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" Older than the Shenandoah mountains is love." 





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FROM the hour the author stood by the dead face of 
Abraham Lincoln, in the Executive Mansion at Washington, 
he has had the idea of writing a romance upon the conspir 
acy of Booth. 

Like many such literary projects nursed by a journalist, 
this one had not only to be postponed, but finally to become 
a portion of a broader story, because too many of the actors 
in the tragedy still lived, and the mere crime presented no 
elevated moral to justify its embellishment. 

Considering it, however, as one of a series of cumulative 
acts of violence committed upon or from the soil of Mary 
land during the conflict of Emancipation, the author felt not 
only an epic propriety to be in the theme, but it appealed 
to him as a descendant of Marylanders and one who had 
already, in his romance of "The Entailed Hat," pictured 
the twin lobe of Maryland and the rise of the slave interest. 

The temptation to paint the more picturesque Western 
Shore, from the old Catholic tide- water counties and the met 
ropolitan life of Washington and Baltimore to the German 
valleys and the mountain battle-fields, was not to be dis 
missed, either by the sacrifice it would require, or from the 
delicacy of a generation still alive. 

Experimenting with the subject, the author found such 
rapid changes taking place in all this region, in thought as 
well as in things, that he believed it would be next to im 
possible in twenty years more for any one to realize the soci- 


ety which came first into national notice when Booth made 
his hegira through it. Besides, the author s stock of materi 
als, made complete by visits and searches of nineteen years, 
required the interpretation of his own eye and hand. 

He felt that, while to have written this book earlier would 
have been to speak too harshly and too narrowly of some 
agents in the crime, to postpone the composition longer 
would have been to remand it to mere antiquarian literature 
and lose the missionary use and the heartiness of adventure ; 
for, when he knew Booth personally and saw his associates 
executed, the author was turning into twenty-five, and, when 
he unraveled the skein of Booth s concealment and flight 
after the crime, the author was turning forty-four years. 
Voters had grown up in the interim who had been but tot- 
tling babes when the mighty war ceased with this sacrificial 
mass, and the President s death ended the wild Maryland 
epic, of which the raid of John Brown, the Baltimore riots, 
Antietam battle, and the spy system in the old Potomac 
counties were elements. 

Enough of all this was yet undiscovered to leave space 
for fancy to enliven the athletic game, and in one or two 
cases characters have been wholly invented, or rather made 
out of general types and conditions, to replace others not 
proper to be copied. 

The author not only lived contemporary with the per 
sonages of his book, but he was an active traveler and sight 
seer with and among them. No natural scene is sketched 
in this book that did not dwell upon his sight, and he trusts 
that the impassioned scenes of action have been tinted in 
subordination to a national and human philosophy. 

GAPLAND, MD., 1886. 















XXII. THE YANKEE . .- : . 












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I6 7 

I 9 8 











XXXVII. " TICK-A-TOCK-A ! " . ^ . 























" MARYLAND is only a rim of shore, a shell of mountain, but all 
gold ! " 

So said Lloyd Ouantrell, the gunner, looking down from the 
South Mountain upon Middletown or Catoctin Valley, an October 
Saturday in the year 1859. 

The mellow light of afternoon touched or bathed the hundred 
farms, the bridges, barns, hamlets, stacks, corn-rows, brown woods, 
streams and stone walls, and with a fruity smell, as of cider-presses, 
seemed to come up the tone of bells ringing the Marylanders home 
from the labors of the week. 

He saw the red and white spires of Middletown in the lap of the 
valley like its babe, and thought he saw, beyond its Catoctin Mount 
ain knees, the father Frederick, the good old burgher, holding his 
devout fingers up, like index boards at the junction of his many pike 

Then fancy spread other terraces of Maryland, farther and far 
ther on, like descending steps of gold and marble, beyond the hills 
of Sugarloaf and Linganore, to where Potomac and Patapsco blended 
their cascades and ocean-tides at the shrines of Washington and 

Lloyd Quantrell s dog put his nose in the air silently, looking 
also downward, as if he scented, with the pheasants of the mount 
ain, the sea-fowl of the Chesapeake. 

A train of cars was crossing the mouth of Catoctin Valley from 
the dark chasm of Harper s Ferry, as the dog started back along 


the mountain-top, " pointing " for a bird ; and when Lloyd had fol 
lowed and fired at and missed the bird, he saw another view in the 
west, all flooded with the sunset the plateau between the Antietam 
and Potomac, stretching in woodland or crystal to the North Mount 
ain and the Conococheague. 

Here, amid equal abundance, a wilder paradise extended, as if 
nature s ruggedness had somewhat delayed the gardener hands of 

.Beneath Quatitrdl s eye, to the left, a short, bold mountain in 
truded, which- had be gun a_ race with the South Mountain for the 
Pennsylvania lme> but ^ topped in sight of the white clusters of set 
tlement toward HagerStcAYiX discouraged at their beauty and multi 
tude, like Balaam s stride arrested by the Hebrew camps. 

Between this, Elk Ridge (or Maryland Heights) Mountain, and 
his own, and in the narrow peninsula beyond, where the Potomac 
begged a passage to the Shenandoah, a few wild farms found lodg 
ment, as if poor, fugitive, and hermit men had clung there to a fun 
nel, and now their white log and plaster houses and decayed black 
barns, in the midst of small mountain orchards, sent up to Quantrell 
light spirals of smoke, or flame of burning brushwood, or bells of 
milch-cows tinkling in alder-copses. 

Where these wild homes and startled spurs of mountain halted, 
the basin of the great Cumberland Valley fell away indistinctly, and 
Keedysville lay in the foreground, like a bunch of the American 

The colors in the landscape were gold, purple, chrome, and all 
varieties of autumnal blue and gray, and, as if they were mixed in a 
cup, the young Baltimore sportsman drank them in and pined to 
understand the delight : for the love of scenery yearns to become an 

In all this patriotic prospect there was no responsive heart, and 
Lloyd Quantrell was still unbeloved. 

New pulses had beat of late in him, and, like the hair upon his lip, 
sentiment had begun to grow : the idea of woman followed him 
about of no one woman but of womankind, and in this glowing 
Eden of his native State the scenery seemed to lack a sympathetic 
spirit to reach up her white arms from the vale and cry : " Come 
down, my love, appointed for me ; and I will make thy soul at rest, 
to enjoy every prospect, which, lonely, thou never canst ! " 

Beautiful, detached time of life ! when, like a mote of the 


Italian poplar s pollen blowing in the air to find the female cup, the 
souls of two young, destined people, yet unknown, solicit each other 
in the world. 

The crude, destructive instincts of the young man were expressed 
aloud in his emotion between savagery and art : 

" What would I do if all this was mine, on both sides of the 
mountain ? " Lloyd Quantrell said. " Let me see ! Why, I would 
clean out the whole region, like a Norman king, and make it a hunt 
ing park. All the wild beasts once here should return again none 
but native American beasts, you bet ! I would let them make their 
dens and shelters in these towns. The people would have to go 
go West, I suppose and then these stone, brick, and timber villages 
would decay, and we should have real American ruins in a few 
years. Too many Dutch are in this up-country for me! Instead 
of a lot of Dutchmen going to Baltimore market, we should have 
hunters sending down deer and bear. I would bring the buffaloes 
back from the West for they used to herd here too, in the early 
day and let them make dust, like an army, as they galloped be 
fore my hunters The wolf should howl again, to make the mount 
ains romantic. I would have grizzlies hug each other, panthers 
sneak away and prowl nearer again, and foxes should be protected, 
so that every day would be a morning chase. My castle I would 
put on the South Mountain, right here where I stand." 

He stopped, thinking what would a castle be without a lady. 
But in a minute his mind ran along with the vision : 

"I think," he resumed, "that I would not disturb the Dutch 
beauties, for I would need a few vassals, and, to reconcile these and 
give me society, I might marry one of them. Yes, she should be 
the rosiest of all. I would educate her and make her my baroness ; 
Baroness of the Blue Ridge." 

As his thoughts, like the predatory hawk, flew back to a domes 
tic nest and mate, Lloyd basked a moment in the soft, languorous 
vision of a settlement in life, till the dog whined and pointed, and, 
looking where it indicated, the gunner saw, in the edge of the woods, 
a few steps distant, a strange, primitive old man, accompanied by 
two young companions, watching him. 

The apparition was more lean than tall, and dressed in dark 
woolens, cut almost Quaker fashion, and his waistcoat was but 
toned nearly up to a leather stock around the tough whip-cords in 
his throat, which were revealed when he took his bushy gray beard 


in one hand and drew it aside, looking meantime at young Quantrell 
with a pair of severe, gray-blue eyes. 

The intruder s hair was brushed straight up from a rather low, 
receding forehead. He had a hawkish nose, and the beard which 
encircled his face, and would have fallen low upon his breast, stood 
outward at his chin like autumn brush against a rock. 

" If this is your land, you don t mind my gunning on it ? " spoke 

" It is not my land, sir," answered the man, not finishing his 
searching look. 

" Then I don t see why you look at me so hard, friend, unless I 
have stolen something." 

" Are you from Virginia ? " asked the man. 

" No, I am from Maryland from Baltimore." 

" You have been walking around this country three days ! " 

" There s no law against that, old man. I have been shooting, 
what little there is, and picking a few fish out of the brooks. Have 
you been following me all the time ? " 

" I have seen you around my dwelling, sir, on two occasions, 
yesterday and the day before," continued the mountaineer, "and 
you are here still." 

" Upon my word, friend, I don t see why I shouldn t pass your 
dwelling every day of my holiday here, particularly as I don t know 
where it is ! " 

An idea crossed Lloyd Quantrell s mind that there might be 
robbers in these mountains, and he gave a glance at the two other 

They were young fellows, and, in appearance, were so nearly 
the same, that observing one, answered for both ; of good height, 
spare-faced and sunburned, sallow, worn thin, and with long, dark 
hair and beards ; mere rustics to look at, with some passing alert 
ness of curiosity now, but too docile and gentle to retain a preda 
tory purpose. 

This time Lloyd Quantrell guessed that they might be an old 
preacher and his two sons, of Mennonite, or Dunker, or some mount 
ain Dutch sect. But the nasal tone of the old man, and his bold, 
grave address, made Lloyd think again that he had seen such men 
bringing horses to Baltimore market from Ohio and the West. 

The only sign of offensive warfare they possessed was a kind of 
spear of steel, like a broad, double-edged knife-blade, with a cross- 


piece or guard below, and carried upon a wooden pole by one of 
the younger persons. 

" What have you there, my friend ? " asked Quantrell, walking 
over freshly. " It looks like what we called at school a gig, to 
spear suckers and pike." 

" I calkelate you hit it right the first time," said the possessor, 
smiling agreeably. 

" We live over beyond the Short Mountain there," explained the 
other young man ; " down on the river road to the ferry. Since 
we ve been here, so few well-dressed strangers have gone past, that 
father was a little surprised at you that s all." 

" Then we are all Marylanders," exclaimed Quantrell, "and I m 
glad of that, because I have been lonesome for somebody to drink 
with me. Here s a flask of old Needwood whisky, I know I can 
recommend ! Age before beauty, pop ! " 

He extended the flask to the old man and winked at the boys. 

" It s something I never drank, sir, in my life," spoke the firm 
old man, shaking his head. 

Lloyd then turned to the boys. 

" We re not accustomed to it, friend," said the elder of these, 
"but don t let us interfere withjww." 

Quantrell drank, and liked it so well that he drank twice, and 
then, laying down his gun and calling in his dog, he felt familiar 
and companionable with all men. He produced cigars and a fuse, 
and offered his cigar-case to the party. 

"We re unfortunate," said the younger of the sons ; "neither 
father nor we boys smoke, or use tobacco." 

" Sit down, anyway," said the young man from the city ; " there s 
the habit of talk, that is common to all. What is your name ? 
Smith will do ; anything to begin on." 

" You re a good guesser. Smith is what it is," spoke the old 
man, taking off his wool hat and stretching himself on the rocks 
and grass. " Isaac Smith and yours ? " 

"Quantrell, of Baltimore." 

" Ah ! " exclaimed Mr. Smith, " that is the name of one of the 
slave-dealers there ! " 

" Yes," said Lloyd, reddening a little, " that s unfortunately an 
uncle of mine. He s managed, by the notoriety of the business, to 
have me identified pretty generally. It s a business I shouldn t go 
into because it s not a gentleman s," 


The young men, as if interested, now stretched themselves on 
the mountain-slope, and the older man, changing his look to one 
more neighborly, said, in an impressive yet kind voice : 

" Hardly a good Christian business, Mr. Quantrell ! A business 
has got to be good, I think, sir, to insure any prosperity. If nobody 
could be found to *trade in slaves, the evils of slavery would be 
small, because they would not be sent to great distances and worked 
up on the plantations. It would then not be profitable. Slavery 
in Maryland, except in two or three counties, is a trifling mat 

"Yes," said Lloyd, "it s small, except in the tobacco counties, 
and they, as you have said, don t seem to prosper. But I hope you 
ain t an abolitionist, Mr. Smith ? " 

" Unfortunately, I am a slaveholder," said Smith, straightfor 

" How many negroes have you got ? " 

" Six." 

"Why, pop," answered Lloyd, familiarly, "you re a man of 
property ! What are negroes worth, up this way ? " 

" They re higher than they will be, I think," said Mr. Smith, re- 

Quantrell looked at the old man s Judaic nose and wrinkled 
bridge thereof, and wad of grizzly hair above his grizzled, updrawn 
eyebrows, with the gray-blue eyes wide apart, cool and deep as 
frozen springs, and that mouth, which was like a fissure in granite, 
and again it seemed to the young man that there was something 
wild in Mr. Smith. 

"Yet," he reflected, "Smith is a man more substantial every 
way than he looks. Six negroes and a farm, and reasoning so ra 
tionally against his interests and with religious views, too ! " 

" What are your politics, Smith ? " asked Lloyd. " I ll be frank 
with you, and tell you, I m an American." 

" Why, so am I, Mr. Quantrell ! " 

" Shake hands on it, old fellow," cried Lloyd, while the sons 
laughed aloud to see the city stranger s open temperament pushing 
the acquaintance. 

" I m just keyed up on that," repeated Lloyd, clasping Mr. 
Smith s hands heartily, "for there are too many Dutch and Irish in 
this, our country. Down in Baltimore we have got them on the 
run. I m a cock-robin I " 


" I don t quite understand you, Mr. Quantrell. Is that a kind of 
fire company or political club ? " 

" You ve got it, Smith ! On every suitable occasion we turn out 
and have a parade, and go right through the foreign quarter, driv 
ing everything we see under cover. Our idea is that Americans 
are good enough to rule America ! " 

Mr. Smith reflected a minute, and said that good Americans 
ought to make the best rulers. "However," he added, " Senator 
Broderick, of California, was an Irishman, I believe, and he has just 
been murdered, in a duel." 

" Well, he s an Irishman s son" replied Lloyd; " he was born 
on the Potomac here, in the District of Columbia, and that s almost 
as good as Maryland." 

" They killed him," figured up Mr. Smith, in his deliberate, nasal 
way, "on the i8th of last month. It will be four weeks to-morrow 
nighr, Mr. Quantrell." 

At this, the plain, independent old man, as Lloyd began to 
think him, looked at his two sons, and they raised their eyes to 

" Next Sunday night vrill be four weeks," repeated Mr. Smith, 
still looking at his boys, " since David Broderick was killed by a 
judge, in a duel. The newspapers say his last dying words were, 
They killed me because I was opposed *to the extension of slavery 
and a corrupt Administration. " 

There was a look of queer import, Lloyd Quantrell thought, be 
tween those plain people ; for, as if forgetful of himself, they contin 
ued observing each other with a sense of some strong coincidence. 

At this moment Quantrell s dog started and ran a little way down 
the mountain and " pointed " at some low saplings with his fine white 
and brown nose. 

Lloyd took his gun and followed out of sight of his new compan 
ions, and finally saw a mourning-dove sitting in a leafless tree. He 
raised his piece and aimed, feeling it unworthy work to shoot a turtle 
dove, but as he withdrew the gun his dog still " pointed," as if rav 
enous after the day s barren sport. 

Quantrell waved his hand, intimating to the trained animal to 
seek to the right and farther on. 

The dog, for a minute, obeyed the order, and then returned, and, 
with tail straight out and one leg lifted, " nosed " the solitary dove 
again and made a slight, whimpering entreaty. 


" Well, Albion," thought his master, " I must either disappoint 
you or the dove," and he aimed again and shot the bird. 

It was so soft-eyed and so harmless, and seemed to look with 
such love and suffering at him as it trembled in his hand in the 
convulsion of death, the red rill of blood making purpler its brown 
plumage like the blood of Abel sinking in the ground that Lloyd 
felt some self-accusation. 

With the dead bird in his hand he walked back toward the place 
of conversation, where he was arrested at a cedar-tree by the singu 
lar posture of Smith and his sons. 

The old man was standing with his hands stretched straight out 
and their palms together, his body drawn up and his beard pointing 
upward, as his head was thrown back ; while his sons, still seated, 
had crawled nearer their father, and had dropped their beards, as if 
assisting in prayer. 

In the greatest wonder, Lloyd Quantrell looked at this scene, and 
for a minute doubted, as is natural with all men in a very practical 
land, seeing silent human marvels in lonely places, whether he saw 
anything at all ; if the mountain at this point were not enchanted, 
and these three serious mountaineers only appearances or illusions. 

But he heard articulated sounds proceeding from that old man s 
beard, and the word "Amen ! " pronounced with respectful inclina 
tions of their heads, by both his tough, grown sons. 

A new feeling then suddenly rose upon young Quantrell s imagi 
nation ; for the first time he had a sense of parental influence, some 
thing he had never known confidence, consultation, and parental 
respect and discipline between a father and sons. 

Before him was such a scene : absolute community of thought, 
directed by a strong-willed, plain-hearted father, who held his ma 
tured sons in the leash of his integrity and morality, till they loved 
his magistracy, and were like women to his counsel and authority. 

" Such sons exist no more where I have been," thought Lloyd, 
" at least not in the life I have seen. There the restraint of sons is 
broken by their waywardness and rebellion in early boyhood, even if 
their fathers desire to control them, or are worthy to do so." 

He thought of his own self-loving father, without moral restraints 
himself, or ever a rebuke for his son s indulgences. 

At the crackle of his approaching feet the old man, Smith, and 
his boys ceased their apparent devotion and turned their heads. 

" Mr. Quantrell," spoke the old man, again examining Lloyd 


piercingly, " we do a little surveying on the mountains, and that is 
why we found you in this unexpected spot. They tell me, sir, who 
have lived here longer than I have, that General Washington was 
the first surveyor of these parts, and surveyed Harper s Ferry tract 
itself. But what have you been killing ? " 

He took in his hand the little bird, and looked at Lloyd as he had 
at first, with a severe, almost domineering examination, and tight 

" I have no respect for any man who will shoot a little dove," he 
remarked, in a cold, reproving tone. 

His sons also looked rebuke, and one of them said : 

" Mr. Ouantrell, that wasn t fair game ! " 

" No, I am ashamed of it," spoke Lloyd Ouantrell, frankly. " My 
dog pointed so obstinately that I killed the poor thing against my 
better will." 

" I will forgive you, young man," exclaimed Smith, the elder, 
" on condition that, if you ever see a man going to kill another dove, 
you will reprove him, sir." 

" I will," said Lloyd, blushing, " unless he already feels as mean 
as I do." 

" Father," interposed the younger Smith, " it was an accident, I 
calkelate. He s owned it like a man. Let us show him our favor//*? 
view of the valleys." 

They looked again over the Catoctin Valley, and also at the 
Hagerstown Valley, both softer, paler in the descending sunlight. 

It seemed to Lloyd, when he recalled these scenes in later years, 
as if that sunset was the last vouchsafed the world of heavenly peace 
and blessing. 



"FRIEND Smith," exclaimed Lloyd Quantrell, "I was thinking 
to myself, just before we met, that if this high country of the Cum 
berland Valley, and the apron of it off here to the east, were all my 
property, I would make it a great baronial park, and stock it with 
nothing but American game collected from every State and Territory 
a sort of Forest of Ardennes." 


Quantrell, who was a good singer, and of an unrestrained, hearty 
temperament, here recollected a bit of song, and without any cere 
mony raised his voice and sang, to the delight of Smith s boys : 

" Under the greenwood tree, 

Who loves to lie with me, 

And tune his merry note 

Unto the sweet bird s throat, 

Come hither, come hither, come hither : 

Here shall he see 

No enemy, 
But winter and rough weather. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " cried Lloyd, when he had ended, his melodious 
voice humanizing the place, and seeming to touch the younger son, 
whom the old man had addressed as Oliver, almost to tears, " that s 
a song a friend of mine, a great young actor, sings like a real hunter. 
Now, if you and 1 and the boys here had control of this, we d live 
like banished dukes. Is that your sentiment, Oliver? " 

The young man with the sallow face and modest, sunken eyes, 
and careless hair and beard, put his brown hand to his throat, 
where there was a rising swelling, and said : " I think it is beautiful 
as it is. One log-house and and my wife, would be enough for 

The old man, with a firm voice, interposed, glancing seriously at 
the son s evident susceptibility to the song and the question. 

" This is pretty scenery, gentlemen, and rich country," he said, 
in a high, shrill tone, " and it delights the eye ; but it fails to appeal 
to the mind, for the reason that history has not yet embellished it. 
Its great uses have not yet been perceived, I think. To grow gram 
and make butter and cheese, are agreeable to man ; but even so 
fine a region as this can not compete with the great West in those 
respects with Illinois, Iowa, and the Territory of Kansas. The 
political importance of the Alleghany Mountains far exceeds their 
agricultural importance. If I had been General Washington, and 
had his influence to locate the capital of the United States, I would 
have placed it behind the South Mountain, instead of in the clay 
gullies of the tide-water country." 

" O friend Smith," cried Lloyd Quantrell, " there are too many 
Dutch up this way. They don t know anything in the Dutch coun 
try but saving and slaving, and that would never do." 


" But hear father out, sir," exclaimed the elder son. " He s been 
a great reader and traveler. Father s been to Europe ! " 

It was not common in 1859 to have " been to Europe," and even 
the young Baltimorean looked at Smith with new interest. 

The old man pointed over the valley with long fingers, his 
shoulders stooping a little, and his retreating forehead, hollow in 
the center, assisting the hawkness of his nose. 

Lines of thought and an abstracted countenance marked his 
face while moving up and down and consulting the ground, but 
when he faced Lloyd Quantrell and his own sons, and gave them the 
full benefit of his steady and penetrating eyes, they felt that the 
narrow-shouldered, wiry old fellow must be a tall man. 

He now took his beard in one hand, and with the other pointing 
over the autumnal-tinted plain and detached mountains, gazed out 
like some Hebrew seer. 

" You want your political capital, gentlemen, where it has natu 
ral defenses against a military enemy, such as mountains interpose, 
and has population and agriculture enough to feed and defend 
it, and is also in a position to exert all its political influence 
with what I will call geographical directness on the country. The 
city of Washington can do nothing of that kind. It was easily 
taken and destroyed by a small army in the year 1814. Before it 
was established the people in its vicinity were getting their food 
from these German upland valleys. It has now no political influ 
ence at all, except a pernicious one, on the American people, having 
been governed for sixty years by the local ideas of two places 
Richmond in Virginia and Baltimore in Maryland. Those cities 
were bound to influence it in the line of their very backward, or, as 
some say, conservative tendencies, because they received no other 
elements of population that lived around them in the old tide-water 
parts people who continued to raise tobacco, catch herring, sell 
negroes, and marry their cousins. On the other hand, the country 
above the South Mountain ridge could subsist a very large popula 
tion, and feed a large army, during repeated years of war. This 
mountain, with its natural ramparts, could be easily held by a few 
troops at the passes. The great valley behind it is the line of emi 
gration and of easy communication from the St. Lawrence to the 
Mississippi, and, gentlemen, the inevitable line of war ! " 

Without paying attention to anybody, Smith reached out his 
hand and took the spear instrument from his son, and, gesturing 


with it against the blue air, looked to Quantrell to be a colossal and 
seedy school-master, illustrating a lecture on an enormous black 

" It will cost more fighting men than can be levied from all that 
tide-water country," he continued, "merely to protect the govern 
ment and the public property located at the city of Washington. If 
the capital had been placed here, in the Cumberland Valley, it 
would have been able to launch armies against the enemy and pro 
tect itself from a perpetually flanking second army, moving up the 
valley and getting to the north of Washington. Here will the 
enemy invade once and again, and have the start in the race, and be 
deep in the resources and positions of your country before you can 
come up with him and make him turn and fight. I would remove 
the public effects from Washington. I would hold Baltimore to 
her allegiance by Fortress Monroe. I would take the valley of the 
Cumberland Mountains from them at the beginning, leaving them 
to scratch clay and eat fodder on the emaciated plains, and I would 
fight them from the west ! " 

" Crazy as a bedbug," thought Lloyd Quantrell, a little awed, 
"and on the subject of the Revolutionary W r ar." 

Sticking the fish-spear in the sward and apostrophizing it, Mr. 
Smith, now apparently aroused and in the depth of his subject, con 
tinued in the same plain, brief style of address : 

" This is why God has established the Alleghany Mountains 
for the refuge of his people ! The geologist tells us that the first 
mountains in the world to be made were the Adirondacks. My 
schooling was all before these days of science, and I don t just 
quite get the idea. But if it be so, that the first land to rise above 
the sea and give the raven foothold after the deluge was there, 
where our household affections look to-day " (he glanced at his sons), 
" even upon that Ararat, I was always thinking of my boyhood, 
when I was a tanner on these Alleghanies. 

"Yes," resumed Isaac Smith, after a pause, " in the year 1826 I 
was tanning leather near the spot where General Washington at 
your ages now, and my age when I lived there went on his long 
winter journey to stop the French at old Fort Le Bceuf. I used to 
look at the creek that supplied my vats, and wish I could follow it 
down to the Venango and the Alleghany, and ascend Washington s 
path by the Monongahela to the mountains and cross them to the 
Potomac. I married there, and the desire of money arrested my 


dreams ; but every energy I put out in that direction failed. At 
times great fortunes seemed within my grasp, but slipped from me. 
In Europe, where I went for business, I found my mind led to bat 
tle-fields and the study of war. I tried to drive the idea away, and 
regain my credit in the business of all my maturer life grading and 
selling wool ; for I could tell the difference in similar wools raised 
in different of our States if they were put in my hand in the dark ! 
But the confused verses of Scripture would rise in my mind when 
ever I heard the military trumpets sound abroad : He seeketh wool 
and worketh willingly, but all his household are clothed in scar 
let! 1 " 

"And now, old man," exclaimed the irreverent Quantrell, "you 
think you are at last back in a good country ! " 

"Yes, Mr. Quantrell," said Isaac Smith, soberly, "I am in the 
country of my destiny. I love this country, and hope it may be 
loved for me and my children." 

" You have made one mourner in advance, pop," answered Lloyd. 
" I think you only need to have been born in a military age to have 
reached the consideration of Sam Houston or General Jackson. But, 
unfortunately, you could no more get these Dutch, up this way, to 
fight than teach them style." 

" We never can tell, gentlemen," said Smith, " when war is, as 
you may say, at our elbow. I have been a great reader of the his 
tory of wars, particularly in the Old Testament. Most of the wars 
there recorded, were made by Moses, acting out the will of God. He 
led the Hebrews out of their bondage in Egypt and toward a land 
of promise. The people in that land, we may understand, had done 
no harm to Moses or his people. They existed as peaceably as the 
people of Virginia and Maryland, that we see from this elevation 
working for the dollar and expecting no enemy whatever. But 
Moses, who was keeping his flocks on the back side of the desert, 
as we read, went out on the mountain of God, even to Horeb, say 
the Scriptures. Something took him there not in the way of inter 
est, perhaps not his desire. But there he heard his name called 
aloud from a burning bush, or heap of brush Moses, Moses ! 
And he said, Here am I ! " 

Lloyd Quantrell was again convinced that the Smith family were 

As he recited this old bit of Scripture, with a slow, shrill, nasal 
cry, Isaac Smith folded his arms, closed his eyes, and dropped his 


head upon his beard and breast, standing there a moment speech 
less, and his sons, also taking his attitude, looked to the ground as if 
all three were again to pray together. 

" Here am I, Lord, on thy mountain ! " repeated Isaac Smith 
with rising inflection, unfolding his arms and stretching them wide. 
His strong jaws closed a moment, as he slowly turned his head, 
and with a steady eye, looking into Lloyd s, finished the sentence : 
" These were the words of Moses." 

Some picture of Moses that Lloyd had seen, probably in the old 
Bible of his mother s family, was revived by the appearance of Isaac 
Smith at this moment. His nose would have been quite the Jew s, 
but that it came to an end too bluntly. His eyes, at spells, turned 
inward, like a lost thinker s, and his manner varied from the hard, 
practical American to the introspective, tranceful Oriental. 

" The poor man is crazy on religious subjects," thought Lloyd 
Quantrell, " but how in the deuce did he get the military lunacy 
there too ? Why, out of Moses, of course ! 

" So, General Smith," interrupted the young hunter, pleasantly, 
." that was the way Moses got his military commission ? He was 
made a general in the bush ? " 

" I was about to say, Mr. Quantrell, the general peace prevailing 
among many nations was broken among the Canaanites, the Hit- 
tites, the Jebusites, the Philistines, and many others who looked 
upon Moses, probably, as a sore disturber. They had not heard 
the voice he heard, nor seen the cause of war that lay among them. 
But in the deep prosperity of society often lies the live coal of war, 
as I have seen, at corn-harvest time, the fires break out in the woods 
and standing crops. One man might fail in this age even one as 
obedient as Moses to set in conflict the powers that now lie so 
tightly bound in cunning compromises that they can not draw back 
to strike each other. But the Power which sent the mysterious 
voice can bring the armies up, though the chosen captain look in 
vain to know how or where ! He may excite only derision instead 
of war. He may be punished in a lunatic asylum. He may have 
the misery of utterly failing and involving others in destruction, but 
Moses thought all these things over, and they did not move him." 

Lloyd Quantrell arose and whistled to his dog. 

" General Smith," he said, " myself and your two sons have been 
greatly edified. To meet a man of your travel and intelligence on 
the top of the mountain is a refreshing surprise, sir. But the sun is 


getting low, and I have no shelter for the night. I would accept the 
hospitality of your house, if I knew just where it was." 

" We are not going home, Mr. Quantrell," spoke one of the young 
men, " and there is nobody at our little cabin to entertain you. W T e 
are sorry, sir. You will do best to go down into the Catoctin Val 
ley, here, where the settlements are close together. It is not very 
far to Middletown, where there is a tavern." 

"Yes," said Isaac Smith, "we are out, Mr. Quantrell, on a night 
excursion, to hunt minerals in the mountain. I use the divining-rod, 
sir, with much success. We expect to find lead in these hills, or 
iron, at least." 

" Ah, General Smith, you have got a universal head there ! So 
all-night luck, to you, and good-by. Come, Albion." 

The dog started ahead at the cry. 

" God bless you, sir ! " said Isaac Smith, taking Lloyd s hand in a 
large, fatherly palm. " Remember the queer old man s sermon on 
the mountain, and never kill a dove again." 

As the young man waved his hand and went on, he looked back 
once, and saw all three of the mountaineers watching him till he dis 
appeared in the woods. 



LLOYD QUANTRELL had still more than an hour of daylight ; 
not enough to find his way back to Sandy Hook, where he had 
slept at the tavern, but abundant time to walk down the mountain 
into Catoctin or Middle Creek Valley. 

He took the side-roads leading from the mountain pasture-lands, 
"hen crossed the steep fields, now stripped of their crops, and, find 
ing plenty of chestnuts to fill his pockets, gnawed as he went along, 
and had a shot or two at some late-feeding partridges ; and finally 
he jumped on a farmer s wagon, the farmer nodding assent pleas 
antly as he urged his horses, till, at a farm-gate near the creek, the 
wagon turned in. 

Lloyd then jumped off and found himself at a covered bridge 
from which he could not see the white spires of Middletown. So 
he turned up a road at the creek s side, which looked cool and 


idling, and at a spring in the sandstone took a drink. Here his dog 
also drank, and then barked as if hungry. 

Continuing half an hour on farther, a turn in the road brought 
to view a comfortable farm settlement on a slope of the sluggish, 
verdant-rimmed Catoctin, which, on alternate sides, as it wound 
through the deep-cloven fields, slid beneath the exposed layers of 
stone. Upon that side, opposite such an exposure, where the bank 
rounded down to a level lawn, in which a stone spring-house shaded 
a cool spring at the roots of a great, skyey sycamore, stood, above 
the spring-house, at the top of a path, one of the large log-houses, 
whitewashed, which make at once the cheapest and most whole 
some residences in this part of Maryland. 

There had originally been a square, stern stone house in place of 
this, and it still remained against the southern gable of the log por 
tion like an ice-house, always cool and perhaps dampish, its small, 
deep-walled windows taking an expression upon them like one of 
the hard Scotch-Irish race, who probably built it in the days when 
they needed such protection for their cruelties to Indians and each 

But the peaceful German, in time crossing the Pennsylvania line, 
perhaps unconscious of a boundary, had bought his precursor out, 
sowed clover, reduced the stone to soil, and, as his family wants en 
larged, became his own carpenter, calling his sons and neighbors 
together, and hewing in his own woods in winter, while farm-work 
languished, the native forest trunks to compose his addition. These, 
split in half and the faces smoothed, were called puncheons, and 
they were dragged to the side of the old stone block-house, and 
theie fitted and framed together, and their chinks filled with plaster, 
while the family lived undisturbed in the stone castle. 

This new and roomy dwelling, made of oak or chestnut, was set 
with its side to the road, propped on brick or stone foundations, and 
its roof, doors, and shutters were painted blue like winter cabbages. 

These ideas went through Quantrell s brain as he caught sight 
of the long, homely farmer s dwelling standing on the hill, shaded 
there by maples and large willows, and to the north were a garden 
and small peach-orchard, and beyond that was a huge barn of logs, 
with a bridge leading to its main story, and cattle in the cow-yard 
and beneath its stone basement. 

At sight of these cattle and of the dairy-house beneath the syca 
more-tree, Lloyd exclaimed to his dog : 


" Albion, here ! Milk, by George ! " 

Thus stimulated or encouraged, Albion darted in the open gate 
of the house-yard, and trotted briskly up the path to the dwelling. 
He was almost there, when a growl arrested him. 

A dog of about the same size, of cross-breeds, but with mastiff 
in him, appeared on the top of the hill, directing his attention to 
both dog and gunner. 

For an instant Albion appeared to be meditating an attack, and 
raised his hair and showed his row of white molars. But, without 
any ceremony, the country dog, seeing this, came down the hill 
with a steady trot, increasing it to a run, and then at a bound ran 
under the pointer, upset him, and rolled down hill, and then started 
back for a second wrestle and fight. 

The pointer now lost all show of self-possession, and crouched 
down and looked rapidly for escape ; but before he could conclude 
which way to fly, the ugly animal was upon him, and only Albion s 
agility, as he jumped high in the air, aided by his opponent s clum 
siness, saved his fine ears from being torn. He turned and fled down 
the path to the spring-house, and, darting in there, upset a pan 
of warm milk as it was just being placed in the stone spring trough 
beside others by_a little lady. 

" IVass hut m g fatld? Here, Fritz ! " cried the milk fairy to her 
dog, and in an instant he plunged in at the door and turned over into 
the cold-water trough, upsetting two other pans of milk, and Albion 
crouched at the mistress s feet, trembling and whining for protec 

Lloyd Ouantrell, who had hurried after his dog, peeped into the 
spring-house door in time to see a beautiful, dark-eyed girl, with her 
arms bare and a finely modeled foot, extricating her gown from the 
pointer s hysterical paws. As she saw Lloyd standing there with a 
gun, he heard her murmur: 

" Waer is ar, anyhow ? Down, Fritz ! " 

She menaced her own dog with a large wooden butter-ladle, and, 
as he came out of the dairy, Lloyd spoke firmly and candidly to 
him : 

" Fritz, my brave fellow ! Did we spill his darling mistress s 
milk ? Well, Fritz, we must pay her father for it." 

Admiration was instant and mutual in the young man and the 
girl. Her astonishment relaxed to the likeness of his ardent smile, 
and he said, without dropping his eyes : 


" I thought it would be just my luck to stop where the prettiest 
girl in Frederick County lived ! " 

" You re sure you ve found te right place, then ? " spoke the girl, 
naturally, but blushing much. 

" Won t you let me stop here and prove it ? " said Lloyd. 
" What s your name ? Mine s Lloyd." 

"I m Katy," said the girl, "Jake Hosier s Katy. I m goin on 

At this point the dog Albion, as if smarting under his recent 
discomfiture, grasped the situation : he saw Fritz being petted by 
his master, a thing to provoke his jealousy, and Fritz s mistress 
ready to apply the big wooden spoon to Fritz in case he violated 
any law of hospitality. Thought Albion, " It s a safe chance for 
intervention ! " 

So, with cool but, as it soon appeared, mistaken policy, Albion 
made a dart, after reconnaissance, upon Fritz s extended hinder leg, 
and, seizing it with his teeth, made an effort to hamstring his enter 

The rough country dog, suspecting no assault, was maddened 
by the pain, and springing backward and turning in the air he locked 
his teeth in the first flesh he came to, which happened to be Albion s 
ear, and both dogs rolled into the spring-house fighting, the one 
from courage and the other for life. Little Katy could not beat them 
apart, and Lloyd Quantrell rushed in to seize them, and, losing his 
footing in the dark interior of the dairy, fell full length into the 
water, and came out wet to the skin. 

The noise of fighting and howling dogs brought down the in 
mates of the log and stone house : a large, barefooted man with a 
great black, wide-brimmed hat, and homespun clothes all of the same 
gray color ; and a younger man in a copy of the same dress ; and a 
fine-looking blonde girl in brown homespun with flowers in her hat. 

" Flint ? " exclaimed the farmer, looking at the gun ; then look 
ing at Lloyd, he added, " Ymgltng /" and cried out : 

"Katy, wo fail s now?" 

"Nothing s te matter, father," Katy replied, "but te dogs 
fought and te young man s wet his clothes." 

As Lloyd came out, holding his fine dog up by main strength, 
they saw that one of the pointer s beautiful ears was gone. The 
humiliated beast, still in apprehension, ran to the feet of every person, 
cringing and whining with pain. 


Lloyd Quantrell took a stick from the ground and whipped his 
dog till it seemed to lose all voice and spirit. 

" There," finished the gunner, coolly, " he ll have just ear enough 
after this for good, big, right game, and no more doves ! " 

None interrupted the flogging but little Katy, who kept saying : 

" Ganoonk ! Enough ! He won t do so any more." 

" No," remarked Lloyd, "not if it can be flogged out of him. 
Farmer Rosier " he addressed the man, with ready memory and 
frankness " I ve been gunning, and one of your talkative neighbors 
has kept me out late. Can t you give me a bed and a dry suit or a 
blanket, for love or money?" 

" Yaw. Coom along ! " the farmer said, asking no more ques 
tions, and the farmer s son took Lloyd s gun, saying : 

" Take supper with us. It s a ready." 

Lloyd looked at the two girls, Katy with rich, dark eyes and 
dark hair, and small, supple figure, and the other girl, a full blonde, 
tall, large for her young age, and looking at Lloyd with bold, instant 
coquetry, as if she would not be anticipated in his conquest. 

" Ha ! " thought Lloyd, " it s well to have a choice, but I think 
that little Katy of Catoctin will do for me." 

Katy, so happy and so startled that she did not know what she 
felt, replied to her female friend s suggestion, in the mountain Dutch 
Patois, that Lloyd was "orrick sktuls," or "very proud-looking," 
by saying : 

" Sell isn mistake ; ar is orrick friendlich" 

Lloyd grasped the meaning, and knew himself described as " very 

The barefooted farmer walked up the steep grassy lawn to the 
establishment, which had three doors in its long front, one near each 
end of the log portion, and another in the older stone gable. 

" Luter," he said to his son, " he sleeps py you." 

Without any more words, farmer Jake Rosier seized a rope which 
communicated with a large bell on the top of the log-house, and 
rang it loud and clear for the farm-hands to come in, saying : 

" Soon-down ! Ri m-by ! " 

As the clear bell sounded in the cool amber mountain evening 
out of the perfect rest of this soft valley, it seemed that Sunday en 
tered in and the lately savage dogs began to agree. Fritz licked the 
place where Albion s lost ear had been, and Albion, defeated every 
where, permitted the attention like one always in the right, yet some- 


times put down. Lloyd Quantrell received the warm, admiring look 
of Katy s friend, but gave it back to little Katy. 

" You sleeps py me," Luther Bosler said, leading the way up-stairs 
by the door in the stone-gabled front. 

They entered a bare room of good size with a fireplace in the 
end, and there Katy s brother had hardly put some wood on two 
stones, when her father brought up a shovel of coals and set the 
wood on fire. 

"Here," said Luther Bosler, "git into tese clothes, Mister 

" No mister about me, Luther," answered the sociable Balti- 
morean, tenacious of a name ; " my name s Lloyd Quantrell. You 
and Jake call me Lloyd ! " 

He looked audaciously at farmer Bosler, who, far from resenting 
the "Jake," now laughed. 

"All right, Lloyd!" cried Jake. "Ha! ha! Luter, he s joost 
as plain as us ole Tunkers, ain t he ? Well, Lloyd, coom to supper. 
Bi m-by ! " 

As father and son went down the stairs, Lloyd, slipping on the 
suit of coarse, clod-smelling clothes, and an old flannel shirt, lay on 
the bed, where he could find no cover but another feather-bed, 
and shut his eyes in the pleasurable tingle after a cold bath and by 
a now crackling fire. Night seemed to come and sit in the deep 
stone windows to warm at the fire, now brighter than the day. 

" A Dutchman s guest ! " he said to himself. " Well, well ! The 
last Dutchman I met I stuck in the thigh with a shoemaker s awl 
for getting too near the polls. Can I ever respect a Dutchman ? 
even the father of little Katy of Catoctin ? " 



WHEN he came down to supper, several plain, uncultivated-look 
ing men were already at the table, where Lloyd was accommodated 
with a place between Katy and her friend, who was introduced by 
Katy, saying : 

" Tis is Nelly Harbaugh ; she s a Swisser." 


2 9 

" You re a Deitsher," replied Nelly Harbaugh to Katy. 

" What s the difference, girls, between a Swisser and a Deitsher? " 
asked Lloyd of the two ladies alternately, looking his fondest. " Jake, 
you tell me." 

" Nay," said Jake, replying in kind. " Ich waz ss net, Lloyd. 
Ask Andrew Atzerodt ; he s quick." 

" Te Swisser," spoke up one of the apparent serving-men that 
only one whose face, as Lloyd now remarked it, seemed to have a 
little worldly restlessness " te Swisser offers hisself for to pe 
bought. Te Deitsher gits sold and says nix. Dat s so, py Jing ! " 

He raised his voice at the end in a way to exasperate Lloyd, 
looking at Lloyd, too, as if to say, " I am always positive." 

" Nelly," insinuated Lloyd, " when you re in the market, let me 
know, sweetness! Katy, don t you get sold without giving me the 
first chance ! " 

" Ha, ha ! Lloyd," Jake Bosler broke out, " you is a great feller 
for te girls." 

" Do you mean it ? " Nelly Harbaugh asked Lloyd, giving him 
the whole sunflower of her attention. 

" I reckon so," Lloyd answered, but looking at little Katy. 

" Py Jing ! " exclaimed Atzerodt, across the table, fiercely at 
Lloyd, " Nelly, tare, is my gal, I haf you know ! " 

He looked to Lloyd now to have been drinking, or to be natu 
rally a little drunk. 

" There s nothing like being impressive, Andrew," replied Lloyd, 
looking straight at him, and mentally wishing he had him down the 
road. " Are you a Swisser or a Deitsher ? " 

" Me? Py Jing, I m a Swisser. I lif in te Valley of Fergeenia, 
where tey fights at te drop of te hat ! " 

" You better go down there and fight, then," Nelly Harbaugh 
said to Andrew. " Luther Bosler, tell Lloyd about the mountain 
Dutch ! " 

" Te German-blood people," spoke up Luther Bosler, after hesi 
tation, and in a still and somewhat dignified way, " come to Penn- 
sylvany first. Amongst te first was us Tunkers. We been here 
hundred and forty year." 

" You too, Katy ? " interjected Lloyd. " A hundred and forty 
years here, and never sent for me ? " 

Everybody laughed loud, Andrew Atzerodt more boisterously 
than all, and Katy answered meekly at last : 


" I m going on seventeen." 

Stopping till he was requested to continue, Luther Bosler, whose 
dark eyes were like Katy s, but his hair was coarser and of a deeper 
brown, said on : 

" Yes, Lloyd, us Dutch is a hundred and fifty year in te United 
States. First off, te Germans come to New York, and didn t like 
that much, so most of tern moved to Pennsylvany. Te Tunker 
Dutch was Baptists, and they spread all over Pennsylvany and Ma 
ryland and down Virginia way. After they got te valleys, te 
Swiss come and took te hills dat wasn t good for much. So now 
we re all mixed up. Katy s got worldly ; Nelly, she s no Tunker. 
Andrew, he s nothin but a Dutch coach-maker." 

"I m te pest coach-maker in Fergeenia, don t you forgit it!" 
Andrew said, with rising inflection and want of equipoise. 

"No, Andrew," put in Lloyd, "when Katy and I want our 
royal coach, we ll have you make it. But, Luther, what do these 
Dunkers vote ? " 

" They don t vote in general," said Luther. " It s not religious. 
I voted three year ago." 

" I hope you voted for Mr. Fillmore, Luther ? " 

"No, I didn t," said Luther. 

" Oh ! of course, you Dutch folks had to vote for old Buchanan. 
You couldn t go one of us Americans." 

"Because I was an American, I thought," quietly remarked 
Luther, " I voted for Colonel Fremont. He got just two hundred 
and eighty-one out of most eighty-seven thousand votes in Mary 
land. So you can see my vote sticking up at te end, all by itself." 

" Luter most got turned out of meetin forvotin / exclaimed his 
father. " But dey took him back." 

" Dat Fremont was a tarn French abolitionist ! " exclaimed the 
excitable Atzerodt. " I kill him, py Jing ! " 

"Go for him, Andrew," said Lloyd, grimly. "He s afraid of 
you, I know. But, pop " to Jake Bosler "can t you take me to 
meeting with you to-morrow? " 

" O father, do ! " spoke up Katy, impulsively, " it s /0z^-feast ! " 

" We ll all go ! " Nelly Harbaugh cried ; " Luther must take 

" Oh, you ll laugh at us poor Tunkers, Lloyd," Jake Bosler said. 

" Nelly, you goes with me ! " Andrew Atzerodt spluttered, hot- 
ly. " Didn t I come all te way from Port Tobacco to see you ? " 

KATY "P IN TED." 31 

" I have got better company," said the girl, negligently. 

V Py Jing ! " raged Atzerodt, " I kill somebody ! " 

" Don t kill me," exclaimed Lloyd, with humor. " I ll run under 
the table if you look at me so." 

Superior in worldly confidence and speech, and with unchecked 
humor and feelings, the city guest surpassed himself that evening 
as the candles were lighted and the wood-fire flamed, and the pre 
suming Atzerodt also felt his influence as Lloyd jested light and 

Luther Bosler was a good listener, and whenever Lloyd looked 
his way, Luther, with a certain sluggish softness in his dark-lighted 
eyes, seemed watching him, but not with any dislike ; for, once 
when Lloyd cried 

" Luther, I see you re a long-headed old sly-boots "- 

" Oh ! " said Luther, " my head, Lloyd, can t keep in my poots 
vf\itnyoure a-talkin ! " 

When they had partaken of the stewed chicken and smear case 
and cream, and what Jake called the " wedgable things " for vege 
tables, little Katy brought in pies for supper. Lloyd smiled to him 
self, thinking : " What heathens ! pie for supper ! " 

" What kind of sweet things, Kate," he cried, "are you trying 
to sour us on with yourself? " 

" Oh," said Katy, beaming joy, " here s peach snitz and elder, and 
some kickelins. I cooked tern." 

Lloyd found the " kickelins " were sweet cakes fried in fat, and 
the "snitz" were dried peaches, and the queer pie was made of 
elder-berries. Said Katy, in their Dutch tongue, to Nelly : 

" How I like to see him eat ! He does it so easy." 

" I should like to see him in love, Katy." 

" Hush ! " said Katy, trembling. 

" Bedtime," Jake Bosler nodded, setting back his chair and 
glancing at the clock. " Bi m-by ! " 

"Jake, your clock is fast," Lloyd observed, consulting his own 
gold watch, at which all the company looked, marveling. 

"We keep it fast, Lloyd," Luther Bosler said ; "it s te fashion 
up here, so we can go to work earlier." 

"My goodness!" Katy cried, " te apples is cut and you men 
must snitz." 

Two wash-tubs were brought into the whitewashed room, and 
sitting around them on wooden chairs all the men commenced to 


peel apples for drying, while Katy and Nelly produced two spinning- 
wheels and made them fly and hum on woolen yarn. 

" We make all our own yarn," said Katy to Lloyd, "and send it 
to te weaver. He makes it into Dunker cloth." 

Lloyd peeled apples awhile, till Nelly Harbaugh called him to 
unravel something at the wheel, and then he watched the two fine 
girls working on Saturday night, with a sense of reproof in his mind 
for so much avarice of time. 

Nothing was here, he thought, but the physical beauty of these 
women to ornament life ; no pictures on the wall but lithographs 
from Scripture, no books but the " Hagerstown Almanac " and 
Bausmann s travels in the Holy Land, and a Dutch Bible ; no orna 
ments but some horns of deer and a robe of yellow panther-skins 
sewn together, with the eye-holes embroidered around the red lin 
ing. The very peace seemed, to the strong-willed American, heavy 
with unspiritual content ; but it had brought to these young girls 
the perfection of everything but mind. 

The face he understood the best, and which seemed also to un 
derstand him, was Nelly Harbaugh s ; too open to his gaze, unre- 
treating before him, ready to be admired whenever he turned toward 
it, and seeming to say, " You can make no mistake I am ready to 
hear you." 

Had Katy not been there to drop her eyes before his warm ad 
miration, he might have paid closer regard to Nelly Harbaugh s 
sunny charms. 

She was larger, fuller, taller than Katy, with a carriage erect yet 
indolent, as if Nature had given her such animal health that she 
could not droop, but like some strong - stemmed golden flower 
blinked not at the hottest sun, but took its color in every petal. 
Over Katy her influence might be strong, Lloyd thought, and he said : 

" Nelly, I know I have seen your fine blue eyes in Baltimore." 

" No, I have never been there," Nelly said, " except to market, 
and Luther made us come back as soon as we sold out." 

She looked coquettish reproach, with the same searching direct 
ness, at Luther as he came over and, putting his hand upon her 
shoulder, looked at her with mild interest. 

"Nelly," said Luther, "will you pe my girl if I drive you to Bea 
ver Creek meeting ? " 

" I am always yours, Luther," answered Nelly, examining him 
with even more wistfulness than Lloyd. " But you don t want me." 

KATY "P SNT>." 33 

" I do," said Luther, " but I want you all. I think you can not 
gif me all your heart. It is difided." 

" It is not," said Nelly, " but you will not ask for it." 

Lloyd Quant rell was arrested at both the deepened interest in 
Nelly s eyes and the finely contrasted animal perfection of her 
and of her admirer. Luther was dark and deep-voiced, and with a 
manly something in him, however rude. In her tall, well-rounded 
figure and long waist, which a bodice might adorn, and finely 
grained flesh and long braids of corn-colored hair, there seemed to 
be strength, fruitfulness, and power over man ; yet in her undis 
guised ardor and will it seemed that she needed Luther s reality and 
slower though not stronger impulses of character. He looked at 
her with mild, almost devout, eyes, as if he kept love back by rea 

" Kiss her," said Katy. " I know you want to, Luther." 

Luther passed his arm around Nelly, but did not kiss her. 

With disappointment, yet pride, the girl turned on Lloyd Quan- 
trell again the same penetrating and steady look. 

Thought Lloyd, returning the gaze in kind, " That girl a man 
might dress to look like a queen, but even then she could take a 
lesson in nature from little Katy." 

Katy had such large eyes, the pupils big and the eyeballs big 
too, that they turned in her head like poems, Lloyd thought, harmo 
niously rhyming in expression and so full of tender feeling that he 
said once, " Katy, I can almost see the water drip from those two 
buckets of your eyes as they rise on me from the well of your fresh 

" Why," said Katy, " you re a poet, Lloyd. I can make rhymes 

" Singsht? " Lloyd asked, having picked up a word. 

" Yaw, Lloyd, and I play te accordion." 

Modestly Katy went for the instrument, and bringing it back 
began to draw forth its sounds, opening her lips to breathe inward 
the harmony, and Lloyd saw that her teeth were full and white. 

Sitting there a mere child, her long braid of chestnut hair hang 
ing to her chair, her long, expressive fingers at the keys, and shy 
ness and fervor playing in her countenance like trout in springs, 
she suddenly raised a little German idyll, and her brother joined in 
it with his untrained bass, and all the farm-hands turned their faces 
up to hear : 



" Oh was is shenner uf der welt 

Os blimlin roat un weis ? 
Un bio, un gail, im arble feld 

Wass sin de doch so neis ! 
Ich wais noch goot in seller tzeit 

Hob ich nix leevers du, 
Os in de wissa, long un breit 

So blimlin g soocht we du." * 

Lloyd knew that it was a song about hunting bright flowers in the 
fields, and almost understood the timid peep of Katy s eyes upon 
him, when she sang : 

" I know yet well that in that time 

Naught would I rather do, 
Than in the meadow long and wide 
Such flow rets seek as you." 

Jake Bosler, who had been nodding, awoke to hear the tune, and 
when it was done he wiped his eyes of some tears. 

Ich cons net helfa I can t help it," he said : " I tink of my 

" My mother who is dead," Katy explained, as Jake faltered ; 
"she s been dead two years." 

" Bettime bi m-by ! " Jake Bosler managed to say at last, and 
Katy moved to the table and opened the old Dutch Bible. When 
she had read, in the sweetest tones, words intelligible to Lloyd only 
by their holiness, all present knelt and Jake Bosler prayed for his 
brood, for pure hearts and thoughts, and for the stranger within 
his gates. His daughter and son went up to kiss him. 

" Goot-night, Lloyd," he said. " Soon-up, bi m-by." 

" Thinking of work even as he falls to sleep ! " Lloyd exclaimed. 
" Now give old daddy a parting tune ! " 

He started up the little song by Samuel Woodworth : 

" The pride of the valley is lovely young Ellen, 

Who dwells in a cottage enshrined by a thicket, 
Sweet peace and content are the wealth of her dwelling, 
And Truth is the porter that waits at the wicket." 

Katy caught the air and kept the accompaniment with her ac 
cordion, and Lloyd changed " Ellen " into " Katy," and sang it to 

* By Tobias Witmer : " My Old Woman s Birthday." 



her with all his spirit, being in fine voice, and all the Dutch people 
listened with delight. 

" Ah, Katy ! " said Jake, going up-stairs, " I guess you got a beau, 

The serving-men took their departure too, and only Andrew 
Atzerodt remained. 

" Luter," he said, "git me some of Jake s whisky. I hat a head 
on me yisterday." 

" Here s some whisky we make ourselves, Lloyd," Luther said, 
producing it. " Te Tunkers keeps little still-houses and makes a 
few bar ls a year." 

The pure liquor soon brought a pleasurable glow to the men, 
Luther drinking sparingly, and for a while the influence was pecul 
iar on Atzerodt, bringing out a vein of natural humor in him. 
Lloyd read him soon to be a man of such volatile nature that his 
forwardness was always getting him into predicaments. He chal 
lenged everybody, and probably had a brutal Hessian instinct, as 
Lloyd expressed it, but possessed no fortitude to carry it out. See 
ing that Luther was now increasing his interest in Nelly Harbaugh, 
Andrew cried out : 

Now, py Jing ! you haf been holting my gal s hand tare long 
enough ! " 

"Sit down!" commanded Nelly Harbaugh, "or I ll send you 
home to walk to Middletown in the dark." 

" I ll go, den," Atzerodt cried, making a movement toward his 

" Behave, you fool ! " cried Nelly, making Luther release her 
hand, however. 

" She s got two fellows on the string," thought Lloyd Quantrell, 
" and is fishing for me too. Ah ! Andrew," Lloyd spoke out, "you 
are a courageous man. A desperate man, I call you. I have no 
doubt that you could take your hat and walk alone among these 
mountains all night, and not run from the ghost I saw to-day." 

"Geisht!" exclaimed Andrew, looking behind him and turn 
ing pale, " I walk past a shpook and shust laugh at him ha ! 

" Give me your hand, my brave fellow," cried Lloyd, standing 
up. "And ypu have got a strong grip too, Andrew." 

" If I shqueeze you hard, py Jing," said the heedless mechanic, 
"you goes crazy." 


"Don t squeeze me, Andrew," exclaimed Lloyd, with a wink to 
the rest. " Now you are doing of it. Ouch ! Let me go ! " 

As he spoke, Lloyd, who was a powerful man, trained in athletic 
games, closed his great palm around the coachmaker s, and slowly 
tightened it. The poor fellow writhed and groveled in pain, but 
feared to cry out, since his oppressor kept saying : 

" What nerve ! what endurance ! Don t squeeze me so ! Oh, 
take him off ! Have mercy, Andrew ! " 

Thus shouting, the tears came to Lloyd s eyes to see the poor 
braggart suffer, and all laughed but Katy, who cried : 

" You re hurting one another, I know." 

" Ah ! " said Lloyd, looking at his own hand as if in misery, 
" never will I go into the lion s den again." 

" Py Jing ! " exclaimed the other, as soon as he could get breath 
and suppress his sobs, " you got a purty goot grip, too. But I m a 
workin -man. Better not tackle me, Lloyd ! " 

" Poor thing," said Katy, taking Lloyd s hand timidly, and look 
ing at it. He raised her little fingers up as if to show her his wound, 
and kissed them. 

" Don t," said Katy ; " I been huskin corn all day in te field." 

" Do they work the women out in the fields? " asked Lloyd. 

" Oh, yes," Katy answered simply, while Nelly Harbaugh made an 
effort to restrain her, which Katy did not understand ; " father gives 
Nelly half a dollar a day for huskin and plantin corn. She must 
be rich." 

" What ghost did you see on the mountain, Lloyd ? " Nelly Har 
baugh asked, evasively. 

All seemed interested to hear this, and Lloyd, standing up to em 
phasize the story and test Andrew Atzerodt s nerve-powers, looked 
quite the necromancer in his farmer s suit and in a wide Dunker hat 
he now drew on. 

" Andrew," spoke Lloyd, " only your splendid courage could 
have resisted the feeling that the old man I saw to-day was not 
mortal. He had a nose that seemed to curl like an elephant s 
trunk ; his eyebrows stood up like a horse s mane ; his beard fell 
below his breast-bone and had silver fire in it like old punk. He 
closed his big jaw, saying : Is this a dove you have been shooting? 
Agh-h-h ! " 

"Stop! You lie! He wasn t tare!" cried Andrew, sinking at 
the knees, at the stranger s well-acted part. 



" He was there, Andrew. I swear it ! Is this a dove you have 
been killing ? the wild man said, his voice as cold as the October 
wind which blows that door open now hoo-oo-oo ! " 

" Scat ! Te wind is high," chattered Atzerodt, as the door to the 
kitchen opened a little way. 

" * I have no respect, the phantom said to me, for any man 
who will kill a little dove. No-o-o-o ! " 

" You scare us, Lloyd ! " murmured little Katy, leaving her chair 
and coming forward, as if to shut the creaking door. He held his 
hand out to detain her, and continued : 

" I did not mean to do it, I said to that strange man ; my 
pointer dog was obstinate, and nosed the harmless bird. Forgive 
me, mountain-wizard ! No ! pealed he, a dove ! A little, little 
d-o-o-ve ! " 

" Pooh ! " said Atzerodt, " if dat was all, a little pit of a dove, 
you wasn t afeard." 

Atzerodt took a stout drink of the whisky. The loose door 
obeyed the wind again and opened inward. Katy stepped forward, 
but Lloyd held her at an arm s length. 

" My dog -would nose the dove, I pleaded. Twas not my 
fault, indeed ! You killed a dove, said he, a little, little d-o-o-ve. 
Hist, Albion, said I, seek farther on " 

" Ha ! what s dat ? I hears a kreisha ! " Andrew muttered, as a 
sort of wail came from the kitchen. 

"Albion!" repeated Lloyd, himself disturbed by the noise and 
his own zeal, for he had involuntarily exceeded his joke. 

As he mentioned the name of his dog, Albion himself, mechani 
cally walking as if in sleep, came through the kitchen door that was 
ajar, and advancing near the middle of the large room, threw back 
his body and threw up his white and brown nose, and whimpered as 
on the mountain-top. His torn ear was turned toward them and 
showed bloody yet. 

" The hoond p ints something," muttered Luther Bosler. " What 
is it. ? " 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " Atzerodt replied, repeating his drink. " I tink 
it s Katy." 

" Maybe it s the Black Dog ! " shouted Nelly Harbaugh. " Say 
The Words/ Katy!" % 

As both girls started to mutter something like an incantation, 
Luther Bosler advanced to take his sister, but Lloyd Quantrell had 


assuaged her terror in his own arms, and as he drew her tenderly to 
him he threw Jake Bosler s big wool hat at the dog, which snapped 
at it and shrank back into the dark kitchen. 

" Dear little dove," Lloyd Quantrell said, attempting to kiss Katy, 
but she pressed his head away, " that wasn t a black dog at all, only 
my English pointer." 

" The Black Dog," said Nelly Harbaugh, " needn t be black. 
It s a spirit." 

" Spirit of what ? " 

" Trouble," answered Nelly Harbaugh. 

" Lloyd," murmured little Katy, " it p inted at me and you. We 
must say Te Words together." 

" The Words ? " Lloyd answered. " I don t know The W T ords, 

" O Lloyd ! Te Words keep off te Poltergeist. I say them 
when I see a bad sign and when I am too happy, for when we re 
happiest te bad man likes to come." 

"Say them now, Katy," Lloyd whispered, pressing her close in 
his strong arms ; " I m very happy, for I love you ! " 

"Do you? Oh! you must tell te truth now; for I m going to 
say Te Words, and it s wicked to say them with a lie." 

" I love you," Lloyd Quantrell replied, his arms trembling. " I ll 
say The Words after you with joy, Katy." 

" Call on te three Highest Names, my love," said Katy, in rapt 

As they said together in a country rhyme, he repeating after her, 
the dread names in the Trinity, they heard the dog howl in the 

"There," said Katy, "te Black Dog heard us and is gone. 
Lloyd, you may kiss me now." 

" O blessed words," Lloyd Quantrell murmured, " which brought 
this kiss to me. Teach me from your pure heart all that it knows, 
dear child, and keep me happy as I am." 

" You must pelieve," said Katy, " pelieve in te Three Highest 
Names and say Te Words , and then love will be beautiful." 

"Who told you, Katy ? " 

" My dear mother, Lloyd, and my heart tells me, too." 

" Did you ever love before ? " 

" No, but I often tried to. When you came to te spring house, 
Lloyd, I was saying to myself : I guess somebody is going to love 


me. But I wonder when he will come ? I knew he was some- 

" God bless you, darling ! That very same was I thinking : that 
the country was beautiful, but I was lonely in it, for want of some 
gentle heart and glowing face. I have found you, Katy, and both 
of us are happy." 

Again the stranger in the mountains pressed to his lips the sim 
ple and unresisting face which had floated to him like a sunny cloud 
in this high vale, and for a little while he forgot that she was " Dutch," 
hard as his native prejudices were against that humble race, longer in 
the land than his own name of Quantrell. 



WHEN they returned in consciousness to the whitewashed great 
room of Jacob Bosler, Nelly was sitting near the fire, which had 
burned low, with Luther on her right and Atzerodt on her left. 
Atzerodt was telling tales of spirits and frightening himself, and 
hence drew frequently upon the jug of whisky to give him what 
Lloyd called " Dutch courage." 

He told of the snarley-yow and the were-wolf ; the phantom sol 
dier and the white woman which announced a death ; of the big In 
dian s shade with a light in him ; and of the fox-fire in the fields 
which lay on the meadow-grass at night and turned to silver, but 
like the fire-coals when stirred by avarice were silver only at night, 
but in the morning ashes. 

Atzerodt s sallow, furtive, somewhat anxious face, like that of 
one intense yet animal, brightened up between the drink, the super 
stition, and his enjoyment of the others fears ; his voice was shrill 
and responsive to his emotions, his frame thick set and his move 
ments were agile, his eyes a keen blue, and no repose was in his 

" He s one of the best coachmakers to be found," said Nelly to 
Lloyd. " If he d be steady, he could marry any girl, and be a rich 

" Can t you make him steady ? " 


"I don t want to be a mechanic s wife," said Nelly, "unless I 

Looking at him again, as if trying to read him, Nelly Harbaugh 
said : 

" Is your watch gold ? Won t you give it to me ? What do 
you do in Baltimore ? " 

" Spend money," said Lloyd, " run to the fires, turn out with the 
Grays, and guard the polls." 

" The Grays ? That s soldiers ! " 

" Yes, we re all Union men. Not a foreigner in the company. 
Our motto is, Put none but Americans on guard. " 

" I hope everybody is for te Union," Luther Rosier remarked ; 
"we re all for it up this a-way." 

" Katy," Lloyd said, " do you believe in ghosts? " 

" Oh, yes, Lloyd." 

" Tell me about one." 

Katy shrank a little at being called upon to take so much atten 
tion, but her ready impulses carried her along. 

"There was a girl over in Smoketown," Katy spoke, "who 
wanted to sell herself to te divel" Katy here seemed to be saying 
" The Words " again an instant "she wanted to pe rich and not to 
work ; she thought she was a lady, and not a poor Dutch girl. So 
she asked her mother to let her sell herself to te little lame man. 
Her mother told her to go sit by te spring and say : 

I want clothes, and I want gold ; 
I want nefer to pe old ; 
I want peauty as long as I can 
Gif it to me, little lame man ! " 

" What a nice wish ! " exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh. 

" So te little lame man came right to te spring, and he said, 
Put your right hand on te top of your head. She put it there. 
Put your left hand on the soles of your feet, said he. She was 
sitting down, and she did that, too. Now, said te lame man, you 
must say, "All that is between my tu>o hands belongs to te divel." 
She started to say it, and had got to te last word, when her mother 
ran there and shouted God 7 so she lost the words and said, 
All that is between my two hands belongs to God ! Te little 
lame man run back to Smoketown as fast as his legs could carry 


" But didn t the girl get any nice clothes, or anything, for being 
so good ? " asked Nelly. 

" She got," said Katy, blushing, " a good husband, my mother 
told me, if he was a poor young man." 

" Dot Shmoketown," cried Atzerodt, " is an ole Shpooktown, py 
Jing ! I come along tare one night purty trunk, riding a horse, and 
joost as I crossed te leetle stream dis side of Shmoketown an begun 
to climb te mountain road dat comes dis way, and had got into de 
glen petween te Short Mountain an te Plue Ridge, I see pefore me 
a black man with a white face like a chiny plate. I said to my 
self, Py Jing, any company is petter dan none ! So I jined te 
black feller, and he was de nicest feller I ever did know ; he was 
rale shentlemans. 

" Says he : It s cold ; we ll drink together ! He handed me a 
flask. When I got done trinkin , tere was another man riding with us. 

" As we come up te mountain through te chestnut forest, te moon 
shined on te road, an efery time we took another trink, tere was 
another man on horsepack, till, py Jing ! I counted apout nine men, 
and de last man was a woman. 

" Tey all seemed to know te black man with te white face ; he 
was a rale shentlemans. 

" He made speeches out of pooks and drilled us like a solcher 
company, and we charged at a gallop, an rode company-face, an 
right-countermarch, an had a good time, py Jing ! I guess I was 
purty trunk." 

" You re not far from it now," said Nelly Harbaugh. 

Atzerodt looked into the darker parts of the room apprehen 
sively yet saucily, and continued : 

" We got most to te top of te Plue Ridge, when te black man 
said, Who s dat long feller amongst te horses ? 

" There was a man walkin in te road. He was a long man in 
black clothes. He looked up and powed and said, Good-evening, 
friends ; we re most home ! Te devil you are ! said te black man 
with te white face. 

" We rode along awhile till te captain, as I ll call him, begun 
whisperin to us an saying : Look at dat feller ! He s eferywhere at 
once ; he s on dat side, and on dis side, and petween our horses, and 
I pelieve he s joost a devil. Let s ride over him ! 

"So we looked, an tere he was, right amongst te horses, dis 
side, dat side, not a pit afraid " 


" Oh, don t," spoke Katy, " don t tell us the rest unless it s good." 

" Go to bed, Andrew, you desperate, brave man," Lloyd Quan- 
trell said, drawing his arm tighter around Katy. 

" Yes," Luther Rosier added, " it s late, and this story is too 

" Go on," said Nelly Harbaugh ; " I want to know what became 
of the black man with the white face." 

" Let s ride over him ! said te captain. All right, py Jing ! 
says I. 

" No, says some, he s a nice ole man, and he says he s most 

" Put it to vote ! says te black man with te white face. 

" Py Jing ! it was a tie ; one half was one way and one half was 
te oder way. 

" Leave it to te woman ! says te captain." 

" That was the right way," Lloyd Quantrell said. " The women 
are always for pity, Katy." 

" Te woman," concluded Atzerodt, " looked a leetle queer an 
said nothing till te black an white man rode to her side and looked 
at her like a rale shentlemans. Den she leaned over an kissed him, 
and she joost yelled, Charge ! " : 

Excited with the recital and the drink, Atzerodt had arisen un 
steadily as he shouted this last word. 

" Charge ! yelled te woman, and on we put, py Jing ! to tram 
ple dat long man in te road. 

" The first ting I knowed, we was at te steep edge of te mount 
ain, and te captain rode right over. Down, down he went, and 
efery feller after him, and last of all, for my horse had stumpled 

"Ah! ah! Andrew," spoke Lloyd, " surely, with your splendid 
courage, you were not in the rear ? " 

" I was pitched off te horse joost pefore he jumped over, and I 
was fallin , too, but I see te long man lyin in te road, an I took hold 
of his hand to save myself. 

" Te moon showed him lyin there dead, all cut with te horseshoes. 
Te hand I took was slippery with something, and I couldn t git a 
tight hold of it." 

" Not with your stalwart fist, Andrew ? " exclaimed Lloyd. 

" I couldn t git hold of it," said Atzerodt, with a changed and low 
ered tone, " because his hand was bloody. So down I went, hun 
dreds of feet, and next mornin tere I was found underneath te 


mountain, and Nelly Harbaugh was py me. Py Jing ! ain t it so, 

" Yes," said Nelly, after a pause, " it was last April ; he was 
coming to see me to make me marry him. I went out to hunt him, 
and there I found him asleep in the road, and his horse going loose. 
So I woke him up and sent him to the right-about." 

" Py Jing ! " exclaimed the tipsy man, tears of various origin com 
ing to his eyes, " I m come agin to-day, Nelly, to ask you to pe my 
wife. Don t say No. You ll preak me all up. I have got a shop at 
Port Tobacco, and all te work I want, but I can t keep sober unless 
you marry me. Come, make me a home ! You needn t work in te 
fields no more. I ll save you from want, and you ll save me from 
wickedness. Oh, I ll promise eferything ! " 

" It s worth considering, Nelly," Luther Bosler remarked, with 
grave emotion. " He s a good mechanic." 

" Take the candle and go to bed," commanded Nelly Harbaugh, 
looking at Atzerodt ; " if you intend to obey me, begin now. I will 
not give you an answer till you are sober." 

She stood, beautiful and tall, with her blue eyes full of care yet 
spirit, like one with resources but in doubt. 

" Oh, to-night," pleaded Atzerodt, " or I may dream agin ! " 

" To-morrow," said Nelly Harbaugh, pointing to the door. 

The common fellow, in whom seemed some real sensibility now, 
took the candle and staggered meekly toward the entrance. 

" Kiss good-night ! " he muttered unsteadily. 

" You are not obeying me," answered Nelly Harbaugh. 

He threw open the door leading into the night and stopped, with 
a trembling of the candle he held up, and the words, " It s dark, 
Nelly ! " 

" Now, now, Andrew ! " Lloyd Quantrell cried, " I know you re 
not afraid to go to bed alone." 

" You re a loafer," shouted Atzerodt in sudden rage, uttering an 
oath. " You ll pe no good to Katy ! " 

Lloyd made a push for the door, and Atzerodt fled, slamming it 
behind him. 

" The cur ! " exclaimed Lloyd Quantrell, throwing his arm around 
Katy, who had followed him. " You know he slanders me, Katy." 

" Oh, he must," Katy said, " you are such a gentleman ! " 

Her brother s eyes followed Katy tenderly to the fire, as if to re 
assure her of their guest s good character ; and then seeing her, with- 


out affront, caressed by the so recent acquaintance, Luther turned to 
Nelly Harbaugh, who had sunk into one of the wooden chairs. 

" What will you answer Andrew to-morrow, Nelly ? " 

" Whatever you say." 

" Do you love him ? " 

" Luther," exclaimed the girl, as a great sob escaped from her 
throat, " there is but one I love : you know it. " 

" If I could make you happy," Luther replied, " I would marry 
you. Your great beauty makes up for your poverty, Nelly. I haf 
a good farm next to father s. Could I tepend upon your opedi- 
ence ? " 

" For life, Luther ! You are the only man I would obey with 


" Girls nowadays, Nelly, looks at a man as a slave to gratify 
all their follies. My wife must do her part in toil and saving as our 
mothers did. Can you do that ? " 

" Luther, I can for you, I believe." 

" I haf loved you a year," said Luther, deliberately. " Kiss me ! " 

Little Katy rose from her lover s side and came forward. 

" Oh, what a night of happiness ! " she cried. " Hiresht se, Lu 
ther ? Marry and call Nelly wife. I hoped you would, for Nelly 
is willful. But she is beautiful, too." 

After Katy kissed them both, her friend, with a moments care, 
exclaimed : 

" Luther, will you hitch up your horse and buggy and drive me 
home ? " 

" Now ? " 

" Yes, I do not want to face that man to-morrow. He may be 

" Andrew ? Why, stay and tell him. Be up and down about it." 

" No," said Nelly, firmly, "I do not want to see him. He has 
once before threatened me, and, though he is a coward, he is unsafe. 
Tell him, Katy, from me, Good-by forever. " 

Her face expressed decision yet apprehension. Luther stepped 
out, and soon came to the door with the buggy. 

" Nelly," he said, putting on his hat and big over-jacket, " it 
looks as if I had pegun to obey y -ou." 

" To-morrow, Katy," exclaimed Nelly, nervously, " we will meet 
you and Lloyd at the forks of the road this side of the mountain, 
going to meeting." 



Lloyd Quantrell, as the door closed upon them, drew Katy to his 
heart again. 

" Beloved," he murmured to her, " who would have thought it 
this morning ? That my empty, hungry heart would now be full ? 
That you, dear child, were waiting for me ? " 

" I love you, Lloyd," said Katy. " I hope te Lord sent you to 
me. Come, put your right hand on your head and this left hand 
under the sole of your foot, and say after me, All petween my 
two hands pelongs to God ! " 

" All between my two hands belongs to God," Lloyd Quantrell 

" Good-night, Lloyd." 

She slipped from his ardent grasp. 

As they gave the long, wistful kiss of faith and future, pain and 
gladness, life and love, a door opened and Jake Bosler poked his 
head down the stairs, and saw them clasped together, without re 

" Soon-up," Jake uttered, sleepily. " Bi m-by." 



LOOKING through the small stone windows of his sleeping-room, 
as soon as he was awakened by the big bell, Lloyd Quantrell saw 
the red and white spires of Middletown peeping low to the south, 
and the bounding profile of the Blue Ridge overlap itself like ele 
phants marching, and the Catoctin Mountain to the east leap out 
of the plain like a boy s ball bouncing forward and falling again. 

The Sunday morning dawn touched the high summits and crests 
of this double panorama with gilt as if it was the picture-frame, 
while between, just warming with the light, white farm-houses and 
gray barns, straight yellow-corn rows, sheep with brown backs, and 
next year s wheat just spearing above the pebbly swells, made the 
valley of the Catoctin seem itself another mountain, only kept down 
by its abundance. 

Jake Bosler opened the latchless door without knocking, and 
entered with Lloyd s clothes dried and pressed. 


" Soon-down. Bi m-by ! " Jake said, looking at Atzerodt asleep 
pon the floor. 

" Who pressed these clothes so well, Jake ? Katy, I think ? " 

" Yaw ; she shtayed oop last naucht, Lloyd, to git tern purty." 

" God bless her ! " cried Lloyd. " And you, too, Jake, for being 
her father." 

" Oh, yaw, Lloyd," Jake Bosler said, taking the proffered hand 
humbly. " Katy s my letsht te last, I mean, Lloyd. Luter, he s 
engaged now to Nelly Harbaugh." 

The man lying on the floor, in the second feather-bed, muttered 
here : 

" I can t keep soper unless you marry me. Come, Nelly ! make 
me a home." 

" T zu shpoat" Jake murmured, " Nelly wanted Luter ; Antrew 
wanted Nelly. When Antrew went to ped, Nelly took Luter. I 
don t knows not ing about it." 

" Nelly took Luter ! " Atzerodt spoke, rising upon his elbow and 
looking through hot, dry eyes. 

Jake Bosler looked still humbler, and. as he turned down the 
stairs, said compassionately : 

" Soon-up ! Bi m-by ! " 

"Yes, poor fellow," Lloyd Quantrell answered for Jake, "wait 
for sun-up. Bi m-by it will shine bright, Andrew, from another 
pair of eyes." 

" Where is she ? " whispered Atzerodt. 

" Luther took her away last night. She thought it would dis 
tress both of you to see each other." 

" O my Gott ! " the unhappy man threw his face into the gay 
feather quilt " she wrote to me to come and marry her. Dis is 
her letter." 

He began to weep like a broken-hearted child. Lloyd reflected 
that even this unspiritual being had a heart. 

" Don t be too hard on her, my lad," he spoke ; " she s poor and 
ambitious. She thought well of you, but your coming has brought 
the man she loved most, to the popping-point at last." 

Atzerodt finished his fit of weeping and rose up. 

" Gif me a drink ! " he pleaded, " I can t eat none. I ll git on te 
road an tramp agin." 

" Pull at it light, Andrew," Lloyd interrupted, as he saw the 
deep draught the other took. 


" She said she d gif me her answer when I got soper," Atzerodt 
exclaimed, pulling his slouched hat over his brows ; " she s run away 
from her promise. I ll never pe soper agin, so help me Gott ! " 

Again bursting into a wail and tears, he went down the steps 
and reappeared from the barn, riding a horse. Pausing a moment 
at the foot of the hill and looking fiercely back, he shook his fist and 
shouted : 

" Gott tarn dat house an eferypody in it ! " 

Then, with a cruel blow at his horse, and another sob and gush 
of tears, he galloped away. 

" Dutch, Dutch ! " Lloyd Quantrell said"; " not fit to have a wife. 
Yet the fine Swisser did deceive him. She is a Dutch Venus ; I 
might have won her instead of Katy. Dare I marry either ? Well, 
I can be in love." 

He took his gun and game-bag to carry them away. The dove 
was still in the game-bag, and he brought it out and looked at it 

" By George ! " he exclaimed, " Albion did point at little Katy, 
truly, just as he nosed this poor little bird. If I lived long among 
the Dutch I would get to believe in ghosts." 

Katy was finishing the setting of the table, and she went up and 
kissed Lloyd before her father. 

" I reckon you think I m familiar for a stranger, Jake," Lloyd 

" How else would you git acquainted ? " queried Katy s father. 

" I told /adder you was my peau," Katy said, blushing. 

" Yaw," Jake said, " if Katy didn t tell her olt dawdy when she 
was happy, how could he pe glad ? " 

Katy spread her hands over the table and said the blessing in 
English, and Jake Bosler ended it with Amen, 

" Lloyd," asked Jake, after Katy had helped them to coffee and 
ham and eggs, " what religion is you ? Is you Baptist or not ? " 

" I m a poor sinner, Jake. I was brought up a Catholic. That s 
how I was educated. My father is a convert ; my mother was a 

" Any religion is petter dan none, Lloyd. Us Paptists was pe- 
fore Martin Luter. We asks all to come to te Lord s supper and 
to pe our friends." 

A big wagon, with clean straw in the bottom, drawn by two 
great gray horses, Jake Bosler drove to the door and cried, " Git in, 


Lloyd." Little Katy had a bundle with her and a large basket, and 
Lloyd threw in his gun and kit. 

"Stop," said Lloyd, as they started off; "won t you lock the 
house up ? " 

" Oh, no, Lloyd," replied Jake, " nobody steals up this a-way, 
pecause nobody is lazy, and the poor is a-welcome." 

Jake Bosler s cattle in the bottoms looked up to see them go 
those roan, red, white, and speckled cattle, calling " moo " so ten 
derly, and each with the great mild Bosler eyes ; and the turkeys, 
now fattening, sat under the cherry-trees in their white bodies with 
wings of gold and red and breasts of black, all agitated that Katy 
was going ; the peacock spread his tail of eyes and fashions, and 
broke his heart in one long sob of protest ; and pea fowls and Guinea- 
hens, cocks and pullets, came trooping from the barn to see the 
face which fed them smiles, as her hands had given them food, go 
away but for a day. 

Along the row of cherry-trees, by a little mill-race flowing in the 
clover, near hedges of the new Osage orange from the blood-red fields 
of Kansas, and where gum-trees matched the sycamores in strength 
in some old sedgy pasture, they rolled in the reddish road, and now 
and then saw the Catoctin Mountain s purple-green sides, and black 
crest and yellowing foliage, bound up and fall. 

At the first little hamlet they turned their backs upon the Catoc 
tin range and faced the South Mountain to the northwest, and Katy 
at the little towns pointed out the United Brethren and the Lutheran 
churches ready for worship. 

Going between the high, billowy corn-hills to cross the main Ca 
toctin Creek, they rose upon a bold mound in their way, and only 
three miles ahead saw their road scale the Blue Ridge, which, like a 
giant child playing through the sky, showed dimples of turning 
foliage in his austere countenance, and grace and sweetness nursed 
by storm. 

Near the foot of the mountain, at a road coming in from the 
north, Luther Bosler and Nelly Harbaugh were waiting in a buggy. 

Nelly now had a dress of bright colors and a straw hat of city 
jauntiness trimmed with natural flowers, and Lloyd smiled to see, 
as she put her straight foot from the buggy, that she wore hoops 
and flounces. 

" Katy," he said to his Ijttle girl, who sat in a black Dunker hood 
and cape and gown, her hair plaited down her back, and her white 



Dunker cap transparent at her little ears, " why don t you dress 
like Nelly?" 

" I am not so peautiful," Katy said, looking down at her dark 
gown and white apron, " and, Lloyd, I want to love God, who has 
let you love me." 

" My child," Lloyd said, not repelling some tears which came to 
his eyes, " why do you not see the wicked fellow I am and turn 
away from me ? I am not worthy of your pure heart, Katy ! " 

" Yes, you are," Katy said ; " maybe I can pring you to God if I 
try hard. What else is woman for? " 

The tears came again and yet again to the young man s eyes ; 
at last they streamed upon his cheeks, and he felt them dropping 
like blood from a fresh wound into his hands, as he held his palms 
open and thought they would fill. It was the first mention of God, 
the first affection bestowed upon him, so hungry-hearted, since his 
Christian mother s death. 

Katy threw her arms around him and drew his head upon her 
little neck. 

" Tese is love-feast tears," she said. "Our Saviour made tern 
holy, darling, at his last supper. Come, take it with me to-day and 
pe happy." 

He sobbed so hard he could not speak : a past world of love 
now faded in the grave, another world of fatherly affection he had 
sought but could not find ; recollections of prayers long taught but 
long unuttered, of gentle feelings brutalized by coarse city contacts, 
of the sense of home not yet obliterated but blunted, and of being 
at this moment too well, too nobly, if humbly beloved, stirred all the 
nature of the young man up and melted into rills of tears the ice in 
caverns long denied the air. 

" My God ! " he spoke at last, " can love do this ? Was I ex 
perimenting with love, and finding such religion ? Katy," he sud 
denly looked up and pushed her from him, " you must let me 
go ! " 

" Nefer, now," said Katy, looking with all her heart and great 
deep eyes upon him. " God, gif me this soul, and let it feed with me. 
of thy supper and drink thy precious blood ! " 

Coming to the wagon to find Lloyd in tears and Katy clinging 
to him, Luther Bosler exclaimed : 

" IVass treibsht olla weil? Are you two quarreling ? " 

" No, Luther," answered Lloyd, wiping his eyes ; " Katy is trying 


to make something good out of me. Yonder mountains ought to 
be between us." 

" Faith/ " observed Luther, mildly, " can remove mountains/ it 
says. Let us cross them together." 

He took the reins, and Nelly Harbaugh sat by him, and so they 
slowly went up the pebbly mountain-road, old Jake going before in 
the buggy, with the parting words : 

" Love-feast. Bi m-by ! " 

Sitting with his arm around Katy, and with sweetly troubled 
feelings, yet manlier than he had ever known, Lloyd looked back 
into Catoctin Valley and remarked : 

" Luther, why can t I see the houses and towns now ? " 

" Because te upper valley is hilly and tey puilt te houses py te 
springs petween te hills. But tey is all tere, Lloyd, and whoefer has 
pusiness with tern can find tern. When their country calls for tern, 
up will run te flag eferywheres and pe peautiful." 

"We ll be there, Luther, won t we? This great, free Union is 
worth fighting for ! " 

" Yes, Lloyd. A pity it ain t free, too, and ten, I think, we 
should always have peace." 

" What a singular Dutchman ! " Lloyd thought to himself. 
"What he says seems eloquent, because he is so honest. How 
came he to be so grave and parental ? I am not so. He is like a 
father to his father because, I suppose, he is so good a son. My 
father ! Why will he not give me his confidence ? Do I deserve it ? " 

" I live yonder where the hills are all rocky and wild, past Wolfs- 
ville," said Nelly Harbaugh, pointing north. " Mount Misery, where 
the counterfeiters had their cave in the Revolutionary War, is close by 
me. The Tories hid there, too, that were caught and hanged. I m 
bad root, Lloyd," blushed Nelly, with a deep look on Luther. 

" The heart is the true rest," Luther said. " Keep that steady, 
and your pad ancestors will not trouble you. But whose dogs 
are those ? 

He pointed back, and coming together in the road were Fritz 
and Albion, the latter leading on, as if he had proposed the excur 
sion ; Fritz hanging back, yet looking at the carriage sturdily, as 
ready to take his reproof. 

" Fritz, wo gaesht hee?" spoke Luther, without temper, to his 
dog, but looking serious, and stopping the horses on the mountain- 


The Sugar-Loaf Mountain far away was peeping hazily over the 
giant ramparts of Catoctin, and up from the depths behind them 
followed the solemn green woods to where, upon this summit, lay 
ledges of sandstone, and the oak and chestnut trees shook with a 
coming tempest of wind and rain. 

Fritz came straight up to the carriage, looked at Luther unhap 
pily, and barked. 

The city dog, with a vicious barking at Lloyd, took to the wood- 
side and disappeared ahead in the road. 

"Evil communications corrupt good manners, Luther," Lloyd 
said. " My dog has tempted yours away." 

" Fritz," spoke Luther to his dog, shaking his head, "was not in 
the hapit of leafing home, where he is my friend and guard." 

The dog came right up under the whip and barked with an ex 
citement above apprehension, as if to say, " Whip me, but spare my 
pride !" 

" Unfortunate dog ! " exclaimed Luther, but more tenderly. " Can 
I do anything put send him home ? " 

The dog started back with head down, needing no further hu 

" Stop, Fritz ! "Luther continued, his face lighting up, " does any 
person here speak for this tisopedient friend of mine, who has, per 
haps, peen under pad atvice to-day ? " 

The dog had stopped, and when both Katy and Lloyd cried 
" Yes, do forgive him ! " and Luther replied, " Very well, then," the 
dog took his place meekly under the wagon, and they entered the 
summit forest. 

The winding road-track through the fallen chestnut-leaves and 
stone-heaps reminded them of Atzerodt s story, as they saw the 
pale, lemon-yellow leaves twirl in the rising gust like witches in a 
circle, and the squirrels run when mischievous lightning chased them 
from tree to tree. The clean trunks arose smoothly from stony 
ledges, and, ever young in form and foliage, though in their autumn 
days, the chestnut forest had an appearance pleasing even now in 
the grasp of coming storm. Something of the light and straight 
nature of the French was in it, tender in greenness, comely in ma 
turity, engaging in the burr, and toothsome in the nut. However 
lofty the mighty shafts might rise, though monarchs of the forest, 
they had the complaisance and sentiment of kings in France. 

Nothing crossed their way but wood-cutters paths barely trace- 


able through the translucent goldness of the trees and litter, and the 
rail-splitters piles and chips seemed only larger yellow leaves and 
ferns that strewed the vistas. A cool, small cedar-tree occasionally 
appeared, like a green parasol in the bright sunshine ; but nothing of 
man or domestic beast broke the Sabbath stillness of the mountain- 
tops hardly the eagle yonder, so near overhead he almost touched 
the trees, like Jove taking his jealous watch and throwing from his 
eyes upon the woods below the citron glisten of Olympus. 

" See ! " whispered Nelly Harbaugh to Luther, " yonder are men 
negroes runaway slaves. There s money for catching them, 
Luther ! Quick ! " 

Across the road, not fifty yards before, passed two black men, 
one carrying the other. 

The younger was barefooted and had no coat, and limped as he 
labored under the older man s weight. 

The old man seemed in the palsy of fear, or age, or disease, and, 
as he saw the carriage coming and women in it, a habit of courtesy, 
too old to be forgotten, made him take off the old straw hat he wore 
and bow almost idiotically and make a chattering noise. 

Attracted by the movement, the young man turned and saw the 
carriage, and at a run, still limping, he bore the old man into the 
woods, flying to the north. 

" Oh ! " cried Nelly, " they re gone ; we might have caught them. 
Along this mountain they travel at nights. It s hardly thirty miles 
across Maryland to the free State. We have got people here who 
live by catching them and get hundreds of dollars reward " 

"And a millstone it will pe around their necks," exclaimed 

" I reckon so, too," Lloyd said. " Niggers oughtn t to run away, 
but let somebody else than me do the catching." 

At this moment the pointer-dog, Albion, reappeared out of the 
place in the woods where the fugitives first emerged, and his deli 
cate brown kid nose was trailing something. 

" Hist ! " cried Lloyd ; " come here, Albion ! " 

Raising his head only to bark ill-naturedly, and striving to lick 
his torn ear once, the white and yellow pointer dropped to the scent 
again and darted into the opposite woods, barking. 

" I hope he won t petray those poor fellows," Luther said, " but 
we can t stop for him, for te rain is coming hard, and tere s no shel 
ter till we get to Smoketown." 



" Oh," cried Nelly Harbaugh, " stop there at the fortune-teller s ! " 

The storm now burst in half-sunny nonchalance upon the mount 
ain they were on, and yet, while its lightnings leaped vengefully here, 
the parallel mountain, beyond the gorge they were overhanging, 
seemed to be serene as Sabbath, and through the mist of sheet- 
rain, at pauses, they could see its happy countenance of chestnut 
woods and sulphur-tinted leaves, waiting like one beatified martyr 
for another to pass through his fires. 

With cool, executioner-like method, the spirits of the storm 
whipped the longer mountain s back with rods of forked fire until 
it smoked, and the sound of riven trees beneath the thunderbolts 
seemed like the broken rods of Pilate s soldiery shivered upon the 
unanswering Pioneer. Yet, sometimes red as blood, the electric 
current flowed along the hairy woodlands till rain, like floods of 
tears from heaven, streamed down to cool the mountain s anguish, 
and groans, from none knew where, feebly or wail-like accompanied 
the tempest. 

The road grew black ; the steady gray wagon-horses shrank as if 
they would crawl upon their bellies ; dust and water, thunder and 
flame mutinied against each other in their common purpose, and 
fought together without proceeding, while the great dike of the Blue 
Ridge Mountain buried itself in mystery or melted away. 

" Why, this is hell, or the portent of it ! " Lloyd Quantrell spoke, 
covering Katy with his body and arms. 

" Say Te Words, Lloyd," he heard her whispering, " and we will 
pe happy." 

" Steaty, Jim ! Steaty, Sam ! Holt steaty, poys ! " Luther Bos- 
ler s voice spoke calmly ; " it will soon pe ofer." 

A scream from Nelly Harbaugh at this moment, and the horses 
leaping in their harness and striving to break from the driver s prac 
ticed hands, were occasioned by a sight in the road which seemed 
almost supernatural : a strange, half-transparent, rose-colored mist, 
like lava dissolved in wine, sprang up as if the lightning had been 
distilled and held a long moment in atmospheric solution, and 
through it were seen at the horses heads two men and two large 
hounds, gazing up at the carriage, and themselves surprised as 
much as its occupants. 

The men were burly, coarse-looking, neither good nor evil of 
countenance, and clearly people of this world. 

While the occupants of the carriage gazed at them for a period 


of time measured only by its vividness upon the nerves and heart, 
blackness, as of a cloud, came down again like a mighty crow alight 
ing in the road, and with it a silence that was the Sabbath of the 

Slowly this yielded to the influences of -a gentle shower and re 
turning sun, and soon they saw the road before them plainly open, 
and the freshly twisted and prostrate trees embarrassing the way. 

" What made you scream, Nelly ? " asked Luther, stooping to 
kiss her. 

" The slave-catchers," cried Nelly. " Didn t you see them ? " 

" Did you know their faces ? " 

" Oh, yes Lew and Ben Logan. They watch at nights and on 
all the stormy days ; for then the slaves are running. They re rich, 
I reckon." 

" Not in conscience, I think," mused Luther, getting down to 
examine his harness. " We must stop at te first house in Smoke- 
town to tie up this breeching." 

" Oh, I m so glad ! " Nelly Harbaugh exclaimed. " That s Han 
nah Ritner s, the fortune-teller." 

" Lloyd," cried little Katy, " I wasn t frightened at all you held 
me so close. And then you said Te Words last night, and all your 
body was God s." 



A LITTLE farther the South Mountain opened like an amphi 
theatre, and showed some patches of fields and farms at the base of 
their broken mounds ; but the landscape was yet ragged and almost 
uninhabited till, on the descending road before them, some small 
houses of a poor appearance were finally seen straggling along, each 
to itself, as if they came together by accident and had hardly discov 
ered each other, so embowered were they in fruit-trees, weeds, gar 
dens, and corn. 

" There s Smoketown," Nelly Harbaugh cried ; " some calls it 
Ginny Winders s town. Old Ginny keeps a groggery for the black 
berry-pickers, chestnut- sellers, wood-choppers, charcoal-burners, and 
slave-catchers. Oh, it s a hard place ! " 


" I should think so," Lloyd Ouantrell remarked, looking at the 
near mountains and at a deep gorge behind him, like the wide-open 
throat of a wild beast ready to devour the scattered place ; " it seems 
to me to be running away, like the children in the Bible chased by 
Elisha s bears. Who is this Hannah Ritner? " 

" She s a stranger, but I reckon she s lived here for years," Nelly 
replied ; " she s religious, and teaches the poor children to spell and 
to sew. Some say she s crazy, and that s why they go to her to get 
their fortunes told. She tells them real true," 

By this time they had come to the first house in the place on the 
right-hand side a small, very neat, whitewashed cottage, with an 
old blackened roof, and with a little portico in front, the latter 
covered with a trained blackberry-vine. 

The house stood in a small arbored garden, and the mock-orange 
and gourd vines could be seen dropping their yellow or roan-gold 
fruit from these small arbors, and also from the locust-trees along 
the roadside paling. Yellow marigolds grew against the gable ; 
bright flowers in whitewashed flower-pots showed along the path 
leading back to the door from the gate ; and a willow-tree in the 
garden seemed to weep for an unmarked grave which was not 

The fruit-trees and bean-poles and shocked corn added a look of 
rankness and weediness in the midst of such providence and taste, 
and the forest coming down from the stony hills behind, in bits of 
chestnut thicket and brush, seemed to wrap the small cottage in. 

An old stable was at the edge of this forest, and paths went 
back from it into the rain-raveled mountain-spurs. 

Nothing else Lloyd Quantrell could see but a large preserving- 
kettle in the garden, hung on a wooden crane ; and while he looked 
at this, a gray and yellow fox, licking his chops of sirup, leaped up 
from the kettle and ran into the woods, followed hotly by Fritz. 

Nelly Harbaugh stepped out first, at the entrance of a little lane, 
deeply shaded with cherry and plum trees, which crept back almost 
mysteriously to the stable ; a horse was tied here, and she had 
barely seen it when a man came through the garden and stopped 
her in the lane. 

" Andrew ! " she exclaimed, and started to run back. 

" Nelly ! " cried Atzerodt for it was he and he seized her by 
the wrist. 

The girl, a moment shrinking, drew her graceful figure up 


haughtily and cried, " If you strike me, I ll have you repent in 
Hagerstown jail ! " 

" Going to haf your fortune told, Miss Nelly ? " muttered the 
sallow, outcast man. " I ll tell it to you, py Jing ! " 

His lips trembled with excitement. The girl tore her arm away, 
and with a quick gesture she picked up a stick from a flower-pot, 
rending out the deep-red rose which grew upon it. Lloyd Quan- 
trell had quickly come upon the scene, and he marked the fine 
beauty of the girl thus impassioned and defiant. 

"I declare, Nelly," he said, "you re as splendid now as a great 
actress on the stage ! " 

The words seemed to have a power to arrest Nelly Harbaugh s 
attention even in her apprehensions. 

" Am I, Lloyd ? " she replied. " Oh, I would rather be that 
than anything in the world ! " 

" Dat is shoost what you are fit for, py Jing ! " Atzerodt broke 
in. " Luter Bosler, you got my girl ; she ll pe no good to you." 

" Come, Antrew, forget and forgive," Luther remarked, coming 
forward from the horses ; " pad words putter no parsnips." 

He reached out his hand, which the other repelled, ancl Atzerodt 
continued in a reckless yet suffering tone : 

" Luter, she ll get you in love and preak your heart. She is 
false to eferypody." 

" You lie ! " exclaimed the girl, herself the dangerous person now, 
seeking to get past Quantrell and ply her stick on Atzerodt. 

Lloyd interposed good-naturedly. 

" She wants your money, Luter. She s a cold-hearted Swisser, 
you pet. She ll nefer marry you if somepody else will gif her petter 
clothes. Your poor heart will hang where mine is now, and den 
you ll feel for me." 

He broke down in almost touching, though maudlin drunken 
misery, and the girl dropped her stake of wood and pushed past 
Lloyd Quantrell. 

" I could not love you," she said to Atzerodt. " You earn noth 
ing ; you can not support a wife. Never do you come near me 
again, but say good-by forever now." 

He called her an ugly word, which he had barely done when 
Lloyd, with a flat-hand blow, struck him to the grass, and stood 
over him, saying : 

" What do you say before Katy ? " 


"Dear Andrew," spoke Katy, coming forward, "come to church 
at Beaver Creek and pe a petter man. If you don t like us Bunkers, 
there is te Luteran church, and te Mennese church and te Breth 
ren too, all close together." 

" Nelly Harbaugh," continued Atzerodt from the ground, cowed 
but still revengeful, "you ll nefer let me forgit you. Some day I ll 
pe hung on te gallows for you, I tink." 

He remained on the wet ground with his face in the weeds, and 
all left him there and went forward to the cottage. 

As they approached it there was a sound of musical water, and 
across the embowered yard flowed a mountain stream so wide they 
could hardly step across it, and foaming now with the rain which no 
longer fell, but in the sky a rainbow took its place and spanned the. 
mountain like an arch of beauty. 

" My love," spoke Lloyd, taking Katy s arm, " the bow of prom 
ise is come already for us." 

" Lloyd," she replied, " poor Andrew suffers so, it clouds my 

The cottage seemed to be empty, and consisted of only one 
room and a kitchen, the latter low as the ground, the main room 
higher and containing a bed, an open Franklin stove, and a large 
flag-bottomed rocking-chair painted green. There was no other 
chair, but in a corner a glass-faced cupboard contained Delft plates 
and coffee service, and many bottles of cordials and home-made 
wines, and a line of jars of preserves, and also several books. 

A Bible was on the window-sill and a candlestick beside it, and 
on the wall was a print in colors of Hagar and Ishmael, showing a 
large hand, as of a man, protruding from a door, with the palm 
raised against the mother and son, who were thus shut out. 

Everything in this room was clean as it was plain, the bed-quilt 
sewn by hand from little rag savings, the wood scrubbed white, the 
stove polished, and flowers in water, on a little shallow mantel, dif 
fused a subtle perfume. 

"Hannah Ritner keeps no servant," said Nelly Harbaugh. 
" See this beautiful candle ! She makes it herself of bear s grease 
and beeswax, and they say her light never goes out the longest 

Lloyd saw a movement at the stable in the rear of the house, 
and a tall woman came from it and walked at a dignified pace to 
ward him. 


She had coal-black hair, like the crow s wing, falling in combed 
tresses below her waist, so that her shoulders and fine, straight, 
matronly form were half covered with these splendid waves of hair, 
in which some silver threads made barely an impression. 

She was one of the finest women Lloyd had ever seen, with 
something almost grand in her stature and bearing, unbent, and her 
skin of a clear, pure tint, as if its roses could be called back if she 
would only exercise the will. 

Her face was rather large than long, the jaws being of fine, 
ample mold, and her hair was cut off between the tresses in front, 
and the short tassel of jet-black frontlet there half covered her 
forehead, or nearly meeting the rich black eyebrows, and under 
these were dark eyes, large, melting, sad, compassionate, and full 
of thought, with black lashes sweeping her cheeks, and a nose 
long and fine, but neither straight nor aquiline, and like an inverted 

She was dressed in a dark gown, with a dark apron tied round 
her waist. No ornament was in her ears or on her neck or hands. 

As she approached, this woman, seeing Lloyd, opened her large 
eyes wider, but did not stop nor hesitate, yet continued to look 
straight at him till his own eyes sank down under the soul-searching 
gaze of this noble-seeming and mysterious being. 

Still advancing upon him for he stood in the door between the 
house and kitchen, looking outward through another door the 
woman made a grave, sweet inclination of her head and counte 
nance, and said, nearly like a question, yet with recognition : 

" Ouantrell ! " 

He started with astonishment. 

" Lloyd, is it not ?" she continued, with a slightly German ac 
cent, but in a voice of deep music, worthy of a prophetess. 

" Lloyd Quantrell is what they named me, v he exclaimed. 

" Is your mother dead ? " 

" Yes, madam." 

" I read so. Have you come to see the fortune-teller ? That is 
a sweet child I see behind you. Do you pretend to love her ? " 

" Pretend, madam ? " Lloyd answered with indignation, yet also 
with accusation and fear. " I hope you are not tempting me." 

" God forbid ! " she exclaimed, with stately reproof , "yet ye have 
golden tongues. What do you find to kill in these mountains like 
these simple birds of sex ? " 



She waved her hand toward the women. 

At that moment Luther Bosler perceived the dog Albion come 
out of the woods and begin to scratch and whine around the little 

" Is that your dog ? " the woman spoke, also looking toward the 
stable as if with some new interest. " Go bring him away, in 
stantly ! " 

Luther, not Lloyd, started to do so. He found his own dog, 
Fritz, returned, and Fritz followed him obediently ; but the English 
pointer was not tractable, and ran back into the chestnut and chin 
quapin bnish, whither Luther followed, calling his name. 

" Hannah," spoke Nelly Harbaugh to the woman, " the harness 
is a bit broke, and we stopped to mend it. Won t you tell our fort 
unes ? " 

" Idle request upon the Sabbath-day ! " Hannah Ritner replied. 
" I have told one fortune for you to-day already. Is not your lover 
yonder? " 

She pointed to where Atzerodt s horse was tied in the secluded 

Lloyd Quantrel!, looking there, saw Atzerodt standing up and 
looking intently toward the stable. 

" Give me your hand ! " the seer commanded, taking Nelly s in 
her own palm, and gazing with great candor and beauty of expres 
sion into her eyes. 

Lloyd thought he had never seen together three more beautiful 
women than these. 

Hannah Ritner then slowly spoke these lines, with such deep, 
distinct, and eloquent diction that Lloyd hoped she would speak 
more : 

" Ebbes dunkel und weiss marrick ich, 
Mit dunkla soil s Vmarricka dich ! 
Gaed der roth-fogel uf n rets , 
Dann waersht net dunkel or net weiss ! " 

Nelly Harbaugh muttered something Lloyd believed to be the 
protecting " Words," and dropped her fine blue eyes. 

The fortune-teller, turning her own eyes to Lloyd, exclaimed : 

" It is not my wont to tell on poor girls secrets that may smirch 
them in a man s eyes. Here is her fortune as I gave it, put in Eng 
lish words." 

Still holding Nelly Harbaugh s hand, Hannah Ritner recited to 


Lloyd and little Katy as follows, studying Katy meanwhile, and only 
once looking at the hand : 

" Something dark and white I mark, 
It shall mark thee with the dark ! 
When the red-bird takes his flight, 
Thou shalt not be dark or white ! " 

" Look out for the red-bird, Nelly," Lloyd exclaimed ; " the dove 
is my warning." 

Hannah Ritner caught the word and repeated it : 

" Die Dowb : that was the bird of the Holy Spirit which de 
scended on the baptizers, cooing as it flew from heaven, This is 
my beloved Son ! My well-beloved son !" she turned to Lloyd, 
with something very tender, yet sorrowful, in her great eyes, " you 
may be baptized with fire. Seek even in the fire for that immortal 
dove which bravely swept the Deluge with his tired pinions, and re 
turned to the little ark of love at last. Why do you seek this simple 
maiden s eyes as if their luster was the window of that ark to you ? 
She trembles while I ask. Fear not, my little peasant-maid ! I ll 
tell your lover s fortune, and, if I tell it true, never need you fear to 
come to Hannah Ritner and ask her counsel. Lloyd, give me your 

She took Lloyd s hand, and little Katy, full of faith and yearning, 
took his other hand almost in stealth, and looked in Hannah Rit- 
ner s eyes with simple pleading. 

At that moment, Lloyd Quantrell, cool and undisturbed, saw the 
stable-door unclose, and a negro emerge, carrying an old man on 
his back, and, looking backward agonizingly, the negro stole down 
the embowered lane. 

Lloyd looked again in Hannah Ritner s eyes. He could not see 
them, for they were bent upon his hand, and, to his astonishment, 
some tears fell from somewhere on his palm. 

" Why do you weep ? " he asked ; " I am nothing to you." 

" This is a large, strong hand," answered Hannah Ritner, with 
deep feeling. " I see the marks of conflicts upon it, but not of toil. 
Oh, find some task to do, my son, and bless your Maker for sweet, 
constant occupation ! " 

" Tell my fortune ! " spoke Lloyd. " I am not afraid to hear it. 
You will not hurt this little girl s feelings, I know ; for she is dear 
to me, Mother Hannah ! " 


At this familiar salutation, tears fell from Hannah Ritner s eyes 
again, and she was unable to proceed for some time. 

Throwing an arm around each, she drew both Lloyd and Katy 
to her breast, and, looking down on them, the silent tears fell from 
her splendid eyes all the more, and not like the tears of anguish, but 
of great commiseration. 

Lloyd thought she was like the Virgin he had seen a picture of at 
the Catholic school, whose everlasting cause of love and woe was the 
successive ages of mankind, and their many sorrows, ever to recur. 

Little Katy, also tearful and tender, reached up her lips and 
kissed the prophetess s mouth, saying : 

" Fergeb uns imser shoolda ! You must be good, I know." 

" God bless you, my child, for those sweet words ! " said Hannah 
Ritner, quieted and strong again. 

Looking now at Lloyd with deep interest, she repeated what he 
could not understand, in her beautiful intonation, thus : 

" All s game s unna die Sunn Ich sae, 
Fer deina Flindt fleegt in die Hoh ; 
Und wann aw dodt sheest allum ort, 
Dann singt die Darddle-Daub doch fort ! " 

" Come, Mother Ritner ! " Lloyd pleasantly entreated, yet feeling 
something remarkable to be in this person, and a slight sense of 
superstition in himself, " you will not leave my fate such a Dutch 
riddle as that ? Tell my coming luck in English, too ! " 

The strange, stately woman tapped her forehead as if seeking to 
recollect or to compose, or, at least, to translate something. 

" I have spent so much of my time, my children, among these 
mountain poor, teaching them in Dutch, that my English verse 
comes slowly back to me, and I am growing old, too, and memory 
and wit are weaker." 

With the same slight German accent she then made the transla 
tion of Lloyd s fortune, not readily, yet with eloquence, like profound 
conviction : 

" All the game beneath the sun 
Shall rise up before thy gun ; 
When thou killest everything, 
Still the turtle-dove will sing ! " 

" Thank God for that, Katy ! " Lloyd exclaimed. " Let the tur 
tle dove be heard, whatever happens to us. And now, Mother Rit- 


ner, dear little Katy is waiting to have her fate told before she goes 
to church ; for Luther. I reckon, has mended the harness by this 

" I must be quick," Hannah Ritner said ; " for I am strangely 
nervous this morning. It seems to me I hear the baying of dogs. 
Katy, let me see your hand ! Why, my darling, the lines in it are 
almost like-my own. I can tell your fortune easily." 

As she repeated the following lines, Katy listened with deepen 
ing awe and final trembling, so that Lloyd kissed her to his heart, 
at the end : 

" In dara bond sae Ich en Ring 
Ferleera, sollsht du s, schoenes ding ! " 

Katy heard with prayerful wonder and fear. The seer spoke to 
her with deep and solemn tones the next couplet, as follows : 

" Doch bawdst du fer s im krickly noof, 
Dan sollsht du s finna bei ma Buch ! " * 

As she spoke, Hannah Ritner accidentally laid her hand upon 
the Bible. 

" Now for the English, Mother Hannah ! " Lloyd exclaimed 
seeing that Katy Bosler looked pale and frightened. 

" What noises are those ? " Hannah Ritner whispered. " Surely 
it is the blood-hound s bark I hear ! Who is at my stable ? " 

She strode through the kitchen and shouted : 

" What do you there ? Stealers are ye of the souls and bodies 
of your fellow-men ! " 

Lloyd, Katy, and Nelly following, they beheld come out of the 
small chestnuts behind the stable, first the dog Albion, very ani 
mated and frolicsome, and he threw himself into the attitude of point 
ing game a few steps from the stable-door. 

Next there bounded from the same thicket three dogs apparently 
fighting, and one of these was engaged in a clinched struggle with 
another, which bayed deep and loud ; and the third dog, a great 
blood-hound, rushed upon the stouter of these dogs and bit him 
terribly, while Albion also barked as he " pointed," and so the air was 
full of fierce, savage noises. 

Luther Bosler, going to the relief of the injured dog, which was 

* These predictions are all translated into Pennsylvania Dutch by Thomas 
C. Zimmerman, of Reading, Pa. 


now seen to be his own Fritz, was himself set upon by the two 
hounds, and they seemed to be on the point of tearing him to pieces, 
when out of the thicket rushed the two men already related to have 
crossed the mountain during the thunderstorm, and both of these 
shouted loudly to the blood-hounds and pulled them separate ways. 

" It s the Logan boys," exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh ; " husht se 
g sana ? There must be runaway slaves hiding about Hannah Rit- 
ner s house." 

" Go in there at your peril, hyenas ! " shouted Hannah Ritner, 
throwing herself between the stable and the pursuers. " This land 
is mine, and I will defend it with my life ! " 

She had drawn upon her head a large leghorn hat, and as she 
spread her arms across the stable-door and put her back against it 
and threw her fine white throat and strongly pointed chin up, the 
long elf-hair fell so wildly and so. dead black down from her pallid 
face that both the men halted a moment irresolutely. 

Lloyd Quantrell s ill-starred dog, however, dashed at Hannah 
and barked his ill-tempered and short, snappish dislike. Lloyd him 
self knocked the dog over with a stone, and it retired yelping a little 
distance, and again, with one fore-leg extended and the other lifted 
crookedly as if lame, raised its muzzle toward the stable, put its 
tail out straight, and cast its eyes trancefully sidewise like a somnam 

The long hounds bounded against the stable as if resolved to 
throw it down. 

" Infernal dog ! " thought Lloyd ; " but a pointer s a hound, too, 
bred on a spaniel. Open that door, Hannah ! " Lloyd raised his 
voice. " If their niggers are not there, I ll fill both these loafers 
hounds with shot." 

" They shall not go in ! " Hannah Ritner cried. 

" Interfere with us at your peril, young man ! " the taller of the 
ruffians said, but without any temper. " We ve suspected this place 
a good while, and now we ve got a warrant to search it. The dogs 
trailed right yer." 

He produced his warrant, and, as he walked to Hannah Ritner 
and presented it, his companion slipped in at the rotten stable-side. 

Hannah moved a little way to examine the warrant, and the 
stable-door, pushed open from within, showed nothing there but a 
lady s horse, all saddled, and nibbling at his fodder. 

The two slave-catchers hastily examined the inside of the stable ; 


their dogs, assisted by Albion, smelling and seeking everywhere, but 
in vain. 

" We may be mistaken," said one of the men, a little pale, and 
hitching up his wet water-proof boots, " but we shall now search the 

"There s nothing there," Lloyd Quantrell sternly interposed, 
" and now I ll pepper both your dogs with my gun, as I have prom 

Lloyd started at a quick stride toward the wagon at the end of 
the lane. He had walked but a step, however, when a voice was 
heard to cry : 

" Coom on ! Te niggers is here, poys, and te reward is mine, py 
Jing ! " 

At the end of the little lane, the black boy before observed, with 
the old negro man upon his back, was receding and trembling before 
Lloyd Quantrell s gun cocked at Andrew Atzerodt s shoulder. 

" I shoost found tis gun in te wagon," Atzerodt exclaimed, "and 
took it and headed off tese niggers after tey had walked ofer me in 
tis lane." 

The hunters and their dogs dashed forward ; the young man 
was overthrown and the old man fell heavily to the ground, and the 
wild dogs set upon them till dragged away. 

When silence was restored after the baying thunder, the old 
black man still lay where he had fallen, and the younger man, 
bloody and nearly naked after struggling with the dogs, looked 
down upon him in despair. 

" Father ! " he cried, " is you hurt ? Oh, speak to me, father ! " 

With a painful effort the old man turned from his side to his 
back, looked up into his son s face with a convulsive shudder of his 
lineaments, and saying, "Honey, I s mos gone," straightened out, 
stone dead. 

The young man knelt, clammy with the sweat for life and free 
dom, and raising his hands, clasped together, above his head, sobbed 
out the words : 

"Father! Daddy! Don t die now, when I se carried ye so 
fur. I ll go back to ole missis and take it all on me ! " 

The old man s jaw had fallen ; his gray hairs only moved in the 
mountain zephyrs ; he seemed worn out with age and terror, and 
very quiet in the light of God. 

" Oh ! " shouted the young man, turning toward the spectators of 


the scene, his hands still lifted prayerfully together, " kill me, won t 
you, and let me reign with daddy? Reign, Lord !" he screamed 
with sudden, awful ecstasy, " and let me die and reign with father, 
too. I kin die under de whip if I kin reign ! " 

His streaming eyes were strained with this religious despair, till 
their gleaming pupils grew small upon the great white disks of his 
eyeballs. He was a sinewy, high-purposed young man, and the 
dogs came forward and glared at him as if he might be dangerous 

But as he prayed for human hands to give him death, his own 
long toil in night and storm, bramble and mountain, carrying that 
old man, and the excitement of his sorrow, threw him in a fit upon 
the earth blind, silent, desolate. 

The handcuffs of the Logans were fastened on his wrists, even 
before he fell, and while he appealed to human nature and to God. 

" Off with him, while he s quiet ! " spoke the elder Logan to his 
brother. " There s no reward for the older chap, and so we ll leave 
his body here for the neighbors, or the birds." 

The two short, thick-set men, tying the unconscious negro s 
limbs, lifted .him on their shoulders and started to go. 

" Stop ! " interposed Andrew Atzerodt ; " I caught dat nigger, 
and want my money for him." 

" The reward is three hundred dollars," replied the slave-dealer; 
" here is a hundred for your share, if you put in no further claim." 

He passed a bank-note to the haggard man, who looked at it 
with fervor and accepted it, and then, turning to Nelly Harbaugh in 
a moment of revulsion and triumph, he cried : 

" I earn nothing ? Heigh ? I can t support a wife ? Heigh ? 
Take it, Nelly, and I ll pecome a nigger- ketcher and make you rich, 

PY Jing " 

The girl seemed attracted by so much money. She hesitated. 

" Off with you ! " hoarsely spoke Luther Bosler. " It is te Sab 
bath, and I would not fight. But this insult to a lady excites me. 
Flood-money to a woman engaged to be married to an honest 
man ? " 

His slow, intense exasperation was like some giant s aroused 
power infectious, because so deep and real. Lloyd Quantrell felt 
it, and wresting his gun from Atzerodt s hand, he cried : 

" Luther, I m with you. We two can clean all three of these 
ruffians out." 


He looked at his caps and raised the bright twisted barrel. The 
dogs perceived disorder near and growled ominously. 

"You are too good a citizen, Bosler, to break the law," ex 
claimed the slave-taker. " Let us go in peace. We only do our 
duty under the compromise laws of the United States and the 
warrant of the State of Virginia." 

" Put down that man ! " Lloyd Ouantrell said to the speaker, 
with the cool zest of collision in him. * 

"I ll put him down," the mountain ranger answered, "at the 
town of Harper s Ferry, and not before ! " 

The two girls became alarmed at the scene before them, and 
Atzerodt moved toward his horse. 

" Go ! " spoke Luther Bosler, with deadly calm. " God s ven 
geance hovers ofer tis guilty land ! " 

" It will come to-night ! " pealed the deep tones of Hannah Rit- 
ner, as she walked forward. " Let me prophesy with head uncovered, 
as the Scripture commands woman to do ! " 

She threw her hat upon the ground and turned her face to the 
south. Her long, wild hair she threw behind her shoulders with 
sudden nervous energy, and her large dark eyes seemed inverted 
and gazing inward, and her tones were like a woman s who had never 
spoken with human people, but had wandered alone, talking loudly 
with herself. 

" These are the two angels sent to Sodom "she indicated the 
slave-catchers. " Turn in, my lords, and tarry in my house and 
wash your feet ! For ye are compassed round. The mountain 
fires shall drown ye and yon city to which ye go. The cry of the 
poor, waxed great before God s face, calls for destruction, and it 
will not be put off. I see the chimneys reel, the hearth-stone shat 
tered, the churches hollow, and the rivers flowing red. Escape ? 
Ye can not ! Brimstone and fire shall mingle this night, and the 
smoke of the country go up as the smoke of a furnace ! " 

She ceased, as if still talking to herself. The dogs whined, and 
the men looked at each other. 

" She s crazy," said Lew Logan. 

"Come, leave her," spoke his brother Ben; "we are twenty 
miles from Harper s Ferry." 

They, went at a rapid walk up the gorge, followed by Atze 

A moment after they had disappeared from view, Hannah Rit- 


ner, resuming her natural tones, turned to the remaining persons 
and said : 

" You will be late at love-feast. I thought to go there with you. 
But I must take a long ride." 

As they were getting into the wagon, she went past on a nim 
ble-footed saddle-horse, dropping them a courteous farewell. 

" It seem* to me I have seen a horse like that before," Lloyd 
Quantrell thought; "she s mounted like a huntress." 



ALL made spasmodic remarks, with no great intelligibility of plan 
or reflection, on the foregoing scene the law to capture and return 
fugitive slaves having been in recent years established by Congress 
with the aid of all the great statesmen and the President of the United 
States, for the purpose of composing the country, which seemed, 
indeed, perfectly tranquil now, excepting many such agonizing epi 
sodes as that just given, but which it was thought unpatriotic and 
disturbing to describe or discuss. 

" What was your fortune, Katy ? " Lloyd asked as they came to 
the top of a hill and saw before them a bounding prospect of fields 
uptilted, and woods in plumes and crowns, giving every well-plowed 
farm a human look, like hair worn strong, yet comely. 

" Hush, Lloyd ! " Katy said, " it was not good ; so let me be still 
and think of the Lord s supper till we come to church." 

" Yonder is Beaver Creek Bunker meeting-house," Nelly Har- 
baugh spoke to Lloyd, indicating nearly two miles away a low 
white building like a long school-house half sunken behind a moundy 
brown hill, and defined against a higher crest of green. At the 
foot of the hills they descended, woods and notches in the bottoms 
were signs of a stream there, and the far eastern horizon rose up 
like a mighty rampart as if it were an ocean s confines. 

"That is the Antietam country," Luther exclaimed, "and 
Peaver Creek is a part of it. Our mother, Nelly, was from Antie 
tam, put she loved Peaver Creek pecause she met father there one 
love-feast week. Tey slept in te garret of te church, as us Tun- 


kers do, and many a marriage, Nelly, comes out of tese homely ways 
we haf of living like te tisciples, watching with our Master, and 
eating of te Passover lamb." 

" Passover ! " exclaimed Lloyd ; " that s a Jew jubilee of some 
kind, I reckon ? " 

" Yes, and all te early Christians were Jews. When te Lord 
slew te first-born of all te Egyptians, te Jews in Egypt killed a 
lamb and marked teir doors, so te angel of death would see te 
lamb s plood-mark and go past. Tey always eat te Passover after 
ward, and so did te Christian Jews, and so do we. Tunkers and 
Moravians, I pelieve, is all that does it now. Te sacrament is not 
te love-feast, put te Lord s supper. We keep te feast ; we kill a 
lamb, and Jew and Catholic is welcome. We don t drive te hun 
gry away like Saint Paul ; for it can t pe any harm in peing hun 

" Ah ! Luther, "Lloyd exclaimed, "Judas was at the last supper, 
and got the sop above all the others. Money was what ailed him. 
Are not you good Dutch fond of money ? " 

" Luther worships it," Nelly Harbaugh exclaimed, patting her 
lover on the back. "He and his father want to be rich and noth 
ing else. If I was rich I would want more than that : education, 
admiration, and splendor. But I can make Luther love them, too, 
and bring them to me." 

" Money," Luther reflected aloud, " is te convenient result of in 
dustry and care. Whatever else we want, money fetches it. We 
Dutch puys land with it for our children." 

Nelly blushed as he looked at her. 

"Her first blush," Lloyd Ouantrell thought, "since I have seen 
her. Then she loves that man ! She will not blush for me." 

"We can not spend our money, Lloyd," Luther continued, "if 
we keep diligent, pecause we have no fashions. Our clothes is te 
same from year to year. We do not take usury, so we do not take 
risks, and we do not go to law to maintain corrupting lawyers who 
create quarrels ; Tunkers never sue one another. Te man who 
cheats, cheats only himself. We never fight, nor swear, nor shave 
our peards ; so we require no barbers. Our women work and do 
not strain the men for their luxury. Children are plenty here, and 
we puy more land for tern. Education is good if it does not make 
people saucy and tisputatious and lazy ; occupation is te only thing 
that peats education. Te world has plenty if people live simple 


and love their neighbor, who is their fellow-man. That was a fel 
low-man tey carried back to slavery. No good can come of it." 

Lloyd Quantrell had prejudices the stronger for his superficial 
good-humor, and he flushed as quickly as he spoke : 

" You Dutch and Yankees for I reckon you re the same breed 
declare war on interest and property till you get some of it. I 
can say that from some experience," Lloyd remarked apologetically, 
for Katy had raised her large eyes at his suppressed tones, " because 
my father was a Yankee, and once had your ideas, but shaving 
notes and leasing my niggers are now his chief interests." 

" You must be rich," Nelly Harbaugh exclaimed. " Have you 
got slaves, too ? " 

" Yes," said Lloyd, " fifty slaves, worth to-day thirty-five thousand 
dollars. That is, my father is my trustee for them. My mother 
left me her slaves. My father leases them in Charles County." 

" Has your father slaves also ? " Luther Bosler asked. 

" No. He took my mother s land and personal property. The 
slaves are more salable. I suspect he took the less advantageous 
property because he had prejudices like yours, Luther." 

Nelly Harbaugh stared at Lloyd with all her might, hearing he 
was so rich. 

" Katy," she cried, with a breath from her fine aquiline nose, 
"your lover is the richest man you ever saw. Now make him 
marry you ! " 

This time the blush was Lloyd s. He glanced at Katy, whose 
face was turned toward her lap, and she, looking up, now showed 
her eyes all wet with tears. 

" Darling," cried Lloyd, " Nelly has hurt your feelings. You do 
not love me for my money." 

"Oh!" Katy murmured through her sobs, " der auram mon 
hut koe kaimat." 

" What does she say ? " Lloyd asked of Nelly, drawing Katy s 
head into his hands. 

" She says, That poor man has no home. I guess she s think 
ing of that lazy, runaway slave." 

" We can go to the feast," Katy sobbed convulsively, " to the 
Lord s feast. He must go back and be whipped. Ich con sell net 

" If he can stand it, you can, Kate," Nelly Harbaugh answered, 
gayiy. " Lloyd has fifty slaves, he says. Did you hear that ? " 


" I wish," said Katy, " that he was poor. It s selfish, but I do. 
For now I see that the fortune-teller s verse is coming true." 

" What was it, my gentle dove ? " whispered Lloyd. 

" I nefer saw so many doves, I think, as this morning," Luther 
Bosler remarked, overhearing the word. " See them flying down the 
pike before us ! " 

They all looked out, and behold ! the doves were in the stony 
road, trotting across it or perching on the worm-fence rails at the 
sides, or flying like little living windmills straight before, picking 
sustenance in the grass, tame and trusting, coy and fluttered, and 
seeming to wonder why the dog Albion chased them so fiercely, 
while his companion, Fritz, kept demurely at the wagon s tail as if 
Fritz also had religious inclinations as he drew near church. 

" Wild pigeons come by millions on the high Alleghany Mount 
ains," Lloyd exclaimed. "These ring, and ground, and turtle 
doves are plentiful. They can t sing, and yet that fortune-teller 
thought so, for she ignorantly said to me : 

When them killest everything, 
Still the turtle-dove will sing. 

"Nonsense!" concluded Lloyd Quantrell, still looking at the flying 
doves with queer feelings at his heart. 

"Here is Peaver Creek mills," Luther remarked, "where te 
Tunkers paptizes." 

A large stone mill with low door and hoisting-gear in the gable 
stood on the right, and beyond it was a mill-pond falling across a 
stone dam, and bordered by thick willows and tall sycamores, and 
in the running waste below the dam were islets, over one of which 
a noble water-oak spread its branches. 

Beyond the creek a large stone house and some barns clung be 
tween the water and the hill, and on the left of the road, by a store 
and post-office, were a few other limestone dwellings and barns, 
giving the hidden hamlet that picturesqueness and mystic social 
drone in which old mills resemble old matrons with their spinning- 
wheels and family brood. 

People were seen going to other churches off on the right in 
smart spring wagons or finer market carryalls. 

Luther let down his bridle-reins and gave the lines to Nelly, who 
drove the horses into the creek to drink while he crossed by a foot- 
log. As the horses took their fill gratefully, the old mill seemed to 


sleep and snore ; two kingfishers flashed over the mirror of the dam 
without a cry, and both dogs also drank, while still the gray and 
brown doves fed along the road as tame as chickens. 

" Going to the Antietam ? " Lloyd mused aloud, looking at the 
clear water. " That is a stream of which I never heard. How 
destitute is our country of history ! " 

Luther climbed in as Nelly drove the horses through Beaver 
Creek, hub deep, and the Sabbath doves again led the way along 
toward the Dunker church, while in the fields were silent birds with 
green wings and scarlet heads, peeping up to see, and dropping into 
the blue clover again. 

The church soon rose out of the ground, its limestone walls al 
most as white as marble, and the people and carriages and riding- 
horses were seen around it, and the graveyard appeared beyond 
with its delicate white tombstones in the grass. 

Coming nearer, a large, open, grassy space or common bordered 
the road, and here Luther turned in, the low gable of the church 
extending toward them its end door and semicircular white window 
above. It stood a hundred rods back upon a little plateau, the 
slopes of which were covered with small fruit-trees and a garden, 
and below the garden was the graveyard. A fence and gate 
divided the church from the common, and near the gate were hitch- 
ing-racks, a shed, and water-trough. 

Luther drove to the rack and tied his horses. A hundred or more 
worldly looking rustics saw the Dunker family descend and pass 
through the open gate, and gazed at Lloyd Quantrell s tall, city-clad 
figure with surprise, hardly dissembled by politeness. 

Nelly Harbaugh, gathering up her hoops and flounces, spoke to 
several of these intruders as she passed through them. Little Katy, 
with her eyes to the ground, took her brother s arm and passed in. 

The meeting-house was plain and long, and its low ceiling ad 
mitted no galleries. Wooden benches were stretched along its 
width, and faced that only side which had no door, while two aisles 
crossed each other at the middle of the church, entered by a door 
in each of the other three walls. 

The door opposite the gable was open, and looking there Lloyd 
saw, to his astonishment, a great fireplace and an immense cook- 
stove before it, and in the fireplace something was roasting from a 
crane and hooks, while the stove was nearly red-hot, and large pots 
were steaming upon it and emitting the savor of animal food. 


The kitchen door closed in a moment, and Lloyd looked in 
vain for the pulpit, but saw nothing resembling it, not even a plat 

A man came down a winding stairway in the corner of the 
church, and closed a cupboard door there behind him, and, pass 
ing to some naked tables at the blank side of the church, opened 
a little trap in the wall and took out a Bible and hymn-book. This 
man was dressed, like Jake Bosler and Luther, in a coat of dark 
drab color, or rather pepper-and-salt mixture, and vest and trousers 
of the same, the coat with tails to its square, jacket-like body, and 
the coat-collar standing up. 

As the man lined out a hymn in English, Luther Bosler took the 
front seat on one side of the preacher, beside his father and other 
Dunker men, and Katy took the front seat on the other side of the 
aisle among the women, and, slipping off her sun-bonnet, sat in her 
white night-cap, as it seemed to be, corresponding to the dress of 
her companions. 

Lloyd hesitated where to sit, till Nelly Harbaugh drew him into 
a long seat at right angles to the preacher and to Katy and to the 
congregation. Behind them was the cupboard door opening upon 
the garret stairs. 

" The church will be full of the family," Nelly whispered "they 
call the membership the family and there may be no room for 

The singing had already commenced, and Katy s child s voice 
and Luther s strong tenor were heard in the strain, and without 
further delay Lloyd Quantrell, catching the tune, also dropped his 
bass notes in, and Katy thrilled to hear the bold, manly music, going 
to her heart. 

The Dunker men and women turned their faces toward the 
church corner to see the brown-haired, broad -headed young man 
unaffectedly singing there, and then they looked at Katy, wonder 

Lloyd Quantrell was a large man, several inches more than six 
feet high, with a broad back, large hips, straight legs, and erect car 
riage. His hands and feet were large and strong, his neck was 
powerful ; his eyes were a greenish gray, very clear-sighted, with 
large dark centers, and he had jaws full of strong, white, clean 
teeth, almost too large for a gentleman. 

A boyish expression reduced the strength of his features, some 



of which, as his mouth and jaws and breadth of cheek-bones, were 
indicative of high animal quality, but his nose was thick at the 
bridge and more solid than sensitive ; his ears were too small for 
his face, and seemed to belong to a w r oman, and his forehead was a 
little beetling and rugged, as if things built their nests in it rather 
than bathed in a limpid brain near by. 

Flexibility was in that countenance, however, despite the might 
of the features, but it seemed to be gayety and want of care rather 
than want of strength, and at instants something like an idea, or a 
purpose, halted a minute in the eyes, suffused with mischief, and 
then passed on. 

Ready, joyous, mildly imaginative, voluptuous, nearly tender 
one feared, while Lloyd smiled, that some day he might think and 

He was now looking with a Marylander s patriotism at a kind of 
worship he had never before heard of. 

The preacher had prayed, and was saying something in broken 
English, and one by one the brethren first, and then the Dunker 
sisters, arose and passed by him and whispered, and he made for 
each a mark in a book. 

" What is it ? " Lloyd asked in a whisper. 

" They re making a preacher," whispered Nelly Harbaugh. 
" After love-feast they ll tell his name." * 

The window was open near Quantrell, and showed the Blue 
Ridge or South Mountain soft as a line of deep-green melons 
with some dull citron in their rind, lying along the horizon, but 
so near to the eye, it seemed as if they ripened on the window- 

So limpid was the air, so soft the mountain tints, Lloyd thought 
they were his morning thoughts reflected in the mirror of his con 
science, and softly impelled onward by his delighted heart ; yet, as 
he looked, shadows of clouds rippled those bars of mountain, like 
swans in lakes, and they seemed transparent and to reveal their 

He watched them as if they were his own body and limbs re 
flected there by the subtle medium of love, as it diffused from 
Katy s eyes. 

Tingling, warming, ebbing, flowing, he felt his blood quicken to 

* A Dunker love-feast generally occupies two or more week-days. For 
purposes of narration it is here condensed into a Sunday. 


the love he encouraged yet forbade, and the mountains stretching 
across the pastoral upland flushed, cooled, sparkled, darkened, and 
thrilled with his own feelings. 

He half closed his eyes and still more wondrous grew the illu 
sion that, while his heart was here in the meeting, his form was 
extended yonder, walling up the Catoctin Valley, and in a blessed 

He saw the mountains breathe and expand, as he drank in their 
air ; when he exhaled his breath, they seemed to fall like his own 
chest ; he rubbed his eyes and challenged them with a look, and 
then they seemed to dimple and smile like a child asleep, on whom 
its mother looks and looks too near, so that her breath wakes play 
fulness in its oblivion. 

" Why is everything so painfully distinct, so full of meaning and 
presentiment, so rapt, so haunted and so haunting ? " Lloyd asked 
himself. " Is it love ? I will not have it so, but so it is ! " 

The crowd outside the church increased in numbers and irrev 
erence. They were playing games upon the slope, " Puss in the 
Corner " and kissing-games like " Copenhagen," and now and then 
loud laughter, or the scream of some hoyden, broke the quiet tones 
of the preacher and the singing. 

Within the church nearly every seat was full of communicants : 
plain men in long, straight hair falling back upon their shoulders, 
and beards unshaved and unshorn except the mustache, which none 
wore ; women in well-fitting black frocks with a little cape sewed 
upon them, and small white caps, almost transparent, tied beneath 
the chin and showing the smooth hair combed within. 

Some of these women were comely to look upon, with skins of 
temperance and eyes of zest ; others were fat and dull, and merely 
amiable ; and others yet were old and wrinkled, and submissive, 
like women in whom beauty and life have ceased to strive, and God 
draws near as if he were no foe, but one as familiar in the house as 
once the baby had been in the cradle. 

Katy sat there conscious, repentant, seeking, listening to the 
words with submission, fluttered by worldly passions, ready to cry 
out with pain, tender with gratitude. 

Her beautiful head might have been the egg of the divine con 
ception, waiting eternally to be born into life and goodness. 

Her thick, dark hair left of her forehead only a narrow tablet, 
made whiter by the straight eyebrows ; and, poised below, like 


moons upon the sea, her eyes gave night and glory to every 

All the rest of her face seemed immature, but those great eyes to 
have been finished in her childhood, and, like large posies upon a 
slender stem, her delicate neck reached up to bear their weight. . Her 
form was still a child s, barely budded ; her sloping shoulders and 
long, thin arms, and apparent length above the waist, showed one 
still growing and aspiring to more stature. Her small white cap 
gave her the appearance of sitting up in bed. Lloyd saw her hymn- 
book in her hand, and thought of her belief in witches, strong as her 
faith in God ; and his brain framed the words : 

" The dear little Dutch darling ! " 

Turning to Nelly Harbaugh, he beheld a finer woman in every 
thing but sensibility, to whose eagle strength Katy continued the 
similitude of the dove. 

Nelly had a Roman nose, giving masculinity to her face, a nose 
which a man might have envied, so finely cut it was, and so like 
leadership. Beneath it was an upper lip of almost equal strength, 
and the blue eyes and heavy arched eyebrows equally became a 
resolute, ambitious man s face. But the lower lip and chin, how 
ever heroically modeled the chin square took the softness of 
maidenhood. The eyes also looked longing, as for love. 

Her form was strong, her shoulders could bear burdens, her 
yellow hair was magnificent ; in her rude flowers and bright print 
dress some of the style of her fine natural carriage was conveyed. 
The hand in her lap was large but fine, and the arm beside it, which 
Lloyd drew into his own, was modeled handsomely, and hard like ivory. 

" Don t ! " Nelly whispered, "you sly, rich man. They re going 
to make the preacher now." 

There was already a commotion of some kind about the front of 
the congregation, and new arrivals pouring in forced the mere spec 
tators from their benches, and, their places being demanded, Lloyd 
opened the stairway door, and he and Nelly went up a few steps 
and could see over the heads of all. 

" My Lord ! " Nelly Harbaugh whispered, " Luther is the new 
preacher ! " 

The elder minister or Bishop was standing by Luther Bosler, and 
little Katy was between them. The minister shook Katy s hand, 
and, putting his arm around Luther s neck, deliberately kissed him 
upon the bearded mouth. 


Lloyd Quantrell pulled the door nearly fast, to hide his involun 
tary laughter. 

"Don t mock us!" Nelly Harbaugh said, with a look of pain. 
" I shall have to stand there with him when we are married, and 
promise to do his work while he keeps the church together. They 
don t often make single men preachers. Katy takes my place to 

Opening the door, Lloyd saw a procession of the members, one 
by one rising and going toward the altar-space, and there each man 
kissed Luther Bosler, each woman kissed Katy Bosler, the women 
shook Luther s hand, the men shook Katy s hand, and so they passed 
on, till Jake Bosler s turn came, and he fastened his wild, hairy face 
to his son s mouth and rich dark beard, and coming away full of 
tears and emotion, was heard to articulate : 

" Luter Himmel mootter Bi m-by ! 

Lloyd had to laugh again, and pulled the door upon his delight, 
never having seen in his life one man kiss another. 

" Excuse me, Nelly," he sighed between his spasms of laughter, 
"but this grizzly-bear kissing really beats the Dutch ! " 

" You must kiss men, too," Nelly said, " when you become a 
Dunker. Oh, Katy will make you one ! She never gives up any 

This increased Lloyd s laughter. When he again widened the 
aperture, Luther Bosler was standing alone, and the brethren and 
sisters were in prayer. As they rose and burst into singing, the 
young Baltimorean again contributed his melodious voice, and Katy 
stole a glance to see her lover, as far in piety as music would ad 
vance him, singing straight toward her humble heart. 

"Oh," thought Katy, " if he could only know how religion makes 
us love ! He will love the world till God brings him to me." 

She heard her brother commence to speak, and something al 
most like pride started in her mind, that she had a brother great and 
wise enough to be a minister. 

Lloyd Quantrell also heard, in spite of the silly laughter and in 
terruptions through the church-windows, the manly tones of Katy s 
brother, reading from the Bible the epistle old Saint Paul dispatched 
to them under the golden cornices of Corinth, in the day when, like a 
carrier-bird, the Christian carried the straw from the manger to build 
a nest in the acanthus capitals of the temple columns of the pagan 


With a slightly reproving look at the careless crowd without, 
Luther read : 

" One is hungry and another is drunken. What ! have ye not 
houses to eat and to drink in ? Despise ye the church of God? 

" As often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do shew 
the Lord s death till he come. 

" Whosoever shall eat and drink unworthily shall be guilty of 
the body and blood of the Lord. 

" Wherefore, my brethren, when ye come together to eat, tarry 
one for another. 

" / would have ye know that the head of every man is Christ ; 
and the head of the woman is the man." 

Luther turned from the word and began to speak, plainly, slowly, 

He told of the long struggle to extricate the Christian life from 
the pomp of ecclesiasticism and the caprices of theologians, and find 
in it the example of the disciples. 

Princes and armies surrounded the Lutherans and kept them 
worldly ; the Calvinists imitated their enemies, and wanted rebellion 
and conquest. Some found comfort in an intellectual formula like 
"justification by faith," or "the republic of the saints." 

A few simple men like Menno and Landis, some of them Catho 
lic priests, some students by prayer of the four Evangelists, resisted 
all conformity and formality, clinging to the holy life of the Son of 

Like a little thread from the land of Palestine trailing to the 
Alpine valleys, where the Waldenses lived in brotherhood, and 
thence to the springs of the Rhine and Danube, the tradition of the 
simple truth preceded the worldly Reformation which was irritated 
by its perseverance. 

The spirit of St. Peter with the sword, the spirit of St. Paul with 
his dogma, resented the quiet faith of St. James, who was baptized 
again, and mirrored his brother Jesus in his calm heart. 

Burned alive, banished, forbidden sepulture, exposed in cages to 
starve, torn between contending armies, the Baptist brethren, Swiss, 
Dutch, or German, bided their time till William Penn, at the end of 
one hundred and fifty years, heard of them, and opened the New 
W T orld to those faithful sheep. 

Non-resistants, submissionists, with an unpaid clergy, without 
other doctrine than what Christ did, they preserved in their West- 


ern vales the brotherhood of the disciples not faith, not chiefly 
hope, but greatest of them all, love, which could die, but could not 

A tender intelligence and conviction spread from Luther s tones 
and eyes, and Lloyd forgot his uncouth dress and shaggy hair. 

Luther was animated, by his engagement to Nelly, to dwell upon 
the family rest, where, at the table, every day, sat the almost visible 
Christ, saying, " Abide with me." 

Quantrell turned to Nelly, and her eyes were wet with tears. 



A SUDDEN rising of the congregation, and clearing of certain 
benches, pressed the Bunker people back upon the spectators, and 
again the twain withdrew into the staircase, and this time they 
passed into the loft. It was lighted by the round window in the 
end, and, looking down into the yard, they saw the parasites of the 
love-feast eating bread, and meat, and pickles, and sweet things, as 
they came in procession from the kitchen door. 

The loft was divided by pine planks across the middle, and the 
men s side, which they were in, was strewn with clean straw and 
some straw mattresses, for the lodgers at the love-feast. 

" It will be full," Nelly said. " The Bunkers love to imagine 
themselves the disciples living together, like the Christian family. 
How can I ever be good enough for such a life ? " 

She seemed in real penitence and awe, and it occurred to Lloyd 
Quantrell to test the depth of her feeling. He took her hand and 
drew her to him, and in the low garret passed his arm around 

" Bo you love this obscure preacher," he asked, "so much that, 
if I were to tell you I admired you, you would refuse for him Bal 
timore ? " 

Her eyes shone, and next they flashed. She pushed him away. 

" Bo not deceive yourself, Lloyd," she said, with dignity. " You 
can not deceive me. Katy is your passion. If she were not, I 
would prefer Luther Bosler to you." 


" You are complimentary, queen ! " 

" You are rich, I suppose, but you have no ambition. He has 
to be a good man. That is better than being a play-boy. Oh, how 
I love that man ! " Nelly exclaimed, bursting into tears. 

" Forgive me ! " Lloyd spoke, in an impulse of respect and re 
gret. " I had not given you credit for such feelings. Why do you 
cry ? " 

" Because I am so absolutely unworthy of him," answered the 
girl, permitting herself to be caressed. " He is peaceful and just ; I 
am full of restless things, and know that I am beautiful. Am L not, 
Lloyd ? " she asked, almost with eagerness, suddenly drying her 
tears. " You live in a great city : do I compare with the fine ladies 
there ? " 

" Few have such splendid style," Lloyd replied, slowly and with 
judgment. " But it is no place for you. Men who would marry 
you in Baltimore would not have the respect for you they do not 
possess the sober merits that Luther has." 

" What can I do ? " Nelly Harbaugh asked. " If I could make 
Luther an ambitious man, and turn his mind to the world, we might 
be made for each other. We are for each other. I love him with 
fear and rest. But out yonder " she pointed beyond the mountains 
" is a life that often calls me. I think I have talent as well as 

" Beware, Nelly," Lloyd spoke low and sagely ; " you heard what 
Luther read, The head of the woman is the man - 

" And the head of the man my man is Christ ; that con 
demns me to be buried in these mountains a Dunker preacher s 

" But you are poor and he is prosperous. He has been indul 
gent to you. He knows it will be hard to -reduce you to his image, 
but, in love, he takes the chance." 

The girl s face softened in all its bold and spirited outlines, and 
she seemed profoundly moved. 

" Why can t I feel religious ?" she asked. " Why won t I sub 
mit ? What makes me fear when I ought to be so happy ? Last night 
I would have married Andrew Atzerodt. To-day, engaged to the 
man I respect above all in the world, I want to tear him from his 
content and conscience." 

She threw herself upon one of the freshly filled beds, with her 
head in her hands. 


Her almost extravagant splendor of form, and straightness of 
neck, and spine, and limbs, and her length of tresses, in color like 
the straw, Lloyd Quantrell beheld, with rising dislike and dread of 
this woman continuing to be Katy s friend. 

* Sis," spoke Lloyd, with cool familiarity, " you must be what 
they call an adventuress. It means a woman who would rather fool 
many men than not cheat herself. Be honest with this honest fel 
low Luther, and quarrel with him to-day ! " 

Nelly Harbaugh started up, and the spark of temper in her brain 
gave passionate character to her countenance, which Lloyd admired 
without losing his coolness. 

" And you be honest with Luther s honest sister ! " the girl ex 
claimed. " Take your advice to yourself. God knows I love Lu 
ther Bosler, and always shall ! " 

Jake Bosler s head appeared above the stairs looking at them, 
both in ill temper now, and he said : 

" Nelly Lloyd love-feast Bi m-by ! " 

When they descended the wooden steps, the church had been 
darkened by closing all the shutters, and some tin lamps and can 
dlesticks gave, with their flame, the aspect of night to the curious 

Every third bench had been turned over and made into a table 
upon the other two. The front benches remained full of worship 
ers, and the kitchen door, wide open, disclosed some beams of day, 
and also a pantry of dishes and of jars, and the stove and fireplace 
with diminished heat. 

Through this door Dunker men were bringing white table-cloths, 
and piles of tin pans and plates, and iron spoons and knives and 
forks. All was clatter and decisive tread, yet with sobriety and re 

After the tables were ready, large tubs were brought in, steaming 
with broth, and meat and pickles and apple-butter were placed up 
and down the table, and bread, in slices and quarter loaves. 

Next two tubs were brought in and set one before the men and 
one before the women on the front line of benches. 

" What s coming now? " Lloyd Quantrell inquired. 

" The feet- washing," whispered Nelly Harbaugh. 

By this time the tables, covering much of the church space, were 
occupied everywhere with waiting rows of Dunker brethren and sis 
ters sitting neatly and by sexes. The dim light shone on the silver 


hairs of many, and here and there were sleeping babies at their 
mothers breasts. 

Suddenly the Dunker bishop began to read the story of the last 
supper, from St. John : 

" Jesus riseth from supper and laid aside his garments." 

At this two stalwart Bunkers arose and took off their coats, and 
two women arose on the women s side. 

" And he took a towel and girded himself." 

The attending Dunkers wrapped towels around their waists, and 
knelt by the tubs of clean water. 

" After that he poureth water into a basin, and began to wash 
the disciples feet and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he 
was girded. . . . Jesus said, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part 
with me. " 

The Dunker men and women on the front row were taking off 
their shoes and stockings. 

Jake Hosier s feet seemed to stray around everywhere as they 
were disclosed under the lamp-light. 

Little Katy s feet barely flashed a moment in the Dunker wom 
an s hands, and the sound of splashing water was heard. An in 
stant more, Lloyd saw the little girl s feet shine in the woman s 
towel as they were being wiped. 

Then the Dunker quadrant went on washing and wiping others, 
till their own turn came, when they submitted to be also bathed and 

The men kissed every man whose feet they washed ; the women 
kissed every woman after wiping her feet. 

A disposition to laugh was deterred by the solemn reading of 
the gospel at times in Luther s deliberate voice : 

" If I, then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye 
also ought to wash one another s feet. Now I have given you an 
example, that ye should do as I have done to you." 

" Is that in the Bible ? " Lloyd Quantrell asked himself. " Then 
perhaps these people are the only obedient disciples." 

The feet-washing ended with a hymn, and then the love-feast 

" Lloyd ! " a resonant voice called. It was Luther Bosler, unable 
to press his way to where they stood. 

" Come, sir," Nelly Harbaugh whispered, " or they will all be 
looking at us." 


Hardly aware why, Lloyd followed the girl, for whom Katy had 
kept a seat beside herself. 

"You sit over here, Lloyd; Katy wants you to do so," Luther 
Bosler spoke, showing Quantrell a place among the Bunker men. 

These with kind countenances seemed to welcome him. In a 
minute the tin plates down the table were filled with hot mutton 
broth, and a man handed Lloyd a spoon and motioned to the full 
plate before him. 

As the young man put his spoon into it, three other Dunker men 
did the same, all eating from the same dish. 

With difficulty Lloyd refrained from choking himself with the 
savory mouthful, such laughter shook his stomach. 

" By George ! some Dutchman will kiss me next," Lloyd thought, 
" and then I must either laugh out, or hit him." 

But the broth was good, and the four men continued to eat to 
gether ; and one Dunker gave Lloyd some pickles, another handed 
him a slice of bread spread with meat and apple- butter, and a third 
pushed over a cup of coffee. 

Quantrell adapted himself to the strange conditions easily, ob 
serving that all over the church, by fours, the men and women were 
eating ; and he now remembered that it was at such primitive feast 
ing when Christ had spoken to "one leaning on his bosom," saying, 
" He shall betray me to whom I shall give a sop when I have 
dipped it." 

Quantrell had hardly thought of this, when a voice in broken 
English rang through the church : 

" And after te sop, Satan entered into him. Den said Jesus, 
Dat tou doest, do quickly ! And Judas had te bag. He den, hav 
ing received te sop, went immediately out, and it was night." 

A sudden, strange fear fell upon the young hunter. 

He wondered if this did not describe himself, who carried the 
game-bag, and had no right part in this solemn feast before the 
crucifixion of his Lord ! 

Old legends learned in the Catholic college, old ghosts and mira 
cles and coincidences, came back to his mind. The dim candles 
and lamps seemed to be the same which shone upon the Last Sup 
per, and these long-bearded, simple men were the real disciples, and 
yonder women were the friends of the Madonna and her gifted boy. 

" Where, then, is Christ ? " Lloyd Quantrell asked himself in 
scarce admitted awe "the Christ I shall betray?" 


He looked up, almost expecting to see the halo-lighted face and 
searching eyes. 

The nearest to them in beauty and pity and glory, were those of 
Katy Bosler, looking at him ! 

A hymn was now lined out, as the love-feast was done, and 
some one handed Lloyd a great hymn-book in the old German lan 
guage. He looked at the title with astonishment, as the translation 
had been penciled beneath the old black German text : 

" The song of the solitary and abandoned Turtle-Dove." 

He wondered if he could be dreaming. 

No ; the words were really there, and the date and printing-place 
of the book : 

"EPHRATA, PENNA., 1747." 

" Here, Lloyd," the voice of Luther Bosler said again, " Katy 
wants you at the communion ! " 

He found himself sitting on the front bench among the Dunker 
men. A cup was in his hand filled with grape-wine, strong and 
sweet, and in the other hand was a cake of curious bread. On each 
side of him the Dunker men sat with the very expressions he had 
seen in old engravings of the Lord s Supper. 

" I haf desired to eat tis passover with you," spoke the resonant 
voice again, " pefore I suffer. ... Dis is my pody which is gifen 
for you. . . . Dis cup is te New Testament in my plood, to pe shed 
for you. . . . Pehold ! te hand of him dat petrayeth me, is with me 
on dis table ! " 

Lloyd gazed up again. It seemed to be Katy s illuminated eyes 
which had spoken. 

He drank the wine, and the bread stuck in his throat. 

Slowly there rose upon his mind a feeling of religious consecra 

He had been called to the Lord s Supper like other fishermen of 
old, and had dared to drink the blood of the Virgin and the divine 
Father, whose love had overshadowed her. This day he had taken 
part in the crucifixion of his Lord. 

He thought his mother might be here, who had so fervently be 
lieved all this mystery, and dedicated him to Heaven with her dying 
breath. He looked among the women to see if one like her might 
not be happy now, in the wondrous accident of his coming to this 
supper and eating with these humble Christians. 


Katy was all he saw, but the Dunker bishop was reading : 

" Lord, why can not I follow thee now ? I will lay down my 
life for thy sake ! 

A sense of wishing to be a nobler, gentler man, followed the 
words, in the young man s heart. 

" Verily, verily," continued the bishop, " the cock shall not crow 
till thou hast denied me ! " 

The cock did not crow, but a loud bark disturbed the wor 

It was Hosier s dog, Fritz, standing in the kitchen door of the 
church and barking for some one. 

Lloyd s foot touched something soft. 

Crouched at his feet, whither Albion had stealthily insinuated 
himself, that dog was lying and looking into Lloyd s face with an 
unsocial discontent. 

The moment s serious feelings passed from the young man s 

Lloyd rose and motioned his dog to leave the church, and led 
the way. 

The Bunkers had commenced to pray, and did not look up to 
see him go. 

Mingling with the idle spectators in the church-yard, who had 
been fed like friends of the members, Lloyd fed the two dogs, and 
looked at his own with some dislike. 

This dog was of full English pointer blood and valuable. Lloyd 
Quantrell s father, in a moment of unexpected generosity at the club, 
had allowed five hundred dollars to an English gentleman for his 
dog, said English gentleman having lost to Mr. Abel Quantrell one 
thousand pounds in a night s encounter at draw-poker, and there 
fore having no further use for the dog, which he had brought over 
to assist him in killing a vast vision of American game. 

He had gone to the club, met Mr. Quantrell and party, liked 
their terrapin and wine, and, after an introduction to the pleasures 
of the city, relapsed to his normal love of game, and particularly 
of this rapid, bantering, bluffing, mettlesome American institution 
which had been till recently unknown east of Kentucky. 

With a full knowledge of the game of poker, and but little of 
plover and partridge, the young man had obeyed a letter of instruc 
tions from his father in answer to his own for a further remittance 
by taking passage for Liverpool, leaving no lasting recollections 


of himself in Baltimore except this blooded pointer, which, in his 
honor, was called Albion. 

Albion was trim-built like all the pointer class, and, except for 
his speed and activity, would have been a dandy among dogs. But 
his strength of loins and hips, and the powerful curve of his hind 
legs, and a certain blunt strength of neck as it solidly joined the 
more delicate head, indicated him further as a pugilist dandy, such 
as were not uncommon in those days, in Baltimore. 

Withal, he was more alert than bold, and had his insinuating side. 

Looking into his hazel, yellow eyes, soft yet with flame, as in the 
Kentucky beauty, their pupils almost black like deep wells in am 
ber, one said, " What depth of sensibility ! " 

But closely watched, a sly, possibly sneaking management of 
those beautiful eyes, arrested the critical student. They did not like 
close watching, and would languidly close as if just dropping away 
to doze, but would open half-way and peep, and, if the spectator 
turned his head, would be found wide open, taking an inventory and 
laying away gossip. 

Again, the high blood and careful inbreeding of Albion, though 
expressed in his warm head-colors and almost dainty white skin, 
could, in the observer s skeptical mood, be spotted with a certain 

Superficially he was a beautiful white animal, with a small, deli 
cate, lemon-colored bar on the back, and a head where the dark- 
brown hanging ear, like a loop of lady s hair, fell from reddish, 
deer-colored brows, whose warm tint extended around the eyes and 
to the top of the brain, and back a little way on the neck, opening 
to let a streak of white, with a diamond form between the brows, 
go down the profile and cover all the muzzle except the brown kid 
nose, so sensitive, familiar, yet precise, as if it were the organ of 
fastidious taste, and found sublimated odor in a lady s palm. 

But that white muzzle was spotted with a dirty gray, as if ob 
scurer tastes in the animal had led it to eat the bird it betrayed to 
the gunner. 

Spots less objectionable, yet spots, like freckles on a gentleman, 
went all over the white back and flanks, slight yet visible to exami 

His flews just overhung the mouth without dropping, as in the 
lips of a man with no unclean habit except a mouth full of tobacco- 


And as for Albion s tail, it was like a cart-whip well flogged out, 
beginning as if it were meant to be grasped by a large hand, then 
dropping off to a mere string. It was still his courageous part, and, 
although his eyes looked mild and delicate, when another dog came 
along his tail would go out and up, like a wasp s sting, and, if that 
was not alarming enough, he would stiffen his back, lift his jowls, 
and show his row of grinders. Yet often he would affect sleep till 
the dog had passed. 

He spared no birds, but seldom took up a challenge even from a 
terrier. It was generally remarked that he had a delicate barrel of 
a muzzle, and an intellectual, literary contour, but often it looked hol 
low as an exquisite s in consumption. 

These defects in a valuable animal could have occurred to only 
censorious people. Almost everybody beheld the finest pointer in 
Maryland, soft yet with dignity, like a mistress, but a king s one. 

At this moment his raveled ear, still raw and bloody, made the 
dog feverish and snappish. 

"I have heard," thought Ouantrell, "of the devil taking the 
form of a dog, and I begin to be afraid of mine." 

Jake Bosler, when the congregation was dismissed, introduced 
Lloyd to many of the Dunker men, all of whom seemed to be neigh 
borly and cordial, and asked Lloyd to come to see them. 

Luther had received an order to attend some Dunker conference 
at another church such a considerable distance off, that he requested 
his party to get at once into the dearborn, and Jake Bosler took 
Lloyd by the hand, and saying 

"Coom twict coom, Lloyd Bi m-by " Jake executed the 
Dunker kiss upon the blushing Baltimorean. 

They drove away to the south by a cross-road, and getting on 
the great National road, turned off to the west and crossed the An- 
tietam Creek at a mill-town, by a bridge of such unconsciously beau 
tiful stone arches that it seemed never to have been made by man, 
but to have condensed from the limestone mists, in the forms of 
those old mill-wheels which stirred the sluggish current. 

Between sycamores and willows the green Antietam, like a veil, 
went winding among the corn-clad hills, and, at a cross-lane beyond 
it, Luther turned up a scarcely trodden track where ledges of lime 
stone cropped out here and there and crumbled into clover. 

Passing through some corn-fields whose long barrels and plumes 
were stacked in rusty lines, they saw at the side of another turnpike- 


road in a beautiful woods of hickory, oak, and chestnut, a square, 
chunky brick church with a steep roof. The clean, park-like woods 
revealed the limestone strata in parallel lines, and separate rocks 
and bowlders strewn about ; and here, descending, Katy spread the 
lunch from her basket. 

Nelly Harbaugh was very attentive to Luther, and when he 
went into the Dunker church she begged to go with him also. 

"I am afraid to let you leave me an hour," sighed the girl; 
there is such comfort, Luther, in being with you." 

Then Lloyd and Katy strolled to a neighboring burial-ground, 
and, sitting there in sight of the mountains, felt all the tender joys 
of love compressed and ardent. 

He told her all about himself, his temptations and his needs, the 
instincts for a purer life within him and the consolation of this great 
round day, hastening to its eve the first eventful one in all his life. 

" Lloyd," said Katy, " I feel all you say, too. But it is danger 
ous for a poor girl to trust a man like you. I haf been thinking 
about it, and I haf been warned." 

" Katy," said Lloyd, "you have kept a secret from me. What 
evil thing did that fortune-teller say ? " 

"Here it is," answered Katy, "in English. I can make poetry 
a little." 

" Read it, you timid little goose ! " 

Katy read, between shyness and a shudder, these lines : 

" In this hand I see a ring : 
Thou shalt lose it, pretty thing ! 
Wading for it down a brook, 
Thou shalt find it by a book." 

" What do you make of it, Katy ? " Lloyd asked. 

" Some one will try to deceive me." 

" I never will, my darling ! " 

" Do you mean to marry me, perhaps ? " asked Katy, rallying all 
her courage to her eyes. 

" Yes. I have my father s consent to get. He is a Catholic. 
But I will engage myself this day to make you my wife. Give me 
your dear little hand ! " 

She placed it in his with the excitement of delight and fear. He 
slipped a ring upon her ringer which he had worn upon his watch- 


" Katy," said he, " that was my mother s mourning and wedding 
ring ; her father, the foremost gentleman in Maryland, left it to her 
by his will. Take it with this kiss, and promise to be my wife." 

"Whenefer you ask me, Lloyd," the girl replied with eyes 
gemmed with bright tears. " You haf taken of Christ s sacrament 
with me this day, and your heart is clean. We are near my moth 
er s grave, who went to Antietam church." 

He kissed her as purely as the fond young heart in passion can 
intend, and then, opening her basket, she brought out her accordion. 

" I had nothing else I loved so much as this," said Katy, "and I 
fetched it to gif you. When you play it you will, I hope, think of 
me ; for when you are gone, I can play it no more." 

He felt the tears come to his own eyes as he touched the keys 
and valves, and played a little love-tune in the fields of Antietam. 

" What s that ? " Quantrell asked, when he had finished. 

" Some other music, somewhere," Katy replied. " May pe it s on 
te canal ; for te Potomac River is pack yonder through te woods." 

" I thought I heard a drum and fife in the corn-field yonder," 
Lloyd spoke. 

" I thought I heard soldiers music too," Katy whispered. " Te 
dog hears it, Lloyd." 

The big gray mastiff stood with his ears up. Albion was fairly 
gamboling, as if he danced to the mystic instruments. 

The sound, if it were not the insects in the trees or cro^s, died 
away, and only the Dunkers were heard singing in their lowly 

" Lloyd," Katy murmured, " let us go stand at mother s grave 
and say te Words." 


A SMALL town of limestone, log, and painted brick houses, with 
a sunny square in the middle, was near the Bunker church, and as 
Luther and Lloyd rode the uncoupled horses into an arched spring 
of water which gushed from the ground close by, a person came to 
ask them if they could deliver a letter on one of the mountain roads. 

" It s to a Mr. Isaac Smith, who rents our farm there," said the 


8 9 

letter-bearer. " We want him to send our cow up here to Sharps- 

" I don t go that road," Luther replied. " My horses will pe tired, 
and I shall cross te mountain at Crampton s Gap." 

"I ll take the letter," Lloyd exclaimed, " for I shall leave you, 
Luther, at the road this side the mountain, and walk down to Har 
per s Ferry. I know Isaac Smith very well." 

They crossed the Antietam by another blue-stone bridge of arches, 
hidden under the hills, and late in the afternoon reached a wild road 
which ran parallel with the Blue Ridge. 

" I must save my horses, Lloyd, or I would trife you to te Ferry ; 
put tey must plow pefore sunrise. Let me gif you a Tunker brother s 
kiss pefore you go." 

Again the bearded mouth of Luther met Lloyd s nearly hairless 
lips. Nelly Harbaugh said : " Lloyd, we are friends : I forgive you, 
and shall disappoint your fears of me." Little Katy received the 
last kiss, and again the tears shone in her large eyes as Lloyd said, 
" I won t go home, my darling, till I see you again." 

He stood waving his hat till the rattle of the disappearing wagon 
turned into that sound he had heard by the Antietam church of a 
fife and a drum, in the distance, toward Crampton s Gap. 

" These mountains are haunted everywhere," Lloyd Ouantrell 
said, and turned down the stony road. 

He had not walked far before his dog became suspicious and, 
growling, ran into the dogwood and alder brush. A woman on a 
single- footed racker came toward him, rapidly riding, and, glancing 
at him, reined her horse without stopping and pointed across the 

" Yonder is your way to-night, Lloyd Ouantrell," she cried" to 
the Catoctin Valley. This road is rough and dangerous, and spirits 
are abroad upon it after dark." 

" Let the spirits come, Mother Ritner ! I have a dog and a gun, 
and have eaten the sacrament to-day." 

"You will find that to-night," exclaimed the woman, "which 
will change your destiny ! " 

She was gone in a cloud of dust, and the sun, now sinking below 
the North Mountain, left a cool shadow on the Blue Ridge like bil 
lows on a sea. Lloyd walked rapidly, whistling for his dog, and 
when Albion reappeared the big mastiff Fritz was in his company. 
He stamped for Bosler s dog to go back, but the influence of the 


pointer was still greatest, and both dogs bounded down the road to 
the south and were soon out of sight. 

" Dear little Katy ! " exclaimed the traveler " to give me her 
accordion and forget it was so heavy ! I have more money, too, than 
it is safe to travel with five hundred dollars and Harper s Ferry 
has hard people in it Poles, Dutch, Jews, Scotch, the scum of the 
earth ! " 

He reflected that this day had made him softer toward one 
Dutch family. 

" Heigh-ho ! " continued Quantrell, " we know not what a day 
may bring forth. I told my father, who called me a rowdy before 
I left Baltimore, that I would marry any wife he would recommend. 
I hope he hasn t taken me at my word, but he is quick on the trig 
ger. Let me see ! " 

He looked at his watch; and remembered that a train went 
through Harper s Ferry to Baltimore after midnight. 

" I will stay up for that train," said Lloyd, " and go and tell my 
father I am caught and engaged. He believes in love-matches, he 
once told me, and my mother never thought she had his real heart, 
though he was kind to her. No, I must not waste a single day, for, 
next to Katy s affection, I want my father s." 

The road seemed to get a peculiar, reflected light from the 
higher Elk Mountain as it kept well up on the lesser range, and every 
object dwelt in as much distinctness as the evening cow-bells made 
distinctest music ; yet everything startled the heart a little, while 
keeping it in a sunset tone of ecstasy. 

The log-houses grew small and seldom, and the stony farms 
were dry. Sometimes small pines darkened the way, and made 
Lloyd, as he entered their defile, keep his gun cocked. 

" I can t be far from Isaac Smith s," he thought. " If it s not 
the next clearing, I will get rid of this accordion, for my arm is sore, 
carrying the rough-shaped thing." 

It was not the next clearing, nor the next, and he was resolved 
to hide the accordion somewhere or throw it away. Katy, he con 
sidered, would not miss it, or would take a better one for it. Dark 
ness was settling upon the twilight, and he was thirsty for water. 

The sound of a flowing stream soon tinkled in the cool evening. 
Lloyd knelt to drink of a blackish branch which crossed the road. 
As he arose, a voice, from the dusk somewhere, cried : 

" Halt ! " 


" Isaac Smith s house is it far? " Lloyd cocked his gun as he 

"Yar it is," answered the voice, not very welcoming, nor yet 

" Thank St. Paul ! " exclaimed the gunner, dropping his caution. 
" If you had said 4 No, I should have thrown poor Katy s accordion 
away. Now I can leave it here." 

He stepped forward and saw a colored man standing in a kind 
of lane, and exclaimed : 

" Ashby ! who set you free ? " 

" I don t know," answered the negro the same who had been 
carried back to slavery that morning from Smoketown ; " somebody 
did it. Them yer ! " He indicated, with a shining something in his 
hand, a sign of habitation up the lane. 

" What s this ? " Lloyd asked. " A spear ? No, I see ; it s 
Smith s fishing-gig. W T hat are you doing with it, after dark? Rob 
bing Smith ? " 

" No," answered the negro, confused and uncertain. "I sesot 
yer. I don t know what fur. If you know them yer, I s posen 
you kin go in." 

Lloyd s attention was now called to the dogs reappearing and 
lapping of the brook. As he called them to him, Albion snarled at 
the negro, who awkwardly brought his singular weapon down to 
defend himself. 

" Search on ! " commanded the gunner, and Fritz led the way up 
the lane. 

The moon and stars came out from some lowering clouds as he 
advanced, and showed upon a low ridge before him some scattered 
buildings, and he stopped upon a small bridge in the lane to listen 
to some human sounds he heard. The stream under his feet ran 
from an old log spring-house in a kind of bottom or hollow, and a 
torch moved under some oaks at this spring ; and a torch, likewise, 
on the crest of the field, shone upon some forms of men around a 
little house. A metallic voice Lloyd was not unfamiliar with was 
speaking, and the stranger caught only these words : 

" If it is necessary to take life in order to save your own, then 
make sure work of it. ... And look to no dissolution of the Union, 
but simply to amendment and repeal ; and our flag shall be the same 
that our fathers fought under in the Revolution ! " 

" Why, that s dear old Smith s voice ! " exclaimed Lloyd. " Still 


crazy on the subject of the Revolutionary War! I m glad he s 

He continued up the rough, stony lane nearly to some low barns, 
and, turning in at the top, entered a little yard, in which were fruit- 
trees. A small log-house was built against the hill-side, with a high 
porch along its eaves, and, between this house and a Dutch oven, a 
small open space was rilled with men. Advancing among these, 
Lloyd exclaimed, cheerfully : 

" Mr. Smith pep, I m in luck again to find you here." 

To his astonishment, a powerful hand immediately seized his 
collar and held him tight. 

" Bring that torch here ! " spoke the firm voice of Isaac Smith. 

A torch came near, and, as it flashed upon Lloyd Ouantrell s 
face, a person twisted his gun out of his hand and another person 
seized the accordion. 

"Father, it s Mr. Quantrell," spoke up the voice of young Wat 
son Smith. 

" How did you pass the picket ? " asked Oliver Smith, with a 
wondering face. 

" Why, friends," Lloyd said, "a black fellow at the gate found I 
knew you. He wasn t as uncivil as this other nigger who has got 
my gun ! " 

Turning, Lloyd indicated a large, handsome mulatto man, who 
stood looking at him with an alert, undismayed eye, unlike that of 
any negro Lloyd had ever seen. 

" Newby," spoke Oliver Smith, "go away ! Give me the gun." 

It was good advice, for the laws of hospitality could hardly keep 
the white Marylander in check when treated disrespectfully by a 

" A man prowling through the mountains with a gun, on the 
Sabbath-night, must give an account of himself, sir," spoke Isaac 

" Why, my dear old man, I came to bring you a letter from your 
landlord, who wants his cow. I think I wouldn t have taken the 
trouble, but that I was going to the Ferry to get the train. Don t 
look at me so hard, men ; the worst about me is I m hungry." 

Isaac Smith took the letter, and, with a perplexed look, re 
marked : 

" I don t want to treat you uncivil, sir, if you came upon an hon 
est errand. Stevens, you and Mr. Kagi get some of that pork for 


Mr. Quantrell, and take him to the spring-house and examine 

Greatly puzzled to know what it could all mean, Lloyd, with a 
slavery-bred man s instinct for guessing wild, and being easily satis 
fied, considered that Smith might be a lunatic keeping a sort of 
mountain sanitarium for other lunatics. 

The two men led him down the path to the old log dairy- with 
its hooded roof, and, sitting there, looked at him intently and silently 
while he ate some lean pork and filled his flask-cup. 

" We can get three drinks out of this old thing yet, if we divide 
fair," cried Lloyd. 

" Take it all yourself," said the man addressed as Stevens, with 
a certain cool, bold self-reliance. 

" That will be cleared off the earth too, some day, I calkelate," 
added the other man, who had been addressed as Kagi. 

" You mean whisky ? " laughed Quantrell, holding the glass up 
to the torch, which now illuminated the old spring-house till some 
bats or swallows there sailed out into the night ; " it s cleared off the 
earth every rye-harvest now, and given, like man, to the worm." 

" Cool chap ! " said Stevens, looking at Kagi. 

" What s that about the worm ? " asked Kagi, not informed 
about distilling processes. 

" The worm" replied Lloyd, " is what alcohol ascends to spirit 
through, and, so, another worm eats man before he can be a saint. 
So here s to the worm ! " 

As Quantrell raised the glass and emptied it, a look of dislike, 
and then of pallor, came over Kagi s face. The torch in his hand 
drooped nearly to the water, and oil or pitch ran out of it upon the 
bubbling spring. 

"He is not safe," muttered Kagi to Stevens. 

" He believes, like me, in the world of spirits," Stevens said. 
" Give me your glass, Quantrell ! Here s to the Worm that distills 
us to the stars ! " 

As Stevens handed the cup back, Lloyd looked at these two 
with an interest always inspired by self-contained men. 

Both were of fine, if uncultivated, appearance. Kagi seemed to 
be the more intelligent of the two, Stevens the more independent. 
Lloyd felt that he had not made an impression upon either of them, 
but Stevens seemed indifferent or careless to his approaches ; Kagi 
was almost aggressive, yet disturbed. 



Kagi was large, almost portly, with black beard, weather- exposed c 
and long black hair. Stevens was not so tall but more symmetrical 
and powerful, with military shoulders, straight, clean-made hands, a 
head poised in conscious strength of animal life, a skin soft as a 
woman s, dark-brown hair, beard over all his jaws, and hazel eyes 
which were both contumacious and keen. 

"Did Pop Smith buy the dark fellow I passed at the gate ?" 
Lloyd asked. 

" Traded for him," Stevens replied. 

" Give em a little something to boot," put in Kagi, shaking off 
his heaviness. 

Both men laughed. 

* Well," said Lloyd, " that was my idea of Father Smith, that he 
was kind to people. That s why I can t understand his way of 
treating me to-night." 

" Have you got any slaves to trade him ? " asked Kagi, with in 

" None I can control ; mine won t come into my possession for 
more than a year." 

" Quantrell," said Stevens, " Mr. Smith is about moving from 
the farm. You got here just as everything was packed. That s 
why you see so many people around ; moving a neighbor, you 

" Why, that s just it," exclaimed the young stranger, throwing 
away all offense. " Let s go up and make him apologize." 

" No," said Stevens, "he s peculiar. Go up and bid him good 
night unless he makes you stay." 

" Can t stay," laughed Lloyd, gayly ; "I m just in love to-day, 
and going to ask my governor s consent, by to-night s train." 

They found comparatively few persons now at the dwelling, 
which was a miserable home for a man with six slaves a long hut, 
half buried in the hill, so that there was a mere cellar under its 
high, rickety porch, and a small story and loft above. A candle as 
sisted to reveal thus much, and boxes, trunks, and cheap valises, re 
cently packed or emptied, were seen within this cellar. Not far 
behind the house the small pines grew dense and black, and clouds 
were hurrying in the sky as the winds rose and whistled. 

" Is it correct, gentlemen ? " asked Isaac Smith. 

"Fuddled," said Stevens. 

"Mysterious," said Kagi. 



" Who is that young person making free with my girl s accor 
dion ? " spoke up Quantrell, hearing the instrument awkwardly 

" That s Captain Cook," answered Isaac Smith. " He s quite 
a cultivated person and a teacher." 


A SMALL, stooping, light-haired lad came out with the accor 
dion and looked at Lloyd through pale- blue eyes, which seemed to 
feel his accomplishments. 

Lloyd took Katy s gift and put his fingers to the keys. 

A little culture, if learned in engine-houses and partisan clubs, 
helps many a man through life. 

Something about these people seemed still suspectful and for 
bidding. Quantrell had tried his temperament upon them in vain, 
and now he had only some rude tunes to lull them with. 

He began to play " Home, Sweet Home." 

After a few strains, other persons seemed to come in, as if from 
the barns and corn-cribs and pine thickets. At first sullen, next 
wondering, and soon affected tenderly, they lay in blankets upon 
the autumn earth, or stood around in curious groups, while he 
played the air that the simple and the cot-bred of the British races 
know everywhere. 

Some of the people who ventured near were negroes, strange- 
looking negroes for Maryland or for the American States anywhere 
so wanting in politeness or even hospitality ; preoccupied, too, as 
if with the morrow s house-moving occupations ; but these soon 
felt the infection of the tender tune, and one young, handsome white 
boy came up and sat by Lloyd upon an old hair-trunk and listening, 
filled with tears at his bright eyes. Lloyd sang the words in his own 
melodious voice : 

" An exile from home, pleasure dazzles in vain, 
Ah ! give me my lowly thatched cottage again ; 
The birds singing sweetly that came to my call, 
Give them back, and my peace of mind, dearer than all." 


As the song finished, a sob was heard at Quantrell s elbow. Wat 
son Smith came up and said to the young man sitting there : 

" Ned, what ails you ? " 

" I ve got people in Iowa and my own land there." 

"Isabel" was the answer, in a broken tone. 

"Play something, Mr. Quantrell," spoke Isaac Smith, "which 
will remind us of the Sabbath and the heavenly rest ; for here we 
have no abiding-place." 

A camp-meeting tune, the favorite of his deceased mother, came 
to Quantrell s memory and art, and in the cool mountain air these 
simple strains ascended : 

" I m a pilgrim and I m a stranger; I can tarry, I can tarry but a 

night ; 
Do not detain me, for I am going to where the streamlets are ever 

flowing ; 
I m a pilgrim and I m a stranger I can tarry, I can tarry but a night ! 

" There the sunbeams are ever shining, and I m longing, I am longing 

for the sight ; 

Within a country unknown and dreary, I have been wandering for 
lorn and weary ; 
I m a pilgrim and I m a stranger I can tarry, I can tarry but a night. 

" Of that country to which I m going, my Redeemer, my Redeemer is 

the Light ! 

There is no sorrow nor any sighing, nor any sin there, nor any dying ; 
I m a pilgrim and I m a stranger I can tarry, I can tarry but a night ! " 

During this singing a torch had been procured, which showed all 
the faces, even to the outer parts of the humble circle. There 
seemed to be at least twenty men present, and not a single woman. 
Of Smith s own sons there were manifestly three, resembling each 
other even in their differences ; and two young men, addressed as 
Thompson, of very pleasing countenances, Lloyd found to be old 
Mr. Smith s sons-in-law. One of these, of a most cordial face and 
manly figure, was looking at the stranger as he finished the last 
tune, and Quantrell spoke up : 

"Now, William I heard friend Watson say Isabel just now. 
That s your sister, I reckon ? " 

" You re right, sir," the young man exclaimed ; " my sister s mar 
ried to him, and his sister Ruth s married to my brother." 


"Well, now, in honor of that union I ll play you one more tune 
before I say Good-night. " 

Mr. Thompson hesitated. 

" Do you know America ? " he asked. 

"Is this it, William? " 

Lloyd found in his mind the measure and the words, and other 
voices joined in as he proceeded, till the last stanza pealed on the 
mountain night in trembling tones the player never forgot : 

" My country ! tis of thee, 
Sweet land of Liberty, 

Of thee I sing ; 
Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrim s pride, 
From every mountain-side 
Let Freedom ring ! 

" Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet Freedom s song ! 
Let mortal tongues awake, 
Let all that breathe partake, 
Let rocks their silence break, 

The sound prolong ! " 

Whites sang it ; blacks seemed singing, too ; but it was not, to 
Lloyd s idea, a tune for blacks, though they might hear it. 

At the resoonding end, where " God, the author of Liberty," is 
appealed to, to keep us "in Freedom s holy light," and " protect us 
by his might," Isaac Smith made all rise. 

" We will pray in the spirit of that hymn," he said, " and send 
each other on his way with God s blessing ! " 

Lloyd looked around; and the words of the prayer impressed him 
less than the manner of the listeners. 

Stevens and Kagi were looking at Lloyd. Cook was stooping 
by the accordion as if he meditated a tune after the prayer which 
would put Lloyd s performances out of praise ; nearly all the rest, 
whites and blacks, were standing or leaning with the expressions of 
people at a funeral where the dead was being re-hearsed by the 
preacher. Some had hands over their eyes ; others with eyes closed 
seemed muttering responses ; a few knelt on the ground and bowed 



The imperfect light of torch and stars and fiery clouds showed 
chiefly the Mosaic old man in the midst, surrounded by his sons 
and sons-in-law, plainly praying, without the least excitement, in 
the practical tones he might have used to order his farm-work to 
be done. The words would have seemed full of feeling if the man 
ner had not been so orderly and precise, and Lloyd remarked to 
himself : 

" Pop Smith isn t the actor he was on the mountain yesterday. 
What can these people be so much interested for ? " 

He heard himself alluded to, toward the last, as " the young friend 
who, taking our hearts by music to home, admonishes us of them 
whose hearts and homes are never recognized. Those dear tunes 
of home, country, and heaven must be our only drum and fife, Lord ! 
as here we tarry but a night." 

A sob seemed to go around somewhere in the dark, and there 
were sounds as of negroes in convulsive prayer. Seeking to separate 
these mystic noises, Quantrell felt his hand grasped by long, bony 
fingers, and as if still praying, Isaac Smith was talking to him : 

" Go, young man ! The Lord bless you for the music you have 
brought and the pious mother, perhaps, who taught you tunes so 
comforting to these poor people ! Keep off the streets ! Don t 
expose yourself ! Don t stand on the corners, particularly ! Captain 
Cook, go with him past the limits." 

" I must be getting a reputation all over Maryland," Lloyd 
thought, " for standing at the street corners in Baltimore. My gov 
ernor lectured me about it when he sent me off gunning. Well, 
now I am in love -I shall stop loafing." 

" Will you take the accordion along, Quantrell ? " said Captain 
Cook, looking at it wistfully. 

" I would like to leave my accordion here and my dog Fritz," 
Lloyd replied, looking around upon the people, who still watched 
him curiously ; " but, if you are going to move, they won t be safe." 

" Oh," said Stevens, " Mr. Smith is only going to move to his 
other house, across the road yonder." 

Following the gesture, Lloyd saw a light a good way off, moving 
at some windows. 

" Is this the dog ? " old Isaac Smith asked, bringing Fritz for 
ward. To Lloyd s admiration that sturdy mastiff made no resist 
ance as Smith tied him fast to the railing of the little porch above. 

"Copeland Green," Smith spoke to two of the negroes, "put 



food and water by Mr. Quantrell s dog. You will be sure to find 
him here, sir, when you return." 

As Fritz yielded to the gentle hand and firm control of Isaac 
Smith, the highly bred Albion, seeing the companion he had misled 
now tied fast and apparently in subjection, darted upon Fritz with 
treachery and fury, and seemed resolved to get an ear for an ear. He 
reckoned without his host, however, for Isaac Smith, kicking Albion 
almost without effort, caught him also by the muzzle and tail as he 
turned in pain, and threw him right over the railing. Half a dozen 
persons below kicked him along their line, and, frightened almost 
to death, the pointer fled down the lane. 

" He ll go along with you meekly, now, Mr. Quantrell," Smith 
remarked, without apology. " You ll never get much pleasure from 
him, sir. The spaniel crossed on the cruel hound, however high he 
is bred, does not get the stability of such useful and faithful domes 
tic mongrels as this ! " 

Putting his hand upon Fritz, that big creature set his head be 
tween Isaac Smith s knees and wagged his tail. 

" Come," said little Captain Cook to Quantrell. 

" Good-night, my mountain friends ! " Lloyd Quantrell cried, 
cheerily, at the head of the lane. " You re rough, but ready, I Know. 
We ll meet, I hope, again." 

" Good-night ! " rang out many voices ; and still the sense of some 
dislike or doubt of himself seemed to linger in those sounds, and the 
last looks from the by-standers had something predatory in them. 

He felt this so instinctively that he walked very slowly and cool- 
hearted down the lane, as if there might be an enemy behind him. 

Near the gate stood a black man with the shining something 
still in his hand, and to him Cook dropped a word. 

"Now, Quantrell," said Cook, after walking some distance along 
the road, " you ll find this accordion in the garret under the eaves, 
if they can t find it for you. You owe to it more than you at pres 
ent know. If I hadn t my hands full now, I would learn to play it 
before you came back. Anyway, I know I m a better shot than 
you. You ll be proud some day that you knew me. Good-night ! " 

" Good-night, Cook. With that good opinion of yourself I know 
you ll be heard from," spoke Lloyd, laughing " Come, Albion ! " 

The dog now truckled low to Quantrell, and almost retarded his 
way, so obsequious was he after his late contemptuous chastise 
ment ; but his master was depressed in spirits from some unknown 


reason, and the animal s attentions did not compose the dangers of 
the road. 

A slight sense of bodily fear which he had been ashamed to rec 
ognize in all these mountain wanderings, was over him to-night. 
Those strange, unclassifiable faces he had just parted from were the 
only ones he had been unable to reduce to fraternity ; and even his 
music, while it touched them for its sentiments, had not softened 
them to himself. 

He, somehow, felt that Katy s simple instrument had been his 

Had they meant to rob him ? Were they following him now 
with that intent ? Lloyd stopped to listen, and on the disturbed air 
came the sound of the accordion, and a womanly voice to the old 

tune : 

(i The season s in for partridges, 
Let s take our guns and dogs ; 
It sha n t be said that we re afraid 
Of quagmires or of bogs, 

When a shooting we do go, do go, do go, 

When a shooting we do go." 

" That fellow Cook s too simple to rob anybody," thought Lloyd. 
" No, they must have been honest mountaineers, too inexperienced 
not to stare at me. Besides, they all prayed all but one or two. 
Yet old Smith was working on the Sabbath-clay, spite of his re 
ligion. I reckon he s one of those Seventh-Day Baptists I ve heard 
of, farther up the Antietam, who work Sundays and worship Satur 
days. That would account for his praying more devoutly yester 
day than to-day. Come to think of it," concluded Lloyd, " the 
Seventh-Day Baptists, Luther told me, did not believe in marriage. 
That may be why I saw no women on the farm. I would trust 
Isaac Smith anywhere. The fact is, I have seen so many queer 
things in the last twenty-four hours that everything looks queer to 
me. Two men have kissed me, and I have had my fortune told ! " 

As the dog came up with its insidious attentions now, the 
singular explicitness of Katy s fortune, and the A r agueness of his 
own, as told by Hannah Ritner, occurred to his mind. How could 
all the game on earth rise before his gun ? 

Not unless the wilderness was restored here. 

But the prediction that Katy should lose a ring ? 

Whatever that meant, it had for a moment an evil, wicked 

KA T Y S A CCO R DION. j o l 

moment, which he dispelled with indignation as a wanton iciea tried 
to enter his mind been verified in his own experience. 

Last night he had gone to bed all fluttered and fickle-hearted 
after holding Katy in his arms. 

To-day her pure, religious nature had made him see the woman 
hood latent in her, and aroused a manhood higher than he thought 
he possessed. 

" God protect her, and lay me dead ere I can do her harm ! " 
Lloyd Quantrell- fervently exclaimed, looking up at the agitated 
wind and rain-clouds which seemed seeking to overrun heaven. 

The dog Albion barked. 

It seemed to him strange that after such a passionate prayer his 
mind should again be suddenly possessed by worldly and selfish 

In a few minutes he suppressed them, but only to be attacked 
by other forebodings. 

Now the recollection of Hannah Ritner s last prediction, that by 
taking this very road his destiny would be altered, oppressed his 

The road was growing worse and worse as it wound down the 
plateau through the hills. 

Sometimes the Elk Ridge, almost transparent, would ride 
through the night like a long, cylindrical billow, and seem to be 
rolling toward him in phosphoric sparklings ; and then he would go 
down into depths like midnight, where some small stream could be 
heard hollow and distrustful, accompanying the road in some deep 
wash or gulf, and in the darkness the great grape-vines seemed to 
exhale a chill as they struggled up to the top branches of the bass- 
wood, or rank and giant wild-cherry trees. 

In other ravines the rocks fairly grew across the way, as if 
planted in rows, and on the summits the gentle but melancholy 
locust-trees shook in the wind which the angry and plunging moon 
seemed to blow from its lurid bag. 

A pale-faced woman would peep from some occasional hut 
where the candle-light revealed her, and the turkeys roosting in the 
trees would cluck together, like people laughing in the ague s clutch ; 
but on the glimmering wheat stubble at the clearings the moon lay 
with a circling, partial light, like an insatiate sickle, which wanted 
next year s seedlings, too, before their birth, or Herod searching for 
the scarce-born babes. 


Then mighty rocks would overhang the road, so big that they 
seemed masses of foliage, and for spaces the mullein-stalks stood up 
desolately, and no more bent to the wind than aged maidens to a 

At one level place a stream, winding through a kind of copse of 
alder and brake, came but of the thicket tunefully, and spread itself 
over sandy shallows, and compelled some soft grass to receive the 
subdued light twinkling through old sycamores which kept the 
clouds off with their speckled arms. Here, amid the willows, a 
little log school-house stood in a sort of fork of the road, and, as 
Lloyd rested on its sill, a screech-owl within, like the last school 
master, raised a dreary, quivering wail. 

Repelled with superstition from the spot, Quantrell proceeded 
on, till at a summit there broke upon his view the lights of a town in 
the mountains. 

Even this sense of relief was accompanied by superstition, since 
it seemed unnatural to find a town so high in the air as this mani 
festly was, and right in his road ; but as he proceeded there opened 
between him and the lights a deep, black, glistening gulf or wilder 
ness, which he soon recognized, by white riffles or dark rocks, and 
blacker heights hugging it round, to be the river Potomac. 

Then he remembered that the town of Harper s Ferry hung 
around the base of an inhabited height, like the mountain he was 
descending, and that the town or suburb on the height was called 

Hastening down a frightfully torn road, the music of a brook at 
its side was soon drowned in the roaring of the river, and a canal 
and locks were on the river s border, barely leaving space for Lloyd s 
road to creep beneath the mighty Elk Mountain that now began 
to tower almost perpendicularly, and become a buttress to the Blue 
Ridge which, two furlongs in advance, stepped across the river, 
leaving a ghastly rift between. 

The dog in real companionship shrank close to Quantrell now, 
seeing the steeps above, amid the hurrying clouds, apparently fall 
ing down to close the chasm and bury them ; while the wind, 
caught in this funnel, went wildly to and fro, shaking the trees in 
the crevices of the precipice, and rattling down roots and stones, 
and the river raised its thousand riffling voices as if birds and wolves 
in flocks dreaded to pass this storm-infested gap. 

"Poor Albion!" Lloyd spoke sympathetically, "no wonder the 



dog s afraid ! This place by moonlight is like the devil s throne, 
but, with storm threatening it, is like being swallowed by a sea-ser 

He walked fast over the stony road till the great mountain was 
as directly over him stepping from Maryland into Virginia as if 
he had been between a giant s legs. Here, lying low to the water, 
a covered bridge, almost concealed in the mountain shadows, re 
ceived at once the road and a railroad, which, meeting each other 
beneath the toppling mountain thirteen hundred feet above them, 
ran into the bridge and shivered there side by side. 

A lock-house was near the bridge and a bargeman s tavern, and, 
across the wide flood, a thousand feet away, the railroad lights of 
red, and household candles of Harper s Ferry, shone and reflected 
in the water like jewels in an elephant s foot, whose great head and 
back supported the higher town. 

Quantrell entered the solemn bridge, and the river beneath him 
seemed to sigh like the hurrying souls of all the Indian tribes 
drowned here, even in the whoop of war and chase. 

He emerged at a place where the bridge had two outlets, like 
the letter Y, a railroad-track in each, and that to the left ended near 
another bridge which spanned a different river, not visible before, 
beneath the long Virginia mountain and the town. This river, the 
Shenandoah, was almost as fierce and wide as the Potomac, which 
it assisted to break through the mountain gate. 

Lloyd took the other bridge outlet and came into the little in 
habited strand or sill of Harper s Ferry, which lined two streets, 
one along either river-bank. The bridge was the key to the town, 
like a key to a trunk. 

In the eye of the bridge and close by it was the gate of some 
stately institution, all noble with lines of lamps and walks and regu 
lar buildings, and between it and the bridge a hotel clung to the 
narrow railroad passage. Opposite this hotel was a detached part 
of the beautiful institution beyond, with similar walls of stone and 
fence panels of musket-barrels or spears. 

It did not need a Marylander to tell that this was the great war- 
factory of the American Republic, where the muskets and rifles 
which equipped its little army had been made since the rule of 
President Washington. 

The stately institution beneath the Potomac heights was the 
national armory ; the detached buildings on the Shenandoah side 


were the arsenal ; the two rivers meeting at the spot furnished un 
ceasing water-power. 

Leaving his gun and trappings at the hotel, Lloyd was directed 
to a saloon where a stealthy bar was open Sundays. It was a little 
place by the Shenandoah side, and, when he entered, it was quite full 
of men, some drinking, some drunk. 

" Here s one of tern tarn apolitionists, py Jing ! " cried a voice, 
and a man came up to Lloyd sneeringly. 

" You here, Andrew Atzerodt ! " exclaimed Quantrell. " Spend 
ing your blood-money, I reckon." 

" Tidn t I capture tat nigger, Lloyd ? " the tipsy fellow inquired. 
"Tey want to take teir money back, pecause tey let him git 
away ! " 

" You here, Logan ? " Lloyd spoke up, seeing the two slave- 
hunters, also sullen with disappointment and drink. " Then your 
prey escaped you ! " 

" Why not," answered the man, " when this Dutch braggart 
stopped everybody in the road to proclaim he had tuk a nigger ? 
We was waylaid and beat." 

" Not me, py Jing ! " shouted Atzerodt. 

" No," said a Logan. " you took to your heels. We was licked, 
but we fought fur our nigger." 

" Who did it? " asked Quantrell. 

" That s what we d give five hundred dollars to know." 

" If I knew I wouldn t tell you," Lloyd replied. " Such fellows 
as you, without any interest in slavery, do its dirty work." 

" Go fur him, poys ! " screamed Atzerodt, getting behind the 
Logans. " He s a spy and a nigger-lover." 

The larger Logan came up to Lloyd, while everybody stopped 
drinking at the bar and crowded around, hopeful of some " diffi 
culty." His brother slipped around to Quantrell s side with a treach 
erous face. 

" I think you re the man who wanted to take that slave, Ashby, 
from us at Smoketown," said Logan. " You wanted to fight me 
there. Take that ! " 

" Take that ! " exclaimed the brother. 

Both struck Quantrell in the head with their hard fists. 

" Take this ! " answered Lloyd, staggering but not falling, and 
without raising his voice, while he planted a blow in the face of each 
mountaineer, and followed them up with the rapidity of a pugilist, 



his countenance more smiling than angry, and his strength pro 

" Take this home to the children," Lloyd said as he struck 
again. " Take it carefully ! Don t drop it and break it ! " 

The meaner Logan was down in a minute, crying anxiously, 
" Lew, he s armed ! " The larger Logan fought well and tried to 
get in close and wrestle with Quantrell, whose skill kept him off and 
punished him terribly. In a few seconds he, too, was down and 
crying " Enough ! " 

The landlord had meantime drawn a long revolver pistol from 
the bar, but was too much interested in the fight to point it, and, 
before he could determine what to do, Quantrell twisted it out of 
his hand. 

" Gentlemen," said, the man, " my license will be taken away 
unless you all hurry out." 

" Go out ! " spoke Lloyd, indicating the Logans, the pistol in 
his hand. " Put that bridge between you and Harper s Ferry ! 
This gun may kill better men." 

As they slipped out gratefully, Quantrell turned to the landlord 
and spoke : 

" Whoever is not ashamed to drink with a true American, is my 
guest ! " 

Silently, admiringly, everybody in sight came to the bar. As 
they waited for the champion to set the health, he deliberately 
raised his arms and shook them, wing-fashion, and crowed like a 

" Cock-Robin cock of the walk to-night ! " exclaimed Quantrell 
merrily, emptying his glass. 

They drank with even more quiet awe, for they recognized in 
" Cock-Robin " one of the dreaded Baltimore anti-foreign clubs. 

When all had finished drinking, Andrew Atzerodt crawled out 
from behind a barrel and executed a crow with all Lloyd s non 

" Where s my drink, Lloyd ? " he spoke, loudly ; " tidn t we tackle 
em, py Jing ! " 

In the midst of the roar of laughter a stranger drew Lloyd away, 
saying : 

" Come, sir, this place is beneath a man of your courage." 

Handing the pistol back to the owner, Lloyd walked with the 
stranger to the hotel, and, giving him a cigar, drew chairs upon the 


railroad platform which extended on high trestles between the 
Potomac and the armory-yard. The tall brick edifices, plots of 
grass, high flag- staff, and chimneys, reposed among the lights be 
neath the profile of the upper town, where a great rock, like an 
anvil, overhung the Shenandoah, and the fiery-edged clouds seemed 
like red-hot horseshoes shifted upon it by the blacksmith of the 

" That is Jefferson s Rock, sir," said the stranger, in reserved 
tones ; " I suppose you know it." 

" No, my friend." 

" Mr. Jefferson wrote his Notes on Virginia sitting up there. 
My deceased father, who was a strong State-rights man, had a 
tradition that some day a child would come and push that rock 
over. It is nearly balanced, you see, by its own weight. Then, my 
father said, the State-rights of Jefferson would be no more." 

" Your county here is called Jefferson, I think ? " 

" Yes. At the county-seat, a few miles south of this place. 
General Washington s brother Charles settled, and his descendant 
is my neighbor." 

" Your name, my friend ? " 

" Beall John Beall." 

" Why, John, that s an old Maryland name around Washington 

" Yes, sir," the young man, who was near Ouantrell s own age, 
answered, with a subdued voice, like one naturally reticent ; " I am 
of the McGruders and Bealls, Rob Roy s own blood." 

Lloyd Quantrell put his hand on John Beall s shoulder affection 
ately, and could almost feel the young man s reserved countenance 
smile as Lloyd hummed the tune : 

14 But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord, 
McGregor has still both his heart and his sword : 
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach ! 

" Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew, 
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful halloo : 
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, Grigalach ! " 

"You sing as well as you fight, sir. You must be a gentle 

"Ah," said Quantrell, "that s the highest degree in Masonry, 
I m afraid not. Lloyd Quantrell is my name, however." 



"I ll take you for a gentleman, Mr. Ouantrell. My grandfather 
was an Englishman ; he lived most of his life in Virginia. He 
never would be naturalized here, though he was a Federalist and 
disliked Mr. Jefferson. I went to England with him to see him die 
there in his old Norman homestead. He said to me in his last ill 
ness, The man who can fight without hate and sing without invi 
tation is a citizen anywhere. " 

" Well, John, I ll answer to being a citizen, then. With you, I ll 
be a Virginian. We can squeeze a small drink out of my flask." 

" Thank you," Beall answered, accepting the Marylander s hand, 
" but I seldom drink. I went through the form at the saloon in 
compliment to your prowess. The fact is, I m a communicant in 
our Episcopal Church. A large family my widowed mother s 
depend on me. I came here to-night for a poor neighbor who ex 
pected to recover her slave. She is a preacher s widow, and had an 
old negro man. His son, to satisfy the old man s wife, who lived 
North, came down and stole the father. The son himself made his 
escape not long ago." 

" John," said Quantrell, " the old man has got his freedom. He 
is dead." 

" I m not surprised to hear it," said Beall, unmoved. " He was 
too old to run away. But I considered it my religious duty to unite 
with others in offering a reward for his son Ashby, whose bold 
deed in coming into a slave State to make a capture shows a fright 
ful demoralization in negroes." 

" What is he worth, John ? " 

" Probably not as much as the reward, since the extension of 
slavery has been defeated in Kansas. What an outrage on State- 
rights was that ! " 

With a warm invitation to come to his farm, Mr. Beall mounted 
his horse in the street below, and turned him up the hill through 
the middle of the town. 

"A little inflexible," Quantrell reflected, "but a true-hearted 
Virginian all the same." 

He took a room in the hotel, where only a very tall and very 
black negro, probably six and a half feet high, seemed to be awake. 
The railroad agent, also a powerful man, was continually bantering 
this negro, who seemed fully as independent. 

" Ain t yo nigger, noway," exclaimed this black giant, while 
looking for Lloyd s key. "Jess call myseff yo nigger fo con- 


venience. Want a better-lookin man than yo to be my moss- 

" So ho, now ! so ho ! " exclaimed the big white man, sleepily 
holding up his red lamp. "Ain t you shamed, Hey wood ? I m 
shamed faw you. Anybody can see you re no Vurgeenian by your 
manners. Talkin that a-way to a man o my age ! " 

" Dat s what s de fack," said Heywood ; " yo s too ole to be my 
mossta. Yo s a ole widower. Don t you so ho me: I m a free 
man, I am ! Don t go nowhar for nobody if dey don t treat me 

" I m sorry faw you, Heywood. I hope your wife and childern 
won t hear how you talk to me. You may be a widowaw, too, Hey 

As the big man walked up the platform as mechanically as he 
had been quarreling, swinging the red lamp, the gigantic negro, 
paying no attention to Lloyd, seized a cloak and darted after him. 

" Yer, squire, yo ole dunce ! Moss Beckham, you put on dis 
yer cloak. Doyouhyar? Dat cole wind 11 fall on to yo kidneys. 
Den yo ll be busin of me mo ." 

"I won t have it, Heywood," Lloyd heard the squire say; 
"nobody can pet me aftaw spilin of my feelin s. So ho, now! go 
ho, Heywood ! " 

"Dar ! " exclaimed the negro, " wrap it round yo now and go to 
bed. Gi me de lamp. You sha n t stay up no mo dis night." 

Coming back with the lamp, the negro selected a key and took 
Lloyd to an upper room overlooking the town, promising to call 
him for the Baltimore train. 

" Does the squire own you, Heywood ? " asked Lloyd. 

" No. De prejudice ag inst free colored men is so big heah, dat 
I s a kine of ward to him, to keep my property at Winchester. He s 
de bes friend I got. Ef I didn t sass him a little, reckon he 
wouldn t like me ! " 

"Here," said Lloyd, giving the negro a silver piece, "try, the 
next time he tempts you, to answer the squire kindly. We can t 
tell what word will be our last, Heywood, with them we love." 

"Thank you, mossta. Reckon I will treat de squire better. 
Why, he d die fur me ! " 

As the sound of the negro s feet ceased in the bare halls and 
stairs, Lloyd drew off his boots and sat at the window, tired and 
bruised, looking sleepily out upon the great Loudoun Heights and 



the dark, riffle-fleeced Shenandoah, and the mill-races on both river- 
banks carrying strong water-power to State and private machinery. 
The sky was cloudy and windy, and brazen lights contended there 
with inky scud. The watchman at the granite gate-post below 
locked up the armory-yard, and Harper s Ferry expressed no sound 
but the hurrying, moaning rivers. 

" Nothing has happened to-night to change my destiny," Lloyd 
remarked, nodding. " I got away with the two Logan brutes 
easily. I shall see my father at breakfast, and tell him, boldly, I am 
in love. Will he oppose me? No. I am my mother s bequest to 
him, and he does not despise beauty and virtue because they are 

A low whine rang through the room. 

" Lie down, Albion ! " Lloyd exclaimed. " I shall give you to 
little Katy of Catoctin. God bless her ! " 

He fell asleep, the high-bred pointer at his feet. His mother 
came to him there in dreams, and seemed to say : 

" Tired boy, sleep, for you have a long walk before you, and no 

He did not know how long he had been sleeping when a shock, 
as if the Loudoun Heights had fallen, awoke him. A splitting, re 
sounding, appalling noise thundered through the black village. 

"Has a powder-magazine exploded ?" asked Lloyd, gazing out 
and rubbing his eyes. " I couldn t have dreamed anything as real 
and loud as that ! No, I see what it is now by yonder dim moon- 
rime reflected from the Virginia mountain a part of Jefferson s Rock 
has fallen. Some infant must have been born here to-night and 
pushed it over." 



His watch showed that it was about eleven o clock. 

From the street below came up a sound of loose, creaking 
wheels and some footsteps, and the word 

" Halt ! " 

Lloyd Quantrell looked down from his window in the close yet 
damp night, and his sight slowly separated the objects in the little 


piece of street which has already been called the key of Harper s 
Ferry, and which led from the bridge to the armory-gate in a nearly 
straight line. 

The saloon where Quantrell had been attacked, a little building 
of wood, confronted this street near the bridge, and was probably 
four hundred feet from the government gate. Between saloon and 
gate some small private offices and shops clung along the arsenal s 
wall, and the railroad tavern was a basement story lower on the 
street than upon the railroad. 

Another street, at right angles, ran along the armory gate and 
yard, at the corner of which yard it sent off an oblique street, and a 
short block farther on, a steep street, both nearly parallel to the Po 
tomac ; while the first street, called Shenandoah, kept along between 
the houses and cliffs till, at a far distance, it ended at another armory, 
indistinctly seen by Lloyd, and called the Rifle- works. 

Thus an armory closed up the town by either river, except for 
the passage of the two railways, and only the second or steep street 
led over the rough hill of Bolivar into the great upland Valley of Vir 

Before the armory gate some things were moving and shining 
like steel, and suppressed voices spoke sententiously there : 

" Open this gate ! " 

" Who is it ? " 

" Open this gate ! " 

" Where is the key ? " 

" You are a dead man ! " 

" Oh-h mercy ! " 

" Make any noise, and you are a dead man ! " 

With this strange colloquy there seemed to be a jumping up on 
the wall, and a jumping down and a scuffle. Then came the words : 

" That key, or you are 

" Oh, don t ! I m the pore watchman ! " 

" Never mind him," spoke another voice, firm and cool. " Bring 
the crow-bar and the big hammer ! " 

A rattling, twisting, snapping sound followed, and the word 

" March ! " 

The wagon creaked again, the shining things in the streets moved 
within the gate, and the foliage of shade-trees and the shadows of 
the armory buildings swallowed up the episode. 

" What brutes these semi-military officials are ! " Quantrell re- 


fleeted. " Drunken superintendents and privileged political clerks, 
no doubt, who have lost their keys, and will conclude a Sunday s 
excursion by sleeping in Uncle Sam s offices. But who could ex 
pect anything better with Wise Governor of Virginia, and his Dutch 
and Irish on top of true Americans ? " 

He had nearly fallen to sleep again when there came a sober 
sound from the open gate below : 

" All s well ! " 

A voice replied, like a negro s : 9 . 

" All s well ! " 

"I m glad of that," muttered Quantrell, "for I thought every 
thing was sick. Why, they re coming away quick ! Found the 
demijohn empty, I reckon ! " 

He was now able to perceive a small wagon drawn by one horse, 
and it seemed to be nearly full of men, though others walked by its 
side. They passed up Shenandoah Street, and seemed to divide at 
the second corner ; and, at the gate below, there remained two other 
men standing still, with something shining in their hands. 

" Close the gate," said a voice within, " and halt everybody 
now ! " 

" Having had the horse stolen," Quantrell mused, sleepily, " of 
course they lock the stable-door now. I think everybody hates the 

He noted the sharp, black rim of Loudoun Heights again, like a 
ragged shell inclosing the oyster of the town, and the sighing, whis 
pering rivers. As he dozed, voices in the still street seemed to say : 

" Who goes there ? " 

"Prisoner! From the bridge." 

" Who goes there ? " 

"Prisoner! From the rifle-works." 

" All s well ! " 

" All s well ! " 

"Now," considered Quantrell, "these official parasites are con 
cluding their spree by arresting all the sober men on duty ! When 
I get to Baltimore I ll just describe in the Clipper what sort of 
rule Buchanan and Floyd and Wise have clapped on Old Virginia, 
the mother of our Presidents. Meanwhile, I ll lie on the bed and 
not be disturbed." 

He slept longer this time, and was awakened by a wheezing, 
grinding noise which made him leap to his feet and seize his gun 


and hunter s outfit and dash down the stairs. An engine and pas 
senger train, pointed for Baltimore, stood at the station adjoining 
the tavern. 

" You scoundrel ! " Lloyd exclaimed to the negro porter, " why 
didn t you call me ? " 

" Couldn t hyar from de train," answered the negro ; " telegraph 
wires all down somehow. Whar s dat ar bridge watchman ? " 

" Where is anybody, responsible ? " Lloyd exclaimed. " Every 
thing seems left to one impudent nigger." 

" Don yo say I ain t sponsible, now ! " the porter vociferated, 
shaking his lamp. " I know my business ! Squire Beckham, come 
out hyar! Nobody can t be foun , and I m blamed by everybody." 

The negro continued toward the bridge, and Lloyd threw his 
dog into the smoking-caboose and climbed upon the train, which in 
a moment proceeded along the river-side, and the engine entered the 
bridge. He was settling down for a doze, when he heard clear voices 
in the hollow cavity of this long viaduct : 

" Halt there, or you are a dead man ! " 

The engine had suddenly stopped, and continued to snore and 
tremble as if it dreamed all this indignity to the United States mail. 

" What do you want ? " 

" Liberty. And we mean to have it ! " 

" What kind of liberty do you mean ? " 

" Like yours and mine. Go back ! " 

The train started back with a jerk, as if the lever had been pulled 
in panic. In a moment two or three persons came excitedly through 
the smoking-car, from the engine, running and ejaculating. 

" What s ahead there ? " Lloyd cried. 

" Robbers, or lunatics, or Indians. Things with guns anyhow ! " 
one of the railroad men replied, hastening on. 

Quantrell jumped into the aisle and ran to the front platform 
near the engine and looked ahead. 

Three men, as they seemed to be, lined a railing in the bridge. 
Bright metal shone in their hands. The light was afforded by a 
lantern in the hands of a big colored man who had advanced beyond 
the engine and seemed more courageous or less impressionable than 
the whites. 

"Halt! halt! halt!" 

In rapid succession and with high nervous meaning had come 
these words from the obstruction ahead. 

JA YHA WKERS. \ \ 3 

"Who s you?" hoarsely replied the great negro Heywocd, 
slightly moving back. " Who you a-haltin ? Free man, I am ! " 

" Halt ! halt ! " 

" Sha n t halt for no such damned rascals. Free man " 

"Boom ! " 

A loud report rang through the bridge, which made Lloyd turn 
and look at his own gun, to see if it had not been accidentally dis 

Before he could look from the platform to the track again, a hu 
man cry, so piteous, so long, so profound, came from close beside 
him, that it rang in his ears for years after this night. 

It was the cry extorted by a mortal wound in the first violent 
incursion into the house of life. 

The negro, still clinging to his lamp, was running over the bridge- 
ties in such terror as to put his late defiance and tardy retirement 
to the blush. The train was also backing rapidly. As soon as the 
starlight came down upon the platform again, Quant rell leaped 

" What is it, Hey wood ? " he called to the negro, whose face ex 
pressed in outlines and dim eyeballs an agony insupportable. 

" Death ! " answered the negro, staggering on. 

"There -there s the man who shot him!" exclaimed the con 
ductor of the train, indicating an agile figure which, between a walk 
and a slide, came out of the bridge and seemed to have some short 
weapon in the blanket he was wrapped in. As this figure went 
rapidly toward the armory-gate, Lloyd Quantrell raised his gun and 
fired upon it. yet with the want of aim which comes from an uncer 
tain conviction. His mind was dazed, too, by a suspicion that he 
had seen that youthful figure before. 

The moment Lloyd fired, two shots from the armory-gate re 
plied to his own, and one of them cut a strand from his hair. 

" At last ! " Quantrell spoke, coolly, " I have seen something that 
came very near changing my destiny for life ! " 

He put the railroad building and hotel between him and the 
armory. The passengers were now generally alarmed, and were 
peeping around the corner of the thin rim of buildings between the 
railroad platform and the armory-yard. A water-tank for the loco 
motives was at this corner, and some of the hotel people or passen 
gers were exchanging shots from this cover with a group of people 
who stood in the armory-yard around a small low building near the 


gate. These people, whatever they might be, were distinctly heard 
loading their guns. 

" Come away from that corner and tank ! " Lloyd exclaimed. 
"Those robbers are firing rifle-balls that will-go through these thin 

" You think they are robbers ? " asked a very straight, clean- 
ribbed man with a thoughtful but not at all excited countenance, 
turning on Lloyd. 

" Of course. Foreigners, I reckon, come to take the rest of our 
liberties. They can t be Indians, so they must be robbers ! " 

" O papa ! robbers ? Isn t it romantic ! Such mountains, too ! 
Such nature ! Oh, let us stay here all night and see what they 

A large, enthusiastic, handsome girl was sitting at the open 
window of a passenger-coach. She looked at Lloyd with a beaming 
countenance and a certain fine energy of impulse. 

"Surely there is a hotel here, sir," she addressed Lloyd. " Can 
we not witness this unexpected tournament ? Oh, it is so advanta 
geous to be a man and see everything romantic ! " 

" Here is one poor man, dear miss, who will hardly agree with 
you," Ouantrell replied. " Hear the railroad porter s dying groans ! " 

They listened, and sighs like a sick child s came from the little 
station, and the words : 

" O Heywood ! what will yo wife say ? A exposin of your 
self, Heywood, when I should have been the man ! It twan t kyind 
of you, Heywood ! It twan t thoughtful ! What kin I do without 
you ? " 

" Po friend," the negro said, " look aftaw my chillen. Forgive 
me for my sassy tongue. It s got me in this trouble, mossta. Oh ! 
kill me I m dyin and I can t die ! " 

" There, Light ! " exclaimed the lithe, quiet man, looking at the 
girl. " You hear the real tones of romance ; the poor, sick notes of 
glory. It is the poor, helpless people, the women and the servants, 
who suffer for romantic ventures." 

" Oh, that is dreadful ! " said Miss Light ; " I supposed they 
died fighting gloriously. But, senator papa may they not be 
Indians ? We have seen the Indians in their beautiful eagles feath 
ers prepare for war. I suppose these robbers, as this gentleman says, 
must be foreigners Italians, or Spaniards, or Garibaldians in 
beautiful costumes ! " 

JA YHA WKERS. 1 1 5 

"Here is one, perhaps," replied the senator; "look at him, 
Light ! " 

A young man with a short gun in his hand, a rough, slouching 
hat on his head, coarse clothes, and a belt around him with weapons 
in it, appeared at the head of the train and called out, in a some 
what nasal tone : 

" Conductor, bring on that train ! Our commander has allowed 
you to cross the bridge and proceed." 

"That a robber?" Miss Light remarked; " why, he s a mere 
boy. He must be fooling you." 

"That s one of em," spoke the conductor; "I know that s 

" Give me your gun ! " exclaimed the aged railroad agent, run 
ning out and reaching for Lloyd s fowling-piece; "if that s one of 
those scoundrels, I want his life. He s killed my pore, faithful serv 
ant !" 

The young man, who was not fully revealed in the imperfect 
light of the train s windows, half raised his piece and said negligently 
but frankly : 

" Citizens are not allowed to carry guns ! We are in possession 
of this town, and mean no harm to peaceable people. Put that gun 
down ! " 

Lloyd got on the train, out of the way. 

" My friend," he said to the excited railroad agent, " I have shot 
my last load off. We must wait for daylight." 

"Who are you ? " cried the conductor again ; "we can t under 
stand you. What is your purpose in this town ? " 

"We want Liberty," spoke the young man, "and we intend to 
have it ! " 

" Oh, beautiful ! " exclaimed the senator s daughter at the win 
dow. " So bold, and such a boy ! If he only had some beautiful 
clothes ! " 

"He d look well in a good long shroud!" Lloyd Quantrell ex 
claimed, grinding his teeth. 

"I wont move my train," called the conductor; "one of the 
railroad s servants has been shot on that bridge. I am responsible 
for the lives of these passengers, and I am afraid to cross the 
bridge before daylight." 

The young man retired into the shadows of night like an appari 


The pointer-dog followed and indicated him with its instinct for 
an object doomed. 

" Will you oblige me with your father s name ? " Lloyd asked 
the communicative young lady. 

" Oh ! with pleasure. Mr. Edgar Pittson. We are just going 
to the capital for the first time. My father is a new senator from 
the West. I have never seen the East. If it continues as sublime 
and romantic as this, will it not be delightful ? Such mountains ! 
Such adventures ! Are they always occurring like this, sir ? " 

" Ever since I have been in these mountains," replied Lloyd, be 
tween excitement and amusement, " something wonderful has been 
taking place. Perhaps they wanted to surprise us," concluded 

The people on the train and the platform were all this while in 
the greatest agitation and wonder, while the town of Harper s Ferry 
was in absolute sleep. A doctor, whose office was at the station, 
alone had been aroused by the shooting, and he reported that the 
negro was dying. The ball, entering his back, had passed entirely 
through the body near the heart. 

" Gentlemen," whispered the doctor to Senator Pittson and 
Quantrell, " what can this midnight rebellion be ? We who live 
here fear it is a bold and strong attempt to rob the armory of the 
treasure-chest. Mechanics of all countries live here, and some of 
them may be very desperate characters." 

" Beautiful ! " exclaimed Miss Light Pittson, overhearing the 
doctor ; " what contrasts and heroes exist in the East \ Washing 
ton city must be full of such revolutions. How else could it be our 
capital ? " 

" Young gentleman," said the senator to Lloyd, " I have been 
wondering if this tmeute to-night can have anything to do with the 
Kansas troubles. I hope not, because the unjustifiable attempts to 
subjugate Kansas and give it to the slave system have entirely 
failed. She is on the threshold of the Union as a free State, and I 
hope one of my first duties at Washington will be to vote for her 
admission. It is for this reason that I would deprecate any such 
invasion of Virginia as some of our free-State bands have retaliated 
upon Missouri." 

He conversed as quietly on this dread subject as if he had been 
in his Western. settlement. 

Lloyd wondered, and remarked : 


" Have you seen anything to lead to that idea, sir ? I am igno 
rant of the Kansas troubles. The slavery question is a bore to me. 
I am enlisted in the Native American question." 

" I looked at that young man s gun just now. I think it is 
a Sharp s rifle, a new Philadelphia carbine, loading at the breech. 
A quantity of those rifles disappeared some time ago from one of 
our Western States and have not been found. The persons re 
sponsible for them fear some of the jay hawkers have got them." 

" Jayhawkers ? Are they something like our Blue Jays in Bal 
timore ? " 

" Yes," said the senator, smiling ; " they were free-State young 
men who got a taste of war and blood when the armed ruffians 
from Missouri and the South invaded Kansas, and they could not 
be composed to peace after the moral victory was won. They 
went hunting for an enemy. They felt that they had beaten both 
slavery and the United States Government which tried to foster it 
in Kansas. Some of them invaded Missouri and took slaves out 
and carried them to Canada." 

" Who did that, Senator Pittson ? " asked Lloyd, with a flushed 

" I forget whether it was Montgomery or Brown. I rather 
think it was Brown. He had lost a son or two when the Missouri- 
ans invaded Kansas. He won quite a battle out there at Ossawatto- 
mie. It seemed to bring out a latent pugnacity in him, entirely 
foreign to his long and steady life. Perhaps it unsettled a somewhat 
intense brain. Oh, my young friend ! war is very close to human 
society everywhere. It is like the rats in the sewers of towns; 
v/hole armies of them are hidden under the gentlest homesteads. 
It is most unwise for our more warlike Southern countrymen to 
bring the argument of force into the comparatively tranquil North ; 
for the war-rat is under* every human skin, and at a pin s prick it 
may come forth in eruption." 

They were walking up the platform as they spoke, and stopped 
to see the silent audacity of these unknown strangers, who guarded 
the two bridges, sentineled the street-corners, communicated with 
each other patrol-fashion, still held the armory gate and yard and 
the arsenal, and all this while the town of which they were masters 
slept, with its nearly five thousand people, in the funnel of the black 
mountains, like dumb animals in a stall. 

" This is indeed wonderful," remarked the senator. " My daugh- 


ter, you perceive, has read romantic novels ; but what is taking place 
here is a little more curious than any such reading of mine. These 
strangers can not be a foreign enemy. Virginia can hardly have 
seized the General Government s armory. Mere thieves would not 
take such chances, for, when the brawny armorers in that town 
awaken, Death will keep a holiday here ! Do you know what I 
think I shall do ? " 

Lloyd looked at him a moment by the variable lights of the 
environment, and saw something in the senator s long, fine, quiet 
face, which, in sympathy with Lloyd s own temperament, educed 
the reply : 

" Yes, senator ! You think you will go down to that gate with 
your life in your hand and ask the miscreants there for an explana 

The young senator he seemed hardly forty looked also at 
Lloyd with mild-eyed penetration. 

" How did you guess that ? " he said. " But you were right. I 
am a fresh senator, without record or much ambition. I might save 
life by interposing here, while night and sleep keep this thing yet a 
nightmare dream. I can say, at least, I am a senator of the United 
States " 

A loud, long, heart-searching wail came from the dying negro s 

" Sir, you shall not go to that gate ! " spoke Quantrell. " Be 
cause you are a senator you shall not go. Because, also, you are a 
father ! I will go myself. A prophecy is already on my head that 
I shall see that to-night which will change my destiny." 

" Magnificent ! " exclaimed a voice at his elbow. " O papa, I 
could not stay and hear that poor man. So I have been fortunate 
to hear this gentleman s gallant offering. Isn t he a hero ? " 

" I fear, Light, he has been reading Monsieur Dumas and Mr. 
Ains worth, like you, when he speaks of a prophecy and his destiny." 

" I felt there was something like myself in him like you, too, 
papa when I spoke to him so unconventionally. Something quiet 
and unflinching. Something like Robin Hood and Fra Diavolo. 
Who does he resemble that we know ? Of course he shall go and 
demand of the robbers, What ho ! " 

Both Quantrell and the senator had to laugh heartily at the un 
affected enthusiasm of this large, somewhat masculine-statured 
Western girl, who might have been eighteen, but was cast in that 

JA YHA WKERS. \ \ g 

mold between the handsome and the noble that is commonly called 

" Miss Light," Lloyd said, joyously, " don t try to make an im 
pression on me ! You might succeed, and that would be wrong ; 
for I have only this day engaged myself to the prettiest maid in 
these mountains." 

" Splendid ! Romantic ! A hunter, a hero, a lover, everything 
noble in one ! Oh, he must go and challenge these robbers, papa ! " 

As they walked along, talking and speculating, and waiting for 
an opportunity, or for some decision, on the subject of these maraud 
ers, the sky gradually became overspread with clouds and it grew 
cold and chilling. The robbers within the gates had built a fire in 
the small square building there, and could be seen stooping before 
it, or counseling together. 

" Are you an abolitionist ? " Lloyd asked Senator Pittson. 

"No, no ; I am a Republican." 

" A Black Republican ? " asked Ouantrell, suspiciously. 

"That s a mere nickname. The few abolitionists also call us 
names, because we will not assault slavery in the old States, or 
break up the Union, so dear, I hope, to everybody. The Repub 
licans merely reassert the doctrine of nature and of the founders of 
the republic, that slaver)- is a colonial thing, not in the blood and 
circulation of our system, and therefore not to be allowed in the ex 
ternal, new domain of the country. It has taken the noble empire 
of Texas, by colonizing there, and using American patriotic ambition 
to acquiesce in the evil. It shall not so colonize and pervert the 
noble empire of the Missouri. With pity for our countrymen tied 
up in old slavery, we shall not pity ourselves if we give it our North 
ern heritage." 

" It seems to me, sir," Quantrell dubiously remarked, " that if 
slavery is so bad a thing, it is in danger from your people every 
where. Do you think a Northern man is as brave as a Southern 
one ? " 

" Not as fierce, but I think as brave. Not as decided, but I 
think more persevering. They are not as conscious of their princi 
ples as your friends are, because theirs are older and apparently 
forgotten, while the tremors of slaver} have raised new and glitter 
ing doctrines which must perish if liberty is to live. When the 
great power of Britain was exerted to suppress the young American 
Republic, the only people they never overran were New England 


and the Alleghany mountaineers. King s Mountain echoed to 
Bunker Hill. Since that day, has come the West, the new power 
on this planet, I believe ! " 

They went in silence to watch the mysterious people again, and 
Light Pittson cried : 

" Why, look ! Papa, they are carrying spears. See how they 
flash against that firelight ! This is glorious ! When are you going 
to challenge them, sir ? " 

" This is a good time," Quantrell replied ; " I see the gate has 
been opened to admit wagons and horses. Please keep my gun 
and dog, Senator Pittson ! " 

People crowded around to see what Quantrell, who had become 
a man of leadership in the eyes of the passengers, meant now 
to do. 

" I don t like to see you go down there alone," the senator said. 
" It appears too much like going vicariously for me, who suggested 

" Let me tie this ribbon to your jacket, sir," Miss Light ex 
claimed. " I took it from my neck. Some lady always crowned 
the brave knight." 

She tied the blue ribbon upon him in real admiration. 

" A moment," called Senator Pittson, as Lloyd started down 
some rickety steps from the platform. " If anything happens to 
you, who is to receive your property ? " 

"My father, Abel Ouantrell, in Baltimore." 

" And you are " 

"Lloyd Quantrell, his only son." 

" Stop ! That man must not go. I command you not to do my 
errand ! " 

The placid temperament of the senator was all lost now. He 
attempted to rush after Quantrell. 

" Hold that man ! He has a family upon the train. If he fol 
lows me and exposes himself, I shall lose my life for him," Quan 
trell replied. 

The train-hands and passengers seized the senator and pressed 
him back. 

Quantrell kissed his hand to Miss Light, and bounded down the 

" Oh, what a gentleman of romance ! " she spoke. 

" He is a gentleman," said Senator Pittson ; " I had heard other- 


wise. Dear Light," he turned to his daughter, " do you say your 
prayers ? " 

" Oh, yes, papa. 

" Pray for that young man as if he were my brother ! " 


THE armory- gate was open wide, and a carriage drawn by two 
horses had already passed in, and four horses, pulling a large farm- 
wagon, had stopped in the gateway. 

" Jump out, you colored men, and take a spear apiece. We re 
short of hands for a spell yet, and want you to do guard duty. Be 
lively ! " 

Certain negro men, impelled by others who carried guns, 
dropped clumsily out of the wagon and almost immediately were 
seen carrying sharp things on poles. The same nasal, military 
voice continued : 

" Get out here, colonel ! You, too, old man ! Fetch in your 
son ! All report yonder, to the commander ! " 

Lloyd looked at the man, endeavoring in the moving crowd to 
distinguish him, but, before he could be satisfied, the same voice 
exclaimed at Ouantrell s ear : 

" What ! You captured, too, minstrel ? " 

The young hunter turned, and, recognizing the face, he spoke in 
astonishment : 

" Stevens ? " 

" Anything you like. Come right to me ! Don t you put down 
your hands, or I ll tickle your heart ! " 

Stevens the same he had drunk with at the spring-house, it 
seemed thrust a pistol at Lloyd Quantrell s body. There was no 
doubt about his earnestness, and Ouantrell walked at once to the 
pistol s muzzle, saying there : 

" Then you re one of these robbers ? " 

" Anything you like. You re my prisoner. Go lang there, now ! " 

He pointed to some low buildings, and the gates behind him 
closed with a jangling sound. In the same direction had gone the 


other persons ; and Lloyd, getting the instinct of obedience from his 
finely strung automatic captor, walked promptly up to the front of 
the nearest building. 

It had three doors, and the farther door opened into a separate 
and smaller apartment, which contained only a bench and a stove, 
and some persons huddling by the fire. 

The larger room was nearly square, and contained two engines 
to suppress fires low engines on wheels, with hand levers at the 
sides to be worked by double rows of men and leather hose and a 
hose-cart ; and also axes and other appurtenances of a fire company 
hung up under the open-beamed roof. The floor and walls were of 
brick, and were littered with arms, fagots, tools, and blankets, has 
tily distributed there. 

Ouantrell walked uninvited into the engine-house amid blacks 
and whites, all armed and standing listlessly or nervously about, 
and he picked up the fireman s horn : 

" Put her right in now ! " shouted Lloyd ; " run her for all she s 
worth ! Liberty s the bird ! " 

"That s the case to-night," grimly spoke Stevens, "but you ll 
cut no more loud capers like that, friend Quantrell ! This engine- 
room is for the troops, white and black ; you must go into the watch 
man s part with the prisoners." 

Two fagots were burning in black men s hands in the engine- 

" Hold on ! " Lloyd exclaimed ; " what are these things ? " 

The negro he seized the fagot from gave it up with mouth ajar, 
and in the other hand held awkwardly a spear the very fisherman s 
gig, as the burning fagot showed, that Ouantrell had twice seen in 
the Maryland mountains. 

" Ashby," he said, looking up at the negro s face, " you here, and 
a robber ? " 

" I spec so," the negro hoarsely urged ; " dey say I m one of em. 
I don t know." 

The fagot was seen to be splints of hard and soft wood bound 
together ; the fisherman s gig was the pattern of many spears seen 
in black men s hands or leaning against the wall of the engine-house 
bright, glittering spears, too small, sharp, and narrow for display. 

"Stevens," spoke Lloyd, "what does this mean? Spears 
slaves ? Are you arming negroes ? " 

" Arming everybody ! " cried Stevens, with a cool imprecation. 



"Slavery is war and everlasting captivity. We ve armed the under 
dog in the fight. The boot shall be upon the other leg." 

The blood left Ouantrell s lips and head, to hear this hard avowal, 
which seemed to the Marylander like hollow blasphemy, unmeant 
and merely pretended. 

"You will need an army, my indomitable friend, to carry out 
that idea." 

" We have got it," Stevens exclaimed, in something between 
mockery and rapture ; " see it hurrying yonder in the spirit realm 
the cloud- bannered army of the Lord ! " 

As he raised his hand toward the small, wind-driven clouds troop 
ing down the pallid gulf of sky between the black banks of mount 
ains, Stevens seemed in a species of ecstasy, yet cold, like fishes dis 
porting ; and the weapons belted around him pistols and a knife 
shone coldly red in the flare of the fagots which burned, alarmed 
and drooping, like some of the negro robbers ; yet others of these 
negroes had the appearance of boldness, like all the whites in the 
band, and, taking in the scene an instant as carefully as his stirred 
feelings would allow, Quantrell observed : 

" Stevens, if you re a lunatic, you re a good one. And I suppose 
you are the commander of these people ? " 

" I ? " Stevens answered, self-scornfully. " Why, our commander 
is a man so great, I am not fit to be his orderly sergeant ! I happen, 
through want of better recruits, to be third in the command, but I m 
willing to be the last." 

" Who is your captain ? " 

" Come, you shall see him ; for he is talking to the prisoners." 

As they stepped out of the cold engine-room, the night wind 
came in a shriek down the long, grassy corridor between the great 
armories, bringing some autumnal leaves from the regular lines of 
trees, and, in the softened wind-wail which followed, was blended a 
dog s inquiring howl. 

" Albion ! " spoke Lloyd, as his dog came with obsequious glad 
ness to his feet. 

The narrow watch-room contained men standing and others 
sitting, and all trying to get some warmth from the stove, for the 
weather was unusually keen for October on the Potomac. A voice 
of somewhat nervous tension, and of metallic sounding in that brick- 
walled corridor, spoke up from among the group : 

" Your name will be a help to me, sir. Are you his grandson ? " 



" Ah great-grandson, captain ; descended, sah, from his young 
est brother, Charles, sah." 

The person standing was a portly man who seemed endeavoring 
to rally his spirits into some complacency as he spoke these sentences 
in the nearly dark place. 

" Lewis Washington, great-grand-nephew of General George 
Washington," repeated the voice of hirn sitting, which thrilled 
through Lloyd Quantrell and made him turn pale. 

"And this is General Washington s sword, captain," spoke up 
a prompt little voice. " I had the tact, captain, to make him show 
it to me a month ago, and I said, We shall want that, for prestige ! 

" And don t forget, captain, that Frederick the Great gave it to 
old Washington," spoke up Stevens, over the heads of those stand 
ing ; " he said it was from the oldest general in Europe to the 
greatest of the age. We think another great man can wear it 
again ! " 

" No flattery, Stevens ! " exclaimed the metallic voice, low among 
the huddling people. " Colonel Washington, I will exchange you as 
soon as it is daylight, and you can see to write an order, for any 
able-bodied negro whatever. Your great ancestor s sword I will 
fight with for liberty again. Did you ever hear of me ? " 

" Ah, no, captain, sah," the voice of the portly man answered, 
quite subdued. 

" Then, sir, you are not as familiar as General Washington with 
the great occurrences of your times. I have fought for American 
freedom in greater battles than Lexington and Concord. To-night 
I have come to make Virginia free, and travel on this mountain-line 
as far as God will let me march, to startle slavery in the vales. I 
went to Kansas by the trail and sowed my children s blood there, 
and came away with a reward offered for my head. I shall go to 
Texas by the pike, or make my head a premium again. I am 

The speaker had risen and come forward, and a way had been 
cleared for him. 

" I know you now, old fox !" Lloyd Quantrell interposed, stand 
ing at the door by the light of one of the torches held by an armed 
negro "you are Isaac Smith ! " 

Quantrell had already identified the voice, and now he saw the 
gnarled and bearded visage of the mountaineer farmer stand in the 
watch-house door, dressed as before, except in two particulars : a 
great gray army overcoat with a cape attached dropped from his 



shoulders, and his head was covered with a heavy cap of wild-ani 
mal skin, rimmed with shining leather. In his hand was an un 
cocked carbine. He looked to be a rustic gunner or teamster out, 
betimes, for game or work before the break of day. 

" I was Isaac Smith for a stratagem," the old man replied. 
" Now I am John Brown, and in that name I am come to cleanse 
with blood, if necessary, the crime of slavery from the land." 

" You, Pop Smith crazy Pop Smith are you Brown of Kan 

" John Brown of Black Jack ; Brown of Ossawattomie ! I see 
you have more intelligence, Mr. Quantrell, than Colonel Washing 
ton and these gentlemen." 

He pronounced the " John " long and nasal, like Jo-aw-en, 
dwelling upon it in that Indian guttural which abides in the reso 
nant nomenclature of the land. A second torch held by a negro 
revealed his Indian figure clearer. 

Between his old army-cloak skirts a belt revealed pistols, and a 
knife in its sheath, and the dress-sword hilt of the great Frederick 
thrust in the belt. 

" There he stands, Quantrell," Stevens exclaimed, " lighted up 
by two native citizens of Virginia, both of African descent, and I 
think you ll never forget him." 

Quantrell had to look, for fascination and fear, and the plain, 
nearly aged figure he observed by the directions, was illuminated by 
the torches of that large mulatto man, who had seized his gun at 
the mountain farm, and the sad-cast countenance cf Ashby, the 

The dog Albion, snarling once loudly at his recent chastiser, and 
crouching next to " point him " well, as if at some curious kind of 
game, finally leaped and gamboled, in the apparent idea that a gun 
ning party was about to start and take him along. 

" He sees doves," thought Quantrell, in a moment of horror, 
"and doves will be left to mourn this expedition." 

Quantrell next saw at his elbow the small, stooping figure of 

" Why, Captain Cook," Lloyd exclaimed, " are you a prisoner, 
too ? " 

" Ha ! that s good ! " answered the childish little man. " Don t 
you know I m a captain in the provisional government? I took the 
slave census of this county for Captain Brown. I spotted all the 


big slaveholders, Washington and Allstadt, and now I m going into 
Maryland to arrest our neighbor, Mr. Byrne." 

" You treacherous spaniel ! " Quantrell exclaimed, while his dog 
snapped at Cook s legs. " To think I let you play on Katy s accor 
dion ! " 

" Take care ! " spoke Cook, cocking his gun. "You make the 
mistake they made in Kansas about me that I m a little boy, and 
not a shooter. Sir, my brother-in-law is the Democratic Governor 
of Indiana, hating abolitionists like poison. But I m a jayhawker 
to the heart ! " 

" What s this ? " exclaimed a harsher voice, " prisoners quarrel 
ing with our officers ? This gunner-spy here ? Go in there ! " 

It was the dark, raven-haired Kagi, the picture of a bandit, and 
he and Cook menaced Quantrell with their short rifles and urged 
him toward the watchman s chamber. 

" Oliver ! Watson ! Captain Brown ! " Lloyd called in the excite 
ment of rage even more than fear, " are these cursed abolitionists 
to abuse and confine me ? " 

" We re all abolitionists, Mr. Quantrell," spoke Oliver Brown, at 
Quantrell s side. 

" We glory in the name," said the voice of Watson Brown, at 
the other side. 

" Pop Smith ! Captain Brown ! " 

Lloyd had turned to the old Kansas chief, who was giving some 
directions at the wagon side. 

"Mr. Quantrell," observed that person, severely, looking up, "I 
let you go at the farm, when my officers wanted to take your life. 
You were instructed, sir, to keep off the streets. The first thing we 
hear of you is a shot from your fowling-piece at my son Watson, 
which I returned. The next shot I fire at you will be at closer 
quarters, sir ! Then you walk into my headquarters and blow the 
fire-horn, sir. Let me have no more of your rowdy capers, but go 
in there among the prisoners ! " 

As John Brown spoke, the fagots flashed into his eyes, and 
something of a wild beast sparkled there. 

Quantrell turned and fled into the narrow part of the engine- 

For an instant the fickle torches shone upon the fresh, un 
tarnished spears of moving negroes, and low, firm, military com 
mands were heard upon the night, and then the door closed and all 


was dark except the reddening clay of the little stove and dark sky 
coming in at a large round window above the watch-house door. 

He heard a robber sentry pacing on the ground without, and the 
call of " Halt ! " or " Who comes there ? " 

Lloyd leaned against the door in actual terror not merely the 
fear of death, but the mental paralysis following these startling dis 

Not thirty-six hours had passed since he met this resolute 
bandit on the mountains. Now he realized everything. 

The strange and mystic sermon of Isaac Smith on the mountain- 
top, upon war and military strategy, had been the personal cogita 
tion of John Brown, the Border murderer, upon the campaign he 
meant next day to begin in Virginia. 

The fisherman s " gig " carried in the mountains by Smith s 
sons was one of many spears, to arm negro slaves, who would be 
unfamiliar with more complex weapons. 

The boast of Isaac Smith, that he owned a certain number of 
negroes, meant that John Brown controlled them for a war against 
their masters. 

The reflections of Smith on Broderick s death were incitements of 
John Brown to his sons to revenge blood, shed by pro-slaver} r men. 

The mountain farm of Isaac Smith and sons was the rendezvous 
for a vast recruitment of abolitionists and negroes to drop upon 
Virginia in a single night from the great Northern State close by, 
and to aid John Brown, the fanatical bandit, to capture the tens of 
thousands of stands of muskets in Harper s Ferry, and arm a 
mighty insurrection ! 

Now Quantrell could understand the suspicious and even- harsh 
treatment of himself at the rude mountain farm, his examination by 
Kagi and Stevens, and the deadly danger he had been in, as a sup 
posed spy, entering their lair in the very instant of their descent 
upon a peaceful State. 

He felt with agony and wonder that if he had discarded, before 
he came to that farm, Katy Bosler s poor little accordion, and had 
brought no music to be his intercessor, his body might now be 
lying in the upland thickets for the mountain crows to pick. 

This dark and superstitious Kagi was, no doubt, the second to 
Ossawattomie Brown in command, and had power of life and death 
over Lloyd and every innocent prisoner. 

As these coincidences and emotions rushed together, the young 


man felt not wholly a sense of despair, but of mental occupation 
too great and oppressive for his trifling- and heedless mind, to 
which all his youth had been like a schoolboy s truant day, spent 
amid the wild haws and mountain plums, and by the rivulets, ston 
ing the birds. In a day and a night he had come to the great 
crises of love, religious conviction, marriage engagement, fear of 
death, and prophecy. 

Had he yet seen that which could change his destiny ? 

This question he asked himself slowly, and the sense of fear 
slowly dissipated from his clearing and cooling brain. 

He felt again as he had in the saloon, but a few rods distant, 
when he measured physical strength and address with the soul-driv 
ers and slave-catchers there, and at every blow had rejoiced and 
delighted in the perfect clairvoyance of his mind ; yet, with this trans 
ference of purpose and returning courage, came also a cold, appetiz 
ing instinct, like the shark s, for human prey, and he almost smiled 
out of his late excitement, though he ground his teeth. 

"If I ever get out of here," Lloyd Quantrell muttered, "death, 
death to all abolitionists ! " 

He felt so nonchalantly that he had found somebody to distinctly 
hate, that he softly, musically, forgetfully, uttered the rooster s crow 
of victory, as in the saloon when he smote the Logans down. 

A dog barked at his feet. 

" Ha, my faithful Albion, you here? " said Lloyd aloud, stooping 
and lifting his dog in his arms. " Bark again, and I will crow again, 
and they shall be our challenge : Death, death to abolitionists ! " 

The dog replied right earnestly. The young man, with spirits 
fully recovered, crowed clear and loud. 

In a minute the chanticleers of Harper s Ferry were heard re 
sponding, showing that it was nearly morn. 



THE watch-house was about twenty-four feet deep and half as 
wide, and had windows on all sides except in the brick partition, 
which was a solid wall, and which left the engine-house portion 


nearly square. The windows in this structure were generally of an 
arched form, very high above the ground, being, indeed, segments 
of the brick arches which composed the walls, and the watch-house 
door was uniform with the two doors in the engine-house portion 
a broad double door with a wicket in it. 

These high windows showed the dark sky, and from the room- 
corners showed the blacker mountain shoulders and perhaps some 
few garrets of houses up the cliff. In one of these garrets a candle 
burned, and Lloyd wondered if there the infant was not being born 
whose baby hand had pushed down Jefferson s Rock and fulfilled the 

His mind reverted to the Bunker love-feast and that other babe 
which had been born in a stable like this ; for the watch-house might 
have originally been the stall of horses to pull the fire-engine. 
Across the way was the inn of Nativity, perhaps, with travel 
ers delayed, going up to their capital. "And here," concluded 
Quantrell, "may be Herod s soldiery seeking the young child s 

A quiet awe fell upon him like the cold water of the Bunker 
baptism chilling the convert. He thought of Katy s prayer for his 
soul, and her solemn words inclined him to devotion now : 

" God gif me this soul, and let it drink thy precious blood ! " 

He put his hand to his eyes and repeated the first prayer he had 
ever made with deep sincerity, though the words had been his task 
at school : 

" Parce nobis, Jesu ! Libera nos a malo /" 

In asking mercy and deliverance from evil, he bowed his head 
and added, " God bless Katy ! " 

The dog began to scratch the door and to whine. 

Quantrell touched something at his button-hole the ribbon of 
Miss Light Pittson. 

At once the phantom of Katy Bosler seemed to disappear, and 
the ardent and noble youth of the lady whose admiration he had so 
candidly received, awoke a more worldly flutter in his breast. 

" Something makes me want to see that fine girl once more," 
Quantrell thought ; " she called me her knight. Her father is a sen 
ator ! " 

The pointer-dog leaped upon him fondly and touched his cold 
muzzle to Lloyd s face. 

" If I had not seen Katy first, Albion," mused Lloyd, " I should 

3 o 


have fallen in love with Light. But the light in Katy s eyes out 
shines hers. 1 

He turned and walked back into the cell or corridor. 

Talking in low tones together were several prisoners, awed and 
suspicious, and iney looked up at Quantrell by the stove s poor 
light, and some greeted him with a thin laugh and others ceased to 

" Captain, ah : sah ! " spoke a portly man whom Lloyd guessed 
to be Colonel Washington, and who had begun his sentence with 
courtly intentions, but judged it best to round up without saying 

" I m not one of the captains," Lloyd answered ; " my uncle 
Quantrell keeps a slave-pen at Baltimore, and I guess that ought to 
be guarantee for me, with you men, at least." 

" Ah ! yes sah ! " said the colonel, but hardly more considerate, 
as if his suspicions had been satisfied but not his scruples. 

" What s yourn ? " asked an old man who had been sitting, and 
who started up and looked at Lloyd unsteadily. " Bitters ? Gin, 
did you say ? Tansy ? Fi penny bit fi penny bit." 

" Watty ! Watty ! " interposed another man of age, but less in 
firm, " you re not tending bar this morning. You re tuk, Watty ! 
He s a little off his Americanus, sir ; I mean he s not just right in 
his head, since he s been tuk." 

" Fi penny bit ! Come ag in ! " muttered the old bar-keeper, set 
tling to his bench 

" And what are you, my friend ? " Quantrell asked of the third 

" Me ? Oh, I m the armory bell-ringer. I ve rung that bell thirty- 
five year. I never missed but of a Sunday and a holiday. Dear 
me ! ef Cap n Brown don t let me go ring it at six o clock, I ll go off 
of my Americanus. What 11 old Ball say ? " 

" Oh, yes, what will old Ball say ? " cried half a dozen voices. 
" Old Ball 11 come and git tuk." 

" Ah ! yes sah ! " coincided Colonel Washington, not yet set 
tled that he ought to say something. In the pause, after waiting 
for him, the bar-keeper mumbled : 

" Medford, Jamaikey, or Santycroo ? He-he ! All same bottle, 
gen lemen. Fi penny bit fi penny bit ! Come ag in." 

" Watty has to git up fur the airly trade at the bar," explained 
the bell-ringer. " You see they ll all git tuk them airly birds this 


mornin ; fur they ll come to git their drams, an Cap n Brown 11 git 
em all." 

" An git ole Ball, too ha ! ha ! " shouted the great body of the 

" Dear me ! " spoke the bell-ringer, again absently, " ef I can t 
ring the bell at the minute, may be I ll git discharged. That would 
set me clar off of my Amerzcanus." 

The door opened, and three more prisoners were brought in, fol 
lowed by three of the Kansas party, whom Lloyd identified to be 
Kagi, young Ned Coppock, from Iowa, and Newby, the handsome 
mulatto man who had been rude to Ouantrell. 

" Cold night for October," Kagi said. 

" Colder morning for you ! " Ouantrell spoke up, with deep mean 
ing and dislike. 

" Blathering yet, are you ? " Kagi replied, his cocked gun across 
his lap, leaning to the stove. 

" That worm is crawling toward you," Quantrell said, remember 
ing the man s pallor and superstition. 

Kagi showed the same ghastly skin for a minute amid his 
long, dead hair, and then spoke in a tone of enforced quiet : 

" Then that star is drawing near me." 

He looked at Lloyd with a determination in which high fanati 
cism was blent, and without further anger. 

" No quarrelin in the bar, gen lemen," old Watty, the bar-keeper, 
started up ; " drink with the house ! Whisky ? Ahalt s or Hor- 
sey s? Lemon-peel? Fi penny bit fi penny bit ! Come ag in." 

" There, now, see what you II come to ! " Kagi observed, look 
ing straight at Ouantrell and indicating old Watty with his head. 
"Whisky will fetch you there. Slavery and whisky are distilled 
out of each other." 

" Did you ever drink whisky ? " asked Lloyd. 

" No." 

" Did you ever have a slave ? " 

" I m not that kind of a serpent." 

" That s just what I supposed," said Lloyd ; " you re an ignorant 

" Ah, sah sah ! " put in Colonel Washington, a little apprehen 
sive of a murder, and about to say something, but reconsidering it. 

" Washington," spoke Kagi, " if you was worthy of the only ce 
lebrity in your family, you would have them pistols of Lafayette and 



the sword of the King- of Prooshey, and be leading this expedeetion, 
instead of throwing it on to an old saint, like Captain Brown. Free 
dom might build you up, as slavery has about buried you ! " 

" Ah, sah ! " Colonel Washington exclaimed, with an instant s 
asperity, and then after a pause concluded with great docility " in 
deed, sah, captain ! " 

" Solgers," spoke up the bell-ringer, " what 11 ole Ball do to me ? 
what 11 the sup rintindon do ? I must ring that bell, or I ll go off of 
my Americanus clar." 

" Not this mornin ! " spoke up the bright-faced, negligently- 
dressed Coppock. " You and us and all can ring it, when slavery is 
over. Then, I calkelate, it ll be glad enough to ring itself." 

" He-he ! " chuckled a prisoner, " ole Ball when he s tuk, what 11 
he say ? " 

A low laugh, somewhat suppressed by awe, went around the 
humbler set of prisoners, and old Watty, who had been dozing, 
started up, saying : 

" What s yourn? I m gwyn to close the bar and git some sleep. 
Hollin ? Ole Tom ? Peppermint ? Be quick ! Fi penny bit fi penny 
bit ! " 

"Ned," said Ouantrell, familiarly, to young Coppock, "you re 
not a bad-looking fellow. Don t you know you ll be hanged for this 
freak to-night ? What got you into it ? " 

" Common sense, I calkelate ! " Coppock answered, amiably. 
" If I saw you working and spending the sweat of your brow for a 
man who stood over you with a whip and didn t pay you wages, 
wouldn t it be my duty to interfere ? Wouldn t you interfere for me, 
oppressed like that ? I think you would." 

" Not for a nigger," answered Lloyd Ouantrell. 

" I didn t see no exceptions made against negroes in my Bible," 
Coppock spoke, unexcitedly. " Nor in my Declaration of Independ 
ence, neither ! Captain Brown he was ready to throw his life in. 
So I throwed in mine ! " 

Coppock tightened his belt, full of arms, which he had loosened 
while warming, looked at the breech-loading of his gun, and started 

" What do you think of my being heah ? " 

The voice was that of the fine-looking but fierce mulatto man, 
and he was looking right at Ouantrell, who replied with indignation : 

" I think you will stay here, when you get your deserts." 


" Thank you," said the man, armed like a Turk, with pistols, dirk, 
and small, cunning rifle. " I know you mean I ought to die heah ; 
but you never told as much truth in yo life. Heah, in the county 
of Jefferson, I was born. So was Mr. Kagi s folks. The paymas 
ter s clerk of this armory is in the family that owned me. I run 
away to be a free man ! I left behind me a wife I love as much as 
you kin love yo sweetheart, God knows that ! She s had nine 

He stopped, still fierce, but trembling at the throat, as if agony 
was close behind his audacity. 

" Don t cry, now," Lloyd said ; " I can feel for you." 

" I can t cry," spoke the man, with a proud intensity. " I come 
heah to fight, not to cry. These rocks around Harper s Ferry, I s 
seen so many years, is full of crows. Not a black crow that makes 
his nest in them rocks won t fight for his young against the eagles 
that tries to eat them. Do you think I could stay yonder in Ohio 
when my little childern called me heah, and Captain Brown called 
me, too ? I had to be a man ! " 

" Oh, yes ! " exclaimed Watty, the bar-keeper, starting up, " I 
reckon I ll sell a nigger a drink ! Brandy? (good enough for you !) 
Tansy? Fi penny bit fi penny bit " 

" Where is your wife now ? " Lloyd Quantrell inquired, interested, 
notwithstanding his repulsion. 

Newby, the mulatto, hesitated, and a furious scowl came upon 
his brow. 

" It s not my shame, nor hers," he continued ; " it s the shame of 
this infamous slavery ! She s got another family of childern by her 
master s son, and his and mine will both be slaves, unless I make 
them free." 

Unable longer to suppress his sensibilities and excitement, the 
spirited mulatto arose and disappeared into the night. 

" What do you think of that, Colonel Washington ? " asked Kagi, 
turning his strong, almost gloomy countenance upon the chief pris 
oner. " Is that man merely an intruder in the land of his birth? Or 
has he here rights strengthened by wrongs injuries which would 
make you die for shame, or fight for shame ? " 

" Captain, never did I hea such rebellious and unconstitutional 
opinions advanced, sah ah, sah ! " 

The legatee of the Father of his Country had reconsidered his 
reply before he made it. 



Kagi also departed, and Ouantrell asked Colonel Washington 
what he expected Smith, or Brown, would do with his prisoners. 

" Sah," answered the colonel, with a deep outburst of feeling, 
" they ll sacrifice us all ! Men with no respect, sah, for the Constitu 
tion, sah, can have no respect for human life or the ten command 
mentsah, sah ! " 

The colonel was cut short by the entrance of William Thomp 
son, the chief outlaw s connection. 

" Mr. Ouantrell," said this young man, " there s a lady on the 
train our chief has stopped, who wants to know why the cars can t 
proceed. Her father has took sick." 

" Light Pittson ! " exclaimed the prisoner ; " she asked me to do 
her a service. William, you must get me permission to go. It is a 
woman, dear to me already." 

" Some of our superior officers will have to give you leave, Mr. 
Quantrell. I m only a lieutenant." 

" Go see Captain Brown for me, or Captain Stevens ! You may 
want me, William Thompson, when you will have no other friend 
in the world. Do this, and then I will hear your call ! " 

" I should like to do anything right, sir. But here is Captain 

Stevens entered, and Quantrell addressed him with insinuating 
heartiness : 

" Cap, why do you keep that train, full of innocent passengers, 
standing frightened and tired all night ? It s got the mail. You 
might as well be robbing the mail as to be alarming all those 
females. The Government and the women will both resent it." 

" It s not my idee," said Stevens, shaking his head. " It wa n t 
in the plan of our campaign, neither. But here s the commander- 
in-chief ! " 

Isaac Smith, as Lloyd still named him, came in and looked 
around calmly, like one settled in mind by warlike responsibility. 

" What are you debating, Stevens, with the prisoners ? " he 

" There are passengers out yonder at the station," young Thomp 
son spoke, " who have sent me here to speak to Mr. Ouantrell and 
get them permission to proceed to their destination. They are 
hungry and some are sick. I don t see, father, why you keep them 
there. They ll only join against us." 

" Hasn t that train proceeded ? " the wiry, bearded bandit ex- 


claimed ; " I have been inspecting.the posts, and supposed it had 
gone on. Who stopped it ? " 

" Watson Brown and Stuart Taylor. You told them to let 
nothing cross the bridge." 

"It was my oversight and their mistake," the leader said, with 
a serious look. " All military orders ought to be obeyed, but with 
intelligence. I have been made to antagonize the Government." 

" And to murder a railroad hand a black man, too I have 
seen him dying, Pop Smith," Ouantrell spoke, clear and indignant. 
" You can not lose a moment in repairing a part of your offense. 
Senator Pittson is on that train with his family. He told me he sus 
pected you to be the unknown marauder here. His daughter has 
sent for me to come to their relief. We ll go, old man, together ! " 

Concluding kindly, as he had commenced sternly, Quantrell s 
suggestion was accompanied by a stride forward and a hand upon 
the old leader s arm. They walked into the night, and Brown or 
Smith went up to his guards and spoke : 

" Hazlett, Lehman, go find the conductor of that train one of 
you ; the other go order my son upon the bridge to let the train go 
safely past. I will myself guard it across the river. Bring your 
light here, my man ! " 

The negro Ashby, a little more at ease, came forward with the 
torch, and it shone upon a raw-boned, tall young man, ten years 
or more older than Quantrell, with red hair and dull, brown eyes. 
Quantrell remembered him long afterward by his name being de 
scriptive of the color of those forbidding hazel eyes Hazle-tt. 

" The conductor was too scared to go on when we told him," 
Hazlett said, slipping his carbine under his blanket, which was wound 
around his body. 

The other person, addressed as Lehman, was of black hair and 
bright, boyish face, hardly of citizen age. He measured Quantrell s 
strong form an instant and said : 

" Captain Brown, you don t want this man. Put him on the 
train and send him off ! " 

He gave a significant look to Lloyd, who had the opportunity to 
say to Lehman, also, soon afterward, upon the bridge : 

" I ll do you a good turn, my boy. Take your own advice, and 
never cross that bridge again." 

"And leave my captain and comrades?" the boy replied; "I ll 
leave my body on one of them rocks first ! " pointing to the river. 


This was after Quantrell had rejoined Senator Pittson s family 
upon the train, whither Brown or Smith allowed him to proceed, 
while looking for the conductor. 



THE train was nearly dark, as some of the passengers had blown 
out the candle and whale-oil lamps, so as not to attract the aim of 
rifles ; and, feeling his way along, Quantrell softly called : 

" Light ! " 

In an instant a woman met him and drew him to the vacant 
place upon her seat, and said : 

" My hero ! How noble of you ! Papa, mamma, here is Mr. 
Quantrell safe again." 

Quantrell took her hand, and in the darkness placed his other 
hand around the large and glowing form of the senator s daughter. 

" Speak quietly," he said, leaning toward the backs of her par 
ents, on the bench before him, " or all the passengers will crowd 

He felt the deceit he was doing, for it was to enjoy Light s so 
ciety that he gave this counsel. She resented his endearment but 
a moment, and in the obscurity sat within his arm, he only the 

The senator did not speak, but his wife inquired distantly of 
Quantrell what nature of men might have taken the town. 

" Oh ! sir, I know what you will say," Light Pittson exclaimed, 
bringing her form and face around to Quantrell ; " I have consid 
ered it all. They are Mexicans. See their blankets, and wide som 
brero hats, and flashing lances ! Are they not rancheros, caballeros, 
patriots, who have come to repay our ungenerous invasion of their 
land ? " 

" Indeed," said Quantrell, " they have come from half-way to 
ward Mexico. They are Kansas buccaneers. Senator Pittson, the 
old man says he is John Brown." 

" John Brown ! " Light Pittson exclaimed ; "that s a little plain. 
Not the Black Douglas ! Nor Charles de Moor ! Well, John Brown 


is simple heroism. And not Mexican ? Why, all the more ro 
mantic, papa. He s our own American hero." 

The senator did not speak immediately, nor turn his head. He 
remarked after a pause, in which the young couple sat bolt upright, 
enjoying the respectful flutter of their hearts : 

" I feared some unbalanced, or overbalanced, man would stam 
pede this nation, if violence in Kansas became chronic there. Our 
prairie-grass blows eastward in the season of prairie-fires. Brown 
has always trod a lonely and peculiar path, doing his own thinking, 
projecting comprehensive enterprises out of no resources at all, and 
self-confident enough to undertake the fulfillment of any forlorn 
hope or old Puritan dream." 

" You knew him, then, papa? " 

As she leaned ardently forward, Ouantrell held her more 

" Shame, sir! " Light Pittson whispered to him. " Where is your 
mountain beauty ? " 

" It was predicted," Ouantrell whispered in her ear, " that my 
destiny should be changed to-night." 

A slightly accelerated breathing was her response, and a stillness 
that was the bliss of pain. 

" Yes," said the senator, reflectively, " I once visited John Brown 
in northeast Ohio, near the town where he was raised. His father 
was a pioneer of the great West, a poor man, a tanner, and a shoe 
maker. Yet this son, John Brown, was then aiming to control the 
wool-trade of all the West, and had a great flock of Estremadura 
sheep, and had mercantile aims which spanned two worlds." 

" What did he look like, Mr. Pittson ? " Lloyd asked, in the thrill 
of both beauty and political feeling. 

"Why, sir" the senator seemed more distant than upon their 
first acquaintance " the scene he made that day to my boyish mind 
was so romantic I never can forget it." 

" Ah ! papa," Light said, " I get my romance legitimately." 

"Yes, that legitimately, Light," the senator reflected, as if he 
was smiling, too. " John Brown was then about forty-five years of 
age. He had lost four of his children nearly at the same funeral. 
He was walking along on that high plain the highest between the 
river Ohio and Lake Erie with a large basket upon his arm full of 
new-born lambs. In his great white coat-pockets was a lamb in 
each. The mothers of the Jambs were following him toward the 



fold, bleating. And what do you suppose he was thinking of, amid 
those bleating dams and lambkins ? " 

" Wool, I reckon," Ouantrell spoke, sullenly " black wool." 

" Yes, sir, something like that," the senator rejoined. " He said 
to me, I was just thinking that if this Government did not do bet 
ter, some day I would begin war upon human slavery and close it 
out. Strange that I should have remembered it to this night, for I 
was myself a boy ! " 

" He has come," said Quantrell, " if this be the same man. His 
basket and his pockets are full of lambs. Their mothers will bleat 
to-morrow when we kill them, on the threshold of Virginia." 

" I am not surprised that Brown should attempt anything, but 
that he could persuade enough men to follow him here within the 
lines of Baltimore, Richmond, and Washington, is a matter of pro 
found wonder, and it shows, my dear," he addressed his wife, " how 
the anti-slavery agitation has caught the younger generation up. 
John Brown considers himself the executioner. He has an indiffer 
ence about life, in the furtherance of any extreme proposition, that is 
particularly Puritan. I am not well, and yet I will try to speak to 
him, useless though it may be." 

" I will go with you ! " said Lloyd Quantrell, rising from Miss 
Light s side. 

"No, sir!" the senator firmly spoke. "Detain him here, my 
daughter. It is fit that I should risk my life for Abel Quantrell s 
son, and discharge my debt to him." 

Mrs. Pittson, accompanying her husband down the aisle of the 
car, left Quantrell free to address her large, engaging, child- daughter 
according to the strange rebellion in his heart. He took Light s hand 
again, and said : 

" It was to see you, Miss Light, that I, risked returning from my 
prison, where I had intended to stay and see this outrage through. 
Do you understand why we became so soon interested in each 

" Romance glorious, sincere romance !" Light Pittson spoke, 
with earnestness that was both eloquent and mirth-moving. " We 
met each other in danger ! Among mountains ! Going to the grand 
capital of our free country. You were brave and handsome, and 
became our herald to the bandits." 

" Dear miss, it must have been something more than that. It 
was for your father, and not for you, I took my chances with the 


robbers : I did not want him to be exposed. And yet, since I have 
entered their prison, the thought of you, growing and growing in 
my head I think it is not yet my heart made me come back to 
see you again." 

"Mr. Ouantrell, you wore my ribbon, and it was your knight 
hood. You remember the knight who went down to the lion to 
bring his lady her glove she dropped there. He threw it into her 
face, because her intention was not romantic, and merely a bit of 

" Then you are no coquette ? " 

" Oh, no. A woman who would trifle with courage and danger, 
and expose another for less than true romance, is the unworthiest 
of her sex." 

" Were you ever in love, Miss Light ? " 

" No, indeed. The man ! love must have some fine romance 
in him, whether for good or evil. He must be true to his ideal, Mr. 
Quantrell. Papa is that kind of man : he admires candor, and says 
hypocrisy is the only enemy of freedom ; that we need not apologize 
for nature s deviations in us, and if we err should do so frankly. 
Never to lie, nor conceal, nor evade ; to take one s side in the battle 
of life, and let gallant conduct attest our honest motive." 

" I believe with your father, Miss Light ; with him and his fami 
ly, 1 must disagree upon the subject of to-iaight s outrage. I shall 
take my part against the abolitionists with all my might." 

" Splendid ! " said Light Pittson. " Who can blame you for 
choosing your side ? If not a Paladin, be a Saladin ; and always 

" Let me wear your ribbon, and I will try to remember your 
father s motto. Does he know my father? " 

" He must, I think. After you went down among the robbers, 
he was quite overcome. I heard him say, The right half of him is 
there ! He has been thinking about something ever since." 

" Dear young lady Light, let me call you " 

" Oh, do ! We Western girls are never formal." 

" There is a right half in me. There must be also a worser 
half. I have had no teacher. My aims are ignorant. I live by 
guess. May I have your sympathy ? " 

" Yes, but you must be true to your mountain damsel. No dis 
loyalty, Mr. Lloyd." 

"You mean Lloyd, Light." 



"Well, Lloyd. It sounds like loyalty." 

" And your name sounds like knowledge. I can be loyal to my 
errors, but where shall I find light to show them to me ? " 

" Papa says that errors are the only lighthouses, and that dan 
gerous coasts are lighted by the wrecks they caused." 

" Do you feel any real interest in me ? " 

" I never was so attracted to a gentleman in my life. You must 
not feel complimented by the truth." 

" If I had met you one day before yesterday," Lloyd Quantrell 
said earnestly, " I think I never could have loved any other woman." 

She was not of the trembling kind of girls, her youthful body 
too precocious and substantial to yield to nervous rippling, but his 
ardent speech made her breathe audibly and be silent. A stranger 
had spoken the first avowal of love to her. 

" Answer me, " Lloyd Quantrell said. 

" Oh, this beautiful Eastern land ! " she replied. " In this, my 
first distant journey, I have found mountains and robbers, and had a 
gallant gentleman make love to me. What what romance ! " 

" Add this to it," said Lloyd. 

He kissed her. 

She gave a scream, impetuous as her blushes. 

" Don t be frightened, Light ! " spoke the voice of her father at 
the car-door; " I m not hurt, though I might have been." 

Quantrell felt relieved that the scream had been passed to a 
false account. 

" Never mind, my dear," Senator Edgar Pittson said to his wife, 
as they both came forward out of obscurity to more darkness. " He 
did threaten me, and his manner showed an indifference to life I had 
suspected of him when his self-righteous confidence is in com 

" Who, papa the brigand ? " 

" Yes, it is John Brown grayer, graver, commoner, but peculiar 
yet, and walking to-night the loneliest of all his peculiar paths." 

Mr. Pittson sank nervously into his seat, and wife and daughter 
soothed him, while Lloyd persuaded the interested passengers to 
give a sick gentleman privacy. 

" I did not know I could be really scared so," the senator spoke, 
after taking breath " He has a singular power over men s terrors." 

" Indeed he has, Lloyd Quantrell added. " I have felt it to 
night, senator ; the maniac is dead in earnest." 


"Wonderful romance!" Light exclaimed, and her mother re 
proved her. " What did General Brown say to you, papa ? " 

" He was at the side of the car, as Mr. Ouantrell had intimated, 
and was commanding the unwilling conductor to cross the bridge 
with his train. I introduced myself, and remonstrated with him 
upon this extraordinary breach of the peace. He turned upon me 
and demanded my name and business. When he recognized me, 
he ordered me to get on the train and proceed, under pain of death." 

" Afraid of your influence, Edgar ? " Mrs. Pittson observed, a 
lady large, like her daughter, as it seemed. 

" Oh, no. He called me a temporizer and a compromiser, and 
said that if public men like me, from the free States, had done our 
duty, he and his lads need not be in arms upon slave soil to-night. 
Go to Washington, said he, and tell Congress that John Brown 
has reopened the American Revolution ! His followers, like him 
self, were no respecters of my person. But, see ! we are starting." 

The train was really moving, slowly on squeaking wheels, like 
timid people going tiptoe up stairways which creak the more for 
their indecision. Looking out of the window, Quantrell saw the 
mountain farmer walking by the conductor and his lamp the con 
ductor hesitating and downcast, the mountaineer with the step of 
one oblivious to danger. 

" I could kill him now," spoke Quantrell, half aloud. 

" Oh, no," the voice of Light Pittson answered at his ear. " Not 
while we are under his safe-conduct. What a simple old man ! 
But, see, how venerable his beard is ! How much he seems deter 
mined ! How considerate, but not for himself ! And this is Brown 
of Ossawattomie ! Was there ever such a romance ? " 

The train passed the sentries and messenger ; the sound of solid 
ground was beneath the wheels. Quantrell lighted one of the lamps. 
For a little while the speed was increased as if under fright, and then 
the engine lost self-control and everything was arrested. 

" They need not be examining the wheels and gear," Mr. Pitt- 
son said ; " if Brown designed harm to any here, he would not have 
hesitated to commit it." 

" You think such a man can have any honor, senator ? " Lloyd 

" Yes. It is the quality of the old Cromwellians to take life 
without much sensibility, but to stickle at any deceit, compromise, 
or false doctrine. This man Brown would have sat in Bradshaw s 



place to judge King Charles, and would not have masked his face 
when chopping off the king s head ; but he would never throw a 
train from the track, to injure innocent people. His parole he never 
would violate." 

" Much as I hate him," Quantrell said, " I will not be outdone 
by him. I was his prisoner, and am under some sense of parole. I 
will return to Harper s Ferry." 

" Nonsense, Lloyd Quantrell ! The parole John Brown intended 
for you, I suspect, was not to return. He told me that he wished 
there was not a citizen in Harper s Ferry ; that he only came for 
arms, slaves, and slave-hostages." 

" Nevertheless, I shall return," Quantrell said. 

" Always my hero ! " Light Pittson exclaimed. " Yes, return like 
Regulus, Lloyd, if they roll you down the mountains in a barrel of 
knives ! I would always keep my word." 

" My daughter," spoke Mrs. Pittson, a large, somewhat haughty 
lady, " you call Mr. Quantrell Lloyd. That is not modest." 

" Mamma, it is very natural to say Lloyd to him. He calls me 
4 Light. This is not romance, mamma. I feel it." 

They were all standing in the car, which a brakeman had fully 
lighted. Lloyd observed that even under the late excited conditions 
some of the passengers were fast asleep. He also saw that Senator 
Pittson and wife were looking searchingly at him, with somewhat 
different expressions, and, unable to decipher these, Lloyd exclaimed : 

" Mrs. Pittson, Light is as modest as any young lady in the land. 
That I would maintain with my life. Why we feel so near each 
other we can not tell. Let me come to see you in Washington if I 

" My daughter is very young too young for gentlemen s society 
yet," Mrs. Pittson coldly replied. " I think this chance acquaintance 
had better end." 

" Mamma," pleaded Light Pittson, " it may be our destiny. Did 
we seek this precious opportunity of romance? " 

"Romantic girl," answered Mrs. Pittson, "what will restrain 
you in Washington if you yield to these illusions of love upon a rail 
road-train ? " 

" Not love, but affection," Lloyd Quantrell spoke, taking Light s 
hand and seeking her father s eyes. " Mr. Pittson, in our short 
acquaintance we have both been in danger for each other. I like 
you all. Miss Light is dear to me as your daughter. I have a great 


favor to ask of you, sir; but I ask it boldly and in all the light of 

He glanced at the senator s daughter as he unconsciously played 
upon her name. The senator stood nearly rigid, slender, and, as it 
seemed, deadly pale. 

" I know what you will ask," the senator said. 

Lloyd Quantrell felt himself blushing, in spite of all his moral 

" If you know," he continued, "you must read me very deeply. 
I shall ask to repeat candidly what I have done covertly." 

" Mabel," the senator turned to his distinguished-looking wife, 
" Mr. Quantrell wishes to kiss our daughter." 

" This is going too far," exclaimed Mrs. Pittson, flushing and 
opening her dark, creole eyes. 

" I do, madam ; I wish to kiss my beautiful friend good-by in 
sight of her parents." 

" No, it should not be," Mrs. Pittson commanded. " I must for 
bid it." 

The senator wore a strange yet touching smile as he contem 
plated the young man with something between wonder and affec 
tion. Almost automatically he spoke : 

" It is the voice of nature, wife, and pure as nature ever must 
be in candor such as his. Yes " 

" Edgar ! " 

" Yes, Mabel I say yes." 

He made a motion with his foot a little imperious and turned to 
look at his wife. 

" Is this prudent ? " she whispered. 

" No," said Senator Pittson, with a face made cheerful, as by his 
will. " It may not be prudent, but it is real. Let it come in its 
own way. * 

Lloyd took the youthful maiden s hand, her development so 
womanly, her expression so child-like, as she turned her face upward 
without fear. 

" As I wear your ribbon, Light, take my kiss openly, sincerely, 
heartily, before father and mother. God bless you ! " 

She stood looking at him in perfect admiration. Her mother 
took his proffered hand with a countenance indicative of pride and 
fear more than dislike. The senator wore a gentle smile, like one 
whose decision his mind approved, and said : 



" You have everything, Lloyd, but what you will lose." 
To the last Quantrell saw that superb flower of woman, yet in 
the age of the bud, giving him her whole romantic soul through her 
great gray eyes. The train moved eastward under the mountain- 
crags and cast its lights in the sluggish canal which wound beside 
it. Quantrell was standing alone, between road, railroad, canal, and 
the rocky gridiron of the river. He saw, a little way in the direc 
tion of the retreating red lantern of the train, the bars of houses at 
Sandy Hook. 

" I ll wake my landlord up, and fill my flask, and tell him the 
news," Lloyd Quantrell said, carrying his gun and game-bag. 



"THEY RE fighting at the Ferry," Lloyd said to the landlord, 
who arose half awake, and was not inquisitive. 

" Always fightin thar," the landlord replied, giving him some 
new country whisky. 

"Abolitionists have taken the Ferry," Lloyd explained. 

" Then they ll git tuk," the landlord observed, as if the Ferry 
was " tuk " every night. " Harper s Ferry is an ole suck." 

"Suck?" repeated Quantrell, struck with the word; "how a 
suck ? " 

" That s the name of it. Injuns called it the Hole and the Suck. 
Nobody ever gits out that gits in thar. Railroad stuck thar for 
years. Gov inent can t git out. It s the Suck." 

" Sucks people in, you mean ? " 

" Yes ; ole Bob Harper tuk it up from Pete Stevens over a hun- 
dered years ago. Pete had squatted thar years on Lord Fairfax and 
couldn t git out. Bob Harper left his bones thar. The floods gits 
it, the winds gits it, whisky gits it, and now, did you say, the abo 
litionists has got it ? It ll be a suck." 

" Old Isaac Smith and sons have took it," Lloyd said, falling 
into the syntax of the place. " They and a band of abolitionists. 
They re killing people there." 

" Isaac Smith ? " the landlord said. " And sons ? Is them abo- 



litionists ? They stopped with me when they fust come yer. They 
come to Sandy Hook last July, an said they was lookin for minerals, 
an sheep-lands an farms. Well, well ! Is them abolitionists ? I 
thought they was Christians. They ll find Harper s Ferry a suck." 

The landlord filled Quantrell s flask, put up his bottle, and went 
to bed. Having slept there two nights before, the gunner sought 
his own room mechanically, and stretching himself on the bed said, 
sleepily, " False to Katy ! not I " ; and then, it seemed to him, the 
sun rose right into his eyes. He had fallen asleep, probably for 

Nobody was awake in the hotel. He strolled up the road lead 
ing from the river, and found himself in Pleasant Valley, between 
the two mountain-lines, in rugged farm-country. He retraced his 
road under Maryland Heights back toward Harper s Ferry, and 
soon saw that picturesque village standing like the nipple above 
"The Suck." The sun was just rising up the shining lap of the 
Potomac, and shooting silver arrows at the little city, which stood 
out like a target. 

Harper s Ferry appeared between the two rivers, rising like a 
great green mound, with a road dividing it over the top through a 
ravine, and another road around the base of the mound ; and for a 
little way up its scarp hung or clung the picturesque little town, 
which also raveled along the upland road among borders of shade- 
trees till it disappeared over the summit. This hill was several hun 
dred feet high, and three or four churches, presented their gables 
from its grassy face, as if their pulpits had been buried in the earth. 
A spire or belfry or mountain graveyard added points of whiteness 
to the green background or clear gray sky, and some stone walls and 
terraces and bits of pasture-land where cows were quietly grazing in 
the airy tops gave a faint sense of inhabitancy. To the right over 
the Potomac the eastern portion of the mound terminated in a nearly 
perpendicular crag, out of which grew a pale-green thicket of trees 
and bushes, leaning almost horizontally. From near this abrupt 
headland to the low cape of the mound extended the stately line of 
low brick factories with high chimneys, and in the midst a lofty flag- 
mast. These buildings in their continuation also turned the cape 
and extended a little way up the other river, and below the factory 
line ran railroads coming down the sides of the two rivers and meet 
ing at a covered bridge of wood which spanned the Potomac on 
arches of stone to the Maryland shore. 


In overlapping rows of irregular heights the dormer-windowed 
houses and other dwellings, more detached, caught in their panes 
of glass the rising sun which shone through the rifted precipices up 
the broad, islet-sprinkled, rock-barred rivers, making them seem 
aisles of silver "between borders of green and russet. A canal 
wound along the larger river like a silver cord under the bare crags 
of Maryland. 

Another bridge, starting from near the commencement of the 
larger one, passed on slender abutments to the mountain above the 
Shenandoah. This mountain at the cape above the mingling of the 
rivers fell in perpendicular ledges or chimneys almost a thousand 
feet to the woodlands which grew from its debris and spread toward 
the eye in graceful wreaths of verdurous mountain, along whose sides 
could be seen the eagles, vultures, and crows circling as if around 
nests concealed in the rocks. For several miles these Virginia 
precipices curled over the Potomac as if seeking courage to span it 
and connect with the bald, scarred wall of Maryland Mountain ; but 
failing to do so till far below, a valley found place in Maryland to 
empty its creeks into the augmented Potomac between these hesitat 
ing ridges. 

Thus the town of Harper s Ferry slumbered at the base of its 
own acclivity, between the jaws of grander mountains which threat 
ened to fall upon it and drown it in a deluge, like that which had 
probably broken them asunder. There seemed wanting, to com 
plete the subjugation of the town, some mighty castle of the feudal 
age to crown its dome of greenness. He who descends the Alpine 
torrents toward the great plain of Lombardy may see sublimer 
heights for the old Ghibelline castles which frown toward the Papal 
sees, but nowhere else could he see two such rivers meet and go 
forward like white-plumed cavalry to wash the old Catholic counties 
of the plain of Maryland. 

An autumn russet lay inwoven with the green and gray scarps of 
the desolate mountains, like camp-fires which had gone out, in the 
awe of what had seized upon the usually whistling and hammering 
town in the vale. The crows and vultures chattered or circled in 
wondering gossip or augury about the steepling chimneys of Lou- 
doun Heights, as on that morning when Romulus and Remus 
watched the birds of omen and spilled the first blood of brethren in 
cuddling Rome. 

The little city hugging the heights, familiar with deluges, forg- 

THE SUCK. !47 

ing arms for battle, and often sheeted over by the thunder-storms, was 
on this day so commonplace amid its great besetments, that it stirred 
no more than the water-snakes upon the surface of the river rocks, 
which felt their cold blood grow tcrpid in the cloudy October air. 
The insensate and the superstitious, the vulgar and the rapt, leth 
argy and Nemesis, went together, as on that day when, at the walls 
of Troy, a wooden horse arose ridiculous, but in the sky a serpent 
shook the stout soul of the protesting priest. 

The Shenandoah, in cool, green rapids and white ripples, came 
around a shoulder of wooded mountain in a stately curve, and a 
low stone dike, partly natural, held its current back, to guide the 
water-power into two milling canals which formed green islands 
under the mutilated heights of Jefferson s Rock. These islands were 
inhabited by artisans and by toilers in the tall grist-mills there, and 
the upper island was another Government armory, with a line of 
workshops inclosed by a wall and entered by a bridge across the 
mill-sluice. Within the wall, a cupola tower in the facade inclosed 
a bell and upheld a flag-staff, and behind the rifle-works, next to the 
river, a railway ran toward the great Valley of Virginia. 

The sound of the Shenandoah churning among huge rocks and 
moaning over the low dam never was unheard here in the busiest 
days, and in the still dawn it seemed to speak a legend in the 
voice of sobbing, like the legend of bondage by the rivers of Baby 

Upon the summits above Jefferson s Rock lived the chief officials 
of Harper s Ferry, in roomy mansions, and thus the double river- 
gorge and rocky redan of the upper town maintained a feudal ap 
pearance, and had that military air as of some castellated pass held 
for a distant emperor by his various mercenary bands. 

A little passenger-packet lay in the canal, with steam up, ready 
to make her trip to Washington city through the many locks. 
Looking up at the telegraph-poles, Lloyd Quantrell saw that their 
wires had been torn and the broken strands hung near the bridge- 

" Poor Heywood ! " he said, thinking of the wounded negro ; " no 
wonder he could not apprise me of the coming train. Smith s band 
had severed communications. But by this time the night express 
is nearly at Baltimore, and all Maryland will be aroused." 

Within the entrance of the Potomac bridge a form with a spear 
came out of the dark shadows -and sternly ordered Quantrell to halt. 



" Ashby ! Is that your voice ? " 

" Halt ! Ef you don t, I ll kill you ! " 

The negro drove his spear close to Quantrell s throat. 

" Kill me," said Quantrell. " Do ! because I pitied you when 
your old father died. Because I was hated for taking your part. 
Because I fought and whipped your catchers. Come here and look 
at me, Ashby ! " 

The darkness, growing familiar, showed the negro to drop his 
spear and gaze at his prisoner irresolutely, He wore the old straw 
hat his dead father had worn, but around his nearly naked body a 
blanket was tied, like the other abolitionists uniform ; his feet were 
naked, and he limped. 

" Kill the only man who can save you from a horrible death 
Ashby ! By noon to-day you and the men who have seduced you 
will be howling on your backs for water to cool your wounds." 

" What kin I do ? " the escaped slave exclaimed. " I come for 
my daddy. Dey killed him and tuk me. De Kinsas men set on to 
em and give me freedom and told me to fight for my race. I must ! 
I know I ll die, but I must fight. Come with me, or I ll call Cap n 
Watson Brown yonder ! " 

He raised and clinched his spear again. In the perspective of 
the bridge-tube, Quantrell saw the forms of two more men. He 
spoke with quiet decision : 

" Ashby, I am going to buy you and send you North to your 
mother. Mr. Beall has told me your story. Your mother never 
meant to have you mixed up in a rebellion like this. You have done 
your duty to your father, and I can pardon and pity you." 

The kind tones brought down the negro s pike again. 

" Where is the man who owned you ? " 

" Over yer in Marylin." 

" What are you sentinel for at this point ? " 

" I was goin with Cap n Cook and his party over to git de guns 
at de farm, but I limped so, dey leff me yer and tole me to take 
everybody prisoners an march em to de engine-house." 

" March me there, Ashby. Tell Captain Brown s officers and 
men that I was kind to you when your father died. You can help 
me out of danger, and I will try to save your life in return for it. 
Hide this piece of money to buy shelter, or food, or conveyance, if 
you need them. Keep me this day in your humble care and watch, 
and to-morrow I will not forget it." 


" Mosster," the negro said, " I ll do de best I kin for you, for your 
kindness. My heart s mos broke." 

" Halt ! Who comes there ? " cried a bold voice from the middle 
of the bridge as they advanced. 

" Friend with a prisoner ! " 

" Advance, friend with the prisoner ! Who is it ? " spoke the 
voice of Watson Brown. 

" Isabel! " resonantly answered Quantrell. 

There was a startled motion, and the voice was not so bold, as 
it stammered : 

" Isabel ? What Isabel not mine ? " 

"Watson," said Quantrell, coming closer, "it s Lloyd, whom 
.you met on the mountains." 

" Who answered Isabel, sir? " 

The young man was stern and excited. 

" It must have been an echo," Quantrell replied, carelessly, but 
watching the young invader closely. " Your father let me out on 
my parole. I ve seen my friends off, and I m coming back. 

" I know I heard my wife s name," repeated Watson Brown. 

" It s probably an echo from the wind, my poor fellow some 
premonition some spirit, such as the spirits Captain Stevens 

" I never believed in such things before," the son of Ossawatto- 
mie Brown muttered. " Isabel is my wife. She has a little baby 
I never saw, sir. Where she lives, in the great North Woods, the 
snow drifts into our bedroom and the wind moans in sounds like 
that I heard, through the long winter soon to begin." 

" You are cruel to Isabel, Watson. What are the moans of ne 
groes to the call of your wife and baby-child ? " 

" In God s ears they are the same, my soul tells me. I can t go 
home while things are done that I have seen, even in Maryland. 
Nine black men died and one killed himself near our mountain farm 
since we have lived there ; all on slavery s cruel account. Take 
Mr. Quantrell to headquarters!" he ended, speaking to the ne 

" That was a home shot I gave him," thought the Baltimorean. 
" I heard him blubber Isabel to Coppock at the mountain farm. 
What a fanatic ! Does he expect retribution for every negro moth 
er s heart-ache ? That would take too long." 

Still, he was out of temper, spiteful but not afraid, and when he 


emerged from the bridge and saw Oliver Brown, hardly of man s 
age, standing there in blanket and gun, he cried, with cold gay- 

"Hallo, Oliver! I m going to my prison. No wife have I to 
pine for me. I hope you haven t." 

" Yes, Mr. Quantrell. I m sorry to see you back. I have a wife 
that was with me in Maryland, and I took her and my little sister 
back to New York before we should be in danger : her next little 
boy will be a Marylander, I calkelate." 

" Ah ! Oliver, wasn t that selfish, to remove your women from 
danger, and start insurrection on ours ?" 

A young connection of the Smiths, named Dolph or Dauph 
Thompson, as Quantrell had observed, replied to this reproof : 

" It was about this time of the morning, I calkelate, that -the 
Border Ruffians moved on Lawrence in Kansas, eight hundred 
strong. It was only two or three years ago. Artillery with em, too ! 
Mississippi rifles, you can calkelate. Georgians, Alabamians, Caro 
linians ! They looked as if the pirates had took the poor-house. 
Jeff Thompson, of Harper s Ferry here, and now mayor of the city 
of Saint Joe, I calkelate was among em. United States Senator 
Atchison addressed em drunk, you can bet ! Boys, says he, to 
day I m a Kickapoo ranger. If you find a woman armed as a sol 
dier, trample her under foot as you would a snake. A tiger was 
on their flag. They broke the printing-presses, robbed the people, 
pillaged from men and women, stole ladies letters, blew up the 
buildings, and sacked the town. I calkelate I know, for my brother 
Henry shed his blood there." 

" My brother Frederick," said Oliver Brown, "was shot in Kan 
sas and killed. A preacher from Missouri murdered him. My 
brother John was drove crazy by chains and cruelty. Our wives 
was threatened with abuse and shame if we didn t leave free soil. 
Through the streets of Leavenworth the scalps of men were paraded 
on poles. In Bloomington a woman who spoke against slavery was 
outraged by a troop. Where women couldn t live, men didn t want 
to settle, and here we are, outlaws back from Kansas, starting the 
war at the right end ! " 

" Prospectin -like," added Dolph Thompson, almost merrily. 

Quantrell passed on, bitter yet awed, as the dim recollection of 
past troubles in Kansas was made vivid by these survivors. He 
thought to himself, " Perhaps they do mean to put us all to death." 

THE SUCK. I 5 i 

As he meditated, the voice of Stevens was heard from the armory- 
gate : " No parley with prisoners. March your man right here ! 
Shoot him if he hesitates ! " 

As Stevens spoke, his short rifle was in both hands. From both 
bridges blanketed guardsmen emerged, with rifles in poise. By the 
arsenal-gate Coppock was looking intently on, his belt full of weap 
ons and his gun across his arm. The little wooden saloon in the 
eye of the vista was being opened by its proprietor within, and 
some of the band were watching it, also. 

" March ! " spoke the negro Ashby, hoarsely, looking fear, yet 
fidelity, at his prisoner. 

John Brown, or Isaac Smith, whichever he might truly be, came 
out to the gate and said to Ouantrell : 

" I allowed you to go away from here, sir. You will be in danger, 
and yet I warned you carefully. Take him in there and see that he 
behaves himself," addressing the negro. " He will not be discharged 

" Still tender on the mourning-doves, Mr. Smith," Quantrell re 
plied. "Listen-!" 

Two guns went off close by in the public street, and sounds of 
running or hustling feet were heard. 

" What s that ? Firing ? " interestedly asked John Brown. 

As they listened, another gun went off, from the arsenal-wall 
right opposite, and there was a loud cry of a man from up in the 
chasm of the hill street. Quantrell looked up where this street met 
the business street, and saw three of the blanketed men emerge, all 
three with smoking guns. 

" Dat time I got him ! " said a hoarse voice, as the negro, Newby, 
quietly wiped his rifle-top with his blanket. 

Another scream, or groan, floated from the railway-station, where 
the negro porter had yet several hours to live. 

These awful sounds in the still morning-time, blended by the 
two rivers in their plaintive wail, were followed by repeated whin- 
ings of a dog, and the pointer Albion made his appearance in the 
armory-yard, crouching or gamboling high in the air, as if the word 
" dove " had touched his soft and pliant ferocities. 

" Spirits ! " said the man Stevens. " They re never far away ! 
The men has found some citizens with arms, and sent them spirit- 
way. Now we ll get prisoners." 

These sounds of war gave nervous impulse to the invaders in the 



streets : their heads were more erect, their vigilance was renewed. 
People came sauntering in and were halted and seized with a pre 
cision which paralyzed resistance or curiosity. 

The evening bacchanal with a parched throat, going for his 
morning " cocktail," forgot his need when confronted by an open 
rifle-barrel and a stranger in the wild garb of blanket, slouched hat, 
and belted person, bristling with killing arms. The laborer coming 
toward work on river, store, canal, or farm, saw this apparition, 
and looking round in fear beheld its duplicate cutting off his retreat, 
and yielded, limp and docile. The saloons, half open, felt the 
absence of customers, and seeing these strange forms, both black 
and white, their keepers dodged within, or, walking forth, were taken 
from their bottles. 

Occasionally some man and even woman would pass along and 
feel queer at the unexpected sights, yet be without the understand 
ing to pause or inquire, carried onward by a simple instinct which 
preserved them from arrest. Again some fierce Caucasian laborer, 
seeing an armed negro in his path, would raise the customary fist 
to strike the helot down, and, with astonishment that made him 
dumb, would find that negro brave and deadly, and meekly receive 
from such a source his own favorite execration. The damning of 
black souls by fellow-men was impotent that day, because the white 
man s spirit had brooded over these black eggs and hatched them 
to armed men. 

There was a sound of hoofs before Quantrell entered the gate, 
and a man with a pale face, whom he recognized as the village 
doctor, dashed past upon a horse and galloped up the hill 

" Be firm but considerate, men," Quantrell heard John Brown 
say ; " capture them who resist. Take no life unless your own is in 
peril ! But we must hold our ground." 

As he was marched toward the little engine-house, his guard, 
Ashby, muttered : 

" Dat man up de street is dead ; I heard em say so ! Mosster 
Quantrell, what mus I do ? " 

" Get across that bridge, Ashby, as soon as you can ! Go past 
Sandy Hook and cross the big mountain into Catoctin Valley. Find 
Jake Bosler s farm, and say you came from me, and give my love to 
little Katy." 

" Dey ll kill me, won t dey ? " 



" If you stay here, you are sure to be killed. This place is the 
Suck, and takes everything to the bottom." 

Entering the watch-house again, Quantrell found it uncomfort 
ably full, and some of the occupants were complaining of thirst and 
fatigue and hunger. Almost every moment some new prisoner was 
brought in, and those previously confined scanned the new-comer s 
person or timidly listened to the few who had volatility enough to 

" What do you think they mean to do with us, Colonel Wash 
ington ? " asked the young Baltimorean. 

" Ah sah ! " The gentleman spoke with such circumspection 
that Quantrell with asperity said : 

" Sir, our situation levels distinctions. You should play the man 
here, and your suspicions of your fellow-prisoners are unworthy. It 
is your own State, your native county, that is invaded. I ask you 
for your ideas in our common emergency." 

The gentleman replied, with subdued effort : 

" Nothing in Brown s history is against my conviction that he 
will kill us all, sah. I have been searching my poor, breakfastless 
mind, to recollect what I can of his past in Kansas. I feel sure, 
sah, that this is the same man who, the day after the abolition set 
tlement of Lawrence was destroyed, took four of his sons and one 
son-in-law, and grinding their sabers sharp as butcher-knives, they 
entered a slaveholder s dwelling, sah, and took a father and two sons 
out of there prisoners ; and this old man shot the father dead, and 
his boys the same, no doubt, whom we see around this engine- 
house hacked the victim s sons to pieces with their sabers. The 
same night the old man set his sons upon two other men, who had 
been captured in their beds, and saw them cut down with as much 
indifference as a wolf. The very abolitionists in Kansas denounced 
such barbarity. Brown was then accused of meditating the massa 
cre of the Kansas State Convention which was enacting a Constitu 
tion. He had previously fought two victorious actions with the 
slave-State settlers, and, being outlawed there, he invaded Missouri 
and ran off mules and slaves, sah. The mules he sold in Ohio at 
public auction, and the Yankees there, sah, bought them because 
stolen. The slaves he stole there, may be in this robber army to 
night, sah." 

No rage was in this statement, but a memory barely struggling 
above despair, and the revelation increased the doubt, and therefore 



the numb dread, in Lloyd Quantrell s mind. He asked himself if 
Watson and Oliver Brown could have done such wonders. 

" Colonel," he whispered, " surely we can fight for our lives ? " 

" Ah sah ! " the inoffensive, hale, but broken man replied, " we 
are like butchers calves, sah. What I saw when taken from my 
bed, sah, convinced me I was valuable for nothing but my slaves 
and the slaughter, sah." 

" Nobody drinkin ? " spoke old Watty, the bar-keeper, among the 
crowd. " I reckon I ll turn the lights down. They has -to be paid 
for! Sherry cobblavv ? Brandy toddy? Fi penny-bit ! fi penny- 
bit ! " 

"Watty! Watty! you forgit you re tuk. You re off of your 
Amen canus. Watty ! See all our neighbors comin to call on us 
all tuk ! " 

" All but ole Ball ! " echoed a few faint and tired voices. " What 
will ole Ball say ? " 

" Ole Ball 11 say, Who didn t ring that bell accordin to my 
orders ? That s what ole Ball 11 say. Then I ll be clar off my 
Americanus f " 

There came floating down the gray and sharp October morning 
a sound like musical vibration. The whine of a dog seemed to pro 
test against it. 

" Hark ! " spoke the bell-ringer. " Has Captain Brown dared to 
ring my bell ? I ve had the doin of it so many years, to let another 
do it seems like as if I was dead and heard my funeral-bell." 

With another hesitation and twanging, like some tender bird 
clearing its glottis of the mist, a bell directly above them began to 
ring, and through the vales its strong and steady tones went art 
lessly, in no imperious command, but mellow invitation, as if a cage 
of linnets had awakened full-throated and tried their hearts in 

" It s the Catholic church," the bell-ringer said. It s the angelus 
they re ringing for the workmen s early mass." 

The sound of murmured prayers was heard among some of the 
humbler prisoners. Lloyd Quantrell called aloud the words of morn 
ing prayer as he remembered them at school : 

" Gratiam tuam qncesumus Domtne ! Pour down Thy grace 
into our souls ! " 

" Amen ! " in whispers filled the little place. 

" As we have known the incarnation of Christ Thy Son, by the 



message of an angel, so may we come to the glory of the resurrec 
tion. Per eundem Christum dominum nostrum ! 

" Amen ! " 

The bell hesitated again, continued on a stroke or more, and 
then a shot was fired. 

The bell stopped, trembling ; a dog stopped howling, too. 

Watty, the bar-keeper, burst into tears. 

Tears came to many others at his example. Their depressed 
feelings, violent superstitions, uncertainty, and fainting hunger, had 
prepared all for some sudden burst of agony, and the little Christian 
prayer had touched all hearts. 

" Watty s off of his Americanus," the bell-ringer cried, coming 
forward, a sob upon his voice. " Pore Watty ! He wants his dram." 

" I try to commodate you all," the old bar-keeper moaned ; " sorry 
I can t please none of you ! Pay me off and let me go ! " 

His aged face and straggling hairs, vacant countenance, and in 
offensive village ways, touched everybody. The bell-ringer wrapped 
him in his arms, shed his tears upon the old vagrant head, and 
seemed himself about to lose his homely self-restraint. 

" Who broke the bell ? " articulated Watty. " I can t hear none 
of em. They s a-callin for orders, and I can t tell. Only let me 
hyur you, an I ll do my juty. Fi penny-bit ! fi penny-bit ! " 

The bell-ringer, himself an aged man, but of some simple decision 
of character, here threw himself against the watch-house door. 

" You le me out ! " he shouted. " I m most off of my America 
nus, and I m not desponsible. I don t own no slave. I ain t done 
no harm. Shoot, if you want to. But this pore man s got to have 
his dram ! " 

" Jimmy ! Jimmy ! " the bar-keeper muttered, nearly brought to 
reason by his friend s exposure. " Don t take no account at em. 
They fights as soon as they gets a little pizened. Never mind yo 
money, friends ! Go out peaceable. Go, go ! " 

As the guard opened the door, Ouantrell s dog rushed in, and 
with a yell of pain for Smith or Brown, the bandit leader, kicked 
him, passing, and entered, himself looking poorly. 

" Who is it making confusion here ? Citizens, this is no child s 
play. Two men are dead already one for not obeying orders, and 
the other for carrying a weapon." 

" I ain t got no weapon, but I ve got a heart ! " the bell-ringer 
alone had the courage to speak in his fierce captor s face. " Cap- 


tain, there s men here who want their food. They ain t used to 
hollow stummicks." 

" Every man who can send me a colored person for a recruit, I 
will discharge," the leader said, like one of business propositions, 
fixing one grayish-green eye upon the bell-ringer, and the other 
doing the summarizing. 

The perfect daylight revealed him now, tired after the night s 
exertions, wiry, with one eye preoccupied and the other like a fisher- 
bird s, the nose vulturous, and the mouth as hard as intense opinion- 
atedness and severe reflection could make it in man. 

He had his arms beneath his old coat-tails, and his cap con 
cealed there ; and his unkempt hair flamed up like a beacon in 
ashes ; and the fleece of gray and white beard made a blossom like 
a snow-ball to his breast- bone. Without an ornament but the dress 
sword-hilt of a king no seals, no watch, no watch-guard, not even 
a pistol now John Brown seemed terrible by his simplicity and in 

Unconstrained, natural, yet wild ; not entirely sane in the expres 
sion of his eyes ; deliberate but unfeeling, ready to become domestic 
or dreadful, like a house-cat to take a fit, he measured them all as if 
he was ransoming sheep. 

All felt that he could toss them back like lambs to their pens if 
they sought to assail or evade him. His whole dress a slop-shop 
might have rejected ; but the stringy frame within it, and lean, bushy 
head, at once patriarchal and animal, gave him the sense of some 
Calvinistic wolf a savage qualified by theology. 

" My blood," said this apparition, in a metallic, commercial voice, 
"is precious to me tolerably so." He paused, as if reflecting just 
how much it might be worth. "Your blood I do not desire." 
They felt a dread come over them as if it were merely want of appe 
tite that retarded his meal. " But you are my hostages for the of 
fenses of your disobedient neighbors, who have broken the laws of 
God. This is war ! I mean nothing but right. But I mean all I 
came here for." 

Quantrell s chilled spirit recalled the curse of Hannah Ritner, 
not twenty hours elapsed : " I see the rivers flowing red. Escape ye 
can not ! " 

"You may be a great man," said the bell-ringer, not unim 
pressed, " and have your idees, but an empty stummick is a cruel 
neighbor. It ll make a baby cry of a night. It ll make a wild beast 

THE SUCK. 157 

go catch food for its young at any peril. It ll do more than that "- 
the bell-ringer dropped his voice to produce the full, pathetic effect 
" it ll make a nateral being go off of his Americanus!" 

He put his hand on Watty s forehead, and Watty advanced to 
ward John Brown unsteadily and placating : 

" Drink with the house ! " he said. " Guarantee everything to 
come out of the same bar l. He-he ! Medford rum ! Parson s flip ! 
Raw egg an hell-fire ! He-he ! " 

" There s a picture of slavery," said John Brown " the slavery of 

" I m one of em," another prisoner cried, coming forward. " Ef 
you doan le me go git my dram, I ll take the rams an git shot fight- 
in somebody." 

His red eyes and unsteady hands told that his apprehensions 
were real. 

" I can set slaves free and take them far from their masters," 
John Brown remarked, looking at the two men like a magistrate 
sentencing some vagrants ; his great mouth was firm, but his eyes 
had a little thoughtful pity mixed with their contempt. " Slaves of 
vile habits no man can set free. The thing these two men serve "- 
he looked over the crowd " whips and kicks them, even in their 
sleep, and then they go and whip and kick their unfortunate fellow- 
men ! Go with him " he addressed the bell-ringer " and order 
breakfast for me for twenty men. I parole you to proceed to the 
hotel for that purpose. If the breakfasts are not sent, my army will 
hold you responsible when we take you again. As for you," turn 
ing to the second toper, " go home, but do not stop to poison your 
self anywhere on the way." 

Quantrell had a peep of this proceeding, and saw the bell-ringer 
turn his eyes toward the bell-station and move that way, till a sentry 
turned him off. He shook his head disconsolately, but took old 
Watty s hand. 

" Cap n," Watty said to John Brown, " I ll mix you a Caner of 
Galilee : sodee an hock an ole Sassaurek ! Then you ll feel so 
good, you won t shoot nobody. He-he ! " 

The lines of the invading "army," as Captain Brown had named 
it, were now perfectly formed. There was a guard on the armory 
green, another at the yard-top, a third at the gate, and men were 
upon the bridge. Brown himself went with the hostages to the 
public street and conferred with sentinels in the two arsenal build- 


ings opposite. Shots were heard occasionally in the upper town, as 
if citizens might be firing old loads from their guns or making ready 
for resistance. 

The breakfasts were brought over from the hotel, and Brown 
invited the prisoners to partake thereof in the engine-house ; but 
some nervous skeptic whispered that it might be poisoned food, and 
only a few, among whom was Quantrell, took advantage of the re 
quest. John Brown bowed his head before he ate, and seemed to be 
asking a blessing upon his meal. Albion, seeking to steal a piece 
of fried ham, ran against the great bandit s claws, and was thrown 
toward the yard, but slipped over the old man s arm and ran beneath 
one of the engines, where he howled dismally. 

His meal being done, Quantrell asked permission to remain in 
the engine-room, which contained no other prisoners. John Brown 
made no answer, but went off to inspect his posts. 

Quantrell began to think of Katy in Catoctin Valley, of Light 
Pittson in Washington, of his mother in her grave, and of the new 
and solemn feelings which had impelled him to intone a portion of 
a public prayer. 

" Am I infirm in my affections ? " he asked himself. " I feel no 
guilt. Till Sunday I never was in love ; no ladies man have I ever 
been. Yet I seemed to make a conquest of the senator s daughter 
as easily as of Katy. What do I mean ? " 

He found the pointer-dog insidiously climbing upon him, and 
drowsiness was in his brain ; so he drew the dog to a place beneath 
a fire-engine, and, crawling there upon some leather harness and 
blankets, fell asleep. 

A loud discharge of guns, so close that they seemed to have 
been fired at the engine-house door, awoke Quantrell, and he rushed 
against the door and into the armory-yard, unconscious for a mo 
ment of his whereabout. Nobody paid any attention to him in the 
yard, and the guards there were crouching behind the stone gate 
posts and handling their pieces as if to kill some expected foe. Avail 
ing himself of the confusion, the young man ran across the open 
plaza and along the railroad side of the yard, until he could look over 
the iron railing and up into the town, by the Shenandoah street. 

He saw nothing but blowing smoke in front of some high brick 
stores, and an object fallen in the street, and feebly moving. In an 
other instant the object was still. 

The smell of brimstone was in the air. The streets were per- 

THE SUCK. 159 

iectly deserted except by dogs, which were smelling and snapping at 
the fallen object his own dog the most forward and conspicuous. 

While Quantrell looked, a rifle sounded from one of the bridges 
he could not see, and a piece of brick, or lead, or splinter seemed to 
fly from the front of one of the tall houses in line with the armory- 
gate. In a moment the front of this house flashed smoke and fire, 
as if several guns had been shot off together. From the bridge 
and the stone gate-piers, shots went responsive against the con 
cealed enemy in the house. 

Quantrell distinctly noted a difference in the quality of sound of 
the opposing guns. 

"Breech-loaders," he thought, "against the muskets of Harper s 
Ferry. The Virginians have got arms." 

He noticed that no store in the village had opened its windows, 
though the sun was coming over the tall Loudoun Heights, some 
hours high. As he looked at this sun, the crows, flying around the 
chimneys of Loudoun Mountain, arrested his attention, and he 
thought of the black man Newby s saying, that not a black crow 
was in those rocks but would fight for its young. 

" My God ! " spoke Quantrell, slowly, seeking with his eyes the 
object fallen in the street again, " I know that man lying yonder. 
It is a mulatto. It is Newby himself ! " 

Obeying an impulse of mingled mercy and horror, Lloyd Quan 
trell vaulted over a broken angle in the brick wall, and, with both 
hands raised higher than his head, he ran along the public street, 
exposed to the concealed marksmen from either side, but barely 
conscious of their existence. A few shots, fired from the heights 
around the Catholic church, rattled along the limestone crossings 
and macadamized roadway and rebounded from the sloping traps of 
cellar-ways. The golden cross above the Roman chapel seemed 
also extending its arms in the truce of heavenly intercession and 
flaming with perturbed light. 

He reached the fallen object ; it was a human creature, tumbled 
with gun in hand, and belted round with other carnal weapons, but 
helpless as a turtle upon its back. Quantrell knelt and spoke the 
sufferer s name ; a terrible wound was in his neck, out of which the 
blood was gushing. 

" Newby, can t you get up ? " 

" Cap n Brown called me," the pale lips muttered. "I had to 
be a man." 


Feet and chin stiffened together, and the first victim on either 
side had been a black crow righting for its young. 

Quantrell took up the negro soldier s rifle : 

" Poor devil ! " he said ; " Harper s Ferry is turning out to be a 
suck. " 



WHISTLING bullets past Quantrell s head recalled him to some 
preserving fear. Looking down toward the armory-gate, he saw a 
negro from the arsenal leveling a piece at him, and the ball grazed 
his hair. 

Quantrell retreated up the hill street, called High Street, and 
while he turned his head to see if he was followed, his feet stumbled 
upon something soft, and he was thrown to the sidewalk beside a 
sleeping man. Scrambling up and seeing that the man did not 
move, Quantrell touched him and found him cold. 

" Oh, bring him in ! " a voice whispered from a neighboring 
grocery ; " the Mexicans shot him there the matther of two hours 
ago, and we re afraid to walk in the strate ; fur they fires at avery- 

A gun, thrown down in the shock of. being wounded, lay beside 
this man, and showed that he had gone forth to kill. He looked to 
be a herculean Irishman. 

" This is the man that yonder Newby killed, no doubt," thought 
Quantrell ; and, as he sought to lift the bulky and heavy form, he 
felt himself seized and being dragged away. 

Through an alley-way nearly opposite, which descended the 
slope into an almost unoccupied lane, right under the engine-house 
and wall, his captors bore him fiercely with firm hands and silent 
purpose, and he made no resistance whatever, considering that he 
had no arms and had sought to harm no man. 

From various garrets, whose dormer windows partly com 
manded this lane, the popping of guns came momentarily and 
tore up the dirt around them, and scarred the long government 
wall. A church-bell somewhere up in the town began to ring an 
alarm, and over a broken place in the wall, some way ahead, a few 


men carrying something weighty emerged and fired their pistols at 
Quantrell s abductors. The latter shook Quantrell loose, but kept 
him between themselves and the enemy, and began to fire their 
short, breech-loading guns. 

Lloyd saw that his captors were both negroes, and under high 

The fleeing white men made little response to the guns of these 
negroes, but continued to bear off their burden ; and among them 
Quantrell thought he recognized the young planter, Beall, and the 
pale and frowsy Atzerodt. 

" Git ova yer, or we ll kill you in de road ! " gasped one of these 
black men. 

" Git over ! " echoed the other, giving Quantrell a painful blow 
with the butt of his carbine. 

They forced him across a picket-fence and up a slope, in a little 
garden or hog-yard, and near the top of this acclivity was a mighty 
rock which had been walled up below by human hands and made a 
cave or cellar for some adjacent house. Into this all three retreated 
from the bullets, which began to come from everywhere. 

The negroes, taking breath a moment, turned on Quantrell. 

"Come," said a supple fellow named Green, "you got to die, 
man ! " 

He drew his gun and raised it. 

" What ? " cried Quantrell. " Kill me ! What have I done ? " 

" You are a soul-buyer an a slave-trader ! " 

" You keeps a slave-pen and sells men like me ! " the other ne 
gro, who had been called Copeland, exclaimed, with no less sullen 
ferocity. " We know you, an you got to die for our brother New- 
by ! " 

Copeland raised his gun also. The despair of death fell upon 
Quantrell s soul. 

" For Christ s dear sake, men, don t murder me ! You are under 
a mistake. My uncle is in that business not I." 

He had literally fallen upon his knees. The sense of dying in 
that cave, of moldering in such a sty, of being hideously cut off in 
youth and bloom and happy love, made him beg like a child. The 
pugilist s bravado failed him in this test of death. 

"De boot s on de oder leg," Copeland continued, while Quan 
trell grasped the carbine and turned it aside ; " it s no harder fo you 
to die than fo Newby, shot fo ? his childern ! " 


" I have never bought a slave, never sold one ! " Quantrell gasped ; 
" all my slaves are inherited, all well treated. Don t bring this 
blood upon your hands ! " 

" No man s well treated with his liberty and wages took away," 
the negro Green exclaimed, his rifle at Ouantrell s head. " We ve 
all got to die here. Your life for Newby s ! Say your prayers ! " 

" Nothin kin save you," Copeland spoke, his gun at Ouantrell s 
heart ; " we made up our minds, when you said yo family sold men, 
to kill you if one of us died, and Newby s gone to heaven. Come ! " 

At that cold word, so blank yet dreadful, Come ! Ouantrell s 
heart and brain seemed to swoon. He said the Catholic names of 
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," and threw himself with arms outspread, 
like the cross he surrendered his life to, upon his face and on the 
floor of that foul cave. 

The sound of both carbines exploding made him await in cold 
awe the torments of some wounds. He felt nothing ; but feet were 
treading upon him, as if men were wrestling. 

" I pushed yo guns up. Is he dead ? De Lord fo give 
you ! " 

Raising his face at this strange voice, Quantrell saw a fourth man 
in the cave contending with his enemies. 

This man had a negro s face, but he seemed so bright and radi 
ant in Quantrell s eyes, that the cry of Nebuchadnezzar appeared to 
be ringing in that rocky furnace : " Lo ! I see four men loose, walk 
ing in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt ; and the form of 
the fourth is like the Son of God ! " 

" Dat man didn t do no black man harm," said a voice; " dat 
man s de black man s friend. He fought fo me. He give me 
money to git away wid. He s a kine man ! " 

As this voice spoke, a piece of gold flashed in his hand the 
evidence of Ouantrell s kindness. 

"He s gone dead," spoke the negro Copeland. "O Green! 
may be we s killed a good friend." 

" Ain t he no soul-seller? " answered Green. " It s a pity, then." 

They gathered around Ouantrell s outstretched form. 

" Po man ! " said Ashby, the new arrival, feelingly ; " de on y 
kine words I got, in de Ian whaw I was raised, dis man said to 
me. Lord, raise him fo me ! " 

Quantrell raised his head. 

The colored men looked down wonderingly. 


" Prayer, brother ! " said Green to Ashby ; " see how it s an 
swered ! " 

"Raise him, Lord ! " cried Ashby, loudly, in the ecstasy of relig 
ious superstition. 

" Raise him ! Raise him, Lord ! " the late assassins repeated 

Quantrell arose, pale as a ghost, and for a moment speechless. 
He leaned upon all their hands. They watched him like a spirit. 

Nothing but gratitude was in his heart, and he felt like giving 
thanks even to his murderers, so violently had human power been 
transferred in a few hours from white man to negro. 

" Ashby, you turned their guns aside. I am not hurt." 

"Come, den," Ashby shouted, " we s mos surrounded. De 
gate s held open for us a minute. Come ! " 

Quantrell and the three negroes dashed down the slope, and a 
wooden gate in the side-wall was held ajar. As they entered it, 
bullets came from old stone walls and hanging galleries, from garret- 
windows and from pig-pens. 

They were in the armory-yard, and the gate shut fast behind 
them, before they had been well discovered. 

" Here," said the voice of John Brown as they reached the engine- 
house, " you men are just in time. I want some loop-holes picked 
in these brick w 7 alls." 

As the sounds of the implements in the brick masonry and of 
guns of different kinds made the place far from tranquil, Quantrell 
asked himself how many of these bandits there might be ; though he 
had hardly seen twenty in all, they acted as if they were an army. 

" What is this thing of slavery ? " Quantrell questioned of a 
somewhat depressed but not despairing man, whose only crime in 
John Brown s eyes had been slaves. 

" You mean its value in property ? " 

" Yes, the strength or weakness of it. I never asked before, and 
now see, for the first time, that it is the question of questions." 

" In Virginia," said the farmer, " we have about five hundred 
thousand slaves half as many souls as the whites of Virginia." 

" Souls," thought Quantrell, and added, " you mean that many 
head, not souls." 

" Wills, anyway," the farmer replied, " if what we see to-night 
is representative. Maryland has ninety thousand slaves and nearly 
as many free blacks, or say two fifths of all her" 


"Souls," Ouantrell finished; "we mean head." 

<l I had rather have souls into them to-day," the farmer remarked, 
" for their soul-fear is what may save our lives." 

"That s true," Ouantrell noted ; "a nigger is a religious animal. 
But what is the extent of the slavery in all this American Republic 
which John Brown has rushed against ? " 

" Four millions at least." 

" Worth? " 

" Oh, a thousand million dollars, I reckon. Twice that, unless 
this fellow gets up a black insurrection." 

" Has slavery been growing? " 

" Yes ; seventy years ago we hadn t but seven hundred thousand 
in the country. They re growing three quarters to a million every 
ten years. We re pore with em, and pore without em. Less than 
thirty year ago Virginia was half minded to give slavery up, but 
Missouri and Texas got into the Union as slave States, and it be 
come too profitable to let the thing go. This man s raid to-day 
cuts down the value of my niggers from a thousand dollars apiece 
to six or seven hundred." 

" Ditto ! " Quantrell remarked. " Yet I have seen times in these 
few hours when it would have been cheap to me to give up every 

" Dreadful times ! " the captive planter moaned. " I don t see 
why they may not as well kill us as outrage us in this way ; my 
stomach is in torture." 

" Here, drink from my flask," the young man said ; "don t show 
it, for there s not enough to go round, and we may want it yet 
for " 

"Our wounds," replied the planter. "Sir, these men are 
demons. When they took me, they had studied my house till 
they knew every hole and corner of it." 

"They come in hyur," spoke another person, "just befo the 
armory watch changed, and so they tuk everybody. That little Cook 
sot it all up. We suspected him from the quare people that come 
to his mother-in-law s up yer on Union Street. He totched a 
school " 

" Taught it ? " questioned Ouantrell. 

" Yes, totched our academy school up hyur by the Shinandoh, 
and, of cose, he picked out of the childern all about the comin and 
goin ." 


As this man ended, Lloyd observed that one of the late slaves 
of Mr. Washington had just opened daylight in the brick wall, and 
suddenly a leaden ball from outside struck this spot and came 
within a hair s breadth of Isaac Smith and dropped into Ouantrell s 
hand, rebounding from the wall behind him. 

" Here it is, Captain Brown," Ouantrell said ; " it s so hot I 
can t hold it." 

" Yo kin pick away fur yo self ! " exclaimed the frightened negro, 
dropping his tool ; " I ll do no mo of it." 

As the negro slunk under the engine, his dreams of liberty de 
parted, young Coppock took up the tool and began to widen the loop 
hole. Two holes were thus made and manned, and balls came almost 
momentarily in the place. Some of the captives shrank, and others 
quietly looked at each other to give or take courage. The engine- 
house door was kept ajar, and just outside of it the young marks 
men, black or white, replied with their rifles to every enemy. Ouan 
trell now realized that Smith or Brown was at least twenty years 
the senior of every recruit he possessed. 

" Is he a childish man to lead these boys," thought Ouantrell, 
"or are these boys manful as himself, to seek such danger? " 

Through the large round windows near the ceiling the balls 
would come, ever and anon, making the brick-dust fly, or glinting 
fire upon the metal of the engine ; yet not a person within was 
struck, and old Brown paid nc more attention to these balls than if 
they had been of paper and thrown at a schoolmaster. Sometimes 
his look was anxious, and he asked a subordinate once why his re- 
enforcements did not come. Finally, his son, Watson Brown, came 
in, with a blanched look, and sank down upon his hams, speech 

" My son, are you wounded ? " the old man questioned. 

" I think I m hit," said Watson Brown, whose skin had become 
the color of white dust in the street. " I feel queer, father." 

Ouantrell had already opened the young man s coat and re 
moved his accoutrements. He found a perforation in his garment, 
and blood, and passed his hand around the lad s body. Watson 
Brown seemed to have swooned, for he said : 

" Is that you, Bell ? Oh, let me see the little fellow ! " 

" Wake up, Watson ! " Ouantrell spoke ; " it s only a skin- 
wound. There s no hole in you. Taste this whisky and you ll 
be strong." 


Watson Brown pushed the flask away. His face slowly flushed 

" Not shot ? " he spoke ; " no bad wound ? Give me my gun ! " 

He was up, the blood warm again in his hopeful face, and his 
belt of weapons in his hands. 

" Go, my son ! " his father said, in a sort of dry interest. " Stand 
by your companions ! We have a great cause." 

The young man fastened his belt around his body, looked at his 
gun and ammunition, and went cheerfully into the exposed yard. 

" For all that," muttered Quantrell, sinking beside the planter, 
and himself sick with the sight of blood, " there s a hole in Watson 

" Poor boy ! " exclaimed the planter ; " bad as he is, I pity him." 

John Brown now walked into the armory-yard and began to 
listen to the sounds of shooting. 

" I hear my guns," he said to Coppock. " They must be my re- 
enforcements. Or, perhaps, they have disarmed my men." 

" Captain Brown," said Coppock, " why don t we hear from Cap 
tain Kagi ? We re holding High Street corner open by sentineling 
the arsenal wall, but nobody comes down from the Rifle-works ! " 

" I ordered Kagi," said John Brown, " not to fire upon anybody ; 
merely to hold his ground, and, if attacked, to retire upon us here. 
He could not defend himself there till re-enforced." 

" I calkelate he s surrounded," said Coppock. 

John Brown opened the engine-house door and called two men 
in from their posts : 

" Hazlett, come here ! Bring Lehman with you ! " 

The two men appeared, in military precision, belted, blanketed, 
alert, and armed to the teeth. 

" I want you to proceed to the Rifle-works and find how matters 
go with Kagi. The citizens are behaving very badly, and you will 
need a hostage." 

He looked around and his eye fell on Quantrell. 

"Take that man," John Brown concluded. "He is intelligent, 
and will understand that your safety is also his." 

" Come, march ! " spoke Hazlett to Quantrell, his dull hazel eyes 
flashing unamiably. 

"Go out in front," the bright-faced Lehman said, peeping at his 
gun-stock critically ; " the man who can sing Home, Sweet Home 
can find his way back to it, I guess." 

KAGI. 167 



THEY went into the yard, and the watch-house was seen to 
now have an overflow of prisoners, so that some of them were 
loose and unarmed in the grounds. Stevens was in command 
here, striding to and fro in the beauty and regularity of manly form 
and accustomed soldiership. He glanced at Quantrell and spoke : 

" Hostage, my boy ? Well, if you ve got a guardeen angel, no 
harm can come to you." 

"Beautiful words!" thought Quantrell. "I know that I am 
guarded, from heaven and from this world, by my mother and by 
Katy s prayers ! " 

He saw that the two bridges were still guarded, by Oliver Brown 
and by William Thompson, and that the armory-gate was held. 
An ominous lull in the spluttering firing seemed to have taken place, 
and nothing stirred in the streets but hogs which had missed their 
breakfast, and dogs which discovered some evil abroad but could not 
locate it. Around the Loudoun Heights the crows were flocked 
together curiously, and their cawing and croaking came down 
through the chilly and spotted air like swallows notes down a smoky 
chimney on a rainy day. 

" Turn that way, Quantrell ! " Lehman said, pointing up Shen- 
andoah Street. 

Quantrell looked back, and both men were watching him with 
all the calculation of self-protection. 

" If you make one jump to escape," Hazlett spoke, divining 
Quantreil s mind, " I ll drop you in your shoes." 

" He can t tell how to go, Albert," muttered Lehman, more gen 
erously ; " I ll go ahead, and you bring up the rear." 

Lehman led on, and soon they came to a yellow, plastered 
school-house of two stories, with a cupola and tin globe on the roof. 

" No school to-day," Lehman cried back to Hazlett. " It makes 
me feel sorry that we ve shut up the school. Here John Cook was 
teacher, but the teacher s played the truant to-day. And the little 
log school in Maryland Will Thompson says they stopped that, 
too, and that the little children begin to cry to see John Cook bring 
in the arms and put em down by the desks." 


As they looked at this shapely school, standing under the walls 
of rock upon a little shelf of grass, like a child s toy banking-house 
upon a cottage mantel, it seemed to Quantrell that there came out 
of its open door a sound of children s laughing. 

" Stop ! " he said. " Have the little ones had the simplicity to 
come to school this bloody day ? " 

Again, upon the air, or upon the haunted mind of Quantrell, 
came children s gleeful laughter through the parted door. 

" I think I hear children," Lehman said. " Never before did it 
sound sad to me." 

" Look in ! " suggested Hazlett. 

At that moment half a dozen shots from muskets poured down 
the street from sward, shelter, or steep ahead of them. 

" Muskets ! " exclaimed Hazlett, his gun at his eye, peering for 
an enemy. " They ve got Harper s Ferry muskets from somewhere : 
I know the sound." 

" You re right ! " Quantrell spoke. " I saw them taking fixed 
ammunition out of the very armory you were guarding. Men who 
can be as bold as that, can fight you ! " 

Retreating from the fire, they had ascended to the school-house 
green, and in the pause their attenuated nerves seemed to tremble 
with the peal of play-yard laughter again. 

" Surely there are children there ! " Lehman exclaimed, his dark 
eyes in surprise dancing upon his boyish face. 

" Guardian angels for you, my lad ! " Quantrell thought to say. 

" Then they are gone ! " 

Lehman had put his ear to the open door, and all was still. 

" This school is open for the war," added Lehman, with a pallid 
smile. " If we have luck, we ll make a black folks college on Jef 
ferson s Rock ! " 

Across the road they were advancing up, a band of men appeared 
around a point of rock, and some signs of military trimmings were 
in their caps and coats. 

" Soldiers ! " exclaimed Lehman. " Albert, charge them ! " 

With Quantrell pushed before, these two men undauntedly 
marched on, firing rapidly as they proceeded. Hazlett felt a sharp 
pain in his foot and stopped : his shoe had been ripped by a bullet. 

" Bill," he said, "look there ! It s a whole company. We can t 
get to Kagi by this road." 

A large company of armed men, indeed, filled the road and part 



of the bushy steeps in the debris of the mountain, but they had been 
frightened by the decision of the two marauders, whom they prob 
ably considered to be the skirmishers of a larger force. 

Advancing with fine courage, the two men drove the company 
around a turn of the road, and then swiftly fell back to the shadow 
of the Catholic church, and, still driving Ouantrell before them up 
the cliffs, attained a dizzy street of naked rocks which led them into 
the High Street and well into the upper town. 

They kept along the sides of this street wherever open lots or 
paling gardens gave space, and so rose into the air till, at one point, 
they commanded the great amphitheatre of rivers and yawning 

" What s that ? " asked Hazlett, looking up the Potomac. " Are 
they our re-enforcements ? " 

Following his eye, Ouantrell saw men down by the shallow 7 river 
as if intending to cross ; and military accoutrements sparkled gaudily 
also there. 

"I m afraid -the country is up against us," Lehman remarked, 
" but we ve got our orders to obey and to reach Kagi, if he s alive ! " 

There was a sadness in Lehman s face which gave his resolu 
tion the beauty of courage. Hazlett, harsher, duller, without ex 
ternal grace, had no less courage, but his promptness was like 
ferocity, as if his nervous system could not carry in the tone of 
nature the strain of the occasion. 

" Young men," spoke Quantrell, " don t deceive yourselves. I 
know, by the opportunities Captain Brown has given me, the small- 
ness of your numbers. Around you are strong towns, and they 
have marched upon you from Martinsburg and from Cumberland, 
from Hagerstown and Frederick, from Charlestown and Winchester, 
from Lexington and Richmond ! Yes, from Baltimore and from 
Washington ! You look so lonely to me on this ragged mountain, 
like little sprats in the jaws of a whale, =that I want to see you 
escape ! " 

" Here s John Cook s mother-in-law s," Hazlett said, pointing to 
a house in the cross-street, called by the name of The Union of the 
American States, so much imperiled this day ; " John s safe across 
the river, anyway." 

"It s just like him to return," the boyish Lehman answered; 
"but I hope he won t, and maybe he won t, because his wife s safe 
in Pennsylvania. I hope she ll draw him there." 


" Lehman, were you ever in love ? " 

" A little ; not enough to hurt. I m glad no girl will break her 
heart for me when " 

"You die," finished Quantrell. "I m afraid, Lehman, you will 
never see that lowering sun go down again." 

"There s heaven, I calkelate," said Lehman, looking up ; "and 
they say that s ever sunny. Mr. Quantrell, I wish we could get 
somewhere down here among the bushes and rocks and hear you 
sing Home, Sweet Home again. It seems as if I wanted to hear 
it now. What is this music that it takes hold of people so ? Do men 
make it up, or do they hear it from somewheres and remember it ? " 

The dark-eyed boy, with no tremor in his voice or steps, asked 
this question on the high plateau with the simplicity of innocence, 
though beleaguered round till there seemed no outlet for him but 
some miracle of wings by which he might fly into the gray and 
hungry heaven he had spoken of. 

" O men, why did you come here ? " Lloyd Quantrell asked, 
almost in bitterness, thinking of scenes of cruelty he might live to 
witness upon these men, as living and perceiving as himself. 

"I heard a call," young Lehman simply said; "I thought it 
came from God. If it came from the devil, that s another sin of 
his n to answer for." 

" I heard an invitation," Hazlett said. " Tain t often I wake to 
poetry or glory, but I thought this invitation was about right. I 
hefted of it, and it was jus comfor ble like." 

As Hazlett spoke, he balanced his carbine in one hand, for 
practical examplification. 

" How could John Cook marry a young wife here and become a 
father, while planning all this blood and insurrection ? How could 
he teach children in Harper s Ferry, and be so treacherous ? " 

" Oh," Lehman answered, " God had his Hebrew spies. Love 
grows anywhere. John didn t come here to get in love, but he was 
lonesome, and love, I calkelate, peeped into the school-house. You 
are sent to school, maybe, to study and improve your time, but 
some day you look up from your book and see a little girl swinging 
her pretty feet as she hums, B-a ba ; b-e be ; b-i bi ! The book 
flies out of your head ; the girl slips into your heart, and next thing 
it s b-i by, and b-a ba, and by-o-baby by!" 

Singing this like a lullaby, Lehman and his companions both 
laughed cordially, but not long, for Hazlett said, reflectively : 



" There s no doubt about John Cook loving his wife. If he 
hadn t been a man of some sand she d have weaned him from his 
work. He did all the dangerous work : peddled books from farm 
to farm among the savage dogs, and rinding where we had friends 
or foes. If any negro had betrayed his talk, the white men here 
would have burned John alive. John Cook s vain, but he s a better 
spy than Major Andre ever was, and he never was trapped." 

Thus talking, they descended open lots and fields between the 
officers dwellings on the high upland and the raveling houses of 
Union Street, which continued toward the Shenandoah like another 
town, unaware of Harper s Ferry proper. Many thickets of cedar 
and pine, chestnut and brush, girted the hill-slopes between which 
this street picked its precarious way, and so they kept somewhat 
concealed until they reached an open rock right over the Shenan 
doah, and so close upon it that only the roofs of the Rifle-works 
beneath them could be seen ; bell-tower and chimneys, foaming 
waste water, sycamore and willow trees, trim walls and comely 
grounds, and, beyond, the river singing its plaint to the stern 
mountains and captive town ; and far away, to the southwest, this 
river ascended in light-green islets like an archipelago of moss in 
crystalline cascades, miles upward, as if the forests had opened for 
the blue horizon to melt through. 

"What s that out yonder? " Hazlett exclaimed. " Is that Kagi? 
They re firing at him ! He s not going without a shot ? " 

" Captain Brown told him not to use force," Lehman said ; 
" only to hold the Rifle-works if he could." 

Rattling musketry from unseen places below, and white smoke 
rising subsequently up the rocks, showed that a conflict of some 
kind was taking place. 

Following Hazlett s eyes, Ouantrell saw a few men in blankets 
and wool hats, and carrying short guns, run along from cover to 
cover, fired upon as they were exposed, but only pretending to fire 
back, and as they reached the Shenandoah shore one of them threw 
up his hands and fell into the river. 

They all disappeared in a few minutes, and next were seen other 
men, with longer guns, following from cover to cover until they re 
placed the others near the river-brink, and there crouched down or 
found some shelter, and proceeded to load and fire with great energy 
and method. 

In a little while there appeared at some distance in the river, men 



wading, with their short guns held above their heads. There were 
three of them whom Quantrell could see, and they sank deeper and 
deeper into the brawling but treacherous-bottomed stream, some 
times carried off their feet and swimming to a shallower part, where 
they found foothold again. 

One was a negro. Quantrell immediately identified him as the 
man Copeland who had threatened his life in the cave. 

The bullets of the attacking parties on the shore cut the water 
all around these men, and the balls could be seen to strike and 
make jets of water fly, and in a little while one of the white men put 
his hand quickly to his breast, drew his gun, motioned as if to aim 
it, and fell over in the current, and floated down toward the low cas 
cade or breast in the stream. 

At this scene the negro, who was also wading, lost self-control, 
and began to plunge and stumble in the river, making his way to 
ward a rock nearly exposed above the current, and plainly seen from 
the shore by the ripple it made. 

He climbed upon this rock, and, if he possessed a gun, it was not 
now visible ; the bullets fell around him, and he faced the shore with 
a gesture of both rage and dread, grasping the stone with one hand. 

It seemed to Quantrell, as he looked at that tired human being, 
with the open mouth and the eyeballs straining wide, that the wild 
roar of the river was Copeland s panting breath, full of the heart 
beats of despair. 

A gun exploded at Quantrell s side, and, as if obeying it, another 
gun immediately went off. 

The people along- the shore, who had meantime become bolder 
and bolder, hearing these shots, looked back and ran to shelter 
again, but there was one man, indifferent to danger, or inflamed by 
drink or rage, who deliberately waded in the water toward the negro 
on the rock. 

Hazlett and Lehman shot again at this pursuer, who turned 
his face toward the shore, and, still wading, raised his hand de 

By the time they had made ready to fire again, the man was 
too close to the negro for them to shoot one without imperiling 

The man seized the negro, pulled himself up on the same rock, 
struck the negro in the face a blow so powerful that it seemed the 
spectators could hear it, and, as the mulatto, Copeland, came up 



from the water gasping and struggling, it was seen that his assailant 
had also seized his gun, and, pointing it at him, began to drive him 

" I reckon you fellows have got your match in these Harper s 
Ferryers," Ouantrell said, turning to look at his guards. 

They were both deeply attentive, yet cool ; Hazlett had fallen to 
his knee to aim, and Lehman was drawing his gun to his shoulder, 
and it seemed to Ouantrell that his bright black eye at the barrel 
might set the powder off. 

The black man was seized by strong and fierce hands as he arose 
from the stream, and it was plain that he was being knocked down 
and maltreated. 

Into the huddle of men around him the rifle-balls of Lehman 
and Hazlett were poured ; they took the ammunition from pouches 
at their sides, loaded at the breech with quick motion, and fired 
again and again. 

The captors of Copeland broke and fled to the protection of the 
Rifle-works, carrying the negro along. 

"Come!" exclaimed Hazlett; "they will surround us in a 

" Stop ! " said Lehman ; " where s Kagi ? " 

"He s almost safe," Hazlett answered; "see, he s half-way 
over ! " 

Looking farther along the breast of the hurrying river, Lloyd 
saw a form floating upon its back, with face turned upward, and 
rapidly going down the current, yet by a method, so that it took ad 
vantage of the eddies and expanded the distance between itself and 

This man s arm held his gun aloft and paddled with one hand 
and the feet, and when it seemed that he was about to go over the 
falls he suddenly found a shoal, and stood up and looked at his gun 
carefully, as if now ready for action. 

Quantrell divined this man before he saw the long black hair, 
portly figure, and manly proportions rise and be denoted. 

It was Kagi, floating face upward, toward the unseen stars. 

" He will not feed the worm just yet, Ouantrell thought. 

As Kagi stood up, he became the only remaining object of fire 
from the Rifle-works ; the balls fell around him, but did not seem 
to strike near. He raised his gun to his shoulder, and the dark 
scowl of his countenance seemed to be interpreted by his fine, belted 


form, and elbows balanced beyond his hips, and the poise of his 
bearded and long-maned head and neck. 

" Why don t he shoot ? " muttered Hazlett, looking from undei 
his red eyebrows with the greatest interest. 

" Orders ! " whispered Hazlett ; " he s second in command, and 
the adjutant, and he s too good a soldier to break orders." 

The fire on Kagi was now extraordinary. Not only did the con 
cealed men in and about the Rifle-works make him a target, and aim 
with increasing coolness and care, but from the large island below 
and its mills and tenements other persons were trying iheir skill 
upon him and bringing him under a cross-fire, and from the heights 
nearly over OuantreH s head concealed persons were shooting; and, 
as he once looked up, he saw a woman of large frame, but almost 
girlish face, aiming a rifle, and as it flashed she disappeared. 

The nearly perpendicular crags were fringed with little boys, 
some firing old horse-pistols, others throwing stones, and Kagi was 
the only living object of hate to engage their attention. 

It was now later than midday, a Monday after Sabbath rest, 
when the energies of workmen were fresher than on other days, and 
all these energies were madly alert to find and destroy the purloin- 
ers of their wages, who kept the armories idle, and halted men and 
governments. Having had a taste of blood, the furious instincts of 
all were aroused for a full meal, and Kagi was the only game in plain 

As the bullets, passing over the intervening thousand or more 
feet of river, fretted the surface like hailstones, Kagi raised his hand 
and pointed toward the Loudoun Mountain, and shook his head as 
if to say, "I m safe beyond the worm." Ouantrell, remembering 
Kagi s apprehensions on past occasions, mentally translated his 
gesture of contempt and confidence in that figure of speech. 

Beyond Kagi, who was within a few rods of the farther shore 
and its low strand of mountain debris and brush, there was a deep 
eddy among large rocks, where the current could be seen foaming 
mightily, and this he must cross to gain the wooded mountains and 
their lonely depths. No dwelling was on that farther shore except 
some fishermen s huts of drift-wood, and no clearing but a patch of 
wild garden exposed to the freshets ; the solemn mountain reared 
its head among the crows and vultures like some prancing horse 
with insects flocking in its mane. 

Kagi finally prepared himself for the endeavor ; his companions 



were all dead or taken at the Rifle-works, and he drew his belt tight, 
raised his gun and blanket high above his head, and stepped into 
the boiling surface and went down, down, until he sank from view ! 

" He s drowned ! " spoke Hazlett, breathlessly. 

" No, he s come up," said Lehman, in a moment ; " he s a good 

As Kagi rose it was seen that he was floating upon his back, his 
head thrown backward, and his rich beard raised with his chin into 
the air. His gun-barrel pointed upward. The river moaned loudly, 
because all had ceased firing. 

In a moment more Kagi had reached a gentle ripple, where he 
could rise and stand. 

" Thank God, he s beat them all ! " spoke Lehman. 

As Kagi stood and shook himself like a water-dog, he looked 
back no more, but straight upward, toward the ceiling of the day on 
the mountain cornice. 

" He s thanking his star now ! " said Ouantrell, between his teeth ; 
" it s served him well." 

" Great man !" young Lehman remarked, reverently; he s not 
as good a soldier, maybe, as Captain Stevens, but full of head and 
devotion. He s our statesman , we had a poet, too, but hes not re 
liable, I calkelate." 

They saw Kagi fold his arms and look around him, like another 
William Tell, rejoicing in the freedom of the mountains. He gazed 
everywhere intently, on earth and shore, flowing water and cold gray 
sky, cloud and bird, and then raised up his arms and gun and en 
tered the water again, where it flowed very deep against the rock- 
bound margin. 

"Another minute," said Lloyd Ouantrell, "and he ll vanish in 
the woods. " 

Suddenly, from the thick bushes which partly shut in the Loudoun 
shore, there burst a volley of sound and flame, so quick, so unex 
pected, that it turned every eye away. 

Men were seen there firing again and again. 

" He s cut off," Ouantrell said ; "the worm has inherited him." 

Kagi had disappeared ; the firing ceased. 

" He s sunk ! " young Lehman muttered. "Oh, Captain Brown 
has lost his best man ! " 

" Look there ! " Hazlett gasped, with open mouth ; " he s swim 
ming again." 



In the rapid current under the shore Kagi s body was floating, 
but not with the chin up; the rich beard had dropped upon the 
breast ; the long hair floated like blackened weed in the eddies ; the 
face was white as a silver coin, or the reflection of a belated star in 
Morning s countenance. 

With agitation and a sick stomach, Quantrell had produced his 
flask of spirits. 

" Poor soul ! " he exclaimed as he drank the draught ; " I drink 
to the worm that distills him to the stars." 



" COME ! " exclaimed Hazlett to Quantrell, speaking with a pale 
face and eyes yet muddier in color, as if these were not both of 
the same hue. " Keep on before us, or we ll leave you with your 

" You must be our prisoner back to Captain Brown," said Leh 
man, also handling his gun, marksman-fashion. 

"I ve felt the fear of death myself to-day where I seemed to 
have no chance at all," Lloyd replied, " and I don t want to see you 
fellows murdered before my eyes." 

He led the way up through the ravines and cedars ; bullets came 
after them from the rifle-works, but they soon got into the grounds 
of the commandant on the hill-top ; and, as the Potomac burst into 
view, soldiery were seen upon the Maryland shore, marching down 
behind the tow-path. Hazlett beheld them and turned pale. 

" It looks like our bein surrounded, Will," he spoke. 

"I calkelate they re our re-enforcements," Lehman replied, his 
boyish countenance looking toward that shore with a gentle longing ; 
" but I wish we was over there ; for I grew to like Maryland. 
What do you think, Mr. Quantrell ? " 

" My lads, I shall see you all die before my eyes, like Kagi and 
Leary, unless you can cross that Potomac bridge before yonder men 
reach it. Your killing me won t save yourselves. Do, for mercy s 
sake, run for the bridge ! " 

" Not I," Lehman said, " without Captain Brown." 



" He s got us into this," Hazlett spoke ; " we ll try to get to him, 
and maybe we can cross the Shenandoah bridge." 

They had now come on the flanks of High Street and were keep 
ing down it, sheltering from observation wherever possible ; Quan- 
trell going ahead, and the other two concealing their short guns in 
their blankets and hiding their belts of knives and pistols. 

Suddenly the sound of horse s hoofs was heard upon the turn 
pike s stones, and before they could secrete themselves a fine-look 
ing, martial-riding man was right upon them, going at a gallop. 

Both Hazlett and Lehman dropped a hand to their concealed 
revolvers and measured the man s body with an inner light of mean 
ing in their eyes. 

" Whaw aw they ? Whaw aw they ? " he cried. A rifle was over 
his shoulder. 

" Whaw who ? " Lehman exclaimed, with mischief-like inno 

" The Arabs who have dragged my friend Colonel Washington 
from his bed." 

" Down yonder." Quantrell waved his hand toward the lower 

" I ll settle with them," hallooed the rider, " whawever they aw. 
I ll die fo my friend, sah." 

As he pricked his horse on, Hazlett raised his pistol. 

" I ll drop him in the road," said Hazlett; "it s against orders 
for citizens to carry arms, and that man s a trained soldier. Look 
at his square, straight shoulders." 

Quantrell struck the pistol down with his hand. 

" Don t kill that man for risking his life for his friend," he en 
treated. " Every life you take will be reckoned against you. Kill 
me, if you want a life ! " 

While Hazlett stared muddily at Quantrell, as if going to cut 
him to pieces, a voice was heard calling : 

" Come on ! come on, heah ! " 

They saw the negro Ashby, who had climbed the hills from the 
river, and all hastened toward him. 

"De armory s mos tuk," he said. " Dey got Thompson off n 
de bridge. Dar s no way to git to Cap n Brown now but by de big 
gate, an solgers is stoppin up boff de bridges. Cap n Brown says 
come quick and bring Cap n Kagi s comman to him." 

" Kagi s killed, Ashby," Quantrell spoke ; " he and all his men 



but one Copeland, the mulatto. What will happen to him the 
angels fear to know ! " 

" O my God ! " the negro sighed, in agony of fear and sorrow. 

There trotted in their midst the pointer-dog Albion, insinuating 
and mysterious as ever. His muzzle was as straight out as his 
tail ; his leg pawed with nothing, kitten-like ; his fine white spots in 
the brown neck seemed like flies in stale liver at butchers stalls ; 
the outcast life of a single forenoon had gone thus far toward de 
moralizing animals and men. 

Albion rather fawned upon all the party, and showed a suspi 
cious recognition of their friendship, which may have led Lehman 
to say : 

" Albert, I shall go by the upper yard. Twon t do for both of 
us to be took. You go by the town and take these two men along. 
One of us, I calkelate, if not both, will get to Captain Brown that 

The two men clasped each other s hands. 

" Fight, Will, and never be taken ! " Hazlett said. 

" I ll do my best, Albert. If the worst comes, we ve got friends 
across the river and friends up yonder, too ! " 

He looked to heaven, and a tear filled his bright eye. 

" Forward now, both of you ! " Hazlett exclaimed; as Lehman 
disappeared down the raveling face of the heights, and he drove 
Ashby and Ouantrell down the road before him, his rifle and eye 
equally sentient and ready. 

" Ashby," whispered Ouantrell, " by hurrying, you may cross the 
Potomac Bridge before the troops in Maryland seize it. Remember 
my directions ! Go to Bosler s, in Catoctin Valley. Here is all my 
money. Let Luther go and buy you, and hasten to me." 

" Mosster," said the negro, taking the gold pieces with fear, 
" what makes you trust me ? " 

" The fear of God ! " said Quantrell. " Something in this world 
is wrong, and I want to lend to the Lord." 

" God bless you, mosster !" said the negro, huskily; " I ll try to 
git away, faw yo sake ! " 

No sympathetic light was in the man Hazlett s eyes, and he 
watched them both with a merciless energy, the greater because he 
was now wholly self-dependent. 

Quantrell remembered the acts of rowdyism he had assisted in 
toward unarmed and helpless foreigners, and wondered if it was in 



the remembrance of mercy to save his life. He remembered the 
contemptuous idea he had entertained of the courage of " Yankees," 
whom he had nearly included among the " foreigners," and asked 
himself if he dared, even with the negro Ashby s neutrality, or 
possible help, to fall upon this hard, self-reliant, unadorned fellow in 
the rear, and contend with him to the death. 

He turned twice, with this thought in his mind, and, steady as a 
common, regular soldier of the line, Hazlett was looking at him with 
his eyes, and, Lloyd thought, with his wrists too, so supple were 
those wrists with weapons and sensibility. 

" He is a Western man," mused our hero ; " all of them are 
Western men. What is this West I have heard so little of in my 
geography ? When did it arise ? And is it all for abolition ? " 

They now had entered the short, closely settled, down-hill por 
tion of the street, where shops, sign-posts, small bay-windows, low 
er areas and ladders into back yards, upper verandas, mechanics 
stalls, flights of stairs toward precipices, overhanging dormers, 
flaunting clothes on clothes-lines, and all the accompaniments of a 
disturbed or suddenly deserted town, closed around them tattered 
and grimy in the narrow throat of Harper s Ferry. 

Guns and pistols and old blunderbusses began to rattle again in 
the hollow depths of the place, and the rain drizzled from the spotted 
sky above. At the foot of the street they saw the dog Albion, 
which had. rushed on before, barking at a hog that was too familiar 
with the dead body of Newby, lying there. 

No forms were to be seen in the street, but the heads of some 
men appeared beneath the stoops or basements of porches, all 
turned down toward the dead negro and the street which crossed 
that one Ouantrell was descending. The reason for this was plain 
when, in a moment, two men, like Brown s followers, stepped out 
from the arsenal side there and fired up the street. 

The men down in the intrenched and recessed basements of the 
shops returned the fire in another instant. 

" This way ! " Hazlett called, hoarsely, pointing up the hill to the 

A scrap of street found lodgment in there, and, going the same 
way as the High Street, soon left it far below. 

In the intensity of the moment Ouantrell saw all things in the 
view the chimneys, the chickens picking garbage in the street, carts 
uptilted at the curbs, plastered walls, and stone and brick escarp- 


ments on the roofs, uneven pavements of blue limestone, wild chil 
dren yet without breakfast screaming or sleeping up the tenement 
halls and alleys ; and, finally, the Catholic church at the cornice and 
ridge of everything, holding its pale golden cross to the moody 
heavens, and by its side the bell, suspended in a derrick of timber, 
seemed to be taking a second nap after having called in vain for 
others to arise. 

Again the Shenandoah was seen beyond the mills and islands, 
cowering as it ran beneath the great gnarled mountain. Again, the 
mighty, scarred form of Maryland Heights reared back like a be 
headed buffalo. The blended rivers, breaking in ripples over grid 
irons of rock, went down the mountain vistas like fugitive hosts of 
dead-faced people, flying from the wrath of Nature ; or the volcano s 
lava-channel in the sheen of the moon. 

But in this general awe there was indifference too the indiffer 
ence of the great to the little, of the torpid to the quick ; the indif 
ference of the basking crocodile to the bees upon his jaws ; the in- 
considerateness of mountains, after their convulsion, to the writhing 
of the birds that serpents in their bowels charm ; the languor of old 
geology in its nap of cycles to the newsboy s darling revolution of 
some few people slain in riots. 

John Brown had made no impression upon the trance of Nature. 
The hollow ear of heaven bending overhead considered him not 
he, nor the perishing insects he had disciplined for another skirmish 
in the brief antiquity of freedom. 

" Ashby, I see the men in Maryland yonder. You have time to 
cross the bridge just time, not a moment to spare ! " 

" Come on, then, and go before ! " cried Hazlett, descending the 
ragged natural steps from the church to the street. 

As they crept down these steps, shot rattled in the High Street 
below, and Quantrell and Ashby hesitated. 

" I ll take a shot," spoke Hazlett, with a deadly zest for combat 
in his heavy eyes ; and, stepping down, he raised his gun and fired 
up the street. 

" I left my mark that time," Hazlett said, surveying his work and 
opening his rifle-breech. " Now for the next slave-catcher ! " 

He had barely spoken when a ball or wad, or other instrument 
of percussion, struck his cartridge-box, and it began to explode, like 
Chinese fire-crackers. One by one the deadly projectiles broke 
forth, each with its cylinder of lead, and Hazlett sought in vain to 


throw it away from him, but the belt would not come loose. He 
danced in a frenzy of endeavor and apprehension, balls tearing his 
clothes, others whizzing near Ouantrell s head ; and the sight was so 
ludicrous that, as Lloyd threw himself down, he began to laugh till 
the tears came to his eyes. 

" He s all fired out, I reckon, now," Ashby exclaimed, as the ex 
plosions ceased. " What mus I do ? " 

" Run for the bridge ! Tell him to run with you ! Remember 
Crampton s Gap, the Catoctin Valley, and Jake Bosler s farm." 

" I m goin ," said the negro. " Come, Mr. Hazlett, fo yo life ! " 

As Hazlett turned to look at Quantrell, the latter had a rock in 
his hand. 

" I ll kill you if you come here !" Quantrell cried ; "your carbine 
is empty and your cartridges are all gone. Keep off ! " 

Hazlett slipped across the street into the lane by the river. In 
a moment Lloyd saw him appear in the space before the armory- 
gate, where he hesitated, as if thinking to turn in. The negro Ash- 
by dashed past him and ran toward the bridge. 

Being fired upon from the houses and hill-tops, Hazlett affected 
to be aiming his empty piece, and, stooping down and backing off, 
he finally disappeared behind the corner at the arsenal, and next 
was seen upon the bridge, running after Ashby at the top of his 

Both men ran, and Lloyd followed them with intense interest. 
He felt that the colored man s life had already been interposed for 
his, and might be his hostage with Destiny again. 

The soldiers on the Maryland shore were very near the bridge, 
also, and now began to run toward it, firing their pieces. 

It was a race for life with Hazlett and his dusky associate. 

In another moment Quantrell saw both these men emerge from 
the distant end of the bridge, and steal along the base of the heights 
toward Pleasant Valley and the roofs of Sandy Hook. 

" I ve made a banker of a negro, who has every inducement to 
run away," Lloyd Quantrell said, " and yet, I don t believe he will ; 
for, queerly enough, I never heard of a negro committing a breach 
of trust." 

He peeped around the abutments of rock and houses at the foot 
of the stone steps. 

Some townspeople were huddled beneath a low porch, looking 
down intently at an object they also sought to raise. 


" That may be Hazlett s victim," Quantrell thought. " I ll see." 

He came unarmed with raised hands among them, merely say 
ing " Prisoner," and looked down at the form of an athletic, bleed 
ing man on the stones of an old stoop or arcade. 

Quantrell recognized the horseman who had been galloping to 
save his friend ; he was shot in the shoulder and neck, and was al 
ready dead, yet warm. 

" Lay him back, that-a-way, like a ossifer ! " said one of the men, 
rifle in hand, seeking to see both the street-corner and the dead man. 
" He s a West-P inter, an they likes to die with their shoulders stiff." 

Stretched out upon the stones of Harper s Ferry, the first gradu 
ate of the United States Military Academy, to perish in the conflict 
of slavery, lay trembling in the rich red chevron of his heart s blood. 

"George Turner loved Lew Washington," spoke another man; 
"they was chums. They liked their juleps jess the same; one 
would mix for t other, and t other preferred his n to he own. It s 
true he died tryin to shoot, for he was, as you may say, a eddi- 
cated ossifer." 

" Take him off the street, friends," Quantrell said. " Lay him in 
the house. Greater love hath no man than this that he lay down 
his life for his friend ! " 



" THREE citizens already killed ; -that is, two citizens and a nig 
ger," Quantrell heard remarked, as he slipped across the Shenandoah 
Street to the railroad there, and, passing behind the arsenal, gained 
the exposed saloon on the railroad-track, where he had fought the 
Logans only sixteen hours before. 

He now saw a sign over the door of this single-story frame sa 
loon, " Gault House." 

It was a cheap, perishable building, without social position or 
appearance, and yet, in the inconsistency of time, it remains down 
to the author s day, one of the three unimpaired monuments of 
ruined Harper s Ferry : these three monuments are the Catholic 
church on the hill, John Brown s Engine-House or " Fort " in the 
desolate armory-yard, and this saloon by the Shenandoah bridge 


representatives of the three active principles of our century : Tra 
dition, Revolution, and Alcohol other words for Faith, Hope, and 
the Poor-House, or Charity ; and now, as of old, the greatest of 
these is Alcohol or Charity. 

" Let me in ! " cried Ouantrell, and, the door opening, he leaped 
in, and there was instant darkness. 

" Who are you ? " said a familiar voice. 

" Why, Mr. Beall, I m Mr. Ouantrell, who made your acquaint 
ance last night " ; and there arose upon the dark the fine, natural 
tones of our hero, singing : 

" Glenorchy s proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers, 
Glenstrae, and Glenlyon, no longer are ours : 
We re landless, landless, landless, Grigalach ! " 

The song brought admiration and low inquiries, " Who is he ? " 
and John Beall vouched for Ouantrell s courage ; and when Lloyd 
told that he had been a prisoner, and what he had seen of Kagi s 
band falling, and of Turner s death but an instant before, all breath 
lessly listened, and then the back door was thrown open. 

It was seen that a narrow and railed veranda ran along the back 
of the saloon, overhanging the foaming Shenandoah far below, and 
this veranda almost gave access to the Shenandoah bridge, whose 
rock abutment adjoined the saloon. 

" Mr. Quantrell," spoke Beall, his face serious to the verge of 
gloom, " a few of us are holding this place with the greatest cau 
tion, because we believe it to be the key of the situation. We keep 
the front closed and have fired no shot from here, because the ene 
my with his rifles, from the engine-house, can riddle this thin build 
ing. We expect to kill him all that there is left of him when he 
retreats across the Potomac bridge. He must pass right in front of 
this house to get to the bridge, and we want to kill ever} man he 
has ! " 

The suppressed energy of the speaker called Quantrell s atten 

" Why, John," he said, " you would pity the poor devils if you 
had seen them, as I have, falling in the river, lying in the streets, 
hungry, absurd, misled, weeded out." 

" No," replied Beall, trembling, " I want to kill every man of 
them ! We re lying low here, to shoot them down at their last 
chance ! We let one scoundrel pass just now, lest we might draw 


every rifle in that engine-house upon us and spoil our full revenge, 

" Indeed, you re a Scotchman, John, and Highlander too, I reckon. 
But, of course, I m with you. Where s William Thompson, the 
raider who guarded the Shenandoah bridge ? " 

" Taken. He s over in the hotel." 

Beall s eyes smoldered, and his eyebrows and mouth were both 
drawn straight and hard. 

" How did you capture the bridge ? " 

" From this saloon. We crept upon the guard, an unsuspecting 
fellow, and getting him fast, sent a detachment across the bridge to 
kill any who might escape from the Rifle-works." 

Not a smile nor gratulation was in all this ; a devout Indian, 
reciting the fate of the enemies he had doomed for the manes of his 
father, might have been less intense. 

" I saw them die, John. It was a terrible scene." 

" I should like to have witnessed it. But the leader is still 
yonder! " 

He pointed to the engine-house, with a face drawn so hard to 
gether from the jaw to the skull, that every feature seemed to be a 
plain line. Reflective hate lay coldly there, incapable now of other 

Quantrell looked at the other occupants of the sinister place at 
the saloon-keeper, with long, fox-red beard, who was continually 
stroking it, and with eyes wide apart. 

" Forty drops," said the saloon-keeper. " Come up ! " 

He went behind the dusky bar and set the bottle out, and peeped 
through a hole in the shutter at the engine-house laying hand, 
meanwhile, upon the long revolver there, which had been in Lloyd s 
custody the night before. 

"They re all caged in the engine-house," the saloon-man said. 
" Hello ! yonder s one coming down the yard." 

They peeped successively at the hole, and, when Lloyd s turn 
came, he saw in the vista of the armory-yard two men, one with a 
gun, keeping the other man between him and a party of armed men, 
who now and then fired a shot, but, seeking not to injure the host 
age, they did no execution. 

" That s Lehman ! " Quantrell exclaimed. " And, upon my word, 
the fellow running is Andrew Atzerodt ! " 

"Here, gentlemen," the warm-bearded saloon-keeper spoke; 


" we ll close the back door, and that will darken the room, so we may 
see, and be unseen, out of the glass door, by keeping back from the 
light a little." 

He raised the blind, and they could all see. 

The landlord brought out his pistol, which was nearly as long 
as one of the outlaws rifles, and it had a skeleton breech which 
made it a veritable gun to rest against his shoulder. He rolled the 
great steel chamber, charged with six slugs like Minie balls, between 
his thumb and finger, to see if it was true and well oiled. 

" I hope there s a dead man in every cartridge," he said. * That s 
my pious design." 

They all gazed at the boy Lehman, skirmishing with twenty 
enemies. The balls from the hills and town would tear up the 
ground around him and cut twigs from the elm and maple trees, 
and Atzerodt would fall upon the ground till Lehman s rifle covered 
him, and then he would start up with wide, imploring arms, only to 
be paralyzed by the open muzzle of the rifle. 

" That boy s dead game," the saloon-keeper said ; " but our 
friends are shooting very poor." 

" Lehman don t want to kill anybody," Ouantrell said. " He can 
drop a man with every ball, if he wants to." 

They now observed one man at the angle of a building behind 
Lehman, deliberately aiming at his back. The pistol exploded, but 
only Atzerodt fell down, and lay like one stone-dead. 

Lehman turned upon the man, whose gun was how uncharged, 
and raised his rifle at him. 

The man fell on his knees. 

" Now he ll blow his head right off ! " said the saloon-keeper. 

As they looked, in the excitement of almost mortal suspense, 
they saw Lehman knock the pistol out of the man s hand and dis 
appear behind the same angle of wall from which his assassination 
had been sought. 

Atzerodt jumped up and ran at the top of his speed. 

The man whose life had been spared, rose to his feet and quickly 
reloaded, rammed and capped his pistol, and started in the direction 
Lehman had gone. 

" Forty drops," said the saloon-keeper. " Come up ! " 

Every man around the bar had a weapon of some kind, and they 
drank with the zest of hunters. Beall alone was abstinent and 


" Will this insult upon Virginia ever be wiped off? " he said to 

" We entertained your invaders in Maryland," Quantrell replied ; 
" that must be atoned for." 

All looked carefully at their weapons, like fishermen inspecting 
their tackle. The splutter of gunnery in the street was continued. 

" Gentlemen," spoke Quantrell, "I want to see the fate of little 
Lehman, and, by your leave, I ll make a dash for the railway-sta 

Before there could be objection, he had opened the door and 
closed it behind him. 

A very few steps brought him upon the railroad bridge, and he 
looked in wonder at the changed scene around him. 

Men were everywhere upon both bridges, on the strands of the 
rivers, upon both shores opposite, and crowding the railway-station 
and fringing the hills ; and from every safe place guns were shooting 
at the little engine-house in the armory-yard, which began to show 
the marks of a bombardment : its doors were ripped and splintered, 
the trees around it clipped of twigs and steins ; and yet it was lan 
guidly returning fire from, the fresh port-holes and from the partly 
open doors, where now a man could be seen crouching and another 

As Quantrell came to the station and hotel, he heard a voice 

" O Heywood, speak ! What will yo po wife say to me ? He s 
gone. He s dead ! Now get me a gun. I want a robber s life ! " 

Lloyd saw the negro porter lying still, and felt his body, which 
was already partly cold. 

"I know whaw I can find a pistol," spoke the mayor of the 
town and station agent ; " I ll git it and return." 

He dashed toward the Gault House saloon, and Quantrell swung 
down the railway trestle-work to the Potomac strand and crept along 
that churning river, stooping low. There were men lying flat upon 
their breasts from point to point, seeking to send a shot into the 
engine-house, and nearly every trestle-post had thus its revenger. 

Running fast, the Baltimorean soon had passed most of the ar 
mory buildings, but was arrested by the whizzing of a ball within 
an inch, as it seemed, of his head. 

He glanced across the river, in Maryland, and saw a puff of 
smoke rising from a place along the lower mountain-side ; beneath 


the smoke was a human form. Quantrell s eyes were keen, and he 
made out the person to be his late assailant, little Captain Cook. 

If Cook it was, he had a fall in greatness, for shots from Har 
per s Ferry hills passed over Quantrell s head, and the person upon 
the mountain was seen in another instant to be rolling down the 
slope and then to lie quite still. 

Lloyd s attention was immediately drawn to a man running from 
the upper end of the armory-yard right into the brawling and, at 
places, dangerous Potomac. 

From pool to pool, and eddy to eddy, and from rock to rock, 
this man continued on, rapid, lithe, active, and manifestly meaning 
to ford the entire river or to perish in it. 

The reason was soon manifest : a large body of armed men, in 
compact order, came across the armory mill-race and fired a volley 
at the fugitive. 

He fell and lost his gun, but in a moment was up again, and he 
crawled upon a dry rock far out in the river and feebly held up his 

Quantrell could see, even then, a cheerful look, like a smile, upon 
his almost child-like face. 

" Lehman ! " was Lloyd s inward recognition ; "I m glad he sur 
renders his eyes are so beautiful ! " 

The firing ceased ; but one man was also rapidly wading the 
river toward Lehman, and something about him seemed familiar. 

" Why, that s the man," Quantrell inwardly remarked, " whose 
life Will Lehman saved but a minute ago. It s natural that he 
should want to save the poor lad s life." 

The man went on and did not hesitate, for Lehman continued 
to show the genial countenance of one submitting to capture, and 
to spread his hands apart in the hallowed way our common Saviour 

The man came right upon him but did not grapple with him. 

Lehman seemed to speak to him pleasantly, and Lloyd thought 
he could see the boy s large eyes bright with pain and gratitude. 

The man suddenly pulled a pistol from his pocket, pointed it at 
Lehman s face, so close that he nearly touched it, and fired. 

A cry o mixed exultation and horror burst from the soldiers on 
the shore. 

Lehman fell upon the rock helpless, with a great hole in his 


The man returned the pistol to his garments and drew a knife, 
and began to cut the skirts and pockets from Lehman s clothes. 

By the stillness of the form upon the rock, Lloyd knew that 
Death, the invisible vulture, had as instantly alighted there. 

The man now waded ashore, bearing papers and other things 
taken from the dead man. 

" Fall in, Martinsburgers ! " the command rang out ; " we ll carry 
the engine-house next ! " 

They marched down the armory-yard, and Ouantrell was left 

He also waded into the water and made his way toward Leh 

The boy lay silent upon the stone, the roaring rapids being his 
lullaby. His head had fallen backward, and his hairs were toyed 
with by the cool waters. 

" Will, look up ! I m your friend ! " 

The late tired legs of Lehman, which had walked all night and 
day upon a willful yet immortal errand crossing the river to and 
from the farm three times in one night and morning clasped the 
stone in the rigid manner of one who meant to hold fast and to bear 

How solemn, how awful, seemed the sighing waters to Quantrell, 
waist-deep in them ! No noise besides filled the air. It was as lone 
ly as being drowned, to stand alone beside this uncomplaining man. 

Quantrell bent over the rock, but only once. 

What he saw there was too horrible for him ever to repeat. 

Steadying himself upon the stone, Lloyd saved himself from 
swooning, though sick to the temples. He dipped his head into the 
waters, but, when he lifted it, some of Lehman s blood in the water 
fell down upon his hands. 

" He asked me to sing, somewheres down among the bushes and 
rocks, the words of Sweet Home. I ll do it among the waters and 
rocks, for it will be his only Christian burial." 

Quantrell raised his voice and sang : 

" Home, home, sweet home ! 
There s no place like home 
There s no place like home." 

" Poor lad ! " he finished, " there s no home for him now but 
where he calculated it was ever sunny." 


With a tear in his eye, Ouantrell turned to the shore, and when 
he gained it he looked back once, and Lehman lay there still, like 
one of nature s bowlders rolled in the deluges of time. 

As Lloyd picked his way down the armory-yard he marked the 
powerful water accompanying the long line of shops, conducted be 
hind them in a stone canal and, after driving wheels and cogs, 
grindstones and automatic turning-lathes, drills and trip-hammers, 
the mill-water then gushed beneath the ground, in arched places, 
to be used in a second line of shops, and then to fall back into the 

Here a gun-stock had fallen to perfection every eight seconds ; 
every day of earnest labor manufactured sixty muskets ; the doing 
of death was the soulful motive of the town ; but to day it was all 
distraught that barely two of its white men had been killed with 
arms in their hands. 

As he drew near the little engine-house, our hero dropped be 
hind the office-buildings just west of it ; a lull had taken place in 
the firing, for the grimy operatives from the rail way- shops of Mar- 
tinsburg were to charge John Brown s little fort. 

Ouantrell saw them deployed to assail the nearest, or watch- 
house end, on three sides at once. 

A man was slinking out of the column, and Ouantrell recognized 

" Contemptible assassin ! Give me your gun." 

It was the man whose life Lehman had saved, and who had re 
turned the gift with death. 

There was something queer about the gun he had wrested from 
the man ; it came open at the breech, as if there was a hinge in the 

" Pooh ! " exclaimed Quantrell, " this is one of Hall s Harper 
Ferry rifles, a Yankee invention, thrown out by the regular army 

He threw the gun down, yet lived to see the day when the 
" breech was more honored than the observance " of military boards ; 
for by a similar needle-gun the winding-sheet of Napoleonism came 
to be sewed by Germany. America fought her great civil war 
loading muskets at the muzzle, when she could have been foremost 
of the nations with a Yankee breech-loader, thrown out of Harper s 
Ferry by military bigotry, twenty years before. 

In the quick revulsions of a day of action and hunger, intemper- 

1 9 o 


ance and fear, mystery and passion, Lloyd Quantrell had ripped a 
plank out of the porch of a small building labeled " Superintendent s 
Office," and crying, " Come on ! " he dashed among the foremost of 
the militia, from whom a mighty yell went up. 

To the yell the response was the throwing open of the engine- 
house doors. 

Half a dozen boyish men, with John Brown at their head, stepped 
upon the sward and poured a little volley into these hundred hercu 
lean militia. 

Among the defenders Quantrell could see the ashen face of 
Watson Brown, rallying up from death and standing by his rifle. 
His father waved the sword of King Frederick and called " Fire! " 

It was but a minute that this startling picture of a handful of 
farm-boys, directed by an old man s face in which was the very 
delight of battle, lasted upon the afternoon. The militia, after a 
broken fire, dispersed with groans and curses ; and some, in the 
frenzy of fear, leaped the high brick wall behind the block-house, 
astonished at their own feat of strength. 

As the defenders retired, they dragged one boyish form back 
with them, which had settled down upon its hands, as if the liga 
ments of the tough limbs had all at once given way : the face, of 
unspeakable emotion, was that of young Oliver Brown ; he looked 
like one caught by some reptile and bitten in twain, while he was 
yet rejoicing. 

Quantrell pushed in the round-topped windows of the watch- 
room end of the engine-house, with the plank he carried, and forced 
the plank over the window-frames. 

" Break out ! " he shouted, raising himself by the wrists to the 
window-level ; " they won t fire on you ! " 

He also leaped over the tall brick wall and fell into the River 
Street, exhausted. 

In a few minutes the released prisoners from the watch-house 
also came up. 

" Where s Washington, and Alstadt, and ole Ball ? " Quan 
trell asked. 

" Why, ole Isaac Smith he picked all them big fish out half a 
hour ago and tuk em in the engine-house part. I want you, he 
says. And you ! And you ! He s got nine or ten, I reckon, in 
thar, yit." 

Lloyd returned to the Gault House saloon around the arsenal 


wall, and at the alley there lay the dead Newby still, staring at 

A strange quiet had fallen upon the town since the determined 
action of the bandits and their easy defeat of the burly Martins- 
burgers several of whom had received wounds ; a quiet partly 
induced, too, by the cold-blooded slaying of Lehman, which few had 
seen without compassion and awe. There were none in the streets 
but the dead, and all private attempts to storm John Brown s fort 
ceased from that time forward. 

Entering the Gault House, a man escaping from the interior fell 
in the dark into Quantrell s arms. 

" Let me go ! " the stranger cried ; " I ve lost my poor black 
ward. I ll have a life for Hey wood ! " 

The door closed upon him, and Quantrell breathlessly asked for 

" Forty drops ! " said the saloon-keeper. " Come up ! " 

It was now that Beall, the young Virginian, shook off a portion 
of his hard demeanor and commenced to ask Lloyd the particulars 
about Smith s or Brown s band : it seemed to have a charmed inter 
est for him, less to appease his indignation than to awaken a latent 
thirst he betrayed for individual feats of danger, and to concentrate 
his mind upon the chief enemies of his State and neighborhood. 

" Tell me, sir, as nearly as you can, who are the leaders in this 
foray. We must be sure to kill the right ones ; the residue will do 
for the gallows." 

" Next to Isaac Smith," replied Lloyd, " who calls himself Brown, 
was Kagi, who lies dead up the Shenandoah ; but the best soldier 
of them all is the third in command, Captain Stevens." 

" We ll mark him ! " muttered Beall. " What is that coming 
yonder ? " 

They looked through the window, keeping well back in the dark, 
and saw four men coming out of the armory-gate ; two of these 
were unarmed, and one hoisted a white cloth attached to a stick. 

"That s Kitz," said one of the voices in the dark; "t other s a 
citizen. It seems to be a flag of truce." 

"I know the men behind," Quantrell added " the two with 
rifles ; the boyish figure is Ned Coppock. He s a handsome fellow, 
and good-natured. The stoutish, manly fellow is Aaron Stevens. 
He s a lion." 

" Get your gun," Beall said. "The time s come for it ! " 

1 9 2 


"All steady, now," remarked the saloon-keeper; "no one must 
speak. I want to let him have every ball." 

He raised the skeleton-breeched revolver to his shoulder and 
took aim, the rest standing silently in the rear. 

Right on walked the four men, the two hostages covering the 
two raiders in front, until they came abreast of the hotel beneath 
the station, when, at a word from Stevens, the hostages stepped 
upon the flanks, thus opening to the saloon-keeper s revolver the 
bodies of Stevens and Coppock. 

Quantrell, in spite of his late vow of " Death to abolitionists ! " felt 
that he would give the world to cry out and plead : " It is a flag of 
mercy. Do not kill them ! " 

Proud of bearing, full-bearded, his brown eyes keen but independ 
ent, his military shoulders carried erect without effort or stiffness, 
his dark-brown hair adding to the warmth of his bright skin and 
red, youthful lips, Stevens had his gun across his shoulder ; he kept 
his eyes upon the bridge before him, and walked on as confidently 
as a regular soldier upon parade. 

None in the saloon looked at any other person ; this man was so 
strong, superior, and chieftam-like that the light of human eyes 
shone only upon him and seemed to glaze him into a Rembrandtish 
brightness and halo, and they could almost hear his broad lungs 

The great pistol went off once, twice, thrice ! Quantrell shut his 

Once, twice, thrice again, it spoke metallic decision, and with 
that regularity and interval of sound which showed the perfect nerve, 
deliberation, and aim of the firer. 

The saloon was full of sulphur-smell, but of little smoke. 

Quantrell opened his eyes. 

There lay on the ground, a few paces from the door, an effigy 
or broken stalk of man, nothing of it moving but the broad chest, 
and that with a snarling, convulsive sound and struggle. 

The hostages were not to be seen. Coppock was entering the 
armory-gate, and there a little band of the raiders poured out from 
the engine-house, and he and they fired with spirit, but only to draw 
upon themselves a roaring volley from near the bridge, like that of 

" Forty drops," said the saloon-keeper, wiping his piece with a 
yellow silk handkerchief. " Come up." 



Amid exclamations of " Glorious ! " " Grand ! " and the sucking 
of liquids and the shaking of hands, Lloyd Ouantrell opened the 
door and, despite the glancing of bullets over railroad-iron and street- 
gravel, he fell upon his hands and knees and crawled toward the 
prostrate form. 

He saw in an instant what errand Stevens had walked forth 
upon. The Potomac bridge was full of soldiery just come from 
Maryland, and to these Stevens must have been sent with a propo 
sition of surrender or truce, when the unrespecting assassin had 
emptied a revolver into his living frame. 

" Now some other citizen will surely be killed," Quantrell re 
flected, " not only to avenge this dead comrade, but the raiders will 
kill to protect themselves from massacre. I reckon their blood is 

A sound came from the large form stretched upon the ground. 

" If you are a man and I am but a dog, come to me ! " 

There was in this sound something of involuntary \voe, like 
mortal agony soliloquizing to its pain, or the " loud voice about the 
ninth hour" on Calvary, saying, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" 

A woman from the hotel ran toward the prostrate man, careless 
of danger in the strong impulse of her pity, and Quantrell also rose 
to his feet. 

They lifted the body up ; it was limp, and had nothing whole to 
stand upon shot in the members, the trunk, the head, and having 
received, like a target from a practiced hand, every ball where the 
marksman thought fit to deliver it. 

" Save him ! " screamed the woman ; " he belongs to some home, 

Quantrell raised the body to his shoulder and slung it there like 
a dead deer, and stalked away with it to the hotel where he had 

" Kill him ! Drown him ! Tear him to pieces ! " yelled many 
voices, in the safe hiding of the station. 

" Curs ! " exclaimed Ouantrell, facing them once, " go yonder and 
kill at the engine-house, where you are fifty to one ! " 

As he entered a room in the hotel where he was directed, an 
other man came forward and said, cheerfully : 

" Aaron, do you know me ? " 

" Good-by, Thompson ! " sighed the bleeding form. 

" You are not going to die, Aaron ? " 


" Not me," Stevens muttered. " Oh, no ! Good-by \.o you ! " 

" Who tells you that, Aaron ? " 

" Spirits," whispered the man, swooning away. 

The room filled up with drunken, excited, or cowardly individ 
uals, uttering imprecations, insulting William Thompson, the pris 
oner, and threatening to throw the body of Stevens out of the win 
dow. Quantrell picked out a little guard of weak but better meaning 
men, and by a doctor s aid cleared the room. 

" Thompson," he said, after this exertion, " what labor you have 
taken to make all this misery ! " 

" I didn t come, Mr. Quantrell, on any picnic. You and me will 
only die once. I m just as ready to die for man now as I was yes 

" Don t you want to live ? " 

" Of course. Life never was as sweet to me as it is at this min 
ute, because it s so uncertain now. But I brought my life along 
and put it in the cause ; and, if it s wanted, I ll give it to Liberty." 

" Nonsense ! " exclaimed Quantrell. " Liberty to slaves, not one 
of whom has had the courage to fight for his own salvation ! " 

" No nonsense, Mr. Quantrell, to the many millions more still to 
be born, and to look back, perhaps, to this day s sorrows for their 
deliverance. W omen don t fight for their freedom, neither, but still 
have men gone to women s rescue. It was because slaves didn t 
fight that we came to fight for them." 

The door here burst open, and a young man entered with a gun. 
He looked around an instant, and approached the helpless man upon 
the bed. 

" Villain ! " he suddenly cried, "you ve killed my kinsman, George 
Turner, and I m going to kill you this minute ! " 

Before any person could interfere, he had pulled the trigger, with 
the muzzle of the gun at Stevens s throat. 

The lock fell, but the cap did not explode. 

Stevens had been stripped naked, for the doctor to dress his 
wounds. As Quantrell sprang forward, he observed the fine hazel 
eyes of Stevens to be wide open, and gazing with a most undaunted 
calmness into the assassin s face. 

The other man blanched before that unshaken fortitude and al 
most eloquent contempt. Well he might have been alarmed, also, 
at the wounded man s athletic breast, solid arms, great shoulders, 
and Apollo-like strength in everything ; his white body flawless ex- 



cept where torn by lead, and his soul reinhabiting that mangled 
frame, like an eagle returned suddenly to its nest. 

" If I had a gun and could get off this bed," said Stevens, with 
out an inflection, " you, and ten more like you, would jump out of 
that window ! " 

Quantrell sprang upon the intruder, who had already retreated 
before Stevens s steady gaze, and Lloyd put the door behind him. 

"You re a great man, Stevens," Lloyd Quantrell said, looking 
down at the hero in admiration. " What made you wake just at 
that minute of danger? " 

" My guardian angel," Stevens sighed, and closed his eyes in 
slumber again. 

Quantrell locked the door and stretched himself upon the floor 
within it, and also slumbered a little while. He went to sleep, and 
he awoke to the continual spluttering explosions of fire-arms. 

As he was relieved by other persons of the watch in this prison 
er s place, he stepped out to the railroad platform in time to see an 
old, stout man peep around the water-tank, desperate to have a shot 
at the people in the engine-house. 

The moment this man peeped, there came a sound of wood 
ripped by a ball. 

" Tey ve hit te tank ! " exclaimed the voice of Atzerodt, at 
Quantrell s elbow. 

" They ve hit the man, too," Quantrell said ; for he had seen the 
large form of the old gentleman pitch forward and fall upon his 
head, and there lie motionless upon the planks of the platform he so 
long commanded. 

People dragged the old gentleman back by the legs and laid him 
beside his negro servant, stone-dead ; black and white man, loving 
each other in life, in death had not long been divided. 

" The Mayor of Harper s Ferry," thought Quantrell, " pays for 
the violation of the flag of armistice. I believe Ned Coppock fired 
that shot for Captain Stevens." 

It was now the middle of the afternoon, and whisky had done 
its work on many an empty stomach, while combat had made cou 
rageous men fierce, and cowardly men bloodthirsty. 

A cry arose : " Kill that prisoner ! Fountain Beckham s dead ! " 

If the utterer of this instigation had desired, in the same breath, 
to call it back, he would have been too late. 

The dead mayor had been of a large family connection, and his 

I 9 6 


cousins and nephews heard the cry of " revenge," in Virginia na 
tures, where Scotch and pioneer traits and traditions lay ever near 
the passion for private feud and retaliation. 

The hotel quickly filled up with young men who had not dared 
to expose their bodies, like the late rash and loving old man. The 
woman who had befriended Stevens threw herself before young 
William Thompson s body, and begged his life in vain. He was 
pushed and dragged toward the railway platform, and, for every 
hand which impelled him onward, another held a pistol to kill him. 
Voices derided him ; and other voices raised the yell of battle, thou 
sands of times repeated in after-years among these "blue-ridged 

" To the bridge ! To the bridge with him ! Kill him ! Kill 
him ! " 

Lloyd Quantrell saw his pointer-dog leap joyfully among the 
murderers and bark with all his venom, and show his yellow eyes, 
and shake the flies from his blood-clotted ear. Lloyd saw the dirty 
visage of Atzerodt, crazed with the liquor his blood-money had pro 
cured, waving his fluttering hands and full of white-livered zeal, and 
heard him shout : 

" Hang him ! Hang him to te bridge ! " 

The crowd swayed and reeled forward, and the woman threw 
herself in its path only to be pulled aside. Toward the Potomac 
bridge it went, and skirmishers before it, and stragglers behind, 
were seen to be picking the locks of rusty fire-arms, and trying flints 
and percussion-caps, in all the ardor for human prey. The black 
birds at the chimneys of Loudoun Mountain circled there, indiffer 
ent to the carcass that was being prepared for them by mankind. 

Lloyd Quantrell determined to labor for that man s life. He 
caught a glimpse of Mr. Beall at the outskirts of the mob and 
called to him : 

" Let us save his life for the law and for shame ! " 

Beall shook his head, and muttered, with skull and chin pinched 
together at the thin lips : 

" No, sir. He has dishonored Virginia ! " 

There were, however, some plaintive old Germanic faces there, 
ready to kindle to compassion when Quantrell raised the cry : 

" Give him a chance ! Don t murder him, gentlemen ! Don t 
let us disgrace Virginia ! " 

" To hell mit him ! " cried Atzerodt. " He kilt a good man." 



" Revenge for Fountain Beckham ! " 

" Revenge for George Turner ! " 

" Revenge for Tom Boerly ! " 

These victims names arose like tongues of fire amid the tiny 
streams of pity. 

"Give him a trial!" shouted Ouantrell. "You do not know 
who he is. His blood may splash you all." 

" Oh, yes, take time ! " said a tall old man. " The law will 
stretch his neck." 

" Don t kill him here," cried the woman s voice ; " the court will 
try him soon enough ! " 

William Thompson had not spoken ; his face was pale but with 
manly submission in it, and yet the love of life rose to his temples 
in a great fervor, once or twice. 

A man pointed a gun at him ; Thompson put his arms around 
the man and held him close to his breast and spoke across his 
shoulder in the partial silence of the hard-breathing murderers : 

" Let me say a word. Then kill me if you ought to ! My blood 
will never put out the fire started here to-day. A thousand lives 
like mine won t do it no, not a hundred thousand ! Murder won t { 
count in favor of sin. Let all your slaves go free ! That s all wej 
ask. It s cheaper in the end ! " 

" Down with the abolitionist ! " 

" Kill the blasphemer ! " 

" Shoot the vile fanatic ! " 

They tried to tear him fast from any other man. Severed from 
one, he grappled to himself another, in the piteous search for some 
one feeling breast. He spoke no more, except to cling to living 
frames and cover his own with living hearts. The contest drew 
tears from some, and others closed their eyes. 

Finally, several men seized him by pinioning his arms, and then 
with their united power hurled him from them. 

Half a dozen guns went off. He tottered and fell upon one 
hand. More guns were discharged. 

" Father ! " he cried, looking toward the engine-house, which 
was concealed by the hotel-building. 

They fired upon him again and again. 

His eyes, in pain of death, without a friend to call to, fell upon 
Lloyd Ouantrell : 

" Mr. Ouantrell ! Brother ! " 


" Drop ! drop into the river ! " Quantrell shouted, and pointed to 
the cool water below. 

The dying man tottered to the edge of the planks and slipped 
through the hollow places there and fell into the roaring Potomac 

" I ll carry the white flag this time ! " Quantrell said. " Nobody 
can save him but John Brown ! " 

He raised his hat upon a rod and walked straight into the 
armory-gate and disappeared in the engine-house. 

William Thompson floated down the current a little way and 
lodged against some stones. 

A discharge of fire-arms from the bridge stilled his hopes and 
pains forever. 

All the rest of the afternoon his body was used for a target- 
match between the gunners, shooting from the bridge. 



MONDAY morning, at Jake Bosler s farm, found corn-shucking 
and fruit-drying, pickling and stewing sweets, the deep occupation 
of the women, of whom there were three, since Hannah Ritner had 
come over from Smoketown, uninvited, at an early hour, driven by 
Job Snowberger, the Baptist monk, whose Kloster (convent) name 
was Father Philodulus. 

Job had grown up in the nunnery at Snow Hill, just over in 
Pennsylvania, and was nearly the last of the Monks of Seventh 
Day. He worked in the fields with threefold energy of Sundays, 
but his Saturdays were deeply religious ruminations, varied by the 
singing of Beissel s Ephrata music, of which he was believed to be 
the last living renderer. 

To look at, Philodulus was a long, thin man with little peeping 
eyes, and one side of his baggy face seemed cunning and blushing, 
and the other side mystic and austere. He called Hannah Ritner 
" Shweshter (sister) Marcella," and paid great deference to her, 
while that large, considerate lady called him, according to her 
passing vein, "Job," "Job Snow," and "Philodulus." 


At the sound of "Job ! " uttered with Hannah Ritner s full decis 
ion, the hermit celibate would start up like a soldier to his arms ; 
at the practical address of "Job Snow," he would look wise and 
reproved ; when Hannah called him " Bruder (brother) Philodulus," 
blushes came to his froggy, loose skin, and he seemed about to fall 
upon his knees. 

Job, the monk, was now sorely tempted, for Nelly Harbaugh, 
with mischief hardly delicate, had planted herself on one side of 
him and had pushed him back against the wall, while Katy Bosler 
was on Job s other flank, and the kitchen dresser kept her from 
moving farther, and just in front of Philodulus was a wash-tub into 
which they all were peeling fruit, and across the wash-tub from Job, 
holding him fast, was Hannah Ritner with her great Jewish eyes. 

" Bruder," exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh, summoning Job s atten 
tion by hitting him with her knee, and then leaning over and taking 
his thin, furzy beard in her hand, " would you take me into the Sie- 
bentager and let me be your own little nun ? " 

" Nay, unfer shamed, barefaced ! you would possess the whole 
kloster soon." 

The mystic and austere side of Job s face was, nevertheless, trem 
bling a little, and he leaned toward Katy Bosler s large, modest eyes, 
and then the cunning and blushing side grew all dimpled as he 
piped in his high, falsetto voice : 

Sister Kate, you would not ask me that ? " 

Katy, full of laughter, cried : 

" Oh, you would not invite me ! I m too little." 

" Unshuldich" breathed the old bachelor, "sweet innocent, I do." 

"Job Snow!" Hannah Ritner spoke, with recalling common 

" There is a difference," the brother said, throwing away the ap 
ple and dropping the apple-peeling in the tub ; " te invitation of 
Nelly is to mock me. Unshtcklich ! " (Nelly had taken his hand 
with well-feigned rapture.) " I turn to Katy for to git purity. Te 
world will take advantage of so much goodness, and in our quiet 
convent we live like Him of old like Yasus." 

" Philodulus," Hannah Ritner spoke in her low, great voice, 
" when our sex is old and poor, then invite them to your rest ; but 
the world would misunderstand young converts, like these maidens, 
appearing at Snow Hill." 

" Nay, Sister Marcella, te first of te Vorsteher Beissel s tisciples 


was two married women, and one of those, Maria Sower, was very 
beautiful. It was her beauty he resisted with all his prayers, but 
half his psalms her beauty was- te music of." 

" Sing to my eyes, Job ! " Nelly Harbaugh entreated. " Han 
nah, he daresn t look at me without blushing." 

" Oh, sing to my love ! " Katy involuntarily added, " and I will 
play, Job, on te accordion." 

"That is gone, Kate," said Nelly Harbaugh ; "you ve given all 
your music away." 

" Nay," Job Snowberger said, " I ll sing for Katy te mourning- 
dove piece py Friedsam, when his soul was at peace, and love 
plagued it no more." 

" Philodulus," Hannah Ritner sighed, "love plagues to the last. 
Often, in my girlhood, have I seen the Dunker nuns, at Ephrata and 
Snow Hill, carrying a lamb to which they gave the name of Yasus, 
and dandled it upon their knees it was the substitute for Nature s 
human babe, and they professed to be in a mystical union with its 
divine namesake. But while the women at the nunnery played the 
mother with these substitutes till themselves grew old and withered, 
how many of the monks fell away from grace and married, long after 
domestic happiness had passed its day ! " 

" I am te last," said Job Snowberger, "and I will persewere." 

" Pure, good man ! Kiss him, Katy, and encourage him to per 

Nelly Harbaugh, speaking, grasped Job Snowberger s head in 
both her strong hands, and kissed him down upon Katy, who sat 
imprisoned there ; and she, seeing no escape, and somewhat in the 
mischief of the moment, also gave the monk of fifty -five a little timid 

He looked from one to the other in rapid changes of austerity 
and weakness. 

" Unshickttck improper one ! " he spoke to Nelly Harbaugh ; 
and then, turning to Katy, his face melted in all its harsher lines as 
he gave back her kiss and piped high, " Unshuldich ! " the in 

"Job ! " spoke Hannah Ritner. 

He looked at her, thus in Saint Anthony s temptation, and burst 
into tears. 

Katy was frightened. Nelly was studying Philodulus, the monk, 
with joyful analysis. 


"My children," Hannah Ritner said, looking with tender humor 
on the scene, " whichever way you go with Love, cr go without him, 
he makes you cry. His pleasantest mood is spring, with little 
showers of tears. His summer zest is thunderstorm among these 
mountains. If Love deserts you, it is winter and frozen tears. But 
if he never comes at all, you cry, you know not why." 

She looked at the poor man and gave him some cider to drink, 
fresh from the press. 

" Brother Philodulus, swallow your tears, as they drop into the 
cider; for they will come up many times again, and, after all, the 
tears of love are sweet even those we shed to reject love." 

He sat down at her counsel, and behaved like a little boy, doing 
whatever was requested of him ; and while they continued to peel 
apples, pears, and quinces, a sound came in at the window 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " 

" It is te doves," Katy said. " It s most time, I think, for tem to 
go South. Tey are waiting for te young ones to pe smart enough to 
fly. Tey puilt te nest last April. Come see it, Job." 

Job Snowberger s hand Katy confidingly took in hers, and led 
him out to a low apple-tree nearly touching the house. 

Upon a crotch of this tree, lower than their heads, sat, in an 
humble nest of dry grasses, two brown young doves. Above them, 
on the same bough, sat, side by side, the parent birds, unfluttered 
by visitors, and in brown and chestnut plumage and slate-colored 
crowns, cooing together. 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " 

The little family had no brilliant marks upon them except a 
patch of bare pink skin under their chestnut-colored eyes, and toes 
of brownish red clinging to the boughs. A little purple warmed 
their breasts, which beat like Katy s little form beneath her brown 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " murmured both the old doves and the 
young ones, also, as Katy came near. 

" Tey are full of love, Job," Katy said ; " tey will fly down among 
te chickens and eat, and drink out of te trough py te horses. Tey 
are shy, but not suspicious. Two eggs is all te she-bird lays, and 
she hatches out of tem always a he-bird and a she." 

"What for?" Job Snowberger asked, with his austere side ag 
gressive, after his late display of weakness. 

" O Job ! " said Katy, " why, you know to love one another ! " 


Job s half- shut eyes looked down at Katy with an idiotic smile 
as he murmured, half harshly : 

" Unshuldtch ! " 

"Oh no, Job. I m not innocent like I was yisterday; I m in 
love, too." 

" Unshicklich, Katy ! " 

" No, indeed. Jt can t be improper if it comes like religion, 
dear Job. That s te way mine come to me." 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo," assented the she-dove from the tree, and 
sidling down the bough toward Katy. 

" Te she-dove never trifles with another he-bird," Katy said, 
"like so many other kinds of birds. I ve set and watched 
those, ever since te i$th of April, when tey come here from te 
South. He s all attention to her, too, and cares for no bird 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " emphatically, from the tree, as the male 
bird trailed his wings, and puffed his breast up large, and paraded 
before his lady, and then fed her from his own bill. 

" UnshickHch /" improper, intimated Brother Philodulus, with 
a feminine turn of his head. " Katy, I can do something tender, 
too. I can sing the turtle-dove psalm." 

" Do, Job ! My mate has taken my music with him, or I would 
help you a little." 

Job Snowberger, with a straightening of his lean figure and an 
expression between ecstasy and childishness, piped in the German 
tongue a little psalm we may translate together : 


" Coo-roo," the turtle-dove complains, 

Whose spouse comes never near, 
And leaves her, with a mother s pains, 

Un-nested all the year: 
" Coo-roo-ah-coo," the birdling true 

Doth with itself condole 
So does the dove of Yasus coo 

In every lonely soul. 

" Coo-roo," the stricken monk or nun 

Within the kloster sighs, 
By human sin or love undone, 

And hid from human eyes : 


" Coo-roo-ah-coo ! " that mate untrue 

Still fills dear Yasus place, 
And you can hear the turtle coo 

In her despairing face. 

" Coo-roo," beside Ephrata s brooks 

And in Antietam s vale, 
Comes in between the martyr-books 

The tender human tale : 
"Coo-roo," to Peter Miller, too, 

To Beissel and to all 
The turtle-dove so soft will coo, 

It seems like Yasus call ! 

" Coo-roo ! " in vain we fly from Love, 

And world and flesh attack, 
In vain we kill the human dove 

And set the Sabbath back ; 
" Coo-roo-ah-coo ! " Love will undo 

The washing white of springs, 
And only Yasus never knew 

How strong the turtle sings. 

"Coo-roo ! " in Zion s wooden house, 

In Kedar s shingled cells, 
Softer than lowing of the cows 

The note of passion wells. 
" Coo-roo-ah-coo ! " like wood unto 

Whereon was Yasus bound, 
Our prison seems ; and every coo 

Tears wide a bleeding wound. 

" Coo-roo ! " sing, more celestial Dove, 

In notes aye pure and clear, 
To drown this strong, terrestrial love 

And help us persevere ! 
" Coo-roo-ah-coo ! " dear Yasus, who 

No frailty turned aside, 
Thy Dove set in the himmel blue, 

And keep our Church thy bride ! 

Job Snowberger s singing had method in it, and caused himself 
to weep. Katy saw him standing there in his coarse, home-woven 
and home-dyed clothes, sewn together by the hands of women who 



had no deeper interest in man than as a fellow-laborer, and she took 
her needle and pieced him together, saying 

" Dear Job, you have got nobody to love you. " 

" Unshicklich ! " exploded Philodulus, referring to the needle 
work, and then, raising his bashful eyes to Katy s face, he qualified 
the remark to " Unshuldich" 

" Nobody will love me," Job exclaimed, " but Sister Marcella, and 
she only loves me to send me on arrands. I m only one of her nig 
gers, and she has many of tern. Katy, can t you jine the kloster 
and help me persewere ? " 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " The doves had sidled together in the 

" Why, dear Job, I am in love already. I am engaged to a young 
man. See, his mother s ring is on my finger ! And he has took my 
accordion. Oh, I am so happy ! " 

" Unshicklich ! Unshuldich, too ! No good will come of it, 
schwester Kate ! Oh, come and jine the good Siebentager and help 
me persewere ! " 

Job had already burst open his late repairs ; for, indeed, his 
clothes were too small for him. and his emotions had the effect of 
wind in the laden apple-trees, bringing all their ripeness to the 
ground. He threw his arms around Katy, and, in ecstasy of groans 
and tears, piped high : 

" Oh, can t we persewere together, Katy ! It is so hard to per 
sewere alone. I can t remember nothing : the music-writin gits 
blotted; the saw-mill runs wrong; the fullin -mill wants ile, the 
cider-press tastes of rotten apples. Come, come, schwester, to 
Schneeberg and te heilich life ! " 

" Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " very firmly, from the dove family in the 

" Don t kiss me so hard, Job ! " Katy cried, fighting in vain 
against the tall man s impassioned caresses. " It s real Unshicklich 
in you, for I m going to marry another man." 

" Oh, who is it ? He must be some sinful one." 

" No, indeed, Job ; it s a Mr. Quantrell! " 

" Hallo ! " spoke a strange voice. " How do you know me, in 
deed ? And what rummaging are you engaged at, Snowberger ? 
Fine hypocrite, you ! " 

" Perse werin ," Philodulus said, sheepishly ; " we was persewerin 


" No doubt," said a strange lame man, standing before them ; 
" persewering and perspiring, too ! Young woman, you re in a fair 
way to become a convert, unless your people look more carefully 
after you ! " 

" Who is it ? " Katy spoke ; " I do not understand." 

" You ought to know me. You have just mentioned my name. 
I am Abel Ouantrell, of Baltimore. And where is Hannah Rit- 
ner ? " 

"Here, master !" spoke an eloquent voice at the window; "I 
heard you were coming, and had you directed to this friend s retired 
farm ; for I was all alone at Smoketown, and the time was full of 
portents. O master, if I ever needed help and a strong hand to 
lean upon, it is to-day ! " 

" Sho ! Sho ! Ninon, I see you are nervous to-day. Cube 
yourself ! The root is the soul. Cube yourself ! Some unusually 
Quixotic undertaking, perhaps ? O child, I feel for you extract 
ing the cube-root of all this wrong, without the help of man ! " 

" Be tender with me, master. Oh, come and counsel me ! The 
time is so short ; the mountains are so dark ; I can not read beyond 
them. I am so lonely ! " 

He led her toward the dairy, near the creek, and on the grass 
they talked together until Nelly Harbaugh took out chairs for them, 
and then they talked still on, "till Luther came in, at dinner, hearing 
the sounding of the bell, and put up the strange gentleman s horse 
and buggy. 

Mr. Abel Ouantrell came in to dine, and looked at Katy and at 
Nelly with a sort of sardonic admiration. At Nelly he looked with 
bold favor ; at Katy with no more interest than as at a hoyden child 
he had found in an old man s arms. 

Katy was afraid of this strange man, and some great distress 
seemed overhanging in his wonderful appearance here, the very day 
after her lover had come and gone. She was too umvorldly and 
ignorant to understand that she had been guilty of any error, or to 
know how to extricate herself, and be recommended in his eyes. 

" I will leave it to God," said Katy, inwardly. "He must know 
what to do with me." 

Nelly Harbaugh was soon in a running skirmish of merry and 
satirical talk with Abel Quantrell. 

He was a man not to be forgotten nor confounded with any 
other, and even the splendid carriage of Hannah Ritner seemed to 


lose its superiority under Abel Quantrell s plain but strong address 
and countenance. 

In the first place, he was a deformed man : one of his legs was 
shorter than the other, or the foot was clubbed ; for he walked by 
the aid of a cane, without labor or any look of pain, and with a cer 
tain enforced erectness which had imparted a spirit of will, or de 
fiance, or triumph, to the carriage of his head, the swell of his nos 
trils, the firm parallels of his eyebrows and lips, and even to the 
poise of a dark wig, younger in tone than the lights in his eyes, 
which were faded, spite of their fateful and inflexible cast. 

His face was all shaved clean ; a standing collar barely showed 
the gray hairs brushed beneath his throat upon the parchment- 
colored sinews there. At times, unconsciously, or from habit, he 
thrust his hand into the clean, starched, simple bosom of his shirt, 
and then he seemed, to those observing him, like one whose back 
was against a wall. 

But for his lameness he would have been a man above the usual 
stature, and at this table he was easily the chief, as if a magistrate 
had come in, but not to depress anybody s spirits. His face was 
without any ruddy color, and the black wig gave it a certain pallor 
as if he were older than he seemed. 

No Christian resignation was in Abel Quantrell s portrait rather 
the heathen philosopher s stoic will and coolness. In repose, he 
seemed an orator with something in his bosom to defend, and cov 
ered there by his pallid hand ; out of repose, his face assumed a 
certain earthiness and self-love, sometimes to the degree of coarse 
ness, and this may have been why Nelly Harbaugh soonest grew 
upon easy terms with him and drew from him some particulars of 
his career. 

" You seem at home among us Swiss and Dutch, and find your 
way about like an old nochber? " 

" Yaw^yung maidle" Abel Quantrell said, " I came among the 
old Dutch before your mother had a beau. I was the square root 
extracted from a small New England family of thirteen the oldest, 
my little mother and as I had kept them poor to send me to col 
lege, I needs must feed them all. Cube yourself, Abel/ said I ; a 
few years at school-teaching will make you a lawyer, and then you 
can educate your little brothers and sisters, and set them on the 
way to love and independence. Sho, sho ! The Scotch-Irish bar, 
at the town where I taught their college, passed a rule, especially 


for me, that no school-teacher could enter at the law. They knew 
I was too poor to sit with my legs out of a lawyer s window study 
ing for two years, and let my mother starve ! " 

" What did you do, sir ? " Luther Bosler asked, sitting, like his 
father, at the table in his shirt-sleeves. 

" I merely cubed the radius," Abel Ouantrell said, with a firmer 
grip of his upper lip upon the lip below that lip which seemed 
beaked, while his nose was straight as an index-board. " I rode 
over into Maryland and sat up with the bar of the nearest county 
there, judge and all, and played a good hand at cards, and staked 
my quarter s salary. They asked me a sleepy question or two at 
daylight and passed me into the law. So I extracted the square 
root of Pennsylvania smallness and moved my habitation to an 
other Dutch county." 

" Te Bunkers do not go to law," ventured Katy Bosler. 

" Bi m-by," Jake Bosler ejaculated, fearing that they had already 
leanings that way. 

" No, bright eyes ! And that was what took the square root 
out of my triumph. I could get love in too generous measure, but 
business never came. Here sits a pupil of mine : let Ninon tell the 

He turned to Hannah Ritner. She swept his pallid and volcano- 
scarred face with eyes of woe and pride, and answered : 

" Master, you found your only client, after waiting long in a 
murderer. He had taken a human life, but by his crime you and 
your mother s brood found food. His case was. so bad that they 
gave him to you to defend him, in mockery of your hard condition, 
for you received not one penny for your toil." 

" Sho, sho ! " from Abel Quantrell ; " I cubed myself, though." 

" The eloquence of genius in the occasion of despair burst from 
you like a torrent. The murderer became, in your impetuosity, your 
only friend. His dark and stony nature poured forth the springs of 
fervent tears. The judge sat trembling, your rivals were astonished 
and abashed. All German-derived people, after that, went to you 
with their suits and cases, and found you just as God. You left us, 
then, for greater fields of use, and, by prosperity, you fell to be a 
man ! " 

" Nothin but persewerin ," from the old-maidish face of Job 
Snowberger, with his sheepish and insinuating side still set on 


"Job Snow" Hannah Ritner commanded, "be more respectful 
to my dear master ! " 

" Bi m-by," meaninglessly from Jake Bosler, who executed the 
parental feat of throwing some corn " slappers " with his fingers into 
Katy s plate, a yard distant. 

Only Nelly Harbaugh seemed to blush at this homely method of 
serving food. 

" Teacher," Nelly said to Abel Quantrell, " which is best to live 
for affection or greatness ? " 

" I have had all my happiness in career," replied the old man, 
with his pallid hand in his bosom, laid firmly on his heart. His 
eyes, ranging around the table, rested with some kindling embers 
of power upon Luther Bosler. " My career, for a quarter of a cent 
ury, was to fight Power. Sometimes I fought it when it was right 
ful power not often. For power, as I found it in my exile in 
these Middle States, was the power of old sociability, of cliques 
and lodges, of amiable ignorance and deadly prejudice resisting in 
novation. This dull majority had sat upon my heel ; I turned and 
bruised its head." 

" Soon-down, Luter. Bi m-by ! " from Jake Bosler, toward his 
son, glancing at the half-plowed fields. 

Jake had taken off his shoe, and was examining his not very 
sightly foot with an eye to stone-bruises. No spirituality in the 
conversation bribed him from thrifty thinking on his crops. 

" Retaliation is not the spirit our Lord changed this wprld in," 
Luther Bosler said, his dark eyes intelligently following Abel Quan 

Hannah Ritner s eyes shone with all their might of compassion, 
as she turned on Luther, before the old man could speak the repar 
tee his folded lip concealed : 

" Sir, Master Quantrell s retaliations were never upon the weak. 
He soared among the eagles in his indignations. We humble Ger 
mans he led by the hand as high as we could go, and there \ve saw 
him battling with the power enthroned in the sun. He defended 
slaves escaping over the free-State line. He assailed Freemasonry 
in its brutality toward a human life. He broke the power of igno 
rance in Pennsylvania and made Education one of the tyrants there, 
with the power to tax, like forked lightning in its hands. We slug 
gish Germans did not always understand him ; we had not his mer 
curial sensitiveness to the injuries of simple multitudes of women, 


of illiterate children, of poor, black slaves. But we felt that some 
thing of Messiah had come among us with righteousness in his 
hands, and we set him in the seats of power until " 

" The lower Yankee interest in his nature made him desert you," 
said Abel Quantrell, bitterly. " Yes, Ninon, I gave myself to career 
like the bright, impetuous waters of the Blue Mountains, which at 
last subside in the shallow and malarious estuaries of the bay. I 
laid down career, and I am dead. Look at me whited, withered, 
wigged, and limping ! Have I not thrown myself away ? " 

" No, master ! " the woman answered in fervent eloquence. " The 
world has captured you, but not your principles, and, like our old 
German emperor, Barbarossa, you sleep in the cavern till the free 
dom of our land shall awaken you." 

" I have a son," the old man said. " In him I may awake, but 
never again in my enfettered self." 

Katy cried, before she could think : " Oh, he was here ! We took 
Lloyd to love-feast. He eat with us Dunkers last Sunday." 

" Sho, sho ! No doubt he multiplied the base and height of 
himself together and the product by the breadth. The cube result 
ing is still a baby s block." 

" He is a manly lad, master ! " said Hannah Ritner, with her 
great eyes downcast. " Something of his father is there." 

" Yes," said Abel Quantrell, languidly, " the complement of his 
father : he will be as rash to support power that is false, as I was to 
attack it. In my rowdy son, I see the compensation of my own self- 

" It is not true ! " Katy cried ; " Lloyd is a gentleman. He eat te 
Passover ! " 

"I guess he s purty bad, Katy," Job Snowberger said. "He 
ain t a-persewerin ." 

"Job Snow!" from Hannah Ritner, "where is your char 
ity ? " 

" Come, Ninon," said Abel Quantrell, with lessening interest in 
the subject ; " I must have my game of cards." 

Luther Bosler and his father went back to the field ; Katy and 
Nelly and Job Snowberger went to fruit-peeling again; Hannah 
Ritner and Abel Quantrell had chairs under a tree near the creek, 
and a barrel-head furnished them a table ; from the dwelling they 
could be seen playing for Spanish silver pieces. 

Katy was still and troubled, Nelly Harbaugh no less preoccu- 


pied and silent, and Job Snowberger, the only talking quantity left, 
got no reply for his chance remarks. 

" Katy," he said at last, "you is so still, I think you want to 
come to Kloster Schneeherg." 

" Oh, you old fool ! " Nelly Harbaugh spoke, " what does she want 
with your old stupid nunnery? We women want career." 

She glanced at Katy, who looked up, her eyes full of tears, and 
said : 

" Nelly, what makes me so ignorant ? " 

" Goodness," Nelly Harbaugh answered. 



TILL late in the day Abel Ouantrell played euchre with a spirit 
compounded of gain and hazard, his opponent sometimes requiring 
to be stirred from her abstraction, yet seeking to engage him with 
all her irregular solicitude. 

Finally, the old man, as she studied a careful play, closed his 
eyes, and when she was ready, he did not respond. 

The sun was growing low, and Hannah Ritner placed her chair 
so as to shield him from its glancing rays, as they were dandled on 
the South Mountain s crest. 

" Oh, that this day would bring its result ! " she sighed aloud. 

A head was in her lap and a kiss upon her hand ; she looked 
down, and Katy Bosler was kneeling on the ground. 

" What is it, simple child ? " 

" My ring," whispered Katy, " He wants it." 

She pointed at Abel Ouantrell, sleeping. 

Katy held up the mourning ring of Lloyd Ouantrell s mother. 

" Fortune-teller ! " said Katy, " this ring Lloyd s mother was 
married with. Oh, must I lose it, as you told me I would ? Can t 
nothing save it for me ? It is all I haf, since I gif Lloyd my accor - 

Hannah Ritner looked at the ring. 

" It is sanctified by death," she said. " Lord rest the soul who 
made this ring so dear ! " 


" Lord, let that soul be kind to me ! " responded Katy, fervently. 
" I only want to gif myself to Lloyd, and nothing selfish haf I got 
but love te first of love I ever felt. How strong it is, Mootter Han 
nah ! " 

" Drive it away, my child ! Exert your mind to be free ! Rings 
like this were never made to be worn by poor, ignorant girls. Give 
this ring to me, and I will wear it for you, and then it never may be 

" You, Mootter Hannah ! Haf you got te power to keep it always 
for me ? If I gif it to you now, maybe I will lose it, all py myself, 
and pe foolish." 

" Hush, Katy ! " Hannah Ritner pointed to the sleeping sire of 
Lloyd Ouantrell. " Leave it with me to conjure with awhile." 

She slipped the ring upon her hand, and Katy stole away. 

Abel Quantrell opened his eyes and said : 

" The square of self is but half selfish ; but the cube of self has 
higher walls than angels ever scale. Plato, with all his divine reach, 
could never solve the problem which had baffled the oracle of 

" Dear master, what was that ? " 

" To start with one s self-indulgence and multiply it into a sacri 
fice ; to double the cube. Geometry, no more than an oracle, can 
do it." 

"Master, you have always defended the poor." 

" Sho, sho ! Too often from pugnacity, reasoning from them to 
my own fancied injuries. The humility of the Nazarene never was 
in me. He who seeks to save his life shall lose it, Ninon." 

" Master, have I not been seeking to save my life by losing it ? 
Are we ever all unselfish ? " 

"You have been, or sacrifice has no God, my child! If ever 
love was willful, suicidal, and martyr-minded, it was yours. I offered 
you myself, and you refused me : with every right to me, you sent 
me on my career and blessed me as another s bridegroom, and 
turned back with all your glorious pow r ers of body and of heart to 
be, like Hagar, the bride of the wolf, and your habitation in the 
wilderness. What have you been recompensed in ? " 

" Career, my master. I saw a work to do." 

" Sho, sho ! I know what that has been : to take the place of 
danger on the Underground Road and save a slave or two, whose 
escape to freedom only aggravated the sorrows of the rest, and 


made the bloodhound Federal laws invade the North. A hundred 
Quakers have done as much, Ninon." 

" Master," said the woman, " I have gained knowledge. I have 
predicted things which came to pass. I predict that, before you 
leave this humble farm, the brazen door of bondage will resound to 
the sledge-hammers of our daring smiths ! " 

As she spoke, fervidly, she seemed to swoon, and her long hair 
fell downward to the ground. 

He placed his arm around her, and she pushed it away. 

" No more of that, master ! I am in the very labor of my life- 
work now, and my soul is in the depths of travail ! Oh, be a just 
man to your son ! He loves you." 

" He is too brave to need my justice," Abel Ouantrell said. 
" Like me, he will not bow the knee to man, and be ashamed of 
Nature bountiful and wise in him. Justice is for the common 
place ; freedom and independence are for heroes." 

His face, being animated now, had lines of coarseness in it, as if 
he was of the satyr s type, and mocked conventionalities. 

" Shall I be just to you, Ninon ? " continued Abel Quantrell, 
when he had restored his hand to his bosom, and was restfully 
proud again. 

" I have been just to myself, master." 


" By my spiritual gift. I am your wife." 

" Sho, sho ! " 

" See, sir ! The dead deliver to me the rights I would not ask 
for. She who has sought to lose her life, has saved it." 

His faded eyes fell upon the wedding-ring, which she had dropped 
into his palm, upon her hand. 

" Magic ! " said Abel Ouantrell ; " how came it here ? " 

" Wafted ! " Hannah Ritner spoke ; " the day of my agony, 
when my martyr-fires, perhaps, are lighted and my chain is forged, 
the ring I had refused slides down the rainbow to my feet." 

" Are you one of those Spiritualist fanatics, Ninon ? Sho, sho ! 
There is no divination in geometry. Three times from the base is 
the cube. It was my son you got that ring from." 

" No, master ; but from the child he gave it to when he engaged 

" Sho ! He had visited no lady when he left Baltimore six days 
ago. I have found a wife for him, and that brings me here." 


2I 3 

" He has found love here, master. You may give him another 
Wife, but not the one he loves." 

" Who is it ? " 

" Little Katy, who sits in yonder house of log and stone ; the 
Dunker farmer s child." 

" Sho, sho ! No need of marrying there. He can love in one 
place and marry in another " 

" And have remorse, like you, master? " 

" How do you know that ? " 

" I heard you bring it from the woodlands of your sleep, saying 
that self-indulgence never could be expanded into a sacrifice." 

The old man raised his club-foot and looked at it bitterly. 

" There is a gnawing in my bosom, Ninon, but it is the decaying 
principle of life. I am sixty-seven. That self I accuse myself of is 
the selfishness of career. If I have sacrificed others, here and there, 
it was to keep the greater compassion in view, and change the sys 
tems by which wrong and tyranny were possible. I resigned most 
passionate love to plant myself in the domestic circle of border-State 
slavery, and to work its downfall by the social foothold I obtained. 
My son must marry to strengthen me in the same labor, and make 
Maryland a free State before I die." 

" You will marry him to a religious woman ? " 

" Yes, to a Catholic. The strength of slavery in Maryland lies 
in the old Catholic counties and families, and in the increasing col 
lege and conventual institutions of that Church. There was a time 
when Carroll, of Carrollton, took me by the hand, when we Anti- 
masons came to Baltimore to overthrow the power of President 
Jackson. There lie latent in his church resentments against all 
forms of ruffianism, of which human bondage is the chief. I have 
sent my son to Catholic school and worship. For me all gates to 
heaven are too narrow ; by freedom I will go in, or be the specter 
of Heaven s own injustice, agitating at the gate ! " 

He spoke with sardonic quietness, yet without quietness of 

" Master, is there not the Jesuit s method in your plan ? The 
quality of mercy is not strained. It passes no suffering human 
creature, to do some greater good, beyond. By Jesus came compas 
sion in the world, and by politicians and by pontiffs came religious 
craft. The New World was given to tyrants, and its native millions 
thrown into slavery, that they might be saved from greater damna- 



tion. I predict, with truth in my soul, that one brave man this day, 
without scrip or raiment, and his life for the stone in his sling, will 
strike every false system down, and be the hero of the world." 

" You wander, Ninon ! Sho, sho ! you were always wild of mind. 
Had there been such a man, he would have come to me." 

" You were a politician, master, and he came to me. Oh, I fear 
I may have done wrong, that good may come of it ! " 

Abel Quantrell took her head upon his shoulder. She resisted a 
little moment, and was still. 

" How much you have suffered, Ninon ! " 

" I have died, master, and am raised from the grave. When you 
married, I prayed for your wife, but all was death to me for days. 
I came to this world again, people thought a little crazy." 

"Always a little above this world, child." 

" That I might not be a burden and mockery to my great politi 
cal relatives, I crossed the State line and lived in a little hut. The 
children came to me for curiosity, the mature to have me tell their 
fortunes ; my cottage light was the polar star of a thousand slaves." 

" All this time, Ninon, I was mismated. Disgrace followed me, 
also : my brother moved beside me, and became a negro-trader ; 
my son became a corner-lounger and a bully. Sho, sho ! My heart 
sought you out in the dreams of sleep and in the nervous wakeful- 
ness of the night. Why did you not take the square root from our 
troubles and send for me ? " 

"You were married, master. A great thing had purified my 

" I know, my child. How noble you were, there ! Behold my 
wretched residue of marital ambition ! I am too old to love you 

" Master, it was from you, in the days of our passion, that I drew 
the example to think on others wrongs. The old Dutch sects 
Quakers in other respects felt no offense at human slavery. I took 
up the work when you relinquished it. My labors are almost ended. 
What man is that yonder, master? " 

As she arose, in all her strength and stature, Abell Quantrell saw 
that she was trembling. 

" Sho ! Joan d Arc," he said, tenderly, " beneath your armor I 
see the poor child still." 

A black man came forward with Nelly and with Katy ; he was 
half naked, and nearly dead with fatigue. 



" Speak, poor man ! " called Hannah Ritner. " You were with 
Isaac Smith across the river ? " 

" Missy, dey s fout all day. Mos all is tuck an killed. Two of 
us got away and what was left in Maryland. Mosster Quantrell 
sent me." 

He produced gold pieces. 

" Good Lord ! " cried Nelly Harbaugh ; " this is the runaway 
nigger, and he must have stole the whole reward for himself." 

" Missy, Lloyd tole me to come to Bosler s farm and give dis 
money to Luther to buy me with it. He wants to save my life and 
own me." 

" Yes, do buy the pore man ! " Katy cried. " He s known nothing 
but misery." 

" I ll attend to the matter," Abel Quantrell observed. "Ninon, 
put yourself across the Pennsylvania line without delay ! Has this 
weakness brought on a civil war ? " 

Hannah Ritner was the picture of one dying, yet struggling to 

" Go with her," Abel Quantrell continued, speaking to the negro 
Ashby. " I am anxious to gratify all my son s wishes at this mo 
ment, foolish as they may be." 

" Why ? " asked Katy Bosler. 

" Because I have picked out a wife for him, little Dunker ! and 
would persuade him to my will." 

He called for his carriage and servant. Hannah Ritner and Job 
Snowberger drove away with the negro Ashby. 

Suddenly Nelly Harbaugh cried, as Abel Quantrell also passed 
from view : 

" \\.2&y, f ergesht ! where is your wedding-ring? " 

Awakened from the stupor of several minutes, Katy looked at 
her hand and screamed. 

She ran to the house and rang the bell loudly for the field-hands 
to come home, and then started up the stairs. 

" Where are you going, Katy ? " 

" To git a-ready for Harper s Ferry and to see Lloyd." 



As Lloyd Ouantrell entered the armory-yard with a signal of 
truce, his quickened apprehension took in the Washington family- 
carriage on the grass riddled with bullets, the engine-house doors 
splintered as if by lightning, and at least four short barrels of rifles 
pointing at himself from the door-crevices and the brick loop-holes. 

Expecting each instant to meet the fate of Stevens and wallow 
on the ground, a hulk of broken bones, he exerted his empty hand 
with an earnestness which enabled him to gain the door un- 

"Captain Brown, they are killing your son-in-law, William 
Thompson ! He cried to me for help. None but you can save 
him ! " 

At the moment he spoke a shower of balls made a circle around 
him, and the rod, on which had been his hat, was twisted out of his 
hand by a bullet which benumbed his whole arm, and from the 
wood and brick of the engine-house chips and brick-dust were 
struck. The door opened, and unseen hands pulled him in. 

" Prospectin , heigh ? " a merry voice said. 

" Your brother, Dauph Thompson, is being murdered on the 
bridge. Listen ! " 

The sounds of many guns, a faint women s wail, and a cheer 
without a note of joy in it, followed by a sort of silence such as ani 
mals keep whose food has suddenly been thrown into their dens, re 
lated some horrible story. 

Dauph Thompson turned pale, and still his voice was cheery : 

" Willy murdered ? They wouldn t do that ! " 

He threw open the engine-house door sufficiently to crouch in 
the sill, and said pleasantly, yet troubled : 

" Prospectin ." 

In a moment something appeared protruding on sticks and poles 
from the corner of the hotel and station, where the town mayor had 
exposed his life. 

" That s something to draw your fire, men ; don t be foolish ! " 
John Brown s settled, metallic voice spoke from the top of a fire- 
engine, looking through an arched and shivered window. 


Dauph Thompson stood up in the doorway and turned his face 
inward ; it was pale, as if he had a mortal wound. 

" Don t mind me !" he said, in mournful pleasantry. " I m jess 
prospectin ." 

" What is it, Dauph ? Are you hurt ? " Ned Coppock cried, 
throwing his arm around his comrade. 

" Ned it s Will s clothes they re showing full of his blood ! " 

Murderers ! " muttered Coppock. " Don t cry, Dauph. He 
give his all, and all is over now ! " 

" O Will ! Never to see you more, my brother ! " 

" Yes, Dauph. This is not all the life that good men live." 

Wiping the tears from his eyes, and shaking Coppock s hand, 
young Thompson turned his face to Captain Brown, and spoke 
pleasantly as before : 

" Prospectin , father jess once more." 

He looked at his gun, closed his lips and opened his nostrils, and 
a slight flash of spirit, more sportsman-like than serious, came from 
his eyes. 

He stood erect in the crevice of the door, and raised his gun to 
his eye. 

It went off, and with it he spun around, as if from its rebound, 
and fell upon his face on the brick floor. 

Coppock turned him over, and called 

" Dauph ! " 

" Prospectin ," replied a faint voice, and his bosom filled with his 
heart s blood. 

He had been shot, courting death, with a miner s phrase upon 
his lips, and had found the eternal treasure where the streets, they 
say, are paved with gold. 

"O Isabel!" a moaning voice came from some muddy and 
travel-stained clothes upon the floor " Oh, water, father ! " 

" Be composed, my son," spoke the steady voice of John Brown. 
" Your wife s brothers have both died like men. Die the man, like 
your brother Oliver ! " 

He gave the order to close the doors and risk no further lives, 
and to keep the prisoners back, 

Ouantrell would have been killed, to expose himself at the door, 
so he retired to the side of Watson Brown and leaned Watson s 
head upon the cold form of the dead Oliver. 

" Drink of this flask, my lad." 


This time the suffering man did not resist the life-infusing 

"Give some to Oily," muttered Watson Brown. "He is so 

Quantrell counted nine prisoners sitting around the edges of this 
nearly square room which, as has been said, was some twenty- 
four feet upon a side ; the watch-house, under the same roof, was 
now deserted by friend and foe. 

The prisoners had nothing to do, but seek to get a little rest by 
sitting upon a narrow sill or coigne, like an abortive bench, which ran 
around the chamber a little above the damp floor. Some of them 
John Brown had permitted to shield themselves with the leather 
hose or any other fireman s traps which would divert a bullet. All 
the prisoners were tractable and worried ; some nodded for a little 
while ; others ventured a word occasionally with the chief raider or 
some of his men ; and one or two had a thin, genial phrase to say, 
parrot-fashion, rather as formulse to keep up luck, than to court 
any popularity. 

" Ole Ball " was seen to be a heavy, bacon-fed, middle-aged 
man, probably of the large Virginia connection of George Washing 
ton s mother, and he paid great deference to " Cappen Smith," for, 
notwithstanding his own admissions, and the assurances of his men, 
the greatestSbewilderment still existed as to the true name, location, 
or purpose of the bandit chief, and, with dogmatic loyalty to hear 
say, the Virginians believed John Brown to be still Mr. Isaac Smith, 
carrying on some little game. 

" Josephus ! " Ball would say, when a bullet struck one of the 
engines and disported itself among the wooden girders above, 
" Cappen Smith, that was close, now ! " 

A Maryland man, with a little smiling shiver, would on such 
occasions add in a small, cowed voice : 

" Zip ! Be on your gut vivy ! " 

Mr. Washington had so far recovered from his melancholy as to 
make a suggestion at long intervals, directed ostensibly at Captain 
Smith s safety or comfort, but with a generous providence, also, 
which embraced himself. 

" Ah, captain, sah ! " he said, soon after Lloyd s entrance, " don t 
your son want a doctaw ? " 

"My son knows his duty, sir, and makes no complaint," John 
Brown remarked, inspecting his revolvers. 


"But, ah, captain, sah ! He did ask faw wataw, and captain 
ah ! we all want wataw greatly, captain." 

"Your fellow-citizens, gentlemen, have killed my men sent on 
errands of our mutual benefit, and I will take no more risks till my 
re-enforcements come. Here, men, back that fire-engine against the 
door, and stretch these ropes across the jambs ! Put the engine- 
tongue so as to hold the door against a battering, and run the other 
cart forward ! Wake up those recruits underneath the engine and 
let them earn their living ! " 

The recruits consisted of a few slaves gathered from neighbor 
ing " estates," as the farms were called ; and these negroes, debarred 
from any other excitements all their lives than Whitsuntide or " a 
licking/ were now expected to take an intelligent, indeed, heroic 
view of their first opportunity, and the white prisoners faintly smiled 
at this proof of a natural incapacity for self-government. 

" Cappen Brown," said the master-machinist of the armory, 
heretofore described as " Ole Ball," "don t you think it s an ongrate- 
ful time for these men and brethren to be a-snoozin and leave you 
to earn their salvation ? Josephus ! cap." 

A ball went whizzing among the men and peeled the rafters 

"Zip ! " said the Maryland man, in an awed voice ; " be on the 
quivivy now!" 

" Ah sah ! Torturing sah ! " from Colonel Washington. 

"The disciples," replied the gnarled old woodsman, in his 
shrill key, " went to sleep the night on Gethsemane, when their 
Master asked them to watch with him one little hour. They were 
continually sleeping, sir, until he requested them not to get up any 
more, for, said he, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man is be 
trayed into the hands of sinners. " 

A piece of glass, sheared off neatly by a bullet, went sailing 
through the room. The four men able to stand by their arms re 
turned the courtesy, and the place stank of sulphur, and every palate 
was coppery and hot. 

" Zip ! Be on the gut vivy" the Maryland man was heard to 
say, and shudder in the smoke. 

" Josephus ! Cappen Brown, how you kin remember Scripter ! " 

" Nothing remarkable about that, sir, for I studied for the Chris 
tian ministry before I was of age, till an inflammation of the eyes, 
sir, sent me back to my tan-yard." 


A nail came whistling through one of the sky-windows and 
played a little tune as it tingled on the levers of one of the engines. 
The negroes, working there, fell on the brick floor again. The 
voice of John Brown was heard to say : 

" No man is fit to fight for human nature who despairs of it. 
This world slept in trespasses and sins when the unwelcome Re 
deemer came. And why should these ignorant slaves, whose fore 
fathers came to Virginia in bondage the same year my ancestor 
came to Massachusetts in the Mayflower, be awake, when we 
alone, of all the Mayflower s children, are awake to their injustice ? 
That is why I am here, prisoners to awake this land ! I expected 
these slaves to awake last. If a thousand years to the Lord are 
but as a day, may not these three hundred years of bondage be but 
as a night of sleep to these? " 

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!" 

The four guns in the hands of Brown s surviving fighters went 
off sequentially, two at the port-holes, two at the doors. 

"Josephus!" spoke Mr. Ball, "the place smells like a bad ror 
egg ! " 

Answering shots brought down a little shower of flattened lead 
upon everybody. 

" Zip ! " said the Marylander s quaver of a voice. " No use of 
bein on the qui vivy yer ! " 

" Water ! Father ! O my God ! " a breath sighed up from 
Watson Brown. 

"Ah captain. Your son ! He is thirsty," Colonel Washing 
ton appealed. 

"My son is a brave man," replied John Brown, firmly. " I 
thirst, gentlemen, was the cry that let the Christian era in. Your 
fellow-citizens, to whom we meant no wrong, but justice, give these 
dying soldiers of mine the hyssop and the sponge of vinegar to cool 
their thirst." 

" Don t weaken for me, father ! " gasped the ashen face of Wat 
son Brown. 

" O man ! " Lloyd Ouantrell cried, " are you, who rebuked me 
for killing a dove, so merciless as to hear your son howl like this ? 
And quote your Bible, too ! " 

The usual momentary salute came tearing through the little 

Captain Brown peered out of the door, and the balls struck 


around his stiff hairs and stooping shoulders. He carried no gun, 
and returned like one who had merely been examining the weather- 

" Men," said he, "be careful now of your ammunition. My re- 
enforcements may be somewhat late. What you are to guard 
against is a sudden rush upon you, or the establishing of a rifle-pit, 
or a blind, within easy aiming distance of this building. That you 
must not permit." 

" Captain," said one of his men named Stewart Taylor, a cool, 
freckled lad, " how many re-enforcements do you expect ? " 

" It is only a question of time, Taylor," Brown answered. 
" There may be thousands of them." 

" We ve got the promise of them," a taller man exclaimed ; 
"and we re four good men yet, besides our commander." 

" Yes, Anderson," the leader remarked, stroking his long beard ; 
" we are in stout walls, well armed, and nothing but cannon can 
batter down our fort, and these prisoners forbid their using any 

He looked around upon the nine or ten discomfited men, hang 
ing or crouching there, like hams in a smoke-house when the bear 
family pay it a visit ; and the free negro, Green, the surviving one 
of the pair which had menaced Ouantrell, remarked : 

" Their lives, I guess, ain t worth no more than our n ! " 

"No, Green," John Brown replied, "prisoners must take their 
chances ; this is a war." 

Ed Coppock gave a reassuring look at the prisoners and walked 
out upon the lawn, where his rifle was soon heard to crack. He re 
turned, laughing, pursued by musketry which made the doors sound 
like rats gnawing through them. 

" I gave that Gault House a shot," he said, " in remembrance 
of poor Stevens." 

" Isabel, are you here, dearest ? I can t see you ! " from the 
pale lips of Watson Brown. 

" Drink, lad," said Ouantrell. 

" Oh, it comes out of my wounds ! " the sufferer cried, putting his 
hand upon his stomach. " I can t hold anything." 

" You have asked me a question, Mr. Quantrell," the indurated 
father observed, returning back along the course of the conversa 
tion " why I could reprove the killing of a dove, and permit the 
killing of a man, even of my son ? " 


He came over and felt of Watson s bleeding abdomen, and 
covered Oliver s dead face with a blanket, and, regarding both with 
an interest which, in its very practicality, was pathetic, he con 
tinued : 

" Blood is so precious that no man should take it for amuse 
ment ; and it is the most wholesome sacrifice to the Lord. On 
Abel s bleeding altar came the approving fire from heaven, while 
Cain, whose sacrifice of sticks God did not respect, fell on his 
brother and slew him. The sole question of bloodshed is : In 
what spirit do you shed it ? what is the motive of your sacrifice? " 

" Zip, cap n ! Be on the qui vivy ! " from the Maryland man. 

" Oh, kill me ! O my Bell ! " from the tortured Watson. 

"Your cause is just, my son. Bear it like a man," John Brown 
proceeded. " Now, sir " (to Quantrell), " it is permitted to man to shed 
the blood of animals for his necessities. Have dominion over them, 
said the Lord in the beginning. Yet every sparrow is counted, every 
lamb is measured out, and, in the dove s domestic love, is heaven 
made emblematic : the Holy Spirit s peace. As I have rebuked you 
for killing the inoffensive dove, I call this nation to account for its 
cruelty to our fellow-creatures. In either case, sir, the interference 
may have been gratuitous ; but blood of mine, and of the humble 
doves of peace, in Kansas, was shed before I began." 

"Josephus! Cappen Brown, you don t shoot us down yer, be 
cause out yonder in Kinsas there was a fight, do you ? " 

" Zip ! Be on your qui vivy ! " 

Colonel Washington s hired black servant had a considerable 
wool-clip taken out of his head at this point. 

" I want water, too," he exclaimed, in his terror. " I m chokin 
fo it ! " 

" That fellow ah ! " Colonel Washington exclaimed, in a low 
voice, to Quantrell, " came to this resort too willingly when Cook 
and Stevens ordered him ; it would be ah ! retribution, sah if he 
did lose his life, sah." 

"Mus we die heah of thirst, an de rivers full of water?" ex 
claimed the negro man, lying beside his abandoned spear. 

" There is a river," sighed Watson Brown, " whose streams shall 
make glad the city of God. Oh, let me swim there in the Au Sa 
ble ! Bell, Bell, bury me by the water, dear ; I want to lap it, dar 

He opened his eyes, and recognizing Quantrell, added, manfully: 


" Yes, bury me by my comrades, by the river-side, away from the 

" By the Au Sable, did you say, Watson ? Where is that ? " 

" It s too far," spoke the boy, deathly sweat upon his forehead ; 
" by the. Kaw ; that will do. Or by the Shenandoah. I fought by 
both streams where father said it was right." 

The evening came down upon this little scene of the mysteri 
ous invader and his four remaining soldiers, standing by their guns 
against the assembling country. Toward night the firing became 
merely drunken about the streets, and Brown let a prisoner or two 
go out from his little ark, but neither dove nor raven returned again ; 
and the whistling of trains, opposite and above the town, indicated 
the coming of more and more troops ; but still John Brown believed, 
from time to time, that they were his " re-enforcements." 

He evidently believed this, because he would confer with his men 
Anderson and Coppock being the more intelligent of these and 
he would, with the woodman-scout s carefulness of ear, compare 
the sounds of rifles in the distance, and say, " Surely they are my re- 
enforcements." His men had such entire trust in him that they of 
fered no suggestions nor criticisms, and did the whole of the fighting 
self-directed. His only order, from time to time, was, " Don t lose 
your interest, men ! Don t be surprised ! My re-enforcements are 
not far off." A rifle was seldom in his hand ; he sometimes drew 
the sword of King Frederick ; but the negro Green, alone of his men, 
was suspicions of the white prisoners. Quantrell counted these and 
sounded some of them upon the propriety of a coup de main to 
grapple with this old man s three whites and one negro, and throw 
open the doors and call for assistance : it was no longer practicable, 
for the prisoners, while not less apprehensive than in the morning, 
had become cowed in all their being, as from the short-learned habit 
of obedience. 

"Why, friend," whispered Quantrell to one of these, "has one 
day made white men slaves ? What would a hundred years not do, 
then ? " 

" Don t you feel cowed, too ? " asked his fellow-prisoner. 

" I must admit that I do, every time I re-enter this place and fall 
under that old man s influence. But why are not his little band, en 
veloped by a world of our people, also made timid ? " 

" Crazy, I reckon ! " 

" Fanatics, yes," said Lloyd " no doubt they are ; but if they 



represent many abolitionists like them, what will be the fate of 
slavery? This old fellow has the self-deception of Mohammed ; he 
is the prophet of God to all these boys : they pass, fighting, to his 

" I can t be kept much longer ! " from the dying Watson Brown ; 
" I shall see Fred and Oily, over there, by the river. Bell, let me kiss 
my little boy and go ! " 

" See there ! " Quantrell said, " he is worse than a fatalist. Who 
paid him to come here? He would get none of our land and own 
none of our slaves, if he should prevail. Fanaticism in its purest, 
most ignorant and simple form, is behind and in these men. I never 
would have believed abolitionism could amount to this." 

" Dreadful ! " moaned the man ; " I ve leaned agin this yer brick 
wall till I m damp as a goose, and my head s as sore with thinkin 
as t other end is of tryin to soften this ar brick. I didn t never think 
I could think so much as I have this yer one day." 

" How much thinking," said Lloyd, " has old Smith given to this 
thing ? He began it when he was a young man." 

" Oh, he s a smart old scoundrel. But if the Lord will let me 
out of yer, I ll promise him to think about nothing for the rest of 
my days ! " 

And so darkness fell upon the dead, upon them in bonds, and 
upon the living fanatics. Silence followed the darkness, except 
when Watson Brown cried out in pain and delirium. 

At length there came to the door, after some parley, an officer of 
a company from Maryland, a plain-speaking, German-derived man, 
whom Brown had met in his rambles, perhaps, and he said : 

" Cap n Smith, I don t bear no malice to ye. Where in the world 
did ye come from ? Who air ye ? What did ye come hyar for ? 
Now, Smith, surrender, and make no further trouble. Ye re agin 
the law you must know that." 

" If you knew who I was what I have gone through against 
this thing of slavery you could understand what brought me here, 
sir," the leader replied. " I have tried to send my proposition sev 
eral times to them in command against me. Who is in command ? " 

" Why, Governor Wise, of Virginia ; he s near by, they say, and 
the United States marines from Washington ; they ll be yer soon. 
Jist at present thar ain t no commander, ezackly." 

" Then, sir, I shall not surrender to a mob, to have my few men 
here massacred before my re-enforcements come." 


Later on, the same kindly disposed militia captain sent a doctor 
in, to see the suffering son of the bandit. He said he could not de 
termine anything without a light. Brown would not permit a light ; 
it would expose his position and the number of his command, and 
he might be taken unaware before his " re-enforcements " could ar 
rive. It was agreed, however, to prevent, if possible, firing upon 
the engine-house for the night, lest the hostages might be injured. 
The doctor promised to send in some anodyne for Watson, but it 
never came. 

A fear now seized the prisoners that, in the storming of the en 
gine-house, they would have the double danger of being killed by 
their friends or massacred by their captors ; and, this being mooted 
to Brown, he said : 

" In war, prisoners are subject to all the dangers of the belliger 
ents. I will send you to the rear as far as I can. Keep against the 
back wall there." 

" Oh, can t I git a brick that ain t so much kiln-dried," from the 
man of sore body and soul " a brick that s a leetle damp outen 
the mold, like, and that would give just a leetle ? " 

" Have to be on the qui vivy to find that," another sore voice 
from the darkness. 

" Josephus ! " another voice, like a snore, "if the Government 
work is like this night s, I shall resign and settle as fur off as Kin- 

" This night," expressed the voice of weary agony, " O darling, 
kiss me and say, Husband, go ! I am so burning ! Water, Lord 
Jesus, water ! " 

" Patience, Watson ! " the old man s voice. " Your father does 
not intend to sleep. Keep ready, men ! The enemy is treacherous 
and cruel." 

All the night long they heard this old man, alone in his responsi 
bilities, keeping up the weary vigilance of his men, and sure of " re- 

Ouantrell, busy with all chords of sensibility, from religion and 
the creeping dread of death to love and retaliation, asked himself, 
at last, the meaning of Hannah Ritner s prophecy : 

" When thou killest everything." 

He had killed nobody as yet, nor was like to do so. 

He tried to nod, but his mind kept recurring to things of life 
his father s half-withheld affection, Light Pittson s warm attractions 


and romantic admiration for himself, and Katy Bosler s nestling con 
fidence and love. 

The cool yet thirsty night passed away, and cloudy dawn came 
in at the hemispherical window-tops. 

No food, no certainty, no solution. 

Watson Brown had been rolling and vomiting and talking of his 
wife and baby all the night. His father was more of a satyr than 
ever, with spiky hair and matted beard, and powder-stains upon his 
long muzzle of a nose. No other apprehension than anxiety about 
his " re-enforcements " was in his cold, gray eyes, no tremor in those 
lean, muscle-jawed cheeks nothing less than primeval, aboriginal, 
provincial, warlike purpose, from Hebrew to Scotch Highlander, was 
in his square mouth and stone-cut eyebrows. 

Taking his rifle, he said to his men : " We will exact terms and 
be allowed to cross the river with our prisoners, or we will join our 
companions in the heaven of the merciful and the brave ! Let no 
man be a craven now. You have been faithful soldiers. Sometimes 
re-enforcements fail, but ours must come. They are promised where 
it says : Strait is the gate and narrow is the way which leadeth 
unto life, and he that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that 
loseth his life for the truth s sake shall find it. " 

Sounds of all kinds broke the early morning air the crowing 
cocks, the soaring crows, the railroad s whistle, halloos, cries, and 
huzzas ; and, finally, there came the sound of men marching past 
with solid, regular tread, upon the grass and graveled walks of the 

The raiders were all looking through port-holes and doors ajar, 
and Stewart Taylor spoke : 

" I never saw soldiers like them. What are they ? " 

" United States marines," said John Brown. 

" We re not fighting against the United States," exclaimed the 
taller man, Anderson, " but against slavery." 

" The United States," said John Brown, " protects slavery, and 
is protecting it now, with the marines we pay our taxes to sup 
port. " 

Directly afterward, while the earliest sun stood in the gateway 
down which the blended rivers rushed to extinguish it, a rap came 
on the engine-house door, and a voice, official, not loud, but with 
reserve in its tone, spoke : 

" I want to see the commander here ! " 


" I am that man," John Brown spoke, promptly, coming forward 
with the sword in his hand and the rifle leaning beside him. 

" I want you to surrender to the United States authority, of which 
I am an officer." 

" What terms am I offered ? " 

" You will be protected from the populace, and handed over to 
the civil authorities of Virginia for trial." 

" They would hang me and my men." 

" With that I have nothing to do. Do you surrender? " 

" I demand permission to cross the river on the bridge, and at 
the farther end of the bridge I will let my prisoners go, and we 
shall then have to fight for our lives. I consider this fair, lieuten 

" It is inadmissible. You must surrender." 

" I will not surrender. I will die here, resisting the United 
States ! " 

" Take the consequences, then." 

" We are ready." 

"Are you John Brown, who fought at Black Jack in Kansas? " 

" Yes ; I was there. Were you there, too ? " 

" I am Lieutenant James E. B. Stuart, of the First Regular Cav 
alry, which prevented you renewing the skirmish." 

" Why, I know you, sir. And now you know, lieutenant, how I 
came to be here." 

" You won t surrender, Brown ? " 

" Not on your conditions." 

" Very well, sir "in a tone of indifference. 

" Stand to your arms, men ! " the metallic voice of John Brown 
exclaimed. "Distribute yourselves to the best advantage. We 
shall not yield to such terms." 

"Captain Brown," interposed Taylor, respectfully, "I did not 
come here to fight the United States." 

" Nor I," said the other man, Anderson. 

" We have fought well, Captain Brown, but we can t fight our 
country," Taylor continued. " Our Canadian constitution reads, 
Look to no dissolution of the Union, but simply to amendment 
and repeal. " 

"Yes, Captain Brown," added Anderson, "and further it says, 
Our flag shall be the same our fathers fought under in the Revolu 
tion. I was the first man, captain, to come to Maryland with you; 


I helped you find the Kennedy farm for our headquarters. I have 
made war upon Virginia, but not upon the United States." 

" Do as you please, men. I shall fight. In Kansas my son sub 
mitted to the regulars, and was marched in chains under the burn 
ing sun, fettered to a dragoon s horse, and he lost his mind." 

The two men, Anderson and Taylor, unbuckled their belts of 
arms and threw them aside, set their rifles in a corner, and retired 
without fear or haste to a space within that corner, in line with the 

The dying son of John Brown sought to raise himself and take 
a gun ; but his eyes glazed, and he could not see. Ned Coppock 
went to his relief, and put Watson s head upon his lap. 

The negro man Green, troubled but not dismayed, exclaimed : 

" What will become of me ? Colored men ain t got no country 
an no flag." 

" Stand by your gun, Shields," young Coppock replied. " I 
won t see you imposed on. Captain Brown, we re three left." 

He resigned Watson Brown s care to a colored man, and came 
forward with his rifle. 

" We are three," said John Brown, firmly ; "but we shall have 

As he spoke, the old man vaulted into the upper works of the 
engine, crouched there, and bent his eye to his rifle. 

Green knelt at one side of the engine, and Coppock at the other 
side, each sheltered by a wheel. 

The two dead men were used by some of the prisoners as de 
fenses, among other articles. 

In the intensity of that moment, John Brown turned to his pris 
oners and remarked, calmly : 

" Your safety, gentlemen, is in not changing your positions dur 
ing the assault." 

Probably every prisoner there muttered or thought of some act 
of his own, or said some reverent word. 

Lloyd Ouantrell thought of the negro man he had saved, and of 
the Dunker sacrament he had taken. 

Regularly moving men were heard outside ; their side-arms were 
heard to rattle to the decision of their tread, and the words 

" First file, forward ! second file, forward ! " 

These came close to the doors ; their very breathing could be 
heard. The ragged port-hole revealed them to a few within. So 


could the prisoners be heard to breathe, and the shivering voice 
muttered like a spell to its own fears : 

" Be on the gut vivy ! " 

" Number one and two ! " from outside. 

In an instant fierce blows from great hammers were delivered 
upon the door, and the weight of those hammers expelled the 
breaths of the men who swung them through the air. 

The door trembled with the weight of those blows, but was 
large enough to distribute their power, and ropes stretched within 
made the door recoil. Only some ragged parts of the door fell with 
the shock of the sledges. 

Quantrell saw Brown looking down his rifle-breech, keen as a 
squirrel looking along a bough. 

" The first eight from each file forward ! " spoke the same voice 
of high nervous energy, in tones low pitched. 

In a moment a tremendous sound came from the door as if a 
cannon-ball had struck it. The very building seemed to quiver. 

"Are you ready, men?" from the bushy, squirrel-eyed bandit 

" Ready, captain ! " from two cool voices, of one black man and 
one white. 

" Lord-a-mercy ! " and groans from the fugitive negroes of the 
neighborhood who were back among the prisoners. 

" Back ! " from the open air. " Forward, now smart, and all 
together ! " 

The door seemed to split and to lose cohesion in all its bolts, yet 
hung by the upper hinge ; and below, where it was unhinged, a 
bright flash of daylight came in, and the legs of men in blue were 

" In there, number one ! Next man file second ! In with you ! 
Use the bayonet ! " 

As the first marine came stooping through the fissure of the 
door, the colored man Green discharged his rifle ; the man fell with 
a cry, and was dragged back from outside. 

" In with you, number two ! " 

As the second marine came in, Coppock s gun went off ; the 
man stumbled, but fell forward. Smoke, ascending from these rifles, 
filled the engine-house and slowly soared upward, and John Brown, 
lying along the top of the engine, was concealed in the smoke. 

Lloyd Quantrell saw a small man in officer s dress creep in the 

2 3 


broken space at the bottom of the door, and peer around like a rat 
as the smoke arose. 

Suddenly this man, by two switches of a sword in his hand, ex 
torted loud cries from both Taylor and Anderson, who had ceased 
to fight. 

"Murder! Oh!" 

" Quarter ! God ! " 

Ouantrell saw this small officer s elbow and bright blade thrust 
vengefully again and right into the bodies of the same unresisting 
and unarmed companions, who fell howling to the brick floor. 

His attention was for a moment diverted from this marine officer 
by a second one, possibly superior in rank to the first, who came 
half-way in and also peered around, and whose countenance was 
manly but unexcited. 

The rifle of John Brown was leveled at this man ; Ouantrell 
looked to see him fall dead. 

Brown kept the officer under his merciless aim a second, and 
then, seeing more marines come in, he put his rifle down and drew 
the sword of King Frederick. 

His act was beheld by the first marine-officer, who had been 
looking everywhere, under strong excitement, as for the leader of this 

This officer drew his bloody blade, bounded upon the side of the 
engine, and with all his might slashed the old leader across the head, 
and then, by an upward blow, delivered with the whole fury of his 
feelings, he stabbed John Brown and felled him to the hard floor of 
the engine-house. 

Hands seized one of the engines and hurled it forward. The 
door fell entirely outward, and the daylight shone upon the little 
prison and its huddling and furious or frightened beings : upon 
the smoke, the cries, the curses the living, the groaning, and the 

The next thing Ouantrell saw was the rush of a great multitude 
from the railroads and the river. They came with shrieks of 

" Hang them ! hang them ! " 

While groping his way out, Quantrell saw the maddened lieuten 
ant of marines, who had killed Anderson and Taylor and stabbed 
John Brown, strike one of his fellow-prisoners, a respectable old 
Virginia gentleman, with the flat of his sword. 

" Shame, sir ! " cried Quantrell. 


The maniacal officer turned upon our hero and smote him, also, 
with the flat of the same sword. 

Quantrell staggered backward and fell into a strong pair of arms. 

" What ! Bruder Lloyd. You here ? " 

It was Luther Bosler. He kissed Lloyd fervently in the Dunker 

The next minute Lloyd Quantrell s bleeding face was passion 
ately kissed also by Katy of Catoctin. 



WHEN Luther Bosler and his father came in from plowing at 
the premature sounding of the bell, the news of an insurrection at 
Harper s Ferry had been confirmed, and Katy was almost distracted 
by her lover s danger and the loss of her ring ; while Nelly Harbaugh, 
whose strong, worldly nature kindled at the great neighboring event, 
prodded Luther Bosler to take both the girls to Virginia. 

" Nay," Father Jake Bosler entreated, " wass is de use ? Ich con s 
net goot afforde. Te wheat-ground ain t a-ready, Luter. Stay 
away from worltly contintions. Trouble comes time enough. Bi m- 

" Fader," Katy spoke, " Lloyd s there : sell is olles" 

Saying " That is all," she broke down, and Nelly Harbaugh 
cried : 

" Dawdy Jake, you re hard on Katy : she s nervous ; she s grow 
ing ; it s a delicate time of life for Katy." 

Jake Bosler took his child in his arms and called her " leeb " and 
" dowb" while the turtle-doves at the window made their plaintive 
" ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! 

" Katy," he said, " you is too good for te city mans. Stay with 
fader, and pe te likeness of my City to my poor heart till Bi m-by." 

His eyes were full of tears as he called her the only likeness of 
his dead wife. Katy threw her arms around his neck, crying : 

" Oh, my heart pulls both-a-ways ! But Lloyd pulls it the 
most ! " 

" Jake," spoke Luther Bosler, after reflection, to his father, " tese 

2 3 2 


great events happens py us for some good purpose. We must not 
fly from te Lord s works. I ll put two hands in my place, and take 
te girls." 

" No, Luter, stay home. I m daddy, and I forbid you." 

" I m minister ofer you, Jake, and you must opey." 

" Tere s your gal, sohn Luter Nelly s giddy. Keep her at home 
and to work, and you ll haf her to enjoy. Take her into te world, 
and she ll find temptation. Bi m-by." 

Luther took up the Bible and called to prayers ; he prayed for 
Nelly and for Katy, and for peace in the world. 

" Now, girls," he said, arising, " we ll make some pusiness out of 
all this. Harper s Ferry is, maype, full of hungry strangers. You 
git to work and cook pies, chickens, ham, whatefer will sell, and I 
think I can pring home to fader more money than plowing prings." 

Jake Rosier seemed placated at this business outlook, and went 
to the stable to give special bedding to the horses for the jour 

All night the girls and hands stayed up to cook, and before day 
light the big wagon, with two seats in it, was moving down the South 
Mountain side. Climbing the mountain, they saw Burkettsville s 
spires come out of the valley mists, and in Crampton s Gap the early 
partridge cried " Bob White ! " Katy slept in Nelly s lap. 

"Pure child," said Nelly, "her worldly love is fresh, Luther, as 
a new-laid egg in the hen s nest ; what will it hatch ? " 

"Experience, dear. If you are in love, it will be the same." 

" Luther, you are too wise a merchant to be a Dunker preacher. 
You will get rich if you take to the world. Oh, take me to see a lit 
tle of the world, before we settle into everlasting Sabbath ! I want 
experience, too what Lloyd s father called career. There is no 
want of love for you, my darling, in my heart, but I am not made " 
she blushed as she thought of her own vanity " to be always un 

" No," said Luther, "you are peautiful, Nelly. You shall pe seen 
of children, healthy like yourself, and one of those is more career 
than any man can have. To be a mother, supreme ofer a family it 
is experience only one man efer had, and that was Adam, from 
whose side the woman came." 

She blushed at the moment s anticipation of purely brought 
motherhood ; but suddenly men started up between the cross-roads 
in Crampton s Gap and seized the horses bridles. 



" Money ! " exclaimed one a slight, stooping youth, with pale 
blue eyes ; " we want your money to buy subsistence." 

Around them were seven men, one a negro, and all the rest 
white travel-worn, stern young men, and revolvers were in their 

"You are fugitives from Harper s Ferry," spoke Luther, looking 
at them out of his large, sluggish eyes. " We have food and plenty 
of it ; take, and pay, if you can. But we carry no money in this 

They ate like famished men, and inquired about all the roads to 
the free State. 

" Walk on te mountain-ridge," said Luther; " it is wooded and 
not often steep, but you may get thirsty for water. When you de 
scend to the springs, look well for enemies. Beware at te free-State 
line of te kidnappers, who are probably lying in wait for you. Get 
well into Pennsylvania before you descend te mountain yes, twenty 

They apologized for rudeness, and went up into the mountain- 
ridge, northward, while Luther turned at the guide-post in the Gap 
to the south, and threaded the narrow Pleasant Valley by the wind 
ing cascades of Israel s Creek. They fed at the Bunker church 
yard, at Brownsville, and as they drew near Harper s Ferry, be 
fore sunrise, the roads became crowded. All the country was up, 
and Sandy Hook was like the center of a great camp-meeting. Sol 
diery were waiting at the bridge, travel from everywhere stopped at 
this ragged point, and time continued to bring more and more 
crowds. The old man, Isaac Smith, had suspended the Western 
world to the wand of his mysterious will. 

Luther sold out his load before he crossed the bridge, and awaited 
the preparations to storm the engine house. They saw the marines 
formed, and the quiet Colonel Lee giving the signals to the marine- 
officers from a place in the armory-yard ; and then the rush of thou 
sands to the captured stronghold. 

After Katy found her lover, they still paused to see the dying son 
of Brown led out, and Lloyd Quantrell gave him water, which ran 
through his wounds ; and so, in time, Watson died in Coppock s 
arms, peacefully and unconscious. 

Colonel Washington was the hero of the delivery, and his gest 
ures, when returning felicitations, had the grandeur of his origin. 
The mob ran his hired negro into the river Shenandoah and 


drowned him there, and desired to tear John Brown to pieces, also, 
but he, from his blood and bruises, exclaimed to the better officer 
of the marines : 

" Sir, I had you covered with my rifle ; I expect you to protect 
my life, as I protected yours." 

The officer saluted the brave old man. " Captain Brown," 
said he, " I thank you ; in return, I will protect you with my 

Very soon the queer old captive was complacently conducting 
an argument with the Governor of Virginia, a man of great roman 
tic sensibility, who had already planned, on this hnente, a political 
campaign to make him President of the United States ; and the two 
delightfully vain characters were entertaining reporters, Congress 
men, and militia-captains with their sallies : but around one lay his 
dead sons, sons-in-law, and comrades ; and his political campaign 
would lead to nothing but the scaffold, to which he had the task to 
give dignity, if possible. 

He turned out to be poor as pauperdom itself, without the means 
to transport himself back from the slave States to the free States, 
had he ever repented, and he had begged the little money for this 
expedition as the last enterprise of a disappointed but once promis 
ing career. 

The bodies of his sons and connections were either taken by 
surgeons to the dissecting-room at Winchester, or buried with their 
comrades in a pit across the Shenandoah, where they lie near the 
unending grief of the plaintive river poor bones of boys assembled 
by a wizard, to be the last relics of a mastodon age, and ever curi 
ous to moral, mental, and political science. 

Those followers of Brown who survived, fitted to his situation 
with the anatomical symmetry of his own ribs ; they continued to 
accept the leadership of his dignity, phttosophy, and consistency, as 
they had followed him upon that forlorn hope to which his sincerity 
had given infatuation and plausibility. 

Ned Coppock, taken with his smoking gun, soon became a hero 
among his captors ; Stevens was put together, like a bloody puzzle ; 
and these two were sent to Charlestown jail, eight miles away, with 
Captain Brown, in a wagon, as also the negroes, Green and Cope- 
land, while the pursuit of the seven fugitives went on in the Mary 
land and Pennsylvania mountains. 

The whole land was finally convinced that John Brown had 


made his insurrection with an " army " of only twenty-three men, of 
whom ten had died fighting. 

It might have been possible to treat John Brown s raid as with 
out full moral accountability, and thus to have remanded it, by the 
contempt of justice, to the silence of a lunatic asylum ; but the poli 
tician at the head of Virginia became the instrument to connect this 
little affair with the mightiest revolution of the age. 

Governor Wise summoned the military of Virginia to arms, upon 
the belief, or pretense, that Brown s was only a portion of a general 
insurrection and abolition invasion ; and the little court-house place 
of Charlestown became, for five months, a garrisoned spot during 
the trials and executions of Brown and his survivors, while the ex 
ample of Virginia led to the arming of every slave State, and thence 
proceeded the fomentation of the scheme of a separated republic, to 
assure the safety of slavery. 

To Charlestown, therefore, let us soon proceed with our story- 

Katy Bosler, after fondly receiving her lover, cried : 

" Te accordion, Lloyd ; where is it ? " 

" I left it at the old bandit s farm, Katy." 

" Oh, goodness ! And, Lloyd, te fortune-teller, who said I 
should lose my ring, has run away with it to Pennsylvania. O 
darling, what shall we do ? " 

" Go after them both, Kate, if your dear little heart is troubled. 
I have enlisted in one of the military companies to put down this in 
surrection, and we are ordered to cross the river and see if the enemy 
is at his stronghold." 

" Come on, then," said Luther Bosler ; " I ll trife by John Brown s 
farm, and go home by Solomon s Gap." 

As they were setting out, the English pointer appeared, profuse 
in his gladness of rejoining friends ; and to Katy he was ever a flat 
terer, cringing at her feet and licking her hand. 

" The hound loves you, Kate," Lloyd Quantrell said ; " I ll give 
him to you, to keep at the farm in remembrance of me." 

At the school-house in the marsh, boxes of arms were found, 
ready to be transported to Virginia. At the little rugged farm, they 
found many evidences of the conspiracy : letters torn to pieces in 
the short, thick pines, and arms and lead in the tenement of logs 
across the road ; discarded bundles, boxes, and bags ; and on the porch 
the dog Fritz stood tied, and hardly disposed to permit intrusion. 


Lloyd attempted to go by this dog, to look for Katy s accordion, 
and Fritz seized him by the garments and held him fast. 

" Hallo ! " Quantrell said ; " why, here s the last of Captain 
Brown s recruits, and determined as all the rest." 

" Fritz is a faithful friend," said Luther Bosler ; " not as valu 
able a dog as yours, Lloyd, but more reliable. Katy will gif him to 

"Yes, Lloyd, if I find you took good care of my accordion." 

Quantrell disappeared into the loft of the small cabin, and there 
he found the humble instrument under the eaves. 

" Here it is, Kate," he cried, returning; "you little goosey, what 
makes you fear? " 

" Now go and find her ring," Nelly Harbaugh spoke ; "it was 
your mother s ; it will make Katy your wife. Hannah Ritner has 
gone to the Siebentager Nunnery, only a clay s ride from here, in 

" Shall I go, darling? " He turned to Katy. 

" O Lloyd, do go ! De letsht naucht wars orrick dtmkle." 

" Dark was that night, also, to me, bright eyes, when I expected 
to be killed and never see you more." 

" Lloyd, your father says he will marry you to a Cordullish a 
Catholic, one hochmoot un retch. If you do not find my ring, I 
shall believe it." 

" Dear old father ! But he can no more make me love another 
than he can love me, dear. How does he know this strange Ritner 
woman ? Why, now I see something ! " 

" What is it, Lloyd ? " 

" That pony she rides I have seen in my father s stable. He, 
like Hannah Ritner, is an abolitionist." 

As they paused to let the horses blow on Elk Ridge Mountain 
summit, the vale of John Brown was seen behind them, stony and 
steep, and before them the verdurous Pleasant Valley, with its stone 
farm-houses and apple-orchards, and, like a great, green vine swung 
low, the South Mountain drooped to Crampton s Gap, to give ad 
mission to the Catoctin Valley. 

" Katy, good-by," Lloyd said ; " don t ever fear for me, gentle 
child ! Never in love before, I could not forget you now, if every 
interest declared against you." 

" I shall nefer let you go," the child said, with a resolution he 
had not observed in her before. " Since you haf come, Love has 


took possession of me. I will pray ; I will persevere. I don t see 
how I am to get you, Lloyd, but I don t dare to lose you." 

" O Katy ! " exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh, " the difel of love is 
striving in you as I never saw it before. I could not be so head 

" Nelly," spoke Katy, in the tempest of her woe and courage, 
" you can never love like me ! " 

Procuring a horse from a Dunker farm, on Minister Luther Bos- 
ler s request, Quantrell made his way to Smoketown, and entered 
the garden of Hannah Ritner. 

The cool mountain-brook gurgled through her lot ; the gourds 
hung from the arbors ; the bees were humming drowsily in the hive ; 
but stable and dwelling were empty of furniture, and the mountain 
behind the house was streaked with the foot-tracks of escaping 

The neighbors told him that the fortune-teller was a great trav 
eler, especially into Pennsylvania, and was now reported to be in 

Quantrell put his horse in Hannah Ritner s stable, and lay down 
to sleep alone in the little hut. He was very tired, and not until he 
had slept off his burden of fatigue did he begin to dream. 

He dreamed that his mother s lost wedding-ring was a great 
wheel or tire of mourning gold, with black enamel in its rich yellow, 
and he was trying to roll it like a hoop up the mountain ; but it 
weighed heavily upon his sinews, and he felt it overthrowing him 
with its backward gravity ; he cried for help, but all the response he 
could hear was a little baby s cry, until, when he had given up hope 
and resigned himself to be crushed by the black and gleaming cinct 
ure, a pike or spear was hurled from above, as if out of the sky, 
and it transfixed the mighty ring, like a dart ringed by a golden 
quoit ; at once the ring was fractured, and the black enamel upon 
it was detached like a separate hoop, and went thundering down 
South Mountain with a sound like rolling fire, and he could hear it 
plunge into the Antietam Creek and sizz there, like the red-hot stones 
which, at hog-butchering time, the farmers boil their scalding hogs 
heads with. 

Dart after dart came ringing from above the very pikes, it 
seemed, that he had seen in boxes that day at the bandits rendez 
vous and each of these entered the other lucent rim of virgin gold 
remaining there, which, like a mirror, flashed the heavens back, and, 


becoming magnified to powerful proportions, this ring contained an 
inscription, " Pure Union." 

Ouantrell was afraid to look up and see what valkyrias or spirits 
had hurled those lances into the nuptial band ; but, as the golden rim 
grew more and more distinct, he began to see faint faces reflected 
from the sky faces with blood upon them : the ashen face of Wat 
son Brown, the bloodless blue lips of Oliver Brown, the raven 
beard and wounds of Kagi, the hollow sphere of Lehman s skull, the 
mute, appealing countenance of William Thompson, and others he 
feared to pause and think on. 

He a\voke : at the little window of the cabin a golden-ringed 
light of a burning piece of pine illuminated a group of faces pressed 
against the panes. Quantrell raised a yell of dread. 

The light was extinguished ; steps were heard receding. 

" This is a witch s den ! " thought Ouantrell, his heart bounding 
in his breast ; " surely I saw the faces there of old John Brown, 
of Ned Coppock, and of Hazlett, Cook, arid others of their 

He entered Hagerstown next day, and found the whole popula 
tion talking of the raid, and looking at himself and at all strangers 
with suspicion. Large rewards were out for Cook and others, 
guessed at or known, and Isaac Smith, or Brown, had been seen by 
half the people in the town, hauling away the boxes of arms he had 
received by rail from Chambersburg. 

To that place Quantrell fearlessly proceeded, taking a round 
about course through a famous kidnappers settlement called 
Leitersburg, within sight of the Pennsylvania boundary-line. Here 
the tavern was beset by wild-looking borderers, and Ouantrell nar 
rowly escaped being made to stop and fight.- according to the 
chivalry of those times ; he " treated " liberally at the bar and was 
relieved to find that the Logan brothers, whose chief rendezvous 
this was, had gone off in the South Mountain to hunt for John 
Brown s fugitives. 

Resolved to keep his word to Katy, the young man slowly con- 
tinued on to Chambersburg, a flourishing shire town, twenty miles 
within Pennsylvania, and there, too, the excitement about the great 
abolition raid was universal. 

Hundreds of people stood before an old, low warehouse with 
derrick windows, where John Brown had stored his Kansas rifles 
so long before employing them ; and threatening groups molested a 



plain boarding-house on a back street, where the recruits for 
Brown, and that redoubtable captain himself, had been accommo 
dated with Christian shelter. 

The keeper of this dwelling bore the same family name as Han 
nah Ritner, and was said to be a daughter-in-law of a former Gov 
ernor of Pennsylvania, but Lloyd found such apprehension and 
terror in the family that he could get no information of their 
mysterious connection, though he thought, when he said he was 
the son of Abel Ouantrell, that they took a suspicious interest in 
him for a moment. 

The Governor of Pennsylvania was a Democrat, of the same 
political party as the Governor of Virginia, and would manifestly 
deliver any of Brown s band up to the jurisdiction they had 
offended. The Pennsylvania public considered Brown s greatest 
offense to have been the purloining the sword of General Washing 
ton ; and it was thought hardly less culpable to have provided a 
" nigger " with bed and board in a white family. 

The person that all popular vengeance was now directed against 
was little Captain Cook, the forerunner and spy of the raiders, and 
he was believed to be in the very county of Scotch and Irish settlers 
where Quantrell was now wandering. 

Considering that Hannah Ritner might be at the Seventh-Day 
Baptist kloster or nunnery, Lloyd, several days after the raid, turned 
his horse southward and began to approach the bright bounding 
hillocks of the South Mountain again. Toward evening he entered 
an old German hamlet called Funkstown, near the clove of the 
mountain, where the source of the Antietam Creek ran out, dis 
colored with the ores of iron from an old furnace in the gorge. 
The aspect of the region was romantic, yet sinister, as if the near 
contact of slavery had caused premature decay and human degra 
dation. He was eating his plain supper in the tavern, at the en 
trance to the little town, when he heard the sound of many feet in 
the small sitting-room and bar, near by. 

"Don t be afraid of me, boys; I won t do you any harm," he 
heard a not unfamiliar voice say. 

Looking out, Quantrell saw a mob of little boys, trembling in 
the presence of one hardly bigger than the least of them. 

This childish figure had his hands tied behind him, and was 
dirty and disordered, like one who had been living in the holes of 
foxes, or crawling on the earth like the serpents there. 



"Eat your supper," spoke a practical voice; "we must have 
you in Chambersburg Jail to-night, so be quick." 

The speaker had a low, mercenary sparkle in his eyes. His 
victim s long-fringed orbs of blue shone out amid his dirt, and gave 
him some of the pathos and dignity of fate. 

" Poor Captain Cook ! " Ouantrell exclaimed ; " to think that he 
can be, in the eyes of any law, a worse being than his captor, that 
vile slave-taker ! " 

" If you mean Ben Logan," cried a plain man at the table, " I 
pray you not to speak so loud. He has his slave-pen close by us 
here, under the mountain, and in this clove the runaway slaves 
generally come down, thinking they are full ten miles inside of a 
free State. Logan takes them here, and gets his blood-money ; and 
he has a band of lads he has demoralized, who would stop at no re 

Nevertheless, Ouantrell made no concealment of his person ; the 
slave-taker looked at him with some dislike, but it was now all sub 
ordinated to the avarice of a thousand dollars reward. 

"John," said Ouantrell to the boy, who had washed his face and 
was eating like a famished wolf, as he stood before the drinking-bar, 
"what did you quit the safe mountain for?" 

"Starvation!" replied Cook; " my companions were dying for 
food, and I quit them to find it." 

" You might as well have sold life dear ; you will surely be exe 

" They surprised me," said Cook, the food sticking in his throat, 
as his feelings rose. " But for their treachery, I would have taken 
a bloodhound s life for every ball in my revolver." 

" Oh," said another captor of the boy, complimentarily, " he 
fought like a wild monkey. Four of us was atop of him at once, and 
the fattest feller had jest to fall on him and knock the breath out of 
him before he would give in." 

" I pity you, Cook," Quantrell said ; " though you, also, played a 
treacherous part." 

" You may well pity me, sir," the frail little man said, with swim 
ming eyes ; " my comrades have no great friends, and can die with 
sincerity, while my distinguished relatives will ruin my fame to save 
my neck, and I shall be hanged all the same." 

They took him to Chambersburg Jail in the pleasant autumn aft 
ernoon. The news soon came that Hazlett, too, was recaptured at 



Carlisle ; but the brother of Coppock, and another son of John Brown, 
and two other whites and a negro, under the kind vigilance of Han 
nah Ritner s friends, escaped to Canada. 

As Ouantrell was walking up into the gorge at Mount Alto fur 
nace, looking at the spot where Cook had been taken, after an ex 
citing struggle, an employe at the iron-works said : 

" Are you aware that the patron of John Brown is a relative of 
the chief captor of this Captain Cook ? " 

" How so ? " 

" The papers say that the great abolitionist, Gerrit Smith, gave 
the land in the Adirondack woods, where John Brown s family live. 
Now, Gerrit Smith married the daughter of Colonel Fitzhugh, of 
Hagerstown, and she is the aunt of that other man who, with Logan, 
took Cook away to claim the reward. So the aunt helps Brown and 
his band to come here, and her nephew sells him to Virginia." 

"Strange," said Ouantrell, "what coincidences lie in this short 
vale of the Antietam ! We may be on the brink of a great strife, and, 
if so, the hurrying fates that have encamped in this small district 
may keep it still in their commemoration." 

Ha next rode down the strong brook of the Antietam, to the old 
Seventh-Day Baptist nunnery. 

It stood in a crevice of the mountain foot-lands, where a meadow 
bubbled up in copious springs which, fashioned into a bed, wound 
in a strong brook between the long brick monastery and the low, 
massive, white-plastered church, and then, caught up in a mill-race, 
turned two old Bunker mills. The dwelling, or kloster-house, was 
nearly a hundred and fifty feet long, and of a delightfully broken 
form, with a great - chimneyed, squatting kitchen in the middle, 
flanked by long conventional wings on one side a cool porch and 
several doors, the other side more primitively German, with little 
lines of windows, and over the center dormers rose the naked cupola 
and bell. The gurgling brook, talking at its birthplace, described 
such gossipy rounds of flowing, that all the parts of this settlement 
seemed to be in a circle, and fruit sprang out of the earth as if here 
was some old corner of Paradise, neglected but uncursed. The hu 
mid spring meadow was tinted with blue sedge and flowers, and a 
pond in the midst was their looking-glass. Woods and rocks shut 
in the church, and its two doors that separated the vexing mystery 
of sex ; cultivated hills hid the nunnery from the south ; the cedar, 
fern, ailantus, catalpa, apple, and pear trees gave grateful shade ; 


and milk and cider showed their butteries and presses to the covet 
ous eye of the homeless tramp, for whose terror a sign was put on 
the door, which none of his brotherhood was ever known to heed. 
Close by, the graveyard showed the tombs of the Snowbergers, for 
whom Snow Hill (berg) was named, and of their Ephrata-reared 
friends ; and the South Mountain, losing its coherence here in Penn 
sylvania, described great hillocks and cones near by, and in the 
south showed the blue promontory in which it crossed the free- 
State line, and then swerved irresolutely away. 

Quantrell looked everywhere for some human being to speak to. 
Finally, he saw people women and men off in the fields reaping 
late hay and preparing winter ground. He remembered that it was 
the Sabbath, when the contrary zeal of sect impelled even the lazy 
Seventh Dayers to exert themselves, lest they might be thought to 
respect the Sabbath they had discarded. 

He spoke to some of the women, but they paid not the least at 
tention to him old, fat, dull women, like winter apples, never ripe 
nor mellow ; they wore their hoods of figured brown or black calico, 
and plied their rakes, and seemed between a blush and contempt of 

"Are you Job Snowberger ? he addressed the solitary man 
among these ancient pullets. 

The man looked at him, with a countenance where gallantry had 
been suppressed and curiosity flagellated, an envious, simple smile, 
and proceeded to whet his scythe. 

" Are you deaf, or only a fool ? " 

"Unsktcklich!" exclaimed the man, with a piping cry, like a 
disappointed child s, and his mouth turned toward the women. 

These came upon Quantrell with their field implements, all 
shouting German words together, and one or two looked as if desir 
ous to fight a man, if merely for the novelty of encounter. 

" I m a-tryin to persewere," cried the man, with tears of temper 
in his eyes, "and he calls me Norr." 

The women raised their rakes and hoes on Quantrell. 

" Poor fellow ! " Lloyd said ; " the last rooster on the hill, and 
protected by the hens ! But don t be violent, my beauties. I only 
want to find Hannah Ritner, for little Katy Bosler." 

" Wass f " exclaimed the man, "is Katy persewerin ? Unshitl- 
dich ! Does she seek te Kloster and te heilich life ? O yube- 
lee " 



" Week gae ! " cried the old women, turning back to their work, 
as if disgusted with such enthusiasm. 

" I m Katy s beau Lloyd and I want to find Hannah Ritner, 
and get Katy s engagement-ring." 

" Weck-gae ! Depart ! " cried Job Snowberger, again in tears. 
" Shweshter Marcella is in Ohio. Katy is in sin. You are in mis 
chief, and you ll persewere in it. Te ring of Bosler s child is lost in 
te spring." 

He pointed to an old dairy by the nunnery-kitchen, and, falling 
tearfully to his reaping, began to wail a piping psalm. 

" Gone mad betwixt love and scorn of love, I reckon," Ouantrell 
said, walking to the dairy-house. 

Lying there on the floor was Andrew Atzerodt, beside the troughs 
of water, an empty bottle at his side. His snore was relieved by the 
falsetto of Job Snowberger in the meadow, sounding like a babe s 

Quantrell bent over the spring, and in it the light, falling upon 
some tin or metal object, described a shining circle in the bubbles. 

" That s what the poor lunatic meant by Katy s ring, I reckon," 
Quantrell said ; " he s gone on Katy, like myself." 

Atzerodt aroused, and looked up wofully. 

" Here, you vagrant fellow, come back with me to Virginia, and 
to your coach-maker s trade ! " 

"Never!" answered Atzerodt; "I m doing nothing now but 
hunting niggers and apolitionists, and running pet ween te lines." 



As Atzerodt and Quantrell walked into Charlestown, Virginia, 
after many delays, they found it convenient to take one of the side 
streets, and avoid the herds of militia; for the entire State had 
knocked off work, and was making Brown s immortality with more 
than the directness of superior intelligence. 

It had suited the prevailing opinion there to assume the gravity 
of a great injury, too deep to permit any other State to share it. The 
inhabitants, talking on the subject to strangers, adopted a reserve 



which showed how the sensitiveness of slaveholding had destroyed 
personal individuality, and banded into almost maudlin one-minded- 
ness, like Niobe and her family, a society scarcely beyond its pioneer 
period ; for a house where Atzerodt stopped to peep in was, like 
many others, composed of recently hewn forest logs. He drew 
back in a moment and exclaimed : 

" Py Jing ! tere s te black man with te white face ! " 

Quantrell approached the shutters ajar, and, at the first adjust 
ment of the light within to his eyes, he cried : 

Why, that s John Booth, the actor, my friend and school 
mate ! " 

A young man with a large, intelligent face, given pale contrast 
by his rich, black mustache and curling black hair, was reciting in 
the middle of the floor, listened to by males and females with the 
greatest interest. 

" It s te very picture of te man I rode with in my dream, py 
Jing ! " Atzerodt continued. 

The reciter within ended his task with these lines, given with 
robust and nearly impassioned vehemence : 

" Heroic matron ! 

Now, now, the hour is come ! By this one blow 
Her name s immortal and her country saved. 
Hail, dawn of glory ! Hail, thou sacred weapon ! 
Virtue s deliverer, hail ! " 

" Look, Lloyd ! " whispered Atzerodt. " Py Jing ! he s got a 
knife in his hand, shoost like te black man with te white face ! " 

The young actor did shake above his head, and apostrophize it 
fervently, a glittering thing continuing : 

" Did not the Sibyl tell you 
A fool should set Rome free ? I am that fool ! 

Hear me, great Jove ! and thou, paternal Mars, 

And spotless Vesta ! To the death, I swear, 

My burning vengeance shall pursue these Tarquins ! 

Valerius, Collatine, Lucretius all 

Here I adjure ye by this fatal dagger, 

All stained and reeking with her sacred blood, 

Be partners in my oath revenge her fall ! 



Up to the forum ! On ! the least delay 

May draw down ruin, and defeat our glory. 

On, Romans, on ! The fool shall set you free ! " 

Loud applause followed the reciter s tragedy-selection, from 
the same author whose piece of " Sweet Home " had been the bat 
tle-march of John Brown. In a moment the actor came out, fol 
lowed by some of his more intimate admirers, and he called affec 
tionately to Quantrell : 

" My dear Lloyd, where did you come from ? " 

" Maryland, John. And you ? " 

" From Richmond. I threw up my engagement at the theatre 
there when I heard of this outrage, and enlisted in the Grays ; and 
I am here to stay till these myrmidons are hanged and Virginia 
avenged. Let me introduce you to my friends Mr. Arnold, Mr. 
O Laughlin, young Master Herold,and Mr. Fenwick, of the clergy." 

Quantrell hesitated about introducing Atzerodt, who was un- 
shaved and shabby, but he saw that Booth s following was hardly 
more genteel. 

Arnold he had seen, as a Baltimore bread-baker s son of the old 
German stock ; O Laughlin, as a runner in that city, of the opposite 
political party. Herold was a mere lad from Washington, modest 
and wondering ;. and Fenwick, who wore a black suit neatly buttoned 
to the throat, and had a silver watch-guard, was a fresh, square-set 
blonde, with the dignity of the Catholic novitiate priest that he was. 

"Who is your friend, Lloyd?" asked the actor. "We are all 
Virginians here." 

"This is one also, I believe Mr. Atzerodt." 

Bo^oth shook the common fellow s hand with such kindness that 
he stammered out : 

" Say ! Vere is dat womans dat said Sharge ! te night we 
rode up te Short Mountain ? " 

" What does he say ? " asked Booth. 

" Oh, he had a dream, when he was tipsy, and so he is tipsy now, 
and he thinks he saw you in that dream." 

" Oh, some people are carried away by the acting," remarked 
Booth, considerately, as they walked along. " Now, do you know, 
I don t set much value on acting ? This is what I like real cam 
paigning. Here is meat for your John Howard Paynes to write 
about the coming of the Tarquins to this beautiful valley, their 
murdering of its yeomanry, and inciting servile insurrection ; and who 



would not prefer to be Junius Brutus, to either the author or the 
player of his part ? Think of the time when the hero of a convul 
sion like this will be the subject of poetry, and, as he jnflicts revenge 
for Virginia s injuries, he utters the motto Jefferson gave the shield 
of the insulted State, Sic semper tyrannts ! Thus ever with 
tyrants ! " 

Halting as he spoke, Mr. Booth put his foot upon a stone riding- 
step at the curb, as upon a tyrant s head, and again raised his white 
hand and eloquent face to the sunlight. 

Quantrell now saw that Booth had been drinking a little, and was 
unusually aggressive. 

" The stage," said the divinity student, Fenwick, much impressed 
by Mr. Booth s trained pulpit manner, " has never illustrated morals 
as it might do, Mr. Booth, in gentlemen bred for it, from religious 
homes like yours. That, perhaps, is why actors seldom realize in 
private life the affected virtues they delineate. Yet there is no rea 
son why an actor may not be a hero, too." 

" He can t be, Father Fenwick " (the " father " a deferential ref 
erence to the youthful priest s canonicals) ; " the actor is a closet-rat, 
a caged-up hawk. He must make so many paces to the rear, turn 
and fence, or strike, at such a distance from the foot-lights, go off 
by this or that numbered slide or exit ; and all that preparation to 
deceive or impersonate is called study. Here is the nobler theatre 
of the roads, the cross-paths, the ravines, and the country maids. 
If I had been at Harper s Ferry, there would have been a chance : 
I am the best shot in the profession ; I can jump like a circus-rider. 
My study has not been of dog-eared play-books, like my father s 
other sons : I have qualified myself for a soldier and a champion. 
With two or three good drinks in me, I would have been the man 
to give old Brown s party the start they wanted, and tell off an 
equal number of brave men with them, and chase them up the 
canal side of the river, killing as we went, or dying in our blood. 
What a death, or victory, would that have been ! " 

His animated, yet hardly egotistical manner, made its impres 
sion, and O Laughlin said : 

" Wilkes, I ve seen you fence, and jump, and spar, too, and I 
know how you parley vous of it." 

"And, John, I ve seen you ride the devilishest horses in Harford 
or Howard Counties," Arnold added, " and you never got throwed 


"You ain t a bad man to be out with for a scrimmage, after mid 
night," added Quantrell, " as I have found out." 

The recipient of these compliments took them with a good na 
ture which had yet a manful health in it ; he was not a tall man, but 
of strong-welded, equal bodily parts, the arms showing large muscle 
under his soldier- sleeves ; and he was a little bowed in the legs, but 
this was only noticeable when one measured him for athletic utili 
ties. His figure was so gentlemanly that he never would have been 
suspected of any physical affectations or prowess, but for his own 
reference to those subjects, which Quantrell, who knew him long, 
ascribed to his having drunk some liquor. The soldier-clothes and 
pompon hat he wore admirably became his trim figure and striking 
yet harmonious face, lighted by fine black eyes and in all its features 
clear and considerate. 

" Py Jing ! " exclaimed Atzerodt, " I played on te theatre, too ! " 
" You ? " from Quantrell. 

" Yes, py Jing ! I built the biggest band-wagon for te circus dat 
ever started from Fergeenia. It was shoost as long as dis street. 
It held most a hundert music-players. I trove it, py Jing " 

"And what then, old fellow?" Mr. Booth asked, with mis 
chief in his eye, throwing an arm affectionately around the boy 

" Why, I trove it into a ditch, py Jing, and proke te heads of 
tern tarn horn-blowers ! Hya, ya ! " 

All laughed loudly at Atzerodt s manner and terrier-bark of a 
laugh ; and so they walked along, noting the straight, ridgy turn 
pike town, with its houses of brick, limestone, or logs, turned side- 
wise to the narrow sidewalks, and in the distance the Blue Ridge, 
or South Mountain, rising from the wooded fosse of the river Shen- 

In a depression of Charlestown stood the brick, porticoed court 
house, opposite a tavern, and the stone - and - brick jail opposite 
another tavern, and diagonally opposite the court-house. At these 
corners was all the semblance of militia pomp sentries, guard 
houses, officers of the day, colonels, and generals ; orderly sergeants 
riding, self-important, on errands of mighty insignificance ; horses 
tied to racks, and warriors bowing and scraping, ogling and sus 
pecting. There was apparently some Satanic plot, in the air or un 
der ground, to bewizard this sturdy, steady, demi-German popula 


Rumors of coming abolitionists to rescue Brown and his six 
men were of daily and nightly verification : frenzied people came in 
who had seen marching columns ; from the house-tops of Charles- 
town signal-lights and bale-fires had been distinctly noticed ; anony 
mous letters threatening more insurrections came through the post ; 
the United States Government was as fully suspended here as if Vir 
ginia meant to cast it off ; and the mails those nerves of healthy 
life or the torturing pins of political neuralgia were manipulated, 
assorted, and controlled. 

Thus, as the secret of a murder, extending through a large fam 
ily connection, discolors the world to them, the cry of the unpaid 
laborers rang forever in the ears of those who had inherited the sys 
tem, and two insurrections in one whole generation had been met 
somewhat as if expected the injury was felt to be proportionate to 
the hazard of the institution. 

Of all places in the world, except Mount Vernon, here was the 
spot to point the lesson of John Brown the family settlement of 
General Washington s younger brethren, who had crossed the South 
Mountain barrier, not as the " Knights of the Golden Horseshoe," but 
as the knights of shoeless herds of slaves, to mix this degraded labor 
with the old German tide of voluntary labor, from Pennsylvania, and 
up the long valley, between the mountain parallels, to drive the dis 
colored tide till, in the ignorant white race of the far Southwest and 
the hopeless black race there, phosphatic death seemed rich for the 
chemist of Revolution, to come, with his burning acids and hot re 
torts, and manure the New World with human bones. 

The streets of Charlestown were labeled with the Washington 
family s prenoms, and in the churchyard there lay their dead ; and 
the foremost of that name, which King George had put a bloody 
price upon, w r as but yesterday the captive of John Brown, the abo 
litionist, who desired to exchange him for " a nigger." 

Was it this despair of pride, in a system as fleeting as the rob 
ber s booty, which occasioned all this military pomp ? Or was it the 
self-deception of the Pharisee, which exalted to self-respect, and 
even to didactic and reasoning retort, the dying and impenitent thief 
beside the unfriended martyr ? 

This discrimination, which is the first of political crimes, is also 
the foundation of public hypocrisy the classifying of men from the 
standard of one s own righteousness; and there was nothing so 
righteous in its own esteem, in all the nineteenth Christian century, 



as the insulted slavery of Virginia. Like Lucretia of old, it fain 
would die, in this instant of such perfect purity as to have become 
rapine s victim. 

No face in Charlestown showed this expression of almost antique 
and fateful yet holy reverie like John Beall s, whom they met before 
the principal tavern, and whom Ouantrell introduced to Mr. Booth. 
His settled features, straight lines of brow and mouth, and reserved 
address, were those of a man against whom, alone, the whole insult 
of Brown s raid had been directed. 

He accompanied the party to a drinking-room, but would not 
partake ; and, while they stood there, a tall, slim young person, 
straight as an Indian, and looking straight also as an Indian s arrow, 
walked up to Mr. Booth. 

" May I speak to an actor? " he said. " I recognize you as Mr. 
Booth. I have never been to the theatre but once in my life, and I 
shall never forget it. It would be such a pleasure to say, when I 
go home to Florida, that I shook the hand of the son of the great 
Booth, who must be, I think, a greater actor than his father." 

" No offense, my young friend," answered Mr. Booth. " What 
did you say your name was ? " 

" Powell. I came to Virginia, sir, to attend a Baptist school, 
and be, like my father, a preacher ; but I like excitement a little, like 
all the boys, and, as I peeped one night into the theatre, and heard 
your grand may I say, sir, your majestic acting ? so, also, I slipped 
off with the money that was to do for me all next term at school 
to see the great John Brown raid. I won t detain you, sir, after I 
have expressed my great appreciation of your acting." 

"Oh, take a drink with us," said Booth; "here is another 
preacher Father Fenwick. He s a Catholic, and you re a Baptist 
and I m paVt Jew. So we can t quarrel." 

The respectable elements of this group soon found each other 
out ; the Baltimore companions of Booth had been so attentive to 
him that their cause of interest was soon manifest : they wanted to 
borrow money to meet their expenses and get out of town. Atze- 
rodt and little Herold struck up a friendship, and went off together ; 
and Mr. Beall, the clerical student Fenwick, and Booth and Quan- 
trell accepted an invitation to visit the prisoners in their cells. 

The prison, on the public corner, seemed a respectable dwelling, 
with an extension of a more sinister appearance on the side street. 
A " reception-room " was within, and the partly open door thereof 


showed a boyish lad leaning upon his elbow at the window, and in 
terrogated by one of several important-seeming men. 

" That is said to be the Democratic Governor of Indiana," spoke 
Beall ; " the boy is that infernal scoundrel Cook, his brother-in-law. 
Gentlemen, they are all abolitionists, or the same family would not 
turn out two kinds of professions." 

Ouantrell saw that Cook s face had the bitterness of death in it. 

" John," the Governor was speaking, " why have you never writ 
ten to your sisters in these two years ? " 

Ashbel, events too exciting had occurred to me. There was 
nothing to write that you, or they, could have felt any sympathy for. 
I had been forced into this cause." 

" John, your parents never brought you up to herd yourself with 

" No, Ashbel, I went to Kansas to practice law. As I crossed 
the prairie with a youthful friend, strange horsemen rode up to us 
and asked us what State we hailed from. New York, replied my 
innocent companion. At that, the challenger shot him dead. I had 
my rifle with me, and, as the cowards rode away, I emptied two 
of their saddles. For that a price was set upon my head, and I was 
hunted down, and I found John Brown s outlawed camp and joined 
his cause. Love came to me in my lonely and dangerous outpost 
at Harper s Ferry ; like you, I have a wife and son." 

He broke down in a sob which touched the Governor s heart. 
He sprang forward and cried : 

" John, I have come to save your life. I will stand by you. But 
you must repudiate these ruffians who seduced you to this busi 

They passed along and entered a comfortable cell. John Brown 
sat at a little table reading his Bible aloud to a man who reclined 
upon a bed. 

The old woods-fighter was in discolored and rag-rent dress, 
having been too consistent to accept other clothes from those who 
lived by the toil of slaves ; his wounds were healing, but his scalp 
was still bandaged up, and his face showed bruises. 

The other man on the bed was a dreadful object, as the balls 
remained in his head and body, and between his gashes the pallid 
streaks of health were like the white stripes in the American flag. 

" Captain Brown," Quantrell said, " here is a young priest who 
takes an interest in you." 


John Brown looked up at Fenwick, while extending his hand to 

" Of what persuasion, sir ? " 

" Roman Catholic. You would not reject my prayers for that, 
Captain Brown ? " 

" No, sir. But do you believe human slavery is right ? " 

" I think so, captain." 

" Then you are a priest of the devil, sir, and need not bestow 
your prayers on me ! Who is this fine-appearing young man ? " 

He turned from Fenwick, and looked up at Booth. 

" That is an actor, the son of the great tragedian, Booth." 

" An actor ? I have never seen a play ; life was too serious and 
engaged with me. I hope, my young friend, that you may act your 
part, if occasion ever calls you to do so, with reference to eternal 
things. In my situation, with but a little while to live, it is my only 
comfort to feel that none of the poor and destitute consider me their 
enemy. Applause I have none ; I am but little understood ; yet 
here " he touched the little Bible " I do not find my condem 

Booth looked down at the old man with a respect which had no 
feeling in it, but he said, in a plausible tone : 

" Captain, give me your autograph. Men like you do not live 
every day." 

There was no paper, and Mr. Beall found a piece of a letter in 
his pocket, which he handed to Booth, and then subsided to his 
pinched brows and chin, and most hopeless face. 

John Brown took up the pen, and slowly, silently wrote : 

" /, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this 
guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as 
I now think, vainly flattered myself that, without very much 
bloodshed, it might be done." 

As the four young men put their heads together to read this 
piece of writing, a resonant voice at the cell-door spoke in a slight 
German accent : 

" Captain, your dinner is ready ! This way, sir ! " 

They all looked up, and there met their gaze a large, black-eyed 
man, with a tray of victuals. 

All looked down again but Quantrell ; he stood, staring at this 
coarsely dressed servant in open-mouthed astonishment. 


" Where ? " he finally spoke, in a low tone. 

The man raised his finger to his lip, and looked at Quantrell 
with the intensest meaning. 

"I know you, surely," Quantrell said, almost breathless; "you 

" Silence ! " whispered the man, with a stately motion, far above 
his roughly marked face and ignoble dress " silence, by your 
mother s spirit ! Let me pass." 

John Brown took this person s arm and hobbled painfully from 
the cell. 

When Quantrell turned again, with a countenance ghastly in its 
wonder, he found Booth and the nearly helpless fellow-prisoner of 
Brown conversing strongly : 

" Spiritualist, are you ? " sounded the voice of Booth. " Well, if 
I had you to do with, I would take you at your word, and, like the 
witches who dealt with spirits of old, I would burn you at a pile of 
fagots ! " 

The man. shot all to pieces, but cool as a red fall apple punct 
ured by the wasps, answered, as well as he could talk : 

" Kind fellow you are ! Now, if I were to meet a bad, black 
eye like yours, going through a woods, I would give you a 
broom ! " 

" A broom ! " said Booth, looking puzzled at Stevens, the dis 
abled captive ; " what would I want with a broom ? " 

" To get a-straddle of it," concluded Stevens, " like the witches 
you ride with, and go to hell ! " 

At these invincible sounds the young priest, Fenwick, crossed 
himself hastily, while Booth and Beall looked down at Stevens with 
strong hate. 

" Keep out of such company, my boy," Stevens remarked to 
Quantrell ; " they have no progress in them." 

" Progress what is that ? " 

. " Heaven is nothing but progress," Stevens said ; " my educa- 
( tion was nothing : don t you suppose heaven will be a school to 
I me ? The spirits of my love will be around my desk ; old angel 
1 friends will teach me music ; I shall read, and know, and progress 
(onward. That s my belief. My sweetheart left it to me when she 
, passed away." 

As they left the jail, Quantrell asked the kind-eyed jailer : 

" Who serves the meals to Captain Brown ? " 



" An old Dutch baker out in the town ; he sends the captain s 
meals in by his people." 

Lloyd Ouantrell was silent. He knew, however, that the person 
with the tray of victuals he had seen in the jail was either Hannah 
Ritner or her ghost. 

He hastened to the baker s house, on a back street ; they knew 
nothing of any person answering to the name, or description, or dis 
guise, of Hannah Ritner. 

Katy s ring was lost again : would she ever find it by " search 
ing for it down a brook " ? 



AT the south end of Charlestown a small limestone brook re 
lieved the sunny situation and watered some Virginia lawns, and 
near its turnpike bridge and ford was a mill and tannery, agreeable 
to the sight and smelt, with the dripping water-wheel and the cord- 
piled bark. Here, wandering together, Ouantrell and his three com 
panions came upon a large wagon, and in it were Luther and Katy 
Bosler, and Nelly Harbaugh. 

Lloyd rushed upon the party, and his later friends were surprised 
to see him not only kiss the slight, childish, large-eyed lass, but also 
kiss her sluggish-eyed, bovine- moving brother. 
" Dear Katy, where did you come from ? " 
Luther answered, as Katy sprang again to Lloyd s arms : 
" Lloyd, we are huckstering a kittle. Te rules is against coming 
to Harper s Ferry from Maryland, so we cross te pridge at Berlin 
and cross te mountain at Keyes s Ferry, and we sell to te soldiers 

" Breaking the laws, bruder ? And you a minister ! " 
" Such laws as Fergeenia has on this occasion," replied Luther, 
dryly, " are te laws of insanity. Tere is no tariff petween te States 
of our Union, and I am an American citizen. If Fergeenia had pet- 
ter laws, John Brown could have stayed at home." . 

" What, sir ! " exclaimed Mr. Beall. " Is this your return for 
Virginia hospitality ? " 

" I am feeding Fergeenia, I think," replied Luther, plainly. " Tere- 



fore, I am not guilty of any inhospitality. What one thinks, he is re 
sponsible to himself and his Maker for." 

"There are things thought," exclaimed Booth, sternly, "which 
are worse than bold crimes." 

"Assuredly," answered Luther, "and that is why I have no tis- 
guises. I do not come here and agree with everypody and pe a 
spy. I say te man who is in te jail, to-day, is truer to justice than 
te judge upon te bench ! Te plood he shed I do not approve of 
put we, Lloyd, haf seen innocent plood shed too. Remember te old 
daddy on te mountain, dying to get to freedom " 

"O Lloyd," cried Katy, "your fader has pought Ashby, and 
we ve prought him to Charlestown ; he s in a Tunker family s house, 
close py ! " 

" And here s a letter from your father, Lloyd," Nelly Harbautrh 
cried, returning a most respectful and admiring look Mr. Booth 
gave her. " We expected to find you, before long." 

As Lloyd read the letter, Booth engaged Nelly Harbaugh in con 
versation, and Hugh Fenwick, the semi-fledged priest, talked, with 
deference, to Katy Bosler ; while Mr. Beall interrogated Luther Bos- 
ler in his intense, unrelieved way, and with a fierceness his low tones 
just concealed. The letter said : 

" My son, I have bought you another slave at your request. I 
present him to you, according to such law as there is for property 
in our fellow-kind. Your own money I keep for you. The cube of 
human bondage is Golgotha. Find that word in your dictionary, 
and don t forget it ! I sincerely hope John Brown will be hanged 
as he is too valuable to live like the prize steer. To spare his life 
would give Virginia another generation to patronize this Union. I 
hear that you are enlisted among the cavalier train-bands ; I ex 
pected as much from you, my son, and I would rather see you walk 
promptly to your place, in the files of slavery and disunion, than to 
remain of an uncertain mind. The quicker every arms-bearing man 
is resolved, the speedier will be the issue. The request I make of 
you is, not to bestow your heart anywhere at .present; and, as for 
your hand, remember that your mother s pride of family was her 
only sin. Your father, ABEL OUANTRELL." 

When Lloyd, with feelings of affection, anger, and distress, folded 
this letter, he was drawn to Luther Bosler s side, and to Mr. Beall, 
browbeating Luther. The words he heard were : 


" I can have you whipped, and drummed across the river, for the 
sentiments you express ! " 

" Do so. Us Tunker brethren are numerous in this valley. They 
have never aroused to the voice of conscience upon this subject. 
Perhaps they might, if you would whip one of their ministers, like a 

Luther s countenance, as he spoke calmly before the pinched, 
pallid, and tortured arrogance of the Anglo-Celt, bore no ill resem 
blance to one of the rougher Christian disciples under the whip- 

" Stop them ! " commanded Nelly Harbaugh to Booth ; " Luther 
is my friend, and shall not be imposed upon by that man." 

"For you I will interfere," answered Booth ; "your friend must 
be a gentleman." 

By the aid of Fen wick, who saw Katy s anxiety, Booth and 
Quantrell appeased the combatants, and they went to see the negro 
Ashby, whose unfortunate arrival had given Quantrell a new subject 
of annoyance. 

He was at a Bunker family s humble house on an unfrequented 
cross-street, and, as they entered, an officer came close after to the 
door, to arrest a negro suspected of having voluntarily given aid to 
John Brown, and borne arms under him, and accused also of invad 
ing the Stale of Virginia to carry off a person held to ceaseless servi 
tude to wit, the author of his own being. The penalty for the first 
of these offenses was death ; of the second, imprisonment for life. 
The negro Ashby, sustained by his religious ecstasy, heard of the 
fate awaiting him with a dignity surprising to Lloyd Quantrell. 

" Mosster," he said to Lloyd, " I m yours, and I don t want you 
to lose the money I m bought with; but I m tired of life. My ole 
mommy died when she heard of daddy s end. I wants to go in de 
cell with Green and Copeland and be hanged, and go to glory ! " 

" He ought to be hanged ! " spoke Beall, with smothered fire of 
indignation. " He confesses to bearing arms." 

" Oh," cried Katy Bosler, " hard man ! He saved my dear Lloyd s 
life. When you come to die, maype a black man s love may pe 
your only friend ! " 

" Mr. Booth," cried Nelly Harbaugh, "you go to the door and 
deceive the constable, while Lloyd gets the negro off. He s worth 
all you paid for him, Lloyd ; and, if he s hanged, the law won t pay 


" You shall be obeyed," answered Booth ; " if the constable per 
sists, I ll throw him out of the house, and my Richmond company 
will stand by me ! " 

Quantrell started with the negro through the back garden, and 
led him by the winding creek to the railway, and on toward the 
north ; and, meantime, Katy Bosler threw herself upon Mr. John 
Beall, and by sighs and entreaties prevailed upon his modesty, until 
Booth came in and reported the officer to have been thrown off the 
scent. Luther Bosler had gone off to attend to his market collec 
tions, and Mr. Booth, seeing Mr. Beall s predicament with Katy, 
claimed a kiss for his good offices also, which Katy called on Nelly 
Harbaugh to bestow. In a little while Beall s sense of Virginia hos 
pitality overcame his severity, and he took a gentle interest in Katy, 
whose merciful nature had also greatly affected " Father " Hugh 

Nelly Harbaugh, with a strong interest in these young worldly 
men, influenced Katy to prevail over Luther and let them both re 
main in Charlestown till his return with another load of provisions. 

Luther s merchant instincts were now fully aroused, in view of 
this unexpected home-market and the calls of his approaching mar 
ried life, and he kissed his affianced good-by and started toward 
Harper s Ferry, with Beall and Booth in his wagon. 

Lloyd and his new slave had walked two or three miles, and then 
they left the railroad near a mill, and continued through the autumn 
fields, Lloyd meditating how to get his dependent across the Poto 
mac into Maryland. They finally came in sight of a peculiarly- 
shaped brick house in a grove of trees, secluded from the sur 
rounding farms, but from its limestone swells could be seen the 
broad gateway of the rivers at Harper s Ferry, as they broke the 
mountain ramparts through. 

" Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to de 
struction," Quantrell said; "and yonder it seems to be." 

" Dis is Walnut Grove, mosster," spoke Ashby, out of his deso 
late meditations, pointing to the house with the blood-red end and 
the cool white piazzas suspended in the middle; "de Bealls lives 

"Who are these Bealls," asked Lloyd "so serious and in 
tense ? " 

" I ve heerd," replied the negro, "dat de first of dem was a ole 
Scotch Covenanter, who come to America after killing a archbishop 


in Scotland wasn t his name Sharp ? He was a-tryin to make de 
Scotch somethin else dan Presbyterians. A few of em caught him 
at a bridge, and dragged him out of his carriage and murdered him. 
So de first Beall run away to de Potomac ; he was one of de red 
Macgregors, dat is called in Merrylin Macgruders. Ever sence dar s 
been on deir faces a white look, an a borrowin of trouble, an ex 
citement about blood." 

Ashby was bestowed in an out-house by a colored domestic 
girl, and, before Lloyd could call out the family, Beall and Booth 
drove up with Luther Bosler. The latter went to feed his horses, 
and Ouantrell and the other two went into the house to partake of 
some liquor. 

" Here is some of grandfather s port wine," Beall said ; " he was 
the grandson of a baronet ; I was his favorite among his daughter s 
children, and he gave me his name, John Yates. To-day I feel 
troubled and excited, and I will try a glass with you, friends." 

" You have behaved like a knight," Booth cried. " Let us drink 
together to some toast with a great purpose in it. What shall it 

"Virginia hospitality," Ouantrell said. "Against his princi 
ples, Mr. Beall helped me in my personal desire to save my negro s 
life, because he had saved my own. I shall never forget it." 

"I accuse myself," said Beall, "of incivility in granting you so 
grudgingly what my natural impulses would have freely given. 
You were right to reward this disobedient servant for your life. 
Gentlemen, I have taken a real affection for you both; but the 
occurrence of this abolition invasion has strangely aroused me. Do 
you know that with all the hate I hold for this man, Brown, I have 
an admiration for him I can not control ? " 

" I admit it, too," Booth cried, unsteadily, for he had been drink 
ing too much. " Monster as he is, I am fascinated by his dramatic 

"It was what we Scotch we Bealls call the bloody or deadly 
foray. When one of these is made against us, we try in vain not 
to revenge it. My blood tingles now to take life for life." 

He spoke with suppressed tones, jerkingly, and not a ray of 
cheerfulness was in his soul. 

" Poor, insulted Virginia ! " Booth exclaimed. " Lloyd, don t you 
feel for John here ? It has bitterly humiliated him. Let us drink 
to this sentiment and swear to it, also we three young men, nearly 


of the same age, devoted, determined, brave ; The South, if trouble 
ever comes upon her, to revenge her; Virginia, if occasion ever 
offers, to invade her invaders ! 

They raised their glasses those three, the two Marylanders and 
the Virginian. Said Quantrell, " My father has written to me, 
Walk promptly to your place, and do not be of an uncertain 
mind. " 

" Drink and swear ! " spoke Booth ; " Sic semper tyrannis ! 
Virginia shall be avenged ! " 

As they drank with strong feeling, Luther Bosler appeared in 
the door. 

" Resolutions taken in wine," he slowly remarked, " had best pe 
carefully considered. Lloyd, I will carry you to the cars at Berlin." 

All present judged it prudent for Quantrell to go, while he could 
get the negro off and be himself unsuspected. 

As he disappeared in Luther s wagon, Mr. Beall said : 

" I think Quantrell is a man of principle. I have seen how 
brave he is. Can he mean to marry that pretty Dutch child ? " 

" If he loves her, it is his own pleasure to consult." 

" But she is quite ignorant ; and that brother of hers is a huck 
stering Hessian." 

" I have known Lloyd Quantrell since his childhood," Booth 
added ; " my father, the tragedian, and my grandfather, who was 
an Englishman, like yours, were both present when Abel Quantrell 
came over from Pennsylvania to be admitted to the bar of my 
native county. They sat up all night at Belair to play cards. 
Years afterward, the father, who is a great man, but a voluptuous 
one, with remarkable power over women, became the idol of a lady 
of both fortune and descent, of one of the best families we have in 
older Maryland, and originally Quakers. Lloyd s father was a Yan 
kee, with some Irish stock in him, making him poet and intriguer as 
well as Puritan ; and that Quaker sweetness often breaks out in 
Lloyd s rough nature. It is said that Abel Quantrell never loved 
either his wife or his son, up to their warmth of affection for him. 
If the old man crosses Lloyd s love-affair, Lloyd may let the girl go, 
for he reveres his father." 

" And break her heart ? " asked Beall. " That won t be right." 

" Why, John, you are very innocent of things of gallantry. Men s 
hearts sometimes break in love ; women have little willful hearts, 
and adapt themselves to situations." 


"We do not believe that of our mothers, said Beall ; * as far as 
we can see, love is the whole of life to them." 

Booth hesitated. 

u You are right, John. But we do not see women at least not 
in my way of livelihood like our mothers.". . . 

Next day Lloyd Quantrell entered his father s house in Balti 
more. It stood in Old Town, as that part of the city to the north 
east was called, across the tumbling Jones s Falls, and as he ap 
proached it he passed the residence of the Booth family in the same 
part of the city a broad, brick dwelling with marble base. 

Quiet and comfort were the expression of this semi-neglected 
part of Baltimore, once the seat of fashion. The dwelling of Abel 
Quantreil had been the town-house of his wife s old colonial family, 
whose frequent relations with politics and finance brought them to 
Baltimore from across the bay, to live a portion of the year, and 
here, dazzled with the eloquence and independent nature of Lloyd s 
father, the heiress naturalized him into Maryland by a marriage, 
but found him half an alien to her heart. 

The same longing with which she died, to have the full and ab 
solute love of her husband, her athletic son had inherited ; and now 
he came hungry to his father s door for a father s love, after all the 
mighty experiences of Harper s Ferry. 

After he had bestowed the slave, Quantrell approached his 
father s library, and heard men s voices within. The first voice 
thrilled him well ; it was that of the new Western senator, Edgar 
Pittson, saying : 

" Depend upon it, they will force their convention early, and con 
tinue the excitement at Charlestown, Virginia, until the Southern 
heart comes all fired with passion to that convention, and they will 
hold it at Charleston in South Carolina. They will there demand a 
Southern presidential candidate as security for slavery, and break 
up the convention rather than take a Western man ; and after having 
left everything in suspense, they will convene again in Baltimore, to 
capture this State by the alternative threat of breaking up the Union. 
Can Maryland be relied upon, Mr. Davis ? " 

" Yes," said a musical yet nervous voice, like a bass-violin s ; 
" although the Native-American cause is gone, it will answer still in 
Maryland to compel the Democracy here to profess a Union spirit. 
This night we show our power in Monument Square. Come, and 
you will see how soiled is the outer fringe of slavery s garment. I 


must use the rowdy to save Baltimore to the Union ; for Baltimore 
is Maryland." 

"Anything, Davis," said the voice of Abel Quantrell. " Sho ! use 
anything to keep the deluge back. The cube of the cut-throat may 
be the military genius, though I doubt it. The square of a riot may 
be a battle for the Union, though I fear not. But you are all there 
is of Maryland until the north star moves over Baltimore, and then 
you may throw off your dark-lantern mask and show the Know- 
nothing to be the Emancipator ! " 

" I am consuming for the hour," said Mr. Davis, in low, deep 
tones ; " I saw no way to keep back the Loco-foco power in Balti 
more but by catering to this Native-American prejudice. The nat 
uralized foreigners always joined the Democracy, and for that I hated 
them. The devil shall have Maryland and me, before we shall be 
Democratic prey ! " 

" I sympathize with you, Mr. Davis," spoke Edgar Pittson ; 
" your virtues are too great to classify you as the Artevelde of all 
these rough guilds and clubs ; but the time is a shifting one, and 
we need all the ground we can get to stand on. We shall nominate 
early, also not later than next May and our candidate, I think, 
will be Lincoln." 

" Oh, no Seward ! " 

" Sho ! " said Abel Quantrell ; " put not your new wine in old 
bottles ; Seward has been too long in honors and office, Henry ; he 
lives too far East. Go to the West, where John Brown lived and 
thought so long and undauntedly, until his old teeth fell out and 
grew up armed boys. The cube of old political success is compro 
mise. We have had one Fillmore. I wish we could run Henry 
Winter Davis or John Brown." 

" Or Abel Quantrell," added Mr. Davis. " Old friend, you have 
been a great comfort to me in my lonely battle here, made under 
my semi-false position. Your son has been my devoted follow 

"My son," spoke Abel Quantrell; "what pride I take in my 
son ! How brave he is how indifferent to the world ; how well he 
honors his father and his mother ! Surely his days shall be long in 
the land which the Lord, the God of Freedom, will yet give to him. 
Oh, let me hear the sounding of his voice, like Isaac waiting for his 
Esau s tones ! " 

" Father, I am safe : God bless you, sir ! " Lloyd Quantrell cried, 


his eyes all blind with tears as he threw himself at his father s 

Abel Ouantrell, moved somewhat by the sudden onset, put his 
hands upon Lloyd s head, mechanically and coldly. 

" The hair is the hair of Esau," he said, " but the voice is the 
voice of Jacob." 



" FATHER, don t treat me so. I have been in great troubles, and 
the hope of seeing you, sir, made me want hard to live. I do want 
to lead a better life, and I have found a pure young woman who has 
promised to be my wife ; and both of us require a father s blessing. 
Give me your heart, father ! " 

" Sho, sho ! " the old man said, looking a little moved at his son ; 
" the square of love is marriage ; and the cube of love and marriage 
is incompatibility. Cube it cube it ! Look into the third produc 
tion, son ! You love : well enough ! You many : desperate step ! 
You live long together : the cube is not one flesh, but wood or 

" I am your son ; there can be no doubt of that," Lloyd spoke, 
looking around at the other witnesses, in wounded pride and chal 

" None, Lloyd," spoke the kind tones of Senator Edgar Pittson ; 
" your father called you his Jacob, the father of all true Israel s race. 
He did not mean to accuse you." 

" If he had called me Esau," faltered the young man, " his words 
would not have seemed so cold. Some way, I can not get father to 
love me, gentlemen. I know I have taken to sad companions " 

" Have I ever rebuked you, my son ? Sho ! " 

" No, sir. Why have you not ? It was a father s privilege ; and, 
had you done so, it would have been a proof of your affection for 
me. I wandered away because you never restrained me. It was 
too plain that you had no interest in me, father." 

" Come, Lloyd ! " spoke Congressman Davis, a little exasperated 
at the son s accusations. " Your father is as just as Heaven s vice 
roy here ; and you know it." 


" I wish he were not so just," the young man sobbed, with one 
long, soul-drawn sob ; " then he might err into loving me, who have 
no mother ! " 

" Dear Lloyd ! " the voice of Mr. Pittson said, with tender emotion* 
in it " to be motherless is the worst. My rugged, gentle brother, 
look out on Nature like your father, and take joy in her ceaseless 
maternities. There are love and grief and separation eveiy where." 

" Oh, if my mother was here now," Lloyd Ouantrell spoke, " she 
would have encouraged me in my first pure affection since she 
died ! " 

" So will I, my son ! " Abel Quantrell reflected aloud, with some 
curious sympathy. " Let me walk leaning upon your shoulder, for 
my old club-foot is numb. Come Edgar, too ; since you young men 
have met, and liked each other so, I ll lean upon you both." 

He stood upon his staff, and threw an arm around the shoulders 
of each, and paced the room to and fro. Henry Winter Davis, with 
his fine intellectual sight and handsome profile, looked up approv 

" I lean on Law and Nature, like Bacon of old," came the sar 
donic voice of the old man out of his lifeless countenance ; " the 
support is all human aspiration can find ; but where, my God ! is 
Liberty ? " 

" Here," answered the young Senator Pittson, whose face was 
like that of Liberty s self upon a silver dollar, not w r arm with color 
but fine with ore " here are three of us, and you can cube yourself ! 
Do not regret, but feel God s providence to be wider than all the 
casualties and refractions of man s nature, and taking every aber 
ration into his illimitable system of systems ! You may have been 
the roving comet, crossing the orbits of the purest stars, or the rash 
meteorite flung upon Pleiades or earth ; and still the scar on you will 
be greater than upon them, while in them the wonder of your falling 
is their incentive to a higher and wiser piety. We know God made 
you in his most subtile alembic, and that the material was better 
than gold ; for we feel philanthropy and resistance to oppression to 
warm your setting sun and flash in the ashes of your lonely hearth 
stone, like the dying prophet s face kindling in the radiance of the 
promised land." 

Lloyd felt so rejoiced at this eloquent tribute to his father that 
he kissed both the speaker and Abel Quantrell. Mr. Davis was also 
showing the sympathy of fellow-genius upon his usually abstracted 


face, to hear the nearly chiseled words of Senator Pittson rising into 
such sculptured forms, yet ardent as life itself. 

" Sho, Lloyd ! " Abel Quantrell cried, " you have learned man- 
kissing among the Dunkers woman-kissing as well, I compute. 
That s where I learned it, too, beneath the Bunker caps. Like 
father, like son ! But you never imitate my better examples, Lloyd. 
I dare say you hate old John Brown, and the torch of insurrection he 

" I hate his cause with all my soul ! I admire his courage. 
Wicked people set him on." 

Abel Quantrell took one hand off Lloyd s shoulder, and, reach 
ing for his stick, leaned only upon that, and upon Mr. Pittson. 

" Edgar," said he, " resent that statement. I expect you to 
do it." 

" No, sir " Mr. Pittson took Lloyd s hand and continued to lead 
him in their chamber excursion " Lloyd spoke with perfect hon 
esty. Remember that your son may have the indignations of his 
birthplace, as you brought here others from the free Green Mount 
ains. The incursion of John Brown was supported by no law what 
ever, except that which he and a few others made out of air. Time 
may excuse him ; fanatical partisanship is preparing to do so now : 
but I am a senator under the law, and can take no part in such a re 
bellion, though it may have started, like Satan s, in heaven ! I do 
not say all were wicked people who advised John Brown, but I do 
say that the calm and legal steps we Republicans were taking, to 
manoeuvre slavery away from its respectable supports, have been 
pestered by John Brown s incursion, so that we are being manoeuvred 
by slavery away from our own strong base, in the outraged conserva 
tism of the country. How will John Brown s raid compensate us 
for the wrongs of Kansas ? At this moment Mason, Davis, Bright, 
and others in the Senate, are preparing for an investigating commit 
tee upon John Brown s self-commissioned and gratuitous act, with 
the purpose of destroying the Republican party." 

" They can t do it," Mr. Davis remarked, rising up. " The more 
stirring up the slavery-Democracy makes, the more Republicans 
there will be." 

" Mr. Davis," spoke Lloyd Quantrell, with modesty yet direct 
ness " often have I listened to your burning speeches with the feel 
ing that you were sincere as truth itself. I never knew that the 
Native-American mask covered a Black Republican ! " 



" Then learn it of me " Mr. Davis turned imperiously on Lloyd 
" that I would rather wear the mask of the devil than lose my hold 
on Maryland, to help the Roger Taney Democracy to power ! Yes, I 
would rather defend old Brown himself, for invading my own late 
home, Virginia, and support Horace Greeley for President here in 

The impetuosity of Mr. Davis s reply showed that he had drunk 
at the well of Abel Ouantrell s deep but boiling temperament. He 
was a Baltimorean in all respects of well-nursed mustache, skin 
where the bright and sallow, the sanguine and bilious contended ; 
aristocratic lines of countenance, a little pointed, perhaps hardened, 
by impulses which had turned to prejudices, and party combats 
which had soured to hate, and by a certain bluntness somewhere 
between volatility and sullenness ; but, when his nature rose, a spirit 
of power and magnificence possessed him like the dark and gold of 
the oriole bird, whose yellow wings of flight flash from a sable 

Time and faculty, resistance and a somewhat false position, had 
muddied the springs of a generous nature, and kept him, with the 
instincts of liberty and refinement, a prince among brawlers, and he 
had come to recognize the omnipotence of events as above all rea 
sonable endeavors to extricate himself from his momentary environ 
ment ; and, therefore, the John Brown raid amused him, if it also 
perplexed him, because, while weaning young followers, like Lloyd 
Quantrell, from his side, it brought the terror of a general insurrec 
tion of the slaves to his political enemies. 

Before Lloyd could excuse himself for rudeness within his father s 
walls, he, like Mr. Davis, was arrested by a strange and aggressive 
attitude of Abel Quantrell, his father, toward Senator Edgar Pittson. 

The old man had concentrated the whole of his satyr-like atten 
tion upon this slender and shining-visaged guest ; his mouth was set 
in the deepest scorn and resolution, and his hollow nostrils seemed 
breaking into articulate speech, so full of expression were they ; 
and his faded eyes caught the dead, black shadow of his wig, and 
looked on Edgar Pittson as the ghost of Samuel from the tomb 
might have scowled on Saul. 

One hand was upon his cane, his back against a table, and with 
the other hollow, almost transparent hand, he seemed holding some 
thing to throw into his visitor s face. 

Mr. Pittson did not return the look of Abel Quantrell with either 


defiance or astonishment, but stood with his head slightly bowed and 
his countenance almost negative, like one receiving a sentence with 
resignation, or, as Lloyd Ouantrell thought, like that passive respect 
with which the young Smiths on the mountains had heard the lect 
ure of John Brown when our hero first made their acquaintance. 

Abel Quantrell slowly lowered his menacing hand and put it into 
his bosom, and, after a moment s waiting, spoke : 

" Do you dare hold those compromising sentiments in my pres 
ence ! you, from the unfettered, unconstraining West, which has 
honored you above your condition, and put the future of liberty and 
of labor in your trust ? " 

The young senator looked up and met that overbearing inquisi 
tion firmly, but without offense. His face had the beauty of a silver 
die, with every lineament fresh from the engraver s stroke : brown 
hair, flowing from a fine forehead to his low-set ears ; beard prema 
turely silvered beneath his jaws, and hanging there in fringes like 
goat s fleece ; mouth of cleanliness and courage, the upper lip almost 
too long, but the chiseled chin pendent to it with more delicacy, and 
in the nose was a faint tendency to match the eagle s beak ; but, 
back of its bridge, the eyes drew far, like archers at the drawbridge 
bending all their strength eyes of that same silver-gray which per 
vaded his complexion, the orbs of public life trained to think while 
shooting, and to have such nice relations with speech and hearing 
that every sense of man seemed in those clear gray eyes alone, placid 
under their brown-furred brows. His head was drawn a little back 
habitually as if receiving knowledge and attack ; and above his slen 
der, spare form, like the greyhound s, this kingly, harmonious head 
inhabited its own firmament : 

" In the monarch Thought s dominion 
It stood there ! " 

" Strange," said Senator Pittson, " that you radicals quarrel 
with every road but your own, which will lead to emancipation ! 
John Brown showed more animosity to me than to any other per 
son, as Lloyd Ouantrell knows. He had taken offense at the lawful 
action of my party, and perhaps at its numbers also ; for some men 
never can be right unless they are hermited and irregular, and there 
they show an incapacity to enjoy the fruits of freedom after those 
fruits are picked, because the people do not sanction agitations ex 
cept for tangible results. The skirmish-line of life is the barbarian 


line ; sometimes your skirmisher can bring on an action, but in that 
action itself he disappears. So will all you uncompromising aboli 
tionists disappear if John Brown shall have brought on a war. Pru 
dent men of the multitude, like Lincoln and Seward, accustomed to 
the training and restraints of legislatures and courts, will be required 
to save your country. Do you understand me now, sir? " 

He turned with a respectful flash of his eyes upon Abel OuantrelL 

" Whom have you stigmatized ? " Abel Ouantrell hissed. 

" None, sir. I left off nicknaming when I became a man." 

" Satan s rebellion ; the wicked people who set Brown on you 
know w r hat persons those stigmas include. You have defamed 

" Not one," Senator Pittson replied ; "none that you can mean, 
by word or thought. But, sir, you must not discharge one set of 
slaves, and create another. I claim for my reason all its responsi 
bility and free course. Giving you honor, as is my duty, I shall in 
all public measures act as if my superior did not stand upon this 
globe ! " 

As the two men faced each other, the moral spirit of the younger 
rising and the physical rage of the older subsiding, both Mr. Davis 
and Lloyd were attracted by a something common to them both, as 
if between them was a place of fascination which could cause them 
to fight, like two duelists crossing an open but secluded spot which 
tempts their professional rivalry to the point of deadly onset. 

" Come," said Mr. Davis, " we must not fall out on mere terms. 
Lloyd, go your way, if you mean to leave my fold, but keep my con 
fidence ! " 

" Father," Lloyd spoke, " how can you treat Mr. Pittson so in 
your own house ? Oh, he has a daughter that is so lovely ! I could 
almost love Light Pittson, father." 

The old man sank into a seat, his late excitement gone. 

" Mr. Pittson, when shall I see Light ? Her face was before me 
in my danger and captivity, and it was a great comfort, too. It did 
not seem like any young lady s face that fluttered my heart ; rather 
that rested me, and looked up to me for guidance." 

" Sho, sho ! " from Abel Quantrell ; " you are on forbidden 
ground ! " 

"No," spoke Mr. Pittson; "come in that spirit, Lloyd, as to 
your child or sister, and Light will find you a blessing." 

That evening Lloyd Quantrell strolled into a liquor-store in Bal 
timore, kept by one Martin, a companionable person from the old 


St. Mary s Peninsula of Maryland, and together they attended the 
great Native- American meeting in Monument Square. Such an out 
pouring of rude yet well-attired and solvent native men later times 
never knew ; it was the apotheosis of the rowdy," that culmination 
of physical spirit and national jealousy on the brink of ideal issues 
and against insoluble foreignisms. 

The cold German, the mettlesome Irishman, had swarmed dur 
ing ten years upon the settled land, and the power of their naturali 
zation was already felt at the ballot-box. It was not in the nature 
of American boys to submit. 

Great cities like New York had passed under the aggressive 
strangers yoke, and Baltimore had been made the citadel of resist 
ance. The mastering soul of slavery partly set this later contest on, 
but courage and patriotism were no less the instincts of the rowdy ; 
his fathers had made a land, strangers were unmaking or remaking, 
and the very Jews of native stock were marching in the " American " 
lines ; the Germans of eighteenth-century descent were deadly ene 
mies of the nineteenth century s German importations ; the latest 
Irishmen had taught fighting, and were getting the worst of it from 
Irishmen s native grandsons. 

Toward the tall white pillar to General Washington the defiant 
and triumphant " Native Americans " moved in lines of sword and 
fire, in clubs, without any other purpose than battle, by fist or 
weapon, by steel or shot. The insignias on their transparent lan 
terns told the purpose and the degree of refinement of the time : 
"The Blood -Tubs," "The Red Necks," "The Pioneers," "The 
Regulators," " The Tigers," " The Ashlands," " The Spartans," 
"The Black Snakes," "The Gladiators," "The Rip-Raps," "The 
Eubolts," "The Plug-Uglies." With battle-axes, and in red shirts 
or grenadier hats, they marched as grim as executioners. 

As these, soldiers in all but discipline, strode past Lloyd Quan- 
trell, many a torch or awl-spear was brandished toward him, and 
the shout raised, " Come, Lloyd ! " " Why ain t you marching, big 
one ? " 

He shook his head, and his heart was cold. 

Finally came his own club, " The Cock Robins," marching from 
curb to curb, in broad lines of perfect form and step, sons of men 
01 superior condition, and as confident of their righteous principles 
as guildsmen in cities ever have been, from Genoa to Ghent ; their 
blazing sulphur and shooting rockets brought Washington s statue. 


on the summit of its candle, out into the prominence of a saint upon 
the Roman altar, and to every lad there he seemed giving them his 
benediction. This excess of light fell suddenly on the broad shoul 
ders and rugged head of the idol of the club, Lloyd Quantrell, rising 
upon his long, straight limbs in sight of them all, the humanization 
of the cock they marched beneath. 

A mighty cheer arose. 

" Hip ! hip ! " from the captain. 

" Hurrah ! " roared the two hundred throats. 

As these loud cheers, repeated thrice, seemed the very onset of 
battle, the young man s heart swelled high, and seemed to him to 
burst. Recollections of a hundred combats and sacrifices, of war 
like friendships and assistances, of courage put to deadly tests, and 
convictions never till now disturbed, brought a feeling like exile and 
apostasy to Lloyd Quantrell s soul ! 

" Come ! come ! fall in ! " the fierce command rang down the 
lines, addressed to him. The flaming column swayed and stopped ; 
the fifes and drums were stilled. 

He waved his arms, so that his elbows might hide his eyes, and, 
while the tears streamed down his cheeks, he called in broken but 
loud and manly tones : 

" No ! never any more old boys ! " 

The latest form of prig may smile at pathos here, unconscious of 
his own father s service in just these associations, the rudest and 
most ingenuous of his life, perhaps, when his country was no more 
to be reasoned about and sublimated than his sweetheart or his 
mother, but its profanation by skeptical philosopher or foreign sav 
age, alike, brought down the swift clinched hand, and armed young 
organizations, like the call in the Marseillaise song. 

" What ! \vhat do you say ? " hoarse, excited words broke from 
the ranks. : . 

" I say, No ! No Henry Winter Davis ! No John Brown abo 
litionists for me ! " 

The lines were broken ; the clubsmen rushed upon their refract 
ory member and seized him with rude affection ; a torch was forced 
into his hand, and he was pushed into the ranks. 

Amid a wild huzza the music and the march started up, and be 
fore Quantrell could dry his eyes or find an initial point of rebellion, 
he was in front of the great square base of the monument ; and 
when he looked up to see Washington at the summit, resigning his 


commission at Annapolis, he saw his father, Abel Ouantrell, cutting 
off the view, and introducing Henry Winter Davis as " the Samuel 
Chase of Maryland to-day ! " 

The orator stood forth in the August of life, barely turned his 
forty-second year, and pride and preoccupation worked together in 
his countenance till it seemed to have caught the Voltaire-like mis 
chief of old Ouantrell s wigged and upholstered face, as the latter 
leaned near, like a statue in wax, with his bloodless palm in his shirt- 
bosom. The Governor of Maryland, Mr. Hicks, of the Eastern 
Shore, stood wonderingly by ; the Mayor of Baltimore, Mr. Swann, 
a Virginian by birth, looked on approvingly ; the senator from Mary 
land, Mr. Kennedy, educated in that Virginia town where John 
Brown now lay in jail, presided at the meeting. Over their heads 
was suspended a shoemaker s awl as long as a sword. 

The awl was the favorite symbol of the monster meeting. Near 
by was a blacksmith s forge upon a wagon, hammering out awls ; 
transparencies bore signs like " Third Ward awl right " ; " Seventh 
Ward the awl is useful in the hand of an artist " ; " Eleventh Ward 
the votes awl counted." . 

What was this awl, the peaceful tool of the cobbler, doing at this 
fierce political meeting? 

It was the stealthy and convenient weapon to punch intrusive 
foreigners with, as they crowded upon the polling-places ; and by 
that instrument, here publicly recognized in the presence of Gov 
ernor, mayor, senator, and congressman, the city of Baltimore had 
been governed several years. The slavery question had broken up 
the old national Whig party, and out of its ruins an irresolute local 
majority had turned their fury upon the foreign opposition. 

Mr. Davis addressed himself to the connection between the Gov 
ernor of Virginia and the foreigners ; for that Governor had checked 
Native-Americanism by his election, raising the slavery question to 
the fore-front. A man no less dogmatic had put the slavery ques 
tion under his nose at the point of a pike. 

" Pikes and awls, Lloyd ! " spoke the liquor-dealer, Martin, at 
Ouantrell s elbow. " Won t it be guns next ? " 

" The awl must make shoes for soldiers soon, I fear," Quantrell 

Never had Mr. Davis spoken as he did that night, his seat in 
Congress being at issue, and the accusation of covert abolitionism 
already raised against him. He denounced the opposite party as 



" hoping to retain power by the fears of one half the people for the 
existence of slavery, and of the other half for the existence of the 
Union. . . . False to their mission," said he, " as the portress of hell 
to hers, and ready for the purpose of retaining their hold on power 
to let loose on this blessed land the Satan of demoniacal passion ! 
... I am stronger in my district," he exclaimed, "and in the State 
of Maryland, in any appeal I may see fit to make to the people, than 
all the banded power of the Legislature bound into one man." 

Robust, scornful, fierce, magnificent, his oratory and temper 
were the exact mirror of the meeting he addressed, and proved the 
dangerous power of the public platform or " stump " to educate, 
crowds. Had he ordered those men to demolish any public or pri 
vate building, they would have done so after a few sentences from 
Henry Winter Davis ; and yet this man, in what he was truly aim 
ing at, was as lonely before those masses as Galileo with his con 
victions of science before the superstitious priests. He could abuse 
his enemies, but never advocate freedom and opportunity for black 

It was this sense of moral impotence in Baltimore which made 
his sentences fall like the lash of flagellation upon himself; and, 
when he had done, he looked at the electrified thousands as if he 
would like to kick them out of his sight, and nothing delighted them 
like that expression. 

As Lloyd Quantrell, with his sensibilities all disturbed and his 
enthusiasm frozen, passed along that night into the Old Town quar 
ter, a man addressed him in a foreign accent : 

" I do not beg. I give you zis ring." 

A priestly-looking man, in shabby priestly dress, was speaking. 
A little ring was on his finger, and he held it under a street-lamp, 
continuing : 

" I tell you why I do zis : I starve for bread." 

" Foreigner ! " thought Quantrell, his Native- American repulsions 
not all gone. " Why do you come here, friend, to live on us ? " 

" I came for justeece," exclaimed the man ; " I want justeece for 
my mothair ; my fathair s name for me ! " 

The man s black eyes shone ; his face was thin and haggard. 
He pressed the little ring into Quantrell s hand. 

" Only two dollair, he said ; " not to sell it you, but to borrow 
on it. I know you, sare ; you live there." 

He pointed to Abel Quantrell s house. 



"Let s see," said Lloyd; "two dollars. I have only got one, 
but I can borrow another here, for I see June Booth at the win 

He stood opposite Booth s residence, and at the open window 
thereof sat the very likeness of the noted dead tragedian, smoking 
a cigar. As he stepped toward this person, the stranger cried : 

" No, no ! Not one cent from there ! Nevair ! " 

He was gone, with Lloyd s dollar in his hand, and the ring left 
in Lloyd s palm. 

As Quantrell looked at the ring that night, he found the letters 
chased within it : 




HAVING sent his new slave Ashby out of harm s way, to be the 
foreman of his other slaves in the lower Potomac country forward 
ing him thither, with Katy s dog Fritz, through Lloyd s man-dealing 
uncle Quantrell returned to Charlestown and witnessed the conclu 
sion of John Brown s small, wide-surging act. Nothing had hap 
pened in the history of English America to produce the same pro 
found impression, except the defeat of Braddock and the treason of 
Arnold ; and John Brown s work had the mystery and subtlety of 
the last and was followed by the panic of the first. 

The magnitude of slavery s interest hardly less than four thou 
sand million dollars the sophistical statesmanship and political 
economy created about it, which involved the ridicule and self-re 
spect of leaders long self-deluded ; the peace and safety of white 
society, and the patriotism of compromises, this beggar-man had 
treated as common obstructions and idolatries, like some captain of 
Mohammed bursting into an old religion and state, cimeter in hand. 

Beggar he was, by all the evidence, having begged from town to 
town the few dollars for his expedition, and procured his arms by a 
misapprehension almost like deceit ; with neither scrip nor raiment 
for his intrepid journey, no change of clothes, no provision for his 
needy family in the cold mountains of New York on winter s brink ; 


and recruiting chiefly from the children of his loins, and holding 
none of them to be better than any vagrant negro in his command. 

Lloyd Ouantrell had followed John Brown so closely that he, 
almost alone, with his Vermont father s business eye, discerned the 
reality of this naked martyr. 

His friends, Booth and Beall, adopted the current view that a 
great conspiracy existed, of which Brown s band was only the cou 
rageous tail, and therefore they held the North responsible for a pri 
vate deed. 

Quantrell saw in John Brown s lonely act the isolation and ex 
posure of slavery, which could incite the poor Northern whites 
against it those who, possessing the vote-power, would compel the 
Northern rich to follow them speedily ; he began dimly to discern 
the meaning of the distant Kansas contest wage-labor against 
forced labor he saw that his father s work was bearing seed, and 
that abolitionists \vere no longer the philosophers and the idealists 
only, but the simple, the deadly farmers of the North and West. 

He resigned himself to the universal fear, and resolved, for his 
property, his prejudices, and his indignation, to act with that Demo 
cratic party he had so long hated, and to proselytize for it among 
his Native-American friends. 

He felt the clearer to do this because his father had written : " I 
expected as much of you, my son ; and I would rather see you walk 
promptly to your place in the files of slavery and disunion than to 
remain of an uncertain mind." 

" Dear father! " Lloyd thought, " nothing he has ever said to me 
seemed so warm with compliment ! We can differ and respect each 
other more." 

Then there came the kind desire of his father, added to the same 
letter, with the confidence of a chivalric opponent : 

" The request I make of you is not to bestow your heart, and, 
for your hand, remember your mother s pride of family." 

No other command had Abel Ouantrell ever laid upon his son, 
who had many a time longed for a father s warm commands. 

While other sons had chafed under parental restriction, this son, 
deeply affectionate and consciously his father s mental inferior, had 
pined for obligations and for the love which imposes them upon a 

The first command his father had given him, in proud respect 
had been to go to battle for his convictions. 



The next a request so kind that his tears came to read it twice 
was the great old father s desire that Lloyd should withhold his 
heart and hand. 

" My heart," cried Lloyd in the depths of his soul, " is gone be 
yond my reach. Can I give my hand to Katy and break my dear 
old father s sole injunction ? No, I must wait. I will not disobey 
him. He asks me, too, in my dead mother s name ! " 

This conclusion was enjoined on him by another parental confi 
dence : his father had named to him the lady of his choice. 

The disturbance effected by John Brown s raid in the old settled 
lines and communities near by, hardly the local scandal-monger could 
enumerate or follow. It created an imperial theme where, for a hun 
dred years, the torpor of slavery and the milking of cows had blended 
with each other s patriarchal thoughts, as when the herds and herd- 
men of Lot and Abraham once looked up and saw rising from the 
plain of Jordan the alluring mirage of the sinful cities of the plain. 

New, willful people came and camped by the Shenandoah. The 
girls saw finer and bolder men than had filled the measure of their 
ambition. Soldier-clothes invaded homes of piety and humility, and, 
while the women yielded to the trance of idleness and compliment, 
their fathers and brothers grew fuddled with strangers, and heard 
new doctrines of morals and disloyalty. 

What a temptation for Nelly Harbaugh when she found her so 
ciety desired by the actor Booth ! 

Luther had arranged with Nelly to baptize her into his church, 
and his loving mastership had already begun to soothe her soul to 
peace, when here appeared a wiser admirer yet, all eloquent with 
youth, beauty, and worldliness. 

By Luther s sunburned and unshaved face and rough Dunker 
cloth the form and countenance of Booth seemed like a prince s in 
military uniform beside some giant peasant-recruit of his hereditary 

The large, tender eyes of- Luther were worth all Mr. Booth s re 
finements, but too often of late they had worn the dull coin light of 
avarice. He had seen a great, neighboring opportunity to make 
money, and his heavy Bavarian-French nature had kindled to it like 
his military forefathers to the stranger s loot. 

" Miss Nelly," spoke Booth, as he was giving the girls a supper 
at the principal hotel, with ale and wine among its fall birds and new 
venison, " do you think I would go away to make five dollars a load 



huckstering, and leave for a single day a noble face like this, fit for 
Queen Semiramis ? No, I would be too proud and jealous ! " 

" Hush ! " said Nelly, as Booth looked with all his serious and 
insinuating interest into her face. " Not one word against my lover. 
You do not know how hard it is to make five dollars." 

" Tell me," said Booth ; " I feel such an interest in you. It is 
the interest I would feel in a noble treasure hidden for years in the 
mountains ! " 

" It took me," Nelly answered, with a cold blush of modesty, 
like one at last looked down, " six whole months to make five dol 
lars, when I wanted it to buy a pair of shoes ! " 

" Oh, shame ! " said Booth ; "and I was making my three dollars 
a day as second walking-gentleman ! " 

" Your father left you that rich chance ; I have heard of him. 
But I could only make thirty cents a day, and could only find work 
at seeding and harvest, hardly four weeks in all ; and rain, or too 
many laborers, or woman s ailing, would throw me out a day here 
and a day there, so it was winter before I had my shoes." 

" And dress becomes you so wonderfully ! I have paid much at 
tention to dress for ladies. Nelly, I could make you the sensation 
of Richmond or Washington yes, of Baltimore ! " 

As his eye roved over her fine throat and commanding profile, 
her abundant length of hair and length of trunk, Booth clasped his 
hands and seemed to tremble. 

" You actor ! " Nelly spoke low, with her eye on tender Katy, to 
whom Mr. Fenwick was modestly attentive " I am not to be car 
ried off my feet by your artful praise, for in my own land and station 
I have been courted by many." 

" Let me see your native region," Booth appealed ; " I hear it is 
not far from here. Though you are engaged, and to a real good 
fellow, who will take all the care of you he knows, perhaps I may 
find your counterpart in the Catoctin Valley, and not go away all 
broken up. What lovers have you had ? You almost tempt me to 
turn farmer." 

" I have had all the poor young men around to come to see me 
and propose ; nearly all the widowers of a marriageable turn ; sev 
eral mechanics ; a preacher out of nearly every sect. The mer 
chants drummers from the city generally want to run away with 
me. More than one married man has offered to be divorced to 
get me." 



"And temptations often?" Booth spoke, with the gentlest re 

" No ; insults, but no temptations. I always knew my value ; I 
know it now, sir ! " 

She turned to her admirer with the reserve and bodily self-respect 
of a greater person than one in a half-cotton print. He did not 
flinch, however, but distended his eyes in the greater rapture, slowly 
saying : 

" No woman on the American stage can do that ! " 

" What ? " 

" Give the expression to language that you can do, Miss Har- 
baugh. There is a fortune for you, and a world-wide fame as an 
actress ! " 

" Oh, do not tell me that ! " the woman said, fighting down an 
other rapture in her own face "do not be a devil to me ! I tell 
you, sir, nothing can separate me from that child s brother, to whom 
I am engaged ! " 

She pointed to Katy Bosler. 

" I know it," said Mr. Booth, with a shadow of deep regret ; 
"not even your duty to the talents which nature gave you for a 
mighty life ! " 

Katy, no prude in the joy of her new love, readily yielded to the 
invitation of the two young men to visit her home, in which her pride 
and hospitality were innocently excited ; and Lloyd s absence she 
did not weigh in her duty to his friends. Mr. Booth obtained two 
buggies through Mr. Beall s good offices, who had been much taken 
with Katy s goodness and beauty ; Hugh Fenwick driving Katy, and 
John Booth driving Nelly, they left Charlestown the day Quantrell 
spent in Baltimore. 

Eight miles to Harper s Ferry and eight to Crampton s Gap let 
them down over the mountain rim into the brown and gold bowl of 
Catoctin Valley ; and, as they moved toward Jake Bosler s farm in 
the exhilarating air and restful sceneries, the young priest-student 
spoke to Katy of religious life, and love made benevolent to human 

" Are you, too, of te old Dutch like us, Mr. Fenwick ? " 

" Say Father Fenwick it s more agreeable to me from you, 
Katy; you are so like a dear child. If you can t say that, say 
Hugh ; for I must be either your spiritual or your familiar friend, 
and Mister is neither." 


" Oh, then, I ll say Father Fenwick. Tell me about marrying 
people and about wedding-rings." 

" Dear Kate ! marriage never was sanctified till after Luther s 

He crossed himself, speaking of Luther, and Katy cried : 

" Luter dead ! Our Luter ? " 

" Martin Luther, the apostate, Katy." 

" Oh, I guess I didn t know him, Father Fenwick." 

" Marriage was first celebrated in the church by Innocent III, 
having been a mere civil contract before that ; but the Council of 
Trent, meeting while Friar Luther" crossing himself again 
" passed to his flames, ordered and fixed it fast." 

" Oh, it did ? " observed Katy ; " I m glad of that." 

" Then, my child, marriage was made one of the seven sacra 
ments, conferring grace, and forbidden to clerics ; and all clandestine 
marriage, also, was forbid." 

" Seven sacraments ? " observed Katy ; " not all at once, I hope ! 
Not wine seven times of a Sunday ? " 

" No, little Pope Innocent ; marriage was then taken into the 
church, like the dove taken back into the ark, and made one of seven 
holy things, like Penance and Holy Order." 

" I learned a little penance at school one winter," thoughtfully 
added Katy ; " but our Luter he s a penmans that s wonderful ! 
Luter can shade letters like a sign-painter. Gracious ! don t you 
squeeze me that-a way ! " 

" Kate, you are such virgin mold and mind, I would like to 
educate you. No flower transplanted would grow more nobly. 
Oh, if I had you at old Saint Thomas s Manor, far down the Po 
tomac, I at the Jesuits old palace there and you in the pretty 
school right by, my studies would be relaxed by the care of your 
education, and, like the Carmelite sisters who lie buried in the gar 
den, I could lean above you, my sweet sister, and guide your soul 
and mind ! " 

" Eferypody wants to make a nun of me, Father Fenwick ; Job 
Snowberger is crazy for me to come to Snow Hill, and you want me 
to go to Saint Thomas s ; but I want to marry Lloyd." 

The broad-chested, fresh-skinned, hale young novitiate looked 
at Katy pityingly : 

" We are forbidden to interfere in courtships, but Lloyd, my 
Katy, is dreadfully robust for your gentle nature ! I grant his open 



temper, but are you a being prepared for him, to wear with him in 
the long round of life ? " 

" Oh, maype I can learn some time, Father Fenwick ! Maype 
you might help me. My gracious ! tere is a horseshoe m te road." 

Before Hugh Fenwick could stop, Kate was over the buggy- 
wheel and back again with the cast shoe. 

" Hoofeisa! That s good luck always," she cried, "and now, 
maype, I ll find my wedding-ring." 

A growl and loud bark came from under the buggy-seat, and 
the pointer-dog Albion burst from under Katy s gown and jumped 
into the road and ran after Mr. Booth s carriage, into which Nelly 
Harbaugh had him taken. 

Hugh Fenwick now displayed his prying scholarship on the sub 
ject of finger-rings, mixing his traditions and science superstitiously, 
like the young Jesuit he would be. 

" The ring, my mountain flower, is in our church fidei sacra- 
mentum, the badge of fidelity. Levinus Leminus held, and so did 
Gellius, a holy philosopher, that an artery or vital nerve stretched 
from the ring-finger to the heart." 

" My heart s empty," sobbed Katy, "ever since I took it off." 

" That was a grave error, little penitent ; many married women 
will never remove their betrothal ring even to wash their hands. In 
Spain the giving of a ring is a legal claim to a husband in her who 
can show the ring. The Holy Father wears the fisherman s ring, 
and seals his letters with it." 

" Yes," cried Katy, " and a wedding-ring cures fits and a sty on 
the eye, and fetches up girls out of a swoon. No girl without a 
ring-finger, to put te ring on, can marry safe. Te fortune-teller told 
me I should lose my ring, and then she took it from me herself. I 
can only find it py te Bible now, and I must find te Bible in a water- 
brook where there never was any books, Father Fenwick." 

Katy s head leaned convulsively upon the gentle divinity student, 
who told her of the solemn beauty of his church s ceremony, the 
priest in rich pontificals, the clerks in surplices carrying the holy- 
water pot, the basin, and the sprinkler to bless the golden marriage- 

" Ego conjungo vos in matrtmonium. Our help is in the name 
of the Lord. Lord bless this ring, which we bless in thy name, that 
she who shall wear it, keeping true faith unto her spouse, may abide 
in thy peace and will ! " 


Hugh Fenwick made of a silver ring he wore a circle around 
Katy s finger as he pronounced this copy of the ceremony, and, 
blessing it with his finger, he kissed the bruised little hand and then 
the lips of Katy, trembling himself. 

The pious nature of the child was swayed to the strange, strong 
words, and, seeking about her for additional help, she found the 
horseshoe at her feet, and held it above both their heads. 

" Father Hugh, you ll marry me to Lloyd, won t you, if nobody 
else will ? " 

Katy clung to him in the emotions of fierce will and fear alike. 
He felt her large, swimming eyes shine in on him with power. 

" Why me, Katy? I am a Roman Catholic a Jesuit to be and 
not of your mountain sects." 

Lloyd is a Catholic. I will pe what he wants me. I m no- 
pody, and God gif him to me. Oh, promise me you will pe our 
friend ! " 

He hesitated as the carriage stopped at Jake Hosier s gate. 

" Ha, Fenwick ! What s this a conquest? " 

It was Booth who spoke, seeing Katy with her arm around 
Fenwick s neck. 

" Promise me ! " cried Katy, indifferent to who looked on. " I 
will not let you go." 

" Yes, yes ; if it ever becomes my duty I will be your ghostly 

Luther Bosler and his father had just come in from the field, 
and Luther s wagon was loaded for another huckstering trip to 
Charlestown. Nelly Harbaugh saw that her affianced was worn 
and haggard with his double labors, and she took him in her long, 
strong arms with real affection, sharpened by almost maternal com 

" My poor, willing slave, are you laboring so hard for me ? I 
am not worthy of it, darling. But I have thought of you with a 
full heart. Oh, I love you so painfully, so fearfully, so selfishly ! " 

Fenwick and Booth looked on with surprise at the exhibition of 
devotion and tears from this late worldly beauty of the country, and 
Booth said to Fenwick, so that Nelly heard him : 

" Every attitude she takes shows the natural artist." 

" Well it may, sir," cried Nelly, turning on Booth, with tears like 
rage as well as pity, in her telling eyes ; " if Nature ever taught me 
well, it was to love this man ! " 


She threw her arms around him again, and, standing almost to 
his own height, kissed him and still wept. 

" Dearest," Luther said, tenderly, "why do you cry? We have 
not parted many hours, but in an hour more I must go away again. 
Tere is money to be made, and Decemper is almost here, when we 
will pecome man and wife." 

" December ? Oh, my love, my teacher, it is too far away ! I 
am afraid something will happen. We are not what we were in 
peace and content, before all these strangers came." 

" Not what we were, Nelly ? Revolutions could not alter me 
when I have started out. Tisturbance is love s mutuality, driving 
us together, like when te Indians infaded our Dutch forefathers, and 
te women and men tefended each other. This revolution is for our 
good. Men will see te danger of slavery, and times will grow better 
when it is gone." 

" Who wants to go ? " pleaded Nelly Harbaugh. " I have been 
a slave, too, working in the corn-fields among the men. It was my 
joy and independence, and I would be your slave, also, for all the 
hard and steady life of the farmer s wife. But do not leave me so 
much ! Do not love money more than you love me ! Take me to 
Virginia with you to-day ! " 

" What, Nelly ! Are you so impulsive ? I thought you was keen 
and worldly. Time prings good discipline. Waiting is surely not hard 
for genuine love. Here are visitors, and we owe tern hospitality." 

He indicated Booth, who was looking critically on, and the dog 
Albion snapped at Nelly s feet like another mentor. Jake Bosler 
remarked, vaguely : 

" Eferyting coom right, maype. Bi m-by. " 

Booth spoke to Luther with manly equality, just cordial and no 
more ; but to Luther s father he was attentive and respectful, and 
he soon became the attractive personage of the farm. Hugh Fen- 
wick hung the horseshoe over the dove s nest, and heard the doves 
" coo-roo," and remarked that the young doves were big enough 
to fly. 

While Nelly and Katy went to make some special dessert dishes 
for the distinguished guests, Mr. Booth challenged Luther and Fen- 
wick to gymnastic feats upon the lawn at the tree where the doves 

He bared his arms, and the white muscles there seemed like 
blue-veined marble, and each great globe of sinews swelled like a 


human brain, as if the thinking culture of this young gladiator was 
in his arms, and not within his skull. 

He raised himself upon the limb of the apple-tree, and, by alter 
nate arms, singly, until his chin was higher than the bough ; and he 
vaulted over a stone wall by one hand and wrist without running, 
and raised a grindstone to the level of his shoulders, none of the 
others being able to do the same ; and he also outleaped them both 
upon the level and so Nelly Harbaugh found him, with coat off and 
sleeves rolled up, the hair black and strong upon his arms and 
breast-bone, so that it might almost have been combed, and his 
knees slightly bowed, though not sufficient to affect his erect, com 
pact stature. 

" Why, sir," cried Nelly Harbaugh, " you are training for the 
circus, and not for the theatre." 

" O Queen Nelly ! I am training in the athletic school, like my 
father. He and Kean drove classical acting off by the splendor of 
their combats, dying all slashed to pieces and with broken blades, 
but fencing yet with hand and foot and tooth and nail." 

For the first time at Bosler s farm the girls were taken into din 
ner, society-fashion, on the arms of Booth and Fenwick, to the 
blushing confusion of these twain ; and Nelly and Katy saw with 
curiosity the strangers eating nimbly with their forks. Katy had 
always been told that it was politeness to eat with the back of her 
knife, instead of with the blade to the mouth, as Jake Bosler did. 
Jake, however, took no note of methods, except the method of the 
clock and of the sun-dial ; and, passing up his plate for animal fuel, 
whereby to plow and sow, uttered the suggestion 

" Bi m-by." 

Fenwick asked the blessing at Luther s request, sectarianism 
being only superficial in this region, and the girls watched the intel 
lectual play between the young men the Jesuit, the Protestant 
pietist, and the Oriental-looking type of Booth, where may have 
been a distant trace of Jew. Luther and Booth were seeking to 
draw each other out, and Fenwick was the moderator between 
them too prone to agree with both, as if some moral weakness re 
mained in the fixed intentions of his clerical career. 

Luther, on the whole, furnished the strong meat of the discourse, 
unsuspecting of Mr. Booth s persuasive line of inquiry. 

" You think, then, friend Luther, that John Brown was not alto 
gether inexcusable ? " 


"Not excusable; for in our faith, no man can do war and pe 
right, neither offering nor resenting violence. We submit, consid 
ering oppression the least of evils. But few do submit on princi 
ple, like us, and in human nature John Brown was te least selfish 
of soldiers. He had no interests at stake, no chance ; nothing but 
te moral example of his failure and tespair." 

" A strait-jacket and lifetime in the lunatic asylum would suit 
him ! " suggested Booth. 

" He is too proud to take that refuge," Luther said. " He re 
sented it when te Ohio lawyers came to his help. That would be 
the meanest of all, and Governor Wise is too honoraple a man" to 
put a sound head like John Brown s among te maniacs. Te Scribes 
and Pharisees in their spite nefer offered to treat Jesus so." 

Hugh Fenwick was prompt to make the pious sign, and he ex 
claimed : 

" Compare John Brown to Jesus ? " 

" But for Jesus no man would be in John Brown s shoes now, 
saying over te words : Take no thought for your life ; for te mor 
row shall take thought for te things of itself, and sufficient unto te 
day is te evil thereof. " 

"Oh," said Fenwick, "authority, not caprice, must order these 
things Washington or Rome ! " 

" But tey never do. King George nefer ordered General Wash 
ington. Te authority that counts te sparrow s fall said also, Be 
ware of men, for tey will deliver you up to te councils, and ye shall 
pe prought pefore governors and kings for My sake. " 

" O Luther," Nelly Harbaugh sighed, "why don t you choose 
a public life ? It is so comforting to hear you talk." 

" Indeed it is," said Mr. Booth ; " he s up in the lines, too ! But, 
Luther, wasn t it great conceit for Captain Brown to take this stu 
pendous task upon himself ? " 

" Ah ! " exclaimed Fenwick, " the Puritan never goes to a con 
fessor to assure his intentions. He is a secretive, treacherous 
mover ! " 

" Whoever does anything original is conceited, te dull and en 
vious think. Columpus had no pusiness to find te New World. 
John Brown had no pusiness to cut at this tumor in our society. I 
haf been accused in our Tunker body of te conceit that I could 
preach, pecause I haf been elected. Only te greatest kind of man 
sees te universal, daily necessity , what eferypody else ought to have 


seen, but nefer did see steam to save toil, lightning to save time, 
liberty to save sorrow. I wonder at John Brown, but te great con 
ceit was his. These mountains will not hold his name ! " 

" Soon-down Bi m-by ! " Jake Bosler spoke, rising and kissing 
Katy welcome home. 

" Wait ! " said Mr. Booth ; " let me give you a recitation, Luther, 
before you leave us." 

As Booth arose, the doves beyond the windows rose also, from 
the crotches in the apple-tree, and took their migration to the South. 

Mr. Booth repeated Hood s " Bridge of Sighs," standing at his 
place in the plain low room, with its cheap paint-grained cupboards 
and white plaster ; and first he explained that it was the story of a 
poor girl abandoned by her lover, and found self-drowned in the 
muddy river. 

Bending over the table, as over the drowned one, with his man 
ful manner and serious white face, the actor delivered this, his favor 
ite recitation, with a fervor and pathos that drew tears and sobs 
from Katy ; and, between the stanzas, Jake Bosler could be heard 
to whinny, and to say, with reference either to temporal or everlast 
ing things, and perhaps both : 

" Temmerlich ! " (pitiful). " Bi m-by ! Bi m-by ! " 

Luther Bosler listened with a drop of dew in his eyes, like cloudy 
amethyst, and still kept his judgment upon the words ; and Nelly 
Harbaugh came around and leaned on him, watching Booth with 
colder emotion : 

" Fashioned so slenderly, young and so fair ! " the victim of love 
and trust betrayed was raised in dumb show by the actor, and all 
her mutiny and disobedience, her dripping clothes like cerements, 
and water-oozing lips, her past dishonor and her residue of what 
was " pure womanly," he revealed with delicate and tender respect. 

Then, bending over his plate, Mr. Booth asked in intelligent 
wonderment, solicitously : 

" Where was her home ? 
Who was her father ? 
Who was her mother ? 
Had she a sister ? 
Had she a brother ? 
Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer one 
Yet, than all other ? " 


Nobly modulated, punctuated by his black-eyed glances, every 
pain of meaning opened wide like a wound held open till it could 
bleed, the poetry stuck in every throat but Booth s, who next de 
scended into speculations not less pathetic, because analyzing to the 
very nerves and household chords the causes of the outcast s sui 
cide. Her 

" Feelings had changed 

Love, by harsh evidence, 

Thrown from its eminence ; 

Even God s providence 

Seeming estranged. 

She stood with amazement, 
Houseless by night 

Swift to be hurled 
Anywhere, anywhere 
Out of the world ! " 

Here, rising to a wail, with eyes of simulated despair and arms de 
scribing the fateful leap from the bridge s parapet, Booth saw Nelly 
Harbaugh, without a tear in her eyes, gazing at him in rapture. He 
knew that there was no art of betraying woman like reciting with 
sympathy woman s betrayal, but this fine peasant-girl s eyes showed 
none but intellectual sympathy with his effort, and the passion to 
enact like him. 

He changed his tactics and assumed the more heroic form of 
recitation, giving his robust voice and chest their volume and power ; 
but the sense in her warm, blue eyes soon reproved this exuber 
ance, and with astonishment, amid his corrected cadences, Booth 
discerned in this cool auditor a capable and unexcited critic, not to 
be affected by his sentiment, but only through her own ambition. 
She rose in his respect the more, though now he saw the route to 
her weakness. 

" Yaw, Katy, take her sinds to her Saviour, hera Heilond! 
Bi m-by ! " Jake Bosler sobbed at the conclusion, drawing his little 
daughter to his breast. 

" Fader, she was dead in te water-brook ! " Katy cried, kissing 

" Yaw, my child. Proke her old daudy s heart for some young 
city man s," Jake sighed, " and couldn t look her fader in te face. 


Dat s te way with some girls up dis-a-way. Te leeb, te courtin, is 
everyting, till Bi m-by." 

" This is a gift of God, right used," Luther Bosler said to Mr. 
Booth, as he took his whip in hand and the team came to the door ; 
" but te tears we pring by eloquence must not pe idle tears ; for 
tears should come from deep, pure places, Mr. Booth. As I go 
around among te Tunkers to pray at pedsides, where te old ones 
die and te pabes are born, I feel what loads of sorrow make one 
tear. Nelly, you shall see it for yourself when we are both be 
lievers ! " 

He kissed his affianced devoutly ; but Booth saw that something 
had broken Luther s spell over her, and she said : 

" Luther, may I have your buggy ? Mr. Booth has a foolish de 
sire to see my home." 

" Oh, surely," Luther answered, hospitably ; " anything here, 
friends, is yours. Pe welcome ! " 

As Luther Bosler drove southward that afternoon, he crossed 
the great blue mountain at the old Sharpsburg hauling-road, at 
which the backbone was depressed, and left Turner s Gap above a 
mile to his right, where the National road found an almost hidden 
clove to go through. In the wild brush and pine-grown gullies of 
the former deserted way he suddenly came upon two women riding 
easy-racking mares. 

" Whoa ! " cried Luther, pulling his four horses in. " I think I 
know you, madam. What have you done with my sister Katy s en 
gagement-ring ? " 

His unerring country eye had seen, through her Dunker hood 
and smock-frock, the stature of Hannah Ritner. 

" Ah, Luther ! " she spoke, with frank and strong articulation. 
" Come here, Light, and see my young Dunker pastor ! Is he not 
a handsome bachelor? " 

" A Dunker pastor ! And so fine-looking, too ! Perpetual ro 
mance, Hannah, your beautiful mountains hold ! " 

Luther looked up into a beautiful, sincere, attractive child-wom 
an s face. He did not remove his hat, but wondered what such a 
lady, in plain, long riding-dress, was riding through these lonely 
ways for. 

" You had no right to take my sister s gift," he said to Hannah 
Ritner. " Its loss has caused her innocent credulity tears. 

" Luther, it was Lloyd Quantrell s mother s ring. He had no 


right to use it to trifle with a child. I took it to his father. Let 
Katy seek it there, and ask for Abel Quantrell s consent." 

" Will he give it back, Hannah ? " 

" I keep the ring," spoke Hannah Ritner, with unconscious au 
sterity ; " I did not ask it, but it has become mine. When Abel 
Quantrell refuses his son to her, let Katy come to me at the nun 
nery of Snow Hill." 

" Very well, Hannah. It is better that all shall pe understood, 
and there pe no deceit." 

"The old German spirit is in these hills," Light Pittson cried; 
" the ring of betrothal, the enchanted maids, the bearded men, like 
Odin, doing justice ! Hannah, tell this gentleman s fortune before 
we go to Frederick, and you send me back to papa ! " 

The weird elder woman gazed earnestly in Luther s face, and, 
obedient to Hannah Ritner s command, he removed his wool hat, 
and looked with mild pleasure in Light Pittson s ardent eyes. 

Hannah Ritner s dark orbs roved over Luther s countenance 
carefully ; and then, with eyes closed under her long black lashes, 
she muttered like one with wits scattered and evasive, till finally 
she cried : 

" Bosler, do not see ! Be blind till I am done." 

He closed his eyes, in gallantry more than interest, and soon the 
low sounds pierced his ear of the improvisatrice s poetry, sighed 
forth with passion : 

" The yellow star will fade some morn 
Yellow tassels leave good corn ! 
Then attend the bugle-horn, 

And all thy merit see ! 
Though in the church they censure some, 
Pain and duty keep thee dumb : 
To hollow heart the hollow drum 
Beats peace and victory ! " 

Luther kept his eyes closed, waiting for Hannah Ritner to speak 
again. , 

When he opened them, he was alone on the mountain with his 
wagon and horses, and the two female apparitions were nowhere in 

" Amen ! " sighed Luther, shaking his horses up ; " if Hannah 
raised that spirit by her side, it was a lovely one ! " 




MR. BOOTH asked Nelly Harbaugh if she would not prefer horse 
back-riding to Luther Bosler s buggy ; and there being only one 
saddle, though horses to spare, Nelly, with country character, 
mounted herself on a folded blanket and forced Booth to take the 
saddle and stirrups. Leaving Hugh Fenwick to keep Katy com 
pany, the other two started off in the middle of the afternoon for a 
ride of several miles, toward the upper portion of the Catoctin Valley. 

They passed through one small town, and then crossed between 
the two branches of Catoctin Creek, which drained the opposite 
parallel mountains that gradually converged and pushed the hillocks 
between them higher and higher, until, at \Volfsville, a clean and 
tidy village, they forded the clear green mountain-run and began to 
ascend a steep and rugged road, nearly on the mountain-plane. 

" There is no Maryland place north of us now," said Nelly Har 
baugh, " but one little store and old tavern at the edge of the wil 
derness, in the stone-heaps of Hunting Creeks. There the waters 
run off to the Monacacy River and the Antietam through the gorges 
of the mountains, and the people are woodsmen and berry-pickers. 
I have never been in those wilds." 

Booth seemed to enjoy the increasing loneliness of the way. He 
chose parts of the road to charge his horse and gallop up and down 
the steeps ; and, although Nelly rode firmly and fearlessly, she was 
no match for her companion s dashing horsemanship, and soon he 
drew from his hip-pocket a revolving pistol, and began to terrify his 
steed by shooting it at trees and stones while riding at full speed. 

The unsophisticated horse, finding so wild a rider on his back, 
attempted to run away ; but Booth was still his master, and, by 
mingled skill and strength, would throw the animal s head out of its 
purpose and relation, or force him to stumble and collect himself at 
the sacrifice of his fury. Then, with the rough, honest steed all cov 
ered with foam and trembling, Booth would awaken him to terror 
anew by firing the pistol right between his ears, and let him run into 
exhaustion again and check him as before. 

The horse was conquered at last, but not composed nor quieted 
to his fitful rider s way. 


"Please do not misuse Luther s horse," Nelly Harbaugh said, 
catching up. " His horses are steady as himself, and some of the 
neighbors may see and report us to him. Don t fire that pistol 
again ! It will alarm this quiet valley." 

" I was merely chasing John Brown and his men, experiment 
ally," answered Booth, laughing. " I dare say, too, that such con 
duct as mine would not reflect credit on the Dunker preacher s affi 
anced ? " 

" I am watched as never before. So is Luther. His learning is 
not to his credit in his sect, which regards eloquence and fame as 
evil vanities, and his intention to marry me is already the subject of 
their muttered talk." 

" Perhaps they will turn him out of the church ? " 

" Oh, if they only would, and he consent to it ! But it would 
ruin his peace, and that I could not see. His interest in that church 
is stronger than ever now, and the Dunkers, I fear, will never trust 

"Why, Nelly?" 

" Because I am ambitious. - The vanities they hate are life and 
religion to me. My love for that man is greater than everything, 
but I shall marry him like a girl entering the nunnery on account of 
her love." 

" O Nelly ! " cried Booth, " he never could shine in any other 
world. You can ! " 

" But to shine and have no heart left : that is just as bad ! 
Luther Bosler is a great man. He sees everything for himself. He 
loved me with slow, steady strength till the quiet time came to de 
clare it, and, ever since, I have been a child before him, yielding up 
everything. I am to be baptized, to put away my bright clothes, 
and become the example of people who will not have a musical in 
strument in their houses, nor even hear Katy Bosler s accordion 
without dislike." 

" Oh, shame ! It would be ingratitude to God. The best fami 
lies in this valley are not your superiors. Look at that profile that 
upturned eye like Medea s accusing the Fates, the eagle curve of the 
nose, and the strong, placid mouth that could speak one s doom as 
quietly as the Empress Catharine on the Russian throne ! No 
wonder, my great girl, you have some aspirations beyond a Dunker 
aneeting-house ! " 

He saw her countenance flush to this praise, and, riding by her 


side, had put his hand upon her chin, to give her profile the proper 

" I love praise," said Nelly Harbaugh, hardly repulsing his hand. 
" I believe all you say, though I don t know who the people are you 
compare me to. If my Luther would only speak to me like that, I 
could fall off this horse in the dust and worship him." 

" Oh, cutting compliment, Nelly ! To be compared to a fanatic 
like that ! Are you an abolitionist, too ? " 

" No. I have no politics. Negroes I look upon like all us poor 
whites with dislike. Luther s views on this and many subjects I 
do not understand. Please take your hand down from my neck, 
sir ! But if Luther Bosler was to compliment me I should feel that 
love and justice had crowned me, like religion itself. He is so much 
a man ! " 

Booth drew his hand away from Nelly somewhat testily, but 
interested in this girl with all the zest of a hunter of fierce animals. 

" You don t think me of a man s growth, then ? " 

" You interest me very much. You are a handsome man. I 
never saw a more agreeable and distinguished young gentleman. 
Once in my life I went to the theatre, and never since have I for 
gotten anything in the performance. To have an actor for a friend 
seems wonderful to me so wonderful that I can t find composure 
to flatter you. You are not settled, like Luther. He never would 
ride a horse furiously for no purpose at all. Therefore, when he 
says, Love me, it is like the command in the Scriptures the voice 
of his natural, undivided heart." 

" How do you know my heart has ever been occupied before ? " 

" It may never be fully occupied hereafter," Nelly answered ; 
" the heart adapted for love has the sound of love before love enters 
in it, Many a voice has uttered love to me, and I know all the 
tones. Lloyd Quantrell is in love : he talks to Katy in love s trem 
ble. You make me like you by the self-love you start in me ; Luther 
draws me to him by his full-grown character." 

" What has he got to recommend him in any worldly view ? " 

" Substantial property farms, horses, standing in his county, 
a whole sect at his back, a gentle, steady nature, relatives over a 
wide country all that a poor girl here wants, and more than 

Booth listened with an affable countenance whose very politeness 
exasperated the woman engaged to share these benefits. 


" Are you rich ? " she demanded. 

He started, as if not quite prepared for the question. 

" How much land have j0# got, sir? " 

" Not an acre." 

" Have you any city houses, or bonds, or stocks, or insurance, or 
even furniture ? " 

" Not yet, Nelly." 

" Your friend Lloyd says that actors spend everything upon their 
own vanity and appetites. I hope you don t. And yet you rode 
Luther s horse like a man who never owned his own horse." 

" I possess no horse," admitted Booth ; " I am only beginning." 

" There s Katy Hosier ; her daddy will give her a farm and stock. 
And here, sir, is my farm. I am not ashamed of it, because it is 
everything I have got, and every weed in it seems dear to me." 

A capacity she had for rapid fluctuations of feeling was instanced 
in this turn from challenge to sensibility, and her throat filled up 
with emotion as she pulled her horse toward him at her own gate, 
and pleaded : 

" You won t despise my little home, John ? " 

" With you, Nelly, it would be fair Rosamond s bower." 

She leaned forward in gratitude and apprehension, as if she 
knew no other way, and kissed him welcome. 

Nelly s place was a patch of ground a few acres in extent on the 
foreland of a high, sliding knoll, with a queer, low, rough-plastered 
house set at a spot where she could look off into the far distance at 
the diverging mountain-walls of the Catoctin Valley ; and the spire 
of Wolfsville Lutheran church was just visible over the nearer hills, 
while underneath her wild perch the ravines yawned full of rocks ; 
and beyond them the Catoctin Mountain was piled up in lonesome 
walls of woods just feeling the teeth of autumn. Some great rocks 
still stood like shepherd-dogs above the well-picked fields ; a cow 
bell tinkled in the unknown bottoms ; a dog ran out, half civil, and 
watched Booth fiercely. 

" Who lives here besides you, Nelly ? " 

" Not one. My mother died a year ago, and is buried by that 

" Your father ? " 

"He is dead, or gone. I may as well tell you, so that you can 
ask no further : He was a sergeant in the regular army, who came 
to Frederick recruiting before the Mexican War, and married my 


mother. He said one day, when I was a little thing, that he must 
go see his kin in the North, and he never came back. Mother took 
her old family name again, and I built her this home. Come in it !" 

The structure was simple, of refuse lumber, but made neat by 
vines, pots of flowers, an arbor, rude fences, and stone walls. 

" I plastered this house myself," Nelly said. " A beau of mine 
lent me the tools. I hauled the lime in a borrowed wagon. The 
cow-hair a love-sick butcher gave me. Luther Bosler brought me 
the lath. I sifted the sand from a gully ; and so I kept out the cold." 

There were pictures on the wall, taken generally from labels of 
cotton prints or from illustrated newspapers. 

There," cried Nelly, " is evidence to you, John "she had fallen 
easily at her own home into this familiar address " that I always 
loved the actors ! " 

It was a show-poster in colors, representing a fine blonde female, 
and entitled " Laura Keene, in The American Cousin. " 

" This seems to be good land, Nelly ? " 

" It was a stone-heap when I came here. While others picked 
berries I and mother picked stones, from week to week and from 
year to year. Sometimes I would pet a susceptible farmer to come 
with his team and chain of an evening and pull out a few big rocks. 
I live here all alone ; do you winder that Luther Bosler is a rich 
man to me ? " 

He flattered her less, because he began to feel that she had self- 
reliance as he had seldom heard of it in a worldly woman. 

" Do you not require help for some things ? " he asked ; some 
things disagreeable to women ? " 

" I had to do without it. Winter was before me, and I made 
ready to butcher myself, for bacon and ham do not grow ; but a 
neighbor relieved me of the killing. I have tended my cow, and 
been its only doctor at calving ; and have run the plow in my field 
rather than incur the obligation of a lover. In this exposed place 
one has to be careful about multiplying equals. Dangerous men 
might get access here through my indiscretion " 

" If they did ? " said Booth. 

" I should then shoot off my pistol, too ; but powder and shot are 

She drew down an old single-barrel gun from above the door, 
and raised it to her shoulder with a flash of the eye that took sight 
at the lock like yellow fire. 


2 9 I 

"This was all my father left my mother," Nelly said. "More 
than once I have taken it clown to kill an insolent man, and marched 
him past my gate ! " 

" Great God ! " exclaimed Booth, watching her thoughtfully ; 
" the women of Daniel Boone were no greater. Nelly, I came here 
with you for pleasure only. I know that I can not deceive you. 
You are a revelation to me of wonder and of wealth, and you have 
reason to love old John Brown that he invaded your country and 
brought me to your side yes, Miss Nelly Harbaugh, to your feet ! " 

He had taken her hands in his, and he knelt before her, doing 
homage, with an actor s cleverness, to a playing queen. She watched 
his manner, or actor s "business," with serious rapture. 

" Not one point am I richer than you in," continued Booth, softly 
and soothingly. " This little land you possess is more than I have 
saved more shame to me that it is so, for I have been better sala 
ried than my superiors these two years ! With strong body and 
willful tastes I have followed pleasure and been a spendthrift, know 
ing no woman of kindred ambition to lead me forward by love and 
emulation in my profession. I have found that woman. I can give 
you, Miss Nelly Harbaugh. the one chance of a hundred years on 
the stage my father s name is still our passport to ! " 

She looked at him severely, sadly, but with a longing, and her 
eyes roved through her lowly window to the sun retiring over the 
South Mountain and flooding the haze of the valley with golden 

" Get up," she said. " and let me set you some supper. I am not. 
to be taken by surprise." 

He saw her take down her father s fowling-piece, and for a mo 
ment he was frightened, as he considered her positive and hardening 
face, all strong in nervous reflection. 

" Perhaps," thought Booth, " she is going to spurn the tempta 
tion, and march me to the gate with that gun ! " 

She set before him an earthen jug of Bosler s whisky and clear 
water from her spring, and lighted her fire at the oven. He fol 
lowed her out and began to cut some wood for the oven, and he 
soon heard her gun discharged in her buckwheat patch, and she re 
appeared with a partridge. 

"Why, Nelly," he cried, assisting her at the fire, "these seem to 
be brook-trout frying ! " 

" They are. An old lover of mine has been fishing to-day in 



Little Hunting Creek, and his devotion comes in time for you. Since 
Brown s raid nobody much in Catoctin Valley has worked." 

She observed that a single glass of the liquor changed his tem 
perament, and made him less considerate and less gently negative. 

" You are not ignorant of farm-life, I see," Nelly remarked, as 
Booth ate heartily of the trout and baked bird. 

" I should think not. Every child of my father was born on a 
Maryland farm, and he had a morbid dread for years of our going 
to the cities or the theatres. It was thirty-seven years ago, when 
he had been only a year in America, and was hardly older than I 
am now for he had gone upon the stage at eighteen that he 
bought a wild patch of ground like yours, and put my patient mother 
upon it. For company for her he brought out his penniless old 
father, a graduate of the radical spout-shops of London. What a 
place for two people who had lived abreast of Napoleon and Wel 
lington in the greatest city of the world ! The rank woods grew 
around us, full of wild animals and poisonous snakes. The nearest 
to\vn was a rude court-house place, and there we went to school 
three miles and back of a day, while father roved all over the country 
acting till he would be discharged, or wander away disgusted ; and 
then he came home to turn the satyr side of his nature upon us. He 
had a dread of final poverty, and if we wanted money we had to 
work for it. So I have planted corn for three levies a day, and 
picked stone off the neighbors fields for a quarter of a dollar." 

" I am glad of that, my friend. Then you know what humil 
ity is ? " 

She reached out her hand to shake his with sympathy. 

" No, Nelly. Humility only our mother knew. We had derived 
a terrible ambition from that seedy old ruined grandfather, who 
claimed relationship with a Lord Mayor of London, for whom I am 
namesake John Wilkes ! One by one we departed, all for the same 
assertive vocation. I was the last." 

He had retained her hand, and, holding it warmly, concluded : 

" I can feel for you, my girl ! and the bright spirit of art has sent 
me to break the spell that walls your beauty in with these dragon 
mountains. Think of these fair, long hands, whose silver sinews 
Apollo might have driven the stallions of yonder setting sun with, 
growing misshapen and warty at the plow and the hoe, when 
Heaven intended them for rings of precious stones, and to be kissed 
by merchant princes kneeling for your regard I " 



He kissed her hand, but she asked with a still, steady voice, amid 
her flushing : 

" What were you paid when you became an actor first ? " 

" My father wandered off and died seven years ago upon a West 
ern river. I was the only son at home, in Baltimore, and tired of 
school and dependence ; so my brother-in-law, a manager, gave me 
eight dollars a week to act small parts in Philadelphia. I despised 
such employment, and a Virginia manager next offered me three 
times that salary, and in Richmond I have become a great favorite. 
This volunteering I have done, to defend Virginia, has made me a 
hero in the South. Look, Nelly, at these newspaper clippings ! " 

With a nervous avarice of praise he read to her, in an accentuated, 
professional style, the unqualified fulsomeness of Southern writing in 
the provincial days of State rights : " The gallant Booth,"/ The suc 
cessor of Brutus in name and deed," " The South s defender," " Vir 
ginia s champion," etc. 

Soldiering had not been required for so long in America that 
Brown s raid had obtained all the importance of a war, and every 
private in it received the notoriety of a general, while a Marylander 
volunteering in aid of invaded Virginia, seemed in the strained State 
" sovereignty " distinctions of those times like Lafayette assisting 
another country. 

" Mark me, Nelly ! " declaimed Booth, feeding his excitement at 
the whisky-glass " this coming of mine to Charlestown, with the 
devotion of a patriot, makes my fortune as an actor ! " 

" You mean in the South ? " 

" In the South and the West, too, for half the West is Southern. 
We are three brothers, and we are to divide our father s raiment by 
taking his name in three great sections separately Junius on the 
Pacific, Edwin in the North, and I am to have the cotton States and 
the Mississippi Valley. It makes no difference whether I act good 
or bad, since I have joined the forces against John Brown, and am 
become a Virginian. I shall be a star next year, traveling with 
my own manager and company. Now I am only Mr. John Wilkes 
on the bills, but then I shall be Mr. Booth, the tragedian, and half 
the receipts will be my share. I shall make twenty thousand dollars 
in three months ! " 

" My Lord ! " exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh, " what can you do with 
the money ? " 

" Give it," replied Booth, " to the woman I love, and whom I 


will make my leading lady to pay her a salary worthy of her 
beauty, and to encourage her talent by noble dressing and cultiva 

" To me ? " she cried. " I won t believe you ! " 

" No, the surprise is too great, my honest girl. You have set 
your mind no higher than keeping a Dunker farmer s milk-cans, and 
can not grasp the sum of your value to me." 

The girl s eyes sought her father s gun above the door with weak 
temper, and she started from her seat at the table and retreated from 

" I was prepared to be flattered by you," she exclaimed, trem 
bling. " I thought I was armed against you everywhere. Why 
can you tempt me like that ? If I am strong and alone, I am only 
a woman." 

A flood of actual tears came out upon the bursting of a sob. He 
endeavored to break this instant of weakness upon his compassion 
ate breast, but her arms were thrown outward, instinctive as her 
cry, to ward him off. 

" Where is my man ? " she moaned, laying her golden-tinted 
neck and unbound wave of hair upon the clay chimney-place ; " the 
man I am promised to, and who should be my shepherd now when 
I am asked to stray from the fold ? Gone, and I am left with a 
beautiful devil and this temptation ! " 

"Pardon me!" said Booth, also rising. "Your ingratitude 
wounds me, too. I thought I interpreted your wishes, or I would 
not have expressed my own. Your sensibility, Nelly, convinces me 
the more that you can reform the evil in me, and make me a man. 
Young as I am, a woman s influence is already my necessity. If not 
as an artist, help me as a wife ! " 

He took the old gun from the place above the door, and walked 
out into the fields noiselessly, but she knew that he was gone. 

Her dog was growling suspiciously to see her cry, when she 
looked up, and she walked to her cheap, gilt looking-glass, and took 
it from its peg and sat with it, under her arbor, looking alternately 
at her great, reddened, expressive blue eyes and at the falling of 
sunset upon the receding billows of the Catoctin Valley. 

She had lost the joy of this home, the humble monument of her 
hands, and lost, also, the solace of her marriage engagement, so 
dearly invited and full of sacred whisperings mutuality, trust, chil 
dren, worship, and widening good name the opportunity of charity, 



the manna of improvement, the self-respect the world can not take 
away. A superficial man, full of strong will, hardly her senior in 
years, and unscrupulous in friendship, had crossed the gentle vista 
of her domestic settlement like the shadow of a croaking crow she 
saw go across her white buckwheat-blossoms a winged appetite. 
With superstitious memory she recalled the fortune-teller s lines : 

" Something dark and white I mark, 
It shall mark thee with the dark ! " 

She heard the gun of Booth go off, and the crow dropped out of his 
driving career, limp and nondescript. 

Deeper helplessness settled upon her as she thought how her 
very thoughts were countered by this stranger s casualty. 

Glancing at her looking glass, something of her mother s piteous 
expression there, whom she had seen so often cry at Nelly s way 
wardness, brought real tears again ; this time she let them come 
like steam from the scalding kettle, grateful with relief. 

That mother, the flower of the valley, culled by a bold, effusive 
stranger, and briefly worn with a devotion above constancy, had 
died with one faith and prayer alone the preservation of her child s 
pure soul in wifely custody to some native, unranging man. Her 
prayers were now answered, for Luther Bosler had been that moth 
er s choice, though she might never knew his and Heaven s conde 
scension in this world. 

" Oh, speak, mother ! " the soldier s orphan sighed ; " let Nature 
somewhere break this chain that drags me down like the hewed tree 
to the mill in the valley ! I feel the high wheels take me down ; I 
hear the saw scream for me in the long coffin of the saw-mill ; my 
body is on the trundle, and I am going forward in the grooves. Oh, 
pray-pray pray ! " 

Booth heard these words, and they made him superstitious. 
Thrice in that way had his father spoken when he died, a poor, old, 
lonely man in the state-room of a Western steamboat, saying with 
strangling breath, " Pray pray pray ! " 

The son felt the admonition of conscience, and he answered 
Nelly s prayer : 

" I withdraw my offer, Nelly. You are too good a girl." 

" What ? " She had arisen from her struggle, like one made the 
subject of a miracle. 

" This independence you live in, is better than the dependence 


and uncertainty of the stage. The man you have promised is better 
for you than I could be. Come, be my friend, and God bless you ! " 

His better nature had prevailed ; the game had vexed him, and 
he abandoned it. 

" O John ! I will always be your friend, for now I see the white 
ness and the darkness fall apart in your nature." 

With friendship made up of gratitude and relief, she took him 
in her arms like a brother long wished for, and on her ardent kiss 
the gypsy in his blood flamed in an instant again. He reached for 
the jug of whisky, but she interposed : 

" Oh, do not drink again ! It changes your nature so." 

"You know me already," spoke Booth. "What an angel you 
can be, throwing worldly ambition away! It was not made for 

" I confess that sin, John. Am I cured of it ? " 

" I never would have robbed you of this independence, Nelly. 
It is the dream of my own life to stand above and away from vulgar 
contact. If I had made you my pupil, I would not have advanced 
you beyond your growth. First I would have put you in the chorus, 
and let you find your own level. Your courage and perseverance 
would have brought you out." 

Again her imagination hearkened to the revelations of that glit 
tering mimic world, but he had assuaged her fears. She listened 
to him now without suspicion, since he had redeemed himself. He 
talked long and sensibly, with most instructive minutice of informa 
tion about the chances and rewards of actress-life. 

"Why, Nelly," he cried at last, "it is past eight o clock. You 
must not be compromised by staying alone with me in this house. 
To horse, my Dunker cavalier ! " 

As they stood in her little stable together, making the horses 
ready, he murmured, taking her hand : 

" Am I trusted ? " 

" Always." 

"Then you can kiss me." 

" This is the last, dear John." 

It was late when they reached Bosler s farm, and the great dog 
Fritz being absent there, no barking announced them. They put 
the horses in the stable quietly, and, guided back to the house by a 
candle in a window, paused there to look within. 

Katy was asleep, with her accordion still in her hands. 


Gazing down at her, with his Catholic breviary in his lap, Hugh 
Fenwick looked in more than image-worship. 

The spotted pointer, Albion, took in the scene with one eye, as 
consonantly mischievous with his own general intentions. 

" My gracious ! " cried Katy. as the door opened and the dog 
snapped ; " is it you, Nelly ? Why, I dreamed you had pecome an 
actor at te teatre." 

Jake Bosler, too, had been aroused, and his shaggy hair and 
beard were seen at the stairway-door, and he remarked : 

" Soun-up. Bi m-by ! " 



A WARM Friday within the brink of December like the climate 
of the better world let down to temper an old man s winter saw 
the lean, long body of John Brown turning, with the breezes from 
the Shenandoah, at the end of a cord. 

There hung the unprefaced one, amid two thousand soldiers, the 
captain of the greatest episode in time. 

The gallows-tree was framed about with lines of chivalry ; but 
something odd, and moral, and pitiful, hung there on a hempen 
string, which made the imposing military display seem moderate, 
and no volunteer in it felt the occasion not to be dignified. 

Nearest the gallows was the company in which stood to his 
musket John Wilkes Booth stern, handsome, and classical. Quan- 
trell was a substitute in a more distant command ; John Yates Beall 
was also in the gay-vestured field each of these young men taking 
a lot in the old man s bloody raiment, here raffled in the chief gate 
way to the slave States. 

It was the dress rehearsal of the mightiest war since the courts \ 
Europe had repressed and imbibed republicanism. 

Stuart and Lee, Wise and Vallandigham, had rehearsed at the 
old man s capture. Stonewall Jackson at the head of his school of 
cadets, Turner Ashby commanding the pickets, Israel Green, the 
marine-officer who had cut John Brown down, and Jeff Thomp 
son from far-off Missouri, were some of the pawns at the scaffold. 



The gray uniforms from Richmond, the light blue from Alexandria, 
the buff and yellow from Winchester, and the crimson from Appo- 
mattox, stood in the great hollow square of troops, to which the 
militia from Petersburg had guarded this one old man from jail, as 
he rode upon his coffin. ^The guidon-flags to designate the posi 
tions these and others were to take, prophesied the name, also, on 
each, of some unborn battle. 

( No gambler ever paid the odds of life which these neighborhoods 
< paid John Brown a thousand, at least, to one. No Valkyria of Odin \ 
, and the Northern gods ever marked more surely the sites of devas- / 
/ tation : Gettysburg, Chambersburg, Hagerstown, Winchester, Rich- V 
/ mond, Knoxville, and Chattanooga, had all been spied out for the 
^ strategy that John Brown appeared at this moment to have brought^ 
Sto such a small and personal conclusion. 

Short had been his shrift tried in seven days, sentenced in six 

days more, executed in another month not seven weeks in all ; but 

in that time he rounded life with the accuracy and completeness of 

- a comet predicted and fulfilled. His foolishness ended at his taking, 

S and his greatness began in his failure. The letters he answered, 

the speech he made in court, his consistency and simplicity, had a 

moral influence feebly prefigured by the reckless Samson pulling the 

heathen temple down. Of Samson had remained only strength ; of 

Brown, no strength only testimony. 

The abolitionist that unseen terror had at last been captured 
and displayed in the slave States, and probably the only perfect 
specimen. Nearly every one of the same genus who had been privy 
to his plans retreated from the responsibility, and left him on the 
enemy s side, a deadly hostage, subtle as wisdom itself. 

Quantrell, Booth, and Beall, the youthful trio we are to carry 
through our narrative, all heard John Brown when he rose in court 
to answer why sentence should not be passed upon him. 

His head still ringing with sword-strokes, and his side and kid 
neys wounded, he was able, by long absorption of his theme, to 
preach upon it without preparation, and to the most modest and won 
drous effect. 

He rose from his blanket and cot, like Lazarus from the dead, 
all bandaged and feeble, and said that he had come to Virginia to 
set free slaves : 

" Had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the in- 
(^ telligent, the so-called great," said John Brown, " and suffered and ( 


/ sacrificed what I have in this interference, it would have been all j 
{ right, and every man in this court would have deemed it an act / 
(^worthy of reward rather than punishment." 

His tones were almost hesitating, and therefore the quiet mean 
ing felt its way along the heart-strings as art could never do. Glanc 
ing, in need of an idea, at the little Bible by the judge, the old man, 
touching sixty years of age and looking seventy, raised his mighty 
plaint again : 

r "I see a book kissed in this court which I suppose to be the 
j New Testament, which teaches me that all things whatsoever I 
[would that men should do to me I should do even so to them. It \ 
j teaches me further to remember them that are in bonds as bound <j 
jwith them. I endeavored to act up to that instruction; forjjmi ^ 
( X. e -l to YP U1 2& to understand that God is any respecter of persons. 
) I believe that to have interfered, as I have done, in behalf of his 
despised poor, is no wrong, but right." 

Those high words had been a felony spoken anywhere in Vir- 
(ginia except in court, and for the first time in thirty years they were 
now legally proclaimed. The judge was presiding at an abolition 
meeting, and was powerless to arrest an orator who came shod in 
the supernal light of martyrdom. Poor men without slaves heard the 
gospel where no misinterpretation could distort the preacher s na 
ture, and the great slaveholders would feign have cried out in chagrin, 
as in a noble poem, contemporary with John Brown, " Hadst thou 
sought the whole State over, there was no one place so secret no 
high place nor lowly place where thou couldst have escaped me 
save on this very scaffold." * 

He continued, and they felt it was a gentleman who now spoke, 
whatever he may have been before : 

, " Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for ; 
/ the furtherance of the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further 
\ with the blood of my children, and with the blood of millions, in this 
j slave country, whose rights are disregarded by the wicked, cruel, 
(_and unjust enactments, I say, let it be done !" 

Ouantrell s eyes filled with tears at the recollection of Brown s 
dying sons, who had gone in bloody testimony before him. He 
heard other sobs, also, in that long, deep court-room, w r ith people 
standing in window-sills, and oil-lamps feebly lighting the packed 

* " The Scarlet Letter." 



inclosure ; but the voice of Booth rebuked those symptoms, audibly 
saying : 

" The damned, black-hearted villain ! " 

" Heart black as a stove-pipe ! " muttered the tight-shut skull of 
young Mr. Beall. 

The old man now thanked the court, the neighboring society, 
and the jury courteously, and those who had prematurely muttered 
against him grew small in their own esteem. He disclaimed any 
design of treason or general insurrection, merely desiring to take 
people out to liberty. Nor had he misled any, many of his volun 
teers having been strangers to him, and most of them had paid their 
own expenses to death. 

Thus he disposed of the impression sought to be made by some 
Northern lawyers, afraid to defend freedom from freedom s side, 
and destroyed the stigma that he, an old, wise man, had decoyed 
some boys to danger. The little army of fanaticism was made to 
stand equal everywhere upon the high ground of principle. 

Only one man applauded when he was sentenced, and him the 
judge severely rebuked, so that in after-years he was afraid to shout 
at all, and grew timid of his own natural emotions. 

Little Ned Coppock had been tried, as John Brown came up for 
sentence, and when they sentenced him, who was almost a favorite 
with the populace, so fair and young he was, Ned also spoke : 

" I never committed murder. When I escaped to the engine- 
house and found the captain and his prisoners surrounded there, I 
saw no way of deliverance but by fighting a little. If anybody was 
killed on that occasion, it was in a fair fight." 

Coppock had been a poor orphan boy, but the Quaker who raised 
him found somewhere in him the spirit of the wild copack, or Rus 
sian lanceman, whence may have come his name ; and when John 
Brown discovered him in Iowa he entered the crusade cordially, and 
it was not to his disparagement in Virginia that he had fought 
bravely. He stood up to be sentenced with his arms behind him, 
abreast of John Cook/whose arms were folded; and between them 
stood two negroes, Green, the South Carolinian, and Copeland from 
Oberlin a college which educated blacks with whites. 

Green was from Charleston the city which was to begin the war 
a runaway slave, and he had fought revengefully. Copeland had 
been raised of Virginia seed in Ohio. These two, the least culpable 
in motive there, were the most friendless ; but Virginia took distino 


tion that day that she, alone of the slave States, probably, would do 
no more than punish them equally like the white invaders. Farther 
south they would have died by torture. 

John E. Cook, the most befriended of any by relatives and power, 
and he alone dressed newly and well, was the most unhappy person 
in the band. The rest had put life behind them, and were resigned 
to die, while he had been tempted to confess upon his comrades, as 
he had also been the Hebrew spy upon Virginia, and therefore his 
intelligence did him no credit, being unaccompanied with constancy. 
A thread of self-love and glorifying went through his natural cour 
age and left him unsupported in despondency, but, as his life was 
taken at last, he died manfully, and might have left a noble figure 
with his delicate outlines and better mental organization than the 
rest. It would seem from John Brown s final rebuke of him that 
Cook had proceeded to Harper s Ferry in advance, upon his own 
motion chiefly, liking the adventure even better than the cause. 

Stevens was tried reclining on the court-room floor, with his back 
against a mattressed chair, old slippers on his feet, and his head in 
a kerchief. He accepted no favors, looked with contempt on court 
and foe, regarded John Brown as less of a military genius than he 
had supposed, and for the rest cared nothing; since he joyously 
believed in spirit -people, and meant his death to be a visita 

Hazlett, who had also been recaptured, was a plain, dull Penn- 
sylvanian ; for the little roster of Brown s daring lads covered many 
States Maine, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Ohio, Indi 
ana, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and South Carolina ; and Kansas 
had been their military academy. 

In spite of their injury to Jefferson County, Virginia, its people 
were seldom harsh with these strangers. The Teutonic wave rip 
pling through that region was mild and laving, and in many a farm 
house lay Kercheval s old " History of the Valley," saying : " Twenty- 
four hours never pass during which my imagination does not present 
me with the afflicting view of the slave ; and my consolation was that 
the master would receive the punishment due to his cruelty, while 
the slave should find rest from his toils and sufferings in the king 
dom of heaven ! " 

This conscience ran through all grades in Virginia, from the 
Governor of the State, at Richmond, to the jailer at Charlestown. 
" I am in charge of a jailer," the old man wrote to his family, "like 

3 02 


the one who took charge of Paul and Silas, and kind hearts and 
kind faces are more or less about me, while thousands are thirsting 
for my blood ! " 

He was a multiform study indeed, with prismatic lights and 
sides. Now he was Cromwell, and now John Bunyan ; now Pres 
byterian, and now Independent, but no preacher would John Brown 
have, since all who came to pray with him justified slavery. He had 
skeptical or infidel sons, some of whom had died with Christian de 
votion fighting for his political cause, but he averred that his expe 
dition and defeat had been predestined in the eternal decrees of God. 
He disclaimed having ever had the spirit of retaliation, yet admitted 
advising acts of deadly reprisal, such as friendship, to this day, feeb 
bashful to defend ; and, indeed, he was an Old Testament pupil, 
possessed with the complacency of Heaven s headsman and hewer- 
down. Discerning people said he was partly insane, but he remarked 
acutely : " I must be very insane, if insane at all ; but if that be so, 
insanity is like a very pleasant dream to me." There seemed an un 
feeling side to him, as when he advised his wife not to come to him, 
and to have all the bodies of her slain sons and sons-in-law burned ; 
yet his letters home were tender as a daughter s, and from Maryland 
came proof that he would never kill a pig nor cut open a watermelon 
without dividing with the poor people around him there. 

Death seemed to John Brown a mere incident in justice, and 
wrong-doers or wrong systems to be under the sentence of Moses 
and Joshua. That terrible book which waked the Calvinist and 
Baptist to civil war and cut off the English king s head, John Brown 
had balanced over the Anglo-Saxon republic, and made terrible 
again by his willful reading of it. The democracy of the saints 
seemed still his religion, and he wrote to a merchant : " I go joyfully 
in behalf of millions that have no rights, and I look forward to other 
changes to take place, believing that the fashion of this world pass- 
eth away. " " Let me be spared," he said to another Joseph of 
Arimathea, " any weak or hypocritical prayers made over me when 
I am publicly murdered, and let my only religious attendants be 
poor, little, dirty, ragged, bareheaded and barefooted slave-boys and 
slave-girls, led by some old, gray-headed slave-mother ! " 

Quantrell took Katy in to see him one day when Lloyd was on 
guard and Katy in the town. The tears came to Katy s eyes to hear 
his chains rattle. 

" Tears for me ? " the spiky-haired old borderer said ; " I will 


turn them, my children, into songs. At my little farm in Maryland, 
twelve miles from here, was a nest of wrens under the rude porch, 
and one day the old birds flew right into the room where my daughter 
Anne was sewing, and I reading my Bible. What can be the mat 
ter, father ? Anne said to me. The wrens were flying and trem 
bling, and twittering, as they had never done before. I took up a 
pike that one of my black volunteers had brought in, and went out 
on the porch. Nothing seemed to be there. The brooks and copses, 
and wild hills were glad with sound and silence, and shadow and 
light. Nothing is here, Anne, said I; the young birds are in 
their nests. It is a false alarm. O father, she answered, look 
at that snake ! I then saw twined round the post, below the nest 
in the eaves, a black snake, all ready to devour the young, so help 
less and unknowing in the nest. My child " (to Katy), " I killed 
the snake, and such a song as those old birds gave me, sitting on 
the rail of the porch, never will be sung till the chains fall off and 
the young birds are free ! " He rattled his chains. " You may be 
lovers, children, and your young will be some day in the cradle, and 
slavery, if twined around the pillar of our system, will choke their 
life and chance away. Sing to the old man s pike when slavery is 
no more ! for you are all my children, Southern as well as Northern, 
though the snake will strangle me, and leave my young wrens to 
starve ! " 

Katy had not blushed, pity starting in her maiden s milk ; and, 
while she strained her eyes in earnest woe, Lloyd tapped his foot 
and they sang, and John Brown knew the piece and joined in : 

" Carol, brothers, carol ; carol joyfully ! 
Carol the good tidings ; carol merrily ! 
And pray a gladsome Christmas 
For all good Christian men. 
Carol, brothers, carol 
Christmas-day again ! 

" Hearing angel-music, 
Discord sure must cease : 
Who dare hate his brother 
On this day of peace ? 
While the heavens are telling 
To mankind good-will, 
Only love and kindness 
Every bosom fill ! 



" Carol, brothers, carol ; 
Carol joyfully ! " etc.* 

The unwonted singing raised a great commotion. The general, 
Taliaferro whom usage degraded to Tolliver, and whom some 
dubbed Tolable had been at the guard-house across the way, tak 
ing his nap on the veranda, heavy with epaulets and juleps, and 
ridden by the nightmare of responsibility. He heard this singing, 
and took it superstitiously. Some abolition angels might have 
rolled the stone away from John Brown s tomb, and celebrated his 
escape with Yankee hosannas. 

He came tearing up the jail-porch, his mighty sword raising 
echoes down the silent afternoon street, and his spurs catching in 
his trousers stripes. 

" Campbell Avis, what s to pay ? " roared the general. " Who s 
a-doin this breakdown ? Is this a time faw levity ? " 

The sheriff and the jailer, thus addressed, entered the condemned 
man s cell, and the general followed, cunningly, lest some black art 
might be at work. 

" Cappen Brown," asked the doughty general, " am I to under 
stand that you, sah, desire, sah, of this saranadin , sah? It s not in 
military usage, cappen, but we consult yo wishes, sah." 

" I do, general. The young people sing at my request." 

" Cappen Brown," exclaimed the general of militia, saluting for 
the third time, " yo desiah shall be complied with, sah, in spite of 

Hereupon the general turned, at such a military right angle that 
he ran into six of his staff, who had come to rescue him, and an in 
extricable confusion of sabers, chapeaux, epaulets, spurs, salutes, 
oaths, and apologies ensued, ending by a strewing of the place with 
fallen magnanimity. Some one ran to the cannon under the court 
house portico to fire it off, and the negroes at the two hotels rang 
the big dinner-bells in the trees, and fell down their respective cel 
lars, to anticipate a bombardment. 

Keenly alive to the humors of the siege of Charlestown by a 
phantom abolition army, Ouantrell and Booth put up tricks on the 
Virginia militia, including John Beall, who regarded everything with 
a lowering and serious temperament. But the culmination of bur 
lesque and pathos was in the reception of John Brown s wife. 

* By Rev. W. A. Muhlenberg, of the family of General Muhlenberg, the 
Lutheran pastor in the Valley, whose gown covered his Continental uniform. 


The subject of her visit had been made a diplomatic matter, and 
was the occasion of more telegraphing between the old pagan Capi 
tol at Richmond and the seat of war in the Valley than all the Vir 
ginia press required for news. 

Would she bring, concealed about her person, the plot for his 
rescue or escape ? Did the art of war show an instance of a woman 
entering the picket-lines ? Could the reception of Mrs. Brown give 
a pretext for the Federal courts to interfere ? 

Chivalry prevailed at last, and word was passed to bring Mrs. 
Brown from Harper s Ferry to Charlestown, not by rail, but by pri 
vate conveyance and military escort. 

The carriage-cushions were carefully taken out to see if they 
concealed any Northern newspaper correspondents, and an escort 
of cavalry formed around the ancient vehicle, that had apparently 
been used in the Shakespearean age by Captain John Smith, and 
was at least as old and as decrepit as the American Constitution, 
which was soon to furnish old lumber and leather enough for two 

A file of Virginia dragoons in the uniform of Marlborough s age 
surrounded this crazy State vehicle ; the poor lady s friends were not 
allowed to ride with her ; but the Virginia militia officers, instead, 
inflicted their preposterous eighteenth-century sympathy and com 
pliment upon a woman simple and native in her life and ways as 

Up the long, dry turnpike stretches, like causeways to the top 
and bottom of the world, dragoons and coach came rattling, pistols 
and sabers ready ; and negroes peeped from knot-holes in toll-house 
and barn, and white families turned out at lanes and blacksmiths 
corners, to see this ogress, who had been the bandit s bride and ma 
ternal font of bandit sons. 

Alas ! She had hunted for twenty-four hours at Harper s Ferry 
to get a wandering bone or shoe of her lost babes killed there in the 
foray ; and one had been the sport of a dissecting-table, and the 
other clapped into a dead negro s arms and buried indistinguish- 

So she reached the hill-top of Charlestown, marked by the 
stumpy-towered Episcopal church and the prosecuting attorney s 
mansion, and there the great review was taking place to prepare for 
the execution on the morrow. The poor lady, worn out with the 
silly chatter she had been subjected to, took little note of the glitter- 


ing bayonets and loud comments each yelled with special reference 
to " Madame " Brown ; or of the churchyard filled with rabble and 
the church itself a barrack ; of the absence of black people from the 
streets, and the curiosity of women. She heard the sharp echoes on 
the stones, felt the sharp pain in her heart, and realized where glory 
and philanthropy left the blasted home. 

The street at the jail corners was so crowded that the military 
had to clear a way and form a square ; but all their ostentation was 
wasted on the plain, large woman who had learned patience in 
Northern winters and unintermittent child-births, and who had dealt 
above a quarter of a century with a husband impracticable and per 
severing as the wild steer. 

They gazed on her with hardly recognition, thinking she had not 
yet come when she was gone ; for they expected they knew not 
what, but something dazzling, like Taliaferro s aides, some of whom 
had their hair plaited double behind and brought around to the front 
and tied in a bow-knot between their eyes ! 

The general himself was an entire review, as he stood in the 
upholstery of militia regalia, with a staff never afterward equaled in 
numbers and pomatum in the New World. 

Leather thighings, prodigious boots, loops of dyed horse-hair, 
epaulets which seemed to clank, and sabers which seemed to titter, 
spurs pointing upward, swords pointing forward, scabbards getting 
awry, mustaches twisted, beards like breastplates, dignity and vanity 
mixed, like the quid of tobacco under the martial jaw, and the solem 
nity of an historical occasion attempted to be preserved coincident 
with the gallantry due a lady. 

" General Tollivaw " (the scene seemed to give it the sound of 
Bolivaw), " pawmit me, general, saw, to present Madame Brown, 
saw, of the State, saw, of New Yawk ah ! saw." 

Solemn silence, punctuated by an officer letting fly his tobacco- 
expectoration over his helmet-chain without moving his countenance 
from its austerity. 

" Welcome, welcome to Vahgeenia, madame," spoke the general, 
vast hat in hand, and describing the radius of a great circle on the 
floor. " Pawmit me to shake yo hand. Pawmit me to wish yo 
health is faw. Pawmit me to intojuce the offisaws of my staff." 

Severally, to this unabashed, unrelaxing, stalwart mother and 
pioneer, the well-meaning but inconsiderate sons of Mars were intro 
duced, each in sentiment surrendering his personality to " Virginia," 


while, in fact, with a whetted self-consciousness provincial patriotism 
alone could so deform. Some assured her of " true Virginia hospi 
tality " if she should ever visit their respective counties she who 
was to know upon the morrow the pang of widowhood and want, 
and in whose life, for years past, the acquisition of a calico dress was 
an historical period ! 

But of that fantastic staff how many were to fall and clutch the 
turf, crying on God and mother, and forgetting that Virginia ever 

It seemed a comfort to her, after a quarter of an hour of ill-timed 
smirks and inanities, to be taken aside by Mrs. Avis, the jailer s 
wife, and searched for implements of suicide ; but Mrs. Avis knew 
John Brown would never take his own life, and her hands had the 
tenderness of caresses. There was the real and memorable hospi 
tality of Virginia, in that shoemaker-jailer s family, facing the roar 
of merciless millions, who called for severity to Brown s men, but 
saying back, " These are my captives and my guests." Such jailers, 
a little later, might have made prison-pens also pitiful. 

The jailer alone remained in the little parlor with the condemned 
man and his wife, although Taliaferro broke in once, to say that they 
could only have two hours, and then gave them four, for he was a 
kinder man than his wind. 

The resolute woman of forest stature and manual labor s mold 
went up to John Brown and called him " Father." He was the only 
father she knew ; for, marrying him at half his age, when she was 
of only sixteen years, she paid the penalty childhood, like Ruth, pays 
to old Boaz and his prospects and intellect. 

He was then postmaster, surveyor, tanner, and town-maker, with 
the dogmatic will of one predestined to be restless all his days. He 
led her continually into the deserts, and left her there, and went off 
on some inspired freak of ruin, leaving little babes around her, and 
even a babe to come; and when she gave him her destiny and 
tenderness in charge, he already had been the father of seven chil 
dren, five of them alive. 

He gave her the life of a poor white, aggravated by the splendid 
illusions of a schemer and a dreamer, and the end of the dream had 

He had levied upon her sons, the support of her mountain-patch 
of land, and taken them to death, with their widows to be left upon 
her care. Thirteen children had she borne this old man, the sire of 



twenty ; and to-morrow he was to die, and bequeath her only his 

He took her in his arms, and in his white beard lay her face, as 
often she had thrown it into the fleece she spun for his clothing in 
his absence, wondering if he could be dead. The spasm of her 
broad shoulders showed that she was weeping, and the gurgle of 
the spirit within, breaking over this last flinty barrier, sobbed forth 
a few times ; but he stood like a rock used to the flood and full of 
its moss and lichens ; the tears that wet his face were the splashings 
of hers. He was pitying her and Nature, but not himself. 

She looked up, and saw him so natural and strong, and dried her 
tears, still leaning on his mouth ; for she looked like his buxom 
daughter, and only his shaft-like head made him higher than hers. 

" Father," she said, " they let me come to see you at last." 

He kissed her, and asked for the widows he had made and the 
children he was never to see. 

" Mary," said he, " is grandfather s old granite tombstone set up 
by the big rock at North Elby ? " 

" Yes, father, with son Freddy s name under your grandfather s, 
who fit in the Revolution." 

" I value it highly," said John Brown, " for I am the first of my 
family ever put in jail ; and, Mar}-, I want my name to go by Grand 
father John Brown s. A revolutionary soldier, too, I hope I was." 

" Papa, we don t accuse you. You thought it was right. We 
think so, too." 

" Three of my sons, killed in this war for liberty, I want remem 
bered by an inscription on that stone. Grandfather and me will 
make two more. I have loved this life, wife, so much, I want to 
leave a line upon a stone." 

His ambition was greater than the expectations of religion, for 
he had found that tombstone the day he ordered his deadly pikes 
from the blacksmith, by his grandfather s grave. 

The tombstone being discharged from his mind, Captain Brown 
settled into a contented mood, and sat down to the meal the good 
jailer furnished, eating sparingly, and with business references to 
small matters of property ; for he adhered to the idea, and his wife 
also, that he was a great master of affairs, and had always failed 
through the incompetence of the times, seasons, and agents. He 
asked if his wife could not remain with him that night and depart 
with his mold next day, instead of retiring, as if she were a whole 


army, to Harper s Ferry, eight miles away, and there await his 
dumb remains. The request was denied ; for the rabble clamored 
about the jail, and the moral pulse of the State was in a high fever. 

So Brown settled down to read his will, which the jailer wit 

It was a will of souvenirs, and not property : the tombstone, his 
surveyor s compass, a silver watch, a glass, a lost gun, Bibles, and 
debts. He wanted all his little debts paid, even to people whose 
names he had forgotten. When this was ended, the old man looked 
quite comfortable and commercial ; for his ideas never had failed to 
impress his family, and the departure he was to take on the morrow 
seemed only a larger journey and with no traveling expenses to 
provide. Strange that he had read the Bible every day of his life, 
and forgot it now ! We all think we shall die anticipating, but we 
die retrospecting, and preparing for this world. It was, probably, 
with an insight into his high, ambitious, Puritan nature, that Mary 
Anne Brown inquired : 

-" Father, wasn t you disappointed at being took so soon ? " 

" My dear," the old man said, \vith a nervous twitch, his hairy 
forehead wrinkled speculatively, and his gray eyes preoccupied, 
" the errors of my plan were decreed before the world was made, 
and I had no more to do with the course I pursued than the shot 
leaving a cannon has to do with the spot where it shall fall." 

" Pappy," she said, the last word being a cry that struck the 
jailer s heart, " didn t you suffer when Oily died, and our oldest boy, 
Watty ? " 

" No pain is like our offspring s death," the old man said, with 
his right shoulder pushed forward as if to lean upon some spirit 
unseen ; " I loved my children, Mary ; you have seen me nurse them 
weeks at a time. But I saw them die without tears, they were so 

All trembling, the large child-woman rose and meant to say 
something proudly, but it would not articulate. 

" I have no boy left," she meant to say, " and you will be taken, 

" Courage, wife ! We have made our mark on this world by 
our failure. Death is the incident of a great purpose. There is a 
bright morning and a glorious day. Moderate circumstances, Mary, 
is the best blessing of this life. By poverty and failure I have been 
preserved to do this work. It is done ; and I shall see our sons 


and daughters who have gone before the three babes who were 
buried in one grave, the three grown ones who died for liberty. 
The blessing of our offered blood will follow you for all the re 
mainder of your days.* See this, Mary ! " 

He took up a newspaper and read a message from the Governor 
of South Carolina, which had just come to hand, threatening seces 
sion in the event of a " Black Republican " being elected President, 
and also a legislative act, as follows : 

" Resolved, That the State of South Carolina is ready to enter, 
together with the other slaveholding States, or such as desire pres 
ent action, into the formation of a Southern Confederacy." 

She did not understand it, or was in grief too profound to try ; 
but he explained to her that he had forced slavery to become revo 
lutionary, and made the Union of the American States the national 
cause, and involved it with the fall of slavery. 

She listened with interest at last, and so he absorbed the time 
till she was commanded to go, and his failure took the light in her 
loyal nature of a postponed success. 

Proudly she repulsed the insinuations of the smirker who assured 
her, returning to Harper s Ferry, that slavery was a gentle boon to 
white and black. 

" Every child of John Brown believes he died for the greatest 
cause in this world," she retorted, " and so do I." 

Having had his way and will to the last, John Brown went forth 
to die next day, taking no pains with his toilet, and wearing the 
same clothes in which he had fought, and an old slouched hat. He 
gave what silver change he possessed to his fellow-prisoners, and 
admonished them to die like men, and never spoke to Hazlett, lest 
the identification might be testimony against him. 

Stepping forth in the public street of Charlestown with cords 
upon his arms, the old man was indifferent to his coffin in the little 
wagon and to the movements of the military ; but when the young 
wheat in the winter fields met his gaze, and the fodder-rows of rus 
set maize, and the winding mountains in the near east, he felt the 
farmer in his blood again, and not the radical. 

" This is a beautiful country. It is the first time I have seen it 
just here." 

* She survived John Brown twenty-five years, and lived to see a statue of 
him voted by Kansas to the national capital, and his scaffold sold in pieces 
valuable as their weight in silver. 


Life swelled in his nostrils, and the sense of beauty that is the 
joy forever. He looked on those blue and mellow mountains to the 
last, thinking of nothing else, except that the boys and citizens ought 
not to have been kept from the execution-field. 

It was a privilege to see him die, beyond the death of any man 
yet known in America who had chosen the gallows for his death 
bed. Some who had looked into his genealogy thought they saw in 
his face and works signs of all the races that were united in him : 
English Puritan, Holland Dutchman, Welsh the stocks of Hamp- 
den, De Ruyter, and Jefferson. 

He climbed the scaffold first, shook off his hat, thanked all for 
favors, and over his kindly smile the death-cap was drawn. 

" I can t see, gentlemen. You must lead me," the muffled voice 
petitioned to be led to the death-trap. 

He did not desire to publicly speak, though it had been forbid 
den. The only inhumanity he suffered was the delay of the militia, 
who were made to march, countermarch, face outward and inward, 
and repel an invisible attack. There was one side of the hollow 
square left open, where the sun was shining overhead. 

" I am ready at any time," was extorted from his lips at last; 
"do not keep me \vaiting ! " 

The scaffold-trap then opened beneath his feet, like the wicket 
of heaven on golden hinges turning, and all that was erratic in the 
old man s life straightened on the silver cord that let him down into 
the bosom of the Valley. 

In after-years the armies there faced every way, to repel insidious 
Liberty seeking to come in, but it was let down from a side they had 
not thought to guard. 



LUTHER BOSLER had learned, by the John Brown raid, a lesson 
nearly forgotten among the Maryland Germans, with their other 
Pennsylvania Dutch antecedents of which was their dialect, fast 
turning into unadorned English namely, the ready money of going 
to market. 

He and his father would now rise by the moon and get the 

3 I2 


wagon ready, and when all strangers were shut out of Virginia, in 
the season of the executions there, Luther bethought him of the 
market at Baltimore, and he took Nelly and Katy along. 

It was at least forty miles, but the way seemed grand, over the 
old National road, with its remaining wagoners taverns, the hollow 
tavern-yards of Frederick City, the turbid Monocacy River, Sugar- 
Loaf Mountain in the south, the Patapsco winding in its wooded 
hills among mills and convents, and Ellicott s Town, so stately with 

They stopped part of the night at a tavern near St. Charles Col 
lege, fifteen miles out of Baltimore, and Father Hugh Fenwick, 
teaching there, showed them by moonlight the park and mansion of 
Doughoragan Manor, right opposite the college ; and there, where 
he had lived, the last survivor of the signers of the Declaration of 
Independence, Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, lay buried in his family 

The long, yellow-coated mansion, trimmed with white, its archi 
tectural balustrades and projecting wings, great servants quarters 
and many slave-cabins, its terraces of flowers and winding walks 
and mighty trees, formed a real palace amid an estate that would 
have been belittled by calling it baronial. 

Katy walked with Hugh Fenwick, and a young pupil at the col 
lege opposite, named Surratt a tall, slender, modest person ac 
companied them. The manor-house was perhaps an eighth of a 
mile in circuit, and a friendly gardener led them close enough to the 
windows to see the portraits within, and hear the various company 
there engaged with music, dance, or conversation. They started at 
one place to hear Lloyd Ouantrell s name mentioned. 

" Hush ! listen ! " Nelly Harbaugh whispered. 

" Isn t he dissipated ? " asked a woman s voice within. 

" A little, but his father says marriage will end all that," another 
lady was replying ; " and he is remarkably fine-looking, shy of ladies, 
and has a fair property in Charles County. Abel Quantrell told 
cousin that she was the only maid in Maryland beautiful enough to 
marry his son, who was a Lloyd, you know ! " 

" When is the marriage to take place ? " 

" He is with the soldiers in Virginia now, but both families are 
agreeable. Cousin fell in love with Mr. Lloyd at first sight, and he 
is so affectionate toward his father that no opposition is expected." 

Katy Bosler s eyes shone so wildly in her suddenly paled face 



that Hugh Femvick reached out to support her, but her brother al 
ready held her in his arms, murmuring : 

" Katy, it may not pe true. Tere are other men, Katy, petter for < 
my peautiful sister ! " 

The girl straightened up, and spirit flashed from her eyes. 

" I am going to see Lloyd s father in Paltimore," she said, "and 
get back my wedding-ring ! " 

She listened a little to the consolations of Hugh Fenwick as he 
took them all through the old Sulpician College, which Mr. Carroll 
had founded in his ninety-fifth year of life. Katy thought only of 
her lover, who had attended this school ; and, standing in the chapel 
before the great crucifix, she saw her priestly friend cross himself 
and mutter. 

" Tell me what to say ! " spoke Katy, in trembling, nervous 
energy. " I want to pray like Lloyd ! " 

" Say after me," Hugh Fenwick answered ; and Katy re 
peated : 

" O all ye saints of paradise, men and women ! obtain for me 
these graces These graces ? " Katy hesitated. " My gracious ! 
what is graces? Is graces what I must get to get Llo>d s 
love ? " 

" To love God alone/" Hugh Fenwick quoted from the ser 

" I can t say it now ! " Katy burst out. " It would be a sin. I 
love Lloyd alone, this wicked minute ! " 

" Love me!" Hugh Fenwick whispered, with trembling passion 
on his tongue ; " I am to be the priest of God, and will teach you 
the way of his will." 

" And all tern graces, too ? " Katy entreated. " Oh, I am igno 
rant, and te fine people in te palace won t have me amongst tern ! " 

She reached her hands up to her learned friend in helplessness 
and great solicitation, and hardly knew that he was kissing her in 
the very moment of his own invocation to love the highest One 

" I do not understand all tese names, Mr. Priest," Luther Bos- 
ler observed, as they looked over the great stone building, and heard 
the owls call. " What is Sulpician and what is Jesuit ? And which 
are you ? " 

" I am not yet ordained," Fenwick replied. " I admire the Jesuits 
for their worldly learning, and the Sulpicians for their theological 


learning. Washington city, or rather Georgetown, is the university 
and headquarters of the Jesuits ; by a miracle it was directed that 
. the American capital should be located at its gates, for the college 
preceded the capital." 

" So, if us Luterans and Reformed people had got tere first, it 
wouldn t pe a miracle ? " suggested Luther, controversially. 

"The Jesuits and Sulpicians always assisted each other, and the 
Sulpicians had the first theological seminary. They put it in Balti 
more, and put their college near Gettysburg, in Pennsylvania ; but 
it did not flourish among those old Germans, and, after the Irish be 
gan to emigrate in 1849 strongly to America, the Sulpicians removed 
to this, their only college now. I am Irish and German, Mr. Bosler, 
and my choice is not yet fully made." 

" Do not waver," Luther spoke ; " pe not of two opinions ! Love 
and religion pegin in single-mindedness." 

He looked at Nelly Harbaugh tenderly, and added : 

" Like our love, Nelly ! " 

"Oh, always believe I loved you," Nelly answered, as, she put 
her hand in Luther s. " Two ways there may be to walk in, dear, 
but two loves never ! " 

If Katy Bosler really meant to go and see Abel Ouantrell, she 
was spared a journey. As she stood with her brother in the market- 
square, in Baltimore Nelly Harbaugh reading theatre-bills on the 
bill- boards she heard a voice say : 

" Sho ! Light. Cube all your romance and it is four walls the 
same as a prison ! " 

" Stone walls can not a dungeon be, 
Nor prison-bars a cage, 

where love and romance live within them," Light Pittson replied. 
" See this beautiful group of Germans, sir. What rosy girls ! What 
a bison-like, great-eyed young man ! " 

"Young squabs, Mister Quantrell ! Winter spring - chickens ! 
Egg-plants never frosted ! New-laid eggs ! Putter ! Putter-peans ! 
And a Frederick County capon as pig as a goose ! " 

" No scrapel, Bosler ? Sho ! You Dutch forget your Pennsyl 
vania fare. No Moravian case ? No Crefeldt sausage ? What s 
the price of pepper-hash ? Light, will you like some of their mount 
ain honey ? " 

He looked down from his wig, with his mouth turned down at 



the corners, and his sardonic smile, like the last red coals in ashes, 
fell upon the two girls. " Ho ! " he spoke ; " here are peaches and 
cream ! How much for such marketing as this ? " 

" 111 sell out," cried Katy, leaning against the wagon-tail, "for 
te ring you took from Hannah Ritner. It s mine. You sha n t cheat 
me out of it ! " 

" Sho ! Rings were superfluous for love-matches when I was a 
boy in York and Adams Counties. They put a ring on the bull and 
a lawsuit on the bridegroom. They had the herd first, and the 
herd-book afterward. I wish I was a boy again ! " 

" You can pe a petter poy than I guess you ever was," replied 
Katy, " py letting your son pe honest, as he wants to pe, and 
marry me ! " 

" What ! " spoke Light Pittson ; " Lloyd in love with this child ? 
He said he had a mountain beauty; and isn t it romantic, father, 
that I should find her here, and exclaim that she was beautiful ! " 

" It is a compliment for Katy," Luther Bosler bluntly said ; " pe- 
cause you are right lovely yourself, if you may pe a little wild ! " 

" Hallo ! " exclaimed Abel Quantrell, putting his hand into his 
shirt-bosom, his market-basket at his feet, and his black boy attend 
ing him " we are cubing compliments, and I ll complete the square 
by saying that yonder is Miss Amazon herself !" 

He gazed on Nelly Harbaugh, who was nettled at Luther s un 
conscious compliment to another woman, and she replied : 

" When you got to be a right old man, I reckon there was one 
rogue the less." 

"W T hy, this is Hannah Ritner s friend, the Dunker pastor!" 
Light Pittson said. " She told his fortune, Mr. Quantrell. Can t 
you see Philip Melanchthon in his soft eyes ? And Zwinglius in his 
soldier-port ? Oh, how the East is embellished ! " 

" Ho ! sho ! " said Abel Quantrell, " I see we shall buy nothing 
here. I ll cube the matter. Bosler, send all you have to sell, to my 
house ; my boy will show you the way. And bring your girls along, 
and dine with us. Sho ! never mind the expense. I want some in 
formation from you." 

As these mountain people went through the street of Old Town. 
Baltimore, they saw against the great shot-tower there the theatre 
bill of Edwin Booth, brilliant young son of the historic tragedian, 
announcing that he was to play that night. 

" O Katy ! " Nelly whispered, "make Luther take us there." 


" No," said Katy ; " Luther is a preacher; I m a preacher s sis 
ter, and my heart s too full for te theatre, Nelly." 

"I ll ask Luther!" Nelly said, impulsively. "If he loves me 
he ll give me one chance. If he won t I m not afraid of men ! " 

When they were all seated in Abel Quantrell s library, among 
the law-books and card-tables there, after a wonderful day, Nelly 
asked to be taken to the theatre. Her spirit was feverish, and she 
felt out of place in a rich man s home before that Miss Pittson, whom 
Luther had complimented ; and she observed that Katy Bosler, with 
less intelligence, absorbed the surroundings without fear. 

" Nelly," Luther answered, " I think you do not know what te 
theatre is. It is a place where they play life, and do not work it 
out. I have come from te Plue Mountain to make a little money, 
and take it home. We are in te house of a great man, who has 
achieved education, justice, and real things ; so let us look around 
and grow wise, and save our money te theatre would get from 

" Mr. Booth said I had talent for the stage. I want to see a 
real city play. It is the call of my nature, and, if you love me, you 
will take me." 

" Yes, Luther, take her," Light Pittson interposed ; " if it is the 
call of her inspiration, you must respect it." 

" It is not te call of love, I know," said Luther ; " it is not te in 
spiration of your mountain home and poor, deserted mother, but of 
te sergeant who deserted both te army and te wife. It is te spirit 
of restlessness and change." 

" It is no worse, Luther, than your restlessness for money, that 
sends you all over the country before the chickens can crow." 

Luther replied, gently : " If I seek a little money too sinfully I 
shall be punished for it ; but te life we are to enter on, my dear, has 
all te joys of both te worlds to me of heaven and love besides. It 
has a mystery te theatre tale can not have : two hearts united in te 
family, two dispositions to be yoked together, one pelief to cultivate, 
and a grave also mutual at te end of days." 

" That is not all," the girl exclaimed ; " if some of my father s 
spirit is in me, I came by it naturally. You have refused the most 
earnest request of my life." 

" Nelly, darling, I must be consistent. I am our preacher." 

" Yes, Luther. You obey the call of your inspiration, but if I 
have one it must be smothered in my heart." 


" Nelly," the large, bearded young man spoke, tenderly, " we 
have only one inspiration, and that is love." 

She accepted his hand, but her soul was wayward, and she said 
to Light Pittson when they walked aside : 

" I have asked him, and been refused. Now I can go by my 

Abel Quantrell asked Luther Rosier all about the effect of John 
Brown s raid in mountain Maryland, and what vote the Republican 
candidate would draw there the next autumn, saying that Hannah 
Ritner, a trusted friend of liberty, had recommended Luther as a 
firm and just man. Luther heard, thoughtfully, until the fierce 
spirit of the old man suggested war as a possibility, and sought to 
incite Luther to resistance. 

"Abel Quantrell," Luther spoke at last, " there you go too far, 
like te disciple of our Lord, who drew his sword and cut off te high- 
priest s ear ; and ever since St. Peter s spirit has been in te Christian 
church, till Christ is everywhere in sound and symbol, and nowhere 
in te soul. We Baptists had our St. Peter, too, in John of Leyden, 
who took a city like John Brown, and prought upon his brethren 
generations of persecution. But Menno Simons, a former priest of 
Rome, died peaceful in his cabbage-garden with thousands thirsting 
for his plood, pecause he would not meet evil with evil. He is te 
father of all te non-resistants, Quakers and Baptists, and te first of 
all rebukers of man-holding was us." 

" Sho, sho ! Old Brown has cut off the high-priest s ear this 
time, and the priest must needs hear everything. Go preach to 
your people that Christ is for liberty." 

Katy came in at this place, and Abel Quantrell looked at her 
with steady curiosity, ending with something like approval. 

x " No wonder Lloyd fell captive to your eyes, young plover ; I 
could have taken them once to my dreams, too. Are you a Dunker, 
like Brother Luther here ? " 

" I promised to be, mister." 

" You do not believe in rebellion, then, but obey the laws and 
seek the spirit of peace and submission ? " 

" I want to pe happy," said Katy, " and to have God bless me 

" And Lloyd. You are a child yet. There is time enough for 
affection to try itself. Your brother will tell you that what I am to 
say is right." 


He came to her and sat by her side, and put his bleached hand 
upon her head, and, turning back the small forehead, her radiant 
eyes, that would be his daughter s, looked at him with the dew of 
prayer in them. 

" Are you afraid of me, Kate? " 

" No. But you are going to preak my heart." 

" Kiss me forgiveness before I do." 

She raised her chin and kissed him, and suddenly a thought, like 
coincidence, rushed through her ardent brain : 

"God gif me this soul," she cried aloud, "and let it feed with 
me of thy supper ! " 

" Amen, shwsshter ! " from Luther Bosler. 

Her arms were around Abel Quantrell with all the strength and 
affection she showed his son that love - feast Sunday, and tender 
kisses thawed his frosty lips. The magnetism of life and childhood 
entered the cold portals where once was the throne-room of a con 
queror s mind. He could not arrest her attack ; it came like Indian 
summer and its thunderstorm upon the fading head of winter. 
Luther Bosler looked on with the sensibility of brother and of priest. 

"Gif back that ring where it pelongs," sighed Katy. "Then 
God will bless you, old man, and, till you love somepody, he never 

" All hearts in all places under the blessed light of youth say it, 
each in its own language/ " * the old man repeated and explained. 

" Had I the merry devil s trick to be young Faust again, my son 
would wonder at my gallantry ! You can not kiss, my child, the 
warm blood back where it has flowed, nor by a ring revive the 
golden passion of my prime. What justice is a wasted frame, pre 
sented at the altar, and love s signet, falsified by a ceremony no nup 
tials will attend ! Sho, sho ! how few there be who work for the 
bettering of this world ! how many work to people it ! " 

" Nothing," said Luther, "can be more acceptable to our Creator 
than te sight of a well-replenished earth. If he preferred Abel s 
sacrifice of a lamb s life more than te insensible fruits of Cain, will 
he not approve te offering of a human life prought forth in all te 
piety of love and te sacrifice of pain ? " 

" That has been my lamb upon the altar. I have rendered it," 
urged Abel Quantrell. " I will not be a hollow hypocrite, and raise 
another altar to the world." 

* Goethe. 



"Mister," said Katy, " you seem to pe fighting love away. I 
know you love something, pecause it troubles you. Te ring is not 
love, I know, but it is comfortable to have, and to look at it and say, 
It s mine. What made you gif my ring of love, that made me so 
happy, to Hannah Ritner ? She told me I must git a ring and nefer 
lose it, and, when I lost it, always hunt it back." 

" You can lie, I see," the old man said, austerely. " She never 
was so weak to hunger for what she never was refused." 

" I won t let you hate me," Katy cried ; " you know I don t tell 
lies, mister. Look at me ! And this minute I would rather die and 
pe took home to my old fader dead than to lie apout my love and 
Lloyd. He loved me pefore we efer thought of any ring. Te Lord 
put te ring upon his jacket, and he found it there, and it was his 
mother s. When he gif it to me- he didn t love me more than we 
both loved a ready, but it made me happier." 

" Dunce ! " said Abel Quantrell. " Why ? " 

" Pecause pecause " 

" Cube it ! Because what ? " 

Katy blushed, and then looked up again, all beaming : 

" Pecause, mister, his love respected me, and wasn t going to 
hurt me. " 

" How could you know that ? He meant to cheat you." 

" Not with his mother s ring that was too holy. If his mother 
had nefer had a wedding-ring, he might not haf cared." 

Abel Quantrell was now excited, and the blood that would not 
start to beauty s caresses, ran to his temples at the stern alarum of 
his intellectual indignations. He rose and placed his wrinkled hand 
in the scarce whiter folds of his bosom, and paced the room in the 
spirited tread of that pagan who defied the lightnings ; yet Luther 
Bosler saw that his face was not now spiritually refined, and that 
the cane on which his lame foot relieved its burden nearly trembled 
in his grasp. 

" I will witness before every God," he said, " how false that im 
putation is that a child of love is lawless to his mother s sex, and 
only to be humanized by form and hypocrisy ! The mighty races 
of the bond and poor are thus to be tainted by the public opinion 
which refused them marriage, and the wedding-ring is to be a higher 
test of love and interest than the fond homage of separated hearts 
and offspring noble as the stag ! " 

As he stopped and stood, with erect head and trembling nostrils, 


a magnetism as of some old, gallant husband to his young bride, 
flowed toward the Bunker girl. Katy went up to him with her na 
ture aroused by his words : 

" Yes," she said, " I think I know what you mean that if people 
lose te wedding-ring, God will still let love make tern happy. I love 
your Lloyd. I can try to forget him, but God will teach me." 

" Abel," Luther Bosler said, reflectively, falling into the simple 
speech of his sect, " nobody blames te slave-people that can not 
marry and own their children, any more than them who lived with 
out te knowledge of the law of Christ had to pe judged by it. But 
all them who knew the law by the law were judged. Te slaves seek 
decently to pe married. After tey are free, some day te licentious 
ness got from living without marriage will pe their accusation. Mar 
riage is te sign of a man s respect over te world, and te due of 
woman, who is judged by her relations with man. It is te tyrant, 
in his self-love, who refuses te woman te ring, and pleads te tyranny 
of marriage for refusing it." 

The old man looked at Luther s mild brown eyes and shaggy 
beard. The rage of intellect, still uncurbed, was about to break 
forth, when he was arrested by the calm yet clerical look of his plain 
guest, firm as priestly authority : 

"I am a pastor of te Tunkers," Luther said; "I speak God s 
will and not man s. So much in you is good, so much is fierce and 
troubled like te storm, that I claim te privilege of a guest and of te 
Holy Spirit, to pray with you, my brother ! " 

Katy reached up to Abel Quantrell and kissed him fervently, 
saying : 

" Come. It is te priest." 

He hardly knew how to yield, yet he was yielding. He had but 
little experience in kneeling, yet he was kneeling. To the melting 
word of " brother " from Luther Bosler had been added the whis 
per of " father " from the Dunker girl. 

It was a Dunker girl, perchance, the old man once had loved ; a 
Dunker priest he might have been married by. Who knew but Abel 
Quantrell ? 

The prayer flowed over him like a waft from the hemlocks in 
the Green Mountains with scents of childhood ; like the purl of 
Pennsylvania brooks, bearing away a hidden scene of love and ten 
derness. The words he hardly heard ; but the chastening spirit in 
them was balm in his nostrils and well-springs in his heart. 



As they arose, others were in the library silently Edgar Pittson 
and his daughter, and Nelly Harbaugh, and Lloyd Quantrell. 

Katy looked at her lover but did not move, feeling that judgment 
was suspended over them and the parental law. 

Luther Bosler stood among the statesman s books and prints, in 
his wool coat and rough boots, and long hair and beard ; he drew 
his sister to his heart and looked around upon them all senator and 
reformer, son and heir. 

"Friends," he proceeded, "we are poor Germans who try to 
make no trouble. We have as little ampition as we can. Lloyd 
came a-gunning and stopped with us a bit. We didn t enfy him 
anything he had his watch, nor gun, nor fine clothes, nor money 
but he and sister fell a-loving. It s not te rule of our church ; but 
love is a sheep that jumps etery fence. Lloyd has a manly, loving 
nature, and Katy couldn t help hearing what he said, down in her 
pig child s heart. Her heart-strings are tender yet ; and I must 
take her away pefore tey get sore for life. I am her pastor and her 
brother. She will do what Lloyd s father temands. Abel, tell 
her ! " 

Lloyd looked worn and wretched. His eyes were turned on 
Katy, and she looked at him with wo and submission and pity 
greater than for herself. 

" Sho, sho ! young sparrows," Abel Quantrell spoke, looking at 
both like the judge who is to divorce the mismated, " take out the 
square root of small figures and the surgery is safe. Sixteen and 
Twenty-two are not fit for life s responsibilities. I have laid on my 
son the injunction, and he has given me the promise Miss Katy will 
respect, I know to wait one year from spring. In that time you are 
not to communicate with each other ! Lloyd has given no attention 
to ladies, and must look around him and cultivate the sex. You can 
not cube life blindly." 

There was a pause. The sentence had been less severe than 
Katy expected. The promise was only for a year, and not forever; 
but Nelly Harbaugh, alert to the subject of woman s equality, spoke 
out : 

" I suppose Katy is to look around, too. She doesn t go a-beg 
ging up our way." 

Lloyd grew pale to hear this ; but Katy, never taking her eyes 
from him, cried : 

" I wasn t a-begging when Lloyd come first, neither ; but I guess 



he didn t have much trouble finding me a-ready. I m only goin on 

" Father," Lloyd Ouantrell spoke, " I have waited years for your 
commands. The first one cuts me deep, but I obey you, sir. I will 
spend the time trying to find some career ; and if my heart is 
changeable, some one may take Katy s place. I will not be stub 
born ; but the past two months have been the first 1 ever knew of 
love, and they may never be effaced from my life." 

He stopped with a long, inhaled breath, on which there rolled a 
groan toward his heart. 

" Lloyd ! " sobbed Katy, answering the painful sound with its 
echo and a flood of tears. 

Nelly Harbaugh took Katy s head into her embrace, and wiping 
Katy s eyes, muttered : 

" Heartless old man ! " 

Luther Bosler did not move ; but his eyes were filmed with sym 
pathy, and Light Pittson went to his side impulsively. 

Lloyd Quantrell was too strong-natured to express his pain more 
than an instant, and, rallying with some pride, he addressed his 
father, while Senator Edgar Pittson held his hand : 

" Father, to complete my obedience to my parents, I must re 
member my mother s pride of family, that you have already reminded 
me of, as her only sin. There is a spot, I hear an old one, some 
generations back upon the family where you have picked me a 

" Beware, Lloyd ! " said Abel Quantrell, instantly moved. 

" I recognize your right, my dear father, to say where I shall not 
marry. I would die, sir, rather than put a stigma upon your noble 
name. Not a word you have ever spoken of your early trials, pov 
erty, and humble family, but has been cherished in my brain as 
testimony of the pure fountain that flows down to me. I am so 
jealous of that, sir, I can not permit even you to say where I shall 
marry, if it mixes my mother s blood with the remotest suspicion of 

" Be silent, ruffian ! " the father commanded, in terrible excite 
ment. Lloyd hesitated, not knowing where he had offended. 

" Let him explain," Senator Pittson quietly said. 

" Yes ; he shall express the chivalry that is in him, and that I 
feel all through me, also, papa ! " Light Pittson cried. 

" Surely I can tell what my mother would have turned her face 



against," Lloyd continued. " Dear Light, here, will forgive the 
story, if Katy s pure heart does. It is related in Maryland that in 
one generation the father and the mother did not marry till their son, 
more sensitive to their situation than themselves, refused to return 
to his country and accept their boundless wealth, until they would 
give him, also, the marriage rite. It was very long ago. Proud 
generations have intervened, with earls, and dukes, and kings for 
sons and sons-in-law ; but I am so proud to be the son of Abel 
Quantrell and his honest wife that I refuse, father, to take that 
blemish into our house, though the best blood in the world may have 
washed it out ! " 

H finished, all flushed and stalwart, the powerful moral an 
tithesis and physical reminder of that Faulconbridge in Shakespeare 
who rejoiced in the blemish of his birth. Republican self-respect, 
which is the greatest aristocracy in the world, frowned now from 
his small gladiator s brow, and his strong jaws were shut, and his 
gray-green eyes looked as bold and greedy as some rude Bayard or 
other unlettered knight in the days of setting-to. 

" I glory in his principles ! " Light Pittson cried. 

" You, too ? " old Abel Quantrell spoke, turning on Light Pittson. 
" You know not what you say ! " 

"Sir," Light answered, spiritedly, "you have not your son s 
sensibility. Surely I can understand the pride of pure descent and 
unstained pedigree ! My father is a gentleman, too." 

They were all attracted and alarmed now, by the exceeding pal 
lor and lifelessness of countenance on old Abel Quantrell. He stood 
beneath his dead-black wig, like the fabled pillar of salt, looking 
back and stricken into stone. He seemed to seek to articulate, but 
could not. Pride faded in his face, while yet most obdurate and 

" Go, friends ! Go, Lloyd, also ! " Edgar Pittson spoke. " He 
has nothing more to say." 

They left the room wondering, and Edgar Pittson closed the 

The old man still stood there, as if he had died upon his feet, 
his under lip folded hard upon the square lip above, his hand in his 
bosom, his long, straight nose like the stem of a galley in the storm 
of fate. 

" Sit down," said Edgar Pittson, kindly. " There be composed ! 
We can not afford to lose you yet." 



The old man breathed, and all his countenance broke in its fixed 
lines like the shivering of glass. There remained a panting, failing, 
broken-spirited man. 

" You have a fine son there," Edgar Pittson said, soothingly. " I 
fear you did wrong not to let Nature do her work in that young 
couple. What is it, after all, but the replenishing instinct of life, 
which gives color and romance to everything, and takes a thousand 
aberrations ? " 

" Edgar, I can not hear you say that word to me. Do you ac 
cuse me ? " 

" I ? Why, never ! God has blessed us, and will bless us more. 
Thou strong fountain of my life and parent of all my best em6tions ! 
take wine and oil from my unworthy youth, and feel I love and honor 
you forever, O my Father ! " 



LUTHER BOSLER was very tired, and, having to drive the girls 
home all the next day, he went early to bed. 

Nelly Harbaugh had been comforting Katy, and Luther had 
given Light Pittson an account of the romantic Bunkers, who never 
went to law, and were the detestation of lawyers and constables. 
Nelly was no more appeased by her betrothed taking notice of this 
stranger, than by his making no further reference to her curiosity 
about the theatre. 

She was piqued in her own nature that this established city so 
ciety did not interest her, nor yet put her at ease. Wild and rebell 
ious promptings came to her, and received instigation from the set- 
tied fact that Lloyd Ouantrell and his friends were not to come to 
Catoctin Valley any more. She had bantered Lloyd upon the hol- 
lowness of his pledge to his father, and his indignant loyalty to that 
pledge, satisfied her that the city people were to leave Catoctin Val 
ley to its quietude and routine, its corn-planting and wood-hauling, 
manuring and liming, cattle-fattening and distilling, hoeing and har 

She shrank from the recollection of her lonely patch of ground, 


the consciousness that all her meaner, worldlier suitors had been 
dismissed, and from the shadow of that Dunker life closing in upon 
her, with regular attendance on church, responsibility in the " fami 
ly," or Dunker congregation, and loss of all admiration, coquetry, 
and adventure. 

" Oh," she thought, " if I had the temptation here in Baltimore 
that pressed me so hard in my little cottage but a few nights past,, 
what might I not do where might I not go ? " 

Yet what oppressed her most was love. That plain, deep-slum 
bering man in the next room, had power over her self-reliant nature. 
If he would only break away from his dull, unambitious, progress- 
stunting sect, and lead her to the theatre now, and to-morrow to 
the great capital city, hardly two hours journey away, and bathe 
his strong sense in the dyes of illusion and cultivation, what stuffs 
and scarlets might the shuttle of their union not weave in a busy 
future, where wealth, activity, and following would be traced across 
their children s prospects, like the marvelous checkered quilt at Bos- 
ler s farm, that was to be the regalia of her wedding-bed ! 

These thoughts, and the growing darkness of evening, frightened 
her. Maidenhood, independence, admiration, self-love, temptations, 
were all to end within another fortnight ; and they had already pur 
chased, that day, the preparations for their housekeeping. 

She started up and looked in Luther s door. He had lain down 
in his clothes, to be the earlier ready for the long-aching ride of the 

She went down stairs. In one room Senator Pittson and Abel 
Ouantrell were playing cards, and took no notice of her ; in an 
other, Katy Bosler was enjoying the last night before their separa 
tion, with Lloyd Ouantrell strengthening him, who was the weaker 

Nelly found in the library Light Pittson, reading a book called 
" Shakespeare." 

" Medicine ? " asked Nelly, concerning the subject of the book, 
" or what Luther calls The Holler Gee ? " 

" No," Light Pittson laughed again and again. " This, Miss Har- 
baugh, is neither the holler gee nor the holler whoa, but the plays 
of a Mr. William Shakespeare." 

The country girl looked resentment at this reminder of her ig 

" Oh ! " said she, " now I remember my dear friend, John Wilkes 



Booth the great actor, you know did mention a name like Shake 

" I am just reading The Merchant of Venice/ that Mr. Edwin 
Booth is to play here to-night," Light said. " I have never seen 
Shakespeare well acted, and they say this young man is the greatest 
genius of his time." 

" Read some to me," Nelly Harbaugh asked, her curiosity tri 
umphing over a certain hostility to the younger woman, who had 
the promise of stature like Nelly s own, with a roundness and ma 
ternal endowment the mountain-girl had not. 

"With delight," Miss Pittson replied; "the stage is a favorite 
pleasure I anticipate in Washington, and I should like so much to 
know a great actor." 

Miss Light read, with school-girl eloquence and gusto, the inter 
esting text, where she selected it, at Jessica s flight from her father. 
The style of elocution Nelly critically noted, reflecting how much 
better she could do than the senator s daughter, as Light recited : 

" In such a ni^ht 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew ; 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice." 

" Give me that book," Nelly called, overbearingly. " I can read 
it better." 

She glanced over the lines which succeeded, and, standing up, 
recited, with strong energy : 

" In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well ; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
And ne er a true one." 

" Why, that is wonderful ! " cried Light. " I think you might 
make an actress. Where did you learn to read ? " 

"In the plow-field," replied Nelly, bitterly, "hollering at a bor 
rowed horse that would r\otgee." 

Light burst out laughing, and laughed against her will. 

" Won t you excuse me ? " she pleaded. " I was thinking of some 

" What ? " 

" Oh, never mind it." 

" You was thinking of The Holler Gee, I reckon, miss ? " Nelly 
questioned, grimly. " Well, that theolergy is all I am to read, if I 



marry the preacher up-stairs. He won t read plays. Come, let us 
go to the theatre alone, and see this piece ! " 

" Alone ! why, it is dangerous. Surely, you dare not do that ! " 

" You will see," Nelly Harbaugh replied ; and left the room, all 
flushed with Light Pittson s praise of her reading. 

In a few minutes she came down in her manifestly country dress, 
almost absurdly and cheaply flounced ; her gay bonnet trimmed with 
bright berries and " loud " common flowers, her blanket shawl and a 
peddler s mixing of winter and summer, that would have made a cari 
cature of less than her fine height, bright skin, and her expression 
of reserve and decision. 

" I can pay my admission," the girl said ; " I won t pay yours, 
but you can come along." 

" You are dreadful, Miss Nelly ! Surely, you have some acquaint 
ance there." 

" You can keep my secret, if you want to ! " the girl said, defi 
antly. " I may come back." 

She had never been to other than a strolling company s perform 
ance, or that of amateurs, at Harper s Ferry or Frederick, and was 
innocent of the bold act she was to do, at that demoralized date, of 
taking a cheap seat in the highest tier of a city theatre. She stopped 
to look at the Booth dwelling in Exeter Street, turned the corner, 
and followed the tide of people up a parallel street to a great, lighted 
building, with its back against a dark sluice or sewer running 
through the city. Her money was gripped tightly in her hand, and 
she was confused by the number of entrances and the files of people 
going to the ticket-boxes. 

Where is the cheap place ? " she asked a policeman, who was 
eying her at the curbstone. 

" The Third tier. You don t mean that ? " 

"Yes, the cheapest place." 

He took her along the side of the building toward the smelling 
sewer or creek, where only one lamp split the almost solid mist with 
its rays. 

" I haven t seen you before," the officer said, still looking at her 
closely. "When did you turn out ? " 

" I just came this morning," Nelly answered ; " I wanted to see 
Mr. Booth play. I m acquainted with his brother." 

"Johnny? Ah ! now I see." 

She paid the quarter of a dollar for a ticket, and began to climb 


dimly lighted stairs, where troops of wild boys went past her halloo 
ing, and she wondered if she would ever reach the top. Her heart 
failed a little, but she persevered, saying to herself that she could at 
least look a little while, and slip back to Luther and the snug com 
fort of her bedroom, and never be found out. 

When she reached the top she looked down upon a great depth 
of seats in tiers thousands in number as it seemed to her and at 
gilded galleries and carved side-boxes in faded gold, and at the 
green curtain hanging there like the window-blind of another land 
and world, so suggestive in its blankness, so large to be so una 
dorned, all faces directed toward it like an oracle of the antique na 
tions, and silent in its green eye as the stagnant lake that harbors 
the crocodile. 

So was it, and so it was to be : that mimic world between this 
world and both the worlds to come, so seductive and so deadly : joy 
of the senses, rest of the inquests of toil and intellect, framework of 
folly and of grandeur, home of genius and of deceit. It lifted the 
mind to heaven, and sunk the habits to the shadows of hell. It 
made shame and ignorance look angelic, like peddler s jewels in 
pinchbeck gold, and gave subtlety and witchcraft their inspiration and 
reward ; raining on the gypsy plaudits from the purest, and tingeing 
with some gloss of scholarship and chivalry the mere bully and Al 

There, behind the mystic baize, the school-boy conspirators were 
conning their little tasks and painting their faces now, trying on 
their greasy wigs, lacing their paper bodices, making ready their 
fickle furniture and wooden fruit and food, and shifting their coarse 
scenery to where the lamps and reflectors would make it cheat like 
nature s sheen of dew and sunshine. 

And there, in a not distant morrow, in this same theatre where 
Nelly looked, the ruling conspiracy of government, the great Demo 
cratic party, was to play its last scene, and divide like Caesar s assas 
sins ; and, in four years more, the actors of the opposite and suc 
ceeding party were, in this theatre in Baltimore, to give the sword 
of war and peace a second time to the ruler as yet unknown, who 
was to be and to be not, walking like Enoch with the ideal, and by 
this ideal treacherously taken.* 

* In Front Street Theatre, Baltimore, 1860, met the Democratic National 
Convention ; in the same theatre, 1864, Abraham Lincoln was renominated by 
the Republican National Convention. 



Nelly looked around her, and she was astonished and alarmed. 
The bare, steep-pitched, low-roofed tier she sat in, was a dense mass 
of boys and men, huddled together, peering over, exchanging oaths 
and nicknames, some intoxicated, some already asleep, some full of 
street wit, others ravenous as if they could gnaw the wooden 
benches, so spasmodic and fierce were they in everything. Some 
were without coats, many had not been combed ; police of some 
kind, also common and fierce, disciplined the most disorderly; and 
Nelly looked for some place where a woman might have privacy in 

There were also women there, the strangest people in the tier. 
For a brief moment Nelly thought they were extravagantly dressed 
ladies. Their " loud " feathers and velvet trains, powder and rouge, 
and freedom of manners and of charms, appeared to the mountain 
orphan the very splendor of society ; but a second look, a burst of 
laughter, and a word that seemed from women s public lips to in 
vite God s lightnings down, froze Nelly s blood ! 

Where was she ? What were these ? Dare she stay one mo 
ment longer here ? 

" Hush ! " a loud whispered command came ; " get down, all of 
you ! The curtain is up." 

She found a place to crouch down at the top of the tier. The 
next person to her was an old Eastern Shoreman, with a chin which 
seemed to run down his collar, and be a mere wrinkle of his loose 
neck ; and he was asleep, and said occasionally : " Luff off ! luff ! 
P int on the beam ! " In course of time this melancholy man would 
droop his head on Nelly s shoulder, but she felt protected by his 
honest obliviousness, and all her soul was in the play. 

The first words met her sensibility like tones of sympathy : 

" In sooth, I know not why I am so sad : 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you." 

So spoke the merchant Antonio, soon joined by his noble friends, 
all dressed in rich attires with comely hose. 

" Your mind is tossing on the ocean," 

one of them says, and so was Nelly s. Then Bassanio, the lover, 
borrows the merchant s money to wed Portia, and Nelly felt the de 
scription to be her complement : 

" Her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece." 



Portia and her maid, and the caskets of gold, silver, and lead, 
Nelly saw like wondrous apparitions ; and then came in the piercing 
eyes and pointed face, like jewels set in flesh, of Edwin Booth, as 
the Jew usurer, at only twenty-six years of age, his youth revealed 
in his fine limbs and crafty ankles, his head alert and manly every 
where, life set in him on silken nerves, and character inlaid with 
strange translucencies like gold and tortoise-shell. 

He had decision like the wasp s in rage, and grace like the young 
cock at morning striding the poultry world. Something subtle was 
woven in his manliness like guile in the pagan gods. 

Beauty and terror seized the country girl as this disguised 
Apollo spun his deadly mesh around Antonio, and bound him in a 
pound of tiesh to repay the loan of friendship. 

" P int on the beam ! Luff hard ! " the oysterman at her side 
muttered, looking at Nelly idiotically, and asking : 

" Whair we dropped anchor ? P inted whair ? " 

He gazed at her awhile, and was again asleep, nodding, and now 
the curtain rose once more upon the Jew s abode and most unfilial 
daughter Jessica. 

Nelly s sensitive excitement, seeking everywhere for her excuse 
and rebellion, made Jessica in her mind the likeness of herself, and 
Shylock s avarice her lover s disposition. She heard the Jew s serv 
ant say : 

" Launcelot, budge not ! Budge ! says the fiend ; budge 
not, says my conscience. . . . To run away from the Jew, I should 
be ruled by the fiend." 

Who was Nelly thinking of as "the fiend " ? She stared at the 
play as if it were another work of Hannah Ritner, the conjurer. 

Now came " the fiend " of Jessica in beautiful Lorenzo ; and at 
first Nelly thought it was Mr. John Booth, so much alike, to unprac- 
ticed eyes, do actors look in their mecliasval clothes and dazzling 
powdered and penciled faces, and she was not soon convinced of 
tne contrary, as Lorenzo took Jessica s secret letter, saying she 
would rob her father and fly with the actor, who thus excused her : 

" And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
Unless she do it under this excuse 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew." 

Why did Nelly recall her recreant father, and accuse herself of 
his wayward blood ? Alas ! the well-deserving never stigmatize 


their ancestors, but in the crimes of these the willful seek incen 
tive ! 

Then Shylock s penurious soul and habits in his household 
seemed to comfort the country girl : 

" What, Jessica ! thou shalt not gormandize, 
And sleep and snore and rend apparel out, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street. 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house ! By Jacob s staff, I swear, . . . 
Fast bind ! fast find ! " 

All this seemed Luther Bosler s early rising, rebuke of morning 
sleep and worldly apparel and of holiday joys, while " By Jacob " 
seemed to mean Jake Bosler, with his everlasting " Bi m-by." Yet 
Nelly s rage had the heart-burn in it, and she wondered why Jessica 
could sing : 

" Let me, then, in wanton play 
Sigh and gaze my soul away? 

The daughter of Shylock slipped down from the casement with her 
father s plunder and fell into Lorenzo s arms, who protested for her 
the compliment so soothing to Nelly : 

" For she is wise, 
And fair she is, 
And true she is ; 

And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul." 

"Why," Nelly thought, as the curtain rolled down upon this 
praise of deceit, " the people applaud that girl s ingratitude, though 
she dishonors her old father ! And so do I ! So does her lover re 
ward her with his constancy ! " 

" Luff ! " the Eastern Shoreman muttered, awakened by the ap 
plause. " What ! not slipped anchor yit ? " He stared at her in a 
melancholy way a while, and then began to pucker and to cry. 

" What s the matter, sir? " Nelly asked. 

" I got a darter big as you," the man replied. " If she was hyar, 
I d cry. I ll cry fur you. I ll give you her quarter. Take it, pooty, 
an luff off." 

He had a quarter of a dollar in his hand. She was about to repel 
it, when she saw men and women looking on, and, to stop his snivel 
ing, she took the silver and put it in her pocket. Avarice rose up 


at that moment, and she thought, " I have seen the show for noth 

The rising curtain showed young Edwin Booth, all fired to his 
mettle, cursing his daughter s flight till Nelly s blood ran cold, and 
thanking God for Antonio s losses and shipwrecks ; yet in the crude 
girl s ear the glory of the actor s art put down the human interest, 
and started the wild passion, -too often impelled on slippery virtue, 
to be an actress like Portia, who next took the scene as custodian 
of her dead father s casket, in which her husband and her fortune 
lay for her suitors to choose. " Of course," thought Nelly, " Bas- 
sanio will choose the gold casket, as it is worth the most." He 
chose the leaden one, and made Nelly reflect, " Is that my dull lover, 
with the leaden eyes and sure instinct of right ? " But Portia s 
speech again inspired Nelly s ambition, and seemed to reason with 
her country fears, as Portia declaimed : 

" I, an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpracticed, 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn." 

The ring which Portia gives her engaged lover awoke the coun 
try girl s superstitions as resembling Katy Bosler s lost pledge ; and 
next she saw the chaste Portia, too, take secret flight, fresh from 
her marriage vows, and treacherous Jessica installed in Portia s pal 
ace. The play-maker in his sectarian uncharity was rewarding evil- 
doing, and confirming a worldly course in at least one of his audi 

" What time is it, sir ? " asked Nelly, as the curtain fell on act 
the third. 

" Ten ; but I sha n t go. Luff away from me now. I m o fam 
ily ! " 

He raised his voice, and half the people of the tier looked where 
they sat. 

" I must go if it s ten o clock. Don t cry out so ! " Nelly said. 

" She won t luff," loudly whined the tipsy oysterman. " She ll 
run me down, and I ve sot my lanterns by the law. I ve got my 
own family, but she ll run me down ! " 

Nelly gazed at the man in wonder and alarm. Her intuitions 
were quick as her necessity; for people were running over the 
benches and crowding down the steep, narrow aisles to see the oc 
casion for an altercation, and she saw among these overwilling wit- 


nesses some women unescorted, and giggling childishly. It thus 
occurred to Nelly that this poor man had mistaken her for such as 
those female frequenters of the place, and was under the temptation 
of her beauty, which his conscience was resisting in the shouting 
Methodist way, general to his peninsula. 

" Let me pass ! The man is crazy ! " Nelly called in the tem 
pered boldness of her fear and indignation. 

" She took my money," piped the man s high, quavering voice, 
" but she won t luff off ! " 

A terrible word began to sound through that high, steaming, 
whispering loft : 

" Thief ! " " She s a thief ! " " He says she took his money ! " 

A thousand eyes seemed to stare at the girl ; she could discern 
the people below turning their backs to the curtain and throwing 
their faces upward to look for the commotion, and opera-glasses 
from the boxes and front stalls were pointed toward her. 

Despair was fast freezing her tongue to her throat. She saw 
herself the subject of a police item in the morning, the inhabitant 
all night of a police-station, rejected of her lover and his family, and 
flung back into the mountains like a crippled bird, never to fly nor 
renew its plumage again. 

In this appalling instant a person, about whom something seemed 
familiar, though Nelly in her excitement took no heed of him, pushed 
right through the motley people to Nelly s side, and seized the East 
ern shoreman and hurled him up the aisle, and sat down by Nelly, 
exclaiming loudly : 

" It s nothin but a drunken man with the delirium tremens." 

The fickle crowd set on the Eastern Shoreman, and chased him 
down the stairs into the street. 

" Silence, there, all of you ! The curtain s rung up," an officer 
cried, looking down on Nelly and her deliverer. 

She determined to go the moment she was unobserved, and 
breathed a kind of prayer to God and her mother that, if they would 
only let her depart in safety, she would join the Dunker fold, and 
grudge the world its snares and excitements no more ; but some 
thing in the splendid act below held her spell-bound : the Jew with 
scales and knife confronted the merchant to cut his heart s flesh 
out at the award of the duke of the country. Young Edwin Booth 
was now in the nervous exaltation of his art, and spoke this unin 
tended picture of the slave system of America : 


" You have among you many a purchased slave 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts 
Because you bought them ; shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ; 
Why sweat they under their burdens ? 
You will answer, 

The slaves are ours ; so do I answer you : 
The pound of flesh is mine ! " 

Thus Shakespeare, universal as the sun, had thrown his prophetic 
glance upon the Dred-Scott decision, made in young Booth s genera 
tion by a Marylander as chief justice of the whole republic, that 
slaves " had no rights which the white man was bound to respect." 
Emphatic applause shook the great theatre, for Shylock had been 
confirmed by nearly a full American bench. 

How Nelly s heart bounded in ecstasy and envy to hear Portia, 
the woman, in the disguise of a lawyer, plead for the stay of such 
insensate law : 

" Mercy is above the sceptered sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings." 

So was it, for the audience loudly approved this sentiment, also, 
and most eminently where the poorest people sat; and they, being 
the majority, were the " enthroned." Nelly forgot her prayer, the 
time, her fears, and everything but that most vivid scene of one 
law-authorized usurer whetting his knife to cut the bankrupt s 
heart out, and nothing but woman s wit and skill to stay the mur 

The woman-lawyer triumphed. The butcher departed, foiled 
and beaten and broken-hearted, and his wealth confiscated to his 
false child. 

The gallant actor wrung from every condition in that theatre a 
meed of approbation subtile as his own art, some approving of Shy- 
lock s fate and some of the artist s skill to make him hateful yet 
imposing. The act closed with the surrendering of Portia s ring to 
the lawyer, in whose part her husband had not known her : 

" You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
That you would wear it till the hour of death, 
And that it should lie with you in the grave ; 
Even so void is your false heart of truth." 


No ring had Nelly Harbaugh of Luther Bosler but the ring of 
loving arms and his rugged kiss. She thought on Katy s lost ring, 
and on her own mutiny and loss of honorable faith, and started, 
pale-faced, to retrieve her husband. 

It was too late. 

The new person who had taken the seat by her side whispered 
to her. What he said was so low and familiar that it drove from 
her mind every safeguard of forethought or prudence, and awakened 
the spirit which was wont to draw down the old gun in her cabin 
and march insulters to her gate. 

She looked at the man. 

It was one of the Logans, the slave-hunters of the mount 

He repeated his insinuation, having, no doubt, recognized her as 
from his own neighborhood, where she enjoyed more than a local 
fame for beauty. 

The spirit of the poor white race, that always disdained the slave- 
buyer, sprang to Nelly s temples. 

" You think you re talking to a nigger, I reckon," she exclaimed, 
in uncontrollable rage. " Take your change ! " 

She slapped his mouth with all that strength manual labor some 
times gives to women. The blow resounded like a pistol-shot. 

The coward, smarting with the pain, struck her with his fist. 

The gallery-gods raised the cry of " fight," and the officer present 
arrested both Nelly and her degraded neighbor, and passed them 
over to the same policeman who had shown Nelly to the gallery- 

They were marched to a station-house, followed by a motley 

Indifference and despair now seized upon the orphan girl the 
transitional emotion from her combativeness. She gave up the fu 
ture and the past, cunning and repentance, love and hope, and stood 
before the committing clerk or sergeant, pale, beautiful, and cold. 

They took from a cell the poor old melancholy Eastern Shore 
man, now sobered by mortification, and he testified that she had 
neither robbed him nor addressed him, and he wished to pay her 
fine, with tears in his eyes. 

Nelly refused his kindness with contempt. 

" I don t want to keep you here all night," the committing offi 
cial said, " nor do I want to turn you out, lest you might do worse. 


This seems to have been your first appearance in that part of the 
theatre. Give your name ! " 

"Never," replied Nelly Harbaugh. "I have only gone to the 
theatre and protected myself. This exposure is ruin enough. I will 
answer nothing." 

The police people began to feel interested ; but the girl saw that 
their pity was not for one they supposed to be respectable. Her 
motive to go alone to the theatre was above their understanding, 
she perceived ; and thus the purest motive which could inspire so 
bold and ignorant a step the motive of pure intellect had brought 
her to the inexplicable depths of a false position. 

The brilliant scene at the theatre an instant before, the splendid 
adventure of woman in Portia, to take a lawyer s part, the late ela 
tion of spirits and of ambition in Nelly, had been like the lightning 
at the precipice, hurling woman deeper down. 

A sense of universal injustice swept over the poor stranger. 
Her lover had refused to consider her intellectual nature ; her father 
had abandoned her ; her very name was not her own, but her poor 
mother s maiden legacy. 

" If you will not tell your name you must stand committed for 
disorderly conduct. I do not insist what name you shall give," the 
kindly official said. 

The rough, real interest in his tones, and other compassionate 
eyes looking on, swayed her fierce feelings, and she could neither 
advance nor recede. 

" Oh ! cowards, men everywhere ! " she cried, in a gush of tears 
and passion, and throwing her head upon the rail that barred her 
from the clerk, her hair fell to the floor like Jupiter s insidious shower 
of gold. 

Strong, firm steps came up the bare floor. 

A voice spoke to the magistrate : " Here is a mistake, or an out 
rage ! What charge is against this lady ? " 

" I have offered to release her if she will give her name. She 
will not give even a false name." 

" I will answer for her. It is a respectable girl from the country, 
unacquainted with the city s spoiled places, and desiring nothing 
worse than to see a play at my invitation. Take down the name of 
Miss Nelly Starr, of Belair, Harford county." 

She turned and saw the fine, intrepid face, and graceful, genteel 
figure of John Booth. 


" My deliverer ! My only friend ! " cried Nelly, held in his mus 
cular arms and respectfully drawn to his breast, like Jessica to 
Lorenzo, and kissed once in manly compassion with the barest 
tremor of affection. 

" Enter Miss Starr s name. Discharged on Mr. John Wilkes 
Booth s recognizance ! Take this man Logan s fine, and throw him 
out of the building ! " 

As Logan passed Nelly and Mr. Booth on the street, his chagrin of 
animal and social expectations vented itself in one unfortunate remark : 

" Run away with a fancy actor, heigh ? " 

Booth had knocked him into the street before his sentence was 
well finished. 

" Kill him ! kill him ! " commanded the girl, her intense feel 
ings breaking in the fierce shout for blood and reparation. 

The slave-catcher was followed up by the actor s cool, enjoying, 
and skilled pugilism, tumbled over every time he arose, headed off 
at every point of escape, and finally he ran back into the station- 
house for protection. 

" Do you know that he has bruised your face the coward ! " 
Booth said, panting, as he walked along. "Your friends can t see 
you for a week with that scar. The officer at the theatre had sent 
for me, suspecting that you had made a mistake in going into that 
vile gallery, Nelly, and he said you mentioned my name to him. 
How natural that you should think of me ; for you have been in my 
mind all day ! Come in ! " 

He led the way into an oyster-house, and to a private room up 
the stairs. She thanked him with gratitude and pride. 

" You, John to think of me with all your prospects and acquaint 
ances ? Oh, is it true, or made believe ? " 

" I love you," replied the actor, in tones low and firm, articulated 
like chimes of steel, and his dark eyes shining the eloquence of 
passion. " I feel my fate in your untrained and strong maturity. You 
can nbt evade me, Nelly. I demand that you feel my will and love 
me, now." 

He took her hands in his, and held her off, and looked his 
strength and gentleness together, and slowly drew her to him. 

" I have earned a kiss of real affection. I must have it." 

He clasped her to his athletic frame, still in the manly tingling 
of the conflict with her enemy, and ardent with victory and invincible 
masculine resolution. 



The old gun of her father was not above the door ; her strength 
of citadel and rural independence was gone. He kissed her in her 
betrothed one s place and with a betrothed one s confidence. 

" Your name is Nelly Starr hereafter ; for you are to be my star, 
and play such parts as Portia to me. I am going to Belair to 
study, and you shall be my pupil there ; and so I gave your residence 
to the police as at that haunt of my childhood where our family 
grew up. All arrangements are made. I am to be the only Booth 
in the Southern States, and make my fortune there. Waiter, some 
wine and terrapin ! " 

" You do admire me, John ? Can you even love me ? " 

" I swear, Nelly, to be devoted to you alone to lay my youth 
before your beauty, and to cherish and worship you ! All that you 
can learn shall be taught you. All the career I can reach, you shall 
share and conquer in , but my admiration is not equal to my love. 
Your stalwart beauty has been walking in my dreams like the long 
shadow you cast upon the valley as you walk at sunrise on your 
mountains. Begin the world anew, with people worthy of your 
queenly endowments and a gentleman for your lord and knight ; and 
that the disgraceful past may be forever behind you, come to my 
arms and heart at once, with faith and perfect love ! " 

It was not yet day at Abel Quantrell s residence when Luther 
Bosler came down the stairs with Katy, his to-be-banished sister, 
and wondering where Nelly could be. 

Light Pittson came out of the library to meet them. 

" Has she not returned ? " Light queried. " I have waited all 
night to let her in. There is some one knocking now." 

She opened the door, and a boy appeared with a letter for Miss 
Kate Bosler. 

" Oh, gracious ! read it, Miss Light," spoke Katy ; " I can t read 
writing fery well. It must be from Lloyd." 

Light turned up the lamp, and Katy read these blurred, mis 
spelled lines : 

" Darling, good-by ! I expect some day to be your sister, when 
Luther loves me more than money and his Dunker dunces. Tell 
him he can not become so ambitious, but I will try to rise worthy 
of him in mind ; for God knows I shall love him forever, whether I 
be good or evil. NELLY." 


Luther stood with his whip in hand and robe across his arm, 
staggering and pale against the door. 

" She has gone," he said ; " I am punished for loving money too 
sinfully. Hannah Ritner predicted te yellow star would fade at 
morn. It is just morning, Katy. I feel my heart is proken ! " 

He was comforted in the arms of Katy and of Light Pittson. 

" I will kiss you a better morning, dear friend," Light Pittson 
said, " and a wife more worthy of your sincere nature." 

With that kiss upon his brow, Luther drove out of Baltimore, 
silent and resigned, yet with a great emptiness in his breast. 

He did not know that from an upper window, as he went by, 
Nelly Harbaugh was gazing down, at hollow dawn, with streaming 
eyes and misery unrelieved by resignation. 



THE executions at Charlestown ended in the middle of March, 
1860, with Stevens and Hazlett going manfully to death. Three 
months before this, four of Brown s men were executed in one day 
the two negroes, Green and Copeland, an hour earlier than Cook 
and Ned Coppock. These latter, the night before death, made an 
attempt to escape, which might have been successful but for the 
accident of Ouantrell, Booth, and Atzerodt being in an office across 
the way, amusing some friends. 

Ouantrell had Katy Bosler s accordion, playing airs, and Booth 
recited ballads and scraps from plays, while Atzerodt was the cup 
bearer, and ran errands to the tavern. He came up-stairs, crying : 

" Py Jing ! I saw a man s head git on te jail-wall ! " 

Booth, who had made the punishment of these men a fierce if 
gratuitous duty, at once ran down and notified the guard. A watch 
was set, and this time two heads instead of one appeared, and a 
man, identified by all as Cook, leaped on the wall, and was menaced 
by the guard below with his bayonet. 

" Jump on him, John, and bear him to the ground ! " the whisper 
of Coppock came up from the jail-yard. 


Cook hesitated, and the guard also seemed dazed. 

" Let them escape, boys," Ouantrell whispered, where he and his 
companions crouched together; "think how young they are, like 
ourselves ! That guard may have been tampered with." 

" No, sir," Booth retorted, " no mercy to them ! " but, before he 
could raise the alarm, Atzerodt, with the avarice for a reward, 
sprang up and shouted : 

" You tarn guard, why don t you fire ? " 

" Murder ! Escape ! Treason ! " cried Booth. 

The guard now threatened the prisoners, and they dropped be 
hind the wall, while Charlestown streets filled with excited soldiery 
and civilians. 

It was reported that these two lads had used their knives and 
forks to dig through the jail-wall ; but Quantrell suspected other 
wise, from an incident which took place after the execution. 

Certain women from the North, in spite of all precautions, by 
patience and refined address, had obtained communication with the 
prisoners. Among these had been Hannah Ritner, and Quantrell 
met her the night after the executions, when vigilance was relaxed 
and conviviality had succeeded the panic. She was at one of the 
hotels in Harper s Ferry, and had assisted to reclaim the forfeited 
bodies. Her name was a fictitious one upon the register ; but Lloyd, 
who had endeavored to understand her in vain, took Booth to call 
on her after a horseback- ride past Mr. Beall s. 

She was sad and troubled. The errand she had come upon was 
not these poor, staring dead, but their living forms, and malice had 
intervened. She heard the tale how Cook and Coppock had reached 
on the gallows for each other s hands, and said good-by affection 
ately on the brink of the dark unknown ; and she heard, trembling, 
how Booth and Atzerodt had discovered their attempt to escape, 
while Ouantrell " weakened," and desired not to intercept them. 

At this moment Atzerodt, who had become an intolerable para 
site of the two young men, made his way to the room, and stood 
confounded to see, in the full dress of a Quaker lady, the prophetess 
of the mountains. 

" Py Jing ! " he muttered " te witch of Shmoketown ! " 

" You have asked me more than once to tell your fortune, An 
drew Atzerodt," the dark and passion-possessed woman exclaimed, 
rising. " I never supposed, till cruelty took possession of your frail 
and prating nature, that Fate had the least concern in you. Hold 


out your hand, sir ! And you two gentlemen as well ! The oppor 
tunity is condign." 

She meant Booth, Beall, and Ouantrell. 

They extended their hands. She looked the palms over, and the 
faces as well, and labored within herself like a Pythoness in pain. 
Then, beginning with Ouantrell, she spoke these lines, at the outset 
tenderly, but, in the sequel, to Lloyd s companions, with a haughty 
power above all plays and players : 

" He whose heart to pity swells, 
In his fever shall spring wells ! 
Who their tears ungenerous stop, 
Shall feel, burning, but one drop ! 
Water ! water ! cry they, Lord ! 
In the fire and on the cord !" 

She ended with her dark hair raveling through her distraught 
fingers, and her arms spread wide, as if she implored the vision she 
described in rhyme. 

" Come away ! " muttered Atzerodt, in terror ; " she has fits, and 
pites beople ! " 

" Truly a nice, comforting hostess," added Booth, undisturbed ; 
" but I never did like above a drop of water, and, as for the cord, 
we ll ring it for a bottle of whisky." 

Edgar Pittson had been almost as true a prophet as Hannah 
Ritner. Scarcely had the last man been hanged in Virginia, when 
the Democratic party convention of ail the Union was held at 
Charleston in South Carolina, and the slave States withdrew, be 
cause they could not make a President to force slavery into Kansas, 
whence John Brown and his sons had expelled it. This convention 
adjourned to Baltimore, but, before it reconvened, Abraham Lincoln 
had been nominated by the young Republican party in the nearly 
as obscure city of Chicago. 

Another world had grown up beyond the termination of the old 
Maryland National Road, and all the presidential candidates, four in 
number of whom three received their nominations in Baltimore 
were from this West Lincoln, Douglas, Breckenridge, Bell. The 
loins of free labor made such increase, that counting slaves as votes 
had ceased to be a counterpoise. 

Ever since Presidents of the United States had been nominated 
by delegate or popular conventions, Baltimore city had been the 


party focus of the Union, and the seat of nearly all such conventions. 
The day of its prestige was over when, at the theatre where Nelly 
lost her content, the slave States again seceded from the convention 
there, by whose verdict they had agreed honorably to abide, and 
there the majority set up a Western man. 

Maryland cast her electoral vote for the extension of slavery into 
the free public domain, the great remainder of her votes going to 
the candidate of parleying and powwowing on the subject, and only 
twenty-two hundred arid ninety-four votes, out of above ninety-two 
thousand, being cast in Maryland for Lincoln, the victor. 

Maryland, indeed, had always lacked a coherent public character, 
and was a fortuitous settlement rather than a moral undertaking, 
and no general fact had disturbed her monotony in two centuries, 
but Baltimore. 

This powerful new city, lying across the gateway to the Federal 
capital, had consulted its momentary interests and decided against 
drawing the line of freedom down a little way, so as to stand upon 
it ; and only one great and passionate citizen of Baltimore, educated 
at a college of the far West, saw where his native State should take 
her place. 

Mr. Henry Winter Davis, who has already appeared in this story, 
advocated the union of his party with Mr. Lincoln s party, and 
sneered at the decision of the Maryland chief justice, who had argued 
out the pro-slavery tenet of the Supreme Court, as " a ridiculous 
farrago of bad history, worse law, and low partisanship." 

If there was the equal of Henry Winter Davis on the other side, 
he is not to be found among Maryland s public men. The nearest 
approach to him in self-contained purpose, deep and silent passion, 
mental courage, and haughty ambition, was John Wilkes Booth. 

As Mr. Davis had learned in the West the forgotten realities of 
freedom, Mr. Booth had learned in the South the spirit that stood 
ready to reopen the African slave-trade, as Henry Winter Davis had 
declared, months before the raid of John Brown, saying : " The 
preparation of men s minds for the grand end has already begun, 
either consciously or unconsciously. The great English experiment 
of emancipation is loudly proclaimed a failure. The party of the 
South is ready to make the issue : repeal of the laws against the 
slave-trade, or Rebellion ! " 

Booth had no training nor regular profession, was a very young 
man, and his intellectual nature was narrow ; but he possessed more 


than the average maturity of persons of his traditions, and, to use 
the expression of one who knew him from childhood, " he was all 
man from the child, and the feet, up." * 

If his knowledge of the world and of civilized principles was no 
greater than the constraints and illusions of an actor and an actor s 
son, they were as real as the understanding of any of those who 
expected to return America to Asiatic conditions, and then bully 
Europe out of her attitude toward slavery. Booth s habits were as 
good as the young men s around him, his manners were generally 
better, his loyalty to friendship and to locality unquestioned, indeed, 
reputed ; and he had those powers valued by savage and statesman 
still confidence, and " the still hunt." 

He had not only kept Nelly Harbaugh s confidence, but Lloyd 
Quantrell was convinced that he did not know where she had gone, 
and no imputing of the girl s principle or virtue would extract from 
Booth a retort. 

" He can not be her lover," Lloyd reasoned, " and not resent 
things said against her, at least by his looks." 

In like silence and still-craft, Booth took Lloyd during that spring 
to the village of Belair, half a day s ride by horse to the north, 
where Booth essayed to study his father s old parts in order to 
" star " them in the South at a long, quaint tavern with a swinging 
sign in a retired corner of the court-house square. Nelly Starr, as 
she is henceforth to be known, was looking down on Lloyd Quan 
trell from her play-book, and he never suspected her to be near. 

Precocious in his coolness and in his trespasses, Booth listened 
more than he spoke ; yet, when he was gone, his friend always felt 

His moral standard was purely traditional : to hate "meanness," 
to defend women, to resent insult, to stand by all his own family ; 
and yet, he was not open in his nature as he appeared, coveted the 
pearl of woman s honor, seldom elevated any companion s nature, 
in his appetites was predatory, and often low in his affiliations. He 
seldom tolerated his equals from the stage, but would take mere 
vagrants up and use them for his willful rides and strolls. He had 
joined a volunteer company, of anti-national bias, at Belair, and was 
% full of warlike thoughts and feats of prowess. 

He took Quantrell to his birthplace, on the road to the Susque- 
hanna a clearing in a dry forest, with a ditch for scenery, and no 
* John E. Owen, comedian. 


other improvements than a small Gothic cottage, itself erected by a 
filial-minded son, and not by Booth s erratic father ; yet John Booth 
was deeply attached to this spot, and he carried Quantrell to the 
Priest s Ford of Deer Creek, to look at the massive-walled ancient 
priest s house on a hill-top, and to the Bald Friar s view of the great 
Susquehanna River falling in miles of rocks and foam to the pale 
lagoon of the Chesapeake. The bandit haunt, as it seemed, of the 
rock Pass of Deer Creek, the young men visited ; and in their com 
pany were the two Baltimore friends of Booth, Sam Arnold and 
Mike O Laughlin, impecunious, commonplace followers, quite below 
Booth s fine appearance, emulousness, and reserve. 

Lloyd asked his father to account for some of the contrarieties 
in his friend. Abel Quantrell said : 

"I have known three generations of these Booths old Richard, 
the grandfather; Junius Brutus, the immigrant ; and the present boys. 
You can see, my son, from the swelling name of the second Booth, 
that the vagary was in old Dick, his father. He was full of brood 
ing self-esteem, and seldom spoke to anybody here, but left a bom 
bastic diary behind him. He claimed to be kin of John Wilkes, of 
London ; and so the young fellow whom you affect is named for that 
first of modern blackguards, who created a political reputation by the 
worst vices of the press. The square root of his endeavor was self- 
indulgence and the love of notoriety. The cube of the personalities 
he invented in Anglo-Saxon politics is the discouragement and deg 
radation of public life." 

" Why, father, Johnny says he was a great patriot and friend of 

" Sho ! We are not so weak that we must be grateful to every 
foreign vaporer. I will tell you, Lloyd, how John Wilkes became 
our friend. Aspiring to aristocratic place and society, his domestic 
cruelty and licentiousness disqualified him. He was a pan enu 
distiller s son, and he set up a press, subsidized by the discharged 
ministers of a young king, to attack their successor. How did he 
do it ? Let the outraged republic of human nature answer ! He 
accused the king s widowed mother of being the minister s mistress ; 
and the minister being a Scotchman, he harangued the vulgar in 
tolerance of the English against the Scotch. From that hour dis 
gusting personality has been the favorite dagger of the political as 

Abel Quantrell arose and put his hand in his bosom, and leaned 



with the other whitened hand upon his stick, while resentment 
against oppression made the line of his firm-shut mouth against the 
straight lines of his nose and chin the skyey cross of chivalry. 

* Lloyd," he said, " beware how you impute evil to the domestic 
misunderstandings of your fellow-man ! It is deadly homicide, and 
God will punish it. The eagle flies in heaven unchallenged and 
admired ; the war-horse bears his rider in the good fight, and no 
inquisition is ever made into the secrets of his stall ; but man in full 
career, nobly serving his species, finds his nest invaded in his ab 
sence by the weasel and the crow. A crime is contrived out of 
some aberration of love or nuptial confidence, and the scandal-sub 
sisting world rejoices until its own turn comes, when Heaven s great 
Drummond-light will prove, at last, the widest tyranny to be hy 

* " Father," said the son, " you believe that love should be pure ? " 
" Pure as this earth can yield it. It comes like the seed from the 

ground in the act of life distilling its corruption. But Jesus could 
not preach without some imputation on his birth, nor Mohammed 
marry Zeinab without the reflections of his guests. There is no 
boundary to prurient and idle curiosity. It spins into its daily web 
the heart-strings of the wounded, and the wickedest of its torture- 
chambers is the modern scandal-press, founded by John Wilkes and 
his fellow-debauchees. Mixing in his quarrel the cause of America, 
I fear his bad example is in our types and presses. From Britain 
came the vituperative Jacobin writers who made public life unen 
durable to Washington himself the Paines and Callenders, who 
could not worship liberty without private hate and mercenary defa 

" But, father, was this Richard Booth a brilliant writer, too ? " 
" Sho ! No. He allowed his son to support him, and his only 
talent was his reticence. The theatrical life is no help to an un 
balanced intellect, as old Booth, the actor, proved. He was an 
imitator of Kean, who was, like many on the English stage, the 
progeny of the lawless nobleman and the actress. The pride of the 
aristocrat and the assumption of his favorite is in many an earlier 
Booth and Wilkes, whose records run back to the triumphs of Nell 
Gwynn.* The actor, Junius Brutus Booth, aspired to rival the 

* It is not known that Robert Wilkes and Barton Booth were of the stock 
of John Wilkes and Richard Booth. The former actor, grandson of a Cavalier 
judge, flourished about 1700, in London ; and Barton Booth claimed to be of 


gypsy genius of Edmund Kean in England, and came to America to 
forestall him. They arrived nearly at the same time both little men, 
greedy of fame, both wrecked by appetites, and each left one son 
to distinguish the name and walk highly. Young Ned, our neigh 
bor, has seen his father s errors of life and art, and imitated neither ; 
but, by study and hardship, has made a bright and original name. 
John Wilkes, your chum, expects to out-Herod his father, and vault 
to celebrity as he vaults the bars at his gymnasium." 

" Father, you are too harsh. John Booth has an affectionate 

" That he drew from a martyr mother, one of the best of neigh 
bors ; but the son s affection is in the sequel, and we shall see what 
his precocious obduracy and indulgence will leave her in the residue 
of days. The cube of a child-like nature is manhood ; the cube of 
the premature man must be either angel or fiend." 

The old man hesitated. 

"Speak, father; it is pleasant to obey you." 

A tear ran down Lloyd s face. 

" I know the price you are paying, my son," Abel Ouantrell said, 
" and I will lay no further commands upon you ; not even " his 
voice broke and his eye glazed a moment "to hear the call of your 
country, when mere locality and reaction beat the drum in your na 
tive streets ! But, Lloyd, you have sinister companions, who will in 
vite you to conduct irregular and partisan warfare. Never do it ! 
Go join the open enemy, if you will, but never lurk within the lines, 
in Maryland, and be a spy and a villain." 

" Father, do you approve of John Brown s methods ? " 

" No. Senator Pittson was right. I antagonized him because I 
took a woman s part." 

" Father, who is Hannah Ritner ? " 

" My son, she is a woman in politics. But she is also a woman 
in mercy." 

Had Abel Quantrell permitted his son to love, he would have 
let politics alone in that critical year of 1 860 ; but, kept from Katy, 

the Earl of Warrington s stock, and was the hero in Addison s " Cato," about 
1713. His first wife was a baronet s daughter, and his second a dancer. Ed 
mund Kean, if not a duke s son by an actress, was the illegitimate descendant 
of another nobleman. Richard Booth applied to Arthur Lee for a commis 
sion in the American army, at the age of twenty ; and his father, John Booth, 
called John Wilkes " the sacred protector of freedom." 



and sent into influential society, he imbibed the violent feelings of 
social Maryland, where free speech was confined to the mountain 
counties, and a convention of the Republican party could not be 

Two such local conventions, four years apart, were mobbed the 
last of them assembled by the subsequent Maryland member of Mr. 
Lincoln s Cabinet; and when Mr. Lincoln s wife and young children 
came through Baltimore, " an immense crowd with groans and hoot- 
ings " * received the Chief Magistrate-elect of their country, as they 
supposed, but he, advised by wisdom, had passed through Baltimore 
at night, a matter of infinite jest to the ignorant scribblers there ; but 
the murderous spirit that followed him to \Vashington and used the 
hospitality of a Baltimorean s theatre to destroy him, was in that 
same hooting crowd he had avoided. 

It was the murder of free speech and the slavery of opinion 
which took Maryland into the vortex of loss and folly; for had 
meetings and debate been free during the few years of inquiry, the 
paltry two thousand slaves held in Baltimore would never have been 
the masters of the city. 

Negro-traders, like Abel Quantrell s brother, dictated the rea 
soning of jurists and the consciences of theologians. All heaven, 
in that most gentle atmosphere, displayed of eve the Star-spangled 
Banner in the skies of the Chesapeake, but the sons of them for 
whom the national anthem had been made, tolerated in their streets 
the paroquet colors of South Carolina, and received her " embas- 
sador" when the heir of Washington had not where to lay his 

The Eastern Shore, more loyal to its plain ancestry, had fur 
nished the Governor of Maryland in that perilous time, and he, 
guided by Henry Winter Davis, refused to convene the State Legis 
lature the conspirators method of capturing unwilling States 
first to draw Joseph away from home, and next to sell him to 
Egypt, and last, to show his bloody and ravished garment of bright 
colors at the desolate door of his fathers. 

In this way Virginia was betrayed by beleaguering her Legisla 
ture and convention around with murderers, like those who had 
gone to Islamize Kansas ; and when Virginia surrendered, the war 
passed on to her soil, and left Maryland a sullen or frightened host- 

* A rebel history of Maryland, 1879. 


age in the Union, with brave soldiers here and there, but many a 
chronic Thersites or Caliban. 

Lloyd Quantrell s year of banishment from Katy expired as Vir 
ginia gave up the ghost. With a hungry and troubled hea^t he took 
the railway for the Catoctin country, hearing, as he left Baltimore, 
the insensate salutes on the Federal Hill for the secession of Vir 
ginia, and the capture of Fort Sumter by South Carolina. 

Uncertain where to find a conveyance among the little towns 
along the Potomac, Lloyd continued on to Harper s Ferry, and 
found everything there in confusion ; the people were for the Gov 
ernment which employed them, but -the Government superintendent 
had gone off to Richmond and assisted to vote for secession, and 
rival sentinels were patrolling the place. 

At midnight the State troops were entering Harper s Ferry from 
Charlestovvn, when the small guard of the armories crossed the 
bridge to Maryland, and an explosion echoed along the hollow 
mountains and lighted their gloomy countenances with the glow 
of the resurrection-day ; the splendid workshops were riven to 
pieces, and, as the flames climbed the Rifle-works, the bell in the 
falling tower was heard to ring as it went down into the ruins. 

" There, there ! Do you hear it ? " a voice said at Quantrell s 
elbow. " It s a-waiting for me. It s a-ringing for me. I can t git 
to it. Oh, I m gone clar off of my Americanus ! " 

Leaving this old " suck " of a ruin on foot, Quantrell walked to 
Middletown. Excitement over the destruction of the country, and 
the probable invasion of their border realm, stopped all the usnal 
facilities and conveyances, and it was evening before Lloyd reached 
Bosler s farm. 

The spotted setter he had given to Katy came out and attacked 
him vehemently at the gate, but Katy appeared herself, and was 
lifted and carried in his mighty arms. 

How splendid she looked ! How more grown and child-wom 
anly ! 

" Did you expect me, darling ? " 

" Of course I did. Luter and fader have gone away and left 
the house to us. Nopody is here but Fader Fenwick." 

A sudden thrill ran through Lloyd at this information. 

" Katy," he whispered, drawing the yielding form deeply inward P 
" he shall marry us. Now, darling or it may be never ! " 

A scream from Katy was hushed in a kiss of man s decision. 


" Lloyd, he won t marry us." 

" Katy, he shall ! When I demand it, you must insist. I know 
he is fond of you." 

" And of you, too, Lloyd. Oh, what shall I do ? " 

" Get us refreshment, darling, and listen, and obey. To-day we 
are free to marry. To-morrow, another promise may send us apart 
through the tumultuous years that have come." 

" O Lloyd, my fader ! and Luter, who is my pastor ! What will 
tey say ? " 

" Katy, we are past everybody s saying. It is love alone with 
us the desire of our hearts, the trembling heaven above ; or cruel 
pain and cowardice attending upon that world s consent which does 
not know love s desperation. Take the step with me ! All our 
parents have taken it, and the world is still happy ; birds singing, 
and children everywhere. The priest is here. God may have sent 
him. We are here " 

" Te ring ! " whispered Katy, with superstitious awe. " We 
have not got one." 

" We shall find one, if I must make it out of the clasp of your 
mother s old Dutch Bible with the fire-tongs ! " 

He took her in. Hugh Fenwick was reading his Directortum 
Sacerdotale, and Lloyd took it up and read of the "vain cleric," 
who " gives way to thoughts of self-complacency," etc. The sugges 
tion was not lost on Quantrell s alert thought, resolving to take this 
man unawares. 

" Hugh," he said, as they sat at the table, and some of the 
Dunker still s liquor had warmed their blood, " you must be a full 
priest now no make-believe ? And I know you will be a smart 
one ! " 

" Oh ! " replied Fenwick, maturely, " I am hardly a seminarist 
now. The fathers consult me on the rubrics and grave matters of 
that kind." 

" Have you got an outfit, Father Hugh ? I mean the gown, and 
stole, and all that ? " 

"Oh, yes; I ve brought a surplice with me and a stole. One 
never knows when he may be called on for unction, or bap 
tism " 

" Or marriage, too, I guess ! " cried Katy, deadly pale. 

" Pshaw ! " said Lloyd. " He can t marry people. That s above 
Hugh ! " 


"Oh, yes; I m qualified," said Fenwick, blushing; "that s the 
easiest of our duties." 

" Great Heaven ! You ? Can you be what that noble old Friar 
Laurence was to Romeo and Juliet when secretly he married them 
at his cell, as they pleaded 

Both our remedies 
Within thy help and holy physic lies. 
I ll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray, 
That thou consent to marry us this day ? 

The complacent Hugh allowed Quantrell to praise his robes 
when they were put on, and heard, with gratified vanity, compli 
ments upon his pulpit impressiveness. 

" Hugh, our dear, proved friend, I am enrolled, and sworn to 
go to the war. Our company leaves for Virginia, probably this 
week. Give me that silver ring I see on your finger as a keepsake 
of you ! " 

Katy was listening, with her great eyes on the rim of her pallid 

" Friend Lloyd, it is a poor little thing; take it ! " 

" Hugh, it is the greatest friendship you can do in this world but 
one and that you are to do now. This ring must unite Katy and 
me this hour ! " 

" Sir," remarked the seminarist, with indignation, " this is an im 
pertinence a trick ! " 

" No, our friend and tried young father, it is anything but that. 
It is what churches and marriages were made for to sanctify the 
love that is so universal. I have but a night to tarry here. The 
time has come, Katy, when I, too, am a pilgrim and a stranger. 
Will this man prove himself our friend, or forsake us when we need 
him first ? " 

" Fader Hugh," Katy cried, with the impulsiveness of despair, 
" you said if it efer was your duty, you would pe te minister to us. 
Lloyd asks you ! " 

" And you, child ! Dare you take this step ? " 

" Yes," cried the girl, in a burst of tears; " if Lloyd s going away, 
I want him to pe happy. He is te man, and I guess he knows if 
I m doing right." ... 

The dog Albion, observing some commotion, barked vigorously, 
and gamboled in hysterical delight. 


" I fear," faltered Fen wick, " that to marry you is beyond my 

" No more of that ! " Lloyd Ouantrell cried ; " you have boasted 
of your authority to marry. Marry us ; or be a false priest and a 
false friend ! Love s heavy necessities are above all your churches, 
and this is our moment of anguish. I shall leave my wife in your 
charge. If to marry us embarrasses you now, we can all keep the 
secret till better times." 

" It is absolutely necessary to do that," Hugh Fenwick said. 
" Promise, both of you, never to reveal this ceremony till we all 
agree to do so !" 

Katy seemed to protest. Her lover kissed her to peace. 

In deep embarrassment the priest performed his office ; and Al 
bion howling thereat, Lloyd fastened around his neck the horseshoe 
on the tree. 

" Katy," said he, coming in, " the doves have come back from 
the South, and have got the old nest in the tree." 

Dawn had not come on the dark Catoctin hills that had gamboled 
the night away, and rested now in outlines of slumber, when Luther 
Bosler, going to the barn, was met by Lloyd Quantrell. 

" Brother," said Lloyd, " I must have a horse to take me to 
the railroad. My character is at stake unless I reach Baltimore to 

When Lloyd had gone, and Luther and his father were hauling 
wood from the distant mountains, Hugh Fenwick came down the 
stairs like a ghost. 

" What ails you, Father Hugh ? " sighed Katy. 

" Sister, I am anathema. Tempted by pride and praise, I claimed 
to have the right to marry people. It was a wicked assumption, for 
I am not yet in holy orders." 

The dog howled at the threshold. 

Katy fell by the fireplace, with her head in the ashes. 

" Ah-coo-roo ! coo-roo ! " spoke the doves in the tree, which 
had quit the South just in time. 

Quantrell reached Baltimore in season to be taken to a meeting 
called for the purpose of resisting the passage of more troops through 



the city ; some United States artillery and some German companies 
from Pennsylvania having marched through that afternoon, despite 
threats, insults, and ruffianism, to protect the national capital. The 
nature of that meeting was black and insurrectionary, and Quantrell 
joined his military friends right afterward ; and the bottle was the 
presiding genius there as everywhere. 

He could not find his father ; but Light Pittson was in the house, 
and. Lloyd told her he. was committed to leave for Virginia at call. 
The girl, unacquainted with more than the spirit of the hour, com 
mended his resolution. 

Next day Lloyd arose late, and heard a wild din in the 

" The Yankees ! The myrmidons ! More of them are com 

He drew on his clothes, and fell in with the mongrel swarm of 
tatterdemalions and bravoes the unthinking, the pale, and the fierce 
and they swept him toward the harbor of the city, where the flood- 
tide bore the bowsprits of ships nearly across that street where the 
one track of a railroad alone connected the capital of the Union 
with the great States of the North, just risen from the swoon of the 
news of disunion. 

The rioters were marching on that track thousands strong, as if 
Jones s Falls and its pollution had burst, and were deluging the 

Quantrell learned that a portion of a Northern " army " had 
just been hauled through the town in cars by horses ; but that some 
fragments had remained behind, and that these were now to be 
murdered. People were already tearing up the track and piling 
stones and ship-anchors in the streets. 

In a few minutes a moving coherence of some kind was seen at 
a place in the broad street, where a bridge crossed the great open 
sewer of the city. It seemed like a stone wall moving yet crum 
bling, and at the head of it waved a sort of color or flag, torn and 
gay and dirty. The air was mottled with things that seemed to be 
tossed out of a machine, or revolving like bats or butterflies in the 

As the moving disaster drew nearer, there was seen enveloped 
a little band of men staggering under arms, beaten and bloody, the 
air and the street spouting stones at them, and at their head a mis 
creant of destruction was carrying, to insult them, the new piece of 


finery conceived in the Southern barracoons the insurgent, separat 
ing, or confederated flag. 

Quantrell picked up a stone. 

He saw at the head of that little, tired soldiery, the mayor of the 
city, walking by their officer, pale and dusty, but doing his duty at 
the risk of his life. 

The troops came so close that Lloyd could hear them panting. 
Their tongues were dry, like those of sheep driven without water. 
Here and there one would be tripped up by some coward and fall 
beneath his heavy and unwonted accoutrements. Yet the eyes of 
all were shining at something farther on, and seeing this alone. 

" What was it they saw ? " Quantrell often asked, afterward, but 
could never tell. It might have been the unprotected capital of their 
country, or the presence of death, or the worship of a faithful pos 
terity which could feel for their agony that day. 

They numbered less than two hundred ; they spoke no more 
than the ox going to slaughter. The Christian martyrs in the Ro 
man arena were not beset by as many thousands nor by more 
ravening beasts. Yet all that these men were doing was obeying a 
proclamation of law and using a peaceable post-road of the coun 
try to go to their capital. 

Quantrell was fascinated with the scene of duty and of dread. 
The stone he was holding in his hand was wrested from him, and 
the villain who seized it hurled it against an old man limping at the 
soldiery s side, with a face like the dust of battle on the skins of the 

" That is my father ! " Quantrell gasped, and rushed where the 
old man fell. 

" Go back, sir ! This is my place," a woman spoke, rising, with 
Abel Quantrell in her arms. 

Lloyd gazed, and saw the face of Hannah Ritner, stained with 
his father s blood. 

The butchers of the mob had now presumed too far ; it had be 
come a question of resistance or death. Hemmed in and blocked 
fast, stoned and spit upon, prodded with staves and stuck with awls, 
deserted by police and outlawed in that place of public commerce, 
the soldiery from near the ancient battle-field of Lexington waited 
for one word, and it came, at last, with nasal curtness and mean- 

"Ready! Fire!" 



Then rolled through Baltimore the echoes of Fort Sumter, and 
the streets, all strewed with flying scavengers, ended the war on that 
spot forever. 

The flight of the rioters gave the police room to form in, and the 
volunteers of Massachusetts were molested no more, save by that 
local chatter which ever follows in the wake of the brave. 

Lloyd s father was dangerously hurt, but the son demanded per 
mission to see him that night. 

" Father," said he, " I am going you must know where. I lit 
tle thought the first bloodshed would be upon your aged face. 
Wide as we differ, father, there ought to be love between us. Can 
you not forget the cause I go to fight for, and bless your son ? " 

" You will never see me again ! " Abel Quantrell spoke, his face 
with lines of blood upon it, but the mouth firm as the dead Cid s 
brought from his tomb to fight the Moors. " I can not bless by 
my finite power. My heart has been warmed of late toward you, 
and if you could stay here, where Heaven should make you see your 
duty, affection might grow strong between us. How can I say God 
bless you, sir, when, blessing you, I dare not ask liberty for your 
slaves, against whose sorrows you go to war? " 

" I have anticipated that, father," Lloyd replied. " You can bless 
me, sir. Here is a bill of sale of every slave I own, prepared to 
meet this hour and your consistency. Take it and set them free, 
and say, God bless you, Lloyd ! " 

He laid the paper upon the bed. 

Abel Quantrell drew his son to his face and kissed him with 

" The blessing of your State go with you, when Maryland is free : 
my son, take my farewell from her shield, Crescite et multiplied- 
mini! " * 

Light Pittson kissed him all her approbation. 

Hannah Ritner whispered in his ear : 

"When tbou killest everything, 
Still the turtle-dove will sing." 

" Grow and multiply," the motto of Maryland. ; 




QUANTRELL left Baltimore, with other recruits, for the seceding 
or insurgent government the two lads Arnold and O Laughlin, al 
ready referred to as Booth s dependents, and the liquor-dealer Mar 
tin, who had business in the peninsulas below the city of Washing 
ton, where, also, were situated Ouantrell s lands and slaves. 

These peninsulas stretch eighty miles south of Baltimore city, 
and are comprised between two broad sheets of tidal water the 
Chesapeake Bay coming up to Baltimore, and the great river Poto 
mac, ceasing its tides at the city of Washington. The general 
peninsula is divided lengthwise by the river Patuxent, flowing half 
way between the two large cities, and further compressing the land 
for traversable purposes to the breadth of only twenty miles east 
from Washington. It was forty miles by the railroad from Balti 
more to Washington, and Quantrell then had forty miles to go by 
private conveyance before he should be able to cross into Virginia 
at Pope s Creek, near the old court-house town of Port Tobacco. 

This Pope s Creek suggested to our traveler that the parent 
country of the Roman Catholic religion in the English colonies was 
in this old isolated district of Maryland. 

While Raleigh was seeking to plant Virginia, a young Tory poli 
tician at court cut out from Raleigh s colony the province of Mary 
land, and introduced the old religion there in its decaying and perse 
cuted times, after the Catholic conspiracy of Guy Fawkes. After a 
course of fifty years a Protestant revolution arose in Maryland, and 
for nearly a century the Romish worship was suppressed, or till the 
American War of Independence released all worships. In that in 
terval the old faith of Queen Mary smoldered and the Lords Balti 
more had professed Protestantism ; but John Carroll, a priest of 
Rome and educated on the Continent, gathered his folds together, and 
brought over refugee priests from the French Revolution ; and thus, 
in eighty years, Maryland had again become the proselytizing prov 
ince of American Romanism, with its springs in Baltimore and its 
antiquities in the old Potomac peninsula. 

Upon the edge, indeed, within the rim, of this old English Ca 
tholicism stood the American capital, and much of its population 


was of the faith of Calvert and Catesby, while a Jesuit college and 
the oldest convent in the land overhung the city from the steeps of 
Georgetown. Hardly fifty thousand people remained in Washing 
ton, but soldiers were quartered in the halls of Congress, and all the 
railroads to the north had been destroyed the night following the 
riots in Baltimore. 

The city of Washington stood, the melancholy monument of 
slavery incorporated with a democratic system, and extending 
through that white democracy, to the lowest man, the prejudices 
not of the democracy, but of the slavery. It had resisted all the 
efforts of Congress to make it a free district, yet slavery had spoiled 
its proportions, and, originally a square, it was now only the Mary 
land side of the square, and gave some force to Abel Quantrell s re 
mark, every time he saw the map of the District of Columbia : 

" Cube it ! " 

There stood a long Grecian Capitol on a nearly naked hill, with 
the splintered drum of an iron dome, like a broken bundle of fasces, 
unfinished in the middle. A broad, unsightly avenue stretched from 
its base, between stunted rows of generally mean-looking houses, to 
a Treasury Department in borrowed architecture, and some other 
ministerial buildings, surrounding the sorrowful new President s 
abode, out of whose official window he could look upon a neglected 
obelisk of Washington, halting like the pillar of Lot s wife till Sodom 
and Gomorrah should burn in chastising fire. 

The same glance which showed Abraham Lincoln the deciviliz- 
ing impotence of slavery showed him the new rebel flag hoisted on 
the Virginia hills that Virginia whence his forefathers emigrated to 
the West. Lloyd had the privilege of seeing this man for the only 
time in his life, when the President walked, the day of Lloyd s ar 
rival, from his white official mansion to the war building. 

Lloyd and his three companions encountered a tall man, a small 
one, and one neither small nor tall, but wearing spectacles. 

" I ll swaw," whispered Martin, " if yer ain t the devil himself ! " 

The other lads looked up and gave room. 

The tall man glanced down from a long and peculiar face, and 
said, with a look of most fatherly tenderness, where sorrow and 
sweetness seemed mixed in the cup of dignity : 

" Good-morning, friends ! " 

The two others would not have spoken at all but for the tall 
man s condescension, and he with the spectacles barely noticed our 


loiterers; while the little man. with hardly any color about him, 
smiled at them out of a boyish, old face. 

." Who is it ? " asked Lloyd, seeing only one face of the three, 
and that had seemed to shine down into him and through him, like 
the light of foliage tremulous in water-wells. 

" The little fellow is See-ward, their Secretary of State. He un 
in specticles is the great lawyer in Washington Stanton." 

" But the other man, with that noble voice : who was it ? Where 
have Iseen him ? " 

" Why, on every picture and newspaper for the last year, Lloyd. 
That s the Yankee President, Abe Lincoln." 

Quantrell drew his breath in a woe he might have borrowed from 
that magistrate s gentle forlornness. 

" Oh, boys," said he, " I hoped he was an uglier and a more 
wicked or degraded man. That is a gentleman, and the truth has 
not been told us." 

A hired carriage took our adventurers to heights of clay and for 
est overlooking a broad arm of the Potomac, called the Eastern 
Branch, where were a navy-yard and a bridge, guarded by hastily 
improvised militia. As they looked down from these hills at the 
squalid city of the government, basking in blue haze and in the cleft 
of broad, deserted rivers, Martin, the liquor-dealer, said : 

" Boys, we might have give old Abe Lincoln and that abolition 
ist See-ward a couple of shots, and got out of town easy." 

" I was thinking of that," Mike O Laughlin added. " If Johnny 
Booth had seen him, I b leeve he would have clipped him. Booth s 
bitter as death." 

" I never could have fired on that face," Lloyd Quantrell spoke. 
" I told father I would do nothing between the lines." 

" Harkee ! " Martin interposed ; " I want you all to j ine me, boys, 
and we ll cut out this steamboat that runs from Balt mer to P int 
Lookout. I m down yer now to spot her. We ll hide a crew aboard 
of her, and drive her own crew overboard and take her as a present 
to Jefferson Davis." 

The other two watched Quantrell, .to form their opinions from 

"Martin," said Lloyd, " I ll do no such Indian ambushing. If 
our cause is right, it wants to be supported by soldiers, and not by 
robbers and assassins. I shall enlist in the Virginia line." 

As subsequent events proved, Mr. Martin did lurk within the 



government lines, and he and others seized this steamer ; but the 
military punished the chief offenders, and Mr. Martin ran away to 
Canada, where he lived a scheming life during the remainder. of 
his days. And yet this man had a certain influence upon the great 
est personal crime of that long civil war. 

They had loitered away the whole Saturday morning in Wash 
ington, and the long, steep hills of clay, still in the pools and ruts of 
winter, delayed the carriage, so that it was near supper-time when 
they reached Surratt s tavern, ten miles from the capital. 

It was a respectable, white wooden house, with green shutters 
and two chimneys, and a paling was around its pretty flower-yard 
and vine-clad porch on the broad-eaved side, while a shed along the 
northern gable shaded a bar-room and post-office ; and here were 
assembled some negro overseers, woods farmers, and young men, 
with their horses tied around the fences and in a grassy space. 

A locust-tree grew in this open area, a small peach-orchard was 
behind the house, and some bird-cages adorned the road-side. Near 
and far the melancholy woods of oak and chinquapin and small wild 
pine enveloped the clearings, and the brown fox-grass blew with a 
whistling sound, and the tender green of spring made cover and 
fringes in the forests. 

They saw within Surratt, the tavern-keeper, and the lad of the 
same name who had been at St. Charles College with Hugh Fen- 
wick, distinguished by his long nose, lean chin, and sunken eyes. 
The elder Surratt was ill, and not long to live ; the son grave and 
uninteresting ; and therefore Quantrell was rejoiced to find the ladies 
of the family in the dwelling part Mrs. Surratt, a wife of round 
form and soft complexion, and of hospitable ways, and her young 
daughter, pretty and chirrupy. 

Quantrell had brought Katy s accordion along, and he played 
and sang to the females in the snug rooms and wide hall-way, while 
Arnold and O Laup;hlin, habitually impecunious, spent Quantrell s 
money at the bar, and retired to bed tipsy. 

Young Herold, whom they had met in Charlestown, came in and 
sat with the family. He had .some married sisters in the peninsula, 
and was full of talk about " patridges." His little bashful face was 
a mirror of dimples and blushes, and no subject found him talkative 
but that of gunning ; on snipe and wild ducks, and especially on 
"patridges," he was eloquent. 

Lloyd had the reputation of wealth in this region; and the 


young-looking mother and pleasing daughter paid him attention 
the more, that he was about to volunteer in the armies of secession. 

He thought of his child-wife passing her honeymoon in those 
walled mountains, of the brief bliss of their union and violent sun 
dering, and he was in no mood to indulge in political acerbities. 

" Dear Mrs. Surratt," he said, when his ears had been too long 
harassed by epithets of " Yankee," " despot," " nigger-worshiper," 
" black republican," "vile abolitionist," and so on, "don t let the 
women, also, go to the war ! Some day we shall cease fighting, I 
hope, and home will be so grateful without politics. Then the ladies 
can make peace speedy and easy with their soft ministrations, in 
stead of blowing the coals of war to flame again." 

" Never will I live under Abe Lincoln, that vile and nasty aboli 
tion President ! " said the hostess, with all her dainty temper. 

They kissed the young man good-night, with mingled confidence 
and coquetry ; and their boy, who would be a priest, lighted the way 
for him. 

" It must make you feel proud, sir, to go to war for your coun 
try ! " young Surratt exclaimed, with timid admiration. 

" My country," repeated Lloyd, " where is it ? Go back to school, 
my friend, and stay there, and don t loiter here between the lines." 

It was long before Quantrell could fall asleep, thinking of the 
unnatural compulsions which now were driving himself and millions 
more away from love, home, and law the despotisms of pride, per 
versity, and moral cowardice. 

He would not be ruled because he had said he would not, and he 
had said so because others did the same ; yet not one grievance 
had he received except the expression of the lawful majority against 
the weedy and gypsy instincts of slavery, to go everywhere and spoil 
good land, and sow arrogance, brutality, and dissension. 

That gentle, fatherly face he had seen in Washington, so differ 
ent from the hard- and cold-faced President just retired, had spoken 
to him and his fellow-truants the word "friends," with a sensibility 
inherent, and a smile that was the God s upon the cross. 

" Could he," thought Quantrell, "rise in to-morrow s sun with 
that same countenance and be beheld by all who are breaking up 
the country, and say friends, as he did to us, would they not 
submit to his rule ? Alas, no ! for I can not myself hear the cry of 
my father nor of my wife. A haughty and cowardly fear to turn 
back and be right, drives me and all of us to a silly insurrection." 



A feeling of indignation possessed him against the original se 
cessionists ; but he could not think of the name of a single one. All 
secessionists had been secondary ones. If there was one original 
secessionist, it was not an individual, but a system ; and John Brown 
had tried to kill it with his pikes. Slavery was the only original 

The nearest Lloyd could come to an evil influence over himself 
was Booth. Here seemed a man of insurrectionary incentive head 
long as the thunderbolt, yet the child of the cloud gathering young 
men together to make them drink and swear ; governing them by 
his dark -eyed will, and lending them his affections to incite their re 

That oath by Harper s Ferry, illegal and unbinding as secession 
ordinances themselves, still lay in Ouantrell s mind like a coiled and 
hissing snake ! " If trouble ever comes, to revenge the South ; if in 
vasion comes, to invade her invaders Sic semper tyrannts ! 

Lloyd wished he had never seen John Wilkes Booth. 

Ah ! if some woman had only entered where they took that 
oath and dashed their glasses down some gentle woman, like her 
who had kissed Quantrell to bed ! 

But she, too, was full of political bitterness, and could not stay 
her tongue from wagging when the deep-mouthed guns were full of 
shot, and Law and Treason stood on the instant of war. 

Quantrell fell asleep, with the spirit of his child-bride in his arms ; 
but he dreamed a horrid dream. 

It was the dream identical with Atzerodt s in the night when 
Lloyd first knew Katy Bosler, and when love came between them 
on the tremor of superstition. 

There was a man of pale and black complexion, like Booth, rid 
ing a horse in a wood, and Quantrell had overtaken him there, 
and drunk with him ; and out of the bottle seemed to come other 
men every time they drank ; and " the last man," as Atzerodt had 
expressed it, "was a woman." That woman w r as the exact copy of 
her by whom Quantrell had been kissed, motherly, to his bed ! 

The man they encountered, as they rode along under that dark 
and white influence, was the tall President who had called his ene 
mies " friends " but yesterday, and the same deep, feeling tones 
came from his face in the dream : " Good-evening, friends ; we re 
most home." " The devil you are ! " answered the voice of Booth. 

So the vision proceeded, till the black-and-white rider fomented 


hate against the tall, unsuspecting gentleman, and called for a show 
of hands ; and when the men were at a tie, the woman in this same 
tavern gave the casting vote, by calling " Charge ! " and over the 
precipice went she and all of them, trampling the " long man in 
black clothes " to the earth in his blood. 

Ouantrell awoke, all throbbing with excitement. He looked out 
in the night on woods and pallid moon, and heard the whip-poor- 
will cry down the cross-roads from Surrattsville. 

Back to bed he went, and dreamed the same dream, with varia 
tions, over and over, till he fell into a better sleep at dawn, and, 
when he came down to eat, the ladies were starting for the Catholic 
church at Piscataway. Ouantrell bade them good-by, saying : 

" Dear Mrs. Surratt, I had a bad dream last night. You had 
become a politician, and felt an evil influence. Pray against it, to 
day and ever : Ab insidiis diaboli, liber a nos, Je3u! "* 

That first Sabbath of the war in April time carried Ouantrell 
and his trio, Martin driving, through the woods just tingling with 
the rising sap, to a little stage station called Tee Bee, and through 
the deep-washing creeks and their aguish swamps of Piscataway 
and Mattawoman, till at the ruined hamlet of Beantown they 
turned to the east and saw the congregation dismissing at a road 
side Catholic church, whose graveyard adjacent was filled with 
little tombstones invoking "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." Here Mar 
tin went on with some communicants bound for St. Mary s County, 
and the other two walked to Bryantown, five miles to the south, 
while Quantrell went to dine with a country physician, Samuel 
Mudd, who had a farm and numerous slaves. In this vicinity was 
Lloyd Quantrell s property, and the country toward Bryantown was 
the best improved of all in this old tobacco region. 

Dr. Sam Mudd lived far back from the road on a wheaty plateau, 
and, as he preceded Quantrell from church on his horse, he wore a 
troubled look, asking about the fight in Baltimore, rejoicing at the 
attack upon the soldiery, and wondering whether his slaves would 
run away. 

An enterprising father had both educated him and left him slave 
property. In this old region had once existed a high degree of pro 
fessional cultivation, and two of the physicians hereabout had been 
cited to the death-bed of General Washington, who lived hardly ten 

* From the Roman litany : " From the snares of the devil, Jesus deliver 


miles from Mrs. Surratt s tavern, but on the opposite side of the 
Potomac. These old Scotch-graduated surgeons had kept medical 
students in their houses, and in a land of slaves and few proprietors 
the doctor continued to be more necessary than the lawyer. So 
Dr. Mudd had a proprietary and a practitionary interest in slavery. 

He was a lean man, of a rather hungry and nervous tempera 
ment, with light-red hair, and his complexion easily betrayed his 
feelings, which were quick to brood and seldom buoyant long. He 
was married and agreeably surrounded. His white dwelling, with 
long blank roof, stood high above the surrounding wide swamps, 
and from its summits the Patuxent might almost be seen, where he 
shipped his wheat, corn, and tobacco. A peach-orchard showed its 
warm tints in the front, high trees flanked the gable, and servants 
quarters were near by, with the convenient cool spring that Mary- 
landers covet, and a house-yard and garden, making home neat and 

He led Quantrell into a hall and office-parlor taking up the front 
of the dwelling, and there they talked about property matters over 
a social glass. 

" People are going crazy," said Dr. Mudd ; "we had to send off 
one of our leading citizens to a lunatic asylum a month ago. He 
had manumitted all his niggers, and wanted to rob his family. I 
gave the certificate to send him to the asylum." 

" On that act only, Sam ? " 

" That was the main thing ; yes." 

" Then I am a lunatic, Sam ; for I have set all mine free." 

" You ? what s the matter with you ? " 

" As far as it can be done, with the embarrassments of our laws 
against manumitting, I have done it. My father is against slavery, 
and I sold my negroes to him, giving a blank receipt, and they are 
as good as free. I shall tell them so to-day." 

Dr. Mudd lost his temper, and looked at Lloyd with incredulity 
and suspicion. 

" What in God s name are you going into the Confederate army 
for, then ? " 

" Freedom," answered Quantrell. 

" Freedom ? You re talking like an Abe Lincoln abolitionist ! 
Don t you know that slavery is the only cause for separation ? " 

" Why, Sam, your blacks will all run away. They are only a 
night s walk from Washington city, and every one of them knows 


that secession was on account of slavery. So I shall help the South 
to resist invasion ; but nobody shall tell me that I have quit my 
father, my country, and my girl, for no nobler end than to keep my 
negroes as slaves." 

Quantrell s face shone with something higher than pride the 
dawning principle which comes after disinterested sacrifice. Dr. 
Mudd leaped up and flashed his spiteful blue eyes on his guest. 

" Damn you ! " he said, " they won t have you in the Confederate 
army. No man is wanted there who is not a thick-and-thin pro- 
slavery man. Do you think I would leave the Union to fight for a 
part of it, if I had to give my niggers away ? No, sir ! I shall send 
them to Virginia and sell them to go South, if I can t hold them 
safe here." 

" Don t get mad, Sam. You can t get me mad, because the 
rotten old interest is off my mind, and I feel, in that quarter, a 
relief that makes death in battle only half terrible. Perhaps the 
Federal Government will offer to pay for all the slaves in Mary 

" I wouldn t accept it, sir ! " shrieked Dr. Mudd. " I ve got my 
constitutional rights, and I won t be bought up." 

" Sam, you ll drive the Government to emancipation if you don t 
give them some kind of chance." 

Dr. Mudd broke into curses furious and irrational ; the negroes, 
slipping by, heard the welcome sounds which proved their freedom 
to be the white man s apprehension. 

"Doctor," Lloyd spoke, at last, "are you quite sure the other 
man should not have given you the certificate for the asylum ? Be 
respectable, at least. Holy Easter was but three weeks ago, when 
Christ arose ; you have just come from church, and I am your 
guest : here are three reasons not to swear." 

" You are welcome to go ! " snapped Dr. Mudd ; " I never enter 
tain abolitionists." 

" Good-by, then," said Lloyd, rising. "Take care you don t 
entertain, some time, a man less candid than I am, and with hands 
less clean ! The devil is abroad, watching for people in a passion 
in such times as these. He was in my dreams last night at Mrs. 
Surratt s. He may come into this room if a humble spirit does not 
guard it for you." 

The wretched man, cut in his sense of hospitable duty, lay all 
that day in self-accusation, while Lloyd Quantrell went to his own 


negro estate not far away, and dined with the slaves he meant to 

They were always glad to see him come, and they were all there ; 
and responsibly above them was Ashby, the hostage of John Brown s 
invasion. When Lloyd had eaten of the toothsome negro fare he 
loved so well from childhood s time, he called them close around 
him, the aged and the babes, the supple girls who had loved him, 
and the hardy young laborers he had romped and wrestled with. 

" My dear old friends," spoke Lloyd, "some of whom knew my 
dear mother, and combed her long, bright hair " 

The healing springs of Charlotte Hall, near by, flowed not 
quicker than their tears, to see Lloyd catch his rising sob, and stop 
and tremble. The little mulatto children came to his knees, the 
dusky grandmothers groaned and rocked their heads ; if Lloyd had 
never been loved before, there were gentle-hearted women there, 
and pure as slavery could permit, to nurse his suffering now upon 
their bosoms, and wipe his eyes with their hairs. 

He felt himself as on that day when he wept in Katy s rapt 
embrace going to the love-feast, and she fought with the angels for 
his soul ! 

The angels had yielded then, and now the archangel, with the 
trump of jubilee, was to let poor Ouantrell wind an unpremeditated 
strain : 

" Oh ! " he cried, putting down his emotions with a noble con 
fession, " I wish I was the owner of every slave, instead of only this 
family, that I might set all free as I do you, this Sabbath after Holy 
Week ! I wish I was the President, not of the United States, for 
he has not the opportunity, but the President of the Confederate 
States, to call Freedom loud, and ask God s blessing and alliance ! " 

" Amen ! " rolled round the circle. The aged women, with not 
long to live, shouted for their few days of freedom like the trembling 
virgins and the honest wives. All faces glowed as if the stone had 
been rolled a little way from the tomb, and the bright supernal light 
shone forth of the everlasting Redeemer. 

" Hallelujah ! Bless God, he s come ! God bless young moss- 
ter everywhere ! " 

" I feel so good," cried Lloyd, " I could shout ! for to-day I 
make you free. Father has the papers ; I gave them to him. He 
can not disappoint you. The sacrifice has not cost me a pang, and 
my heart is full of more than happiness of glory ! " 


" Glory ! glory ! " 

The slave people sprang to their feet ; the old forgot their rheu 
matisms; Methodist and Catholic negro danced together; Lloyd 
danced and leaped like a negro of the tribe. No church in Mary 
land felt the frenzy of excitement at revival-time like these who had 
seen their rights, so long denied, come in upon the generous breath 
of kindness, ungrudging as the blossoms of the spring. 

When weary nature ceased to shout, and all lay panting around 
the porches and on the earth, some lute-stringed throats of women 
started melodious tunes, and at the end the patriarch of the family 

Lloyd s time was out. He kissed them all the children ten 
derly, the fair ones with pure and brotherly lips ; the men, too, in 
the Dunker fashion, not a bit afraid or dainty. 

" Mosster," spoke Ashby, " these yer all but me has got 
friends in Merrylin. I ain t got none but you. Take me, and 
let me be your servant." 

" Not into the slave States, where you have no rights ! Not into 
battle, Ashby ! " 

" Mosster, I got only one right left de rest is dead ; dat is de 
right to love and die with you ! " 

"Come, then," spoke Quantrell ; "it is sixteen miles farther to 
Pope s Creek." 



ASHBY was not the only Union volunteer for Lloyd that day ; 
the great dog Fritz, long left at his estate, and now old but valiant, 
followed the two exiles. 

They skirted the rapid running waters of Zekiah Swamp, and 
crossing a branch, entered Bryantown, three or four miles from 
Mudd s, a small cross-roads village of later date than most of the 
peninsular hamlets, with several respectable houses and more wooden 
cabins, some mechanics shops, and a double-porched tavern, with 
dark bar below ; from its upper veranda could be seen, on the hills 
toward the south, a prominent Catholic church. 


When they reached the church, Ashby driving, they saw a sin 
gular scene on the cedar- and fir-crowned lawn before the airy 

A large buzzard, or vulture, was settling down in the road, his 
sable wings scurrying the dust where lay a fine riding horse such 
as is native to that country fallen dead. The stolid black scaven 
ger, undeterred by Lloyd s advancing, had already run its beak into 
the charger, when Fritz, the dog, darted upon it. 

Too gluttonous or too sluggish to know alarm, the carrion-bird 
held its ground, and stared with dull and drunken eyes upon the 
dog, as i[ expressing a willingness to divide the prey. At this the 
dog drew back, glared at the horrible bird, and ran from it in avoid 
ance worse than fear. 

Six miles toward the south, then westward through Zekiah 
Swamp and six miles westward more, brought Lloyd at nightfall to 
old Port Tobacco Town, in the miasmas of a deep inlet from the 
Potomac. It contained a venerable Episcopal church, a court-house 
which once taxed bachelors to support that church, some law-offices, 
and two taverns ; and around it, on the hills, showed mansions of a 
once opulent time. Lying in a bowl of the hills, neglect, night- 
poison, and slavery had come like three witches to grin upon it. 

" Don t sleep heah, mosster," the negro said ; " it s death to stran 
gers after sundown ! " 

Quantrell gazed around on jail and crumbling wall, on public 
pump and butcher-stall, on gravestones uninclosed, and hollow ruin. 

" Think of it," he reflected ; " thirty-four miles from the city of 
Washington ! only an evening s drive ! " 

The time came when this reflection put into another head an en 
terprise of desperation. Port Tobacco was on the direct line, as the 
crow flies, from the city of Baltimore to the city of Richmond, and 
as directly south from Washington as the plummet could hang. 
Did the government at Washington forget this when, the very day 
Lloyd Quantrell arrived in Port Tobacco, he saw a " Home-Guard " 
to recruit for slavery established in the town ? Atzerodt did not for 
get it, whose home was in Port Tobacco. 

He came out to Lloyd s carriage from a large brick edifice with 
massive forking chimneys built against it, and a long porch on 
squalid piers a house of a tenement character, degraded from old 
stability and pretension to be the offices or lodgings of various peo 
ple, the office-holder, the lawyer, the doctor ; and in the once orna- 



mental garden stood an old stable or shop, where Atzerodt worked 
at his trade of coach-maker. 

" Here is where you wanted to bring Nelly, Andrew. It was 
good for her she didn t come." 

" Py Jing ! she proke dat Bunker s heart, Lloyd. She ll preak 
te next feller s, too. Who is he ? Ain t it Pooth ? " 

No, no. Nelly loves nobody, Atzerodt. She wants money and 

" Den she ll cry her eyes out for not taking me. Lloyd, py Jing ! 
I m going to rake money in now easy as rakin oysters. Nigger- 
catchin is done. Te tarn apolitionists has stopped kidnappin and 
remantin of slaves. Te Logans is all proke up. But right here, 
at Port Tobacco Inlet, te plockade-runners will pe comin , and I ve 
got a boat an crew to run te river to Fergeenia." 

" There s a rope spun for you, Andrew ! You go to Canada, or 
this war will catch you ; for it s going to be a big one, and you re a 
poor, chattering coward that I wish no harm to. Where is Father 
Fen wick ? " 

" He s down to St. Thomas s Manor, waitin for you. Put stay 
here to-night. Vender s Captain Sam Cox on te porch , te ring 
leader of Charles County. He s goin up to-morry or next day, and 
capture Washington, py Jing! and cut ole Abe Lincoln s head 

Ouantrell saw Captain Cox, a fierce, consumptive-eyed man, 
standing at the old tavern. 

" Here, Andrew, take my dog, and keep him till you hear from 
me! " 

As Lloyd drove away, Atzerodt put up the dog for drinks at the 
tavern-bar, and one of the few government or Union men in the 
county got him and led him home. 

Ouantreil continued along the high banks of the Port Tobacco 
River, nearly a mile broad, and lighted by the moon, till at its month 
there stretched below the landing and warehouses of Chapel Point, 
and, on the heights above, the venerable chapel, mansion, and school 
of St. Thomas s Manor. 

This was the most elegant establishment the Jesuits possessed 
in Maryland, in those years when they strained the provincial laws 
to give a private estate ecclesiastical scope and opulence. A church 
was connected with a refectory and study, in handsome design, of 
dark-red brick, with Roman arches and heavy chimneys, spire, wide 


hall, and cool gallery within the hall, and slave quarters ; for slavery 
became more influential than the Jesuits, and it broke their discipline 
down, till the brethren of him who penetrated through the wilderness 
to discover the Mississippi yielded by the Potomac to the soft bland- 
ishments of master and slave.* Behind the large yet gloomy con 
struction the graves of the Jesuit brothers lay in myrtle-beds ; and 
terraced slopes and garden-walks dropped away to the shores of the 
mighty Potomac, here contracted to a width of three miles ; and in 
the soft procession of the moon upon the waters the Virginia woods 
at Mathias Point crept onward, like an ambush of the gunner for the 
wild duck. 

Hugh Fenwick came out and put away Lloyd s horses. He 
seemed half guest, half assistant there. They talked of Katy before 
they went to bed. 

" Hugh," said Quantrell, " I shall send to you at this place all 
my letters. In the morning I shall write to Katy, recommending 
her to your care. My father is too ill to bear the news of my mar 
riage yet." 

How deeply was the young priest in religious enthusiasm that 
night ! He would not let Quantrell sleep, without saying over him 
the prayer of St. Thomas Aquinas to keep love s torments down. 

" Get out, Hugh ! " Quantrell said, at last ; " don t paw over me 
so ! You seem to be in what they call ecstasy of some kind ! " 

If he could have peeped into Fenwick s chamber, Quantrell might 
have known the cause of that ecstasy, as the student upon his knees 
sighed out : 

" Lord, if it pleases thee to continue this war sufficiently long, 
be bountifully gracious to forgive my sin in marrying this man and 
woman." And he might have added, " Incline her heart to me ! " 

Quantrell crossed Pope s Creek and the Potomac next morning, 
and, riding across the Northern Neck, reached old Port Royal on 
the Rappahannock. The third night he was in Richmond, and, 
falling in with many volunteers he had met at John Brown s scaffold, 
they took him to a concert-saloon to see a remarkable beauty who 
had recently turned out. 

The place was coarse and without female patrons. Men smoked 
cigars, and waiters peddled liquors up and down the aisles. After 
minstrelsy, dancing, and other variety entertainment, a loud howl 

* See a curious book on a residence in Maryland before the American 
Revolution, by J. F. D. Smyth, loyalist officer. Dublin, 1784. 



arose from the motley audience for the fresh favorite that is ever 
requested and devoured, like fresh babes by the sacred crocodile. 
The present slave of the mob was announced as " the dazzling Pro 
tean Empress in her reigning parts and dresses, Miss Nelly Starr." 

The curtain rose, and Nelly Harbaugh was before Lloyd, in even 
ing dress of black silk superior to the place she stood in, as modesty 
with beauty well might be. Instead of seeming coarser, she seemed 
better in every way, more pale, more cold, more superb. She re 
cited in hoarse, crude, deep tones, and with too little good tuition, 
a ballad Quantrell had heard from John Wilkes Booth. 

Quantrell could hardly believe his eyes, as the curtain fell, that 
this was the mountain weed which had stood by his side in the loft 
of the Dunker church. 

The first piece had been above the taste of the audience, but the 
second was cried for by whistling and yelling the yell that often 
resounded afterward on the field of battle like the Indian war- 

Nelly now appeared in knee-breeches of velvet and a steel corset, 
with alight sword in her hand. Her long, mountain-exercised limbs 
and trunk stood nearly of man s height and sinew, and her hair was 
gathered up. After juggling with the sword awhile to the sound of 
music, she was confronted by a " professor of fencing, and, amid 
the continued yelling of the audience, she crossed rapiers with him, 
more in main strength and rude pluck than in skill. Her prowess 
was greeted by expletives low and familiar, and, at the disarming of 
the professor by the " Empress," Lloyd saw her bosom heave when 
she bowed her thanks. 

" Poor girl ! " thought he, " this audience is a sore exchange for 
an honest husband." 

The curtain soon rang up upon Nelly as " Virginia " the Virginia 
not of Knowles, but of Jefferson, as depicted on the seal of the State. 
There stood this fine and powdered woman, in the dress, or want of 
dress, of an Amazon, with a short tunic, bodice, and sleeves of span 
gles, and with sandals and helmet, and bare limbs and breast a 
wonder in flesh and yellow hair, stalwart and palpitating. Her left 
hand upheld a spear ; from her right hand fell a falchion ; and her 
foot was upon a nondescript figure which lay prostrate and held a 
broken chain and a slave-whip. 

"Sic semper tyrannis ! ever thus, tyrants!" exclaimed the 
girl, in hollow, untrained tones, quoting the motto of the State. 



Her strong Roman nose well became the study, and her fine 
chin and throat and arching eyebrows. 

As she drooped her eyes, that had been raised in dramatic apos 
trophe while the curtain was coming down, they fell upon Lloyd 
Quantrell, and she started ; her foot shook the effigy, her bare knee 
trembled, and her lips parted. 

This impersonation had to be several times made to gratify the 
Virginians, but every time the actress turned a meaning glance on 
Lloyd, whose companions finally noticed it, saying: 

"Lloyd, the Empress is gone on you. You re lucky, for she 
has been cold as ice to every devotee of pleasure in the city." 

A waiter soon came to Lloyd with a piece of paper on which 
was written : 

"Do wait for me at the door ! I want to hear from home." 

She came out among officious and insinuating men, spurning all 
their attentions, and saw Lloyd s tall figure, and took his arm. 

" Come," she said, to my lodgings." 

They crossed the shady square under the Roman-French portico 
of the old barn-like Capitol, soon to be the insurgent government s, 
and saw the great brass statue of Washington and horse ride the 
moonlight like a wave of electrified cloud. Nelly boarded with a 
German family from the Valley, and in the little parlor she sat by 
Lloyd s knee and whispered nervously : 

" Luther is he sick ? " 


" Thank God ! But does he accuse me ? " 

" He has never spoken of you since, I hear." 

" O Lloyd, I could never have filled the place he would have 
put me in. Once I might have done so. I had struggled and 
prayed to be made humble to do my duty as a Christian minis 
ter s wife. Just as I thought I had triumphed, the devil appeared 
to me and made me as treacherous as himself." 

" It was not John Booth ? " 

" Who else ? I will not give you any lies. He set his traps for 
my ambition, and I fell to hell with him ! Did he never tell you ? " 

" Not a word. I was sure it was some other man or none." 

" Ah ! Lloyd, he can keep a secret well, especially if it is a dark 
and tangled one. That he calls honor to betray and not scandal 
ize his victim as if a woman would be content to find him false in 
everything but that ! " 


" Nelly, you hate him." 

" I fear him more. There is not one man in him, but many. 
Three devils possess him at different times, or all together pride, 
drink, and lust. The first and last of these are steadfast ; the sec 
ond is never far off. When he was drunk, I let him strike me. 
When he was proud and bullying, I flattered him. When he was 
false to me, I knew him, then, as I shall always know him, like a 
treacherous mountain stream, shallow but with dark pools until 
there is a flood, and then it is a terror." 

" Are you sure he was untrue ? " 

" Pah ! Everybody knew it. He expected me to nurse him after 
the fatigues of villainy. At Montgomery, in Alabama, one woman 
stabbed him, and then he came to me for sympathy, having the 
cool selfishness to suppose that where he really loved no offense 
could be taken ; for, Lloyd, if that gypsy can love anybody, he loves 

" God help him, then ! " exclaimed Lloyd, ungallantly. " Why do 
you call him a gypsy ? " 

" He looks like one. He acts like one. I have seen real gypsies 
in our mountain country, some of them English gypsies camping 
there. I think the boast of John Booth, that he was partly Jew, 
was to conceal the gypsy in his stock He loves a wandering life, 
has no social feelings, finds things out to profit by them like gypsy 
fortune-tellers, and can be still and cunning as a cat." 

" You mean he is like Hannah Ritner ? " 

"No. She is no gypsy, but a wonderful woman. Part of all 
our fortunes has come true as she told us that peaceful Sunday 
when I was well beloved " 

The girl stopped and choked down a sob, and walked the room 
rapidly, till Ouantrell said : 

" Yes, indeed ; all the game beneath the sun has risen before 
me since raiders, rioters, soldiers, tumult, and war ; Katy has lost 
her ring ; and something dark and white has marked you, Nelly, 
with the dark ; but, blessed be my dear little dove! I have the 
promise that she shall yet sing for me." 

"Go back to her!" Nelly turned and addressed Lloyd with a 
vigor which made him see that the natural actress was there; "go 
back out of this South, with its fierce, torrid passions and hopeless 
and audacious task of destruction ! I love you and Katy both, 
cheated and fallen as I am, and I speak out of the arisen knowl- 


edge of good and evil that woman has who has eaten of the for 
bidden fruit. There is nothing whatever in this Confederacy that 
is substantial, except courage and ferocity. Forethought, humility, 
or lawfulness, is left out of its constitution, and it will fight and 

" Nelly, that won t do here. I am a soldier of Virginia." 
" And I am going back to the Union lines ! Haven t we followed 
this disunion programme with our company I mean Booth s com 
pany wherever it has made a crowd? We saw South Carolina 
secede and forbid the payment of Northern debts, and steal the 
government forts. We saw Alabama go next, and refuse to let her 
people vote on the ordinance of treason. Mississippi, without any 
public credit in the world, next resolved to fight the United States, 
which pays rich and poor. They made the Union orator in Georgia 
drunk at dinner, so that his eloquence, which had been dangerous 
in the morning, would be silly enough in the afternoon to pass their 
silly scheme. The first act of Louisiana, after separating, was to 
steal the money in the mint, and of Texas to depose her President 
and hero, General Houston. These are the States which expect to 
raise cotton in the rear and let the border, like Virginia and Mary 
land, be overrun with their savages. Don t I know it? Haven t 
I heard them talk it in my presence? This rebel government is 
nothing but officeholders out of power and slaveholders out of 
hope, meaning to keep by force the offices the Black Republicans 
have been elected to ; and they will conscript their poor whites to 
fight for their negroes, until the hollow bubble breaks to a drop of 
lye, and then everybody, except the fools, will be glad." 

" How could you have seen the gentlemen of the South? " 
" Oh, an actor is a good deal more, South than North. That is 
why John Booth is such a Southern patriot. Think of that man 
being invited into respectable families, with his forked tongue and 
luring eyes ! He cheated me of my promised place in the bills and 
the casts ! " here Nelly seemed to show a double fury " but I had 
my callers and admirers, too generals, governors, coxcombs, and 
simperers and none without a title. The poor old officers of the 
army and navy they have compelled to resign, told me their real re 
morse and apprehension, at being made the waiting beggars of an 
experiment ; for in this confederacy all must join the dance of death 
all but the niggers, who are the princes of the country, and white 
men s sons go fight for them ! " 



" How did you get this fluency of words, Nelly ? " 

" By the great teachers of unhappy women, Lloyd Sin and Ne 
cessity. I have studied hard, in order not to be dependent on that 
man Booth. He has made thousands of dollars in this unsettled, 
feverish time, when towns fill up with crowds, and men grumble, 
and women lose their souls. By the sharpened wits of the castaway 
I see my needs, and earn money as I can ; for I am going to work 
hard to be a successful woman, and to marry- the man I love. He 
will fall, somehow, too ; we shall both have much to forgive. But 
when I can earn my thousands in the eminent walks of the drama I 
shall be worthy of his notice again, and I know oh, I know ! he 
loves me dearly ! " 

Falling upon her knees, the girl grasped Lloyd s hands, and cried 
again and again : 

" Oh, tell me so ! Oh, tell me so ! I am so lonesone for my 
love ! " 

" Nelly, it is a mercy to Luther that you roved away before you 
married him ! He did love you, and he may love you yet, but he 
sees you now too well to marry you, and he was slow and reluctant 
to ask you ; for I was there, and you said you could obey him with 
joy, and do your part in toil and saving for his sake." 

" I did ! I did ! If I could be forgiven now, I would leave this 
life of tinsel and jealousy, where we are homeless, persecuted, and 
tempted, and fed on hollow praise, to be Luther Bosler s Bunker 
wife, and ride with him through our native hills and valleys, visiting 
the sick, praying with the dying, seeking out the poor, and seeing 
my applause in the softly beaming stars, or feeling it in my peaceful 
soul and on his tender kiss. Will it ever come, Lloyd ? " 

" Nelly, I can t see it, but many things are possible to the perse 
vering, and God forbid that I discourage you ! for my father says 
that love can distill its own corruptions and be pure, and that I must 
not harshly judge love s aberrations." 

" God bless his old age for that ! " Nelly cried. " There was but 
one man kind enough to say so before your father, and he was the 
Lord of heaven and earth." 

" My poor girl, it was said by that man, Go" and sin no more ! 
Can you obey him ? " 

She rocked her head, intimating contrition and obedience. 

" In my father s spirit," spoke Lloyd, "and not to judge love s 
many willfulnesses and wandering paths, and because, Nelly, I see 



in you now a sensibility that interests me in your disposition for the 
first time, I offer you my friendship and confidence." 

He reached out his hand. She drew back and looked at him, 
saying : 

" You tempting, too ? " 

" No, my own dear love forbids ! Katy is mourning for me 
perhaps, also, as one without hope." 

" O brother among sinners ! Gentlest of proud and over 
bearing men ! May you, who can see anything good in me, find 
good in everything ! " 

She took his hand, and he kissed her as he would have kissed 
Light Pittson, in tender pity and respect. 

Often, while she remained in Virginia, Lloyd consoled this 
woman, generally taking her home from the variety hall, and all 
may have misconceived his motive ; for it is the despair of an 
erring woman that none can think of her except in her false rela 
tion, and they who treat her otherwise suffer in the same uncharity. 

Quantrell had other occasions to refer his conduct to his father s 

He was not only tempted to enter independent, partisan, or 
guerrilla organizations, and assume that Maryland had left the 
Union, and that he was entitled to carry her flag lawlessly ; but the 
Virginia authorities, to whom he transferred his allegiance, desired 
him to do a semi-spy business for them on the lower Potomac. 

"Not a. step will I make," answered Quantrell, "except as a 
soldier in line ! You can have my life in fair war, but my father s 
last command was, Never lurk within the lines in Maryland, and 
be a spy and a villain. " 

In spite of all attempts to carry Maryland into the great rebel 
lion, the city of Baltimore v/as occupied by the government, and 
gave no further trouble except in the way Abel Quantrell feared, of 
being of an uncertain mind trying to save the whole of slavery 
with one hand, a silly consistency with the other, and some of the 
Union if that Union, could take care of itself. Virginia was cut in 
twain by her western citizens, never to be repatched, and the 
western volunteers chased the secession troops across the Allegha- 

The insurgent President and Congress moved to Richmond, as 
Nelly Harbaugh had predicted, two months after they commenced 
the war, and Lloyd heard the former person describe the President 



at Washington in the polite terms of "an ignorant usurper," and 
speak of Virginia as "the theatre of a great central camp." The 
theatre, indeed, seemed to have become the society. This " Presi 
dent," from one of the Gulf States, closed by saying, "To the 
enemy we leave the base acts of the assassin and incendiary." 

Yet, the next day, Quantrell was sent for and told to go over into 
Maryland and arrange for a secret mail post, to give the new gov 
ernment the correspondence of its opponents. He refused to go 
farther than the borders of Virginia, and became a signal-officer 
opposite Pope s Creek. 

There lived on the opposite high mortar bluffs of Maryland a 
simple farmer, who had been raised in the family of the most ener 
getic rebel in that region namely, the Captain Cox who was 
pointed out to Lloyd in Port Tobacco. This Captain Sam Cox 
lived about six miles north from his humbler neighbor, Jones, in an 
agreeable residence near the edge of the great Zekiah Swamp, 
which flowed from springs near Dr. Sam Mudd s retired farm. 

The insurgent mail passed to Jones s Bluff in a row-boat every 
sunset, was sent on to Cox s by wood-paths, and went thence to 
Bryantown or Sam Mudd s, according to the urgency; and so a 
secret post-road was made all the way to Canada ; the government 
mails, intended to benefit the humble Marylanders, thus remote 
from railways, being unscrupulously loaded with treasonable intelli 
gence, and the cabal of plotters in Montreal and Halifax receiving 
by this route commands for material to run the blockade, and for 
incendiaries and pirates to annoy the free States from the rear. 

Surratt s tavern and post-office often received this surreptitious 
mail for Washington, and soon after the war opened Mrs. Surratt 
was left a widow, young, fond, and passing fair, and the young 
clerical of a son became the head of the family. 

None can tell how much a foreign interest, like the great Rebel 
lion, poisons an enterprising society through which may flow one of 
its secret drains. The liquor-dealer, Martin, who had accompanied 
Lloyd Quantrell to the lower Potomac, following out the clew of 
this secret thread to its termination in Canada, soon became a fitter- 
out of ships there, to run the blockade of the Southern ports ; for 
now the government and people were aroused, and a coil was 
being slowly drawn around the ambitious slave empire ; but the 
processes of law are ever more scrupulous and gentle than the 
spasms of insurrection, and it often seemed to Quantrell as if the 


Federal state meant, like the founder of its era, to be offered up to 
martyrdom rather than to exert its hea.venly powers and overwhelm 
its enemy. 

The character of people, and their errands, who crossed the 
river in the boats of Jones and others between Port Tobacco and 
Pope s Creek, tended to confirm Lloyd s appreciation of his father s 
acumen and advice. Mischief and avarice were their ruling motives, 
with some incidental devotion or necessity, and frequently nothing 
more profitable than restless curiosity or assurance. 

Some were trimmers and parasites, who desired to make their 
compliments to the insurgent side in case it finally prevailed, and 
slip back again and court the other government with timid counsel 
or interference. Others were speculators a class just graduated 
from the lobbies of legislatures, corporations, and exchange, in time 
to practice their craft in the fluctuations and surprises of a civil war, 
as wide as the continent, and paid for in notes and currencies issued 
for the hour. 

The contractor, the arms-manufacturer, the peddler, the gold- 
broker, the insurer, the schemer and hare-brained notoriety-seeker ; 
the Jew, traveling toward gold with the instinct of iron for the load 
stone ; the broken Northern politician, out of a job, and willing to 
serve any cause that would let him repay his salary in lip-service or 
gasconade ; the sinister lawyer, seeking to snatch some interest from 
danger or confiscation ; the huckster for cotton or treasonable loans ; 
the military beggar, of ruined habits, hunting a new commission ; 
the foreign mercenary, yesterday in jail, going to demand a gener- 
alcy ; the newspaper spy, intent on the highest sensation ; the ad 
venturess, who had heard that her intimate had become a cabinet 
minister; the seduced one, braving battle and insult to save her 
good name, and obtain the marriage-cloak in which to plague so 
ciety more; the loud-throated woman, who expected to beat the 
government forces by bellows-power and innuendo ; the popinjay, 
sneaking over to enlist and run away, or not to enlist and take credit 
for " patriotism " ; the aged crank, switching up some vagary on 
which he had ridden for years and been a bore to his species ; the 
clergyman whose congregation had refused to let him preach dis 
union and be paid for it all these swelled the motley tide of re 
bellion, and made even dull men think how their English ancestors 
had put treason highest of crimes, because it would supplant the 
system and order of the million with the wild anarchy of the impa- 



tient and ungovernable. A frequent errand of the go-between was 
to sell slaves on which he had a lien or heritage-right, and then run 
away from the war, and be sleek and compromising. 

The citizens of Maryland soon lost many of their slaves, although 
the Union army would return these and get no thanks ; while some 
of the slaves remained in nominal bondage in order to enjoy the 
profits and vices of the contraband trade. 

Along the Virginia shore batteries were thrown up to annoy 
shipping bound for Washington and the army; light gunboats 
cruised the river, and finally destroyed most of the yawls and skiffs 
on the Maryland side ; but there were women to do the work of 
spies after the men had been intimidated, and who trusted to the 
faith of men in women and men s untoward mercy for their safety. 

In the residences, standing high on the bluffs below Pope s Creek, 
a shawl or a dress would appear at a garret-window and be read by 
Quantrell s telescope to mean " Danger ! Beware ! " A woman s 
hand had stretched it, and perjury had been willful in her soul ; for 
the government administered oaths of allegiance to all who pre 
ferred its protection, or sent them within the insurgent lines. 

When this signal appeared, no boat would leave Virginia ; when 
it was withdrawn, the rebellion mail-boat darted out in the neutral 
light between sunset and the hour of setting the night-patrol, and 
came unobserved to the foot of the bluffs of shell and clay, left the 
mail in a hollow tree, took the return mail previously put there, and 
so glided back to Virginia like a water-snake. 

The United States never exerted its repressive hand like the 
fierce enemy ; and so the wages of avarice or mischief outbid the 
mild, occasional punishment of the spy, until one day, when it was 
too late, and the world was in woe, a single woman paid the penalty 
of her sex ; and the gallows, which should have met Lloyd Ouan- 
trell s telescope when he peered out at Maryland, became the solemn 
conclusion of the war. 

Atzerodt went into the trade of running the lines, and became 
more wretched and blustering than ever ; he would also drive spies 
and strangers toward Washington, stopping at Surratt s tavern. 

Nelly Starr and Booth passed the Potomac one day northward 
apparently reconciled, and Booth had a new piece of poetry he re 
peated with admiration, which had been written in Louisiana, to 
seduce Maryland to take the leap from treason s Tarpeian rock. It 
was set to the German air of " Tannenbaum," and said : 


" Hark to a. wandering son s appeal, 

Maryland ! 
My mother State ! to thee I kneel, 

Maryland ! 

For life or death, for woe or weal, 
Thy peerless chivalry reveal, 
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, 

Maryland ! my Maryland ! * 

" Dear mother ! burst the tyrant s chain, 

Maryland ! 
Virginia should not call in vain 

Maryland ! 

She meets her sisters on the plain ; 
4 Sic semper] tis the proud refrain 
That baffles minions back again 

Maryland ! 
Arise in majesty again, 

Maryland ! my Maryland ! " 

Booth had a mind up to the instinctive grade of this poetry, and 
no higher. He had been in the military lines a very little while, and 
found discipline too tame for his nature, and so he was leaving the 
South to fly from its sacrifices, but gorged with the consideration he 
had received there. 

" What are you going to do, John ? " 

" Lloyd, I ll try the stage in the Yankee States awhile, but they 
never warmed to my style up there. If I fail, I shall go into some 
of their speculations and make a stake out of them, and then 

" John, are you going to take all that money you drew from the 
Southern people, out of their country ? If you are really a brave 
man, send it to your mother, and come into the ranks ! " 

Booth bent his face to Quantrell s ear as he stepped into the ca 
noe, and whispered : 

" My boy, you ll hear from me before this war is over ! " 

Lloyd did hear from John Beall, before the war had well begun. 

That young man of twenty-six, tortured with apprehensions and 

by furies, had nearly departed for the Western States to be out of 

* " O Tannenbaum ! O Tannenbaum ! 
Wie grim sind deine Blatter ! " 


the reach of the war ; but, sucked into its Maelstrom, he stood, on 
the second anniversary of Captain John Brown s invasion, in the 
vicinity of his home, looking through the Lurlei s gap of Harper s 
Ferry, where ever sat the siren above the " Suck," and he saw the 
Union flag advancing, and the wide valley full of bayonets. 

" John Brown s re-enforcements have come at last, friend," spoke 
Quantrell, riding by. Lloyd had been given the congenial place of 
signal-man to General Joe Johnston, who was now trying to prove 
to his employers that Harper s Ferry was a hole and not a rampart 
but neither government could believe it. 

In five minutes more, Mr. Beall, who had been shooting at the 
" enemy " with the cheerless rage of a Covenanter on Magus Moor, 
was lying on the ground, with three ribs broken and an air-crack in 
his right lung. The district attorney, who had prosecuted John 
Brown to the gallows, picked the young man up and carried him to 
Charlestown, which was already familiar with another ballad of the 
war, sung in its streets by advancing and retreating thousands : 

" John Brown s knapsack is packed upon his back. 
And his soul s marching on. 

Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 
For his soul s marching on." 

The general to watch Harper s Ferry and prevent that hole from 
deserting somewhere, let the insurgent army behind it slip away 
through the Blue Ridge and swell the army on Manassas plateau ; 
and a battle took place, where three thousand fellow-countrymen 
gasped or sighed in pain and dissolution. 

" John Brown s army has failed once more," thought Quantrell ; 
" but what a scare he gave us, as before ! " 

The behavior of Lloyd in this battle was so fearless and cool, 
that he would have been promoted, except for three things the uni 
versal desire for office and commissions ; the utility of Lloyd to affect 
his native State in its peace and seclusion ; and a whisper that he 
was unsound on Slavery as the particular lamb of Christ and main 
purpose of salvation. 

So he was sent back to the lower Potomac, to superintend the chief 
sally-port of the blockaded hydra, and there he waited to hear from 
his wife, in love s great thirst and hunger ; while Hugh Fenwick, on 
the opposite shore, sent him reports of her spiritual condition re 
minding him of Luther Bosler s hostility to rebels, and Jake Bos- 


ler s hatred of all warriors and peace-breakers ; and poor Lloyd had 
promised his father never to enter Maryland, and could verify noth 
ing for himself. At last he did receive a letter in Katy s hand, and 
with Hugh Fenwick s addendum : 

" LLOYD : I haf been faithful. Haf you, Lloyd ? Sir, I am a poor 
girl, and I haf no wedding- ring. People and eyes up in heafen, too, 
looks at me, Lloyd. You haf deceived me ; but I bless you, if I 
must die ! KATY." 

Quantrell had been playing Katy s accordion, and he took it up 
and drew a shriek of anguish from it to stifle his own. 

Queer pains had been in his head and back all that day, and his 
ears were buzzing; and as he read what Hugh Fenwick added, 
his eyes swam and he could not see : 

" LLOYD : Your wife has run away from home and can not be 
found. They say in the Catoctin Valley that you are the cause of 
it. She knows that in Richmond your heart and honor were trans 
ferred to Nelly Harbaugh, the actress, and it broke her heart. I 
pray for you and for the cause. Pray for me, who married you in 
error ! You are free from Katy, and she is as your widow. Christie 
Eleison! t HUGH." 

" O Abel ! my father ! " cried Quantrell ; " come to me in my 
desolation ! Nothing is left but you no mother, no country, no 
wife ! " 

They said it was the bilious fever of the old Potomac country, 
which laid him for months on the bed of fire and ice, and raised him 
to be the shadow of himself. 



KATY had grown close to her brother in her desertion, and he, 
deserted by Nelly, made his sister his idol, and filled her pure soul 
with spiritual food. Suspecting that the flight of Lloyd had given 
her pain, Luther, never dreaming of his sister s matronhood, kept her 


tenderly at his side, and every Dunker congregation along the South 
and North Mountains, from Virginia to the Susquehanna, knew this 
constant couple. 

Long before day they would be up and away, to attend market 
at remote old towns like York, Carlisle, and Winchester ; or auc 
tion-sales, to which the country people loved to repair ; or Dunker 
love-feasts and celebrations. In those still, starlight times, in the 
hush of mountains and of woods, Luther told Katy of creeds, and 
heard her prattle of everything but that which made her soul cold 
with fear. 

Little did he know that the miracle was repeated of which he 
often preached, in that tiny form at his side, or that quickened 
spirits rode with him, and that they, twain, were not alone together. 

She, filled with the agony of a double secret, looked upon her 
brother as her priest and judge ; but she dared not make him her 
confessor. That place Hugh Fenwick filled, and his consideration 
for Katy was equal to her brother s. 

She inspired love more now than ever, as she bloomed out of 
the scrawny stem of girlhood to life s accomplishment; and poor 
Jake Bosler, who had feared her nervous energy and premature pas 
sion of love were breaking her down, saw with joy that his child 
rounded and grew more beautiful, until she almost made him fear. 

" Katy leave fader Bi m-by," said Jake, thinking of marriage for 
his girl. 

" Fader," said Katy, " I must wait for Lloyd. Will te war last 
long, fader ? " 

" Te city mans, Katy, fooled your little heart. Tere s Nelly down 
in Washington, gone from Luter to pe wicked. My little girl, if you 
would leave fader like dat, my heart would preak on my olty s 

As Jake Bosler kissed her, he did not know the pain he had 
made. Katy prayed and prayed, and lay awake hearing the ram 
upon the roof, and walked to the window in the night and saw the 
valley, in ghostly sheets of fog, fall like a deluge around a nearly sub 
merged world ; or saw some red planet burn on the mountain s 
crest, like shame with leveled eye seeking her out. 

She lost her brother, too, when his rising indignation at the se 
cession intrigues, and at repeated raids upon the Dunker valleys, 
recalled to his warm brain the soldierly prophecy of that singular 
woman who did not merely tell fortunes, but told, and instigated, 


character also Hannah Ritner ; and as Luther stood in the Bunker 
meeting-houses to pray, there would roll through his mind like a 
drum : 

" Attend the bugle-horn, 
And all thy merit see ! " 

The influence of Abel Ouantrell, that strange, suggestive man, 
like the prophet Samuel, carrying among the sons of Jesse his 
anointing horn, was also felt by Luther, and his admonition, " Go, tell 
your people everywhere that Christ is for liberty," had never ceased 
to plague the Dunker preacher s conscience. 

At last he raised his voice, like Balaam of old, and blessed the 
Union camps, almost against his will. 

The old Dunker conservatives heard him, and muttered together 
that, since that worldly Nelly had cast him off, his talents and mental 
disorder had made him a lunatic. In vain did he demonstrate that 
the German Baptists were the oldest anti-slavery men in the world, 
saying in Antietam church : 

" Te German brethren was te first apolitionists. In German s 
town, py Philadelphey, when te earliest slaveholding Quakers had 
only peen six year in tis country, te protest against slavery was 
writ py Hendricks, Op den Graeff, and Pastorius, saying : We are 
against te traffic in mens-body. Those who steal men, and those 
who buy or purchase them, are they not all alike ? As here is lib 
erty of conscience, which is right and reasonable, here ought to pe 
likewise liberty of pody, except of evil-doers. This makes an ill 
report in all those countries of Europe where they hear that " ye 
Quakers doe here handel men like they there handel ye cattle " ; 
and for that reason some have no mind or inclination to come hither. 
Have tese negers not as much right to fight for teir freedom as you 
have to keep tern slaves ? " * 

The English secessionists fanned the Dunker hostility to Luther 
favoring war and resistance, and he realized the marvelous foresight 
of the prophetess who had counseled : 

" Though in the church they censure some, 
Pain and duty keep thee dumb ! " 

The slaughter of Senator Baker s command at Ball s Bluff he 
who had been President Lincoln s neighbor and Broderick s funeral 
eulogist aroused the German military nature, as the musketry re- 

* Pennypacker s " Settlement of Germantown, Pennsylvania." 


verberated on the Maryland hills ; and from the town where Booth 
was born, another Union Governor was selected. The insidious 
Legislature, which had slipped away to Frederick, was dispersed by 
the government before it could assume to vote Maryland out of the 
Union, and the two Maryland regiments drew each other s blood 
in the Valley of Virginia, fighting under the old and the opposite 

Before all this had happened, Luther enacted the part of Muh- 
lenberg of old. 

He preached one peaceful autumn Sunday ; drew tears by his 
emotion and eloquence ; solemnly suspended himself from the Dunker 
sect, and rode to old Sandy Hook, where General Banks was col 
lecting an army, and enlisted as a private soldier in the cavalry. 

While he was at Charlestown, encamped on the site of John 
Brown s gallows, his colonel sent for him and gave him a letter. He 
opened it and found a commission as captain in the quartermaster s 
department by order of Abraham Lincoln, at the request of Abel 
Quantrell and Henry Winter Davis. Luther trembled, as he re 
membered the lines : 

" To hollow heart the hollow drum 
Beats peace and victory." 

Luther was ordered to repair to the city of Washington, where 
Mr. Davis the only Marylander who had voted in either branch of 
Congress for compensated emancipation, in both the Federal city 
and his own State took him by the hand, and led him to the new 
Secretary of War, saying : 

" Mr. Stanton, you wanted an honest man to supervise your 
quartermasters and buy horses and forage for your armies. Here he 
is a Dunker preacher, enlisted in the lines." 

" The hour," said Mr. Stanton, looking at Luther with consider 
ate brown eyes through his glasses, " is the test of every true con 
science ; and that you broke the traditions of your life, to lay that 
life down for your country, as a humble soldier, recommends you to 
me, who am of Quaker and of peaceful instincts, too. Go about 
your duties ! Come freely to me, and be my friend, amid all this 
falsehood and deception. If ever your scruples against war return, 
tell me so, and you shall be honorably discharged ! " 

The manly, nervous diction and delicate feeling, smote the young 
man dumb, but it was the dumbness of worship. In the next min- 


lite he heard the same Secretary order a brigadier-general, in tones 
of thunder, to quit his office and the city, or have his shoulder-straps 
torn from him in the streets. 

From that moment Luther never doubted the success of the 
government armies, nor that the nation would emerge from the 
conflict with every false sentiment and sham stamped under the 
Quakerly Stanton s feet. 

The reoccupation of Virginia awakened young Mr. Beall to the 
truth of John Brown s prediction, made to Lloyd Quantrell on the 
mountain, that the Great Valley would be the inevitable line of war, 
and would be the Man king route, to alarm the Government at Wash 
ington by marching to its rear. Yet both sides continued to regard 
Harper s Ferry as the key of every campaign, and, like the Irish 
man s recipe to make a cannon, they took that round hole and 
wrapped it about with brass. 

John Beall, who had recovered from his wounds, marched down 
the Valley with Stonewall Jackson, and saw the handwriting of war 
upon his farm and county, and heard the stave of John Brown s 
hymn roared in the church where he was vestryman. He resolved 
to leave Virginia, and settle among his kinsmen in the West. 

In that interval of grief and chagrin, of Highland Scotch and 
Indian rage, there appeared to him one day a lovely vision, as he 
strolled by the old tan-yard at Charlestown it was the remembrance 
of Katy Bosler s great, soft eyes. 

" This war has leveled all distinctions," said Beall, who was a 
self-communer, and had no intimates among men. " I will marry 
that girl, and take her to Iowa." 

He had an impetuous brain, and that evening found him inquir 
ing the way to Bosler s farm. Katy saw him come with joy, hoping 
he had news of Lloyd. 

" Are you engaged to Mr. Quantrell, Kate?" Beall asked. 

" Oh no, sir not engaged." 

Katy remembered her secret, and told the truth. 

" I thought not ; for Quantrell is an honorable young fellow, and 
he was very attentive, in Richmond, to Miss Nelly Starr, the actress, 
who is quite a different person. Katy, your home and mine are in 
the lines of war, and the war will be long, and battle and blood will 
finally drink our souls in. My blood has been shed already, and I 
have killed my enemies. I want to go away and live out my days, 


and escape the dark temptations hanging over me. Will you go, 
too ? " 

Katy s soul was full of woe, and she had not heard one sentence 
between the first and the last. Nelly Starr, with her fervent beauty, 
had cast her arts upon Lloyd and made him false to his wife as to 
his country, and the gentleman at her side had asked, " Will you 
go, too ? " 

" I must go," cried Katy ; " I can not stay ! Oh, fader loves me 
so, it preaks my heart ! Te little lame man comes efery night to my 
bed, and says, I want your soul, Katy ! Last night he had his 
hands on my head and feet, at te spring-house, and told me to say, 
All between tese hands pelongs to de divel ! I tried not to say it, 
but I couldn t help it, and it had most come, when Hannah Ritner 
come riding down to te spring and shouted, God ! God ! she pe 
longs to God ! " 

Katy had thrown herself upon her friend s shoulder in terror and 
confidence ; and he caressed her kindly, his distant and reticent face 
growing studious of her weakness. 

" You do belong to God, my dear child, and can draw me to His 
will. The day is at hand when every white man must labor, and 
will need a wife with the spirit of frugality and toil. I will take a 
mill and a farm in Iowa, and lead you there from the dangers of 
your native valley, and you will be my wife." 

" Oh, no ! " cried Katy, shaking herself loose ; " I did not unter- 
stant you, John Beall. Pefore you can marry a Union girl, git a 
Union heart ! Then all te troubles you make in your mind will fade 
away, love will come easy, and friends will pe efery where." 

" W T here is Quantrell ? " the young man asked, in Virginia hot- 
ness that his condescension had been so sincerely rejected. " Why 
can t you make him one of your Union men ? " 

" He is in te rebel army, waiting to be winnowed with te good 
wheat, I pray ! If -we nefer meet, heaven is all union, and no seces 
sion there." 

Beall looked at her a moment with pale rage and wonder, her 
rounder figure swelling with emotions of piety, and her eyes bright 
with the enthusiasm of the martyr. He resumed his hopeless, 
pinched expression, saying : 

" The women, too, have joined John Brown s gang ! " 
"Why don t you go py Lloyd in te rebel army?" asked Katy. 
" It is safer for you, and out of bad temptations." 


" Because I have not the spirit of discipline. Because my mind 
is infested with brooding and impatient purposes. I want revenge ; 
I want to retaliate. The example of old Brown has never left me, 
and it will make me a hero or a fiend ! " 

" Say Te Words ! cried Katy. " Lloyd said Te Words/ and 
was saved. I ll say tern to you, John Beall, and wickedness will fly 
away ! " 

She whispered in his ear the names in the Trinity. 

He trembled a moment, and then tossed his head with contempt. 

" Poor Dutch superstition ! " he exclaimed. " Farewell, Katy of 
Catoctin ! " 

" He s drived te Holy Spirit away ! " sighed Katy, looking after 
him with gentle tears. " He s lost ! " 

With Luther s sound head and strong hand gone from the farm, 
Jake Bosler was like one without his wits. Luther in soldier-clothes ! 
Luther in the government ! Luther a great man of the world ! All 
Dunkerdom was full of visions and backsliding ! 

Old fellows in short coats would come out of meeting, on the 
green, to talk about it, and forget the subject in its mightiness, till 
they would disperse, merely saying, "Well, luss mohl sae" 

The blooming Bunker girls, all suffering for Luther s absence, 
would huddle together before meeting and ask, " Him ? How ? " 
and then all would laugh with little sallies and alarms, " He, he, 

Katy would come up to these, and some would stare at her and 
some would say, " How s Lloyd ? Is Lloyd a rebel ? " Some would 
also whisper and have decided looks, and follow her to the very 
horizon with their eyes. 

Katy was the sincerest of Dunker devotees. Her tears might 
have washed her feet ; her Lord s supper was eaten every Sabbath ; 
she read the holy book to find her wedding-ring, but nothing could 
she see there but women s sins, sufferings, and tears. 

" Oh, where is te brook I must wade down to find it ? " her 
frightened soul cried. " I ll take off my shoes in this cold, icy 
weather, and go down te bed of efery brook only tell me where ? " 

Did Katy ever think the brook she waded was made by her 
tears ? 

As Jake Bosler was drawn by Luther into the government busi- 


ressbuying and fattening steers, selecting mules at Baltimore arty 
searching the mountain counties for horses his monetary instincts 
aroused again, and Katy was left much alone, for which she was 
veiy grateful, although Gilmore s men and Mosby s spies, and long 
lines of white deserters and fugitive slaves, traveled northward on 
the mountains, and replaced the wild beasts of old. She did not 
fear the face of man, but only the face of woman. When woman 
goes astray, with men alone she finds equality and refuge though 
woman should be kindest. 

Hugh Fenwick came sometimes to see Katy from Washington, 
where he was at present a government clerk, having his quarrels now 
and then with the priests and conventual people ; and, as for his 
politics, nobody could tell what it w r as from day to day. He boarded 
with secessionists and never rebuked them, and he took the govern 
ment oath. Katy could no more understand him than she could her 
dog Albion, which was often left alone with her days and nights, 
and seemed to have a human soul, though a disagreeable one. 

When she or any other person was happy, as after a Union vic 
tory, or election, or at baptism, or old neighbors reconciliations, this 
dog grew surly and unsympathetic, and would dart out and snap at 
the cat or bite a chicken ; but when musketry sometimes sounded in 
the distant hills, or forests were afire upon the long spines of the 
mountains, or a quarrel of any kind arose, Albion was like a gym 
nastic smile, leaping and pointing, unctuous and sinister, possessed 
of the devil, some said, and yet at such times affectionately insinu 

When Katy sat in the great mystery and gloom of one aban 
doned by love and confronting heaven and death, with health superb 
if only sympathy and honor were by her side, but ignorance and 
secrecy wrapping her around as thick darkness, and in her house 
and heart, even in sleep, the knockings and movings of a spirit 
abroad this dog would softly creep to her feet, climb upon her lap, 
and lay his spotted muzzle against her cheek, and his hazel-yellow 
eyes would burn in the darkness like lamps in mines, seeming to 
say, "You are lost, and I fill the bridegroom s place." 

He never let her disappear, but followed her everywhere. At 
midnight he was astir if she was looking in the dark. His kid-brown 
nose would come cold against her hand in the sighs of prayer before 
dawn. When he heard John Beall say that Lloyd loved Nelly Har- 
baugh, he fawned upon the relator like an heir-at-law. He hated 

3 88 


the doves in the apple-tree, and often pulled Katy s gown to go and 
look at them, and see him strive to leap to their nest and put them 
in distress. 

Katy loved these doves, though they reminded her of Lloyd s 
killing the dove upon the mountain, and receiving the great old ban 
dit s rebuke. She sang over Job Snowberger s coo-roo song to them, 
and the old doves knew her well, and left her in the fall with many 
soft adieus, taking their young away. When they were gone, Katy 
had nothing left her but Albion, and the mystic guests that came 
unseen like the wind in the pigeon-cote and the weasel in the nest. 

It was nearly Christmas when Hugh Fenwick paid his last visit 
to Hosier s farm. He brought sunshine with him generally, for he 
was only clerical in his affectations, but in realities was healthy, 
blooming, genial, and sympathetic. The church was his fastidious 
conceit and passport to a rarer society of virtue and respect, and 
Katy had tested him well to see if a coarser earth was covered by 
his piety, but found only abiding reverence for herself, with certain 
peculiarities of the moral weakling and the ecclesiastical prig. 

He prevaricated, and was less sincere about essentials than 
forms ; had a conscience which he could quiet by formulas and pen 
ance, believed in mild acts of deceit if they pointed to good conclu 
sions, and approached nothing by the bold right line, but had humor 
and even gayety, and often just and humane impulses. 

The mountain girl felt that his affection for her was stronger 
than friendship, and based upon something like fear of her repro 
bation ; pity, also, controlled her feelings, in that this man had been 
so weak before her ardent and compelling lover as to open to her 
the door of happiness and anguish, by marrying her with anticipated 
authority because caught in the meshes of his own boasting. 

Improbable as this act still seemed to Katy, like a dream that 
must yet pass away, it was no more than Cardinal Wolsey s pre 
varicationold as America s discovery by which, against his will, 
he divorced a wife and remarried a king, and entrapped himself by 
moral weakness into deeds his conscience shrank from. 

In Fenwick were two races seldom mixed the impulsive, uncer 
tain Irishman, and the colder, formulating German ; and these hot 
and cold currents gave him two natures the social and the ideal, 
the effervescent and the mystical. Not quite legible to himself, the 
estimate Katy Bosler made of him was shrewd up to the limits of 
her inexperience ; no other man was so comforting to her, though 


she feared he might be her lover, while she desired the better nature 
in his friendship. 

The dog Albion was also extravagant in his friendship, for Fen- 
wick always brought him a present, like a ribbon or decoration of 
some kind, with which the aristocratic animal performed taking on 
a sudden frigidity, being consciously indifferent to the remaining live 
creation, stalking in the front of the house to bark at all strangers ; 
and the more he was decorated the more he was inhospitable. He 
licked the priest s hand, while rejecting the bounteous nature in Katy. 

" O Father Hugh," the girl said, at last, with will and woe, " am 
I not married ? Is te law so bad I can not get te wedding-ring ? 
Maype Lloyd deceived me, too. I hear he was making love to Nelly 
in Richmond. Oh, why haf I not had letters from him ? Where can 
I go ? You must save me ! " 

" Katy, he took advantage of me, too, poor fellow ! I had boasted 
a little, for then I expected to be soon a priest ; but Lloyd bullied 
me, and I took pity on you both, knowing how great was your in 
fatuation. Oh, the penance I have done ! And the worst is that 
Lloyd has not been faithful." 

" Perhaps you are a false friend ! " cried Katy, her eyes fierce 
with the wisdom in despair. " Where has your friendship left me, 
sir, while Christmas is pefor me ? I am a good woman, put no 
wife. And now you accuse Lloyd ! If you are te devil, I will hit 
you with Luter s inkstand, like Friar Luter, in te Wartburg ! " 

She took the ink-bottle up from the eating-table, and the semi 
narist failed to cross himself, as he had started to do ; for he was 
afraid of. this woman physically afraid ! 

The dog barked at Katy, snarling all about her feet, vicious as if 
she had ever been his enemy instead of his only friend on the globe. 

The impulse was too mighty in Katy not to give her misery 
vent, and she turned upon the lesser spirit of evil : 

" You ? " she cried to the clog. " Ah ! it was you who p inted 
me, like te mountain dove, te night Lloyd Ouantrell come." 

She threw the ink-bottle at Albion and beat him with the broom, 
till, splotched with black and sore of ribs, the creature howled and 
ran, and Fenwick let him out at the door. 

Pale and exhausted with the spasm, and repenting of her treat 
ment of a guest, Katy relapsed to a helpless woman when silence 
had given Fenwick courage to speak. 

" You are sorry you are Mr. Ouantrell s wife ? " 


"No," exclaimed Katy, on her remaining breath of spirit. "I 
won t say that, if he deceifed me. If he has gone away and forgot 
me, I won t say that. Te priest and te people, te church and te 
world, may p int at me like that p inter-dog, but I am God s child 
and, above tern all, I call on God to come, and come quickly ! " 

" Katy sister I have not been your confessor in vain. I am 
here to assist and save you, and your severity is not of yourself. 
Come away ! You shall see Lloyd ; you shall have the protection 
of the Church s sheltering arms and walls in Washington. There 
are conventual places under our control open to the wounded 
yes, to the betrayed." 

" I am not petrayed," cried Katy ; " I don t believe it. This 
war te slaveholders haf got up against te Union of our country 
has petrayed many a poor man out of home and life, and me out 
of a wife s name. I will not hide ; I will stay here and die ! " 

She sank into a chair and felt faint and swooning. Fenwick s 
impulses broke down his timidity, and he came and knelt at her 
feet and bathed her eyes with cool water. 

" I must be firm, my child. You shall be made happy, and I 
must take you away. Your father worships you ; your brother is in 
Washington. I will send for Lloyd to come." 

The dog whined softly at the door ; the wind blew, and snow 
came down the chimney upon the failing wood-fire. 

" Lloyd ? " sighed Katy. " How can he get through te 
lines? " 

" Easily. I can have him brought across the Potomac, passed 
into Washington as one of our priestly refugees from the South, and 
made your fellow-prisoner in walls of the faith no government can 

Katy raised her head. The picture of Lloyd with her so soon, 
so close, so long, came like the phantom of the arisen Lord to 
Mary Magdalen, when the angel said : " There shall ye see him ; lo, 
I have told you ! " 

" I have a carriage here ; the night will be cold, but our robes 
are buffalo and lamb s wool." 

The feet of his horses she heard on the frozen ground. 

" Decide, Katy ! Your father is overdue. Time is precious as 
your fame in this valley and the peace of this honest house. You 
can say that you went to find your brother in Washington, that 
Lloyd is there, and that I came at his request for you." 



She stood up and said to herself in simple prayer, " Let me 
think of eferypody but me ! " 

The nature of the prayer contains the answer, and this was in 
stant as the glance of love : 

" Hugh Fenwick ! Lloyd s fader said he would pe a villain to pe 
coming through te lines, like a spy. I won t tempt Lloyd to come. 
If God takes his life, let it pe where my brother Luter s life is en-, 
listed in te honest lines of battle ! " 

As the neophyte shrank before these words, the chivalric sense of 
which the true woman perceived as if she had been a military law 
giver, Katy also felt admonitions beyond the help of sentiment. 

She fell to the floor, and knew no more. 

" I must exercise my discretion," Hugh Fenwick spoke, bending 
nervously over her. " Old Jake, her father, will find her here and 
go crazy, and she will lose the brightness of her soul, that is to me 
the only saint I worship. I will carry her to the carriage and start 

He had lifted her tenderly in his strong arms and reached the 

The dog outside was fighting desperately with some one, and, 
as Hugh Fenwick opened the door, this person darted in, kicking 
Albion off, and exclaiming : 

" Katy, unshuldtch ! Unshtcklich ! I m come, on one of 
Shwester Marcellus s errands, and te dog won t let me persewere ! " 

The breath of the evening revived Katy s senses. She slipped 
from the grasp of her uncertain friend, and spied a package in Job 
Snowberger s hand, which she seized with a kiss of joy upon that 
bashful monk s least obdurate cheek. 

A letter in the old German patozs said : 

" DEAR CHILD : I, have kept you in mind, but the public enemy 
in Richmond put me in jail for my attention to our prisoners, and I 
am just home, at dear old Snow Hill in Pennsylvania. I send you 
my roan riding-horse to come instantly to me ; he is very gentle and 
sure-footed. If you do not miss the road, it will be only twenty-five 
miles to ride to Snow Hill. I have often done it in an afternoon 
on Charlie. Brother Philodulus will come with you, buj; he is a 
poor guide and often loses the roads. Come over the mountain, 
and not around it ! I w T ill show you where to wade down the brook 
and find your wedding-ring. HANNAH RITNER." 


" God ! God ! " shouted Katy ; " I pelong to God ! " 

She sat in ecstasy and wrote the letter to Lloyd Quantrell we 
have seen him receive, and bade her father, in writing, also be of 
good cheer, and gave the first letter to Hugh Fenwick, to forward. 

" Where are you going, insane child ?" Fenwick demanded. 

" To te one woman in te world, I guess, who is not ashamed of 

" Coin to persewere," explained Job Snowberger, as he put Katy 
on one of the horses and climbed on the other himself, and they 
dashed northward and away. 

Hugh Fenwick stopped superstitiously in the road and muttered 
a prayer beside his carriage. 

" Is it a devil who has carried her from me ? " he concluded. 
" I will recover Saint Kate for the salvation of my soul, or be a 
monk and leave the world ! " 



" TICK-A-TOCK-A ! " 

IT was very late in the afternoon, and Job Snowberger explained 
that he had once lost his way in the tangled mountains, and they must 
ride hard to get anywhere before midnight. Katy felt the incentive of 
desperation to be clear of her own neighborhood and escape meeting 
her father, and she gave free rein to the beautiful horse, whose feet 
on the frozen road went " tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a," 
in that carefully taught gait easier than the pacer s, where the hind 
feet seem to shuffle and the front feet go on, like the shuttle and. the 
eye of the weaver at the loom. It was the single-footed rack 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

The gentle gelding, compactly built, and his back steady as the 
seat of a rocking-chair, felt the double instinct of a lady s necessity 
and his dear mistress awaiting him ; and the gallantry of a " gentle 
man of the old school " rose to his black mane and free head. Beals- 
ville was passed, and, leaving on her left the dear road over which 
she and Lloyd had ridden to church, she skirried up the creek s side 
to the north 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

TICK- A- TOCK-A ! " 


Ah ! thought Katy, should she ever again have Lloyd s head 
upon her breast and see his tears of contrition flow, and his face 
among the disciples eating the Lord s feast? 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

" The Lord sent this horse," Katy thought ; " I wish I had my 
old dog, Fritz, too, so steaty and strong." 

The strawberry roan shied and lost his rack, as something 
growled at his heels and flashed on before like a spotted and bleached 
will-o -the-wisp ; and then, as Katy recognized Albion in the place 
she had hoped for Fritz, the racker s black-striped back settled 
easily down again, and his black tail streamed, and his black feet 
slid over the ground 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

The snow came down finer and faster as the shades of evening 
deepened, and over the twinkling lights of Wolfsville Katy looked 
toward the Black Rock on the mountain-top, where she had been the 
queen at picnic-parties before the coming of Lloyd Quantrell for his 
doves. How happy and wistful of love then ! How unhappy and 
thornful of love s fruition and poverty now ! How uncertain that she 
would return and have that simple happiness again if to throw away 
love s power and dread knowledge ! 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

The evergreen cedars kept their fresh tints in the snow, but na 
ture in general seemed dead. The woods upon South Mountain 
seemed bare and open, save where the firs and pines stood to 
gether in bunches, like the last of old men. Some crows, hastening 
home to their rock nests, cawed, up among the snow-flakes, like the 
poor mountain people going home from work to hungry children. 
A rabbit ran once or twice, leaving his leap-marks in the snow- 
sheet, and snow birds came abroad as if the Lord s white table-cloth 
were spread over the world, and only the very tiny and very cold 
ones were bid to his feast. Job Snowberger suggested that they 
could stop all night in Wolfsville ; but Katy cried " No ! " and dashed 
across the creek, and on the steep ascent the strawberry roan made 
bleak music 

" Tick-a-tock a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

Katy had barely made her decision, when she felt the lonely dis 
tance and wild region it implied, with night and winter upon the 
untraveled mountains where they were wildest, and twelve miles 
of their fastness, at least, before her, and the snow growing deep. 



She saw the parallel ridges pinching the valley and lifting it up, 
and gnarled and naked apple-trees marked the few homes and mea 
ger farms. Job Snowberger at her side, riding a rougher animal, 
sighed, and tried to keep up with Katy, and his many groans all 
took the articulated sound of " persewerin ! " The night came 
down black, with snow-flakes making the blackness visible, and they 
saw a light in a field near by. 

" I must ask te way," said Job, " or we may freeze to death on 
te mountain." 

She followed him into a kind of lane, and soon there arose above 
their eyelids an old tumbling house. 

" Why, Job," whispered Katy, " tis is Nelly Harbaugh s teserted 
home ; and who can pe in it ? " 

She rode up to the window and looked within, while Job dis 
mounted and tried the door. 

Katy saw a number of men feeding a fire upon the floor. Some 
she recognized by their blue and gray capes and coats to be de 
serters from both rebel and Union armies. They were vagrant, 
thievish men ; and some were sleeping, some quarreling, some gam 
bling, while other persons she knew as dealers in contraband things 
and mountain parasites of the times of war the man who sold 
civilian suits of clothes to deserters and bounty-jumpers, the un 
licensed whisky-peddler, the army horse-thief, the ruined slave- 
catcher. Above them all, the firelight showed Nelly Harbaugh s 
pastings of actors and actresses from the newspapers, with Laura 
Keene, in " The American Cousin," largest of them all. 

Suddenly Katy saw Job Snowberger enter this cabin, unaware of 
its contents, and ask a question. 

Before his mouth was well open, he was surrounded and forced 
to the floor, and his pockets searched. He shook himself loose, and 
Katy saw him glance furtively around the bare walls as if for some 
window or weapon. 

" Unfershamed (barefaced) ! Unshicklich (improper) ! " Job 

The pointer-dog at Katy s feet barked loudly in the night. 
Hearing the sound, the tatterdemalions within turned their heads 
from Job Snowberger, and rushed out to see what else had come. 

Katy had just an instant to observe the action of Job Snow 
berger before they were upon her : he had leaped on a table dis 
ordered by refuse food, whisky, and cards, and he brought from 



over the door, where he knew its place of concealment, the old gun 
of the sergeant, deserter of the army and of his child. 

The thievish gang had seized Job s horse, and, guided by the 
dog s loud information, had nearly distinguished Katy in the dark, 
when she, with self-resources never tried before, cried loudly : 

" Fire on tern, Union men ! " 

To Katy s astonishment a gun responded, and a blaze of light, 
and the agonizing yelp of a dog. 

" We re surrounded ! " cried the cowards, and vanished in the 
snow-storm down the mountain gulleys. 

"I m a-persewerin ," sighed Job Snowberger, recovering his 
horse and carrying the old gun along, " but I m backshlided, too." 

" How, clear Job? " cried Katy, riding after him. 

" I ve made war and I reckon my soul s lost," observed the 
man of peace, very inconsistently adding, " Hooray ! Seech-retch ! " 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " went Charlie s feet 
in the snow, and Albion limped after them, still howling fearfully, 

"Job," said the girl, unable to see him in the dark, though he 
was at her side, " I guess you re not very wicked, for you ve fired 
that load all into our dog." 

" Hooray ! " cried Job again, intoxicated with his personal prow 
ess ; "can t you love me some, Katy, for savin of you ? " 

"Yes, Job only keep your hands to yourself and don t pe a fool 
this awful night ! Pray for me I m a-growin blind, and can t set 
my horse much longer." 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " in the bare places 
of the snow-drift and on the broken stones. 

Albion, really wounded by the old flint-lock of earlier wars, de 
faced by writing-ink, and receiving no pity, must needs go on or 
perish now, and it was hard traveling for him. 

" Poor dog ! " called Katy, out of her own misery, to the snarl 
ing, squeaking brute. 

He snapped at Charlie s heels, and received a side-tip from the 
shuttle hoof which laid him fairly on his back, howling to all the 
nations for benignant intervention. 

" Coom on ! " cried Philodulus, chattering with the cold ; " te 
more we mind dat beast, te less he cares for us ! " 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock a ! " 

The wind now blew on the high staircase of the valley, and the 
highest rills of Catoctin Creek gurgled away behind them. As the 


snow ceased to fall, black and wind-bellied clouds moved overhead, 
giving just light enough to note solitary peaks or knobs in the 
gullet of the valley, and the ear was smitten by the crash of super 
numerary trees resisting not the death-chill of old age. The South 
Mountain seemed also to have died and to be laid in the valley, that 
had risen to its stature ; for it had disappeared in the west, and all 
around them was a sort of spongy and stony glade, in which the 
good gelding, wet with sweat, still made a sound with his feet, like 
the last American slave picking on his old banjo : 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

" We re most come to Foxville and te hickle-te-picklety roads," 
Job Snowberger said, through his great coat-collar; "I don t know 
which is which, but I m persewerin ." 

A charcoal pit of ignited logs set upright in a circle and covered 
with earth appeared now in the roadway, giving a little warmth and 
light, but no person could be seen, although Job hallooed loud ; 
and he noted that there were forks of the road, both going to the 

" fck cons hardly du!" groaned Job ; " how can one persewere 
when he comes to two roads, and both p int right ? " 

"Go ofer te mountain and not around it, Job, te letter said." 

" Te right-hand road seems straightest," Philodulus sighed. 
" Te left-hand road may take us back agin, on down te mountain, to 
Cavetown and Beaver Creek." 

"O my friend, decide! I am not able to ride much furder ; if 
I git off my horse, I nefer can get up agin." 

" Katy, stay here py te fire ! Te war I was in to-night has 
turned my wits. I ve shipwracked te faith, and with all my perse 
werin unshuldtck! I love you." 

His voice trembled, and his bachelor blush was felt in the 

"Job," cried Katy, "if I was aple, I d git off tis horse and slap 
you ! Holt that gun away from your chin, and don t pe leanin on 
it ; it might haf loaded itself." 

" Katy, stay py te warm fire ; I ll guard you all night with this 
wicked musket, and gif you my coat to lay in. We don t know te 

" Sir," Katy cried, between modesty and despair, " I dare not 
wait one night, one hour ! Go on, some way, any way or I shall 
fall in te snow and perish ! " 

TICK- A- TOCK-A ! " 


" Let te dog decide, then," Job Snowberger cried, shouting to 
the clog to go forward. 

The dog chose to go to the right. 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

They soon heard water trickling, and found themselves following 
a rill, and the wind began to lull, and the sky parted, letting some 
moonlight through. The wood-paths divided again near a mountain 
clearing like a hermit s farm, which lay as in a triangle of gaunt 
ridges, and showed a ruin but no habitation, and the dog again 
went to the right, following the stream, perhaps, to bathe his burns 
and bruises ; and this stream was so near the track that in its over 
flows it had covered the latter with stones, like a road-mender, or 
rather road-destroyer, showing, by the widening light, a dreary 
stretch of uncrushed rock, hard sandstone, and other primal stones 
which would not roll round in the washing of centuries, but re 
mained hard and unshapen like a savage race. Over these infinite 
stones the good horse picked his way and stumbled, and his knees 

" We must surely pe comin over te mountain now," Katy 

Of this broken stone there seemed miles, and yet the cold brook 
just beside it had a talk to itself, as if it were gliding comfortably 
onward among the stunted oaks. 

" If Charlie could only wade in there," Katy thought, " he 
wouldn t bruise me so. Oh, I am sore as if I was full of stones, 
and every step shook tern ! Maype tis is te brook I am to find te 
book and te wedding-ring in." 

There stood a cabin of logs near the road, and Job shouted for 
people, but only brought out some lean fox-hounds, which chased 
Albion along the broken stone, and their yelp filled the night. Katy 
lost the stream awhile ; but it returned soon with the power of other 
affluents, and began to enter the impressive walls of unseen mount 
ains, making themselves felt like dungeon-walls in darkness. There 
were easier declivities in the road, and again the single-footed racker 
made a sound like the living spirit of some former water-mill 

" Tick -a tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

" O Shwester Kate ! " Job Snowberger exclaimed, " dis love tey 
talk apout, is te worst of all te Christian s life. Bruder Martin Luter 
was so persecuted py it that he tried to drown it in te Rhenish 
wine, and te drunker he got te more he was peteviled, till he had to 



marry a nun. Maype, if you was to marry me, I could write music 
like Conrad Beissel and Friar Luter." 

Job raised his voice and sang, in high, piping notes, the Christ 
mas-eve hymn of Luther : 

" Give heed, my heart, lift up thine eyes ! 
Who is it in yon manger lies ? 
Who is this child so young and fair? 
The blessed Christ-child lieth there. 

" O Lord, who hast created all, 
How hast thou made thee weak and small, 
That thou must choose thy infant bed 
Where ass and ox but lately fed ? 

" O dearest Jesus Holy Child ! 
Make thee a bed, soft, undefiled, 
W T ithin my heart, that it may be 
A quiet chamber kept for thee." * 

Thus the legend of Asia replaced with its songs the owls and 
katydids of the American forest. Katy listened with awe and con 

"Happy could I pe to lie down in a manger, too, Job, and rest 
my bones ; but here is neither ped nor stable ; and if it is midnight, 
we are in Christmas-eve ! " 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

They could see the inclosing mountains now raise their heads 
like the Wartburg Castle, where Luther composed and burned, be 
tween the dual poles of the human and the divine passion. Pulpits, 
lofty and cold as Calvin s, on the steep streets of Geneva, those 
rock-shapes seemed ; or, like the papal tiara, they towered above 
the little stream, or bishops caps in the narrow alleys of Rome. 
So runs the rill of human nature through the ramparts of creeds ; and 
travelers, down the brook, want an inn more than heaven ; and if 
the inn is full, a bed in the stable. 

Shelter, shelter ! how much is it of joy ; and what word of pain is 
like that one of " shelterless " ! Katy wondered if the infinite millions 
spent in temples and churches to provide homes for people in heaven, 
might not afford this world a bare shelter, and straw on every road, 
like the birth-bed of Mary s untimely-born son in the tavern-stall. 

* Catherine Winkworth s translation. 



" Tick a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

With snowy luster, rocks and bare woods shone, and mountain 
sides upheld the hemlocks, and in the damper places grew long, 
open groves of beech-trees, as on the bowlder-strewed slopes of the 
German mountains of Harz. Cedars dung to stones, and spread 
their roots around them like a hand from the grave, pulling the 
tombstone in. The little pines leaned against the precipices, starving 
rather than leap down ; the little oaks roved up the desolate ravines, 
and moonlight shone on a wood-chopper s chips and gleaming axe ; 
the only signs of animal existence. Nothing moved no rabbit, nor 
squirrel, nor bird ; and the only sound they heard was of the foaming 
brook, now grown to a fierce torrent, and defying the frost to fasten 
it more with silver chains. Piled in that torrent, like maledictions 
from the overtopping cliffs, were mighty rocks flung down and stay 
ing the water in cascades which roared, or boomed, or tingled, 
according to the resistance ; and beneath them were hollow basins 
in the stones or pools, suspiciously silent after so much conflict. 
Signs of coal were to be seen in the ledges where the road had 
delved its way ; and down the slopes the horse, with yielding knees, 
bore Katy, sometimes giving her a shock that seemed to bring an 
echo, and to make her cry aloud, till poor Job Snowberger, himself 
nearly dead with charing and jolting, would cry, pipingly, " O Katy, 
perse were ! " 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

The brook was so long, so wild, the road so steep and unknown, 
that Katy was sure it was the brook she was to wade down to find 
her wedding-ring, and at every circle of the moonlight on the path 
she was thrilled with the thought that the magic hoop of gold had 
been reached. 

The dog had become confidential, and trotted at her side, and 
sometimes the shaggy woods and precipices made a deep, impene 
trable shade, beyond which a seeming path would open on the 
torrent. At one such place the road seemed to end, and a fallen 
tree appeared to have been felled to notify the travelers. Job called 
to the dog to go ahead. The animal was soon heard yelping in 
the bottoms to their left, and there Job Snowberger, in opaque 
darkness, forced his faltering horse, and Katy followed. The limbs 
of trees struck them, and thick brush galled their limbs, but still 
the pointer-dog barked seductively, as if to say, " Hasten and find 
security ! " 



They followed along, and there soon appeared light, as from 
above, upon a smooth place like a trodden way, and in the light the 
dog was seen at a stand, tail out and muzzle toward them, and fore 
leg raised. 

Job Snowberger pushecf along, and the dog bounded before him, 
and was next seen on a stone amid the deep roar of unseen water 
a stone with lichens spotting it, and clay upon its smooth, large 
face. Albion barked again, and again he came to a " point," as 
Katy had seen him do so often when congenial mischief was 

" Stop, Job ! Te dog never p ints fair." 

Job pulled up suddenly and he was on the edge of a chasm that 
would have swallowed him up, at another impulse forward of his 

Below him the creek had made its way beneath the bank, leav 
ing the old bed dry and rock-strewed, and its abyss was ragged 
with sharp stones whetted by the freshets and cataracts which had 
laid them bare. 

" O treacherous hound ! " cried Job ; " and, Katy, he s perse- 
werin yet." 

As the dog stood on the stone beyond the chasm, revealed in 
the streaming light through the tree-tops, and still insidiously 
tempting the travelers on, something seemed hurled at it out of a 
bow or catapult, and this thing skipped right up the opposite bank 
like a flying mass of rock with eyes and muscles in it. 

Both horses trembled, and seemed to swoon down upon their 
bellies, and to blow terror through their nostrils. 

The opposite steeps and thickets cracked and shook for a few 
instants, as if with convulsive life. 

Then, on a high rock, above the torrent a hundred feet, a beast 
emerged like a great cat, with ears turned outward and lashing tail, 
and stripes upon its sides. It bore a parcel in its teeth, and, stand 
ing upon that, ripped the object with a jerk of its black-shadowed 
and shining neck. 

The horses turned and rushed back into the woods, and re 
gained the road over the trunk of the fallen tree, and bounded away 
regardless cf descent or obstacle till, under Katy, the good racker 
found his cultivated gait again of 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

" Gracious ! what is it, Job ? " 

TICK- A- TO CK-A . " 40 1 

" O Shwester Kate ! I ain t seen one on te South Mountain 
for years. It was a catamount, a painter, and he s killed and eat te 
dog ! I reckon he had prowled te bare mountain for food till he 
was tesperate." 

"He s killed te dog that p inted me," spoke Katy, shuddering; 
"but it was Lloyd s dog, and I pity him." 

Yes, Albion might have become a favorite on the sea-coast, and, 
as an exotic, have lived several years of luxury; but he fell a victim 
of the American interior, whence a few 7 animals of the provincial 
habit and spring still issue forth. 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

The single-footed racker soon entered a region with signs of life 
and improvement ; some remains of mills and mill-races were seen, 
and finally open fields and barns, and at last a town stood huddled 
in the sheen of moon and frost. Their horses stopped at an old 
stone tavern on a corner. 

" Is dis town Vaynesporo ? " piped Job Snowberger, to a man 
who was shutting up the tavern windows. 

" Waynesboro ? No ; this is Mechanicstown." 

" Oh, unsktcklich ! Unshuldich ! Katy, we ve come around te 
mountain, and te kloster is on te furder side." 

"I reckon," said the landlord, "you ve come down Big Hunting 
Creek. It s a wonder you tidn t lose your lives. If you d took the 
same road the other way, you d come out at Smithsburg, or Cave- 
town, and been in the Cumberland Valley ; but now you ve got the 
mountains to cross again, and you re fourteen miles, the shortest 
way, to Waynesboro." 

" I couldn t help it. Te dog did it. I was a-persewerin , Katy," 
Job piped in tears. 

A feeling of despair, followed by a resolution of the highest 
energy, seized upon Katy Bosler. Sending Job peremptorily to bed, 
Katy took the landlord aside and minutely inquired the way to the 
Dunker Nunnery of Snow Hill. 

"The easiest way is to go to Emmittsburg, eight mile from here, 
and take the pike. But there you re no nearer Waynesboro than 
from here. The shortest way is to go up Owen s Creek to Har- 
baugh s Valley, and turn over the South Mountain and over the 
short mountain beyond it, and from that view you can see Waynes 
boro standing out in the plain. Snow Hill is three miles north of 




"I want my horse fed pefore daylight," whispered Katy "te 
strawperry roan, that racks. Please let that man sleep, and wake me 
without noise. I ll pay you now." 

After a night of strange, deep, yet haunted sleep, Katy was 
awakened and started on her journey. Another creek flowing out 
of the mountain s mane, gave access to pierce the mountain s head, 
and by abyss and overhanging height, rock and cascade, narrow 
pass and cave, the fainting child went on, crossed the South Mount 
ain, and looked back on nature wildly broken and uptilted, and she 
scaled the next mountain s notch among frozen cascades which she 
felt to be tributaries of the Antietam. 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

From the fissure she descended there suddenly stretched under 
and away, like a golden scarf, the zone of a prodigious valley in 
snow and field, stack and large barn, pike and town, miles on 
miles ; soft to the hollow palm of heaven as the young head of 
David, in its silken curls and rosy blushes to the transparent hand 
of the prophet, full of shining oil. 

The sun was sinking in the west, and as it basked upon the faint 
gray line of the North Mountain, thirty miles away, it seemed to Katy, 
this eve of Christmas-day, to be the star of Bethlehem the wise 
men had followed, and the abundant plain to be the gifts they had 
brought the new-born baby in the stall gold, frankincense, and 

She was delirious now, and only knew the town in the fore 
ground of the great valley to be Waynesboro, and down the mount 
ain tripped her gallant roan 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 

Waynesboro has been passed ; she knows the old Dunker meet 
ing-house on the Little Antietam, with its ten doors and windows in 
the low story of stone ; she is in the noble woods above the lower road 
in the valley, and sees the old white Dunker mill ; and she has fallen 
from her horse to the earth at the monastery door and read the 
notice posted there : 

" By order of the trustees of the Snow Hill Society, the under 
signed do hereby notify the loafer or vagrant not to call for lodg 
ing or otherwise annoy the people, as the law will be used." * 

The fainting soul applied the warning to herself: she passed 
through the long, narrow house by an open hall, passed to the rear 

* The author copied this from the door of Snow Hill Dunker Nunnery. 

TICK- A- TOCK-A ! " 403 

and saw no one, and entered the little dairy among the shining- pans 
and tins. 

In the water seemed a circle of silver or gold mystically rip 

" Te ring ! " sighed Katy, and sank upon the cold floor. 

When she could see, or recollect, she was in bed and very weak, 
yet somehow happy. She heard singing of a queer, shrill kind, and 
looked upon something that shone upon her finger. What could it 
be that had slid, as if from heaven, upon her slender hand ? 

" Dear," spoke a voice heavy with music and tenderness, like the 
bass of Lloyd Quantrell singing, " you have found your wedding- 

Hannah Ritner was standing by the bed, as well as Abel Ouan- 
trell, both looking at her with interest gracious and mutual. 

Katy looked again at the dear-bought ring, and saw that Han 
nah had nothing like it upon her hand. 

" Won t you give her one? " Katy whispered to Abel Quantrell. 
" It is so comforting! It makes me feel that Lloyd is mine." 

" Hannah," said Abel Quantrell, " we always were in love : cube 
it ! Love, multiplied by offspring, and once again by opportunity, 
make the three times the base. Take the child s ring, and I will 
put it on your hand and call you wife. " 

" No, master. The sacrifice shall be complete : your younger son 
by this marriage would suffer in his careful sense of honor. Our 
son has become nature s own, and does not need that we should 
wear a ring." 

" Sho ! this child is not married. Are you, Kate ? " 

Katy flushed even in her weakness, but, remembering the prom 
ise of secrecy made to her lover, she took the ring from her hand 
and gave it to Hannah Ritner. 

" I come a good ways to git it, teacher," she said, "but maype 
it pelongs to you. Oh, I feel so happy. What is it ? " 

"This," said Hannah Ritner, holding up a little sleeping babe 
which she drew from Katy s bed. " Here is Saint Christmas, born 
in the dairy of them who never marry. Take the child, master, and 
look at it awhileyour second grandchild while I ride for the doc 
tor ! " 

As the old man looked at himself in the third generation, and 


Katy wondered what it all could mean, they heard the single-footed 
racker go out the lane : 

" Tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a, tick-a-tock-a ! " 



SNOW HILL was a remnant ; once a wilderness cloister, or so 
ciety, which had possessed bright - eyed converts and intellectual 
piety ; but with beauty and youth intellect had also died here, and 
the old printing - apparatus and printed books, the natural "music 
and mechanical craft, traces of which still continued, only empha 
sized the dullness and strained devotions of a fragment, which had 
property enough to make internal contentions, and where Job Snow- 
berger had till now been the beau and baby. 

Katy s baby was the first convert Snow Hill had made in many 
a year, and Job s " nose was out of joint," as the saying goes. 

He came half-way in the door to see the baby, got a glimpse of 
its palpitating head, and went off into the mill to cry and to blush. 
Had Job been the sole witness of baby s advent into this world, he 
must needs have left Katy at the road-side and run away. The old 
belles of the nunnery looked into the mill and made faces at him, 
saying, " Dummkup" or dunce, and executing little waltzes and 
jigs quite novel to the holy life. 

Some of these silly virgins peeped through the crack of Katy s 
door, to see the young mother and babe on Christmas-day, and one 
walked in, looked at the bed a moment, and said "l&ntt" meaning 
" brat," and turned up her nose and seemed to blow disgust through 
her nostrils with her eyes ; but all that afternoon this woman scoured 
the tins in the dairy till they were bright enough to look into, and 
show her reflected, unexpressive face, the wick of whose experience 
had never been trimmed and lighted, so that, in the darkness from 
it, the bridegroom had gone past. 

And that night, when all were gone to bed, this queer, round- 
faced, sour-looking woman of forty or fifty years, crawled up the 
stairs and into Katy s room, and reached beneath the quilts to where 
the baby lay, and, taking it tenderly forth, put it against her breast, 


and saying, " Bubbelly, bubbelly, labe goot," or "baby, by-by" burst 
into tears. 

Katy looked up in wonder, and reached for her child. The 
woman turned from her in a kind of quarrelsome pout, sniffed 
again, and stole away. 

" Hannah," said Katy, after she had rested some days and grown 
strong, " why is love so natural and tangerous ? " 

" My child, there came into this world a stranger to its nature 
called Pride, and began to whisper to people till they elected two 
evil spirits to watch them, called Scandal and Appearances. Since 
then, no baby has been like the young of other animal life around 
it, where song and gamboling, innocent delight and no evil-think 
ing, make nature unceasing Christmas, and every opening bud, or 
egg, or infant eyelid, a redeeming spirit. Man only, looks beyond 
life both ways, before and hereafter, for the portion all things, be 
sides, find in living. How came you into the world ? Where will 
you go after the world ? These are the questions which man 
asks alone. The rest of nature sings and loves, and holds to the life 
that is." 

" No, Mootter Hannah ; else why is baby-life ? " 

" Life aspires to life. Death itself, left alone, rejoices in the 
seed that is dropped into its decay, that it may sprout and bloom. 
To Nature, the triumphs of intellect and society are nothing, my 
child. What are all the vanished empires, the social systems, the 
ology, science, literature, and conquest, to the subtle mechanism of 
your little babe, which eats and sleeps and dreams, which blesses 
you and drives down the dark stream of time the mirror and spirit 
of ourselves ? The toil of Shakespeare s head is to Nature lost, but 
a babe, even of Hagar, the desert animals will protect. Seed is the 
only end of Nature, and the earth is still its garden. God said to 
Pride, 1 will put enmity between thy seed and woman s seed. " 

"O teacher, how can I tell people that this is my baby and I 
haf no wedding-ring ? Must I pe wicked ? " 

" To Pride you may be, my child, but not to Nature. Our sins 
were forgiven by the blessed and unfathered Master, in the great 
court of the Pharisees, when he wrote upon the ground with his 
finger in the dust and said, Go ; sin no more. " 

" Our sins. Have you sinned, too, fortune-teller? " 

Hannah Ritner looked up and saw Katy s dark eyes shine upon 
her pale, white face. 


" I have had a lover and a son," said the seer. 

" Was Lloyd s father your lover ? " 


As the dark woman faintly blushed, Katy leaned over and kissed 
her and said : 

" Then, Hannah, you re my mother. " 

" I can be your step-mother, my dear child, and I have tried to 
be. From the day Lloyd brought you to my cabin I have taken a 
mother s care of you both. But my son is older than Lloyd ; 
Lloyd s mother wore the wedding-ring, and this babe has society s 
protection, while mine " 

" Why," cried Katy, " Senator Pittson must pe your son ? " 

" My son," spoke Hannah Ritner, proudly, "has the protection 
of the angel which said, Thy son will be a wild man, and he shall 
dwell in the presence of all his brethren. * He is in the councils 
of his country ; Nature has never marked him with his Egyptian 
mother s shame, but in the bright blood of the passover, and he does 
not fear ! " 

Katy listened with astonishment at the secrets of a society she 
had esteemed far above her. 

" I told you, my child, that you should find your ring by the 
book. Let me open a page of the beautiful book of human nature 
that is printed in the rose-leaves of my heart ! I was a child like 
you, a woman when scarce in my teens, and inspiring love in the 
master at whose feet I was his pupil. He was strong and weak as 
Samson of old. I pulled his justice and resistance down, but never 
sheared his strength away. I sent him on his course, and let him 
marry and increase, lest the humble life he would lead with me 
might rob his country of his services." 

" Would he marry you, Mootter Hannah ? " 

" I would not let him make the sacrifice. I was poor, of influ 
ential connections, but romantic and independent like my grand 
child, Light. When Abel Quantrell loved me, as I knew, by the 
intuition which makes me read people s fortunes, I saw his solitude 
and hunger of heart for my sympathy and companionship, and I 
knew his poor mother and her large brood were living on his pit 
tance in their distant and rocky New England State. While our 
Pennsylvania lawyers persecuted him as a stranger, I felt the daring 
compass of his mind, and saw his infirmities lame, penniless, ten- 

* Genesis xvi, 12. 


der, and ambitious ! I gave his heart rest, and would not add my 
burden to his back, nor let the fatherhood of his boy rest on his 
reputation. Men have often been unselfish enough to refuse a 
woman s hand lest she might be dragged to a lower sphere by them. 
I found the compensation of my sacrifice in an older friend one I 
had refused who took my son to the West, gave him his name, 
protected his secret, and gave him education. That true republic, 
where neither ancestral merits nor sins affect a man s deserts, sent 
Edgar to the Senate at Washington." 

" Mootter Hannah, are you happy? " 

" My child, who is ? I have my cares ; for woman is still a social 
animal, and sensitive to the criticisms of her own sex. My master 
was not as true as I have been he married." 

Katy kissed her friend upon her great, rich, upturned eyes. 

" Forgive him even for that ! " the young mother said. " That is 
why Lloyd lived to come to me." 

" My simple dove, I saw in your lover s face the lineaments of his 
father, and toid your fate as it has come we are both deserted ! " 

" Oh," cried Katy, " it is te war, not Lloyd ! " 

" Is the cause Lloyd fights for, against his strong father s will, 
holy enough to justify the son s selfish anticipation of pleasure in 
your young life and soul ? He could not wait, but let you wait and 
suffer. His father yielded, too, when the temptations of material life 
came to him a lady of beauty, gentleness, and wealth, and family 
influence in politics. I do not murmur that he forgot me, for I had 
exacted no terms in the almost maternal passion I felt for his dis 
tress ; but he forgot his son, and his son has a daughter, who looks 
into my eyes and rejoices in her noble paternity, while my step-son 
strikes his own father to the heart as he reflects upon my child ! " 

Katy could not understand all this refinement of confusions, but 
she listened on : 

" Ah ! " cried Hannah Ritner, " there is a taint of self and gain- 
seeking in these Yankees, with all their philanthropy and idealism : 
Franklin himself was voluptuous and politic, though he loved knowl 
edge and abstract justice. Look at the brother of Abel Ouantrell, 
following him to Maryland, and setting up a slave-pen to earn 
money ! Does Abel wonder that his son, Lloyd, grows up without 
domestic reverence, is predatory in love and violence, and strikes 
his country in the face ? Give me, after all, our sweet, unselfish, 
and commonplace life and motive of the Middle States : we profess 



less, we are slower in public spirit, the outward deifying of morality 
we are not skillful at doing ; we do not hate systems and people 
from far off, like the Jews of old, sparing neither Philistine nor 
Amalekite ; here persecution never went beyond gossip and back 
biting, while yonder it banished, hanged, and whipped." 

" Hannah, ain t you an apolitionist ? " 

" Yes : I gave my enthusiasm when I gave my all, to the proud, 
obdurate man whose self-love never has conquered his indignations. 
I recognize his righteous leadership as Miriam, the sister of Moses, 
prophesied and danced to his law. The great contest with slavery 
I helped to bring about : John Brown received from me shelter and 
direction where to strike the vital spot so close to the free States 
that Virginia and her slaveholding posterity in the West must 
needs fall within the seam of war, and slavery everywhere meet a 
common doom. I must now cherish the soldiery of our cause, and 
keep watch over the new captain of our hosts, the President at 
Washington. He hesitates between mercy and the old statutory 
gods. He must come to the nature of John Brown, and strike the 
dragon at the vital point : slavery it must fall ! " 

Carried away by impulses powerful as those may have been 
which gave her love s reckless impulsion, Hannah Ritner arose, 
seeing not Katy nor anything except the lightning-play in her 
stormy soul, and she planted her feet as upon remembered heights, 
and looked away, yet inward, as if down at chasms where her life 
had been banished, and still remained in lonely entanglement with 
the lines of imperial movement. Her nose was long and hollow, 
like a bow which shot impressions from without into her brain. 

" I believe slavery will fall in these mountains ; that its grave is 
by the Potomac, and that the echoes of its death will die along the 
South Mountain side. The soul of my friend awaits the reverbera 
tion. Yes, he awaits companionship, and I hear the sound of its 
feet ! Who comes, so joyfully, with the whistle of victory, and 
careless as the happy schoolboy s mind on Friday afternoon ? 
Who comes at holiday s brink and bears the sheaves of harvest and 
does not see the hunter s trap ? Oh, linger, linger, gentle friend, 
for the tyrant hides in wait, his expiring mortality concentered in 
one blow ! It has fallen : I see him reel across the open grave, and 
the Emancipator is caught up by the Pioneer Death ! Death ! but 
Victory ! " 

As Hannah Ritner sank down by Katy s bed, a gun went off 


directly beneath the window of the room, and was followed by a 
piping cry of 

" Persewerin ! Wictory and te heilich life ! " 

It was soon reported that Job Snowberger had been fooling 
with the old gun he found in Harbaugh s cabin, and had shot him 
self, painfully, but probably not fatally. 

All sorts of tales were told about Job s accident. Some said 
that he had become vainglorious since he had fired on the rene 
gades at Harbaugh s, and brought Katy safely across the mount 
ains, and that he had taken to drilling and marching, and had 
finally shot himself to experience the feelings of the wounded. 

Others said he had lost his wits trying to understand the mys 
tery of Katy s baby, and had some way conceived himself to be the 
undiscovered guilty party. 

Others told a queer story about Job being desperately in love 
with Katy, and tortured between his affections and his vow of 
monkish celibacy, and that he had resolved to persevere in the holy 
life if he had to commit suicide. 

Whatever the mystery of his act, Job was a changed man when 
Katy came down from her room after some days, and offered to at 
tend his bed and return his kindness to her. 

Fie was now completely indifferent to her charms and coquetries, 
and read the great book called " Der blutige Schau-Platz," or " The 
Baptist Martyr s Looking-Glass," which his father had set up in type 
at Ephrata, and he composed bits of music under the pages of Con 
rad Beissel s hymns in the " Turtle-Doves " collection ; and toward 
spring got about, and remained silent, pious, and a -little sour till the 
end of his life. 

Some of the bad boys used to call names at Job over the fence, 
such as " maz dle," and " gowl," and " asle " ; but he was deaf to 
their tantalizations, and still the warrior spirit revived sometimes in 
him, as in Narses and other generals of the past ; and the next fall, 
at the love-feast of Snow Hill, when the Seventh-day Baptists were 
imposed upon by the thousands of disorderly spectators, Job, to use 
the neighborhood saying, " whipped his weight in wild cats," to the 
battle-cries of " persewerin ," and " te heilich life." 

Relieved of Job s attention, Katy had no other male friend than 
Hugh Fenwick, who came across from Gettysburg to find her, and 
a council was held as to the attitude Katy should assume. The 
novitiate did all the advising. Katy was to await a time when her 


lover could see her and explain himself, and meantime was to apply 
her mind to The Book, or, as Hannah Ritner said : 

" My darling, the brook you are to wade down to find your wed 
ding-ring is your tears of penance and passion ; the book you are to 
use for direction may be the Holy Scriptures, or it may be educa 
tion. Seek which of these and both may be needed to satisfy 
you will fill up the uncertain and contending years till the prodigal 
lover finds his way back to his father s door." 

" Hugh," asked Katy, " maype you had te right to marry 
me? " 

" Katy, I have looked it carefully over. By the law of 1777 no 
person can perform the marriage rite but established or dissenting 
ministers, or Romish priests appointed or ordained, and only after 
three times publishing the names in a meeting-house of the bride s 
own county. The recent law of marriage is more rigorous yet : 
No persons in Maryland shall marry without a license and triple 
publication, nor except by some minister of the gospel ordained ac 
cording to the rites and ceremonies of his or her church. None 
of these conditions are answered in your case, and clandestine mar 
riage is forbidden by Rome itself." 

Hannah Ritner brushed back her long locks of black and silver, 
and looked the speaker through and through. 

" I am baffled in your character," she said. " Do you understand 
it yourself ? " 

" No." 

" It may be like the kitten s marks in the snow, gone over and 
over in her puerile play, till they are without clew or even form. Yet 
you have had some purpose with this girl. Why did you marry 
her to Mr. Quantrell ? Why do you discourage her now, and see 
your duty as you disobeyed it? Why are you here again, after your 
act has driven her from home and made her a mother ? " 

Fenwick could not withdraw his eyes from her, though his soul 
was seeking to slide away, like a man from his own deepening 

" Answer ! " said Hannah Ritner. " Was it because you loved 

" Yes. I saw her suffering. Rather than see her suffer, I mar 
ried her to another. Everything at that moment seemed excusable 
to me, and the reparation easy. I thought my superiors would give 
me indulgence and confirm my presumption. They dare not do it ; 


and I am now in secular occupation, fearing the legal and eternal 
consequences of my sacrilege." 

" Ah ! " said Hannah Ritner, " how many a man mistakes his 
cowardice for religion and evidence of his fitness to be a priest ! 
Katy, can your simple soul understand why I will not solicit a cere 
mony to make love and constancy more exalted, when it must come 
from a frail creature like this man ? Yet I think he is no villain. 
His avowal that he loved you had the touch of nature. Do you love 
her yet, Fenwick ? " 

" I do," sighed the neophyte, with downcast eyes. 

" Go ; trust him ! " spoke the seer to Katy. " Love with respect 
never harmed any woman, and his will not harm you. He is a part 
of the book you must master. Your husband has deserted you : 
prepare yourself for life, even if it brings you the wedding-ring from 
a second husband." 

As they turned to go, the babe in Fenwick s arms, Hannah Rit 
ner called him back. 

" Do not think, sir, to prevail over Lloyd Ouantrell by any trick 
of deceit ! There is a man that Rome itself will stoop to, for the 
poor privilege of closing his eyes at death, and numbering him 
among its distinguished converts. He shall compel Rome to do 
this child justice, if Rome must make you a priest and antedate your 
ordination to effect it. That man is Abel Ouantrell, to whom I am 
a higher power than Rome to you." 

As Katy and Fenwick stepped out upon the lawn, the fruit-trees 
in blossom, and the blue flowers and water-rill stirring in the May, 
they sat upon a bench at the thick-walled church, and looked back 
at the nunnery in silence. 

" That woman could be a pope," the young man said. " Nature 
is the widest church. In time it will absorb them all, and God be 

For months Katy applied herself to The Book. She read much 
of the fifty books issued from the Ephrata press, wept over the 
Scriptures, and joined in the devotions of the household. She was 
of natural piety ; but her mind leaped along and over the barriers of 
this perishing monastery and its dull existence. Hannah Ritner s 
influence kept her a welcome guest, and her beauty the sour old 
women deferred to. Her name was changed to " Sister Azuba," 
or " The Deserted." 

Sometimes Hannah Ritner took her away awhile, among the 


hospitals and on the steamers of the Sanitary Commission, and she 
saw the bleeding edges of the mighty war that at one baptism im 
mersed the wide continent ; but her child called her back, and she 
learned to love the cove among the Bunker hills, and to hunger for 
the books of human knowledge. 

"Lloyd must not find me ignorant," she said. "And first I 
must learn the English language ! " 

So Katy set to work to destroy the old German sounds upon her 
tongue that had almost grown physiologically into the brain. 

The Pennsylvania Dutch speech had no written language nor 
grammar nor fixed forms of orthography, and was a colloquial lan 
guage with hardly any literature ; * but it was spoken by nearly a 
million of the American people, less from preference than from one 
unvaried race intercouse of above a hundred years. 

The long e where the short one should be used, the use of oo for 
u and of aw for the short o, the mixing of / and d and of p and b, 
of/ for ch and of g for tsh, the confusing of the two sounds of s 
and of th, and saying/" for v and w for v, and the leaving out the h 
sound after w, were the true labors of the German Augean stable, 
which required a river of English to purify it ; for, under a decay 
ing language, ignorance hides like dust and mice on unused books. 
Katy was a little of a poet, and she set these defects in verse : 

" Eggs are not aiks, tunes are not toons, 
Dogs are not tawks, spoons are not sboons ; 
A gill you drink, a chill you sweat, 
At jests you laugh, in chests you get ; 
A gem you wear on a chemise, 
But play no zell on the polize ; 
The vine you grow, the wine you bottle, 
The which you whistle, the witch you throttle ; 
It iz a job to chop Jane s chain, 
Not, iss a chop do job Chane s jane." 

During all such exercise, in which Hugh Fenwick was a teacher 
to Katy, he received Quantrell s letters by the secret mail and sup 
pressed their tender messages and contents, appeasing his con 
science by the arguments that Quantrell was not worthy of his wife, 
and not entitled to communicate with loyal people. Many a prayer 
did Hugh Fenwick make as penance for this deceit, promising to 

* Rev. A. R. Home, Kutztown, Pennsylvania. "German Manual." 


present Katy s soul in conversion at the altar as a brand plucked 
from heresy and sin ; and he also sublimated his patriotism, declin 
ing outwardly to speak to a secessionist in Washington, while he 
was also the guest at Surratt s tavern in the country until it had 
been rented to a dissipated Washington policeman and, after that, 
a guest at the widow s Washington boarding-house, where occa 
sionally harbored some lodger between Canada and Richmond with 
a rebel commission in one pocket and the government s oath of 
allegiance in the other. 

Fenwick saw these things while he was in the public service, and 
cautioned the hostess mildly, but never expressed his indignant sen 
timents, if, indeed, he had any. 

The part he loved to solace himself with, was that of a disinter 
ested mystic, supervising, for authority, and without any earthly 
prejudice or consideration, the higher relations of the soul. 

He had the self-love of a religious amateur who denied to him 
self the real purposes of his double-dealing, which were to mold 
Katy to his social likeness, marry her, and in some church or other, 
it mattered not which, become a comfortable and somewhat sensa 
tional ornament. 

The mystery of such a being was, that he had a nearly devout 
respect and love for his friend s wife. 

Hugh met both Abel Ouantrell and Luther Bosler sometimes, as 
well as Nelly Harbaugh. 

The senior Quantrell and Henry Winter Davis had both antago 
nized the President, as had the great body of professional abolition 
ists, partly because the latter were on record against him and their 
dear intellectual self-love, strengthened by the delights of having 
been right when only a few, resented the rule of a man who meant 
to obey the laws first, and, if possible, make the law and not lawless 
ness destroy slavery. With every personal ambition to emancipate 
these blacks, the President had even a higher duty to preserve the 
republic, for which every aristocracy and court were lying in wait. 
Emancipation without America, which was nothing but the United 
States, would be like the voice of Rachel, in Rama, weeping for all 
her children. 

" Cube it ! " sternly demanded Abel Ouantrell. 

" I shall," said President Lincoln ; "and, if I understand a cube, 
it is a solid, and not a sound. We want our country back. You, 


Uncle Abel, are like a friend I had in Illinois, who had a home 
made cherry bounce, bottled up since his childhood, and powerfully 
heady, of which he used to drink too early in the morning, and it 
made him see everything in pairs. He was about your age, Uncle 
Abel say seventy when he celebrated his birthday by falling down 
stairs. He saw two balusters one was there, and one wasn t there, 
and he took hold of the one that wasn t there, and fell all the way 

The tall President had dropped into his chair while speaking, 
and rested his long feet on his heels, turning up an old pair of carpet 
slippers ; and he now leaned his long arms on his knees, and almost 
shouted with laughter. 

" Cube it, Mr. President ! " again said Abel Ouantrell, almost 
pityingly, at such levity. 

"Abel," replied the President, "that reminds me of the saying, 
Which of you, by taking thought, can add one cubit to his stature ? 
It is not ideas now which can win the day, but armies. I want a 
victory in the field, and after. that I may, as a war measure, set a 
date for the legal termination of slavery. Even then it will be a 
sound and not a solid, my friend, till our soldier-boys cube it with 
victory on all four sides of the rebellion at once." 

The laugh was on Abel Quantrell, and reformers can not bear to 
be laughed at. 

Mr. Davis considered that the President had not enough per 
sonal resentment in his nature. Surrounded by unscrupulous and 
malignant personal and political enemies, that Congressman wanted 
aid to -smite them in Maryland, but the President was too noble to 
hate anybody. 

The most complete and many-sided man of his day, President 
Lincoln was too original to have any petty intensity, and his way of 
meeting intense and narrow people with light jokes and laughter 
seemed to them the marks of a low mind. 

The East was still worshiping appearances and studying Euro 
pean military history, while the West, with an every-day look on 
its face, was driving the great lines of the rebellion in, and only on 
the line of the Valley, indicated by John Brown, was the border still 
vulnerable to the enemy ; and he w r as now to cross it, and invade 

Hannah Ritner arrived at Snow Hill one day in a hired buggy. 

" Katy," said she, " the insurgents have beaten McClellan an d 



Pope, and crossed the Potomac ! They are in Frederick City to 
night. I was robbed of my single-footed racker on my way to ap 
prise your father, and I came too late his herd was driven off, and 
the old farm is a desolation ! Catoctin Valley is held by the enemy, 
and they are investing Harper s Ferry." 

" Hurrah ! " piped Job Snowberger, coming in with the old Ser 
geant s gun ; " I ve persewered as fur as te heilich life, and now I m 
backshlided and goin to te heilich war ! " 



IT was natural enough that the guide of the insurgent army into 
Maryland and Pennsylvania should have been one of the Logans 
the mountain slave-catchers. They knew all the by-roads, and, if 
the invasion had succeeded, the blood-hound would have been the 
next guide, chasing up fugitive slaves. 

The issues to be settled under the South Mountain, and by the 
Antietam mill-stream, were the same determined by Charles Martel, 
on the plains of Europe whether women should have souls, and 
Christians liberty ! 

The defeat of the Army of the Potomac there, might have made 
slavery the dictator of all future American law and policy ; it would 
next have compelled Canada and Mexico to remand fugitive slaves, 
and the slave-trade would have been opened with Africa and Poly 
nesia, and Europe forced to consent or fight ; for men who would 
attack the United States in the proportion of one to three, would 
not hesitate to attack any state in Europe ; and, in fact, the educa 
tion of slavery had made the fiercest white race on the globe since 
Mohammed and his caliphs a democracy practicing slave-driving 
had all the energy of a popular society with all the bigotry of Orient 
alism. The fatalist Presbyterian, to whom was consigned the capt 
ure of Harper s Ferry, as the principal result of the invasion of Mary 
land, would have been no unwelcome general to Abderrahman or 
Kara Mustapha. 

There, under the fatuity of belief that the old mountain hole 
was important, the government kept a garrison of twelve thousand 


men, \vhile the insurgents also felt annoyed to leave this hollow 
post in their rear ; and, turning to take it, they lost the great battle 
of Antietam, and also learned that their remaining sympathizers in 
Maryland did not enlist for open war. 

Lloyd Quantrell, like many a one returned to his native State, 
kissed the ground, and heard the bands play " Maryland," and read 
the proclamation of the heir-at-law of Washington, that " freedom 
of the press has been supressed " ; and next, Lloyd saw the Union 
newspaper office at Frederick destroyed. The more honest procla 
mation was that of the Maryland rebel brigadier : " Come, all who 
wish to strike for their liberties, and each man provide himself with 
a pair of shoes, a good blanket, and a tin cup." 

The mountain counties had too few slaves to be interested in an 
otherwise causeless rebellion.* The false prophet lost nearly as 
many by desertion as he took at Harper s Ferry. 

There an officer with great consideration for slavery was in com 
mand, and at the head of the government army was another who 
had rather instruct his President on the enormity of freedom, than 
go and strike the invader and follow him home. 

Stonewall Jackson was the John Brown of his cause, and, like 
Brown, sat down in Harper s Ferry and paroled his prisoners ; and 
the war was to continue till every influential officer and civil ruler 
of the two sides became fashioned to their likeness a Union man 
had to hate slavery, and a disunionist to fear freedom. Stanton 
was the one great Unionist with the intensity of the secessionists 
themselves ; they saw him and hated their own likeness. 

Quantrell served as the staff-officer of a great slaveholder from 
Georgia, who had seen his political party break up and the Republi 
can party prevail, rather than let his rival, the opponent of President 
Lincoln, receive the Democratic party s leadership. Jealousy, com 
mencing in the party, had been the widening avenue to treason. 
This able man, who had handled the finances of his whole country, 
now found himself defending Crampton s Gap, one of two depres 
sions in the long South Mountain wall ; and as the government 
troops stretched across the Catoctin Valley to carry the pass, some- 

* The section occupied by the Confederate army was inhabited by people 
who had, for the most part, very different views and feelings from those of the 
more southern counties. In the latter, and in Baltimore, thousands would have 
flocked to the standard of Lee," but if, and so forth. Scharf s rebel and official 
" History of Maryland." 


thing in their numbers and deliberation awed his heart. Quantrell 
was sent along the mountain-crest to solicit re-enforcements from 
the greater insurgent wing which held the pass of the old National 
road, some miles northward. 

Suddenly he heard the strains of a band of music swell up from 
the plain behind him, to the air of a Maryland poet of other days : 

" Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 
Between their loved homes and the war s desolation ! 
Blest with victory and peace, may the Heaven-rescued land 
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation ! 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto In God is our trust. 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O er the land of the free and the home of the brave." 

Lloyd s eyes filled with tears as he heard this tender music 
plaintive, hopeful, and trustful ; like a Te Deum, threatening none- 
execrating none resting upon the spirit of Heaven in the hearts of 
the young and devoted. 

" Why can not we play that piece ? " said he. " I know it is 
never played in our camps; but why not? Have we lost our 
State, our flag, our music, too ? What have we got in return ? " 

As he dried his eyes, and looked at his shoes, half unsoled, and 
his garments and skin dirty, and himself come back, like a gypsy 
tramp, to the mountains of his childhood, he heard the fifes and 
drums in Crampton s Gap playing the old, monotonous, drunken- 
student tune, like a Roundhead drawl sung through the nose to in 
sidious suggestions, to the words 

" Better the fire upon thee roll, 
Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, 
Than crucifixion of the soul, 

Maryland ! my Maryland ! " 

" Nice present for Maryland from her friends," Lloyd reflected 
" the torch, the dirk-knife, the assassin s shot, and a bowl, either of 
poison or turpentine-whisky ! " 

He drank of the good rye he had purloined at one of the distil 
leries in Catoctin Valley, the capture of which had appeared yester 
day to be the political motive of the whole war. 

Suddenly he thought of the Sunday evening when he had left 


Katy, near Crampton s Gap, and the mysterious music of fife and 
drum had followed her retreating wheels. 

" O prophecy of this desolation ! " Quantrell cried ; "was it I who 
brought this war upon my country ? Did my coming to these mount 
ains bring ruin to a single heart or shame to any hearth ? God help 
me ! What will to-morrow bring them, when every fife screams 
hate, and every drum beats kill ? " 

He had stumbled along the mountain- table, when he found him 
self at the edge of a rock parapet, and identified the spot as that 
where he had met Isaac Smith and sons under their assumed names, 
the day^he shot the dove. 

Looking out upon the rival valleys, Lloyd recognized his hunt 
ing-park, somewhat as he had desired it that day, when he said : " I 
would clean out the whole region like a Norman king ; all the wild 
beasts should return again none but native American beasts, you 
bet ! " 

Every beast was here ; every hamlet had become its lair ; and 
from the North Mountain, more than twenty miles away, to Hagers- 
town and the Pennsylvania vales, stretched the uncoiled insurrec 
tion, with one fold only around Harper s Ferry, and the flat head, 
like the sluggish copperhead snake s, hissing at Baltimore, where 
lay the government fleet to raze that city if it sought to rise and 
destroy itself. 

The mild, wistful eyes of Abraham Lincoln, whose life would 
pay the price of his devotion if his army failed, looked out from 
Washington city his enemy far in his rear, and hardly a day s 
inarch from his person and he knelt in the agony of his responsi 
bility to the God he had sometimes doubted, and promised, if the 
battle were favorable, to proclaim slavery the nation s outlaw. 

As if Heaven had taken the President at his word, the army 
charged the South Mountain with a spirit it had never shown. Be 
hind Quantrell, the old statesman s command was torn to pieces, 
and among the killed were some of his own family ; and, in the 
Gap ahead, the soldiery of the West fought far into the night, and 
hurled their enemy down the mountain, though he had massed thirty 
thousand men to keep this rampart. Three thousand fellow-men 
lay on the mountain-side, crying for water and death. 

Quantrell was caught up in the tide of flying men and carried 
on to Sharpsburg that same little town where he had volunteered 
to carry the letter to Isaac Smith nearly three years before. 


Here, in the dawn, stretched thousands of men upon the bare 
ground ; hundreds more were contending for water at the stone- 
arched spring. 

" The blessings of our Confederacy have been, up to this time," 
Lloyd thought, " hardly to leavs Maryland water to drink." 

He went to the commanding general s and asked for a place in 
the coming battle, and they sent him to the Dunker church near 
by, where he had plighted troth with Katy ; and that night, as Fate 
would have it, he slept beneath the September stars, in the Dunker 
grave-yard, where, at the grave of Katy s mother, he had put his 
own mother s ring upon Katy s hand, and heard a mystic music in 
the fields. 

Now, from the small mountainous ridges, from the fields ribbed 
with limestone, and the drooping woods of hickory and oak, came 
the pipes and bands of vast and organized war not like the handful 
of John Brown s followers caught in the mountain s jaws, but land 
scapes of men embroidered between the great quilting-frames of the 
North and the South Mountains ; and the Antietam brook, like a 
ball of blue yarn, lying on the floor below. 

At dawn, next day, the bright needles began their task, and the 
red and white patches spangled the rich groundwork ; like scis 
sors cutting, the shell and shrapnel clipped the air ; while smoke of 
burning rags and flesh went up to God in human sacrifice. It was 
the domestic quilting-party over domestic slavery. 

During that night, thinking of where he might lie the night to 
follow, Lloyd Ouantrell imagined he saw on the South Mountain 
summit the gaunt form of John Brown demonstrating with a pike 
upon the great blackboard of the battle-field, and saying, " This, 
gentlemen, is the inevitable line of war ! " 

The battle of Antietam may be likened to two leopards lying in 
a brook, and fighting all day with their heads and teeth, and not 
till near night remembering the terrible claws upon their hinder 
feet, when these, also, do ferocious work. 

At light of Wednesday morning, the flexile animals began the 
roar of war, contending for the Dunker church through corn-fields 
and lanes ; and that little temple of the peaceful Dippers, standing 
on a white turnpike in the edge of beautiful woods, was the only 
Christian sign to twenty-five thousand dead or bleeding men, who 



lay that night beneath the breeze that carried the symphony of their 
wails to the old mill-wheels in the creek, which turned as innocently 
to blood as to water. These mills had ground out flour for Wash 
ington s army, and for the French wars a hundred years before. 

The three arched bridges of the creek typified to many a burning 
man the three heads on Calvary with the hyssop at their lips. 

In little villages, like Nazareth or Bethlehem of old, the taxed 
people crowded to pay Pilate the currency of blood, and many a 
pale virgin heard Joseph the carpenter s saw all the night working 
in human bones. 

Artillery had been busy as the talk of crows in the standing 
corn, for a full day s farm-hands work ; the volleys of musketry 
seemed to rend the intervening mountains, and account for their 
present partitioning ; the old sycamores above the sluggish wind 
ings of the creek calmly slept in the tornado of iron, like the Bunkers 
in their graves. 

How many a barn of stone, such as were scattered over that 
rolling battle plateau, seemed to its fugitives of both armies, who 
crowded there fraternally, to be the palace of God s abundance, un 
til the missile of Christian chemistry made it burst to flame, and be 
old Torquemada s sacrifice to the faith ! 

In grassy cross-lanes, where the sighs of pastoral love had 
passed in the innocent sight of nibbling sheep, there lay at morn 
the specters of entangled bodies, swelling to quick decay, like the 
hewed trees upon the mountains and the corded wood. 

By night, the lamps of good Samaritan and robber moved 
among the sufferers, hearing the cry of " water," and answering it 
with rapine ; or the cry for " death," and answering it with water 
and with wine. 

The whole world contributed to that last supper to slavery ; the 
multitudinous tribes that had swelled by their mutiny and emigra 
tion the, as yet, unwelded American race, dipped in the sop of An- 
tietam, and sighed in all the tongues before the Pentecostal day. 

The public enemy, with the Potomac at his back looped up to 
his flanks and cinctured by his pontoons held the*horizon line above 
the creek, and watched the three stone bridges of the Antietam ; 
but only at the far left was battle given for the Union willingly, and 
it seemed in the moral laws of the world ordained that the com 
mander, who would qualify freedom in his heart, could receive only 
qualified obedience. The nearest bridge to Sharpsburg was not 


attacked till afternoon, though ordered to be carried at dawn ; and 
when that town was almost taken, the returning victors from Har 
per s Ferry appeared and saved it. 

Thus one hundred and fifty thousand men had tried a whole day 
to destroy each other, upon the issue of two nations or one no other 
moral point was then at issue. 

But the President at Washington had recorded his vow. The 
day but two after the battle he read to his cabinet the proclamation 
of emancipation, and the Monday after the battle washing-day in 
the State it was published to mankind. 

Before it serfdom went down everywhere. The Russian and 
Brazilian followed the spirit of old King Frederick, and the Ameri 
can followed the example of Frederick s sword-wearer, Captain John 

These were the words of mercy, born out of the autumn harvest 
of the Bunker s vale : 

" On the first day of January, in the year of our Lord 1863, 
all persons held as slaves by the people in rebellion against the 
United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever, free." 

The stream of Dutch immigration moving down the Cumberland 
valley from the Delaware, had prepared the battle-field of emancipa 
tion, and verified the proclamation of Mennonites and Dunkers a 
century and three quarters before : " We shall doe to all men licke 
as we will be done ourselves, making no difference in what genera 
tion, descent, or colour they are." * 

In the night the enemy had abandoned Maryland and crossed 
the river. ^ 

Not long afterward, President Lincoln rode from Frederick City 
across the mountains, in the month of October, to see these battle 
fields the nearest to his fame and they took him to the mountain- 
farm of John Brown, whence that outlaw had descended upon Vir 
ginia with his Gideonites, nearly three years before, in the same 
russet month. 

The President got down from his carriage in the lane by the old 
log-hut, and asked the privilege of entering the spot alone. 

He looked within the humble stone basement at the bare floor, 
and peeped into the small, contracted loft. 

He sat in John Brown s own room ; and the memory of his child- 

* Mennonite protest against slavery to the Pennsylvania Quaker slavehold 
ers, April 18, 1688. 



hood, in such a hut as this, brought back the recollection of his 
mother and her barefoot brood. 

He thought of his tanned and hazel-eyed mother, crossing the 
Ohio to a home as bare as this, among the wild pines, and a little 
clearing of Indian corn, in the bottoms of Indiana. He thought of 
her dying when he was only nine years old, and the digging of her 
lonely grave, without a preacher near to see her dear mold go down 
beneath the October sycamore ; and of his desolate father, looking 
his last upon her with a sound of inarticulate woe and wringing 
hands. The trees without made the same sound now in the same 
October weather, saying Indian things in the afternoon light. 

" Dear mothers of poor boys ! " the President said, " look down 
in pity on the orphans who have made their way to public life in 
honor of your characters, and never find the unselfish joy you gave 
them, even in the solace of such opportunities for good as poor 
John Brown s and mine ! Oh, could you tell me, mother, that I am 
right, and give me the luxury of that great grief I felt when you 
were suffering, I would gladly lie down here and surrender to the 
silence of a grave like yours, the honors and the troubles I am so 
much envied for ! " 

Tears bade the President go down to the old spring-house and 
bathe his eyes. As he reached it, a large, black-haired woman sat 
there beneath the hooded roof, and looked up at him like one ex 
pected, and with compassion like the mother of his youth. 

" My son," she said, in deep, indwelling tones, "have you come, 
also, to the martyr s farm ? Shall I see you go out of this lane never 
to return, however victorious ? " 

" I know your face," the President said, in pleasant recognition. 
" You are one of the hospital nurses and Sisters of Dorcas who come 
sometimes to my office. Did you know John Brown ? " 

" He was another son of mine," the dark woman said ; " I 
brought him to this barren shrine, near the hut where I had minis 
tered to many escaping slaves. I saw his destiny, and I see yours, 
President. Let old Hannah Ritner, the witch of Smoketown, look 
into your hand ! " 

The President hesitated, still looking at her kindly, and he 
touched his moist eyes with his hands. 

" Be careful, friend," he spoke ; " my sensibilities have been a lit 
tle moved by thinking of some things of childhood, and I derive 
from my old Dutch ancestry, which lived at both ends of this same 


valley, a vein of superstition. I hope you will not press me too 

" Your fortune has already been told, my gifted son." 

" Yes ; once it was. When I was a young man I went to New 
Orleans, and saw a beautiful yellow girl sold on the block, and I 
wished I might live to see slavery end. That very day a fortune 
telleran old Voudoo solemnly told me that I would be President, 
and all the negroes would be free." * 

" It has come to pass, my noble son ! I will soon be laid away, 
obscurely as the patient mother you were just invoking by those 
tears, and, like the Scripture witch of old, I would connect my in 
tuitions with your fate ; for you look down on me like Jonathan, the 
son of Saul s own stature. Give a poor mourner for the hero who 
died on the gailows, that hand which executed his unsuccessful pur 
pose with the more merciful pen ! " 

The President held out his hand. She took it and drew him to 
ward her, and, gathering up her sheet of black and silver hair which 
had fallen in the spring, she wiped his eyes and scoured his palm 
with her hairs. 

With face bent over his hand, and accents which were low, but 
made her bosom throb, Hannah Ritner spoke these words : 

" The fierce are threatened oft, 

And live life out ; 
The wolf assails the soft 

Have thou no doubt ! 
He whose remaining gun 

At thee takes aim, 
Shall save the tenderest one 

All of his fame ! " 

When the President heard these words, he saw the woman sink 
to her place upon the stone, by the log spring-house, under the rot 
ting roof. 

" Thank you," said he, " for the kindness of your augury. When 
my time comes, may God find me with no cares upon my face ! " 

During the battle for the Bunker church, Lloyd Ouantrell, at the 
head of a detachment from everywhere : conscripts, filibusters, lads 

* This prediction is recorded in Arnold s " Life of Lincoln," p. 31. 



taken from school to stop bullets, and lads never meant for school 
at all, but to be " sand-hillers " and "crackers," like all their genera 
tions ; bright Virginia yeomen and ardent young Carolinians, Irish 
men from the wharves of cities, Creoles from the levees, with Span 
ish and St. Uorningo blood ; fat, chicken-fed Georgians and Alaba 
mans, lean duelists and card-players from Mississippi, men without 
origin from the spontaneous grass of Texas, and freckled skeletons 
from Tennessee fought the ever-recurring advance of the Union 
army with the business coolness and rallying power he showed in 
Baltimore in firemen s times. Though Lloyd had reasoned upon 
the errors and follies of the secession cause, he gave it his full phys 
ical loyalty, and on his native soil would surpass his best endeavors, 
in the sight of all these wild levies. 

His gun in hand at times, his pistols at others, his sword at closer 
quarters, and at times with nothing at all, he made the trembling 
stand, cheered the young tyro at man-killing, pointed the place of 
latest danger, and hurried to make it good ; and, gigantic in stature, 
free in humor, forgetful of everything but the pleasure and hotness 
of the fight, he stood more distinct than a general, with clothes 
ripped by bullets and hat already ragged, one arm in a sling and his 
pair of new boots taken from a Federal corpse, his face black with 
powder and his food an ear of corn, and the dead around and before 
him unobserved as the limestone ledges which stood also in battle- 
lines under the beautiful woods. 

His negro, Ashby, brought him water at times, constant but au 
tomatic, and once in the lull of battle, when far away the artillery 
roared like lightning in the mountains, Lloyd raised a laugh among 
his desperate but discouraged men by saying : 

" Ashby, how did you get on this side ? The Yankees will hang 
you ! " 

" I s cornscripted," replied the negro, "like most of dese yer pa 
triots cornscripted by my fections ! " 

The blue line of battle came on again through the shot-mowed 
Indian maize, announced by the skirmishers falling back with reports 
like pop-corn in the pan. 

" Now, boys," cried Ouantrell, " we ll blow them out like a can 
dle ! We ve had a little rest. Lie down behind the stone copings 
and take aim, and fire low only when I give the word." 

The emaciated, awed, but energized battalion fell down, and 
awaited the shock of war. 



" Great Patapsco ! " laughed Ouantrell, " how many more Yan 
kees can there be ? We ve killed a million, and here they come 
again. This war will last till the Yankees learn to fire low, and then 
it won t last six months." 

He was a great comfort to his men candid, saucy, satirical, as 
apt to sing as to swear and now he, alone, stood up, gnawing a half 
dry ear of corn, and shaking the cob at the enemy otherwise un 
armed and daring them to cqme nearer : 

" Come on ! Right here, to meeting ! Come to love-feast ! Come 
get your feet washed ! Come get your hair cut ! Come and get 
some lamb-soup ! Come, brethren come to hell ! " 

Stalwart and ragged as a pirate, Lloyd s sense of humor even in 
this moment of intensity rose supreme ; for the Federal leader was, 
like the Dunkers he had described, with straggling beard and shaved 
lip and long hair. 

A blast of flame and lead blew from the Northern rifles, and the 
old Dunker church cracked like a white slave under the rawhide. 

" Hold fast ! I ll make him who fires before I speak, eat all this 
corn-cob ! Low, now, and fire ! " 

The ground burst with smoke, and in the smoke rose the feeble 
rebel yell, and on before was another yell like women screaming. 

" Snuffed out ! " exclaimed Quantrell, grimly ; " all are dead that 
have got legs. Give me a fresh ear, somebody ! " 

His men had hardly congratulated themselves, when the blue 
line reappeared, decimated, shorter, but steady yet reformed be 
hind the knoll and the corn and the bearded figure leading it on, 
wore his arm also in a sling now, like Lloyd Quantrell. 

"That Yankee s almost as saucy as I am," chuckled Lloyd to 
his men. " Now, down again, and finish them ! Not a trigger 
goes till I call out ! What are you doing here, Ashby ? Go to the 
rear ! " 

" Don t you want your sword, mosster ? " 

"No. Give me a drink! That is a cool chap yonder, sure! 
Now, low fire ! " 

As the smoke and dust arose from the fields, the same mourn 
ful wail and the same rejoicing rebel yell echoed to each other. 

" The graveyard s full ! " said Lloyd ; " I don t see a man ! " 

As the volleys of musketry went round the circuit of the battle 
field, and the hushed and wondering soldiery gazed forth from the 
Dunker woods, they saw the same man, in beard and long hair, ap- 


pear at the edge of the corn-field, at the head of a poor and un 
certain handful of men in blue. He waved a sword and shook his 
head, and seemed to be saying, "Forward ! " 

It was in vain. The waft of death, twice blown from those 
mysterious woods, had broken the hearts of his followers. 

"Come, brother!" shouted Lloyd, "we ll divide the porridge 
with you. Bring them along ! And you, my men, down there 
again, and wait for the word ! " 

The bearded man seemed now making a speech. He threat 
ened his soldiers with a drawn pistol. He stripped his sword-sash 
from his body and threw it on the ground and stamped upon it. 

"They won t come," said Ouantrell ; "I wouldn t if I was they. 
But the bully, yonder, is a lion." 

The man they looked at now walked right toward them, head 
up, and the heroism of death in his tension and devotion. He 
came on, pistol in hand, not to surrender, but to defy, and to set 
the example of duty, and to die. 

" Why," Quantrell said, " if this was his church, and he the 
preacher of it, he couldn t show more confidence walking up to his 
pulpit. Don t fire at him. Don t kill that man ! " 

To the credit of the worst among them, there was no such in 
tention. His personal, unattended valor, and the appreciation of it, 
encompassed the whole battalion of his enemies. But it became 
apparent that he must die, lest he kill some one or many among 
them. His pace never slackened, nor were his features relaxed. 
He meant to give his life, but to exact life for it. 

The whole stooping body peered up to see him ; guns were 
cocked, and his heart seemed to beat visibly in the air where he 
walked, like the perforated cardboard it was in a moment to be. 

" Don t shoot so game a fellow-man ! " called Lloyd ; " I ll trip 
him up and take him alive." 

As he and they all stared at this effigy, whose breathing they 
could almost hear as it came at full momentum, like a bull to the 
Indian ambush, their flank, which they had neglected for this 
spectacle, flamed and thundered, and Lloyd Quantrell turned his 
head to see the woods full of blue blouses and charging men, and 
to hear a wail of anguish at his very feet, and see his battalion rise 
and rush from his side in the panic of demoralization. 

At the same moment a pistol went off at his own ear, and he 
grappled with a strong man. 


Another human body rushed between, and the pistol was again 

Lloyd seemed to be in a burning house, and suffocated. 

He awoke in the night, clasped in some one s arms, helpless, 
athirst, and everywhere in pain. The air smelled of the tons of 
sulphur shot into it a whole day long, and spasmodic cries or dying 
wails, the lonely trumps of camps, or random picket guns, ascended 
to the stars. 

" Help ! countrymen ! Help ! Oh, help ! " 

His wail also had arisen among the rest, for he felt like a sick 

The person in his arms relaxed his grasp, and said : 

" Mosster ? " 

" O Asnby ! Take me up, my poor old friend ! " 

The negro s throat seemed to rattle, and he also sighed. 

"God s took me up, Lloyd ! I took de las shot Luther Bosler 
fired at you. De first hit you and fetched you down. He s lyin 
yer, too, wounded wid your sword : I had to run it in him he was 
so brave." 

The negro s form seemed to stretch, and his lips to give forth 
bubbles. Lloyd shouted for help again, and this time not for him 

" Ashby ! Servant ! O my friend ! " 

" Lloyd, good-by ! I m a pore black man, but I love you. Oh, 
don t oppress my people. Let whisky alone : it s ruinin of you. 
Daddy I m comin ! " 

A long suction, a gap, and silence. 

Lloyd put out his hand with pain, and the black face was cold 
with a night dew that awaits no morning sun. 

" Help ! help ! Some water ! Oh ! " 

Voices and a lantern came near, and people were heard speak 
ing in old German. Soon there was a cry of affection, and the 
words, " Sohn ! Bubbelly ! O Luter Bi m-by." 

" Father, attend to te people first here at my right. They re 
suffering te most. Give them a drink of your water and whisky : 
it s good, now." 

A man raised Lloyd s head and pressed cold spirits to his lips, 
and said : 


" Drinksht ! You was Yasus man, too." 

" Jake, don t you know me ? " 

The man wiped Lloyd s face and held the lantern to his eyes, 
and fell back, as in horror or hate. 

" You ? " he cried. " You robbed me of my heilich dovvb, my 
Katy ! We fed you, and you bit us. Luter, te feind, te difel is py 
your side ! Don t speak mit him. He dies in hell Bi m-by ! " 

Luther did not hear ; he had fainted. 

When morning came upon the battle-field, Ashby lay stark upon 
his back, testifying to the spheres, with eyeballs white as the fading 

All day Lloyd lay there in delirium, shouting unconsciously, and 
at night it seemed that millions of lamps were moving over the bat 
tle-plain seeking out the dead. He lost all sense of time or place, or 
everything but torment, and only heard repeated the old man s bit 
ter words ; " He dies in hell bi m-by ! " 

He felt a breath of cooler air, and heard a voice say : 

" Lloyd ! " 

He was in a boat upon a sort of bier, crossing a river, and Hugh 
Fenwick looked down at him, saying : 

" Dominus vobzscum ! Poor friend, I have sent you to your own 
side of the river ! " 

" Virginia ? Oh, let me stay in Maryland ! I want my wife, my 
father ! " 

The boat grounded on the pebbles at Shepherdstown, and Quan- 
trell was abandoned to his political environment. 

In the long hospital, at Washington, Luther Bosler lay, with his 
sister and Hannah Ritner by his cot. 

Hugh Fenwick came in to these, and took Katy s hand. 
" Benedictus, my pupil. Lloyd Quantrell is dead ! " 




JOHN BEALL settled down to milling in Iowa for a few weeks, 
and saw nothing to his liking. The people were earnest for their 
country s support and union, and suspected himself and his friends 
who came from Missouri and Kentucky, and lived between the lines 
to have some incendiary project on foot. The lowans were not 
the undecided people who lived in the Eastern provinces, and when 
they set their fierce regard upon Beall he fled to Canada.* 

There sullen imaginings he had indulged in Iowa were re-enforced 
by the society of escaped prisoners and cowardly fugitives from 
military duty, who had taken into their confidence certain predatory 
Canadian Scotch, ready with mechanical suggestions or bloody foray. 

Beall had once thought of starting an insurrection among the 
Confederate prisoners at Chicago, but now was persuaded that John 
son s Island military prison was the place to raid from neutral soil, 
as it was out in Lake Erie, defended on the water by a small armed 
boat, and in the line of Canadian steamships going up the lakes. 

In Montreal the liquor-dealer, Martin, from Baltimore, had estab 
lished himself in a small note-shaving and war-supply business. 
He was a man of Irish stock apparently, bitter against the flag of 
Irish refuge, and desperately intent on making money. 

In a retired room of his lodgings a meeting of conspirators was 
held around a singular piece of mechanism, called " The Hozological 
Torpedo" an instrument to run by weights for a long given time, 
when it would explode a chemical preparation. A red-haired Scotch 
merchant present explained that he owed to a refugee college pro 
fessor from Virginia the secret chemical in the apparatus, while the 
mechanical work was English, ordered and imported by him. He 
wanted to sell the incendiary article to the insurgents, and realize a 
fortune. John Beall spoke up to this man, whose name was Keith, 
saying : 

" I can t approve of that method of warfare yet. You murder 
innocent people by it as indifferently as the guilty. It will destroy a 

* "Suspicions being aroused as to his real character, through the impru 
dence of his friends, he was obliged to flee the country." Lucas s " Memoir of 
John Yates Beall," Montreal, 1865. 



vast ocean-ship of thousands of tons burden, you say ; but are the 
innocent passengers women and babes to be left out of our 
prayers ? The idea is too monstrous ! " 

The moral sensibility of the Virginia vestryman divided the sen 
timent of the party. They were bitter, white-livered men, against 
whom the war was going hard everywhere but in Virginia, and they 
burned to carry devastation into the new and intrepid West, which 
had so recently dawned upon their consciousness as the land of 
Lincoln, Grant, Burnside, Buell, and the Odins and Thors of the 

" You will come to it," said Martin, touching his malt whisky to 
his lips, " when the West re-elects Lincoln, and pens your whole 
Confederacy up between the Alleghanies and the Potomac. We 
considered that one Southerner was equal to three Yankees, but left 
the West out of our calculation. We have tried it every way, and 
can make no impression upon it. You, Captain Beall, know that all 
the Knights of the Golden Circle, Vallandigham movements, and 
Kentucky neutrality jobs have jailed. Nigger emancipation will be 
accepted, too. The Union mountaineers in Tennessee, the Caro- 
linas, and Alabama will swell the Western Yankee army. We must 
blow up all the commerce of the Mississippi Valley and the lakes, 
set Chicago, Buffalo, Detroit, and Cleveland on fire, and light the 
flames of death and damnation in their rear ! " 

Keith, the Halifax Scotchman, arose and toasted this sentiment, 
exclaiming : 

"You think anything s fair, Martin, in war or trade ? So do I." 

"What we want," spoke Beall, "is a crew of Confederate-line 
picked men, sent out on a blockade-runner, with a cool man in com 
mand, to ship here at Montreal for the Canadian mines. Their 
light artillery and weapons can be shipped as freight. In Lake Erie 
they can seize the steamer, point for Johnson s Island, run down the 
Yankee gunboat there and board her, and open with artillery on the 
stockade. Eight thousand officers will join us there ; we will seize 
the shipping in Sandusky, and attack every city on the lakes." 

These words, spoken in fitful, smothered sentences, out of cold 
and brooding eyes, filled with gloomy fanaticism, alarmed all the 
timid majority in the place. The Falstaff of the band looked at the 
door ; the banished statesman breathed quick and rose to go ; the 
cackler and Federal spy in the party reached for liquor, and said 
" good," in a thin, small voice. 



" Where is such a leader to be had ? " the medical Satan of the 
band inquired. 

" I know a man whom I shall ask to be commissioned for the 
work, when I reach Richmond." 

The door opened, and Booth, the actor, entered, who had been 
moving between the new oil-regions about Buffalo and Montreal. 
His unexpected coming alarmed all but Mr. Beall, who greeted him 
at first distantly. 

" Gentlemen, don t be disturbed," said Booth. " I want to see 
you, Martin, about shipping my theatrical wardrobe on your block 
ade-runner to one of the Southern ports. We have a good many 
destitute Maryland soldiers in the South, and J have got a* scheme 
to go there and play, to raise them funds." 

He sat down and talked about his enlisting against John Brown, 
and restored the confidence of the band. 

" How will you enter the Confederacy, John ? " asked Beall. " I 
must get there some way. I am poor, and broke." 

" That s just what I came to see friend Martin about. He knows 
everybody in the old, lower counties of Maryland, and I want some 
letters to them. Oil is played out ; and I m going out of it and 
into land." 

Time passed along, and the blockade-running vessel of partners 
Keith and Martin went down the St. Lawrence River from Quebec, 
well insured, and with the wardrobe of the actor, Booth, on board. 
In a few days she was found wrecked in the Canadian gulf, and all 
souls lost ; and Mr. Martin, who was a passenger, perished from the 

Mr. Keith had taken Mr. Martin at his word, and put a hozo- 
logical torpedo on the vessel, wound up to explode at the proper 
time and spot, which would prove his loss and recover the insurance. 
All had been fair in war and trade. 

But Mr. Booth kept the letters of introduction from Mr. Martin 
to the old families in Maryland.* 

Booth relieved the necessities of Mr. Beall, and they went to 
gether from Montreal to the United States. 

The American civil war had produced on the Canadian boundary 

* Related to the author by Marshal John P. Kane, of Baltimore, to whom 
P. C. Martin gave a letter of introduction to Booth. Ten years later, Keith, 
under the false name of Thomassen, blew up an ocean-steamship at Bremen in 
time of peace, to recover insurance, and died of the wounds he received. 


a similar demoralization to that already described as latent on the 
lower Potomac, and Canada was long plagued by raids, and was 
altered in political character through her jealousy of the great re 
public, and, perhaps, of the sentiment of President Lincoln, that 
slavery and the divine right of kings were " the same principle " ; * 
and twenty years after the United States came to peace, Canada 
was hanging her rebellious Riels and other scions of seventeenth- 
century superstition. 

Beall and Booth were both individual and secretive men, and 
something mutual on their minds caused them to cross the frontier, 
without any conference, at another than the usual route. Booth held 
the purse, and he directed the travel, guided into the wilderness of 
New York by his gypsy love of wandering. 

They came one afternoon to a solemn spot in the Adirondack 
Mountains, where a cabin on a hill-side looked out upon a mighty 
amphitheatre of peaks, and in a neighboring gorge the adjacent 
springs ran into the river Hudson and the St. Lawrence lakes 
systems spanning in their flow nearly all America that was free. 

Near the cottage-door stood a great rock, and beside it was an 
old scarred tombstone, dense with inscriptions, of which one said : 


BORN MAY 9, 1800, 

DEC. 2, 1859." 

Three slain sons and the father of John Brown lay here beside 
him, in the solitude of the oldest mountains on the globe, at the 
earliest birth of human life in the forest, and the pioneers of freedom. 

Booth said to Beall, as they read the inscriptions, in silence, of 
the Revolutionary father, the executed son, and the devoted grand 
sons : 

" Has this man ever lost his influence over you, John ? " 

" Never ! " 

" Nor over me. His proclamation of war has become in Lin 
coln s act the law of the land. He reached in a campaign of thirty- 
three hours a fame that will last forever, if the slave States are to be 

* " It is the same spirit that says, You work, and toil, and earn bread, 
and I ll eat it. "Lincoln s speech at Alton, 1858. 



" All is not lost yet," affirmed Beall, with intensity. 

" Lincoln is the tyrant of the South," spoke Booth, returning to 
his old dramatic manner. " What is he worth to us ? " 

" Nothing, I reckon." 

" Not as hostage ? " 

" No. I saw in the West hundreds of men just like him." 

" I will take you to see him," said Booth. 

They reached the city of Washington in a few days Beall in 
the uniform of a Federal lieutenant ; an d the actor, his friend, ac 
quainted with everybody, and vouching for the silent stranger. In 
that capital of an enlightening idea, like the new star over Beth 
lehem s shamble, malignant suspicions of strangers did not exist ; 
and, to further protect his friend, Booth put him under the social 
care of Senator Pittson s family. 

" Let me tell you a secret, John," said Booth. " Light Pittson is 
my affianced wife." 

The National Hotel was the center of the new Western society at 
the capital, and there Booth and the Pittsons had long been boarders ; 
and the fine, impulsive daughter of the senator had attracted the 
fatal regard of the dark-eyed and insidious actor. 

He sometimes appeared upon the stage in Washington to oblige 
a friend at a benefit, and Light saw his almost glittering face and 
trim, powerful figure, in classical or melodramatic characters ; but 
she saw him oftener in recitations in the private rooms of the hotel, 
where he controlled many a wild army blade or family of an absent 
officer, and was the poetical character of that crowded house. 

He caused it to be understood that he had made a fortune specu 
lating in oil lands and wells a development in American nature 
contemporaneous with the loss of cotton and slaves as if abun 
dance and compensation were the returns for doing right. 

Booth was universally considered a fortunate and retired man, 
no longer subject to the imputation of his profession, social and 
handsome ; and if looked upon adversely by prudent mothers, he was 
the exciting principle in many a daughter s heart, who could not 
separate artificial from real heroism. 

Maidens with fathers at the front of war, and foolish or unprin 
cipled wives whose husbands were in ships on blockading or cruis 
ing service, or upon the military staff, felt the dark wizardry of his 
eyes, his confidential, low tone, and the touch of a hand daring in 
its mingled respect and familiarity. 


He had measured the virtue of the world by the stage, and con 
sidered himself of a theatrical and political aristocracy. His father 
he supposed to have been the relative of lord mayors and great pub 
lic men, and the noblest figure on the British stage. His pride was 
greater than his assertion of it ; for, like many people in the weaker 
professions of belles-lettres, he had no capacity for facts or affairs, 
and applied the scale of superficial art to everything. He could no 
longer study even the plays with conscientious devotion. Too early 
success in acting, and admiration, flattery, and worldly lusts, had 
made him one of the most self-contained idiots in Washington. 

There stood the powerful fiber of an athlete, the exterior of a 
gentleman, and the apparent descent of genius, without discipline, 
humility, or much reality, deceiving himself and everybody. 

The fabric was false in everything but headstrong pride, and by 
his physical exercise he was dangerous. He could whip almost any 
man he met with his fists ; he excelled in arms and the gymnasium ; 
yet he had no conception of the regularity and honor of war, and 
the brute in his nature did not permit the soldier to enter there. 
Thus, in the Rome of the New World, he was a mere gladiator un 
der the delusions of a patrician. 

He knew nothing of international law and obligations, nor of the 
moral tone of mankind, and supposed that a boundary- line stopped 
at once pursuit and public opinion. 

How much slavery, and how much an intemperate, possibly in 
sane descent, aggravated this precocity of self-will, may be inferred. 

He had attended school with some of the rising young insur 
gent chiefs, and yearned to rank with them in prominence ; and the 
idea that liberty included black people was atheism to him. Un 
questionably a victim of the slave code, whence came his brutal 
part, he was also derived from the more intemperate and reckless 
years of a father who had lived upon the consuming fire of an inade 
quate and unprincipled genius.* 

Republican surroundings had given this scion of the English 
actor a high sensibility as to his descent, intensified by the homage 
of schoolboys and gossips, and obscurer-born actors, and the only 

* "During this tour (1835), the calamity, which seemed to increase in 
strength and frequency with maturer years, assumed many singular phases. 
When his habits were the most temperate and abstemious (in youth), we occa 
sionally find those slight aberrations of mind . . . between genius and mad 
ness." The elder Booth s " Life," by his daughter. 



liberty he understood was slaveholders privileges. His political 
faith was that " all abolitionists ought to be hanged," while yet he 
howled " liberty " on the stage with such circus feats as cleared the 
good seats, and finally satisfied the gallery ; and once he managed 
a rude little theatre in Washington, playing his father s most violent 
parts to little advantage. 

There was mixed with Booth s cool self-appreciation a derived 
passion to get along well in the world. He had, therefore, picked 
up a smattering of speculative talk, and used about six thousand 
dollars of his savings, from Southern acting, in oil lands and ex- 
ploitings ; but he wasted in country amours the time he had designed 
for that commerce, and was now thinking of something between 
acting and speculation to raise money and fame at a sudden bound, 
for he was growing poor. 

Thus he professed to be rich for social influence, and the social 
influence he exerted upon the managers of theatres, while all these 
pretenses were fraudulent. He was neither independent, nor an 
artist, nor a gentleman, nor intelligent enough to pilot himself 
through those false situations without losing some portion of his co 

A treacherous deed of some kind he had in view, and already it 
began to draw him into abstraction and dissipation. He did not 
know what it might be ; but it was to deceive one population and 
become a hero in another to take a wife, at least, out of the North, 
and money out of the South, and be some kind of a Junius Brutus 
or Claude Duval. 

Senator Pittson took Booth and his friend Beall to the Presi 
dent s house ; he liked Booth rather the more, that he seemed to 
solicit nothing. 

The President, that morning, was expecting some embassador, 
foreign general, or prince, and the doors were closed to the public ; 
but the President himself came out in the hall, hearing Senator Pitt- 
son s voice, and told him to use the time till it should be required, 
and to bring his young friends in. 

They entered the chamber of emancipation. 

"And this is the son of Booth, the actor? My eloquent young 
friend, I have seen you act: it was a little robust, but artistic 
progress, I have noticed, is from the robust toward the trained ; and 
if there is nothing strong in a horse, training him seldom comes to 
much. My robust generals, I think, will get the science of the 


thing some day ; but, ah ! if my scientific generals would only be 
a little more robust ! " 

As President Lincoln spoke, he looked out of the window upon 
the new-made forts encircling his capital, without whose ramparts 
the insurgents were even now conscripting to make up the losses of 
Antietam. A look of pain crossed his face, which also wore the age 
of his responsibility. He was dressed in fine broadcloth, and, stand 
ing six feet four, looked dignified in every inch. 

" Lieutenant," he said to Beall, "where were you wounded ? In 
Kentucky ? Tell me, how does my native State take my proclama 
tion of emancipation ? " 

" Not favorably, Mr. President." 

" So I fear ; but its benefits will set the intellect of the South 
free, and I believe that the Southern head is the best natural head 
we have. That is the head I carry one of the poorest specimens, 
I suspect but if I could confer a great blessing on my old kin and 
tribes, it would be to give them some of the free air and joy of look 
ing back at slavery from the other side. Slowly I have progressed 
that way perhaps God has led me along and the mind grows con 
fident in it, like jealousy dismissed from a husband s spirit, when 
a prejudice against the wife of his bosom has been fully dispelled. 
The world wants self-restraint ; but restraining others in what 
God gave them breaks all habits down. Sweet will be the scene, 
some day, of freedom in the cotton as in the corn ; but better yet 
when the reign of intolerance is gone from the ruling mind, and 
the master s intellect is released to humility, fraternity, and knowl 

Beall looked up at Mr. Lincoln out of pinched eyes, as if at 
some social inferior in a pulpit, but Booth remarked : 

" Oh ! the States in rebellion must lay down their arms, and the 
abolitionists accept your policy, Mr. President ; then we will have 
the Constitution and Union again." 

The President looked at Booth considerately, and said : 

" To me it would not matter long if the Union could be restored 
with slavery still milking at its breast ; but you, with many years 
before you, would receive the benefits of a more complete revolu 
tion, and for your sake, and yours, my gallant young friend " (to 
Beall), " I accept, with a sorrow which is not dissatisfaction, the be 
lief that the war will be long." 

His shoulders somewhat stooped, like one receiving a burden for 



a long up-hill walk ; but he looked right onward, with expressive, 
dark-gray eyes slightly elevated, and the curious, puckered lines 
around his mouth and chin strengthened, and the square-cut beard 
of the jaw and chin meeting the square of the temple locks and 
crown-mane, formed three inflexible sides of a square; and the 
well-cut nose and angle of the cheek-bones receiving the light of his 
purpose to go on with the geometry, made Senator Pittson say : 

" You will live to square it yes, to cube it." 

The President turned to Mr. Booth and put his hand upon his 
arm, with an open, country look of his substantial mouth, while his 
stiff, black hair seemed to soften, and his heavily marked eyebrows 
to take the light of his smile. 

" Booth, give me a little Shakespeare ! Do you believe Shake- 
peare wrote his own works ? They say Seward writes all my mes 

This last remark was caused by the Secretary of State entering, 
to be ready to present the expected notabilities. He was introduced 
to the young men, and joined in the talk with address and merri 
ment shining up a somewhat faded face. 

Booth had been studying Marc Antony, to make an appearance 
soon with his two elder actor brothers in New York of whom the 
only distinguished one was to vote for President Lincoln s re-elec 
tion and John Booth rehearsed : 

" I come to bury Csesar, not to praise him. 

When that the poor have cried, Coesar hath wept : 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

But here s a parchment, with the seal of Caesar : . . . 
Let but the commons hear his testament, . . . 
And they would go and kiss dead Ccesar s wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. 

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
While bloody treason flourished over us." 

Mr. Lincoln clapped his hands, and made Mr. Seward shake 
hands with the reciter, and cried : 

" Ah ! Billy wrote Shakespeare. Some say he wasn t educated 



enough ; but there s poor white knowledge in Billy, that Lord Bacon 
wouldn t have had. Whenever I heard anything original at the Illi- 
neis bar, it was from a poor fellow who read his law books under 
the shade of a tree where he stopped after he had borrowed them. 
He would give us law and anecdotes, and use as bad law and as 
good human nature as Portia or Imogen." 
The President began from Imogen : 

" I see a man s life is a tedious one. 

Plenty and peace breed cowards ; hardness ever 
Of hardiness is the mother." 

The expected guests had been delayed, and the President went 
on reciting from Shakespeare at many points, seeming to have a 
knowledge of all his works, and inviting Booth to " come on " with 
something better. 

" Ah, Mr. President," spoke the actor, giving Mr. Lincoln all his 
rich, dark, beaming face to enjoy, " if I could only commit my parts 
as you can commit everything ! " 

" Shakespeare, my eloquent young friend," replied the President, 
" is always wise and lovely, but Burns was the poet of the people. 
Shakespeare seems to teach you, but Burns to eat with you and sleep 
in your bed." 

He started Burns with 

" Then let us pray, that come it may, 
(As come it will for a that), 
That Sense and Worth, o er a the earth, 
Shall bear the gree, an a that. 
For a that, an a that, 
It s comin yet for a that, 
That man to man, the world o er, 
Shall brothers be for a that." 

" Seward," said the President, " don t you wish a man like Burns 
was the foreign minister of England ? But we have friends wher 
ever that poetry is believed, and, I think, nowhere else not even 

The President continued to conduct himself like a boy among 
boys, showing that he knew Burns " by heart," as he said ; and his 
heart and merriment recited together, until it was announced that 
the notabilities were coming. 


" Before we go, Mr. President," said Senator Pittson, " I want to 
ask you for a pass for Mr. Beall it was always pronounced Bell 
to visit some kin in lower Maryland." 

" Oh ! the provost can give him that however, Pittson, here is 
my card." 

The President wrote on it, and spelled the name " Bell. " The 
pass was without limit as to time. 

As they arose to go, they saw the strange princes enter with 
their ministers, and the Secretary of State introduce the President, 
in the elegant room set for that purpose, and Lincoln wore the 
dignity and stature of a natural monarch. 

At the portal, going out, Booth and Beall stumbled upon two 
men _one bleached, large-eyed, and walking on a crutch ; the other 
smaller, and wearing spectacles. 

" Mr. Stanton, good-morning," said Booth to the last. 

" Good-morning Mr. John Booth, and Mr. John Beall," spoke 
the other tall and invalid man. " When did you, Mr. Beall, lay 
down your arms ? " 

" Oh, some time ago, Major Luther Bosler," replied Booth ; " he s 
all right now, and has the President s pass." 

"The President s pass," spoke the war minister sternly, "is no 
pass at all. What right have you, as a good citizen, to take up our 
kind magistrate s time with giving passes against his own safety 
and ours ? Major Bosler, have this man report" at the war office 
to-day ! " 

He pointed to Beall and passed in. 

" We will go to the National Hotel, where we stop, and meet you 
there Luther," spoke Booth. 

"There are other things I may want to see you for when I 
come," remarked Luther Bosler, slowly, looking them both gravely 

He passed into the President s mansion. 

Booth stopped a passing cab and bade the driver go hard to his 

" You are in a tight place, John," he said, " but their police sys 
tem is very loose, and I can get you out." 

"I should think so," replied Beall; "why, any assassin could 
reach Abe Lincoln s side. I believe he could be run out of this 
city on his own pass and delivered up in Richmond." 

Booth sat back in the carriage pale and silent ; they were both 


excited, for the gallows might be very close to Captain Beall and 
the Old Capitol Prison close to Mr. Booth. 

They reached the hotel and passed to Booth s room on an upper 
floor. He threw out to Beall a suit of countrymen s clothes and a 
false whisker. 

" Actor s wardrobe," explained Booth, carelessly. " Here is Abe 
Lincoln s pass. What did you think of him ? " 

" Coarse chuck, but all intellect. That s the way with this North : 
it isn t much for stock, or manners, or disinterestedness, but it runs 
to brain like the cauliflower to a head." 

"John Beall," said the actor, all flushed and with compressed 
features, " that man is the most cunning fanatic and hypocrite in 
the world. See how he read Shakespeare ! I want you to lift up 
your right hand and swear to me that you will never use for your 
self, without my knowledge and control, the idea you just now ex 

"What idea?" 

" That old Abe Lincoln can be abducted from Washington and 
carried to Richmond." 

" Pshaw ! It was a mere reflection. Nobody would attempt it." 

"Swear!" hissed Booth; "swear, or you shall not leave this 
city ! " 

"You re mad, I reckon." Beall finished his toilet, 

" That s the idea I had at the grave of John Brown, when I 
asked you what Lincoln would be worth as a hostage. Then I had 
never seen him in his household as we have to-day. Your reflec 
tion has confirmed my idea and observation, and I want to pre 
empt it here. Swear that you will acknowledge me the author of 
the proposition to abduct Abraham Lincoln ! " 

" Why, certainly ; and that you re a fool, too." 

Beall held up his hand and removed his old white slouched hat. 

Booth clasped him in his arms and whispered : 

"My fortune s made! I ll carry the Yankee Washington and 
show him all over the South as a feature of my star engagement. 
By God ! I ll make him recite Shakespeare, and pay him a salary 
or shares. I want you to make the secret proposition for me to the 
Confederate President when you reach Richmond. The man I 
shall ask for to conduct the enterprise is " 

" Not Lloyd Quantrell ? " 

" The very man ! " 


" Why that s the man I want sent to Canada to command my 

" Let him choose between us," spoke Booth. " He is under 
oath to us, since John Brown s raid, to revenge the South, and we ll 
kill him if he shirks his vow ! " 

"Come," said Beall, looking with pinched wonder at Booth s 
demoniac face, as he stood with a great knife unclasped, and blaz 
ing eyes, like Shylock starting to cut Antonio s heart s flesh out. 

When they descended the stairs, Major Luther Bosler was seen 
by the front door of the hotel. 

" Come by the back way," said Booth. " I ll get you out." 

He whispered to a hotel clerk, who conducted them through 
some kitchen apartments to a large, hollow, stable court, out of 
which ran two alleys, but not in line with each other. Taking the 
alley to the left, they entered a quiet street in the rear of the hotel, 
where two common inns stood among livery-stables. 

" This farther tavern," said Booth, " is the stage-office for Port 
Tobacco and Leonardtown. Go in there and take a room, and 
leave Washington by the next stage. You have the highest pass in 
the land. Remember ! " 

Booth went around the corner of the National Hotel, and, enter 
ing the front door on Pennsylvania Avenue, met Senator Pittson 
and Luther Bosler talking in the hotel lobby. 

"Mr. Beall has gone to his people in the Valley," Booth said. 
" Friend Bosler was not too polite with him." 

" Mr. Booth," spoke Edgar Pittson, quietly, " I forbid your 
further visits to my daughter." 



JAKE BOSLER would have been lonely and heart-broken from 
Katy s loss, but that his son had become a great man about the 
government, and had given him honest employment in such wide 
measure that he was growing rich. 

Thousands of horses the old man bought among the Dunkers 
of the East and West and sold them at the regulation price in Balti- 


more. The mighty war minister gave a few Marylanders his trust 
absolutely, and of them was John W. Garrett, the railroad presi 
dent, who shifted armies on his road, and Luther Rosier, the Dun- 
ker, who had now sealed his convictions with his blood. 

He was to Mr. Stanton like both conscience and an orderly 
sergeant, a loyal reprover of his errors and the silent dragoon of 
his secret errands. He was hated, of course, but ambition in him 
was regulated by religion. He, also, honestly thrived in the oppor 
tunities of the time, with his natural genius for business and the 
clairvoyant power of fair-dealing. 

" O Luter, tis money is for nopody now," Jake Bosler said. 
" Nelly is gone ; you has no child ; I haf no Katy." 

The grievous war went on, with the sky in the West always 
light, and at last the West sent her simple captain to the East, to 
wrestle with the mutilated hydra s head. He brought a friend to 
clean up that side-aisle, the Shenandoah Valley, through which 
the heir of General Washington had carried the army of slavery a 
second time into the German settlements, to meet his defeat on the 
sources of the Monocacy among the " nest-hidings " of Hannah 
Ritner and Abel Quantrell. 

The new general in the Valley burned the barns and mills which 
had supplied the devastating insurrection with food ; and in retalia 
tion Chambersburg was raided and burned, greatly to the joy of 
bandits, who remembered that John Brown had made it his base of 

As Brown had been the pilot of Freedom through these valleys, 
a Logan of the slave-catchers was the pilot of a hundred thousand 
insurgents, through his native scenes about Snow Hill, to Gettysburg. 

From that great battle-field Hannah Ritner brought an insurgent 
prisoner by the name of Powell to Baltimore, and set him to work in 
the hospitals. He was the same young Floridian whom Booth had 
encountered at Charlestown. 

The last campaign of the enemy across the Potomac was by the 
slavery candidate for President of the United States ; * his adversary 
was dead, and Mr. Lincoln had become the central character of 
history. This disappointed man, whose loyal uncle had presided 
over the convention to renominate Abraham Lincoln in Baltimore, 
fought a battle near Frederick City, burned houses in the outskirts 

* Breckenridge. 



of Washington, and paraded his troops before one of the forts, and 
then the rebellion fell back from the Potomac forever, and Rich 
mond was beleaguered amid its ghosts and crimes. 

The witnesses of John Brown s deed and death were in their 
graves : Stuart, killed at Yellow Tavern, Stonewall Jackson at Chan- 
cellorsville, General Ashby in the Valley. Booth thought of all 
this with a lonely, savage soul, when he received Beall s letter by 
the secret mail. 

"DEAR SIR: I waited on the Secretary of War at Richmond 
with your proposition ; he was disposed to favor it, but our Presi 
dent set his foot on it. Lincoln, he said,, might be killed in the at 
tempt, and that would inflict a permanent stain upon our reputa 
tion in the eyes of the world ; and, besides, he would not know what 
to do with Lincoln if he had him, and a worse man would then be 
President,* and hang everybody he had hated. The Cabinet is 
nervous about reprisals in case they approve a brigand war near 
Lincoln s person. 

" I asked permission to destroy the enemy s commerce, and it 
was given me with reluctance. I asked Quantrell to be ordered to 
join me, and discovered him dangerously wounded in a hospital. 
Me wanted to pray with me, and denounced our methods of war. 

" So I burned a good many vessels on the Eastern Shore of 
Maryland and made some booty ; have been captured, and was 
threatened with execution as a pirate and a spy ; but our govern 
ment put some of the finest Yankee officers on bread and water, and 
threatened to execute them all, if I was not exchanged. 

" I am not appreciated at my true valuation here in Richmond, 
where self-seeking influence and conservatism prevail, as in all gov 
ernments, and I am going to desert and return, by the help of Lin 
coln s pass, through Maryland to Canada, where I shall try to an 
ticipate this government, which, I have reason TO believe, means to 
use my idea about capturing Johnson s Island for its own glory. I 
will not be robbed of my patent like that ! Secret and extraordi 
nary service agrees with my nature, but I can not serve where I am 
a cipher. 

* The son of Albert Sidney Johnston told the author that a relative of 
Zachary Taylor, who had visited Mr. Lincoln surreptitiously, made the propo 
sition as above, to the insurgent President, and met with the answer in this 



" Your idea would be popular with our people if you could carry 
it to a successful result, which I very much doubt. I shall keep my 
oath to revenge the South and invade her invaders. BEALL." 

Booth read this letter off by a cipher-key he possessed a cylin 
der of printed letters from which a pointer, shifted in a frame, se 
lected the letters meant for those written. The same cipher was in 
the rebel war minister s office. Booth and Beall had obtained mod 
els of it in Canada. 

The bravo finished the letter with fury. They had not even re 
membered him in Richmond, where he was so great a favorite. His 
self esteem was wounded, and his funds, which he had designed to 
replenish by this feat of abducting the President, were down to a 
few hundred dollars. 

He must resume acting, much as he hated steady occupation, 
and he had no status in the North. 

He locked up his effects, took five hundred dollars in his wallet, 
and started for Montreal. 

As he walked through the ladies parlor of the National Hotel, 
in the twilight of evening, a single person sat there by the window, 
and she looked up and saw his white, fierce face. 

" O Mr. Booth, what is the matter? " 

" Miss Pittson, excuse me ; you can have no interest in me. I 
am forbid to speak to you." 

" Who could have injured you in papa s estimation, sir ? You 
were such a true friend so generous, with such a sense of romance, 
that all acting and loving, too, seem tame since you have become a 

" Dear Light, I thought you felt for me. My country is beaten, 
and here in Maryland, where I am a native, all to whom I am can 
did upon my political feelings suspect me. It is the Dutch Hessian, 
Bosler, the tool of that devil, Stanton, who has caused your father 
to insult me ! " 

" Surely not ; he is so mild. Next to you, I esteemed him my 
noblest friend." 

" Light " he had taken her hand and drawn her within the 
darkness of the window-curtains " can you love a poor rebel, with 
out a country, with no other home than his genius can find, but that 
home certain if you will fly to it, and be his friend ? Oh, I am so 
much forgotten, so desolate ! " 


He assumed the tones and hyperbole of the stage, and drew her 
large, impetuous frame close to his eyes, which seemed to make 
room by their blackness in the dark. 

" I feel for your defeat in battle," she said ; " I sympathize with 
the brave. I will go with you to the ends of the earth ! " 

The sense of romance had raised her, in truth, to his simulated 
passion ; he touched the lips nothing less than filial affection had 
kissed, with a mouth which had gone wandering like a jackal s appe 

" My darling," he sighed, "we will fly to the land of the bonnie 
blue flag. I am going to Canada to send my wardrobe there. My 
country will hail you as my Pocahontas, my queen. Oh, there are 
ardent and hospitable hearts there ! My family name is greater in 
England than in America, and we can cross the ocean and unite 
my patriotism and your romance in everlasting poetry and pas 
sion ! " 

As she promised to keep his secret and await him, a light foot 
touched the curtain ; a match flashed upon the gas-bracket at their 
side, and the senator s wife looked scorn upon Booth and anger upon 
her child. 

" Go to your room, miss ! " she said, and once more bent on 
Booth a glance of such loathing that he retorted : 

" Madam, I am a gentleman ! " 

" You are the first that ever said so," answered Mrs. Pittson. 

He felt but little rage as he went down the stairs, chuckling to 
himself : 

" Lucky at cards, unlucky in love not I ! There is time before 
the train for a visit to Nelly." 

He took a carnage and was driven toward the Treasury Depart 
ment. They were lighting the lamps at the National Theatre as his 
carriage turned to the left at Thirteenth Street, and went slowly 
over the unpaved roads through the Alsatia of the town, where 
blacks and whites feasted by crime and license upon the wandering 
habits of war. Dwellings neglected and unpainted stood amid tot 
tering rows of tenements ; music and laughter came from low bar 
rooms where soldiers treated women ; a sinister and suspicious look 
was over everything. 

At the farthest margin of this central pest-place, where the city 
seemed to stop at a desert of rubbish-fields, upon a desolate avenue 
never yet occupied or paved, stood a brick structure at a corner, like 


a wheelwright s shop, with habitations above it. Booth applied a 
key and felt his way along a stair to a door in a corridor, at which 
he knocked. 

There seemed to be whispering within. 

He knocked again, with the decision of jealousy. 

The door opened, and Nelly Harbaugh appeared with a candle. 
Before she could distinguish him, Booth had seized and kissed her, 
saying : 

" Nell, I am going away, and my heart is full of you ! " 

"You are?" the girl answered leaner, fiercer, commonly at 
tired. "Why don t you go jump off the Long Bridge? Nobody 
cares what becomes of you ! " 

" O Nelly ! I depend on you more than ever, as I grow more 
estranged from good fortune. Don t break my heart ! " 

" I would if I could, and let the lies and serpents in it loose ! 
Here am I, making my living by taking little menial parts at the 
theatres, standing in the chorus and processions, and tempted by a 
thousand men yet true to the dismal sin you deceived me to com 
mit. I learned enough of man when I knew you, John Booth. Go, 
quit my door ! the theatre is soon to begin, and I must take my stand 
among the supernumeraries. Not a dollar have you sent me in 
months ! " 

" Nell, I have been in a great scheme, waiting on ungrateful 
friends. Here is money ; take what you want." 

She put down the candle and took his hand, full of notes, and 
threw it against his breast. 

" Judas ! " she said. " Not one of your thirty pieces will I ever 
take. You have degraded my soul. Nothing but ambition gave 
you the victory over me. I never loved you. My heart is true to 
the man I still expect to fall to my experience and forgive me ! " 

The action and the words raised the brute in him. 

" Whispering, were you ? " he hissed. " Let me search a min 
ute ! " 

" Go out ! " commanded Nelly Harbaugh. " I don t want to 
hang you, but every rag in this room is mine, and I will defend my 
property against the thief who robbed me of my character." 

She had cocked a pistol in his face, and aimed behind it, like 
famine full of recklessness. 

With a movement of his foot he tripped her, never ceasing to 
look into her eyes, and, as she stumbled, he seized the pistol in one 



hand and her throat with the other. His arms were like swelling 
bands of steel. 

The powerful young woman threw ail her weight upon him, but 
in the wrestle his gymnasium art enabled him to turn her sidewise 
and to fall above. 

Before he could conclude what to do, a cord was thrown around 
his arms and neck repeatedly, and it entangled his knees. He gasped 
and fell. 

The cord was drawn tighter. Nelly Harbaugh arose, and stood 
before him with the pistol cocked again. He felt death to be in her 
eyes, and strangulation from some hidden foe was overtaking him. 

" Now, you slave-dog," spoke the fierce woman, " I may as well 
end you and save innocent souls ! My father was a soldier ; I am a 
mountain-girl. Kneel down and pray ! " 

He sank upon his knees. Death was before him and the cord 

" Nelly," exclaimed a deep voice, "don t shoot ! Open the win 
dow, and you can call for help if we need it. He is tame now." 

The girl threw up the broken casement, and stood beside it with 
the candle. 

When Booth recovered strength enough to see, a large woman 
sat before him, and Nelly Harbaugh was guarding the door with the 

He looked into the strange woman s face. It was the same 
which had read him the fierce, fateful prophecy at Harper s Ferry 
with Atzerodt. 

" In some such naked place as this," exclaimed Hannah Ritner, 
slowly, to Booth, " your pride and cruelty will end unless you can 
repent. Did you not come from a lady s side this night, full of 
lies and deceit, to glut your unbridled wickedness upon this deserted 
temple of my sex ? " 

She pointed to Nelly Harbaugh, in all that actress s unconsciously 
awakened powers of beauty and expression. 

" Witch," spoke Booth, in a spiritless tone, " if you tell fortunes 
right, you know I love this cruel girl alone, and none besides." 

His voice gave way in tears ; he was the greater woman now. 

" If you love Nelly," asked Hannah Ritner, melting somewhat 
herself, " what makes you neglect her, and be the disturber of the 
generous heart of Miss Pitt son ? " 

" Mischief," said Booth. " Ambition and the devil! " 


" Rise up and go," commanded Hannah Ritner. " We know 
you now, and do not fear you. The cord I predicted for you has 
already been around your neck. Beware next of the eternal fire ! " 

He staggered up and looked around ; they were prepared for 
him at every point, both watching him with the courage of confed 

" I know you always carry a pistol, sir," Nelly Harbaugh re 
marked. " Touch your hand to your hip, and your little brains will 
be spilt upon this bare floor ! " 

" Nelly, do you hate me ? " 

"I do!" 

" Then kill me ! I came here to-night to designate the leading 
parts you were to play with me in the West on my return from 
Canada. Since you do not care for me, my career is done." 

" Go ! " said Nelly Harbaugh ; " you have told lies enough. I am 
now prepared to play leading parts, and hire such unreliable actors 
as you to support me." 

As his footsteps died on the stairs, Nelly Harbaugh fell at Han 
nah Ritner s feet. 

" Must I forgive him ? " she said. " I do hate him, but I want 
to play so much ! " 

" Be prepared for what may come, ambitious girl ! You may 
save this man from greater crimes ; if he disappoints you, I will see 
that you have an opening for your talents, if you will be faithful. 
Then, he did see Light Pittson to-night." 

" O Hannah ! " exclaimed Nelly Harbaugh, " were you only find 
ing out what you professed to know ? " 

" Come ! " concluded the fortune-teller, " it is time you were at 
the theatre. We all act a little. You say Lloyd Quantrell treated 
you like a gentleman and no oppressor ? " 

" Hannah,1ie was a brother to me in Richmond. How different 
the manly Southern soldier from these low spies between the lines ! 
If poor Lloyd was alive, Katy Bosler would find him a gallant and 
tender man, I know." 

Booth walked along the streets of what was called " Murder 
Bay," in Washington, with a nature cowed yet treacherous. He 
yearned for some occasion to excite his prowess again. It came as 
he passed the intervening corner and heard cries from a small frame 
cabin where women and men were fighting in a low bar-room. Bend 
ing and stealing along like a cat, Booth reached the small box-win- 



dow, and, peering within, saw the positions of the drunken combat 

In a moment he was among them, fighting cool and manfully, 
every blow of his powerful arm felling a man ; and before they 
could determine whether he was officer, or policeman, or an appa 
rition, he had leaped over the threshold and turned the corner; 
and at the theatre, across the avenue, he stopped and drank some 

Are you going up to see the President ? " asked the bar- keeper. 
" He s got a box here to-night." 

"No," answered Booth, with a rolling curse at Mr. Lincoln; 
" I ll go through under the stage, though." 

He passed on to an alley and area in the rear of the theatre, 
used to get in scenery and horses, and afford escape from the stage in 
case of fire. 

As he stood there, the " Star-spangled Banner " was played 
within, and its high-pitched, swelling strains streamed into the cul- 
de-sac of the alley and empty square, to take the resonance of walls 
and stables, and echo with a lonely grandeur on the vagabond s soli 
tude. The President was entering the theatre. Booth listened with 
the hate of convicted insignificance to the loud applause of the grate 
ful people. 

A woman came out of the theatre back door into the area and 
shut the door behind her. 

Booth crouched behind a step and heard her say : 

" For this painted life I left a good man and despised a church 
God forgive me ! " 

Nelly Harbaugh threw back her long, yellow hair, drew in the 
balm of the night and the twinkling childhood of little stars, and 
re-entered the National Theatre. 

A horse, from one of the stables in the alley, made a great 
clattering on the stones as he was ridden out of the alley to F 
Street. Booth walked after the horse, and came out into this thor 
oughfare between blank house-walls. He stopped in the outlet and 
looked back, 

" I could have killed Abe Lincoln," said he, "and been half-way 
to Capitol Hill on that horse. These blind alleys behind the theatres 
have no connection with the audience or the street in front, except 
by that little postern-door ! " 

Something in the idea put nerve into his step, and he walked 


down F Street rapidly three blocks to Tenth. There rose before 
him. in the soft night, the pediment, pilasters, and many Roman 
doors of Ford s Theatre, with drinking-kennels along its sides. It 
had once been a Christian church. 

Booth turned down a dark alley from F Street running to a large 
court at right angles with the alley. Only one house had a door 
upon the alley, and the court contained several stables and no re 
spectable habitation ; but, to the right, the great naked gable of the 
church-theatre closed the court, and one small door was low to the 

Booth opened this door and stepped into the lighted theatre. A 
man called his name one Spangler, a Baltimorean, half carpenter, 
half drudge. 

" Hallo, Ned ! " said Booth, and advanced with the man toward 
the corner of the stage. " Which box, Ned, does the President gen 
erally occupy here ? " 

" That upper one, across yonder they knock them two boxes 
into one." 

Booth looked up, and a woman in the box raised her handker 
chief to her lips and smiled at him. 

It was Light Pittson, with her father and old Abel Quantrell 
beside her. How much they all looked alike ! 

Booth raised his finger to his lips and drew back. 

" Ned," said he, as he stepped out into the desolate area behind 
the theatre, " see how much you can rent me one of these old stables 
for. I may want to keep a horse." 

He gave the man a quarter of a dollar. Nothing but a home 
less dog roamed the old court as he left it by the alley and regained 
the street. 

He was trembling. To men of his profession, who live by rote 
and imitation, an original idea often carries all the vanity of author 
ship. He turned into a large brick inn at the corner of Ninth Street 
and ordered a cock-tail of brandy. 

" Drink with me," he said to the bar-keeper ; " I have got an idea 
for a play I wouldn t sell to President Lincoln s Billy Shakespeare." 

Yet that night, as Mr. Booth traveled northward, his sobs were 
heard from his berth by fellow passengers. 

What was it made him weep ? 

Not his new idea for a play. 

Not his prodigal and precocious life. 



Not even Light Pittson, in the ripeness of pure womanhood and 
the devotion of romance. 

It was the loss of Nelly Harbaugh s regard. 

Sometimes the deceiver becomes the forsaken ; and that, when 
he can no longer appreciate purity. 

As Booth reached Canada, he found great excitement there. 

John Beall had seized a small American passenger-steamer ply 
ing between Canada and the United States, and with it committed 
several piratical deeds, but had failed to attack Johnson s Island, 
where his spy had been detected, and the tardy Canadians were 
now giving up some of Beall s men, and were searching for him. 

Booth had barely arrived in Canada when another gang of ban 
dits, in the name of the insurgent States, crossed the American line 
and robbed a bank and shed blood, regardless of the hospitality they 
had solicited or the rights of nations. They returned to Montreal 
to show their commissions from Richmond, and to make a series of 
illiterate affidavits rejoicing in their shame. 

The Americans, now aroused, turned on Canada and crossed 
the border. Fear exacted what civilization could not obtain, and 
the British line was at last policed by the Canadians, but not until 
a band of felons had endeavored to set fire to the city of New York, 
one of whom, an escaped prisoner from Johnson s Island, was capt 
ured with his combustible in his hand.