to the air. So far, it succeeds only on earth, and 
 possibly, for I am not too sure, on the sea. Not there, 
 Mr. Venable," he added, as that gentleman climbed in. 
 " You are the youngest and smartest. Take that front seat, 
 and haul up the sail. The pulleys are my patent, and work 
 as easy as eating. I will stand behind here, and steer. All 
 right ! The glory of this discovery lies in the wheels. If you 
 lean over and look, you will see they are really screws also, 
 something like those of a propeller. Of course we go slow- 
 ly at first," he continued, standing up, lean and long, upon 
 a step in the rear, his bony grasp upon the helm which 
 governed the steering-wheel. "Now, we don't want any 
 nonsense or fiddlesticks, no screaming or jumping out," he 
 said, as the vehicle, yielding to the wind, began to move 
 slowly along upon the hard wet sand, in the fringe of the 
 lapping sea. "I'll take care, if you don't mind me, that 
 you have something to scream for when you can't jump 
 out. Hold tight ! " 
 
 A strong wind was blowing up the beach. The large sail 
 filled, the mast creaked and bent, the vehicle, moving more 
 and more rapidly, at last fairly flew before the gale ; the in- 
 ventor holding his hat on with one hand, the other hand on 
 the helm, his hungry eyes fastened eagerly upon the way 
 they went, as they tore along.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2/5 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN WHICH TRAGEDY AND COMEDY ARE NOT BLENDED MORE 
 THAN THEY ARE APT TO BE EVERYWHERE. 
 
 r I "*HREE o'clock in the afternoon; a beautiful day, 
 JL and the wind blowing strong from the north-east." 
 Col. Roland read it aloud from his note-book. The spirits 
 of the passengers rose as the vehicle flew more and more 
 rapidly along. Mr. Parsons had taken a liking to Grit in 
 consequence of his hearty appreciation, on the previous 
 occasion, of his delicacies ; and the wild enjoyment of the 
 boy now was but little in advance of that of the rest. Mr. 
 Fanthorp never had been as droll ; and it was remembered, 
 ah, how well ! afterward, that they were all in a singularly 
 good humor. Jokes were laughed at, although no one 
 waited to hear them out. Conundrums were accepted as 
 admirable, apart from their answers. Puns and personalities, 
 and laughter at every thing and at nothing, seemed infectious. 
 Miss Aurelia Jones, now as always dressed in silk, was effu- 
 sive beyond her wont. Commodore Grandheur beside her 
 was not at all on his guard against her any longer. All there 
 yielded to the excitement of the hour as to a needed diver- 
 sion from more important matters. The commodore un- 
 bent and laughed as if the sea-salt which had lain so long a 
 sediment in his veins had been thoroughly aroused again. 
 But the gayety of all, as they secretly acknowledged to them- 
 selves at the time, was too violent, was unnatural.
 
 2/6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " We may be lords of nature," Mr. Venable said, standing 
 in front, although nobody heeded him ; " but we are noth- 
 ing at last except straws before a blast : we are ourselves 
 see how we are driven along ! as much a part only of na- 
 ture as so many bubbles." 
 
 Little he understood that the jests and replies, flying so 
 fast between the passengers, were but another kind from the 
 electric flashes when a storm is coming on ; the last outside, 
 the other within, and heralding a tempest then impending, 
 alas ! in contrast with which every disaster experienced 
 before was but a trifle deserving laughter. 
 
 All agreed afterward that Mr. Parsons must have been 
 borne by the contagion of the hour beyond the bounds of 
 sanity. He was so long and lean and restless that his wife 
 had often said to him, " You are, my dear Ezra Micajah, a liv- 
 ing barometer." One thing was sure : the soul of the eager 
 man, like the quicksilver in the barometer, rose and fell, and 
 too exclusively for health, in one narrow channel. Through 
 years of derision upon the part of the press, as well as of all 
 his friends, for enemies he had none, his Terraqueous 
 Machine had been, among many other projects, the hope of 
 his life. The unanimous opposition had merely banked his 
 mind in, and compelled it along that single current, the 
 swifter for being so narrow. He had counted upon making 
 a great speed on this trial trip, but he had not calculated 
 upon the excess thereof under the rising gale. Worst of all, 
 he had not ciphered out the force of the excitement upon 
 himself. 
 
 In the very rush of his machine, his hand on the helm, 
 his eye upon the beach extending before him, the enthu- 
 siastic visionary was standing also before his blackboard, 
 the chalk between his finger and thumb, going over the old, 
 old figures : 
 
 " A million at least. One thousand is as much as a coun- 
 try church ought to cost for steeples are fiddlesticks, so
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 that this machine, if it succeeds, will put up one thousand 
 churches. Say missionaries instead, that is one thousand 
 men at work from California as a centre, upon the Old World 
 as well as the New. Or, say it is Bibles : fifty cents apiece 
 is enough ; I'll print 'em myself, two millions of Bibles ! 
 The machine is for water as well as land. I'll do it ! Yes, 
 the millennium will take millions to bring about. I'll do it, 
 if they do squall ! but I will only run in a very few feet." 
 But even then he would not have done it, had not Mr. 
 Fanthorp repeatedly exclaimed, 
 
 " Don't be afraid, Mr. Parsons ! " by no means intending 
 what followed. . 
 
 The beach ran along the seaward side ; broad, smooth, and 
 hard for many a mile, ending with the point of the island. 
 There the sea gave place to the sluggish water lying between 
 the island and the mainland, the beach degenerating into 
 deep sand. It was as they flew, the wind whistling about their 
 ears, toward this critical point, that the sense of the inventor 
 broke down (Mr. Fanthorp partly responsible therefor), and 
 was ground to dust under his swift wheels. He had threat- 
 ened to give them something to scream for, without seriously 
 intending it. But the turning-point had been reached. Mr. 
 Fanthorp, standing in the car, was, after calling out to the 
 inventor, taking off Gov. Magruder at the time he made one 
 of his well-known failures in stump-speaking. Col. Roland 
 was indignantly denying that it was in the least like, laughing 
 none the less beyond his usual refined habit. Miss Aurelia 
 Jones was holding of necessity to the commodore, who was 
 soothing as well as he could her anxieties, which were more 
 for her costly dress than for herself. Irene was crying to Mr. 
 Venable not to drop the sail. On the instant, without his 
 fully intending it, and by the merest bend of Mr. Parsons's 
 hand to the left, the vehicle drove under full speed into the 
 water. 
 
 So sudden was it, and unexpected, that there was an
 
 2/8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 instant's silence of utter astonishment. "Don't touch the 
 sail ! " shouted the inventor, above the piercing screams of 
 both Irene and Zeo as well as Miss Aurelia. Mr. Venable 
 let the sail fall. 
 
 " Sit still, no danger ! " yelled Mr. Parsons. " Concern 
 you, sir ! Fiddlesticks ! Still, sit still ! " 
 
 But there was a rush to the landward side of the vehicle. 
 More slowly than could have been believed, for it floated 
 high and dry above the smooth water into which it had been 
 driven, the car turned over, and all its living load were strug- 
 gling in the sea. It was not fifty feet from shore, and the 
 depth of the shelving sand was not enough to drown ; but 
 the confusion was what might have been expected. With 
 wonderful presence of mind, Col. Roland, his hand firmly 
 pressed upon the note-book in his breast-pocket, leaped as 
 far as possible from the others, thinking, in the very act of 
 doing so, what a thrilling account he would give of it all in 
 his paper. By reason of his thoughtfulness, he was soon 
 ashore, and contented himself with advising his friends from 
 thence what to do, if he could but have made himself heard 
 in the confusion of the moment. Grit, with the agility of 
 a boy who had spent the whole summer in the surf, off and 
 on, had been the first ashore ; but he had gone in again, 
 after a glance around, and was now swimming about, looking 
 for Zeo, and keeping himself carefully aloof from every 
 other. Commodore Grandheur's gold-headed cane had 
 been, as usual, between his knees as he sat ; and, in the act 
 of snatching after it, he seized upon Miss Aurelia Jones 
 instead, who laid vigorous hands upon him in turn. There 
 were several moments, which seemed hours, of gurgling cries 
 and intermittent screams, splashing about in the water, and 
 importunate and incoherent appeals to God and to man; 
 then a laborious crawling up the shelving shore, and a 
 grasping at each other of those who emerged, weighed down 
 under the load of their dripping attire. After that there was
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2/9 
 
 an eager wiping of the water, as well as the streaming hair, 
 from their eyes, and an anxious examination, on the part 
 of each, as to who the other was. All the party were there. 
 
 No ! The shrieks of Irene rang upon the air. It so hap- 
 pened that Mr. Fanthorp and herself had come out of the 
 water where the sand of the surf had given place to the 
 mire of the slimy bay ; and, crawling up and falling down in 
 it as they emerged, both of them were bemuddied beyond 
 recognition. The earliest use Irene had of her breath, after 
 wiping the mire off her mouth and eyes, was to fall into con- 
 vulsions of laughter at Mr. Fanthorp ; to be changed the 
 next moment into screams and shrieks, for her sister was not 
 there. Nor was Mr. Venable. The hysterical girl seized 
 upon Mr. Fanthorp, and almost hurled him into the water, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 "You are a coward, sir. Go in and get Zeo, or ah, 
 you know what I will do ! " The men needed no appeals, 
 but rushed into the sea, up to their chins, shouting and call- 
 ing, Irene going up and down the beach, as well as her 
 heavy clothes would allow, wringing her hands and scream- 
 ing as if bereft of her senses. Yet once again her cries 
 changed into peals of laughter ; and she went up the way 
 along which they had come, and into the surf, rolling in 
 heavily before the wind. She had seen Mr. Venable strug- 
 gling up, and continually falling down in the waves, her sis- 
 ter lying as if dead in his arms. In her insane eagerness she 
 fell against the gentleman, knocking him and his burden 
 over, Grit zealously aiding him up again. 
 
 " Go away," Mr. Venable shouted : " do you wish to kill 
 her? Let me get out ! " The tones were such as he had 
 never before used to anyone, much less to a lady; and, 
 Irene silently following as he bore her sister high up on the 
 beach, he laid her down upon her face, and, directing what 
 the ladies were to do to revive her, he labored in silence but 
 with trembling hands with them, Grit beside her.
 
 28O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Parsons?" Col. Roland suddenly asked, 
 in the confusion which ensued. 
 
 " Drowned, I do most sincerely hope ! " Irene said as she 
 plucked at her sister's neck, unlacing and tremblingly obey- 
 ing directions also. " He richly deserves it ! " she added. 
 
 " Ha ! yonder he is," said the old naval officer, turning 
 away with the other gentlemen as the ladies partially dis- 
 robed the prostrate girl ; and, following the direction of his 
 hand, sure enough, there was the inventor astride the top of 
 his capsized car, busily at work doing something. 
 
 "Ahoy ! " shouted the commodore ; " can you make it? " 
 his hands hollowed on either side of his mouth. 
 
 " Don't want to make it ! " Mr. Parsons yelled in return. 
 " It can't sink. Part of the invention ! There was no dan- 
 ger. What did you make such fools of yourselves for? 
 There was no danger. I told you the wheels are screws ! " 
 in great wrath. " There is an attachment to work them. 
 The sail would have driven them. Con-cern you for drop- 
 ping it ! " 
 
 "Can we do any thing for you?" Col. Roland called, as 
 the inventor slowly drifted before the wind. 
 
 " No ! " Mr. Parsons roared in reply. " You have done 
 mischief enough. I'm better without you ; " and his lank 
 body was clearly outlined against the sky beyond him, tug- 
 ging and toiling at something as he floated off. 
 
 But the attention of all was fastened upon Zeo. The com- 
 modore had left with the ladies a flask of brandy he had 
 brought, and, after directing them for a time impatiently 
 from a distance, exclaimed at last, " What folly ! I'm old 
 enough to be her grandfather," and joined in their labors 
 with such skill and energy that in a little while the rescued 
 girl was able to sit up on the sand. When this point had 
 been reached, it was Mr. Venable who held her up while the 
 rest consulted as to how they were to get home. With her 
 earliest breath she had to refuse her brother, who begged to
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 28 1 
 
 be allowed to swim off to Mr. Parsons and share his fortunes. 
 It took, however, but a breath ; for the boy submitted, eager 
 as he had been, at a word. 
 
 "We must be twenty miles away," remarked Mr. Fan- 
 thorp. As he said it Irene broke into peal on peal of laugh- 
 ter. Evidently Mr. Fanthorp was the object ; but it was 
 equally plain that there was a cause 'for it beyond his exceed- 
 ingly bemired condition. 
 
 " We might as well walk, however slowly," Mr. Venable 
 said, when at last Zeo was able to start. " I can support 
 Miss Zeo easily. This is only a September gale, but she is 
 wet, and may get chilled. You will be glad to hear that I 
 engaged Mr. Quatty to bring an ambulance in case of acci- 
 dent ; Miss Zeo I mean the ladies being with us. Lis- 
 ten ! " 
 
 But no one could hear any thing, as they very slowly 
 walked along, Mr. Venable supporting Miss Zeo on his arm ; 
 nothing, at least, beyond the roaring of the surf and the gale. 
 
 " Allow me to relieve you," Col. Roland said after they 
 had gone a few hundred yards. 
 
 " No, sir, thank you : I'm not at all tired," Mr. Venable 
 replied, the freshest person there, to judge by the cheerful 
 energy of his tones. But Zeo settled the matter as he spoke, 
 and kept bravely up with them, by resting her other hand 
 upon the stout shoulder of her brother walking beside her ; 
 the whole adventure being, in his often-expressed opinion, 
 the " bulliest fun " he had ever known. But Grit did not 
 enjoy it all quite as much as did Mr. Venable. 
 
 " It's an ill wind which blows nobody any good," Mr. 
 Fanthorp said, as they struggled on against the weather. 
 " We are being dried rapidly, anyhow." 
 
 " O Mr. Fanthorp ! it's too ridiculous," Irene said, going 
 off again into a burst of amusement ; but it was not at what 
 he had said, and ever and anon the same thing would occur. 
 Evidently there was some hidden cause for her mirth. It
 
 282 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 must have been, at last, more than an hour that the 
 wrecked party had struggled along ; Mr. Fanthorp seemed 
 singularly daunted ; and Col. Roland had repeatedly ob- 
 served that if they caught him in such another expedition 
 he " would know it ; " when, before they were aware, Mr. 
 Quatty had driven up, and had leaped from the front seat of 
 his ambulance to the ground, four horses blowing beside 
 him with the speed at which they had been driven. 
 
 " But, halloo ! where is Mr. Parsons? " Mr. Quatty asked 
 at last, amid the congratulations and exclamations that fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 "Why, don't you know?" said Mr. Fanthorp, with an 
 effort, as if in great surprise. " My dear sir ! It was a con- 
 trivance to go through the air as well. We got out. If you 
 look you can see him. Yonder ! " and he pointed heaven- 
 ward. " See ? Just yonder, by the edge of that cloud. Ha ! 
 he is taking a bite look out of a patent biscuit. See? " 
 Mr. Fanthorp was elated, as all were, by Mr. Quatty's com- 
 ing ; but that gentleman, instead of looking in the direction 
 of Mr. Fanthorp's lifted arm, put his head on one side, 
 screwed up his right eye, and looked with considerable curi- 
 osity on his informant instead. 
 
 " Very good," he said at last. " Capt. Chaffin's cruising 
 off there in his yacht somewhere : he wanted to see the ma- 
 chine when it got to the end of the island. He'll pick him 
 up if he should come down. Get in, folks. There's a big 
 basket of supper my wife put up. She is a sensible creature. 
 So are horses, too. You see it was a smarter than Mr. 
 Parsons invented them. Now," turning their heads city-ward, 
 " just see how these horses will go when they know they are 
 going home. The ox knoweth his owner, and a horse his 
 master's crib. G'lang ! " Certainly the steeds in question, the 
 pride of Mr. Quatty's establishment, did go along the smooth 
 hard beach in a way that justified his commendation. 
 Meanwhile the spirits of all within the ambulance had risen
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 283 
 
 amazingly. Neither Zeo nor Mr. Venable, who sat beside 
 her, had much to say, and Mr. Fanthorp was not as droll as 
 he often was ; but the rest made up for them as they dis- 
 cussed Mr. Parsons, as well as the contents of the abundant 
 basket. Miss Aurelia Jones's silks were utterly ruined, and 
 her curls disgracefully disordered, but the youngest of cava- 
 liers could not have been more attentive to her than was 
 the commodore ; and she seemed in brilliant spirits all the 
 more, accepting like a schoolgirl the fun, which, by reason of 
 their new relations, was aimed at the commodore, also ter- 
 ribly bedraggled, and herself. But it was, and they con- 
 gratulated themselves upon it, long after dark before Mr. 
 Quatty put out each of the party at his or her house. 
 
 Except Mr. Fanthorp. He alighted at Gen. Buttolph's, 
 and, refusing to go in, detained Irene, laughing and strug- 
 gling to get away from him, on the veranda. 
 
 " You know I did, sir," she said, as her sister went in. " I 
 can tell you every word you said ! every single syllable, as 
 you clutched after me, and bobbed under and came up. A 
 man, and not able to swim ! What if I was the tallest? 
 The water was not much over your head, if you had only 
 struck bottom and stood up, as I did. A woman, too ! Oh, 
 but won't they laugh at you ! It will be in every paper in 
 the State. You've made fun of so many people, you'll have 
 no peace again as long as you live." 
 
 " But listen to me a moment," Mr. Fanthorp begged. 
 He was plainly in earnest. Like all practical jokers, he was 
 the most sensitive of men to being himself made fun of. If 
 it were reported that a lady had saved his life, it would be his 
 ruin ; and no one knew it quite so well as himself. " Do lis- 
 ten," he said. He was caked from head to foot with the 
 wind-dried mire, but his anxiety was evident through it all. 
 
 " No, sir. And I will not keep it either. It is the best 
 joke I ever heard ! O Miss Irene, save me ! save me ! " 
 the young lady exclaimed, mimicking his tones, though in a
 
 284 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 lower voice. " The only thing for you to do," she added, 
 " is to hurry back to the beach, and drown yourself in good 
 earnest." 
 
 " It is not that," the lawyer said, driven to desperation. 
 " Miss Irene, I admire and love you. You have supposed 
 me to be joking. I swear to you I am in dead earnest. 
 You are, under your exterior of mud, the most splendid 
 woman I ever Please listen. Hold on ! Don't go. I 
 love you with all my soul. Please be my wife. You think 
 I'm a coward, do you ! I'll show you ; " and the shrewd 
 practitioner threw his arms around the lady in the darkness, 
 and kissed her vigorously. It was a ressort dernier, and 
 therefore desperate.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WITH THE YEAR THE NEW WORLD ALSO OF OUR COLUMBUS 
 HASTENS TO ITS ENDING. 
 
 THE afternoon following upon the day of their ride, 
 Mr. Venable called at Gen. Buttolph's. The house 
 and grounds had undergone a complete renovation. He 
 could not but observe, during his rapid visit of the day be- 
 fore, the freshness of the white paint, and the coolness of 
 the brilliant green, making the hospitable mansion with its 
 wide welcome of verandas and Venetian blinds a picture, 
 amid its abundant shrubbery, in harmony with the white and 
 green, too, of the island, and the deep blue of sea and sky 
 to the utmost horizon. He had not entered the house on 
 his previous call ; and was refreshed, as he did so now, with 
 the reproduction of the vivid colors of nature in the fresh 
 papering and sumptuous furniture. Zeo came into the par- 
 lor almost immediately on his arrival, and there was a newness 
 of beauty in her for which the house and island and ocean 
 and heaven seemed an insufficient framing. He would 
 have scouted the idea of having any illusions in regard to 
 her, such as young Plenty had in reference to his grandfather, 
 or such as Capt. Chaffin entertained concerning his gifted 
 wife ; yet he differed from these merely in having a more 
 insane idea still in his valuation of this young girl. She was 
 beautiful, but his estimate was not so much of her loveliness 
 as of her intrinsic and immeasurable value in a deeper sense.
 
 286 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 It was that which made her, every thing about her, seem in 
 such exquisite taste ; the splendor to him of her modest 
 eyes, when they were raised for a moment to his, lying in 
 their being but revelations of the world within. He had 
 been uneasy as to her health after their adventures of the 
 day before ; but that was gone without a question asked, in 
 view of the color coming and going in the olive of her com- 
 plexion. 
 
 " Have you heard?" The words, however, broke at the 
 same instant from the lips of both as they met. Terrible 
 words ! Wherever any two met in the city, and soon it 
 would be the same over the whole State, a like demand was 
 on every tongue. 
 
 " Mrs. Parsons is sick," he said, declining a chair in his 
 uneasiness. " She says it is nothing but a cold. Owny has 
 it too, for that matter. They were waiting up last night for 
 Mr. Parsons. It is nothing, nothing at all." 
 
 " Has she headache, and pain ' t u e back?" began Zeo, 
 with terror in her eyes. 
 
 " I believe so ; and nausea too, I think ; but," he added, 
 " it is merely a cold. She gives little Owny medicine, but 
 will take none herself. She refuses to lie down. When I 
 left her she was teasing her husband unmercifully. Capt. 
 Chaffin did pick him up, sure enough. You never saw such 
 a change in a man, Miss Zeo. She and Owny were laughing 
 at him about his machine. They were in high spirits ; and 
 he was standing there, when I left, by the blackboard, seeming 
 as if he had been petrified. I was really alarmed. With his 
 hollow eyes and high, narrow forehead, he looked like a 
 statue in bronze ; and he was holding his child in his arms, 
 with such tearless love for it and his laughing wife as no 
 words can express. It was like a tableau." 
 
 " Oh, poor, poor Mr. Parsons ! that is because he knows so 
 well ! " it was all that Zeo said, melting, to the astonishment 
 of her companion, into tears. " And dear, dear little Owny ! 
 Do you not know? " she asked as she wept.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 28/ 
 
 " I know that the yellow-fever has arrived," he began. 
 
 " Mrs. Parsons has the worst form. It is those of her 
 full health," Zeo said, " who are first struck. They are always 
 the ones too who persist, as the phrase is, in footing it 
 through the attack, refusing to take medicine, never lying 
 down, in overflowing spirits to the end. I thought of it 
 yesterday when we were so wild with our ride. We have 
 seen it all before. O Mr. Venable ! " she said, raising her 
 eyes full of tears to his, " it is something worse than you 
 can imagine. The yellow-fever ! " 
 
 But at this moment Mr. Fanthorp entered ; and, a little 
 while after, Irene, white and nervous. " Isn't it awful, 
 terrible ! " she exclaimed : " we are all going on the next 
 bayou-boat. Be sure and be ready," she added, turning to 
 Mr. Fanthorp, who was standing hat in hand ; but, while 
 she spoke, her fears gave place, as she looked at him, to a 
 smile, and then to laughter, while he let fall his eyes and 
 stood with a deprecatory manner. Her amusement, seeing 
 that, was as soon gone as her fears. She arose from her 
 seat, and, going over to him, gave him her hand in a way 
 which conveyed the impression of something more than 
 mere frankness. During the rest of his stay there was a 
 gentleness on her part, and deference to Mr. Fanthorp, 
 which struck the trther gentleman, even in that anxious mo- 
 mnt. He looked at Miss Zeo ; but that lady lowered her 
 eyes with a rising color in her cheeks, and, notwithstanding 
 her tears, a demure smile on her lips. 
 
 " Zeo," her sister said, a little sharply, " I wish / knew 
 any thing to laugh at. Yellow-fever ! and all our packing to 
 do ! Do you know that two-thirds and more of St. Jerome 
 will have left in a week, Mr. Venable ? That's the advan- 
 tage of you bachelors. You will snatch up a valise, and be 
 gone in ten minutes. Papa is at the wharf; but please go, 
 Mr. Fanthorp, and get our tickets. You know there will be 
 thousands crowding the office, and you have so much more
 
 288 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 impudence than papa or anybody else. Get a ticket for Mr. 
 Venable too," and she followed the lawyer out into the 
 hall to give some directions ; for he meekly obeyed. 
 
 "You know," Irene, conscious of detection, shot back 
 that Parthian arrow in going out, " how agonizingly his Ex- 
 cellency our beloved governor will await us up the country. 
 Hurry, Zeo." 
 
 " I must not stop your packing, and I must get back to 
 Mr. Parsons's immediately," Mr. Venable said, moving to the 
 door. " If I should not see you again " and he held out 
 his hand to the lady in parting. But she did not arise from 
 her seat. She had ceased weeping, and sat as if almost un- 
 conscious of his presence. 
 
 " Yes," she said at last and very softly, " we are all going 
 to Sulphur St. Jerome, the Springs you know, till it is all 
 over. We sent Grit down to the boat this morning. There 
 will be happy days again." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," the other said as heartily as he 
 could. " But not for me. I mean, not for me in St. Je- 
 rome. I ought to tell you, Miss Zeo," he said with some 
 difficulty, as she lifted her eyes in astonishment to his, " I 
 have never whispered a word about it to any one, nor do 
 I intend to do so yet, but I intend leaving the island. The 
 church is too old for me, or I am too young for it. I want a 
 new enterprise in a fresh field. My mind has been slowly 
 coming to that, and the thing is settled. Of course I great- 
 ly regret" 
 
 "Then you leave immediately?" There was a sudden 
 coldness in the manner of the other as she asked it, the 
 tears gone from her eyes. 
 
 "Is it possible? After knowing me for nearly a year? 
 Can you imagine such a thing of me ? " Mr. Venable said, 
 after a silence ; and her color came under the mortification 
 expressed in his tones. " Such an idea never entered my 
 mind. I would be the basest of cowards if I did. Like
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 289 
 
 every other minister, I suppose, on the island, I intend to 
 stay and do what I can. It is after the fever is gone, and the 
 scattered church is back again, that I intend to leave. I 
 did not think that was a question." 
 
 " You are unacclimated, Mr. Venable," the other said, in 
 stronger tones. " If the fever is as it was the last time, the 
 probabilities are," and her eyes fell, "that you will die." 
 
 " If the certainties were I am ashamed to say any 
 thing, Miss Zeo, which sounds so much like boasting," her 
 companion checked himself. "-When I was invited here, I 
 took yellow-fever into the calculation. And do you know," 
 he added with grave but brightening eyes, " that it is no 
 merit in me at all ? One takes a pleasure in it, like going into 
 battle or into a storm. I believe, Miss Zeo, you, too, enjoyed 
 those days on the Nautilus. May Heaven bless you ! " he 
 said, with a sudden change in the direction of his excite- 
 ment. " Good-by." 
 
 "I wanted wanted," she said, rising at last, standing 
 before him, and looking steadily in his eyes, with a measure 
 of control over herself which mastered him also, " to thank 
 you, sir, to thank you for my father as well as for life ! " 
 If the quivering of the lips could have been under perfect 
 constraint, she would have succeeded. But it began there, 
 and it was too swift, too deep for her : it was stronger than 
 her strength. She had begun with being Zenobia, Queen of 
 Palmyra, but she ended with being merely Zeo. Possibly 
 she had been too severely tried the day before, and for so 
 long. 
 
 " It is I who have to thank you," he said, continuing to 
 hold her hand, when, being a clergyman, he should have 
 shaken and dropped it, " to thank you, as to yourself at 
 least, for giving me the chance. It was hardly in drowning 
 water, you know. Why," he added, "it was, at last, only a 
 few feet from shore. There was no romance in it at all. 
 Thank you, with all my heart. Good-by ! " He shook
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 hands, and went out like an apostle, went out to turn and 
 come back again like the weakest of men. 
 
 "Miss Zeo," he said, "you know it already, and what is 
 the use of my saying it? Ever since I came to understand 
 you, I have loved you, and would give my life for you " 
 
 " Would you believe it ! " Irene interrupted at this junc- 
 ture, rushing in, "a negro came to Mr. Fanthorp on the 
 steps as he was leaving, to say that Col. Roland is down, and 
 ever so many more. Oh, is it not terrible ! Yellow-fever ! 
 Just to think ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Venable, but we 
 must pack up. Good-by till we meet you on the bayou- 
 boat. Come, Zeo." There was a new authority as well as 
 gentleness in the volubility of the lively young lady. Their 
 visitor connected it in a vague way with the unwonted aspect 
 of Mr. Fanthorp ; but there was nothing to do but to go. 
 
 As he walked rapidly back to Mr. Parsons's, he saw loaded 
 wagons, crowded carriages, people hurrying little children 
 along in groups, negroes with wheelbarrows or bending un- 
 der great bundles : the whole town seemed out and hasten- 
 ing toward the wharves. For days after that the city papers 
 indignantly denied the fact, but all knew that their old 
 and terrible foe was upon them. The day was the more 
 beautiful in this, that its cloudless blue seemed somehow, as 
 has been said, to have closed in upon the island more nearly ; 
 the sea also girding it in with a deeper azure. It had 
 rained during the night, and yesterday's gale had slackened 
 into a softer wind, in which every plant and flower seemed 
 fresher and more fragrant. The sand along the broad 
 streets was as clean, beneath the oleander and Pride of 
 India trees, as the washing of last night's rain and the 
 eternal seas, as well as the bleaching of the sun, could make 
 it. For months before, all that soap and scrubbing, white- 
 washing, and every disinfectant could do, had been done 
 in anticipation. There was not a rotting banana or an 
 ill odor in the lowest alley. No vessel, so far as the most
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2QI 
 
 rigid watch could detect, had brought pestilence as passenger. 
 But the disease had come none the less ; the island was like 
 a steamship which had struck a hidden rock in the deepest 
 purity of the smoothest seas, the suddenness thereof being 
 the worst 'part of the shock. It was not, the young man no- 
 ticed, as in the days of the overflow when he first arrived. 
 That was an open, honest affair of bellowing thunder, raging 
 wind, inrushing ocean, elements which every child, to say 
 nothing of the seamen, had known and faced all its life. 
 But the fever was a deadlier disaster, a something silent, un- 
 seen, impalpable, infernal : the doctors understood as little 
 about it, the type it would take, the remedy it would obey, 
 as the youngest. St. Jerome had looked upon the overflow 
 as a tremendous joke ; an hilarious and generous good- 
 fellowship accompanied it. But there was no smile upon 
 any face now, and almost every person was wolfishly for 
 himself. The fugitives were liberal enough with their money 
 when safe from harm up the country, those who devoted 
 themselves upon the plague-stricken spot heroic enough 
 afterward ; but all that was afterward, indeed, not now. 
 
 When the minister went down to the wharf to see his 
 friends off, it was difficult at first to detect them amid the 
 multitudes with which the bayou-boat was crowded. Getting 
 up upon a timber, he saw them at last grouped together upon 
 the guards of the vessel. The bell had been ringing for some 
 time, but it seemed to be impossible to draw in the plank 
 upon which people were crowding on board in the terror 
 of flight. Suddenly a cry rang from the centre of the throng 
 upon the wharf, and it was scattered apart as by the force of 
 an explosion. The pestilence had pursued the flying mul- 
 titudes to the water's edge, smiting down a large and appar- 
 ently vigorous man in the act of pressing his way on board. 
 The vessel seemed itself to recoil, the crowd half on and 
 half off the deck being parted in the middle, as it drew 
 away from the wharf with an escape of steam from its
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 pipes whi :h sounded like a scream of terror ; two or three 
 persons falling into the sea to be fished out again with what 
 seemed to Mr. Venable hysterical peals of laughter. 
 
 As the boat backed farther away it rounded toward its 
 course ; and he looked up and saw Gen. Buttolph and Mr. 
 Fanthorp waving their hats to him in adieu, Irene calling 
 something which he could not hear, as she flourished her 
 handkerchief. The others were to him as nothing, however, 
 his attention being riveted upon Zeo, who stood silent and 
 still beside her father. As he lifted his hat she extended her 
 hand to him, but it was her face at the instant which struck 
 itself like a medallion into his memory. As he walked 
 slowly homeward he took that with him. Whatever was to 
 befall him, forevermore nothing could come between him 
 and that beloved face. 
 
 He was bewildered when he sat at supper with the 
 family that night. Surely Miss Zeo was mistaken. Mrs. 
 Parsons, pouring out the tea and coffee, had never seemed 
 quite so well, nor had little Owny in her high-chair beside 
 her been more blooming. Considering the arrival of the 
 fever at the island, the mirth, however, of the mother and 
 the child was somewhat out of place. 
 
 "But I never could see any use in grieving over what 
 cannot be helped," Mrs. Parsons said. " It is the people 
 who fear the fever most, who are sure to take it. Do look 
 at Ezra Micajah Papa ! You ought not to have run your 
 machine into the water. It is that which makes you as 
 grave as an owl. I told you so. I'm so glad Owny and I 
 are well and strong ! We will have you to nurse, Mr. Vena- 
 ble, since you are resolved to stay. It must have been the 
 funniest thing, your upset in the water ; " and she laughed 
 and rattled on even more than, usual. The brilliant eyes of 
 mother and child, the glory of their seeming health in 
 cheek and spirits, was terrible to see. It was impossible, 
 however, not to laugh, Mrs. Parsons was so amusing, little 
 Owny was so smart as well as sweet.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 293 
 
 " Div dis hug and dis tiss to Miss Zeo, Mr. Venny, nex' 
 time you sees her," the little darling said when that gentle- 
 man took her for a moment from her father, " 'cause she dot 
 so wet. I'm her 'ittle girl, and your 'ittle girl, and Ezra 
 Micajah Papa's. I'm Dod's own 'ittle bit of Owny, too ! 
 Take me out, Mr. Venny : I want to have a womp with you 
 out-doors. Dood-by, folkses ! " her chubby hands dancing 
 in the air, her fat and rosy face against her favorite's cheek, 
 her golden hair about her shoulders, the very double of her 
 mother, who was laughing and throwing kisses to her. 
 
 Tuesday was the day of the ride ; Wednesday they were 
 smitten ; Friday they were dead, mother and child, one in 
 this as in all else. Why tell of the increasing gayety until it 
 consumed itself in its own fires ? In vain the fragments of 
 ice continually swallowed as the only medicine : they seemed 
 to be but as so many living coals of fire instead to the raging 
 fever. And why detail the increasing agony in back and 
 shoulders, the nausea, the reddening eyes, the orange lines 
 tinging first the eyes and then saturating and swallowing up 
 the whole body as with a sunset of ghastly saffron, the vomit 
 as of coffee-grounds ? Then death, and a death over which 
 there can be not one moment of idle lamenting. Is not the 
 rapid decay of fruit always according to the exuberant ripe- 
 ness just before? For God's sake, hasten to hide the dead 
 out of sight ! 
 
 That was the beginning. The tears of even the desolated 
 inventor were dried up as by the simoom of the fever now 
 raging with ever-increasing fury and breadth of sweep. Very 
 soon three-fourths of the population had fled. Not a soul 
 was left in the lately crowded city but such as poverty or 
 duty held there. Mr. Venable was glad that there was too 
 much to do for him to stop and think. In a week his horror 
 was gone. There was no time for such weakness. Until he 
 was himself struck down, nothing now but a work vastly more 
 Christian than preaching. Church and sabbath were for the
 
 294 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 time abolished ; and St. Jerome had to fall back upon the 
 religion of which church and sabbath, scriptures, sacraments, 
 revival, are nothing whatever, and worse than nothing, if they 
 are not but merely its outer and temporary channels, had 
 to revert to the religion which precedes, as it will eternally 
 survive, these transient agencies thereof. Visiting the sick, 
 burying the dead, caring for the destitute survivors, work 
 was the duty until he should himself die ; steady, unceasing 
 work. In a little while he adjusted himself to it as if it had 
 been his life for years. 
 
 "John Howard had not an atom of sentiment," he would 
 often say to himself as he toiled with the noble association 
 bearing that name, " any more than I. That is a luxury for 
 the people that are up the country, and it will keep for us 
 till afterward. Just now, as Mr. Parsons would say, senti- 
 ment is fiddlesticks."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE MIDNIGHT DARKENS TOWARD DAWN. 
 
 NOW, why do you suppose why?" It was Mr. Par- 
 sons who asked it of his guest. The inventor was 
 standing at his blackboard, chalk in hand. When Mr. 
 Venable had first known him he was old and lean, rapid in 
 talk and walk, and very dry ; yet, while the sirocco of the 
 pestilence had scorched him until he seemed to be many 
 years older, leaner, dryer, than before, it had ripened him 
 into a greater sweetness. Long ago Mr. Venable had 
 found out that the visionary schemes of his host, manifold, 
 and perpetually changing, were merely the froth made by 
 the current, and by the very rapidity of the current of his 
 purpose, a current as deep and strong as it was swift. 
 
 " Why ? " his friend answered him, " excuse me, why 
 what ? " 
 
 " There is a reason at the root of every thing," Mr. Par- 
 sons said, "a reason which is its root. If I can find the 
 precise acid, I can also find the exact alkali to counteract it. 
 The fever ravaged New York .in 1822 : why has it not been 
 there since? It devastates tropical America and Africa: 
 why not India and China ? There is a why for its appear- 
 ance in Vera Cruz and Panama, and never in Bombay or 
 Calcutta. Why do Spaniards, Italians, French get well, 
 and Irish, Germans, and Scotch almost always die? The 
 doctors squabble as to whether cathartics, stimulants, or
 
 296 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 ice applied within and without, is best or worst. Frost kills 
 the fever instantly. Now," Mr. Parsons went on, sketch- 
 ing his plan upon the board, " why not make a room, say, 
 like that, a room which is also a refrigerator ? Put your 
 patient from the outset in a New England, in an arctic 
 zone of ice. I have got my machine-shop boarded up, and 
 with double walls. If I can get ether enough, I will clap 
 you in with the first symptom, and try the freezing process." 
 "Thank you," his friend said, "but not yet I hope. 
 How many weeks is it, Mr. Parsons? For the first two or 
 three I was in a rush of excitement. Then I was so tired 
 out that I worked and walked mechanically, as I have been 
 told that soldiers have been known to march sleeping. I 
 have got into the third stage. The yellow-fever seems to us 
 all as if it were the natural order of things, matter of 
 course, as if it always had raged and always would. But 
 how desolate it is ! " he added, rising and standing beside his 
 friend, who was making calculations upon his board. " St. 
 Jerome is more terrible to me than the cemetery. I go 
 through whole streets without seeing a soul. The houses 
 are all shut up, and seem suddenly dilapidated. Besides the 
 wagons carrying the dead, and the handful of hacks fol- 
 lowing them, I have not seen a vehicle for years, it seems to 
 me. I sometimes wonder if people are laughing anywhere 
 in the world. You never see a child. The babies all died 
 during the first week. There must be something, Mr. Par- 
 sons," he added, "which makes the grass grow that much 
 the faster as the people die. Everywhere oleanders are 
 forcing themselves up between the bricks and flag-stones of 
 what used to be the busiest streets. And how sepulchral 
 the sea looks ! We would not miss the steamers and ships 
 if there were any sail-boats. The water laps sluggishly 
 against the rotting wharves, as if it were that of a dead sea 
 which never had borne a boat, and never would. There is 
 such a dead halt ! It is as if the old serpent himself had
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 2Q7 
 
 coiled his slimy strength around the island, holding it per- 
 fectly still, and all the air is his venomous breath. Night 
 before last I dreamed that you had bored an artesian well 
 in your yard many miles deep, had filled it with nitro- 
 glycerine, and were in the act of firing it off in order to blow 
 the globe to atoms, when in trying to stop you I awoke. 
 And so again last night I started from a deep sleep, Mr. Par- 
 sons, and it was to me as if the whole universe were standing 
 stock still. There was not a stir, not a sound. Sea, sky, 
 earth, air, myself all seemed to me to be dead. I know I 
 ought not to yield to it ; but for an hour I lay motionless as 
 a stone, and St. Jerome and all we knew and loved here, 
 church and friends, were to me as much gone, and for ever 
 and ever, as the cities and people before the flood. Worse ; 
 for a terrible time Christianity was dead, too ! its graces 
 and good works, its saints and martyrs, its very God. It 
 was terrible ! " 
 
 " It was fiddlesticks. Ether would cost," his friend said, 
 summing up the results on his board, " two bits an ounce. 
 Now it would take, say, one dozen ounces to freeze you 
 down to, say, 30 or 40 I mean, to keep you for a week 
 as if under a white frost. Twelve twenty-fives is three dol- 
 lars. Very well, let us grant that four thousand people are 
 left in St. Jerome. If we had the refrigerators ready I couUi 
 lock up every soul in a temporary winter with twelve thou^ 
 sand dollars worth of ether. I will go right away and con- 
 sult the Howard Association. Since the doctors fail, some^ 
 body must contrive something. Come, let us go." 
 
 There certainly was no inducement to stay behind. Every 
 negro on the place had died ; and, there being rjo one to 
 work, the house and workshops, warehouses and grounds, 
 had fallen into woeful neglect. Here, as everywhere, the 
 great tide of human life which had ceased from the animal 
 kingdom seemed, as Mr. Venable said, to have found chan- 
 nels for itself in the vegetable j and, in the soft, moist, still,
 
 298 A YEAR WORTH 'LIVING. 
 
 and almost sultry weather, fig-trees and bananas, orange, 
 lemon, and locust, as well as the oleander and china trees, 
 were flourishing in licentious disorder as well as riotous 
 exuberance. Especially did the ill-smelling ailanthus run 
 riot, as if it found a fattening in the atmosphere, foul with 
 disease, beyond that of the sandy soil. 
 
 Mr. Parsons would talk of nothing, as they walked along, 
 but ether and the best modes of evaporating it ; and it was 
 a relief to his companion to excuse himself as having to 
 visit Father Fethero. 
 
 " Bless me ! " Mr. Parsons said. " I thought he was dead 
 long ago. Poor old soul ! Tell him from me that the most 
 sensible thing he can do is to go to heaven. Get your din- 
 ner somewhere, Mr. Venable : you know we have nobody 
 to cook it but ourselves. I wonder," the inventor added, 
 halted by the sudden thought, " if the fever can penetrate 
 those boxes. If it can get at my condensed vegetables and 
 Focussed Flesh, it will be dreadful. There are twenty thou- 
 sand dollars worth. I will pack them in that refrigerator as 
 soon as I get back. I will leave space for you." And the 
 grim humor of the old man was not peculiar to himself. 
 As by a re-action from the horrors of the time, every one 
 said the most amusing things he could, even in the act 
 of handling the dying and the dead. ' But the mirth was 
 confined to the saying of witty things : people had almost 
 lost the faculty of laughing. " The brain acts," Mr. Ven- 
 able said to himself in parting from his friend, " when the 
 muscles refuse to do so. I suppose this is why whiskey 
 affects these miserable topers as it does. They do not 
 laugh nor fight now. Baser passions, the sedimental mud 
 and vilest dregs of the soul, are stirred instead. Surely it is 
 as if the Devil were in the whiskey as in the air. If the steal- 
 ing were all," he added to himself; "but" and he shud- 
 dered as he remembered the awful desecration of the dead 
 by wretches fired with the madness of an hour when the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 299 
 
 dividing line between the worlds was vanishing, and the 
 powers of the pit came as well as went freely over demol- 
 ished barriers. 
 
 "Thank God!" he said as he opened and entered 
 Father Fethero's front door without knocking, "that the 
 walls between earth and heaven also are obliterated. How 
 are you to-day, Father Fethero?" 
 
 It had always been a poor place ; but the poverty had 
 become squalid now. The widowed daughter of the old 
 man had died at the outbreak of the pestilence ; having, as 
 Mr. Parsons had remarked at the time, " the good sense to 
 take all her children with her." The garden was a mass of 
 weeds. Here, as elsewhere over the city, the paling and 
 fences had been more or less torn down by those who 
 needed fuel and could get it nowhere else. Mr. Venable 
 had often seen wretched women doing it, as well as pallid 
 and miserable children, the men of the house being dead 
 or assisting in regard to the sick and the dying. So far 
 from blaming them, he had torn away many a heavy arm- 
 ful himself, from garden and front yard, and borne it to 
 their houses for trembling women or for puny girls. As to 
 carrying buckets of water, he was as zealous with that as 
 with lifting the dead into the hearse and lowering them 
 into the grave. But oh, the weariness of travelling over and 
 over again that road to the cemetery ! He had come to 
 know every winding and turning of the well-worn road, 
 every tree and hillock, almost every weed and pebble, he 
 had gone over it to and fro so often. 
 
 " How are you, Father Fethero? " He had fallen into a 
 mechanical cheerfulness of voice and manner ; and he knew 
 how the sick man was. With small variation, it was the 
 same set of symptoms over again in every case. 
 
 " Such deadly nausea," the old man replied. " Such a 
 burning in the stomach ! The pain in the front of my head 
 is terrible, worse than in my back ; and then the weight
 
 3OO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 on me ! How am I ? I don't know. I do not know. I 
 plainly perceive a yes, a gloom." 
 
 No wonder ! His face was flushed and swollen, and with 
 an aspect of distress seen in no other disease unless it be 
 hydrophobia. The eyes were red as coals of fire, the breath 
 slow and irregular, the skin hot, dry, harsh. Mr. Venable 
 felt the pulse : it was at a hundred and fifty, the heart pump- 
 ing as in a sinking ship. The protruded tongue was red at 
 the edges ; in the eyes the first faint flush, amid the scarlet, 
 of the ghastly yellow. 
 
 " Mr. Quatty was with you, I suppose, during the night, 
 and Capt. Chaffin before him? " the visitor asked. 
 
 "Were they?" the sick man said, his face like that of 
 some coin from which the lines by long use are almost worn 
 out. " Somebody was here. Yes : one tried to cheer me 
 up by telling about the grand pictures somebody painted. 
 The other, yes, it was Mr. Quatty : he told me all over 
 again about his having risen from being an oysterman, and 
 told me that so I might from my sickness ; but he prayed 
 for me afterward. The night was a year long at least. I 
 don't know ; I do not know." 
 
 " Are you willing to go, dear sir? " his friend asked. 
 
 " I am very willing," Father Fethero said, in broken sen- 
 tences. " One would like more ground. Two feet is not 
 enough for a grave. I know they come to water ; but I saw 
 the foot of a man when I was there Friday. No, it was a 
 woman. I got a shovel, and covered it up. What I can do, 
 I always try to do. Stand in the gap, that's what I try hard 
 to do in the gap ; yes, stand in the gap " very wearily. 
 
 " I know that my Redeemer liveth," began his friend. 
 
 " Most assuredly," the old man, seeming so very, very 
 old and poor and utterly worn out, interrupted the other, 
 his horny hand held up. " Yes, I know that he lives ; and 
 I know that he has stood on the earth. Yes, and I know 
 that in my flesh I shall see God. Mine eyes shall behold
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 3OI 
 
 him, and not another's. Yes. But I'm not going to tell 
 lies with my last breath. I cannot say, I will not assert" 
 it was said with the utmost energy of the failing man 
 " that I ever have seen him yet. No, nor that I understand 
 him now in that matter ; no, not one bit ! I will, you know, 
 but not yet ; no, sir. If you had known how hard I have 
 worked ! I have walked and ridden, ah, yes, ridden and 
 walked ; prayed and preached, preached and prayed ; wept 
 and besought, besought and wept. I will be told in heaven, 
 you observe. But I do not know now. It wasn't money I 
 wanted. When I tried so hard it was for souls. If the 
 Master had only given a poor toiling servant," he 
 spoke with great difficulty now, struggling to get breath, his 
 hand rising and falling as when he led in public prayer, 
 " could have given his poor soldier a few souls now 
 and then " 
 
 " Dear Father Fethero, listen ; " and, with his hand on 
 the arm of the other, his visitor slowly repeated the Twenty- 
 third Psalm. 
 
 " Ah, yes, yes ! " said the sick man before he was well 
 through, " but never tell a lie, my young brother. The green 
 pastures are no more in the wilderness than the still water : 
 it is on the other side of Jordan." He spoke with revived 
 energy. " Not but that I've had a little taste now and then. 
 But it was honey from the rock; honey, more like, out of 
 some lion I had to rend if I wasn't Samson. I've had a 
 hard life as a general thing, a mighty hard time. Crucified 
 with Him ! Yes, and the crucifixion isn't done until you are 
 dead. Very well. Now I ask," and the sick man argued 
 the point with his forefingers point to point as from the 
 pulpit, " if the crucifixion of Christ was an atonement full 
 and sufficient, why must I be crucified too? Heh? All 
 three are alike crucified, the penitent thief and impenitent 
 thief, every one of us, as well as Christ ; crucified we are, 
 every man of us, and to death. I tell you," he said in the
 
 3O2 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 delirious energy of his disease, " the Lord Jesus is not the 
 weak and womanish person people think he is in and out 
 of the pulpit. Thou shall rule them with a rod of iron ! 
 He is a master. He is a great king. He is the terrible 
 Jehovah" 
 
 " Dear Father Fethero," entreated his friend. 
 
 " For years on years I have been going over it all 
 night," the other went on, not regarding him, "I prayed 
 and toiled and wept. It was not money. With strong cry- 
 ing and tears souls, it was souls, I wanted. And he was 
 as a rock to my entreaty. Say I was not talented, say I was 
 dull and tedious, say I had such a shabby coat and face too. 
 I suppose so, but what I wanted, was desperate for, was 
 souls, the conversion of perishing souls. Jane not the 
 Jane that died when the fever came Jane's mother. My 
 wife. People said she was my better sense. Well, why was 
 she taken, then ? It was hard enough on me before. I tell 
 you," the old man said, lifting himself up with terrible eyes, 
 " he has been a hard, hard, hard Master to me ! " 
 
 " We thank thee, O God," the other said, in tones low 
 and steady and strong, his eyes closed to shut out the sight 
 as he knelt, " we do heartily thank thee that Jesus died for 
 us. But we bless thee that we also die ; that we are cruci- 
 fied with Christ, crucified in the body 'of sin. We bless 
 thee that, even as Jesus was, so are we arrested, scourged, 
 mocked, spitted on, held fast on our cross ; and we do praise 
 thee that thus not we, but our sins, are killed. We bless 
 thee that scourge and nails are ours also " 
 
 "And," interrupted the other, his clasped hands feebly 
 rising and falling in the accents of supplication, "we do 
 magnify thee that thou dost no more hear our cries in our 
 Gethsemane than thou didst the agony of thine only Son. 
 Sin has got to go ! We do indeed drink of thy cup. Not 
 my will, but thine, be done. Amen." 
 
 His pulse had become more frequent, yet feeble; the
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 303 
 
 deadly sunset was spreading its yellow hues over face and 
 neck and hands. There was the calmness, at last, of peace 
 upon the toil-worn countenance. He held the hand of his 
 friend in his as he said it, his whole aspect so serene that 
 his companion smiled at the contradiction in his words. 
 
 " I can't lie, my young brother. It would be playing the 
 part of Ananias to pretend to any raptures. That was never 
 my gift from God. My life has been a hard, a very hard 
 life, that's the fact ; but not as much so as His. Something 
 awful in sin, my brethren, since God had to endure. God, 
 you see, as well as you and I ! We will have it explained 
 hereafter. I am not happy. I never was. I plainly per- 
 ceive a gloom. But I do see light beyond it. He loves 
 me, but he is keeping it for me there. I couldn't under- 
 stand. Not to save my life I couldn't. I can't now. But 
 I always loved him. I haven't done any thing for him, 
 but I tried to as hard as I knew how. It's all right ; I mean, 
 it will be all right." 
 
 Then came the change which, by this time, the one watch- 
 ing at his side knew so well. It was with difficulty, that, 
 supporting the head of the dying man with one arm, Mr. 
 Venable endeavored to wipe away from the struggling lips 
 the dark froth which was the corruption of death already 
 doing its work within. Father Fethero put him aside with 
 violence, his eyes looking straight before him. 
 
 "Get out of my way, will you?" he said, with irritation. 
 "Go to one side, children. Mary, Henry, Jane all of 
 you ! Why, wife Jane ! Don't you see how you stop me, 
 Jane ? Out of the way, out of the way, all of you ! " He 
 said it with a gesture of both extended arms, like that of 
 a man in swimming. " Not now. Wait ! Wait ! In one 
 moment ! " as if he were pressing his way through a throng- 
 ing crowd. " Get out of the way, all of you ! I want to get 
 to Him. I want to ask Him " 
 
 As the young man withdrew his arm, and let the head of
 
 304 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the departed saint rest upon his pillow, though the words 
 were through his own lips, they came as from another, 
 speaking by him : " Blessed are the dead which die in the 
 Lord, that they may rest from their labors ; and their works 
 do follow them."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SULPHUR ST. JEROME, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE. 
 
 WHEN Gen. Buttolph fled from the island, he had 
 taken his family some hundreds of miles into the 
 upland interior of the State, to a spot famous for its medici- 
 nal springs. Quite a village had sprung up there of log 
 cabins, clapboard shanties, and tents inhabited mainly by 
 refugees from the fever ; and in one of the more substantial 
 of these temporary homes the general was living with his 
 household. For more than fifty miles southward, and 
 stretching indefinitely northward, the rolling prairies were 
 almost unsettled as yet, deer, antelope, wolves, and bears 
 being the only inhabitants except when the region was raided 
 upon by savages from the wilder wilderness farther north 
 ajid west. 
 
 Some weeks after flying from the pestilence, Mr. Fanthorp 
 was out upon a hunting expedition a score of miles from 
 Sulphur St. Jerome, as the encampment of the refugees was 
 called, accompanied by Gov. Magruder. They had slept 
 one night under the open sky, a blanket beneath them, 
 their heads upon their saddles, the eyes of each being pro- 
 tected from the brilliant light of the moon by his broad- 
 brimmed felt hat placed over his face. 
 
 "Look at that tarantula, governor," Mr. Fanthorp ex- 
 claimed as he arose in the morning, and shook an enormous 
 spider off his blanket. " It must have been next my jugular
 
 3O6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 vein all night. If it had bitten me " and he indulged in a 
 good deal of fun, while he rolled up and strapped together 
 his blankets, as to his weeping creditors and their vain 
 search after his assets, since a bite would have been death. 
 
 " Hang it, Farce, don't make such a to-do ! A quart of 
 whiskey would have cured" the other began, and then 
 arose slowly and cautiously from the camp-fire over which he 
 had been boiling coffee in a tin cup. " Yes ; but we've drunk 
 up the whiskey. What is it?" his companion asked, for his 
 friend, with his head upon one side, his right hand held up 
 in a warning manner, was apparently listening as if to some- 
 thing in the distance. 
 
 "Indians?" Mr. Fanthorp again asked, grasping his rifle 
 which lay at his feet. 
 
 As he spoke the other made a clutch at his trousers just 
 above the knee, and, holding the handful of cloth as far off 
 as he could from his flesh, he cried, 
 
 " Quick, Fanthorp ! cut it out. Centipede ! " 
 
 The knife was mislaid, of course : it always is in cases of 
 emergency, as Mr. Fanthorp, rushing about here and there 
 among their "traps," explained with many an oath, urging 
 his friend meanwhile to " hold on ! " As soon as it was 
 found, Mr. Fanthorp, having sharpened its twelve inches of 
 steel upon his boot, proceeded with rapid but artistic care to 
 cut away from the leg of the other the handful of clothing. 
 As he did so the governor threw it upon the ground. Sure 
 enough it was a centipede, with its coats of mediaeval armor, 
 and its multitudinous legs. The lawyer lifted the tin cup 
 from the coals, inserted his knife under the reptile as it lay, 
 and dropped it, coiling itself upon the blade and biting at it, 
 into the centre of the fire. 
 
 "A tarantula," he added as he replaced the cup over its 
 expiring agonies, " is bad enough. But a centipede ! You 
 can take my hat, Magruder. I see you, but can go no better. 
 My vermin is to yours what a cat is to a tiger : a tarantula,
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 307 
 
 when no whiskey is to be had, is death ; but a centipede is 
 death and perdition ! " 
 
 His companion drank his coffee, and ate his pork and corn- 
 pone, in comparative silence. Nor did he return to the sub- 
 ject until they neared Sulphur St. Jerome toward night, each 
 with a deer strapped across his horse behind him. 
 
 " Fan thorp," he said at last, " do you know I wouldn't 
 have cared a cent if that thing had stuck every leg it had 
 into me? " 
 
 " What are you up to, governor ? I have been wonder- 
 ing," his friend replied, " that you have not laughed at my 
 jokes. You haven't heard a word I said. What is the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Farce Fan thorp," he replied after some silence, " I don't 
 believe you ever had a serious thought in your life ; and 
 you'd be the last man living I would talk to if you were not 
 going to marry her sister. Ride slower : my trousers are cut 
 up too bad for us to get in before dark." 
 
 "Well, what is it?" the other asked when nothing had 
 been said for some time. 
 
 "You know what a man I have been, Fanthorp," the 
 governor began reluctantly. 
 
 "Well, what then?" the other asked. 
 
 "This, sir," he continued: "knowing what I've been, 
 knowing that everybody who sees us together, she and I, 
 knows what I've been, I swear to you I can't talk to her, 
 to save my life. Don't I know how pure and beautiful and 
 good she is ? Every time I dare to try and talk to her, I 
 could spit in my own face. I am a scoundrel, but I can't 
 play the hypocrite, Fanthorp ; " and the other drew his horse 
 to a halt as he said it : "I can't and I won't 7 " 
 
 "Won't what?" his friend asked anxiously, for he had 
 much at stake. 
 
 " I wish the centipede had killed me as dead as a ham- 
 mer. Look here, Fanthorp," the executive of the past and
 
 3O8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 the senator of the future added, " every time I see her I 
 feel as if I could crawl. I am trying to steal her, because 
 she is so ignorant of me. It is as if I were sneaking into a 
 man's tent, and trying to steal his money while he is asleep ; 
 the meanest scoundrel and liar that ever lived ! I am a 
 gentleman, sir," shouted the man, " if I am a scamp ; and I 
 won't, and I'll be cursed if I do ! " 
 
 Now, as a lawyer, Mr. Fanthorp would have argued the 
 point for argument sake. Moreover, he had indulged in no 
 scruples in his own case. Above all, it was essential to his 
 interests that the governor should become his brother-in-law. 
 Hating Col. Roland as he did, he intended, in virtue of 
 such an alliance, to oust the colonel from his guardianship 
 of the governor. Surer revenge than that he could not 
 desire. 
 
 " Only let me see this popular fool safely married to Zeo," 
 he said to himself as often before while the other was talking, 
 " and myself to her sister, my fortune is made. With him 
 in the senate, there is hardly any thing in the State, or per- 
 haps in the federal gift, but I can get ; there's the St. Jerome 
 custom-house, the post-office at least. Roland never had 
 any trouble making him do any thing he wanted ! " 
 
 " Let's ride on, Magruder," he said to him soothingly, and 
 added, " the fact is, confess, man, you care nothing for Miss 
 Buttolph ; why not say so at once, and be done with it? " 
 
 " You are a liar, sir ! " His companion said it in the low- 
 est of tones, shifting the reins of his horse as he did so to 
 his left hand, his right going instinctively to the revolver in 
 his belt ; for such language was not often used with impu- 
 nity in that region. Grasping that to be prepared for what- 
 ever might result, he deliberately repeated, 
 
 " You are a liar, sir, and you know it ! " and then added 
 in a way which left no doubt of his sincerity, 
 
 " Not love her ! Look here, you ! I love her as no 
 woman ever was loved before ! You know how I've been
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 309 
 
 raised on my plantation ; and I never knew, how could I 
 know? what love was until I met her. Here I've been these 
 months, and the more I see of her the worse it is. The 
 longer I know her, the harder it comes to talk to her. Not 
 love her ! " 
 
 " And yet you don't want to marry her," the other said, 
 swarthier than ever with his anger, but controlling himself 
 for a purpose. 
 
 " Marry her ! " the governor replied with suppressed 
 fury, " marry her ! as if she would marry such a fellow as I 
 am ! Can't you understand, it's because I love her that 
 I do not dare to ask her to have me ! " 
 
 There was a vehement sincerity in the man, which stag- 
 gered the lawyer. But Mr. Fanthorp was a lawyer whose 
 client had every thing at stake ; and that client was himself. 
 As they rode slowly along, once more he beat his brains as 
 to what to say, and added at last, 
 
 " Look here, Magruder, do you know that Mr. Venable is 
 dead in love with her? You are going to let him cut you 
 out, are you ? " 
 
 " Venable ! " The governor repeated the name in a stu- 
 pid way. Like an Andalusian bull, which comes suddenly 
 upon a man standing before it in the ring apparently un- 
 armed, his surprise allowed no room for animosity. " Ven- 
 able? He's a splendid fellow; but I'm not afraid," he said 
 simply, while the other remarked to himself, "They call 
 Charlie Chaffingsby an idiot. Great heavens ! he is a Solo- 
 mon compared to this one. 
 
 " Gov. Magruder," he continued aloud and with all grav- 
 ity, " I am glad I have to do with a man of your intelli- 
 gence" 
 
 " Hang intelligence ! No, Farce Fanthorp, no," the states- 
 man replied, confronting him with the same honesty of 
 aspect. " That is in Roland's line. It won't work." 
 
 " Hear me out, sir ; " the attorney emphasized the request
 
 3IO A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 with an oath. " What I was going to say is, that I appeal 
 to you as to a man of honor. Here you have been waiting 
 upon Miss Buttolph for months, in the presence, sir, of all 
 St. Jerome. With the eyes of the whole State upon you, 
 sir, you have led the lady, above all, to believe that you 
 intended to ask her to be your wife ; and am I to under- 
 stand that you contemplate so dishonorable a thing" and 
 the astonishment of the lawyer was exceeded only by his 
 disgust " as to fly the track ? It is impossible ! You do 
 such a thing? " 
 
 His companion looked at him blankly at first, then stroked 
 his beard with a thoughtful countenance ; then, as the light 
 came into his eyes, he held out his hand to the other in a 
 burst of pleasure, and cried, " I had not thought of that ! I 
 always told Roland I was too great a scamp ; but he led 
 me on, and now I am in honor bound as you say. That's a 
 fact: she ought not to accept such a fellow; but I can 
 try, you know ; she may : who can tell? " The face of the 
 man was as full of delight as that of a boy ; and, it being 
 now quite dark, the two rode into camp in excellent humor, 
 the governor often repeating, " I'm bound to do it, that's a 
 fact." 
 
 The next morning, as Zeo Buttolph sat with her sister 
 under the live-oak which overhung their cabin, Irene said 
 to her, 
 
 "Wasn't the letter pa handed you just now from St. 
 Jerome, Zeo ? " 
 
 "Yes;" and, as her sister said it, her eyes were full in 
 those of Irene, who seemed unusually petulant. 
 
 " It was very imprudent. Don't you know the infection 
 may be carried in paper? Suppose you should catch the 
 disease? Do you think I would stay and nurse you? I 
 would not do it ! I would run away ! O Zeo, Zeo ! " she 
 added with indignation. And she may have been right; 
 for, judging by the color in her sister's face, there had been
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 311 
 
 fever in the letter, which she had read over more than 
 once. 
 
 " Tell me one thing, Zeo, for there's no good in arguing 
 with you: are you," Irene demanded, "going to answer 
 it?" 
 
 " No ; " and it was said with such smiling composure, that 
 her sister smote her hands together, and then kissed her 
 with sudden affection ; adding, as she lifted her head, " you 
 are right, Zeo ! and yonder is the governor getting off his 
 horse to come here. I do hope he will be brave enough 
 this time. Good-by, you darling ! Help him as much as 
 you can." 
 
 As she disappeared in the cabin, the gentleman approached. 
 He was dressed with care. His superfine broadcloth fitted 
 him admirably, his linen was of the whitest and finest ; his 
 barber had done the little nature had left undone in his 
 black hair and silken beard. But he seemed painfully awk- 
 ward as he drew near : his cordial eyes were troubled, his 
 manner was that of a big schoolboy on his way to receive 
 a well-deserved chastisement. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Zeo," he said as he stood before 
 her, hat in hand. " I hope you liked the venison I sent. 
 Excuse me, I cannot," he continued rapidly and as if afraid 
 to stop, as she arose and offered him the camp-stool vacated 
 by Irene. "I am leaving for good this morning, and I 
 merely called to say good-by. And I wished to say, Miss 
 Zeo, what I've been trying to say for months, that that " 
 The young girl looked up at her tall and pleasant-faced 
 lover with interest. The man was desperate ; the perspira- 
 tion stood upon his forehead, his face was white and set. 
 If he had been going into battle he could not have been so 
 nervous or determined as he added, " that that I love 
 you with all my heart and soul, madam I mean miss; 
 and I beg you to be my wife. I do love you," he said with 
 a thrill of honest energy, " but, no, no, please don't, don't 
 say one word ! not yet "
 
 312 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 "Gov. Magruder," the young lady replied, with great 
 dignity as well as modesty, " I thank you. If you will allow 
 me " 
 
 But the other, although with all deference, would not 
 suffer her to continue. 
 
 " No, no, Miss Buttolph. Pardon my rudeness," he said, 
 "but I cannot bear to have you say any thing now. Please 
 think it over. I will see you in St. Jerome. I assure you 
 of my deepest respect as well as affection ; but I cannot 
 take your answer now, really cannot ! I will write. Par- 
 don me, but let me hope," he added, with the anxiety of a 
 boy and the embarrassment of a girl : " you will understand 
 it your excellent sense Good-afternoon ; " and with a 
 hurried bow he hastened away. In a moment after he had 
 mounted his horse in charge of a negro at a little distance ; 
 and the sound of his departing hoofs was drowned in the 
 laughter of Irene, who had heard it all, as she ran out of the 
 cabin to kiss and tease her sister. 
 
 " Good-afternoon ! when it isn't ten o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. I wish Mr. Fan thorp had been here to have seen it," 
 she said. " Accept my congratulations, Mrs. Gov. Magruder. 
 When do you leave for Washington ? And as sure as you 
 live, Zeo, he is so popular that Mr, Fanthorp and Col. 
 Roland between them will make him President yet : see if 
 they don't ! " And Irene threw her arms about her sister, 
 crying as well as laughing in her excitement.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 313 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 MR. VENABLE IS RE-ENFORCED. 
 
 OCTOBER and November were gone at last. They de- 
 parted laden with hundreds of souls ; for never had 
 the yellow-fever raged as terribly before in St. Jerome. But 
 the death-rate had fallen to a dozen a day, then to six or 
 eight, lately to two or three. It was not that the malaria 
 was exhausted, but that its material had been used up ; the 
 fever was slackening its fires for lack of fuel. The labors of 
 the young pastor and his associates, for he was but one of a 
 band of heroes, slowly diminished. With more sleep and in- 
 creasing appetite, his spirits revived, began, in fact, as the 
 days of rest came on, to be as fresh as ever. He thanked 
 God for the tide of life beginning again to rise within him, 
 conscious that he was as much the creature of its ebb and 
 flow as any bubble lifted and lowered again upon the sea 
 round about him. 
 
 He was not surprised when he was summoned one day 
 to Capt. Chaffin's house ; but he blamed himself for not feel- 
 ing more sadness when he stood there beside the dead. 
 It was Clara, and she lay in her own room as if sleeping 
 sweetly. The little Israelitish maid was portrayed upon 
 the wall over her head ; a very little maid indeed in com- 
 parison with the mighty Naaman whose leprous condition 
 was frightful to see, and whom she was in the act of urging, 
 with violence, to seek the prophet. The visitor could smile
 
 314 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 as he saw it ; for there was nothing to distress him in the 
 little damsel of the better Artist lying beneath. It was 
 one of the few instances in which the disease had not 
 stained the dead with its horrible yellow, and no dream of 
 genius carved in purest marble could have been so beautiful. 
 He had no feeling of regret, the reverse instead, as he tried 
 to photograph upon his mind with steady and almost criti- 
 cal gaze the arch of the brows, the delicacy of forehead 
 and nostril, the curve of cheek and chin, the Cupid's own 
 bow of the mouth, the sculptured perfection of the hands 
 clasped on the bosom. He had but the moment, as of 
 photographing, in which to do it ; for the body, more per- 
 ishable than the white roses lying upon its bosom, must be 
 hastened out of sight. " We can safely leave her to the lov- 
 ing Hand which made her," he said. " He who formed her 
 from the dust to be so lovely, will raise her again in the 
 perfection of an intellect in keeping with a form so fair." 
 Beside himself no one was present but the father, his face 
 sad but not bitter, his aspect breathing of patient sub- 
 mission only. Mr. Quatty had his hearse at the door ; but 
 there was no one to tend his horses, standing with drooping 
 heads, worn out with funerals, and he waited outside until 
 the brief services were over. Then Mr. Venable took his 
 place while Mr. Quatty and the father brought down the 
 coffin, and placed it in the hearse. Mr. Quatty was the most 
 sympathetic of men ; but he had little to say to Capt. Chaf- 
 fin, who rode beside him as they drove down the only street 
 in which the grass was kept under, that which led to the 
 cemetery ; emotion was exhausted for the present. The idiot 
 brother laughed loud and long, when, idling at the gate in 
 vigorous health, rosy and fat, he saw the coffin placed in 
 the hearse ; but no one thought even of wondering why the 
 one was taken and the other left : they were too tired ; and 
 that question also would keep until afterward. There is no 
 one else to watch with Mrs. Chaffingsby, and Mr. Venable
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 315 
 
 goes back and to. her room until her husband returns. He is 
 hardly aware of the Judith pictured upon the wall, holding 
 the head of Holofernes over that of the artist lying beneath. 
 He is barely conscious that it is a portentous Judith, which 
 dwarfs the meagre creator thereof into a mere mite, for he 
 had no idea before how very small and frail she was. The 
 fever is raging at its hottest in her. Her eyes are as coals 
 of fire ; her tongue is tremulous with the fierceness of the 
 heat ; her wasted arms, the white sleeves falling away like 
 films of ashes from them, rise and flicker, and fall and rise 
 again, as if they were the very flames which consumed her. 
 She will not pause for Scripture or prayer, much less for con- 
 versation, but talks incessantly. 
 
 "You put me out dreadfully that day," she said before he 
 had taken his seat. " I had my plan all ready. It was to 
 cover the walls of our church as they do in Italy with the 
 saints. I wanted to tell you. You didn't know about 
 Clara. All the world knew. I wanted to tell you my plan, 
 but you struck me with that, and drove it out of me. But it 
 came again afterward. It was so cruel, when I was trying 
 to get used to Clara ! You didn't tell him, captain ? No, I 
 ought not to have told you my plan. You could not un- 
 derstand. We could " 
 
 At this moment the door behind Mr. Venable opened 
 softly. " Come in, my dear," the dying woman exclaimed, 
 with uninterrupted tongue : " you will make a better Ma- 
 donna than a Rachel ; you are dark and deep like her. 
 You know something great, and you keep silence " 
 
 He had watched over too many a raving sufferer of late 
 to be easily moved ; yet, as Mrs. Chafifingsby talked on, he 
 turned, and, to his horror more even than surprise, he saw 
 it was Zeo Buttolph. 
 
 "Miss Zeo!" he exclaimed, started to his feet. "Are 
 you mad? Pardon me, but go quick ! " As he said it, he 
 tried to shut the door upon her, pushing her out ; but she 
 was as determined as he, and pressed her way in.
 
 3l6 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 " I am acclimated," she said : " I got back yesterday ; and 
 Mr. Parsons passed our house just now to say that there was 
 no woman to be had here. I will stay," she added, laying 
 aside her bonnet and shawl. " My dear madam, please " 
 and she held up a quieting hand. 
 
 " I am not a dear madam," the poor, weazen-faced little 
 artist said with dignity. " I will be one of the old masters ; 
 old mistresses, I mean ; but that is too absurd. You two 
 go together in a picture, whatever it is. But I had a grander 
 idea then about you. It was such a glorious idea ; and, 
 like all glorious things, so exceedingly simple," she added, 
 sobering down for a moment as into the artlessness of a 
 child. " You see, I took the measures with my eye at 
 prayer-meeting and church. You soothe me, my child, and 
 nothing could be simpler," with a girl-like laugh. " I will 
 begin at the vestibule down in the basement, where we have 
 prayer-meetings. As a beginning, I will paint chaos on the 
 wall, outside the inner door, you know. You have no idea," 
 another laugh "what a splendid chaos I could paint." 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Chaffingsby," Mr. Venable began. 
 
 " It is useless," said his companion : " better not repress 
 her " 
 
 " Repress ! " the sick woman interrupted with shrill sar- 
 casm. "You have no right to prevent me, captain. It is 
 not my soul, as you try to make yourself think : it is Charles 
 and Clara. It kills me. I must get away from them, or go 
 mad. You make believe you are such a block you don't 
 know. Oh, yes ! then Adam, as you go in the door of 
 the basement on one hand ; Eve, you know, on the other. 
 There is plenty of room upon the walls all around for the 
 Old Testament people, up to Malachi. I will paint him 
 on the ceiling of the basement, pointing upward to the New 
 Testament in the church above. A picture, he said, must 
 be a pyramid. I can get in a good deal of the New Testa- 
 ment in the church. The Revelation on the ceiling, of
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 317 
 
 course, and everybody in it pointing, with a sweet smile, 
 upward to heaven, you know. That will be the apex. 
 Oh, it will be perfectly glorious ! I tell you, captain, I will 
 go at it right away. The negroes are all dead, but you can 
 watch Clara and Charles until I am done. Let me alone ! " 
 
 The poor woman struggled to rise. It was more than 
 Mr. Venable could do to hold her down in bed : Zeo had to 
 come to his assistance. 
 
 "You shall not prevent me," she exclaimed, struggling 
 with an almost superhuman strength. " I have at last a con- 
 ception of Christ ! I never dared to put his face on canvas 
 before ! I can do it now ! He is here ! He sits to me 
 himself ! " But, as she strove to break from the restraining 
 hands, the re-action came. With the inky foam to her writh- 
 ing lips, she sank back upon her bed, sobbing like an ex- 
 hausted babe. Then with eyes as peaceful as those of an 
 infant, she clasps her feeble hands, and joins in with low 
 and half-uttered words as her pastor whispered the consola- 
 tions of the gospel, and uttered a brief prayer, Zeo kneeling 
 by him. When her husband returns, it is to prepare the dead 
 for burial, Zeo helping him. He does it with face so set 
 that he is not himself conscious of the tears which trickle 
 and fall. That brown and rudely-carved face has endured 
 many a sea, but his tears are drops of the saltest brine it has 
 ever known ; a something in the affection of this man for his 
 little wife, which gave to all who saw it a new conception of 
 love. 
 
 It takes few words to tell Mr. Venable, when they walk 
 away together, how Zeo Buttolph happens to have returned. 
 She and her father were acclimated. The fever, too, was 
 regarded as over. Her father had resolved to return. She 
 could not keep him away any longer. " I could not let him 
 be here alone," she added, and her companion understood 
 it all. 
 
 It was almost startling to himself, the way in which his
 
 3l8 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 spirits rose again as they walked along in the open air, laugh- 
 ing and talking as they went. He felt almost extravagantly 
 elated. " We are through our severe trial at last," he ex- 
 plained to her. 
 
 " I am glad to find you looking so well," she said. "We 
 have heard of your heroism, of your devotion. You cannot 
 tell, sir" she began, but completed the sentence by lifting 
 her eyes, and looking for a moment steadily in his. 
 
 " I was but one of many others," he said, the re-action 
 going on so rapidly that his heart bounded within him. " It 
 has seemed ages since we parted," he continued, " but we 
 are nearly through ; " and his face brightened, his eyes 
 sparkled. " There is but one thing now " 
 
 " But I haven't told you about our friends," she inter- 
 rupted, with rising color, as she proceeded to do so with 
 a degree of eagerness unusual to her. Commodore 
 Grandheur and Miss Aurelia Jones had spent the season 
 together up the country, and were really and truly to be 
 married. The same was true of her sister and Mr. Fan- 
 thorp. Both couples were waiting their return to the island, 
 to have Mr. Venable perform the ceremony. "You have 
 no idea," she added, " how Irene tyrannizes over Mr. Fan- 
 thorp, nor how submissive Miss Aurelia .is to the commo- 
 dore. It is amusing." 
 
 There was a good deal of conversation as they walked the 
 grass-grown streets, and passed the deserted houses ; but 
 there was an emptiness in all they said, that which inter- 
 ested them most being held in reserve. He told her of his 
 plans. He was firmly fixed in the purpose he had formed 
 before she left. The capital of the State was a noble field 
 of labor. As soon as the church people returned, he would 
 resign, go up to that important centre, and organize a church. 
 He would build it up from the foundation. He was full of 
 his scheme. 
 
 " It has been a terrible time," he said at last ; " but do
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 319 
 
 you know, in a certain sense and all along, I never was hap- 
 pier?" He laughed and talked on, and was so much in 
 earnest, he did not see a sudden change in her face. From 
 the first she had been looking at him with covert but linger- 
 ing eyes ; but now as they drew near her home she glanced 
 at him once and again, and then turned deadly pale. After 
 they parted at her father's gate, she stood for a time holding 
 firmly by it, her face drawn and almost desperate. When 
 she entered the house it was to go direct to her room, and 
 lock the door behind her. 
 
 Mr. Venable was smitten with the fever : his wild spirits 
 had left no doubt in her of that ; and he reached Mr. Par- 
 sons's house only to fall. His duty had raised him out of 
 all thought or care for himself, had kept him going as by 
 its increasing lift and pressure. In relaxing it had left him 
 prostrate. The storm had passed ; but he lay helpless as in 
 the trough of a sea which still rolls after the tempest is gone. 
 Capt. Chafifm and Mr. Quatty aided Mr. Parsons in nursing 
 him ; and they could have nothing but fear for the result. 
 
 Besides him, Gen. Buttolph had to be nursed. His 
 placid obstinacy had always been the curse of his charac- 
 ter. An unusually plump infant from his birth, the general 
 had, alas- 1 never ceased in many senses to be but an infant ; 
 and in returning too soon to the city, he had, as in every 
 thing else, yielded at last as to his own avoirdupois. 
 
 The talk with Mr. Venable upon the beach that night had 
 been the slow result on the inert man of the long-con- 
 tinued influence upon him of Zeo. Even then his promise 
 ended with the year. It was because she had been with him 
 at Sulphur St. Jerome, that he had remained, so to speak, 
 indolently firm. As the close of the year drew nigh, the 
 habits of a lifetime asserted themselves with increasing ap- 
 petite. He grew restless ; and, one morning, leaving his 
 daughters and Grit to follow in the care of Mr. Fanthorp, 
 he had suddenly left for St. Jerome, in order to be at least
 
 32O A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 upon the spot where he could indulge when his time of ab- 
 stinence was out. Zeo, however, had seized the opportunity 
 of acquaintances returning ; and leaving her sister weeping 
 and remonstrating, to follow at her leisure, she had hastened 
 homeward but a few hours after her father. He had not 
 broken his promise ; but his portly habit and his years of 
 indulgence had made him as resinous to the fever as pine 
 is to fire. Almost immediately upon her return with Mr. 
 Venable to the house from Mrs. Chaffingsby's bedside, she 
 was summoned to the dining-room to find him lying upon 
 the sofa. Although he had not drank a drop, he had, the 
 key being in her possession, broken open the sideboard, and 
 placed the decanter upon its marble top, where he could at 
 least see it, and was lying unconscious, struck down by the 
 pestilence. They did not remove him ; and the sofa was 
 but as a funeral pyre. In a few hours the greedy flames had 
 consumed him ; and no one contradicted Mr. Parsons, who 
 had hurried there for a moment from beside Mr. Venable, 
 when, as emphatic as ever, but in a low tone that Zeo might 
 not hear, he said, 
 
 " He has been a slave so long : it is best as it is, best at 
 least for her." 
 
 When the first blow of her father's illness smote Zeo, she 
 felt sure of one thing. During the weeks of darkness and 
 prostration which followed, she felt it only the more cer- 
 tainly ; it wrought itself into the rhythm of her beating heart, 
 it spanned like a rainbow her fast-falling tears, the com- 
 mendation of the Master in regard to a woman and never 
 yet of a man, " She hath done what she could."
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 32! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 IN WHICH IS ENDED WHAT IT IS HOPED THE READER MAY 
 CONSENT' TO SAY HAS BEEN A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 WE weary in these pages of the pestilence, as men 
 wearied of it then. 
 
 December was at last rolling away, and the scattered pop- 
 ulation of St. Jerome began to return. The freshness of the 
 crape upon the hats of the men, and the mourning apparel 
 of the women, as the city slowly filled up, told always and 
 everywhere of the dead ; the absence of it was itself the 
 mark in any one of the alien and the stranger. Old neigh- 
 bors stopped each other along the streets, and shook hands 
 sorrowfully together at front gates, comparing experiences. 
 Yet it seemed with no one as when death has stricken its 
 victim singly. There was the sublimity of a great catastro- 
 phe in the loss of each : affliction weighed less upon the 
 survivors, because its general load was borne upon the 
 shoulders of so many, individual grief being soothed in the 
 air of universal sympathy. There was no outcry of anguish, 
 no violent weeping, seeing that the whole atmosphere was a 
 mist of tears ; and that also would lift and pass away in due 
 time, personal grief hiding itself more every day in silent 
 homes, then drawing itself deeper still into hearts of bereave- 
 ment. As the days fled, the world came rolling back. 
 There were vessels at the wharves, vehicles along the streets, 
 new faces in shop and store, in the market and counting-
 
 322 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 room and warehouse. Everybody was coming back, and 
 going to work again with double energy to make up for lost 
 time. Very soon the schools and churches would fill up ; 
 the cotton-compresses and brokers' offices, the theatres and 
 billiard-saloons, the auction-rooms, drinking-establishments, 
 cigar-shops, gambling-hells, and places worse still, would be 
 in even fuller operation than before the pestilence. Boys 
 quarrelled and turned somersaults along the sidewalks ; ne- 
 groes shouted to each other, and argued with obstinate 
 mules, upon the wharves, as if refreshed after rest. The tide 
 of life was coming in more bountiful and brilliant, and salt 
 with all variety, than ever before ; and speedily the last 
 traces of its awful ebb, the long wrinkles it had left, the 
 ridges in the sand which were the graves of the dead, would 
 be covered up as by the ocean. In a little while, "the 
 fever " would be talked about as a something which befell 
 long ago. The houses and palings would be repainted, the 
 grounds restored, the exuberant overgrowth of vegetation 
 pruned down, and everybody come to wear as cheerful a 
 face as possible. Before long, no man would be so disloyal 
 as to hint or even believe that the fever had been so disas- 
 trous as had been represented ; and many would be ready 
 to swear that it never could or would come again, world with- 
 out end, for ever and evermore, amen. 
 
 No two men could be more unlike, in a bodily sense 
 especially, than Gen. Buttolph and Mr. Venable. For that 
 reason, the fever which flashed up again its dying fires in 
 consuming the one had spared the other. 
 
 Sunday, the last day of the year, had arrived. Mr. Vena, 
 ble was still pale and weak ; but every hour since the white 
 frost had silvered the graves of the crowded cemetery, he 
 had grown stronger. He was able to sit up at last in Mr, 
 Parsons's parlor, and had been telling his host of his inten- 
 tion of resigning his charge, and of organizing a church else- 
 where, as soon as he could get away.
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 323 
 
 " I want a new field," he said, " because I intend to be a 
 new man. To do the work of the grander days before us, 
 a man must be the strain is so much greater a stronger 
 man than ever. As soon as possible I will be off. I must 
 go, as you once told me, like a shot." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks ! " Mr. Parsons replied. "We will let you 
 do no such thing. I am alone in the world now, and you do 
 nothing without my permission ! Do you suppose we would 
 have had the fever, had people settled Hacamac instead of 
 this wretched end of the island? Never. I never mistake." 
 
 " The terraqueous machine ? " suggested the other with a 
 smile. 
 
 " It was a success, sir ! If you foolish people could have 
 had the sense to sit still," the inventor said almost angrily, 
 " it would not have upset. If you hadn't dropped the sail, 
 we would have gone out upon the water beautifully, sir, beau- 
 tifully ! But, as I told you before, I have hit upon the 
 thing at last, at last ; " and he rubbed his hands together with 
 quiet assurance. Well he might. The idea had come to 
 him, as has been recorded, in the act of pouring out milk for 
 Owny ; and, applying the principle of condensation, he had 
 since then perfected his invention. In a word, he had, in 
 good earnest, made his great discovery, which was to net him 
 his hundred thousand a year, as the reader would agree if 
 that invention might be named here. " No, sir," Mr. Par- 
 sons added : " I am very rich henceforth, am that much 
 more positive ; and you shall do nothing except as I say. 
 Yonder comes Miss Zeo again, and it is the most sensible 
 thing she could do. Don't talk too much : I must go." 
 
 It was by no means the first call she had made since Mr. 
 Venable began to get well. To judge by the manner of their 
 meeting now, what had passed between them before must 
 have been satisfactory to both. 
 
 " I can hardly believe it," he said at last, as she stood 
 beside him in her mourning, grave and strong. " The gov-
 
 324 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 
 
 ernor is so handsome and rich, so popular, has such a future 
 before him, is so so magnetic." 
 
 For of course he knew how, in addition to writing again 
 and again, as he had told her he should, the governor had 
 sent Col. Roland, who had just recovered up the country 
 from the fever, as an ambassador; how her sister's wrath 
 and tears had each in turn been poured upon her, while Mr. 
 Fanthorp's ridicule and mimicry of himself had exhausted 
 their utmost powers toward the same end. 
 
 " I like him," Zeo replied, " sincerely, and told him so 
 yesterday when he came. He is generous and warm-heart- 
 ed, but, apart from Col. Roland, nothing more. The strain 
 upon me before was too great. No : it is I who am too 
 weak. Unless I had loved him, I dared not risk it ! " 
 
 For a moment she was silent, for the governor's visit had 
 been one of the most painful experiences of her life ; and 
 her eyes filled with tears as she remembered how in his 
 eagerness all embarrassment had been forgotten as he plead 
 his own cause with the eloquence of intense feeling, in the 
 knowledge that it was the last effort he could make to win 
 her. Then she added thoughtfully, as she seated herself 
 beside her lover, and yielded her hand to his, " I can dare 
 every thing where I love ; and of you," she laughed with 
 brightening color, " I have hopes ; " but she would not have 
 indulged him with such a loving look in return for his, had 
 he not been still weak from his sickness. 
 
 " You are an angel ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "No : I am only a woman, not even a heroine," she said. 
 "Irene has all the romance; and I am afraid," she said 
 modestly and in a lower voice, " that all I know is to try 
 and trust." 
 
 "Thank God, Zeo!" he said, his face full of gladness, 
 " thank God most of all for such weakness : it is thus you 
 are most truly a woman. You are not Mrs. Chaffingsby's 
 Martha or Judith ; but you are all I can wish. I could not
 
 A YEAR WORTH LIVING. 325 
 
 have imagined an improvement in you the first day I saw 
 you; but," he added with enthusiasm, "you have no idea 
 how you are changed, you darling." 
 
 " Do you remember," Zeo said softly, " that magnificent 
 day after the storm, the first day of the year, I mean, on 
 board the Nautilus, the day we landed? " 
 
 " It was the brightest day of my life," her lover said ; "but 
 to-day, and after the tempest of the fever, is far brighter, 
 and the pain of the year has been better to us than the 
 pleasure. Mr. Parsons could state it all upon his black- 
 board, and give you the exact result of loss and gain. I 
 cannot ; but I know that to me it has been a wonderful 
 year a year brimming full and running over. This new 
 year, Zeo, will be better still, because I will have you." 
 Her eyes were drooped ; but she lifted them wholly at one 
 with him as he said, and drew her to his heart as he did so, 
 ' But the old year has been to both of us, has it not, Zeo, a 
 year worth living? " 
 
 Franklin Prets : Rand, Avery, & Co., Boston.
 
 THE 
 
 Latest Sensation in the Literary World 
 
 SEOLA. 
 
 A ROMANCE BY AN ANONYMOUS AUTHOR. 
 i6mo. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 The "Boston Transcript" says: 
 
 "Will attract a multitude of readers, and shows great power of 
 imagination." 
 
 The "Boston Traveller" devotes a column to a notice of it, 
 and says : 
 
 " ' SEOLA' must make a mark in the literary world. It stands out 
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 and unimpassioned reader, who is unable to find within its pages that 
 which will surprise, affect deeply, and gratify." 
 
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 1 SEOLA ' is drawn with exquisite beauty." 
 
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 IBOSTOICT.
 
 2,joo MILES IN A PAPER BOAT. 
 
 Voyage of the Paper Canoe; 
 
 A Geographical Journey of 2,300 Miles, from Quebec 
 to the Gulf of Mexico, 
 
 BY NATHANIEL H. BISHOP, 
 
 Author of "A Thousand Miles' Walk across South A merica." Embellished with 
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 8vo. CLOTH, $2.50. 
 
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 addition, ten maps, showing the minutest details of the journey, from 
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 engraved with exquisite delicacy." Boston Journal. 
 
 " The perils encountered by the author are related with a charming 
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 BY THE AUTHOR OF "IN TRUST." 
 
 FROM HAND TO MOUTH, 
 
 BY 
 
 MISS A. M. DOUGLAS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 IN TRUST, STEPHEN DANE, NELLY KINNARD'S KINGDOM, 
 
 CLAUDIA, SYDNIE ADRIANCE, HOME NOOK, 
 
 KATHIE STORIES, ETC. 
 
 13mo. Cloth.. $1.5O. 
 
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 intensely interesting, though there is nothing sensational or strained in 
 the plot, scenes, or characters. It is a story of homely, every-day life, 
 just such as any of us may have seen ; and herein lies without doubt 
 no little of the charm with which the gifted author has invested her 
 story. It is a book that will be popular, and will survive the passing 
 hour. Bridgeport Farmer. 
 
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 shows that she is appreciated, and speaks well for the taste of our 
 Story-reading public. Christian Leader. 
 
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 book, from the fact that we can so readily ' take it home ' to our- 
 selves. Portland Argus. 
 
 " Amanda Douglas is one of the favorite authors among American 
 novel-readers. She writes in a free, fresh, and natural way, and her 
 characters are never overdrawn." Manchester Mirror. 
 
 SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS AND NEWS-DEALERS. 
 
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 Two Glorious Books of Adventure. 
 
 THERE SHE BLOWS; 
 
 OR, THE LOG OF THE ARETHUSA. 
 
 By Capt. W. H. MACY of Nantucket. i6mo. Cloth. 
 Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
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 His tales of adventures on his whaling voyages, his experiences with 
 whales and South Sea Island savages, and numerous other things, are 
 well told. There is nothing tedious about it. Like most sea-captains 
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 and take a joke." N. O. Picayune. 
 
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 THAT WIF OF MINE. 
 
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 HAS twenty-five chapters that cannot fail to interest any reader. 
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 THAT HUSBAND OF MINE. 
 
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 lished, is equal jy attractive ; requiring 50,000 Co pies to fill orders received 
 before its publication. 
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 SOMETHING BETTER 
 
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 that purpose. 
 NOBODY'S HUSBAND. 
 
 Follows ; and will, we are sure, prove himself an agreeable companion. This 
 book has been advertised under the title of "Another Man's Wife," but 
 the author has changed the title, in order to have it correspond better with 
 the idea of the story. 
 A PAPER CITY. 
 
 By D. R. LOCKE (Rev. Petroleum V. Nasby). Is one of the best efforts of 
 this renowned humorist, satirist, and character delineator. (In press.) 
 
 OUR LUCKY SERIES. 
 
 Comprising bright and sparkling stories for Young People, by the best 
 authors, is dasigned to give the younger members of the family what 
 " Our Sparkling Series " gives the older ones, THE BEST AT THE 
 LOWEST PRICE. Paper, 50 cents ; Cloth, Illust, $1.00 per volume. 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 
 
 The initial volume is by a famous writer for the young, whose name is with- 
 held for " Luck." It is a capital story, full of adventure, and with an 
 excellent moral. 
 BOUND IN HONOR 
 
 Is by that popular writer, J. T. Trowbridge, and he has written nothing bet- 
 ter. It is full of life and humor, and excellent teachings. 
 HIS OWN MASTER 
 
 Is also by J. T. Trowbridge. The publishers have secured these two enter- 
 taining stories for " Our Lucky Series," and consider themselves " lucky" 
 in being able to present the very best of this author's writings. 
 THE SILVER-SEEKERS ; or, Hal and Ned in Sonora. 
 
 By SAMUEL WOODWORTH COZZENS. The author of " The Young Trail- 
 Hunters," and " Among the Quicksands," has the reputation of being a 
 capital story-teller ; and his long life among the red men of the West, and 
 his adventures in hunting and trapping, give him an inexhaustible fund 
 from which to draw tales of thrilling adventure and wonderful daring. 
 This story is his best. 
 
 B3P" A II the books in this series will be by the best authors, of interest to both 
 fid and young, and, though never "preachy" designed to inculcate both good 
 morals andjnanners. .Liberal discount to the trade for quantities. 
 
 LEE &> SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.