OUT OF TOWN 
 
 A RURAL EPISODE 
 
 BY BARRY GRAY 
 
 WITH ILL USTRA TIONS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 PUBLISHED BY KURD AND HOUGHTON 
 
 459 BROOMK STREET 
 
 1867
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
 
 KURD AND HOUQHTON, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT 
 
 H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
 
 PREFATORY AND DEDICATORY. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Gray," asked my estimable wife 
 early one morning, as she raised the sash and threw open 
 the blinds of the chamber-window, in our house in Merry- 
 field Place, " that the spring is here ? Observe how balmy 
 is the air, and see how the buds are swelling on the trees, 
 and the grass sending forth its green blades in the court 
 yard. Listen to the song of that bluebird, perched upon 
 the, swaying branch of the elm, and hearken, too, to the 
 buzzing of the early flies, enjoying the warm sunshine 
 on the window panes. Yes, the spring is here, my dear, 
 and we are on the verge, as the poet hath it, of the deli 
 cate-footed May ; and this reminds me oh ! sad anticli 
 max that you have not yet obtained a house for the com 
 ing year, and that, before ten days go by, unless you do, 
 we shall be homeless, having neither a shelter for, nor a 
 placa wherein to lay, our heads." 
 
 " I am fully aware of it, my dear," I replied ; " and I have 
 for the last month, as you are aware, travelled over the 
 greater part of the city searching for a proper residence, 
 without finding one. I have half-decided to look no 
 further " 
 
 " That would be just like you, Mr. Gray," interrupted 
 my wife ; " you would be willing to sit down quietly, with 
 folded hands, and let the future take care of itself."
 
 iv PREFATORY AND DEDICATORY. 
 
 " You are very much mistaken, my dear," I said, " if you 
 think so. What I was going to say was, that I was half- 
 decided to look no further for a house in the city ; but to 
 get one out of town. And, if it will please you, I will 
 do so." 
 
 My wife having expressed a decided approbation of this 
 plan, I continued : " Your quotation, my dear, from the poet 
 is so suggestive of the country that I wish we were there 
 at this moment. The phrase, delicate-footed May, is es 
 pecially good to employ if one lives in the country, or 
 even if he be a lounger among the city parks, and is given 
 to frequenting that Park of parks, the Central. But if he 
 be condemned, as most of our people are, to the purlieus 
 of brick and mortar, and only sees the parks as he rides 
 by in the over-crowded car, or the not less crowded omni 
 bus, it is not so appropriate. For May, in most cases, then 
 means moving time, when the year s Lares and Penates 
 are torn up by the roots, and the household gods are borne 
 from place to place, and, in the midst of much dirt, con 
 fusion, and anxiety, planted afresh in some new locality to 
 be again transferred when the next delicate-footed May 
 comes round. The approaching May promises to be un 
 usually fraught with annoyance. Houses to be let are re 
 markably rare, even at greatly advanced prices, and many 
 a family will find itself, on the first of May, without a shel 
 tering roof." 
 
 " That is so," said my wife, " and it would not surprise 
 me if we should be among the number." 
 
 " Persons," I continued, not heeding Mrs. Gray s inter 
 ruption, " who heretofore thought they could not live out 
 of town, will find it not only cheaper, but healthier and 
 pleasanter, to have a house in the country ; and, before
 
 PREFATORY AND DEDICATORY. v 
 
 the year goes round, will have come to understand and ap 
 preciate what our poet means when he says, The Spring 
 is here, the delicate-footed May. " 
 
 " Well, if you intend to get a place in the country," said 
 my wife, " I think you had better be about it, and not wait 
 until the first of May arrives." 
 
 "I have already been seeking a place," I replied; "and 
 among the pleasant spots which I visited, a few days since, 
 within an hour s ride of business, was the village of Ford- 
 ham, a quiet, unpretentious little place, nestled on and 
 among the hills, with sundry picturesque houses, and an air 
 of thrift pervading its people that was delightful to wit 
 ness. It is poetic ground, too ; for here Poe once lived, 
 and Drake wrote charmingly of the little river, the Bronx, 
 which flows through its precincts. Even now it is not with 
 out its literary representative, in the person of the author 
 of the tragedy of Sybil, John Savage, who dwells in a 
 most hospitable cottage, near St. John s College. And 
 this reminds me that there is also much classical knowl 
 edge contained in Fordham, as those who meet and con 
 verse with the grave and dignified priests who inhabit the 
 college will assuredly attest. It was pleasant to see those 
 scholastic-looking men, clad in their long black cassocks, 
 thoughtfully pacing, in the afternoon sunshine of that mild 
 spring-day, the neatly-kept walks of the college- ground ; 
 and to hear, wafted upon the balmy air, the musical sound 
 of the chapel bell ringing the Angelus. 
 
 " In company with my friend," I continued, " I visited 
 the little Dutch cottage where, in the spring of 1846, Poe 
 carried his young wife, Virginia, to die, and where he 
 passed the three remaining years of his life. It is a low- 
 roofed dwelling, scarcely over one story in height, for the
 
 vi PREFATORY AND DEDICATORY. 
 
 three narrow windows over the lowly porch are only a 
 pane of glass in width, and has suffered no change, save 
 such as Time has wrought, since Poe made it his home. 
 The clumps of rare dahlias and beds of mignonette which 
 once grew in its garden, are no longer there ; but the 
 cherry-trees, grown older by nineteen years, still throw 
 their sheltering arms above and around it ; and the de 
 scendants of the birds that used to sing to him from its 
 leafy coverts, doubtless yet build nests in its branches. A 
 favorite resort of the poet, which we visited, was a ledge of 
 rocky ground a little east of the cottage, partly covered 
 with pines and cedars, commanding a fine view of the sur 
 rounding country. Here, says Mrs. Whitman, through 
 long summer days, and through solitary, star-lit nights, he 
 loved to sit, dreaming his gorgeous waking dreams, or 
 pondering the deep problems of " The Universe " that 
 grand " prose-poem " to which he devoted the last and 
 maturest energies of his wonderful intellect. 
 
 " Filled with painful thoughts, my friend and myself 
 turned from this humble cottage, where Edgar Poe dwelt 
 with sorrow and remorse during the later years of his life, 
 and, passing to the banks of the Bronx, sought, amidst its 
 picturesque scenery, to find themes for less bitter fancies. 
 The water rippled over its rocky bed, and along its high 
 and sloping shores, with a musical cadence that brought 
 peace to our minds, and seemed to say that the spring 
 was here, even the delicate-footed May. " 
 
 " But, what about a house, Mr. Gray ? " my wife asked. 
 " Did you find one that would suit our purpose ? " 
 
 " Well," I replied, " I am not quite certain ; though, so 
 far as I am concerned, it is all that I would desire ; but 
 you, my dear, may think differently. I fear that you will
 
 PREFATORY AND DEDICATORY. v ii 
 
 deem it too small, and will be wanting me to put on all 
 kinds of additions, including wings, sub-cellars and attic- 
 stories." 
 
 "Any house will be better than none, my dear," my 
 wife said ; " and if you are satisfied with it, I think you had 
 better purchase it, and then we can add to or take away 
 from it, as we may desire." 
 
 " And 1 11 tell you what I 11 do," I said, " to help pay 
 for it. My publishers want another book of mine, and so 
 I 11 write an account of our life in the country, from spring 
 until mid-winter, and they shall publish it under the title 
 of OUT OF TOWN ; and I will dedicate it, my dear, to 
 you, and the dedication shall run in this wise : 
 
 TO 
 
 MY WIFE, 
 
 WHO, THROUGH SPRING-TIME AND HARVEST, SUMMER AND WINTER, FOR 
 
 MANY YEARS; IN JOY AND SORROW, SICKNESS AND HEALTH, 
 
 HAS BEEN TO ME A SOLACE AND SUPPORT, MORE 
 
 THAN WORDS OF MINE CAN TELL, OR 
 
 DEEDS CAN VERIFY, 
 
 THIS VOLUME, 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF A RURAL EPISODE IN OUR JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE, 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 
 
 FORDHAM, N. Y., July 25iA, 1866.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGH 
 
 PREFATORY iii 
 
 I. MR. GRAY GOES INTO THE COUNTRY . . 1 
 II. WOODBINE COTTAGE, AND MATTERS THERETO 
 
 PERTAINING 6 
 
 III. A POULTRY CONVENTION CONVENES BEFORE MB. 
 
 GRAY S COTTAGE 13 
 
 IV. MR. GRAY BUYS AND LOSES A BLACK-AND-TAN 
 
 HEN 20 
 
 V. MR. GRAY AND FAMILY GO A-FISHING . . 25 
 
 VI. FOURTH OF JULY 31 
 
 VII. A LITERARY YOUNG LADY COMES TO WOODBINE 
 
 COTTAGE 36 
 
 VIII. A NIGHT ATTACK 41 
 
 IX. AN ASSEMBLAGE OF ARTIST FRIENDS . . 50 
 X. THE " FLAG OF FREEDOM " REPORTS THEIR 
 
 DOINGS 56 
 
 XI. ROBBERY OF MR. GRAY S MELON PATCH . 62 
 
 XII. MR. GRAY PURCHASES A GOAT .... 69 
 
 XIII. THE GOAT GETS INTO THE POUND ... 76 
 
 XIV. A REMINISCENCE 81 
 
 XV. THREE GOOD THINGS AT WOODBINE COTTAGE 85 
 
 XVI. REV. MR. STRICKLEBAT MAKES HIS APPEARANCE 93 
 
 XVII. A MEETING AROUND THE LIBRARY LAMP . 100 
 
 XVIII. MR. GRAY TAKES A LESSON IN MILKING . . 109 
 
 XIX. LAMB AND WINE 114 
 
 XX. HOW THE LITTLE GRAYS CELEBRATED THE 
 
 ECLIPSE 121 
 
 XXI. MR. GRAY BRINGS " SOMETHING " FROM TOWN 126 
 
 XXII. INDIAN SUMMER 134 
 
 XXIII. " HONEST DANIEL DUE " 139 
 
 XXIV. SEVERAL THANKSGIVING DAYS . . . 146 
 XXV. CHARTREUSE, BILLIARDS, AND POETBT . . 153
 
 x CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAOE 
 
 XXVI. MR. GEAT HARVESTS HIS CROPS . . . 161 
 XXVII. THE LITTLE FOLKS CELEBRATE EVACUATION 
 
 DAY 167 
 
 XXVIII. MR. GRAY S INDIAN DESCENT .... 173 
 
 XXIX. THE DAY OF THANKSGIVING . . . .178 
 
 XXX. MRS. GRAY GOES TO AN EARLY TEA PARTY . 187 
 
 XXXI. A FEW TRUMPETS ARE INTRODUCED . . . 195 
 
 XXXII. SANTA CLAUS S VISIT 199 
 
 XXXIII. BUCKWHEAT CAKES AND SAUSAGES . . . 206 
 
 XXXIV. MY CHILDREN IN UTOPIA A CHRISTMAS STORY 210 
 XXXV. MY LITTLE ONES AT HOME, WITH MORE OF THE 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORY 219 
 
 XXXVI. THE STORY WITHIN A STORY OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 TIMES 231 
 
 XXXVII. ANOTHER PART OF OUR CHRISTMAS NIGHTS 
 
 ENTERTAINMENTS 237 
 
 XXXVIII. THE END OF MY FAMILY IN UTOPIA . . 249 
 
 XXXIX. WINTER IN TOWN AND OUT OF TOWN . . 261 
 
 XL. THE STORY OF THE LITTLE QUAKERESS . . 271 
 
 XLI. MR. GRAY ATTENDS A TEA PARTY . . 283 
 
 XLII. MR. GRAY S YOUTHFUL DAYS .... 289 
 
 XLIII. MRS. GRAY RECEIVES A PRESENT . . . 294 
 
 XLIV. WOODBINE COTTAGE GOES TO A WEDDING . 304
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I go into the Country. My Reasons. Choice of a Village. Woodbine 
 Cottage. My Library. Other Rooms. Camping-out. 
 
 EN spring came, I resolved to move into the 
 country. There were numerous reasons which 
 induced me to take this step. I had become 
 thoroughly disenchanted with town-life. Ten years spent 
 amidst brick walls and street-flagging, without getting, in 
 all that time, a whiff of country air, or a sight of a blade 
 of grass, save what the city parks afforded, were as many 
 as I cared to endure. Besides, house-rents in town had 
 advanced enormously, and, as the little English-basement 
 house in Merryfield Place, where I had dwelt so comfort 
 ably all these years of city-life, had been sold, and I was 
 forced to seek another habitation, I resolved to save money 
 by purchasing a place in the country. Other reasons, quite 
 as important the health of my estimable spouse and 
 also of my little ones, and still others which I will not par 
 ticularize had weight in leading me to change my base. 
 
 Now, it is very easy to say that you will go into the 
 country; you can make the declaration at the breakfast- 
 table of a morning, over your coffee and rolls, as I did, and 
 yet you are very far from having gone into the country. 
 The country covers a great deal of ground, even that portion 
 of it which lies directly in the neighborhood of the town in 
 which you live, and it is not a simple affair to decide as to 
 the particular locality wherein you will establish your lares 
 1
 
 2 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 et pennies. If you wish to be, as I did, within easy access 
 of the city, I believe " within an hour s ride " is the proper 
 phrase to employ, you will be obliged, not only to visit a 
 large number of "suburban retreats," but also to hold 
 many conversations with your wife in relation to the affair. 
 There are many pros and cons to be considered before you 
 come to a decision. The healthfulness of the place, its 
 society, its religious and educational advantages, its prox 
 imity and facilities for getting to town, the skill and char 
 acter of its physician ; even its butcher, its groceryman, and 
 shoemaker have to be thought of; and, not least, though 
 last in the list, the properties of its drinking-water should 
 be investigated before you arrive at a final decision. 
 
 I will not say that I was wise enough to attend to all 
 these matters previous to becoming a resident of the little 
 village which has the honor of numbering me among its 
 inhabitants ; though concerning some of these points I did 
 inquire, and I must say that the answers I received were 
 all highly favorable. The persons, however, whom I inter 
 rogated were, to a certain extent, interested in having me 
 reside among them, and, therefore, were disposed to make 
 everything appear of a rose-color. After all, it is not a 
 bad place I selected ; and as I presume that there are very 
 few gardens of Eden within the area of twenty miles of 
 New York, I am contented with it. I visited a good many 
 spots that professed to be somewhat in the Eden line, but 
 found none that would, in any marked degree, compare 
 with the original Paradise. It was not pleasant, either, to 
 go among strangers ; and, as I am a somewhat quiet and 
 retiring individual, not prone to form new relations, I feared 
 I might dwell many years in sundry of the villages I ex 
 plored, without making the acquaintance of any one there 
 in, except the ticket-agent at the railroad station. So, 
 when a savage literary friend of mine commended the vil 
 lage of Fordham, where he resided, as a desirable location 
 in which to place my household gods, I at once decided to
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 3 
 
 become a Fordhamerer, and the owner of the little wood 
 bine-clad cottage he had selected for me. 
 
 The house is small, but, as the maid-of-all-work re 
 marked, " mighty-convenient." She declared to my wife that 
 she could stand at the bottom of the stairs, in the hall, and 
 sweep every room in the house without moving more than 
 a foot either way ; and, from the slight manner in which 
 she performs this little task, I am disposed to think that 
 she acts up to the letter of her remark. 
 
 I found it a work of much difficulty to get all of my 
 household effects into its apartments. The main thing 
 with me was to obtain a place for my books. So I selected 
 the largest and best room in the house for my library, and 
 told my wife that all the others were at her disposal. She 
 seemed to think, however, that I had taken the lion s share, 
 and asked me what she should do for a parlor. I advised 
 her to take the adjoining apartment, but she said she in 
 tended that for the dining-room. 
 
 " Then the one still beyond," I said. 
 
 " Oh ! that is the kitchen," she replied. 
 
 " Perhaps," I suggested, " one of the four up-stairs will 
 answer." 
 
 "We require them all," she declared, "for sleeping 
 apartments." 
 
 " Well, then, my dear," I replied, " I don t know what 
 you will do. But what is the necessity of having a parlor 
 at all ? " 
 
 " Why, to entertain our friends in, when they call to see 
 us," she replied. 
 
 " Oh ! if that be all," I replied, " the library will do well 
 enough. In fact, it is a much better place for that purpose 
 than a parlor ; for what, after all, is a parlor, with its 
 rosewood furniture, satin hangings, and gilded ornaments, 
 compared to a library, with its books, pictures, and oaken 
 furniture, as a place wherein to entertain a thoughtfully 
 inclined person ? It is a pleasant place withal wherein
 
 4 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 to pass a rainy day. The patter of the rain upon the win 
 dows seems a fit accompaniment to the rhythm of the poem 
 we may be reading ; and the gusts of wind that, ever and 
 anon, shake the casement, seem appropriate to the weird 
 tale we are perusing. Then, again, if it be a sunny instead 
 of a rainy day, what more delightful spot can one find to 
 while away the hours in than this same library ! When 
 surrounded by books we never feel lonely. They are silent 
 but agreeable companions, and in their society we may ob 
 tain both amusement and instruction. How delightful it 
 is, too, to sit down before a package of new books ! How 
 carefully one unties the twine that binds it, and, unfolding 
 the thick brown paper, lays bare the fresh and welcome 
 volumes. The surroundings of a library, toe are all sug 
 gestive of interesting topics of conversation , while your 
 parlor proper, with its collection of knicknackeries, only 
 reminds one of the fashionable frivolities of life. Not, I 
 own, my dear, that we are heavily burdened with expen 
 sive parlor articles, though there are the lounges, and pier- 
 glasses, and piano, and I declare, I don t know where we 
 can put that piano. I am inclined to think that we shall 
 be obliged to return it to the maker s for safe keeping 
 until we can make room for it. Ah ! I have it, my dear ; 
 I 11 build on a parlor. A wing added to the house will 
 materially improve its appearance, and give us all the addi 
 tional room we require." 
 
 Therefore it is that, until I put a wing to my cottage, we 
 shall live without a parlor, and have to entertain our friends 
 in the library. If more guests come than we can accom 
 modate within the house, we can take possession of the 
 adjoining orchard, or adjourn to the shade of the neighbor- 
 ing groves. One cannot do this if he lives in the town ; 
 there, if his house is ever so crowded with company, he has 
 to make the best of it, and put up with all kind of incon 
 veniences. But out of town, on a pinch, especially in 
 pleasant summer weather, if one s sleeping accommodations
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 5 
 
 are limited, he can swing hammocks under the trees for his 
 friends, and, my word for it, if they like camping-out, they 
 will enjoy it more than being cooped up in a small bed 
 room. Some night, when the children cry so as to keep 
 me awake, I will abdicate my own room, and essay a lodg 
 ing out-of-doors.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Getting Settled. Carpets. Refrigerator. My Heater. Taylor s Aster- 
 ale. An Infernal Machine. The Elephant. Household Changes. 
 Cows, Milkmaids, and Milk. A Wise Maiden. Ice-men. Bronx vs. 
 Harlem. My Exordium. Drake s Verses. The Majority. 
 
 >T takes a long time for a family to " get to 
 rights " after moving into the country. The 
 carpets, which were fitted to the rooms in your 
 city home, seem stubbornly disinclined to take kindly to 
 their new apartments. As a general rule, on these occa 
 sions, they are too small, though, in the present case, I 
 will give them the credit of being much larger than is 
 necessary. This, as my wife remarked, is a good fault ; 
 though how, if it be a fault, it can at the same time be 
 a good one, is past my comprehension. When I said 
 as much to my wife, she answered that, if I could not 
 understand her meaning, I might remain in ignorance ; 
 but that to her it was perfectly clear and simple. As I 
 before remarked, the carpets are all too large ; but when 
 I suggested the expediency of cutting them down to the 
 proper size, my wife objected to it, on the ground that it 
 would unsuit them for larger rooms, and, therefore, pre 
 ferred to turn them under at the ends. As I purpose to 
 live many years in this little house, and expect to wear out 
 several carpets in the mean while, I could not fully appre 
 ciate the advantage to be derived from turning them in ; 
 but, as I have learned the wisdom of not making objections 
 to the economies of housekeeping, I held my peace on the 
 subject. I notice, however, a slight inequality in the sur 
 face of the carpeting in the various rooms, making a ridge- 
 like elevation, extending across the rooms about three feet
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 7 
 
 from the base-board, which does not strike me as being ex 
 actly the thing. 
 
 Fortunately, my bookcases all fitted properly into the 
 niches wherein I desired to place them, and it was not 
 necessary to saw off any projecting mouldings to enable 
 them to occupy their appropriate spheres in the library. 
 My wife found some difficulty, however, in this paiticular, 
 with a bureau and a sofa, which articles seriously objected 
 to being placed in the particular locations wherein she 
 desired to see them. The refrigerator, too, a large, octag 
 onal-shaped one, had to be nearly taken apart before we 
 could get it through a certain doorway. Then, too, the 
 heater, an immense thing that could n t be got apart, had 
 to remain out-of-doors, upon the front piazza, for more 
 than a month, until I could get a mason to come and make 
 a passage-way for it into the cellar ; and, after that, it re 
 quired three men three hours to get it in ; nor could they 
 have accomplished it in that time had they not fortified 
 themselves, every five minutes, with mugs of Aster-ale, a 
 barrel of which stood conveniently at hand. 
 
 When I waggishly proposed to one of them thinking 
 the ale would not hold out to go to the village saloon, 
 and get some lager and cheese, he answered me in verse, 
 that 
 
 " Lager might do for burly Dutchmen, 
 
 To wash down Schweitzer cheese severe; 
 But give to Yankees, when they re working, 
 Full mugs of Taylor s sparkling beer." 
 
 While the heater was ornamenting the exterior of my 
 dwelling, it was a source of much interest to the small lads 
 of the village, who assembled in squads of ten or a dozen, 
 outside of the garden palings, and gazed at it with wonder 
 ing and curious eyes. At first a report got abroad that it 
 was a sort of infernal machine, or torpedo, one which I 
 had picked up off Charleston Harbor ; and I noticed that 
 persons going by the house usually gave it a wide berth,
 
 8 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 imitating, to a certain extent, the conduct of the opposites 
 of the Good Samaritan, who passed by on the other side. 
 But, as day by clay wore on, and it failed to explode, or, in 
 fact, go off in any way, their confidence returned, and a 
 complete revolution, as it were, took place in their actions. 
 They began to cast ridicule at both the heater and the 
 owner, and the boys took to pelting it with green apples 
 from the neighboring orchard. One man, indeed, had the 
 audacity to ask me what I intended to do with my elephant. 
 If he had not been a particular friend of mine, I should 
 have knocked him down ; as it was, I opened a bottle of 
 wine for him. The next day I got the mason, as aforesaid, 
 and had my " elephant" taken into the cellar. I count 
 greatly upon the warming power of that "elephant" dur 
 ing the coming winter, and expect with it to keep my en 
 tire cottage at summer temperature. 
 
 Although we have been in our new home which I 
 have called " Woodbine Cottage," from the fact that a wood 
 bine, or, after all, it may be a honeysuckle, grows about the 
 front veranda now nearly three months, I cannot yet 
 honestly declare that we are quite settled. Every few 
 days my wife makes some important change in the location 
 of the furniture. Tables, chairs, bureaus, sofas, and bed 
 steads dance an irregular jig about the house. That which 
 is my bedroom one night is the children s nursery the next. 
 And because I eat my breakfast in the morning, before I 
 go to town, in one room, it is no proof to me that, when I 
 return in the afternoon, I shall eat my dinner there. For 
 tunately, it is not an easy matter to move bookcases, else I 
 might expect, some day, to find my library transferred to 
 the garret. The fact is, my wife has a liking for change. 
 I do not mean, now, the small change which she surrepti 
 tiously extracts from my pocket-book, whenever I leave it 
 lying loosely around, but that change which is akin to a 
 love of novelty, and which, to say the least, is annoying to 
 any one who, like myself, has a regard for old landmarks.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 9 
 
 I have no doubt, however, that in course of time if we 
 both live so long our furniture will, as a general thing, 
 get into its proper place, to be disturbed only semi-annually, 
 at the regular spring and fall house-cleanings. Though I 
 confess, too, that I already begin to dread the time when I 
 shall build the additions to the house the parlor and 
 kitchen which I contemplate doing, and, indeed, have 
 promised rny wife to effect in the autumn. It will be very 
 much like " moving-day " when those additions are com 
 pleted ; and it will be a good thing for me if I can make 
 business which will detain me in town for a few days about 
 that time. 
 
 Everybody in the country ought to keep a cow, at least, 
 every one who has a family of young children who like 
 milk. As yet, I have only inquired for a cow. And 
 though several respectable-looking cows did, in an inde 
 pendent manner, make me an early morning-call, and, 
 opening the gate with their horns, walk into the enclosure 
 where my youthful beets, and cabbages, and peas, and 
 beans are growing, and eliminated their tender shoots from 
 the parent roots, I failed to appreciate their visit, or to do 
 them the honor of becoming their owner. On the con 
 trary, I drove them forth with opprobrious epithets, ac 
 companied with sticks and stones ; and afterward put up a 
 shingle sign on the fence to the effect that cows could not 
 be pastured in my garden, and that hereafter all such tres 
 passers would be taken to the pound, and there pounded. 
 Since then I am happy to state that my garden-gate has 
 remained unlifted. 
 
 The very day we took possession of our cottage, a gen 
 erous procession of milkmaids, bearing huge cans of milk, 
 came to welcome and ask us to purchase milk of them. 
 Not knowing that my wife had already engaged milk of 
 one of the aforesaid maidens, I entered into an agreement 
 
 O 
 
 with another to supply us, twice a day, with the pure arti 
 cle ; while a third, whom neither of us had engaged, but
 
 10 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 who acted upon her own responsibility, and further argued, 
 in no unskilful manner, her right to supply us, because she 
 had, for several years, been the sole milkmaid of the family 
 who had occupied the house previous to our taking posses 
 sion of it, also declared her intention of favoring us, daily, 
 with all we might require. The result was that we had a 
 superabundance of milk, and not a small part of it soured 
 on our hands. 
 
 When my wife mentioned this little circumstance to the 
 three milkmaids, they each declared it to be a fortunate 
 circumstance. " For, you know, ma am," they said, " noth 
 ing can be better than sour milk for making biscuits 
 with." 
 
 But as my wife did not propose to live by biscuits alone, 
 nor yet by milk, she gave the lacteal-bearing maidens to 
 understand that, after the following day, she should only 
 take milk from one of them. That afternoon the wisest 
 of those three maidens the one, evidently, who knew 
 how to keep her lamp trimmed and burning brought to 
 my wife a basket containing a dozen duck s eggs, as a pres 
 ent. It is scarcely necessary to add that she is the favored 
 one, now, who supplies us with milk, while the other two 
 may be regarded as milkmaids all forlorn. 
 
 After having settled satisfactorily the matter of the milk 
 business, another difficulty arose regarding the ice-man. 
 It might be presumed that, taught by experience, neither 
 my wife nor myself would have again duplicated our or 
 ders, as we did on the milk question. Owing, however, to 
 the supposition, which each of us arrived at, that, while 
 there might be many milkmaids, there was little probabil 
 ity of there being, in so small a village, more than one ice 
 man, and desirous, during the hot weather, of adding to 
 the attractiveness of our well-water, and having an eye, 
 also, to the better preservation of our meats and fancy 
 dishes, each, unknown to the other, engaged for the season 
 a supply of ice, to be delivered every other day. Several
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 11 
 
 days elapsed before we discovered that we were in the 
 receipt, daily, of a hundred pounds of ice. When, how 
 ever, our large refrigerator began to groan under its bur 
 den, and we found that we had a larger quantity of ice on 
 hand than was necessary, mutual explanations revealed the 
 fact that we were obtaining more than our share of the 
 product of the polar regions. Of course, we resolved to 
 dispense with one of the Arctic explorers ; but which of 
 the two, became the question to be solved. My wife, for 
 her part, advocated the retention of the Harlem River 
 man, because she had engaged him, and, besides, she had a 
 lingering regard for the High Bridge, which spanned it, 
 and which structure she had more than once visited, not 
 only with me, but with other gentlemen friends, before she 
 was married. This, however, had no weight with me, and 
 I strongly advocated the retention of the Bronx River 
 man. 
 
 " A person who, evidently," I said to my wife, " possesses 
 finer poetical instincts than he who cuts his ice in the Har 
 lem. For, recall to mind, my dear, the fact that one of our 
 charmingest poets, the friend of my friend Fitz-Greene 
 Halleck, who lived in the early part of the present century, 
 wrote most delightfully of this stream. Remember he 
 sung, 
 
 The humbird shook his sun -touched wings around, 
 
 The blue-finch carolled in the still retreat, 
 The antic squirrel capered on the ground 
 
 Where lichens made a carpet for his feet. 
 Through the transparent waves the ruddy winkle 
 Shot up, in glimmering sparks, his red fin s tiny twinkle. 
 
 Mark the phrase, my love, he used, transparent wave, 
 and, of course, the ice is transparent. But you don t 
 hear anything about the Harlem s transparent wave. No, 
 no, my dear ; it is very thick, muddy, and the ice, doubt 
 less, is equally wanting in transparency. No poet, my love, 
 ever wrote a line about the Harlem River, unless, perhaps,
 
 12 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 one of the early settlers, who spelt it Ilarlaem, may have 
 indited something in Low Dutch concerning it. To be 
 
 o o 
 
 sure, my dear, the Bronx man charges a little more for his 
 ice than does the Harlem man ; but are we to be governed 
 by dollars and cents? Shall we not concede something to 
 the poetical phase of the subject ? Is not the frozen trans 
 parent wave of the Bronx more valuable than the ice of 
 the Harlem, or even of the Croton ? To be sure it is, and 
 I for one, my dear, and I believe I am the majority on 
 this occasion, give my entire vote in favor of the Bronx. 
 And, with all due respect for your youthful feelings in this 
 matter, I think I may safely declare that the Bronx man is 
 unanimously elected to supply us with ice during the sea 
 son." 
 
 And, as Mrs. Gray vouchsafed no reply, it was duly car 
 ried and recorded.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. ]3 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 Making a Garden. Pens, Beans, Corn, and other Greeneries. Spring 
 Chickens. Egg-no<?g. The Moral thereof. An unexpected Poultry 
 Show. Harnuni outdone. Game-cocks. An Indignant Female. 
 Blissful Ignorance. Jack. Shanghais and Bantams. An English 
 Rooster. End of the Show. Mrs. Gray s Investment. A Black- 
 and-Tan Hen. The Rule of Thirty. To be Continued. 
 
 INCE I have come into the country I find myself 
 continually seeking reasonable excuses for not go 
 ing into town every day. While I was engaged 
 in planting my half-acre garden, I had no difficulty in the 
 matter. I was obliged to give a day each to my peas, my 
 beans, my corn, and my potatoes. I had decided to do all 
 the work myself, and, therefore, it was really necessary for 
 me to stay at home to accomplish it. To be sure, after 
 working an hour or two of a morning, under the hot sun, I 
 found it agreeable to my feelings to retire within the house 
 and take a long nooning of five or six hours, relieving the 
 tedium of the time with a book, an iced punch, a saucer of 
 strawberries and cream, and a cigar. In this way I man 
 aged to make a good many working-holidays for myself. 
 I saved, too, to some extent, my hands from being as blis 
 tered as they would have been had I worked steadily on 
 the twelve hours rule. As it was, I had my share of these 
 little annoyances, and never, since the time I was a school 
 boy, and was regularly feruled by my tutor, have my hands 
 presented as many blisters. But I persevered in my agri 
 cultural efforts, and, after a reasonable time, I had the 
 satisfaction of seeing all the seeds I had planted with 
 the exception of the corn, which the hens, unknown to me, 
 had scratched up break through the soil, watered with
 
 14 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 the sweat of my brow, and send their green and tender 
 shoots into the air. The corn I replanted, or, rather, I 
 hired a gardener to do it ; for, although my intentions were 
 good in regard to doing all the work myself, after the first 
 day I relinquished the greater part of the labor to an older 
 hand than mine, and with very gratifying results, as my 
 table, which is chiefly supplied with vegetables of my own 
 raising, sufficiently attests. 
 
 I am quite certain that, even allowing for the wages I 
 paid my gardener, I am obtaining my peas and string- 
 beans, my beets, lettuce, and radishes for much less than I 
 could purchase them in town, besides having the ad 
 vantage of getting them fresh from the garden. My corn 
 is beginning to show its silken floss ; my tomatoes are just 
 coloring ; my Lima beans are filling out famously ; my 
 cucumbers are ripening ; my squashes are turning their 
 yellow sides up to the sun ; and my melons will be ready 
 for eating ere the month goes out. 
 
 Then, too, in the matter of spring chickens, I am not 
 badly off; and as for eggs, I get scores of them every day. 
 It is very handy, my wife thinks, to have plenty of eggs in 
 the house ; and, aside from their availability in the matter 
 of custards, puddings, cakes, etc., they are very convenient 
 in concocting noggs and mulls. When, one rainy Satur 
 day, not long since, I neglected to report at the granite 
 building in Wall Street, and remained at home, ostensibly 
 to do a little weeding, but really to recruit my exhausted 
 system, exhausted by a too close application to govern 
 mental work, by making a lounging time of it, the savage 
 literary friend, referred to in a former sketch, who came 
 to see me, insinuatingly suggested that an egg-nogg would 
 not be a bad thing to take. Thereupon my freshest-laid 
 eggs came into use ; the ancestral punch-bowl was brought 
 out ; a bottle of old Jamaica, which I would be willing to 
 declare had lain in my cellar twenty years, if I had only 
 lived here that time, or even half of it, was opened ; a quart
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 15 
 
 of pure milk, with the cream beginning to rise on the sur 
 face, was obtained ; and, with a quantum sitfficit of sugar 
 and nutmeg, a drink worthy of being commemorated in 
 verse by Tom Moore was concocted and quaffed, while 
 conviviality and good-fellowship ruled the hour. Now, for 
 the moral : You may make and drink egg-nogg in the city 
 as often as you please, and you may regard it as very fine ; 
 but, until you make and drink it in the country, using fresh 
 eggs and new milk in its composition, you can have no 
 idea of its excellence. It is then a draught fit for the best 
 of good fellows. It warms the cockles of your heart. It 
 cheers, but does not unless you drink too much of it, 
 which, although sorely tempted, you will not do, being a 
 reasonable human being inebriate. It inclines you to 
 be merry, and you are disposed, under its warming influ 
 ence, to sing patriotic songs, and recall to mind all manner 
 of pleasant scenes. Therefore does it seem to me that, 
 among other reasons for going out of town, which I might 
 but did not name, is that thereby I might the better ob 
 tain a bowl of egg-nogg. 
 
 The allusion made above to spring chickens reminds me 
 of a little venture which my estimable wife made in the 
 poultry line, when we first came to Woodbine Cottage. 
 Aware of the fact that it is the proper thing to have hens 
 in the country, and knowing, too, that hens are disposed to 
 lay eggs, and convinced, moreover, that fresh eggs for 
 breakfast are desirable, she gave the majority of the milk 
 maids who patronized us to understand that she would like 
 to become the purchaser of a few hens. Of course, this 
 desire of hers was noised about among the country folks 
 for miles around, and, as the information spread from 
 mouth to mouth, and from neighbor to neighbor, the num 
 ber of fowls increased from the original half-dozen up to a 
 hundred or more. When, therefore, the country folks be 
 gan to ride up to the house, with crates and baskets filled 
 with crowing cocks, cackling hens, and chirping chickens,
 
 16 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 it was as if Barnum were opening a new poultry show. 
 The display was something quite magnificent, and, as it 
 occurred on one of my stay-at-home days, I had the full 
 benefit of it. Fortunately my wife, having secured from 
 the first person who arrived the half-dozen fowls she de 
 sired, was not obliged to receive the remaining members 
 of the procession individually as they drove up to the gate 
 way. This part of the proceedings fell to me, and, if I 
 may believe my wife, who kept watch of me through the 
 window-blinds from within the library, 1 acquitted myself 
 with great dignity and decision. To tell the truth, I was 
 rather overworked on that occasion, and, after the first 
 score of poultry-dealers had passed before me, and paraded 
 their stock on the open veranda where I sat, I began to 
 think the affair not so amusing as it struck me it would be 
 when it commenced. I did n t mind the men so much as 
 I did the women ; for I found that, by offering the former 
 mugs of ale, after declining to deal with them, I quite 
 soothed their irritable feelings. Indeed the effect was 
 much like pouring oil upon water ; but with the women, 
 who did n t take kindly to ale, it was more like casting 
 oil upon fire. One, especially, flared up in fine style, and 
 declared, with much shaking of chicken feathers in my 
 face, that she had come ten miles, in the broiling sun, to 
 sell me those fowls, and that it was n t treating her decently 
 to refuse to buy them. That she would let her son for 
 she chanced to be a widow, a circumstance which I found 
 was generally the case with my visitors know of my 
 meanness, and she guessed he d settle the matter with me, 
 and let me see that, if I did come from the city, and put 
 on airs because I was rich, I forgave the woman her 
 
 O 
 
 blissful ignorance of my pecuniary resources, I was not 
 going to ride over her and hers rough-shod. 
 
 Now, there are those fowls, she continued, three roosters 
 and three hens, paired and mated from the egg. No Mor- 
 monism or any of that kind of foolery was allowed in her
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 17 
 
 poulty-yard ; and, if I did n t decide mighty quick to take 
 em, she d get even with me before the day was over. But 
 I was very decided, and refused to purchase them or par 
 ley with her any longer. She then offered them to me for 
 half price, she had asked five dollars a pair, but still I 
 declined ; though I compromised the matter, by recom 
 mending her to visit my savage literary friend, just above 
 me on the hill, who would buy them, I thought, provided 
 he could get them at a bargain. I think he must have 
 bought them, for the woman never came back to me ; and, 
 besides, I have noticed of late that his dog Jack, a wiry 
 terrier of surpassing ugliness, has grown quite plump, as if 
 he had been living on cocks and hens. Indeed, the feath 
 ers, both tail and pin, which ornament his shaggy coat, 
 would serve to indicate this to be something more than a 
 mere unfounded supposition. 
 
 The first arrival of poultry had been at six o clock in 
 the morning, and from that hour until past noon Union 
 Avenue, in front of my house, was choked up with coming 
 and departing wagon-trains. Every variety of the gallina 
 ceous breed, from the ungainly Shanghai, all legs, to the 
 pert little Bantam, without any legs of which to speak, was 
 represented. I was greatly tempted, at one time, to buy a 
 perfect fac-simile of the " old red " that whilom strutted 
 and crowed at my Hillside home ; also a noble English 
 rooster, black as the ace of spades, graceful in his move 
 ments as Hamlet, and possessing a splendid scarlet comb, 
 which waved like a red flag from a citadel. There were 
 sundry game-cocks in the collection, and several times I 
 was invited out into the road to see a fight going on be 
 tween a couple of them ; but I invariably declined, prefer 
 ring to remain on my own veranda, and witness it from a 
 safe distance. Besides, I did not know but that I might 
 be asked to engage in combat with one or more of the 
 disappointed poultrymen, and that was something I would 
 rather not do. My barrel of Aster-ale, too, had given out, 
 2
 
 18 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 and I had been obliged to send down to Teuton Hall, in 
 the village, for a keg of lager ; but, somehow, the company 
 outside the garden palings did n t take kindly to it, and 
 failed to prove themselves good representatives of the 
 Sanger-fest. 
 
 When, at last, they found that longer waiting was use 
 less, and that there was no more ale, they began, one by 
 one, to go home, and the screams and clucking of hens 
 and the shrill Growings of the cocks grew fainter and 
 fainter as they were carried back to their respective barn 
 yards. By-and-by, all that was left of the poultry show 
 were a few scattered feathers, and three or four diminu 
 tive chicks, which had escaped from thaldrom and hidden 
 themselves under the currant-bushes, from whence they 
 sent up feeble and unavailing " peeps." 
 
 I may as well here add that every one of the fowls that 
 Mrs. Gray bought proved to be of the masculine gender, 
 and in consequence I was obliged afterwards to visit Wash 
 ington Market, and purchase such as lay eggs and are not 
 given to crowing. I would rather have obtained them 
 nearer home ; but the country people round about all re 
 fused to sell me any. One of those which I bought, too, I 
 lost before getting home. She was a little black-and-tan 
 hen, with a couple of bright eyes, a knowing side-glance, 
 a short bill, and clean legs, and the market-man swore 
 awfully that she was a splendid layer and setter. Three 
 eggs a day, he said, would not be a bit too many to expect 
 from her, though first along, being in a strange place. 
 she might n t quite come up to that figure ; but, if I only 
 gave her time, and would feed her well on corn, and keep 
 her pasture ground well supplied with pebbles and lime, 
 she d do it. 
 
 It was no more than I expected to have him ask higher 
 for that hen than for the others ; but still, when he named 
 ten dollars as her price, I hesitated somewhat as to pur 
 chasing her, but closed with him, however, after he demon-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 19 
 
 strated to me that she would not only pay for herself 
 even if she laid not more than one egg a day with eggs 
 at five cents apiece, in about a month, but yield a profit of 
 five dollars to pay for her feed. I don t exactly understand 
 now how he worked it out, but, at all events, he did it, and 
 it was somehow in this way : " Thirty days multiplied by 
 five cents," he said, putting his head knowingly on one 
 side, and doing a little legerdemain on his fingers, " makes 
 fifteen dollars ; deduct ten dollars as the price of the hen, 
 and you have five dollars remaining with which to purchase 
 her feed." 
 
 Even now it sounds correctly to me ; but my eight-year- 
 old boy ciphered it out somewhat differently. But, as I 
 said above, I lost her bringing her home, and came exceed 
 ingly near to getting into a serious difficulty on her account, 
 to say nothing of almost losing my own life. But, as the 
 story is somewhat long, I will devote the next chapter to 
 its relation.
 
 20 OUT OF TOVSN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Shady Side of the Cars. Muslin vs. Bombazine. Kind Sir, She 
 said. An Apology. My Grandmother. Banting System. Blaek- 
 and-Tan. On a Lark. A Chase. In the Tunnel. Irritable Old 
 Gentleman. 
 
 LOST my black-and-tan hen bringing her home. 
 And this was the way it came to pass. I had her, 
 with the other fowls I bought, secured in a large 
 wicker basket, and had brought them in safety from the 
 market to the railroad, and placed them under the seat 
 which I occupied in the car. It being a warm day, I hoped, 
 because of the greater comfort it would yield me, to occupy 
 it alone, and had consequently disposed beside me the 
 various packages and newspapers which a dweller out of 
 town is accustomed to carry with him whenever he goes 
 home. I had buried myself, figuratively speaking, in the 
 last number of the " Atlantic," and was so absorbed in its 
 perusal that I failed to perceive the inquiring glances cast 
 by the passengers, as they passed through the cars, at the 
 unoccupied seat. I knew they would find plenty of seats 
 in the rear cars, or on the sunny side of almost any one in 
 the train. Consequently, I made up my mind not to make 
 room for any one beside me, unless asked so to do. I 
 might have had for a neighbor a nice young lady, as sweet 
 as lavender, and wearing the coolest of muslin gowns, if I 
 had chosen to offer one a seat; but I neglected all the 
 pleasant opportunities which arose for so doing, and was 
 just congratulating myself for the cars were in motion 
 on having the entire seat to myself, when a fat old lady, 
 with a bandbox and basket, a parasol and a palm-leaf fan, 
 wearing the warmest of black bombazine dresses, and look-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 21 
 
 ing most distressingly red-hot and suffocated, made her 
 appearance down the aisle, coming toward me. I lifted 
 my eyes from the page before me, where I had been read 
 ing about the honey-makers till the murmur of bees filled 
 my mind, the perfume of clover-tops my nostrils, and the 
 flavor of honey my tongue, and looked about me. Every 
 seat was filled, and I knew there was no help for me ; my 
 time had come. So, making a virtue of necessity, I moved, 
 as the old lady got near, and offered her part of the seat. 
 She took it with many thanks, regretting she was so large 
 and fleshy, as she knew she should seriously incommode 
 me. 
 
 " But Providence, kind sir," she said, " does not permit 
 us to choose our mortal tabernacles of flesh, else I would 
 have been a much smaller woman than I am, and you 
 would have been spared the discomfort which is now likely 
 to be yours." 
 
 I begged the old lady to make no apologies for her size, 
 although the seat, I said, really might have been a trifle 
 wider, thereby rendering it more comfortable for each of 
 us, yet that she could be thankful I was not a large man. 
 She said she was, and she had no doubt, either, but that I 
 was myself. 
 
 I replied I was, on this occasion, but that, as a general 
 rule, it was not applicable. I would prefer to be a little 
 stouter and heavier than I am ; still, as she justly remarked, 
 " one cannot control these matters." 
 
 " For my part," I continued, " I like fleshy persons ; 
 they are almost invariably good-natured, kind-hearted, and 
 jovial. I had a grandmother once rest her soul in 
 peace ! she is dead and gone these many-a-year who 
 was much stouter even than you ; and, though she was 
 prone to regret her size, I would n t have had a single 
 ounce of her flesh removed for anything. There was n t 
 too much of that old lady for me to love, I assure you. 
 Besides, I always had an idea that it was because my
 
 22 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 grandmother was so large that she used to cut me such 
 great slices of pound-cake whenever I visited her. If she 
 had been a thin, bean-poleish kind of a woman, the pieces 
 of cake, I imagine, would have been of the same character." 
 
 The old lady at my side looked benignly upon me, and 
 said that she believed I was right. She had an idea though, 
 she said, of trying that new plan of reducing one s flesh, 
 of which she d heard so much talk, the what-do-you- 
 call-it system. 
 
 " Oh, the Banting," I said. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " that is it ; though I should n t like 
 to be obliged to give up bread. I don t believe, though, 
 after all, that I shall adopt that what-is-it system ? " 
 
 " The Banting," I answered. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I 11 remember it now," she replied, " Ban 
 ting. I ve only to think of bantams, and that will remind 
 me of it. Now, do you know," she continued, " that I ve 
 imagined, ever since I ve been here, that I heard hens 
 making a noise ? " 
 
 " I think it very probable," I replied ; " for, the fact is, 
 I have a half-dozen of fowls in the basket under this seat. 
 I ve a couple of bantams there, and a black-and-tan hen 
 which is just the prettiest little fowl you ever saw." 
 
 " Now, do tell," she said ; " but what kind of a hen 
 did you call it, a black and what ? " 
 
 " Black-and-tan," I answered. 
 
 " Well, now, really," she said, " I know a good deal about 
 fowls, but I never heard before of one of that kind ; and 
 if you could let me see that hen I would regard it as a 
 great favor." 
 
 Thereupon I managed, with considerable trouble, to get 
 the cover of the basket opened, and take out the afore 
 mentioned black-and-tan. We were just approaching the 
 Harlem Tunnel, and, before the old lady had an opportu 
 nity to examine her henship, we had passed into the dark 
 ness. Suddenly the hen, which had been lying perfectly
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 23 
 
 quiet, struggled from my grasp, and before I could recover 
 it, was flying through the car, striking with her wings the 
 bonnets of the ladies, and knocking off the hats of the 
 men. The commotion was fearful, the women shrieked, 
 the men swore, and the affrighted hen kept blindly flying 
 about. None, however, knew what it was, but the general 
 impression seemed to be that it was an invention of the 
 Rebels a kind of flying infernal machine for the de 
 struction of the inmates of the car. 
 
 When we reached daylight again the mystery was ex 
 plained, and, with shouts of laughter from some and invec 
 tives from others, the owner of the unfortunate hen was 
 called for, and, after many urgent requests, I at last rose, 
 and sought to apologize for the annoyance I had uninten 
 tionally caused. The passengers generally accepted the 
 apology, but one or two individuals said I ought to be 
 prosecuted and made to pay roundly for the fright my hen 
 had occasioned. All this while the black-and-tan was run 
 ning about under the seats, poked at with canes and um 
 brellas, and finally took refuge, just as I joined in the 
 pursuit, under the hoops of a sour-looking, tall, and bony 
 maiden lady of an uncertain age, who sat in the adjoining 
 seat to me, and who I noticed had turned a scornful look 
 at me when I eulogized fat people. For a moment she 
 screeched hysterically, and then fainted away ; at the same 
 time the hen gained the door of the car, which the con 
 ductor opened on his way to collect the tickets, and before 
 I could grasp her had flown, screaming, off of the platform, 
 and alighted in the charming village of Yorkville, where 
 she now, doubtless, is experiencing the hospitality of that 
 delightful suburban retreat. 
 
 In my efforts to catch her I came near to falling head 
 long from the cars, and, if the brakeman had not caught 
 me, I should have followed after the hen. When I reen- 
 tered the car I was confronted by a lively old gentleman 
 with a rubicund nose, and a gold-headed cane which he
 
 24 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 flourished energetically, who desired to know what the 
 deuce I meant by insulting his sister. 
 
 I assured him that I had no intention of doing any such 
 thing, and was exceedingly sorry that my little black-and- 
 tan mine, alas ! no longer had created such a serious 
 disturbance. 
 
 The old gentleman, however, refused to listen to my 
 explanations, until the old lady who had occupied the seat 
 with me came to the rescue, and assured the would-be bel 
 ligerent that it was entirely her fault that the fearful scene 
 through which we had just passed had occurred. There 
 was something about that old lady s voice of a soothing 
 nature, or, it may be, something magical in her touch, 
 when she laid her hand softly upon the arm of the excited 
 old gentleman, that acted like an opiate upon his anger. 
 
 He yielded gracefully to her persuasions, and assured 
 her that it gave him great pleasure to listen to her expla 
 nations, and that, moreover, he was convinced that his sister 
 was a fool, and it was confounded nonsense for her to act 
 as she did. 
 
 Meanwhile my old lady had, by the aid of salts, cam 
 phor, and other medicinal compounds, of which she ap 
 peared to have a large supply in her satchel, restored the 
 thin lady to consciousness. 
 
 The excitement after a while subsided, and when I 
 reached my stopping-place, I gave up my seat to the afore 
 said old gentleman, who appeared delighted to take posses 
 sion of it, and shook hands with me with great cordiality 
 at parting. 
 
 Whether I shall ever duplicate that black-and-tan re 
 mains to be seen ; but at present, my wife, who is of a 
 saving turn of mind, objects seriously to my paying so high 
 for any kind of a hen. The common hens, which lay one 
 egg a day, she says, are good enough for our poultry-yard, 
 and she trusts I will not spend any more money in buying 
 new-fangled cocks and hens.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 25 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Brother of the Angle. Country Scenery. "American Angler s Book." 
 Gentle Genio. My Outfit. A Fishing Party. The Procession. 
 Prospect of Rain. The Classic Bronx. Many Flies. Nary Trout. 
 Mishaps. It rains. Going Home. 
 
 HAVE become a brother of the angle. A neigh 
 bor of mine, who lives on the heights, had the 
 honor of initiating me into the mysteries of the 
 craft. He said no one ought to dwell in the country unless 
 he were in the habit of going a-fishing. He quoted at 
 length from old Izaak Walton to prove that one of the 
 chief enjoyments of an out-of-town life consists in being 
 able to go a-fishing. To live, too, near the sea, or a lake, 
 or a running brook, was essential, he thought, to a proper 
 appreciation of a country life. Thereby, one enjoyed bet 
 ter the special delights which the country affords, the 
 forest, with its leafy trees and shadowy nooks ; the wide- 
 spreading meadows, with their sunshine and buttercups ; 
 the breezy hill-tops ; the quiet vales ; the winding lanes, 
 with raspberries and blackberries growing on either side ; 
 and, in short, all the charming sights and sounds that go to 
 make up a country life. 
 
 After this conversation with my friend, I became inocu 
 lated with the desire to be an angler. So I took down, 
 from its shelf in my library, the " American Angler s 
 Book," and, in its perusal, lost all thought of the little task 
 of thinning out my beets, which I had remained at home 
 to accomplish. 
 
 Of course one cannot become an angler unless he pos 
 sesses all the necessary tackle for the sport. Rods, land 
 ing-net, reels, lines, flies, baskets, high-topped boots, a 
 slouched hat, and a pocket-flask are absolutely requisite in
 
 26 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 getting yourself up for a fisherman. When, after having 
 spent much money and time, going from shop to shop with 
 the " Gentle Genio," of the " Spirit," in obtaining these 
 things, an express-wagon brought them home, my wife de 
 sired to know if I were going to open a fishing-shop. I 
 told her no, but that I was going to shop for fish. 
 
 She trusted, she said, that I would have a good time of 
 it when I went, but that she had not much hope of my 
 success, for she had always understood that a true angler, 
 like a true poet, must be born, not made. 
 
 Whereupon I told her that she knew nothing about it, 
 and that, if she wished to have proven the falsity of her 
 remark, she might accompany me on the morrow, and be 
 a witness to my success. 
 
 This proposition seemed to please her very much ; and, 
 as I advised her to take the children and the nurse with 
 her, and make a kind of picnic of it, a gala day, as it 
 were, to celebrate my inauguration as a fisherman, she 
 took kindly to the arrangement, and made a chicken-pie 
 for the occasion, and added sundry sandwiches to the colla 
 tion, and I filled my flask ; and the next morning, though 
 the heavens betokened rain, and my wife said she was 
 afraid there would be a shower before night, AVC started. 
 
 " A cloudy sky, my dear," I said, " like that which is 
 over us at this moment, is much more desirable than a 
 clear one would be. Besides, you must allow that a warm 
 sunny day would not be nearly so pleasant. The children 
 would be hot and cross, the flies and mosquitoes would bite 
 them, and their little faces would be sadly burnt." 
 
 " But, if it should rain, my dear ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, never fear that," I answered ; " I never knew it to 
 rain when I went a-fishinsf, and I don t think it will begin 
 
 O o 
 
 to-day. Still, if it should sprinkle a little, the children 
 can undress themselves and put their clothes under a stone 
 while the shower lasts, and then, when it passes off, they 
 can have them dry to put on again."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 27 
 
 " That may be very nice for the little ones, my dear," 
 my wife replied, " but what is to become of me in case of 
 a shower ? You can t expect me to follow their example." 
 
 " Well, no, perhaps not," I answered ; " but then you 
 have an umbrella, and can find protection, besides, under 
 the trees ; so that I don t think you need be greatly alarmed 
 at the prospect of rain." 
 
 It was a pleasant thing to see our procession moving 
 along the road, winding through the woods, to the Bronx. 
 The neighbors came out of their houses to see us go by. 
 Several of them prophesied that we would have a rainy 
 day ; but the larger portion of them wisely held their 
 peace. First, as a pioneer, went the dog Jack, kept in 
 place by my constantly throwing stones ahead for him to 
 search for. Then came my eldest boy with a long fishing- 
 pole and an umbrella. Behind him walked his two sisters, 
 bearing between them a basket containing refreshments, 
 and who, when they occasionally stopped to rest, abstracted 
 therefrom the tempting peaches which lay within easy reach 
 of their fingers. Then came the baby, reclining at ease in 
 a four-wheeled carriage, propelled by the inevitable nurse, 
 who always appears in our house simultaneously with the 
 new infant. Her name is Kitty, and, though she is a good 
 girl, and has had charge of several of my olive-plants, I 
 don t think she will ever be called upon to take care of 
 any more. Finally, bringing up the rear, with Mrs. Gray 
 beside me, I walked, in a grave, sedate manner, as was be 
 coming in the father of such a family and the husband of 
 so dignified a woman as Mrs. G. She was not embarrassed 
 with any luggage, if I except a gray shawl which she car 
 ried on her arm, and a palm-leaf fan which she held in her 
 hand. As for myself, I was loaded down with many traps. 
 My fishing-boots, the tops of which reached nearly to my 
 shoulders, were extremely heavy, and when I put one foot 
 down, it was exceedingly difficult to lift it off the ground 
 again ; each of those boots must weigh twenty pounds at
 
 28 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 least. Then I had my fish-basket, containing much tackle, 
 and my private flask, slung across one shoulder, and a 
 couple of poles over the other. Before we reached the 
 banks of the stream we had added to our procession the 
 popular simpleton of the village, together with his dog and 
 two goats he was driving. I will say this of that poor fool, 
 that he might have shown less wisdom than he did by join 
 ing our party. He left us, however, because he said it 
 was going to rain, and he knew enough to go into the 
 house when it rained, never mind that some people said he 
 did n t, when we reached the classic Bronx, with its diver 
 sity of banks, here low and creeping up gently from the 
 edge of the water, with an emerald sward ; there higher, 
 and fringed with the hazel, the dogwood, and climbing 
 vines ; and anon rising abrupt and rocky from twenty to 
 thirty feet above the surface of the water, with dark pines 
 and cedars stretching their huge branches far out toward 
 the opposing shores. In some places the tide flows lazily 
 and smoothly along, and the water-spider skims fearlessly 
 across its glassy breast ; at others, it goes tumbling and 
 foaming over half-hidden rocks, and eddying around mossy 
 trunks, and swirling swiftly into deep and silent pools. In 
 these cloister-like spots, if anywhere amidst the stream, it 
 is to be presumed that wily trout lurk ; and into one of 
 these, having first encamped my family on flat rocks and 
 soft, green turf, I cast my maiden fly. It was a very fine- 
 looking fellow, made up of gorgeously colored silks and 
 feathers, and seemed to me to be of so attractive a charac 
 ter that no gay young trout would be able to resist making 
 its acquaintance. But either the trout in that stream are 
 old, staid fellows, who are not to be seduced by glitter and 
 show, or else there are none there ; for although I tried 
 many flies of many kinds, and went from pool to pool, 
 never a trout blessed my vision through the entire day, 
 and only one fish attempted to take my fly ; and he, from 
 the voracity which he evinced, and the scientific way in
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 29 
 
 which he snapped off the fly from the line, I am inclined 
 to think was a pickerel. 
 
 Of course I met with many misadventures before the 
 day was ended. I broke one rod ; I entangled my line 
 many times in the roots of trees and sunken rocks ; I 
 landed my wife s bonnet, which I took off of her head with 
 a whirl of the rod, once, at least, in the centre of the 
 stream ; I caught my eldest boy just under the right ear 
 with a hook that would fly off in a tangent, an act which 
 cost me a good draught from my private flask, poured on a 
 handkerchief and applied to the wound to stop the bleed 
 ing ; I slipped off of slimy rocks numerous times, and 
 once, unfortunately, when I had the baby in my arms. I 
 managed, however, to save the youthful scion of my house 
 from a ducking, and only got a rebuke of a trying nature 
 from my wife for my carelessness. 
 
 " Carelessness be hanged ! " I replied, as I placed the 
 baby unharmed in her arms ; " it was n t that, but the slime 
 on the rocks. You just try to walk across that point your 
 self, my dear, and if you don t measure your length in the 
 water, I 11 agree to being called careless." 
 
 Mrs. Gray indignantly declined to comply with my re 
 quest, and gave me to understand that it would be well for 
 me to go and dry myself before I approached her again. 
 
 " I am dry," I replied ; and I proved it by taking a long 
 draught from my private flask. 
 
 To crown all, it began at noon to rain, commencing with 
 a heavy shower, which wet us all thoroughly, including the 
 little ones, who, owing to the number of tape-strings which 
 got into hard knots, and would not be untied, failed to get 
 off their garments in time to secure them from being wet 
 through. We had just got the chicken-pie and sandwiches 
 distributed in handsome style upon the table-rock, and 
 were preparing to " fill our crops," as the children admon 
 ish the chickens to do, when the storm broke upon us. If 
 the pie had been composed of young ducks, instead of
 
 30 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 chickens, it might have enjoyed it ; for it was carried away 
 in the freshet, and, the last I saw of it, was going with a 
 rotary motion down the stream. The sandwiches, fortu 
 nately, were not carried away ; and though they might be 
 said to have been mustered out of the regular service, for 
 the mustard was all washed out from between them, and 
 they were soaked with rain and floated from the table, yet, 
 after the storm had expended its fury, they were all re 
 covered and made to do excellent service in allaying the 
 hunger of the children. 
 
 After a while, when the storm had somewhat abated, 
 and the rain came down only in a weak, unpleasant drizzle, 
 we went stragglingly home. Dry clothes, hot tea, and a 
 game of blind-man s-buff, restored the healthy tone of the 
 family, and, at peace with all the world, we went to rest.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 31 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Fourth of July. What the Parson said in his Sermon. Its Sad Effect on 
 the Minds of the Children. I correct the Deplorable Impression. 
 Fireworks. A Fishing- Scheme. A Visit to my Mother-in-law pro 
 posed. It is unexpectedly prevented. My Mother-in-law s Arrival 
 Patriotic Noises. Cold Punch. In the Evening. 
 
 little ones are much excited over the prospect 
 of soon having a Fourth of July to celebrate. 
 They were a little in doubt, until I reassured 
 them, whether we would have a Fourth of July this year. 
 Since peace had been declared, and they had heard the 
 Parson, in one of his sermons, say, as they related it to 
 me, that all the swords were to be turned into pruning- 
 hooks, the muskets into ploughshares, and the cannon 
 into anchors, they could n t see how the soldiers were to 
 be armed, so as to " turn out " on that day, nor how there 
 could be any firing of guns. And you can t have a Fourth 
 of July, you know, they said, unless you have pistols and 
 guns, and such things, to load and fire off, and make a 
 noise. " Well, I don t know about that," I said, " for after 
 all the main thing on this day is to make a show, and also 
 some noise. And with plenty of feathers, and flags, and 
 shoulder-straps, and music, these matters can be accom 
 plished. Besides," I added, " if there be no guns to con 
 sume powder, there will of course be more left with which 
 to make fireworks. And if I remember rightly the expe 
 riences of past Fourths of July, considerable noise can be 
 produced with crackers, double-headers, and torpedoes." 
 
 The idea of there being more fireworks in existence on 
 the coming Fourth, fully reconciled my little ones to the 
 loss of the swords and muskets ; and, taking advantage of
 
 32 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 this acknowledgment on my part, they made me promise 
 to lay in a larger supply than usual of fireworks. 
 
 But I told them we might all possibly go to their grand 
 mother s to spend the day, and in that case they would 
 have to be contented with a less number of fireworks, and 
 a larger supply of cakes and peaches. The fact is that 
 several of my artist friends had asked me to join them on 
 a fishing excursion, to take place on that day, and I was 
 desirous of going. 
 
 My wife, as I knew very well, however, would not con 
 sent to my being absent from home on this day, unless 
 she could accompany me. Under usual circumstances 
 this would have been impracticable, but in the present 
 instance I thought it might be accomplished. To my 
 satisfaction I found that the lake to which the party pro 
 posed going, was in the neighborhood where my wife s 
 mother resided. I knew it would not do to let my wife 
 know my plans, for she would then never consent to mak 
 ing her mother, as I hoped she would, a visit. So, a few 
 mornings previous to the Fourth, just as I was on the 
 point of departing for town, I suggested to my wife the 
 propriety of taking with us the children and going to 
 Coney Island on the coming national anniversary. Of 
 course my crinoline half laughed at the idea. 
 
 " Then, my dear," I said, " perhaps we had better go to 
 the city." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " and have the children burnt to 
 death with fire-crackers, and pistols, and all those kind of 
 things. No, no," she continued ; " I ve seen all the Fourths 
 of July in town that I wish to see. Did n t that blessed 
 little boy singe off his eyebrows and eyelashes with gun- 
 power last year, and come near in the evening to being 
 carried off bodily into the air by a bundle of rockets, 
 which he carelessly managed to light, while untying them ? 
 I tell you I am going to stay out here where there are no 
 fireworks to be let off."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 33 
 
 " Perhaps you don t know," I said, " that several of my 
 artist friends have declared to me their intention of comincr 
 
 O 
 
 out here to spend the day, and are going to bring a large 
 amount of fireworks with them ? " 
 
 " Then," said my wife, quite excited, " you can have the 
 benefit of their society, for I will take the children and go 
 and visit my mother. How fortunate that I should have 
 thought of it, and my dear mother, how glad she will be 
 to see us ! " 
 
 " But, my love," I interposed, " I do not think we had 
 better go there." 
 
 " But I do," she answered. 
 
 And so the affair was settled. 
 
 I congratulated myself on the way to town, with the re 
 sult of my diplomacy. During the day I told my friends 
 that I would join them at the lake, for I doubted not I 
 should be able to slip away from my mother-in-law s for 
 a day s fishing. 
 
 But how vain are all human calculations. Man, indeed, 
 proposes, but God disposes. At the very hour when my 
 wife, my children, and myself, were arraying ourselves in 
 travelling garments ; when the carriage that was to bear 
 us to the cars was approaching the door ; and when my 
 wife was giving the final directions to Kitty to keep the 
 street-door locked, and on no account to admit into the 
 house her cousins Mike, nor Pat, nor Tim, nor the rest 
 of them, during our absence, up drove another carriage 
 than the one we expected, and from it alighted oh ! 
 unpropitious fate ! my wife s mother. She had come 
 to pass the Fourth with us, to witness the fireworks, 
 and see the sights generally. Of course our trip was post 
 poned. I suggested once or twice the propriety of my 
 going to see that my mother-in-law s house was not set 
 on fire by stray rockets, but my wife said it would be treat 
 ing her mother disrespectfully should I leave home ; so 
 that I was fain to close my lips on the subject, and en- 
 3
 
 34 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 deavor to have the old lady enjoy her visit as much as 
 possible. 
 
 At last the Fourth came. My eldest boy, a lad of ten 
 years, ushered it in by firing off a small cannon in his bed 
 room, which apartment adjoins the chamber occupied by 
 his grandmother, my esteemed wife s esteemed mother. 
 The old lady was somewhat astonished by this, which was 
 not at all decreased when Miss Em. let off a package of 
 fire-crackers in the hall near her chamber door. At length, 
 when she made her appearance in the breakfast-room, she 
 was saluted with a shower of torpedoes, scattered by the 
 hands of my seven-years -old girl, and in shaking hands 
 with the baby, managed to explode a pulling cracker which 
 the latter had clutched in his chubby fist. 
 
 These little patriotic noises gave my esteemed mother- 
 in-law a headache, so that instead of asking me to go to 
 town with her, as she had hinted to my wife, the evening 
 
 / */ O 
 
 before, that she should, to view the military and the rev 
 ellers, she was satisfied to remain at home, much to my 
 secret satisfaction, where she found consolation in dip 
 ping into a bowl containing cold claret punch, which I 
 had prepared for my own especial comfort. I do not know 
 but that the day passed quite as pleasantly with me as if 
 I had been up to my knees in water among lily-pads and 
 rushes and slimy grasses, catching fish. My friends, of 
 course, missed me more than I did them. I watched the 
 children with their cannon and crackers, and thought of 
 the days when I was as partial to these things as any of 
 them. Whether my mother-in-law imbibed courage with 
 the punch, or had become used to the din around her, 
 towards evening she proposed going up to my savage lit 
 erary friend s to see the fireworks, for I had told her that 
 he had laid in a large supply. I said it was dangerous to 
 go there. She was not afraid, she replied ; and besides, 
 was she not born in the days of 76 ? and was she not the 
 daughter of a soldier who had fought in many of the bat-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 35 
 
 ties of the Revolution, and as such should she not cele 
 brate the day by beholding the fireworks ? 
 
 " Certainly," I replied ; and so forming a somewhat im 
 posing procession, with the American flag waving, and 
 bearing on my shoulder my assortment of rockets which 
 I proposed to unite with those of my friend s, we marched 
 thither. 
 
 Our combined efforts enabled us to get up an exhibition 
 worthy of the occasion. It was, without doubt, the finest 
 display of fireworks anywhere to be witnessed in the vil 
 lage. It comprised a large number of rockets, that left a 
 train of sparks to mark their course, and which burst in 
 mid-heaven, pouring a flood of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, 
 and amethysts down upon the earth. Miniature volcanoes 
 sent forth a shower of golden stars, and, at last, with a 
 loud report, shot up into the sky hundreds of fiery ser 
 pents. Bengola lights emitted lurid flames, lighting up 
 the entire neighborhood, and disclosing boys in the trees 
 and lovers upon the sidewalks. Immense wheels, dazzling 
 in their brilliancy and changing in their colors, like the 
 kaleidoscope, now tinging the faces of the assembly with 
 a sickly, yellow hue, anon casting a bluish glare, and finally 
 spreading a roseate light over all, glared and whizzed like 
 demons on a lark. Thus my neighbor and myself cele 
 brated the evening of the Fourth. The children were 
 greatly delighted, my wife was pleased, and my esteemed 
 mother-in-law declared it was worth coming all the way 
 from her home to see, and she hoped that none of us 
 would ever go where fireworks are more brilliant and 
 lasting than were these. 
 
 My esteemed wife s mother went home the next day.
 
 36 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 An Arrival at Woodbine. A Literary Young Lady; her Manuscript; her 
 Opinion of Mr. Gray. Pouting Keel Lips. Twilight and Moonlight. 
 Almost a Flirtation. That s why. Saved. My Neighbor s Fowls. 
 Corn vs. Tomatoes. Amputating a Wing. Dog Jack. A Red Calf. 
 A Connection. The Result. 
 
 |r?/>E have had another arrival at Woodbine Cottage. 
 No sooner did my mother-in-law leave us than 
 her place in the family circle was filled by a 
 young lady of literary proclivities. She came, one day, 
 just as we were about sitting down to dinner, and brought 
 with her a roll of manuscript and a good appetite. She 
 wished me to read the former, while she assuaged the 
 latter. I protested, but she insisted, and declared that 
 it would not take me long to read it. I was really sorry 
 to hear her say that, as I was quite charmed with her 
 appearance, and had hoped that our interview might be 
 protracted into the small hours of the night. However, 
 I told her that, if it was as brief as she represented, I 
 would prefer to eat my dinner first, and then there would 
 be ample time for reading it afterward. She shook 
 her head, but when my wife said that she could remain 
 all night if necessary, she relented, and her countenance 
 brightened materially. I may as well mention here that 
 she was not an entire stranger either to me or to my 
 wife, but I had made her acquaintance, a few years ago, 
 when occupying an editorial chair. She used to write 
 some pleasant little stories then, which were published 
 in the columns of the " Home Journal," and won for her a 
 reputation among its readers. She formed rather a high 
 opinion, in those days, of my critical acumen, and used
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 37 
 
 to favor me with her manuscripts for my opinion as to 
 their literary merits. I tried to make my criticism as 
 favorable as possible, though I may not always have 
 been correct. Indeed, there were instances in which 
 I passed judgment upon her stories without having read 
 them ; but, at such times, by skilful cross-questioning 
 on her part, she generally managed to fix this disgrace 
 ful fact upon me, and then, with much seeming coolness 
 of manner and pouting of red lips, which I would have 
 liked to, but did not, kiss, she would gather up her manu 
 scripts in silence, and go proudly away. She had very 
 pretty ways, withal, and would glance at me, sometimes, 
 in an inquiring fashion, out of her soft, brown eyes, which 
 would have put my heart, if it had been a bachelor s, 
 into a terrible flutter, and have tempted me to wish that 
 she might always be coming to the office with manuscript 
 for me to read. 
 
 She used to tell me that she intended to accomplish 
 something very fine one of these days ; and, as I saw 
 the maiden had talent, I said much to encourage her, 
 and gave her any quantity of good advice, which she 
 may or may not have followed. I am inclined, however, 
 to think that she did follow it. The manuscript which 
 she brought with her to Woodbine Cottage turned out 
 to be a good deal longer than I had any idea of, and, 
 instead of my being able to peruse it that evening, I find 
 myself, though a week has passed, still engaged upon it. 
 My wife, however, fails to see the necessity of my spend 
 ing so much time over it, especially since she herself 
 was able to read it through in one afternoon. 
 
 " Ah ! yes," I said, " but you did not read it critically, 
 my dear, as I am doing. Every sentence has to be duly 
 weighed and talked over, and that takes time, you know." 
 
 ik Yes," she replied ; " I have observed that you and 
 Miss Floy spend a great deal of time over it, and it has 
 sometimes occurred to me that you talk much irrelevant
 
 38 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 matter not connected with the subject of her manuscript. 
 I don t see, either, what walking down to the Bronx 
 in the twilight, and sitting on the veranda in the moon 
 light, with her, has to do with it. It is all very well 
 for young unmarried critics to do thus ; but for a staid 
 father of a family, like yourself, who is getting bald, 
 and whose beard is rather more than tinged with gray, 
 it does not seem to me to be exactly the proper thing. 
 It is not what I call legitimate criticism, but looks much 
 more like a flirtation." 
 
 " Good heavens ! my dear," I exclaimed ; " I really 
 believe you are correct. Why, the very thought nearly 
 frightens me to death. It would be too bad if, at my 
 age, and after the many years of happiness we have 
 passed together, I should, at this late day, take to flirt 
 ing with a literary young woman. Good gracious ! it 
 is terrible to contemplate. Xo more moonlight and Bronx 
 for me, Miss Floy, if you please." 
 
 " Why not, I should like to know ? " asked the young 
 lady in question, who entered the library just as I had 
 uttered these words. 
 
 " Why not ? " I exclaimed ; " because because," I 
 faltered, "the atmosphere is inclined to be damp at 
 night, and I m afraid you may take cold and be ill, and 
 I don t wish to have a sick literary young woman on 
 my hands. That s why ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, in a tone, I thought, which implied 
 a great deal more than she uttered. 
 
 I am very grateful to Mrs. Gray for calling my atten 
 tion to the matter. If she had not, I might have gone 
 on and on ever so far with Miss Floy, till I might have 
 been tempted to take her hand and press it, and even 
 have kissed her, which would have been very imprudent, 
 not to say naughty, in me to do. Love-making is a very 
 pretty pastime if you re unmarried, and it fits very nicely 
 into moonlight nights and twilight ramblings. But it
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 39 
 
 won t do for a married man. He is almost certain of 
 being caught at it, and besides, even if the wife did n t 
 find it out, why, some one else would, and would reveal 
 it to her, and then there would be a pretty time in the 
 family. I don t mean to say that I have been making 
 love to Miss Floy, or she to me ; but it did seem to be 
 tending toward it. To prevent anything, therefore, of 
 that nature from actually taking place, I shall invite a 
 young bachelor friend to stay at my house while Miss 
 Floy and her manuscript remain with us. 
 
 I have had much trouble, lately, with my neighbor s 
 fowls. They are continually getting into my garden and 
 eating my tomatoes as fast as they ripen. My own fowls 
 are shut up in the hennery, greatly, doubtless, to their 
 wonder and disgust. The young roosters, I observe, are 
 continually fighting each other, and it is no unusual thing 
 for me, when I return home in the afternoon, to find 
 one or two completely used-up chanticleers laid out on 
 the floor of the hennery. I shut them up to save my 
 tomatoes ; but, as through shutting them up I am losing 
 them, and at the same time losing my tomatoes by outside 
 robbery, I don t think I shall make much by it. Even 
 before they began murdering each other, my wife said 
 she thought it would cost more to feed them with corn 
 than the tomatoes they might eat would come to, and she 
 thought the better way to keep them out of the garden 
 would be to clip their wings, so that they could not fly 
 over the garden fence. I tried it on one, but he bled 
 so after I had finished, and seemed to suffer so much 
 pain, that I declared I would n t do so cruel an act again 
 for all the tomatoes in the world. He died that day, 
 bled to death, I think, and his amputated wings kept 
 flying around me, in my sleep, for two or three nights 
 thereafter, reminding me, closely, of the cherubs carved 
 on ancient tombstones, all head and wings, though 
 wings alone were his allowance. Mrs. Gray persists in
 
 40 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 saying that I should have cut off only the feathered por 
 tion of his wings, and not subjected the bony and fleshy 
 part to the shears. But I think, if it s done at all, it s 
 best to make a clean sweep of it, and never leave the 
 fowl a ghost of a chance ever to fly again. I am sure 
 the aforementioned one never did, and I know, if I suc 
 ceed in catching any of my neighbor s cocks and hens, 
 they never will. 
 
 I came very near to catching one alive the other day, 
 and, if I had, I would have made an example of him. 
 As it was, my savage friend s dog, Jack, which I borrowed 
 for the purpose, chased and caught the finest long-tailed, 
 red-combed rooster which my neighbor owned ; but, un 
 fortunately, he killed him before I could get at him to 
 cut his wings. That same dog, when, the following day, 
 I set him on a dilapidated old hen, who was fattening 
 herself on my biggest and ripest tomatoes, took it into 
 his head to seize the red calf of the wild Irish girl, who 
 attends to the pot and kettle branch of the housekeep 
 ing dow r n in the kitchen, which she unwittingly and 
 temptingly displayed before him. The result was a ter 
 rible outcry and commotion in the garden, the loss of 
 the exile s services as a scrub, a suit brought against my 
 savage literary friend for damages to her feelings and 
 person, and the surgeon s bill, which I have agreed to 
 pay.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 41 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Our Policeman. Our Silver and Jewels. Police Duties. How we were 
 shocked. A Night Alarm. Burglars. A Bat. In the Basement. 
 Naked Feet. Other Feet. Miss Floy s Courage. An Owl. Cats. 
 The First Shot. The Result. A Charge. An Outside Attack. 
 Several Shots. A Recognition. Liberation. Explanations. The 
 Toast. 
 
 have a policeman in our village. He is a very 
 nice-looking fellow, and gets himself up in fine 
 style. The regulation uniform of blue, ornament 
 ed with the representative brass buttons, fits him uncom 
 monly well. When I first discovered him, a day or two 
 after our arrival, just at nightfall, going by Woodbine Cot 
 tage, I called my wife s attention to him, and expatiated, 
 at some length, upon the benefit which might arise from 
 his proximity to our residence. 
 
 " If a burglar, my dear," I said, " should attempt, some 
 dark night, to force his way into our dwelling, despite the 
 bolts and bars with which our doors and windows are se 
 cured, to get at our silver and jeAvels," here Mrs. Gray 
 looked at the spoons on the table and the wedding-ring on 
 her finger, " it will be a satisfaction to know that such a 
 bold and brave-looking policeman is about." 
 
 " Of course," said my wife ; " and I suppose, too, that if 
 wandering cows or pigs get into the garden in the night, 
 he will be polite enough to drive them out." 
 
 " Oh, yes," I replied ; " I believe that, in the rural dis 
 tricts, this is one of their prescribed duties." 
 
 The sight of that policeman certainly was a source of 
 much comfort to both my wife and myself. We felt much 
 more secure at night, believing him to be keeping faithful 
 watch and guard about our humble cottage, than we should
 
 42 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 otherwise have felt. It was with a feeling of unusual satis 
 faction that I used to see that policeman, in the early 
 dawn, while I was performing my morning ablutions, going 
 homeward past our cottage. He never appeared weary, as 
 one would expect a policeman who is up all night to be ; 
 but he strode along, in the dewy dawn, with the freshness 
 of a morning-glory and the vigor of an elm. He looked as 
 if he enjoyed the matin songs of the birds ; but, most of all, 
 it seemed to me as if he was getting up a good appetite, 
 and would be thoroughly ready for his breakfast of ham 
 and eggs when he got } lome . 
 
 oo o 
 
 Every one in Woodbine Cottage, from the eldest to the 
 youngest, felt the safer for the proximity of that police 
 man. In starlight and moonlight nights, when the air 
 was chilly and when it was warm, when it rained and 
 when it was clear, when the winds blew and when they 
 were whist, we all slept the more peacefully for his wake- 
 fulness ; and, if a passing footstep disturbed our slumbers, 
 we only roused up enough to say to one another, " It is, 
 doubtless, our policeman on his round ; let us shut our 
 eyes again and go to sleep." 
 
 Possessed of this confidence in his watchfulness, it was, 
 therefore, with a degree of disappointment which words 
 cannot express that we learned that the policeman whom 
 we had fondly imagined to be our policeman was not, and 
 never had been, ours, but was enrolled in and belonged to 
 the Metropolitan Police Department, and went nightly to 
 his field of labor somewhere within the boundaries of New 
 York island. It was a great shock to us when we ascer 
 tained this fact, and, until I got a brace of revolvers, we 
 used to go to bed with much fear and trembling. 
 
 One night, after I had discovered that we did not own a 
 policeman in our village, I .was aroused from my slumbers 
 by a singular noise, which proceeded from the basement, 
 resembling very much that which might be produced by 
 some one forcing the door at the head of the stairs. My
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 43 
 
 wife, who is a very resolute woman, was the first to hear it, 
 and called my attention to it by nudging me violently with 
 her elbows in the region where my heart has its abid 
 ing-place, and whispering in an ominous tone the word 
 thieves ! As my sleep had been disturbed by dreams of 
 robbers and garroters, I was fully prepared to learn that 
 burglars were holding high-carnival down-stairs. A lamp 
 was dimly burning in the upper hall, the light from which 
 shone dimly through the open door into my room, casting 
 weird shadows, which rose and fell in a mysterious manner, 
 as the night wind blew fitfully upon it through the raised 
 window-sash. Once I thought that the shadow of a man s 
 head moved swiftly across the ceiling, and I instinctively 
 listened to hear the sound of his footsteps in the passage 
 way. But nothing followed, only the shadow went back 
 across the ceiling, and passed swiftly out of the chamber 
 door. 
 
 " What the deuce do you suppose that is ? " I asked, in 
 a subdued tone. My wife replied that she did n t know, 
 but that she had been watching it. and wondering, for sev 
 eral minutes, from what it proceeded. It would appear 
 and disappear in a moment, and sometimes it was accom 
 panied with a rustling noise, as if it had wings. 
 
 " Wings ! " I exclaimed ; " yes, yes, I see what it is now," 
 as it whirled into and out of the room again at that mo 
 ment ; " it is a bat." 
 
 " A bat ! " my wife screamed, forgetful of the robbers 
 down below ; " goodness, how you frighten me ! They re 
 the bloodthirsty things that suck children s breaths, are 
 they not?" 
 
 " Not that I have ever heard," I replied. " To cats, not 
 bats, my dear, are ascribed such horrible proclivities." 
 
 " Hark I " she whispered, grasping my arm ; " there is 
 that noise again down-stairs, and good gracious ! what 
 is that ? " 
 
 This last exclamation was called forth by a sound, as of
 
 44 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 warning, uttered in a low semi-tone, which evidently pro 
 ceeded from a confederate on watch outside, just beneath 
 our window, and who, doubtless, had discovered that we 
 were awake and alarmed. 
 
 " Hand the baby to me from his tender," my wife added, 
 " and you go and see if it be really burglars who are dis 
 turbing our rest." 
 
 Slipping on my dressing-gown, and arming myself with 
 a Colt s revolver, which I took from its case, which I keep 
 in my dressing-table drawer, and taking the lamp in my 
 unarmed hand, I proceeded resolutely to the head of the 
 stairs leading down into the hall. Just as I reached it, my 
 literary young lady, whose manuscript is still unfinished, 
 aroused by our movements, softly opened the door of her 
 room, and appeared before me in the most charming of 
 night toilets, bordered with little frills, and edgings, and 
 bits of lace, and asked what was the matter. 
 
 When I whispered the word " burglar," she turned very 
 pale, but compressed her lips resolutely, and gave me to 
 understand, by going back to her room and returning with 
 my famous charter-oak cane in her hand, that she would 
 accompany me. 
 
 There is a good deal of comfort experienced, when look 
 ing for burglars, in catching sight of a pair of bare, white 
 little feet, as they come tripping down the stairway to join 
 you in your dangerous explorations. To be sure, those feet 
 do not, and never may, belong to you. Perhaps, for that 
 very reason, they are the more interesting to you than they 
 would otherwise be. You know all about the grace and 
 beauty pertaining to your wife s feet, and have doubtless 
 often seen them sink into the velvet rug at the side of your 
 bed. You know the exact size of the gaiter-boot she wears, 
 and have been commissioned, time and again, to bring 
 home to her a new pair. Not always, to be sure, are you 
 successful in fitting her with the first pair ; but then it is 
 no more than proper for a husband to run between his
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 45 
 
 wife s feet and a shoemaker at least five or six times before 
 he obtains the correct " fit." You have put her slippers 
 on, and laced her gaiters for her many a time, and know 
 all about the ins and outs of those blessed pedals ; but the 
 naked little feet of another woman you are presumed to 
 know nothing about ; and when, therefore, they come danc 
 ing behind you after midnight, helping to catch burglars, 
 as Miss Floy s did with me, you can t very well avoid look 
 ing at and admiring them. 
 
 When we reached the door at the head of the stairs, I 
 stopped to listen before drawing the bolt. All was silent, 
 save the chirp of a cricket, which had a home in a crevice 
 of the unused fireplace ; but outside again arose the singu 
 lar cry of the confederate burglar, in a long-drawn sepul 
 chral note. 
 
 " Do you hear that ? " I asked. " That is the burglar 
 keeping watch outside." 
 
 " ^Nonsense," said Miss Floy ; " that is an owl." 
 
 " An owl ! " I exclaimed. " Well, then, I 11 bet there is 
 no burg ar inside." 
 
 And I courageously opened the door, and walked delib 
 erately down the stairs. There was a fierce rush for a 
 Avindow ; a rattle of tin pans ; a discharge of one barrel 
 of my pistol ; screams of agony ; a heavy fall ; and one 
 out of a half-dozen cats, which escaped through a broken 
 pane of glass, fell upon the floor. 
 
 Then my wife above-stairs began to scream murder, 
 putting her head out of the window, the better to let the 
 neighbors hear her, and Miss Floy, who had remained at 
 the head of the stairs with the lamp in her hand, as soon 
 as the pistol was fired, hastened frightened away, letting 
 the door, which had a spring-lock, only to be opened from 
 the hall, close upon me, leaving me in darkness and sur 
 rounded by I did n t know how many wild and dying cats. 
 From the violent way in which that feline monster trav 
 elled around the kitchen, I thought there must be at least
 
 46 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 three or four of them, and I expected every moment that 
 one of them would attack my unprotected legs. Once, 
 when he got into the flour-barrel, I thought I had him, and 
 immediately fired my pistol into it ; but the only result 
 was a scattering of flour all over me, and a seeming multi 
 plication of the number of cats. That old Tom appeared 
 to be alive in nine places at one moment. Spirits could n t 
 be more active ; the servants cups and saucers rolled off 
 of the dresser ; the handle* of the coffee-mill whirled round ; 
 the tea-kettle fell from the range ; the dripping-pan was 
 tossed over the iron pot, which struck against the sauce 
 pan, and which in turn fell with a crash upon a lot of 
 empty bottles. At last the stove-pipe gave way, under an 
 impetuous charge, and, taking a flying leap over my shoul 
 ders, grimalkin lodged on the top step of the stairway, next 
 to the door. Here was a dilemma. I knew the cat must 
 be an exceedingly vicious one, for all the cats in our neigh 
 borhood are, and, under his present state of excitement, 
 he would be likely to attack any one who might open the 
 door above him or attempt to drive him away from below. 
 I was much afraid that my wife or Miss Floy, one of whom 
 would of course, I thought, come down to see what was 
 detaining me. would open the door and admit the cat to 
 the upper part of the house, and in passing he would un 
 doubtedly attack whoever was standing there. 
 
 The outcry my wife made from the upper window had, I 
 discovered, borne fruit, and I could hear, through the 
 broken window, the voice of my savage literary friend, 
 who, at the front of the house, was parleying with the in 
 mates to get in. But they, thinking that he was one of 
 the burglars, refused to let him in, and resolutely shut 
 and barred the window. I tried to make him hear me ; 
 but, what with being at the rear of the house, and the 
 noise the night breeze made as it rustled through the 
 waving corn at the side of the house, my voice failed to 
 reach his ears. I would have gotten out of the window,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 47 
 
 but it was screwed down ; and, though cats could go 
 through the broken pane, it would have been impossible 
 for me to have passed after them. I did n t like to attack 
 the cat crouched, ready for a spring, on the stairway, and I 
 was afraid to fire at it again lest I might shoot some one 
 through the door. I wondered, too, why neither my wife 
 nor Miss Floy had come to my assistance, and only learned, 
 after I succeeded in getting out of my cell, that both, after 
 the appearance of the supposed outside burglar, had in- 
 gloriously fainted. 
 
 At last a happy idea struck me. I would fire another 
 barrel of my pistol out of the window, and that would at 
 tract my savage literary friend to my side of the house. I 
 no sooner thought of this than I acted upon it bang 
 went my pistol. Scarcely had the report subsided, when 
 bang went a pistol outside, and, to my astonishment and 
 fear, I heard the ball strike the wall close beside me. 
 
 " What the deuce do you mean by that ? " I cried. 
 
 " Surrender, surrender, you bloody villain you, or I 11 
 put another ball right through your heart ! " was all the 
 consolation I got from my savage literary friend outside. 
 " I ve got you fairly covered, you rascal, and you can t hit 
 me, for I m behind the big tree ; but I 11 send you to the 
 other world directly if you don t throw your pistol right 
 out of the window into the yard." 
 
 As I knew my friend was a determined chap, and cared 
 no more for killing a fellow-creature he d been off to 
 the wars with the old Sixty-ninth Regiment than I 
 would for killing a cat, I thought it, under the circum 
 stances, wise to surrender. So, without another word, I 
 threw the pistol through the window, and, as it happened 
 to be cocked, which I had forgotten, it exploded with a 
 report that not only astonished but alarmed me. 
 
 " Oh ! you villain you ! " exclaimed my savage literary 
 friend, "but you came near killing me that time. It s 
 only the tree saved me from being a dead man. But I 11 
 fix you out now."
 
 48 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, Jack ! " I exclaimed, " don t fire 
 again, and I 11 surrender body and soul." 
 
 " What, what ! " he exclaimed ; " is that you, Barry ? 
 I thought it was some infernal burglar. What are you 
 about down there ? Why don t you go up-stairs ? " 
 
 " For the very good reason," I answered, " that I cannot. 
 The door is fastened, and I can t get it open. Come into 
 the house and let me out." 
 
 " They won t let me in," he replied. 
 
 " They ! " I exclaimed. " Who do you mean by they ? 
 Surely there are n t any burglars in the house, after all, are 
 there?" 
 
 " I don t know," he replied ; " but your wife and Miss 
 Floy refused to let me in. They took me, I believe, for a 
 burglar. They were making a terrible outcry at one 
 time, but they ve been remarkably quiet for the last five 
 minutes. I 11 try the front of the house again, and see 
 what can be done." 
 
 Fortunately my wife had recovered her consciousness, 
 and, when my friend called her by name, recognized his 
 voice, and after a little explanation, came down-stairs and 
 let him in. He immediately came to the kitchen-door to 
 open it for me, and though the unfortunate cat was far 
 gone toward that bourne where no caterwauls are heard, he 
 yet retained sufficient life to utter a protest against my 
 friend s stepping upon him, in the shape of several sharp 
 claws inserted into his right leg. 
 
 The exclamation my friend made was not of a most 
 Christian character, and I truly believe that, for a moment, 
 he thought the burglars had really got him ; but when he 
 saw me, all covered with flour, my face, hair, and dress 
 ing gown thick with it, he forgot his pain, and laughed 
 heartily at my appearance. 
 
 But all s well that ends well, and though some of us 
 were materially frightened by the events of the night, yet, 
 after we had assembled together in the library, and had
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 49 
 
 related our several experiences, and a bottle of California 
 hock had been opened, and each had drank my friend s 
 toast of The Lord love ye," we once more retired, thank 
 ful that nothing really evil had happened to any one of us, 
 to our peaceful rest, where we passed the remainder of the 
 night undisturbed by burglars or the fear of them.
 
 50 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 An Artists Convention at Woodbine Cottage. Salt Codfish. A Mir 
 acle desired. The Stark Blood. Hampers. Scarcity of Bed 
 rooms. The Remedy. A Calumny ; how I refuted it. Mint- 
 Juleps; where they were invented; a good Time to drink them. 
 Who my Friends were. 
 
 of my artist friends have been visiting 
 Woodbine Cottage. They came out in a body 
 one Saturday afternoon, and brought their ra 
 tions with them. As they proposed to stay until the fol 
 lowing Monday morning, they were wise in so doing ; for, 
 though Mrs. Gray had provided munificently for the family 
 proper, yet she had not laid in a sufficient store of the 
 good things of this life to have satisfied, in a hospitable 
 manner, the additional appetites which gathered around 
 our mahogany. Even before Mrs. B. G. knew that they 
 were going to remain with us all night, she was in a state 
 of the greatest excitement in regard to getting them a 
 dinner. 
 
 " One cannot expect," she very justly remarked, " that 
 ten hungry men and I never knew any one to come 
 from town who was not as hungry as a bear when he got 
 here will be satisfied with the simple salt codfish and 
 potatoes which you, adhering to the fashion of your Nan- 
 tucket ancestors, will persist in having for your Saturday s 
 dinner. How often have I told you that Friday was fish- 
 day, and not Saturday ? " 
 
 " Why," I, exclaimed, interrupting her, " I should say it 
 would average about fifty-two times a year since our mar 
 riage, and that would make it " 
 
 " Never mind, Mr. Gray," she continued, " about figur 
 ing that up now. Pray talk sensibly for a moment."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 51 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I replied ; " but what do you 
 wish me to say ? " 
 
 " I don t wish you to say anything, but I want you to do 
 something. IShow me how I can, with that one small cod 
 fish, provide your friends with a dinner." 
 
 " Let me think a moment," I said. After a pause, dur 
 ing which I gazed steadily into my wife s face, the expres 
 sion on which was of the most hopeless character, I added : 
 " If a miracle, my dear, could be wrought, similar to 
 that which occurred early in the Christian era, when a 
 multitude was fed with several small fishes, to say nothing 
 of a few loaves of bread, we might hope to satisfy our 
 visitors ; but as we cannot expect an intervention of that 
 kind in our favor, why, I think the best plan will be to tell 
 our friends " 
 
 " Tour friends, not mine, Mr. Gray," interrupted my 
 wife ; " if they were mine, they would have more consider 
 ation for me, and not have come here so unexpectedly." 
 
 " I think the best plan will be," I repeated, not heeding 
 my wife s remark, " for me to tell them that we have been 
 to dinner ever so long ago, and that, if they re hungry, 
 they had better go to the hotel and order dinner there." 
 
 " Never ! Mr. Gray," my wife exclaimed, energetically, 
 " as long as there is a chicken in the coop, a potato, an ear 
 of corn, and a tomato growing in the garden, would I do 
 so disgraceful a thing. I d get dinner for them if there 
 were fifty instead of ten, and I knew I should die in 
 doing it." 
 
 The old Stark blood, which, fortunately, was not spilled 
 at the battle of Bennington, was stirred in her veins, and 
 she appeared equal to the emergency. 
 
 Just at that moment, when I began to fear that my favor 
 ite cocks and hens might suffer decapitation, an express- 
 wagon drove up to the door, and several hampers were 
 lifted out of it and brought into the house. Their contents 
 were speedily produced, and my wife had the agreeable
 
 52 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 satisfaction of knowing that, even if my friends should 
 remain with us a week, the provisions would hold out until 
 the end. 
 
 Although the question as to how my friends were to be 
 fed was thus happily set at rest, it still remained a source 
 of anxiety with me as to how they were to be disposed of 
 when night came. I had, in reality, but one spare bed 
 room, and that was already occupied by my literary young 
 lady. It would not be exactly the thing, I reasoned, to ask 
 her to remove herself, with her extra hoops, frilled skirts, 
 gaiter boots, and other interesting paraphernalia of a young 
 woman s wardrobe, which, in passing her room when the 
 door was open, I had noticed displayed alluringly, but, I 
 must confess, negligently, on the chairs and floor of the 
 apartment, to the nursery, that thereby a couple of artists 
 might the better be accommodated. And even if she 
 should, it would only put two of my friends to bed, and 
 then, " What would become of the others ? " would still 
 remain an unanswered question. To be sure, the sofa in 
 the library would hold one more, and the extension-table 
 in the dining-room might be drawn out to its fullest length, 
 fourteen feet, and on it four more, if they would be careful 
 in turning over, might manage to get a wink of sleep. 
 Thus seven would be disposed of, and chairs and the floor 
 would have to be the couches of the remainder. I ar 
 ranged this thus in my mind, but it was far from being 
 satisfactory ; and when, therefore, my savage literary friend 
 offered to take five of them off my hands, I was extremely 
 thankful, and was encouraged to tell Mrs. Gray that my 
 friends were going to stay with us till Monday. 
 
 To my surprise, Mrs. G. said she was glad of it, for she 
 knew the greater part of the provisions they had brought 
 with them would spoil, if they did n t remain to eat it. 
 
 When I asked her where she intended to have them 
 sleep, she said she had no intentions about it, but that they 
 might sleep where they liked. There was room enough
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 53 
 
 on the floor of the dining-room for twenty men ; and she 
 rather thought, judging from the number of demijohns and 
 bottles they had brought with them, that the larger part of 
 them would probably find the floor more convenient than 
 any bed would be. 
 
 This was a calumny on the part of my wife which I re 
 futed with much feeling ; and, as she acknowledged to me 
 afterward that she was in error, I have refrained from let 
 ting my friends know of this expression. The fact is that, 
 though my artist friends, with few exceptions, can enjoy a 
 social glass, not one of them ever allows himself to pass 
 the bounds which prudence and good sense dictate as 
 proper. The result is a general feeling of conviviality, an 
 agreeable commingling of hearts, and an approach to a 
 millennium state of happiness. 
 
 The first words which my life-long friend G. uttered on 
 entering my humble domains, and which did honor alike 
 to his nice sense of smell and his fine appreciation of the 
 herbs of the earth, were, " I smell mint." The truth is 
 that, if one herb grows better than another in my garden, 
 it is mint ; and, when I saw this imposing procession of 
 artists marching two by two toward my house, I immedi 
 ately plucked a handful of mint, which I bruised against 
 the gate-posts which command the entrance to my posses 
 sions. 
 
 " For," I said to myself, " I will welcome them with sweet 
 savors, and make their tarrying with me one of pleasant 
 ness and peace." 
 
 I defy any man, I don t care who he be, who grows mint 
 in his grounds, to resist, in a summer s day, the delights of 
 a mint-julep. It is the only drink which might have been 
 made in Eden. There, in that pleasant garden where our 
 first parents spent the only innocent portion of their lives, 
 methinks the mint must have been a familiar plant. I 
 can imagine how Adam and Eve, walking in blissful inno 
 cence across the dewy fields in the early morning, convers-
 
 54 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 ing of love, were arrested in their way by the delightful per 
 fume which was exhaled by the humble plant upon which 
 their virgin footsteps trod. Adam doubtless paused to 
 pluck a few of the leaves, and, after regaling himself with 
 their savor, passed them to Eve. She, woman-like, upon 
 their return at evening to their home in that lovely bower 
 which Milton so charmingly describes, probably sought to 
 make " tea " of them. This was, however, to all intents 
 and purposes, a failure. But Adam, who knew one or two 
 more things than Eve, doubtless kept turning the matter 
 over in his mind, while chewing the mint leaves in his 
 mouth, and finally, perhaps on the very day he discovered 
 the milk in the cocoa-nut, and which, on exposure to the 
 sun, was fermented into a sort of wine, found that, by 
 steeping the sprigs of the former in the juice of the latter, 
 a new and first-class drink was thereby concocted, a 
 draught which was, as he doubtless remarked to Mrs. 
 Adam, " a jewel to the lip." This phrase, in course of 
 time, passing through the tongues of much posterity, was 
 curtailed of its fair proportions, and became at last, in our 
 day, a "julep." 
 
 Many worse things than juleps have come down to us 
 from Adam, sin and sorrow, and a whole Pandora s box 
 of suffering. 
 
 When, therefore, G., the friend of my boyhood, said he 
 smelt mint, and the grave, bald, and long-bearded TV. reit 
 erated his words, I did not wait for any one else to speak, 
 and, by the time that the last of the procession had entered 
 the gateway, a dozen goblets gleaming with ice, golden with 
 whiskey, softened with sugar, and fragrant with mint, were 
 awaiting them in the library. 
 
 It is a hot and dusty ride from the city to TVoodbine Cot 
 tage, and, in travelling it, one is apt to get very thirsty ; 
 but a mint-julep, if it be long enough, effectually cools the 
 heated blood and moistens the dusty throat. 
 
 In addition to the two friends already mentioned, the
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 55 
 
 first of whom is distinguished, in the world of art, for his 
 
 O 
 
 golden sunsets and silvery coast-scenes, and the latter, by 
 his mountain twilights and old-fashioned interiors, I had 
 the pleasure of welcoming him whose pictures of California 
 scenery have the breadth and the grandeur of the moun 
 tains and the valleys they depict. There, too, was one who 
 delights to represent upon his canvas those late autumns, 
 when the naked limbs of trees stand out against the cold, 
 gray sky, and the dry, brown leaves rustle under foot. 
 And he ^as there who painted, with poetic feeling, a 
 " Christmas Eve," wherein a troop of fairy spirits is ring 
 ing a merry peal on the brazen bell high up in the moon 
 lighted belfry of an old stone church, on a cold, clear mid 
 night. And the sculptor who brings out of the marble 
 forms of beauty ; and one who portrays your living self 
 upon the canvas ; and another who, in the guise of ani 
 mals, shows up humanity and its foibles ; and still another 
 whose genre pictures of childhood .and home-life are of the 
 tendcrest character; and, lastly, he who loves to represent 
 the snow-clad mountains of Switzerland and our own north 
 ern land, were, by ties of friendship, brought together to 
 Woodbine Cottage. 
 
 It would make too long a story were I to tell here how 
 merrily the hours, while they Avere with me, went by. The 
 songs that were sung, the tales that were told, and the puns 
 that were perpetrated may never be recorded ; but the de 
 light of that time will ever remain fresh and green in my 
 memory.
 
 56 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " The Flag of Freedom." Up a Tree. An Echo. An Artistic Event 
 J. B. Warwick, Esq. The Great and Good. A Ccrner-lot, and 
 other Lots. Per Centum. A First-class Arrival. My Artist 
 Friends. Twelve Hampers. Three Dollars per Annum. The 
 Banquet. Artist Appetites. Usual Diet. My Savage Literary 
 Friend s Song. The Genial Host. " Let us love one another." 
 Finale. 
 
 =lT had not been my intention to have written any 
 thing further than was set forth in the preceding 
 sketch concerning the visit of my artist friends 
 to Woodbine Cottage. But as the editor of the village 
 newspaper, " The Flag of Freedom," has taken the liberty 
 of chronicling in its veracious columns an account of the 
 proceedings, I am induced, knowing that the circulation of 
 the " Flag " is quite limited, and that comparatively few 
 persons would be likely to see it, to transfer it to the pages 
 of this volume. How the editor of the " Flag " became 
 possessed of the information necessary to enable him to 
 write the detailed report of the visit of my friends 
 especially the account of the dinner, at which he was not 
 present was a mystery to me, until I ascertained that 
 his chief reporter, with a zeal which was more creditable 
 to his enterprise as a journalist than to his self-respect as 
 a man, occupied, during the progress of the feast, an un 
 comfortable position on a limb of an apple-tree in the 
 orchard adjoining my garden, which not only commanded 
 an uninterrupted view through the open window of my 
 dining-room, but was within easy hearing-distance of the 
 conversation which took place at the table. This cir 
 cumstance will also account for certain mysterious sounds
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 57 
 
 which, during the progress of the dinner, reached our ears, 
 and which we ascribed to an echo. Many times during the 
 evening, when a good story had been told, and after the 
 appreciative laughter had run round the table, a subdued 
 chuckle would be heard, which seemed so like a miniature 
 edition of the Swiss mountain-artist s laugh, that we one 
 and all decided it to be the echo of his cachinnation. I 
 am no\v satisfied that it proceeded from the " Flag s " 
 reportorial representative, who doubless enjoyed to a cer 
 tain extent the festivities of the evening. However, it 
 seems to me that our reporter could have found only about 
 as much satisfaction in the entertainment as Shacabac did 
 in the first part of the feast of the Barmacide, or as Sancho 
 Panza did when the untasted dishes were placed before 
 him. 
 
 The following is the account of the proceedings taken 
 
 FROM "THE FLAG OF FREEDOM." 
 AN ARTISTIC EVENT. 
 
 " Several times, within the memory of the oldest inhab 
 itant, has our village been the sojourning place of dis 
 tinguished people. The primeval occasion, according to 
 J. B. Warwick, Esq., on which a first-class notable stopped 
 for a night s rest in our delectable hamlet, was when the 
 great and good George Washington, who enjoyed the sou 
 briquet of The Father of his Country/ put up, shortly 
 after the battle of White Plains, at the old Powell home 
 stead, situated on the other side of the railroad track, and 
 nearly opposite the corner-lot belonging to J. B. Warwick, 
 Esq., which corner-lot, together with other lands owned 
 by the same proprietor, and contiguous thereto, is, we un 
 derstand from a perfectly reliable source, for sale. Any 
 one desirous of purchasing a lot in this eligible locality, will 
 do well to communicate with us on the subject. The little 
 percentage which will go into our p&rte-monnaie, provided
 
 58 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 we dispose of one or more of these lots, although a small 
 matter, will yet enable us to add materially to our stock 
 of cigars and whiskey. 
 
 " This stoppage of the great and good, as we said 
 above, was the first event of the kind which occurred in 
 the history of our village. Since then many notables 
 have come and gone ; but we cannot stay to enumerate all 
 of the celebrated personages who have favored us in this 
 respect. We have sometimes thought that many of the 
 persons whose names are inscribed upon the roll of fame, 
 owed to some extent their renown to the fact that they 
 visited our village. 
 
 " In our present article, it is with pleasure that we record 
 the visit to Woodbine Cottage of a half-score of the dis 
 tinguished artists whose pictures at the National Academy 
 of Design gave a weight and character to it which it would 
 not otherwise have possessed. They came in a body, on 
 the four o clock train, last Saturday afternoon. It is to be 
 regretted that the president of the village, and all others 
 in authority, were not informed of the intended visit, else 
 they would doubtless have been received in a manner be 
 fitting their distinguished character, and Luffy might 
 have had at his hotel several bowls of punch prepared for 
 the occasion. As it was, they got off of the cars in the 
 most unpretentious manner, and immediately moved in 
 two columns to Woodbine Cottage. 
 
 "The genial occupants of the cottage were as much 
 taken by surprise as were the village authorities. They 
 had received no warning of the intended honor, and were 
 therefore unprepared to entertain them. The artists them 
 selves, however, with a premonition and generosity which 
 did honor alike to their heads and hearts, had provided for 
 this emergency in a most munificent manner. Twelve 
 hampers, containing edibles and drinkables of many kinds, 
 we had the pleasure of observing on Whitny s express- 
 wagon passing our office.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 59 
 
 " If one of those hampers we do not greatly care 
 which, but would have preferred the one containing the 
 Golden Wedding champagne, the meat-pie, the cold 
 duck and olives, and the peaches, pears, and melons had 
 been left at our residence just around the corner, it would 
 have been a most satisfactory and agreeable circumstance 
 to us, and we would have placed with much pleasure upon 
 our newspaper subscription-book, as dead-heads, the names 
 of all the artists so donating, who would thereby have re 
 ceived The Flag of Freedom for one year. As they, 
 however, omitted to perform this courteous act, we can 
 only say that we would be happy to furnish them with the 
 Flag at the lowest subscription price, viz., three dollars 
 per annum, a deduction of fifty cents from the regular 
 price, but which we invariably make to clergymen, artists, 
 and literary men. 
 
 " The banquet to which these estimable and talented 
 men sat down at Woodbine Cottage, on Saturday evening, 
 was of the most gorgeous and tempting character. An 
 immense game-pie, composed of ducks, woodcocks, quails, 
 and grouse, ornamented the centre of the table. A jugged 
 hare stood at one end, and a boned turkey at the other ; 
 while a boiled ham, a round of beef, broiled spring chick 
 ens, ducks stuffed with olives, boned sardines, and other 
 appetizing relishes, were scattered at convenient distances. 
 It was not our good fortune to be present at this festival ; 
 but when, from the elevated position we occupied, we 
 heard the popping of champagne corks, and the various 
 toasts and speeches uttered and responded to. and saw the 
 good things of the feast disappear before the appetites of 
 the artists, as leaves before a wild hurricane fly, our 
 mouth watered and our stomach craved that which it was 
 not our privilege to enjoy. 
 
 " Until we saw those talented and estimable gentlemen 
 dispose of what was before them, we had been possessed 
 of the belief that they lived upon less sublunary fare
 
 60 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 than we every-day folks ; sunrises and sunsets, moonlight 
 and starlight, flowers and sea-foam, were a few of the 
 dishes which we had heretofore given them credit for em 
 ploying in their regular diet ; but, after witnessing their 
 capabilities with the knife and fork at Woodbine Cottage, 
 we feel compelled to state that, as far as eating and drink 
 ing go, they will compare favorably with the performance, 
 in that line, of the hungriest men we ever met. 
 
 " We cannot close our account of this interesting festi 
 val without referring to the happy manner in which Mr. 
 G. s savage literary friend sung a patriotic song of his own 
 composing, which brought down the house, metaphorically 
 speaking, and created a deep and abiding sensation in the 
 breasts of the assembled guests. One of the artists, too, 
 performed an Indian war-dance, which he learned during a 
 short residence among a warlike tribe in the Rocky Moun 
 tains. The whoop which he gave semi-occasionally during 
 its performance, and in which he was joined by the com 
 pany, was of the most startling character. He also kindly 
 offered to scalp any one who desired to have this little act 
 performed. The bald-headed gentleman of foreign birth 
 was the only one of the party who had the courage to offer 
 to submit to the operation ; but the Rocky Mountain man 
 said it could n t be done on him, and begged some of the 
 others to come forward. They all declined, however, but 
 said that if they only wore wigs they would be happy to 
 accommodate him. 
 
 " We must not neglect to speak of the genial and sans- 
 souci manner in which Mr. Gray presided at the head of 
 the table, a manner which, in our humble opinion, could 
 only be equalled by that in which the presidents of the 
 St. Nicholas and the Friendly Sons societies may be 
 presumed to preside on the occasion of their annual din 
 ners. His parting toast of Let us love one another, was 
 given with a gusto and cheeriness which entitled the giver 
 to be credited with desiring, with his whole heart, the en 
 tire fulfilment of the wish.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. f,l 
 
 " We shall endeavor to give, in a future number of our 
 widely-circulated weekly, a further account of the proceed 
 ings of the Artist Club for such we presume it is 
 while the members remained at Woodbine Cottage." 
 
 Thus ends the account of the dinner, as reported in 
 " The Flas of Freedom."
 
 62 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 My Melon-bed. Temptation. Outside the Palings. Caught in the 
 Act. " Hi ! hi ! " My Generosity. Footprints Stolen Fruit. 
 " Black Matan." Old Pokey. Trouser Legs. Gumbo. A Dread 
 ful Miss. Providence. Kind Sir," she said. Funerals. Amen. 
 An Ugly Dog. Old Mother Hubbard. Little Boys Legs. Horrible. 
 A Dog-Fight. Jack vs. Gumbo. 
 
 HAVE been much " exercised " lately, in regard 
 to securing my crop of melons. My cantaloupes 
 do not appear to be equal to the temptation which, 
 doubtless, assails them, for that they can elope nearly every 
 night witnesseth ; while my nutmegs disappear faster than 
 ever their wooden namesakes of Connecticut did from a 
 pedler s wagon ; and my watermelons literally water the 
 ground with their sweet juices, for many yards, in the 
 direction of the village. I took a great deal of pains with 
 my melon-bed, working early and late that is, late in the 
 morning and early in the evening for a brief period every 
 day in my shirt-sleeves, taking the starch out of many 
 collars, and destroying the polish on my boots. I had to 
 put the melon-seeds down several times, too, before they 
 would come up. The first time they were planted too 
 deep, twelve inches is, I understand, rather deep for 
 these seeds, and, the next time, in such shallow ground 
 that the motherly hens, in searching for early worms, came 
 across the seeds in their scratching explorations around 
 the garden, and unceremoniously put them into their own 
 and their chicks crops. Then, when the vines did appear, 
 a lot of miserable little, brown-paper colored bugs walked 
 into the garden and incontinently devoured them, root and 
 branch. Owing to these drawbacks, it was comparatively
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 63 
 
 late in the season before my melons began to come for 
 ward ; but, after they once got started, they grew famously, 
 and were the talk of the entire neighborhood. I am in 
 clined to think that the reputation they acquired was not 
 good for them, and proved their ruin. The glory of those 
 melons, my wife told me, was being too widely noised about 
 the village for their safety, and I now see the truth of her 
 remark. 
 
 " Because you have a good thing in the melon line," said 
 the far-sighted woman, " it is not necessary, as you are no 
 gardener seeking employment, for you to bruit it abroad, 
 thus placing temptation before, and offering a premium, 
 as it were, for stealing, to little ragged boys, who would 
 otherwise have gone through the summer living innocent 
 lives. Mark my words, Mr. Gray ; for just as certain as I 
 stand here" she was examining with me, at the time, 
 the growing melons " you will know little about the taste 
 of these melons." As long, however, as the melons re 
 mained severely green, I gave little heed to her words ; but 
 when, as the fruit began to ripen, and I saw little ragged 
 boys stop at the garden palings, and, looking through them, 
 turn slowly away, whispering to each other, I asked myself 
 if, after all, my wife might not be correct in her predic 
 tions. I felt certain of it when, one day, I saw a lad thrust 
 a long pole, to which a fork was attached, through the 
 palings, and stab one of my largest watermelons. 
 
 When I, cautiously approaching from the rear that mis 
 guided boy, gently seized him, asking him politely what he 
 was doing, he, although somewhat surprised by my arrival, 
 nevertheless replied that he was n t doing nothing. Speak 
 ing grammatically, under the rule that two negatives de 
 stroy one another, the boy told the truth ; but he had no 
 intention of so doing, and therefore I gave him no credit 
 for not telling a falsehood. But when the lad added, with 
 a grin that stretched his mouth from ear to ear, that he d 
 heard tell of my melons, and kinder guessed he d like to
 
 64 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 try one, I could not resist telling him to take the melon he 
 had seized and be off with himself before I changed my 
 mind and set the dog on him. The celerity with which he 
 gathered up that melon, and, with a victorious shout of 
 " hi ! hi ! ! " made off down the road, near the corner of 
 which, lying in wait for him, lurked several of his compan 
 ions, was a sight to be enjoyed by any one who did not own, 
 as I do, a melon patch. 
 
 Whether my generosity was appreciated by those little 
 rascals, And they felt that my kindness should be treated 
 with due consideration, I cannot tell ; but, at all events, 
 several days elapsed without my discovering any little boys 
 looking over my garden palings. Small lads, however, can 
 not be forever resisting temptation, and, therefore, I was 
 not surprised one morning, when I went into the garden to 
 take my before-breakfast walk, to see the impressions of 
 small feet on the soft mould of the melon-bed, and to find 
 that several of the finest ones had disappeared. 
 
 Melons, under most circumstances, when fully ripe, are 
 agreeable eating ; and, as stolen fruit is said to be the 
 sweetest, I have little doubt that my melons tasted uncom 
 monly well, that moonlight night, to the villains who sur 
 reptitiously helped themselves to them. Still I have 
 bought a dog to assist me in keeping possession of my 
 melons ; for, although I have no objection to little boys 
 eating melons at night, I have myself a predilection for 
 them at breakfast and after dinner. 
 
 The dog I have purchased has a fine reputation for 
 catching fruit-stealers. Indeed, the old lady of whom I 
 bought him the same, in fact, whose acquaintance I 
 made in the cars, and to whose curiosity I was indebted 
 for the loss of my black-and-tan hen gave me to under 
 stand that, from early puppyhood, his chief diet had been 
 the legs of little boys. The number of trousers he had 
 torn in getting at those legs, she said, had kept the princi 
 pal tailor of her village in business all the year round, and
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 65 
 
 she verily believed he would have starved to death many a 
 time if it had n t been for that dog. 
 
 " What he will do, kind sir, when he learns," she said, 
 " that I ve sold my black matan out and out, I don t 
 know ; but I should n t wonder a bit if he d move right 
 off to your village." 
 
 " Oh, that would n t answer at all," I said ; " we ve a 
 good tailor there already, and I should prefer to throw 
 what business I could, through the dog, into his hands, 
 than to have a perfect stranger reap the benefit of it, and 
 I shall recommend all the little boys, whose trousers legs 
 the dog tears, to go to Cronin for repairs, in preference to 
 any new man." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," the old lady replied ; " but you 
 must n t forget that our tailor and my dog have worked 
 together a good many years, and naturally may be pre 
 sumed to be attached to each other, especially when you 
 take into consideration the fact that, in the winter season, 
 when little boys legs are not quite so available as they are 
 in summer time, old Mr. Pokey always keeps a lot of bones 
 on a plate ready against my black matan coming along 
 past his house." 
 
 " Certainly," I replied, " and I ve no doubt but that our 
 Mr. Cronin will do the same. But, allow me to ask, by 
 what name did you call the dog just now?" 
 
 " Oh ! " she answered, " the dog s name is Gumbo ; but 
 I generally speak of him as my black matan." 
 
 " Black what ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, black matan," she replied, " same as you called 
 your hen, you know, on account of his color." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I see now," I responded ; " but, really, I don t 
 think he belongs to that breed of dogs. It strikes me that 
 he is a mongrel, and might, with truthfulness, be termed a 
 yaller cur. " 
 
 The old lady deprecated any such appellation, and half 
 refused to sell him to me unless I would let him remain a 
 5
 
 66 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 "black matan." When at last, however, I had paid the 
 money for him, and was going away, she was more than 
 ever inclined to break the bargain ; for, as she very justly 
 remarked, " the poor boys will miss him dreadfully, and 
 I in much afraid that Mr. Pokey will never forgive me for 
 selling him. But Providence, kind sir," she continued, 
 after a pause, during which she wiped her eyes with the 
 corner of her black bombazine apron, which must have been 
 pretty rough on her eyelids, " does not always permit us to 
 have our own ways in this wicked world ; but sometimes, I 
 must confess, controls our actions in a most incomprehen 
 sible manner. I don t think, kind sir, that I ever should 
 have married, but for an overruling Providence, my poor 
 husband, now dead these twenty-five years come the 
 sixth of October next, and it was a very rainy day when 
 he died, and gloomy enough ; but fortunately we had a fine 
 day for the funeral, and, though cold, it was clear, and 
 there were a great many persons present. Did you ever 
 have a funeral, kind sir ? " she asked. 
 
 I said I never had, and I hoped it would be many years 
 before that sad event, so far as I was personally concerned, 
 took place. 
 
 " I mean, kind sir," she said, " a funeral in your own fam 
 ily. Of course, I know that you have not been funeraled 
 yet." 
 
 I assured the old lady that Providence had dealt very 
 tenderly with me and mine, and that the heavy folds of the 
 pall had never swayed in sunlight or starlight within my 
 dwelling, and I trusted that it would be a long time before 
 such sorrow were mine. 
 
 Thereupon the old lady said, very pathetically, " Amen ; " 
 and then I bade her farewell, and went home. 
 
 " What, in the world of wonder, Mr. Gray," asked my 
 wife, as I entered the house, have you brought home 
 such a looking dog as that for ? Why, it is uglier than 
 your savage literary friend s."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 67 
 
 "Well, my dear, what if it be?" I replied. "The 
 dog is a good dog for the purpose I desire, and I don t 
 think you ought to object to him because he is n t quite 
 an Apollo in appearance. He knows a trick or two, and 
 can balance himself on his tail in a surprising manner, 
 and stand on his head with his tail in the air equal to 
 the famous dog which old Mother Hubbard possessed. 
 Besides, he s great on rats, and cats, and little boys legs." 
 
 "Great on little boys legs!" exclaimed my wife, in 
 astonishment, putting up both hands; "why, what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Mean ! " I replied ; " why, that I don t mean to lose 
 any more melons. Do you think that I intend to be 
 robbed of my melons without getting something back 
 in return ? " 
 
 "And what do you expect to get back?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, pieces of trousers," I answered, " and, perhaps, 
 pieces of legs." 
 
 " Horrible ! " she cried ; " how can you speak so 
 cruelly ? " 
 
 " Cruelly, is it ? " I asked ; " wait a moment. There, 
 do you see that little rascal yonder?" pointing through 
 the open window to a crouching figure that was creeping, 
 in the twilight, along a line of currant-bushes, leading to 
 the melon-bed ; " look, now, Gumbo ! legs ! " 
 
 The dog went through the open window like a shot, 
 and the next moment there was a terrific fight going on 
 between my savage literary friend s dog Jack, which I 
 had mistaken for a robber of melons, sneaking along 
 toward them, and my own Gumbo. Before those dogs 
 could be separated they had smashed all the glasses in 
 one of my forcing-beds, knocked down the frames up 
 holding my tomatoes, destroyed my wife s choicest car 
 nations and dahlias, and caused me to break the handles 
 of two hoes and a pitchfork. The conflict lasted fullj 
 twenty minutes, and the injuries which both dogs suffered
 
 68 OUT OF TOWN- 
 
 can never be repaired. Jack had his tail bitten off quite 
 short, and the ears of Gumbo were chewed into ribbons. 
 If dogs could use crutches, these two belligerents would 
 each be halting around upon two pairs apiece ; but, as 
 it is, they are compelled to lie quietly curled up in sep 
 arate corners in the barn, eying each other vindictively, 
 until their many wounds are healed. 
 
 In the mean while the naughty boys of the village run 
 rampant, at night, through the melon-beds of my friend 
 and myself, and, in the daytime, fearfully excite the two 
 dogs by throwing stones at the hospital wherein they are 
 confined.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 69 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Goat rs. Cow Milk. My Old Lady. How to secure a Goat. Mr. 
 I okey again. Gumbo. Buts. Going a-Goating. Taking pos 
 session of the Goat. The Start Homeward. Down in the Dust. A 
 Round Turn. A Turnip-field. Here and There. A Happy Thought. 
 Not Quick enough. Losses. A Rope. Caught. Home at last. 
 
 HAVE bought a goat. Next to owning a cow, a 
 goat, especially if there be a youthful scion of 
 your house who delights in fresh milk, is a de 
 sirable investment. Cows, beside being much more ex 
 pensive, require greater care, and are more troublesome 
 to keep than goats. Goat s milk, too, is richer and more 
 nourishing than that of cows. At least the old lady the 
 same one of whom I procured the " black matan " dog 
 so assured me when she sold me the goat which now eats 
 off my turnip-tops. She further said that I would not re 
 quire a barn in which to keep it, as I would if I were to 
 get a cow. 
 
 " All you need do, kind sir," she said, " will be to put 
 a box in one corner of your garden, and throw a little 
 hay into it, and then you have your goatery ready for its 
 occupant. And as for feed, why, a smart goat will feed 
 itself, and this goat is one of that kind. Where she can t 
 find grazing there ain t none, kind sir, worth speaking of." 
 
 Even during the short time I have owned that goat I 
 have discovered that she can more than feed herself. 
 Such slight guardians to cabbage and carrot fields as 
 fences and stone walls, offer no impediment to the en 
 trance of my goat. Simply tying two of her legs to 
 gether is of little use in preventing her from making any 
 field, to which she may take a fancy, her foraging-ground.
 
 70 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 The only way to prevent her from poaching on my neigh 
 bors is by tying all four of her legs together, and then 
 tethering her to a stake driven into the ground. Even 
 then, unless the knots are securely tied, she will slip the 
 rope, and make off for the nearest garden fence. On 
 these occasions I find that the dog Gumbo, who has nearly 
 recovered from his wounds, is of great assistance in bring 
 ing back the runaway ; indeed, the old lady, when she 
 sold me the goat, more than hinted that she was obliged 
 to part with her for the reason that she no longer had 
 the " black matan " to keep watch over her. 
 
 I may as well here record the fact that, when the tailor, 
 old Mr. Pokey, who mainly depended upon Gumbo s 
 efforts in the trouser-tearing line for, so to speak, his 
 bread and butter, learned that he had been sold and 
 emigrated from the village, he gnashed his teeth fear 
 fully, and, sharpening his longest shears, vowed terrible 
 vengeance against the old lady for parting with him. He 
 so frightened her that she drove over to see me one day, 
 and tried to buy him back ; but when she saw the fright 
 ful condition in which he was, arising from his fight with 
 Jack, she declined to risk the purchase, and left him to 
 die, as she said, on my hands. It has since come to my 
 ears that old Pokey failed in business the week afterwards. 
 During this interview with my old lady I discovered the 
 old lady had a goat for sale, and, on my making an offer 
 for it, which was promptly accepted, I became the owner. 
 
 Now it is one thing, as I found, to buy a goat, and quite 
 another to get it home. When, therefore, one breezy af 
 ternoon I said to Mrs. Gray that I thought it would be a 
 good plan for me to take our eldest boy and walk over to 
 the Corners for the goat I bought, and drive her home, she 
 replied that she thought it would be, and added, moreover, 
 in a slightly sarcastic tone, " that she hoped I d have a 
 nice time of it, but " 
 
 " But me no buts, my dear," I interrupted ; " we will 
 leave that," I said, laughingly, " to the goat."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 71 
 
 " We will leave it to the goat," she answered, " as you 
 will probably find." 
 
 I paid no attention, however, to her remarks, and, call 
 ing my little boy to accompany me, walked off toward the 
 Corners. It is only about three miles distant, and the road 
 is a pleasant one, winding for the greater part of the way 
 through woods of hickory, chestnut, and butternuts. At 
 times the path leads along the banks of the river Bronx, 
 and the rippling of the water over its rocky bed falls in 
 pleasing murmurs upon the ear. " Autumn," I said to my 
 self, as I walked along, " is the best season of the year to 
 dwell in the country, for then it is in its glory. The air is 
 pure and invigorating, and the temperature cool and de 
 lightful. Nature allures her lovers to follow winding 
 streams, to clamber rocky mountains, to wander through 
 shadowy forests, where the leaves strew the ground and 
 rustle beneath their steps, and from her outspreading arms 
 drops down upon them the harvests of the year. Already 
 the harvest is being gathered. The reapers are busy in 
 the fields. I hear the whetting of the scythes and the 
 creaking of the loaded wains as they bear the golden 
 sheaves to the granaries. The apples red, russet, and 
 yellow are ripening in the orchards. The corn is turn 
 ing into gold, and the pumpkins, seen through the green 
 stalks of the maize, which still wave triumphantly through 
 many fields, lie basking in the sunshine. The grapes are 
 growing purple on their vines, and all the products of the 
 earth, having produced each after its kind, are waiting to 
 be garnered. At this season it is a luxury to be out-of- 
 doors ; and whether it be early in the morning while the 
 dew still jewels the grass, at noontide when the sun shines 
 warmly, or at twilight when the stars begin to glimmer, 
 the open fields, the mazy orchards, and the silent woods 
 possess charms for the thoughtful and observant mind. 
 Nature is wonderfully suggestive at this season, and many 
 are the lessons she teaches to humanity." I must have
 
 72 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 spoken a part of this aloud, for my little boy asked, 
 " Where are the apples and the grapes ? " He did not see 
 them. However, he took much pleasure in picking up the 
 early fallen nuts scattered under the trees, and in gather 
 ing bunches of autumnal flowers which bordered the 
 roadside. When we reached the old lady s, he exchanged 
 these yellow, purple, and scarlet flowers for a huge slice of 
 pound-cake and a glass of new milk. After fortifying my 
 self with something more substantial, I prepared to return 
 home. The goat, which is a large white one, with curving 
 horns and a brisk little bit of a tail, was brought out, and 
 a rope about six feet long being tied to her horns, I, taking 
 the other end of it, set off for Woodbine Cottage. The 
 old lady cast an old shoe after us for good luck ; but, as it 
 struck the goat, it was the cause of frightening her, and 
 made her start on a run. As this action was totally unex 
 pected to me, the rope was drawn out of my hands, and to 
 regain it required unusual activity on my part, and a nice 
 little race ensued, which attracted the attention of the 
 lookers-on, and resulted, after a five minutes run, in vic 
 tory to my side. The goat, on finding herself hauled up, 
 with an alacrity which was surprising, turned and made 
 a rush at me, butting me with her head and taking me off 
 my feet in a twinkling, and going herself over my prostrate 
 body in a way which spoke well for her agility. Before the 
 rope tightened in my hands I was on my feet, and brought 
 her up again with a round turn. This time, however, when 
 the goat made a dash at me I was prepared, and by step 
 ping quickly aside I let her go by without encountering 
 any harm. This seemed somewhat to astonish her lady 
 ship, and apparently had a good effect ; for on the instant 
 she became perfectly docile, and moved along for five min 
 utes in a quiet and orderly manner. 
 
 While I was congratulating myself, however, upon her 
 good behavior, and counting in my mind the number of 
 quarts of milk our babe would have per day, the goat
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 73 
 
 made a dash for a field of turnips we were passing, and 
 with a sudden spring, which jerked the rope out of my 
 hand, went over the fence like a flash. 
 
 I walked quietly to the fence and looked over it. The 
 goat was standing a few feet distant, gently cropping the 
 tender shoots of the turnips as if she enjoyed them. I 
 remained for several minutes calmly watching her, and 
 once in a while she would raise her head, shake it defiantly 
 at me, whisk her stump of a tail derisively, and utter a 
 little bleat, which seemed plainly to say, " Catch me if you 
 can." 
 
 1 seated my little boy on the top rail of the fence, and 
 then got over into the field, and, as if I were myself seek 
 ing for tender turnip-tops, cautiously approached my lady, 
 who would let me get within a few paces of her, when with 
 a spring she would carry herself far out of my reach. 
 This little manoeuvre was performed several times, until I 
 began to lose the small stock of patience of which I was 
 possessed, and to ask myself how it was going to end. I 
 tried to drive her into a corner of the fence, but she was 
 too knowing for that, and on such occasions would make a 
 long run, and only stand still when she reached the oppo 
 site side of the field. 
 
 At last a happy thought occurred to me. I pulled a tur 
 nip and held its white root temptingly before her. She 
 looked at it a moment, sniffed at it, and began to curvet 
 and prance upon her hind legs in a most graceful and 
 pretty manner, and at the same time, too, approaching 
 nearer and nearer, but never for a moment getting close 
 enough for me to catch her. She evidently desired the 
 turnip, but was rather suspicious of me. Finally, I de 
 cided to let my little boy try his powers of persuasion ; 
 and calling him to me, put a turnip into his hands and di 
 rected him to try to get the goat to take it, while I would 
 seize upon the rope. The ruse would have been successful 
 but for one circumstance, I was not quite quick enough.
 
 74 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 The moment the goat saw the little boy holding the turnip 
 out to her, she rushed for it, knocked the lad down, seized 
 it, and was off before I could grasp the rope which trailed 
 behind her. 
 
 I have lost a good many things in this life by not being 
 quick enough. I have lost sweethearts, money, the cars, 
 the boats, and numerous dinners ; but I don t remember 
 that the losing of any one of them ever made me so angry 
 as did the loss of that rope. I know there have been men 
 who would gladly have missed a rope ; but for these per 
 sons I never had any sympathy. Such men have an antip 
 athy to rope-walks, and would go a mile out of their way 
 rather than walk through one. They cannot hear, either, 
 the word noose without experiencing a peculiar tickling 
 about the throat. But, thank Heaven, I am no such indi 
 vidual. Therefore it was, when I picked up my little boy, 
 who was more frightened than hurt, from the midst of the 
 growing turnips, that I spoke of the goat to myself in no 
 Christian terms, and promised her a good beating when I 
 should get hold of the rope again. 
 
 One can t, though, if he applies himself diligently to se 
 curing it, be forever- losing the end of a rope. Nor is man 
 to be foiled by a goat. lie must win in the long run ; and 
 though it was a long run in this instance, and wilted my 
 collar, and will probably result in bringing something else 
 besides chickens home to roost in the future, yet on the 
 third trial with the tempting turnip, my little boy, pro 
 tected by a breastwork of rail-fence from the goat s attack, 
 and the latter being out-generalled and coaxed into a cor 
 ner, I obtained possession of the coveted rope, and conse 
 quently of the vivacious goat. 
 
 To get that goat out of the turnip-field and into the road 
 again, was the work of but a few minutes ; and for the 
 next mile she travelled along at something more than a 
 two-forty gait. Perhaps the bunch of flexible branches 
 birch and elm which I carried in one hand, and applied
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 75 
 
 without remorse to her flank and rear, had something to 
 do with the celerity of her movement. 
 
 At the end of that mile we had a little set-to. The goat 
 put her forefeet firmly down in the green sod, and refused 
 to advance another inch. Beating her did no good, but 
 seemed rather to confirm her in a desire which she appar 
 ently had of staying where she was all night. Fortunately, 
 though, my little boy, who had been left far in the rear by 
 our swiftness of movement, came up, still bearing a cov 
 eted turnip in his hand, and with it managed to coax the 
 goat into a forward movement. That movement never 
 stopped until we reached Woodbine Cottage, and I had 
 housed my goat in the goatery, which the old lady had sug 
 gested as an appropriate abiding-place. 
 
 "What trouble that goat has given me since she came into 
 my possession I have hinted at in the beginning of this 
 sketch ; but the half is not yet told. The babe, though, is 
 flourishing like a green bay-tree under his new diet, and 
 growing stout and hearty.
 
 76 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A lost Goat. Red Cabbages; their Cultivation. A Challenge; its Ac 
 ceptance. Milking-time. My savage Literary Friend. A horrible 
 Suggestion; its Non-fullilment. The Pound ; its Uses; its neglected 
 State. In and Out. Remorse. Self-inflicted Punishment. Two 
 Days and a Night. Plans for liberating the Goat. A Fool s Propo 
 sition ; its remarkable Success. The Goat at Home again. 
 
 goat has been in the pound. It happened in 
 this way : One night she got into my savage liter 
 ary friend s plantation, and ate up all his red cab 
 bages. If there were one tiling more than another which 
 
 o o 
 
 my friend experienced satisfaction in seeing grow, it was 
 his red cabbages. When he set out these plants, a couple 
 of months ago, he expatiated at length to me on the supe 
 riority, over all others, of red cabbages for the purpose of 
 pickling. During the dry weather he watered the plants 
 morning and night. He poked a good deal about their 
 roots, loosening the earth, and supplying them to a certain 
 extent with guano. When they began to " head up " he 
 was much delighted, and used to take his friends who 
 called on him out into the garden to see them. I must 
 say they grew famously, and promised to become the prize 
 red cabbages of the county. It happened one day that 
 he incautiously spoke to me before the goat who was 
 being milked at the time of the wonderful progress 
 those cabbages were making in their growth. I noticed 
 that the goat pricked up her ears at the word red cabbage, 
 as if she understood what was being said, and I observed 
 to my friend he had better look out for his cabbage patch, 
 as my goat would probably pay it a visit. He laughed de 
 risively, and said that I gave too much credit to my goat
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 77 
 
 for understanding ; besides, his fences were goat-proof, and 
 he defied any goat to scale them. 
 
 Thereupon the goat shook her horns defiantly, wagged 
 her brief tail, and kicked over the milk-pail. This was at 
 dewy eve ; the next morning my friend s red cabbages 
 were gone, and the footprints in the garden mould showed 
 that my goat was the offender. There was much other 
 food for my goat in that garden besides those cabbages : 
 there were white cabbages, and corn, and beets, and car 
 rots, and all the appetizing viands in which goats delight ; 
 but she had been challenged, as it were, to attack those 
 cabbages, and she did it. A dozen heads of red cabbages 
 seem to me more than a meal for one goat ; but she was 
 equal to the emergency, and, though the eating of them 
 must have occupied her the whole night, she succeeded in 
 stowing them all away before sunrise. 
 
 When milking-time came that morning, the goat was 
 not to be found. Search was made for her throughout the 
 length and breadth of the neighborhood, without success. 
 My youngest began to experience the pangs of hunger, and 
 cried aloud in the bitterness of his grief. But it was of no 
 avail ; the goat was not forthcoming, and the boy was in 
 danger of starvation. Before this result, however, came 
 to pass, it fortunately occurred to Mrs. G. that cow s milk 
 could be given to him with a view of satisfying his desires 
 until the goat came home. As he took kindly to it, I don t 
 think he knew the difference. 
 
 Just after breakfast, my savage literary friend made his 
 appearance, with a countenance expressive more of sorrow 
 than of anger, and told us of the loss he had suffered. 
 He would like, he said, if I had no objection, to take a 
 view of that goat, and see how she looked. He did n t 
 wish her any especial harm, but still it would be a satisfac 
 tion to him if those twelve red cabbages should disagree 
 with her. Pie would like, too, to see how she managed to 
 carry them about. When I told him that she could not
 
 78 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 be found, he seemed to be quite pleased, and chuckled 
 with much satisfaction. He would not be surprised, he 
 said, if she had burst herself. Such fatalities did some 
 times happen, and he had read of an ox that was killed 
 that way through getting into a clover-field. 
 
 This idea was so horrible that it quite shocked us, and 
 the baby, as if he understood it, cried most lustily. Deem 
 ing that this might be the case, I went up to my friend s 
 plantation to see if the remains of my goat could be found. 
 On my way there I pictured to myself the fearful scene 
 which would await my sight. I seemed to see a pair 
 of horns lying loosely, with a wreath of red cabbage 
 around them ; the short and familiar tail, with more red 
 cabbage about it ; four little hoofs embalmed in more red 
 cabbage ; besides much hair, mixed with much red cab 
 bage, scattered all about the grounds. But no such sight 
 appalled me. I only saw the standing stalks of the cab 
 bages, a few scattered leaves, and the marks of cloven feet 
 in the earth. All that day and the following the search 
 for the goat was prosecuted unavailingly, and it was not 
 until nearly night of the second day that my eldest boy 
 brought the news that our goat was in the pound. 
 
 The pound is essentially a village institution, and is to 
 vagrant animals what the jail is to vagrant men. As I 
 had endeavored, when I first came to Woodbine Cottage, 
 to get a cow, which had greatly annoyed me, placed in the 
 pound, without accomplishing it, and had learned, much to 
 my disapprobation, that, although the village could boast 
 of a pound, there yet was no pound-master, and conse 
 quently the pound was never used, I was on this occasion 
 quite surprised, therefore, to learn that my goat was a 
 prisoner. Nor was my surprise in any degree lessened 
 when, on going to the pound, I discovered the secure 
 character of the place. A high board-fence surrounded 
 the enclosure, and an equally high gate, padlocked and 
 nailed up, should, but did not, give entrance to it. It was
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 79 
 
 evident to me that that gate had not been opened for years. 
 The oldest inhabitant could scarcely recall the time, and 
 the question as to how the goat got into the pound must 
 ever remain unsolved. The probability is, however, that 
 immediately after partaking of my friend s red cabbages, 
 she was attacked with qualms of conscience ; and, know 
 ing that she deserved to be put into the pound for her 
 wickedness, voluntarily went thither, and, scaling the fence, 
 became a penitent and remorse-eaten goat. In the early 
 dawn, with the morning-star only as a witness, must she 
 have accomplished this feat, which, in the annals of the 
 village, has never been rivalled. 
 
 For two days and a night that poor goat had patiently 
 suffered, and, we trust, atoned for her naughtiness. Goat 
 nature, no more than human nature, however, can recon 
 cile itself to too prolonged a punishment, especially where 
 it is self-inflicted ; and when, therefore, the close of the 
 second day drew nigh, and food within the enclosure grew 
 scarce, it is no more than might have been expected that 
 the goat should desire a change of scene. Although she 
 was able to get in, it is very evident that she was not able 
 to get out, or else she would have accomplished it. She 
 could only call for assistance ; and, as her bleat is a pecu 
 liar one, it was early recognized by a passer-by, who in 
 formed my little boy of the lost goat s whereabouts. 
 
 Quite a crowd was gathered about the pound when I 
 arrived there, and the question as to how the goat got in 
 had not only been duly discussed, but the next important 
 question as to how she could be got out was under consid 
 eration. The key of the padlock was lost, ;mcl to open the 
 gate was impossible. Through the various knot holes and 
 crevices in the fence the goat could be seen marching dis 
 consolately around the pound, seeking vainly for a point of 
 egress. She had worn a dusty little pathway for herself, 
 close beside the fence, and, as she kept following it, would
 
 80 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 stop ever and anon, like the novelist s solitary horseman, to 
 look about her. 
 
 Several methods were discussed for getting her out. 
 One being to throw a rope over the fence, and allow her to 
 twist her horns into it, and then she could be drawn out. 
 Before any mode was decided upon, however, the fool of 
 the village came along, and suggested the plan of knock 
 ing a board off of the fence, and thus letting the goat out. 
 This was immediately adopted by the assemblage, and 
 with such unanimity of procedure that no less than twenty 
 boards were knocked off in a brief time, and an opening 
 sufficiently large to have driven an elephant through was 
 effected, though the goat, with that swiftness and strength 
 which is inherent to her, made a rush when the first board 
 flew, and knocking down and going over the luckless wight 
 who had so kindly opened the way for her, made a straight 
 line for Woodbine Cottage, which she reached in safety, 
 much to the delight of the little ones assembled there to 
 welcome her.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 81 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Reminiscent. "A Vanished Love." Wedding-bells. " To my Wife." 
 Blackberrying. An Explorer. Mountain Streams and Rocky Pools. 
 School-days. 
 
 is something not much, perhaps, but still 
 something to sit alone for an hour or more in 
 the early morning within the shade of an old 
 apple-tree, such as grows in the orchard adjoining Wood 
 bine Cottage, and hear the breeze murmuring through 
 the leaves above your head, and watch the idle play of the 
 shadows on the turf at your feet. A feeling of unutterable 
 peace is engendered in your breast, and a dreamy indo 
 lence takes possession of your mind. You dream dreams 
 and see visions. You recall the past with soft regret and 
 look with hopeful eyes into the future. If you have passed 
 the meridian of life, the past with its changes will be suffi 
 cient to occupy your thoughts without the necessity of 
 seeking to peer into the future. Your dead and buried 
 loves of long ago will, very properly, at such moments, ask 
 for a place in your memory. You will be apt to recall the 
 time when to some vanished Madge or Kate you made love 
 on the mountain-tops, or at the sea-shore, or down in the 
 valley, and wrote such verses as these : 
 
 A VANISHED LOVE. 
 
 HE loved her, and his eyes revealed 
 The passion that his tongue concealed : 
 He lived a sweet and charmed life, 
 And dreamed she was his darling wife. 
 
 With him t was spring the whole year through ; 
 For him alone the violets grew, 
 6
 
 82 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 And blossomed in the sylvan shade, 
 That he might crown his rustic maid. 
 
 Alas ! his dreaming came to naught ; 
 His love with grief and tears was fraught ; 
 And she the blessed one! is dead, 
 And violets bloom above her head. 
 
 If you are blessed with a wife, though, the present is 
 probably the all-in-all to you. You feel that your lines 
 have indeed fallen in pleasant places, and you are con 
 tented with the position in which it hath pleased Heaven 
 to place you. If your memory glides back into the past at 
 all, it is only to recall the days of your courtship, when 
 time moved on jewelled wings, and brought at last the 
 hour when the merry music of your wedding-bells filled 
 your ears. Since then, with her beside you, the years have 
 rolled calmly and silently along, so that you scarcely noted 
 their passage, or perceived the marks which age was leav 
 ing on your brow and scattering in threads of silver amidst 
 her hair. Most grateful should you be if this be the case, 
 and the present with its joys and blessings prove wealthier 
 than the vanished past. 
 
 Feeling thus, it will not be strange if, as I did, you indite 
 some lines to your wife, on her approaching birthday, simi 
 lar to these : 
 
 My darling wife, once more I bring 
 
 A birthday tribute unto thee ; 
 Once more, with words of praise, I sing 
 
 Of all that thou hast been to me, 
 Since first, whilst standing at thy side, 
 
 That day of all the year most blest, 
 I held thy hand in mine, my bride, 
 
 And clasped thee closely to my breast. 
 
 Since that sweet time we two have walked 
 
 Together down the sloping years, 
 And gayly laughed, and gayly talked, 
 
 Despite life s growing cares and fears ;
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 83 
 
 When petty troubles filled my heart, 
 And shadows hovered round my way, 
 
 Thy smile could make them all depart, 
 And change December into May. 
 
 I know full well that thorns have sprung 
 
 Within the path I ve led thee through ; 
 That thy fond bosom has been wrung 
 
 By acts I now would fain undo ; 
 But underneath the foolish deed, 
 
 And careless words oft breathed by me, 
 Thy gentle spirit still couldst read 
 
 The story of my love for thee. 
 
 Though them hast passed life s matin hours, 
 
 And reached the summer s golden time, 
 Know that the season s later flowers 
 
 Arc rich as those of April s prime; 
 That thou to me art still as fair 
 
 As on the day I called thee wife ; 
 And that thy presence, like a prayer, 
 
 Forever sanctifies my life. 
 
 Since I came to Woodbine Cottage I have resumed 
 many of my boyhood s amusements ; and, every few days, 
 recently, I have gone with my little ones to gather black 
 berries on the neighboring hill-sides. They grow about 
 here in great abundance, and are large and of a fine flavor. 
 I feel as if I were living my childhood over again. The 
 same thickly clustered bushes, into which I used in by-gone 
 days, on the banks of the Hudson, to scramble, scratching 
 my hands and tearing my clothes in my efforts to get at 
 the luscious berries, which strove to hide themselves under 
 the protecting leaves, seem to grow here, and to hold as 
 many berries, and be guarded by as many thorns. But 
 what are a few scratches and rents, to say nothing of stained 
 fingers, in comparison with the pleasure one derives from 
 contemplating his heaped basket of ripe fruit! The ob 
 taining of it was an enjoyment superior even to that which 
 will be found in partaking of it. Then, too, consider the 
 fun which the little ones have had ! What marvellous
 
 84 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 sport it was for them to clamber up the steep rocks, and 
 climb over the high rail-fences ! How venturous, and at 
 the same time delightful, it was for them to wander out of 
 your sight for a while, and nearly out of the hearing of 
 your voice, while they explored, in a spirit worthy of a 
 Christopher Columbus, the course of the mountain stream 
 which came tumbling over rocks from no one knows where, 
 and going, foaming and singing, no one kiiows whither, 
 forming deep pools where wonderful fish trout, per 
 chance might be dwelling, and making miniature Niag 
 aras, beautiful to look at and perilous to cross, as it dashed 
 over rocky precipices ! Ah ! we grown folks are apt to 
 forget that we were once young, and found pleasure in 
 blackberrying and wandering in the woods ; but after a 
 little while spent in the country, if we are surrounded by 
 children, the remembrance returns to us, and inclination 
 often leads us to renew with them the delights of our 
 school-days.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 85 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Three Good Things, A Wood-fire, a Barrel of Ale, and a Package of 
 New Books. A Reminiscence of Hillside. The Ills of the Flesh. 
 Cosmetics. The Blazing Fire. A Back-log. My Cherry-tree. 
 A Loud of Wood at Half- price. The Package of Books. A Mug of 
 Ale. Our Club. In the Library. The President. The Members. 
 Magazines. Books. 
 
 II REE good things have come recently to Wood 
 bine Cottage, a wood fire, a barrel of October ale, 
 and a package of new books. Heaven sent the 
 first, the brewers the second, and my publishers the third. 
 When I say that Heaven sent the wood-fire, I mean that 
 Heaven caused the tree to grow from which it was made, 
 and inserted into the early autumn the cool night which 
 induced me to build it. How my friends, the great Albany 
 brewers, however, knew that I was going to have a wood- 
 fire blazing on my hearth, and, therefore, the very day I 
 lighted it, sent me a barrel of Aster ale, of which to quaff 
 foaming mugs sitting before it ; or how my publishers, 
 making up into a package the books which had for sev 
 eral weeks past been arriving from various publishers who 
 were kind enough to send them to me, had foreseen the 
 pleasure I would take in examining them, with my wife 
 and little ones seated around me, before that blazing fire, I 
 
 O 
 
 cannot tell ; but so it was, and if a man ever enjoyed the 
 first fire of autumn, it would not have been necessary to 
 have gone out of my cottage that night to have found him. 
 These late October nights, full-mooned and frosty, are de 
 lightful to know, especially if you make their acquaintance 
 from your library window. I do not so much enjoy being 
 out among them, and I confess that I more fully delight in
 
 86 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 the daytime, when I can walk in the sunshine, and, shel 
 tered from the wind, creep along through the autumnal 
 woods, which have put on their robes of purple and gold, 
 and orange and scarlet. The nuts are ripe, the chestnuts 
 have opened their prickly burrs, and the walnuts unclosed 
 their hard shucks. The apples are being gathered into the 
 cellars ; the rosy Spitzenberg, the purple Seek-no-farther, 
 the yellow Pippin, the Greening, and all the newer varie 
 ties, are forsaking the orchards for the homes of man. We 
 are getting along towards Thanksgiving Day, and already 
 the, savor of pumpkin and mince pies is wafted to us. Oys 
 ters, too, are in their prime. I drank my first hot whiskey 
 punch of the season, too, to-day, and now have just tapped 
 a barrel of October ale, that ale of which a modern 
 rhymer thus sings : 
 
 " October s brewago, pure and creamy, 
 
 Fragrant of hops and malt new made, 
 To childhood s hours, so sweet and dreamy, 
 
 Fraught more with sunshine than with shade, 
 Carried us back to when we rambled 
 
 With pretty Madge o er hill and dale, 
 While trusty Watch before us gambolled, 
 
 Long ere we knew the taste of ale. 
 
 " The scent of blossoming hops was wafted 
 
 From fields where vines innumerous grew, 
 And midst its perfume there was grafted 
 
 A savor which the barley knew. 
 Those climbing vines, those fields of barley, 
 
 Heard then full many a pleasant tale, 
 While for her kisses we did parley, 
 
 Recalled to mind now o er our ale. 
 
 " Those halcyon days long since have vanished, 
 For Madge, dear Madge, is now but dust ; 
 
 Her form on earth for aye is banished, 
 Her spirit mingles with the just. 
 
 But while remembrance bids us weep her, 
 Our love through life will never fail,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 87 
 
 For in our heart of hearts we 11 keep her, 
 And drink her memory with our ale." 
 
 I had not known the delights of a wood-fire before since 
 
 O 
 
 I left Hillside, nearly ten years ago ; and when I got the fire 
 fully under way, and saw the bright flames rushing up the 
 chimney, the shadows dancing on the ceiling, the light 
 gleaming on the polished andirons, the children nestling 
 on the thick rug at my feet, roasting chestnuts and watch 
 ing the smoke-wreaths, I half thought that those early days 
 of married life had come back, and I was in the old house 
 again where I had passed so many joyous honeymoons. 
 The sight, though, of several more chubby little faces and 
 pairs of naked feet than I had known in the olden time 
 showed me that years had passed since then ; and though 
 I will not say that Time has dared to lay a finger on my 
 wife, yet I will confess that he has not passed me by un 
 recognized. There are deeper wrinkles on my brow, more 
 gray hairs in my whiskers, and the bald spot on the crown 
 of my head, which could then have been covered with a 
 dime, could not now be hidden with a silver dollar. One 
 cannot expect, though, to be a boy forever ; and though he 
 may, to a certain extent, retain his youthful feelings and 
 lightness of step, sly wrinkles will creep around his eyes, 
 and sober moments come to confront him. The very sight 
 of his children, as they play around, perpetually reminds 
 him that his days of childhood have departed, and that 
 henceforth his steps will glide into shadowy paths, and the 
 ills which flesh is heir to will crowd upon him, and sight 
 and hearing will grow feebler, the strong voice yield to 
 weakness, and the vigorous walk become tottering and un 
 certain. " In short, my dear," I continued, for I had 
 been uttering something like the above to Mrs. Gray, 
 " the silver cord will be loosed and the golden bowl be 
 broken." I spoke in such a melancholy tone that it quite 
 moved my wife, who said, in a cheerful voice, Don t, my 
 dear, let it grieve you that you are not so young as you
 
 88 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 once were. Look at me ; see how well I bear up under 
 my years and the increased cares which these little ones 
 entail upon me." 
 
 " It is all very well," I said, somewhat maliciously, I con 
 fess, "for you ladies, who employ all kinds of cosmetics, 
 and rouges, and powders, and hair-dyes, to keep up your 
 youthful appearance ; but we men, who do not care to re 
 sort to such artificial aids, must grow old in spite of our 
 selves, though you remain, apparently, as blooming and fair 
 as ever." 
 
 Now, if there be one thing more than another which 
 Mrs. G. prides herself upon, it is in the non-employment 
 of these toilet articles ; and as she knew that I was aware 
 she never used them, she contented herself by answering 
 me simply with a rebukeful look. 
 
 The fire blazed on the hearth magnificently; the smoke 
 rolled in clouds up the chimney ; the wood sputtered and 
 snapped as if it were alive, which, indeed, a portion of it 
 was, and, from the great back log the sap oozed out in 
 as lively a manner as did the foam from around the faucet 
 entering my barrel of ale. I was quite struck with the ap 
 pearance of that back-log, and it suddenly occurred to me 
 to ask my wife where it came from. 
 
 " Ah," she replied, " I have been waiting to have you 
 ask me about it, for there is a history connected with it." 
 
 " A history ! " I echoed. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " you remember the story of the 
 boy George Washington and the cherry-tree?" 
 
 " Of course I do," I answered. " It was rather impressed 
 upon me, when a child, because I was once naughty enough 
 to tell an untruth. But what has that got to do, I should 
 like to know, with our back-log ? " 
 
 " Well, there is a similarity between the two," she re 
 plied. 
 
 "You don t mean to say," I exclaimed, "that our little 
 boy has been cutting down our cherry-tree ? "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 89 
 
 " I do," she replied, " and that back-log is the result. It 
 took him, though, all day to chop it down, and he had to 
 call to his assistance one or two elder boys ; but he perse 
 vered, and though he blistered his hands fearfully, and 
 tore his jacket in an unmendable manner, he finally got 
 the tree down." 
 
 Now, if there was one tree in that garden which I 
 prized above another, it was that cherry-tree. Not that I 
 had obtained from it much fruit, for what, between the 
 children and the birds, very few of its cherries graced my 
 table, but because it was a large and handsomely formed 
 tree, and was an ornament to my grounds. I was quite 
 provoked, therefore, when I learned that my small boy had 
 cut it down, and was disposed to punish him for so doing. 
 But when his mother told me that he had come to her in 
 the morning, and asked if she would like a load of wood, 
 at about half the cost which the woodmen charged, and 
 
 O 
 
 promised to obtain it for her before night ; and she had 
 made a bargain with him to that effect, and he had inno 
 cently gone to work and laid low the pride of my fruit- 
 trees, and was inclined to glory in his success, I was dis 
 posed to forgive him the injury he had unwittingly in 
 flicted. 
 
 When, taking him on my knee, I told him of the error 
 he had committed, and gave him much good and fatherly 
 advice in regard to future cherry-trees, his under-lip quiv 
 ered, and his eyes were dimmed with tears, as he promised 
 me " never any more " to cut down a cherry-tree. 
 
 This little affair being happily settled, we took kindly to 
 the wood-fire, and, as it blazed up more brightly than ever, 
 and threw its heat out further into the room, we grew 
 warmer and more comfortable ; and, my little boy lugging 
 out the package of books from behind the door, we placed 
 it upon the table, and proceeded to investigate its contents. 
 Before doing so, however, I proposed to my wife that now, 
 since cool weather had set in, arid the evenings were get-
 
 90 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 ting long, that we institute a sort of club, of a semi-literary, 
 semi-gossiping character, to which the children, and who 
 ever of our friends might chance to drop in upon us, should 
 be admitted, and take part in the proceedings. 
 
 " Good gracious, Mr. Gray ! " exclaimed my wife ; " what 
 an idea ! It s preposterous ! I never heard of such a 
 thing in my life. The thought of you and I forming a 
 semi what-do-you-call-it-kind of a club, is really too ridic 
 ulous." 
 
 " Why is it ridiculous ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh ! because it is," Mrs. G. answered. 
 
 "Well, if you can advance no better reason than that, 
 Mrs. Gray," I replied, slightly excited, " you will never con 
 vince me of its ridiculousness. If you don t choose to join 
 me, my dear, you need not ; but in that case I shall go to 
 town and apply to the Century to be admitted as a 
 member, and shall thenceforth pass my evenings at the 
 club-house." 
 
 " But suppose the Century don t think you worthy of 
 membership, and reject you, what will you do then ? " 
 
 " In that event, Mrs. Gray, I shall join a Free and 
 Easy that holds its meetings at LufFy s tavern here in the 
 village." 
 
 " Rather than have you do that, my love, I will unite 
 with you in forming a club at home, of which you shall be 
 president and I secretary." 
 
 The little ones agreeing to this, I proceeded to inaugu 
 rate, by electing myself president of the same, the club, to 
 which I gave the name of 
 
 IN THE LIBRARY. 
 
 " This club," I said, speaking officially, and seating my 
 self in the large mahogany arm-chair, which had come 
 over long before the May-Flower reached these shores, 
 " is, I trust, destined to become a great institution in Wood 
 bine Cottage. Matters pertaining to pleasure and instruc-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 91 
 
 tion will have consideration at its meetings. Many impor 
 tant subjects will be discussed ; books and pictures will 
 be treated of, and, perhaps, occasionally a story will be 
 told." 
 
 Here the children clapped their hands approvingly, and 
 the eldest boy exclaimed, " Hear ! hear ! " I also took the 
 opportunity, which the occasion presented, to swallow a 
 mug of ale, and, after wiping the foam from my beard, pro 
 ceeded to open the package before me. 
 
 The magazine, " Our Young Folks," which I drew forth 
 first, caused Miss Em. to clap her hands with glee, and to 
 exclaim, u Now I shall be able to learn whether my work 
 ings out of the charades and enigmas are correct." The 
 next was a copy of the "Atlantic," which my wife claimed 
 as her own. Then came " Harper s," which my eldest, who 
 is partial to the pictures and the editor s drawer, took pos 
 session of. The next treasure was a package of bound 
 books. 
 
 " My dear," T said as I put these volumes carefully aside, 
 " I think I will take charge of these, and during the com 
 ing winter it shall be my pleasure to read them aloud to 
 you. Of one of these volumes, the Edinburgh Review 
 high authority, my dear says : It exhibits a brilliancy 
 of poetic diction and a power of melody of a very high 
 order. " 
 
 " Why, when, my dear," asked Mrs. Gray, " did you read 
 this in the Review ? And what a memory you must have ! 
 Why, I m certain if I had read it only yesterday I should 
 not have remembered it even till now ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, you women," I replied, placing my glasses on 
 my nose, and looking wisely at her from above them, " can t 
 be expected to have such memories as we men possess. 
 Why, bless you, my love ! " I continued, looking boldly at 
 her now through the glasses, " I remember everything I 
 read. I never forget a sentence." 
 
 " I wish, my dear," my wife made answer, as she heaved
 
 92 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 a little sigh, " that you would not forget to perform, as you 
 do, many little requests which I make of you in regard to 
 household matters. If you have a good memory for some 
 things, why not for everything ? If you can remember 
 what is said about a book which you have never seen, why 
 cannot you remember to stop at the shoemaker s, as I so 
 often request you to do when in the city, and get the chil 
 dren some shoes ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa, do ! " exclaimed Em. 
 
 And Yes, papa, do ! " echoed her three successors. 
 
 " Well, my children," I said, " your poor papa will en 
 deavor to remember it ; but you must be aware that he 
 cannot remember everything, though your dear mamma 
 thinks he can ; and that, moreover, it is very important 
 that he should remember everything the Edinburgh Re 
 view says about books." 
 
 " Poor papa, indeed," said mamma. 
 
 And " Poor papa," echoed each of the children. 
 
 " My dear," I said, reprovingly, " I shall be obliged to 
 close this meeting of the club unless better order can be kept. 
 The children cannot be allowed " and here I looked very 
 sternly at them, which made Em. tremble " to create 
 such a disturbance with impunity. Yes, my dear, the 
 meeting stands adjourned."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 My Literary Young Lady; her Manuscript; her New Play. Night- 
 Work. Lady Macbeth. A Critic on a Lounge. An Interruption. 
 Outside Callers. A Sad Case. A Rude Fellow. Rev. Mr. Strickle- 
 bat. My Revolver. An Explanation desired. Crazy People. A 
 Haunted House. The Revelation. A Play-woman. The Domi 
 nie s Sermons. Missions to perform. Sundry Gifts. Dispersing 
 the Rabble. A Glass of Old Port. Peace. 
 
 ;Y literary young lady promises to be as much of a 
 fixture at Woodbine Cottage as my old soldier 
 was at Hillside. She dropped in upon us just at 
 dinner-time one evening several months ago, to spend an 
 hour or two, and has been with us ever since. I am happy 
 in being able to state that it is not owing to my not having 
 read and given my opinion as to the character of her man 
 uscript that she remains with us, for I accomplished that 
 task many weeks since. When I gave up my twilight 
 walks to the Bronx, and my moonlight conversations on 
 the veranda with her, I found that I had more time to de 
 vote to the perusal of her manuscript. In fact, in less 
 than a week after these peregrinations and conversaziones 
 ceased I had finished my allotted work. I am afraid, 
 though, that the favorable opinion which I passed upon 
 Miss Floy s production incited her to make a fresh incur 
 sion into the field of literature. Indeed, I know it was so ; 
 for the very next day she came to the dinner-table with ex 
 ceedingly inky fingers and a badly arranged waterfall, be 
 sides being minus a collar and with boots unlaced, and, 
 asking me to excuse her untidiness, she termed it, how 
 ever, appearance, said that the praise I had bestowed 
 upon her recent production had induced her to commence
 
 94 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 writing a play a drama in five acts which she intended 
 to complete before she left Woodbine Cottage, and which, 
 when finished, she desired to submit to my judgment. 
 
 Now I have not, I know, a great deal to do ; but still, 
 after devoting fifteen hours a day to prescribed duties, I 
 have not much time, taking out sleeping hours, to give to 
 extra labor. I told Miss Floy as much, and added that, 
 unless there was some "let up " on rny present duties, I 
 did not know when I would be able to read her play. 
 
 She replied that she had considered all that, and, if my 
 wife had no objection, she thought a good plan would be to 
 come once a week, after the little ones had gone to bed, to 
 the library, and read aloud to me what she had written 
 during the preceding days. 
 
 " But what if I should fall asleep ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, then," she replied, u I will stop reading. Besides," 
 she added, " by this means Mrs. Gray will also have the 
 pleasure of hearing my play." 
 
 " Which privilege, I presume," I said, rather maliciously, 
 " she may never otherwise have." 
 
 . " Oh, yes, she will," said Miss Floy, quickly, " but not, 
 perhaps, until it is acted at the theatre ; and that, you 
 know, may not be for some time to come." 
 
 " That is true," I answered ; " but still, do you think that 
 my wife will care to listen to your play ? " 
 
 " Oh," said the incorrigible young woman ; " I know she 11 
 like dearly to hear it." 
 
 " Well," I said, " if she has no objections. I don t know 
 that I have ; only be careful not to make your readings 
 over an hour long." 
 
 She promised to observe this rule, and then retired tri 
 umphantly to her apartment. 
 
 I saw nothing more of that young lady for three days. 
 She took her meals quite irregularly, and, I understood, 
 was en deshabille all the time. She evidently had a severe 
 attack of drama on the brain, and was actively engaged in
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 95 
 
 working it off. I could hear her, though, from time to 
 time, when I was in the house, reciting aloud passages of 
 her composition ; and once, when there was a terrible com 
 motion in her room, and it sounded as if every article of 
 furniture therein was heing indiscriminately broken to 
 pieces, I knew that a climax had been reached, and proba 
 bly the first act was finished. And I was right; for late 
 that very evening I was aroused from my after-dinner nap 
 by a tap on the library door, and as I opened my eyes Miss 
 Floy, looking very much like Lady Macbeth, glided into the 
 room, clad in a long white gown, ruffled around the throat 
 and down the front in a double row, between which little 
 pearl buttons were studded. Her hair hung in slightly 
 disordered masses around her face, which was exceedingly 
 pale, while a touch of rouge on each cheek rather added to 
 the pallor, which was assisted by a dark line drawn under 
 her eyes. She bore in one hand a lighted candle, and in 
 the other a roll of manuscript. 
 
 I confess I was somewhat startled at her appearance ; 
 having the sanctity of my library invaded at that late hour 
 it was close on midnight by what looked like a female 
 apparition, rather overpowered me ; but I was, fortunately, 
 equal to the emergency, and instantly recognizing who it 
 was, and, further, knowing that my hour had come, I pre 
 pared myself, resignedly, by elevating my head on the sofa 
 and turning a little more on my right side, to listen to the 
 first act of Miss Floy s drama. 
 
 After all, it is not an unpleasant thing to hear an agree 
 able young damsel, with a musical voice, and clad in an 
 attractive costume, read aloud a play possessing more than 
 ordinary merit. Perhaps, too, the fact that Mrs. Gray was 
 beside me, hemming a dainty bit of ruffling, added to my 
 contentment. 
 
 As it was a warm night, the window near which Miss 
 Floy sat was open, the blinds only partially closed, and 
 through them the moonlight fell in softened radiance upon
 
 96 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 her face, lighting up and giving a more than usual intel 
 lectual cast to her features. The rending of the play pro 
 ceeded very successfully, and without interruption, until 
 near the close of the second act, where the villain of the 
 play is about to commit a deadly assault upon the heroine, 
 a young, lovely, virtuous, and unprotected orphan girl, 
 when Miss Floy and myself were startled by a violent 
 hammering at the front-door, accompanied with a loud de 
 mand for instant admittance. 
 
 Who it was or what it all meant I could not imagine : 
 
 O * 
 
 and although I had from time to time, in the pauses of 
 Miss Floy s reading, heard a suppressed murmur of voices, 
 as if some persons were talking just in front of the house, 
 I had paid no attention to it, and therefore this sudden at 
 tack upon my door took me by surprise. My wife and 
 children were quickly alarmed, and the latter, being much 
 frightened, set up a series of cries, which, combined with 
 the shouts outside, " served," as the newspaper reporters 
 say, " to make night hideous." 
 
 The noise below continuing with unabated vigor, Mrs. 
 Gray urged me to hasten my movements and go down to 
 the door and see what the trouble was. 
 
 When, therefore, I opened the door, I demanded, in no 
 mild tone, to know what was meant by disturbing me and 
 mine at this hour of the night. The persons outside 
 seemed rather surprised at rny questions, and a burly fel 
 low whom I did not know, but whom I understood after 
 ward was the bully politician of the village, seized me by 
 the arm and said, " Murder was what was meant, and they 
 would like to see the young woman as I was a-murdering." 
 
 I shook off the grasp of the rude fellow, and turning to 
 my nearest neighbor, the Rev. Mr. Stricklebat, asked him 
 to oblige me with an explanation of the strange proceed 
 ings in which he was taking so active a part. The old 
 gentleman shook his head, and turning to one of his pa 
 rishioners, another neighbor, said : " Well, well, this cool-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 97 
 
 ness on his part is more than I expected to witness ! I 
 think we had better proceed to search the house." 
 
 Ever since I learned that we possessed no policeman in 
 our village, I have kept a loaded revolver in my dressing- 
 table drawer ; and, as I had taken the precaution to bring 
 it with me down-stairs when I came, I was prepared to 
 prevent any such proceeding on their part. So, when I 
 produced the pistol, and assured them that my house could 
 not be searched, they not only gave up the point, but 
 evinced a decided disposition to retreat. Of the half-dozen 
 individuals present, only the Rev. Mr. Stricklebat showed 
 any courage, and when the others fell back, leaving him 
 standing tall and gaunt before me, I said that if he would 
 
 O O 
 
 like to come into the house he could do so ; and as there 
 was evidently an egregious blunder of some kind commit 
 ted by some one, I would be pleased to have him enlighten 
 me in regard to it. 
 
 When he entered, closing and locking the front-door, I 
 ushered him into the library. He seemed suspicious of the 
 pistol until I laid it on the table, when he brightened up 
 and said that it did really seem as if a mistake had been 
 made, and, as it had probably originated with him, it was 
 proper that he should endeavor to explain. " But who," he 
 asked, wiping his bald head with his handkerchief, " was 
 uttering those terrible threats which had so alarmed him ? " 
 
 " What threats ? " I asked. " I have heard none." 
 
 " None ! " he exclaimed. " Then we outside were all 
 crazy, or else the house is haunted. Do you mean to say 
 that you were asleep when we came to the door, and that 
 you heard no fearful imprecations ? " 
 
 " Well," I answered, "I was not asleep, that is very cer 
 tain ; but, as for say no more ! " I cried ; " I understand 
 it all now ! " 
 
 And I sat back in my chair and laughed heartily. This 
 proceeding on my part seemed to frighten the old parson 
 more than the display of the pistol had ; for he evidently 
 7
 
 98 OUT OF -TOWN. 
 
 thought I had gone mad. And it was not until Mrs. Gray 
 and Miss Floy, who, reassured by my laughter, had ap 
 peared, that I could find breath to explain to the old man 
 the error into which he had fallen. 
 
 Then I asked Miss Floy to bring to me her manuscript, 
 and requested her to read aloud several passages, before 
 the old dominie could understand how it was that he had 
 been deceived into supposing he heard two distinct per 
 sons, and one of these apparently a man. When he did 
 realize it, however, and heard Miss Floy declaim at one 
 moment in a most masculine voice, and the next in her 
 own silvery tones, he was greatly impressed, and asked me, 
 the next day, if she was a " stage-woman." 
 
 When I told him that she was not, but that she was en 
 gaged in writing the play, the recital of some portions 
 of which had so disturbed him, he said that he had al 
 ways preached against plays and play-actors, play-writers 
 and play-goers ; but he began to have his doubts whether, 
 after all, he was in the right. Tie had been led, since the 
 occurrence of last night, to think seriously upon the idea 
 whether, after all, a certain mission is not given to every 
 body in life to perform. " To one is given, as in my own 
 case," he continued, " the gift of writing and preaching 
 sermons ; to another, as in her case, the gift of writing and 
 performing plays. Now, it still further occurs to me that, 
 if I was given the gift of a play-writer, and, as is apparent 
 in her case, accompanied with the gift of a play-actor, I 
 should accept that as my mission on earth, and would live, 
 as far as possible, in accordance with it. I don t think I 
 myself shall ever go to see a play enacted ; but I shall 
 never again preach against them, or those who go to wit 
 ness them." 
 
 When the old parson became assured that there was no 
 murder being committed in my dwelling, he went out to 
 the rabble gathered at the door, and, explaining the matter 
 to them, advised them to go quietly home, which advice,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 39 
 
 with much laughter, they followed. Then he returned to 
 the house and told me that he had been engaged, at the 
 late hour of midnight, in writing his next Sunday s sermon, 
 when he was verily surprised to hear, rising on the silent 
 air, what was apparently the voices of two persons engaged 
 in an angry dispute. Several expressions of a threatening 
 character attracted his attention and decided him in going 
 to learn from whence they proceeded. Aware that mine 
 was a Christian household, he could not at first credit his 
 ears when he found that these high words proceeded from 
 my library. He was led to suspect that a fearful deed was 
 about to be committed, and, on rousing a neighbor or two, 
 and stopping a couple of passers-by, who heard with him 
 the frightful imprecations, the party decided to invade, vi et 
 armis, my dwelling. With what result the reader is al 
 ready acquainted. 
 
 The old dominie seemed, before he left us, to fully enjoy 
 the blunder he had made, and, as I was fearful that the ex 
 posure to the night air which he had undergone might be 
 detrimental to his health, I opened a bottle of crusty old 
 port, which had cobwebbed for years in sundry cellars, and 
 the companions of which were only accustomed to being 
 opened on birthdays and christenings. I think if the old 
 parson finished his sermon that night, it possessed more 
 than usual excellence ; for, when he departed, he gave us 
 all his blessing, and we, during the remainder of the night, 
 slept in peace.
 
 100 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 An Autumnal Storm. At Home. Boots. Balmorals ami Polish. 
 In a Shoe. Small Feet. St. Crispin. The Tapping of a Little Foot. 
 " Why the Shoe Pinches." New Principle. The Poetry of Slippers. 
 Cinderella s Glass Slipper. A Plain Moral. The Ancients on Shoes. 
 Asleep. 
 
 AM very thankful, my dear," said Mrs. Gray to 
 me, as we drew our chairs toward the centre-table 
 around the library-lamp in the library, " that you 
 are not obliged to be in town, exposed to the chilling storm 
 this evening, but can remain comfortably at home with me. 
 How the wind blows, rattling the blinds and driving the 
 rain against the window-panes. Oh ! the streets of a 
 great city at night, when one of these autumnal storms is 
 raging, are dreary enough. What a forsaken and home 
 less appearance has the pedestrian whom one beholds by 
 the flickering blaze of the street-light, hurrying along, buf 
 feted by the wind, and striving vainly to shield himself 
 from the rain behind an umbrella that it is a labor to carry, 
 so strong is the wind and so determinedly it blows. You 
 are a very fortunate man, Mr. Gray, in having so cheerful 
 a room in which to pass such an evening as is this. The 
 wood-fire blazes cheerily, you have plenty of new books to 
 read, and, if you desire it, there are all the concomitants 
 for the brewing of a punch close at hand. No one but a 
 lonely bachelor on wicked deeds intent would venture out- 
 of-doors on such an evening as this. No married man, I 
 am certain, would think of such a thing, much less allow 
 himself to hint such a thought to his wife, or attempt to 
 execute it. It would be preposterous, my love, would it 
 not?"
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 101 
 
 " It would be so, Mrs. Gray," I answered somewhat 
 quickly ; " but I do not really understand the object of 
 your remarks, my dear, for I assure you / have no inten 
 tion of venturing abroad to-night. If you think, because 
 I told the servant, when I first came home, to get my thick 
 boots and apply some oil-paste blacking to them, that I 
 purpose going out, you are much mistaken. I shall prob 
 ably require the boots to-morrow morning, but not before. 
 Besides, this evening I propose devoting to our club, and 
 as there is little prospect of visitors, suppose we begin im 
 mediately." 
 
 " Well, what shall we talk about ? " 
 
 " Why, if it boots nothing to you, my dear," I replied, 
 " let the subject be boots." 
 
 " Boots ! Mr. Gray," exclaimed my wife in surprise ; 
 " what kind of boots ? " 
 
 " All kinds," I replied ; " from the famous seven-league 
 ones of the times when giants were abroad, to the Balmor 
 als and Polish boots worn by the ladies at the present 
 day." 
 
 " The subject does not, I confess," said Mrs. Gray, 
 " seem to me especially interesting ; but you may perhaps 
 be able to state facts sufficiently interesting to keep the 
 little ones, who appear to be wide enough awake at this 
 moment, from falling asleep. I know you to be fearfully 
 correct in your statement of facts, and have often won 
 dered that you would condescend to build castles in the 
 air, or read fairy tales, as you sometimes do." 
 
 " Or Mother Goose s Melodies, I suppose," I suggested: 
 " you remember, of course, the nursery rhyme about the 
 old woman who lived in a shoe, and whose progeny was so 
 numerous she did n t know what to do ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " Well, that old woman is one of my facts, or, rather, she 
 represents a fact. The story, if interpreted, would read 
 something as follows : The old woman is plainly nothing
 
 102 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 more or less than the foot itself; the children are the five 
 toes ; the shoe was a fashionable one, doubtless, made so 
 small as to cramp the foot until it wished its five toes were 
 out of the way. But, what to do to get them out of the way 
 was the puzzle of its life ; so to settle the matter it put on a 
 white stocking and a black, and then put its toes to bed in 
 the end of the shoe, where, owing to the limited space they 
 occupied, they suffered terrible punishment, which was re 
 newed every day as long as the shoe lasted." 
 
 " The shoe then should have been made on a larger 
 last," was Mrs. Gray s bad pun. 
 
 " You are correct, amiable woman," I replied ; " or else 
 the plan now in vogue in Paris, of amputating one or more 
 of the toes to allow for the narrowness of the shoe, should 
 have been adopted. The fact is, my dear, we are remark 
 ably partial to small feet, and will suffer almost any incon 
 venience and not a little torture, rather than wear boots or 
 shoes of a proper shape. Nature has been unkind enough 
 to give us feet the shape of which is not in accordance 
 with our ideas of true beauty ; therefore we seek, by aid of 
 the followers of St. Crispin, to bring their form up to the 
 ideal standard we have marked out for ourselves." 
 
 " This, then, is the reason why the shoe pinches, I sup 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my love," I answered ; " and it is that you 
 may avoid such an infliction in future that I have sought 
 for and found a sole that will unquestionably supersede all 
 others, and be the means of restoring the form of the foot 
 to its primeval shape. The remedy consists simply in 
 making the sole of the boot correspond exactly to the shape 
 of the natural foot ; and when this is once adopted, we 
 shall hear no more complaints of feet diseases." 
 
 " It is all very well for you, Mr. Gray, whose feet are by 
 no means small, to speak thus ; but do you think the 
 ladies will consent to put such an ungracefully shaped shoe 
 as this would be on their pretty feet ? Could you find a
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 103 
 
 "bootmaker in the land who would make one ? Would any 
 fashionable bottier of Broadway, think you, deign to place 
 a shoe of that pattern in his show-window beside the tiny 
 Cinderella slippers, the dainty dove-colored gaiters, the 
 bridelike white satin shoes, or the strong, thick-soled, and 
 healthful Polish boots, that lace high up and support the 
 ankle better than any other ? No ; I 11 answer No a hun 
 dred times." 
 
 Mrs. Gray s excitement was curious to witness, and as 
 she rose and stood before me, her little foot incased in a 
 toilet-slipper, ornamented with an exquisite rosette tapped 
 significantly upon the carpet, as if to assert the right of 
 dainty feet to wear any shaped shoes they could get into, 
 provided Fashion stamped them with its sign-manual. 
 
 " Besides, Mr. Gray," she continued, " what do you know 
 about the proper shape of a shoe ? How long since you 
 devoted yourself to investigating the subject ? Ah ! my St. 
 Crispin, I fear you know very little in regard to it." 
 
 " To confess the truth," I said, taking my place upon the 
 rug before the fire, " my knowledge is limited to a little 
 work, entitled, Why the Shoe Pinches, recently written 
 by a learned German Professor of Anatomy in the Univer 
 sity of Zurich. The first thing, the Professor says, to be 
 considered is the great toe." 
 
 Mrs. Gray dropped her eyes as if ignoring that useful 
 member of the pedal family ; nevertheless I continued, 
 growing more oratorical as I proceeded, as follows : 
 
 " This toe does most of our walking for us. A line 
 drawn from the point of this toe to the middle of its root 
 would, he says, if continued, pass to the middle of the 
 heel, but, as boots and shoes are made, the tendency is to 
 twist the toe out of this line. Therefore he claims that 
 the shoe should be made to suit the natural position of the 
 great toe as well as the little toe (which has hitherto had 
 a disproportionate share of the attention of mankind). 
 Boots, if made on principle, ought to be so shaped that
 
 104 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 when a pair are side by side, with the heels in contact, the 
 inner lines of the front part of the soles should also be in 
 contact along the whole edge to the end of the great toes, 
 so that if the toes are to be pointed this must be done by 
 taking away from the outside alone. Now, then," I con 
 tinued, dropping the Professor, " I must allow that this 
 style of boot would, until we became accustomed to it, 
 seem very inelegant, and give all who wore them the ap 
 pearance of turning in their toes ; but the comfort thereby 
 gained would outweigh, in my opinion, appearances which, 
 after all, only possess a fictitious value." 
 
 " Well," my wife replied, " all I can say, Mr. Gray, is, 
 that if you can get the fashionable bootmakers of the city 
 to introduce Balmoral boots, or any other kind adapted for 
 ladies wear, made on this scientific model, why, I will 
 promise to adopt them, but with this understanding, that 
 you will first make your appearance in boots similarly con 
 structed." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I replied ; " it is but right that 
 the stronger sex should take the lead in an innovation of 
 this kind ; so you need not be surprised if some day I ap 
 pear wearing this new style of boot." 
 
 " Remember, Mr. Gray," she said, " that, for my part, I 
 am perfectly satisfied with the present fashion, and would 
 not willingly exchange the shape of my stout Balmorals, 
 my cloth gaiters, or my kid slippers, to that for which you 
 have been pleading. Every age and nation has its pecul 
 iar fashion of coverings for the feet, and I have never 
 seen or read of any which I thought better adapted for the 
 people of to-day and of this country than those now made 
 and worn. Tell me, if you can, of any superior, or indeed 
 equal, to the present make." 
 
 Thereupon Mrs. Gray subsided into an easy-chair, thrust 
 one of her slippered feet beyond the hem of her dress, and 
 apparently studied, with the air of a connoisseur, the brill 
 iant rosette, with its gold buckle, that crowned the instep.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 105 
 
 " There is a deal of poetry," I mused aloud, " embalmed 
 in a lady s slipper ; there is romance in a pair of gaiters, 
 and love has before this lurked in a satin shoe. It was an 
 ancient custom, more honored in the breach than in the 
 observance, to cast an old shoe after a departing bride and 
 groom to bring them luck. Immense good fortune befell 
 one Cinderella because she chanced to have a small foot, 
 and attended a ball wearing glass slippers. I have not 
 heard that a single gentlewoman who was at the ball given 
 to the Prince of Wales, when he was in this country, pos 
 sessed the wit to follow Cinderella s example. Had one 
 done so, she would, doubtless, at this moment be the bride 
 of the prince. The moral is plain : if you wish to marry 
 a prince, dance in glass slippers at balls given in his honor. 
 There will doubtless be another prince here before long, 
 and the young ladies will do well to enclose the above 
 moral in the casket of memory." 
 
 I turned my eyes toward Mrs. Gray for an approving 
 smile. Alas ! the dear woman was asleep ; it was evident 
 to me that she cared nothing about princes, and the thought 
 consoled me. 
 
 " Mrs. Gray," I said, and I stirred the contents of a gob 
 let, which somehow happened to be before me, and from 
 which a lemony-whiskey-sugary incense arose, with a spoon, 
 causing the glass to jingle, and thereby arousing my esti 
 mable spouse, who immediately sat erect and looked at me 
 inquiringly, as if she were not certain of what I had been 
 talking. " Mrs. Gray, I continued, apparently not noticing 
 that she had been asleep, and dissimulating so cleverly 
 she actually was convinced, if she thought of it all, that 
 she had been awake every moment, "Mrs. Gray," I re 
 peated for the third time. 
 
 " Well, I hear you," she interrupted; "that is the fifth 
 time you ve uttered my name. Children, listen to your 
 father. Proceed." 
 
 Dear woman, she evidently had been dreaming, or
 
 106 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 else the contents of her goblet had been too much for 
 her. 
 
 " Mrs. Gray," I uttered again. 
 
 " Why, dear me ! " she cried, " what is the matter ? Go 
 on." 
 
 " Mrs. Gray," I added, impressively, for the fifth time. 
 
 " TVell ! " she said, regarding me attentively. 
 
 " You alluded a moment since," I said. although in 
 reality it was fifteen minutes, but I did not wish her to 
 think I knew she had been asleep, " to the different 
 styles of coverings for the feet that, in various ages of the 
 world and among various nations, have been in vogue." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " she interrupted ; " I said that in the 
 early part of the evening." 
 
 I paid no attention to her remark, and proceeded. 
 
 " The ancient Egyptians, as we learn from their paint 
 ings and sculpture, wore a sort of skate of basket-work. 
 The Assyrians, who were addicted to clambering over 
 rocky mountains, protected their feet in stout, thick-soled 
 buskins. The Persians were partial to slippers. The 
 Greek women wore sandals, but the men liked nothing better 
 than to go barefoot ; consequently the Romans, who had 
 boots and shoes for all classes of society, kicked them out 
 of their possessions, and became the actual leaders of the 
 world. The Greeks, however, may be said to have carried 
 their shoes on their legs, as they wore a kind of skin-pro 
 tector ; hence the epithet of the well-greaved Greeks. 
 The Emperor Caligula performed a neat feat when he 
 adopted for his own use the little spiked shoe, with its 
 thick sole, until then worn only by the common soldier. 
 The Lacedemonians revelled in red shoes. A Roman cit 
 izen usually wore black shoes on simple occasions, and 
 purple ones were worn by coxcombs on occasion of balls 
 being given to princes and such ilk. The ladies of Rome 
 delighted in white and red shoes. The chief magistrates, 
 also, on days of ceremony, appeared in red shoes. The
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 107 
 
 noble classes had silver crescents on their shoes, which 
 served as buckles. In the ninth and tenth centuries the 
 greatest princes of Europe wore wooden shoes, or the 
 upper part of leather and the sole of wood. In the reign 
 of William Rufus, a great beau, one Robert, surnamed 
 Ramshorn, introduced a curious shoe, with long, sharp 
 points, stuffed with tow, and twisted like a ram s horn. In 
 Richard the Second s reign the points of these shoes were 
 of such a length that they were tied to the knees with 
 gold and silver chains. In Chaucer s time the upper part 
 of these shoes were cut in imitation of church windows, 
 and worn by many unholy persons. In 1463 the Parlia 
 ment of England prohibited the use of shoes or boots with 
 peaks exceeding two inches in length, under severe penal 
 ties ; but the sentence of excommunication was necessary 
 before the points went down to two inches. King John 
 had exquisite taste in boots, as we read that he ordered a 
 pair for his royal spouse to be embroidered with circles. 
 Henry the Third was a bit of a dandy in his chaussure, for 
 he had his boots powdered with lioncels. Henry the 
 Seventh, and his bluff son and successor, wore shoes so 
 broad that they obtained the name of ducks bills. In 
 Elizabeth s time we first hear of shoes being made right 
 and left. This fashion, however, went out, and was not 
 revived until the beginning of the present century. Dur 
 ing the past fifty years we have not materially advanced in 
 comfortable and satisfactory shoes. I expect, however, 
 that, with the help of the Zurich professor, the people will 
 put their feet only into such boots as are natural in shape, 
 and, consequently, worn with ease and propriety." 
 
 I may have talked on in this fashion for an hour longer, 
 though I cannot tell, for I had been reading up the sub 
 ject from encyclopaedias and other books, on purpose to 
 surprise Mrs. Gray with my knowledge concerning boots 
 and shoes ; but, thinking I had spoken sufficiently, I turned 
 to her and asked :
 
 108 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " And now, my dear, what do you think of my observa 
 tions ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray was again asleep. The children, too, were 
 locked in slumber. I looked at my watch, and found it to 
 be twelve o clock. 
 
 " My dear," I said, touching her gently on the shoulder, 
 " the meeting of the club for this evening is dissolved." 
 
 Mrs. Gray, after waking, said, " Very well." And the 
 little ones when aroused naturally commenced to cry.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XVITL 
 
 Milking. A Difficult Process. Exodus of Servants. A Sweet Disposi 
 tion. Down in the Dust. Flanderian Oaths. Defiant Goat. 
 Over the Palings. Good Exercise. Billy-boy. Black-matan. Gin 
 gerbread and a Rope. Victory. A Right and a Wrong Side. Cream. 
 
 HAVE learned to milk my goat. Now, if there 
 be one thing more than another which a man who 
 lives in the country and keeps a cow or a goat 
 ought to know, it is how to milk. Not that I would advise 
 him to follow up the practice every day, for it is to be pre 
 sumed that he will have a servant, who will, as a rule, 
 attend to this business ; but it sometimes happens that 
 servants leave you without warning, or go to " wakes " or 
 weddings, and don t make their appearance at milking- 
 time, as they promised to ; and then, unless you are your 
 self capable of milking, you might as well be without the 
 lacteal-yielding animal ; besides, the poor creature will 
 suffer if she be neglected. 
 
 Therefore it was, after having been placed in such a 
 quandary, through reason of my two servants leaving house 
 affairs to take care of themselves, by going off one Sunday 
 afternoon and failing to come back until the following day, 
 whereby my family suffered much inconvenience, dinner 
 being delayed to an unreasonable hour at night, and the 
 goat going without being milked until much beyond her 
 usual time, therefore it was, I say, that I decided to learn 
 the art of milking. 
 
 I essayed .to milk our goat on the occasion to which I 
 have just referred, but utterly failed of accomplishing my 
 object The process looked to me, when I had watched
 
 110 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 a person milking, so perfectly simple, that I supposed it 
 would require no more skill than it would to pump a pail 
 of water. In the first place, the goat would n t stand still, 
 but kept moving about in a most unnecessary manner ; 
 swaying first to one side and then to the other ; then back 
 ing with great rapidity and skill, and anon making a for 
 ward movement, accompanied with a kick of her hind-legs 
 which invariably sent the pail flying behind her, and, until 
 I became a little posted in the movement and prepared 
 myself for it, leaving me sprawling on the turf. Every 
 time, though, that I got hold of her udders, I worked and 
 tugged at them with such zeal that I thought either the 
 milk must flow or they would come off. But, though I 
 squeezed and twisted them in every imaginable fashion, 
 not a drop of milk rewarded my exertions. I tried to coax 
 her by singing, 
 
 "Nanny goat, nanny goat, give down your milk," 
 
 a little poem slightly altered from one addressed to " cushy- 
 cow," in " Mother Goose s Melodies ; " but all to no pur 
 pose. She was apparently as coy about disposing of her 
 milk as if she were only a kid of tender age, instead of 
 being the matronly old goat she was. 
 
 Now, I have a very sweet disposition, to which Mrs. 
 Gray, if she were asked, would testify ; but there is a limit 
 even to my sweetness ; and when that goat had bothered 
 me for about an hour, and I had become heated by chasing 
 her around the garden, and got my garments soiled by 
 falling in the dust, I made up my mind that any further 
 mild proceedings on my part, in connection with that animal, 
 would be entirely thrown away, and that rigorous measures 
 ought to be adopted if I expected to accomplish anything 
 in the milking-line. 
 
 So I swore a terrible Flanderian oath, and, shaking my 
 fist at the animal, gave her to understand that her fun was 
 played out, and that I did n t intend to stand any more of 
 her confounded nonsense.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. HI 
 
 That the goat understood every word I uttered, I am 
 convinced ; for she stood still, listening quietly to what I 
 had to say, until I had finished, when she put her head 
 down between her fore-legs, shaking it defiantly and wag 
 ging her brief tail in a most provoking manner. She 
 allowed me, moreover, to get almost to her without stirring ; 
 and then, with a bound and a wickedly sounding bleat, she 
 dashed past me, went over the garden palings, and scam 
 pered down the road. 
 
 It may be a pleasure as well as good exercise for an 
 amiable man, of a quiet Sunday evening, to chase a goat 
 along a dusty highway, but, as my amiability had departed, 
 I came to the conclusion that I would see the goat drowned 
 first, before I would follow her, notwithstanding that my 
 wife urged me to do so, and the baby, when he saw his 
 expectant supper go flying in the way it did over the fence, 
 set up a most pitiful cry, and refused to be comforted. Still, 
 I felt that something must be done, but was in a quandary 
 as to what course to pursue. So I bethought me of the 
 black-matan Gumbo, and, whistling him out of his cloisters 
 in the barn, where he still leads the life of an invalid, 1 
 started him in pursuit of the goat. He moved off at first 
 briskly, and with an angry yelp, on three legs, but gave 
 out before he reached the goat, who stood defiantlv await- 
 
 o v 
 
 ing him in the middle of the road, and returned limping 
 and with drooping tail to the grateful precincts of his 
 hospital quarters, from which neither threats nor coaxings 
 could again induce him to come forth. 
 
 Just then the fool of the village, who seems to possess 
 more good sense than some persons who are not called 
 fools, came along, and when he saw the goat far down the 
 road, where she had halted to curvet and prance like a gay 
 war-horse, and perceived me standing at the gate looking 
 at her, he began to chuckle, and, in a peculiar drawling 
 fashion, with a treble voice, he said : " Guess your goat s 
 run away ag in, squire. Why don t you catch it, squire ? "
 
 112 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 And then he chuckled. " You d better go to the pound 
 ag in in the mornin , squire, an see if it s there." 
 
 " Hang the goat ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " What er for, squire ? " he asked. 
 
 " Because," I replied, " she is more trouble than she is 
 worth." 
 
 " Guess you donno much about goats, squire ; do yer ?" 
 
 " No," I said ; " and I don t want to, either. Look here, 
 Billy-boy, if you 11 catch and bring that goat home to me, 
 I 11 give you a quarter." 
 
 " Don t want yer quarter, squire," he replied ; " want a 
 hunk o gingerbread an a rope." 
 
 Billy was promptly supplied with a piece of gingerbread 
 and a rope, and immediately set off to capture the goat. 
 He went shambling along down the road, talking witlessly 
 to himself, until he passed the goat, which had watched him 
 until he had gone by with suspicion, when, seemingly re 
 assured that he intended no attack on her liberty, she 
 commenced curveting and dancing upon her hind-legs as 
 before. When the fool had gone a few yards past her, he 
 sat down upon a stone at the road-side, and began to eat 
 his gingerbread and chuckle to himself. The goat, at 
 tracted by his manners, gradually drew toward him, pranc 
 ing and snuffing about him until she was nearly within his 
 reach, when he tossed her a piece of gingerbread, which 
 she seized and swallowed. Then he tossed her another 
 bit, and, at last, she went close to him and nibbled it from 
 his open palm. Thereupon he slipped the rope over her 
 horns, and, drawing it into a knot, led her, feeding her with 
 a bit of cake, and chuckling loudly as he walked along, 
 triumphantly back to Woodbine Cottage. 
 
 Then it was that, under the instruction of the village 
 fool, I took my first lesson in milking. I learned, to com 
 mence with, that there was a right as well as a wrong side 
 to a goat, and that no goat which has any respect for her 
 self will permit you to milk her from the wrong side.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 113 
 
 Though, why one side is not as good as another I cannot 
 understand ; but I suppose education is at the bottom of it 
 Then the poor fool showed me how to draw, in a proper 
 manner, the milk from the willing goat ; and, after a few 
 unsuccessful attempts, I at last succeeded in obtaining 
 about a pint of pure milk. From that day onward I have, 
 at sundry times, followed up this employment with en 
 couraging results, and I am inclined to believe that the 
 cream which rises on the milk which I obtain is thicker 
 and richer than that drawn by ordinary individuals. 
 8
 
 114 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Goodly Company. Not dressed. Lamb and Wine. Elia. Bridget. 
 Charley Lamb s Failings; his Works. "La Veuve Clicquot." 
 " Golden Wedding." Native Wines. The Banks of the Ohio. 
 My Friend s Verses. " The Wine King." Longworth. 
 
 will have a goodly company around us this even- 
 ing, my dear," I said to Mrs. Gray, as we drew 
 our chairs toward the centre-table ; " a brave 
 company of wise men and beautiful women, whose like we 
 do not often entertain." 
 
 " Why, gracious ! Mr. Gray," exclaimed my wife, invol 
 untarily smoothing her dress with one hand and arranging 
 her curls with the other, " what do you mean ? If you 
 have invited any distinguished persons to be present at our 
 club this evening, I shall never forgive you. Look at me." 
 And the interesting woman rose and promenaded to and 
 fro. " Am I dressed to receive company ? " 
 
 " You certainly appear to be dressed sufficiently well for 
 the wife of a quiet man like myself," I replied, "albeit 
 your gown is not of moire antique, trimmed with costly 
 lace, nor bestud with diamonds ; but for all that it is of 
 fine material, and, in my eyes, shows exquisite taste in the 
 wearer." 
 
 " You are a flatterer, my dear ; but, tell me, who do you 
 expect here ? " 
 
 " None other than those now present," I replied, bowing 
 gravely to the right and left. 
 
 Mrs. Gray gazed around her in astonishment. 
 
 " My dear," she asked, " are you well this evening ? 
 There is no one present but you and I, so far as I can 
 perceive."
 
 IX THE UliKARY. .1. F. WKIII.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 115 
 
 " You are mistaken, my Jove," I answered ; " for there is 
 Shakspeare looking down upon us from the wall, and Mil 
 ton, Burns, and Byron standing in the corners of the room. 
 And there before you, in that costly work, appear the lovely 
 features of many of the women of the South. Besides, 
 here, at my elbow, is Lamb, embalmed in beautiful type 
 and on tinted paper, forming a volume which it would have 
 gladdened his heart to have beheld. Did you know, my 
 dear, that Elia was one of the few English writers of the 
 present century whom I should have been glad to have 
 met?" 
 
 " I did not ; but I can easily understand, knowing your 
 tastes, that such is the case. But why do you like Lamb ? " 
 
 " For many reasons. Not only is his character a most 
 lovable one, but his writings are filled with tender thoughts, 
 quaintly yet naturally expressed. His humor is never low ; 
 his wit, while sharp, is without malice ; his sentiment, 
 though pathetic, is never mawkish in character ; and his 
 show of learning does not degenerate into pedantry. 
 Gentle in his manners to a degree that would be pro 
 nounced effeminate in any other whose life, like his, was 
 not passed as the nurse and comforter of his sister Bridget 
 Elia, he winds himself into our hearts, and never fails of 
 there finding a welcome. What a lesson does the story of 
 his life teach ! his sacrifice of self in behalf of his sister ; 
 his yielding for her sake his young love ; his patience, his 
 cheerfulness, his pure, childlike disposition, and his un 
 wavering regard for all his friends, these things teach us 
 a lesson which, if we be true men and women, will prove 
 that Charles Lamb did not live his life in vain." 
 
 " You speak feelingly, my love. But had he no unpleas- 
 ing traits ? Was he perfect ? " 
 
 " Alas ! my dear," I replied, " we are none of us perfect. 
 Perhaps it is better for us that we are imperfect, else 
 we had no need of a Saviour. Charles Lamb had his fail 
 ings ; becai 1 se he was weak at times we are enabled, per-
 
 116 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 haps, the better to understand and appreciate him. There 
 could exist no sympathy between us, if it were not that he 
 possessed mortal weaknesses. My dear, let us think of 
 Lamb only as the gentle-hearted Elia. Have you read 
 his entire works ? " 
 
 " I believe so," she answered ; " I am sure of it, if they 
 be comprised in his Essays of Elia, his Rosamund Gray, 
 
 his tragedy of John Woodvil, his farce of Mr. H , 
 
 and sundry poems." 
 
 " And you have never read his letters and final memo 
 rials, edited by Sergeant Talfourd ? " I asked. 
 
 " Never," she replied. 
 
 " Then, my dear, allow me to say," I continued, " that 
 you do not yet know the loveliness of his life. You will 
 find in these four volumes," I added, after a pause, placing 
 my hand on the books, " the complete works of the dear 
 and quaint old writer, Charles Lamb. And now, my love, 
 with your permission, we will drink to his memory in a 
 glass of wine." 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Gray ; what kind do you desire ? Will 
 you have La Veuve Clicquot, or the Golden Wedding ? 
 
 " Oh, we will take the Clicquot first, and, while the 
 bead is on, I will sing you a song of mine, and then we 
 will have the Golden Wedding ; for, though this be a new 
 brand, its name will serve to remind us of the fifty years 
 of unceasing, watchful love and care given by Charley 
 Lamb to his sister Mary." 
 
 And then I sung the following song in praise of " La 
 Veuve Clicquot " : 
 
 I love the wine 
 Pressed from the vine 
 That in la belle France grows ; 
 It sparkles bright, 
 With rosy light, 
 And is la veuve Clicquot s. 
 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot !
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 117 
 
 Let poets sing 
 Of maids and spring, 
 And western wine that flows ; 
 Autumn for me, 
 And widows free, 
 With wine of veuve Clicquot s ! 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot ! 
 
 While lovers kiss, 
 And dream of bliss, 
 And speak in whispers low, 
 My sweetest dreams 
 Shall be of Rheims, 
 And of la veuve Clicquot. 
 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot ! 
 
 The wine I praise 
 Embalms my days, 
 And strength and joy bestows ; 
 It warms my heart, 
 Bids grief depart, 
 And is la veuve Clicquot s. 
 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot I 
 
 No other wine 
 Is half so fine, 
 No vines that vineyard shows 
 Such grapes can bear, 
 Whose vintage rare 
 Will equal veuve Clicquot s. 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot 1 
 
 Then, when I drain 
 
 This rich champagne 
 
 From goblet that o erflows,
 
 118 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Or guest, or host, 
 One health I 11 toast, 
 T is hers la veuve Clicquot s, - 
 The widow Clicquot ! 
 Fill high drain low : 
 Vive la veuve Clicquot ! 
 
 " Are you aware, my dear," I asked, as Mrs. Gray, hav 
 ing changed the wine and glasses before me, resumed her 
 chair, " that there is a prospect of our having, in a few 
 years, a superior red wine of native manufacture equal to 
 Burgundy ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray, not being aware of it, shook her head to 
 signify as much. 
 
 " Now, red wine," I continued, " is much needed," 
 Mrs. Gray this time nodded assent, " and, in this con 
 nection, a friend of mine, who lives out West among the 
 vineyards that line the banks of the Ohio, has ventured a 
 verse or two on the subject. I have not the poem before 
 me, but, as near as I can recollect, he sings : 
 
 Our Bacchus-god is pale as yet, 
 
 A wreath of lilies crowns his head, 
 Where not a single rose is set, 
 Nor gleams his flag with bars of red. 
 
 Again," I added : 
 
 " The wine that s white is like the light 
 
 Through crystal air of morning shed ; 
 But all of evening s soft delight, 
 
 And warmth, and love, are in the red. 
 
 And, once more, in view of the successful consummation," 
 I continued : 
 
 " Lo ! when the sun, at evening s close, 
 
 Encouched on ruby clouds shall sink, 
 And to his soft and sweet repose 
 The merry millions fill and drink ; 
 
 " No lifted cup in all the West 
 
 But shall. reflect with deepened hue 
 The rosy smile wherewith he blest 
 Their revels when he bade adieu. "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 119 
 
 " Beautiful, my dear, very beautiful," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Gray, as I finished. " Let us toast their author." And 
 we did so. 
 
 " And now, Mrs. Gray," I said, " I will sing to you some 
 other verses of my own, not so good as the lines I just 
 repeated ; but, as they are mine, you will, I trust, not criti 
 cize them too severely." Thereupon I assumed my favor 
 ite place upon the rug before the fire, and in a not unmusi 
 cal voice, I hope, entranced Mrs. Gray with the following, 
 entitled 
 
 THE WINE-KING. 
 
 I SING in a goodly measure 
 
 The rhyme of the twining vine, 
 That yields its autumn treasure 
 
 Of pure and sparkling wine ; 
 
 Of the luscious grape that blushes 
 
 Where western waters glide ; 
 Of the rosy flood that gushes 
 
 From presses deep and wide ; 
 
 And the king who caused to flourish, 
 
 To blossom and to bear, 
 The vine whose grapes shall nourish, 
 
 Whose wine shall conquer care. 
 
 Then with clusters white and yellow, 
 
 Purple,, and black, and red, 
 God-Bacchus, the jolly fellow, 
 
 Should crown the wine-king s head. 
 
 For there is no wine surpasses 
 
 This of the golden West ; 
 T is the wine to toast the lasses, 
 
 And cheer the welcome guest. 
 
 Then give to the wine-king glory, 
 
 Shout songs of praise and mirth, 
 Nor ever forget his story, 
 
 But long recall his worth.
 
 120 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " There, Mrs. Gray," I exclaimed, rubbing my hands to 
 gether in a congratulatory manner, as I concluded the 
 song, " what do you think of that ? " 
 
 " I think, my dear," she replied, " you will never be a 
 great singer, nor a great poet" 
 
 "Mrs. Gray," I said, very decidedly, "the meeting of 
 the club is adjourned."
 
 WATCHING THE ECUl SK. .1. (!. BROWN
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 An Early Eclipse. Smoked Glass. At Breakfast. What my little Ones 
 and Myself talk about. Great Travellers. Ballooning. Re-dressing. 
 Smut and Purity. Little Cherubs. All Day. An Observatory. A 
 Telescope. Miss Floy complains; her Indignation. Sights through a 
 Tin Telescope. " So high." Spots on the Fingers and on the Heart. 
 Miss Floy correct. 
 
 had an eclipse in our village the other day. It 
 commenced, I think, about sunrise, for the chil 
 dren, I observed, were engaged in smoking, over 
 a candle, a bit of glass, at that early hour of the morning, 
 and immediately thereafter proceeded to injure their eyes 
 by looking sunward through it. They must have been very 
 industrious, for I noticed, when they came to the breakfast- 
 table, a half-hour afterward, that each one s nose had a 
 smutty spot on the end of it ; that his fingers were black 
 ened and his clean clothes soiled. Thereupon I made up 
 my mind that eclipses before breakfast were nuisances. I 
 was more than ever convinced of this when my wife ordered 
 the nurse to take the little ones from the table and re-wash 
 and re-dress them. But there was no redress for the 
 annoyance which this proceeding caused me. The carrying 
 away of those children destroyed the pleasant bearing of 
 the breakfast-table ; for as I had already filled their several 
 plates with food, it did not seem to me exactly the thing to 
 remove them from the table on account of a smutty finger 
 or two, and before they had partaken of it. Besides, I 
 missed the prattles of the little ones, who, at breakfast, 
 usually give me the programme of the coming day s pro 
 ceedings, as far as they are individually concerned, and
 
 .122 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 which is sometimes of the most wonderful description. 
 They are much given to going on long journeys, and will 
 obtain my mature advice as to the best and most expeditious 
 manner of going to the far-off places which they propose to 
 visit while I am gone to the city. They have travelled a 
 good deal, recently, in the balloon, which they had heard 
 me speak of as being moored near the Central Park, and 
 in which I had nearly been seduced into making an as 
 cension by my literary young lady, who held out remarkable 
 temptations as inducements for me to go up with her some 
 fine afternoon. I made up my mind, however, that rail 
 roading on the Harlem route was as much in the way of 
 venturousness as I cared at present about undertaking ; 
 and, so I quietly replied to Miss Floy, when she importuned 
 me to accompany her, " Sufficient for the day is the evil 
 thereof/ But my little ones took the risks, and many a 
 time as they gayly informed me at the breakfast-table 
 they were about to accomplish as soon as I had taken my 
 departure undertook long journeys to Jerusalem, and 
 Bagdad, and Mesopotamia, and Hong Kong, and other 
 places of renown, in that balloon. And then, when I came 
 home at evening, they would give me an animated account 
 of their visit. 
 
 On the present occasion, however, I was obliged to go to 
 town without being informed where my little ones intended 
 spending the day ; for, although they retired from the table 
 in good order and without any special outbreak, yet, when 
 they reached the nursery, I judged, from the tumult that 
 ensued, that war had been declared between them and the 
 nursery maid, and it would be some time before they found 
 their way back to the breakfast-table. And I was correct ; 
 for, although I lingered at the table so long that I was in 
 danger of losing my usual train, not a glimpse of my little 
 ones did I again obtain. 
 
 Now, if I had my own way, which, indeed, I seldom 
 do, I should have kept those children at the table. What
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 123 
 
 matters a speck or two of black on the outside of the body, 
 so long as the spirit within is white and unsullied ? Why 
 take exceptions to garments a little soiled, when we know 
 that the wearers would assume the spotless robes of angels 
 were they to pass from earth to heaven ? 
 
 I said something like this to Mrs. Gray, as the children 
 disappeared from the breakfast-room ; but she, being a 
 trifle over-nice and somewhat particular, replied that what 
 I had said sounded very pretty, but that, for her part, she 
 liked to see the children tidy and clean when they came to 
 the table ; and as for their being angelic, and prepared to 
 assume the robes of which I spoke, she hoped it was so ; 
 but that, judging from the uproar they were then making, 
 it seemed to her more probable that they were preparing 
 themselves to put on robes just the opposite of those which 
 angels wear. 
 
 As this was the most severe language I had ever heard 
 my wife utter, I declared myself to be quite shocked, and, 
 as my train was about due, said I would not remain any 
 longer at a table where such sweet cherubs as were our 
 boys and girls were wanting. Then, hoping that Heaven 
 would give her a more amiable disposition before I came 
 back, I took my leave and departed. 
 
 I think the eclipse must have lasted, in the vicinity of 
 Woodbine Cottage, all day ; for when I came home, late 
 in the afternoon, I found the children very much more be 
 grimed with lampblack than they were at the breakfast- 
 table, still engaged in looking at the sun. My eldest boy 
 had erected an observatory in the garden, and had a tele 
 scope in active operation. He had made a good many pins, 
 he informed me, by letting his brothers and sisters look 
 through it, at five pins a sight. 
 
 For the benefit of little boys who might like to know 
 how to manufacture telescopes, I will state that it was con 
 structed mainly of a tin trumpet or horn and a piece of 
 smoked glass. He had made an unsuccessful attempt in
 
 124 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 the telescope line, I was informed by his mother, with the 
 glass chimney belonging to our evening lamp, but failed, 
 because he accidentally broke it. Miss Floy, too, com 
 plained that in his scientific operations he had purloined 
 her eye-glasses, and, in smoking them, had heedlessly 
 allowed the flame of the candle to play upon their tortoise- 
 shell rims, which had thereby been greatly damaged. 
 Wherefore she prayed that he might be punished. I said 
 he should be, and that she might inflict it. 
 
 " You may read aloud to him," I said, " a scene from 
 your new play ; but if you don t regard that as a sufficient 
 punishment, why, you can read to him two. And that, I 
 am certain, will be enough to deter him from ever again 
 robbing you of your glasses." 
 
 Thereupon Miss Floy became quite indignant, and gave 
 me to understand that she regarded me as a mean man. 
 She added, moreover, that my children, owing to my in 
 dulgence, were going to ruin, and that I was not fitted to 
 be a father. Solomon, she continued, knew a thing or two 
 about the management of children, which, if I were wise, 
 I would adopt. She despaired, though, of ever hearing me 
 speak or seeing me do other than acts of foolishness. 
 
 "Which sentence I pronounced ungrammatical, and said 
 that it was in keeping, however, with much of the language 
 to be found in the various acts of her play. 
 
 This provoked her past all bearing, and she retired to 
 her own apartment in great vexation of spirit, where she 
 had a good crying-spell, which calmed her, and enabled her 
 to come down to dinner in the most charming of gowns, 
 and as merry and cheery as a robin. 
 
 I do not suppose that anybody ever saw half such strange 
 things at an eclipse as my little ones did. By the aid of 
 the tin telescope the man in the moon was brought home, 
 as it were, to their very doors ; and as for spots on the sun, 
 they saw them so distinctly that they could almost have put 
 their fingers upon them. The littlest chap, who has n t cut
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 125 
 
 his teeth yet, and lives almost exclusively on milk-punch 
 and such like beverages, gave me to understand, in his 
 way, that he saw rather more than double, and counted 
 several moons and suns as big as his head and " so high." 
 
 After all, I think I was mistaken in saying that an eclipse 
 before breakfast is a nuisance. I did n t know, when I said 
 it, that it was going to last all day, and be such a source 
 of pleasure to the little folks. I even begin to wish nqw 
 that there could be an eclipse every day, though I suppose, 
 in that case, the children would not be as much delighted 
 with it as they now are, and that smoked glass and tin 
 . telescopes would soon be at a discount. 
 
 " Well, well," I said to my wife, after the little ones had 
 told me all they could about the eclipse, and how much 
 they had enjoyed it, " who would n t be a child again, and 
 find pleasure in eclipses and smoked glass ! " 
 
 " But they do get themselves terribly smutty," said my 
 wife. 
 
 " True ; but it will easily wash off/ I replied. " Now, I 
 saw men down in Wall Street and thereabouts, this fore 
 noon, who wouldn t have taken a smoked glass in their 
 hands, for fear of soiling their fingers, for a great deal ; 
 and yet, I tell you, those same men had blacker spots upon 
 their hearts and which can never be rubbed off than 
 they could have got upon their fingers if they had handled 
 all the smoked glass which has been used to-day." 
 
 " Well, what of it ? " asked Miss Floy. 
 
 " What of it ? " I echoed ; " why, really, nothing, except 
 that I d rather be like one of these little ones than one of 
 those bad men." 
 
 " Which desire, however laudable," said Miss Floy, 
 maliciously, " can never come to pass ; the longer you go 
 among those bad men the more like them, and the less 
 like these little ones, will you become." 
 
 And I think Miss Floy, for once, is correct
 
 126 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Family Shopping. Obliging your Neighbors. " Something." An 
 Elderly Female. An Innocent Orphan. A Monster. " Shame ! 
 Shame ! " A Blue-eyed Young Woman. Who 11 hold the Baby V 
 All Aboard. Tilly Slowboy. An empty Seat. My Friend Opposite. 
 " Banbury Cross." A Surprise. My Fat Old Lady. A resident 
 Mother-in-law. Smithers. 
 
 one lives in the country and goes to town every 
 day, but comes home, semi-occasionally, laden with 
 bundles. He is expected to do a great deal of 
 family shopping, and there is little unprocurable in the 
 country which he is not, at least, asked to procure in the 
 city. Some persons are always to be seen carrying baskets 
 which are empty in the morning and full at night. A black- 
 leather carpet-bag, however, is preferable, as it conveys the 
 impression to the uninitiated that you are travelling. To 
 be sure, there are many articles you are called upon to 
 obtain in town which you cannot get into a carpet-bag, or 
 even a basket, for that matter, and which you are obliged 
 to carry in your arms. For instance, I was asked, a short 
 time since, by a neighbor one who is perpetually tor 
 menting me to do this and obtain that for him in town 
 to bring out for his wife something which would be delivered 
 to me at the depot, so that I would have little trouble in 
 the matter except to take charge of it on the cars, and 
 that he would be at the station when the train arrived, to 
 relieve me of it there. This proceeding was so much more 
 considerate than was usual on his part that I promised, 
 unreservedly, to oblige him ; nor did I even inquire what 
 the " something " was which he desired me to bring to him.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 127 
 
 He said further that an elderly female, dressed in black, 
 whom I would find in the ladies sitting-room, would hand 
 it to me, and he hoped I would experience little trouble 
 with it. 
 
 When, therefore, I went, in the afternoon, to the depot, 
 and into the Indies sitting-room, I had no difficulty in dis 
 covering several elderly females, but none of them had the 
 bundle or package I was seeking for. I looked at each of 
 them successively, and was on the point of turning away 
 empty-handed, when the elderliest of the said elderlies, 
 dressed in the rustiest of black bombazines, rose from the 
 corner in which she was sitting, and, calling me by name, 
 asked if I had promised to take charge of a baby for Mr. 
 Smithers. As Smithers was the name of my neighbor, and 
 as this was evidently the elderly female of whom he spoke, 
 I felt satisfied that the " something " I had promised to take 
 charge of was the infant she carried in her arms. 
 
 With that quickness, however, which is characteristic of 
 the Grays, I immediately denied the soft impeachment, but 
 confessed that I did promise to take out a bundle for said 
 Smithers. Then it was that the elderly female displayed 
 her eloquence and diplomatic powers. 
 
 " Is it possible," she exclaimed, in the most tragic of 
 tones and manners, " that any one who pretends to be a 
 man, and is a father, would refuse to take charge, for little 
 more than half an hour, of a young and innocent orphan 
 babe, a girl at that, just recovering from a severe attack 
 of measles, especially when he had promised a good Chris 
 tian man, whose wife intends to adopt as her own this 
 sweet child, that he would do so without fail ? Such con 
 duct, I say, is atrocious, and I, for one, would only believe 
 savages capable of such an act. None but a monster would 
 be so cruel-hearted." 
 
 I endeavored to explain to the spectators assembled in 
 the sitting-room that when I promised to take something 
 to my neighbor I had no idea that it was to be a live baby,
 
 128 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 and that, if I had known it, I should, as I now did, most 
 certainly have declined obliging him. It was bad enough, 
 I said, to travel with one s own baby, even when you have 
 a nurse to attend to it ; but when a strange baby is cast 
 into your arms, it was simply abominable. Besides, I had 
 a bundle of my own to carry, which, as they could perceive, 
 was not inconsiderable in size, and which really required 
 all my attention. 
 
 Thereupon the half-dozen elderly females in black, and 
 the younger females in colors, therein assembled, cried, 
 u Shame ! shame ! " and my particularly elderly party ex 
 claimed, striking an attitude, and holding the infant aloft 
 as if she were going to dash it down upon the floor, unless 
 I would consent to take it, " Cruelty, thy name is man." 
 
 " Oh, as to that," I said, " I won t deny it ; but I 11 be 
 hanged if I 11 consent to carry that infant out to Fordham." 
 And I resolutely buttoned my coat up about the throat, and 
 turned toward the door. 
 
 Straightway the females surrounded me, and both young 
 and old, in their sweetest and softest spoken words, began 
 entreating me to reconsider my decision, and take that 
 innocent little babe to its expectant friends. One blue- 
 eyed maid said she would help me take care of it, and, as 
 she spoke, she smiled on me in a most captivating manner. 
 
 Now, if there s one thing more than another which I 
 cannot resist, it is a pair of blue eyes ; and when is added 
 to this a smile which would set a bachelor crazy, I feel very 
 much as if it were all up with me, and my only resource is 
 an honorable capitulation. I do not think, however, that, 
 in the present case, I should have given in had I not, 
 through some hocus-pocus operation of the elderly female, 
 found myself in actual possession of the baby, without 
 knowing how the change from her arms to mine had been 
 effected, and only, indeed, recognized the fact as incon 
 trovertible when I saw the aforesaid female disappearing 
 from my sight in the distance.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 129 
 
 I am not a man who thinks it undignified or who is 
 ashamed to carry a bundle or a basket ; but, I confess, I 
 did feel a trifle shy about entering the cars with that baby 
 in my arms. I tried to get the blue-eyed young woman to 
 carry her ; but she excused herself by saying that she was 
 not strong enough to do so. Just then, when I had fully 
 decided to make a virtue of necessity, I spied my savage 
 literary friend, to whom I called, and, stating the strange 
 position in which I was placed, requested him to hold the 
 infant for me a moment while I bought my ticket. 
 
 To my infinite regret he politely but firmly refused to 
 do so, and said he would buy a ticket for me. I afterward 
 tried to have several of my acquaintances take that baby, 
 but they invariably refused, to a man, and it was not until 
 the conductor shouted " All aboard ! " that I mustered 
 sufficient courage to enable me to enter the cars with that 
 orphan in my arms. 
 
 Of course, the seats in the forward cars were all occupied, 
 and I was obliged to pass through the entire train, until I 
 reached the last car, before I could obtain a seat. I did 
 not, I must acknowledge, attract as much attention, during 
 my promenade, as. I had anticipated. Not more than a 
 dozen persons gave any heed to me or my charge. Indeed, 
 I managed the matter so adroitly that I passed through 
 the first car without attracting a single observation. I 
 purposely carried the babe head downward, so that she 
 looked like a bundle of dry goods. I think this inversion 
 of the child produced a slight strangulation, which pre 
 vented her from crying aloud for a few minutes, but from 
 which she recovered when I was about half way through 
 the second car, and from there on, until the last car was 
 reached, she made the most insufferable noise of which a 
 child is capable. Perhaps I rather added to the intensity 
 of this outcry by allowing, a la Tilly Slowboy, that infant s 
 head to come in contact with the corners of sundry seats 
 and the sides of several doorways as I went along. The 
 9
 
 130 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 louder the child cried the more nervous I became, and by 
 the time I had found a vacant seat, I was completely ex 
 hausted, and felt exceedingly like sending my neighbor 
 Smithers and his wife, the elderly female in black, the 
 managers of the orphan asylum, and the poor little brat 
 herself, to that place where the chief employment is pre 
 sumed to be the gnashing of teeth. 
 
 Of course, the blue-eyed young woman deserted me long 
 before I reached my car, a nice young man having offered 
 her a place at his side when we passed through the first 
 car. So I found myself at last, with a big bundle and a 
 baby, unsupported by a friend, in one of the new style of 
 rail-cars, the seats of which, like those of the city horse- 
 cars, are opposite each other, and extend on each side its 
 entire length. To be sure, my savage literary friend sat 
 nearly opposite to me ; but he was apparently absorbed in 
 reading the " Evening Post," and paid no attention to the 
 signs I made for him to come across to me. I could see, 
 though, that he was watching me from over the top of the 
 paper, and every once in a while would hide his head be 
 hind it, while he indulged in a provoking laugh. Perhaps 
 he was laughing at something he was reading ; but as the 
 editorial page, which was before him, seldom contains a 
 humorous article, I was induced to believe that he was 
 laughing at me ; though why he should have done so I 
 can t imagine. He could n t have seen anything comical 
 about me. And if he, or any one else, thinks it s funny 
 to take care of a strange babe, who will persist in crying, 
 in a railroad car, I can only say he will find out his mistake 
 when he tries it. There are a good many annoyances con 
 nected with " tending baby," even under the most propi 
 tious circumstances ; but these are greatly aggravated when 
 you find yourself placed in the condition I was. 
 
 I will do the baby the credit of saying that, after I had 
 restored her to a proper position, and so long as I kept 
 her undergoing a severe treatment of jolting by riding her
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 131 
 
 on my knee to Banbury Cross, she refrained from crying ; 
 but the moment I stopped, she would recommence with 
 increased vigor. When the conductor came to collect the 
 tickets, I tried to get him to take the babe while I searched 
 my pockets for it. But he plumply refused, saying that he 
 was hired by the railroad company to run trains and not 
 to hold babies, and that he d be shot or something 
 worse if he d take her. Then I tried my neighbors 
 on each side of me ; but each said he did n t see it. So 
 I placed the baby, who immediately began to scream, on 
 the floor at my feet, and in doing so I somehow managed 
 to loosen the string which bound the bundle that lay on 
 my lap, and the contents of which it contained, I may 
 as well state, three hoop-skirts, which I had purchased for 
 Mrs. Gray, Miss Floy, and my eldest girl thereupon 
 spread themselves out, in a sudden and surprising manner, 
 in the very face of the unaccommodating conductor, re 
 minding him, doubtless, of the curious little boxes from 
 which, when the covers are loosened, grinning skeletons 
 jump forth. The astonishment of that conductor was 
 only equalled by my own dismay. The spring he made 
 backward was of the acrobatic kind, and the exclamation 
 he uttered savored more of profanity than religion. The 
 peal of laughter that ran around that car, too, was 
 not calculated to soothe my already disturbed feelings, 
 while the yells of the baby and the invectives of the con 
 ductor were about equally mingled. 
 
 I am a mild man, and can endure a great deal of vexa 
 tion without being disturbed in my temper ; but there is a 
 limit to my patience, and then I am inclined to be a trifle 
 wicked. The time had arrived when I was prepared to 
 make a dash at somebody ; but, fortunately, at that mo 
 ment, my good angel, in the shape of the fat old lady of 
 black-matan memory, made her appearance on the field 
 of action, and taking the babe, who instantly became quiet 
 under her touch, said she would take care of her until I
 
 132 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 arrived at Fordham. This was such a relief to me that I 
 instantly grew amiable, and gave the conductor to under 
 stand that I looked on the whole thing as a good joke, 
 which, if he was n t disposed to accept, he might leave 
 alone. So he said, " All right," and went on his way re 
 joicing. 
 
 Then I essayed to fold up the skirts in the compact 
 form in which they were when I received them from the 
 maker ; but although I tried with many crinks and twists 
 of the arms, I utterly failed to bring them under subjection. 
 I made up my mind, therefore, that there was a knack 
 about doing these things which could only be attained by 
 experience, and required the same skill to perform as goes 
 to make up a first-class prestidigitator. I snapped three 
 or four of the steel springs in my endeavors to accomplish 
 my purpose, and, after all, was obliged to give it up unsuc 
 cessful. In fact, my parcel, when I did get it together, 
 looked much like the upper half of an inflated balloon, 
 and bore no resemblance to the compact little package it 
 was when I entered the car. 
 
 I had no more trouble with the infant, thanks to my old 
 lady, until I reached the end of my journey, where, of 
 course, Mr. Smithers was not present to receive my charge. 
 The consequence was that I was obliged to carry that babe 
 home to the bosom of my own family, much to the surprise 
 of Mrs. Gray and my own vexation. 
 
 The reception with which a man meets when he carries 
 home a strange babe is not apt to be of the most flattering 
 description. He is viewed with a suspicious eye ; he is 
 obliged to answer a good many questions, and his replies 
 are not always regarded as perfectly reliable. This per 
 tains more especially to his reception if he be blessed 
 with a "resident mother-in-law. But as I was not thus 
 blessed, I will do Mrs. Gray the justice to state that she 
 received my account of the manner in which I received 
 the babe with great consideration ; and when Mr. Smithers
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 133 
 
 came for the child, which he soon did, she gave him to un 
 derstand that he need never expect me to perform any 
 similar service for him or Mrs. Smithers, as I was not to 
 be subjected to so great an annoyance. And I, for my 
 own part, told him that when I did another errand of any 
 kind for him in town, he would be likely to know it 
 And all that Smithers said in reply was, " Jest so."
 
 134 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 Indian Summer. A Sunday Morning. An Impromptu. Sunlight and 
 Shadow. Mrs. Gray s Ignorance. My Vanity. Indian Summer in 
 Town and out of Town. City Folks and Country Folks. In the 
 Woods, on Change, and up and down Broadway. Miserable Dinners. 
 
 are enjoying our Indian Summer just now at 
 Woodbine Cottage. It is of the most cheering 
 description. Never, within the memory of that 
 most respectable of mortals the oldest inhabitant, has more 
 delightful weather been known. A week ago the small 
 
 O O 
 
 boys of the village were skating on the ice in a field just 
 below my cottage, and now the weather is mild enough for 
 the same boys to pick, in the same lot, if they would grow 
 there, ripe strawberries. Words fail to render a just idea 
 of its lovely character. Balmy as June, it yet possesses the 
 freshness and invigorating qualities of October. It falls 
 across the skirts of the departing year like a gleam of sun 
 shine in a shady place. Xo wonder the poets have loved 
 to sing the praises of the Indian Summer, or the Indians 
 themselves regarded it as Nature s thanksgiving time. 
 Verily, it is the amen of the year, an outwardly ex 
 pressed sign from mother earth that her part, in the proper 
 carrying out of the obligations of the various seasons to 
 mankind, has been faithfully performed, and that the seeds 
 sown in her bosom have germinated and grown to matu 
 rity, and been gathered into the garners. The harvests 
 throughout the land have been plentiful. All the fruits of 
 the earth have repaid the husbandman many fold for his 
 labor, and it seems proper that Time should pause in his 
 course a little while, and let Nature sing Jubilate in this 
 touching and beautiful manner.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 135 
 
 I uttered these words, or some very similar in character, 
 to Mrs. Gray, as we were preparing for church one Sun 
 day morning. 
 
 " I declare, my dear," she said, " you are really growing 
 to be quite poetical in your language." 
 
 " Oh ! that s nothing," I replied. " Now listen. This, 
 I think, for an impromptu, is not bad : 
 
 Fair morn, that ushers in the day, 
 When heaven and earth are most in tune, 
 
 Thou art the Sabbath of the year, 
 A perfect day in perfect June. 
 
 No cloud shall o er thy sky appear, 
 
 Nor wind disturb thy quiet rest ; 
 But Peace, dovelike, shall o er thee brood, 
 
 And every hour be counted blest. 
 
 " And did you," asked the delighted woman, " write those 
 lines?" 
 
 " Certainly," I replied. 
 
 " And what prompted you, my dear," she asked, " to 
 write that impromptu, as you termed it ? " 
 
 " I was prompted thereto," I answered, " by a picture, 
 entitled ( Sunday Morning, painted by Durand, and which, 
 I believe, has been engraved and published. But I have 
 done something better than that, my dear, in the way of 
 verses descriptive of a picture." 
 
 " And, pray, what are they ? " my wife asked. 
 
 " Why, my lines on Bierstadt s Sunlight and Shadow. 
 Did you never see them ? " I asked. 
 
 Mrs. Gray having given me to understand that she 
 never had, though I am quite certain she had ; but she 
 likes, I find, occasionally, to minister to my vanity, I 
 thereupon read to her the following lines, entitled
 
 136 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 THE sunlight on the pavement falls, 
 
 And on the old tree s rugged trunk, 
 And up the church s ancient walls 
 
 It creeps, like prayer from holy monk. 
 
 Through waving boughs it softly floats 
 
 In glowing showers of radiant light, 
 And all the air with golden motes 
 
 Is warm and tremulous and bright. 
 
 The shadows, made by flickering leaves, 
 
 Dance daintily upon the earth, 
 And over all the silence weaves 
 
 A peace which seems of heavenly birth. 
 
 The old crone seated at the gate, 
 Bowed down with sin and years and woe, 
 
 Is typical of that estate 
 
 Where only shadows come and go. 
 
 But far within the sacred pile, 
 
 And clad in robes both rich and gay, 
 Kneels one whose heart is free from guile, 
 
 Who walks in sunshine every day. 
 
 The church, on which the ivy clings, 
 O ergrown with lichen and with mould, 
 
 To many a heart the memory brings 
 Of bells which chimed of bells which tolled 
 
 And these bells marked the lights and shades, 
 
 The joys and sorrows of our lives, 
 Which came alike to youths and maids, 
 
 To husbands and to wives. 
 
 But while on earth we still may stay, 
 
 And live the lives which God hath given, 
 
 Though shadows lie across our way, 
 The sunlight will be found in heaven. 
 
 When I finished, my wife declared that she had never
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 137 
 
 heard prettier verses, and she thought that it was entirely 
 owing to the Indian Summer and our living out of town 
 
 O O 
 
 that I was enabled to write them. 
 
 u Yes." I said. it is not improbable. At all events the 
 city is not the place wherein to enjoy the Indian Summer. 
 It is necessary to be in the country to fully appreciate it. 
 There, ; Where twinkles in the smoky light the waters of the 
 rill. and when, as you ramble along. The sound of drop 
 ping nuts is heard, though all the air is still, is the proper 
 place to be at this loveliest season of the year. Many must 
 content themselves, however, with the town at this period, 
 and deem it fortunate if at such time they can break loose 
 from the cares of life, and wander for a brief hour or two 
 in the Central Park. Xot that I ever performed this latter 
 feat when a denizen of the city, for, to tell the truth. I am 
 not partial to long walks ; but then it sounds very nicely 
 thus to write about it. Oh ! yes, Indian Summer in town 
 is, I assure you. my dear, quite different from the same 
 season in the country. And it is kept by country folk and 
 city folk very differently. The former get up in the morn 
 ing, and. after saying their prayers, look forth upon the 
 broad fields and the thick woods, all wrapped in the smoky 
 haze peculiar to the season, and knowing that their years 
 work is almost ended, and their crops gathered into the 
 barns, experience a comfortable glow about the heart, and 
 devote the dav to visiting among their neighbors, with 
 
 * O O ~ 
 
 whom they talk about the harvest and drink sweet cider 
 and eat apples. The old women sit in the sun, and knit 
 and gossip among themselves ; while the young ones, with 
 their lovers, hide themselves in warm and cosey nooks and 
 listen to tales of love. In the city men go about their 
 business as usual, and the bulls and bears on Change growl 
 at and hug each other as if it was n t Indian Summer ; and 
 though some individuals when they meet pronounce it to 
 be charming weather, almost too warm for overcoats, and 
 not a bad day for mint-juleps or sherry-cobblers, the majority
 
 138 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 of them don t care a button about it. Those dear creatures, 
 the ladies, however, really seem to enjoy it. They fill 
 Broadway from morning until night. They go up and 
 down its sidewalks like an army with banners, and make 
 severe raids on milliners , dressmakers , and dry-goods shop 
 keepers. They wear light silks and carry sunshades, and 
 leave off their furs, and take colds, and ices at Maillard s, 
 and do an infinite deal of unnecessary shopping ; and this 
 is about the way that country folk and city folk keep the 
 Indian Summer." 
 
 My eloquence so astounded Mrs. Gray, that she remained 
 for several minutes utterly incapable of saying a word, but 
 at last, taking up our collection of prayer-books, and mar 
 shalling the children in a kind of military order, she stated 
 that she was ready for church. 
 
 As we walked towards the sacred edifice it occurred to 
 me that possibly my wife, who had, in our days of city life, 
 been slightly up and down Broadway, might have taken 
 exceptions to the last portion of my remarks. Though I 
 saw no good reason for this, and consoled myself by think 
 ing that we were all miserable sinners.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A Birthday. Apples and Oranges. Several little Ones. A Learned 
 Dissertation. "All About It." Daniel Due. An Honest Man. 
 Dyeing. A few Rhymes. Due s Death. The Club adjourned. 
 
 Y clear," I said to Mrs. Gray, as I lighted the even 
 ing lamp in the library, " if you will permit me 
 to ring the bell for the maid to come and take 
 the children, we will have a meeting alone by ourselves of 
 our club this evening." 
 
 " Certainly, if you desire it," she replied ; " but I half- 
 promised them they might sit up this evening, and have 
 some apples and walnuts ; you know it is Mary s birth- 
 day." 
 
 " No ! I was not aware of it," I answered. " But if this 
 be the case, the little ones may, assuredly, be permitted to 
 remain up later than usual, and have their apples and nuts, 
 and join in the proceedings of the club. Let me see," I 
 added, thoughtfully ; " perhaps, after all, I did not forget 
 that this was an eventful day, and provided for it accord 
 ingly. Young Lemon-peel," I continued, addressing my little 
 boy, " suppose you go and examine my overcoat pockets, 
 and if you find anything in them, bring it to me." 
 
 The roguish ambassador departed upon his mission, his 
 eyes twinkling like stars, and his boots making a terrible 
 clatter on the floor of the hall. During his absence } " Little 
 Mary," I said, " tell me how old you are." 
 
 The little one, looking up into my face, answered : 
 
 " I m eight years old to-day, papa, and I think I ought 
 to have a present."
 
 140 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " You are a very old girl for your age," I continued ; 
 " don t you think so, mamma ? " 
 
 That estimable person only shook her head, as if to say 
 that, so far as she was concerned, she wished she were a 
 trifle older. I seated little Mary on my knee, and gave her 
 to understand that as soon as the ten-years-old chap in the 
 boots came back, the present she wished for would be 
 forthcoming. As he entered the room, " the baby " left me 
 to go and meet him. He had a small package of candies 
 in one hand, and his other hand and pockets were filled 
 with oranges, while a great doll was in his arms. Em., the 
 eldest of the flock, who had been sitting at her mother s 
 feet, reading aloud, at sight of the oranges, dropped her 
 book and sprang to assist her brother in bringing these 
 treasures to me. Between the trio s efforts, the oranges 
 were dropped and went rolling about the floor. Then 
 ensued a scramble for them, and as pater familias joined 
 in, he succeeded in obtaining the lion s share. 
 
 " How very dignified you appear, Mr. Gray," exclaimed 
 my wife, "prone on the floor. Suppose visitors should 
 come in ! " 
 
 " Well, what then ? " I asked, recovering, however, my 
 erect position. 
 
 " Nothing," she replied. 
 
 " Oh ! " I answered. 
 
 It was, perhaps, well that this episode ended thus quickly 
 and quietly, for little Mary was anxious to see her doll, and 
 the other children were eager to put their teeth into the 
 oranges, and, though the latter proved to be sour, they 
 were none the less enjoyed. 
 
 " Oranges, my dear," I remarked, while the children 
 were enjoying their collation, " are essentially a tropical 
 fruit." 
 
 " Indeed ! " interrupted Mrs. Gray ; " I always thought 
 they grew in the Arctic regions." 
 
 "The orange-tree, {Citrus aurantium,)" I continued,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 141 
 
 giving no heed to Mrs. Gray s remark, " is to be found in 
 profusion in nearly all of the warm climates of Europe, 
 Northern Africa, and many parts of Asia and America. 
 This orange " taking one into my hand came, prob 
 ably, from one of the Southern States, Alabama, per 
 haps, where our good friends, the authors of Souvenirs 
 of Travel and Beulah, reside." 
 
 Mrs. Gray thereupon regarded the said orange with 
 great interest, as if she thought it might possibly speak a 
 word or two regarding these lady friends. 
 
 " The islands of the Azores are famed for producing a 
 fine variety. Did you ever see an orange orchard ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 Mrs. Gray never had. 
 
 " Nor have I," I continued ; " but some time or other 
 we will take a trip southward and look upon the orange- 
 trees, and taste their fruit in its excellence." 
 
 " You have seen the orange-tree, I suppose," said Mrs. 
 Gray, " growing in greenhouses ? " 
 
 I had. 
 
 " So have I," exclaimed Em., who had, with the others, 
 been standing open-eyed and open-mouthed around us. 
 " I ve seen them : their leaves are green and glossy, and 
 their flowers white and pretty ; their perfume is very sweet, 
 too, and sometimes it almost makes me faint away. 
 Grandma s tree used often to have flowers, and green 
 oranges, and pale yellow ones, and those of a deep orange 
 shade, all at the same time. I used to think it was a very 
 nice sight, and I wondered why peaches and apples, and 
 other fruits of the North, did n t grow so. Why don t they, 
 papa ? " 
 
 And, with this question for me to answer, Miss Em. 
 seized another orange, and stood before me sucking its 
 juice, while awaiting my reply. 
 
 Not being able to answer the question, however, I said : 
 
 " My little girl, I gave to you, a short time since, a book
 
 142 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 called All About It ; or, The History and Mystery of 
 Common Things. Now, I think if you will get that book 
 to-morrow, probably you will be able to find in it the 
 reason." 
 
 She promised to do so, and then, as it was nine o clock, 
 and " the baby" exhibited unmistakable symptoms of sleepi 
 ness, my wife rung the bell for the maid, who bore the 
 little folks away to their cribs and couches. 
 
 After they had gone, Mrs. Gray and myself turned over 
 the pages of many books, both large and small, including 
 the " All About It " book, without learning from any of 
 them the reason why the orange and lemon bear flowers 
 and fruit at the same time, and peaches and apples do 
 not. 
 
 " My dear," at last I said, " we will not puzzle our brains 
 any more about it." 
 
 " But I am dying to know, my dear," she exclaimed. 
 
 " That, somehow, reminds me," I answered, " of Daniel 
 Due, a very honest man whom I once knew, and who, 
 meeting with an accident one day, shortly afterward took 
 to dyeing." 
 
 " Did it kill him, Mr. Gray ? " she asked. 
 
 " What," I rejoined, " the accident, or the one day, 
 or the dyeing ? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " she replied ; " did he die, Mr. Gray ? " 
 
 " No, thank fortune ! " I answered ; " he never dyed 
 Mr. Gray." 
 
 " Gracious ! " she ejaculated, " what a foolish man you 
 are. Did he die himself, my dear ? " 
 
 " Often, my love, often," I answered, " at least, so far 
 as his hands and arms were concerned." 
 
 " Then only his hands and arms died ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, yes, other things, too," I replied. 
 
 " His legs, perhaps ? " suggested Mrs. Gray, ironically. 
 
 " Well, I am not sure about them," I answered, " but I 
 think it probable."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 143 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said my wife, sitting up in her chair like a 
 judge, " did you see this man Due die ? " 
 
 " Several times, my love," I answered ; " and he dyed 
 very well." 
 
 " Died very well, did he ? he must have been hung, then," 
 she added, savagely ; " for when people die in their beds 
 they usually are very ill." 
 
 " But he is n t dead yet," I said. 
 
 Mrs. Gray was dumb with astonishment. 
 
 " Listen," I continued, " while I relate the story of, and 
 explain the mystery regarding 
 
 "HONEST DANIEL DUE." 
 
 HE was a very honest man, 
 
 None honester, though saint or sinner ; 
 His name was Daniel Due, but Dan 
 
 We called him, when t was time for dinner. 
 He worked on shares my father s farm 
 
 For thirty years, nor pay demanded, 
 Until he broke his favorite arm, 
 
 His left one, for he was left-handed. 
 
 And then he said he must retire 
 
 Prom active life, so took to dyeing ; 
 But first my father paid his hire, 
 
 Which long had been on interest lying. 
 Six thousand dollars, I believe, 
 
 And something more, his wages came to ; 
 At first this sum he d not receive, 
 
 And no receipt would sign his name to. 
 
 J T were deuced hard, he said, if he 
 
 Must do a thing that seemed like stealing; 
 He did n t see how it could be ; 
 
 T were very much like double-dealing ; 
 It did n t have an honest look, 
 
 Six thousand dollars was a " stunner ; " 
 He guessed t would buy up Sandy Hook, 
 
 And every ship and every gunner. 
 
 T was long before he would give in, 
 And take the money that was due him ;
 
 144 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 At last my father raised a din, 
 
 And vowed most fervently he d sue him. 
 
 The money he should have t was his, 
 And he for years had worked to win it ; 
 
 Cried Dan, " Now, squire, your dander s riz, 
 And this here Dan is goin to shin it. 
 
 " I never have been sued," he said, 
 
 " And I ve been, boy and man together, 
 Just thirtj years a-breaking bread, 
 
 Through summer and through winter weather ; 
 And honest bread it was and good, 
 
 And you know, squire, the one as made it, 
 The very pink of womanhood, 
 
 Though she s your wife, now I have said it." 
 
 And then he stood and scratched his head, 
 
 And opened wide his eyes in wonder ; 
 At last he cried, " Just shoot me dead, 
 
 If I hain t got a plan by thunder ! 
 We 11 compromise the matter, squire ; 
 
 I 11 take six hundred you, what s over; 
 Then I 11 have just my honest hire, 
 
 And on it I can live in clover." 
 
 A happy man was Daniel Due ; 
 
 He thought he d put it mighty clever, 
 But father knew a trick or two, 
 
 And said, " Dan, you 11 our friendship sever, 
 Unless you 11 take your money now; 
 
 Another " nay " from you, and never 
 Will I recognize you by bow 
 
 Or word from this time on forever." 
 
 So Dan, more frightened fur than hurt, 
 
 Took up the gold, and went to dyeing, 
 And now he wears a colored shirt, 
 
 And goes about the village crying, 
 From door to door, that he will dye 
 
 On such a day, if Heaven be willing ; 
 He 11 do it too, before your eye, 
 
 And for the sum of one small shilling. 
 
 When Dan comes near my father s place, 
 I tell you there is some confusion,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 145 
 
 Danger is written on each face, 
 
 For Daniel has one strange delusion, 
 And thinks he only can repay 
 
 My father for his honest action, 
 By taking all our clothes away, 
 
 To dye them to his satisfaction. 
 
 No matter what the garments be, 
 
 If Dan but gets them they are "his n; " 
 And when those clothes again you see, 
 
 You think that Joseph s coat has risen. 
 The shirts are often dyed pea-green, 
 
 The pantaloons are red or golden ; 
 And silken robes, of wondrous sheen, 
 
 To every color are beholden. 
 
 But Dan will live and he will dye 
 
 As long as dyeing holds in fashion, 
 An honest man who scorns a lie, 
 
 And never gets into a passion. 
 And when, at last, he comes to die, 
 
 Attended by a good physician, 
 His soul will float across the sky, 
 
 And into heaven s bright elysian. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Gray, as I concluded my recital, 
 " I understand it clearly now the dyeing and all that." 
 
 " And now, my dear," I remarked, " this concludes an 
 other meeting of our club around the evening lamp, and 
 a very pleasant evening it has been. And now, with your 
 permission, my love, we will adjourn sine die ! " 
 
 " You have my permission, Mr. Gray." And straight 
 way we adjourned. 
 
 10
 
 J46 OUT OF TOWN 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 An Old-fashioned Thanksgiving Day. A Fast Day ; how to keep it. 
 A Thanksgiving-Dinner. Boasted Pig. A Serious Misfortune. 
 Bierstadt, the Artist; his unnatural Inclinations; why he paints Fine 
 Pictures. Ice-water vs. Wine. After-dinner Verses. Arrival of 
 Midnight and Miss Floy." 
 
 [HALL I ever live," I asked Mrs. Gray, as we drew 
 our chairs up before the blazing wood-fire, the 
 other night, " to see an old-fashioned Thanksgiv 
 ing Day, such an one as I knew in my grandmother s 
 time, when, having eaten just as much as I could of 
 chicken-pie and turkey, with lots of vegetables, and heard 
 my respected grandfather repeat, as he always did on such 
 occasions, by way of a grace between the meat and the 
 pudding, these quaint lines : 
 
 A turkey boiled is a turkey spoiled ; 
 
 A turkey roast is a turkey lost ; 
 
 But for a turkey brazed the Lord be praised. 
 
 1 still had room enough in my slender corporation for 
 many magnificent slices of mince, pumpkin, and apple-pie, 
 saucers of real calves -feet jelly, none of your gelatine 
 innovations, apples, raisins, and walnuts, all washed 
 down with a glass of generous old port wine, given to me, 
 at my last gasping extremity, by my over-indulgent grand 
 parents ? I ask, shall I ever see such a day again ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray replied that she thought I never would. 
 
 " Not but that I am thankful enough in my heart," I 
 continued, not heeding her interruption, " and sometimes 
 go to church on these occasions, and eat a good enough 
 dinner ; but the spirit of the thing is gone. I cannot get
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 147 
 
 up the proper degree of enthusiasm or appetite. Some 
 how, Thanksgiving Day seems a little passe ; and I relish 
 a fast day, which does not come quite as often, much 
 more." 
 
 Thereupon Mrs. Gray said that she did not believe it. 
 
 " This clothing myself in sackcloth," I went on, paying 
 no attention to my wife s remark, " and casting ashes upon 
 my head, is a novelty for me, and wonderfully pleasing to 
 the children, who admire to see me do it. Then, as to 
 the matter of fasting ! it is a very good thing ; and though 
 I get wonderfully hungry at about my usual dinner-time, I 
 manage to stick it out for an hour or two longer, when tell 
 ing you, my dear, that I will go out and take a walk to 
 carry off the edge of my appetite, I incontinently make a 
 straight line for the nearest restaurant, where I indulge in 
 an expensive course of oysters, raw, fried, stewed, and 
 roasted, and frequent mugs of Aster ale. I discovered, 
 too, one day, that notwithstanding my precepts and exam 
 ple in the house, when I went out to take my walk, you had 
 a habit of sending to the same restaurant I frequented for 
 a hundred oysters for yourself and children, though I never 
 could discover any signs, when I returned home, of you or 
 they having partaken of such fast-day alleviators." 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Gray emphatically denied that she had 
 ever condescended to adopt so miserable a piece of decep 
 tion ; but that she was not surprised to learn that I had 
 been guilty of such deceit. 
 
 " What I wish to speak of," I continued, making no re 
 ply to my wife s last remark, " is Thanksgiving Day, and 
 especially the thanksgiving-dinner, which should, after the 
 first requisite in any dinner, namely, quality, recommend 
 itself to those seated around the mahogany by its quantity. 
 There should be enough and to spare of everything, and 
 everybody on this occasion should eat as much, and per 
 haps the children especially a little more, than they 
 want. In addition to the oysters, soup, fish, turkey, chick-
 
 148 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 en-pie, vegetables innumerable, and pastry and dessert un- 
 limitable, there should unquestionably be a roasted pig, 
 one which would have delighted even Charley Lamb, a 
 young, succulent, and crisply-cooked morsel, innocent of 
 the sty, and stuffed with sweet smelling and savory herbs. 
 Do you remember, my dear," I asked, " last Thanksgiving 
 Day," and how we kept it at Mansfield Place ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray said that she did. 
 
 " But you do not remember," I continued, " because you 
 never knew it, of the serious disappointment I met with 
 on that day." 
 
 My wife looked up inquiringly. 
 
 " I had been drinking a bottle of choice wine," I said, 
 " with a ruby -nosed friend who duly appreciated it, but 
 who unfortunately had an engagement, as he expressed it, 
 with an early dinner/ I don t think he cared a dime 
 for the giver of it, and was obliged to leave without 
 giving me an opportunity to open another bottle." 
 
 " Which I am very glad to learn," interrupted Mrs. 
 Gray. 
 
 " But for which I was sorry," I replied. " So, while I 
 sat mourning over my sad fate, that of having no one 
 for whom to open my second bottle, I heard the door 
 bell ring, and exclaimed, Heaven fortunately has sent 
 another mouth to moisten with wine. I will be thankful 
 this day. But when I saw who it was, my cup was 
 dashed, unfilled, to the ground. For Bierstadt, who trav 
 elled overland to San Francisco, dwelt a week or two 
 among the Mormons, clambered up the Rocky Mountains, 
 slept what to ordinary mortals would have been rheumatic 
 slumbers on the bleak sides of Mount Shasta, wandered 
 foot-sore and weary through the Yo-Semite Valley, and 
 lived years in Dusseldorf, among tuns of lager-beer and 
 clouds of tobacco-smoke, scarcely knows the taste of 
 liquor, and has never smoked a pipe in his life. The 
 moment, therefore, I heard his pleasant voice, I knew
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 149 
 
 that I would have to close my little wine-shop, and betake 
 myself to that beverage which was found in Eden before 
 Eve pressed cider from the apple. The first thing the 
 man asked for, as I knew he would, was ice-water. Ice- 
 water on Thanksgiving Day ! the coldest day, too, of the 
 season ; and when, from my windows, I could see in the 
 open lot, opposite the house, the boys skating on a little 
 pond that winters there. Heaven forgive the man, I say, 
 his unnatural inclinations. I tried to persuade him, in my 
 smoothest tones, to forego, on this occasion, his favorite 
 beverage, and quaff with me the amber-tinted wine. He 
 said that would sound very well in poetry, and that wine 
 was a nice thing to look at, and sip occasionally at a wed 
 ding ; but for a steady drink he thought water preferable. 
 Thereupon, I had the bottle, tall and graceful in form, and 
 the delicately thin glasses, removed, and a double-walled 
 ice-pitcher, with the figure of a polar bear on its top, filled 
 with ice-water, and a stout goblet accompanying it, inhos 
 pitably placed before my guest. He drank copious liba 
 tions, and declared it better than the wine of any vintage. 
 Perhaps, after all, my dear, he is correct. I doubt if the 
 grand pictures, full of power and broad effect, of 
 snow-clad mountains, deep and fertile valleys, bounding 
 torrents and water-falls, broad lakes and flowing rivers, 
 primeval forests, and rocks, such as that which the sacred 
 writer had in his mind when he said, The shadow of a 
 great rock in a weary land, which Bierstadt now turns 
 yearly from his easel, could be painted by him if he 
 clouded his clear brain with even the choicest vintages the 
 world has known. The ice-water proved so great a temp 
 tation, that he dined with us for the sake of obtaining 
 another glass of it" 
 
 " And was the refusal of our artist friend," asked my 
 wife, " to partake of wine with you, the serious disappoint 
 ment on that day to which you refer ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered ; " but I never bore him any ill-will 
 on that account. 1
 
 150 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " "Well, that was kind in you, I confess," said my wife, in 
 a slightly ironical tone. 
 
 " I think it was," I replied ; " but never mind. Did n t 
 we have roasted pig that day for dinner, my dear ? " 
 
 " No," she answered ; " it was on the Thanksgiving Day 
 of the previous year. Don t you remember that you wrote 
 a poem in praise of roasted pig, which you recited at the 
 table, where several artists and other friends were present ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," I replied ; and my wife expressing a desire 
 to hear again the lines in question, I turned to my writing- 
 desk, and taking from one of its pigeon-holes a few sheets 
 of paper, read aloud to her the following 
 
 AFTER-DINNER VERSES. 
 
 THE curtain rises with unusual grace, 
 
 And shows a dining-room in Mansfield Place. 
 
 The hour past seven, as any one may see, 
 
 Who 11 look upon the clock, and not at me. 
 
 The persons present need my tongue reveal 
 
 The names of those my Muse would fain conceal ? 
 
 Yes, did I hear ? then be it so, my friend, 
 
 I 11 introduce them all before I end. 
 
 But, in the first place, I ve a tale to tell 
 
 About a pig whose tail curled very well, 
 
 A tender suckling, guiltless of all sties, 
 
 His mother s pride, the darling of her eyes ; 
 
 The loudest squeaker mong her little ones, 
 
 The Benjamin of all her many sons, 
 
 Torn from his mother s lactage-giving breast, 
 
 Where, not two moons ago, he first found rest, 
 
 By rude hands he was hurried to the slaughter, 
 
 And murdered just to please the butcher s daughter. 
 
 Stuck in the throat his end, indeed, was bitter, 
 
 But t was the end of all his mother s litter ; 
 
 That sort of death, prefaced by no disease, 
 
 Runs through her family with perfect ease. 
 
 This little pig, as every one must know, 
 
 Was country -bred, the butcher told me so, 
 
 And butchers, as a class, all speak the truth, 
 
 Unless they learned to lie in early youth. 
 
 My confidence in him is clearly shown,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 151 
 
 By buying sausages of him alone. 
 
 I m thankful though, the question does not lie 
 
 Between the bloody butcher-man and I ; 
 
 Another chap, a youth of eighteen years, 
 
 With a white apron and uncommon ears, 
 
 Warts on his fingers, grease upon his hair, 
 
 And witli a rowdy, semi-Bowery air, 
 
 Told me the fellow who had sold the pig 
 
 Unto the butcher was a perfect prig, 
 
 And, knowing him to be more knave than clown, 
 
 Believed the pig was stol n from " Nestledown." 
 
 Alas ! that such a sweet, young pig should die ! 
 
 His bones lie here ; his shadow none can spy ; 
 
 His cheerful squeal, dried up and put away, 
 
 Will serve, perhaps, another pig some day. 
 
 What of his flesh ? The larger part doth rest 
 
 In peace and safety under Gifford s vest. 
 
 The cracklings soft ! a lady s in the case, 
 
 She s had her share, I read it in her face ; 
 
 Of dressing, stuffing, call it what you will, 
 
 The long-haired Beard-ed man has had his fill. 
 
 Then Wheeler round, and none of you will fail 
 
 To see the wretch who robbed me of the tail, 
 
 That lovely caudal, curled, and crisp, and red, 
 
 Once full of life, but now extremely dead. 
 
 His little ears, of dainty pink within, 
 
 Which never listened to a word of sin, 
 
 Were just the bits to give the gentle maid 
 
 Who on my left sits tastefully arrayed. 
 
 And of the ribs those covering the heart 
 
 This maiden s mother had a matron s part. 
 
 Then there s the gravy who but marked with pain, 
 
 The many times I asked for some in vain 1 
 
 Who heard not all the pleading words I spake, 
 
 Imploring gravy for my stomach s sake ? 
 
 Composed the gravy, not the thing which aches 
 
 When unripe fruit, or cucumbers, one takes 
 
 With dexterous skill and culinary care, 
 
 Of liver, heart, and other tidbits rare, 
 
 Next to the brain, which he who got required, 
 
 The sauce is by most epicures desired. 
 
 Ought any wife among you give a guest 
 
 That which she knew her husband liked the best ? 
 
 Wedlock forbid ! Then why keep back from me
 
 152 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Those spoonfuls which mine gave to McEntee. 
 
 Who got the feet, and who the head did gain, 
 
 Are questions which my muse will ask in vain ; 
 
 That wreck, that skeleton of youthful pork, 
 
 Torn, cut, and mangled by the knife and fork, 
 
 Alone remains to claim a pitying tear, 
 
 From the old cook, who 11 drown her grief in beer. 
 
 Nipped in the bud, plucked off like unripe fruit, 
 
 Torn from the earth ere he had learned to root, 
 
 The little pig no more his squeak shall raise, 
 
 Nor scamper after straws in wild amaze ; 
 
 No more shall kink his lovely tail in air, 
 
 Nor think his bristles very pretty hair ; 
 
 Cock his bright eyes up at the noonday sun, 
 
 Prick up his ears and nimbly frisk and run. 
 
 No more partake, his hunger ne er appeased, 
 
 Of various meals just when and how he pleased, 
 
 But having, haply, given up the ghost, 
 
 Part of his flesh was Cotfin-ed by your host ; 
 
 The rest, partaken with no sense of fear, 
 
 May prove to you a nightmare souvenir, 
 
 Unless you follow this advice of mine, 
 
 To drink the pig s repose in sparkling wine. 
 
 And so, occupied with many pleasant reminiscences of 
 by-gone Thanksgiving times, did my wife and I, before the 
 blazing hearth, sit and chat until midnight and Miss Floy 
 who had been scribbling in her own room came in 
 together.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Edwin Booth as Hamlet. In the Library. A Smoky Scent and a 
 Lemony Perfume. Chartreuse. A Thimbleful. Jolly Monks. 
 " The Lover s Appeal." The Game of Billiards. Berger. His Mar 
 vellous Feats. Another Player, Pierre Carme. 
 
 E had been to town to see Edwin Booth in " Hamlet," 
 and, returning by a late train, did not reach Wood- 
 bine Cottage until long after midnight, yet neither 
 Mrs. Gray nor myself were disposed to sleep. We sat in 
 the library, before the grate, the dying embers in which I 
 was stirring into something like life with the poker ; while 
 Mrs. Gray was turning over the pages of " Shakspeare." 
 A small copper kettle, on the smouldering coals, seemed to 
 be singing its very life away, and losing itself behind a 
 cloud of steam that issued from its nozzle. A smoky scent 
 and a lemony perfume filled the apartment. A storm was 
 brewing without, but something better was brewing within. 
 I was thinking of the wassail-bowls of olden times, of the 
 flagons of Flemish beer, of the nectar of Jove, of the sack 
 that Falstaff quaffed, of the Lachryma Christi which princes 
 drank, of the thimbleful of Doppel Kiimmel I tasted on 
 board of the Russian flag-ship last season, and of that 
 precious liqueur Chartreuse, of which even I have often 
 sipped. 
 
 " It is certainly very excellent," I uttered. 
 
 " Excellent ! " echoed Mrs. Gray ; " he -is wonderful." 
 
 " I don t know its superior," I said. 
 
 " Its ! " exclaimed Mrs. Gray ; " he, you mean ; " and she 
 glanced suspiciously at the contents of my glass. 
 
 " No, my dear, I responded ; " I prefer the neuter to the 
 masculine gender in this case."
 
 154 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " You are wrong, so far as grammar is concerned, Mr. 
 Gray," she replied ; " but if you will indulge in these ob 
 noxious punches I ought not to expect anything more 
 grammatical from you. I shall, no doubt, be addressed, 
 by-and-by, as it, or by some term quite as inappro 
 priate." 
 
 " Mrs. Gray," I exclaimed, " you astonish me ; of what 
 or whom, pray, were you speaking ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Booth s personation of Hamlet, of course." 
 
 " Oh ! " I said, " I thought it was of something else." 
 
 " What something else ? " she asked. 
 
 " Chartreuse," I answered. 
 
 " And what is Chartreuse ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Guess," I said. 
 
 Now, nothing annoys my estimable spouse more than 
 being requested to guess at a matter of which she possesses 
 no knowledge. It almost invariably has the effect of caus 
 ing her either to leave the room in an abrupt manner, or 
 else to effectually close her lips for fifteen minutes. In the 
 present instance, however, thinking she might possibly be 
 correct, she responded, after a brief pause, " Why, it is, I 
 presume, somewhat of the nature of a charlotte-russe, at 
 all events, it sounds similarly." 
 
 " Wrong, my dear," I said, " but ingeniously answered ; 
 Chartreuse is a liqueur made in the Alps, from various 
 herbs which grow just below the boundary where vegetation 
 ceases and snow and ice commence. There are three 
 kinds, of which the best is amber-hued, oily, and possessing 
 a delicious perfume. It is usually sipped after dinner, and 
 follows the coffee. A thimbleful is sufficient. It is made 
 by the monks who dwell at Chartreuse." 
 
 " For my part," remarked Mrs. Gray, " I think the monks 
 might be better employed." 
 
 " You would not say so, my dear," I replied, " if you had 
 tasted it. Some day, when my ships come home, I will 
 bring you a flask of it, and though at first you may not
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 15* 
 
 receive it with favor, for, after all, the taste for it is an 
 acquired one, you will, in a brief time, deem it a most 
 delicious beverage." 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said my wife, " I do not think I care to 
 taste Chartreuse. You like it because it is, probably, an 
 expensive liqueur, and not because you really relish it. 
 You have a penchant, I think, for all kinds of viands that 
 are costly and rare." 
 
 " This, doubtless, was the reason," I said, " why I pre 
 ferred you, my dear, to the many other charming beings 
 who, in the days of my bachelorhood, crossed my path." 
 
 " I would I could believe it, Mr. Gray," she replied ; 
 " but how often have you addressed any love-poem to 
 me like those you used to write to the Fannies and the 
 Annies, and the little Southern maids of your boyhood s 
 days ? " 
 
 " Not often," I responded ; " but ask yourself if, after all. 
 such sentimental tokens of regard can be placed in the 
 balance to outweigh those words of love I uttered at the 
 chancel-rails ? No ! a thousand times no ! my dear, I 
 know you will answer." 
 
 " You are certainly very kind to reply for me," my wife 
 said, " and I will not say but that you are correct ; still I 
 would like to have you address some verses to me, on the 
 anniversary of our marriage, such as you did on my last 
 birthday." 
 
 " Suppose," I replied, " I write a Christmas carol for 
 you, in which I praise your beauty and virtues ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray assumed an injured air, and turned over the 
 leaves of her book, without replying. After a pause, during 
 which I sipped the contents of my goblet, I added : 
 
 " The truth is, that the verses I wrote to my early 
 charmers were flippant, foolish, and unworthy of being 
 addressed to my wife. For instance," I continued, turning 
 to my scrap-book, and taking therefrom the following lines, 
 entitled
 
 156 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 THE LOVER S APPEAL. 
 
 I LOVE thee ! and my heart is proudly ringing 
 
 The endless changes of these words to-day, 
 "While round my pathway Hope is gayly singing 
 
 The music which befits a wedding-lay. 
 The clouds of sorrow which above me floated, 
 
 Trailing their sable robes before my sight, 
 In thy sweet presence, silently, unnoted, 
 
 Have vanished, and bright day succeeded night. 
 
 I love thee ! T is no weak or foolish dreaming, 
 
 The passing fancy of an idle hour ; 
 But like the sunshine, full from heaven streaming, 
 
 In all its noontide glory, pomp, and power, 
 It fills my being with a deep devotion 
 
 Which only those who truly love can know, 
 And, as the moon affects the tides of ocean, 
 
 So causest thou my love to ebb and flow. 
 
 I love thee ! and my thoughts are fondly turning 
 
 To when within thy presence I was brought, 
 And, all unconscious, happily was learning 
 
 A lesson which in Eden first was taught. 
 That blessed hour with many a joyous vision, 
 
 Most happy dreams, fond hopes and pure desires, 
 Within my memory s bright and fair elysian 
 
 Is lighted now by love s warm, quenchless fires. 
 
 I love thee ! Do not, dear one, I implore thee, 
 
 Turn from my words disdainfully away, 
 Nor doubt my truth when saying, I adore thee, 
 
 And shall as long as reason holds its sway. 
 My heart, with all its deep and true affection, 
 
 I lay confidingly upon thy shrine ; 
 Accept it, and through life the recollection 
 
 Shall be to thee a joy almost divine. 
 
 " That is not so bad," my wife said, " and I only wish 
 you would address as pleasing ones to me. Your passion 
 ate pleadings, though, I presume, had no effect on the 
 young lady addressed ? " 
 
 " Well, I don t know about that," I replied. " The truth 
 is, I met you shortly after I sent them, and well, I
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 157 
 
 did n t follow up any advantage I may have gained there 
 by, nor pressed my suit as I would otherwise have done." 
 
 " Which, doubtless, you have since regretted ? " my wife 
 said inquiringly. 
 
 " No," I replied, slowly, uttering my words as if I were 
 considering the matter. " I am not certain that I regret 
 it in the least. If you, now," I said, speaking more briskly 
 and decisively, " had turned away from me, I might have 
 regretted the course affairs took, and taken to billiards or 
 some other disreputable games." 
 
 " Is billiards a disreputable game ? " asked my wife. " I 
 was under the impression that it was of an innocent char 
 acter." 
 
 " Oh," I replied, " one of the newspapers has recently 
 discovered that it is entirely unworthy of a gentleman s 
 attention. Though, when I witnessed Monsieur Berger s 
 playing a few years ago, I thought there was poetry in 
 billiards." 
 
 " And who, pray," asked my wife, " is Monsieur Ber- 
 ger?" 
 
 " Monsieur Berger," I replied, " is a Frenchman, a 
 native of Lyons, and a man of considerable weight, doubt 
 less, in his own country, as indeed he is in this, since he 
 weighs or did, when in this country about three hun 
 dred pounds. Of course, his figure is rotund, and seems 
 like an immense billiard ball, crowned with a smaller one, 
 which represents his head. He is quite bald ; his eyes are 
 small, black, and sparkling ; his mouth large, and his coun 
 tenance, when in repose, uninteresting ; but when he is 
 speaking, or engaged in his favorite game, it lights up with 
 a smile that attracts and rivets attention. There is, doubt 
 less, much humor in his composition ; and that he is kind 
 and generous in disposition, his career here fully proved 
 He regards the ivory balls, with which he plays, almost as 
 a father does his children, addressing them by pet names 
 and terms of endearment, as they move, seemingly en-
 
 158 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 dowed with life, here and there, at his bidding. What 
 Morphy is in the world of chess, that is Berger in the 
 realm of billiards, king, emperor, czar over all competi 
 tors. Marvellous, ay, almost miraculous, is his play ; and 
 yet, though every one sees how it is done, none are able to 
 follow it. He causes the balls to accomplish wonderful 
 feats. At his bidding, and simply at the touch of his cue, 
 they run along the elevated edge of the table ; they move 
 half-way across the table, and then return to the point 
 from whence they started; they gather together in one 
 corner ; they revolve around a hat ; they leap into a hat, 
 and perform other strange and curious feats." 
 
 " Have you seen all this, Mr. Gray ? " asked my wife, in 
 credulously. 
 
 " I have, my dear, and more," I replied. 
 
 " When ? " she demanded. 
 
 " You remember, perhaps, the afternoon I left you at the 
 door of your cousin s house in Tenth Street, saying I would 
 return in ten minutes ? " 
 
 " I should think I ought to, Mr. Gray," said my wife, 
 somewhat reproachfully ; " for you kept me waiting from 
 five o clock till ten in the evening, before you returned. I 
 am not apt to forget such acts of impoliteness, even after 
 the lapse of years." 
 
 " But I apologized to you, my dear, for my dilatoriness, 
 I remember," I said. 
 
 " Apologized ! You only told me you met a friend who 
 asked you to dine with him, and you went. I don t regard 
 that as an apology." 
 
 " Well, never mind about it now, my dear," I said ; " it s 
 long since past, and, I trust, forgiven. At any rate, that 
 night I met Berger. I dined at a French restaurant with 
 Gignoux, the artist. The great billiard-player also dined 
 there ; and after dinner, which was an hour and a half 
 long, and consisted of ten courses, first, soup ; second, 
 fish "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 159 
 
 " Never mind about the courses, Mr. Gray," interrupted 
 my wife ; " tell me about Berger." 
 
 " Well, after dinner," I repeated, " I was introduced to 
 Berger. His hand was as soft and plump as a woman s, 
 my dear, and he wore a ring on the middle finger of his 
 left hand, a diamond, set around with blue stones : what 
 do you call them ? " 
 
 " Turquoise, I presume you mean," replied Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " Yes, I think you re correct. Well," I continued, " al 
 though Berger spoke scarcely a word of English, and my 
 knowledge of French is not very extensive, we managed 
 to hold a brief conversation together, by the help of Gig- 
 noux, who stood near. Afterward, we went to Phelan s 
 room, and saw Berger play a game of billiards with one 
 of our best American players, Phelan himself, who made, 
 however, but thirty-three points to Berger s one hundred. 
 Now, what do you think of that, my dear ? " 
 
 " As I am unacquainted with the game, my opinion 
 would be worth nothing," she answered ; " but if you will 
 explain it to me, I shall be perhaps better able to answer." 
 
 " Billiards, my dear," I said, taking a position before the 
 fire, on the rug, from which I had retired when the ten- 
 minute business came up, " billiards," I repeated, impres 
 sively, " is an ingenious kind of game, invented, I believe, 
 by a Frenchman, and played on a rectangular table, with 
 white and red ivory balls, which are driven by a cue, a 
 stout stick, five or six feet in length. This instrument the 
 player holds in his right hand, resting it over the left, sup 
 ported by the forefinger and thumb. The table on which 
 the game is played is about twelve feet long and six wide, 
 or, rather, in the exact form of an oblong. The bed of the 
 table is generally of marble or slate, covered with fine 
 green cloth, and the edge surrounded with elastic cushions, 
 to prevent the balls rolling off and to make them rebound. 
 There are six holes, or pockets. These are affixed to the 
 four corners and midway of the table, opposite to each
 
 1GO OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 other, to receive the balls in playing. The Frenchman s 
 table, however, which he brought with him, was with 
 out these pockets, the disuse of which makes the game 
 more scientific and difficult to play. Indeed, Berger s 
 game, on his own table, was as much superior to the game 
 as usually played in this country as the American game is 
 to the schoolboy s game of marbles. Still the American 
 game has its votaries, and there are those who believe that 
 the great Frenchman would be conquered if he played the 
 usual game of the country and on American tables. Ber 
 ger s table, I think, was larger than those used in this 
 country." 
 
 " But you have not yet described to me the game itself. 
 I know no more what constitutes the playing and winning 
 of the game than if you had not spoken a word about it. 
 Do you play it, Mr. Gray ? " 
 
 " I confess that I do not. My education in that respect 
 has been sadly neglected, so that it is little wonder I can 
 not make the game clear to your understanding." 
 
 " Well, no matter," replied the amiable woman. " I 
 have at least been interested in what you have told me 
 respecting this wonderful player, and his powers." 
 
 " Since Berger was here, another celebrated French 
 player has visited us. His name is Pierre Carme," I said ; 
 " and though he failed to play with Kavanagh, a celebrated 
 American player, yet he is probably an equal in the game 
 to Berger himself. And now, my dear, as the fire is get 
 ting low, and the voice of my pet chanticleer warns me 
 that daylight is approaching, I think we had better retire, 
 and endeavor to get a few hours sleep." 
 
 And we retired.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A Rainy Sunday. An Equinoctial Storm. Van der Palm. A Com 
 fortable Feeling. Gathering my Harvest. A Biblical Reference. A 
 Catalogue. Gold-diggers vs. Potato-diggers. A Doubter. Thomas. 
 A Barrel of Ale. Aleing. How to open a Barrel of Ale. A lively 
 Mood. Breaking a Commandment. " Ha ! ha ! " October s Brew- 
 age. 
 
 was a rainy Sunday. One of the half-dozen 
 equinoctial storms that always come in the 
 autumn was raging. The wind was stripping 
 the leaves from the trees in the most summary manner. 
 The russet, golden, and scarlet robes which the forest had 
 worn were being torn into shreds and patches, and scat 
 tered broadcast over the land. Only the woodbine cling 
 ing to the veranda in front of my cottage retained its green 
 leaves, and even a sprig or two of fresh blossoms scented 
 the air. The " melancholy days " had indeed come ; and 
 though out-of-doors it was sad enough, within nothing 
 could be more cheerful. The fire blazed on the hearth ; 
 Mrs. Gray was reading a sermon by Van der Palm, an 
 erudite old Dutchman, who was born a hundred years ago 
 in Rotterdam, and who afterward became a professor in 
 the University of Leyden, and was greatly esteemed for 
 his piety and learning ; and the children were variously 
 engaged in reading, roasting chestnuts, and the Biblical 
 play of Noah s Ark. I, in a somewhat contemplative 
 mood, stood at the window gazing upon the dreary land 
 scape, and contrasting the without with the within. 
 
 The feeling I possessed was a very comfortable one, for 
 I knew that my crops were safely housed ; that there was 
 11
 
 162 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 a barrel of ale in my cellar ; several tons of coal and cords 
 of wood in my woodshed ; and a happy household under 
 my roof-tree. 
 
 " In regard to getting in my crops and opening my bar 
 rel of ale, I desire," I said to Mrs. Gray, " to say a few 
 words." 
 
 My wife gave me to understand that I might say as 
 many as I liked. 
 
 " I think I told you," I said, " that I remained at home 
 yesterday expressly to gather my harvest. I am happy to 
 say, my dear, that I fully accomplished it. In the morn 
 ing, after reading the papers of the day, I proceeded to 
 take a view of the garden. I walked around it several 
 times, and took an accurate memorandum of its contents. 
 Then I came into the house, and drank a glass of ale and 
 cut a pie, for I was alike thirsty and possessed of a good 
 appetite. Then I added up in my memorandum-book the 
 entire quantity of vegetables to be harvested. And what 
 do you think was the result ? " 
 
 " I am certain," Mrs. Gray replied, " I cannot tell ; but 
 I suppose no large quantity, for I notice our barns are not 
 bursting with plenty, neither are our presses running over 
 with new wine." 
 
 Now, as we have only one small shed, and not a barn, 
 on the premises, and as all the presses we possess are the 
 few contained in the house, and which are termed clothes- 
 presses, this Biblical reference did not strike me as being 
 particularly applicable. But I said nothing in reply there 
 to, and contented myself with reading aloud from my note 
 book as follows : 
 
 14 heads of white cabbages. 
 
 3 " red 
 
 6 dozen ears of sweet corn. 
 
 4 " " " pop " " for the children. 
 8 " " yellow " for the fowls. 
 
 2 pecks of onions. 
 10 large pumpkins.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 168 
 
 17 small pumpkins 
 
 4 bushels of turnips. 
 15 " potatoes. 
 
 1 quart of nasturtiums. 
 
 1 peck green tomatoes for pickling. 
 
 2 bushels of carrots. 
 1 bushel of parsnips. 
 
 1 " beets, and 
 
 5 bunches of grapes, slightly frostbitten. 
 
 " Not a bad show," I said, " for less than an acre of 
 ground, and considering, too, that we have gathered 
 through the summer many vegetables for our table, not, 
 of course, enumerated in this catalogue." 
 
 " It certainly sounds very largely," said my wife, " and 
 I only trust it will turn out as well." 
 
 " It has," I said ; " every article therein enumerated is 
 already garnered, and, if there be any difference, it is that 
 some of the quantities overrun my estimate. Yester 
 day afternoon, although you may not be aware of it, I 
 worked like a farmer. I literally gained my bread by the 
 sweat of my brow. Gold-diggers may know pleasure in 
 their occupation, and grave-diggers may even find a kind 
 of sad amusement in their business ; but I doubt very 
 much if any one ever took any delight in digging potatoes. 
 It gives one an awful crick in the back ; and then the pro 
 cess of stooping down to pick them up after they are dug, 
 is very much, to my thinking, like what warping the spinal 
 column over a low fire would be. I confess I would much 
 rather lose all my potatoes than have the same labor to go 
 over again." 
 
 " But I thought," said my wife, " that Michael dug the 
 potatoes, and that you did little more than direct him in 
 his operations. I am sure you passed the greater part of 
 the afternoon in the house." 
 
 " Oh, there you are greatly mistaken," I said ; " for I am 
 quite certain that, with the exception of the little time I 
 was with my savage literary friend, I was digging potato V
 
 164 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " Well, as you went to your friend s," said the matter-of- 
 fact woman, " at about one o clock, and did n t return 
 home until nearly five o clock, it certainly appears to me 
 that you could have given little attention to getting in 
 your vegetables." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! " I replied ; " by-and-by, perhaps, you 11 
 question the fact of my having got in any vegetables at 
 all." 
 
 " Well, the truth is," she answered, " I shall be in doubt 
 in the matter until I see them." 
 
 Perhaps," I said, somewhat vexed, " you would like to 
 put your fingers upon the potatoes and taste of the cab 
 bages before you will believe. And perhaps, too," I con 
 tinued, " you will doubt whether I have a barrel of ale in 
 the cellar ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, " for of it I have tasted." 
 
 " And a very good reason it is for believing," I answered. 
 " But if you had assisted in opening it, you would have 
 received much more positive proof of its presence." 
 
 Mrs. Gray simply said " ah ? " interrogatively, and com 
 menced laughing. 
 
 u October ale, my dear," I continued, not heeding her 
 laughter, " when it is new, is exceedingly lively, and in 
 tapping a barrel of it, you should be lively yourself. I had 
 much trouble, as you are aware, in getting that barrel into 
 the cellar. I think I was two hours about it. Then I 
 waited two days for it to settle before tapping it. I should 
 not have opened it then, but that you said you would like 
 a glass of it at lunch. I was just ready to go to the city, 
 but, having five minutes to spare, I consented to employ 
 that time in tapping the ale. I afterward wished I had 
 not ; for, when I attempted to insert the wooden faucet 
 into the barrel by driving in the spigot, whether the cun 
 ning of my hand gave out, or whether past successes in 
 this line begat carelessness on my part, I cannot tell ; but, 
 although the plug went in, the faucet somehow refused to
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 165 
 
 follow, and the jolly ale, finding a vent, came flying out in 
 the liveliest of moods, knocking the faucet out of my hand, 
 and pouring itself in a foaming stream over the cellar 
 floor. I tried to stop it by placing my hand over the hole, 
 but with little success ; for the ale forced its way through 
 my fingers, spirting in many streams over me, and blind 
 ing me with its spray. The lighted candle, which the 
 gloom of the cellar made it necessary for me to carry, was 
 put out, and I was left in comparative darkness. My po 
 sition was an unpleasant one, and what to do puzzled me 
 sadly. If I took my hand off of the vent to grope in the 
 dark for the faucet, I should lose all my ale, and to remain 
 in the position I was much longer, was but doing little 
 better. I endeavored, by shouting, to make myself heard 
 above stairs ; but, whether the baby cried so loudly as to 
 prevent you from hearing me, or what it was, I do not 
 know ; but, at all events, I failed in bringing to my aid any 
 assistance. I endured this position of affairs patiently for 
 a few minutes longer, hoping for the best, until I heard 
 the whistle of the approaching train which was to have 
 carried me to town; then, rendered desperate, I wished 
 the ale in Jericho, and taking my hand from the vent, went 
 up-stairs, leaving the ale to flow in peace. The result was 
 that I lost a half-barrel of ale, ruined my clothes, missed 
 my train, and broke what was worse than all into a 
 great many pieces the Third Commandment. I don t know- 
 that I should have broken it as extensively as I did, if you 
 and Miss Floy had not laughed at me so provokingly when 
 I made my appearance and told you what had happened." 
 
 " It was too bad," said my wife ; " but you did, look so 
 funny. Your hair and whiskers were covered with foam, 
 and your clothes were dripping wet. You seemed half- 
 drowned, and a more beery-appearing individual I never 
 beheld. I have to laugh every time I think of it." 
 
 And my wife " he ! he d ! " in a miserable little way, 
 which was even then exceedingly provoking. I said noth-
 
 166 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 ing, however, but stood quietly at the window and gazed 
 upon the wet and dreary landscape. 
 
 When Mrs. Gray had exhausted her risible efforts, she 
 asked me how I managed to save half a barrel of the 
 ale. 
 
 " Because," I said, " the barrel of ale the Taylors sent 
 fortunately came in two half-barrels, and, as I only tapped 
 one of them on that occasion, the other remained full." 
 
 " And you were more careful, I presume," she remarked, 
 " when you came to open that than you were when open 
 ing the first." 
 
 " I was. And now, my dear, if you have no objection," 
 I said, " I will draw a pitcher of October s brewage, pure 
 and creamy, fragrant of hops and malt new made, and we 
 will together drink thereof." 
 
 And we drank. 
 
 Later in the day, when it had ceased raining, and a dim, 
 gray mist lay softly upon the earth, wrapping the landscape 
 in its chilly folds, I took a walk down to the Bronx. A 
 thin veil hung over the water, and the trees bordering its 
 banks loomed spectrally through the fog, their slender 
 limbs bare of leaves, and their trunks moist and slimy. 
 Everything bore an ashen hue, save where the earth, 
 showing through the wet and rotting leaves, appeared 
 brown and dingy. Not a sound arose to break the silence 
 of the scene, and the very water of the stream lay under 
 the fog with a sense of weight, as it were, upon its bosom. 
 All the scene was one of gloom, and I thought that nature 
 had indeed spread her pall upon the earth for the dying 
 year to rest herself under. The landscape oppressed me 
 with sadness, and I was glad to return to the warmth and 
 light of my cottage.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 Evacuation Day in Town. The Twenty -fourth and the Twenty -fifth. The 
 Veterans of 1812. How my little ones celebrated the Day. Raising 
 the Flag. Muskets and Swords. A War-horse. A New Recruit. 
 Her Banner. A Scramble. High Pay. Rations. Drafted Boys. 
 Tin Drums. A March. Disbanding. A Girl s Tea-party. A Boy s 
 Circus. A private Box. The Eighty-second Anniversary. 
 
 ;Y little ones celebrated, in an appropriate manner, 
 at Woodbine Cottage, Evacuation Day. There 
 was a slight confusion in their minds as to the 
 proper day whereon to celebrate it. This arose, doubtless, 
 from the fact that the commanding general in town, who 
 had an engagement to attend an afternoon tea-party on 
 the twenty-fifth instant, which he wished to keep, had, in 
 consequence, ordered his soldiers to celebrate the day on 
 the twenty-fourth. My young folks had become acquainted 
 with this circumstance through the newspapers ; and, as 
 they believe everything that they read in the papers, they 
 naturally supposed that the latter was the proper day, and 
 that I was mistaken in proclaiming the former to be the 
 right one. When my savage literary friend, who had been 
 a captain, or something of that kind, in the old Sixty-ninth 
 Regiment, assured them that the twenty-fifth was the day, 
 they agreed to accept it as such, and duly keep it. 
 
 It was with pleasure I observed that the Veterans of 
 1812 also kept, with music and flying colors, the proper 
 day in town. That handful of graybeards, some with old 
 regimental cocked hats and epaulets, others in citizens 
 attire, as they marched down Broadway that pleasant after 
 noon, was a sight worth beholding. As they moved along,
 
 1C8 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 two by two, to the inspiriting sounds of the drum and fife, 
 they seemed to have renewed their youth ; and, scorning 
 the usual support of their canes, they shouldered them, as 
 they did their muskets fifty years ago, and, with brisk 
 steps, marched gallantly along. There was no tottering 
 nor feebleness apparent in their movements ; the bent 
 backs were straightened ; the dim eyes regained their 
 brightness ; and the wrinkles of age were smoothed upon 
 their faces, while the spirit and courage of brave soldiers 
 shone on their countenances. Some of these veterans were 
 close on to a hundred years of age, and, though I believe 
 none of them had seen service in the Revolutionary War, 
 yet a few of them had lived in those days, and had fathers 
 and brothers in its battles. 
 
 The sight of these veterans reminded me of a poem, 
 written by my friend Seyton May, on the occasion of some 
 of the soldiers of 1812 visiting Washington city, on Jan 
 uary 8th, 1855, to celebrate the anniversary of the battle 
 of New Orleans. As I walked along the crowded street, 
 after they had passed, I repeated to myself the following 
 verses of the poem : 
 
 " March on ! ye are not old to-day ! 
 The lofty music s cheering sound 
 The echo of the past hath found ! 
 Ye are not old to-day ! 
 
 " Yon banner in your line is old, 
 T is torn and faded pierced by balls ; 
 It waves and all your youth recalls 
 And so ye are not old ! 
 
 " But yesterday your step was slow, 
 But yesterday each form was bowed ; 
 To-day, of well-won victories proud, 
 Ready again for war ! " 
 
 When I told my little ones, on my return home, that I 
 had seen these brave old soldiers, they grew quite excited, 
 and said that I ought to have taken them into town, that
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 169 
 
 they, also, might have seen them. They would have pre 
 ferred it to going to Barnum s Museum, where I had prom 
 ised to take them, Saturday afternoon. They proceeded 
 to tell me how they had celebrated the day, and, as I am 
 writing this chapter especially for the entertainment of 
 small readers, I think I can do no better than give the 
 account as nearly as possible in the language of the little 
 boy who related it. 
 
 " You know, papa," he said, " that the first thing I did 
 this morning, when I got up, was to raise the flag on the 
 staff down at the foot of the garden, and the next thing was 
 to eat my breakfast. After breakfast, I got Em. and Sis 
 to assemble round the flag-staff, where I drilled them with 
 muskets and swords, only we did n t have muskets and 
 swords, you know, but just canes and such kind of arms. 
 Em. had your charter-oak cane that the good old soldier, 
 who died at Hillside, left you, and Sis had the gold-headed 
 one, made from Old Ironsides. I was the general, and 
 so I had a sword, not a real one, but just the carving- 
 knife, not the best one, but the other one ; and, then, what 
 do you think I got ? " 
 
 " Why, I think," I replied, " that you got a whipping 
 from the cook." 
 
 " No, I did n t, though," he answered ; " and I d just like 
 to see her try to give me a whipping that s all. No ; I 
 got the goat and made a war-horse of her ; and, I tell you, 
 \ she was gay. It was just as much as I could do to keep 
 on her she danced and jumped about so. TVe marched 
 in procession up to Mr. Jack s, and there we got a new 
 recruit, Florry. She carried a flag made out of a silk 
 apron, and she forgot to take some chestnuts out of the 
 pocket ; so, when she unfurled it, and the wind waved it 
 about, they all fell out upon the ground, and then we broke 
 ranks, and scrambled for them." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Em., " and you and the goat got the 
 most."
 
 170 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " That s so," said the boy, " and generals ought always 
 to have the most. They get more pay than privates, you 
 know." 
 
 " But the goat was n t a general, was she ? " asked Em. 
 
 " No, not exactly," he answered ; " but never mind talk 
 ing about that now. Papa don t care anything about what 
 the goat did ; he wants to know what we did. Don t you, 
 papa ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " I am much interested in your account 
 of the day s proceedings." 
 
 " Well, after we got Florry," he continued, " we marched 
 down again to the house, where I dismounted, and went 
 and got some rations, hard tack, you know, and cheese. 
 Then I drafted a couple of little boys who came along, and 
 made em drummers." 
 
 "Yes," said Em., "and you d better tell pa what they 
 did." 
 
 " Oh, hush ! do, now. If you keep talking so much, I 
 shall never get through." 
 
 " But what did your drummers do ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, nothing much ; they just drummed, that s all," he 
 replied. 
 
 " Yes," said Em., " and they drummed holes in the bot 
 toms of two tin pails. That s what they did." 
 
 " Oh, they were old pails, papa," the boy said ; " they 
 were n t good for much. Em. is all the while telling every 
 thing. Ma said she did n t care " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Em., " what a story." 
 
 " Much," added the little rascal. 
 
 " It is very improper," I said, " to drum holes into the 
 bottoms of tin pails, very improper, indeed. Tin pails 
 cost money, and I can t afford to have them destroyed in 
 that way," I said. 
 
 " Well, you see, papa, they did n t mean to do it but 
 the pails had poor bottoms. They ought to have been 
 strong enough to stand a little beating on Evacuation 
 Day."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 171 
 
 " Well, well," I said, " I suppose I will have to over 
 look it." 
 
 The boy gazed at his sister triumphantly. 
 
 " After we d eaten our rations, we marched up the hill ; 
 and then we marched down again. And then we hurrahed 
 
 O 
 
 ever so many times. And then the goat ran away with 
 me, and Gumbo ran after the goat, and I fell off ; and the 
 dog and the goat had a fight, and Gumbo whipped Nan ; 
 and then we disbanded, and came into the house. And I 
 cracked some nuts, and Em. had a tea-party ; but she 
 would n t invite me to it, so I had a circus out in the barn, 
 and I guess I did n t ask her to come to it." 
 
 " That was not right," I said ; " Em. should have asked 
 you to her party, and you should have been kind enough 
 to have invited her to attend your circus." 
 
 " Papa," said Em., " I would have asked him, but he 
 said he did n t want to go to a girl s party. And I am 
 sure I did n t care about his coming ; for he always wants 
 to drink the tea out of the teapot, and pocket all the sugar 
 from the sugar-bowl, and eat the butter off of the plate." 
 
 "You have such a little bit on the table," said the 
 naughty boy, " that, when I am hungry, all of it don t seem 
 but a mouthful. But I m going to have another circus 
 next Saturday, papa, and then, if Em. wants to come to it, 
 she can. She can sit in the private box all day, if she 
 likes, and see me stand on my head." 
 
 " You don t mean to say that you intend to stand on 
 your head all day ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, no ; only a minute or two at a time, you know," he 
 answered ; " but she can sit in the box all day if she wants 
 to, and watch me when I do it." 
 
 " Now, papa," said Em., " will you tell me what Evac 
 uation Day is for ? for I am sure I don t know." 
 
 " Evacuation Day, my little ones," I said, " is so called 
 because, on this day, eighty-two years ago, the British 
 troops evacuated or marched out of the city of New York,
 
 172 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 of which they had possession, and the American troops 
 marched in. Since then, every year, with few exceptions, 
 the day has been appropriately celebrated. If you will 
 read your " History of the Revolutionary War," you will 
 find the account fully recorded. And now, my children, 
 we will go to dinner.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Birthday Dinners. the Pilgrim Fathers. Yankee, Southern, Indian, 
 Puritan, and Cavalier Blood. Mary Morey. Pies and Puddings. 
 The Tenth of December. A Second Centenary. A Golden Wedding. 
 Indian Cruelty. Blind-Mnn s-Buff. Asleep. Arrival of Visitors. 
 
 ELL, my dear," I said, as I lighted the lamp in 
 the library, " no crowned head in all Europe has 
 had a better dinner this day than I ; and I even 
 doubt if one of the descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers 
 those individuals who are supposed to do their utmost in 
 the way of eating on Thanksgiving Day will rise from the 
 table to-morrow, more satisfied with his meal, or better 
 filled than I now am. Still, I would not have you to un 
 derstand, my dear, that I do not feel called on to do my 
 best day s eating on Thanksgiving Day, though I regard it 
 simply as preparatory a getting the house into order, as 
 it were for that greatest of all feasts, a Christmas dinner. 
 You, Mrs. Gray, who have the blood, not only of the hero 
 of Bennington. but of one of the noblest of Virginian fam 
 ilies, in your veins, can easily understand why I, of Indian, 
 Puritan, and Cavalier descent, should readily accept and 
 celebrate, not only Thanksgiving Day and Christmas, but 
 such festal days as nearly as I can learn when they oc 
 curred which the original inhabitants of our country were 
 wont to celebrate." 
 
 " This is first time, Mr. Gray," said my wife, " I ever 
 heard that you were part Indian, though I have always 
 thought your complexion was tawny. When, pray, did you 
 learn this interesting fact ? " 
 
 " Oh, years ago, my dear," I replied ; " if you will turn
 
 174 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 to the registry in the old family Bible the large one in 
 the corner of the room you may read, in the handwriting 
 of one of my respected progenitors, a marriage between an 
 Indian woman, whose baptismal name was Mary Morey, 
 and Ilezekiah Gardner, which took place December 20th, 
 1665. Unfortunately, the place where it occurred, and the 
 name of the officiating minister, are not recorded. It must 
 have taken place, however, in the Province of Massa 
 chusetts, and the bride probably belonged to the Narra- 
 gansetts. For aught that I know, she may have been a 
 daughter of Massasoit, and, consequently, a princess. If 
 so, I should have met the Prince of Wales, when here, 
 upon more equal ground than I did. Had I thought of 
 it in time, I should have claimed the right of our little 
 daughter whose birthday dinner we have just assisted 
 at to open the ball at the Academy of Music with the 
 youthful prince." 
 
 " Now, my dear," interposed my matter-of-fact wife, " you 
 speak ridiculously. For my part, I am very thankful that 
 birthday dinners do not come every day. I think hereafter 
 I will not use brandy in the mince-pies, nor put wine into 
 the pudding-sauce. You partake too largely of both, and 
 the liquor in them seems to affect you, making you talk 
 nonsense." 
 
 " A capital idea, Mrs. Gray," I replied ; " the pie and the 
 pudding will be the better for the children without these 
 additions ; and as for me, I prefer my liquors plain, without 
 being united with pastry or sauce." 
 
 " I fear, Mr. Gray," she answered, " that you are incor 
 rigible, and that it will be better, after all, for me to have 
 the pies and pudding-sauce as I now do." 
 
 " If you suit yourself, my love, in this matter," I said, 
 " you may be assured of its pleasing me." 
 
 Mrs. Gray simply smiled. 
 
 " The dinner," I added, " was really admirable, and if the 
 one on the twentieth of December be equal to it, I shall be 
 perfectly satisfied."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 175 
 
 " Why," asked Mrs. Gray, " do you name the twentieth 
 of December ? " 
 
 " Because," I replied, " it is the second centennial anni 
 versary of the Indian marriage referred to a few minutes 
 ago." 
 
 " And do you think, Mr. Gray," she inquired, " that it 
 is worth our while to celebrate that event at this distant 
 day?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I replied. 
 
 " Why, what have we to do with it ? " she asked. 
 
 We may not have a great deal to do with it ; but individ 
 ually, my love," I said, " I, being a lineal descendant of 
 that couple, am probably indebted to them for existence. 
 I have, of course, no desire to celebrate the anniversary of 
 their marriage every year, and would do so now only be 
 cause it will be the two hundredth anniversary. Just think 
 of it for a moment, my dear ! It is better than a golden 
 wedding in one s family." 
 
 " Suppose, then, we term it," suggested Mrs. Gray, " a 
 copper wedding ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Gray," I uttered, in a measured tone, as I rose 
 from my chair and took my favorite place on the rug before 
 the grate, " Mrs. Gray," I repeated, " if you wish to af 
 front me, you may call it a copper wedding." 
 
 And I jingled half-a-dozen pennies within my pocket. 
 
 " Why, the truth, notwithstanding your remark, Mrs. 
 Gray, is, that a more noble, ingenuous, and faithful race 
 than the Indian never run its course on the globe." 
 
 " I have been told, on the contrary," she said, " that they 
 were cruel, vindictive, and treacherous ; that they had 
 rather meet an enemy than a friend : as in the former case 
 they could exercise the natural propensity that led them 
 to delight in bloodshedding ; while in the latter event oc 
 curring, they could enjoy only a moderate degree of pleasure 
 in the smoking of a pipe of peace. A human being s scalp 
 was more prized by them than a costly gift of furs or rarest 
 plumes."
 
 176 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " Wrong, my dear," I answered, " all wrong. As nature 
 made him, before the white man invaded his hunting- 
 grounds, there was no truer being on the earth than the 
 Indian. As primitive in his habits and simple in his 
 desires as our first parents before the fall ; courageous as 
 a lion and docile as a lamb, as occasion demanded, he was, 
 in many respects, a better man than any of the followers 
 of Columbus when they landed on the shores of this Con 
 tinent." 
 
 " Very well spoken, Mr. Gray," said my wife, approvingly ; 
 " I like to see men stand up for their kin, even if they be 
 Indians. It shows if you will excuse the expression 
 pluck." 
 
 " Well," my wife added, after a pause, " as the repetition 
 of this dinner will not occur in a hundred years, and as 
 neither you nor I will be here to partake of it at that time, 
 I will consent to your celebrating the anniversary on the 
 twentieth instant." 
 
 " Thank you," I replied ; " and if you will only let it be 
 equal to Em. s birthday one, it will be worthy of the occasion. 
 And now, little ones," I continued, turning to the children, 
 who were playing at " making visits," in a corner of the 
 room, " what do you say to a game of blind-man s-buff? " 
 
 Of course they were all delighted with the suggestion, 
 and Em., the eldest of the three, immediately bound her 
 eyes with a handkerchief, and proclaimed herself to be the 
 blind man. Then ensued a half-hour s play, during which 
 time paterfamilias was blinded with the exception of 
 one eye more than once, and succeeded in catching Miss 
 Em. several times, though she hid behind fire-screens, and 
 crept under chairs, to avoid him. The lad in boots, and 
 the eight-years old girl, were like crickets, chirping and 
 jumping about the floor. Finally, the boy rolled himself 
 up in the carpet-rug and went to sleep ; little Mary climbed 
 into her mother s lap, and, nestling her head amidst rich 
 laces, also went off into dream-land ; only Em. and myself
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 177 
 
 were left to keep up the game, which was brought to a 
 close by the entrance of my savage literary friend who 
 came to pass the evening with us. 
 
 Then the maid appeared, who carried the children away 
 to the nursery ; and as they vanished, I said softly to Mrs. 
 Gray, " The meeting of the club for the evening is ended." 
 
 11
 
 1/8 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day ; its Origin ; its Elasticity. The Puritans ; their De 
 scendants. The Christian Church. The Day in New England and 
 New York. A Cruel Hoax. Home ! Our Poor Brother. Our 
 Neighbor, the Widow. 
 
 HANKS GIVING Day, my dear," I said to my 
 wife, as I went into the library from the Thanks 
 giving dinner-table, " like Christmas, as the old 
 song has it, comes but once a year." 
 
 " I don t know about that," answered Mrs. Gray. " I 
 think I remember of celebrating two or three Thanksgiv 
 ing days in one November, not many years ago. The 
 Governors of the several States of New York, Massa 
 chusetts, and Connecticut each appointed a different day ; 
 and it was my good fortune, Mr. Gray, to keep it in each 
 of those States." 
 
 " That may all have been, my dear," I replied ; " but 
 the fact as to there being but one Thanksgiving Day 
 a year, except under extraordinary circumstances, still, 
 in my opinion, is incontrovertible. Each State has 
 been accustomed to keeping it but once a year; and 
 though every one might have selected a different day, 
 yet the rule as to there being but one Thanksgiving 
 Day still holds good. Again, you might assert, with the 
 greatest truthfulness, that every day in the year is a 
 Thanksgiving Day ; and I am certain you, my dear, should 
 be thankful every day you live that you have so good a 
 husband as I am, even as I am thankful that I have so 
 good a wife as you." 
 
 My wife smiled, and drew her chair a little nearer to 
 where I was sitting.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 179 
 
 " Like Christmas, too," I continued, " it is a day of 
 prayer and feasting. Originating in New England, where 
 it was instituted by the Puritans, at a time when the festi 
 val of Christmas was by them not only neglected but act 
 ually denounced, it answered a widely felt requirement. It 
 was the single holiday of the year, the sole really en 
 joyable day, out of three hundred and sixty-five, that the 
 May-Flower Pilgrims and their descendants had to look 
 forward to, and enjoy when it came, as a national holiday. 
 Still it was little more hedged around as it was by puri 
 tanic customs and blue laws than a Sabbath day dove 
 tailed into the working-time life of the colonists, possess 
 ing in a slight degree an India rubber-like capacity, that 
 allowed it to contain the few innocent pleasures which were 
 denied to them on all other occasions. Little by little, 
 however, as the strictness of the Puritans character dis 
 solved before the more genial nature of their descendants, 
 rural delights and worldly amusements the apple-bee, 
 the husking, the candy frolic, the quilting-party, the sleigh- 
 ride, and even the theatre and the ball-room, with their 
 separate enticements crept in among the sacred offices 
 of the day, and increased its popularity and the welcome 
 accorded to it. Nearly, if not all, of the States in the 
 Union, now celebrate, with due observance, this excellent 
 and peculiar New England festival." 
 
 " My dear," my wife said, as I paused to take breath, 
 " you talk quite like a book." 
 
 " While the Christian Church throughout the world," I 
 continued, not heeding her interruption, " and in all ages, 
 has never been without some festal anniversary, a day 
 not chosen from the Sabbath, but selected from the work 
 ing-time, and set apart for purposes of praise and thanks 
 giving, the Puritans of New England, Pilgrim Fathers, 
 as they are reverently and lovingly termed, were, until the 
 appointment of Thanksgiving among them, possessed of no 
 holy festival. In the Protestant-Episcopal and in the Ho-
 
 180 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 man Catholic Churches, such festivals are of frequent oc 
 currence. The Christian Year, commencing at the season 
 of Advent, has its calendar thickly studded with similar 
 festivals commemorative of God s gracious protection of, 
 and his goodness as displayed in his bounty to, man. Al 
 though to these Churches, therefore, the observance of 
 Thanksgiving might be deemed unnecessary, yet it is, I 
 rejoice to perceive, as duly celebrated and as dearly prized 
 by them as by other Christian sects. It is in New Eng 
 land, however, and among the lineal descendants of the 
 Pilgrim Fathers, that Thanksgiving Day in its perfection is 
 to be found. As a national holiday, it is there regarded as 
 being almost if not quite equal in importance to the Fourth 
 of July. On this day, more than any other, do families, 
 long separated and dispersed abroad, reassemble around 
 the festal board and about the blazing hearth under the 
 parental roof. This day do fathers and mothers select to 
 call their wandering children home ; and they, bringing 
 with them their sons and daughters, obey the call. Once 
 more brothers and sisters meet ; once more the old home 
 stead resounds with the merry laughter of childhood, and 
 the elders live over again in their offspring the days of 
 their own departed youth. At these reunions old memo 
 ries arise, calling up old tears or old smiles ; old topics 
 are discussed, old stories told, old hymns sung, and old 
 prayers such as only can be uttered when the whole 
 family reassemble in the old home are offered." 
 
 " You almost make me wish," said my wife, now close 
 beside me, " I were a New Englander by birth, that so 
 I might the more enjoy her peculiar festival. What other 
 day does she celebrate so cordially as this ? " 
 
 " Oh," I replied, " you forget there is Forefathers Day, 
 which commemorates the landing of the Pilgrims, or Puri 
 tans, as it would be more correct to term them. Do you 
 know I once recited some verses of mine at a New-Eng 
 land festival held in commemoration of this day ? "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 181 
 
 My wife said that she did not, and she quite doubted 
 whether I, who was not a New Englander, had ever done 
 so. Thereupon I turned to my scrap-book, and found the 
 following lines, which I read to her, as a proof of my 
 assertion : 
 
 THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 THEY were a sturdy race of men 
 
 A small but dauntless band 
 That sailed along New England s coast, 
 
 And viewed the promised land. 
 
 Two hundred years ago and more, 
 
 These pious Pilgrims came, 
 To build, upon a savage shore, 
 
 A Church, a home, a name. 
 
 For months their little bark has sped, 
 
 The sport of boisterous winds, 
 Until, at last, with tattered sails, 
 
 An anchorage it finds. 
 
 Then, on its deck glad hymns of praise, 
 
 And voices loud in prayer, 
 From earnest men and women rise 
 
 Upon the frosty air. 
 
 The falling snow is drifting deep, 
 
 The wind is fierce and high, 
 When from the May-Flower s icy deck 
 
 They view their haven nigh. 
 
 No verdant landscape meets their gaze, 
 
 Nor flower, nor foliage bright; 
 A wild and snow-clad wilderness 
 
 Is all that greets their sight. 
 
 While, here and there, amidst the trees, 
 
 Strange forms and shadows rise, 
 That come and go, with catlike tread, 
 
 And watchful lynxlike eyes.
 
 182 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 But hark ! above the ocean s roar, 
 
 A thrilling cry they hear ; 
 It is the Pequot s ringing whoop 
 
 That fills their startled ear. 
 
 For one brief moment shrinks in fear 
 
 The bravest of the band, 
 Till, sword in rest, Miles Standish speaks, 
 
 " God holds us in his hand ! " 
 
 Then back again to trusting hearts 
 Their flying courage turns ; 
 
 Each soul upon that vessel s deck 
 With zeal and glory burns. 
 
 What tempted these brave Christian men, 
 With brave and Christian wives, 
 
 To leave behind them home and friends, 
 And peril thus their lives ? 
 
 For conscience sake, for peace, for faith, 
 
 This noble little flock 
 Crossed o er a wide and stormy sea, 
 
 To land on Plymouth Rock. 
 
 And there, amidst December s snows, 
 They kneel them down to pray, 
 
 And thank their God who, safe thus far, 
 Has brought them on their way. 
 
 And there, amidst December s snows, 
 Their humble homes they rear, 
 
 And teach their daughters and their sons 
 The Lord to love and fear. 
 
 And there, amidst December s snows, 
 
 A goodly seed was sown, 
 From which there sprung a race of men 
 
 Our land is proud to own. 
 
 And there, amidst December s snows, 
 This night our thoughts will stray, 
 
 To linger near our mother s shrine, 
 And bless her Pilgrim-day.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 183 
 
 " So much, my love," I said, " for my appreciation of 
 Forefathers Day. But, to come back to Thanksgiving Day. 
 In town, though duly observed, it has not half the signifi 
 cance which it possesses in the country. The city simply 
 regards it as a day of release from labor. Wall Street 
 speculators don t go down town ; the Custom-House, the 
 Sub-Treasury, the banks, and many places of business are 
 closed. The clinking of gold, and the rustling of green 
 backs in these places of the money-changers are unheard, 
 and the ways leading thereto are quiet and deserted. 
 Many good people go to church in the morning, to dinner 
 in the afternoon, and to the theatre in the evening. Base 
 ball and cricket and billiard clubs have tournaments , and 
 military and target companies display their skill in hitting 
 the bull s-eye ; and Jones, Brown, and Robinson come 
 into the country for a day s fishing or shooting." 
 
 " What ! our Jones, our Brown, our Robinson, do you 
 mean, my dear ? " asked Mrs. Gray. " I am certain I ve 
 seen none of them go past Woodbine Cottage, and I ve 
 been sitting at the window ever since we returned from 
 church." 
 
 " They probably went by while we were in church, my 
 dear," I answered. 
 
 " Oh," said my wife, " that may be." 
 
 " Every one, in short," I continued, " who could, doubt 
 less kept the holiday appropriately ; while those who could 
 not, declared the day to be a Yankee innovation, and not to 
 be compared with the Fourth of July or the First of Jan 
 uary. But even these poor fellows working editors, I 
 imagine managed, no doubt, to get a tenderer slice of 
 turkey, a thicker piece of pie, and an extra bottle of Ca- 
 tawba, than fall to their lot at common unthanksgiving 
 dinners." 
 
 " Poor fellows," said my wife, sympathizingly, " how I 
 pity them. You ought to ask them all out to Woodbine 
 Cottage some day, Mr. Gray. Will you ? "
 
 184 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " Oh, yes," I replied, " often. Do you remember, my 
 dear, the bitter hoax that a young lad, a few years ago, in 
 a spirit of thoughtlessness, perpetrated on Thanksgiving 
 Day ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray said she did not. 
 
 " Well," I continued, " he caused to be inserted in sev 
 eral of the newspapers, a notice to the effect that bread 
 and meat would be given to such of the poor of the city as 
 might desire, and would come for it on Thanksgiving 
 morning, at Union Square. At the appointed hour, hun 
 dreds of poor, forlorn creatures appeared with baskets, pre 
 pared to receive the thanksgiving offering. Bitter the dis 
 appointment and great the sorrow among them, when, 
 after patiently waiting beside the equestrian statue of 
 Washington for hours, for the distribution to take place, 
 they were compelled to believe themselves the victims of a 
 cruel and unexampled hoax, and that neither bread nor 
 meat would be given them that day. Slowly and reluc 
 tantly the vast assemblage dispersed ; and it was not until 
 late in the afternoon, that the last mendicant, who had hoped 
 even against hope itself, drawing her thin shawl around her 
 shivering form, took up her empty basket, and, bearing a 
 heavy heart in her bosom, wended her trembling steps to 
 her humble home. Her home ! yes, if a damp, dark, and 
 ill-ventilated cellar, or a garret with a leaky roof and broken 
 windows, can possess that thanksgiving-like name. To her 
 home, however, she went, where were expectant and hun 
 gry little ones, perhaps, who, after long watching for their 
 mother s coming, were at last doomed to go dinnerless and 
 supperless to their beds of straw. A card published in 
 one of the daily newspapers stated that the boy was peni 
 tent, and sorrowed for his cruel act. Let us hope that this 
 was so ; and may the lesson his thoughtless and cruel deed 
 taught, keep him and all others for the future from violat 
 ing the golden rule, which saith, Do unto others as you 
 would that others should do unto you. "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 185 
 
 Here I observed that my wife wiped her eyes, as if a 
 tear or two had dimmed their sight, and straightway she 
 said that it would also be well to invite these poor people 
 out to Woodbine Cottage. When I invite the first-men 
 tioned " poor fellows," I will also invite the last-named 
 " poor people." 
 
 " Thanksgiving Day in the country, my dear," I said, " is 
 quite different from what it is in the city. It must appear 
 to every one who tills the earth, and plants and reaps 
 thereof, that he should give thanks for the full harvest 
 which has been granted him ; that he should give praise to 
 God that his barns are filled, and that the work of the 
 year is nearly ended, and that a season of rest from toiling 
 in the fields is to be his. He can go to church, I trust, 
 with a clear conscience, if he sent a fat turkey to the 
 parson before going, I am sure he will, and, after listen 
 ing to a sermon tending to illustrate God s wonderful love 
 and goodness, as vouchsafed to the children of men, in 
 bringing peace to our land, and causing our harvests to be 
 plentiful, can return home and partake of a dinner, such 
 as only his wife, a thrifty housekeeper of twenty or more 
 years reputation, can cook, and the greater part of which 
 is the product of his own land, without fear of indigestion, 
 or the many ills which are too often the attendants of city- 
 made dinners, following. In the afternoon he will go and 
 talk with his neighbors, and learn for how much they each 
 sold their hay, and oats, and corn, and wheat ; and then he 
 will come home to tea ; and, perhaps, in the evening, he 
 will have a quiet rubber of whist, and smoke his pipe, and 
 drink a mug of ale or cider ; and later he will have family 
 prayers, and sing a hymn, and go to bed." 
 
 " A very good description, my dear," said my wife, " of a 
 farmer s Thanksgiving Day." 
 
 Which sentiment Miss Floy echoed, and Miss Em. de 
 clared the whole account was almost equal to a story. 
 
 " Thanksgiving Day," I said, much elated, and feeling as
 
 186 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 if I were addressing an audience, " is but the forerunner of 
 Christmas, the most joyful festival in the calendar. Let 
 those of us, then, who have pity for the poor, and who 
 say to ourselves, on next Thanksgiving Day we will fill 
 the basket of our poor brother with bread ; we will kill the 
 fatted calf, and send a portion of it to our neighbor, the 
 poor widow down in the cellar, remember that, before 
 the year goes round, and Thanksgiving comes again, 
 our poor brother may be dead, and our neighbor, the 
 widow, with her children, perish from starvation. When 
 Christmas arrives, however, our poor brother will doubt 
 less be alive, and our neighbor, the widow, still remain in 
 her cellar, surrounded by her little ones. On Christmas, 
 then, let us make glad their hearts by crowning their 
 boards with plenty."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 An Early Tea-party. Rappings. My Neighbor Joyce. Celebrating a 
 Birthday. A Search. A Hot Punch vs. a Cold Punch. Twenty 
 Minutes. Ungrateful. A Toast. " Never again." Rejoice. A 
 Pleasant "Walk. A Glorious Fire. A Package of New Books. A Hot 
 Punch. 
 
 AM passing the day at home, by myself. The 
 children are shut up in the nursery along with 
 Miss Floy, who is teaching their young ideas how 
 to shoot. My esteemed wife has gone to visit a neighbor. 
 Singularly enough, she received her invitation at a very 
 early hour this morning. Indeed, it came before any of 
 my family were out of bed. It is not usual, I know, to 
 ask visitors to one s house before the moon goes down, and 
 while the morning-stars, peering through the keen atmos 
 phere, are still singing together in the heavens ; but cir 
 cumstances sometimes make it necessary to invite, even at 
 three o clock A. M., a lady friend to do so. My neighbor 
 himself, a respectable man of forty years of age, came with 
 the invitation. At first when I heard the knocking at the 
 door and saw that it was far from being daylight, I thought 
 it was " spirit-rapping ; " afterwards, I wondered if the 
 house were on fire, and an early traveller going by had not 
 stopped to tell me of it. When I woke Mrs. Gray, how 
 ever, and called her attention to the disturbance, she very 
 coolly said it was Mr. Joyce, and immediately proceeded to 
 arise and dress herself. How she knew who it was I can 
 not tell ; but when I, opening the window, put my head 
 out into the frosty air, and asked, " Who is there, and 
 what do you want ? " the reply came back : " It s me, 
 neighbor Joyce, and I want Mrs. Gray."
 
 188 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " What for ? " I asked. 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said my wife, " will you stop asking such 
 foolish questions, and close that window, for I m catching 
 my death-cold with that wind blowing upon me." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I replied, " in a minute. Hark ! 
 neighbor Joyce is saying something, and your talking to 
 me prevents me from hearing him. " What did you say ? " 
 I asked outside ; " I did n t catch your reply." 
 
 " We re celebrating a birthday at our house," he re 
 peated. 
 
 " Whose ? " I shouted. 
 
 " I don t know," he replied ; " I want your wife to come 
 and find that out." 
 
 " My dear," I asked, bringing my head inside, " what 
 the deuce does that fellow mean ? Is he crazy ? " 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said my wife impressively, " will you do me 
 the favor to close that window ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I answered ; " but what the dickens 
 brings Joyce here, at this hour, to celebrate a birthday ? " 
 
 " It is all proper, Mr. Gray," she replied ; " I know all 
 about it. Now, do close that window." 
 
 " Yes, yes, in a minute. Joyce," I cried, thrusting my 
 head out of the window, " does your invitation extend to 
 me and the children ? " 
 
 " I guess not," he replied ; " it s only an old woman s 
 tea-party." 
 
 " A tea-party," I echoed ; " well, I m fond of tea-parties 
 myself; but is n t it a little early in the day to give a tea- 
 party ?" 
 
 " Oh, don t bother me," said Joyce ; " you don t know 
 how badly I feel. Is n t your wife most ready ? " 
 
 " I 11 see," I answered. " My love," inside, " are you 
 nearly ready to go to this tea-party ? Joyce is getting im 
 patient." 
 
 " Well, he 11 have to wait until I find my Balmoral skirt, 
 at all events. I laid it on the outside of the bed, just at the
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 189 
 
 foot, when I undressed, and now it s gone. I can t find it 
 anywhere, neither in the bed nor under the bed. One of 
 those blessed children must have been cold in the night, 
 and come and got it to cover over themselves. I do wish 
 you d buy more blankets and quilts ; here s winter upon 
 me, and I ve not half sufficient for all the beds. Good 
 ness me ! what can have become of that skirt ? " 
 
 " Oh, here it is," I said ; " I put it over my shoulders, to 
 keep me warm, when I went to the window to talk to 
 Joyce." 
 
 " That s just like you, Mr. Gray," my wife replied. 
 " Will you please to close that window ? I am shivering 
 with cold." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I replied ; " but you can t be 
 colder than Joyce, outside there, pacing up and down the 
 veranda. Don t you hear him ? Hark ! he is calling to 
 me." 
 
 " Well ! " I cried, putting my head out of the window, 
 " what do you want ? " 
 
 " Is Mrs. Gray nearly ready ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," I answered ; " she has found her skirt now, and 
 has only to put on her shoes and some other things, and 
 she 11 be down in about twenty minutes." 
 
 " Twenty devils ! " he shouted let us hope spasmodi 
 cally "I can t wait all that time. I shall go crazy if 
 she don t come sooner." 
 
 " It is pretty cold out there, Joyce, is n t it ? " I asked. 
 " How would a hot whiskey-punch go ? " 
 
 " Hang your punch ! " answered Joyce. " Ask Mrs. Gray 
 to please hurry." 
 
 " My dear," I said, bringing in my head, " Mr. Joyce 
 wants to know if you 11 please hurry." 
 
 " I am hurrying as fast as I can," my wife, somewhat 
 excited, replied ; " you surely don t wish me to go without 
 being dressed, do you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," I answered. " I 11 go down-stairs and 
 let Joyce in."
 
 190 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " Do so," she replied ; " and tell him I 11 be ready in 
 five minutes ; but please shut the window first." 
 
 " Joyce," I cried, putting my head out of the window, 
 " I m going down to let you in, and my wife will be ready 
 in five minutes." 
 
 " Good ! " cried Joyce, cheerily. 
 
 And then I did close the window, and go down-stairs. 
 
 " Joyce," I said, when I had opened the door, and taken 
 him into the comfortable library, "excuse my appearance, 
 old fellow ; I did n t stop, as you see, to array myself in 
 purple, as I thought the fine linen would answer, es 
 pecially as I didn t want to keep you any longer out in-the 
 cold." 
 
 " You re very kind," said Joyce, " but you might have 
 thought of asking me into the house fifteen minutes ago." 
 
 " Look here, Joyce," I replied, " don t be ungrateful 
 now. I did think of it ; but what with your talking to 
 me outside, and Mrs. Gray inside, I really had no op 
 portunity." 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated Joyce. 
 
 " Joyce," I said, " I don t think we ve time enough to 
 heat water, so we 11 take it cold. Here s a bottle of 
 choice whiskey ; help yourself." Joyce did so. 
 
 " Joyce," I said, " a toast, Many happy returns of the 
 day." 
 
 " No," he said, gloomily, rubbing his hands ; " never 
 again, never again." 
 
 " Oh, I ve heard husbands say that before, Joyce. Say 
 ing so don t amount to anything. They always forget 
 they ve said it." 
 
 " But I never shall," said Joyce. 
 
 " All right," I answered ; " but, Joyce, you now have 
 occasion to rejoice." 
 
 " Hang your bad puns," said Joyce ; " give me some 
 punch." 
 
 " That is worse yet," I answered.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 191 
 
 " I did n t mean it," said Joyce ; " I did n t, upon my 
 word." 
 
 " All right," I said, " I did n t suppose you did ; but here 
 comes my wife. Don t let her drink too much strong tea, 
 Joyce ; it is apt to make her nervous." 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " cried Joyce ; " how can I help it, I should 
 like to know ? " 
 
 " Well, I don t know that you can," I replied. " The 
 fact is that we husbands can t help a great many things 
 which our wives do. If they will, they will, and that s an 
 end of it." 
 
 " That s so," said Joyce, " you Ve hit it there ; " and my 
 wife appearing at that moment, I said good-by ; and, wishing 
 them a pleasant walk and my wife a quick return, I let 
 them out into the cheerless dawning, and, coming back 
 myself to the library, stirred up the buried embers on the 
 hearth, and, putting some fresh wood above them, soon 
 had a glorious fire blazing before me. 
 
 It was scarcely worth while, I thought, to go to bed again ; 
 therefore I resolved to examine the new books which I had 
 brought from town the night before. So, after finishing 
 my toilet, I opened the package before me. To me there 
 are few pleasanter things in this life than to open a bundle 
 containing new books. And how plentifully, in these 
 holiday times, do new books make their appearance ! 
 They fall around one as thickly as leaves in Valambrosa. 
 " And what," I ask myself, " can be more appropriate, at 
 this season, for a gift to a beloved friend, than a book ? 
 Mothers, wives, sisters, daughters ; fathers, husbands, broth 
 ers, and sons, individually and collectively, find delight in 
 a new book. A book helps to lighten the weariness of 
 convalescency, the dreariness of sorrow, the tediousness of 
 idleness; it makes more cheerful the honeymoon, adds 
 greater lustre to happy homes, and crowns the enjoyments 
 of the holidays. 
 
 " Now, there is my savage literary friend," I say aloud,
 
 192 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 the while carefully undoing the paper which enwraps my 
 books, " who, if I should ask, which do you prefer, a book 
 store or a library? would probably answer neither, but 
 that he preferred a bookstall, filled with what I would term 
 second-hand rubbish, dusty and musty, and among which 
 one might rummage half a day without finding a single 
 book worth the carrying home ; but, if found, it would seem 
 to him most valuable, and one, he would declare, that could 
 be obtained neither for love or money at a regular book 
 store. Probably it would turn out to be a mutilated copy 
 of a collection of Irish plays, written by some old buffer 
 who had been dead a hundred years, but who, in his day 
 and generation, had a certain reputation as a playwright, 
 surpassed only by that which he possessed of being able 
 to brew and to drink a better and stronger hot whiskey- 
 punch than any other man in Dublin." 
 
 Being thus reminded of a punch, I get the little copper 
 kettle in which my wife boils water for her tea, and place 
 it on the coals in the chimney-corner : then I hunt sharply 
 around for a lemon and white sugar, and, having found 
 them, place them on the table beside the bottle of Glen- 
 livet. 
 
 Then, thinking aloud again, I say, " There is to me some 
 thing exceedingly pleasant in possessing a fresh book, with 
 its leaves still uncut, and its contents still unknown, which 
 is eminently gratifying to my feelings. It gives me the 
 impression that I am, in some sort of a way, a literary 
 Columbus, about to discover a new country ; and when I 
 sit down, and take my paper-knife in my hand, I feel con 
 fident that I am going to consummate an important act." 
 
 Thereupon I draw forth from the package a copy of 
 " ^sop s Fables." There was a time, years ago, when I 
 was a youngster, that I had great faith in Mr. JEsop, and 
 believed that he really was acquainted with animals pos 
 sessed of the faculty of speech. It was a shock to my 
 feelings, I remember, when I discovered that, after all, the
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 193 
 
 stories were nothing more than what they purported to be, 
 
 fables. I never was able, afterwards, to read them with 
 the same zest ; and, though I take kindly to them in their 
 new dress, yet I endeavor to make myself believe them lit 
 erally, and always skip the application. I have not, how 
 ever, and I hope I never shall, lose my interest in, and en 
 joyment of, the next book I draw forth, which is " Robin 
 son Crusoe." How the very name recalls the days of my 
 boyhood ! What plans I formed, after reading it, for get 
 ting shipwrecked on Rocky Island ! And I did one day 
 drift off alone in an old scow, and came to grief before I 
 reached my desert island, through being overhauled by a 
 party of shad fishermen, and ignominiously towed back, 
 notwithstanding my protests, to my starting-place ! How 
 I longed for a goat-skin dress, and a parrot, and a man 
 Friday! My faith in the truthfulness of that book has 
 never been shaken ; and now, when I find it so nicely 
 printed, and embellished with a hundred pictures, I am 
 more than ever convinced of its truth ; and I should be 
 sorely tempted, I am certain, to punish very severely any 
 one of my boys or girls who did n t believe in it implicitly 
 from beginning to end. 
 
 " And here," I say, bringing forth the last volume, " is 
 The Children in the Wood, told in charming verse. The 
 story carries one back, in imagination at least, to the days 
 of good Queen Bess, when young Sir Arthur and little 
 Lady Jane for these were the names of the two children 
 
 lived and died, and were buried by the robins, who 
 
 Strewed, with pious care, the leaves 
 
 On cheek, and brow, and breast, 
 Till they had raised a funeral mound 
 To mark their place of rest. 
 
 " Ah me ! " I exclaimed, taking the kettle off the fire, 
 and pouring a small quantity of hot water into a goblet 
 which contained some white sugar, that had been bruising 
 13
 
 194 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 itself against a bit of lemon-peel for the past ten minutes, 
 and to which I added, after the sugar was thoroughly dis 
 solved, a modicum of Scotch whiskey, which I thereupon 
 stirred with a spoon, and partook of unctuously and appre 
 ciatively, " ah me ! " I repeated, " I almost wish I were a 
 boy again, that I might once more have the pleasure of 
 reading, for the first time, Robinson Crusoe/ and all 
 other juvenile books."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 An Investment. Trumpets. A Deaf Girl. Horns. A German 
 Fashion. Tooting. A bewildered Party. Silver-plated and Tin 
 Trumpets; the Family supplied. A Jolly Sight. Foremen and 
 Captains. Broken English. Gabriel. Two Horns. Another Kind 
 of a Horn. 
 
 HAVE been investing considerable money, re 
 cently, in speaking-trumpets. My wife has a sil 
 ver-plated one, and the rest of the family tin ones. 
 The reason of this is that the nursery-maid, a young Ger 
 man girl of pleasing appearance, and who only partially 
 understands the English language, is almost as deaf as that 
 popular object of comparison, a post. We had all made 
 ourselves hoarse with shouting at her, and I determined to 
 endure it no longer ; so I suggested to my wife the pro 
 priety of discharging her and hiring a young woman whose 
 ears had not been corked up. But so many good traits 
 were discovered in Bertha, she was so willing to do any 
 thing you required of her, and so quick to accomplish it, 
 after she understood what it was you desired ; in fact, so 
 quick that she goes off sometimes half-primed, thinking 
 that she clearly knows what you wish, and does exactly 
 that which you do not wish her to do, that my wife pre 
 ferred to endure the existing evil rather than risk finding 
 something worse in a girl of whom she knew nothing. 
 Desiring, however, to alleviate, as far as practicable, the 
 annoyance which the retention of Bertha made necessary, 
 I purchased and brought home, much to the astonishment 
 of my wife and the delight of the little ones, a dozen trum 
 pets, assorted sizes. Of course my family cannot make
 
 196 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 use of them all ; but, in case of visitors, I tnought, for sup 
 plying them with, they would be handy to have in the 
 house. 
 
 " What in the world, Mr. Gray," my wife asked, when 
 the expressman, having deposited at the door one evening, 
 just as we were finishing our dinner, the package contain 
 ing them, which I immediately had brought into the din 
 ing-room, where I unpacked and exposed them to view, 
 " what in the world," she reiterated, " are you going to do 
 with all those horns ? " 
 
 " "Well," I replied, " as New Year s Day is coming, I 
 thought, since we had a German girl living with us, it 
 would be polite in us to adopt the German fashion of 
 blowing on horns as the old year goes out and the new one 
 comes in. This is done, I believe, to frighten away the 
 ghost of the dead year, and to encourage the spirit of the 
 new year to approach." 
 
 " I, for one," said my wife, slightly bridling up, " don t 
 desire to accept that fashion. I am satisfied to let the 
 ghost of the old year go and the spirit of the new come 
 without such foolery on my part, even if it be a German 
 fashion. I d look well, would n t I, and Miss Floy, and the 
 children, too, going out into the street, in the middle of a 
 cold winter night, tooting on one of those concerns ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear," I said, " if you do not wish to do it, 
 you know you need not ; but, from your desiring to keep 
 Bertha, I really thought that something of this kind, which 
 would be gratifying to her sense of nationality, as it were, 
 would meet with your cordial approval. If I have been 
 mistaken, why, I am sorry." 
 
 " You certainly are," said my wife, " the strangest and 
 most foolish man I ever met. Now, what shall we do with 
 those horns ? " 
 
 " They are not horns, my dear," I said, " but trumpets ; 
 though never mind that. An idea has struck me. See." 
 And, seizing one of them, I shouted through it, " Bertha ! "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 197 
 
 Bertha, who was up-stairs in the nursery, immediately 
 made her appearance. 
 
 " Bertha," I continued, still shouting through it, " go 
 down into the cellar and draw me a pitcher of ale." 
 
 Bertha took the pitcher, and disappeared. 
 
 " You see," I continued, addressing the slightly bewil 
 dered party who sat around the table, and who were con 
 vulsed with laughter, " to what excellent use these trumpets 
 can be applied. Bertha, who has not been known to hear 
 anything you might say to her until it had been repeated 
 at least a dozen times, and each repetition of which it was 
 necessary to yell louder and louder, until you almost 
 cracked your skull and nearly raised the roof off of the 
 house, now hears and understands at the first bidding. My 
 dear," I continued, selecting the silver-plated trumpet, 
 " allow me to present you with this magnificent affair ; and 
 you, Miss Floy, another, equally effective, but not so high 
 priced ; and you, my little ones," handing each of them one, 
 " small, smaller, smallest. And now your papa will take 
 this ; the remaining ones we will reserve for invited 
 guests." 
 
 It is a very jolly sight, to see each member of my family 
 going about the house with a trumpet slung at her side, 
 for all the world like so many foremen of fire-engine com 
 panies, or sea captains on the quarter-deck, and to hear 
 them given their orders, in stentorian voices, at the break 
 fast and dinner table. They appear to have an idea, too, 
 that, by talking to Bertha through the trumpets, she will 
 the more readily understand the English of what they are 
 saying. This may or may not be so ; but, at all events, 
 she does seem to more fully understand what is said to 
 her, and is, moreover, highly delighted with the success 
 attendant upon the use of the trumpets. Indeed, she is 
 so pleased with them that she carries two herself, and noth 
 ing delights her more than to shout back her answers, in 
 broken English, with a vehemence and rapidity quite ap-
 
 198 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 palling, at my wife, who, at times, I am sorry to say, is 
 quite crazed with the tumult, and wishes the trumpets in 
 Jericho, or some other equally agreeable place. 
 
 Miss Floy very wickedly says that the trumpetings now 
 going on in Woodbine Cottage are calculated to make 
 even Gabriel jealous, and she much doubts whether he 
 will be able to create a louder noise when the time conies 
 for him to wake the sleepers. Miss Floy further says that 
 it will no longer be necessary for me to go round the 
 corner, to the old sea captain s, late at night, as I have 
 been accustomed to do, to " take a horn " with him before 
 going to bed, as the prevalence of horns in my own house 
 will be all-sufficient ; indeed, she thinks that I might ask 
 him to come to Woodbine Cottage and take several with 
 me, without any perceptible loss of quantity or of detri 
 ment to the discord. 
 
 Since those horns came into the house, the baby has slept 
 scarcely a wink, except at night, and at least three servants 
 have come and gone, giving, as the reason for their depart 
 ure, that their nerves could not stand the racket. One 
 good thing, at least, has been accomplished by the intro 
 duction of those horns, in that the German girl, who walks 
 around the house with a trumpet at each ear, is now able 
 to hear the baby cry, which, previously, she was not able 
 to do.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The coming of Christmas. A Christmas-tree. A Party of Little Folks. 
 
 Several New Books. A Christmas Story. " Santa Claus s Visit." 
 A Cold, Still Night. Mary and her Lover. The Old Man. Nicholas. 
 
 Santa Claus. His Portrait. Pictures. Rejoicings. The Lovers 
 Arrival. Happiness Complete. 
 
 Y dear," I said to Mrs. Gray, as, with the children 
 nestled around us, we seated ourselves near the 
 centre-table, in the library, " are you aware that 
 Christmas is almost here, and we are not provided with a 
 Christmas-tree, or any presents to hang on it, for the little 
 folks?" 
 
 Here the parties interested opened wide their eyes and 
 mouths, as if to see and swallow everything, in the way of 
 toys and candies, that the occasion could possibly bring 
 forth. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " but I have been waiting for Miss 
 Floy, who has promised to assist me in getting up a Christ 
 mas-tree. Captain Jack s little ones have been asked to 
 pass the day with ours, and great preparations are being 
 made by them, in view of this circumstance." 
 
 " Why, we shall have quite a party of little folks," I said, 
 " and it will be my duty to see that as many juvenile books 
 are provided as will enable each of the children to have 
 one. Let me think, which of my friends, the publishers, 
 shall I call upon, on this occasion ? " 
 
 " Why," interposed Mrs. Gray, " there are the Five 
 Little Pigs, and The Fox and the Geese books, with 
 nice illustrations, just published, for the younger ; and The 
 Adventures of a Little French Boy, and Robinson Crusoe, 
 for the boys."
 
 200 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 "True, my love," I replied; "nor can any be better 
 than these." 
 
 " Except some fairy books," exclaimed Em., " and a doll, 
 and a skipping-rope." 
 
 " And oranges, and a rocking-horse," chimed in the boy 
 in boots. 
 
 " And me wants tandies, " lisped the youngest. 
 
 " To be sure," I answered ; " all these matters are im 
 portant, and shall be attended to in due time. It is a 
 pleasant occasion, my dear, this, which so delights the little 
 ones, aside from its historical interest as the Christian s 
 most solemn festival. I do not know what we should do 
 without Christmas, and its attendant saint, good old Santa 
 Claus. 
 
 "And this reminds me, my dear," I continued, "of a 
 story which I have written, which, if you will permit me, I 
 will read to the club, this evening even the little ones 
 may take pleasure in hearing it ; so, if they will be very 
 quiet, they may remain up beyond their usual bedtime, 
 while I read it." 
 
 Mamma consenting, and the children promising to be 
 " good," I read the following, entitled 
 
 SANTA CLAUS S VISIT. 
 
 IT was as still and cold on Christmas Eve as it 
 could well be ; so cold that the very moon-beams, as they 
 came struggling against the window-pane, seemed to con 
 geal, and appeared like lines of silver wire drawn out into 
 the icy air. The trees were covered with a coating of ice, 
 which gleamed and glittered in the moonlight, as if their 
 branches were studded with precious stones ; icicles, like 
 pointed spears, hung from the eaves of the cottages ; and 
 the smoke which rose from the hundred chimneys of the 
 village, passed, like pious incense, upwards into the still air, 
 bearing in its quiet folds kind thoughts and grateful words 
 from the loving ones clustered around their hearth-stones.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 201 
 
 The snow lay deep upon the ground, and was covered with 
 a thick crust, which bore up the children when from the 
 beaten track they turned aside, chasing each other over the 
 frozen surface, as they came home from school. Lights 
 gleamed from the windows of every cot in the single street 
 of the village, and voices of young and old mingled with 
 song and laughter. At one end of the village, within a 
 cottage, a little apart from the others, are seated an old 
 man of seventy winters, his wife, and his granddaughter, 
 Mary. The room is one of those antique rooms which 
 answer alike for the parlor and kitchen ; the floor is of 
 oak, and sanded with clean white sand, which was sprin 
 kled by Mary s own hands. Pictures adorn the walls, 
 descriptive of " The Prodigal Son," in four distinct illus 
 trations, his going, his folly, his poverty, and his return. 
 On the dresser are ranged pewter platters and numerous 
 plates ; while mugs of goodly dimensions hang from pegs, 
 and reflect the flame of the fire. Curtains of white, as 
 pure as the snow in the meadow, are drawn at the windows 
 and fall in graceful proportions ; on one side of the wain 
 scot, a little away from the dresser, hangs a cage of woven 
 willow and wire-work ; within it a robin that bird of the 
 homestead gladdens the house with its music. On an 
 ancient carved table, drawn out in the middle of the room, 
 lies the Bible, unclapsed, and wide open, and the eyes of 
 the matron are fixed on the passage before her, " We have 
 seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him." 
 
 The old man is seated within his arm-chair, with his feet 
 to the fire, where the yule-log is burning, and he watches 
 the flame and the smoke as they dance and play with each 
 other, while his thoughts are wandering back to the time 
 of his youth, when he danced and joyed with the maidens. 
 Oft doth his eye seek the face of his grandchild beside 
 him, with a look of the kindest inquiry. Sad, sad is the 
 heart of the maiden, though her lips wear the smile of 
 happiness ; yet oft doth she start and sigh as footsteps
 
 202 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 glide on past the doorway. Thus sit they in silence, each 
 wishing, yet fearing, to utter the thoughts that have birth 
 in their bosoms, till the clock in the corner, grown bold by 
 the stillness, chimes loudly the hour of seven. Then the 
 cat by the fireside, dozing, awakened by the sound, answers, 
 by purring, the chirp of the cricket, and the dog, with a 
 wag of his tail, looks up to the face of his master. Then 
 rises the old man, and paces the floor of the kitchen ; his 
 face has a look of trouble, and the eyes of the maiden 
 are downcast ; while the matron wipes the mist from her 
 glasses and lays them within the book, on the page that 
 tells of the birth of our Saviour. Still paces the old 
 man backward and forward, like a pendulum weary with 
 going ; but, anon, he stops at the window, and drawing the 
 curtain aside, looks out on the village ; the street is deserted, 
 and he hears not the sound of a footfall. Then he turns 
 to his granddaughter Mary, and says, 
 
 " Why is it, my child, that Nicholas comes not hither 
 to woo thee on this holiest of eves ? Surely thou canst 
 not have driven him from thee in anger ? " 
 
 Then sighed the maiden, and answered as follows : 
 
 " Truly, my father, I know not the reason that keeps 
 him away ; t is now three days since I have seen him, 
 though he hath not been out of the village. There are 
 maidens more beautiful, father, than I, and richer by far. 
 Man s heart is a changeable thing, and perhaps my love is 
 forgotten." 
 
 Then paced the old man backward and forward, while 
 dark grew his brow, and the feeling of wrath was upon 
 him. At last he lifted his hand and said : 
 
 " Never shall Nicholas " 
 
 Suddenly paused the old man, and his hand fell down 
 on the table while the matron looked over her glasses, 
 and opened her mouth as astonished while the maiden 
 rose from her chair and was fixed like a statue the dog 
 cowered in the corner, and the cat crept under the dresser,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 203 
 
 while the clock ceased its ticking, and held up its hands 
 in amazement. But the cricket kept up its chirping and 
 sang louder and louder ; brighter grew the fire, and the 
 burning brands crackled and snapped, as if giving a wel 
 come, while the flame and the smoke rose higher and 
 higher, and wreathed together fantastically. 
 
 The door stood open, and there, on the piled-up snow, 
 was a sleigh, carved out from an oak of the forest. Cours 
 ers were there, with stately horns, that resembled the rein- 
 deers of Lapland: they pawed the snow with their hoofs, 
 and scattered it high in the heavens ; icicles hung from 
 their antlers, and their backs were covered with snow- 
 flakes ; they were fastened to the sleigh with links cut 
 from the icebergs, and their saddles were carved out of 
 ebony, inlaid with hailstones ; their reins were of crystal 
 lized moon-beams. The sleigh was filled with presents of 
 all kinds, toys for the children, and candies and books 
 in profusion. Then from out the sleigh there arose a be 
 ing of jovial appearance. He winked to his steeds, and 
 then entered the cottage. His face was the face of the 
 moon seen through the mists of October ; his eyes were like 
 stars of the night, and his mouth was made for feasting 
 and drinking; his hair was white as the snow, and his 
 beard like the hoar-frost ; his looks were quizzical, and jol 
 lity shone in each feature ; he was short in stature, though 
 broad in his girth, while his walk was a roll and a caper ; 
 his coat was the skin of the polar bear, and hung round 
 his body, alas, ere the morning, it would be black with 
 the soot of the chimneys ; leathern breeches adorned his 
 limbs, and fitted his person exactly ; moccasons covered his 
 feet, and he bore in one hand a three-cornered hat, in the 
 other a flagon of home-brewed. Closing the door, he sat 
 down in a chair, and placed the flagon beside him ; not a 
 word did he speak, but, taking a mug from the table, he 
 filled it, and handed the same to the old man. Trembling, 
 he drank ; but when he had finished ha. smacked his lips,
 
 204 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 and vowed it was as good as the best, even that which his 
 old wife had brewed him. 
 
 Loudly old Santa Clans laughed (for it was he), till he 
 shook " like a bowl full of jelly." Then he sung an old 
 song, till the rafters resounded, and the old man joined in 
 with the chorus : 
 
 " Both back and side go bare, go bare, 
 
 Both foot and hand go cold ; 
 But on Christmas give us good ale enough, 
 Whether it be new or old." 
 
 At last Santa Glaus rose, but no word did he speak as 
 he pointed to the flagon ; and there, as if in a mirror, they 
 saw the inside of a cottage, and heard the music of voices, 
 young men and maidens were gathered together, and 
 linked hand in hand in the dance. But Mary saw not in 
 the group the one she so longed to behold, and her heart 
 grew light as she gazed. Slowly the picture faded from 
 sight, and now they looked on another, and heard the faint 
 murmur of bells. 
 
 Rapidly over the frozen ground came a party in sleighs ; 
 and as each passed along, the light of the moon shone 
 upon them. Mary s heart beat faster and faster ; many 
 among them she knew, but nowhere saw she her lover. 
 Slowly the picture faded from sight, and now they looked 
 on another, and heard men s voices in anger. 
 
 In the village inn, in the bar-room, were grouped to 
 gether a party of men, drinking and gaming. Mary hid 
 her face in her hands, for her woman s heart dared not to 
 look on the picture. But she thought of her lover, of his 
 goodness and kindness unto her, and she knew he could 
 not be among them ; and she gazed with calm heart and 
 clear eye on the semblance before her ; but no shade of 
 her lover was there. Slowly the picture faded from sight, 
 and now they looked on another, and heard the faint chirp 
 of a cricket. 
 
 T was a chamber, alone and deserted ; no light and no
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 205 
 
 fire gave warmth to the picture, and Mary knew t was the 
 room of her lover. Unpressed was the bed, and the cur 
 tains were drawn at the window, and shut was the chest 
 and the clothes-press. But he was not in the chamber. 
 Slowly the picture faded from sight, and now they looked 
 on another, and heard the low stroke of a hammer. 
 
 There, in his workshop, she saw her lover, and his eye 
 was lit up with a smile. Beside a carved wardrobe he 
 stood, and was inlaying her name in the panel. Hard had 
 he worked, day after day and night after night, to finish it 
 for her by Christmas, and now he put the finishing touch, 
 and gazed on his work as gazes an artist. Beat Mary s 
 heart lovingly faster, tears overflowed from her eyelids, as 
 water bubbles up from the fountain, and she sank on her 
 knees by the hearth-stone, while her hands were clasped 
 o er her bosom. The old man bowed his head on his 
 breast, while his silver locks shrouded his eyebrows, and 
 his wife opened the Bible, her thin lips parted in prayer. 
 Oh ! filled were their hearts with joy at the instant. But 
 ere they looked round, Santa Glaus had departed, and the 
 soot dropped down from the chimney. 
 
 Soon a step on the snow outside was heard, and Nicholas 
 tapped at the doorway ; he entered, and Mary was clasped 
 in his arms, and a kiss was impressed on her forehead. A 
 grasp of the hand did the old man give, and the matron 
 murmured her blessing. So happiness dwelt in the house 
 hold this night, and the Christmas that followed thereafter. 
 
 When I had finished, the children clapped their hands, 
 and said it was a very nice story ; and then, as they showed 
 evident signs of sleepiness, Miss Floy very kindly con 
 sented to see them to bed.
 
 206 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIH. 
 
 Buckwheat Cakes. Sausages. Confidence. How to make Sausages ; 
 how to cook them. Opening a Cook-house. Miss Floy s Manage 
 ment of Children; her Play; its Progress. 
 
 1 HE season of buckwheat cakes has arrived. "With 
 buckwheat cakes, country-made sausages, a deli 
 cate roll or two, and a cup of Mocha coffee, with 
 cream, one can make a very comfortable breakfast. But 
 the cakes must be light, nicely browned, and hot from the 
 griddle ; then eaten with plenty of fresh, golden-hued but 
 ter, and, for those who are not particular about the 
 flavor of their coffee, a spoonful or two of refined syrup 
 may be added ; and, for my part, I am sorely tempted, I 
 confess, to use maple-syrup, and you have a dish good 
 enough for any one. The sausages, too, must be well 
 cooked ; if they incline to be a little crispy, reminding one 
 just a trifle of the cracklings of roasted pig, it is not 
 amiss. You should be cautious though, as to where you 
 obtain your sausages ; if you have ever so slight an ac 
 quaintance with the woman who makes them, it is well, 
 provided you have confidence in her. Confidence in your 
 sausage-maker is an excellent thing. One of the best ways 
 for possessing this confidence is to have your sausages pre 
 pared in your own house, with materials furnished by your 
 self. Pork, two thirds lean and one third fat, chopped 
 finely, is, of course, the foundation for all sausages ; but 
 a boiled beef s tongue may, with a good result, be added. 
 Salt, pepper, summer-savory, and sage should be the chief 
 seasoning, though curry and spices may be effectively
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 207 
 
 joined thereto. The mixing of these various ingredients 
 so that no one savor predominates should be as care 
 fully wrought as in making a salad. It is not every one 
 who can properly accomplish this, any more than can every 
 one create a salad. It requires judgment in preparing the 
 combinations, skill in putting them together, and an appre 
 ciative taste. Then it should be made into small cakes, 
 and fried slowly and kindly in its own fat. For a long 
 time it seemed to me as if this making them fry themselves, 
 as it were, was a little ungenerous ; so one day I told the 
 cook to fry them in olive oil. She did so, and, though I 
 pronounced them to be very fine, my mother, in whose 
 house the experiment was made, and all of my juvenile 
 brothers and sisters, failed to take kindly to them, and 
 when we next had them for breakfast they were cooked in 
 the usual way. 
 
 Something very similar to the above I spoke to Mrs. 
 Gray the other morning at breakfast, whereupon she asked 
 me if I had been to the French cooking academy. 
 
 I answered I had not, but that I had serious intentions 
 of visiting it ; for I thought I could put the professor up to 
 one or two ideas in the matter of preparing certain new 
 dishes, which would be of benefit to him. 
 
 " What, if you will allow me to ask," said my wife, " are 
 the dishes to which you refer ? " 
 
 " Well," I replied, " I dare say I can instruct that chef- 
 de-cuisine how to concoct a green-corn pudding among 
 other dishes." 
 
 " Probably you can," my wife replied ; " but I would not 
 advise you to do so." 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because," answered Miss Floy, " you cannot tell how 
 soon you may desire to open a cook-house for the sale of 
 corn-puddings in New York. If Uncle Samuel should 
 turn the cold shoulder upon you, and literature should fail, 
 why, you may have to turn your talents to not take them
 
 208 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 out of, observe the white napkin, and knife, fork, and 
 spoon business." 
 
 My wife nodded approvingly, and the little ones, without 
 knowing why they did so, laughed merrily. 
 
 " Children," said Miss Floy, who, since she has under 
 taken to instruct them in the multiplication-table, seeks 
 also to improve their manners at the breakfast-table, and 
 generally has a rod in pickle for them in the form of an 
 exhibit to me of their day s shortcomings, which she pro 
 duces at the dinner-table, " children," she repeated, " do 
 you know that it is extremely rude to laugh aloud during 
 your meals ? The table is the place where you should eat, 
 and not chatter or laugh. William Howard," addressing 
 my eldest boy, " will you do me the favor not to put such 
 great pieces of food into your mouth ? And you, Mary 
 Allen, stop sipping your coffee with a spoon, it is quite 
 improper.". 
 
 " It is n t coffee," answered the pert young miss ; " it s 
 only milk and water. I wish it was coffee, though." 
 
 " There, say no more," said Miss Floy. " It is highly 
 improper for you to reply to me in that manner. Children 
 should be seen, and not heard." 
 
 " Perhaps, then, you 11 see me recite my lessons, and 
 not hear them," said Miss Em. 
 
 " Miss Emma Louisa," Miss Floy, I observe, likes to 
 address the children by their full Christian names, "I 
 shall be compelled to ask you to leave the table if you 
 speak in that way again. You will oblige me by holding 
 your peace." 
 
 " Piece of what ? " asked Em. 
 
 " Piece of tongue," said Miss Floy, getting provoked. 
 
 " Emma," said her mother, reprovingly, " don t be rude." 
 
 Miss Emma bowed her head, and was silent. 
 
 Miss Floy looked numerous daggers at the three chil 
 dren, and then turned to me and winked. 
 
 It is my private opinion that Miss Floy is not the proper
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 209 
 
 person to manage these children. She is too much of a 
 child herself, a somewhat wilful, giddy creature ; and, 
 though she strives to govern them properly, she is prone 
 to be too exacting with them at one moment, and too 
 lenient the next. The result is such episodes as the above. 
 Miss Floy continues to work on her play, and has com 
 pleted the second act ; but, owing to the disturbance which 
 resulted from her reading the first to me, she has forborne 
 to favor me with the hearing of the second. "When the 
 five acts are completed, I shall doubtless be treated to the 
 play entire ; but, before that time arrives, I am afraid that 
 the season of buckwheat cakes will have ended. 
 
 14
 
 210 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The Twentieth of December. The Indian Dinner. Prominent Dishes. 
 Another Christmas Story. My Children in Utopia. Mary and Fanny. 
 The Old Saint. A Christmas Hymn. A long Time ago. An Old- 
 fashioned Chamber. Poor Old Lady. My Grandmother. Prayers. 
 Arrival of Santa Glaus. A Jolly-looking Gentleman. Merry Christ 
 inas. 
 
 ND you really believe, Mr. Gray," said my wife, 
 continuing a conversation which our rising from 
 the dinner-table had interrupted, " that to-day is 
 the two hundredth anniversary of the Indian wedding ? " 
 
 " Most certainly I do," I replied. " The date of the 
 marriage is distinctly stated in the old Bible, and I know 
 of no reason to doubt its correctness. I wish I knew 
 whether any one would celebrate the third centennial an 
 niversary of this couple, and if so, whether the dinner will 
 be equal to the one we have just eaten. Your idea of add 
 ing hominy and succotash to the bill of fare, Mrs. Gray, 
 because of the probability of these having formed promi 
 nent dishes at their wedding-feast, was worthy of you, and, 
 in the name of the Indian woman, I thank you." 
 
 " Nonsense, Mr. Gray ; no thanks are necessary. If my 
 efforts in getting up this dinner have been successful, and 
 if it has met with your approval, I desire nothing further." 
 
 " You are too kind, my dear," I answered ; " and if you 
 will tell me what you would like in the way of furs for 
 your Christmas present, I will promise to purchase them 
 for you. Speaking of furs and Christmas, reminds me of a 
 story I wrote when I was a bachelor, and my family existeu 
 only in Utopia, which, if you would like to hear it, Mrs. 
 Gray, I will read aloud to you and the little ones."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 211 
 
 Mrs. Gray acquiescing, and the children, who, at the 
 word story, had left their play of " hunt the slipper," and 
 had gathered around papa s knees, showing their willing 
 ness to listen, I drew from my desk a small roll of manu 
 script, somewhat faded with years, which I unrolled, and, 
 taking my usual place on the rug before the grate, read 
 the following 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
 
 IT was Christmas Eve, and I was seated in my easy-chair, 
 drawn up before the blazing wood-fire in my quiet study, 
 lost in a golden reverie. Beautiful pictures of long ago, 
 kept green in memory through many twilight musings, 
 were passing before me. The present, too, with its cheer 
 ful realities, and the far-off future, with its hopeful plans, 
 came to fill my heart with happiness. How long my rev 
 erie lasted I scarcely know, but I was suddenly aroused 
 from it by seeing the old oak-door that door which had 
 been closed for many a year, that passed into the chamber 
 where my mother died slowly open, and timidly and 
 noiselessly come forth my two little ones, Mary and Fanny. 
 By what means they had obtained ingress into that long- 
 deserted room, the key of which I keep in the private 
 drawer of my secretary, I never thought to ask. I seated 
 them, one on either knee, while they twined. their little 
 arms caressingly about my neck, and, kissing me with 
 their red lips, said they had come for papa to tell them 
 some Christmas stories. I felt that God had been very 
 kind in bestowing upon me two such precious gifts. 
 
 Mary, my elder child, has the dark hair and the spark 
 ling black eyes of her mother, and the very look which in 
 my early manhood had such power to draw me to that 
 mother s side. Fanny, my baby-girl, has light hair and 
 mild, blue eyes, and resembles for so I think when in a 
 musing mood a fair dream of my boyhood, which faded 
 into the shadow-land long before I knew how to distinguish
 
 212 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 between love and sisterly affection. Mary is all vivacity 
 and life ; Fanny is reserved and quiet. Mary laughs aloud ; 
 Fanny only smiles. Mary moves about our home like a 
 singing-bird ; Fanny, like a gleam of sunshine. 
 
 " And what," asked I, " shall papa tell to his little 
 daughters ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Mary, quickly, " first of all tell us those funny 
 verses about Santa Glaus coming down the chimney, 
 dressed in furs, carrying a big pack on his back, and with 
 a pipe in his teeth, to fill our stockings." 
 
 " And then," said Fanny, " please repeat, papa, that 
 pretty hymn of the shepherds sitting on the ground, watch 
 ing their flocks by night, when the angel appeared and 
 told them of Christ s coming." 
 
 And so, while I repeated Clement C. Moore s well-known 
 Christmas verses, they listened quietly, and when I ended 
 Mary exclaimed, clapping her hands with childish glee : 
 
 " Oh, how I should like to see Santa Claus and the rein 
 deers ! And don t you think, papa, that if I should sit xip 
 to-night for Saint Nick, and ask him to give me a large 
 wax doll, with eyes that open and shut, just like the one 
 Cousin Nina has, he would do it ? " 
 
 " And me a book, full of pictures and pretty stories ? " 
 chimed in Fanny. 
 
 I had not the heart to tell them that Santa Claus was 
 but an imaginary being, for I consider that these mysteries 
 of our childhood this belief in fairies and good spirits 
 are of too poetical and beautiful a nature to be rudely dis 
 enchanted of at an early age. The ideals of our child 
 hood disappear fast enough before the actualities of life. 
 So I promised my little ones that I would speak to the old 
 saint in their behalf, while they, nestled snugly in bed, 
 should be dreaming of dolls and books, and I doubted not 
 but their wishes would be gratified. Here Mary kissed my 
 cheek, and called me her good papa ; while Fanny laid her 
 head upon my shoulder and looked up into my face, her 
 mild eyes beaming with gratitude.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 213 
 
 They were both very quiet and attentive while I repeated 
 the Christmas hymn ; and when I had finished it, they 
 asked me for another, and then another, till I quite ex 
 hausted my stock of hymns and carols, and had- to bring 
 my inventive powers to the task in conjuring suitable 
 stories for the Christmas Eve. I remember I told them 
 tales wherein the words plum-pudding and mince-pies, 
 roast turkey and flagons of ale, the yule-log and wassail- 
 bowl had prominent place. But I found that they both 
 loved best to hear me tell of things that happened to my 
 self, many long years before, when I was a little boy, and 
 hung up my stocking o Christinas Eves ; and, among other 
 stories, I told them how, when I was a very small lad, not 
 bigger than Fanny, I had gone with their great-grand 
 mother Gray to the house of an old friend of hers, who 
 lived in the country, to spend the holidays. It was Christ 
 mas Eve when we arrived ; and as we had ridden a long 
 distance in an open sleigh, I was very tired and sleepy, 
 and so, soon after supper, I asked to be put to bed. Here 
 Mary interrupted me to say that I must have been a very, 
 very little boy indeed, to want to go to bed so early on 
 Christmas Eve, and that, for her part, she should n t have 
 been sleepy in the least, but would have liked to sit up all 
 night. This I knew was intended as a hint for me to allow 
 both Fanny and herself to stay up beyond their usual bed 
 time ; so I let the hour go by without dismissing them, and 
 continued my story. 
 
 The chamber which I was to occupy with my grand 
 mother was a very large one, filled with old-fashioned fur 
 niture ; and I remember she told me that the greater part 
 of it came over in the May-Flower, along with the Pilgrim 
 Fathers ; and while she undressed me she told me a long 
 story about Captain Miles Standish, and Governor Carver, 
 and the Indians, and Plymouth Rock, the greater portion 
 of which I can still recall to mind. Here Mary wanted 
 me to tell her what it was, but Fanny said :
 
 214 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " No ; wait till papa has finished telling us about him 
 self." 
 
 So I continued as follows : 
 
 " There seemed to my sleepy little eyes to be quite an 
 army of chairs ranged about the room, and, with their high, 
 straight backs, and long, slender legs, they looked so strange 
 it was difficult for me to keep from watching them. I half 
 expected to see them step out into the middle of the floor 
 and make formal bows to each other. There was a large 
 black-walnut bookcase on one side of the room, filled with 
 great dusty volumes, that looked as if they could never have 
 been read ; and I recollect walking boldly up to it in my 
 nightgown, and finding that the books on the lowest shelf 
 were just as tall as I, and wondering whether I would ever 
 be able to read such huge volumes." 
 
 Here Fanny clapped her hands, and wanted to know if, 
 when I came to be a man, I had ever seen these great 
 books again ; and whether or not they had many pictures 
 in them. So I told her that some of those same books 
 were now in my library, and that they were the very ones 
 she and Mary so often, on rainy Sundays, were fond of 
 looking at, and having me explain to them the pictures. 
 This piece of news seemed to astonish them very much, so 
 they both got down and went to the bookcase to look at 
 those wonderful books which, so many years before, I had 
 wondered at when a little boy. They were very anxious 
 to know how it came to pass that I now owned them, and 
 I told them that one day the good old lady, their great- 
 grandmother s friend, who first possessed them, died, when 
 all her furniture and books were sold, and I had bought 
 these with many others. Here Fanny said, " Poor old 
 lady ! " and crossed her little arms meekly over her breast, 
 looking up into my face most piteously, while her eyes 
 filled with tears. But Mary asked, " Where was her hus 
 band ? why did n t he keep her books ? " So I had to tell 
 her that he had been a soldier, but was killed at the battle 
 of Bunker Hill, soon after their marriage.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 215 
 
 At length I continued : 
 
 " Among other things in the chamber that particularly 
 attracted my attention were several portraits in gilt frames 
 upon the walls, so old and dusty that I thought to myself, 
 They, too, must have come over in the May - Flower. 
 There were two oval-framed mirrors in the room, and a 
 great bunch of peacocks feathers in one corner. But the 
 bedstead itself was the crowning wonder ; so grand and 
 gloomy did it look, that I quite feared to sleep in it. 
 Heavy blue silk curtains surrounded it on every side, up 
 held by four tall posts at the corners. When my grand 
 mother, however, parted the curtains in the middle, and 
 looped them up at the sides with the great silk tassel, 
 thereby revealing the white counterpane and lace-edged 
 pillow-cases, I began to think that there might be a worse 
 place for a little boy to sleep in than that would prove to 
 be. So raised was the bed from the floor that I had to be 
 lifted into it, as it quite excelled my powers of climbing, 
 even by the aid of a chair. When I sank down amidst 
 the feathers, I could but just see the top of my grand 
 mother s turban, as she stood at the bedside smoothing the 
 coverlet about me. 
 
 " After I had repeated my prayers, and my grandmother 
 had gone down-stairs, and I was left alone, with only the 
 ticking of the clock upon the mantel and the light of the 
 blazing wood-fire upon the hearth to keep me company, I 
 remembered that it was Christmas Eve, but that, occupied 
 as I had been, I had forgotten to hang up my stocking." 
 
 Here Mary got down from my knee and crept quietly to 
 the chimney-corner, where she hung up a clean white 
 stocking, with which her mother had provided her, and, 
 coming back laughing, said she wouldn t forget such a 
 thing for all the world. 
 
 "Nor will I," said Fanny, "so soon as papa finishes his 
 story." 
 
 So I kissed my little daughters, and continued :
 
 216 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " "What to do I did not know. I could not get out of 
 bed with any certainty of being able to get back again ; 
 and as for going to sleep, with never a stocking hanging 
 for Santa Glaus to fill, it was not to be thought of. So I 
 determined to keep wide awake till either the good saint 
 or my grandmother should arrive ; but I found it very dif 
 ficult for my sleepy eyes to remain open, as every few 
 moments the old sand-man came along and dropped black 
 sand into them, till first one closed and then the other, and 
 at last, in spite of all I could do, they both shut up tight, 
 and I went to sleep." 
 
 Here Mary opened her large eyes very widely, as if to 
 let me see that no sand-man had come to trouble her yet. 
 
 " After I had slept what seemed to me a long time, I 
 was suddenly aroused by hearing the tinkling of sleigh- 
 bells ; and as I raised myself softly in bed, I saw, just by 
 the fireplace, Santa Glaus himself, like as he is described 
 in the Christmas verses." 
 
 Here Mary clapped her hands ; but Fanny nestled closer 
 to my side. 
 
 " He appeared to be looking for my stocking, which he 
 could not find ; and just as I had mustered courage to tell 
 him where it was, he stepped up before the portrait of a 
 grave-looking gentleman, who wore a powdered wig and dis 
 played an abundance of ruffles to his shirt-front and around 
 his wrists, and asked him, these were his very words, 
 could he tell where little Barry s stocking was hung ? But 
 no answer came from this fine gentleman ; he only shook his 
 head, and seemed to draw back into the depth of the can 
 vas. So Santa Glaus put the same question to the next 
 portrait, which was that of a prim and starched gentle 
 woman, evidently the wife of the first ; but she only pursed 
 up her lips and said nothing. So he questioned the third, 
 a jolly-looking person, with a red nose and yellow waist 
 coat with gilt buttons, who nodded and winked in return, 
 but spoke not a word. At last, in despair, he turned to
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 217 
 
 the portrait of a dainty-looking creature, dressed in white 
 satin, with a red rose on her breast, and who had golden 
 hair and blue eyes, and a delicate pink nose that turned up 
 towards the ceiling very prettily; but she only simpered 
 and cast down her eyes, and evidently wanted to get up a 
 flirtation with the good saint. But he seemed so indignant 
 at the treatment he received, that he turned his back upon 
 her, and would have gone off in a rage, had I not softly 
 wished him a merry Christmas." 
 
 " O papa, how brave you must have been," said Fanny. 
 " I am sure I would n t have dared to speak to him." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed Mary. " I would ; and I d have 
 told him, too, exactly what I wanted." 
 
 " Well, my children," I continued, " my greeting acted 
 like a charm, for he instantly opened his pack and took 
 from it toys, and books, and candy, which he put upon the 
 table at the bedside. Just as he finished, a loud gush of 
 music came up from the rooms below, and, quickly shoul 
 dering his pack, he passed, with a Merry Christmas on 
 his lips, directly up the chimney, and the next moment I 
 saw the shadow of his sleigh and reindeers glide across the 
 frosted window-panes, while, with a beating heart, full of 
 wild wishes for the morrow to come, again I fell asleep." 
 
 As I finished my story, a soft hand was placed over my 
 eyes, and a fond voice exclaimed : 
 
 " Ah ! what a sad romancer you are ! How can you fill 
 our children s minds with such foolish tales ? " 
 
 But I soothed my wife with the promise of a set of furs 
 on the morrow, and, taking her hand in mine, drew her to 
 the chair beside me. Fanny crept close to her mother, 
 and putting up her rosy lips for a kiss, told her not to scold 
 dear papa. And so, with the firelight still flickering on 
 the wall, -and the wind roaring and blustering without, we 
 passed our Christmas Eve. And still I repeated many a 
 pleasant tale, and my sweet wife sung many an olden song, 
 and the children prattled on my knees.
 
 218 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 But as the midnight came the light grew dim, the fires 
 smouldered on the hearth, the songs and stories ceased, and 
 the children s prattle died away. And as I stretched out 
 my hand to take my wife s in mine, I groped about in vain ; 
 my little Mary s arm no longer clasped my neck, nor 
 Fanny s head rested upon my shoulder. I started up and 
 found that all had been a dream, that wife and children 
 of mine lived not yet upon the earth, but had place only in 
 that far-off and sunny land of Utopia, where so many men s 
 possessions and treasures ever remain. 
 
 But I heard the church-bells ringing midnight, and pro 
 claiming to all the world the glad tidings, that " Unto us 
 this night is born, in the city of David, a Saviour, which is 
 Christ the Lord." And my voice joined in the mighty 
 chorus, which from all Christendom arose, " Glory to God 
 in the highest; and on earth peace, good-will towards 
 men." 
 
 When I finished, my wife said it was a very pretty story, 
 and the children were urgent for me to tell them another. 
 But as it was time for them to go to bed, and their mother 
 expected me to go out with her to make a call on a young 
 bride, I was compelled to decline the honor of telling 
 another, and to declare the meeting around the library 
 lamp to be ended.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Christmas Eve. No Christmas. Another Story. Holiday Nights 
 Entertainments. Good Children. Utopia. An old Bank Clerk. 
 Striking a Balance. Old Tom. Mary and Fanny. Hanging up 
 Stockings. 
 
 I-IRISTMAS must be here, Mrs. Gray," I said, as, 
 looking up from the book I was reading, I observed 
 the little ones engaged in hanging their stock 
 ings beside the blazing grate, with evident faith in Santa 
 Claus. 
 
 " Not quite," she answered, " although Christinas Eve 
 may, after all, be designated as such. The children, 
 evidently, believe it to be already here, and will go to bed 
 with all manner of fancies in their little heads." 
 
 " Nothing can be better," I said, " than to have this 
 holiday come once a year, as it does. Suppose, though, 
 through some unforeseen circumstance, an actual im 
 possibility, however, the present month should pass 
 away, and the year 1865 close without Christmas making 
 its appearance." 
 
 Here the children opened their eyes and looked fright 
 ened. 
 
 " How severely, in the future," I continued, " we would 
 criticize and with justice, too the year that had no 
 Christmas in it ! How the little ones, who hang up their 
 stockings on Christmas eves, and dream beautiful dreams 
 on this night, would shudder and turn pale as their nurses 
 recounted to them the frightful epoch bereft of Santa Claus, 
 and, as a matter of course, of the numberless gifts which 
 the old saint, who is no niggard, freely dispenses to all 
 good little boys and girls."
 
 220 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Here the little folks looked sorrowfully at each other. 
 
 " Once there was a time, strange as it may seem, when 
 the years really possessed no Christmas ; but this was long 
 ago, in the dark ages, before our Saviour s day. Now we, 
 who live in the Christian era, need not fear that ever a 
 year will pass unhallowed by Christmas and ungladdened 
 by Christmas cheer. Oh, it is excellent to live in these 
 times, and be a little boy or girl, and have presents given 
 to you, and take sleigh-rides," - 
 
 Here the three little ones clapped their hands in glee. 
 
 " And go to church, where you may hear sweet anthems 
 sung, and listen to the story which all have heard told 
 over and over again, but which ever seems new and beau 
 tiful of the shepherds on the plains of Bethlehem, who, 
 while watching their flocks by night, beheld the Star in the 
 East." 
 
 " Now, papa, do please," cried Em., " tell vis something 
 more about your children in Utopia." 
 
 " Well, if you will be very good little ones, and not go 
 to sleep while I am telling it, though Miss Floy, I 11 
 warrant, will see to your not doing aught so impolite, I 
 will promise to relate all I know about the precious family 
 in Utopia, which was mine long before I knew your dear 
 mother, or had such good little bodies as you are to get my 
 slippers and easy chair ready for me when I come home. 
 But this story is a very long one, and as I shall not be able 
 to tell it all in one evening, I will divide it up through the 
 Christmas week, and will call it the Holiday Nights Enter 
 tainments." 
 
 " Oh, that will be nice," said Em. 
 
 " It will be nice," echoed Mary. 
 
 And " That s bully," said the boy. 
 
 " William Howard," said Miss Floy, reprovingly, " I am 
 astonished to hear you utter such a coarse expression. 
 How many times have I cautioned you against speaking in 
 an improper manner ? "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 221 
 
 " Nary time," he replied. 
 
 " There it is again," she continued ; " you certainly are 
 incorrigible. I shall have to give you a long lesson in 
 your spelling-book to-morrow as a punishment, if you make 
 such a remark again. Miss Emma Louisa, now, is behav 
 ing herself like a lady, and, when Saturday comes, if she 
 continues to be good, she shall come to my room and hear 
 me read some of my play." 
 
 Em. frowned and looked cross. 
 
 " I am sure," said Miss Floy, observing her, " it is quite 
 as interesting as, and much more instructive than, the 
 foolish story your papa is going to read." 
 
 " It ain t, is it, papa ? " asked Em. 
 
 " It may not be to you, my child," I replied, " but to 
 me it is much more so." 
 
 This acknowledgment quite pleased Miss Floy, who 
 smoothed out the creases in her silk dress, and then, with 
 a smiling countenance, sat down near Mrs. Gray to listen, 
 with the children, to the story of 
 
 MY FAMILY IN UTOPIA. 
 
 MINE is a precious family. It consists of a wife and two 
 children. Some of you, perhaps, may remember having 
 heard of them. Their residence, I am happy to state, is 
 in Utopia. I manage to see them several times in the 
 course of the year. Sometimes they come to me, but 
 oftener I go to them. Of an evening especially a winter 
 evening it is my delight to visit them. There is no 
 stage-line, nor canal, nor railroad leading to Utopia ; only 
 a balloon flies occasionally from a chateau in Spain, where 
 I pass many of my evenings, to the vine-clad cottage in 
 which they live. I have never been able to learn exactly 
 where Utopia is situated, though I have made diligent 
 search for it on many maps, at various times. I have often 
 thought that if any one were capable of giving me in 
 formation regarding its locality, it would be Sinbad the
 
 222 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Sailor. I once wrote him a letter of inquiry concerning it, 
 but when I came to superscribe his name, I could not, for 
 the life of me, tell his place of residence ; nor, by refer 
 ring to his biography, as reported in the "Arabian Nights," 
 could I obtain any clew as to his whereabouts. So the 
 letter to him was never mailed. If I could remain awake 
 when journeying to Utopia, I think I might, without doubt, 
 settle to my perfect satisfaction both its latitude and lon 
 gitude ; but I invariably go to sleep on my way thither. I 
 have heard of men who spent their lives seeking in vain 
 to locate it. There is something, I confess, a little strange 
 and misty in all this, something I do not quite under 
 stand, and I fear I never shall. I used to puzzle over it a 
 good deal at first, when I was young ; but now, grown 
 older, I think it better to strive more to discover the exact 
 spot where great peace, and contentment, and righteous 
 ness dwell, than to be wondering and worrying any more 
 about the position of Utopia. 
 
 Few persons of my acquaintance suspect my being at 
 the head of a family. There are no signs to denote either 
 the husband or father in my appearance. No lines of care 
 are traceable on my brow ; no white hairs mingle with my 
 brown locks ; no sighs rise from my bosom, nor is my 
 form less erect than when I was a bachelor. On the con 
 trary, there is much to convince my friends that I am 
 unmarried. I am well preserved ; my constitution is unim 
 paired ; my step as elastic as it was twenty years ago ; 
 and, I am gratified to be able to say it, I whistle as I walk. 
 Sometimes, even, I find myself singing, not in a low tone, 
 but loud enough to be heard above the city s din. It is 
 well that the fact of my being a husband and father should 
 remain a secret to the bulk of my acquaintance. I am 
 very glad that the directors of the bank where I hold a 
 situation as clerk, regard me as a single man.* Should 
 they ascertain my true position in social life, they might 
 wonder how I contrive to support myself and family on
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 223 
 
 the slender salary I receive. They would, doubtless, think 
 it well to examine, oftener than they do, my accounts. 
 Not that I should object to their doing so, for I have no 
 fears but they would find each quantity correct, yet their 
 wonder would thereby be the more increased, and they 
 might think I was too crafty for them ; and, their suspi 
 cions once excited, it would end in my dismissal. Were 
 they to know the truth, even, that I add a few pennies 
 to my scanty wages by occasionally contributing an article 
 to the magazines, this, in itself, would be a sufficient reason 
 for dismissing me from the desk I have so long occupied. 
 These Wall Street directors, I have observed, with some 
 exceptions, are amazingly shy of all who, like myself, de 
 light to dabble in literature. It does not appear proper to 
 them for a book-keeper to be, even in a small way, a book- 
 writer. Therefore it is that with the wily public I choose 
 to pass for an unmarried man, having no desire to rise 
 higher in the social scale than just what I am taken for, 
 namely, a solitary, ill-paid bank clerk. In Wall Street dur 
 ing banking hours, I am neither more or less than this. 
 My intimate friends I have some intimate friends whose 
 positions in life are humble as my own - regard me in a 
 somewhat different light, for the reason, it may be, that 
 they look at me from a directly opposite point of view. 
 The directors behold in me simply a dependent ; my 
 friends consider me their equal, perceive a few good points 
 in iny character, and speak of me with praise somewhat 
 qualified, however. 
 
 Sometimes, when I have been detained at the bank till 
 late in the evening, I have astonished the Custom-house, 
 as I passed it, with a series of whistles so jubilant and 
 shrill, that the weathercock above its roof has whirled 
 around in affright, to learn what was in the wind. But 
 such proceedings, on my part, within the dollar-getting 
 precincts of Wall Street, do not often occur. It is only 
 when I step into the shadow of the cross that surmounts
 
 224 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Trinity s spire, that I put off, as I would a garment, the 
 mildewed air of a bank clerk, and assume the sunshiny 
 lounge of a man of leisure. I do not, however, suppose 
 that my assumed character imposes on any one. I feel the 
 disguise is altogether too feeble. I can detect such in 
 another as quickly as I do a counterfeit bill. I take the 
 character simply to please myself, and, as I stroll up Broad 
 way, among gayly attired ladies and well-dressed men, I 
 forget that I am nailed, like a spurious coin, to a bank 
 desk, while I revel for a time in the brief Arcadian dream 
 of happiness I conjure up. 
 
 On the last day of the year just passed, when I glanced 
 over my private account with the bank, preparatory to 
 striking a balance, I was surprised to find that a sum which 
 the figure X would cover, and leave a wide margin, was all 
 that would be coming to me. I examined my pass-book 
 several times very carefully, to make certain I was correct. 
 I even hoped that, somewhere, I had made a mistake in 
 my calculations. Though I pride myself on my accuracy 
 as regards balancing other people s accounts, yet, in my 
 own case, I should have been pleased to detect an error, if 
 in my favor, though it were at the expense of my pride. 
 I confess I was exceedingly disappointed in the result 
 before me. I had expected that at least five times that 
 trifling sum would have been my due. Visions of several 
 unpaid accounts rose up before me, accounts which I had 
 promised to settle early in the new year. I felt quite 
 unnerved when I thought of them. I really pitied the 
 holders of those little accounts. Especially did my pity 
 flow towards my landlady. I knew she quite relied on 
 receiving from me full twenty dollars. I thought, at 
 first, that I would give her my note at thirty days ; but 
 then I felt certain she would ask the bank to discount 
 it. And the idea of having " our directors " sitting 
 in solemn council over my poor note, was ridiculous. 
 " No, no," I said, " a bank clerk must n t give notes, 
 that s certain."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 225 
 
 "When the hour for closing the bank came, I found that 
 I was behindhand with my work. I hastened, therefore, 
 to finish it. It was long, however, after the other clerks 
 had gone home that I brought my duties to an end. At 
 length my year s work was finished. And as I laid my 
 weary head on the desk, over which I had bent for more 
 than a dozen years, I thought how like an arithmetic had 
 been my life ! Nothing but figure added to figure in all 
 those years. I had fingered gold, and silver, and notes, 
 an unknown but vast amount, and now, of all this, what 
 was mine ? I crumpled the note I held within my fingers 
 with a nervous grasp, which, had it been a living thing, 
 would have made it shriek aloud. I gazed about the 
 apartment, as though I should have liked to find the 
 president, or cashier, or some one of the directors, on 
 whom I might vent my anger; but my eyes only en 
 countered the wrinkled face of the old black man, 
 who sat beside the stove, patiently waiting my departure, 
 that he might bar the window-shutters and lock the outer 
 doors. 
 
 As I passed out, the hearty " Happy New Year " uttered 
 by faithful Old Tom, helped to lighten my grief. I felt 
 still more relieved when, just as I stepped on the sidewalk, 
 I heard the bells of Trinity chiming the hour ; for they 
 recalled to my mind the hymn which on Christmas Day the 
 same chimes rung forth, proclaiming " on earth peace, 
 good-will to men." With this remembrance, joy returned 
 to my heart, and it was with a light step that I mingled 
 with the crowd which glided up Broadway. 
 
 It was dusk when I turned down the side-street wherein 
 is located my boarding-house. As I mounted the three 
 flights of stairs leading to my room, I thought why, I can 
 not tell of my family in Utopia. It had been long since 
 I had seen them. I had been so engrossed by my daily 
 labors, that I had scarcely given them a thought. Now 
 however, perhaps because the year was so nigh its end, 
 
 15
 
 226 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 I recalled my wife s sweet looks, and my daughter .V 
 charming ways, and I resolved to pass New Year s Day 
 with them. 
 
 When I entered my apartment, I found a bright fire 
 burning within the grate. My easy chair was drawn in 
 front of it ; my dressing-gown rested across its back, and 
 my slippers lay on the soft rug. I felt that fairy fingers 
 had been at work. I stopped in the centre of the room, 
 and gazed curiously about. It seemed to me that pure 
 spirits were near. I thought I could detect the sound of 
 their rustling robes. I listened attentively, when forth 
 from the shadow of my great arm-chair sprung towards 
 me, encircling my neck in their fond embrace, my two chil 
 dren, Mary and Fanny. 
 
 How they had found their way to my apartment, from 
 their far-off home, I did not think to ask. I did, however, 
 for a moment, wonder whether they had escaped the prying 
 eyes of my landlady, in their passage through the halls 
 and staircases. But this was all forgotten in my joy at 
 beholding and clasping them to my heart. After they had 
 taken my hat and over-coat, and brought me my slippers 
 and dressing-gown, they seated me in the easy chair, and 
 then, climbing upon my knees, they placed their little 
 faces close to mine, and kissed me, first, as they said, for 
 dear mamma, and then, afterwards, for themselves. When 
 I asked why their good mother did not come with them, 
 Mary exclaimed, quickly, that mamma had sent them to 
 take papa to her ; while Fanny, laying her soft hand on 
 my cheek, whispered, " Dear papa will go with his little 
 darlings, will he not ? " Then Mary wanted to know 
 whether I knew that it was New Year s Eve, and straight 
 way proceeded to inform me that last Sunday night was 
 Christmas Eve, but that she did n t believe it, hardly ; for, 
 though both Fanny and herself hung up their stockings, 
 Santa Glaus failed to put anything in them ; and, for her 
 part, she thought that if it were really Christmas, the old
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 227 
 
 fellow would have given them something. Fanny was 
 quite shocked at hearing Mary call Santa Glaus " old 
 fellow," and said that she knew it was Christmas, for mam 
 ma had said so ; and if Santa Clans had n t given them 
 anything, she supposed it was because they were such very 
 little girls, that maybe he d forgotten them. And besides, 
 she added, they lived so far away from New York, that 
 perhaps he had no time to go to them. " Any ways," said 
 Mary, pouting her lips, " it was real mean in him." This 
 speech greatly frightened Fanny, who clung closer to me, 
 and asked if Santa Glaus ever got vexed with what little 
 girls said of him ? I replied that he sometimes did, but 
 he was of such a gentle disposition that he soon forgave 
 whatever naughty things they uttered. Mary hereupon 
 evinced quite a penitential spirit, and remarked that she 
 was sorry for what she had said ; but added, after a pause, 
 during which she seemed to have been considering the 
 matter, it was mean anyhow. I then told them I thought 
 the reason why they had obtained nothing on Christmas 
 was, that the good saint had not time to go to Utopia ; 
 " But I have no doubt," I continued, " in regard to his fill 
 ing your stockings to-night." 
 
 Here Fanny, I perceived, glanced about my room, and, 
 seeing no fireplace, immediately wished to know if Santa 
 Claus could get through the bars of a grate. After I had 
 satisfied her on this point, Mary immediately inquired 
 whether the old saint could become little, for I had once 
 told her that he was as large as Grandpa Gray. 
 When I had explained this matter to their entire satisfac 
 tion, they desired to know where would be the best place 
 to hang their stockings. Having decided this important 
 matter, Fanny exclaimed, with considerable feeling, that 
 they had forgotten to bring clean ones with them. This 
 for a moment cast a shadow over their fair faces. Mary, 
 however, was the first to recover. " Ho*! " said she, " these 
 I ve got on will be good enough for me." But Fanny s
 
 228 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 lip curled, the tears sprung to her eyes, and her voice 
 trembled, as she said that she could n t bear to have Santa 
 Glaus see her soiled stockings. No ! she d rather go 
 without anything than have him. Then I promised them 
 both that we would go out into Broadway, so soon as the 
 gas-lamps were lighted, to buy each a pair of nice new 
 stockings ; and in the mean time I would tell them a story. 
 This proposal so delighted Mary that she clapped her tiny 
 hands, while Fanny kissed me on the lips, and called me 
 her good papa. 
 
 " And here closes, my little ones," I said to the children 
 grouped around me, " the first part of our Christmas Nights 
 Entertainments. To-morrow evening I will tell you a 
 story within a story, being that of Merry Clochette, 
 which I related to my children in Utopia."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Story within a Story. " Merry Clochette." Misses Vane. Lite Eod, 
 Esquire. A Yellow Gown. Messrs. Chimes. A Young Clergyman- 
 Two Pigeons. Monsieur Horloge. Keeping Watch. 
 
 HE following evening, as soon as we had gone 
 to the library from the dinner-table, Miss Em., 
 even before I had lighted my cigar, importuned 
 me to go on with my story of " My Children in Utopia," 
 arid especially to remember that I promised to tell them a 
 story within a story, entitled, " Merry Clochette." So, as 
 the little ones were all ears, I commenced as follows : 
 
 " Once on a time, no matter when, there dwelt, no 
 matter where, a young lady of French extraction, named 
 Clochette, Merry Clochette, the good neighbors, who 
 loved to hear her voice, called her. There were others, 
 however, not so partial to her, who spoke of her as noisy 
 Clochette ; and a few, even, I am sorry to say, who said 
 that, after all, she was no better than a brazen belle. These 
 last were certainly ill-natured persons, and ought to have 
 been ashamed of themselves." 
 
 Hereupon Fanny said she thought they would have 
 been. 
 
 " Strange as it may seem," I continued, " the home of 
 Merry Clochette was high up in the tower of an old 
 church." 
 
 " How nice that must have been ! " said Mary. 
 
 " Here, indeed, she passed all her time ; but, though 
 she led so solitary a life, Mademoiselle Clochette was a 
 very talkative little body. Her tongue was in almost con 
 stant motion. If there were anything of importance going
 
 230 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 on in the neighborhood, she was sure to be the first to 
 bruit it abroad. No one could get married but she learned 
 the news as soon as any ; and then you could hear her 
 voice ringing through the clear air, telling it over and over 
 to every one who would listen. Or, if a baby were to be 
 christened, she had its name at her tongue s end, only she 
 could n t always pronounce it properly, though she often 
 came pretty near to doing so. Then, too, when any one 
 died, she was about the first that told it, and would name 
 with great accuracy, the number of years the deceased 
 had lived." 
 
 Fanny here remarked, she thought Miss Merry must 
 have been a very curious lady to have known all these 
 affairs ; while Mary said she guessed the lady must have 
 been very inquisitive, and asked a great many questions. 
 I answered simply by telling them to listen, and proceeded. 
 
 " On all occasions of rejoicing on May-days and on 
 Christmas Mademoiselle Clochette was certain to be 
 very merry and talkative ; and if at any time a house, or 
 even a rough shed, chanced to be on fire, she made noise 
 enough to wake everybody within hearing. Dwelling so 
 high above the earth, she had a fine opportunity to behold 
 all that went on below her ; so that it is not to be won 
 dered at that she talked a great deal. Yet it is conceded 
 by all that she never uttered a sound unless she was re 
 quested so to do." 
 
 Mary thought this very strange ; but Fanny said not a 
 word. 
 
 " Oh ! " I continued, " she was very much of a lady, and 
 belonged, I assure you, to a high-toned family, one that 
 occupied rather an exalted position in society. She was 
 connected, too, with the Vane family, very aristocratic 
 people, some of which held the highest places in the 
 church. They are, however, rather a fickle, changeable 
 set, and would be likely any day to turn on her a cold 
 shoulder. She is connected with them by marriage. Her
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 231 
 
 cousin, L. Rod, Esq., a tall, thin young man, who rose 
 from a position far below her, had succeeded in consum 
 mating a matrimonial connection with one of the Misses 
 Vane, a young lady bedizened with a large amount of gilt. 
 Lite Rod considered this a great alliance, and often, espe 
 cially on windy nights, alluded to it in the presence of his 
 cousin Merry. She was not, however, too well pleased 
 with his boastings, and used sometimes to tell him that, 
 though his head might be in the clouds, yet his feet were, 
 nevertheless, in the earth ; which was true enough. When- 
 
 O 
 
 ever Merry said this to him, he retorted by replying that 
 she herself owed the position she occupied to a scaffolding 
 and a rope ; which, lamentably enough, was just as he 
 represented. But I cannot now explain this matter, for 
 t is a long story, and, indeed, will scarcely bear repeating." 
 
 Mary here expressed considerable curiosity to know why 
 it would not bear repeating ; but Fanny cried, " Hush ! 
 listen to what papa chooses to tell us." So I kissed little 
 Fanny on her lips, and patted, half reprovingly, half 
 caressingly, my Mary s silken hair. 
 
 " But for all this," I said, continuing my story, " Miss 
 Merry was quite a lady, and wore always a yellow gown, 
 nearly the color of gold, which, when the sun shone full 
 on it, you would have declared was really made from that 
 precious metal." 
 
 " How fine a sight she must have been ! " exclaimed 
 Mary. " And so lady-like," added Fanny. 
 
 " Of course, Mademoiselle Clochette, who had been a 
 belle a great many years, had not been without many ad 
 mirers. Yes, there were the three brothers, the Messrs. 
 Chimes, who lived in a new stone tower, about half a mile 
 distant from Merry, who were all desperately in love with 
 her. Such delightful serenades as they gave her on sum 
 mer evenings, and such strange, wild stories as they told 
 her o winter nights, were very wonderful. But these ser 
 enades and stories had no effect on Merry Clochette. She
 
 232 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 either turned quite a deaf ear to tliem, or else she mocked 
 them with such silvery sounding laughter as made them 
 believe their singing was most discordant. Poor fellows ! 
 
 O O 
 
 they took her coolness quite to heart ; and one by one 
 their voices became cracked and harsh, till at last they fell 
 from the tower, lost the use of their tongues, and never 
 uttered a loud word afterward. When Merry heard of 
 their accident, she was quite doleful for three whole days, 
 and then, on the fourth, she forgot all about them." 
 
 Fanny thought this very cruel in Miss Clochette, and 
 came near crying ; but Mary shook her curls, and laughed 
 outright. 
 
 " Then again," I went on, " there was the old sexton, 
 who lived close by ; he used on sunny afternoons to 
 climb up in the tower, and, sitting by her side, rest his 
 poor old head on her breast. Though he never really told 
 her that he loved her, yet she knew it by the glances and 
 sighs he gave her. But, because he was an old man, gray- 
 haired, and wrinkled, and bent, and, moreover, had buried 
 such a number of wives, more than a hundred, I have 
 heard, she never gave him the least encouragement. 
 Still, she enjoyed his society very much, and often be 
 guiled his weary old heart from sadness by her merry 
 tones." 
 
 Fanny said that she should have dearly loved the old 
 sexton, if he were anything like dear Grandpa Gray. But 
 Mary remarked that she should n t care to marry him for 
 all that, for he was too much like Blue-Beard. 
 
 " Besides him, my little ones," I continued, " there was 
 the young clergyman that officiated in the church, who, in 
 the early mornings, often visited her, and read aloud his 
 sermons for the coming Sabbath. These were very in 
 structive and interesting for Merry to hear ; but I don t 
 think she profited by them one bit." 
 
 " How shameful in her," said Fanny. 
 
 " Because," I continued, not heeding the interruption,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 233 
 
 " she was so much occupied in watching his handsome face. 
 Then he possessed such mild looks, and his voice was so 
 soft, and he had such winning ways, withal, that she was 
 quite charmed, and became, before she was aware of it, 
 very much in love with the gentle clergyman. But he did 
 not once suspect this in her, because he was so much en 
 gaged doing his Master s work." 
 
 Mary spoke here, and said that she could have loved 
 him, but not the old sexton. 
 
 " Merry Clochette, I think, acted very wisely in the 
 matter, and when she perceived that he cared not for her, 
 she straightway determined to forget him. To enable her 
 the sooner and better to do this, she resolved to occupy 
 her time in some cheerful manner. Luckily for her, two 
 pigeons had built their nest on the cross-beam just over 
 her head ; and it became her great delight to watch them, 
 and study their life and habits. Oh, they were a source of 
 great comfort to Merry Clochette, for 
 
 Summer and winter those birds were there, 
 Out and in, in the morning air. 
 
 And so, little by little, she came to forget the young clergy 
 man. 
 
 " Yet, poor little thing ! she could not help but feel 
 lonely, sometimes, up there in the old tower, and greatly 
 desired some one to love." 
 
 " Had she no papa, or mamma, or grandpa, whom she 
 could love ? " asked Fanny. 
 
 " No," I said ; " she was all alone, and never knew 
 what it was to have a parent." 
 
 " Poor Merry ! " cried Fanny, and the tears stood in her 
 eyes ; while Mary exclaimed, " Poh ! don t cry, Fan. ; it s 
 only a story." 
 
 " Simpleton ! that Merry Clochette was," I proceeded, 
 " she did not know that in the apartment directly below 
 her dwelt a gentleman, Monsieur Horloge, who for
 
 234 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 years had thought and spoken only of her. But, as he 
 was a most bashful youth, he had never dared to show his 
 face in her presence. Indeed, he kept his hands con 
 stantly before it, and no one could prevail on him to take 
 them away." 
 
 " What a foolish man ! " exclaimed Mary. 
 
 " Sometimes he was quite run down and low-spirited ; 
 besides, he was disposed to be quarrelsome, and never hesi 
 tated to strike one, if he thought proper so to do. So 
 that, after all, it was just as well, perhaps, that little Merry 
 did not know him ; for I don t believe they would, if they 
 had married, have dwelt happily together. He would, I 
 am certain, have been always striking ; while she, for her 
 part, would have told something concerning him every 
 hour. Still it was sad to hear him muttering to himself 
 all day and all night, never ceasing a single minute, and 
 all because he was so desperately in love with Merry Clo- 
 chette." 
 
 " How very pitiful ! " said Fanny, clasping her little 
 hands, and looking into my face. 
 
 " At last, one Christmas Day, a personage, very grand- 
 looking, wrapped in costly furs, came in a sleigh, drawn by 
 reindeers, to visit Mademoiselle Clochette. Her cousin, 
 Lite Rod, Esq., led him up to her room. Here he sat by 
 her side so long, and laid his gloved hand so caressingly 
 upon her yellow gown, that all the neighbors, who, of 
 course, were watching, declared that Merry Clochette had 
 a beau." 
 
 Fanny hereupon clapped her hands, and said she was 
 glad of it ; while Mary added, she guessed Miss Clochette 
 was glad enough too. 
 
 " Through the short afternoon, and far into the cold 
 night, the idle neighbors kept watch ; some, provided with 
 spy-glasses, and lunettes, and bits of smoked glass, stationed 
 themselves at their windows, and gazed with earnest eyes 
 into the tower. Others, still more curious, sent their little
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 235 
 
 boys to climb the tall trees that grew beside the tower, 
 where, lodged in the branches, they could note all that 
 passed ; but none of them, I am happy to state, saw any 
 thing improper, or which the most fastidious maiden would 
 not have permitted her lover. 
 
 " At length, however, the neighbors grew quite sleepy, 
 and one by one they put out the lights in their houses ; and 
 the little boys, numb and chill, slid down the trees and 
 went home, and soon all the village were in bed. Then, 
 when everybody was asleep, the grand personage in furs 
 it was no other than Santa Glaus himself/ (here Fanny 
 clapped her hands, and Mary shouted with glee,) " took 
 little Merry by the hand, dressed in her yellow gown, which 
 looked like gold, and assisted her down the winding stairs, 
 and placed her safely in his cushioned sleigh, amid the 
 costliest furs. Only the Man in the Moon looked down on 
 them. Monsieur Horloge held his hands steadily before 
 his face, and did not give them so much as a parting 
 glance. Mr. L. Rod and his pretty wife lately Miss 
 Vane were dreaming, one of the wind, and the other of 
 thunder-clouds. The young clergyman was kneeling at 
 the bedside of the old sexton, who was just breathing his 
 last ; while the two pigeons, with their heads folded under 
 their wings, were resting side by side. 
 
 " Little Merry s heart beat fast as the sleigh glided 
 swiftly away from the foot of the old church-tower ; but 
 Santa Glaus drew her closely to his side, and, whispering 
 softly in her ears, declared that she, and she alone, should 
 ever be his bride. 
 
 " Then he loudly exclaimed, ere they vanished from 
 sight, Little folks, peace be with you ! Good-night, oh ! 
 good- night. 
 
 " And here closes," I said, rising from my chair and tak 
 ing a position on the rug, with my back to the fire, " the 
 second part of our Holiday Nights Entertainments ; and 
 now I desire to say a few words."
 
 236 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 " Mr. Gray," interrupted my wife, " pray don t destroy 
 the pleasant impression left on our minds through your 
 story, by getting off anything prosaic in the way of a 
 speech. I can always tell, when you assume that not very 
 polite position on the rug, that you are intending to de 
 liver something very dull and stupid." 
 
 Miss Floy, too, seemed to have the same opinion regard 
 ing the affair as my wife ; for she, while Mrs. Gray was 
 speaking, without giving the children an opportunity to 
 thank me and say good-night, hurried them out of the 
 room, and went herself along with them. 
 
 Thereupon, having no audience, I yielded to my wife s 
 entreaties, and forebore to make the learned remarks con 
 cerning the festival of Christmas, its origin, antiquity, and 
 the manner of keeping it by different nations, which I had 
 proposed to myself to set forth. 
 
 As I passed to my own room an hour or two later, after 
 having seen that old Santa Claus filled the children s stock- 
 
 O 
 
 ings in an appropriate manner, I stopped in the nursery, 
 and kissed the two little girls asleep in their bed, and the 
 boy asleep in his, and wished them, and all good children 
 everywhere, a merry Christmas.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Christmas Day. Utopia. Our President. Gold vs. Greenbacks. In 
 the Toy-store. Prayers. Night. Morning. A Pleasant Check. 
 Our Bank. Breakfast. Off to Utopia. The Balloon. "Tress." 
 The Dead Babe. Mamma. Carol. The Awakening. 
 
 CHRISTMAS Day came and went, and the children, 
 who had enjoyed themselves exceedingly in exam 
 ining their various presents, in going down to the 
 Bronx to skate, and in doing much snow-balling and slid 
 ing down-hill, were so wearied when evening came, that 
 they failed to ask me to continue the story commenced the 
 night before ; but the following night they were wide awake, 
 and, shortly after dinner, before I had finished reading the 
 evening papers, gave me to understand that they were 
 waiting for me to celebrate another Holiday Evening s En 
 tertainment. Thereupon, putting aside the evening paper, 
 I began as follows : 
 
 MY FAMILY IN UTOPIA. 
 
 " WHAT nice stories you tell, papa," exclaimed Fanny, 
 as soon as I finished; "how I love to sit on your knee, 
 and listen to you. Don t you think they are beautiful, 
 Mary ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Mary ; " but I think I like Hans Ander 
 sen s better. His are much more funny ; and then, you 
 can read them yourself; and his book, too, is full of pict 
 ures. Pa, tell another one ; will you ? " 
 
 But I pointed out to my little daughters the gas-lights 
 shining in the streets, and told them we would now go to
 
 238 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Broadway, and make our Christmas purchases. So, quickly 
 they wrapped their pretty mantles around themselves, and, 
 each placing a trusting hand in mine, we descended to 
 the street. As we turned into the noisy thoroughfare of 
 Broadway, I nearly upset " our President," who, with his 
 fur-caped cloak gathered about his face, rushed blindly 
 towards me. He paused a moment ; adjusted his hat, 
 which the encounter had slightly displaced ; peered at me 
 a moment through his gold-bowed spectacles ; apologized 
 for his part of the accident ; wished my little ones a 
 " Happy New Year," and passed on his solitary way. I say 
 solitary, because he is a bachelor, and possesses neither 
 wife nor little ones. It was evident to me that he failed 
 to recognize, in the proud father with the two little girls, a 
 toiling clerk of the bank in which he held the highest 
 rank. He was rich in worldly goods ; but, poor as I was, I 
 deemed myself wealthier, in the possession of my two price 
 less jewels, than he would dare dream of being. 
 
 Somewhere about Houston Street we stepped into a 
 hosiery establishment, to purchase the new stockings. It 
 was amusing to me to notice the airs Miss Mary put on 
 while making a selection. These were too coarse ; those 
 too large ; and others, again, not long enough. Fanny, 
 on the contrary, was pleased with the first pair shown 
 her. " They matched," she said, " so well her blue dress 
 and hood." 
 
 At last Mary found a red pair, just the color of her 
 cloak ; and so, having paid for them out of my slender 
 purse, we passed down Broadway. As we went on our way, 
 there was scarce a window ablaze with light before which 
 we did not stop. Had my purse been filled with gold in 
 stead of the few " greenbacks " it contained, it would not 
 have bought all my little ones desired. Now it was some 
 thing I must get for "dear mamma;" then something for 
 myself; while Mary must needs want a whole window-ful 
 at once, often containing articles which she never would
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 239 
 
 have known what to do with. Fanny, however, was more 
 moderate in her desires, and only wished for particular 
 articles. I noticed, though, that she always selected such 
 as were the most costly, while Mary wanted everything, 
 with little regard either to quality or cost. 
 
 When we reached the toy-store, my little ones were half 
 crazed with delight. Such wonderful wax-dolls, and tea 
 sets, and bureaus, and bedsteads, and hundreds of other 
 things, were, surely, never before seen. I managed while 
 they were both engaged in examining a miniature play-house, 
 to make several purchases, unseen by them ; and placing 
 the dainty packages in the capacious pockets of my coat, 
 we turned to retrace our steps. After a slight halt at a 
 confectioner s, and a further pause at a book-store, where, at 
 each place, I secretly added to my hidden hoard, we reached 
 again my boarding-place. To be sure, my purse was now 
 very light, but my pockets were heavy, and my children s 
 hearts were full of happiness. I felt pleased, however, 
 that I did not encounter the landlady, on my way up the 
 stairs. The sight of her pale, careworn face would have 
 sadly discomforted me. It would have reminded me 
 of my bankruptcy. Though such thoughts as these came 
 across my mind, they were quickly put to flight, when I 
 reached my room, by the merry laughter of my precious 
 ones. 
 
 When the new stockings were carefully hung up, and 
 I had arranged a bed on the lounge for my little dar 
 lings, I seated them on my knees, and told tales of the 
 old years past. I told what I did, when, a little boy, I 
 used to hang up my stocking, and believed in good old 
 Santa Glaus. 
 
 Mary wanted to know why I did n t hang it up still ; and 
 Fanny asked whether I had ceased to believe in Santa 
 Glaus. When I had satisfied them on these points, it was 
 time to go to bed. So, after they had repeated their 
 prayers prayers their mother taught them and had
 
 240 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 sung a little hymn. I heard the echo of that mother s 
 voice throughout it, they kissed me a good-night kiss, 
 and a few moments afterwards were nestled snugly in their 
 bed. When the sand-man who always goes before 
 Santa Glaus had dropped sand upon their eyes, and 
 before I had myself gone to bed, I beheld the old saint 
 carefully fill their stockings, and then, directly after, I my 
 self retired. 
 
 But 1 never shall forget not if I live to be very old 
 indeed how singularly Santa Glaus was attired. He 
 had on a long white robe perhaps it was trimmed with 
 fur that almost reached the floor ; a pair of blue velvet 
 slippers, embroidered with gold braid, were on his feet ; 
 while his head was adorned with a red silk cap, orna 
 mented by a gilt tassel. When he had performed his allot 
 ted work, he kissed my little girls, put out the gas, and that 
 was the last I saw of him for that night. 
 
 With the first rays of the morning of the new year, I 
 was aroused by soft whispering ; and then I heard the 
 patter of bare feet on the chamber floor, as my little girls 
 hastened to their stockings. I remained very quiet ; for it 
 was pleasant to hear their expressions of delight and as 
 tonishment as they drew forth from their stockings the 
 various articles they contained. 
 
 " See," exclaimed Mary ; " here is the very wax-doll that 
 we saw at the toy-store. I know it," she continued, " by 
 its pink dress and blue eyes. Is n t it beautiful ? " 
 
 " And here," shouted Fanny, " is the work-box we ad 
 mired so much. Don t you remember the little round 
 piece of looking-glass in the centre of the cover ? How 
 kind in Santa Glaus to get us exactly what we wished for ! 
 is n t it, Mary ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Mary, " if it were really Santa Glaus 
 who gave them to us ; but don t you believe, Fan., that, 
 after all, it was papa ? " 
 
 Fanny had never considered the matter ; it was some-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 241 
 
 thing to think about ; so she simply replied, she did n t 
 know ; she was evidently very much perplexed and dis 
 turbed in her mind by this new suggestion of Mary s ; so 
 a silence ensued, and during its continuance I again fell 
 asleep. 
 
 When I awoke, the sun was shining into my room, the 
 children were dressed, and had arranged on the centre- 
 table their various gifts, for my inspection. It was delight 
 ful for me to hear their many expressions of pleasure, as 
 they showed me their new treasures. They were in haste, 
 too, to get home, so that mamma could share in their pleas 
 ure. There was enough left in my purse, I found, to treat 
 them to a simple breakfast, and pay for our conveyance 
 to my castle in Spain, from whence the balloon started. 
 From there to Utopia no money is required. The balloon 
 is, with one exception, free for all who choose to travel in 
 it. The exception is this : no man who has much money 
 in his pocket is permitted therein. In fact, the less wealth 
 a man has, the better the accommodations that are given 
 him. I felt certain that that morning I should be received 
 with much honor and a cordial welcome, and would be shown 
 to a very distinguished place. This thought made me feel 
 very proud, but, as I descended the staircase, my pride was 
 doomed to a sad fall. I regretted it more than I rejoiced 
 over the receipt of that which caused it. Just as I was 
 going down the third flight of stairs, I encountered Old 
 Tom, the porter of " our bank," coming up. He held a 
 letter in his hand, addressed to me. My hand, I re 
 marked, trembled almost as much as did his, at the mo 
 ment I took the letter. I feared that I had run my course 
 as a bank clerk, and that the letter contained my dismissal. 
 I was afraid that, somehow, my literary labors had reached 
 the ears of the directors, and I knew what such knowledge 
 would result in. It was, therefore, with a somewhat quick 
 ened pulse that I tore open the envelop, and unfolded the 
 sheet within, when, to my astonishment, there appeared, 
 16
 
 242 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 with the bold signature of the president at the bottom of 
 it, a check on the bank for one hundred dollars ; accom 
 panying which was a communication, to the effect that, in 
 consideration of the strict attention I had given, and the 
 correct manner I had performed, for many years, that par 
 ticular part of the business of the bank which it was my 
 duty to look to, the directors had, at a late meeting of the 
 board, unanimously agreed to increase my salary, and, at 
 the same time, had voted me one hundred dollars for a 
 New Year gift. 
 
 When I had fully assured myself that this good luck 
 had really befallen me, I emptied what little money my 
 purse held into Old Tom s open palm, and at the same time 
 gave him to understand that I considered the directors of 
 " our bank " had performed a very handsome act. When 
 I told my little ones, who had stood by me all the time, 
 what had befallen me, they evinced their joy in a very 
 simple yet happy manner ; they remarked that such news 
 would please their dear mamma, and both wished to be the 
 first to inform her of it. 
 
 I could not resist stepping into the breakfast-room, as I 
 passed along, to assure my good landlady that her little 
 bill would be paid on the morrow. Her countenance 
 brightened as I spoke, and a smile hovered about her pale 
 face, as she replied that it would be of great assistance to 
 her. She had feared, she added, from not having seen me at 
 supper the night previous, that, perhaps, I would not be able 
 to pay her. I suspected, from this remark, that she had 
 been a boarding-house keeper many years. It betrayed 
 experience in such matters ; her conclusions were logical 
 ones ; she reasoned from the effect back to the cause. 
 
 Then, wishing the quiet, but somewhat shrewd, woman 
 a merry Christmas, I rejoined my little ones, and, giving 
 each of them a hand, proceeded down Broadway to a quiet 
 saloon where we partook of a Christmas breakfast, made 
 merry to me by the joyous prattle of my children.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 243 
 
 Where we started from, or how we journeyed going to 
 my castle in Spain, I have no remembrance. My impres 
 sion, however, is, that we went in a one-horse gig, 
 though the horse may have been a pony, for the girls, I 
 think, drove him all the way. Had I been alone, I should 
 doubtless have borrowed the horse which General Wash 
 ington rides daily in Union Square. Perhaps some one 
 can tell me the course we took. I know we passed several 
 objects and places of note, the Castle of Indolence, 
 the Village of Dreamland, Reverie Lake, the Island of 
 the Seven Cities, the Valley of Poppies, the Mansion of 
 Happiness, the Vale of Arcadie, and El Dorado. For 
 tunately, there was a balloon just on the eve of starting for 
 Utopia when we reached my castle in Spain. Directly, 
 therefore, taking our places in it, we found ourselves, in an 
 incredibly short space of time, as it seemed to us, for we 
 slept most of the way, hovering above Utopia. There it 
 lay, in the soft sunshine and roseate light, nestled between 
 green hill-sides, it is always summer time in Utopia, a 
 picture of loveliness. There were to be seen woodbine- 
 covered cottages, and ivy-clad towers, and white, tapering 
 spires, and mirror-like lakes, and roaring brooks, and rustic 
 bridges, and a May-pole, and gayly robed children dancing 
 round it. As we drew nearer, sounds of music and sing 
 ing reached our ears. We could discern the features of 
 
 O 
 
 friends and neighbors ; and, by-and-by, Fanny exclaimed, 
 " See, papa ! see ! there s mamma crossing the green by 
 the May-pole ; she has recognized and is coming to meet us." 
 And Mary leaned far over the side of the balloon, and 
 waved her silken sash and mamma saw it, and, in turn, 
 waved her handkerchief and wafted kisses to us with her 
 hand. A few minutes more, and we stepped from the aerial 
 car, and were welcomed with kindly greetings and cheerful 
 words by those around us. Something more than these, 
 however, were mine, when I clasped my wife s hand ; for 
 -in Utopia ti? not considered either indelicate or out of
 
 244 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 place to kiss one s wife, when meeting after a long absence, 
 even though you be not sheltered beneath the roof-tree. 
 So, then, I kissed my wife, and she kissed me. The children, 
 too, were kissed ; and then, with our little packages of gifts 
 for mamma in our hands, we hastened home. Home ! t is a 
 goodly word to speak. It does not mean hotel or hospital, 
 boarding-place or restaurant, where you can simply eat, 
 drink, and sleep where you can keep your extra ward 
 robe, and spend your rainy Sundays ; but it means the 
 spot you were born in the house of your childhood 
 the place which contains your wife and all most dear to 
 you, and near to which, in the dim and far off future, you 
 pray that your grave may be. All this, and nothing 
 less, is home ; and to such a home we and our children 
 went. 
 
 Of course, there were many things which had occurred in 
 the months past that my wife and children found to tell 
 me. Changes had taken place in our little home, and 
 changes had occurred outside the garden palings. The 
 cat that had been ours from kittenhood, and portraits of 
 which the little ones had worked, with various-colored 
 worsteds, on magnificent samplers, was dead. The ca 
 naries, however, had thrived wonderfully, and raised two 
 full broods of young since St. Valentine s Day. And old 
 " Tress," the faithful Newfoundland dog, that had sum 
 mered on the front-door mat for many a year, had grown 
 lame and blind, and scarcely recognized the hand which 
 fed him. 
 
 Then, too, there had been marriages and deaths, for 
 people marry and die even in Utopia. My neighbors had 
 lost their little boy, just the age, when he died, of an angel- 
 child of ours ; and, as my wife told me of his death, the 
 tears traced each other down her cheeks, and I knew she 
 was thinking of our blessed boy. Years have gone by 
 since we laid him in his little grave, and Mary and Fanny 
 have both been given us since then; but neither, nor
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 245 
 
 both of them, can ever fill the void in his mother s heart 
 which the death of our precious boy caused. When she 
 rocked the other children in his cradle, she tried to make 
 herself believe that it was he who lay therein. Months 
 after his death, when the grass was green on his little 
 rave, she accidentally discovered behind the lounge, in 
 the closed and deserted nursery, a small red and white 
 worsted sock, which the baby, some day, in playing, had 
 kicked from his tiny foot, and which had there fallen and 
 been forgotten. My loved one nearly broke her heart 
 afresh, weeping over that bit of colored worsted. 
 
 And then, after a short pause, my wife told me of 
 another neighbor, whose daughter, a fair, blue-eyed girl, 
 on Christmas Eve, had become a bride, and left her 
 mother s hearth and home for a hearth and home of her 
 own. And straightway my mind went back to the day, 
 years and years agone, when I led my bride from the shel 
 ter of her father s house to the low-roofed cottage where 
 I dwelt. And, looking at her, the bride, the wife, the 
 mother, I asked myself if she had been happier in her 
 wedded life than she would have been had I not sought 
 
 O 
 
 her hand ? She seemed to read my thoughts ; for, raising 
 her dark eyes to me, she smiled one of her old sweet 
 smiles, and placing her hand in mind, with the other point 
 ing to our little ones, she said : " Children make a woman s 
 life complete ; the bride is happy, but the mother happiest 
 of all." Then, taking them by the hand and laughing, 
 often looking back and nodding in a merry way, she led 
 them from the room and me. 
 
 When they had gone, a cloud seemed to have swept 
 across the sun s disk ; shadows came out into the room 
 where before the sunshine lay, and wild, sharp pains shot 
 through my heart and brain. I thought, what if she and 
 they have passed from my sight forever ! I tried to drive 
 away the idea as foolish ; but it would not be driven away. 
 I tried to whistle it down with an air from " L Elisir
 
 246 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 d"Amore," but twould not be whistled down. At last I 
 took a prime Havana, and, lighting it, essayed to smoke 
 it out. This had the desired effect, and quickly soothed 
 me to a happy mood. Seating myself, then, in my easy 
 chair, I indulged in a little reverie : " Of a certainty," I 
 thought. " my lines have fallen to me in pleasant places." 
 I, though a simple bank clerk, am blessed with a fair and 
 loving wife, and two beauteous and dutiful children. The 
 latter are to me as milestones placed in the journey of life : 
 I have but to look at them, as year by year they advance 
 towards womanhood, to perceive how swiftly I am moving 
 on through life ; while the former, like the genial sun, 
 sheds a light on my path, and makes easy to walk what 
 would otherwise be a dark and rugged way. True, it is 
 seldom that we meet ; often months go by without our 
 seeing each other ; but then I enjoy with greater zest, I 
 suppose, their society, than I otherwise should. How much 
 better it is, too, for them to be here in Utopia, with its 
 delightful climate and sunny skies, than in the unhealthy 
 city, with its noise and dust, where I pass my clays. They 
 live in a continual sunshine : no clouds gather over their 
 blue sky ; no harsh November winds drive the dry leaves 
 about the garden walks ; nor do the frosts and snows of 
 January come to chill the currents in their veins. Ah ! 
 this Utopia is a delicious spot ; but, then, quien sabe ? 
 perhaps tis just as well for me not to be here alway. I 
 live, I know, a very stupid life in Gotham ; but it has its 
 advantages. There are there some bits of sunshine. I 
 
 O 
 
 find them when I go to the opera ; I basked in them while 
 Jenny Lind was there ; I mellowed in them, like a peach, 
 when Grisi cast a tuneful glory round ; and lately, while 
 listening to Thalberg s magic touch, a genial glow per 
 vaded my frame, and there was summer in my heart. T is 
 something, too, not much, perhaps, but something, 
 to go to the anniversary dinners given by the various soci 
 eties, and hear the toasts and speeches. I certainly do
 
 OUT OF TOWN 247 
 
 miss, however, on my return to my solitary quarters, the 
 voice of welcome from my wife ; but then, too, there is no 
 one to ask me where I have been, or what kept me out so 
 late. Oh, I am convinced that my " lines have fallen to 
 me in pleasant places." 
 
 At this moment the music of a sweet song reached my 
 ears. It was a carol for the New Year, sung by my wife 
 and daughters in the adjoining room. T was a simple 
 melody, an old, old song, one with which mothers, 
 for generations back, had hushed their babes to sleep ; yet 
 it brought the tears to my eyes, and wakened memories 
 which had lain dormant in my bosom, hidden beneath 
 cares, and jealousies, and disappointed hopes, and broken 
 resolutions, and unfulfilled acts, since I sat at my mother s 
 feet, a child in mind and years. What, to me, was the 
 " Echo Song" of Jenny Lind, or the " Casta Diva " of Grisi, 
 compared with this humble melody ? Unconsciously, my 
 voice united with my loved ones in that childlike song, and 
 I was on the point of joining the singers, when a hand was 
 laid on my arm, and a voice exclaimed : " Mister Gray, you 
 most got dem figgers added up, so dat dis ole darkey can 
 go long home to him wife Charity ? She bin spectin me 
 now dis night more n one hour. She and me got siderable 
 marketin to do for de-morrow, and I sartinly spect I can t 
 go from dis bank till I se locked all de doors." 
 
 " Where," said I, turning round on my seat, and seizing 
 hold of Old Tom, " where is Mrs. Gray and my children ? " 
 
 " Lor bless me, Mister Gray," shouted Thomas, " you be 
 crazy for sartin ! you got no Missus Gray, and no children, 
 conskently you must be berry crazy for to talk dis fashion. 
 I guess you bin sleep and dreaming, sir." 
 
 " Thomas," I asked, now fully awake, " Thomas, what 
 time is it ? " 
 
 " Just zactly seven o clock P. M. by de Trinity Church, 
 tho my ronometer," answered Tom, " make it ten minute 
 more." 
 
 I started up from my desk, put my books carefully away,
 
 248 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 placed what little money I possessed in my pocket, remem 
 bering, as I did so, that my landlady was paid a month in 
 advance only the week before, and that sundry other little 
 bills were settled ; and, giving Tom a quarter, I drew on 
 my gloves, and the next moment was walking briskly to 
 wards Broadway. 
 
 That evening a cosey, bachelor party assembled in my 
 rooms ; a few games of whist were played ; a few bowls of 
 punch were brewed ; and, though wifeless and childless, 
 yet, when I came to lay my head on my solitary pillow, I 
 could not but own that " my lines had fallen to me in 
 pleasant places." 
 
 " My dear," exclaimed my wife, the moment I finished 
 reading the above, " why will you forever be talking about 
 punches in your writings, when, if you were to tell the 
 truth, you would say that punches, either hot or cold, sel 
 dom are to be found on our mahogany ? " 
 
 " Well," I replied, " if you fail to observe them, I shall 
 not call your attention to their presence ; but the fact is, 
 that most of these punches are concocted when you have 
 retired from the scene of your daily labors, and are quietly 
 enjoying that repose which arises from possessing a clear 
 conscience. And now, my dear, as I know that you and 
 Miss Floy and the children must be wearied and sleepy, I 
 would advise you and them to retire to your virtuous 
 couches, while I remain up to attend to balancing the 
 year s accounts." 
 
 Miss Floy hereupon said that she feared I would not be 
 able to balance myself when I went to bed, if they should, 
 thus early in the evening, leave me to my own devices. 
 
 My wife and little ones also protested against deserting 
 the library thus early in the evening ; and so, to keep 
 them awake, I consented to engage in a game of blind- 
 man s-buff, which we pursued, much to the endangerment 
 of our several heads and the damage of sundry pieces of 
 furniture.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Around the Library Lamp. Utopia again. Ten Years ago. Louise. 
 Days of my Boyhood. The old, old Story. "A Tress of Golden 
 Hair." Foolish Memories. " Our Florence." The Old Chateau. 
 The good Old Man. " Beyond." The Churchyard. Ebb and Flow. 
 " Marriage-bells." A little Discourse. 
 
 sooner was the evening lamp lighted in the 
 library the following night, than the little folks 
 besieged me with entreaties to finish the story of 
 my family in Utopia, and as their mother and Miss Floy 
 joined them in asking me, I put my newspaper aside, and, 
 lighting my cigar, prepared to continue it. 
 
 Miss Em. whispered to me as I was waiting for them 
 all to get properly seated and quiet, before commencing, 
 that she hoped it would end well, as she very much disliked 
 to have a story end badly. 
 
 I promised her that the end should be satisfactory, and 
 if only Miss Floy wotild stop rustling her silks in the 
 frightful way she was then doing, and would sit quietly in 
 her chair, I would commence. 
 
 Miss Floy evidently overheard me, for she immediately 
 rustled her dress still more, and moved her chair to the 
 opposite side of the room ; then, as if perfectly satisfied 
 with having sufficiently annoyed me, she said, " Now, Mr. 
 Gray, that we are ready, why don t you begin ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, begin," cried my wife. 
 
 And " Begin," echoed each of the children. 
 
 And as I could do nothing else, I proceeded as follows : 
 
 More than a year, my little ones, is supposed to have 
 elapsed since I last visited my precious family in Utopia.
 
 250 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 My duties as a bank clerk in Wall Street have been so 
 arduous during the past season that I have had scarcely a 
 day in the whole period which I could call mine own. Once, 
 during the month of June, on the anniversary of my mar 
 riage, I was on the point of starting for Utopia, and had 
 even placed in my hat a clean collar to take with me, and 
 purchased a pair of white kid gloves, and silk stockings, 
 striped with blue, for the same purpose, when I was de 
 barred from going by being subpoenaed as a witness in an 
 important lawsuit, wherein our bank was the defendant. 
 Had it not been for this, I should have visited my family 
 the fifteenth day of last June. Ten years ago, from this 
 very date, I married my sweet wife, the mother of my chil 
 dren. I sometimes doubt whether so many years have 
 elapsed since that happy event, fraught with numberless 
 blessings, transpired. It is only when I look on my two 
 children, Mary and Fanny, and mark how rapidly they are 
 approaching womanhod, (Mary, the elder of the two, can 
 but just pass under her mother s arm, when raised, without 
 disturbing the smooth and evenly parted hair, while Fanny s 
 flaxen curls reach that mother s waist,) that I fully realize 
 the flight of time. 
 
 Dwelling, as I do, apart from my family, and months 
 often elapsing without my beholding them, doubts some 
 times arise in my mind, whether, after all, I am really a 
 husband and father ; or, if it be not simply a dream, well 
 defined, indeed, and like reality ; but still only a dream, 
 a very myth. At such times I have recourse to the old 
 family Bible, which, for safety, I keep at the bottom of an 
 oaken chest that one of my sailor progenitors a very sea- 
 king he was, too, hailing from the island of Nantucket 
 carried with him during many voyages around the world, 
 and turning to the record of births, marriages, and deaths, 
 I read there, in my proper handwriting, the date of my 
 own marriage, and likewise the record of the birth of each 
 of my three children, and also of the death of the eldest
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 251 
 
 born. Even this evidence fails to satisfy me altogether, 
 and I am disposed to question my senses, and ask of 
 myself whether there be not an error in the dates, and if 
 there did not once exist another than myself who bore 
 the name I bear, of whose marriage and children I am 
 reading. 
 
 Of course, too, at such times I fall to speculating as to 
 who I really am, and wondering whether or not Louise, 
 my early love, who died years on years ago, and lies 
 buried far away in a southern clime, in an old churchyard, 
 under a spreading palm, which is ever green, as is my 
 memory of her, both summer and winter ; and whose grave 
 is marked by a marble slab, on which is carved, in raised 
 letters, simply her name and the number of years (eigh 
 teen) she dwelt on earth, be not, after all, my wife ; and 
 whether we do not live together in the cottage, down in 
 the Valley, where once we hoped to dwell, about the porch 
 of which trailing vines, and roses, and honeysuckles cluster, 
 and where wild bees hum all the summer through, and 
 robins and orioles sing ; and whether there be not two 
 brave and sturdy boys the comfort and pride of their 
 mother, and the pride and comfort of their father who 
 are our sons ; and whether, moreover, my own surname be 
 not the same that she, the vanished hope of my early man 
 hood, bore, ere she became an angel among angels. 
 
 But such fancies as these do not often come to perplex 
 me ; they arise only when I, in a dreamy mood, am seated 
 alone in my own apartment, in the fourth story of our 
 boarding-house, on summer nights, listening to the pleas 
 ant rustle of the leaves on the trees just outside my 
 window, and watching the white-winged clouds that, like 
 fairy ships, float in the quiet moonlight. Then it is that I, 
 on these sail! ess and oarless vessels, fantastic and ever- 
 changing in their shapes, having no chart or map by which 
 to sail, possessing no compass or rudder with which to 
 guide their course, and bound to no known port, go back
 
 252 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 over oceans of departed years, and rounding capes of 
 half-sunken memories, enter, through narrow channels of 
 thought, havens of blessed rest; and there, in these 
 olden resting-places, do I find my Louise, and, sitting be 
 side her as of yore, clasping her hand, I listen to words 
 such as no earthly voice can utter. 
 
 Then the days come back of my boyhood ; then, too, the 
 days return to her girlhood, and again we seem to 
 wander in the woods together ; we gather wild flowers on 
 the hill-sides and on the borders of the running brooks ; 
 
 O 
 
 we search for strawberries along the edges of the woods, 
 while I cavalierly fill her basket in preference to my own, 
 and receive a smile for my reward. I help her to cross 
 the stream, laying down stepping-stones for her to pass it 
 without soiling the soles of her little shoes, and still 
 my guerdon is a smile. I assist her to scale rail-fences, 
 moss-grown and decayed, and to scramble through thickets 
 of tall underbrush, dangerous with sharp thorns and prickly 
 briers, and to step carefully over beds of tangled grass and 
 waving fern, made fearful through truant school-boys 
 stories of poisonous snakes therein encountered, and my 
 only guerdon still remains a smile. But, by-and-by, seated 
 on a gray rock beneath a leafy elm, I tell her tales which 
 smack of the marvellous, and are redolent of fairies and 
 such ilk ; and, little by little, I draw nearer to her side, and 
 let my arm slide softly round her yielding waist, and, clasp 
 ing her little hands in mine, then and there I tell her, in a 
 boyish fashion, shamefaced and stammering, how much I 
 love her ; and she, the while blushing as rosy as the berries 
 in her basket, pouts her red lips and taps the green turf 
 with her dainty feet, until at last, half coaxed by me, half 
 of her own accord, she turns her peach-bloomed cheek 
 for me to kiss. 
 
 From that same hour, eight years, through summers and 
 through winters, in sun and in storm, was she the sunshine 
 of my days, the starlight of my nights, till, passing hence
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 253 
 
 through doors that only open outward, she became the bow 
 of promise to my future life. 
 
 I have a tress of golden hair, 
 
 I keep it hidden in a book ; 
 And this in turn is hidden where 
 
 No eye but mine may on it look. 
 
 It ne er belonged to my sweet wife, 
 
 Her raven curls knew not its birth ; 
 Nor to the blessings of my life, 
 
 The household jewels around my hearth. 
 
 But down a girlish neck it fell, 
 
 My sainted love s of former years, 
 And never has it lost the spell 
 
 Of calling forth my holiest tears. 
 
 I sometimes leave my precious ones, 
 
 And go where orange-flowers bloom ; 
 Amidst the warmth of southern suns, 
 
 To muse beside my darling s tomb. 
 
 Long years have flown since there I laid 
 
 Her body softly down to rest, 
 And turning from that grave new made, 
 
 Left therein all 1 loved the best. 
 
 But time has healed the wound I thought 
 
 Could never during life be healed, 
 And seldom is a lifetime fraught 
 
 With greater joys than mine doth yield. 
 
 Yet oft I seek to count the days 
 
 That must elapse before we meet, 
 Ere I may tread the milk-white ways 
 
 Which she has walked with shining feet. 
 
 But away with these foolish memories that, in spite of 
 my manhood, in spite of my present happiness, come to 
 dim my eyes with tears, and fill my heart with thoughts 
 of bitterness. Let them vanish and return no more, even
 
 254 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 as her form has vanished from my sight, her footprints 
 from the green turf which once she trod. Let other 
 
 O 
 
 memories arise. The memory of the day when I led my 
 sweet-voiced wife, a young and blooming bride, out from 
 her father s house. Ten years have passed since then 
 ten years with, here and there, in the otherwise bright 
 woof of happiness, a grief heavy with tears. Sickness and 
 death have caused our tears to flow. Our boy the only 
 boy we had sickened and died. Our second child, with 
 fever burning in her heart and brain, lay tossing long 
 weeks upon her little cot, hovering twixt life and death, 
 while every moan and sob she uttered went like a sharp 
 ened arrow to our very souls ; but, God be praised ! a 
 mother s prayer was heard, and Azrael s hand was stayed. 
 Then it was that I, my heart moved by hopes and fears 
 and joys, wrote, 
 
 OUR FLORENCE. 
 
 WE VE a tiny, helpless, wailing one, whose age by weeks we 
 
 number, 
 
 A blue-eyed babe, a little girl, whose presence fills our life 
 With such happiness and pain as only parents hearts encumber, 
 
 For we know that she has entered a world of sin and strife ; 
 Where thorns spring up with flowers, and where shadows chase 
 
 the light, 
 Where for every day of summer comes a chilly winter night. 
 
 But with true and earnest thankfulness, her mother and myself 
 From the good and gracious Giver receive the precious one, 
 
 And to our bosoms tenderly we clasp the dainty elf, 
 
 And think t were hard to give her up and say, " Thy will bo 
 done." 
 
 For of our love the baby has so great and ricli a share 
 
 That it seems to us she ever had our watchfulness and care. 
 
 Oh, tis sweet to watch our baby and perceive how, day by day, 
 The light breaks through the darkness of her mind so infantile, 
 
 And shows itself to lookers-on in many a cunning way, 
 In playing with her fingers, or in learning how to smile, 
 
 Till we even think the pretty one begins to know and bless 
 
 The loving arms that hold her and the voices that caress.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 255 
 
 And when her little spirit seems within her breast to flutter, 
 And the golden bowl seems broken, and the silver cord seems 
 loosed; 
 
 And while, amid the darkness, seems Azrael s voice to utter, 
 In tone of warning, that our babe to us on earth is lost ; 
 
 We fail not to remember those glorious words of His, 
 
 Our Christ, who said of children, Of such my kingdom is. 
 
 But with our prayers all answered, comes the morning soft and 
 bright, 
 
 And like the dews of evening-time our tears have ceased to fall, 
 While the warm and precious sunshine makes a glory in our sight, 
 
 And the baby smiles and wonders at the shadows on the wall. 
 And I say unto her mother, as the tiny form I raise 
 From the couch where it is lying, Let us give our Maker praise. 
 
 Oft we look upon our baby, and we ask ourselves if she 
 
 Should she live to be a woman, with a woman s heart and mind 
 
 Will e er as firm and faithful, as good and patient be, 
 As the one for whom we ve named her, the best of womankind,. 
 
 Whom all the world is praising, who has found the Holy Grail, 
 
 While performing deeds of mercy, sweet FLORENCE NIGHTIN 
 GALE. 
 
 But more of sweetness than of bitterness has mingled in 
 our marriage-cup, and with hopeful and rejoicing hearts 
 do we look forward to future years, and beyond them 
 to eternity. But my thoughts glide on too fast. I would 
 go back again with memory to my wedding-day. 
 
 The father of my bride let not his only daughter pass 
 undowered from the shelter of his roof. She came to 
 me not penniless, but bringing with her, as a marriage 
 portion, a small estate a hundred goodly acres on 
 which the father, at some future day, purposed erecting 
 a chateau, something more stately than the home from 
 whence she came, in which we were to dwell, and wherein 
 he for age was stealing on him, bending his form and 
 silvering over his head could come to pass his last re 
 maining days. 
 
 The chateau never was built. The future day the old
 
 256 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 man looked for never came, though years flew on, and 
 he, seated within his easy chair, warmed his slippered feet 
 before my fire, rubbed his thin hands approvingly together, 
 pleased with the genial warmth, and drank with relish of 
 my wines, praising the same with every glass he drained. 
 Much talked he, too, of the proposed chateau, and weeks 
 and months he passed in drawing plans of it on paper. 
 He even went so far as to consult a noted architect re 
 garding it. A structure that this gentleman had built 
 the Castle, I believe, of Indolence, it is called seemed 
 similar, so far as I could gather, in many a feature, to that 
 my wife s good father thought some day to build. I have 
 no doubt myself but that, in twenty years or more, he 
 would at least have laid the corner-stone, provided that his 
 life thus long were spared. The generous, kind old man 
 appreciator of good wines and many other things as 
 good lived not to finish what was never begun, but died 
 one Christmas Day, eight years and something more after 
 I had made his only daughter wife. 
 
 I would myself have built the chateau, as the old man 
 thought of doing, in strict accordance with the best-drawn 
 plan his trembling hand had made, if I could find the 
 title-deeds to the estate, or register of them, in any hall 
 of record. But the whole matter seems tangled and dark, 
 and wrapt in mystery ; nor can a living soul in all the 
 land tell aught concerning it. It is true, I hold the place, 
 and it is mine by right possession gives, but who knows ? 
 if I should build thereon a charming chateau, with pinna 
 cles and towers, turrets and battlements, arched windows 
 and oak doors ; and, within, tall casements, wainscots 
 curiously carved, ceilings fretted and groined, and floors 
 with jasper and with sandal-wood inlaid, and many other 
 things of rare and strange device, whether, some rainy 
 day or other, there might not come from over seas, even 
 perchance from mountains in the moon, a stranger learned 
 and versed in all the law s strange quips and quirks, and
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 257 
 
 oust me out of this my fair domain ; or else a neighbor, 
 one I call my friend, might, peradventure, rise and claim 
 the whole, substantiating it with mouldy parchment deeds ! 
 Alas for me and mine if this should happen! and cer 
 tain am I that it would, if I should ever build ; and so, 
 in all this broad demesne, I dare not lay one stone above 
 another. 
 
 I will mention here that the estate itself lies at the 
 distance of a swallow s flight, be the same more or less, 
 from dear Utopia, within the boundaries of the country 
 known among landless but aerial proprietors as Spain. 
 
 A few months prior to the old man s death, I wrote, 
 at his desire, the lines below, descriptive of the country 
 wherein lay a goodly portion of his large possessions. My 
 wife has told me that he used to sit at twilight, with our 
 little ones upon his knees, before a deep-bayed window 
 looking west, within my cottage at Utopia, and then and 
 there repeat aloud his gaze fixed on the sunset clouds 
 my simple lines ; and thus, one Christmas Day he died. 
 
 BEYOND. 
 
 THERE is a country lying far away, 
 
 Beyond the outer bounds of this our earth, 
 Where never comes a dark or rainy day, 
 
 But where eacli hour is fraught with joy and mirth. 
 Fair palaces, and stately, crown its hills ; 
 
 Its streets are broad, and paved with costly stones ; 
 And down their sides flow cool and crystal rills, 
 
 That murmur sweetly in a thousand tones. 
 Its men are brave, its women pure and fair, 
 
 And art and song are handmaids in the land ; 
 While holy hymns, and blessed words of prayer, 
 
 Show that the nation is a Christian band. 
 This is the bright Utopia of our youth, 
 
 The El. Dorado of our hopes and fears, 
 And when in age we come to learn the truth, 
 
 A Spanish castle crumbling like our years. 
 
 After her father s death, my wife, still grieving over 
 17
 
 258 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 our earlier loss, passed many an hour within the church 
 yard, training the roses and sweetbriers growing upon our 
 dead boy s grave over the marble slab which marked the 
 spot where lay the good old man. There, too, she led our 
 children, and, seated within the shadow of a drooping wil 
 low, told them stories, old and true, drawn from the Book 
 of books, of little Samuel and the stripling David, and 
 the child Jesus disputing with the doctors in the temple ; 
 and, also, pretty hymns she taught them, which they sung 
 beside their brother s grave, so that the passers-by along 
 the dusty highway, hearing their song, nor knowing 
 whence it came, for broken wall of stone, lichened and 
 green with moss, hidden from sight in thick-set privet 
 hedge, kept them from view, would pause and listen, 
 thinking the music heard from chanting cherubs rose. 
 There also did they learn their simple prayers, which, 
 night and morn, kneeling beside their mother s knee, they 
 humbly said. So filled with love and thankfulness was 
 little Fanny s heart, that she was quick to utter, in season 
 or out, at home or abroad, within her chamber or without 
 the house, a word or two of prayer. Success in overcom 
 ing the smallest things of life would call one forth. After 
 her hands were washed, her shoestrings tied, her lesson 
 learned, or many another daily act performed, would she 
 repeat some simple, childlike prayer. Once, in the street, 
 for having crossed dry-shod a little pool of water, she, in 
 the fulness of her heart, gave thanks aloud. Then Mary, 
 standing by and hearing her, exclaimed, " I d not be such 
 a Pharisee as you, Miss Fan. for all the world." Mary s 
 rebuke cut Fanny to the heart, and made great tears roll 
 down her tender cheeks, while sobs, so big they choked 
 her utterance, forbade her to reply. My precious child 
 never forgot it, and prays now only at home or in the 
 village church. 
 
 But again I wander again my thoughts, on the top 
 most billow of the flood, glide forward to the present.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 259 
 
 Let the tide ebb once more, while memory sails backward 
 in the current. 
 
 Ten years ago it seems not that to me standing 
 beside the altar in our village church, I called for the first 
 time my sweet one wife. Until I heard the man of God 
 this question ask, " Ruth, wilt thou have this man to thy 
 wedded husband ? " with more that follows after, and also 
 had heard her sweet reply, " I will," I scarcely could be 
 lieve that she indeed was mine. Not till the ring was on, 
 the blessing given, and we had turned together from that 
 spot, did the truth in all its beauty break on my wedded 
 heart. 
 
 There are some tones in marriage-bells, 
 Which, falling on my list ning ears, 
 Awaken thoughts of other years, 
 
 That to my heart are potent spells. 
 
 They bring, from o er Time s wid ning sea, 
 Fair visions, pictured on my brain, 
 Of scenes and days that ne er again 
 
 Shall come with joy to gladden me. 
 
 Once more with Ruth I seem to stand 
 
 Before the altar and the priest ; 
 
 Once more I taste the wedding-feast, 
 While she presides at my left hand. 
 
 I see the wreath that binds her hair ; 
 
 I hear, as t were a golden lyre, 
 
 The rustle of her rich attire, 
 And mark her coy yet gracious air. 
 
 I note again her winning ways, 
 I hear the music of her voice 
 In songs that make my heart rejoice, 
 
 Because they were my bridal lays. 
 
 And yet, I feel the present times 
 
 Are not without their due delight ; 
 
 For my two children bless my sight, 
 And Ruth herself extols my rhymes.
 
 260 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 And thus, with soft regrets behind, 
 With hopes and fears before me spread, 
 In manly confidence I tread 
 
 The paths through which go all mankind. 
 
 " Now. my dears," I said, when I finished the above, 
 " thus ends the stories of my Family in Utopia, and with 
 it comes the end of our Holiday Nights Entertainments." 
 
 " Oh, no, papa," shouted the little ones, " don t, please, 
 say that. There are three more days left before New 
 Year s, and you must have some story or other to tell or 
 read to us every night till then. Must n t he, mamma ? " 
 
 Mamma nodded her head. 
 
 " Well," I replied, " if you insist upon it I will see what 
 I can do, but you must not be disappointed if what I may 
 provide shall prove uninteresting." 
 
 " If you will promise not to tell us anything more about 
 boots and shoes," said my wife, " I think we shall be able 
 to keep awake under the infliction ; but if you attempt 
 anything more in that line, I, for one, shall be privileged 
 to leave the room during the discourse." 
 
 " And I," said Miss Floy, " shall also depart and take 
 the children with me." 
 
 " Which will give me an opportunity," I said, smiling, 
 "to mix and drink a strictly private brevvage which will 
 not be tea."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Two Essays. Something Fearful coming. Miss Floy s Skirts. Relief 
 of the Little Ones. " Winter in Town." " Now," with More thereto 
 pertaining. A Call for More. Lamb or Hunt. " Winter Out of 
 Town." More " Nows." A Panorama. 
 
 Y dear," I said to Mrs. Gray, as we drew around 
 the centre-table in the library, "I have written 
 two essays to read to the club this evening, and, 
 as the lamp is lighted, suppose we begin." 
 
 " Very well," my wife replied ; " children, be attentive ; 
 your father is going to read two essays. 
 
 The children looked very blank. 
 
 " Sit well back in your chairs, children ; fold your hands 
 on your laps, put your feet down on the floor, and give 
 great attention to your father, for he is going to read two 
 essays," said Miss Floy, slightly improving on my wife s 
 commands. 
 
 The blankness of the children seemed to increase. 
 
 " For goodness sake," I exclaimed, " don t frighten the 
 children out of their wits. Little ones," I continued, in 
 the most conciliatory of tones, "your dear papa is about 
 to" 
 
 " Read two essays," broke in my wife. 
 
 " Two essays," echoed Miss Floy, putting her eye-glasses 
 over the bridge of her nose. 
 
 The children fairly trembled. 
 
 " "Will you be quiet a minute or two," I cried to the two 
 feminines, " and let me explain to the children what I am 
 about to do ? "
 
 262 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 "Certainly," my wife answered, "but I thought you 
 said you were going to read two essays." 
 
 " Two essays," croaked Miss Floy. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " I exclaimed, " do you want to drive 
 me mad with your confounded interruptions. "Won t you 
 let me say a word to the children ? " 
 
 " Certainly," my wife replied. 
 
 " Of course," said Miss Floy ; " go on." 
 
 " Proceed," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 "I ll be hanged if I do," I said ; " I am not going to be 
 driven into going on, or proceeding. I choose to take 
 my own time about it. Em., ring the bell for the servant 
 to draw me a mug of ale." 
 
 There was quiet for a brief space of time. My wife 
 looked mischievous, Miss Floy looked vicious, and the 
 children looked glum. After T drank the ale, " Children," 
 I said, " your dear papa is going to " - I paused a mo 
 ment, but there was no interruption " read two essays. 
 Your dear papa, my beloved ones, thinks that you will be 
 amused with these two essays, and if your dear mamma 
 and the amiable Miss Floy do not desire to hear them, 
 they need not remain in the library." 
 
 Thereupon Miss Floy gathered up her skirts and swept 
 like a new broom out of the room. Mrs. Gray, however, who 
 is a sensible woman, remained. The children brightened 
 
 * O 
 
 up after Miss Floy s departure, who, I might as well con 
 fess it, has accepted the position, without the name, of 
 governess in my family. I am inclined to think that she 
 leads the little ones anything but a comfortable life, but 
 discipline is everything, and she employs it, in her man 
 agement, to the fullest extent. They scarcely dare to say, 
 when she is present, that the hair and they haven t a 
 great deal of it on their little heads is their own. I re- 
 marked something like this to Mrs. Gray ; but she said that 
 she saw no occasion for the children to say it. What hair 
 they had, she very justly remarked, was their own ; but she
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 2G3 
 
 saw no reason why they should state that fact to Miss 
 Floy or any other person. Of course my wife is correct, 
 but my expression, as I endeavored to explain to Mrs. 
 Gray, unsuccessfully however, was only a general way of 
 putting the fact that the children stood slightly in fear of 
 Miss Floy. 
 
 " Now that she is not present, the little ones," I said, 
 " as you may perceive, have unfolded their hands, have 
 got their feet upon the rounds of their several chairs, and 
 are generally sitting in easy, if not graceful, attitudes." 
 
 Mrs. Gray said she noticed it, and she did n t approve 
 of it, and on her threatening to send for Miss Floy to 
 come back, unless they sat up correctly, I think cor 
 rectly was the word she employed, though why, I do not 
 know, they each arranged themselves again in system 
 atic order. 
 
 Then I unrolled my manuscript, and declaring the club 
 to be in session, read aloud the following essay on 
 
 WINTEE IN TOWN. 
 
 Now it is mid-winter. Christinas and New Year have 
 gone by, and now Twelfth Night is here. Now the mercury 
 in the thermometer marks zero. Now the bell rings for us 
 to arise, but now we like to lie in bed of mornings, debat 
 ing in our minds whether to do so or not. Now, as we 
 peep from beneath the bedclothes, and see the hoar-frost 
 on the window-panes, and watch our breath, like smoke, 
 roll to the ceilings, we conclude to lie still. Now we 
 believe in Jack Frost. Now we place our hands on our 
 noses, and are reminded of icy capes in the Arctic region. 
 Now we draw the clothes closer about us, and build snow 
 castles in the air. Now the shrill cry of the milkman 
 arouses us from our musings, and his morning salutation 
 to the servant as she brings out the pitcher for the lacteal 
 fluid, reaches our ears, and, if she be good-looking, he 
 embarrasses her with a sly joke, over which she giggles as
 
 264 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 she passes down into the area. Now the light car of the 
 baker, with hot rolls and twists, stops before the door, and 
 we hear him leap from it, and enter the house, while the 
 horse paws with his hoofs the frozen ground and neighs 
 with impatience. Now the newspaper carrier hurries past, 
 and as he throws the paper into the area, he shouts its 
 name. Now we listen to the noise of feet and the crack 
 ling of the snow, as the small tradesmen and early clerks 
 and porters hasten " down-town " to open their stores. 
 Now John knocks at our door, and says, " Breakfast is 
 about up, and the Gov nor s down." Now we ask John if 
 he thinks ice made during the night ? to which he answers 
 with a chuckle, rolling his eyes towards the windows, 
 " Some, sir." Now we tell him, as he places our boots at 
 the bedside, that hot water is a luxury. Now declaring 
 that the Croton is frozen in the pipes, he goes down to the 
 kitchen for the hot water. Now we draw the bedclothes 
 closer about us, and pull our cap further over our ears. 
 Now we grope in the bed for our stockings with our feet, 
 and as they touch the cold sheets we quickly withdraw 
 them, and desire a hot brick. Now we dress and shiver, 
 and now we leave our chamber. Now the little breakfast- 
 room looks pleasant, and the sun shines in at the eastern 
 window, and its rays fall with a roseate tinge upon the 
 white table-linen. Now the fire in the grate burns freely, 
 and the bituminous coal sputters and blazes whenever it 
 is stirred. Now the morning papers send up a steam from 
 their fresh sheets as they are opened before the fire. Now 
 we read accounts of persons being frozen to death, and of 
 poor children perishing of starvation and exposure. Now 
 the coffee-urn bubbles and sings, and the plates are heated 
 before the fire, and the steak and rolls are brought in, and 
 now we sit down to breakfast. Now butter, and flies on the 
 window-pane, grow stiff, and seats nearest the fire are pre 
 ferred. Now the Governor puts on his spectacles and 
 reads the paper, sipping his coffee between the paragraphs,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 265 
 
 with the air of a gentleman of leisure. Now sister Mary 
 presides at the urn ; and the old lady butters the muffins, 
 while we carve the steak. Now we love to linger long 
 around the table, as the old lady makes out her list of the 
 marketings we are to send home. Now gloves and fur 
 tippets are in requisition, and overshoes and coats are 
 warmed before putting on. Now kisses are exchanged by 
 newly married couples, and the little child holds up its 
 pretty mouth to be kissed by papa. 
 
 Now out-of-doors the air is piercingly cold, and our 
 breath freezes as it leaves our lips. Now our beard and 
 mustache are encrusted with ice, and our fingers turn to 
 icicles. Now large men, buttoned to the chin in heavy 
 over-coats, and with fur collars around their ears, hasten 
 over the crossings, heeding not the thinly clad, pale-faced 
 little girls running at their side, imploring a few coppers. 
 Now sleighs glide by, containing ladies richly and warmly 
 clad in velvets and furs, whose horses keep time in their 
 prancing to the chime of silver bells above their saddles. 
 Now huge sleighs, drawn by a dozen horses or more, and 
 filled with the democracy of our city, grate harshly over 
 the pavement of Broadway. Now stray dogs seek sunny 
 doorways, where they may warm their chilled bodies. Now 
 old ladies, unless they be very careful, are likely to slip 
 down. Now boys skate on the sidewalks, and little girls, 
 on their way to school, slide wherever they find a bit of ice. 
 Now the big pond in the Central Park is the place of 
 resort, where skaters most do congregate. Now the sunny 
 side of the street is much frequented, and ragged boys 
 nestle together and sun themselves in corners. Now noses 
 
 O 
 
 grow red, and eyes water, and teeth are apt to chatter. 
 Now cigars become a necessity, and pipes are excusable. 
 Now hot whiskey-punches are at par and ice-water at a 
 discount. Now itinerant organ-grinders play mournful 
 tunes in the cold winter solstice, and have a hard time 
 generally, and their red-coated, barefooted little monkeys a
 
 266 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 still harder. Now fat men, and cooks and bakers, are 
 better off than kings and queens, and a tavern kitchen 
 is no bad place. Now stage-drivers may be pitied, and 
 stage managers envied. Now theatres are patronized, 
 and Booth s Hamlet and Clarke s Toodles are having a 
 run. Now coal-yards are visited and ice-houses shunned. 
 Now Greenwood is not considered as desirable a spot as it 
 is in summer time, and Coney Island and Long Branch 
 are deserted. Now hoops must be cool institutions, and a 
 fan a useless invention. Now dancing and wood-sawing 
 are really enjoyed by those who like them, and bowling is 
 pleasant exercise. Now church-spires glisten in icy mail, 
 and the eaves of houses are warlike with pendent icicles. 
 Now the fountain in the Park ceases to spout. Now the 
 wind sets from the north. Now people eat substantial 
 dinners. Now the sun disappears early in the afternoon, 
 and the stars shine till late in the morning. Now we have 
 brief days, and now nights are allowed an extension. Now 
 much gas is burned, and the gas companies make money. 
 Now young men find time to go a-courting. Now late 
 suppers are patronized, and oysters are in good repute. 
 Now policemen retire from the street and may be found in 
 kitchens and bar-rooms. Now nightcaps and warm flan 
 nels are not to be recklessly dispensed with ; and now it is 
 time to say our prayers and go to bed. 
 
 When I had concluded, the children expressed them 
 selves as much delighted with the first essay, and asked 
 immediately for the second. Even Mrs. Gray said it was 
 not bad, but she thought that there was something similar 
 to it either in Leigh Hunt s or Charles Lamb s writings. 
 
 " If there be," I said, " you may find it out. I am not 
 going to point out the page, and thereby destroy the credit 
 of originality which it now possesses in the minds of the 
 children." 
 
 The children said they were certain no one had ever
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 267 
 
 written like it, or could write like it, and that papa was 
 the best writer in the world. After this praise I could not 
 do otherwise than read the second essay, entitled, 
 
 WINTER OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 Now, in the country, it is mid-winter. Now the 
 snow lies in huge drifts against stone walls, and beside 
 long lines of fences. Now the wood-pile becomes a moun 
 tain of snow, and the well-curb is hidden from sight. 
 Now, on the farm, cattle linger around the barn-yard 
 trough, waiting for a friendly hand to break the ice. Now 
 fowls stand on one leg, with heads sunken in their feathers, 
 and nestle closely to each other when they go to roost. 
 Now peacocks freeze to death, and pigeons fall dead from 
 their perches. Now turkeys, geese, and ducks are apt to 
 go off suddenly, especially about the holidays ; and now 
 hens refuse to lay eggs. Now chilly are the sheep in 
 woolly fold, and numb the herdsman s fingers as he fodders 
 them. Now hares and rabbits limp trembling through 
 the frosty snow, and squirrels, all a-cold, ran along the 
 fences. Now bears suck their paws, and bees are torpid. 
 Now the air on the hill-tops is piercingly cold, while in 
 the woods it is comparatively mild. Now forest-trees fall 
 beneath the axe of the woodman, and saw-logs are drawn 
 to the mill. Now the report of the hunter s rifle rings 
 out sharp and clear, and deer and foxes give up the ghost. 
 Now snow-shoes are very well in their way, and to walk 
 with them on the deep snow is splendid exercise. Now 
 dancing with stilts on the crusted ...ground is an impos 
 sibility, and to dance without them would be an absurdity. 
 Now barns are cheerless places, and hayricks not exactly 
 the thing. Now the measured strokes of the flail of the 
 husbandman are heard, and fill the ear like a song of 
 thanksgiving. Now oats are oats and corn is corn, and 
 there is no such thing as grass save in the flesh. Now 
 sheep are sheep, and lambs are slowly coming. Now pine-
 
 268 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 knots blaze in farm-houses, and chips collect in the back 
 yard. Now seats by blazing wood-fires are particularly 
 affected by old ladies who knit, and children who roast 
 apples. Now barrels of cider in the cellar are tapped, 
 and pork-barrels dipped into. Now potatoes and pump 
 kins are covered with straw, and bins of apples rosy- 
 cheeked, russet, and green are protected from frost. Now 
 buckwheat cakes are at a premium, and maple syrup is 
 better than molasses. Now honey is not bad, nor fresh 
 butter, if one can get it, to be calumniated. Now rooms 
 with northern exposures are to be avoided, and quilts and 
 rose-blankets can scarcely be depended upon to keep away 
 the cold. Now loosely fitted window-sashes shake in the 
 night-time, and the lightning-rod rattles against the side 
 of the house. Now weathercocks are in their glory, and 
 vary with every wind that blows. Now the mercury in 
 the thermometer marks twenty degrees below zero, and 
 now never-failing springs freeze over. Now the Bronx 
 is frozen over, and the little ones going there to skate or 
 slide on the ice, get falls, and come home with many 
 bruises. Now stone foundations of old farm-houses snap, 
 with a report like the crack of a pistol, causing children 
 to start affrighted from their sleep. Now pails of water, 
 inadvertently left out-of-doors, burst their hoops, which 
 are quickly seized upon by little lasses, who insert them 
 in their quilted skirts. Now ice makes in the pitcher, 
 and the oil in the lamp is hardened. Now shaving seems 
 as bad as tooth-drawing, and razors are like icicles. Now 
 slippers almost freeze the feet. Now well-to-do farmers 
 build up their poor neighbors wood-piles, and their kind- 
 hearted wives send widows, pitiful in rusty crape, great 
 baskets stored with good things. Now spareribs and 
 mince-pies are in good repute, and doughnuts are impor 
 tant institutions. Now quiltings and apple-bees are of 
 frequent occurrence, and sleighing parties often meet with 
 upsets. Now a " dance " at the tavern is a matter to
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 269 
 
 talk about, and the belle of the ball-room a plump lass 
 in a pink dress a being to be remembered forever. 
 Now nuts are cracked, and apples are eaten. Now farm 
 ers talk about last year s crops, and read the History of 
 the Rebellion. Now singing-schools are attractive, and 
 debating societies are in their zenith. Now donation par 
 ties take place, and parsons are affable and contented. 
 Now little girls, when they go abroad, wear mittens, and 
 have stockings drawn over their shoes, and are wrapped 
 in red cloaks ; while in-doors, clad in woollen dresses, and 
 with checkered aprons, they delight to sit in the chimney 
 corner and read aloud to their grandmothers, from the 
 Bible, the story of little Samuel. Now small boys like to 
 slide " clown-hill " on their sleds, and take much pleasure 
 in snowballing each other. Now large boys go a-skating, 
 and rejoice themselves by cutting figures and letters on 
 the surface of the ice, with skilful manoeuvre, and now a 
 plump through an air-hole is highly dangerous and un 
 pleasant. Now the trees are leafless, save the ever 
 greens, which are refreshing to look at, and the snow 
 sifts drearily through their naked branches. Now the 
 singing-birds have gone South, and their last year s nests 
 are filled with ice and snow. Now snow-birds chirp, and 
 " the owl, for all his feathers, is a-cold." Now Dinah, the 
 cook, says, " flannel petticoats are in season," and young 
 girls term flannel-waistcoats " delightful." Now flaxen- 
 haired children, hand in hand, with dinner-pails on their 
 arms, and school-books in their satchels, trudge through 
 the snow to the district school-house. Now school-boys 
 model in snow the form of the pedagogue, and take much 
 comfort in pelting it with snowballs. Now they build 
 forts, and fire at each other from behind them, while the 
 more juvenile play at " track the rabbit" Now boys com 
 plain of frozen toes and nipped ears ; and little girls talk 
 about chilblains. Now even burly men think it chilly, 
 and every one says to every one he meets, " How cold it
 
 270 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 is ! " And now the writer, finding his fingers all thumbs, 
 and his back an iceberg, thinks that he will freeze up and 
 come to the end of his chapter. 
 
 When I stopped reading, the children clapped their 
 hands, and Miss Em. said, that while I Avas reading it 
 seemed to her that one of those panoramas she had seen 
 in the city was passing before her. Both of the essays 
 seemed to be full of pictures. My wife said it was amus 
 ing, but that she was going to see if she couldn t find 
 something like it among the books of her library, and if 
 she did she should make a note of it. 
 
 Then I declared the meeting around the evening lamp 
 to be dissolved, and that the little ones might go to bed. 
 Which they did.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Miss Em. speaks. Another Story. The Little Quakeress. An Old 
 House. A Pattern Housekeeper. Tim Coffin. Long Sally. 
 Yarns. A Libel. A Strict Friend. A Little Violet. Little 
 Ruth. What all Good Girls should do. Charlton. A Bit of Love. 
 A Wedding. 
 
 jO sooner did I put down the evening paper which 
 I had been reading, seated in my arm-chair before 
 the fire in the library, than the little ones, whom 
 I had observed earnestly chattering among themselves, 
 in one corner of the room, approached me in a body, and 
 making Miss Em. the spokesman, asked me to tell them 
 another story about my children in Utopia. 
 
 I replied that I believed I had nothing more to relate 
 about those precious little ones, but that, if they wo"uld 
 like to hear a true story instead, I would tell them one. 
 Thereupon they clapped their hands, and shouting with 
 glee, gave me to understand that nothing would please 
 them better. So, drawing around the library table, I pro 
 ceeded to unfold the following story about 
 
 THE LITTLE QUAKERESS. 
 
 " MANY years ago, when the winters were colder than 
 they are now, and the snow came earlier and remained 
 later than in these degenerate days, and, moreover, lay 
 deeper upon the ground than at present, so long ago 
 that only the oldest inhabitants can remember the time, 
 there stood, and is still standing, in the main street of a 
 certain little city, a wooden house, which, though now
 
 272 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 sadly out of repair, for the top of the chimney has fallen 
 in, and the window-shutters hang loosely, and creak and 
 groan on their well-worn hinges with every wind that 
 rushes past, then gloried in a new coat of white paint 
 and bright green blinds, with a highly polished brass 
 knocker on the door ; all of which, with the neatness 
 which was visible about it, for not a blade of grass or 
 a single weed was allowed to come up through the cracks 
 in the pavement, certainly proclaimed it to be the pret 
 tiest house in the neighborhood, and led one to think that 
 its housekeeper must be a pattern for all housewives ; and 
 so, indeed, she was. Such extraordinary scrubbing and 
 cleaning as she kept up throughout the week, was enough 
 to drive a poor man, who loved retirement and quiet, quite 
 crazy. Mondays and Saturdays were her great days, 
 wherein she celebrated her love for cleanliness with more 
 ardor and devotion than she was wont to celebrate the 
 anniversary of her marriage. But there were two seasons 
 of the year when she seemed more than herself, as beirg 
 gifted with supernatural powers, and those were early in 
 the spring and late in the fall, when the house seemed a 
 perfect little bedlam. Such turning upside down of tables 
 and chairs, such taking apart of bedsteads and polishing 
 of bureaus and sideboards, such washing of windows and 
 scrubbing of paint, such shaking of carpets and white 
 washing of walls and ceilings, and such quantities of soap 
 and water as were then used, would certainly shock any 
 respectable boarding-house keeper of these days into a 
 premature decline. Truly, she was renowned among the 
 neighbors as a notable good woman, who could wash, bake, 
 brew, scold, and gossip with the best of them. 
 
 " Indeed, my little ones, such an exemplary housekeeper 
 is seldom to be found nowadays." Here I looked at Mrs. 
 Gray, who, without looking up from her crocheting, simply 
 said, she should hope so. 
 
 "At the time of which I speak," I continued, " this house
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 273 
 
 was owned and occupied by a jolly little man by the name 
 of Timothy Coffin ; though, to tell the truth, Tim was a 
 mere cipher in his household, as meek and patient as a 
 lamb, though out-of-doors Captain Tim was as bold as 
 a lion, and feared no man ; but albeit the sight of a woman 
 made his heart quake his wife Sally evidently being the 
 master. How it happened that Captain Tim came to 
 marry Long Sally Coffin, (for she was also a Coffin, and 
 sister of Long Tom of that name,) will ever remain a mys 
 tery ; for I have made diligent search throughout many 
 old letters relating to the Coffin family, in the hope of 
 finding some clew by which to arrive at a conclusion ; even 
 their family Bible only states, that on such a day, which 
 now matters not, seeing that it hath long since passed 
 away, they were married after the manner of Friends, 
 at the bride s paternal mansion, on the little island of 
 Nantucket. 
 
 " Now, though Captain Tim wore the drab coat and the 
 broad brim of the Quakers, yet would he sometimes let 
 fall strange words which were not seeming in one of his 
 
 o j 
 
 persuasion ; neither are they, even at the present time, in 
 any one, though I regret to say that some men are prone 
 to use them. But, when we bethink ourselves of the re 
 markable wife he had, it seemeth no longer of so much 
 wonder that he should once in a while forget himself." 
 
 Here Mrs. Gray interrupted me by saying she did not 
 think even that was cause sufficient to make any one use 
 bad language. 
 
 " As I said before," I continued, not heeding my wife s 
 remark, " Captain Tim was a jolly little fellow, who liked his 
 pipe and his mug of ale quite as much as if he had been 
 born a Dutchman instead of the sturdy Yankee that he 
 was ; and in wet weather, or even when it betokened a 
 storm, he would not refuse a glass of good brandy, which, 
 he said, would not hurt any man if taken with moderation ; 
 but it grieves me seriously to know that there are some 
 18
 
 274 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 persons even in this age who drink to excess. Now, 
 nothing pleased Captain Tim better than to be seated on 
 a stormy winter night, beside a large blazing wood-fire, 
 smoking his pipe, with a glass of brandy and water by his 
 elbow, spinning to his old comrades long tales about the 
 time when he sailed as master in the good ship Sally Ann 
 from the port of Nantucket. Then was he truly in his 
 glory, and his small gray eyes would twinkle with glee, and 
 his rubicund face would shine like polished mahogany, 
 while his bald head glistened like a pewter basin. Al 
 though some used to say, more especially the young men 
 of those days, that his stories were without any wit, yet I 
 am inclined to think that his libellers must have been 
 actuated by jealousy ; for true it was that at any social 
 gathering, the young maidens, for the sake of hearing his 
 sailor yarns, would congregate around Captain Tim, whom 
 they all loved as a father, though he looked on them with 
 suspicious eyes, for he deemed that all women were alike ; 
 and though they might be sunshine and laughter before 
 marriage, yet after would their true characters be unfolded, 
 and the clouds and tears which they had hidden from sight 
 in their courtship days, would reappear, and even with 
 more strength than before. The greatest plague to Captain 
 Tim was his wife s tongue, which he used to say was a more 
 fearful sound to him than the breakers on a lee shore ; and, 
 truly, I believe it was. 
 
 " Some one has said, that the reason monkeys do not 
 talk, is, that they may not work ; but many women, on the 
 contrary, talk twice as much, just because they work ; and 
 such was the case with Long Sally Coffin, who, the more she 
 worked, the louder and faster she talked, till it often seemed 
 that she must faint from sheer exhaustion ; but such a 
 happy thing for Captain Tim never occurred ; so he was 
 fain to content himself with hoping that the time would 
 come when his wife would learn that, to make home 
 pleasant to him, it would be necessary for her to put a
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 275 
 
 bridle upon her tongue. Alas ! t was a vain hope for 
 Captain Tim." 
 
 " A worse libel on woman, than all you have just said," 
 interrupted my wife, " I don t think I ever listened to ; and 
 I warn you, my children, not to believe what your naughty 
 papa is telling you." 
 
 " But you know, ma," replied Miss Em., " that papa said 
 it was a true story." 
 
 " Your father, rny love," my wife answered, " is prone to 
 declare a great many things to be true which are false, and 
 much that is false he as often pronounces to be true." 
 
 " That is a libel on me, at all events," I said ; and, with 
 out waiting for the smart reply which I saw on my wife s 
 tongue, I continued the story. 
 
 " Now, Long Sally, as Captain Tim s wife was called, to 
 distinguish her from others of the same name, was a tall, 
 slim, gaunt woman, the very personification of a scold; and 
 yet at times, when her tongue was still, which, truly, was 
 but seldom, one could trace on her face the remains of 
 great beauty, though almost effaced by the wrinkles and 
 lines of care which now were so visible. It was the last 
 remnant of her girlhood, and no one would think who looked 
 upon her now. that she had once been celebrated for her 
 beauty ; but, peradventure, that was the reason why Captain 
 Tim came to marry her. The plain dress, so very neat, 
 which she wore, and the simple thee and thou language 
 which she used, were in strange contrast to the loud voice 
 and shrill tones that were wont to issue from her lips ; and 
 one would not willingly believe that she was a strict 
 follower of that gentle sect, the Quakers. But thus it was, 
 and so strict was she, that when her daughter appeared one 
 day with a rose-bud twined in her hair, she rebuked her 
 and told her to put it away, as it was not seeming to be 
 fond of gay flowers. 
 
 " Sometimes, my children, when wandering in the woods, 
 I have suddenly come upon a single little violet, raising its
 
 276 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 head from the tangled fern and long grass which grew 
 around it, apparently more beautiful for being thus alone 
 in the midst of strange and unseemly weeds, than if it had 
 been placed in the parterre of some magnificent garden ; 
 and I have thought to myself that the sunlight fell more 
 lovingly about it, and the night dews rested more gently 
 upon its leaves, and even the very winds, as they went past, 
 breathed more softly upon it than on the wilder things 
 that surrounded it, while it, in turn, seemed to yield a 
 grateful perfume to the wild and scentless shrubs about 
 it. To me it always appeared that the good Being took 
 more than usual care of such lonely little flowers, and 
 nurtured them as his own especial favorites." 
 
 "That s pretty, isn t it mamma?" asked Em. Mamma, 
 however, only smiled in a half-satirical fashion. 
 
 " Like such a flower," I continued, u was little Ruth 
 Coffin. Her sensitive nature shrunk from contact with 
 the world, and took refuge in the protection of the rough 
 but generous spirits of her household among whom her 
 lot was cast ; they shielded her as the shepherd does the 
 feeble lamb, allowing no wind to visit it too roughly. She 
 was the sweet flower of the garden the joy, the gladness, 
 and the sunshine of the home. In truth, Ruth was one 
 of those merry little maidens round whose hearts seem to 
 cluster loving thoughts, who have ever a sweet smile and 
 a pleasant word for all whom they may meet, and who 
 come across our paths like stray beams of sunshine, mak 
 ing glad our ways, and giving new vigor and fresh impulse 
 to all good inclinations. Though Ruth was not what 
 is termed handsome, that is, her features were not so 
 regular and finely chiselled as they might have been, nor 
 her complexion as white, nor her cheeks as red, as powder 
 and rouge would have made them, yet most people 
 termed her pretty, which should be enough to satisfy you 
 that she was far from being homely, and also prove that 
 little Ruth was one whom none could know without lov-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 277 
 
 ins;, for there was something most pleasing in her ap 
 pearance ; and whether it was her mariner, her voice, or 
 her words which most did captivate, it would be hard to 
 tell. Xo one could look upon her face without being 
 aware that she possessed a most loving heart ; for if the 
 eyes are an index of the soul, then truly was it so with 
 Ruth, for there was more of love beaming from those blue 
 eyes of hers than would fill the hearts of half a dozen city 
 belles of these days. In sad sooth it is most true that 
 many women now, instead of living to be loved, living 
 for home and home joys, seek rather to be thought cold- 
 hearted and free from those sentiments which should be 
 woman s greatest pride, affection and respect for her 
 husband, and love and care for her children. They too 
 often forget that the training and bearing of a child is 
 woman s wisdom ; and they seek in the frivolities of fash 
 ionable life for that entertainment which can only be ob 
 tained at home." 
 
 Another libel, my children," said Mrs. Gray, " on your 
 mother, and Miss Floy, and yourselves, and indeed all who 
 are of the gentler sex. Your papa appears to be in a 
 most amiable humor to-night, and I fear that something 
 has gone wrong with him in town." 
 
 Making no reply, and only shaking my head at my wife, 
 I continued : 
 
 " Had it not been for Ruth, her father, jolly old Captain 
 Tim, would have found his home most irksome ; but when 
 with her he felt that he had brought his ship into a good 
 anchorage ground, a quiet, retired bay, where no waves 
 or winds came to disturb his repose. Never a loud or a 
 cross word did his wife give unto Ruth, and even when she 
 spake chidingly to her husband before Ruth, which was 
 but seldom, her voice, modulated and softened from its 
 usual severity, sounded more like those old winning tones 
 which he had hearkened to of yore ; and his sturdy heart 
 for he had a sturdy, brave old heart within his breast
 
 278 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 would beat to the measure of happier days. Often had 
 little Ruth, when a child, sat for hours together on the old 
 man s knee, with her small delicate hands clasped in his 
 rough and horny ones, eagerly listening to stories of his 
 seafaring life ; and when he told of the many dangers he 
 had gone through, of his shipwrecks and providential es 
 capes from death, she would cling closer to him, and plac 
 ing her soft arm around his neck, impress a kiss upon his 
 weather-beaten cheek, and make him promise that he 
 will never again venture upon that treacherous sea, but 
 will always stay at home and tell stories to her. Then, 
 when she grew older, seated in her chair by his side, she 
 would read aloud to him for his eyes were growing dim 
 and he could not see clearly for any length of time from 
 that well-worn and long-treasured book, the Bible ; and 
 thus many a long afternoon in summer would she make 
 short, and many a dreary one in winter pleasant, by her 
 attention and care for his comfort." 
 
 " That was nice, papa, in her, was n t it ? " asked Miss 
 Em. 
 
 " Yes, my child," I answered ; " and it is what all good 
 little girls who love their papas ought to do. Isn t it, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes," said mamma. 
 
 " Now, it is not to be expected," I continued, " or even 
 desired, that little Ruth, who had arrived at the sunny 
 age of eighteen, should be without admirers ; nor was it 
 so, though I know not how many, but at any rate a goodly 
 number of the young men who were then residents of the 
 quiet little city, had long looked upon Ruth with feelings 
 very much akin to love. It is true that none had as yet 
 dared to tell her so, nor had she ever shown a preference 
 for any of them ; but, nevertheless, it was most certain 
 that many of the young men worshipped, in the secrecy 
 and silence of their own hearts, the modest little Quaker 
 ess, Ruth Coffin. But there was one thing which puzzled
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 279 
 
 little Ruth most sadly : why was it that among all the 
 young men about her, who were so anxious to do her bid 
 ding, there should be one of the number who had never 
 offered his services to her in any way ; he would stand 
 quietly by and see others do that for her which would have 
 been most easy for him to have performed ; nor had he 
 ever asked her to accompany him to any of the picnics 
 and merrymakings which so often took place. All this 
 to Ruth was quite a mystery and one which she could not 
 understand. She did not dream for a moment that this 
 very inattention to her sprang from a feeling of love, and 
 that his seeming coldness was anything but natural. How 
 could she know that he would have perilled his life for her 
 had it been necessary ? or why should she imagine that he 
 loved her ? he had never whispered to her any of the deli 
 cate flatteries of which the others were so bountiful, and 
 which are at all times so pleasing to a woman s vanity, even 
 though she may know at the time that they mean nothing. 
 No, little Ruth was not as wise as are many of the maidens 
 of these days, who would have seen that this seeming 
 indifference was only the outer circle of love, which was 
 to guard and hide that love from sight, to keep it sacred 
 from the prying eyes of the world, and only to be acknowl 
 edged to her at the proper time. She did not think of 
 this ; and so many a night she wept herself to sleep, be 
 cause she feared that Charlton Mitchell, whom she had 
 known from her childhood, who had been her playmate and 
 companion for many years, and her warmest admirer, up 
 to the very day he had gone away to that hateful college, 
 where he had become so changed, and had come back such 
 a different person from what he formerly was, no longer 
 loved her. He was but a boy when he left, and four years 
 had made a man of him ; still she could not see why he 
 should have altered in his relations to her. Therefore she 
 wept, because she thought he no longer cared for her as he 
 once had. Now I must acknowledge that it would have
 
 280 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 been very foolish for Ruth thus to have grieved, had it not 
 been that she in good sooth really loved him ; and though 
 she did not acknowledge it, even to herself, and moreover 
 was scarcely aware of it, yet am I quite certain that it 
 was so else why did her little heart beat so fast when 
 she heard his footsteps, which she had learnt to distinguish 
 from all others ? why did she bow her head to hide her 
 blushes, when his name was casually mentioned ? why 
 did her bosom heave so rapidly when he spake to her? 
 why did such a full tide of joy rush over her whenever he 
 clasped her hand ? and why did the tears start to her eyes 
 when he turned away from her ? 
 
 "Though I never knew, my children, what it was," I 
 said, pausing in my story, " to have a woman love me, 
 until I met your mother," " Oh ! " said my wife, interjec- 
 tively, " yet I had often witnessed a woman s love for 
 another, and quietly marked the effects, which were the 
 same as those that little Ruth experienced. 
 
 " How it came to pass," I proceeded, " that Ruth dis 
 covered Charlton loved her was in this wise : She had, for a 
 long time, found, every morning when she arose, a bouquet 
 of wild flowers placed upon her own chair in the arbor, 
 though she could not imagine who had laid them there. 
 Morning after morning she arose with the sun, so that she 
 
 ~ o 
 
 might discover the mysterious giver ; but she always found 
 the flowers there before her, till one morning, earlier than 
 xisual, just as she drew back the bolt of the outward door, 
 who should she see with the newly gathered flowers in his 
 hand but Charlton Mitchell. It was too late to retreat ; he 
 was fairly caught ; so he quietly gave the flowers into her 
 own hands, at the same time murmuring something of 
 which only the words " Ruth " and " childhood " were 
 distinguishable. She simply uttered his name, while her 
 bosom heaved and her heart beat to a happy measure. He 
 took her hand in his and she withdrew it not ; he looked 
 upon her blushing cheek and marked her downcast eyes,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 281 
 
 and as he pressed his lips upon her soft smooth cheek, her 
 large blue eyes looked up in wonderment. Then, a few 
 whispered words a pause and a half-uttered trembling 
 " yes " fell upon his ear, and then, why then he had won 
 her." 
 
 " Oh ! I m so glad," exclaimed Miss Em. " I was afraid 
 that something awful would happen to her." 
 
 - Why ? " I asked. 
 
 Well," and Miss Em. hesitated, " because you 
 seemed so mamma said, you know in such a bad 
 humor, and told such naughty things about us women 
 folks.- 
 
 u Us women-folks is good, little girl ; you are getting 
 over girlhood rapidly," I said. 
 
 " Well," I continued, to come to the end of the story, for 
 I see mamma is weary of it, and as for Miss Floy, she has 
 been reading a book all the time I was telling it, while you 
 little ones are just as sleepy as you can be." 
 
 " Oh, no, we re not, papa," they exclaimed. 
 
 " Do make it as long as you can," said Em. " I like it so 
 much." 
 
 " And me, too," said little Mary. 
 
 The boy, however, rolled over on the rug before the fire, 
 and though he opened first one and then the other eye, 
 said nothing, and immediately thereafter dropped again 
 to sleep. 
 
 Xo, it won t do," I said, " to make it much longer. I 
 could tell, if I chose, but I will not, how jolly Captain 
 Tim Quaker though he was danced at the wedding. 
 What long stories he told, and how merry he got. I could 
 describe every article of his dress, from his broad-brimmed 
 hat which he persisted in wearing throughout the cere 
 mony down to the round-toed shoes, with their silver 
 buckles, which covered his feet. I could inform you how 
 his wife, Long Sally, forgot to scold him for a whole week 
 thereafter, and in the joy of her heart, did that which she
 
 282 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 had not done before in twenty-five years, kissed him, till 
 the tears gushed from his eyes, and he made a vow, that 
 would have gladdened the heart even of Uncle Toby, that 
 his wife was the best of women and the model of a house 
 keeper. I might also relate how the bride appeared, in a 
 white muslin dress, and a lace cape over her shoulders ; how 
 her glossy hair was braided, and a white rose-bud placed 
 amid it, much to the scandal of her mother. In short, I 
 might tell all about the wedding, the smiles, the tears, 
 and the kisses, the words of congratulation offered, and the 
 kindly thanks returned. But I will say no more, leaving 
 it to you, mamma, and to you, Miss Floy, and to you, little 
 ones, to imagine it all as best you may. I will simply add that 
 many years have passed since that happy day, and jolly 
 old Captain Tim, with his long stories and odd jokes, is dead. 
 His wife, Long Sally, has also gone to her long account. 
 But Charlton Mitchell, and his little Ruth, are still in the 
 land of the living, though many a weary day s journey from 
 Woodbine Cottage ; and though time must have silvered his 
 head, and left a few lines upon the once smooth brow of 
 little Ruth, yet their hearts, I dare say, are as young now 
 as they were thirty years ago ; nor have they forgotten, I 
 am sure, the pleasant period of their youth." 
 
 " And now, my little ones, this closes our Christmas 
 Nights in the Library ; so kiss us all good-night, and go to 
 bed, and peace be with you." 
 
 And they kissed good-night, and departed.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 My Old Lady asks me to Tea. How Mrs. Gray dressed me for the 
 Occasion. What we had for Tea. Touching an olden Chord. A 
 China-closet. A Punch-bowl. A Nosegay. Birds. Keeping Goats 
 and Bees. The Twenty-third Psalui. 
 
 ;Y old lady of black-matan memory sent me an 
 invitation, a few days since, to visit, and take tea 
 with, her. Of course I accepted her invitation. 
 It is regarded, I understand, by her acquaintances a high 
 honor to be asked by her to tea, as it is a repast which 
 she always herself prepares in her own room. Being a 
 widow, she lives with a married daughter, but has her own 
 apartments, of which she takes the entire charge. Tea is 
 the only meal she takes apart from the family, and it in 
 variably is ready at exactly four o clock, both in summer 
 and in winter. As it is only the privileged few whom she 
 invites to these entertainments, I was much flattered at re 
 ceiving an invitation. Even Mrs. Gray was not included 
 in the request. When I told my estimable wife of it, she 
 declared I was a most fortunate individual, and she quite 
 envied me the invitation. I think Mrs. Gray perceives 
 that I am a favorite with the ladies, especially with old 
 ladies, and, doubtless, she wonders if I will ever take to 
 flirting with them. However that may be, she was very 
 anxious, on this occasion, that I should appear as well as 
 possible. She made me change my collar three times, 
 before I found one that, in her eyes, " set well." Then she 
 tied my cravat with her own hands ; and playfully suggested 
 to me, while doing so, the propriety of my wearing a 
 white one, such as, no doubt, the old lady s husband
 
 281 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 had worn when he courted her. Mrs. Gray mischievously 
 thought it might be pleasantly suggestive to my venerable 
 friend. 
 
 Aware of the old lady s regard for punctuality, I entered 
 her rooms precisely at the moment the ancient clock stand 
 ing in the corner struck four. At the same instant the 
 
 j 
 
 maid appeared, beai ing the tea-urn, which she placed upon 
 the table ; while the venerable dame, with stately courtesy, 
 received me, and motioned me to a seat at the table. I 
 was the only guest, and as I looked at the prim old lady 
 of over sixty years, and remembered that many gentlemen 
 of the old school had from time to time assembled at her 
 hospitable board, I confess I experienced a little anxiety 
 lest I might not appear to advantage. I felt very grateful 
 to Mrs. Gray for the pains she had taken in fastening my 
 neck-tie, and in brushing the lint from my coat, when I 
 kissed her farewell in the hall. 
 
 The appearance of the table was charming, and the 
 meal itself most delicious. The purest of damask linen 
 covered the table, and the urn, sugar-bowl, and cream-jug 
 were of silver, engraved with her family s crest. The 
 biscuits were light and Avhite, and, though I did not in 
 quire, were, I think, made by the old lady herself. There 
 were, as delicate appetizers, thinly shaved smoked beef 
 and grated cheese. There was a variety of preserves, in 
 cluding East India ginger, which is my especial favorite. 
 The tea possessed an exquisite flavor, and was poured into 
 little white china cups, of antique shape, with blue and 
 gilt edges, and golden spots, like stars, studded over them. 
 The monogram " "NY. & P. C.," in gilt, in the centre of 
 each piece, was surrounded by a blue border. The old 
 lady informed me that this china, which she only used on 
 notable occasions, had been brought from China as a wed 
 ding gift, more than fifty years ago, by her late husband, 
 who commanded an East India merchantman. " Poor, 
 dear William ! " she continued ; " ten days after our mar-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 285 
 
 riage lie sailed for China, and I never saw him again. 
 The ship was not heard from after she left port ; but 
 whether she foundered at sea, and all on board perished, 
 or was attacked by pirates, and my husband and the crew 
 murdered, I never knew. But the hour cannot be far 
 distant when, I trust, kind sir," she said, " the mystery will 
 be solved to me, and, in the other world, I shall rejoin him 
 from whom I have so long been separated." 
 
 " Oh," I said, " don t speak so discouragingly. You 
 are not so very old ; and who can tell, perhaps you may 
 marry again ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, " that can never be ; though, to be 
 sure, stranger things sometimes happen, and if an old 
 beau of mine, my husband s cousin, should ask me again 
 to be his wife, it might come to pass." 
 
 And the old lady sighed, and the color came to her 
 faded cheeks. Without meaning to do so, I had evidently 
 touched a chord in her breast which trembled with by 
 gone memories. 
 
 After tea, she opened her china-closet, and showed me 
 the treasures it contained. She apparently takes much 
 pride in her store of old china ; and, I learn, is continually 
 dusting and rearranging it. It consists of several sets of 
 tea, coffee, and dinner services. Many pieces of each, 
 however, have been broken ; but their value, in her opin 
 ion, seem to have increased as they gradually have been 
 broken and destroyed. The good dame possesses a won 
 derful memory, and gave me the history of the destruction 
 of each piece. Most of these disasters were caused by 
 the carelessness of servants to whom she had foolishly, 
 she said, intrusted them to be washed and put into their 
 places. 
 
 The principal attraction, however, in her china-closet 
 to me, at least was an immense punch-bowl, capable of 
 holding several gallons of that delectable mixture. The 
 
 o o 
 
 figures on it which could only have originated in the
 
 286 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 mind of a Chinaman consisted of outlandish-looking 
 birds, red, blue, and yellow, almost as large as the fantasti 
 cal pagodas over which they were represented as flying, 
 having evidently been urged to perform this act by sundry 
 genteelly dressed ladies, with round faces and little feet, 
 that they the ladies, I mean might have space to 
 open the very large parasols they held over their heads, 
 and of which the handles apparently were a mile long. A 
 very jolly looking sun, on the point of going down behind 
 a blue hill, shone, notwithstanding the umbrellas, full into 
 the faces of the ladies, and must have caused them much 
 annoyance. Several green fishes were swimming around 
 in the atmosphere, the classification of which would, per 
 haps, puzzle even my friend Genio, the fisherman. This 
 bowl, the old lady said she would leave to me at her death, 
 which I think very kind in her. I shall prize the bowl, 
 doubtless, as much as she does. I have not failed to 
 notice that china purchased at the warehouses never ac 
 quires such value in the eyes of its possessor, as that 
 brought home from the East by a husband, a brother, or a 
 dear friend. I am disposed to believe, therefore, that the 
 pride the old lady has in her china, is less on account of 
 its intrinsic value, than for being the gift of the husband 
 who sailed for India and never returned. 
 
 The old lady has also a great partiality for plants. 
 Next to her china, she devotes her attention chiefly to the 
 cultivation of flowers. She has a plant-room adjoining 
 her parlor, containing more than a hundred different 
 plants, growing in jars. She took great pleasure in point 
 ing out the choice varieties, and plucked for me a nosegay 
 of the sweetest flowers in bloom. She gave me the his 
 tory of many of the plants, and mentioned their names, 
 most of which, however, I have forgotten. I remember, 
 though, the pomegranate, with its red, waxlike cup, and 
 Its flower of the same color. I noticed that the old lady 
 iked best those flowers whose perfume was the strongest,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 287 
 
 such as the Cape-jessamine, tuberose, and hyacinth. She 
 had a partiality, she said, for tulips, lilies, and poppies, which 
 are worthy garden flowers, as is also the rose, which is the 
 queen of all others. She was old-fashioned enough, too, she 
 declared, to like hollyhocks and sunflowers, lilacs and 
 syringas. Then she narrated some strange stories con 
 cerning the instincts her plants possessed ; and she solemnly 
 declared that several knew when she approached to water 
 them, and would recognize her by folding their leaves. I 
 think she said these were called sensitive-plants, which, I 
 doubt not, they are. 
 
 Besides her china and flowers, the old lady has still 
 other pets, in the shape of birds. Ten or twelve cages 
 hang in her plant-room, each of which contains one or 
 more birds. Most of these are canaries, though robins, 
 mocking-birds, and Java sparrows are to be found there. 
 Parrots are her abomination. She has several stuffed 
 birds in glass cases, old favorites, she said, raised by her 
 from the nest. She did not take as great an interest now 
 in her birds as formerly ; they required so much time and 
 care. She used to have as many as fifty birds, she de 
 clared ; but twenty was all she had at present. She 
 thought sometimes that she would give up all her birds, 
 and only keep her plants and china. " But," she con 
 tinued, * I hope this will never come to pass, and that I 
 may in the end gently fall asleep amidst my birds, so their 
 singing may remind me of the songs which emanate from 
 angels in that better land, where I pray to go when my 
 life here is ended." 
 
 After a short pause, during which she sat with folded 
 hands, she said, briskly, that she missed the black-matan 
 dog ; but now that the goat was gone, " And, kind sir," 
 she asked, " how do you get along with that goat ? " she 
 did not know that she regretted having disposed of him 
 to me. 
 
 " As far as the goat is concerned," I said, " she is most
 
 288 OUT OF TOWX. 
 
 salubrious ; and now that the cold weather has set in, and 
 there is little temptation for her to scale fences in pursuit 
 of provender, she is much less addicted than she was to 
 raids of that nature." 
 
 " She is a good goat," said the old lady, " and yields 
 her milk freely to any hand that knows how to milk her. 
 Have you learned to milk her, kind sir ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have, most estimable old lady." I replied. " but I can 
 not say that I am partial to the operation. I have tried 
 now both keeping goats and bees ; and though the employ 
 ment may be of a pastoral character, and you may even 
 quote .Scripture in praise of it, yet I do not think I envy 
 the person whose lines have fallen to him solely in a land 
 flowing with milk and honey." 
 
 Thereupon the old lady said that she thought I was 
 right, and she hoped that my lines would not fall in such 
 a land. It being by this time nearly nine o clock, and as 
 I knew that the old lady was addicted to early hours, I 
 rose to depart. But she begged me to be seated, as she 
 had one request to make of me, which she trusted I would 
 not refuse. 
 
 I said that I thought she might safely depend upon my 
 obliging her. 
 
 So. after bringing forth a dish of apples, and some hick 
 ory-nuts, and a pitcher of cider, of which we partook to 
 gether, she asked me to read aloud to her the Twenty -third 
 Psalm, which I did, and then bidding her good-night. I 
 took my leave. As I went down the stairs I heard her 
 repeating to herself, " Yea, though I walk through the 
 valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for 
 thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff comfort me."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Growing Old. Youthful Follies. "In a Vineyard." Fifty Fears ago. 
 The Old Homestead. The Garden. The Garret. Swallows. In 
 dignant. 
 
 . GRAY, my estimable wife, has recently hinted 
 to me the disagreeable fact that I am some years 
 older than when I married her. She says sly 
 wrinkles are creeping around my eyes, and gray hairs 
 mingling with mv flowing locks. I fear that it is even 
 
 o o * o 
 
 so, and that, with an increasing fondness for solid, family 
 dinners, and quiet morning calls, and a growing dislike to 
 picnics and crowded evening parties, I am in a fair way 
 to be set down, before the season is over, bv dashincr belles 
 
 / O 
 
 and fast youths, as a respectable, middle-aged gentleman. 
 
 The thought of this, I must confess, is somewhat humil 
 iating. To give up these things the picnic, the ride, 
 the dance, and the evening promenade of my own free 
 will, because they have grown distasteful to me, is bad 
 enough ; but to be elbowed out, as it were, from all these 
 youthful follies by younger and better-looking men than 
 myself or, worse still, purposely omitted or forgotten 
 in the making up of parties is, to such a sensitive being 
 as myself, really cruel, and only to be remedied by the 
 companionship of my savage literary friend over a bottle 
 of champagne and a box of cigars. This is an unfailing 
 source of consolation, and often serves to call forth pleas 
 ant reminiscences of times past, when youth and pleasure 
 went hand in hand. Sometimes, under the spell of the 
 blood of the vine, I write such rhymes as this, which my 
 friend and I sing joyfully together. 
 19
 
 290 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 IN A VINEYARD. 
 
 I YE drank all wines that earth can boast, 
 And of them all I love the most 
 
 Champagne that brightly gleams ; 
 The laughing, sparkling wine that flows 
 From grapes Charles Hcidsieck only grows, 
 
 In vineyards close by Rheims. 
 
 In the delicious harvest-time, 
 
 I wandered through the mellow clime 
 
 Of France, so warm and bright, 
 And marked, within a vineyard s bounds, 
 The lusty gatherers go their rounds, 
 
 From early morn till night. 
 
 As crowns, upon their heads they bore 
 Great baskets, heaped and running o er 
 
 With grapes of purple hue ; 
 Beneath which shone, through waving curls, 
 The blooming cheeks of peasant girls, 
 
 With eyes of black or blue. 
 
 And merry, stalwart, sun-bronzed men, 
 Drawing full wains, would, now and then, 
 
 Shouts songs in Bacchus praise. 
 Oh, rare the wine that then was made, 
 And blest the vineyard s sun and shade, 
 
 In those delightful days ! 
 
 The wine was Heidsieck s best champagne, 
 And o er the vineyard did he reign, 
 
 Its owner and its lord : 
 
 Then, drink the gallant Frenchman s health 
 May never fail his crops nor wealth ! 
 
 Hip ! hip ! with one accord. 
 
 After reading the above to Mrs. Gray, she wished to 
 know when it was that I visited France, for she never had 
 heard me speak of it before. 
 
 " It is many years ago," I replied ; " long before I knew 
 you, Mrs. Gray, and when there were no wrinkles or gray 
 hairs to annoy me."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 291 
 
 " How many years since did you say, Mr. Gray ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " Less than fifty, my dear," I answered ; " but to look 
 back to those days always fills me with regret." 
 
 " Why so, Mr. Gray ? " 
 
 " Because you, my dear, was not with me to enjoy them." 
 
 Mrs. Gray shook her head at me, and gave me to un 
 derstand that she regarded me in the light of a humbug. 
 Dear woman ! I fear she has not that confidence in my 
 veracity which as a wife she ought to possess. 
 
 " Speaking of fifty years ago, Mr. Gray," she added, 
 after a pause, " reminds me that you promised to tell me 
 something concerning your early life and home. Can you 
 not relate this to me now ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, if you desire it," I replied ; and 
 then, giving the fire a thrust with the steel poker, till the 
 sparks flew up the chimney, and the ashes out into the 
 room, I gave my wife this description of my old home 
 stead : 
 
 " Many years ago, Mrs. Gray, so many, indeed, that 
 it would sadly puzzle your youthful head to remember, 
 there stood, a little back from the main street of my 
 native village, an old wooden tenement, whose faded 
 paint, broken windows, and unhinged shutters spoke 
 plainly of desertion and decay. The walk leading from 
 the street up to the wide hall-door was grass-grown, and 
 rank May-weeds forced their way through the crevices in 
 the pavement. The thick growth of trees and bushes that 
 surrounded the house, and the full-leaved woodbine that 
 clambered over its southern exposure, even to the tops of 
 the chimneys, gave a somewhat cheerful aspect to an other 
 wise gloomy mansion. A heavy cornice, worm-eaten and 
 broken, ran around the top of the building, which was sur 
 rounded by a balustrade, ornamented with wooden urns and 
 balls. The house was two stories high, and built after the 
 manner of country houses a hundred years ago, with a
 
 292 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 wide hall running through the centre, flanked on each side 
 
 O O 
 
 by two large square rooms. Additions, however, had, as 
 the years moved on, been made by the generations that 
 successively occupied it, and wings had been added to 
 each side at different times, and to the rear out-houses in 
 numerable had been attached. 
 
 " This house my grandfather had built, and in it both 
 my father and myself were born. Shortly after my birth, 
 however, my mother, who was still youthful, a little 
 older, perhaps, than you, Mrs. Gray, are now, persuaded 
 my father to erect at the further end of the garden 
 which extended back some two hundred feet, unto a new 
 and fashionable street another and more modern man 
 sion than the old one. There, within sight of the time- 
 worn homestead, and only separated from its grounds by a 
 low picket-fence, was my boyhood passed. After I got 
 to running alone, it became a common occurrence for me 
 to make my way to the old house, and climbing through 
 a low window, ramble for hours in the deserted rooms, and 
 up and down the creaking staircase. Often, when night 
 came, and my absence from the nursery was noticed, and 
 all search for me about the new house had proved unsuc 
 cessful, I would be found stretched upon a dusty chest, in 
 the garret of the old house, fast asleep. 
 
 " This rambling about the deserted mansion had a 
 charm for me I could never understand ; and the in 
 fluence which those silent and solitary chambers exerted 
 upon my boyish mind has been felt by me through life. 
 Naturally of a retiring disposition, as you, my dear, are 
 aware, and caring little for the companionship of boys, but 
 loving better to indulge in solitary dreamings, these silent 
 communings with my own childish thoughts, in the midst 
 of dust, gloom, and cobwebs, failed not of having an ef 
 fect on my life. They influenced me to keep aloof from 
 my fellows, not from pride, but because I felt myself un 
 fitted to enter cordially into their feelings. Half poet,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 293 
 
 half dreamer, I passed through life till I was twenty, 
 knowing little of men or women. After the death of my 
 father, which occurred when I was about twelve years old, 
 my mother retired from the gayeties of life, and seldom 
 visited or received visitors. Educated at home, and solely 
 under her care till I entered college, it is not strange that 
 I, at times, even now, shrink from mingling with man 
 kind." 
 
 Mrs. Gray here interrupted me, and said she had never 
 noticed such sensitiveness in my character. It is evident 
 to me that my wife is still deficient in her knowledge of 
 me. I continued : 
 
 " From my earliest childhood, Mrs. Gray, up to the day 
 I left my fond mother for my Alma Mater, the old home 
 stead was my chosen resort ; there I dreamed my child 
 hood away ; there I learnt my boyhood s lessons, and 
 studied my Latin and Greek ; there, too, I learned to write 
 in rhyme, and there I wept silent tears over my youthful 
 grievances, and bethought me of what I would do when T 
 became a man. Ah ! Mrs. Gray, that old homestead, 
 though years have passed since I last saw it, is as clearly 
 pictured in my memory as though it was only yesterday I 
 left it. The swallows, even now, while I speak, are, doubt 
 less, flying in and out of its garret windows and unused 
 chimneys, as I have watched them do in the summer even 
 ings long since past." 
 
 " Do swallows fly in December, Mr. Gray ? " asked my 
 wife, " in the part of the country where that old tumble 
 down house is located ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not," I replied ; " but they will, my dear, 
 when summer comes." And then, indignant at Mrs. Gray, 
 I refused to add another word.
 
 294 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 My Wife receives a Present. Captain Coffin, of the Ship Fleetwing. 
 The Vale of Cashmere. Shawls. Going to Church. " Ship ahoy." 
 The Cabin. A. C. H. Official. Old Jamaica cold vs. Old Ja-mai- 
 ca hot. Ham, Turkey, and Olives. Kittens. India Shawls. 
 His Daughters not my Wife. That Monkey. A Bengal Tiger. 
 Our Menagerie. Simia Sinica. The Bonnet Monkey. Going Home. 
 Call a Coach. A Delight. A Disappointment. An Iconoclast. 
 Nuts and Candies. A Surprise. An old Battered Hulk. A dear, 
 good Old Man. Stopping Grog. Astonishing. Household Pets. 
 
 ( Y wife received, recently, a present. It came from 
 a gay and festive sea-captain, a widower, a second 
 or third cousin of mine, whose ship just arrived 
 home from India. The captain s name is Coffin, and he 
 hails from Nantucket ; at least he did hail from there when 
 a lad ; but that was fifty years ago, and now he " stops," 
 when on shore, which, however, is but seldom, for his 
 life is chiefly spent " on board ship," in New York. 
 When his ship came alongside the pier, No. 40 East River, 
 one day last week, he sent a messenger to me to give me 
 notice of his arrival, and to inform me that he had brought 
 a present from India for Mrs. Gray. 
 
 When I went home and told my wife of the old sea- 
 king s arrival, and that he had brought her home a present, 
 she immediately said it must be a shawl, an India shawl, 
 from the Vale of Cashmere. 
 
 "Ah," I said, "I have heard of the Vale of Cash 
 mere, 
 
 With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, 
 Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 
 As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave ; 
 
 but I don t know much about its shawls."
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 293 
 
 " Now, I do," said my wife, " and the shawls made in 
 that valley are the finest known. They are manufactured 
 of the inner hair of the goat raised on the table-lands of 
 Thibet, and are worth their weight in gold." 
 
 " Good ! " I exclaimed ; " but what makes you think that 
 the captain has brought you one of these shawls ? " 
 
 " Because," replied the dear woman, " when he was here, 
 three years ago, he said I ought to have one." 
 
 " Well," I said, " I hope you will not be disappointed ; 
 but you build your hopes on a very slight foundation. 
 However, we will see." 
 
 The next day being stormy, I had decided not to go 
 to town ; but my wife urged me so strongly to go, so 
 that I might bring her shawl home that afternoon, I 
 consented. She said she was fearful that the captain 
 would give it away to one of his daughters, if I neglected 
 to go for it. 
 
 Besides, she had an idea that he had come home now to 
 stay for good ; " and when captains," she continued, " who 
 have been all their lives at sea, come home to remain, what 
 is it a sign of ? " 
 
 "Why, that they are not going to sea again," I an 
 swered. 
 
 " True," she replied, " and it further is a sign that they 
 are going to get married." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " I said ; " what put that into your head ? " 
 
 " Because, the last time he was home, he said he believed 
 he would make one more voyage, and then settle down in 
 life." 
 
 " Oh, that s nothing," I replied. " He meant nothing by 
 that." 
 
 " Well, you 11 see," she said, " and I ve made up my 
 mind who his wife will be." 
 
 Who ? " I asked. 
 
 " Never mind who," she said ; " but you 11 see, and that 
 before many days have gone by. But don t you fail to go
 
 296 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 to town to-day to get that shawl, or he 11 be sure to give 
 it to Mrs. I sha n t tell you who but somebody." 
 
 I think the truth was, that, as it was Saturday, my wife 
 wished the shawl to wear to church the following day. 
 
 " If," I said, " that honest old captain has brought home 
 a shawl for you, he will not be likely to give it to any one 
 else." 
 
 " Not to either of his daughters, think you," she asked, 
 " if she should say she desired it ? " 
 
 " No," I replied ; " for, the probability is, that they each 
 have one already, or that he has also brought some home 
 for them. Besides, the captain s daughters, as I happen 
 to know, are living in Nantucket, and could not readily 
 get to New York before next week. But, notwithstand 
 ing that, I will go in town, since you wish it, and pay the 
 captain a visit on board his vessel. Still, you must not be 
 greatly disappointed if I come home without the wished- 
 for shawl. 
 
 I went to town. In the afternoon I waded down to the 
 pier through the mud and slush, and, after much trouble, 
 found the good ship Fleetwing. Why are ships always 
 termed good ? Being a stormy day, the process of unlad 
 ing was not going on, and comparative quietude brooded 
 over the old vessel, as if she were resting from her lono- 
 
 O O 
 
 voyage. The captain, however, was pacing to and fro on 
 the upper deck, in a somewhat meditative mood, keeping an 
 eye, however, on the scudding clouds, the fickle wind, and 
 the Custom-house officer engaged in drinking old Jamaica, 
 down in the cabin. The captain failed to see me until, 
 passing up the gang-plank stretching along the side of the 
 ship from the wharf to the deck, my form appeared above 
 the bulwarks. As our eyes met, 
 
 " Ship ahoy ! " I cried. 
 
 " Ship ahoy ! yourself, you lubber," he answered. 
 " Bother me," he continued, wringing my hand with a 
 grip of iron, if it is n t curious ! Here was I, this very
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 297 
 
 moment, wishing for you, and wondering what kept you 
 away. Come, let s go below." 
 
 The cabin of the Fleetwing, though small, is comfort 
 able, and even handsome. There is much panelling in it 
 of polished bird s-eye maple, surrounded with gilt beading, 
 and lighted from above with stained glass skylights. 
 Through the doors of several state-rooms opening from it I 
 saw, draping the berths, yellow satin curtains, looped up 
 with great yellow twisted silk tassels, and revealing be 
 tween them the white counterpanes covering the beds. An 
 air of neatness and cleanliness pervaded the cabin, and on 
 the rack above the mahogany table at which I seated my 
 self was a display of gleaming goblets, suggestive of many 
 pleasant drinks. On the table a cold boiled ham and a 
 roasted turkey, a dish of sardines, some olives, and bread 
 and butter, were equally suggestive of a pleasant lunch. 
 The fact is, the captain, when in port, always keeps his 
 table spread " with a plate ready," as he says, " for any 
 guest who may come alongside." 
 
 The Custom-house official, who appeared to be a good 
 honest fellow, excused himself for not rising by candidly 
 stating to me that he considered himself incapable of so 
 doing, as he had, by the express orders of the captain, been 
 sitting at that table since eight o clock, indulging in ham 
 and Jamaica cold. Considering the number of empty 
 bottles which stood before him, I came to the conclusion 
 that but few men, under like circumstances, could have 
 made as sensible a remark as he did, and who would not 
 have been found under, instead of sitting at, the table, 
 after so many hours had elapsed. His time came, however, 
 immediately after drinking a couple of Old Jamaicas hot 
 and spiced, which the captain ordered, when he retired in 
 good order, assisted by the cabin-boy, to the nearest state 
 room. 
 
 " That fellow," said the captain, confidentially, " is a pretty 
 fair drinker, considering he has been in the Custom-house
 
 298 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 only three or four years ; but he don t do it scientifically. 
 He eats too much ham, and don t swallow enough olives. 
 Let me give you another slice of turkey, my boy. I won t 
 crowd you on the Jamaica, though I think you had better 
 take another glass, for I know your good wife and 
 children will expect you home to-night. And that reminds 
 me I have a present for your wife. I had a good deal of 
 trouble in getting it here, for everybody on board ship 
 wanted it ; but no, I said, that is for my cousin s wife, 
 who knows how to appreciate it. I had n t forgot, you 
 see, those lively little kittens with which your wife and 
 the children used to play so cheerily when I was last in 
 port. And when I saw how their antics amused her, I 
 made up my mind that I would bring her something from 
 foreign parts that would take the fur off of those kittens 
 in no time." What an India shawl had to do with our 
 kittens, which became cats long ago, I could n t imagine; 
 but, as a wise man should, I held my peace. 
 
 Thereupon the captain called the cabin-boy and ordered 
 him to bring to him something ; but what it was I did not 
 hear. 
 
 " Now," said the captain, " go with me into my state 
 room, and let me show you some pretty things I have in 
 my chest." And we went. 
 
 Then the captain drew forth from the inmost recesses of 
 his chest a carefully folded package, and, upon opening it, 
 revealed several India shawls, rich in pattern and of a 
 fabulous price. 
 
 " There," said the bluff old captain, " are three shawls, 
 which I brought home for three of the best women in the 
 Union, my three girls." 
 
 " His daughters ! " I thought. " Alas ! how disappointed 
 my poor wife will be." 
 
 My interest in the shawls greatly abated when I learned 
 for whom they were intended. 
 
 " But which one," asked the captain, " do you think the 
 handsomest ? "
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 299 
 
 I pointed it out. 
 
 " The very one," he continued, " which I selected for 
 Jennie, who was named after my poor wife. But here 
 comes the boy with the present for Mrs. Gray. Talk 
 about the fun in kittens ! Why, that monkey will beat 
 them all." 
 
 " A monkey ! " I exclaimed, in despair ; " that will be a 
 nice thing to take home to my wife." 
 
 " I m glad you like it," said the captain ; " for, to confess 
 the truth, I was a little doubtful as to whether you and 
 your wife would appreciate it." 
 
 " Appreciate it ! " I echoed. " My dear friend, nothing, 
 of course, could have pleased us better, except, perhaps, a 
 regular Bengal tiger, fresh from his native jungles." 
 
 " You don t say so ? " cried the captain, innocently, and 
 in a self-reproaching tone. " My dear boy, drown me 
 if I don t bring you one on my next return voyage." 
 
 " For Heaven s sake ! " I said, " don t put yourself out to 
 get one. I think we will get along well enough, at Wood 
 bine Cottage, with the monkey, without troubling you to 
 add to our menagerie." 
 
 " ]S T o, no," said the captain, " I ll do it for you ; and when 
 Captain Coffin gives his word, you may be certain he ll 
 never break it. That kind of thing don t run in the 
 family." 
 
 All this time the monkey stood in the cabin chattering 
 and snapping at the boy, who held him by a chain, and 
 against whom, as I afterward learned, he entertained the 
 
 O 
 
 utmost dislike, on account of sundry cruel acts of the boy 
 towards him. 
 
 The moment, however, that he heard the captain s voice 
 calling him " Bonney," a name given to him on account 
 of his having what appears like a sort of bonnet, and 
 which was an abbreviation of that word, he became 
 quiet, and the boy loosing him, he sprung toward the cap 
 tain, jumped upon his shoulder, and commenced pulling 
 his whiskers.
 
 300 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 The species of this monkey or ape is the Macaque, and 
 is known among naturalists as the simia sinica. His color 
 is brown, but on the upper part of the head is a portion of 
 white, which diverges outward in a raylike form. The 
 face is flesh-colored, and the under surface of the body 
 white. He is only about a foot and a half in height, and 
 is, so the captain assured me, most teachable as well as 
 mischievous. 
 
 The captain caused him to go through many of the 
 tricks which he had taught him, until at last, notwithstand 
 ing my disappointment, I began to get quite interested in 
 the little rascal, and consoled myself by thinking that the 
 children, at least, would be more delighted with that mon 
 key than if their mother had received the costliest of shawls. 
 
 As it was getting late, I told the captain I would have to 
 go, and that I would try to send for the monkey on Mon 
 day, as it would be impossible for me to take him myself. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried the captain ; " I had a nice little tin 
 cage made for him, into which you can put him, and then, 
 tucking it under your arm, walk off." 
 
 " No," I said ; " it s snowing, and that monkey will catch 
 his death-cold, if exposed to the night air." 
 
 " Bosh ! " exclaimed the captain ; " I 11 call a coach, and 
 then you can both ride up to the cars in comfort." 
 
 " Why," I said, half to myself and half aloud, " do cap 
 tains in port always call coaches if they want to go a block 
 or two?" 
 
 " I suppose," said the captain, in the same aside voice, 
 " it is because we have always our sea-legs on, and we 
 don t like to expose our professional character to land 
 lubbers." 
 
 The coach was called, and then, to my surprise, the cap 
 tain insisted upon seeing me safely home to Woodbine 
 Cottage. I think he was afraid that I would make away 
 with, or in some manner dispose of, that monkey before I 
 reached home, unless he accompanied me as a kind of
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 301 
 
 special policeman. It could not be that he regarded me 
 as being under the influence of Jamaica hot and spiced, 
 for my libations in that line had been neither frequent nor 
 deep. As I showed by my manner that the present was 
 not over acceptable, he thought, perhaps, that I might dis 
 pose of his pet to some itinerant organ-grinder. 
 
 So home we together went. The old captain in the jol- 
 liest of spirits, and I somewhat disposed to be snappish. 
 I knew that my wife had set her heart upon having a 
 shawl, a real Cashmere, and now to appear before her with 
 a monkey instead, did n t seem to me to be a pleasant 
 thing. 
 
 Had I gone to the cars alone, I should probably have 
 stopped in Broadway and bought some little gift for my 
 wife ; but, somehow, with the captain beside me, spinning 
 all kinds of sailor yarns, and the monkey chattering on the 
 opposite seat, this good intention of mine was quite for 
 gotten, until we were entering the door of my house. Of 
 course it was then too late. 
 
 My wife met us in the hall. She received the captain 
 warmly, and allowed the old rascal to kiss her cheek. 
 When the monkey was brought forward, the little ones 
 were delighted with him, and soon had him out of his 
 cage ; but immediately, frightened by the unaccustomed 
 noise, he sprung to the top of one of the bookcases, knock 
 ing down, in so doing, a couple of Rogers s statuettes, 
 which were broken to pieces on the floor. There he sat, 
 chattering and grinning, until coaxed down by the captain, 
 who, for safety, put him back into his cage. Then my 
 little boy stuck a finger through the bars, and the monkey 
 nipped it. Then the boy cried, and the captain scolded 
 the monkey, interlarding it with a sea-oath or two, and the 
 monkey scolded back. Then my wife declared that she 
 would n t have such a pest in the house, and hoped that the 
 captain, when he went, would carry him back with him to 
 town.
 
 302 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 In the mean time, taking me quietly aside, the dear 
 woman had asked me where was the shawl, and I was 
 obliged to tell her that the captain had brought no shawl 
 for her, but that the monkey was the present. The disap 
 pointment of my wife was sad to observe, but she bore 
 up under it bravely; and though her eyes grew just a trifle 
 moist, and the lips quivered just a little bit, she soon 
 looked up at me smilingly, and the above observation of 
 hers, in regard to the captain carrying the monkey back 
 again to the ship, was all that she allowed herself to ex 
 press of her disappointment. 
 
 Then we had dinner, and the captain felt very happy, 
 and recalled former occasions when we had met, as now, 
 about the social board. The monkey got quieted, and, 
 after dinner, allowed the little ones to feed him, and, after 
 a while, was let out of his cage again, without committing 
 any serious act of mischief, except slinging the cat, who 
 incautiously ventured into the room to take a look at the 
 stranger, through a pane of glass, out into the garden. 
 
 When the little ones who had eaten their fill of can 
 dies and nuts, which the captain obtained from the capa 
 cious pockets of his overcoat, hanging in the hall had 
 kissed all around and gone to bed, and only we three 
 for Miss Floy was in the nursery, hearing the children say 
 their prayers, which they did as well as they could for the 
 sugar-plums in their mouths were seated before the 
 blazing fire, enjoying the warmth and steaming cups of 
 tea, and talking Christmas talk, the old captain made one 
 more visit to his overcoat, and, returning therefrom, placed 
 a package in my wife s hands, which proved, when she 
 opened it, to be what ever since I had seen the captain 
 striving to conceal it in the cars under his coat, I had 
 hoped it would, a shawl from the Vale of Cashmere, 
 the duplicate of the one I regarded as the handsomest. 
 
 My wife s eyes sparkled, her lips smiled, though she said 
 nothing, but simply took the old captain s hand in hers.
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 303 
 
 " You old battered hulk, you," I exclaimed, " I might 
 have known you were humbugging me. You are always 
 teasing people in this way. What a life you must lead 
 your sailors out at sea ! I would n t be one of them for 
 the world." 
 
 " And I would n t have you one of em for a good many 
 worlds. What could you do aboard ship, I d like to know ? 
 I d have to stop your grog and rope s-end you every day 
 through the entire voyage. You d do no more work than 
 a monkey." 
 
 " Hang your monkey ! " I said ; " the best thing you can 
 do for him is to take him back to Calcutta; for if you 
 leave him here, I 11 send him to join Barnum s Happy 
 Family. " 
 
 " Not exactly, Mr. Gray," said my wife ; " remember he 
 is not yours to give away ; he is mine, and we will keep 
 him here, and call him Captain, after our dear, good old 
 friend here." 
 
 "It is astonishing," I said, "what a difference the present 
 of a shawl can make in the feelings of a woman, A few 
 minutes ago you yourself had requested the captain to take 
 him back to town." 
 
 " That was because he bit the little boy," she replied. 
 " When he becomes acquainted with the children he won t 
 bite or annoy them in any way, will he ? " 
 
 " No," answered the captain ; " he 11 be quite like a lamb 
 in a few days, and I know the little ones will be delighted 
 with his antics." 
 
 And so it was resolved that the monkey should remain, 
 and become one of the household pets. Although only a 
 few days have passed since he came among us, he has 
 already become the terror of our two cats, the enemy of 
 the dogs Gumbo and Jack, Sinbad the Sailor s old man to 
 the goat, the annoyance of our neighbors, and the iconoclast 
 and something more to Woodbine Cottage.
 
 304 OUT OF TOWN 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Woodbine Cottage is invited to a Wedding. The Happy Couple. My 
 Old Lady and the Captain. Mrs. Gray s Suspicions. Alongside. 
 The Cherub aloft. A Black Bottle. A Wedding Present. Sunday 
 Morning. No Nonsense. Silvery Locks and Youthful Hearts. A 
 Romance. " Stern Parient." The Wedding Day. The Groom s 
 Attire. The Bride s Dress. A Good Custom ; an Improvement upon it. 
 Cheer, Boy, Cheer ! Mr. Stricklebat s Success. Miss Floy willing. 
 The Dinner. Speeches, Songs, and Stories. Amen ! A Dance. A 
 Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. 
 
 HE inmates of Woodbine Cottage have recently 
 attended a wedding. It is a pleasant thing to go 
 to a wedding, especially if you are acquainted 
 with the parties who are to be married. On the present 
 occasion both my wife and myself had the pleasure of 
 knowing the bride and groom. The latter had been a 
 friend of ours for many years, though the former was an 
 acquaintance only of a few months. To say that we were 
 surprised when we received our invitation would but 
 slightly express our feelings. I was not aware, until 
 asked to the wedding, that either of the two knew each 
 other, although my wife pretended that she knew all 
 about it. I often think that women possess an intuitive 
 knowledge of these matters. When, therefore, our friend, 
 the captain, told us, as we sat around the blazing wood-fire 
 the evening he came home with me, that he was going to 
 be married, and, leaving the sea, and settling down in the 
 country, become a neighbor of ours, I was greatly aston 
 ished ; nor was my astonishment diminished when he in 
 formed us who he intended to marry. I will give my 
 wife the credit of saying after she learned the name,
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 305 
 
 however, of the coming bride that she had suspected, 
 ever since the day I took tea with my old lady of black- 
 matan memory, that she had an object in inviting me to 
 her house which I did n t know, and now she was certain 
 of it. 
 
 Of course, it was very easy for Mrs. Gray, after she 
 knew that it was this old lady whom the captain was to 
 marry, to state her suspicions as above ; but that she had 
 not previously done so I was certain, though I did not care 
 to ask her why she had refrained. 
 
 " Yes," said the old captain, nursing his gouty leg upon 
 his knee, and puffing forth a cloud of tobacco smoke, 
 " I promised the old lady, when I was last in port, 
 that, if I lived to return from this voyage, I d place 
 my craft alongside of hers, and, in calm and in tempest, 
 foul weather and fair, as long as this old hull kept above 
 water, we d float together on the tide, steering clear of 
 all rocks and sand-bars as lay in our course, until, finally, 
 the safe haven of rest was reached. I feel good, my boy," 
 he continued, still stroking his leg, " for ten years to come 
 on this ere table-land ; and, though we can t always tell as 
 to how long we shall be permitted to weather the gale of 
 life, yet, as I have n t lived many of my days on land, I 
 have a notion that the cherub who sits up aloft to keep 
 watch o er the fate of poor Jack, as the song has it, is n t 
 going to let me be put under hatches until I ve had a 
 chance to try again the kind o life which Adam used to 
 lead in Paradise afore Eve went against orders. 
 
 " It s a good many years," continued the captain, putting 
 his unfinished cup of tea aside, and reaching out for the 
 black bottle which was conveniently beside him, " nigh on 
 to fifty, since I was first married, and, though I enjoyed my 
 wife s society going on for five years, most of which time 
 we were together, yet I knew little about living on shore, 
 for I used to take my wife to sea with me wherever I went. 
 She left me, one day, for that better land ; and now that 
 
 20
 
 306 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 my daughters are all married and settled, I have an idea 
 that I d like to end my days on the land, and possess, once 
 more, the comfort of a home. I ve known the old lady 
 ever since I was a boy, for we went to school together, and 
 her husband and myself were mates, and sailed in the 
 same ship many a year. He went to Davy Jones s locker 
 long ago, and now I m going to marry his widow ; " and 
 the captain took a long pull from the black bottle, heaved a 
 deep sigh, and looked up inquiringly into my face. 
 
 " Well, I don t know," I said, " that you could do bet 
 ter than marry my old lady. She is a nice body, very 
 neat and particular as regards the appearance of her tea- 
 table, and makes the lightest of biscuits and the strongest 
 of tea." 
 
 " I don t feel," said the captain, " that I care much for 
 tea; but if she takes kindly to Jamaica, hot and spiced, 
 and don t object to my smoking, I think we may get along 
 quite well together." 
 
 " Tobacco smoke," I said, " is a sure remedy for bugs on 
 plants ; and as she has a fine collection of geraniums, rose 
 bushes, japonicas, etc., you can tell her that you smoke 
 almost solely for the purpose of keeping her plants in a 
 healthy state. Then, too, she is very fond of pets of all 
 kinds, and it would not be a bad idea for you to present 
 her, for a wedding present, with the monkey you were so 
 kind as to bring my wife. I am certain that, for such a 
 purpose, she would willingly resign it to you again." 
 
 " No, no ! " exclaimed the captain, " you shall not be 
 called on to give up that monkey. He shall belong to you 
 and yours for generations to come, and every boy and girl 
 in your family will find much delight in his companion 
 ship." 
 
 The captain was evidently a little shy about visiting my 
 old lady alone, and made me promise that I would accom 
 pany him thither the next day. 
 
 It was a bright, sunshiny Sunday morning when the
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 307 
 
 captain and myself drove over to the Corners, to call on 
 my old lady. As the captain left the house, the goat, prob 
 ably not approving of the match, gave him a taste of her 
 fighting powers, laying him sprawling in the dust. 
 
 There will be no confounded nonsense," said the cap 
 tain to me as we rode along, " between that old lady and 
 myself when we meet. Hugging, and kissing, and that 
 sort of stuff will do well enough for youngsters like you, 
 but I m too old a bird for that kind of work. It s enough 
 for me to be tender-like with my daughters, without tak 
 ing every old woman into my arms who comes along." 
 
 Remembering this speech of the captain s, therefore, I 
 was somewhat surprised to see the warmth with which that 
 old couple embraced when they met, and the affectionate 
 glances which they cast one on the other. Still, it was a 
 pleasant sight to see the simple, honest affection of those 
 two old souls, and to know that, notwithstanding their 
 silvery locks, youthful hearts were beating in their bosoms. 
 
 The old lady, in the innocence of her life, said : " You 
 must excuse us, kind sir, for thus displaying our regard for 
 each other before you ; but we used to be sweethearts 
 many and many a year ago, and though Providence willed 
 it that we should not marry in our youth, yet I think we 
 always thought of each other with kindness, and, perhaps, 
 hoped that some day in the future would find us man and 
 wife." 
 
 " An event," I said, " which now promises very soon to 
 be consummated." 
 
 The old lady smiled, nodded her head approvingly, and 
 folded her hands quietly upon her lap. The captain put 
 an enormous quid of tobacco into his mouth, and then 
 blew a stentorian blast upon his nose. 
 
 " From the way in which you speak, my dear old lady," 
 I said, " there must have been something of a romance be 
 tween you and the captain in your earlier days." 
 
 " Not much," she replied ; " but you know the course
 
 308 OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 of true love, as the playman has it, never did run 
 smooth. 
 
 " Ah ! I see," I said ; " another case of a stern parient 
 interfering." 
 
 " That was it," she replied ; " and though we sorrowed 
 at first, and were very unhappy for a time, yet, as young 
 hearts will, we lived through it, and enjoyed domestic 
 happiness afterwards probably as well, kind sir, as most 
 people." 
 
 " And now," I said, " after many years, early love is 
 resurrected, and secret constancy rewarded by marriage." 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated the captain. 
 
 As neither the old lady or the captain had any especial 
 preparations to make for the occasion, it was agreed to 
 have the wedding take place on the following Wednesday, 
 and I was delegated to see the Rev. Mr. Stricklebat, and 
 engage him to perform the ceremony. In the mean time 
 the captain returned to his ship, the old lady resumed her 
 knitting, and I went back to the bosom of my family. 
 
 On the day of the wedding the captain was in the most 
 radiant of humors. He was arrayed in what, to him, was 
 most gorgeous attire ; a blue coat with gilt buttons, a buif 
 waistcoat, a white necktie, a ruffled shirt, low-quartered 
 shoes, and black-satin breeches, the relic of former days, 
 completed the adornment of the outer man. He was 
 constantly flourishing in air an India handkerchief, of red 
 silk, studded with white spots, which added materially to 
 .his festal appearance. 
 
 My old lady wore a dove-colored silk dress, with lace 
 mitts of the same color, and a tasty cap, trimmed with 
 white ribbons. She was very quiet and thoughtful, and, 
 just before the ceremony, passed around, with her own 
 hands, to her guests a plate of thin, brittle cakes, filled 
 with caraway-seeds, and small glasses of currant-wine, both 
 of which she herself had made. This was a custom, she 
 said, which had been followed in her family for many gen-
 
 OUT. OF TOWN. 309 
 
 erations, and was observed, not only at weddings, but at 
 christenings and funerals. 
 
 " And a very good custom it is, too," said the captain ; 
 and then aside to me, " though I think the cakes might be 
 thicker, and the wine a trifle stronger, without injury to 
 any one. Come with me quietly," he continued, " and I 11 
 show you an improvement on this." 
 
 And the captain led the way to a closet off of the hall, 
 where he produced a black bottle, still half full of Old 
 Jamaica, and the remains of a cold duck. 
 
 " There," said the captain, " lay to, my boy, and help 
 yourself. T will serve to keep your spirits up during this 
 trying occasion. Don t be down-hearted, lad, t will soon 
 be over ; and though the ceremony is something like going 
 through the breakers, it will be plain sailing enough after 
 wards. I ve gone over that track once before, and I know 
 all about it. Cheer, boy, cheer ! " and the captain softly 
 whistled the air of a sea ditty, as we went back to the 
 parlor. 
 
 To have heard the captain talk, one would have thought 
 that it was I instead of he who was about to be married. 
 
 I have been present at a good many weddings, but at 
 none have I been more deeply impressed with its solemn 
 character than on this occasion. There stood two persons 
 who, nearly fifty years before, had loved each other, but 
 whom Fate had parted, and who now came together again, 
 to renew and consummate the vows made in their youth. 
 Many sorrows and many joys had doubtless been theirs. 
 Children had grown up around them, and, marrying, had 
 left them for homes of their own ; and now, they being 
 once more alone in the world, turned again to each other ; 
 and, though their once dark hair was strewn with white, 
 their eyes had lost their brightness, and wrinkles had 
 chased the bloom from their cheeks, the clasp of their 
 hands was as warm as when they wooed and lost each 
 other so many years ago.
 
 310 .OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 It was conceded by all present that, in the performance 
 of the ceremony, the Kev. Mr. Stricklebat did himself 
 great credit, and that his address to the married couple 
 was a model one of its kind. It seemed -to me, after he 
 had concluded it, that he looked inquiringly around the 
 room, as if desirous of finding another couple to hind in 
 the silken web of matrimony. Miss Floy being the only 
 marriageable person in the room, his eye rested long and 
 earnestly upon her ; but, however willing she might have 
 been to sacrifice herself, as there was no one present who 
 could, without committing bigamy, stand up with her in 
 marriage, the parson was fain to postpone, until another 
 time, her victimization. After the ceremony, " Now," said 
 the captain, feelingly, " let us have a gay old time." The 
 bride said we might regard the occasion as her and her 
 husband s golden wedding, to which the parson replied 
 Amen ! Then we went to dinner ; such a dinner as comes 
 only at Thanksgiving or Christmas time, when turkeys, 
 boiled and roasted ; and geese and ducks, savory with 
 sage and onions ; and chicken-pies, and boiled hams, and 
 great rounds of beef, and plum-puddings, and apple and 
 pumpkin and mince pies, flanked by tarts innumerable, 
 grace the mahogany, and still and sparkling wines, and 
 stronger compounds, flow in profusion. 
 
 After dinner, the captain, who grew more jolly as the 
 hours passed, made a speech, which, though interlarded 
 with an occasional objectionable sailor epithet, the parson, 
 nevertheless, said Amen to. Then my savage literary 
 friend sang the song of " Good Saint Anthony," and the 
 parson still said Amen ! Afterward, I told a pathetic story 
 about a couple of old babes who got lost in a wood. 
 Whereupon the parson, in his most lugubrious tone, again 
 said Amen ! The truth was, that the parson was satis 
 fied with everything, and had been ever since I placed in 
 his hands, as a fee from the captain, a fifty-dollar green 
 back. He forgot to say Amen to that, but made it up after-
 
 OUT OF TOWN. 311 
 
 ward by saying it when the dogs Gumbo and Jack got into 
 a fight over the turkey bones, and both severely whipped 
 each other. 
 
 The evening was wound up with a dance, and the cap 
 tain and his old lady, my old lady, alas ! no longer, as 
 they footed it up and down to the tune of " Money-Musk," 
 grew as light of foot and as gay of heart as when, a boy 
 and girl, they had danced together fifty years before. 
 With many wishes for the future health and happiness of 
 the captain and the old lady, we all bade them good-by, 
 and leaving them at home, went home ourselves. 
 
 And now, with this account of a wedding, a fitting 
 conclusion to this rural episode in my life, I will bid 
 farewell to those who have followed me through these 
 pages, hoping to meet them again, under still more felici 
 tous circumstances. 
 
 THE END.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 104 449 4