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THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 OTHER STORIES 
 
FRANK E, STOCKTON S WRITINGS, 
 
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THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK R. STOCKTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 1893 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE - 1 
 
 ASAPH 44 
 
 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 91 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES ... 141 
 
 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED Po HANCY 151 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 174 
 
 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 202 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 IT was late on a quiet August afternoon that the 
 little yacht " Flippant " sailed into the harbor of 
 a small Xew England town. The yacht, which was a 
 very small one, belonged to my friend, George Grim- 
 rose, who had invited me to take a week s cruise with 
 him along the coast. There was no one on board but 
 our two selves, and, in fact, there was neither room 
 nor need for anybody else. Crimrose generally sat 
 at the helm, while I acted the part of a crew and 
 steward. Crimrose cooked our meals. 
 
 "If General Washington were aboard," he had 
 remarked, "I might let him attend to the sails and 
 anchor, but I should want to do the cooking myself." 
 
 We had been out four days and were now bound 
 homeward, and after passing the night in the quiet 
 harbor we proposed to start on our southerly course to 
 Boston. Crimrose had intended going on shore to put 
 a letter in the post-office ; but as it was past supper- 
 time before we entered the harbor, he concluded to 
 postpone this until morning. We had no small boat 
 but the yacht, which was sloop-rigged, and was so 
 small that we could easily run her up to a pier, or even 
 ground her on a beach. Our sails had been lowered, 
 
 1 
 
2 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 anchor dropped, supper cooked and eaten, and pipes 
 smoked; we hung out our lantern and retired to rest. 
 The " Flippant " was really nothing more than a sail 
 boat, though Crimrose always insisted in calling her 
 a yacht. But there was a little deck cabin divided 
 into two parts, each of which was large enough to 
 satisfy the needs of a tired man. There was a slight 
 breeze from the southeast, and the gentle rising and 
 falling of the boat soon lulled us to sleep. 
 
 When I awoke the next morning I knew it must be 
 a fine day, because I could see through the opening of 
 the curtains which hung at the entrance of my little 
 cabin the early sunlight upon the water, and I con 
 cluded that there could not be any wind at all at 
 present, for the little vessel was perfectly motionless, 
 and I could not feel the slightest swell nor movement 
 of the water. This was unfortunate, because if we 
 were to reach Boston at the time we expected, we 
 should need a good wind that day. 
 
 I got up and dressed myself, and went on deck. It 
 was indeed a beautiful day and a quiet one, and look 
 ing out over the stern I was surprised to see, instead 
 of the town or the sand-hills in the sides of its little 
 harbor, a wide expanse of water on which there was a 
 slight but well-defined swell. Turning to look behind 
 me, I stood utterly astounded the yacht was ashore, 
 one-half her length lying on a sandy beach. No 
 wonder I did not feel the movement of the sea. 
 
 For nearly a minute I stood gazing about me in 
 amazement. Before me was a wide beach; back of 
 that a higher bit of land sprinkled with rocks and 
 coarse shore-grass, and still farther back, a wood, 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 3 
 
 principally of pines, which shut out the view beyond. 
 This wood extended for a considerable distance to the 
 right and left and then there was the sea again. 
 
 Crirnrose was a heavy sleeper, and I could still hear 
 his deep breathing. Before awakening him I deter 
 mined to make some further investigation, and quietly 
 walking forward, I stepped ashore. As I did this I 
 fancied the vessel made a little movement forward, 
 but this I attributed to my excited state of mind. I 
 walked around the bow of the vessel, and the longer 
 I looked at her, the more I was puzzled and astonished 
 at her situation. She was not only grounded, but her 
 forepart was deep in the soft sand. How this could 
 have happened I could not conceive. Had she broken 
 from her anchorage and drifted upon this point of 
 land, or island, or whatever it was, she would have 
 grounded broadside to the beach, and perhaps stem 
 foremost; but how she could have gone ashore head 
 on, and with such force as to drive her so deeply into 
 the sand that she stood on her even keel, and all this 
 without shock enough to wake either of us, passed my 
 comprehension. I wanted to think it out before I 
 woke Crimrose, who was such a quick and impulsive 
 man, and so full of reasons for everything that could 
 possibly happen, that he disturbed my methods of 
 quiet ratiocination. I would wait a little, and en 
 deavor to work out the problem myself. As I stood 
 gazing-at the vessel, my eyes fell upon the boom near 
 where it was attached to the lower part of the mast, 
 and there, closely pressing the boom and the furled 
 sail, T saw a crooked piece of iron which I had never 
 noticed before. This was attached to a stout rope 
 
4 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 which ran upward along the mast, making one or two 
 turns around it. My eyes followed this rope upward 
 to the masthead, and then above the masthead, and on 
 up, higher and higher, and then throwing my head 
 backward, my eyes followed the rope still higher and 
 higher until it ended at a balloon in the air above me. 
 
 There was but little wind ; the balloon was almost 
 stationary, and was apparently not much more than a 
 hundred feet above the ground. From the wicker car 
 which hung beneath it there came no sign of occupancy. 
 I ran along the beach a little way that I might better 
 look up without stretching my neck, and then I sat 
 down on the beach and quietly laughed to myself. 
 Here was an unheard-of and ridiculous situation, and 
 I was delighted that I had fully investigated and 
 worked out the whole problem before waking Grim- 
 rose. 
 
 The condition was now easy enough to understand; 
 the dangling grappling-iron of an escaped balloon had 
 caught in the boom of the " Flippant " ; with a gqntle 
 breeze, which was probably blowing early in the night, 
 the strain at first was very slight, but this strain was 
 continuous and strong, and our cable had parted or 
 our anchor had dragged, and we had been towed bow 
 foremost by the balloon until we had touched this 
 beach, and then slowly and steadily had been drawn 
 forward until the bow of the vessel was so deep in the 
 sand that the balloon could move it no further, and 
 here we were. Now I would awaken Crimrose. 
 
 This experienced navigator was not half dressed 
 before he perceived that his yacht was unnaturally 
 motionless, and it was not two seconds after he had 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 5 
 
 put his head out from between his little curtains that 
 he was on deck gazing wildly about him. In another 
 second, bareheaded and barefooted, he had sprung 
 upon the sand, and stood by my side. At that instant 
 the "Flippant," before our eyes, moved forward a 
 foot, it seemed to me. This was easy enough to 
 understand; Crimrose was tall, and round, and plump, 
 and stepping ashore he relieved the craft of more than 
 two hundred pounds of weight. 
 
 I pointed into the air, and glancing upward, Crim 
 rose saw the balloon. When he appreciated the fact 
 that this great object hovering above us was made fast 
 by a long rope to the yacht, Crimrose s lower jaw fell 
 so that it looked as if it were going to drop off, and 
 with eyes like billiard balls he began to feel wildly 
 in his pockets ; then he turned to me and gasped : 
 
 " Give me your knife ! Cut that rope." 
 
 But my mind had been hard at work on the subject 
 of this balloon. 
 
 "Don t you do that," I said; "there may be some 
 body in that car, dead or alive, and if there has been 
 an accident, there may be papers or something. We 
 should not let it blow out to sea and be lost for 
 ever." 
 
 "What is all that to me?" exclaimed Crimrose, red 
 in the face ; " it will have the mast out of my yacht in 
 a minute ; it will work her seams loose ; it will ruin 
 her. Where is your knife? I have lost mine. 
 
 "Crimrose," said I, "if you cut that rope and let 
 that balloon get away, we may do a great injury. Bal 
 loons don t float about that way unless something has 
 happened. It won t hurt the Flippant to hold it a 
 
6 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 little longer, until we make up our minds what is best 
 to do." 
 
 "It is best to cut her loose! " exclaimed Crimrose; 
 "that is what we should do." 
 
 I put my hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Stop, " said I ; " we can do better than that. First, 
 let us find out whether there is anybody in that 
 car." 
 
 Without answering, Crimrose stepped back, put a 
 hand on each side of his mouth, and shouted in a high, 
 shrill voice : 
 
 "Hello, up there!" 
 
 Almost immediately a large felt hat appeared above 
 the edge of the basket, and after it a face. It was 
 that of a man with grizzled whiskers and beard. 
 
 "Who are you, and what are you about?" shouted 
 Crimrose. 
 
 The man put his head a little way over the edge of 
 the basket ; he seemed very much afraid of falling out. 
 
 " Glad to see you," he shouted; " is that rope hitched 
 tight and strong ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered; "you are secure for the present." 
 
 "But you can t hook on to my boat any longer," 
 cried Crimrose. "Do you want to come down? If 
 you do, pull your valve-rope and let out your gas." 
 
 "I do want to come down," cried the man. "No 
 body ever wanted to come down as much as I do, but 
 the valve-rope is broken. I did let out a great deal of 
 the gas, but I can t let out any more now. But don t 
 you think you can get this balloon to the ground? 
 Can t you pull us down? " 
 
 " I can bring you down/ cried Crimrose; " I will get 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 1 
 
 my rifle and put some holes in the top of the balloon, 
 and that will let out the gas quick enough ! " 
 
 I expostulated. " Don t do that," I said; "you 
 might rip a great rent in the silk, so that the balloon 
 would fall suddenly, and the man be killed." 
 
 I also thought it likely that in his excitement Grim- 
 rose might hit the man in the car instead of the top of 
 the balloon, but I did not think it wise to say this. 
 It was plain to see that a large portion of the gas had 
 escaped, for the lower part of the balloon hung loose 
 and flabby, and the gas that remained was not much 
 more than enough to sustain the occupant of the car 
 at his present moderate distance above the earth. I 
 thought it not at all impossible that we might be able 
 to pull down the balloon. 
 
 At a short distance from us, at the edge of the higher 
 ground above the beach, stood a small gnarled tree, 
 cedar or something of the kind, with one of its crooked 
 roots making a little loop above the ground. This, I 
 believed, would be strong enough to hold the balloon, 
 and in a minute I formed a plan. 
 
 Crimrose had gone on board to put on his shoes, and 
 while he was doing this I got out a long rope which 
 had been stowed away on the yacht, and making it fast 
 to the grapnel of the balloon, I carried the other end 
 of it to the gnarled tree, passed it under the root, and 
 fastened it to the trunk. By this time Crimrose had 
 reappeared, and I proposed my plan to him. 
 
 " All right, " said he ; " anything so we get her loose 
 from the yacht." And standing on our forward deck, 
 he reached up as far as possible, and took hold of the 
 balloon rope, and hung upon it with his whole weight. 
 
8 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 Down came the balloon until Crimrose was on his 
 knees. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " I cried, and loosening the grapnel from 
 the boom, I ran to the tree, and pulled the rope nearly 
 taut. 
 
 "Let go! " I cried, and Crimrose released his hold; 
 the balloon rose into the air, moved over the little tree, 
 and then stopped. With the rope under the root, and 
 a half -turn around the trunk, I found I could easily 
 hold it. Even when the balloon shot upward, there 
 was no cry from the car. Its occupant evidently saw 
 what we were about. 
 
 Crimrose was so delighted to see his yacht relieved 
 from the strain of the balloon, that he seemed satisfied 
 with what had been done, and prepared to examine 
 his vessel to discover what damage, if any, it had 
 sustained; but I shouted to him to come to me. 
 
 " You pull her down a few feet at a time, and I will 
 keep the rope tight as it shortens ; then we shall soon 
 have that man on solid ground." 
 
 Crimrose looked up, shook his head a little, but set 
 to work with such vigor that it was not long before 
 the bottom of the car was but a little above the top of 
 the tree. I now saw that the tree branches would 
 interfere with the safe descent of the aeronaut, and 
 making the rope fast to the root, I suggested to Crim 
 rose that he sit down and take a little rest. I then 
 got an axe from the yacht, and cut off the tree not far 
 from the ground; its roots were all that we needed. 
 
 Crimrose and I dragged away the little tree, and 
 then we set to work again. When the car was within 
 a few feet of the ground, I cautioned the old man, who 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 9 
 
 gazed at us with an expression which indicated more 
 interest in our proceedings than any other emotion, not 
 to try to get out until I told him to, for the balloon 
 might give a jump and jerk the rope away from us. 
 
 " Oh, don t you be afraid, " said the man ; " I am not 
 going to get out until everything is tight and fast." 
 
 When the car was as low as we could get it, and 
 everything was tight and fast, the aeronaut, with much 
 nimblenees, scrambled over the edge of the basket and 
 approached us, offering each a hand. 
 
 " Thanks, both of you, ever so much, " he said ; " if 
 there is ever anything I can do for you, I hope you 
 will let me know." 
 
 " How did this happen? " asked Crimrose. " What 
 made you hook on to my yacht? " 
 
 " Excuse me one minute, gentlemen, " said the man, 
 and going to the basket he put his head over the edge, 
 and looked down into it. 
 
 "Come, Sarah," he said; "you can get out now." 
 
 At this we were treated to a new surprise ; for an 
 elderly woman, wearing a black bonnet, and wrapped 
 in a gray shawl, put her head and shoulders above the 
 side of the car. 
 
 " I don t see any steps," she said. " How do people 
 get out of these things?" 
 
 " The best way they can, my dear, " replied the man ; 
 "at least, in a case like this." 
 
 " All right, " said the old lady, and in a minute she 
 was standing alongside the man. 
 
 "This is my wife, gentlemen," said he, "Mrs. Po- 
 cock, and she is just as much obliged to you as I am 
 for helping us to land." 
 
10 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 They were a queer-looking couple; the man was 
 short and wiry in build, with twinkling blue eyes, and 
 a line of gray beard under his chin; his wife, shorter 
 than he, with her black bonnet, her spectacles, and 
 gray shawl, looked as little like an aeronaut as could 
 possibly be imagined. 
 
 "Indeed I am obliged," said she; "for the last six 
 teen hours I have been about as much scared as any 
 body can be, except when I was asleep. And looking 
 over the edge of that car made me so dizzy that I have 
 been curled up in the bottom until I can scarcely get 
 my joints out straight again." 
 
 " Hut how did this all happen? " I asked. " It seems 
 a very odd thing for you two to go up in a balloon." 
 
 "Odd! I should say so," replied the man. "I ll 
 tell you in twenty words just how it happened. But 
 by the way, my dear," he interpolated, taking out his 
 watch, " it is not sixteen hours that we have been in 
 the car, for we were thirty minutes late in starting. 
 You see," said he, "I am a watchmaker, Sylvester 
 Pocock, of Barnville, Massachusetts, and for a long 
 time 1 have wanted to test the movements of a watch 
 at different altitudes. Great things might come out 
 of experiments of this kind. At last I got a chance; 
 I made the acquaintance of an aeronaut, and he agreed 
 to take me up with him." 
 
 "And me," added Mrs. Pocock; "for I would not 
 let my husband go alone." 
 
 "He wanted three persons," continued the watch 
 maker, " and as Mrs. Pocock might never have such a 
 chance again, I agreed to take her." 
 
 "Put it as you please," his wife remarked, "any 
 way I went." 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 11 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," continued the watchmaker, 
 " you may scarcely believe it, but I tell you that after 
 me and Mrs. Pocock had snugly packed ourselves in 
 that car, me with three of my best watches in my 
 pockets, and she with everything to make her com 
 fortable for an hour s sail, which was all we bargained 
 for, that aeronaut a large man by the way, and a lit 
 tle given, I am afraid, to ardent spirits actually fell 
 out of his balloon just as the rope had been cut. He 
 was waving his hat and leaning far over the edge of 
 the car, and I think made a grab at something some 
 body held out to him, when out he toppled, turned a 
 somersault, and came down on his feet, and at that 
 instant up we went with a shoot that nearly took our 
 breath away. I don t believe he was hurt much, for I 
 could see him running and waving his arms, and then 
 in a short time everything seemed to be fading away, 
 and we went on, up and up, scarcely knowing what 
 had happened." 
 
 "Scarcely!" said Mrs. Pocock; "as far as I was 
 concerned, it wasn t as much as that. I knew nothing 
 at all except that that man had tumbled over the edge 
 of the car, and it made me so dizzy even to think of 
 looking over that I curled myself up in the bottom, as 
 I told you, knowing no more about anything than if 
 I hadn t been there." 
 
 " I did what I could, " said the watchmaker ; " but 
 that wasn t much. I knew if I let out the gas, the 
 balloon would come down, so I got hold of the valve- 
 rope and let out a lot of the gas, and we came down 
 pretty fast. Then I began to think we were coming 
 clown too fast, and I let the valve shut again. At 
 
12 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 that time we were not much further from the ground 
 than when we were fastened to your boat, and the wind 
 was taking us along slowly. I could see people below, 
 and a good many of them shouted to us. I tried to 
 open the valve again, thinking we d let ourselves 
 down kind of gradual, when the rope broke, and that 
 was the end of it. The wind took us along, we not 
 knowing what to do, and at last I thought of letting 
 out the grappling-iron, and then I did it as quick as 
 I could, but it wasn t no use. We passed over fences 
 and trees and lots of things it might have caught onto ; 
 but our rope didn t reach low enough, and we went 
 on and on until it got dark and couldn t see things 
 below us, and as there wasn t anything else to be 
 done, I thought I might as well try to make myself 
 comfortable and take a nap, for when daylight came I 
 might need all the strength I d got. The fact is, I 
 didn t wake up until I heard you calling to me. Some 
 time in the night I felt a little sort of a jerk which 
 must have been when we hooked onto your boat, but I 
 didn t know what it was, and I didn t get up to look 
 out; for, to tell the truth, it was a dreadful thing, 
 peering out over the top of that basket into the black 
 ness of the night. I think it likely when the night 
 drew on, the balloon sunk more and more until the 
 grappling-iron got low enough to catch onto your boat, 
 which was a blessed thing for us, gentlemen, for 
 where we d drifted to if we hadn t hooked fast to you, 
 there s no telling." 
 
 "But all s well that ends well," said Crimrose; 
 " and now let us have some breakfast. I suppose you 
 must be hungry; at any rate, I am." 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 13 
 
 "Now that my feet s on the ground, I am hungry/ 
 said Mrs. Pocock; "for it was in the afternoon when 
 we went up, and we expected to come down again in 
 plenty of time for supper." 
 
 While Crimrose, assisted by Mrs. Pocock and the 
 watchmaker, prepared the morning meal, I started off 
 to find out, if possible, where we were. I walked 
 along the beach to the eastward and soon finding my 
 self at the end of the little woods, I went inland and 
 scrambled to the top of a rocky hill, and from this I 
 could plainly see that we were on one of the small 
 uninhabited islands which, dot the coast of New 
 England. 
 
 At varying distances, but none of them nearer than 
 half a mile, were other islands I counted five of 
 them altogether. When I made this discovery, I went 
 back to the beach and found breakfast ready. The 
 meal was a very good one. Mrs. Pocock, who evi 
 dently was a woman Avho was in the habit of having 
 her own way, had done a good many things in the 
 way of cooking which Crimrose generally insisted on 
 doing himself. We all began in pleasant humor to 
 discuss the situation. 
 
 "I don t know what island this is," said Crimrose, 
 " but, from my knowledge of the coast, I am quite sure 
 that if we take a southwesterly course we shall soon 
 be in sight of land, and then I shall have my bear 
 ings. I shall be glad to take you two to Boston with 
 us, and then you can easily go to your home by train." 
 
 " But how about the balloon? How are we going to 
 get that back to Barnville?" asked the watchmaker. 
 
 Crimrose laughed. " The best thing we can do with 
 
14 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 the balloon is to get your traps out of her and cut 
 her loose and let her sail to the north pole, and it 
 might be a good idea to put our names on a card in it, 
 and then perhaps in that way at least we might get 
 ahead of any Arctic explorers. I should like the men 
 who finally discover the north pole to find my name 
 there." 
 
 "That is a pleasant fancy," said Mr. Pocock, "but 
 it will not do. Robert Moxham, who owns the bal 
 loon, can t afford to lose her; and after his kindness 
 in agreeing to take me up to make my experiments, it 
 would be a pretty mean thing for me to go away and 
 leave his property if there was any way of getting it 
 back to him. I reckon that if we was to cut some 
 slits in the bag that could easily be sewed up again, 
 that would let out the gas, we could pack up the bal 
 loon and take it along. Of course we should have 
 to leave the car behind, for that would be most too big 
 for your boat." 
 
 "Well," said Crimrose, "if you can do all that 
 before I am ready to sail, I don t mind, but I can t 
 wait for you. I ve got to be in Boston to-morrow 
 night, which is Saturday, for I have very important 
 business on hand next week. The fact is, I am to be 
 married, and this is my last bachelor cruise." 
 
 "Married!" exclaimed Mrs. Pocock, taking off her 
 spectacles and looking at him ; " that is very interest 
 ing." 
 
 " Yes, and to the best girl in the world. And now 
 let us go and get the Flippant afloat. There will be 
 a good wind in half an hour, or I am no sailor." 
 
 We had spread the breakfast cloth upon the clean 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 15 
 
 sand, and Mrs. Pocock now began to gather up the 
 dishes, while Crimrose walked to the yacht. The tide 
 had already risen, and the little boat was now almost 
 surrounded by water. The watchmaker went toward 
 the balloon, with a troubled expression; he would 
 require a good deal of help before he could pull it 
 down low enough to cut a split in the upper part, and 
 then it would take a good while to pack it. 
 
 I stood looking out over the sea. For the time I 
 forgot the strange chance by which we had been towed 
 by a balloon to this island; the unexpected arrival 
 from the upper air of an addition to our party, and 
 the work to be done in order that we might get afloat 
 and start on our homeward cruise ; all was forgotten 
 in the thought that next week Crimrose was to be 
 married to the girl I loved. 
 
 The story of my affections can be told in a few 
 words : I had loved Jeannette Collins for a long time, 
 and I had a fancy she knew it, but was not sure, for I 
 had never told her. Often and often had I intended 
 to tell her, but there had always been some reason why 
 I had deferred speaking. In those days I was not a 
 man who always acted with the promptness that his 
 interests demanded. 
 
 But when Crimrose arrived upon the scene during 
 the previous winter, he proved to be a man of unusual 
 promptness. Without any hesitation at all he fell in 
 love with Jeannette, and very shortly afterward offered 
 himself to her. I have reason to know that the matter 
 was not settled immediately. But after a time it was 
 settled, and they were to be married next week. It 
 had not been generally expected that the marriage 
 
16 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 would take place so soon; but Crimrose had deter 
 mined upon a wedding trip to Europe, and his plans 
 demanded that this should be begun before the sum 
 mer was over. As I said before, he was very prompt 
 and energetic in everything that he did. 
 
 But it was of no use to think of those things then. 
 I had shut my lips tightly, and ground my teeth 
 pretty often during the last six months, and I did it 
 again. Then I went to the yacht to help Crimrose 
 get it afloat. We found this not so easy a task as we 
 supposed it would be. Though Mr. Pocock added 
 his strength to ours, we were not able to push the 
 "Flippant" back into the water in which her stern 
 was already afloat. During our efforts the tide rose 
 considerably higher, and then we were surprised to 
 see that the bow of the yacht did not rise with it. 
 
 " By George ! " cried Crimrose, " I believe the water 
 is running into her instead of lifting her." And on 
 examination this was found to be true ; the " Flippant " 
 was leaking forward. We now all set to work to keel 
 over the yacht, and before long we discovered the 
 damage and the cause of it. A jagged bit of rock, 
 nearly buried in the sand, had been pressed against 
 her bottom by the steady strain of the balloon, until 
 it made a hole a foot and a half long. 
 
 This was to us all a doleful sight. Even Mrs. 
 Pocock could appreciate the extent of the disaster. 
 The " Flippant " was an old boat, although Crimrose 
 had always asserted that she was just as good as if 
 she had been built the day before, and I fancy her 
 planks were rotten, for the piece of rock had broken 
 through her bottom as if it had been made of earthen- 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 17 
 
 ware. Even while we were examining the lamentable 
 fracture, the water was gradually rising and conceal 
 ing it from our view, and we could not keel over the 
 " Flippant " any farther. 
 
 Crimrose, who had been standing half -leg deep in 
 water, now splashed ashore and began to clench his 
 fists and swear. 
 
 "Do you know," he shouted to me, "that we can t 
 leave this island? It is impossible for us to repair 
 that yacht, and in twenty minutes she will be full of 
 water." And turning toward the balloon, he addressed 
 it in terms which, had the great swaying body had 
 ears, would have dreadfully shocked it. As it was, 
 it shocked Mr. and Mrs. Pocock. 
 
 " I am very sorry," said the watchmaker, "that that 
 balloon should have caused your disaster; but for all 
 that I am glad our grapnel caught in your yacht. If 
 it had not, my wife and I might have floated out to 
 sea and been forever lost. As it is, we are all four on 
 dry land." 
 
 "Dry land!" exclaimed Crimrose; "I don t want 
 to be on dry land. I am on my way to Boston, and 
 how in the name of all that s wicked am I to get 
 there?" 
 
 "Perhaps some passing vessel may take us off," 
 suggested Mrs. Pocock, quietly. 
 
 "Passing vessel!" returned Crimrose; "when ves 
 sels pass, they don t pass anywhere near such a vil- 
 lanous bunch of rocks as this. Confound that 
 balloon! Somebody give me a knife." 
 
 The watchmaker rose to the occasion. " There s no 
 use in getting angry, sir," said he, "and it won t help 
 
18 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 matters to cut loose the balloon. If there is anything 
 to eat and drink on board your boat, and if there is 
 any property there that you wish to keep from getting 
 wet, I think we ought to wade in and bring it ashore." 
 
 "The most sensible thing that has been said yet," 
 said Mrs. Pocock to me, and I agreed with her. 
 
 In half an hour everything that could be moved 
 from the yacht had been brought ashore and been car 
 ried up to the sheltered spot near the wood, and Grim- 
 rose was sitting on a rock with his fingers in his 
 hair. 
 
 " I tell you, " he cried, " there was never anything 
 so diabolically unlucky since the beginning of the 
 world. It may be hours and even a day before a fish 
 ing-boat or any other craft comes near this wretched 
 island. And what am I to do? I did not even mail 
 my letter to Jeannette last night. She hasn t heard 
 from me since we started, and if I am not home to 
 morrow, she will be certain to think I am drowned. 
 It will kill her. Yes, sir! It will kill her." 
 
 Mrs. Pocock, who was not far away, was much 
 affected by this view of the case. Drawing me aside, 
 she said : 
 
 "It seems to me, sir, that this is a pretty bad state 
 of things. As far as living goes, there is nothing 
 much to complain of, and the weather s mild, and we 
 have victuals enough to last us for a week if we are 
 careful. But when we think there is a poor lady on 
 shore expecting to be married early next week and 
 having every reason to believe that her intended is at 
 the bottom of the sea, it is enough to make anybody s 
 heart ache. Do you know the young lady, sir ? I 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 19 
 
 think you must, for you are looking aAvfully doleful 
 yourself. Is she of a tender disposition?" 
 
 I was indeed feeling very doleful, and I was glad to 
 have the opportunity of speaking to one so sympa 
 thetic as this good woman. I described Jeannette to 
 her in a way that made her look very steadfastly at me. 
 
 " It is a great pity that a woman like that should be 
 weeping for a lost lover, and he safe on this dry land. 
 Have you known the lady long, sir?" she asked. "I 
 suppose your friend was proud to make you acquainted 
 with such a lady." 
 
 " Make me acquainted ! " I exclaimed ; " I have 
 known her for years, and he never saw her until last 
 Christmas." 
 
 "I am a person who speaks her mind," said she, 
 after another steadfast gaze at me, a and if the young 
 woman is all you say she is, it strikes me that it is a 
 pity that somebody else did not marry her before that 
 other gentleman met her." 
 
 "What do you mean by that? " I said quickly. 
 
 "The principal thing I mean," said she, "is that I 
 don t think much of him. But I dare say you con 
 sider I have no right to meddle in affairs that don t 
 concern me, and so I ll stop it." 
 
 I looked in astonishment at the watchmaker s wife; 
 she was certainly a person who meddled with matters 
 that were none of her business. 
 
 The greater part of the day was passed in vain 
 efforts to discover some approaching vessel. We 
 hoisted our flag upside down on the mast of the yacht; 
 we hung a sheet from the tallest tree on the edge of 
 the wood; but the day began to close, and we saw no 
 
20 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 sign of life upon the water except the smoke of some 
 distant steamers. The sun was already low when 
 Crimrose came hurrying to me with Mr. Pocock. 
 
 "This man," said he, "has proposed something 
 which may be of service. He has noticed, and I should 
 have noticed it myself if my mind had not been so 
 disturbed, that the wind has veered to the southeast, 
 and says that that balloon of his will easily carry one 
 person, and that if one of us were to get in her and 
 put the valve in working order, it would not take long 
 for this breeze to blow the balloon to the mainland. 
 It would be easy enough then to come down and send 
 somebody over here to take us off. If word could be 
 sent immediately to Jeannette, and I could get home 
 by Sunday, things would not be so very bad, after all." 
 
 "That s a good idea," said the watchmaker s wife, 
 "and I wonder none of us thought of it before." 
 
 "It was of no use thinking of it," said her husband, 
 "until the wind changed." 
 
 " Then I suppose the thing ought to be done as soon 
 as may be before the wind changes again," said she. 
 " I should say, Mr. Crimrose, that when you go over, 
 you ll have to leave the balloon wherever you land, to 
 stay there until it is called for, and then you will send 
 some sort of a vessel here to take us off." 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed Crimrose ; " I can t go in the bal 
 loon. I am ever so much too heavy. She wouldn t 
 begin to carry me." 
 
 " I don t believe you weigh any more than me and 
 Mr. Pocock," said she. 
 
 " I think I do," said Crimrose; "besides, there isn t 
 as much gas in the balloon as when you came down. 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 21 
 
 Of course it is always escaping. But there is plenty 
 to carry a light person, say Mr. Pocock, and he under 
 stands more about balloons than I do, anyway." 
 
 "Mr. Pocock!" exclaimed the watchmaker s wife; 
 " I would like you to know, sir, that Mr. Pocock weighs 
 just as much as he and me weighs ; for if he goes, I go, 
 for he don t go without me. And when I say that 
 there is nothing on earth that would tempt me to get 
 into a balloon again, for sooner than do that I d spend 
 the rest of my life here, at least as long as roots and 
 leaves and fish, if we could get any, would keep me 
 alive, you will understand that Mr. Pocock is not 
 going in that balloon. It is so important that you 
 should get over to the mainland just as soon as you can, 
 and as it doesn t matter to the rest of us if we wait 
 here awhile until we can be taken off comfortably, I 
 should say that you are the man who ought to go, 
 and I believe the balloon would carry you just as well 
 as not. Mr. Pocock and I is short, but we re solid." 
 
 Crimrose put his hands in his pockets and walked 
 toward the beach. 
 
 "That wouldn t do at all," he said; "a light person 
 would be perfectly safe, but it wouldn t carry me." 
 
 I put my hands in my pockets and walked toward 
 the beach. There was no disguising the fact that I 
 was a light person, at least, a great deal lighter than 
 Crimrose. The next day was Saturday. Fishing- 
 vessels seldom started out on Saturday, and it was not 
 likely that any small craft would be sailing as far as 
 this against a rising east wind. Even now Jeannette 
 must be feeling a great deal of anxiety; for Crimrose 
 had told her that he might possibly be back by Friday, 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 although. I had not thought there was any reason for 
 supposing he would be able to do this. Moreover, he 
 had not sent her the letter, which I certainly should 
 have found an opportunity to mail had I been in his 
 place. Even if she had been sure he was safe, the 
 case was a very bad one ; for if Crimrose did not get 
 back before Monday or Tuesday, the wedding would 
 have to be postponed, and I could imagine how Jean- 
 nette would feel if her wedding did not take place on 
 the day for which all the preparations had been made. 
 Crimrose should never have started on a cruise like 
 this at such a time. 1 had told him so; but he was a 
 man who would have his own way, and I am not at all 
 sure that the desire to get him back in good time had 
 not assisted me to make up my mind to go with him. 
 I stood and looked out over the water, and then I 
 turned to Crimrose, who was also meditating. 
 
 "I think I will go over in that balloon," I said. 
 
 He sprang toward me, his face blazing with delight. 
 "Harry," he cried, seizing one of my hands in both of 
 his, " you are a trump ! You are a friend indeed, and 
 it is just what I should have expected from you. The 
 thing is easy enough to do, of course, and I should be 
 the first man to offer to go if the balloon were filled 
 with gas; but it won t carry me as it is, and it will 
 carry you ; and although I should not have asked you 
 to do it, I accept your offer with all the gratitude that 
 one friend can show another." 
 
 " Come on, " said I ; " let us get the balloon in shape 
 to start; that valve should be put in order." 
 
 Crimrose was full of enthusiasm. " I am very sure 
 there is nothing the matter with the valve, except 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 23 
 
 that the cord is broken. If we tie another piece of 
 string to it, you will be all right, and have as much 
 command of the balloon as if you were driving a pony 
 to a cart. I will get some cord and make that right 
 in no time." 
 
 Mr. Pocock came to me. 
 
 "I didn t think you d be the one to go," said he, 
 " but that is not my affair. But I believe the balloon 
 will carry you ; and if you take all the rope you can get 
 off of that boat and make the grappling-line longer, I 
 haven t a doubt you can catch hold of something as 
 soon as you get over land." 
 
 The watchmaker s wife came and stood close by me. 
 
 "Well, well," said she, "you must have a powerful 
 friendship for that gentleman to undertake such a trip 
 for him. You couldn t do more if he was your own 
 brother, but perhaps you were boys together? " 
 
 "Oh no," said I, "I haven t known him long, and I 
 can t say it is for his sake I am going." I did not 
 intend to make this remark, but it came out very 
 naturally. 
 
 "Oh!" said she, "it isn t, isn t it? Well, it is a 
 bad thing for a young lady expecting to be married 
 not to know what s become of her intended, and per 
 haps not to see him turn up until the wedding day s 
 over. But for all that, I say it would take a pretty 
 strong friendship to make a man risk his life in a half- 
 filled balloon even for the sake of her peace of mind. 
 If I was you, I wouldn t go an inch. I d stay here 
 until somebody came along and took us off. And after 
 all, it isn t a matter of life and death that the lady s 
 mind should be relieved. Don t go." 
 
24 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 "Madam," said I, "you don t understand my feel 
 ings on the subject, and it is quite natural that you 
 shouldn t; but I assure you that that lady s peace of 
 mind is of the greatest importance to me, and I shall 
 try to get over to the mainland and let her know there 
 is no reason for her apprehensions, which have prob 
 ably already seized upon her, and which must grow 
 greater and more distressing hour by hour and day by 
 day." 
 
 She looked at me, drew a deep breath, and said no 
 more. 
 
 "I can t get hold of the valve-cord," said Crimrose, 
 approaching; "it s broken off too high up; but that 
 won t matter, for I don t believe you ll want to let 
 out any gas ; in fact, I think it will be prudent for you 
 to load up with some stones for ballast so as to be sure 
 you won t go too high. Then if you find yourself get 
 ting too low, you can throw out some of them." 
 
 "Humph!" said Mrs. Pocock; "you think he ll 
 want ballast, do you?" 
 
 The radiant Crimrose apparently did not hear this 
 contemptuous remark. "Before you start," said he, 
 " I ll go over there to that tree where I put my writing- 
 desk, and add something to my letter to Jeannette. 
 The first thing I want you to do, Harry, when you 
 reach land, is to put that letter in the nearest post- 
 office. Then you can attend to getting a vessel for us. 
 Jeannette must be thought of before anybody else." 
 
 He came back very soon to where Mr. Pocock and I 
 were looking for suitable stones for ballast. 
 
 "How are you going to carry this letter, Harry?" 
 said he ; " put it in some pocket where you will be 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 25 
 
 sure it will not drop out, or get wet if there should be 
 rain." 
 
 Before I could answer, Mrs. Pocock spoke. "It 
 ought to be sewed up in a piece of oiled silk/ she 
 said; "for even if it got damp, she might not be able 
 to read it. I ve something that will be just the thing. 
 It s an oil-skin bathing-cap which I brought in case 
 there should be too much wind or rain for my bonnet. 
 Give it to me, and I ll sew it up in a jiffy." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Crimrose, and handed 
 her the letter. 
 
 Mr. Pocock now assured me that I need feel no 
 anxiety about those I left behind me. The tide was 
 receding, and he had examined the boat and found that 
 the water in her had not risen high enough to wet the 
 floor of the little cabin, so he and his wife could occupy 
 one of the compartments that night, and Mr. Crimrose 
 the other, and they would be just as comfortable as if 
 they had been at home. 
 
 In half an hour the grappling-line had been length 
 ened, the ballast put into the car, and everything 
 made ready for me to start; but the watchmaker s wife 
 had not yet finished sewing up the letter in the oil 
 skin cap. Her husband called to her, and she came 
 running toward us. 
 
 " Here it is, " she said ; " and you may get soaking 
 wet yourself, but the letter will be all right. I fast 
 ened a string to the bag by which you can hang it 
 around your neck, where it will be just as safe as if it 
 was a watch." 
 
 " If you want a good watch, " said the watchmaker, 
 " I can lend you one, though I don t know really that 
 
26 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 anything extra in the way of a watch would be of ser 
 vice to you, not taking any interest in the influence of 
 altitudes on balance-wheels." 
 
 I declined his offer, and going to the balloon, clam 
 bered into it. The rest of the party came up to me, 
 and shook hands with me most cordially, wishing me 
 a safe and quick journey. The watchmaker s wife 
 was the last. 
 
 "You take my blessing with you, young man," said 
 she, " and if ever I hope that anything would be of 
 good to anybody, I hope that may be of good to you," 
 and I could see tears in her eyes as she pressed my 
 hand. I felt in my heart that she was a good old 
 woman. 
 
 They loosened the rope, and as it slipped under the 
 root of the tree, I began to rise very slowly. I saw 
 that I had too much ballast in the car, and I threw 
 out some of the stones. Then I went up until the 
 rope with the grapnel at the end of it had been let out 
 to its full length. 
 
 "Are you ready?" cried Crimrose, from below. 
 
 " All right, " I answered. He unhooked the grapnel, 
 and I sailed away, free from every earthly tie. 
 
 Clouds were spreading over the eastern sky, but it 
 was still clear in the west, and it seemed to me as I 
 looked out in the direction in which the moderate but 
 steady breeze was wafting me, that I was slowly drift 
 ing into the sunset, and in my present state of mind 
 that seemed a very good place to drift into. I did not 
 care to give more than one look back at the island, 
 because it grated upon my feelings to see Crimrose 
 standing there wildly waving his handkerchief. 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 27 
 
 On and on I went, never rising so high above the 
 water that I could not have touched it with my grap 
 pling-iron if I had let it down, and steadily moving 
 westward. As it grew darker, I strained my eyes to 
 discover any indications of the coast, but I could see 
 nothing before me but the sky and the sea, still touched 
 with the fading yellow and pink. 
 
 I now opened the basket which Mrs. Pocock had put 
 into the car, and found that she had provided for me 
 somewhat at the expense of those I had left behind. 
 It contained our only remaining bottle of wine and the 
 whole of a chicken, besides a jar of marmalade which 
 I thought would be very much missed by Crimrose. 
 
 I made a good supper, and determining to follow 
 the example of the watchmaker s wife, I made myself 
 comfortable in the bottom of the car. There was noth 
 ing else to do ; for the dark night was now fast settling 
 about me, and when I last looked over the side of the 
 car I could scarcely see the glimmer of the water below 
 me. 
 
 I hoped that nothing would happen to me, and that 
 I would safely reach land and perform my mission, 
 but I could not prevent the thought coming to me that 
 if I should slowly sink into the sea, or should disap 
 pear into the black sky above me, it would be a great 
 relief to a soul, troubled without reason, but still sadly 
 troubled. I did not sleep much ; in fact, the night was 
 passed in a succession of broken naps. Sometimes the 
 car swayed disagreeably, and frequently it would seem 
 to suddenly sink beneath me, making me feel as if I 
 were sitting 011 a chair whose legs were giving way. 
 Once I awoke with a start, and found that I was wet 
 
28 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 and that water was splashing about me. It took but 
 a second to comprehend that the car was close to the 
 sea, sometimes brushing the tops of the waves. In 
 stantly I threw over all the stones that remained in 
 the car, and as the water splashed up over me, I for 
 the first time shuddered with fear. But now I rose 
 clear of the sea, and though I sat and peered down 
 with eager watchfulness, I did not approach it again 
 for a long time. With the first glimmer of dawn I 
 could see the waves again. They were not very far 
 below me, and turning to see how I could further 
 lighten the balloon, I threw out my basket of provis 
 ions. Then I rose again, but it was not long before I 
 began to settle down nearer and nearer to the water. 
 It was plain that the gas was, in some way or the 
 other, oozing out of the balloon. As the daylight 
 became stronger, I was positive that I could see to the 
 west indications of a line of coast. If I could but 
 keep the balloon in the air for only an hour more, it 
 might carry me to land. The grapnel was a heavy 
 thing 5 I drew it in, untied it, and dropped it into the 
 sea. This helped a little, but I soon saw that the car 
 needed further lightening, and I threw out the whole 
 coil of grappling-rope. This sent up both the balloon 
 and my heart; and as the breeze was now very much 
 stronger than when I started, I rapidly approached the 
 land. All desire to melt into the sea or the sky had 
 now disappeared, and I watched the approaching shore 
 with feverish anxiety. I was drawing near to what 
 seemed to be the mouth of a river or narrow inlet, but 
 I was also drawing nearer and nearer to the surface of 
 the sea, and there was nothing else to throw out. 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 29 
 
 It was not long before I hung barely six feet above 
 the water, and then I saw that the balloon must be 
 lightened or I should never reach the land alive. I 
 quickly cut five or six of the cords on opposite sides 
 of the car and tied them together, then, clambering 
 upon the loop thus made, I cut the remaining cords 
 and let the car drop. This resulted in a grand rise 
 into the air, and I did not come down again until I 
 was over the marshy banks of a little river. This was 
 not at all a good place to land, for with the exception 
 of a hummock here and there, there was nothing solid 
 enough for a foothold. As I slowly came down I 
 loAvered myself from the loop in which I had been 
 sitting, and suspended myself from it by my hands. 
 Then, as soon as I approached a hummock I put my 
 foot on it, and gave a spring. This sent me up, and 
 the wind carried me forward, and I covered in my first 
 leap of the sort some twenty or thirty feet. Again 
 and again I repeated this action, sometimes failing to 
 strike a hummock or bunch of grass, but even a kick 
 into the water and mud sent me up a little, and after 
 many efforts and some fruitless splashing I passed the 
 marsh and reached solid ground. 
 
 Here my first impulse was to let go of the balloon, 
 but on second thoughts I decided not to release it yet. 
 Before me lay a long stretch of sandy dunes which I 
 must cross, and as I stood, my feet lightly pressing 
 the ground, and the balloon steadily pulling at me so 
 that I could not stand still, I determined to make still 
 further use of it. With a run and a vigorous spring 
 I cleared nearly a dozen yards. My arms were tired, 
 but the motion was exhilarating; I bounded like a 
 
SO THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 hare or a kangaroo. In a wonderfully short time I 
 had gone over a mile or two of waste land, and saw 
 before me a house, with a man hurrying out of the 
 door. 
 
 As I neared the house I made a bound which carried 
 me easily over a fence, and the man stood looking at 
 me in dumb amazement. My arms now began to feel 
 as if they would be torn from my body, and I shouted 
 to him to come quickly to cut the silk in the balloon. 
 My respect for the Pococks made me anxious to save 
 it, at least what was left of it, if it were possible. 
 
 The man comprehended the situation, and as I held 
 back, he ran up and made a long gash in the balloon 
 as high as he could reach, and then he took hold of 
 the rope to help me hold it. In a few minutes the 
 great silken folds were flopping on the ground. 
 
 I was nearly exhausted with excitement and fatigue, 
 but the man and his wife gave me a warm breakfast, 
 and I told my tale, frequently interrupted by their 
 exclamations of astonishment. In return, the man, 
 who was a small coast farmer, informed me that he 
 knew the island on which we had been cast, and that 
 if he had anything but a row-boat he would be glad to 
 go out and rescue my companions, but there was no 
 one in the neighborhood who owned a sail-boat large 
 enough for such a trip except Captain Archibald 
 Wharton, who lived about a mile up the coast. He 
 had a big fishing-boat. 
 
 Together we went to the fisherman s house. We 
 found Captain Archie, as he was called, but at first he 
 would not believe the tale I told him. However, 
 when my companion asserted that he had seen me 
 
THE WATCHMAKERS WIFE 31 
 
 arrive with the balloon, the fisherman was obliged to 
 give faith to that much of the story; and as the rest 
 could be no more fabulous, he expressed his willing 
 ness to do what he could to bring in my companions. 
 But his boat was not at home ; it had been hired to a 
 fisherman down the coast, who would not return with 
 it until that evening, and then, of course, he could 
 not start out at night. He was opposed to working 
 on Sunday; but he said that if his boat got in in time, 
 he would start out the next day and would probably 
 bring my friends to land before nightfall. I had 
 hoped to get a boat to go immediately to the island, 
 but as there was nothing better to be done, I arranged 
 with Captain Archie, paying him a part of his price 
 in advance in order to hold him to his bargain ; and 
 then having done all that I could in this line, I 
 inquired for the nearest railroad station. This was 
 five miles away, but my friend, the farmer, agreed to 
 take me over in his wagon, also promising to keep the 
 balloon safely until it was called for. 
 
 I did not mail Crimrose s letter to Jeannette; for I 
 reflected as this was Saturday and there would be no 
 mails to-morrow, she would not receive the letter until 
 Monday. So I determined to take it to her myself. 
 This would suit me in every way, for my home, as 
 well as hers, was in Boston. 
 
 It was about the middle of the afternoon when I 
 reached the city, and at first I thought I would go 
 home to array myself in attire more suitable to the 
 occasion than the rough yachting-suit smeared with 
 the mud of the marsh. But all this would take time, 
 and I went immediately to deliver my letter to Jean- 
 
32 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 nette ; and as I knew she would want to know every 
 thing about our mishap, I asked to see her. She came 
 into the room with outstretched hand. If she had 
 been anxious or troubled, it had made her look lovelier. 
 
 "What has happened!" she exclaimed, gazing at 
 my untidy figure; "has there been an accident?" 
 
 "Yes," I said, "but nobody has been hurt, and I 
 bring you a letter from Mr. Crimrose." 
 
 I took from my breast pocket the oil-skin cap of 
 the watchmaker s wife, and removing the string from 
 around my neck I handed the package to Jeannette. 
 
 "You can rip it open better than I can," I said. 
 
 Jeannette laughed. "What a funny little mail- 
 bag," she said. And before she would even attempt 
 to open it she made me tell her the whole history of 
 our adventure. 
 
 I made the narrative as short as I could, touching 
 very lightly upon my homeward balloon trip. Jean 
 nette then opened the bag, saying that when she had 
 read her letter she would want to ask me some ques 
 tions about myself and the balloon. 
 
 I could not sit and look at her read Crimrose s 
 letter. During all the time I had been talking 
 to her there had been growing on my mind the feeling 
 that after all it was a pity that I had been able to 
 lighten the balloon. The next day was Sunday, and 
 Crimrose would probably be in Boston that night. 
 He would see her on Monday and Tuesday, and 011 
 Wednesday they would be married. I turned away 
 from Jeannette, took up a book, and gazed steadfastly 
 at its pages. 
 
 " Two ! " she said presently, in a tone of some sur- 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 33 
 
 prise, and then for a minute I heard nothing but the 
 rustling of paper. Then there was another little 
 exclamation, and I heard the cutting of a second 
 envelope. In a few minutes I heard Jeannette sud 
 denly push back her chair. I looked and saw her 
 standing, her face flushed, and an open letter in her 
 hand. Then, without looking at me, she quickly 
 turned toward the door and went out of the room. 
 
 If Crimrose, instead of adding to the letter he had 
 already prepared, had sent another (which was natural 
 enough, for he must have had a good deal to say), 
 what could he have put into his second epistle which 
 would have caused Jeannette to treat me with such 
 abrupt discourtesy? 
 
 She may not have comprehended the fact that I had 
 risked my life to bring her those letters, but she must 
 ha^e understood that my service was not a common 
 one, and nothing her lover could have said to her 
 should have made her forget that at least I merited 
 ordinary civility. 
 
 I waited some time and then I rang the bell and 
 sent to ask if Miss Collins had any further commands 
 for me. The servant soon returned with the message 
 that her mistress asked to be excused from coming 
 down. Feeling very much like a dog who had been 
 kicked out of doors, I went home. 
 
 I was angry and hurt, and came to the very sensible 
 determination to travel and separate myself as much 
 as possible from the causes of my pain and humilia 
 tion. But I did not start on the next day as I had 
 intended, nor did I go on the day following; a good 
 reason for my delay was my desire to hear something 
 
34 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 about the party I had left on the island. I could not 
 go from Boston without knowing whether or not they 
 had been safely brought to the mainland. I expected 
 that Crimrose would write or telegraph to me as soon 
 as he found it possible, but I heard nothing until I 
 saw, in an afternoon paper on Monday, a short account 
 of the adventure, which stated that Captain Wharton 
 had brought away the desert islanders on Sunday 
 evening. I was quite sure that Crimrose wrote this 
 account, because it was in his style, and contained but 
 a slight reference to my balloon trip, about which he, 
 of course, knew but little. 
 
 The next morning Crimrose came to see me, and 
 explained his not writing by saying that he had been 
 very much pressed for time and knew that I would 
 see the account in the paper. He did not seem to be 
 pressed for time now, for he made himself comfortable 
 in a large chair and lighted a cigar. This surprised 
 me, for he was nearly always in a hurry, and I asked 
 him if he had already finished the business which 
 had made it so important for him to get back to 
 Boston. 
 
 " Oh ! " said he, " you mean preparing to be married. 
 The wedding is postponed." 
 
 "Postponed!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," said he; "it was simply impossible for me 
 to get ready in the little time I had. You haven t any 
 idea what I have to do. I can do as much in a short 
 time as any man can, but it is ridiculous to attempt 
 the impossible." 
 
 "And Miss Collins!" I cried; "what does she 
 think of this ? " 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 35 
 
 " Oh, she does not mind it," said Crimrose; " I don t 
 believe she s ready: women never are. Anyway, she 
 agrees to the postponement." 
 
 "For how long?" I asked. 
 
 " For about a week, perhaps, but it isn t quite settled 
 yet. The fact is, Miss Collins is a good deal upset by 
 the dangers to which I have been exposed, and she does 
 not seem to be able to get her mind down to business. 
 Moreover, and I don t mind saying this to you, as 
 you are an old friend, she seems to be beset with a 
 desire to ask questions. Never in my life have I 
 passed through such an inquisition. I hate answer 
 ing questions and always did. There was not an 
 incident of that wretched adventure that she did not 
 want to know, and afterward to find out its causes and 
 effects and everything about it. I suppose this is 
 not to be wondered at, for she is naturally nervous, 
 and it is a very good thing that we agreed to post 
 pone the wedding. She is not in a state of mind for 
 it now. Twelve o clock! I had no idea it was so 
 late, and I have an engagement at half-past." 
 
 As there was to be no wedding on the next day, I 
 did not leave Boston. I spent several days in a very 
 unpleasant state of mind. There constantly arose 
 within me a desire to kill Crimrose; but as there was 
 really nothing to justify the attempt, I endeavored to 
 smother this desire. It was plain that my friend had 
 no suspicion of my feelings toward him, for on Satur 
 day he called on me, valise in hand. 
 
 "Where are you going?" I said, pushing back from 
 my breakfast-table. 
 
 "I take the eleven o clock train for Quebec," he 
 
36 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 said; "I want some bracing air, and can t wait for it 
 here. I need a change, anyway." 
 
 "Quebec! " I exclaimed; "but you can t get back by 
 Wednesday." 
 
 " Of course not, " said he. " Oh, I see. That s post 
 poned again." 
 
 " Postponed again ! " I cried, rising to my feet. 
 
 "Oh yes," he answered. "The fact is neither of 
 us is ready for it. The engagement is well I 
 may say prolonged or perhaps well, as you will 
 probably get varying accounts, I will state plainly 
 that the engagement is set aside for the present. 
 Miss Collins is well, she has not treated me well. 
 She has put interrogations and made statements that 
 a man of spirit cannot submit to. Of course I do 
 not wish to say anything against her, but I cannot 
 marry anybody in the frame of mind in which Miss 
 Collins is at present. All this of course is " 
 
 " Crimrose ! " I cried, advancing toward him, " are 
 you playing false to Miss Collins? Are you daring 
 to trifle " 
 
 " Stop ! Stop ! " said he ; " don t work yourself into 
 a passion. It isn t any affair of yours, anyway, but 
 I don t mind telling you, since you are getting so 
 excited about it, that I hadn t anything to do with 
 laying this affair on the table. She put the motion, 
 and as she has ever so many more voices than I have, 
 it was carried. But it is satisfactory all around, and 
 when we reopen the matter we will begin afresh. 
 Good by; I will see you before long." 
 
 I did not answer, for my head was in a whirl. 
 Some time during the morning I went to take a walk, 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 37 
 
 but I know I did not finish my breakfast. For days I 
 was as a ship which, without compass or rudder or 
 sails, drifts in a calm. I did not know what I did 
 or why I did it instead of doing something else. 
 
 At last I had a visit, and this was well; for if no 
 one had come to see me, I would have seen nobody. 
 My visitor was the watchmaker s wife, and at first I 
 did not recognize her, nor after we had shaken hands 
 did I remember her name until she mentioned it. 
 
 " I have been trying for a good while, 7 she said, 
 " to find your address so that Mr. Pocock or me could 
 come to see you or write to you. We want to pay 
 you our share of the money you gave Captain Wharton 
 in advance for going after us." 
 
 At this it struck me that Crimrose had not offered 
 to pay his portion of said money. 
 
 "And more than that," the old lady continued, 
 " we want to tell you how greatly obliged we are to 
 you for doing what you did and sending a boat for us, 
 and how thankful we are that you got over safe and 
 sound. I could not sleep that night for thinking of 
 you hanging under that half-empty balloon. But I 
 don t believe I would have found where you lived if 
 it had not been for Miss Collins. I knew her address, 
 for I saw it on Mr. Crimrose J s letter and remembered 
 it." 
 
 "And you have seen her! " I exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh yes, yes," said the old lady, looking down in 
 her lap as she smoothed one mittened hand with the 
 fingers of the other; "I have seen her and had a long 
 talk with her, and have heard all about the breaking 
 off of the engagement." 
 
38 THE WATCHMAKERS WIFE 
 
 "Breaking off! " I exclaimed; " is it entirely broken 
 off?" 
 
 "Oh yes, yes," answered Mrs. Pocock; "and I am 
 sure it is a great blessing for which everybody ought 
 to be thankful. If she had married that Crimrose 
 man, my very heart would have bled for her. I did 
 not know him long, but I saw enough of him to un 
 derstand him through and through. It did not need 
 anything more than to hear what he said when he 
 found out that I had given you that cold chicken 
 and the jar of marmalade. Goodness! I could have 
 thrown a tea-kettle at him. But it s all right now, 
 it s all right now." 
 
 "But Miss Collins," I asked; "what does she think 
 of it?" 
 
 "That s hard to say," answered the old lady; 
 "that s pretty hard to say; but of course she s glad the 
 match is broken off, because now she knows Crimrose 
 as well as I do; but it s natural enough that she 
 should be a good deal upset; anybody would be in a 
 case like that, and I think it is the duty of her friends 
 to go and cheer her up. You, sir, for instance, if 
 you was to go and see her and talk to her cheerfully 
 and tell her all about your balloon trip, that I know 
 she wants to hear about, none of us having been able 
 to tell her anything of it except the starting, it 
 would do her a lot of good." 
 
 "I go to see her!" I exclaimed; "do you know, 
 madam " and then I hesitated. But though a com 
 parative stranger, the old lady was so sympathetic and 
 so kind, that I went on, " Do you know that she treated 
 me rudely when I was there last, and declined to see 
 me when I left?" 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 39 
 
 "Oh don t mind that," said Mrs. Pocock; "don t 
 mind that. She told me all about that. You ought 
 not to take any notice of it at all. The letters you 
 brought her upset her to a degree that it made her lose 
 control of herself. You see I I mean it wasn t 
 expected that she should read her letters when you or 
 anybody was by. You mustn t think of that at all. 
 I know all about it. It wasn t any feeling against 
 you that made her act that way. Go to see her, and 
 you will find out that it wasn t. She will treat you 
 just as polite as ever she did, and it s your duty to go, 
 sir ; for I know she looks upon you as one of her best 
 friends, for she told me so herself." 
 
 When Mrs. Pocock left me she urged me, if ever I 
 happened to be near Barnville, to step in and see her 
 and Mr. Pocock : they would be so glad to see me, and 
 the village was not half an hour from Boston. 
 
 It was an early hour for a call when, the next morn 
 ing, I presented myself at Miss Collins s door; but I 
 was admitted, and turning over in my mind everything 
 that I thought would amuse and interest her in the 
 story of my adventure without agitating her nerves or 
 causing her to think that I was trying to make a hero 
 of myself, I awaited her coming. 
 
 Jeannette was not at her ease with me, but this was 
 not to be wondered at, considering how intimate I had 
 been with her and with Crimrose ; but as the watch 
 maker s wife had told me, she had no unfriendly 
 feelings toward me, and, in fact, apologized for having 
 left me so abruptly when I had called before. It was 
 a sudden nervous attack, she said, and I could readily 
 understand that if Crimrose had behaved as badly as 
 
40 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 he must have done to justify her breaking oft the 
 engagement, he had probably put something into his 
 letters which had shocked the poor girl. It might be 
 that I would yet kill Crimrose, for a more beautiful 
 woman than Jeannette never lived, nor one more 
 worthy to have villains slain in her behalf. 
 
 After a little while Jeannette s stiffness wore off, 
 and I told her everything about my balloon trip. She 
 was so interested and so beautiful that I did not even 
 omit the washing of the waves in the darkness, against 
 the bottom of the car, and my dreadful fears in the 
 morning, that even in sight of the land, the balloon 
 would be too weak to hold me up, and I should sink 
 helpless into the sea. There was moisture in her 
 eyes, her lips were parted, and she leaned forward to 
 look at me. 
 
 " Oh ! how could you dare all that? " she said ; " you 
 must have known the dangers. How did you have 
 the courage to float out in that way into the dreadful 
 mysteries of the night and the sea? " 
 
 I could not help the answer that came to my lips. 
 
 "I did it for you," I said. 
 
 Slipping thus from the brink of the precipice, down 
 I went. 
 
 "It is dreadful," said Jeannette, five minutes after 
 ward, with tears in her eyes, but half laughing; "you 
 shouldn t have spoken so soon. It seems like 
 
 "Never mind," said I, checking her; "it could not 
 be helped, and I wish I had spoken a year ago." 
 
 "I wish you had," whispered Jeannette. 
 
 It was at least half an hour after this, that among 
 all the wonders of this new heavenly world which I 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 41 
 
 had just entered, nothing surprised me more than that 
 she should have been so little surprised when I had 
 opened my heart to her. 
 
 "How could I be/ said she, "after the letter you 
 brought me?" 
 
 " Letter ! I cried ; " did Crimrose " 
 
 "Crimrose!" she said; " what utter nonsense ! But 
 I see that you know nothing. I will get you the letter 
 which gave me the nervous shock." 
 
 She brought it ; it ran thus : 
 
 Miss JEANNETTE COLLINS : 
 
 My. dear young lady : I am a married woman whose husband, 
 Sylvester Pocock, does business in Barnville, and is known all 
 over that country, and I have been cast away on an island in a 
 way that* I haven t time to tell you about, but of which you 
 will soon hear all the particulars. I am in a great hurry, having 
 to write secretly and unobserved, and without stopping to mince 
 matters I beg and implore you with all the earnestness, which 
 one woman who knows what true love is, can appeal with to one 
 who I believe doesn t, not having had a fair chance, not to 
 man y Mr. Crimrose, not, at least, until you have a chance to 
 think over things after what I tell you. That feather-bed of a 
 Crimrose is not the man who really loves you. I have so little 
 time that I have to speak strong; he is a selfish brute and loves 
 nobody but himself. Take time to try him, my dear young 
 lady, and you will find that out for yourself. Mr. Elliot, the 
 gentleman who will bring you this, if you ever get it, is the 
 man who truly loves you. I have so little time that I am 
 obliged to put things strong. He doesn t know it, but I have 
 found out that he loves you from the bottom of his heart, 
 that he would cast himself into the middle of the sea to save 
 you from one sleepless night, and so far as anybody can tell, he 
 may do it. He is going to risk his life to keep you from being 
 worried and anxious. 
 
 He is the modestest man and the best friend that I have ever 
 
42 THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 
 
 met in all my life, and I say boldly, without caring what happens 
 or what people think of me, that if you marry Crirnrose instead 
 of Elliot, you will make a mistake that will bring you years of 
 misery. I can t make this strong enough, for I haven t time and 
 don t know how; but, my dear young lady, I beg and implore 
 you, stop long enough to give your true lover a chance. I have 
 given you warning, look into the matter yourself. Mr. Elliot 
 has loved you for ever so long, and Crimrose never can do it; it 
 isn t in him. 
 
 Nobody knows I am writing this, and it may be drowned in 
 the sea with the noble young man who risks his life to take it 
 to you. It is all mixed up, and you may think it s strong, but it 
 comes from the heart of a woman who doesn t want to see any 
 other woman, even a total stranger, make the mistake that you 
 are on the brink of. 
 
 Yours in haste, 
 
 SARAH POCOCK. 
 
 I stood aghast. "And this," I exclaimed, "was 
 the second letter ! " 
 
 "Of course," said Jeannette. 
 
 " And you knew " 
 
 "I expected, I could not be certain," said Jean 
 nette demurely. " I had suspected something of the 
 sort long ago, and in a manner had expected but 
 nothing ever happened." 
 
 " Bless that watchmaker s wife ! " said I. 
 
 On the first day that I could get an hour or two to 
 spare, I went to Barnville, and, without any trouble, 
 found Mr. Pocock s shop. Pocock is a good man, and 
 he had sense enough to stay in the shop while I sat in 
 the little back parlor and talked to his wife. It was 
 a long interview, and very warm on both sides, but 
 she was such an elderly person no one could object to 
 that. 
 
THE WATCHMAKER S WIFE 43 
 
 " Well, " said she, as I was leaving, and she stood 
 holding me by the hand, "it gladdens my heart to 
 think that there is to be another true, loving couple 
 in this world. And I am sure I ought to feel so, for 
 it is very seldom that a woman has had the chance 
 that I have had of making two men happy." 
 
 "Two men?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," said she; "you and Mr. Pocock." 
 
ASAPH 
 
 ABOUT a hundred feet back from the main street 
 of a village in New Jersey there stood a very 
 good white house. Halfway between it and the side 
 walk was a large chestnut tree, which had been the 
 pride of Mr. Himes, who built the house, and was 
 now the pride of Mrs. Himes, his widow, who lived 
 there. 
 
 Under the tree was a bench and on the bench were 
 two elderly men, both smoking pipes, and each one of 
 them leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 
 One of these, Thomas Rooper by name, was a small 
 man with gray side whiskers, a rather thin face, and 
 very good clothes. His pipe was a meerschaum, 
 handsomely colored, with a long amber tip. He had 
 bought that pipe while on a visit to Philadelphia 
 during the great Centennial Exposition; and if any one 
 noticed it and happened to remark what a fine pipe it 
 was, that person would be likely to receive a detailed 
 account of the circumstances of its purchase, with an 
 appendix relating to the Main building, the Art build 
 ing, the Agricultural building, and many other salient 
 points of the great Exposition which commemorated 
 the centennial of our national independence. 
 
 44 
 
ASAPH 45 
 
 The other man, Asaph Scantle, was of a different 
 type. He was a little older than his companion, but 
 if his hair were gray it did not show very much, as his 
 rather long locks were of a sandy hue and his full face 
 was clean shaven, at least on Wednesdays and Sun 
 days. He was tall, round-shouldered, and his clothes 
 were not good, possessing very evident claims to a 
 position on the retired list. His pipe consisted of a 
 common clay bowl with a long reed stem. 
 
 For some minutes the two men continued to puff 
 together as if they were playing a duet upon tobacco 
 pipes, and then Asaph, removing his reed from his 
 lips, remarked, " What you ought to do, Thomas, is to 
 marry money." 
 
 "There s sense in that," replied the other; "but 
 you wasn t the first to think of it." 
 
 Asaph, who knew very well that Mr. Eooper never 
 allowed any one to suppose that he received sugges 
 tions from without, took no notice of the last remark, 
 but went on: "Lookin at the matter in a friendly 
 way, it seems to me it stands to reason that when the 
 shingles on a man s house is so rotten that the rain 
 comes through into every room on the top floor, and 
 when the plaster on the ceilin is tumblin down more 
 or less all the time and the window sashes is all loose, 
 and things generally in a condition that he can t let 
 that house without spendin at least a year s rent on 
 it to git it into decent order, and when a man s got to 
 the time of life " 
 
 "There s nothin the matter with the time of life," 
 said Thomas; "that s all right." 
 
 "What I was go in to say was," continued Asaph. 
 
46 ASAPH 
 
 " that when a man gits to the time of life when he 
 knows what it is to be comfortable in his mind as well 
 as his body, and that time comes to sensible people as 
 soon as they git fairly growed up, he don t want to 
 give up his good room in the tavern and all the privi 
 leges of the house, and go to live on his own property 
 and have the plaster come down on his own head and 
 the rain come doAvn on the coverlet of his own 
 bed." 
 
 "No, he don t, 7 said Thomas; "and what is more, 
 he isn t go in to do it. But what I git from the rent 
 of that house is what I have to live on; there s no 
 gittin around that pint." 
 
 "Well, then," said Asaph, "if you don t marry 
 money, what are you goin to do? You can t go back 
 to your old business." 
 
 "I never had but one business," said Thomas. "I 
 lived with my folks until I was a good deal more than 
 growed up; and when the war broke out I went as 
 sutler to the rigiment from this place; and all the 
 money I made I put into my property in the village 
 here. That s what I ve lived on ever since. There s 
 no more war, so there s no more sutlers, except away 
 out West where I wouldn t go; and there are no more 
 folks, for they are all dead; and if what Mrs. McJim- 
 sey says is true, there ll be no more tenants in my 
 house after the first of next November. For when the 
 McJimseys go on account of want of general repairs, 
 it is not to be expected that anybody else will come 
 there. There s nobody in this place that can stand 
 as much as the McJimseys can." 
 
 "Consequently," said Asaph, deliberately filling his 
 
ASAPH 47 
 
 pipe, " it stands to reason that there ain t nothin for 
 you to do but marry money." 
 
 Thomas Hooper took his pipe from his mouth and 
 sat up straight. Gazing steadfastly at his companion, 
 he remarked, " If you think that is such a good thing 
 to do, why don t you do it yourself? There can t be 
 anybody much harder up than you are." 
 
 "The law s agin my do in it," said Asaph. "A 
 man can t marry his sister." 
 
 "Are you thinkin of Marietta Himes?" asked Mr. 
 Hooper. 
 
 " That s the one I m thinkin of," said Asaph. " If 
 you can think of anybody better, I d like you to men 
 tion her." 
 
 Mr. Hooper did not immediately speak. He pres 
 ently asked: "What do you call money?" 
 
 "Well," said Asaph, with a little hesitation, "con- 
 siclerin the circumstances, I should say that in a case 
 like this about fifteen hundred a year, a first-rate 
 house, with not a loose shingle on it nor a crack any 
 where, a good garden and an orchard, two cows, a 
 piece of meadow land on the other side of the creek, 
 and all the clothes a woman need have, is money." 
 
 Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "Clothes!" he 
 said. " If she marries she ll go out of black, and then 
 she ll have to have new ones, and lots of em. That 
 would make a big hole in her money, Asaph." 
 
 The other smiled. " I always knowed you was a 
 f ar-seein feller, Thomas ; but it stands to reason that 
 Marietta s got a lot of clothes that was on hand 
 before she went into mournin , and she s not the 
 kind of woman to waste em. She ll be twistin em 
 
48 ASAPH 
 
 about and makin* em over to su.it the fashions, and it 
 won t be like her to be buyin new colored goods when 
 she s got plenty of em already." 
 
 There was now another pause in the conversation 
 and then Mr. Kooper remarked: "Mrs. Hinies must 
 be gettin on pretty well in years." 
 
 "She s not a young woman," saidAsaph; "but if 
 she was much younger she wouldn t have you, and if 
 she was much older you wouldn t have her. So it 
 strikes me she s just about the right pint." 
 
 " How old was John Himes when he died? " asked 
 Thomas. 
 
 "I don t exactly know that; but he was a lot older 
 than Marietta." 
 
 Thomas shook his head. "It strikes me," said 
 he, " that John Himes had a hearty constitution and 
 hadn t ought to died as soon as he did. He fell 
 away a good deal in the last years of his life." 
 
 "And considerin that he died of consumption, he 
 had a right to fall away," said Asaph. "If what you 
 are drivin at, Thomas, is that Marietta isn t a good 
 housekeeper and hasn t the right sort of notions of 
 feedin , look at me. I ve lived with Marietta just 
 about a year, and in that time I have gained forty- 
 two pounds. Now, of course, I ain t unreasonable, 
 and don t mean to say that you would gain forty -two 
 pounds in a year, cause you ain t got the frame and 
 bone to put it on; but it wouldn t surprise me a bit 
 if you was to gain twenty, or even twenty-five pounds 
 in eighteen months, anyway; and more than that 
 you ought not to ask, Thomas, considerin your 
 height and general build." 
 
ASAPH 49 
 
 "Isn t Marietta Himes a good deal of a free 
 thinker ? " asked Thomas. 
 
 " A what ? " cried Asaph. " You mean an infidel? " 
 
 "No," said Thomas, "I don t charge nobody with 
 nothin more than there s reason for; but they do 
 say that she goes sometimes to one church and some 
 times to another, and that if there was a Catholic 
 church in this village she would go to that. And 
 who s goin to say where a woman will turn up when 
 she don t know her own mind better than that ? " 
 
 Asaph colored a little. " The place where Marietta 
 will turn up," said he warmly, "is on a front seat in 
 the kingdom of heaven j and if the people that talk 
 about her will mend their ways, they ll see that I am 
 right. You need not trouble yourself about that, 
 Thomas. Marietta Himes is pious to the heel." 
 
 Mr. Kooper now shifted himself a little on the bench 
 and crossed one leg over the other. " Now look here, 
 Asaph, " he said, with a little more animation than he 
 had yet shown, " supposin all you say is true, have 
 you got any reason to think that Mrs. Himes ain t 
 satisfied with things as they are ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have," said Asaph. "And I don t mind 
 tellin you that the thing she s least satisfied with is 
 me. She wants a man in the house; that is nateral. 
 She wouldn t be Marietta Himes if she didn t. When 
 I come to live with her I thought the whole business 
 was settled; but it isn t. I don t suit her. I don t 
 say she s lookin for another man, but if another 
 man was to come along, and if he was the right 
 kind of a man, it s my opinion she s ready for him. 
 I wouldn t say this to everybody, but I say it to 
 
50 ASAPH 
 
 you, Thomas Kooper, cause I know what kind of a 
 man you are." 
 
 Mr. Eooper did not return the compliment. "I 
 don t wonder your sister ain t satisfied with you/ he 
 said, " for you go ahead of all the lazy men I ever 
 saw yet. They was sayin down at the tavern yester 
 day, only yesterday, that you could do less work in 
 more time than anybody they ever saw before./ 
 
 "There s two ways of workin ," said Asaph. 
 " Some people work with their hands and some with 
 their heads." 
 
 Thomas grimly smiled. "It strikes me," said 
 he, "that the most headwork you do is with your 
 jaws." 
 
 Asaph was not the man to take offence readily, 
 especially when he considered it against his interest 
 to do so, and he showed no resentment at this remark. 
 " Taint so much my not makin myself more gener 
 ally useful," he said, "that Marietta objects to; 
 though, of course, it could not be expected that a man 
 that hasn t got any interest in property would keep 
 workin at it like a man that has got an interest in it, 
 such as Marietta s husband would have; but it s my 
 general appearance that she don t like. She s told 
 me more than once she didn t so much mind my bein 
 lazy as lookin lazy." 
 
 " I don t wonder she thinks that way," said Thomas. 
 " But look here, Asaph, do you suppose that if Mari 
 etta Himes was to marry a man, he would really come 
 into her property?" 
 
 " There ain t nobody that knows my sister better 
 than I know her, and I can say, without any fear of 
 
ASAPH 51 
 
 bein contradicted, that when she gives herself to a 
 man the good-will and fixtures will be included." 
 
 Thomas Hooper now leaned forward with his elbows 
 on his knees without smoking, and Asaph Scantle 
 leaned forward with his elbows on his knees without 
 smoking. And thus they remained, saying nothing 
 to each other, for the space of some ten minutes. 
 
 Asaph was a man who truly used his head a great 
 deal more than he used his hands. He had always 
 been a shiftless fellow, but he was no fool, and this 
 his sister found out soon after she asked him to come 
 and make his home with her. She had not done this 
 because she wanted a man in the house, for she had 
 lived two or three years without that convenience and 
 had not felt the need of it. But she heard that Asaph 
 was in very uncomfortable circumstances, and she had 
 sent for him solely for his own good. The arrange 
 ment proved to be a very good one for her brother, 
 but not a good one for her. She had always known 
 that Asaph s head was his main dependence, but she 
 was just beginning to discover that he liked to use his 
 head so that other people s hands should work for 
 him. 
 
 "There ain t nobody comin to see your sister, is 
 there?" asked Thomas suddenly. 
 
 " Not a livin soul," said Asaph, "except women, 
 married folk, and children. But it has always sur 
 prised me that nobody did come; but just at this 
 minute the field s clear and the gate s open." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Kooper, "I ll think about it." 
 
 "That s right," said Asaph, rubbing his knees with 
 his hands. " That s right. But now tell me, Thomas 
 
52 ASAPH 
 
 Eooper, supposin you get Marietta, what are you 
 goin to do for me?" 
 
 " For you? " exclaimed the other. " What have you 
 got to do with it?" 
 
 "A good deal," said Asaph. "If you get Marietta 
 with her fifteen hundred a year, and it wouldn t sur 
 prise me if it was eighteen hundred, and her house 
 and her garden and her cattle and her field and her 
 furniture, with not a leg loose nor a scratch, you will 
 get her because I proposed her to you, and because 
 I backed you up afterward. And now then, I want 
 to know what you are goin to do for me?" 
 
 "What. do you want?" asked Thomas. 
 
 "The first thing I want," said Asaph, "is a suit of 
 clothes. These clothes is disgraceful." 
 
 " You are right there, " said Mr. Eooper. " I wonder 
 your sister lets you come around in front of the house. 
 But what do you mean by clothes ; winter clothes or 
 summer clothes?" 
 
 " Winter, " said Asaph, without hesitation. " I don t 
 count summer clothes. And when I say a suit of 
 clothes, I mean shoes and hat and underclothes." 
 
 Mr. Eooper gave a sniff. " I wonder you don t say 
 overcoat," he remarked. 
 
 "I do say overcoat," replied Asaph. "A suit of 
 winter clothes is a suit of clothes that you can go out 
 into the weather in without missin nothin ." 
 
 Mr. Eooper smiled sarcastically. "Is there any 
 thing else you want?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Asaph, decidedly; "there is. I want 
 a umbrella." 
 
 "Cotton or silk?" 
 
ASAPH 
 
 53 
 
 Asapli hesitated. He had never had a silk umbrella 
 in his hand in his life. He was afraid to strike too 
 high, and he answered, " I want a good stout gingham." 
 
 Mr. Kooper nodded his head. "Very good," he 
 said. "And is that all?" 
 
 " No," said Asaph, " it ain t all. There is one more 
 thing I want, and that is a dictionary." 
 
 The other man rose to his feet. " Upon my word," 
 he exclaimed, " I never before saw a man that would 
 sell his sister for a dictionary. And what you want 
 with a dictionary is past my coiiceivin ." 
 
 " Well, it ain t past mine, " said Asaph. " For more 
 than ten years I have wanted a dictionary. If I had 
 a dictionary I could make use of my head in a way 
 that I can t now. There is books in this house, 
 but amongst em there is no dictionary. If there 
 had been one, I d been a different man by this time 
 from what I am now, and like as not Marietta 
 wouldn t have wanted any other man in the house 
 but me." 
 
 Mr. Hooper stood looking upon the ground; and 
 Asaph, who had also arisen, waited for him to speak. 
 "You are a graspin man, Asaph," said Thomas. 
 "But there is another thing I d like to know: if I 
 give you them clothes, you don t want them before 
 she s married?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," said Asaph. "If I come to the 
 weddin , I can t wear these things. I have got to 
 have them first." 
 
 Mr. Eooper gave his head a little twist. "There s 
 many a slip twixt the cup and the lip," said he. 
 "Yes," said Asaph; "and there s different cups and 
 
54 ASAPH 
 
 different lips. But what s more, if I was to be best 
 man, which would be nateral, considering I m your 
 friend and her brother, you wouldn t want me standin 
 up in this rig. And that s putt in it in your own 
 point of view, Thomas." 
 
 "It strikes me," said the other, "that I could get a 
 best man that would furnish his own clothes ; but we 
 will see about that. There s another thing, Asaph," 
 he said abruptly; "what are Mrs. Himes s views con- 
 cernin pipes?" 
 
 This question startled and frightened Asaph. He 
 knew that his sister could not abide the smell of 
 tobacco and that Mr. Hooper was an inveterate smoker. 
 
 "That depends," said he, "on the kind of tobacco. 
 I don t mind sayin that Marietta isn t partial to the 
 kind of tobacco I smoke. But I ain t a moneyed man 
 and I can t afford to buy nothin but cheap stuff. But 
 when it comes to a meerschaum pipe and the very 
 finest Virginia or North Carolina smoking tobacco, 
 such as a moneyed man would be likely to use " 
 
 At this moment there came from the house the 
 sound of a woman s voice, not loud, but clear and 
 distinct, and it said "Asaph." 
 
 This word sent through Mr. Eooper a gentle thrill 
 such as he did not remember ever having felt before. 
 There seemed to be in it a suggestion, a sort of 
 prophecy, of what appeared to him as an undefined 
 and chaotic bliss. He was not a fanciful man, but he 
 could not help imagining himself standing alone under 
 that chestnut tree and that voice calling "Thomas." 
 
 Upon Asaph the effect was different. The inter 
 ruption was an agreeable one in one way, because it 
 
ASAPH 55 
 
 cut short his attempted explanation of the tobacco 
 question; but in another way he knew that it meant 
 the swinging of an axe, and that was not pleasant. 
 
 Mr. Eooper walked back to the tavern in a cogita 
 tive state of mind. "That Asaph Scantle," he said 
 to himself, "has got a headpiece, there s no denying 
 it. If it had not been for him I do not believe I 
 should have thought of his sister; at least not until 
 the McJimseys had left my house, and then it might 
 have been too late." 
 
 Marietta Himes was a woman with a gentle voice 
 and an appearance and demeanor indicative of a gen 
 eral softness of disposition, but beneath this mild 
 exterior there was a great deal of firmness of purpose. 
 Asaph had not seen very much of his sister since she 
 had grown up and married ; and when he came to live 
 with her he thought that he was going to have things 
 pretty much his own way. But it was not long before 
 he entirely changed his mind. 
 
 Mrs. Himes was of moderate height, pleasant coun 
 tenance, and a figure inclined to plumpness. Her dark 
 hair, in which there was not a line of gray, was 
 brushed down smoothly on each side of her face, and 
 her dress, while plain, was extremely neat. In fact, 
 everything in the house and on the place was extremely 
 neat, except Asaph. 
 
 She was in the bright little dining-room which 
 looked out on the flower garden, preparing the table 
 for supper, placing every plate, dish, glass, and cup 
 with as much care and exactness as if a civil engineer 
 had drawn a plan on the tablecloth with places marked 
 for the position of each article. 
 
56 ASAPH 
 
 As she finished her work by placing a chair on 
 each side of the table, a quiet smile, the result of a 
 train of thought in which she had been indulging for 
 the past half -hour, stole over her face. She passed 
 through the kitchen, with a glance at the stove to see 
 if the tea-kettle had begun to boil, and going out of 
 the back door, she walked over to the shed where her 
 brother was splitting kindling wood. 
 
 " Asaph," said Mrs. Himes, "if I were to give you 
 a good suit of clothes, would you promise me that you 
 would never smoke when wearing them?" 
 
 Her brother looked at her in amazement. " Clothes ! " 
 he repeated. 
 
 "Mr. Himes was about your size," said his sister, 
 " and he left a good many clothes, which are most of 
 them very good and carefully packed away, so that I 
 am sure there is not a moth hole in any one of them. 
 I have several times thought, Asaph, that I might give 
 you some of his clothes; but it did seem to me a 
 desecration to have the clothes of such a man, who 
 was so particular and nice, filled and saturated with 
 horrible tobacco smoke which he detested. But now 
 you are getting to be so awful shabby, I do not see 
 how I can stand it any longer. But one thing I will 
 not do, I will not have Mr. Himes s clothes smelling 
 of tobacco as yours do, and not only your own tobacco, 
 but Mr. Roopers." 
 
 "I think," said Asaph, "that you are not exactly 
 right just there. What you smell about me is my 
 smoke. Thomas Rooper never uses anything but the 
 finest scented and delicatest brands. I think that if 
 you come to get used to his tobacco smoke you would 
 
ASAPH 57 
 
 like it. But as to my takin off my clothes and puttin 
 on a different suit every time I want to light my pipe, 
 that s pretty hard lines, it seems to me." 
 
 "It would be a good deal easier to give up the 
 pipe," said his sister. 
 
 "I will do that," said Asaph, "when you give up 
 tea. But you know as well as I do that there s no use 
 of either of us a-tryin to change our comfortable 
 habits at our time of life." 
 
 "I kept on hoping," said Mrs. Himes, "that you 
 would feel yourself that you were not fit to be seen by 
 decent people, and that you would go to work and earn 
 at least enough money to buy yourself some clothes. 
 But as you don t seem inclined to do that, I thought I 
 would make you this offer. But you must understand 
 that I will not have you smoke in Mr. Himes s 
 clothes." 
 
 Asaph stood thinking, the head of his axe resting 
 upon the ground, a position which suited him. He 
 was in a little perplexity. Marietta s proposition 
 seemed to interfere somewhat with the one he had 
 made to Thomas Eooper. Here was a state of affairs 
 which required most careful consideration. "I ve 
 been arrangin about some clothes, " he said presently ; 
 "for I know very well I need em; but I don t know 
 just yet how it will turn out." 
 
 "I hope, Asaph," said Marietta quickly, "that you 
 are not thinking of going into debt for clothing, and I 
 know that you haven t been working to earn money. 
 What arrangements have you been making?" 
 
 "That s my private affair," said Asaph, "but 
 there s no debt in it. It is all fair and square 
 
ASAPH 
 
 cash down, so to speak; though, of course, it s not 
 cash, but Avork. But, as I said before, that isn t 
 settled." 
 
 "I am afraid, Asaph," said his sister, "that if you 
 have to do the work first you will never get the 
 clothes, and so you might as well come back to my 
 offer." 
 
 Asaph came back to it and thought about it very 
 earnestly. If by any chance he could get two suits 
 of clothes, he would then feel that he had a head 
 worth having. "What would you say," he said pres 
 ently, " if when I wanted to smoke I was to put on a 
 long duster I guess Mr. Himes had dusters and a 
 nightcap and rubbers? I d agree to hang the duster 
 and the cap in the shed here and never smoke without 
 putting em on." There was a deep purpose in this 
 proposition, for, enveloped in the long duster, he 
 might sit with Thomas Eooper under the chestnut tree 
 and smoke and talk and plan as long as he pleased, 
 and his companion would not know that he did not 
 need a new suit of clothes. 
 
 "Nonsense," said Mrs. Himes; "you must make up 
 your mind to act perfectly fairly, Asaph, or else say 
 you will not accept my offer. But if you don t accept 
 it, I can t see how you can keep on living with me." 
 
 "What do you mean by clothes, Marietta?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Well, I mean a complete suit, of course," said she. 
 
 " Wintef or summer?" 
 
 "I hadn t thought of that," Mrs. Himes replied; 
 "but that can be as you choose." 
 
 "Overcoat?" asked Asaph. 
 
AS APE 59 
 
 "Yes," said she, "and cane and umbrella, if you 
 like, and pocket-handkerchiefs too. I will fit you out 
 completely and shall be glad to have you looking like 
 a decent man. 7 
 
 At the mention of the umbrella another line of 
 perplexity shoAved itself upon Asaph s brow. The 
 idea came to him that if she would add a dictionary 
 he would strike a bargain. Thomas Eooper was cer 
 tainly a very undecided and uncertain sort of man. 
 But then there came up the thought of his pipe, and 
 he was all at sea again. Giving up smoking was 
 almost the same as giving up eating. "Marietta," 
 said he, "I will think about this." 
 
 "Very well," she answered, "but it s my opinion, 
 Asaph, that you ought not to take more than one 
 minute to think about it. However, I will give you 
 until to-morrow morning, and then if you decide that 
 you don t care to look like a respectable citizen, I 
 must have some further talk with you about our future 
 arrangements . " 
 
 "Make it to-morrow night," said Asaph. And his 
 sister consented. 
 
 The next day Asaph was unusually brisk and active ; 
 and very soon after breakfast he walked over to the 
 village tavern to see Mr. Eooper. 
 
 " Hello ! " exclaimed that individual, surprised at 
 his visitor s early appearance at the business centre 
 of the village. "What s started you out? Have you 
 come after them clothes?" 
 
 A happy thought struck Asaph. He had made this 
 visit with the intention of feeling his way towards 
 some decision on the important subject of his sister s 
 
60 ASAPH 
 
 proposition, and here a way seemed to be opened to 
 him. "Thomas," said he, taking his friend aside, "I 
 am in an awful fix. Marietta can t stand my clothes 
 any longer. If she can t stand them she can t stand 
 me, and when it comes to that, you can see for your 
 self that I can t help you." 
 
 A shade settled upon Mr. Rooper s face. During 
 the past evening he had been thinking and puffing 
 and puffing and thinking until everybody else in the 
 tavern had gone to bed, and he had finally made up 
 his mind that, if he could do it, he would marry 
 Marietta Himes. He had never been very intimate 
 with her or her husband, but he had been to meals in 
 the house, and he remembered the fragrant coffee and 
 the light, puffy, well-baked rolls made by Marietta s 
 own hands ; and he thought of the many differences 
 between living in that very good house with that 
 gentle, pleasant-voiced lady and his present life in 
 the village tavern. 
 
 And so, having determined that without delay he 
 would, with the advice and assistance of Asaph, begin 
 his courtship, it was natural that he should feel a 
 shock of discouragement when he heard Asaph s 
 announcement that his sister could not endure him in 
 the house any longer. To attack that house and its 
 owner without the friendly offices upon which he 
 depended was an undertaking for which he was not at 
 all prepared. 
 
 " I don t wonder at her, " he said sharply, " not a 
 bit. But this puts a mighty different face on the 
 thing what we talked about yesterday." 
 
 "It needn t," said Asaph quietly. "The clothes 
 
ASAPH 61 
 
 you was goin to give me wouldn t cost a cent more 
 to-day than they would in a couple of months, say; 
 and when I ve got em on Marietta will be glad to 
 have me around. Everything can go on just as we 
 bargained for." 
 
 Thomas shook his head. " That would be a mighty 
 resky piece of business," he said. "You would be all 
 right, but that s not sayin that I would; for it strikes 
 me that your sister is about as much a bird in the 
 bush as any fly in critter." 
 
 Asaph smiled. " If the bush was in the middle of 
 a field," said he, "and there was only one boy after 
 the bird, it would be a pretty tough job. But if the 
 bush is in the corner of two high walls, and there s 
 two boys, and one of em s got a fishnet what he can 
 throw clean over the bush, why, then the chances is 
 a good deal better. But droppin figgers, Thomas, 
 and speakin plain and straightforward, as I always 
 do " 
 
 "About things you want to git," interrupted 
 Thomas. 
 
 "About everything," resumed Asaph. "I ll just 
 tell you this: if I don t git decent clothes now 
 to-day, or perhaps to-morrow, I have got to travel out 
 of Marietta s house. I can do it and she knows it. I 
 can go back to Drummondville and git my board for 
 keepin books in the store and nobody there cares 
 what sort of clothes I wear. But when that happens, 
 your chance of gittiii Marietta goes up higher than 
 a kite." 
 
 To the mind of Mr. Hooper this was most conclu 
 sive reasoning; but he would not admit it and he did 
 
62 ASAPH 
 
 not like it. "Why don t your sister give you 
 clothes?" he said. "Old Himes must have left 
 some." 
 
 A thin chill like a needleful of frozen thread ran 
 down Asaph s back. "Mr. Himes s clothes!" he 
 exclaimed. "What in the world are you talkin 
 about, Thomas Eooper? Tain t likely he had many 
 cept what he was buried in, and what s left, if there 
 is any, Marietta would no more think of givin away 
 than she would of hangin up his funeral wreath for 
 the canary bird to perch on. There s a room up in 
 the garret where she keeps his special things, for 
 she s awful particular, and if there is any of his 
 clothes up there I expect she s got em framed." 
 
 " If she thinks as much of him as that, " muttered 
 Mr. Eooper. 
 
 " Now don t git any sech ideas as them into your 
 head, Thomas," said Asaph quickly. "Marietta ain t 
 a woman to rake up the past, and you never need be 
 afraid of her rakin up Mr. Himes. All of the prem 
 ises will be hern and yourn except that room in the 
 garret, and it ain t likely she ll ever ask you to go in 
 there." 
 
 "The Lord knows I don t want to!" ejaculated 
 Mr. Eooper. 
 
 The two men walked slowly to the end of a line of 
 well-used, or, rather, badly used, wooden armchairs 
 which stood upon the tavern piazza, and seated them 
 selves. Mr. Eooper s mind was in a highly perturbed 
 condition. If he accepted Asaph s present proposi 
 tion he would have to make a considerable outlay with 
 a very shadowy prospect of return. 
 
ASAPH 63 
 
 "If you haven t got the ready money for the 
 clothes," said Asaph, after having given his com 
 panion some minutes for silent consideration, "there 
 ain t a man in this village what they would trust 
 sooner at the store for clothes," and then after a 
 pause he added, "or books^ which, of course, they 
 can order from town." 
 
 At this Mr. Rooper simply shrugged his shoulders. 
 The question of ready money or credit did not trouble 
 him. 
 
 At this moment a man in a low phaeton, drawn by 
 a stout gray horse, passed the tavern. 
 
 "Who s that?" asked Asaph, who knew everybody 
 in the village. 
 
 " That s Doctor Wicker," said Thomas. " He lives 
 over at Timberley. He tended John Himes in his 
 last sickness." 
 
 "He don t practise here, does he?" said Asaph. 
 "I never see him." 
 
 "No; but he was called in to consult." And then 
 the speaker dropped again into cogitation. 
 
 After a few minutes Asaph rose. He knew that 
 Thomas Rooper had a slow-working mind and thought 
 it would be well to leave him to himself for awhile. 
 "I ll go home," said he, "and tend to my chores, and 
 by the time you feel like comin up and takin a 
 smoke with me under the chestnut tree, I reckon you 
 will have made up your mind, and we ll settle this 
 thing. Fer if I have got to go back to Drummond- 
 ville, I s pose I ll have to pack up this afternoon." 
 
 "If you d say pack off instead of pack up," re 
 marked the other, "you d come nearer the facts, con- 
 
64 ASAPH 
 
 siderin the amount of your personal property. But 
 I ll be up there in an hour or two." 
 
 When Asaph came within sight of his sister s house, 
 he was amazed to see a phaeton and a gray horse 
 standing in front of the gate. From this it was easy 
 to infer that the doctor was in the house. What on 
 earth could have happened? Was anything the mat 
 ter with Marietta? And if so, why did she send for 
 a physician who lived at a distance, instead of Doctor 
 Mcllvaine, the village doctor? In a very anxious 
 state of mind Asaph reached the gate, and irresolutely 
 went into the yard. His impulse was to go to the 
 house and see what had happened; but he hesitated. 
 He felt that Marietta might object to having a com 
 parative stranger know that such an exceedingly 
 shabby fellow was her brother. And, besides, his 
 sister could not have been overtaken by any sudden 
 illness. She had always appeared perfectly well, and 
 there would have been no time during his brief 
 absence from the house to send over to Timberley for a 
 doctor. 
 
 So he sat down under the chestnut tree to consider 
 this strange condition of affairs. "Whatever it is," 
 he said to himself, "it s nothin suddint, and it s 
 bound to be chronic, and that ll skeer Thomas. I 
 wish I hadn t asked him to come up here. The best 
 thing for me to do will be to pretend that I have been 
 sent to git somethin at the store, and go straight back 
 and keep him from comin up." 
 
 But Asaph was a good deal quicker to think than to 
 move, and he still sat with brows wrinkled and mind 
 beset by doubts. For a moment he thought that it 
 
ASAPH 65 
 
 might be well to accept Marietta s proposition and let 
 Thomas go ; but then he remembered the conditions, 
 and he shut his mental eyes at the prospect. 
 
 At that moment the gate opened and in walked 
 Thomas Eooper. He had made up his mind and had 
 come to say so ; but the sight of the phaeton and gray 
 horse caused him to postpone his intended announce 
 ment. "What s Doctor Wicker doin here?" he 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 "Dunno," said Asaph, as carelessly as he could 
 speak. " I don t meddle with household matters of 
 that kind. I expect it s somethin the matter with 
 that gal Betsey, that Marietta hires to help her. She s 
 always wrong some way or other so that she can t do 
 her own proper work, which I know, havin to do a 
 good deal of it myself. I expect it s rickets, like as 
 not. Gals do have that sort of thing, don t they?" 
 
 "Never had anything to do with sick gals," said 
 Thomas, " or sick people of any sort, and don t want to. 
 But it must be somethin pretty deep-seated for your 
 sister to send all the way to Timberley for a doctor." 
 
 Asaph knew very well that Mrs. Himes was too 
 economical a person to think of doing such a thing as 
 that, and he knew also that Betsey was as good a 
 specimen of rustic health as could be found in the 
 county. And therefore his companion s statement 
 that he wanted to have nothing to do with sick people 
 had for him a saddening import. 
 
 " I settled that business of yourn, " said Mr. Kooper, 
 "pretty soon after you left me. I thought I might 
 as well come straight around and tell you about it. 
 I ll make you a fair and square offer. I ll give you 
 
66 ASAPH 
 
 them clothes, though it strikes me that winter goods 
 will be pretty heavy for this time of year; but it will 
 be on this condition: if I don t get Marietta, you have 
 got to give em back." 
 
 Asaph smiled. 
 
 "I know what you are grirmin at," said Thomas; 
 "but you needn t think that you are goin to have the 
 wearin of them clothes for two or three months and 
 then give em back. I don t go in for any long court 
 ships. What I do in that line will be short and 
 sharp." 
 
 "How short?" asked Asaph. 
 
 "Well, this is Thursday," replied the other, "and 
 I calculate to ask her on Monday." 
 
 Asaph looked at his companion in amazement. " By 
 George!" he exclaimed, "that won t work. Why, 
 it took Marietta more n five days to make up her 
 mind whether she would have the chicken house 
 painted green or red, and you can t expect her to be 
 quicker than that in takin a new husband. She d 
 say No just as certain as she would now if you was to 
 go in and ask her right before the doctor and Betsey. 
 And I ll just tell you plain that it wouldn t pay me 
 to do all the hustlin around and talkin and argyin 
 and recommendm that I d have to do just for the 
 pleasure of wearin a suit of warm clothes for four 
 July days. I tell you what it is, it won t do to spring 
 that sort of thing on a woman, especially when she s 
 what you might call a trained widcler. You got to 
 give em time to think over the matter and to look up 
 your references. There s no use talkin about it; you 
 must give em time, especially when the offer comes 
 
ASAPH 67 
 
 from a person that nobody but me has ever thought 
 of as a marry in* man." 
 
 "Humph!" said Thomas. "That s all you know 
 about it." 
 
 "Facts is facts, and you can t git around em. 
 There isiit a woman in this village what wouldn t 
 take at least two weeks to git it into her head that 
 you was really courtin her. She would be just as 
 likely to think that you was tryin to git a tenant in 
 place of the McJimseys. But a month of your courtin 
 and a month of my workin would just about make 
 the matter all right with Marietta, and then you could 
 sail in and settle it." 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Eooper, rising suddenly. " I 
 will court your sister for one month; and if, on the 
 17th day of August, she takes me, you can go up to 
 the store and git them clothes ; but you can t do it one 
 minute afore. Good mornin ." 
 
 Asaph, left alone, heaved a sigh. He did not 
 despair; but truly, fate was heaping a great many 
 obstacles in his path. He thought it was a very hard 
 thing for a man to get his rights in this world. 
 
 Mrs. Himes sat on one end of a black hair-covered 
 sofa in the parlor, and Doctor Wicker sat on a black 
 hair-covered chair opposite to her and not far 
 away. The blinds of the window opening upon the 
 garden were drawn up; but those on the front win 
 dow, which commanded a view of the chestnut tree, 
 were down. Doctor Wicker had just made a proposal 
 of marriage to Mrs. Himes, and at that moment they 
 were both sitting in silence. 
 
 The doctor, a bluff, hearty-looking man of about 
 
68 ASAPH 
 
 forty-five, had been very favorably impressed by Mrs. 
 Himes when he first made her acquaintance, during 
 her husband s sickness, and since that time he had 
 seen her occasionally and had thought about her a 
 great deal. Latterly letters had passed between them, 
 and now he had come to make his declaration in person. 
 
 It was true, as her brother had said, that Marietta 
 was not quick in making up her mind. But in this 
 case she was able to act more promptly than usual, 
 because she had in a great measure settled this matter 
 before the arrival of the doctor. She knew he was 
 going to propose, and she was very much inclined to 
 accept him. This it was which had made her smile 
 when she was setting the table the afternoon before, 
 and this it was which had prompted her to make her 
 proposition to her brother in regard to his better 
 personal appearance. 
 
 But now she was in a condition of nervous trepida 
 tion, and made no answer. The doctor thought this 
 was natural enough under the circumstances, but he 
 had no idea of the cause of it. The cause of it was 
 sitting under the chestnut tree, the bright sunlight, 
 streaming through a break in the branches above, 
 illuminating and emphasizing and exaggerating his 
 extreme shabbiness. The doctor had never seen 
 Asaph, and it would have been a great shock to 
 Marietta s self-respect to have him see her brother in 
 his present aspect. 
 
 Through a crack in the blind of the front window 
 she had seen Asaph come in and sit down, and she had 
 seen Mr. Hooper arrive and had noticed his departure. 
 And now, with an anxiety which made her chin trem- 
 
ASAPH 69 
 
 ble, she sat and hoped that Asaph would get up and 
 go away. For she knew that if she should say to 
 the doctor what she was perfectly willing to say then 
 and there, he would very soon depart, being a man of 
 practical mind and pressing business ; and that, going 
 to the front door with him, she would be obliged to 
 introduce him to a prospective brother-in-law whose 
 appearance, she truly believed, would make him sick. 
 For the doctor was a man, she well knew, who was 
 quite as nice and particular about dress and personal 
 appearance as the late Mr. Himes had been. 
 
 Doctor Wicker, aware that the lady s perturbation 
 was increasing instead of diminishing, thought it wise 
 not to press the matter at this moment. He felt that 
 he had been, perhaps, a little over-prompt in making 
 his proposition. "Madam," said he, rising, "I will 
 not ask you to give me an answer now. I will go 
 away and let you think about it, and will come again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Through the crack in the window blind Marietta 
 saw that Asaph was still under the tree. What could 
 she do to delay the doctor? She did not offer to take 
 leave of him, but stood looking upon the floor. It 
 seemed a shame to make so good a man go all the way 
 back to Timberley and come again next day, just 
 because that ragged, dirty Asaph was sitting under 
 the chestnut tree. 
 
 The doctor moved toward the door, and as she fol 
 lowed him she glanced once more through the crack in 
 the window blind, and, to her intense delight, she saw 
 Asaph jump up from the bench and run around to the 
 side of the house. He had heard the doctor s foot- 
 
70 ASAPH 
 
 steps in the hallway and had not wished to meet him. 
 The unsatisfactory condition of his outward appear 
 ance had been so strongly impressed upon him of late 
 that he had become a little sensitive in regard to it 
 when strangers were concerned. But if he had only 
 known that his exceedingly unattractive garments had 
 prevented his sister from making a compact which 
 would have totally ruined his plans in regard to her 
 matrimonial disposition and his own advantage, he 
 would have felt for those old clothes the respect and 
 gratitude with which a Eoman soldier regarded the 
 shield and sword which had won him a battle. 
 
 Down the middle of the garden, at the back of the 
 house, there ran a path, and along this path Asaph 
 walked meditatively, with his hands in his trousers 
 pockets. It was a discouraging place for him to walk, 
 for the beds on each side of him were full of weeds, 
 which he had intended to pull out as soon as he should 
 find time for the work, but which had now grown so 
 tall and strong that they could not be rooted up with 
 out injuring the plants, which were the legitimate 
 occupants of the garden. 
 
 Asaph did not know it, but at this moment there 
 was not one person in the whole world who thought 
 kindly of him. His sister was so mortified by him 
 that she was in tears in the house. His crony, Thomas, 
 had gone away almost-angry with him, and even Betsey, 
 whom he had falsely accused of rickets, and who had 
 often shown a pity for him simply because he looked so 
 forlorn, had steeled her heart against him that morn 
 ing when she found he had gone away without pro 
 viding her with any fuel for the kitchen fire. 
 
ASAPH 71 
 
 But ho had not made a dozen turns up and down the 
 path before he became aware of the feeling of Mari 
 etta. She looked out of the back door and then 
 walked rapidly toward him. "Asaph," said she, "I 
 hope you are considering what I said to you yester 
 day, for I mean to stick to my word. If you don t 
 choose to accept my offer, I want you to go back to 
 Drummondville early to-morrow morning. And I 
 don t feel in the least as if I were turning you out of 
 the house, for I have given you a chance to stay here, 
 and have only asked you to act like a decent Chris 
 tian. I will not have you here disgracing my home. 
 When Doctor Wicker came to-day, and I looked out 
 and saw you with that miserable little coat with the 
 sleeves half-way up to the elbows and great holes in 
 it which you will not let anybody patch, because you 
 are too proud to wear patches, and those wretched 
 faded trousers, out at the knees, and which have been 
 turned up and hemmed at the bottom so often that 
 they are six inches above your shoes, and your whole 
 scarecrow appearance, I was so ashamed of you that 
 I could not keep the tears out of my eyes. To tell 
 a respectable gentleman like Doctor Wicker that you 
 were my brother was more than I could bear ; and I 
 was glad when I saw you get up and sneak out of the 
 way. I hate to talk to you in this way, Asaph, but 
 you have brought it on yourself." 
 
 Her brother looked at her a moment. " Do you want 
 me to go away before breakfast?" he said. 
 
 "No," answered Marietta, "but immediately after 
 ward." And in her mind she resolved that breakfast 
 should be very early the next morning. 
 
72 ASAPH 
 
 If Asaph had any idea of yielding, lie did not intend 
 to show it until the last moment, and so he changed 
 the subject. "What s the matter with Betsey? " said 
 he. " If she s out of health you d better get rid of 
 her." 
 
 "There s nothing the matter with Betsey," an 
 swered his sister. "Doctor Wicker came to see me." 
 
 " Came to see you ! " exclaimed her brother. " What 
 in the world did he do that for? you never told me 
 that you were ailin . Is it that sprain in your ankle? " 
 
 "Nonsense," said Marietta. "I had almost recov 
 ered from that sprain when you came here. There s 
 nothing the matter with my ankle, the trouble is 
 probably with my heart." 
 
 The moment she said this she regretted it, for 
 Asaph had so good a head, and could catch meanings 
 so quickly. 
 
 "I m sorry to hear that, Marietta," said Asaph. 
 "That s a good deal more serious." 
 
 " Yes," said she. And she turned and went back to 
 the house. 
 
 Asaph continued to walk up and down the path. 
 He had not done a stroke of work that morning, but 
 he did not think of that. His sister s communication 
 saddened him. He liked Marietta, and it grieved him 
 to hear that she had anything the matter with her 
 heart. He knew that that often happened to people 
 who looked perfectly well, and there was no reason 
 why he should have suspected any disorder in her. 
 Of course, in this case, there was good reason for her 
 sending for the very best doctor to be had. It was all 
 plain enough to him now. 
 
AS APR 73 
 
 But as he walked and walked and walked, and 
 looked at the garden, and looked at the little orchard, 
 and looked at the house and the top of the big chest 
 nut tree, which showed itself above the roof, a thought 
 came into his mind which had never been there before 
 he was Marietta s heir. It was a dreadful thing to 
 think of his sister s possible early departure from this 
 world; but, after all, life is life, reality is reality, and 
 business is business. He was Marietta s only legal 
 heir. 
 
 Of course he had known this before, but it had 
 never seemed to be of any importance. He was a 
 good deal older than she was, and he had always 
 looked upon her as a marrying woman. When he 
 made his proposition to Mr. Eooper the thought of his 
 own heirship never came into his mind. In fact, if 
 anyone had offered him ten dollars for said heirship, 
 he would have asked fifteen, and would have afterward 
 agreed to split the difference and take twelve and a 
 half. 
 
 But now everything had changed. If Marietta had 
 anything the matter with her heart, there was no 
 knowing when all that he saw might be his own. ISTo 
 sooner had he walked and thought long enough for his 
 mind to fully appreciate the altered aspects of his 
 future, than he determined to instantly thrust out Mr. 
 Rooper from all connection with that future. He 
 would go and tell him so at once. 
 
 To the dismay of Betsey, who had been watching 
 him, expecting that he would soon stop walking about 
 and go and saw some wood with which to cook the 
 dinner, he went out of the front gate and strode 
 
74 ASAPH 
 
 rapidly into the village. He had some trouble in 
 rinding Mr. Booper, who had gone off to take a walk 
 and arrange a conversation with which to begin his 
 courtship of Mrs. Himes, but he overtook him under a 
 tree by the side of the creek. " Thomas/ said he, " I 
 have changed my mind about that business between 
 us. You have been very hard on me, and I m not 
 goin to stand it. I can get the clothes and things I 
 need without makin myself your slave and workin 
 myself to death, and, perhaps, settin my sister agin 
 me for life by try in to make her believe that black s 
 white, that you are the kind of husband she ought to 
 have, and that you hate pipes and never touch spirits. 
 It would be a mean thing for me to do, and I won t do 
 it. I did think you were a generous-minded man 
 with the right sort of feeling for them as wanted to 
 be your friends, but I have found out that I was mis 
 took, and I m not goin to sacrifice my sister to any 
 such person. Now that s my state of mind plain and 
 square." 
 
 Thomas Kooper shrunk two inches in height. " Asaph 
 Scantle," he said, in a voice which seemed also to have 
 shrunk, " I don t understand you. I wasn t hard on 
 you. I only wanted to make a fair bargain. If I d 
 got her, I d paid up cash on delivery. You couldn t 
 expect a man to do more than that. But I tell you, 
 Asaph, that I am mighty serious about this. The 
 more I have thought about your sister the more I 
 want her. And when I tell you that I ve been 
 a-thinkin about her pretty much all night, you may 
 know that I want her a good deal. And I was in- 
 tendin to go to-morrow and begin to court her." 
 
ASAPH 75 
 
 "Well, you needn t," said Asapli. "It won t do no 
 good. If you don t have me to back you up you might 
 as well try to twist that tree as to move her. You 
 can t do it." 
 
 "But you don t mean to go agin me, do you, 
 Asapli?" asked Thomas, ruefully. 
 
 " Tain t necessary," replied the other. "You will 
 go agin yourself. " 
 
 For a few moments Mr. Rooper remained silent. 
 He was greatly discouraged and dismayed by what 
 had been said to him, but he could not yet give up 
 what had become the great object of his life. " Asaph," 
 said he, presently, " it cuts me to the in ards to think 
 that you have gone back on me ; but I tell you what 
 I ll do, if you will promise not to say anything agin 
 me to Mrs. Himes, and not to set yourself in any way 
 between me and her, I ll go along with you to the 
 store now and you can git that suit of clothes and the 
 umbrella, and I ll tell em to order the dictionary and 
 hand it over to you as soon as it comes. I d like you 
 to help me, but if you will only promise to stand out 
 of the way and not hinder, I ll do the fair thing by 
 you and pay in advance." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Asaph. " I do believe you think 
 you are the only man that wants Marietta." 
 
 A pang passed through the heart of Mr. Rooper. 
 He had been thinking a great deal of Mrs. Himes 
 and everything connected with her, and he had even 
 thought of that visit of Doctor Wicker s. That gen 
 tleman was a widower and a well-to-do and well-ap 
 pearing man ; and it would have been a long way for 
 him to come just for some trifling rickets in a servant- 
 
76 ASAPH 
 
 girl. Being really in love, his imagination was in a 
 very capering mood, and lie began to fear that the 
 doctor had come to court Mrs. Himes. "Asaph," he 
 said quickly, "that s a good offer I make you. If 
 you take it, in less than an hour you can walk home 
 looking like a gentleman." 
 
 Asaph had taken his reed pipe from his coat pocket 
 and was tilling it. As he pushed the coarse tobacco 
 into the bowl, he considered. "Thomas," said he, 
 "that ain t enough. Things have changed, and it 
 wouldn t pay me. But I won t be hard on you. I m 
 a good friend of yourn, and I ll tell you what I ll do. 
 If you will give me now all the things AVC spoke of 
 between us, and I forgot to mention a cane and 
 pocket-handkerchiefs, and give me, besides, that 
 meerschaum pipe of yourn, I ll promise not to hinder 
 you, but let you go ahead and git Marietta if you kin. 
 I must say it s a good deal for me to do, knowin 
 how much you ll git and how little you ll give, and 
 knowin , too, the other chances she s got if she wanted 
 em; but I ll do it for the sake of friendship." 
 
 " My meerschaum pipe ! " groaned Mr. E-ooper. 
 " My Centennial Exhibition pipe ! " His tones were 
 so plaintive that for a moment Asaph felt a little 
 touch of remorse. But then he reflected that if 
 Thomas really did get Marietta the pipe would be of 
 no use to him, for she would not allow him to smoke 
 it. And, besides, realities were realities and business 
 was business. "That pipe may be very dear to you," 
 he said, " Thomas, but I want you to remember that 
 Marietta s very dear to me." 
 
 This touched Mr. Eooper, whose heart was sensitive 
 
ASAPH 77 
 
 as it had never been before. "Come along, Asaph," 
 he said. "You shall have everything, meerschaum 
 pipe included. If anybody but me is goin. to smoke 
 that pipe, I d like it to be my brother-in-law." Thus, 
 with amber-tipped guile, Mr. Kooper hoped to win 
 over his friend to not only not hinder, but to help 
 him. 
 
 As the two men walked away, Asaph thought that 
 he was not acting an unfraternal part toward Marietta, 
 for it would not be necessary for him to say or do 
 anything to induce her to refuse so unsuitable a suitor 
 as Thomas Kooper. 
 
 About fifteen minutes before dinner which had 
 been cooked with bits of wood which Betsey had picked 
 up here and there was ready, Asaph walked into 
 the front yard of his sister s house attired in a com 
 plete suit of new clothes, thick and substantial in 
 texture, pepper-and-salt in color, and as long in the 
 legs and arms as the most fastidious could desire. He 
 had on a new shirt and a clean collar, with a hand 
 some black silk cravat tied in a great bow, and a new 
 felt hat was on his head. On his left arm he carried 
 an overcoat, carefully folded, with the lining outside, 
 and in his right hand, an umbrella and a cane. In his 
 pockets were half a dozen new handkerchiefs and the 
 case containing Mr. Hooper s Centennial meerschaum. 
 
 Marietta, who was in the hallway when he opened 
 the front door, scarcely knew him as he approached. 
 
 " Asaph ! " she exclaimed. " What has happened 
 to you? Why, you actually look like a gentleman! " 
 
 Asaph grinned. " Do you want me to go to Drum- 
 mondville right after breakfast to-morrow? " he asked. 
 
78 ASAPH 
 
 "My dear brother," said Marietta, "don t crush me 
 by talking about that. But if you could have seen 
 yourself as I saw you, and could have felt as I felt, 
 you would not wonder at me. You must forget all 
 that. I should be proud now to introduce you as my 
 brother to any doctor or king or president. But tell 
 me how you got those beautiful clothes." 
 
 Asaph was sometimes beset by an absurd regard for 
 truth, which much annoyed him. He could not say 
 that he had worked for the clothes, and he did not 
 wish his sister to think that he had run in debt for 
 them. "They re paid for, every thread of em," he 
 said. "I got em in trade. These things is mine, 
 and I don t owe no man a cent for em; and it seems 
 to me that dinner must be ready." 
 
 "And proud I am," said Marietta, who never before 
 had shown such enthusiastic affection for her brother, 
 "to sit down to the table with such a nice-looking 
 fellow as you are." 
 
 The next morning Mr. Eooper came into Mrs. 
 Himes s yard, and there beheld Asaph, in all the glory 
 of his new clothes, sitting under the chestnut tree 
 smoking the Centennial meerschaum pipe. Mr. 
 Eooper himself was dressed in his very best clothes, 
 but he carried with him no pipe. 
 
 "Sit down," said Asaph, "and have a smoke." 
 
 "Xo," replied the other; "I am goin in the house. 
 I have come to see your sister." 
 
 "Goin to begin already?" said Asaph. 
 
 "Yes," said the other; "I told you I was going to 
 begin to-day." 
 
 "Very good," said his friend, crossing his pepper- 
 
AS APR 79 
 
 and-salt legs, " and you will finish the 17th of Augnst. 
 That s a good, reasonable time." 
 
 But Mr. Rooper had no intention of courting Mrs. 
 Himes for a month. He intended to propose to her 
 that very morning. He had been turning over the 
 matter in his mind, and for several reasons had come 
 to this conclusion. In the first place, he did not 
 believe that he could trust Asaph, even for a single 
 day, not to oppose him. Furthermore, his mind was 
 in such a turmoil from the combined effect of the 
 constantly present thought that Asaph was wearing 
 his clothes, his hat, and his shoes, and smoking his 
 beloved pipe, and of the perplexities and agitations 
 consequent upon his sentiments toward Mrs. Himes, 
 that he did not believe he could bear the mental strain 
 during another night. 
 
 Five minutes later Marietta Himes was sitting on 
 the horse-hair sofa in the parlor, with Mr. Rooper on 
 the horse-hair chair opposite to her, and not very far 
 away, and he was delivering the address which he had 
 prepared. 
 
 "Madam," said he, "I am a man that takes things 
 in this world as they comes, and is content to wait 
 until the time comes for them to come. I was well 
 acquainted with John Himes. I knowed him in life, 
 and I helped lay him out. As long as there was 
 reason to suppose that the late Mr. Himes I mean 
 that the grass over the grave of Mr. Himes had 
 remained unwithered, I am not the man to take one 
 step in the direction of his shoes, nor even to consider 
 the size of em in connection with the measure of my 
 own feet. But time will pass on in nater as well as 
 
80 ASAPH 
 
 in real life; and while I know very well, Mrs. Himes, 
 that certain feelin s towards them that was is like the 
 leaves of the oak tree and can t be blowed off even by 
 the fiercest tempests of affliction, still them leaves will 
 wither in the fall and turn brown and curl up at the 
 edges, though they don t depart, but stick on tight as 
 wax all winter until in the springtime they is pushed 
 off gently without knowin it by the green leaves which 
 come out in real life as well as nater." 
 
 When he had finished this opening Mr. Rooper 
 breathed a little sigh of relief. He had not forgotten 
 any of it, and it pleased him. 
 
 Marietta sat and looked at him. She had a good 
 sense of humor and, while she was naturally surprised 
 at what had been said to her, she was greatly amused 
 by it, and really wished to hear what else Thomas 
 Rooper had to say to her. 
 
 "Now, madam," he continued, "I am not the man 
 to thrash a tree with a pole to knock the leaves off 
 before their time. But when the young leaves is 
 pushin and the old leaves is droppiii (not to make 
 any allusion, of course, to any shrivellin of proper 
 respect), then I come forward, madam, not to take 
 the place of anybody else, but jest as the nateral con 
 sequence of the seasons, which everybody ought to 
 expect; even such as you, madam, which I may liken 
 to a hemlock-spruce which keeps straight on in the 
 same general line of appearance without no reference 
 to the fall of the year, nor winter nor summer. And 
 so, Mrs. Himes, I come here to-day to offer to lead 
 you agin to the altar. I have never been there myself, 
 and there ain t no woman in the world that I d go with 
 
ASAPH 81 
 
 but you. I m a straightforward person, and when I ve 
 got a thing to say, I say it, and now I have said it. 
 And so I set here awaitin your answer." 
 
 At this moment the shutters of the front window, 
 which had been closed, were opened, and Asaph put 
 in his head. "Look here, Thomas Eooper," he said, 
 "these shoes is pegged. I didn t bargain for no 
 pegged shoes; I wanted em sewed; everything was 
 to be first class." 
 
 Mr. Eooper, who had been leaning forward in his 
 chair, his hands upon his knees, and his face glisten 
 ing with his expressed feelings as brightly as the old- 
 fashioned but shining silk hat which stood on the 
 floor by his side, turned his head, grew red to the 
 ears, and then sprang to his feet. "Asaph Scantle," 
 he cried, with extended fist, "you have broke your 
 word; you hindered." 
 
 "No, I didn t," said Asaph, sulkily; "but pegged 
 shoes is too much for any man to stand." And he 
 withdrew from the window, closing the shutters again. 
 
 "What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Himes, who 
 had also risen. 
 
 "It means," said Thomas, speaking with difficulty, 
 his indignation was so great, " that your brother is a 
 person of tricks and meanders beyond the reach of 
 common human calculation. I don t like to say this 
 of a man who is more or less likely to be my brother- 
 in-law, but I can t help say in it, so entirely upset am 
 I at his goin back on me at such a minute." 
 
 " Going back on you? " asked Mrs. Himes. " What 
 do you mean? What has he promised?" 
 
 Thomas hesitated. He did not wish to interrupt 
 
82 ASAPH 
 
 his courtship by the discussion of any new question, 
 especially this question. "If we could settle what 
 we have been talkin about, Mrs. Hiines," he said, 
 " and if you would give me my answer, then I could 
 git my mind down to commoner things. But swingin 
 on a hook as I am, I don t know whether my head or 
 my heels is uppermost, or what s revolvin around 
 me." 
 
 "Oh, I can give you your answer quickly enough," 
 she said. " It is impossible for me to marry you, so 
 that s all settled." 
 
 "Impossible is a big word," said Mr. Eooper. 
 " Has anybody else got afore me ? " 
 
 "I am not bound to answer that question," said 
 Marietta, slightly coloring ; " but I cannot accept you, 
 Mr. Hooper." 
 
 "Then there s somebody else, of course," said 
 Thomas, gazing darkly upon the floor. "And what s 
 more, Asaph knew it; that s just as clear as daylight. 
 That s what made him come to me yesterday and go 
 back on his first bargain." 
 
 "Now then," said Mrs. Himes, speaking very de 
 cidedly, "I want to know what you mean by this 
 talk about bargains." 
 
 Mr. Eooper knit his brows. " This is mighty differ 
 ent talk," he said, "from the kind I expected when I 
 come here. But you have answered my question, now 
 I ll answer yours. Asaph Scantle, no longer ago 
 than day before yesterday, after hearin that things 
 wasn t goin very well with me, recommended me to 
 marry you, and agreed that he would do his level best, 
 by day and by night, to help me git you, if I would 
 
ASAPH 83 
 
 give him a suit of clothes, an umbrella, and a dic 
 tionary." 
 
 At this Mrs. Himes gave a little gasp and sat 
 down. 
 
 "Xow, I hadn t no thoughts of tradin for a wife," 
 continued Thomas, "especially in woollen goods and 
 books, but when I considered and turned the matter 
 over in my mind, and thought what a woman you was, 
 and what a life there was afore me if I got you, I 
 agreed to do it. Then he wanted pay aforehand, and 
 that I wouldn t agree to, not because I thought you 
 wasn t wuth it, but -because I couldn t trust him if 
 anybody offered him more before I got you. But 
 that ain t the wust of it; yesterday he come down to 
 see me and went back on his bargain, and that, after 
 I had spent the whole night thinkin of you and 
 what I was goin to say. And he put on such high- 
 cockalorum airs that I, bein as soft as mush around 
 the heart, jest wilted and agreed to give him every 
 thing he bargained for if he would promise not to 
 hinder. But he wasn t satisfied with that and 
 wouldn t come to no terms until I d give him my 
 Centennial pipe, what s been like a child to me this 
 many a year. And when he saw how disgruntled I 
 was at sich a loss, he said that my pipe might be very 
 dear to me, but his sister was jest as dear to him. 
 And then, on top of the whole thing, he pokes his head 
 through the shutters and hinders jest at the most tick 
 lish moment." 
 
 " A dictionary and a pipe ! " ejaculated poor Mari 
 etta, her eyes fixed upon the floor. 
 
 "But I m goin to make him give em all back," 
 
84 ASAPH 
 
 exclaimed Thomas. "They was the price of not 
 hindering and he hindered." 
 
 "He shall give them back/ 7 said Marietta, rising, 
 "but you must understand, Mr. Kooper, that in no 
 way did Asaph interfere with your marrying me. 
 That was a matter with which he did have and could 
 have nothing to do. And now I wish you could get 
 away without speaking to him. I do not want any 
 quarrelling or high words here, and I will see him 
 and arrange the matter better than you can do it." 
 
 " Oh, I can git away without speakin to him, " said 
 Mr. Kooper, with reddened face. - And so saying, he 
 strode out of the house, through the front yard and 
 out of the gate without turning his head toward 
 Asaph, still sitting under the tree. 
 
 " Oh, ho," said the latter to himself, " she s bounced 
 him short and sharp ; and it serves him right, too, after 
 playin that trick on me. Pegged shoes, indeed! " 
 
 At this moment the word " Asaph " came from the 
 house in tones shriller and sharper and higher than 
 any in which he had ever heard it pronounced before. 
 He sprang to his feet and went to the house. His 
 sister took him into the parlor and shut the door. 
 Her eyes were red and her face was pale. "Asaph," 
 said she, " Mr. Rooper has told me the whole of your 
 infamous conduct. Now I know what you meant 
 when you said that you were making arrangements to 
 get clothes. You were going to sell me for* them. 
 And when you found out that I was likely to marry 
 Doctor Wicker, you put up your price and wanted a 
 dictionary and a pipe." 
 
 "No, Marietta," said Asaph, "the dictionary be- 
 
ASAPII 85 
 
 longed to the first bargain. If you knew how I need 
 a dictionary " 
 
 "Be still! " she cried. "I do not want you to say 
 a word. You have acted most shamefully toward me, 
 and I want you to go away this very day. And before 
 you go you must give back to Mr. Rooper everything 
 that you got from him. I will fit you out with some 
 of Mr. Himes s clothes and make no conditions at all, 
 only that you shall go away. Come up stairs with 
 me, and I will get the clothes." 
 
 The room in the garret was opened and various 
 garments which had belonged to the late Mr. Himes 
 were brought out. 
 
 "This is pretty hard on me, Marietta," said Asaph, 
 as he held up a coat, " to give up new all-wool goods 
 for things what has been worn and is part cotton, if I 
 am a judge." 
 
 Marietta said very little. She gave him what 
 clothes he needed and insisted on his putting them 
 on, making a package of the things he had received 
 from Mr. Rooper and returning them to that gentle 
 man. Asaph at first grumbled, but he finally obeyed 
 with a willingness which might have excited the 
 suspicions of Marietta had she not been so angry. 
 
 With an enormous package wrapped in brown paper 
 in one hand and a cane, an umbrella, and a very small 
 hand-bag in the other, Asaph approached the tavern. 
 Mr. Rooper was sitting on the piazza alone. He was 
 smoking a very common-looking clay pipe and gazing 
 intently into the air in front of him. When his old 
 crony came and stood before the piazza he did not 
 turn his head nor his eyes. 
 
86 
 
 ASAPH 
 
 " Thomas Booper," said Asaph, "you have got me 
 into a very bad scrape. I have been turned out of 
 doors on account of what you said about me. And 
 where I am goin I don t know, for I can t walk to 
 Drummondville. And what s more, I kept my word 
 and you didn t. I didn t hinder you; for how could 
 I suppose that you was goin to pop the question the 
 very minute you got inside the door? And that dic 
 tionary you promised I ve not got." 
 
 Thomas Booper answered not a word, but looked 
 steadily in front of him. "And there s another 
 thing," said Asaph. "What are you goin to allow 
 me for that suit of clothes what I ve been wearing 
 what I took off in your room and left there? " 
 
 At this Mr. Booper sprang to his feet with such 
 violence that the fire danced out of the bowl of his 
 pipe. " What is the fare to Drummondville? " he cried. 
 
 Asaph reflected a moment. "Three dollars and 
 fifty cents, includin supper." 
 
 "I ll give you that for them clothes," said the 
 other, and counted out the money. 
 
 Asaph took it and sighed. " You ve been hard on 
 me, Thomas," said he, "but I bear you no grudge. 
 Good by." 
 
 As he walked slowly toward the station Mr. Scantle 
 stopped at the store. "Has that dictionary come that 
 was ordered for me?" he said; and when told that it 
 could not be expected for several days, he did not 
 despair, for it was possible that Thomas Booper might 
 be so angry that he would forget to countermand the 
 order; in that case he might yet hope to obtain the 
 coveted book. 
 
ASAPH 87 
 
 The package containing the Hooper winter suit was 
 heavy, and Asaph walked slowly. He did not want to 
 go to Drummondville, for he hated book-keeping, and 
 his year of leisure and good living had spoiled him for 
 work and poor fare. In this moody state he was very 
 glad to stop and have a little chat with Mrs. McJim- 
 sey, who was sitting at her front window. 
 
 This good lady was the principal dressmaker of the 
 village ; and by hard work and attention to business 
 she made a very comfortable living. She was a widow, 
 small of stature, thin of feature, very neatly dressed 
 and pleasant to look at. Asaph entered the little front 
 yard, put his package on the doorstep and stood under 
 the window to talk to her. Dressed in the clothes of 
 the late Mr. Himes, her visitor presented such a 
 respectable appearance that Mrs. McJimsey was not 
 in the least ashamed to have people see him standing 
 there, which she would have been a few days ago. 
 Indeed, she felt complimented that he should want to 
 stop. The conversation soon turned upon her removal 
 from her present abode. 
 
 "I m awfully sorry to have to go," she said; "for 
 my time is up just in the middle of my busy season, 
 and that s goin to throw me back dreadfully. He 
 hasn t done right by me, that Mr. Hooper, in lettin 
 things go to rack and ruin in this way, and me payin 
 his rent so regular." 
 
 "That s true," said Asaph. "Thomas Eooper is 
 a hard man a hard man, Mrs. McJimsey. I can 
 see how he would be overbearin with a lone woman 
 like you : neither your son nor your daughter bein of 
 age yet to take your part." 
 
88 ASAPH 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Scantle, it s very hard." 
 
 Asaph stood for a moment looking at a little bed of 
 zinnias by the side of the doorstep. " What you want, 
 Mrs. McJimsey," said he, "is a man in the house." 
 
 In an instant Mrs. McJimsey flushed pink. It was 
 such a strange thing for a gentleman to say to her. 
 
 Asaph saw the flush. He had not expected that 
 result from his remark, but he was quick to take 
 advantage of it. "Mrs. McJimsey," said he, "you 
 are a widow, and you are imposed upon, and you need 
 somebody to take care of you. If you will put that 
 job into my hands I will do it. I am a man what 
 works with his head, and if you will let me I ll work 
 for you. To put it square, I ask you to marry me. 
 My sister s goin to be married, and I m on the pint 
 of goin away; for I could not abear to stay in her 
 house when strangers come into it. But if you say 
 the word, I ll stay here and be yours forever and ever 
 more." 
 
 Mrs. McJimsey said not a word, but her head 
 drooped and wild thoughts ran through her brain. 
 Thoughts not wild, but well-trained and broken, ran 
 through Asaph s brain. The idea of going to Drum- 
 mondville and spending for the journey thither a 
 dollar and seventy-five cents of the money he had 
 received from Mr. Eooper now became absolutely 
 repulsive to him. 
 
 "Mrs. McJimsey," said he, " I will say more. Not 
 only do I ask you to marry me, but I ask you to do it 
 now. The evenin sun is settin , the evenin birds 
 is singin , and it seems to me, Mrs. McJimsey, that 
 all nater pints to this softenin hour as a marryin 
 
ASAPH 89 
 
 moment. You say your son won t be home from his 
 work until supper time, and your daughter has gone 
 out for a walk. Come with me to Mr. Parker s, the 
 Methodist minister, arid let us join hands at the altar 
 there. The gardener and his wife is always ready to 
 stand up as witnesses. And when your son and your 
 daughter comes home to supper, they can find their 
 mother here afore em married and settled." 
 
 "But, Mr. Scan tie," exclaimed Mrs. McJimsey, 
 "it s so suddint. What will the neighbors say?" 
 
 "As for bein suddint, Mrs. McJimsey, I ve knowed 
 you for nearly a year, and now, bein on the way to 
 leave what s been my happy home, I couldn t keep 
 the truth from you no longer. And as for the neigh 
 bors, they needn t knoAV that we hain t been engaged 
 for months." 
 
 "It s so queer, so very queer," said the little dress 
 maker. And her face flushed again, and there were 
 tears, not at all sorrowful ones, in her eyes ; and her 
 somewhat needle-pricked left hand accidentally laid 
 itself upon the window sill in easy reach of any one 
 outside. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Rooper, being of a practical 
 way of thinking, turned his thoughts from love and 
 resentment to the subject of his income. And he soon 
 became convinced that it would be better to keep the 
 McJimseys in his house, if it could be done without 
 too great an outlay for repairs. So he walked over to 
 his property. When he reached the house he was 
 almost stupefied to see Asaph in a chair in the front 
 yard, dressed in the new suit of clothes which he, 
 Thomas Kooper, had paid for, and smoking the Cen 
 tennial pipe. 
 
90 ASAPH 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Kooper," said Asaph, in aloud 
 and cheery voice. " I suppose you ve come to talk to 
 Mrs. McJimsey about the work you ve got to do here 
 to make this house fit to live in. But there ain t no 
 Mrs. McJimsey. She s Mrs. Scantle now, and I m 
 your tenant. You can talk to me." 
 
 Doctor Wicker came to see Mrs. Himes in the after 
 noon of the day he had promised to come, and early 
 in the autumn they were married. Since Asaph 
 Scantle had married and settled he had not seen his 
 sister nor spoken to her; but he determined that on 
 so joyful an occasion as this he would show no resent 
 ment. So he attended the wedding in the village 
 church dressed in the suit of clothes which had 
 belonged to the late Mr. Himes. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 A MAN S birth is generally considered the most 
 important event of his existence, but I truly 
 think that what I am about to relate was more impor 
 tant to me than my entrance into this world ; because, 
 had not these things happened, I am of the opinion 
 that my life would have been of no value to me and 
 my birth a misfortune. 
 
 My father, Joshua Cuthbert, died soon after I came 
 to my majority, leaving me what he had considered a 
 comfortable property. This consisted of a large house 
 and some forty acres of land, nearly the whole of 
 which lay upon a bluff, which upon three sides de 
 scended to a little valley, through which ran a gentle 
 stream. I had no brothers or sisters. My mother 
 died when I was a boy, and I, Walter Cuthbert, was 
 left the sole representative of my immediate family. 
 
 My estate had been a comfortable one to my father, 
 because his income from the practice of his profession 
 as a physician enabled him to keep it up and provide 
 satisfactorily for himself and me. I had no profes 
 sion and but a very small income, the result of a few 
 investments my father had made. Left to myself, I 
 felt no inducement to take up any profession or busi- 
 
 91 
 
92 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 ness. My wants were simple, and for a few years I 
 lived without experiencing any inconvenience from 
 the economies which I was obliged to practise. My 
 books, my dog, my gun, and my rod made life pass 
 very pleasantly to me, and the subject of an increase 
 of income never disturbed my mind. 
 
 But as time passed on the paternal home began to 
 present an air of neglect and even dilapidation, which 
 occasionally attracted my attention and caused, as I 
 incidentally discovered, a great deal of unfavorable 
 comment among my neighbors, who thought that I 
 should go to work and at least earn money enough to 
 put the house and grounds in a condition which should 
 not be unworthy the memory of the good Dr. Cuth- 
 bert. In fact, I began to be looked upon as a shift 
 less young man; and, now and then, I found a person 
 old enough and bold enough to tell me so. 
 
 But, instead of endeavoring to find some suitable 
 occupation by which I might better my condition and 
 improve my estate, 1 fell in love, which, in the opinion 
 of my neighbors, was the very worst thing that could 
 have happened to me at this time. I lived in a thrifty 
 region, and for a man who could not support himself 
 to think of taking upon him the support of a wife, 
 especially such a wife as Agnes Havelot would be, 
 was considered more than folly and looked upon as a 
 crime. Everybody knew that I was in love with Miss 
 Havelot, for I went to court her as boldly as I went 
 to fish or shoot. There was a good deal of talk about 
 it, and this finally came to the ears of Mr. Havelot, 
 my lady s father, who, thereupon, promptly ordered 
 her to have no more to do with me. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 93 
 
 The Havelot estate, which adjoined mine, was a 
 very large one, containing hundreds and hundreds of 
 acres; and the Havelots were rich, rich enough to 
 frighten any poor young man of marrying intent. 
 But I did not appreciate the fact that I was a poor 
 young man. I had never troubled my head about 
 money as it regarded myself, and I now did not 
 trouble my head about it as it regarded Agnes. I 
 loved her, I hoped she loved me, and all other con 
 siderations were thrown aside. Mr. Havelot, how 
 ever, was a man of a different way of thinking. 
 
 It was a little time before I became convinced that 
 the decision of Agnes s father, that there should be 
 no communication between that dear girl and myself, 
 really meant anything. I had never been subjected 
 to restrictions, and I did not understand how people 
 of spirit could submit to them ; but I was made to 
 understand it when Mr. Havelot, finding me wander 
 ing about his grounds, very forcibly assured me that 
 if I should make my appearance there again, or if he 
 discovered any attempt on my part to communicate 
 with his daughter in any way, he would send her from 
 home. He concluded the very brief interview by 
 stating that if I had any real regard for his daughter s 
 happiness I would cease attentions which would meet 
 with the most decided disapprobation from her only 
 surviving parent, and which would result in exiling 
 her from home. I begged for one more interview 
 with Miss Havelot, and if it had been granted I should 
 have assured her of the state of my affections, no 
 matter if there were reasons to suppose that I would 
 never see her again; but her father very sternly 
 
94 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 forbade anything of the kind, and I went away 
 crushed. 
 
 It was a very hard case, for if I played the part of 
 a bold lover, and tried to see Agnes without regard 
 to the wicked orders of her father, I should certainly 
 be discovered; and then it would be not only myself, 
 but the poor girl, who would suffer. So I determined 
 that I would submit to the Havelot decree. ISTo mat 
 ter if I never saw her again, never heard the sound of 
 her voice, it would be better to have her near me, to 
 have her breathe the same air, cast up her eyes at the 
 same sky, listen to the same birds, that 1 breathed, 
 looked at, and listened to, than to have her far away, 
 probably in Kentucky, where I knew she had rela 
 tives, and where the grass was blue and the sky prob 
 ably green, or at any rate would appear so to her if in 
 the least degree she felt as I did in regard to the ties 
 of home and the affinities between the sexes. 
 
 I now found myself in a most doleful and even 
 desperate condition of mind. There was nothing in 
 the world which I could have for which I cared. 
 Hunting, fishing, and the rambles through woods and 
 fields that had once been so delightful to me, now 
 became tasks which I seldom undertook. The only 
 occupation in which I felt the slightest interest was 
 that of sitting in a tower of my house with a tele 
 scope, endeavoring to see my Agnes on some portion 
 of her father s grounds; but, although I diligently 
 directed my glass at the slightest stretch of lawn or 
 bit of path which I could discern through openings 
 in the foliage, I never caught sight of her. I knew, 
 however, by means of daily questions addressed to my 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 95 
 
 cook, whose daughter was a servant in the Havelot 
 house, that Agnes was yet at home. For that reason 
 I remained at home. Otherwise, I should have be 
 come a wanderer. 
 
 About a month after I had fallen into this most 
 unhappy state an old friend came to see me. We had 
 been school-fellows, but he differed from me in al 
 most every respect. He was full of ambition and 
 energy, and, although he was but a few years older 
 than myself, he had already made a name in the 
 world. He was a geologist, earnest and enthusiastic 
 in his studies and his investigations. He told me 
 frankly that the object of his visit was twofold. In 
 the first place, he wanted to see me, and, secondly, lie 
 wanted to make some geological examinations on my 
 grounds, which were situated, as he informed me, 
 upon a terminal moraine, a formation which he had 
 not yet had an opportunity of practically investigating. 
 I had not known that I lived on a moraine, and now 
 that I knew it, I did not care. But Tom Burton 
 glowed with high spirits and lively zeal as he told me 
 how the great bluff on which my house stood, together 
 with the other hills and wooded terraces which 
 stretched away from it along the side of the valley, 
 had been formed by the minute fragments of rock and 
 soil, which, during ages and ages, had been gradually 
 pushed down from the mountains by a great glacier 
 which once occupied the country to the northeast of 
 my house. "Why, Walter, my boy," he cried, "if I 
 had not read it all in the books I should have known 
 for myself, as soon as I came here* that there had 
 once been a glacier up there, and as it gradually 
 
06 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 moved to the southwest it had made this country 
 what it is. Have you a stream down there in that 
 dell which I see lies at right-angles with the valley 
 and opens into it?" 
 
 "No," said I; "I wish there were one. The only 
 stream we have flows along the valley and not on my 
 property." 
 
 Without waiting for me Tom ran down into my 
 dell, pushed his way through the underbrush to its 
 upper end, and before long came back flushed with 
 heat and enthusiasm. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, "that dell was once the bed 
 of a glacial stream, and you may as well clear it out 
 and plant corn there if you want to, for there never 
 will be another stream flowing through it until there 
 is another glacier out in the country beyond. And 
 now I want you to let me dig about here. I want to 
 find out what sort of stuff the glacier brought down 
 from the mountains. I will hire a man and will 
 promise you to fill up all the holes I make." 
 
 I had no objection to my friend s digging as much 
 as he pleased, and for three days he busied himself in 
 getting samples of the soil of my estate. Sometimes 
 I went out and looked at him, and gradually a little 
 of his earnest ardor infused itself into me, and with 
 some show of interest I looked into the holes he had 
 made and glanced over the mineral specimens he 
 showed me. 
 
 "Well, Walter," said he, when he took leave of 
 me, "I am very sorry that I did not discover that 
 the glacier had raked out the bed of a gold-mine from 
 the mountains up there and brought it down to you, 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 97 
 
 or, at any rate, some valuable iron-ore. But I am 
 obliged to say it did not do anything of the sort. But 
 I can tell you one thing it brought you, and, although 
 it is not of any great commercial value, I should 
 think you could make good use of it here on your 
 place. You have one of the finest deposits of gravel 
 on this bluff that I have met with, and if you were to 
 take out a lot of it and spread it over your driveways 
 and paths, it would make it a great deal pleasanter 
 for you to go about here in bad weather and would 
 wonderfully improve your property. Good roads 
 always give an idea of thrift and prosperity." And 
 then he went away with a valise nearly full of min 
 eral specimens which he assured me were very inter 
 esting. 
 
 My interest in geological formations died away as 
 soon as Tom Burton had departed, but what he said 
 about making gravel roads giving the place an air of 
 thrift and prosperity had its effect upon my mind. 
 It struck me that it would be a very good thing if 
 people in the neighborhood, especially the Havelots, 
 were to perceive on my place some evidences of thrift 
 and prosperity. Most palpable evidences of unthrift 
 and impecuniosity had cut me off from Agnes, and 
 why might it not be that some signs of improved 
 circumstances would remove, to a degree at least, the 
 restrictions which had been placed between us? This 
 was but a very little thing upon which to build hopes ; 
 but ever since men and women have loved they have 
 built grand hopes upon very slight foundations. I 
 determined to put my roadways in order. 
 
 My efforts in this direction were really evidence of 
 
98 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 anything but thriftiness, for I could not in the least 
 afford to make my drives and walks resemble the 
 smooth and beautiful roads which wound over the 
 Havelot estate, although to do this was my intention, 
 and I set about the work without loss of time. I took 
 up this occupation with so much earnestness that it 
 seriously interfered with my observations from the 
 tower. 
 
 I hired two men and set them to work to dig a 
 gravel-pit. They made excavations at several places, 
 and very soon found what they declared to be a very 
 fine quality of road-gravel. I ordered them to dig on 
 until they had taken out what they believed to be 
 enough to cover all my roads. When this had been 
 done, I would have it properly spread and rolled. As 
 this promised to be a very good job, the men went to 
 work in fine spirits and evidently made up their minds 
 that the improvements I desired would require a vast 
 deal of gravel. 
 
 When they had dug a hole so deep that it became 
 difficult to throw up the gravel from the bottom, I. 
 suggested that they should dig at some other place. 
 But to this they objected, declaring that the gravel 
 was getting better and better, and it would be well to 
 go on down as long as the quality continued to be so 
 good. So, at last, they put a ladder into the pit, one 
 man carrying the gravel up in a hod, while the other 
 dug it ; and when they had gone down so deep that 
 this was no longer practicable, they rigged up a der 
 rick and windlass and drew up the gravel in a bucket. 
 
 Had I been of a more practical turn of mind I might 
 have perceived that this method of working made the 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE W 
 
 job a very long and, consequently, to the laborers, a 
 profitable one ; but no such idea entered into my head, 
 and not noticing whether they were bringing up sand 
 or gravel I allowed them to proceed. 
 
 One morning I went out to the spot where the 
 excavation was being made and found that the men 
 had built a fire on the ground near the opening of 
 the pit, and that one of them was bending over it 
 warming himself. As the month was July this natu 
 rally surprised me, and I inquired the reason for so 
 strange a performance. 
 
 " Upon my soul," said the man who was rubbing his 
 hands over the blaze, " I do not wonder you are sur 
 prised, but it s so cold down at the bottom of that pit 
 that me fingers is almost frosted; and we haven t 
 struck any wather neither, which couldn t be expected, 
 of course, a-diggin down into the hill like this." 
 
 I looked into the hole and found it was very deep. 
 "I think it would be better to stop digging here," 
 said I, "and try some other place." 
 
 "I wouldn t do that just now," said the other man, 
 who was preparing to go down in the bucket; "to be 
 sure, it s a good deal more like a well than a gravel- 
 pit, but it s bigger at the top than at the bottom, and 
 there s no danger of its cavin in, and now that we ve 
 got everything rigged up all right, it would be a pity 
 to make a change yet awhile." 
 
 So I let them go on; but the next day when I went 
 out again I found that they had come to the conclusion 
 that it was time to give up digging in that hole. 
 They both declared that it almost froze their feet to 
 stand on the ground where they worked at the bottom 
 
100 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 of the excavation. The slow business of drawing up 
 the gravel by means of a bucket and windlass was, 
 therefore, reluctantly given up. The men now went 
 to work to dig outward from this pit toward the edge 
 of the bluff which overlooked my little dell, and 
 gradually made a wide trench, which they deepened 
 until and I am afraid to say how long they worked 
 before this was done they could walk to the origi 
 nal pit from the level of the dell. They then deepened 
 the inner end of the trench, wheeling out the gravel 
 in barrows, until they had made an inclined pathway 
 from the dell to the bottom of the pit. The wheeling 
 now became difficult, and the men soon declared that 
 they were sure that they had quite gravel enough. 
 
 When they made this announcement, and I had gone 
 into some financial calculations, I found that I would 
 be obliged to put an end to my operations, at least for 
 the present, for my available funds were gone, or 
 would be when I had paid what I owed for the work. 
 The men were very much disappointed by the sudden 
 ending of this good job, but they departed, and I was 
 left to gaze upon a vast amount of gravel of which, 
 for the present at least, I could not afford to make the 
 slightest use. 
 
 The mental despondency which had been somewhat 
 lightened during my excavating operations now re 
 turned, and I became rather more gloomy and downcast 
 than before. My cook declared that it was of no 
 use to prepare meals which I never ate, and suggested 
 that it would save money if I discharged her. As 
 I had not paid her anything for a long time, I did not 
 see how this would benefit me. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 10 J 
 
 Wandering about one day with my hat pulled down 
 over my eyes and my hands thrust deep into my 
 pockets, I strolled into the dell and stood before the 
 wide trench which led to the pit in which I had 
 foolishly sunk the money which should have supported 
 me for months. I entered this dismal passage and 
 walked slowly and carefully down the incline until I 
 reached the bottom of the original pit, where I had 
 never been before. I stood here looking up and 
 around me and wondering how men could bring them 
 selves to dig down into such dreary depths simply for 
 the sake of a few dollars a week, when I involuntarily 
 began to stamp my feet. They were very cold, 
 although I had not been there more than a minute. I 
 wondered at this and took up some of the loose gravel 
 in my hand. It was quite dry, but it chilled my 
 fingers. I did not understand it, and I did not try to, 
 but walked up the trench and around into the dell 
 thinking of Agnes. 
 
 I was very fond of milk, which, indeed, was almost 
 the only food I now cared for, and I was consequently 
 much disappointed at my noonday meal when I found 
 that the milk had soured and was not fit to drink. 
 
 "You see, sir," said Susan, "ice is very scarce and 
 dear, and we cannot afford to buy much of it. There 
 was no freezin weather last winter, and the price has 
 gone up as high as the thermometer, sir, and so, between 
 the two of em, I can t keep things from spoilin ." 
 
 The idea now came to me that if Susan would take 
 the milk, and anything else she wished to keep cool 
 in this hot weather, to the bottom of the gravel-pit, 
 she would find the temperature there cold enough to 
 preserve them without ice, and I told her so. 
 
102 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 The next morning Susan came to me with a pleased 
 countenance and said, " I put the butter and the milk 
 in that pit last night, and the butter s just as hard and 
 the milk s as sweet as if it had been kept in an ice 
 house. But the place is as cold as an ice-house, sir, 
 and unless! am mistaken, there s ice in it. Anyway, 
 what do you call that?" And she took from a little 
 basket a piece of grayish ice as large as my fist. 
 "When I found it was so cold down there, sir," she 
 said, " I thought I would dig a little myself and see 
 what made it so; and I took a fire-shovel and hatchet 
 and, when I had scraped away some of the gravel, I 
 came to something hard and chopped off this piece of 
 it, which is real ice, sir, or I know nothing about it. 
 Perhaps there used to be an ice-house there, and you 
 might get some of it if you dug, though why anybody 
 should put it down so deep and then cover it up, I m 
 sure I don t know. But as long as there s any there, 
 I think we should get it out, even if there s only a 
 little of it; for I cannot take everything down to 
 that pit, and we might as well have it in the refriger 
 ator." 
 
 This seemed to me like very good sense, and if I 
 had had a man I should have ordered him to go down 
 to the pit and dig up any lumps of ice he might find 
 and bring them to the house. But I had no man, and 
 I therefore became impressed with the opinion that if 
 I did not want to drink sour milk for the rest of the 
 summer, it might be a good thing for me to go down 
 there and dig out some of the ice myself. So with 
 pick-axe and shovel I went to the bottom of the pit 
 and set myself to work. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 103 
 
 A few inches below the surface I found that my 
 shovel struck something hard, and, clearing away the 
 gravel from this for two or three square feet, I looked 
 down upon a solid mass of ice. It was dirty and 
 begrimed, but it was truly ice. With my pick 1 
 detached some large pieces of it. These, with some 
 discomfort, I carried out into the dell where Susan 
 might come with her basket and get them. 
 
 For several days Susan and I took out ice from the 
 pit, and then I thought that perhaps Tom Burton 
 might feel some interest in this frozen deposit in my 
 terminal moraine, and so I wrote to him about it. He 
 did not answer my letter, but instead arrived himself 
 the next afternoon. 
 
 "Ice at the bottom of a gravel-pit," said he, "is a 
 thing I never heard of. Will you lend me a spade 
 and a pick-axe? " 
 
 When Torn came out of that pit it was too cold a 
 place for me to go with him and watch his proceedings 
 I saw him come running toward the house. 
 
 "Walter," he shouted, "we must hire all the men 
 we can find and dig, dig, dig. If I am not mistaken 
 something has happened on your place that is wonder 
 ful almost beyond belief. But we must not stop to 
 talk. We must dig, dig, dig; dig all day and dig all 
 night. Don t think of the cost. I ll attend to that. 
 I ll get the money. What we must do is to find men 
 and set them to work." 
 
 "What s the matter?" said I. "What has hap 
 pened?" 
 
 "I haven t time to talk about it now; besides I 
 don t want to, for fear that I should find that I am 
 
104 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 mistaken. But get on your hat, my dear fellow, and 
 let s go over to the town for men." 
 
 The next day there were eight men working under 
 the direction of my friend Burton, and although they 
 did not work at night as he wished them to do, they 
 labored steadfastly for ten days or more before Tom 
 was ready to announce what it was he had hoped to 
 discover, and whether or not he had found it. For a 
 day or two I watched the workmen from time to time, 
 but after that I kept away, preferring to await the 
 result of my friend s operations. He evidently ex 
 pected to find something worth having, and whether 
 he was successful or not, it suited me better to know 
 the truth all at once and not by degrees. 
 
 On the morning of the eleventh day Tom came into 
 the room where I was reading and sat down near me. 
 His face was pale, his eyes glittering. "Old friend," 
 said he, and as he spoke I noticed that his voice was 
 a little husky, although it was plain enough that his 
 emotion was not occasioned by bad fortune "my 
 good old friend, I have found out what made the 
 bottom of your gravel-pit so uncomfortably cold. You 
 need not doubt what I am going to tell you, for my 
 excavations have been complete and thorough enough 
 to make me sure of what I say. Don t you remember 
 that I told you that ages ago there was a vast glacier 
 in the country which stretches from here to the moun 
 tains? Well, sir, the foot of that glacier must have 
 reached further this way than is generally supposed. 
 At any rate a portion of it did extend in this direction 
 as far as this bit of the world which is now yours. 
 This end, or spur of the glacier, nearly a quarter of a 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 105 
 
 mile in width, I should say, and pushing before it a 
 portion of the terminal moraine on which you live, 
 came slowly toward the valley until suddenly it 
 detached itself from the main glacier and disappeared 
 from sight. That is to say, my boy " and as he 
 spoke Tom sprang to his feet, too excited to sit any 
 longer " it descended to the bowels of the earth, at 
 least for a considerable distance in that direction. 
 Now you want to know how this happened. Well, 
 I ll tell you. In this part of the country there are 
 scattered about here and there great caves. Geolo 
 gists know one or two of them, and it is certain that 
 there are others undiscovered. Well, sir, your glacier 
 spur discovered one of them, and when it had lain over 
 the top of it for an age or two, and had grown bigger 
 and bigger, and heavier and heavier, it at last burst 
 through the rock roof of the cave, snapping itself from 
 the rest of the glacier and falling in one vast mass to 
 the bottom of the subterranean abyss. Walter, it is 
 there now. The rest of the glacier came steadily 
 down; the moraines were forced before it; they cov 
 ered up this glacier spur, this broken fragment, and 
 by the time the climate changed and the average of 
 temperature rose above that of the glacial period, this 
 vast sunken mass of ice was packed away below the 
 surface of the earth, out of the reach of the action of 
 friction, or heat, or moisture, or anything else which 
 might destroy it. And through all the long proces 
 sion of centuries that broken end of the glacier has 
 been lying in your terminal moraine. It is there now. 
 It is yours, Walter Cuthbert. It is an ice-mine. It 
 is wealth, and so far as I can make out, it is nearly 
 
106 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 all upon your land. To you is the possession, but to 
 me is the glory of the discovery. A bit of the glacial 
 period kept in a cave for us ! It is too wonderful to 
 believe! Walter, have you any brandy?" 
 
 It may well be supposed that by this time I was 
 thoroughly awakened to the importance and the amaz 
 ing character of my friend s discovery, and I hurried 
 with him to the scene of operations. There he 
 explained everything and showed me how, by digging 
 away a portion of the face of the bluff, he had found 
 that this vast fragment of the glacier, which had been 
 so miraculously preserved, ended in an irregularly 
 perpendicular wall, which extended downward he 
 knew not how far, and the edge of it on its upper side 
 had been touched by my workmen in digging their 
 pit. " It was the gradual melting of the upper end of 
 this glacier," said Tom, " probably more elevated than 
 the lower end, that made your dell. I wondered why 
 the depression did not extend further up toward the 
 spot where the foot of the glacier was supposed to 
 have been. This end of the fragment, being sunk in 
 deeper and afterward covered up more completely, 
 probably never melted at all." 
 
 "It is amazing astounding," said I ; "but what of 
 it, now that we have found it?" 
 
 "What of it?" cried Tom, and his whole form 
 trembled as he spoke. "You have here a source of 
 wealth, of opulence which shall endure for the rest of 
 your days. Here at your very door, where it can be 
 taken out and transported with the least possible 
 trouble, is ice enough to supply the town, the county, 
 yes, I might say, the State, for hundreds of years. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 107 
 
 No, sir; I cannot go in. to supper. I cannot eat. I 
 leave to you the business and practical part of this 
 affair. I go to report upon its scientific features." 
 
 "Agnes," I exclaimed, as I walked to the house 
 with my hands clasped and my eyes raised to the sky, 
 " the glacial period has given thee to me ! " 
 
 This did not immediately follow, although I went 
 that very night to Mr. Havelot and declared to him 
 that I was now rich enough to marry his daughter. 
 He laughed at me in a manner which was very annoy 
 ing, and made certain remarks which indicated that 
 he thought it probable that it was not the roof of the 
 cave, but my mind, which had given away under the 
 influence of undue pressure. 
 
 The contemptuous manner in which I had been 
 received aroused within me a very unusual state of 
 mind. While talking to Mr. Havelot I heard not far 
 away in some part of the house a voice singing. It 
 was the voice of Agnes, and I believed she sang so 
 that I could hear her. But as her sweet tones reached 
 my ear there came to me at the same time the harsh, 
 contemptuous words of her father. I left the house 
 determined to crush that man to the earth beneath a 
 superincumbent mass of ice or the evidence of the 
 results of the ownership of such a mass which 
 would make him groan and weep as he apologized to 
 me for his scornful and disrespectful utterances and 
 at the same time offered me the hand of his daughter. 
 
 When the discovery of the ice-mine, as it grew to 
 be called, became generally known my grounds were 
 crowded by sight-seers, and reporters of newspapers 
 were more plentiful than squirrels. But the latter 
 
108 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 were referred to Burton, who would gladly talk to 
 them as long as they could afford to listen, and I felt 
 myself at last compelled to shut my gates to the first. 
 
 I had offers of capital to develop this novel source 
 of wealth, and I accepted enough of this assistance to 
 enable me to begin operations on a moderate scale. It 
 was considered wise not to uncover any portion of the 
 glacier spur, but to construct an inclined shaft down 
 to its wall-like end, and from this tunnel into the great 
 mass. Immediately the leading ice company of the 
 neighboring town contracted with me for all the ice I 
 could furnish, and the flood-gates of affluence began 
 slowly to rise. 
 
 The earliest, and certainly one of the greatest, 
 benefits which came to me from this bequest from the 
 unhistoric past was the new energy and vigor with 
 which my mind and body were now infused. My old, 
 careless method of life and my recent melancholy, 
 despairing mood were gone, and I now began to employ 
 myself upon the main object of my life with an energy 
 and enthusiasm almost equal to that of my friend Tom 
 Burton. This present object of my life was to pre 
 pare my home for Agnes. 
 
 The great piles of gravel which my men had dug 
 from the well-like pit were spread upon the roadways 
 and rolled smooth and hard; my lawn was mowed; 
 my flower-beds and borders put in order; useless 
 bushes and undergrowth cut out and cleared away; my 
 out-buildings were repaired, and the grounds around 
 my house rapidly assumed their old appearance of 
 neatness and beauty. Ice Avas very scarce that sum 
 mer, and, as the wagons wound away from the opening 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 109 
 
 of the shaft which led down to the glacier, carrying 
 their loads to the nearest railway-station, so money 
 came to me; not in large sums at first, for prepara 
 tions had not yet been perfected for taking out the ice 
 in great quantities, but enough to enable me to go on 
 with my work as rapidly as I could plan it. I set 
 about renovating and brightening and newly furnish 
 ing my house. Whatever I thought that Agnes would 
 like I bought and put into it. I tried to put myself 
 in her place as I selected the paper-hangings and the 
 materials with which to cover the furniture. 
 
 Sometimes, while thus employed selecting orna 
 ments or useful articles for my house, and using as 
 far as was possible the taste and judgment of another 
 instead of my own, the idea came to me that perhaps 
 Agnes had never heard of my miraculous good for 
 tune. Certainly her father would not be likely to 
 inform her, and perhaps she still thought of me, if 
 she thought at all, as the poor young man from whom 
 she had been obliged to part because he was poor. 
 
 But whether she knew that I was growing rich, or 
 whether she thought I was becoming poorer and 
 poorer, I thought only of the day when I could go to 
 her father and tell him that I was able to take his 
 daughter and place her in a home as beautiful as that 
 in which she now lived, and maintain her with all the 
 comforts and luxuries which he could give her. 
 
 One day I asked my faithful cook, who also acted 
 as my housekeeper and general supervisor, to assist 
 me in making out a list of china which I intended to 
 purchase. 
 
 "Are you thinking of buying china, sir?" she 
 
110 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 asked. "We have now quite as much as we really 
 need." 
 
 "Oh, yes/ said I, "I shall get complete sets of 
 everything that can be required for a properly fur 
 nished household." 
 
 Susan gave a little sigh. " You are spendin a lot 
 of money, sir, and some of it for things that a single 
 gentleman would be likely not to care very much 
 about; and if you was to take it into your head to 
 travel and stay away for a year or two, there s a good 
 many things you ve bought that would look shabby 
 when you come back, no matter how careful I might 
 be in dustin. em and keepin em covered." 
 
 " But I have no idea of travelling," said I. " There s 
 no place so pleasant as this to me." 
 
 Susan was silent for a few moments, and then she 
 said : " I know very well why you are doing all this, 
 and I feel it my bounden duty to say to you that 
 there s a chance of its bein no use. I do not speak 
 without good reason, and I would not do it if I didn t 
 think that it might make trouble lighter to you when 
 it comes." 
 
 "What are you talking about, Susan? what do you 
 mean?" 
 
 " Well, sir, this is what I mean : It was only last 
 night that my daughter Jane was in Mr. Havelot s 
 dining-room after dinner was over, and Mr. Havelot 
 and a friend of his were sitting there, smoking their 
 cigars and drinking their coffee. She went in and 
 come out again as she was busy takiii away the 
 dishes, and they paid no attention to her, but went 
 on talkin without knowing, most likely, she was 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 111 
 
 there. Mr. Havelot and the gentleman were talkin 
 about you, and Jane she heard Mr. Havelot say as 
 plain as anything, and she said she couldn t be mis 
 taken, that even if your nonsensical ice-mine proved 
 to be worth anything, he would never let his daughter 
 marry an iceman. He spo ke most disrespectful of 
 icemen, sir, and said that it would make him sick to 
 have a son-in-law whose business it was to sell ice to 
 butchers, and hotels, and grog-shops, and pork-pack 
 ers, and all that sort of people ; and that he would as 
 soon have his daughter marry the man who supplied 
 a hotel with sausages as the one who supplied it with 
 ice to keep those sausages from spoiling. You see, 
 sir, Mr. Havelot lives on his property as his father 
 did before him, and he is a very proud man, with a 
 heart as hard and cold as that ice down under your 
 hand; and it s borne in on me very strong, sir, that 
 it would be a bad thing for you to keep on thinkin 
 that you are gettin this house all ready to bring Miss 
 Havelot to when you have married her. For if Mr. 
 Havelot keeps on livin , which there s every chance 
 of his doin , it may be many a weary year before you 
 get Miss Agnes, if you ever get her. And havin 
 said that, sir, I say no more, and I would not have 
 said this much if I hadn t felt it my bounden duty to 
 your father s son to warn him that most likely he was 
 workin for what he might never get, and so keep 
 him from break in his heart when he found out the 
 truth all of a sudden." 
 
 With that Susan left me, without offering any 
 assistance in making out a list of china. This was 
 a terrible story; but, after all, it was founded only 
 
112 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 upon servants gossip. In this country even proud, 
 rich men like Mr. Havelot did not have such absurd 
 ideas regarding the source of wealth. Money is 
 money, and whether it is derived from the ordinary 
 products of the earth, from which came much of Mr. 
 Havelot s revenue, or from an extraordinary project 
 such as my glacier spur, it truly could not matter so 
 far as concerned the standing in society of its posses 
 sor. What utter absurdity was this which Susan had 
 told me ! If I were to go to Mr. Havelot and tell him 
 that I would not marry his daughter because he sup 
 plied brewers and bakers with the products of his 
 fields, would he not consider me an idiot? I deter 
 mined to pay no attention to the idle tale. But, alas! 
 determinations of that sort are often of little avail. 
 I did pay attention to it, and my spirits drooped. 
 
 The tunnel into the glacier spur had now attained 
 considerable length, and the ice in the interior was 
 found to be of a much finer quality than that first 
 met with, which was of a grayish hue and somewhat 
 inclined to crumble. When the workmen reached a 
 grade of ice as good as they could expect, they began 
 to enlarge the tunnel into a chamber,, and from this 
 they proposed to extend tunnels in various directions 
 after the fashion of a coal-mine. The ice was hauled 
 out on sledges through the tunnel and then carried up 
 a wooden railway to the mouth of the shaft. 
 
 It was comparatively easy to walk down the shaft 
 and enter the tunnel, and when it happened that the 
 men were not at work I allowed visitors to go down 
 and view this wonderful ice-cavern. The walls of 
 the chamber appeared semi-transparent, and the light 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 113 
 
 of the candles or lanterns gave the whole scene a 
 weird and beautiful aspect. It was almost possible 
 to imagine oneself surrounded by limpid waters, 
 which might at any moment rush upon him and en 
 gulf him. 
 
 Every day or two Tom Burton came with a party 
 of scientific visitors, and had I chosen to stop the 
 work of taking out ice, admitted the public and 
 charged a price for admission, I might have made 
 almost as much money as I at that time derived from 
 the sale of the ice. But such a method of profit was 
 repugnant to me. 
 
 For several days after Susan s communication to 
 me, I worked on in my various operations, endeavor 
 ing to banish from my mind the idle nonsense she 
 had spoken of; but one of its effects upon me was to 
 make me feel that I ought not to allow hopes so im 
 portant to rest upon uncertainties. So I determined 
 that as soon as my house and grounds should be in a 
 condition with which I should for the time be satis 
 fied, I would go boldly to Mr. Havelot, and, casting 
 out of my recollection everything that Susan had said, 
 invite him to visit me and see for himself the results 
 of the discovery of which he had spoken with sucli 
 derisive contempt. This would be a straightforward 
 and business-like answer to his foolish objections to 
 me, and I believed that in his heart the old gentleman 
 would properly appreciate my action. 
 
 About this time there came to my place Aaron 
 Boyce, an elderly farmer of the neighborhood, and, 
 finding me outside, he seized the opportunity to have 
 a chat with me. 
 
114 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 "I tell you what it is, Mr. Cuthbert," said he, 
 "the people in this neighborhood hasn t give you 
 credit for what s in you. The way you have fixed up 
 this place, and the short time you have took to do it, 
 is enough to show us now what sort of a man you are ; 
 and I tell you, sir, we re proud of you for a neighbor. 
 I don t believe there s another gentleman in this 
 county of your age that could have done what you 
 have done in so short a time. I expect now you will 
 be thinking of getting married and startin house- 
 keepin in a regular fashion. That comes just as 
 natural as to set hens in the spring. By the way, 
 have you heard that old Mr. Havelot s thinkin of 
 goin abroad? I didn t believe he would ever do that 
 again, because he s gettin pretty well on in years, 
 but old men will do queer things as well as young 
 ones." 
 
 " Going abroad! " I cried. "Does he intend to take 
 his daughter with him?" 
 
 Mr. Aaron Boyce smiled grimly. He was a great 
 old gossip, and he had already obtained the infor 
 mation he wanted. "Yes," he said, "I ve heard it 
 was on her account he s going. She s been kind of 
 weakly lately, they tell me, and hasn t took to her 
 food, and the doctors has said that what she wants is 
 a sea-voyage and a change to foreign parts." 
 
 Going abroad! Foreign parts! This was more 
 terrible than anything I had imagined. I would go 
 to Mr. Havelot that very evening, the only time which 
 I would be certain to find him at home, and talk to 
 him in a way which would be sure to bring him to his 
 senses, if he had any. And if I should find that he 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 115 
 
 had no sense of propriety or justice, no sense of his 
 duty to his fellow-man and to his offspring, then I 
 would begin a bold fight for Agnes, a fight which I 
 would not give up until, with her own lips, she told 
 me that it would be useless. I would follow her to 
 Kentucky, to Europe, to the uttermost ends of the 
 earth. I could do it now. The frozen deposits in my 
 terminal moraine would furnish me with the means. 
 I walked away and left the old farmer standing grin 
 ning. No doubt my improvements and renovations 
 had been the subject of gossip in the neighborhood, 
 and he had come over to see if he could find out any 
 thing definite in regard to the object of them. He 
 had succeeded, but he had done more : he had nerved 
 me to instantly begin the conquest of Agnes, whether 
 by diplomacy or war. 
 
 I was so anxious to begin this conquest that I could 
 scarcely wait for the evening to come. At the noon- 
 hour, when the ice-works were deserted, I walked 
 down the shaft and into the ice-chamber to see what 
 had been done since my last visit. I decided to insist 
 that operations upon a larger scale should be imme 
 diately begun, in order that I might have plenty of 
 money with which to carry on my contemplated cam 
 paign. Whether it was one of peace or war, I should 
 want all the money I could get. 
 
 I took with me a lantern and went around the cham 
 ber, which was now twenty-five or thirty feet in 
 diameter, examining the new inroads which had been 
 made upon its walls. There was a tunnel commenced 
 opposite the one by which the chamber was entered, 
 but it had not been opened more than a dozen feet, 
 
116 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 and it seemed to me that the men had not been work 
 ing with any very great energy. I wanted to see a 
 Continuous stream of ice-blocks from that chamber to 
 the mouth of the shaft. 
 
 While grumbling thus I heard behind me a sudden 
 noise like thunder and the crashing of walls, and, 
 turning quickly, I saw that a portion of the roof of 
 the chamber had fallen in. Nor had it ceased to fall. 
 As I gazed several great masses of ice came down from 
 above and piled themselves upon that which had 
 already fallen. 
 
 Startled and frightened, I sprang toward the open 
 ing of the entrance tunnel; but, alas! I found that 
 that was the point where the roof had given away, 
 and between me and the outer world was a wall of 
 solid ice through which it would be as impossible for 
 me to break as if it were a barrier of rock. With the 
 quick instinct which comes to men in danger I glanced 
 about to see if the workmen had left their tools ; but 
 there were none. They had been taken outside. 
 Then I stood and gazed stupidly at the mass of fallen 
 ice, which, even as I looked upon it, was cracking and 
 snapping, pressed down by the weight above it, and 
 forming itself into an impervious barrier without 
 crevice or open seam. 
 
 Then I madly shouted. But of what avail were 
 shouts down there in the depths of the earth? I soon 
 ceased this useless expenditure of strength, and, with 
 my lantern in my hand, began to walk around the 
 chamber, throwing the light upon the walls and the 
 roof. I became impressed with the fear that the whole 
 cavity might cave in at once and bury me here in a 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 117 
 
 tomb of ice. But I saw no cracks, nor any sign of 
 further disaster. But why think of anything more? 
 Was not this enough? For, before that ice-barrier 
 could be cleared away, would I not freeze to death? 
 
 I now continued to walk, not because I expected 
 to find anything or do anything, but simply to keep 
 myself warm by action. As long as I could move 
 about I believed that there was no immediate danger 
 of succumbing to the intense cold ; for, when a young 
 man, travelling in Switzerland, I had been in the cave 
 of a glacier, and it was not cold enough to prevent 
 some old women from sitting there to play the zither 
 for the sake of a few coppers from visitors. I could 
 not expect to be able to continue walking until I should 
 be rescued, and if I sat down, or by chance slept from 
 exhaustion, I must perish. 
 
 The more I thought of it, the more sure I became 
 that in any case I must perish. A man in a block of 
 ice could have no chance of life. And Agnes ! Oh, 
 Heavens ! what demon of the ice had leagued with old 
 Havelot to shut me up in this frozen prison? For a 
 long time I continued to walk, beat my body with my 
 arms, and stamp my feet. The instinct of life was 
 strong within me. I would live as long as I could, 
 and think of Agnes. When I should be frozen I could 
 not think of her. 
 
 Sometimes I stopped and listened. I was sure I 
 could hear noises, but I could not tell whether they 
 were above me or not. In the centre of the ice- 
 barrier, about four feet from the ground, was a vast 
 block of the frozen substance which was unusually 
 clear and seemed to have nothing on the other side of 
 
118 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 it; for through it I could see flickers of light, as 
 though people were going about with lanterns. It 
 was quite certain that the accident had been discov 
 ered; for, had not the thundering noise been heard by 
 persons outside, the workmen would have seen what 
 had happened as soon as they came into the tunnel to 
 begin their afternoon operations. 
 
 At first I wondered why they did not set to work 
 with a will and cut away this barrier and let me out. 
 But there suddenly came to my mind a reason for this 
 lack of energy which was more chilling than the 
 glistening walls around me : Why should they suppose 
 that I was in the ice-chamber? I was not in the habit 
 of coming here very often, but I was in the habit of 
 wandering off by myself at all hours of the day. This 
 thought made me feel that I might as well lie down 
 on the floor of this awful cave and die at once. The 
 workmen might think it unsafe to mine any further 
 in this part of the glacier, and begin operations at 
 some other point. I did sit down for a moment, and 
 then I rose involuntarily and began my weary round. 
 Suddenly I thought of looking at my watch. It was 
 nearly five o clock. I had been more than four hours 
 in that dreadful place, and I did not believe that I 
 could continue to exercise my limbs very much longer. 
 The lights I had seen had ceased. It was quite plain 
 that the workmen had no idea that any one was im 
 prisoned in the cave. 
 
 But soon after I had come to this conclusion I saw 
 through the clear block of ice a speck of light, and it 
 became stronger and stronger, until I believed it to be 
 close to the other side of the block. There it remained 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 119 
 
 stationary; but tliGre seemed to be other points of 
 light which moved about in a strange way, and near 
 it. Now I stood by the block watching. When my 
 feet became very cold, I stamped them; but there I 
 stood fascinated, for what I saw was truly surprising. 
 A large coal of tire appeared on the other side of the 
 block; then it suddenly vanished and was succeeded 
 by another coal. This disappeared, and another took 
 its place, each one seeming to come nearer and nearer 
 to me. Again and again did these coals appear. They 
 reached the centre of the block; they approached my 
 side of it. At last one was so near to me that I 
 thought it was about to break through, but it van 
 ished. Then there came a few quick thuds and the 
 end of a piece of iron protruded from the block. This 
 was withdrawn, and through the aperture there came 
 a voice which said : " Mr. Cuthbert, are you in there? " 
 It was the voice of Agnes ! 
 
 Weak and cold as I was, fire and energy rushed 
 through me at these words. "Yes," I exclaimed, my 
 mouth to the hole; "Agnes, is that you?" 
 
 "Wait a minute," came from the other side of the 
 aperture. "I must make it bigger. I must keep it 
 from closing up." 
 
 Again came the coals of fire, running backward and 
 forward through the long hole in the block of ice. I 
 could see now what they were. They were irons used 
 by plumbers for melting solder and that sort of thing, 
 and Agnes was probably heating them in a little fur 
 nace outside, and withdrawing them as fast as they 
 cooled. It was not long before the aperture was very 
 much enlarged; and then there came grating through 
 
120 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 it a long tin tube nearly two inches in diameter, which 
 almost, but not quite, reached my side of the block. 
 
 Now came again the voice of Agnes : " Oh, Mr. 
 Cuthbert, are you truly there? Are you crushed? 
 Are you wounded? Are you nearly frozen? Are you 
 starved? Tell me quickly if you are yet safe." 
 
 Had I stood in a palace padded with the softest silk 
 and filled with spicy odors from a thousand rose- 
 gardens, I could not have been better satisfied with 
 my surroundings than I was at that moment. Agnes 
 was not two feet away ! She Avas telling me that she 
 cared for me ! In a very few words I assured her that 
 I was uninjured. Then I Avas on the point of telling 
 her I loved her, for I believed that not a moment 
 should be lost in making this avoAval. I could not die 
 \vithout her knoAving that. But the appearance of a 
 mass of paper at the other end of the tube prevented 
 the expression of my sentiments. This was sloAvly 
 pushed on until I could reach it. Then there came 
 the Avords: "Mr. Cuthbert, these are sandAviches. 
 Eat them immediately and Avalk about while you are 
 doing it. You must keep yourself Avarni until the 
 men get to you." 
 
 Obedient to the slightest wish of this dear creature, 
 I went tAvice around the cave, devouring the sandwiches 
 as I Avalked. They Avere the most delicious food that 
 I had ever tasted. They AA r ere given to me by Agnes. 
 I came back to the opening. I could not immediately 
 begin my avowal. I must ask a question first. "Can 
 they get to me? " I inquired. " Is anybody trying to 
 do that? Arc they working there by you? I do not 
 hear them at all." 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 121 
 
 "Oh, no," she answered; "they are not working 
 here. They are on top of the bluff, trying to dig down 
 to you. They were afraid to meddle with the ice here 
 for fear that more of it might come down and crush 
 you and the men, too. Oh, there has been a dread 
 ful excitement since it was found that you were in 
 there!" 
 
 " How could they know I was here ? " I asked. 
 
 "It was your old Susan who first thought of it. 
 She saw you walking toward the shaft about noon, 
 and then she remembered that she had not seen you 
 again; and when they came into the tunnel here they 
 found one of the lanterns gone and the big stick you 
 generally carry lying where the lantern had been. 
 Then it was known that you must be inside. Oh, 
 then there was an awful time ! The foreman of the 
 icemen examined everything, and said they must dig 
 down to you from above. He put his men to work; 
 but they could do very little, for they had hardly any 
 spades. Then they sent into town for help and over 
 to the new park for the Italians working there. From 
 the way these men set to work you might have thought 
 that they would dig away the whole bluff in about five 
 minutes; but they didn t. ISTobody seemed to know 
 what to do, or how to get to work; and the hole they 
 made when they did begin was filled up with men 
 almost as fast as they threw out the stones and gravel. 
 I don t believe anything would have been done properly 
 if your friend, Mr. Burton, hadn t happened to come 
 with two scientific gentlemen, and since that he has 
 been directing everything. You can t think what a 
 splendid fellow he is ! I fairly adored him when I 
 
122 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 saw him giving his orders and making everybody skip 
 around in the right way. 5 
 
 "Tom is a very good man/ said I; "but it is his 
 business to direct that sort of work, and it is not sur 
 prising that he knows how to do it. But, Agnes, they 
 may never get down to me, and we do not know that 
 this roof may not cave in upon me at any moment; 
 and before this or anything else happens I want to tell 
 you-" 
 
 "Mr. Cuthbert," said Agnes, "is there plenty of oil 
 in your lantern? It would be dreadful if it were to 
 go out and leave you there in the dark. I thought of 
 that and brought you a little bottle of kerosene so that 
 you can fill it. I am going to push the bottle through 
 now, if you please." And with this a large phial, 
 cork-end foremost, came slowly through the tube, pro 
 pelled by one of the soldering-irons. Then came 
 Agnes s voice: "Please fill your lantern immediately, 
 because if it goes out you cannot find it in the dark; 
 and then walk several times around the cave, for you 
 have been standing still too long already." 
 
 I obeyed these injunctions, but in two or three 
 minutes was again at the end of the tube. "Agnes," 
 said I, " how did you happen to come here? Did you 
 contrive in your own mind this method of communi 
 cating with me? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; I did," she said. "Everybody said that 
 this mass of ice must not be meddled with, but I knew 
 very well it would not hurt it to make a hole through 
 it." 
 
 "But how did you happen to be here?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, I ran over as soon as I heard of the accident. 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 123 
 
 Everybody ran here. The whole neighborhood is on 
 top of the bluff; but nobody wanted to come into the 
 tunnel, because they were afraid that more of it might 
 fall in. So I was able to work here all by myself, 
 and I am very glad of it. I saw the soldering-iron 
 and the little furnace outside of your house where the 
 plumbers had been using them, and I brought them 
 here myself. Then I thought that a simple hole 
 through the ice might soon freeze up again, and if you 
 were alive inside I could not do anything to help you; 
 and so I ran home and got my diploma-case, that had 
 had one end melted out of it, and I brought that to 
 stick in the hole. I m so glad that it is long enough, 
 or almost." 
 
 "Oh, Agnes," I cried, "you thought of all this for 
 me?" 
 
 "Why, of course, Mr. Cuthbert," she answered, 
 before I had a chance to say anything more. " You 
 were in great danger of perishing before the men got 
 to you, and nobody seemed to think of any way to 
 give you immediate relief. And don t you think that 
 a collegiate education is a good thing for girls at 
 least, that it was for me?" 
 
 "Agnes," I exclaimed; "please let me speak. I 
 want to tell you, I must tell you " 
 
 But the voice of Agnes was clearer than mine and 
 it overpowered my words. "Mr. Cuthbert," she said, 
 "we cannot both speak through this tube at the same 
 time in opposite directions. I have here a bottle of 
 water for you, but I am very much afraid it will not 
 go through the diploma-case." 
 
 "Oh, I don t want any water," I said. "I can 
 
124 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 eat ice if I am thirsty. What I want is to tell 
 you " 
 
 " Mr. Cuthbert, " said she, " you must not eat that 
 ice. Water that was frozen countless ages ago may 
 be very different from the water of modern times, and 
 might not agree with you. Don t touch it, please. I 
 am going to push the bottle through if I can. I tried 
 to think of everything that you might need and 
 brought them all at once ; because, if I could not keep 
 the hole open, I wanted to get them to you without 
 losing a minute." 
 
 Now the bottle came slowly through. It was a 
 small beer-bottle, I think, and several times I was 
 afraid it was going to stick fast and cut off communi 
 cation between me and the outer world ; that is to say, 
 between me and Agnes. But at last the cork and the 
 neck appeared, and I pulled it through. I did not 
 drink any of it, but immediately applied my mouth 
 to the tube. 
 
 "Agnes," I said; "my dear Agnes, really you must 
 not prevent me from speaking. I cannot delay another 
 minute. This is an awful position for me to be in, 
 and as you don t seem to realize " 
 
 " But I do realize, Mr. Cuthbert, that if you don t 
 walk about you will certainly freeze before you can be 
 rescued. Between every two or three words you want 
 to take at least one turn around that place. How 
 dreadful it would be if you were suddenly to become 
 benumbed and stiff! Everybody is thinking of that. 
 The best diggers that Mr. Burton had were three 
 colored men; but after they had gone down nothing 
 like as deep as a well, they came up frightened and 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 125 
 
 said they would not dig another shovelful for the 
 whole world. Perhaps you don t know it, but there s 
 a story about the neighborhood that the negro hell is 
 under your property. You know many of the colored 
 people expect to be everlastingly punished with ice 
 and not with fire " 
 
 "Agnes," I interrupted, "I am punished with ice 
 and fire both. Please let me tell you " 
 
 "I was going on to say, Mr. Cuthbert," she inter 
 rupted, " that when the Italians heard why the colored 
 men had come out of the hole they would not go in 
 either, for they are just as afraid of everlasting ice as the 
 negroes are, and were sure that if the bottom came out 
 of that hole they would fall into a frozen lower world. 
 So there was nothing to do but to send for paupers, 
 and they are working now. You know paupers have 
 to do what they are told without regard to their 
 beliefs. They got a dozen of them from the poor- 
 house. Somebody said they just threw them into the 
 hole. Now I must stop talking, for it is time for 
 you to walk around again. Would you like another 
 sandwich?" 
 
 " Agnes, " said I, endeavoring to speak calmly, " all 
 I want is to be able to tell you " 
 
 " And when you walk, Mr. Cuthbert, you had better 
 keep around the edge of the chamber, for there is no 
 knowing when they may come through. Mr. Burton 
 and the foreman of the icemen measured the bluff so 
 that they say the hole they are making is exactly over 
 the middle of the chamber you are in, and if you walk 
 around the edge the pieces may not fall on you." 
 
 "If you don t listen to me, Agnes," I said, "I ll 
 
126 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 go and sit anywhere, everywhere, where death may 
 come to me quickest. Your coldness is worse than 
 the coldness of the cave. I cannot bear it. " 
 
 "But, Mr. Cuthbert," said Agnes, speaking, I 
 thought, with some agitation, " I have been listening 
 to you, and what more can you possibly have to say ? 
 If there is anything you want, let me know. I will 
 run and get it for you." 
 
 " There is no need that you should go away to get 
 what I want, " I said. " It is there with you. It is 
 you." 
 
 " Mr. Cuthbert, " said Agnes, in a very low voice, 
 but so distinctly that I could hear every word, " don t 
 you think it would be better for you to give your 
 whole mind to keeping yourself warm and strong? 
 For if you let yourself get benumbed you may sink 
 down and freeze." 
 
 " Agnes, " I said, " I will not move from this little 
 hole until I have told you that I love you, that I have 
 no reason to care for life or rescue unless you return 
 my love, unless you are willing to be mine. Speak 
 quickly to me, Agnes, because I may not be rescued 
 and may never know whether my love for you is 
 returned or not." 
 
 At this moment there was a tremendous crash 
 behind me, and, turning, I saw a mass of broken ice 
 upon the floor of the cave, with a cloud of dust and 
 smaller fragments still falling. And then with a 
 great scratching and scraping, and a howl loud 
 enough to waken the echoes of all the lower regions, 
 down came a red-headed, drunken shoemaker. I can 
 not say that he was drunk at that moment, but I 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 127 
 
 knew the man the moment I saw his carroty poll, and 
 it was drink which had sent him to the poorhouse. 
 
 But the sprawling and howling cobbler did not 
 reach the floor. A rope had been fastened around 
 his Avaist to prevent a fall in case the bottom of the 
 pit should suddenly give way, and he hung dangling 
 in mid-air with white face and distended eyes, curs 
 ing and swearing and vociferously entreating to be 
 pulled up. But before he received any answer from 
 above, or I could speak to him, there came through 
 the hole in the roof of the cave a shower of stones and 
 gravel, and with them a frantic Italian, his legs and 
 arms outspread, his face wild with terror. 
 
 Just as he appeared in view he grasped the rope of 
 the cobbler, and, though in a moment he came down 
 heavily upon the floor of the chamber, this broke his 
 fall, and he did not appear to be hurt. Instantly he 
 crouched low and almost upon all fours, and began to 
 run around the chamber, keeping close to the walls 
 and screaming, I suppose, to his saints to preserve 
 him from the torments of the frozen damned. 
 
 In the midst of this hubbub came the voice of 
 Agnes through the hole : " Oh, Mr. Cuthbert, what has 
 happened? Are you alive? " 
 
 I was so disappointed by the appearance of these 
 wretched interlopers at the moment it was about to 
 be decided whether my life should it last for years, 
 or but for a few minutes was to be black or bright, 
 and I was so shaken and startled by the manner of 
 their entry upon the scene, that I could not immedi 
 ately shape the words necessary to inform Agnes what 
 had happened. But, collecting my faculties, I was 
 
128 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 about to speak, when suddenly, with the force of the 
 hind leg of a mule, I was pushed away from the aper 
 ture, and the demoniac Italian clapped his great mouth 
 to the end of the tube and roared through it a volume 
 of oaths and supplications. I attempted to thrust 
 aside the wretched being, but I might as well have 
 tried to move the ice-barrier itself. He had perceived 
 that some one outside was talking to me, and in his 
 frenzy he was imploring that some one should let him 
 out. 
 
 While still endeavoring to move the man, I was 
 seized by the arm, and turning, beheld the pallid face 
 of the shoemaker. They had let him down so that 
 he reached the floor. He tried to fall on his knees 
 before me, but the rope was so short that he was able 
 to go only part of the way down, and presented a most 
 ludicrous appearance, with his toes scraping the icy 
 floor and his arms thrown out as if he were paddling 
 like a tadpole. "Oh, have mercy upon me, sir," he 
 said, "and help me get out of this dreadful place. 
 If you go to the hole and call up it s you, they will 
 pull me up ; but if they get you out first they will 
 never think of me. I am a poor pauper, sir, but I 
 never did nothin to be packed in ice before I am 
 dead." 
 
 Noticing that the Italian had left the end of the 
 aperture in the block of ice, and that he was now 
 shouting up the open shaft, I ran to the channel of 
 communication which my Agnes had opened for me, 
 and called through it; but the dear girl had gone. 
 
 The end of a ladder now appeared at the opening in 
 the roof; and this was let down until it reached the 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 129 
 
 floor. I started toward it, but before I had gone half 
 the distance the frightened shoemaker and the maniac 
 Italian sprang upon it, and, with shrieks and oaths, 
 began a maddening fight for possession of the ladder. 
 They might quickly have gone up one after the other, 
 but each had no thought but to be first; and as one 
 seized the rounds he was pulled away by the other, 
 until I feared the ladder would be torn to pieces. 
 The shoemaker finally pushed his way up a little dis 
 tance, when the Italian sprang upon his back, endeav 
 oring to climb over him; and so on they went up the 
 shaft, fighting, swearing, kicking, scratching, shak 
 ing and wrenching the ladder, which had been tied to 
 another one in order to increase its length, so that it 
 was in danger of breaking, and tearing at each other 
 in a fashion which made it wonderful that they did 
 not both tumble headlong downward. They went on 
 up, so completely filling the shaft with their strug 
 gling forms and their wild cries that I could not see 
 or hear anything, and was afraid, in fact, to look up 
 toward the outer air. 
 
 As I was afterward informed, the Italian, who had 
 slipped into the hole by accident, ran away like a 
 frightened hare the moment he got his feet on firm 
 ground, and the shoemaker sat down and swooned. 
 By this performance he obtained from a benevolent 
 bystander a drink of whiskey, the first he had had 
 since he was committed to the poorhouse. 
 
 But a voice soon came clown the shaft calling to me. 
 I recognized it as that of Tom Burton, and replied 
 that I was safe, and that I was coming up the ladder. 
 But in my attempt to climb, I found that I was unable 
 
130 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 to do so. Chilled and stiffened by the cold and 
 weakened by fatigue and excitement, I believe I never 
 should have been able to leave that ice-chamber if iny 
 faithful friend had not come down the ladder and 
 vigorously assisted me to reach the outer air. 
 
 Seated on the ground, my back against a great oak- 
 tree, I was quickly surrounded by a crowd of my 
 neighbors, the workmen, and the people who had been 
 drawn to the spot by the news of the strange- accident 
 to gaze at me as if I were some unknown being 
 excavated from the bowels of the earth. I was sip 
 ping some brandy-and-water which Burton had handed 
 me, when Aaron Boyce pushed himself in front of me. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, "I am mighty glad you got out 
 of that scrape. I m bound to say I didn t expect you 
 would. I have been sure all along that it wasn t right 
 to meddle with things that go agin Nature, and I 
 haven t any doubt that you ll see that for yourself and 
 fill up all them tunnels and shafts you ve made. The 
 ice that comes on ponds and rivers was good enough 
 for our forefathers, and it ought to be good enough for 
 us. And as for this cold stuff you find in your gravel- 
 pit, I don t believe it s ice at all; and if it is, like as 
 not it s made of some sort of pizen stuff that freezes 
 easier than water. For everybody knows that water 
 don t freeze in a well, and if it don t do that, why 
 should it do it in any kind of a hole in the ground? 
 So perhaps it s just as well that you did git shut up 
 there, sir, and find out for yourself what a dangerous 
 thing it is to fool with Nature and try to git ice from 
 the bottom of the ground instead of the top of the 
 water." 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 131 
 
 This speech made me angry, for I knew that old 
 Boyce was a man who was always glad to get hold of 
 anything which had gone wrong and to try to make it 
 worse; but I was too weak to answer him. 
 
 This, however, would not have been necessary, for 
 Tom Burton turned upon him. "Idiot," said he, "if 
 that is your way of thinking you might as well say 
 that if a well caves in you should never again dig for 
 water, or that nobody should have a cellar under his 
 house for fear that the house should fall into it. 
 There s no more danger of the ice beneath us ever 
 giving way again than there is that this bluff should 
 crumble under our feet. That break in the roof of 
 the ice-tunnel was caused by my digging away the 
 face of the bluff very near that spot. The high tem 
 perature of the outer air weakened the ice, and it fell. 
 But down here, under this ground and secure from the 
 influences of the heat of the outer air, the mass of ice 
 is more solid than rock. We will build a brick arch 
 over the place where the accident happened, and then 
 there will not be a safer mine on this continent than 
 this ice-mine will be." 
 
 This was a wise and diplomatic speech from Burton, 
 and it proved to be of great service to me ; for the men 
 who had been taking out ice had been a good deal 
 frightened by the fall of the tunnel, and when it was 
 proved that what Burton had said in regard to the 
 cause of the weakening of the ice was entirely correct, 
 they became willing to go to work again. 
 
 I now began to feel stronger and better, and, rising 
 to my feet, I glanced here and there into the crowd, 
 hoping to catch a sight of Agnes. But I was not very 
 
132 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 much surprised at not seeing her, because she would 
 naturally shrink from forcing herself into the midst 
 of this motley company ; but I felt that I must go and 
 look for her without the loss of a minute, for if she 
 should return to her father s house I might not be able 
 to see her again. 
 
 On the outskirts of the crowd I met Susan, who was 
 almost overpowered with joy at seeing me safe again. 
 I shook her by the hand, but, without replying to her 
 warm-hearted protestations of thankfulness and de 
 light, I asked her if she had seen Miss Havelot. 
 
 "Miss Agnes!" she exclaimed. "Why, no, sir; I 
 expect she s at home; and if she did come here with 
 the rest of the neighbors I didn t see her; for when I 
 found out what had happened, sir, I was so weak that 
 I sat down in the kitchen all of a lump, and have just 
 had strength enough to come out." 
 
 " Oh, I know she was here, " I cried ; " I am sure of 
 that, and I do hope she s not gone home again." 
 
 " Know she was here ! " exclaimed Susan. " Why, 
 how on earth could you know that?" 
 
 I did not reply that it was not on the earth but 
 under it that I became aware of the fact, but hurried 
 toward the Havelot house, hoping to overtake Agnes 
 if she had gone that way. But I did not see her, and 
 suddenly a startling idea struck me, and I turned and 
 ran home as fast as I could go. When I reached my 
 grounds I went directly to the mouth of the shaft. 
 There was nobody there, for the crowd was collected 
 into a solid mass on the top of the bluff, listening to 
 a lecture from Tom Burton, who deemed it well to 
 promote the growth of interest and healthy opinion in 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 133 
 
 regard to his wonderful discovery and my valuable 
 possession. I hurried down the shaft, and near the 
 end of it, just before it joined the ice-tunnel, I beheld 
 Agnes sitting upon the wooden track. She was not 
 unconscious, for as I approached she slightly turned 
 her head. I sprang toward her ; I kneeled beside her ; 
 I took her in my arms. " Oh, Agnes, dearest Agnes," 
 I cried, "what is the matter? What has happened to 
 you? Has a piece of ice fallen upon you? Have you 
 slipped and hurt yourself? " 
 
 She turned her beautiful eyes up toward me and for 
 a moment did not speak. Then she said : " And they 
 got you out? And you are in your right mind? " 
 
 " Right mind ! " I exclaimed. " I have never been 
 out of my mind. What are you thinking of? " 
 
 "Oh, you must have been," she said; "when you 
 screamed at me in that horrible way. I was so fright 
 ened that I fell back, and I must have fainted. " 
 
 Tremulous as I was with love and anxiety, I could 
 not help laughing. " Oh, my dear Agnes, I did not 
 scream at you. That was a crazed Italian who fell 
 through the hole that they dug." Then I told her 
 what had happened. 
 
 She heaved a gentle sigh. "I am so glad to hear 
 that," she said. "There was one thing that I was 
 thinking about just before you came and which gave 
 me a little bit of comfort : the words and yells I heard 
 were dreadfully oniony, and somehow or other I could 
 not connect that sort of thing with you." 
 
 It now struck me that during this conversation I 
 had been holding my dear girl in my arms, and she 
 had not shown the slightest sign of resistance or dis- 
 
134 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 approbation. This made my heart beat high. " Oh, 
 Agnes, " I said, " I truly believe you love me or you 
 would not have been here, you would not have done 
 for me all that you did. Why did you not answer me 
 when I spoke to you through that wall of ice, through 
 the hole your dear love had made in it? Why, when 
 I was in such a terrible situation, not knowing whether 
 I was to die or live, did you not comfort my heart with 
 one sweet word? " 
 
 "Oh, Walter/ she answered, "it wasn t at all nec 
 essary for you to say all that you did say, for I had 
 suspected it before, and as soon as you began to call 
 me Agnes I knew, of course, how you felt about it. 
 And, besides, it really was necessary that you should 
 move about to keep yourself from freezing. But the 
 great reason for my not encouraging you to go on talk 
 ing in that way was that I was afraid people might 
 come into the tunnel, and as, of course, you would not 
 know that they were there, you would go on making 
 love to me through my diploma-case, and you know I 
 should have perished with shame if I had had to stand 
 there with that old Mr. Boyce, and I don t know who 
 else, listening to your words, which were very sweet 
 to me, Walter, but which would have sounded awfully 
 funny to them." 
 
 When she said that my words had been sweet to her 
 I dropped the consideration of all other subjects. 
 
 When, about ten minutes afterward, we came out of 
 the shaft we were met by Susan. 
 
 " Bless my soul and body, Mr. Cuthbert ! " she ex 
 claimed. " Did you find that young lady down there 
 in the centre of the earth? It seems to me as if 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 135 
 
 everything that you want comes to you out of the 
 ground. But I have been looking for you to tell you 
 that Mr. Havelot has been here after his daughter, 
 and I m sure if he had known where she was, he would 
 have been scared out of his wits." 
 
 " Father here ! " exclaimed Agnes. " Where is he 
 now?" 
 
 " I think he has gone home, miss. Indeed I m sure 
 of it ; for my daughter Jennie, who was over here the 
 same as all the other people in the county, I truly 
 believe told him and I was proud she had the spirit 
 to speak up that way to him that your heart was 
 almost broke when you heard about Mr. Cuthbert 
 being shut up in the ice, and that most likely you was 
 in your own room a-cryin your eyes out. When he 
 heard that he stood lookin all around the place, and 
 then he asked me if he might go in the house; and 
 when I told him he was most welcome, he went in. I 
 offered to show him about, which he said was no use, 
 that he had been there often enough; and he went 
 everywhere, I truly believe, except in the garret and 
 the cellar. And after he got through with that he 
 went out to the barn and then walked home." 
 
 "I must go to him immediately," said Agnes. 
 
 "But not alone," said I. And together we walked 
 through the woods, over the little field and across the 
 Havelot lawn to the house. We were told that the 
 old gentleman was in his library, and together we 
 entered the room. 
 
 Mr. Havelot was sitting by a table on which were 
 lying several open volumes of an encyclopedia. 
 When he turned and saw us ; he closed his book, 
 
136 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 pushed back his chair, and took off his spectacles. 
 "Upon my word, sir," he cried; "and so the first 
 thing you do after they pull you out of the earth is to 
 come here and break my commands." 
 
 "I came on the invitation of your daughter, sir." 
 
 " And what right has she to invite you, I d like to 
 know?" 
 
 " She has every right, for to her I owe my existence." 
 
 "What rabid nonsense! " exclaimed the old gentle 
 man. " People don t owe their existence to the silly 
 creatures they fall in love with." 
 
 "I assure I am correct, sir." And then I related 
 to him what his daughter had done, and how through 
 her angelic agency my rescuers had found me a living 
 being instead of a frozen corpse. 
 
 "Stuff! " said Mr. Havelot. "People can live in a 
 temperature of thirty -two degrees above zero all win 
 ter. Out in Minnesota they think that s hot. And 
 you gave him victuals and drink through your diploma- 
 case! Well, miss, I told you that if you tried to 
 roast chestnuts in that diploma-case the bottom would 
 come out." 
 
 "But you see, father," said Agnes, earnestly, "the 
 reason I did that was because when I roasted them in 
 anything shallow they popped into the fire, but they 
 could not jump out of the diploma-case." 
 
 " Well, something else seems to have jumped out of 
 it," said the old gentleman; "and something with 
 which I am not satisfied. I have been looking over 
 these books, sir, and have read the articles on ice, 
 glaciers, and caves, and I find no record of anything 
 in the whole history of the world which in the least 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 137 
 
 resembles the cock-and-bull story I am told about tlie 
 butt-end of a glacier which tumbled into a cave in 
 your ground, and has been lying there through all the 
 geological ages, and the eras of formation, and peri 
 ods of animate existence down to the days of Noah, 
 and Moses, and Methuselah, and Barneses II., and 
 Alexander the Great, and Martin Luther, and John 
 Wesley to this day, for you to dig out and sell to the 
 Williamstown Ice Company." 
 
 "But that s what happened, sir," said I. 
 
 "And besides, father," added Agnes, "the gold and 
 silver that people take out of mines may have been 
 in the ground as long as that ice has been." 
 
 " Bosh ! " said Mr. Havelot. " The cases are not at 
 all similar. It is simply impossible that a piece of a 
 glacier should have fallen into a cave and been pre 
 served in that way. The temperature of caves is 
 always above the freezing-point, and that ice would 
 have melted a million years before you were born." 
 
 "But, father," said Agnes, "the temperature of 
 caves filled with ice must be very much lower than 
 that of common caves." 
 
 "And apart from that," I added, "the ice is still 
 there, sir." 
 
 "That doesn t make the slightest difference," he 
 replied. "It s against all reason and common-sense 
 that such a thing could have happened. Even if 
 there ever was a glacier in this part of the country, 
 and if the lower portion of it did stick out over 
 an immense hole in the ground, that protruding end 
 would never have broken off and tumbled in. Gla 
 ciers are too thick and massive for that." 
 
138 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 "But the glacier is there, sir," said I, in spite of 
 your own reasoning. J? 
 
 "And then again," continued the old gentleman, 
 " if there had been a cave and a projecting spur the 
 ice would have gradually melted and dripped into 
 the cave, and we would have had a lake and not an 
 ice-mine. It is a perfect absurdity." 
 
 "But it s there, notwithstanding," said I. 
 
 " And you cannot subvert facts, you know, father, " 
 added Agnes. 
 
 " Confound facts ! " he cried. " I base my argu 
 ments on sober, cool-headed reason; and there s noth 
 ing that can withstand reason. The thing s impossible 
 and, therefore, it has never happened. I went over 
 to your place, sir, when I heard of the accident, for 
 the misfortunes of my neighbors interest me, no mat 
 ter what may be my opinion of them, and when I 
 found that you had been extricated from your ridic 
 ulous predicament, I went through your house, and I 
 Avas pleased to find it in as good or better condition 
 than I had known it in the days of your respected 
 father. I was glad to see the improvement in your 
 circumstances; but when I am told, sir, that your 
 apparent prosperity rests upon such an absurdity as a 
 glacier in a gravel-hill, I can but smile with con 
 tempt, sir." 
 
 I was getting a little tired of this. " But the gla 
 cier is there, sir," I said, "and I am taking out ice 
 every day, and have reason to believe that I can con 
 tinue to take it out for the rest of my life. With 
 such facts as these before me, I am bound to say, sir, 
 that I don t care in the least about reason," 
 
MY TERMINAL MORAINE 139 
 
 And I am here, father/ 7 said Agnes, coming close 
 to me, " and here I want to continue for the rest of 
 my days." 
 
 The old gentleman looked at her. "And, I sup 
 pose," he said, "that you, too, don t in the least care 
 about reason?" 
 
 "Not a bit," said Agnes. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Havelot, rising, "I have done all 
 I can to make you two listen to reason, and I can do 
 no more. I despair of making sensible human beings 
 of you, and so you might as well go on acting like a 
 couple of ninny-hammers." 
 
 " Do ninny-hammers marry and settle on the prop 
 erty adjoining yours, sir?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes; I suppose they do," he said. "And when 
 the aboriginal icehouse, or whatever the ridiculous 
 thing is that they have discovered, gives out, I sup 
 pose that they can come to a reasonable man and ask 
 him for a little money to buy bread and butter." 
 
 Two years have passed, and Agnes and the glacier 
 are still mine; great blocks of ice now flow in almost 
 a continuous stream from the mine to the railroad- 
 station, and in a smaller but quite as continuous 
 stream an income flows in upon Agnes and me; and 
 from one of the experimental excavations made by 
 Tom Burton on the bluff, comes a stream of ice-cold 
 water running in a sparkling brook a-down my dell. 
 On fine mornings before I am up, I am credibly in 
 formed that Aaron Boyce may generally be found, in 
 season and out of season, endeavoring to catch the 
 trout with which I am trying to stock that ice-cold 
 stream. The diploma-case, which I caused to be 
 
140 MY TERMINAL MORAINE 
 
 carefully removed from the ice -barrier which had 
 imprisoned me, now hangs in my study and holds our 
 marriage certificate. 
 
 Near the line-fence which separates his property 
 from mine, Mr. Havelot has sunk a wide shaft. " If 
 the glacier spur under your land was a quarter of a 
 mile wide," he says to me, "it was probably at least 
 a half a mile long; and if that were the case, the 
 upper end of it extends into my place, and I may be 
 able to strike it." He has a good deal of money, this 
 worthy Mr. Havelot, but he would be very glad to 
 increase his riches, whether they are based upon 
 sound reason or ridiculous facts. As for Agnes and 
 myself, no facts or any reason could make us happier 
 than our ardent love and our frigid fortune. 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF KELATIVE 
 EXISTENCES 
 
 IN a certain summer, not long gone, my friend 
 Bentley and I found ourselves in a little hamlet 
 which, overlooked a placid valley, through which a 
 river gently moved, winding its way through green 
 stretches until it turned the end of a line of low hills 
 and was lost to view. Beyond this river, far away, 
 but visible from the door of the cottage where we 
 dwelt, there lay a city. Through the mists which 
 floated over the valley we could see the outlines of 
 steeples and tall roofs ; and buildings of a character 
 which indicated thrift and business stretched them 
 selves down to the opposite edge of the river. The 
 more distant parts of the city, evidently a small one, 
 lost themselves in the hazy summer atmosphere. 
 
 Bentley was young, fair-haired, and a poet; I was 
 a philosopher, or trying to be one. We were good 
 friends, and had come down into this peaceful region 
 to work together. Although we had fled from the 
 bustle and distractions of the town, the appearance in 
 this rural region of a city, which, so far as we could 
 observe, exerted no influence on the quiet character of 
 the valley in which it lay, aroused our interest. No 
 
 141 
 
142 PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 
 
 craft plied up and down the river; there were no 
 bridges from shore to shore; there were none of those 
 scattered and half -squalid habitations which generally 
 are found on the outskirts of a city ; there came to us 
 no distant sound of bells ; and not the smallest wreath 
 of smoke rose from any of the buildings. 
 
 In answer to our inquiries our landlord told us that 
 the city over the river had been built by one man, who 
 was a visionary, and who had a great deal more money 
 than common sense. " It is not as big a town as you 
 would think, sirs," he said, "because the general 
 mistiness of things in this valley makes them look 
 larger than they are. Those hills, for instance, when 
 you get to them are not as high as they look to be 
 from here. But the town is big enough, and a good 
 deal too big ; for it ruined its builder and owner, who 
 when he came to die had not money enough left to put 
 up a decent tombstone at the head of his grave. He 
 had a queer idea that he would like to have his town 
 all finished before anybody lived in it, and so he kept 
 on working and spending money year after year and 
 year after year until the city was done and he had not 
 a cent left. During all the time that the place was 
 building hundreds of people came to him to buy houses 
 or to hire them, but he would not listen to anything 
 of the kind. No one must live in his town until it 
 was all done. Even his workmen were obliged to go 
 away at night to lodge. It is a town, sirs, I am told, 
 in which nobody has slept for even a night. There 
 are streets there, and places of business, and churches, 
 and public halls, and everything that a town full of 
 inhabitants could need; but it is all empty and de- 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 143 
 
 serted, and has been so as far back as I can remember, 
 and I came to this region when I was a little boy." 
 
 " And is there no one to guard the place? " we asked; 
 "no one to protect it from wandering vagrants who 
 might choose to take possession of the buildings?" 
 
 " There are not many vagrants in this part of the 
 country," he said; "and if there were, they would not 
 go over to that city. It is haunted." 
 
 "By what?" we asked. 
 
 "Well, sirs, I scarcely can tell you; queer beings 
 that are not flesh and blood, and that is all I know 
 about it. A good many people living hereabouts have 
 visited that place once in their lives, but I know of 
 no one who has gone there a second time." 
 
 " And travellers, " I said ; " are they not excited by 
 curiosity to explore that strange uninhabited city?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," our host replied; "almost all visitors to 
 the valley go over to that queer city generally in 
 small parties, for it is not a place in which one wishes 
 to walk about alone. Sometimes they see things, and 
 sometimes they don t. But I never knew any man or 
 woman to show a fancy for living there, although it is 
 a very good town." 
 
 This was said at supper-time, and, as it was the 
 period of full moon, Bentley and I decided that we 
 would visit the haunted city that evening. Our host 
 endeavored to dissuade us, saying that no one ever 
 went over there at night; but as we were not to be 
 deterred, he told us where we would find his small 
 boat tied to a stake on the river-bank. We soon 
 crossed the river, and landed at a broad, but low, 
 stone pier, at the land end of which a line of tall 
 
144 PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 
 
 grasses waved in the gentle night wind as if they were 
 sentinels warning us from entering the silent city. 
 We pushed through these, and walked up a street 
 fairly wide, and so well paved that we noticed none 
 of the- weeds and other growths which generally de 
 note desertion or little use. By the bright light of 
 the moon we could see that the architecture was simple, 
 and of a character highly gratifying to the eye. All 
 the buildings were of stone and of good size. We were 
 greatly excited and interested, and proposed to con 
 tinue our walks until the moon should set, and to 
 return on the following morning " to live here, per 
 haps," said Bentley. "What could be so romantic 
 and yet so real? What could conduce better to the 
 marriage of verse and philosophy?" But as he said 
 this we saw around the corner of a cross-street some 
 forms as of people hurrying away. 
 
 "The spectres," said my companion, laying his 
 hand on my arm. 
 
 "Vagrants, more likely," I answered, "who have 
 taken advantage of the superstition of the region to 
 appropriate this comfort and beauty to themselves." 
 
 " If that be so," said Bentley, " we must have a care 
 for our lives." 
 
 We proceeded cautiously, and soon saw other forms 
 fleeing before us and disappearing, as we supposed, 
 around corners and into houses. And now suddenly 
 finding ourselves upon the edge of a wide, open public 
 square, we saw in the dim light for a tall steeple 
 obscured the moon the forms of vehicles, horses, 
 and men moving here and there. But before, in our 
 astonishment, we could say a word one to the other, 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 145 
 
 the moon moved past the steeple, and in its bright 
 light we could see none of the signs of life and traffic 
 which had just astonished us. 
 
 Timidly, with hearts beating fast, but with not one 
 thought of turning back, nor any fear of vagrants, 
 for we were now sure that what we had seen was not 
 flesh and blood, and therefore harmless, we crossed 
 the open space and entered a street down which the 
 moon shone clearly. Here and there we saw dim 
 figures, which quickly disappeared; but, approaching 
 a low stone balcony in front of one of the houses, we 
 were surprised to see, sitting thereon and leaning over 
 a book which lay open upon the top of the carved 
 parapet, the figure of a woman who did not appear to 
 notice us. 
 
 "That is a real person," whispered Bentley, "and 
 she does not see us." 
 
 "No," I replied; "it is like the others. Let us go 
 near it." 
 
 We drew near to the balcony and stood before it. 
 At this the figure raised its head and looked at us. It 
 was beautiful, it was young; but its substance seemed 
 to be of an ethereal quality which we had never seen 
 or known of. With its full, soft eyes fixed upon us, 
 it spoke : 
 
 "Why are you here?" it asked. " I have said to 
 myself that the next time I saw any of you I would 
 ask you why you come to trouble us. Cannot you live 
 content in your own realms and spheres, knowing, as 
 you must know, how timid we are, and how you 
 frighten us and make us unhappy? In all this city 
 there is, I believe, not one of us except myself who 
 
146 PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 
 
 does not flee and hide from you whenever you cruelly 
 come here. Even I would do that, had not I declared 
 to myself that I would see you and speak to you, and 
 endeavor to prevail upon you to leave us in peace." 
 
 The clear, frank tones of the speaker gave me cour 
 age. " We are two men, " I answered, "strangers in 
 this region, and living for the time in the beautiful 
 country on the other side of the river. Having heard 
 of this quiet city, we have come to see it for ourselves. 
 We had supposed it to be uninhabited, but now that 
 we find that this is not the case, we would assure you 
 from our hearts that we do not wish to disturb or 
 annoy any one who lives here. We simply came as 
 honest travellers to view the city." 
 
 The figure now seated herself again, and as her 
 countenance was nearer to us, we could see that it was 
 filled with pensive thought. For a moment she looked 
 at us without speaking. "Men! " she said. "And so 
 I have been right. For a long time I have believed 
 that the beings who sometimes come here, filling us 
 with dread and awe, are men." 
 
 " And you, " I exclaimed " who are you, and who 
 are these forms that we have seen, these strange 
 inhabitants of this city?" 
 
 She gently smiled as she answered: "We are the 
 ghosts of the future. We are the people who are to 
 live in this city generations hence. But all of us do 
 not know that, principally because we do not think 
 about it and study about it enough to know it. And 
 it is generally believed that the men and women 
 who sometimes come hjere are ghosts who haunt the 
 place." 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 147 
 
 "And that is why you are terrified and flee from 
 us?" I exclaimed. "You think we are ghosts from 
 another world ? " 
 
 " Yes, " she replied ; " that is what is thought, and 
 what I used to think." 
 
 " And you, " I asked, " are spirits of human beings 
 yet to be?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered; "but not for a long time. 
 Generations of men, I know not how many, must pass 
 away before we are men and women." 
 
 " Heavens ! " exclaimed Bentley, clasping his hands 
 and raising his eyes to the sky, " I shall be a spirit 
 before you are a woman." 
 
 " Perhaps, " she said again, with a sweet smile upon 
 her face, "you may live to be very, very old." 
 
 But Bentley shook his head. This did not console 
 him. For some minutes I stood in contemplation, 
 gazing upon the stone pavement beneath my feet. 
 "And this," I ejaculated, "is a city inhabited by the 
 ghosts of the future, who believe men and women to be 
 phantoms and spectres?" 
 
 She bowed her head. 
 
 " But how is it, " I asked, " that you discovered that 
 you are spirits and we mortal men?" 
 
 "There are so few of us who think of such things," 
 she answered, " so few who study, ponder, and reflect. 
 I am fond of study, and I love philosophy ; and from 
 the reading of many books I have learned much. 
 From the book which I have here I have learned 
 most; and from its teachings I have gradually come 
 to the belief, which you tell me is the true one, that 
 we are spirits and you men." 
 
148 PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 
 
 "And what book is that?" I asked. 
 
 "It is The Philosophy of Eelative Existences/ by 
 Rupert Vance." 
 
 " Ye gods ! " I exclaimed, springing upon the bal 
 cony, "that is my book, and I am Rupert Vance." I 
 stepped toward the volume to seize it, but she raised 
 her hand. 
 
 "You cannot touch it," she said. "It is the ghost 
 of a book. And did you write it?" 
 
 "Write it? No," I said; "I am writing it. It is 
 not yet finished." 
 
 "But here it is," she said, turning over the last 
 pages. "As a spirit book it is finished. It is very 
 successful; it is held in high estimation by intelligent 
 thinkers; it is a standard work." 
 
 I stood trembling with emotion. "High estima 
 tion! " I said. "A standard work! " 
 
 "Oh, yes," she replied with animation; "and it 
 well deserves its great success, especially in its con 
 clusion. I have read it twice." 
 
 "But let me see these concluding pages," I ex 
 claimed. " Let me look upon what I am to write." 
 
 She smiled, and shook her head, and closed the 
 book. "I would like to do that," she said, "but if 
 you are really a man you must not know what you are 
 going to do." 
 
 "Oh, tell me, tell me," cried Bentley from below, 
 "do you know a book called Stellar Studies/ by 
 Arthur Bentley? It is a book of poems." 
 
 The figure gazed at him. "No," it said presently; 
 "I never heard of it." 
 
 I stood trembling. Had the youthful figure before 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 149 
 
 me been flesh and blood, had the book been a real 
 one, I would have torn it from her. 
 
 "0 wise and lovely being! " I exclaimed, falling on 
 iny knees before her, "be also benign and generous. 
 Let me but see the last page of my book. If I have 
 been of benefit to your world ; more than all, if I have 
 been of benefit to you, let me see, I implore you let 
 me see how it is that I have done it." 
 
 She rose with the book in her hand. "You have 
 only to wait until you have done it," she said, "and 
 then you will know all that you could see here." I 
 started to my feet, and stood alone upon the bal 
 cony. 
 
 "I am sorry," said Bentley, as we walked toward 
 the pier where we had left our boat, " that we talked 
 only to that ghost girl, and that the other spirits were 
 all afraid of us. Persons whose souls are choked up 
 with philosophy are not apt to care much for poetry ; 
 and even if my book is to be widely known, it is easy 
 to see that she may not have heard of it." 
 
 I walked triumphant. The moon, almost touching 
 the horizon, beamed like red gold. " My dear friend, " 
 said I, " I have always told you that you should put 
 more philosophy into your poetry. That would make 
 it live." 
 
 "And I have always told you," said he, "that you 
 should not put so much poetry into your philosophy. 
 It misleads people." 
 
 "It didn t mislead that ghost girl," said I. 
 
 "How do you know?" said Bentley. "Perhaps 
 she is wrong, and the other inhabitants of the city 
 
150 PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES 
 
 are right, and we may be the ghosts after all. Such 
 things, you know, are only relative. Anyway," he 
 continued, after a little pause, "I wish I knew that 
 those ghosts were now reading the poem which I am 
 going to begin to-morrow." 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 PO HANCY was the chief of a band of Dacoit 
 robbers, those outlaws who for years have rav 
 aged portions of British Burmah, killing, stealing, 
 and burning, and regarding not whether the sufferers 
 were their own people or white-skinned foreigners. 
 Prominent among these midnight assassins and rob 
 bers was Po Hancy j but he came to his just reward at 
 last, being trapped and killed by two native spies, and 
 the knife by which his head was severed from his body 
 lay on my library table. It had been sent to me by a 
 missionary friend to whom it had been brought as a 
 trophy of the superior valor of the loyal and somewhat 
 civilized natives over that of the outlaws of the jungle. 
 It was a rude weapon, with a heavy blade nearly nine 
 inches long, enclosed in a wooden sheath, and with a 
 beautifully polished handle of bone-like wood. On 
 the point of the blade and on its sides were great 
 blotches of rust, caused by the blood of Po Hancy. 
 
 This formidable weapon with its history was very 
 interesting to me; I could sympathize with the 
 joyful satisfaction with which the little band of mis 
 sionaries had looked upon the knife as a blessed sleep- 
 giver, an assurance that they need no longer lie awake 
 
 151 
 
152 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 on account of rumors of the approach of that blood 
 thirsty and unconvertible heathen and his band. 
 
 More than that, it had another interest for me; it 
 made me think of the man who had come to his death 
 by it. The idea struck me that Po Hancy and I were 
 as different from each other as two human beings 
 could possibly be. To arrange our differences in a 
 tabulated statement would be a work of a good deal of 
 time and very little value, but there was one dissimi 
 larity between us that particularly impressed itself 
 upon me : I had heard a good deal of this tiger-like 
 Dacoit crawling through the jungles for ten, fifteen, 
 or twenty miles, leaping down rocks with foothold as 
 silent and certain as that of a cat, and bounding upon 
 his victims with a strength and swiftness of an untir 
 ing beast of prey. 
 
 How different was I a languid, soft-fleshed, almost 
 middle-aged lawyer, tired out by sedentary work, by 
 night and by day, to whom a walk of half a mile was 
 weariness, and a climb to my office on the fifth floor 
 of a lofty building was a backache. As a young man 
 I had been somewhat athletic, but years of too much 
 work of one kind, and too little of another, had made 
 activity a memory, and wholesome exercise a discom 
 fort. Po Hancy was a specimen of perfect animal life, 
 and of the most imperfect life of the mind and soul. 
 My body resembled his mind and soul; of my mind 
 and soul I will say nothing, being of a modest 
 disposition. 
 
 Po Hancy was gone, utterly departed and annihi 
 lated, with the exception of the atoms of dried blood 
 which might yet remain in the blotches of rust upon 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 153 
 
 this ugly knife-blade. Strangely enough, it was pos 
 sible that something which helped to make up that 
 fierce Dacoit, some portions, minute though they might 
 be, of his very self, might lie here before me, in my 
 library, by my prayer-book, and a recent letter from 
 my mother, in a home of high civilization, on the 
 other side of the world from the Burmese jungle. 
 
 As I sat thinking of these things I took out my 
 pocket-knife, and began to scratch the spots of rust 
 upon the blade, and succeeded in detaching a little of 
 the fine dust from the iron, oxidized by means of Po 
 Hancy s life currents. There was so little of it, that 
 I had to moisten the end of my knife-blade in order to 
 take it up, and carefully look at it. Of course to the 
 eye it was like any other iron rust, but to my mind it 
 was far different. If there really were still atoms of 
 blood in it, it was all, or nearly all, that remained 
 above earth of the famous Po Hancy. 
 
 Involuntarily I balanced my penknife on my finger, 
 as if to weigh this infinitesimal remnant of savage 
 mortality, when suddenly the knife slipped, and in 
 endeavoring to catch it, the point ran into the thumb 
 of my left hand, inflicting a slight wound. For a 
 moment I was frightened. Here was an example of 
 the folly of playing with edged tools, especially those 
 that had belonged to savage heathens. This knife of 
 the slayer of the Dacoit might have been poisoned, and 
 here I had wounded myself with the point of my own 
 knife, to which adhered the dust I had scraped from 
 it. It was horrible to think that in a few hours I 
 might perish by the same knife that slew that fero 
 cious murderer! 
 
154 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 After a time, however, I calmed myself, for I had 
 never heard that the Burmese used poisoned weapons, 
 and when several days had passed without my having 
 felt any evil effects from the wound, which soon 
 healed, I felt perfectly safe. In fact, instead of there 
 being any injurious result from the cut (or the not 
 inconsiderable nervous shock consequent upon it), I 
 found myself in rather better health than usual, and 
 one afternoon I walked across the Common, through 
 the Public Garden, and four or five blocks beyond, to 
 my home, and did not feel the least fatigue. I had 
 not had an experience of this kind for two or three 
 years. 
 
 During the next few weeks, many of my friends 
 remarked that my health was certainly improving, and 
 there could be no doubt that they were correct. I 
 began to take walks that were moderately long. I 
 played billiards, that used to tire me so much that 
 I seldom played a whole game. And what surprised 
 everybody, and myself quite as much, I joined an 
 athletic club. This numbered among its members a 
 dozen or more of my friends, nearly all of whom, at 
 one time or another, had pressed me to join the club, 
 assuring me that it was the best thing I could do if I 
 wished to regain my old strength and activity, but 
 I had always refused. The very idea of gymnastic 
 exercise was disagreeable to me, and I was annoyed 
 at their persistence in advising it. 
 
 Now they were astonished at my change of opinion, 
 and some of them were inclined to ridicule me, sug 
 gesting some very easy and mild methods of exercise 
 suitable for a small boy beginner. But they stopped 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 155 
 
 that sort of chaff, when I raised a vaulting-bar several 
 inches higher than the last performer had left it, and 
 then went over it without touching; and when, seizing 
 a trapeze bar, I drew up my body and threw myself 
 around it with the ease of a circus man, some of them 
 remembered that I used to do that sort of thing, but 
 that I could return to it now, after all these years of 
 desk work, amazed them. 
 
 I kept up my gymnastic exercises nearly every day, 
 and as the club was to give a public exhibition early 
 in the autumn, I felt inclined to take part in it. All 
 my love for athletic sport had returned. But in spite 
 of my undoubted activity, there were a good many 
 men in the club who were greatly my superiors in 
 athletic feats, and there was no reason to suppose that 
 I would achieve any especial distinction in the public 
 games. The conviction of this somewhat dampened 
 my desire to become a contestant on so important an 
 occasion, and I sat down one evening to consider the 
 matter. " In the first place, " I said to myself, " how 
 did I regain all my old strength and activity? I have 
 not altered my method of living, my diet is the same, 
 I have had no change of air." At this moment my 
 eye fell on the knife that killed Po Hancy, which still 
 lay upon my table. " By George ! " I exclaimed, 
 springing to my feet, "could it have been that?" 
 
 My face flushed and my whole form glowed as I 
 remembered how I had fancied I had poisoned myself 
 by introducing into my veins the stuff I had scraped 
 from the Burmese knife. And now, could it be? 
 Was it by any means possible that I had accidentally 
 inoculated myself with some of the blood of Po 
 
156 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 Hancy, and in so doing had introduced into my system 
 some of his savage vigor and agility ! 
 
 The more I thought of this, the more strongly I 
 became convinced that it was so. I am a scientist in 
 an amateur way, and I take a great interest in experi 
 ments such as those performed by Brown-Sequard and 
 Dr. Koch. If certain physical attributes of one class 
 of living beings could be communicated to another by 
 inoculation, or hypodermic injection, why should not 
 another physical attribute be transmitted in the same 
 way? I could see no reason why this should not be 
 so, and in fact, I believed myself a proof that the 
 thing could be done. 
 
 Now, if I possessed some of the high physical quali 
 ties of the defunct Po Hancy, why should I not possess 
 them to a greater degree? What he had in perfection 
 was what I lacked. If I could get what he 110 longer 
 needed, and what, indeed, I would gladly have 
 deprived him of, whether I had been able to get it or 
 not, why should I not have it? There was really 
 nothing to object to in this proposition, and I deter 
 mined to make an experiment. 
 
 Eubbing some glycerine over the blood spots upon 
 the Dacoit knife, I scraped vigorously until I accumu 
 lated a little mass of the gummy substance. Then 
 baring my left arm, and excoriating a little spot 
 on it, as if I were about to vaccinate myself, I 
 rubbed in the compound. "Now," said I, wrap 
 ping a handkerchief around my arm, "we shall see 
 what we shall see." 
 
 The next morning, our waitress, who was just enter 
 ing the breakfast room, saw what she did see. She 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCT 157 
 
 saw me come in at another door, look at the table set 
 ready for the family breakfast, with a large bouquet, 
 a foot and a half high, in the centre of the table, run 
 a few steps, and then bound entirely over said table, 
 bouquet and all, and come down upon the other side 
 with an elastic thud, as if I had been made of India 
 rubber. She screamed, and although I had not touched 
 anything, stood expecting a crash. 
 
 " Merciful me, sir! " she exclaimed, when she found 
 nothing was about to happen; "I never did see any 
 body so supple." 
 
 When my two sisters came down, with me they 
 made up the family, for my mother was in Europe, 
 I had to tell them about this jump, for I did not want 
 the girl to do it. 
 
 "I have noticed, Harry," said Amelia, "that you 
 have changed very much of late. You are as springy 
 as a Jack-in-the-Box, and you used to be so poky and 
 stiff. I think you ought not to do that sort of thing 
 in the house. Suppose you had swept everything off 
 this table, what a lot of damage you would have done. 
 And I have had to have the stair-carpet stretched and 
 replaced because you will persist in going up three 
 steps at a time, and getting it all out of shape." 
 
 " I am very glad that Harry is feeling so strong and 
 well, " said Jenny ; " and I am going to teach him to 
 play tennis." 
 
 I laughed internally as I thought of a man with my 
 nimble power playing a baby game like tennis. 
 
 The inoculation with the blood of Po Hancy was 
 undoubtedly a success. I could feel strength and 
 vigor bounding through my veins; without hesitation 
 
158 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 I announced myself as a candidate for athletic honors 
 in the approaching games. 
 
 I will not here relate the feats I performed on the 
 great field of our club. In contests of hurling, lifting, 
 and all that, I took no part; but in running, jumping, 
 vaulting, bounding, I excelled all competitors and 
 broke several records. Had Po Hancy been in my 
 place, he might have done better, but without the 
 influence of Po Hancy s wild blood no one on the 
 grounds could have done as well. This is what I said 
 to myself as the crowd roared out its applause, and my 
 friends gathered around me to shake my hand. 
 
 Not only was my whole habit of life changed, but 
 the changes went on. I was not content to be able to 
 bound like a tiger and run like a deer, but I wanted 
 to do these things. Several times Avhen coming home 
 from my office in the evening, I was stopped by police 
 men who wanted to know what I was running away 
 from. I had some difficulty in persuading them that 
 I ran purely from a love of exercise, and they advised 
 against such speed in the public streets. Late at night 
 I used to have grand runs in the Common, but this did 
 not suit me very well. There were sometimes observ 
 ers, and the place was too open. I liked better the 
 Public Gardens, which afterward became my nightly 
 exercise ground. 
 
 With a pair of soft tennis-shoes on my feet it was 
 my delight to steal swiftly around masses of shrub 
 bery, dart up avenues, slip before the eyes of aston 
 ished policemen, and vanish into the shade, to bound 
 into the branches of some heavily foliaged tree, and 
 watch the guardian of the peace stalking below me, 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO 1IANCY 159 
 
 and then when he had passed, to drop noiselessly down 
 to track him over the whole of his beat, without his 
 suspecting that my soft-falling footsteps followed 
 his. 
 
 I did not pay much attention to my business, as 
 had been my custom, and I indulged in exercise and 
 long walks, even in the daytime, when I should have 
 been at my office. I felt a great desire to hunt I 
 do not mean to follow the hounds in their courses 
 about the Boston suburbs, but to tramp through the 
 wild woods and kill things with a rifle. As there was 
 little scope for this sort of sport in the coast country 
 of Massachusetts, I wanted to take a trip to the lower 
 part of Florida, for it was too late in the season to go 
 far West. In the forests down there I was sure I 
 could still find wild game, and if a wandering Sem- 
 inole Indian happened to interfere with me, or a 
 reckless alligator-hunter picked a quarrel with me, I 
 felt that I would be very well able to take care of 
 myself. 
 
 My law partners, however, objected very strongly to 
 my leaving town in the midst of our busiest season, 
 and I was obliged to postpone my contemplated trip. 
 One of the members of our firm jocosely remarked to 
 me that so far as business was concerned I was a better 
 man when I was not so well. And my sisters, who 
 used to object to Avalking with me because I was so 
 much given to going slowly, and stopping often, now 
 declined to accompany me because I strode so rapidly 
 that it tired them to keep up with me. In fact, in the 
 whole of Boston, I did not know any one who shared 
 my fancies for what might be called super-exercise, 
 
160 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 and I was obliged to be content with my own company 
 in my morning bounces and my evening spins. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that I lost at this time 
 my desire for companionship; in truth, a novel desire 
 of that sort sprang up within me. A distant relative 
 of my mother, who had always been accustomed to 
 spend some weeks with us in the autumn, now came 
 to make her annual visit. This was a lady of thirty 
 or thereabouts, by the name of Susan Mooney. She 
 was the kindest, gentlest, quietest, softest woman in 
 the world. Her disposition was so tender that if one 
 spoke to her of trouble or pain, the tears would almost 
 always come into her eyes. 
 
 My sisters were sorry that Susan had made her visit 
 this year during the absence of our mother ; for although 
 they liked her and loved her, they did not find her a 
 congenial companion. They were lively girls, fond 
 of society, while she was the quietest of the quiet, and 
 fond of home. Consequently, they were well pleased 
 when they found that I seemed to fancy Susan s com 
 pany, for that relieved them of the burden. But after 
 a week or two their feelings changed, and they told 
 me they thought I was giving entirely too much of my 
 time to Susan. My family had come to look upon me 
 as a bachelor who would never think of marrying, and 
 it would have surprised them to see me paying marked 
 attention to any lady. But when my sisters saw me 
 paying attention, so very marked indeed, to Susan 
 Mooney, they were not only surprised, but offended. 
 
 "If you are going to marry anybody," said Amelia, 
 " do take some one who is suitable for you. Mother 
 is very fond of Susan, and we like her, but she would 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 161 
 
 never do for a wife for you. She is no better than a 
 bag of milk." 
 
 I looked at them and smiled. It was true that I 
 had taken Susan to the theatre or concerts, evening 
 after evening, although I had been in the habit of 
 declining to go to such places with my sisters ; that I 
 made her take long walks with me ; that I spent hours 
 with her when I should have been in my office ; and 
 that lately she had been known to flush a little 
 when I came into the room where she was. 
 
 " Susan Mooney," I said, " is exactly the kind of girl 
 or lady that I like. She is so gentle, so docile, 
 so submissive, that " 
 
 " Submissive ! " snapped Jenny; " I should think so. 
 She has not the least bit of will of her own. You 
 would become a perfect tyrant with a wife like that. 
 I believe she would grow to tremble when she heard 
 your footstep." 
 
 "I do not say," I answered, "that I am going to 
 marry Susan, nor that I am going to marry anybody ; 
 but if I ever do take a wife, I want one who will 
 tremble when she hears my footstep." 
 
 They both laughed. "For a mild-mannered man," 
 cried Amelia, " you talk bigger than any one I ever 
 heard. The idea that any one could ever tremble at 
 your footstep is ridiculous." 
 
 I made no answer. It was well that they could not 
 analyze the blood that now ran in my veins. To me 
 Susan Mooney was attractive to a degree that no other 
 woman had been. I would not cease my attentions to 
 her, but, perhaps, since my sisters seemed so observ 
 ant, I would be more wary about them. 
 
162 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 I had used to be somewhat of a submissive person 
 myself, but I was such no longer. I did not always 
 state my determination to do things against the opin 
 ions and wishes of others, but the determination was 
 never altered. I grew to like to put myself in oppo 
 sition, especially if the other party did not know how I 
 stood. This I flattered myself might be a good thing 
 for a lawyer, but it was very different from my old 
 methods of thought and action. I also felt occasional 
 desires to put myself in physical opposition to some 
 one. I did not feel quarrelsome, but if I had seen 
 a reasonable opportunity of obtruding my physical 
 superiority on a fellow-being, I should have been glad 
 to avail myself of it. Civilized society does not offer 
 chances of this sort, sufficiently often, to satisfy Po 
 Hancyish cravings. 
 
 One evening as I was sitting in my library and 
 study on the third floor, I heard a slight noise down 
 stairs as if from the opening of a door. I knew that 
 the rest of the family had all retired, and I naturally 
 thought that a burglar was trying to enter the house. 
 The moment this idea came into my mind, my whole 
 body thrilled with a warm ecstasy. I slipped off my 
 shoes, and stole to the top of the stairs and listened 
 I heard the noise again ! Darting back into my room, I 
 buttoned my dark coat tight around my neck to con 
 ceal my white collar, and then seizing the knife that 
 killed Po Hancy, I silently glided down the stairway. 
 My eyes must have glistened with the expectant joy 
 of meeting a burglar. What transporting delight it 
 would be to steal upon the rascal and slay him with 
 one blow. It is so seldom that one gets an opportunity 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 163 
 
 to legitimately slay a rascal, or indeed any one. I do 
 not say that I would have decoyed a burglar into the 
 house for the purpose of slaying him, but if one were 
 really here of his own accord, how gladly would I 
 exercise my legal rights. 
 
 Down the stairs I went, bending low, with eyes 
 peering into the dark, with ears stretched to catch the 
 slightest sound, and with the knife that killed Po 
 Hancy half raised in my right hand. I went through 
 all the rooms on the first floor, I descended into the 
 cellar, feeling my way about in the darkness, and 
 stopping at intervals to listen. I even penetrated to 
 the back of the coal-bin, and I remember thinking 
 with pride how I stepped so carefully as to scarcely 
 disturb the coals that were piled about me. 
 
 Suddenly I heard the same noise that I had noticed 
 before. It was above me, and with a quick and silent 
 bound I was at the top of the cellar stairs. Here I 
 found what had made the noise ; it was a door at this 
 spot which had been left open. I noticed that it was 
 not fastened when I came down, but thought nothing 
 of it. A ventilating window was near by, and when 
 a puff of wind came into this window the door was 
 opened a little way, and then slowly swung back of its 
 own inclination. 
 
 When I discovered the facts of the case, I could 
 almost have cried. I felt that I had sustained a cruel 
 disappointment. Chagrined and depressed, I walked 
 slowly into the dining-room and sat down, debating 
 with myself whether or not I would care to put on my 
 hat and take a long night run. While sitting thus, I 
 heard some one coming down the stairs with slow and 
 
164 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 deliberate footsteps. I knew those footsteps; they 
 were those of Mary Carpenter, our good old house 
 keeper. Ashamed that she should find me sitting in 
 the dark, I got up and began to look for matches, but 
 before I found them, she entered, carrying a lighted 
 candle. 
 
 " Mercy on me, Mr. Harry ! " she exclaimed. " What 
 on earth are you doing here in the dark? I just 
 remembered that I did not fasten the top cellar door, 
 and I came down to do it. Are you sick? " 
 
 "No," I answered; "I am hungry, and I came down 
 to get some pie. I was just going to strike a light." 
 
 "Well, well!" exclaimed the good Mary; "that 
 is just like you, Mr. Harry. When you were a boy, 
 and even a young man, you were always wanting to 
 eat pie at night, and there were some that said that 
 you would have had better health if you had not done 
 so much of it. But for my part, I can t see any harm 
 in eating good wholesome pie, when a body feels 
 hungry for it. I have not heard you say you wanted 
 some pie for a long while, and it seems like good old 
 times to give you some after everybody else is in bed. 
 Now, it is lucky that I made to-day, with my own 
 hands, the first pumpkin pies of the season. I ll get 
 one and cut you a piece. Goodness gracious, Mr. 
 Harry ! You didn t mean to cut one of my pies with 
 that horrible knife, did you? If you did, I am truly 
 glad that I came down in time to stop you. A heathen 
 knife in a Christian pie is something I never heard of 
 yet, and I hope never to. It would poison it." 
 
 In a few minutes the good Mary placed before me a 
 noble specimen of her pastry-cooking. 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO I1ANCY 165 
 
 " There," said she, "is a pumpkin pie fit for a king, 
 only kings never get them ; and I suppose they would 
 call it a pudding in England, if they had it at all. 
 It s a good inch and a half thick, the Avay you always 
 liked them, and I am sure a piece of it will not hurt 
 you." 
 
 She cut a generous segment of the pie and gave it 
 to me on a plate. She was delighted to see with what 
 pleasure I ate it, and when I asked for another piece 
 she was surprised, but gave it to me. When I asked 
 for a third piece, she demurred a little, but in spite of 
 her really earnest protestations, I helped myself to 
 more, and eventually finished the whole pie, which 
 was of a size sufficient for an ordinary family. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Mary, as she took away my plate 
 and the empty pie-dish ; " this beats anything you ever 
 did when you were a boy. I only hope that you won t 
 feel badly in the night ; but if you do, come to my door 
 and knock. It won t take me a minute to mix some 
 peppermint for you, or give you anything else you 
 need." 
 
 I did not wonder that the good Mary was astonished 
 at the midnight appetite of a Po Hancy. I began to 
 fear, however, that I had been imprudent in letting 
 this appetite run away with me, and felt very glad 
 that there was some one in the house who knew what 
 to do for victims of unreasonable voracity. However, 
 there was no occasion for her services, for I went to 
 bed and slept the sleep of an infant. In the morning 
 when I awoke, fresh and clear-headed, with a whole 
 some appetite for my breakfast, I felt what it was to 
 possess the digestion of a Dacoit. 
 
166 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANOY 
 
 The wonderful physical powers with which I felt 
 myself endowed were sources of the greatest satisfac 
 tion to me, but they began to have their drawbacks, 
 and after a time they caused me great mental uneasi 
 ness. Because I knew myself perfectly able to do 
 certain things which I ought not to do, I wished to do 
 them. For instance, there was a stout man of German 
 Jewish aspect, who, before my Po Haiicy days, had 
 been in the habit of going home from his business 
 about the same time that I did, and frequently took 
 the street car in which I was riding. This man, if it 
 were possible, always seated himself next to me, 
 thinking, I imagined, that as I was rather a slender 
 man, he would have a better chance of crowding me, 
 and getting more than his share of room in case the 
 car became full. And when this opportunity was 
 afforded him, he always availed himself of it to the 
 utmost. I sometimes remonstrated with him, and 
 sometimes tried to crowd him a little; but neither 
 course was of any service, and it not unfrequently 
 happened that I got up and stood on the platform to 
 avoid this unsavory persecutor. 
 
 As I now thought of this man, my blood boiled 
 within me. I did not, at this time, ride in street 
 cars, for I felt no need of them, but I felt greatly 
 tempted to get into one at the hour I usually left my 
 office, in the hope that the stout man would. enter and 
 sit beside me. If this should happen, and he should 
 dare to push or elbow me, I would spring upon him 
 and hurl him out of the door of the car, no matter how 
 rapidly it might be moving. I ground my teeth in 
 savage anticipation of the joy I would take in thus 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 167 
 
 avenging myself for all his former insults. But my 
 common sense and my familiarity with, the common 
 law showed me that this would be a very foolish 
 thing to do, certain to bring me into trouble, and 
 even ridicule, which would be worse. My uncivilized 
 instincts were so strong that frequently I was obliged, 
 figuratively, to put my hand upon my own shoulder 
 to prevent myself from entering a car in which there 
 was a chance of encountering the stout German. 
 
 There were other novel and perhaps aboriginal crav 
 ings which came upon me at this time. One of these 
 was an abnormal longing to possess desirable objects. 
 For instance, in a jeweller s window, which I fre 
 quently passed, there was a handsome brooch which 
 attracted my favorable attention. It was composed 
 of a large stone of the moonstone order, artistically 
 surrounded by brilliants. It struck me that this 
 would be a most appropriate ornament for the gentle 
 Susan. Several times I stood looking at it and plan 
 ning how I might get it for her without resort to the 
 usual methods of exchange. A strong tap on the 
 window pane, a quick snatch, and then a series of 
 dartings and doublings, along a route which I had 
 marked out in my mind, around a corner, up an 
 alley, over the fences of two back yards that I had 
 noted, into a small street, where I would change my 
 soft light-colored felt hat for a dark travelling-cap 
 which I would have in my pocket. Then a rush into 
 a crowded thoroughfare, and a leisurely walk home. 
 But this scheme did not altogether please me ; I would 
 have better liked, in the dark hours of the morning, to 
 climb a tree which stood before the jeweller s shop, 
 
168 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCT 
 
 to go out on a limb until it bent down to the level of 
 the transom window over the top of the door, to open 
 this, slip in, pocket the brooch, climb up to the tran 
 som, listen, drop outside, and noiselessly glide away. 
 
 I had entirely too many fancies of this kind, and 
 when away from my temptations, my mind was seri 
 ously troubled by the thoughts of the dangers to which 
 I was exposed; this robber blood was making a differ 
 ent man of me, a man who ran the risk of ending his 
 life in a prison. I used to ponder for hours upon my 
 alarming condition. Sometimes I thought of myself 
 as another Mr. Hyde; but alas! my case was worse 
 than that. I was not sometimes good and sometimes 
 bad; I was under an influence which was steadfast 
 and of increasing power, the effects of which, my rea 
 son told me, must be permanent. When a Christian 
 gentleman puts Dacoit blood into his veins, there is no 
 way of his getting it out again, except by letting out 
 all of his blood, a remedy I did not fancy. How 
 earnestly I wished Po Hancy had been converted 
 before he had been killed. 
 
 But had. the robber chief repented and lived a 
 proper life, he would not have been killed, and I 
 would have had no knife with his blood on it, and my 
 present physical perfection would never have come to 
 me. When I looked upon the matter in this light, I 
 asked myself whether I would have been satisfied had 
 it been so, and I could not bring myself to answer 
 Yes. After all, it was my vanity that had brought 
 this terrible peril upon me. Had I been contented 
 with the little prick my knife had given me, I might 
 have been no more than the active, healthy gentleman 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 169 
 
 I had always wished to be. But that foolish desire 
 to shine in the athletic games had not only given me 
 an excess of strength, but also the impulses of a 
 jungle sneak. 
 
 When troubled thus, my greatest relief was the 
 society of Susan Mooney. The flow of her gentle soul 
 was so unrippled that it seldom failed to soothe me. 
 Feeling the great good she was to me, I now made up 
 my mind to marry her, and it delighted me to think 
 that in so doing I would not be troubled by the 
 ordinary antecedents of matrimony. I would simply 
 inform her that she was to be my wife, then all she 
 would have to do was to set herself to the task of 
 getting ready for the ceremony. But I could not al 
 ways avail myself of the soothings of Susan, and the 
 agitation of my mind became more harassing and 
 frequent. 
 
 Early one evening I was sitting alone in my 
 study, torn by a desire to take a long walk in the 
 suburbs, and restrained by a fear that if I did so I 
 should be induced to forget that I was not a prowling 
 Dacoit. Suddenly I heard a cry below stairs; it was 
 the voice of my dear Susan, in terror and pain. In 
 ten seconds I had bounded down to the drawing- 
 room, where, between my two sisters, I found the fair 
 Susan almost fainting with one of her white hands 
 reddened with her blood, and in her lap the knife 
 that killed Po Hancy. The situation was quickly 
 explained; that afternoon Jenny had brought down 
 the knife to show a visitor interested in such things, 
 and now Susan had been playing with it and had cut 
 her finger ! 
 
170 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 The wound was not a serious one, and the sufferer 
 was soon cared for and conducted to her room. I 
 took the knife upstairs, determined to lock it up 
 securely. But as I was about to replace it in its 
 sheath I noticed that the blade was discolored in sev 
 eral places with fresh blood the blood of Susan, 
 still moist. 
 
 I sat for some ten minutes, earnestly gazing upon 
 the knife-blade. What a contrast the blood of Po 
 Hancy, the blood of Susan Mooney. As I pondered, 
 a thought, seemingly filled with the light of a coming 
 salvation, dawned upon me. I bared my right arm, 
 and with my penknife scratched the skin for a space 
 of over an inch in diameter. On this I rubbed the 
 moist blood of Susan, as much of it as I could get 
 from the great knife-blade, and which exceeded in 
 quantity that which I had obtained from the rust 
 spots. I trembled when this deed was finished; I 
 did not dare to think what might happen, but I 
 hoped. 
 
 The next day my right arm was very sore, and I 
 could not write. I felt assured that no one with 
 Dacoit blood in his veins should be allowed to per 
 form an operation of the nature of vaccination. As 
 my disability, the cause of which I did not explain to 
 any one, gave a reason for a little vacation, I went off 
 to the Berkshire Hills. The gay season of Stock- 
 bridge and Lenox had not yet come to an end, and the 
 life there interested me very much. It was a pleas 
 ant change; for years I had mingled very little in 
 fashionable society. I met a good many friends and 
 acquaintances, all glad to have me with them, but 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 171 
 
 surprised as well as pleased at my willingness to 
 enter into all the festive doings of the region. In 
 fact, I agreed to whatever was proposed to me, except 
 when two of my fellow-members of the athletic club 
 asked me to join them in a long tramp. This I de 
 clined, mainly for the reason that they had planned to 
 start very early in the morning before sunrise, and I 
 would not give up the delightful and tranquillizing 
 hours of sleep which immediately precede a late 
 breakfast. 
 
 At the close of the day after my return I rode home 
 from my office in a street car. At the corner where 
 I had been in the habit of expecting him, the stout 
 German got in. There was an empty place next to 
 me, large enough for an ordinary person, but not 
 large enough for him. He came directly toward me 
 and endeavored to squeeze himself into the vacancy. 
 As he did so, I moved as far as possible away from 
 him, in order to give him the room he desired. 
 
 That evening my sister Amelia took me aside. 
 " Harry," said she, "I have something very serious 
 to say to you. Susan has had a letter from mother 
 begging her to stay here until her return. Now, this 
 will keep her with us a month longer at least, and I 
 think this is a very deplorable thing." 
 
 "Why so?" Tasked. 
 
 "Because it will give you an opportunity to carry 
 on your absurd courtship of her, and that cannot fail 
 to end in your marrying her, and I should like to 
 know, Harry, what could be more deplorable than 
 that? In fact, Jenny and I have made up our minds 
 that we will not stand it. Mother may consent to 
 
172 THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 
 
 live in the house with that simple Susan as your wife, 
 but we never will." 
 
 " My dear sister, " said I, " you and Jenny need not 
 trouble yourselves on that subject. I do not in the 
 least desire to marry Susan Mooney. She is a good 
 woman, very good, but she is not the sort of person I 
 would want for a wife. I should think you could see 
 that for yourselves. The life of a hard-working man 
 like myself is monotonous enough without Susan. 
 But now that you have spoken of marriage, I will 
 say that I met two ladies, one in Stockbridge and the 
 other at Lenox, either of which would make me a 
 good wife. I rather prefer the Lenox girl, Miss 
 Camilla Sunderland. Do you know her? " 
 
 " Camilla Sunderland ! " exclaimed my sister. " She 
 is a leading belle, a dazzling star of the season. She 
 goes everywhere, does everything, drives four-in-hand, 
 plays tennis matches, is devoted to balls, theatre par 
 ties why, my dear Harry, I should think you could 
 not exist with a wife like that." 
 
 " Miss Sunderland, " said I, leaning back in a soft 
 armchair, " would be just the wife I dream of. I am 
 sure I prefer her to the lady at Stockbridge. I am 
 not disposed, as you know, to take part, to any great 
 extent, in the exciting life of the fashionable world, 
 but I should wish to feel that through my wife I had 
 a part in it." 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed Amelia, " you may never get 
 Camilla Sunderland, but I am truly glad that you 
 have given up all thoughts of Susan. But, Harry, a 
 very great change must have come over you; it was 
 not long ago that you told me you wanted a wife who 
 would tremble at your tread." 
 
THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 173 
 
 I made a gesture of languid disapprobation. "My 
 dear girl," said I, "I should despise a woman who 
 would tremble at my tread." 
 
 I have not yet married Miss Sunderland, partly be 
 cause it is difficult for a man of my quiet and slow 
 turn of mind to follow and find her in the mazes and 
 intricacies of the fashionable life in which she exists, 
 and partly because my sisters have succeeded in mak 
 ing me doubt her acceptance of my addresses in case I 
 should get an opportunity of offering them to her. 
 But I want her, and until she is married to somebody 
 else, I shall continue to hope. 
 
 As for the knife that killed Po Hancy, I threw it 
 into the Charles River. It was a dangerous knife. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 TTTHENEVER I make a Christmas present I like 
 VV it to mean something ; not necessarily my 
 sentiments toward the person to whom I give it, but 
 sometimes an expression of what I should like that 
 person to do or to be. In the early part of a certain 
 winter not very long ago I found myself in a position 
 of perplexity and anxious concern regarding a Christ 
 mas present which I wished to make. 
 
 The state of the case was this. There was a young 
 lady, the daughter of a neighbor and old friend of my 
 father, who had been gradually assuming relations 
 toward me which were not only unsatisfactory to me, 
 but were becoming more and more so. Her name was 
 Mildred Bronce. She was between twenty and twenty- 
 five years of age, and as fine a woman in every way as 
 one would be likely to meet in a lifetime. She was 
 handsome, of a tender and generous disposition, a fine 
 intelligence, and a thoroughly well-stocked mind. We 
 had known each other for a long time, and when four 
 teen or fifteen Mildred had been my favorite compan 
 ion. She was a little younger than I, and I liked her 
 better than any boy I knew. Our friendship had 
 continued through the years, but of late there had 
 
 174 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 175 
 
 been a change in it ; Mildred had become very fond of 
 me, and her fondness seemed to have in it certain 
 elements which annoyed me. 
 
 As a . girl to make love to, no one could be better 
 than Mildred Bronce ; but I had never made love to 
 her, at least not earnestly, and I did not wish 
 that any permanent condition of loving should be 
 established between us. Mildred did not seem to 
 share this opinion ; for every day it became plainer to 
 me that she looked upon me as a lover, and that she 
 was perfectly willing to return my affection. 
 
 But I had other ideas upon the subject. Into the 
 rural town in which my family passed the greater part 
 of the year there had recently come a young lady, 
 Miss Janet Clinton, to whom my soul went out of my 
 own option. In some respects, perhaps, she was not 
 the equal of Mildred, but she was very pretty ; she was 
 small, she had a lovely mouth, was apparently of a 
 clinging nature, and her dark eyes looked into mine 
 with a tingling effect that no other eyes had ever pro 
 duced. I was in love with her because I wished to 
 be, and the consciousness of this fact caused me a 
 proud satisfaction. This affair was not the result of 
 circumstances, but of my own free will. 
 
 I wished to retain Mildred s friendship, I wished to 
 make her happy; and with this latter intent in view I 
 wished very much that she should not disappoint 
 herself in her anticipations of the future. 
 
 Each year it had been my habit to make Mildred a 
 Christmas present, and I was now looking for some 
 thing to give her which would please her and suit my 
 purpose. 
 
176 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 When a man wishes to select a present for a lady 
 which, while it assures her of his kind feeling toward 
 her, will at the same time indicate that not only has 
 he no matrimonial inclinations in her direction, but 
 that it would be entirely unwise for her to have any 
 such inclinations in his direction j that no matter with 
 what degree of fondness her heart is disposed to turn 
 toward him, his heart does not turn toward her, and 
 that, in spite of all sentiments induced by long associ 
 ation and the natural fitness of things, she need never 
 expect to be to him anything more than a sister, he 
 has, indeed, a difficult task before him. But such 
 was the task which I set for myself. 
 
 Day after day I wandered through the shops. I 
 looked at odd pieces of jewelry and bric-a-brac, and at 
 many a quaint relic or bit of art work which seemed 
 to have a meaning, but nothing had the meaning I 
 wanted. As to books, I found none which satisfied 
 me ; not one which was adapted to produce the exact 
 impression that I desired. 
 
 One^afteriioon I was in a little basement shop kept 
 by a fellow in a long overcoat, who, so far as I was 
 able to judge, bought curiosities but never sold any. 
 For some minutes I had been looking at a beautifully 
 decorated saucer of rare workmanship for which there 
 was no cup to match, and for which the proprietor 
 informed me no cup could be found or manufactured. 
 There were some points in the significance of an arti 
 cle of this sort, given as a present to a lady, which 
 fitted to my purpose, but it would signify too much : I 
 did not wish to suggest to Mildred that she need never 
 expect to find a cup. It would be better, in fact, if I 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 177 
 
 gave her anything of this kind, to send her a cup and 
 saucer entirely unsuited to each other, and which could 
 not, under any conditions, be used together. 
 
 I put down the saucer, and continued my search 
 among the dusty shelves and cases. 
 
 "How would you like a paper-weight?" the shop 
 keeper asked. "Here is something a little odd," 
 handing me a piece of dark-colored mineral nearly as 
 big as my fist, flat on the under side and of a pleasing 
 irregularity above. Around the bottom was a band of 
 arabesque work in some dingy metal, probably German 
 silver. I smiled as I took it. 
 
 "This is not good enough for a Christmas present," 
 I said. "I want something odd, but it must have 
 some value." 
 
 "Well," said the man, "that has no real value, but 
 there is a peculiarity about it which interested me 
 when I heard of it, and so I bought it. This mineral 
 is a piece of what the iron-workers call shadrach. It 
 is a portion of the iron or iron ore which passes 
 through the smelting- furnaces without being affected 
 by the great heat, and so they have given it the name 
 of one of the Hebrew youths who was cast into the 
 fiery furnace by Nebuchadnezzar, and who came out 
 unhurt. Some people think there is a sort of magical 
 quality about this shadrach, and that it can give out 
 to human beings something of its power to keep their 
 minds cool when they are in danger of being over 
 heated. The old gentleman who had this made was 
 subject to fits of anger, and he thought this piece of 
 shadrach helped to keep him from giving way to them. 
 Occasionally he used to leave it in the house of a 
 
178 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 hot-tempered neighbor, believing that the testy indi 
 vidual would be cooled down for a time, without 
 knowing how the change had been brought about. I 
 bought a lot of things of the old gentleman s widow, 
 and this among them. I thought I might try it some 
 time, but I never have." 
 
 I held the shadrach in my hand, ideas concerning it 
 rapidly flitting through my mind. Why would not 
 this be a capital thing to give to Mildred? If it 
 should, indeed, possess the quality ascribed to it, 
 if it should be able to cool her liking for me, what 
 better present could I give her? I did not hesitate 
 long. 
 
 " I will buy this, " I said ; " but the ornamentation 
 must be of a better sort. It is now too cheap and 
 tawdry-looking. " 
 
 "I can attend to that for you," said the shopkeeper. 
 " I can have it set in a band of gold or silver filigree- 
 work like this, if you choose." 
 
 I agreed to this proposition, but ordered the band 
 to be made of silver, the cool tone of that metal being 
 more appropriate to the characteristics of the gift than 
 the warmer hues of gold. 
 
 When I gave my Christmas present to Mildred, she 
 was pleased with it; its oddity struck her fancy. 
 
 "I don t believe anybody ever had such a paper 
 weight as that," she said, as she thanked me. "What 
 is it made of?" 
 
 I told her, and explained what shadrach was ; but I 
 did not speak of its presumed influence over human 
 beings, which, after all, might be nothing but the 
 wildest fancy. I did not feel altogether at my ease, 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 179 
 
 as I added that it was merely a trifle, a thing of no 
 value except as a reminder of the season. 
 
 "The fact that it is a present from you gives it 
 value," she said, as she smilingly raised her eyes to 
 mine. 
 
 I left her house we were all living in the city then 
 with a troubled conscience. What a deception I 
 was practising upon this noble girl, who, if she did 
 not already love me, was plainly on the point of doing 
 so. She had received my present as if it indicated 
 a warmth of feeling on my part, when, in fact, it was 
 the result of a desire for a cooler feeling on her part. 
 
 But I called my reason to my aid, and I showed 
 myself that what I had given Mildred if it should 
 prove to possess any virtue at all was, indeed, a 
 most valuable boon. It was something which would 
 prevent the waste of her affections, the wreck of her 
 hopes t No kindness could be truer, no regard for her 
 happiness more sincere, than the motives which 
 prompted me to give her the shadrach. 
 
 I did not soon again see Mildred, but now as often 
 as possible I visited Janet. She always received me 
 with a charming cordiality, and if this should develop 
 into warmer sentiments I was not the man to wish 
 to cool them. In many ways Janet seemed much 
 better suited to me than Mildred. One of the greatest 
 charms of this beautiful girl was a tender trustfulness, 
 as if I were a being on whom she could lean and to 
 whom she could look up. I liked this; it was very 
 different from Mildred s manner: with the latter I 
 had always been well satisfied if I felt myself standing 
 on the same plane. 
 
180 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 
 
 The weeks and months passed on, and again we 
 were all in the country; and here I saw Mildred often. 
 Our homes were not far apart, and our families were 
 very intimate. With my opportunities for frequent 
 observation I could not doubt that a change had come 
 over her. She was always friendly when we met, and 
 seemed as glad to see me as she was to see any other 
 member of my family, but she was not the Mildred I 
 used to know. It was plain that my existence did not 
 make the same impression on her that it once made. 
 She did not seem to consider it important whether I 
 came or went; whether I was in the room or not; 
 whether I joined a party or stayed away. All this 
 had been very different. I knew well that Mildred 
 had been used to consider my presence as a matter of 
 much importance, and I now felt sure that my Christ 
 inas shadrach was doing its work. Mildred was 
 cooling toward me. Her affection, or, to put it 
 more modestly, her tendency to affection, was gently 
 congealing into friendship. This was highly gratify 
 ing to my moral nature, for every day I was doing 
 my best to warm the soul of Janet. Whether or 
 not I succeeded in this I could not be sure ; Janet was 
 as tender and trustful and charming as ever, but no 
 more so than she had been months before. 
 
 Sometimes I thought she was waiting for an indica 
 tion of an increased warmth of feeling on my part 
 before she allowed the temperature of her own senti 
 ments to rise. But for one reason and another I 
 delayed the solution of this problem. Janet was 
 very fond of company, and although we saw a great 
 deal of each other, we were not often alone. If we 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 181 
 
 two had more frequently walked, driven, or rowed 
 together, as Mildred and I used to do, I think Miss 
 Clinton would soon have had every opportunity of 
 making up her mind about the fervor of my passion. 
 
 The summer weeks passed on, and there was no 
 change in the things which now principally concerned 
 me, except that Mildred seemed to be growing more 
 and more indifferent to me. From having seemed to 
 care no more for me than for her other friends, she 
 now seemed to care less for me than for most people. I 
 do not mean that she showed a dislike, but she treated 
 me with a sort of indifference which I did not fancy 
 at all. This sort of thing had gone too far, and there 
 was no knowing how much further it would go. It 
 was plain enough that the shadrach was overdoing the 
 business. 
 
 I was now in a state of much mental disquietude. 
 Greatly as I desired to win the love of Janet, it 
 grieved me to think of losing the generous friendship 
 of Mildred that friendship to which I had been 
 accustomed for the greater part of my life, and on 
 which, as I now discovered, I had grown to depend. 
 
 In this state of mind I went to see Mildred. I 
 found her in the library writing. She received me 
 pleasantly, and was sorry her father was not at home, 
 and begged that I would excuse her finishing the note 
 on which she was engaged, because she wished to get 
 it into the post-office before the mail closed. I sat 
 down on the other side of the table, and she finished 
 her note, after which she went out to give it to a 
 servant. 
 
 Glancing about me, I saw the shadrach. It was 
 
182 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 
 
 partly under a litter of papers, instead of lying on 
 them. I took it up, and was looking at it when Mil 
 dred returned. She sat down and asked me if I had 
 heard of the changes that were to be made in the 
 time-table of the railroad. We talked a little on the 
 subject, and then I spoke of the shadracli, saying 
 carelessly that it might be interesting to analyze the 
 bit of metal; there was a little knob which might be 
 filed off without injuring it in the least. 
 
 " You may take it, " she said, " and make what ex 
 periments you please. I do not use it much; it is 
 unnecessarily heavy for a paper-weight." 
 
 From her tone I might have supposed that she had 
 forgotten that I had given it to her. I told her that 
 I would be very glad to borrow the paper-weight for 
 a time, and, putting it into my pocket, I went away, 
 leaving her arranging her disordered papers on the 
 table, and giving quite as much regard to this occu 
 pation as she had given to my little visit. 
 
 I could not feel sure that the absence of the sha- 
 drach would cause any diminution in the coolness of 
 her feelings toward me, but there was reason to 
 believe that it would prevent them from growing 
 cooler. If she should keep that shadracli she might 
 in time grow to hate me. I was very glad that I had 
 taken it from her. 
 
 My mind easier on this subject, my heart turned 
 more freely toward Janet, and, going to her house, 
 the next day I was delighted to find her alone. She 
 was as lovely as ever, and as cordial, but she was 
 flushed and evidently annoyed. 
 
 "I am in a bad humor to-day," she said, "and I am 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 183 
 
 glad you came to talk to me and quiet me. Dr. Gil 
 bert promised to take me to drive this afternoon, and 
 we were going over to the hills where they find the 
 wild rhododendron. I am told that it is still in 
 blossom up there, and I want some flowers ever so 
 much I am going to paint them. And besides, I 
 am crazy to drive with his new horses ; and now he 
 sends me a note to say that he is engaged." 
 
 This communication shocked me, and I began to 
 talk to her about Dr. Gilbert. I soon found that sev 
 eral times she had been driving with this handsome 
 young physician, but never, she said, behind his new 
 horses, nor to the rhododendron hills. 
 
 Dr. Hector Gilbert was a fine young fellow, begin 
 ning practice in town, and one of my favorite associ 
 ates. I had never thought of him in connection with 
 Janet, but I could now see that he might make a most 
 dangerous rival. When a young and talented doctor, 
 enthusiastic in his studies, and earnestly desirous of 
 establishing a practice, and who, if his time were not 
 fully occupied, would naturally wish that the neigh 
 bors would think that such were the case, deliberately 
 devotes some hours on I know not how many days to 
 driving a young lady into the surrounding country, it 
 may be supposed that he is really in love with her. 
 Moreover, judging from Janet s present mood, this 
 doctor s attentions were not without encouragement. 
 
 I went home; I considered the state of affairs; I 
 ran my fingers through my hair; I gazed steadfastly 
 upon the floor. Suddenly I rose. I had had an 
 inspiration; I would give the shadrach to Dr. Gil 
 bert. 
 
184 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 
 
 I went immediately to the doctor s office, and found 
 him there. He too was not in a very good humor. 
 
 "I have had two old ladies here nearly all the 
 afternoon, and they have bored me to death," he said. 
 " I could not get rid of them because I found they had 
 made an appointment with each other to visit me to 
 day and talk over a hospital plan which I proposed 
 some time ago and which is really very important to 
 me, but I wish they had chosen some other time to 
 come here. What is that thing? " 
 
 " That is a bit of shadrach, " I said, " made into a 
 paper-weight." And then I proceeded to explain 
 what shadrach is, and what peculiar properties it must 
 possess to resist the power of heat, which melts other 
 metal apparently of the same class ; and I added that 
 I thought it might be interesting to analyze a bit of it 
 and discover what fire-proof constituents it possessed. 
 
 " I should like to do that, " said the doctor, atten 
 tively turning over the shadrach in his hand. " Can 
 I take off a piece of it? " 
 
 "I will give it to you," said I, "and you can make 
 what use of it you please. If you do analyze it, I 
 shall be very glad indeed to hear the results of your 
 investigations." 
 
 The doctor demurred a little at taking the paper 
 weight with such a pretty silver ring around it, but I 
 assured him that the cost of the whole affair was tri 
 fling, and I should be gratified if he would take it. 
 He accepted the gift, and was thanking me ? when a 
 patient arrived, and I departed. 
 
 I really had no right to give away this paper 
 weight, which, in fact, belonged to Mildred, but there 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 185 
 
 are times when a man must keep his eyes on the chief 
 good, and not think too much about other things. 
 Besides, it was evident that Mildred did not care in 
 the least for the bit of metal, and she had virtually 
 given it to me. 
 
 There was another point which I took into consid 
 eration. It might be that the shadrach might sim 
 ply cool Dr. Gilbert s feelings toward me, and that 
 would be neither pleasant nor advantageous. If I 
 could have managed matters so that Janet could have 
 given it to him, it would have been all right. But 
 now all that I could do was to wait and see what 
 would happen. If only the thing would cool the doc 
 tor in a general way, that would help. He might 
 then give more thought to his practice and his hospi 
 tal ladies, and let other people take Janet driving. 
 
 About a week after this I met the doctor; he seemed 
 in a hurry, but I stopped him. I had a curiosity to 
 know if he had analyzed the shadrach, and asked him 
 about it. 
 
 "No," said he; "I haven t done it. I haven t had 
 time. I knocked off a piece of it, and I will attend 
 to it when I get a chance. Good day." 
 
 Of course if the man was busy, he could not be ex 
 pected to give his mind to a trifling matter of that 
 sort, but I thought he need not have been so curt 
 about it. I stood gazing after him as he walked 
 rapidly down the street. Before I resumed my walk 
 I saw him enter the Clinton house. Things were not 
 going on well. The shadrach had not cooled Dr. Gil 
 bert s feelings toward Janet. 
 
 But because the doctor was still warm in his atten- 
 
186 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 tions to the girl I loved, I would not in the least relax 
 my attentions to her. I visited her as often as I 
 could find an excuse to do so. There was generally 
 some one else there, but Janet s disposition was of 
 such gracious expansiveness that each one felt obliged 
 to be satisfied with what he got, much as he may have 
 wished for something different. 
 
 But one morning Janet surprised me. I met her at 
 Mildred s house, where I had gone to borrow a book 
 of reference. Although I had urged her not to put 
 herself to so much trouble, Mildred was standing on 
 a little ladder looking for the book, because, she said, 
 she knew exactly what I wanted, and she was sure 
 she could find the proper volume better than I could. 
 Janet had been sitting in a window-seat, reading, but 
 when I came in she put down her book and devoted 
 herself to conversation with me. I was a little sorry 
 for this, because Mildred was very kindly engaged in 
 doing me a service, and I really wanted to talk to her 
 about the book she was looking for. Mildred showed 
 so much of her old manner this morning that I would 
 have been very sorry to have her think that I did not 
 appreciate her returning interest in me. Therefore, 
 while under other circumstances I would have been 
 delighted to talk to Janet, I did not wish to give her 
 so much of my attention then. But Janet Clinton 
 was a girl who insisted on people attending to her 
 when she wished them to do so, and, having stepped 
 through an open door into the garden, she presently 
 called me to her. Of course I had to go. 
 
 " I will not keep you a minute from your fellow- 
 student," she said, "but I want to ask a favor of you." 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 187 
 
 And into her dark, uplifted eyes there came a look 
 of tender trustfulness clearer than any I had yet seen 
 there. " Don t you want to drive me to the rhododen 
 dron hills? " she said. " I suppose the flowers are all 
 gone by this time, but I have never been there, and I 
 should like ever so much to go." 
 
 I could not help remarking that I thought Dr. 
 Gilbert was going to take her there. 
 
 " Dr. Gilbert, indeed ! " she said with a little 
 laugh. "He promised once, and didn t come, and 
 the next day he planned for it it rained. I don t think 
 doctors make very good escorts, anyway, for you can t 
 tell who is going to be sick just as you are about 
 to start on a trip. Besides, there is no knowing how 
 much botany I should have to hear, and when I go 
 on a pleasure-drive I don t care very much about 
 studying things. But of course I don t want to 
 trouble you." 
 
 " Trouble ! " I exclaimed. " It will give me the 
 greatest delight to take you that drive or any other, 
 and at whatever time you please." 
 
 "You are always so good and kind," she said, with 
 her dark eyes again upraised. "And now let us go 
 in and see if Mildred has found the book." 
 
 I spoke the truth when I said that Janet s proposi 
 tion delighted me. To take a long drive with that 
 charming girl, and at the same time to feel that she 
 had chosen me as her companion, was a greater joy 
 than I had yet had reason to expect; but it would 
 have been a more satisfying joy if she had asked me 
 in her own house and not in Mildred s; if she had not 
 allowed the love which I hoped was growing up 
 
188 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 
 
 between her and me to interfere with the revival of 
 the old friendship between Mildred and me. 
 
 But when we returned to the library Mildred was 
 sitting at a table with a book before her, opened at 
 the passage I wanted. 
 
 "I have just found it," she said with a smile. 
 " Draw up a chair, and we will look over these maps 
 together. I want you to show me how he travelled 
 when he left his ship." 
 
 " Well, if you two are going to the pole," said Janet, 
 with her prettiest smile, " I will go back to my novel." 
 
 She did not seem in the least to object to my geo 
 graphical researches with Mildred, and if the latter 
 had even noticed my willingness to desert her at the 
 call of Janet, she did not show it. Apparently she 
 was as much a good comrade as she had ever been. 
 This state of things was gratifying in the highest 
 degree. If I could be loved by Janet and still keep 
 Mildred as my friend, what greater earthly joys could 
 I ask? 
 
 The drive with Janet was postponed by wet weather. 
 Day after day it rained, or the skies were heavy, and 
 we both agreed that it must be in the bright sunshine 
 that we would make this excursion. When we should 
 make it, and should be alone together on the rho 
 dodendron hill, I intended to open my soul to Janet. 
 
 It may seem strange to others, and at the time it 
 also seemed strange to me, but there was another 
 reason besides the rainy weather which prevented my 
 declaration of love to Janet. This was a certain 
 nervous anxiety in regard to my friendship for Mil 
 dred. I did not in the least waver in my intention to 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 189 
 
 use the best endeavors to make the one my wife, but 
 at the same time I was oppressed by a certain alarm 
 that in carrying out this project I might act in such a 
 way as to wound the feelings of the other. 
 
 This disposition to consider the feelings of Mildred 
 became so strong that I began to think that my own 
 sentiments were in need of control. It was not right 
 that while making love to one woman I should give 
 so much consideration to my relations with another. 
 The idea struck me that in a measure I had shared the 
 fate of those who had thrown the Hebrew youths into 
 the fiery furnace. My heart had not been consumed 
 by the flames, but in throwing the shadrach into what 
 I supposed were Mildred s affections it was quite 
 possible that I had been singed by them. At any rate 
 my conscience told me that under the circumstances 
 my sentiments toward Mildred were too warm; in 
 honestly making love to Janet I ought to forget them 
 entirely. 
 
 It might have been a good thing, I told myself, if I 
 had not given away the shadrach, but kept it as a gift 
 from Mildred. Very soon after I reached this con 
 clusion it became evident to me that Mildred -was 
 again cooling in my direction as rapidly as the mercury 
 falls after sunset on a September day. This discovery 
 did not make my mercury fall ; in fact, it brought it 
 for a time nearly to the boiling-point. I could not 
 imagine what had happened. I almost neglected 
 Janet, so anxious was I to know what had made this 
 change in Mildred. 
 
 Weeks passed on, and I discovered nothing, except 
 that Mildred had now become more than indifferent 
 
190 THE CHRISTMAS SHADEACH 
 
 to me. She allowed me to see that my companionship 
 did not give her pleasure. 
 
 Janet had her drive to the rhododendron hills, but 
 she took it with Dr. Gilbert and not with me. When 
 I heard of this it pained me, though I could not help 
 admitting that I deserved the punishment; but my 
 surprise was almost as great as my pain, for Janet 
 had recently given me reason to believe that she had 
 a very small opinion of the young doctor. In fact, 
 she had criticised him so severely that I had been 
 obliged to speak in his defence. I now found myself 
 in a most doleful quandary, and there was only one 
 thing of which I could be certain I needed cooling 
 toward Mildred if I still allowed myself to hope to 
 marry Janet. 
 
 One afternoon I was talking to Mr. Bronce in his 
 library, when, glancing toward the table used by his 
 daughter for writing purposes, I was astounded to see, 
 lying on a little pile of letters, the Christmas sha- 
 drach. As soon as I could get an opportunity I took it 
 in my hand and eagerly examined it. I had not been 
 mistaken. It was the paper-weight I had given 
 Mildred. There was the silver band around it, and 
 there was the place where a little piece had been 
 knocked off by the doctor. Mildred was not at home, 
 but I determined that I would wait and see her. I 
 would dine with the Bronces; I would spend the 
 evening; I would stay all night; I would not leave 
 the house until I had had this mystery explained. 
 She returned in about half an hour and greeted me in 
 the somewhat stiff manner she had adopted of late; 
 but when she noticed my perturbed expression and 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 191 
 
 saw that I held the shadrach in my hand, she took a 
 seat by the table, where for some time I had been 
 waiting for her, alone. 
 
 " I suppose you want to ask me about that paper 
 weight," she remarked. 
 
 "Indeed I do," I replied. "How in the world did 
 you happen to get it again?" 
 
 " Again? " she repeated satirically. " You may well 
 say that. I will explain it to you. Some little time 
 ago I called on Janet Clinton, and on her writing-desk 
 I saw that paper-weight. I remembered it perfectly. 
 It was the one you gave me last Christmas and after 
 ward borrowed of me, saying that you wanted to 
 analyze it, or something of the sort. I had never 
 used it very much, and of course was willing that you 
 should take it, and make experiments with it if you 
 wanted to, but I must say that the sight of it on Janet 
 Clinton s desk both shocked and angered me. I asked 
 her where she got it, and she told me a gentleman had 
 given it to her. I did not need to waste any words in 
 inquiring who this gentleman was, but I determined 
 that she should not rest under a mistake in regard to 
 its proper ownership, and told her plainly that the 
 person who had given it to her had previously given 
 it to me ; that it was mine, and he had no right to 
 give it to any one else. Oh, if that is the case/ she 
 exclaimed, take it, I beg of you. I don t care for it, 
 and, what is more, I don t care any more for the man 
 who gave it to me than I do for the thing itself. So 
 I took it and brought it home with me. NOAV you 
 know how I happened to have it again." 
 
 For a moment I made no answer. Then I asked 
 
192 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 her how long it had been since she had received the 
 shadrach from Janet Clinton. 
 
 "Oh, I don t remember exactly," she said; "it was 
 several weeks ago." 
 
 Now I knew everything; all the mysteries of the 
 past were revealed to me. The young doctor, fervid 
 in his desire to please the woman he loved, had given 
 Janet this novel paper-weight. From that moment 
 she had begun to regard his attentions with apathy, 
 and finally her nature was one which was apt to go 
 to extremes to dislike him. Mildred repossessed 
 herself of the shadrach, which she took, not as a gift 
 from Janet, but as her rightful property, presented to 
 her by me. And this horrid little object, probably 
 with renewed power, had cooled, almost frozen indeed, 
 the sentiments of that dear girl toward me. Then, 
 too, had the spell been taken from Janet s inclinations, 
 and she had gone to the rhododendron hills with Dr. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 One thing was certain. I must have that shadrach. 
 
 "Mildred," I exclaimed, "will you not give me this 
 paper-weight? Give it to me for my own? " 
 
 "What do you want to do with it?" she asked 
 sarcastically. "Analyze it again?" 
 
 "Mildred," said I, "I did not give it to Janet. I 
 gave it to Dr. Gilbert, and he must have given it to 
 her. I know I had no right to give it away at all, but 
 I did not believe that you would care ; but now I beg 
 that you will let me have it. Let me have it for my 
 own. I assure you solemnly I will never give it away. 
 It has caused trouble enough already." 
 
 "I don t exactly understand what you mean by 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 193 
 
 trouble," she said, "but take it if you want it. You 
 are perfectly welcome." And picking up her gloves 
 and hat from the table she left me. 
 
 As I walked home my hatred of the wretched piece 
 of metal in my hand increased with every step. I 
 looked at it with disgust when I went to bed that 
 night, and when my glance lighted upon it the next 
 morning I involuntarily shrank from it, as if it had 
 been an evil thing. Over and over again that day I 
 asked myself why I should keep in my possession 
 something which would make my regard for Mildred 
 grow less and less ; which would eventually make me 
 care for her not at all? The very thought of not 
 caring for Mildred sent a pang through my heart. 
 
 My feelings all prompted me to rid myself of what 
 I looked upon as a calamitous talisman, but my reason 
 interfered. If I still wished to marry Janet it was 
 my duty to welcome indifference to Mildred. 
 
 In this mood I went out, to stroll, to think, to 
 decide; and that I might be ready to act on my 
 decision I put the shadrach into my pocket. Without 
 exactly intending it I walked toward the Bronce place, 
 and soon found myself on the edge of a pretty pond 
 which lay at the foot of the garden. Here, in the 
 shade of a tree, there stood a bench, and on this lay a 
 book, an ivory paper-cutter in its leaves as marker. 
 
 I knew that Mildred had left that book on the 
 bench; it was her habit to come to this place to read. 
 As she had not taken the volume with her, it was 
 probable that she intended soon to return. But then 
 the sad thought came to me that if she saw me there 
 she would not return. I picked up the book ; I read the 
 
194 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 
 
 pages she had been reading. As I read I felt that I 
 could think the very thoughts that she thought as she 
 read. I was seized with a yearning to be with her, 
 to read with her, to think with her. Never had my 
 soul gone out to Mildred as at that moment, and yet, 
 heavily dangling in my pocket, I carried I could not 
 bear to think of it. Seized by a sudden impulse, I 
 put down the book; I drew out the shadrach, and, 
 tearing off the silver band, I tossed the vile bit of 
 metal into the pond. 
 
 " There ! " I cried. " Go out of my possession, out 
 of my sight! You shall work no charm on me. Let 
 nature take its course, and let things happen as they 
 may." Then, relieved from the weight on my heart 
 and the weight in my pocket, I went home. 
 
 Nature did take its course, and in less than a fort 
 night from that day the engagement of Janet and Dr. 
 Gilbert was announced. I had done nothing to pre 
 vent this, and the news did not disturb my peace of 
 mind; but my relations with Mildred very much dis 
 turbed it. I had hoped that, released from the baleful 
 influence of the shadrach, hex friendly feelings toward 
 me would return, and my passion for her had now grown 
 so strong that I waited and watched, as a wrecked 
 mariner waits and watches for the sight of a sail, for 
 a sign that she had so far softened toward me that I 
 might dare to speak to her of my love. But no such 
 sign appeared. 
 
 I now seldom visited the Bronce house ; no one of 
 that family, once my best friends, seemed to care to 
 see me. Evidently Mildred s feelings toward me had 
 extended themselves to the rest of the household. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHAD EACH 195 
 
 This was not surprising, for her family had long been 
 accustomed to think as Mildred thought. 
 
 One day I met Mr. Bronce at the post-office, and, 
 some other gentlemen coining up, we began to talk of 
 a proposed plan to introduce a system of water- works 
 into the village, an improvement much desired by 
 many of us. 
 
 " So far as I am concerned," said Mr. Bronce, "I am 
 not now in need of anything of the sort. Since I set 
 up my steam-pump I have supplied my house from 
 the pond at the end of my garden with all the water 
 we can possibly want for every purpose." 
 
 " Do you mean, " asked one of the gentlemen, " that 
 you get your drinking-water in that way? " 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mr. Bronce. "The basin of 
 the pond is kept as clean and in as good order as 
 any reservoir can be, and the water comes from an 
 excellent, rapid-flowing spring. I want nothing 
 better." 
 
 A chill ran through me as I listened. The sha- 
 drach was in that pond. Every drop of water which 
 Mildred drank, which touched her, was influenced by 
 that demoniacal paper-weight, which, without know 
 ing what I was doing, I had thus bestowed upon the 
 whole Bronce family. 
 
 When I went home I made diligent search for a 
 stone which might be about the size and weight of the 
 shadrach, and having repaired to a retired spot I 
 practised tossing it as I had tossed the bit of metal 
 into the pond. In each instance I measured the dis 
 tance which I had thrown the stone, and was at last 
 enabled to make a very fair estimate of the distance 
 
196 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 to which I had thrown the shadrach when I had 
 buried it under the waters of the pond. 
 
 That night there was a half-moon, and between 
 eleven and twelve o clock, when everybody in our 
 village might be supposed to be in bed and asleep, I 
 made my way over the fields to the back of the Bronce 
 place, taking with me a long fish-cord with a knot 
 in it, showing the average distance to which I had 
 thrown the practice stone. When I reached the pond 
 I stood as nearly as possible in the place by the bench 
 from which I had hurled the shadrach, and to this 
 spot I pegged one end of the cord. I was attired in 
 an old tennis suit, and, having removed my shoes and 
 stockings, I entered the water, holding the roll of cord 
 in my hand. This I slowly unwound as I advanced 
 toward the middle of the pond, and when I reached 
 the knot I stopped, with the water above my waist. 
 
 I had found the bottom of the pond very smooth, 
 and free from weeds and mud, and I now began feel 
 ing about with my bare feet, as I moved from side to 
 side, describing a small arc; but I discovered nothing 
 more than an occasional pebble no larger than a wal 
 nut. 
 
 Letting out some more of the cord, I advanced a 
 little farther into the centre of the pond, and slowly 
 described another arc. The water was now nearly 
 up to my armpits, but it was not cold, though if it 
 had been I do not think I should have minded it in 
 the ardor of my search. Suddenly I put my foot on 
 something hard and as big as my fist, but in an in 
 stant it moved away from under my foot; it must 
 have been a turtle. This occurrence made me shiver 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 197 
 
 a little, but I did not swerve from my purpose, and, 
 loosing the string a little more, I went farther into 
 the pond. The water was now nearly up to my chin, 
 and there was something weird, mystical, and awe- 
 inspiring in standing thus in the depths of this silent 
 water, my eyes so near its gently rippling surface, 
 fantastically lighted by the setting moon, and ten 
 anted by nobody knew what cold and slippery crea 
 tures. But from side to side I slowly moved, reaching 
 out with my feet in every direction, hoping to touch 
 the thing for which I sought. 
 
 Suddenly I set my right foot upon something hard 
 and irregular. Nervously I felt it with my toes. I 
 patted it with my bare sole. It was as big as the 
 shadrach! It felt like the shadrach. In a few 
 moments I was almost convinced that the direful 
 paper-weight was beneath my foot. 
 
 Closing my eyes, and holding my breath, I stooped 
 down into the water, and groped on the bottom with 
 my hands. In some way I had moved while stoop 
 ing, and at first I could find nothing. A sensation 
 of dread came over me as I felt myself in the midst 
 of the dark solemn water, around me, above me, 
 everywhere, almost suffocated, and apparently de 
 serted even by the shadrach. But just as I felt that 
 I could hold my breath no longer my fingers touched 
 the thing that had been under my foot, and, clutching 
 it, I rose and thrust my head out of the water. I 
 could do nothing until I had taken two or three long 
 breaths; then, holding up the object in my hand to 
 the light of the expiring moon, I saw that it was like 
 the shadrach; so like, indeed, that I felt that it must 
 be it. 
 
198 THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 
 
 Turning, I made my way out of the water as rapidly 
 as possible, and, dropping on my knees on the ground, 
 I tremblingly lighted the lantern which I had left 011 
 the bench, and turned its light on the thing I had 
 found. There must be no mistake; if this was not 
 the shadrach I would go in again. But there was no 
 necessity for re-entering the pond; it was the shadrach. 
 
 With the extinguished lantern in one hand and the 
 lump of mineral evil in the other, I hurried home. 
 My wet clothes were sticky and chilly in the night 
 air. Several times in my haste I stumbled over clods 
 and briers, and my shoes, which I had not taken time 
 to tie, flopped up and down as I ran. But I cared for 
 none of these discomforts ; the shadrach was in my 
 power. 
 
 Crossing a wide field I heard, not far away, the 
 tramping of hoofs, as of a horseman approaching at 
 full speed. I stopped and looked in the direction of 
 the sound. My eyes had now become so accustomed 
 to the dim light that I could distinguish objects some 
 what plainly, and I quickly perceived that the animal 
 that was galloping toward me was a bull. I well 
 knew what bull it was; this was Squire Starling s 
 pasture-field, and that was his great Alderney bull, 
 Ramping Sir John of Ramapo II. 
 
 I was well acquainted with that bull, renowned 
 throughout the neighborhood for his savage temper 
 and his noble pedigree son of Ramping Sir John 
 of Rampo I., whose sire was the Great Rodolphin, 
 son of Prince Maximus of Granby, one of whose 
 daughters averaged eighteen pounds of butter a week, 
 and who, himself, had killed two men. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 199 
 
 The bull, who had not perceived me when I crossed 
 the field before, for I had then made my way with as 
 little noise as possible, was now bent on punishing 
 my intrusion upon his domains, and bellowed as he 
 came on. I was in a position of great danger. With 
 my flopping shoes it was impossible to escape by 
 flight; I must stand and defend myself. I turned 
 and faced the furious creature, who was not twenty 
 feet distant, and then, with all my strength, I hurled 
 the shadrach, which I held in my right hand, directly 
 at his shaggy forehead. My ability to project a mis 
 sile was considerable, for I had held, with credit, the 
 position of pitcher in a base-ball nine, and as the 
 shadrach struck the bull s head with a great thud, he 
 stopped as if he had suddenly run against a wall. 
 
 I do not know that actual and violent contact with 
 the physical organism of a recipient accelerates the 
 influence of a shadrach upon the mental organism of 
 said recipient, but I do know that the contact of my 
 projectile with that bull s skull instantly cooled the 
 animal s fury. For a few moments he stood and 
 looked at me, and then his interest in me as a man 
 and trespasser appeared to fade away, and, moving 
 slowly from me, Ramping Sir John of Ramapo II. 
 began to crop the grass. 
 
 I did not stop to look for the shadrach; I consid 
 ered it safely disposed of. So long as Squire Star 
 ling used that field for a pasture, connoisseurs in 
 mineral fragments would not be apt to wander 
 through it, and when it should be ploughed, the sha 
 drach, to ordinary eyes no more than a common stone, 
 would be buried beneath the sod. I awoke the next 
 
200 THE CHRISTMAS SHAD RAG II 
 
 morning refreshed and happy, and none the worse 
 for my wet walk. 
 
 "Now," I said to myself, "nature shall truly have 
 her own way. If the uncanny comes into my life and 
 that of those I love, it shall not be brought in by me." 
 
 About a week after this I dined Avith the Bronce 
 family. They were very cordial, and it seemed to 
 me the most natural thing in the world to be sitting 
 at their table. After dinner Mildred and I walked 
 together in the garden. It was a charming evening, 
 and we sat down on the bench by the edge of the 
 pond. I spoke to her of some passages in the book I 
 had once seen there. 
 
 " Oh, have you read that? " she asked with interest. 
 
 "I have seen only two pages of it," I said, "and 
 those I read in the volume you left on this bench, 
 with a paper-cutter in it for a marker. I long to read 
 more and talk with you of what I have read." 
 
 "Why, then, didn t you wait? You might have 
 known that I would come back." 
 
 I did not tell her that I knew that because I was 
 there she would not have come. But before I left the 
 bench I discovered that hereafter, wherever I might 
 be, she was willing to come and to stay. 
 
 Early in the next spring Mildred and I were married, 
 and on our wedding trip we passed through a mining 
 district in the mountains. Here we visited one of 
 the great ironworks, and were both much interested 
 in witnessing the wonderful power of man, air, and 
 fire over the stubborn king of metals. 
 
 "What is this substance?" asked Mildred of one 
 
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH 201 
 
 of the officials who was conducting us through the 
 works. 
 
 "That/ said the man, "is what we call shad " 
 
 "My dear," I cried, "we must hurry away this 
 instant or we shall lose the train. Come; quick; 
 there is not a moment for delay." And with a word 
 of thanks to the guide I seized her hand and led her, 
 almost running, into the open air. 
 
 Mildred was amazed. 
 
 "Never before," she exclaimed, "have I seen you 
 in such a hurry. I thought the train we decided to 
 take did not leave for at least an hour." 
 
 " I have changed my mind, " I said, " and think it 
 will be a great deal better for us to take the one 
 which leaves in ten minutes." 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 IT was one o clock on a bright October day, and Mr. 
 Nathan Kinkle had just sat down to dinner, with 
 Mrs. Nicely Lent on the other side of the table. The 
 day was warm for the season, and Mr. Kinkle, having 
 been very busy since early morning, had a good 
 appetite. But he had barely made one deep cut in 
 the leg of mutton before him, when the door opened, 
 and a boy came in with an old straw hat in his hand. 
 He hesitated for a moment as if he thought he should 
 make some apology for breaking in upon the sanctity 
 of the dinner hour, and then he said : 
 
 " I ve just come to tell you that I think the Kev rend 
 Ezekiel Crump is dyin . He s all doubled up." 
 
 " Gracious ! " exclaimed Mr. Einkle, suddenly push 
 ing back his chair, "I must go out this minute! It s 
 the heat. I didn t count on it s bein so extra warm 
 to-day." And with this, he clapped on his hat and 
 left the house. 
 
 " Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Lent as she gazed at 
 the table which she had arranged with so much care. 
 " I suppose I might as well put these things by the 
 fire to keep em warm. There s no knowin when 
 he ll be back. I wish that boy Joe had kept away 
 
 202 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 203 
 
 until dinner was over. But I suppose it couldn t be 
 helped. It would never do to let the Eeverend 
 Ezekiel Crump die." 
 
 Nathan Einkle was a florist, and the Eeverend 
 Ezekiel Crump was a new and fine pelargonium which 
 had been originated by Mr. Einkle himself, and which 
 he had named for the reverend gentleman who had 
 married his father and mother and baptized him. 
 Mr. Einkle had often said that this good man s name 
 would be given to the finest new flower he should ever 
 grow; and as he did not believe he should produce 
 anything better than this pelargonium, the name was 
 given to it. 
 
 Nathan was a tall, slim, muscular bachelor of about 
 forty, industrious, and devoted to his profession, and 
 a respected member of society in the country region in 
 which he lived. Mrs. Lent, a well-nurtured lady, 
 whose age hovered around thirty-five, was the widow of 
 Mr. Einkle s former partner. The house belonged to 
 Mr. Einkle, and he, with Joshua Lent and his wife, 
 had lived in it very pleasantly and profitably five or 
 six years. When Joshua died three years ago this 
 autumn, Nathan was not the man to turn his widow 
 out of doors; so Mrs. Lent, who now owned a certain 
 share in the business, remained as housekeeper and 
 general domestic manager. And, thus far, the arrange 
 ment had been found pleasant and profitable to all 
 parties concerned. 
 
 It was half an hour before Mr. Einkle returned 
 from the greenhouse, and as Mrs. Lent had seen him 
 coming, the dinner was again on the table when he 
 entered. 
 
204 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 "It wasn t as bad as Joe thought it was," he said 
 as he took his seat at the table, "but it was bad 
 enough. I think I have been too careful with that 
 plant, a little too careful. I ve been sparing with the 
 water on it. I didn t want it to bloom too fast. I 
 wanted the three sprays I left on it to be absolutely 
 perfect for the flower show to-morrow, and I was so 
 busy this morning gettin the other things ready I 
 didn t look at the Eev rend Ezekiel, and as he was in 
 a pretty hot place for such a day, and too dry about 
 the roots, he began to wilt. But I think he is all 
 right now. I ve given him a good soakin and put 
 him in the shade, and he began to brighten up before 
 I left him.. I tell you, Mrs. Lent, that gave me a real 
 shock." 
 
 "As well it might," said the sympathetic Nicely. 
 
 That afternoon Mrs. Lent went out to the green 
 houses to look at the wonderful new pelargonium. 
 She found the reverend gentleman fully restored to 
 health, strength, and beauty, and she felt quite con 
 vinced that never had the eye of man rested upon so 
 grand arid glorious a pelargonium. And furthermore, 
 there could be no imaginable reason to doubt that on 
 the morrow Mr. Einkle would receive a first prize. 
 
 When Mr. Rinkle, with his lantern, came in from 
 the greenhouses that evening, he told Mrs. Lent that 
 he should go out several times during the night to see 
 if everything was all right; and that he should leave 
 very early in the morning for the town about ten miles 
 away where the flower show was to be held. "I m 
 going to send Joe off with one wagon at daylight, and 
 then, as soon as I can get off, I shall follow with the 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 205 
 
 other wagon, which won t be more than half full; so 
 I m goin ? to stop at the Widow Sharp s and take along 
 the plants she s got to show, for she hasn t any way 
 of gettin* them there herself." 
 
 * Do you mean, " asked Nicely, somewhat anxiously, 
 "that you are going before breakfast?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Nathan; "and as I ve got to stop 
 at the Widow Sharp s anyway, I ll breakfast there." 
 
 " And I suppose, of course, that you ll take Rev rend 
 Ezekiel Crump with you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed," answered Nathan. "You may 
 be sure that I ll take charge of that plant. That 
 pelargonium is going to make a commotion at the 
 show I can tell you. I ve got a lot of young plants of 
 it, but I didn t expect I d have one in bloom this year. 
 This one is a little spindlin , it is true, but he has got 
 three sprays of flowers which are finer than anybody 
 has ever yet seen on a pelargonium plant." 
 
 "I am so glad," said Mrs. Lent, "that you are able 
 to exhibit it so much sooner than you expected to. 
 That ought to be a good thing for you." 
 
 "I ve no doubt it will be," said Nathan, taking up 
 his candle. 
 
 "I ll leave Gottlieb Stein in charge of the green 
 houses to-morrow, and I ll tell him to come up to the 
 house now and then to see if you want anything. 
 He ll come to work at seven o clock, and I ll see 
 him before I go. Goodnight." 
 
 In the early dawn of the next morning, the boy Joe 
 started for the show with the gray mare and a well- 
 loaded wagon; and at seven o clock Nathan Kinkle be 
 gan to be impatient for the coming of his chief assistant, 
 
206 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 Gottlieb Stein, who lived about a mile away. He 
 wanted him to put the brown horse to the covered 
 wagon, in a back corner of which the Reverend Ezekiel 
 Crump was to travel, carefully protected from the cool 
 morning air; and he had many directions to give his 
 assistant for the conduct of his establishment during 
 the day. It was seldom that Gottlieb was late in 
 coming to his work, and Nathan was much annoyed 
 that he should happen to be so on this most important 
 occasion. 
 
 After fuming and fretting for at least a quarter of 
 an hour as he walked up and down the principal green 
 house, gathering together the plants he intended to 
 take to the show, the thought struck him that possibly 
 Gottlieb might have forgotten what was to be the great 
 business of the day, and had gone to work in some of 
 the other houses. So he hastily ran out to look for 
 him. Nathan opened the doors of two other green 
 houses, looked in and called, but the man was not in 
 either of them ; then he ran over to the violet house, 
 which was newer than the other buildings and at some 
 distance from them. Mr. Kinkle did not find there 
 the man he wanted to see, but he found something he 
 did not want to see, and that was that a number of the 
 violet beds were very much in need of water. 
 
 " Confound it ! " he ejaculated. " Here is a piece 
 of forgetfulness. And while I m waiting for that 
 fellow I might as well be freshening up these beds." 
 And taking up a watering-pot he proceeded to the 
 cistern. 
 
 This reservoir, supplied with rain-water from the 
 roof, was simply a wide .hole in the central part of 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 207 
 
 the house about nine feet deep. It had been dug in a 
 bed of clay, and the inside of it had not yet been 
 walled up or cemented, for as Mr. Einkle had found 
 that its clay sides and bottom were impervious to 
 water, and it made a very good cistern as it was, for 
 the present he had postponed finishing it. As the 
 cistern was yet uncovered no pump had been placed in 
 it, and Gottlieb had found it easy enough to draw 
 water from it by means of a bucket and rope. So 
 now, as he had to take Gottlieb s place, Nathan E inkle 
 crouched down to the edge of the cistern and lowered 
 the bucket. Gottlieb Stein was a heavy-footed man, 
 and had crouched at that spot so often that the earth 
 was a little depressed and inclined cisternward, and 
 Mr. Einkle s overshoes being wet with the morning 
 dew were slippery. In consequence, before the bucket 
 was half-way down, Mr. Einkle slipped into the cistern 
 himself, and arrived with a great splash at the bottom. 
 Plunged thus suddenly into darkness and water the 
 good gardener s surprise almost took away his breath. 
 Fortunately, he came down in a standing position, and 
 as soon as he was able to command his senses he dis 
 covered that, although a good deal jarred, he had not 
 been hurt. He also discovered, to his great surprise, 
 that the water was very low, and that it did not come 
 up to the top of the rubber overshoes which he wore 
 to protect the well-blacked boots he had put on for 
 the flower show. The season had been dry, and but 
 little rain had run into the cistern, and it might be 
 that the difficulty of dipping with a bucket in two or 
 three inches of water would explain Gottlieb s remiss- 
 ness in the matter of watering the violets. 
 
208 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 Nathan s first impulse was to wade around the sides 
 of the cistern and endeavor to find some means of 
 climbing out. This was instinctively natural, but 
 impossible. The walls, although not quite perpen 
 dicular, were smooth and slippery. 
 
 Then, at the top of his voice, Nathan began to call 
 for help, but after indulging in this exercise for some 
 time he was forced to admit to himself that it was 
 useless. The door of the violet house was shut, and 
 as it was at a considerable distance from any other 
 building, it was not at all likely that he could make 
 anybody hear him until Gottlieb, not finding his 
 employer anywhere else, should come to that building 
 to look for him. 
 
 Nathan s anger more than filled the cistern. He 
 was. not a swearing man, but if the dilatory Gottlieb 
 could have heard the threats of his employer and could 
 have seen the clenched fist he shook in the air, he 
 would probably have been afraid to go to his assis 
 tance. But as he could do nothing but wait, Nathan 
 thought he might wait as comfortably as possible, so 
 he laid hold of the bucket, and, turning it bottom 
 upward, sat down upon it. He drew his coat-tails over 
 his knees, and as his feet were protected by his over 
 shoes, he was ena,bled to sit thus without getting wet. 
 
 It was not cold in the cistern for the air was tem 
 pered by the greenhouse atmosphere above, and al 
 though it was very damp, Mr. Einkle did not mind 
 that. He had passed so many years of his life in 
 moist glass houses, going from their heat out into 
 the cold and dampness of the outer air without any 
 change of clothing, that his skin had become tough 
 
THE REVEREND EZEK1EL CRUMP 209 
 
 and hardened, and lie never thought of such a thing 
 as taking cold. As he sat thus and considered his 
 misfortunes he was still very angry, but he did not 
 despair. Even if Gottlieb did not make his appear 
 ance until eight o clock it would be time enough for 
 him to start with his flowers for the show ; and so he 
 sat and sat until, as his sleep had been very much 
 broken the night before, he fell into a doze. With 
 his hands folded in his lap, and his chin on his 
 breast, he slept as he had often done during the night 
 watches in his greenhouses. 
 
 While Mr. Einkle slept Mrs. Nicely Lent was at 
 work in her kitchen. She was a pleasant-looking 
 woman of a cheerful temperament, and yet as she 
 worked she heaved a little sigh. Her breakfast was 
 over and she was preparing the mince meat for the 
 first mince pie of the season, and was doing it with 
 great care, for Mr. Kinkle was fond of mince pies and 
 would gladly welcome this unexpected harbinger of 
 the season of good eating. 
 
 Moreover, it was Mrs. Lent s birthday, and she 
 saw no better way of celebrating it than in making 
 something good for Mr. Kinkle. It was quite certain 
 that no one would think of making anything good for 
 her. In no way was it a very joyful anniversary, 
 for it is lonelier to be lonely on one s birthday than 
 on any other day. Even her little maid Elizabeth 
 was absent on a visit to her parents, and Gottlieb, 
 whose own good nature even if Mr. Kinkle had not 
 told him to do so should have prompted him to 
 come to the house to see if he were needed, had not 
 made his appearance. 
 
210 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 "I suppose," thought Mrs. Nicely, "that Mr. Rinkle 
 had a good breakfast at Mrs. Sharp s, for she expected 
 him, and it may be for she is quite forward enough 
 for that sort of thing that she has persuaded him to 
 take her to the flower show." And here there came 
 a little sigh. "But if he s done that he s done it," 
 she reflected, "and there s no help for it. But I shall 
 put off dinner, and won t have it till he comes home, 
 and then he shall have his mince pie, nice and hot, 
 as he likes it." 
 
 She was turning over the mince meat with a fork, 
 looking for such pieces of suet as might be large 
 enough to be picked out. " Mince pies do not agree 
 with him very well," she said to herself, "but he is 
 very fond of them, and I will take out as much suet 
 as I can and put in a little more brandy. I don t 
 think he will notice it, and it will make them more 
 wholesome." 
 
 Her fork now brought up a large raisin, and she 
 held it for a moment, thinking it might be better to 
 cut it in half before putting it back. Mr. Einkle was 
 very fond of raisins, but to agree with him they ought 
 to be thoroughly cooked. Nicely Lent was a woman 
 who had tender sympathies and pleasant memories, 
 and, as she sat with the raisin still upon her fork, she 
 thought of other birthdays that had been so different 
 from this. She did not mind on ordinary mornings 
 being left alone in the house, but this morning it was 
 indeed depressing to be there without a soul to speak 
 to her. She could imagine Mr. Kinkle in all the 
 brightness and gladness of the flower show; she could 
 hear the delightful admiration provoked by the Kever- 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 211 
 
 end Ezekiel Crump, in whom she felt almost a maternal 
 pride; and she thought, with a pang, that perhaps 
 the Widow Sharp was at that moment making herself 
 officious by dilating to the bystanders upon the merits 
 of this grand pelargonium. And here was she, sit 
 ting alone in her kitchen ! As she thought thus, and 
 of her other birthdays, a large tear trickled down her 
 cheek and dropped upon the raisin. 
 
 This aroused her to a sense of the present. It 
 would not do to put a raisin that had been cried upon 
 into a pie, and she was about to throw it away. But 
 she hesitated; that tear had been evoked by sweet 
 memories of the past. It seemed like a sacrilege to 
 throw it away. She took the raisin gently from the 
 fork, and, going to the window, made a little hole in 
 the mould of a pot of mignonette which Mr. Eiukle 
 had given her, and buried the raisin therein. It 
 suited her to think that the little rootlets of the 
 mignonette would take up that tear. She put her 
 nose to the delicate blossoms of the plant and then 
 she returned to her work. 
 
 If Mrs. Lent had known that the day before had 
 been Gottlieb Stein s birthday, and that he was now 
 in bed at home sleeping off the effects of a large sup 
 per, which in honor of the anniversary had been given 
 to some chosen friends, she would have hastened to 
 the greenhouses to see if they needed any attention 
 in regard to warmth or ventilation; and she would 
 have discovered Mr. Binkle s sorry plight, and her 
 hands would have borne him a ladder. 
 
 If Mr. Kinkle had known of Gottlieb s birthday 
 supper and its consequences he would not so fre- 
 
212 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 quently and with, such drowsy content have renewed 
 his naps, thinking each time that he half opened his 
 eyes that they had been closed but for a minute t>r 
 two, and not imagining that his nature was repaying 
 itself the several hours of sleep of which he had 
 deprived it the night before. 
 
 It was nearly noon when along a path which led 
 from a handsome house upon a hillside half a mile 
 away a young lady appeared walking briskly toward 
 the Rinkle greenhouses. A more charming girl is 
 seldom seen on a bright October morning, or, indeed, 
 upon any other morning. 
 
 At this same time there walked along the crest of 
 the hills on the other side of the narrow valley in 
 which the greenhouses lay a young man with a stick 
 under his arm, who had started out for a long country 
 tramp. But as he turned his head to gaze upon the 
 bright autumnal scenery beneath him he suddenly 
 stopped. 
 
 " Upon my word, " he exclaimed aloud, "I believe 
 that is Clara. Yes, truly, it is she. She is going 
 down to Nathan Rinkle s greenhouses. What glori 
 ous good luck. I wonder if I can get there before 
 her." 
 
 There was really no doubt upon this subject, for 
 the young man ran down the hill, vaulted over a 
 fence, crossed a brook, and, hurrying through the 
 Rinkle apple orchard, reached the nearest greenhouse 
 in a surprisingly short time. He had been there for 
 nearly five minutes, walking up and down, smelling 
 some flowers without perceiving their scent, and look 
 ing at others without noticing their color, when the 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 213 
 
 door opened and the young lady entered. His astute 
 mind had rightly divined that she would go into the 
 house first reached by the path. 
 
 With outstretched hand he advanced to meet her, 
 and took no pains to conceal his delight in doing so. 
 She was surprised, and all the prettier for that. 
 
 "I have come," she said, as she offered him her 
 hand, " to get this basket filled with flowers. But Mr. 
 Kinkle is not here, I believe." 
 
 "No," said the young man. "Will you wait for 
 him here, or shall we go and look for him?" 
 
 "Oh, I will go and look for him," she said, "but 
 don t let me trouble you, Mr. Hatfield." 
 
 " Trouble ! " he exclaimed. " As if it were possi 
 ble." And they went out together. 
 
 Young Leonard Hatfield was not the avowed lover 
 of Miss Knightley, but the only reason for this was 
 that he had never yet had an opportunity of avowing 
 his passion for her. He had adored her for what 
 seemed to him a very long time, but never in her 
 father s mansion on the hill, on the tennis-grounds, 
 or in the houses of friends, had he found the moment 
 he had longed for. Now it seemed to him that it had 
 come. He would have been glad to open his heart to 
 her in that quiet greenhouse among the flowers, but 
 she was in such a hurry to leave it she gave him no 
 time. 
 
 The two now entered the next greenhouse, but 
 they found no one there. Leonard was in favor of 
 waiting there until some one came, but Clara would 
 not agree to that; she thought it better to go find 
 some one. 
 
214 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 They now went into the principal greenhouse, and 
 near the door stood a number of plants covered with 
 beautiful blossoms, and prominent among these was 
 the Reverend Ezekiel Crump. 
 
 Clara was a great lover of flowers. "What a per 
 fectly beautiful pelargonium this is ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Oh, if I could have one of those sprays. I wish I 
 could find some one to attend to me." 
 
 "I don t think Mr. Kinkle or any of his men are 
 here, " said Leonard, after walking to the other end of 
 the house and calling several times, " but here is some 
 one who can attend to you. Let me cut off this spray 
 and give it to you. I shall be so glad to do it," and 
 he took a knife from his pocket. 
 
 "Oh, no, no," exclaimed Clara, stretching out her 
 hand toward him. "You must not do it, I am sure 
 that this is a rare flower, and very likely Mr. Einkle 
 intends to take it to the flower show at Marston, 
 which opens to-day." 
 
 "Oh no," said Leonard, quite confidently. "He 
 has taken his flowers there long before this. I have 
 no doubt he had a lot of this sort of pelargonium, 
 more than he wanted, and he left this one." 
 
 Clara was examining the flower with great interest. 
 " I must find out about this," she said. " I never saw 
 anything like it. Just look at this spray with five 
 great blossoms on it, each of them nearly three inches 
 in diameter ! And what exquisite blending of crim 
 son, pink, and cream. I wonder what it is called." 
 She stooped and read the name of the plant which was 
 written on a wooden label stuck into the earth of the 
 pot. " How utterly absurd ! " she exclaimed, laugh- 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 215 
 
 ing. "This perfectly beautiful thing is named the 
 Keverend Ezekiel Crump." 
 
 She laughed again, and Leonard laughed with her. 
 But he did not intend to waste his time in merriment j 
 his mind was bent on earnest work. Here was a 
 chance to speak which he must not lose. 
 
 " Miss Knightley," he said, " if you will accept from 
 me this new and most beautiful flower, it will give me 
 a pleasure as new and beautiful as " 
 
 "Oh, you mustn t do it," she cried. "Don t touch 
 it, please. I must ask Mr. E-inkle about it, or his 
 man, if he isn t here." And, without further words, 
 she turned and left the house. 
 
 Leonard followed her, disappointed and annoyed. 
 Miss Knightley s abrupt manner showed him that she 
 did not wish to give him the opportunity to speak to 
 her of the new and beautiful pleasure to which he had 
 alluded. But he did not intend to give up the 
 attempt, and he was quickly at her side. 
 
 "There is only one other place they can be," she 
 said, "they must be in the violet house." 
 
 Leonard did not wish to hurry to the violet house, 
 or to any other house where they might expect to find 
 people. 
 
 "Miss Knightley," said he, "suppose we go there 
 by this broad walk which leads around the gardens. 
 That footpath is very narrow, and may be wet." 
 
 "Oh, this leads straight to the house," said she, 
 "and that one goes ever so far around." And she 
 immediately took the narrow footwalk. 
 
 When following a lady along a path wide enough 
 for only one, and bordered by tall grass and bushes, it 
 
216 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 is not often convenient to propose marriage to her, 
 especially if she be walking very fast. But Leonard 
 followed Miss Knightley resolutely. If it were 
 necessary he would walk home with her. 
 
 This day he would certainly finish what he had be 
 gun to say to her. 
 
 "I declare," said Miss Knightly, when she had pro 
 ceeded nearly to the middle of the violet house, 
 " there is nobody here. I certainly expected to find 
 some one in this place." 
 
 "And most happy am I," said Leonard, stepping 
 close to her, "that there is nobody here; for this gives 
 me a chance to tell you, Clara, that I love you; for, 
 with all my heart and soul, I have long loved you, 
 and I cannot wait any longer to tell you so." In his 
 excitement he took hold of her left hand, her right 
 being occupied with her basket. 
 
 Mr. Einkle awakened when he heard the door of 
 the violet house open. In an instant he was sitting 
 up alert, and with every sense at its sharpest. "It 
 must be after eight o clock," he said to himself, "and 
 that rascal has just come. I ll pay him well for this. 
 But I ll wait until he comes nearer, and first give him 
 a good fright." 
 
 Prepared to give a howl which might come from a 
 wild demon of the depths, Nathan sat, leaning for 
 ward and ready to spring to his feet when the mis 
 creant Gottlieb should be near enough. But, suddenly, 
 his mood changed. " There are the footsteps of two 
 persons," he thought, "and I hear the rustling of a 
 dress. One must be a woman." Then hearing Clara s 
 exclamation his heart sank. "It is Miss Knightley," 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 217 
 
 he said to himself, "and some one with her. Oh, 
 dear me, I must not let them know I am here. If 
 she should go home and tell her father she found me 
 down a cistern I d never hear the end of it. He d 
 laugh at me as long as he lives." So, crouching down 
 as low as possible, Mr. Einkle remained perfectly 
 quiet, hoping that these untimely visitors might soon 
 leave the house. But the next moment he heard 
 Leonard s avowal of his love. 
 
 "My conscience," thought Nathan, holding his 
 breath in amazement. " It s that young Hatfield mak 
 ing love to her. How very embarrassing. Oh dear! 
 Oh dear ! It would be awful if they knew I was so 
 close to them." But, in spite of his embarrassment, 
 Nathan did not put his fingers in his ears. His heart 
 had never beat so quickly ; he had never been more 
 interested. 
 
 Leonard continued : "Clara," he said, speaking ear 
 nestly and rapidly, "may I love you? Can I hope 
 that you will love me! Oh, do not think of going 
 away. There is nothing in the world so important 
 as what I am saying to you." 
 
 Clara had looked toward the door, but whether she 
 contemplated a retreat to it, or whether she glanced 
 through its glass panes in the fear that some one 
 might be approaching, Leonard could not tell; but 
 she saw no one, and it was impossible to retreat, so 
 tightly was her hand held. She turned her head from 
 the door, and bent her eyes on the ground. 
 
 " Oh, Clara ! " he exclaimed, " will you not speak to 
 me? Will you not look at me?" 
 
 She did not speak, but she looked up at him. That 
 was enough. 
 
218 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 "How very embarrassing/ thought Mr. Einkle, his 
 ears expanding like opening calla lilies, and his 
 heart beating faster in his excited interest. "She 
 must have agreed, for they surely are kissin . Yes, 
 I can hear em, and most likely huggin . Mercy on 
 me! It s lucky they don t know I m here. How 
 dreadful it would be if they should even hear me 
 breathe ! " And as this thought came to him he 
 pressed his lips tightly together. 
 
 " Oh happy, happy day ! " cried Leonard. " Oh 
 glorious world! Oh darling Clara my own for 
 ever." 
 
 " Dear me ! Dear me ! " thought Mr. Einkle. " How 
 warmed up he is ! And I m not surprised. I wonder 
 if he really is holdin her in his arms. Yes, he must 
 be. That was another kiss." 
 
 Some calla lilies are so large that it was impossible 
 for Mr. Einkle s ears to rival their dimensions, but 
 they did their best. 
 
 "And you really are mine forever and always?" 
 asked the ardent lover. 
 
 And into the violet-perfumed air of the greenhouse 
 there was breathed the one word "Yes." 
 
 "There," thought Mr. Einkle, "that is the first 
 thing she has said. But, to be sure, he hasn t given 
 her much chance. What! Again and again! I 
 almost wish they would go away. This is getting to 
 be very embarrassing." 
 
 "Come, darling," said Leonard, "let us go. And 
 nothing shall now prevent my giving that loveliest 
 flower to the loveliest woman on earth. It shall be 
 my first present to her, and a fit one. She shall carry 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 219 
 
 home my love, and with it the finest spray of blos 
 soms from the Eeverend Ezekiel Crump." 
 
 "Don t you do it! " screamed Mr. Kinkle, springing 
 to his feet. "Don t you touch it! I m going to take 
 that flower to the show. I wouldn t have it spoiled 
 for the world." 
 
 There was a scream from Clara; a shout from 
 Leonard. Then the young lady began to tremble, 
 and sat down on the floor. Her lover assisted her to 
 lean back against one of the supports of the violet 
 beds, and then, seeing that she had not really fainted, 
 he sprang to the open mouth of the cistern. There, 
 a little below the surface of the floor, he saw the pale 
 face of Mr. Kinkle, who was standing on the bucket. 
 
 "I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Hatfield," said the 
 trembling florist, dismayed at what he had done, " and 
 I vow to you that I wouldn t have heard a word you ve 
 been say in if it had been possible for me to sink any 
 deeper into the bowels of the earth. There is a ladder 
 at the far end of the greenhouse, and if you ll put 
 that down here, Mr. Hatfield, I ll come up and tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 Leonard was so amazed, so shocked, and so angry 
 that he could find no words in which to reply to this 
 apparition in the cistern, but he brought the ladder, 
 and very soon the florist was standing before him and 
 Clara, who had now risen to her feet. 
 
 "This is very embarrassing," said Mr. Kinkle, his 
 hands clasped before him. 
 
 "Now then," cried Leonard, fiercely, "none of that 
 nonsense. I got you out to hear what you had to say 
 about this contemptible piece of business." 
 
220 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 Mr. Binkle looked first at the angry young man and 
 then at the pale Clara, and told everything just as it 
 had happened. "You see," said he in conclusion, "I 
 kept so very quiet, thinkin to frighten Gottlieb, that 
 you two began speakin in a way that might be 
 called confidential before I had time to let you know 
 there was some one else in the greenhouse; and then 
 I didn t like to speak out because I knew it would 
 embarrass you so dreadfully, and I felt at any mo 
 ment you might be on the p int of go in away. As 
 for me, I assure you I never was so embarrassed since 
 the beginning of my days." 
 
 "Look here," exclaimed Leonard, "I want to know 
 if you heard everything we said? " 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed!" replied the good Nathan. 
 "There were times when I couldn t hear a word. 
 You see, I was at the very bottom of the cistern. 
 But of course I couldn t help understandin the drift 
 of the conversation, which seemed in a way to be 
 token that you two were engaged to be married." 
 
 Miss Knightley, whose color had come back to her 
 face, looked at Leonard; he looked at her, and they 
 both laughed. Mr. Einkle saw his opportunity and 
 extended a hand to each. " Let me congratulate you, " 
 he said; "and I beg from the bottom of my heart that 
 you won t mind an old fellow like me gettin by the 
 merest accident a hint of your engagement before any 
 body else. And you may trust me for never sayiii a 
 word to a livin soul about it; as far as that goes it 
 might have been one of them pots that was down the 
 cistern." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and Clara was the 
 
 first to speak. 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 221 
 
 " It is dreadfully embarrassing, as you say, Mr. 
 Rinkle, but it can t be helped now, and I am willing 
 to forgive you. But you must promise not only not 
 to mention our engagement until we are ready our 
 selves to announce it, but that you will never, never 
 to the end of your days, mention to a living soul that 
 you were anywhere near at the time it was made." 
 
 " Oh, bless me ! " cried Mr. Einkle. " I ll never do 
 that. It would make me the laughing stock of the 
 county." 
 
 "If I ever hear," said Leonard, "that this has 
 leaked out I shall make it my business that the peo 
 ple in this neighborhood shall never go into one of 
 your greenhouses without sending somebody ahead to 
 see who is in the cistern." 
 
 "Oh. you need have no fear of that," said Nathan. 
 "And now you must excuse me for leaving you so 
 abruptly. I must hurry off to the flower show. I 
 haven t my watch with me, but it must be a good 
 deal after eight o clock." 
 
 "After eight," exclaimed Leonard, taking out his 
 watch. "It is half-past twelve." 
 
 Mr. Rinkle stood aghast. " I must have slept the 
 whole morning," he said, wofully. "And that set 
 tles me at the flower show. The prizes were to be 
 given out at noon to-day, while things are fresh, and 
 there is no use in my thinking of going there at this 
 time. It is all up with me and my exhibition, at 
 least the best part of it." 
 
 An idea suddenly struck the florist. " Stay here, 
 please," he said, " I ll be back in a minute." And lie 
 ran out of the house. 
 
999 
 
 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 Iii a short time lie returned bearing in his hand the 
 largest spray of blossoms from the Reverend Ezekiel 
 Crump. "It s no use lettin em stay on till they re 
 withered," he said, "and as the plant can t enter for a 
 prize now, I ll let you, Mr. Hatfield, do what you 
 wanted to do, and give your lady a flower that no 
 other lady ever had before. If you knew how I d 
 worked and waited to get those blossoms, you d know 
 the value of them." 
 
 This extinguished the last spark of resentment in 
 Leonard s mind, and Mr. Rinkle considerately ab 
 sented himself during the presentation of the flowers. 
 
 It was evening; dinner was over, and Mr. Rinkle 
 pushed back his chair with an air of great content. At 
 his hasty luncheon, which he ate standing, and in a 
 perturbation of mind quite natural after what had 
 happened, he had merely stated to Mrs. Lent that 
 he had not gone to the flower show because Gottlieb 
 had not come to take charge. But now, during the 
 dinner, he had given Mrs. Lent a full account of 
 his misadventures, alluding to his rescue from the 
 cistern only by saying that Mr. Hatfield had hap 
 pened to come into the violet house and had helped 
 him out. 
 
 "That was a wonderfully good mince pie, Mrs. 
 Lent," he remarked, in his after-dinner serenity. 
 "There was never a better." 
 
 " If I had only known," said Mrs. Lent, "that while 
 I was making it you were down in that dreadful hole 
 how fast I would have run to you." 
 
 Mr. Rinkle crossed his legs and smiled. He was 
 in a state of great good humor. " I know you would, 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 22o 
 
 Mrs. Lent, I know you would. But, after all, per 
 haps it s just as well you didn t come." 
 
 She looked surprised. "Don t you think I could 
 have helped you out as well as anybody?" 
 
 " Of course you could. I wasn t thinking of that," 
 said Nathan, walking up and down the floor, and still 
 smiling. Suddenly he struck his hands together, and 
 then he took his hat from its peg. "Mrs. Lent," said 
 he, " don t clear away the dinner things. I ll be back 
 in a minute." 
 
 When he returned he brought with him the second 
 largest spray of flowers from the Reverend Ezekiel 
 Crump, bearing four great blossoms. 
 
 "Nicely," said he, "allow me to present to the 
 loveliest woman on earth, the loveliest flower, at least 
 of the pelargonium family, that was ever grown by 
 man." 
 
 Mrs. Lent stood up amazed. Never before had he 
 called her Nicely ; and what did he mean by bringing 
 her that almost sacred flower? " I don t understand," 
 she gasped. 
 
 "Nicely," he said, "may I love you? Will you 
 love me in return? Come now, don t look down or 
 think about doing kitchen work. There is nothing so 
 important as what I am saying to you." 
 
 She understood now. Flushing and trembling she 
 could not speak, but she looked up at him, and that 
 was enough. As for Nathan, he forgot nothing of 
 the lesson that he had learned. 
 
 It was an hour afterward. The room was in order, 
 and the two were sitting before the fire. He had just 
 finished giving her a full account of the interview he 
 
224 THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 
 
 had overheard between Miss Knightley and Mr. Hat- 
 field. " Of course I wouldn t have told you/ he said, 
 " so long as we were merely two good friends, but now 
 that we are the same as one, I couldn t help tellin 
 you. It s your right to know all I know." 
 
 The widow was so well aware of Nathan s desire to 
 tell things about people that a faint suspicion came 
 into her mind that perhaps he had proposed to her 
 because there was no other way in which he could 
 justify himself in telling her this wonderful bit of 
 news. But she dismissed the thought as an unworthy 
 one. 
 
 "After all," exclaimed the jubilant Nathan, "the 
 Eeverend Ezekiel Crump brought me a prize. He 
 brought me you." 
 
 Mrs. Lent looked at him inquiringly. "What had 
 he to do with it?" she said. 
 
 He turned a beaming face toward her. "Nicely," 
 said he, " if them two had gone away without knowing 
 I was in the cistern, and I d had to wait till Gottlieb 
 came and got me out, and that rascal didn t show him 
 self till two o clock this afternoon, there d been a 
 fight; and as he is a big fellow, and I d been a fiery 
 mad one, I wouldn t have been in a fit state this day 
 to make love to anybody. But it was the name of the 
 Keverend Ezekiel Crump that brought me bouncin to 
 my feet and got me out of that hole, while I was in such 
 a state of mind from hear in what I heard, and thinkin 
 about what I imagined that I was one tingle of glow in 
 excitement from my head that was in the air to my 
 feet that were in the water, and I kept thinkin and 
 thinkin about it, till early in the afternoon I made 
 
THE REVEREND EZEKIEL CRUMP 225 
 
 up my mind that as soon as I could get the day s work 
 done and dinner was over, I wouldn t wait any longer 
 to declare my love, just as young Hatfield couldn t 
 wait any longer to declare his." 
 
 "Nathan," said she, "did hearing those two talk 
 put this disposition into you?" 
 
 He thi ew one arm over the back of her chair. " No, 
 indeed, Nicely," he answered, " it only brought it out." 
 
 The next day Mr. Einkle went to the flower show 
 dressed in his best clothes, and wearing in his button 
 hole the remaining spray of blossoms from his new 
 pelargonium. His brother florists stared with amaze 
 ment at his adornment. " If you had brought yester 
 day the plant that bore that flower," one of them 
 exclaimed, "you would have gained a first prize." 
 
 "Oh I got prize enough," said Nathan, with an air 
 of superiority to floricultural distinctions, "and the 
 Eeverend Ezekiel Crump must wait till next year for 
 his turn." 
 
 Kortooofi 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. Berwick & Smith. 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
B 
 
 RIEF LIST of Books of Fiction Published 
 by Charles Scribner s Sons, 743-745 
 Broadway, New York. 
 
 William Waldorf Astor. 
 
 Valentino: An Historical Romance. i2mo, $1.00. Sforza : A 
 Story of Milan. I2mo, $1.50. 
 
 "The story is full of clear-cut little tableaux of medieval Italian 
 manners, customs and observances. The movement throughout is 
 spirited, the reproduction of bygone times realistic. Mr. Astor has 
 written a romance which will heighten the reputation he made by 
 Valentino. " The New York Tribune. 
 
 Arlo Bates. 
 
 A Wheel of Fire. i2mo, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The novel deals with character rather than incident, and is evolved 
 from one of the most terrible of moral problems with a subtlety not 
 unlike that of Hawthorne." The Critic. 
 
 Hjalmar H. Boyesen. 
 
 Falconberg. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. Gunnar. Sq. i2mo 
 paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. Tales from Two Hemispheres. 
 Sq. i2mo, $1.00. Ilka on the Hill Top, and Other Stories. 
 Sq. 121110, $1.00. Queen Titania. Sq. 12010, $1.00. Social 
 Strugglers. lamo, $1.25. 
 
 "Mr. Boyesen s stories possess a sweetness, a tenderness and a 
 drollery that are fascinating, and yet they are no more attractive than they 
 are strong." The Home Journal. 
 
 H. C. Bunner. 
 
 The Story of a New York House, Illustrated by A. B. Frost. 
 i2ino, 81.25. The Midge. i2mo, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 Zadoc Pine, and Other Stories. i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth 
 $1.00. 
 
 "It is Mr. Bunner s delicacy of touch and appreciation of what is 
 literary art that give his writings distinctive quality. Everything Mr. 
 Bunner paints shows the happy appreciation of an author who has not 
 alone mental discernment, but the artistic appreciation. The author and 
 the artist both supplement one another in this excellent Story of a New 
 York House. " The New York Times. 
 
SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 
 
 Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
 
 That Lass Lown e s. Illustrated. Paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $i 25. 
 Haworth s. Illustrated. 12010, $1.25. Through One Admin 
 istration. i2mo, $1.50. Louisiana. i2mo, $1.25. A Fair 
 Barbarian. i2mo, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. Vagabondia : 
 A Love Story. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. Surly Tim, 
 and Other Stories. i2mo, $1.25. Earlier Stories. First Series. 
 Earlier Stories. Second Series. 12010, each, paper, 50 cts.; 
 cloth, $1.25. The Pretty Sister of Jose. Illustrated by C. S. 
 Reinhart. 12010, $1.00. 
 
 Little Lord Fauntleroy. Sq. 8vo, $2.00. Sara Crewe. Sq. 
 
 8vo, $1.00. Little Saint Elizabeth, and Other Stories. 12010, 
 $1.50. Illustrated by R. B. Birch. 
 
 " Mrs. Burnett discovers gracious secrets in rough and forbidding 
 natures the sweetness that often underlies their bitterness the soul of 
 goodness in things evil. She seems to have ao iotuitive perceptioo of 
 character." RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. 
 
 William Allen Butler. 
 
 Domesticus. A Tale of the Imperial City. 121110, $1.25. 
 
 " Under a veil made intentionally transparent, the author maiotaios a 
 running fire of good-natured hits at contemporary social follies." The 
 New York Journal of Commerce. 
 
 George W. Cable. 
 
 The Grandissimes. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. Old 
 Creole Days. 12010, cloth, $1.25; also in two parts, paper, 
 each, 30 cts. Dr. Sevier. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. 
 Bonaventure. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; $1.25. 
 
 The set, 4 vols., $5.00. 
 
 " There are few living American writers who can reproduce for us more 
 perfectly thao Mr. Cable does, io his best moments, the speech, the 
 manners, the whole social atmosphere of a remote time and a peculiar 
 people. A delicious flavor of humor penetrates his stories." 
 
 The New York Tribune. 
 
 Rebecca Harding Dams. 
 
 Silhouettes of American Life. 121110, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "There are altogether thirteen stories in the volume, all writteo io that 
 direct, forcible style which is Mrs. Davis s distioctive merit as a producer of 
 fictioo." Boston Beacon. 
 
SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 3 
 
 Richard Harding Davis. 
 
 Gallegher, and Other Stories. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 The ten stories comprising this volume attest the appearance of a new 
 and strong individuality in the field of American fiction. They are of a 
 wide range and deal with very varied types of metropolitan character and 
 situation c ; but each proves that Mr. Davis knows his New York as well as 
 Dickens did his London. 
 
 Edward Egg lest on. 
 
 Roxy. The Circuit Rider. Illustrated. Each, 12010, $1.50. 
 
 "Dr. Eggleston s fresh and vivid portraiture of a phase of life and 
 manners, hitherto almost unrepresented in literature ; its boldly contrasted 
 characters, and its unconventional, hearty, religious spirit, took hold of the 
 public imagination." The Christian Union, 
 
 Erckmann-Chatrian . 
 
 The Conscript. Illustrated. Waterloo. Illustrated. Sequel to The 
 Conscript. Madame Therese. The Blockade of Phalsburg. 
 Illustrated. The Invasion of France in 1814. Illustrated. A 
 Miller s Story of the War. Illustrated. 
 
 The National Novels, each, $/.^5/ the sets, 6 vol., $7-jr0. 
 
 Friend Fritz. i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. 
 
 Eugene Field. 
 
 A Little Book of Profitable Tales. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 " This pretty little volume promises to perpetuate examples of a wit, 
 humor, and pathos quaint and rare in their kind." New York Tribune. 
 
 Harold Frederic. 
 
 Seth s Brother s Wife. 12010, $1.25. The Lawton Girl. 12010, 
 $1.25 ; paper, 50 cts. In the Valley. Illustrated. 12010, $1.50. 
 
 "It is almost reasonable to assert that there has not been since Cooper s 
 day a better American novel dealing with a purely historical theme than 
 In the Valley. " Boston Beacon. 
 
 James Anthony Fronde. 
 
 The Two Chiefs of Dunboy. An Irish Romance of the Last 
 Century. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The narrative is full of vigor, spirit and dramatic power. It will 
 unquestionably be widely read, for it presents a vivid and life-like study of 
 character with romantic color, and adventurous incident for the back 
 ground." The New York Tribune. 
 
4 SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 
 
 Robert Grant. 
 
 Face to Face. 12010, paper, 5octs.; cloth, $1.25. The Reflec 
 tions of a Married Man, i2mo ; paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " In the Reflections, Mr. Grant has given us a capital little book which 
 should easily strike up literary comradeship with The Reveries of a 
 Bachelor. " Boston Transcript, 
 
 Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 Philip Nolan s Friends, lllust d. 121110, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " There is no question, we think, that this is Mr. Hale s completest and 
 best novel." The Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Marion Harland. 
 
 Judith. i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. Handicapped. 
 i2mo, $1.50. With the Best Intentions. i2mo, cloth, $1.00; 
 paper, 50 cts. 
 
 " Fiction has afforded no more charming glimpses of old Virginia life 
 than are found in this delightful story, with its quaint pictures, its admir 
 ably drawn characters, its wit, and its frankness." 
 
 The Brooklyn Daily Times. 
 
 Joel Chandler Harris. 
 
 Free Joe, and Other Georgian Sketches. i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; 
 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The author s skill as a story writer has never been more felicitously 
 illustrated than in this volume." The New York Sun. 
 
 Augustus Allen Hayes. 
 
 The Jesuit s Ring: i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. 
 " The conception of the story is excellent." The Boston Traveller. 
 
 George A. Hibbard. 
 
 The Governor, and Other Stories. i2mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 
 
 50 cts. 
 
 "It is still often urged that, except in remote corners, there is nothing 
 in our American life which appeals to the artistic sense, but certainly these 
 stories are American to the core, and yet the artistic sense is strong in them 
 throughout. " Critic. 
 
 E. T. W . Hoffmann. 
 
 Weird Tales. With Portrait. 121110, 2 vols., $3.00. 
 
 11 All those who are in search of a genuine literary sensation, or who 
 care for the marvelous and supernatural, will find these two volumes fas 
 cinating reading." The Christian Union. 
 
SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 
 
 Dr. J. G. Holland. 
 
 Sevenoaks. The Bay Path, Arthur Bonnicastle. Miss Gilbert s 
 Career. Nicholas Minturn; Each, 121110, $1.25; the set, $0.25. 
 Sevenoaks and Arthur Bonnicastle. Each, paper, soc. 
 
 "Dr. Holland will always find a congenial audience in the homes of 
 culture and refinement. He does not affect the play of the darker and 
 fiercer passions, but delights in the sweet images that cluster around the 
 domestic hearth. He cherishes a strong fellow-feeling with the pure and 
 tranquil life in the modest social circles of the American people, and has 
 thus won his way to the companionship of many friendly hearts." 
 
 The New York 7^ribune. 
 
 Thomas A. Janvier. 
 
 Color Studies, and a Mexican Campaign. 121110, paper, 50 cts. ; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "Piquant, novel and ingenious, these little stories, with all their simplicity, 
 have excited a wide interest. The best of them, Jaune D Antimoine, is 
 a little wonder in its dramatic effect, its ingenious construction." Critic. 
 
 Andrew Lang. 
 
 The Mark of Cain* 12010, paper, 25 cts. 
 
 " No one can deny that it is crammed as full of incident as it will hold, 
 or that the elaborate plot is worked out with most ingenious perspicuity." 
 
 The Saturday Review. 
 
 George P. Latbrop. 
 
 Newport. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. An Echo of Passion. 
 121110, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. In the Distance. i2mo, 
 paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " His novels have the refinement of motive which characterize the 
 analytical school, but his manner is far more direct and dramatic." 
 
 The Christian Union. 
 
 Brander Matthews. 
 
 The Secret of the Sea, and Other Stories. i2mo, paper, 50 cts.; 
 
 cloth, $1.00. The Last Meeting. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 " Mr. Matthews is a man of wide observation and of much familiarity 
 with the world. His literary style is bright and crisp, with a peculiar 
 sparkle about it wit and humor judiciously mingled which renders his 
 pages more than ordinarily interesting." The Rochester Post-Express. 
 
 George Moore. 
 
 Vain Fortune. i2mo, $1.00. 
 
 <( How a woman s previous ideas and actions will completely change 
 when the medium of a wild, intense love is interposed, was never more 
 skilfully sketched." Boston Times. 
 
6 SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 
 
 Fit^-James O Brien . 
 
 The Diamond Lens, with Other Stories. i2mo, paper, 50 cts. 
 
 " These stories are the only things in literature to be compared with 
 Poe s work, and if they do not equal it in workmanship, they certainly do 
 not yield to it in originality." The Philadelphia Record. 
 
 Duffield Osborne. 
 
 The Spell of Ashtaroth. 121110, $1.00. 
 
 " It has a simple but picturesque plot, and the story is told in a vividly 
 dramatic way." Chicago Times. 
 
 Bliss Perry. 
 
 The Broughton House. 121110, $1.25. 
 
 " A wonderfully shrewd and vivid picture of life in one of our hill 
 towns in summer." Hartford Post. 
 
 Thomas Nelson Page. 
 
 In Old Virginia. Marse Chan and Other Stories. lamo, $1.25. 
 On Newfound River* 12010, $1.00. Elsket, and Other Stories. 
 i2mo, $1.00. Marse Chan. Ills. bySmedley. Sq.i2mo. $1.50. 
 
 "Mr. Page enjoys the distinction of having written the most exquisite 
 story of the war ( Marse Chan ), which has yet appeared. His stories 
 are beautiful and faithful pictures of a society now become a portion and 
 parcel of the irrevocable past." Harper s Magazine. 
 
 George I. Putnam. 
 
 In Blue Uniform. 121110, $1.00. 
 
 The author of this love story, who is an ex-army officer, has given a 
 very natural picture of garrison life in the Far West, with strong character 
 studies, and a sufficient diversity of incident to give movement and cumu 
 lative interest to the tale. 
 
 Saxe Holm s Stories. 
 
 First Series. Second Series. Each, 121110, paper, 5oc; cloth, $1 .00. 
 
 " Saxe Holm s characters are strongly drawn, and she goes right to the 
 heart of human experience, as one who knows the way. We heartily 
 commend them as vigorous, wholesome, and sufficiently exciting stories." 
 
 7" he Advance. 
 
SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 7 
 
 Stories from Scribner. 
 
 Stories of New York. Illustrated. From Four to Six, by Annie 
 Eliot ; The Commonest Possible Story, by Bliss Perry; The End of 
 the Beginning, by George A. Hibbard ; A Puritan Ingenue, by 
 John S. Wood ; Mrs. Manstey s View, by Edith Wharton. 
 
 Stories of the Railway: Illustrated. As the Sparks Fly Upward, 
 by George A. Hibbard; How I Sent My Aunt to Baltimore, by 
 Charles "S. Davison ; Run to Seed, by Thomas Nelson Page ; 
 Flandroe s Mogul, by A. C. Gordon. 
 /// Press: Stories of the South. Stories of Italy. 
 
 Stories of the Sea; Stories of the Army. 
 
 Illustrated. Each, i6mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, 75 cts.; half calf, $1.50. 
 
 The stories in these attractive little volumes are among the most 
 
 popular of those that have been published in Scribner s Magazine. " They 
 
 are daintily bound, and fully and beautifully illustrated. 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson. 
 
 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, i2mo, paper, 
 
 25 cts.; cloth, $1.00. Kidnapped. I2mo, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, 
 
 ill., $1.25. The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables. 
 
 i2mo, paper, 35 cts.; cloth, $1.00. New Arabian Nights; 
 
 i2mo, paper, 30 cts.; cloth, $1.00. The Dynamiter. i2mo, 
 
 paper, 30 cts.; cloth, $1.00. The Black Arrow. 111. i2mo, 
 
 paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. The Wrong Box. i2mo, paper, 
 
 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. The Master of Ballantrae. i2mo, paper, 
 
 50 cts.; cloth, ill., $1.25. The Wrecker. i2mo, ill., $1.25. 
 
 Island Nights Entertainments. i2mo, ill., $1.25. 
 
 "Stevenson belongs to the romantic school of fiction writers. He is 
 
 original in style, charming, fascinating, and delicious, with a marvelous 
 
 command of words, and with a manner ever delightful and magnetic. "_ 
 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 Charles Warren Stoddard. 
 
 South Sea Idyls. i2mo, $1.50. 
 
 "Brimful of delicious descriptions of South Sea Island life. Neither 
 Loti nor Stevenson has expressed from tropical life the luscious, fruity 
 delicacy, or the rich wine-like bouquet of these sketches." Independent. 
 
 T. R. Sullivan. 
 
 Day and Night Stories. First and Second Series. Each, i2mo, 
 
 cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. Roses of Shadow. i2mo, $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Sullivan s style is at once easy and refined, conveying most 
 
 happily that atmosphere of good breeding and polite society which is 
 
 indispensable to the novel of manners, but which so many of them 
 
 lamentably fail of." The Nation. 
 
SCRIBNER S BRIEF LIST OF FICTION. 
 
 Frederick J. Stimson (]. S. of Dale). 
 
 Guerndale. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. The Crime of 
 Henry Vane. 12010, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. The Senti 
 mental Calendar. 111. 12010, $1.00. First Harvest. 12010, 
 $1.25. The Residuary Legatee. 12010, paper, 35 cts.; cloth 
 $1.00. In the Three Zones. 12010, $1.00. 
 
 " No youog oovelist in this country seems better equipped thao Mr. 
 Stimson is." The Philadelphia Bulletin, 
 
 Frank R. Stockton. 
 
 Rudder Grange. 12010, paper, 60 cts.; cloth, $1.25; illustrated by 
 A. B. Frost, Sq. 12010, $2.00. The Late Mrs* Null. 12010, 
 paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. The Lady, or The Tiger? aod 
 Other Stones. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. The Christ 
 mas Wreck, aod Other Stories. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, 
 $1.25. The Bee-Man of Orn, aod pther Fanciful Tales. 12010, 
 cloth, $1.25. Amos Kilbright, with Other Stories. 12010, 
 paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.25. The Rudder Grangers Abroad, 
 aod Other Stories. 12010, paper, 50 cts ; cloth, $1.25. 
 u pf Mr. Stocktoo s stories what is there to say, but that they are an 
 unmixed blessing and delight? He is surely one of the most inventive of 
 talents, discovering not only a new kind in humor and fancy, but accumu 
 lating an inexhaustible wealth of details in each fresh achievement, the 
 least of which would be riches from another hand." W. D. HOWELLS. 
 
 Stories by American Authors. 
 
 Cloth, i6mo, jo cts. each ; set, 10 vols., $5.00; cabinet edition, 
 
 in sets only, $7.50. 
 
 " The public ought to appreciate the value of this series, which is pre 
 serving permaoeotly in American literature short stories that have con 
 tributed to its advancemeot," The Boston Globe. 
 
 Octave Thanet. 
 
 Expiation. Illustrated by A. B. Frost. 12010, paper, 50 cts.; 
 cloth, $1.00. Stories of a Western Town. 12010. Illustrated 
 by A. B. Frost. $1.25. 
 
 Octave Thaoet has in this oew book of Western stories a completely 
 fresh field, in which she has done her finest work. These stories portray 
 the types and conditions of life in the thriving, pushing towns of the great 
 Cential Western States with knowledge, sympathy and a fine literary art. 
 
 John T. Wheelwright. 
 
 A Child of the Century, 12010, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. 
 " A typical story of political aod social life, free from cyoicism of morbid 
 realism, and brimmiog over with fun." The Christian at Work. 
 

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