And Other Sketches
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THE
LUCK OF ROARING CAMP
AND OTHER SKETCHES.
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CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W.
THE
LUCK OF ROARING CAMP
AND OTHER SKETCHES
BY
BRET HARTE
A NEW EDITION
ilontjon
-CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY
CONTENTS.
I. SKETCHES— PAGE
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP . . . .1
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT . . , .15
HIGGLES V:'. \Y": 'YV ••"..' "'"? «;" • • ,28
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER . • . v;'. . ., . .41
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH . . „ . 52
HIGH-WATER MARK . . . ^ . . . 63
A LONELY RIDE . "-..' ' , _ . , . . . 72
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT . .. \ » : . . 79
II. STORIES—
MLISS . '. . V . r .' " . . . 85
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER Y\ . 1 15
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD , - .« . . 124
III. BOHEMIAN PAPERS—
THE MISSION DOLORES . - , . • */ . . 150
JOHN CHINAMAN . . . . . . . 153
FROM A BACK WINDOW . . . . .156
BOONDER , 159
vi CONTENTS.
SENSATION NOVELS CONDENSED-
PAGE
SELINA SEDILIA. BY MISS M. E. B-DD-N AND MRS.
H-N-Y W-D . . . ' .. . . 165
FANTINE. AFTER THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO . 173
TERENCE DEUVILLE. BY CH-L-S L-V-R . , . '178
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. BY SIR ED-D
L-TT-N B-LW-R . -. * ... . , 184
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. BY AL-X-D-R D-M-S 189
MUCK-A-MUCK. A MODERN INDIAN NOVEL. AFTER
COOPER . ; * . • * • • • * I9^
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. BY CAPTAIN M-RRY-T, R.N. 204
GUY HEAVYSTONE ; OR, " ENTIRE." A MUSCULAR
NOVEL. BY THE AUTHOR OF " SWORD AND GUN" 212
THE HAUNTED MAN. A CHRISTMAS STORY. BY
CII-R-S D-CK-NS ... » . -, . "• " ,. 219
"LA FEMME." AFTER THE FRENCH OF M. MICHELET 228
MARY M'GILLUP. A SOUTHERN NOVEL. AFTER
BELLE BOYD . . • . • . - * * » 232
MISS MIX. BY CH-L-TTE BR-NTE . « t , 238
N. N. BEING A NOVEL IN THE FRENCH PARAGRAPHIC
STYLfc . . . . . . . . 248
NO TITLE. BY W-LK-E C-LL-NS . . . .252
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. BY CH-S R-DE 260
CONTENTS. vii
SIvLTCHES — PAGE
ME. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL . . . . . 273
MELONS 282
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW . . .289
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM . . , . . 302
THE
LUCK OF ROARING CAMP
AND OTHER SKETCHES.
L-SKETCHES.
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
'HPHERE was commotion in Roaring Camp. It could
-1- not have been a fight, for in 1850 that was not novel
enough to have called together the entire settlement. The
ditches and claims were not only deserted, but " Tuttle's
grocery" had contributed its gamblers, who, it will be re
membered, calmly continued their game the day that French
Pete and Kanaka Joe shot each other to death over the bar
in the front room. The whole camp was collected before a
rude cabin on the outer edge of the clearing. Conversation
was carried on in a low tone, but the name of a woman was
frequently repeated. It was a name familiar enough in the
camp, — " Cherokee Sal."
Perhaps the less said of her the better. She was a coarse,
and, it is to be feared, a very sinful woman. But at that
time she was the only woman in Roaring Camp, and was
just then lying in sore extremity, when she most needed the
ministration of her own sex. Dissolute, abandoned, and
irreclaimable, she was yet suffering a martyrdom hard
enough to bear even when veiled by sympathizing woman
hood, but now terrible in her loneliness. The primal curse
had come to her in that original isolation which must have
made the punishment of the first transgression so dreadful.
It was, perhaps, part of the expiation of her sin, that, at s
v 2
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
Tuoment when she most lacked her sex's intuitive tenderness
and care, she met only the half-contemptuous faces of her
masculine associates. Yet a few of the spectators were, I
think, touched by her sufferings. Sandy Tipton thought it
was " rough on Sal," and, in the contemplation of her con
dition, for a moment rose superior to the fact that he had an
ace and two bowers in his sleeve.
It will be seen, also, that the situation was novel. Deaths
were by no means uncommon in Roaring Camp, but a birth
was a new thing. People had been dismissed the camp
effectively, finally, and with no possibility of return; but
this was the first time that anybody had been introduced
ab initio. Hence the excitement.
"You go in there, Stumpy," said a prominent citizet
known as " Kentuck," addressing one of the loungers. " Go
in there, and see what you kin do. You've had experience
in them things."
Perhaps there was a fitness in the selection. Stumpy, in
other climes, had been the putative head of two families ; in
fact, it was owing to some legal informality in these pro
ceedings that Roaring Camp — a city of refuge — was in
debted to his company. The crowd approved the choice,
and Stumpy was wise enough to bow to the majority. The
door closed on the extempore surgeon and midwife, and
Roaring Camp sat down outside, smoked its pipe, and
awaited the issue.
The assemblage numbered about a hundred men. One or
two of these were actual fugitives from justice, some were
criminal, and all were reckless. Physically, they exhibited
no indication of their past lives and character. The greatest
scamp had a Raphael face, with a profusion of blond hair ;
Oakhurst, a gambler, had the melancholy air and intellectual
abstraction of a Hamlet ; the coolest and most courageous
man was scarcely over five feet in height, with a soft voice
and an embarrassed, timid manner. The tf.rm "rouphs"
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 5
applied to tliem was a distinction rather than a definition.
Perhaps in the minor details of fingers, toes, ears, &c., the
camp may have been deficient j but these slight omissions
did not detract from their aggregate force. The strongest
man had but three fingers on his right hand ; the best shot
had but one eye.
Such was the physical aspect of the men that were dis
persed around the cabin. The camp lay in a triangular
valley, between two hills and a river. The only outlet was
a steep trail over the summit of a hill that faced the cabin,
now illuminated by the rising moon. The suffering woman
might have seen it from the rude bunk whereon she lay, —
seen it winding like a silver thread until it was lost in the
stars above.
A fire of withered pine-boughs added sociability to the
gathering. By degrees the natural levity of Roaring Camp
returned. Bets were freely offered and taken regarding the
result. Three to five that " Sal would get through with
it ; " even that the child would survive ; side bets as to the
sex and complexion of the coming stranger. In the midst
of an excited discussion an exclamation came from those
nearest the door, and the camp stopped to listen. Above
the swaying and moaning of the pines, the swift rush of the
river, and the crackling of the fire, rose a sharp, querulous
cry — a cry unlike anything heard before in the camp. The
pines stopped moaning, the river ceased to rush, and the
lire to crackle. It seemed as if Nature had stopped to
listen too.
The camp rose to its feet as one man ! It was proposed
to explode a barrel of gunpowder, but, in consideration of
the situation of the mother, better counsels prevailed, and
only a few revolvers were discharged ; for, whether owing
to the rude surgery of the camp, or some other reason,
Cherokee Sal was sinking fast. Within an hour she had
climbed, as it were, that rugged road that led to the stars,
6 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
and so passed out of Roaring Camp, its sin and shame, for
ever. I do not think that the announcement disturbed
them much, except in speculation as to the fate of the child.-
"Can he live now?" was asked of Stumpy. The answer
was doubtful. The only other being of Cherokee Sal's se£
and maternal condition in the settlement was an ass. There
was some, conjecture as to fitness, but the experiment was
tried. It was less problematical than the ancient treatment
of Romulus and Remus, and apparently as successful.
When these details were completed, which exhausted
another hour, the door was opened, and the anxious crowd
of men who had already formed themselves into a queue,
entered in single file. Beside the low bunk or shelf, on
which the figure of the mother was starkly outlined below
the blankets, stood a pine table. On this a candle-box was
placed, and within it, swathed in staring red flannel, lay the
last arrival at Roaring Camp. Beside the candle-box was
placed a hat. Its use was soon indicated. " Gentlemen,"
said Stumpy, with a singular mixture of authority and ex
qfficio complacency, — " Gentlemen will please pass in at the
front door, round the table, and out at the back door. Them
as wishes to contribute anything toward the orphan will find
a hat handy." The first man entered with his hat on ; he
uncovered, however, as he looked about him, and so, uncon
sciously, set an example to the next. In such communities
good and bad actions are catching. As the procession filed
in, comments were audible, — criticisms addressed, perhaps,
rather to Stumpy, in the character of showman, — " Is that
him ? " " mighty small specimen ; " " hasn't mor'n got the
colour" "ain't bigger nor a derringer." The contributions
were as characteristic : A silver tobacco-box ; a doubloon ;
a navy revolver, silver mounted ; a gold specimen ; a very
beautifully embroidered lady's handkerchief from Oakhurst,
the gambler) ; a diamond breastpin ; a diamond ring (sug
gested by the pin, with the remark from the giver that he
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMF. ?
" saw that pin and went two diamonds better ") j a slung
shot j a Bible (contributor not detected) ; a golden spur ;
a silver teaspoon (the initials, I regret to say, were not the
giver's) ; a pair of surgeon's shears ; a lancet ; a Bank of
England note for £5 ; and about $200 in loose gold and
silver <coin. During these proceedings Stumpy maintained a
silence as impassive as the dead on his left, a gravity as in
scrutable as that of the newly born on his right. Only one
incident occurred to break the monotony of the curious pro
cession. As Kentuck bent over the candle-box half curi
ously, the child turned, and, in a spasm of pain, caught at
his groping finger, and held it fast for a moment. Kentuck
looked foolish and embarrassed. Something like a blush
tried to assert itself in his weather-beaten cheek. "The
d — d little cuss ! " he said, as he extricated his finger, with,
perhaps, more tenderness and care than he might have been
deemed capable of showing. He held that finger a little
apart from its fellows as he went out, and examined it
curiously. The examination provoked the same original re
mark in regard to the child. In fact, he seemed to enjoy
repeating it. " He rastled with my finger," he remarked to
Tipton, holding up the member, " the d — cl little cuss ! "
It was four o'clock before the camp sought repose. A
light burnt in the cabin where the watchers sat, for Stumpy
did not go to bed that night. Nor did Kentuck. He drank
quite freely, and related with great gusto his experience, in
variably ending with his characteristic condemnation of the
new-comer. It seemed to relieve him of any unjust impli
cation of sentiment, and Kentuck had the weaknesses of
the nobler sex. When everybody else had gone to bed, ho
walked down to the river, and whistled reflectingly. Then
he walked up the gulch, past the cabin, still whistling with
demonstrative unconcern. At a large red-wood tree he
paused and retraced his steps, and again passed the cabin.
Half- way down to the river's bank he again paused., and then
8 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
returned and knocked at the door. It was opened by
Stumpy. "How goes it ?" said Kentuck, looking past
Stumpy toward the candle-box. "All serene," replied
Stumpy. "Anything up?" "Nothing." There was a
pause- an embarrassing one — Stumpy still holding the door.
Then Kentuck had recourse to his finger, which he held up
to Stumpy. " Rastled with it, — the d — d little cuss," he
said, and retired.
The next day Cherokee Sal had such rude sepulture as
Hearing Camp afforded. After her body had been com
mitted to the hill-side, there was a formal meeting of the
camp to discuss what should be done with her infant. A
resolution to adopt it was unanimous and enthusiastic. But
an animated discussion in regard to the manner and feasibility
of providing for its wants at once sprung up. It was re
markable that the argument partook of none of those fierce
personalities with which discussions were usually conducted at
Hearing Camp. Tipton proposed that they should send the
child to Eed Dog, — a distance of forty miles, — where female
attention could be procured. But the unlucky suggestion
met with fierce and unanimous opposition. It was evident
that no plan which entailed parting from their new acquisi
tion would for a moment be entertained. " Besides," said
Tom Ryder, "them fellows at Red Dog would swap it, and
ring in somebody else on us." A disbelief in the honesty of
other camps prevailed at Roaring Camp as in other places.
The introduction of a female nurse in the camp also met
with objection. It was argued that no decent woman could
be prevailed to accept Roaring Camp as her home, and the
speaker urged that " they didn't want any more of the other
kind." This unkind allusion to the defunct mother, harsh as
it may seem, was the first spasm of propriety, — the first
symptom of the camp's regeneration. Stumpy advanced
nothing. Perhaps he felt a certain delicacy in interfering
with the selection of a possible successor in office. But when
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 9
questioned, he averred stoutly that he and " Jinny " — the
mammal before alluded to — could manage to rear the child.
There was something original, independent, and heroic about
the .plan that pleased the camp. Stumpy was retained.
Certain articles were sent for to Sacramento. "Mind," said
the treasurer, as he pressed a bag of gold-dust into the
expressman's hand, "the best that can be got,— lace, you
know, and filigree-work and frills — d — n the cost ! "
Strange to say, the child thrived. Perhaps the invigorat
ing climate of the mountain camp was compensation for
material deficiencies. Nature took the fondling to her
broader breast. In that rare atmosphere of the Sierra foot
hills, — that air pungent with balsamic odour, that ethereal
cordial at once bracing and exhilarating, — he may have
found food and nourishment, or a subtle chemistry that
transmuted asses' milk to lime and phosphorus. Stumpy
inclined to the belief that it was the latter, and good nurs
ing. " Me and that ass," he would say, " has been father and
mother to him ! Don't you," he would add, apostrophizing
the helpless bundle before him, " never go back on us."
By the time he was a month old, the necessity of giving
him a name became apparent. He had generally been
known as "the Kid," " Stumpy's boy," "theCayote" (an
allusion to his vocal powers), and even by Kerituck's endear
ing diminutive of " the d — d little cuss." But these were
felt to be vague and unsatisfactory, and were at last dis
missed under another influence. Gamblers and adventurers
are generally superstitious, and Oakhurst one day declared
that the baby had brought " the luck" to Roaring Camp.
It was certain that of late they had been successful.
" Luck " was the name agreed upon, with the prefix of
Tommy for greater convenience. No allusion was made to
the mother, and the father was unknown. " It 's better,"
said the philosophical Oakhurst, " to take a fresh deal all
round. Call him Luck, and start him fair." A day wag
io THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
accordingly set apart for the christening. What was meant
by this ceremony the reader may imagine, who has already
gathered some idea of the reckless irreverence of Roaring
Camp. The master of ceremonies was one " Boston," a
noted wag, and the occasion seemed to promise the greatest
facetiousness. This ingenious satirist had spent two days
in preparing a burlesque of the church service, with pointed
local allusions. The choir was properly trained, and Sanely
Tipton was to stand godfather. But after the procession had
marched to the grove with music and banners, and the child
had been deposited before a mock altar, Stumpy stepped
before the expectant crowd. " It ain't my style to spoil fun,
boys," said the little man, stoutly, eyeing the faces around
him, " but it strikes me that this thing ain't exactly on the
squar. It 's playing it pretty low down on this yer baby to
ring in fun on him that he ain't going to understand. And
ef there 's going to be any godfathers round, I 'd like to see
who's got any better rights than me." A silence followed
Stumpy's speech. To the credit of all humorists be it said,
that the first man to acknowledge its justice was the sa
tirist, thus stopped of his fun. " But," said Stumpy, quickly,
following up his advantage, " we 're here for a christening,
and we '11 have it. I proclaim you Thomas Luck, according
to the laws of the United States and the State of Cali
fornia, so help me God." It was the first time that the
name of the Deity had been uttered otherwise than pro
fanely in the camp. The form of christening was perhaps
even more ludicrous than the satirist had conceived ; but,
strangely enough, nobody saw it, and nobody laughed.
" Tommy" was christened as seriously as he would have
been under a Christian roof, and cried and was comforted in
as orthodox fashion.
And so the work of regeneration began in Roaring Camp.
Almost imperceptibly a change came over the settlement.
The cabin assigned to " Tommy Luck"— or " The Luck,"
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 1 1
as he was more frequently called — first showed signs of
improvement. It was kept scrupulously clean and white
washed. Then it was boarded, clothed, and papered. The
rosewood cradle — packed eighty miles by mule — had, in
Stumpy's way of putting it, " sorter killed the rest of the
furniture." So the rehabilitation of the cabin became a
necessity. The men who were in the habit of lounging in
at Stumpy's to see " how the Luck got on" seemed to appre
ciate the change, and, in self-defence, the rival establish
ment of "Tattle's grocery" bestirred itself, and imported
a carpet and mirrors. The reflections of the latter on the
appearance of Eoaring Camp tended to produce stricter
habits of personal cleanliness. Again, Stumpy imposed a
kind of quarantine upon those who aspired to the honour
and privilege of holding " The Luck." It was a cruel mor
tification to Kentuck — who, in the carelessness of a large
nature and the habits of frontier life, had begun to regard
all garments as a second cuticle, which, like a snake's, only
sloughed off through decay — to be debarred this privilege
from certain prudential reasons. Yet such was the subtle
influence oi innovation that he thereafter appeared regularly
every afternoon in a clean shirt, and face still shining from
his ablutions. Nor were moral and social sanitary laws
neglected. " Tommy," who was supposed to spend his whole
existence in a persistent attempt to repose, must not be
disturbed by noise. The shouting and yelling which had
gained the camp its infelicitous title were not permitted
within hearing distance of Stumpy's. The men conversed in
whispers, or smoked with Indian gravity. Profanity was
tacitly given up in these sacred precincts, and throughout
the camp a popular form of expletive, known as " D — u the
luck ! " and " Curse the luck ! " was abandoned, as having a
new personal bearing. Vocal music was not interdicted,
being supposed to have a soothing, tranquillizing quality,
and one song, sung by " Man-o'-war Jack," an English
12 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
sailor, from her Majesty's Australian colonies, was quite
popular as a lullaby. It was a lugubrious recital of the
exploits of " the Arethusa, Seventy-four," in a muffled
minor, ending with a prolonged dying fall at the burden
of each verse, " On b-o-o-o-ard of the Arethusa." Jt was a
fine sight to see Jack holding The Luck, rocking from side
to side as if with the motion of a ship, and crooning forth
this naval ditty. Either through the peculiar rocking of
Jack or the length of his song — it contained ninety stanzas,
and was continued with conscientious deliberation to the
bitter end — the lullaby generally had the desired effect.
At such times the men would lie at full length under the
trees, in the soft summer twilight, smoking their pipes and
drinking in the melodious utterances. An indistinct idea
that this was pastoral happiness pervaded the camp. " This
'ere kind o' think," said the Cockney Simmons, meditatively
reclining on his elbow, "is 'evingly." It reminded him of
Greenwich.
On the long summer days The Luck was usually carried
to the gulch, from whence the golden store of Roaring Camp
was taken. There, on a blanket spread over pine-boughs, he
would lie while the men were working in the ditches below.
Latterly there was a rude attempt to decorate this bower
with flowers and sweet-smelling shrubs, and generally some
one would bring him a cluster of wild honeysiickles, azaleas,
or the painted blossoms of Las Mariposas. The men had
suddenly awakened, to the fact that there were beauty and
significance in these trifles, which they had so long trodden
carelessly beneath their feet. A flake of glittering mica, a
fragment of variegated quartz, a bright pebble from the bed
of the creek, became beautiful to eyes thus cleared and
strengthened, and were invariably put aside for "The Luck.'»
It was wonderful how many treasures the woods and hill
sides yielded that " would do for Tommy." Surrounded by
playthings such as never child out of fairy-land had before,
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 13
it is to be hoped that Tommy was content. He appeared
to be securely happy, albeit there was an infantine gravity
about him, a contemplative light in his round gray eyes,
that sometimes worried Stumpy. He was always tractable
and quiet, and it is recorded that once, having crept beyond
his "corral," — a hedge of tessellated pine-boughs, which
surrounded his bed, — he dropped over the bank on his head
in the soft earth, and remained with his mottled legs in the
air in that position for at least five minutes with unflinching
gravity. He was extricated without a murmur. I hesitate
to record the many other instances of his sagacity, which
rest, unfortunately, upon the statements of prejudiced friends.
Some of them were not without a tinge of superstition. " I
crep' up the bank just now," said Kentuck, one clay, in a
breathless state of excitement, "and dern my skin if he
wasn't a talking to a jay-bird as was a sittin' on his lap.
There they was, just as free and sociable as anything you
please, a jawin' at each other just like two cherry-bums."
Howbeit, whether creeping over the pine-boughs or lying
lazily on his back blinking at the leaves above him, to him
the birds sang, the squirrels chattered, and the flowers
bloomed. Nature was his nurse and playfellow. For him
she would let slip between the leaves golden shafts of sun
light that fell just within his grasp ; she would send wander
ing breezes to visit him with the balm of bay and resinous
gums ; to him the tall red-woods nodded familiarly and
sleepily, the bumble-bees buzzed, and the rooks cawed a
slumbrous accompaniment.
Such was the golden summer of Roaring Camp. They
were "flush times," — and the luck was with them. Tho
claims had yielded enormously. The camp was jealous of its
privileges, and looked suspiciously on strangers. No encou
ragement was given to immigration, and, to make their
seclusion more perfect, the land on either side of the moun-
t:iin-wall that surrounded the camp they duly pre-empted.
14 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP.
This, and a reputation for singular proficiency with the
revolver, kept the reserve of Roaring Camp inviolate. The
expressman — their only connecting link with the surround
ing world — sometimes told wonderful stories of the camp.
He would say, " They've a street up there in f Hearing,' that
would lay over any street in Red Dog. They've got vines
and flowers round their houses, and they wash themselves
twice a day. But they're mighty rough on strangers, and
they worship an Ingin baby."
With the prosperity of the camp came a desire for further
improvement. It was proposed to build a hotel in the follow
ing spring, and to invite one or two decent families to reside
there for the sake of " The Luck," — who might perhaps profit
by female companionship. The sacrifice that this concession
to the sex cost these men, who were fiercely sceptical in
regard to its general virtue and usefulness, can only be
accounted for by their affection for Tommy. A few still
held out. But the resolve could not be carried into effect
for three months, and the minority meekly yielded in the
hope that something might turn up to prevent it. And it
did.
The winter of 1851 will long be remembered in the foot
hills. The snow lay deep on the Sierras, and every mountain
creek became a river, and every river a lake. Each gorge
and gulch was transformed into a tumultuous watercourse,
that descended the hill-sides, tearing down giant trees, and
scattering its drift and debris along the plain. Red Dog had
been twice under water, and Roaring Camp had been fore
warned. "Water put the gold into them gulches," said
Stumpy; "it's been here once and will be here again!"
And that night the North Fork suddenly leaped over its
banks, and swept up the triangular valley of Roaring Camp.
In the confusion of rushing water, crushing trees, and
crackling timber, and the darkness which seemed to flow
with the water and blot out the fair valley, but little could
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 15
be done to collect the scattered camp. When the morning
broke, the cabin of Stumpy nearest the river -bank was gone.
Higher up the gulch they found the body of its unlucky
owner; but the pride, the hope, the joy, the Luck of Hoar-
ing Camp had disappeared. They were returning with sad
hearts, when a shout from the bank recalled them.
It was a relief-boat from down the river. They had picked
up, they said, a man and an infant, nearly exhausted, about
two miles below. Did anybody know them, and did they
belong here ?
It needed but a glance to show them Kentuck lying there,
cruelly crushed and bruised, but still holding the Luck of
Roaring Camp in his arms. As they bent over the strangely
assorted pair, they saw that the child was cold and pulseless.
"He is dead," said one. Kentuck opened his eyes. "Dead'?"
he repeated, feebly. "Yes, my man, and you are dying too."
A smile lit the eyes of the expiring Kentuck. "Dying," he
repeated, " he's a taking me with him, — tell the boys I've
got the Luck with me now;" and the strong man, clinging
to the frail babe as a drowning man is said to cling to a
straw, drifted away into the shadowy river that flows for
ever to the unknown sea.
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
< A S Mr. John Oakhurst, gambler, stepped into the main
street of Poker Flat on the morning of the twenty-
third of November, 1850, he was conscious of a change in
its moral atmosphere since the preceding night. Two or
three men, conversing earnestly together, ceased as he
approached, and exchanged significant glances. There was a
Sabbath lull in the air, which, in a settlement unused to
Sabbath influences, looked ominous.
i6 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
Mr. Oakhurst's calm, handsome face betrayed small con
cern in these indications. Whether he was conscious of any
predisposing cause, was another question. "I reckon they're
after somebody," he reflected ; "likely it's me." He returned
to his pocket the handkerchief with which he had been
whipping away the red dust of Poker Flat from his neat
boots, and quietly discharged his mind of any further con
jecture.
In point of fact, Poker Flat was "after somebody." It
had lately suffered the loss of several thousand dollars, two
valuable horses, and a prominent citizen. It was experi
encing a spasm of virtuous reaction, quite as lawless and
ungovernable as any of the acts that had provoked it. A
secret committee had determined to rid the town of all
improper persons. This was done permanently in regard of
two men who were then hanging from the boughs of a syca
more in the gulch, and temporarily in the banishment of
certain other objectionable characters. I regret to say that
some of these were ladies. It is but due to the sex, however,
to state that their impropriety was professional, and it was
only in such easily established standards of evil that Poker
Flat ventured to sit in judgment.
Mr. Oakhurst was right in supposing that he was included
in this category. A few of the committee had urged hang
ing him as a possible example, and a sure method of reim
bursing themselves from his pockets of the sums he had won
from them. " It's agin justice," said Jim Wheeler, " to lei
this yer young man from Roaring Camp — an entire stranger
— carry away our money." But a crude sentiment of equity
residing in the breasts of those who had been fortunate
enough to win from Mr. Oakhurst overruled this narrower
local prejudice.
Mr. Oakhurst received his sentence with philosophic calm
ness, none the less coolly that he was aware of the hesitation
of his judges. He was too much of a gambler not to accept
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 17
Fate, With him life was at best an uncertain game, and he
recognised the usual per-centage in favour of the dealer.
A party of armed men accompanied the deported wicked
ness of Poker Flat to the outskirts of the settlement. Besides
Mr. Oakhurst, who was known to be a coolly desperate man,
and for whose intimidation the armed escort was intended,
the expatriated party consisted of a young woman familiarly
known as " The Dutchess •" another, who had bore the title
of "Mother Shipton ;" and "Uncle Billy," a suspected sluice-
robber and confirmed drunkard. The cavalcade provoked
no comments from the spectators, nor was any word uttered
by the escort. Only when the gulch which marked the
uttermost limit of Poker Flat was reached, the leader spoke
briefly and to the point. The exiles were forbidden to return
at the peril of their lives.
As the escort disappeared, their pent-up feelings found
vent in a few hysterical tears from the Duchess, some bad
language from Mother Shipton, and a Parthian volley of
expletives from Uncle Billy. The philosophic Oakhurst
alone remained silent. He listened calmly to Mother Ship-
ton's desire to cut somebody's heart out, to the repeated
statements of the Duchess that she would die in the road,
and to the alarming oaths that seemed to be bumped out
of Uncle Billy as he rode forward. With the easy good-
humour characteristic of his class, he insisted upon exchanging
his own riding-horse, " Five Spot," for the sorry mule which
the Duchess rode. But even this act did not draw the party
into any closer sympathy. The young woman readjusted her
somewhat draggled plumes with a feeble, faded coquetry;
Mother Shipton eyed the possessor of "Five Spot" with
malevolence ; arid Uncle Billy included the whole party in
one sweeping anathema.
The road to Sandy Bar — a camp that, not having as yet
experienced the regenerating influences of Poker Flat, con
sequently seemed to offer some invitation to the emigrants—
o
13 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
lay over a steep mountain range. It was distant a day's
severe travel. In that advanced season, the party soon
passed out of the moist, temperate regions of the foot-hills
into the dry, cold, bracing air of the Sierras. The trail was
narrow and difficult. At noon the Duchess, rolling out of
her saddle upon the ground, declared her intention of going
no farther, and the party halted.
The spot was singularly wild and impressive. A wooded
amphitheatre, surrounded on three sides by precipitous cliffs
of naked granite, sloped gently towards the crest of another
precipice that overlooked the valley. It was, undoubtedly,
the most suitable spot for a camp, had camping been
advisable. But Mr. Oakhurst knew that scarcely half the
journey to Sandy Bar was accomplished, and the party were
not equipped or provisioned for delay. This fact he pointed
out to his companions curtly, with a philosophic commentary
on the folly of " throwing up their hand before the game
was played out." But they were furnished with liquor,
which in this emergency stood them in place of food, fuel,
rest, and prescience. In spite of his remonstrances, it was
not long before they were more or less under its influence.
Uncle Billy passed rapidly from a bellicose state into one of
stupor, the Duchess became maudlin, and Mother Shipton
snored. Mr. Oakhurst alone remained erect, leaning against
a rock, calmly surveying them.
Mr. Oakhurst did not drink. It interfered with a pro
fession which required coolness, impassiveness, and presence
of mind, and, in his own language, he "couldn't afford it."
As he gazed at his recumbent fellow-exiles, the loneliness
begotten of his pariah-trade, his habits of life, his very vices,
for the first time seriously oppressed him. He bestirred
himself in dusting his black clothes, washing his hands and
face, and other acts characteristic of his studiously neat
habits, and for a moment forgot bis annoyance. The thought
of deserting his weaker and more pitiable companions never
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 19
perhaps occurred to him. Yet he could not help feeling the
want of that excitement which, singularly enough, was ino::t
conducive to that calm equanimity for which he was notori
ous. He looked at the gloomy walls that rose a thousand
feet sheer above the circling pines around him ; at the sky,
ominously clouded \ at the valley below, already deepening
into shadow. And, doing so, suddenly he heard his own
name called.
A horseman slowly ascended the trail. In the fresh,
open face of the new-comer, Mr. Oakhurst recognized Tom
Simson, otherwise known as " The Innocent " of Sandy Bar.
He had met him some months before over a " little game,"
and had, with perfect equanimity, won the entire fortune —
amounting to some forty dollars — of that guileless youth.
After the game was finished, Mr. Oakhurst drew the youth
ful speculator behind the door, and thus addressed him :
" Tommy, you 're a good little man, but you can't gamble
worth a cent. Don't try it over again." He then handed
him his money back, pushed him gently from the room, and
so made a devoted slave of Tom Simson.
There was a remembrance of this in his boyish and enthu
siastic greeting of Mr. Oakhurst. He had started, he said,
to go to Poker Flat to seek his fortune. " Alone ? " No,
not exactly alone ; in fact (a giggle), he had run away with
Piney "Woods. Didn't Mr. Oakhurst remember Piney ?
She that used to wait on the table at the Temperance House 1
They had been engaged a long time, but old Jake Woods had
objected, and so they had run away, and were going to Poker
Flat to be married ; and here they were. And they were
tired out, and how lucky it was they had found a place to
camp and company. All this the Innocent delivered rapidly,
while Piney, a stout, comely damsel of fifteen, emerged from
behind the pine-tree, where she had been blushing unseen,
and rode to the side of her lover.
Mr. Oakhurst seldom troubled himself with sentiment,
02
20 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
still less with propriety ; but he had a vague idea that the
situation was not fortunate. He retained, however, his
presence of mind sufficiently to kick Uncle Billy, who was
about to say something, and Uncle Billy was sober enough
to recognize in Mr. Oakhurst's kick a superior power that
would not bear trifling. He then endeavoured to dissuade
Tom Simson from delaying further, but in vain. He even
pointed out the fact that there was no provision, nor means
of making a camp. But, unluckily, the Innocent met this
objection by assuring the party that he was provided with
an extra mule loaded with provisions, and by the discovery
of a rude attempt at a log-house near the trail. " Piney can
stay with Mrs. Oakhurst," said the Innocent, pointing to the
Duchess, " and I can shift for myself."
Nothing but Mr. Oakhurst's admonishing foot saved Uncle
Billy from bursting into a roar of laughter. As it was, he
felt compelled to retire up the canon until he could recover
his gravity. There he confided the joke to the tall pine-
trees, with many slaps of his leg, contortions of his face, and
the usual profanity. But when he returned to the party, he
found them seated by a fire — for the air had grown strangely
chill, and the sky overcast — in apparently amicable conver
sation. Piney was actually talking in an impulsive, girlish
fashion to the Duchess, who was listening with an interest
and animation she had not shown for many days. The
Innocent was holding forth, apparently with equal effect, to
Mr. Oakhurst and Mother Shipton, who was actually relax
ing into amiability. " Is this yer a d — d pic-iiic ? " said
Uncle Billy, with inward scorn, as he surveyed the sylvan
group, the glancing firelight, and the tethered animals in the
foreground. Suddenly an idea mingled with the alcoholic
fumes that disturbed his brain. It was apparently of a
jocular jiature, for he felt impelled to slap his leg again and
cram his fist into his mouth.
As the shadows crept slowly up £he mountain, a slight
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 21
breeze rocked the tops of the pine-trees, and moaned through
their long and gloomy aisles. The ruined cabin, patched and
covered with pine-boughs, was set apart for the ladies. As
the lovers parted, they unaffectedly exchanged a kiss, so
honest and sincere that it might have been heard above the
swaying pines. The frail Duchess and the malevolent
Mother Shipton were probably too stunned to remark upon
this last evidence of simplicity, and so turned without a word
to the hut. The fire was replenished, the men lay down
before the door, and in a few minutes were asleep.
Mr. Oakhurst was a light sleeper. Toward morning he
awoke benumbed and cold. As he stirred the dying fire, the
wind, which was now blowing strongly, brought to his cheek
that which caused the blood to leave it, — snow !
He started to his feet with the intention of awakening the
sleepers, for there was no time to lose. But turning to where
Uncle Billy had been lying, he found him gone. A suspicion
leaped to his brain and a curse to his lips. He ran to the spot
where the mules had been tethered; they were no longer there.
The tracks were already rapidly disappearing in the snow.
The momentary excitement brought Mr. Oakhurst back to
the fire with his usual calm. He did not waken the sleepers.
The Innocent slumbered peacefully, with a smile on his
good-humoured, freckled face ; the virgin Piney slept beside
her frailer sisters as sweetly as though attended by celestial
guardians, and Mr. Oakhurst, drawing his blanket over his
shoulders, stroked his mustaches and waited for the dawn.
It came slowly in a whirling mist of snow-flakes, that dazzled
and confused the eye. "What could be seen of the landscape
appeared magically changed. He looked over the valley,
and summed up the present and future in two words —
" snowed in ! "
A careful inventory of the provisions, which, fortunately
for the party, had been stored within the hut, and so escaped
the felonious fingers of Uncle Billy, disclosed the fact that
22 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
\vitli care and prudence they might last ten days longer.
" That is," said Mr. Oakhurst, sotto voce to the Innocent, " if
you're willing to board us. If you ain't — and perhaps you 'd
better not — you can wait till Uncle Billy gets back with
provisions." For some occult reason Mr. Oakhurst could
not bring himself to disclose Uncle Billy's rascality, and so
offered the hypothesis that he had wandered from the camp
and hact accidentally stampeded the animals. He dropped a
warning to the Duchess and Mother Shipton, who of course
knew the facts of their associate's defection. " They'll find out
the truth about us all when they find out anything," he added,
significantly, "and there's no good frightening them now."
Tom Simson not only put all his worldly store at the
disposal of Mr. Oakhurst, but seemed to enjoy the prospect
of their enforced seclusion. "We'll have a good camp for a
week, and then the sriow'll melt, and we'll all go back
together." The cheerful gaiety of the young man, and Mr.
Oakhurst's calm infected the others. The Innocent, with
the aid of pine-boughs, extemporized a thatch for the roofless
cabin, and the Duchess directed Piney in the rearrangement
of the interior with a taste and tact that opened the blue
eyes of that provincial maiden to their fullest extent. " I
reckon now you're used to fine things at Poker Flat," said
Piney. The Duchess turned away sharply to conceal some
thing that reddened her cheeks through its professional tint,
and Mother Shipton requested Piney not to " chatter." But
when Mr. Oakhurst returned from a weary search for the
trail, he heard the sound of happy laughter echoed from the
rocks. He stopped in some alarm, and his thoughts first
naturally reverted to the whiskey, which he had prudently
cached. " And yet it don't somehow sound like whiskey,51
said the gambler. It was not until he caught sight of the
blazing fire through the still blinding storm and the group
around it, that he settled to the conviction that it was
" square ftm."
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 23
Whether Mr. Oakhurst had cached his cards with the
whiskey as something debarred the free access of the com
munity, I cannot say. It was certain that, in Mother
Shipton's words, he " didn't say cards once " during that
evening. Haply the time was beguiled by an accordion,
produced somewhat ostentatiously by Tom Simson from his
pack. Notwithstanding some difficulties attending the mani
pulation of this instrument, Piney Woods managed to pluck
several reluctant melodies from its keys, to an accompani
ment by the Innocent on a pair of bone castinets. But the
crowning festivity of the evening was reached in a rude
camp-meeting hymn, which the lovers, joining hands, sang
with great earnestness and vociferation. I fear that a
certain defiant tone and Covenanter's swing to its chorus,
rather than any devotional quality, caused it speedily to
infect the others, who at last joined in the refrain : —
" I'm proud to live in the service of the Lord,
And I'm bound to die in His army."
The pines rocked, the storm eddied and whirled above the
miserable group, and the flames of their altar leaped heaven
ward, as if in token of the vow.
At midnight the storm abated, the rolling clouds parted,
and the stars glittered keenly above the sleeping camp.
Mr. Oakhurst, whose professional habits had enabled him tC
live on the smallest possible amount of sleep, in dividing the
watch with Tom Sim son, somehow managed to take upon
himself the greater part of that duty. He excused himself
to the Innocent by saying that he had " often been a week
without sleep." "Doing what?" asked Tom. "Poker!"
replied Oakhurst, sententiously ; " when a man gets a streak
of luck — nigger-luck — he don't get tired. The luck gives in
first. LUCK/' continued the gambler, reflectively, "is a
mighty queer thing. All you know about it for certain is
that it's bound to change And it's finding out when it's
24 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER
going to change that makes you. We've had a streak of
bad luck since we left Poker Flat — you come along, and slap
you get into it, too. If you can hold your cards right along
you're all right For," added the gambler, with cheerful
irrelevance —
" ' I'm proud to live in the service of the Lord,
And I'm bound to die in His army.' "
The third day came, and the sun, looking through the
white-curtained valley, saw the outcasts divide their slowly
decreasing store of provisions for the morning meal. It was
one of the peculiarities of that mountain climate that its rays
diffused a kindly warmth over the wintry landscape, as if in
regretful commiseration of the past. But it revealed drift
on drift of snow piled high around the hut — a hopeless, un-
chartered, trackless sea of white lying below the rocky shores
to which the castaways still clung. Through the mar
vellously clear air the smoke of the pastoral village of Poker
Flat rose miles away. Mother Shipton saw it, and from a
remote pinnacle of her rocky fastness, hurled in that direc
tion a final malediction. It was her last vituperative attempt,
and perhaps for that reason was invested with a certain
degree of sublimity. It did her good, she privately informed
the Duchess. " Just you go out there and cuss, and see."
She then set herself to the task of amusing " the child," as
she and the Duchess were pleased to call Piney. Piney was
no chicken, but it was a soothing and original theory of the
pair thus to account for the fact that she didn't swear and
wasn't improper.
When night crept up again through the gorges, the reedy
notes of the accordion rose and fell in fitful spasms and long,
drawn gasps by the flickering camp-fire. But music failed
to fill entirely the aching void left by insufficient food, and a
new diversion was proposed by Piney — story-telling. Neither
Mr. Oakhurst nor his female companions caring to relate
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 25
their personal experiences, this plan would have failed, too,
but for the Innocent. Some months before he had chanced
upon a stray copy of Mr. Pope's ingenious translation of the
Iliad. He now proposed to narrate the principal incidents
of that poem — having thoroughly mastered the argument
and fairly forgotten the words — in the current vernacular of
Sandy Bar. And so for the rest of that night the Homeric
demigods again walked the earth. Trojan bully and wily
Greek wrestled in the winds, and the great pines in the canon
seemed to bow to the wrath of the son of Peleus. Mr. Oak-
hurst listened with quiet satisfaction. Most especially was
he interested in the fate of " Ash-heels," as the Innocent
persisted in denominating the " swift-footed Achilles."
So with small food and much of Homer and the accordion,
a week passed over the heads of the outcasts. The sun again
forsook them, and again from leaden skies the snow-flakes
were sifted over the land. Day by day closer around them
drew the snowy circle, until at last they looked from their
prison over drifted walls of drizzling white, that towered
twenty feet above their heads. It became more and more
difficult to replenish their fires, even from the fallen trees
beside them, now half hidden in the drifts. And yet no one
complained. The lovers turned from the dreary prospect,
and looked into each other's eyes, and were happy. Mr.
Oakhurst settled himsef coolly to the losing game before
him. The Duchess, more cheerful than she had been,
assumed the care of Piney. Only Mother Shipton — once
the strongest of the party — seemed to sicken and fade. At
midnight 011 the tenth day she called Oakhurst to her side.
"I'm going," she said, in a voice of querulous weakness,
" but don't say anything about it. Don't waken the kids.
Take the bundle from under my head and open it." Mr.
Oakhurst did so. It contained Mother Shipton's rations for
the last week, untouched. " Give 'em to the child," she said,
pointing to the sleeping Piney. " You've starved yourself,"
26 THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT.
said the gambler. " That's what they call it," said the
woman, querulously, as she lay down again, and, turning
her face to the wall, passed quietly away.
The accordion and the bones were put aside that day, and
Homer was forgotten. When the body of Mother Shipton
had been committed to the snow, Mr. Oakhurst took the
Innocent aside, and showed him a pair of snow-shoes, which
ho had fashioned from the old pack-saddle. " There's one
chance in a hundred to save her yet," he said, pointing to
Piney; "but it's there," he added, pointing toward Poker
Flat. "If you can reach there in two days she's safe."
"And you?" asked Tom Simson. "I'll stay here," was
the curt reply.
The lovers parted with a long embrace. " You are not
going, too?" said the Duchess, as she saw Mr. Oakhurst
apparently waiting to accompany him. " As far as the
canon," he replied. He turned suddenly, and kissed the
Duchess, leaving her pallid face aflame, and her trembling
limbs rigid with amazement.
Night came, but not Mr. Oakhurst. It brought the
storm again and the whirling snow. Then the Duchess,
feeding the fire, found that some one had quietly piled beside
the hut enough fuel to last a few days longer. The tears
rose to her eyes, but she hid them from Piney.
The women slept but little. In the morning, looking
into each other's faces, they read their fate. Neither spoke j
but Piney, accepting the position of the stronger, drew near
and placed her arm around the Duchess's waist. They kept
this attitude for the rest of the day. That night the storm
reached its greatest fury, and, rending asunder the pro
tecting pines, invaded the very hut.
Toward morning they found themselves unable to feed the
fire, which gradually died away. As the embers slowly
blackened, the Duchess crept closer to Piney, and broke the
silence of many hours: "Piney, can you pray?" "No,
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT. 27
dear," said Piney, simply. The Duchess, without knowing
exactly why, felt relieved, and, putting her head upon Piney's
shoulder, spoke no more. And so reclining, the younger
and purer pillowing the head of her soiled sister iipon her
virgin breast, they fell asleep.
The wind lulled as if it feared to waken them. Feathery
drifts of snow, shaken from the long pine-boughs, flew like
white- winged birds, and settled about them as they slept.
The moon through the rifted clouds looked down upon what
had been the camp. But all human stain, all trace of earthly
travail, was hidden beneath the spotless mantle mercifully
flung from above.
They slept all that day and the next, nor did they waken
when voices and footsteps broke the silence of the camp.
And when pitying fingers brushed the snow from their wan
faces, you could scarcely have told, from the equal peace that
dwelt upon them, which was she that had sinned. Even
the law of Poker Flat recognized this, and turned away,
leaving them still locked in each other's arms.
But at the head of the gulch, on one of the largest pine*
trees, they found the deuce of clubs pinned to the bark with
a bowie-knife. It bore the following, written in pencil, in a
firm hand : —
t
BENEATH THIS TREE
LIES THE BODY
OF
JOHN OAKHURST,
WHO STRUCK A STREAK OF BAD LUCK
ON THE 23 RD OF NOVEMBER. 1850,
AND
HANDED IN HIS CHECKS
ON THE 7TH DECEMBER, 1850.
4
And pulseless and cold, with a Derringer by his side and a
bullet in his heart, though still calm as in life, beneath the
snow lay he who was at once the strongest and yet the
weakest of the outcasts of Poker Flat.
28 MIGGLES.
HIGGLES.
"\irE were eight, including the driver. We had not
spoken during the passage of the last six miles, since
the jolting of the heavy vehicle over the roughening road had
spoiled the Judge's last poetical quotation. The tall man
beside the Judge was asleep, his arm passed through the
swaying strap and his head resting upon it — altogether a limp,
helpless-looking object, as if he had hanged himself and been
cut down too late. The French lady on the back seat was
asleep, too, yet in a half-conscious propriety of attitude,
shown even in the disposition of the handkerchief which she
held to her forehead, and which partially veiled her face.
The lady from Virginia City, travelling with her husband,
had long since lost all individuality in a wild confusion of
ribbons, veils, furs, and shawls. There was no sound but the
rattling of wheels and the dash of rain upon the roof. Sud
denly the stage stopped, and we became dimly aware of
voices. The driver was evidently in the midst of an ex
citing colloquy with some one in the road — a colloquy of
which such fragments as " bridge gone," " twenty feet of
water," " can't pass," were occasionally distinguishable above
the storm. Then came a lull, and a mysterious voice from
the road shouted the parting adjuration, —
" Try Miggles's."
We caught a glimpse of our leaders as the vehicle slowly
turned, of a horseman vanishing through the rain, and we
were evidently on our way to Miggles's.
Who and where was Higgles 1 The Judge, our autho
rity, did not remember the name, and he knew the country
thoroughly. The Washoe traveller thought Higgles must
keep a hotel. We only knew that we were stopped by high
water in front and rear, and that Higgles was our rock of
refuge. A ten minutes' splashing through a tangled by-
HIGGLES. 2$
road, scarcely wide enough for the stage, and we drew up
before a barred and boarded gate in a wide stone wall or
fence about eight feet high. Evidently Higgles's, and evi
dently Higgles did not keep a hotel.
The driver got down and tried the gate. It was securely
locked.
" Higgles ! 0 Higgles !"
No answer.
" Higg-ells ! You Higgles !" continued the driver, with
rising wrath.
" Higglesy ! " joined in the expressman, persuasively.
"OHiggy! Mig!"
But no reply came from, the apparently insensate Higgles.
The Judge, who had finally got the window down, put his
head out and propounded a series of questions, which if
answered categorically would have undoubtedly elucidated
the whole mystery, but which the driver evaded by replying
that " if we didn't want to sit in the coach all night, we had
better rise up and sing out for Higgles."
So we rose up and called on Higgles in chorus ; then
separately. And when we had finished, a Hibernian fellow-
passenger from the roof called for "Haygells !" whereat we
all laughed. While we were laughing, the driver cried
"Shoo!"
We listened. To our infinite amazement the chorus of
"Higgles" was repeated from the other side of the wall,
even to the final and supplemental " Haygells."
" Extraordinary echo," said the Judge.
"Extraordinary d — d skunk!" roared the driver, con
temptuously. " Come out of that, Higgles, and show your
self ! Be a man, Higgles ! Don't hide in the dark j I
wouldn't if I were you, Higgles," continued Yuba Bill, now
dancing about in an excess of fury.
" Higgles ! " continued the voice, " O Higgles ! n
"My good man ! Mr. Hyghail !" said the Judge, soften-
30 HIGGLES
ing the asperities of the name as mucli as possible. "Con
sider the iuhospitality of refusing shelter from the incle
mency of the weather to helpless females. Really, my dear
sir " But a succession of " Higgles," ending in a
burst of laughter, drowned his voice.
Yuba Bill hesitated no longer. Taking a heavy stone
from the road, he battered down the gate, and with the
expressman entered the enclosure. We followed. Nobody
was to be seen. In the gathering darkness all that we
could distinguish was that we were in a garden — from the
rosebushes that scattered over us a minute spray from
their dripping leaves — and before a long, rambling wooden
building.
" Do you know this Higgles ?" asked the Judge of Yuba
Bill.
" No, nor don't want to," said Bill, shortly, who felt the
Pioneer Stage Company insulted in his person by the contu
macious Higgles.
" But, my dear sir," expostulated the Judge, as he thought
of the barred gate.
" Lookee here," said Yuba Bill, with fine irony, " hadn't
you better go back and sit in the coach till yer intro
duced 1 I 'm going in," and he pushed open the door of the
building.
A long room lighted only by the embers of a fire that
was dying on the large hearth at its further extremity i
the walls curiously papered, and the flickering firelight
bringing out its grotesque pattern j somebody sitting in a
large arm-chair by the fireplace. All this we saw as we
crowded together into the room after the driver and ex
pressman.
" Hello, be you Higgles T' said Yuba Bill to the solitary
occupant.
The figure neither spoke nor stirred. Yuba Bill walked
wrathfully toward it, and turned the eye of his coach-lantern
HIGGLES. 31
upon its face. It was a man's face, prematurely old and
wrinkled, with very large eyes, in which there was that
expression of perfectly gratuitous solemnity which I had
sometimes seen in an owl's. The large eyes wandered from
Bill's face to the lantern, and finally fixed their gaze on
that luminous object, without further recognition.
Bill restrained himself with an effort.
" Miggles ! Be you deaf? You ain't dumb anyhow,
you know ; " and Yuba Bill shook the insensate figure by
the shoulder.
To our great dismay, as Bill removed his hand, the vene
rable stranger apparently collapsed, — sinking into half his
size and an undistinguishable heap of clothing.
" Well, dern my skin," said Bill, looking appealingly at
us, and hopelessly retiring from the contest.
The Judge now stepped forward, and we lifted the myste
rious invertebrate back into his original position. Bill was
dismissed with the lantern to reconnoitre outside, for it was
evident that from the helplessness of this solitary man there
must be attendants near at hand, and we all drew around the
fire. The Judge, who had regained his authority, and had
never lost his conversational amiability, standing before us
with his back to the hearth, — charged us, as an imaginary
jury, as follows : —
" It is evident that either our distinguished friend here
has reached that condition described by Shakespeare as ' the
sere and yellow leaf,' or has suffered some premature abate
ment of his mental and physical faculties. Whether he is
really the Miggles "
Here he was interrupted by " Miggles ! O Miggies
Migglesy ! Mig ! " and, in fact, the whole chorus of Miggles
in very much the same key as it had once before been
delivered unto us.
We gazed at each other for a moment in some alarm.
The Judge, in particular, vacated his position quickly, aa
31 MfGGLES.
the voice seemed to come directly over his shoulder. The
cause, however, was soon discovered in a large magpie who
was perched upon a shelf over the fireplace, and who im
mediately relapsed into a sepulchral silence, which contrasted
singularly with his previous volubility. It was, undoubtedly,
his voice which sve had heard in the road, and our friend in
the chair was not responsible for the discourtesy. Yuba
Bill, who re-entered the room after an unsuccessful search,
was loath to accept the explanation, and still eyed the help
less sitter with suspicion. He had found a shed in which
he had put up his horses, but he came back dripping
and sceptical. " Thar ain't nobody but him within ten
mile of the shanty, and that 'ar d — d old skeesicks knows
it."
But the faith of the majority proved to be securely based.
Bill had scarcely ceased growling before we heard a quick
step upon the porch, the trailing of a wet skirt ; the door
was flung open, and, with a flash of white teeth, a sparkle of
dark eyes, and an utter absence of ceremony or diffidence,
a young woman entered, shut the door, and, panting, leaned
back against it.
" Oh, if you please, I'm Higgles !"
And this was Miggles ! this bright- eyed, full-throated
young woman, whose wet gown of coarse blue stuff could
not hide the beauty of the feminine curves to which it clung;
from the chestnut crown of whose head, topped by a man's
oil-skin sou'wester, to the little feet and ankles, hidden
somewhere in the recesses of her boy's brogans, all was
grace ; — this was Miggles, laughing at us, too, in the most
airy, frank, off-hand manner imaginable.
" You see, boys," said she, quite out of breath, and hold
ing one little hand against her side, quite unheeding tho
speechless discomfiture of our party, or the complete demo
ralization of Yuba Bill, whose features had relaxed into an
expression of gratuitous and imbecile cheerfulness, — "you
HIGGLES. 53
«ee, boys, I was mcr'n two miles away when you passed
down the road. I thought you might pull up here, and so
I ran the whole way, knowing nobody was home but Jim,— *
and — and — I 'ni out of breath — and — that lets me out."
And here Higgles caught her dripping oil-skin hat from
her head, with a mischievous swirl that scattered a shower
of rain-drops over us ; attempted to put back her hair ;
dropped two hair-pins in the attempt ; laughed and sat
down beside Yuba Bill, with her hands crossed lightly on
her lap.
The Judge recovered himself first, and essayed an extra
vagant compliment.
"I'll trouble you for that thar har-pin," said Higgles,
gravely. Half a dozen hands were eagerly stretched for
ward ; the missing hair-pain was restored to its fair owner ;
and Higgles, crossing the room, looked keenly in the face of
the invalid. The solemn eyes looked back at hers with an
expression we had never seen before. Life and intelligence
seemed to struggle back into the rugged face. Higgles
laughed again, — it was a singularly eloquent laugh, — and
turned her black eyes and white teeth once more towards us.
" This afflicted person is " hesitated the Judge.
" Jim," said Higgles.
"Your father?"
"No."
« Brother?'
« No."
"Husband?"
Higgles darted a quick, half-defiant glance at the two
lady passengers who I had noticed did not participate in the
general masculine admiration of Higgles, and said, gravely,
"No; it's Jim/'
There was an awkward pause. The lady passengers moved
closer to each other ; the Washoe husband looked abstract
edly at the fire ; and the tall man apparently turned his
9
3.4 MIGGLES.
eyes inward for self-support at this emergency. But Migglcs's
laugh, which was very infectious, broke the silence. " Come,"
she said, briskly, "you must be hungry. Who'll bear a
hand to help me to get tea V*
She had no lack of volunteers. In a few moments Yuba
Bill was engaged like Caliban in bearing logs for this Mi
randa ; the expressman was grinding coffee on the verandah;
to myself the arduous duty of slicing bacon was assigned ;
and the Judge lent each man his good-humoured and voluble
counsel. And when Higgles, assisted by the Judge and our
Hibernian " deck passenger," set the table with all the avail
able crockery, we had become quite joyous, in spite of the
rain that beat against windows, the wind that whirled down
the chimney, the two ladies who whispered together in the
corner, or the magpie who uttered a satirical and croaking
commentary on their conversation from his perch above. In
the now bright, blazing fire, we could see that the walls
were papered with illustrated journals, arranged with femi
nine taste and discrimination. The furniture was extempo
rized, and adapted from candle-boxes and packing-cases, and
covered with gay calico, or the skin of some animal. The
arm-chair of the helpless Jim was an ingenious variation of
a flour-barrel. There was neatness, and even a taste for the
picturesque, to be seen in the few details of the long low
room.
The meal was a culinary success. But more, it was a
social triumph, — chiefly, I think, owing to the rare tact of
Miggles in guiding the conversation, asking all the questions
herself, yet bearing throughout a frankness that rejected the
idea of any concealment on her own part, so that we talked
of ourselves, of our prospects, of the journey, of the weather,
of each other, — of everything but our host and hostess. It
must be confessed that Miggles's conversation was never
elegant, rarely grammatical, and that at times she employed
expletives^ the use of which had generally been yielded to
MIGGLES. 35
our sex. But they were delivered with such a lighting up
of teeth and eyes, and were usually followed by a laugh—
a laugh peculiar to Higgles— so frank and honest that it
seemed to clear the moral atmosphere.
Once, during the meal, we heard a noise like the rubbing
of a heavy body against the outer walls of the house. This
was shortly followed by a scratching and sniffling at the
door. " That 's Joaquin," said Higgles, in reply to our
questioning glances ; " would you like to see him ?" Before
we could answer she had opened the door, and disclosed a
half-grown grizzly, who instantly raised himself on his
haunches, with his forepaws hanging down in the popular
attitude of mendicancy, and looked admiringly at Higgles.
with a very singular resemblance in his manner to Yuba
Bill. " That 's my watch-dog," said Higgles, in explanation,
" Oh, ho don't bite," she added, as the two lady passengers
fluttered into a corner. " Does he, old Toppy ?" (the latter
remark being addressed directly to the sagacious Joaquin).
" I tell you what, boys," continued Higgles, after she had
fed and closed the door on Ursa Minor, " you were in big
luck that Joaquin wasn't hanging round when you dropped
in to-night." " Where was he ] " asked the Judge. " With
me," said Higgles. " Lord love you ; he trots round with
me nights like as if he was a man."
We were silent for a few moments, and listened to the
wind. Perhaps we all had the same picture before us, — of
Higgles walking through the rainy woods, with her savage
guardian at her side. The Judge, I remember, said some
thing about Una and her lion ; but Higgles received it as
she did other compliments, with quiet gravity. Whether
she was altogether unconscious of the admiration she ex
cited — she could hardly have been oblivious of Yuba Bill's
adoration — I know not ; but her very frankness suggested a
perfect sexual equality that was cruelly humiliating to th«
younger members of our party.
D 2
36 MIGGLES.
The incident of the bear did not add anything in Miggles'a
favour to the opinions of those of her own sex who were
present. In fact, the repast over, a dullness radiated from
the two lady passengers that no pine-boughs brought in by
Yuba Bill and cast as a sacrifice upon the hearth could
wholly overcome. Higgles felt it ; and, suddenly declaring
that it was time to " turn in," offered to show the ladies to
their bed in an adjoining room. " You, boys, will have to
camp out here by the fire as well as you can," she added,
''for thar ain't but the one room."
Our sex — by which, my dear sir, I allude of course to the
stronger portion of humanity — has been generally relieved
from the imputation of curiosity, or a fondness for gossip.
Yet I am constrained to say, that hardly had the door closed
on Higgles than we crowded together, whispering, snicker
ing, smiling, and exchanging suspicions, surmises, and a
thousand speculations in regard to our pretty hostess and
her singular companion. I fear that we even hustled that
imbecile paralytic, who sat like a voiceless Hemnon in our
midst, gazing with the serene indifference of the Past in his
passionless eyes upon our wordy counsels. In the midst of
an exciting discussion the door opened again and Higgles
re-entered.
But not, apparently, the same Higgles who a few hours
before had flashed upon us. Her eyes were downcast, and
as she hesitated for a moment on the threshold, with a
blanket on her arm, she seemed to have left behind her the
frank fearlessness which had charmed us a moment before.
Coming into the room, she drew a low stool beside the para
lytic's chair, sat down, drew the blanket over her shoulders,
and saying, " If it's all the same to you, boys, as we're rather
crowded, 111 stop here to-night/' took the invalid's withered
hand in her own, and turned her eyes upon the dying fire
An instinctive feeling that this was only premonitory to
more confidential relations, and perhaps some shame at our
HIGGLES. 37
previous curiosity kept us silent. The rain still beat upon
the roof, wandering gusts of wind stirred the embers into mo
mentary brightness, until, in a lull of the elements, Higgles
suddenly lifted up her head, and throwing her hair over her
shoulder, turned her face upon the group and asked, —
" Is there any of you that knows me % "
There was no reply.
"Think again ! I lived at Marysville in '53. Everybody
knew me there, and everybody had the right to know me.
I kept the Polka Saloon until I came to live with Jim.
That's six years ago. Perhaps I've changed some."
The absence of recognition may have disconcerted her.
She turned her head to the fire again, and it was some
seconds before she again spoko, and then more rapidly, —
" Well, you see, I thought some of you must have known
me. There's no great harm done, anyway. What I was
going to say was this : Jim here " — she took his hand in
both of hers as she spoke — " used to know me, if you didn't,
and spent a heap of money upon me. I reckon he spent all
he had. And one day — it's six years ago this winter — Jim
came into my back room, sat down on my sofy, like as you
see him in that chair, and never moved again without help.
He was struck all of a heap, and never seemed to know
what ailed him. The doctors came and said as how it was
caused all along of his way of life — for Jim was mighty free
and wild like — and that he would never get better, and
couldn't last long anyway. They advised me to send him
to Frisco, to the hospital, for he was no good to any one
and would be a baby all his life. Perhaps it was some
thing in Jim's eye, perhaps it was that I never had a baby,
but I said * No.' I was rich then, for I was popular with
everybody — gentlemen like yourself, sir, came to see nie —
aad I sold out my business and bought this yer place, be
cause it was sort of out of the way of travel, you see, and I
brought my baby here."
38 MIGGLES
With a woman's intuitive tact and poetry, she had, as
she spoke, slowly shifted her position so as to bring the
route figure of the ruined man between her and her audience,
hiding in the shadow behind it, as if she offered it as a tacit
apology for her actions. Silent and expressionless, it yet
spoke for her ; helpless, crushed, and smitten with the
Divine thunderbolt, it still stretched an invisible arm around
her.
Hidden in the darkness, but still holding his hand, she
went on, —
" It was a long time before I could get the hang of things
about yer, for I was used to company and excitement. I
couldn't get any woman to help me, and a man I dursent
trust ; but what with the Indians hereabout, who'd do odd
jobs for me, and having everything sent from the North
Fork, Jim and I managed to worry through. The Doctor
would run up from Sacramento once in a while. He'd ask
to see ' Miggles's baby,' as he called Jim, and when he'd go
away, he'd say, ( Higgles, you're a trump, God bless you ! '
and it didn't seem so lonely after that. But the last time
he was here he said, as he opened the door to go, ' Do you
know, Higgles, your baby will grow up to be a man yet and
an honour to his mother ; but not here, Higgles, not here ! '
And I thought he went away sad — and — and — " and here
Higgles's voice and head were somehow both lost completely
in the shadow.
" The folks about here are very kind," said Higgles, after
a pause, coming a little into the light again. " The men
from the fork used to hang around here, until they found
they wasn't wanted, and the women are kind — and don't
call. I was pretty lonely until I picked up Joaquin in the
woods yonder one day, when he wasn't so high, and taught
him to beg for his dinner ; and then thar's Polly — that's the
magpie — she knows no end of tricks, and makos it quite
Bociable of evenings with her talk, and so I don't feel like
HIGGLES. 39
as I was the only living being about the ranch. And Jim
here," said Higgles, with her old laugh again, and coming
out quite into the firelight, " Jim — why, boys, you would
admire to see how much, he knows for a man like him.
Sometimes I bring him flowers, and he looks at 'em just as
natural as if he knew 'em • and times, when we're sitting
alone, I read him those things on the wall. Why, Lord!"
said Higgles, with her frank laugh, "I've read him that
whole side of the house this winter. There never was such
a man for reading as Jim."
" Why," asked the Judge, " do you not marry this man
to whom you have devoted your youthful life 1 "
tf Well, you see," said Higgles, "it would be playing it
rather low down on Jim, to take advantage of his being so
helpless. And then, too, if we were man and wife, now,
we'd both know that I was bound to do what I do now of
my own accord."
" But you are young yet and attractive "
"It's getting late,' said Higgles, gravely, "and you'd
1>etter all turn in. Good-night, boys ;" and, throwing the
blanket over her head, Higgles laid herself down beside
Jim's chair, her head pillowed on the low stool that. held
his feet, and spoke no more. The fire slowly faded from
the hearth ; we each sought our blankets in silence ; and
presently there was no sound in the long room but the pat
tering of the rain upon the roof, and the heavy breathing of
the sleepers.
It was nearly morning when I awoke from a troubled
dream. The storm had passed, the stars were shining, and
through the shutterless window the full moon, lifting itself
over the solemn pines without, looked into the room. It
touched the lonely figure in the chair with an infinite com
passion, and seemed to baptize with a shining flood the
lowly head of the woman whose hair, as in the sweet old
story, bathed the feet of him she loved. It even lent a
40 HIGGLES.
kindly poetry to the rugged outline of Yuba Bill, half re*
dining on his elbow between them and his passengers, with
savagely patient eyes keeping watch and ward. And then
I fell asleep and only woke at broad day, with Yuba Bill
standing over me, and " All aboard " ringing in my ears.
Coffee was waiting for us on the table, but Miggles was
gone. We wandered about the house and lingered long after
the horses were harnessed, but she did not return. It was
evident that she wished to avoid a formal leave-taking, and
had so left us to depart as we had come. After we had
helped the ladies into the coach, we returned to the house
rind solemnly shook hands with the paralytic Jim, as so
lemnly settling him back into position after each hand
shake. Then we looked for the last time around the long
low room, at the stool where Miggles had sat, and slowly
took our seats in the waiting coach. The whip cracked,
and we were off !
But as we reached the high-road, Bill's dexterous hand
laid the six horses back on their haunches, and the stage
stopped with a jerk. For there, on a little eminence beside
the road, stood Miggles, her hair flying, her eyes sparkling,
her white handkerchief waving, and her white teeth flashing
a last "good-by." We waved our hats in return. And
then Yuba Bill, as if fearful of further fascination, madly
lashed his horses forward, and we sank back in our seats.
We exchanged not a word until we reached the North Fork
and the stage drew up at the Independence House. Then,
the Judge leading, we walked into the bar-room and took
our places gravely at the bar.
" Are your glasses charged, gentlemen ? " said the Judgn,
solemnly taking off his white hat.
They were.
" Well, then, here's to Miggles, GOD BLESS HEB 1 n
Perhaps He had. Who knows \
JJ£NN£SS£E'S PARTNER.
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
T DO not think that we ever knew his real name. Our
ignorance of it certainly never gave us any social
inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in 1854 most men were
christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives were derived
from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of
" Dungaree Jack ; " or from some peculiarity of habit, as
shown in "Saleratus Bill," so called from an undue
proportion of that chemical in his daily bread ; or from
some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a
mild, inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his
unfortunate mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites."
Perhaps this may have been the beginning of a rude heraldry j
but I am constrained to think that it was because a man's
real name in that day rested solely upon his own unsupported
statement. " Call yourself Clifford, do you % " said Boston,
addressing a timid new-comer with infinite scorn ; " hell is
full of such Cliffords ! " He then introduced the unfor
tunate man, whose name happened to be really Clifford, as
"Jay-bird Charley," — an unhallowed inspiration of the
moment, that clung to him ever after.
But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never
knew by any other than this relative title ; that he had
ever existed as a separate and distinct individuality we only
learned later. It seems that in 1853 he left Poker Flat to
go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. He never
got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was at
tracted by a young person who waited upon the table at the
hotel where he took his meals. One morning he said some
thing to her which caused her to smile not unkindly, to
somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over his up
turned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen.
He followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered
42 TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
with more toast and victory. That day week they were
married by a Justice of the Peace, and returned to Poker
Flat. I am aware that something more might be made of
this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy
Bar — in the gulches and bar rooms — where all sentimert
was modified by a strong sense of humour.
Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for
the reason that Tennessee, then living with his partner, one
day took occasion to say something to the bride on his own
account, at which, it is said, she smiled not unkindly and
chastely retreated, — this time as far as Marysville, where
Tennessee followed her, and where they went to housekeep
ing without the aid of a Justice of the Peace. Tennessee's
Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was
his fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee
one day returned from Marysville, without his partner's
wife, — she having smiled and retreated with somebody else,
— Tennessee's Partner was the first man to shake his hand
and greet him with affection. The boys who had gathered
in the canon to see the shooting were naturally indignant.
Their indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for
a certain look in Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a
lack of humourous appreciation. In fact, he was a grave
man, with a steady application to practical detail which was
unpleasant in a difficulty.
Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown
up on the Bar. He was known to be a gambler ; he was
suspected to be a thief. In these suspicions Tennessee's
Partner was equally compromised ; his continued intimacy
with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only
be accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of
crime. At last Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day
he overtook a stranger on his way to Red Dog. The
stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiled the time
with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogically
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER. 43
concluded the interview in the following words : " And now,
young man, I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and
your money. You see your weppings might get you into
trouble at Eed Dog, and your money's a temptation to the
evilly disposed. I think you said your address was San
Francisco. I shall endeavour to call." It may be stated here
that Tennessee had a fine flow of humour, which no busi
ness preoccupation could wholly subdue.
This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made
common cause against the highwayman. Tennessee was
hunted in very much the same fashion as his prototype, the
grizzly. As the toils closed around him, he made a despe
rate dash, through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the
crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Canon ;
but at its farther extremity he was stopped by a small man
on a gray horse. The men looked at each other a moment
in silence. Both were fearless, both self-possessed and inde
pendent ; and both types of a civilization that in the seven
teenth century would have been called heroic, but, in the
nineteenth, simply " reckless." " What have you got there?
— I call," said Tennessee, quietly. " Two bowers and an
ace," said the stranger, as quietly, showing two revolvers
and a bowie knife. " That takes me," returned Tennessee ;
and with this gambler's epigram, he threw away his useless
pistol, and rode back with his captor.
It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually
sprang up with the going down of the sun behind the clia~
parral-crested mountain was that evening withheld from
Sandy Bar. The little caiion was stifling with heated resinous
odours, and the decaying drift-wood on the Bar sent forth
faint, sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day, and
its fierce passions, still filled the camp. Lights moved rest
lessly along the bank of the river, striking no answering re
flection from its tawny current. Against the blackness of
44 TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
the pines the windows of the old loft above the express-
office stood out staringly bright ; and through their curtain-
less panes the loungers below could see the forms of those
who were even then deciding the fate of Tennessee. And
above all this, etched on the dark firmament, rose the Sierra,
remote and passionless, crowned with remoter passionless
stars.
The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was con
sistent with a judge and jury who felt themselves to some
extent obliged to justify, in their verdict, the previous ir
regularities of arrest and indictment. The law of Sandy
Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and
personal feeling of the chase we?e over ; with Tennessee safe
in their hands they were ready to listen patiently to any
defence, which they were already satisfied was insufficient.
There being no doubt in their own minds, they were willing
to give the prisoner the benefit of any that might exist.
Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged, on
general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of
defence than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The
Judge appeared to be more anxious than the prisoner, who,
otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a grim pleasure in the
responsibility he had created. " I don't take any hand in this
yer game," had been his invariable, but good-humoured reply
to all questions. The Judge — who was also his captor — for a
moment vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on
sight," that morning, but presently dismissed this human
weakness as unworthy of the judicial mind. Nevertheless,
when there was a tap at the door, and it was said that Ten
nessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was
admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger
members of the jury, to whom the proceedings were be
coming irksomely thoughtful, hailed him as a relief.
For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short and
stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternaturcil
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER. 45
redness, clad in a loose duck "jumper," and trousers
stieaked and splashed with red soil, his aspect under any
circumstances would have been quaint, and was now even
ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy
carpet-bag he was carrying, it became obvious, from
partially developed regions and inscriptions, that the ma
terial with which his trousers had been patched had been
originally intended for a less ambitious covering. Yet he
advanced with great gravity, and after having shaken the
hand of each person in the room with laboured cordiality,
he wiped his serious, perplexed face on a red bandanna hand
kerchief, a shade lighter than his complexion, laid his
powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and thus
addressed the Judge : —
" I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, " and 1
thought I'd just step in and see how things was gittin'
on with Tennessee thar — my pardner. It's a hot night. I
disremember any sich weather before on the Bar."
He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other
meteorological recollection, he again had recourse to his
pocket-handkerchief, and for some moments mopped his
face diligently.
" Have you anything to say in behalf of the prisoner 1 "
said the Judge, finally.
"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief.
" I come yar as Tennessee's pardner — knowing him nigh
on four year, off and on, wet and dry, in luck and out o*
luck. His ways ain't allers my ways, but thar ain't any
p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as he's
been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez
you — confidential- like, and between man and man — sez you,
'Do you know anything in his behalf?' and I sez to you,
sez I — confidential-like, as between man and man — ' What
should a man know of his pardner ? ' "
" Is this all you have to say ? " asked the Judge, impa-
46 TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
tiently, feeling, perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of
humour was beginning to humanize the Court.
" Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. " It ain't for
me to say anything agin' him. And now what's the case ?
Here's Tennessee wants money, wants it bad, and doesn't
like to ask it of his old pardner. "Well, what does Tennessee
do ? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches that stranger.
And you lays for him, and you fetches him; and the
honours is easy, And I put it to you, bein' a far- minded
man, and to you, gentlemen, all, as far-minded men, ef this
isn't so."
"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any
questions to ask this man 1 "
" Ko ! no ! " continued Tennessee's Partner, hastily. " 1
play this yer hand alone. To come down to the bed-rock,
it's just this : Tennessee, thar, has played it pretty rough
and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this yer camp.
And now, what's the fair thing 1 Some would say more ;
some would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars
in coarse gold and a watch, — it's about all my pile, — and
call it square ! " And before a hand could be raised to pre
vent him, he had emptied the contents of the carpet-bag
upon the table.
For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men
sprang to their feet, several hands groped for hidden wea
pons, and a suggestion to " throw him from the window "
was only overridden by a gesture from the Judge. Ten
nessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excite
ment, Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop
his face again with his handkerchief.
When order was restored, and the man was made tc
understand, by the use of forcible figures and rhetoric, that
Tennessee's offence could not be condoned by money, his face
took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and those who were
nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled slightly
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER. 47
on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned
the gold to the carpet-bag, as if he had not yet entirely
caught the elevated sense of justice which swayed the tribu
nal, and was perplexed with the belief that he had not
offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, and saying,
"This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without iny
pardner," he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw,
when the Judge called him back. " If you have anything to
say to Tennessee, you had better say it now." For the
first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his
strange advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white
teeth, and saying, " Euchred, old man ! " held out his hand.
Tennessee's Partner took it in his own, and saying, " I just
dropped in as I was passin' to see how things was gettin'
on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that " it was a
warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief,
and without another word withdrew.
The two men never again met each other alive. For the
unparalleled insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch — who,
whether bigoted, weak, or narrow, was at least incorruptible
— firmly fixed in the mind of that mythical personage
any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate j and at the
break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at
the top of Marley's Hill.
How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say
anything, how perfect were the arrangements of the com
mittee, were all duly reported, with the addition of a warn
ing moral and example to all future evil-doers, in the Red
Dog Clarion, by its editor, who was present, and to whoso
vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the
beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of
earth and air and sky, the awakened life of the free woods
and hills, the joyous renewal and promise of Nature, and
above all, the infinite Serenity that thrilled through each,
was not reportedj as not being a part of the social lesson*
43 TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
And yet, when tlie weak and foolish deed was done, arid a
life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed
out of the misshapen thing that dangled between earth
and sky, the birds sang, the flowers bloomed, the sun shone,
as cheerily as before ; and possibly the Red Dog Clarion was
right.
Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded
the ominous tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention
was drawn to the singular appearance of a motionless
donkey-cart halted at the side of the road. As they ap
proached, they at once recognised the venerable " Jenny"
and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's
Partner, — used by him in carrying dirt from his claim ; and
a few paces distant the owner of the equipage himself, sit
ing under a buckeye-tree, wiping the perspiration from his
glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he had
come for the body of the " diseased " " if it was all the same
to the committee." He didn't wish to " hurry anything ;"
he could " wait." He was not working that day j and
when the gentlemen were done with the " diseased," he
would take him. " Ef thar is any present," he added, in his
simple, serious way, " a? would care to jine in the fun'l,
they kin come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humour,
which I have already intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,
— perhaps it was from something even better than that ; but
two-thirds of the loungers accepted the invitation at once.
It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered
into the hands of his partner. As the cart drew up to tho
fatal tree, we noticed that it contained a rough oblong box,
apparently made from a section of sluicing, — and half filled
with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart was further
decorated with slips of willow, and made fragrant with buck
eye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box,
Tennessee's Partner drew over it a piece of tarred canvas,
and gravely mounting the narrow seat in front, with his
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER. 4 9
feet upon the shafts, urged the little donkey forward. The
equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous pace which was
habitual with "Jenny," even under less solemn circum
stances. The men — half-curiously, half-jestingly, but all
good-humouredly — strolled along beside the cart; some in
advance, some a little in the rear of the homely catafalque.
But, whether from the narrowing of the road or some
present sense of decorum, as the cart passed on the company
fell to the rear in couples, keeping step, and otherwise
assuming the external show of a formal procession. Jack
Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in
dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted, from a
lack of sympathy and appreciation, — not having, perhaps,
your true humourist's capacity to be content with the en •
joyment of his own fun.
The way led through Grizzly Canon — by this time
clothed in funereal drapery and shadows. The red- woods,
burying their moccasoned feet in the red soil, stood in
Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth benediction
from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare,
surprised into helpless activity, sat upright and pulsating in
the ferns by the roadside as the cortege went by. Squirrels
hastened to gain a secure outlook from higher boughs ; and
the blue-jays, spreading their wings, fluttered before them
like outriders, until the outskirts of Sandy Bar were reached,
and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner.
Viewed under more favourable circumstances, it would
not have been a cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the
rude and unlovely outlines, the unsavoury details, which
distinguish the nest-building of the California miner, were
all here, with the dreariness of decay superadded. A few
paces from the cabin there was a rough enclosure, which, in
the brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity,
had been used as a garden, but was now overgrown with
forn. As we approached it, *ve were surprised to find that
£
$r> TENNESSEE'S PARTNER.
what we had taken for a recent attempt at cultivation was
the broken soil about an open grave.
The cart was halted before the enclosure ; and rejecting
the offers of assistance with the same air of simple self-
reliance he had displayed throughout, Tennessee's Partner
lifted the rough coffin on his back, and deposited it, un
aided, within the shallow grave. He then nailed down the
board which served as a lid ; and mounting the little mound
of earth beside it, took off his hat, and slowly mopped his face
with his handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary
to speech ; and they disposed themselves variously on stumps
and boulders, and sat expectant.
" When a man," began Tennessee's Partner, slowly, " has
been running free all day, what's the natural thing for him
to do 1 Why, to come home. And if he ain't in a con
dition to go home, what can his best friend do ? Why,
bring him home ! And here's Tennessee has been running
free, and we brings him home from his wandering." He
paused, and picked up a fragment of quartz, rubbed it
thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on : " It ain't the first
time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me
now. It ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer
cabin when he couldn't help himself ; it ain't the first time
that I and ' Jinny ' have waited for him on yon hill, and
picked him up and so fetched him home, when he couldn't
Fpeak, and didn't know me. And now that it's the last time,
whv " he paused, and rubbed the quartz gently on his
sleeve — " you see it's a sort of rough on his partner. And
now, gentlemen," he added, abruptly, picking up his long-
handled shovel, " the fun'l 's over ; and my thanks, and
Tennessee's thanks to you for your trouble."
Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the
grave, turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few
moments' hesitation gradually withdrew. As they crossed
the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar from view, some, looking
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER. 51
back, though fc they could see Tennessee's Partner, his work
clone, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his knees,
and his face buried in his red bandanna handkerchief. But
it was argued by others that you couldn't tell his face frou.
his handkerchief at that distance j and this point remained
undecided.
In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of
that day, Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret
investigation had cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's
guilt, and left only a suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy
Bar made a point of calling on him, and proffering various
uncouth, but well-meant kindnesses. But from that day this
rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline ;
and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-
blades were beginning to peep from the rocky mound above
Tennessee's grave, he took to his bed.
One night, when the pines beside the cabin were sway
ing in the storm, and trailing their slender fingers over the
roof, and the roar and rush of the swollen river were heaid
below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his head from the pillow,
saying, " It is time to go for Tennessee ; I must put
Jinny' in the cart;" and would have risen from his bed
but for the restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still
pursued his singular fancy : " There, now, steady, ' Jinny,'
— steady, old girl. How dark it is ! Look out for the ruts,
— and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, you
know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the
trail. Keep on straight up to the pine on the top of the
hill. Thar — I told you so ! — thar he is, — coming this way,
too, — all by himself, sober, and his face a-shining. Ten
nessee ! Pardner ! "
so they met.
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
ANDY was very drunk. He was lying under an azalea-
bush, in pretty much the same attitude in which he
had fallen some hours before. How long he had been lying
there he could not tell, and didn't care ; how long he should
lie there was a matter equally indefinite and unconsidered.
A tranquil philosophy, born of his physical condition, suf
fused and saturated his moral being.
The spectacle of a drunken man, and of this drunken man
in particular, was not, I grieve to say, of sufficient novelty
in Red Gulch to attract attention. Earlier in the day
some local satirist had erected a temporary tombstone at
Sandy's head, bearing the inscription, — " Effects of
McCorkle's whiskey, — kills at forty rods," with a hand
pointing to McCorkle's saloon. But this, I imagine, was,
like most local satire, personal ; and was a reflection upon
the unfairness of the process rather than a commentary upon
the impropriety of the result. With this facetious exception,
Sandy had been undisturbed. A wandering mule, released
from his pack, had cropped the scant herbage beside him,
and sniffed curiously at the prostrate man ; a vagabond dog,
with that deep sympathy which the species have for drunken
men, had licked his dusty boots, and curled himself up at his
feet, and lay there, blinking one eye in the sunlight, with a
simulation of dissipation that was ingenious and dog-like in
its implied flattery of the unconscious man beside him.
Meanwhile the shadows of the pine-trees had slowly
swung around until they crossed the road, and their trunks
barred the open meadow with gigantic parallels of black and
yellow. Little puffs of red dust, lifted by the plunging
hoof g of passing teams, dispersed in a grimy shower upon the
recumbent man. The sun sank lower and lower ; and still
Sandy stirred not. And then the repose of this philosopher
THE IDYL OF RED GULCfr. 53
was disturbed, as other philosophers have been, by the in
trusion of an unphilosophical sex.
" Miss Mary," as she was known to the little flock that
she had just dismissed from the log school-house beyond tho
pines, was taking her afternoon walk. Observing an un
usually fine cluster of blossoms on the azalea-bush opposite,
she crossed the road to pluck it, — picking her way through
the red dust, not without certain fierce little shivers of
disgust, and some feline circumlocution. And then she
came suddenly upon Sandy !
Of course she uttered the little staccato cry of her sex.
But when she had paid that tribute to her physical weak
ness she became overbold, and halted for a moment, — at
least six feet from this prostrate monster, — with her white
skirts gathered in her hand, ready for flight. But neither
sound nor motion came from the bush. With one little
foot she then overturned the satirical head-board, and mut-
terred, " Beasts ! " — an epithet which probably, at that
moment, conveniently classified in her mind the entire male
population of Red Gulch. For Miss Mary, being possessed
of certain rigid notions of her own, had not, perhaps, properly
appreciated the demonstrative gallantry for which the
Calif ornian has been so justly celebrated by his brother
Californians, and had, as a new-comer, perhaps, fairly earned
the reputation of being " stuck up."
As she stood there she noticed, also, that the slant sun
beams were heating Sandy's head to what she judged to be
an unhealthy temperature, and that his hat was lying use
lessly at his side. To pick it up and to place it over his face
was a work requiring some courage, particularly as his eyes
were open. Yet she did it and made good her retreat. But
she was somewhat concerned, on looking back, to see that
the hat was removed, arid that Sandy was sitting up and
saying something.
The truth was, that in the calm depths of Sandy's mind
54 THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
he was satisfied that the rays of the sun were beneficial and
healthful ; that from childhood he had objected to lying down
in a hat ; that no people but condemned fools, past redemp
tion, ever wore hats ; and that his right to dispense with
them when he pleased was inalienable. This was the state
ment of his inner consciousness. Unfortunately, its outward
expression was vague, being limited to a repetition of the
following formula, — " Su'shine all ri' ! Wasser ma'ar, eh ?
Wass up, su'shine 1"
Miss Mary stopped, and, taking fresh courage from her
vantage of distance, asked him if there was anything that he
wanted.
" Wass up ? Wasser ma'ar T' continued Sandy, in a very
high key.
" Get up, you horrid man ! " said Miss Mary, now
thoroughly incensed ; " get up, and go home."
Sandy staggered to his feet. He was six feet high, and
Miss Mary trembled. He started forward a few paces and
then stopped.
"Wass I go home for?" he suddenly asked, with great
gravity.
" Go and take a bath," replied Miss Mary, eying his
grimy person with great disfavour.
To her infinite dismay, Sandy suddenly pulled off his coat
and vest, threw them on the ground, kicked off his boots,
and, plunging wildly forward, darted headlong over the hill,
in the direction of the river.
" Goodness Heavens ! — the man will be drowned !" said
Miss Mary ; and then, with feminine inconsistency, she ran
back to the school-house, and locked herself in.
That night, while seated at supper with her hostess, the
blacksmith's wife, it camo to Miss Mary to ask, demurely, if
her husband ever got drunk. "Abner," responded Mrs.
Stidger, reflectively, "let's see : Abner hasn't been tight
since last 'lection." Miss Mary would have liked to ask if
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH. 55
ne preferred lying in the sun on these occasions, and if a cold
bath would have hurt him ; but this would have involved an
explanation, which she did not then care to give. So she
contented herself with opening her gray eyes widely at the
red-cheeked Mrs. Stidger, — a fine specimen of South- western
efflorescence, — and then dismissed the subject altogether.
The next day she wrote to her dearest friend, in Boston : " I
think I find the intoxicated portion of this community the
least objectionable. I refer, my dear, to the men, of course.
I do not know anything *hat could make the women
tolerable."
In less than a week Miss Mar}' had forgotten this episode,
except that her afternoon walks took thereafter, almost un
consciously, another direction. She noticed, however, that
every morning a fresh cluster of azalea-blossoms appeared
among the flowers on her desk. This was not strange, as her
little flock were aware of her fondness for flowers, and
invariably kept her desk bright with anemones, syringas,
and lupines; but, on questioning them, they, one and all,
professed ignorance of the azaleas. A few days later, Master
Johnny Stidger, whose desk was nearest to the window, was
suddenly taken with spasms of apparently gratuitous Ian ^hter,
that threatened the discipline of the school. All that Miss
Mary could get from him was that some one had )een
"looking in the winder." Irate and indignant, she sallied
from her hive to do battle with the intruder. As she turned
the corner of the school house she came plump upon the
quondam drunkard, now perfectly sober, and inexpressibly
sheepish and guilty-looking.
These facts Miss Mary was not slow to take a feminine
advantage of, in her present humour. But it was somewhat
confusing to observe, also, that the beast, despite some faint
signs of past dissipation, was amiable-looking, — in fact, a
kind of blond Samson, whose corn-coloured, silken beard
apparently had never yet known the touch of barber's razor
56 THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
or Delilah's shears. So that the cutting speech which
quivered on her ready tongue died upon her lips, and she
contented herself with receiving his stammering apology
with supercilious eyelids, and the gathered skirts of uncon-
tamination. When she re-entered the school- room, her eyes
fell upon the azaleas with a new sense of revelation. And
then she laughed, and the little people all laughed, and they
were all unconsciously very happy.
It was on a hot day — and not long after this — that two
short-legged boys came to grief on the threshold of the
school with a pail of water, which they had laboriously
brought from the spring, and that Miss Mary compassionately
seized the pail and started for the spring herself. At the foot
of the hill a shadow crossed her path, and a blue-shirted arm
dexterously, but gently, relieved her of her burden. Miss
Mary was both embarrassed and angry. " If you carried
more of that for yourself," she said, spitefully, to the blue
arm, without deigning to raise her lashes to its owner, " you'd
do better." In the submissive silence that followed she
regretted tho speech, and thanked him so sweetly at the door
that he stumbled, which caused the children to laugh again, —
a laugh in which Miss Mary joined, until the colour came
faintly into her pale cheek. The next day a barrel was
mysteriously placed beside the door, and as mysteriously
filled with fresh spring-water every morning.
Nor was this superior young person without other quiet
attentions. "Profane Bill," driver of the Slumgullion Stage,
widely known in the newspapers for his " gallantry " in
invariably offering the box-seat to the fair sex, had excepted
Miss Mary from this attention, on the ground that he had a
habit of " cussin' on up grades," and gave her half the coach
to herself. Jack Hamlin, a gambler, having once silently
ridden with her in the same coach, afterwards threw a
decanter at the head of a confederate for mentioning her
name in a bar-room. The over- dressed mother of a pupil
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH. 57
whose paternity was doubtful, had often lingered near this
astute Vestal's temple, never daring to enter its sacred pre-
ciucts, but content to worship the priestess from afar.
"With such unconscious intervals the monotonous pro
cession of blue skies, glittering sunshine, brief twilights, and
starlit nights passed over Red Gulch. Miss Mary grew fond
of walking in the sedate and proper woods. Perhaps she
believed, with Mrs. Stidger, that the balsamic odours of the
firs " did her chest? good," for certainly her slight cough was
less freqiient and her step was firmer; perhaps she had
learned the unending lesson which the patient pines are
never weary of Repeating to heedful or listless ears. And so,
one day, she planned a pic-nic on Buck-eye Hill, and took the
children with her. Away from the dusty road, the straggling
shanties, the yellow ditches, the clamour of restless engines,
the cheap finery of shop-windows, the deeper glitter of paint
and coloured glass, and the thin veneering which barbarism
takes upon itself in such localities — what infinite relief was
theirs ! The last heap of ragged rock and clay passed, the
last unsightly chasm crossed, — how the waiting woods
opened their long files to receive them ! How the children —
perhaps because they had not yet grown quite away from the
breast of the bounteous Mother — threw themselves face
downward on her brown bosom with uncouth caresses,
filling the air with their laughter ; and how Miss Mary
herself — felinely fastidious and intrenched as she was in the
purity of spotless skirts, collar, and cuffs — forgot all, and ran
like a crested quail at the head of her brood, until, romping,
laughing, and panting, with a loosened braid of brown hair,
a hat hanging by a knotted ribbon from her throat, she came
suddenly and violently, in the heart of the forest, upon — the
luckless Sandy !
The explanations, apologies, and not overwise conversation
that ensued, need not be indicated here. It would seem,
however, that Miss Mary had already established some
58 THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
acquaintance with this ex-drunkard. Enough that he
soon accepted as one of the party ; that the children, with
that quick intelligence which Providence gives the helpless,
recognized a friend, and played with his blond beard, and
long silken mustache, and took other liberties, — as the help
less are apt to do. And when he had built a fire against a
tree, and had shown them other mysteries of wood-craft,
their admiration knew no bounds. At the close of two such
foolish, idle, happy hours he found himsejf lying at the feet
of the schoolmistress, gazing dreamily in her face, as she sat
upon the sloping hill- side, weaving wreaths of laurel and
syringa, in very much the same attitude as he had lain when
first they met. Nor was tk« similitude greatly forced. The
weakness of an easy, sensuous nature, that had found a
dreamy exaltation in liquor, it is to be feared was now find
ing an equal intoxication in love.
I think that Sandy was dimly conscious of this himself.
I know that he longed to be doing something, — slaying a
grizzly, scalping a savage, or sacrificing himself in some way
for the sake of this sallow-faced, gray-eyed schoolmistress.
As I should like to present him in a heroic attitude, I stay
my hand with great difficulty at this moment, being only
withheld from introducing such an episode by a strong con
viction that it does not usually occur at such times. And I
trust that my fairest reader, who remembers that, in a real
crisis, it is always some uninteresting stranger or unromantic
policeman, and not Adolphns, who rescues, will forgive the
omission.
So they sot there, undisturbed — the woodpeckers chattering
overhead, and the voices of the children coming pleasantly
from the hollow below. What they said matters little. What
they thought — which might have been interesting — did not
transpire. The woodpeckers only learned how Miss Mar^
was an orphan j how she left her uncle's house, to come to
California, for the sake of health and independence ; how
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH. 59
Sandy was an orphan, too ; how he came to California for ex
citement j how he had lived a wild life, and how he was trying
to reform ; and other details, which, from a woodpecker's
view-point, undoubtedly must have seemed stupid, and a
waste of time. But even in such trifles was the afternoon
spent ; and when the children were again gathered, and
Sandy, with a delicacy which the schoolmistress well under
stood, took leave of them quietly at the outskirts of the
settlement, it had seemed the shortest day of her weary life.
As the long, dry summer withered to its roots, the school
term of Red Gulch — to use a local euphuism — " dried up "
also. In another day Miss Mary would be free j and for a
season, at least, Red Gulch would know her no more. She
was seated alone in the school-house, her cheek resting on her
hand, her eyes half closed in one of those day-dreams in
which Miss Mary — I fear, to the danger of school discipline
— was lately in the habit of indulging. Her lap was full of
mosses, ferns, and other woodland memories. She was so
pre-occupied with these and her own thoughts that a gentle
tapping at the door passed unheard, or translated itself into
the remembrance of far-off woodpeckers. When at last it
asserted itself more distinctly, she started up with a flushed
cheek and opened the door. On the threshold stood a
woman, the self-assertion and audacity of whose dress were
in singular contrast to her timid, irresolute bearing.
Miss Mary recognised at a glance the dubious mother of
her anonymous pupil. Perhaps she was disappointed, perhaps
she was only fastidious ; but as she coldly invited her to
enter, she half-unconsciously settled her white cuffs and
collar, and gathered closer her own chaste skirts. It ^ns,
perhaps, for this reason that the embarrassed stranger, after
a moment's hesitation, left her gorgeous parasol open and
sticking in the dust beside the door, and then sat down at
the farther end of a long bench. Her voice was husky as she
began, — •
60 THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
"I lieerd tell that you were goiu' down to the Bay to
morrow, and I couldn't let you go until I came to thank you
for your kindness to my Tommy."
Tommy, Miss Mary said, was a good boy, and deserved
more than the poor attention she could give him.
" Thank you, miss ; thank ye ! " cried the stranger,
brightening even through the colour which Red Gulch knew
facetiously as her " war paint," and striving, in her embar
rassment, to drag the long bench nearer the schoolmistress.
" I thank you, miss, for that ! and if I am his mother, there
ain't a sweeter, dearer, better boy lives than him. And if I
ain't much as says it, thar ain't a sweeter dearer, angeler
teacher lives than he's got."
Miss Mary, sitting primly behind her desk, with a ruler
over her shoulder, opened her gray eyes widely at this, but
said nothing.
" It ain't for you to be complimented by the like of me, 1
know," she went on, hurriedly. "It ain't for me to be
comin' here, in broad day, to do it, either ; but I come to
ask a favour, — not for me, miss, — not for me, but for the
darling boy."
Encouraged by a look in the young schoolmistress's eye,
and putting her lilac-gloved hands together, the fingers down
ward, between her knees, she went on, in a low voice, —
" You see, miss, there's no one the boy has any claim on
but me, and I ain't the proper person to bring him up. I
thought some, last year, of sending him away to 'Frisco to
school, but when they talked of bringing a schoolma'am here,
I waited till I saw you, and then I knew it was all right, and
I could keep my boy a little longer. And O, miss, he loves
you so much ; and if you could hear him talk about you, in
his pretty way, and if he could ask you what I ask you now,
you couldn't refuse him.
"It is natural," she went on rapidly, in a voice that
trembled strangely between pride and humility, — "it's natural
THE IDYL OF RED GULCH. 61
that lie should take to you, miss, for his father, when I first
knew him, was a gentleman, — and the boy must forget me,
sooner or later, — and so I ain't a-goin' to cry about that.
For I come to ask you to take my Tommy, — God bless him
for the bestest, sweetest boy that lives ! — to — to — take him
with you."
She had risen and caught the young girl's hand in her own,
and had fallen on her knees beside her.
" I've money plenty, and it's all yours and his. Put him
in some good school, where you. can go and see him, and help
him to — to — to forget his mother. Do with him what you
like. The worst you can do will be kindness to what he will
learn with me. Only take him out of this wicked life, this
cruel place, this home of shame and sorrow. You will ; I
know you will, — won't you 1 You will, — you must not, you
cannot say no ! You will make him as pure, as gentle as
yourself ; and when he has grown up, you will tell him his
father's name, — the name that hasn't passed my lips for
years, — the name of Alexander Morton, whom they call here
Sandy ! Miss Mary ! — do not take your hand away ! Miss
Mary, speak to me ! You will take my boy ? Do not put
your face from me. I know it ought not to look on such as
me. Miss Mary ! — my God, be merciful !— she is leaving me ! "
Miss Mary had risen, and, in the gathering twilight, had
felt her way to the open window. She stood there, leaning
against the casement, her eyes fixed on the last rosy tints
that were fading from the western sky. There was still some
of its light on her pure young forehead, on her white collar,
on her clasped white hands, but all fading slowly away. The
suppliant had dragged herself, still on her knees, beside her.
"I know it takes time to consider. I will wait here all
night ; but I cannot go until you speak. Do not deny me
now. You will ! — I see it in your sweet face, — such a face
as I have seen in my dreams. I see it in your eyes, Miss
Mary ! — you will take my boy S"
62 THE IDYL OF RED GULCH.
The last red beam crept higher, suffused Miss Mary's eyes
with something of its glory, flickered, and faded, and went
out. The sun had set on Bed Gulch. In the twilight and
silence Miss Mary's voice sounded pleasantly.
" I will take the boy. Send him to me to-night."
The happy mother raised the hem of Miss Mary's skirts to
her lips. She would have buried her hot face in its virgin
folds, but she dared not. She rose to her feet.
"Does — this man — know of your intention?" asked Miss
Mary, suddenly.
" No ; nor cares. He has never even seen the child to
know it."
" Go to him at once, — to night, — now. Tell him what
you have done. Tell him I have taken his child, and tell
him — he must never see — see — the child again. Wherever
it may be, he must not come ; wherever I may take it, he
must not follow ! There, go now, please — I'm weary, and —
have much yet to do ! "
They walked together to the door. On the threshold the
woman turned.
"Good night."
She would have fallen at Miss Mary's feet. But at the
same moment the young girl reached out her arms, caught
the sinful woman to her own pure breast for one brief
moment, and then closed and locked the door.
It was with a sudden sense of great responsibility that
Profane Bill took the reins of the Slumgullion Stage the next
morning, for the schoolmistress was one of his passengers.
As he entered the high-road, in obedience to a pleasant voice
from the "inside," he suddenly reined up his horses and
respectfully waited, as "Tommy" hopped out at the com
mand of Miss Mary.
" Not that bush, Tommy— the next."
Tommy whipped out his new pocket-knife, and, cutting a
HIGH- WA TER MARK. 63
branch from a tall azalea-bush, returned with it to Miss
Mary.
"All right now ]"
"All right."
And the stage-door closed on the Idyl of Red Gulch.
HIGH WATER MARK.
A \J HEIST the tide was out on the Dedlow Marsh, ita
extended dreariness was patent. Its spongy, low-
lying surface, sluggish, inky pools, and tortuous sloughs,
twisting their slimy way, eel-like, toward the open hay, were
all hard facts. So were the few green tussocks, with their
scant blades, their amphibious flavour, and unpleasant damp
ness. And if you choose to indulge your fancy, — although
the flat monotony of Dedlow Marsh was not inspiring, — the
wavy line of scattered drift gave an unpleasant consciousness
of the spent waters, and made the dead certainty of the
returning tide a gloomy reflection, which no present sunshine
could dissipate. The greener meadow-land seemed oppressed
with this idea, and made no positive attempt at vegetation
until the work of reclamation should be complete. In the
bitter fruit of the low cranberry-bushes one might fancy ho
detected a naturally sweet disposition curdled and soured by
an injudicious course of too much regular cold water.
The vocal expression of the Dedlow Marsh was also melan
choly and depressing. The sepulchral boom of the bittern,
the shriek of the curlew, the scream of passing brent, the
wrangling of quarrelsome teal, the sharp, querulous protest of
the startled crane, and syllabled complaint of the "killdeer"
plover were beyond the power of written expression. Nor
was the aspect of these mournful fowls at all cheerful and
inspiring. Certainly not the blue heron standing midleg
deep in the water, obviously catching cold in a reckless dis-
6.f. HIGH-WATER MARK.
regard of wet feet and consequences; nor the mournful curies,
the dejected plover, or the low-spirited snipe, who saw tit to
join him in his suicidal contemplation ; nor the impassive
king-fisher — an ornithological Marius — reviewing the deso
late expanse ; nor the black raven that went to and fro over
the face of the marsh continually, but evidently couldn't
make up his mind whether the waters had subsided, and felt
low-spirited in the reflection that, after all this trouble, he
wouldn't be able to give a definite answer. On the contrary,
it was evident at a glance that the dreary expanse of Dedlow
Marsh told unpleasantly on the birds, and that the season of
migration was looked forward to with a feeling of relief and
satisfaction by the full-grown, and of extravagant anticipa
tion by the callow, brood. But if Dedlow Marsh was cheer
less at the slack of the low tide, you should have seen it
when the tide was strong and full. When the damp air
blew chilly over the cold, glittering expanse, and came to
the faces of those who looked seaward like another tide ;
when a steel-like glint marked the low hollows and the
sinuous line of slough ; when the great shell- incrusted trunks
of fallen trees arose again, and went forth on their dreary,
purposeless wanderings, drifting hither and thither, but
getting no farther toward any goal at the falling tide or the
day's decline than the cursed Hebrew in the legend ; when
the glossy ducks swung silently, making neither ripple nor
furrow on the simmering surface; when the fog came in with
the tide and shut out the blue above, even as the green
below had been obliterated ; when boatmen, lost in that fog,
paddling about in a hopeless way, started at what seemed
the brushing of mermen's fingers 011 the boat's keel, or
bhrank from the tufts of grass spreading around like the
floating hair of a corpse, and knew by these signs that they
were lost upon Dedlow Marsh, and must make a night of it,
and a gloomy one at that, — then you might know something
of Dedlow Marsh at high water.
HIGH-WATERMARK. 6$
Let me recall a stoiy connected with this latter view,
which never failed to recur to my mind in my long gunning
excursions upon Dedlow Marsh. Although the event was
briefly recorded in the county paper, I had the story, in all
its eloquent detail, from the lips of the principal actor. I
cannot hope to catch the varying emphasis and peculiar
colouring of feminine delineation, for my narrator was a
woman ; but I'll try to give at least its substance.
She lived midway of the great slough of Dedlow Marsh
and a good-sized river, which debouched four miles beyond
into an estuary formed by the Pacific Ocean, on the long
sandy peninsula which constituted the south-western boundary
of a noble bay. The house in which she lived was a small
frame cabin, raised from the marsh a few feet by stout piles,
and was three miles distant from the settlements upon the
river. Her husband was a logger, — a profitable business in
a county where the principal occupation was the manufacture
of lumber.
It was the season of early spring, when her husband left
on the ebb of a high tide, with a raft of logs for the usual
transportation to the lower end of the bay. As she stood by
the door of the little cabin when the voyagers departed, she
noticed a cold look in the south-eastern sky, and she remem
bered hearing her husband say to his companions that they
must endeavour to complete their voyage before the coming
of the south-westerly gale which he saw brewing. And that
night it began to storm and blow harder than she had ever
before experienced, and some great trees fell in the forest by
the river, and the house rocked like her baby's cradle.
But however the storm might roar about the little cabin,
she knew that one she trusted had driven bolt and bar with
his own strong hand, and that had he feared for her he
would not have left her. This, and her domestic duties, and
the care of her little sickly baby, helped to keep her mind
from dwelling on the weather, except, of course, to hope that
F
6C. HIGH-WATER MARK
he was safely harboured with the logs at Utopia in fche
dreary distance. But she noticed that day, when she west
out to feed the chickens and look after the cow, that the tide
was up to the little fence of their garden patch, and the roar
of the surf on the south beach, though miles away, she could
hear distinctly. And she began to think that she would
like to have some one to talk with about matters, and she
believed that if it had not been so far and so stormy, and
the trail so impassable, she would have taken the baby, and
have gone over to Ryckman's, her nearest neighbour. But
then, you see, he might have returned in the storm, all wet
with no one to see to him ; and it was a long exposure for
baby, who was croupy and ailing.
But that night, she never could tell why, she didn't feel
like sleeping or even lying down. The storm had somewhat
abated, but she still "sat and sat," and even tried to read. I
don't know whether it was a Bible or some profane magazine
that this poor woman read, but most probably the latter, for
the words all ran together and made such sad nonsense that
she was forced at last to put the book down and turn to that
dearer volume which lay before her in the cradle, with its
white initial leaf as yet unsoiled, and try to look forward to
its mysterious future. And, rocking the cradle, she thought of
everything and everybody, but still was wide awake as ever.
It was nearly twelve o'clock when she at last lay down in
her clothes. How long she slept she could not remember,
but she awoke with a dreadful choking in her throat, and
found herself standing, trembling all over, in the middle of
the room, with her baby clasped to her breast, and she was
" saying something." The baby cried and sobbed, and she
walked up and down trying to hush it, when she heard a
scratching at the door. She opened it fearfully, and waa
glad to see it was only old Pete, their dog, who crawled,
dripping with water, into the room. She would like to have
looked out, not in the faint hope of her husband's coming,
HIGH-WATER MARK. 67
but to see how things looked ; but the wind shook the door
so savagely that she could hardly hold ifc. Then she sat
down a little while, and then walked up and down a
little while, and then she lay down again a little while.
Lying close by the wall of the little cabin, she thought she
heard once or twice something scrape slowly against the
clapboards, like the scraping of branches. Then there was
a little gurgling sound, "like the baby made when it was
swallowing ; " then something went " click-click " and
" cluck-cluck," so that she sat. up in bed. When she did so
she was attracted Tby something else that seemed creeping
from the back door towards the centre of the room. It
wasn't much wider than her little finger, but soon it swelled
to the width of her hand, and began spreading all over the
floor. It was water.
She ran to the front door and threw it wide open, and saw
nothing but water. She ran to the back door and threw it
open, and saw nothing but water. She ran to the side
window, and, throwing that open, she saw nothing but water.
Then she remembered hearing her husband once say that
there was no danger in the tide, for that fell regularly, and
people could calculate on it, and that he would rather live
near the bay than the river, whose banks might overflow at
any time. But was it the tide ] So she ran again to the
back door, and threw out a stick of wood. It drifted away
towards the bay. She scooped up some of the water and
put it eagerly to her lips. It was fresh and sweet. It was
the river, and not the tide !
It was then — 0, God be praised for his goodness ! she
did neither faint nor fall ; it was then — blessed be the
Saviour, for it was his merciful hand that touched and
strengthened her in this awful moment — that fear dropped
from her like a garment, and her trembling ceased. It was
then and thereafter that she never lost her self-command,
through all the trials of thatgloomy night-,
•s 9
6S HIGH-WATER MARK.
She drew the bedstead towards the middle of the room,
and placed a table upon it, and on that she put the cradle.
The water on the floor was already over her ankles, and the
house once or twice moved so perceptibly, and seemed to be
racked so, that the closet doors all flew open. Then she
heard the same rasping and thumping against the wall, and,
looking out, saw that a large uprooted tree, which had lain
near the road at the upper end of the pasture, had floated
down to the house. Luckily its long roots dragged in the
soil and kept it from moving as rapidly as the current, for
had it struck the house in its full career, even the strong
nails and bolts in the piles could not have withstood the
shock. The hound had leaped upon its knotty surface, and
crouched near the roots shivering and whining. A ray of
hope flashed across her mind. She drew a heavy blanket
from the bed, and, wrapping it about the babe, waded in the
deepening waters to the door. As the tree swung again,
broadside on, making the little cabin creak and tremble, she
leaped on to its trunk. By God's mercy she succeeded in
obtaining a footing on its slippery surface, and, twining an
arm about its roots, she held in the other a moaning child.
Then something cracked near the front porch, and the whole
front of the house she had just quitted fell forward, just as
cattle fall on their knees before they lie down, — and at the
same moment the great redwood tree swung round and
drifted away with its living cargo into the black night.
For all the excitement and danger, for all her soothing of
her crying babe, for all the whistling of the wind, for all the
uncertainty of her situation, she still turned to look at the
deserted and water-swept cabin. She remembered even
then, and she wonders how foolish she was to think of it at
that time, that she wished she had put on another dress and
the baby's best clothes ; and she kept praying that the house
would be spared so that he, when he returned, would have
something to come to, and it wouldn't be quite so desolate,
HIGH-WATER MARK. 69
and — how could he ever know what had become of her and
baby 1 And at the thought she grew sick and faint. But
she had something else to do besides worrying, for whenever
the long roots of her ark struck an obstacle, the whole trunk
made half a revolution, and twice dipped her in the black
water. The hound, who kept distracting her by running up
and down the tree and howling, at last fell off at one of these
collisions. He swam for some time beside her, and she tried
to get the poor beast upon the tree, but he "acted silly" and
wild, and at last she lost sight of him for ever. Then she
and her baby were left alone. The light which had burned
for a few minutes in the deserted cabin was quenched
suddenly. She could not then tell whither she was drifting.
The outline of the white dunes on the peninsula showed
dimly ahead, and she judged the tree was moving in a line
with the river. It must be about slack water, and she had
probably reached the eddy formed by the confluence of the
tide and the overflowing waters of the river. Unless the
tide fell soon, there was present danger of her drifting to its
channel, and being carried out to sea or crushed in the float
ing drift. That peril averted, if she were carried out on the
ebb toward the bay, she might hope to strike one of the
wooded promontories of the peninsula, and rest till daylight.
Sometimes she thought she heard voices and shouts from the
river, and the bellowing of cattle and bleating of sheep.
Then again it was only the ringing in her ears and throbbing
of her heart. She found at about this time that she was so
chilled and stiffened in her cramped position that she could
scarcely move, and the baby cried so when she put it to her
breast that she noticed the milk refused to flow ; and she
was so frightened at that, that she put her head under her
shawl and for the first time cried bitterly.
When she raised her head again, the boom of the surf was
behind her, and she knew that her ark had again swung
round. She dipped up the water to cool her parched throat,
70 HIGH-WATER MARK.
and found that it was salt as her tears. There was a relief,
though, for by this sign she knew she was drifting with the
tide. It was then the wind went down, and the great and
awful silence oppressed her. jThcre was scarcely a ripple
against the furrowed sides of the great trunk on which she
rested, and around her all was black gloom and quiet. She
spoke to the baby just to hear herself speak, and to kno^v
that she had not-lost her voice. She thought then — it was
queer, but she could not help thinking it — how awful mus«
have been the night when the great ship swung over the
Asiatic peak, and the sounds of creation were blotted out
from the world. She thought, too, of mariners clinging to
spars, and of poor women who were lashed to rafts, and
beaten to death by the cruel sea. She tried to thank God
that she was thus spared, and lifted her eyes from the baby
who had fallen into a fretful sleep. Suddenly, away to the
southward, a great ligjit lifted itself out of the gloom, and
flashed and flickered, and flickered and flashed again. Her
heart fluttered quickly against the baby's cold cheek. It was
the lighthouse at the entrance of the bay. As she was yet
wondering, the tree suddenly rolled a little, dragged a little,
and then seemed to lie quiet and still. She put out her hand
and the current gurgled against it. The tree was aground,
and, by the position of the light and the noise of the surf,
aground upon the Dedlow Marsh.
Had it not been for her baby, who was ailing and croupy
had it not been for the sudden drying up of that sensitive
fountain, she would have felt safe and relieved. Perhaps it
was this which tended to make all her impressions mournful
and gloomy. As the tide rapidly fell, a great flock of black
brent fluttered by her, screaming and crying. Then the
plover flew up and piped mournfully, as they wheeled around
the trunk, and at last fearlessly lit upon it like a gray cloud.
Then the heron flew over and around her, shrieking and
protesting, and at last dropped its gaunt legs only a few
HIGH-WATER MARk. 71
yards from her. But, strangest of all, a pretty white bird,
larger than a dove, like a pelican, but not a pelican, circled
around and around her. At last it lit upon a rootlet of the
tree, quite over her shoulder. She put out her hand and
stroked its beautiful white neck, and it never appeared to move.
It stayed there so long that she thought she would lift up the
baby to see it, and try to attract her attention. But when
she did so, the child was so chilled and cold, and had such a
blue look under the little lashes, which it didn't raise at all
that she screamed aloud, and the bird flew away, and she
fainted.
Well, that was the worst of it, and perhaps it was not so
much, after all, to any but herself. For when she recovered
her senses it was bright sunlight, and dead low water. There
was a confused noise of guttural voices about her, and an
old squaw, singing an Indian " hushaby," and rocking
herself from side to side before a fire built on the marsh,
before which she, the recovered wife and mother, lay weak
and weary. Her first thought was for her baby, and she
was about to speak, when a young squaw, who must have
been a mother herself, fathomed her thought, and brought
her the " mo witch," pale but living, in such a queer little
willow cradle all bound up, just like the squaw's own young
one, that she laughed and cried together, and the young
squaw and the old squaw showed their big white teeth and
glinted their black eyes and said, " Plenty get well, skeena
mowitch," " wagee man come plenty soon," and she could
have kissed their brown faces in her joy. And then she
found that they had been gathering berries on the marsh in
their queer, comical baskets, and saw the skirt of her gown
fluttering 011 the tree from afar, and the old squaw couldn't
resist the temptation of procuring a new garment, and came
down and discovered the " wagee " woman and child. And
of course she gave the garment to the old squaw, as you
rnay imagine, and when, he came at last and rushed uj> to
72 A LONELY RIDE.
her, looking about ten years older in his anxiety, she felt so
faint again that they had to carry her to the canoe. For,
you see, he knew nothing about the flood until he met the
Indians at Utopia, and knew by the signs that the poor
woman was his wife. And at the next high-tide he towed
the tree away back home, although it wasn't worth the
trouble, and built another house, using the old tree for the
foundation and props, and called it after her, " Mary's Ark ! "
But you may guess the next house was built above High-
water mark. And that's all.
Not much, perhaps, considering the malevolent capacity
of the Dedlow Marsh. But you must tramp over it at low
water, or paddle over it at high tide, or get lost upon it
once or twice in the fog, as I have, to understand properly
Mary's adventure, or to appreciate duly the blessings of
living beyond High- Water Mark.
A LONELY RIDE.
A S I stepped into the Slumgullion stage I saw that it was
a dark night, a lonely road, and that I was the only
passenger. Let me assure the reader that I have no ulterior
design in making this assertion. A long course of light reading
has forewarned me what every experienced intelligence must
confidently look for from such a statement. The story-teller
who wilfully tempts Fate by such obvious beginnings ; who
is to the expectant reader in danger of being robbed or half-
murdered, or frightened by an escaped lunatic, or introduced
to his lady-love for the first time, deserves to be detected. I
am relieved to say that none of these things occurred to me.
The road from Wingdam to Slumgullion knew no other
banditti than the regularly licensed hotel-keepers ; lunatics
had not yet reached such depth of imbecility as to ride of
A LONELY RIDE. 73
their own free-will in Californian stages ; and my Laura,
amiable and long-suffering as she always is, could not, I fear,
have borne up against these depressing circumstances long
enough to have made the slightest impression on me.
I stood with my shawl and carpet-bag in hand, gazing
doubtingly on the vehicle. Even in the darkness the red
dust of Wingdam was visible on its roof and sides, and the
red slime of Slumgullion clung tenaciously to its wheels. I
opened the door ; the stage creaked uneasily, and in the
gloomy abyss the swaying straps beckoned me, like ghostly
hands, to come in now, and have my sufferings out at
once.
I must not omit to mention the occurrence of a circum
stance which struck me as appalling and mysterious. A
lounger on the steps of the hotel, whom I had reasoij to
suppose was not in any way connected with the stage
company, gravely descended, and, walking toward the
conveyance, tried the handle of the door, opened it,
expectorated in the carriage, and returned to the hotel with
a serious demeanour. Hardly had he resumed his position,
when another individual, equally disinterested, impassively
walked down the steps, proceeded to the back of the stage,
lifted it, expectorated carefully on the axle, and returned
slowly and pensively to the hotel. A third spectator wearily
disengaged himself from one of the Ionic columns of the
portico and walked to the box, remained for a moment in
serious and expectorative contemplation of the boot, and
then returned to his column. There was something so weird
in this baptism that I grew quite nervous.
Perhaps I was out of spirits. A number of infinitesimal
annoyances, winding up with the resolute persistency of the
clerk at the stage -office to enter my name misspelt on the
way-bill, had not predisposed me to cheerfulness. The
inmates of the Eureka House, from a social view-point, were
not attractive. There was the prevailing opinion — so
74 A LONELY RIDE.
common to many honest people — that a serious style of
deportment and conduct toward a stranger indicates high
gentility and elevated station. Obeying this principle, all
hilaaifcy ceased on my entrance to supper, and general remark
merged into the safer and uncompromising chronicle of
several bad cases of diptheria, then epidemic at Wingdain.
When I left the dining-room, with an odd feeling that I had
been supping exclusively on mustard and tea-leaves, I
stopped a moment at the parlour door. A piano, harmoni
ously related to the dinner-bell, tinkled responsive to a
diffident and uncertain touch. On the white wall the
shadow of an old and sharp profile was bending over several
symmetrical and shadowy curls. " I sez to Mariar, Mariar,
sez I, ' Praise to the face is open disgrace.' " I heard no
more. Dreading some susceptibility to sincere expression
on the subject of female loveliness, I walked away, checking
the compliment that otherwise might have risen unbidden
to my lips, and have brought shame and sorrow to the
household.
It was with the memory of these experiences resting
heavily upon me, that I stood hesitatingly before the stage
door. The driver, about to mount, was for a moment
illuminated by the open door of the hotel. He had the
wearied look which was the distinguishing expression of
Wingdam. Satisfied that I was properly way-billed and
receipted for, he took no further notice of me. I looked
longingly at the box-seat, but he did not respond to the
appeal. I flung my carpet-bag into the chasm, dived
recklessly after it, and — before I was fairly seated — with a
great sigh, a creaking of unwilling springs, complaining
bolts, and harshly expostulating axle, we moved away.
Rather the hotel door slipped behind, the sound of the piano
sank to rest, and the night and its shadows moved solemnly
upon us.
To say it was dark expressed but faintly the pitchy
A LONELY RIDE. 75
obscurity that encompassed the vehicle. The roadside trees
were scarcely distinguishable as deeper masses of shade w \ I
knew them only by the peculiar sodden odour that from
time to time sluggishly flowed in at the open window as we
rolled by. We proceeded slowly j so leisurely that, leaning
from the carriage, I more than once detected the fragrant
sigh of some astonished cow, whose ruminating repose upon
the highway we had ruthlessly disturbed. But in the
darkness our progress, more the guidance of some mysterious
instinct than any apparent volition of our own, gave an
indefinable charm of security to our journey, that a moment's
hesitation or indecision on the part of the driver would have
destroyed.
I had indulged a hope that in the empty vehicle I might
obtain that rest so often denied me in its crowded condition.
It was a weak delusion. When I stretched out my limbs it
was only to find that the ordinary conveniences for making
several people distinctly uncomfortable were distributed
throughout my individual frame. At last, resting my arms
on the straps, by dint of much gymnastic effort I became
sufficiently composed to be aware of a more refined species
of torture. The springs of the stage, rising and falling
regularly, produced a rhythmical beat, which began to
painfully absorb my attention. Slowly this thumping
merged into a senseless echo of the mysterious female of the
hotel parlour, and shaped itself into this awful and
benumbing axiom, — " Praise- to -the -face- is-open-disgraca
Praise-to-the-face-is-open- disgrace." Inequalities of the roaa1
only quickened its utterance or drawled it to an exasperating
length.
It was of no use to seriously consider the statement. It"
was of no use to except to it indignantly. It was of no use
to recall the many instances where praise to the face had
redounded to the everlasting honour of praiser and bepraised \
of no use to dwell sentimentally on modest genius antj
76 A LONELY RIDE.
courage lifted up and strengthened by open commendation ;
of no use to except to the mysterious female, — to picture
her as rearing a thin-blooded generation on selfish and
mechanically-repeated axioms, — all this failed to counteract
the monotonous repetition of this sentence. There was
nothing to do but to give in, and I was about to accept it
weakly, as we too often treat other illusions of darkness and
necessity, for the time being, when I became aware of some
other annoyance that had been forcing itself upon me for the
last few moments. How quiet the driver was !
Was there any driver? Had I any reason to suppose
that he was not lying, gagged and bound on the roadside,
and the highwayman, with blackened face, who did the thing
so quietly, driving me — whither ? The thing is perfectly
feasible. And what is this fancy now being jolted out of
me % A story 1 It's of no use to keep it back, particularly
in this abysmal vehicle, and here it comes : I am a Marquis
— a French Marquis ; French, because the peerage is not so
well known, and the country is better adapted to romantic
incident — a Marquis, because the democratic reader delights
in the nobility. My name is something ligny. I am coming
from Paris to my country seat at St. Germain. It is a dark
night, and I fall asleep and tell my honest coachman Andre"
not to disturb me, and dream of an angel. The carriage at
last stops at the chateau. It is so dark that, when I alight,
I do not recognize the face of the footman who holds the
•carriage-door. But what of that ? — peste ! I am heavy
fcdth sleep. The same obscurity also hides the old familiar
indecencies of the statues on the terrace ; but there is a
door, and it opens and shuts behind me smartly. Then I
ind myself in a trap, in the presence of the brigand who has
quietly gagged poor Andre and conducted the carriage
thither. There is nothing for me to do, as a gallant French
Marquis, but to say, " Parbleu I " draw my rapier, and die
\alorously ! I am found, a week or two after, outside a
A LONELY RIDE. 77
deserted cabaret near the barrier, with a hole through my
ruffled linen, and my pockets stripped. No ; 011 second
thoughts, I am rescued, — rescued by the angel I have been
dreaming of, who is the assumed daughter of the brigand,
but the real daughter of an intimate friend.
Looking from the window again, in the vain hope of dis
tinguishing the driver, I found my eyes were growing accus
tomed to the darkness. I could see the distant horizon,
denned by India-inky woods, relieving a lighter sky. A
few stars, widely spaced in this picture, glimmered sadly. I
noticed again the infinite depth of patient sorrow in their
serene faces ; and I hope that the Vandal who first applied
the flippant "twinkle" to them may not be driven melan
choly mad by their reproachful eyes. I noticed again the
mystic charm of space, that imparts a sense of individual
solitude to each integer of the densest constellation, involving
the smallest star with immeasurable loneliness. Something
of this calm and solitude crept over me, and I dozed in my
gloomy cavern. "When I awoke the full moon was rising.
Seen from my window, it had an indescribably unreal and
theatrical effect. It was the full moon of Norma — that
remarkable celestial phenomenon which rises so palpably to
a hushed audience and a sublime andante chorus, until the
Casta Diva is sung — the "inconstant moon" that then
and thereafter remains fixed in the heavens as though it
were a part of the solar system inaugurated by Joshua.
Again the white-robed Druids filed past me, again I saw
that improbable mistletoe cut from that impossible oak, and
again cold chills ran down my back with the first strain of
the recitative. The thumping springs essayed to beat time,
and the private box-like obscurity of the vehicle lent a cheap
enchantment to the view. But it was a vast improvement
upon my past experience, and I hugged the fond delusion.
My fears for the driver were dissipated with the rising
moon. A familiar sound had assured me of his presence in
78 A LONELY RIDE.
the full possession of at least one of his most important func
tions. Frequent and full expectoration convinced me that
his lips were as yet not sealed by the gag of highwaymen,
and soothed my anxious ear. With this load lifted from my
mind, and assisted by the mild- presence of Diana, who left,
as when she visited Endymion, much of her splendour out
side my cavern, — I looked around the empty vehicle. On
the forward seat lay a woman's hair-pin. I picked it up
with an interest that, however, soon abated. There was no
scent of the roses to cling to it still, not even of hair-oil-
No bend or twist in its rigid angles betrayed any trait of
its wearer's character. I tried to think that it might have
been "Mariar's." I tried to imagine that, confining the
symmetrical curls of that girl, it might have heard the soft
compliments whispered in her ears, which provoked the
wrath of the aged female. But in vain. It was reticent
and unswerving in its upright fidelity, and at last slipped
listlessly through my fingers.
I had dozed repeatedly, — waked on the threshold of obli
vion by contact with some of the angles of the coach, and
feeling that I was unconsciously assuming, in imitation of a
humble insect of my childish recollection, that spherical shape
which could best resist those impressions, when I perceived
that the moon, riding high in the heavens, had begun to
separate the formless masses of the shadowy landscape.
Trees isolated, in clumps and assemblages, changed places
before my window. The sharp outlines of the distant hills
came back, as in daylight, but little softened in the dry,
cold, dewless air of a California summer night. I was won
dering how late it was, and thinking that if the horses of the
night travelled as slowly as the team before us, Faustus
might have been spared his agonizing prayer, when a sudden
spasm of activity attacked my driver. A succession of
whip-snappings, like a pack of Chinese crackers, broke from
the box before me. The stage leaped forward, and when I
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT. 79
could pick myself from under the seat, a long wliite build
ing had in some mysterious way rolled before my window.
It must be Slumgullion ! As I descended from the stage I
addressed the driver : —
" I thought you changed horses on the road ?"
" So we did. Two hours ago."
" That's odd. I didn't notice it."
" Must have been asleep, sir. Hope you had a pleasant
nap. Bully place for a nice quiet snooze — empty stage, sir !"
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT.
T T IS name was Fagg — David Fagg. He came to California
•^ •*• in '52 with us, in the " Skyscraper." I don't think he did
it in an adventurous way. He probably had no other place
to go to. "When a knot of us young fellows would recite
what splendid opportunities we resigned to go, and how sorry
our friends were to have us leave, and show daguerreotypes
and locks of hair, and talk of Mary and Susan, the man of no
account used to sit by and listen with a pained, mortified
expression on his plain face, and say nothing. I think he
had nothing to say. He had no associates, except when we
patronized him ; and, in point of fact, he was a good deal of
sport to us. He was always sea-sick whenever we had a
capful of wind. He never got his sea-legs on either. And
I never shall forget how we all laughed when Rattler tock
him the piece of pork on a string, and But you know
that time-honoured joke. And then we had such a splendid
lark with him. Miss Fanny Twinkler couldn't bear the
sight of him, and we used to make Fagg think that she had
taken a fancy to him, and send him little delicacies and
cooks from the cabin. You ought to have witnessed the
scene that took place when he came up, stammering and
Bo THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT.
very sick, to thank her ! Didn't she flash up grandly and
beautifully and scornfully? So like " Medora," Rattler
said, — Rattler knew Byron by heart, — and wasn't old Fagg
awfully cut up ? But he got over it, and when Rattler fel
sick at Valparaiso, old Fagg used to nurse him. You see he
was a good sort of fellow, but he lacked manliness and
spirit.
He had absolutely no idea of poetry. I 've seen him sit
stolidly by, mending his old clothes, when Rattler delivered
that stirring apostrophe of Byron's to the ocean. He asked
Rattler once, quite seriously, if he thought Byron was ever
sea-sick. I don't remember Rattler's reply, but I know we
all laughed very much, and I have no doubt it was some
thing good, for Rattler was smart.
When the " Skyscraper " arrived at San Francisco, we had
a grand "feed." We agreed to meet every year and per
petuate the occasion. Of course we didn't invite Fagg.
Fagg was a steerage passenger, and it was necessary, you see,
now we were ashore, to exercise a little discretion. But Old
Fagg, as we called him, — he was only about twenty-five
years old, by the way, — was the source of immense amuse
ment to us that day. It appeared that he had conceived
the idea that he could walk to Sacramento, and actually
started off afoot. We had a good time, and shook hands
with one another all around, and so parted. Ah me ! only
eight years ago, and yet some of those hands then clasped in
amity have been clenched at each other, or have dipped fur
tively in one another's pockets. I know that we didn't dine
together the next year, because young Barker swore he
wouldn't put his feet under the same mahogany with such a
very contemptible scoundrel as that Mixer ; and Nibbles,
who borrowed money at Valparaiso of young Stubbs, who
was then a waiter in a restaurant, didn't like to meet such
people.
Whe>i I bought a number of shares in the Coyote Tunnel
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT 81
at Mugginsville, in '54, I thought I'd take a run up there
and see it. I stopped at the Empire Hotel, and after dinner
I got a horse and rode round the town and out to the claim.
One of those individuals whom newspaper correspondents
call " our intelligent informant," and to whom in all small
communities the right of answering questions is tacitly
yielded, was quietly pointed out to me. Habit had enabled
him to work and talk at the same time, and he never pre-
termitted either. He gave me a history of the claim, and
added : " You see, stranger " (he addressed the bank before
him), " gold is sure to come out 'er that theer claim (he put
in a comma with his pick), but the old pro-pri-e-tor (he
wriggled out the word and the point of his pick) warn't of
much account (a long stroke of the pick for a period). He
was green, and let the boys about here jump him," — and the
rest of his sentence was confided to his hat, which he had
removed to wipe his manly brow with his red bandanna.
I asked him who was the original proprietor.
" His name war Fagg."
I went to see him. He looked a little older and plainer.
He had worked hard, he said, and was getting on " so, so."
I took quite a liking to him, and patronized him to some
extent. Whether I did so because I was beginning to have
a distrust for such fellows as Rattler and Mixer is not neces
sary for me to state.
You remember how the Coyote Tunnel went in, and how
awfully we shareholders were done ! Well, the next thing
I heard was that Rattler, who was one of the heaviest share
holders, was up at Mugginsville keeping bar for the pro
prietor of the Mugginsville Hotel, and that old Fagg had
struck it rich, and didn't know what to do with his money.
All this was told me by Mixer, who had been there, settling
up matters, and likewise that Fagg was sweet upon tho
daughter of the proprietor of the aforesaid hotel. And so
by hearsay and letter I eventually gathered that old Robins,
82 THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT.
the hotel man, was trying to get np a match between Nellie
Robins and Fagg. Nellie was a pretty, plunip, and foolish
little thing, and would do jnst as her father wished. I
thought it would be a good thing for Fagg if he should marry
and settle down; that as a married man he might be of
some account. So I ran up to Mugginsville one day to look
after things.
It did me an immense deal of good to make Rattler mix
my drinks for me, — Rattler ? the gay, brilliant, and uncon
querable Rattler, who had tried to snub me two years ago.
I talked to him about old Fagg and Nellie, particularly as I
thought the subject was distasteful. He never liked Fagg,
and he was sure, he said, that Nellie didn't. Did Nellie
like anybody else 1 He turned around to the mirror behind
the bar and brushed up his hair; I understood the con
ceited wretch. I thought I'd put Fagg on his guard and
get him to hurry up matters. I had a long talk with him.
You could see by the way the poor fellow acted that he was
badly stuck. He sighed, and promised to pluck up courage
to hurry matters to a crisis. Nellie was a good girl, and I
think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg's unobtrusive-
ness. But her fancy was already taken captive by Rattler's
superficial qualities, which were obvious and pleasing. I
don't think Nellie was any worse than you or I. We are
more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than
their intrinsic worth. It's less trouble, and, except when we
want to trust them, quite as convenient. The difficulty with
women is that their feelings are apt to get interested sooner
than ours, and then, you know, reasoning is out of the ques
tion. This is what old Fagg would have known had he been
of any account. But he wasn't. So much the worse for
him.
It was a few months afterward, and I was sitting in my
office, when in walked old Fagg. I was surprised to see
him down, but we talked over the current topics in that
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT. 83
mechanical manner of people who know that they havo
something else to say, but are obliged to get at it in that
formal way. After an interval Fagg in his natural manner
said, —
" I'm going home !"
"Going home?"
"Yes, — that is, I think I'll take a trip to the Atlantic
States. I came to see you, as you know I have some little
property, and I have executed a power of attorney for you
to manage my affairs. I have some papers I 'd like to leave
with you. Will you take charge of them 1 "
" Yes," I said. « But what of Nellie ? "
His face fell. He tried to smile, and the combination
resulted in one of the most startling and grotesque effects I
ever beheld. At length he said, —
" I shall not marry Nellie, — that is," — he 'seemed to
apologize internally for the positive form of expression, — " I
think that I had better not."
" David Fagg," I said with sudden severity, "you 're of no
account ! "
To my astonishment his face brightened. " Yes," said he,
that's it ! — I 'm of no account ! But I always knew it.
You see I thought Rattler loved that girl as well as I did,
and I knew she liked him better than she did me, and would
be happier I dare say with him. But then I knew that old
Robins would have preferred me to him, as I was better off, —
and the girl would do as he said, — and, you see, I thought I
was kinder in the way, — and so I left. But," he continued,
as I was about to interrupt him, " for fear the old man might
object to Hat tier, I've lent him enough to set him up in
business for himself in Dogtown. A pushing, active, bril
liant fellow, you know, like Rattler, can get along, and will
soon be in his old position again, — and you needn't be hard
on him. you know, if he doesn't. Good by."
I was too much disgusted with his treatment of that
G2
?4 THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT.
Rattler to be at all amiable, but as his business was pro
fitable, I promised to attend to it, and he left. A few weeks
passed. The return steamer arrived, and a terrible incident
occupied the papers for days afterward. People in all parts
of the State conned eagerly the details of an awful ship
wreck, and those who had friends aboard went away by
themselves, and read the long list of the lost under their
breath. I read of the gifted, the gallant, the noble, and
loved ones who had perished, and among them I think I
was the first to read the name of David Fagg. For the
u man ot* no account" had " gone home ln
II.-STORIES.
MLISS.
CHAPTER I.
JUST where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler
undulations, and the rivers grow less rapid and yellow,
on the side of a great red mountain, stands "Smith's Pocket."
Seen from the red road at sunset, in the red light and the red
dust, its white houses look like the outcroppings of quartz on
the mountain-side. The red stage topped with red-shirted
passengers is lost to view half a dozen times in the tortuous
descent, turning up unexpectedly in out-of-the-way places,
and vanishing altogether within a hundred yards of the
town. It is probably owing to this sudden twist in the road
that the advent of a stranger at Smith's Pocket is usually
attended with a peculiar circumstance. Dismounting from
the vehicle at the stage office, the too confident traveller
is apt to walk straight out of town under the impression
that it lies in quite another direction. It is related that one
of the tunnel-men, two miles from town, met one of these
self-reliant passengers with a carpet-bag, umbrella, Harper's
Magazine, and other evidences of " Civilization and Re
finement," plodding along over the road he had just rid
den, vainly endea-vouring to find the settlement of Smith's
Pocket.
An observant traveller might have found some compensa
tion for his disappointment in the weird aspect of that
86 MLISS.
vicinity. There were huge fissures on the hillside, and dis
placements of the red soil, resembling more the chaos of some
primary elemental upheaval than the work of man ; while,
half-way down, a long flume straddled its narrow body and
disproportionate legs over the chasin, like an enormous fossil
of some forgotten antediluvian. At every step smaller
ditches crossed the road, hiding in l-Lei >• sallow depths un
lovely streams that crept away to a clandestine union with
the great yellow torrent below, and here and there were the
ruins of some cabin with the chimney alone left intact and
the hearthstone open to the skies.
The settlement of Smith's Pocket owed its origin to the
finding of a " pocket " on its site by a veritable Smith.
Five thousand dollars were taken out of it in one half-hour
by Smith. Three thousand dollars were expended by Smith
and others in erecting a flume and in tunnelling. And then
Smith's Pocket was found to be only a pocket, and subject
like other pockets to depletion. Although Smith pierced the
bowels of the great red mountain, that five thousand dollars
was the first and last return of his labour. The mountain
grew reticent of its golden secrets, and the flume steadily
ebbed away the remainder of Smith's fortune. Then Smith
went into quartz-mining j then into quartz-milling ; then
into hydraulics and ditching, and then by easy degrees into
saloon-keeping. Presently it was whispered that Smith was
drinking a great deal ; then it was known that Smith was a
habitual drunkard, and then people began to think, as they
are apt to, that he had never "been anything else. But the
settlement of Smith's Pocket, like that of most discoveries,
was happily not dependent on the fortune of its pioneer, and
other parties projected tunnels and found pockets. So
Smith's Pocket became a settlement with its two fancy
stores, its two hotels, its one express- office, and its two first
families. Occasionally its one long straggling street was
overawed by the assumption of the latest San Francisco
MLISS. 87
fashions, imported per express, exclusively to the first families;
making outraged Nature, in the ragged outline of her fur-
rowed surface, look still more homely, and putting personal
insult on that greater portion of the population to whom the
Sabbath, with a change of linen, brought merely the neces
sity of cleanliness, without the luxury of adornment. Then
there was a Methodist Church, and hard by a Monte Bank,
and a little beyond, on the mountain-side, a graveyard ; and
then a little school-house.
" The Master," as he was known to his little flock, sat
alone one night in the school-house, with some open copy-books
before him, carefully making those bold and full characters
which are supposed to combine the extremes of chirographi-
cal and moral excellence, and had got as far as " Riches are
deceitful," and was elaborating the noun with an insincerity
of flourish that was quite in the spirit of his text, when he
heard a gentle tapping. The woodpeckers had been busy
about the roof during the day, and the noise did not disturb
his work. Bui- the opening of the door, and the tapping
continuing from the inside, caused him to look up. He was
slightly startled by the figure of a young girl, dirty and
shabbily clad. Still, her great black eyes, her coarse, un
combed, lustreless black hair falling over her sun-burned face,
her red arms and feet streaked with the red soil, were all
familiar to him. It was Melissa Smith, — Smith's mother
less child.
" What can she want here ? " thought the master. Every
body knew " Mliss," as she was called, throughout the
length and height of Red Mountain. Everybody knew her
as an incorrigible girl. Her fierce, ungovernable disposition,
her mad freaks and lawless character, were, in their way, as
proverbial as the story of her father's weaknesses, and as
philosophically accepted by the townsfolk. She wrangled
with and fought the school-boys with keener invective and
quite as powerful arm. She followed the trails with a wood-
88
man's craft, and the master had met her before, miles away,
shoeless, stock iiigless, and bareheaded on the mountain road.
The miners' camps along the stream supplied her with sub
sistence during these voluntary pilgrimages, in freely offered
alms. Not but that a larger protection had been previously
extended to Mliss. The Kev. Joshua McSnagley, " stated "
preacher, had placed her in the hotel as servant, by way of
preliminary refinement, and had introduced her to his
scholars at Sunday-school. But she threw plates occasionally
at the landlord, and quickly retorted to the cheap witticisms
of the guests, and created in the Sabbath-school a sensation
that was so inimical to the orthodox dulness and placidity of
that institution, that, with a decent regard for the starched
frocks and unblemished morals of the two pink-and-white-
faced children of the first families, the reverend gentleman
had her ignominiously expelled. Such were the antecedents,
and such the character of Mliss, as she stood before the
master. It was shown in the ragged dress, the unkempt
hair, and bleeding feet, and asked his pity. It flashed from
her black, fearless eyes, and commanded his respect.
"I come here to-night," she said rapidly and boldly,
keeping her hard glance on his, " because I knew you was
alone. I wouldn't come here when them gals was here. I
hate 'em and they hates me. That's why. You keep school,
don't you 1 I want to be teached ! "
If to the shabbiriess of her apparel and uncomeliness of
her tangled hair and dirty face she had added the humility of
tears, the master would have extended to her the usual
moiety of pity, and nothing more. But with the natural,
though illogical instincts of his species, her boldness
awakened in him something of that respect which all original
natures pay unconsciously to one another in any grade.
And he gazed at her the more fixedly as she went on still
rapidly, her hand on that door-latch and her eyes on his : —
" My name's Mliss, — Mliss Smith ! You can bet your
MUSS. £9
life on that. My father's Old Smith,— Old Bummer Smith,
— that's what's the matter with him. Mliss Smith, — and
I'm coming to school."
"Well?" said the master.
Accustomed to be thwarted and opposed, often wantonly
and cruelly, for no other purpose than to excite the violent
impulses of her nature, the master's phlegm evidently took
her by surprise. She stopped ; she began to twist a lock of
her hair between her fingers ; and the rigid line of upper
lip, drawn over the wicked little teeth, relaxed and quivered
slightly. Then her eyes dropped, and something like a
blush struggled up to her cheek, and tried to assert itself
through the splashes of redder soil, and the sunburn of
years. Suddenly she threw herself forward, calling on God
to strike her dead, and fell quite weak and helpless, with
her face on the master's desk, crying and sobbing as if her
heart would break.
The master lifted her gently and waited for the paroxysm
to pass. When with face still averted, she was repeating
between her sobs the mea culpa of childish penitence, — that
" she'd be good, she didn't mean to," &c., it came to him to
ask her why she had left Sabbath-school.
Why had she left the Sabbath-school?— why ? O yes.
What did he (McSnagley) want to tell her she was wicked
for 1 What did he tell her that God hated her for 'I If God
hated her, what did she want to go Sabbath-school for 1 She
didn't want to be " beholden " to anybody who hated her.
Had she told McSnagley this ?
Yes she had.
The master laughed. It was a hearty laugh, and echoed
so oddly in the little school-house, and seemed so inconsistent
and discordant with the sighing of the pines without, that he
shortly corrected himself with a sigh. The sigh was quite
as sincere in its way, however, and after a moment of serious
silence he asked her about her father.
90 MLISS.
Her father] What father? Whose father? What had
he ever done for her? Why did the girls hate her? Come
now! what made the .folks say, "Old Bummer Smith's
Mliss ! " when she passed ? Yes ; O yes. She wished he was
dead; — she was dead, — everybody was dead; and her sobs
broke forth anew.
The master, then leaning over her, told her as well as he
could what you or I might have said after hearing such
unnatural theories from childish lips ; only bearing in mind
perhaps better than you or I the unnatural facts of her
ragged dress, her bleeding feet, and the omnipresent shadow
of her drunken father. Then, raising her to her feet, he
wrapped his shawl around her, and, bidding her come early
in the morning, he walked with her down the road. There
he bade her "good night." The moon shone brightly on the
narrow path before them. He stood and watched the bciit
little figure as it staggered down the road, and waited until
it had passed the little graveyard and reached the curve of
the hill, where it turned and stood for a moment, a mere
atom of suffering outlined against the far-off patient stars.
Then he went back to his work. But the lines of the copy
book thereafter faded into long parallels of never-ending
road, over which childish figures seemed to pass sobbing and
crying into the night. Then, the little school-house seeming
lonelier than before, he shut the door and went home.
The next morning Mliss came to school. Her face had
been washed, and her coarse black hair bore evidence of
recent struggles with the comb, in which both had evidently
suffered. The old defiant look shone occasionally in her
eyes, but her manner was tamer and more subdued. Then
began a series of little trials and self-sacrifices, in which
master and pupil bore an equal part, and which increased
the confidence and sympathy between them. Although
obedient under the master's eye, at times during the recess,
if thwarted or stung by a fancied slight, Mliss wouM rage in
MLISS. 9t
ungovernable fury, and many a palpitating young savage,
finding himself matched with his own weapons of torment,
would seek the master with torn jacket and scratched face,
and complaints of the dreadful Mliss. There was a serious
division among the townspeople on the subject; some threat
ening to withdraw their children from such evil companion
ship, and others as warmly upholding the course of the
master in his work of reclamation. Meanwhile, with a
steady persistence that seemed quite astonishing to him on
looking back afterward, the master drew Mliss gradually
out of the shadow of her past life, as though it were but her
natural progress down the narrow path on which he had set
her feet the moonlit night of their first meeting. Remem
bering the experience of the^evangelical McSnagley, he care-
folly avoided that Rock of Ages on which that unskilful
pilot had shipwrecked her young faith. But if, in the course
of her reading, she chanced to stumble upon those few words
which have lifted such as she above the level of the older,
the wiser, and the more prudent, — if she learned something
of a faith that is symbolized by suffering, and the old light
softened in her eyes, it did not take the shape of a lesson.
A few of the plainer people had made up a little sum by
which the ragged Mliss was enabled to assume the garments
of respect and civilisation; and often a rough shake of the
hand, and words of homely commendation from a red-shirted
and burly figure, sent a glow to the cheek of the young
master, and set him to thinking if it was altogether de
served.
Three months had passed from the time of their first meet
ing, and the master was sitting late one evening over the
moral and sententious copies, when there came a tap at the
door, and again Mliss stood before him. She was neatly
clad and clean-faced, and there was nothing, perhaps, but
the long black hair and bright black eyes to remind him of
bis former apparition. "Are you busy?" she asked; "can
92 MLTSS.
you come witli meT' And on his signifying his readiness,
in her old wilful way she said, "Come, then, quick."
They passed out of the door together, and into the dark
road. As they entered the town the master asked her
whither she was going. She replied, " To see my father."
It was the first time he had heard her call him by that
filial title, or indeed anything more than "Old Smith," or the
" Old Man." It was the first time in three months that she
had spoken of him at all, and the master knew she had kept
resolutely aloof from him since her great change. Satisfied
from her manner that it was fruitless to question her pur
pose, he passively followed. In out-of-the-way places, low
groggeries, restaurants, and saloons ; in gambling-hells and
dance-houses, the master, preceded by Mliss, came and went.
In the reeking smoke and blasphemous outcries of low dens,
the child, holding the master's hand, stood and anxiously
gazed, seemingly unconscious of all in the one absorbing
nature of her pursuit. Some of the revellers, recognising
Mliss, called to the child to sing and dance for them, and
would have forced liquor upon her but for the interference
of the master. Others, recognising him mutely, made way
for them to pass. So an hour slipped by. Then the child
whispered in his ear that there was a cabin on the other
side of the creek, crossed by the long flume, where she
thought he still might be. Thither they crossed, — a toilsome
half-hour's walk, but in vain. They were returning by the
ditch at the abutment of the flume, gazing at the lights of
the town on the opposite bank, when suddenly, sharply, a
quick report rang out on the clear night air. The echoes
caught it, and carried it round and round Bed Mountain, and
set the dogs to barking all along the streams. Lights seemed
to dance and move quickly on the outskirts of the town fol
a few moments, the stream rippled quite audibly beside
them, a few stones loosened themselves from the hillside, and
•Clashed into the stream, a heavy wind seemed to surge tho
MUSS. 93
branches of the funereal pines, and then the silence seemed
to fall thicker, heavier, and deadlier. The master turned
towards Mliss with ail unconscious gesture of protection, but
the child had gone. Oppressed by a strange fear, he ran
quickly down the trail to the river's bed, and, jumping from
boulder to boulder, reached the base of Eed Mountain and
the outskirts of the village. Midway of the crossing he
ooked up and held his breath in awe. For high above him,
011 the narrow flume, he saw the fluttering little figure of his
late companion crossing swiftly in the darkness.
He climbed the bank, and, guided by a few lights moving
about a central point on the mountain, soon found himself
breathless among a crowd of awe-stricken and sorrowful
men. Out from among them the child appeared, and, taking
the master's hand, led him silently before what seemed a
ragged hole in the mountain. Her face was quite white, but
her excited manner gone, and her look that of one to whom
some long-expected event had at last happened, — an expres
sion that, to the master in his bewilderment, seemed almost
like relief. The walls of the cavern were partly propped by
decaying timbers. The child pointed to what appeared to be
some ragged cast-off clothes left in the hole by the late occu
pant. The master approached nearer with his flaming dip,
and bent over them. It was Smith, already cold, with a
pistol in his hand, and a bullet in his heart, lying beside his
empty pocket.
CHAPTER II.
r~PHE opinion which McSnagley expressed in reference to a
" change of heart" supposed to be experienced by Mliss
was more forcibly described in the gulches and tunnels. It was
thought there that Mliss had "struck a good lead." So when
there was a new grave added to the little enclosure, and at
the expense of the master a little board and inscription put
94 MLISS.
above it, the Bed Mountain Banner came out quite hand
somely, and did the fair thing to the memory of one of " our
oldest Pioneers," alluding gracefully to that " bane of noble
intellects," and otherwise genteelly shelving our dear brother
with the past. " He leaves an only child to mourn his loss,"
says the Banner, " who is now an exemplary scholar, thanks
to the efforts of the Eev. Mr. McSnagley." The Rev
McSnagley, in fact, made a strong point of Mliss's conver
sion, and, indirectly attributing to the unfortunate child the
suicide of her father, made affecting allusions in Sunday-
school to the beneficial effects of the " silent tomb," and in
this cheerful contemplation drove most of the children into
speechless horror, and caused the pink-and-white scions of the
first families to howl dismally and refuse to be comforted.
The long dry summer came. As each fierce day burned
itself out in little whiffs of pearl-gray smoke on the mountain
summits, and the upspringing breeze scattered its red embers
over the landscape, the green wave which in early spring
upheaved above Smith's grave grew sere, and dry, and hard.
In those days the master, strolling in the little churchyard
of a Sabbath afternoon, was sometimes surprised to find a
few wild flowers plucked from the damp pine forest scattered
there, and oftener rude wreaths hung upon the little pine
cross. Most of these wreaths were formed of a sweet-scented
grass, which the children loved to keep in their desks, inter
twined with the plumes of the buckeye, the syringa, and the
wood anemone ; and here and there the master noticed the
dark blue cowl of the monk's-hood, or deadly aconite. There
was something in the odd association of this noxious plant
with these memorials which occasioned a painful sensation to
the master deeper than his esthetic sense. One day, during
a long walk, in crossing a wooded ridge, he came upon Mliss
in the heart of the forest, perched upon a prostrate pine, on
a fantastic throne formed by the hanging plumes of lifeless
branches, her lap full of grasses and pine-burrs, and crooning
MUSS. 95
to herself one of the negro melodies of her younger life.
Recognizing him at a distance, she made room for him on
her elevated throne, and with a grave assumption of hospi
tality and patronage that would have been ridiculous had it
not been so terribly earnest, she fed him with pine nuts and
crab-apples. The master took that opportunity to point out
to her the noxious and deadly qualities of the monk's-hood,
whose dark blossoms he saw in her lap, and extorted from
her a promise not to meddle with it as long as she remained
his pupil. This done, — as the master had tested her integrity
before, — he rested satisfied, and the strange feeling which
had overcome him on seeing them died away.
Of the homes that were offered Mliss when her conversion
became known, the master preferred that of Mrs. Morpher,
a womanly and kind-hearted specimen of south-western
efflorescence, known in her maidenhood as the " Per-rairie
Rose." Being one of those who contend resolutely against
their own natures, Mrs. Morpher, by a long series of self-
sacrifices and struggles, had at last subjugated her naturally
careless disposition to principles of " order," which she con
sidered, in common with Mr. Pope, as " Heaven's first law."
But she could not entirely govern the orbits of her satellites,
however regular her own movements, and even her own
"Jeemes" sometimes collided with her. Again her old
nature asserted itself in her children. Lycurgus dipped into
the cupboard "between meals," and Aristides came home
from school without shoes, leaving those important articles
on the threshold, for the delight of a bare-footed walk down
the ditches. Octavia and Cassandra were "keerless" of their
clothes. So with but one exception, however much the
" Prairie Rose" might have trimmed and pruned and trained
her own matured luxuriance, the little shoots came up de
fiantly wild and straggling. That one exception was Clytem-
nestra Morpher, aged fifteen. She was the realization of her
mother's immaculate conception, — neat, orderly, and dulL
06 MUSS.
It was an amiable weakness of Mrs. Mc-rpher to imagine
that " Clytie " was a consolation and model for Mliss.
Following this fallacy, Mrs. Morpher threw Clytie at the
head of Mliss when she was " bad," and set her up before
the child for adoration in her penitential moments. It was
not, therefore, surprising to the master to hear that Clytie
was coming to school, obviously as a favour to the master
and as an example for Mliss and others. For " Clytie " was
quite a young lady. Inheriting her mother's physical
peculiarities, and in obedience to the climatic laws of the
Red Mountain region, she was an early bloomer. The
youth of " Smith's Pocket," to whom this kind of flower
was rare, sighed for her in April and languished in May.
Enamoured swains haunted the school-house at the hour of
dismissal. A few were jealous of the master.
Perhaps it was this latter circumstance that opened the
master's eyes to another. He could not help noticing that
Clytie was romantic ; that in school she required a great
deal of attention ; that her pens were uniformly bad and
wanted fixing ; that she usually accompanied the request
with a certain expectation in her eye that was somewhat
disproportionate to tHe quality of service she verbally re
quired ; that she sometimes allowed the curves of a round,
plump white arm to rest on his when he was writing her
copies ; that she always blushed and flung back her blond
curls when she did so. I don't remember whether I have
stated that the master was a young man, — it's of little con
sequence, however ; he had been severely educated in the
school in which Clytie was taking her first lesson, and, on
the whole, withstood the flexible curves and factitious glance
like the fine young Spartan that he was. Perhaps an in
sufficient quality of food may have tended to this asceticism.
He generally avoided Clytie ; but one evening when she
returned to the school-house after something she had for
gotten, and did not find it until the master walked homo
MLISS. 97
•with her. I hear that he endeavoured to make himself
particularly agreeable, — partly from the fact, I imagine, that
his conduct was adding gall and bitterness to the already
overcharged hearts of Clytemnestra's admirers.
The morning after this affecting episode Mliss did not
come to school. Noon came, but not Mliss. Question
ing Clytie on the subject, it appeared that they had left for
school together, but the wilful Mliss had taken another road.
The afternoon brought her not. In the evening he called on
Mrs. Morpher, whose motherly heart was really alarmed.
Mr. Morpher had spent all day in search of her, without
discovering a trace that might lead to her discovery.
Aristides was summoned as a probable accomplice, but
that equitable infant succeeded in impressing the household
with his innocence. Mrs. Morpher entertained a vivid im
pression that the child would yet be found drowned in a
ditch, or, what was almost as terrible, muddied and soiled
beyond the redemption of soap and water. Sick at heart,
the master returned to the school-house. As he lit his lamp
and seated himself at his desk, he found a note lying before
him addressed to himself, in Mliss's handwriting. It seemed
to be written on a leaf torn from some old memorandum-
book, and to prevent sacrilegious trifling, had been sealed
with six broken wafers. Opening it almost tenderly, the
master read as follows : —
RESPECTED SIR, — When you read this, I am run away.
Never to come back. Never, NEVER, NEYER. You can
give my beeds to Mary Jennings, and my Amerika's Pride
[a highly-coloured lithograph from a tobacco-box] to Sally
Flanders. But don't you give anything to Clytie Morpher.
Don't you dare to. Do you know what my opinion is of
her, it is this, she is perfekly disgustin. That is all and no
more at present from
Yours respectfully,
MELISSA S
98 MLISS.
The master sat pondering on this strange epistle till the
moon lifted its bright face above the distant hills, and
illuminated the trail that led to the school-house, beaten
quite hard with the coming and going of little feet. Then,
more satisfied in mind, he tore the missive into fragments
and scattered them along the road.
At sunrise the next morning he was picking his way-
through the palm-like fern and thick underbrush of the
pine-forest, starting the hare from its form, and awakening a
querulous protest from a few dissipated crows, who had
evidently been making a night of it, and so came to the
wooded ridge where he had once found Mliss. There he
found the prostrate pine and tasselled branches, but the
throne was vacant. As he drew nearer, what might have
been some frightened animal started through the crackling
limbs. It ran up the tossed arms of the fallen monarch,
and sheltered itself in some friendly foliage. The master,
reaching the old seat, found the nest still warm ; looking
up in the intertwining branches, he met the black eyes of
the errant Mliss. They gazed at each other without
speaking. She was the first to break the silence.
" What do you want ] " she asked curtly.
The master had decided on a course of action. " I want
some crab-apples," he said, humbly.
" Shan't have 'em ; go away. Why don't you get 'cm of
Cly temnerestera 1 " (It seemed to be a relief to Mliss to
express her contempt in additional syllables to that classical
young woman's already long-drawn title.) " O you wicked
thing!"
"I am hungry, Lizzy. I have eaten noting since
dinner yesterday. I am famished ! " and the young man,
in a state of remarkable exhaustion, leaned against the
<ree.
Melissa's heart was touched. In the bitter days of hei
gipsy life she had known the sensation he so artfully
JlfL/SS. 99
simulated. Overcome by his heart-broken tone, but not
entirely divested of suspicion, she said, —
"Dig under the tree near .the roots, and you'll find lots ;
but mind you don't tell," for Mliss had her hoards as well
as the rats and squirrels.
But the master, of course, was unable to find them ; the
effects of hunger probably blinding his senses. Mliss grew
uneasy. At length she peered at him through the leaves in
an elfish way, and questioned, —
" If I come down and give you some, you'll promise you
won't touch me ? "
The master promised.
" Hope you'll die if you do ! "
The master accepted instant dissolution as a forfeit.
Mliss slid down the tree. For a few moments nothing
transpired but the munching of the pine-nuts. " Do you
feel better?" she asked, with some solicitude. The master
confessed to a recuperated feeling, and then, gravely thank
ing her, proceeded to retrace his steps. As he expected, he
had not gone far before she called him. He turned. She
was standing there quite white, with tears in her widely-
opened orbs. The master felt that the right moment had
come. Going up to her, he took both her hands, and, look
ing in her tearful eyes, said, gravely, " Lissy, do^ you
remember the first evening you came to see me ?"
Lissy remembered.
" You asked me if you might come to school, for you
wanted to learn something and be better, and I said "
" Come," responded the child, promptly.
" What would you say if the master now came to you
and said that he was lonely without his little scholar, and
that he wanted her to come and teach him to be better ?"
The child hung her head for a few moments in silence.
The master waited patiently. Tempted by the quiet, a
hare ran close to the couple, and raising her bright eyes and
H 2
loo MLISS.
velvet forepaws, sat and gazed at them. A squirrel ran
half-way down the furrowed bark of the fallen tree, and
There stopped.
"We are waiting, Lissy," said the master, in a whisper,
and the child smiled. Stirred by a passing breeze, the tree-
tops rocked, and a long pencil of light stole through their
interlaced boughs full on the doubting face and irresolute
little figure. Suddenly she took the master's hand in her
quick way. What she said was scarcely audible, but the
master, putting the black hair back from her forehead, kissed
her ; and so, hand in hand, they passed out of the damp
aisles and forest odours into the open sunlit road.
CHAPTER III.
O OMEWHAT less spiteful in her intercourse with other
scholars, Mliss still retained an offensive attitude in
regard to Clytemnestra. Perhaps the jealous element was
not entirely lulled in her passionate little breast. Perhaps it
was only that the round curves and plump outline offered
more extended pinching surface. But while such ebullitions
were under the master's control, her enmity occasionally
took a new and irrepressible form.
The master in his first estimate of the child's character
could not conceive that she had ever possessed a doll. But
the master, like many other professed readers of character,
was safer in & posteriori than ci priori reasoning. Mliss had
a doll, but then it was emphatically Mliss's doll, — a smaller
copy of herself. Its unhappy existence had been a secret
discovered accidentally by Mrs. Morpher. It had been the
old-time companion of Mliss's wanderings, and bore evident
marks of suffering. Its original complexion was long since
washed away by the weather and anointed by the slime of
ditches. It looked very much as Mliss had in days past.
MLISS. 101
Its one gown of faded stuff was dirty and ragged as hers had
been. Mliss had never been known to apply to it any
childish term of endearment She never exhibited it in the
presence of other children. It was put severely to bed in a
hollow tree near the school-house, and only allowed exercise
during Mliss's rambles. Fulfilling a stern duty to her doll,
as she would to herself, it knew no luxuries.
Now Mrs. Morpher, obeying a commendable impulse,
bought another doll and gave it to Mliss. The child received
it gravely and curiously. The master, on looking at it one
day, fancied he saw a slight resemblance in its round red
cheeks and mild blue eyes to Clytemnestra. It became
evident before long that Mliss had also noticed the same
resemblance. Accordingly she hammered its waxen head
on the rocks when she Avas alone, and sometimes dragged it
with a string round its neck to and from school. At other
times, setting it up on her desk, she made a pin-cushion of
its patient and inoffensive body. Whether this was done in
revenge of what she considered a second figurative obtrusion
of Clytie's excellences upon her, or whether she had an
intuitive appreciation of the rites of certain other heathens,
and, indulging in that "Fetish," ceremony, imagined that
the original of her wax model would pine away and finally
die, is a metaphysical question I shall not now consider.
In spite of these moral vagaries, the master could not help
noticing in her different tasks the working of a quick, restless,
and vigorous perception. She knew neither the hesitancy
nor the doubts of childhood. Her answers in class were
always slightly dashed with audacity. Of course she was
not infallible. But her courage and daring in passing
beyond her own depth and that of the floundering little
swimmers around her, in their minds outw^ighed all errors
of judgment. Children are not better than grown people in
this respect, I fancy; and whenever the little red hand
flashed above her desk, there was a wondering silence, and
102 MLISS.
even, the master was sometimes oppressed with a doubt of nls
own experience and judgment.
Nevertheless, certain attributes which at first amused and
entertained his fancy began to afflict him with grave doubts.
He could not but see that Mliss was revengeful, irreverent,
and wilful. That there was but one better quality which
pertained to her semi-savage disposition, — the faculty of
physical fortitude and self-sacrifice, and another, though not
always an attribute of the noble savage, — Truth. Mliss was
both fearless and sincere ; perhaps in such a character the
adjectives were synonymous.
The master had been doing some hard thinking on this
subject, and had arrived at that conclusion quite common to
all who think sincerely, that he was generally the slave of
his own prejudices, when he determined to call on the
Rev. McSnagley for advice. This decision was somewhat
humiliating to his pride, as he and McSnagley were not
friends. But he thought of Mliss, and the evening of their
first meeting ; and perhaps with a pardonable superstition
that it was not chance alone that had guided her wilful
feet to the school-house, and perhaps with a complacent
consciousness of the rare magnanimity of the act, he choked
back his dislike and went to McSnagley.
The reverend gentleman was glad to see him. Moreover,
he observed that the master was looking "peartish," and
hoped he had got over the " neuralgy " and " rheumatiz."
He himself had been troubled with a dumb "ager" since
last conference. But he had learned to "rastle and pray."
Pausing a moment to enable the master to write his
certain method of curing the dumb " ager " upon the book
and volume of his brain, Mr. McSnagley proceeded to inquire
after Sister Morpher. " She is an adornment to Christianity,
and has a likely growin' young family," added Mr.
McSnagley ; "and there's that mannerly young gal, — so
well behaved, — Miss Clyde." In fact, Clytie's perfections
AfLISS. 103
seemed to affect him to such an extent that he dwelt
for several minutes upon them. The master was doubly
embarrassed. In the first place, there was an enforced
contrast with poor Mliss in all this praise of Olytie.
Secondly, there was something unpleasantly confidential in
his tone of speaking of Mrs. Morpher's earliest born. So
that the master, after a few futile efforts to say something
natural, found it convenient to recall another engagement,
and left without asking the information required, but in his
after reflections somewhat unjustly giving the Rev. Mr.
McSnagley the full benefit of having refused it.
Perhaps this rebuff placed the master and pupil once
more in the close communion of old. The child seemed to
notice the change in the master's manner, which had of late
been constrained, and in one of their long post-prandial
walks she stopped suddenly, and, mounting a stump, looked
full in his face with big, searching eyes. " You ain't mad ? "
said she, with an interrogative shake of the black braids.
"No." "Nor bothered?" "No." "Nor hungry!"
(Hunger was to Mliss a sickness that might attack a person
at any moment.) " No." " Nor thinking of her ? " " Of
whom, Lissy?" " That white girl." (This was the latest
epithet invented by Mliss, who was a very dark brunette, to
express Clyteninestra.) "No." " Upon your word V (A
substitute for " Hope you'll die ! " proposed by the master.)
" Yes." " And sacred honour ? " " Yes." Then Mliss gave
him a fierce little kiss, and, hopping down, fluttered off. For
two or three days after that she condescended to appear
more like other children, and be, as she expressed it,
"good."
Two years had passed since the master's advent at Smith's
Pocket, and as his salary was not large, and the prospects of
Smith's Pocket eventually becoming the capital of the State
not entirely definite, he contemplated a change. He had
informed the school trustees privately of his intentions,
io4 MLISS.
educated young men of unblemished moral character being
scarce at that time, he consented to continue his school .term
through the winter to early spring. None else knew of his
intention except his one friend, a Dr. Duchesne, a young
Creole physician known to the people of Wingdam as
" Duchesny." He never mentioned it to Mrs. Morpher, Clytie,
or any of his scholars. His reticence was partly the result
of a constitutional indisposition to fuss, partly a desire to
be spared the questions and surmises of vulgar curiosity, and
partly that he never really believed he was going to do
anything before it was done.
He did not like to think of Mliss. It was a selfish
instinct, perhaps, which made him try to fancy his feeling
for the child was foolish, romantic, and unpractical. He
even tried to imagine that she would do better under the
control of an older and sterner teacher. Then she was
nearly eleven, and in a few years, by the rules of Red
Mountain, would be a woman. He had done his duty.
After Smith's death he addressed letters to Smith's relatives,
and received one answer from a sister of Melissa's mother.
Thanking the master, she stated her intention of leaving the
Atlantic States for California with her husband in a few
months. This was a slight superstructure for the airy castle
which the master pictured for Mliss's house, but it was easy
to fancy that some loving sympathetic woman, with the
claims of kindred, might better guide her wayward nature.
Yet, when the master had read the letter, Mliss listened to
it carelessly, received it submissively, and afterwards cut
figures out of it with her scissors, supposed to represent
Clytemnestra, labelled " the white girl," to prevent mistakes,
and impaled them upon the outer walls of the school-house.
When the summer was about spent, and the last harvest
had been gathered in the valleys, the master bethought him
of gathering in a few ripened shoots of the young idea, and
of having his Harvest-Home, or Examination. So the savana
MUSS. 105
and professionals of Smith's Pocket were gathered to witness
that time-honoured custom of placing timid children in a
constrained position, and bullying them as in a witness-box.
As usual in such cases, the most audacious and self-possessed
were the lucky recipients of the honours. The reader will
imagine that in the present instance Mliss and Clytie were
pre-eminent, and divided public attention j Mliss with her
clearness of material perception and self-reliance, Clytie
with her placid self-esteem and saint-like correctness of
deportment. The other little ones were timid and blundering.
Mliss's readiness and brilliancy, of course, captivated the
greatest number and provoked the greatest applause. Mliss's
antecedents had unconsciously awakened the strongest
sympathies of a class whose athletic forms were ranged
against the walls, or whose handsome bearded faces looked
in at the windows. But Mliss's popularity was overthrown
by an unexpected circumstance.
McSnagley had invited himself, and had been going
through the pleasing entertainment of frightening the more
timid pupils by the vaguest and most ambiguous questions
delivered in an impressive funereal tone; and Mliss had
soared into Astronomy, and was tracking the course of our
spotted ball through space, and keeping time with the
music of the spheres, and denning the tethered orbits of the
planets, when McSnagley impressively arose. " Meelissy !
ye were speaking of the revolutions of this yere yearth
and the move-mewte of the sun, and I think ye said it had
been a-doing of it since the creashun, eh ? " Mliss nodded
a scornful affirmative. " Well, war that the truth ? " said
McSnagley, folding his arms. " Yes," said Mliss, shutting up
her little red lips tightly. The handsome outlines at the
windows peered further in the school-room, and a saintly
Raphael-face, with blond beard and soft blue eyes, belonging
to the biggest scamp in the diggings, turned toward the
child and whispered, " Stick to it Mliss ! " The reverend
loo MLISS.
gentleman heaved a deep sigh, and cast a compassionate
glance at the master, then at the children, and then rested
his look on Clytie. That young woman softly elevated her
round, white arm. Its seductive curves were enhanced by
a gorgeous and massive specimen bracelet, the gift of one of
her humblest worshippers, worn in honour of the occasion.
There was a momentary silence. Clytie's round cheeks were
very pink and soft. Clytie's big eyes were very bright and
blue. Olytie's low-necked white book-muslin rested softly
on Clytie's white, plump shoulders. Clytie looked at
the master, and the master nodded. Then Clytie spoke
softly : —
" Joshua commanded the sun to stand still, and it obeyed
him ! " There was a low hum of applause in. the school
room, a triumphant expression on McSnagley's face, a grave
shadow on the master's, and a comical look of disappoint
ment reflected from the windows. Mliss skimmed rapidly
over her Astronomy, and then shut the book with a loud
snap. A groan burst from McSnagley, an expression ot
astonishment from the school-room, a yell from the windows,
as Mliss brought her red fist down on the desk, with the
emphatic declaration,
« It's a d— n lie. I don't believe it ! "
CHAPTER IV.
•
r"PHE long wet season had drawn near its close. Signs of
~*- spring were visible in the swelling buds and rushing
torrents. The pine-forests exhaled the fresher spicery. The
azaleas were already budding, the Ceanothus getting ready its
lilac livery for spring. On the green upland which climbed
Red Mountain at its southern aspect the long spike of the
monk's-hood shot up from its broad-leaved stool, and onca
more shook its dark-blue bells. Again the billow abovo
MUSS. 107
Smith's grave was soft and green, its crest just tossed with
the foam of daisies and buttercups. The little graveyard
had gathered a few new dwellers in the past year, and the
mounds were placed two by two by the little paling uiitiJ
they reached Smith's grave, and there there was but one.
General superstition had shunned it, and the plot beside
Smith was vacant.
There had been several placards posted about the town,
intimating that, at a certain period, a celebrated dramatic
company would perform, for a few days, a series of " side
splitting " and " screaming farces ; " that, alternating plea
santly with this, there would be some melodrama and a
grand divertisement, which would include singing, dancing,
&c. These announcements occasioned a great fluttering
among the little folk, and were the theme of much excite
ment and great speculation among the master's scholars.
The master had promised Mliss, to whom this sort of thing
was sacred and rare, that she should go, and on that momen
tous evening the master and Mliss " assisted."
The performance was the prevalent style of heavy medio
crity ; the melodrama was not bad enough to laugh at nor
good enough to excite. But the master, turning wearily to
the child, was astonished, and felt something like self-accu
sation in noticing the peculiar effect upon her excitable
nature. The red blood flushed in her cheeks at each stroke
of her panting little heart. Her small passionate lips were
slightly parted to give vent to her hurried breath. Her widely
opened lids threw up and arched her black eyebrows. She
did not laugh at the dismal comicalities of the funny man,
for Mliss seldom laughed. Nor was she discreetly affected
to the delicate extremes of the corner of a white hanclker
chief, as was the tender-hearted " Clytie," who was talking
with her "feller" and ogling the master at the same mo
ment. But when the performance was over, and the green
curtain fell on the little stage, Mliss drew a long deep
io$ MLISS.
breath, and turned to the master's grave face with a half-
apologetic smile and wearied gesture. Then she said,
"Now take me home ! " and dropped the lids of her
black eyes, as if to dwell once more in fancy on the mimic
stage.
On their way to Mrs. Morpher's, the master thought
proper to ridicule the whole performance. Now he shouldn't
wonder if Mliss thought that the young lady who acted
so beautifully was really in earnest, and in love with the
gentleman who wore such fine clothes. Well, if she
were in love with him, it was a very unfortunate thing !
" Why 1 " said Mliss, with an upward sweep of the drooping
lid. " Oh ! well, he couldn't support his wife at his present
salary, and pay so much a week for his fine clothes, and then
they wouldn't receive as much wages if they were married
as if they were merely lovers — that is," added the master,
" if they are not already married to somebody else ; but I
think the husband of the pretty young countess takes the
tickets at the door, or pulls up the curtain, or snuffs the
candles, or does something equally refined and elegant. As
to the young man with nice clothes, which are really nice
now, and must cost at least two and a half or three dollars,
not to speak of that mantle of red drugget which I happen
to know the price of, for I bought some of it for my room
once ; as to this young man, Lissy, he is a pretty good
fellow, and if he does drink occasionally, I don't think people
ought to take advantage of it and give him black eyes and
throw him in the mud. Do you 1 I am sure he might owe
me two dollars and a half a long time, before I would throw-
it tip in his face, as the fellow did the other night at Wing-
dam."
Mliss had taken his hand in both of hers and was trying
to look in his eyes, which the young man kept as resolutely
averted. Mliss had a faint idea of irony, indulging herself
sometimes in a species of sardonic humour, which was
MLISS. 109
equally visible in her actions and her speech. But the
young man continued in this strain until they had reached
Mrs. Morpher's, and he had deposited Mliss in her maternal
charge. Waiving the invitation of Mrs. Morpher to refresh-
men b and rest, and shading his eyes with his hand to keep
out the blue-eyed Clytemnestra's siren glances, he excused
himself, and went home.
For two or three days after the advent of the dramatic
company, Mliss was late at school, and the master's usual
Friday afternoon ramble was for once omitted, owing to the
absence of his trustworthy guide. As he was putting away
his books and preparing to leave the school-house, a small
voice piped at his side, " Please, sir 1 " The master turned,
and there stood Aristides Morpher.
""Well, my little man," said the master, impatiently,
" what is it 1 quick ! "
" Please, sir, me and ' Kerg ' thinks that Mliss is going to
run away agin."
"What's that, sir?" said the master, with that unjust
testiness with which we always receive disagreeable news.
" Why, sir, she don't stay home any more, and ' Kerg '
and me see her talking with one of those actor fellers, and
she's with him now j and please, sir, yesterday she told
* Kerg ' and me she could make a speech as well as Miss
Cellerstina Montmoressy, and she spouted right off by heart,"
and the little fellow paused in a collapsed condition.
u What actor 1 " asked the master.
" Him as wears the shiny hat. And hair. And gold
pin. And gold chain," said the just Aristides, putting
periods for commas to eke out his breath.
The master put on his gloves and hat, feeling an unplea
sant tightness in his chest and thorax, and walked out in
the road. Aristides trotted along by his side, endeavouring
to keep pace with his short legs to the master's strides,
when the master stopped suddenly, and Aristides bumped
i io MLISS.
up against him. "Where were they talking I1* asked the
master, as if continuing the conversation.
"At the Arcade," said Aristides.
When they reached the main street the master paused.
" Run down home," said he to the boy. " If Mliss is there,
come to the Arcade and tell me. If she isn't there, stay
home j run ! " And off trotted the short-legged Aris
tides.
The Arcade was just across the way — a long rambling
building, containing a bar-room, billiard-room, and restau
rant. As the young man crossed the plaza he noticed that
two or three of the passers-by turned and looked after him.
He looked at his clothes, took out his handkerchief and
wiped his face, before he entered the bar-room. It contained
the usual number of loungers, who stared at him as he en
tered. One of them looked at him so fixedly and with such
a strange expression, that the master stopped and looked
again, and then saw it was only his own reflection in a large
mirror. This made the master think that perhaps he was
a little excited, and so he took up a copy of the Red Moun
tain Banner from one of the tables, and tried to recover his
composure by reading the column of advertisements.
He then walked through the bar-room, through the res
taurant, and into the billiard -room. The child was not
there. In the latter apartment a person was standing by
one of the tables with a broad-brimmed glazed hat on his
head. The master recognized him as the agent of the dra
matic company ; he had taken a dislike to him at their first
meeting, from the peculiar fashion of wearing his beard and
hair. Satisfied that the object of his search was not there,
he turned to the man with a glazed hat. He had noticed
the master, but tried that common trick of unconsciousness,
in which vulgar natures always fail. Balancing a billiard
cue in his hand, he pretended to play with a ball in the
centre of the table. The master stood opposite to him until
MLISS. ill
he raised his eyes ; when their glances met, the master
walked up to him.
He had intended to avoid a scene or quarrel, but when
he began to speak, something kept rising in his throat and
retarded his utterance, and his own voice frightened him,
it sounded so distant, low, and resonant. *'I understand,"
he began, " that Melissa Smith, an orphan, and one of my
scholars, has talked with you about adopting your profession.
Is that so ?"
The man with the glazed hat leaned over the table, and
made an imaginary shot, that sent the ball spinning round
the cushions. Then walking round the table he recovered
the ball, and placed it upon the spot. This duty discharged,
getting ready for another shot, he said, —
" S'pose she has 1 "
The master choked up again, but, squeezing the cushion
of the table in his gloved hand, he went on : —
" If you are a gentleman, I have only to tell you that I
am her guardian, and responsible for her career. You know
as well as I do the kind of life you offer her. As you may
learn of any one here, I have already brought her out of an
existence worse than death, — out of the streets and the con
tamination of vice. I am trying to do so again. Let us talk
like men. She has neither father, mother, sister, or brother.
Are you seeking to give her an equivalent for these ? "
The man with the glazed hat examined the point of his
cue, and then looked around for somebody to enjoy the joke
with him.
" I know that she is a strange, wilful girl," continued the
master, "but she is better than she was. I believe that I
have some influence over her still. I beg and hope, there
fore, that you will take no further steps in this matter,
but as a man, as a gentleman, leave her to me. I am
Billing " But here something rose again in the master' a
throat, and the sentence remained unfinished*
112 MUSS.
The man with the glazed hat, mistaking the master's
silence, raised his head with a coarse, brutal laugh, and said
in a loud voice, —
" Want her yourself, do you 1 That cock won't fight here,
young man ! "
The insult was more in the tone than the words, more in
the glance than tone, and more in the man's instinctive
nature than all these. The best appreciable rhetoric to this
kind of animal is a blow. The master *felt this, and with
his pent-up, nervous energy finding expression in the one
act, he struck the brute fall in his grinning face. The blow
sent the glazed hat one way and the cue another, and tore
the glove and skin from the master's hand from knuckle to
joint. It opened up the corners of the fellow's mouth, and
spoilt the peculiar shape of his beard for some time to come.
There was a shout, an imprecation, a scuffle, and the
trampling of many feet. Then the crowd parted right and
left, and two sharp quick reports followed each other in
rapid succession. Then they closed again about his opponent,
and the master was standing alone. He remembered picking
bits of burning wadding from his coat-sleeve with his left
hand. Some one was holding his other hand. Looking at it,
he saw it was still bleeding from the blow, but his fingers
were clenched around the handle of a glittering knife. He
could not remember when or how he got it.
The man who was holding his hand was Mr. Morpher.
He hurried the master to the door, but the master held back,
and tried to tell him as well as he could with his parched
throat about " Mliss." " It's all right, my boy," said Mr.
Morpher. "She's home ! " And they passed out into the street
together. As they walked along Mr. Morpher said that
Mliss had come running into the house a few moments before,
and had dragged him out, saying that somebody was trying
to kill the master at the Arcade. Wishing to be alone, the
master promised Mr. Morpher that he would not seek the
MLISS. 113
Agent again that night, and parted from him, taking the
road toward the school-house. He was surprised in nearing
it to find the door open, — still more surprised to find Mliss
sitting there.
The master's nature, as I have hinted before, had, like
most sensitive organizations, a selfish basis. The brutal
taunt thrown out by his late adversary still rankled in his
heart. It was possible, he thought, that such a construc
tion might be put upon his affection for the child, which at
best was foolish and Quixotic. Besides, had she not volun
tarily abnegated his authority and affection? And what
had everybody else said about her 1 Why should he alone
combat the opinion of all, and be at last obliged tacitly to
confess the truth of all they had predicted ? And he had
been a participant in a low bar-room fight with a common
boor, and risked his life, to prove what ? What had he
proved ? Nothing ! What would the people say 1 What
would his friends say ? What would McSnagley say ?
In his self-accusation the Ja?t person he should have
wished to meet was Mliss. He entered the door, and, going
up to his desk told the child, in a few cold words, that he
was busy, and wished to be alone. As she rose he took her
vacant seat, and, sitting down, buried his head in his hands.
When he looked up again she was still standing there. She
was looking at his face with an anxious expression.
" Did you kill him ? " she asked.
"No ! " said the master.
" That's what I gave you the knife for ! " said the child,
quickly.
"Gave me the knife?" repeated the master, in bewilderment.
" Yes, gave you the knife. I was there under the bar.
Saw you hit him. Saw you both fall. He dropped his old
knife. I gave it to you. Why didn't you stick him I " said
Mliss, rapidly, with an expressive twinkle of the black eyes
and a gesture of the little red hand.
I
114 MLTSS.
The master could only look his astonishment.
"Yes," said Mliss. "If you'd asked me, I'd told you I was
off with the play-actors. Why was I off with the play
actors ? Because you wouldn't tell me you was going away.
I knew it. I heard you tell the Doctor so. I wasn't
a-going to stay here alone with those Morpher's. I'd rather
die first."
With a dramatic gesture which was perfectly consistent
with her character, she drew from her bosom a few limp
green leaves, and, holding them out at arm's length, said in
her quick vivid way, and in the queer pronunciation of her
old life, which she fell into when unduly excited, —
" That's the poison plant you said would kill me. I'll go
with the play-actors, or I'll eat this and die here. I don't
care which. I won't stay here, where they hate and des
pise me ! Neither would you let me, if you didn't hate and
despise me too ! "
The passionate lit tie breast heaved, and two big tears
peeped over the edge of Mliss's eyelids, but she whisked
them away with the corner of her apron as if they had been
wasps.
" If you lock me up in jail," said Mliss fiercely, "to keep
me from the play-actors, I'll poison myself. Father killed
himself, — why shouldn't I ? You said a mouthful of that
root would kill nie, and I always carry it here," and she
struck her breast with her clenched fist.
The master thought of the vacant plot beside Smith's
gr£9e, and of the passionate little figure before him. Seizing
her hands in his and looking full into her truthful eyes,
he said, —
" Lissy, will you go with me ? "
The child put her arms around his neck, and said, joyfully,
«• fces."
* 'But now — to-night 1 *
"To-night."
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER. 115
And, hand in hand, they passed into ^he road, — the
narrow road that had once brought her weary feet to the
master's door, and which it seemed she should not tread
again alone. The stars glittered brightly above them. For
good or ill the lesson had been learned, and behind them the
school of Red Mountain closed upon them for ever.
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER.
npHE year of grace 1797 passed away on the coast of
California in a south-westerly gale. The little bay
of San Carlos, albeit sheltered by the headlands of the
blessed Trinity, was rough and turbulent ; its foam clung
quivering to the seaward wall of the Mission garden ; the
air was filled with flying sand and spume, and as the Senor
Comandante, Hermenegildo Salvatierra, looked from the
deep embrasured window of the Presidio guard room, he
felt the salt breath of the distant sea buffet a colour into
his smoke-dried cheeks.
The Commander, I have said, was gazing thoughtfully
from the window of the guard-room. He may have been
reviewing the events of the year now about to pass away.
But, like the garrison at the Presidio, there was little to re
view j the year, like its predecessors, had been uneventful, —
the days had slipped by in a delicious monotony of simple
duties, unbroken by incident or interruption. The regularly
recurring feasts and saints' days, the half-yearly courier from
San Diego, the rare transport-ship and rarer foreign vessel,
were the mere details of his patriarchal life. If there was
no achievement, there was certainly no failure. Abundant
harvests and patient industry amply supplied the wants of
Presidio and Mission. Isolated from the family of nations,
the wars which shook the world concerned them not so much
I 2
Ii6 THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER
as tlie latest earthquake ; the struggle that emancipated
their sister colonies on the other side of the continent to
them had no suggestiveness. In short, it was that glorious
Indian summer of California history, around which so much
poetical haze still lingers, — that bland, indolent autumn of
Spanish rule, so soon to be followed by the wintry storms of
Mexican independence and the reviving spring of American
conquest.
The Commander turned from the window and walked
toward the fire that burned brightly on the deep oven-like
hearth. A pile of copy-books, the work of the Presidio
school, lay on the table. As he turned over the leaves with
a paternal interest, and surveyed the fair round Scripture-
text, — the first pious pot-hooks of the pupils of San Carlos,
— an audible commentary fell from his lips : " ' Abimelech
took her from Abraham ' — ah, little one, excellent ! — ' Jacob
sent to see his brother ' — body of Christ ! that up-stroke of
thine, Paquita, is marvellous ; the Governor shall see it ! "
A film of honest pride dimmed the Commander's left eye, —
the right, alas ! twenty years before had been sealed by an
Indian arrow. He rubbed it softly with the sleeve of his
leather jacket, and continued : " * The Ishmaelites having
arrived '"
He stopped, for there was a step in the court-yard, a foot
upon the threshold, and a stranger entered. With the
instinct of an old soldier, the Commander, after one glance
at the intruder, turned quickly toward the wall, where his
trusty Toledo hung, or should have been hanging. But it
was not there, and as he recalled the last time he had seen
that weapon it was being ridden up and down the gallery by
Pepito, the infant son of Bautista, the tortilio-maker, he
blushed and then contented himself with frowning upon the
intruder.
But the stranger's air, though irreverent, was decidedly
peaceful. He was unarmed, and wore the ordinary cape of
THE RIGHT EYE ?F THE COMMANDER. 117
tarpaulin and sea-boots of a mariner. Except a villanous
smell of codfish, there was little about him that was pe
culiar.
His name, as he informed the Commander, in Spanish
that was more fluent than elegant or precise, — his name was
Pcleg Scudder. He was master of the schooner General
Court, of the port of Salem, in Massachusetts, on a trading
voyage to the South Seas, but now driven by stress of
weather into the bay of San Carlos. He begged permission
to ride out the gale under the headlands of the blessed
Trinity, and no more. Water he did not need, having taken
in a supply at Bodega. He knew the strict surveillance of
the Spanish port regulations in regard to foreign vessels, and
would do nothing against the severe discipline and good
order of the settlement. There was a slight tinge of sar
casm in his tone as he glanced toward the desolate parade-
ground of the Presidio and the open unguarded gate. The
fact was that the sentry, Felipe Gomez, had discreetly retired
to shelter at the beginning of the storm, and was then sound
asleep in the corridor.
The Commander hesitated. The port regulations were
severe, but he was accustomed to exercise individual au
thority, and beyond an old order issued ten years before,
regarding the American ship Columbia, there was no prece
dent to guide him. The storm was severe, and a sentiment
of humanity urged him to grant the stranger's request. It
is but just to the Commander to say, that his inabilily to en
force a refusal did not weigh with his decision. He would
have denied with equal disregard of consequences that right
to a seventy-four gun ship which he now yielded so grace
fully to this Yankee trading schooner. He stipulated only,
that there should be no communication between the ship and
shore. " For yourself, Seiior Captain," he continued, "accept
my hospitality. The fort is yours as long as you shall
grace it with your distinguished presence ; " and with old-
:i8 THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER.
fashioned courtesy, lie made the semblance of withdrawing
from the guard-room.
Master Peleg Scudder smiled as he thought of the half-
dismantled fort, the two mouldy brass cannon, cast in Manila
a century previous, and the shiftless garrison. A wild
thought of accepting the Commander's offer literally, con
ceived in the reckless spirit of a man who never let slip an
offer for trade, for a moment filled his brain, but a timely
reflection of the commercial unimportance of the transaction
checked him. He only took a capacious quid of tobacco, as
the Commander gravely drew a settle before the fire, and in
honour of his guest untied the black silk handkerchief that
bound his grizzled brows.
What passed between Salvatierra and his guest that night
it becomes me not, as a grave chronicler of the salient points
of history, to relate. I have said that Master Peleg Scudder
was a flueut talker, and under the influence of divers strong
waters, furnished by his host, he became still more loqua
cious. And think of a man with a twenty years' budget of
gossip ! The Commander learned, for the first time, how
Great Britain lost her colonies ; of the French Revolution;
of the great Napoleon, whose achievements, perhaps, Peleg
coloured more highly than the Commander's superiors would
have liked. And when Peleg turned questioner, the Com
mander was at his mercy. He gradually made himself
master of the gossip of the Mission and Presidio, the
"small-beer" chronicles of the pastoral age, the conversion
of the heathen, the Presidio schools, and even asked the
Commander how he had lost his eye ! It is said that at
this point of the conversation Master Peleg produced from
about his person divers small trinkets, kick-shaws and new
fangled trifles, and even forced some of them upon his
host. It is further alleged that under the malign influence
of Peleg and several glasses of aguardiente, the Com
mander lost somewhat of his decorum, and behaved in a
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER. 119
manner unseemly for one in his position, reciting high-flown
Spanish poetry, and even piping in a thin, high voice, divers
madrigals and heathen canzonets of an amorous complexion ;
chiefly in regard to a " little one " who was his, the Com
mander's, " soul ! " These allegations, perhaps unworthy
the notice of a serious chronicler, should be received with
great caution, and are introduced here as simple hearsay.
That the Commander, however, took a handkerchief, and
attempted to show his guest the mysteries of the sembi
cuacua, capering in an agile but indecorous manner about
the apartment, has been denied. Enough for the puposes of
this narrative, that at midnight Peleg assisted his host to
bed with many protestations of undying friendship, and
then, as the gale had abated, took his leave of the Presidio
and hurried aboard the General Court. When the day broke
the ship was gone.
I know not if Peleg kept his word with his host. It is
said that the holy fathers at the Mission that night heard
a loud chanting in the plaza, as of the heathens singing
psalms through their noses j that for many days after an
odour of salt codfish prevailed in the settlement; that a
dozen hard nutmegs, which were unfit for spice or seed,
were found in the possession of the wife of the baker, and
that several bushels of shoe-pegs, which bore a pleasing
resemblance to oats, but were quite inadequate to the pur
poses of provender, were discovered in the stable of the
blacksmith. But when the reader reflects upon the sacred-
ness of a Yankee trader's word, the stringent discipline of
the Spanish port regulations, and the proverbial indispo
sition of my countrymen to impose upon the confidence of
a simple people, he will at once rejeci this part of the
ttory.
A roll of drums, ushering in the year 1798, awoke the
Commander. The sun was shining brightly, and the storm
120 THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER.
had ceased. He sat up in bed, and through the force of
habit rubbed his left eye. As the remembrance of tho
previous night came back to him, he jumped from his couch
and ran to the window. There was no ship in the bay. A
sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he rubbed both of
his eyes. Not content with this, he consulted the metallic
mirror which hung beside his crucifix. There was no
mistake ; the Commander had a visible second eye, — a
right one, — as good, save for the purposes of vision, as the
left.
Whatever might have been the true secret of this trans
formation, but one opinion prevailed at San Carlos. It was
one of those rare miracles vouchsafed a pious Catholic com
munity as an evidence to the heathen, through the inter
cession of the blessed San Carlos himself. That their
beloved Commander, the temporal defender of the Faith,
should be the recipient of this miraculous manifestation was
most fit and seemly. The Commander himself was reticent ;
he could not tell a falsehold, — he dared not tell the truth.
After all, if the good folk of San Carlos believed that the
powers of his right eye were actually restored, was it wise
and discreet for him to undeceive them? For the first
time in his life the Commander thought of policy, — for the
first time he quoted that text which has been the lure of so
many well-meaning but easy Christians, of being " all things
to all men." Infelix Hermenegildo Salvatierra !
For by degrees an ominous whisper crept through the
little settlement. The Right Eye of the Commander, al
though miraculous, seemed to exercise a baleful effect upon
the beholder. No one could look at it without winking. It
was cold, hard, relentless, and unflinching. More than that,
it seemed to be endowed with a dreadful prescience, — a
faculty of seeing through and into the inarticulate thoughts
of those it looked upon. The soldiers of the garrison obeyed
the eye rather than the voice of their commander; and
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER. 121
answered his glance rather than his lips in questioning. The
servants could not evade the ever watchful but cold atten
tion that seemed to pursue them. The children of the
Presidio School smirched their copy-books under the awful
supervision, and poor Paquita, the prize pupil, failed utterly
in that marvellous up-stroke when her patron stood beside
her. Gradually distrust, suspicion, self -accusation, and
timidity took the place of trust, confidence, and security
throughout San Carlos. Wherever the Eight Eye of the
Commander fell, a shadow fell with it.
Nor was Salvatierra entirely free from the baleful in
fluence of his miraculous acquisition. Unconscious of its
effect upon others, he only saw in their actions evidence of
certain things that the crafty Peleg had hinted on that
eventful New Year's eve. His most trusty retainers
stammered, blushed, and faltered before him. Self-accusa
tions, confessions of minor faults and delinquencies, or
extravagant excuses and apologies met his mildest inquiries.
The very children that he loved — his pet pupil, Paquita —
seemed to be conscious of some hidden sin. The result of
this constant irritation showed itself more plainly. For the
first half-year the Commander's voice and eye were at
variance. He was still kind, tender, and thoughtful in
speech. Gradually, however, his voice took upon itself the
hardness of his glance and its sceptical impassive quality,
and as the year again neared its close, it was plain that the
Commander had fitted himself to the eye, and not the eye
to the Commander.
It may be surmised that these changes did not escape the
watchful solicitude of the Fathers. Indeed, the few who
were first to ascribe the right eye of Salvatierra to mira
culous origin, and the special grace of the blessed San Carlos,
now talked openly of witchcraft and the agency of Luzbel,
the evil one. It would have fared ill with Hermeiiegildo
Salvatierra had he been aught but Commander or amenable
122 THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER.
to local authority. But the reverend father, Friar Manuel
de Cortes, had no power over the political executive, and all
attempts at spiritual advice failed signally. He retired
baffled and confused from his first interview with the
Commander, who seemed now to take a grim satisfaction in
the fateful power of his glance. The holy father contra
dicted himself, exposed the fallacies of his own arguments,
and even, it is asserted, committed himself to several un
doubted heresies. When the Commander stood up at mass,
if the officiating priest caught that sceptical and searching
eye, the service was inevitably ruined. Even the power of
the Holy Church seemed to be lost, and the last hold iipon
the affections of the people and the good order of the settle
ment departed from San Carlos.
As the long dry summer passed, the low hills that sur
rounded the white walls of the Presidio grew more and more
to resemble in hue the leathern jacket of the Commander,
and Nature herself seemed to have borrowed his dry, hard
glare. The earth was cracked and seamed with drought ; a
blight had fallen upon the orchards and vineyards, and the
rain, long delayed and ardently prayed for, came not. The
sky was as tearless as the right eye of the Commander.
Murmurs of discontent, insubordination, and plotting among
the Indians reached his ears ; he only set his teeth the more
firmly, tightened the knot of his black silk handkerchief,
and looked up his Toledo.
The last day of the year 1798 found the Commander
sitting, at the hour of evening prayers, alone in the guard
room. He no longer attended the services of the Holy
Church, but crept away at such times to some solitary spot,
where he spent the interval in silent meditation. The fire
light played upon the low beams and rafters, but left the
i-owed figure of Salvatierra in darkness. Sitting thus, ho
felt a small hand touch his arm, and, looking down, saw the
figure of Paojiita, his little Indian pupil, at his knee. " Ah,
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER. 123
littlest of all," said the Commander, with something of his
old tenderness, lingering over the endearing diminutives of
his native speech, — " sweet one, whatdoest thou here ? Art
thou not afraid of him whom every one shuns and fears ? "
" No," said the little Indian, readily, " not in the dark. I
hear your voice, — the old voice ; I feel your touch, — the old
touch ; but I see not your eye, Senor Commandaiite. That
only I fear,— and that, 0 Senor, O my father," said the
child, lifting her little arms towards his, " that I know is not
thine OWTI ! "
The Commander shuddered and turned away. Then, re
covering himself, he kissed Paquita gravely on the forehead
and bade her retire. A few hours later, when silence had
fallen upon the Presidio, he sought his own couch and slept
peacefully.
At about the middle watch of the night a dusky figure
crept through the low embrasure of the Commander's apart
ment. Other figures were flitting through the parade-ground,
which the Commander might have seen had he not slept
so quietly. The intruder stepped noiselessly to the couch
and listened to the sleeper's deep-drawn inspiration. Some
thing glittered in the firelight as the savage lifted his arm ;
another moment and the sore perplexities of Hermenegildo
Salvatierra would have been over, when suddenly the savage
started, and fell back in a paroxysm of terror. The Com
mander slept peacefully, but his right eye, widely opened,
fixed and unaltered, glared coldly on the would-be assassin.
The man fell to the earth in a fit, and the noise awoke the
sleeper.
To rise to his feet, grasp his sword, and deal blows thick
and fast upon the mutinous savages who now thronged the
room, was the work of a moment. Help opportunely
arrived, and the undisciplined Indians were speedily driven
beyond the walls, but in the scuffle the Commander received
t. blow upon his right eye, and, lifting his hand to that mys-
[24 NOTES BY FLOO& AND FIELD.
terious organ, it was gone. Never again was it found, and
never again, for bale or bliss, did it adorn the right orbit of
the Commander.
With it passed away the spell that had fallen upon San
Carlos. The rain returned to invigorate the languid soil,
harmony was restored between priest and soldier, the green
grass presently waved over the sere hillsides, the children
flocked again to the side of their martial preceptor, a Te
Deum was sung in the Mission Church, and pastoral con
tent once more smiled upon the gentle valleys of San Carlos.
And far southward crept the General Court with its master,
Peleg Scudder, trafficking in beads and peltries with the
Indians, and offering glass eyes, wooden legs, and other
Boston notions to the chiefs.
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
PART I.— IN THE FIELD.
T T was near the close of an October day that I began to be
disagreeably conscious of the Sacramento Valley. I
had been riding since sunrise, and my course, through the
depressing monotony of the long level landscape, affected
me more like a dull dyspeptic dream than a business journey,
performed under that sincerest of natural phenomena, — a
California sky. The recurring stretches of brown and baked
fields, the gaping fissures in the dusty trail, the hard outline
of the distant hills, and the herds of slowly moving cattle,
seemed like features of some glittering stereoscopic picture
that never changed. Active exercise might have removed
this feeling, but my horse by some subtle instinct had long
since given up all ambitious effort, and had lapsed into a
dogged trot.
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 125
It was autumn, but not the season suggested to the At
lantic reader under that title. The sharply denned bounda
ries of the wet and dry seasons were prefigured in the clear
outlines of the distant hills. In the dry atmosphere the
decay of vegetation was too rapid for the slow hectic which
overtakes an Eastern landscape, or else Nature was too
practical for such thin disguises. She merely turned the
Hippocratic face to the spectator, with the old diagnosis of
Death in her sharp, contracted features.
In the contemplation of such a prospect there was little
to excite any but a morbid fancy. There were no clouds in
the flinty blue heavens, and the setting of the sun was
accompanied with as little ostentation as was consistent with
the dryly practical atmosphere. Darkness soon followed,
with a rising wind, which increased as the shadows deepened
on the plain. The fringe of alder by the watercourse began
to loom up as I urged my horse forward. A half-hour's
active spurring brought me to a corral, and a little beyond a
house, so low and broad it seemed at first sight to be half
buried in the earth.
My second impression was that it had grown out of the
soil, like some monstrous vegetable, its dreary proportions
were so in keeping with the vast prospect. There were no
recesses along its roughly boarded walls for vagrant and un
profitable shadows to lurk in the daily sunshine. No pro
jection for the wind by night to grow musical over, to wail,
whistle, or whisper to ; only a long wooden shelf containing
a chilly looking tin basin, and a bar of soap. Its uncur
tained windows were red with the sinking sun, as though
bloodshot and inflamed from a too long unlidded existence.
The tracks of cattle led to its front door, firmly closed
against the rattling wind.
To avoid being confounded with this familiar element, I
walked to the rear of the house, which was connected with
a smaller building by a slight platform. A grizzled, hard-
126 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
faced old man was standing there, and met my salutation
with a look of inquiry, and without speaking, led the way to
the principal room. As I entered, four young men, who
were reclining by the fire, slightly altered their attitudes of
perfect repose, but beyond that bet rayed neither curiosity nor
interest. A hound started from a dark corner with a growl,
but was immediately kicked by the old man into obscurity,
and silenced again. I can't tell why, but I instantly re
ceived the impression that for a long time the group by the
fire had not uttered a word or moved a muscle. Taking a
seat, I briefly stated my business.
Was a United States surveyor. Had come on account of
the Espiritu Santo Rancho. Wanted to correct the exterior
boundaries of township lines, so as to connect with the near
exteriors of private grants. There had been some inter
vention to the old survey by a Mr. Tryan who had pre
empted adjacent — " settled land warrants," interrupted the
old man. " Ah, yes ! Land Warrants, — and then this was
Mr. Tryan?"
I had spoken mechanically, for I was preoccupied in con
necting other public lines with private surveys, as I looked
in his face. It was certainly a hard face, and reminded me
of the singular effect of that mining operation known as
" ground sluicing j " the harder lines of underlying character
were exposed, and what were once plastic curves and soft
outlines were obliterated by some powerful agency.
There was a dryness in his voice not unlike the prevailing
atmosphere of the valley, as he launched into an ex parte
statement of the contest, with a fluency, which, like the wind
without, showed frequent and unrestrained expression. He
told me — what I had already learned — that the boundary
line of the old Spanish grant was a creek, described in the
loose phraseology of the deseno as beginning in the valda or
skirt of the hill, its precise location long the subject of liti
gation. I listened and answered with little interest, for mv
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 127
mind was still distracted by the wind which swept violently
by the house, as well as by his odd face, which was again
reflected in the resemblance that the silent group by the fira
bore toward him. He was still talking, and the wind was
yet blowing, when my confused attention was aroused by a
remark addressed to the recumbent figures.
" Now, then, which on ye'll see the stranger up the creek
to Altascar's, to-morrow ! "
There was a general movement of opposition in the group,
but no decided answer.
" Kin you go, Kerg ? "
" Who's to look up stock in Strarberry per-ar-ie ? "
This seemed to imply a negative, and the old man turned
to another hopeful, who was pulling the fur from a mangy
bear-skin on which he was lying, with an expression as
though it were somebody's hair.
" Well, Tom, wot's to hinder you from goin' ? "
" Mam's goin' to Brown's store at sun-up, and I s'pose
I've got to pack her and the baby agin."
I think the expression of scorn this unfortunate youth
exhibited for the filial duty into which he had been evi
dently beguiled, was one of the finest things I had ever seen.
"Wise?"
Wise deigned no verbal reply, but figuratively thrust
a worn and patched boot into the discourse. The old man
flushed quickly.
" I told you to get Brown to give you a pair the last time
you war down the river."
" Said he wouldn't without'en order. Said it was like
pulling gum-teeth to get the money from you even then.'
There was a grim smile at this local hit at the old man's
parsimony, and Wise, who was clearly the privileged wit of
the family, sank back in honourable retirement.
"Well, Joe, ef your boots are new, and you aren't
pestered with wimmin and children, p'r'aps you'll go," said
128 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
Tryan, with a nervous twitching, intended for a smile, about
a mouth not remarkably mirthful.
Joe lifted a pair of bushy eyebrows, and said shortly, —
« Got no saddle."
" Wot's gone of your saddle ? "
" Kerg, there," — indicating his brother with a look such
as Cain might have worn at the sacrifice.
" You lie," returned Kerg, cheerfully.
Tryan sprang to his feet, seizing the chair, flourishing it
around his head and gazing furiously in the hard young
faces which fearlessly met his own. But it was only for a
moment ; his arm soon dropped by his side, and a look of
hopeless fatality crossed his face. He allowed me to take
the chair from his hand, and I was trying to pacify him by
the assurance that I required no guide, when the irre
pressible Wise again lifted his voice : —
" There's George coinin' ? why don't ye ask him ? He'll
go and introduce you to Don Fernandy's darter, too, ef you
ain't partickler."
The laugh which followed this joke, which evidently had
some domestic allusion (the general tendency of rural
pleasantry), was followed by a light step on the platform,
and the young man entered. Seing a stranger present, he
stopped and coloured ; made a shy salute and coloured again,
and then, drawing a box from the corner, sat down, his
hands clasped lightly together and his very handsome bright
blue eyes turned frankly on mine.
Perhaps I was in a condition to receive the romantic im
pression he made upon me, and I took it upon myself to ask
his company as guide, and he cheerfully assented. But some
•domestic duty called him presently away.
The fire gleamed brightly on the hearth, and no longer
resisting the prevailing influence, I silently watched the
spirting flame, listening to the wind which continually shook
the tenement. Besides the one chair which had acquired a
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 129
new importance in my eyes, I presently discovered a crazy
table in one corner, with an ink-bottle and pen ; the latter
in that greasy state of decomposition peculiar to country
taverns and farm-houses. A goodly array of rifles and
double barrelled guns stocked the corner ; half a dozen
saddles and blankets lay near, with a mild flavour of the
horse about them. Some deer and bear skins completed the
inventory. As I sat there, with the silent group around
me, the shadowy gloom within and the dominant wind with
out, I found it dinicult to believe I had ever known a different
existence. My profession had often led me to wilder scenes,
but rarely among those whose unrestrained habits and easy
unconsciousness made me feel so lonely and uncomfortable.
I shrank closer to myself, not without grave doubts — which
I think occur naturally to people in like situations — that
this was the general rule of humanity, and I was a solitary
and somewhat gratuitous exception.
It was a relief when a laconic announcement of supper by
a weak-eyed girl caused a general movement in the family.
We walked across the dark platform, which led to another
low-ceiled room. Its entire length was occupied by a table,
at the farther end of which a weak-eyed woman was already
taking her repast, as she, at the same time, gave nourishment
to a weak-eyed baby. As the formalities of introduction
had been dispensed with, and as she took no notice of me,
I was enabled to slip into a seat without discomposing or
interrupting her. Tryan extemporized a grace, and the
attention of the family became absorbed in bacon, potatoes,
and dried apples.
The meal was a sincere one. Gentle gurglings at the
upper end of the table o^en betrayed the presence of the
" well-spring of pleasure." The conversation generally re
ferred to the labours of the day, and comparing notes as to
the whereabouts of missing stock. Yet the supper was such
a vast improvement upon the previous intellectual feast,
ijo NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
when a chance allusion of mine to the business of my vi&it
brought out the elder Tryan, the interest grew quite exciting.
I remember he inveighed bitterly against the system of ranch-
holding by the " greasers," as he was pleased to term the
native Californians. As the same ideas have been sometimes
advanced under more pretentious circumstances, they may
be worthy of record.
" Look at 'em holdin' the finest grazin' land that ever lay
outer doors ? Whar's the papers for it 1 "Was it grants ?
Mighty fine grants, — most of 'em made arter the 'Merrikans
got possession. More fools the 'Merrikans for lettin' 'em
hold 'em. Wot paid for 'em ? 'Merrikan blood and money.
" Didn't they oughter have suthin out of their native
country ? Wot for ? Did they ever improve 1 Got a lot
of yaller-skinned diggers, not so sensible as niggers to look
arter stock, and they a-sittin' home and smokin'. With
their gold and silver candlesticks, and missions, and cruci-
fixens, priests and gra.ven idols, and sich ? Them sort things
wurent allowed in Mizzoori."
At the mention of improvements, I involuntarily lifted
my eyes, and met the half-laughing, half-embarrassed look of
George. The act did not escape detection, aud I had at
once the satisfaction of seeing that the rest of the family
had formed an offensive alliance against us.
"It was agin JSTater, and agin God," added Tryan. "God
never intended gold in the rocks to be made into heathen
candlesticks and crucifixens. That's why he sent 'Merrikans
here. JSTater never intended such a climate for lazy lopers.
She never gin six months' sunshine to be slept and smoked
away."
How long he continued, and with what further illustration,
I could not say, for I took an early opportunity to escape to
the sitting-room. I was soon followed by George, who called
me to an open door leading to a smaller room, and pointed
to a V
ATQTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 131
"You'd better sleep there to-night," lie said; "you'll be
more comfortable, and I'll call you early.
I thanked him, and would have asked him several questions
which were then troubling me, but he shily slipped to the
door and vanished.
A shadow seemed to fall on the room when he had gone.
The " boys " returned, one by one, and shuffled to their old
places. A larger log was thrown on the fire, and the huge
chimney glowed like a furnace, but it did not seem to melt
or subdue a single line of the hard faces that it lit. In half
an hour later, the furs which had served as chairs by day
undertook the nightly office of mattresses, and each received
its owner's full-length figure. Mr. Tryan had not returned,
and I missed George. I sat there until, wakeful and
nervous, I saw the fire fall and shadows mount the wall.
There was no sound but the rushing of the wind and tho
snoring of the sleepers. At last, feeling the place Insup
portable, I seized my hat and, opening the door, ran out
briskly into the night.
The acceleration of my torpid pulse in the keen fight
with the wind, whose violence was almost equal to that of a
tornado, and the familiar faces of the bright stars above me,
I felt as a blessed relief. I ran not knowing whither, and
when I halted, the square outline of the house was lost in
the alder-bushes. An uninterrupted plain stretched before
me, like a vast sea beaten flat by the force of the gale. As
I kept on I noticed a slight elevation toward the horizon,
and presently my progress was impeded by the ascent of an
Indian mound. It struck me forcibly as resembling an
island in the sea. Its height gave me a better view of the
expanding plain. But even here I found no rest. The
ridiculous interpretation Tryaii had given the climate was
somehow sung in my ears, and echoed in my throbbing
pulse, as, guided by the star, I sought the house again.
But I felt fresher and more natural as I stepped upon the
K 2
133 NOTES 23Y FLOOD AND FIELD.
platform. The door of the lower building was open, and the
old man was sitting beside the table, thumbing the leaves of
a Bible with a look in his face as though he were hunting up
prophecies against the "Greaser." I turned to enter, but my
attention was attracted by a blanketed figure lying beside
the house, on the platform. The broad chest heaving with
healthy slumber, and the open, honest face were familiar.
It was George, who had given np his bed to the stranger
among his people. I was about to wake him, but he lay so
peaceful and quiet, I felt awed and hushed. And I went to
bed with a pleasant impression of his handsome face and
tranquil figure soothing me to sleep.
I was awakened the next morning from a sense of lulled
repose and grateful silence by the cheery voice of George,
who stood beside my bed, ostentatiously twirling a "riata,"
as if to recall the duties of the day to my sleep-bewildered
eyes. I looked around me. The wind had been magically
laid, and the sun shone warmly through the windows. A
dash of cold water, with an extra chill on from the tin basin,
helped to brighten me. It was still early, but the family
had already breakfasted and dispersed, and a waggon winding
far in the distance showed that the unfortunate Tom had
already "packed" his relatives away. I felt more cheer
ful, — there are few troubles Youth cannot distance with a
start of a good night's rest. After a substantial breakfast,
prepared by George, in a few moments we were mounted
and dashing down the plain.
We followed the line of alder that defined the creek, now
dry and baked with summer's heat, but which in winter,
George told me, overflowed its banks. I still retain a vivid
impression of that morning's ride, the far-off mountains, like
silhouettes ', against the steel-blue sky, the crisp dry air, and
the expanding track before me, animated often by the well-
knit figure of George Try an, musical with jingling spurs,
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 133
and picturesque with flying " riata." He rode a powerful
native roan, wild-eyed, untiring in stride and unbroken in
nature. Alas ! the curves of beauty were concealed by the
cumbrous macliillas of the Spanish saddle, which levels all
equine distinctions. The single rein lay loosely 011 the cruel
bit that can gripe, and, if need be, crush the jaw it controls.
Again the illimitable freedom of the valley rises before
me, as we again bear down into sunlit space. Can this be
" Chu-Chu," staid and respectable filly of American pedi
gree, — "Chu-Chu," forgetful of plank-roads and cobble
stones, wild with excitement, twinkling her small white feet
beneath me ? George laughs out of a cloud of dust, " Give
her her head ; don't you see she likes it ? " and " Chu-Chu "
seems to like it, and, whether bitten by native tarantula into
native barbarism or emulous of the roan, "blood" asserts
itself, and in a moment the peaceful servitude of years is
beaten out in the music of her clattering hoofs. The creek
widens to a deep gully. We dive into it and up on the
opposite side, carrying a moving cloud of impalpable powder
with us. Cattle are scattered over the plain, grazing quietly,
or banded together in vast restless herds. George makes a
wide, indefinite sweep with the " riata," as if to include
them all in his vaquero's loop, and says, " Ours."
" About how many, George ? "
« Don't know."
" How many 1 "
"Well, p'r'aps three thousand head," says George, re
flecting. "We don't know ; takes five men to look 'em up
and keep run."
" What are they worth ? "
"About thirty dollars a head."
I make a rapid calculation, and look my astonishment at
the laughing George. Perhaps a recollection of the domestic
economy of the Try an household is expressed in that look,
for George averts his eye and says, apologetically, —
I3\ NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
" I've tried to get the old man to sell and build, but you
know he says it ain't no use to settle down, just yet. We
must keep moviri'. In fact, he built the shanty for that
purpose, lest titles should fall through, and we'd have to get
up and move stakes farther down,"
Suddenly his quick eye detects some unusual sight in a
herd we are passing, and with an exclamation he puts his
roan into the centre of the mass. I follow, or rather
" Chu-Chu " darts after the roan, and in a "few moments we
are in the midst of apparently inextricable horns and hoofs.
" Toro ! " shouts George, with vaquero enthusiasm, and the
band opens the way for the swinging " riata." I can feel
their steaming breaths, and their spume is cast on "Chu-
Chu's " quivering flank.
Wild, devilish-looking beasts are they ; not such shapes
as Jove might have chosen to woo a goddess, nor such as
peacefully range the downs of Devon, but lean and hungry
Cassius-like bo vines, economically got up to meet the exi
gencies of a six months' rainless climate, and accustomed
to wrestle with the distracting wind and the blinding
dust.
" That's not our brand," says George, " they're strange
stock," and he points to what my scientific eye recognizes
as the astrological sign of Venus deeply seared in the brown
flanks of the bull he is chasing. But the herd are closing
round us with low mutterings, and George has again recourse
to the authoritative " Toro," and with swinging " riata "
divides the " bossy bucklers " on either side. When we are
free, and breathing somewhat more easily, I venture to ask
George if they ever attack any one.
"Never horsemen, — sometimes footmen. Not through
rage, you know, but curiosity. They think a man and his
horse are one, and if they meet a chap afoot, they run him
down and trample him under hoof, in the pursuit of know
ledge. But," adds George, " here's the lower bench of the
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 135
foot-hills, and here's Altascar's corral, and that white build
ing you see yonder is the casa."
A whitewashed wall enclosed a court containing another
adobe building, baked with the solar beams of many sum
mers. Leaving our horses in the charge of a few peons in
the courtyard, who were basking lazily in the sun, we entered
a low doorway, where a deep shadow and an agreeable cool
ness fell upon us, as sudden and grateful as a plunge in cold
water, from its contrast with the external glare and heat.
In the centre of a low-ceiled apartment sat an old man with
a black silk handkerchief tied about his head, the few grey
hairs that escaped from its folds relieving his gamboge-
coloured face. The odour of cigarritos was as incense added
to the cathedral gloom of the building.
As Seiior Altascar rose with well-bred gravity to receive
us, George advanced with such a heightened colour, and
such a blending of tenderness and respect in his manner,
that I was touched to the heart by so much devotion in the
careless youth. In fact, my eyes were still dazzled by the
effect of the outer sunshine, and at first I did not see the
white teeth and black eyes of Pepita, who slipped into the
corridor as we entered.
It was no pleasant matter to disclose particulars of busi
ness which would deprive the old Senor of the greater part
of that land we had just ridden over, and I did it with great
embarrassment. But he listened calmly, — not a muscle
of his dark face stirring, — and the smoke, curling placidly
from his lips, showed his regular respiration. When I had
finished, he offered quietly to accompany us to the line of
demarcation. George had meanwhile disappeared, but a sus
picious conversation, in broken Spanish and English, in the
corridor, betrayed his vicinity. When he returned again, a
little absent-minded, the old man, by far the coolest and
most self-possessed of the party, extinguished his black silk
cap beneath that stiff, uncomely sombrero which all native
136 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
Californians affect. A serapa thrown over his shoulders,
hinted that he was waiting. Horses are always ready saddled
in Spanish ranches, and in half an hour from the time of our
arrival we were again " loping " in the staring sunlight.
But not as cheerfully as before. George and myself were
weighed down by restraint, and Altascar was gravely quiet.
To break the silence, and by way of a consolatory essay,
I hinted to him that there might be further intervention or
appeal, but the proffered oil and wine were returned with a
careless shrug of the shoulders and a sententious "Que
bueno ? — Your courts are always just."
The Indian mound of the previous night's discovery was
a bearing monument of the new line, and there we halted.
We were surprised to find the old man, Tryan, waiting us.
For the first time during our interview, the old Spaniard
seemed moved, and the blood rose in his yellow cheek. I
was anxious to close the scene, and pointed out the corner
boundaries as clearly as my recollection served.
" The deputies will be here to-morrow to run the lines
from this initial point, and there will be no further trouble,
I believe, gentlemen."
Senor Altascar had dismounted, and was gathering a few
tufts of dried grass in his hands. George and I exchanged
glances. He presently arose from his stooping posture, and
advauciDg to within a few paces of Joseph Tryan, said, in a
voice broken with passion, —
" And I, Fernando Jesus Maria Altascar, put you in pos
session of my land in the fashion of my country."
He threw a sod to each of the cardinal points.
" I don't know your courts, your judges, or your corregi-
dores. Take the llano ! — and take this with it. May the
drought seize your cattle till their tongues hang down as
long as those of your lying lawyers ! May it be the curse
and torment of your old age, as you and yours have made it
of mine!"
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 137
"We stepped between the principal actors in this scene,
which only the passion of Altascar made tragical, but
Tryan, with a humility but ill concealing his triumph, inter
rupted, —
" Let him curse on. He 11 find 'em coming home to him
sooner than the cattle he has lost through his sloth and
pride. The Lord is on the side of the just, as well as agin
all slanderers and revilers."
Altascar but half guessed the meaning of the Missourian,
yet sufficiently to drive from his mind all but the extrava
gant power of his native invective.
" Stealer of the Sacrament : Open not ! — open not, I say,
your lying, Judas lips to me ! Ah ! half-breed, with the soul
of a cayote ! — Car-r-r-ramba !"
With his passion reverberating among the consonants like
distant thunder, he laid his hand upon the mane of his horse
as though it had been the grey locks of his adversary, swung
himself into the saddle, and galloped away.
George turned to me, —
" Will you go back with us to-night ?"
I thought of the cheerless walls, the silent figures by the
fire, and the roaring wind, and hesitated.
" Well, then, good-bye."
" Good-bye, George."
Another wring of the hands, and we parted. I had not
ridden far when I turned and looked back. The wind had
risen early that afternoon, and was already sweeping across
the plain. A cloud of dust travelled before it, and a pictu
resque figure occasionally emerging therefrom was my last
indistinct impression of George Tryan.
133 NOTES BY PLOOD AND FIELD,
PART II.— IN THE FLOOD.
T^HREE months after the survey of the Espirita Santo
Bancho, I was again in the valley of the Sacramento.
But a general and terrible visitation had erased the memory
of that event as completely as I supposed it had obliterated
the boundary monuments I had planted. The great flood of
1861 — 62' was at its height, when, obeying some indefinite
yearning, I took my carpet-bag and embarked for the inun
dated valley.
There was nothing to be seen from the bright cabin win
dows of the Golden City but night deepening over the water.
The only sound was the pattering rain, and that had grown
monotonous for the past two weeks, and did not disturb the
national gravity of my countrymen as they silently sat
around the cabin stove. Some on errands of relief to friends
and relatives wore anxious faces, arid conversed soberly on
the one absorbing topic. Others, like myself, attracted by
curiosity, listened eagerly to newer details. But with that
human disposition to seize upon any circumstance that
might give chance event the exaggerated importance of in
stinct, I was half conscious of something more than curiosity
as an impelling motive.
The dripping of rain, the low gurgle of water, and a leaden
sky greeted us the next morning as we lay beside the half-
submerged levee of Sacramento. Here, however, the novelty
of boats to convey us to the hotels was an appeal that was
irresistible. I resigned myself to a dripping rubber-cased
mariner called " Joe," and, wrapping myself in a shining
cloak of the like material, about as suggestive of warmth as
court-plaster might have been, took my seat in the stern-
sheets of his boat. It was no slight inward struggle to part
from the steamer, that to most of the passengers was the
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 139
only visible connecting link between us and the dry and
iabitable earth, but we pulled away and entered the city,
stemming a rapid current as we shot the levee.
We glided up the long level of K Street, — once a cheer
ful, busy thoroughfare, now distressing in its silent desolation.
The turbid water which seemed to meet the horizon edge
before us flowed at right angles in sluggish rivers through
the streets. Nature had revenged herself on the local taste
by disarraying the regular rectangles, by huddling houses on
street corners, where they presented abrupt gables to the
current, or by capsizing them in compact ruin. Crafts of all
kinds were gliding in and out of low-arched doorways. The
water was over the top of the fences surrounding well kept
gardens, in the first stories of hotels and private dwellings,
trailing its slime on velvet carpets as well as roughly boarded
floors. And a silence quite as suggestive as the visible deso
lation was in the voiceless streets that no longer echoed to
carriage-wheel or footfall. The low ripple of water, the
occasional splash of oars, or the warning cry of boatmen
were the few signs of life and habitation.
With such scenes before my eyes and such sounds in my
ears, as I lie lazily in the boat, is mingled the song of my
gondolier who sings to the music of his oars. It is not
quite as romantic as his brother of the Lido might improvise,
but my Yankee " Giuseppe" has the advantage of earnest
ness and energy, and gives a graphic description of the ter
rors of the past week and of noble deeds of self-sacrifice and
devotion, occasionally pointing out a balcony from which
some California Bianca or Laura had been snatched, half
clothed and famished. Giuseppe is otherwise peculiar, and
refuses the proffered fare, for — am I not a citizen of San
Francisco, which was first to respond to the suffering cry of
Sacramento? and is not he, Giuseppe, a member of the
Howard Society ? No ! Giuseppe is poor, but cannot take
my money. Still, if I must spend it, there is the HowartJ
140 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
Society, and the women and children without food and
clothes at the Agricultural Hall.
I thank the generous gondolier, and we go to the Hall, — •
a dismal, bleak place, ghastly with the memories of last
year's opulence and plenty, and here Giuseppe's fare is
swelled by the stranger's mite. But here Giuseppe tells me
of the " Relief Boat" which leaves for the flooded district in
the interior, and here, profiting by the lesson he has taught
me, I make the resolve to turn my curiosity to the account
of others, and am accepted of those who go forth to succour
and help the afflicted. Giuseppe takes charge of my carpet
bag, and does not part from me until I star*** on the slippery
deck of "Relief Boat No. 3."
An hour later I am in the pilot-house, looking down upon
what was once the channel of a peaceful river. But its
banks are only denned by tossing tufts of willow washed by
the long swell that breaks over a vast inland sea. Stretches
of "tule" land fertilized by its once regular channel and
dotted by flourishing ranches are now cleanly erased. The
cultivated profile of the old landscape had faded. Dotted
lines in symmetrical perspective mark orchards that are
buried and chilled in the turbid flood. The roofs of a few
farm houses are visible, and here and there the smoke curl
ing from chimneys of half-submerged tenements show an
undaunted life within. Cattle and sheep are gathered on
Indian mounds waiting the fate of their companions whose
carcasses drift by us, or swing in eddies with the wrecks of
barns and out-houses. Waggons are stranded everywhere
where the tide could carry them. As I wipe the moistened
glass, I see nothing but water, pattering on the deck from
the lowering clouds, dashing against the window, dripping
from the willows, hissing by the wheels, everywhere wash
ing, coiling, sapping, hurrying in rapids, or swelling at last
into deeper and vaster lakes, awful in their suggestive quiet
and concealment.
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 141
As day fades into night the monotony of this strange
prospect grows oppressive. I seek the engine-room, and in
the company of some of the few half-drowned sufferers we
have already picked up from temporary rafts, I forget tho
general aspect of desolation in their individual misery.
Later we meet the San Francisco packet, and transfer a
number of our passengers. From them we learn how in
ward bound vessels report to having struck the well-defined
channel of the Sacramento, fifty miles beyond the bar.
There is a voluntary contribution taken among the generous
travellers for the use of our afflicted, and we part company
with a hearty "God-speed" on either side. But our signal-
lights are not far distant before a familiar sound comes back
to us, — an indomitable Yankee cheer, — which scatters the
gloom.
Our course is altered, and we are steaming over the obli
terated banks far in the interior. Once or twice black
objects loom up near us, — the wrecks of houses floating
by. There is a slight rift in the sky towards the north, and
a few bearing stars to guide us over the waste. As we pene
trate into shallower water, it is deemed advisable to divide
our party into smaller boats, and diverge over the sub
merged prairie. I borrow a pea-coat of one of the crew, and
in that practical disguise am doubtfully permitted to pass
into one of the boats. We give way northerly. It is quite
dark yet, although the rift of cloud has widened.
It must have been about three o'clock, and we were lying
upon our oars in an eddy formed by a clump of cottonwood,
and the light of the steamer is a solitary, bright star in the
distance, when the silence is broken by the " bow oar," —
" Light ahead."
All eyes are turned in that direction. In a few seconds a
twinkling light appears, shines steadily, and again disap
pears, as if by the shifting position of some black object
apparently drifting close upon us.
142 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
" Stern, all ; a steamer !"
"Hold hard there ! Steamer be d — d!" is the reply of
the coxswain. " It's a house, and a big one too."
It is a big one, looming in the starlight like a huge frag
ment of the darkness. The light comes from a single candle,
which shines through a window as the great shape swings bj.
Some recollection is drifting back to me with it, as I listen
with beating heart.
"There's some one in it, by Heavens ! Give way, boys,
— lay her alongside. Handsomely, now ! The door's fas
tened ; try the window ; no ! here's another !"
In another moment we are trampling in the water, which
washes the floor to the depth of several inches. It is a large
room, at the farther end of which an old man is sitting
wrapped in a blanket, holding a candle in one hand, and
apparently absorbed in the book he holds with the other. I
spring toward him with an exclamation, —
" Joseph Tryan ! "
He does not move. We gather closer to him, and I lay my
hand gently on his shoulder, and say, —
" Look up, old man, look up ! Your wife and children,
where are they 1 The boys, — George ! Are they here ? are
they safe ?"
He raises his head slowly, and turns his eyes to mine, and
we involuntarily recoil before his look. It is a calm and
quiet glance, free from fear, anger, or pain ; but it somehow
sends the blood curdling through our veins. He bowed his
head over his book again, taking no further notice of us. The
men look at me compassionately, and hold their peace. I
make one more effort : —
" Joseph Tryan, don't you know me ? the surveyor who
surveyed your ranch, — the Espiritu Santo 1 Look up, old
man!"
He shuddered, and wrapped himsel f closer in his blanket.
Presently he repeated to himself, " The surveyor who sur-
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 143
veyed your ranch, — Espiritu Santo," over and over again, as
though it were a lesson he was trying to fix in his memory.
I was turning sadly to the boatmen, when he suddenly
caught me fearfully by the hand and said,-—
"Hush!"
We were silent.
" Listen ! " He puts his arm around my neck and whispers
in my ear, " I'm a moving off '/"
"Moving off]"
" Hush ! Don't speak so loud. Moving off. Ah ! wot's
that ? Don't you hear 1 — there ! listen !"
We listen and hear the water gurgle and click beneath the
floor.
" It's them wot he sent ! — Old Altasoar sent. They've
been here all night. I heard 'em first in the creek, when
they came to tell the old man to move farther off. They
came nearer and nearer. They whispered under the door, and
I saw their eyes on the step, — their cruel, hard eyes. Ah !
why don't they quit 1"
I tell the men to search the room and see if they can find
any further traces of the family, while Tryan resumes his old
attitude. It is so much like the figure I remember on the
breezy night that a superstitious feeling is fast overcoming
me. When they have returned, I tell them briefly what I
know of him, and the old man murmurs again, —
" Why don't they quit, then ? They have the stock, — all
gone — gone, gone for the hides and hoofs," and he groans
bitterly.
" There are other boats below us. The shanty cannot have
drifted far, and perhaps the family are safe by this time,"
says the coxswain, hopefully.
We lift the old man up, for he is quite helpless, and carry
Aim to the boat. He is still grasping the Bible in his right
hand, though its strengthening grace is blank to his vacant
eye., and he cowers in the stern as we pull slowly to the
144 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
steamer, while a pale gleam in the sky shows the coming
day.
I was weary with excitement, and when we reached the
steamer, and I had seen Joseph Tryan comfortably bestowed,
T wrapped myself in a blanket near the boiler and presently
fell asleep. But even then the figure of the old man often
started before me, and a sense of uneasiness about George
made a strong undercurrent to drifting dreams. I was
awakened at about' eight o'clock in the morning by the
engineer, who told me one of the old man's sons had been
picked up and was now on board.
" Is it George Tryan?" I ask quickly.
t( Don't know ; but he's a sweet one, whoever he is," adds
the engineer, with a smile at some luscious remembrance.
« You'll find him for'ard."
I hurry to the bow of the boat, and find, not George, but
the irrepressible Wise, sitting on a coil of rope, a little
dirtier and rather more dilapidated than I can remember
having seen him.
He is examining, with apparent admiration, some rough,
dry clothes that have been put out for his disposal. I cannot
help thinking that circumstances have somewhat exalted his
usual cheerfulness. He puts me at my ease by at once
addressing me : —
" These are high old times, ain't they ? I say, what do you
reckon's become o' them thar bound'ry moniments you
stuck? Ah!"
The pause which succeeds this outburst is the effect of a
spasm of admiration at a pair of high boots, which, by great
exertion, he has at last pulled on his feet.
"So you've picked up the ole man in the shanty, clean
crazy ? He must have been soft to have stuck there instead
o' leavin' with the old woman. Didn't know me from Adarn ;
took me for George !"
At this affecting instance of paternal forgetfulness, Wise
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. ri5
was evidently divided between amusement and chagrin. I
took advantage of the contending emotions to ask about
George.
" Don't know whar he is ! If he'd tended stock instead of
running about the prairie, packin' off wimmin and children,
he might have saved suthin. He lost every hoof and hide,
I'll bet a cookey. Say you," to a passing boatman, " when
are you goin' to give us some grub 1 I'm hungry 'nough to
skin and eat a hoss. Beckon I'll turn butcher whenthings
is dried up, and save hides, horns, and taller."
I could not but admire this indomitable energy, which
under softer climatic influences might have borne such goodly
fruit.
"Have you any idea what you'll do, Wise ?" I ask.
" Thar ain't much to do now," says the practical young
man. " I'll have to lay over a spell, I reckon, till things
comes straight. The land ain't worth much now, and won't
be, I clessay, for some time. Wonder whar the ole man'll
drive stakes next."
" I meant as to your father and George, Wise."
" 0, the ole man and I'll go on to ' Miles's,' whar Toni
packed the old woman and babies last week. George'll turn
up somewhar atween this and Altascar's, ef he ain't thar now."
I ask how the Altascars have suffered.
" Well, I reckon he ain't lost much in stock. I shouldn't
wonder if George helped him drive 'em up the foot-hills.
And his l casa"s built too high. O, thar ain't any water
thar, you bet. Ah," says Wise, with reflective admiration,
" those greasers ain't the darned fools people think 'em. I'll
bet thar ain't one swamped out in all 'er Californy." But
the appearance of " grub " cut this rhapsody short.
" I shall keep on a little farther," I say, " and try to find
George."
Wise stared a moment at this eccentricity until a new light
ilawned upon him.
Itf NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
" I don't think you'll save much. "What's the percentage,—
workin' on shares, eh ! "
I answer that I am only curious, which I feel lessens his
opinion of me, and with a sadder feeling than his assurance of
George's safety might warrant, I walked away.
From others whom we picked up from time to time we
heard of George's self-sacrificing devotion, with the praises of
the many he had helped and rescued. But I did not feel
disposed to return until I had seen him, and soon prepared
myself to take a boat to the lower " valda " of the foot-hills,
and visit Altascar. I soon perfected my arrangements, bade
farewell to Wise, and took a last look at the old man, who
was sitting by the furnace-fires quite passive and composed.
Then our boat-head swung round, pulled by sturdy and
willing hands.
It was again raining, and a disagreeable wind had risen.
Our course lay nearly west, and we soon knew by the strong
current that we were in the creek of the Espiritu Santo.
From time to time the wrecks of barns were seen, and we
passed many half-submerged willows hung with farming
implements.
We emerge at last into a broad silent sea. It is the
"llano de Espiritu Santo." As the wind whistles by me,
piling the shallower fresh water into mimic waves, I go
back, in fancy, to the long ride of October over that
boundless plain, and recall the sharp outlines of the
distant hills which are now lost in the lowering clouds.
The men are rowing silently, and I find my mind, released
from its tension, growing benumbed and depressed as then.
The water, too, is getting more shallow as we leave the
banks of the creek, and with my hand dipped listlessly
over the thwarts, I detect the tops of chimisal, which
shows the tide to have somewhat fallen. There is a black
mound, bearing to the north of the line of alder, making an
adverse current, which, as we sweep to the right to avoid, I
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 147
recognize. We pull close alongside and I call to the men to
stop.
There was a stake driven near its summit with the initials,
" L. E. S. I." Tied half-way down was a curiously worked
"riata." It was George's. It had been cut with some
sharp instrument, and the loose gravelly soil of the mound
was deeply dented with horse's hoofs. The stake was
covered with horse-hairs. It was a record, but no
clew.
The wind had grown more violent, as we still fought our
way forward, resting and rowing by turns, and oftener
" poling " the shallower surface, but the old " valda," or
bench, is still distant. My recollection of the old survey
enables me to guess the relative position of the meanderings
of the creek, and an occasional simple professional experiment
to determine the distance gives my crew the fullest faith in
my ability. Night overtakes us in our impeded progress.
Our condition looks more dangerous than it really is, but I
urge the men, many of whom are still new in this mode of
navigation, to greater exertion by assurance of perfect safety
and speedy relief ahead. We go on in this way until about
eight o'clock, and ground by the willows. We have a muddy
walk for a few hundred yards before we strike a dry trail,
and simultaneously the white walls of Altascar's appear like
a snow-bank before us. Lights are moving in the courtyard ;
but otherwise the old tomb-like repose characterizes the
building.
One of the peons recognized me as I entered the court, and
Altascar met me on the corridor.
I was too weak to do more than beg his hospitality for the
men who had dragged wearily with me. He looked at my
hand, which still unconsciously held the broken " riata." I
began, wearily, to tell him about George and my fears, but
with a gentler courtesy than was even his wont, he gravely
laid his hand on my shoulder.
2.C
148 NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD.
" Poco a poco Seiior, — not now. You are tired, you have
hunger, you have cold. Necessary it is you should have
peace."
He took us into a small room and poured out some French
cognac, which he gave to the men that had accompanied me.
They drank and threw themselves before the fire in the
larger room. The repose of the building was intensified that
night, and I even fancied that the footsteps on the corridor
were lighter and softer. The old Spaniard's habitual gravity
was deeper ; we might have been shut out from the world as
well as the whistling storm, behind those ancient walls with
their time-worn inheritor.
Before I could repeat my inquiry he retired. In a few
minutes two smoking dishes of " chupa " with coffee were
placed before us, and my men ate ravenously. I drank the
coffee, but my excitement and weariness kept down tho
instincts of hunger.
I was sitting sadly by the fire when he re-entered.
"You have eat r
I said, " Yes," to please him.
" Bueno, eat when you can, — food and appetite are not
He said this with that Sancho-like simplicity with which
most of his countrymen utter a proverb, as though it were
an experience rather than a legend, and, taking the " riata "
from the floor, held it almost tenderly before him.
" It was made by me, Senor."
" I kept it as a clew to him, Don Altascar," I said. " If
I could find him "
" He is here."
" Here ! and " — but I could not say " well 1 " I under
stood the gravity of the old man's face, the hushed footfalls,
the tomb-like repose of the building in an electric flash of
consciousness ; I held the clew to the broken riata at last.
Altascar took my hand, and we crossed the corridor to a
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD. 149
sombre apartment. A few tall candles were burning in
sconces before the window.
In an alcove there was a deep bed with its counterpane,
pillows, and sheets heavily edged with lace, in all that
splendid luxury which the humblest of these strange people
lavish upon this single item of their household. I stepped
beside it arid saw George lying, as I had seen him once before,
peacefully at rest. But a greater sacrifice than that he had
known was here, and his generous heart was stilled for ever.
" He was honest and brave," said the old man, and turned
away.
There was another figure in the room ; a heavy shawl
drawn over her graceful outline, and her long black hair
hiding the hands that buried her downcast face. I did not
seem to notice her, and, retiring presently, left the loving and
loved together.
When we were again beside the crackling fire, in the shift
ing shadows of the great chamber, Altascar told me how he
had that morning met the horse of George Tryan swimming
on the prairie ; how that, farther on, he found him lying,
quite cold and dead, with no marks or bruises on his person ;
that he had probably become exhausted in fording the creek,
and that he had as probably reached the mound only to die
for the want of that help he had so freely given to others ;
that, as a last act, he had freed his horse. These incidents
were corroborated by many who collected in the great
chamber that evening, — women and children, — most of them
succoured through the devoted energies of him who lay cold
and lifeless above.
He was buried in the Indian mound, — the single spot of
strange perennial greenness, which the poor aborigines had
raised above the dusty plain. A little slab of sandstone,
with the initials " G. T.," is his monument, and one of the
bearings of the initial corner of the new survey of the
"Espiritu Santo Rancho."
III.-BOHEMIAN PAPERS.
THE MISSION DOLORES.
'"FHE Mission Dolores is destined to be " The Last Sigh "
of the native Californian. When the last " Greaser "
shall indolently give way to the bustling Yankee, I can
imagine he will, like the Moorish King, ascend one of the
Mission hills to take his last lingering look at the hilled city.
For a long time he will cling tenaciously to Pacific Street.
He will delve in the rocky fastnesses of Telegraph Hill until
progress shall remove it. He will haunt Vallejo Street, and
those back slums which so vividly typify the degradation of
a people ; but he will eventually make way for improve
ment. The Mission will be last to drop from his nerveless
fingers.
As I stand here this pleasant afternoon, looking up at the
old chapel, — its ragged senility contrasting with the smart
spring sunshine, its two gouty pillars with the plaster drop
ping away like tattered bandages, its rayless windows, its
crumbling entrances, the leper spots on its whitewashed wall
eating through the dark abode, — I give the poor old mendi
cant but a few years longer to sit by the highway and ask
alms in the names of the blessed saints. Already the vici
nity is haunted with the shadow of its dissolution. The
shriek of the locomotive discords with the Angelus bell. An
Episcopal church, of a green Gothic type, with massive but
tresses of Oregon pine, even now mocks its hoary age with
THE MISSION DOLORES. 151
imitation, and supplants it with a sham. Vain, alas ! were
those rural accessories, the nurseries and market-gardens,
that once gathered about its walls and resisted civic encroach
ment. They, too, are passing away. Even those queer little
adobe buildings with tiled roofs like longitudinal slips of cin
namon, and walled enclosures sacredly guarding a few bullock
horns and strips of hide. I look in vain for the half-
reclaimed Mexican, whose respectability stopped at his waist,
and whose red sash under his vest was the utter undoing of
his black broadcloth. I miss, too, those black-haired women,
with swaying unstable busts, whose dresses were always un
seasonable in texture and pattern ; whose wearing of a shawl
was a terrible awakening from the poetic dream of the
Spanish mantilla. Traces of another nationality are visible.
The railroad "navvy" has builded his shanty near the
chapel, and smokes his pipe in the Posada. Gutturals have
taken the place of liuguals and sibilants ; I miss the half-
chanted, half-drawled cadences that used to mingle with the
cheery " All aboard " of the stage-driver, in those good old
days when the stages ran hourly to the Mission, and a trip
thither was an excursion. At the very gates of the temple,
in the place of those " who sell doves for sacrifice," a vendor
of mechanical spiders has halted with his unhallowed wares.
Even the old Padre — last type of the Missionary, and des-
cendent of the good Junipero — I cannot find to-day ; in his
stead a light-haired Celt is reading a lesson from a Vulgate
that is wonderfully replete with double r's. Gentle priest,
in thy R-isons, let the stranger and heretic be remembered.
I open a little gate and enter the Mission Churchyard.
There is no change here, though perhaps the graves lie closer
together. A willow-tree, growing beside the deep, brown
wall, has burst into tufted plumes in the fulness of spring.
The tall grass-blades over each mound show a strange
quickening of the soil below. It is pleasanter here than on
the bleak mountain seaward, where distracting winds con-
152 THE MISSION DOLORES.
tinually bring the strife and turmoil of the ocean. The
Mission hills lovingly embrace the little cemetery whose deco
rative taste is less ostentatious. The foreign flavour is
strong ; here are never -failing garlands of immortelles, with
their sepulchral spicery ; here are little cheap medallions of
pewter, with the adornment of three black tears, that would
look like the three of clubs, but that the simple humility of
the inscription counterbalances all sense of the ridiculous.
Here are children's graves with guardian angels of great spe
cific gravity ; but here, too, are the little one's toys in a glass
case beside them. Here is the average quantity of execrable
original verses ; but one stanza — over a sailor's grave — is
striking, for it expresses a hope of salvation through the
" Lord High Admiral Christ \ " Over the foreign graves
there is a notable lack of scriptural quotation, and an increase,
if I may say it, of humanity and tenderness. I cannot help
thinking that too many of my countrymen are influenced by
a morbid desire to make a practical point of this occasion, and
are too apt hastily to crowd a whole life of omission into the
culminating act. But when I see the gray immortelles
crowning a tombstone, I know I shall find the mysteries of
the resurrection shown rather in symbols, and only the love
taught in His new commandment left for the graphic touch.
But " they manage these things better in France."
During my purposeless ramble the sun has been steadily
climbing the brown wall of the church, and the air seems to
grow cold and raw. The bright green dies out of the grass,
and the rich, bronze comes down from the wall. The willow-
tree seems half inclined to doff its plumes, and wears the
dejected air of a broken faith and violated trust. The
spice of the immortelles mixes with the incense that steals
through the open window. Within, the barbaric gilt and
crimson look cold and cheap in this searching air ; by this
light the church certainly is old and ugly. I cannot help
JOHN CHINAMAN. 153
wondering whether the old Fathers, if they ever revisit the
scene of their former labours, in their larger comprehensions,
view with regret the impending change, or mourn over the
clay when the Mission Dolores shall appropriately come to
grief.
JOHN CHINAMAN.
* I "HE expression of the Chinese face in the aggregate is
neither cheerful nor happy. In. an acquaintance of half
a dozen years, I can only recall one or two exceptions to this
rule. There is an abiding consciousness of degradation, — a
secret pain or self-humiliation visible in the lines of the
mouth and eye. Whether it is only a modification of
Turkish gravity, or whether it is the dread Valley of the
Shadow of the Drug through which they are continually
straying, I cannot say. They seldom smile, and their
laughter is of such an extraordinary and sardonic nature —
so purely a mechanical spasm, quite independent of any
mirthful attribute — that to this day T am doubtful whether
I ever saw a Chinaman laugh. A theatrical representation
by natives, one might think, would have set my mind at ease
on this point ; but it did not. Indeed, a new difficulty pre
sented itself, — the impossibility of determining whether the
performance was a tragedy or farce. I thought I detected
the low comedian in an active youth who turned two somer
saults, and knocked everybody down on entering the stage.
But, unfortunately, even this classic resemblance to the legi
timate farce of our civilization was deceptive. Another
brocaded actor, who represented the hero of the play, turned
three somersaults, and not only upset my theory and his
fellow-actors at the same time, but apparently run a-muck
behind the scenes for some time afterward. I looked around
at the glinting white teeth, to observe the effect of these two
154 JOHN CHINAMAN.
palpable hits. They were received with equal acclamation,
and apparently equal facial spasms. One or two beheadings,
which enlivened the play, produced the same sardonic effect,
and left upon my mind a painful anxiety to know what was
the serious business of life in China. It was noticeable, how
ever, that my unrestrained laughter had a discordant effect,
and that triangular eyes sometimes turned ominously toward
the "Fanqui devil;" but as I retired discreetly before the
play was finished, there were no serious results. I have only
given the above as an instance of the impossibility of decid
ing upon the outward and superficial expression of Chinese
mirth. Of its inner and deeper existence I have some private
doubts. An audience that will view with a serious aspect
the hero, after a frightful and agonizing death, get up and
quietly walk off the stage, cannot be said to have remarkable
perceptions of the ludicrous.
I have often been struck with the delicate pliability of the
Chinese expression and taste, that might suggest a broader
and deeper criticism than is becoming these pages. A China
man will adopt the American costume, and wear it with a
taste of colour and detail that will surpass those "native, and
to the manner born." To look at a Chinese slipper, one
might imagine it impossible to shape the original foot to any
thing less cumbrous and roomy, yet a neater-fitting boot than
that belonging to the Americanized Chinaman is rarely seen
on this side of the Continent. When the loose sack or pale
tot takes the place of his brocade blouse, it is worn with a
refinement and grace that might bring a jealous pang to the
exquisite of our more refined civilization. Pantaloons fall
easily and naturally over legs that have known unlimited
freedom and bagginess, and even garrote collars meet cor
rectly around sun-tanned throats. The new expression
seldom overflows in gaudy cravats. I will back my Ameri
canized Chinaman against any neophyte of European birth
in the choice of that article. While in our own State, the
JOHN CHINAMAN. 1 5 5
Greaser resists one by one the garments of the Northern
invader, and even wears the livery of his conqueror with a
wild and buttonless freedom, the Chinaman, abused and de
graded as he is, changes by correctly graded transition to
the garments of Christian civilization. There is but one
article of European wear that he avoids. These Bohemian
eyes have never yet been pained by the spectacle of a tall hat
on the head of an intelligent Chinaman.
My acquaintance with John has been made up of weekly
interviews, involving the adjustment of the washing accounts,
so that I have not been able to study his character from a
social view-point, or observe him in the privacy of the
domestic circle. I have gathered enough to justify me in
believing him to be generally honest, faithful, simple, and
painstaking. Of his simplicity let me record an instance,
where a sad and civil young Chinaman brought me certain
shirts with most of the buttons missing and others hanging
on delusively by a single thread. In a moment of unguarded
irony, I informed him that unity would at least have been
preserved if the buttons were removed altogether. He
smiled sadly and went away. I thought I had hurt his
feelings, until the next week, when he brought me my shirts
with a look of intelligence, and the buttons carefully and
totally erased. A.t another time, to guard against his general
disposition to carry off anything as soiled clothes that ho
thought could hold water, I requested him to always wait
until he saw me. Coming home late one evening, I found
the household in great consternation over an immovable
Celestial who had remained seated on the front door-step
during the day, sad and submissive, firm, but also patient,
and only betraying any animation or token of his mission
rhen he saw me coming. This same Chinaman evinced
Eome] evidences of regard for a little girl in the family, who
&i her turn reposed such faith in his intellectual qualities as
to present him with a preternaturally uninteresting Sunday-
156 FROM A BACK WINDOW.
school book, her own property. This book John made a
point of carrying ostentatiously with him in his weekly
visits. It appeared usually on the top of the clean clothes,
and was sometimes painfully clasped outside of the big
bundle of solid linen. Whether John believed he uncon
sciously imbibed some spiritual life through its pasteboard
cover, as the Prince in the Arabian Nights imbibed the
medicine through the handle of the mallet, or whether he
wished to exhibit a due sense of gratitude, or whether he
hadn't any pockets, I have never been able to ascertain. In
his turn he would sometimes cut marvellous imitation roses
from carrots for his little friend. I am inclined to think
that the few roses strewn in John's path were such scentless
imitations. The thorns only were real. From the persecu
tions of the young and old of a certain class, his life was a
torment. I don't know what was the exact philosophy that
Confucius taught, but it is to be hoped that poor John in his
persecution is still able to detect the conscious hate and fear
with which inferiority always regards the possibility of
even-handed justice, and which is the key-note to the vulgar
clamour about servile and degraded races.
FROM A BACK WINDOW,
T REMEMBER that long ago, as a sanguine and trustful
•*• child, I became possessed of a highly coloured litho
graph, representing a fair Circassian sitting by a window.
The price I paid for this work of art may have been extra
vagant, even in youth's fluctuating slate-pencil currency ;
but the secret joy I felt in its possession knew no pecuniary
equivalent. It was not alone that Nature in Circassia
lavished alike upon the cheek of beauty and the vegetable
kingdom that most expensive of colours — Lake ; nor was it
FROM A BACK WINDOW. 157
that the rose which bloomed beside the fair Circassian's
window had no visible stem, and was directly grafted upon a
marble balcony ; but it was because it embodied an idea.
That idea was a hinting of my Fate. I felt that somewhere
a young and fair Circassian was sitting by a window looking
out for me. The idea of resisting such an array of charms
and colour never occurred to me, and to my honour be it
recorded, that during the feverish period of adolescence I
never thought of averting my destiny. But as vacation and
holiday came and went, and as my picture at first grew
blurred, and then faded quite away between the Eastern and
Western continents in my atlas, so its charm seemed myste
riously to pass away. When I became convinced that few
females, of Circassian or other origin, sat pensively resting
their chins on their henna-tinged nails, at their parlour
windows, I turned my attention to back windows. Although
the fair Circassian has not yet burst upon me with open
shutters, some peculiarities not unworthy of note have fallen
under my observation. This knowledge has not been gained
without sacrifice. I have made myself familiar with back
windows and their prospects, in the weak disguise of seeking
lodgings, heedless of the suspicious glances of landladies and
their evident reluctance to show them. I have caught cold
by long exposure to draughts. I have become estranged
from friends by unconsciously walking to their back windows
during a visit, when the weekly linen hung upon the line, or
where Miss Fanny (ostensibly indisposed) actually assisted in
the laundry, and Master Bobby, in scant attire, disported
himself on the area railings. But I have thought of
Galileo, and the invariable experience of all seekers and
discoverers of truth has sustained me.
Show me the back windows of a man's dwelling, and I
will tell you his character. The rear of a house only is
sincere. The attitude of deception kept up at the front
windows leaves the back area defenceless. The world enters
ISS FROM A BACK WINDOW.
at the front door, but nature comes out at the back passage.
That glossy, well-brushed individual, who lets himself in
with a latch-key at the front door at night, is a very different
being from the slipshod wretch who growls of mornings for
hot water at the door of the kitchen. The same with
Madame, whose contour of figure grows angular, whose face
grows pallid, whose hair comes down, and who looks some
ten years older through the sincere medium of a back
window. No wonder that intimate friends fail to recognize
each other in this dos d, dos position. You may imagine
yourself familiar with the silver door-plate and bow- windows
of the mansion where dwells your Saccharissa ; you may
even fancy you recognize her graceful figure between the
lace curtains of the upper chamber which you fondly imagine
to be hers; but you shall dwell for months in the rear of
her dwelling and within whispering distance of her bower,
and never know it. You shall see her with a handkerchief
tied round her head in confidential discussion with the
butcher, and know her not. You shall hear her voice in
shrill expostulation with her younger brother, and it shall
awaken no familiar response.
I am writing at a back window. As I prefer the warmth of
my coal- fire to the foggy freshness of the afternoon breeze that
rattles the leafless shrubs in the garden below me, I have
my window-sash closed ; consequently, I miss much of the
shrilly altercation that has been going on in the kitchen of
No. 7 jiist opposite. I have heard fragments of an enter
taining style of dialogue usually known as "chaffing,"
which has just taken place between Biddy in No. 9, and the
butcher who brings the dinner. I have been pitying the
chilled aspect of a poor canary, put out to taste the fresh air,
from the window of No 5. I have been watching — and
envying, I fear — the real enjoyment of two children raking
over an old dust-heap in the alley, containing the waste and
debris of all the back yards in the neighbourhood. What a
BOONDER. 159
wealth of soda-water bottles and old iron they have acquired !
But I am waiting for an even more familiar prospect from
tny back window. I know that later in the afternoon, when
the evening paper comes, a thickset, grey-haired man will
appear in his shirt-sleeves at the back door of No. 9, and,
seating himself on the door-step, begin to read. He lives in
a pretentious house, and I hear he is a rich man. But there
is such humility in his attitude, and such evidence of
gratitude at being allowed to sit outside of his own house
and read his paper in his shirt sleeves, that I can picture his
domestic history pretty clearly. Perhaps he is following
some old habit of humbler days. Perhaps he has entered
into an agreement with his wife not to indulge his disgraceful
habit in-doors. He does not look like a man who could be
coaxed into a dressing-gown. In front of his own palatial
residence, I know him to be a quiet and respectable middle-
aged business-man, but it is from my back window that my
heart warms toward him in his shirt-sleeved simplicity. So
I sit and watch him in the twilight as he reads gravely, and
wonder sometimes, when he looks up, squares his chest, and
folds his paper thoughtfully over his knee, whether he doesn't
fancy he hears the letting down of bars, or the tinkling of
bells, as the cows come home, and stand lowing for him at
the gate.
BOONDER.
T NEVER knew how the subject of this memoir came to
attach himself so closely to the affections of my family.
He was not a prepossessing dog. He was not a dog of even
average birth and breeding. His pedigree was involved in
the deepest obscurity. He may have had brothers and sisters,
but in the whole range of my canine acquaintance (a pretty
extensive one), I never detected any of Boonder's peculiarities
1 63 BOONDER.
in any other of his species. His body was long, and his
fore-legs and hind-legs were very wide apart, as though
Nature originally intended to put an extra pair between
them, but had unwisely allowed herself to be persuaded out
of it. This peculiarity was annoying on cold nights, as it
always prolonged the interval of keeping the door open for
Boonder's ingress long enough to allow two or three dogs of
a reasonable length to enter. Boonder's feet were decided j
his toes turned out considerably, and in repose his favourite
attitude was the first position of dancing. Add to a pair
of bright eyes ears that seemed to belong to some other
dog, and a symmetrically-pointed nose that fitted all aper
tures like a pass-key, and you have Boonder as we knew
him.
I am inclined to think that his popularity was mainly
owing to his quiet impudence. His advent in the family
was that of an old member, who had been absent for a short
time, but had returned to familiar haunts and associations.
In a Pythagorean point of view this might have been the
case, but I cannot recall any deceased member of the family
who was in life partial to bone-burying (though it might be
post mortem a consistent amusement), and this was Boonder's
great weakness. He was at first discovered coiled up on a
rug in an upper chamber, and was the least disconcerted of
the entire household. From that moment Boonder became
one of its recognised members, and privileges, often denied
the most intelligent and valuable of his species, were quietly
taken by him and submitted to by us. Thus, if he were
found coiled up in a clothes-basket, or any article of clothing
assumed locomotion on its own account, we only said, " O,
it's Boonder," with a feeling of relief that it was nothing
worse.
I have spoken of his fondness for bone-burying. It could
not be called an economical faculty, for he invariably forgot
the locality of his treasure, and covered the garden with
BOONDER. 161
purposeless holes ; but although the violets and daisies were
not improved by Boonder's gardening, no one ever thought
of punishing him. He became a synonyme for Fate ; a
Boonder to be grumbled at, to be accepted philosophically, —
but never to be averted. But although he was not an
intelligent dog, nor an ornamental dog, he possessed some
gentlemanly instincts. When he performed his only feat, —
begging upon his hind legs (and looking remarkably like a
penguin), — ignorant strangers would offer him crackers or
cake, which he didn't like, as a reward of merit. Boonder
always made a great show of accepting the proffered dainties,
and even made hypocritical contortions as if swallowing, but
always deposited the morsel when he was unobserved in the
first convenient receptacle, — usually the visitor's overshoes.
In matters that did not involve courtesy, Boonder was sin
cere in his likes and dislikes. He was instinctively opposed
to the railroad. When the track was laid through our
street, Boonder maintained a defiant attitude toward every
rail as it went down, and resisted the cars shortly after to
the fullest extent of his lungs. I have a vivid recollection
of seeing him, on the day of the trial trip, come down the
street in front of the car, barking himself out of all shape,
and thrown back several feet by the recoil of each bark.
But Boonder was not the only one who has resisted inno
vations, or has lived to see the innovation prosper and
even crush But I am anticipating. Boonder had pre
viously resisted the gas, but although he spent one whole
day in angry altercation with the workmen, — leaving his
bones unburied and bleaching in the sun somehow — the gas
went in. The Spring Valley water was likewise unsuccess
fully opposed, and the grading of an adjoining lot was for a
long time a personal matter between Boonder and the con
tractor.
These peculiarities seemed to evince some decided cha
racter and embody some idea. A prolonged debate in the
M
i62 BOONDER.
family upon this topic resulted in an addition to his name,—
we called him "Boonder the Conservative," with a faint
acknowledgment of his fateful power. But, although Boon
der had his own way, his path was not entirely of roses.
Thorns sometimes pricked his sensibilities. When certain
minor chords were struck on the piano, Boonder was always
painfully affected and howled a remonstrance. If he were
removed for company's sake to the back yard, at the recur
rence of the provocation, he would go his whole length
(which was something) to improvise a howl that should
reach the performer. But we got accustomed to Boonder,
and as we were fond of music the playing went on.
One morning Boonder left the house in good spirits with
his regular bone in his mouth, and apparently the usual
intention of burying it. The next day he was picked up
lifeless on the track, — run over, apparently, by the first car
that went out of the dep6t.
SENSATION NOVELS
CONDENSED.
SELINA SEDILIA.
BY MISS M. E. B-DD-N AND MRS. H-N-Y W-D.
CHAPTER I.
'"PHE sun was setting over Sloperton Grange, and red
dened the windows of the lonely chamber in the
western tower, supposed to be haunted by Sir Edward
Sedilia, the founder of the Grange. In the dreamy distance
arose the gilded mausoleum of Lady Felicia Sedilia, who
haunted that portion of Sedilia Manor known as " Stiff-uns
Acre." A little to the left of the Grange might have been
seen a mouldering ruin, known as " Guy's Keep," haunted
by the spirit of Sir Guy Sedilia, who was found, one morning,
crushed by one of the fallen battlements. Yet, as the setting
sun gilded these objects, a beautiful and almost holy calm
seemed diffused about the Grange.
The Lady Selina sat by an oriel window overlooking the
park. The sun sank gently in the bosom of the German
Ocean, and yet the lady did not lift her beautiful head from
the finely-curved arm and diminutive hand which supported
it. When darkness finally shrouded the landscape, she
started, for the sound of horse-hoofs clattered over the stones
of the avenue. She had scarcely risen before an aristocratic
young man fell on his knees before her.
"My Selina!"
" Edgardo ! You here ] "
" Yes, dearest."
" And — you — you — have — seen nothing ? " said the lady
166 SELINA SEDILIA.
in an agitated voice and nervous manner, turning her face
aside to conceal her emotion.
" Nothing — that is. nothing of any account," said Edgardo.
if I passed the ghost of your aunt in the park, noticed the
spectre of your uncle in the ruined keep, and observed the
familiar features of the spirit of your great grandfather at
his post. But nothing beyond these trifles, my Selina.
Nothing more, love, absolutely nothing."
The young man turned his dark liquid orbs fondly upon
the ingenuous face of his betrothed.
" My own Edgardo ! — and you still love me ? You still
would marry me in spite of this dark mystery which sur
rounds me ? In spite of the fatal history of my race 1 In.
spite of the ominous predictions of my aged nurse ? "
" I would, Selina ; " and the young man passed his arm
around her yielding waist. The two lovers gazed at each
other's faces in unspeakable bliss. Suddenly Selina started.
" Leave me, Edgardo ! leave me ! A mysterious some
thing — a fatal misgiving — a dark ambiguity — an equivocal
mistrust oppresses me. I would be alone ! "
The young man arose, and cast a loving glance on the
lady. " Then we will be married on the seventeenth."
"The seventeenth," repeated Selina, with a mysterious
shudder.
They embraced and parted. As the clatter of hoofs in
the courtyard died away, the Lady Selina sank into the chair
she had just quitted.
" The seventeenth," she repeated slowly, with the same fatal
shudder. "Ah ! — what if he should know that I have another
husband living? Dare I reveal to him that I have two
legitimate and three natural children ? Dare I repeat to
him the history of my youth ? Dare I confess that at the age
of seven I poisoned my sister, by putting verdigris in her
cream tarts — that I threw my cousin from a swing at the
age of twelve? That the lady's-maid who incurred the
SELINA SEDILIA. 167
displeasure of my girlhood now lies at the bottom of the
horsepond 1 No ! no ! he is too pure — too good — too inno
cent, to hear such improper conversation ! " and her whole
body writhed as she rocked to and fro in a paroxysm of
grief.
But she was soon calm. Rising to her feet, she opened a
secret panel in the wall, and revealed a slow-match ready
for lighting.
" This match," said the Lady Selina, " is connected with a
mine beneath the western tower, where my three children
are confined ; another branch of it lies under the parish
church, where the record of my first marriage is kept. I
have only to light this match and the whole of my past life
is swept away ! She approached the match with a lighted
candle.
But a hand was laid upon her arm, and with a shriek the
Lady Selina fell on her knees before the spectre of Sir Guy.
CHAPTER II.
"FoBBEAR, Selina," said the phantom in a hollow voice.
"Why should I forbear?" responded Selina haughtily, as
she recovered her courage. " You know the secret of our
race ? "
" I do. Understand me — I do not object to the eccen
tricities of your youth. I know the fearful fate which, pur
suing you, led you to poison your sister and drown your
lady's-maid. I know the awful doom which I have brought
upon this house ! But if you make away with these chil
dren "
" Well ? " said the Lady Selina hastily.
" They will haunt jon ! "
" Well, I fear them not," said Selina, drawing her superb
figure to its full height.
" But what place are they to haunt ? The ruin is sacred
1 63 SELINA S ED ILIA.
to your uncle's spirit. Your aunt monopolises ths park, and,
I must be allowed to state, not unfrequently trespasses upon
the grounds of others. The horsepond is frequented by the
spirit of your maid, and your murdered sister walks these
corridors. To be plain, there is no room at Sloperton
Grange for another ghost. I cannot have them in my room
— for you know I don't like children. Think of this, rash
girl, and forbear ! Would you, Selina," said the phantom
mournfully, " would you force your great grandfather's spirit
to take lodgings elsewhere t "
Lady Selina's hand trembled j the lighted candle fell from
her nerveless fingers.
" No," she cried passionately, " never ! " and fell fainting
to the floor.
CHAPTER III.
EDGARDO galloped rapidly towards Sloperton. When the
outline of the Grange had faded away in the darkness, he
reined his magnificent steed beside the ruins of Guy's Keep.
" It wants but a few minutes of the hour," he said, consult
ing his watch by the light of the moon. " He dared not
break his word. He will come." He paused, and peered
anxiously into the darkness. " But come what may, she is
mine," he continued, as his thoughts reverted fondly to the
fair lady he had quitted. " Yet if she knew all. If she
knew that I were a disgraced and ruined man — a felon and
an outcast. If she knew that at the age of fourteen I
murdered my Latin tutor and forged my uncle's will. If
she knew that I had three wives already, and that the fourth
victim of misplaced confidence and my unfortunate pecu
liarity is expected to be at Sloperton by to-night's train with
her baby. But no ; she must not know it. Constance must
not arrive. Burke the Slogger must attend to that.
"Ha! here he is! Well?"
SELINA SEDILIA. 169
These words were addressed to a ruffian in a slouched hat,
who suddenly appeared from Guy's Keep.
" I be's here, nieaster," said the villain, with a disgrace
fully low accent and complete disregard of grammatical rules.
"It is well. Listen : I'm in possession of facts that will
send you to the gallows. I know of the murder of Bill
Smith era, the robbery of the toll-gate keeper, and the making
away of the youngest daughter of Sir [Reginald de Walton.
A word from me, and the officers of justice are on your
track."
Burke the Slogger trembled.
" Hark ye ! serve my purpose, and I may yet save you.
(The 5.30 train from Clapham will be due at Sloperton at
9.25. It must not arrive !"
The villain's eyes sparkled as he nodded at Edgardo.
" Enough — you understand ; leave me 1 "
CHAPTER IV.
ABOUT half a mile from Sloperton Station the South Clapham
and Medway line crossed a bridge over Sloperton-on-Trent.
As the shades of evening were closing, a man in a slouched
hat might have been seen carrying a saw and axe under his
arm, hanging about the bridge. From time to time he dis
appeared in the shadow of its abutments, but the sound of
a saw and axe still betrayed his vicinity. At exactly nine
o'clock he reappeared, and crossing to the Sloperton side,
rested his shoulder against the abutment and gave a shove.
The bridge swayed a moment, and then fell with a splash
into the water, leaving a space of one hundred feet between
the two banks. This done, Burke the Slogger — for it was he
— with a fiendish chuckle seated himself on the divided rail
way track and awaited the coming of the train.
A shriek from the woods announced its approach. For
an instant Burke the Slogger saw the glaring of a red lamp.
i;o SELINA SEDILIA.
The ground trembled. The train was going with fearful
rapidity. Another second and it had reached the bank.
Burke the Slogger uttered a fiendish laugh. But the next
moment the train leaped across the chasm, striking the rails
exactly even, and, dashing out the life of Burke the Slogger,
sped away to Sloperton.
The first object that greeted Edgardo as he rode up to the
station on the arrival of the train, was the body of Burke
the Slogger hanging on the cow-catcher; the second was the
the face of his deserted wife looking from the windows of a
second-class carriage.
CHAPTER V.
A NAMELESS terror seemed to have taken possession of Cla
rissa, Lady Selina's maid, as she rushed into the presence of
her mistress.
" Oh, my lady, such news !"
" Explain yourself," said her mistress, rising.
"An accident has happened on the railway, and a man
has been killed."
" What — not Edgardo ! " almost screamed Selina.
" No, Burke the Slogger, your ladyship ! "
"My first husband!" said Lady Selina, sinking on her
knees. "Just Heaven, I thank thee !"
CHAPTER VI.
THE morning of the seventeenth dawned brightly over Slo
perton. " A fine day for the wedding," said the sexton to
Swipes, the butler of Sloperton Grange. The aged retainer
shook his head sadly. "Alas! there's no trusting in signs !"
he continued. " Seventy-five years ago, on a day like this,
my young mistress " but he was cut short by the appear
ance of a stranger.
SELINA SEDILIA. 171
" I would see Sir Edgardo," said the new-comer im
patiently.
" The bridegroom, who, with the rest of the wedding trails
was about stepping into the carriage to proceed to the parish
church, drew the stranger aside.
" It's done !" said the stranger, in a hoarse whisper.
" Ah ! and you buried her 1 "
"With the others!"
"Enough. No more at present. Meet me after the
ceremony, and you shall have your reward."
The stranger shuffled away, and Edgardo returned to his
bride. " A trifling matter of business I had forgotten, my
dear Selina ; let us proceed," and the young man pressed the
timid hand of his blushing bride as he handed her into the
carriage. The cavalcade rode out of the courtyard. At the
same moment, the deep bell on Guy's Keep tolled ominously.
CHAPTER VII.
SCARCELY had the wedding train left the Grange than Alice
Sedilia, youngest daughter of Lady Selina, made her escape
from the western tower, owing to a lack of watchfulness on
the part of Clarissa. The innocent child, freed from re
straint, rambled through the lonely corridors, and finally,
opening a door, found herself in her mother's boudoir For
some time she amused herself by examining the various orna
ments and elegant trifles with which it was filled. Then, in
pursuance of a childish freak, she dressed herself in her
mother's laces and ribbons. In this occupation she chanced
to touch a peg which proved to be a spring that opened a
secret panel in the wall. Alice uttered a cry of delight as
she noticed what, to her childish fancy, appeared to be the
slow-match of a firework. Taking a lucifer match in her
hand she approached the fuse. She hesitated a moment,
What would her mother and her nurse say ?
SELINA SEDILIA.
Suddenly the ringing of the chimes of Sloperton parish
church met her ear. Alice knew that the sound signified
tha.t the marriage party had entered the church, and that she
was secured from interruption. With a childish smile upon
her lips, Alice Sedilia touched off the slow-match.
CHAPTER VIII.
AT exactly two o'clock on the seventeenth, Eupert Sedelia,
who had just returned from India, was thoughtfully descend
ing the hill towards Sloperton Manor. " If I can prove that
my aunt, Lady Selina, was married before my father died,
I can establish my claim to Sloperton Grange," he uttered,
half aloud. He paused, for a sudden trembling of the earth
beneath his feet, and a terrific explosion, as of a park of
artillery, arrested his progress. At the same moment he
beheld a dense cloud of smoke envelop the churchyard of
Sloperton, and the western tower of the Grange seemed to be
lifted bodily from its foundation. The air seemed filled with
falling fragments, and two dark objects struck the earth close
at his feet. Rupert picked them up. One seemed to be a
heavy volume bound in brass.
A cry burst from his lips.
" The Parish Records." He opened the volume hastily.
It contained the marriage of Lady Selina to " Burke the
Slogger."
The second object proved to be a piece of parchment. He
tore it open with trembling fingers. It was the missing will
of Sir James Sedilia I
CHAPTER IX.
WHEN the bells again rang on the new parish church of
Sloperton it was for the marriage of Sir Rupert Sedilia and
his cousin, the only remaining members of the family.
FANTINE. 173
Five more ghosts were added to the supernatural popula
tion of Sloperton Grange. Perhaps this was the reason why
Sir Rupert sold the property shortly afterward, and that for
many years a dark shadow seemed to hang over the ruins of
Sloperton Grange.
FANTINE.
AFTER THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO.
— :-o-: —
PROLOGUE.
As long as there shall exist three paradoxes — a moral Frenchman, a
religious Atheist, and a believing sceptic— so long, in fact, as book
sellers shall wait — say twenty-five years — for a new gospel; so long as
paper shall remain cheap and ink three sous a bottle, I have no hesita
tion in saying that such books as these are not utterly profitless.
VICTOR HUGO.
'"PO be good is to be queer. What is a good man?
Bishop Myriel.
My friend, you will possibly object to this. You will say
you know what a good man is. Perhaps you will say your
clergyman is a good man, for instance.
Bah ! you are mistaken j you are an Englishman, and an
Englishman is a beast.
Englishmen think they are moral when they are only
serious. These Englishmen also wear ill-shaped hats, and
dress horribly !
Bah ! they are canaille.
Still, Bishop Myriel was a good man — quite as good as
you. Better than you, in fact.
One day M. Myriel was in Paris. This angel used to
walk about the streets like any other man. He was not
174 FANTINE.
proud, though fine-looking. Well, three gamins de Pans
called him bad names. Says one :
" -A h, mon Dieu I there goes a priest ; look out for your
eggs and chickens ! "
What did this good man do 1 He called to them kindly :
" My children," said he, " this is clearly not your fault. I
recognise in this insult and irreverence only the fault of
your immediate progenitors. Let us pray for your immediate
progenitors."
They knelt down and prayed for their immediate pro
genitors.
The effect was touching.
The bishop looked calmly around :
" On reflection," said he, gravely, " I was mistaken ; this
is clearly the fault of Society. Let us pray for Society."
They knelt down and prayed for Society.
The effect was sublimer yet. What do you think of that ?
You, I mean.
Everybody remembers the story of the Bishop and Mother
Nez Retrousse. Old Mother Nez RetroussS sold asparagus.
She was poor ; there's a great deal of meaning in that word,
my friend. Some people say " poor but honest ; " I say,
Bah!
Bishop Myriel bought six bunches of asparagus. This
good man had one charming failing ; he was fond of
asparagus. He gave her a franc and received three sous
change.
The sous were bad — counterfeit. What did this good
Bishop do ] He said : " I should not have taken change
from a poor woman."
Then afterwards to his housekeeper : " Never take change
from a poor woman."
" Then he added to himself: " For the sous will probably
be bad."
FANTINE. 175
•
ir.
WHEN a man commits a crime Society claps him in prison.
A prison is one of the worst hotels imaginable. The people
there are low and vulgar. The butter is bad, the coffee is
green. Ah, it is horrible !
In prison, as in a bad hotel, a man soon loses, not only his
morals, but what is much worse to a Frenchman, his sense of
refinement and delicacy.
Jean Valjean came from prison with confused notions of
society. He forgot the modern peculiarities of hospitality.
So he walked off with the Bishop's candlesticks.
Let us consider : candlesticks were stolen \ that was
evident. Society put Jean Valjean in prison ; that was
evident, too. In prison, Society took away his refinement ;
that is evident, likewise.
Who is Society 1
You and I are Society.
My friend, you and I stole those candlesticks I
in.
THE Bishop thought so, too. He meditated profoundly
for six days. On the morning of the seventh he went to the
Prefecture of Police.
He said: "Monsieur, have me arrested. I have stolen
candlesticks."
The official was governed by the law of Society, and
refused.
What did this Bishop do ?
He had a charming ball and chain made, affixed to his
leg, and wore it the rest of his life.
This is a fact !
iv.
LOVE is a mystery.
A little friend of mine clown in the country, at Auvergne,
176 FANTINE.
said to me one day : ''Victor, Love is the world — it contains
everything."
She was only sixteen, this sharp-witted little girl, and a
beautiful blonde. She thought everything of me.
Fantine was one of those women who do wrong in the
most virtuous and touching manner. This is a peculiarity
of French grisettes.
You are an Englishman, and you don't understand.
Learn, my friend, learn. Come to Paris and improve your
morals
Fantine was the soul of modesty. She always wore high-
neck dresses. High-neck dresses are a sign of modesty.
Fantine loved Thomolyes. Why 1 My God ! What are
you to do 1 It was the fault of her parents, and she hadn't
any. How shall you teach her? You must teach the
parent if you wish to educate the child. How would you
become virtuous 1
Teach your grandmother !
v.
WHEN Thomolyes ran away from Fantine — which was
done in a charming, gentlemanly manner — Fantine became
convinced that a rigid sense of propriety might look upon
her conduct as immoral. She was a creature of sensitiveness
— and her eyes were opened.
She was virtuous still, and resolved to break off the liaison
at once.
So she put up her wardrobe and baby in a bundle. Child
as she was, she loved them both. Then left Paris.
VI.
FANTINE'S native place had changed.
M. Madeline — an angel, and inventor of jet-work, had
been teaching the villagers how to make spurious jet i
FANTINE. 177
This is a progressive age. Those Americans — children of
the West — they make nutmegs out of wood.
I, myself, have seen hams made of pine, in the wigwams
of those children of the forest.
But civilisation has acquired deception too. Society is
made up of deception. Even the best French society.
Still there was one sincere episode.
Eh?
The French Revolution !
VII.
M. MADELINE was, if anything, better than Myriel.
M. Myriel was a saint. M. Madeline a good man.
M. Myriel was dead. M. Madeline was living.
That made all the difference.
M. Madeline made virtue profitable. I have seen it
written :
"Be virtuous and you will be happy."
"Where did I see this written] In the modern Bible]
No. In the Koran ? No. In Rousseau ? No. Diderot ?
No. Where then?
In a copy book.
VIII.
M. MADELINE was M. le Mairo.
This is how it came about.
For a long time he refused the honour. One day an old
woman, standing on the steps, said :
" Bah, a good mayor is a good thing.
" You are a good thing.
" Be a good mayor."
This woman was a rhetorician. She understood inductive
ratiocination.
IX.
WHEN this good M. Madeline, whom the reader will
derceive must have been a former convict, and a very bad
N
178 TERENCE DEUVILLE.
man — gave himself up to justice as the real Jean Valjean ;
about this same time, Fantine was turned away from the
manufactory, and met with a number of losses from society.
Society attacked her, and this is what she lost :
First her lover.
Then her child.
Then her place.
Then her hair.
Then her teeth.
Then her liberty.
Then her life.
What do you think of society after that 1 I tell you the
present social system is a humbug.
THIS is necessarily the end of Fantine.
There are other things that will be stated in other volumes
to follow. Don't be alarmed ; there are plenty of miserable
people left.
Au revoir my friend.
TERENCE DEUVILLE.
BY CH-L-S L-V-R.
CHAPTER I.
MY HOME.
'J'HE little village of Pilwiddle is one of the smallest
and obscurest hamlets on the western coast of Ireland.
On, a lofty crag, overlooking the hoarse Atlantic, stands
" Deuville's Shot Tower" — a corruption by the peasantry of
D 'Eauvillds Chdteau, so called from my great-grandfather,
Phelim St. Kemy D'Euville, who assumed the name and
TERENCE DEUVILLE. 179
title of a French heiress with whom he ran away. To this
{act my familiar knowledge and excellent pronunciation of
the French language may be attributed, as well as many of
the events which covered my after life.
The Deuvilles were always passionately fond of field
sports. At the age of four, I was already the boldest rider
and the best shot in the country. When only eight, I won
the St. Remy Cup at the Pilwiddle races — riding my
favourite bloodinare Hellfire. As I approached the stand
amidst the plaudits of the assembled multitude, and cries
of " Thrue for ye, Masther Terence," and " Oh, but it's a
Diuville ! " there was a slight stir among the gentry, who
surrounded the Lord Lieutenant, and other titled personages
whom the race had attracted thither. " How young he is
— a mere child ; and yet how noble looking," said a sweet,
low voice, which thrilled my soul.
I looked up and met the full liquid orbs of the Hon.
Blanche Fitzroy Sackville, youngest daughter of the Lord
Lieutenant. She blushed deeply. I turned pale and almost
fainted. But the cold, sneering tones of a masculine voico
sent the blood back again into my youthful cheek.
" Very likely the ragged scion of one of these banditti
Irish gentry, who has taken naturally to 'the road.' He
should be at school — though I warrant me his knowledge
of Terence will not extend beyond his own name," said
Lord Henry Somerset, aide-de-camp to the Lord Lieu
tenant.
A moment and I was perfectly calm, though cold as ice.
Dismounting, and stepping to the side of the speaker, I said
in a low, firm voice :
" Had your Lordship read Terence more carefully, you
would have learned that banditti are sometimes proficient in
other arts beside horsemanship," and I touched his holster
significantly with my hand. I had not read Terence my
self, but with the skilful audacity of my race I calculated
i8o TERENCE DEUVILLE.
that a vague allusion, coupled with a threat, would em
barrass him. It did.
"Ah — what mean you?" he said, white with rage.
"Enough, we are observed," I replied; "Father Tom
will wait on you this evening ; and to-morrow morning,
my lord, in the glen below Pilwiddle we will meet
again."
"Father Tom — glen!" ejaculated the Englishman, with
genuine surprise. " What ? do priests carry challenges and
act as seconds in your infernal country ?'
"Yes!" I answered scornfully, "why should they not 1
Their services are more often necessary than those of a
surgeon," I added significantly, turning away.
The party slowly rode off, with the exception of the Hon.
Blanche Sackville, who lingered for a moment behind. In
an instant I was at her side. Bending her blushing face
over the neck of her white filly, she said hurriedly :
" "Words have passed between Lord Somerset and your
self. You are about to fight. Don't deny it — but hear me.
You will meet him — I know your skill of weapons. He
will be at your mercy. I entreat you to spare his life ! "
I hesitated. "Never!" I cried passionately; "he has
insulted a Deuville ! "
" Terence," she whispered, " Terence — -for my sake?"
The blood rushed to my cheeks at the loving epithets,
and her eyes sought the ground in bashful confusion.
" You love him then !" I cried, bitterly.
" No, no/' she said, agitatedly, " no, you do me wrong.
I — I — cannot explain myself. My father! — the Lady
Dowager Sackville — the estate of Sackville — the borough
— my uncle, Fitzroy Somerset. Ah 1 what am I saying 1
Forgive me. Oh, Terence," she said, as her beautiful head
sank on my shoulder, " you know not what I suffer ! "
I seized her hand and covered it with passionate kisses.
But the high-bred English girl, recovering something of her
TERENCE DEUVILLE. 181
former hauteur, said hastily, " Leave me, leave me, but
promise ! "
" I promise/' I replied, enthusiastically : " I will spare his
life !"
" Thanks, Terence — thanks !" and disengaging her hand
from my lips she rode rapidly away.
The next morning, the Hon. Capt. Henry Somerset and
myself exchanged nineteen shots in the glen, and at each
fire I shot away a button from his uniform. As my last
bullet shot off the last button from his sleeve, I remarked
quietly, " You seem now, my lord, to be almost as ragged as
the gentry you sneered at," and rode haughtily away.
CHAPTER II.
THE FIGHTING FIFTY-SIXTH.
WHEN I was nineteen years old my father sold the Chdteau
d 'Euville and purchased my commission in the " Fifty-sixth"
with the proceeds. " I say, Deuville," said young McSpad-
den, a boy-faced ensign, who had just joined, "you'll repre
sent the estate in the Army, if you won't in the House."
Poor fellow, he paid for his meaningless joke with his life,
for I shot him through the heart the next morning. " You're
a good fellow, Deuville," said the poor boy, faintly, as I
knelt beside him: "good-bye!" For the first time since
my grandfather's death I wept. I could not help thinking
that I would have been a better man if Blanche — but why
proceed 1 Was she not now in Florence — the belle of the
English Embassy 1
But Napoleon had returned from Elba. Europe was in
a blaze of excitement. The Allies were preparing to resist
the Man of Destiny. We were ordered from Gibraltar
home, and were soon again en route for Brussels. I did not
regret that I was to be p.\iced in active service. I was am
bitious, and longed for an opportunity to distinguish myself.
1 82 TERENCE DEUVILLE.
My garrison life in Gibraltar had been monotonous and dull.
I had killed five men in duel, and had an affair with the
colonel of my regiment, who handsomely apologised before
the matter assumed a serious aspect. I had been twice in
love. Yet these were but boyish freaks and follies. I
wished to be a man.
The time soon came — the morning of Waterloo. But
why describe that momentous battle, on which the fate of
the entire world was hanging ? Twice were the Fifty-sixth
surrounded by French cuirassiers, and twice did we mow
them down by our fire. I had seven horses shot under me,
and was mounting the eighth, when an orderly rode up
hastily, touched his cap, and handing me a despatch, gal
loped rapidly away.
I opened it hurriedly and read :
" LET PlCTON ADVANCE IMMEDIATELY ON THE RIGHT."
I saw it all at a glance. I had been mistaken for a general
officer. But what was to be done ? Picton's division was
two miles away, only accessible through a heavy cross fire
of artillery and musketry. But my mind was made up.
In an instant I was engaged with an entire squadron of
cavalry, who endeavoured to surround me. Cutting my way
through them, I advanced boldly upon a battery and sabred
the gunners before they could bring their pieces to bear.
Looking around, I saw that I had in fact penetrated the
French centre. Before I was well aware of the locality, I
was hailed by a sharp voice in French :
" Come here, sir ! "
I obeyed, and advanced to the side of a little man in a
cocked hat.
« Has Grouchy come ? "
" Not yet, sire," I replied — for it was the Emperor.
" Ha ! " he said suddenly, bending his piercing eyes on
my uniform ; " a prisoner ? "
"Kb, sire," I replied proudly.
TERENCE DEUVILLE. 183
"A spy?"
1 placed my hand upon my sword, hut a gesture from the
Emperor made me forbear."
" You arc a brave man," he said.
I took my snuff-box from my pocket, and taking a pinch,
replied by handing it, with a bow, to the Emperor.
His quick eye caught the cipher on the lid.
" What ! a Deuville ! " Ha ! this accounts for the purity
of your accent. Any relation to Roderick d'Euvillc ? "
" My father, sire 1 "
"He was my schoolfellow at the Ecole Poly technique.
Embrace me ! " and the Emperor fell upon my neck in the
presence of his entire staff. Then recovering himself, lie
gently placed in my hand his own magnificent snuff-box, in
exchange for mine, and hanging upon my breast the cross of
the Legion of Honour which he took from his own, he bade
one of his marshals conduct me back to my regiment.
I was so intoxicated with the honour of which I had been
the recipient, that on reaching our lines I uttered a shout of
joy and put spurs to my horse. The intelligent animal
seemed to sympathise with my feelings, and fairly flew over
the ground. On a rising eminence a few yards before me
stood a grey-haired officer, surrounded by his staff. I don't
know what possessed me, but putting spurs to my horse, I
rode at him boldly, and with one bound, cleared him, horse
and all. A shout of indignation arose from the assembled
staff. I wheeled suddenly, with the intention of apologising,
but my mare misunderstood me, and again dashing forward,
once more vaulted over the head of the officer, this time
unfortunately uncovering him by a vicious kick of her hoof.
" Seize him ! " roared the entire army. I was seized. As
the soldiers led me away, I asked the name of the grey-
haired officer. " That — why that's the DUKE OP WELLING
TON!"
I fainted,
1 84 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
For six months I had brain fever. During my illness
the grapeshot were extracted from my body which I had
unconsciously received during the battle. When I opened
my eyes I met the sweet glance of a Sister of Mercy.
" Blanche ! " I stammered feebly.
" The same," she replied.
"You here?"
" Yes, dear ; but hush ! It's a long story. You, see,
dear Terence, your grandfather married my great-aim t'&
sister, and your father again married my grandmother's niece,
who dying without a will, was, according to the French
law "
" But I do not comprehend," I said.
"Of course not," said Blanche, with her old sweet smile;
" you've had brain fever ; so go to sleep."
I understood, however, that Blanche loved me ; and I am
now dear, dear reader, Sir Terence Sackville, K.C.B., and
Lady Blanche is Lady Sackville.
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
BY SIR ED-D L-TT-N B-LW-R.
BOOK I.
THE PROMPTINGS OF THE IDEAL.
T T was noon. Sir Edward had stepped from his brougham
and was proceeding on foot down the Strand. He was
dressed with his usual faultless taste, but in alighting from
his vehicle his foot had slipped, and a small round disc of
conglomerated soil, which instantly appeared on his high
arched instep, marred the harmonious glitter of his boots.
Sir Edward was fastidious. Casting his eyes around, at a
little distance he perceived the stand of a youthful boot
black. Thither he sauntered, and carelessly placing his foot
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 185
on the low stool, he waited the application of the polisher's
arfc. "'Tis true," said Sir Edward to himself, yet half
aloud, " the contact of the Foul and the Disgusting mars the
general effect of the Shiny and the Beautiful — and yet, why
am I here ? I repeat it, calmly and deliberately — why am
I here ? Ha ! Boy ! "
The Boy looked up — his dark Italian eyes glanced intel
ligently at the Philosopher, and, as with one hand he tossed
back his glossy curls from his marble brow, and with the
other he spread the equally glossy Day and Martin over the
Baronet's boot, he answered in deep rich tones : " The Ideal
is subjective to the Real. The exercise of apperception
gives a distinctiveness to idiocracy, which is, however, sub
ject to the limits of ME. You are an admirer of the
Beautiful, sir. You wish your boots blacked. The Beau-
ful is attainable by means of the Coin."
"Ah," said Sir Edward thoughtfully, gazing upon the
almost supernal beauty of the Child before him; "you speak
well. You have read Kant"
The Boy blushed deeply. He drew a copy of Kant from
his bosom, but in his confusion several other volumes dropped
from his bosom on the ground. The Baronet picked them up.
" Ah ! " said the Philosopher, " what's this 1 Cicero's De
Senectute, and at your age, too ? Martial's Epigrams, Caesar's
Commentaries. What ! a classical scholar 1 "
" E pluribus TJnum. Nux vomica. Nil desperandum.
Nihil fit ! " said the Boy, enthusiastically. The Philosopher
gazed at the Child. A strange presence seemed to trans
fuse and possess him. Over the brow of the Boy glittered
the pale nimbus of the Student.
" Ah, and Schiller's Robbers, too 1 " queried the Philoso
pher.
" Das ist ausgespielt," said the Boy modestly.
" Then you have read my translation of Schiller's Ballads?"
continued the Baronet, with some show of interest.
j 86 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
" I have, and infinitely prefer them to the original," said
the Boy with intellectual warmth. " You hare shown how
in Actual life we strive for a Goal we cannot reach ; how in
the Ideal the Goal is attainable, and there effort is victory.
You have given us the Antithesis which is a key to the
Remainder, and constantly balances before us the conditions
of the Actual and the privileges of the Ideal."
" My very words," said the Baronet ; " wonderful, won
derful !" and he gazed fondly at the Italian boy, who again
resumed his menial employment. Alas ! the wings of the
Ideal were folded. The Student had been absorbed in the
Boy.
But Sir Edward's boots were blacked, and he turned to
depart. Placing his hand upon the clustering tendrils that
surrounded the classic nob of the infant Italian, he said
softly, like a strain of distant music :
" Boy, you have done well. Love the Good. Protect the
Innocent. Provide for The Indigent. Respect the Philo
sopher." ..." Stay ! Can you tell me what is The True*
The Beautiful, The Innocent, The Virtuous ?"
" They are things that commence with a capital letter,"
said the Boy, promptly.
" Enough ! Respect everything that commences with a
capital letter $ Respect ME !" and dropping a halfpenny in
the hand of the Boy, he departed.
The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A frightful and
instantaneous change overspread his features. His noble
brow was corrugated with baser lines of calculation. His
black eye, serpent-like, glittered with suppressed passion.
Dropping upon his hands and feet, he crawled to the curb
stone and hissed after the retreating form of the Baronet, the
single word ;
"Bilk!"
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 187
BOOK II.
IN THE WORLD.
"ELEVEN years ago, said Sir Edward to himself, as his
brougham slowly rolled him toward the Committee Room ;
"just eleven years ago my natural son disappeared mys
teriously. I have no doubt in the world but that this little
bootblack is he. His mother died in Italy. He resembles
his mother very much. Perhaps I ought to provide for him.
Shall I disclose myself 1 No ! no ! Better he should taste
the sweets of labour. Penury ennobles the mind and kindles
the Love of the Beautiful. I will act to him, not like a
Father, not like a Guardian, not like a Friend — but like a
Philosopher !"
With these words, Sir Edward entered the Committee
Room. His Secretary approached him. "Sir Edward, there
are fears of a division in the House, and the Prime Minister
has sent for you."
" I will be there," said Sir Edward, as he placed his hand
on his chest and uttered a hollow cough !
No one who heard the Baronet that night, in his sarcastic
and withering speech on the Drainage and Sewerage Bill,
would have recognised the lover of the Ideal and the Philo
sopher of the Beautiful. No one who listened to his eloquence
would have dreamed of the Spartan resolution this iron man
had taken in regard to the Lost Boy — his own beloved
Lionel! None !
"A fine speech from Sir Edward to-night," said Lord
Billingsgate, as, arm-in-arm with the Premier, he entered his
carriage.
" Yes ! but how dreadfully he coughs !"
" Exactly. Dr. Bolus says his lungs are entirely gone ; he
breathes solely by an effort of will, and altogether independent
of pulmonary assistance."
" How strange !" — and the carriage rolled away.
1 88 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
BOOK III.
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD
" ADON AT, appear ! appear I"
And as the Seer spoke, the awful Presence glided out of
Nothingness, and sat, sphinxlike, at the feet of the Alchemist.
" I am come !" said the Thing.
"You should say <I have come' — it's better grammar,"
said the Boy-Neophyte, thoughtfully accenting the substituted
expression.
" Hush, rash Boy," said the Seer sternly. " Would you
oppose your feeble knowledge to the infinite intelligence of
the Unmistakable ? A word, and you are lost for ever."
The Boy breathed a silent prayer, and handing a sealed
package to the Seer, begged him to hand it to his father in
case of his premature decease.
"You have sent for me," hissed the Presence. " Behold
me, Apokatharticon — the Unpronounceable. In me all
things exist which are not already co-existent. I am the
Unattainable, the Intangible, the Cause, and the Effect. In
me observe the Brahma of Mr. Emerson ; not only Brahma
himself, but also the sacred musical composition rehearsed by
the faithful Hindoo. I am the real Gyges. None others are
genuine."
And the veiled Son of the Starbearn laid himself loosely
about the room, and permeated Space generally.
" Unfathomable Mystery," said the Eosicrucian ki a low,
sweet voice. " Brave Child with the Vitreous Optic ! Thou
who pervadest all things and rubbest against us without
abrasion of the cuticle. I command thee, speak !"
And the misty, intangible, indefinite Presence spoke.
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 189
BOOK IV.
MYSELF.
AFTER the events related in the last chapter, the reader will
perceive that nothing was easier than to reconcile Sir Edward
to his son Lionel, nor to resuscitate the beautiful Italian girl,
who, it appears, was not dead, and to cause Sir Edward to
marry his first and boyish love whom he had deserted. They
were married in St. George's, Hanover Square. As the bridal
party stood before the altar, Sir Edward, with a sweet, sad
imile, said, in quite his old manner :
" The Sublime and Beautiful are the Real ; the only Ideal
is the Ridiculous and Homely. Let us always remember
this. Let us through life endeavour to personify the virtues,
and always begin 'em with a capital letter. Let us, whenever
we can find an opportunity, deliver our sentiments in the
form of roundhand copies. Respect the Aged. Eschew
Vulgarity. Admire Ourselves. Regard the Novelist,"
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN.
BY AL-X-D-R D-M-S.
CHAPTER I.
SHOWING THE QUALITY OF THE CUSTOMERS OF THE INNKEEPER
OF PROVINS.
HP "WENT Y years after, the gigantic innkeeper of Proving
stood looking at a cloud of dust on the highway.
This cloud of dust betokened the approach of a traveller.
Travellers had been rare that season on the highway between
Paris and Proving.
The heart of the innkeeper rejoiced. Turning to Dame
Perigord, his wife, he said, stroking his white apron :
"St. Denis ! make haste and spread the cloth. Add a
190 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN.
bottle of Charlevoix to the table. This traveller, who ridea
so fast, by his pace must be a Monseigneur."
Truly the traveller, clad in the uniform of a musketeer,
as he drew up to the door of the hostelry, did not seem to
have spared his horse. Throwing his reins to the landlord,
he leaped lightly to the ground. He was a young man of
four and twenty, and spoke with a slight Gascon accent.
" I am hungry. Morbleu ! I wish to dine ! "
The gigantic innkeeper bowed and led the way to a neat
apartment, where a table stood covered with tempting viands.
The musketeer at once set to work. Fowls, fish, and pates
disappeared before him. Perigord sighed as he witnessed
the devastation. Only once the stranger paused.
"Wine!"
Perigord brought wine. The stranger drank a dozen
bottles. Finally he rose to depart. Turning to the ex
pectant landlord, he said :
" Charge it."
" To whom, your highness ? " said Perigord, anxiously.
« To his Eminence ! "
" Mazarin ! " ejaculated the innkeeper.
" The same. Bring me my horse," and the musketeer,
remounting his favourite animal, rode away.
The innkeeper slowly turned back into the inn. Scarcely
had he reached the courtyard, before the clatter of hoofs
again called him to the doorway. A musketeer of a light
and graceful figure rode up.
" Parlleu, my dear Perigord, I am famishing. What have
you got for dinner 1 "
"Venison, capons, larks and pigeons, your excellency,"
replied the obsequious landlord, bowing to the ground.
" Enough ! " The young musketeer dismounted and
entered the inn. Seating himself at the table replenished
by the careful Perigord, he speedily swept it as clean as the
first comer.
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 191
" Some wine, my brave Perigord," said the graceful young
musketeer, as soon as he could find utterance.
Perigord brought three dozen of Charlevoix. The young
man emptied them almost at a draught.
" By-by," Perigord," he said lightly, waving his hand, as,
preceding the astonished landlord, he slowly withdrew.
" But, your highness — the bill," said the astounded Peri
gord.
" Ah, the bill. Charge it ! "
" To whom 1 "
" The Queen ! "
•< What, Madam?"
" The same. Adieu, my good Perigord," and the graceful
stranger rode away. An interval of quiet succeeded, in
which the inkeeper gazed woefully at his wife. Suddenly he
was startled by a clatter of hoofs, and an aristocratic figure
stood in the doorway.
"Ah," said the courtier good-naturedly. "What, do
my eyes deceive me ? No, it is the festive and luxurious
Perigord. Perigord, listen. I famish. I languish I would
dine."
The innkeeper again covered the table with viands.
Again it was swept clean as the fields of Egypt before the
miraculous swarm of locusts. The stranger looked up.
" Bring me another fowl, my Perigord."
•* Imposible, your excellency, the larder is stripped clean."
" Another flitch of bacon, then."
" Impossible, your highness — there is no more."
"Well, then, wine!"
The landlord brought one hundred and forty-four bottles.
The courtier drank them all.
" One may drink if one cannot eat," said the aristocratic
stranger, good-humouredly.
The innkeeper shuddered.
The guest rose to depart. The innkeeper came slowly for-
192 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN.
ward with his bill, to which he had covertly added the losses
which he had suffered from the previous strangers.
"Ah ! the bill— charge it."
" Charge it ! to whom 1 "
" To the King," said the guest.
« What ! his Majesty ? "
" Certainly. Farewell, Perigord."
The innkeeper groaned. Then he went out and took dowu
his sign. Then remarked to his wife :
" I am a plain man, and don't understand politics. It
seems, however, that the country is in a troubled state. Be
tween his Eminence the Cardinal, his Majesty the King, and
her Majesty the Queen, I am a ruined man."
" Stay," said Dame Perigord, " I have an idea."
" And that is "
" Become yourself a musketeer."
CHAPTER II.
THE COMBAT.
ON leaving Provins the first musketeer proceeded to
Nangis, where he was reinforced bf thirty- three followers.
The second musketeer, arriving at Nangis at the same
moment, placed himself at the head of thirty-three more.
The third guest of the Landlord of Provins arrived at
JSTangis in time to assemble together thirty-three other
mustketeers.
The first stranger led the troops of his Eminence.
The second led the troops of the Queen.
The third led the troops of the King.
The fight commenced. It raged terribly for seven hours.
The first musketeer killed thirty of the Queen's troops. The
second musketeer killed thirty of the King's troops. The
third musketeer killed thirty of his Eminence's troops.
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 193
By this time it will be perceived the number of muske
teers had been narrowed down to four on each side.
Naturally the three principal warriors approached each
other.
They simultaneously uttered a cry :
"Aramis!"
" Athos ! "
" D'Artagnan ! "
They fell into each other's arms.
" And it seems that we are fighting against each other,
my children," said the Count de la Fere, mournfully.
" How singular ! " exclaimed Aramis and D'Artagnan.
" Let us stop this fratricidal warfare," said Athos.
" We will ! " they exclaimed together.
" But how to disband our followers ? " queried D'Artagnan.
Aramis winked. They understood each other. " Let us
cut 'em down ! "
They cut 'em down. Aramis killed three. D'Artagnan
three. Athos three.
The friends again embraced. " How like old times ! "
said Aramis. " How touching ! " exclaimed the serious and
philosophic Count de la Fere.
The galloping of hoofs caused them to withdraw from
each other's embraces. A gigantic figure rapidly ap
proached.
" The innkeeper of Provins ! " they cried, drawing their
swords.
" Perigord, down with him ! " shouted D'Artagnau.
" Stay," said Athos.
The gigantic figure was beside them. He uttered a cry.
" Athos, Aramis, D'Artagnan ! "
" Porthos ! " exclaimed the astonished trio.
" The same." They all fell in each other's arms.
The Count de la Fere slowly raised his hand to Heaven.
" Bless you ! Bless us, my children ! However different
194 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN.
our opinions may be in regard to politics, we have but ono
opinion in regard to our own merits. Where can you fisd a
better man than Aramis ? "
" Than Porthos ? " said Aramis.
" Than D'Artagnan ? " said Porthos.
" Than Athos ? " said D'Artagnan.
CHAPTER III.
SHOWING HOW THE KING OF FRANCE WENT UP A LADDER.
THE King descended into the garden. Proceeding cautiously
along the terraced walk, he came to the wall immediately
below the windows of Madame. To the left were two win
dows, concealed by vines. They opened into the apartments
of La Valliere.
The King sighed.
" It is about nineteen feet to that window," said the King.
" If I had a ladder about nineteen feet long, it would reach
to that window. This is logic."
Suddenly the King stumbled over something. " St.
Denis !" he exclaimed, looking down. It was a ladder, just
nineteen feet long.
The King placed it against the wall. In so doing, he
fixed the lower end upon the abdomen of a man who lay con
cealed by the wall. The man did not utter a cry or wince.
The King suspected nothing. He ascended the ladder.
The ladder was too short. Louis the Grand was not a tall
man. He was still two feet below the window.
" Dear me ! " said the King.
Suddenly the ladder was lifted two feet from below. This
enabled the King to leap in the window. At the further
end of the apartment stood a young girl, with red hair and a
lame leg. She was trembling with emotion.
"Louise!"
"The King I*
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 19$
" Ah, my God, mademoiselle.5'
"Ah, my God, sire."
But a low knock at the door interrupted the lovers. The
King uttered a cry of rage ; Louise one of despair.
The door opened and D'Artagnan entered.
" Good evening, sire," said the musketeer.
The King touched a bell. Porthos appeared in the door
way.
" Good evening, sire."
" Arrest M. D'Artagnan."
Porthos looked at D'Artagnan, and did not move.
The King almost turned purple with rage. He again
touched the bell. Athos entered*
" Count, arrest Porthos and D'Artagnan."
The Count de la Fere glanced at Porthos and D'Artagnan,
and smiled sweetly.
" Sacre I Where is Ararnis 1 " said the King, violently;
" Here, sire," and Aramis entered.
" Arrest Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan.'*
Aramis bowed, and folded his arms.
" Arrest yourself ! "
Aramis did not move.
The King shuddered and turned pale. " Am I not King
of France ? "
" Assuredly, sire, but We are also severally Porthos, Ara
mis, D'Artagnan, and Athos."
"Ah!" said the King.
*< Yes, sire."
" What does this mean ? "
" It means, your majesty," said Aramis, stepping forward,
" that your conduct as a married man is highly improper. I
am an Abbe, and I object to these improprieties. My friends
here, D'Artagnan, Athos, and Porthos, pure-minded young
men, are also terribly shocked. Observe, sire, how they
blush 1"
o 2
I9<5 MUCK-A-MUCK.
Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan blushed.
" Ah," said the King, thoughtfully. " You teach me a
lesson. You are devoted and noble young gentlemen, but
your only weakness is your excessive modesty. From this
moment I make you all Marshals and Dukes, with the excep
tion of Aramis."
" And me, sire f said Aramis.
" You shall be an Archbishop !"
The four friends looked up and then rushed into each
other's arms. The King embraced Louise de la Valliere, by
way of keeping them company. A pause ensued. At last
Athos spoke :
" Swear, my children, that next to yourselves, you will
respect — the King of France ; and remember that ' Forty
years after ' we will meet again."
MUCK-A-MUCK.
AFTER COOPER.
CHAPTER I.
T T was towards the close of a bright October day. The
last rays of the setting sun were reflected from one of those
sylvan lakes peculiar to the Sierras of California. On the
right the curling smoke of an Indian village rose between the
columns of the lofty pines, while to the left the log cottage
of Judge Tompkins, embowered in buckeyes, completed the
enchanting picture.
Although the exterior of the cottage was humble and un
pretentious, and in keeping with the wildness of the ;and-
scupe, its interior gave evidence of the cultivation and refine-
MUCK-A-MUCK. 197
ment of its inmates. An aquarium, containing gold-fishes,
stood on a marble centre table at one end of the apartment,
while a magnificent grand piano occupied the other. The
floor was covered with a yielding tapestry carpet, and the
walls were adorned with paintings from the pencils of Yan
Dyke, Rubens, Tintoretto, Michael Angelo, and the produc
tions of the more modern Turner, Kensett, Church and Bier-
stadt. Although Judge Tompkins had chosen the frontiers
of civilisation as his home, it was impossible for him to en
tirely forego the habits and tastes of his former life. He was
seated in a luxurious arm-chair, writing at a mahogany ecri-
toire, while his daughter, a lovely young girl of seventeen
summers, plied her crochet needle on an ottoman beside him.
A bright fire of pine logs flickered and flamed on the ample
hearth.
Genevra Octavia Tompkins was Judge Tompkins' s only
child. Her mother had long since died on the Plains. Reared
in affluence, no pains had been spared with the daughter's edu
cation. She was a graduate of one of the principal seminaries,
and spoke French with a perfect Benicia accent. Peerlessly
beautiful, she was dressed in a white moire antique robe
trimmed with tulle. That simple rosebud, with which most
heroines exclusively decorate their hair, was all she wore in
her raven locks.
The Judge was the first to break the silence
" Genevra, the logs which compose yonder fire seem to have
been incautiously chosen. The sibilation produced by the
sap, which exudes copiously therefrom, is not conducive to
composition."
" True, father, but I thought it would be preferable to the
constant crepitation which is apt to attend the combustion
of more seasoned ligneous fragments."
The Judge looked admiringly at the intellectual features
of the graceful girl, and half forgot the slight annoyances of
the green wood in the musical accents of his daughter. He
198 MUCK-A-MUCK.
was smoothing her hair tenderly, when the shadow of a tall
figure, which suddenly darkened the doorway, caused him to
look up.
CHAPTER II.
IT needed but a glance at the new comer to detect at once
the form and features of the haughty aborigine — the untaught
and untrammelled son of the forest. Over one shoulder a
blanket, negligently but gracefully thrown, disclosed a bare
and powerful breast, decorated with a quantity of three cent
postage stamps which he had despoiled from an Overland
Mail stage a few weeks previous. A cast-off beaver of Judge
Tompkins's, adorned by a simple feather, covered his erect
head, from beneath which his straight locks descended. His
right hand hung lightly by his side, while his left was engaged
in holding on a pair of pantaloons, which the lawless grace
and freedom of his lower limbs evidently could not brook.
" Why," said the Indian, in a low sweet tone, " why does
the Pale Face still follow the track of the Eed Man ? Why
does he pursue him, even as 0-kee-chow, the wild cat, chases
Ka-ka, the skunk ? Why are the feet of Sorrel-top, the
white chief, among the acorns of Muck-a-Muck, the mountain
forest ? Why," he repeated, quietly but firmly, abstracting
a silver spoon from the table, " why do you seek to drive
him from the wigwams of his fathers 1 His brothers are
already gone to the happy hunting grounds. Will the Pale
Face seek him there ?" And, averting his face from the
Judge, he hastily slipped a silver cake-basket beneath his
blanket, to conceal his emotion.
" Muck-a-Muck has spoken," said Genevra softly. <: Let
him now listen. Are the acorns of the mountain sweeter
than the esculent and nutritious bean of the Pale Face
miner 1 Does my brother prize the edible qualities of the
&nail above that of the crisp and oleaginous bacon ? Delicious
are the grasshoppers that sport on the hillside — are they
MUCK-A-MUCK. 199
better than the dried apples of the Pale Faces ? Pleasant is
the gurgle of the torrent, Kisli-Kish, but is it better than the
cluck-cluck of Bourbon brandy from the old stone bottle 1"
"Ugh!" said the Indian, "Ugh! good. The White
Rabbit is wise. Her words fall as the snow on Tootoonolo,
and the rocky heart of Muck-a-Muck is hidden. What says
my brother the Gray Gopher of Dutch Flat ?"
" She has spoken,, Muck-a-Muck," said the Judge, gazing
fondly on his daughter. " It is well. Our treaty is con
cluded. No, thank you — you need not dance the dance of
Snow Shoes, or the Moccasin Dance, the Dance of Green
Corn, or the Treaty Dance. I would be alone. A strange
sadness overpowers me."
" I go," said the Indian. " Tell your great chief in Wash
ington, the Sachem Andy, that the Eed Man is retiring
before the footsteps of the adventurous Pioneer. Inform
him, if you please, that westward the star of empire takes its
way, that the chiefs of the Pi-Ute nation are for Reconstruc
tion to a man, and that Klamath will poll a heavy Republican
vote in the fall."
And folding his blanket more tightly around him, Muck-a-
Muck withdrew.
CHAPTER III.
GENEVRA TOMPKINS stood at the door of the log cabin, look
ing after the retreating Overland Mail stage which conveyed
her father to Virginia City. " He may never return again,"
sighed the young girl as she glanced at the frightfully rolling
vehicle and wildly careering horses — " at least, with unbroken
bones. Should he meet with an accident ! I mind me now
a fearful legend, familiar to my childhood. Can it be that
the drivers on this line are privately instructed to despatch
all passengers maimed by accident, to prevent tedious litiga
tion ? No, no. But why this weight upon my heart 1"
She seated herself at the piano and lightly passed her hand
200 MUCK-A-MUCK-.
over the keys. Then, in a clear mezzo-soprano voice, she
sang the first verse of one of the popular Irish ballads :
" 0 Arrak, ma dheelisk, the distant dudheen *•
Lies soft in the moonlight, ma bouchal vourneen :
The springing gossoons on the heather are still,
And the caubeens and cotteens are heard on the hills."
Bub as the ravishing notes of her sweet voice died upon the
air, her hand sank listlessly to her side. Music could not
chase away the mysterious shadow from her heart. Again
she rose. Putting on a white crape bonnet, and carefully
drawing a pair of lemon-coloured gloves over her taper
fingers, she seized her parasol and plunged into the depths of
the pine forest.
CHAPTER IV.
GENEVRA had not proceeded many miles before a weariness
seized upon her fragile limbs, and she would fain seat herself
upon the trunk of a prostrate pine, which she previously
dusted with her handkerchief. The sun was just sinking
below the horizon, and the scene was one of gorgeous and
sylvan beauty. " How beautiful is Nature," murmured the
innocent girl, as, reclining gracefully against the root of the
tree, she gathered up her skirts and tied her handkerchief
around her throat. But a low growl interrupted her medi
tation. Starting to her feet, her eyes met a sight which
froze her blood with terror.
The only outlet to the forest was the narrow path, barely
wide enough for a single person, hemmed in by trees and
rocks, which she had just traversed. Down this path, in
Indian file, came a monstrous grizzly, closely followed by a
California lion, a wild cat, and a buffalo, the rear being
brought up by a wild Spanish bull. The mouths of the three
first animals were distended with frightful significance ; the
horns of the last were lowered as ominously. As Genevra
was preparing to faint, she heard a low voice behind her.
MUCK-A-MUCK. 201
** Eternally dog- gone* my skin ef this ain't the puttiest
chance yet."
At the same moment, a long, shining barrel dropped
lightly from behind her, and rested over her shoulder.
Genevra shuddered.
" Durn ye — don't move ! w
Genevra became motionless.
The crack of a rifle rang through the woods. Three
frightful yells were heard, and two sullen roars. Five
animals bounded into the air and five lifeless bodies lay upon
the plain. The well-aimed bullet had done its work. Enter
ing the open throat of the grizzly, it had traversed his body,
only to enter the throat of the California lion, and in like
manner the catamount, until it passed through into the
respective foreheads of the bull and the buffalo, and finally
fell flattened from the rocky hillside.
" Genevra turned quickly. " My preserver ! " she shrieked,
and fell into the arms of Natty Bumpo — the celebrated Pike
Hanger of Donner Lake.
CHAPTER V.
THE moon rose cheerfully above Donner Lake. On its placid
bosom a dug-out canoe glided rapidly, containing Natty
Bumpo and Genevra Tompkins.
Both were silent. The same thought possessed each, and
perhaps there was sweet companionship even in the unbroken
quiet. Genevra bit the handle of her parasol and blushed.
Natty Bumpo took a fresh chew of tobacco. At length
Genevra said, as if in half-spoken reverie :
" The soft shining of the moon and the peaceful ripple of
the waves seem to say to us various things of an instructive
and moral tendency."
* A euphemism common with the men of the West, and equal to
the English " Od rat it," or " G«l darn."
202 MUCK-A-MUCK.
" You may bet yer pile* on that, Miss," said her com
panion gravely. " It's all the preachin' and psalm- singin
I've heern since I was a boy."
"Noble being !" said Miss Tompkins to herself, glancing
at the stately Pike as he bent over his paddle to conceal his
emotion. " Reared in this wild seclusion, yet he has become
penetrated with visible consciousness of a Great First Cause."
Then, collecting herself, she said aloud : " Methinks 'twere
pleasant to glide ever thus down the stream of life, hand in
hand with the one being whom the soul claims as its affinity.
But what am I saying ?" — and the delicate-minded girl hid
her face in her hands.
A long silence ensued, which was at length broken by her
companion.
" Ef you mean you're on the marry," he said thoughtfully,
" I ain't in no wise partikler ! "
"My husband," faltered the blushing girl; and she fell
into his arms.
In ten minutes more the loving couple had landed at
Judge Tompkins's.
CHAPTER VI.
A YEAR has passed away. Natty Bumpo was returning from
Gold Hill, where he had been to purchase provisions. On
his way to Donner Lake, rumours of an Indian uprising met
his ears. " Dern their pesky skins, ef they dare to touch my
Jenny," he muttered between his clenched teeth.
It was dark when he reached the borders of the lake.
Around a glittering fire he dimly discerned dusky figures
dancing. They were in war paint. Conspicuous among
them was the renowned Muck-a-Muck. But why did the
fingers of Natty Bumpo tighten convulsively around his
rifle?
* I.e., pile of money.
MUCK-A-MUCK. 203
The chief held in his hand long tufts of raven hair. The
heart of the pioneer sickened as he recognised the clustering
curls of Genevra. In a moment his rifle was at his shoulder,
and witli a sharp " ping," Muck-a-Muck leaped into the air
a corpse. To dash out the brains of the remaining savages,
tear the tresses from the stiffening hand of Muck-a-Muck,
and dash rapidly forward to the cottage of Judge Tompkins,
was the work of a moment.
He burst open the door. Why did he stand transfixed with
open mouth and distended eyeballs 1 Was the sight too hor
rible to be borne ? On the contrary, before him, in her peerless
beauty, stood Genevra Tompkins, leaning on her father's arm.
" Ye'r not scalped, then !'' gasped her lover.
" No. I have no hesitation in saying that I am not ; but
why this abruptness ] " responded Genevra.
Bumpo could not speak, but frantically produced the silken
fcresses. Genevra turned her face aside.
" Why, that's her chignon," said the Judge.
Bumpo sank fainting on the floor.
The famous Pike chieftain never recovered from the deceit,
and refused to marry Genevra, who died, twenty years after
wards, of a broken heart. Judge Tompkins lost his fortune
in Wild Cat. The stage passes twice a week the deserted
cottage at Donner Lake- Thus was the death of Muck-a-
Muck avenged.
204 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY.
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY.
A NAVAL OFFICER.
BY CAPTAIN M-RRY-T, R.N.
CHAPTER I.
TV /T Y father was a north-country surgeon. He had retired,
••'"•*• a widower, from Her Maj esty's navy many years before,
and had a small practice in his native village. When I was
seven years old he employed me to carry medicines to his
patients. Being of a lively disposition, I sometimes amused
myself, during my daily rounds, by mixing the contents of the
different phials. Although I had no reason to doubt that the
general result of this practice was beneficial, yet, as the death
of a consumptive curate followed the addition of a strong
mercurial lotion to his expectorant, my father concluded to
withdraw me from the profession and send me to school.
Grubbins, the schoolmaster, was a tyrant, and it was not
long before my impetuous and self-willed nature rebelled
against his authority. I soon began to form plans of revenge.
In this T was assisted by Tom Snaffle — a school-fellow. One
day Tom suggested :
"Suppose we blow him up. I've got two pounds of
powder !"
" No, that's too noisy," I replied.
Tom was silent for a minute, and again spoke :
" You remember how you flattened out the curate, Pills !
Couldn't you give Grubbins something — something to make
him leathery sick — eh ?"
A flash of inspiration crossed my mind. I went to the
shop of the village apothecary. He knew me ; I had often
purchased vitrol, which I poured into Grubbins's inkstand to
corrode his pens and burn up his coat-tail, on which he was
in the habit of wiping them. T boldly asked for an ounce of
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 205
chloroform. The young apothecary winked and handed me
the bottle.
It was Grubbins's custom to throw his handkerchief over
his head, recline in his chair, and take a short nap during
recess. Watching my opportunity, as he dozed, I managed
to slip his handkerchief from his face and substitute my own,
moistened with chloroform. In a few minutes he was insen
sible. Tom and I then quickly shaved his head, beard, and
eyebrows, blackened his face with a mixture of vitriol and
burnt cork, and fled. There was a row and scandal the
next day. My father always excused me by asserting that
Grubbins had got drunk — but somehow found it convenient
to procure me an appointment in Her Majesty's navy at an
early day.
CHAPTER II.
AN official letter, with the Admiralty seal, informed me that
I was expected to join H.M. ship Belcher, Captain Boltrope,
at Portsmouth, without delay. In a few days I presented
myself to a tall, stern-visaged man, who was slowly pacing
the leeward side of the quarter-deck. As I touched my hat
he eyed me sternly :
" So ho ! Another young suckling. The service is going
to the devil. Nothing but babes in the cockpit and grannies in
the board. Boatswain's mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek ! "
Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched his hat.
" Introduce Mr. Breezy to the young gentlemen. Stop !
Where's Mr. Swizzle T'
" At the masthead, sir."
"Where's Mr. Lankey ?"
" At the masthead, sir."
"Mr. Briggs?"
"Masthead, too, sir."
"And the rest of the young gentlemen?" roared the
enraged officer.
206 MR. MIDSHIPMAN' BREEZY.
" All masthead, sir."
" Ah !•" said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled grimly,
" under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, you had better go to
the masthead too."
CHAPTER III.
AT the masthead I made the acquaintance of two youngsters
of about my own age, one of whom informed me that he had
been there 332 days out of the year.
" In rough weather, when the old cock is out of sorts, you
know, we never come down," added a young gentleman of
nine years, with a dirk nearly as long as himself, who had
been introduced to me as Mr. Briggs. " By the way, Pills,"
he continued, " how did you come to omit giving the captain
a naval salute ?"
" Why, I touched my hat," I said, innocently.
" Yes, but that isn't enough, you know. That will do
very well at other times. He expects the naval salute wheu
you first come on board — greeny ! "
I began to feel alarmed, and begged him to explain.
. « Why, you see, after touching your hat, you should have
touched him lightly with your forefinger in his waistcoat, so,
and asked, ' How's his nibs V — you see T'
" How's his nibs ?" I repeated.
" Exactly. He would have drawn back a little, and then
you should have repeated the salute, remarking, ' How's his
royal nibs ? ' asking cautiously after his wife and family, and
requesting to be introduced to the gunner's daughter."
"The gunner's daughter?"
" The same ; you know she takes care of us young gentle
men ; now don't forget, Pillsy !"
When we were called down to the deck I thought it a
good chance to profit by this instruction. I approached
Captain Boltrope and repeated the salute without conscien-
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 207
tiously omitting a single detail. He remained for a moment
livid and speechless. At length he gasped out :
" Boatswain's mate ! "
" If you please, sir," I asked, tremulously, " I should like
to be introduced to the gunner's daughter ! "
" 0, very good, sir ! " screamed Captain Boltrope, rubbing
his hands and absolutely capering about the deck with rage.
-' 0 d — n you ! Of course you shall ! O ho ! the gunner's
daughter ! O, h — 11 ! this is too much ! Boatswain's mate S"
Before I well knew where I was, I was seized, borne to an
eight-pounder, tied upon it and flogged !
CHAPTER IV.
As we sat together in the cockpit, picking the weevils out of
our biscuit, Briggs consoled me for my late mishap, adding
that the " naval salute," as a custom, seemed just then to be
honoured more in the breach than the observance. I joined
in the hilarity occasioned by the witticism, and in a few
moments we were all friends. Presently Swizzle turned to
me :
" We have been just planning how to confiscate a keg of
claret, which Kips, the purser, keeps under his bunk. The
old nipcheese lies there drunk half the day, and there's no
getting at it."
" Let's get beneath the state-room, and bore through the
deck, and so tap it," said Lankey.
The proposition was received with a shout of applause. A
long half-inch, auger and bit was procured from Chips, the
carpenter's mate, and Swizzle, after a careful examination of
the timbers beneath the wardroom, commenced operations.
The auger at last disappeared, when suddenly there was a
Blight disturbance on the deck above. Swizzle withdrew
the auger hurriedly ; from its point a few bright red drops
trickled.
2o8 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY.
" Huzza ! send her up again ! " cried Lankey.
The auger was again applied. This time a shriek was
heard from the purser's cabin. Instantly the light was
doused, and the party retreated hurriedly to the cockpit.
A sound of snoring was heard as the sentry stuck his head
into the door. " All right, sir," he replied in answer to the
voice of the officer of the deck.
The next morning we heard that Nips was in the surgeon's
hands, with a bad wound in the fleshy part of his leg, and
that the auger had not struck claret.
CHAPTER V,
"Now, Pills, you'll have a chance to smell powder," said
Briggs as he entered the cockpit and buckled around his
waist an enormous cutlass. " We have just sighted a French
ship."
We went on deck. Captain Boltrope grinned as we
touched our hats. He hated the purser. "Come, young
gentlemen, if you're boring for French claret, yonder 's a
good quality. Mind your con, sir," he added, turning to the
quartermaster, who was grinning.
The ship was already cleared for action. The men, in
their eagerness, had started the coffee from the tubs and
filled them with shot. Presently the Frenchman yawed, and
a shot from a long thirty-two came skipping over the water.
It killed the quartermaster and took off both of Lankey's
legs. "Tell the purser our account is squared," said the
dying boy, with a feeble smile.
'The fight raged fiercely for two hours. I remember kill
ing the French Admiral, as we boarded, but on looking
around for Briggs, after the smoke had cleared away, I was
intensely amused at witnessing the following novel sight :
Briggs had pinned the French captain against the mast
with his cutlass, and was now engaged, with all the hilarity
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 209
of youth, in pulling the captain's coat-tails between his legs,
in imitation of a dancing-jack. As the Frenchman lifted his
legs and arms, at each jerk of Briggs's, I could not help
participating in the general mirth.
"You young devil, what are you doing?" said a stifled
voice behind me. I looked up and beheld Captain Boltrope,
endeavouring to calm his stern features, but the twitching
around his mouth betrayed his intense enjoyment of the
scene. "Go to the masthead— up with you, sir!" he re
peated sternly to Briggs.
(i Very good, sir," said the boy, coolly preparing to mount
the shrouds. " Good-bye, Johnny Crapaud. Humph ! " he
added, in a tone intended for my ear, " a pretty way to treat
a hero — the service is going to the devil I"
I thought so too
CHAPTER VI.
WE were ordered to the West Indies. Although Captain
Boltrope's manner toward me was still severe and even
harsh, I understood that my name had been favourably
mentioned in the despatches.
Reader, were you ever at Jamaica ? If so, you remember
the iiegresses, the oranges, Port Royal Tom — the yellow
fever. After being two weeks at the station, I was taken
sick of the fever. In a month I was delirious. During my
paroxysms, I had a wild distempered dream of a stern face
bending anxiously over my pillow, a rough hand smoothing
my hair, and a kind voice saying :
" B 'ess his 'ittle heart ! Did he have the naughty fever !"
This face seemed again changed to the well-known sterD
features of Captain Boltrope.
When, I was convalescent, a packet edged in black was
put in my hand. It contained the news of my father's
death, and a sealed letter which he had requested to be
2io MR MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY.
given to me on his decease. I opened it tremblingly. It
read thus :
"My DEAR BOY, — I regret to inform you that in all
probability you are not my son. Your mother, I am
grieved to say. was a highly improper person. Who your
father may be I really cannot say, but perhaps the Honour
able Henry Boltrope, Captain II, N., may be able to inform
you. Circumstances over which I have no control have
deferred this important disclosure.
" YOUR STRICKEN PARENT."
And so Captain Boltrope was my father. Heavens !
Was it a dream ? I recalled his stern manner, his obser
vant eye, his ill-concealed uneasiness when in my presence.
I longed to embrace him. Staggering to my feet, I rushed
in my scanty apparel to the deck, where Captain Boltrope
was just then engaged in receiving the Governor's wife and
daughter. The ladies shrieked ; the youngest, a beautiful
girl, blushed deeply. Heeding them not, I sank at his feet,
and embracing them, cried :
« My father!"
" Chuck him overboard ! " roared Cnptain Boltrope.
"Stay," pleaded the soft voice of Clara Maitland, the
Governor's daughter.
" Shave his head ! he's a wretched lunatic ! " continued
Captain Boltrope, while his voice trembled with excite
ment.
"No, let me nurse and take care of him," said the lovely
girl, blushing as she spoke. " Mamma, can't we take him
home?"
The daughter's pleading was not without effect. In the
meantime I had fainted. When I recovered my senses I
found myself in Governor Maitland's mansion.
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZ Y. 211
CHAPTER VII.
THE reader will guess what followed. I fell deeply in love
with Clara Maitland, to whom I confided the secret of my
birth. The generous girl asserted that she had detected the
superiority of my manner at once. We plighted our troth,
and resolved to wait upon events.
Briggs called to see me a few clays afterward. He said
that the purser had insulted the whole cockpit, and all the
midshipmen had called him out. But he added thought
fully : "I don't see how we can arrange the duel. You see
there are six of us to fight him."
" Very easily," I replied. "Let your fellows all stand in
a row, and take his fire j that, you see, gives him six chances
to one, and he must be a bad shot if he can't hit one of you;
while, on the other hand, you see, he gets a volley from you
six, and one of you'll be certain to fetch him."
" Exactly ; " and away Briggs went, but soon returned to
say that the purser had declined — " like a d — d coward," he
added.
But the news of the sudden and serious illness of Captain
Boltrope put off the duel. I hastened to his bedside, but
too late — an hour previous he had given up the ghost.
I resolved to return to England. I made known the
secret of my birth, and exhibited my adopted father's letter
to Lady Maitland, who at once suggested my marriage with
her daughter, before I returned to claim the property. We
were married, and took our departure next day.
I made no delay in posting at once, in company with my
wife and my friend Briggs, to my native village. Judge of
my horror and surprise when my late adopted father came
out of his shop to welcome me.
" Then you are not dead ! " I gasped.
"No, my dear boy."
« And this letter P
g i
21 ? GUY HEA VYSTONE.
My father — as I must still call him — glanced on the paper,
and pronounced it a forgery. Briggs roared with laughter.
I turned to him and demanded an explanation.
" Why, don't you see, greeny, it's all a joke — a midship
man's joke ! "
"But "I asked.
u Don't be a fool. You've got a good wife — be satisfied."
I turned to Clara, and was satisfied. Although Mrs.
Maitland never forgave me, the jolly old Governor laughed
heartily over the joke, and so well used his influence that I
soon became, dear reader, Admiral Breezy, K.C.B.
GUY HEAVYSTONE;
OR, "ENTIRE."
31 j^luscular $o&cl.
BY THE AUTHOR OF " SWORD AND GUN."
CHAPTER I.
" Nerei repandirostrum incurvicervicum pecus.v
A DINGY, s washy, splashy afternoon in October ; a
school-yard filled with a mob of riotous boys. A lot
of us standing outside.
Suddenly came a dull, crashing sound from the school
room. At the ominous interruption I shuddered involun
tarily, and called to Smithsye :
"What's up, Smithums?"
" Guy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied.
At the same moment George de Coverly passed me,
holding his nose, from whence the bright Norman blood
streamed redly. To him the plebeian Smithsye laughingly :
"Gully! how's h's nibs ?"
GUY HE A VY STONE. 2 1 3
I pushed the door of the school-room open. There are
some spectacles which a man never forgets. The burning of
Troy probably seemed a large-sized conflagration to the pious
/Eneas, and made an impression on him which he earned
away with the feeble Anchises.
In the centre of the room, lightly brandishing the piston-
rod of a steam-engine, stood Guy Heavystone alone. I say
alone, for the pile of small boys on the floor in the corner
could hardly be called company.
I will try and sketch him for the reader. Guy Heavy-
stone was then only fifteen. His brosd, deep chest, his
sinewy and quivering flank, his straight pastern showed liim
to be a thorough-bred. Perhaps he was a trifle heavy in the
fetlock, but he held his head haughtily erect. His eyes were
glittering but pitiless. There was a sternness about the
lower part of his face — the old Heavystone look — a stern
ness heightened, perhaps, by the snalfle-bit which, in one of
his strange freaks, he wore in his mouth to curb his occa
sional ferocity. His dress was well adapted to his square -set
and Herculean frame. A striped knit undershirt, close-fitting
striped tights, and a few spangles set off his figure ; a neat
Glengarry cap adorned his head. On it was displayed the
Heavystone crest, a cock regardant on a dunghill or, and the
motto, " Devil a better ! "
I thought of Horatius on the bridge, of Hector before the
walls. I always make it a point to think of something
classical at such times.
He saw me, and his sternness partly relaxed. Something
like a smile struggled through his grim lineaments. It was
like looking on the Jungfrau after having seen Mont Blanc
— a trifle, only a trifle less sublime and awful. Resting his
hand lightly on the shoulder of the head-master, who
shuddered and collapsed under his touch, he strode toward
me.
His walk was peculiar. You could not call it a
214 GUY HE A VYSTONE.
It was like the "crest-tossing Belleroplion " — a kind of
prancing gait. Guy Heavystone pranced toward nie.
CHAPTER II.
" Lord Lovel he stood at the garden gate,
A-combing his milk-white steed.1'
IT was the winter of 186- when I next met Guy Heavystone.
He had left the University and had entered the 76th
" Heavies." " I have exchanged the gown for the sword,
you see," he said, grasping my hand, and fracturing the bones
of my little finger, as he shook it.
I gazed at him with unmixed admiration. He was
squarer, sterner, and in every way smarter and more
remarkable than ever. I began to feel toward this man as
Phalaster felt towards Phyrgino, as somebody must have felt
toward Archididascalus, as Boswell felt towards Johnson.
"Come into my den," he said, and lifting me gently by
the seat of my pantaloons, he carried me up-stairs and
deposited me; before I could apologise, on the sofa. I looked
around the room. It was a bachelor's apartment, character
istically furnished in the taste of the proprietor. A few
claymores and battle-axes were ranged against the wall, and
a culverin, captured by Sir Ralph Heavystone, occupied the
corner, the other end of the room being taken up by a light
battery. Foils, boxing-gloves, saddles, and fishing poles lay
around carelessly. A small pile of billets-doux lay upon a silver
salver. The man was not an anchorite, nor yet a Sir Galahad.
I never could tell what Guy thought of women. " Poor
little beasts," he would often say when the conversation
turned on any of his fresh conquests. Then, passing his
hand over his marble brow, the old look of stern fixedness'
of purpose and unflinching severity would straighten the
\ines of his mouth, and he would mutter, half to himself,
G UY HE A VYSTONE. 2 i 5
"Come with me to Heavystone Grange. The Exmoor
Hounds throw off to-morrow. I'll give you a mount," he
said, as he amused himself by rolling up a silver candlestick
between his fingers. " You shall have Cleopatra. But stay,"
he added, thoughtfully ; " now I remember, I ordered
Cleopatra to be shot this morning."
" And why ] " I queried.
" She threw her rider yesterday and fell on him "
"And killed him]"
" No. That's the reason why I have ordered her to be
shot. I keep no animals that are not dangerous — I
should add deadly ! " He hissed the last sentence between
his teeth, and a gloomy frown descended over his calm
brow.
I affected to turn over the tradesmen's bills that lay on
the table ; for, like all of the Heavystone race, Guy seldom
paid cash, and said :
" You remind me of the time when Leonidas "
"0, bother Leonidas and your classical allusions.
Come!"
We descended to dinner.
CHAPTER III.
* He carries weight, he rides a race,
'Tis for a thousand pound."
" THERE is Flora Billingsgate, the greatest coquette and
hardest rider in the country," said my companion, Ralph
Mortmain, as we stood upon Dingleby Common before the
meet.
I looked up and beheld Guy Heavystone bending
haughtily over the saddle, as he addressed a beautiful
brunette. She was indeed a splendidly-groomed and high-
spirited woman. We were near enough to overhear the
following conversation, which any high-toned reader will
2i6 GUY
recognise as the common and natural expression of the
higher classes.
" When Diana takes the field the chase is not wholly
confined to objects ferce naturce," said Guy, darting a
significant glance at his companion. Flora did not shrink
either from the glance or the meaning implied in the
sarcasm.
"If I were looking for an Eiidymion, now," she said
archly, as she playfully cantered over a few hounds and
leaped a five-barred gate.
Guy whispered a few words, inaudible to the rest of the
party, and curvetting slightly, cleverly cleared two of the
huntsmen in a flying leap, galloped up the front steps of the
mansion, and dashing at full speed through the hall, leaped
through the drawing-room window and rejoined me, languidly,
on the lawn.
" Be careful of Flora Billingsgate," he said to me, in low
stern tones, while his pitiless eye shot a baleful fire.
" Gardez vous ! "
" Gnothi seauton" I replied calmly, not wishing to appear
to be behind him in perception or verbal felicity.
Guy started off in high spirits. He was well carried. He
and the first whip, a ten-stone man, were head and head at
the last fence, while the hounds were rolling over their fox,
a hundred yards farther in the open.
But an unexpected circumstance occurred. Coming back,
his chestnut mare refused a ten- foot wall. She reared and
fell backward. Again he led her up to it lightly ; again she
refused, falling heavily from the coping. Guy started to his
feet. The old pitiless fire shone in his eyes ; the old stern
look settled around his mouth. Seizing the mare by the tail
and mane he threw her over the wall. She landed twenty
feet on the other side, erect and trembling. Lightly leaping
the same obstacle himself, he remounted her. She did not
refuse the wall the next time.
HE A VYSTONE. 2 1 7
CHAPTER IV.
" He holds him by his glittering eye."
GUY was in the north of Ireland, cock-shooting. So Ealph
Mortmain told me, and also that the match between Mary
Brandagee and Guy had been broken off by Flora Billings
gate. " I don't like those Billingsgates," said Ralph,
" they're a bad stock. Her father, Smithfield de Billings
gate, had an unpleasant way of turning up the knave from
the bottom of the pack. But nous verrons ; let us go and
see Guy."
The next morning we started for Fin-ma-CouTa Crossing.
When I reached the shooting-box, where Guy was enter
taining a select company of friends, Flora Billingsgate
greeted me with a saucy smile.
Guy was even squarer and sterner than ever. His gusts
of passion were more frequent, and it was with difficulty that
he could keep an abV-bodied servant in his family. His
present retainers were more or less maimed from exposure to
the fury of their master. There was a strange cynicism, a
cutting sarcasm in his address piercing through his polished
manner. I thought of Timon, etc., etc.
One evening we were sitting over our Chambertin, after a
hard day's work, and Guy was listlessly turning over some
letters, when suddenly he uttered a cry. Did you ever hear
the trumpeting of a wounded elephant] It was like that.
I looked at him with consternation. He was glancing at
a letter which he held at arm'w xength, and snorting, as it
were, at it as he gazed. The lower part of his face was
stern, but not as rigid as usual. He was slowly grinding
between his teeth the fragments of the glass he had just
been drinking from. Suddenly he seized one of his servants,
and, forcing the wretch upon his knees, exclaimed with the
roar of a tiger ;
2i& GUY HEA VYSTONE.
" Dog ! why was this kept from me f '
" Why, please, sir, Miss Flora said as how it was a recon
ciliation, from Miss Brandagee, and it was to be kept from
you where you would not be likely to see it — and — and "
" Speak, dog ! and you "
" I put it among your bills, sir !"
With a groan like distant thunder, Guy fell swooning to
the floor.
He soon recovered, for the next moment a servant came
rushing into the room with the information that a number of
the ingenuous peasantry of the neighbourhood were about to
indulge that evening in the national pastime of burning a
farmhouse and shooting a landlord. Guy smiled a fearful
smile, without, however, altering his stern and pitiless
expression.
" Let them come," he said calmly ; " I feel like entertain
ing company."
We barricaded the doors and windows, and then chose our
arms from the armoury. Guy's choice was a singular one :
it was a landing net with a long handle, and a sharp cavalry
sabre.
We were not destined to remain long in ignorance of its
use. A howl was heard from without, and a party of fifty
or sixty armed men precipitated themselves against the
door.
Suddenly the window opened. With the rapidity of light
ning, Guy Heavystone cast the net over the head of the ring
leader, ejaculated " II abet /" and with a back stroke of his
cavalry sabre severed the member from its trunk, and draw
ing the net back again, cast the gory head upon the floor,
saying quietly :
"One."
Again the net was cast, the steel flashed, the net was
withdrawn, and the ominous " Two ! " accompanied the
head as it rolled on the floor.
THE HAUNTED MAN. 219
" Do you remember what Pliny says of tlie gladiator V
said Guy, calmly wiping liis sabre. " How graphic is that
passage commencing : ' Inter nos, etc.* " The sport con
tinued until the heads of twenty desperadoes had been
gathered in. The rest seemed inclined to disperse. Guy
incautiously showed himself at the door j a ringing shot was
heard, and he staggered back pierced through the heart.
Grasping the door-post in the last unconscious throes of his
mighty frame, the whcle side of the house yielded to that
earthquake tremor, and we had barely time to escape before
the whole building fell in ruins. I thought of Samson, the
Giant Judge, etc., etc. ; but all was over.
Guy Heavy stone had died as he had lived — hard.
THE HAUNTED MAN.
a CC&rfetmas Storn.
BY CH-R-S D-C-K-N-S.
PART I.
'THE FIRST PHANTOM.
tell me that it wasn't a knocker. I had seen it
often enough, and I ought to know. So ought the
three o'clock beer, in dirty highlows, swinging himself over
the railing, or executing a demoniacal jig upon the doorstep;
BO ought the butcher, although butchers as a general thing
are scornful of such trifles ; so ought the postman, to whom
knockers of the most extravagant description were merely
human weaknesses, that were to be pitied and used. And
so ought, for the matter of that, etc., etc., etc.
But then it was such a knocker. A wild, extravagant, and
utterly incomprehensible knocker. A knocker so mysterious
and suspicious that Policeman X 37, first coming upon it, felt
22* THE HA UNTED MAN.
inclined to take it instantly in custody, but compromised
with his professional instincts by sharply and sternly noting
it with an eye that admitted of no nonsense, but confidently
expected to detect its secret yet. An ugly knocker; a
knocker with a hard, human face, that was a type of the
harder human face within. A human face that held between
its teeth a brazen rod. So hereafter in the mysterious future
should be held, etc., etc.
But if the knocker had a fierce human aspect in the glare
of day, you should have seen it at night, when it peered out
of the gathering shadows and suggested an ambushed figure ;
when the light of the street lamps fell upon it, and wrought a
play of sinister expression in its hard outlines \ when it
seemed to wink meaningly at a shrouded figure who, as the
night fell darkly, crept up the steps and passed into the
mysterious house ; when the swinging door disclosed a black
passage into which the figure seemed to lose itself and become
a part of the mysterious gloom ; when the night grew
boisterous and the fierce wind made furious charges at the
knocker, as if to wrench it off and carry it away in triumph.
Such a night as this.
It was a wild and pitiless wind. A wind that had com
menced life as a gentle country zephyr, but wandering
through manufacturing towns had become demoralised, and
reaching the city had plunged into extravagant dissipation
and wild excesses. A roystering wind that indulged in
Bacchanalian shouts on the street corners, that knocked off
the hats from the heads of helpless passengers, and then
fulfilled its duties by speeding away, like all young prodigals
— to sea.
He sat alone in a gloomy library listening to the wind that
roared in the chimney. Around him novels and story-books
were strewn thickly ; in his lap he held one with its pages
freshly cut, and turned the leaves wearily until his eyes
rested upon a portrait in its frontispiece. And as the wind
THE HAUNTED MAN. 221
howled the more fiercely, and the darkness without fell
blacker, a strange and fateful likeness to that portrait
appeared above his chair and leaned upon his shoulder. The
Haunted Man gazed at the portrait and sighed. The figure
gazed at the portrait and sighed too.
" Here again]" said the Haunted Man.
" Here again," it repeated in a low voice.
"Another novel1?"
" Another novel."
" The old story 1"
" The old story.'*
" I see a child," said the Haunted Man, gazing from the
pages of the book into the fire — " a most unnatural child, a
model infant. It is prematurely old and philosophic It dies
in poverty to slow music. It dies surroundeed by luxury to
slow music. It dies with an accompaniment of golden water
and rattling carts to slow musie. Previous to its decease it
makes a will; it repeats the Lord's Prayer, it kisses th<j>
' boofer lady.' That child "
" Is mine," said the phantom.
" I see a good woman, undersized. I see several charming
women, but they are all undersized. They are more or less
imbecile and idiotic, but always fascinating and undersized.
They wear coquettish caps and aprons. I observe that
feminine virtue is invariably below the medium height, and
that it is always babyish and infantine. These women "
" Are mine."
" I see a haughty, proud, and wicked lady. She is tall and
queenly. I remark that all proud and wicked women are
tall and queenly. That woman "
" Is mine," said the phantom, wringing his hands.
" I see several things continually impending. I observe
that whenever an accident, a murder, or death is about
to happen, there is something in the furniture, in the
locality, in the atmosphere that foreshadows and suggests it
222 THE HAUNTED MAN.
years in advance. I cannot say that in real life I have
noticed it — the perception of this surprising fact belongs "
"To me!" said the phantom. The Haunted Man con
tinued, in a despairing tone :
"I see the influence of this in the magazines and daily
papers : I see weak imitators rise up and enfeeble the world
with senseless formula. I am getting tired of it. It won't
do, Charles ! it won't do ! " and the Haunted Man buried
his head in his hands and groaned. The figure looked down
upon him sternly : the portrait in the frontispiece frowned
as he gazed.
"Wretched man," said the phantom, "and how have
these things affected you ? "
"Once I laughed and cried, but then I was younger.
Now, I would forget them if I could."
"Have then your wish. And take this with you, man
whom I renounce. From this day henceforth you shall live
with those whom I displace. Without forgetting me, 'twill
be your lot to walk through life as if we had not met. But
first you shall survey these scenes that henceforth must be
yours. At one to-night, prepare to meet the phantom I
have raised. Farewell ! "
The sound of its voice seemed to fade away with the
dying wind, and the Haunted Man was alone. But the
firelight flickered gaily, and the light danced on the walls,
making grotesque figures of the furniture.
" Ha, ha ! " said the Haunted Man, rubbing his hands
gleefully ; " now for a whiskey punch and a cigar."
BOOK II.
THE SECOND PHANTOM.
ONE ! The stroke of the far-off bell had hardly died before
the front door closed with a reverberating clang. Steps
were heard along the passage ; the library door swung open
THE HAUNTED MAN. 223
of itself, and the Knocker — yes, the Knocker — slowly strode
into the room. The Haunted Man rubbed his eyes — no !
there could be no mistake about it — it was the Knocker's
face, mounted on a misty, almost imperceptible body. The
brazen rod was transferred from its mouth to its right hand,
where it was held like a ghostly truncheon.
" It's a cold evening," paid the Haunted Man.
" It is," said the Goblin, in a hard, metallic voice.
"It must be pretty cold out there," said the Haunted
Man, with vague politeness. "Do you ever — will you —
take some hot water and brandy 1 "
" No," said the Goblin.
" Perhaps you'd like it cold, by way of change?" continued
the Haunted Man, correcting himself, as he remembered
the peculiar temperature with which the Goblin was pro
bably familiar.
"Time flies," said the Goblin coldly. "We have no
leisure for idle talk. Come ! " He moved his ghostly
truncheon toward the window, and laid his hand upon the
other's arm. At his touch the body of the Haunted Man
seemed to become as thin and incorporeal as that of the
Goblin himself, and together they glided out of the window
into the black and blowy night.
In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the Haunted
Man seemed to leave him. At length they stopped suddenly.
" What do you see ? " asked the Goblin.
" I see a battlemented medieval castle. Gallant men in
mail ride over the drawbridge, and kiss their gauntlet ed
fingers to fair ladies, who wave their lily hands in return.
I see fight and fray and tournament. I hear roaring heralds
bawling the charms of delicate women, and shamelessly pro
claiming their lovers. Stay. I see a Jewess about to leap
from a battlement. I see knightly deeds, violence, rapine,
and a good deal of blood. I've seen pretty much the same
at Astley V
224 THE HAUNTED MAN.
" Look again."
" I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, bare-legged
men, priggish bookworms, more violence, physical excellence,
and blood. Always blood — and the superiority of physical
attainments."
"And how do you feel now ! " said the Goblin.
The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders.
"None the better for being carried back and asked to
sympathise with a barbarous age."
The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm ; they again sped
rapidly through the black night, and again halted.
" What do you see ? " said the Goblin.
" I see a barrack room, with a mess table, and a group of
intoxicated Celtic officers telling funny stories, and giving
challenges to duel. I see a young Irish gentleman capable
of performing prodigies of valour, I learn incidentally that
the acme of all heroism is the cornetcy of a dragoon regi
ment. I hear a good deal of French ! No, thank you,"
said the Haunted Man hurriedly, as he stayed the waving
hand of the Goblin, " I would rather not go to the Peninsula,
and don't care to have a private interview with Napoleon."
Again the Goblin flew away with the unfortunate man,
and from a strange roaring below them, he judged they were
above the ocean. A ship hove in sight, and the Goblin
stayed its flight. " Look," he said, squeezing his com
panion's arm.
The Haunted Man yawned. " .Don't you think, Charles,
you're rather running this thing into the ground] Of
course, it's very moral and instructive, and all that. But
ain't there a little too much pantomime about it ? Come
cow ! "
"Look ! " repeated the Goblin, pinching his arm malevo
lently. The Haunted Man groaned.
"Oh, of course, I see Her Majesty's ship Arethusa. Of
course I am familiar with her stern First Lieutenant, her
THE HAUNTED MAN. 2.^
eccentric Captain, her one fascinating and several mis
chievous midshipmen. Of course, I know it's a splendid
thing to see all this, and not to be sea-sick. Oh, there the
young gentlemen are going to play a trick on the purser.
For God's sake, let us go," and the unhappy man absolutely
dragged the Goblin away with him.
When they next halted, it was at the edge of a broad and
boundless prairie, in the middle of an oak opening.
" I see," said the Haunted Man, without waiting for his
cue, but mechanically, and as if he were repeating a lesson
which the Goblin had taught him — "I see the Noble
Savage. He is very fine to look at ! But I observe under
his war paint, feathers and picturesque blanket — dirt, disease,
and an unsymmetrical contour. I observe beneath his in
flated rhetoric deceit and hypocrisy. Beneath his physical
hardihood, cruelty, malice and revenge. The Noble Savage
is a humbug. I remarked the same to Mr. Catlin."
" Come," said the phantom.
The Haunted Man sighed, and took out his watch,
" Couldn't we do the rest of this another time ! "
" My hour is almost spent, irreverent being, but there is
yet a chance for your reformation. Come ! "
Again they sped through the night, and again they halted.
The sound of delicious but melancholy music fell upon their
ears.
"I see," said the Haunted Man, with something of inte
rest in his manner, " I see an old moss-covered manse beside
a sluggish, flowing river. I see weird shapes : witches,
Puritans, clergymen, little children, judges, mesmerised
maidens, moving to the sound of melody that thrills me
with its sweetness and purity.
" But, although carried along its calm and evenly-flowing
current, the shapes are strange and frightful : an eating
lichen gnaws at the heart of each ; not only the clergymen,
but witch, maiden, judge, and Puritan, all wear Scarlet
Q
225 THE HAUNTED MAN.
Letters of some kind burned upon their hearts. I am fasci
nated and thrilled, but I feel a morbid sensitiveness creeping
over me. I — I beg your pardon." The Goblin was yawn
ing frightfully. " Well, perhaps we had better go."
" One more, and the last," said the Goblin. They were
moving home. Streaks of red were beginning to appear in
the eastern sky. Along the banks of the blackly flowing
river, by moorland and stagnant fens, by low houses, clus
tering close to the water's edge, like strange mollusks,
crawled upon the beach to dry ; by misty black barges, the
more misty and indistinct seen through its mysterious veil,
the river fog was slowly rising. So rolled away and rose
from the heart of the Haunted Man, etc., etc.
They stopped before a qiiaint mansion of red brick. The
Goblin waved his hand without speaking.
"I see," said the Haunted Man, "a gay drawing-room.
I see my old friends of the club, of the college, of society,
even as they lived and moved. 1 see the gallant and un
selfish men whom I have loved, and the snobs whom I have
hated. I see strangely mingling with them, and now and
then blending with their forms, our old friends Dick Steele,
Addison, and Congreve. I observe, though, that these gen
tlemen have a habit of getting too much in the way. The
royal standard of Queen Anne, not in itself a beautiful
ornament, is rather too prominent in the picture. The long
galleries of black oak, the formal furniture, the old portraits,
are picturesque, but depressing. The house is damp. I
enjoy myself better here on the lawn, where they are getting
up a Vanity Fair. See, the bell rings, the curtain is rising,
the puppets are brought out for a new play. Let me
eee."
The Haunted Man was pressing forward in his eagerness,
but the hand of the Goblin stayed him, and pointing to his
feet, he saw between him and the rising curtain, a new-made
grave. And bending above the grave in passionate griefj
THE hA VNTED MAN. <MJ
the Haunted Man belield the phantom, of the previous
night.
******#**
The Haunted Man started, and — woke. The bright sun
shine streamed into the room. The air was sparkling with
frost. He ran joyously to the window and opened it. A
small boy saluted him with " Merry Christmas." The
Haunted Man instantly gave him a Bank of England note.
"How much like Tiny Tim, Tom and Bobby that boy
looked — bless my soul, what a genius this Dickens has ! "
A knock at the door, and Boots entered.
"Consider your salary doubled instantly. Have you
read David Gopperjidd ? "
" Yezzur."
" Your salary is quadrupled. What do you think of the
Old Curiosity Shop ? "
The man instantly burst into a torrent of tears, and tLaSl
into a roar of laughter.
"Enough ! Here are five thousand pounds. Open a
porter-house, and call it, ' Our Mutual Friend.' Huzza ! I
feel so happy ! " And the Haunted Man danced about the
room.
And so, bathed in the light of that blessed sun, and yet
glowing with the warmth of a good action, the Haunted
Man, haunted no longer, save by those shapes which make
the dreams of children beautiful, re-seated himself in his
chair, and finished Our Mutual Friend.
228 LA FEMMfi.
«'LA FEMME."
AFTER THE FRENCH OF M. MICHELET*
WOMEN AS AN INSTITUTION.
" T F it were not for women, few of us would at present be
in existence." This is the remark of a cautious and
discreet writer. He was also sagacious and intelligent.
Woman ! Look upon her and admire her. Gaze upon
her and love her. If she wishes to embrace you, permit her.
Remember she is weak and you are strong.
But don't treat her unkindly. Don't make love to another
woman before her face, even if she be your wife. Don't do
it. Always be polite, even should she fancy somebody better
than you.
If your mother, my dear Amadis, had not fancied your
father better than somebody, you might have been that
somebody's son. Consider this. Always be a philosopher,
even about women.
Few men understand women. Frenchmen perhaps better
than any one else. I am a Frenchman.
II.
THE INFANT.
SHE is a child — a little thing — an infant.
She has a mother and father. Let us suppose, for ex
ample, they are married. Let us be moral if we cannot be
happy and free — they are married — perhaps — they love one
another — who knows ?
But she is not lovely at first. It is cruel, perhaps — but
She is red — and positively ugly. She feels this keenly, and
LA FEMME.
229
cries. She weeps. Ah, my God! how she weeps! Her
cries and lamentations now are really distressing.
Tears stream from her in floods. She feels deeply and
copiously like M. Alphonse de Lamartine in his Confessions.
If you are her mother, Madame, you will fancy worms ;
you will examine her linen for pins and what not. Ah,
hypocrite ! you, even you, misunderstand her.
Yet she has charming natural impulses. See how she
tosses her dimpled arms. She looks longingly at her mother.
She has a language of her own. She says " goo goo," and
"gaga."
She demands something — this infant !
She is faint, poor thing. She famishes. She wishes to be
restored. .Restore her, Mother !
It is the first duty of a mother to restore her child/
III.
THE DOLL,
SHE is hardly able to walk — she already totters under
the weight of a doll.
It is a charming and elegant affair. It has pink cheeks
and purple-black hair. She prefers brunettes, for she has
already, with the quick knowledge of a French infant, per
ceived she is a blonde and that her doll cannot rival her.
Mon Dieu, how touching ! Happy child 1 She spends hours
in preparing its toilette. She begins to show her taste in
the exquisite details of its dress. She loves it madly, de
votedly. She will prefer it to bonbons. She already antici
pates the wealth of love she will hereafter pour out on her
lover, her mother, her father, and finally perhaps her
husband.
This is the time the anxious parent will guide these
first outpourings. *ttie will read her extracts from Miche-
230 LA FEMME.
let's IS Amour, Rousseau's Heloise, and the Revue des deux
Mondes.
IV.
THE MUD PIE.
SHE was in tears to-day.
She had stolen away from her lonne, and was with some
rustic infants. They had noses in the air, and large, coarse
hands and feet.
They had seated themselves around a pool in the road,
and were fashioning fantastic shapes in the clayey soil with
their hands. Her throat swelled and her eyes sparkled with
delight as, for the first time, her soft palms touched the
plastic mud. She made a graceful and lovely pie. She
stuffed it with stones for almonds and plums. She forgot
everything. It was being baked in the solar rays, when
inadame caine and took her away.
She weeps. It is night, and she is weeping still.
V.
HER FIRST LOVE,
SHE no longer doubts her beauty. She is loved.
She saw him secretly. He is vivacious and sprightly. He
is famous. He has already had an affair with Einfin, the
filU de chambre, and poor Einfin is desolate. He is noble.
She knows he is the son of Madame la Baromie Couturiere.
She adores him.
She affects not to notice him. Poor little thing !
Hippolyte is distracted — annihilated — inconsolable and
charming.
She admires his boots, his cravat, his little gloves — his
exquisite pantaloons — his coat, and cane.
She offers to run away with him. He is transported,
LA FEMME. 231
but magnanimous. He is wearied, perhaps. She sees him
frhe next day offering flowers to the daughter of Madame la
Oomtesse Blanchisseuse.
She ig again in tears.
She reads Paul et Virginie. She is secretly transported.
When she reads how the exemplary young woman laid
down her life rather than appear en deshabille to her lover,
she weeps again. Tasteful and virtuous Bemardine de St.
Pierre ! — the daughters of France admire you !
-All this time her doll is headless in the cabinet. The
mud pie is broken on the road.
VI.
THE WIFE.
SHE is tired of loving, and she marries.
Her mother thinks it, on the whole, the best thing. As
the day approaches, she is found frequently in tears. Her
mother will not permit the affianced one to see her, and he
makes several attempts to commit suicide.
But something happens. Perhaps it is winter, and the
water is cold. Perhaps there are not enough people present
to witness his heroism.
In this way her future husband is spared to her. She
will offer philosophy. She will tell her she was married
herself.
But what is this new and ravishing light that breaks
upon her ? The toilette and wedding clothes ! She is in a
new sphere.
She makes out her list in her own charming writing.
Here it is. Let every mother heed it.*
The delicate reader will appreciate the omission of certain articles
for which English synonyms are forbidden,
232 MARY McGILLUP.
She is married. On the day after, she meets her old
lover, Hippolyte. He is again transported
VII.
HER OLD AGE.
A FRENCH woman never grows old.
MARY McGILLUP.
"a Southern $obd.
AFTER BELLE BOYD.
CHAPTER I.
TJ* VERY reader of Belle Boyd's narrative will remember
•7-* an allusion to a " lovely, fragile-looking girl of nine
teen," who rivalled Belle Boyd in devotion to the Southern
cause, and who, like her, earned the enviable distinction of
being a " rebel spy."
I am that " fragile " young creature. Although on
friendly terms with the late Miss Boyd, now Mrs. Harding,
candour compels me to state that nothing but our common
politics prevents me from exposing the ungenerous spirit she
has displayed in this allusion. To be dismissed in a single
paragraph after years of — but I anticipate. To put up with
this feeble and forced acknowledgment of serv'ces rendered
would be a confession of a craven spirit, which, thank God,
though "fragile" and only "nineteen," I do not possess.
I may not have the " blood of a Howard" in my veins, as
some people, whom I shall not disgrace myself by naming,
claim to have, but I have yet to learn that the race of
M'Gillup ever yet brooked slight or insult. I shall not say
MARY McGILL UP. 233
that attention in certain quarters seems to have turned some
people's heads ; nor that it would have been more delicate
if certain folks had kept quiet on the subject of their court
ship, and the rejection of certain offers, when it is known
that their forward conduct was all that procured them a
husband ! Thank Heaven, the South has some daughters
who are above such base considerations. While nothing
shall tempt me to reveal the promises to share equally the
fame of certain enterprises which were made by one who
shall now be nameless, I have deemed it only just to myself
to put my own adventures upon record. If they are not
equal to those of another individual, it is because, though
"fragile," my education has taught me to have some con
sideration for the truth. I am done.
CHAPTER II.
I WAS born in Missouri. My dislike for the Northern scum
was inherent. This was shown, at an early age, in the
extreme distaste I exhibited for Webster's spelling-book —
the work of a well-known Eastern Abolitionist. I cannot
be too grateful for the consideration shown by my chival
rous father— a gentleman of the old school — who resisted to
the last an attempt to introduce Mitchell's Astronomy and
Geography into the public school of our district. When I
state that this same Mitchell became afterward a hireling
helot in the Yankee Army, every intelligent reader will
appreciate the prophetic discrimination of this true son of
the South.
I was eight years old when I struck the first blow for
Southern freedom against the Northern Tyrant. It is
hardly necessary to state that in this instance the oppressor
was a pale, over-worked New England " school-marm." The
principle for which I was contending, I felt, however, to be
the same. Resenting an affront put upon me, I one day
234 MAR Y McGILL UP.
heaved a rock'55" at the head of the Vandal schoolmistress.
I was seized and overpowered. My pen falters as I reach
the climax. English readers will not give credit to this
sickening story — the civilised world will avert its head — but
I, Mary McGillup, was publicly SPANKED !
CHAPTER III.
BUT the chaotic vortex of civil war approached, and fell
destruction, often procrastinated, brooded in the storm. f
As the English people may like to know what was really
the origin of the rebellion, I have no hesitation in giving
them the true and only cause. Slavery had nothing to do
with it, although the violation of the Declaration of Inde
pendence, in the disregard by the North of the Fugitive
Slave Law,J might have provoked a less fiery people than
the Southrons. At the inception of the struggle a large
amount of Southern indebtedness was held by the people of
the North. To force payment from the generous but insol
vent debtor — to obtain liquidation from the Southern
planter — was really the soulless and mercenary object of
the craven Northerners. Let the common people of Eng
land look to this. Let the improvident literary hack ; the
starved impecunious Grub Street debtor ; the newspaper fre
quenter of sponging-houses, remember this in their criticisms
of the vile and slavish Yankee.
* NOTE, BY B. B. B. — In the South-west, any stone larger than a pea
is termed "a rock."
t I make no pretension to fine writing, but perhaps Mrs. Harding
can lay over that. Oh, of course ! M. McG.
J The Declaration of Independence grants to each subject " the
pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness." A fugitive slave may be said to
personify " life, liberty, and happiness." Hence his pursuit is really
;egaL This is logic. B. B. B.
MAR Y McGILL UP. 235
CHAPTER IV,
THE roasting of an Abolitionist, by a greatly infuriated
community, was my first taste of the horrors of civil war.
Heavens ! Why will the North persist in this fratricidal
warfare 1 The expulsion of several Union refugees, which
soon followed, now fairly plunged my beloved State in the
seething vortex.
I was sitting at the piano one afternoon, singing that
stirring refrain, so justly celebrated, but which a craven
spirit, unworthy of England, has excluded from some of her
principal restaurants, and was dwelling with some enthusiasm
on the following line :
*' Huzza ! she spurns the Northern scum ! "
when a fragment of that scum, clothed in that detestable
blue uniform which is the symbol of oppression, entered the
apartment. " I have the honour of addressing the celebrated
rebel spy, Miss McGillup," said the "Vandal officer.
In a moment I was perfectly calm. With the exception
of slightly expectorating twice in the face of the minion, I
did not betray my agitation. Haughtily, yet firmly, I
replied :
« I am."
" You looked as if you might be," the brute replied, as he
turned on his heel to leave the apartment.
In an instant I threw myself before him. " Y"ou shall
not leave here thus," I shrieked, grappling him with an
energy which no one, seeing my frail figure, would have
believed. " I know the reputation of your hireling crew.
I read your dreadful purpose in your eye. Tell me not that
your designs are not sinister. You came here to insult me
—to kiss me, perhaps. You shan't — you naughty mail.
Go away I"
236 MAR Y McGILL UP.
The blush of conscious degradation rose to the cheek of
the Lincoln hireling as he turned his face away from mine.
In an instant I drew my pistol from my belt, which, in
anticipation of some such outrage, I always carried, and shot
him.
CHAPTER V.
" Thy forte was less to act than speak,
Maryland !
Thy politics were changed each week,
Maryland !
With Northern Vandals thou wast meek,
With sympathisers thou wouldst skriek,
I know thee — 0 'twas like thy cheek !
Maryland ! my Maryland ! "
AFTER committing the act described in the preceding
chapter, which every English reader will pardon, I went
up-stairs, put on a clean pair of stockings, and placing a rose
in my lustrous black hair, proceeded at once to the camp of
Generals Price and Mosby to put them in possession of in
formation which would lead to the destruction of a portion
of the Federal army. During a great part of my flight I
was exposed to a running fire from the Federal pickets of
such coarse expressions as,
" Go it, Sally Eeb."
" Dust it, my Confederate beauty."
But I succeeded in reaching the glorious Southern camp
uninjured.
Tn a weak afterwards I was arrested, by a lettre de cachet
of Mr. Stanton, and placed in the Bastile. British readers
of my story will express surprise at these terms, but I
assure them that not only these articles but tumbrils,
guillotines, and conciergeries were in active use among the
Federals. If substantiation be required, I refer to the
Charleston Mercury , the only reliable organ, next to the
MAR Y McGILL UP. 237
Kew York Daily News, published in the country. At the
Bastile I made the acquaintance of the accomplished and
elegant author of Guy Livingstone* to whom I presented a
curiously-carved thigh-bone of a Union officer, and from
whom I received the following beautiful acknowledgment: —
"Demoiselle: Should I ever win hame to my ain conntrie,
I make mine avow to enshrine in my reliquaire this elegant
bijouterie and offering of La> Belle Eebelle. Nay, methinks
this fraction of man's anatomy were some compensation for
the rib lost by the ' grand old gardener,' Adam."
CHAPTER VI.
RELEASED at last from durance vile and placed on board of
an Erie canal-boat, on my way to Canada, I for a moment
breathed the sweets of liberty. Perhaps the interval gave
me opportunity to indulge in certain reveries which I had
hitherto sternly dismissed. Henry Breckin ridge Folair, a
consistent copperhead, captain of the canal-boat, again and
again pressed that suit I had so often rejected.
It was a lovely moonlight night. We sat on the deck of
the gliding craft. The moonbeam and the lash of the driver
fell softly on the flanks of the off-horse, and only the surging
of the tow-rope broke the silence. Folair's arm clasped my
waist. I suffered it to remain. Placing in my lap a small
but not ungrateful roll of checkerberry lozenges, he took the
occasion to repeat softly in my ear the words of a motto he
had just unwrapped — with its graceful covering of the tissue-
paper — from a sugar almond. The heart of the wicked little
rebel, Mary McGillup, was won !
* The recent conduct of Mr. Livingstone renders him unworthy of
my notice. His disgusting praise of Belle Boyd, and complete ignoring
of my claims, show the artfulness of some females and puppyism of
some men. M. McG.
238 MISS MIX.
The story of Mary McGillup is done. I might have added
the journal of my husband, Henry Breckinridge Folair, but
as it refers chiefly to his freights, and a schedule of his
passengers, I have been obliged, reluctantly, to suppress it.
It is due to my friends to say that I have been requested
not to write this book. Expressions have reached my ears,
the reverse of complimentary, I have been told that its
publication will probably ensure my banishment for life. Be
it so. If the cause for which I laboured have been sub
served, I am content.
LONDON, May, 1865. • ;
MISS MIX.
BY CH-L-TTE BR-NTE,
CHAPTER I.
TV /T Y earliest impressions are of a huge, mis-shapen rock,
•*• against which the hoarse waves beat unceasingly. On
this rock three pelicans are standing in a defiant attitude. A
dark sky lowers in -the background, while two sea-gulls and
a gigantic cormorant eye with extreme disfavour the floating
corpse of a drowned woman in. the foreground. A few
bracelets, coral necklaces, and other articles of jewelry,
scattered around loosely, complete this remarkable picture.
It is one which, in some vague, unconscious way, symbo
lises, to my fancy, the character of a man. I have never
been able to explain exactly why. I think I must have
seen the picture in some illustrated volume, when a baby, or
my mother may have dreamed it before I was born.
As a child I was not handsome. When I consulted the
triangular bit of looking-glass which I always carried with
me, it showed a pale, sandy and freckled face, shaded by
MISS MIX. 239
locks like the colour of sea-weed when the sun strikes it in
deep water. My eyes were said to be indistinctive ; they
were a faint ashen grey j but above them rose — my only
beauty — a high, massive, domelike forehead, with polished
temples, like door-knobs of the purest porcelain.
Our family was a family of governesses. My mother had
been one, and my sisters had the same occupation. Conse
quently, when at the age of thirteen, my eldest sister handed
me the advertisement of Mr. Tlawj ester, clipped from that
day's Times, I accepted it as my destiny. Nevertheless, a
mysterious presentiment of an indefinite future haunted me
in my dreams that night, as I lay upon my little snow-white
bed. The next morning, with two band-boxes tied up in
silk handkerchiefs, and a hair trunk, I turned my back upon
Minerva Cottage for ever.
CHAPTER IL
BLUNDEBBORE HALL, the seat of James Eawjester, Esq., was
encompassed by dark pines and funereal hemlocks on all sides.
The wind sang weirdly in the turrets and moaned through
the long-drawn avenues of the park. As I approached the
house I saw several mysterious figures flit before the
windows, and a yell of demoniac laughter answered my
summons at the bell. While I strove to repress my gloomy
forebodings, the housekeeper, a timid, scared-looking old
woman, showed me into the library.
I entered, overcome with conflicting emotions. I was
dressed in a narrow gown of dark serge, trimmed with black
bugles. A thick green shawl was pinned across my breast.
My hands were encased with black half-mittens worked
with steel beads ; on my feet were large pattens, originally
the property of my deceased grandmother. I carried a blue
cotton umbrella. As I passed before a mirror, I could not
240 MISS Mix.
iielp glancing at it, nor could I disguise from myself the fact
that I was not handsome.
Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with folded
hands, calmly awaiting the arrival of my master. Once or
twice a fearful yell rang through the house, or the rattling of
chains, and curses uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon
the oppressive stillness. I began to feel my soul rising with
the emergency of the moment.
" You look alarmed, miss. You don't hear anything, my
dear, do you 1" asked the housekeeper nervously.
" Nothing whatever," I remarked calmly, as a terrific
scream, followed by the dragging of chairs and tables in the
room above, drowned for a moment my reply. " It is the
silence, on the contrary, which has made me foolishly
nervous."
The housekeeper looked at me approvingly, and instantly
made some tea for me.
I drank seven cups ; as I was beginning the eighth, I
heard a crash, and the next moment a man leaped into the
room through the broken window.
CHAPTER III.
THE crash startled me from my self-control. The house
keeper bent toward me and whispered :
" Don't be excited. It's Mr. Rawj ester — he prefers to
come in sometimes in this way. It's his playfulness, ha !
ha! ha!"
" I perceive," I said calmly. " It's the unfettered impulse
of a lofty soul breaking the tyrannising bonds of custom,"
and I turned toward him.
He had never once looked at me. He stood with his back
to the fire, which set off the Herculean breadth of his
shoulders. His face was dark and expressive ; his under-
MISS MIX. 2 1 i
jaw squarely formed, and remarkably heavy. I was struck
with his remarkable likeness to a Gorilla.
As he absently tied the poker into hard knots with his
nervous fingers, I watched him with some interest. Sud
denly he turned toward me :
" Do you think I'm handsome, young woman T'
" Not classically beautiful," I returned calmly ; "but you
have, if I may so express myself, an abstract manliness — a
sincere and wholesome barbarity which, involving as it does
the naturalness" — but I stopped, for he yawned at that
moment — an action which singularly developed the immense
breadth of his lower jaw — and I saw he had forgotten me.
Presently he turned to the housekeeper :
" Leave us."
The old woman withdrew with a courtesy.
Mr. Rawj ester deliberately turned his back upon me and
remained silent for twenty minutes. I drew my shawl the
more closely around my shoulders and closed my eyes.
" You are the governess 1" at length he said.
" I am, sir/'
" A creature who teaches geography, arithmetic, and the
use of the globes — ha ! — a wretched remnant of femininity —
a skimp pattern of girlhood with a premature flavour of tea-
leaves and morality. Ugh ! "
I bowed my head silently.
" Listen to me, girl ! " he said sternly ; " this child you
have come to teach — my ward — is not legitimate. She is
the offspring of my mistress —a common harlot. Ah ! Miss
Mix, what do you think of me now f
" I admire," I replied, calmly, " your sincerity. A maw
kish regard for delicacy might have kept this disclosure to
yourself. I only recognise in your frankness that perfect
community of thought and sentiment which should exist
between original natures."
I looked up ; he had already forgotten my presence, and
2,p MISS MIX.
was engaged in pulling off his boots and coat. This done,
lie sank down in an arm-chair before the fire, and ran the
poker wearily through his hair. 1 could not help pitying him.
The wind howled fearfully without, and the rain beat
furiously against the windows. I crept toward him and
seated myself on a low stool beside his chair.
Presently he turned, without seeing me, and placed hia
foot absently in my lap. I affected not to notice it. But
he started and looked down.
" You here yet, Carrothead 1 Ah, I forgot. Do you
speak French ?"
" Oui, Monsieur"
11 Taisez-vous /" he said sharply, with singular purity of
accent. I complied. The wind moaned fearfully in the
chimney, and the light burned dim. I shuddered in spite of
inysel£ " Ah, you tremble, girl i "
" It is a fearful night."
" Fearful ! Call you this fearful— ha ! ha ! ha ! Look !
you wretched little atom, look ! " and he dashed forward,
and, leaping out of the window, stood like a statute in the
pelting storm, with folded arms. He did not stay long, but
in a few minutes he returned by way of the hall chimney.
I saw from the way that he wiped his feet on my dress that
lie had again forgotten my presence.
" You are a governess. What can you teach V ' he asked,
suddenly and fiercely thrusting his face in mine.
" Manners ! " I replied calmly,
"Ha ! teach met"
"You mistake yourself," I said adjusting my mittens.
"Your manners require not the artificial restraint of society.
You are radically polite ; this impetuosity and ferociousness
is simply the sincerity which is the basis of a proper deport
ment. Your instincts are moral ; your better nature, I see,
is religious. As St. Paul justly remarks — see chap. 6, 8, SI,
and 10 "
MfSS MIX. 243
He seized a heavy candlestick, and threw it at me. I
dodged it submissively, but firmly.
" Excuse me," lie remarked, as his undcr-jaw slowly
relaxed. " Excuse me, Miss Mix — but I can't stand St.
Paul Enough — you are engaged."
CHAPTER IV.
I FOLLOWED the housekeeper as she led the way timidly to
my room. As we passed into a dark hall in the wing, I
noticed that it was closed by an iron gate with a grating.
Three of the doors on the corridor were likewise grated. A
strange noise, as of shuffling feet, and the howling of in
furiated animals, rang through the hall. Bidding the house
keeper good night, and taking the candle, I entered my
bedchamber.
I took off my dress, and putting on a yellow flannel night
gown, which I could not help feeling did not agree with my
complexion, I composed myself to rest by reading Blairs
Rhetoric and Paley's Moral Philosophy. I had just put out
the light, when I heard voices in the corridor. I listened
attentively. I recognised Mr. Rawj ester's stern tones.
" Have you fed No. 1 V he asked.
" Yes, sir," said a gruff voice, apparently belonging to e
domestic.
" How's No. 2 1"
" She's a little off her feed just now, but will pick up in a
day or two ! "
« And No. 3 r
" Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are ungovernable."
"Hush!"
The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful slumber.
I dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical forest.
Suddenly I saw the figure of a gorilla approaching me. As
it neared me, I recognised the features of Mr. Rawj ester.
244 MISS MIX.
He held his hand to his side as if in pain. I saw that he
had been wounded. He recognised me and called me by
name, but at the same moment the vision changed to an
Ashantee village, where, around the fire, a group of negroes
were dancing and participating in some wild Obi festival. I
awoke with the strain still surging in my ears.
" Hokee-pokee wokee fum !"
Good Heavens ! could I be dreaming ? I heard the voice
distinctly on the floor below, and smelt something burning.
I arose, with an indistinct presentiment of evil, and hastily
puting some cotton in my ears and tying a towel about my
head, I wrapped myself in a shawl and rushed down
stairs. The door of Mr. Rawj ester's room was open. I
entered.
Mr. Rawj ester lay apparently in a deep slumber, from
which even the clouds of smoke that came from the burning
curtains of his bed could not rouse him. Around the room
a large and powerful negress, scantily attired, with her head
adorned with feathers, was dancing wildly, accompanying
herself with bone castanets. It looked like some terrible
feticJi.
I did not lose my calmness. After firmly emptying the
pitcher, basin, and slop-jar on the burning bed, I proceeded
cautiously to the garden, and, returning with the garden-
engine, I directed a small stream at Mr. Rawj ester.
At my entrance the gigantic negress fled. Mr. Kawj ester
yawned and woke. I explained to him, as he rose dripping
from the bed, the reason of my presence. He did not seem
to be excited, alarmed, or discomposed. He gazed at rne
curiously.
" So you risked your life to save mine, eh 1 you canary-
coloured teacher of infants V1
I blushed modestly, and drew my shawl tightly over my
yellow flannel nightgown.
f< You love me, Mary Jane — don't deny it ! This tremb-
MISS MIX. 245
ling shows it ! " He drew me closely towards him, and said,
with his deep voice tenderly modulated :
" How's her pooty tootens — did she get her 'ittle tootens
wet — b'ess her V9
I understood his allusion to my feet. I glanced down and
saw that in my hurry I had put on a pair of his old India-
rubbers. My feet were not small or pretty, and the addition
did not add to their beauty.
" Let me go, sir," I remarked quietly. " This is all im
proper j it sets a bad example for your child ;" and I firmly
but gently extricated myself from his grasp. I approached
the door. He seemed for a moment buried in deep thought.
" You say this was a negress ?"
"Yes, sir."
"Humph ; No. 1, I suppose !"
" Who is Number One, sir V
"My first" he remarked, with a significant and sarcastic
smile. Then, relapsing into his old manner, he threw his
boots at my head, and bade me begone. I withdrew calmly.
CHAPTER V.
MY pupil was a bright little girl, who spoke French with a
perfect accent. Her mother had been a French ballet^
dancer, which probably accounted for it. Although she was
only six years old, it was easy to perceive that she had been
several times in love. She once said to me :
" Miss Mix, did you ever have the gr ancle passion 1 Did
you ever feel a fluttering here f and she placed her hand
upon her small chest, and sighed quaintly, "a kind of dis
taste for bonbons and caromels, when the world seemed as
tasteless and hollow as a broken cordial drop."
" Then you have felt it, Nina V I said quietly.
** O dear, yes. There was Buttons — that was our page,
246 MISS MIX.
you know — I loved him dearly, but papa sent him away.
Then there was Dick, the groom, but he laughed at me, and
I suffered misery !" and she struck a tragic French attitude.
" There is to be company here to-morrow," she added,
rattling on with childish naivete, " and papa's sweetheart —
Blanche Marabout — is to be here. You know they say she
is to be my mamma,"
What thrill was this shot through me? But I rose
calmly, and administering a slight correction to the child,
left the apart ment.
Blunderbore House, for the next week, was the scene of
gaiety and merriment. That portion of the mansion closed
with a grating was walled up, and the midnight shrieks no
longer troubled me.
But I felt more keenly the degradation of my situation.
I was obliged to help Lady Blanche at her toilette and help
her to look beautiful. For what 1 To captivate him 1 Oh
— no, no — but why this sudden thrill and faintness 1 Did
he really love her 1 I had seen him pinch and swear at her.
But I reflected that he had thrown a candlestick at my head,
and ixiy foolish heart was reassured.
It was a night of festivity, when a sudden message obliged
Mr. Rawj ester to leave his guests for a few hours. " Make
yourselves merry, idiots," he added, under his breath, as he
passed me. The door closed and he was gone.
A half hour passed. In the midst of the dancing a shriek
was heard, and out of the swaying crowd of fainting women
and excited men, a wild figure strode into the room. One
glance showed it to be a highwayman, heavily armed, hold
ing a pistol in each hand.
" Let no one pass out of this room !" he said, in a voice of
thunder. " The house is surrounded and you cannot escape.
The first one who crosses yonder threshold will be shot liko
a dog. Gentlemen, I'll trouble you to approach in single
file, and hand me your purses and watches."
MfSS MIX. 247
Finding resistance useless, the order was ungraciously
obeyed.
"Now, ladies, please to pass up your jewelry and
trinkets."
This order was still more ungraciously complied with. As
Blanche handed to the bandit captain her bracelet, she en
deavoured to conceal a diamond necklace, the gift of Mr.
Rawj ester, in her bosom. But, with a demoniac grin, the
powerful brute tore it from its concealment, and adminis
tering a hearty box on the ear of the young girl, flung her
aside.
It was now my turn. Witk a beating heart, I made
my way to the robber chieftain, and sank at his feet.
"Oh, sir, I am nothing but a poor governess, pray let
me go."
" Oh, ho ! A governess ? Give me your last month's
wages, then. Give me what you have stolen from your
master !" and he laughed fiendishly.
I gazed at him quietly, and said, in a low voice, " I have
stolen nothing from you, Mr. Rawj ester !"
"Ah, discovered? Hush! listen, girl!" he hissed, in a
fiercer whisper, "utter a syllable to frustrate my plans and
you die — aid me, and " but he was gone.
In a few moments the party, with the exception of
myself, were gagged and locked in the cellar. The next
moment torches were applied to the rich hangings, and the
house was in flames. I felt a strong hand seize me, and
bear me out in the open air and place me upon the hillside,
where I could overlook the burning mansion. It was Mr.
Rawj ester.
" Burn !" he said, as he shook his fist at the flames. Then
sinking on his knees before me, he said hurriedly :
" Mary Jane, I love you ; the obstacles to our union are
or will be soon removed. In yonder mansion were confined
my three crazy wives. One of them, as you know, attempted
248 Ar N.
to kill me ! Ha ! this is vengeance ! But will you be
mine 1 "
I fell, without a word, upon his neck.
NN.
33etng a $obd in tf)C JFrcncf) ^paragraphic Stglt.
_ T\/T ADEMOISELLE, I swear to you that I love
**•*• you.
— You who read these pages. You who turn your burn
ing eyes upon these words — words that I trace — Ah,
Heaven ! the thought maddens me.
— I will be calm. I will imitate the reserve of the festive
Englishman, who wears a spotted handkerchief which he
calls a Belchio, who eats biftek, and caresses a bull-dog. I
will subdue myself like him.
— Ha ! Poto-beer ! All right — Goddam !
— Or, I will conduct myself as the free-born American —
the gay Brother Jonathan ! I will whittle me a stick. I
will whistle to myself "Yankee Doodle," and forget my
passion in excessive expectoration.
— Hoho ! — wake snakes and walk chalks.
The world is divided into two great divisions : Paris and
the provinces. There is but one Paris. There are several pro
vinces, among which may be numbered England, America,
Russia, and Italy.
N N. was a Parisian.
But N N. did not live in Paris. Drop a Parisian in the
provinces, and you drop a part of Paris with him. Drop
him in Senegambia, and in three days he will give you an
omelette soufflee or a pate de foie gras, served by the neatest
of Senegambian files, whom he will call Mademoiselle. In
three weeks he will give you an opera.
N N. 249
N N. was not dropped in Senegambia, but in San Fran
cisco — quite as awkward.
They find gold in San Francisco, but they don't under
stand gilding.
N 1ST. existed three years in this place. He became bald
on the top of his head, as all Parisians do. Look down
from your box at the OpeYa Comique, Mademoiselle, and
count the bald crowns of the fast young men in the pit.
Ah — you tremble ! They show where the arrows of love
have struck and glanced off.
N N. was also near-sighted, as all Parisians finally be
come. This is a gallant provision of Nature to spare them
the mortification of observing that their lady friends grow old.
After a certain age every woman is handsome to a Parisian.
One day, N N. was walking down Washington- street.
Suddenly he stopped.
He was standing before the door of a milliner's shop.
Beside the counter, at the further extremity of the shop,
stood a young and elegantly-formed woman. Her face was
turned from N X. He entered. "With a plausible excuse,
and seeming indifference, he gracefully opened conversation
with the milliner as only a Parisian can. But he had to
deal with a Parisian. His attempts to view the features of
the fair stranger by the counter were deftly combated by
the shop-woman. He was obliged to retire.
N 1ST. went home and lost his appetite. He was hannted
by the elegant basque and graceful shoulders of the fair
unknown, during the whole night.
The next day he sauntered by the milliner. Ah ! Heavens !
A thrill ran through his frame, and his fingers tingled with
a delicious electricity. The fair inconnu was there ! He
raised his hat gracefully. He was not certain, but he thought
that a slight motion of her faultless bonnet betrayed recogni
tion. He would have wildly darted into the shop, but just
then the figure of the milliner appeared in the doorway.
250 N N.
— Did Monsieur wish anything 1
Misfortune ! Desperation ! N N. purchased a bottle of
prussic acid, a sack of charcoal, and a quire of pink note-
paper, and returned home. He wrote a letter of farewell to the
closely-fitting basque, and opened the bottle of prussic acid.
Some one knocked at his door. It was a Chinaman, with
iis weekly linen.
These Chinese are docile, but not intelligent. They are
ingenious, but not creative. They are cunning in expe
dients, but deficient in tact. In love they are simply
barbarous. They purchase their wives openly, and not
constructively by attorney. By offering small sums for
their sweethearts, they degrade the value of the sex.
Nevertheless, N N". felt he was saved. He explained all
to the faithful Mongolian, and exhibited the letter he had
written. He implored him to deliver it.
The Mongolian assented. The race are not cleanly or
sweet-savoured, but N N. fell upon his neck. He embraced
him with one hand, and closed his nostrils with the other.
Through him he felt he clasped the close-fitting basque.
The next day was one of agony and suspense. Evening
came, but no Mercy. N N. lit the charcoal. But, to com
pose his nerves, he closed his door and first walked mildly
up and down Montgomery Street. When he returned, he
found the faithful Mongolian on the steps.
—All lity !
These Chinese are not accurate in their pronunciation.
They avoid the r, like the English nobleman.
N N. gasped for breath. He leaned heavily against the
Chinaman.
— Then you have seen her, Ching Long ?
— Yes. All lity. She cum. Top side of house.
The docile barbarian pointed up the stairs, and chuckled.
— She here — impossible ! Ah, Heaven ! do I dream ?
Yes. All lity — top side of house. Good-bye, John.
NN. 251
This is the familiar parting epithet of the Mongolian. It
is equivalent to our au revoir.
N N. gazed with a stupefied air on the departing servant.
He placed his hand on his throbbing heart. She here —
alone beneath bis roof. Oh, Heavens — what happiness !
But how ? Torn from her home. Ruthlessly dragged,
perhaps, from her evening devotions, by the hands of a re
lentless barbarian. Could she forgive him ?
He dashed frantically up the stairs. He opened the door.
She was standing beside his couch with averted face.
A strange giddiness overtook him. He sank upon his
knees at the threshold.
— Pardon, pardon. My angel, can you forgive me ?
A terrible nausea now seemed added to the fearful giddi
ness. His utterance grew thick and sluggish.
— Speak, speak, enchantress. Forgiveness is all I ask.
My Love, my Life !
She did not answer. He staggered to his feet. As he rose,
his eyes fell on the pan of burning charcoal. A terrible
suspicion flashed across his mind. This giddiness — this
nausea. The ignorance of the barbarian. This silence. O
merciful heavens ; she was dying !
He crawled toward her. He touched her. She fell for
ward with a lifeless sound upon the floor. He uttered a
piercing shriek, and threw himself beside her.
*****
A file of gendarmes, accompanied by the Chef Burke,
found him the next morning lying lifeless u pon the floor.
They laughed brutally — these cruel minions of the law — and
disengaged his arm from the waist of the wooden dummy
which they had come to reclaim from the mantua-maker.
Emptying a few bucketfuls of water over his form, they
finally succeeded in robbing him, not only of his mistress,
but of that Death he had coveted without her.
Ah ! we live in a strange world, Messieurs.
252 NO TfTLF
NO TITLE.
BY W-I.K-E C-LL-NS.
PROLOGUE.
nPHE following advertisement appeared in the Times of
* the 17th of June, 1845:
V\7" ANTED. — A few young men for a light genteel employment.
VV Address J.W.,P. 0.
In the same paper, of same date, in another column :
/"p 0 LET. — That commodious and elegant family mansion, No. 27,
•*• Limehouse Road, Pultneyville, will be rented low to a respectable
tenant if applied for immediately, the family being about to remove to
the continent.
Under the local intelligence, in another column :
MISSING. — An unknown elderly gentleman a week ago left his
lodgings in the Kent Boad, since which nothing has been heard
of him. He left no trace of his identity except a portmanteau con
taining a couple of shirts marked " 209, WARD."
To find the connection between the mysterious disappear
ance of the elderly gentleman and the anonymous communi
cation, the relevancy of both these incidents to the letting
of a commodious family mansion, and the dead secret in
volved in the three occurrences, is the task of the writer of
this history.
A slim young man with spectacles, a large hat, drab
gaiters, and a note-book, sat late that night with a copy of
the Times before him, and a pencil which he rattled ner
vously between his teeth, in the coffee-room of the " Blue
Dragon."
NO TITLE. 253
CHAPTER I.
MARY JONES'S NARRATIVE.
I AM upper housemaid to the family that live at No. 27,
Limehouse Road, Pultneyville. I have been requested by
Mr. Wilkey Ceilings, which I takes the liberty of here stating
is a gentleman born and bred, and has some consideration for
the feelings of servants, and is not above rewarding them for
their trouble, which is more than you can say for some who
ask questions and gets short answers enough, gracious knows,
to tell what I know about them. I have been requested to
tell my story in my own langwidge, though, being no schol-
lard, mind cannot conceive. I think my master is a brute.
Do not know that he has ever attempted to poison my missus
— which is too good for him, and how she ever came to
marry him, heart only can tell — but believe him to be capable
of any such hatrosity. Have heard him swear dreadful
because of not having his shaving water at 9 o'clock pre
cisely. Do not know whether he ever forged a will or tried
to get my missus' property, although, not having confidence
in the man, should not be suprised if he had done so.
Believe that there was always something mysterious in his
conduct. Remember distinctly how the family left home
to go abroad. Was putting up my back hair, last Saturday
morning, when I heard a ring. Says cook, " That's missus'
bell, and mind you hurry, or the master 'ill know why." Says I,
" Humbly thanking you, mem, but taking advice of them as
is competent to give it, I'll take my time." Found missus
dressing herself, and master growling as usual. Says missus,
quite calm and easy like, " Mary, we begin to pack to-day."
" What for, mem ? " says I, taken aback. " What's that
hussy asking 1 " says master from the bedclothes, quite
eavage like. " For the Continent — Italy," says missus ; "can
you go, Mary ? " Her voice was quite gentle and saintlike,
2 $4 NO TITLE.
but I knew the struggle it cost, and says I, " With you,
mem, to India's torrid clime, if required, but with African
Gorillas," says I, looking toward the bed, " never." " Leave
the room," says master, starting up and catching of his boot
jack. " Why, Charles," says missus, " how you talk ! " affect
ing surprise. "Do go, Mary," says she, slipping a half-
crown into my hand. I left the room scorning to take
notice of the odious wretch's conduct.
Cannot say whether my master and missus were ever
legally married. What with the dreadful state of morals
now-a-days, and them stories in the circulating libraries,
innocent girls don't know into what society they might be
obliged to take situations. Never saw missus' marriage cer
tificate, though I have quite accidental-like looked in her
desk when open, and would have seen it. Do not know
of any lovers missus might have had. Believe she had a
liking for John Thomas, footman, for she was always spite-
ful-like — poor lady — when we were together — though there
was nothing between us, as cook well knows, and dare not
deny, and missus needn't have been jealous. Have never
seen arsenic or Prussian acid in any of the private drawers,
but have seen paregoric and camphor. One of my master's
friends was a Count Moscow, a Eussian papist — which I
detested.
CHAPTER II.
THE SLIM YOUNG MAN'S STORY.
I AM by profession a reporter, and writer for the press. I
live at Pultneyville. I have always had a passion for the
marvellous, and have been distinguished for my facility in
tracing out mysteries, and solving enigmatical occurrences.
On the night of the 17th June, 1845, I left my office and
walked homeward. The night was bright and starlight. 1
was revolving in my mind the words of a singular item I had
NO TITLE. 255
just read in the Times. I had reached the darkest portion
of the road, and found myself mechanically repeating "An
elderly gentleman a week ago left his lodgings in the Kent
Road," when suddenly I heard a step behind me.
I turned quickly, with an expression of horror in my face,
and by the light of the newly-risen moon beheld an elderly
gentleman, with green cotton umbrella, approaching me. His
hair, which was snow-white, was parted over a broad, open
forehead. The expression of his face, which was slightly
flushed, was that of amiability verging almost upon imbeci
lity. There was a strange, inquiring look about the widely-
opened mild blue eye — a look that might have been intensi
fied to insanity, or modified to idiocy. As he passed me, he
paused, and partly turned his face, with a gesture of inquiry.
I see him still, his white locks blowing in the evening breeze,
his hat a little on the back of his head, and his figure painted
in relief against the dark blue sky.
Suddenly he turned his mild eye full upon me. A weak
smile played about his thin lips. In a voice which had
something of the tremulousness of age and the self-satisfied
chuckle of imbecility in it, he asked, pointing to the rising
moon, "Why?— Hush!"
He had dodged behind me, and appeared to be looking
anxiously down the road. I could feel his aged frame shak
ing with terror as he laid his thin hands upon my shoulders
and faced me in the direction of the supposed danger.
"Hush ! did you not hear them coming 1"
I listened ; there was no sound but the soughing of the
roadside trees in the evening wind. I endeavoured to re
assure him, with such success that in a few moments the old
weak smile appeared on his benevolent face.
"Why? " But the look of interrogation was suc
ceeded by a hopeless blankness.
*' Why !" I repeated with assuring accents.
« Why," he said, a gleam of intelligence nickering over
256 NO TITLE.
nis face, " is yonder moon, as she sails in the blue empyrean,
casting a flood of light o'er hill and dale, like — Why," he
repeated with a feeble smile, " is yonder moon, as she sails
in the blue empyrean — " He hesitated — stammered — and
gazed at me hopelessly, with the tears dripping from his
moist and widely-opened eyes.
I took his hand kindly in my own. " Casting a shadow
o'er hill and dale," I repeated quietly, leading him up the
subject, "like — Come, now."
" Ah ! " he said, pressing my hand tremulously, " yon
know it ?"
"I do. Why is it like — the — eh — the commodious man
sion in the Limehouse Road ? "
A blank stare only followed. He shook his head sadly.
" Like the young men wanted for a light, genteel employ
ment?"
He wagged his feeble old head cunningly.
"Or, Mr. Ward," I said with bold confidence, "like the
mysterious disappearance from the Kent Road."
The moment was full of suspense. He did not seem to
hear me. Suddenly he turned.
"Ha!"
I darted forward. But he had vanished in the darkness.
CHAPTER III.
I NO. 27, LIMEHOUSE ROAD.
IT was a hot midsummer evening. Limehouse Road was
deserted save by dust and a few rattling butchers' carts, and
the bell of the muffin and crumpet man. A commodious
mansion which stood on the right of the road as you enter
Pultneyville, surrounded by stately poplars and a high fence
surmounted by a chevaux defrise of broken glass, looked to
the passing and footsore pedestrian like the genius of seclu-
NO TITLE. 257
sion and solitude. A bill announcing in the usual terms
that the house was to let, hung from the bell at the servants'
entrance.
As the shades of evening closed, and the long shadows of
the poplars stretched across the road, a man carrying a small
kettle stopped and gazed, first at the bill and then at the
house. When he had reached the corner of the fence, he
again stopped and looked cautiously up and down the road.
Apparently satisfied with the result of his scrutiny, he deli
berately sat himself down in the dark shadow of the fence,
and at once busied himself in some employment, so well con
cealed as to be invisible to the gaze of passers-by. At the
end of an hour he retired cautiously.
But not altogether unseen. A slim young man, with
spectacles and note-book, stepped from behind a tree as the
retreating figure of the intruder was lost in the twilight, and
transferred from the fence to his note-book the freshly sten~
cilled inscription—" S— T— 1860— X."
CHAPTER IV.
COUNT MOSCOW'S NARRATIVE.
I AM a foreigner. Observe ! To be a foreigner in England
is to be mysterious, suspicious, intriguing. M. Collins has
requested the history of my complicity with certain occur
rences. It is nothing — bah — absolutely nothing.
I write with ease and fluency. Why should I not write 1
Tra la la ! I am what you English call corpulent. Ha,
ha ! I am a pupil of Macchiavelli. I find it much better
to disbelieve everything, and to approach my subject and
wishes circuitously, than in a direct manner. You have
observed that playful animal, the cat. Call it, and it (Joes
not come to you directly, but rubs itself against all the fUr-
nature in the room, and reaches you finally— and scratches,
258 NO TITLE.
£Ji, ha, scratches ! I am of the feline species. Poop!-?, ca1!
me a villain — bah !
I know the family living at No. 27, Liinehouse Hoad.
I respect the gentleman — a fine, burly specimen of your
Englishman — and madame, charming, ravishing, delightful.
When it became known to me that they designed to let their
delightful residence, and visit foreign shores, I at once called
upon them. I kissed the hand of madame. I embraced the
great Englishman. Madame blushed slightly. The great
Englishman shook my hand like a mastiff.
I began in that dexterous, insinuating manner of which 1
am truly proud. I thought madame was ill. Ah — no. A
change, then, was all that was required. I sat down at the
piano and sang. In a few minutes madame retired. I was
alone with my friend.
Seizing his hand, I began with every demonstration of
courteous sympathy. I do not repeat my words, for my
intention was conveyed more in accent, emphasis, and
manner, than speech. I hinted to him that he had another
wife living. I suggested that this was balanced — ha ! — by
his wife's lover. That, possibly, he wished to fly — hence the
letting of his delightful mansion. That he regularly and
systematically beat his wife in the English manner, and that
she repeatedly deceived him. I talked of hope, of consola
tion, of remedy. I carelessly produced a bottle of strychnine
and a small vial of stramonium from my pocket, and enlarged
on the efficiency of drugs. His face, which had gradually
become convulsed, suddenly became fixed with a frightful
expression. He started to his feet, and roared : " You d — d
Frenchman ! "
I instantly changed my tactics, and endeavoured to em
brace him. He kicked me twice, violently. I begged
permission to kiss madame's hand. He replied by throwing
me down-stairs.
I am iu bed with my head bound up, and beef-steaks
NO TITLE. 2$9
upon my eyes, but still confident and buoyant. I have not
lost faith in M'accniavelli. Tra la la 1 as they sing in the
opera. I kiss everybody's hands.
CHAPTER V.
DR. DIGGS' STATEMENT.
M Y name is David Diggs. I am a surgeon living at No. 9,
Tottenham Court. On the 15th of June, 1854, I was called
to see an elderly gentleman lodging in the Kent Road.
Found him highly excited, with strong febrile symptoms,
pulse 120, increasing. Repeated incoherently what I judged
to be the popular form of a conundrum. On closer exami
nation found acute hydrocephalus and both lobes of the brain
rapidly filling with water. In consultation with an eminent
phrenologist, it was further discovered that all the organs
were more or less obliterated except that of Comparison.
Hence the patient was enabled to only distinguish the most
common points of resemblance between objects, without
drawing upon other faculties, such as Ideality or Language,
for assistance. Later in the day found him sinking — being
evidently unable to carry the most ordinary conundrum to a
successful issue. Exhibited Tinct. Val., Ext. Opii, and
Camphor, and prescribed quiet and emollients. On the 17th
the patient was missing.
' CHAPTER LAST.
STATEMENT OF THE PUBLISHER.
ON the 18th of June, Mr. Wilkie Collins left a roll of manu
script with us for publication, without title or direction,
since which time he has not been heard from. In spite of
the care of the proof-readers, and valuable literary assistance^
B 2
26o HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
it is feared that the continuity of the story has been, de
stroyed by some accidental misplacing of chapters during its
progress. How and what chapters are so misplaced, tho
publisher leaves to an indulgent public to discover.
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
BY CH-S R-DE.
CHAPTER I.
HpHE Dodds were dead. For twenty years they had slept
^ under the green graves of Kittery churchyard. The
townfolk still spoke of them kindly. The keeper of the
alehouse, where David had smoked his pipe, regretted him
regularly, and Mistress Kitty, Mrs. D odd's maid, whose trim
figure always looked well in her mistress's gowns, was incon
solable. The Hardins were in America. Kaby was aristo
cratically gouty ; Mrs. Eaby, religious. Briefly, then, we
have disposed of —
1. Mr. and Mrs. Dodd (dead).
2. Mr. and Mrs. Hardin (translated).
3. Raby, baron et femme. (Yet I don't know about the
former ; he came of a long-lived family, and the gout is an
uncertain disease.)
"We have active at the present writing (place aux
dames} —
1 . Lady Caroline Coventry, niece of Sir Frederick.
2. Faraday Huxley Little, son of Henry and Grace LittLau
deceased.
Sequitur to the above, A HERO AND HEEOINE.
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 261
CHAPTER II.
ON the death of his parents, Faraday Little was taken td
JElaby Hall. In accepting his guardianship, Mr. Raby
struggled stoutly against two prejudices : Faraday was
plain-looking and sceptical.
" Handsome is as handsome does, sweetheart," pleaded
Jael, interceding for the orphan with arms that were still
beautiful. " Dear knows, it is not his fault if he does not
look like — his father," she added with a great gulp. Jael
was a woman, and vindicated her womanhood by never
entirely forgiving a former rival.
"It's not that alone, madam," screamed Raby, "but,
d — m it, the little rascal's a scientist, — an atheist, a radical,
a scoffer ! Disbelieves in the Bible, ma'am ; is full of this
Darwinian stuff about natural selection and descent. Descent,
forsooth ! In my day, madam, gentlemen were content to
trace their ancestors back to gentlemen, and not to —
monkeys ! "
" Dear heart, the boy is clever," urged Jael.
"Clever!" roared Baby; "what does a gentleman want
with cleverness ? "
CHAPTER III.
YOUNG Little was clever. At seven he had constructed a
telescope; at nine, a flying-machine. At ten he saved a
valuable life.
Norwood Park was the adjacent estate, — a lordly domain
clotted with red deer and black trunks, but scrupulously
kept with gravelled roads as hard and blue as steel. Thero
Little was strolling one summer morning, meditating on a
new top with concealed springs. At a little distance before
him he saw the flutter of lace and ribbons. A young lady,
262 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
a veiy young lady, — say of seven summers, — tricked out in
the crying abominations of the present fashion, stood beside
a low bush. Her nursery-maid was not present, possibly
owing to the fact that John the footman was also absent.
Suddenly Little came towards her. " Excuse me, but do
you know what those berries are % " He was pointing to the
low bush filled with dark clusters of shining — suspiciously
shining — fruit.
ie Certainly ; they are blueberries."
" Pardon me ; you are mistaken. They belong to quite
another family."
Miss Impudence drew herself up to her full height (exactly
three feet nine and a half inches), and, curling an eighth of
an inch of scarlet lip, said scornfully, " Your family,
perhaps."
Faraday Little smiled in the superiority of boyhood over
girlhood.
" I allude to the classification. That plant is the bella
donna, or deadly nightshade. Its alkaloid is a narcotic
poison."
Sauciness turned pale. " I — have— just — eaten — some ! "
And began to whimper. " O dear, what shall I do 1 " Then
did it, i. e. wrung her small fingers and cried.
"Pardon me one moment." Little passed his arm around
her neck, and with his thumb opened widely the patrician-
veined lids of her sweet blue eyes. " Thank Heaven, there
is yet no dilation of the pupil ; it is not too late ! " He cast
a rapid glance around. The nozzle and about three feet of
garden hose lay near him.
" Open your mouth, quick ! "
It was a pretty, kissable mouth. But young Little meant
business. He put the nozzle down her pink throat as far as
it would go.
" Now, don't move."
He wrapped his handkerchief around a hoop-stick. Then
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 263
he inserted both in the other end of the stiff hose. It fitted
Bimgly. He shoved it in and then drew it back.
Nature abhors a vacuum. The young patrician was as
amenable to this law as the child of the lowest peasant.
She succumbed. It was all over in a minute. Then she
burst into a small fury.
" You nasty, bad — ugly boy."
Young Little winced, but smiled.
" Stimulants," he whispered to the frightened nursery,
maid who approached ; "good evening." He was gone.
CHAPTER IV.
THE breach, between young Little and Mr. Raby was slowly
widening. Little found objectionable features in the Hall.
" This black oak ceiling and wainscoating is not as healthful
as plaster ; besides it absorbs the light. The bedroom ceiling
is too low ; the Elizabethan architects knew nothing of
ventilation. The colour of that oak panelling which you
admire is due to an excess of carbon and the exuvia from
the pores of your skin — "
"' Leave the house," bellowed Raby, " before the roof falls
on your sacrilegious head ! "
As Little left the house, Lady Caroline and a handsome
boy of about Little's age entered. Lady Caroline recoiled,
and then — blushed. Little glared ; he instinctively felt the
presence of a rival.
CHAPTER V.
LITTLE worked hard. He studied night and day. In five
years he became a lecturer, then a professor.
He soared as high as the clouds, he dipped as low as the
cellars of the London poor. He analyzed the London fog,
and found it two parts smoke, one disease, one unmentionable
264 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
abominations. He published a pamphlet, which was violently
attacked. Then he knew he had done something.
But he had not forgotten Caroline. He was walking one
day in the Zoological Gardens and he came upon a pretty
picture, — flesh and blood too.
Lady Caroline feeding buns to the bears ! An exquisite
thrill passed through his veins. She turned her sweet face
and their eyes met. They recollected their first meeting
seven years before, but it was his turn to be shy and timid.
Wonderful power of age and sex ! She met him with perfect
self-possession.
" Well meant, but indigestible I fear " — (lie alluded to the
buns).
"A clever person like yourself can easily correct that" —
(she, the slyboots, was thinking of something else).
In a few moments they were chatting gayly. Little eagerly
descanted upon the different animals ; she listened with
delicious interest. An hour glided delightfully away.
After this sunshine, clouds.
To them suddenly entered Mr. Raby and a handsome
young man. The gentlemen bowed stiffly and looked vicious, —
as they felt. The lady of this quartette smiled amiably, as
she did not feel.
" Looking at your ancestors, I suppose," said Mr. Raby,
pointing to the monkeys ; "we will not disturb you. Come."
And he led Caroline away.
Little was heart-sick. He dared not follow them. But an
hour later he saw something which filled his heart with bliss
unspeakable.
Lady Caroline, with a divine smile on her face, feeding the
monkeys !
CHAPTER VI.
ENCOURAGED by love, Little worked hard upon his new
flying-machine. His labours were lightened by talking of the
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 265
beloved one with her French maid Therese, whom be had
discreetly bribed. Mademoiselle Therese was venal, like
all her class, but in this instance I fear she was not bribed
by British gold. Strange as it may seem to the British
mind, it was British genius, British eloquence, British
thought, that brought her to the feet of this young savan.
" I believe," said Lady Caroline, one day, interrupting her
maid in a glowing eulogium upon the skill of " M. Leetell,"
— "I believe you are in love with this Professor." A quick
flush crossed the olive cheek of Therese, which Lady Caroline
afterward remembered.
The eventful day of trial came. The public were gathered,
impatient and scornful as the pig-headed public are apt to be.
In the open area a long cylindrical balloon, in shape like
a Bologna sausage, swayed above the machine, from which,
like some enormous bird caught in a net, it tried to free
itself. A heavy rope held it fast to the ground.
Little was waiting for the ballast, when his eye caught
Lady Caroline's among the spectators. The glance was
appealing. In a moment he was at her side.
" I should like so much to get into the machine," said the
arch-hypocrite, demurely.
" Are you engaged to marry young Raby," said Little,
bluntly.
" As you please," she said with a courtesy ; "do I take this
as a refusal?"
Little was a gentleman. He lifted her and her lapdoginto
the car.
" How nice ! it won't go off?"
" No, the rope is strong, and the ballast is not yet in."
A report like a pistol, a cry from the spectators, a thousand
hands stretched to grasp the parted rope, and the balloon
darted upward.
Only one hand of that thousand caught the rope, — Little's !
But in the same instant the horror-stricken spectators saw
265 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
him whirled from his feet and borne upward, still clinging td
the rope, into space.
CHAPTER VII.*
LADY CAROLINE fainted. The cold watery nose of her dog
on her cheek brought her to herself. She dared not look over
the edge of the car ; she dared not look up to the bellying
monster above her, bearing her to death. She threw herself
on the bottom of the car, and embraced the only living thing
spared her, — the poodle. Then she cried. Then a clear voice
came apparently out of the circumambient air : —
" May I trouble you to look at the barometer ? "
She put her head over the car. Little was hanging at the
end of a long rope. She put her head back again.
In another moment he saw her perplexed, blushing face
over the edge, — blissful sight.
" O, please don't think of coming up ! Stay there, do"!"
Little stayed. Of course she could make nothing out of
the barometer, and said so. Little smiled.
" Will you kindly send it down to me V1
But she had no string or cord. Finally she said, " Wait a
moment."
Little waited. This time her face did not appear. The
barometer came slowly down at the end of — a stay-lace.
The barometer showed a frightful elevation. Little looked
up at the valve and said nothing. Presently he heard a sigh.
Then a sob. Then, rather sharply,—
" Why don't you do something Vy
CHAPTER VIII.
LITTLE came up the rope hand over hand. Lady Carolir.a
* The right of dramatization of this and succeeding chapters *
reserved by the writer.
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 267
crouched in the farther side of the car. Tido, the poodle,
whined. " Poor thing," said Lady Caroline, " it's hungry."
" Do you wish to save the dog \ " said Little.
"Yes."
" Give me your parasol."
She handed Little a good-sized affair of lace and silk and
whalebone. (None of your " sun-shades.") Little exa
mined its ribs carefully.
" Give me the dog."
Lady Caroline hurriedly slipped a note under the dog's
collar, and passed over her pet.
Little tied the dog to the handle of the parasol and
launched them both into space. The next moment they
were slowly, but tranquilly, sailing to the earth.
"A parasol and a parachute are distinct, but not dif
ferent. Be not alarmed, he will get his dinner at some
farm-house."
" Where are we anr 2"
" That opaque spot you see is London fog. Those twin-
clouds are North and South America. Jerusalem and
Madagascar are those specks to the right."
Lady Caroline moved nearer; she was becoming inte
rested. Then she recalled herself and said freezingly,
" How are we going to descend ?"
" By opening the valve."
" Why don't you open it then ?"
u BECAUSE THE VALVE-STRING is BROKEN !"
CHAPTER IX.
.LADY CAROLINE fainted. When she revived it was dark.
They were apparently cleaving their way through a solid
block of black marble. She moaned and shuddered.
" I wish we had a light."
M I have HP lucifers," said Little. " I observe, however.
263 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
that you wear a necklace of amber. Amber under certain
conditions becomes highly electrical. Permit me."
He took the amber necklace and rubbed it briskly. Then
he askecl her to present her knuckle to the gem. A bright
spark was the result. This was repeated for some hours.
The light was not brilliant, but it was enough for the
purposes of propriety, and satisfied the delicately minded
girl.
Suddenly there was a tearing, hissing noise and a smell of
gas. Little looked up and turned pale. The balloon, at
what I shall call the pointed end of the Bologna sausage,
was evidently bursting from increased pressure. The gas
was escaping, and already they were beginning to descend.
Little was resigned, but firm.
" If the silk gives way, then we are lost. Unfortunately
I have no rope nor material for binding it."
The woman's instinct had arrived at the same conclusion
sooner than the man's reason. But she was hesitating over
a detail.
" Will you go down the rope for a moment ?" she said,
with a sweet smile.
Little went down. Presently she called to him. She
held something in her hand, — a wonderful invention of the
seventeenth century, improved and perfected in this : a
pyramid of sixteen circular hoops of light yet strong steel,
attached to each other by cloth bands.
With a cry of joy Little seized them, climbed to the
balloon, and fitted the elastic hoops over its conical end.
Then he returned to the car.
« We are saved."
Lady Caroline, blushing, gathered her slim but antiauo
irapery against the other end of the car.
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 269
CHAPTER X.
THEY were slowly descending. Presently Lady Caroline
distinguished the outlines of Kaby Hall. " I think I will
get out here," she said.
Little anchored the balloon and prepared to follow her.
"Not so, my friend," she said, with an arch smile.
" We must not be seen together, People might talk. Fare
well."
Little sprang again into the balloon and sped away to
America. He came down in California, oddly enough in
front of Hardin's door, at Dutch Flat. Hardin was just
examining a specimen of ore.
" You are a scientist ; you can tell me if that is worth
anything?" he said, handing it to Little.
Little held it to the light. " It contains ninety per cent,
of silver."
Hardin embraced him. " Can I do anything for you, and
why are you here 1 "
Little told his story. Hardin asked to see the rope.
Then he examined it carefully.
" Ah, this was cut, not broken !"
" With a knife 1" asked Little.
" No. Observe both sides are equally indented. It was
done with a scissors I "
" Just Heaven !" gasped Little. " Therdse !"
CHAPTER XI.
LITTLE returned to London. Passing through London one
day he met a dog-fancier. "Buy a nice poodle, sir1?"
Something in the animal attracted his attention. "Fido!"
he gasped.
The dog yelped.
Little bought him. On taking off his collar a piece of1
270 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES.
paper rustled to the floor. He knew the handwriting and
kissed it. It ran : —
" To THE HON. AUGUSTUS EABY : — I cannot marry you.
If I marry any one" (sly puss) "it will be the man who has
twice saved my life,— Professor Little.
" CAROLINE COVENTRY."
And she did.
SKETCHES.
MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL,
"\1[ 7E all knew that Mr. Thompson was looking for his
son, and a pretty bad one at that. That he was
coming to California for this sole object was no secret to his
fellow-passengers ; and the physical peculiarities, as well as
the moral weaknesses, of the missing prodigal, were made
equally plain to us through the frank volubility of the
parent.
" You was speaking of a young man which was hung
at Red Dog for sluice-robbing," said Mr. Thompson to a
steerage-passenger, one day ; " be you aware of the colour
of his eyes?"
" Black," responded the passenger.
"Ah," said Mr. Thompson, referring to some mental
memoranda, " Char-les' eyes was blue."
He then walked away. Perhaps it was from this unsym
pathetic mode of inquiry; perhaps it was from that Western
'predilection to take a humorous view of any principle or
sentiment persistently brought before them, that Mr. Thomp
son's quest was the subject of some satire among the passen
gers. A gratuitous advertisement of the missing Charley
addressed to " Jailers and Guardians," circulated privately
among them ; everybody remembered to have met Charles
under distressing circumstances. Yet it is but due to my
countrymen to state that when it was known that Thomp
son had embarked some wealth in this visionary project, but
]>,tle of this satire found its way to his ears, and nothing
v '<?« uttered in his hearing that might bring a pang to a father's
274 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL.
heart, or imperil a possible pecuniary advantage of the
satirist. Indeed, Mr. Bracey Tibbets' jocular proposition
to form a joint-stock company to "prospect" for the missing
youth, received at one time quite serious entertainment.
Perhaps to superficial criticism Mr. Thompson's nature
was not picturesque nor lovable. His history, as imparted
at dinner one day by himself, was practical even in its sin
gularity. After a hard and wilful youth and maturity — in
which he had buried a broken-spirited wife, and driven his
son to sea — he suddenly experienced religion.
"I got it in New Orleans in '59," said Mr. Thompson,
with the general suggestion of referring to an epidemic.
" Enter ye the narrer gate. Parse me the beans."
Perhaps this practical equality upheld him in his appa
rently hopeless search. He had no clew to the whereabouts
of his runaway son — indeed, scarcely a proof of his present
existence. From his indifferent recollection of the boy of
twelve, he now expected to identify the man of twenty-
five.
It would seem that he was successful. How he succeeded
was one of the few things he did not tell. There are, I be
lieve, two versions of the story. One, that Mr. Thompson,
visiting a hospital, discovered his son by reason of a peculiar
hymn, chanted by the sufferer, in a delirious dream of his
boyhood. This version, giving as it did wide range to the
finer feelings of the heart, was quite popular ; and as told
by the Eev. Mr. Gushington, on his return from his Cali
fornia tour, never failed to satisfy an audience. The other
was less simple, and as I shall adopt it here, deserves more
elaboration.
It was after Mr. Thompson had given up searching for his
son among the living, and had taken to the examination of
cemeteries, and a careful inspection of the " cold hie jacets
of the dead." At this time he was a frequent visitor of
"Lone Mountain" — a dreary hill-top, bleak enough in ite
MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL. 275
original isolation, and bleaker for the white-faced marbles
by which San Francisco anchored her departed citizens, and
kept them down in a shifting sand that refused to cover
them, and against a fierce and persistent wind that strove to
blow them utterly away. Against this wind the old man
opposed a will quite as persistent — a grizzled, hard face, and
a tall, crape-bound hat drawn tightly over his eyes — and so
spent days in reading the mortuary inscriptions audibly to
himself. The frequency of scriptural quotation pleased him,
and he was fond of corroborating them by a pocket Bible.
" That's from Psalms," he said, one day, to an adjacent
grave-digger.
The man made no reply.
Not at all rebuffed, Mr. Thompson at once slid down
into the open grave, with a more practical inquiry : " Did
you ever, in your profession, come across Char-les Thompson ?"
"Thompson be d — d," said the grave-digger, with great
directness.
" Which, if he hadn't religion, I think he is," responded
the old man, as he clambered out of the grave.
It was, perhaps, on this occasion that Mr. Thompson
stayed later than usual. As he turned his face towards the
city, lights were beginning to twinkle ahead, and a fierce
wind, made visible by fog, drove him forward, or, lying in wait,
charged him angrily from the corners of deserted suburban
streets. It was on one of these corners that something
else, quite as indistinct and malevolent, leaped upon him
with an oath, a presented pistol, and a demand for money.
/But it was met by a will of iron and a grip of steel. The
assailant and assailed rolled together on the ground. But
the next moment the old man was erect ; one hand grasp
ing the captured pistol, the other clutching at arm's length
the throat of a figure, surly, youthful, and savage.
"Young man," said Mr. Thompson, setting his thin lips
together, " what might be your name ! "
2;6 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL.
" Thompson ! "
The old man's hand slid from the throat to the arm of
his prisoner, without relaxing its firmness.
" Char-les Thompson, come with me," he said, presently,
and marched his captive to the hotel. "What took place
there has not transpired, but it was known the next morn
ing that Mr. Thompson had found -his son.
It is proper to add to the above improbable story, that
there was nothing in the young man's appearance or man
ners to justify it. Grave, reticent, and handsome, devoted
to his newly found parent, he assumed the emoluments and
responsibilities of his new condition with a certain serious
ease that more nearly approached that which San Francisco
society lacked, and — rejected. Some chose to despise this
quality as a tendency to " psalm-singing j " others saw in it
the inherited qualities of the parent, and were ready to pro
phesy for the son the same hard old age. But all agreed
that it was not inconsistent with the habits of money-getting,
for which father and son were respected.
And yet the old man did not seem to be happy. Perhaps
it was that the consummation of his wishes left him without
a practical mission \ perhaps — and it is the more probable —
lie had little love for the son he had regained. The obe
dience he exacted was freely given, the reform he had set
his heart upon was complete ; and yet, somehow, it did not
seem to please him. In reclaiming his son, he had fulfilled
all the requirements that hisreligious duty required of him,
and yet the act seemed to lack sanctificatioii. In this per
plexity he read again the parable of the Prodigal Son —
which he had long adopted for his guidance — and found that
he had omitted the final feast of reconciliation. This seemed
to offer the proper quality of ceremoniousness in the sacra
ment between himself and his son ; and so, a year after the
appearance of Charles, he set about giving him a party.
MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL. 277
"Invite everybody, Char-les," lie said, dryly; "everybody
who knows that I brought you out of the wine-husks of
iniquity, and the company of harlots ; and bid them eat,
drink, and be merry."
Perhaps the old man had another reason, not yet clearly
analyzed. The fine house he had built on the sand-hills
sometimes seemed lonely and bare. He often found himself
trying to reconstruct, from the grave features of Charles,
the little boy which he but dimly remembered in the past,
and of which lately he had been thinking a great deal.
He believed this to be a sign of impending old age and
childishness ; but coming, one day, in his formal drawing-
room, upon a child of one of the servants, who had strayed
therein, he would have taken him in his arms, but the child
fled from before his grizzled face. So that it seemed emi
nently proper to invite a number of people to his house, and,
from the array of San Francisco maidenhood, to select a
daughter-in-law. And then there would be a child — a boy,
whom he could " rare up " from the beginning, and — love
— as he did not love Charles.
We were all at the party. The Smiths, Joneses, Browns,
and Robinsons also came, in that fine flow of animal spirits,
unchecked by any respect for the entertainer, which most of
us are apt to find so fascinating. The proceedings would
/iave been somewhat riotous, but for the social position of the
actors. In fact, Mr. Bracy Tibbets, having naturally a fine
appreciation of a humorous situation, but further impelled
by the bright eyes of the Jones girls, conducted himself so
remarkably as to attract the serious regard of Mr. Charles
Thompson, who approached him, saying quietly : " You look
ill, Mr. Tibbets ; let me conduct you to your carriage. Re
sist, you hound, and I'll throw you through that window.
This way, please ; the room is close and distressing." It is
hardly necessary to say that but a part of this speech was
audible to the company, and that the rest was not divulged
278 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL.
by Mr. Tibbits, who afterwards regretted the sudden
illness which kept him from witnessing a certain amusing
incident, which the fastest Miss Jones characterized as the
" richest part of the blow-out," and which I hasten to record :
It was at supper. It was evident that Mr. Thompson had
overlooked much lawlessness in the conduct of the younger
people, in his abstract contemplation of some impending
event. When the cloth was removed, he rose to his feet,
and grimly tapped upon the table. A titter, that broke
out among the Jones girls, became epidemic on one side of
the board. Charles Thompson, from the foot of the table,
looked up in tender perplexity. " He's going to sing a
Doxology " — " He's going to pray"—" Silence for a speech,"
ran round the room.
" It's one year to-day, Christian brothers and sisters,"
said Mr. Thompson, with grim deliberation, " one year
to-day since my son came home from eating of wine-husks
and spending of his substance on harlots." (The tittering
suddenly ceased.) " Look at him now. Char-les Thompson,
stand up." (Charles Thompson stood up.) " One year ago
to-day^and look at him now."
He was certainly a handsome prodigal, standing there in
his cheerful evening-dress — a repentant prodigal, with sad,
obedient eyes turned upon' the harsh and unsympathetic
glance of his father. The youngest Miss Smith, from the
pure depths of her foolish little heart, moved unconsciously
toward him.
"It's fifteen years ago since he left my house," said
Mr. Thompson, " a rovier and a prodigal. I was myself a man
of sin, O Christian friends — a man of wrath and bitter
ness " — (" Amen," from the eldest Miss Smith) — " but, praise
be to God, I've fled the wrath to come. It's five years ago
since I got the peace that passeth understanding. Have
you got it, friends ? " (A general sub chorus of " No, no,"
from the girls, and " Pass the word for it," from Midship-
MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL. 279
man Coxe, of the U.S. sloop Wethersfield.) "Knock, audit
shall be opened to you.
"And when I found the error of my ways, and the
preciousness of grace," continued Mr. Thompson, " I came
to give it to my son. By sea and land I sought him far,
and fainted not. I did not wait for him to come to me
— which the same I might have done, and justified my
self by the Book of books, but I sought him out among his
husks, and — " (the rest of the sentence was lost in the
rustling withdrawal of the ladies). " "Works, Christian
friends, is my motto. By their works shall ye know them,
and there is mine."
The particular and accepted work to which Mr. Thompson
•was alluding had turned quite pale, and was looking fixedly
toward an open door leading to the verandah, lately filled by
gaping servants, and now the scene of some vague tumult.
As the noise continued, a man, shabbily dressed, and evi
dently in liquor, broke through the opposing guardians,
and staggered into the room. The transition from the fog
and darkness without to the glare and heat within, evidently
dazzled and stupefied him. He removed his battered hat,
and passed it once or twice before his eyes, as he steadied
himself, but unsuccessfully, by the back of a chair. Sud
denly, his wandering glance fell upon the pale face of Charles
Thompson ; and with a gleam of childlike recognition, and
a weak, falsetto laugh, he darted forward, caught at the
table, upset the glasses, and literally fell upon the prodigal's
breast.
" Sha'ly ! yo' d — d ol' scoun'rel, hoo rar ye ! "
" Hush ! — sit down ! — hush ! " said Charles Thompson,
hurriedly endeavouring to extricate himself from the em
brace of his unexpected guest.
"Look at'm ! " continued the stranger, unheeding the
admonition, but suddenly holding the unfortunate Charles
at arms' length, in loving and undisguised admiration of his
280 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL.
festive appearance. " Look at'm ! Ain't he nasty 1 Sha'ls,
I'm prow of yer ! "
" Leave the house ! " said Mr. Thompson, rising, with a
dangerous look in his cold, gray eye. Char-les, how dare you ]"
" Simmer down, ole man ! Sha'ls, who's th' ol' bloat 1
Eh 1 "
11 Hush, man ; here, take this ! " With nervous hands,
Charles Thompson filled a glass with liquor. " Drink it and
go— until to-morrow — any time, but — leave us ! — go now."
But even then, ere the miserable wretch could drink, the
old man, pale with passion, was upon him. Half carrying
him in his powerful arms, half dragging him through the
circlimg crowd of frightened guests, he had reached the door,
swung open by the waiting servants, when Charles Thompson
started from a seeming stupor, crying—-
« Stop ! "
The old man stopped. Through the open door the fog
and wind drove chilly. " What does this mean ?" he asked,
turning a baleful face on Charles.
"Nothing— but stop — for God's sake. Wait till to
morrow, but not to-night. Do not — I implore you — do
this thing."
There was something in the tone of the young man's
voice — something, perhaps, in the contact of the struggling
wretch he held in his powerful arms ; but a dim, indefinite
fear took possession of the old man's heart. " Who 1" he
whispered, hoarsely, " is this man 1"
Charles did not answer.
" Stand back, there, all of you," thundered Mr. Thompson,
to the crowding guests around him. " Char-les — come here !
I command you — I — I — I — beg you — tell me who is this
man*"
Only two persons heard the answer that came faintly from
the lips of Charles Thompson :
" YOUR SON."
MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL. 281
When the day broke over the bleak sandhills, the guests
had departed from Mr. Thompson's banquet-halls. The
lights still burned dimly and coldly in the deserted rooms —
deserted by all but three figures, that huddled together in
the chill drawing-room, as if for warmth. One lay in
drunken slumber on a couch ; at his feet sat he who had
been known as Charles Thompson ; and beside them, haggard
and shrunken to half his size, bowed the figure of Mr.
Thompson, his gray eye fixed, his elbows upon his knees,
and his hands clasped over his ears, as if to shut out th\
sad, entreating voice that seemed to fill the room.
" God knows I did not set about to wilfully deceive. The
name I gave that night was the first that came into my
thought — the name of one whom I thought dead— the dis
solute companion of my shame. And when you questioned
further, I used the knowledge that I gained from him to touch
your heart to set me free — only, I swear, for that ! But
when you told me who you were, and I first saw the opening
of another life before me — then — then. O, sir, if I was
hungry, homeless, and reckless when I would have robbed
you of your gold, I was heart-sick, helpless, and desperate
when I would have robbed you of your love."
The old man stirred not. From his luxurious couch the
newly found prodigal snored peacefully.
" I had no father I could claim. I never knew a
home but this. I was tempted. I have been happy — very
happy."
He rose and stood before the old man.
" Do not fear that I shall come between your son and
his inheritance. To-day I leave this place, never to return.
The world is large, sir, and, thanks to your kindness, I
now see the way by which an honest livelihood is gained.
Good-bye. You will not take my hand 1 Well, well. G-ood-
bye."
He turned to go. Bub when he had reached the door
282 MELONS.
he suddenly came back, and, raising with both hands the
grizzled head, he kissed it once and twice.
"Char-les."
There was no reply.
« Char-les ! "
The old man rose with a frightened air, and tottered
feebly to the door. It was open. There came to him the
awakened tumult of a great city, in which the prodigal's
footsteps were lost for ever.
MELONS.
A S I do not suppose the most gentle of readers will believe
£*• that anybody's sponsors in baptism ever wilfully as
sumed the responsibility of such a name, I may as well state
that I have reason to infer that Melons was simply the nick
name of a small boy I once knew. If he had any other, I
never knew it.
Various theories were often projected by me to account
for this strange cognomen. His head, which was covered
with a transparent down, like that which clothes very small
chickens, plainly permitting the scalp to show through, to
an imaginative mind might have suggested that succulent
vegetable. That his parents, recognising some poetical
significance in the fruits of the season, might have given this
name to an August child, was an Oriental explanation.
That from his infancy he was fond of indulging in melons,
seemed on the whole the most likely, particularly as Fancy
was not bred in McGinnis's Court. He dawned upon me as
Melons. His proximity was indicated by shrill, youthful
voices, as "Ah, Melons!" — or playfully, "Hi, Melons!"— or
authoritatively, "You, Melons !"
MELONS. 283
McGinnis's Court was a democratic expression of some
obstinate and radical property-holder. Occupying a limited
space between two fashionable thoroughfares, it refused to
conform to circumstances, but sturdily paraded its unkempt
glories, and frequently asserted itself in ungrammatical
language. My window — a rear room on the ground floor —
in this way derived blended light and shadow from the
Court. So low was the window-sill, that had I been the
least predisposed to somnambulism, it would have broken
out under such favourable auspices, and I should have
haunted McGinnis's Court. My speculations as to the origin
of the Court were not altogether gratuitous, for by means of
this window I once saw the Past, as through a glass darkly.
It was a Celtic shadow that early one morning obstructed
my ancient lights. It seemed to belong to an individual
with a pea-coat, a stubby pipe, and bristling beard. He was
gazing intently at the Court, resting on a heavy cane, some
what in the way that heroes dramatically visit the scenes of
their boyhood. As there was little of architectural beauty
in the Court, I came to the conclusion that it was McGinnis
looking after his property. The fact that he carefully kicked
a broken bottle out of the road, somewhat strengthened me
in the opinion. But he presently walked away, and the
Court knew him no more. He probably collected his rents
by proxy — if he collected them at all.
Beyond Melons, of whom all this is purely introductory,
thore was little to interest the most sanguine and hopeful
nature. In common with all such localities, a great deal of
washing was done, in comparison with the visible results. —
There was always something whisking on the line, and always
something whisking through the Court, that looked PS if it
ought to be there. A fish geranium — of all plants kept for
the recreation of mankind, certainly the greatest illusion —
straggled under the window. Through its dusty leaves I
caught the first glance of Melons.
284 MELONS.
His age was about seven. He looked older, from the
venerable whiteness of his head, and it was impossible to
conjecture his size, as he always wore clothes apparently
jDelonging to some shapely youth of nineteen. A pair of
pantaloons, that, when sustained by a single suspender, com
pletely equipped him — formed his every-day suit. How,
with this lavish superfluity of clothing, he managed to per
form the surprising gymnastic feats it has been my privilege
to witness, I have never been able to tell. His " turning
the crab," and other minor dislocations, were always attended
with success. It was not an unusual sight at any hour of
the day to find Melons suspended on a line, or to see his
venerable head appearing above the roofs of the out-houses.
Melons knew the exact height of every fence in the vicinity,
its facilities for scaling, and the possibility of seizure on the
other side. His more peaceful and quieter amusements con
sisted in dragging a disused boiler by a large string, with
hideous outcries, to imaginary fires.
Melons was not gregarious in his habits. A few youths
of his own age sometimes called upon him, but they
eventually became abusive, and their visits were more strictly
predatory incursions for old bottles and junk, which formed
the staple of McGinnis's Court. Overcome by loneliness
one day, Melons inveigled a blind harper into the Court.
For two hours did that wretched man prosecute his un
hallowed calling, unrecompensed, and going round and
round the Court, apparently under the impression that it
was some other place, while Melons surveyed him from an
adjoining fence with calm satisfaction. It was this absence
of conscientious motives that brought Melons into dis
repute with his aristocratic neighbours. Orders were issued
that no child of wealthy and pious parentage should play
with him. This mandate, as a matter of course, invested
Melons with a fascinating interest to them. Admiring
glances were cast at Melons from nursery windows. Baby
MELONS. 285
fingers beckoned to him. Invitations to tea (on wood and
pewter) were lisped to him from aristocratic back-yards. It
was evident he was looked upon as a pure and noble being,
untrammelled by the conventionalities of parentage, and
physically as well as mentally exalted above them. One
afternoon an unusual commotion prevailed in the vicinity of
McGrinnis's Court. Looking from my window, I saw Melons
perched on the roof of a stable, pulling up a rope by which one
" Tommy," an infant scion of an adjacent and wealthy house,
was suspended in mid-air. In vain the female relatives
of Tommy, congregated in the back-yard, expostulated
with Melons ; in vain the unhappy father shook his fist at
him. Secure in his position, Melons redoubled his exertions
and at last landed Tommy on the roof. Then it was that
the humiliating fact was disclosed that Tommy had been
acting in collusion with Melons. He grinned delightedly
back at his parents, as if " by merit raised to that bad
eminence. '; Long before the ladder arrived that was to
succour him, he became the sworn ally of Melons, and I
regret to say, incited by the same audacious boy, " chaffed "
his own flesh and blood below him. He was eventually taken,
though — of course — Melons escaped. But Tommy was re
stricted to the window after that, and the companionship was
limited to "Hi, Melons !" and "You Tommy!" and Melons,
to all practical purposes, lost him for ever. I looked after
ward to see some signs of sorrow on Melons' part, but in
vain ; he buried his grief, if he had any, somewhere in his
one voluminous garment.
At about this time my opportunities of knowing Melons
became more extended. I was engaged in filling a void in
the Literature of the Pacific Coast. As this void was a
pretty large one, and as I was informed that the Pacific
Coast languished under it, I set apart two hours each day
to this work of filling in. It was necessary that I should
adopt a methodical system, so I retired from the world and
236 MELONS.
locked myself in my room at a certain hour each day, after
coming from my office. I then carefully drew out my
portfolio and read what I had written the day before. This
would suggest some alteration, and I would carefully re-write
it. During this operation I would turn to consult a book
of reference, which invariably proved extremely interesting
and attractive. It would generally suggest another and
better method of "filling in." Turning this method over
reflectively in my mind, I would finally commence the new
method, which I eventually abandoned for the original plan.
At this time I would become convinced that my exhausted
faculties demanded a cigar. The operation of lighting a cigar
usually suggested that a little quiet reflection and meditation
would be of service to me, and I always allowed myself to
be guided by prudential instincts. Eventually, seated by
my window, as before stated, Melons asserted himself.
Though our conversation rarely went further than " Hello,
Mister ! " and " Ah, Melons ! " a vagabond instinct we felt
in common, implied a communion deeper than words. In
this spiritual commingling the time passed, often beguiled by
gymnastics on the fence or line (always with an eye to my
window) until dinner was announced, and I found a more
practical void required my attention. An unlooked-for
incident drew us in closer relation.
A sea-faring friend just from a tropical voyage had pre
sented me with a bunch of bananas. They were not quite
ripe, and I hung them before my window to mature in the
sun of McGinnis's Court, whose forcing qualities were
remarkable. In the mysteriously mingled odours of ship
and shore which they diffused throughout my room, there
was a lingering reminiscence of low latitudes. But even
that joy was fleeting and evanescent : they never reached
maturity.
Coming home one day as I turned the corner of that
fashionable thoroughfare before alluded to, I met a small boy
MELONS. 287
eating a banana. There was nothing remarkable in
but as I neared McGinnis's Court I presently met anothet
small boy, also eating a banana. A third small boy en«
gaged in a like occupation obtruded a painful coincidence
upon my mind. I leave the psychological reader to deter
mine the exact co-relation between this circumstance and
the sickening sense of loss that overcame me on witnessing
it. I reached my room — and found the bunch of bananas
were gone.
There was but one who knew of their existence, but one
who frequented my window, but one capable of the gymnastic
effort to procure them, and that was — I blush to say it —
Melons. Melons the depredator — Melons, despoiled by
larger boys of his ill-gotten booty, or reckless and indiscreetly
liberal ; Melons — now a fugitive on some neighbouring
house-top. I lit a cigar, and drawing my chair to the
window, sought surcease of sorrow in the contemplation of
the fish geranium. In a few moments something white
passed my window at about the level of the edge. There
was no mistaking that hoary head, which now represented
to me only aged iniquity. It was Melons, that venerable,
juvenile hypocrite.
He affected not to observe me, and would have withdrawn
quietly, but that horrible fascination which causes the
murderer to revisit the scene of his crime, impelled him
toward my window. I smoked calmly and gazed at him
without speaking. He walked several times up and down
the Court with a half rigid, half belligerent expression of
eye and shoulder, intended to represent the carelessness of
innocence.
Once or twice he stopped, and putting his arms their whole
length into his capacious trowsers, gazed with some interest
at the additional Avidth they thus acquired. Then he whistled.
The singular conflicting conditions of John Brown's body
and soul were at that time beginning to attract the attention
2?3 MELONS.
of youth, and Melons' performance of that melody was always
remarkable. But to-day he whistled falsely and shrilly between
his teeth. At last he met my eye. He winced slightly, but
recovered himself, and going to the fence, stood for a few
moments on his hands, with his bare feet quivering in the air.
Then he turned toward me and threw out a conversational
preliminary.
" They is a cirkis," — said Melons gravely, hanging with
his back to the fence and his arms twisted round the palings
— " a cirkis over yonder !" — indicating the locality with his
foot — " with hosses, and hossback riders. They is a man wot
rides six hosses to onct — six hosses to onct — and nary saddle"
• — and he paused in expectation.
Even this equestrian novelty did not affect me. I still kept
a fixed gaze on Melons' eye, and he began to tremble and
visibly shrink in his capacious garment. Some other desperate
means — conversion with Melons was always a desperate
means — must be resorted to. He recommenced more art
fully :
" Do you know Carrots ?"
I had a faint remembrance of a boy of that euphonious
name, with scarlet hair, who was a playmate and persecutor
of Melons. But I said nothing.
" Carrots is a bad boy. Killed a policeman onct. Wears
a dirk knife in his boots, and saw him to-day looking in
your windy."
I felt that this must end here. I rose sternly and addressed
Melons.
" Melons, this is all irrelevant and impertinent to the
case. You took those bananas. Your proposition regarding
Carrots, even if I were inclined to accept it as credible infor
mation, does not alter the material issue. You took those
bananas. The offence under the statutes of California is
felony. How far Carrots may have been accessory to the
fact either before or after, is not my intention at present to
MELONS. 289
discuss. The act; is complete. Your present conduct shows
the animo furandi to have been equally clear."
By the time I had finished this exordium, Melons had
disappeared, as I fully expected.
He never re-appeared. The remorse that I have experienced
for the part I had taken iii what I fear may have resulted in
his utter and complete extermination, alas ! he may not know,
oxcept through these pages. For I have never seen him since.
Whether he ran away and went to sea to re-appear at some
future clay as the most ancient of mariners, or whether he
buried himself completely in his trousers, I never shall know.
I have read the papers anxiously for accounts of him.
I have gone to the Police Office in the vain attempt of
identifying him as a lost child. But I never saw or heard of
him since. Strange fears have sometimes crossed my mind
that his venerable appearance may have been actually the
result of senility, and that he may have been gathered peace
fully to his fathers in a green old age. I have even had
doubts of his existence, and have sometimes thought that
he was providentially and mysteriously offered to fill the void
I have before alluded to. In that hope I have written these
pages.
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
n^HE latch on the garden gate of the Folinsbee Ranch
clicked twice. The gate itself was so much in shadow
that lovely night, that " old man Folinsbee," sitting on his
porch, could distinguish nothing but a tall white hat and
beside it a few fluttering ribbons, under the pines that marked
the entrance. Whether because of this fact, or that he con
sidered a sufficient time had elapsed since the clicking of the
latch for more positive disclosure, I do not know \ but after
a few moments' hesitation he quietly laid aside his pipe and
u
290 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
walked slowly down the winding path toward the gate. A t
the Ceanothus hedge he stopped and listened.
There was not much to hear. The hat was saying to the
ribbons that it was a fine night, and remarking generally
upon the clear outline of the Sierras against the blue-black
sky. The ribbons, it so appeared, had admired this all the
way home, and asked the hat if it had ever seen anything half
%o lovely as the moonlight on the summit 1 The hat never
had ; it recalled some lovely nights in the South in Alabama
(" in the South in Ahlabahm " was the way the old man
heard it), but then there were other things that made this
night seem so pleasant. The ribbons could not possibly con^
ceive what the hat could be thinking about. At this point
there was a pause, of which Mr. Folinsbee availed himself to
walk very grimly and craunchingly down the gravel walk
toward the gate. Then the hat was lifted, and disappeared
in the shadow, and Mr. Folinsbee confronted only the half-
foolish, half-mischievous, but wholly pretty face of his
daughter.
It was afterwards known to Madrono Hollow that sharp
words passed between " Misu Jo" and the old man, and
that the latter coupled the names of one Culpepper Starbottle
and his uncle, Colonel Starbottle, with certain uncom
plimentary epithets, and that Miss Jo retaliated sharply.
" Her father's blood before her father's face boiled up acd
proved her truly of his race," quoted the blacksmith, who
leaned toward the noble verse of Byron. " She saw the old
man's bluff and raised him," was the director comment of
the college-bred Masters.
Meanwhile the subject of these animadversions proceeded
slowly along the road to a point where the Folinsbee mansion
came in view, — a long, narrow, white building, unpreten
tious, yet superior to its neighbours, and bearing some evi
dences of taste and refinement in the vines that clambered
over its porch, in its French windows, and the white muslin
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. 291
curtains that kept out the fierce California sun by day, and
were now touched with silver in the gracious moonlight,
Culpepper leaned against the low fence, and gazed long and
earnestly at the building. Then the moonlight vanished
ghost-like from one of the windows, a material glow took its
place, and a girlish figure, holding a candle, drew the white
curtains together. To Culpepper it was a vestal virgin
standing before a hallowed shrine ; to the prosaic observer,
I fear it was only a fair-haired young woman, whose wicked
black eyes still shone with imfilial warmth. Howbeit, when
the figure had disappeared he stepped out briskly into tha
moonlight of the high road, Here he took off his distinguish
ing hat to wipe his forehead, and the moon shone full upon
his face,
It was not an unprepossessing one, albeit a trifle too thin
and lank and bilious to be altogether pleasant. The cheekbones
were prominent, and the black e}res sunken in their orbits.
Straight black hair fell slantwise off a high but narrow fore
head, and swept part of a hollow cheek. A long black mus
tache followed the perpendicular curves of his mouth. It
was on the whole a serious, even Quixotic face, but at times
it was relieved by a rare smile of such tender and even
pathetic sweetness, that Miss Jo is reported to have said
that, if it would only last through the ceremony, she would
have married its possessor on the spot. " I once told him
so," added that shameless young woman ; " but the man
instantly fell into a settled melancholy, and hasn't smiled
since."
A half-mile below the Folinsbee Ranch the white road
dipped and was crossed by a trail that ran through Madrono
Hollow. Perhaps because it was a near cut-off to the settle
ment, perhaps from some less practical reason, Culpepper
took this trail, and in a few moments stood among the rarely
beautiful trees that gave their name to the valley. Even in
that uncertain light the weird beauty of these harlequin
J92 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
masqueraders was apparent ; their red trunks — a blush, in
the moonlight, a deep blood-stain in the shadow— stood out
against the silvery green foliage. It was as if Nature in
some gracious moment had here caught and crystallized the
gypsy memories of the transplanted Spaniard, to cheer him
in his lonely exile.
As Culpepper entered the grove he heard loud voices. As
he turned toward a clump of trees, a figure so bizarre and
characteristic that it might have been a resident Daphne, — a
figure over-dressed in crimson silk and lace, with bare brown
arms and shoulders, and a wreath of honeysuckle, — stepped
out of the shadow. It was followed by a man. Culpepper
started. To come to the point briefly, he recognized in the
man the features of his respected uncle, Colonel Starbottle ;
in the female, a lady who may be briefly described as one
possessing absolutely no claim to an introduction to the
polite reader. To hurry over equally unpleasant details,
both were evidently under the influence of liquor,
From the excited conversation that ensued, Culpepper
gathered that some insult had been put upon the lady at a
public ball which she had attended that evening ; that the
Colonel, her escort, had failed to resent it with the sangui
nary completeness that she desired. I regret that, even in a
liberal age, I may not record the exact and even picturesque
language in which this was conveyed to her hearers.
Enough that at the close of a fiery peroration, with feminine
inconsistency she flew at the gallant Colonel, arid would
have visited her delayed vengeance upon his luckless head,
but for the prompt interference of Culpepper. Thwarted
in this, she threw herself upon the ground, and then into
un picturesque hysterics. There was a fine moral lesson, not
only in this grotesque performance of her sex which cannot
afford to be grotesque, but in the ludicrous concern with
which it inspired the two men. Culpepper, to whom women
was more or less angelic, was pained and sympathetic ; the
THE ROMANCE Of MADRONO HOLLOW. 29?
Colonel, to whom she was more or less improper, was es
ceedingly terrified and embarrassed. Howbeifc the storn;
was soon over, and after Mistress Dolores had returned £
little dagger to its sheath (her garter), she quietly took her
self out of Madrono Hollow, and happily out of these pages
for ever. The two men, left to themselves, conversed in low
tones. Dawn stole upon them before they separated : the
Colonel quite sobered and in full possession of his usual
jaunty self-assertion ; Culpepper with a baleful glow in his
hollow cheek, and in his dark eyes a rising fire.
The next morning the general ear of Madrono Hollow
was filled with rumours of the Colonel's mishap. It was
asserted that lie had been invited to withdraw his female
companion from the floor of the Assembly Ball at the Inde«
pendence Hotel, and that failing to do this both were ex
pelled. It is to be regretted that in 185-4 public opinion was
divided in regard to the propriety of this step, and that there
was some discussion as to the comparative virtue of the
ladies who were not expelled, but it was generally conceded
that the real casus belli was political. " Is this a dashed
Puritan meeting T' had asked the Colonel, savagely. "It's
no Pike County shindig," had responded the floor manager,,
cheerfully. "You're a Yank !" had screamed the Colonel,
profanely qualifying the noun. "Get ! you border ruffian,"
was the reply. Such at least was the substance of the re
port. As, at that sincere epoch, expressions like the above
were usually followed by prompt action, a fracas was con
fidently looked for.
Nothing, however, occurred. Colonel Starbottle made his
appearance next day upon the streets with somewhat of his
usual pomposity, a little restrained by the presence of his
nephew, who accompanied him, and who, as a universal
favourite, also exercised some restraint upon the curious and
impertinent. But Culpepper's face wore a look of anxiety
294 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
quite at variance with his usual grave repose. "The
Don don't seem to take the old man's set-back kindly,"
observed the sympathizing blacksmith. "PYaps he was
sweet on Dolores himself," suggested the sceptical ex
pressman.
It was a bright morning, a week after this occurrence,
that Miss Jo Folinsbee stepped from her garden into the
road. This time the latch did not click as she cautiously
closed the gate behind her. After a moment's irresolution,
which would have been awkward but that it was charmingly
employed, after the manner of her sex, in adjusting a bow
under a dimpled but rather prominent chin, and in pulling
down the fingers of a neatly fitting glove, she tripped towards
the settlement. Small wonder that a passing teamster drove
his six mules into the wayside ditch and imperilled his load,
to keep the dust from her spotless garments ; small wonder
that the " Lightning Express " withheld its speed and flash
to let her pass, and that the expressman, who had never
been known to exchange more than rapid monosyllables with
his fellow-man, gazed after her with breathless admiration.
For she was certainly attractive. In a country where the
ornamental sex followed the example of youthful Nature,
and were prone to overdress and glaring efflorescence, Miss
Jo's simple and tasteful raiment added much to the physical
charm of, if it did not actually suggest a sentiment to, her
presence. It is said that Euchrecleck Billy, working in the
gulch at the crossing, never saw Miss Folinsbee pass but that
he always remarked apologetically to his partner, that " he
believed he must write a letter home." Even Bill Masters,
who saw her in Paris presented to the favourable criticism
of that most fastidious man the late Emperor, said that she
was stunning, but a big discount on what she was at Ma
drono Hollow.
It was still early morning, but the sun, with California
extravagance, had already begun to beat hotly on the little
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. 295
chip hat and blue ribbons, and Miss Jo was obliged to seek
the shade of a by-path. Here she received the timid
advances of a vagabond yellow dog graciously, until, em
boldened by his success, he insisted upon accompanying her,
and, becoming slobberingly demonstrative, threatened her
spotless skirt with his dusty paws, when she drove him from
her with some slight acerbity, and a stone which haply fell
within fifty feet of its destined mark. Having thus proved
her ability to defend herself, with characteristic inconsistency
she took a small panic, and, gathering her white skirts in
one hand, and holding the brim of her hat over her eyes
with the other, she ran swiftly at least a hundred yards
before she stopped. Then she began picking some ferns, and
a few wild-flowers still spared to the withered fields, and
then a sudden distrust of her small ankles seized her, and
she inspected them narrowly for those burrs and bugs and
snakes which are supposed to lie in wait for helpless woman
hood. Then she plucked some golden heads of wild oats,
and with a sudden inspiration placed them in her black hair,
and then came quite unconsciously upon the trail leading
to Madrono Hollow.
Here she hesitated. Before her ran the little trail, vanish
ing at last into the bosky depths below. The sun was very
hot. She must be very far from home. Why should she
not rest awhile under the shade of a madrono 1
She answered these questions by going there at once.
After thoroughly exploring the grove, and satisfying herself
that it contained no other living human creature, she sat
down under one of the largest trees, with a satisfactory
little sigh. Miss Jo loved the madrono. It was a cleanly
tree ; no dust ever lay upon its varnished leaves ; - its
immaculate shade never was known to harbour grub or
insect.
She looked up at the rosy arms interlocked and arched
above her head. She looked dowu at the delicate ferns and
296 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
cryptogams at her feet. Something glittered at the roct
of the tree. She picked it up ; it was a bracelet. She
examined it carefully for cipher or inscription ; there was
none. She could not resist a natural desire to clasp it on
her arm, and to survey it from that advantageous view
point. This absorbed her attention for some moments ; and
when she looked up again she beheld at a little distance
Culpepper Starbottle.
He was standing where he had halted, with instinctive
delicacy, on first discovering her. Indeed, he had even
deliberated whether he ought not to go away without dis
turbing her. But some fascination held him to the spot.
Wonderful power of humanity ! Far beyond jutted an
outlying spur of the Sierra, vast, compact, and silent.
Scarcely a hundred yards away a league-long chasm dropped
its sheer walls of granite a thousand feet. On every side
rose up the serried ranks of pine trees, in whose close-set
files centuries of storm and change had wrought no breach.
Yet all this seemed to Culpepper to have been planned by
an all-wise Providence as the natural background to the
figure of a pretty girl in a yellow dress.
Although Miss Jo had confidently expected to meet
Culpepper somewhere in her ramble, now that he came upon
her suddenly, she felt disappointed and embarrassed. His
manner, too, was more than usually grave and serious, and
more than ever seemed to jar upon that audacious levity which
was this giddy girl's power and security in a society where
all feeling was dangerous. As he approached her she rose
to her feet, but almost before she knew it he had taken
her hand and drawn her to a seat beside him. This
was not what Miss Jo had expected, but nothing is so
difficult to predicate as the exact preliminaries of a declara
tion of love.
What did Culpepper say 1 Nothing, I fear, that will add
anything to the wisdom of the reader ; nothing, I fear, that
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. 297
Miss Jo had not heard substantially from other lips before.
But there was a certain conviction, fire-speed, and fury in
the manner that was deliciously novel to the young lady.
It was certainly something to be courted in the nineteenth
century with all the passion and extravagance of the six
teenth ; it was something to hear, amid the slang of a
frontier society, the language of kni gob-errantry poured
into her ear by this lantern-jawed, dark-browed descendant
of the Cavaliers.
I do not know that there was anything more in it. The
facts, however, go to show that at a certain point Miss Jo
dropped her glove, and that in recovering it Culpepper pos
sessed himself, first of her hand and then her lips. When
they stood up to go Culpepper had his arm around her
waist, and her black hair, with its sheaf of golden oats,
rested against the breast-pocket of his coat. But even then
I do not think her fancy was entirely captive. She took a
certain satisfaction in this demonstration of Culpepper's
splendid height, and mentally compared it with a former
flame, one Lieutenant McMirk, an active, but under-sized
Hector, who subsequently fell a victim to the incautiously
composed and monotonous beverages of a frontier garrison.
Nor was she so much pre-occupied, but that her quick eyes,
even while absorbing Culpepper's glances, were yet able to
detect, at a distance, the figure of a man approaching. In
an instant she slipped out of Culpepper's arm, and whipping
her hands behind her, said, " There 's that horrid man !"
Culpepper looked up, and beheld his respected uncle
panting and blowing over the hill. His brow contracted as
he turned to Miss Jo : " You don't like my uncle 1 "
"I hate him!" Miss Jo was recovering her ready
tongue.
Culpepper blushed. He would have liked to enter upon
some details of the Colonel's pedigree and exploits, but
there was not time. He only smiled sadly. The smile
298 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
melted Miss Jo. She held out her hand quickly, and said,
with even more than her usual effrontery, " Don't let that
man get you into any trouble. Take care of yourself, dear,
and don't let anything happen to you."
Miss Jo intended this speech to be pathetic ; the tenure
of life among her lovers had hitherto been very uncertain.
Culpepper turned toward her, but she had already vanished
in the thicket.
The Colonel came up panting. "I've looked all over
town for you, and be dashed to you, sir. Who was that
with you ? "
"A lady." (Culpepper never lied, but he was discreet.)
" D — m 'em all ! Look yar, Gulp, I've spotted the man
who gave the order to put me off the floor " (" flo " was what
the Colonel said) " the other night ! "
" Who was it 1 " asked Culpepper, listlessly.
"JackFolinsbee."
"Who?"
" Why, the son of that dashed nigger- worshipping, psalm-
singing Puritan Yankee. What's the matter, now ! Look
yar, Culp, you ain't goin' back on your blood, ar'ye ] You
ain't goin' back on your word 1 Ye ain't going down at the
feet of this trash, like a whipped hound ! "
Culpepper was silent. He was very white. Presently
he looked up and said quietly, "No.'
Culpepper Starbottle had challenged Jack Folinsbee, and
the challenge was accepted. The cause alleged was the
expelling of Culpepper's uncle from the floor of the Assembly
Ball by the order of Folinsbee. This much Madrono Hollow
knew and could swear to ; but there were other strange
rumours afloat, of which the blacksmith was an able ex
pounder. "You see, gentlemen," he said to the crowd
gathering round his anvil, " I ain't got no theory of this
affair, I only give a few facts as have come to my knowledge.
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. 299
Oulpepper and Jack meets quite accidentally like in Bob's
saloon. Jack goes up to Culpepper and says, ' A word with
you.' Culpepper bows and steps aside in this way, Jack
standing about here" (The blacksmith demonstrates the
position of the parties with two old horseshoes on the anvil.)
" Jack pulls a bracelet from his pocket and says, ' Do you
know that bracelet 1 ' Culpepper says, ' I do not,' quite
cool-like and easy. Jack says, * You gave it to my sister.'
Culpepper says, still cool as you please, 'I did not.' Jack
says, * You lie, G — d d — mn you,' and draws his derringer.
Culpepper jumps forward about here" (reference is made
to the diagram) "and Jack fires. Nobody hit. It's a
mighty cur'o's thing, gentlemen," continued the blacksmith,
dropping suddenly into the abstract, and leaning meditatively
on his anvil, — " it's a mighty cur'o's thing that nobody gets
hit so often. You and me empties our revolvers sociably at
each other over a little game, and the room full, and nobody
gets hit ! That's what gets me."
" Never mind, Thompson," chimed in Bill Masters, "there's
another and a better world where we shall know all that
and — become better shots. Go on with your story."
" Well, some grabs Culpepper and some grabs Jack, and
so separates them. Then Jack tells 'em as how he had seen
his sister wear a bracelet which he knew was one that had
been given to Dolores by Colonel Starbottle. That Miss Jo
wouldn't say where she got it, but owned up to having seen
Culpepper that day. Then the most cur'o's thing of it yet,
what does Culpepper do but rise up and takes all back that
he said, and allows that he did give her the bracelet. Now,
my opinion, gentlemen, is that he lied ; it ain't like that
man to give a gal that he respects anything off of that piece
Dolores. But it's all the same now, and there's but one
thing to be done."
The way this one thing was done belongs to the record of
Madrono Hollow. The morning was bright and clear; the
300 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW.
air was slightly chill, but that was from the mist which
arose along the banks of the river. As early as six o'clock
the designated ground — a little opening in the madrono
grove — was occupied by Culpepper Starbottle, Colonel Star-
bottle, his second, and the surgeon. The Colonel was exalted
and excited, albeit in a rather imposing, dignified way, and
pointed out to the surgeon the excellence of the ground,
which at that hour was wholly shaded from the sun, whose
steady stare is more or less discomposing to your duellist.
The surgeon threw himself on. the grass and smoked his
cigar. Culpepper quiet and thoughtful, leaned against a
tree and gazed up the river. There was a strange suggestion
of a picnic about the group, which was heightened when the
Colonel drew a bottle from his coat-tails, and, taking a
preliminary draught, offered it to the others. " Cocktails,
sir," he explained with dignified precision. "A gentleman,
sir, should never go out without 'em. Keeps off the morning
chill. I remember going out in '53 with Hank Boompirater.
Good ged, dr, the man had to put on his overcoat, and was
shot in it. Fact."
But the noise of wheels drowned the Colonel's reminis
cences, and a rapidly driven buggy, containing Jack Folins-
bee, Calhoun Bungstarter, his second, and Bill Masters drew
up on the ground. Jack Folinsbee leaped out gaily. " I
had the j oiliest work to get away without the governor's
hearing," he began, addressing the group before him with
the greatest volubility. Calhoun Bungstarter touched
his arm, and the young man blushed. It was his first
duel.
" If you are ready, gentlemen," said Mr. Bungstarter,
" we had better proceed to business. I believe it is under
stood that no apology will be offered or accepted. We may
as well settle preliminaries at once, or I fear we shall be
interrupted. There is a rumour in town that the Vigilance
Committee are seeking ow friends the Starbottles, and I
THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. 301
believe, as their fellow-countryman, I have the honour to be
included in their warrant."
At this probability of interruption, that gravity which
had hitherto been wanting fell upon the group. The pre
liminaries were soon arranged and the principals placed in
position. Then there was a silence.
To a spectator from the hill, impressed ,with the picnic
suggestion, what might have been the popping of two
champagne corks broke the stillness.
Culpepper had fired in the air. Colonal Starbottle tittered
a low curse. Jack Folinsbee sulkily demanded another shot.
Again the parties stood opposed to each other. Again
the word was given, and what seemed to be the simul
taneous report of both pistols rose upon the air. But after
an interval of a few seconds all were surprised to see
Culpepper slowly raise his unexploded weapon and fire it
harmlessly above his head. Then throwing the pistol
upon the ground, he walked to a tree and leaned silently
against it.
Jack Folinsbee flew into a paroxysm of fury. Colonel
Starbottle raved and swore. Mr. Bungstarter was properly
shocked a,t their conduct. " Really, gentlemen, if Mr. Cul
pepper Starbottle declines another shot, I do not see how we
can proceed."
But the Colonel's blood was up, and Jack Folinsbee was
equally implacable. A hurried consultation ensued, which
ended by Colonel Starbottle taking his nephew's place as
principal, Bill Masters acting as second, vice Mr. Bung-
starter, who declined all further connection with the affair.
Two distinct reports rang through, the Hollow. Jack
Folinsbee dropped his smoking pistol, took a step forward,
and then dropped heavily upon his face.
In a moment the surgeon was at his side. The confusion
v^as heightened by the trampling of hoofs, and the voice of
the blacksmith bidding them flee for their lives before the
302 A NIGHT AT WINGDAM.
coming storm. A moment more, and the ground was
cleared, and the surgeon looking up, beheld only the white
face of Culpepper bending over him.
" Can you save him 1 "
" I cannot say. Hold up his head a moment, while I run
to the buggy."
Culpepper passed his arm tenderly around the neck of the
insensible man. Presently the surgeon returned with some
stimulants.
" There, that will do, Mr. Starbottle, thank you. Now
my advice is to get away from here while you can. I'll look
after Folinsbee. Do you hear ? "
Culpepper 's arm was still round the neck of his late foe,
but his head had drooped and fallen on the wounded man's
shoulder. The surgeon looked down, and catching sight of
his face, stooped and lifted him gently in his arms. He
opened his coat and waistcoat. There was blood upon his
shirt, and a bullet-hole in his breast. He had been shot unto
death at the first fire.
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM.
F HAD been stage-ridden and bewildered all day, and when
we swept down with the darkness into the Arcadian
hamlet of " Wingdam," I resolved to go no further, and
rolled out in a gloomy and dyspeptic state. The effects of a
mysterious pie, and some sweetened carbonic acid known to
the proprietor of the " Half- Way House " as " lemming
Body " still oppressed me. Even the facetiae of the gallant
expressman who knew everybody's Christian name along the
route, who rained letters, newspapers and bundles from the
top of the stage, whose legs frequently appeared in frightful
proximity to the wheels, who got on and off while we were
going at full speed, whose gallantry, energy, and superiol
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. 303
knowledge of travel crushed all us other passengers to en
vious silence, and who just then was talking with several
persons arid manifestly doing something else at the same timo
— even this had failed to interest me. So I stood gloomily,
clutching my shawl and carpet bag, and watched the stage
roll away, taking a parting look at the gallant expressman
as he hung on the top rail with one leg, and lit his cigar
from the pipe of a running footman. I then turned to
ward the Wingdam Temperance Hotel.
It may have been the weather, or it may have been the
pie, bnt T was not impressed favourably with the house,
Perhaps it was the name extending the whole length of
the building, with a letter under each window, making the
people who looked out cfreadfully conspicuous. Perhaps it
was that " Temperance " always suggested to my mind rusks
and weak tea. It was uninviting. It might have been
called the " Total Abstinence " Hotel, from the lack of any
thing to intoxicate or enthrall the senses. It was designed
with an eye to artistic dreariness. It was so much too
large for the settlement, that it appeared to be a very slight
improvement on out-doors. It was unpleasantly new. There
was the forest flavour of dampness about it, and a slight
spicing of pine. Nature outraged, but not entirely subdued,
sometimes broke out afresh in little round, sticky, resinous
tears on the doors and windows. It seemed to me that
boarding there must seem like a perpetual picnic. As I
entered the door, a number of the regular boarders rushed
out of a long room, and set about trying to get the taste of
something out of their mouths, by the application of tobacco
in various forms. A few immediately ranged themselves
around the fire-place, with their legs over each other's chairs,
and in that position silently resigned themselves to indi
gestion. Remembering the pie, I waived the invitation of
the landlord to supper, but suffered myself to be conflicted
into the sitting-room. " Mine host " was a magnificent
304 A NIGHT AT WINGDAM.
looking, heavily bearded specimen of the animal man. He-
reminded me of somebody or something connected with the
drama. I was sitting beside the fire, mutely wondering what
it could be, and trying to follow the particular chord of
memory thus touched, into the intricate past, when a little
delicate-looking woman appeared at the door, and leaning
heavily against the casing, said in an exhausted tone,
" Husband ! " As the landlord turned toward her, that
particular remembrance flashed before me, in a single line of
blank verse. It was this : " Two souls with but one single
thought, two hearts that beat as one."
It was Ingomar and Parthenia his wife. I imagined a
different denouement from the play. Ingomar had taken
Parthenia back to the mountains, and kept a hotel for the
benefit of the Alemaimi, who resorted there in large num1-
bers. Poor Parthenia was pretty well fagged out, and did all
the work without " help." She had two "young barbarians,"
a boy and a girl. She was faded — but still good looking.
I sat and talked with Ingomar, who seemed perfectly pt
home and told me several stories of the Alemanni, all
bearing a strong flavour of the wilderness, and being per
fectly in keeping with the house. How he, Ingomar, had
killed a certain dreadful " bar," whose skin was just up "yar,"
over his bed. How he, Ingomar, had killed several "bucks,"
whose skins had been prettily fringed and embroidered by
Parthenia, and even now clothed him. How he, Ingomar,
had killed several "Injins," and was once nearly scalped
himself. All this with that ingenious candour which is per
fectly justifiable in a barbarian, but which a Greek might
feel inclined to look upon as " blowing." Thinking of the
wearied Parthenia, I began to consider for the first time
that perhaps she had better married the old Greek. Then
she would at least have always looked neat. Then she would
not have worn a woollen dress flavoured with all the dinners
of the past year. Then she would not have been obliged to
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. *cr
wait on the table with her hair half down. Then the two
children would not have hung about her skirts with dirty-
fingers, palpably dragging her down day by day. T suppose
it was the pie which put such heartless and improper ideas
in my head, and so I rose up and told Ingomar I believed
I'd go to bed. Preceded by that redoubtable barbarian and
a flaring tallow candle, I followed him up-stairs to my room.
It was the only single room he had, he told me ; he had
built it for the convenience of married parties who might
stop here, but that event not happening yet, he had left it
half furnished. It had cloth on one side, and large cracks
on the other. The wind, which always swept over Wing-
dam at night time, puffed through the apartment from
different apertures. The window was too small for the hole
in the side of the house where it hung, and rattled noisily.
Everything looked cheerless and dispiriting. Before Ingo
mar left me, he brought that " bar-skin," and throwing it
over the solemn bier which stood in one corner, told me he
reckoned that would keep me warm, and then bade me good
night. I undressed myself, the light blowing out in the
middle of that ceremony, crawled under the " bar-skin,"
and tried to compose myself to sleep.
But I was staringly wide awake. I heard the wind sweep
down the mountain side, and toss the branches of the
melancholy pine, and then enter the house, and try all the
doors along the passage. Sometimes strong currents of air
blew my hair all over the pillow, as with strange whispering
breaths. The green timber along the walls seemed to be
sprouting, and sent a dampness even through the "bar-
skin." I felt like Robinson Crusoe in his tree, with the
ladder pulled up — or like the rocked baby of the nursery
song. After lying awake half-an-hour, I regretted having
stopped at " Wiiigdam j" at the end of the third quarter, I
•wished I had not gone to bed, and when a restless hour
passed, I got up and dressed myseK There had been a fire
306 A NIGHT AT WINGDAM.
clown in the big room. Perhaps it was still burning. 1
opened the door and groped my way along a passage, vocai
with the. snores of the Aleinaimi and the whistling of the
night wind ; I partly fell down-stairs, and at last entering
the big room, saw the lire still burning. I drew a chair
toward it, poked it with my foot, and was astonished to see,
by the up-springing flash, that Parthenia was sitting there
also, holding a faded-looking baby.
I asked her why she was sitting up ?
She did not go to bed on Wednesday night, before the
mail arrived, and then she awoke her husband, and there
were passengers to 'tend to.
" Did she not get tired, sometimes ? "
" A little, but Abner " — the Barbarian's Christian name
— " had promised to get her more help next spring, if
business was good."
" How many boarders had she 1 "
"She believed about forty came to regular meals, and
there was transient custom, which was as much as she and
her husband could 'tend to. But he did a great deal of
work."
"What work?"
" Oh ! bringing in the wood, and looking after the traders'
things."
" How long had she been married 1M
" About nine years. She had lost a little girl and boy.
Three children living. He was from Illinois; she from
Boston. Had an education (Boston Female High School — •
Geometry, Algebra, a little Latin and Greek). Mother and
father died. Came to Illinois alone to teach school. Saw
him — yes — a love match (' Two souls,' etc., etc.) Married
and emigrated to Kansas. Thence across the Plains to
California. Always on the outskirts of civilization. He
liked it."
" She might sometimes have wished to go home. Would
A NIGHT AT W1NGDAM. 307
like to, on account of her children. Would like to give
them an education. Had taught them a little herself, but
couldn't do much on account of other work. Hoped that the
boy would be like his father — strong and hearty. Was
fearful the girl would be more like her. Had often thought
bhe was not fit for a pioneer's wife."
« Why 1 "
" Oh, she was not strong enough, and had seen some of his
friends' wives in Kansas who could do more work. But he
never complained — he was so kind " — (" Two souls," etc.)
Sitting there with her head leaning pensively on one
hand, holding the poor, wearied and limp looking baby
wearily on the other arm — dirty, drabbled and forlorn, with
the fire-light playing upon her features no longer fresh or
young, but still refined and delicate, and even in her
grotesque slovenliness still bearing a faint reminiscence of
birth and breeding, it was not to be wondered that I did not
fall into excessive raptures over the barbarian's kindness.
Emboldened by my sympathy, she told me how she had
giyen up, little by little, what she imagined to be the weak
ness of her early education, until she found that she acquired
but little strength in her new experience. How, translated
to a back-woods society, she was hated by the women, and
called proud and "fine," and how her dear husband lost
popularity on that account with his fellows. How, led
partly by his roving instincts, and partly from other circum
stances, he started with her to California. An account of
that tedious journey. How it was a dreary, dreary waste in
her memory, only a blank plain marked by a little cairn of
stones — a child's grave. How she had noticed that little
Willie failed. How she had called Abner's attention to it,
but, man-like, he knew nothing about children, and pooh-
poohed it, and was worried by the stock. How it happened
that after they had^ passed Sweet water, she was walking
beside the waggon one night, and looking at the western
x 2
308 A NIGHT AT WINGDAM.
sky, and she heard a little voice say "mother." How sh£
looked into the waggon and saw that little Willie was sleep
ing comfortably, and did not wish to wake him. How that
in a few moments more she heard the same voice saying,
"mother." How she came back to the waggon and leaned
down over him, and felt his breath upon her face, and again
covered him up tenderly, and once more resumed her weary
journey beside him, praying to God for his recovery. How,
with her face turned to the sky, she heard the same voice
saying, "mother," and directly a great, bright star shot
away from its brethren and expired. And how she knew
what had happened, and ran to the waggon again only to
pillow a little pinched and cold white face upon her weary
bosom. The thin, red hands went up to her eyes here, and
for a few moments she sat still. The wind tore round the
house and made a frantic rush at the front door, and from
his couch of skins in the inner room, Ingomar, the barbarian,
snored peacefully.
" Of course she always found a protector from insult and
outrage in the great courage and strength of her husband ? "
" Oh yes ; when Ingomar was with her she feared nothing.
But she was nervous, and had been frightened once ! "
" How 1 "
" They had just arrived in California. They kept house
then, and had to sell liquor to traders. Ingomar was
hospitable, and drank with everybody, for the sake of
popularity and business, and Ingomar got to like liquor, and
was easily affected by it. And how one night there was
a boisterous crowd in the bar-room ; she went in and tried
to get him away, but only succeeded in awakening the
coarse gallantry of the half-crazed revellers. And how,
when she had at last got him in the room with her frightened
children, he sank down on the bed in a stupor, which made
her think the liquor was drugged. And how she sat beside
him all night, and near morning heard a step in the passage,
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. . 309
and looking toward the door, saw the latch slowly moving up
and down, as if somebody were trying it. And how she
shook her husband, and tried to waken him, but without
effect. And how at last the door yielded slowly at the top
(it was bolted below), as if by a gradual pressure without ;
and how a hand protruded through the opening. And how,
as quick as lightning, she nailed that hand to the wall with
her scissors (her only weapon), but the point broke, and
somebody got away with a fearful oath. How she never
told her husband of it, for fear he would kill that somebody ;
but how on one day a stranger called here, and as she was
handing him his coffee, she saw a queer triangular scar on
the back of his hand."
She was still talking, and the wind was still blowing, and
Ingomar was still snoring from his couch of skins, when
there was a shout high up the straggling street, and a clat
tering of hoofs, and rattling of wheels. The mail had arrived.
Parthenia ran with the faded baby to awaken Ingomar, and
almost simultaneously the gallant expressman stood again
before me, addressing me by my Christian name, and inviting
me to drink out of a mysterious black bottle. The horses
were speedily watered, and the business of the gallant ex
pressman concluded, and bidding Parthenia good-bye, I got
on the stage, and immediately fell asleep, and dreamt of
calling on Parthenia and Ingomar, and being treated with
pie to an unlimited extent, until I woke up the next morn
ing in Sacramento. I have some doubts as to whether all
this was not a dyspeptic dream, but I never witness the
drama, and hear that noble sentiment concerning "Two
souls," etc., without thinking of Wingdam, and poor Par
thenia,.
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