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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11452 ***
+
+Stories by American Authors.
+
+VI.
+
+
+
+   THE VILLAGE CONVICT. By C.H. WHITE.
+
+   THE DENVER EXPRESS. By A.A. HAYES.
+
+   THE MISFORTUNES OF BRO' THOMAS WHEATLEY. By LINA REDWOOD FAIRFAX.
+
+   THE HEARTBREAK CAMEO. By L.W. CHAMPNEY.
+
+   MISS EUNICE'S GLOVE. By ALBERT WEBSTER.
+
+   BROTHER SEBASTIAN'S FRIENDSHIP. By HAROLD FREDERIC.
+
+
+
+1891
+
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE CONVICT.
+
+
+BY C.H. WHITE.
+
+"Wonder 'f Eph's got back; they say his sentence run out yisterday."
+
+The speaker, John Doane, was a sunburnt fisherman, one of a circle of
+well-salted individuals who sat, some on chairs, some on boxes and
+barrels, around the stove in a country store.
+
+"Yes," said Captain Seth, a middle-aged little man with earrings; "he
+come on the stage to-noon. Wouldn't hardly speak a word, Jim says.
+Looked kind o' sot and sober."
+
+"Wall," said the first speaker, "I only hope he won't go to burnin' us
+out of house and home, same as he burnt up Eliphalet's barn. I was
+ruther in hopes he'd 'a' made off West. Seems to me I should, in his
+place, hevin' ben in State's-prison."
+
+"Now, I allers bed quite a parcel o' sympathy for Eph," said a short,
+thickset coasting captain, who sat tilted back in a three-legged chair,
+smoking lazily. "You see, he wa'n't but about twenty-one or two then,
+and he was allus a mighty high-strung boy; and then Eliphalet did act
+putty ha'sh, foreclosin' on Eph's mother, and turnin' her out o' the
+farm, in winter, when everybody knew she could ha' pulled through by
+waitin'. Eph sot great store by the old lady, and I expect he was putty
+mad with Eliphalet that night."
+
+"I allers," said Doane, "approved o' his plan o' leadin' out all the
+critters, 'fore he touched off the barn. 'Taint everybody 't would hev
+taken pains to do that. But all the same, I tell Sarai't I feel kind o'
+skittish, nights, to hev to turn in, feelin' 't there's a convict in the
+place."
+
+"I hain't got no barn to burn," said Captain Seth; "but if he allots my
+henhouse to the flames, I hope he'll lead out the hens, and hitch 'em to
+the apple trees, same's he did Eliphalet's critters. Think he ought to
+deal ekally by all."
+
+A mild general chuckle greeted this sally, cheered by which the speaker
+added:
+
+"Thought some o' takin' out a policy o' insurance on my cockerel."
+
+"Trade's lookin' up, William," said Captain Seth to the storekeeper, as
+some one was heard to kick the snow off his boots on the door-step.
+"Somebody's found he's got to hev a shoestring 'fore mornin'."
+
+The door opened, and closed behind a strongly made fellow of twenty-six
+or seven, of homely features, with black hair, in clothes which he had
+outgrown. It was a bitter night, but he had no coat over his flannel
+jacket. He walked straight down the store, between the dry-goods
+counters, to the snug corner at the rear, where the knot of talkers sat;
+nodded, without a smile, to each of them, and then asked the storekeeper
+for some simple articles of food, which he wished to buy. It was Eph.
+
+While the purchases were being put up, an awkward silence prevailed,
+which the oil-suits hanging on the walls, broadly displaying their arms
+and legs, seemed to mock, in dumb show.
+
+Nothing was changed, to Eph's eyes, as he looked about. Even the
+handbill of familiar pattern:
+
+   "STANDING WOOD FOR SALE.
+   APPLY TO J. CARTER, ADMIN'R,"
+
+seemed to have always been there.
+
+The village parliament remained spellbound. Mr. Adams tied up the
+purchases and mildly inquired:
+
+"Shall I charge this?"
+
+Not that he was anxious to open an account, but that he would probably
+have gone to the length of selling Eph a barrel of molasses "on tick"
+rather than run any risk of offending so formidable a character.
+
+"No," said Eph; "I will pay for the things."
+
+And having put the packages into a canvas bag, and selected some
+fish-hooks and lines from the show-case, where they lay environed by
+jackknives, jewsharps, and gum-drops--dear to the eyes of his
+childhood--he paid what was due, said "Good-night, William," to the
+storekeeper, and walked steadily out into the night.
+
+"Wall," said the skipper, "I am surprised! I strove to think o' suthin'
+to say, all the time he was here, but I swow I couldn't think o'
+nothin'. I couldn't ask him if it seemed good to git home, nor how the
+thermometer had varied in different parts o' the town where he'd been.
+Everything seemed to fetch right up standin' to the State's-prison."
+
+"I was just goin' to say, 'How'd ye leave everybody?'" said Doane; "but
+that kind o' seemed to bring up them he'd left. I felt real bad, though,
+to hev the feller go off 'thout none on us speakin' to him. He's got a
+hard furrer to plough; and yet I don't s'pose there's much harm in him,
+'f Eliphalet only keeps quiet."
+
+"Eliphalet!" said a young sailor, contemptuously. "No fear o' him! They
+say he's so sca't of Eph he hain't hardly swallowed nothin' for a week."
+
+"But where will he live?" asked a short, curly-haired young man, whom
+Eph had seemed not to recognize. It was the new doctor, who, after
+having made his way through college and "the great medical school in
+Boston," had, two years before, settled in this village.
+
+"I believe," said Mr. Adams, rubbing his hands, "that he wrote to
+Joshua Carr last winter, when his mother died, not to let the little
+place she left, on the Salt Hay Road, and I understand that he is going
+to make his home there. It is an old house, you know, and not worth
+much, but it is weather-tight, I should say."
+
+"Speakin' of his writin' to Joshua," said Doane, "I have heard such a
+sound as that he used to shine up to Joshua's Susan, years back. But
+that's all ended now. You won't catch Susan marryin' no jailbirds."
+
+"But how will he live?" said the doctor. "Will anybody give him work?"
+
+"Let him alone for livin'," said Doane. "He can ketch more fish than any
+other two men in the place--allers seemed to kind o' hev a knack o'
+whistlin' 'em right into the boat. And then Nelson Briggs, that settled
+up his mother's estate, allows he's got over a hundred and ten dollars
+for him, after payin' debts and all probate expenses, and that and the
+place is all he needs to start on."
+
+"I will go to see him," said the doctor to himself, as he went out upon
+the requisition of a grave man in a red tippet, who had just come for
+him. "He doesn't look so very dangerous, and I think he can be tamed. I
+remember that his mother told me about him."
+
+Late that night, returning from his seven miles' drive, as he left the
+causeway, built across a wide stretch of salt-marsh, crossed the
+rattling plank bridge and ascended the hill, he saw a light in the
+cottage window, where he had often been to attend Aunt Lois. "I will
+stop now," said he. And, tying his horse to the front fence, he went
+toward the kitchen door. As he passed the window, he glanced in. A lamp
+was burning on the table. On a settle, lying upon his face, was
+stretched the convict, his arms beneath his head. The canvas bag lay on
+the floor beside him. "I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.
+
+A few days later Dr. Burt was driving in his sleigh with his wife along
+the Salt Hay Road. It was a clear, crisp winter forenoon. As they neared
+Eph's house, he said:
+
+"Mary, suppose I lay siege to the fort this morning. I see a curl of
+smoke rising from the little shop in the barn. He must be making himself
+a jimmy or a dark-lantern to break into our vegetable cellar with."
+
+"Well," said she, "I think it would be a good plan; only, you know, you
+must be very, very careful not to hint, even in the faintest way, at his
+imprisonment. You mustn't so much as _suspect_ that he has ever been
+away from the place. People hardly dare to speak to him, for fear he
+will see some reference to his having been in prison, and get angry."
+
+"You shall see my sly tact," said her husband, laughing. "I will be as
+innocent as a lamb. I will ask him why I have not seen him at the
+Sabbath-school this winter."
+
+"You may make fun," said she, "but you will end by taking my advice,
+all the same. Now, do be careful what you say."
+
+"I will," he replied. "I will compose my remarks carefully upon the back
+of an envelope and read them to him, so as to be absolutely sure. I will
+leave on his mind an impression that I have been in prison, and that he
+was the judge that tried me."
+
+He drove in at the open gate, hitched his horse in a warm corner by the
+kitchen door, and then stopped for a moment to enjoy the view. The
+situation of the little house, half a mile from any other, was beautiful
+in summer, but it was bleak enough in winter. In the small front
+dooryard stood three lofty, wind-blown poplars, all heading away from
+the sea, and between them you could look down the bay or across the
+salt-marshes, while in the opposite direction were to be seen the roofs
+and the glittering spires of the village.
+
+"It is social for him here, to say the least," said the doctor, as he
+turned and walked alone to the shop. He opened the door and went in. It
+was a long, low lean-to, such as farmers often furnish for domestic
+work, with a carpenter's bench, a grind-stone, and a few simple tools.
+It was lighted by three square windows above the bench. An air-tight
+stove, projecting its funnel through a hole in one of the panes, gave
+out a cheerful crackling.
+
+Eph, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands in his pockets, was standing, his
+back against the bench, surveying, with something of a mechanic's eye,
+the frame of a boat which was set up on the floor.
+
+He looked up and colored slightly. The doctor took out a cigarette, lit
+it, sat down on the bench, and smoked, clasping one knee in his hands
+and eying the boat.
+
+"Centre-board?" he asked, at length.
+
+"Yes," said Eph.
+
+"Cat-rig?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Going fishing?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was brought up to sail a boat," said the doctor, "and I often go
+fishing in summer, when I get a chance. I shall want to try your boat
+some time."
+
+No reply.
+
+"The timbers are not seasoned, are they? They look like pitch-pine, just
+out of the woods. Won't they warp?"
+
+"No. Pitch-pine goes right in, green. I s'pose the pitch keeps it, if
+it's out of the sun."
+
+"Where did you cut it?"
+
+Eph colored a little.
+
+"In my back lot."
+
+The doctor smoked on calmly, and studied the boat.
+
+"I don't know you," said Eph, relaxing a little.
+
+"Good reason," said the doctor. "I've only been here two years;" and
+after a moment's pause, he added: "I am the doctor here, now. You've
+heard of my father, Dr. Burt, of Broad River?"
+
+Eph nodded assent; everybody knew him, all through the country;--a
+fatherly old man, who rode on long journeys at everybody's call, and
+never sent in his bills.
+
+The visitor had a standing with Eph at once.
+
+"Doctors never pick at folks," he said to himself--"at any rate, not old
+Dr. Burt's son."
+
+"I used to come here to see your mother," said the doctor, "when she was
+sick. She used to talk a great deal about you, and said she wanted me to
+get acquainted with you, when your time was out."
+
+Eph started, but said nothing.
+
+"She was a good woman, Aunt Lois," added the doctor; "one of the best
+women I ever saw."
+
+"I don't want anybody to bother himself on my account," said Eph. "I ask
+no favors."
+
+"You will have to take favors, though," said the doctor, "before the
+winter is over. You will be careless and get sick; you have been living
+for a long time entirely in-doors, with regular hours and work and food.
+Now you are going to live out-of-doors, and get your own meals,
+irregularly. You didn't have on a thick coat the other night, when I saw
+you at the store."
+
+"I haven't got any that's large enough for me," said Eph, a little less
+harshly, "and I've got to keep my money for other things."
+
+"Then look out and wear flannel shirts enough," said the doctor, "if
+you want to be independent. But before I go, I want to go into the
+house. I want my wife to see Aunt Lois's room, and the view from the
+west window;" and he led the way to the sleigh.
+
+Eph hesitated a moment, and then followed him.
+
+"Mary, this is Ephraim Morse. We are going in to see the Dutch tiles I
+have told you of."
+
+She smiled as she held out her mittened hand to Eph, who took it
+awkwardly.
+
+The square front room, which had been originally intended for a
+keeping-room, but had been Aunt Lois's bedroom, looked out from two
+windows upon the road, and from two upon the rolling, tumbling bay, and
+the shining sea beyond. A tall clock, with a rocking ship above the
+face, ticked in the corner. The painted floor with bright rag-mats, the
+little table with a lacquer work-box, the stiff chairs, and the
+old-fashioned bedstead, the china ornaments upon the mantel-piece, the
+picture of "The Emeline G. in the Harbor of Canton," were just as they
+had been when the patient invalid had lain there, looking from her
+pillow out to sea. In twelve rude tiles set around the open fireplace,
+the Hebrews were seen in twelve stages of their escape from Egypt. It
+would appear from this representation that they had not restricted their
+borrowings to the jewels of their oppressors, but had taken for the
+journey certain Dutch clothing of the fashion of the seventeenth
+century. The scenery, too, was much like that about Leyden.
+
+"I think," said the doctor's wife, "that the painter was just a little
+absent-minded when he put in that beer-barrel. And a wharf, by the Red
+Sea!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I wish you would conclude to rig your boat with a new sail," said the
+doctor, as he took up the reins, at parting. "There isn't a boat here
+that's kept clean, and I should like to hire yours once or twice a week
+in summer, if you keep her as neat as you do your house. Come in and see
+me some evening, and we'll talk it over."
+
+Eph built his boat, and, in spite of his evident dislike of visitors,
+the inside finish and the arrangements of the little cabin were so
+ingenious and so novel that everybody had to pay him a visit.
+
+True to his plan of being independent, he built in the side of the hill,
+near his barn, by a little gravelly pond, an ice-house, and, with the
+hardest labor, filled it, all by himself. With this supply, he would not
+have to go to the general wharf at Sandy Point to sell his fish, with
+the other men, but could pack and ship them himself. And he could do
+better, in this way, he thought, even after paying for teaming them to
+the cars.
+
+The knowing ones laughed to see that, from asking no advice, he had
+miscalculated and laid in three times as much as he could use.
+
+"Guess Eph cal'lates ter fish with two lines in each hand and 'nother in
+his teeth," said Mr. Wing. "He's plannin' out for a great lay o' fish."
+
+The spring came slowly on, and the first boat that went out that season
+was Eph's. That day was one of unmixed delight to him. What a sense of
+absolute freedom, when he was fairly out beyond the lightship, with the
+fresh swiftness of the wind in his face! What an exquisite consciousness
+of power and control, as his boat went beating through the long waves!
+Two or three men from another village sailed across his wake. His boat
+lay over, almost showing her keel, now high out of water, now settling
+between the waves, while Eph stood easily in the stern in his
+shirt-sleeves, steering with his knee, smoking a pipe, heaving and
+hauling his line astern for bluefish.
+
+"Takes it nat'ral ag'in, don't he? Stands as easy as ef he was loafin'
+on a wharf," said one of the observers. "Expect it's quite a treat to be
+out. But they do say he's gittin' everybody's good opinion. They looked
+for a regular ruffian when he come home--cuttin' nets, killin' cats,
+chasin' hens, gittin' drunk. They say Eliphalet Wood didn't hardly dare
+to go ou' doors for a month, 'thout havin' his hired man along. But he's
+turned out as peaceful as a little gal."
+
+One June day, as Eph was slitting bluefish at the little pier which he
+had built on the bay-shore, near his rude ice-house, two men came up.
+
+"Hallo, Eph!"
+
+"Hallo."
+
+"We've got about sick, tradin' down to the wharf; we can't git no fair
+show. About one time in three, they tell us they don't want our fish,
+and won't take 'em unless we'll heave 'em in for next to nothin',
+and we know there ain't no sense in it. So we just thought we'd slip
+down and see ef you wouldn't take 'em, seein's you've got ice, and send
+'em up with yourn."
+
+Eph was taken all aback with this mark of confidence. He would decline
+the offer, sure that it sprang from some mere passing vexation.
+
+"I can't buy fish," said he. "I have no scales to weigh 'em."
+
+"Then send ourn in separate barrels," said one of them.
+
+"But I haven't any money to pay you," he said. "I only get my pay once a
+month."
+
+"We'll git tick at William's, and you can settle 'th us when you git
+your pay."
+
+"Well," said he, unable to refuse, "I'll take 'em, if you say so."
+
+Before the season was over, he had still another customer, and could
+have had three or four more, if he had had ice enough. He was strongly
+inclined that fall to build a larger ice-house, and although he was a
+little afraid of bringing ridicule upon himself in case no fish should
+be brought to him the next summer, he decided to do so, on the assurance
+of three or four men that they would deal with him. Nobody else had such
+a chance, he thought--a pond right by the shore.
+
+One evening there was a knock at the door of Eliphalet Wood, the owner
+of the burned barn. Eliphalet went to the door, but turned pale at
+seeing Eph there.
+
+"Oh, come in, come in!" he panted. "Glad to see you. Walk in. Have a
+chair. Take a seat. Sit down."
+
+But he thought his hour had come: he was alone in the house, and there
+was no neighbor within call.
+
+Eph took out a roll of bills, counted out eighty dollars, laid the money
+on the table, and said, quietly:
+
+"Give me a receipt on account."
+
+When it was written he walked out, leaving Eliphalet stupefied.
+
+Joshua Carr was at work, one June afternoon, by the road-side, in front
+of his low cottage, by an enormous pile of poles, which he was shaving
+down for barrel-hoops, when Eph appeared.
+
+"Hard at it, Joshua!" he said.
+
+"Yes, yes!" said Joshua, looking up through his steel-bowed spectacles.
+"Hev to work hard to make a livin'--though I don't know's I ought to
+call it hard, neither; and yet it is rather hard, too; but then, on
+t'other hand, 'taint so hard as a good many other things--though there
+is a good many jobs that's easier. That's so! That's so!
+
+   "'Must we be kerried to the skies
+   On feathery beds of ease?'
+
+Though I don' know's I oughter quote a hymn on such a matter; but
+then--I don' know's there's any partic'lar harm in't, neither."
+
+Eph sat down on a pile of shavings and chewed a sliver; and the old man
+kept on at his work.
+
+"Hoop-poles goin' up and hoops goin' down," he continued. "Cur'us, ain't
+it? But then, I don' know as 'tis; woods all bein' cut off--poles
+gittin' scurcer; hoops bein' shoved in from Down East. That don' seem
+just right, now, does it--but then, other folks must make a livin', too.
+Still, I should think they might take up suthin' else; and yet, they
+might say that about me. Understand, I don' mean to say that they
+actually do say so; I don' want to run down any man unless I know--"
+
+"I can't stand this," said Eph to himself; "I don't wonder that they
+always used to put Joshua off at the first port, when he tried to go
+coasting. They said he talked them crazy with nothing.
+
+"I'll go into the house and see Aunt Lyddy," he said, aloud. "I'm
+loafing this afternoon."
+
+"All right! all right!" said Joshua. "Lyddy'll be glad to see ye--that
+is, as glad as she would be to see anybody," he added, reaching out for
+a pole. "Now, I don' s'pose that sounds very well; but still, you know
+how she is--she allus likes to hev folks to talk, and then she's allus
+sayin' talkin' wears on her; but I ought not to say that to you, because
+she allus likes to see you--that is, as much as she likes to see
+anybody--in fact, I think, on the whole--"
+
+"Well, I'll take my chances," said Eph, laughing, and he opened the gate
+and went in.
+
+Joshua's wife, whom everybody called Aunt Lyddy, was oscillating in a
+rocking-chair in the kitchen, and knitting. It was currently reported
+that Joshua's habit of endlessly retracting and qualifying every idea
+and modification of an idea which he advanced, so as to commit himself
+to nothing, was the effect of Aunt Lyddy's careful revision.
+
+"I s'pose she thought 'twas fun to be talked deef when they was
+courtin'," Captain Seth had once sagely remarked. "Prob'ly it sounded
+then like a putty piece on a seraphine; but I allers cal'lated she'd git
+her fill of it, sooner or later. You most gin'lly git your fill o' one
+tune."
+
+"How are you this afternoon, Aunt Lyddy?" asked Eph, walking in without
+knocking, and sitting down near her.
+
+"So as to be able to keep about," she replied. "It is a great mercy I
+ain't afflicted with falling out of my chair, like Hepsy Jones, ain't
+it?"
+
+"I've brought you some oysters," he said. "I set the basket down on the
+door-step. I just took them out of the water myself from the bed I
+planted to the west of the water-fence."
+
+"I always heard you was a great fisherman," said Aunt Lyddy, "but I had
+no idea you would ever come here and boast of being able to catch
+oysters. Poor things! How could they have got away? But why don't you
+bring them in? They won't be afraid of me, will they?"
+
+He stepped to the door and brought in a peck basket full of large,
+black, twisted shells, and with a heavy clasp-knife proceeded to open
+one, and took out a great oyster, which he held up on the point of the
+blade.
+
+"Try it," he said; and then Aunt Lyddy, after she had swallowed it,
+laughed to think what a tableau they had made--a man who had been in the
+State-prison standing over her with a great knife! And then she laughed
+again.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he said.
+
+"It popped into my head, supposing Susan should have looked in at the
+south window and Joshua into the door, when you was feeding out that
+oyster to me, what they would have thought!"
+
+Eph laughed, too, and, surely enough, just then a stout, light-haired,
+rather plain-looking young woman came up to the south window and leaned
+in. She had on a sun-bonnet, which had not prevented her from securing a
+few choice freckles. She had been working with a trowel in her
+flower-garden.
+
+"What's the matter?" she said, nodding easily to Eph. "What do you two
+always find to laugh about?"
+
+"Ephraim was feeding me with spoon-meat," said Aunt Lyddy, pointing to
+the basket, which looked like a basket of anthracite coal.
+
+"It looks like spoon-meat," said Susan, and then she laughed too. "I'll
+roast some of them for supper," she added, "a new way that I know."
+
+Eph was not invited to stay to supper, but he stayed, none the less:
+that was always understood.
+
+"Well! Well! Well!" said Joshua, coming to the door-step, and washing
+his hands and arms just outside, in a tin basin. "I thought I see you
+set down a parcel of oysters--but there was seaweed over 'em, and I don'
+know's I could hev said they was oysters; but then, if the square
+question hed been put to me, 'Mr. Carr, be them oysters or not?' I
+s'pose I should hev said they was; still, if they'd asked me how I
+knew--"
+
+"Come, come, father!" said Aunt Lyddy, "do give poor Ephraim a little
+peace. Why don't you just say you thought they were oysters, and done
+with it?"
+
+"Say I _thought_ they was?" he replied, innocently. "I knew well enough
+they was--that is--knew? No, I didn't know, but--"
+
+Aunt Lyddy, with an air of mock resignation, gave up, while Joshua
+endeavored to fix, to a hair, the exact extent of his knowledge.
+
+Eph smiled; but he remembered what would have made him pardon, a
+thousand times over, the old man's garrulousness. He remembered who
+alone had never failed, once a year, to visit a certain prisoner, at the
+cost of a long and tiresome journey, and who had written to that
+homesick prisoner kind and cheering letters, and had sent him baskets
+of simple dainties for holidays.
+
+Susan bustled about, and made a fire of crackling sticks, and began to
+roast the oysters in a way that made a most savory smell. She set the
+table, and then sat down at the melodeon, while she was waiting, and
+sang a hymn--for she was of a musical turn, and was one of the choir.
+Then she jumped up, and took out the steaming oysters, and they all sat
+down.
+
+"Well, well, well!" said her father; "these be good! I didn't s'pose you
+had any very good oysters in your bed, Ephraim. But there, now--I don'
+s'pose I ought to have said that; that wasn't very polite; but what I
+meant was--I didn't s'pose you had any that was _real_ good--though I
+don' know but that I've said about the same thing, now. Well, anyway,
+these be splendid; they're full as good as those cohogs we had t'other
+night."
+
+"Quahaugs!" said Susan. "The idea of comparing these oysters with
+quahaugs!"
+
+"Well, well! that's so!" said the father. "I didn't say right, did I,
+when I said that? Of course, they ain't no comparison--that is--_no_
+comparison--why, of course, they _is_ a comparison between everything,
+but then, cohogs don' really compare with oysters! That's true!"
+
+And then he paused to eat a few.
+
+He was silent so long at this occupation that they all laughed.
+
+"Well, well!" said he, laying down his fork, and smiling innocently;
+"what be you all laughin' at? Not but what I allers like to hev folks
+laugh--but then--I didn't see nothin' to laugh at. Still perhaps, they
+was suthin' to laugh at that I didn't see; sometimes one man'll be
+lookin' down into his plate, all taken up with his vittles, and others
+that's lookin' around the room, may see the kittens frolickin', or some
+such thing. 'Tain't the fust time I've known all hands to laugh all to
+onct, when I didn't see nothin'."
+
+Susan helped him again, and secured another brief respite.
+
+"Ephraim," said he, after awhile, "you ain't skilled to cook oysters
+like this, I don' believe. You ought to get married! I was sayin' to
+Susan t'other day--well, now, mother, have I said an'thing out o' the
+way?--well, I don' s'pose 'twas just my place to hev said an'thing about
+gittin' married, to Ephraim, seein's--"
+
+"Come, come, father," said Aunt Lyddy, "that'll do, now. You must let
+Ephraim alone, and not joke him about such things."
+
+Meanwhile Susan had hastily gone into the pantry to look for a pie,
+which she seemed unable at once to find.
+
+"Pie got adrift?" called out Joshua. "Seems to me you don' hook on to it
+very quick. Now that looks good," he added, when she came out. "That
+looks like cookin'! All I meant was, 't Ephraim ought not to be doin'
+his own cookin'--that is--if you can call it cookin'--but then, of
+course, 'tis cookin'--there's all kinds o' cookin'. I went cook myself,
+when I was a boy."
+
+After supper, Aunt Lyddy sat down to knit, and Joshua drew his chair up
+to an open window, to smoke his pipe. In this vice Aunt Lyddy encouraged
+him. The odor of Virginia tobacco was a sweet savor in her nostrils. No
+breezes from Araby ever awoke more grateful feelings than did the
+fragrance of Uncle Joshua's pipe. To Aunt Lyddy it meant quiet and
+peace.
+
+Susan and Eph sat down on the broad flag door-stone, and talked quietly
+of the simple news of the neighborhood, and of the days when they used
+to go to school, and come home, always together.
+
+"I didn't much think, then," said Eph, "that I should ever bring up
+where I have, and get ashore before I was fairly out to sea!"
+
+"Jehiel's schooner got ashore on the bar, years ago," said Susan, "and
+yet they towed her off, and I saw her this morning, from my chamber
+window, before sunrise, all sail set, going by to the eastward."
+
+"I know what you mean," said Eph. "But here--I got mad once, and I
+almost had a right to, and I can't get started again; I never shall. I
+can get a livin', of course; but I shall always be pointed out as a
+jail-bird, and could no more get any footin' in the world than
+Portuguese Jim."
+
+Portuguese Jim was the sole professional criminal of the town, a weak,
+good-natured, knock-kneed vagabond, who stole hens, and spent every
+winter in the House of Correction as an "idle and disorderly person."
+
+Susan laughed outright at the picture. Eph smiled, too, but a little
+bitterly.
+
+"I suppose it was more ugliness than anything else," he said, "that made
+me come back here to live, where everybody knows I've been in jail and
+is down on me."
+
+"They are not down on you," said Susan. "Nobody is down on you. It's all
+your own imagination. And if you had gone anywhere that you was a
+stranger, you know that the first thing that you would have done would
+have been to call a meetin' and tell all the people that you had burned
+down a man's barn, and been in the State's-prison, and that you wanted
+them all to know it at the start; and you wouldn't have told them why
+you did it, and how young you was then, and how Eliphalet treated your
+mother, and how you was going to pay him for all he lost. Here,
+everybody knows that side of it. In fact," she added, with a little
+twinkle in her eye, "I have sometimes had an idea that the main thing
+they don't like is to see you savin' every cent to pay to Eliphalet."
+
+"And yet it was on your say that I took up that plan," said Eph. "I
+never thought of it till you asked me when I was goin' to begin to pay
+him up."
+
+"And you ought to," said Susan. "He has a right to the money--and then
+you don't want to be under obligations to that man all your life. Now,
+what you want to do is to cheer up and go around among folks. Why, now,
+you're the only fish-buyer there is that the men don't watch when he's
+weighin' their fish. You'll own up to that, for one thing, won't you?"
+
+"Well, they are good fellows that bring fish to me," he said.
+
+"They weren't good fellows when they traded at the great wharf," said
+Susan. "They had a quarrel down there once a week, reg'larly."
+
+"Well, suppose they do trust me in that," said Eph. "I can never rub out
+that I've been in State's-prison."
+
+"You don't want to rub it out. You can't rub anything out that's ever
+been; but you can do better than rub it out."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Take things just the way they are," said Susan, "and show what can be
+done. Perhaps you'll stake a new channel out, for others to follow in
+that haven't half so much chance as you have. And that's what you will
+do, too," she added.
+
+"Susan!" he said, "if there's anything I can ever do, in this world or
+the next, for you or your folks, that's all I ask for, the chance to do
+it. Your folks and you shall never want for anything while I'm alive.
+
+"There's one thing sure," he added, rising. "I'll live by myself and be
+independent of everybody, and make my way all alone in the world; and if
+I can make 'em all finally own up and admit that I'm honest with 'em,
+I'm satisfied. That's all I'll ever ask of anybody. But there's one
+thing that worries me sometimes--that is, whether I ought to come here
+so often. I'm afraid, sometimes, that it'll hinder your father from
+gettin' work, or--something--for you folks to be friends with me."
+
+"I think such things take care of themselves," said Susan, quietly. "If
+a chip won't float, let it sink."
+
+"Good-night," said Eph, and he walked off, and went home to his echoing
+house.
+
+After that, his visits to Joshua's became less frequent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a bright day in March--one of those which almost redeem the
+reputation of that desperado of a month. Eph was leaning on his fence,
+looking now down the bay and now to where the sun was sinking in the
+marshes. He knew that all the other men had gone to the town-meeting,
+where he had had no heart to intrude himself--that free democratic
+parliament where he had often gone with his father in childhood; where
+the boys, rejoicing in a general assembly of their own, had played ball
+outside, while the men debated gravely within. He recalled the time when
+he himself had so proudly given his first vote for President, and how
+his father had introduced him then to friends from distant parts of the
+town. He remembered how he had heard his father speak there, and how
+respectfully everybody had listened to him. That was in the long ago,
+when they had lived at the great farm. And then came the thought of the
+mortgage, and of Eliphalet's foreclosure, and--
+
+"Hallo, Eph!"
+
+It was one of the men from whom he took fish--a plain-spoken, sincere
+little man.
+
+"Why wa'n't you down to town-meet'n'?"
+
+"I was busy," said Eph.
+
+"How'd ye like the news?"
+
+"What news?"
+
+There was never any good news for him now.
+
+"Hain't heard who's selected town-clerk?"
+
+"No."
+
+Had they elected Eliphalet, and so expressed their settled distrust of
+him, and sympathy for the man whom he had injured?
+
+"Who's elected?" he asked, harshly.
+
+"You be!" said the man; "went in flyin', all hands clappin' and stompin'
+their feet!"
+
+An hour later the doctor drove up, stopped, and walked toward the
+kitchen door. As he passed the window, he looked in.
+
+Eph was lying on his face, upon the settle, as he had first seen him
+there, his arms beneath his head.
+
+"I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One breezy afternoon, in the following summer, Captain Seth laid aside
+his easy every-day clothes, and transformed himself into a stiff
+broadcloth image, with a small silk hat and creaking boots. So attired,
+he set out in a high open buggy, with his wife, also in black, but with
+gold spectacles, to the funeral of an aunt. As they pursued their
+jog-trot journey along the Salt Hay Road, and came to Ephraim Morse's
+cottage, they saw Susan sitting in a shady little porch, at the front
+door, shelling peas, and looking down the bay.
+
+"How is everything, Susan?" called out Captain Seth; "'bout time for Eph
+to be gitt'n' in?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, nodding and smiling, and pointing with a pea-pod;
+"that's our boat, just coming up to the wharf, with her peak down."
+
+
+
+
+THE DENVER EXPRESS.
+
+BY A.A. HAYES.
+
+
+I.
+
+
+Any one who has seen an outward-bound clipper ship getting under way and
+heard the "shanty-songs" sung by the sailors as they toiled at capstan
+and halliards, will probably remember that rhymeless but melodious
+refrain--
+
+   "I'm bound to see its muddy waters
+     Yeo ho! that rolling river;
+   Bound to see its muddy waters
+     Yeo ho! the wild Missouri."
+
+Only a happy inspiration could have impelled Jack to apply the adjective
+"wild" to that ill-behaved and disreputable river, which, tipsily
+bearing its enormous burden of mud from the far North-west, totters,
+reels, runs its tortuous course for hundreds on hundreds of miles; and
+which, encountering the lordly and thus far well-behaved Mississippi at
+Alton, and forcing its company upon this splendid river (as if some
+drunken fellow should lock arms with a dignified pedestrian),
+contaminates it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.
+
+At a certain point on the banks of this river, or rather--as it has the
+habit of abandoning and destroying said banks--at a safe distance
+therefrom, there is a town from which a railroad takes its departure for
+its long climb up the natural incline of the Great Plains, to the base
+of the mountains; hence the importance to this town of the large but
+somewhat shabby building serving as terminal station. In its smoky
+interior, late in the evening and not very long ago, a train was nearly
+ready to start. It was a train possessing a certain consideration. For
+the benefit of a public easily gulled and enamored of grandiloquent
+terms, it was advertised as the "Denver Fast Express;" sometimes, with
+strange unfitness, as the "Lightning Express"; "elegant" and "palatial"
+cars were declared to be included therein; and its departure was one of
+the great events of the twenty-four hours, in the country round about. A
+local poet described it in the "live" paper of the town, cribbing from
+an old Eastern magazine and passing off as original, the lines--
+
+   "Again we stepped into the street,
+     A train came thundering by,
+   Drawn by the snorting iron steed
+     Swifter than eagles fly.
+
+   Rumbled the wheels, the whistle shrieked,
+     Far rolled the smoky cloud,
+   Echoed the hills, the valleys shook,
+     The flying forests bowed."
+
+The trainmen, on the other hand, used no fine phrases. They called it
+simply "Number Seventeen"; and, when it started, said it had "pulled
+out."
+
+On the evening in question, there it stood, nearly ready. Just behind
+the great hissing locomotive, with its parabolic headlight and its
+coal-laden tender, came the baggage, mail, and express cars; then the
+passenger coaches, in which the social condition of the occupants seemed
+to be in inverse ratio to their distance from the engine. First came
+emigrants, "honest miners," "cow-boys," and laborers; Irishmen, Germans,
+Welshmen, Mennonites from Russia, quaint of garb and speech, and
+Chinamen. Then came long cars full of people of better station, and last
+the great Pullman "sleepers," in which the busy black porters were
+making up the berths for well-to-do travellers of diverse nationalities
+and occupations.
+
+It was a curious study for a thoughtful observer, this motley crowd of
+human beings sinking all differences of race, creed, and habits in the
+common purpose to move Westward--to the mountain fastnesses, the
+sage-brush deserts, the Golden Gate.
+
+The warning bell had sounded, and the fireman leaned far out for the
+signal. The gong struck sharply, the conductor shouted, "All aboard,"
+and raised his hand; the tired ticket-seller shut his window, and the
+train moved out of the station, gathered way as it cleared the outskirts
+of the town, rounded a curve, entered on an absolutely straight line,
+and, with one long whistle from the engine, settled down to its work.
+Through the night hours it sped on, past lonely ranches and infrequent
+stations, by and across shallow streams fringed with cottonwood trees,
+over the greenish-yellow buffalo grass; near the old trail where many a
+poor emigrant, many a bold frontiersman, many a brave soldier, had laid
+his bones but a short time before.
+
+Familiar as they may be, there is something strangely impressive about
+all night journeys by rail; and those forming part of an American
+transcontinental trip are almost weird. From the windows of a
+night-express in Europe, or the older portions of the United States, one
+looks on houses and lights, cultivated fields, fences, and hedges; and,
+hurled as he may be through the darkness, he has a sense of
+companionship and semi-security. Far different is it when the long train
+is running over those two rails which, seen before night set in, seemed
+to meet on the horizon. Within, all is as if between two great seaboard
+cities; the neatly dressed people, the uniformed officials, the handsome
+fittings, the various appliances for comfort. Without are now long,
+dreary levels, now deep and wild cañons, now an environment of strange
+and grotesque rock-formations, castles, battlements, churches, statues.
+The antelope fleetly runs, and the coyote skulks away from the track,
+and the gray wolf howls afar off. It is for all the world, to one's
+fancy, as if a bit of civilization, a family or community, its
+belongings and surroundings complete, were flying through regions
+barbarous and inhospitable.
+
+From the cab of Engine No. 32, the driver of the Denver Express saw,
+showing faintly in the early morning, the buildings grouped about the
+little station ten miles ahead, where breakfast awaited his passengers.
+He looked at his watch; he had just twenty minutes in which to run the
+distance, as he had run it often before. Something, however, travelled
+faster than he. From the smoky station out of which the train passed the
+night before, along the slender wire stretched on rough poles at the
+side of the track, a spark of that mysterious something which we call
+electricity flashed at the moment he returned the watch to his pocket;
+and in five minutes' time, the station-master came out on the platform,
+a little more thoughtful than his wont, and looked eastward for the
+smoke of the train. With but three of the passengers in that train has
+this tale specially to do, and they were all in the new and comfortable
+Pullman "City of Cheyenne." One was a tall, well-made man of about
+thirty--blond, blue-eyed, bearded, straight, sinewy, alert. Of all in
+the train he seemed the most thoroughly at home, and the respectful
+greeting of the conductor, as he passed through the car, marked him as
+an officer of the road. Such was he--Henry Sinclair, assistant engineer,
+quite famed on the line, high in favor with the directors, and a rising
+man in all ways. It was known on the road that he was expected in
+Denver, and there were rumors that he was to organize the parties for
+the survey of an important "extension." Beside him sat his pretty young
+wife. She was a New Yorker--one could tell at first glance--from the
+feather of her little bonnet, matching the gray travelling dress, to the
+tips of her dainty boots; and one, too, at whom old Fifth Avenue
+promenaders would have turned to look. She had a charming figure, brown
+hair, hazel eyes, and an expression at once kind, intelligent, and
+spirited. She had cheerfully left a luxurious home to follow the young
+engineer's fortunes; and it was well known that those fortunes had been
+materially advanced by her tact and cleverness.
+
+The third passenger in question had just been in conversation with
+Sinclair, and the latter was telling his wife of their curious meeting.
+Entering the toilet-room at the rear of the car, he said, he had begun
+his ablutions by the side of another man, and it was as they were
+sluicing their faces with water that he heard the cry:
+
+"Why, Major, is that you? Just to think of meeting you here!"
+
+A man of about twenty-eight years of age, slight, muscular, wiry, had
+seized his wet hand and was wringing it. He had black eyes, keen and
+bright, swarthy complexion, black hair and mustache. A keen observer
+might have seen about him some signs of a _jeunesse orageuse_, but his
+manner was frank and pleasing. Sinclair looked him in the face, puzzled
+for a moment.
+
+"Don't you remember Foster?" asked the man.
+
+"Of course I do," replied Sinclair. "For a moment I could not place you.
+Where have you been and what have you been doing?"
+
+"Oh," replied Foster, laughing, "I've braced up and turned over a new
+leaf. I'm a respectable member of society, have a place in the express
+company, and am going to Denver to take charge."
+
+"I am very glad to hear it, and you must tell me your story when we have
+had our breakfast."
+
+The pretty young woman was just about to ask who Foster was, when the
+speed of the train slackened, and the brakeman opened the door of the
+car and cried out in stentorian tones:
+
+"Pawnee Junction; twenty minutes for refreshments!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+II.
+
+When the celebrated Rocky Mountain gold excitement broke out, more than
+twenty years ago, and people painted "PIKE'S PEAK OR BUST" on the
+canvas covers of their wagons and started for the diggings, they
+established a "trail" or "trace" leading in a south-westerly direction
+from the old one to California.
+
+At a certain point on this trail a frontiersman named Barker built a
+forlorn ranch-house and _corral_, and offered what is conventionally
+called "entertainment for man and beast."
+
+For years he lived there, dividing his time between fighting the Indians
+and feeding the passing emigrants and their stock. Then the first
+railroad to Denver was built, taking another route from the Missouri,
+and Barker's occupation was gone. He retired with his gains to St. Louis
+and lived in comfort.
+
+Years passed on, and the "extension" over which our train is to pass was
+planned. The old pioneers were excellent natural engineers, and their
+successors could find no better route than they had chosen. Thus it was
+that "Barker's" became, during the construction period, an important
+point, and the frontiersman's name came to figure on time-tables.
+Meanwhile the place passed through a process of evolution which would
+have delighted Darwin. In the party of engineers which first camped
+there was Sinclair, and it was by his advice that the contractors
+selected it for division headquarters. Then came drinking "saloons," and
+gambling-houses--alike the inevitable concomitant and the bane of
+Western settlements; then scattered houses and shops, and a shabby
+so-called hotel, in which the letting of miserable rooms (divided from
+each other by canvas partitions) was wholly subordinated to the business
+of the bar. Before long, Barker's had acquired a worse reputation than
+even other towns of its type, the abnormal and uncanny aggregations of
+squalor and vice which dotted the plains in those days; and it was at
+its worst when Sinclair returned thither and took up his quarters in the
+engineers' building. The passion for gambling was raging, and to pander
+thereto were collected as choice a lot of desperadoes as ever "stocked"
+cards or loaded dice. It came to be noticed that they were on excellent
+terms with a man called "Jeff" Johnson, who was lessee of the hotel; and
+to be suspected that said Johnson, in local parlance, "stood in with"
+them. With this man had come to Barker's his daughter Sarah, commonly
+known as "Sally," a handsome girl with a straight, lithe figure, fine
+features, reddish auburn hair, and dark blue eyes. It is but fair to say
+that even the "toughs" of a place like Barker's show some respect for
+the other sex, and Miss Sally's case was no exception to the rule. The
+male population admired her; they said she "put on heaps of style"; but
+none of them had seemed to make any progress in her good graces.
+
+On a pleasant afternoon, just after the track had been laid some miles
+west of Barker's, and construction trains were running with some
+regularity to and from the end thereof, Sinclair sat on the rude veranda
+of the engineers' quarters, smoking his well-colored meerschaum and
+looking at the sunset. The atmosphere had been so clear during the day
+that glimpses were had of Long's and Pike's peaks, and as the young
+engineer gazed at the gorgeous cloud-display he was thinking of the
+miners' quaint and pathetic idea that the dead "go over the Range."
+
+"Nice-looking, ain't it, Major?" asked a voice at his elbow, and he
+turned to see one of the contractors' officials taking a seat near him.
+
+"More than nice-looking, to my mind, Sam," he replied. "What is the news
+to-day?"
+
+"Nothin' much. There's a sight of talk about the doin's of them faro an'
+keno sharps. The boys is gittin' kind o' riled, fur they allow the game
+ain't on the square wuth a cent. Some of 'em down to the tie-camp wuz
+a-talkin' about a vigilance committee, an' I wouldn't be surprised ef
+they meant business. Hev yer heard about the young feller that come in a
+week ago from Laramie an' set up a new faro-bank?"
+
+"No. What about him?"
+
+"Wa'al, yer see he's a feller thet's got a lot of sand an' ain't afeared
+of nobody, an' he's allowed to hev the deal to his place on the square
+every time. Accordin' to my idee, gamblin's about the wust racket a
+feller kin work, but it takes all sorts of men to make a world, an' ef
+the boys is bound to hev a game, I calkilate they'd like to patronize
+his bank. Thet's made the old crowd mighty mad, an' they're a-talkin'
+about puttin' up a job of cheatin' on him an' then stringin' him up. Be
+sides, I kind o' think there's some cussed jealousy on another lay as
+comes in. Yer see the young feller--Cyrus Foster's his name--is sweet on
+thet gal of Jeff Johnson's. Jeff wuz to Laramie before he come here, an'
+Foster knowed Sally up thar. I allow he moved here to see her. Hello! Ef
+thar they ain't a-comin' now."
+
+Down a path leading from the town, past the railroad buildings, and well
+on the prairie, Sinclair saw the girl walking with the "young feller."
+He was talking earnestly to her, and her eyes were cast down. She looked
+pretty and, in a way, graceful; and there was in her attire a noticeable
+attempt at neatness, and a faint reminiscence of by-gone fashions. A
+smile came to Sinclair's lips as he thought of a couple walking up Fifth
+Avenue during his leave of absence not many months before, and of a
+letter, many times read, lying at that moment in his breast-pocket.
+
+"Papa's bark is worse than his bite," ran one of its sentences. "Of
+course he does not like the idea of my leaving him and going away to
+such dreadful and remote places as Denver and Omaha, and I don't know
+what else; but he will not oppose me in the end, and when you come on
+again--"
+
+"By thunder!" exclaimed Sam; "ef thar ain't one of them cussed sharps a
+watchin' 'em."
+
+Sure enough, a rough-looking fellow, his hat pulled over his eyes, half
+concealed behind a pile of lumber, was casting a sinister glance toward
+the pair.
+
+"The gal's well enough," continued Sam; "but I don't take a cent's wuth
+of stock in thet thar father of her'n. He's in with them sharps, sure
+pop, an' it don't suit his book to hev Foster hangin' round. It's ten to
+one he sent that cuss to watch 'em. Wa'al, they're a queer lot, an' I'm
+afeared thar's plenty of trouble ahead among 'em. Good luck to you,
+Major," and he pushed back his chair and walked away.
+
+After breakfast next morning, when Sinclair was sitting at the table in
+his office, busy with maps and plans, the door was thrown open, and
+Foster, panting for breath, ran in.
+
+"Major Sinclair," he said, speaking with difficulty, "I've no claim on
+you, but I ask you to protect me. The other gamblers are going to hang
+me. They are more than ten to one. They will track me here, and unless
+you harbor me, I'm a dead man."
+
+Sinclair rose from his chair in a second and walked to the window. A
+party of men were approaching the building. He turned to Foster:
+
+"I do not like your trade," said he; "but I will not see you murdered if
+I can help it. You are welcome here." Foster said "Thank you," stood
+still a moment, and then began to pace the room, rapidly clinching his
+hands, his whole frame quivering, his eyes flashing fire--"for all the
+world," Sinclair said, in telling the story afterward, "like a fierce
+caged tiger."
+
+"My God!" he muttered, with concentrated intensity, "to be _trapped_,
+TRAPPED like this!"
+
+Sinclair stepped quickly to the door of his bedroom, and motioned Foster
+to enter. Then there came a knock at the outer door, and he opened it
+and stood on the threshold, erect and firm. Half a dozen "toughs" faced
+him.
+
+"Major," said their spokesman, "we want that man."
+
+"You cannot have him, boys."
+
+"Major, we're a-goin' to take him."
+
+"You had better not try," said Sinclair, with perfect ease and
+self-possession, and in a pleasant voice. "I have given him shelter, and
+you can only get him over my dead body. Of course you can kill me, but
+you won't do even that without one or two of you going down; and then
+you know perfectly well, boys, what will happen. You _know_ that if you
+lay your finger on a railroad man it's all up with you. There are five
+hundred men in the tie-camp, not five miles away, and you don't need to
+be told that in less than one hour after they get word there won't be a
+piece of one of you big enough to bury."
+
+The men made no reply. They looked him straight in the eyes for a
+moment. Had they seen a sign of flinching they might have risked the
+issue, but there was none. With muttered curses, they slunk away.
+Sinclair shut and bolted the door, then opened the one leading to the
+bedroom.
+
+"Foster," he said, "the train will pass here in half an hour. Have you
+money enough?"
+
+"Plenty, Major."
+
+"Very well; keep perfectly quiet, and I will try to get you safely off."
+He went to an adjoining room and called Sam, the contractor's man. He
+took in the situation at a glance.
+
+"Wa'al, Foster," said he, "kind o' 'close call' for yer, warn't it?
+Guess yer'd better be gittin' up an' gittin' pretty lively. The train
+boys will take yer through, an' yer kin come back when this racket's
+worked out."
+
+Sinclair glanced at his watch, then he walked to the window and looked
+out. On a small _mesa_, or elevated-plateau, commanding the path to the
+railroad, he saw a number of men with rifles.
+
+"Just as I expected," said he. "Sam, ask one of the boys to go down to
+the track and, when the train arrives, tell the conductor to come here."
+
+In a few minutes the whistle was heard, and the conductor entered the
+building. Receiving his instructions, he returned, and immediately on
+engine, tender, and platform appeared the trainmen, with _their_ rifles
+covering the group on the bluff. Sinclair put on his hat.
+
+"Now, Foster," said he, "we have no time to lose. Take Sam's arm and
+mine, and walk between us."
+
+The trio left the building and walked deliberately to the railroad. Not
+a word was spoken. Besides the men in sight on the train, two behind the
+window-blinds of the one passenger coach, and unseen, kept their fingers
+on the triggers of their repeating carbines. It seemed a long time,
+counted by anxious seconds, until Foster was safe in the coach.
+
+"All ready, conductor," said Sinclair. "Now, Foster, good-by. I am not
+good at lecturing, but if I were you, I would make this the
+turning-point in my life."
+
+Foster was much moved.
+
+"I will do it, Major," said he; "and I shall never forget what you have
+done for me to-day. I am sure we shall meet again."
+
+With another shriek from the whistle the train started. Sinclair and Sam
+saw the men quietly returning the firearms to their places as it
+gathered way. Then they walked back to their quarters. The men on the
+_mesa_, balked of their purpose, had withdrawn.
+
+Sam accompanied Sinclair to his door, and then sententiously remarked:
+"Major, I think I'll light out and find some of the boys. You ain't got
+no call to know anything about it, but I allow it's about time them
+cusses was bounced."
+
+Three nights after this, a powerful party of _Vigilantes_, stern and
+inexorable, made a raid on all the gambling dens, broke the tables and
+apparatus, and conducted the men to a distance from the town, where they
+left them with an emphatic and concise warning as to the consequences
+of any attempt to return. An exception was made in Jeff Johnson's
+case--but only for the sake of his daughter--for it was found that many
+a "little game" had been carried on in his house.
+
+Erelong he found it convenient to sell his business and retire to a town
+some miles to the eastward, where the railroad influence was not as
+strong as at Barker's. At about this time, Sinclair made his
+arrangements to go to New York, with the pleasant prospect of marrying
+the young lady in Fifth Avenue. In due time he arrived at Barker's with
+his young and charming wife and remained for some days. The changes were
+astounding. Common-place respectability had replaced abnormal
+lawlessness. A neat station stood where had been the rough contractor's
+buildings. At a new "Windsor" (or was it "Brunswick"?) the performance
+of the kitchen contrasted sadly (alas! how common is such contrast in
+these regions) with the promise of the _menu_. There was a tawdry
+theatre yclept "Academy of Music," and there was not much to choose in
+the way of ugliness between two "meeting-houses."
+
+"Upon my word, my dear," said Sinclair to his wife, "I ought to be
+ashamed to say it, but I prefer Barker's _au naturel_."
+
+One evening, just before the young people left the town, and as Mrs.
+Sinclair sat alone in her room, the frowsy waitress announced "a lady,"
+and was requested to bid her enter. A woman came with timid mien into
+the room, sat down, as invited, and removed her veil. Of course the
+young bride had never known Sally Johnson, the whilom belle of Barker's,
+but her husband would have noticed at a glance how greatly she was
+changed from the girl who walked with Foster past the engineers'
+quarters. It would be hard to find a more striking contrast than was
+presented by the two women as they sat facing each other: the one in the
+flush of health and beauty, calm, sweet, self-possessed; the other still
+retaining some of the shabby finery of old days, but pale and haggard,
+with black rings under her eyes, and a pathetic air of humiliation.
+
+"Mrs. Sinclair," she hurriedly began, "you do not know me, nor the like
+of me. I've got no right to speak to you, but I couldn't help it. Oh!
+please believe me, I am not real downright bad. I'm Sally Johnson,
+daughter of a man whom they drove out of the town. My mother died when I
+was little, and I _never_ had a show; and folks think because I live
+with my father, and he makes me know the crowd he travels with, that I
+must be in with them, and be of their sort. I never had a woman speak a
+kind word to me, and I've had so much trouble that I'm just drove wild,
+and like to kill myself; and then I was at the station when you came in,
+and I saw your sweet face and the kind look in your eyes, and it came in
+my heart that I'd speak to you if I died for it." She leaned eagerly
+forward, her hands nervously closing on the back of a chair. "I suppose
+your husband never told you of me; like enough he never knew me; but
+I'll never forget him as long as I live. When he was here before, there
+was a young man "--here a faint color came in the wan cheeks--"who was
+fond of me, and I thought the world of him, and my father was down on
+him, and the men that father was in with wanted to kill him; and Mr.
+Sinclair saved his life. He's gone away, and I've waited and waited for
+him to come back--and perhaps I'll never see him again. But oh! dear
+lady, I'll never forget what your husband did. He's a good man, and he
+deserves the love of a dear good woman like you, and if I dared, I'd
+pray for you both, night and day."
+
+She stopped suddenly and sank back in her seat, pale as before, and as
+if frightened by her own emotion. Mrs. Sinclair had listened with
+sympathy and increasing interest.
+
+"My poor girl," she said, speaking tenderly (she had a lovely, soft
+voice) and with slightly heightened color, "I am delighted that you came
+to see me, and that my husband was able to help you. Tell me, can we not
+do more for you? I do not for one moment believe you can be happy with
+your present surroundings. Can we not assist you to leave them?"
+
+The girl rose, sadly shaking her head. "I thank you for your words," she
+said. "I don't suppose I'll ever see you again, but I'll say, God bless
+you!"
+
+She caught Mrs. Sinclair's hand, pressed it to her lips, and was gone.
+
+Sinclair found his wife very thoughtful when he came home, and he
+listened with much interest to her story.
+
+"Poor girl!" said he; "Foster is the man to help her. I wonder where he
+is? I must inquire about him."
+
+The next day they proceeded on their way to San Francisco, and matters
+drifted on at Barker's much as before. Johnson had, after an absence of
+some months, come back and lived without molestation, amid the shifting
+population. Now and then, too, some of the older residents fancied they
+recognized, under slouched sombreros, the faces of some of his former
+"crowd" about the "Ranchman's Home," as his gaudy saloon was called.
+
+Late on the very evening on which this story opens, and they had been
+"making up" the Denver Express in the train-house on the Missouri, "Jim"
+Watkins, agent and telegrapher at Barker's, was sitting in his little
+office, communicating with the station rooms by the ticket window. Jim
+was a cool, silent, efficient man, and not much given to talk about such
+episodes in his past life as the "wiping out" by Indians of the
+construction party to which he belonged, and his own rescue by the
+scouts. He was smoking an old and favorite pipe, and talking with one of
+"the boys" whose head appeared at the wicket. On a seat in the station
+sat a woman in a black dress and veil, apparently waiting for a train.
+
+"Got a heap of letters and telegrams there, ain't year, Jim?" remarked
+the man at the window.
+
+"Yes," replied Jim; "they're for Engineer Sinclair, to be delivered to
+him when he passes through here. He left on No. 17, to-night." The
+inquirer did not notice the sharp start of the woman near him.
+
+"Is that good-lookin' wife of his'n a comin' with him?" asked he.
+
+"Yes, there's letters for her, too."
+
+"Well, good-night, Jim. See yer later," and he went out. The woman
+suddenly rose and ran to the window.
+
+"Mr. Watkins," cried she, "can I see you for a few moments, where no one
+can interrupt us? It's a matter of life and death." She clutched the
+sill with her thin hands, and her voice trembled. Watkins recognized
+Sally Johnson in a moment. He unbolted a door, motioned her to enter,
+closed and again bolted it, and also closed the ticket window. Then he
+pointed to a chair, and the girl sat down and leaned eagerly forward.
+
+"If they knew I was here," she said in a hoarse whisper, "my life
+wouldn't be safe five minutes. I was waiting to tell you a terrible
+story, and then I heard who was on the train due here to-morrow night.
+Mr. Watkins, don't, for God's sake, ask me how I found out, but I hope
+to die if I ain't telling you the living truth! They're going to wreck
+that train--No. 17--at Dead Man's Crossing, fifteen miles east, and rob
+the passengers and the express car. It's the worst gang in the country,
+_Perry's_. They're going to throw the train off the track the passengers
+will be maimed and killed,--and Mr. Sinclair and his wife on the cars!
+Oh! My God! Mr. Watkins, send them warning!"
+
+She stood upright, her face deadly pale, her hands clasped. Watkins
+walked deliberately to the railroad map which hung on the wall and
+scanned it. Then he resumed his seat, laid his pipe down, fixed his eyes
+on the girl's face, and began to question her. At the same time his
+right hand, with which he had held the pipe, found its way to the
+telegraph key. None but an expert could have distinguished any change in
+the _clicking_ of the instrument, which had been almost incessant; but
+Watkins had "called" the head office on the Missouri. In two minutes the
+"sounder" rattled out "_All right! What is it_?"
+
+Watkins went on with his questions, his eyes still fixed on the poor
+girl's face, and all the time his fingers, as it were, playing with the
+key. If he were imperturbable, so was _not_ a man sitting at a receiving
+instrument nearly five hundred miles away. He had "taken" but a few
+words when he jumped from his chair and cried:
+
+"Shut that door, and call the superintendent and be quick! Charley,
+brace up--lively--and come and write this out!" With his wonderful
+electric pen, the handle several hundred of miles long, Watkins,
+unknown to his interlocutor, was printing in the Morse alphabet this
+startling message:
+
+   "Inform'n rec'd. Perry gang going to throw No. 17 off
+   track near--xth mile-post, this division, about nine to-morrow
+   (Thursday) night, kill passengers, and rob express and mail.
+   Am alone here. No chance to verify story, but believe it to be
+   on square. Better make arrangements from your end to block
+   game. No Sheriff here now. Answer."
+
+The superintendent, responding to the hasty summons, heard the message
+before the clerk had time to write it out. His lips were closely
+compressed as he put his own hand on the key and sent these laconic
+sentences: "_O.K. Keep perfectly dark. Will manage from this end_."
+
+Watkins, at Barker's, rose from his seat, opened the door a little way,
+saw that the station was empty, and then said to the girl, brusquely,
+but kindly:
+
+"Sally, you've done the square thing, and saved that train. I'll take
+care that you don't suffer and that you get well paid. Now come home
+with me, and my wife will look out for you."
+
+"Oh! no," cried the girl, shrinking back, "I must run away. You're
+mighty kind, but I daren't go with you." Detecting a shade of doubt in
+his eye, she added: "Don't be afeared; I'll die before they'll know I've
+given them away to you!" and she disappeared in the darkness.
+
+At the other end of the wire, the superintendent had quietly impressed
+secrecy on his operator and clerk ordered his fast mare harnessed, and
+gone to his private office.
+
+"Read that!" said he to his secretary, "it was about time for some
+trouble of this kind, and now I'm going to let Uncle Sam take care of
+his mails. If I don't get to the reservation before the General's turned
+in, I shall have to wake him up. Wait for me, please."
+
+They gray mare made the six miles to the military reservation in just
+half an hour. The General was smoking his last _cigar_, and was alert in
+an instant; and before the superintendent had finished the jorum of "hot
+Scotch" hospitably tendered, the orders had gone by wire to the
+commanding officer at Fort----, some distance east of Barker's, and been
+duly acknowledged.
+
+Returning to the station, the superintendent remarked to the waiting
+secretary:
+
+"The General's all right. Of course we can't tell that this is not a
+sell; but if those Perry hounds mean business they'll get all the fight
+they want; and if they've got any souls--which I doubt--may the Lord
+have mercy on them!"
+
+He prepared several despatches, two of which were as follows:
+
+   "MR. HENRY SINCLAIR:
+
+   "On No. 17, Pawnee Junction:
+
+   This telegram your authority to take charge of train on which
+   you are, and demand obedience of all officials and trainmen on
+   road. Please do so, and act in accordance with information
+   wired station agent at Pawnee Junction."
+
+To the Station Agent:
+
+   "Reported Perry gang will try wreck and rob No. 17 near--xth
+   mile-post. Denver Division, about nine Thursday night
+   Troops will await train at Fort----. Car ordered ready for
+   them. Keep everything secret, and act in accordance with
+   orders of Mr. Sinclair."
+
+"It's worth about ten thousand dollars," sententiously remarked he,
+"that Sinclair's on that train. He's got both sand and brains.
+Good-night," and he went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+The sun never shone more brightly and the air was never more clear and
+bracing than when Sinclair helped his wife off the train at Pawnee
+Junction. The station-master's face fell as he saw the lady, but he
+saluted the engineer with as easy an air as he could assume, and watched
+for an opportunity to speak to him alone. Sinclair read the despatches
+with an unmoved countenance, and after a few minutes' reflection simply
+said: "All right. Be sure to keep the matter perfectly quiet." At
+breakfast he was _distrait_--so much so that his wife asked him what was
+the matter. Taking her aside, he at once showed her the telegrams.
+
+"You see my duty," he said. "My only thought is about you, my dear
+child. Will you stay here?"
+
+She simply replied, looking into his face without a tremor:
+
+"My place is with you." Then the conductor called "All aboard," and the
+train once more started.
+
+Sinclair asked Foster to join him in the smoking-compartment and tell
+him the promised story, which the latter did. His rescue at Barker's, he
+frankly and gratefully said, _had_ been the turning point in his life.
+In brief, he had "sworn-off" from gambling and drinking, had found
+honest employment, and was doing well.
+
+"I've two things to do now, Major," he added; "first, I must show my
+gratitude, to you; and next--" he hesitated a little--"I want to find
+that poor girl that I left behind at Barker's. She was engaged to marry
+me, and when I came to think of it, and what a life I'd have made her
+lead, I hadn't the heart till now to look for her; but, seeing I'm on
+the right track, I'm going to find her, and get her to come with me. Her
+father's a--old scoundrel, but that ain't her fault, and I ain't going
+to marry _him_."
+
+"Foster," quietly asked Sinclair, "do you know the Perry gang?"
+
+The man's brow darkened.
+
+"Know them?" said he. "I know them much too well. Perry is as ungodly a
+cutthroat as ever killed an emigrant in cold blood, and he's got in his
+gang nearly all those hounds that tried to hang me. Why do you ask,
+Major?"
+
+Sinclair handed him the despatches. "You are the only man on the train
+to whom I have shown them," said he.
+
+Foster read them slowly, his eyes lighting up as he did so. "Looks as if
+it was true," said he. "Let me see! Fort----. Yes, that's the--th
+infantry. Two of their boys were killed at Sidney last summer by some of
+the same gang, and the regiment's sworn vengeance. Major, if this
+story's on the square, that crowd's goose is cooked, and _don't you
+forget it_! I say, you must give me a hand in."
+
+"Foster," said Sinclair, "I am going to put responsibility on your
+shoulders. I have no doubt that, if we be attacked, the soldiers will
+dispose of the gang; but I must take all possible precautions for the
+safety of the passengers. We must not alarm them. They can be made to
+think that the troops are going on a scout, and only a certain number of
+resolute men need be told of what we expect. Can you, late this
+afternoon, go through the cars, and pick them out? I will then put you
+in charge of the passenger cars, and you can post your men on the
+platforms to act in case of need. My place will be ahead."
+
+"Major, you can depend on me," was Foster's reply. "I'll go through the
+train and have my eye on some boys of the right sort, and that's got
+their shooting-irons with them."
+
+Through the hours of that day on rolled the train, till over the crisp
+buffalo grass, across the well-worn buffalo trails, past the prairie-dog
+villages. The passengers chatted, dozed, played cards, read, all
+unconscious, with the exception of three, of the coming conflict between
+the good and the evil forces bearing on their fate; of the fell
+preparations making for their disaster; of the grim preparations making
+to avert such disaster; of all of which the little wires alongside of
+them had been talking back and forth. Watkins had telegraphed that he
+still saw no reason to doubt the good faith of his warning, and Sinclair
+had reported his receipt of authority and his acceptance thereof.
+Meanwhile, also, there had been set in motion a measure of that power to
+which appeal is so reluctantly made in time of peace. At Fort----, a
+lonely post on the plains, the orders had that morning been issued for
+twenty men under Lieutenant Halsey to parade at 4 P.M., with overcoats,
+two days' rations, and ball cartridges; also for Assistant Surgeon
+Kesler to report for duty with the party. Orders as to destination were
+communicated direct to the lieutenant from the post commander, and on
+the minute the little column moved, taking the road to the station. The
+regiment from which it came had been in active service among the Indians
+on the frontier for a long time, and the officers and men were tried and
+seasoned fighters. Lieutenant Halsey had been well known at the West
+Point balls as the "leader of the german." From the last of these balls
+he had gone straight to the field and three years had given him an
+enviable reputation for _sang froid_ and determined bravery. He looked
+every inch the soldier as he walked along the trail, his cloak thrown
+back and his sword tucked under his arm. The doctor, who carried a Modoc
+bullet in some inaccessible part of his scarred body, growled
+good-naturedly at the need of walking, and the men, enveloped in their
+army-blue overcoats, marched easily by fours. Reaching the station, the
+lieutenant called the agent aside and with him inspected, on a siding, a
+long platform on which benches had been placed and secured. Then he took
+his seat in the station and quietly waited, occasionally twisting his
+long blond mustache. The doctor took a cigar with the agent, and the men
+walked about or sat on the edge of the platform. One of them, who
+obtained a surreptitious glance at his silent commander, told his
+companions that there was trouble ahead for somebody.
+
+"That's just the way the leftenant looked, boys," said he, "when we was
+laying for them Apaches that raided Jones's Ranch and killed the women
+and little children."
+
+In a short time the officer looked at his watch, formed his men, and
+directed them to take their places on the seats of the car. They had
+hardly done so, when the whistle of the approaching train was heard.
+When it came up, the conductor, who had his instructions from Sinclair,
+had the engine detached and backed on the siding for the soldiers'
+which thus came between it and the foremost baggage-car, when the train
+was again made up. As arranged, it was announced that the troops were to
+be taken a certain distance to join a scouting party, and the curiosity
+of the passengers was but slightly excited. The soldiers sat quietly in
+their seats, their repeating rifles held between their knees, and the
+officer in front. Sinclair joined the latter, and had a few words with
+him as the train moved on. A little later, when the stars were shining
+brightly overhead, they passed into the express-car, and sent for the
+conductor and other trainmen, and for Foster. In a few words Sinclair
+explained the position of affairs. His statement was received with
+perfect coolness, and the men only asked what they were to do.
+
+"I hope, boys," said Sinclair, "that we are going to put this gang
+to-night where they will make no more trouble. Lieutenant Halsey will
+bear the brunt of the fight, and it only remains for you to stand by the
+interests committed to your care. Mr. Express Agent, what help do you
+want?" The person addressed, a good-natured giant, girded with a
+cartridge belt, smiled as he replied:
+
+"Well, sir, I'm wearing a watch which the company gave me for standing
+off the James gang in Missouri for half an hour, when we hadn't the
+ghost of a soldier about. I'll take the contract, and welcome, to hold
+_this_ fort alone."
+
+"Very well," said Sinclair. "Foster, progress have you made?"
+
+"Major, I've got ten or fifteen as good men as ever drew a bead, and
+just red-hot for a fight."
+
+"That will do very well. Conductor, give the trainmen the rifles from
+the baggage-car and let them act under Mr. Foster. Now, boys, I am sure
+you will do your duty. That is all."
+
+From the next station Sinclair telegraphed "All ready" to the
+superintendent, who was pacing his office in much suspense. Then he said
+a few words to his brave but anxious wife, and walked to the rear
+platform. On it were several armed men, who bade him good-evening, and
+asked "when the fun was going to begin." Walking through the train, he
+found each platform similarly occupied, and Foster going from one to the
+other. The latter whispered as he passed him:
+
+"Major, I found Arizona Joe, the scout, in the smokin'-car, and he's on
+the front platform. That lets me out, and although I know as well as you
+that there ain't any danger about that rear sleeper where the madam is,
+I ain't a-going to be far off from her." Sinclair shook him by the hand;
+then he looked at his watch. It was half-past eight. He passed through
+the baggage and express cars, finding in the latter the agent sitting
+behind his safe, on which lay two large revolvers. On the platform-car
+he found the soldiers and their commander, sitting silent and
+unconcerned as before. When Sinclair reached the latter and nodded, he
+rose and faced the men, and his fine voice was clearly heard above the
+rattle of the train.
+
+"Company, 'ten_tion_!" The soldiers straightened themselves in a second.
+
+"With ball cartridge, _load_!" It was done with the precision of a
+machine. Then the lieutenant spoke, in the same clear, crisp tones that
+the troops had heard in more than one fierce battle.
+
+"Men," said he, "in a few minutes the Perry gang, which you will
+remember, are going to try to run this train off the track, wound and
+kill the passengers, and rob the cars and the United States mail. It is
+our business to prevent them. Sergeant Wilson" (a gray-bearded
+non-commissioned officer stood up and saluted), "I am going on the
+engine. See that my orders are repeated. Now, men, aim low, and don't
+waste any shots." He and Sinclair climbed over the tender and spoke to
+the engine-driver.
+
+"How are the air-brakes working?" asked Sinclair.
+
+"First-rate."
+
+"Then, if you slow down now, you could stop the train in a third of her
+length, couldn't you?"
+
+"Easy, if you don't mind being shaken up a bit."
+
+"That is good. How is the country about the--xth mile-post?"
+
+"Dead level, and smooth."
+
+"Good again. Now, Lieutenant Halsey, this is a splendid head-light, and
+we can see a long way with my night glass, I will have a--"
+
+"--2d mile-post just passed," interrupted the engine-driver.
+
+"Only one more to pass, then, before we ought to strike them. Now,
+lieutenant, I undertake to stop the train within a very short distance
+of the gang. They will be on both sides of the track no doubt; and the
+ground, as you hear, is quite level You will best know what to do."
+
+The officer stepped back. "Sergeant," called he, "do you hear me
+plainly?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Have the men fix bayonets. When the train stops, and I wave my sword,
+let half jump off each side, run up quickly, and form line _abreast of
+the engine_--not ahead."
+
+"Jack," said Sinclair to the engine-driver, "is your hand steady?" The
+man held it up with a smile. "Good. Now, stand by your throttle and your
+air-brake. Lieutenant, better warn the men to hold on tight, and tell
+the sergeant to pass the word to the boys on the platforms, or they will
+be knocked off by the sudden stop. Now for a look ahead!" and he brought
+the binocular to his eyes.
+
+The great parabolic head-light illuminated the track a long way in
+advance, all behind it being of course in darkness. Suddenly Sinclair
+cried out:
+
+"The fools have a light there, as I am a living man; and there is a
+little red one near us. What can that be? All ready. Jack! By heavens!
+they have taken up two rails. Now, _hold on, all_! STOP HER!!"
+
+The engine-driver shut his throttle-valve with a jerk. Then, holding
+hard by it, he sharply turned a brass handle. There was a fearful
+jolt--a grating--and the train's way was checked. The lieutenant,
+standing sidewise, had drawn his sword. He waved it, and almost before
+he could get off the engine, the soldiers were up and forming, still in
+shadow, while the bright light was thrown on a body of men ahead.
+
+"Surrender, or you are dead men!" roared the officer. Curses and several
+shots were the reply. Then came the orders, quick and sharp:
+
+"_Forward! Close rip! Double-quick! Halt_! FIRE!"
+
+It was speedily over. Left on the car with the men, the old sergeant had
+said:
+
+"Boys, you hear. It's that ---- Perry gang. Now, don't forget Larry and
+Charley that they murdered last year," and there had come from the
+soldiers a sort of fierce, subdued _growl_. The volley was followed by a
+bayonet charge, and it required all the officer's authority to save the
+lives even of those who "threw up their hands." Large as the gang was
+(outnumbering the troops), well armed and desperate as they were, every
+one was dead, wounded, or a prisoner when the men who guarded the train
+platforms ran up. The surgeon, with professional coolness, walked up to
+the robbers, his instrument case under his arm.
+
+"Not much for me to do here, Lieutenant," said he. "That practice for
+Creedmoor is telling on the shooting. Good thing for the gang, too.
+Bullets are better than rope, and a Colorado jury will give them plenty
+of that."
+
+Sinclair had sent a man to tell his wife that all was over. Then he
+ordered a fire lighted, and the rails relaid. The flames lit a strange
+scene as the passengers flocked up. The lieutenant posted men to keep
+them back.
+
+"Is there a telegraph station not far ahead Sinclair?" asked he. "Yes?
+All right." He drew a small pad from his pocket, and wrote a despatch to
+the post commander.
+
+"Be good enough to send that for me," said he "and leave orders at
+Barker's for the night express eastward to stop for us, and to bring a
+posse to take care of the wounded and prisoners. And now, my dear
+Sinclair, I suggest that you get the passengers into the cars, and go on
+as soon as those rails are spiked. When they realize the situation, some
+of them will feel precious ugly, and you know we can't have any
+lynching."
+
+Sinclair glanced at the rails and gave the word at once to the conductor
+and brakemen, who began vociferating, "All aboard!" Just then Foster
+appeared, an expression of intense satisfaction showing clearly on his
+face, in the firelight.
+
+"Major," said he, "I didn't use to take much stock in special
+Providence, or things being ordered; but I'm darned if I don't believe
+in them from this day. I was bound to stay where you put me, but I was
+uneasy, and wild to be in the scrimmage; and, if I had been there, I
+wouldn't have taken notice of a little red light that wasn't much
+behind the rear platform when we stopped. When I saw there was no danger
+there, I ran back, and what do you think I found? There was a woman, in
+a dead faint, and just clutching a lantern that she had tied up in a red
+scarf, poor little thing! And, Major, it was Sally! It was the little
+girl that loved me out at Barker's, and has loved me and waited for me
+ever since! And when she came to, and knew me, she was so glad she 'most
+fainted away again; and she let on as it was her that gave away the job.
+And I took her into the sleeper, and the madam, God bless her!--she knew
+Sally before and was good to her--she took care of her, and is cheering
+her up. And now, Major, I'm going to take her straight to Denver, and
+send for a parson and get her married to me, and she'll brace up, sure
+pop."
+
+The whistle sounded, and the train started. From the window of the
+"sleeper" Sinclair and his wife took their last look at the weird scene.
+The lieutenant, standing at the side of the track, wrapped in his cloak,
+caught a glimpse of Mrs. Sinclair's pretty face, and returned her bow.
+Then, as the car passed out of sight, he tugged at his mustache and
+hummed:
+
+   "Why, boys, why,
+     Should we be melancholy, boys,
+   Whose business 'tis to die?"
+
+In less than an hour, telegrams having in the mean time been sent in
+both directions, the train ran alongside the platform at Barker's; and;
+Watkins, inperturbable as usual, met Sinclair, and gave him his letters.
+
+"Perry gang wiped out, I hear, Major," said he "Good thing for the
+country. That's a lesson the 'toughs' in these parts won't forget for a
+long time. Plucky girl that give 'em away, wasn't she. Hope she's all
+right."
+
+"She is all right," said Sinclair, with a smile.
+
+"Glad of that. By-the-way, that father of her'n passed in his checks
+to-night. He'd got one warning from the Vigilantes, and yesterday they
+found out he was in with this gang, and they was a-going for him; but
+when the telegram come, he put a pistol to his head and saved them all
+trouble. Good riddance to everybody, I say. The sheriff's here now, and
+is going east on the next train to get them fellows. He's got a big
+posse together, and I wouldn't wonder if they was hard to hold in, after
+the 'boys in blue' is gone."
+
+In a few minutes the train was off, with its living freight--the just
+and the unjust, the reformed and the rescued, the happy and the anxious.
+With many of the passengers the episode of the night was already a thing
+of the past. Sinclair sat by the side of his wife, to whose cheeks the
+color had all come back; and Sally Johnson lay in her berth, faint
+still, but able to give an occasional smile to Foster. In the station on
+the Missouri the reporters were gathered about the happy superintendent,
+smoking his cigars, and filling their note-books with items. In Denver,
+their brethren would gladly have done the same, but Watkins failed to
+gratify them. He was a man of few words. When the train had gone, and a
+friend remarked:
+
+"Hope they'll get through all right, now," he simply said:
+
+"Yes, likely. Two shots don't 'most always go in the same hole." Then he
+went to the telegraph instrument. In a few minutes he could have told a
+story as wild as a Norse _saga_, but what he said, when Denver had
+responded, was only--
+
+_"No. 17, fifty-five minutes late."_
+
+
+
+
+THE MISFORTUNES OF BRO' THOMAS WHEATLEY.
+
+By LINA REDWOOD FAIRFAX.
+
+
+He is our office-boy and messenger, and, my senior tells me, has been
+employed by the firm in this capacity for about thirty years. He is a
+negro, about sixty years old, rather short and stout, with a mincing,
+noiseless gait, broad African features, beautiful teeth, and small,
+round, twinkling eyes, the movements of which are accompanied by little
+abrupt, sidewise turns of the head, like a bird. His manner is a curious
+mixture of deference and self-importance, his voice a soft, sibilant
+whisper, and as he was born and bred in Alexandria, Virginia, it seems
+almost superfluous to add that he and the letter "r" are not on speaking
+terms.
+
+He has a prominent characteristic, which always attracts attention at
+first sight. This is the shape of his head, which is immensely large in
+proportion, very bald, and so abundant in various queer, knobby
+excrescences about the forehead and sides, and so unnaturally long and
+level on top, that for some time after I made his acquaintance I could
+never see him without finding myself forming absurd conjectures as to
+whether his cranium and the hydrostatic press could ever have become
+acquainted at some early period of his life; and so strong is this
+association of ideas that, even now, his sudden appearance invariably
+suggests to me the study of natural philosophy. Poor fellow! his chagrin
+was great when this peculiar conformation of his skull was first brought
+to his notice. He had been telling me for some time past of the
+"splendid piccha" he had had "took," and I had been promised a sight of
+it just as soon as it arrived from the photographer's. I confess I had
+not been sanguine as to the result, although I knew a handsome portrait
+was confidently expected by the sitter. One morning he deposited the
+photograph before me.
+
+"Hello!" I cried, taking it in my hand; "here you are, hit off to the
+life."
+
+"Do' say _that_, Mist' Dunkin, _do_' say hit, seh," he replied, in a
+tone of deep mortification. Then, catching a glimpse of the picture, his
+ire broke forth: "Nevvah wuz like _me_ in de wueld," he cried, in an
+elevated key; "nevvah _wuz_ ha'f so ugly ez that. I'm--I'm a
+bettah-lookin' man, Mist' Dunkin. Why, look at de color of de thing,"
+contemptuously. "Cain' tell de face f'om de coat I nevvah set up to be
+what you'd call _faih_-cumplectid, but disha things iss same is that
+thaih ink; jess iss same. My hade do' look that a way, neitha. Naw,
+_seh_, 'taint s' bad 's that."
+
+"Why, Thomas," said I, "_I_ think it a very good likeness--the
+complexion _is_ a little dark to be sure, but do you know I particularly
+admire the head. Look at that forehead; any one can see that you are a
+man of intellect. I tell you it isn't every one who can boast of such a
+forehead."
+
+"The--the 'mahk you make 'bout me, has been made 'fo'; I may say, has
+been made quite frequent--quite frequent; on'y lass Tuesd'y fohtni't,
+Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins--a promnunt membeh of ouh class (that is, Asba'y
+class, meets on Gay Street), Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins, she ups an' sez,
+befo' de whole class, dat she'd puppose de motion, dat Bro' Thomas
+Wheatley wuz 'p'inted fus' speakah in de nex' 'Jug-breakin' an'
+Jaymiah's Hamma,' by de i-nanemous vote of de class. I'm clah to say I
+wuz 'stonished; but ahta class wuz ovvva, Bro' Moss tole me de
+'p'intment wuz made jes' f'on de 'peahunce of my hade, ''Cause,' he sez,
+'no man cain't be a po' speakah with sich a fine intellec' which we see
+expressed in de hade of Bro' Thomas Wheatley--but, same time, I knowed
+all time de fus' motion come f'om Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins--she's a ve'y
+good friend o' mine, Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins--thinks a sight o' me; I
+'scohts heh to class ev'y Tuesd'y--ev'y Tuesd'y, sine die."
+
+"You do? What does your wife have to say to that?" I asked,
+maliciously.
+
+He stared at me an instant, then replied:
+
+"My wife!--oh--oh, Law bless yoh soul, seh, _she_ do' keeh. Bro'
+'Dolphus Beam, _he_ sees ahta heh: you see, seh, she's I-o-n-g way
+'moved f'om Asba'y class; 'twont admit none but fus'-class
+'speience-givvahs in Asba'y, an' my wife she wa'n't nevvah no han' to
+talk; haint got de gif' of de tongue which Saul, suhname Paul, speaks of
+in de Scripcheh--don't possess hit, seh."
+
+"She must be a very nice person to live with," I remarked.
+
+"Well, y-e-es, seh," replied Thomas, after reflecting awhile. "I hain't
+got nuth'n' 'g'in' Ailse; she's quite, an' ohdaly, a good cook, an'
+laundriss, an' she's a lady,[1] an' all that, but sh' ain't not to say
+what you'd call a giftid 'oman."
+
+"Like Sister Mary Ann Jinkins, eh?"
+
+"_Egg_-zac'ly, seh. Mist' Dunkin, you put hit kehrec', seh. Ailse hain't
+possessed with none of the high talence, cain't exhoht, naw sing with
+fehveh, naw yit lead in praieh; heh talence is mos'ly boun' up in
+napkins--as Scripcheh say--mos'ly boun' up in napkins; foh I do' deny
+she kin do up all kines o' table-linen, she kin indeed. Naw, seh, I
+cain't say I got nuth'n' 'g'in' Ailse."
+
+He was, I think, the worst manager of finances that I have ever known.
+He cleaned all the offices in our building, and earned, as near as I
+could estimate, about thirty-five dollars a month. Three of his four
+children were self-supporting, and his wife was honest and industrious,
+taking in washing, and getting well paid for her work. Yet, he was
+perpetually in debt, and his wages were always overdrawn. Whenever I
+came into the office after my two-o'clock lunch, and found him seated on
+his wooden chair, in the corner, gazing absently out at the dingy
+chimneys opposite--apparently too abstracted to observe my entrance, I
+knew I had only to go to my desk to find, placed in a conspicuous
+position thereon, a very small, dirty bit of paper, with these words
+laboriously inscribed upon it: "Mr. Dunkin Sir cen you oblidge me with
+the sum of three dolers an a half [or whatever the sum might be] an
+deduc thee same from mi salry i em in grate kneed of thee same yours mos
+respecfull thomas wheatley."
+
+The form was always the same, my name in imposing capitals and the
+remainder in the very smallest letters which he could coax his stiff old
+fingers to make, and all written on the tiniest scrap of writing-paper.
+I think his object was to impress me with his humiliation,
+impecuniosity, and general low condition, because as soon as he received
+the money--which he always did, I vowing to myself each time that this
+advance should be the last, and as regularly breaking my vow--he would
+tip-toe carefully to the mantel-piece, get down his pen and ink, borrow
+my sand-bottle, and proceed to indite me a letter of acknowledgment.
+This written, he would present it with a sweeping bow, and then retire
+precipitately to his corner, chuckling, and perspiring profusely. He
+usually preferred foolscap for these documents, and the capitals were
+numerous and imposing. Like the others, however, they were invariably
+word for word the same, and were couched in the following terms:
+
+   "MR. DUNKIN
+    "SIR I have Recieved thee Sum of Three Dolers an a half
+   from Your hans an I Recieve thee same with Joy an Grattetude.
+                              "Yours respecfull
+                                     "THOMAS WHEATLEY."
+
+I said his applications for money were always granted. I must, however,
+make an exception, which, after all, will only go to prove the rule. One
+bright morning he met me at the office-door, his face as beaming as the
+weather. He hardly waited for me to doff my overcoat and hat, when he
+announced that he had bought a second-hand parlor organ the evening
+before, on credit, for seventy-five dollars, to be paid in instalments
+of twelve dollars and a half each. He had been very hard up for a month
+past, as I had abundant occasion to know, and it was therefore with a
+feeling rather stronger than surprise, that I received the announcement
+of this purchase.
+
+"But you haven't fifty cents toward paying for it. And what on earth can
+you possibly want with a parlor organ? Can you play?--can any of your
+family play?"
+
+"Well, naw, seh," scratching his head reflectively. "I cain't s'ay they
+_kin_ not to say _play_"--as if they were all taking lessons, and
+expected to become proficient at some not far distant day. "In fac',
+seh, none on um knows a wued o' music. I didn't mean, seh, I didn't
+'tend the--the instrument fu' househol' puhpasses--I--I 'tended hit as a
+off'in' to ouh Sabbath-school. We--we has no instrument at present,
+an'--"
+
+I am afraid I uttered a very bad word at this juncture. Thomas started,
+and retired in great discomfiture, and I thought I had made an end of
+the matter, but that afternoon I found the small scrap of paper on my
+desk--really, I think, with a little practice, Thomas might hope to
+rival the man who goes about writing the Lord's Prayer in the space of
+half a dollar. My name was in larger capitals, the rest in smaller
+letters, than usual, and I was requested "to oblidge him with the sum of
+twelve dolers an' a half." I knew then that the first organ-instalment
+was due, but I think it needless to add, his application was refused.
+About a week afterward, I learned that the Sabbath-school was again
+without a musical instrument, the organ having been pawned for twenty
+dollars, Thomas paying ten per cent a month on the money. It was so with
+everything he undertook. Once he gave me elaborate warning that I must
+furnish myself with another messenger at once, as he was going to make
+a fortune peddling oranges and apples. Accordingly, he bought a barrel
+(!) of each kind of fruit, sold half at reasonable rates, and then, the
+remainder beginning to decay on his hands, he came to me, offering
+really fine Havana oranges at a cent apiece.
+
+"I'm driffin' 'em off et coss--driffin' 'em off et coss," he whispered,
+speaking rapidly, and waving his hands about, oriental fashion, the
+palms turned outward and the fingers twirling; this peculiar gesture
+seemed intended to indicate the cheapness of his wares. "Dey coss me
+mo'n that; heap mo', but I'm faih to lose um all now, en I'm driffin'
+'em off, sine die."
+
+After that, some dozen or more of the large wholesale houses engaged him
+to furnish their counting-rooms with lunch, and he began with brilliant
+prospects. He brought his basket around to me for first choice.
+Everything was very nice; a clean new basket, covered with a white
+cloth, wherein lay piles of neatly arranged packages done up in
+letter-paper, with a strange-looking character inscribed upon each.
+
+"What do these letters mean?" I asked, taking up one of the packages,
+and trying in vain to decipher the cabalistic sign upon it.
+
+Thomas chuckled.
+
+"Oh, that's to show de kine of san'wich dey is, Mist' Dunkin. You see,
+seh, I got th'ee kines--so I put 'B' on de beef, 'H' on de _hahm_, an' I
+stahtid to put 'H' on de hystehs too, but den I foun' I couldn't tell
+de _hystehs_ f'om de _hahm_, so den I put 'H I' on de hystehs."
+
+"Oh, I see," said I, opening one of the "hysteh" packages. It was very
+good; an excellent French roll, well spread with choice butter, and two
+large, nicely fried oysters between. I ate it speedily, took another,
+and, that disposed of, asked the price.
+
+"Ten cents, seh."
+
+"For two!"
+
+"Yes, seh; fi' cents 'piece."
+
+"Why, Thomas," I exclaimed, "you mustn't begin by asking five cents
+apiece; you'll ruin yourself. These things are _worth_ at least twice as
+much money. Why, I pay ten cents for a sandwich at an eating-house, and
+it doesn't begin to have as good materials in it as yours. You ought to
+ask more."
+
+"Naw, seh; naw, seh; Mist' Dunkin; as' less, an' sell mo'--that's my
+motteh. I have all dese yeah clean sole out 'fo' two 'clock--clean sole
+out 'fo' two 'clock."
+
+I interrupted him, asking the cost of each article, and then proving to
+him by calculation that he lost money on each sandwich he sold at five
+cents. But I could not convince him--he received the twenty-five cents
+which I insisted on paying him with many expressions of gratitude, but
+he left me reiterating his belief in "quick sales and small profits."
+"Be back yeah clean sole out by two 'clock, sine die," he exclaimed,
+brightly, as he departed.
+
+This venture brought him six dollars in debt at the expiration of a
+fortnight, and after that, by my advice, he abandoned peddling,
+condemning it as a "low-life trade," and agreeing to stick to legitimate
+business for the future.
+
+One of his famous expressions, the most formidable rival of _sine die_
+(which, as the reader has doubtless discovered, he intended as an
+elegant synonym for _without fail_), was entirely original--this was
+"Granny to Mash" (I spell phonetically), used as an exclamation, and
+only employed when laboring under great mental excitement.
+
+As I was proceeding homeward one evening, I spied him standing on a
+street corner, holding forth to a select assemblage of his own color,
+who were listening to him with an appearance of the profoundest respect.
+His back was toward me, and I stopped and caught his words without
+attracting observation. He had assumed a very pompous, hortatory manner,
+and I could well believe he held a prominent position in Asbury class.
+"Yes, gentlemun; yes," he was saying, "ez Brotheh Jones 'mahks, I _do_
+live in a ve'y _su_-peeiaw at-mos-pheeh--suh-roundid by people of
+leahnin', with books, pens, blottehs, letteh-pess, _en_ what not, ez
+common ez these yeah bricks which I see befo' me. But thaih hain't no
+trueh wued then ev'y station has its hawdships, gentlemun, en mine ah
+not exemp', mine ah _not_ exemp'.
+
+"Fus'ly, thaih's the 'sponsebility. W'y, this yeah ve'y mawnin' I banked
+nigh on to a thousan' dollehs fu' de young boss. En w'en I tell you
+mo'n two hundred stamps is passed my mouth this yeah blessid evenin', 't
+will give you some slight idee of the magnitude of the duties I has to
+puffawn. W'y, gentlemun, I is drank wateh, an' I is drank beeh, but my
+mouth hain't got back hits right moistuh yit."
+
+The day of the 20th of July, 1877, was very quiet We had heard, of
+course, of the "strikes" all over the country, and the morning papers
+brought tidings of the trouble with the Baltimore and Ohio railroad
+employés at Martinsburg, but no serious difficulty was apprehended in
+Baltimore.
+
+That afternoon I was detained very late at the office. I intended
+beginning a three weeks' holiday next morning, and was trying to get
+beforehand with my work. My senior was out of town, and Thomas and I had
+been very busy since three o'clock--I writing, he copying the letters.
+After five, we had the building pretty much to ourselves, and a little
+after half past five, the fire alarm sounded. The City Hall bell was
+very distinctly heard, and Thomas--who had finished his work and was
+waiting to take some papers to the office of the Baltimore and Ohio
+Railroad for me--took down a list of the different stations, to
+ascertain the whereabouts of the fire.
+
+"1--5," he counted, as the strokes fell; "that makes fifteen, and that
+is," passing his finger slowly down the card, "that is Eastun Po-lice
+station, cawneh--naw, _on_ Bank Street. On Bank Street, seh."
+
+I listened an instant.
+
+"1--5--1," I said, "151; it isn't fifteen."
+
+Another five minutes elapsed, while he searched for "151" I busily
+writing the while.
+
+"Hit's--w'y, Lawd-a-massy! Mist' Dunkin, hit's fu' de milinte'y."
+
+"Let me see," said I. "Yes, so it is; but they only want them to go to
+Cumberland. There's a strike there, and the strikers are getting
+troublesome."
+
+He made no reply, and as the bells ceased ringing soon afterward, I
+resumed my work, which kept me busy until seven o'clock. I then placed
+the papers in an envelope, and took up the letters.
+
+"Be sure you see the Vice-President himself, Thomas," I said. "You know
+him, don't you?"
+
+Receiving no reply, and turning to ascertain the cause of his silence, I
+saw he was leaning out at the open window, gazing earnestly northward
+toward Baltimore Street.
+
+"Thomas! Thomas!" I shouted.
+
+He heard me at last, and withdrawing his head, apologized for his
+inattention.
+
+"I thought--I heehed sup'n nutha like a hollehin' kine of a noise,
+an'--some guns, aw sup'n, an' I wuz look'n' to see, but thaih don't
+'peah to be nuthin' goin' on."
+
+"They're mending the railroad on Baltimore Street," I said. "I suppose
+that is what you heard." And I gave the papers into his hand repeating
+my directions: "If the gentleman is not there, don't leave them on any
+account. I'll wait here until you get back--but go first to the
+post-office and mail these."
+
+He wrapped the papers carefully in his handkerchief, placed them in his
+vest-pocket, and started off.
+
+After he left, I leaned my elbow on the dusty window-sill and lounged
+there awhile, watching him as he trotted busily down the deserted
+street; then, rousing myself, I stretched my weary limbs and set about
+arranging my desk, closing the safe, etc. At last everything was put in
+order, and I seated myself in an arm-chair, rubbing my cramped fingers
+and wrist, and afterward consulting my watch, more for something to do
+than to ascertain the time, which the clock on the mantel-piece would
+have told me.
+
+Only quarter past seven, and he might be detained until, half-past
+eight. I leaned back and closed my eyes. How still and hot it was! I
+believe I was the only human being in that whole long block of big
+buildings on that July evening. Everything was as quiet as the typical
+country churchyard. I had a lethargic sense now and then of the far-off
+tinkle of a car-bell. I could catch a distant rumble from a passing
+vehicle a block or two away. And, yes, I _did_ observe the presence of a
+dull, continuous drone, which proceeded from the direction of Baltimore
+Street, but just as I sat up to hearken, some one passing whistled,
+"Silver Threads among the Gold," the melody tracing itself upon the
+stillness like phosphoric letters in a dark room. I listened with vivid
+interest, but the tune presently grew fainter, faded, and was dissolved
+into the dusk, leaving me lonelier than before, and too sleepy to give
+my attention to the strange hum, of which I again became dully
+conscious. It is tiresome work waiting here with nothing to do, was my
+last drowsy thought, as I folded my arms on the desk, and rested my head
+upon them, to be aroused by a knocking at my door.
+
+"Come in," I called.
+
+The door creaked on its hinges, and somebody entered. I waited an
+instant, when an adolescent voice of the colored persuasion asked:
+
+"Do somebody name Mist' Dunkin live here?"
+
+"Yes. I'm here; what do you want?"
+
+"Dey wan's you down-y street."
+
+I stretched myself, reached mechanically for a match, and lighted the
+gas, which disclosed a small yellow boy, standing in the doorway, some
+fright and a good deal of excitement in his aspect. I then detected that
+he had something important to tell, and that his errand was a source of
+gratification to him.
+
+"Well, what is it?" I asked, after we had stared at one another.
+
+"Ain't yer yeared nuth'n' 'tall?" a shade of contempt in his tone.
+
+"No, what is there to hear?" I asked, rather irascibly.
+
+"Dey's a big fight down-town; de folks dey done tore de Six Reggimen'
+all ter pieces, an' dey's wuk'n 'long on de Fif now."
+
+"Whereabouts?"
+
+I started up, and got on my hat in an instant.
+
+"Dey's et Camd' Street depot, now. Ole colored gentlemun he's been
+hurtid, an' sent me atter you."
+
+It did not take half a minute to lock the door and we proceeded
+down-stairs together.
+
+"He's down yere on Eutaw Street," continued my informant. "Dey's
+fightin' all 'long dere--I come nigh gittin' hit myself--_he_ gimme ten
+cents to come tell yer--maybe he's done dade now," he added, cheerfully,
+as we gained the street, and began to walk.
+
+"Dey fet all 'long yere," was his next breathless remark, made some time
+later. We were now proceeding rapidly up Baltimore Street, as rapidly,
+at least, as people can who are pushing against a steady stream of
+agitated humanity. "Dey fawr'd a bullet clean through de Sun-paper
+room," pursued the boy, "an' dey bust up dem dere winder-glassis--"
+
+Pausing involuntarily to look, I caught stray scraps of additional
+information.
+
+"Twenty-five people killed."
+
+"As many as that?"
+
+"Oh, yes; fully, I should say. The Sixth fired right into the crowd,
+all along from Gay to Eutaw Street."
+
+"Well, I hear the Sixth are pretty well cleaned out by this time, so
+it's tit for tat."
+
+Then--
+
+"The Fifth must be there now--"
+
+"The Fifth?--what are they--two hundred men against two thousand?--Lord
+knows how it will end. I hope this old town won't be burnt, that's all."
+The boy, listening, turned fearfully around, looking with distended eyes
+into mine. "Come on," I responded, and we spoke no more until we reached
+Liberty Street. Then, all at once, above the street noises--the rumbling
+of fugitive vehicles, the jingle of street-cars, and the hum of excited
+voices--rose a deep, hollow roar; a horrible sound of human menace in
+it, which was distinguishable even at that distance. The boy pressed
+closer, clutching timidly at my hand.
+
+"Is yer--is yer gwine ter keep on?" he faltered.
+
+"De ole gentlemun, he 'lowed puticler you wa'n't to run no resk 'count
+o' him."
+
+"Where _is_ he?" I asked. "In the thick of it?"
+
+"No, sir; he's lay'n' down in a little alley--clean off d' street."
+
+"Come on, then; you'll have to show me where it is. I won't let you get
+hurt."
+
+When we first wheeled into South Eutaw Street, I was conscious of an
+almost painful stillness, more noticeable after the tumult of confused
+sounds from which we had just emerged. The houses either side were fast
+closed, doors and windows Some of them were even unlighted, and not
+vehicle was in sight. The street was partially unpaved, where new
+gas-pipes had been laid, and piles of paving-stones were heaped on the
+edge of the sidewalks. The place seemed deserted.
+
+But presently, far down in the immediate vicinity of the depot, I
+perceived accumulated a dense, dark mass, like a low-hanging cloud, from
+which a low hoarse murmur seemed to proceed. It swayed slightly from
+side to side, with the inevitable motion of a large crowd, while at the
+same time it kept well within certain bounds. We walked quickly along,
+block after block, without encountering a single soul. I had been so
+engrossed with the dark, muttering pulsation in front, that I failed to
+attend to the sounds from behind, until the boy, jerking my hand, bade
+me listen to the drum. I heard it then plainly, as soon as he spoke, and
+the approaching tramp of disciplined feet was soon after distinctly
+audible. I turned and looked. The Fifth Regiment was marching down the
+middle of North Eutaw Street, having not yet crossed Baltimore Street,
+the drum corps in front, the colors flying, and crowding the sidewalks
+on either hand was a motley van and bodyguard, consisting of street
+loafers and half-grown boys, who had come along to see the "fun," and
+whose sympathies were plainly with the rioters. The foremost of these
+soon reached the spot where I stood, and as I drew aside to let them
+pass, I heard a _gamin_ say to his neighbor:
+
+"I say, Bill, these yere putty little soldier-boys hadn't better make
+ther las' will an' testyment--ain't it?'"
+
+"I dunno 'bout that," replied the other, a veteran of fourteen, who was
+chewing tobacco, and whom I recognized as a certain one-eyed newsboy.
+
+"These yere men hez fought in the late war, yer see, plenty of 'um, an'
+you bet they don't carry no bokays on _ther_ bayonits."
+
+As the column advanced, I glanced anxiously toward the human sea down
+yonder. At first, no additional movement could be detected, then, as the
+drums approached nearer, a quick stir, like a sudden gust, struck its
+troubled waters; the hoarse, horrible cry tore raggedly through the
+summer air. And then I hastily drew the terrified child with me into the
+shade of a receding doorway--for the mad flood came raving over its
+bounds toward us.
+
+The mob was mostly composed of men in their working-clothes, with bare
+arms and gaunt, haggard faces. There were some women among
+them--wretched, half-starved creatures--who kept shrieking like furies
+all the time. As the regiment, still moving resolutely onward,
+approached within a few yards of them, there fell the first volley of
+stones, accompanied with hoots and jeers of derision.
+
+"Thuz only two hundred of 'um, boys," shouted a rough voice. "They'll
+run quick enough if you give it to 'um good," and a second shower of
+missiles fell into the ranks, the mob arming themselves with the
+paving-stones at hand.
+
+But the little band of soldiers did not once falter, although here and
+there in their ranks you could discover a man leaning against a comrade,
+who gave him support as they moved on together. The crowd seemed a
+little dashed. The dispersion of the Sixth Regiment had been such a mere
+bagatelle, and their own number had, since then, been re-enforced by
+half the professional rowdies in town. They redoubled their cries,
+which, from jeers, now became shouts of rage and mortification.
+
+"Wot are you 'bout? Give it to 'um _good_, I tell yer. They daresn't
+fire," howled the same brawny giant who had spoken before.
+
+As they continued the attack, a pistol-shot could be heard now and then
+from the crowd. The regiment did not return the fire, but as the mob
+pressed closer, an order from the front was passed along the line.
+
+"Fix bayonets."
+
+The opposing parties were now only a few feet apart, and a rain of
+stones was falling so thick and fast as to darken the air, when all at
+once I saw the colonel's sword flash out, the blunt edge striking one of
+the rioters who was pressing on him.
+
+"Clear the way, there!" he cried.
+
+Then, wheeling and facing his command, his voice rang out, clear as a
+bugle;
+
+"A--r--m--s, 'port! Double-time, march! Ch--ar--ge, bayonets! Hurrah!
+Give 'em a yell, boys, and you can do it," added the colonel.
+
+I cannot describe the shout which followed--a clear, ringing, organized
+whoop; fresh and vibrant; of a perfectly distinct quality from the
+hoarse, undisciplined howl of the mob--sounding cool and terrible, like
+the cry of an avenging angel.
+
+The mob turned and fled, appalled, melting away like wax before the blue
+flame of the glittering bayonets, and the regiment entered the depot.
+
+Then I took time to breathe, and remembered Thomas.
+
+"He ain't fur f'om yere," said the boy. "Right 'roun' d' corner."
+
+And we passed out of the shelter of the doorway to a small, dirty alley,
+about twenty-five yards distant, where I found the old man resting
+against a lamp-post, the blood streaming down his face from a ghastly
+wound in the head, and his eyes closed. I made the boy get some water,
+and after bathing his face for a few moments, I succeeded in rousing
+him.
+
+"Is that you, Mist' Dunkin?" he asked, faintly.
+
+"Yes. How do you feel, Thomas?"
+
+"Dey's tuhibul times down-street," he gasped. "I like to got kilt."
+
+A pause.
+
+"Dey 'lowed dey wanted dem daih papehs--an'--dey didn't git
+'um--an'--den--den dey hit me side de hade--with a brickbat--an' I come
+'long tell I git yeah--an' den, disha boy he come 'long--"
+
+His voice was very faint and his hands very cold
+
+"Don't talk any more now," I said, chafing them in mine, while I
+wondered perplexedly how I should get him home. Presently he spoke
+again:
+
+"But de papehs is all right, seh. I hilt on to 'um, sho'. Dey--dey
+couldn't git 'um nohow, wid all de smahtniss," he said, with feeble
+triumph. "Dey's right yeah in my wescut pocket." Then he added, with a
+sudden change of tone: "But I'd like to go home, Mist' Dunkin; Ailse'll
+be oneasy 'bout me."
+
+I had to leave him with the boy while I went for a doctor and a vehicle,
+neither of which was easy to be had, but finally a milk-wagon was
+pressed into service, and although the mob had gathered together again,
+and were besieging the depot, yet, after some delay, we succeeded in
+conveying him to his home. I saw him safe in bed, his hurt dressed;
+then, after bestowing a reward upon the colored boy, who had rendered me
+such efficient service, I left him in charge of the doctor and his wife.
+
+The latter was a small, plump yellow woman, with large, gentle black
+eyes, and the soft voice so often found among Virginia "house" servants.
+After watching her as she assisted the surgeon to dress the wound, I
+came to the conclusion all of her talents were by no means "bound up in
+napkins," and I went home assured my faithful old messenger was left in
+very capable hands.
+
+Next morning, directly after breakfast, I sallied forth to inquire
+concerning his condition. After passing along the crowded thoroughfares,
+where everybody was occupied with the riot, it was a relief to find
+myself turning into the obscure little street where he lived.
+
+"Here, at least, everything seems peaceful enough," I said, aloud, as I
+approached the house. I was just in the act of placing my foot on the
+one door-step, when the door was thrown violently open, and a tall black
+woman bounced out, colliding with me as she passed, her superior
+momentum thrusting me backward across the narrow pavement into the
+street. She was too excited to heed my exclamation of astonishment. I
+don't think she saw me, even, for she turned immediately and faced some
+one standing in the doorway, whom I now perceived to be Ailse, looking
+dreadfully frightened.
+
+"_Good_-mornin', Mis' Wheatley," said the Amazon, with withering
+sarcasm; "_good_-mornin', madam. I _think_ you'll know it the nex' time
+I darkens your doors, I _think_ you will. Served me right, though, we'en
+I _demeaned_ myself to come; I might 'a' knowed what treatment I'd
+'eceive from _you_. Ef I hadn't ben boun' by solemn class-rules to pay
+some 'tention to Brother Wheatley's immortal soul "--these words were
+uttered at the very top of her voice--"you wouldn't 'a' caught _me_
+comin'; but I'll never come ag'in, never; so make yourself easy, Mis'
+Wheatley."
+
+A shade of relief passed over Ailse's features as this assurance was
+repeated, and I coming forward at this moment, the representative of the
+church militant betook herself off, while I entered and spoke to Ailse,
+who, fairly dazed, sank into a chair, and stared me helplessly in the
+face. There was a moment's silence, when she suddenly rose and offered
+me a seat, remarking, as she did so, that "Sisteh Ma'y Ann Jinkins
+ca'in' on so" made her forget her manners.
+
+"What is the matter?" said I.
+
+"I dunno, seh, 'cep'n' she's mad 'cause docteh won't leave heh stay and
+talk to Mist' Wheatley; _he_ made heh go, an' I s'pose hit kindeh put
+heh out."
+
+"What was she doing?"
+
+"Talkin', seh; jiss talkin' and prayin'."
+
+"And exciting the man into a fever," said the doctor, entering at that
+moment. "I came here half an hour ago," he continued, turning to me,
+"and found this woman--who really is a good nurse--turned out of her
+husband's room by that termagant who has just gone, and whom I found in
+the act of preparing the man for death, _she_ having decided his hours
+on earth were numbered; in fact, I actually chanced in upon a species of
+commendatory prayer, which, if continued another half hour--and I have
+every reason to think it would have been--would almost inevitably have
+ended the man's life."
+
+"I suppose I had better not see him this morning, then," said I.
+
+"Oh, yes; _you_ can see him; he's doing well now, and if he doesn't talk
+too much, I think the sight of a cheerful face will do him good," and I
+left him giving some directions to Ailse, while I proceeded up-stairs to
+the room where Thomas lay. He was awake, so I walked up to his bedside,
+and asked him how he felt.
+
+"I'm tollubul, thankee, seh; de medicine makes me kind o' sleepy, that's
+all."
+
+I seated myself beside him, there was a moment or two of silence, then
+he asked, fretfully:
+
+"Whai--whaih's Ailse? I like to see the 'oman 'roun'; s'haint got no
+speshul great gif', but she's kind o' handy wen a body's sick."
+
+"You don't seem to care so much for gifted women in a sick-room,
+Thomas?" I remarked, somewhat mischievously, after I had summoned his
+wife from down-stairs.
+
+"Well, naw, seh," a little shamefacedly. "Not so much. You see, seh,
+dey--dey's mos' too much fu' a body, sich times. Dey _will_ talk, you'se
+dey will, an' 'livah 'scouhcis, an' a sick man he hain't got de strenth
+to--to supplicate in kine, an' hit kind o' mawtifies him, seh."
+
+Once more there followed a silence, when I asked:
+
+"Thomas, why didn't you give up those papers to the mob, when they
+attacked you last night? Your retaining them might have cost you your
+life. I didn't mean you to endanger your life for them."
+
+He smiled slightly, as his glance met mine.
+
+"I dunno, seh," he replied, with his old reflective air. "You tole me
+mos' pehticaleh to hole on to 'um, an' 'twouldn't be doin' my duty
+faithful to let 'um go 's long ez I could hole on to 'um."
+
+"But suppose they had killed you?"
+
+"Well, Mist' Dunkin, ef dey had, I hope I'd been ready to go. I ben
+tryin' to lead a godly an' Chris'chun life, ez Scripcheh sez, fu' fawty
+yeahs, now, an' I hope I'd a foun' dyin' grace at de las'. You see, seh,
+thing hoped me mos' was de thoughts of a tex' Bro' Moss preached on las'
+Sund'y; 'peached like hit hep' on jinglin' in my hade all time dey was
+jawin' an' fightin' with me."
+
+"What text was it?" I asked.
+
+But he was almost asleep, and his wife signalled me not to wake him. So
+I was stealing away toward the door, when he opened his eyes and
+murmured, drowsily:
+
+"De tex', oh yes, seh. I fo'got--'twas a Scripcheh tex'--'Be thou
+faithful unto--'"
+
+He then turned over, settling himself comfortably in his pillows, and in
+a moment dropped asleep.
+
+In due course of time, he made his appearance in the office again, being
+anxious to "resume his duties," he said. But that blow on the head has
+proved to be a serious affair, affecting the old man's memory
+permanently, and giving a violent shock to his system, from which it
+will never entirely recover. He is no longer the clear-headed messenger
+he was, when he was wont to assert--no idle boast either--that he could
+"fetch an' cai' eq'il to any man." Now and then, in these latter days,
+he confuses things a little, always suffering the keenest mortification
+when he discovers his mistakes. As I said in the beginning, he is still
+our office-boy and messenger, although a smart young mulatto is hired to
+come betimes, make things tidy, and leave before the old man gets down,
+so his feelings mayn't be hurt. He sometimes remarks on our being the
+"cleanis' gentlemun in de wueld," but we contrive that no whisper of the
+real state of the case ever reaches his ear, and he is allowed to sweep
+and dust a little to satisfy his mind.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: A virtuous woman.]
+
+
+
+
+THE HEARTBREAK CAMEO.
+
+By LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.
+
+"It is a cameo to break one's heart!" said Mrs. Dalliba, as she toyed
+with the superb jewel. "The cutting is unmistakably Florentine, and yet
+you have placed it among your Indian curiosities. I do not understand it
+at all."
+
+Mrs. Dalliba was a connoisseur in gems; she had travelled from one
+extremity of Europe to the other; had studied the crown jewels of nearly
+every civilized nation, haunted museums, and was such a frequent visitor
+at the jewellers' of the Palais Royal, that many of them had come to
+regard her as an individual who might harbor burglarious intentions. She
+was a very harmless specialist, however, who, though she loved these
+stars of the underworld better than any human being, could never have
+been tempted to make one of them unfairly her own, and she seldom
+purchased, for she never coveted one unless it was something quite
+extraordinary, beyond the reach of even her considerable fortune.
+Meanwhile few of the larger jewelry houses had in their employ
+lapidaries more skilled than Mrs. Dalliba. She pursued her studies for
+the mere love of the science, devoting a year in Italy to mosaics,
+cameos, and intaglios. And yet the Crèvecoeur cameo had puzzled wiser
+heads than Mrs. Dalliba's, adept though she was. It was cut from a solid
+heart-shaped gem, a layer of pure white, shading down through exquisite
+gradations into deep green, and representing Aphrodite rising from the
+sea; the white foam rose gracefully, with arms extended, scattering the
+drops of spray from her hands and her wind-blown hair; the foamy waves
+were beautifully cut with their intense hollows and snowy crests; it was
+evidently the work of a cultivated as well as a natural artist; it was
+not surprising that Mrs. Dalliba should insist that it could not have
+been executed out of Italy.
+
+But Prof. Stonehenge was right too; it was a stone of the chalcedonic
+family, resembling sardonyx, except in color; others, similar to it both
+in a natural state and wrought into arrow-heads, had been found along
+the shores of Lake Superior. This seemed to have been brought away from
+its associates by some wandering tribe, for it had been discovered in
+Central Illinois. The nearest point at which other relics belonging to
+the same period had been found was the site of Fort Crèvecoeur, near
+Starved Rock, Illinois. After all, the stone only differed from the
+arrow-heads of Lake Superior in its beautiful carving and unprecedented
+size--and, ah, yes! there was another difference, the mystery of its
+discovery. No other skeleton among all the buried braves unearthed by
+scientific research at Crèvecoeur had been found with a gem for a
+heart--a gem that glittered not on the breast, but within a chest hooped
+with human bone. Mrs. Dalliba had just remarked that she had never felt
+so strong a desire to possess and wear any jewel as now; but when Prof.
+Stonehenge told how the uncanny thing rattled within the white ribs of
+the skeleton in which it was found, she allowed the gem to slip from her
+hand, while something of its own pale green flickered in the disgusted
+expression which quivered about the corners of her mobile mouth. The
+cameo was a mystery which had baffled geologist, antiquarian, and
+sculptor alike, for Father Francis Xavier had gone down to his grave
+with his secret and his cameo hidden in his heart. He had kept both well
+for two centuries, and when the heart crumbled in dust it took its
+secret with it, leaving only the cameo to bewilder conjecture.
+
+Its story was, after all, a simple one. On the southern shore of
+Michillimackinac, in the romantic days of the first exploration of the
+great lakes by the Courreurs de Bois and pioneer priests, had settled
+good Père Ignace, a devoted Jesuit missionary. The old man was revered
+and loved by the Indians among whom he dwelt. His labors blossomed in a
+little village, called from his patron saint the mission of St. Ignace,
+that displayed its cluster of white huts and wigwams like the petals of
+a water-lily on the margin of the lake. Just back of the village was a
+round knoll which served as a landmark on the lake, for the shore near
+St. Ignace was remarkably level. On the summit of this mound the good
+father had reared a great white cross, and at its foot the superstitious
+Indians often laid votive offerings of strongly incongruous character.
+Here he had lived and taught for many years, succeeding in instructing
+his little flock in the French tongue, and in at least an outward
+semblance of the Catholic religion. Even the rude trappers, who came to
+trade at regular intervals, revered him, and lived like good Christians
+while at the mission, so as not to counteract his teaching by their
+lawless example. Here Père Ignace was growing old, and even this
+grasshopper of a spiritual charge was becoming a burden. His superior,
+at Montreal, understood this, and sent him an assistant.
+
+Very unlike Father Ignatius was Père François Xavier, a man with all the
+fire and enthusiasm of youth in his blood--just the one for daring,
+hazardous enterprises; just the one to undergo all the privation and
+toil of planting a mission; to undertake plans requiring superhuman
+efforts, and to carry them through successfully by main force of will. A
+better assistant for Father Ignatius could not have been found. It was
+force, will, and intellect in the service of love and meekness; only
+there was a doubt if the servant might not usurp the place of the
+master, and the sway of love be not materially advanced by its new ally.
+Indeed, if the truth had been known, even the Bishop of Montreal had
+felt that Father Francis Xavier was too ambitious a character to reside
+safely in too close proximity to himself; and engrossing employment at a
+distance for him, rather than the expressed solicitude for Father
+Ignatius, prompted this appointment. The results of the following year
+approved the arrangement. The mission received a new accession of life;
+its interests were pushed forward energetically.
+
+Father Francis Xavier devoted himself to an acquisition of the various
+Indian dialects, and to excursions among the neighboring tribes.
+Converts were made in astonishing numbers, and they brought liberal
+gifts to the little church from their simple possessions. Father
+Ignatius had never thought to barter with the trappers and traders, but
+his colleague did; large church warehouses were erected, and the mission
+soon had revenues of importance. Away in the interior Father Xavier had
+discovered there was a silver mine; but this discovery, for the present,
+he made no attempt at exploiting. He had secured it to the church by
+title deed and treaty with the chief who claimed it; had visited it and
+assured himself that it would some day be very valuable, and he
+contented himself with this for the present, and even managed to forget
+its acquisition in his yearly report sent to Montreal. Father Francis
+Xavier was something of a geologist; his father was a Florentine
+jeweller, and the son had studied as his apprentice, not having at first
+been destined for the church. Even after taking holy orders, Father
+Francis Xavier had labored over precious stones designed for
+ecclesiastical decoration. His specialty had been that of a gem
+engraver, and his long white fingers were remarkably skilful and
+delicate. This northern region, with all its wealth of precious stones,
+was a great jewel casket for him, and he became at once an enthusiastic
+collector.
+
+Before the coming of his assistant, Father Ignatius had managed his own
+simple housekeeping in all its most humble details. Now they had the
+services of an Indian maid of all work, who had been brought up under
+the eyes of Father Ignatius, and whom the old man regarded rather as a
+daughter than as a servant. Her moccasined feet fell as silently as
+those of spirits as she glided about their lodge. She never sang at her
+work, and rarely spoke, but she smiled often with a smile so childlike
+as to be almost silly in expression. Father Ignatius loved the silent
+smile, and a word from him was always sure to bring it; but it angered
+Father Francis Xavier more than many a more repulsive thing would have
+done. It seemed so utterly imbecile and babyish to him, he had got so
+far away from innocence and smiles and childhood himself, that the
+sight of them irritated him. The young Indian girl had a long and almost
+unpronounceable name. Père Ignace had baptized her Marie, and the new
+name had gradually taken the place of the old.
+
+One day, as she was silently but dexterously putting to order the large
+upper room, which served Père Francis Xavier as study and dormitory, she
+paused before his collection of agates and minerals, and stroking the
+stones, said in her soft French and Indian patois, "Pretty, pretty."
+Father Xavier was seated at the great open window, looking over the top
+of his book away across the breezy lake. He heard the words, and knew
+that she was looking at him from the corner of her eye, but his only
+reply was a deeper scowl and a lowering of his glance to the printed
+page. The silly smile which he felt sure was upon her face faded out,
+but the girl spoke again, and this time more resolutely, determined to
+attract his attention. "Pretty stones. Marie's father many more, much
+prettier--much."
+
+Father Xavier laid down his book. He was all attention. "Where did your
+father get them?" he asked.
+
+"In the mountains climb, in the mines dig, in the lake dive, he seek
+them all the time summer."
+
+"What does he do with them?"
+
+"Cuts them like _mon père_," and Marie imitated in pantomime the use of
+the hammer and chisel. "Cut them all time winter, very many."
+
+"What does he do that for?" asked the priest, surprised.
+
+"All the same you," replied the girl--"make arrow-heads."
+
+"Oh! he makes arrow-heads, does he? Mine are not arrow-heads, but I
+should like to see what your father does. Does he live far from here?"
+
+"Marie take you to-night in canoe."
+
+"Very well, after supper."
+
+She had often taken him out upon the lake before, for she managed their
+birch-bark canoe with more skill than himself, and it was convenient to
+have some one to paddle while he fished or read or dreamed. She rowed
+him swiftly up the lake for several miles, then, fastening the canoe,
+led the way through a trail in the forest. The sun was setting, and "the
+whispering pines and the hemlocks" of the forest primeval formed a
+tapestry of gloom around the paternal wigwam as they reached it. Black
+Beaver, her father, reclined lazily in the door, watching the coals of
+the little fire in front of his tent. He was always lazy. It was
+difficult to believe that he ever climbed or dug or dived for agates as
+Marie had said, so complete a picture he seemed of inaction. The girl
+spoke a few words to him in their native dialect, and he grumblingly
+rose, shuffled into the interior of the wigwam, and brought out two
+baskets. One was a shallow tray filled with the finished heads in great
+variety of material and color. There were white carnelian, delicately
+striped with prophetic red, blood-stone deep colored and hard as ruby,
+agates of every shade and marking, flinty jasper, emerald-banded
+malachite, delicate rose color, and purple one made from shells, and
+various crystals with whose names Father Francis Xavier was unfamiliar.
+There was one shading from dark green through to red, only a drop of the
+latter color on the very tip of the arrow where blood would first kiss
+blood. Father Xavier looked at it in wondering admiration, and at last
+asked Black Beaver what he called it.
+
+"It is a devil-stone," replied the Indian. "More here," and he opened
+the deeper basket in which were stored the unground and uncut stones,
+and placed a superb gem in Father Xavier's hand. He had ground it
+sufficiently to show that it was in two layers, white and green; in this
+there was no touch of red, but in every other respect it was the
+handsomer stone.
+
+"Will you sell it to me?" asked the priest. "How much?"
+
+The Indian smiled with an expression strangely like that of his
+daughter, and put it back with alacrity in his basket, saying, "Me no
+sell big devil-stone. No money buy."
+
+"What do you mean to do with it?" asked Father Xavier.
+
+"Make arrow-head--very hungry--no blood;" and he indicated the absence
+of the red tint. "Very hungry--kill very much--never have enough!"
+
+"Then you mean to keep it and use it yourself?"
+
+"No," said the other. "Me no hunt game--hunt stones."
+
+"What will you do with it?" asked the puzzled priest.
+
+"Give it away," said Black Beaver--"give away to greatest--"
+
+"Chief?" asked Father Xavier.
+
+Black Beaver shook his head.
+
+"Friend then?"
+
+"No," grunted the arrow-head maker--"give away to big _enemy_!"
+
+"What did he mean by that?" Father Xavier asked of Marie on their way
+back to the mission. And the girl explained the superstition that
+Indians of their own tribe never killed an enemy with ordinary weapons,
+for fear that his soul would wait for theirs in the Happy Hunting
+Grounds; but if he was shot with a devil-stone, the soul could not fly
+upward, but would sink through all eternity, until it reached the
+deepest spot of all the great lakes under the stony gaze of the Doom
+Woman.
+
+When he inquired further as to the whereabouts of the Doom Woman's
+residence he ascertained that she was only a sharp cliff among "the
+pictured rocks of sandstone" of the upper lake--a cliff that viewed from
+either side maintained its resemblance to a female profile looking
+sternly down at the water beneath it, which was here believed to be
+unfathomable. The Doom Woman still exists. Strange to say, under its
+sharp-cut features a steamer has since been wrecked and sunk, and its
+expression of gloomy fate is now awfully appropriate. Marie had visited
+"the great Sea Water" with her father. Nature's titanic and fanciful
+frescoing and cameo-cutting had strongly wrought upon her impressionable
+mind, and the old legends and superstitions of paganism had been by no
+means effaced by the very slight veneer of Christianity which she had
+received at the mission.
+
+From this evening Father Xavier's manner toward her changed. Her smile
+no longer seemed to irritate him, and a close observer might have
+noticed that she smiled less than formerly. He talked with her more,
+paid closer attention to her studies, made her little presents from time
+to time, and spoke to her always with studied gentleness that was quite
+foreign to his nature. And Marie watched him at work over his stones,
+spent her spare time in rambling in search of those which she had
+learned he liked, and laid upon his table without remark each new
+discovery of quartz, or crystal, or pebble. She had been in the habit of
+making little boxes which she decorated with a rude mosaic of small
+shells, and Father Xavier noticed that these gradually acquired more
+taste and were arranged with some eye to the harmonies of color, while
+the forms were copied with Chinese accuracy from patterns on the
+bindings of his books or the borders of the religious pictures. Marie
+was developing under an art education which, if carried far enough,
+might effect great things. She even managed his graving tools with a
+good deal of accuracy, copying designs which he set her, until he
+wondered what his father would have thought of so apt an apprentice.
+
+Suddenly, one morning in midsummer, Marie announced that she should
+leave them. Her father was going on a long expedition for stones to the
+head of Lake Superior, and she did not know when she might return. As
+she imparted this information she watched Father Xavier from the corner
+of her eye, and something of the old childish smile reappeared as he
+showed that he was really annoyed.
+
+The summer passed profitably for the Black Beaver, and he began to think
+of returning to St. Ignace with his small store of valuable stones
+before the fall gales should set in. He was just a few days too late.
+When within sight of Michillimackinac a storm arose driving them out
+upon the open lake, and playing with their canoe as though it were a
+cockle-shell. When the storm abated a cloudy night had set in; no land
+was visible in any direction; they had completely lost their direction,
+and knew not toward which point to seek the shore. Paddling at hazard
+might take them further out into the centre of the lake, and indeed they
+were too worn with battling with the storm to do any more than keep the
+tossed skiff from capsizing. Morning dawned wet and gray, after a
+miserable night; they were drenched to the skin, and almost spent with
+weariness and hunger, and now that a wan and ghostly daylight had come
+they were no better for it, for an impenetrable fog shut them in on
+every side. Marie and her mother began to pray. The Black Beaver sat
+dogged and inert, with upturned face, regarding the sky.
+
+The day wore by wearily; some of the time they paddled straight onward,
+with sinking hearts, knowing not toward what they were going, and at
+others rested with the inaction of despair. When the position of the
+bright spot which meant the sun told that it lacked but an hour of
+sunset, and the clouds seemed to be thickening rather than dispersing,
+the Black Beaver gave a long and hideous howl. His wife and daughter
+shuddered when they heard it, as would any one, for a more unearthly and
+discordant cry was never uttered by man or beast; but they had double
+reason to shudder; it was the death cry of their nation.
+
+"We can never live through another night," said he, and he covered his
+face with his arms.
+
+"Father," said Marie, "try what power there is in the white man's God.
+Say that you will give Him your devil-stone if He will save us now."
+
+"The priest may have it," said the Black Beaver, and he uncovered his
+face and sat up as though expecting a miracle. And the miracle came. The
+sun was setting behind them, and in front, somewhat above the horizon,
+the clouds parted, forming a circle about a white cross which hung
+suspended in the air. They all saw it distinctly, but only for a few
+moments; then the clouds closed and the vision vanished. With new hope
+the little party rowed toward the spot where they had last seen it, and
+through the fog they could dimly discern the outlines of the coast--they
+were nearing land. A little further on, and a village was visible, which
+gained a more and more familiar aspect as they approached. Night settled
+down before they reached it, but ere their feet touched the land they
+had recognized the mission of St. Ignace. The cross was not a vision.
+The clouds had parted to show them the great white landmark and sign
+which Father Ignatius had raised upon the little knoll.
+
+The next day the Black Beaver unearthed his devil-stone, and fastening a
+silver chain to it, was about to carry it away and attach it to the
+cross, which was already loaded with the gifts of the little colony; but
+Marie took it from his hand. "I will give it to the good priest myself,"
+she said. "He may see fit to place it on the image of the Virgin in the
+church."
+
+A few days later Marie placed the coveted stone in Father Xavier's hand;
+but what was his bitter disappointment to find that she had marred the
+exquisite thing by a rude attempt at a delineation upon it of the vision
+of the cross. She had carefully chiselled away the milky white layer,
+excepting on the crests of some very primitive representations of waves,
+and within the awkwardly plain cross in the centre of the gem. All his
+hopes of cutting a face upon this lovely jewel were crushed; it was
+ruined by her unskilful work. Father Xavier was completely master of his
+own emotions. He took the stone without remark, and hung it, as Marie
+requested, about the neck of the Madonna. Each day as he said mass the
+sight of the mutilated jewel roused within him resentful feelings
+against poor, well-wishing little Marie. He had been very kind to her
+since he had first seen the stone in the possession of her father, but
+now it was worse than before. He avoided her markedly, for the smile
+which so annoyed him still lighted her face whenever she saw him, and
+there was in it a reproachful sadness which was even more aggravating
+than its simple childishness had been.
+
+One day Father Xavier, in turning over his papers, came across an old
+etching of Venus rising from the sea. The figure, with its outstretched
+arms, suggested a possibility to him. He made a careful tracing of it,
+took it to the church, and laid it upon the stone. All of its outlines
+came within the white cross; there was still hope for the cameo. All
+that winter Father Xavier toiled upon it, exhausting his utmost skill,
+but never exhausting his patience. His chief trial was in the extreme
+hardness of the stone, which rapidly wore out his graving tools. At last
+it was finished, and Father Xavier confessed to himself, in all
+humility, that he had not only never executed so delicate a piece of
+workmanship, but he had never seen its equal. Every curve of the
+exquisite-hued waves was studied from the swell that sometimes swept
+grandly in from the lake on the long reef of rocks a few miles above St.
+Ignace. The form of the goddess was modelled from his remembrance of the
+Greek antique. It was a gem worthy of an emperor. What should he do with
+it?
+
+As the spring ripened into summer, ambitious thoughts flowered in Père
+Francis Xavier's soul. What a grand bishopric this whole western country
+would make with its unexplored wealth of mines, and furs, and forest!
+Why should he be obliged to make reports of the revenue which his own
+financiering had secured to the mission, to the head at Montreal? Why
+should not his reverence the Lord Bishop Francis Xavier dwell in an
+episcopal palace built somewhere on these lakes, with unlimited
+spiritual and temporal sway over all this country? To effect such a
+scheme it would be necessary for him to see both the King of France and
+the Pope. He was not sure that even if he could return to Europe
+immediately, he had the influence necessary in either quarter, but the
+cameo was a step in the right direction. Something of the same thought
+occurred at the same time to the Bishop of Montreal. Father Xavier's
+reports showed the mission to be in a flourishing condition. The first
+struggles of the pioneer were over. Father Xavier must not be left in
+too luxurious a position. The Chevalier La Salle was now fitting out his
+little band designed to explore the lakes and follow the Mississippi
+from its source to the Gulf. A most important expedition; it would be
+well that the Jesuit fathers should share in the honors if it proved
+successful, and if the little party perished in its hazardous enterprise
+Père Francis Xavier could perhaps be spared as easily as any member of
+his spiritual army.
+
+And so, in the summer of 1679, the Chevalier sailed up the Lac du
+Dauphin, as Lake Erie was then called, into the Lac d'Orleans, or Huron,
+carrying letters in which Père Francis Xavier was ordered to leave his
+charge for a time in order to render all the assistance in his power to
+the explorers. The Bishop of Montreal could never have guessed with what
+heartfelt joy his command was obeyed. Father Xavier was tired of this
+peaceful life, tired of "the endless wash of melancholy waves," of the
+short cool summers, and long white blank of winter; tired of inaction,
+of the lack of stimulating surroundings, of the gentleness of Father
+Ignatius and Marie's haunting smile. Here, too, might be the very
+occasion he craved of making himself famous and deserving of reward as
+an explorer. It was true that he started as a subordinate, but that was
+no reason that he should return in the same capacity. Marie had served
+the noble guests with pleasant alacrity, passing the rainbow-tinted
+trout caught as well as broiled by her own hand, and the luscious
+huckleberries in tasteful baskets of her own braiding, and Tontz Main de
+Fer, the chivalric companion and friend of La Salle, was moved like
+Geraint, served by Enid, "to stoop and kiss the dainty little thumb
+that crossed the trencher." The salutation was received with unconscious
+dignity by little Marie; once only was Père François Xavier annoyed by
+the absence of a display of childish pleasure in an ever-ready smile.
+
+History tells how trial and privation of every kind waited on this
+little band of heroic men; how hunger, and cold, and fever dogged their
+steps; how the Indians proved treacherous and hostile; how, having
+reached central Illinois, after incredible exertion, they found
+themselves in the dead of winter unable to proceed further, and
+surrounded by tribes incited against them by some unknown enemy. A
+fatality seemed to hang over them; suspicious occurrences indicated that
+they had a traitor among their number, but he was never discovered. La
+Salle did not despair or abandon the enterprise; but when six of his
+most trusted men mutinied and deserted, he lost hope, and became seized
+with a presentiment that he would never return from his expedition.
+Father Xavier was his confidant as well as confessor, but he seems not
+to have been able to disperse the gloom which settled over the leader's
+mind. Perhaps he did not endeavor to do so. Hopeless but still true to
+his trust, La Salle constructed near Peoria a fort which he named
+Crèvecoeur, in token of his despondency and disappointment. Leaving
+Tontz Main de Fer in command here with the greater part of his men, he
+set out with five for Frontenac, on the 2d of March, 1680, intending to
+return with supplies to take command again of his party, and to proceed
+southward. It was at this point that the most inexplicable event of the
+entire enterprise occurred. Before the party divided _some one_
+attempted to poison the Chevalier La Salle. The poison was a subtle and
+slow one, similar in its effects to those used by the Borgia family; the
+secret of its manufacture was thought to be unknown out of Italy.
+Fortunately he had taken an under or overdose of it, and the effects
+manifested themselves only in a long illness. He was too far on his
+journey from Fort Heartbreak when stricken down to return to it, and was
+mercifully received and nursed back to health by the friendly
+Pottawottamies.
+
+While the leader was lying sick in an Indian lodge, the knightly Tontz,
+ignorant of the fate of his friend, was having his troubles at the
+little fort of Heartbreak. Père François Xavier had remained with him,
+and aided him with counsels and personal exertions; he had made himself
+so indispensable that he was now lieutenant; if anything should happen
+to Tontz, he would be commander. He was secretary of the expedition,
+drew careful maps, and made voluminous daily entries in a journal, which
+was afterward found to be a marvel of painstaking both in the facts and
+fictions which it contained. Scanty mention was there of La Salle and
+Tontz Main de Fer, and much of Père François Xavier, but it was clear,
+explicit, depicting the advantages of an acquisition of this territory
+to the crown of France in glowing terms, and strongly advising that the
+man who had most distinguished himself in the difficulties of its
+discovery should be appointed as governor, or baron, under the royal
+authority.
+
+While Father Xavier was compiling this remarkable piece of authorship,
+the Iroquois descended in warlike array upon the somewhat friendly
+disposed Illinois Indians, in whose midst Fort Crèvecoeur had been
+built. The suspicious Indian mind immediately connected the advent of
+their enemies with the building of the fort, and regarded the little
+garrison with distrust. Tontz, at the instance of Father Xavier,
+presented himself to their chief, and offered to do anything in his
+power to prove his friendly intentions. The chief accepted his services,
+and sent him as ambassador to inquire into the cause of the coming of
+the Iroquois. This mission had nearly been his last, for Tontz was
+received with stabs, and hardly allowed to give the message of the
+chief. His ill-treatment at the hands of their enemies did not reassure
+the suspicious Illinois, who ordered Tontz to immediately evacuate the
+fort and return with his forces to the country whence he had come. In
+his wounded condition such a journey was extremely hazardous, and it
+must have been with grave doubts as to his surviving it that Father
+Xavier took temporary command of the returning expedition.
+
+It was in the spring of 1681. Father Xavier had been absent nearly two
+years. Father Ignatius missed him sadly--all the life and fire seemed
+have gone out of the mission. Even Marie moved about her work in a
+listless, languid way, which contrasted markedly with her once lithe and
+rapid movements. They had not once heard from the explorers, and Father
+Ignatius shook his head sadly, and feared that he would never see his
+energetic colleague again. The Black Beaver had slept through the last
+months of winter, and, as with the general awakening of spring the bears
+came out of their dens, and the snakes sunned themselves near their
+holes, he too stretched himself lazily and awoke to a consciousness of
+what was passing around him. In the first place something was amiss with
+Marie. When she came to the wigwam it was not to chat merrily of the
+affairs of the mission. She did not braid as many baskets as formerly,
+and no longer showed him new patterns in shell mosaic on the lids of
+little boxes. He was a curious old man, and he soon drew her secret from
+her. Marie loved Père François Xavier, and he had gone.
+
+The Black Beaver went down to the mission one evening and had a long
+talk with Father Ignatius. He ascertained first that Père François
+Xavier really meant to return; then, with all the dignity of an old
+feudal baron, he offered Marie as a bride for his spiritual son. Very
+gently the good Père Ignace explained that Romish priests were so nearly
+in the kingdom of heaven that the question of marrying and giving in
+marriage was not for them to consider. The Black Beaver went home, told
+no one of his visit, and for several days indulged in the worst drunken
+spree of which he was capable. When he came out of it he announced to
+his wife and Marie that he was going away on his annual trip for stores,
+but that they need not accompany him.
+
+Marie knelt as usual in the little church on the evening of the day on
+which her father had gone away. Père François Xavier had replaced the
+cameo on the Virgin's breast before he went; it was a safer place than
+the vault of a bank would have been, had such a thing existed in the
+country. There was no one in the island sacrilegious enough to rob the
+church. Marie had gazed at the stone each time that she repeated the
+prayer which he had taught her. She looked up now, and it was gone.
+
+Half way upon their northward route, Tontz's band were struggling
+wearily on when they were met by a solitary Indian, who, though he
+carried a long bow, had not an unfriendly aspect. He eyed the little
+band silently as they passed by him in defile, then ran after them, and
+inquired if the Père François Xavier, of Mission St. Ignace, was not of
+their number. He was informed that the reverend father had remained a
+short distance behind to write in his journal, but that he would soon
+overtake them; and he was warmly pressed to remain with them if he had
+messages for the priest, and give them to him when he arrived; but the
+Indian shook his head and passed on in the direction in which they told
+him he would be likely to meet Father Xavier. The party halted and
+waited hour after hour for the priest, but he did not come. Finally two
+went back in search, and found him lying upon the sod with upturned
+face--the place where he had written last in his journal marked by a few
+drops of his heart's blood, and the long shaft of an arrow protruding
+from his breast. They drew it out, but the arrow-head had been attached
+as is the custom in some Indian tribes, by means of a soft wax, which is
+melted by the warmth of the body, and it remained in the heart. Father
+Xavier had been dead some hours. They buried him where they found him,
+and proceeded on their march. Tontz recovered on the way. They reached
+Michillimackinac in safety, where they were joined two months later by
+La Salle; and the world knows the result of his second expedition.
+
+Little Marie learned by degrees to smile again, and in after years
+married another arrow-head maker, as swarthy and as shaggy as the Black
+Beaver. There is no moral to my story except that of poetic justice.
+Père François Xavier had sown a plentiful crop of stratagems, and he
+learned in the lonely forest that "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he
+also reap."
+
+Meanwhile to all but you, my readers, the Crèvecoeur cameo remains as
+great a mystery as ever.
+
+
+
+
+MISS EUNICE'S GLOVE
+
+By Albert Webster.
+
+I.
+
+
+For a long time blithe and fragile Miss Eunice, demure, correct in
+deportment, and yet not wholly without enthusiasm, thought that day the
+unluckiest in her life on which she first took into her hands that
+unobtrusive yet dramatic book, "Miss Crofutt's Missionary Labors in the
+English Prisons."
+
+It came to her notice by mere accident, not by favor of proselyting
+friends; and such was its singular material, that she at once devoured
+it with avidity. As its title suggests, it was the history of the
+ameliorating endeavors of a woman in criminal society, and it contained,
+perforce, a large amount of tragic and pathetic incident. But this last
+was so blended and involved with what Miss Eunice would have skipped as
+commonplace, that she was led to digest the whole volume--statistics,
+philosophy, comments, and all. She studied the analysis of the
+atmosphere of cells, the properties and waste of wheaten flour, the cost
+of clothing to the general government, the whys and wherefores of crime
+and evil-doing; and it was not long before there was generated within
+her bosom a fine and healthy ardor to emulate this practical and
+courageous pattern.
+
+She was profoundly moved by the tales of missionary labors proper. She
+was filled with joy to read that Miss Crofutt and her lieutenants
+sometimes cracked and broke away the formidable husks which enveloped
+divine kernels in the hearts of some of the wretches, and she frequently
+wept at the stories of victories gained over monsters whose defences of
+silence and stolidity had suddenly fallen into ruin above the slow but
+persistent sapping of constant kindness. Acute tinglings and chilling
+thrills would pervade her entire body when she read that on Christmas
+every wretch seemed to become for that day, at least, a gracious man;
+that the sight of a few penny tapers, or the possession of a handful of
+sweet stuff, or a spray of holly, or a hot-house bloom, would appear to
+convert the worst of them into children. Her heart would swell to learn
+how they acted during the one poor hour of yearly freedom in the
+prison-yards; that they swelled their chests; that they ran; that they
+took long strides; that the singers anxiously tried their voices, now
+grown husky; that the athletes wrestled only to find their limbs stiff
+and their arts forgotten; that the gentlest of them lifted their faces
+to the broad sky and spent the sixty minutes in a dreadful gazing at the
+clouds.
+
+The pretty student gradually became possessed with a rage. She desired
+to convert some one, to recover some estray, to reform some wretch.
+
+She regretted that she lived in America, and not in England, where the
+most perfect rascals were to be found; she was sorry that the gloomy,
+sin-saturated prisons which were the scenes of Miss Crofutt's labors
+must always be beyond her ken.
+
+There was no crime in the family or the neighborhood against which she
+might strive; no one whom she knew was even austere; she had never met a
+brute; all her rascals were newspaper rascals. For aught she knew, this
+tranquillity and good-will might go on forever, without affording her an
+opportunity. She must be denied the smallest contact with these
+frightful faces and figures, these bars and cages, these deformities of
+the mind and heart, these curiosities of conscience, shyness, skill, and
+daring; all these dramas of reclamation, all these scenes of fervent
+gratitude, thankfulness, and intoxicating liberty--all or any of these
+things must never come to be the lot of her eyes; and she gave herself
+up to the most poignant regret.
+
+But one day she was astonished to discover that all of these delights
+lay within half an hour's journey of her home; and moreover, that there
+was approaching an hour which was annually set apart for the indulgence
+of the inmates of the prison in question. She did not stop to ask
+herself, as she might well have done, how it was that she had so
+completely ignored this particular institution, which was one of the
+largest and best conducted in the country, especially when her desire to
+visit one was so keen; but she straightway set about preparing for her
+intended visit in a manner which she fancied Miss Crofutt would have
+approved, had she been present.
+
+She resolved, in the most radical sense of the word, to be alive. She
+jotted on some ivory tablets, with a gold pencil, a number of hints to
+assist her in her observations. For example: "Phrenological development;
+size of cells; ounces of solid and liquid; tissue-producing food; were
+mirrors allowed? if so, what was the effect? jimmy and skeleton-key,
+character of; canary birds: query, would not their admission into every
+cell animate in the human prisoners a similar buoyancy? to urge upon the
+turnkeys the use of the Spanish garrote in place of the present
+distressing gallows; to find the proportion of Orthodox and Unitarian
+prisoners to those of other persuasions." But beside these and fifty
+other similar memoranda, the enthusiast cast about her for something
+practical to do.
+
+She hit upon the capital idea of flowers. She at once ordered from a
+gardener of taste two hundred bouquets, or rather nosegays, which she
+intended for distribution among the prisoners she was about to visit,
+and she called upon her father for the money.
+
+Then she began to prepare her mind. She wished to define the plan from
+which she was to make her contemplations. She settled that she would be
+grave and gentle. She would be exquisitely careful not to hold herself
+too much aloof, and yet not to step beyond the bounds of that sweet
+reserve that she conceived must have been at once Miss Crofutt's sword
+and buckler.
+
+Her object was to awaken in the most abandoned criminals a realization
+that the world, in its most benignant phase, was still open to them;
+that society, having obtained a requital for their wickedness, was ready
+to embrace them again on proof of their repentance.
+
+She determined to select at the outset two or three of the most
+remarkable monsters, and turn the full head of her persuasions
+exclusively upon them, instead of sprinkling (as it were) the whole
+community with her grace. She would arouse at first a very few, and then
+a few more, and a few more, and so on _ad infinitum_.
+
+It was on a hot July morning that she journeyed on foot over the bridge
+which led to the prison, and there walked a man behind her carrying the
+flowers.
+
+Her eyes were cast down, this being the position most significant of her
+spirit. Her pace was equal, firm, and rapid: she made herself oblivious
+of the bustle of the streets, and she repented that her vanity had
+permitted her to wear white and lavender these making a combination in
+her dress which she had been told became her well. She had no right to
+embellish herself. Was she going to the races or a match, or a
+kettle-drum, that she must dandify herself with particular shades of
+color? She stopped short, blushing. Would Miss Cro----. But there was no
+help for it now. It was too late to turn back. She proceeded, feeling
+that the odds were against her.
+
+She approached her destination in such a way that the prison came into
+view suddenly. She paused, with a feeling of terror. The enormous gray
+building rose far above a lofty white wall of stone, and a sense of its
+prodigious strength and awful gloom overwhelmed her. On the top of the
+wall, holding by an iron railing, there stood a man with a rifle
+trailing behind him. He was looking down into the yard inside. His
+attitude of watchfulness, his weapon, the unseen thing that was being
+thus fiercely guarded, provoked in her such a revulsion that she came to
+a standstill.
+
+What in the name of mercy had she come here for? She began to tremble.
+The man with the flowers came up to her and halted. From the prison
+there came at this instant the loud clang of a bell, and succeeding this
+a prolonged and resonant murmur which seemed to increase. Miss Eunice
+looked hastily around her. There were several people who must have heard
+the same sounds that reached her ears, but they were not alarmed. In
+fact, one or two of them seemed to be going to the prison direct. The
+courage of our philanthropist began to revive. A woman in a brick house
+opposite suddenly pulled up a window-curtain and fixed an amused and
+inquisitive look upon her.
+
+This would have sent her into a thrice-heated furnace. "Come, if you
+please," she commanded the man, and she marched upon the jail.
+
+She entered at first a series of neat offices in a wing of the
+structure, and then she came to a small door made of black bars of iron.
+A man stood on the farther side of this, with a bunch of large keys.
+When he saw Miss Eunice he unlocked and opened the door, and she passed
+through.
+
+She found that she had entered a vast, cool, and lofty cage, one hundred
+feet in diameter; it had an iron floor, and there were several people
+strolling about here and there. Through several grated apertures the
+sunlight streamed with strong effect, and a soft breeze swept around the
+cavernous apartment.
+
+Without the cage, before her and on either hand, were three more wings
+of the building, and in these were the prisoners' corridors.
+
+At the moment she entered, the men were leaving their cells, and
+mounting the stone stairs in regular order, on their way to the chapel
+above. The noisy files went up and down and to the right and to the
+left, shuffling and scraping and making a great tumult. The men were
+dressed in blue, and were seen indistinctly through the lofty gratings.
+From above and below and all around her there came the metallic snapping
+of bolts and the rattle of moving bars; and so significant was
+everything of savage repression and impending violence, that Miss Eunice
+was compelled to say faintly to herself "I am afraid it will take a
+little time to get used to all this."
+
+She rested upon one of the seats in the rotunda while the chapel
+services were being conducted, and she thus had an opportunity to regain
+a portion of her lost heart. She felt wonderfully dwarfed and belittled,
+and her plan of recovering souls had, in some way or other, lost much of
+its feasibility. A glance at her bright flowers revived her a little, as
+did also a surprising, long-drawn roar from over her head, to the tune
+of "America." The prisoners were singing.
+
+Miss Eunice was not alone in her intended work, for there were several
+other ladies, also with supplies of flowers, who with her awaited until
+the prisoners should descend into the yard and be let loose before
+presenting them with what they had brought. Their common purpose made
+them acquainted, and by the aid of chat and sympathy they fortified each
+other.
+
+Half an hour later the five hundred men descended from the chapel to the
+yard, rushing out upon its bare broad surface as you have seen a burst
+of water suddenly irrigate a road-bed. A hoarse and tremendous shout at
+once filled the air, and echoed against the walls like the threat of a
+volcano. Some of the wretches waltzed and spun around like dervishes,
+some threw somersaults, some folded their arms gravely and marched up
+and down, some fraternized, some walked away pondering, some took off
+their tall caps and sat down in the shade, some looked toward the
+rotunda with expectation, and there were those who looked toward it with
+contempt.
+
+There led from the rotunda to the yard a flight of steps. Miss Eunice
+descended these steps with a quaking heart, and a turnkey shouted to the
+prisoners over her head that she and others had flowers for them.
+
+No sooner had the words left his lips, than the men rushed up pell-mell.
+
+This was a crucial moment.
+
+There thronged upon Miss Eunice an army of men who were being punished
+for all the crimes in the calendar. Each individual here had been caged
+because he was either a highwayman, or a forger, or a burglar, or a
+ruffian, or a thief, or a murderer. The unclean and frightful tide bore
+down upon our terrified missionary, shrieking and whooping. Every
+prisoner thrust out his hand over the head of the one in front of him,
+and the foremost plucked at her dress.
+
+She had need of courage. A sense of danger and contamination impelled
+her to fly, but a gleam of reason in the midst of her distraction
+enabled her to stand her ground. She forced herself to smile though she
+knew her face had grown pale.
+
+She placed a bunch of flowers into an immense hand which projected from
+a coarse blue sleeve in front of her; the owner of the hand was pushed
+away so quickly by those who came after him that Miss Eunice failed to
+see his face. Her tortured ear caught a rough "Thank y', miss!" The
+spirit of Miss Crofutt revived in a flash, and her disciple thereafter
+possessed no lack of nerve.
+
+She plied the crowd with flowers as long as they lasted, and a jaunty
+self possession enabled her finally to gaze without flinching at the
+mass of depraved and wicked faces with which she was surrounded. Instead
+of retaining her position upon the steps, she gradually descended into
+the yard, as did several other visitors. She began to feel at home; she
+found her tongue, and her color came back again. She felt a warm pride
+in noticing with what care and respect the prisoners treated her gifts;
+they carried them about with great tenderness, and some compared them
+with those of their friends.
+
+Presently she began to recall her plans. It occurred to her to select
+her two or three villains. For one, she immediately pitched upon a
+lean-faced wretch in front of her. He seemed to be old, for his back was
+bent and he leaned upon a cane. His features were large, and they bore
+an expression of profound gloom. His head was sunk upon his breast, his
+lofty conical cap was pulled over his ears, and his shapeless uniform
+seemed to weigh him down, so infirm was he.
+
+Miss Eunice spoke to him. He did not hear; she spoke again. He glanced
+at her like a flash, but without moving; this was at once followed by a
+scrutinizing look. He raised his head, and then he turned toward her
+gravely.
+
+The solemnity of his demeanor nearly threw Miss Eunice off her balance,
+but she mastered herself by beginning to talk rapidly. The prisoner
+leaned over a little to hear better. Another came up, and two or three
+turned around to look. She bethought herself of an incident related in
+Miss Crofutt's book, and she essayed its recital. It concerned a lawyer
+who was once pleading in a French criminal court in behalf of a man
+whose crime had been committed under the influence of dire want. In his
+plea he described the case of another whom he knew who had been punished
+with a just but short imprisonment instead of a long one, which the
+judge had been at liberty to impose, but from which he humanely
+refrained. Miss Eunice happily remembered the words of the lawyer: "That
+man suffered like the wrong-doer that he was. He knew his punishment was
+just. Therefore there lived perpetually in his breast an impulse toward
+a better life which was not suppressed and stifled by the five years he
+passed within the walls of the jail. He came forth and began to labor.
+He toiled hard. He struggled against averted faces and cold words, and
+he began to rise. He secreted nothing, faltered at nothing, and never
+stumbled. He succeeded; men took off their hats to him once more; he
+became wealthy, honorable, God-fearing. I, gentlemen, am that man, that
+criminal." As she quoted this last declaration Miss Eunice erected
+herself with burning eyes and touched herself proudly upon the breast. A
+flush crept into her cheeks, and her nostrils dilated, and she grew
+tall.
+
+She came back to earth again, and found herself surrounded with the
+prisoners. She was a little startled.
+
+"Ah, that was good!" ejaculated the old man upon whom she had fixed her
+eyes. Miss Eunice felt an inexpressible sense of delight.
+
+Murmurs of approbation came from all of her listeners, especially from
+one on her right hand. She looked around at him pleasantly.
+
+But the smile faded from her lips on beholding him. He was extremely
+tall and very powerful. He overshadowed her. His face was large, ugly,
+and forbidding; his gray hair and beard were cropped close, his eyebrows
+met at the bridge of his nose and overhung his large eyes like a screen.
+His lips were very wide, and, being turned downward at the corners, they
+gave him a dolorous expression. His lower jaw was square and protruding,
+and a pair of prodigious white ears projected from beneath his
+sugar-loaf cap. He seemed to take his cue from the old man, for he
+repeated his sentiment.
+
+"Yes," said he, with a voice which broke alternately into a roar and a
+whisper, "that was a good story."
+
+"Y-yes," faltered Miss Eunice, "and it has the merit of being t-rue."
+
+He replied with a nod, and looked absently over her head while he rubbed
+the nap upon his chin with his hand. Miss Eunice discovered that his
+knee touched the skirt of her dress, and she was about to move in order
+to destroy this contact, when she remembered that Miss Crofutt would
+probably have cherished the accident as a promoter of a valuable
+personal influence, so she allowed it to remain. The lean-faced man was
+not to be mentioned in the same breath with this one, therefore she
+adopted the superior villain out of hand.
+
+She began to approach him. She asked him where he lived, meaning to
+discover whence he had come. He replied in the same mixture of roar and
+whisper, "Six undered un one, North Wing."
+
+Miss Eunice grew scarlet. Presently she recovered sufficiently to pursue
+some inquiries respecting the rules and customs of the prison. She did
+not feel that she was interesting her friend, yet it seemed clear that
+he did not wish to go away. His answers were curt, yet he swept his cap
+off his head, implying by the act a certain reverence, which Miss
+Eunice's vanity permitted her to exult at. Therefore she became more
+loquacious than ever. Some men came up to speak with the prisoner, but
+he shook them off, and remained in an attitude of strict attention,
+with his chin on his hand, looking now at the sky, now at the ground and
+now at Miss Eunice.
+
+In handling the flowers her gloves had been stained, and she now held
+them in her fingers nervously twisting them as she talked. In the course
+of time she grew short of subjects, and as her listener suggested
+nothing, several lapses occurred; in one of them she absently spread her
+gloves out in her palms, meanwhile wondering how the English girl acted
+under similar circumstances.
+
+Suddenly a large hand slowly interposed itself between her eyes and her
+gloves, and then withdrew, taking one of the soiled trifles with it.
+
+She was surprised, but the surprise was pleasurable. She said nothing at
+first. The prisoner gravely spread his prize out upon his own palm, and
+after looking at it carefully, he rolled it up into a tight ball and
+thrust it deep in an inner pocket.
+
+This act made the philanthropist aware that she had made progress. She
+rose insensibly to the elevation of patron, and she made promises to
+come frequently and visit her ward and to look in upon him when he was
+at work; while saying this she withdrew a little from the shade his huge
+figure had supplied her with.
+
+He thrust his hands into his pockets, but he hastily took them out
+again. Still he said nothing and hung his head. It was while she was in
+the mood of a conqueror that Miss Eunice went away. She felt a touch of
+repugnance at stepping from before his eyes a free woman, therefore she
+took pains to go when she thought he was not looking.
+
+She pointed him out to a turnkey, who told her he was expiating the sins
+of assault and burglarious entry. Outwardly Miss Eunice looked grieved,
+but within she exulted that he was so emphatically a rascal.
+
+When she emerged from the cool, shadowy, and frowning prison into the
+gay sunlight, she experienced a sense of bewilderment. The significance
+of a lock and a bar seemed greater on quitting them than it had when she
+had perceived them first. The drama of imprisonment and punishment
+oppressed her spirit with tenfold gloom now that she gazed upon the
+brilliancy and freedom of the outer world. That she and everybody around
+her were permitted to walk here and there at will, without question and
+limit, generated within her an indefinite feeling of gratitude; and the
+noise, the colors, the creaking wagons, the myriad voices, the splendid
+variety and change of all things excited a profound but at the same time
+a mournful satisfaction.
+
+Midway in her return journey she was shrieked at from a carriage, which
+at once approached the sidewalk. Within it were four gay maidens bound
+to the Navy-Yard, from whence they were to sail, with a large party of
+people of nice assortment, in an experimental steamer, which was to be
+made to go with kerosene lamps, in some way. They seized upon her hands
+and cajoled her. Wouldn't she go? They were to sail down among the
+islands (provided the oil made the wheels and things go round), they
+were to lunch at Fort Warren, dine at Fort Independence, and dance at
+Fort Winthrop Come, please go. Oh, do! The Germanians were to furnish
+the music.
+
+Miss Eunice sighed, but shook her head. She had not yet got the air of
+the prison out of her lungs, nor the figure of her robber out of her
+eyes, nor the sense of horror and repulsion out of her sympathies.
+
+At another time she would have gone to the ends of the earth with such a
+happy crew, but now she only shook her head again and was resolute. No
+one could wring a reason from her, and the wondering quartet drove away.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+Before the day went, Miss Eunice awoke to the disagreeable fact that her
+plans had become shrunken and contracted, that a certain something had
+curdled her spontaneity, and that her ardor had flown out at some
+crevice and had left her with the dry husk of an intent.
+
+She exerted herself to glow a little, but she failed. She talked well
+at the tea-table, but she did not tell about the glove. This matter
+plagued her. She ran over in her mind the various doings of Miss
+Crofutt, and she could not conceal from herself that that lady had never
+given a glove to one of her wretches; no, nor had she ever permitted the
+smallest approach to familiarity.
+
+Miss Eunice wept a little. She was on the eve of despairing.
+
+In the silence of the night the idea presented itself to her with a
+disagreeable baldness. There was a thief over yonder that possessed a
+confidence with her.
+
+They had found it necessary to shut this man up in iron and stone, and
+to guard him with a rifle with a large leaden ball in it.
+
+This villain was a convict. That was a terrible word, one that made her
+blood chill.
+
+She, the admired of hundreds and the beloved of a family, had done a
+secret and shameful thing of which she dared not tell. In these solemn
+hours the madness of her act appalled her.
+
+She asked herself what might not the fellow do with the glove? Surely he
+would exhibit it among his brutal companions, and perhaps allow it to
+pass to and fro among them. They would laugh and joke with him, and he
+would laugh and joke in return, and no doubt he would kiss it to their
+great delight. Again, he might go to her friends, and, by working upon
+their fears and by threatening an exposure of her, extort large sums of
+money from them. Again, might he not harass her by constantly appearing
+to her at all times and all places and making all sorts of claims and
+demands? Again, might he not, with terrible ingenuity, use it in
+connection with some false key or some jack-in-the-box, or some
+dark-lantern, or something, in order to effect his escape; or might he
+not tell the story times without count to some wretched
+curiosity-hunters who would advertise her folly all over the country, to
+her perpetual misery?
+
+She became harnessed to this train of thought. She could not escape from
+it. She reversed the relation that she had hoped to hold toward such a
+man, and she stood in his shadow, and not he in hers.
+
+In consequence of these ever-present fears and sensations, there was one
+day, not very far in the future, that she came to have an intolerable
+dread of. This day was the one on which the sentence of the man was to
+expire. She felt that he would surely search for her; and that he would
+find her there could be no manner of doubt, for, in her surplus of
+confidence, she had told him her full name, inasmuch as he had told her
+his.
+
+When she contemplated this new source of terror, her peace of mind fled
+directly. So did her plans for philanthropic labor. Not a shred
+remained. The anxiety began to tell upon her, and she took to peering
+out of a certain shaded window that commanded the square in front of
+her house. It was not long before she remembered that for good behavior
+certain days were deducted from the convicts' terms of imprisonment.
+Therefore, her ruffian might be released at a moment not anticipated by
+her. He might, in fact, be discharged on any day. He might be on his way
+toward her even now.
+
+She was not very far from right, for suddenly the man did appear.
+
+He one day turned the corner, as she was looking out at the window
+fearing that she should see him, and came in a diagonal direction across
+the hot, flagged square.
+
+Miss Eunice's pulse leaped into the hundreds. She glued her eyes upon
+him. There was no mistake. There was the red face, the evil eyes, the
+large mouth, the gray hair, and the massive frame.
+
+What should she do? Should she hide? Should she raise the sash and
+shriek to the police? Should she arm herself with a knife? or--what? In
+the name of mercy, what? She glared into the street. He came on
+steadily, and she lost him, for he passed beneath her. In a moment she
+heard the jangle of the bell. She was petrified. She heard his heavy
+step below. He had gone into the little reception-room beside the door.
+He crossed to a sofa opposite the mantel. She then heard him get up and
+go to a window, then he walked about, and then sat down; probably upon a
+red leather seat beside the window.
+
+Meanwhile the servant was coming to announce him. From some impulse,
+which was a strange and sudden one, she eluded the maid, and rushed
+headlong upon her danger. She never remembered her descent of the
+stairs. She awoke to cool contemplation of matters only to find herself
+entering the room.
+
+Had she made a mistake, after all? It was a question that was asked and
+answered in a flash. This man was pretty erect and self-assured, but she
+discerned in an instant that there was needed but the blue woollen
+jacket and the tall cap to make him the wretch of a month before.
+
+He said nothing. Neither did she. He stood up and occupied himself by
+twisting a button upon his waistcoat. She, fearing a threat or a demand,
+stood bridling to receive it. She looked at him from top to toe with
+parted lips.
+
+He glanced at her. She stepped back. He put the rim of his cap in his
+mouth and bit it once or twice, and then looked out at the window. Still
+neither spoke. A voice at this instant seemed impossible.
+
+He glanced again like a flash. She shrank, and put her hands upon the
+bolt. Presently he began to stir. He put out one foot, and gradually
+moved forward. He made another step. He was going away. He had almost
+reached the door, when Miss Eunice articulated, in a confused whisper,
+"My--my glove; I wish you would give me my glove."
+
+He stopped, fixed his eyes upon her, and after passing his fingers up
+and down upon the outside of his coat, said, with deliberation, in a
+husky voice, "No, mum. I'm goin' fur to keep it as long as I live, if it
+takes two thousand years."
+
+"Keep it!" she stammered.
+
+"Keep it," he replied.
+
+He gave her an untranslatable look. It neither frightened her nor
+permitted her to demand the glove more emphatically. She felt her cheeks
+and temples and her hands grow cold, and midway in the process of
+fainting she saw him disappear. He vanished quietly. Deliberation and
+respect characterized his movements, and there was not so much as a jar
+of the outer door.
+
+Poor philanthropist!
+
+This incident nearly sent her to a sick-bed. She fully expected that her
+secret would appear in the newspapers in full, and she lived in dread of
+the onslaught of an angry and outraged society.
+
+The more she reflected upon what her possibilities had been and how she
+had misused them, the iller and the more distressed she got. She grew
+thin and spare of flesh. Her friends became frightened. They began to
+dose her and to coddle her. She looked at them with eyes full of supreme
+melancholy, and she frequently wept upon their shoulders.
+
+In spite of her precautions, however, a thunder-bolt slipped in.
+
+One day her father read at the table an item that met his eye. He
+repeated it aloud, on account of the peculiar statement in the last
+line:
+
+"Detained on suspicion.--A rough-looking fellow, who gave the name of
+Gorman, was arrested on the high-road to Tuxbridge Springs for suspected
+complicity in some recent robberies in the neighborhood. He was
+fortunately able to give a pretty clear account of his late whereabouts
+and he was permitted to depart with a caution from the justice. Nothing
+was found upon him but a few coppers and an old kid glove wrapped in a
+bit of paper."
+
+Miss Eunice's soup spilled. This was too much, and she fainted this time
+in right good earnest; and she straightway became an invalid of the
+settled type. They put her to bed. The doctor told her plainly that he
+knew she had a secret, but she looked at him so imploringly that he
+refrained from telling his fancies; but he ordered an immediate change
+of air. It was settled at once that she should go to the "Springs"--to
+Tuxbridge Springs. The doctor knew there were young people there, also
+plenty of dancing. So she journeyed thither with her pa and her ma and
+with pillows and servants.
+
+They were shown to their rooms, and strong porters followed with the
+luggage. One of them had her huge trunk upon his shoulder. He put it
+carefully upon the floor, and by so doing he disclosed the ex-prisoner
+to Miss Eunice and Miss Eunice to himself. He was astonished, but he
+remained silent. But she must needs be frightened and fall into another
+fit of trembling. After an awkward moment he went away, while she called
+to her father and begged piteously to be taken away from Tuxbridge
+Springs instantly. There was no appeal. She hated, _hated_, HATED
+Tuxbridge Springs, and she should die if she were forced to remain. She
+rained tears. She would give no reason, but she could not stay. No,
+millions on millions could not persuade her; go she must. There was no
+alternative. The party quitted the place within the hour, bag and
+baggage. Miss Eunice's father was perplexed and angry, and her mother
+would have been angry also if she had dared.
+
+They went to other springs and stayed a month, but the patient's fright
+increased each day, and so did her fever. She was full of distractions.
+In her dreams everybody laughed at her as the one who had flirted with a
+convict. She would ever be pursued with the tale of her foolishness and
+stupidity. Should he ever recover her self-respect and confidence?
+
+She had become radically selfish. She forgot the old ideas of
+noble-heartedness and self-denial, and her temper had become weak and
+childish. She did not meet her puzzle face to face, but she ran away
+from it with her hands over her ears. Miss Crofutt stared at her, and
+therefore she threw Miss Crofutt's book into the fire.
+
+After two days of unceasing debate, she called her parents, and with
+the greatest agitation told them _all_.
+
+It so happened, in this case, that events, to use a railroad phrase,
+made connection.
+
+No sooner had Miss Eunice told her story than the man came again. This
+time he was accompanied by a woman.
+
+"Only get my glove away from him," sobbed the unhappy one, "that is all
+I ask!" This was a fine admission! It was thought proper to bring an
+officer, and so a strong one was sent for.
+
+Meanwhile the couple had been admitted to the parlor. Miss Eunice's
+father stationed the officer at one door, while he, with a pistol, stood
+at the other. Then Miss Eunice went into the apartment. She was wasted,
+weak, and nervous. The two villains got up as she came in, and bowed.
+She began to tremble as usual, and laid hold upon the mantelpiece. "How
+much do you want?" she gasped.
+
+The man gave the woman a push with his forefinger. She stepped forward
+quickly with her crest up. Her eyes turned, and she fixed a vixenish
+look upon Miss Eunice. She suddenly shot her hand out from beneath her
+shawl and extended it at full length. Across it lay Miss Eunice's glove,
+very much soiled.
+
+"Was that thing ever yours?" demanded the woman, shrilly.
+
+"Y-yes," said Miss Eunice, faintly.
+
+The woman seemed (if the apt word is to be excused) staggered. She
+withdrew her hand, and looked the glove over. The man shook his head,
+and began to laugh behind his hat.
+
+"And did you ever give it to him?" pursued the woman, pointing over her
+shoulder with her thumb.
+
+Miss Eunice nodded.
+
+"Of your own free will?"
+
+After a moment of silence she ejaculated, in a whisper, "Yes."
+
+"Now wait," said the man, coming to the front; "'nough has been said by
+you." He then addressed himself to Miss Eunice with the remains of his
+laugh still illuminating his face.
+
+"This is my wife's sister, and she's one of the jealous kind. I love my
+wife" (here he became grave), "and I never showed her any kind of slight
+that I know of. I've always been fair to her, and she's always been fair
+to me. Plain sailin' so far; I never kep' anything from her--but this."
+He reached out and took the glove from the woman, and spread it out upon
+his own palm, as Miss Eunice had seen him do once before. He looked at
+it thoughtfully. "I wouldn't tell her about this; no, never. She was
+never very particular to ask me; that's where her trust in me came in.
+She knowed I was above doing anything out of the way--that is--I mean--"
+He stammered and blushed, and then rushed on volubly. "But her sister
+here thought I paid too much attention to it; she thought I looked at it
+too much, and kep' it secret. So she nagged and nagged, and kept the
+pitch boilin' until I had to let it out: I told 'em" (Miss Eunice
+shivered). "'No,' says she, my wife's sister, 'that won't do, Gorman.
+That's chaff, and I'm too old a bird.' Ther'fore I fetched her straight
+to you, so she could put the question direct."
+
+He stopped a moment as if in doubt how to go on. Miss Eunice began to
+open her eyes, and she released the mantel. The man resumed with
+something like impressiveness:
+
+"When you last held that," said he, slowly, balancing the glove in his
+hand, "I was a wicked man with bad intentions through and through. When
+I first held it I became an honest man, with good intentions."
+
+A burning blush of shame covered Miss Eunice's face and neck.
+
+"An' as I kep' it my intentions went on improvin' and improvin', till I
+made up my mind to behave myself in future, forever. Do you
+understand?--forever. No backslidin', no hitchin', no slippin'-up. I
+take occasion to say, miss, that I was beset time and again; that the
+instant I set my foot outside them prison-gates, over there, my old
+chums got round me; but I shook my head. 'No,' says I, 'I won't go back
+on the glove.'"
+
+Miss Eunice hung her head. The two had exchanged places, she thought;
+she was the criminal and he the judge.
+
+"An' what is more," continued he, with the same weight in his tone, "I
+not only kep' sight of the glove, but I kep' sight of the generous
+sperrit that gave it. I didn't let _that_ go. I never forgot what you
+meant. I knowed--I knowed," repeated he, lifting his forefinger--"I
+knowed a time would come when there wouldn't be any enthoosiasm, any
+'hurrah,' and then perhaps you'd be sorry you was so kind to me; an' the
+time did come."
+
+Miss Eunice buried her face in her hands and wept aloud.
+
+"But did I quit the glove? No, mum. I held on to it. It was what I
+fought by. I wasn't going to give it up, because it was asked for. All
+the police-officers in the city couldn't have took it from me. I put it
+deep into my pocket, and I walked out. It was differcult, miss. But I
+come through. The glove did it. It helped me stand out against
+temptation when it was strong. If I looked at it, I remembered that once
+there was a pure heart that pitied me. It cheered me up. After a while I
+kinder got out of the mud. Then I got work. The glove again. Then a girl
+that knowed me before I took to bad ways married me, and no questions
+asked. Then I just took the glove into a dark corner and blessed it."
+
+Miss Eunice was belittled.
+
+A noise was heard in the hallway. Miss Eunice's father and the policeman
+were going away.
+
+The awkwardness of the succeeding silence was relieved by the moving of
+the man and the woman They had done their errand, and were going.
+
+Said Miss Eunice, with the faint idea of making a practical apology to
+her visitor, "I shall go to the prison once a week after this, I think."
+
+"Then may God bless ye, miss," said the man. He came back with tears in
+his eyes and took her proffered hand for an instant. Then he and his
+wife's sister went away.
+
+Miss Eunice's remaining spark of charity at once crackled and burst into
+a flame. There is sure to be a little something that is bad in
+everybody's philanthropy when it is first put to use; it requires to be
+filed down like a faulty casting before it will run without danger to
+anybody. Samaritanism that goes off with half a charge is sure to do
+great mischief somewhere; but Miss Eunice's, now properly corrected,
+henceforth shot off at the proper end, and inevitably hit the mark. She
+purchased a new Crofutt.
+
+
+
+
+BROTHER SEBASTIAN'S FRIENDSHIP.
+
+BY HAROLD FREDERIC.
+
+
+I, who tell this story, am called Brother Sebastian. This name was given
+me more than forty years ago, while Louis Philippe was still king. My
+other name has been buried so long that I have nearly forgotten it. I
+think that my people are dead. At least I have heard nothing from them
+in many years. My reputation has always been that of a misanthrope--if
+not that, then of a dreamer. In the seminary I had no intimates. In the
+order, for I am a Brother of the Christian Schools, my associates are
+polite--nothing more. I seem to be outside their social circles, their
+plans, their enjoyments. True, I am an old man now. But in other years
+it was the same. All my life I have been in solitude.
+
+To this there is a single exception--one star shining in the blackness.
+And my career has been so bleak that, although it ended in deeper
+sadness than I had known before, I look back to the episode with
+gratitude. The bank of clouds which shut out this sole light of my life
+quickened its brilliancy before they submerged it.
+
+After the terrible siege of '71, when the last German was gone, and our
+houses had breasted the ordeal of the Commune, I was sent to the South.
+The Superior thought my cheeks were ominously hollow, and suspected
+threats of consumption in my cough. So I was to go to the Mediterranean,
+and try its milder air. I liked the change. Paris, with its gloss of
+noisy gayety and its substance of sceptical heartlessness, was repugnant
+to me. Perhaps it was because of this that Brother Sebastian had been
+mured up in the capital two thirds of his life. If our surroundings are
+too congenial we neglect the work set before us. But no matter; to the
+coast I went.
+
+My new home was a long-established house, spacious, venerable, and
+dreary. It was on the outskirts of an ancient town, which was of far
+more importance before our Lord was born than it has ever been since. We
+had little to do. There were nine brothers, a handful of resident
+orphans, and some three-score pupils. Ragged, stupid, big-eyed urchins
+they were, altogether different from the keen Paris boys. For that
+matter, every feature of my new home was odd. The heat of the summer was
+scorching in its intensity. The peasants were much more respectful to
+our cloth, and, as to appearance, looked like figures from Murillo's
+canvases. The foliage, the wine, the language, the manners of the
+people--everything was changed. This interested me, and my morbidness
+vanished. The Director was delighted with my improved condition. Poor
+man! he was positive that my cheeks had puffed out perceptibly after the
+first two months. So the winter came--a mild, wet, muggy winter, wholly
+unlike my favorite sharp season in the North.
+
+We were killing time in the library one afternoon, the Director and a
+Swiss Brother sitting by the lamp reading, I standing at one of the
+tall, narrow windows, drumming on the panes and dreaming. The view was
+not an inspiring one. There was a long horizontal line of pale yellow
+sky and another of flat, black land, out of which an occasional poplar
+raised itself solemnly. The great mass below the stripes was brown;
+above, gloomy gray. Close under the window two boys were playing in the
+garden of the house. I recall distinctly that they threw armfuls of wet
+fallen leaves at each other with a great shouting. While I stood thus,
+the Brother Servitor, Abonus, came in and whispered to the Director. He
+always whispered. It was not fraternal, but I did not like this Abonus.
+
+"Send him up here," said the Director. Then I remembered that I had
+heard the roll of a carriage and the bell ring a few moments before.
+Abonus came in again. Behind him there was some one else, whose
+footsteps had the hesitating sound of a stranger's. Then I heard the
+Director's voice:
+
+"You are from Algiers?"
+
+"I am, Brother."
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"Edouard, Brother."
+
+"Well, tell me more."
+
+"I was under orders to be in Paris in January, Brother. As my health was
+poor, I received permission to come back to France this autumn. At
+Marseilles I was instructed to come here. So I am here. I have these
+papers from the Mother house, and from Etienne, Director, of Algiers."
+
+Something in the voice seemed peculiar to me. I turned and examined the
+new-comer. He stood behind and to one side of the Director, who was
+laboriously deciphering some papers through his big horn spectacles. The
+light was not very bright, but there was enough to see a wonderfully
+handsome face, framed in dazzling black curls. Perhaps it looked the
+more beautiful because contrasted with the shaven gray poll and surly
+features of grim Abonus. But to me it was a dream of St. John the
+Evangel. The eyes of the face were lowered upon the Director, so I could
+only guess their brilliancy. The features were those of an extreme
+youth--round, soft, and delicate. The expression was one of utter
+fatigue, almost pain. It bore out the statement of ill-health.
+
+The Director had finished his reading. He lifted his head now and
+surveyed the stranger in turn. Finally, stretching out his fat hand, he
+said:
+
+"You are welcome, Brother Edouard. I see the letter says you have had no
+experience except with the youngest children. Brother Photius does that
+now. We will have you rest for a time. Then we will see about it.
+Meanwhile I will turn you over to the care of good Abonus, who will give
+you one of the north rooms."
+
+So the two went out, Abonus shuffling his feet disagreeably. It was
+strange that he could do nothing to please me.
+
+"Brother Sebastian," said the Director, as the door closed, "it is
+curious that they should have sent me a tenth man. Why, I lie awake now
+to invent pretences of work for those I have already. I will give up all
+show of teaching presently, and give out that I keep a hospital--a
+retreat for ailing brothers. Still, this Edouard is a pretty boy."
+
+"Very."
+
+"Etienne's letter says he is twenty and a Savoyard. He speaks like a
+Parisian."
+
+"Very likely he is seminary bred," put in the Swiss.
+
+"Whatever he is, I like his looks," said our Superior. This good man
+liked every one. His was the placid, easy Alsatian nature, prone to find
+goodness in all things--even crabbed Abonus. The Director, or, as he was
+known, Brother Elysee, was a stout, round little man, with a fine face
+and imperturbable good spirits. He was adored by all his subordinates.
+But I fancy he did not advance in favor at Paris very rapidly.
+
+I liked Edouard from the first. The day after he came we were together
+much, and, when we parted after vespers, I was conscious of a vast
+respect for this new-comer. He was bright, ready spoken, and almost a
+man of the world. Compared with my dull career, his short life had been
+one of positive gayety. He had seen Frederic le Maitre at the Comédie
+Française. He had been at Court and spoken with the Prince Imperial. He
+was on terms of intimacy with Monsignori, and had been a protégé of the
+sainted Darboy. It was a rare pleasure to hear him talk of these things.
+
+Before this, the ceaseless shifting of brothers from one house to
+another had been indifferent to me. For the hundreds of strangers who
+came and went in the Paris house on Oudinot Street I cared absolutely
+nothing, I did not suffer their entrance nor their exit to excite me.
+This was so much the case that they called me a machine. But with
+Edouard this was different. I grew to love the boy from the first
+evening, when, as he left my room, I caught myself saying, "I shall be
+sorry when he goes." He seemed to be fond of me, too. For that matter
+most of the brothers petted him, Elysee especially. But I was flattered
+that he chose me as his particular friend. For the first time my heart
+had opened.
+
+We were alone one evening after the holidays. It was cold without, but
+in my room it was warm and bright. The fire crackled merrily, and the
+candles gave out a mellow and pleasant light. The Director had gone up
+to Paris, and his mantle had fallen on me. Edouard sat with his feet
+stretched to the fender, his curly head buried in the great curved back
+of my invalid chair, the red fire-light reflected on his childish
+features. I took pleasure in looking at him. He looked at the coals and
+knit his brows as if in a puzzle. I often fancied that something
+weightier than the usual troubles of life weighed upon him. At last he
+spoke, just as I was about to question him:
+
+"Are you afraid to die, Sebastian?"
+
+Not knowing what else to say, I answered, "No, my child."
+
+"I wonder if you enjoy life in community?"
+
+This was still stranger. I could but reply that I had never known any
+other life; that I was fitted for nothing else.
+
+"But still," persisted he, "would you not like to leave it--to have a
+career of your own before you die? Do you think this is what a man is
+created for--to give away his chance to live?"
+
+"Edouard, you are interrogating your own conscience," I answered. "These
+are questions which you must have answered yourself, before you took
+your vows. When you answered them, you sealed them."
+
+Perhaps I spoke too harshly, for he colored and drew up his feet. Such
+shapely little feet they were. I felt ashamed of my crustiness.
+
+"But, Edouard," I added, "your vows are those of the novitiate. You are
+not yet twenty-eight. You have still the right to ask yourself these
+things. The world is very fair to men of your age. Do not dream that I
+was angry with you."
+
+He sat gazing into the fire. His face wore a strange, far-away
+expression, as he reached forth his hand, in a groping way, and rested
+it on my knee, clutching the gown nervously. Then he spoke slowly,
+seeking for words, and keeping his eye on the flames:
+
+"You have been good to me, Brother Sebastian. Let me ask you: May I tell
+you something in confidence--something which shall never pass your lips?
+I mean it."
+
+He had turned and poured those marvellous eyes into mine with
+irresistible magnetism. Of course I said, "Speak!" and I said it without
+the slightest hesitation.
+
+"I am not a Christian Brother. I do not belong to your order. I have no
+claim upon the hospitality of this roof. I am an impostor!"
+
+He ejected these astounding sentences with an energy almost fierce,
+gripping my knee meanwhile. Then, as suddenly, his grasp relaxed, and he
+fell to weeping bitterly.
+
+I stared at him solemnly, in silence. My tongue seemed paralyzed.
+Confusing thoughts whirled in a maze unbidden through my head. I could
+say nothing. But a strange impulse prompted me to reach out and take his
+hot hand in mine. It was piteous to hear him sobbing, his head upon his
+raised arm, his whole frame quivering with emotion. I had never seen any
+one weep like that before. So I sat dumb, trying in vain to answer this
+bewildering self-accusation. At last there came out of the folds of the
+chair the words, faint and tear-choked:
+
+"You have promised me secrecy, and you will keep your word; but you will
+hate me."
+
+"Why no, no, Edouard, not hate you," I answered, scarcely knowing what I
+said. I did not comprehend it at all. There was nothing more for me to
+say. Finally, when some power of thought returned, I asked:
+
+"Of all things, my poor boy, why should you choose such a dreary life as
+this? What possible reason led you to enter the community? What
+attractions has it for you?"
+
+Edouard turned again from the fire to me. His eyes sparkled. His teeth
+were tight set.
+
+"Why? Why? I will tell you why, Brother Sebastian. Can you not
+understand how a poor hunted beast should rejoice to find shelter in
+such an out-of-the-way place, among such kind men, in the grave of this
+cloister life? I have not told you half enough. Do you not know in the
+outside world, in Toulon, or Marseilles, or that fine Paris of yours,
+there is a price on my head?--or no, not that, but enemies that are
+looking for me, searching everywhere, turning every little stone for the
+poor privilege of making me suffer? And do you know that these enemies
+wear shakos, and are called gens d'armes? Would you be pleased to learn
+that it is a prison I escape by coming here? _Now_, will you hate me?"
+
+The boy had risen from his chair. He spoke hurriedly, almost
+hysterically, his eyes snapping at mine like coals, his curls
+dishevelled, his fingers curved and stiffened like the talons of a hawk.
+I had never seen such intense earnestness in a human face. Passions like
+these had never penetrated the convent walls before.
+
+While I sat dumb before them, Edouard left the room. I was conscious of
+his exit only in a vague way. For hours I sat in my chair beside the
+grate thinking, or trying to think. You can see readily that I was more
+than a little perplexed. In the absence of Elysee, I was director. The
+management of the house, its good fame, its discipline, all rested on my
+shoulders. And to be confronted by such an abyss as this! I could do
+absolutely nothing. The boy had tied my tongue by the pledge. Besides,
+had I been unsworn, I am sure the idea of exposure would never have come
+to me. It was late before I retired that night. And I recall with
+terrible distinctness the chaos of brain and faculty which ushered in a
+restless sleep almost as dawn was breaking.
+
+I had fancied that Brother Edouard would find life intolerable in
+community after his revelation to me. He would be chary of meeting me
+before the brothers; would be constantly tortured by fear of detection.
+As I saw this prospect of the poor innocent--for it was absurd to think
+of him as anything else--dreading exposure at each step in his false
+life, shrinking from observation, biting his tongue at every word--I was
+greatly moved by pity. Judge my surprise, then, when I saw him the next
+morning join in the younger brothers' regular walk around the garden,
+joking and laughing as I had never seen before. On his right was thin,
+sickly Victor, rest his soul! and on the other pursy, thick-necked John,
+as merry a soul as Cork ever turned out. And how they laughed, even the
+frail consumptive! It was a pleasure to see his blue eyes brighten with
+enjoyment and his warm cheeks blush. Above John's queer, Irish chuckle,
+I heard Edouard's voice, with its dainty Parisian accent, retailing
+jokes and leading in the laughter. The tramp was stretched out longer
+than usual, so pleasant did they find it. At this development I was much
+amazed.
+
+The same change was noticeable in all that Edouard did. Instead of the
+apathy with which he had discharged his nominal duties, his baby pupils
+(for Photius had gone to Peru) now became bewitched with him. He told
+them droll stories, incited their rivalry in study by instituting prizes
+for which they struggled monthly, and, in short, metamorphosed his
+department. The change spread to himself. His cheeks took on a ruddier
+hue, the sparkle of his black eyes mellowed into a calm and steady
+radiance. There was no trace of feverish elation which, in solitude,
+recoiled to the brink of despair. He sang to himself evenings in his
+dormitory, clearly and with joy. His step was as elastic as that of any
+school-boy. I often thought upon this change, and meditated how
+beautiful an illustration of confession's blessings it furnished.
+Frequently we were alone, but he never referred again to that memorable
+evening, even by implication. At first I dreaded to have the door close
+upon us, feeling that he must perforce seek to take up the thread where
+he had broken it then. But he talked of other things, and so easily and
+naturally that I felt embarrassed. For weeks I could not shake off the
+feeling that, at our next talk, he would broach the subject. But he
+never did.
+
+Elysee returned, bringing me kind words from the Mother house, and a
+half-jocular hint that Superior General Philippe had me much in his
+mind. No doubt there had been a time when the idea of becoming a
+Director would have stirred my pulses. Surely it was gone now. I asked
+for nothing but to stay beside Edouard, to watch him, and to be near to
+lend him a helping hand when his hour of trouble should come. From that
+ordeal, which I saw approaching clearly and certainly, I shrank with all
+my nerves on edge. As the object of my misery grew bright-eyed and
+strong, I felt myself declining in health. My face grew thin, and I
+could not eat. I saw before my eyes always this wretched boy singing
+upon the brow of the abyss. Sometimes I strove not to see his
+fall--frightful and swift. His secret seemed to harass him no longer.
+To me it was heavier than lead.
+
+The evening the Brother Director returned, we sat together in the
+reading-room, the entire community. Elysee had been speaking of the
+Mother-house, concerning which Brother Barnabas, an odd little Lorrainer
+who spoke better German than French, and who regarded Paris with the
+true provincial awe and veneration, exhibited much curiosity. We had a
+visitor, a gaunt, self-sufficient old Parisian, who had spent fourteen
+days in the Mazas prison during the Commune. I will call him Brother
+Albert, for his true name in religion is very well known.
+
+"I heard a curious story in the Vaugirard house," said the Brother
+Director, refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff, "which made the more
+impression upon me that I once knew intimately one of the persons in it.
+Martin Delette was my schoolmate at Pfalsbourg, in the old days. A fine,
+studious lad he was, too. He took orders and went to the north where he
+lived for many years a quiet country curé. He had a niece, a charming
+girl, who is not now more than twenty or one-and twenty. She was an
+orphan, and lived with him, going to a convent to school and returning
+at vacations. She was not a bad girl, but a trifle wayward and easily
+led. She gave the Sisters much anxiety. Last spring she barely escaped
+compromising the house by an escapade with a young _miserable_ of the
+town named Banin."
+
+"I know your story," said Albert, with an air which hinted that this
+was a sufficient reason why the rest should not hear it. "Banin is in
+prison."
+
+Elysee proceeded: "The girl was reprimanded. Next week she disappeared.
+To one of her companions she had confided a great desire to see Paris.
+So good Father Delette was summoned, and, after a talk with the
+Superioress, started post-haste for the capital. He found no signs
+either of poor Renée or of Banin, who had also disappeared. The Curé was
+nearly heart-broken. Each day, they told me, added a year to his
+appearance. He did not cease to importune the police chiefs and to haunt
+the public places for a glimpse of his niece's face. But the summer
+came, and no Renée. The Curé began to cough and grow weak. But one day
+in August the Director, good Prosper, called him down to the
+reception-room to see a visitor.
+
+"'There is news for you,'" he whispered, pressing poor Martin's hand.
+"In the room he found--"
+
+"In the room he found--" broke in Albert, impertinently, but with a
+quiet tone of authority which cowed good Elysee, "a shabby man, looking
+like a poorly-fed waiter. This person rose and said, 'I am a detective;
+do you know Banin--young man, tall, blonde, squints, broken tooth upper
+jaw, hat back on his head, much talk, hails from Rheims?'
+
+"'Ah,' said Delette, 'I have not seen him, but I know him too well.'
+
+"The detective pointed with his thumb over his left shoulder. 'He is in
+jail. He is good for twenty years. I did it myself. My name is
+so-and-so. Good job. Procurator said you were interested--some woman in
+the case, parishioner of yours, eh?'
+
+"'My niece,' gasped the Curé.
+
+"'O ho! does you credit; pretty girl, curly-head, good manners. Well,
+she's off. Good trick, too. She was the decoy. Banin stood in the shadow
+with club. She brought gentleman into alley, friend did work. That's
+Banin's story. Perhaps a lie. You have a brother in Algiers? Thought so.
+Girl went out there once? So I was told. Probably there now. African
+officers say not; but they're a sleepy lot. If I was a criminal, I'd go
+to Algiers. Good biding.' The detective went. Delette stood where he was
+in silence. I went to him, and helped carry him up-stairs. We put him in
+his bed. He died there."
+
+Brother Albert stopped. He had told the story, dialogue and all, like a
+machine. We did not doubt its correctness. The memory of Albert had
+passed into a proverb years before.
+
+Brother Albert raised his eyes again, and added, as if he had not
+paused, "He was ashamed to hold his head up. He might well be."
+
+A strange, excited voice rose from the other end of the room. I looked
+and saw that it was Edouard who spoke. He had half arisen from his chair
+and scowled at Albert, throwing out his words with the tremulous haste
+of a young man first addressing an audience:
+
+"Why should he be ashamed? Was he not a good man? Was the blame of his
+bad niece's acts his? From the story, she was well used and had no
+excuse. It is he who is to be pitied, not blamed!"
+
+The Brother Director smiled benignly at the young enthusiast. "Brother
+Edouard is right," he said. "Poor Martin was to be compassioned. None
+the less, my heart is touched for the girl. In Banin's trial it appeared
+that he maltreated her, and forced her to do what she did by blows. They
+were really married. Her neighbors gave Renée a name for gentleness and
+a good heart. Poor thing!"
+
+"And she never was found?" asked Abonus, eagerly. He spoke very rarely.
+He looked now at me as he spoke, and there was a strange, ungodly
+glitter in his eyes which made me shudder involuntarily.
+
+"Never," replied the Director, "although there is a reward, 5000 francs,
+offered for her recovery. Miserable child, who can tell what depths of
+suffering she may be in this moment?"
+
+"It would be remarkable if she should be found now, after all this
+time," said Abonus, sharply. His wicked, squinting old eyes were still
+fastened upon me. This time, as by a flash of eternal knowledge, I read
+their meaning, and felt the ground slipping from under me.
+
+I shall never forget the night that followed. I made no pretence of
+going to bed. Edouard's little dormitory was in another part of the
+house. I went once to see him, but dared not knock, since Abonus was
+stirring about just across the hall, in his own den. I scratched on a
+piece of paper "Fly!" in the dark, and pushed it under the door. Then I
+returned to walk my chamber, chafing like a wild beast. Ah, that night,
+that night!
+
+With the first cock crow in the village below, long before the bell, I
+left my room. I wanted air to breathe. I passed Abonus on the broad
+stairway. He strode up with unwonted vigor, bearing a heavy cauldron of
+water as if it had been straw. His gown was tumbled and dusty; his
+greasy _rabat_ hung awry about his neck. I had it in my head to speak
+with him, but could not. So the early hours, with devotions which I went
+through in a dream, wore on in horrible suspense, and breakfast came.
+
+We sat at the long table, five on a side, the Director--looking red-eyed
+and weary from the evening's unaccustomed dissipation--sitting at the
+head. Below us stood Brother Albert, reading from Tertullian in a dry,
+monotonous chant. I recall, as I write, how I found a certain comfort in
+those splendid, sonorous Latin sentences, though I was conscious of not
+comprehending a word. I dreaded the moment they should end. Edouard sat
+beside me. We had not exchanged a word during the morning. How could I
+speak? What should I say? I was in a nervous flutter, like unto those
+who watch the final pinioning of a criminal whose guillotine is awaiting
+him. I could not keep my eyes from the fair face beside me, with its
+delicately-cut profile, made all the more cameo-like by its pallid
+whiteness. The lips were tightly compressed. I could see askant that the
+tiny nostrils were quivering with excitement. All else was impassive on
+Edouard's face. We two sat waiting for the axe to fall.
+
+It is as distinct as a nightmare to me. Abonus came in with his great
+server laden with victuals. He stumbled as he approached. He too was
+excited. He drew near, and stood behind me. I seemed to feel his breath
+penetrate my skull; and yet I was forced to answer a whispered question
+of Brother John's with a smooth face. I saw Edouard suddenly reach for
+the milk glass in front of his plate, and hand it back to Abonus with
+the disdain of a duchess. He said, in a sharp, peremptory tone:
+
+"Take it away and cleanse it. No one but a dirty monk would place such a
+glass on the table."
+
+Albert ceased his reading. Abonus did not touch the glass. He shuffled
+hastily to the side-board and deposited his burden. Then he came back
+with the same eager movement. He placed his fists on his hips, like a
+fish-woman, and hissed, in a voice choking with concentrated rage--
+
+"No one but a woman would complain of it!"
+
+The brothers stared at each other and the two speakers in mute surprise.
+But they saw nothing in the words beyond a personal wrangle--though even
+that was such a novelty as to arrest instant attention. I busied myself
+with my plate. The Director assumed his harshest tone, and asked the
+cause of the altercation. Abonus leaned over and whispered something in
+his ear. I remember next a room full of confusion, a babel of
+conflicting voices, and a whirling glimpse of uniforms. Then I fainted.
+
+When I revived I was in my own room, stretched upon my pallet. I looked
+around in a dazed way and saw the Brother Director and a young gendarme
+by the closed door. Something black and irregular in the outline of the
+bed at my side attracted my eyes. I saw that it was Edouard's head
+buried in the drapery. As in a dream I laid my numb hand upon those
+crisp curls. I was an old man, she a weak, wretched girl. She raised her
+face at my touch, and burned in my brain a vision of stricken agony, of
+horrible soul-pain, which we liken, for want of a better simile, to the
+anguish in the eyes of a dying doe. Her lips moved; she said something,
+I know not what. Then she went, and I was left alone with Elysee. His
+words--broken, stumbling words--I remember:
+
+"She asked to see you, Sebastian, my friend. I could not refuse. Her
+papers were forged. She did come from Algiers, where her uncle is a
+Capuchin. I do not ask, I do not wish to know, how much you know of
+this. Before my Redeemer, I feel nothing but pity for the poor lamb. Lie
+still, my friend; try to sleep. We are both older men than we were
+yesterday."
+
+There is little else to tell. Only twice have reflections of this
+episode in my old life reached me in the seclusion of a missionary post
+at the foot of the Andes. I learned a few weeks ago that the wretched
+Abonus had bought a sailor's café on the Toulon wharves with his five
+thousand francs. And I know also that the heart of the Marshal-President
+was touched by the sad story of Renée, and that she left the prison La
+Salpetriere to lay herself in penitence at the foot of Mother Church.
+This is the story of my friendship.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 6, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11452 ***