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diff --git a/old/bnhld10.txt b/old/bnhld10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb04011 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bnhld10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10570 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Eben Holden, by Irving Bacheller + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + +*It must legally be the first thing seen when opening the book.* +In fact, our legal advisors said we can't even change margins. + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Eben Holden a Tale of the North Country + +by Irving Bacheller + + + + +PREFACE + +Early in the last century the hardy wood-choppers began to come +west, out of Vermont. They founded their homes in the +Adirondack wildernesses and cleared their rough acres with the +axe and the charcoal pit. After years of toil in a rigorous climate +they left their sons little besides a stumpy farm and a coon-skin +overcoat. Far from the centres of life their amusements, their +humours, their religion, their folk lore, their views of things had in +them the flavour of the timber lands, the simplicity of childhood. +Every son was nurtured in the love of honour and of industry, and +the hope of sometime being president. It is to be feared this latter +thing and the love of right living, for its own sake, were more in +their thoughts than the immortal crown that had been the +inspiration of their fathers. Leaving the farm for the more +promising life of the big city they were as men born anew, and +their second infancy was like that of Hercules. They had the +strength of manhood, the tireless energy of children and some hope +of the highest things. The pageant of the big town - its novelty, its +promise, its art, its activity - quickened their highest powers, put +them to their best effort. And in all great enterprises they became +the pathfinders, like their fathers in the primeval forest. + +This book has grown out of such enforced leisure as one may find +in a busy life. Chapters begun in the publicity of a Pullman car +have been finished in the cheerless solitude of a hotel chamber. +Some have had their beginning in a sleepless night and their end in +a day of bronchitis. A certain pious farmer in the north country +when, like Agricola, he was about to die, requested the doubtful +glory of this epitaph: 'He was a poor sinner, but he done his best' +Save for the fact that I am an excellent sinner, in a literary sense, +the words may stand for all the apology I have to make. + +The characters were mostly men and women I have known and +who left with me a love of my kind that even a wide experience +with knavery and misfortune has never dissipated. For my +knowledge of Mr Greeley I am chiefly indebted to David P. +Rhoades, his publisher, to Philip Fitzpatrick, his pressman, to the +files of the Tribune and to many books. + +IRVING BACHELLER +New York City, 7 April 1900 + + + + +BOOK ONE + + + +Chapter I + + +Of all the people that ever went west that expedition was the most +remarkable. + +A small boy in a big basket on the back of a jolly old man, who +carried a cane in one hand, a rifle in the other; a black dog serving +as scout, skirmisher and rear guard - that was the size of it. They +were the survivors of a ruined home in the north of Vermont, and +were travelling far into the valley of the St Lawrence, but with no +particular destination. + +Midsummer had passed them in their journey; their clothes were +covered with dust; their faces browning in the hot sun. It was a +very small boy that sat inside the basket and clung to the rim, his +tow head shaking as the old man walked. He saw wonderful +things, day after day, looking down at the green fields or peering +into the gloomy reaches of the wood; and he talked about them. + +'Uncle Eb - is that where the swifts are?' he would ask often; and +the old man would answer, 'No; they ain't real sassy this time o' +year. They lay 'round in the deep dingles every day.' + +Then the small voice would sing idly or prattle with an imaginary +being that had a habit of peeking over the edge of the basket or +would shout a greeting to some bird or butterfly and ask finally: +'Tired, Uncle Eb?' + +Sometimes the old gentleman would say 'not very', and keep on, +looking thoughtfully at the ground. Then, again, he would stop and +mop his bald head with a big red handkerchief and say, a little +tremor of irritation in his voice: 'Tired! who wouldn't be tired with +a big elephant like you on his back all day? I'd be 'shamed o' +myself t' set there an' let an old man carry me from Dan to +Beersheba. Git out now an' shake yer legs.' + +I was the small boy and I remember it was always a great relief to +get out of the basket, and having run ahead, to lie in the grass +among the wild flowers, and jump up at him as he came along. + +Uncle Eb had been working for my father five years before I was +born. He was not a strong man and had never been able to carry +the wide swath of the other help in the fields, but we all loved him +for his kindness and his knack of story-telling. He was a bachelor +who came over the mountain from Pleasant Valley, a little bundle +of clothes on his shoulder, and bringing a name that enriched the +nomenclature of our neighbourhood. It was Eben Holden. + +He had a cheerful temper and an imagination that was a very +wilderness of oddities. Bears and panthers growled and were very +terrible in that strange country. He had invented an animal more +treacherous than any in the woods, and he called it a swift. +'Sumthin' like a panther', he described the look of it a fearsome +creature that lay in the edge of the woods at sundown and made a +noise like a woman crying, to lure the unwary. It would light one's +eye with fear to hear Uncle Eb lift his voice in the cry of the swift. +Many a time in the twilight when the bay of a hound or some far +cry came faintly through the wooded hills, I have seen him lift his +hand and bid us hark. And when we had listened a moment, our +eyes wide with wonder, he would turn and say in a low, +half-whispered tone: ' 'S a swift' I suppose we needed more the fear +of God, but the young children of the pioneer needed also the fear +of the woods or they would have strayed to their death in them. + +A big bass viol, taller than himself, had long been the solace of his +Sundays. After he had shaved - a ceremony so solemn that it +seemed a rite of his religion - that sacred viol was uncovered. He +carried it sometimes to the back piazza and sometimes to the barn, +where the horses shook and trembled at the roaring thunder of the +strings. When he began playing we children had to get well out of +the way, and keep our distance. I remember now the look of him, +then - his thin face, his soft black eyes, his long nose, the suit of +broadcloth, the stock and standing collar and, above all, the +solemnity in his manner when that big devil of a thing was leaning +on his breast + +As to his playing I have never heard a more fearful sound in any +time of peace or one less creditable to a Christian. Weekdays he +was addicted to the milder sin of the flute and, after chores, if +there were no one to talk with him, he would sit long and pour his +soul into that magic bar of boxwood. + +Uncle Eb had another great accomplishment. He was what they +call in the north country 'a natural cooner'. After nightfall, when +the corn was ripening, he spoke in a whisper and had his ear +cocked for coons. But he loved all kinds of good fun. + +So this man had a boy in his heart and a boy in his basket that +evening we left the old house. My father and mother and older +brother had been drowned in the lake, where they had gone for a +day of pleasure. I had then a small understanding of my loss, hat I +have learned since that the farm was not worth the mortgage and +that everything had to be sold. Uncle Eb and I - a little lad, a very +little lad of six - were all that was left of what had been in that +home. Some were for sending me to the county house; but they +decided, finally, to turn me over to a dissolute uncle, with some +allowance for my keep. Therein Uncle Eb was to be reckoned +with. He had set his heart on keeping me, but he was a farm-hand +without any home or visible property and not, therefore, in the +mind of the authorities, a proper guardian. He had me with him in +the old house, and the very night he heard they were coming after +me in the morning, we started on our journey. I remember he was a +long time tying packages of bread and butter and tea and boiled +eggs to the rim of the basket, so that they hung on the outside. +Then he put a woollen shawl and an oilcloth blanket on the +bottom, pulled the straps over his shoulders and buckled them, +standing before the looking-glass, and, hang put on my cap and +coat, stood me on the table, and stooped so that I could climb into +the basket - a pack basket, that he had used in hunting, the top a +little smaller than the bottom. Once in, I could stand comfortably +or sit facing sideways, my back and knees wedged from port to +starboard. With me in my place he blew out the lantern and groped +his way to the road, his cane in one hand, his rifle in the other. +Fred, our old dog - a black shepherd, with tawny points - came +after us. Uncle Eb scolded him and tried to send him back, but I +pleaded for the poor creature and that settled it, he was one of our +party. + +'Dunno how we'll feed him,' said Uncle Eb. 'Our own mouths are +big enough t' take all we can carry, but I hain' no heart t' leave 'im +all 'lone there.' + +I was old for my age, they tell me, and had a serious look and a +wise way of talking, for a boy so young; but I had no notion of +what lay before or behind us. + +'Now, boy, take a good look at the old house,' I remember he +whispered to me at the gate that night ''Tain't likely ye'll ever see it +ag'in. Keep quiet now,' he added, letting down the bars at the foot +of the lane. 'We're goin' west an' we mustn't let the grass grow +under us. Got t'be purty spry I can'tell ye.' + +It was quite dark and he felt his way carefully down the cow-paths +into the broad pasture. With every step I kept a sharp lookout for +swifts, and the moon shone after a while, making my work easier. + +I had to hold my head down, presently, when the tall brush began +to whip the basket and I heard the big boots of Uncle Eb ripping +the briars. Then we came into the blackness of the thick timber +and I could hear him feeling his way over the dead leaves with his +cane. I got down, shortly, and walked beside him, holding on to the +rifle with one hand. We stumbled, often, and were long in the trail +before we could see the moonlight through the tree columns. In the +clearing I climbed to my seat again and by and by we came to the +road where my companion sat down resting his load on a boulder. + +'Pretty hot, Uncle Eb, pretty hot,' he said to himself, fanning his +brow with that old felt hat he wore everywhere. 'We've come three +mile er more without a stop an' I guess we'd better rest a jiffy.' + +My legs ached too, and I was getting very sleepy. I remember the +jolt of the basket as he rose, and hearing him say, 'Well, Uncle Eb, +I guess we'd better be goin'.' + +The elbow that held my head, lying on the rim of the basket, was +already numb; but the prickling could no longer rouse me, and +half-dead with weariness, I fell asleep. Uncle Eb has told me since, +that I tumbled out of the basket once, and that he had a time of it +getting me in again, but I remember nothing more of that day's +history. + +When I woke in the morning, I could hear the crackling of fire, and +felt very warm and cosy wrapped in the big shawl. I got a cheery +greeting from Uncle Eb, who was feeding the fire with a big heap +of sticks that he had piled together. Old Fred was licking my hands +with his rough tongue, and I suppose that is what waked me. Tea +was steeping in the little pot that hung over the fire, and our +breakfast of boiled eggs and bread and butter lay on a paper beside +it. I remember well the scene of our little camp that morning. We +had come to a strange country, and there was no road in sight. A +wooded hill lay back of us, and, just before, ran a noisy little +brook, winding between smooth banks, through a long pasture into +a dense wood. Behind a wall on the opposite shore a great field of +rustling corn filled a broad valley and stood higher than a man's +head. + +While I went to wash my face in the clear water Uncle Eb was +husking some ears of corn that he took out of his pocket, and had +them roasting over the fire in a moment. We ate heartily, giving +Fred two big slices of bread and butter, packing up with enough +remaining for another day. Breakfast over we doused the fire and +Uncle Eb put on his basket He made after a squirrel, presently, +with old Fred, and brought him down out of a tree by hurling +stones at him and then the faithful follower of our camp got a bit +of meat for his breakfast. We climbed the wall, as he ate, and +buried ourselves in the deep corn. The fragrant, silky tassels +brushed my face and the corn hissed at our intrusion, crossing its +green sabers in our path. Far in the field my companion heaped a +little of the soft earth for a pillow, spread the oil cloth between +rows and, as we lay down, drew the big shawl over us. Uncle Eb +was tired after the toil of that night and went asleep almost as soon +as he was down. Before I dropped off Fred came and licked my +face and stepped over me, his tail wagging for leave, and curled +upon the shawl at my feet. I could see no sky in that gloomy green +aisle of corn. This going to bed in the morning seemed a foolish +business to me that day and I lay a long time looking up at the +rustling canopy overhead. I remember listening to the waves that +came whispering out of the further field, nearer and nearer, until +they swept over us with a roaring swash of leaves, like that of +water flooding among rocks, as I have heard it often. A twinge of +homesick ness came to me and the snoring of Uncle Eb gave me +no comfort. I remember covering my head and crying softly as I +thought of those who had gone away and whom I was to meet in a +far country, called Heaven, whither we were going. I forgot my +sorrow, finally, in sleep. When I awoke it had grown dusk under +the corn. I felt for Uncle Eb and he was gone. Then I called to him. + +'Hush, boy! lie low,' he whispered, bending over me, a sharp look +in his eye.' 'Fraid they're after us.' + +He sat kneeling beside me, holding Fred by the collar and +listening. I could hear voices, the rustle of the corn and the tramp +of feet near by. It was thundering in the distance - that heavy, +shaking thunder that seems to take hold of the earth, and there +were sounds in the corn like the drawing of sabers and the rush of +many feet. The noisy thunder clouds came nearer and the voices +that had made us tremble were no longer heard. Uncle Eb began to +fasten the oil blanket to the stalks of corn for a shelter. The rain +came roaring over us. The sound of it was like that of a host of +cavalry coming at a gallop. We lay bracing the stalks, the blanket +tied above us and were quite dry for a time. The rain rattled in the +sounding sheaves and then came flooding down the steep gutters. +Above us beam and rafter creaked, swaying, and showing glimpses +of the dark sky. The rain passed - we could hear the last battalion +leaving the field - and then the tumult ended as suddenly as it +began. The corn trembled a few moments and hushed to a faint +whisper. Then we could hear only the drip of raindrops leaking +through the green roof. It was dark under the corn. + +Chapter 2 + +We heard no more of the voices. Uncle Eb had brought an armful +of wood, and some water in the teapot, while I was sleeping. As +soon as the rain had passed he stood listening awhile and shortly +opened his knife and made a little clearing in the corn by cutting a +few hills. + +'We've got to do it,' he said, 'er we can't take any comfort, an' the +man tol' me I could have all the corn I wanted.' + +'Did you see him, Uncle Eb?' I remember asking. + +'Yes,' he answered, whittling in the dark. 'I saw him when I went +out for the water an' it was he tol' me they were after us.' + +He took a look at the sky after a while, and, remarking that he +guessed they couldn't see his smoke now, began to kindle the fire. +As it burned up he stuck two crotches and hung his teapot on a +stick' that lay in them, so it took the heat of the flame, as I had seen +him do in the morning. Our grotto, in the corn, was shortly as +cheerful as any room in a palace, and our fire sent its light into the +long aisles that opened opposite, and nobody could see the warm +glow of it but ourselves. + +'We'll hev our supper,' said Uncle Eb, as he opened a paper and +spread out the eggs and bread and butter and crackers. 'We'll jest +hev our supper an' by 'n by when everyone's abed we'll make tracks +in the dirt, I can'tell ye.' + +Our supper over, Uncle Eb let me look at his tobacco-box - a shiny +thing of German silver that always seemed to snap out a quick +farewell to me before it dove into his pocket. He was very cheerful +and communicative, and joked a good deal as we lay there waiting +in the firelight. I got some further acquaintance with the swift, +learning among other things that it had no appetite for the pure in +heart. + +'Why not?' I enquired. + +'Well,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's like this: the meaner the boy, the sweeter +the meat.' + +He sang an old song as he sat by the fire, with a whistled interlude +between lines, and the swing of it, even now, carries me back to +that far day in the fields. I lay with my head in his lap while he was +singing. + +Years after, when I could have carried him on my back' he wrote +down for me the words of the old song. Here they are, about as he +sang them, although there are evidences of repair, in certain lines, +to supply the loss of phrases that had dropped out of his memory: + +I was goin' to Salem one bright summer day, +I met a young maiden a goin' my way; +O, my fallow, faddeling fallow, faddel away. + +An' many a time I had seen her before, +But I never dare tell 'er the love thet I bore. +O, my fallow, etc. + +'Oh, where are you goin' my purty fair maid?' +'O, sir, I am goin' t' Salem,' she said. +O, my fallow, etc. + +'O, why are ye goin' so far in a day? +Fer warm is the weather and long is the way.' +O, my fallow, etc. + +'O, sir I've forgorten, I hev, I declare, +But it's nothin' to eat an' its nothin' to wear.' +O, my fallow, etc. + +'Oho! then I hev it, ye purty young miss! +I'll bet it is only three words an' a kiss.' +O, my fallow, etc. + +'Young woman, young woman, O how will it dew +If I go see yer lover 'n bring 'em t' you?' +O, my fallow, etc. + +''S a very long journey,' says she, 'I am told, +An' before ye got back, they would surely be cold.' +O, my fallow, etc. + +'I hev 'em right with me, I vum an' I vow, +An' if you don't object I'll deliver 'em now.' +O, my fallow, etc. + +She laid her fair head all on to my breast, +An' ye wouldn't know more if I tol' ye the rest +O, my fallow, etc. + +I went asleep after awhile in spite of all, right in the middle of a +story. The droning voice of Uncle Eb and the feel of his hand upon +my forehead called me back, blinking, once or twice, but not for +long. The fire was gone down to a few embers when Uncle Eb +woke me and the grotto was lit only by a sprinkle of moonlight +from above. + +'Mos' twelve o'clock,' he whispered. 'Better be off.' + +The basket was on his back and he was all ready. I followed him +through the long aisle of corn, clinging to the tall of his coat. The +golden lantern of the moon hung near the zenith and when we +came out in the open we could see into the far fields. I climbed +into my basket at the wall and as Uncle Eb carried me over the +brook, stopping on a flat rock midway to take a drink, I could see +the sky in the water, and it seemed as if a misstep would have +tumbled me into the moon. + +'Hear the crickets holler,' said Uncle Eb, as he followed the bank +up into the open pasture. + +'What makes 'em holler?' I asked. + +'O, they're jes' filin' their saws an' thinktin'. Mebbe tellin' o' what's +happened 'em. Been a hard day fer them little folks. Terrible flood +in their country. Everyone on em hed t' git up a steeple quick 'she +could er be drownded. They hev their troubles an' they talk 'bout +'em, too.' + +'What do they file their saws for?' I enquired. + +'Well, ye know,' said he, 'where they live the timber's thick an' they +hev hard work clearin' t' mek a home.' + +I was getting too sleepy for further talk. He made his way from +field to field, stopping sometimes to look off at the distant +mountains then at the sky or to whack the dry stalks of mullen with +his cane. I remember he let down some bars after a long walk and +stepped into a smooth roadway. He stood resting a little while, his +basket on the top bar, and then the moon that I had been watching +went down behind the broad rim of his hat and I fell into utter +forgetfulness. My eyes opened on a lovely scene at daylight Uncle +Eb had laid me on a mossy knoll in a bit of timber and through an +opening right in front of us I could see a broad level of shining +water, and the great green mountain on the further shore seemed to +be up to its belly in the sea. + +'Hello there!' said Uncle Eb; 'here we are at Lake Champlain.' + +I could hear the fire crackling and smell the odour of steeping tea. + +'Ye flopped 'round like a fish in thet basket,' said Uncle Eb. ''Guess +ye must a been drearnin' O' bears. Jumped so ye scairt me. Didn't +know but I had a wil' cat on my shoulders.' + +Uncle Eb had taken a fish-line out of his pocket and was tying it to +a rude pole that he had cut and trinmed with his jack-knife. + +'I've found some crawfish here,' he said, 'an' I'm goin' t' try fer a bite +on the p'int O' rocks there.' + +'Goin' t' git some fish, Uncle Eb?' I enquired. + +'Wouldn't say't I was, er wouldn't say't I wasn't,' he answered. 'Jes +goin' t' try.' + +Uncle Eb was always careful not to commit himself on a doubtful +point. He had fixed his hook and sinker in a moment and then we +went out on a rocky point nearby and threw off into the deep +water. Suddenly Uncle Eb gave a jerk that brought a groan out of +him and then let his hook go down again, his hands trembling, his +face severe. + +'By mighty! Uncle Eb,' he murtered to himself, 'I thought we hed +him thet time.' + +He jerked again presently, and then I could see a tug on the line +that made me jump. A big fish came thrashing into the air in a +minute. He tried to swing it ashore, but the pole bent and the fish +got a fresh hold of the water and took the end of the pole under. +Uncle Eb gave it a lift then that brought it ashore and a good bit of +water with it. I remember how the fish slapped me with its wet tail +and sprinkled my face shaking itself between my boots. It was a +big bass and in a little while we had three of them. Uncle Eb +dressed them and laid them over the fire on a gridiron of green +birch, salting them as they cooked. I remember they went with a +fine relish and the last of our eggs and bread and butter went with +them. + +Our breakfast over, Uncle Eb made me promise to stay with Fred +and the basket while he went away to find a man who could row us +across. In about an hour I heard a boat coming and the dog and I +went out on the point of rocks where we saw Uncle Eb and another +man, heading for us, half over the cove. The bow bumped the +rocks beneath us in a minute. Then the stranger dropped his oars +and stood staring at me and the dog. + +'Say, mister,' said he presently, 'can't go no further. There's a +reward offered fer you an' thet boy.' + +Uncle Eb called him aside and was talking to him a long time. + +I never knew what was said, but they came at last and took us into +the boat and the stranger was very friendly. + +When we had come near the landing on the 'York State' side, I +remember he gave us our bearmgs. + +'Keep t' the woods,' he said, 'till you're out o' harm's way. Don't go +near the stage road fer a while. Ye'll find a store a little way up the +mountain. Git yer provisions there an' about eighty rod farther ye'll +strike the trail. It'll take ye over the mountain north an' t' Paradise +Road. Then take the white church on yer right shoulder an' go +straight west' + +I would not have remembered it so well but for the fact that Uncle +Eb wrote it all down in his account book and that has helped me +over many a slippery place in my memory of those events. At the +store we got some crackers and cheese, tea and coffee, dried beef +and herring, a bit of honey and a loaf of bread that was sliced and +buttered before it was done up. We were off in the woods by nine +o'clock, according to Uncle Eb's diary, and I remember the trail led +us into thick brush where I had to get out and walk a long way. It +was smooth under foot, however, and at noon we came to a slash +in the timber, full of briars that were all aglow with big +blackberries. We filled our hats with them and Uncle Eb found a +spring, beside which we built a fire and had a memorable meal +that made me glad of my hunger. + +Then we spread the oilcloth and lay down for another sleep. We +could see the glow of the setting sun through the tree-tops when +we woke, and began our packing. + +'We'll hev t' hurry,' said Uncle Eb, 'er we'll never git out o' the +woods t'night 'S 'bout six mile er more t' Paradise Road, es I mek it. +Come, yer slower 'n a toad in a tar barrel.' + +We hurried off on the trail and I remember Fred looked very +crestfallen withtwo big packages tied to his collar. He delayed a bit +by trying to shake them off, but Uncle Eb gave him a sharp word +or two and then he walked along very thoughtfully. Uncle Eb was +a little out of patience that evening, and I thought he bore down +too harshly in his rebuke of the old dog. + +'You shif'less cuss,' he said to him, 'ye'd jes' dew nothin' but chase +squirrels an' let me break my back t' carry yer dinner.' + +It was glooming fast in the thick timber, and Uncle Eb almost ran +with me while the way was plain. The last ringing note of the +wood thrush had died away and in a little while it was so dark I +could distinguish nothing but the looming mass of tree tranks. + +He stopped suddenly and strained his eyes in the dark. Then he +whistled a sharp, sliding note, and the sound of it gave me some +hint of his trouble. + +'Git down, Willie,' said he, 'an' tek my hand. I'm 'fraid we're lost +here 'n the big woods.' + +We groped about for a minute, trying to find the trail. + +'No use,' he said presently, 'we'll hev t' stop right here. Oughter +known berter 'n t' come through s' near sundown. Guess it was +more 'n anybody could do.' + +He built a fire and began to lay out a supper for us then, while Fred +sat down by me to be relieved of his bundles. Our supper was +rather dry, for we had no water, but it was only two hours since we +left the spring, so we were not suffering yet Uncle Eb took out of +the fire a burning brand of pine and went away into the gloomy +woods, holding it above his head, while Fred and I sat by the fire. + +''S lucky we didn't go no further,' he said, as he came in after a few +-minutes. 'There's a big prec'pice over yender. Dunno how deep 't +is. Guess we'd a found out purty soon.' + +He cut some boughs of hemlock, growing near us, and spread them +in a little hollow. That done, we covered them with the oilcloth, +and sat down comfortably by the fire. Uncle Eb had a serious look +and was not inclined to talk or story telling. Before turning in he +asked me to kneel and say my prayer as I had done every evening +at the feet of my mother. I remember, clearly, kneeling before my +old companion and hearing the echo of my small voice there in the +dark and lonely woods. + +I remember too, and even more clearly, how he bent his head and +covered his eyes in that brief moment. I had a great dread of +darkness and imagined much evil of the forest, but somehow I had +no fear if he were near me. When we had fixed the fire and lain +down for the night on the fragrant hemlock and covered ourselves +with the shawl, Uncle Eb lay on one side of me and old Fred on the +other, so I felt secure indeed. The night had many voices there in +the deep wood. Away in the distance I could hear a strange, wild +cry, and I asked what it was and Uncle Eb whispered back,' 's a +loon.' Down the side of the mountain a shrill bark rang in the +timber and that was a fox, according to my patient oracle. Anon +we heard the crash and thunder of a falling tree and a murmur that +followed in the wake of the last echo. + +'Big tree fallin'!' said Uncle Eb, as he lay gaping. 'It has t' break a +way t' the ground an' it must hurt. Did ye notice how the woods +tremble? If we was up above them we could see the hole thet tree +hed made. Jes' like an open grave till the others hev filed it with +their tops.' + +My ears had gone deaf with drowsiness when a quick stir in the +body of Uncle Eb brought me back to my senses. He was up on his +elbow listening and the firelight had sunk to a glimmer. Fred lay +shivering and growling beside me. I could hear no other sound. + +'Be still,' said Uncle Eb, as he boxed the dog's ears. Then he rose +and began to stir the fire and lay on more wood. As the flame +leaped and threw its light into the tree-tops a shrill cry, like the +scream of a frightened woman, only louder and more terrible to +hear brought me to my feet, crying. I knew the source of it was +near us and ran to Uncle Eb in a fearful panic. + +'Hush, boy,' said he as it died away and went echoing in the far +forest. 'I'll take care o' you. Don't be scairt. He's more 'fraid uv us +than we are o' him. He's makin' off now.' + +We heard then a great crackling of dead brush on the mountain +above us. It grew fainter as we listened. In a little while the woods +were silent. + +'It's the ol' man o' the woods,' said Uncle Eb. 'E's out takin' a walk.' + +'Will he hurt folks?' I enquired. + +'Tow!' he answered, 'jest as harmless as a kitten.' + +Chapter 3 + +Naturally there were a good many things I wanted to know about +'the ol' man o' the woods,' but Uncle Eb would take no part in any +further conversation. + +So I had to lie down beside him again and think out the problem as +best I could. My mind was never more acutely conscious and it +gathered many strange impressions, wandering in the kingdom of +Fear, as I looked up at the tree-tops. Uncle Eb had built a furious +fire and the warmth of it made me sleepy at last. Both he and old +Fred had been snoring a long time when I ceased to hear them. +Uncle Eb woke me at daylight, in the morning, and said we must +be off to find the trail. He left me by the fire a little while and went +looking on all sides and came back no wiser. We were both thirsty +and started off on rough footing, without stopping to eat. We +climbed and crawled for hours, it seemed to me, and everywhere +the fallen tree trunks were heaped in our way. Uncle Eb sat down +on one of them awhile to rest. + +'Like the bones o' the dead,' said he, as he took a chew of tobacco +and picked at the rotten skeleton of a fallen tree. We were both +pretty well out of breath and of hope also, if I remember rightly, +when we rested again under the low hanging boughs of a basswood +for a bite of luncheon. Uncle Eb opened the little box of honey and +spread some of it on our bread and butter. In a moment I noticed +that half a dozen bees had lit in the open box. + +'Lord Harry! here's honey bees,' said he, as he covered the box so as +to keep them in, and tumbled everything else into the basket. +'Make haste now, Willie, and follow me with all yer might,' he +added. + +In a minute he let out one of the bees, and started running in the +direction it flew. It went but a few feet and then rose into the +tree-top. + +'He's goin' t' git up into the open air,' said Uncle Eb. 'But I've got +his bearins' an' I guess he knows the way all right.' + +We took the direction indicated for a few minutes and then Uncle +Eb let out another prisoner. The bee flew off a little way and then +rose in a slanting course to the tree-tops. He showed us, however, +that we were looking the right way. + +'Them little fellers hev got a good compass,' said Uncle Eb, as we +followed the line of the bees. 'It p'ints home ev'ry time, an' never +makes a mistake.' + +We went further this time before releasing another. He showed us +that we had borne out of our course a little and as we turned to +follow there were half a dozen bees flying around the box, as if +begging for admission. + +'Here they are back agin,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they've told a lot o' +their cronies 'bout the man an' the boy with honey.' + +At length one of them flew over our heads and back in the +direction we had come from. + +'Ah, ha,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's a bee tree an' we've passed it, but I'm +goin' t' keep lettin' 'em in an' out. Never heard uv a swarm o' bees +goin' fur away an' so we mus' be near the clearin'.' + +In a little while we let one go that took a road of its own. The +others had gone back over our heads; this one bore off to the right +in front of us, and we followed. I was riding in the basket and was +first to see the light of the open through the tree-tops. But I didn't +know what it meant until I heard the hearty 'hurrah' of Uncle Eb. + +We had come to smooth footing in a grove of maples and the clean +trunks of the trees stood up as straight as a granite column. +Presently we came out upon wide fields of corn and clover, and as +we looked back upon the grove it had a rounded front and I think +of it now as the vestibule of the great forest + +'It's a reg'lar big tomb,' said Uncle Eb, looking back over his +shoulder into the gloomy cavern of the woods. + +We could see a log house in the clearing, and we made for it as +fast as our legs would carry us. We had amighty thirst and when +we came to a little brook in the meadow we laid down and drank +and drank until we were fairly grunting with fullness. Then we +filled our teapot and went on. Men were reaping with their cradles +in a field of grain and, as we neared the log house, a woman came +out in the dooryard and, lifting a shell to her lips, blew a blast that +rushed over the clearing and rang in the woods beyond it A loud +halloo came back from the men. + +A small dog rushed out at Fred, barking, and, I suppose, with some +lack of respect, for the old dog laid hold of him in a violent temper +and sent him away yelping. We must have presented an evil aspect, +for our clothes were torn and we were both limping with fatigue. +The woman had a kindly face and, after looking at us a moment, +came and stooped before me and held my small face in her hands +turning it so she could look into my eyes. + +'You poor little critter,' said she, 'where you goin'?' + +Uncle Eb told her something about my father and mother being +dead and our going west Then she hugged and kissed me and made +me very miserable, I remember, wetting my face with her tears, +that were quite beyond my comprehension. + +'Jethro,' said she, as the men came into the yard, 'I want ye t' look +at this boy. Did ye ever see such a cunnin' little critter? Jes' look at +them bright eyes!' and then she held me to her breast and nearly +smothered me and began to hum a bit of an old song. + +'Yer full o' mother love,' said her husband, as he sat down on the +grass a moment 'Lost her only baby, an' the good Lord has sent no +other. I swan, he has got putty eyes. Jes' as blue as a May flower. +Ain't ye hungry? Come right in, both o' ye, an' set down t' the table +with us.' + +They made room for us and we sat down between the bare elbows +of the hired men. I remember my eyes came only to the top of the +table. So the good woman brought the family Bible and sitting on +that firm foundation I ate my dinner of salt pork and potatoes and +milk gravy a diet as grateful as it was familiar to my taste. + +'Orphan, eh?' said the man of the house, looking down at me. + +'Orphan,' Uncle Eb answered, nodding his head. + +'God-fearin' folks?' + +'Best in the world,' said Uncle Eb. + +Want t' bind 'im out?' the man asked. + +'Couldn't spare 'im,' said Uncle Eb, decisively. + +'Where ye goin'?' + +Uncle Eb hesitated, groping for an answer, I suppose, that would +do no violence to our mutual understanding. + +'Goin' t' heaven,' I ventured to say presently - an answer that gave +rise to conflicting emotions at the table. + +'That's right,' said Uncle Eb, turning to me and patting my head. +'We're on the road t' heaven, I hope, an' ye'll see it someday, sartin +sure, if ye keep in the straight road and be a good boy.' + +After dinner the good woman took off my clothes and put me in +bed while she mended them. I went asleep then and did not awake +for a long time. When I got up at last she brought a big basin of +water and washed me with such motherly tenderness in voice and +manner that I have never forgotten it. Uncle Eb lay sleeping on the +lounge and when she had finished dressing me, Fred and I went out +to play in the garden. It was supper time in a little while and then, +again, the woman winded the shell and the men came up from the +field. We sat down to eat with them, as we had done at noon, and +Uncle Eb consented to spend the night after some urging. He +helped them with the milking, and as I stood beside him shot a jet +of the warm white flood into my mouth, that tickled it so I ran +away laughing. The milking done, I sat on Uncle Eb's knee in the +door-yard with all the rest of that household, hearing many tales of +the wilderness, and of robbery and murder on Paradise Road. I got +the impression that it was a country of unexampled wickedness +and ferocity in men and animals. One man told about the ghost of +Burnt Bridge; how the bridge had burnt one afternoon and how a +certain traveller in the dark of the night driving down the hill +above it, fell to his death at the brink of the culvert. + +'An' every night since then,' said the man, very positively, ye can +hear him drivin' down thet bill - jes' as plain as ye can hear me +talkin' -the rattle o' the wheels an' all. It stops sudden an' then ye +can hear 'im hit the rocks way down there at the bottom O' the +gulley an' groan an' groan. An' folks say it's a curse on the town for +leavin' thet hole open.' + +'What's a ghost, Uncle Eb?' I whispered. + +'Somethin' like a swift,' he answered, 'but not so powerful. We +heard a panther las' night,' he added, turning to our host. 'Hollered +like sin when he see the fire.' + +'Scairt!' said the man o' the house gaping. 'That's what ailed him. +I've lived twenty year on Paradise Road an' it was all woods when I +put up the cabin. Seen deer on the doorstep an' bears in the garden, +an' panthers in the fields. But I tell ye there's no critter so terrible +as a man. All the animals know 'im - how he roars, an' spits fire an' +smoke an' lead so it goes through a body er bites off a leg, mebbe. +Guess they'd made friends with me but them I didn't kill went away +smarting with holes in 'em. An' I guess they told all their people +'bout me - the terrible critter that walked on its hind legs an' lied a +white face an' drew up an' spit 'is teeth into their vitals 'cross a +ten-acre lot. An' putty soon they concluded they didn't want t' hev +no truck with me. They thought thin clearin' was the valley o' death +an' they got very careful. But the deer they kep' peekin' in at me. +Sumthin' funny 'bout a deer - they're so cu'rus. Seem's though they +loved the look o' me an' the taste o' the tame grass. Mebbe God +meant em t' serve in the yoke some way an' be the friend o' man. +They're the outcasts o' the forest - the prey o' the other animals an' +men like 'em only when they're dead. An' they're the purtiest critter +alive an' the spryest an' the mos' graceful.' + +'Men are the mos' terrible of all critters, an' the meanest,' said +Uncle Eb. 'They're the only critters that kill fer fun.' + +'Bedtime,' said our host, rising presently. 'Got t' be up early 'n the +morning.' + +We climbed a ladder to the top floor of the cabin with the hired +men, of whom there were two. The good lady of the house had +made a bed for us on the floor and I remember Fred came up the +ladder too, and lay down beside us. Uncle Eb was up with the men +in the morning and at breakfast time my hostess came and woke +me with kisses and helped me to dress. When we were about going +she brought a little wagon out of the cellar that had been a playing +of her dead boy, and said I could have it. This wonderful wagon +was just the thing for the journey we were making. When I held +the little tongue in my hand I was half-way to heaven already. It +had four stout wheels and a beautiful red box. Her brother had sent +it all the way from New York and it had stood so long in the cellar +it was now much in need of repair. Uncle Eb took it to the tool +shop in the stable and put it in shipshape order and made a little +pair of thills to go in place of the tongue. Then he made a big flat +collar and a back-pad out of the leather in old boot-legs, and rigged +a pair of tugs out of two pieces of rope. Old Fred was quite cast +down when he stood in harness between the shafts. + +He had waited patiently to have his collar fitted; he had grinned +and panted and wagged his tail with no suspicion of the serious +and humiliating career he was entering upon. Now he stood with a +sober face and his aspect was full of meditation. + +'You fightin' hound!' said Uncle Eb, 'I hope this'll improve yer +character.' + +Fred tried to sit down when Uncle Eb tied a leading rope to his +collar. When he heard the wheels rattle and felt the pull of the +wagon he looked back at it and growled a little and started to run. +Uncle Eb shouted 'whoa', and held him back, and then the dog got +down on his belly and trembled until we patted his head and gave +him a kind word. He seemed to understand presently and came +along with a steady stride. Our hostess met us at the gate and the +look of her face when she bade us goodbye and tucked some +cookies into my pocket, has always lingered in my memory and +put in me a mighty respect for all women. The sound of her voice, +the tears, the waving of her handkerchief, as we went away, are +among the things that have made me what I am. + +We stowed our packages in the wagon box and I walked a few +miles and then got into the empty basket. Fred tipped his load over +once or twice, but got a steady gait in the way of industry after a +while and a more cheerful look. We had our dinner by the roadside +on the bank of a brook, an hour or so after midday, and came to a +little village about sundown. As we were nearing it there was some +excitement among the dogs and one of them tackled Fred. He went +into battle very promptly, the wagon jumping and rattling until it +turned bottom up. Re-enforced by Uncle Eb's cane he soon saw the +heels of his aggressor and stood growling savagely. He was like +the goal in a puzzle maze all wound and tangled in his harness and +it took some time to get his face before him and his feet free. + +At a small grocery where groups of men, just out of the fields, +were sitting, their arms bare to the elbows, we bought more bread +and butter. In paying for it Uncle Eb took a package out of his +trouser pocket to get his change. It was tied in a red handkerchief +and I remember it looked to be about the size of his fist. He was +putting it back when it fell from his hand, heavily, and I could hear +the chink of coin as it struck. One of the men, who sat near, picked +it up and gave it back to him. As I remember well, his kindness +had an evil flavour, for he winked at his companions, who nudged +each other as they smiled knowingly. Uncle Eb was a bit cross, +when I climbed into the basket, and walked along in silence so +rapidly it worried the dog to keep pace. The leading rope was tied +to the stock of the rifle and Fred's walking gait was too slow for +the comfort of his neck. + +'You shifless cuss! I'll put a kink in your neck fer you if ye don't +walk up,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked back at the dog, in a temper +wholly unworthy of him. + +We had crossed a deep valley and were climbing a long hill in the +dusky twilight + +'Willie,' said Uncle Eb, 'your eyes are better'n mine - look back +and see if anyone's comin'.' + +'Can't see anyone,' I answered. + +'Look 'way back in the road as fur as ye can see. + +I did so, but I could see no one. He slackened his pace a little after +that and before we had passed the hill it was getting dark. The road +ran into woods and a river cut through them a little way from the +clearing. + +'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' I suggested, as we came to the bridge. + +'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' he answered, turning down to the shore. + +I got out of the basket then and followed him in the brush. Fred +found it hard travelling here and shortly we took off his harness +and left the wagon, transferring its load to the basket, while we +pushed on to find a camping place. Back in the thick timber a long +way from the road, we built a fire and had our supper. It was a dry +nook in the pines -'tight as a house,' Uncle Eb said - and carpeted +with the fragrant needles. When we lay on our backs in the +firelight I remember the weary, droning voice of Uncle Eb had an +impressive accompaniment of whispers. While he told stories 1 +had a glowing cinder on the end of a stick and was weaving fiery +skeins in the gloom. + +He had been telling me of a panther he had met in the woods, one +day, and how the creature ran away at the sight of him. + +'Why's a panther 'fraid o' folks?' I enquired. + +'Wall, ye see, they used t' be friendly, years 'n years ago - folks 'n +panthers - but they want eggszac'ly cal'lated t' git along t'gether +some way. An' ol' she panther gin 'em one uv her cubs, a great +while ago, jes t' make frien's. The cub he grew big 'n used t' play 'n +be very gentle. They wuz a boy he tuk to, an' both on 'em got very +friendly. The boy 'n the panther went off one day 'n the woods - +guess 'twas more 'n a hundred year ago - an' was lost. Walked all +over'n fin'ly got t' gom' round 'n round 'n a big circle 'til they was +both on 'em tired out. Come night they lay down es hungry es tew +bears. The boy he was kind o' 'fraid 'o the dark, so he got up clus t' +the panther 'n lay 'tween his paws. The boy he thought the panther +smelt funny an' the panther he didn't jes' like the smell o' the boy. +An' the boy he hed the legache 'n kicked the panther 'n the belly, so +'t he kin' o' gagged 'n spit an' they want neither on 'em reel +comf'able. The sof paws o' the panther was jes' like pincushions. +He'd great hooks in 'em sharper 'n the p'int uv a needle. An' when +he was goin' t' sleep he'd run 'em out jes' like an ol' cat - kind o' +playflil - 'n purr 'n pull. All t' once the boy felt sumthin' like a lot o' +needles prickin' his back. Made him jump 'n holler like Sam Hill. +The panther he spit sassy 'n riz up 'n smelt o' the ground. Didn't +neither on 'em know what was the matter. Bime bye they lay down +ag'in. 'Twant only a little while 'fore the boy felt somethin' prickin' +uv him. He hollered 'n kicked ag'in. The panther he growled 'n spit +'n dumb a tree 'n sot on a limb 'n peeked over at thet queer little +critter. Couldn't neither on 'em understan' it. The boy c'u'd see the +eyes o' the panther 'n the dark. Shone like tew live coals eggszac'ly. +The panther 'd never sot 'n a tree when he was hungry, 'n see a boy +below him. Sumthin' tol' him t' jump. Tail went swish in the leaves +like thet. His whiskers quivered, his tongue come out. C'u'd think +o' nuthin' but his big empty belly. The boy was scairt. He up with +his gun quick es a flash. Aimed at his eyes 'n let 'er flicker. Blew a +lot o' smoke 'n bird shot 'n paper waddin' right up in t' his face. The +panther he lost his whiskers 'n one eye 'n got his hide fill' o' shot 'n +fell off the tree like a ripe apple 'n run fer his life. Thought he'd +never see nuthin' c'u'd growl 'n spits ' powerful es thet boy. Never +c'u'd bear the sight uv a man after thet. Allwus made him gag 'n +spit t' think o' the man critter. Went off tew his own folks 'n tol' o' +the boy 'at spit fire 'n smoke 'n growled so't almos' tore his ears off +An' now, whenever they hear a gun go off they allwus thank it's the +man critter growlin'. An' they gag 'n spit 'n look es if it made 'em +sick t' the stomach. An' the man folks they didn't hev no good +'pimon o' the panthers after thet. Haint never been frien's any more. +Fact is a man, he can be any kind uv a beast, but a panther he can't +be nuthin' but jest a panther.' + +Then, too, as we lay there in the firelight, Uncle Eb told the +remarkable story of the gingerbread hear. He told it slowly, as if +his invention were severely taxed. + +'Once they wuz a boy got lost. Was goin' cross lots t' play with +'nother boy 'n lied t' go through a strip o' woods. Went off the trail +t' chase a butterfly 'n got lost. Hed his kite 'n' cross-gun 'n' he +wandered all over 'til he was tired 'n hungry. Then he lay down t' +cry on a bed o' moss. Putty quick they was a big black bear come +along. + +'"What's the matter?" said the bear. + +'"Hungry," says the boy. + +'"Tell ye what I'll dew," says the bear. "If ye'll scratch my back fer +me I'll let ye cut a piece o' my tail off t' eat." + +'Bear's tail, ye know, hes a lot o' meat on it - heam tell it was gran' +good fare. So the boy he scratched the bear's back an' the bear he +grinned an' made his paw go patitty-pat on the ground - it did feel +so splendid. Then the boy tuk his jack-knife 'n begun t' cut off the +bear's tail. The bear he flew mad 'n growled 'n growled so the boy +he stopped 'n didn't dast cut no more. + +'"Hurts awful," says the bear. "Couldn't never stan' it. Tell ye what +I'll dew. Ye scratched my back an' now I'll scratch your'n." + +'Gee whiz!' said I. + +'Yessir, that's what the bear said,' Uncle Eb went on. 'The boy he +up 'n run like a nailer. The bear he laughed hearty 'n scratched the +ground like Sam Hill, 'n flung the dirt higher'n his head. + +'"Look here," says he, as the boy stopped, "I jes' swallered a piece o +mutton. Run yer hand int' my throat an I'll let ye hev it." + +'The bear he opened his mouth an' showed his big teeth.' + +'Whew!' I whistled. + +'Thet's eggszac'ly what he done,' said Uncle Eb. 'He showed 'em +plain. The boy was scairter'n a weasel. The bear he jumped up 'an +down on his hind legs 'n laughed 'n' hollered 'n' shook himself + +'"Only jes' foolin," says he, when he see the boy was goin' t' run +ag'in. "What ye 'fraid uv?" + +'"Can't bear t' stay here," says the boy, 'less ye'll keep yer mouth +shet." + +'An the bear he shet his mouth 'n pinted to the big pocket 'n his fur +coat 'n winked 'n motioned t' the boy. + +'The bear he reely did hev a pocket on the side uv his big fur coat. +The boy slid his hand in up t' the elbow. Wha' d'ye s'pose he +found?' + +'Durmo,' said I. + +'Sumthin' t' eat,' he continued. 'Boy liked it best uv all things.' + +I guessed everything I could think of, from cookies to beefsteak, +and gave up. + +'Gingerbread,' said he, soberly, at lengrh. + +'Thought ye said bears couldn't talk" I objected. + +'Wall, the boy 'd fell asleep an' he'd only dreamed o' the bear,' said +Uncle Eb. 'Ye see, bears can'talk when boys are dreamin' uv 'em. +Come daylight, the boy got up 'n ketched a crow. Broke his wing +with the cross-gun. Then he tied the kite swing on t' the crow's leg, +an' the crow flopped along 'n the boy followed him 'n bime bye +they come out a cornfield, where the crow'd been used t' comin' fer +his dinner.' + +'What 'come o' the boy?' said I. + +'Went home,' said he, gaping, as he lay on his back and looked up +at the tree-tops. 'An' he allwus said a bear was good comp'ny if he'd +only keep his mouth shet - jes' like some folks I've hearn uv.' + +'An' what 'come o' the crow?' + +'Went t' the ol' crow doctor 'n got his wing fixed,' he said, drowsily. +And in a moment I heard him snoring. + +We had been asleep a long time when the barking of Fred woke us. +I could just see Uncle Eb in the dim light of the fire, kneeling +beside me, the rifle in his hand. + +'I'll fill ye full o' lead if ye come any nearer,' he shouted. + +Chapter 4 + +We listened awhile then but heard no sound in the thicket, +although Fred was growling ominously, his hair on end. As for +myself I never had a more fearful hour than that we suffered +before the light of morning came. + +I made no outcry, but clung to my old companion, trembling. He +did not stir for a few minutes, and then we crept cautiously into the +small hemlocks on one side of the opening. + +'Keep still,' he whispered, 'don't move er speak.' + +Presently we heard a move in the brush and then quick as a flash +Uncle Eb lifted his rifle and fired in the direction of it Before the +loud echo had gone off in the woods we heard something break +through the brush at a run. + +''S a man,' said Uncle Eb, as he listened. 'He ain't a losin' no time +nuther.' + +We sat listening as the sound grew fainter, and when it ceased +entirely Uncle Eb said he must have got to the road. After a little +the light of the morning began sifting down through the tree-tops +and was greeted with innumerable songs. + +'He done noble,' said Uncle Eb, patting the old dog as he rose to +poke the fire. 'Putty good chap I call 'im! He can hev half o' my +dinner any time he wants it.' + +'Who do you suppose it was?' I enquired. + +'Robbers, I guess,' he answered, 'an' they'll be layin' fer us when we +go out, mebbe; but, if they are, Fred'll frnd 'em an' I've got Ol' +Trusty here 'n' I guess thet'll take care uv us.' + +His rifle was always flattered with that name of Ol' Trusty when it +had done him a good turn. + +Soon as the light had come clear he went out in the near woods +with dog and rifle and beat around in the brush. He returned +shortly and said he had seen where they came and went. + +'I'd a killed em deader 'n a door nail,' said he, laying down the old +rifle, 'if they'd a come any nearer.' + +Then we brought water from the river and had our breakfast. Fred +went on ahead of us, when we started for the road, scurrying +through the brush on both sides of the trail, as if he knew what was +expected of him. He flushed a number of partridges and Uncle Eb +killed one of them on our way to the road. We resumed our +journey without any further adventure. It was so smooth and level +under foot that Uncle Eb let me get in the wagon after Fred was +hitched to it The old dog went along soberly and without much +effort, save when we came to hills or sandy places, when I always +got out and ran on behind. Uncle Eb showed me how to brake the +wheels with a long stick going downhill. I remember how it hit the +dog's heels at the first down grade, and how he ran to keep out of +the way of it We were going like mad in half a minute, Uncle Eb +coming after us calling to the dog. Fred only looked over his +shoulder, with a wild eye, at the rattling wagon and ran the harder. +He leaped aside at the bottom and then we went all in a heap. +Fortunately no harm was done. + +'I declare!' said Uncle Eb as he came up to us, puffing like a spent +horse, and picked me up unhurt and began to untangle the harness +of old Fred, 'I guess he must a thought the devil was after him.' + +The dog growled a little for a moment and bit at the harness, but +coaxing reassured him and he went along all right again on the +level. At a small settlement the children came out and ran along +beside my wagon, laughing and asking me questions. Some of +them tried to pet the dog, but old Fred kept to his labour at the +heels of Uncle Eb and looked neither to right nor left. We stopped +under a tree by the side of a narrow brook for our dinner, and one +incident of that meal I think of always when I think of Uncle Eb. It +shows the manner of man he was and with what understanding and +sympathy he regarded every living thing. In rinsing his teapot he +accidentally poured a bit of water on a big bumble-bee. The poor +creature struggled to lift hill, and then another downpour caught +him and still another until his wings fell drenched. Then his breast +began heaving violently, his legs stiffened behind him and he sank, +head downward, in the grass. Uncle Eb saw the death throes of the +bee and knelt down and lifted the dead body by one of its wings. + +'Jes' look at his velvet coat,' he said, 'an' his wings all wet n' stiff. + +They'll never carry him another journey. It's too bad a man has t' +kill every step he takes.' + +The bee's tail was moving faintly and Uncle Eb laid him out in the +warm sunlight and fanned him awhile with his hat, trying to bring +back the breath of life. + +'Guilty!' he said, presently, coming back with a sober face. 'Thet's a +dead bee. No tellin' how many was dependent on him er what +plans he bed. Must a gi'n him a lot o' pleasure t' fly round in the +sunlight, workin' every fair day. 'S all over now.' + +He had a gloomy face for an hour after that and many a time, in +the days that followed, I heard him speak of the murdered bee. + +We lay resting awhile after dinner and watching a big city of ants. +Uncle Eb told me how they tilled the soil of the mound every year +and sowed their own kind of grain - a small white seed like rice - +and reaped their harvest in the late surnmer, storing the crop in +their dry cellars under ground. He told me also the story of the ant +lion - a big beetle that lives in the jungles of the grain and the +grass - of which I remember only an outline, more or less +imperfect. + +Here it is in my own rewording of his tale: On a bright day one of +the little black folks went off on a long road in a great field of +barley. He was going to another city of his own people to bring +helpers for the harvest. He came shortly to a sandy place where the +barley was thin and the hot sunlight lay near to the ground. In a +little valley close by the road of the ants he saw a deep pit, in the +sand, with steep sides sloping to a point in the middle and as big +around as a biscuit. Now the ants are a curious people and go +looking for things that are new and wonderful as they walk abroad, +so they have much to tell worth hearing after a journey. The little +traveller was young and had no fear, so he left the road and went +down to the pit and peeped over the side of it. + +'What in the world is the meaning of this queer place?' he asked +himself as he ran around the rim. In a moment he had stepped over +and the soft sand began to cave and slide beneath him. Ouick as a +flash the big lion-beetle rose up in the centre of the pit and began +to reach for him. Then his legs flew in the caving sand and the +young ant struck his blades in it to hold the little he could gain. +Upward he struggled, leaping and floundering in the dust. He had +got near the rim and had stopped, clinging to get his breath, when +the lion began flinging the sand at him with his long feelers. It rose +in a cloud and fell on the back of the ant and pulled at him as it +swept down. He could feel the mighty cleavers of the lion striking +near his hind legs and pulling the sand from under them. He must +go down m a moment and he knew what that meant. He had heard +the old men of the tribe tell often - how they hold one helpless and +slash him into a dozen pieces. He was letting go, in despair, when +he felt a hand on his neck. Looking up he saw one of his own +people reaching over the rim, and in a jiffy they had shut their +fangs together. He moved little by little as the other tagged at him, +and in a moment was out of the trap and could feel the honest +earth under him. When they had got home and told their adventure, +some were for going to slay the beetle. + +'There is never a pit in the path o' duty,' said the wise old chief of +the little black folks. 'See that you keep in the straight road.' + +'If our brother had not left the straight road,' said one who stood +near, 'he that was in danger would have gone down into the pit.' + +'It matters much,' he answered, 'whether it was kindness or +curiosity that led him out of the road. But he that follows a fool +hath much need of wisdom, for if he save the fool do ye not see +that he hath encouraged folly?' + +Of course I had then no proper understanding of the chiefs +counsel, nor do I pretend even to remember it from that first +telling, but the tale was told frequently in the course of my long +acquaintance with Uncle Eb. + +The diary of my good old friend lies before me as I write, the +leaves turned yellow and the entries dim. I remember how stern he +grew of an evening when he took out this sacred little record of our +wanderings and began to write in it with his stub of a pencil. He +wrote slowly and read and reread each entry with great care as I +held the torch for him. 'Be still, boy - be still,' he would say when +some pressing interrogatory passed my lips, and then he would +bend to his work while the point of his pencil bored further into +my patience. Beginning here I shall quote a few entries from the +diary as they cover, with sufficient detail, an uneventful period of +our journey. + +AUGUST 20 Killed a partridge today. Biled it in the teapot for +dinner. Went good. 14 mild. + +AUGUST 21 Seen a deer this morning. Fred fit ag'in. Come near +spilin' the wagon. Hed to stop and fix the ex. 10 mild. + +AUGUST 22 Clumb a tree this morning after wild grapes. Come +near falling. Gin me a little crickin the back. Willie hes got a stun +bruze. 12 mild. + +AUGUST 23 Went in swinmun. Ketched a few fish before +breaklus'. Got provisions an' two case knives an' one fork, also one +tin pie-plate. Used same to fry fish for dinner. 14 mild. + +AUGUST 24 Got some spirits for Willie to rub on my back. Boots +wearing out. Terrible hot. Lay in the shade in the heat of the day. +Gypsies come an' camped by us tonight. 10 mild. + +I remember well the coming of those gypsies. We were fishing in +sight of the road and our fire was crackling on the smooth cropped +shore. The big wagons of the gypsies - there were four of them as +red and beautiful as those of a circus caravan - halted about +sundown while the men came over a moment to scan'the field. +Presently they went back and turned their wagons into the siding +and began to unhitch. Then a lot of barefooted children, and +women under gay shawls, overran the field gathering wood and +making ready for night. Meanwhile swarthy drivers took the horses +to water and tethered them with long ropes so they could crop the +grass of the roadside. + +One tall, bony man, with a face almost as black as that of an +Indian, brought a big iron pot and set it up near the water. A big +stew of beef bone, leeks and potatoes began to cook shortly, and I +remember it had such a goodly smell I was minded to ask them for +a taste of it. A little city of strange people had surrounded us of a +sudden. Uncle Eb thought of going on, but the night was coming +fast and there would be no moon and we were footsore and hungry. +Women and children came over to our fire, after supper, and made +more of me than I liked. I remember taking refuge between the +knees of Uncle Eb, and Fred sat close in front of us growling +fiercely when they came too near. They stood about, looking down +at us and whispered together, and one young miss of the tribe came +up and tried to kiss me in spite of Fred's warnings: She had +flashing black eyes and hair as dark as the night, that fell in a +curling mass upon her shoulders; but, somehow, I had a mighty +fear of her and fought with desperation to keep my face from the +touch of her red lips. Uncle Eb laughed and held Fred by the +collar, and I began to cry out in terror, presently, when, to my great +relief, she let go and ran away to her own people. They all went +away to their wagons, save one young man, who was tall with light +hair and a fair skin, and who looked like none of the other gypsies. + +'Take care of yourself,' he whispered, as soon as the rest had gone. +'These are bad people. You'd better be off' + +The young man left us and Uncle Eb began to pack up at once. +They were going to bed in their wagons when we came away. I +stood in the basket and Fred drew the wagon that had in it only a +few bundles. A mile or more finther on we came to a lonely, +deserted cabin close to the road. It had began to thunder in the +distance and the wind was blowing damp. + +'Guess nobody lives here,' said Uncle Eb as he turned in at the +sagging gate and began to cross the little patch of weeds and +hollyhocks behind it 'Door's half down, but I guess it'll de beeter'n +no house. Goin' t' rain sartin.' + +I was nodding a little about then, I remember; but I was wide +awake when he took me out of the basket The old house stood on a +high hill, and we could see the stars of heaven through the ruined +door and one of the back windows. Uncle Eb lifted the leaning +door a little and shoved it aside. We heard then a quick stir in the +old house - a loud and ghostly rattle it seems now as I think of it - +like that made by linen shaking on the line. Uncle Eb took a step +backward as if it had startled him. + +'Guess it's nuthin' to be 'fraid of;' he said, feeling in the pet of his +coat He had struck a match in a moment. By its flickering light I +could see only a bit of rubbish on the floor. + +'Full o' white owls,' said he, stepping inside, where the rustling was +now continuous. 'They'll do us no harm.' + +I could see them now flying about under the low ceiling. Uncle Eb +gathered an gathered an armful of grass and clover, in the near +field, and spread it in a corner well away from the ruined door and +windows. Covered with our blanket it made a fairly comfortable +bed. Soon as we had lain down, the rain began to rattle on the +shaky roof and flashes of lightning lit every comer of the old room. + +I have had, ever, a curious love of storms, and, from the time when +memory began its record in my brain, it has delighted me to hear at +night the roar of thunder and see the swift play of the lightning. I +lay between Uncle Eb and the old dog, who both went asleep +shortly. Less wearied I presume than either of them, for I had done +none of the carrying, and had slept along time that day in the shade +of a tree, I was awake an hour or more after they were snoring. +Every flash lit the old room like the full glare of the noonday sun. I +remember it showed me an old cradle, piled full of rubbish, a rusty +scythe hung in the rotting sash of a window, a few lengths of +stove-pipe and a plough in one comer, and three staring white owls +that sat on a beam above the doorway. The rain roared on the old +roof shortly, and came dripping down through the bare boards +above us. A big drop struck in my face and I moved a little. Then I +saw what made me hold my breath a moment and cover my head +with the shawl. A flash of lightning revealed a tall, ragged man +looking in at the doorway. I lay close to Uncle Eb imagining much +evil of that vision but made no outcry. + +Snugged in between my two companions I felt reasonably secure +and soon fell asleep. The sun, streaming in at the open door, +roused me in the morning. At the beginning of each day of our +journey I woke to find Uncle Eb cooking at the fire. He was lying +beside me, this morning, his eyes open. + +'Fraid I'm hard sick,' he said as I kissed him. + +'What's the matter?' I enquired. + +He struggled to a sitting posture, groaning soit went to my heart. + +'Rheumatiz,' he answered presently. + +He got to his feet, little by little, and every move he made gave +him great pain. With one hand on his cane and the other on my +shoulder he made his way slowly to the broken gate. Even now I +can see clearly the fair prospect of that high place - a valley +reaching to distant hills and a river winding through it, glimmering +in the sunlight; a long wooded ledge breaking into naked, grassy +slopes on one side of the valley and on the other a deep forest +rolling to the far horizon; between them big patches of yellow +grain and white buckwheat and green pasture land and greener +meadows and the straight road, with white houses on either side of +it, glorious in a double fringe of golden rod and purple aster and +yellow John's-wort and the deep blue of the Jacob's ladder. + +'Looks a good deal like the promised land,' said Uncle Eb. 'Hain't +got much further t' go.' + +He sat on the rotting threshold while I pulled some of the weeds in +front of the doorstep and brought kindlings out of the house and +built a fire. While we were eating I told Uncle Eb of the man that I +had seen in the night. + +'Guess you was dreamin',' he said, and, while I stood firm for the +reality of that I had seen, it held our thought only for a brief +moment. My companion was unable to walk that day so we lay by, +in the shelter of the old house, eating as little of our scanty store as +we could do with. I went to a spring near by for water and picked a +good mess of blackberries that I hid away until supper time, so as +to surprise Uncle Eb. A longer day than that we spent in the old +house, after our coming, I have never known. I made the room a +bit tidier and gathered more grass for bedding. Uncle Eb felt better +as the day grew warm. I had a busy time of it that morning bathing +his back in the spirits and rubbing until my small arms ached. I +have heard him tell often how vigorously I worked that day and +how I would say: 'I'll take care o' you, Uncle Eb -won't I, Uncle +Eb?' as my little hands flew with redoubled energy on his bare +skin. That finished we lay down sleeping until the sun was low, +when I made ready the supper that took the last of everything we +had to eat. Uncle Eb was more like himself that evening and, +sitting up in the corner, as the darkness came, told me the story of +Squirreltown and Frog Ferry, which came to be so great a standby +in those days that, even now, I can recall much of the language in +which he told it + +'Once,' he said, 'there was a boy thet hed two grey squirrels in a +cage. They kep' thinkin' o' the time they used t' scamper in the +tree-tops an' make nests an' eat all the nuts they wanted an' play I +spy in the thick leaves. An they grew poor an' looked kind o' +ragged an' sickly an' downhearted. When he brought 'em outdoors +they used t' look up in the trees an' run in the wire wheel as if they +thought they could get there sometime if they kep' goin'. As the +boy grew older he see it was cruel to keep 'em shet in a cage, but +he'd hed em a long time an' couldn't bear t' give 'em up. + +'One day he was out in the woods a little back o' the clearin'. All t' +once he heard a swift holler. 'Twas nearby an' echoed so he +couldn't tell which way it come from. He run fer home but the +critter ketched 'im before he got out o' the woods an' took 'im into a +cave, an' give 'im t' the little swifis t' play with. The boy cried +terrible. The swifts they laughed an' nudged each other. + +'"O ain't he cute!" says one. "He's a beauty!" says another. "Cur'us +how he can git along without any fur," says the mother swift, as +she run er nose over 'is bare foot. He thought of 'is folks waitin' fer +him an' he begged em t' let 'im go. Then they come an' smelt 'im +over. + +'"Yer sech a cunin' critter," says the mother swift, "we couldn't +spare ye." + +'"Want to see my mother," says the boy sobbing. + +'"Couldn't afford t' let ye go - yer so cute" says the swift. "Bring the +poor critter a bone an' a bit o' snake meat" + +'The boy couldn't eat. They fixed a bed fer him, but 'twant clean. +The feel uv it made his back ache an' the smell uv it made him sick +to his stomach. + +'"When the swifts hed comp'ny they 'd bring 'em overt' look at him +there 'n his dark comer. "'S a boy," said the mother swift pokin' him +with a long stick "Wouldn't ye like t' see 'im run?" Then she +punched him until he got up an' run 'round the cave fer his life. +Happened one day et a very benevolent swift come int' the cave. + +'"'S a pity t' keep the boy here," said he; "he looks bad." + +'"But he makes fun fer the children," said the swift. + +"Fun that makes misery is only fit fer a fool," said the visitor. + +'They let him go thet day. Soon as he got hum he thought o' the +squirrels an' was tickled t' find 'em alive. He tak 'em off to an +island, in the middle of a big lake, thet very day, an' set the cage on +the shore n' opened it He thought he would come back sometime +an' see how they was ginin' along. The cage was made of light wire +an' hed a tin bottom fastened to a big piece o' plank. At fust they +was 'fraid t' leave it an' peeked out o' the door an' scratched their +heads's if they thought it a resky business. After awhile one +stepped out careful an' then the other followed. They tried t' climb +a tree, but their nails was wore off an' they kep' fallin' back. Then +they went off 'n the brush t' find some nuts. There was only pines +an' poppies an' white birch an' a few berry bushes on the island. +They went t' the water's edge on every side, but there was nuthin +there a squirrel ud give a flirt uv his tail fer. 'Twas near dark when +they come back t' the cage hungry as tew bears. They found a few +crumbs o' bread in the cup an' divided 'em even. Then they went t' +bed 'n their ol' nest. + +'It hed been rainin' a week in the mount'ins. Thet night the lake +rose a foot er more an' 'fore mornin' the cage begun t' rock a teenty +bit as the water lifted the plank. They slep' all the better fer thet an' +they dreamed they was up in a tree at the end uv a big bough. The +cage begun t' sway sideways and then it let go o' the shore an' spun +'round once er twice an' sailed out 'n the deep water. There was a +light breeze blowin' offshore an' purty soon it was pitchin' like a +ship in the sea. But the two squirrels was very tired an' never woke +up 'til sunrise. They got a terrible scare when they see the water +'round 'em an' felt the motion o' the ship. Both on 'em ran into the +wire wheel an' that bore down the stern o' the ship so the under +wires touched the water. They made it spin like a buzz saw an' got +their clothes all wet. The ship went faster when they worked the +wheel, an' bime bye they got tired an' come out on the main deck. +The water washed over it a little so they clim up the roof thet was +a kin' uv a hurricane deck. It made the ship sway an' rock fearful +but they hung on 'midships, an' clung t' the handle that stuck up +like a top mast. Their big tails was spreadover their shoulders, an' +the wind rose an' the ship went faster 'n faster. They could see the +main shore where the big woods come down t' the water 'n' all the +while it kep' a comin' nearer 'n' nearer. But they was so hungry +didn't seem possible they could live to git there. + +'Ye know squirrels are a savin' people. In the day o' plenty they +think o' the day o' poverty an' lay by fer it. All at once one uv 'em +thought uv a few kernels o' corn, he hed pushed through a little +crack in the tin floor one day a long time ago. It happened there +was quite a hole under the crack an' each uv 'em bad stored some +kernels unbeknown t' the other. So they hed a good supper 'n' some +left fer a bite 'n the mornin'. 'Fore daylight the ship made her pott +'n' lay to, 'side liv a log in a little cove. The bullfrogs jumped on +her main deck an' begun t' holler soon as she hove to: "all ashore! +all ashore! all ashore!" The two squirrels woke up but lay quiet 'til +the sun rose. Then they come out on the log 'et looked like a long +dock an' run ashore 'n' foun' some o' their own folks in the bush. +An' when they bed tol' their story the ol' father o' the tribe got up 'n +a tree an' hollered himself hoarse preachin' 'bout how 't paid t' be +savin'. + +'"An' we should learn t' save our wisdom es well es our nuts," said +a sassy brother; "fer each needs his own wisdom fer his own +affairs." + +'An the little ship went back 'n' forth 'cross the cove as the win' +blew. The squirrels hed many a fine ride in her an' the frogs were +the ferrymen. An' all 'long thet shore 'twas known es Frog Ferry +'mong the squirrel folks.' + +It was very dark when he finished the tale an' as we lay gaping a +few minutes after my last query about those funny people of the +lake margin I could hear nothing but the chirping of the crickets. I +was feeling a bit sleepy when I heard the boards creak above our +heads. Uncle Eli raised himself and lay braced upon his elbow +listening. In a few moments we heard a sound as of someone +coming softly down the ladder at the other end of the room. It was +so dark I could see nothing. + +'Who's there?' Uncle Eb demanded. + +'Don't p'int thet gun at me,' somebody whispered. 'This is my home +and I warn ye t' leave it er I'll do ye harm.' + +Chapter 5 + +Here I shall quote you again from the diary of Uncle Eb. 'It was so +dark I couldn't see a han' before me. "Don't p'int yer gun at me," the +man whispered. Thought 'twas fimny he could see me when I +couldn't see him. Said 'twas his home an' we'd better leave. Tol +him I was sick (rumatiz) an' couldn't stir. Said he was sorry an' +come over near us. Tol' him I was an' ol' man goin' west with a +small boy. Stopped in the rain. Got sick. Out o' purvisions. 'Bout +ready t' die. Did'n know what t' do. Started t' stike a match an' the +man said don't make no light cos I don't want to hev ye see my +face. Never let nobody see my face. Said he never went out 'less +'twas a dark night until folks was abed. Said we looked like good +folks. Scairt me a little cos we couldn't see a thing. Also he said +don't be 'fraid of me. Do what I can fer ye.' + +I remember the man crossed the creaking floor and sat down near +us after he had parleyed with Uncle Eb awhile in whispers. Young +as I was I keep a vivid impression of that night and, aided by the +diary of Uncle Eb, I have made a record of what was said that is, in +the main, accurate. + +'Do you know where you are?' he enquired presently, whispering as +he had done before. + +'I've no idee,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Well, down the hill is Paradise Valley in the township o' Faraway,' +he continued. 'It's the end o' Paradise Road an' a purty country. +Been settled a long time an' the farms are big an' prosperous - kind +uv a land o' plenty. That big house at the foot o' the hill is Dave +Brower's. He's the richest man in the valley.' + +'How do you happen t' be livin' here? - if ye don't min' tellin' me,' +Uncle Eb asked. + +'Crazy,' said he; ''fraid uv everybody an' everybody's 'fraid o' me. +Lived a good long time in this way. Winters I go into the big +woods. Got a camp in a big cave an' when I'm there I see a little +daylight. Here 'n the clearin' I'm only up in the night-time. Thet's +how I've come to see so well in the dark. It's give me cat's eyes.' + +'Don't ye git lonesome?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Awful - sometimes,' he answered with a sad sigh, 'an' it seems +good t' talk with somebody besides myself. I get enough to eat +generally. There are deer in the woods an' cows in the fields, ye +know, an' potatoes an' corn an' berries an' apples, an' all thet kind o' +thing. Then I've got my traps in the woods where I ketch +partridges, an' squirrels an' coons an' all the meat I need. I've got a +place in the thick timber t' do my cookin' - all I want t' do - in the +middle of the night Sometimes I come here an' spend a day in the +garret if I'm caught in a storm or if I happen to stay a little too late +in the valley. Once in a great while I meet a man somewhere in the +open but he always gits away quick as he can. Guess they think I'm +a ghost - dunno what I think o' them.' + +Our host went on talking as if he were glad to tell the secrets of his +heart to some creature of his own kind. I have often wondered at +his frankness; but there was a fatherly tenderness, I remember in +the voice of Uncle Eb, and I judge it tempted his confidence. +Probably the love of companionship can never be so dead in a man +but that the voice of kindness may call it back to life again. + +'I'll bring you a bite t' eat before morning,' he said, presently, as he +rose to go. 'leet me feel o' your han', mister.' + +Uncle Eb gave him his hand and thanked him. + +'Feels good. First I've hed hold of in a long time,' he whispered. + +'What's the day o' the month?' + +'The twenty-fifth.' + +'I must remember. Where did you come from?' + +Uncle Eb told him, briefly, the story of our going west + +'Guess you'd never do me no harm - would ye?' the man asked. 'Not +a bit,' Uncle Eb answered. + +Then he bade us goodbye, crossed the creaking floor and went +away in the darkness. + +'Sing'lar character!' Uncle Eb muttered. + +I was getting drowsy and that was the last I heard. In the morning +we found a small pail of milk sitting near us, a roasted partridge, +two fried fish and some boiled potatoes. It was more than enough +to carry us through the day with a fair allowance for Fred. Uncle +Eb was a bit better but very lame at that and kept to his bed the +greater part of the day. The time went slow with me I remember. +Uncle Eb was not cheerful and told me but one story and that had +no life in it. At dusk he let me go out in the road to play awhile +with Fred and the wagon, but came to the door and called us in +shortly. I went to bed in a rather unhappy flame of mind. The dog +roused me by barking in the middle of the right and I heard again +the familiar whisper of the stranger. + +'Sh-h-h! be still, dog,' he whispered; but I was up to my ears in +sleep and went under shortly, so I have no knowledge of what +passed that night. Uncle Eb tells in his diary that he had a talk with +him lasting more than an hour, but goes no further and never +seemed willing to talk much about that interview or others that +followed it. + +I only know the man had brought more milk and fish and fowl for +us. We stayed another day in the old house, that went like the last, +and the night man came again to see Uncle Eb. The next morning +my companion was able to walk more freely, but Fred and I had to +stop and wait for him very often going down the big hill. I was +mighty glad when we were leaving the musty old house for good +and had the dog hitched with all our traps in the wagon. It was a +bright morning and the sunlight glimmered on the dew in the +broad valley. The men were just coming from breakfast when we +turned in at David Brower's. A barefooted little girl a bit older than +I, with red cheeks and blue eyes and long curly hair, that shone +like gold in the sunlight, came running out to meet us and led me +up to the doorstep, highly amused at the sight of Fred and the +wagon. I regarded her with curiosity and suspicion at first, while +Uncle Eb was talking with the men. I shall never forget that +moment when David Brower came and lifted me by the shoulders, +high above his head, and shook me as if to test my mettle. He led +me into the house then where his wife was working. + +'What do you think of this small bit of a boy?' he asked. + +She had already knelt on the floor and put her arms about my neck +and kissed me. + +'Am' no home,' said he. 'Come all the way from Vermont with an +ol' man. They're worn out both uv 'em. Guess we'd better take 'em +in awhile.' + +'O yes, mother - please, mother,' put in the little girl who was +holding my hand. 'He can sleep with me, mother. Please let him +stay.' + +She knelt beside me and put her arms around my little shoulders +and drew me to her breast and spoke to me very tenderly. + +'Please let him stay,' the girl pleaded again. + +'David,' said the woman, 'I couldn't turn the little thing away. Won't +ye hand me those cookies.' + +And so our life began in Paradise Valley. Ten minutes later I was +playing my first game of 'I spy' with little Hope Brower, among the +fragrant stooks of wheat in the field back of the garden. + +Chapter 6 + +The lone pine stood in Brower's pasture, just clear of the woods. +When the sun rose, one could see its taper shadow stretching away +to the foot of Woody Ledge, and at sunset it lay like a fallen mast +athwart the cow-paths, its long top arm a flying pennant on the +side of Bowman's Hill. In summer this bar of shadow moved like a +clock-hand on the green dial of the pasture, and the help could tell +the time by the slant of it. Lone Pine had a mighty girth at the +bottom, and its bare body tapered into the sky as straight as an +arrow. Uncle Eb used to say that its one long, naked branch that +swung and creaked near the top of it, like a sign of hospitality on +the highway of the birds, was two hundred feet above ground. +There were a few stubs here and there upon its shaft -the roost of +crows and owls and hen-hawks. It must have passed for a low +resort in the feathered kingdom because it was only the robbers of +the sky that halted on Lone Pine. + +This towering shaft of dead timber commemorated the ancient +forest through which the northern Yankees cut their trails in the +beginning of the century. They were a tall, big fisted, brawny lot of +men who came across the Adirondacks from Vermont, and began +to break the green canopy that for ages had covered the valley of +the St Lawrence. Generally they drove a cow with them, and such +game as they could kill on the journey supplemented their diet of +'pudding and milk'. Some settled where the wagon broke or where +they had buried a member of the family, and there they cleared the +forests that once covered the smooth acres of today. Gradually the +rough surface of the trail grew smoother until it became Paradise +Road - the well-worn thoroughfare of the stagecoach with its 'inns +and outs', as the drivers used to say - the inns where the 'men folks' +sat in the firelight of the blating logs after supper and told tales of +adventure until bedtime, while the women sat with their knitting in +the parlour, and the young men wrestled in the stableyard. The +men of middle age had stooped and massive shoulders, and +deep-furrowed brows: Tell one of them he was growing old and he +might answer you by holding his whip in front of him and leaping +over it between his hands. + +There was a little clearing around that big pine tree when David +Brower settled in the valley. Its shadows shifting in the light of sun +and moon, like the arm of a compass, swept the spreading acres of +his farm, and he built his house some forty rods from the foot of it +on higher ground. David was the oldest of thirteen children. His +father had died the year before he came to St Lawrence county, +leaving him nothing but heavy responsibilities. Fortunately, his +great strength and his kindly nature were equal to the burden. +Mother and children were landed safely in their new home on +Bowman's Hill the day that David was eighteen. I have heard the +old folks of that country tell what a splendid figure of a man he +was those days - six feet one in his stockings and broad at the +shoulder. His eyes were grey and set under heavy brows. I have +never forgotten the big man that laid hold of me and the broad +clean-shaven serious face, that looked into mine the day I came to +Paradise Valley. As I write I can see plainly his dimpled chin, his +large nose, his firm mouth that was the key to his character. 'Open +or shet,' I have heard the old folks say, 'it showed he was no fool.' + +After two years David took a wife and settled in Paradise Valley. +He prospered in a small way considered handsome thereabouts. In +a few years he had cleared the rich acres of his farm to the sugar +bush that was the north vestibule of the big forest; he had seen the +clearing widen until he could discern the bare summits of the +distant hills, and, far as he could see, were the neat white houses of +the settlers. Children had come, three of them - the eldest a son +who had left home and died in a far country long before we came +to Paradise Valley - the youngest a baby. + +I could not have enjoyed my new home more if I had been born in +it. I had much need of a mother's tenderness, no doubt, for I +remember with what a sense of peace and comfort I lay on the lap +of Elizabeth Brower, that first evening, and heard her singing as +she rocked. The little daughter stood at her knees, looking down at +me and patting my bare toes or reaching over to feel my face. + +'God sent him to us - didn't he, mother?' said she. + +'Maybe,' Mrs Brower answered, 'we'll be good to him, anyway.' + +Then that old query came into my mind. I asked them if it was +heaven where we were. + +'No,' they answered. + +''Tain't anywhere near here, is it?' I went on. + +Then she told me about the gate of death, and began sowing in me +the seed of God's truth - as I know now the seed of many harvests. +I slept with Uncle Eb in the garret, that night, and for long after we +came to the Brower's. He continued to get better, and was shortly +able to give his hand to the work of the farm. + +There was room for all of us in that ample wilderness of his +imagination, and the cry of the swift woke its echoes every +evening for a time. Bears and panthers prowled in the deep +thickets, but the swifts took a firmer grip on us, being bolder and +more terrible. Uncle Eb became a great favourite in the family, and +David Brower came to know soon that he was 'a good man to +work' and could be trusted 'to look after things'. We had not been +there long when I heard Elizabeth speak of Nehemiah - her lost +son - and his name was often on the lips of others. He was a boy of +sixteen when he went away, and I learned no more of him until +long afterwards. + +A month or more after we came to Faraway, I remember we went +'cross lots in a big box wagon to the orchard on the hill and +gathered apples that fell in a shower when Uncle Eb went up to +shake them down. Then cane the raw days of late October, when +the crows went flying southward before the wind - a noisy pirate +fleet that filled the sky at times - and when we all put on our +mittens and went down the winding cow-paths to the grove of +butternuts in the pasture. The great roof of the wilderness had +turned red and faded into yellow. Soon its rafters began to show +through, and then, in a day or two, they were all bare but for some +patches of evergreen. Great, golden drifts of foliage lay higher than +a man's head in the timber land about the clearing. We had our +best fun then, playing 'I spy' in the groves. + +In that fragrant deep of leaves one might lie undiscovered a long +time. He could hear roaring like that of water at every move of the +finder, wallowing nearer and nearer possibly, in his search. Old +Fred came generally rooting his way to us in the deep drift with +unerring accuracy. + +And shortly winter came out of the north and, of a night, after +rapping at the windows and howling in the chimney and roaring in +the big woods, took possession of the earth. That was a time when +hard cider flowed freely and recollection found a ready tongue +among the older folk, and the young enjoyed many diversions, +including measles and whooping cough. + +Chapter 7 + +I had a lot of fun that first winter, but none that I can remember +more gratefully than our trip in the sledgehouse - a tight little +house fitted and fastened to a big sledge. Uncle Eb had to go to +mill at Hillsborough, some twelve miles away, and Hope and I, +after much coaxing and many family counsels, got leave to go with +him. The sky was cloudless, and the frosty air was all aglow in the +sunlight that morning we started. There was a little sheet iron +stove in one comer of the sledgehouse, walled in with zinc and +anchored with wires; a layer of hay covered the floor and over that +we spread our furs and blankets. The house had an open front, and +Uncle Eb sat on the doorstep, as it were, to drive, while we sat +behind him on the blankets. + +'I love you very much,' said Hope, embracing me, after we were +seated. Her affection embarrassed me, I remember. It seemed +unmanly to be petted like a doll. + +'I hate to be kissed,' I said, pulling away from her, at which Uncle +Eb laughed heartily. + +The day came when I would have given half my life for the words +I held so cheaply then. + +'You'd better be good t' me,' she answered, 'for when mother dies +I'm goin' t' take care o' you. Uncle Eb and Gran'ma Bisnette an' you +an' everybody I love is goin' t' come an' live with me in a big, big +house. An' I'm goin' t' put you t' bed nights an' hear ye say yer +prayers an everything.' + +'Who'll do the spankin?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'My husban',' she answered, with a sigh at the thought of all the +trouble that lay before her. + +'An' I'll make him rub your back, too, Uncle Eb,' she added. +'Wall, I rather guess he'll object to that,' said he. + +'Then you can give 'ins five cents, an' I guess he'll be glad t' do it,' +she answered promptly. + +'Poor man! He won't know whether he's runnin' a poorhouse er a +hospital, will he?' said Uncle Eb. 'Look here, children,' he added, +taking out his old leather wallet, as he held the reins between his +knees. 'Here's tew shillin' apiece for ye, an' I want ye t' spend it jest +eggsackly as ye please.' The last words were spoken slowly and +with emphasis. + +We took the two silver pieces that he handed to us and looked +them all over and compared them. + +'I know what I'll do,' said she, suddenly. 'I'm goin' t' buy my mother +a new dress, or mebbe a beautiful ring,' she added thoughtfully. + +For my own part I did not know what I should buy. I wanted a real +gun most of all and my inclination oscillated between that and a +red rocking horse. My mind was very busy while I sat in silence. +Presently I rose and went to Uncle Eb and whispered in his ear. + +'Do you think I could get a real rifle with two shilin'?' I enquired +anxiously. + +'No,' he answered in a low tone that seemed to respect my +confidence. 'Bime by, when you're older, I'll buy ye a rifle - a real +rip snorter, too, with a shiny barrel 'n a silver lock. When ye get +down t, the village ye'll see lots o' things y'd rather hev, prob'ly. If I +was you, children,' he added, in a louder tone, 'I wouldn't buy a +thing but nuts 'n' raisins.' + +'Nuts 'n' raisins!' Hope exclaimed, scornfully. + +'Nuts 'n' raisins,' he repeated. 'They're cheap 'n' satisfyin'. If ye eat +enough uv 'em you'll never want anything else in this world.' + +I failed to see the irony in Uncle Eb's remark and the suggestion +seemed to have a good deal of merit, the more I thought it over. + +''T any rate,' said Uncle Eb, 'I'd git somethin' fer my own selves.' + +'Well,' said Hope, 'You tell us a lot o' things we could buy.' + +'Less see!' said Uncle Eb, looking very serious. 'There's bootjacks +an' there's warmin' pans 'n' mustard plasters 'n' liver pads 'n' all +them kind o' things.' + +We both shook our heads very doubtfully. + +'Then,' he added, 'there are jimmyjacks 'n' silver no nuthin's.' + +There were many other suggestions but none of them were +decisive. + +The snow lay deep on either side of the way and there was a +glimmer on every white hillside where Jack Frost had sown his +diamonds. Here and there a fox track crossed the smooth level of +the valley and dwindled on the distant hills like a seam in a great +white robe. It grew warmer as the sun rose, and we were a jolly +company behind the merry jingle of the sleigh bells. We had had a +long spell of quiet weather and the road lay in two furrows worn as +smooth as ice at the bottom. + +'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb looking up at the sky, after we had been +on the road an hour or so. 'There's a sun dog. Wouldn't wonder if +we got a snowstorm' fore night. + +I was running behind the sledge and standing on the brake hooks +going downhill. He made me get in when he saw the sun dog, and +let our horse - a rat-tailed bay known as Old Doctor - go at a merry +pace. + +We were awed to silence when we came in sight of Hillsborough, +with spires looming far into the sky, as it seemed to me then, and +buildings that bullied me with their big bulk, so that I had no heart +for the spending of the two shillings Uncle Eb had given me. Such +sublimity of proportion I have never seen since; and yet it was all +very small indeed. The stores had a smell about them that was like +chloroform in its effect upon me; for, once in them, I fell into a +kind of trance and had scarce sense enough to know my own mind. +The smart clerks, who generally came and asked, 'Well, young +man, what can I do for you?' I regarded with fear and suspicion. I +clung the tighter to my coin always, and said nothing, although I +saw many a trinket whose glitter went to my soul with a mighty +fascination. We both stood staring silently at the show cases, our +tongues helpless with awe and wonder. Finally, after a whispered +conference, Hope asked for a 'silver no nothing', and provoked so +much laughter that we both fled to the sidewalk. Uncle Eb had to +do our buying for us in the end. + +'Wall, what'll ye hev?' he said to me at length. + +I tried to think-it was no easy thing to do after all I had seen. + +'Guess I'll take a jacknife,' I whispered. + +'Give this boy a knife,' he demanded. 'Wants t' be good 'n sharp. +Might hev t' skin a swift with it sometime.' + +'What ye want?' he asked, then turning to Hope. + +'A doll,' she whispered. + +'White or black?' said he. + +'White,' said she, 'with dark eyes and hair.' + +'Want a reel, splendid, firs'-class doll,' he said to the clerk. 'Thet +one'll do, there, with the sky-blue dress 'n the pink apron.' + +We were worn out with excitement when we left for home under +lowering skies. We children lay side by side under the robes, the +doll between us, and were soon asleep. It was growing dark when +Uncle Eb woke us, and the snow was driving in at the doorway. +The air was full of snow, I remember, and Old Doctor was wading +to his knees in a drift. We were up in the hills and the wind +whistled in our little chimney. Uncle Eb had a serious look in his +face. The snow grew deeper and Old Doctor went slower every +moment. + +'Six mild from home,' Uncle Eb muttered, as he held up to rest a +moment. 'Six mild from home. 'Fraid we're in fer a night uv it.' + +We got to the top of Fadden's Hill about dark, and the snow lay so +deep in the cut we all got out for fear the house would tip over. +Old Doctor floundered along a bit further until he went down in +the drift and lay between the shafts half buried. We had a shovel +that always hung beside a small hatchet in the sledgehouse - for +one might need much beside the grace of God of a winter's day in +that country - and with it Uncle Eb began to uncover the horse. We +children stood in the sledgehouse door watching him and holding +the lantern. Old Doctor was on his feet in a few minutes. + +''Tain' no use tryin',' said Uncle Eb, as he began to unhitch. 'Can't +go no further t'night' + +Then he dug away the snow beside the sledgehouse, and hitched +Old Doctor to the horseshoe that was nailed to the rear end of it. +That done, he clambered up the side of the cut and took some rails +off the fence and shoved them over on the roof of the house, so +that one end rested there and the other on the high bank beside us. +Then he cut a lot of hemlock boughs with the hatchet, and +thatched the roof he had made over Old Doctor, binding them with +the reins. Bringing more rails, he leaned them to the others on the +windward side and nailed a big blanket over them, piecing it out +with hemlock thatching, so it made a fairly comfortable shelter. +We were under the wind in this deep cut on Fadden's Hill, and the +snow piled in upon us rapidly. We had a warm blanket for Old +Doctor and two big buffalo robes for our own use. We gave him a +good feed of hay and oats, and then Uncle Eb cut up a fence rail +with our hatchet and built a roaring fire in the stove. We had got a +bit chilly wading in the snow, and the fire gave us a mighty sense +of comfort. + +'I thought somethin' might happen,' said Uncle Eb, as he hung his +lantern to the ridge pole and took a big paper parcel out of his +great coat pocket. 'I thought mebbe somethin' might happen, an' so +I brought along a bite o' luncheon.' + +He gave us dried herring and bread and butter and cheese. + +''S a little dry,' he remarked, while we were eating, 'but it's drier +where there's none.' + +We had a pail of snow on top of the little stove and plenty of good +drinking water for ourselves and the Old Doctor in a few minutes. + +After supper Uncle Eb went up the side of the cut and brought +back a lot of hemlock boughs and spread them under Old Doctor +for bedding. + +Then we all sat around the stove on the warm robes and listened to +the wind howling above our little roof and the stories of Uncle Eb. +The hissing of the snow as it beat upon the sledgehouse grew +fainter by and by, and Uncle Eb said he guessed we were pretty +well covered up. We fell asleep soon. I remember he stopped in +the middle of a wolf story, and, seeing that our eyes were shut, +pulled us back from the fire a little and covered us with one of the +robes. It had been a mighty struggle between Sleep and Romance, +and Sleep had won. I roused myself and begged him to go on with +the story, but he only said, 'Hush, boy; it's bedtime,' and turned up +the lantern and went out of doors. I woke once or twice in the +night and saw him putting wood on the fire. He had put out the +light. The gleam of the fire shone on his face when he opened the +stove door. + +'Gittin' a leetle cool here, Uncle Eb,' he was saying to himself. + +We were up at daylight, and even then it was snowing and blowing +fiercely. There were two feet of snow on the sledgehouse roof, and +we were nearly buried in the bank. Uncle Eb had to do a lot of +shoveling to get out of doors and into the stable. Old Doctor was +quite out of the wind in a cave of snow and nickering for his +breakfast. There was plenty for him, but we were on short rations. +Uncle Eb put on the snow shoes, after we had eaten what there was +left, and, cautioning us to keep in, set out for Fadden's across lots. +He came back inside of an hour with a good supply of provisions +in a basket on his shoulder. The wind had gone down and the air +was milder. Big flakes of snow came fluttering slowly downward +out of a dark sky. After dinner we went up on top of the +sledgehouse and saw a big scraper coming in the valley below. Six +teams of oxen were drawing it, and we could see the flying +furrows on either side of the scraper as it ploughed in the deep +drifts. Uncle Eb put on the snow shoes again, and, with Hope on +his back and me clinging to his hand, he went down to meet them +and to tell of our plight. The front team had wallowed to their ears, +and the men were digging them out with shovels when we got to +the scraper. A score of men and boys clung to the sides of that big, +hollow wedge, and put their weight on it as the oxen pulled. We +got on with the others, I remember, and I was swept off as soon as +the scraper started by a roaring avalanche of snow that came down +upon our heads and buried me completely. I was up again and had +a fresh hold in a jiffy, and clung to my place until I was nearly +smothered by the flying snow. It was great fun for me, and they +were all shouting and hallooing as if it were a fine holiday. They +made slow progress, however, and we left them shortly on their +promise to try to reach us before night. If they failed to get +through, one of them said he would drive over to Paradise Valley, +if possible, and tell the Browers we were all right + +On our return, Uncle Eb began shoveling a tunnel in the cut. +When we got through to the open late in the afternoon we saw the +scraper party going back with their teams. + +'Guess they've gi'n up fer t'day,' said he. 'Snow's powerful deep +down there below the bridge. Mebbe we can get 'round to where +the road's clear by goin' 'cross lots. I've a good mind t' try it.' + +Then he went over in the field and picked a winding way down the +hill toward the river, while we children stood watching him. He +came back soon and took down a bit of the fence and harnessed +Old Doctor and hitched him to the sledgehouse. The tunnel was +just wide enough to let us through with a tight pinch here and +there. The footing was rather soft' and the horse had hard pulling. +We went in the field, struggling on afoot - we little people - while +Uncle Eb led the horse. He had to stop frequently to tunnel through +a snowdrift, and at dusk we had only got half-way to the bridge +from our cave in the cat. Of a sudden Old Doctor went up to his +neck in a wall of deep snow that seemed to cut us off completely. +He struggled a moment, falling on his side and wrenching the +shafts from the runners. Uncle Eb went to work vigorously with +his shovel and had soon cut a narrow box stall in the deep snow +around Old Doctor. Just beyond the hill dipped sharply and down +the slope we could see the stubble sticking through the shallow +snow. 'We'll hev t' stop right where we are until mornin',' he said. +'It's mos' dark now. + +Our little house stood tilting forward about half-way down the hill, +its runners buried in the snow. A few hundred yards below was a +cliff where the shore fell to the river some thirty feet It had +stopped snowing, and the air had grown warmer, but the sky was +dark We put nearly all the hay in the sledgehouse under Old +Doctor and gave him the last of the oats and a warm cover of +blankets. Then Uncle Eb went away to the fence for more wood, +while we spread the supper. He was very tired, I remember, and we +all turned in for the night a short time after we had eaten. The little +stove was roaring like a furnace when we spread our blankets on +the sloping floor and lay down, our feet to the front, and drew the +warm robes over us. Uncle Eb, who had had no sleep the night +before, began to snore heavily before we children had stopped +whispering. He was still snoring, and Hope sound asleep, when I +woke in the night and heard the rain falling on our little roof and +felt the warm breath of the south wind. The water dripping from +the eaves and falling far and near upon the yielding snow had +many voices. I was half-asleep when I heard a new noise under the +sledge. Something struck the front corner of the sledgehouse - a +heavy, muffled blow - and brushed the noisy boards. Then I heard +the timbers creak and felt the runners leaping over the soft snow. I +remember it was like a dream of falling. I raised myself and stared +about me. We were slipping down the steep floor. The lantern, +burning dimly under the roof, swung and rattled. Uncle Eb was up +on his elbow staring wildly. I could feel the jar and rush of the +runners and the rain that seemed to roar as it dashed into my face. +Then, suddenly, the sledgehouse gave a great leap into the air and +the grating of the runners ceased. The lantern went hard against the +roof; there was a mighty roar in my ears; then we heard a noise +like thunder and felt the shock of a blow that set my back aching, +and cracked the roof above our heads. It was all still for a second; +then we children began to cry, and Uncle Eb staggered to his feet +and lit the lantern that had gone out and that had no globe, I +remember, as he held it down to our faces. + +'Hush! Are you hurt?' he said, as he knelt before us. 'Git up now, +see if ye can stand.' + +We got to our feet, neither of us much the worse for what had +happened- My knuckles were cut a bit by a splinter, and Hope had +been hit on the shins by the lantern globe as it fell. + +'By the Lord Harry!' said Uncle Eb, when he saw we were not hurt. +'Wonder what hit us.' + +We followed him outside while he was speaking. + +'We've slid downhill,' he said. 'Went over the cliff Went kerplunk +in the deep snow, er there'd have been nuthin' left uv us. Snow's +meltin' jest as if it was July.' + +Uncle Eb helped us into our heavy coats, and then with a blanket +over his arm led us into the wet snow. We came out upon clear ice +in a moment and picked our way along the lowering shore. At +length Uncle Eb clambered up, pulling us up after him, one by +one. Then he whistled to Old Doctor, who whinnied a quick reply. +He left us standing together, the blanket over our heads, and went +away in the dark whistling as he had done before. We could hear +Old Doctor answer as he came near, and presently Uncle Eb +returned leading the horse by the halter. Then he put us both on +Old Doctor's back, threw the blanket over our heads, and started +slowly for the road. We clung to each other as the horse staggered +in the soft snow, and kept our places with some aid from Uncle +Eb. We crossed the fence presently, and then for a way it was hard +going. We found fair footing after we had passed the big scraper, +and, coming to a house a mile or so down the road called them out +of bed. It was growing light and they made us comfortable around +a big stove, and gave us breakfast. The good man of the house took +us home in a big sleigh after the chores were done. We met David +Brower coming after us, and if we'd been gone a year we couldn't +have received a warmer welcome. + +Chapter 8 + +Of all that long season of snow, I remember most pleasantly the +days that were sweetened with the sugar-making. When the sun +was lifting his course in the clearing sky, and March had got the +temper of the lamb, and the frozen pulses of the forest had begun +to stir, the great kettle was mounted in the yard and all gave a hand +to the washing of spouts and buckets. Then came tapping time, in +which I helped carry the buckets and tasted the sweet flow that +followed the auger's wound. The woods were merry with our +shouts, and, shortly, one could hear the heart-beat of the maples in +the sounding bucket. It was the reveille of spring. Towering trees +shook down the gathered storms of snow and felt for the sunlight. +The arch and shanty were repaired, the great iron kettle was +scoured and lifted to its place, and then came the boiling. It was a +great, an inestimable privilege to sit on the robes of faded fur, in +the shanty, and hear the fire roaring under the kettle and smell the +sweet odour of the boiling sap. Uncle Eb minded the shanty and +the fire and the woods rang with his merry songs. When I think of +that phase of the sugaring, lam face to face with one of the greatest +perils of my life. My foster father had consented to let me spend a +night with Uncle Eb in the shanty, and I was to sleep on the robes, +where he would be beside me when he was not tending the fire. It +had been a mild, bright day, and David came up with our supper at +sunset. He sat talking with Uncle Eb for an hour or so, and the +woods were darkling when he went away. + +When he started on the dark trail that led to the clearing, I +wondered at his courage - it was so black beyond the firelight. +While we sat alone I plead for a story, but the thoughts of Uncle +Eb had gone to roost early in a sort of gloomy meditation. + +'Be still, my boy,' said he, 'an' go t' sleep. I ain't agoin' t' tell no +yams an, git ye all stirred up. Ye go t' sleep. Come mornin' we'll go +down t' the brook an' see if we can't find a mink or tew 'n the traps.' + +I remember hearing a great crackling of twigs in the dark wood +before I slept. As I lifted my head, Uncle Eb whispered, 'Hark!' and +we both listened. A bent and aged figure came stalking into the +firelight His long white hair mingled with his beard and covered +his coat collar behind. + +'Don't be scairt,' said Uncle Eb. ''Tain' no bear. It's nuthin' but a +poet., + +I knew him for a man who wandered much and had a rhyme for +everyone - a kindly man with a reputation for laziness and without +any home. + +'Bilin', eh?' said the poet + +'Bilin',' said Uncle Eb. + +'I'm bilin' over 'n the next bush,' said the poet, sitting down. + +'How's everything in Jingleville?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +Then the newcomer answered: + +'Well, neighbour dear, in Jingleville +We live by faith but we eat our fill; +An' what w'u'd we do if it wa'n't fer prayer? +Fer we can't raise a thing but whiskers an' hair.' + +'Cur'us how you can'talk po'try,' said Uncle Eb. 'The only thing I've +got agin you is them whiskers an' thet hair. 'Tain't Christian.' + +''Tain't what's on the head, but what's in it - thet's the important +thing,' said the poet. 'Did I ever tell ye what I wrote about the +birds?' + +'Don' know's ye ever did,' said Uncle Eb, stirring his fire. + +'The boy'll like it, mebbe,' said he, taking a dirty piece of paper out +of his pocket and holding it to the light. + +The poem interested me, young as I was, not less than the strange +figure of the old poet who lived unknown in the backwoods, and +who died, I dare say, with many a finer song in his heart. I +remember how he stood in the firelight and chanted the words in a +sing-song tone. He gave us that rude copy of the poem, and here it +is: + +THE ROBIN'S WEDDING + +Young robin red breast hed a beautiful nest an' he says to his love +says he: +It's ready now on a rocking bough +In the top of a maple tree. +I've lined it with down an' the velvet brown on the waist of a +bumble-bee. + +They were married next day, in the land o' the hay, the lady bird an' +he. +The bobolink came an' the wife o' the same +An' the lark an' the fiddle de dee. +An' the crow came down in a minister gown - there was nothing +that he didn't see. + +He fluttered his wing as they ast him to sing an' he tried fer t' clear +out his throat; +He hemmed an' he hawed an' be hawked an' he cawed +But he couldn't deliver a note. +The swallow was there an' he ushered each pair with his linsey an' +claw hammer coat. + +The bobolink tried fer t' flirt with the bride in a way thet was sassy +an' bold. +An' the notes that he took as he shivered an' shook +Hed a sound like the jingle of gold. +He sat on a briar an' laughed at the choir an' said thet the music +was old. + +The sexton he came - Mr Spider by name - a citizen hairy and grey. +His rope in a steeple, he called the good people +That live in the land o' the hay. +The ants an' the squgs an' the crickets an' bugs - came out in a +mighty array. + +Some came down from Barleytown an' the neighbouring city o' +Rye. +An' the little black people they climbed every steeple +An' sat looking up at the sky. +They came fer t' see what a wedding might be an' they +furnished the cake an, the pie. + +I remember he turned to me when he had finished and took one of +my small hands and held it in his hard palm and looked at it and +then into my face. + +'Ah, boy!' he said, 'your way shall lead you far from here, and you +shall get learning and wealth and win - victories.' + +'What nonsense are you talking, Jed Ferry?' said Uncle Eb. + +'O, you all think I'm a fool an' a humbug, 'cos I look it. Why, Eben +Holden, if you was what ye looked, ye'd be in the presidential +chair. Folks here 'n the valley think o' nuthin' but hard work - most +uv 'em, an' I tell ye now this boy ain't a goin' t' be wuth putty on a +farm. Look a' them slender hands. + +'There was a man come to me the other day an' wanted t' hev a +poem 'bout his wife that hed jes' died. I ast him t' tell me all 'bout +her. + +'"Wall," said he, after he had scratched his head an' thought a +minute, "she was a dretful good woman t' work." + +'"Anything else?" I asked. + +'He thought agin fer a minute. + +'"Broke her leg once," he said, "an' was laid up fer more'n a year." + +"Must o' suffered," said I. + +'"Not then," he answered. "Ruther enjoyed it layin' abed an' readin' +an' bein' rubbed, but 'twas hard on the children." + +'"S'pose ye loved her," I said. + +'Then the tears come into his eyes an' he couldn't speak fer a +minute. Putty soon he whispered "Yes" kind o' confidential. +'Course he loved her, but these Yankees are ashamed o' their +feelin's. They hev tender thoughts, but they hide 'em as careful as +the wild goose hides her eggs. I wrote a poem t' please him, an' +goin' home I made up one fer myself, an 'it run 'bout like this: + +O give me more than a life, I beg, +That finds real joy in a broken leg. +Whose only thought is t' work an' save +An' whose only rest is in the grave. +Saving an' scrimping from day to day +While its best it has squandered an' flung away +Fer a life like that of which I tell +Would rob me quite o' the dread o' hell. + +'Toil an' slave an' scrimp an' save - thet's 'bout all we think uv 'n +this country. 'Tain't right, Holden.' + +'No, 'tain't right,' said Uncle Eb. + +'I know I'm a poor, mis'rable critter. Kind o' out o' tune with +everybody I know. Alwus quarrelled with my own folks, an' now I +ain't got any home. Someday I'm goin' t' die in the poorhouse er on +the ground under these woods. But I tell ye'- here he spoke in a +voice that grew loud with feeling - 'mebbe I've been lazy, as they +say, but I've got more out o' my life than any o' these fools. And +someday God'll honour me far above them. When my wife an' I +parted I wrote some lines that say well my meaning. It was only a +log house we had, but this will show what I got out of it.' Then he +spoke the lines, his voice trembling with emotion. + +'O humble home! Thou hadst a secret door +Thro' which I looked, betimes, with wondering eye +On treasures that no palace ever wore +But now - goodbye! + +In hallowed scenes what feet have trod thy stage! +The babe, the maiden, leaving home to wed +The young man going forth by duty led +And faltering age. + +Thou hadst a magic window broad and high +The light and glory of the morning shone +Thro' it, however dark the day had grown, +Or bleak the sky. + +'I know Dave Brower's folks hev got brains an' decency, but when +thet boy is old enough t' take care uv himself, let him git out o' this +country. I tell ye he'll never make a farmer, an' if he marries an, +settles down here he'll git t' be a poet, mebbe, er some such +shif'less cuss, an' die in the poorhouse. Guess I better git back t' +my bilin' now. Good-night,' he added, rising and buttoning his old +coat as he walked away. + +'Sing'lar man!' Uncle Eli exclaimed, thoughtfully, 'but anyone thet +picks him up fer a fool'll find him a counterfeit.' + +Young as I was, the rugged, elemental power of the old poet had +somehow got to my heart and stirred my imagination. It all came +not fully to my understanding until later. Little by little it grew +upon me, and what an effect it had upon my thought and life ever +after I should not dare to estimate. And soon I sought out the 'poet +of the hills,' as they called him, and got to know and even to +respect him in spite of his unlovely aspect. + +Uncle Eb skimmed the boiling sap, put more wood on the fire and +came and pulled off his boots and lay down beside me under the +robe. And, hearing the boil of the sap and the crackle of the +burning logs in the arch, I soon went asleep. + +I remember feeling Uncle Eb's hand upon my cheek, and how I +rose and stared about me in the fading shadows of a dream as he +shook me gently. + +'Wake up, my boy,' said he. 'Come, we mus' put fer home.' + +The fire was out. The old man held a lantern as he stood before +me, the blaze flickering. There was a fearsome darkness all +around. + +'Come, Willy, make haste,' he whispered, as I rubbed my eyes. 'Put +on yer boots, an' here's yer little coat 'n' muffler.' + +There was a mighty roar in the forest and icy puffs of snow came +whistling in upon as. We stored the robes and pails and buckets +and covered the big kettle. + +The lofty tree-tops reeled and creaked above us, and a deep, +sonorous moan was sweeping through the woods, as if the fingers +of the wind had touched a mighty harp string in the timber. We +could hear the crash and thunder of falling trees. + +'Make haste! Make haste! It's resky here,' said Uncle Eb, and he +held my hand and ran. We started through the brush and steered as +straight as we could for the clearing. The little box of light he +carried was soon sheathed in snow, and I remember how he +stopped, half out of breath, often, and brushed it with his mittens +to let out the light. We had made the scattering growth of little +timber at the edge of the woods when the globe of the lantern +snapped and fell. A moment later we stood in utter darkness. I +knew, for the first time, then that we were in a bad fix. + +'I guess God'll take care of us, Willy,' said Uncle Eb. 'If he don't, +we'll never get there in this world never!' + +It was a black and icy wall of night and storm on every side of us. I +never saw a time when the light of God's heaven was so utterly +extinguished; the cold never went to my bone as on that bitter +night. My hands and feet were numb with aching, as the roar of the +trees grew fainter in the open. I remember how I lagged, and how +the old man urged me on, and how we toiled in the wind and +darkness, straining our eyes for some familiar thing. Of a sudden +we stumbled upon a wall that we had passed an hour or so before. + +'Oh!' he groaned, and made that funny, deprecating cluck with his +tongue, that I have heard so much from Yankee lips. + +'God o' mercy!' said he, 'we've gone 'round in a half-circle. Now +we'll take the wall an' mebbe it'll bring us home.' + +I thought I couldn't keep my feet any longer, for an irresistible +drowsiness had come over me. The voice of Uncle Eb seemed far +away, and when I sank in the snow and shut my eyes to sleep he +shook me as a terrier shakes a rat. + +'Wake up, my boy,' said he, 'ye musn't sleep.' + +Then he boxed my ears until I cried, and picked me up and ran +with me along the side of the wall. I was but dimly conscious when +he dropped me under a tree whose bare twigs lashed the air and +stung my cheeks. I heard him tearing the branches savagely and +muttering, 'Thanks to God, it's the blue beech.' I shall never forget +how he turned and held to my hand and put the whip on me as I lay +in the snow, and how the sting of it started my blood. Up I sprang +in a jiffy and howled and danced. The stout rod bent and circled on +me like a hoop of fire. Then I turned and tried to run while he +clung to my coat tails, and every step I felt the stinging grab of the +beech. There is a little seam across my cheek today that marks a +footfall of one of those whips. In a moment I was as wide awake as +Uncle Eb and needed no more stimulation. + +The wall led us to the pasture lane, and there it was easy enough to +make our way to the barnyard and up to the door of the house, +which had a candle in every window, I remember. David was up +and dressed to come after us, and I recall how he took Uncle Eb in +his arms, when he fell fainting on the doorstep, and carried him to +the lounge. I saw the blood on my face as I passed the mirror, and +Elizabeth Brower came running and gave me one glance and +rushed out of doors with the dipper. It was full of snow when she +ran in and tore the wrappings off my neck and began to rub my +ears and cheeks with the cold snow, calling loudly for Grandma +Bisnette. She came in a moment and helped at the stripping of our +feet and legs. I remember that she slit my trousers with the shears +as I lay on the floor, while the others rubbed my feet with the +snow. Our hands and ears were badly frosted, but in an hour the +whiteness had gone out of them and the returning blood burnt like +a fire. + +'How queer he stares!' I heard them say when Uncle Eb first came +to, and in a moment a roar of laughter broke from him. + +'I'll never fergit,' said he presently, 'if I live a thousan' years, the +lickin' I gin thet boy; but it hurt me worse'n it hurt him.' + +Then he told the story of the blue beech. + +The next day was that 'cold Friday' long remembered by those who +felt its deadly chill - a day when water thrown in the magic air +came down in clinking crystals, and sheaths of frost lay thick upon +the windows. But that and the one before it were among the few +days in that early period that lie, like a rock, under my character. + +Chapter 9 + +Grandma Bisnette came from Canada to work for the Browers. She +was a big, cheerful woman, with a dialect, an amiable disposition +and a swarthy, wrinkled face. She had a loose front tooth that +occupied all the leisure of her tongue. When she sat at her knitting +this big tooth clicked incessantly. On every stitch her tongue went +in and out across it' and I, standing often by her knees, regarded the +process with great curiosity. + +The reader may gather much from these frank and informing +words of Grandma Bisnette. 'When I los' my man, Mon Dieu! I +have two son. An' when I come across I bring him with me. Abe he +rough; but den he no bad man.' + +Abe was the butcher of the neighbourhood - that red-handed, +stony-hearted, necessary man whom the Yankee farmer in that +north country hires to do the cruel things that have to be done. He +wore ragged, dirty clothes and had a voice like a steam whistle. +His rough, black hair fell low and mingled with his scanty beard. +His hands were stained too often with the blood of some creature +we loved. I always crept under the bed in Mrs Brower's room +when Abe came - he was such a terror to me with his bloody work +and noisy oaths. Such men were the curse of the cleanly homes in +that country. There was much to shock the ears and eyes of +children in the life of the farm. It was a fashion among the help to +decorate their speech with profanity for the mere sound of it' and +the foul mouthings of low-minded men spread like a pestilence in +the fields. + +Abe came always with an old bay horse and a rickety buckboard. +His one foot on the dash, as he rode, gave the picture a dare-devil +finish. The lash of his bull-whip sang around him, and his great +voice sent its blasts of noise ahead. When we heard a fearful yell +and rumble in the distance, we knew Abe was coming. + +'Abe he come,' said Grandma Bisnette. 'Mon Dieu! he make de +leetle rock fly.' + +It was like the coming of a locomotive with roar of wheel and +whistle. In my childhood, as soon as I saw the cloud of dust, I put +for the bed and from its friendly cover would peek out' often, but +never venture far until the man of blood had gone. + +To us children he was a marvel of wickedness. There were those +who told how he had stood in the storm one night and dared the +Almighty to send the lightning upon him. + +The dog Fred had grown so old and infirm that one day they sent +for Abe to come and put an end to his misery. Every man on the +farm loved the old dog and not one of them would raise a hand to +kill him. Hope and I heard what Abe was coming to do, and when +the men had gone to the fields, that summer morning, we lifted +Fred into the little wagon m which he had once drawn me and +starting back of the barn stole away with him through the deep +grass of the meadow until we came out upon the highroad far +below. We had planned to take him to school and make him a nest +in the woodshed where he could share our luncheon and be out of +the way of peril. After a good deal of difficulty and heavy pulling +we got to the road at last. The old dog, now blind and helpless, sat +contentedly in the wagon while its wheels creaked and groaned +beneath him. We had gone but a short way in the road when we +heard the red bridge roar under rushing wheels and the familiar +yell of Abe. + +'We'd better run,' said Hope, ' 'er we'll git swore at.' + +I looked about me in a panic for some place to hide the party, but +Abe was coming fast and there was only time to pick up clubs and +stand our ground. + +'Here!' the man shouted as he pulled up along side of us, 'where ye +goin' with that dog?' + +'Go 'way,' I answered, between anger and tears, lifting my club in a +threatening manner. + +He laughed then - a loud guffaw that rang in the near woods. + +'What'll ye give me,' he asked leaning forward, his elbows on his +knees, 'What'll ye give me if I don't kill him?' + +I thought a moment. Then I put my hand in my pocket and +presently took out my jack-knife - that treasure Uncle Eb had +bought for me - and looked at it fondly. + +Then I offered it to him. + +Again he laughed loudly. + +'Anything else?' he demanded while Hope sat hugging the old dog +that was licking her hands. + +'Got forty cents that I saved for the fair,' said I promptly. + +Abe backed his horse and turned in the road. + +'Wall boy,' he said, 'Tell 'em I've gone home.' + +Then his great voice shouted, 'g'lang' the lash of his whip sang in +the air and off he went. + +We were first to arrive at the schoolhouse, that morning, and when +the other children came we had Fred on a comfortable bed of +grass in a corner of the woodshed. What with all the worry of that +day I said my lessons poorly and went home with a load on my +heart. Tomorrow would be Saturday; how were we to get food and +water to the dog? They asked at home if we had seen old Fred and +we both declared we had not - the first lie that ever laid its burden +on my conscience. We both saved all our bread and butter and +doughnuts next day, but we had so many chores to do it was +impossible to go to the schoolhouse with them. So we agreed to +steal away that night when all were asleep and take the food from +its hiding place. + +In the excitement of the day neither of us had eaten much. They +thought we were ill and sent us to bed early. When Hope came into +my room above stairs late in the evening we were both desperately +hungry. We looked at our store of doughnuts and bread and butter +under my bed. We counted it over. + +'Won't you try one o' the doughnuts,' I whispered hoping that she +would say yes so that I could try one also; for they did smell +mighty good. + +''Twouldn't be right" said she regretfully. 'There ain't any more 'n +he'll want now. + +''Twouldn't be right" I repeated with a sigh as I looked longingly at +one of the big doughnuts. 'Couldn't bear t' do it - could you?' + +'Don't seem as if I could,' she whispered, thoughtfully, her chin +upon her hand. + +Then she rose and went to the window. + +'O my! how dark it is!' she whispered, looking out into the night. + +'Purty dark!' I said, 'but you needn't be 'fraid. I'll take care o' you. If +we should meet a bear I'll growl right back at him - that's what +Uncle Eb tol' me t' do. I'm awful stout - most a man now! Can't +nuthin' scare me.' + +We could hear them talking below stairs and we went back to bed, +intending to go forth later when the house was still. But' +unfortunately for our adventure I fell asleep. + +It was morning when I opened my eyes again. We children looked +accusingly at each other while eating breakfast. Then we had to +be washed and dressed in our best clothes to go to meeting. When +the wagon was at the door and we were ready to start I had +doughnuts and bread and butter in every pocket of my coat and +trousers. I got in quickly and pulled the blanket over me so as to +conceal the fullness of my pockets. We arrived so late I had no +chance to go to the dog before we went into meeting. I was +wearing boots that were too small for me, and when I entered with +the others and sat down upon one of those straight backed seats of +plain, unpainted pine my feet felt as if I had been caught in a bear +trap. There was always such a silence in the room after the elder +had sat down and adjusted his spectacles that I could hear the +ticking of the watch he carried in the pocket of his broadcloth +waistcoat. For my own part I know I looked with too much longing +for the good of my soul on the great gold chain that spanned the +broad convexity of his stomach. Presently I observed that a couple +of young women were looking at me and whispering. Then +suddenly I became aware that there were sundry protuberances on +my person caused by bread and butter and doughnuts, and I felt +very miserable indeed. Now and then as the elder spoke the loud, +accusing neigh of some horse, tethered to the fence in the +schoolyard, mingled with his thunder. After the good elder had +been preaching an hour his big, fat body seemed to swim in my +tears. When he had finished the choir sang. Their singing was a +thing that appealed to the eye as well as the ear. Uncle Eb used to +say it was a great comfort to see Elkenah Samson sing bass. His +great mouth opened widely in this form of praise and his eyes had +a wild stare in them when he aimed at the low notes. + +Ransom Walker, a man of great dignity, with a bristling +moustache, who had once been a schoolmaster, led the choir and +carried the tenor part. It was no small privilege after the elder had +announced the hymn, to see him rise and tap the desk with his +tuning fork and hold it to his ear solemnly. Then he would seem to +press his chin full hard upon his throat while he warbled a scale. +Immediately, soprano, alto, bass and tenor launched forth upon the +sea of song. The parts were like the treacherous and conflicting +currents of a tide that tossed them roughly and sometimes +overturned their craft. And Ransom Walker showed always a +proper sense of danger and responsibility. Generally they got to +port safely on these brief excursions, though exhausted. He had a +way of beating time with his head while singing and I have no +doubt it was a great help to him. + +The elder came over to me after meeting, having taken my tears +for a sign of conviction. + +'May the Lord bless and comfort you, my boy!' said he. + +I got away shortly and made for the door. Uncle Eb stopped me. + +'My stars, Willie!' said he putting his hand on my upper coat +pocket' 'what ye got in there?' + +'Doughnuts,' I answered. + +'An' what's this?' he asked touching one of my side pockets. + +'Doughnuts,' I repeated. + +'An' this,' touching another. + +'That's doughnuts too,' I said. + +'An' this,' he continued going down to my trousers pocket. + +'Bread an' butter,' I answered, shamefacedly, and on the verge of +tears. + +'Jerusalem!' he exclaimed, 'must a 'spected a purty long sermon. + +'Brought 'em fer ol' Fred,' I replied. + +'Ol' Fred!' he whispered, 'where's he?' + +I told my secret then and we both went out with Hope to where we +had left him. He lay with his head between his paws on the bed of +grass just as I had seen him lie many a time when his legs were +weary with travel on Paradise Road, and when his days were yet +full of pleasure. We called to him and Uncle Eb knelt and touched +his head. Then he lifted the dog's nose, looked a moment into the +sightless eyes and let it fall again. + +'Fred's gone,' said he in a low tone as he turned away. 'Got there +ahead uv us, Willy.' + +Hope and I sat down by the old dog and wept bitterly. + +Chapter 10 + +Uncle Eb was a born lover of fun. But he had a solemn way of +fishing that was no credit to a cheerful man. It was the same when +he played the bass viol, but that was also a kind of fishing at which +he tried his luck in a roaring torrent of sound. Both forms of +dissipation gave him a serious look and manner, that came near +severity. They brought on his face only the light of hope and +anticipation or the shadow of disappointment. + +We had finished our stent early the day of which lam writing. +When we had dug our worms and were on our way to the brook +with pole and line a squint of elation had hold of Uncle Eb's face. +Long wrinkles deepened as he looked into the sky for a sign of the +weather, and then relaxed a bit as he turned his eyes upon the +smooth sward. It was no time for idle talk. We tiptoed over the +leafy carpet of the woods. Soon as I spoke he lifted his hand with a +warning 'Sh - h!' The murmur of the stream was in our ears. +Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Eb +beckoned to me. + +I came to him on tiptoe. + +'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log?' he whispered, +pointing with his finger. + +I nodded. + +'Cre-e-ep up jest as ca-a-areful as ye can,' he went on whispering. +'Drop in a leetle above an' let 'er float down.' + +Then he went on, below me, lifting his feet in slow and stealthy +strides. + +He halted by a bit of driftwood and cautiously threw in, his arm +extended, his figure alert. The squint on his face took a firmer grip. +Suddenly his pole gave a leap, the water splashed, his line sang in +the air and a fish went up like a rocket. As we were looking into +the treetops it thumped the shore beside him, quivered a moment +and flopped down the bank He scrambled after it and went to his +knees in the brook coming up empty-handed. The water was +slopping out of his boot legs. + +'Whew!' said he, panting with excitement, as I came over to him. +'Reg'lar ol' he one,' he added, looking down at his boots. 'Got away +from me - consarn him! Hed a leetle too much power in the arm., + +He emptied his boots, baited up and went back to his fishing. As I +looked up at him he stood leaning over the stream jiggling his +hook. In a moment I saw a tug at the line. The end of his pole +went under water like a flash. It bent double as Uncle Eb gave it a +lift. The fish began to dive and rush. The line cut the water in a +broad semicircle and then went far and near with long, quick +slashes. The pole nodded and writhed like a thing of life. Then +Uncle Eb had a look on him that is one of the treasures of my +memory. In a moment the fish went away with such a violent rush, +to save him, he had to throw his pole into the water. + +'Heavens an' airth!' he shouted, 'the ol' settler!' + +The pole turned quickly and went lengthwise into the rapids. He +ran down the bank and I after him. The pole was speeding through +the swift water. We scrambled over logs and through bushes, but +the pole went faster than we. Presently it stopped and swung +around. Uncle Eb went splashing into the brook. Almost within +reach of the pole he dashed his foot upon a stone, falling headlong +in the current. I was close upon his heels and gave him a hand. He +rose hatless, dripping from head to foot and pressed on. He lifted +his pole. The line clung to a snag and then gave way; the tackle +was missing. He looked at it silently, tilting his head. We walked +slowly to the shore. Neither spoke for a moment. + +'Must have been a big fish,' I remarked. + +'Powerful!' said he, chewing vigorously on his quid of tobacco as +he shook his head and looked down at his wet clothing. 'In a +desp'rit fix, ain't I?' + +'Too bad!' I exclaimed. + +'Seldom ever hed sech a disapp'intrnent" he said. 'Ruther counted +on ketchin' thet fish - he was s' well hooked.' + +He looked longingly at the water a moment 'If I don't go hum,' said +he, 'an' keep my mouth shet I'll say sumthin' I'll be sorry fer.' + +He was never quite the same after that. He told often of his +struggle with this unseen, mysterious fish and I imagined he was a +bit more given to reflection. He had had hold of the 'ol' settler of +Deep Hole' - a fish of great influence and renown there in Faraway. +Most of the local fishermen had felt him tug at the line one time or +another. No man had ever seen him for the water was black in +Deep Hole. No fish had ever exerted a greater influence on the +thought' the imagination, the manners or the moral character of his +contemporaries. Tip Taylor always took off his hat and sighed +when he spoke of the 'ol' settler'. Ransom Walker said he had once +seen his top fin and thought it longer than a razor. Ransom took to +idleness and chewing tobacco immediately after his encounter +with the big fish, and both vices stuck to him as long as he lived. +Everyone had his theory of the 'ol' settler'. Most agreed he was a +very heavy trout. Tip Taylor used to say that in his opinion ''twas +nuthin' more'n a plain, overgrown, common sucker,' but Tip came +from the Sucker Brook country where suckers lived in colder water +and were more entitled to respect. + +Mose Tupper had never had his hook in the 'ol' settler' and would +believe none of the many stories of adventure at Deep Hole that +had thrilled the township. + +'Thet fish hes made s' many liars 'round here ye dimno who t' +b'lieve,' he had said at the corners one day, after Uncle Eb had told +his story of the big fish. 'Somebody 't knows how t' fish hed +oughter go 'n ketch him fer the good o' the town - thet's what I +think.' + +Now Mr Tupper was an excellent man but his incredulity was +always too bluntly put. It had even led to some ill feeling. + +He came in at our place one evening with a big hook and line from +'down east' - the kind of tackle used in salt water. + +'What ye goin' t' dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Ketch thet fish ye talk 5' much about - goin' t' put him out o' the +way.' + +''Tain't fair,' said Uncle Eb, 'its reedic'lous. Like leading a pup with +a log chain.' + +'Don't care,' said Mose, 'I'm goin' t' go fishin t'morrer. If there reely +is any sech fish - which I don't believe there is - I'm goin' t' rassle +with him an' mebbe tek him out o' the river. Thet fish is sp'llin' the +moral character o' this town. He oughter be rode on a rail - thet fish +hed.' + +How he would punish a trout in that manner Mr Tupper failed to +explain, but his metaphor was always a worse fit than his trousers +and that was bad enough. + +It was just before haying and, there being little to do, we had also +planned to try our luck in the morning. When, at sunrise, we were +walking down the cow-path to the woods I saw Uncle Eb had a +coil of bed cord on his shoulder. + +'What's that for?' I asked. + +'Wall,' said he, 'goin' t' hev fun anyway. If we can't ketch one thing +we'll try another.' + +We had great luck that morning and when our basket was near full +we came to Deep Hole and made ready for a swim in the water +above it. Uncle Eb had looped an end of the bed cord and tied a +few pebbles on it with bits of string. + +'Now,' said he presently, 'I want t' sink this loop t' the bottom an' +pass the end o' the cord under the driftwood so 't we can fetch it +'crost under water.' + +There was a big stump, just opposite, with roots running down the +bank into the stream. I shoved the line under the drift with a pole +and then hauled it across where Uncle Eb drew it up the bank +under the stump roots. + +'In 'bout half an hour I cal'late Mose Tupper'll be 'long,' he +whispered. 'Wisht ye'd put on yer clo's an' lay here back o' the +stump an' hold on t' the cord. When ye feel a bite give a yank er +two an' haul in like Sam Hill - fifteen feet er more quicker'n scat. +Snatch his pole right away from him. Then lay still.' + +Uncle Eb left me, shortly, going up stream. It was near an hour +before I heard them coming. Uncle Eb was talking in a low tone as +they came down the other bank. + +'Drop right in there,' he was saying, 'an' let her drag down, through +the deep water, deliberate like. Git clus t' the bottom.' + +Peering through a screen of bushes I could see an eager look on the +unlovely face of Moses. He stood leaning toward the water and +jiggling his hook along the bottom. Suddenly I saw Mose jerk and +felt the cord move. I gave it a double twitch and began to pull. He +held hard for a jiffy and then stumbled and let go yelling like mad. +The pole hit the water with a splash and went out of sight like a +diving frog. I brought it well under the foam and driftwood. Deep +Hole resumed its calm, unruffled aspect. Mose went running +toward Uncle Eb. + +''S a whale!' he shouted. 'Ripped the pole away quicker'n lightnin'.' + +'Where is it?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Tuk it away fm me,' said Moses. 'Grabbed it jes' like thet" he +added with a violent jerk of his hand. + +'What d' he dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +Mose looked thoughtfully at the water and scratched his head, his +features all a tremble. + +'Dunno,' said he. 'Swallered it mebbe.' + +'Mean t' say ye lost hook, line, sinker 'n pole?' + +'Hook, line, sinker 'n pole,' he answered mournfully. 'Come nigh +haulin' me in tew.' + +''Tain't possible,' said Uncle Eb. + +Mose expectorated, his hands upon his hips, looking down at the +water. + +'Wouldn't eggzac'ly say 'twas possible,' he drawled, 'but 'twas a +fact.' + +'Yer mistaken,' said Uncle Eb. + +'No I hain't" was the answer, 'I tell ye I see it.' + +'Then if ye see it the nex' thing ye orter see 's a doctor. There's +sumthin' wrong with you sumwheres.' + +'Only one thing the matter o' me,' said Mose with a little twinge of +remorse. 'I'm jest a natural born perfec' dum fool. Never c'u'd +b'lieve there was any sech fish.' + +'Nobody ever said there was any sech fish,' said Uncle Eb. 'He's +done more t' you 'n he ever done t' me. Never served me no sech +trick as thet. If I was you I'd never ask nobody t' b'lieve it 'S a leetle +tew much.' + +Mose went slowly and picked up his hat. Then he returned to the +bank and looked regretfully at the water. + +'Never see the beat o' thet,' he went on. 'Never see sech power 'n a +fish. Knocks the spots off any fish I ever hearn of.' + +'Ye riled him with that big tackle o' yourn,' said Uncle Eb. 'He +wouldn't stan' it.' + +'Feel jest as if I'd hed holt uv a wil' cat" said Mose. 'Tuk the hull +thing - pole an' all - quicker 'n lightnin'. Nice a bit o' hickory as a +man ever see. Gol' durned if I ever heem o' the like o' that, ever.' + +He sat down a moment on the bank. + +'Got t' rest a minute,' he remarked. 'Feel kind o' wopsy after thet +squabble.' + +They soon went away. And when Mose told the story of 'the +swallered pole' he got the same sort of reputation he had given to +others. Only it was real and large and lasting. + +'Wha' d' ye think uv it?' he asked, when he had finished. + +'Wall,' said Ransom Walker, 'wouldn't want t' say right out plain t' +yer face.' + +''Twouldn't he p'lite,' said Uncle Eb soberly. + +'Sound a leetle ha'sh,' Tip Taylor added. + +'Thet fish has jerked the fear o' God out o' ye - thet's the way it +looks t' me,' said Carlyle Barber. + +'Yer up 'n the air, Mose,' said another. 'Need a sinker on ye.' They +bullied him - they talked him down, demurring mildly, but firmly. + +'Tell ye what I'll do,' said Mose sheepishly, 'I'll b'lieve you fellers if +you'll b'lieve me.' + +'What, swop even? Not much!' said one, with emphasis.' 'Twouldn't +be fair. Ye've ast us t' b'lieve a genuwine out 'n out impossibility.' + +Mose lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. There was +a look of embarrassment in his face. + +'Might a ben dreamin',' said he slowly. 'I swear it's gittin' so here 'n +this town a feller can't hardly b'lieve himself.' + +'Fur '5 my experience goes,' said Ransom Walker, 'he'd be a fool 'f +he did.' + +''Minds me o' the time I went fishin' with Ab Thomas,' said Uncle +Eb. 'He ketched an ol' socker the fast thing. I went off by myself 'n +got a good sized fish, but 'twant s' big 's hisn. So I tuk 'n opened his +mouth n poured in a lot o' fine shot. When I come back Ab he +looked at my fish 'n begun t' brag. When we weighed 'em mine was +a leetle heavier. + +'"What!" says he. "'Tain't possible thet leetle cuss uv a trout 's +heavier 'n mine." + +''Tis sarrin," I said. + +''Dummed deceivin' business," said he as he hefted 'em both. +"Gittin' so ye can't hardly b'lieve the stillyards."' + +Chapter 11 + +The fifth summer was passing since we came down Paradise Road +- the dog, Uncle Eb and I. Times innumerable I had heard my good +old friend tell the story of our coming west until its every incident +was familiar to me as the alphabet. Else I fear my youthful +memory would have served me poorly for a chronicle of my +childhood so exact and so extended as this I have written. Uncle +Eb's hair was white now and the voices of the swift and the panther +had grown mild and tremulous and unsatisfactory and even absurd. +Time had tamed the monsters of that imaginary wilderness and I +had begun to lose my respect for them. But one fear had remained +with me as I grew older - the fear of the night man. Every boy and +girl in the valley trembled at the mention of him. Many a time I +had held awake in the late evening to hear the men talk of him +before they went asleep - Uncle Eb and Tip Taylor. I remember a +night when Tip said, in a low awesome tone, that he was a ghost. +The word carried into my soul the first thought of its great and +fearful mystery. + +'Years and years ago,' said he, 'there was a boy by the name of +Nehemiah Brower. An' he killed another boy, once, by accident an' +run away an' was drownded.' + +'Drownded!' said Uncle Eb. 'How?' + +'In the ocean,' the first answered gaping. 'Went away off 'round the +world an' they got a letter that said he was drownded on his way to +Van Dieman's Land.' + +'To Van Dieman's Land!' + +'Yes, an some say the night man is the ghost o' the one he killed.' + +I remember waking that night and hearing excited whispers at the +window near my bed. It was very dark in the room and at first I +could not tell who was there. + +'Don't you see him?' Tip whispered. + +'Where?' I heard Uncle Be ask + +'Under the pine trees - see him move.' + +At that I was up at the window myself and could plainly see the +dark figure of a man standing under the little pine below us. + +'The night man, I guess,' said Uncle Be, 'but he won't do no harm. +Let him alone; he's going' away now.' + +We saw him disappear behind the trees and then we got back into +our beds again. I covered my head with the bedclothes and said a +small prayer for the poor night man. + +And in this atmosphere of mystery and adventure, among the plain +folk of Faraway, whose care of me when I was in great need, and +whose love of me always, I count among the priceless treasures of +God's providence, my childhood passed. And the day came near +when I was to begin to play my poor part in the world. + +BOOK TWO + +Chapter 12 + +It was a time of new things - that winter when I saw the end of my +fifteenth year. Then I began to enjoy the finer humours of life in +Faraway - to see with understanding; and by God's grace - to feel. + +The land of play and fear and fable was now far behind me and I +had begun to feel the infinite in the ancient forest' in the +everlasting hills, in the deep of heaven, in all the ways of men. +Hope Brower was now near woman grown. She had a beauty of +face and form that was the talk of the countryside. I have travelled +far and seen many a fair face hut never one more to my eye. I have +heard men say she was like a girl out of a story-book those days. + +Late years something had come between us. Long ago we had +fallen out of each other's confidence, and ever since she had +seemed to shun me. It was the trip in the sledgehouse that' years +after, came up between us and broke our childish intimacy. Uncle +Be had told, before company, how she had kissed me that day and +bespoke me for a husband, and while the others laughed loudly she +had gone out of the room crying. She would have little to say to me +then. I began to play with boys and she with girls. And it made me +miserable to hear the boys a bit older than I gossip of her beauty +and accuse each other of the sweet disgrace of love. + +But I must hasten to those events in Faraway that shaped our +destinies. And first comes that memorable night when I had the +privilege of escorting Hope to the school lyceum where the +argument of Jed Feary - poet of the hills - fired my soul with an +ambition that has remained with me always. + +Uncle Be suggested that I ask Hope to go with me. + +'Prance right up to her,' he said, 'an' say you'd be glad of the +pleasure of her company. + +It seemed to me a very dubious thing to do. I looked thoughtful +and turned red in the face. + +'Young man,' he continued, 'the boy thet's 'fraid o' women'll never +hev whiskers.' + +'How's that?' I enquired. + +'Be scairt t' death,' he answered,' 'fore they've hed time t' start Ye +want t' step right up t' the rack jes' if ye'd bought an' paid +fer yerself an' was proud o' yer bargain.' + +I took his advice and when I found Hope alone in the parlour I +came and asked her, very awkwardly as I now remember, to go +with me. + +She looked at me, blushing, and said she would ask her mother. + +And she did, and we walked to the schoolhouse together that +evening, her hand holding my arm, timidly, the most serious pair +that ever struggled with the problem of deportment on such an +occasion. I was oppressed with a heavy sense of responsibility in +every word I uttered. + +Ann Jane Foster, known as 'Scooter Jane', for her rapid walk and +stiff carriage, met us at the corners on her way to the schoolhouse. + +'Big turn out I guess,' said she. 'Jed Feary 'n' Squire Town is comin' +over from Jingleville an' all the big guns'll be there. I love t' hear +Jed Feary speak, he's so techin'.' + +Ann Jane was always looking around for some event likely to +touch her feelings. She went to every funeral in Faraway and, when +sorrow was scarce in her own vicinity, journeyed far in quest of it + +'Wouldn't wonder 'f the fur flew when they git t' going',' she +remarked, and then hurried on, her head erect, her body +motionless, her legs flying. Such energy as she gave to the pursuit +of mourning I have never seen equalled in any other form of +dissipation. + +The schoolhouse was nearly full of people when we came in. The +big boys were wrestling in the yard; men were lounging on the +rude seats, inside, idly discussing crops and cattle and lapsing into +silence, frequently, that bore the signs both of expectancy and +reflection. Young men and young women sat together on one side +of the house whispering and giggling. Alone among them was the +big and eccentric granddaughter of Mrs Bisnette, who was always +slapping some youngster for impertinence. Jed Feary and Squire +Town sat together behind a pile of books, both looking very +serious. The long hair and beard of the old poet were now white +and his form bent with age. He came over and spoke to us and took +a curl of Hope's hair in his stiffened fingers and held it to the +lamplight. + +'What silky gold!' he whispered.' 'S a skein o' fate, my dear girl!' + +Suddenly the schoolteacher rapped on the desk and bade us come +to order and Ransom Walker was called to the chair. + +'Thet there is talent in Faraway township,' he said, having +reluctantly come to the platform, 'and talent of the very highest +order, no one can deny who has ever attended a lyceum at the +Howard schoolhouse. I see evidences of talent in every face before +me. And I wish to ask what are the two great talents of the Yankee +- talents that made our forefathers famous the world over? I pause +for an answer.' + +He had once been a schoolmaster and that accounted for his +didactic style. + +'What are the two great talents of the Yankee?' he repeated, his +hands clasped before him. + +'Doughnuts an' pie,' said Uncle Be who sat in a far corner. + +'No sir,' Mr Walker answered, 'there's some hev a talent fer sawin' +wood, but we don't count that. It's war an' speakin', they are the two +great talents of the Yankee. But his greatest talent is the gift o' gab. +Give him a chance t' talk it over with his enemy an' he'll lick 'im +without a fight. An' when his enemy is another Yankee - why, they +both git licked, jest as it was in the case of the man thet sold me +lightnin' rods. He was sorry he done it before I got through with +him. If we did not encourage this talent in our sons they would be +talked to death by our daughters. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives +me pleasure t' say that the best speakers in Faraway township have +come here t' discuss the important question: + +'Resolved, that intemperance has caused more misery than war? + +'I call upon Moses Tupper to open for the affirmative.' + +Moses, as I have remarked, had a most unlovely face with a thin +and bristling growth of whiskers. In giving him features Nature +had been generous to a fault. He had a large red nose, and a mouth +vastly too big for any proper use. It was a mouth fashioned for odd +sayings. He was well to do and boasted often that he was a +self-made man. Uncle Be used to say that if Mose Tupper had had +the 'makin' uv himself he'd oughter done it more careful.' + +I remember not much of the speech he made, but the picture of +him, as he rose on tiptoe and swung his arms like a man fighting +bees, and his drawling tones are as familiar as the things of +yesterday. + +'Gentlemen an' ladies,' said he presently, 'let me show you a pictur'. +It is the drunkard's child. It is hungry an' there ain't no food in its +home. The child is poorer'n a straw-fed hoss. 'Tain't hed a thing t' +eat since day before yistiddy. Pictur' itto yourselves as it comes +cryin' to its mother an' says: + +'"Ma! Gi' me a piece o' bread an' butter." + +'She covers her face with her apron an' says she, "There am none +left, my child." + +'An' bime bye the child comes agin' an' holds up its poor little han's +an' says: "Ma! please gi' me a piece O' cake." + +'An' she goes an' looks out O' the winder, er mebbe pokes the fire, +an' says: "There am' none left, my child." + +'An' bime bye it comes agin' an' it says: "Please gi' me a little piece +O' pie." + +'An' she mebbe flops into a chair an' says, sobbin', "There ain' none +left, my child." + +'No pie! Now, Mr Chairman!' exclaimed the orator, as he lifted +both hands high above his head, 'If this ain't misery, in God's name, +what is it? + +'Years ago, when I was a young man, Mr President, I went to a +dance one night at the village of Migleyville. I got a toothache, an' +the Devil tempted me with whiskey, an' I tuk one glass an' then +another an' purty soon I began t' thank I was a mighty hefty sort of +a character, I did, an' I stud on a comer an' stumped everybody t' +fight with me, an' bime bye an accomanodatin' kind of a chap +come along, an' that's all I remember O' what happened. when I +come to, my coat tails had been tore off, I'd lost one leg O' my +trousers, a bran new silver watch, tew dollars in money, an a pair +O' spectacles. When I stud up an' tried t' realise what hed happened +I felt jes' like a blind rooster with only one leg an' no tail feathers.' + +A roar of laughter followed these frank remarks of Mr Tupper and +broke into a storm of merriment when Uncle Eb rose and said: + +'Mr President, I hope you see that the misfortunes of our friend was +due t' war, an' not to intemperance.' + +Mr Tupper was unhorsed. For some minutes he stood helpless or +shaking with the emotion that possessed all. Then he finished +lamely and sat down. + +The narrowness of the man that saw so much where there was so +little in his own experience and in the trivial events of his own +township was what I now recognise as most valuable to the +purpose of this history. It was a narrowness that covered a +multitude of people in St Lawrence county in those days. + +Jed Feary was greeted with applause and then by respectfiil silence +when he rose to speak. The fame of his verse and his learning had +gone far beyond the narrow boundaries of the township in which +he lived. It was the biggest thing in the county. Many a poor sinner +who had gone out of Faraway to his long home got his first praise +in the obituary poem by Jed Feary. These tributes were generally +published in the county paper and paid for by the relatives of the +deceased at the rate of a dollar a day for the time spent on them, or +by a few days of board and lodging glory and consolation that was, +alas! too cheap, as one might see by a glance at his forlorn figure. I +shall never forget the courtly manner, so strangely in contrast with +the rude deportment of other men in that place, with which he +addressed the chairman and the people. The drawling dialect of the +vicinity that flavoured his conversation fell from him like a mantle +as he spoke and the light in his soul shone upon that little company +a great light, as I now remember, that filled me with burning +thoughts of the world and its mighty theatre of action. The way of +my life lay clear before me, as I listened, and its days of toil and +the sweet success my God has given me, although I take it humbly +and hold it infinitely above my merit. I was to get learning and +seek some way of expressing what was in me. + +It would ill become me to try to repeat the words of this venerable +seer, but he showed that intemperance was an individual sin, while +war was a national evil. That one meant often the ruin of a race; +the other the ruin of a family; that one was as the ocean, the other +as a single drop in its waters. And he told us of the full of empires +and the millions that had suffered the oppression of the conqueror +and perished by the sword since Agamemnon. + +After the debate a young lady read a literary paper full of clumsy +wit, rude chronicles of the countryside, essays on 'Spring', and like +topics -the work of the best talent of Faraway. Then came the +decision, after which the meeting adjourned. + +At the door some other boys tried 'to cut me out'. I came through +the noisy crowd, however, with Hope on my arm and my heart flill +of a great happiness. + +'Did you like it?' she asked. + +'Very much,' I answered. + +'What did you enjoy most?' + +'Your company,' I said, with a fine air of gallantry. + +'Honestly?' + +'Honestly. I want to take you to Rickard's sometime?' + +That was indeed a long cherished hope. + +'Maybe I won't let you,' she said. + +'Wouldn't you?' + +'You'd better ask me sometime and see.' + +'I shall. I wouldn't ask any other girl.' + +'Well,' she added, with a sigh, 'if a boy likes one girl I don't think +he ought to have anything to do with other girls. I hate a flirt.' + +I happened to hear a footfall in the snow behind us, and looking +back saw Ann Jane Foster going slow in easy hearing. She knew +all, as we soon found out. + +'I dew jes love t' see young folks enjoy themselves,' said she, 'it's +entrancin".' + +Coming in at our gate I saw a man going over the wall back of the +big stables. The house was dark + +'Did you see the night man?' Elizabeth Brower whispered as I lit +the lamp. 'Went through the garden just now. I've been watching +him here at the window.' + +Chapter 13 + +The love of labour was counted a great virtue there in Faraway. As +for myself I could never put my heart in a hoe handle or in any like +tool of toil. They made a blister upon my spirit as well as upon my +hands. I tried to find in the sweat of my brow that exalted pleasure +of which Mr Greeley had visions in his comfortable retreat on +Printing House Square. But unfortunately I had not his point of +view. + +Hanging in my library, where I may see it as I write, is the old +sickle of Uncle Eb. The hard hickory of its handle is worn thin by +the grip of his hand. It becomes a melancholy symbol when I +remember how also the hickory had worn him thin and bent him +low, and how infinitely better than all the harvesting of the sickle +was the strength of that man, diminishing as it wore the wood. I +cannot help smiling when I look at the sickle and thank of the soft +hands and tender amplitude of Mr Greeley. + +The great editor had been a playmate of David Brower when they +were boys, and his paper was read with much reverence in our +home. + +'How quick ye can plough a ten-acre lot with a pen,' Uncle Eb used +to say when we had gone up to bed after father had been reading +aloud from his Tribune. + +Such was the power of the press in that country one had but to say +of any doubtful thing, 'Seen it in print,' to stop all argument. If +there were any further doubt he had only to say that he had read it +either in the Tribune or the Bible, and couldn't remember which. +Then it was a mere question of veracity in the speaker. Books and +other reading were carefully put away for an improbable time of +leisure. + +'I might break my leg sometime,' said David Brower, 'then they'll +come handy.' But the Tribune was read carefully every week. + +I have seen David Brower stop and look at me while I have been +digging potatoes, with a sober grin such as came to him always +after he had swapped 'hosses' and got the worst of it. Then he +would show me again, with a little impatience in his manner, how +to hold the handle and straddle the row. He would watch me for a +moment, turn to Uncle Eb, laugh hopelessly and say: 'Thet boy'll +hev to be a minister. He can't work.' + +But for Elizabeth Brower it might have gone hard with me those +days. My mind was always on my books or my last talk with Jed +Feary, and she shared my confidence and fed my hopes and +shielded me as much as possible from the heavy work. Hope had a +better head for mathematics than I, and had always helped me with +my sums, but I had a better memory and an aptitude in other things +that kept me at the head of most of my classes. Best of all at +school I enjoyed the 'compositions' - I had many thoughts, such as +they were, and some facility of expression, I doubt not, for a child. +Many chronicles of the countryside came off my pen - sketches of +odd events and characters there in Faraway. These were read to the +assembled household. Elizabeth Brower would sit looking gravely +down at me, as I stood by her knees reading, in those days of my +early boyhood. Uncle Eb listened with his head turned curiously, +as if his ear were cocked for coons. Sometimes he and David +Brower would slap their knees and laugh heartily, whereat my +foster mother would give them a quick glance and shake her head. +For she was always fearful of the day when she should see in her +children the birth of vanity, and sought to put it off as far as might +be. Sometimes she would cover her mouth to hide a smile, and, +when I had finished, look warningly at the rest, and say it was +good, for a little boy. Her praise never went further, and indeed all +those people hated flattery as they did the devil and frowned upon +conceit She said that when the love of flattery got hold of one he +would lie to gain it + +I can see this slender, blue-eyed woman as I write. She is walking +up and down beside her spinning-wheel. I can hear the dreary +buz-z-z-z of the spindle as she feeds it with the fleecy ropes. That +loud crescendo echoes in the still house of memory. I can hear her +singing as she steps forward and slows the wheel and swings the +cradle with her foot: + +'On the other side of Jordan, +In the sweet fields of Eden, +Where the tree of Life is blooming, +There is rest for you. + +She lays her hand to the spokes again and the roar of the spindle +drowns her voice. + +All day, from the breakfast hour to supper time, I have heard the +dismal sound of the spirmng as she walked the floor, content to +sing of rest but never taking it. + +Her home was almost a miracle of neatness. She could work with +no peace of mind until the house had been swept and dusted. A fly +speck on the window was enough to cloud her day. She went to +town with David now and then - not oftener than once a quarter - +and came back ill and exhausted. If she sat in a store waiting for +David, while he went to mill or smithy, her imagination gave her +no rest. That dirt abhorring mind of hers would begin to clean the +windows, and when that was finished it would sweep the floor and +dust the counters. In due course it would lower the big chandelier +and take out all the lamps and wash the chimneys with soap and +water and rub them till they shone. Then, if David had not come, it +would put in the rest of its time on the woodwork. With all her +cleaning I am sure the good woman kept her soul spotless. +Elizabeth Brower believed in goodness and the love of God, and +knew no fear. Uncle Eb used to say that wherever Elizabeth +Brower went hereafter it would have to be clean and comfortable. + +Elder Whitmarsh came often to dinner of a Sunday, when he and +Mrs Brower talked volubly about the Scriptures, he taking a +sterner view of God than she would allow. He was an Englishman +by birth, who had settled in Faraway because there he had found +relief for a serious affliction of asthma. + +He came over one noon in the early summer, that followed the +event of our last chapter, to tell us of a strawberry party that +evening at the White Church. + +'I've had a wonderful experience,' said he as he took a seat on the +piazza, while Mrs Brower came and sat near him. 'I've discovered a +great genius - a wandering fiddler, and I shall try to bring him to +play for us.' + +'A fiddler! why, Elder!' said she, 'you astonish me!' + +'Nothing but sacred music,' he said, lifting his hand. 'I heard him +play all the grand things today - "Rock of Ages", "Nearer My God, +to Thee", "The Marseillaise" and "Home, Sweet Home". Lifted me +off my feet! I've heard the great masters in New York and London, +but no greater player than this man.' + +'Where is he and where did he come from?' + +'He's at my house now,' said the good man. 'I found him this +morning. He stood under a tree by the road side, above Nortlrup's. +As I came near I heard the strains of "The Marseillaise". For more +than an hour I sat there listening. It was wonderful, Mrs Brower, +wonderful! The poor fellow is eccentric. He never spoke to me. +His clothes were dusty and worn. But his music went to my heart +like a voice from Heaven. when he had finished I took him home +with me, gave him food and a new coat, and left him sleeping. I +want you to come over, and be sure to bring Hope. She must sing +for us.' + +'Mr Brower will be tired out, but perhaps the young people may +go,' she said, looking at Hope and me. + +My heart gave a leap as I saw in Hope's eyes a reflection of my +own joy. In a moment she came and gave her mother a sounding +kiss and asked her what she should wear. + +'I must look my best, mother,' she said. + +'My child,' said the elder, 'it's what you do and not what you wear +that's important.' + +'They're both important, Elder,' said my foster mother. You should +teach your people the duty of comeliness. They honour their +Maker when they look their best.' + +The spirit of liberalism was abroad in the sons of the Puritans. In +Elizabeth Brower the andent austerity of her race had been freely +diluted with humour and cheerfulness and human sympathy. It +used to be said of Deacon Hospur, a good but lazy man, that he +was given both to prayer and profanity. Uncle Eb, who had once +heard the deacon swear, when the latter had been bruised by a +kicking cow, said that, so far as he knew, the deacon never swore +except when 'twas necessary. Indeed, most of those men had, I +doubt not, too little of that fear of God in them that characterised +their fathers. And yet, as shall appear, there were in Faraway some +relics of a stern faith. + +Hope came out in fine feather, and although I have seen many +grand ladles, gowned for the eyes of kings, I have never seen a +lovelier figure than when, that evening, she came tripping down to +the buggy. It was three miles to the white Church, and riding over +in the twilight I laid the plan of my life before her. She sat a +moment in silence after I had finished. + +'I am going away, too,' she remarked, with a sigh. + +'Going away!' I said with some surprise, for in all my plans I had +secretly counted on returning in grand style to take her back with +me. + +'Going away,' said she decisively. + +'It isn't nice for girls to go away from home,' I said. + +'It isn't nice for boys, either,' said she. + +We had come to the church, its open doors and windows all aglow +with light. I helped her out at the steps, and hitched my horse +under the long shed. We entered together and made our way +through the chattering crowd to the little cloakroom in one corner. +Elder Whitmarsh arrived in a moment and the fiddler, a short, +stout, stupid-looking man, his fiddle in a black box under his arm, +followed him to the platform that had been cleared of its pulpit +The stranger stood staring vacantly at the crowd until the elder +motioned him to a chair, when he obeyed with the hesitating, blind +obedience of a dog. Then the elder made a brief prayer, and after a +few remarks flavoured with puns, sacred and immemorial as the +pulpit itself, started a brief programme of entertainment. A broad +smile marked the beginning of his lighter mood. His manner +seemed to say: 'Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will give good +heed, you shall see I can be witty on occasion.' + +Then a young man came to the platform and recited, after which +Hope went forward and sang 'The Land o' the Leal' with such spirit +that I can feel my blood go faster even now as I thank of it, and of +that girlish figure crowned with a glory of fair curls that fell low +upon her waist and mingled with the wild pink roses at her bosom. +The fiddler sat quietly as if he heard nothing until she began to +sing, when he turned to look at her. The elder announced, after the +ballad, that he had brought with him a wonderful musician who +would favour them with some sacred music. He used the word +'sacred' because he had observed, I suppose, that certain of the +'hardshells' were looking askance at the fiddle. There was an +awkward moment in which the fiddler made no move or sign of +intelligence. The elder stepped near him and whispered. Getting no +response, he returned to the front of the platform and said: 'We +shall first resign ourselves to social intercourse and the good things +the ladies have provided.' + +Mountains of frosted cake reared their snowy summits on a long +table, and the strawberries, heaped in saucers around them, were +like red foothills. I remember that while they were serving us Hope +and I were introduced to one Robert Livingstone - a young New +Yorker, stoppmg at the inn near by, on his way to the big woods. +He was a handsome fellow, with such a fine air of gallantry and so +trig in fashionable clothes that he made me feel awkward and +uncomfortable. + +'I have never heard anything more delightful than that ballad,' he +said to Hope. 'You must have your voice trained - you really must. +It will make a great name for you.' + +I wondered then why his words hurt me to the soul. The castle of +my dreams had fallen as he spoke. A new light came into her face - +I did not know then what it meant. + +'Will you let me call upon you before I leave - may I?' He turned to +me while she stood silent. 'I wish to see your father,' he added. + +'Certanly,' she answered, blushing, 'you may come - if you care to +come. + +The musician had begun to thrum the strings of his violin. We +turned to look at him. He still sat in his chair, his ear bent to the +echoing chamber of the violin. Soon he laid his bow to the strings +and a great chord hushed every whisper and died into a sweet, low +melody, in which his thought seemed to be feeling its way through +sombre paths of sound. The music brightened, the bow went faster, +and suddenly 'The Girl I Left Behind Me' came rushing off the +strings. A look of amazement gathered on the elder's face and +deepened into horror. It went from one to another as if it had been +a dish of ipecac. Ann Jane Foster went directly for her things, and +with a most unchristian look hurried out into the night. Half a +dozen others followed her, while the unholy music went on, its +merry echoes rioting in that sacred room, hallowed with memories +of the hour of conviction, of the day of mourning, of the coming of +the bride in her beauty. + +Deacon Hospur rose and began to drawl a sort of apology, when +the player stopped suddenly and shot an oath at him. The deacon +staggered under the shock of it. His whiskers seemed to lift a bit +like the hair of a cat under provocation. Then he tried to speak, but +only stuttered helplessly a moment as if his tongue were oscillating +between silence and profanity, and was finally pulled down by his +wife, who had laid hold of his coat tails. If it had been any other +man than Deacon Hospur it would have gone badly with the +musician then and there, but we boys saw his discomfiture with +positive gratitude. In a moment all rose, the dishes were gathered +up, and many hurried away with indignant glances at the poor +elder, who was busy taking counsel with some of the brethren. + +I have never seen a more pathetic figure than that of poor Nick +Goodall as he sat there thrumming the strings of which he was a +Heaven-born master. I saw him often after that night - a poor, +halfwitted creature, who wandered from inn to inn there in the +north country, trading music for hospitality. A thoroughly +intelligible sentence never passed his lips, but he had a great gift of +eloquence in music. Nobody knew whence he had come or any +particular of his birth or training or family. But for his sullen +temper, that broke into wild, unmeaning profanity at times, Nick +Goodall would have made fame and fortune. + +He stared at the thinning crowd as if he had begun dimly to +comprehend the havoc he had wrought. Then he put on his hat, +came down off the platform, and shuffled out of the open door, his +violin in one hand, its box in the other. There were not more than a +dozen of us who followed him into the little churchyard. The moon +was rising, and the shadows of lilac and rose bush, of slab and +monument lay long across the green mounds. Standing there +between the graves of the dead he began to play. I shall never +forget that solemn calling of the silver string: + +'Come ye disconsolate where'er ye languish.' + +It was a new voice, a revelation, a light where darkness had been, +to Hope and to me. We stood listening far into the night, forgetful +of everything, even the swift flight of the hours. + +Loud, impassioned chords rose into the moonlit sky and sank to a +faint whisper of melody, when we could hear the gossip of the +birds in the belfry and under the eaves; trembling tones of +supplication, wailing notes of longing and regret swept through the +silent avenues of the churchyard, thrilling us with their eloquence. +For the first time we heard the music of Handel, of Mendelssohn, +of Paganini, and felt its power, then knowing neither name nor +theme. Hour by hour he played on for the mere joy of it. When we +shook hands with the elder and tiptoed to the buggy he was still +playing. We drove slowly and listened a long way down the road. I +could hear the strains of that ballad, then new to me, but now +familiar, growing fainter in the distance: + +O ye'll tak' the high road an' I'll tak' the low road +An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye; +But me an' me true love will never meet again +On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond. + +what connection it may have had with the history of poor Nick +Goodall*1 I have often wondered. + +As the last note died into silence I turned to Hope, and she was +crying. + +'Why are you crying?' I asked, in as miserable a moment as I have +ever known. + +'It's the music,' she said. + +*1 Poor Nick Coodall died in the almshouse of Jefferson County +some thirty years ago. A better account of this incident was widely +printed at that time. + +We both sat in silence, then, hearing only the creak of the buggy as +it sped over the sandy road. Well ahead of us I saw a man who +suddenly turned aside, vaulting over the fence and running into the +near woods. + +'The night man!' I exclaimed, pulling up a moment to observe him. + +Then a buggy came in sight, and presently we heard a loud 'hello' +from David Brower, who, worried by our long stay, had come out +in quest of us. + +Chapter 14 + +Hope's love of music became a passion after that night. Young Mr +Livingstone, 'the city chap' we had met at the church, came over +next day. His enthusiasm for her voice gave us all great hope of it. +David Brower said he would take her away to the big city when +she was older. They soon decided to send her in September to the +big school in Hillsborough. + +'She's got t' be a lady,' said David Brower, as he drew her into his +lap the day we had all discussed the matter. 'She's leamt everything +in the 'rithinetic an' geography an' speller. I want her t' learn +somethin' more scientific.' + +'Now you're talkin',' said Uncle Eb. 'There's lots o' things ye can't +learn by cipherin'. Nuthin's too good fer Hope.' + +'I'd like t' know what you men expect of her anyway,' said +Elizabeth Brower. + +'A high stepper,' said Uncle Eb. 'We want a slick coat, a kind uv a +toppy head, an a lot O' ginger. So't when we hitch 'er t' the pole +bime bye we shan't be 'shamed o' her.' + +'Eggzac'ly,' said David Brower, laughing. 'An' then she shall have +the best harness in the market.' + +Hope did not seem to comprehend all the rustic metaphors that had +been applied to her. A look of puzzled amusement came over her +face, and then she ran away into the garden, her hair streaming +from under her white sun-bonnet. + +'Never see sech a beauty! Beats the world,' said Uncle Eb in a +whisper, whereat both David and Elizabeth shook their heads. + +'Lord o' mercy! Don't let her know it,' Elizabeth answered, in a low +tone. 'She's beginning to have-' + +Just then Hope came by us leading her pet filly that had been born +within the month. Immediately Mrs Brower changed the subject. + +'To have what?' David enquired as soon as the girl was out of +hearing. + +'Suspicions,' said Elizabeth mournflllly. 'Spends a good deal of her +time at the looking-glass. I think the other girls tell her and then +that young Livingstone has been turning her head.' + +'Turning her head!' he exclaimed. + +'Turning her head,' she answered. 'He sat here the other day and +deliberately told her that he had never seen such a complexion and +such lovely hair.' + +Elizabeth Brower mocked his accent with a show of contempt that +feebly echoed my own emotions. + +'That's the way o' city folks, mother,' said David. + +'It's a bad way,' she answered. 'I do not thank he ought to come +here. Hope's a child yet, and we mustn't let her get notions.' + +'I'll tell him not t' come any more,' said David, as he and Uncle Eb +rose to go to their work + +'I'm 'fraid she ought not to go away to school for a year yet,' said +Elizabeth, a troubled look in her face. + +'Pshaw, mother! Ye can't keep her under yer wing alwus,' said he. +'Well, David, you know she is very young and uncommonly - ' she +hesitated. + +'Han'some,' said he, 'we might as well own up if she is our child.' + +'If she goes away,' continued Elizabeth, 'some of us ought t' go with +her.' + +Then Uncle Eb and David went to their work in the fields and I to +my own task That very evening they began to talk of renting the +farm and going to town with the children. + +I had a stent of cording wood that day and finished it before two +o'clock Then I got my pole of mountain ash, made hook and line +ready, dug some worms and went fishing. I cared not so much for +the fishing as for the solitude of the woods. I had a bit of thing to +do. In the thick timber there was a place where Tinkle brook began +to hurry and break into murmurs on a pebble bar, as if its feet were +tickled. A few more steps and it burst into a peal of laughter that +lasted half the year as it tumbled over narrow shelves of rock into +a foamy pool. Many a day I had sat fishing for hours at the little +fall under a birch tree, among the brakes and moss. No ray of +sunlight ever got to the dark water below me - the lair of many a +big fish that had yielded to the temptation of my bait. Here I lay in +the cool shade while a singular sort of heart sickness came over +me. A wild partridge was beating his gong in the near woods all +the afternoon. The sound of the water seemed to break in the +tree-tops and fall back upon me. I had lain there thinking an hour +or more when I caught the jar of approaching footsteps. Looking +up I saw Jed Feary coming through the bushes, pole in hand. + +'Fishin'?' he asked. + +'Only thinking,' I answered. + +'Couldn't be in better business,' said he as he sat down beside me. + +More than once he had been my father confessor and I was glad he +had come. + +'In love?' he asked. 'No boy ever thinks unless he's in love.' + +'In trouble,' said I. + +'Same thing,' he answered, lighting his pipe. 'Love is trouble with a +bit of sugar in it - the sweetest trouble a man can have. what's the +matter?' + +'It's a great secret,' I said, 'I have never told it. I am in love.' + +'Knew it,' he said, puffing at his pipe and smiling in a kindly way. +'Now let's put in the trouble.' + +'She does not love me,' I answered. + +'Glad of it,' he remarked. 'I've got a secret t, tell you.' + +'What's that?' I enquired. + +'Wouldn't tell anybody else for the world, my boy,' he said, 'it's +between you an' me.' + +'Between you an' me,' I repeated. + +'Well,' he said, you're a fool.' + +'That's no secret,' I answered much embarrassed. + +'Yes it is,' he insisted, 'you're smart enough an' ye can have most +anything in this world if ye take the right road. Ye've grown t' be a +great big strapping fellow but you're only - sixteen?' + +'That's all,' I said mournfully. + +'Ye're as big a fool to go falling in love as I'd be. Ye're too young +an' I'm too old. I say to you, wait. Ye've got to go t' college.' + +'College!' I exclaimed, incredulously. + +'Yes! an' thet's another secret,' said he. I tol' David Brower what I +thought o' your writing thet essay on bugs in pertickier - an' I tol' +'im what people were sayin' o' your work in school.' + +'What d' he say?' I asked. + +'Said Hope had tol' him all about it - that she was as proud o' you as +she was uv her curls, an' I believe it. "Well," says I, "y' oughter sen' +that boy t' college." "Goin' to," says he. "He'll go t' the 'Cademy this +fall if he wants to. Then he can go t' college soon's he's ready." +Threw up my hat an' shouted I was that glad.' + +As he spoke the old man's face kindled with enthusiasm. In me he +had one who understood him, who saw truth in his thought, music +in his verse, a noble simplicity in his soul. I took his hand in mine +and thanked him heartily. Then we rose and came away together. + +'Remember,' he said, as we parted at the corner, 'there's a way laid +out fer you. In God's time it will lead to every good thing you +desire. Don't jump over the fence. Don't try t' pass any milestun +'fore ye've come to it. Don't mope. Keep yer head cool with +philosophy, yer feet warm with travel an' don't worry bout yer +heart. It won't turn t' stun if ye do keep it awhile. Allwus hev +enough of it about ye t' do business with. Goodbye!' + +Chapter 15 + +Gerald Brower, who was a baby when I came to live at Faraway, +and was now eleven, had caught a cold in seed time, and he had +never quite recovered. His coughing had begun to keep him awake, +and one night it brought alarm to the whole household. Elizabeth +Brower was up early in the morning and called Uncle Eb, who +went away for the doctor as soon as light came. We ate our +breakfast in silence. Father and mother and Grandma Bisnette +spoke only in low tones and somehow the anxiety in their faces +went to my heart. Uncle Eb returned about eight o'clock and said +the doctor was coming. Old Doctor Bigsby was a very great man in +that country. Other physicians called him far and wide for +consultation. I had always regarded him with a kind of awe +intensified by the aroma of his drugs and the gleam of his lancet. +Once I had been his patient and then I had trembled at his +approach. when he took my little wrist in his big hand, I remember +with what reluctance I stuck out my quivering tongue, black, as I +feared with evidences of prevarication. + +He was a picture for a painter man as he came that morning erect +in his gig. who could forget the hoary majesty of his head - his +'stovepipe' tilted back, his white locks flying about his ears? He +had a long nose, a smooth-shaven face and a left eye that was a +trifle turned. His thoughts were generally one day behind the +calendar. Today he seemed to be digesting the affairs of yesterday. +He was, therefore, absentminded, to a degree that made no end of +gossip. If he came out one day with shoe-strings flying, in his +remorse the next he would forget his collar; if one told him a good +joke today, he might not seem to hear it, but tomorrow he would +take it up in its turn and shake with laughter. + +I remember how, that morning after noting the symptoms of his +patient, he sat a little in silent reflection. He knew that colour in +the cheek, that look in the eye - he had seen so much of it. His legs +were crossed and one elbow thrown carelessly over the back of his +chair. We all sat looking at him anxiously. In a moment he began +chewing hard on his quid of tobacco. Uncle Eb pushed the +cuspidor a bit nearer. The doctor expectorated freely and resumed +his attitude of reflection. The clock ticked loudly, the patient +sighed, our anxiety increased. Uncle Eb spoke to father, in a low +tone, whereupon the doctor turned suddenly, with a little grunt of +enquiry, and seeing he was not addressed, sank again into +thoughtful repose. I had begun to fear the worst when suddenly the +hand of the doctor swept the bald peak of benevolence at the top of +his head. Then a smile began to spread over his face. It was as if +some feather of thought had begun to tickle him. In a moment his +head was nodding with laughter that brought a great sense of relief +to all of us. In a slow, deliberate tone he began to speak: + +'I was over t' Rat Tupper's t'other day,' said he, 'Rat was sitting with +me in the door yard. Purty soon a young chap came in, with a +scythe, and asked if he might use the grindstun. He was a new +hired man from somewhere near. He didn't know Rat, an' Rat +didn't know him. So Rat o' course had t' crack one o' his jokes. + +'"May I use yer grindstun?" said the young feller. + +'"Dunno," said Rat, "I'm only the hired man here. Go an' ask Mis' +Tupper." + +'The ol' lady had overheard him an' so she says t' the young feller, +"Yes - ye can use the grindstun. The hired man out there'll turn it +fer ye." + +'Rat see he was trapped, an' so he went out under the plum tree, +where the stun was, an' begun t' turn. The scythe was dull an' the +young feller bore on harder'n wuz reely decent fer a long time. Rat +begun t' git very sober lookin'. + +'"Ain't ye 'bout done," said he. + +'"Putty nigh," said the young feller bearin' down a leetle harder all +the time. + +'Rat made the stun go faster. putty soon he asked agin, "Ain't ye +done yit?" + +'"putty nigh!" says the other feeling o' the edge. + +'"I'm done," said Rat, an' he let go o' the handle. "I dunno 'bout the +scythe but I'm a good deal sharper'n I wuz." + +'"You're the hired man here ain't ye?" said the young feller. + +'"No, I ain't," said Rat. "'D rather own up t' bein' a liar than turn that +stun another minnit." + +As soon as he was fairly started with this droll narrative the strain +of the situation was relieved. We were all laughing as much at his +deliberate way of narration as at the story itself. + +Suddenly he turned to Elizabeth Brower and said, very soberly, +'Will you bring me some water in a glass?' + +Then he opened his chest of medicine, made some powders and +told us how to give them. + +'In a few days I would take him into the big woods for a while,' he +said. 'See how it agrees with him.' + +Then he gathered up his things and mother went with him to the +gig. + +Humour was one of the specifics of Doctor Bigsby. He was always +a poor man. He had a way of lumping his bills, at about so much, +in settlement and probably never kept books. A side of pork paid +for many a long journey. He came to his death riding over the hills +one bitter day not long after the time of which I write, to reach a +patient. + +The haying over, we made ready for our trip into the woods. Uncle +Eb and Tip Taylor, who knew the forest, and myself, were to go +with Gerald to Blueberry Lake. We loaded our wagon with +provisions one evening and made ready to be off at the break of +day. + +Chapter 16 + +I remember how hopefully we started that morning with Elizabeth +Brower and Hope waving their handkerchiefs on the porch and +David near them whittling. They had told us what to do and what +not to do over and over again. I sat with Gerald on blankets that +were spread over a thick mat of hay. The morning air was sweet +with the odour of new hay and the music of the bobolink. Uncle +Eb and Tip Taylor sang merrily as we rode over the hills. + +When we entered the shade of the big forest Uncle Eb got out his +rifle and loaded it. He sat a long time whispering and looking +eagerly for game to right and left. He was still a boy. One could +see evidences of age only in his white hair and beard and wrinkled +brow. He retained the little tufts in front of his ears, and lately had +grown a silver crescent of thin and silky hair that circled his throat +under a bare clhn. Young as I was I had no keener relish for a +holiday than he. At noon we halted beside a brook and unhitched +our horses. Then we caught some fish, built a fire and cooked +them, and brewed our tea. At sunset we halted at Tuley Pond, +looking along its reedy margin, under purple tamaracks, for deer. +There was a great silence, here in the deep of the woods, and Tip +Taylor's axe, while he peeled the bark for our camp, seemed to fill +the wilderness with echoes. It was after dark when the shanty was +covered and we lay on its fragrant mow of balsam and hemlock. +The great logs that we had rolled in front of our shanty were set +afire and shortly supper was cooking. + +Gerald had stood the journey well. Uncle Eb and he stayed in +while Tip and I got our jack ready and went off in quest of a +dugout He said Bill Ellsworth had one hid in a thicket on the south +side of Tuley. We found it after an hour's tramp near by. It needed +a little repairing but we soon made it water worthy, and then took +our seats, he in the stern, with the paddle, and I in the bow with the +gun. Slowly and silently we clove a way through the star-sown +shadows. It was like the hushed and mystic movement of a dream. +We seemed to be above the deep of heaven, the stars below us. +The shadow of the forest in the still water looked like the wall of +some mighty castle with towers and battlements and myriads of +windows lighted for a fete. Once the groan of a nighthawk fell out +of the upper air with a sound like that of a stone striking in water. I +thought little of the deer Tip was after. His only aim in life was the +one he got with a gun barrel. I had forgotten all but the beauty of +the scene. Suddenly Tip roused me by laying his hand to the +gunwale and gently shaking the dugout. In the dark distance, ahead +of us, I could hear the faint tinkle of dripping water. Then I knew a +deer was feeding not far away and that the water was falling from +his muzzle. When I opened my jack we were close upon him. His +eyes gleamed. I shot high above the deer that went splashing +ashore before I had pulled my trigger. After the roar of the gun had +got away, in the distant timber, Tip mentioned a place abhorred of +all men, turned and paddled for the landing. + +'Could 'a killed 'im with a club,' said he snickering. 'Guess he must +a looked putty tall didn't he?' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'Cos ye aimed into the sky,' said hc. 'Mebbe ye thought he was a +bird.' + +'My hand trembled a little,' said I. + +''Minds me of Bill Barber,' he said in a half-whisper, as he worked +his paddle, chuckling with amusement. + +'How's that?' I asked. + +'Nothin' safe but the thing he shoots at,' said he. 'Terrible bad shot. +Kills a cow every time he goes huntin'.' + +Uncle Eb was stirring the fire when we came whispering into +camp, and Gerald lay asleep under the blankets. + +'Willie couldn't hit the broadside of a bam,' said Tip. 'He don't take +to it nat'ral.' + +'Killin' an' book learnin' don't often go together,' said Uncle Eb. + +I turned in by the side of Gerald and Uncle Eb went off with Tip +for another trip in the dugout. The night was chilly but the fire +flooded our shanty with its warm glow. what with the light, and the +boughs under us, and the strangeness of the black forest we got +little sleep. I heard the gun roar late in the night, and when I woke +again Uncle Eb and Tip Taylor were standing over the fire in the +chilly grey of the morning. A dead deer hung on the limb of a tree +near by. They began dressing it while Gerald and I went to the +spring for water, peeled potatoes, and got the pots boiling. After a +hearty breakfast we packed up, and were soon on the road again, +reaching Blueberry Lake before noon. There we hired a boat of the +lonely keeper of the reservoir, found an abandoned camp with an +excellent bark shanty and made ourselves at home. + +That evening in camp was one to be remembered. An Thomas, the +guide who tended the reservoir, came over and sat beside our fire +until bedtime. He had spent years in the wilderness going out for +nothing less important than an annual spree at circus time. He eyed +us over, each in turn, as if he thought us all very rare and +interesting. + +'Many bears here?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'More plenty 'n human bein's,' he answered, puffing lazily at his +pipe with a dead calm in his voice and manner that I have never +seen equalled except in a tropic sea. + +'See 'em often?' I asked. + +He emptied his pipe, striking it on his palin until the bowl rang, +without answering. Then he blew into the stem with great +violence. + +'Three or four 'n a summer, mebbe,' he said at length. + +'Ever git sassy?' Uncle Eb asked. + +He whipped a coal out of the ashes then and lifted it in his fingers +to the bowl of his pipe. + +'Never real sassy,' he said between vigourous puffs. 'One stole a +ham off my pyazz las' summer; Al Fifield brought 't in fer me one +day -smelt good too! I kep' savin' uv it thinlan' I'd enjoy it all the +more when I did hev it. One day I went off cuttin' timber an' stayed +'til mos' night. Comin' home I got t' thinkin' o' thet ham, an' made +up my mind I'd hev some fer supper. The more I thought uv it the +faster I hurried an' when I got hum I was hungrier'n I'd been fer a +year. when I see the ol' bear's tracks an' the empty peg where the +ham had hung I went t' work an, got mad. Then I started after thet +bear. Tracked 'im over yender, up Cat Mountin'.' + +Here Ab paused. He had a way of stopping always at the most +interesting point to puff at his pipe. It looked as if he were getting +up steam for another sentence and these delays had the effect of +'continued in our next'. + +'Kill 'im?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Licked him,' he said. + +'Huh!' we remarked incredulously. + +'Licked 'im,' he repeated chucking. 'Went into his cave with a +sledge stake an' whaled 'im - whaled 'im 'til he run fer his life.' + +Whether it was true or not I have never been sure, even to this day, +but Ab's manner was at once modest and convincing. + +'Should 'a thought he'd 'a rassled with ye,' Uncle Eb remarked. + +'Didn't give 'im time,' said Ab, as he took out his knife and began +slowly to sharpen a stick. + +'Don't never wan' t' rassle with no bear,' he added, 'but hams is too +scurce here 'n the woods t' hev 'em tuk away 'fore ye know the taste +uv 'em. I ain't never been hard on bears. Don't seldom ever set no +traps an' I ain't shot a bear fer mor'n 'n ten year. But they've got t' be +decent. If any bear steals my vittles he's goin' t' git cuffed bard.' + +Ab's tongue had limbered up at last. His pipe was going well and +he seemed to have struck an easy grade. There was a tone of injury +and aggrievement in his talk of the bear's ingratitude. He snailed +over his whittling as we laughed heartily at the droll effect of it all. + +'D'ye ever hear o' the wild man 'at roams 'round'n these woods?' he +asked. + +'Never did,' said Uncle Eb. + +'I've seen 'im more times 'n ye could shake a stick at,' said Ab +crossing his legs comfortably and spitting into the fire. 'Kind o' +thank he's the same man folks tells uv down 'n Paradise Valley +there - 'at goes 'round 'n the clearin' after bedtime.' + +'The night man!' I exclaimed. + +'Guess thet's what they call 'im,' said Ab. 'Curus man! Sometimes +I've hed a good squint at 'im off 'n the woods. He's wilder 'n a deer +an' I've seen 'im jump over logs, half as high as this shanty, jest as +easy as ye 'd hop a twig. Tried t' foller 'im once er twice but tain' no +use. He's quicker 'n a wil' cat.' + +'What kind of a lookin' manis he?' Tip Taylor asked. + +'Great, big, broad-shouldered feller,' said Ab. 'Six feet tall if he's an +inch. Hed a kind of a deerskin jacket on when I seen 'im an' +breeches an' moccasins made o' some kind o' hide. I recollec' one +day I was over on the ridge two mile er more from the Stillwater +goin' south. I seen 'im gittin' a drink at the spring there 'n the burnt +timber. An' if I ain't mistaken there was a real live panther playin' +'round 'im. If 't wa'n't a panther 'twas pesky nigh it I can'tell ye. The +critter see me fast an' drew up 'is back. Then the man got up +quickerin' a flash. Soon 'she see me -Jeemimey! didn't they move. +Never see no human critter run as he did! A big tree hed fell 'cross +a lot o' bush right 'n his path. I'll be gol dummed if 'twan't higher 'n +my head! But he cleared it - jest as easy as a grasshopper'd go over +a straw. I'd like t' know wher he comes from, gol dummed if I +wouldn't. He's the consamdest queerest animal 'n these woods.' + +Ab emphasised this lucid view of the night man by an animated +movement of his fist that held the big hunting knife with which he +whittled. Then he emptied his pipe and began cutting more +tobacco. + +'Some says 'e 's a ghost,' said Tip Taylor, splitting his sentence with +a yawn, as he lay on a buffalo robe in the shanty. + +'Shucks an' shoestrings!' said An, 'he looks too nat'ral. Don't believe +no ghost ever wore whiskers an' long hair like his'n. Thet don't hol' +t' reason.' + +This remark was followed by dead silence. Tip seemed to lack +both courage and information with which to prolong the argument. + +Gerald had long been asleep and we were all worn out with uphill +travelling and the lack of rest. Uncle Eb went out to look after the +horses that were tethered near us. Ab rose, looked up through the +tree-tops, ventured a guess about the weather, and strode off into +the darkness. + +We were five days in camp, hunting, fishing, fighting files and +picking blueberries. Gerald's cough had not improved at all - it +was, if anything, a bit worse than it had been and the worry of that +had clouded our holiday. We were not in high spirits when, finally +we decided to break camp the next afternoon. + +The morning of our fourth day at Blueberry Uncle Eb and I crossed +the lake, at daylight, to fish awhile in Soda Brook and gather +orchids then abundant and beautiful in that part of the woods. We +headed for camp at noon and were well away from shore when a +wild yell rang in the dead timber that choked the wide inlet behind +us. I was rowing and stopped the oars while we both looked back +at the naked trees, belly deep in the water. + +But for the dry limbs, here and there, they would have looked like +masts of sunken ships. In a moment another wild whoop came +rushing over the water. Thinking it might be somebody in trouble +we worked about and pulled for the mouth of the inlet. Suddenly I +saw a boat coming in the dead timber. There were three men in it, +two of whom were paddling. They yelled like mad men as they +caught sight of us, and one of them waved a bottle in the air. + +'They're Indians,' said Uncle Eb. 'Drunk as lords. Guess we'd better +git out o' the way.' + +I put about and with a hearty pull made for the other side of the +lake, three miles away. The Indians came after us, their yells +echoing in the far forest. Suddenly one of them lifted his rifle, as if +taking aim at us, and, bang it went the ball ricocheting across our +bows. + +'Crazy drunk,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they're in fer trouble. Pull with all +yer might' + +I did that same putting my arms so stiffly to their task I feared the +oars would break + +In a moment another ball came splintering the gunwales right +between us, but fortunately, wcll above the water line. Being half a +mile from shore I saw we were in great peril. Uncle Eb reached for +his rifle, his hand trembling. + +'Sink 'em,' I shouted, 'an' do it quick or they'll sink us.' + +My old companion took careful aim and his ball hit them right on +the starboard bow below the water line. A splash told where it had +landed. They stopped yelling. The man in the bow clapped his hat +against the side of the boat. + +'Guess we've gin 'em a little business t' ten' to,' said Uncle Eb as he +made haste to load his rifle. + +The Indian at the bow was lifting his rifle again. He seemed to reel +as he took aim. He was very slow about it. I kept pulling as I +watched him. I saw that their boat was slowly sInking. I had a +strange fear that he would hit me in the stomach. I dodged when I +saw the flash of his rifle. His ball struck the water, ten feet away +from us, and threw a spray into my face. + +Uncle Eb had lifted his rifle to shoot again. Suddenly the Indian, +who had shot at us, went overboard. In a second they were all in +the water, their boat bottom up. + +'Now take yer time,' said Uncle Eb coolly, a frown upon his face. + +'They'll drown,' said I. + +'Don't care if they do, consam 'em,' he answered. 'They're some o' +them St Regis devils, an' when they git whisky in 'em they'd jes' +soon kill ye as look at ye. They am' no better 'n rats.' + +We kept on our way and by and by a wind came up that gave us +both some comfort, for we knew it would soon blow them ashore. +Ab Thomas had come to our camp and sat with Tip and Gerald +when we got there. We told of our adventure and then Ab gave us +a bad turn, and a proper appreciation of our luck, by telling us that +they were a gang of cut-throats - the worst in the wilderness. + +'They'd a robbed ye sure,' he said. 'It's the same gang 'at killed a +man on Cat Mountain las' summer, an' I'll bet a dollar on it.' + +Tip had everything ready for our journey home. Each day Gerald +had grown paler and thinner. As we wrapped him in a shawl and +tenderly helped him into the wagon I read his doom in his face. +We saw so much of that kind of thing in our stern climate we knew +what it meant. Our fun was over. We sat in silence, speeding down +the long hills in the fading light of the afternoon. Those few +solemn hours in which I heard oniy the wagon's rumble and the +sweet calls of the whip-poor-will-waves of music on a sea of +silence-started me in a way of thought which has led me high and +low these many years and still invites me. The day was near its end +when we got to the first big clearing. From the top of a high hill we +could see above the far forest, the red rim of the setting sun, big +with winding from the skein of day, that was now flying off the +tree-tops in the west. + +We stopped to feed the horses and to take a bite of jerked venison, +wrapped ourselves warmer, for it was now dunk and chilly, and +went on again. The road went mostly downhill, going out of the +woods, and we could make good time. It was near midnight when +we drove in at our gate. There was a light in the sitting-room and +Uncle Eb and I went in with Gerald at once. Elizabeth Brower +knelt at the feet of her son, unbuttoned his coat and took off his +muffler. Then she put her arms about his neck while neither spoke +nor uttered any sound. Both mother and son felt and understood +and were silent. The ancient law of God, that rends asunder and +makes havoc of our plans, bore heavy on them in that moment, I +have no doubt, but neither murmured. Uncle Eb began to pump +vigorously at the cistern while David fussed with the fire. We were +all quaking inwardly but neither betrayed a sign of it. It is a way +the Puritan has of suffering. His emotions are like the deep +undercurrents of the sea. + +Chapter 17 + +If I were writing a novel merely I should try to fill it with +merriment and good cheer. I should thrust no sorrow upon the +reader save that he might feel for having wasted his time. We have +small need of manufactured sorrow when, truly, there is so much +of the real thing on every side of us. But this book is nothing more +nor less than a history, and by the same token it cannot be all as I +would have wished it. In October following the events of the last +chapter, Gerald died of consumption, having borne a lingering +illness with great fortitude. I, who had come there a homeless +orphan in a basket, and who, with the God-given eloquence of +childhood had brought them to take me to their hearts and the old +man that was with me as well, was now the only son left to +Elizabeth and David Brower. There were those who called it folly +at the time they took us in, I have heard, but he who shall read this +history to the end shall see how that kind of folly may profit one or +even many here in this hard world. + +It was a gloomy summer for all of us. The industry and patience +with which Hope bore her trial, night and day, is the sweetest +recollection of my youth. It brought to her young face a tender +soberness of womanhood - a subtle change of expression that +made her all the more dear to me. Every day, rain or shine, the old +doctor had come to visit his patient, sometimes sitting an hour and +gazing thoughtfully in his face, occasionally asking a question, or +telling a quaint anecdote. And then came the end. + +The sky was cold and grey in the late autumn and the leaves were +drifted deep in the edge of the woodlands when Hope and I went +away to school together at HilIsborough. Uncle Eb drove us to our +boarding place in town. when we bade him goodbye and saw him +driving away, alone in the wagon, we hardly dared look at each +other for the tears in our eyes. + +David Brower had taken board for us at the house of one Solomon +Rollin - universally known as 'Cooky' Rollin; that was one of the +first things I learned at the Academy. It seemed that many years +ago he had taken his girl to a dance and offered her, in lieu of +supper, cookies that he had thoughtfully brought with him. Thus +cheaply he had come to life-long distinction. + +'You know Rollin's Ancient History, don't you?' the young man +asked who sat with me at school that first day. + +'Have it at home,' I answered, 'It's in five volumes.' + +'I mean the history of Sol Rollin, the man you are boarding with,' +said he smiling at me and then he told the story of the cookies. + +The principal of the HilIsborough Academy was a big, brawny +bachelor of Scotch descent, with a stem face and cold, grey, +glaring eyes. when he stood towering above us on his platform in +the main room of the building where I sat, there was an alertness in +his figure, and a look of responsibility in his face, that reminded +me of the pictures of Napoleon at Waterloo. He always carried a +stout ruler that had blistered a shank of every mischievous boy in +school. As he stood by the line, that came marching into prayers +every morning he would frequently pull out a boy, administer a +loud whack or two, shake him violently and force him into a seat. +The day I began my studies at the Academy I saw him put two +dents in the wall with the heels of a young man who had failed in +his algebra. To a bashful and sensitive youth, just out of a country +home, the sight of such violence was appalling. My first talk with +him, however, renewed my courage. He had heard I was a good +scholar and talked with me in a friendly way about my plans. Both +Hope and I were under him in algebra and Latin. I well remember +my first error in his class. I had misconstrued a Latin sentence. He +looked at me, a smile and a sneer crowding each other for +possession of his face. In a loud, jeering tone he cried: 'Mirabile +dictu!' + +I looked at him in doubt of his meaning. + +'Mirabile dictu!' he shouted, his tongue trilling the r. + +I corrected my error. + +'Perfect!' he cried again. 'Puer pulchre! Next!' + +He never went further than that with me in the way of correction. +My size and my skill as a wrestler, that shortly ensured for me the +respect of the boys, helped me to win the esteem of the master. I +leamed my lessons and kept out of mischief. But others of equal +proficiency were not so fortunate. He was apt to be hard on a light +man who could be handled without over-exertion. + +Uncle Eb came in to see me one day and sat awhile with me in my +seat. While he was there the master took a boy by the collar and +almost literally wiped the blackboard with him. There was a great +clatter of heels for a moment. Uncle Eb went away shortly and was +at Sol Rollin's when I came to dinner. + +'Powerful man ain't he?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Rather,' I said. + +'Turned that boy into a reg'lar horse fiddle,' he remarked. 'Must 'ave +unsot his reason.' + +'Unnecessary!' I said. + +'Reminded me o' the time 'at Tip Taylor got his tooth pulled,' said +he. 'Shook 'im up so 'at he thought he'd had his neck put out o' ji'nt.' + +Sol Rollin was one of my studies that winter. He was a carpenter +by trade and his oddities were new and delightful. He whistled as +he worked, he whistled as he read, he whistled right merrily as he +walked up and down the streets - a short, slight figure with a round +boyish face and a fringe of iron-grey hair under his chin. The little +man had one big passion - that for getting and saving. The ancient +thrift of his race had pinched him small and narrow as a foot is +stunted by a tight shoe. His mind was a bit out of register as we say +in the printing business. His vocabulary was rich and vivid and +stimulating. + +'Somebody broke into the arsenic today,' he announced, one +evening, at the supper table. + +'The arsenic,' said somebody, 'what arsenic?' + +'Why the place where they keep the powder,' he answered. + +'Oh! the arsenal.' + +'Yes, the arsenal,' he said, cackling with laughter at his error. Then +he grew serious. + +'Stole all the ambition out of it,' he added. + +'You mean ammunition, don't you, Solomon?' his wife enquired. + +'Certainly,' said he, 'wasn't that what I said.' + +When he had said a thing that met his own approval Sol Rollin +would cackle most cheerfully and then crack a knuckle by twisting +a finger. His laugh was mostly out of register also. It had a sad lack +of relevancy. He laughed on principle rather than provocation. +Some sort of secret comedy of which the world knew nothing, was +passing in his mind; it seemed to have its exits and its entrances, +its villain, its clown and its miser who got all the applause. + +While working his joy was unconfined. Many a time I have sat and +watched him in his little shop, its window dim with cobwebs. +Sometimes he would stop whistling and cackle heartily as he +worked his plane or drew his pencil to the square. I have even seen +him drop his tools and give his undivided attention to laughter. He +did not like to be interrupted - he loved his own company the best +while he was 'doin' business'. I went one day when he was singing +the two lines and their quaint chorus which was all he ever sang in +my hearing; which gave him great relief, I have no doubt, when lip +weary with whistling: + +Sez I 'Dan'l Skinner, I thank yer mighty mean +To send me up the river, With a sev'n dollar team' +Lul-ly,ul- ly,diddie ul- ly, diddleul - lydee, Oh, +lul-ly, ul - ly, diddle ul - ly, diddle ul - ly dee. + +'Mr Rollin!' I said. + +Yes siree,' said he, pausing in the midst of his chorus to look up at +me. + +'Where can I get a piece of yellow pine?' + +'See 'n a minute,' he said. Then he continued his sawing and his +song, ' "Says I Dan SItinner, I thank yer mighty mean"- what d' +ye want it fer?' he asked stopping abruptly. + +'Going to make a ruler,' I answered. + +'"T' sen' me up the river with a seven dollar team,',' he went on, +picking out a piece of smooth planed lumber, and handing it to me. + +'How much is it worth?' I enquired. + +He whistled a moment as he surveyed it carefully. + +''Bout one cent,' he answered seriously. + +I handed him the money and sat down awhile to watch him as he +went on with his work. It was the cheapest amusement I have yet +enjoyed. Indeed Sol Rollin became a dissipation, a subtle and +seductive habit that grew upon me and on one pretext or another I +went every Saturday to the shop if I had not gone home. + +'What ye goin' t' be?' + +He stopped his saw, and looked at me, waiting for my answer. + +At last the tirne had come when I must declare myself and I did. + +'A journalist,' I replied. + +'What's that?' he enquired curiously. + +'An editor,' I said. + +'A printer man?' + +'A printer man.' + +'Huh!' said he. 'Mebbe I'll give ye a job. Sairey tol' me I'd orter t' +'ave some cards printed. I'll want good plain print: Solomon Rollin, +Cappenter 'n J'iner, lilillsborough, NY - soun's putty good don't it.' + +'Beautiful,' I answered. + +'I'll git a big lot on 'em,' he said. 'I'll want one for Sister Susan 'at's +out in Minnesoty - no, I guess I'll send 'er tew, so she can give one +away - an' one fer my brother, Eliphalet, an' one apiece fer my +three cousins over 'n Vermont, an' one fer my Aunt Mirandy. Le's +see-tew an' one is three an' three is six an' one is seven. Then I'll git +a few struck off fer the folks here - guess they'll thank I'm gittin' up +'n the world.' + +He shook and snickered with anticipation of the glory of it. Pure +vanity inspired him in the matter and it had in it no vulgar +consideration of business policy. He whistled a lively tune as he +bent to his work again. + +'Yer sister says ye're a splendid scholar!' said he. 'Hear'n 'er braggin' +'bout ye t'other night; she thinks a good deal o' her brother, I can +tell ye. Guess I know what she's gain' t' give ye Crissmus.' + +'What's that?' I asked, with a curiosity more youthll than becoming. + +'Don't ye never let on,' said he. + +'Never,' said I. + +'Hear'n 'em tell,' he said,' 'twas a gol' lockup, with 'er pictur' in it' + +'Oh, a locket!' I exclaimed. + +'That's it,' he replied, 'an' pure gol', too.' + +I turned to go. + +'Hope she'll grow up a savin' woman,' he remarked. ''Fraid she +won't never be very good t' worlt' + +'Why not?' I enquired. + +'Han's are too little an' white,' he answered. + +'She won't have to,' I said. + +He cackled uproariously for a moment, then grew serious. + +'Her father's rich,' he said, 'the richest man o' Faraway, an I guess +she won't never hev anything t' dew but set'n sing an' play the +melodium.' + +'She can do as she likes,' I said. + +He stood a moment looking down as if meditating on the delights +he had pictured. + +'Gol!' he exclaimed suddenly. + +My subject had begun to study me, and I came away to escape +further examination. + +Chapter 18 + +I ought to say that I have had and shall have to chronicle herein +much that would seem to indicate a mighty conceit of myself. +Unfortunately the little word 'I' throws a big shadow in this history. +It looms up all too frequendy in every page for the sign of a modest +man. But, indeed, I cannot help it, for he was the only observer of +all there is to tell. Now there is much, for example, in the very +marrow of my history - things that never would have happened, +things that never would have been said, but for my fame as a +scholar. My learning was of small account, for, it must be +remembered, I am writing of a time when any degree of +scholarship was counted remarkable among the simple folk of +Faraway. + +Hope took singing lessons and sang in church every Sunday. David +or Uncle Eb came down for us often of a Saturday and brought us +back before service m the morning. One may find in that town +today many who will love to tell him of the voice and beauty and +sweetness of Hope Brower those days, and of what they expected +regarding her and me. We went out a good deal evenings to +concerts, lectures at the churches or the college, or to visit some of +the many people who invited us to their homes. + +We had a recess of two weeks at the winter holidays and David +Brower came after us the day the term ended. O, the great +happiness of that day before Christmas when we came flying home +in the sleigh behind a new team of greys and felt the intoxication +of the frosty air, and drove in at dusk after the lamps were lit and +we could see mother and Uncle Eb and Grandma Bisnette looking +out of the window, and a steaming dinner on the table! I declare! it +is long since then, but I cannot ever think of that time without +wiping my glasses and taking a moment off Tip Taylor took the +horses and we all came in where the kettle was singing on the +stove and loving hands helped us out of our wraps. The supper was +a merry feast, the like of which one may ftnd only by returning to +his boyhood. Mack! that is a long journey for some of us. + +Supper over and the dishes out of the way we gathered about the +stove with cider and butternuts. + +'Well,' said Hope, 'I've got some news to tell you - this boy is the +best scholar of his age in this county.' + +'Thet so?' said David. + +Uncle Eb stopped his hmnmer that was lifted to crack a butternut +and pulled his chair close to Hope's. Elizabeth looked at her +daughter and then at me, a smile and a protest in her face. + +'True as you live,' said Hope. 'The master told me so. He's first in +everything, and in the Town Hall the other night he spelt +everybody down.' + +'What! In HilIsborough?' Uncle Eb asked incredulously. + +'Yes, in Hillsborough,' said Hope, 'and there were doctors and +lawyers and college students and I don't know who all in the +match.' + +'Most reemarkable!' said David Brower. + +'Treemenjious!' exclaimed Uncle Eb. + +'I heard about it over at the mllls t'day,' said Tip Taylor. + +'Merd Dieu!' exclaimed Grandma Bisnette, crossing herself. + +Elizabeth Brower was unable to stem this tide of enthusiasm. I had +tried to stop it, but, instantly, it had gone beyond my control. If I +could be hurt by praise the mischief had been done. + +'It's very nice, indeed,' said she soberly. 'I do hope it won't make +him conceited. He should remember that people do not always +mean what they say.' + +'He's too sensible for that, mother,' said David. + +'Shucks!' said Uncle Eb, 'he ain' no fool if he is a good speller - not +by a dum sight!' + +'Tip,' said David, 'you'll find a box in the sleigh 'at come by +express. I wish ye'd go'n git it.' + +We all stood looking while Tip brought it in and pried off the top +boards with a hatchet. + +'Careful, now!' Uncle Eb cautioned him. 'Might spile sumthin'.' + +The top off, Uncle Eb removed a layer of pasteboard. Then he +pulled out a lot of coloured tissue paper, and under that was a +package, wrapped and tied. Something was written on it. He held it +up and tried to read the writing. + +'Can't see without my spectacles,' he said, handing it to me. + +'For Hope,' I read, as I passed it to her. + +'Hooray!' said Uncle Eb, as he lifted another, and the last package, +from the box. + +'For Mrs Brower,' were the words I read upon that one. + +The strings were cut, the wrappers torn away, and two big rolls of +shiny silk loosened their coils on the table. Hope uttered a cry of +delight. A murmur of surprise and admiration passed from one to +another. Elizabeth lifted a rustling fold and held it to the lamplight +We passed our hands over the smooth sheen of the silk. + +'Wall, I swan!' said Uncle Eb. 'Jes' like a kitten's ear!' + +'Eggzac'ly!' said David Brower. + +Elizabeth lifted the silk and let it flow to her feet Then for a little +she looked down, draping it to her skirt and moving her foot to +make the silk rustle. For the moment she was young again. + +'David,' she said, still looking at the glory of glossy black that +covered her plain dress. + +'Well, mother,' he answered. + +'Was you fool enough t' go'n buy this stuff fer me?' + +'No, mother - it come from New York City,' he said. + +'From New York City?' was the exclamation of all. + +Elizabeth Brower looked thoughtfullyy at her husband. + +'Clear from New York City?' she repeated. + +'From New York City,' said he. + +'Wall, of all things!' said Uncle Eb, looking over his spectacles +from one to another. + +'It's from the Livingstone boy,' said Mrs Brower. 'I've heard he's the +son of a rich man.' + +''Fraid he took a great fancy t' Hope,' said David. + +'Father,' said the girl, you've no right to say that. I'm sure he never +cared a straw for me.' + +'I don't think we ought to keep it,' said Mrs Brower, looking up +thoughtfullyy. + +'Shucks and shavin's!' said Uncle Eb. 'Ye don't know but what I had +it sent myself.' + +Hope went over and put her arms around his neck. + +'Did you, Uncle Eb?' she asked. 'Now you tell me the truth, Unde +Eb.' + +'Wouldn't say 't I did,' he answered, 'but I don' want 'a see ye go +sendin' uv it back. Ye dunno who sent it.' + +'What'll I do with it?' Mrs Brower asked, laughing in a way that +showed a sense of absurdity. 'I'd a been tickled with it thirty years +ago, but now-folks 'ud think I was crazy.' + +'Never heard such fol de rol,' said Uncle Eb. 'If ye move t' the +village it'll come handy t' go t' meetin'in.' + +That seemed to be unanswerable and conclusive, at least for the +time being, and the silk was laid away. We sat talking until late +bedtime, Hope and I, telling of our studies and of the many people +we had met in HilIsborough. + +We hung up our stockings just as we had always done Christmas +Eve, and were up betimes in the morning to find them filled with +many simple but delightful things, and one which I treasure to this +day - the locket and its picrure of which I had been surreptitiously +informed. + +At two o'clock we had a fine dinner of roast turkey and chicken +pie, with plenty of good cider, and the mince pie, of blessed +memory, such as only a daughter of New England may dare try to +make. + +Uncle Eb went upstairs after dinner and presently we heard him +descending with a slow and heavy foot I opened the stair door and +there he stood with the old bass viol that had long lain neglected in +a dusty corner of the attic. Many a night I had heard it groan as the +strings loosened, in the years it had lain on its hack, helpless and +forgotten. It was like a dreamer, snoring in his sleep, and +murmuring of that he saw in his dreams. Uncle Eb had dusted and +strung it and glued its weaker joints. He sat down with it' the +severe look of old upon his face, and set the strings roaring as he +tuned them. Then he brought the sacred treasure to me and leaned +it against my shoulder. + +'There that's a Crissmus present fer ye, Willie,' said he. 'It may help +ye t' pass away the time once in a while.' + +I thanked him warmly. + +''S a reel firs'-class instrument,' he said. 'Been a rip snorter 'n its +day.' He took from his bosom then the old heart pin of silver that +he had always worn of a Sunday. + +'Goin' t' give ye thet, too,' he said. 'Dunno's ye'll ever care to wear +it, but I want ye should hev sumthin' ye can carry'n yer pocket t' +remember me by.' + +I did not dare trust myself to speak, and I sat helplessly turning that +relic of a better day in my fingers. + +'It's genuwine silver,' said he proudly. + +I took his old hand in mine and raised it reverently to my lips. + +'Hear'n 'em tell 'bout goin' t' the village, an' I says t' myself, "Uncle +Eb," says I, "we'll hev t' be goin'. 'Tain' no place fer you in the +village."' + +'Holden,' said David Brower, 'don't ye never talk like that ag'in. Yer +just the same as married t' this family, an' ye can't ever git away +from us.' + +And he never did until his help was needed in other and fairer +fields, I am sure, than those of Faraway - God knows where. + +Chapter 19 + +Tip Taylor was, in the main, a serious-minded man. A cross eye +enhanced the natural solemnity of his countenance. He was little +given to talk or laughter unless he were on a hunt, and then he only +whispered his joy. He had seen a good bit of the world through the +peek sight of his rifle, and there was something always in the feel +of a gun that lifted him to higher moods. And yet one could reach a +tender spot in him without the aid of a gun. That winter vacation I +set myself to study things for declamation - specimens of the +eloquence of Daniel Webster and Henry Clay and James Otis and +Patrick Henry. I practiced them in the barn, often, in sight and +hearing of the assembled herd and some of those fiery passages +were rather too loud and threatening for the peace and comfort of +my audience. The oxen seemed always to be expecting the sting of +the bull whip; they stared at me timidly, tilting their ears every +moment, as if to empty them of a heavy load; while the horses +snorted with apprehension. This haranguing of the herd had been +going on a week or more when Uncle Eb and I, returning from a +distant part of the farm, heard a great uproar m the stable. Looking +in at a window we saw Tip Taylor, his back toward us, +extemporising a speech. He was pressing his argument with +gestures and the tone of thunder. We listened a moment, while a +worried look came over the face of Uncle Eb. Tip's words were +meaningless save for the secret aspiration they served to advertise. +My old companion thought Tip had gone crary, and immediately +swung the door and stepped in. The orator fell suddenly from his +lofry altitude and became a very sober looking hired man. + +'What's the matter?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Practicin',' said Tip soberly, as he turned slowly, his face damp +and red with exertion. + +'Fer what?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Fer the 'sylum, I guess,' he answered, with a faint smile. + +'Ye don' need no more practice,' Uncle Eb answered. 'Looks t' me +as though ye was purty well prepared.' + +To me there was a touch of pathos in this show of the deeper +things m Tip's nature that had been kindled to eruption by my +spouting. He would not come in to dinner that day, probably from +an unfounded fear that we would make fun of his flight - a thing +we should have been far from doing once we understood him. + +It was a bitter day of one of the coldest winters we had ever +known. A shrieking wind came over the hills, driving a scud of +snow before it The stock in the stables, we all came in, soon after +dinner, and sat comfortably by the fire with cider, checkers and old +sledge. The dismal roar of the trees and the wind-wail in the +chinney served only to increase our pleasure. It was growing dusk +when mother, peering through the sheath of frost on a window +pane, uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +'Why! who is this at the door?' said she. 'Why! It's a man in a +cutter.' Father was near the door and he swung it open quickly. +There stood a horse and cutter, a man sitting in it, heavily muffled. +The horse was shivering and the man sat motionless. + +'Hello!' said David Brower in a loud voice. + +He got no answer and ran bareheaded to the sleigh. + +'Come, quick, Holden,' he called, 'it's Doctor Bigsby.' + +We all ran out then, while David lifted the still figure in his arms. + +'In here, quick!' said Elizabeth, opening the door to the parlour. +'Musn't take 'im near the stove.' + +We carried him into the cold room and laid him down, and David +and I tore his wraps open while the others ran quickly after snow. + +I rubbed it vigorously upon his iace and ears, the others meantime +applying it to his feet and arms, that had been quickly stripped. +The doctor stared at us curiously and tried to speak. + +'Get ap, Dobbin!' he called presently, and ducked as if urging his +horse. 'Get ap, Dobbin! Man'll die 'fore ever we git there.' + +We all worked upon him with might and main. The white went +slowly out of his face. We lifted him to a sitting posture. Mother +and Hope and Uncle Eb were rubbing his hands and feet. + +'Where am I?' he enquired, his face now badly swollen. + +'At David Brower's,' said I. + +'Huh?' he asked, with that kindiy and familiar grunt of +interrogation. + +'At David Brower's,' I repeated. + +'Well, I'll have t' hurry,' said he, trying feebly to rise. 'Man's dyin' +over - ' he hesitated thoughtfully, 'on the Plains,' he added, looking +around at us. + +Grandma Bisnette brought a lamp and held itso the light frll on his +face. He looked from one to another. He drew one of his hands +away and stared at it. + +'Somebody froze?' he asked. + +'Yes,' said I. + +'Hm! Too bad. How'd it happen?' he asked. 'I don't know.' + +'How's the pulse?' he enquired, feeling for my.wrist. + +I let him hold it in his hand. + +'Will you bring me some water in a glass?' he enquired, turning to +Mrs Brower, just as I had seen him do many a time in Gerald's +illness. Before she came with the water his head fell forward upon +his breast, while he muttered feebly. I thought then he was dead, +but presently he roused himself with a mighty effort. + +'David Brower!' he called loudly, and trying hard to rise, 'bring the +horse! bring the horse! Mus' be goin', I tell ye. Man's dyin' over - on +the Plains.' + +He went limp as a rag then. I could feel his heart leap and struggle +feebly. + +'There's a man dyin' here,' said David Brower, in a low tone. 'Ye +needn't rub no more. + +'He's dead,' Elizabeth whispered, holding his hand tenderly, and +looking into his half-closed eyes. Then for a moment she covered +her own with her handkerchief, while David, in a low, calm tone, +that showed the depth of his feeling, told us what to do. + +Uncle Eb and I watched that night, while Tip Taylor drove away to +town. The body lay in the parlour and we sat by the stove in the +room adjoining. In a half-whisper we talked of the sad event of the +day. + +'Never oughter gone out a day like this,' said Uncle Eb. 'Don' take +much t' freeze an ol' man.' + +'Got to thinking of what happened yesterday and forgot the cold,' I +said. + +'Bad day t' be absent-minded,' whispered Uncle Eb, as he rose and +tiptoed to the window and peered through the frosty panes. 'May o' +got faint er sumthin'. Ol' hoss brought 'im right here - been here s' +often with 'in'.' + +He took the lantern and went out a moment. The door creaked +upon its frosty hinges when he opened it. + +'Thirty below zero,' he whispered as he came in. 'Win's gone down +a leetle bit, mebbe.' + +Uncanny noises broke in upon the stliness of the old house. Its +timbers, racked in the mighty grip of the cold, creaked and settled. +Sometimes there came a sbarp, breaking sound, like the crack of +bones. + +'If any man oughter go t' Heaven, he had,' said Uncle Eb, as he +drew on his boots. + +'Think he's in Heaven?' I asked. + +'Hain't a doubt uv it,' said he, as he chewed a moment, preparing +for expectoration. + +'What kind of a place do you think it is?' I asked. + +'Fer one thing,' he said, deliberately, 'nobody'll die there, 'less he'd +ought to; don't believe there's goin' t' be any need o' swearin' er +quarrellin'. To my way o' thinkin' it'll be a good deal like Dave +Brower's flirm - nice, smooth land and no stun on it, an, hills an' +valleys an' white clover aplenty, an' wheat an' corn higher'n a man's +head. No bull thistles, no hard winters, no narrer contracted fools; +no long faces, an' plenty o' work. Folks sayin' "How d'y do" 'stid o' +"goodbye", all the while - comin' 'stid o' gain'. There's goin' t' be +some kind o' ftln there. I ain' no idee what 'tis. Folks like it an' I +kind o' believe 'at when God's gin a thing t', everybody he +thinks purty middlin' well uv it.' + +'Anyhow, it seems a hard thing to die,' I remarked. + +'Seems so,' he said thoughtfully. 'Jes' like ever'thing else - them 'at +knows much about it don' have a great deal t' say. Looks t' me like +this: I cal'ate a man hes on the everidge ten things his heart is sot +on - what is the word I want -?' + +'Treasures?' I suggested. + +'Thet's it,' said he. 'Ev'ry one hes about ten treasures. Some hev +more - some less. Say one's his strength, one's his plan, the rest is +them he loves, an' the more he loves the better 'tis fer him. Wall, +they begin t' go one by one. Some die, some turn agin' him. Fin's it +hard t' keep his allowance. When he's only nine he's lost eggzac'ly +one-tenth uv his dread o' dyin'. Bime bye he counts up - +one-two-three-four-five-an' thet's all ther is left. He figgers it up +carefial. His strength is gone, his plan's a fillure, mebbe, an' this +one's dead an' thet one's dead, an' t'other one better be. Then 's +'bout half-ways with him. If he lives till the ten treasures is all +gone, God gives him one more - thet's death. An' he can swop thet +off an' git back all he's lost. Then he begins t' think it's a purty dum +good thing, after all. Purty good thing, after all,' he repeated, +gaping as he spoke. + +He began nodding shortly, and soon he went asleep in his chair. + +Chapter 20 + +We went back to our work again shortly, the sweetness and the +bitterness of life fresh in our remembrance. When we came back, +'hook an' line', for another vacation, the fields were aglow with +colour, and the roads where Dr Bigsby had felt the sting of death +that winter day were now over drifted with meadow-music and the +smell of clover. I had creditably taken examination for college, +where I was to begin my course in the fall, with a scholarship. +Hope had made remarkable progress in music and was soon going +to Ogdensburg for instruction. + +A year had gone, nearly, since Jed Feary had cautioned me about +falling in love. I had kept enough of my heart about me 'to do +business with', but I had continued to feel an uncomfortable +absence in the region of it. Young men at HilIsborough - many of +whom, I felt sure, had a smarter look than I - had bid stubbornly +for her favour. I wondered, often, it did not turn her head - this +tribute of rustic admiration. But she seemed to be all unconscious +of its cause and went about her work with small conceit of herself. +Many a time they had tried to take her from my arm at the church +door - a good-natured phase of youthful rivalry there in those days +- but she had always said, laughingly, 'No, thank you,' and clung all +the closer to me. Now Jed Feary had no knowledge of the worry it +gave me, or of the penl it suggested. I knew that, if I felt free to tell +him all, he would give me other counsel. I was now seventeen and +she a bit older, and had I not heard of many young men and +women who had been engaged - aye, even married - at that age? +Well, as it happened, a day before she left us, to go to her work in +Ogdensburg, where she was to live with her uncle, I made an end +of delay. I considered carefully what a man ought to say in the +circumstances, and I thought I had near an accurate notion. We +were in the garden - together - the playground of our childhood. + +'Hope, I have a secret to tell you,' I said. + +'A secret,' she exclaimed eagerly. 'I love secrets.' + +'A great secret,' I repeated, as I felt my face burning. + +'Why - it must be something awful!' + +'Not very,' I stammered. Having missed my cue from the +beginning, I was now utterly confused. + +'William!' she exclaimed, 'what is the matter of you.' + +'I - I am in love,' said I, very awkwardiy. + +'Is that all?' she answered, a trace of humour in her tone. 'I thought +it was bad news.' + +I stooped to pick a rose and handed itto her. + +'Well,' she remarked soberly, but smiling a little, as she lifted the +rose to her lips, 'is it anyone I know.' + +I felt it was going badly with me, but caught a sudden inspiration. + +'You have never seen her,' I said. + +If she had suspected the truth I had turned the tables on her, and +now she was guessing. A quick change came into her face, and, for +a moment, it gave me confidence. + +'Is she pretty?' she asked very seriously as she dropped the flower +and looked down crushing it beneath her foot. + +'She is very beautifial - it is you I love, Hope.' + +A flood of colour came into her cheeks then, as she stood a +moment looking down at the flower in silence. + +'I shall keep your secret,' she said tenderly, and hesitating as she +spoke, 'and when you are through college - and you are older - and +I am older - and you love me as you do now - I hope - I shall love +you, too - as - I do now.' + +Her lips were trembling as she gave me that sweet assurance - +dearer to me - far dearer than all else I remember of that golden +time - and tears were coursing down her cheeks. For myself I was +in a worse plight of emotion. I dare say she remembered also the +look of my face in that moment. + +'Do not speak of it again,' she said, as we walked away together on +the shorn sod of the orchard meadow, now sown with apple +blossoms, 'until we are older, and, if you never speak again, I shall +know you - you do not love me any longer.' + +The dinner horn sounded. We turned and walked slowly back + +'Do I look all right?' she asked, turing her face to me and smiling +sweetly. + +'All right,' I said. 'Nobody would know that anyone loved you - +except for your beauty and that one tear track on your cheek.' + +She wiped it away as she laughed. + +'Mother knows anyway,' she said, 'and she has given me good +advice. Wait!' she added, stopping and turning to me. 'Your eyes +are wet!' + +I felt for my handkerchief. + +'Take mine,' she said. + +Elder Whitmarsh was at the house and they were all suring downto +dinner as we came in. + +'Hello!' said Uncle Eb. 'Here's a good-lookin' couple. We've got a +chicken pie an' a Baptis' minister fer dinner an' both good. Take +yer pew nex' t' the minister,' he added as he held the chair for me. + +Then we all bowed our heads and I felt a hearty amen for the +elder's words: + +'O Lord, may all our doing and saying and eating and driniiing of +this day be done, as in Thy sight, for our eternal happiness - and +for Thy glory. Amen.' + +Chapter 2 I + +We have our secrets, but, guard them as we may, it is not long +before others have them also. We do much taling without words. I +once knew a man who did his drinking secretly and his reeling in +public, and thought he was fooling everybody. That shows how +much easier it is for one to fool himself than to fool another. What +is in a man's heart is on his face, and is shortly written all over +him. Therein is a mighty lesson. + +Of all people I ever knew Elizabeth Brower had the surest eye for +looking into one's soul, and I, myself, have some gift of +penetration. I knew shortly that Mrs Brower - wise and prudent +woman that she was - had suspected my love for Hope and her +love for me, and had told her what she ought to say if I spoke of it + +The maturity of judgement in Hope's answer must have been the +result of much thought and counsel, it seemed to me. + +'If you do not speak again I shall know you do not love me any +longer,' she had said. They were brave words that stood for +something very deep in the character of those people - a +self-repression that was sublime, often, in their women. As I said +them to myself, those lonely summer days in Faraway, I saw in +their sweet significance no hint of the bitterness they were to +bring. But God knows I have had my share of pleasure and no +more bitterness than I deserved. + +It was a lonely summer for me. I had letters from Hope - ten of +them - which I still keep and read, often with something of the old +pleasure - girlish letters that told of her work and friends, and gave +me some sweet counsel and much assurance between the lines. + +I travelled in new roads that vacation time. Politics and religion, as +well as love, began to interest me. Slavery was looming into the + +proportion of a great issue, and the stories of cruelty and outrage +on the plantations of the South stirred my young blood and made it +ready for the letting of battle, in God's time. The speeches in the +Senate were read aloud in our sitting-room after supper - the day +the Tnbune came - and all lent a tongue to their discussion. +Jed Feary was with us one evening, I remember, when our talk +turned into long ways, the end of which I have never found to this +day. Elizabeth had been reading of a slave, who, according to the +paper, had been whipped to death. + +'If God knows 'at such things are bein' done, why don't he stop +'em?' David asked. + +'Can't very well,' said Jed Feary. + +'Can, if he's omnipotent,' said David. + +'That's a bad word - a dangerous one,' said the old poet, dropping +his dialect as he spoke. 'It makes God responsible for evil as well +as good. The word carries us beyond our depth. It's too big for our +boots. I'd ruther think He can do what's doable an' know what's +knowable. In the beginning he gave laws to the world an' these +laws are unchangeable, or they are not wise an' perfect. If God +were to change them He would thereby acknowledge their +imperfection. By this law men and races suffer as they struggle +upward. But if the law is unchangeable, can it be changed for a +better cause even than the relief of a whipped slave? In good time. +the law shall punish and relieve. The groans of them that suffer +shall hasten it, but there shall be no change in the law. There can +be no change in the law.' + +'Leetle hard t' tell jest how powerfiil God is,' said Uncle Eb. 'Good +deal like tryin' t' weigh Lake Champlain with a quart pail and a +pair o' steelyards.' + +'If God's laws are unchangeable, what is the use of praying?' I +asked. + +'He can give us the strength to bear, the will to obey him an' light +to guide us,' said the poet. 'I've written out a few lines t' read t' Bill +here 'fore he goes off t' college. They have suanthin' t' say on this +subject. The poem hints at things he'd ought 'o learn purty soon - if +he don't know 'em now.' + +The old poet felt in his pockets as he spoke, and withdrew a folded +sheet of straw-coloured wrapping paper and opened it. I was 'Bill' +-plain 'Bill' - to everybody in that country, where, as you increased +your love of a man, you diminished his name. I had been called +Willie, William and Billy, and finally, when I threw the strong +man of the township in a wrestling match they gave me this fail +token of confidence. I bent over the shoulder of Jed Feary for a +view of the manuscript, closely written witha lead pencil, and +marked with many erasures. + +'Le's hear it,' said David Brower. + +Then I moved the lamp to his elbow and he began reading: + +'A talk with William Brower on the occasion of his going +away to colkge and writ oat in rhyme for him by his friend +Jedediah Feary to be a token of respect. + +The man that loses faith in God, ye'll find out every time, +Has found a faith in his own self that's mighty nigh sublime. +He knows as much as all the saints an' calls religion flighty, +An' in his narrow world assumes the place o' God Almighty. + +But don't expect too much o' God, it wouldn't be quite fair +If fer everything ye wanted ye could only swap a prayer; +I'd pray fer yours an' you fer mine an' Deacon Henry Hospur +He wouldn't hev a thing t' do but lay a-bed an' prosper. + +If all things come so easy, Bill, they'd hev but little worth, +An' someone with a gift O' prayer 'ud mebbe own the earth. +It's the toil ye give t' git a thing - the sweat an' blood an, trouble +We reckon by - an' every tear'll make its value double. + +There's a money O' the soul, my boy, ye'll find in after years, +Its pennies are the sweat drops an' its dollars are the tears; +An' love is the redeemin' gold that measures what they're worth, +An' ye'll git as much in Heaven as ye've given out on earth. + +Fer the record o' yer doin' - I believe the soul is planned +With an automatic register t, tell jest how ye stand, +An' it won't take any cipherin' t' show that fearful day, +If ye've multiplied yer talents well, er thrown 'em all away. + +When yer feet are on the summit, an' the wide horizon clears, +An' ye look back on yer pathway windin' thro' the vale o' tears; +When ye see how much ye've trespassed an' how fur ye've gone +astray, +Ye'll know the way o' Providence ain't apt t' be your way. + +God knows as much as can be known, but I don't think it's true +He knows of all the dangers in the path o' me an' you. +If I shet my eyes an' hurl a stone that kills the King o' Siam, +The chances are that God'll be as much surprised as I am. + +If ye pray with faith believin', why, ye'll certnly receive, +But that God does what's impossible is more than I'll believe. +If it grieves Him when a sparrow falls, it's sure as anything, +He'd hev turned the arrow if He could, that broke the sparrow's +wing. + +Ye can read old Nature's history thet's writ in rocks an' stones, +Ye can see her throbbin' vitals an' her mighty rack o' hones. +But the soul o' her - the livin' God, a little child may know +No lens er rule o' cipherin' can ever hope t' show. + +There's a part o' Cod's creation very handy t' yer view, +Al' the truth o' life is in it an' remember, Bill, it's you. +An' after all yer science ye must look up in yer mind, +An' leam its own astronomy the star o' peace t' find. + +There's good old Aunt Samanthy Jane thet all her journey long +Has led her heart to labour with a reveille of song. +Her folks hev robbed an' left her but her faith in goodness grows, +She hasn't any larnin', but I tell ye Bill, she knows! + +She's hed her share o' troubles; I remember well the day +We took her t' the poorhouse - she was singin' all the way; +Ye needn't be afraid t' come where stormy Jordan flows, +If all the larnin' ye can git has taught ye halfshe knows.' + +I give this crude example of rustic philosophy, not because it has +my endorsement - God knows I have ever felt it far beyond me - +but because it is useful to those who may care to know the man +who wrote it. I give it the poor fame of these pages with keen +regret that my friend is now long passed the praise or blame of this +world. + +Chapter 22 + +The horse played a part of no small importance in that country. He +was the coin of the realin, a medium of exchange, a standard of +value, an exponent of moral character. The man that travelled +without a horse was on his way to the poorhouse. Uncle Eb or +David Brower could tell a good horse by the sound of his +footsteps, and they brought into St Lawrence County the haughty +Morgans from Vermont. There was more pride in their high heads +than in any of the good people. A Northern Yankee who was not +carried away with a fine horse had excellent self-control. Politics +and the steed were the only things that ever woke him to +enthusiasm, and there a man was known as he traded. Uncle Eb +used to say that one ought always to underestimate his horse 'a +leetle fer the sake of a reputation'. + +We needed another horse to help with the haying, and Bob Dean, a +tricky trader, who had heard of it, drove in after supper one +evening, and offered a rangy brown animal at a low figure. We +looked him over, tried him up and down the road, and then David, +with some shrewd suspicion, as I divined later, said I could do as I +pleased. I bought the horse and led him proudly to the stable. Next +morning an Irishman, the extra man for the haying, came in with a +worried look to breakfast. + +'That new horse has a chittern' kind of a coff,' he said. + +'A cough?' said I. + +''Tain't jist a coff, nayther,' he said, 'but a kind of toom!' + +With the last word he obligingly imitated the sound of the cough. +It threw me into perspiration. + +'Sounds bad,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked at me and snickered. + +''Fraid Bill ain't much of a jockey,' said David, smaling. + +'Got a grand appetite - that hoss has,' said Tip Taylor. + +After breakfast Uncle Eb and I hitched him to the light buggy and +touched him up for a short journey down the road. In five minutes +he had begun to heave and whistle. I felt sure one could have heard +him half a mile away. Uncle Eb stopped him and began to laugh. + +'A whistler,' said he, 'sure's yer born. He ain't wuth a bag o' beans. +But don't ye never let on. When ye git licked ye musn't never fin' +fault. If anybody asks ye 'bout him tell 'em he's all ye expected.' + +We stood waiting a moment for the horse to recover himself. A +team was nearing us. + +'There's Bob Dean,' Uncle Eb whispered. 'The durn scalawag! +Don't ye say a word now. + +'Good-mornin'!' said Dean, smiling as he pulled up beside us. + +'Nice pleasant mornin'!' said Uncle Eb, as he cast a glance into the +sky. + +'What ye standin' here for?' Dean asked. + +Uncle Eb expectorated thoughtfullyy. + +'Jest a 1ookin' at the scenery,' said he. 'Purty country, right here! +AIwus liked it.' + +'Nice lookin' hoss ye got there,' said Dean. + +'Grand hoss!' said Uncle Eb, surveymg him proudly. 'Most +reemarkable hoss.' + +'Good stepper, too,' said Dean soberly. + +'Splendid!' said Uncle Eb. 'Can go a mile without ketchin' his +breath.' + +'Thet so?' said Dean. + +'Good deal like Lucy Purvis,' Unde Eb added. 'She can say the hull +mul'plication table an' only breathe once. Ye can learn sumthin' +from a hoss like thet. He's good as a deestric' school - thet hoss is.' + +Yes, sir, thet hoss is all right,' said Dean, as he drove away. + +'Righter'n I expected,' Uncle Eb shouted, and then he covered his +mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter. + +'Skunk!' he said, as we turned the animal and started to walk him +home. 'Don't min' bein' beat, but I don't like t' hev a man rub it in +on me. I'll git even with him mebbe.' + +And he did. It came about in this way. We turned our new +purchase into the pasture, and Uncle Eb and I drove away to +Potsdam for a better nag. We examined all the horses in that part +of the country. At last we chanced upon one that looked like the +whistler, save that he had a white stocking on one hind foot + +'Same age, too,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked into his mouth. + +'Can pass anything on the road,' said his owner. + +'Can he?' said Uncle Eb, who had no taste for slow going. 'Hitch +him up an' le's see what he can do.' + +He carried us faster than we had ever ridden before at a trot, and +coming up behind another team the man pulled out, let the reins +loose on his back, and whistled. If anyone had hit him with a log +chain the horse could not have moved quicker. He took us by the +other team like a flash, on the dead run and three in the buggy. + +'He'll do all right,' said Uncle Eb, and paid for the horse. + +It was long after dark when we started home, leading him behind, +and near midnight when we arrived. + +In the morning I found Uncle Eb in the stable showing him to the +other help. To my surprise the white stocking had disappeared. + +'Didn't jes' like that white stockin',' he said, as I came in. +'Wondered how he'd look without it.' + +They all agreed this horse and the whistler were as much alike as +two peas m appearance. Breakfast over Uncle Eb asked the +Irishman to hitch him up. + +'Come Bill,' said he, 'le's take a ride. Dean'll be comm' 'long bym +bye on his way t' town with that trotter o' his'n. 'Druther like to +meet him.' + +I had only a faint idea of his purpose. He let the horse step along at +top speed going up the road and when we turned about he was +breathing heavily. We jogged him back down the road a mile or so, +and when I saw the blazed face of Dean's mare, in the distance, we +pulled up and shortly stopped him. Dean came along in a moment. + +'Nice mornin'!' said he. + +'Grand!' said Uncle Eb. + +'Lookin' at the lan'scape ag'in?' + +'Yes; I've jes' begun t' see what a putty country this is,' said Uncle +Eb. + +'How's the boss?' + +'Splendid! Gives ye time t' think an' see what yer passin'. Like t' set +'n think once in a while. We don't do enough thinkin' here in this +part o' the country.' + +'Yd orter buy this mare an leam how t' ride fast,' said Dean. + +'Thet one,' said Uncle Eb, sqIii:fltig at the mare, 'why she can't go +fast 'nough.' + +'She can't, hey?' said Dean, bridling with injured pride. 'I don't +think there's anything in this town can head her.' + +'Thunder!' said Uncle Eb, 'I can go by her with this ol' plug easy +'twxt here an' our gate. Ye didn't know what ye was sellin'.' + +'If ye pass her once I'll give her to ye,' said he. + +'Mean it?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Sartin,' said he, a little redder in the face. + +'An' if I don't I'll give ye the whistler,' said Uncle Eb as he turned +about. + +The mare went away, under the whip, before we had fairly started. +She was going a fifty shot but in a moment we were lapping upon +her hind wheel. Dean threw a startled glance over his shoulder. +Then he shouted to the mare. She quickened her pace a little but +we kept our position. Uncle Eb was leaning over the dasher his +white locks flying. He had something up his sleeve, as they say, +and was not yet ready to use it. Then Dean began to shear over to +cut us off- a nasty trick of the low horseman. I saw Uncle Eb +giance at the ditch ahead. I knew what was coining and took a firm +hold of the seat. The ditch was a bit rough, but Uncle Eb had no +lack of courage. He turned the horse's head, let up on the reins and +whistled. I have never felt such a thrill as then. Our horse leaped +into the deep grass running like a wild deer. + +'Hi there! hi there!' Uncle Eb shouted, bouncing in his seat, as we +went over stones and hummocks going like the wind. + +'Go, ye brown devil!' he yelled, his hat flying off as he shook the +reins. + +The mare lost her stride; we flashed by and came up into the road. +Looking back I saw her jumping up and down a long way behind +us and Dean whipping her. Uncle Eb, his hands over the dasher, +had pulled down to a trot Ahead of us we could see our folks - men +and women - at the gate looking down the road at us waving hats +and handkerchieis. They had heard the noise of the battle. Uncle +Eb let up on the reins and looked back snorting with amusement. +In a moment we pulled up at our gate. Dean came along slowly. + +'Thet's a putty good mare,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Yer welcome to her,' said Dean sullenly. + +'Wouldn't hev her,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Why not?' said the trader a look of relief coming over his face. + +'Can't go fast enough for my use,' Uncle Eb answered. 'Ye can jest +hitch her in here awhile an' the first day ye come over with a +hundred dollars ye can hev her 'n the whistler, both on 'em. Thet +whistler's a grand hoss! Can hold his breath longer'n any hoss I +ever knew!' + +The sum named was that we had paid him for the highiy +accomplished animal. Dean had the manhood to pay up then and +there and said he would send for the other horse, which he never +did. + +'Guess he won't bother us any more when we stop t' look at the +scenery,' said Uncle Eb, laughing as Dean drove away. 'Kind o' +resky business buyin' hosses,' he added. 'Got t' jedge the owner as +well as the hoss. If there's anything the matter with his conscience +it'll come out in the hoss somewhere every time. Never knew a +mean man t' own a good hoss. Remember, boy, 's a lame soul thet +drives a limpin' hoss.' + +'No use talkin'; Bill ain' no jedge uv a hoss' said David Brower. +'He'll hev t' hev an education er he'll git t' the poorhouse someday +sartin.' + +'Wall he's a good jedge o' gals anyway,' said Uncle Eb. + +As for myself I was now hopelessly confirmed in my dislike of +farming and I never traded horses again. + +Chapter 23 + +Late in August Uncle Eb and I took our Black Hawk stallion to the +fair in HilIsborough and showed him for a prize. He was fit for the +eye of a king when we had finished grooming him, that morning, +and led him out, rearing in play, his eyes flashing from under his +broad plume, so that all might have a last look at him. His arched +neck and slim barrel glowed like satin as the sunlight fell upon +him. His black mane flew, he shook the ground with his hoofs +playing at the halter's end. He hated a harness and once in it lost +half his conceit. But he was vainest of all things in Faraway when +we drove off with him that morning. + +All roads led to HilIsborough fair time. Up and down the long hills +we went on a stiff jog passing lumber wagons with generations +enough in them to make a respectable genealogy, the old people in +chairs; light wagons that carried young men and their sweethearts, +baclswoodsmen coming out in ancient vehicles upon reeling, +creaking wheels to get food for a year's reflection - all thickening +the haze of the late summer with the dust of the roads. And +Hillsborough itself was black with people. The shouts of excited +men, the neighing of horses, the bellowing of cattle, the wailing of +infants, the howling of vendors, the pressing crowd, had begun to +sow the seed of misery in the minds of those accustomed only to +the peaceflil quietude of the farm. The staring eye, the palpitating +heart, the aching head, were successive stages in the doom of +many. The fair had its floral hall carpeted with sawdust and +redolent of cedar, its dairy house, its mechanics' hall sacred to +fiuming implements, its long sheds ftill of sheep and cattle, its +dining-hall, its temporary booths of rough lumber, its half-mile +track and grandstand. Here voices of beast and vendor mingied in a +chorus of cupidity and distress. In Floral Hall Sol Rollin was on +exhibition. He gave me a cold nod, his lips set for a tune as yet +inaudible. He was surveying sundry examples of rustic art that +hung on the circular railing of the gallery and tryingto preserve a +calm breast. He was looking at Susan Baker's painted cow that +hung near us. + +'Very descriptive,' he said when I pressed him for his notion of it. +'Rod Baker's sister Susan made thet cow. Gits tew dollars an' fifty +cents every fair time - wish I was dewin 's well.' + +'That's one of the most profitable cows in this country,' I said. + +'Looks a good deal like a new breed.' + +'Yes,' he answered soberly, then he set his lips, threw a sweeping +glance into the gallery, and passed on. + +Susan Baker's cow was one of the permanent features of the +county fair, and was indeed a curiosity not less remarkable than +the sacred ox of Mr Bamum. + +Here also I met a group of the pretty girls who had been my +schoolmates. They surrounded me, chattering like magpies. + +'There's going to be a dance at our house tonight,' said one of them, +'and you must come.' + +'I cannot, I must go home,' I said. + +'Of course!' said a red-cheeked saucy miss. 'The stuck-up thing! He +wouldn't go anywhere unless he could have his sister with him.' + +Then they went away laughing. + +I found Ab Thomas at the rifle range. He was whittling as he +considered a challenge from Tip Taylor to shoot a match. He +turned and 'hefted' the rifle, silently, and then he squinted over the +barrel two or three times. + +'Dunno but what I'll try ye once,' he said presently, 'jes t' see.' + +Once started they grew red in their faces and shot themselves +weary in a reckless contest of skiIl and endurance. A great hulking +fellow, half drunk and a bit quarrelsome, came up, presently, and +endeavoured to help Ab hold his rifle. The latter brushed him away +and said nothing for a moment. But every time he tried to take aim +the man jostled him. + +An looked up slowly and calmly, his eyebrows tilted for his aim, +and said, 'Go off I tell ye.' Then he set himself and took aim again. + +'Le'me hold it,' said the man, reaching for the barrel. 'Shoot better +if I do the ainin'.' A laugh greeted this remark. Ab looked up +again. There was a quick start in his great slouching figure. + +'Take yer hand off o' thet,' he said a little louder than before. + +The man, aching for more applause, grew more impertinent Ab +quietly handed the rifle to its owner. Then something happened +suddenly. It was so quickly over I am not quite sure of the order of +business, but anyhow he seized the intruder by the shoulders +flinging him down so heavily it knocked the dust out of the grass. + +'A fight!' somebody shouted and men and boys came runing from +all sides. We were locked in a pushing crowd before I could turn. +The intruder lay stunned a moment. Then he rose, bare headed, his +back covered with dust, pushed his way out and ran. + +Ab turned quietly to the range. + +'Hedn't orter t' come an' try t' dew my aimin',' he said mildly, by +way of protest, 'I won't hev it.' + +Then he enquired about the score and calmly took aim again. The +stallion show came on that afternoon. + +'They can't never beat thet hoss,' Uncle Eb had said to me. + +''Fraid they will,' I answered. 'They're better hitched for one thing.' + +'But they hain't got the ginger in 'em,' said he, 'er the git up 'n git. If +we can show what's in him the Hawk'll beat 'em easy.' + +If we won I was to get the prize but I had small hope of winning. +When I saw one after another prance out, in sparkling silver +harness adorned with rosettes of ribbon - light stepping, beautiful +creatures all of them - I could see nothing but defeat for us. Indeed +I could see we had been too confident. I dreaded the moment when +Uncle Eb should drive down with Black Hawk in a plain leather +harness, drawing a plainer buggy. I had planned to spend the prize +money taking Hope to the harvest ball at Rickard's, and I had +worked hard to put the Hawk in good fettle. I began to feel the +bitterness of failure. + +'Black Hawk! Where is Black Hawk?' said one of the judges +loudly. + +'Owned by David Brower o' Faraway,' said another looking at his +card. + +Where indeed was Uncle Eb? I got up on the fence and looked all +about me anxiously. Then I heard a great cheering up the track. +Somebody was coming down, at a rapid pace, riding a splendid +moving animal, a knee rising to the nose at each powerful stride. +His head and flying mane obscured the rider but I could see the +end of a rope swinging in his hand. There was something familiar +in the easy high stride of the horse. The cheers came on ahead of +him like foam before a breaker. Upon my eyes! it was Black +Hawk, with nothing but a plain rope halter on his head, and Uncle +Eb riding him. + +'G'lang there!' he shouted, swinging the halter stale to the shining +flank. 'G'lang there!' and he went by, like a flash, the tail of Black +Hawk straight out behind him, its end feathering in the wind. It +was a splendid thing to see - that white-haired man, sitting erect on +the flying animal, with only a rope halter in his hand. Every man +about me was yelling. I swung my hat, shouting myself hoarse. +When Uncle Eb came back the Hawk was walking quietly in a +crowd of men and boys eager to feel his silken sides. I crowded +through and held the horse's nose while Uncle Eb got down. + +'Thought I wouldn't put no luther on him,' said Uncle Eb, 'God's +gin' 'im a good 'nuff harness.' + +The judges came and looked him over. + +'Guess he'll win the prize all right,' said one of them. + +And he did. When we came home that evening every horse on the +road thought himself a trotter and went speeding to try his pace +with everything that came up beside him. And many a man of +Faraway, that we passed, sent up a shout of praise for the Black +Hawk. + +But I was thinking of Hope and the dance at Rickard's. I had plenty +of money now and my next letter urged her to come home at once. + +Chapter 24 + +Hope returned for a few days late in August. Invitations were just +issued for the harvest dance at Rickard's. + +'You mus' take 'er,' said Uncle Eb, the day she came. 'She's a purty +dancer as a man ever see. Prance right up an' tell 'er she mus' go. +Don' want 'O let anyone git ahead O' ye.' + +'Of course I will go,' she said in answer to my invitation, 'I +shouldn't think you were a beau worth having if you did not ask +me.' + +The yellow moon was peering over Woody Ledge when we went +away that evening. I knew it was our last pleasure seeking in +Faraway, and the crickets in the stubble filled the silence with a +kind of mourning. + +She looked so fine in her big hat and new gown with its many +dainty accessories of lace and ribbon, adjusted with so much +patting and pulling, that as she sat beside me, I hardly dared touch +her for fear of spoiling something. When she shivered a little and +said it was growing cool I put my arm about her, and, as I drew her +closer to my side, she turned her hat, obligingly, and said it was a +great nuisance. + +I tried to kiss her then, but she put her hand over my mouth and +said, sweetly, that I would spoil everything if I did that + +'I must not let you kiss me, William,' she said, 'not - not for all in +the world. I'm sure you wouldn't have me do what I think is wrong +-would you?' + +There was but one answer to such an appeal, and I made myself as +happy as possible feeling her head upon my shoulder and her soft +hair touching my cheek. As I think of it now the trust she put in me +was something sublime and holy. + +'Then I shall talk about - about our love,' I said, 'I must do +something.' + +'Promised I wouldn't let you,' she said. Then she added after a +moment of silence, 'I'll tell you what you may do - tell me what is +your ideal in a woman - the one you would love best of all. I don't +think that would be wicked - do you?' + +'I think God would forgive that,' I said. 'She must be tall and slim, +with dainty feet and hands, and a pair of big eyes, blue as a violet, +shaded with long dark lashes. And her hair must be wavy and light +with a little tinge of gold in it. And her cheek must have the pink +of the rose and dimples that show in laughter. And her voice - that +must have music in it and the ring of kindness and good-natare. +And her lips - let them show the crimson of her blood and be ready +to give and receive a kiss when I meet her.' + +She sighed and nestled closer to me. + +'If I let you kiss me just once,' she whispered, 'you will not ask me +again - will you?' + +'No, sweetheart, I will not,' I answered. Then we gave each other +such a kiss as may be known once and only once in a lifetime. + +'What would you do for the love of a girl like that?' she whispered. + +I thought a moment, sounding depths of undiscovered woe to see if +there were anything I should hesitate to suffer and there was +nothing. + +'I'd lay me doun an' dee,' I said. + +And I well remember how, when I lay dying, as I believed, in rain +and darkness on the bloody field of Bull Run, I thought of that +moment and of those words. + +'I cannot say such beautiful things as you,' she answered, when I +asked her to describe her ideal. 'He must be good and he must be +tall and handsome and strong and brave.' + +Then she sang a tender love ballad. I have often shared the +pleasure of thousands under the spell of her voice, but I have never +heard her sing as to that small audience on Faraway turnpike. + +As we came near Rickard's Hall we could hear the fiddles and the +calling off. + +The windows on the long sides of the big house were open. Long +shafts of light shot out upon the gloom. It had always reminded me +of a picture of Noah's ark that hung in my bedroom and now it +seemed to be floating, with resting oars of gold, in a deluge of +darkness. We were greeted with a noisy welcome, at the door. +Many of the boys and girls came, from all sides of the big hall, and +shook hands with us. Enos Brown, whose long forelocks had been +oiled for the occasion and combed down so they touched his right +eyebrow, was panting in a jig that jarred the house. His trouser legs +were caught on the tops of his fine boots. He nodded to me as I +came in, snapped his fingers and doubled his energy. It was an +exhibition both of power and endurance. He was damp and +apologetic when, at length, he stopped with a mighty bang of his +foot and sat down beside me. He said he was badly out of practice +when I offered congratulations. The first fiddler was a small man, +with a short leg, and a character that was minus one dimension. It +had length and breadth but no thickness. He sat with his fellow +player on a little platform at one end of the room. He was an odd +man who wandered all over the township with his fiddle. He +played by ear, and I have seen babies smile and old men dance +when his bow was swaying. I remember that when I heard it for the +first time, I determined that I should be a fiddler if I ever grew to +be a man. But David told me that fiddlers were a worthless lot, and +that no wise man should ever fool with a fiddle. One is lucky, I +have since leamed, if any dream of yesterday shall stand the better +light of today or the more searching rays of tomorrow. + +'Choose yer partners fer Money Musk!' the caller shouted. + +Hope and I got into line, the music started, the circles began to +sway. Darwin Powers, an old but frisky man, stood up beside the +fiddlers, whistling, with sobriety and vigour, as they played. It was +a pleasure to see some of the older men of the neighbourhood join +the dizzy riot by skipping playfully in the corners. They tried to +rally their unwilling wives, and generally a number of them were +dancing before the night was over. The life and colour of the +scene, the fresh, young faces of the girls some of them models of +rustic beauty - the playful antics of the young men, the +merrymaking of their fathers, the laughter, the airs of gallantry, the +glances of affection - there is a magic in the thought of it all that +makes me young again. + +There were teams before and behind us when we came home, late +at night, so sleepy that the stars went reeling as we looked at them. + +'This night is the end of many things,' I remarked. + +'And the beginning of better ones, I hope,' was her answer. + +'Yes, but they are so far away,' I said, 'you leave home to study and +I am to be four years in college-possibly I can finish in three.' + +'Perfectly terrible!' she said, and then she added the favourite +phrase and tone of her mother: 'We must be patient.' + +'I am very sorry of one thing,' I said. 'What's that?' + +'I promised not to ask you for one more kiss.' + +'Well then,' said she, 'you - you - needn't ask me.' And in a moment +I helped her out at the door. + +Chapter 25 + +David Brower had prospered, as I have said before, and now he +was chiefly concerned in the welfare of his children. So, that he +might give us the advantages of the town, he decided either to +lease or sell his farm- by far the handsomest property in the +township. I was there when a buyer came, in the last days of that +summer. We took him over the smooth acres from Lone Pine to +Woody Ledge, from the top of Bowman's Hill to Tinkie Brook in +the far valley. He went with us through every tidy room of the +house. He looked over the stock and the stables. + +'Wall! what's it wuth?' he said, at last, as we stood looking down +the fair green acres sloping to the sugar bush. + +David picked up a stick, opened his knife, and began to whittle +thoughtfully, a familiar squint of reflection in his face. I suppose +he thought of all it had cost him - the toil of many years, the +strength of his young manhood, the youth and beauty of his wife, a +hundred things that were far better than money. + +'Fifteen thousan' dollars,' he said slowly - 'not a cent less.' The man +parleyed a little over the price. + +'Don' care t' take any less t'day,' said David calmly. 'No harm done.' + +'How much down?' + +David named the sum. + +'An' possession?' + +'Next week' + +'Everything as it stan's?' + +'Everything as it stan's 'cept the beds an' bedding.' + +'Here's some money on account,' he said. 'We'll close t'morrer?' + +'Close t'morrer,' said David, a little sadness in his tone, as he took +the money. + +It was growing dusk as the man went away. The crickets sang with +a loud, accusing, clamour. Slowly we turned and went into the +dark house, David whistling under his breath. Elizabeth was +resting in her chair. She was humming an old hymn as she rocked. + +'Sold the farm, mother,' said David. + +She stopped singing but made no answer. In the dusk, as we sat +down, I saw her face leaning upon her hand. Over the hills and out +of the fields around us came many voices - the low chant in the +stubble, the baying of a hound in the far timber, the cry of the tree +toad - a tiny drift of odd things (like that one sees at sea) on the +deep eternal silence of the heavens. There was no sound in the +room save the low creaking of the rocker in which Elizabeth sat. +After all the going, and corning, and doing, and saying of many +years here was a little spell of silence and beyond lay the untried +things of the future. For me it was a time of reckoning. + +'Been hard at work here all these years, mother,' said David. +'Oughter be glad t' git away.' + +'Yes,' said she sadly, 'it's been hard work. Years ago I thought I +never could stan' it. But now I've got kind o' used t' it.' + +'Time ye got used t' pleasure 'n comfort,' he said. 'Come kind o' +hard, at fast, but ye mus' try t' stan' it. If we're goin' t' hev sech flin +in Heaven as Deacon Hospur tells on we oughter begin t' practice +er we'll be 'shamed uv ourselves.' + +The worst was over. Elizabeth began to laugh. + +At length a strain of song came out of the distance. + +'Maxwelton's braes are bonnie where early falls the dew.' + +'It's Hope and Uncle Eb,' said David while I went for the lantern. +'Wonder what's kep' 'em s' late.' + +When the lamps were lit the old house seemed suddenly to have +got a sense of what had been done. The familiar creak of the +stairway as I went to bed had an appeal and a protest. The rude +chromo of the voluptuous lady, with red lips and the name of +Spring, that had always hung in my chamber had a mournful, +accusing look. The stain upon her cheek that had come one day +from a little leak in the roof looked now like the path of a tear +drop. And when the wind came up in the night and I heard the +creaking of Lone Pine it spoke of the doom of that house and +itsown that was not far distant. + +We rented a new home in town, that week, and were soon settled +in it. Hope went away to resume her studies the same day I began +work in college. + +Chapter 26 + +Not much in my life at college is essential to this history - save the +training. The students came mostly from other and remote parts of +the north country - some even from other states. Coming largely +from towns and cities they were shorn of those simple and rugged +traits, that distinguished the men o' Faraway, and made them +worthy of what poor fame this book may afford. In the main they +were like other students the world over, I take it' and mostly, as +they have shown, capable of wiling their own fame. It all seemed +very high and mighty and grand to me especially the names of the +courses. I had my baptism of Sophomoric scorn and many a heated +argument over my title to life, liberty and the pursuit of learning. It +became necessary to establish it by force of arms, which I did +decisively and with as little delay as possible. I took much interest +in athletic sports and was soon a good ball player, a boxer of some +skill, and the best wrestler in college. Things were going on +comfortably when an upper classman met me and suggested that +on a corning holiday, the Freshmen ought to wear stove-pipe hats. +Those hats were the seed of great trouble. + +'Stove-pipe hats!' I said thoughtfully. + +'They're a good protection,' he assured me. + +It seemed a very reasonable, not to say a necessary precaution. A +man has to be young and innocent sometime or what would +become of the Devil. I did not see that the stove-pipe hat was the +red rag of insurrection and, when I did see it' I was up to my neck +in the matter. + +You see the Sophs are apt to be very nasty that day,' he continued. + +I acknowledged they were quite capable of it. + +'And they don't care where they hit,' he went on. + +I felt of my head that was still sore, from a forceful argument of +the preceding day, and admitted there was good ground for the +assertion. + +When I met my classmen, that afternoon, I was an advocate of the +'stove-pipe' as a means of protection. There were a number of +husky fellows, in my class, who saw its resisting power and +seconded my suggestion. We decided to leave it to the ladies of the +class and they greeted our plan with applause. So, that morning, +we arrayed ourselves mhigh hats, heavy canes and fine linen, +marching together up College Hill. We had hardly entered the gate +before we saw the Sophs forming in a thick rank outside the door +prepared, as we took it, to resist our entrance. They out-numbered +us and were, in the main, heavier but we had a foot or more of +good stiff material between each head and harm. Of just what +befell us, when we got to the enemy, I have never felt sure. Of the +total inefficiency of the stove-pipe hat as an article of armour, I +have never had the slightest doubt since then. There was a great +flash and rattle of canes. Then the air was full of us. In the heat of +it all prudence went to the winds. We hit out right and left, on both +sides, smashing hats and bruising heads and hands. The canes went +down in a jiffy and then we closed with each other hip and thigh. +Collars were ripped off, coats were torn, shirts were gory from the +blood of noses, and in this condition the most of us were rolling +and tumbling on the ground. I had flung a man, heavily, and broke +away and was tackling another when I heard a hush in the tumult +and then the voice of the president. He stood on the high steps, his +grey head bare, his right hand lifted. It must have looked like +carnage from where he stood. + +'Young gentlemen!' he called. 'Cease, I command you. If we +cannot get along without this thing we will shut up shop.' + +Well, that was the end of it and came near being the end of our +careers in college. We looked at each other, torn and panting and +bloody, and at the girls, who stood by, pale with alarm. Then we +picked up the shapeless hats and went away for repairs. I had heard +that the path of learning was long and beset with peril but I hoped, +not without reason, the worst was over. As I went off the campus +the top of my hat was hanging over my left ear, my collar and +cravat were turned awry, my trousers gaped over one knee. I was +talking with a fellow sufferer and patching the skin on my +knuckles, when suddenly I met Uncle Eb. + +'By the Lord Harry!' he said, looking me over from top to toe, +'teacher up there mus' be purty ha'sh.' + +'It wa'n't the teacher,' I said. + +'Must have fit then.' + +'Fit hard,' I answered, laughing. + +'Try t' walk on ye?' + +'Tried t' walk on me. Took several steps too,' I said stooping to +brush my trousers. + +'Hm! guess he found it ruther bad walkin' didn't he?' my old friend +enquired. 'Leetle bit rough in spots?' + +'Little bit rough, Uncle Eb - that's certain.' + +'Better not go hum,' he said, a great relief in his face. 'Look 's if +ye'd been chopped down an' sawed - an' split - an' throwed in a +pile. I'll go an' bring over some things fer ye.' + +I went with my friend, who had suffered less darnage, and Uncle +Eb brought me what I needed to look more respectable than I felt + +The president, great and good man that he was, forgave us, finally, +after many interviews and such wholesome reproof as made us all +ashamed of our folly. + +In my second year, at college, Hope went away to continue her +studies in New York She was to live in the family of John Fuller, a +friend of David, who had left Faraway years before and made his +fortune there in the big city. Her going filled my days with a +lingering and pervasive sadness. 1 saw in it sometimes the shadow +of a heavier loss than I dared to contemplate. She had come home +once a week from Ogdensburg and I had always had a letter +between times. She was ambitious and, I fancy, they let her go, so +that there should be no danger of any turning aside from the plan +of my life, or of hers; for they knew our hearts as well as we knew +them and possibly better. + +We had the parlour to ourselves the evening before she went away, +and I read her a little love tale I had written especially for that +occasion. It gave us some chance to discuss the absorbing and +forbidden topic of our lives. + +'He's too much afraid of her,' she said, 'he ought to put his arm +about her waist in that love scene.' + +'Like that,' I said, suiting the action to the word. + +'About like that,' she answered, laughing, 'and then he ought to say +something very, very, nice to her before he proposes - something +about his having loved her for so long - you know.' + +'And how about her?' I asked, my arm still about her waist. + +'If she really loves him,' Hope answered, 'she would put her arms +about his neck and lay her head upon his shoulder, so; and then he +might say what is in the story.' She was smiling now as she looked +up at me. + +'And kiss her?' + +'And kiss her,' she whispered; and, let me add, that part of the +scene was in nowise neglected. + +'And when he says: "will you wait for me and keep me always in +your heart?" what should be her answer,' I continued. + +'Always!' she said. + +'Hope, this is our own story,' I whispered. 'Does it need any further +correction?' + +'It's too short - that's all,' she answered, as our lips met again. + +Just then Uncle Eb opened the door, suddenly. + +'Tut tut!' he said tuning quickly about + +'Come in, Uncle Eb,' said Hope, 'come right in, we want to see you. + +In a moment she had caught him by the arm. + +'Don' want 'o break up the meetin',' said he laughing. + +'We don't care if you do know,' said Hope, 'we're not ashamed of it.' + +'Hain't got no cause t' be,' he said. 'Go it while ye're young 'n full 'o +vinegar! That's what I say every time. It's the best fun there is. I +thought I'd like t' hev ye both come up t' my room, fer a minute, +'fore yer mother 'n father come back,' he said in a low tone that was +almost a whisper. + +Then he shut one eye, suggestively, and beckoned with his head, as +we followed him up the stairway to the little room in which he +slept. He knelt by the bed and pulled out the old skin-covered +trunk that David Brower had given him soon after we came. He +felt a moment for the keyhole, his hand trembling, and then I +helped him open the trunk. From under that sacred suit of +broadcloth, worn only on the grandest occasions, he fetched a +bundle about the size of a man's head. It was tied in a big red +handkerchief. We were both sitting on the floor beside him. + +'Heft it,' he whispered. + +I did so and found it heavier than I expected. + +'What is it?' I asked. + +'Spondoolix,' he whispered. + +Then he untied the bundle - a close packed hoard of bankbills with +some pieces of gold and silver at the bottom. + +'Hain't never hed no use fer it,' he said as he drew out a layer of +greenbacks and spread them with trembling fingers. Then he began +counting them slowly and carefully. + +'There!' he whispered, when at length he had counted a hundred +dollars. 'There Hope! take thet an' put it away in yer wallet. Might +come handy when ye're 'way fr'm hum.' + +She kissed him tenderly. + +'Put it 'n yer wallet an' say nothin' - not a word t' nobody,' he said. + +Then he counted over a like amount for me. + +'Say nothin',' he said, looking up at me over his spectacles. 'Ye'll +hev t' spile a suit o' clothes purty often if them fellers keep a +fightin' uv ye all the time.' + +Father and mother were coming in below stairs and, hearing them, +we helped Uncle Eb tie up his bundle and stow it away. Then we +went down to meet them. + +Next morning we bade Hope goodbye at the cars and returned to +our home with a sense of loss that, for long, lay heavy upon us all. + +Chapter 27 + +Uncle Eb and David were away buying cattle, half the week, but +Elizabeth Brower was always at home to look after my comfort. +She was up betimes in the morning and singing at her work long +before I was out of bed. when the breakfast was near ready she +came to my door with a call so fall of cheerfulness and +good-nature it was the best thing in the day. And often, at night, I +have known her to come into my room when I was lying awake +with some hard problem, to see that I was properly covered or that +my window was not open too far. As we sat alone together, of an +evening, I have seen her listen for hours while I was committing +the Odes of Horace with a curiosity that finally gave way to +resignation. Sometimes she would look over my shoulder at the +printed page and try to discern some meaning in it when Uncle Eb +was with us he would often sit a long time his head turned +attentively as the lines came rattling off my tongue. + +'Cur'us talk!' he said, one evening, as I paused a moment, while he +crossed the room for a drink of water. 'Don' seem t' make no kind +O' sense. I can make out a word here 'n there but fer good, sound, +common sense I call it a purtythin crop.' + +Hope wrote me every week for a time. A church choir had offered +her a place soon after she went to the big city. She came home +intending to surprise us all, the first summer but unfortunately, I +had gone away in the woods with a party of surveyors and missed +her. We were a month in the wilderness and came out a little west +of Albany where I took a boat for New York to see Hope. I came +down the North River between the great smoky cities, on either +side of it, one damp and chilly morning. The noise, the crowds, the +immensity of the town appalled me. At John Fuller's I found that +Hope had gone home and while they tried to detain me longer I +came back on the night boat of the same day. Hope and I passed +each other in that journey and I did not see her until the summer +preceding my third and last year in college - the faculty having +allowed me to take two years in one. Her letters had come less +frequently and when she came I saw a grand young lady of fine +manners, her beauty shaping to an ampler mould, her form +straightening to the dignity of womanhood. + +At the depot our hands were cold and trembling with excitement - +neither of us, I fancy, knowing quite how far to go in our greeting. +Our correspondence had been true to the promise made her mother +- there had not been a word of love in it - only now and then a +suggestion of our tender feeling. We hesitated only for the briefest +moment. Then I put my arm about her neck and kissed her. + +'I am so glad to see you,' she said. + +Well, she was charming and beautiful, but different, and probably +not more different than was I. She was no longer the laughing, +simple-mannered child of Faraway, whose heart was as one's hand +before him in the daylight. She had now a bit of the woman's +reserve - her prudence, her skill in hiding the things of the heart. I +loved her more than ever, but somehow I felt it hopeless - that she +had grown out of my life. She was much in request among the +people of Hillsborough, and we went about a good deal and had +many callers. But we had little time to ourselves. She seemed to +avoid that, and had much to say of the grand young men who came +to call on her in the great city. Anyhow it all hurt me to the soul +and even robbed me of my sleep. A better lover than I would have +made an end of dallying and got at the truth, come what might. But +I was of the Puritans, and not of the Cavaliers, and my way was +that which God had marked for me, albeit I must own no man had +ever a keener eye for a lovely woman or more heart to please her. +A mighty pride had come to me and I had rather have thrown my +heart to vultures than see it an unwelcome offering. And I was +quite out of courage with Hope; she, I dare say, was as much out of +patience with me. + +She returned in the late summer and I went back to my work at +college in a hopeless fashion that gave way under the whip of a +strong will. + +I made myself as contented as possible. I knew all the pretty girls +and went about with some of them to the entertainments of the +college season. At last came the long looked for day of my +graduation - the end of my student life. + +The streets of the town were thronged, every student having the +college colours in his coat lapel. The little company of graduates +trembled with fright as the people crowded in to the church, +whispering and faring themselves, in eager anticipation. As the +former looked from the two side pews where they sat, many +familiar faces greeted them - the faces of fathers and mothers +aglow with the inner light of pride and pleasure; the faces of many +they loved come to claim a share in the glory of that day. I found +my own, I remember, but none of them gave me such help as that +of Uncle Eb. However I might fare, none would feel the pride or +disgrace of it more keenly than he. I shall never forget how he +turned his head to catch every word when I ascended the platform. +As I warmed to my argument I could see him nudging the arm of +David, who sat beside him, as if to say, 'There's the boy that came +over the hills with me in a pack basket.' when I stopped a moment, +groping for the next word, he leaned forward, embracing his knee, +firmly, as if intending to draw off a boot. It was all the assistance +he could give me. when the exercises were over I found Uncle Eb +by the front door of the church, waiting for me. + +'Willie, ye done noble!' said he. + +'Did my very best, Uncle Eb,' I replied. + +'Liked it grand - I did, sartin.' 'Glad you liked it, Uncle Eb.' + +'Showed great larnin'. who was the man 'at give out the pictur's?' + +He meant the president who had conferred the degrees. I spoke the +name. + +'Deceivin' lookin' man, ain't he? Seen him often, but never took no +pertick'lar notice of him before.' + +'How deceiving?' I enquired. + +'Talked so kind of plain,' he replied. 'I could understan' him as easy +as though he'd been swappin' hosses. But when you got up, Bill'. +why, you jes' riz right up in the air an, there couldn't no dum fool +tell what you was talkin' 'bout.' + +Whereat I concluded that Uncle Eb's humour was as deep as it was +kindly, but I have never been quite sure whether the remark was a +compliment or a bit of satire. + +Chapter 28 + +The folks of Faraway have been carefully if rudely pictured, but +the look of my own person, since I grew to the stature of manhood, +I have left wholly to the imagination of the reader. I will wager he +knew long since what manner of man I was and has measured me +to the fraction of an inch, and knows even the colour of my hair +and eyes from having been so long in my company. If not - well, I +shall have to write him a letter. + +when Uncle Eb and I took the train for New York that summer day +in 1860, some fifteen years after we came down Paradise Road +with the dog and wagon and pack basket, my head, which, in that +far day, came only to the latitude of his trouser pocket, had now +mounted six inches above his own. That is all I can say here on +that branch of my subject. I was leaving to seek my fortune in the +big city; Uncle Eb was off for a holiday and to see Hope and bring +her home for a short visit. I remember with what sadness I looked +back that morning at mother and father as they stood by the gate +slowly waving their handkerchiefs. Our home at last was emptied +of its young, and even as they looked the shadow of old age must +have fallen suddenly before them. I knew how they would go back +into that lonely room and how, while the clock went on with its +ticking, Elizabeth would sit down and cover her face a moment, +while David would make haste to take up his chores. + +We sat in silence a long time after the train was off, a mighty +sadness holding our tongues. Uncle Eb, who had never ridden a +long journey on the cars before, had put on his grand suit of +broadcloth. The day was hot and dusty, and before we had gone far +he was sadiy soiled. But a suit never gave him any worry, once it +was on. He sat calmly, holding his knee in his hands and looking +out of the open window, a squint in his eyes that stood for some +high degree of interest in the scenery. + +'What do you think of this country?' I enquired. + +'Looks purty fair,' said he, as he brushed his face with his +handkerchief and coughed to clear his throat of the dust, 'but 'tain't +quite so pleasant to the taste as some other parts o' the country. I +ruther liked the flavour of Saint Lawrence all through, but +Jefferson is a leetle gritty.' + +He put down the window as he spoke. + +'A leetle tobaccer'll improve it some,' he added, as his hand went +down for the old silver box. 'The way these cars dew rip along! +Consamed if it ain't like flyin'! Kind o' makes me feel like a bird.' + +The railroad was then not the familiar thing it is now in the north +country. The bull in the fields had not yet come to an +understanding of its rights, and was frequently tempted into +argument with a locomotive. Bill Fountain, who came out of a +back township, one day had even tied his faithful hound to the rear +platform. + +Our train came to a long stop for wood and water near midday, and +then we opened the lunch basket that mother had given us. + +'Neighbour,' said a solemn-faced man, who sat in front of us, 'do +you think the cars are ag'in the Bible? D'you think a Christian orter +ride on 'em?' + +'Sartin,' said Uncle Eb. 'Less the constable's after him - then I think +he orter be on a balky hoss.' + +'Wife'n I hes talked it over a good deal,' said the man. 'Some says +it's ag'in the Bible. The minister 'at preaches over 'n our +neighbourhood says if God hed wanted men t' fly he'd g'in 'em +wings.' + +'S'pose if he'd ever wanted 'm t' skate he'd hed 'em born with skates +on?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Danno,' said the man. 'It behooves us all to be careful. The Bible +says "Go not after new things."' + +'My friend,' said Uncle Eb, between bites of a doughnut, 'I don' +care what I ride in so long as 'tain't a hearse. I want sumthin' at's +comfortable an' purty middlin' spry. It'll do us good up here t' git +jerked a few hunderd miles an' back ev'ry leetle while. Keep our +j'ints limber. We'll live longer fer it, an' thet'll please God sure - +cuz I don't think he's hankerin' fer our society - not a bit. Don' +make no difference t' hirn whuther we ride 'n a spring wagon er on +the cars so long's we're right side up 'n movin'. We need more +steam; we're too dum slow. Kind o' think a leetle more steam in +our religion wouldn't hurt us a bit. It's purty fur behind.' + +We got to Albany in the evening, just in time for the night boat. +Uncle Eb was a sight in his dusty broadcloth, when we got off the +cars, and I know my appearance could not have been +prepossessing. Once we were aboard the boat and had dusted our +clothes and bathed our hands and faces we were in better spirits. + +'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb, as we left the washroom, 'le's have a +dum good supper. I'll stan' treat' + +'Comes a leetle bit high,' he said, as he paid the bill, 'but I don' care +if it does. 'Fore we left I says t' myself, "Uncle Eb," says I, "you go +right in fer a good time an' don' ye count the pennies. Everybody's +a right t' be reckless once in seventy-five year."' + +We went to our stateroom a little after nine. I remember the berths +had not been made up, and removing our boots and coats we lay +down upon the bare mattresses. Even then I had a lurking fear that +we might be violating some rule of steamboat etiquette. when I +went to New York before I had dozed all night in the big cabin. + +A dim light came through the shuttered door that opened upon the +dinning-saloon where the rattle of dishes for a time put away the +possibility of sleep. + +'I'll be awful glad t' see Hope,' said Uncle Eb, as he lay gaping. + +'Guess I'll be happier to see her than she will to see me,' I said. + +'What put that in yer head?' Unde Eb enquired. + +''Fraid we've got pretty far apart,' said I. + +'Shame on ye, Bill,' said the old gentleman. 'If thet's so ye ain't +done right Hedn't orter let a girl like thet git away from ye - th' ain't +another like her in this world.' + +'I know it' I said' 'but I can't help it Somebody's cut me out Uncle +Eb.' + +''Tain't so,' said he emphatically. 'Ye want t' prance right up t' her.' + +'I'm not afraid of any woman,' I said, with a great air of bravery, +'but if she don't care for me I ought not to throw myself at her.' + +'Jerusalem!' said Uncle Eb, rising up suddenly, 'what hev I gone an' +done?' + +He jumped out of his berth quickly and in the dim light I could see +him reaching for several big sheets of paper adhering to the back +of his shirt and trousers. I went quickly to his assistance and began +stripping off the broadsheets which, covered with some strongly +adhesive substance, had laid a firm hold upon him. I rang the bell +and ordered a light. + +'Consam it all! what be they - plasters?' said Uncle Eb, quite out of +patience. + +'Pieces of brown paper, covered with - West India molasses, I +should think,' said I. + +'West Injy molasses!' he exclaimed. 'By mighty! That makes me +hotter'n a pancake. what's it on the bed fer?' + +'To catch flies,' I answered. + +'An' ketched me,' said Uncle Eb, as he flung the sheet he was +examimng into a corner. 'My extry good suit' too!' + +He took off his trousers, then, holding them up to the light. + +'They're sp'ilt,' said he mournfully. 'Hed 'em fer more'n ten year, +too.' + +'That's long enough,' I suggested. + +'Got kind o' 'tached to 'em,' he said, looking down at them and +rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Then we had a good laugh. + +'You can put on the other suit,' I suggested, 'and when we get to the +city we'll have these fixed.' + +'Leetle sorry, though,' said he, 'cuz that other suit don' look reel +grand. This here one has been purty - purty scrumptious in its day - +if I do say it.' + +'You look good enough in anything that's respectable,' I said. + +'Kind o' wanted to look a leetle extry good, as ye might say,' said +Uncle Eb, groping in his big carpet-bag. 'Hope, she's terrible proud, +an' if they should hev a leetle fiddlin' an' dancin' some night we'd +want t' be as stylish as any on em. B'lieve I'll go'n git me a spang, +bran' new suit, anyway, 'fore we go up t' Fuller's.' + +As we neared the city we both began feeling a bit doubtful as to +whether we were quite ready for the ordeal. + +'I ought to,' I said. 'Those I'm wearing aren't quite stylish enough, +I'm afraid.' + +'They're han'some,' said Uncle Eb, looking up over his spectacles, +'but mebbe they ain't just as splendid as they'd orter be. How much +money did David give ye?' + +'One hundred and fifty dollars,' I said, thinking it a very grand sum +indeed. + +''Tain't enough,' said Uncle Eb, bolting up at me again. 'Leastways +not if ye're goin' t' hev a new suit. I want ye t' be spick an' span.' + +He picked up his trousers then, and took out his fat leather wallet. + +'Lock the door,' he whispered. + +'Pop goes the weasel!' he exclaimed, good-naturedly, and then he +began counting the bills. + +'I'm not going to take any more of your money, Uncle Eb,' I said. + +'Tut, tut!' said he, 'don't ye try t' interfere. what d' ye think they'll +charge in the city fer a reel, splendid suit?' + +He stopped and looked up at me. + +'Probably as much as fifty dollars,' I answered. + +'Whew-w-w!' he whistled. 'Patty steep! It is sartin.' + +'Let me go as I am" said I. 'Time enough to have a new suit when +I've earned it.' + +'Wall,' he said, as he continued counting, 'I guess you've earnt it +already. Ye've studied hard an' tuk first honours an' yer goin' where +folks are purty middlin' proud'n haughty. I want ye t' be a reg'lar +high stepper, with a nice, slick coat. There,' he whispered, as he +handed me the money, 'take thet! An' don't ye never tell 'at I g'in it +t' ye.' + +I could not speak for a little while, as I took the money, for +thinking of the many, many things this grand old man had done +for me. + +'Do ye think these boots'll do?' he asked, as he held up to the light +the pair he had taken off in the evening. + +'They look all right,' I said. + +'Ain't got no decent squeak to 'em now, an' they seem t' look kind +o' clumsy. How're your'n?' he asked. + +I got them out from under the berth and we inspected them +carefully deciding in the end they would pass muster. + +The steward had made up our berths, when he came, and lit our +room for us. Our feverish discussion of attire had carried us far +past midnight, when we decided to go to bed. + +'S'pose we musm't talk t' no strangers there 'n New York,' said +Uncle Eb, as he lay down. 'I've read 'n the Triburne how they'll +purtend t' be friends an' then grab yer money an' run like Sam Hill. +If I meet any o' them fellers they're goin' t' find me purty middlin' +poor comp'ny.' + +We were up and on deck at daylight, viewing the Palisades. The +lonely feeling of an alien hushed us into silence as we came to the +noisy and thickening river craft at the upper end of the city. +Countless window panes were shining in the morning sunlight. +This thought was in my mind that somewhere in the innumerable +host on either side was the one dearer to me than any other. We +enquired our way at the dock and walked to French's Hotel, on +Printing House Square. After breakfast we went and ordered all the +grand new things we had planned to get. They would not be ready +for two days, and after talking it over we decided to go and make a +short call. Hope, who had been up and looking for us a long time, +gave us a greeting so hearty we began to get the first feeling of +comfort since landing. She was put out about our having had +breakfast, I remember, and said we must have our things brought +there at once. + +'I shall have to stay at the hotel awhile,' I said, thinking of the new +clothes. + +'Why,' said Mrs Fuller, 'this girl has been busy a week fixing your +rooms and planning for you. We could not hear of your going +elsewhere. It would be downright ingratitude to her.' + +A glow of red came into the cheeks of Hope that made me +ashamed of my remark. I thought she looked lovelier in her pretty +blue morning gown, covering a broad expanse of crinoline, than +ever before. + +'And you've both got to come and hear me sing tonight at the +church,' said she. 'I wouldn't have agreed to sing if I had not +thought you were to be here.' + +We made ourselves at home, as we were most happy to do, and +that afternoon I went down town to present to Mr Greeley the +letter that David Brower had given me. + +Chapter 29 + +I came down Broadway that afternoon aboard a big white omnibus, +that drifted slowly in a tide of many vehicles. Those days there +were a goodly show of trees on either side of that thoroughfare - +elms, with here and there a willow, a sumach or a mountain ash. +The walks were thronged with handsome people - dandies with +high hats and flaunting necknes and swinging canes - beautiful +women, each covering a broad circumference of the pavement, +with a cone of crinoline that swayed over dainty feet. From Grace +Church down it was much of the same thing we see now, with a +more ragged sky line. Many of the great buildings, of white and +red sandstone, had then appeared, but the street was largely in +the possession of small shops - oyster houses, bookstores and the +like. Not until I neared the sacred temple of the Tribune did I feel +a proper sense of my own littleness. There was the fountain of all +that wisdom which had been read aloud and heard with reverence +in our household since a time I could but dimly remember. There +sat the prophet who had given us so much - his genial views of life +and government, his hopes, his fears, his mighty wrath at the +prospering of cruelty and injustice. + +'I would like to see Mr Horace Greeley,' I said, rather timidly, at +the counter. + +'Walk right up those stairs and turn to the left,' said a clerk, as he +opened a gate for me. + +Ascending, I met a big man coming down, hurriedly, and with +heavy steps. We stood dodging each other a moment with that +unfortunate co-ordination of purpose men sometimes encounter +when passing each other. Suddeniy the big man stopped in the +middle of the stairway and held both of his hands above his head. + +'In God's name! young man,' said he, 'take your choice.' + +He spoke in a high, squeaky voice that cut me with the sharpness +of its irritation. I went on past him and entered an open door near +the top of the stairway. + +'Is Mr Horace Greeley in?' I enquired of a young man who sat +reading papers. + +'Back soon,' said he, without looking up. 'Take a chair.' + +In a little while I heard the same heavy feet ascending the stairway +two steps at a time. Then the man I had met came hurriedly into +the room. + +'This is Mr Greeley,' said the yo'mg man who was reading. + +The great editor turned and looked at me through gold-rimmed +spectacles. I gave him my letter out of a trembling hand. He +removed it from the envelope and held it close to his big, kindly, +smooth-shaven face. There was a fringe of silky, silver hair, +streaked with yellow, about the lower part of his head from temple +to temple. It also encircled his throat from under his collar. His +cheeks were fall and fair as a lady's, with rosy spots in them and a +few freckles about his nose. He laughed as he finished reading the +letter. + +'Are you Dave Brower's boy?' he asked in a drawling falsetto, +looking at me out of grey eyes and smiling with good humour. + +'By adoption,' I answered.' + +'He was an almighty good rassler,' he said, deliberately, as he +looked again at the letter.' + +'What do you want to do?' he asked abruptly.' + +'Want to work on the Tribune,' I answered.' + +'Good Lord! he said. 'I can't hire everybody.' + +I tried to think of some argument, but what with looking at the +great man before me, and answering his questions and maintaining +a decent show of dignity, I had enough to do. + +'Do you read the Tribune? he asked.' + +'Read it ever since I can remember.' + +'What do you think of the administration? + +'Lot of dough faces! I answered, smiling, as I saw he recognised +his own phrase. He sat a moment tapping the desk with his +penholder.' + +'There's so many liars here in New York,' he said, 'there ought to +be room for an honest man. How are the crops?' + +'Fair, I answered. 'Big crop of boys every year.' + +'And now you re trying to find a market, he remarked.' + +'Want to have you try them,' I answered. + +'Well,' said he, very seriously, turning to his desk that came up to +his chin as he sat beside it, 'go and write me an article about rats.' + +'Would you advise-,' I started to say, when he interrupted me. + +'The man that gives advice is a bigger fool than the man that takes +it,' he fleered impatiently. 'Go and do your best!' + +Before he had given me this injunction he had dipped his pen and +begun to write hurriedly. If I had known him longer I should have +known that, while he had been talking to me, that tireless mind of +his had summoned him to its service. I went out, in high spirits, +and sat down a moment on one of the benches in the little park +near by, to think it all over. He was going to measure my +judgement, my skill as a writer- my resources. 'Rats,' I said to +myself thoughtfully. 1 had read much about them. They infested +the ships, they overran the wharves, they traversed the sewers. An +inspiration came to me. I started for the waterfront, asking my way +every block or two. Near the East River I met a policeman - a big, +husky, good-hearted Irishman. + +'Can you tell me,' I said, 'who can give me information about rats?' + +'Rats?' he repeated. 'What d' ye wan't' know about thim?' + +'Everything,'I said. 'They ve just given me a job on the New York +Tribune,'I added proudly. + +He smiled good-naturedly. He had looked through me at a glance. + +'Just say "Tribune",' he said. 'Ye don't have t say "New York +Tribune" here. Come along wi me.' + +He took me to a dozen or more of the dock masters. + +'Give 'im a lift, my hearty,'he said to the first of them. 'He's a +green.' + +I have never forgotten the kindness of that Irishman, whom I came +to know well in good time. Remembering that day and others I +always greeted him with a hearty 'God bless the Irish!' every time I +passed him, and he would answer, 'Amen, an' save yer riverince.' + +He did not leave me until I was on my way home loaded with fact +and fable and good dialect with a savour of the sea in it. + +Hope and Uncle Eb were sitting together in his room when I +returned. + +'Guess I've got a job,'I said, trying to be very cool about it.. + +'A job! said Hope eagerly, as she rose. 'Where? + +'With Mr Horace Greeley,'I answered, my voice betraying my +excitement. + +'Jerusalem! said Uncle Eb. 'Is it possible? ' + +'That's grand! said Hope. 'Tell us about it.' + +Then I told them of my interview with the great editor and of what +I had done since. + +'Ye done wonderful!' said Uncle Eb and Hope showed quite as +much pleasure in her own sweet way. + +I was for going to my room and beginning to write at once, but +Hope said it was time to be getting ready for dinner. + +When we came down at half-past six we were presented to our +host and the guests of the evening - handsome men and women in +full dress - and young Mr Livingstone was among them. I felt +rather cheap in my frock coat, although I had thought it grand +enough for anybody on the day of my graduation. Dinner +announced, the gentlemen rose and offered escort to the ladies, +and Hope and Mrs Fuller relieved our embarrassment by +conducting us to our seats - women are so deft in those little +difficulties. The dinner was not more formal than that of every +evening in the Fuller home - for its master was a rich man of some +refinement of taste - and not at all comparable to the splendid +hospitality one may see every day at the table of a modem +millionaire. But it did seem very wonderful to us, then, with its +fine-mannered servants, its flowers, its abundant silver. Hope had +written much to her mother of the details of deportment at John +Fuller's table, and Elizabeth had delicately imparted to us the +things we ought to know. We behaved well, I have since been told, +although we got credit for poorer appetites than we possessed. +Unde Eb took no chances and refused everything that had a look of +mystery and a suggestion of peril, dropping a droll remark, +betimes, that sent a ripple of amusement around the table. + +John Trumbull sat opposite me, and even then I felt a curious +interest in him - a big, full bearded man, quite six feet tall, his skin +and eyes dark, his hair iron-grey, his voice deep like David s. I +could not get over the impression that I had seen him before - a +feeling I have had often, facing men I could never possibly have +met. No word came out of his firm mouth unless he were +addressed, and then all in hearing listened to the little he had to +say: it was never more than some very simple remark. In his face +and form and voice there was abundant heraldry of rugged power +and ox-like vitality. I have seen a bronze head of Daniel Webster +which, with a full blonde beard and an ample covering of grey hair +would have given one a fairly perfect idea of the look of John +Trumbull. Imagine it on a tall, and powerful body and let it speak +with a voice that has in it the deep and musical vibration one may +hear in the looing of an ox and you shall see, as perfectly as my +feeble words can hdp you to do, this remarkable man who, must, +hereafter, play before you his part - compared to which mine is as +the prattle of a child - in this drama of God's truth. + +'You have not heard,'said Mrs Fuller addressing me, 'how Mr +Trumbull saved Hope's life.' + +'Saved Hope's life!'I exclaimed. + +'Saved her life,'she repeated, 'there isn t a doubt of it. We never +sent word of it for fear it would give you all needless worry. It was +a day of last winter - fell crossing Broadway, a dangerous place' +he pulled her aside just in time - the horse's feet were raised above +her - she would have been crushed in a moment He lifted her in his +arms and carried her to the sidewalk not a bit the worse for it. + +'Seems as if it were fate,'said Hope. 'I had seen him so often and +wondered who he was. I recall a night when I had to come home +alone from rehearsal. I was horribly afraid. I remember passing +him under a street lamp. If he had spoken to me, then, I should +have dropped with fear and he would have had to carry me home +that time. + +'It's an odd thing a girl like you should ever have to walk home +alone,'said Mr Fuller. 'Doesn't speak well for our friend +Livingstone or Burnham there or Dobbs. + +'Mrs Fuller doesn't give us half a chance,'said Livingstone, 'she +guards her day and night. It's like the monks and the Holy Grail. + +'Hope is independent of the young men,'said Mrs Fuller as we rose +from the table. 'If I cannot go with her myself, in the carriase, I +always send a maid or a manservant to walk home with her. But +Mr Fuller and I were out of town that night and the young men +missed their great opportunity. + +'Had a differ nt way o'sparkin'years ago,'said Unde Eb. 'Didn t +never hey if please anybody but the girl then. If ye liked a girl ye +went an'sot up with her an'gin her a smack an'tol'her right out +plain an'square what ye wanted. An'thet settled it one way er t +other. An'her mother she step'in the next room with the door +half-open an'never paid no 'tention. Recollec'one col'night when I +was sparkin'the mother hollered out o'bed, "Lucy, hey ye got +anythin 'round ye?" an'she hollered back, "Yis, mother," an'she +hed too but 'twan't nothin'but my arm.' + +They laughed merrily, over the quaint reminiscence of my old +friend and the quainter way he had of telling it. The rude dialect of +the backwoodsman might have seemed oddly out of place, there, +but for the quiet, unassuming manner and the fine old face of +Uncle Eb in which the dullest eye might see the soul of a +gentleman. + +'What became of Lucy?'Mr Fuller enquired, laughingly. 'You +never married her.' + +'Lucy died,'he answered soberly; 'thet was long, long ago.' + +Then he went away with John Trumbull to the smoking-room +where I found them, talking earnestly in a corner, when it was time +to go to the church with Hope. + +Chapter 30 + +Hope and Uncle Eb and I went away in a coach with Mrs Fuller. +There was a great crowd in the church that covered, with sweeping +arches, an interior more vast than any I had ever entered. Hope was +gowned in white silk, a crescent of diamonds in her hair - a +birthday gift from Mrs Fuller; her neck and a part of her full breast +unadorned by anything save the gifts of God - their snowy +whiteness, their lovely curves. + +First Henry Cooper came on with his violin - a great master as I +now remember him. Then Hope ascended to the platform, her +dainty kid slippers showing under her gown, and the odious +Livingstone escorting her. I was never so madly in love or so +insanely jealous. I must confess it for I am trying to tell the whole +truth of myself'I was a fool. And it is the greater folly that one +says ever 'I was,'and never 'I am'in that plea. I could even see it +myself then and there, but I was so great a fool I smiled and spoke +fairly to the young man although I could have wrung his neck with +rage. There was a little stir and a passing whisper in the crowd as +she stood waiting for the prelude. Then she sang the ballad of Auld +Robin Grey - not better than I had heard her sing it before, but so +charmingly there were murmurs of delight going far and wide in +the audience when she had finished. Then she sang the fine +melody of 'Angels ever Bright and Fair , and again the old +ballad she and I had heard first from the violin of poor Nick +Goodall. + +By yon bonnie bank an'by yon bonnie bonnie brae +The sun shines bright on Loch Lomond +Where me an'me true love were ever won't if gae +On the bonnie, bonnie bank o'Loch Lomond. + +Great baskets of roses were handed to her as she came down from +the platform and my confusion was multiplied by their number for +I had not thought to bring any myself. + +I turned to Uncle Eb who, now and then, had furtively wiped his +eyes. 'My stars!'he whispered, 'ain't itreemarkable grand! Never +heard ner seen nothin'like thet in all my born days. An't'think it's +my little Hope. + +He could go no further. His handkerchief was in his hand while he +took refuge in silence. + +Going home the flowers were heaped upon our laps and I, with +Hope beside me, felt some restoration of comfort. + +'Did you see Trumbull?'Mrs Fuller asked. 'He sat back of us and +did seem to enjoy it so much - your singing. He was almost +cheerful. + +'Tell me about Mr Trumbull,'I said. 'He is interesting. + +'Speculator,'said Mrs Fuller. 'A strange man, successful, silent, +unmarried and, I think, in love. Has beautiful rooms they say on +Gramercy Park. Lives alone with an old servant. We got to know +him through the accident. Mr Fuller and he have done business +together - a great deal of it since then. Operates in the stock +market. + +A supper was waiting for us at home and we sat a long time at the +table. I was burning for a talk with Hope but how was I to manage +it? We rose with the others and went and sat down together in a +corner of the great parlour. We talked of that night at the White +Church in Faraway when we heard Nick Goodall play and she had +felt the beginning of a new life. + +'I've heard how well you did last year,'she said, 'and how nice you +were to the girls. A friend wrote me all about it. How attentive you +were to that little Miss Brown! + +'But decently polite,'I answered. 'One has to have somebody or - or + be a monk. + +'One has to have somebody!'she said, quickly, as she picked at thc +flower on her bosom and looked down at it soberly. 'That is true +one has to have somebody and, you know, I haven t had any lack +of company myself. By the way, I have news to tell you. + +She spoke slowly and in a low voice with a touch of sadness in it. I +felt the colour mounting to my face. + +'News!'I repeated. 'What news, I-lope? + +'I am going away to England,'she said, 'with Mrs Fuller if - if +mother will let me. I wish you would write and ask her to let me +go. + +I was unhorsed. What to say I knew not, what it meant I could +vaguely imagine. There was a moment of awkward silence. + +'Of course I will ask her if you wish to go,'I said. 'When do you +sail? + +'They haven t fixed the day yet. + +She sat looking down at her fan, a beautiful, filmy thing between +braces of ivory. Her knees were crossed, one dainty foot showing +under ruffles of lace. I looked at her a moment dumb with +admiration. + +'What a big man you have grown to be Will,'she said presently. 'I +am almost afraid of you now. + +She was still looking down at the fan and that little foot was +moving nervously. Now was my time. I began framing an avowal. +I felt a wild impulse to throw my strong arms about her and draw +her close to me and feel the pink velvet of her fair face upon mine. +ff1 had only done it! But what with the strangeness and grandeur +of that big room, the voices of the others who were sitting in the +library, near by, the mystery of the spreading crinoline that was +pressing upon my knees, I had not half the courage of a lover. + +'My friend writes me that you are in love,'she said, opening her +fan and moving it slowly, as she looked up at me. + +'She is right I must confess it,'I said, 'I am madly, hopelessly in +love. It is time you knew it Hope and I want your counsel. + +She rose quickly and turned her face away. + +'Do not tell me - do not speak of it again - I forbid you,'she +answered coldly. + +Then she stood silent. I rose to take her hand and ask her to tell me +why, a pretty rankling in my heart, Soft footsteps and the swish of +a gown were approaching. Before I could speak Mrs Fuller had +come through the doorway. + +'Come Hope,'she said, 'I cannot let you sit up late - you are worn +out, my dear. + +Then Hope bade us both good-night and went away to her room. If +I had known as much about women then, as now, I should have +had it out, with short delay, to some understanding between us. But +in that subject one loves and learns. And one thing I have learned +is this, that jealousy throws its illusions on every word and look +and act. I went to my room and sat down for a bit of reckoning. +Hope had ceased to love me, I felt sure, and how was I to win her +back? + +After all my castle building what was I come to? + +I heard my door open presently, and then I lifted my head. Uncle +Eb stood near me in his stocking feet and shirt-sleeves. + +'In trouble,'he whispered. + +'In trouble,'I said. + +''Bout Hope? + +'It's about Hope. + +'Don't be hasty. Hope ll never go back on you,'he whispered. 'She +doesn't love me,'I said impulsively. 'She doesn't care the snap of +her finger for me. + +'Don't believe it,'he answered calmly. 'Not a single word of it. +Thet woman - she's tryin't'keep her away from ye - but 'twon't +make no differ nce. Not a bit. + +'I must try to win her back - someway - somehow,'I whispered. + +'Gi n ye the mitten?'he asked. + +'That's about it,'I answered, going possibly too far in the depth of +my feeling. + +'Whew w!'he softly whistled. 'Wall, it takes two mittens t'make a +pair - ye ll hey t'ask her ag in. + +'Yes I cannot give her up,'I said decisively, 'I must try to win her +back. It isn t fair. I have no claim upon her. But I must do it. + +'Consarn it! women like t'be chased,'he said. 'It's their natur . +What do they fix up so fer - di mon's an'silks an'satins - if 'tain't +t'set men a chasm'uv 'em? You d otter enjoy it. Stick to her - +jes'like a puppy to a root. Thet's my advice. 'Hope has got too far +ahead of me,'I said. 'She can many a rich man if she wishes to, and +I don't see why she shouldn t. What am I, anyhow, but a poor devil +just out of college and everything to win? It makes me miserable +to think here in this great house how small I am. + +'There's things goin' if happen,'Uncle Eb whispered. 'I can't tell ye +what er when but they re goin' if happen an' they re goin' if +change everything. + +We sat thinking a while then. I knew what he meant - that I was to +conquer the world, somehow, and the idea seemed to me so absurd +I could hardly help laughing as melancholy as I felt. + +'Now you go if bed,'he said, rising and gently touching my head +with his hand. 'There's things goin't'happen, boy - take my word +fer it. + +I got in bed late at night but there was no sleep for me. In the still +hours I lay quietly, planning my future, for now I must make +myself worth having and as soon as possible. + +Some will say my determination was worthy of a better lover but, +bless you! I have my own way of doing things and it has not been +always so unsuccessful. + +Chapter 31 + +Hope was not at breakfast with us. + +'The child is worn out,'said Mrs Fuller. 'I shall keep her in bed a +day or two. + +'Couldn't I see her a moment?'I enquired. + +'Dear! no!'said she. 'The poor thing is in bed with a headache.'If +Hope had been ill at home I should have felt free to go and sit by +her as I had done more than once. It seemed a little severe to be +shut away from her now but Mrs Fuller's manner had +fore-answered any appeal and I held my peace. Having no children +of her own she had assumed a sort of proprietorship over Hope that +was evident - that probably was why the girl had ceased to love me +and to write to me as of old. A troop of mysteries came clear to me +that morning. Through many gifts and favours she had got my +sweetheart in a sort of bondage and would make a marriage of her +own choosing if possible. + +'Is there anything you would like particularly for your breakfast? +Mrs Fuller enquired. + +'Hain't no way pertic lar,'said Uncle Eb. 'I gen rally eat buckwheat +pancakes an'maple sugar with a good strong cup o'tea. + +Mrs Fuller left the room a moment. + +'Dunno but I ll go out if the barn a minnit 'n take a look at the +hosses,'he said when she came back. + +'The stable is a mile away,'she replied smiling. + +'Gran'good team ye druv us out with las'night,'he said. 'Hed a +chance t'look 'em over a leetle there at the door. The off hoss is +puffed some for ard but if ye r husband ll put on a cold bandage ev +ry night it ll make them legs smoother n a hound's tooth. + +She thanked him and invited us to look in at the conservatory. + +'Where's yer husband?'Uncle Eb enquired. + +'He's not up yet,'said she, 'I fear he did not sleep well. + +'Now Mis Fuller,'said Uncle Eb, as we sat waiting, 'if there s +anything I can do t'help jes'le'me know what 'tis. + +She said there was nothing. Presently Uncle Eb sneezed so +powerfully that it rattled the crystals on the chandelier and rang in +the brass medallions. + +The first and second butlers came running in with a frightened +look. There was also a startled movement from somebody above +stairs. + +'I do sneeze powerful, sometimes,'said Uncle Eb from under his +red bandanna.''S enough if scare anybody. + +They brought in our breakfast then - a great array of tempting +dishes. 'Jest hey four pancakes 'n a biled egg,'said Uncle Eb as he +sipped his tea. 'Grand tea!'he added, 'strong enough if float a silver +dollar too. + +'Mrs Fuller,'I said rising, when we had finished, 'I thank you for +your hospitality, but as I shall have to work nights, probably, I +must find lodgings near the office. + +'You must come and see us again,'she answered cordially. 'On +Saturday I shall take Hope away for a bit of rest to Saratoga +probably - and from there I shall take her to Hillsborough myself +for a day or two. + +'Thought she was goin'home with me,'said Uncle Eb. + +'O dear no!'said Mrs Fuller, 'she cannot go now. The girl is ill and +it's such a long journey. + +The postman came then with a letter for Uncle Eb. + +It was from David Brower. He would have to be gone a week or so +buying cattle and thought Uncle Eb had better come home as soon +as convenient. + +'They re lonesome,'he said, thoughtfully, after going over the +letter again. "Tain't no wonder - they re gittin'old. + +Uncle Eb was older than either of them but he had not thought of +that. + +'Le's see; 's about eight o clock,'said he, presently. 'I've got t'go an +ten'to some business o'my own. I ll be back here sometime if day +Mis Fuller an'I ll hey if see thet girl. Ye musm t never try if keep +me 'way from her. She's sot on my knee too many year fer that' +altogether too many. + +We arranged to meet there at four. Then a servant brought us our +hats. I heard Hope calling as we passed the stairway: + +'Won't you come up a minute, Uncle Eb? I want to see you very +much. + +Then Uncle Eb hurried upstairs and I came away. + +I read the advertisements of board and lodging - a perplexing task +for one so ignorant of the town. After many calls I found a place to +my liking on Monkey Hill, near Printing House Square. Monkey +Hill was the east end of William Street, and not in the least +fashionable. There were some neat and cleanly looking houses on +it of wood, and brick, and brown stone inhabited by small +tradesmen; a few shops, a big stable and the chalet sitting on a +broad, flat roof that covered a portion of the stableyard. The yard +itself was the summit of Monkey Hill. It lay between two brick +buildings and up the hill, from the walk, one looked into the +gloomy cavern of the stable and under the low roof, on one side7 +there were dump carts and old coaches in varying stages of +infirmity. There was an old iron shop, that stood flush with the +sidewalk, flanking the stableyard. A lantern and a mammoth key +were suspended above the door and hanging upon the side of the +shop was a wooden stair ascending to the chalet The latter had a +sheathing of weather-worn clapboards. It stood on the rear end of +the brick building, communicating with the front rooms above the +shop. A little stair of five steps ascended from the landing to its red +door that overlooked an ample yard of roofing, adorned with +potted plants. The main room of the chalet where we ate our meals +and sat and talked, of an evening, had the look of a ship's cabin. +There were stationary seats along the wall covered with leathern +cushions. There were port and starboard lanterns and a big one of +polished brass that overhung the table. A ship's clock that had a +noisy and cheerful tick, was set in the wall. A narrow passage led +to the room in front and the latter had slanting sides. A big window +of little panes, in its further end, let in the light of William Street +Here I found a home for myself'humble but quaint and cleanly. A +thrifty German who, having long followed the sea, had married +and thrown out his anchor for good and all, now dwelt in the chalet +with his wife and two boarders - both newspaper men. The old +shopkeeper in front, once a sailor himself, had put the place in +shipshape and leased itto them. + +Mine host bore the name of Opper and was widely known as 'All +Right'Opper, from his habit of cheery approval. Everything and +everybody were 'all right'to him so far as I could observe. If he +were blessed or damned he said 'all right . To be sure he took +exceptions, on occasions, but even then the affair ended with his +inevitable verdict of 'all right . Every suggestion I made as to terms +of payment and arrangement of furniture was promptly stamped +with this seal of approval. + +I was comfortably settled and hard at work on my article by noon. +At four I went to meet Uncle Eb. Hope was still sick in bed and we +came away in a frame of mind that could hardly have been more +miserable. I tried to induce him to stay a night with me in my new +quarters. + +'I mus n t,'he said cheerfully.''Fore long I m comin'down ag in +but I can't fool 'round no longer now. I ll jes'go n git my new +clothes and put fer the steamboat. Want ye t'go n see Hope +tomorrow. She's comm up with Mis Fuller next week. I m goin't +find out what's the matter uv her then. Somethin's wrong +somewhere. Dunno what 'tis. She's all upsot. + +Poor girl! it had been almost as heavy a trial to her as to me' +cutting me off as she had done. Remembrances of my tender +devotion to her, in all the years between then and childhood, must +have made her sore with pity. I had already determined what I +should do, and after Uncle Eb had gone that evening I wrote her a +long letter and asked her if I might not still have some hope of her +loving me. I begged her to let me know when I might come and +talk with her alone. With what eloquence I could bring to bear I +told her how my love had grown and laid hold of my life. + +I finished my article that night and, in the morning, took it to Mr +Greeley. He was at his desk writing and at the same time giving +orders in a querulous tone to some workman who sat beside him. +He did not look up as he spoke. He wrote rapidly, his nose down so +close to the straggling, wet lines that I felt a fear of its touching +them. I stood by, waiting my opportunity. A full-bearded man in +his shirt-sleeves came hurriedly out of another room. + +'Mr Greeley,'he said, halting at the elbow of the great editor. + +'Yes, what is it?'the editor demanded nervously, his hand +wobbling over the white page, as rapidly as before, his eyes upon +his work. + +'Another man garrotted this morning on South Street. + +'Better write a paragraph,'he said, his voice snapping with +impatience as he brushed the full page aside and began sowing his +thoughts on another. 'Warn our readers. Tell 'em to wear brass +collars with spikes in 'em till we get a new mayor. + +The man went away laughing. + +Mr Greeley threw down his pen, gathered his copy and handed itto +the workman who sat beside him. + +'Proof ready at five!'he shouted as the man was going out of the +room. + +'Hello! Brower,'he said bending to his work again. 'Thought you d +blown out the gas somewhere. + +'Waiting until you reject this article,'I said. + +He sent a boy for Mr Ottarson, the city editor. Meanwhile he had +begun to drive his pen across the broadsheets with tremendous +energy. + +Somehow it reminded me of a man ploughing black furrows +behind a fast walking team in a snow flurry. His mind was 'straddle +the furrow'when Mr Ottarson came in. There was a moment of +silence in which the latter stood scanning a page of the Herald he +had brought with him. + +'Ottarson!'said Mr Greeley, never slacking the pace of his busy +hand, as he held my manuscript in the other, 'read this. Tell me +what you think of it. If good, give him a show. + +'The staff is full, Mr Greeley,'said the man of the city desk. His +words cut me with disappointment. + +The editor of the Tribune halted his hand an instant, read the last +lines, scratching a word and underscoring another. + +'Don't care!'he shrilled, as he went on writing. 'Used to slide +downhill with his father. If he's got brains we ll pay him eight +dollars a-week. + +The city editor beckoned to me and I followed him into another +room. + +'If you will leave your address,'he said, 'I will let you hear from +me when we have read the article. + +With the hasty confidence of youth I began to discount my future +that very day'ordering a full dress suit, of the best tailor, hat and +shoes to match and a complement of neck wear that would have +done credit to Beau Brummel. It gave me a start when I saw the +bill would empty my pocket of more than half its cash. But I had a +stiff pace to fullow, and every reason to look my best. + +Chapter 32 + +I took a walk in the long twilight of that evening. As it began to +grow dark I passed the Fuller house and looked up at its windows. +Standing under a tree on the opposite side of the avenue I saw a +man come out of the door and walk away hurriedly with long +strides. I met him at the next corner. + +'Good-evening!'he said. + +I recognised then the voice and figure ofJohn Trumbull. 'Been to +Fuller s,'said he. + +'How is Hope?'I asked. + +'Better,'said he. 'Walk with me? + +'With pleasure,'said I, and then he quickened his pace. + +We walked awhile in silence, going so fast! had hardly time to +speak, and the darkness deepened into night. We hurried along +through streets and alleys that were but dimly lighted, coming out +at length on a wide avenue passing through open fields in the +upper part of the city. Lights in cabin windows glowed on the hills +around us. I made some remark about them but he did not hear me. +He slackened pace in a moment and began whispering to himself' +I could not hear what he said. I thought of bidding him good-night +and returning but where were we and how could I find my way? +We heard a horse coming presently at a gallop. At the first loud +whack of the hoofs he turned suddenly and laying hold of my arm +began to run. I followed him into the darkness of the open field. It +gave me a spell of rare excitement for I thought at once of +highwaymen - having read so much of them in the Tribune. He +stopped suddenly and stooped low his hands touching the grass +and neither spoke until the horse had gone well beyond us. Then +he rose, stealthily, and looked about him in silence, even turning +his face to the dark sky where only a few stars were visible. + +Well!'said he with a sort of grunt. 'Beats the devil! I thought it was + A wonderful thing was happening in the sky. A great double moon +seemed to be flying over the city hooded in purple haze. A little +spray of silver light broke out of it, as we looked, and shot +backward and then floated after the two shining disks that were +falling eastward in a long curve. They seemed to be so near I +thought they were coming down upon the city. It occurred to me +they must have some connection with the odd experience I had +gone through. In a moment they had passed out of sight. We were +not aware that we had witnessed a spectacle the like of which had +not been seen in centuries, if ever, since God made the heavens' +the great meteor of i86o. + +'Let's go back,'said Trumbull. 'We came too far. I forgot myself.' + +'Dangerous here?'I enquired. + +'Not at all,'said he, 'but a long way out of town - tired? + +'Rather,'I said, grateful for his evident desire to quiet my alarm. + +'Come!'said he as we came back to the pavement, his hand upon +my shoulder. 'Talk to me. Tell me - what are you going to do? + +We walked slowly down the deserted avenue, I, meanwhile, +talking of my pians. + +'You love. Hope,'he said presently. 'You will marry her? + +'If she will have me,'said I. + +'You must wait,'he said, 'time enough! + +He quickened his pace again as we came in sight of the scattering +shops and houses of the upper city and no other word was spoken. +On the corners we saw men looking into the sky and talking of the +fallen moon. It was late bedtime when we turned into Gramercy +Park. + +'Come in,'said he as he opened an iron gate. + +I followed him up a marble stairway and a doddering old English +butler opened the door for us. We entered a fine hall, its floor of +beautiful parquetry muffled with silken rugs. High and spacious +rooms were all aglow with light. + +He conducted me to a large smoking-room, its floor and walls +covered with trophies of the hunt - antlers and the skins of +carnivora. Here he threw off his coat and bade me be at home as +he lay down upon a wicker divan covered with the tawny skin of +some wild animal. He stroked the fur fondly with his hand. + +'Hello Jock!'he said, a greeting that mystified me. + +'Tried to eat me,'he added, turning to me. + +Then he bared his great hairy arm and showed me a lot of ugly +scars, I besought him to tell the story. + +'Killed him,'he answered. 'With a gun? + +'No - with my hands,'and that was all he would say of it. + +He lay facing a black curtain that covered a corner. Now and then I +heard a singular sound in the room - like some faint, far, night cry +such as I have heard often in the deep woods. It was so weird I felt +some wonder of it. Presently I could tell it came from behind the +curtain where, also, I heard an odd rustle like that of wings. + +I sat in a reverie, looking at the silent man before me, and in the +midst of it he pulled a cord that hung near him and a bell rang. + +'Luncheon!'he said to the old butler who entered immediately. + +Then he rose and showed me odd things, carved out of wood, by +his own hand as he told me, and with a delicate art. He looked at +one tiny thing and laid it aside quickly. + +'Can't bear to look at it now,'he said. + +'Gibbet?'I enquired. + +'Gibbet,'he answered. + +It was a little figure bound hand and foot and hanging from the +gallows tree. + +'Burn it!'he said, turning to the old servant and putting it in his +hands. Luncheon had been set between us, the while, and as we +were eating it the butler opened a big couch and threw snowy +sheets of linen over it and silken covers that rustled as they fell. + +'You will sleep there,'said my host as his servant laid the pillows, +'and well I hope. + +I thought I had better go to my own lodgings. + +'Too late - too late,'said he, and I, leg-weary and half-asleep, +accepted his proffer of hospitality. Then, having eaten, he left me +and I got into bed after turning the lights out Something woke me +in the dark of the night. There was a rustling sound in the room. I +raised my head a bit and listened. It was the black curtain that +hung in the corner. I imagined somebody striking it violently. I saw +a white figure standing near me in the darkness. It moved away as +I looked at it. A cold wind was blowing upon my face. I lay a long +time listening and by and by I could hear the deep voice of +Trumbull as if he were groaning and muttering in his sleep. When +it began to come light I saw the breeze from an open window was +stirring the curtain of silk in the corner. I got out of bed and, +peering behind the curtain, saw only a great white owl, caged and +staring out of wide eyes that gleamed fiery in the dim light. I went +to bed again, sleeping until my host woke me in the late morning. + +After breakfasting I went to the chalet. The postman had been +there but he had brought no letter from Hope. I waited about home, +expecting to hear from her, all that day, only to see it end in bitter +disappointment. + +Chapter 33 + +That very night, Ilooked in at the little shop beneath us and met +Riggs. It was no small blessing, just as I was entering upon dark +and unknown ways of life, to meet this hoary headed man with all +his lanterns. He would sell you anchors and fathoms of chain and +rope enough to hang you to the moon but his 'lights'were the great +attraction of Riggs s. He had every kind of lantern that had ever +swung on land or sea. After dark, when light was streaming out of +its open door and broad window Riggs's looked like the side of an +old lantern itself. It was a door, low and wide, for a time when +men had big round bellies and nothing to do but fill them and +heads not too far above their business. It was a window gone blind +with dust and cobwebs so it resembled the dim eye of age. If the +door were closed its big brass knocker and massive iron latch +invited the passer. An old ship's anchor and a coil of chain lay +beside it. Blocks and heavy bolts, steering wheels, old brass +compasses, coils of rope and rusty chain lay on the floor and +benches, inside the shop. There were rows of lanterns, hanging on +the bare beams. And there was Riggs. He sat by a dusty desk and +gave orders in a sleepy, drawling tone to the lad who served him. +An old Dutch lantern, its light softened with green glass, sent a +silver bean across the gloomy upper air of the shop that evening. +Riggs held an old un lantern with little streams of light bursting +through its perforated walls. He was blind, one would know it at a +glance. Blindness is so easy to be seen. Riggs was showing it to a +stranger. + +'Turn down the lights,'he said and the boy got his step-ladder and +obeyed him. + +Then he held it aloft in the dusk and the little lantern was like a +castle tower with many windows lighted, and, when he set it down, +there was a golden sprinkle on the floor as if something had +plashed into a magic pool of light there in the darkness. + +Riggs lifted the lantern, presently, and stood swinging it in his +hand. Then its rays were sown upon the darkness falling silently +into every nook and corner of the gloomy shop and breaking into +flowing dapples on the wall. + +'See how quick it is!'said he as the rays flashed with the speed of +lightning. 'That is the only traveller from Heaven that travels fast +enough to ever get to earth. + +Then came the words that had a mighty fitness for his tongue. + +'Hail, holy light! Offspring of Heaven first born. + +His voice rose and fell, riding the mighty rhythm of inspired song. +As he stood swinging the lantern, then, he reminded me of a +chanting priest behind the censer. In a moment he sat down, and, +holding the lantern between his knees, opened its door and felt the +candle. Then as the light streamed out upon his hands, he rubbed +them a time, silently, as if washing them in the bright flood. + +'One dollar for this little box of daylight,'he said. + +'Blind?'said the stranger as he paid him the money. + +'No,'said Riggs, 'only dreaming as you are. + +I wondered what he meant by the words 'dreaming as you are . + +'Went to bed on my way home to marry,'he continued, stroking his +long white beard, 'and saw the lights go out an'went asleep and it +hasn t come morning yet - that's what I believe. I went into a +dream. Think I m here in a shop talking but I m really in my bunk +on the good ship Arid coming home. Dreamed everything since +then - everything a man could think of. Dreamed I came home and +found Annie dead, dreamed of blindness, of old age, of poverty, of +eating and drinking and sleeping and of many people who pass like +dim shadows and speak to me - you are one of them. And +sometimes I forget I am dreaming and am miserable, and then I +remember and am happy. I know when the morning comes I shall +wake and laugh at all these phantoms. And I shall pack my things +and go up on deck, for we shall be in the harbour probably - ay! +maybe Annie and mother will be waving their hands on the dock! + +The old face had a merry smile as he spoke of the morning and all +it had for him. + +'Seems as if it had lasted a thousand years,'he continued, yawning +and rubbing his eyes. 'But I've dreamed the like before, and, my +God! how glad I felt when I woke in the morning. + +It gave me an odd feeling - this remarkable theory of the old man. I +thought then it would be better for most of us if we could think all +our miserya dream and have his faithin the morning-thatitwould +bring back the things we have lost. I had come to buy a lock for my +door, but I forgot my errand and sat down by Riggs while the +stranger went away with his lantern. + +'You see no reality in anything but happiness,'I said. + +'It's all a means to that end,'he answered. 'It is good for me, this +dream. I shall be all the happier when I do wake, and I shall love +Annie all the better, I suppose. + +'I wish I could take my ifi luck as a dream and have faith only in +good things,'I said. + +'All that is good shall abide,'said he, stroking his white beard, 'and +all evil shall vanish as the substance of a dream. In the end the +only realities are God and love and Heaven. To die is just like +waking up in the morning. + +'But I know I m awake,'I said. + +'You think you are - that's a part of your dream. Sometimes I think +I m awake - it all seems so real to me. But I have thought it out, +and I am the only man I meet that knows he is dreaming. When +you do wake, in the morning, you may remember how you thought +you came to a certain shop and made some words with a man as to +whether you were both dreaming, and you will laugh and tell your +friends about it. Hold on! I can feel the ship lurching. I believe I +am going to wake. + +He sat a moment leaning back in his chair with closed eyes, and a +silence fell upon us in the which I could hear only the faint ticking +of a tall clock that lifted its face out of the gloom beyond me. + +'You there?'he whispered presently. + +'I am here,'I said. + +'Odd!'he muttered. 'I know how it will be - I know how it has been +before. Generally come to some high place and a great fear seizes +me. I slip, I fall - fall - fall, and then I wake. + +After a little silence I heard him snoring heavily. He was still +leaning back in his chair. I walked on tiptoe to the door where the +boy stood looking out. + +'Crazy?'I whispered. + +'Dunno,'said he, smiling. + +I went to my room above and wrote my first tale, which was +nothing more or less than some brief account of what I had heard +and seen down at the little shop that evening. I mailed it next day +to the Knickerbocker, with stamps for return if unavailable. + +Chapter 34 + +New York was a crowded city, even then, but I never felt so lonely +anywhere outside a camp in the big woods, The last day of the first +week caine, but no letter from Hope. To make an end of suspense I +went that Saturday morning to the home of the Fullers. The +equation of my value had dwindled sadly that week. Now a small +fraction would have stood for it - nay, even the square of it. + +Hope and Mrs Fuller had gone to Saratoga, the butler told me. I +came away with some sense of injury. I must try to be done with +Hope 'there was no help for it. I must go to work at something and +cease to worry and lie awake of nights. But I had nothing to do but +read and walk and wait. No word had come to me from the +Tribune' evidently it was not languishing for my aid. That day my +tale was returned to me 'with thanks with nothing but thanks +printed in black type on a slip of paper - cold, formal, prompt, +ready-made thanks. And I, myself, was in about the same fix - +rejected with thanks - politely, firmly, thankfully rejected. For a +moment I felt like a man falling. I began to see there was no very +clamourous demand for me in 'the great emporium , as Mr Greeley +called it. I began to see, or thought I did, why liope had shied at +my offer and was now shunning me. I went to the Tribune office. +Mr Greeley had gone to Washington; Mr Ottarson was too busy to +see me. I concluded that I would be willing to take a place on one +of the lesser journals. I spent the day going from one office to +another, but was rejected everywhere with thanks. I came home +and sat down to take account of stock. First, I counted my money, +of which there were about fifty dollars left. As to my talents, there +were none left. Like the pies at the Hillsborough tavern, if a man +came late to dinner - they were all out. I had some fine clothes, but +no more use for them than a goose for a peacock's feathers. I +decided to take anything honourable as an occupation, +even though it were not in one of the learned professions. I began +to answer advertisements and apply at business offices for +something to give me a living, but with no success. I began to feel +the selfishness of men. God pity the warm and tender heart of +youth when it begins to harden and grow chill, as mine did then; to +put away its cheery confidence forever; to make a new estimate of +itself and others. Look out for that time, O ye good people! that +have sons and daughters. + +I must say for myself that I had a mighty cOurage and no small +capital of cheerfulness. I went to try my luck with the newspapers +of Philadelphia, and there one of them kept me in suspense a week +to no purpose. When I came back reduced in cash and courage +Hope had sailed. + +There was a letter from Uncle Eb telling me when and by what +steamer they were to leave. 'She will reach there a Friday,'he +wrote, 'and would like to see you that evening at Fuller s. + +I had waited in Philadelphia, hoping I might have some word, to +give her a better thought of me, and, that night, after such a climax +of ill luck, well - I had need of prayer for a wayward tongue. I sent +home a good account of my prospects. I could not bring myself to +report failure or send for more money. I would sooner have gone to +work in a scullery. + +Meanwhile my friends at the chalet were enough to keep me in +good cheer. Therc were William McClingan, a Scotchman of a +great gift of dignity and a nickname inseparably connected with his +fame. He wrote leaders for a big weekly and was known as Waxy +MeClingan, to honour a pale ear of wax that took the place of a +member lost nobody could tell how. He drank deeply at times, but +never to the loss of his dignity or self possession. In his cups the +natural dignity of the man grew and expanded. One could tell the +extent of his indulgence by the degree of his dignity. Then his +mood became at once didactic and devotional. Indeed, I learned in +good time of the rumour that he had lost his ear in an argument +about the Scriptures over at Edinburgh. + +I remember he came an evening, soon after my arrival at the +chalet, when dinner was late. His dignity was at the full. He sat +awhile in grim silence, while a sense of injury grew in his bosom. + +'Mrs Opper,'said he, in a grandiose manner and voice that nicely +trilled the r s, 'in the fourth chapter and ninth verse of +Lamentations you will find these words - here he raised his voice a +bit and began to tap the palm of his left hand with the index finger +of his right, continuing: "They that be slain with the sword are +better than they that be slain with hunger. for these pine away +stricken through want of the fruits of the field." Upon my honour +as a gentleman, Mrs Opper, I was never so hungry in all my life. + +The other boarder was a rather frail man with an easy cough and a +confidential manner, lie wrote the 'Obituaries of Distinguished +Persons'for one of the daily papers. Somebody had told him once, +his head resembled that of Washington. He had never forgotten it, +as I have reason to remember. His mind lived ever among the +dead. His tongue was pickled in maxims; his heart sunk in the +brine of recollection; his humour not less unconscous and familiar +than that of an epitaph; his name was Lemuel Franidin Force. To +the public of his native city he had introduced Webster one fourth +ofJuly - a perennial topic of his lighter moments. + +I fell an easy victim to the obituary editor that first evening in the +chalet. We had risen from the table and he came and held me a +moment by the coat lapel. He released my collar, when he felt sure +of me, and began tapping my chest with his forefinger to drive +home his point I stood for quite an hour out of sheer politeness. By +that time he had me forced to the wall - a God's mercy, for there I +got some sense of relief in the legs. His gestures, in imitation of +the great Webster, put my head in some peril. Meanwhile he +continued drumming upon my chest. I looked longingly at the +empty chairs. I tried to cut him off with applause that should be +condusive and satisfying, but with no success. It had only a +stimulating effect. I felt somehow like a cheap hired man badly +overworked. I had lost all connection. I looked, and smiled, and +nodded, and exclaimed, and heard nothing. I began to plan a +method of escape. McClingan - the great and good Waxy +McClingan - came out of his room presently and saw myplight. + +'What is this?'he asked, interrupting, 'a serial stawry? + +Getting no answer he called my name, and when Force had paused +he came near. + +'In the sixth chapter and fifth verse of Proverbs,'said he, 'it is +written: + +"Deliver thyself as a roe from the hand of the hunter and as a bird +from the hand of the fowler." Deliver thyself, Brower. + +I did so, ducking under Force's arm and hastening to my chamber. + +'Ye have a brawling, busy tongue, man,'I heard McClingan saying. +'By the Lord! ye should know a dull tongue is sharper than a +serpent's tooth. + +'You are a meddlesome fellow,'said Force. + +'If I were you,'said McClingan, 'I would go and get for myself the +long ear of an ass and empty my memory into it every day. Try it, +man. Give it your confidence exclusively. Believe me, my dear +Force, you would win golden opinions. + +'It would be better than addressing an ear of wax,'said Force, +hurriedly withdrawing to his own room. + +This answer made McClingan angry. + +'Better an ear of wax than a brain of putty,'he called after him. +'Blessed is he that hath no ears when a fool's tongue is busy,'and +then strode up and down the floor, muttering ominously. + +I came out of my room shortly, and then he motioned me aside. + +'Pull your own trigger first, man,'he said to me in a low tone. +'When ye see he's going to shoot pull your own trigger first. Go +right up if him and tap him on the chest quiddy and say, "My dear +Force, I have a glawrious stawry to tell you," and keep tapping +him- his own trick, you know, and he can't complain. Now he has +a weak chest, and when he begins to cough - man, you are saved. + +Our host, Opper, entered presently, and in removing the tabledoth +inadvertently came between us. McClingan resented it promptly. + +'Mr Opper,'said he, leering at the poor German, 'as a matter of +personal obligement, will you cease to interrupt us? + +'All right! all right! gentlemens,'he replied, and then, fearingthat +he had not quite squared himself, turned back, at the kitchen door, +and added, 'Oxcuse me. + +McClingan looked at him with that leering superior smile of his, +and gave him just the slightest possible nod of his head. + +McClingan came into my room with me awhile then. He had been +everywhere, it seemed to me, and knew everybody worth knowing. +I was much interested in his anecdotes of the great men of the +time. Unlike the obituary editor his ear was quite as ready as his +tongue, though I said little save now and then to answer a question +that showed a kindly interest in me. + +I went with him to his room at last. where he besought me to join +him in drinking 'confusion to the enemies of peace and order . On +my refusing, he drank the toast alone and shortly proposed 'death +to slavery . This was followed in quick succession by 'death to the +arch traitor, Buchanan ; 'peace to the soul of John Brown ; 'success +to Honest Abe'and then came a hearty 'here's to the protuberant +abdomen of the Mayor . + +I left him at midnight standing in the middle of his room and +singing 'The Land o'the Leal'in a low tone savoured with vast +dignity. + +Chapter 35 + +I was soon near out of money and at my wit's end, but my will was +unconquered. In this plight I ran upon Fogarty, the policeman who +had been the good angel of my one hopeftil day in journalism. His +manner invited my confidence. + +'What luck?'said he. + +'Bad luck'I answered. 'Only ten dollars in my pocket and nothing +to do. + +He swung his stick thoughtfully. + +'If I was you,'said he, 'I d take anything honest. Upon me wurred, I +d ruther pound rocks than lay idle. + +'So would I. + +'Wud ye?'said he with animation, as he took my measure from +head to foot. + +'I ll do anything that's honest. + +'Ah ha!'said he, rubbing his sandy chin whiskers. 'Don't seem like +ye d been used if hard wurruk. + +'But I can do it,'I said. + +He looked at me sternly and beckoned with his head. + +'Come along,'said he. + +He took me to a gang of Irishmen working in the street near by. + +'Boss McCormick!'he shouted. + +A hearty voice answered, 'Aye, aye, Counsellor,'and McCormick +came out of the crowd, using his shovel for a staff. + +'A happy day if ye!'said Fogarty. + +'Same if youse an'manny o'thim,'said McCormick. + +'Ye ll gi'me one if ye do me a favour,'said Fogarty. + +'An'what?'said the other. + +'A job for this lad. Wull ye do it? + +'I wall,'said McCormick, and he did. + +I went to work early the next morning, with nothing on but my +underclothing and trousers, save a pair of gloves, that excited the +ridicule of my fellows. With this livery and the righteous +determination of earning two dollars a day, I began the inelegant +task of 'pounding rocks no merry occupation, I assure you, for a +hot summer's day on Manhattan Island. + +We were paving Park Place and we had to break stone and lay +them and shovel dirt and dig with a pick and crowbar. + +My face and neck were burned crimson when we quit work at five, +and I went home with a feeling of having been run over by the +cars. I had a strong sense of soul and body, the latter dominated by +a mighty appetite. McClingan viewed me at first with suspicion in +which there was a faint flavour of envy. He invited me at once to +his room, and was amazed at seeing it was no lark. I told him +franldy what! was doing and why and where. + +'I would not mind the loaning of a few dollars,'he said, 'as a matter +o'personal obligement I would be most happy to do it - most +happy, Brower, indeed I would. + +I thanked him cordially, but declined the favour, for at home they +had always taught me the danger of borrowing, and I was bound to +have it out with ill luck on my own resources. + +'Greeley is back,'said he, 'and I shall see him tomorrow. I will put +him in mind o'you. + +I went away sore in the morning, but with no drooping spirit. In the +middle of the afternoon I straightened up a moment to ease my +back and look about me. + +There at the edge of the gang stood the great Horace Greeley and +Waxy McClingan. The latter beckoned me as he caught my eye. +Iwent aside to greet them. Mr Greeley gave me his hand. + +'Do you mean to tell me that you d rather work than beg or +borrow?'said he. + +'That's about it,'I answered. + +'And ain't ashamed of it? + +'Ashamed! Why?'said I, not quite sure of his meaning. It had never +occurred to me that one had any cause to be ashamed of working. + +He turned to McClingan and laughed. + +'I guess you ll do for the Tribune,'he said. 'Come and see me at +twelve tomorrow. + +And then they went away. + +ff1 had been a knight of the garter I could not have been treated +with more distinguished courtesy by those hard-handed men the +rest of the day. I bade them goodbye at night and got my order for +four dollars. One Pat Devlin, a great-hearted Irishman, who had +shared my confidence and some of my doughnuts on the curb at +luncheon time, I remember best of all. + +'Ye ll niver fergit the toime we wurruked together under Boss +McCormick,'said he. + +And to this day, whenever I meet the good man, now bent and +grey, he says always, 'Good-day if ye, Mr Brower. D'ye mind the +toime we pounded the rock under Boss McCormick? + +Mr Greeley gave me a place at once on the local staff and invited +me to dine with him at his home that evening. Meanwhile he sent +me to the headquarters of the Republican Central Campaign +Committee, on Broadway, opposite the New York Hotel. Lincoln +had been nominated in May, and the great political fight of i86o +was shaking the city with its thunders. + +I turned in my copy at the city desk in good season, and, although +the great editor had not yet left his room, I took a car at once to +keep my appointment. A servant showed me to a seat in the big +back parlour of Mr Greeley's home, where I spent a lonely hour +before I heard his heavy footsteps in the hail. He immediately +rushed upstairs, two steps at a time, and, in a moment, I heard his +high voice greeting the babies. He came down shortly with one of +them clinging to his hand. + +'Thunder!'said he, 'I had forgotten all about you. Let's go right in +to dinner. + +He sat at the head of the table and I next to him. I remember how, +wearied by the day's burden, he sat, lounging heavily, in careless +attitudes. He stirred his dinner into a hash of eggs, potatoes, squash +and parsnips, and ate it leisurely with a spoon, his head braced +often with his left forearm, its elbow resting on the table. It was a +sort of letting go, after the immense activity of the day, and a +casual observer would have thought he affected the uncouth, +which was not true of him. + +He asked me to tell him all about my father and his farm. At length +I saw an absent look in his eye, and stopped talking, because I +thought he had ceased to listen. + +'Very well! very well!'said he. + +I looked up at him, not knowing what he meant. + +'Go on! Tell me all about it," 'he added. + +'I like the country best,'said he, when I had finished, 'because there +I see more truth in things. Here the lie has many forms - unique, +varied, ingenious. The rouge and powder on the lady's cheek - they +are lies, both of them; the baronial and ducal crests are lies and the +fools who use them are liars; the people who soak themselves in +rum have nothing but lies in their heads; the multitude who live by +their wits and the lack of them in others - they are all liars; the +many who imagine a vain thing and pretend to be what they are +not'liars everyone of them. It is bound to be so in the great cities, +and it is a mark of decay. The skirts of Elegabalus, the wigs and +rouge pots of Madame Pompadour, the crucifix of Machiavelli and +the innocent smile of Fernando Wood stand for something horribly +and vastly false in the people about them. For truth you ve got to +get back into the woods. You can find men there a good deal as +God made them' genuine, strong and simple. When those men +cease to come here you ll see grass growing in Broadway. + +I made no answer and the great commoner stirred his coffee a +moment in silence. + +'Vanity is the curse of cities,'he continued, 'and Flattery is its +handmaiden. Vanity, flattery and Deceit are the three disgraces. I +like a man to be what he is - out and out. If he's ashamed of +himself it won't be long before his friends ll be ashamed of him. +There's the trouble with this town. Many a fellow is pretending to +be what he isn t. A man cannot be strong unless he is genuine. + +One of his children - a little girl - came and stood close to him as +he spoke. He put his big arm around her and that gentle, permanent +smile of his broadened as he kissed her and patted her red cheek. + +'Anything new in the South?'Mrs Greeley enquired. + +'Worse and worse every day,'he said. 'Serious trouble comingl The +Charleston dinner yesterday was a feast of treason and a flow of +criminal rhetoric. The Union was the chief dish. Everybody +slashed it with his knife and jabbed it with his fork. It was +slaughtered, roasted, made into mincemeat and devoured. One +orator spoke of "rolling back the tide of fanaticism that finds its +root in the conscience of the people." Their metaphors are as bad +as their morals. + +He laughed heartily at this example of fervid eloquence, and then +we rose from the table. He had to go to the office that evening, and +I came away soon after dinner. I had nothing to do and went home +reflecting upon all the great man had said. + +I began shortly to see the truth of what he had told me - men +licking the hand of riches with the tongue of flattery men so +stricken with the itch of vanity that they grovelled for the touch of +praise; men even who would do perjury for applause. I do not say +that most of the men I saw were of that ilk, but enough to show the +tendency of life in a great town. + +1 was filled with wonder at first by meeting so many who had been +everywhere and seen everything, who had mastered all sciences +and all philosophies and endured many perils on land and sea. I +had met liars before - it was no Eden there in the north country - +and some of them had attained a good degree of efficiency, but +they lacked the candour and finish of the metropolitan school. I +confess they were all too much for me at first. They borrowed my +cash, they shared my confidence, they taxed my credulity, and I +saw the truth at last. + +'Tom's breaking down,'said a co4abourer on the staff one day. +'How is that?'I enquired. + +'Served me a mean irick. + +'Indeed! + +'Deceived me,'said he sorrowfully. + +'Lied, I suppose? + +'No. He told the truth, as God's my witness. + +Tom had been absolutely reliable up to that time. + +Chapter 36 + +Those were great days in mid autumn. The Republic was in grave +peril of dissolution. Liberty that had hymned her birth in the last +century now hymned her destiny in the voices of bard and orator. +Crowds of men gathered in public squares, at bulletin boards, on +street corners arguing, gesticulating, exclaiming and cursing. +Cheering multitudes went up and down the city by night, with +bands and torches, and there was such a howl of oratory and +applause on the lower half of Manhattan Island that it gave the +reporter no rest. William H. Seward, Charles Sumner, John A. Dix, +Henry Ward Beecher and Charles O Connor were the giants of the +stump. There was more violence and religious fervour in the +political feeling of that time than had been mingled since '76. A +sense of outrage was in the hearts of men. 'Honest Abe'Lincoln +stood, as they took it, for their homes and their country, for human +liberty and even for their God. + +I remember coming into the counting-room late one evening. Loud +voices had halted me as I passed the door. Mr Greeley stood back +of the counter; a rather tall, wiry grey-headed man before it. Each +was shaking a right fist under the other's nose. They were shouting +loudly as they argued. The stranger was for war; Mr Greeley for +waiting. The publisher of the Tribune stood beside the latter, +smoking a pipe; a small man leaned over the counter at the +stranger's elbow, putting in a word here and there; half a dozen +people stood by, listening. Mr Greeley turned to his publisher in a +moment. + +'Rhoades,'said he, 'I wish ye d put these men out. They holler 'n +yell, so I can't hear myself think. + +Then there was a general laugh. + +I learned to my surprise, when they had gone, that the tall man was +William H. Seward, the other John A. DiL + +Then one of those fevered days came the Prince of Wales - a +Godsend, to allay passion with curiosity. + +It was my duty to handle some of 'the latest news by magnetic +telegraph , and help to get the plans and progress of the campaign +at headquarters. The Printer, as they called Mr Greeley, was at his +desk when I came in at noon, never leaving the office but for +dinner, until past midnight, those days. And he made the Tribune a +mighty power in the state. His faith in its efficacy was sublime, +and every line went under his eye before it went to his readers. I +remember a night when he called me to his office about twelve o +clock. He was up to his knees in the rubbish of the day-newspapers +that he had read and thrown upon the floor; his desk was littered +with proofs. + +'Go an'see the Prince o'Wales,'he said. (That interesting young +man had arrived on the Harriet Lane that morning and ridden up +Broadway between cheering hosts.) 'I've got a sketch of him here +an'it's all twaddle. Tell us something new about him. If he's got a +hole in his sock we ought to know it. + +Mr Dana came in to see him while I was there. + +'Look here, Dana,'said the Printer, in a rasping humour. 'By the +gods of war! here's two colunms about that perfonnance at the +Academy and only two sticks of the speech of Seward at St Paul. I +ll have to get someone if go an'burn that theatre an'send the bill +to me. + +In the morning Mayor Wood introduced me to the Duke of +Newcastle, who in turn presented me to the Prince of Wales - then +a slim, blue-yed youngster of nineteen, as gentle mannered as any I +have ever met. It was my unpleasant duty to keep as near as +possible to the royal party in all the festivities of that week. + +The ball, in the Prince's honour, at the Academy of Music, was +one of the great social events of the century. No fair of vanity in +the western hemisphere ever quite equalled it. The fashions of the +French Court had taken the city, as had the Prince, by +unconditional surrender. Not in the palace of Versailles could one +have seen a more generous exposure of the charms of fair women. +None were admitted without a low-cut bodice, and many came that +had not the proper accessories. But it was the most brilliant +company New York had ever seen. + +Too many tickets had been distributed and soon 'there was an +elbow on every rib and a heel on every toe , as Mr Greeley put it. +Every miss and her mamma tiptoed for a view of the Prince and +his party, who came in at ten, taking their seats on a dais at one +side of the crowded floor. The Prince sat with his hands folded +before him, like one in a reverie. Beside him were the Duke of +Newcastle, a big, stern man, with an aggressive red beard; the +blithe and sparkling Earl of St Germans, then Steward of the Royal +Household; the curly Major Teasdale; the gay Bruce, a +major-general, who behaved himself always like a lady. Suddenly +the floor sank beneath the crowd of people, who retired in some +disorder. Such a compression of crinoline was never seen as at that +moment, when periphery pressed upon periphery, and held many a +man captive in the cold embrace of steel and whalebone. The royal +party retired to its rooms again and carpenters came in with saws +and hammers. The floor repaired, an area was roped off for +dancing - as much as could be spared. The Prince opened the +dance with Mrs Governor Morgan, after which other ladies were +honoured with his gallantry. + +I saw Mrs Fuller in one of the boxes and made haste to speak with +her. She had just landed, having left Hope to study a time in the +Conservatory of Leipzig. + +'Mrs Livingstone is with her,'said she, 'and they will return +together inApril. + +'Mrs Fuller, did she send any word to me?'I enquired anxiously. +'Did she give you no message? + +'None,'she said coldly, 'except one to her mother and father, which +I have sent in a letter to them. + +I left her heavy hearted, went to the reporter's table and wrote my +story, very badly I must admit, for I was cut deep with sadness. +Then I came away and walked for hours, not caring whither. A +great homesickness had come over me. I felt as if a talk with Uncle +Eb or Elizabeth + + Brower would have given me the comfort I needed. I walked +rapidly through dark, deserted streets. A steeple clock was striking +two, when I heard someone coming hurriedly on the walk behind +me. I looked over my shoulder, but could not make him out in the +darkness, and yet there was something familiar in the step. As he +came near I felt his hand upon my shoulder. + +'Better go home, Brower,'he said, as I recognised the voice of +Trumbull. 'You ve been out a long time. Passed you before tonight. + +'Why didn't you speak? + +'You were preoccupied. + +'Not keeping good hours yourself,'I said. + +'Rather late,'he answered, 'but I am a walker, and I love the night. +It is so still in this part of the town. + +We were passing the Five Points. + +'When do you sleep,'I enquired. + +'Never sleep at night,'he said, 'unless uncommonly tired. Out every +night more or less. Sleep two hours in the morning and two in the +afternoon - that's all I require. Seen the hands o'that clock yonder +on every hour of the night. + +He pointed to a lighted dial in a near tower. + +Stopping presently he looked down at a little waif asleep in a +doorway, a bundle of evening papers under his arm. He lifted him +tenderly. + +'Here, boy,'he said, dropping corns in the pocket of the ragged +little coat, 'I ll take those papers - you go home now. + +We walked to the river, passing few save members of 'the force , +who always gave Trumbull a cheery 'hello, Cap!'We passed +wharves where the great sea horses lay stalled, with harnesses +hung high above them, their noses nodding over our heads; we +stood awhile looking up at the looming masts, the lights of the +river craft. + +'Guess I've done some good,'said he turning into Peck Slip. 'Saved +two young women. Took 'em off the streets. Fine women now both +of them - respectable, prosperous, and one is beautiful. Man who s +got a mother, or a sister, can't help feeling sorry for such people. + +We came up Frankfort to William Street where we shook hands +and parted and I turned up Monkey Hill. I had made unexpected +progress with Trumbull that night. He had never talked to me so +freely before and somehow he had let me come nearer to hun than +I had ever hoped to be. His company had lifted me out of the +slough a little and my mind was on a better footing as I neared the +chalet. + +Riggs's shop was lighted - an unusual thing at so late an hour. +Peering through the window I saw Riggs sleeping at his desk An +old tin lantern sat near, its candle burning low, with a flaring +flame, that threw a spray of light upon him as it rose and fell. Far +back in the shop another light was burning dimly. I lifted the big +iron latch and pushed the door open. Riggs did not move. I closed +the door softly and went back into the gloom. The boy was also +sound asleep in his chair. The lantern light flared and fell again as +water leaps in a stopping fountain. As it dashed upon the face of +Riggs I saw his eyes half-open. I went close to his chair. As I did +so the light went out and smoke rose above the lantern with a rank +odour. + +'Riggs!'I called but he sat motionless and made no answer. + +The moonlight came through the dusty window lighting his face +and beard. I put my hand upon his brow and withdrew it quicidy. I +was in the presence of death. I opened the door and called the +sleeping boy. He rose out of his chair and came toward me rubbing +his eyes. + +'Your master is dead,'I whispered, 'go and call an officer. + +Riggs's dream was over - he had waked at last. He was in port and +I doubt not Annie and his mother were hailing him on the shore, +for I knew now they had both died far back in that long dream of +the old sailor. + +My story of Riggs was now complete. It soon found a publisher +because it was true. + +'All good things are true in literature,'said the editor after he had +read it. 'Be a servant of Truth always and you will be successful.' + +Chapter 37 + +As soon as Lincoln was elected the attitude of the South showed +clearly that 'the irrepressible conffict , of Mr Seward's naming, had +only just begun. The Herald gave columns every day to the news of +'the coming Revolution , as it was pleased to call it. There was +loud talk of war at and after the great Pine Street meeting of +December 15. South Carolina seceded, five days later, and then we +knew what was coming, albeit, we saw only the dim shadow of +that mighty struggle that was to shake the earth for nearly five +years. The Printer grew highly irritable those days and spoke of +Buchanan and Davis and Toombs in language so violent it could +never have been confined in type. But while a bitter foe none was +more generous than he and, when the war was over, his money +went to bail the very man he had most roundly damned. + +I remember that one day, when he was sunk deep in composition, a +negro came and began with grand airs to make a request as +delegate from his campaign club. The Printer sat still, his eyes +close to the paper, his pen flying at high speed. The coloured +orator went on lifting his voice in a set petition. Mr Greeley bent to +his work as the man waxed eloquent. A nervous movement now +and then betrayed the Printer's irritation. He looked up, shortly, his +face kindling with anger. + +'Help! For God's sake!'he shrilled impatiently, his hands flying in +the air. The Printer seemed to be gasping for breath. + +'Go and stick your head out of the window and get through,'he +shouted hotly to the man. + +He turned to his writing - a thing dearer to him than a new bone to +a hungry dog. + +'Then you may come and tell me what you want,'he added in a +milder tone. + +Those were days when men said what they meant and their +meaning had more fight in it than was really polite or necessary. +Fight was in the air and before I knew it there was a wild, +devastating spirit in my own bosom, insomuch that I made haste to +join a local regiment. It grew apace but not until I saw the first +troops on their way to the war was I fully determined to go and +give battle with my regiment. + +The town was afire with patriotism. Sumter had fallen; Lincoln +had issued his first call. The sound of the fife and drum rang in the +streets. Men gave up work to talk and listen or go into the sterner +business of war. Then one night in April, a regiment came out of +New England, on its way to the front. It lodged at the Astor House +to leave at nine in the morning. Long before that hour the building +was flanked and fronted with tens of thousands, crowding +Broadway for three blocks, stuffing the wide mouth of Park Row +and braced into Vesey and Barday Streets. My editor assigned me +to this interesting event. I stood in the crowd, that morning, and +saw what was really the beginning of the war in New York. There +was no babble of voices, no impatient call, no sound of idle jeering +such as one is apt to hear in a waiting crowd. It stood silent, each +man busy with the rising current of his own emotions, solemnified +by the faces all around him. The soldiers ified out upon the +pavement, the police having kept a way clear for them, Still there +was silence in the crowd save that near me I could hear a man +sobbing. A trumpeter lifted his bugle and sounded a bar of the +reveille. The clear notes clove the silent air, flooding every street +about us with their silver sound. Suddenly the band began playing. +The tune was Yankee Doodle. A wild, dismal, tremulous cry came +out of a throat near me. It grew arid spread to a mighty roar and +then such a shout went up to Heaven, as I had never heard, and as I +know full well I shall never hear again. It was like the riving of +thunderbolts above the roar of floods - elemental, prophetic, +threatening, ungovernable. It did seem to me that the holy wrath of +God Almighty was in that cry of the people. It was a signal. It +declared that they were ready to give all that a man may give for +that he loves - his life and things far dearer to him than his life. +After that, they and their sons begged for a chance to throw +themselves into the hideous ruin of war. + +I walked slowly back to the office and wrote my article. When. the +Printer came in at twelve I went to his room before he had had +time to begin work + +'Mr Greeley,'I said, 'here is my resignation. I am going to the war. + +His habitual smile gave way to a sober look as he turned to me, his +big white coat on his arm. He pursed his lips and blew +thoughtfully. Then he threw his coat in a chair and wiped his eyes +with his handkerchief. + +'Well! God bless you, my boy,'he said. 'I wish I could go, too. + +Chapter 38 + +I worked some weeks before my regiment was sent forward. I +planned to be at home for a day, but they needed me on the staff, +and I dreaded the pain of a parting, the gravity of which my return +would serve only to accentuate. So I wrote them a cheerful letter, +and kept at work. It was my duty to interview some of the great +men of that day as to the course of the government. I remember +Commodore Vanderbilt came down to see me in shirt-sleeves and +slippers that afternoon, with a handkerchief tied about his neck in +place of a collar - a blunt man, of simple manners and a big heart, +one who spoke his mind in good, plain talk, and, I suppose, he got +along with as little profanity as possible, considering his many +cares. He called me 'boy'and spoke of a certain public man as a +'big sucker . I soon learned that to him a 'sucker'was the lowest +and meanest thing in the world. He sent me away with nothing but +a great admiration of him. As a rule, the giants of that day were +plain men of the people, with no frills upon them, and with a way +of hitting from the shoulder. They said what they meant and meant +it hard. I have heard Lincoln talk when his words had the whiz of a +bullet and his arm the jerk of a piston. + +John Trumbull invited McClingan, of whom I had told him much, +and myself to dine with him an evening that week. I went in my +new dress suit - that mark of sinful extravagance for which Fate +had brought me down to the pounding of rocks under Boss +McCormick. Trumbull's rooms were a feast for the eye - aglow +with red roses. He introduced me to Margaret Hull and her mother, +who were there to dine with us. She was a slight woman of thirty +then, with a face of no striking beauty, but of singular sweetness. +Her dark eyes had a mild and tender light in them; her voice a +plaintive, gentle tone, the like of which one may hear rarely if +ever. For years she had been a night worker in the missions of the +lower city, and many an unfortunate had been turned from the way +of evil by her good offices. I sat beside her at the table, and she +told me of her work and how often she had met Trumbull in his +night walks. + +'Found me a hopeless heathen,'he remarked. + +'To save him I had to consent to marry him,'she said, laughing. + +'"Who hath found love is already in Heaven,"'said McClingan. 'I +have not found it and I am in'' he hesitated, as if searching for a +synonym. + +'A boarding house on William Street,'he added. + +The remarkable thing about Margaret Hull was her simple faith. It +looked to no glittering generality for its reward, such as the soul s +'highest good much talked of in the philosophy of that time. She +believed that, for every soul she saved, one jewel would be added +to her crown in Heaven. And yet she wore no jewel upon her +person. Her black costume was beautifully fitted to her fine form, +but was almost severely plain. It occurred to me that she did not +quite understand her own heart, and, for that matter, who does? +But she had somewhat in her soul that passeth all understanding - I +shall not try to say what, with so little knowledge of those high +things, save that I know it was of God. To what patience and +unwearying effort she had schooled herself I was soon to know. + +'Can you not find anyone to love you?'she said, turning to +McClingan. 'You know the Bible says it is not good for man to live +alone. + +'It does, Madame,'said he, 'but I have a mighty fear in me, +remembering the twenty-fourth verse of the twenty-fifth chapter of +Proverbs: "It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetops than +with a brawling woman in a wide house." We cannot all be so +fortunate as our friend Trumbull. But I have felt the great passion. + +He smiled at her faintly as he spoke in a quiet manner, his r s +coming off his tongue with a stately roll. His environment and the +company had given him a fair degree of stimulation. There was a +fine dignity in his deep voice, and his body bristled with it, from +his stiff and heavy shock of blonde hair parted carefully on the left +side, to his high-heeled boots. The few light hairs that stood in +lonely abandonment on his upper lip, the rest of his lean visage +always well shorn, had no small part in the grand effect of +McClingan. + +'A love story!'said Miss Hull. 'I do wish I had your confidence. I +like a real, true love story. + +'A simple stawry it is,'said McClingan, 'and Jam proud of my part +in it. I shall be glad to tell the stawry if you are to hear it. + +We assured him of our interest. + +'Well,'said he, 'there was one Tom Douglass at Edinburgh who +was my friend and dassmate. We were together a good bit of the +time, and when we had come to the end of our course we both +went to engage in journalism at Glasgow. We had a mighty conceit +of ourselves - you know how it is, Brower, with a green lad - but +we were a mind to be modest, with all our learning, so we made an +agreement: I would blaw his horn and he would blaw mine. We +were not to lack appreciation. He was on one paper and I on +another, and every time he wrote an article I went up and down the +office praising him for a man o'mighty skill, and he did the same +for me. If anyone spoke of him in my hearing I said every word of +flattery at my command. "What Tom Douglass?" I would say, "the +man o'the Herald that's written those wonderful articles from the +law court? A genius, sir! an absolute genius!" Well, we were +rapidly gaining reputation. One of those days I found myself in +love with as comely a lass as ever a man courted. Her mother had a +proper curiosity as to my character. I referred them to Tom +Douglass of the Herald - he was the only man there who had +known me well. The girl and her mother both went to him. + +"Your friend was just here," said the young lady, when I called +again. "He is a very handsome man." + +'"And a noble man!" I said. + +"And didn t I hear you say that he was a very skilful man, too?" + +'"A genius!" I answered, "an absolute genius!" + +McClingan stopped and laughed heartily as he took a sip of water. + +'What happened then?'said Miss I-lull. + +'She took him on my recommendation,'he answered. 'She said +that, while he had the handsomer face, I had the more eloquent +tongue. And they both won for him. And, upon me honour as a +gentleman, it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, for +she became a brawler and a scold. My mother says there is "no the +like o'her in Scotland". + +I shall never forget how fondly Margaret Hull patted the brown +cheek of Trumbull with her delicate white band, as we rose. + +'We all have our love stawries,'said McClingan. + +'Mine is better than yours,'she answered, 'but it shall never be told. + +'Except one little part if it,'said Trumbull, as he put his hands +upon her shoulders, and looked down into her face. 'It is the only +thing that has made my life worth living. + +Then she made us to know many odd things about her work for the +children of misfortune - inviting us to come and see it for +ourselves. We were to go the next evening. + +I finished my work at nine that night and then we walked through +noisome streets and alleys - New York was then far from being so +clean a city as now - to the big mission house. As we came in at +the door we saw a group of women kneeling before the altar at the +far end of the room, and heard the voice of Margaret Hull praying' +a voice so sweet and tender that we bowed our heads at once, and +listened while it quickened the life in us. She plead for the poor +creatures about her, to whom Christ gave always the most +abundant pity, seeing they were more sinned against than sinning. +There was not a word of cant in her petition. It was full of a +simple, unconscious eloquence, a higher feeling than I dare try to +define. And when it was over she had won'their love and +confidence so that they clung to her hands and kissed them and +wet them with their tears. She came and spoke to us presently, in +the same sweet manner that had charmed us the night before' +there was no change in it We offered to walk home with her, but +she said Trumbull was coming at twelve. + +'So that is "The Little Mother" of whom I have heard so often,'said +McClingan, as we came away. + +'What do you think of her?'I enquired. + +'Wonderful woman!'he said. 'I never heard such a voice. It gives +me visions. Every other is as the crackling of thorns under a pot + +I came back to the office and went into Mr Greeley's room to bid +him goodbye. He stood by the gas jet, in a fine new suit of clothes, +reading a paper, while a boy was blacking one of his boots. I sat +down, awaiting a more favourable moment. A very young man had +come into the room and stood timidly holding his hat. + +'I wish to see Mr Greeley,'he said. + +'There he is,'I answered, 'go and speak to him. + +'Mr Greeley,'said he, 'I have called to see if you can'take me on +the Tribune. + +The Printer continued reading as if he were the only man in the +room. + +The young man looked at him and then at me - with an expression +that moved me to a fellow feeling. He was a country boy, more +green and timid even than I had been. + +'He did not hear you - try again,'I said. + +'Mr Greeley,'said he, louder than before, 'I have called to see if +you can'take me on the Tribune. + +The editor's eyes glanced off at the boy and returned to their +reading. + +'No, boy, I can't,'he drawled, shifting his eyes to another article. +And the boy, who was called to the service of the paper in time, +but not until after his pen had made him famous, went away with a +look of bitter disappointment. + +In his attire Mr Greeley wore always the best material, that soon +took on a friendless and dejected look. The famous white overcoat +had been bought for five dollars of a man who had come by chance +to the office of the New Yorker, years before, and who considered +its purchase a great favour. That was a time when the price of a +coat was a thing of no little importance to the Printer. Tonight +there was about him a great glow, such as comes of fine tailoring +and new linen. + +He was so preoccupied with his paper that I went out into the big +room and sat down, awaiting a better time. + +'The Printer's going to Washington to talk with the president,'said +an editor. + +Just then Mr Greeley went running hurriedly up the spiral stair on +his way to the typeroom. Three or four compositors had gone up +ahead of him. He had risen out of sight when we heard a +tremendous uproar above stairs. I ran up, two steps at a time, while +the high voice of Mr Greeley came pouring down upon me like a +flood. It had a wild, fleering tone. He stood near the landing, +swinging his arms and swearing like a boy just learning how. In +the middle of the once immaculate shirt bosom was a big, yellow +splash. Something had fallen on him and spattered as it struck We +stood well out of range, looking at it, undeniably the stain of +nicotine. In a voice that was no encouragement to confession he +dared 'the drooling idiot'to declare himself. In a moment he +opened his waistcoat and surveyed the damage. + +'Look at that!'he went on, complainingly. 'Ugh! The reeking, +filthy, slobbering idiot! I d rather be slain with the jaw bone of an +ass. + +'You ll have to get another shirt,'said the pressman, who stood +near. 'You can't go to Washington with such a breast pin. + +'I'd breast pin him if I knew who he was,'said the editor.' + +A number of us followed him downstairs and a young man went +up the Bowery for a new shirt. When it came the Printer took off +the soiled gannent, flinging it into a corner, and I helped him to put +himself in proper fettle again. This finished, he ran away, +hurriedly, with his carpet-bag, and I missed the opportunity I +wanted for a brief talk with him. + +Chapter 39 + +My regiment left New York by night in a flare of torch and rocket. +The streets were lined with crowds now hardened to the sound of +fife and drum and the pomp of military preparation. I had a very +high and mighty feeling in me that wore away in the discomfort of +travel. For hours after the train started we sang and told stories, +and ate peanuts and pulled and hauled at each other in a cloud of +tobacco smoke. The train was sidetracked here and there, and +dragged along at a slow pace. + +Young men with no appreciation, as it seemed to me, of the sad +business we were off upon, went roistering up and down the aisles, +drinking out of bottles and chasing around the train as it halted. +These revellers grew quiet as the night wore on. The boys began to +dose their eyes and lie back for rest. Some lay in the aisle. their +heads upon their knapsacks. The air grew chilly and soon I could +hear them snoring all about me and the chatter of frogs in the near +marshes. I closed my eyes and vainly courted sleep. A great +sadness had lain hold of me. I had already given up my life for my +country - I was only going away now to get as dear a price for it as +possible in the hood of its enemies. When and where would it be +taken? I wondered. The fear had mostly gone out of me in days and +nights of solemn thinking. The feeling I had, with its flavour of +religion, is what has made the volunteer the mighty soldier he has +ever been, I take it, since Naseby and Marston Moor. The soul is +the great Captain, and with a just quarrel it will warm its sword in +the enemy, however he may be trained to thrust and parry. In my +sacrifice there was but one reservation - I hoped I should not be +horribly cut with a sword or a bayonet. I had written a long letter +to Hope, who was yet at Leipzig. I wondered if she would care +what became of me. I got a sense of comfort thinking I would +show her that I was no coward, with all my littleness. I had not +been able to write to Uncle Eb or to my father or mother in any +serious tone of my feeling in this enterprise. I had treated it as a +kind of holiday from which I should return shortly to visit them. + +All about me seemed to be sleeping - some of them were talking in +their dreams. As it grew light, one after another rose and stretched +himself, rousing his seat companion. The train halted, a man shot +a musket voice in at the car door. It was loaded with the many +syllables of 'Annapolis Junction . We were pouring out of the train +shortly, to bivouac for breakfastin the depot yard. So I began the +life of a soldier, and how it ended with me many have read in +better books than this, but my story of it is here and only here. + +We went into camp there on the lonely flats of east Maryland for a +day or two, as we supposed, but really for quite two weeks. In the +long delay that followed, my way traversed the dead levels of +routine. When Southern sympathy had ceased to wreak its wrath +upon the railroads about Baltimore we pushed on to Washington. +There I got letters from Uncle Eb and Elizabeth Brower. The +former I have now in my box of treasures - a torn and faded +remnant of that dark period. + +DEAR SIR'pen in hand to hat you know that we are all wel. also +that we was sorry you could not come horn. They took on terribul. +Hope she wrote a letter. Said she had not herd from you. also that +somebody wrote to her you was goin to be married. You had +oughter write her a letter, Bill. Looks to me so you hain't used her +right. Shes a comm horn in July. Sowed corn to day in the gardin. +David is off byin catul. I hope God will take care uv you, boy, so +goodbye from yours truly + +EBEN HOLDEN + +I wrote immediately to Unde Eb and told him of the letters I had +sent to Hope, and of my effort to see her. + +Late in May, after Virginia had seceded, some thirty thousand of +us were sent over to the south side of the Potomac, where for +weeks we tore the flowery fields, lining the shore with long +entrenchments. + +Meantime I wrote three letters to Mr Greeley, and had the +satisfaction of seeing them in the Tribune. I took much interest in +the camp drill, and before we crossed the river I had been raised to +the rank of first lieutenant. Every day we were looking for the big +army of Beauregard, camping below Centreville, some thirty miles +south. + +Almost every night a nervous picket set the camp in uproar by +challenging a phantom of his imagination. We were all impatient +as hounds in leash. Since they would not come up and give us +battle we wanted to be off and have it out with them. And the +people were tired of delay. The cry of 'ste'boy!'was ringing all +over the north. They wanted to cut us loose and be through with +dallying. + +Well, one night the order came; we were to go south in the +morning - thirty thousand of us, and put an end to the war. We did +not get away until afternoon - it was the 6th of July. When we +were off, horse and foot, so that I could see miles of the blue +column before and behind me, I felt sorry for the mistaken South. +On the evening of the i8th our camp-fires on either side of the pike +at Centreville glowed like the lights of a city. We knew the enemy +was near, and began to feel a tightening of the nerves. I wrote a +letter to the folks at home for post mortem delivery, and put it into +my trousers'pocket. A friend in my company called me aside after +mess. + +'Feel of that,'he said, laying his hand on a full breast. + +'Feathers!'he whispered significantly. 'Balls can't go through 'em, +ye know. Better n a steel breastplate! Want some? + +'Don't know but I do,'said I. + +We went into his tent, where he had a little sack full, and put a +good wad of them between my two shirts. + +'I hate the idee o'bein'hit 'n the heart,'he said. 'That's too awful. + +I nodded my assent. + +'Shouldn't like t'have a ball in my lungs, either,'he added. ' 'Tain't +necessary fer a man t'die if he can only breathe. If a man gits his +leg shot off an'don't lose his head an'keeps drawin'his breath +right along smooth an even, I don't see why he can't live. + +Taps sounded. We went asleep with our boots on, but nothing +happened. + +Three days and nights we waited. Some called it a farce, some +swore, some talked of going home. I went about quietly, my bosom +under its pad of feathers. The third day an order came from +headquarters. We were to break camp at one-thirty in the morning +and go down the pike after Beauregard. In the dead of the night the +drums sounded. I rose, half-asleep, and heard the long roll far and +near. I shivered in the cold night air as I made ready, the boys +about me buckled on knapsacks, shouldered their rifles, and fell +into line. Muffled in darkness there was an odd silence in the great +caravan forming rapidly and waiting for the word to move. At each +command to move forward I could hear only the rub of leather, the +click, click of rifle rings, the stir of the stubble, the snorting of +horses. When we had marched an hour or so I could hear the faint +rumble of wagons far in the rear. As I came high on a hill top, in +the bending column, the moonlight fell upon a league of bayonets +shining above a cloud of dust in the valley - a splendid picture, +fading into darkness and mystery. At dawn we passed a bridge and +halted some three minutes for a bite. After a little march we left +the turnpike, with Hunter's column bearing westward on a +crossroad that led us into thick woods. As the sunlight sank in the +high tree-tops the first great battle of the war began. Away to the +left of us a cannon shook the earth, hurling its boom into the still +air. The sound rushed over us, rattling in the timber like a fall of +rocks. Something went quivering in me. It seemed as if my vitals +had gone into a big lump of jelly that trembled every step I took. +We quickened our pace; we fretted, we complained. The weariness +went out of our legs; some wanted to run. Before and behind us +men were shouting hotly, 'Run, boys! run!'The cannon roar was +now continuous. We could feel the quake of it. When we came +over a low ridge, in the open, we could see the smoke of battle in +the valley. Flashes of fire and hoods of smoke leaped out of the far +thickets, left of us, as cannon roared. Going at double quick we +began loosening blankets and haversacks, tossing them into heaps +along the line of march, without halting. In half an hour we stood +waiting in battalions, the left flank of the enemy in front. We were +to charge at a run. Half-way across the valley we were to break +into companies and, advancing, spread into platoons and squads, +and at last into line of skirmishers, lying down for cover between +rushes. + +'Forward!'was the order, and we were off, cheering as we ran. O, it +was a grand sight! our colours flying, our whole front moving, like +a blue wave on a green, immeasurable sea. And it had a voice like +that of many waters. Out of the woods ahead of us came a +lightning flash. A ring of smoke reeled upward. Then came a +deafening crash of thunders - one upon another, and the scream of +shells overhead. Something stabbed into our column right beside +me. Many went headlong, crying out as they fell. Suddenly the +colours seemed to halt and sway like a tree-top in the wind. Then +down they went! - squad and colours - and we spread to pass them. +At the order we halted and laid down and fired volley after volley +at the grey coats in the edge of the thicket A bullet struck in the +grass ahead of me, throwing a bit of dirt into my eyes. Another +brushed my hat off and I heard a wailing death yell behind me. The +colonel rode up waving a sword. + +'Get up an' charge!'he shouted. + +On we went, cheering loudly, firing as we ran, Bullets went by me +hissing in my ears, and I kept trying to dodge them. We dropped +again flat on our faces. + +A squadron of black-horse cavalry came rushing out of the woods +at us, the riders yelling as they waved their swords. Fortunately we +had not time to rise. A man near me tried to get up. + +'Stay down!'I shouted. + +In a moment I learned something new about horses. They went +over us like a flash. I do not think a man was trampled. Our own +cavalry kept them busy as soon as they had passed. + +Of the many who had started there was only a ragged remnant near +me. We fired a dozen volleys lying there. The man at my elbow +rolled upon me, writhing like a worm in the fire. + +'We shall all be killed!'a man shouted. 'Where is the colonel? + +'Dead,'said another. + +'Better retreat,'said a third. + +'Charge!'I shouted as loudly as ever I could, jumping to my feet +and waving my sabre as I rushed forward. 'Charge! + +It was the one thing needed - they followed me. In a moment we +had hurled ourselves upon the grey line thrusting with sword and +bayonet. + +They broke before us - some running, some fighting desperately. + +A man threw a long knife at inc out of a sling. Instinctively I +caught the weapon as if it had been a ball hot off the bat. In doing +so I dropped my sabre and was cut across the fingers. He came at +me fiercely, clubbing his gun - a raw-boned, swarthy giant, broad +as a barn door. I caught the barrel as it came down. He tried to +wrench it away, but I held firmly. Then he began to push up to me. +I let him come, and in a moment we were grappling hip and thigh. +He was a powerful man, but that was my kind of warfare. It gave +me comfort when I felt the grip of his hands. I let him tug a jiffy, +and then caught him with the old hiplock, and he went under me +so hard I could hear the crack of his bones. Our support came then. +We made him prisoner, with some two hundred other men. +Reserves came also and took away the captured guns. My +comrades gathered about me, cheering, but I had no suspicion of +what they meant. I thought it a tribute to my wrestling. Men lay +thick there back of the guns - some dead, some caffing faintly for +help. The red puddles about them were covered with ffies; ants +were crawling over their faces. I felt a kind of sickness and turned +away. + +What was left of my regiment formed in fours to join the +advancing column. Horses were galloping riderless, rein and +stirrup flying, some horribly wounded. One hobbled near me, a +front leg gone at the knee. + +Shells were flying overhead; cannonballs were ricocheting over the +level valley, throwing turf in the air, tossing the dead and wounded +that lay thick and helpless. + +Some were crumpled like a rag, as if the pain of death had +withered them in their clothes; some swollen to the girth of horses; +some bent backward, with anns outreaching like one trying an odd +trick, some lay as if listening eagerly, an ear close to the ground; +some like a sleeper, their heads upon their arms; one shrieked +loudly, gesturing with bloody hands, 'Lord God Almighty, have +mercy on me! + +I had come suddenly to a new world, where the lives of men were +cheaper than blind puppies. I was a new sort of creature, and +reckless of what came, careless of all I saw and heard. + +A staff officer stepped up to me as we joined the main body. + +'You ve been shot, young man,'he said, pointing to my left hand. + +Before he could turn I felt a rush of air and saw him fly into +pieces, some of which hit me as I fell backward. I did not know +what had happened; I know not now more than that I have written. +I remember feeling something under me, like a stick of wood, +bearing hard upon my ribs. I tried to roll off it, but somehow, it +was tied to me and kept hurting. I put my hand over my hip and +felt it there behind me - my own arm! The hand was like that of a +dead man - cold and senseless. I pulled it from under me and it lay +helpless; it could not lift itself. I knew now that I, too, had become +one of the bloody horrors of the battle. + +I struggled to my feet, weak and trembling, and sick with nausea. I +must have been lying there a long time. The firing was now at a +distance: the sun had gone half down the sky. They were picking +up the wounded in the near field. A man stood looking at me. +'Good God!'he shouted, and then ran away like one afraid. There +was a great mass of our men back of me some twenty rods. I +staggered toward them, my knees quivering. + +'I can never get there,'I heard myself whisper. + +I thought of my little flask of whiskey, and, pulling the cork with +my teeth, drank the half of it. That steadied me and I made better +headway. I could hear the soldiers talking as I neared them. + +'Look a there!'I heard many saying. 'See 'em come! My God! Look +at 'em on the hill there! + +The words went quicidy from mouth to mouth. In a moment I +could hear the murmur of thousands. I turned to see what they +were looking at. Across the valley there was a long ridge, and back +of it the main position of the Southern army. A grey host was +pouring over it - thousand upon thousand - in close order, +debouching into the valley. + +A big force of our men lay between us and them. As I looked I +could see a mighty stir in it. Every man of them seemed to be +jumping up in the air. From afar came the sound of bugles calling +'retreat , the shouting of men, the rumbling of wagons. It grew +louder. An officer rode by me hatless, and halted, shading his eyes. +Then he rode back hurriedly. + +'Hell has broke loose!'he shouted, as he passed me. + +The blue-coated host was rushing towards us like a flood' +artillery, cavalry, infantry, wagon train. There was a mighty uproar +in the men behind me - a quick stir of feet. Terror spread over +them like the travelling of fire. It shook their tongues. The crowd +began caving at the edge and jamming at the centre. Then it spread +like a swarm of bees shaken off a bush. + +'Run! Run for your lives!'was a cry that rose to heaven. + +'Halt, you cowards!'an officer shouted. + +It was now past three o clock. + +The raw army had been on its feet since midnight. For hours it had +been fighting hunger, a pain in the legs, a quivering sickness at the +stomach, a stubborn foe. It had turned the flank of Beauregard; +victory was in sight. But lo! a new enemy was coming to the fray, +innumerable, unwearied, eager for battle. The long slope bristled +with his bayonets. Our army looked and cursed and began letting +go. The men near me were pausing on the brink of awful rout In a +moment they were off, pell-mell, like a flock of sheep. The earth +shook under them. Officers rode around them, cursing, +gesticulating, threatening, but nothing could stop them. Half a +dozen trees had stood in the centre of the roaring mass. Now a few +men clung to them - a remnant of the monster that had torn away. +But the greater host was now coming. The thunder of its many feet +was near me; a cloud of dust hung over it. A squadron of cavalry +came rushing by and broke into the fleeing mass. Heavy horses, +cut free from artillery, came galloping after them, straps flying +over foamy flanks. Two riders clung to the back of each, lashing +with whip and rein. The nick of wagons came after them, wheels +rattling, horses running, voices shrilling in a wild hoot of terror. It +makes me tremble even now, as I think of it, though it is muffled +under the cover of nearly forty years! I saw they would go over me. +Reeling as if drunk, I ran to save myself. Zigzagging over the field +I came upon a grey-bearded soldier lying in the grass and fell +headlong. I struggled madly, but could not rise to my feet. I lay, +my face upon the ground, weeping like a woman. Save I be lost in +hell, I shall never know again the bitter pang of that moment. I +thought of my country. I saw its splendid capital in ruins; its +people surrendered to God's enemies. + +The rout of wagons had gone by I could now hear the heavy tramp +of thousands passing me, the shrill voices of terror. I worked to a +sitting posture somehow - the effort nearly smothered me. A mass +of cavalry was bearing down upon me. They were coming so thick +I saw they would trample me into jelly. In a flash I thought of what +Uncle Eb had told me once. I took my hat and covered my face +quiddy, and then uncovered it as they came near. They sheared +away as I felt the foam of their nostrils. I had split them as a rock +may split the torrent. The last of them went over me - their tails +whipping my face. I shall not soon forget the look of their bellies +or the smell of their wet flanks. They had no sooner passed than I +fell back and rolled half over like a log. I could feel a warm flow +of blood trickling down my left arm. A shell, shot at the retreating +army, passed high above me, whining as it flew. Then my mind +went free of its trouble. The rain brought me to as it came pelting +down upon the side of my face. I wondered what it might be, for I +knew not where I had come. I lifted my head and looked to see a +new dawn - possibly the city of God itself. It was dark - so dark I +felt as if I had no eyes. Away in the distance I could hear the +beating of a drum. It rang in a great silence - I have never known +the like of it. I could hear the fall and trickle of the rain, but it +seemed only to deepen the silence. I felt the wet grass under my +face and hands. Then I knew it was night and the battlefield where +I had fallen. I was alive and might see another day - thank God! I +felt something move under my feet I heard a whisper at my +shoulder. + +'Thought you were dead long ago,'it said. + +'No, no,'I answered, 'I m alive - I know I m alive - this is the +battlefield. + +''Fraid I ain't goin't'live,'he said. 'Got a terrible wound. Wish it +was morning. + +'Dark long?'I asked. + +'For hours,'he answered. 'Dunno how many. + +He began to groan and utter short prayers. + +'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the +morning,'I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice. + +Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him +whispering of his home and people. + +Presently he began to sing: + +'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah! Pilgrim through this barren land + +I am weak but thou art mighty' + +Ills voice broke and trembled and sank into silence. + +I had business of my own to look after - perhaps I had no time to +lose - and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and +began to feel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It +chilled me to the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I +called to the man who lay beside me - again and again I called to +him - but got no answer. Then I knew that he was dead and I alone. +Long after that in the far distance I heard a voice calling. It rang +like a trumpet in the still air. It grew plainer as I listened. My own +name! William Brower? It was certainly calling to me, and I +answered with a feeble cry. In a moment I could hear the tramp of +someone coming. He was sitting beside me presently, whoever it +might be. I could not see him for the dark. His tongue went +clucking as if he pitied me. + +'Who are you?'I remember asking, but got no answer. + +At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him. + +In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of +his step seemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I +groaned he ran. I could see nothing in the darkness, but he went +ahead, never stopping, save for a moment, now and then, to rest I +wondered where he was taking me and what it all meant. I called +again, 'Who are you? + +but he seemed not to hear me. 'My God!'I whispered to myself, +'this is no man - this is Death severing the soul from the body. The +voice was that of the good God.'Then I heard a man hailing near +by. + +'Help, Help!'I shouted faintly. + +'Where are you?'caine the answer, now further away. 'Can't see +you.'My mysterious bearer was now running. My heels were +dragging upon the ground; my hands were brushing the grass tops. +I groaned with pain. + +'Halt! Who comes there?'a picket called. Then I could hear voices. + +'Did you hear that noise?'said one. 'Somebody passed me. So dark +can't see my hand before me. + +'Darker than hell!'said another voice. + +It must be a giant, I thought, who can pick me up and carry me as +if I were no bigger than a house cat. That was what I was thinking +when I swooned. + +From then till I came to myself in the little church at Centreville I +remember nothing. Groaning men lay all about me; others stood +between them with lanterns. A woman was bending over me. I felt +the gentle touch of her hand upon my face and heard her speak to +me so tenderly I cannot think of it, even now, without thanking +God for good women. I clung to her hand, clung with the energy of +one drowning, while I suffered the merciful torture of the probe, +the knife and the needle. And when it was all over and the lantern +lights grew pale in the dawn I fell asleep. + +But enough of blood and horror. War is no holiday, my merry +people, who know not the mighty blessing of peace. Counting the +cost, let us have war, if necessary, but peace, peace if possible. + +Chapter 40 + +But now I have better things to write of'things that have some +relish of good in them. I was very weak and low from loss of blood +for days, and, suddenly, the tide turned. I had won recognition for +distinguished gallantry they told me - that day they took me to +Washington. I lay three weeks there in the hospital. As soon as +they heard of my misfortune at home Uncle Eb wrote he was +coming to see me. I stopped him by a telegram, assuring him that I +was nearly well and would be home shortly. + +My term of enlistment had expired when they let me out a fine day +in mid August. I was going home for a visit as sound as any man +but, in the horse talk of Faraway, I had a little 'blemish'on the left +shoulder. Uncle Eb was to meet me at the jersey City depot. +Before going I, with others who had been complimented for +bravery, went to see the president. There were some twenty of us +summoned to meet him that day. It was warm and the great +Lincoln sat in his shirt-sleeves at a desk in the middle of his big +office. He wore a pair of brown carpet slippers, the rolling collar +and black stock now made so familiar in print. His hair was +tumbled. He was writing hurriedly when we came in. He laid his +pen away and turned to us without speaking. There was a careworn +look upon his solemn face. + +'Mr President,'said the general, who had come with us, 'here are +some of the brave men of our army, whom you wished to see. + +He came and shook hands with each and thanked us in the name of +the republic, for the example of courage and patriotism we and +many others had given to the army. He had a lean, tall, ungraceful +figure and he spoke his mind without any frill or flourish. He said +only a few words of good plain talk and was done with us. + +'Which is Brower?'he enquired presently. + +I came forward more scared than ever I had been before. + +'My son,'he said, taking my hand in his, 'why didn t you run?' + +'Didn't dare,'I answered. 'I knew it was more dangerous to run +away than to go forward.' + +'Reminds me of a story,'said he smiling. 'Years ago there was a +bully in Sangamon County, Illinois, that had the reputation of +running faster and fighting harder than any man there. Everybody +thought he was a terrible fighter. He d always get a man on the +run; then he d ketch up and give him a licking. One day he tadded +a lame man. The lame man licked him in a minute. + +'"Why didn't ye run?" somebody asked the victor. + +'"Didn't dast," said he. "Run once when he tackled me an I've been +lame ever since." + +"How did ye manage to lick him?" said the other. + +'"Wall," said he, "I hed to, an'I done it easy." + +'That's the way it goes,'said the immortal president, 'ye do it easy +if ye have to. + +He reminded me in and out of Horace Greeley, although they +looked no more alike than a hawk and a handsaw. But they had a +like habit of forgetting themselves and of saying neither more nor +less than they meant. They both had the strength of an ox and as +little vanity. Mr Greeley used to say that no man could amount to +anything who worried much about the fit of his trousers; neither of +them ever encountered that obstacle. + +Early next morning I took a train for home. I was in soldier clothes + I had with me no others - and all in my car came to talk with me +about the now famous battle of Bull Run. + +The big platform atjersey City was crowded with many people as +we got off the train. There were other returning soldiers - some +with crutches, some with empty sleeves. + +A band at the further end of the platform was playing and those +near me were singing the familiar music, + +'John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave. + +Somebody shouted my name. Then there rose a cry of three cheers +for Brower. It's some of the boys of the Tribune, I thought - I +could see a number of them in the crowd. One brought me a basket +of flowers. I thought they were trying to have fun with me. + +'Thank you!'said I, 'but what is the joke?' + +'No joke,'he said. 'It's to honour a hero.' + +'Oh, you wish me to give it to somebody.' + +I was warming with embarrassment + +'We wish you to keep it,'he answered. + +In accounts of the battle I had seen some notice of my leading a +charge but my fame had gone farther - much farther indeed - than I +knew. I stood a moment laughing - an odd sort of laugh it was that +had in it the salt of tears - and waving my hand to the many who +were now calling my name. + +In the uproar of cheers and waving of handkerchiefs I could not +find Uncle Eb for a moment. When I saw him in the breaking +crowd he was cheering lustily and waving his hat above his head. +His enthusiasm increased when I stood before him. As 1 was +greeting him I heard a lively rustle of skirts. Two dainty, gloved +hands laid hold of mine; a sweet voice spoke my name. There, +beside me, stood the tall, erect figure of Hope. Our eyes met and, +before there was any thinking of propriety, I had her in my arms +and was kissing her and she was kissing me. + +It thrilled me to see the splendour of her beauty that day; her eyes +wet with feeling as they looked up at me; to feel again the +trembling touch of her lips. In a moment I turned to Uncle Eb. + +'Boy,'he said, 'I thought you'' and then he stopped and began +brushing his coat sleeve. + +'Come on now,'he added as he took my grip away from me. 'We re +goin't'hey a gran'good time. I ll take ye all to a splendid tavern +somewheres. An'I ain't goin'if count the cost nuther. + +He was determined to carry my grip for me. Hope had a friend +with her who was going north in the morning on our boat. We +crossed the ferry and took a Broadway omnibus, while query +followed query. + +'Makes me feel like a flapjack t'ride 'n them things,'said Unde Eb +as we got out. + +He hired a parlour and two bedrooms for us all at the St Nicholas. + +'Purty middlin'steep!'he said to me as we left the office. 'It is, +sartin! but I don't care - not a bit. When folks has if hey a good +time they ve got t'hey it. + +We were soon seated in our little parlour. There was a great glow +of health and beauty in Hope's face. It was a bit fuller but had +nobler outlines and a colouring as delicate as ever. She wore a +plain grey gown admirably fitted to her plump figure. There was a +new and splendid 'dignity in her carriage, her big blue eyes, her +nose with its little upward slant. She was now the well groomed +young woman of society in the full glory of her youth. + +Uncle Eb who sat between us pinched her cheek playfully. A little +spot of white showed a moment where his fingers had been. Then +the pink flooded over it. + +'Never see a girl git such a smack as you did,'he said laughing. + +'Well,'said she, snling, 'I guess I gave as good as I got. + +'Served him right,'he said. 'You kissed back good 'n hard. Gran +sport!'he added turning to me. + +'Best I ever had,'was my humble acknowledgement. + +'Seldom ever see a girl kissed so powerful,'he said as he took Hope +hand in his. 'Now if the Bible said when a body kissed ye on one +cheek ye mus'turn if other I wouldn t find no fault. But ther's a +heap o differ nce 'tween a whack an'a smack. + +When we had come back from dinner Uncle Lb drew off his boots +and sat comfortably in his stocking feet while Hope told of her +travels and I of my soldiering. She had been at the Conservatory, +nearly the whole period of her absence, and hastened home when +she learned of the battle and of my wound. She had landed two +days before. + +Hope's friend and Unde Lb went away to their rooms in good +season. Then I came and sat beside Hope on the sofa. + +'Let's have a good talk,'I said. + +There was an awkward bit of silence. + +'Well,'said she, her fan upon her lips, 'tell me more about the war. + +'Tired of war,'I answered; 'love is a better subject. + +She rose and walked up and down the room, a troubled look in her +face. I thought I had never seen a woman who could carry her head +so proudly. + +'I don't thinkyou are very familiar with it,'said she presently. + +'I ought to be,'I answered, 'having loved you all these years. + +'But you told me that - that you loved another girl,'she said, her +elbow leaning on the mantel, her eyes looking down soberly. + +'When? Where?'I asked. + +'In Mrs Fuller's parlour.' + +'Hope,'I said, 'you misunderstood me; I meant you. + +She came toward me, then, looking up into my eyes. I started to +embrace her but she caught my hands and held them apart and +came close to me. + +'Did you say that you meant me?'she asked in a whisper. + +'I did.' + +'Why did you not tell me that night? + +'Because you would not listen to me and we were interrupted. + +'Well if I loved a girl,'she said, 'I d make her listen.' + +'I would have done that but Mrs Fuller saved you.' + +'You might have written,'she suggested in a tone of injury. + +'I did.' + +'And the letter never came - just as I feared.' + +She looked very sober and thoughtful then. + +'You know our understanding that day in the garden,'she added. 'If +you did not ask me again I was to know you - you did not love me +any longer. That was long, long ago. + +'I never loved any girl but you,'I said. 'I love you now, Hope, and +that is enough - I love you so there is nothing else for me. You are +dearer than my life. It was the thought of you that made me brave +in battle. I wish I could be as brave here. But I demand your +surrender - I shall give you no quarter now. + +'I wish I knew,'she said, 'whether - whether you really love me or +not? + +'Don't you believe me, Hope? + +'Yes, I believe you,'she said, 'but - but you might not know your +own heart. + +'It longs for you,'I said, 'it keeps me thinking of you always. Once +it was so easy to be happy; since you have been away it has +seemed as if there were no longer any light in the world or any +pleasure. It has made me a slave. I did not know that love was such +a mighty thing. + +'Love is no Cupid - he is a giant,'she said, her voice trembling with +emotion as mine had trembled. 'I tried to forget and he crushed me +under his feet as if to punish me. + +She was near to crying now, but she shut her lips firmly and kept +back the tears. God grant me I may never forget the look in her +eyes that moment. She came closer to me. Our lips touched; my +arms held her tightly. + +'I have waited long for this,'I said - 'the happiest moment of my +lif& I thought! had lost you. + +'What a foolish man,'she whispered. 'I have loved you for years +and years and you - you could not see it. I believe now'' + +She hesitated a moment, her eyes so close to my cheek I could feel +the beat of their long lashes. + +'That God made you for me,'she added. + +'Love is God's helper,'I said. 'He made us for each other. + +'I thank Him for it - I do love you so,'she whispered. + +The rest is the old, old story. They that have not lived it are to be +pitied. + +When we sat down at length she told me what I had long +suspected, that Mrs Fuller wished her to marry young Livingstone. + +'But for Unde Eb,'she added, 'I think I should have done so - for I +had given up all hope of you. + +'Good old Uncle Eb!'I said. 'Let's go and tell him. + +He was sound asleep when we entered his room but woke as I lit +the gas. + +'What's the matter?'he whispered, lifting his head. + +'Congratulate us,'I said. 'We re engaged. + +'Hey ye conquered her?'he enquired smiling. + +'Love has conquered us both,'I said. + +'Wall, I swan! is thet so?'he answered. 'Guess I won't fool away +any more time here n bed. If you childem ll go in t'other room I ll +slip into my trousers an'then ye ll hear me talk some conversation. + +'Beats the world!'he continued, coming in presently, buttoning his +suspenders. 'I thought mos'likely ye d hitch up t gether sometime. +'Tain't often ye can find a pair s'well matched. The same style an +gaited jest about alike. When ye goin't'git married? + +'She hasn t named the day,'I said. + +'Sooner the better,'said JJncle Eb as he drew on his coat and sat +down. 'Used if be so t'when a young couple hed set up n held each +other's han's a few nights they was ready fer the minister. Wish t +ye could lix it fer 'bout Crissmus time, by jingo! They's other +things goin'if happen then.'s pose yer s'happy now ye can stan'a +little bad news. I've got if tell ye - David's been losin'money. Hain +t never wrote ye 'bout it - not a word - 'cause I didn t know how +'twas comin'out. + +'How did he lose it?'I enquired. + +'Wall ye know that Ow Barker - runs a hardware store in +Migleyville - he sold him a patent right. Figgered an'argued night +an'day fer more n three weeks. It was a new fangled wash biler. +David he thought he see a chance if put out agents an'make a +great deal o'money. It did look jest as easy as slidin'downhill but +when we come slide - wall, we found out we was at the bottom o +the hill 'stid o'the top an'it wan t reel good slidin . He paid five +thousan'dollars fer the right o'ten counties. Then bym bye Barker +he wanted him t'go security fer fifteen hunderd bilers thet he was +hevin'made. I to!'David he hedn t better go in no deeper but +Barker, he promised big things an'seemed if be sech a nice man 'at +fln ly David he up 'n done it. Wall he's hed 'em t'pay fer an'the +fact is it costs s'much if sell 'em it eats up all the profits. + +'Looks like a swindle,'I said indignantly. + +'No,'said Uncle El, "tain't no swindle. Barker thought he hed a +gran'good thing. He got fooled an'the fool complaint is very +ketchin . Got it myself years ago an'I've been doctorin'fer it ever +sence. + +The story of David's undoing hurt us sorely. He had gone the way +of most men who left the farm late in life with unsatisfied +ambition. + +'They shall never want for anything, so long as I have my health,'I +said. + +'I have four hundred dollars in the bank,'said Hope, 'and shall give +them every cent of it. + +'Tam'nuthin'if worry over,'said Uncle Eb. 'If I don'never lose +more n a little money I shan t feel terrible bad. We re all young yit. +Got more n a million dollars wuth o'good health right here 'n this +room. So well, I m 'shamed uv it! Man's more decent if he's a +leetle bit sickly. An'thet there girl Bill's agreed t'marry ye! Why! +'Druther hey her 'n this hull cityo'New York. + +'So had I,'was my answer. + +'Wall, you am'no luckier 'n she is - not a bit,'he added. 'A good +man's better 'n a gol'mine ev ry time. + +'Who knows,'said Hope. 'He may be president someday. + +'Ther's one thing I hate,'Uncle El continued. 'That's the idee o +hevin'the woodshed an'barn an'garret full o'them infernal wash +bilers. Ye can't take no decent care uv a hoss there 'n the stable' +they re so piled up. One uv 'em tumbled down top o'me t other +day. 'Druther 'twould a been a panther. Made me s'mad I took a +club an'knocked that biler into a cocked hat. 'Tain't right! I m sick +o'the sight uv 'em. + +'They ll make a good bonfire someday,'said Hope. + +'Don't believe they d burn,'he answered sorrowfully, 'they re tin. + +'Couldn't we bury 'em?'I suggested. + +'Be a purty costly funeral,'he answered thoughtfully. 'Ye d hey if +dig a hole deeper n Tupper's dingle. + +'Couldn't you give them away?'I enquired. + +'Wall,'said he, helping himself to a chew of tobacco, 'we ve tried +thet. Gin 'em t'everybody we know but there ain't folks enough' +there's such a slew o'them bilers. We could give one if ev ry man, +woman an'child in Faraway an'hex enough left t'fill an acre lot. +Dan Perry druv in t other day with a double buggy. We gin him +one fer his own fam ly. It was heavy t'carry an'he didn t seem t +like the looks uv it someway. Then I asked him if he wouldn t like +one fer his girl. "She ain't married," says he. "She will be some +time," says I, "take it along," so he put in another. "You ve got a +sister over on the turnpike hain't ye?" says I. "Yes," says he. +"Wall," I says, "don'want a hex her feel slighted." "She won't +know 'bout my hevin''em," says he, lookin''s if he d hed enough. +"Yis she will," I says, 'she ll hear uv it an'mebbe make a fuss." +Then we piled in another. "Look here," I says after that, "there s +yer brother Bill up there 'bove you. Take one along fer him." "No," +says he, "I don'tell ev ry body, but Bill an'I ain't on good terms. +We ain't spoke fer more n a year." + +'Knew he was lyin ,'Uncle Eb added with a laugh, 'I d seen him +talkin'with Bill a day er two before. + +'Whew!'he whistled as he looked at his big silver watch. 'I declare +it's mos'one o clock They's jes'one other piece o'business if +come before this meetin . Double or single, want ye if both +promise me t'be. hum Crissmus. + +We promised. + +'Now childern,'said he.''S time if go if bed. B lieve ye d stan +there swappin'kisses 'till ye was knee sprung if I didn t tell yet +quit. + +Hope came and put her arms about his neck, fondly, and kissed +him good-night. + +'Did Bill prance right up like a man?'he asked, his hand upon her +shoulder. + +'Did very well,'said she, smiling, 'for a man with a wooden leg. + +Unde Eb sank into a chair, laughing heartily, and pounding his +knee. It seemed he had told her that I was coming home with a +wooden leg! 'That is the reason I held your arm,'she said. 'I was +expecting to hear it squeak every moment as we left the depot. But +when I saw that you walked so naturally I knew Uncle Eb had been +trying to fool me. + +'Purty good sort uv a lover, ain't he?'said he after we were done +laughing. + +'He wouldn t take no for an answer,'she answered. + +'He was aiwuss a gritty cuss,'said Uncle Eb, wiping his eyes with a +big red handkerchief as he rose to go. 'Ye d oughter be mighty +happy an'ye will, too - their am'no doubt uv it - not a bit. Trouble +with most young folks is they wan'if fly tew high, these days. If +they d only fly clus enough t'the ground so the could aiwuss touch +one foot, they d be all right. Glad ye ain't thet kind. + +We were off early on the boat - as fine a summer morning as ever +dawned. What with the grandeur of the scenery and the sublimity +of our happiness it was a delightful journey we had that day. I felt +the peace and beauty of the fields, the majesty of the mirrored +cliffs and mountains, but the fair face of her I loved was enough +for me. Most of the day Uncle Eb sat near us and I remember a +woman evangelist came and took a seat beside him, awhile, +talking volubly of the scene. + +'My friend,'said she presently, 'are you a Christian? + +''Fore I answer I ll hex if tell ye a story,'said Uncle Eb. 'I recollec +a man by the name o'Ranney over n Vermont - he was a pious +man. Got into an argyment an'a feller slapped him in the face. +Ranney turned t other side an'then t other an'the feller kep'a +slappin'hot 'n heavy. It was jes'like strappin'a razor fer haifa +minnit. Then Ranney sailed in - gin him the wust lickin'he ever +hed. + +'"I declare," says another man, after 'twas all over, "I thought you +was a Christian." + +"Am up to a cert in p int," says he. "Can't go tew fur not 'n these +parts - men are tew powerful. 'Twon't do 'less ye wan'if die +sudden. When he begun poundin'uv me I see I wan t eggzac ly +prepared." + +''Fraid 's a good deal thet way with most uv us. We re Christians up +to a cert in p int. Fer one thing, I think if a rnan ll stan'still an'see +himself knocked into the nex'world he's a leetle tew good fer this. + +The good lady began to preach and argue. For an hour Uncle Eb +sat listening unable to get in a word. When, at last, she left him he +came to us a look of relief in his face. + +'I b'lieve,'said he, 'if Balaam's ass hed been rode by a woman he +never 'd hey spoke. + +'Why not?'I enquired. + +'Never'd hey hed a chance,'Unde Eb added. + +We were two weeks at home with mother and father and Uncle Eb. +It was a delightful season of rest in which Hope and I went over +the sloping roads of Faraway and walked in the fields and saw the +harvesting. She had appointed Christmas Day for our wedding and +I was not to go again to the war, for now my first duty was to my +own people. If God prospered me they were all to come to live +with us in town and, though slow to promise, I could see it gave +them comfort to know we were to be for them ever a staff and +refuge. + +And the evening before we came back to townJed Feary was with +us and Uncle Eb played his flute and sang the songs that had been +the delight of our childhood. + +The old poet read these lines written in memory of old times in +Faraway and of Hope's girlhood. + +'The red was in the clover an'the blue was in the sky: +There was music in the meadow, there was dancing in the rye; +An'I heard a voice a calling to the flocks o'Faraway +An'its echo in the wooded hills - Co'day! Go'day! Go'day! + +O fair was she - my lady love - an'lithe as the willow tree, +An'aye my heart remembers well her parting words t'me. +An'I was sad as a beggar-man but she was blithe an'gay +An'I think o'her as I call the flocks Go'day! Go'day! Go'day! + +Her cheeks they stole the dover's red, her lips the odoured air, +An'the glow o'the morning sunlight she took away in her hair; +Her voice had the meadow music, her form an'her laughing eye +Have taken the blue o'the heavens an'the grace o'the bending +rye. + +My love has robbed the summer day - the field, the sky, the dell, +She has taken their treasures with her, she has taken my heart as +well; +An'if ever, in the further fields, her feet should go astray +May she hear the good God calling her Co'day! Go'day! Go'day! + +Chapter 41 + +I got a warm welcome on Monkey Hill. John Trumbull came to +dine with us at the chalet the evening of my arrival. McGlingan +had become editor-in-chief of a new daily newspaper. Since the +war began Mr Force had found ample and remunerative +occupation writing the 'Obituaries of Distinguished Persons . He +sat between Trumbull and McGlingan at table and told again of the +time he had introduced the late Daniel Webster to the people of his +native town. + +Reciting a passage of the immortal Senator he tipped his beer into +the lap of McClingan. He ceased talking and sought pardon. + +'It is nothing, Force - nothing,'said the Scotchman, with great +dignity, as he wiped his coat and trousers. 'You will pardon me if I +say that I had rather be drenched in beer than soaked in +recollections. + +'That's all right,'said Mr Opper, handing him a new napkin. 'Yes, +in the midst of such affliction I should call it excellent fun, +McClingan added. 'If you ever die, Force, I will preach the sermon +without charge. + +'On what text?'the obituary editor enquired. + +'"There remaineth therefore, a rest for the people of God,"'quoth +McClingan solemnly. 'Hebrews, fourth chapter and ninth verse. + +'If I continue to live with you I shall need it,'said Force. + +'And if I endure to the end,'said McClingan, 'I shall have excellent +Christian discipline; I shall feel like opening my mouth and +making a loud noise. + +McGlingan changed his garments and then came into my room and +sat with us awhile after dinner. + +'One needs ear lappers and a rubber coat at that table,'said he. + +'And a chest protector,'I suggested, remembering the finger of +Force. + +'I shall be leaving here soon, Brower,'said McGlingan as he lit a +cigar. + +'Where shall you go?'I asked. + +'To my own house. + +'Going to hire a housekeeper? + +'Going to marry one,'said he. + +'That's funny,'I said. We re all to be married - every man of us. + +'By Jove!'said McClingan, 'this is a time for congratulation. God +save us and grant for us all the best woman in the world. + +Chapter 42 + +For every man he knew and loved Mr Greeley had a kindness that +filled him to the fingertips. When I returned he smote me on the +breast - an unfailing mark of his favour - and doubled my salary. + +'If he ever smites you on the breast,'McClingan had once said to +me, + +'turn the other side, for, man, your fortune is made. + +And there was some truth in the warning. + +He was writing when I came in. A woman sat beside him talking. +An immense ham lay on the marble top of the steam radiator; a +basket of eggs sat on the floor near Mr Greeley's desk All sorts of +merchandise were sent to the Tribune those days, for notice, and +sold at auction, to members of the staff, by Mr Dana. + +'Yes, yes, Madame, go on, I hear you,'said the great editor, as his +pen flew across the white page. + +She asked him then for a loan of money. He continued writing but, +presently, his left hand dove into his trousers pocket coming up +full of bills. + +'Take what you want,'said he, holding it toward her, 'and please go +for I am very busy.'Whereupon she helped herself liberally and +went away. + +Seeing me, Mr Greeley came and shook my hand warmly and +praised me fer a good soldier. + +'Going down town,'he said in a moment, drawing on his big white +overcoat, 'walk along with me - won't you? + +We crossed the park, he leading me with long strides. As we +walked he told how he had been suffering from brain fever. +Passing St Paul's churchyard he brushed the iron pickets with his +hand as if to try the feel of them. Many turned to stare at him +curiously. He asked me, soon, if I would care to do a certain thing +for the Tribune, stopping, to look in at a shop window, as I +answered him. I waited while he did his errand at a Broadway +shop; then we came back to the office. The publisher was in Mr +Greeley's room. + +'Where's my ham, Dave?'said the editor as he looked at the slab of +marble where the ham had lain. + +'Don't know for sure,'said the publisher, 'it's probably up at the +house of the - editor by this time. + +'What did you go 'n give it to him for?'drawled Mr Greeley in a +tone of irreparable injury. 'I wanted that ham for myself. + +'I didn t give it to him,'said the publisher. 'He came and helped +himself. Said he supposed it was sent in for notice. + +'The infernal thief!'Mr Greeley piped with a violent gesture. 'I ll +swear! if I didn t keep my shirt buttoned tight they d have that, too. + +The ham was a serious obstacle in the way of my business and it +went over until evening. But that and like incidents made me to +know the man as I have never seen him pictured - a boy grown old +and grey, pushing the power of manhood with the ardours of +youth. + +I resumed work on the Tribune that week. My first assignment was +a mass meeting in a big temporary structure - then called a +wigwam - over in Brooklyn. My political life began that day and +all by an odd chance. The wigwam was crowded to the doors. The +audience bad been waiting half an hour for the speaker. The +chairman had been doing his best to kill time but had run out of +ammunition. He had sat down to wait, an awkward silence had +begun. The crowd was stamping and whistling and clapping with +impatience. As I walked down the centre aisle, to the reporter s +table, they seemed to mistake me for the speaker. Instantly a great +uproar began. It grew louder every step I took. I began to wonder +and then to fear the truth. As I neared the stage the chairman came +forward beckoning to me. I went to the ffight of steps leading up to +that higher level of distinguished citizens and halted, not knowing +just what to do. He came and leaned over and whispered down at +me. I remember he was red in the face and damp with perspiration. + +'What is your name?'he enquired. + +'Brower,'said I in a whisper. + +A look of relief came into his face and I am sure a look of anxiety +came into mine. He had taken the centre of the stage before I could +stop him. + +'Lathes and gentlemen,'said he, 'I am glad to inform you that +General Brower has at last arrived. + +I remembered then there was a General Brower in the army who +was also a power in politics. + +In the storm of applause that followed this announcement, I +beckoned him to the edge of the platform again. I was nearer a +condition of mental panic than I have ever known since that day. + +'I am not General Brower,'I whispered. + +'What!'said he in amazement. + +'I am not General Brower,'I said. + +'Great heavens!'he whispered, covering his mouth with his band +and looking very thoughtful. 'You ll have to make a speech, +anyway - there's no escape. + +I could see no way out of it and, after a moment's hesitation, +ascended the platform took off my overcoat and made a speech. + +Fortunately the issue was one with which I had been long familiar. +I told them how I had been trapped. The story put the audience in +good humour and they helped me along with very generous +applause. And so began my career in politics which has brought +me more honour than I deserved although I know it has not been +wholly without value to my country. It enabled me to repay in part +the kindness of my former chief at a time when he was sadly in +need of friends. I remember meeting him in Washington a day of +that exciting campaign of 72. I was then in Congress. + +'I thank you for what you have done, Brower,'said he, 'but I tell +you I am licked. I shall not carry a single state. I am going to be +slaughtered. + +He had read his fate and better than he knew. In politics he was a +great prophet. + +Chapter 43 + +The north country lay buried in the snow that Christmastime. Here +and there the steam plough had thrown its furrows, on either side +of the railroad, high above the window line. The fences were +muffled in long ridges of snow, their stakes showing like pins in a +cushion of white velvet. Some of the small trees on the edge of the +big timber stood overdrifted to their boughs. I have never seen +such a glory of the morning as when the sun came up, that day we +were nearing home, and lit the splendour of the hills, there in the +land I love. The frosty nap of the snow glowed far and near with +pulsing glints of pale sapphire. + +We came into Hillsborough at noon the day before Christmas. +Father and Uncle Eb met us at the depot and mother stood waving +her handkerchief at the door as we drove up. And when we were +done with our greetings and were standing, damp eyed, to warm +ourselves at the fire, Uncle Eb brought his palms together with a +loud whack and said: + +'Look here, Liz beth Brower! I want if hey ye tell me if ye ever see +a likelier pair o'colts. + +She laughed as she looked at us. In a moment she ran her hand +down the side of Hope's gown. Then she lifted a fold of the cloth +and felt of it thoughtfully. + +'How much was that a yard?'she asked a dreamy look in her eyes. +'Wy! w'y!'she continued as Hope told her the sum. 'Terrible steep! +but it does fit splendid! Oughter wear well too! Wish ye d put that +on if ye go t'church nex'Sunday. + +'O mother!'said Hope, laughing, 'I ll wear my blue silk. + +'Come boys 'n girls,'said Elizabeth suddenly, 'dinner's all ready in +the other room. + +'Beats the world!'said Uncle Eb, as we sat down at the table. 'Ye +do look gran'if me - ree-markable gran , both uv ye. Tek a +premium at any fair - ye would sartin. + +'Has he won yer affections?'said David laughing as he looked over +at Hope. + +'He has,'said she solemnly. + +'Affections are a sing lar kind o'prop ty,'said Uncle Eb. 'Hain't +good fer nuthin''iii ye ve gin em away. Then, like as not, they git +very valyble. + +'Good deal that way with money too,'said Elizabeth Brower. + +'I recollec'when Hope was a leetle bit uv a girl'said Uncle Eb, 'she +used if say 'et when she got married she was goin'if hev her +husban'rub my back fer me when it was lame. + +'I haven t forgotten it,'said Hope, 'and if you will all come you will +make us happier. + +'Good many mouths if feed!'Uncle Ebb remarked. + +'I could take in sewing and help some,'said Elizabeth Brower, as +she sipped her tea. + +There was a little quiver in David's under lip as he looked over at +her. 'You ain't able t'do hard work any more, mother,'said he. +'She won't never hey to nuther,'said Uncle Eb. 'Don't never pay if +go bookin'fer trouble - it stew easy if find. There ain'no sech +thing 's trouble 'n this world 'less ye look for it. Happiness won't +hey nuthin if dew with a man thet likes trouble. Minnit a man stops +lookin'fer trouble happiness 'II look fer him. Things came puny +nigh's ye like 'em here 'n this world - hot er cold er only middlin . +Ye can either laugh er cry er fight er fish er go if meetin . If ye +don't like erry one you can fin fault. I m on the lookout fer +happiness - suits me best, someway, an don't hurt my feelin's a bit. + +'Ev'ry day's a kind uv a circus day with you, Holden,'said David +Brower. 'Alwuss hevin'a good time. Ye can hey more fun with +yerseif 'n any man I ever see.' + +'If I hey as much hereafter es I've hed here, I ain't a goin'if fin'no +fault,'said Uncle Eb. ''S a reel, splendid world. God's fixed it up so +ev ry body can hey a good time if they ll only hey it. Once I heard +uv a poor man 'at hed a bushel o'corn give tew him. He looked up +kind o'sad an'ast if they wouldn t please shell it. Then they tuk it +away. God's gin us happiness in the ear, but He ain't a goin't'shell +it fer us. You n 'Lizabeth oughter be very happy. Look a'them tew +childern! + +There came a rap at the door then. David put on his cap and went +out with Uncle Eb. + +'It's somebody for more money,'Elizabeth whispered, her eyes +filling. 'I know 'tis, or he would have asked him in. We re goin't +lose our home. + +Her lips quivered; she covered her eyes a moment. + +'David ain't well,'she continued. 'Worries night 'n day over money +matters. Don't say much, but I can see it's alwuss on his mind. +Woke up in the middle o'the night awhile ago. Found him sittm +by the stove. "Mother," he said, "we can't never go back to farmin . +I've ploughed furrows enough if go 'round the world. Couldn't +never go through it ag in." "Well," said I, "if you think best we +could start over see how we git along. I m willin'if try it." "No, we +re too old," he says. "Thet's out o'the question. I've been +thinkin'what'll we do there with Bill 'n Hope if we go t'live with +'em? Don't suppose they ll hey any hosses if take care uv er any +wood if chop. What we'll hey if do is more n I can make out. We +can't do nuthin; we've never learnt how." + +'We ve thought that all over,'I said. 'We may have a place in the +country with a big garden. + +'Well,'said she, 'I m very well if I am over sixty. I can cook an +wash an'mend an'iron just as well as I ever could. + +Uncle Eb came to the door then. + +'Bill,'he said, 'I want you 'n Hope if come out here 'n look at this +young colt o'mine. He's playful 's a kitten. + +We put on our wraps and went to the stable. Uncle Eb was there +alone. + +'If ye brought any Cnssmus presents,'he whispered, 'slip 'em into +my han s. I m goin'if run the cirkis t'morrow an'if we don't hev +fun a plenty I'll miss my guess. + +'I ll lay them out in my room,'said Hope. + +'Be sure 'n put the names on 'em,'Uncle Eb whispered, as Hope +went away. + +'What have ye done with the "bilers"?'I enquired. + +'Sold 'em,'said he, laughing. 'Barker never kep'his promise. Heard +they d gone over t'the 'Burg an'was tryin't'sell more territory. I +says if Dave, "You let me manage 'em an'I ll put 'em out o +business here 'n this part o'the country." So I writ out an +advertisement fer the paper. Read about this way: "Fer sale. +Twelve hunderd patented suction Wash B ilers. Anyone at can't +stan'prosperity an'is learnin'if swear ll find 'em a great help. If he +don't he's a bigger fool 'n I am. Nuthin'in 'em but tin - that's wuth +somethin . Warranted t'hold water." + +'Wall ye know how that editor talks? 'Twant a day 'fore the head +man o'the b iler business come 'n bought 'em. An'the +advertisement was never put in. Guess he wan t hankerin'if hey +his business sp ilt. + +Uncle Eb was not at the supper table that evening. + +'Where's Holden?'said Elizabeth Brower. + +'Dunno,'said David. 'Goin'after Santa Claus he tol'me. + +'Never see the beat o'that man!'was the remark of Elizabeth, as +she poured the tea. 'Jes'like a boy ev ry Crissmus time. Been so +excited fer a week couldn't hardly contain himself. + +'Ketched him out 'n the barn if other day laffin'like a fool,'said +David. 'Thought he was crazy. + +We sat by the fire after the supper dishes were put away, talking of +all the Christmas Days we could remember. Hope and I thought +our last in Faraway best of all and no wonder, for we had got then +the first promise of the great gift that now made us happy. +Elizabeth, sitting in her easy-chair, told of Christmas in the olden +time when her father had gone to the war with the British. + +David sat near me, his face in the firelight - the broad brow +wrinkled into furrows and framed in locks of iron-grey. He was +looking thoughtfully at the fire. Uncle Eb came soon, stamping +and shaking the snow out of his great fur coat. + +'Col'night,'he said, warming his hands. + +Then he carried his coat and cap away, returning shortly, with a +little box in his hand. + +'Jes'thought I d buy this fer fun,'said he, holding it down to the +firelight. 'Dummed if I ever see the like uv it. Whoa!'he shouted, +as the cover flew open, releasing a jumping-jack. 'Quicker n a +grasshopper! D ye ever see sech a sassy little critter? + +Then he handed it to Elizabeth. + +'Wish ye Merry Christmas, Dave Brower!'said he. + +'Ain't as merry as I might be,'said David. + +'Know what's the matter with ye,'said Unde Eb. 'Searchin'after +trouble - thet's what ye re doin . Findin'lots uv it right there 'n the +fire. Trouble 's goiti't'git mighty scurce 'round here this very +selfsame night. Ain't goin't'be nobody lookin'fer it - thet's why. +Fer years ye ve been takin'care o'somebody et 'II take care 'o you, +long's ye live - sartin sure. Folks they said ye was fools when ye +took 'em in. Man said I was a fool once. Aiwuss hed a purty fair +idee o'myself sence then. When some folks call ye a fool 's a +ruther good sign ye ain't Ye ve waited a long time fer yer pay - ain +t much longer if wait now. + +There was a little quaver in his voice, We all looked at him in +silence. Uncle Eb drew out his wallet with trembling hands, his +fine old face lit with a deep emotion. David looked up at him as +iihe wondered what joke was coming, until he saw his excitement. + +'Here's twenty thousan'dollars,'said Unde Eb, 'a reel, genuwine +bank check!'jist as good as gold. Here 'tis! A Crissmus present fer +you 'n Elizabeth. An'may God bless ye both! + +David looked up incredulously. Then he took the bit of paper. A +big tear rolled down his cheek. + +'Why, Holden! Whatdoes this mean?'he asked. + +''At the Lord pays Flis debts,'said Uncle Eb. 'Read it. + +Hope had lighted the lamp. + +David rose and put on his spectacles. One eyebrow had lifted +above the level of the other. He held the check to the lamplight. +Elizabeth stood at his elbow. + +'Why, mother!'said he. 'Is this from our boy? From Nehemiah? +Why, Nehemiah is dead!'he added, looking over his spectacles at +Uncle Eb. + +'Nehemiah is not dead,'said the latter. + +'Nehemiah not dead!'he repeated, looking down at the draft. They +turned it in the light, reading over and over again the happy tidings +pinned to one corner of it. Then they looked into each other's eyes. + +Elizabeth put her arms about David's neck and laid her head upon +his shoulder and not one of us dare trust himself to speak for a +little. Uncle Eb broke the silence. + +'Got another present,'he said. 'S a good deal better 'n gold er silver +tall, bearded man came in. + +'Mr Trumbull!'Hope exclaimed, rising. + +'David an' Elizabeth Brower,'said Uncle Eb, 'the dead hes come if +life. I give ye back yer son - Nehemiah. + +Then he swung his cap high above his head, shouting in a loud +voice: + +'Merry Crissmus! Merry Crissmus! + +The scene that followed I shall not try to picture. It was so full of +happiness that every day of our lives since then has been blessed +with it and with a peace that has lightened every sorrow; of it, I +can'truly say that it passeth all understanding. + +'Look here, folks!'said Uncle Eb, after awhile, as he got his flute, +'my feelin's hey been teched hard. If I don't hey some jollification +I'll bust. Bill Brower, limber up yer leather a leetle bit. + +Chapter 44 + +Nehemiah, whom I had known as John Trumbull, sat a long time +between his father and mother, holding a hand of each, and talking +in a low tone, while Hope and I were in the kitchen with Uncle Eb. +Now that father and son were side by side we saw how like they +were and wondered we bad never guessed the truth. + +'Do you remember?'said Nehemiah, when we returned. 'Do you +remember when you were a little boy, coming one night to the old +log house on Bowman's Hill with Uncle Eb? + +'I remember it very well,'I answered. + +'That was the first time I ever saw you,'he said. + +'Why'you are not the night man?' + +'I was the night man,'he answered. + +I stared at him with something of the old, familiar thrill that had +always come at the mention of him years agone. + +'He's grown a leetle since then,'said Uncle Eb. + +'I thought so the night I carried him off the field at Bull Run,'said +Nehemiah. + +'Was that you?'I asked eagerly. + +'It was,'he answered. 'I came over from Washington that +afternoon. Your colonel told me you had been wounded. + +'Wondered who you were, but I could not get you to answer. I have +to thank you for my life. + +Hope put her arms about his neck and kissed him. + +'Tell us,'said she, 'how you came to be the night man. ' + +He folded his arms and looked down and began his story. + +'Years ago I had a great misfortune. I was a mere boy at the time. +By accident I killed another boy in play. It was an old gun we were +playing with and nobody knew it was loaded. I had often +quarrelled with the other boy - that is why they thought I had done +it on purpose. There was a dance that night. I had got up in the +evening, crawled out of the window and stolen away. We were in +Rickard's stable. I remember how the people ran out with lanterns. +They would have hung me - some of them - or given me the blue +beech, if a boy friend had not hurried me away. It was a terrible +hour. I was stunned; I could say nothing. They drove me to the +'Burg, the boy's father chasing us. I got over into Canada, walked +to Montreal and there went to sea. It was foolish, I know, but I was +only a boy of fifteen. I took another name; I began a new life. +Nehemiah Brower was like one dead. In 'Frisco I saw Ben Gilman. +He had been a school mate in Faraway. He put his hand on my +shoulder and called me the old name. It was hard to deny it - the +hardest thing I ever did. I was homesick; I wanted to ask him about +my mother and father and my sister, who was a baby when I left. I +would have given my life to talk with him. But I shook my head. + +'"No," I said, "my name is not Brower. You are mistaken." + +'Then I walked away and Nemy Brower stayed in his grave. + +'Well, two years later we were cruising from Sidney to Van +Dieman's Land. One night there came a big storm. A shipmate was +washed away in the dark. We never saw him again. They found a +letter in his box that said his real name was Nehemiah Brower, son +of David Brower, of Faraway, NY, USA. I put it there, of course, +and the captain wrote a letter to my father about the death of his +son. My old self was near done for and the man Trumbull had a +new lease of life. You see in my madness I had convicted and +executed myself. + +He paused a moment. His mother put her hand upon his shoulder +with a word of gentle sympathy. Then he went on. + +'Well, six years after I had gone away, one evening in midsummer, +we came into the harbour of Quebec. I had been long in the +southern seas. When I went ashore, on a day's leave, and wandered +off in the fields and got the smell of the north, I went out of my +head - went crazy for a look at the hills o'Faraway and my own +people. Nothing could stop me then. I drew my pay, packed my +things in a bag and off I went. Left the 'Burg afoot the day after; +got to Faraway in the evening. It was beautiful - the scent o'the +new hay that stood in cocks and wnrows on the hill - the noise +o'the crickets -'the smell o'the grain - the old house, just as I +remembered them; just as I had dreamed of them a thousand times. +And - when I went by the gate Bony - my old dog - came out and +barked at - me and I spoke to him and he knew me and came and +licked my hands, rubbing upon my leg. I sat down with him there +by the stone wall and - the kiss of that old dog - the first token of +love I had known for years' called back the dead and all that had +been his. I put my arms about his - neck and was near crying out +with joy. + +'Then I stole up to the house and looked in at a window. There sat +father, at a table, reading his paper; and a little girl was on her +knees by mother saying her prayers. He stopped a moment, +covering his eyes with his handkerchief. + +'That was Hope,'I whispered. + +'That was Hope,'he went on. 'All the king's oxen could not +have dragged me out of Faraway then. Late at night I went off +into the woods. The old dog followed to stay with me until he died. +If it had not been for him I should have been hopeless. I had with +me enough to eat for a time. We found a cave in a big ledge over +back of Bull Pond. Its mouth was covered with briars. It had a big +room and a stream of cold water trickling through a crevice. I +made it my home and a fine place it was - cool in summer and +warm in winter. I caught a cub panther that fall and a baby coon. +They grew up with me there and were the only friends I had after +Bony, except Uncle Eb. + + 'Uncle Eb!'I exclaimed. + + 'You know how I met him,'he continued. 'Well, he won +my confidence. I told him my history. I came into the clearing +almost every night. Met him often. He tried to persuade me to +come back to my people, but I could not do it. I was insane; I +feared something - I did not know what. Sometimes I doubted +even my own identity. Many a summer night I sat talking for +hours, with Uncle Eb, at the foot of Lone Pine. O, he was like a +father to me! God knows what I should have done without him. +Well, I stuck to my life, or rather to my death, O - there in the +woods - getting fish out of the brooks and game out of the forest, +and milk out of the cows in the pasture. Sometimes I went through +the woods to the store at Tifton for flour and pork. One night +Uncle Eb told me if I would go out among men to try my hand at +some sort of business he would start me with a thousand dollars. +Well, I did - it. I had also a hundred dollars of my own. I came +through the woods afoot. Bought fashionable clothing at Utica, +and came to the big city' you know the rest. Among men my fear +has left me, so I wonder at it. I am a debtor to love - the love of +Uncle Eb and that of a noble woman I shall soon marry. It has +made me whole and brought me back to my own people. + +'And everybody knew he was innocent the day after he left,'said +David. + +'Three cheers for Uncle Eb!'I demanded. + +And we gave them. + +'1 declare!'said he. 'In all my born days never see sech fun. It's +tree-menjious! I tell ye. Them 'et takes care uv others ll be took +care uv - 'less they do it o'purpose. + +And when the rest of us had gone to bed Uncle Eb sat awhile by +the fire with David. Late at night he came upstairs with his candle. +He came over to my bed on tiptoe to see if I were awake, holding +the candle above my head. I was worn out and did not open my +eyes. He sat down snickering. + +'Tell ye one thing, Dave Brower,'he whispered to himself as he +drew off his boots, 'when some folks calls ye a fool 's a purty good +sign ye ain't. + +Chapter 45 + +Since that day I have seen much coming and going. + +We are now the old folks - Margaret and Nehemiah and Hope and +I. Those others, with their rugged strength, their simple ways, their +undying youth, are of the past. The young folks - they are a new +kind of people. It gives us comfort to think they will never have to +sing in choirs or 'pound the rock'for board money; but I know it is +the worse luck for them. They are a fine lot of young men and +women - comely and well-mannered - but they will not be the +pathfinders of the future. What with balls and dinners and clubs +and theatres, they find too great a solace in the rear rank. + +Nearly twenty years after that memorable Christmas, coming from +Buffalo to New York one summer morning, my thoughts went +astray in the north country. The familiar faces, the old scenes came +trooping by and that very day I saw the sun set in Hillsborough as I +had often those late years. + +Mother was living in the old home, alone, with a daughter of +Grandma Bisnette. It was her wish to live and die under that roof. +She cooked me a fine supper, with her own hands, and a great +anxiety to please me. + +'Come Willie!'said she, as if I were a small boy again, 'you fill the +woodbox an'I ll git supper ready. Lucindy, you clear out,'she said +to the hired girl, good-naturedly. 'You dunno how t'cook for him. + +I filled the woodbox and brought a pail of water and while she was +frying the ham and eggs read to her part of a speech I had made in +Congress. Before thousands I had never felt more elation. At last I +was sure of winning her applause. The little bent figure stood, +thoughtfully, turning the ham and eggs. She put the spider aside, to +stand near me, her hands upon her hips. There was a mighty pride +in her face when I had finished. + +I rose and she went and looked out of the window. + +'Grand!'she murmured, wiping her eyes with the corner of her +handkerchief. + +'Glad you like it,'I said, with great satisfaction. + +'O, the speech!'she answered, her elbow resting on the windowr +sash, her hand supporting her head. 'I liked it very well - but - but I +was thinking of the sunset. How beautiful it is. + +I was weary after my day of travel and went early to bed there in +my old room. I left her finishing a pair of socks she had been +knitting for me. Lying in bed, I could hear the creak of her chair +and the low sung, familiar words: + +'On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden, Where the +tree of life is blooming, There is rest for you. + +Late at rnght she came into my room with a candle. I heard her +come softly to the bed where she stood a moment leaning over me. +Then she drew the quilt about my shoulder with a gentle hand. + +'Poor little orphan!'said she, in a whisper that trembled. She was +thinking of my childhood - of her own happier days. + +Then she went away and I heard, in the silence, a ripple of +measureless waters. + +Next morning I took flowers and strewed them on the graves of +David and Uncle Eb; there, Hope and I go often to sit for half a +summer day above those perished forms, and think of the old time +and of those last words of my venerable friend now graven on his +tombstone: + +I AIN'T AFRAID. +'SHAMED O'NUTHIN'I EVER DONE. +ALWUSS KEP'MY TUGS TIGHT, +NEVER SWORE 'LESS 'TWAS NECESSARY, +NEVER KETCHED A FISH BIGGER 'N 'TWAS +ER LIED 'N A HOSS TRADE +ER SHED A TEAR I DIDN'T HEV TO. +NEVER CHEATED ANYBODY BUT EBEN HOLDEN. +GOIN'OFF SOMEWHERES, BILL +DUNNO THE WAY NUTHER +DUNNO 'F IT'S EAST ER WEST ER NORTH ER SOUTH, +ER ROAD ER TRAIL; +BUT I AIN'T AFRAID. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Eben Holden, by Irving Bacheller + diff --git a/old/bnhld10.zip b/old/bnhld10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec8869f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bnhld10.zip diff --git a/old/bnhld11.txt b/old/bnhld11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bce4d8c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bnhld11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10720 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eben Holden, by Irving Bacheller + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Eben Holden + +Author: Irving Bacheller + +Release Date: Sep, 2001 [EBook #2799] +[Most recently updated: March 4, 2006] + +Edition: 11 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, EBEN HOLDEN *** + + + + +Corrections to this eBook were performed by Martin Robb. + + + + +Eben Holden a Tale of the North Country + +by Irving Bacheller + + + + +PREFACE + +Early in the last century the hardy wood-choppers began to come +west, out of Vermont. They founded their homes in the +Adirondack wildernesses and cleared their rough acres with the +axe and the charcoal pit. After years of toil in a rigorous climate +they left their sons little besides a stumpy farm and a coon-skin +overcoat. Far from the centres of life their amusements, their +humours, their religion, their folk lore, their views of things had in +them the flavour of the timber lands, the simplicity of childhood. +Every son was nurtured in the love of honour and of industry, and +the hope of sometime being president. It is to be feared this latter +thing and the love of right living, for its own sake, were more in +their thoughts than the immortal crown that had been the +inspiration of their fathers. Leaving the farm for the more +promising life of the big city they were as men born anew, and +their second infancy was like that of Hercules. They had the +strength of manhood, the tireless energy of children and some hope +of the highest things. The pageant of the big town - its novelty, its +promise, its art, its activity - quickened their highest powers, put +them to their best effort. And in all great enterprises they became +the pathfinders, like their fathers in the primeval forest. + +This book has grown out of such enforced leisure as one may find +in a busy life. Chapters begun in the publicity of a Pullman car +have been finished in the cheerless solitude of a hotel chamber. +Some have had their beginning in a sleepless night and their end in +a day of bronchitis. A certain pious farmer in the north country +when, like Agricola, he was about to die, requested the doubtful +glory of this epitaph: 'He was a poor sinner, but he done his best' +Save for the fact that I am an excellent sinner, in a literary sense, +the words may stand for all the apology I have to make. + +The characters were mostly men and women I have known and +who left with me a love of my kind that even a wide experience +with knavery and misfortune has never dissipated. For my +knowledge of Mr Greeley I am chiefly indebted to David P. +Rhoades, his publisher, to Philip Fitzpatrick, his pressman, to the +files of the Tribune and to many books. + +IRVING BACHELLER +New York City, 7 April 1900 + + + + +BOOK ONE + + + +Chapter I + + +Of all the people that ever went west that expedition was the most +remarkable. + +A small boy in a big basket on the back of a jolly old man, who +carried a cane in one hand, a rifle in the other; a black dog serving +as scout, skirmisher and rear guard - that was the size of it. They +were the survivors of a ruined home in the north of Vermont, and +were travelling far into the valley of the St Lawrence, but with no +particular destination. + +Midsummer had passed them in their journey; their clothes were +covered with dust; their faces browning in the hot sun. It was a +very small boy that sat inside the basket and clung to the rim, his +tow head shaking as the old man walked. He saw wonderful +things, day after day, looking down at the green fields or peering +into the gloomy reaches of the wood; and he talked about them. + +'Uncle Eb - is that where the swifts are?' he would ask often; and +the old man would answer, 'No; they ain't real sassy this time o' +year. They lay 'round in the deep dingles every day.' + +Then the small voice would sing idly or prattle with an imaginary +being that had a habit of peeking over the edge of the basket or +would shout a greeting to some bird or butterfly and ask finally: +'Tired, Uncle Eb?' + +Sometimes the old gentleman would say 'not very', and keep on, +looking thoughtfully at the ground. Then, again, he would stop and +mop his bald head with a big red handkerchief and say, a little +tremor of irritation in his voice: 'Tired! who wouldn't be tired with +a big elephant like you on his back all day? I'd be 'shamed o' +myself t' set there an' let an old man carry me from Dan to +Beersheba. Git out now an' shake yer legs.' + +I was the small boy and I remember it was always a great relief to +get out of the basket, and having run ahead, to lie in the grass +among the wild flowers, and jump up at him as he came along. + +Uncle Eb had been working for my father five years before I was +born. He was not a strong man and had never been able to carry +the wide swath of the other help in the fields, but we all loved him +for his kindness and his knack of story-telling. He was a bachelor +who came over the mountain from Pleasant Valley, a little bundle +of clothes on his shoulder, and bringing a name that enriched the +nomenclature of our neighbourhood. It was Eben Holden. + +He had a cheerful temper and an imagination that was a very +wilderness of oddities. Bears and panthers growled and were very +terrible in that strange country. He had invented an animal more +treacherous than any in the woods, and he called it a swift. +'Sumthin' like a panther', he described the look of it a fearsome +creature that lay in the edge of the woods at sundown and made a +noise like a woman crying, to lure the unwary. It would light one's +eye with fear to hear Uncle Eb lift his voice in the cry of the swift. +Many a time in the twilight when the bay of a hound or some far +cry came faintly through the wooded hills, I have seen him lift his +hand and bid us hark. And when we had listened a moment, our +eyes wide with wonder, he would turn and say in a low, +half-whispered tone: ' 'S a swift' I suppose we needed more the fear +of God, but the young children of the pioneer needed also the fear +of the woods or they would have strayed to their death in them. + +A big bass viol, taller than himself, had long been the solace of his +Sundays. After he had shaved - a ceremony so solemn that it +seemed a rite of his religion - that sacred viol was uncovered. He +carried it sometimes to the back piazza and sometimes to the barn, +where the horses shook and trembled at the roaring thunder of the +strings. When he began playing we children had to get well out of +the way, and keep our distance. I remember now the look of him, +then - his thin face, his soft black eyes, his long nose, the suit of +broadcloth, the stock and standing collar and, above all, the +solemnity in his manner when that big devil of a thing was leaning +on his breast. + +As to his playing I have never heard a more fearful sound in any +time of peace or one less creditable to a Christian. Weekdays he +was addicted to the milder sin of the flute and, after chores, if +there were no one to talk with him, he would sit long and pour his +soul into that magic bar of boxwood. + +Uncle Eb had another great accomplishment. He was what they +call in the north country 'a natural cooner'. After nightfall, when +the corn was ripening, he spoke in a whisper and had his ear +cocked for coons. But he loved all kinds of good fun. + +So this man had a boy in his heart and a boy in his basket that +evening we left the old house. My father and mother and older +brother had been drowned in the lake, where they had gone for a +day of pleasure. I had then a small understanding of my loss, hat I +have learned since that the farm was not worth the mortgage and +that everything had to be sold. Uncle Eb and I - a little lad, a very +little lad of six - were all that was left of what had been in that +home. Some were for sending me to the county house; but they +decided, finally, to turn me over to a dissolute uncle, with some +allowance for my keep. Therein Uncle Eb was to be reckoned +with. He had set his heart on keeping me, but he was a farm-hand +without any home or visible property and not, therefore, in the +mind of the authorities, a proper guardian. He had me with him in +the old house, and the very night he heard they were coming after +me in the morning, we started on our journey. I remember he was a +long time tying packages of bread and butter and tea and boiled +eggs to the rim of the basket, so that they hung on the outside. +Then he put a woollen shawl and an oilcloth blanket on the +bottom, pulled the straps over his shoulders and buckled them, +standing before the looking-glass, and, hang put on my cap and +coat, stood me on the table, and stooped so that I could climb into +the basket - a pack basket, that he had used in hunting, the top a +little smaller than the bottom. Once in, I could stand comfortably +or sit facing sideways, my back and knees wedged from port to +starboard. With me in my place he blew out the lantern and groped +his way to the road, his cane in one hand, his rifle in the other. +Fred, our old dog - a black shepherd, with tawny points - came +after us. Uncle Eb scolded him and tried to send him back, but I +pleaded for the poor creature and that settled it, he was one of our +party. + +'Dunno how we'll feed him,' said Uncle Eb. 'Our own mouths are +big enough t' take all we can carry, but I hain' no heart t' leave 'im +all 'lone there.' + +I was old for my age, they tell me, and had a serious look and a +wise way of talking, for a boy so young; but I had no notion of +what lay before or behind us. + +'Now, boy, take a good look at the old house,' I remember he +whispered to me at the gate that night ''Tain't likely ye'll ever see it +ag'in. Keep quiet now,' he added, letting down the bars at the foot +of the lane. 'We're goin' west an' we mustn't let the grass grow +under us. Got t'be purty spry I can tell ye.' + +It was quite dark and he felt his way carefully down the cow-paths +into the broad pasture. With every step I kept a sharp lookout for +swifts, and the moon shone after a while, making my work easier. + +I had to hold my head down, presently, when the tall brush began +to whip the basket and I heard the big boots of Uncle Eb ripping +the briars. Then we came into the blackness of the thick timber +and I could hear him feeling his way over the dead leaves with his +cane. I got down, shortly, and walked beside him, holding on to the +rifle with one hand. We stumbled, often, and were long in the trail +before we could see the moonlight through the tree columns. In the +clearing I climbed to my seat again and by and by we came to the +road where my companion sat down resting his load on a boulder. + +'Pretty hot, Uncle Eb, pretty hot,' he said to himself, fanning his +brow with that old felt hat he wore everywhere. 'We've come three +mile er more without a stop an' I guess we'd better rest a jiffy.' + +My legs ached too, and I was getting very sleepy. I remember the +jolt of the basket as he rose, and hearing him say, 'Well, Uncle Eb, +I guess we'd better be goin'.' + +The elbow that held my head, lying on the rim of the basket, was +already numb; but the prickling could no longer rouse me, and +half-dead with weariness, I fell asleep. Uncle Eb has told me since, +that I tumbled out of the basket once, and that he had a time of it +getting me in again, but I remember nothing more of that day's +history. + +When I woke in the morning, I could hear the crackling of fire, and +felt very warm and cosy wrapped in the big shawl. I got a cheery +greeting from Uncle Eb, who was feeding the fire with a big heap +of sticks that he had piled together. Old Fred was licking my hands +with his rough tongue, and I suppose that is what waked me. Tea +was steeping in the little pot that hung over the fire, and our +breakfast of boiled eggs and bread and butter lay on a paper beside +it. I remember well the scene of our little camp that morning. We +had come to a strange country, and there was no road in sight. A +wooded hill lay back of us, and, just before, ran a noisy little +brook, winding between smooth banks, through a long pasture into +a dense wood. Behind a wall on the opposite shore a great field of +rustling corn filled a broad valley and stood higher than a man's +head. + +While I went to wash my face in the clear water Uncle Eb was +husking some ears of corn that he took out of his pocket, and had +them roasting over the fire in a moment. We ate heartily, giving +Fred two big slices of bread and butter, packing up with enough +remaining for another day. Breakfast over we doused the fire and +Uncle Eb put on his basket He made after a squirrel, presently, +with old Fred, and brought him down out of a tree by hurling +stones at him and then the faithful follower of our camp got a bit +of meat for his breakfast. We climbed the wall, as he ate, and +buried ourselves in the deep corn. The fragrant, silky tassels +brushed my face and the corn hissed at our intrusion, crossing its +green sabers in our path. Far in the field my companion heaped a +little of the soft earth for a pillow, spread the oil cloth between +rows and, as we lay down, drew the big shawl over us. Uncle Eb +was tired after the toil of that night and went asleep almost as soon +as he was down. Before I dropped off Fred came and licked my +face and stepped over me, his tail wagging for leave, and curled +upon the shawl at my feet. I could see no sky in that gloomy green +aisle of corn. This going to bed in the morning seemed a foolish +business to me that day and I lay a long time looking up at the +rustling canopy overhead. I remember listening to the waves that +came whispering out of the further field, nearer and nearer, until +they swept over us with a roaring swash of leaves, like that of +water flooding among rocks, as I have heard it often. A twinge of +homesick ness came to me and the snoring of Uncle Eb gave me +no comfort. I remember covering my head and crying softly as I +thought of those who had gone away and whom I was to meet in a +far country, called Heaven, whither we were going. I forgot my +sorrow, finally, in sleep. When I awoke it had grown dusk under +the corn. I felt for Uncle Eb and he was gone. Then I called to him. + +'Hush, boy! lie low,' he whispered, bending over me, a sharp look +in his eye.' 'Fraid they're after us.' + +He sat kneeling beside me, holding Fred by the collar and +listening. I could hear voices, the rustle of the corn and the tramp +of feet near by. It was thundering in the distance - that heavy, +shaking thunder that seems to take hold of the earth, and there +were sounds in the corn like the drawing of sabers and the rush of +many feet. The noisy thunder clouds came nearer and the voices +that had made us tremble were no longer heard. Uncle Eb began to +fasten the oil blanket to the stalks of corn for a shelter. The rain +came roaring over us. The sound of it was like that of a host of +cavalry coming at a gallop. We lay bracing the stalks, the blanket +tied above us and were quite dry for a time. The rain rattled in the +sounding sheaves and then came flooding down the steep gutters. +Above us beam and rafter creaked, swaying, and showing glimpses +of the dark sky. The rain passed - we could hear the last battalion +leaving the field - and then the tumult ended as suddenly as it +began. The corn trembled a few moments and hushed to a faint +whisper. Then we could hear only the drip of raindrops leaking +through the green roof. It was dark under the corn. + + + +Chapter 2 + +We heard no more of the voices. Uncle Eb had brought an armful +of wood, and some water in the teapot, while I was sleeping. As +soon as the rain had passed he stood listening awhile and shortly +opened his knife and made a little clearing in the corn by cutting a +few hills. + +'We've got to do it,' he said, 'er we can't take any comfort, an' the +man tol' me I could have all the corn I wanted.' + +'Did you see him, Uncle Eb?' I remember asking. + +'Yes,' he answered, whittling in the dark. 'I saw him when I went +out for the water an' it was he tol' me they were after us.' + +He took a look at the sky after a while, and, remarking that he +guessed they couldn't see his smoke now, began to kindle the fire. +As it burned up he stuck two crotches and hung his teapot on a +stick' that lay in them, so it took the heat of the flame, as I had seen +him do in the morning. Our grotto, in the corn, was shortly as +cheerful as any room in a palace, and our fire sent its light into the +long aisles that opened opposite, and nobody could see the warm +glow of it but ourselves. + +'We'll hev our supper,' said Uncle Eb, as he opened a paper and +spread out the eggs and bread and butter and crackers. 'We'll jest +hev our supper an' by 'n by when everyone's abed we'll make tracks +in the dirt, I can tell ye.' + +Our supper over, Uncle Eb let me look at his tobacco-box - a shiny +thing of German silver that always seemed to snap out a quick +farewell to me before it dove into his pocket. He was very cheerful +and communicative, and joked a good deal as we lay there waiting +in the firelight. I got some further acquaintance with the swift, +learning among other things that it had no appetite for the pure in +heart. + +'Why not?' I enquired. + +'Well,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's like this: the meaner the boy, the sweeter +the meat.' + +He sang an old song as he sat by the fire, with a whistled interlude +between lines, and the swing of it, even now, carries me back to +that far day in the fields. I lay with my head in his lap while he was +singing. + +Years after, when I could have carried him on my back' he wrote +down for me the words of the old song. Here they are, about as he +sang them, although there are evidences of repair, in certain lines, +to supply the loss of phrases that had dropped out of his memory: + + I was goin' to Salem one bright summer day, + I met a young maiden a goin' my way; + O, my fallow, faddeling fallow, faddel away. + + An' many a time I had seen her before, + But I never dare tell 'er the love thet I bore. + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'Oh, where are you goin' my purty fair maid?' + 'O, sir, I am goin' t' Salem,' she said. + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'O, why are ye goin' so far in a day? + Fer warm is the weather and long is the way.' + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'O, sir I've forgorten, I hev, I declare, + But it's nothin' to eat an' its nothin' to wear.' + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'Oho! then I hev it, ye purty young miss! + I'll bet it is only three words an' a kiss.' + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'Young woman, young woman, O how will it dew + If I go see yer lover 'n bring 'em t' you?' + O, my fallow, etc. + + ''S a very long journey,' says she, 'I am told, + An' before ye got back, they would surely be cold.' + O, my fallow, etc. + + 'I hev 'em right with me, I vum an' I vow, + An' if you don't object I'll deliver 'em now.' + O, my fallow, etc. + + She laid her fair head all on to my breast, + An' ye wouldn't know more if I tol' ye the rest + O, my fallow, etc. + +I went asleep after awhile in spite of all, right in the middle of a +story. The droning voice of Uncle Eb and the feel of his hand upon +my forehead called me back, blinking, once or twice, but not for +long. The fire was gone down to a few embers when Uncle Eb +woke me and the grotto was lit only by a sprinkle of moonlight +from above. + +'Mos' twelve o'clock,' he whispered. 'Better be off.' + +The basket was on his back and he was all ready. I followed him +through the long aisle of corn, clinging to the tall of his coat. The +golden lantern of the moon hung near the zenith and when we +came out in the open we could see into the far fields. I climbed +into my basket at the wall and as Uncle Eb carried me over the +brook, stopping on a flat rock midway to take a drink, I could see +the sky in the water, and it seemed as if a misstep would have +tumbled me into the moon. + +'Hear the crickets holler,' said Uncle Eb, as he followed the bank +up into the open pasture. + +'What makes 'em holler?' I asked. + +'O, they're jes' filin' their saws an' thinkin'. Mebbe tellin' o' what's +happened 'em. Been a hard day fer them little folks. Terrible flood +in their country. Everyone on em hed t' git up a steeple quick 'she +could er be drownded. They hev their troubles an' they talk 'bout +'em, too.' + +'What do they file their saws for?' I enquired. + +'Well, ye know,' said he, 'where they live the timber's thick an' they +hev hard work clearin' t' mek a home.' + +I was getting too sleepy for further talk. He made his way from +field to field, stopping sometimes to look off at the distant +mountains then at the sky or to whack the dry stalks of mullen with +his cane. I remember he let down some bars after a long walk and +stepped into a smooth roadway. He stood resting a little while, his +basket on the top bar, and then the moon that I had been watching +went down behind the broad rim of his hat and I fell into utter +forgetfulness. My eyes opened on a lovely scene at daylight Uncle +Eb had laid me on a mossy knoll in a bit of timber and through an +opening right in front of us I could see a broad level of shining +water, and the great green mountain on the further shore seemed to +be up to its belly in the sea. + +'Hello there!' said Uncle Eb; 'here we are at Lake Champlain.' + +I could hear the fire crackling and smell the odour of steeping tea. + +'Ye flopped 'round like a fish in thet basket,' said Uncle Eb. ''Guess +ye must a been drearnin' O' bears. Jumped so ye scairt me. Didn't +know but I had a wil' cat on my shoulders.' + +Uncle Eb had taken a fish-line out of his pocket and was tying it to +a rude pole that he had cut and trinmed with his jack-knife. + +'I've found some crawfish here,' he said, 'an' I'm goin' t' try fer a bite +on the p'int O' rocks there.' + +'Goin' t' git some fish, Uncle Eb?' I enquired. + +'Wouldn't say't I was, er wouldn't say't I wasn't,' he answered. 'Jes +goin' t' try.' + +Uncle Eb was always careful not to commit himself on a doubtful +point. He had fixed his hook and sinker in a moment and then we +went out on a rocky point nearby and threw off into the deep +water. Suddenly Uncle Eb gave a jerk that brought a groan out of +him and then let his hook go down again, his hands trembling, his +face severe. + +'By mighty! Uncle Eb,' he muttered to himself, 'I thought we hed +him thet time.' + +He jerked again presently, and then I could see a tug on the line +that made me jump. A big fish came thrashing into the air in a +minute. He tried to swing it ashore, but the pole bent and the fish +got a fresh hold of the water and took the end of the pole under. +Uncle Eb gave it a lift then that brought it ashore and a good bit of +water with it. I remember how the fish slapped me with its wet tail +and sprinkled my face shaking itself between my boots. It was a +big bass and in a little while we had three of them. Uncle Eb +dressed them and laid them over the fire on a gridiron of green +birch, salting them as they cooked. I remember they went with a +fine relish and the last of our eggs and bread and butter went with +them. + +Our breakfast over, Uncle Eb made me promise to stay with Fred +and the basket while he went away to find a man who could row us +across. In about an hour I heard a boat coming and the dog and I +went out on the point of rocks where we saw Uncle Eb and another +man, heading for us, half over the cove. The bow bumped the +rocks beneath us in a minute. Then the stranger dropped his oars +and stood staring at me and the dog. + +'Say, mister,' said he presently, 'can't go no further. There's a +reward offered fer you an' thet boy.' + +Uncle Eb called him aside and was talking to him a long time. + +I never knew what was said, but they came at last and took us into +the boat and the stranger was very friendly. + +When we had come near the landing on the 'York State' side, I +remember he gave us our bearings. + +'Keep t' the woods,' he said, 'till you're out o' harm's way. Don't go +near the stage road fer a while. Ye'll find a store a little way up the +mountain. Git yer provisions there an' about eighty rod farther ye'll +strike the trail. It'll take ye over the mountain north an' t' Paradise +Road. Then take the white church on yer right shoulder an' go +straight west.' + +I would not have remembered it so well but for the fact that Uncle +Eb wrote it all down in his account book and that has helped me +over many a slippery place in my memory of those events. At the +store we got some crackers and cheese, tea and coffee, dried beef +and herring, a bit of honey and a loaf of bread that was sliced and +buttered before it was done up. We were off in the woods by nine +o'clock, according to Uncle Eb's diary, and I remember the trail led +us into thick brush where I had to get out and walk a long way. It +was smooth under foot, however, and at noon we came to a slash +in the timber, full of briars that were all aglow with big +blackberries. We filled our hats with them and Uncle Eb found a +spring, beside which we built a fire and had a memorable meal +that made me glad of my hunger. + +Then we spread the oilcloth and lay down for another sleep. We +could see the glow of the setting sun through the tree-tops when +we woke, and began our packing. + +'We'll hev t' hurry,' said Uncle Eb, 'er we'll never git out o' the +woods t'night 'S 'bout six mile er more t' Paradise Road, es I mek it. +Come, yer slower 'n a toad in a tar barrel.' + +We hurried off on the trail and I remember Fred looked very +crestfallen with two big packages tied to his collar. He delayed a bit +by trying to shake them off, but Uncle Eb gave him a sharp word +or two and then he walked along very thoughtfully. Uncle Eb was +a little out of patience that evening, and I thought he bore down +too harshly in his rebuke of the old dog. + +'You shif'less cuss,' he said to him, 'ye'd jes' dew nothin' but chase +squirrels an' let me break my back t' carry yer dinner.' + +It was glooming fast in the thick timber, and Uncle Eb almost ran +with me while the way was plain. The last ringing note of the +wood thrush had died away and in a little while it was so dark I +could distinguish nothing but the looming mass of tree tranks. + +He stopped suddenly and strained his eyes in the dark. Then he +whistled a sharp, sliding note, and the sound of it gave me some +hint of his trouble. + +'Git down, Willie,' said he, 'an' tek my hand. I'm 'fraid we're lost +here 'n the big woods.' + +We groped about for a minute, trying to find the trail. + +'No use,' he said presently, 'we'll hev t' stop right here. Oughter +known berter 'n t' come through s' near sundown. Guess it was +more 'n anybody could do.' + +He built a fire and began to lay out a supper for us then, while Fred +sat down by me to be relieved of his bundles. Our supper was +rather dry, for we had no water, but it was only two hours since we +left the spring, so we were not suffering yet Uncle Eb took out of +the fire a burning brand of pine and went away into the gloomy +woods, holding it above his head, while Fred and I sat by the fire. + +''S lucky we didn't go no further,' he said, as he came in after a +few minutes. 'There's a big prec'pice over yender. Dunno how deep 't +is. Guess we'd a found out purty soon.' + +He cut some boughs of hemlock, growing near us, and spread them +in a little hollow. That done, we covered them with the oilcloth, +and sat down comfortably by the fire. Uncle Eb had a serious look +and was not inclined to talk or story telling. Before turning in he +asked me to kneel and say my prayer as I had done every evening +at the feet of my mother. I remember, clearly, kneeling before my +old companion and hearing the echo of my small voice there in the +dark and lonely woods. + +I remember too, and even more clearly, how he bent his head and +covered his eyes in that brief moment. I had a great dread of +darkness and imagined much evil of the forest, but somehow I had +no fear if he were near me. When we had fixed the fire and lain +down for the night on the fragrant hemlock and covered ourselves +with the shawl, Uncle Eb lay on one side of me and old Fred on the +other, so I felt secure indeed. The night had many voices there in +the deep wood. Away in the distance I could hear a strange, wild +cry, and I asked what it was and Uncle Eb whispered back, ' 's a +loon.' Down the side of the mountain a shrill bark rang in the +timber and that was a fox, according to my patient oracle. Anon +we heard the crash and thunder of a falling tree and a murmur that +followed in the wake of the last echo. + +'Big tree fallin'!' said Uncle Eb, as he lay gaping. 'It has t' break a +way t' the ground an' it must hurt. Did ye notice how the woods +tremble? If we was up above them we could see the hole thet tree +hed made. Jes' like an open grave till the others hev filed it with +their tops.' + +My ears had gone deaf with drowsiness when a quick stir in the +body of Uncle Eb brought me back to my senses. He was up on his +elbow listening and the firelight had sunk to a glimmer. Fred lay +shivering and growling beside me. I could hear no other sound. + +'Be still,' said Uncle Eb, as he boxed the dog's ears. Then he rose +and began to stir the fire and lay on more wood. As the flame +leaped and threw its light into the tree-tops a shrill cry, like the +scream of a frightened woman, only louder and more terrible to +hear brought me to my feet, crying. I knew the source of it was +near us and ran to Uncle Eb in a fearful panic. + +'Hush, boy,' said he as it died away and went echoing in the far +forest. 'I'll take care o' you. Don't be scairt. He's more 'fraid uv us +than we are o' him. He's makin' off now.' + +We heard then a great crackling of dead brush on the mountain +above us. It grew fainter as we listened. In a little while the woods +were silent. + +'It's the ol' man o' the woods,' said Uncle Eb. 'E's out takin' a walk.' + +'Will he hurt folks?' I enquired. + +'Tow!' he answered, 'jest as harmless as a kitten.' + + + +Chapter 3 + +Naturally there were a good many things I wanted to know about +'the ol' man o' the woods,' but Uncle Eb would take no part in any +further conversation. + +So I had to lie down beside him again and think out the problem as +best I could. My mind was never more acutely conscious and it +gathered many strange impressions, wandering in the kingdom of +Fear, as I looked up at the tree-tops. Uncle Eb had built a furious +fire and the warmth of it made me sleepy at last. Both he and old +Fred had been snoring a long time when I ceased to hear them. +Uncle Eb woke me at daylight, in the morning, and said we must +be off to find the trail. He left me by the fire a little while and went +looking on all sides and came back no wiser. We were both thirsty +and started off on rough footing, without stopping to eat. We +climbed and crawled for hours, it seemed to me, and everywhere +the fallen tree trunks were heaped in our way. Uncle Eb sat down +on one of them awhile to rest. + +'Like the bones o' the dead,' said he, as he took a chew of tobacco +and picked at the rotten skeleton of a fallen tree. We were both +pretty well out of breath and of hope also, if I remember rightly, +when we rested again under the low hanging boughs of a basswood +for a bite of luncheon. Uncle Eb opened the little box of honey and +spread some of it on our bread and butter. In a moment I noticed +that half a dozen bees had lit in the open box. + +'Lord Harry! here's honey bees,' said he, as he covered the box so as +to keep them in, and tumbled everything else into the basket. +'Make haste now, Willie, and follow me with all yer might,' he +added. + +In a minute he let out one of the bees, and started running in the +direction it flew. It went but a few feet and then rose into the +tree-top. + +'He's goin' t' git up into the open air,' said Uncle Eb. 'But I've got +his bearins' an' I guess he knows the way all right.' + +We took the direction indicated for a few minutes and then Uncle +Eb let out another prisoner. The bee flew off a little way and then +rose in a slanting course to the tree-tops. He showed us, however, +that we were looking the right way. + +'Them little fellers hev got a good compass,' said Uncle Eb, as we +followed the line of the bees. 'It p'ints home ev'ry time, an' never +makes a mistake.' + +We went further this time before releasing another. He showed us +that we had borne out of our course a little and as we turned to +follow there were half a dozen bees flying around the box, as if +begging for admission. + +'Here they are back agin,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they've told a lot o' +their cronies 'bout the man an' the boy with honey.' + +At length one of them flew over our heads and back in the +direction we had come from. + +'Ah, ha,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's a bee tree an' we've passed it, but I'm +goin' t' keep lettin' 'em in an' out. Never heard uv a swarm o' bees +goin' fur away an' so we mus' be near the clearin'.' + +In a little while we let one go that took a road of its own. The +others had gone back over our heads; this one bore off to the right +in front of us, and we followed. I was riding in the basket and was +first to see the light of the open through the tree-tops. But I didn't +know what it meant until I heard the hearty 'hurrah' of Uncle Eb. + +We had come to smooth footing in a grove of maples and the clean +trunks of the trees stood up as straight as a granite column. +Presently we came out upon wide fields of corn and clover, and as +we looked back upon the grove it had a rounded front and I think +of it now as the vestibule of the great forest. + +'It's a reg'lar big tomb,' said Uncle Eb, looking back over his +shoulder into the gloomy cavern of the woods. + +We could see a log house in the clearing, and we made for it as +fast as our legs would carry us. We had a mighty thirst and when +we came to a little brook in the meadow we laid down and drank +and drank until we were fairly grunting with fullness. Then we +filled our teapot and went on. Men were reaping with their cradles +in a field of grain and, as we neared the log house, a woman came +out in the dooryard and, lifting a shell to her lips, blew a blast that +rushed over the clearing and rang in the woods beyond it A loud +halloo came back from the men. + +A small dog rushed out at Fred, barking, and, I suppose, with some +lack of respect, for the old dog laid hold of him in a violent temper +and sent him away yelping. We must have presented an evil aspect, +for our clothes were torn and we were both limping with fatigue. +The woman had a kindly face and, after looking at us a moment, +came and stooped before me and held my small face in her hands +turning it so she could look into my eyes. + +'You poor little critter,' said she, 'where you goin'?' + +Uncle Eb told her something about my father and mother being +dead and our going west Then she hugged and kissed me and made +me very miserable, I remember, wetting my face with her tears, +that were quite beyond my comprehension. + +'Jethro,' said she, as the men came into the yard, 'I want ye t' look +at this boy. Did ye ever see such a cunnin' little critter? Jes' look at +them bright eyes!' and then she held me to her breast and nearly +smothered me and began to hum a bit of an old song. + +'Yer full o' mother love,' said her husband, as he sat down on the +grass a moment 'Lost her only baby, an' the good Lord has sent no +other. I swan, he has got putty eyes. Jes' as blue as a May flower. +Ain't ye hungry? Come right in, both o' ye, an' set down t' the table +with us.' + +They made room for us and we sat down between the bare elbows +of the hired men. I remember my eyes came only to the top of the +table. So the good woman brought the family Bible and sitting on +that firm foundation I ate my dinner of salt pork and potatoes and +milk gravy a diet as grateful as it was familiar to my taste. + +'Orphan, eh?' said the man of the house, looking down at me. + +'Orphan,' Uncle Eb answered, nodding his head. + +'God-fearin' folks?' + +'Best in the world,' said Uncle Eb. + +Want t' bind 'im out?' the man asked. + +'Couldn't spare 'im,' said Uncle Eb, decisively. + +'Where ye goin'?' + +Uncle Eb hesitated, groping for an answer, I suppose, that would +do no violence to our mutual understanding. + +'Goin' t' heaven,' I ventured to say presently - an answer that gave +rise to conflicting emotions at the table. + +'That's right,' said Uncle Eb, turning to me and patting my head. +'We're on the road t' heaven, I hope, an' ye'll see it someday, sartin +sure, if ye keep in the straight road and be a good boy.' + +After dinner the good woman took off my clothes and put me in +bed while she mended them. I went asleep then and did not awake +for a long time. When I got up at last she brought a big basin of +water and washed me with such motherly tenderness in voice and +manner that I have never forgotten it. Uncle Eb lay sleeping on the +lounge and when she had finished dressing me, Fred and I went out +to play in the garden. It was supper time in a little while and then, +again, the woman winded the shell and the men came up from the +field. We sat down to eat with them, as we had done at noon, and +Uncle Eb consented to spend the night after some urging. He +helped them with the milking, and as I stood beside him shot a jet +of the warm white flood into my mouth, that tickled it so I ran +away laughing. The milking done, I sat on Uncle Eb's knee in the +door-yard with all the rest of that household, hearing many tales of +the wilderness, and of robbery and murder on Paradise Road. I got +the impression that it was a country of unexampled wickedness +and ferocity in men and animals. One man told about the ghost of +Burnt Bridge; how the bridge had burnt one afternoon and how a +certain traveller in the dark of the night driving down the hill +above it, fell to his death at the brink of the culvert. + +'An' every night since then,' said the man, very positively, ye can +hear him drivin' down thet bill - jes' as plain as ye can hear me +talkin' - the rattle o' the wheels an' all. It stops sudden an' then ye +can hear 'im hit the rocks way down there at the bottom O' the +gulley an' groan an' groan. An' folks say it's a curse on the town for +leavin' thet hole open.' + +'What's a ghost, Uncle Eb?' I whispered. + +'Somethin' like a swift,' he answered, 'but not so powerful. We +heard a panther las' night,' he added, turning to our host. 'Hollered +like sin when he see the fire.' + +'Scairt!' said the man o' the house gaping. 'That's what ailed him. +I've lived twenty year on Paradise Road an' it was all woods when I +put up the cabin. Seen deer on the doorstep an' bears in the garden, +an' panthers in the fields. But I tell ye there's no critter so terrible +as a man. All the animals know 'im - how he roars, an' spits fire an' +smoke an' lead so it goes through a body er bites off a leg, mebbe. +Guess they'd made friends with me but them I didn't kill went away +smarting with holes in 'em. An' I guess they told all their people +'bout me - the terrible critter that walked on its hind legs an' lied a +white face an' drew up an' spit 'is teeth into their vitals 'cross a +ten-acre lot. An' putty soon they concluded they didn't want t' hev +no truck with me. They thought thin clearin' was the valley o' death +an' they got very careful. But the deer they kep' peekin' in at me. +Sumthin' funny 'bout a deer - they're so cu'rus. Seem's though they +loved the look o' me an' the taste o' the tame grass. Mebbe God +meant em t' serve in the yoke some way an' be the friend o' man. +They're the outcasts o' the forest - the prey o' the other animals an' +men like 'em only when they're dead. An' they're the purtiest critter +alive an' the spryest an' the mos' graceful.' + +'Men are the mos' terrible of all critters, an' the meanest,' said +Uncle Eb. 'They're the only critters that kill fer fun.' + +'Bedtime,' said our host, rising presently. 'Got t' be up early 'n the +morning.' + +We climbed a ladder to the top floor of the cabin with the hired +men, of whom there were two. The good lady of the house had +made a bed for us on the floor and I remember Fred came up the +ladder too, and lay down beside us. Uncle Eb was up with the men +in the morning and at breakfast time my hostess came and woke +me with kisses and helped me to dress. When we were about going +she brought a little wagon out of the cellar that had been a playing +of her dead boy, and said I could have it. This wonderful wagon +was just the thing for the journey we were making. When I held +the little tongue in my hand I was half-way to heaven already. It +had four stout wheels and a beautiful red box. Her brother had sent +it all the way from New York and it had stood so long in the cellar +it was now much in need of repair. Uncle Eb took it to the tool +shop in the stable and put it in shipshape order and made a little +pair of thills to go in place of the tongue. Then he made a big flat +collar and a back-pad out of the leather in old boot-legs, and rigged +a pair of tugs out of two pieces of rope. Old Fred was quite cast +down when he stood in harness between the shafts. + +He had waited patiently to have his collar fitted; he had grinned +and panted and wagged his tail with no suspicion of the serious +and humiliating career he was entering upon. Now he stood with a +sober face and his aspect was full of meditation. + +'You fightin' hound!' said Uncle Eb, 'I hope this'll improve yer +character.' + +Fred tried to sit down when Uncle Eb tied a leading rope to his +collar. When he heard the wheels rattle and felt the pull of the +wagon he looked back at it and growled a little and started to run. +Uncle Eb shouted 'whoa', and held him back, and then the dog got +down on his belly and trembled until we patted his head and gave +him a kind word. He seemed to understand presently and came +along with a steady stride. Our hostess met us at the gate and the +look of her face when she bade us goodbye and tucked some +cookies into my pocket, has always lingered in my memory and +put in me a mighty respect for all women. The sound of her voice, +the tears, the waving of her handkerchief, as we went away, are +among the things that have made me what I am. + +We stowed our packages in the wagon box and I walked a few +miles and then got into the empty basket. Fred tipped his load over +once or twice, but got a steady gait in the way of industry after a +while and a more cheerful look. We had our dinner by the roadside +on the bank of a brook, an hour or so after midday, and came to a +little village about sundown. As we were nearing it there was some +excitement among the dogs and one of them tackled Fred. He went +into battle very promptly, the wagon jumping and rattling until it +turned bottom up. Re-enforced by Uncle Eb's cane he soon saw the +heels of his aggressor and stood growling savagely. He was like +the goal in a puzzle maze all wound and tangled in his harness and +it took some time to get his face before him and his feet free. + +At a small grocery where groups of men, just out of the fields, +were sitting, their arms bare to the elbows, we bought more bread +and butter. In paying for it Uncle Eb took a package out of his +trouser pocket to get his change. It was tied in a red handkerchief +and I remember it looked to be about the size of his fist. He was +putting it back when it fell from his hand, heavily, and I could hear +the chink of coin as it struck. One of the men, who sat near, picked +it up and gave it back to him. As I remember well, his kindness +had an evil flavour, for he winked at his companions, who nudged +each other as they smiled knowingly. Uncle Eb was a bit cross, +when I climbed into the basket, and walked along in silence so +rapidly it worried the dog to keep pace. The leading rope was tied +to the stock of the rifle and Fred's walking gait was too slow for +the comfort of his neck. + +'You shifless cuss! I'll put a kink in your neck fer you if ye don't +walk up,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked back at the dog, in a temper +wholly unworthy of him. + +We had crossed a deep valley and were climbing a long hill in the +dusky twilight. + +'Willie,' said Uncle Eb, 'your eyes are better'n mine - look back +and see if anyone's comin'.' + +'Can't see anyone,' I answered. + +'Look 'way back in the road as fur as ye can see. + +I did so, but I could see no one. He slackened his pace a little after +that and before we had passed the hill it was getting dark. The road +ran into woods and a river cut through them a little way from the +clearing. + +'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' I suggested, as we came to the bridge. + +'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' he answered, turning down to the shore. + +I got out of the basket then and followed him in the brush. Fred +found it hard travelling here and shortly we took off his harness +and left the wagon, transferring its load to the basket, while we +pushed on to find a camping place. Back in the thick timber a long +way from the road, we built a fire and had our supper. It was a dry +nook in the pines -'tight as a house,' Uncle Eb said - and carpeted +with the fragrant needles. When we lay on our backs in the +firelight I remember the weary, droning voice of Uncle Eb had an +impressive accompaniment of whispers. While he told stories I +had a glowing cinder on the end of a stick and was weaving fiery +skeins in the gloom. + +He had been telling me of a panther he had met in the woods, one +day, and how the creature ran away at the sight of him. + +'Why's a panther 'fraid o' folks?' I enquired. + +'Wall, ye see, they used t' be friendly, years 'n years ago - folks 'n +panthers - but they want eggszac'ly cal'lated t' git along t'gether +some way. An' ol' she panther gin 'em one uv her cubs, a great +while ago, jes t' make frien's. The cub he grew big 'n used t' play 'n +be very gentle. They wuz a boy he tuk to, an' both on 'em got very +friendly. The boy 'n the panther went off one day 'n the woods - +guess 'twas more 'n a hundred year ago - an' was lost. Walked all +over 'n fin'ly got t' goin' round 'n round 'n a big circle 'til they was +both on 'em tired out. Come night they lay down es hungry es tew +bears. The boy he was kind o' 'fraid 'o the dark, so he got up clus t' +the panther 'n lay 'tween his paws. The boy he thought the panther +smelt funny an' the panther he didn't jes' like the smell o' the boy. +An' the boy he hed the legache 'n kicked the panther 'n the belly, so +'t he kin' o' gagged 'n spit an' they want neither on 'em reel +comf'able. The sof paws o' the panther was jes' like pincushions. +He'd great hooks in 'em sharper 'n the p'int uv a needle. An' when +he was goin' t' sleep he'd run 'em out jes' like an ol' cat - kind o' +playfull - 'n purr 'n pull. All t' once the boy felt sumthin' like a lot o' +needles prickin' his back. Made him jump 'n holler like Sam Hill. +The panther he spit sassy 'n riz up 'n smelt o' the ground. Didn't +neither on 'em know what was the matter. Bime bye they lay down +ag'in. 'Twant only a little while 'fore the boy felt somethin' prickin' +uv him. He hollered 'n kicked ag'in. The panther he growled 'n spit +'n dumb a tree 'n sot on a limb 'n peeked over at thet queer little +critter. Couldn't neither on 'em understan' it. The boy c'u'd see the +eyes o' the panther 'n the dark. Shone like tew live coals eggszac'ly. +The panther 'd never sot 'n a tree when he was hungry, 'n see a boy +below him. Sumthin' tol' him t' jump. Tail went swish in the leaves +like thet. His whiskers quivered, his tongue come out. C'u'd think +o' nuthin' but his big empty belly. The boy was scairt. He up with +his gun quick es a flash. Aimed at his eyes 'n let 'er flicker. Blew a +lot o' smoke 'n bird shot 'n paper waddin' right up in t' his face. The +panther he lost his whiskers 'n one eye 'n got his hide fill' o' shot 'n +fell off the tree like a ripe apple 'n run fer his life. Thought he'd +never see nuthin' c'u'd growl 'n spits ' powerful es thet boy. Never +c'u'd bear the sight uv a man after thet. Allwus made him gag 'n +spit t' think o' the man critter. Went off tew his own folks 'n tol' o' +the boy 'at spit fire 'n smoke 'n growled so't almos' tore his ears off +An' now, whenever they hear a gun go off they allwus thank it's the +man critter growlin'. An' they gag 'n spit 'n look es if it made 'em +sick t' the stomach. An' the man folks they didn't hev no good +'pimon o' the panthers after thet. Haint never been frien's any more. +Fact is a man, he can be any kind uv a beast, but a panther he can't +be nuthin' but jest a panther.' + +Then, too, as we lay there in the firelight, Uncle Eb told the +remarkable story of the gingerbread hear. He told it slowly, as if +his invention were severely taxed. + +'Once they wuz a boy got lost. Was goin' cross lots t' play with +'nother boy 'n lied t' go through a strip o' woods. Went off the trail +t' chase a butterfly 'n got lost. Hed his kite 'n' cross-gun 'n' he +wandered all over 'til he was tired 'n hungry. Then he lay down t' +cry on a bed o' moss. Putty quick they was a big black bear come +along. + +'"What's the matter?" said the bear. + +'"Hungry," says the boy. + +'"Tell ye what I'll dew," says the bear. "If ye'll scratch my back fer +me I'll let ye cut a piece o' my tail off t' eat." + +'Bear's tail, ye know, hes a lot o' meat on it - heam tell it was gran' +good fare. So the boy he scratched the bear's back an' the bear he +grinned an' made his paw go patitty-pat on the ground - it did feel +so splendid. Then the boy tuk his jack-knife 'n begun t' cut off the +bear's tail. The bear he flew mad 'n growled 'n growled so the boy +he stopped 'n didn't dast cut no more. + +'"Hurts awful," says the bear. "Couldn't never stan' it. Tell ye what +I'll dew. Ye scratched my back an' now I'll scratch your'n." + +'Gee whiz!' said I. + +'Yessir, that's what the bear said,' Uncle Eb went on. 'The boy he +up 'n run like a nailer. The bear he laughed hearty 'n scratched the +ground like Sam Hill, 'n flung the dirt higher'n his head. + +'"Look here," says he, as the boy stopped, "I jes' swallered a piece o +mutton. Run yer hand int' my throat an I'll let ye hev it." + +'The bear he opened his mouth an' showed his big teeth.' + +'Whew!' I whistled. + +'Thet's eggszac'ly what he done,' said Uncle Eb. 'He showed 'em +plain. The boy was scairter'n a weasel. The bear he jumped up 'an +down on his hind legs 'n laughed 'n' hollered 'n' shook himself. + +'"Only jes' foolin," says he, when he see the boy was goin' t' run +ag'in. "What ye 'fraid uv?" + +'"Can't bear t' stay here," says the boy, "'less ye'll keep yer mouth +shet." + +'An the bear he shet his mouth 'n pinted to the big pocket 'n his fur +coat 'n winked 'n motioned t' the boy. + +'The bear he reely did hev a pocket on the side uv his big fur coat. +The boy slid his hand in up t' the elbow. Wha' d'ye s'pose he +found?' + +'Durmo,' said I. + +'Sumthin' t' eat,' he continued. 'Boy liked it best uv all things.' + +I guessed everything I could think of, from cookies to beefsteak, +and gave up. + +'Gingerbread,' said he, soberly, at length. + +'Thought ye said bears couldn't talk,' I objected. + +'Wall, the boy 'd fell asleep an' he'd only dreamed o' the bear,' said +Uncle Eb. 'Ye see, bears can talk when boys are dreamin' uv 'em. +Come daylight, the boy got up 'n ketched a crow. Broke his wing +with the cross-gun. Then he tied the kite swing on t' the crow's leg, +an' the crow flopped along 'n the boy followed him 'n bime bye +they come out a cornfield, where the crow'd been used t' comin' fer +his dinner.' + +'What 'come o' the boy?' said I. + +'Went home,' said he, gaping, as he lay on his back and looked up +at the tree-tops. 'An' he allwus said a bear was good comp'ny if he'd +only keep his mouth shet - jes' like some folks I've hearn uv.' + +'An' what 'come o' the crow?' + +'Went t' the ol' crow doctor 'n got his wing fixed,' he said, drowsily. +And in a moment I heard him snoring. + +We had been asleep a long time when the barking of Fred woke us. +I could just see Uncle Eb in the dim light of the fire, kneeling +beside me, the rifle in his hand. + +'I'll fill ye full o' lead if ye come any nearer,' he shouted. + + + +Chapter 4 + +We listened awhile then but heard no sound in the thicket, +although Fred was growling ominously, his hair on end. As for +myself I never had a more fearful hour than that we suffered +before the light of morning came. + +I made no outcry, but clung to my old companion, trembling. He +did not stir for a few minutes, and then we crept cautiously into the +small hemlocks on one side of the opening. + +'Keep still,' he whispered, 'don't move er speak.' + +Presently we heard a move in the brush and then quick as a flash +Uncle Eb lifted his rifle and fired in the direction of it Before the +loud echo had gone off in the woods we heard something break +through the brush at a run. + +''S a man,' said Uncle Eb, as he listened. 'He ain't a losin' no time +nuther.' + +We sat listening as the sound grew fainter, and when it ceased +entirely Uncle Eb said he must have got to the road. After a little +the light of the morning began sifting down through the tree-tops +and was greeted with innumerable songs. + +'He done noble,' said Uncle Eb, patting the old dog as he rose to +poke the fire. 'Putty good chap I call 'im! He can hev half o' my +dinner any time he wants it.' + +'Who do you suppose it was?' I enquired. + +'Robbers, I guess,' he answered, 'an' they'll be layin' fer us when we +go out, mebbe; but, if they are, Fred'll find 'em an' I've got Ol' +Trusty here 'n' I guess thet'll take care uv us.' + +His rifle was always flattered with that name of Ol' Trusty when it +had done him a good turn. + +Soon as the light had come clear he went out in the near woods +with dog and rifle and beat around in the brush. He returned +shortly and said he had seen where they came and went. + +'I'd a killed em deader 'n a door nail,' said he, laying down the old +rifle, 'if they'd a come any nearer.' + +Then we brought water from the river and had our breakfast. Fred +went on ahead of us, when we started for the road, scurrying +through the brush on both sides of the trail, as if he knew what was +expected of him. He flushed a number of partridges and Uncle Eb +killed one of them on our way to the road. We resumed our +journey without any further adventure. It was so smooth and level +under foot that Uncle Eb let me get in the wagon after Fred was +hitched to it The old dog went along soberly and without much +effort, save when we came to hills or sandy places, when I always +got out and ran on behind. Uncle Eb showed me how to brake the +wheels with a long stick going downhill. I remember how it hit the +dog's heels at the first down grade, and how he ran to keep out of +the way of it We were going like mad in half a minute, Uncle Eb +coming after us calling to the dog. Fred only looked over his +shoulder, with a wild eye, at the rattling wagon and ran the harder. +He leaped aside at the bottom and then we went all in a heap. +Fortunately no harm was done. + +'I declare!' said Uncle Eb as he came up to us, puffing like a spent +horse, and picked me up unhurt and began to untangle the harness +of old Fred, 'I guess he must a thought the devil was after him.' + +The dog growled a little for a moment and bit at the harness, but +coaxing reassured him and he went along all right again on the +level. At a small settlement the children came out and ran along +beside my wagon, laughing and asking me questions. Some of +them tried to pet the dog, but old Fred kept to his labour at the +heels of Uncle Eb and looked neither to right nor left. We stopped +under a tree by the side of a narrow brook for our dinner, and one +incident of that meal I think of always when I think of Uncle Eb. It +shows the manner of man he was and with what understanding and +sympathy he regarded every living thing. In rinsing his teapot he +accidentally poured a bit of water on a big bumble-bee. The poor +creature struggled to lift hill, and then another downpour caught +him and still another until his wings fell drenched. Then his breast +began heaving violently, his legs stiffened behind him and he sank, +head downward, in the grass. Uncle Eb saw the death throes of the +bee and knelt down and lifted the dead body by one of its wings. + +'Jes' look at his velvet coat,' he said, 'an' his wings all wet n' stiff. +They'll never carry him another journey. It's too bad a man has t' +kill every step he takes.' + +The bee's tail was moving faintly and Uncle Eb laid him out in the +warm sunlight and fanned him awhile with his hat, trying to bring +back the breath of life. + +'Guilty!' he said, presently, coming back with a sober face. 'Thet's +a dead bee. No tellin' how many was dependent on him er what +plans he bed. Must a gi'n him a lot o' pleasure t' fly round in the +sunlight, workin' every fair day. 'S all over now.' + +He had a gloomy face for an hour after that and many a time, in +the days that followed, I heard him speak of the murdered bee. + +We lay resting awhile after dinner and watching a big city of ants. +Uncle Eb told me how they tilled the soil of the mound every year +and sowed their own kind of grain - a small white seed like rice - +and reaped their harvest in the late summer, storing the crop in +their dry cellars under ground. He told me also the story of the ant +lion - a big beetle that lives in the jungles of the grain and the +grass - of which I remember only an outline, more or less +imperfect. + +Here it is in my own rewording of his tale: On a bright day one of +the little black folks went off on a long road in a great field of +barley. He was going to another city of his own people to bring +helpers for the harvest. He came shortly to a sandy place where the +barley was thin and the hot sunlight lay near to the ground. In a +little valley close by the road of the ants he saw a deep pit, in the +sand, with steep sides sloping to a point in the middle and as big +around as a biscuit. Now the ants are a curious people and go +looking for things that are new and wonderful as they walk abroad, +so they have much to tell worth hearing after a journey. The little +traveller was young and had no fear, so he left the road and went +down to the pit and peeped over the side of it. + +'What in the world is the meaning of this queer place?' he asked +himself as he ran around the rim. In a moment he had stepped over +and the soft sand began to cave and slide beneath him. Quick as a +flash the big lion-beetle rose up in the centre of the pit and began +to reach for him. Then his legs flew in the caving sand and the +young ant struck his blades in it to hold the little he could gain. +Upward he struggled, leaping and floundering in the dust. He had +got near the rim and had stopped, clinging to get his breath, when +the lion began flinging the sand at him with his long feelers. It rose +in a cloud and fell on the back of the ant and pulled at him as it +swept down. He could feel the mighty cleavers of the lion striking +near his hind legs and pulling the sand from under them. He must +go down in a moment and he knew what that meant. He had heard +the old men of the tribe tell often - how they hold one helpless and +slash him into a dozen pieces. He was letting go, in despair, when +he felt a hand on his neck. Looking up he saw one of his own +people reaching over the rim, and in a jiffy they had shut their +fangs together. He moved little by little as the other tagged at him, +and in a moment was out of the trap and could feel the honest +earth under him. When they had got home and told their adventure, +some were for going to slay the beetle. + +'There is never a pit in the path o' duty,' said the wise old chief of +the little black folks. 'See that you keep in the straight road.' + +'If our brother had not left the straight road,' said one who stood +near, 'he that was in danger would have gone down into the pit.' + +'It matters much,' he answered, 'whether it was kindness or +curiosity that led him out of the road. But he that follows a fool +hath much need of wisdom, for if he save the fool do ye not see +that he hath encouraged folly?' + +Of course I had then no proper understanding of the chiefs +counsel, nor do I pretend even to remember it from that first +telling, but the tale was told frequently in the course of my long +acquaintance with Uncle Eb. + +The diary of my good old friend lies before me as I write, the +leaves turned yellow and the entries dim. I remember how stern he +grew of an evening when he took out this sacred little record of our +wanderings and began to write in it with his stub of a pencil. He +wrote slowly and read and reread each entry with great care as I +held the torch for him. 'Be still, boy - be still,' he would say when +some pressing interrogatory passed my lips, and then he would +bend to his work while the point of his pencil bored further into +my patience. Beginning here I shall quote a few entries from the +diary as they cover, with sufficient detail, an uneventful period of +our journey. + +AUGUST 20 Killed a partridge today. Biled it in the teapot for +dinner. Went good. 14 mild. + +AUGUST 21 Seen a deer this morning. Fred fit ag'in. Come near +spilin' the wagon. Hed to stop and fix the ex. 10 mild. + +AUGUST 22 Clumb a tree this morning after wild grapes. Come +near falling. Gin me a little crick in the back. Willie hes got a +stun bruze. 12 mild. + +AUGUST 23 Went in swinmun. Ketched a few fish before +breakfus'. Got provisions an' two case knives an' one fork, also one +tin pie-plate. Used same to fry fish for dinner. 14 mild. + +AUGUST 24 Got some spirits for Willie to rub on my back. Boots +wearing out. Terrible hot. Lay in the shade in the heat of the day. +Gypsies come an' camped by us tonight. 10 mild. + +I remember well the coming of those gypsies. We were fishing in +sight of the road and our fire was crackling on the smooth cropped +shore. The big wagons of the gypsies - there were four of them as +red and beautiful as those of a circus caravan - halted about +sundown while the men came over a moment to scan the field. +Presently they went back and turned their wagons into the siding +and began to unhitch. Then a lot of barefooted children, and +women under gay shawls, overran the field gathering wood and +making ready for night. Meanwhile swarthy drivers took the horses +to water and tethered them with long ropes so they could crop the +grass of the roadside. + +One tall, bony man, with a face almost as black as that of an +Indian, brought a big iron pot and set it up near the water. A big +stew of beef bone, leeks and potatoes began to cook shortly, and I +remember it had such a goodly smell I was minded to ask them for +a taste of it. A little city of strange people had surrounded us of a +sudden. Uncle Eb thought of going on, but the night was coming +fast and there would be no moon and we were footsore and hungry. +Women and children came over to our fire, after supper, and made +more of me than I liked. I remember taking refuge between the +knees of Uncle Eb, and Fred sat close in front of us growling +fiercely when they came too near. They stood about, looking down +at us and whispered together, and one young miss of the tribe came +up and tried to kiss me in spite of Fred's warnings: She had +flashing black eyes and hair as dark as the night, that fell in a +curling mass upon her shoulders; but, somehow, I had a mighty +fear of her and fought with desperation to keep my face from the +touch of her red lips. Uncle Eb laughed and held Fred by the +collar, and I began to cry out in terror, presently, when, to my great +relief, she let go and ran away to her own people. They all went +away to their wagons, save one young man, who was tall with light +hair and a fair skin, and who looked like none of the other gypsies. + +'Take care of yourself,' he whispered, as soon as the rest had gone. +'These are bad people. You'd better be off.' + +The young man left us and Uncle Eb began to pack up at once. +They were going to bed in their wagons when we came away. I +stood in the basket and Fred drew the wagon that had in it only a +few bundles. A mile or more further on we came to a lonely, +deserted cabin close to the road. It had began to thunder in the +distance and the wind was blowing damp. + +'Guess nobody lives here,' said Uncle Eb as he turned in at the +sagging gate and began to cross the little patch of weeds and +hollyhocks behind it 'Door's half down, but I guess it'll de better'n +no house. Goin' t' rain sartin.' + +I was nodding a little about then, I remember; but I was wide +awake when he took me out of the basket The old house stood on a +high hill, and we could see the stars of heaven through the ruined +door and one of the back windows. Uncle Eb lifted the leaning +door a little and shoved it aside. We heard then a quick stir in the +old house - a loud and ghostly rattle it seems now as I think of it - +like that made by linen shaking on the line. Uncle Eb took a step +backward as if it had startled him. + +'Guess it's nuthin' to be 'fraid of;' he said, feeling in the pet of his +coat He had struck a match in a moment. By its flickering light I +could see only a bit of rubbish on the floor. + +'Full o' white owls,' said he, stepping inside, where the rustling was +now continuous. 'They'll do us no harm.' + +I could see them now flying about under the low ceiling. Uncle Eb +gathered an gathered an armful of grass and clover, in the near +field, and spread it in a corner well away from the ruined door and +windows. Covered with our blanket it made a fairly comfortable +bed. Soon as we had lain down, the rain began to rattle on the +shaky roof and flashes of lightning lit every corner of the old room. + +I have had, ever, a curious love of storms, and, from the time when +memory began its record in my brain, it has delighted me to hear at +night the roar of thunder and see the swift play of the lightning. I +lay between Uncle Eb and the old dog, who both went asleep +shortly. Less wearied I presume than either of them, for I had done +none of the carrying, and had slept along time that day in the shade +of a tree, I was awake an hour or more after they were snoring. +Every flash lit the old room like the full glare of the noonday sun. I +remember it showed me an old cradle, piled full of rubbish, a rusty +scythe hung in the rotting sash of a window, a few lengths of +stove-pipe and a plough in one corner, and three staring white owls +that sat on a beam above the doorway. The rain roared on the old +roof shortly, and came dripping down through the bare boards +above us. A big drop struck in my face and I moved a little. Then I +saw what made me hold my breath a moment and cover my head +with the shawl. A flash of lightning revealed a tall, ragged man +looking in at the doorway. I lay close to Uncle Eb imagining much +evil of that vision but made no outcry. + +Snugged in between my two companions I felt reasonably secure +and soon fell asleep. The sun, streaming in at the open door, +roused me in the morning. At the beginning of each day of our +journey I woke to find Uncle Eb cooking at the fire. He was lying +beside me, this morning, his eyes open. + +'Fraid I'm hard sick,' he said as I kissed him. + +'What's the matter?' I enquired. + +He struggled to a sitting posture, groaning so it went to my heart. + +'Rheumatiz,' he answered presently. + +He got to his feet, little by little, and every move he made gave +him great pain. With one hand on his cane and the other on my +shoulder he made his way slowly to the broken gate. Even now I +can see clearly the fair prospect of that high place - a valley +reaching to distant hills and a river winding through it, glimmering +in the sunlight; a long wooded ledge breaking into naked, grassy +slopes on one side of the valley and on the other a deep forest +rolling to the far horizon; between them big patches of yellow +grain and white buckwheat and green pasture land and greener +meadows and the straight road, with white houses on either side of +it, glorious in a double fringe of golden rod and purple aster and +yellow John's-wort and the deep blue of the Jacob's ladder. + +'Looks a good deal like the promised land,' said Uncle Eb. 'Hain't +got much further t' go.' + +He sat on the rotting threshold while I pulled some of the weeds in +front of the doorstep and brought kindlings out of the house and +built a fire. While we were eating I told Uncle Eb of the man that I +had seen in the night. + +'Guess you was dreamin',' he said, and, while I stood firm for the +reality of that I had seen, it held our thought only for a brief +moment. My companion was unable to walk that day so we lay by, +in the shelter of the old house, eating as little of our scanty store as +we could do with. I went to a spring near by for water and picked a +good mess of blackberries that I hid away until supper time, so as +to surprise Uncle Eb. A longer day than that we spent in the old +house, after our coming, I have never known. I made the room a +bit tidier and gathered more grass for bedding. Uncle Eb felt better +as the day grew warm. I had a busy time of it that morning bathing +his back in the spirits and rubbing until my small arms ached. I +have heard him tell often how vigorously I worked that day and +how I would say: 'I'll take care o' you, Uncle Eb -won't I, Uncle +Eb?' as my little hands flew with redoubled energy on his bare +skin. That finished we lay down sleeping until the sun was low, +when I made ready the supper that took the last of everything we +had to eat. Uncle Eb was more like himself that evening and, +sitting up in the corner, as the darkness came, told me the story of +Squirreltown and Frog Ferry, which came to be so great a standby +in those days that, even now, I can recall much of the language in +which he told it. + +'Once,' he said, 'there was a boy thet hed two grey squirrels in a +cage. They kep' thinkin' o' the time they used t' scamper in the +tree-tops an' make nests an' eat all the nuts they wanted an' play I +spy in the thick leaves. An they grew poor an' looked kind o' +ragged an' sickly an' downhearted. When he brought 'em outdoors +they used t' look up in the trees an' run in the wire wheel as if they +thought they could get there sometime if they kep' goin'. As the +boy grew older he see it was cruel to keep 'em shet in a cage, but +he'd hed em a long time an' couldn't bear t' give 'em up. + +'One day he was out in the woods a little back o' the clearin'. All t' +once he heard a swift holler. 'Twas nearby an' echoed so he +couldn't tell which way it come from. He run fer home but the +critter ketched 'im before he got out o' the woods an' took 'im into a +cave, an' give 'im t' the little swifts t' play with. The boy cried +terrible. The swifts they laughed an' nudged each other. + +'"O ain't he cute!" says one. "He's a beauty!" says another. "Cur'us +how he can git along without any fur," says the mother swift, as +she run er nose over 'is bare foot. He thought of 'is folks waitin' fer +him an' he begged em t' let 'im go. Then they come an' smelt 'im +over. + +'"Yer sech a cunnin' critter," says the mother swift, "we couldn't +spare ye." + +'"Want to see my mother," says the boy sobbing. + +'"Couldn't afford t' let ye go - yer so cute" says the swift. "Bring the +poor critter a bone an' a bit o' snake meat." + +'The boy couldn't eat. They fixed a bed fer him, but 'twant clean. +The feel uv it made his back ache an' the smell uv it made him sick +to his stomach. + +'"When the swifts hed comp'ny they 'd bring 'em overt' look at him +there 'n his dark corner. "'S a boy," said the mother swift pokin' him +with a long stick "Wouldn't ye like t' see 'im run?" Then she +punched him until he got up an' run 'round the cave fer his life. +Happened one day et a very benevolent swift come int' the cave. + +'"'S a pity t' keep the boy here," said he; "he looks bad." + +'"But he makes fun fer the children," said the swift. + +'"Fun that makes misery is only fit fer a fool," said the visitor. + +'They let him go thet day. Soon as he got hum he thought o' the +squirrels an' was tickled t' find 'em alive. He tak 'em off to an +island, in the middle of a big lake, thet very day, an' set the cage on +the shore n' opened it He thought he would come back sometime +an' see how they was ginin' along. The cage was made of light wire +an' hed a tin bottom fastened to a big piece o' plank. At fust they +was 'fraid t' leave it an' peeked out o' the door an' scratched their +heads's if they thought it a resky business. After awhile one +stepped out careful an' then the other followed. They tried t' climb +a tree, but their nails was wore off an' they kep' fallin' back. Then +they went off 'n the brush t' find some nuts. There was only pines +an' poppies an' white birch an' a few berry bushes on the island. +They went t' the water's edge on every side, but there was nuthin +there a squirrel ud give a flirt uv his tail fer. 'Twas near dark when +they come back t' the cage hungry as tew bears. They found a few +crumbs o' bread in the cup an' divided 'em even. Then they went t' +bed 'n their ol' nest. + +'It hed been rainin' a week in the mount'ins. Thet night the lake +rose a foot er more an' 'fore mornin' the cage begun t' rock a teenty +bit as the water lifted the plank. They slep' all the better fer thet an' +they dreamed they was up in a tree at the end uv a big bough. The +cage begun t' sway sideways and then it let go o' the shore an' spun +'round once er twice an' sailed out 'n the deep water. There was a +light breeze blowin' offshore an' purty soon it was pitchin' like a +ship in the sea. But the two squirrels was very tired an' never woke +up 'til sunrise. They got a terrible scare when they see the water +'round 'em an' felt the motion o' the ship. Both on 'em ran into the +wire wheel an' that bore down the stern o' the ship so the under +wires touched the water. They made it spin like a buzz saw an' got +their clothes all wet. The ship went faster when they worked the +wheel, an' bime bye they got tired an' come out on the main deck. +The water washed over it a little so they clim up the roof thet was +a kin' uv a hurricane deck. It made the ship sway an' rock fearful +but they hung on 'midships, an' clung t' the handle that stuck up +like a top mast. Their big tails was spread over their shoulders, an' +the wind rose an' the ship went faster 'n faster. They could see the +main shore where the big woods come down t' the water 'n' all the +while it kep' a comin' nearer 'n' nearer. But they was so hungry +didn't seem possible they could live to git there. + +'Ye know squirrels are a savin' people. In the day o' plenty they +think o' the day o' poverty an' lay by fer it. All at once one uv 'em +thought uv a few kernels o' corn, he hed pushed through a little +crack in the tin floor one day a long time ago. It happened there +was quite a hole under the crack an' each uv 'em bad stored some +kernels unbeknown t' the other. So they hed a good supper 'n' some +left fer a bite 'n the mornin'. 'Fore daylight the ship made her pott +'n' lay to, 'side liv a log in a little cove. The bullfrogs jumped on +her main deck an' begun t' holler soon as she hove to: "all ashore! +all ashore! all ashore!" The two squirrels woke up but lay quiet 'til +the sun rose. Then they come out on the log 'et looked like a long +dock an' run ashore 'n' foun' some o' their own folks in the bush. +An' when they bed tol' their story the ol' father o' the tribe got up 'n +a tree an' hollered himself hoarse preachin' 'bout how 't paid t' be +savin'. + +'"An' we should learn t' save our wisdom es well es our nuts," said +a sassy brother; "fer each needs his own wisdom fer his own +affairs." + +'An the little ship went back 'n' forth 'cross the cove as the win' +blew. The squirrels hed many a fine ride in her an' the frogs were +the ferrymen. An' all 'long thet shore 'twas known es Frog Ferry +'mong the squirrel folks.' + +It was very dark when he finished the tale an' as we lay gaping a +few minutes after my last query about those funny people of the +lake margin I could hear nothing but the chirping of the crickets. I +was feeling a bit sleepy when I heard the boards creak above our +heads. Uncle Eli raised himself and lay braced upon his elbow +listening. In a few moments we heard a sound as of someone +coming softly down the ladder at the other end of the room. It was +so dark I could see nothing. + +'Who's there?' Uncle Eb demanded. + +'Don't p'int thet gun at me,' somebody whispered. 'This is my home +and I warn ye t' leave it er I'll do ye harm.' + + + +Chapter 5 + +Here I shall quote you again from the diary of Uncle Eb. 'It was so +dark I couldn't see a han' before me. "Don't p'int yer gun at me," the +man whispered. Thought 'twas funny he could see me when I +couldn't see him. Said 'twas his home an' we'd better leave. Tol +him I was sick (rumatiz) an' couldn't stir. Said he was sorry an' +come over near us. Tol' him I was an' ol' man goin' west with a +small boy. Stopped in the rain. Got sick. Out o' purvisions. 'Bout +ready t' die. Did'n know what t' do. Started t' stike a match an' the +man said don't make no light cos I don't want to hev ye see my +face. Never let nobody see my face. Said he never went out 'less +'twas a dark night until folks was abed. Said we looked like good +folks. Scairt me a little cos we couldn't see a thing. Also he said +don't be 'fraid of me. Do what I can fer ye.' + +I remember the man crossed the creaking floor and sat down near +us after he had parleyed with Uncle Eb awhile in whispers. Young +as I was I keep a vivid impression of that night and, aided by the +diary of Uncle Eb, I have made a record of what was said that is, in +the main, accurate. + +'Do you know where you are?' he enquired presently, whispering as +he had done before. + +'I've no idee,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Well, down the hill is Paradise Valley in the township o' Faraway,' +he continued. 'It's the end o' Paradise Road an' a purty country. +Been settled a long time an' the farms are big an' prosperous - kind +uv a land o' plenty. That big house at the foot o' the hill is Dave +Brower's. He's the richest man in the valley.' + +'How do you happen t' be livin' here? - if ye don't min' tellin' me,' +Uncle Eb asked. + +'Crazy,' said he; ''fraid uv everybody an' everybody's 'fraid o' me. +Lived a good long time in this way. Winters I go into the big +woods. Got a camp in a big cave an' when I'm there I see a little +daylight. Here 'n the clearin' I'm only up in the night-time. Thet's +how I've come to see so well in the dark. It's give me cat's eyes.' + +'Don't ye git lonesome?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Awful - sometimes,' he answered with a sad sigh, 'an' it seems +good t' talk with somebody besides myself. I get enough to eat +generally. There are deer in the woods an' cows in the fields, ye +know, an' potatoes an' corn an' berries an' apples, an' all thet kind o' +thing. Then I've got my traps in the woods where I ketch +partridges, an' squirrels an' coons an' all the meat I need. I've got a +place in the thick timber t' do my cookin' - all I want t' do - in the +middle of the night Sometimes I come here an' spend a day in the +garret if I'm caught in a storm or if I happen to stay a little too late +in the valley. Once in a great while I meet a man somewhere in the +open but he always gits away quick as he can. Guess they think I'm +a ghost - dunno what I think o' them.' + +Our host went on talking as if he were glad to tell the secrets of his +heart to some creature of his own kind. I have often wondered at +his frankness; but there was a fatherly tenderness, I remember in +the voice of Uncle Eb, and I judge it tempted his confidence. +Probably the love of companionship can never be so dead in a man +but that the voice of kindness may call it back to life again. + +'I'll bring you a bite t' eat before morning,' he said, presently, as he +rose to go. 'leet me feel o' your han', mister.' + +Uncle Eb gave him his hand and thanked him. + +'Feels good. First I've hed hold of in a long time,' he whispered. + +'What's the day o' the month?' + +'The twenty-fifth.' + +'I must remember. Where did you come from?' + +Uncle Eb told him, briefly, the story of our going west + +'Guess you'd never do me no harm - would ye?' the man asked. 'Not +a bit,' Uncle Eb answered. + +Then he bade us goodbye, crossed the creaking floor and went +away in the darkness. + +'Sing'lar character!' Uncle Eb muttered. + +I was getting drowsy and that was the last I heard. In the morning +we found a small pail of milk sitting near us, a roasted partridge, +two fried fish and some boiled potatoes. It was more than enough +to carry us through the day with a fair allowance for Fred. Uncle +Eb was a bit better but very lame at that and kept to his bed the +greater part of the day. The time went slow with me I remember. +Uncle Eb was not cheerful and told me but one story and that had +no life in it. At dusk he let me go out in the road to play awhile +with Fred and the wagon, but came to the door and called us in +shortly. I went to bed in a rather unhappy flame of mind. The dog +roused me by barking in the middle of the right and I heard again +the familiar whisper of the stranger. + +'Sh-h-h! be still, dog,' he whispered; but I was up to my ears in +sleep and went under shortly, so I have no knowledge of what +passed that night. Uncle Eb tells in his diary that he had a talk with +him lasting more than an hour, but goes no further and never +seemed willing to talk much about that interview or others that +followed it. + +I only know the man had brought more milk and fish and fowl for +us. We stayed another day in the old house, that went like the last, +and the night man came again to see Uncle Eb. The next morning +my companion was able to walk more freely, but Fred and I had to +stop and wait for him very often going down the big hill. I was +mighty glad when we were leaving the musty old house for good +and had the dog hitched with all our traps in the wagon. It was a +bright morning and the sunlight glimmered on the dew in the +broad valley. The men were just coming from breakfast when we +turned in at David Brower's. A barefooted little girl a bit older than +I, with red cheeks and blue eyes and long curly hair, that shone +like gold in the sunlight, came running out to meet us and led me +up to the doorstep, highly amused at the sight of Fred and the +wagon. I regarded her with curiosity and suspicion at first, while +Uncle Eb was talking with the men. I shall never forget that +moment when David Brower came and lifted me by the shoulders, +high above his head, and shook me as if to test my mettle. He led +me into the house then where his wife was working. + +'What do you think of this small bit of a boy?' he asked. + +She had already knelt on the floor and put her arms about my neck +and kissed me. + +'Am' no home,' said he. 'Come all the way from Vermont with an +ol' man. They're worn out both uv 'em. Guess we'd better take 'em +in awhile.' + +'O yes, mother - please, mother,' put in the little girl who was +holding my hand. 'He can sleep with me, mother. Please let him +stay.' + +She knelt beside me and put her arms around my little shoulders +and drew me to her breast and spoke to me very tenderly. + +'Please let him stay,' the girl pleaded again. + +'David,' said the woman, 'I couldn't turn the little thing away. Won't +ye hand me those cookies.' + +And so our life began in Paradise Valley. Ten minutes later I was +playing my first game of 'I spy' with little Hope Brower, among the +fragrant stooks of wheat in the field back of the garden. + + + +Chapter 6 + +The lone pine stood in Brower's pasture, just clear of the woods. +When the sun rose, one could see its taper shadow stretching away +to the foot of Woody Ledge, and at sunset it lay like a fallen mast +athwart the cow-paths, its long top arm a flying pennant on the +side of Bowman's Hill. In summer this bar of shadow moved like a +clock-hand on the green dial of the pasture, and the help could tell +the time by the slant of it. Lone Pine had a mighty girth at the +bottom, and its bare body tapered into the sky as straight as an +arrow. Uncle Eb used to say that its one long, naked branch that +swung and creaked near the top of it, like a sign of hospitality on +the highway of the birds, was two hundred feet above ground. +There were a few stubs here and there upon its shaft -the roost of +crows and owls and hen-hawks. It must have passed for a low +resort in the feathered kingdom because it was only the robbers of +the sky that halted on Lone Pine. + +This towering shaft of dead timber commemorated the ancient +forest through which the northern Yankees cut their trails in the +beginning of the century. They were a tall, big fisted, brawny lot of +men who came across the Adirondacks from Vermont, and began +to break the green canopy that for ages had covered the valley of +the St Lawrence. Generally they drove a cow with them, and such +game as they could kill on the journey supplemented their diet of +'pudding and milk'. Some settled where the wagon broke or where +they had buried a member of the family, and there they cleared the +forests that once covered the smooth acres of today. Gradually the +rough surface of the trail grew smoother until it became Paradise +Road - the well-worn thoroughfare of the stagecoach with its 'inns +and outs', as the drivers used to say - the inns where the 'men folks' +sat in the firelight of the blazing logs after supper and told tales of +adventure until bedtime, while the women sat with their knitting in +the parlour, and the young men wrestled in the stableyard. The +men of middle age had stooped and massive shoulders, and +deep-furrowed brows: Tell one of them he was growing old and he +might answer you by holding his whip in front of him and leaping +over it between his hands. + +There was a little clearing around that big pine tree when David +Brower settled in the valley. Its shadows shifting in the light of sun +and moon, like the arm of a compass, swept the spreading acres of +his farm, and he built his house some forty rods from the foot of it +on higher ground. David was the oldest of thirteen children. His +father had died the year before he came to St Lawrence county, +leaving him nothing but heavy responsibilities. Fortunately, his +great strength and his kindly nature were equal to the burden. +Mother and children were landed safely in their new home on +Bowman's Hill the day that David was eighteen. I have heard the +old folks of that country tell what a splendid figure of a man he +was those days - six feet one in his stockings and broad at the +shoulder. His eyes were grey and set under heavy brows. I have +never forgotten the big man that laid hold of me and the broad +clean-shaven serious face, that looked into mine the day I came to +Paradise Valley. As I write I can see plainly his dimpled chin, his +large nose, his firm mouth that was the key to his character. 'Open +or shet,' I have heard the old folks say, 'it showed he was no fool.' + +After two years David took a wife and settled in Paradise Valley. +He prospered in a small way considered handsome thereabouts. In +a few years he had cleared the rich acres of his farm to the sugar +bush that was the north vestibule of the big forest; he had seen the +clearing widen until he could discern the bare summits of the +distant hills, and, far as he could see, were the neat white houses of +the settlers. Children had come, three of them - the eldest a son +who had left home and died in a far country long before we came +to Paradise Valley - the youngest a baby. + +I could not have enjoyed my new home more if I had been born in +it. I had much need of a mother's tenderness, no doubt, for I +remember with what a sense of peace and comfort I lay on the lap +of Elizabeth Brower, that first evening, and heard her singing as +she rocked. The little daughter stood at her knees, looking down at +me and patting my bare toes or reaching over to feel my face. + +'God sent him to us - didn't he, mother?' said she. + +'Maybe,' Mrs Brower answered, 'we'll be good to him, anyway.' + +Then that old query came into my mind. I asked them if it was +heaven where we were. + +'No,' they answered. + +''Tain't anywhere near here, is it?' I went on. + +Then she told me about the gate of death, and began sowing in me +the seed of God's truth - as I know now the seed of many harvests. +I slept with Uncle Eb in the garret, that night, and for long after we +came to the Brower's. He continued to get better, and was shortly +able to give his hand to the work of the farm. + +There was room for all of us in that ample wilderness of his +imagination, and the cry of the swift woke its echoes every +evening for a time. Bears and panthers prowled in the deep +thickets, but the swifts took a firmer grip on us, being bolder and +more terrible. Uncle Eb became a great favourite in the family, and +David Brower came to know soon that he was 'a good man to +work' and could be trusted 'to look after things'. We had not been +there long when I heard Elizabeth speak of Nehemiah - her lost +son - and his name was often on the lips of others. He was a boy of +sixteen when he went away, and I learned no more of him until +long afterwards. + +A month or more after we came to Faraway, I remember we went +'cross lots in a big box wagon to the orchard on the hill and +gathered apples that fell in a shower when Uncle Eb went up to +shake them down. Then cane the raw days of late October, when +the crows went flying southward before the wind - a noisy pirate +fleet that filled the sky at times - and when we all put on our +mittens and went down the winding cow-paths to the grove of +butternuts in the pasture. The great roof of the wilderness had +turned red and faded into yellow. Soon its rafters began to show +through, and then, in a day or two, they were all bare but for some +patches of evergreen. Great, golden drifts of foliage lay higher than +a man's head in the timber land about the clearing. We had our +best fun then, playing 'I spy' in the groves. + +In that fragrant deep of leaves one might lie undiscovered a long +time. He could hear roaring like that of water at every move of the +finder, wallowing nearer and nearer possibly, in his search. Old +Fred came generally rooting his way to us in the deep drift with +unerring accuracy. + +And shortly winter came out of the north and, of a night, after +rapping at the windows and howling in the chimney and roaring in +the big woods, took possession of the earth. That was a time when +hard cider flowed freely and recollection found a ready tongue +among the older folk, and the young enjoyed many diversions, +including measles and whooping cough. + + + +Chapter 7 + +I had a lot of fun that first winter, but none that I can remember +more gratefully than our trip in the sledgehouse - a tight little +house fitted and fastened to a big sledge. Uncle Eb had to go to +mill at Hillsborough, some twelve miles away, and Hope and I, +after much coaxing and many family counsels, got leave to go with +him. The sky was cloudless, and the frosty air was all aglow in the +sunlight that morning we started. There was a little sheet iron +stove in one corner of the sledgehouse, walled in with zinc and +anchored with wires; a layer of hay covered the floor and over that +we spread our furs and blankets. The house had an open front, and +Uncle Eb sat on the doorstep, as it were, to drive, while we sat +behind him on the blankets. + +'I love you very much,' said Hope, embracing me, after we were +seated. Her affection embarrassed me, I remember. It seemed +unmanly to be petted like a doll. + +'I hate to be kissed,' I said, pulling away from her, at which Uncle +Eb laughed heartily. + +The day came when I would have given half my life for the words +I held so cheaply then. + +'You'd better be good t' me,' she answered, 'for when mother dies +I'm goin' t' take care o' you. Uncle Eb and Gran'ma Bisnette an' you +an' everybody I love is goin' t' come an' live with me in a big, big +house. An' I'm goin' t' put you t' bed nights an' hear ye say yer +prayers an everything.' + +'Who'll do the spankin?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'My husban',' she answered, with a sigh at the thought of all the +trouble that lay before her. + +'An' I'll make him rub your back, too, Uncle Eb,' she added. +'Wall, I rather guess he'll object to that,' said he. + +'Then you can give 'ins five cents, an' I guess he'll be glad t' do it,' +she answered promptly. + +'Poor man! He won't know whether he's runnin' a poorhouse er a +hospital, will he?' said Uncle Eb. 'Look here, children,' he added, +taking out his old leather wallet, as he held the reins between his +knees. 'Here's tew shillin' apiece for ye, an' I want ye t' spend it jest +eggsackly as ye please.' The last words were spoken slowly and +with emphasis. + +We took the two silver pieces that he handed to us and looked +them all over and compared them. + +'I know what I'll do,' said she, suddenly. 'I'm goin' t' buy my mother +a new dress, or mebbe a beautiful ring,' she added thoughtfully. + +For my own part I did not know what I should buy. I wanted a real +gun most of all and my inclination oscillated between that and a +red rocking horse. My mind was very busy while I sat in silence. +Presently I rose and went to Uncle Eb and whispered in his ear. + +'Do you think I could get a real rifle with two shilin'?' I enquired +anxiously. + +'No,' he answered in a low tone that seemed to respect my +confidence. 'Bime by, when you're older, I'll buy ye a rifle - a real +rip snorter, too, with a shiny barrel 'n a silver lock. When ye get +down t, the village ye'll see lots o' things y'd rather hev, prob'ly. If I +was you, children,' he added, in a louder tone, 'I wouldn't buy a +thing but nuts 'n' raisins.' + +'Nuts 'n' raisins!' Hope exclaimed, scornfully. + +'Nuts 'n' raisins,' he repeated. 'They're cheap 'n' satisfyin'. If ye eat +enough uv 'em you'll never want anything else in this world.' + +I failed to see the irony in Uncle Eb's remark and the suggestion +seemed to have a good deal of merit, the more I thought it over. + +''T any rate,' said Uncle Eb, 'I'd git somethin' fer my own selves.' + +'Well,' said Hope, 'You tell us a lot o' things we could buy.' + +'Less see!' said Uncle Eb, looking very serious. 'There's bootjacks +an' there's warmin' pans 'n' mustard plasters 'n' liver pads 'n' all +them kind o' things.' + +We both shook our heads very doubtfully. + +'Then,' he added, 'there are jimmyjacks 'n' silver no nuthin's.' + +There were many other suggestions but none of them were +decisive. + +The snow lay deep on either side of the way and there was a +glimmer on every white hillside where Jack Frost had sown his +diamonds. Here and there a fox track crossed the smooth level of +the valley and dwindled on the distant hills like a seam in a great +white robe. It grew warmer as the sun rose, and we were a jolly +company behind the merry jingle of the sleigh bells. We had had a +long spell of quiet weather and the road lay in two furrows worn as +smooth as ice at the bottom. + +'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb looking up at the sky, after we had been +on the road an hour or so. 'There's a sun dog. Wouldn't wonder if +we got a snowstorm' fore night. + +I was running behind the sledge and standing on the brake hooks +going downhill. He made me get in when he saw the sun dog, and +let our horse - a rat-tailed bay known as Old Doctor - go at a merry +pace. + +We were awed to silence when we came in sight of Hillsborough, +with spires looming far into the sky, as it seemed to me then, and +buildings that bullied me with their big bulk, so that I had no heart +for the spending of the two shillings Uncle Eb had given me. Such +sublimity of proportion I have never seen since; and yet it was all +very small indeed. The stores had a smell about them that was like +chloroform in its effect upon me; for, once in them, I fell into a +kind of trance and had scarce sense enough to know my own mind. +The smart clerks, who generally came and asked, 'Well, young +man, what can I do for you?' I regarded with fear and suspicion. I +clung the tighter to my coin always, and said nothing, although I +saw many a trinket whose glitter went to my soul with a mighty +fascination. We both stood staring silently at the show cases, our +tongues helpless with awe and wonder. Finally, after a whispered +conference, Hope asked for a 'silver no nothing', and provoked so +much laughter that we both fled to the sidewalk. Uncle Eb had to +do our buying for us in the end. + +'Wall, what'll ye hev?' he said to me at length. + +I tried to think-it was no easy thing to do after all I had seen. + +'Guess I'll take a jacknife,' I whispered. + +'Give this boy a knife,' he demanded. 'Wants t' be good 'n sharp. +Might hev t' skin a swift with it sometime.' + +'What ye want?' he asked, then turning to Hope. + +'A doll,' she whispered. + +'White or black?' said he. + +'White,' said she, 'with dark eyes and hair.' + +'Want a reel, splendid, firs'-class doll,' he said to the clerk. 'Thet +one'll do, there, with the sky-blue dress 'n the pink apron.' + +We were worn out with excitement when we left for home under +lowering skies. We children lay side by side under the robes, the +doll between us, and were soon asleep. It was growing dark when +Uncle Eb woke us, and the snow was driving in at the doorway. +The air was full of snow, I remember, and Old Doctor was wading +to his knees in a drift. We were up in the hills and the wind +whistled in our little chimney. Uncle Eb had a serious look in his +face. The snow grew deeper and Old Doctor went slower every +moment. + +'Six mild from home,' Uncle Eb muttered, as he held up to rest a +moment. 'Six mild from home. 'Fraid we're in fer a night uv it.' + +We got to the top of Fadden's Hill about dark, and the snow lay so +deep in the cut we all got out for fear the house would tip over. +Old Doctor floundered along a bit further until he went down in +the drift and lay between the shafts half buried. We had a shovel +that always hung beside a small hatchet in the sledgehouse - for +one might need much beside the grace of God of a winter's day in +that country - and with it Uncle Eb began to uncover the horse. We +children stood in the sledgehouse door watching him and holding +the lantern. Old Doctor was on his feet in a few minutes. + +''Tain' no use tryin',' said Uncle Eb, as he began to unhitch. 'Can't +go no further t'night.' + +Then he dug away the snow beside the sledgehouse, and hitched +Old Doctor to the horseshoe that was nailed to the rear end of it. +That done, he clambered up the side of the cut and took some rails +off the fence and shoved them over on the roof of the house, so +that one end rested there and the other on the high bank beside us. +Then he cut a lot of hemlock boughs with the hatchet, and +thatched the roof he had made over Old Doctor, binding them with +the reins. Bringing more rails, he leaned them to the others on the +windward side and nailed a big blanket over them, piecing it out +with hemlock thatching, so it made a fairly comfortable shelter. +We were under the wind in this deep cut on Fadden's Hill, and the +snow piled in upon us rapidly. We had a warm blanket for Old +Doctor and two big buffalo robes for our own use. We gave him a +good feed of hay and oats, and then Uncle Eb cut up a fence rail +with our hatchet and built a roaring fire in the stove. We had got a +bit chilly wading in the snow, and the fire gave us a mighty sense +of comfort. + +'I thought somethin' might happen,' said Uncle Eb, as he hung his +lantern to the ridge pole and took a big paper parcel out of his +great coat pocket. 'I thought mebbe somethin' might happen, an' so +I brought along a bite o' luncheon.' + +He gave us dried herring and bread and butter and cheese. + +''S a little dry,' he remarked, while we were eating, 'but it's drier +where there's none.' + +We had a pail of snow on top of the little stove and plenty of good +drinking water for ourselves and the Old Doctor in a few minutes. + +After supper Uncle Eb went up the side of the cut and brought +back a lot of hemlock boughs and spread them under Old Doctor +for bedding. + +Then we all sat around the stove on the warm robes and listened to +the wind howling above our little roof and the stories of Uncle Eb. +The hissing of the snow as it beat upon the sledgehouse grew +fainter by and by, and Uncle Eb said he guessed we were pretty +well covered up. We fell asleep soon. I remember he stopped in +the middle of a wolf story, and, seeing that our eyes were shut, +pulled us back from the fire a little and covered us with one of the +robes. It had been a mighty struggle between Sleep and Romance, +and Sleep had won. I roused myself and begged him to go on with +the story, but he only said, 'Hush, boy; it's bedtime,' and turned up +the lantern and went out of doors. I woke once or twice in the +night and saw him putting wood on the fire. He had put out the +light. The gleam of the fire shone on his face when he opened the +stove door. + +'Gittin' a leetle cool here, Uncle Eb,' he was saying to himself. + +We were up at daylight, and even then it was snowing and blowing +fiercely. There were two feet of snow on the sledgehouse roof, and +we were nearly buried in the bank. Uncle Eb had to do a lot of +shoveling to get out of doors and into the stable. Old Doctor was +quite out of the wind in a cave of snow and nickering for his +breakfast. There was plenty for him, but we were on short rations. +Uncle Eb put on the snow shoes, after we had eaten what there was +left, and, cautioning us to keep in, set out for Fadden's across lots. +He came back inside of an hour with a good supply of provisions +in a basket on his shoulder. The wind had gone down and the air +was milder. Big flakes of snow came fluttering slowly downward +out of a dark sky. After dinner we went up on top of the +sledgehouse and saw a big scraper coming in the valley below. Six +teams of oxen were drawing it, and we could see the flying +furrows on either side of the scraper as it ploughed in the deep +drifts. Uncle Eb put on the snow shoes again, and, with Hope on +his back and me clinging to his hand, he went down to meet them +and to tell of our plight. The front team had wallowed to their ears, +and the men were digging them out with shovels when we got to +the scraper. A score of men and boys clung to the sides of that big, +hollow wedge, and put their weight on it as the oxen pulled. We +got on with the others, I remember, and I was swept off as soon as +the scraper started by a roaring avalanche of snow that came down +upon our heads and buried me completely. I was up again and had +a fresh hold in a jiffy, and clung to my place until I was nearly +smothered by the flying snow. It was great fun for me, and they +were all shouting and hallooing as if it were a fine holiday. They +made slow progress, however, and we left them shortly on their +promise to try to reach us before night. If they failed to get +through, one of them said he would drive over to Paradise Valley, +if possible, and tell the Browers we were all right. + +On our return, Uncle Eb began shoveling a tunnel in the cut. +When we got through to the open late in the afternoon we saw the +scraper party going back with their teams. + +'Guess they've gi'n up fer t'day,' said he. 'Snow's powerful deep +down there below the bridge. Mebbe we can get 'round to where +the road's clear by goin' 'cross lots. I've a good mind t' try it.' + +Then he went over in the field and picked a winding way down the +hill toward the river, while we children stood watching him. He +came back soon and took down a bit of the fence and harnessed +Old Doctor and hitched him to the sledgehouse. The tunnel was +just wide enough to let us through with a tight pinch here and +there. The footing was rather soft' and the horse had hard pulling. +We went in the field, struggling on afoot - we little people - while +Uncle Eb led the horse. He had to stop frequently to tunnel through +a snowdrift, and at dusk we had only got half-way to the bridge +from our cave in the cat. Of a sudden Old Doctor went up to his +neck in a wall of deep snow that seemed to cut us off completely. +He struggled a moment, falling on his side and wrenching the +shafts from the runners. Uncle Eb went to work vigorously with +his shovel and had soon cut a narrow box stall in the deep snow +around Old Doctor. Just beyond the hill dipped sharply and down +the slope we could see the stubble sticking through the shallow +snow. 'We'll hev t' stop right where we are until mornin',' he said. +'It's mos' dark now. + +Our little house stood tilting forward about half-way down the hill, +its runners buried in the snow. A few hundred yards below was a +cliff where the shore fell to the river some thirty feet It had +stopped snowing, and the air had grown warmer, but the sky was +dark We put nearly all the hay in the sledgehouse under Old +Doctor and gave him the last of the oats and a warm cover of +blankets. Then Uncle Eb went away to the fence for more wood, +while we spread the supper. He was very tired, I remember, and we +all turned in for the night a short time after we had eaten. The little +stove was roaring like a furnace when we spread our blankets on +the sloping floor and lay down, our feet to the front, and drew the +warm robes over us. Uncle Eb, who had had no sleep the night +before, began to snore heavily before we children had stopped +whispering. He was still snoring, and Hope sound asleep, when I +woke in the night and heard the rain falling on our little roof and +felt the warm breath of the south wind. The water dripping from +the eaves and falling far and near upon the yielding snow had +many voices. I was half-asleep when I heard a new noise under the +sledge. Something struck the front corner of the sledgehouse - a +heavy, muffled blow - and brushed the noisy boards. Then I heard +the timbers creak and felt the runners leaping over the soft snow. I +remember it was like a dream of falling. I raised myself and stared +about me. We were slipping down the steep floor. The lantern, +burning dimly under the roof, swung and rattled. Uncle Eb was up +on his elbow staring wildly. I could feel the jar and rush of the +runners and the rain that seemed to roar as it dashed into my face. +Then, suddenly, the sledgehouse gave a great leap into the air and +the grating of the runners ceased. The lantern went hard against the +roof; there was a mighty roar in my ears; then we heard a noise +like thunder and felt the shock of a blow that set my back aching, +and cracked the roof above our heads. It was all still for a second; +then we children began to cry, and Uncle Eb staggered to his feet +and lit the lantern that had gone out and that had no globe, I +remember, as he held it down to our faces. + +'Hush! Are you hurt?' he said, as he knelt before us. 'Git up now, +see if ye can stand.' + +We got to our feet, neither of us much the worse for what had +happened- My knuckles were cut a bit by a splinter, and Hope had +been hit on the shins by the lantern globe as it fell. + +'By the Lord Harry!' said Uncle Eb, when he saw we were not hurt. +'Wonder what hit us.' + +We followed him outside while he was speaking. + +'We've slid downhill,' he said. 'Went over the cliff Went kerplunk +in the deep snow, er there'd have been nuthin' left uv us. Snow's +meltin' jest as if it was July.' + +Uncle Eb helped us into our heavy coats, and then with a blanket +over his arm led us into the wet snow. We came out upon clear ice +in a moment and picked our way along the lowering shore. At +length Uncle Eb clambered up, pulling us up after him, one by +one. Then he whistled to Old Doctor, who whinnied a quick reply. +He left us standing together, the blanket over our heads, and went +away in the dark whistling as he had done before. We could hear +Old Doctor answer as he came near, and presently Uncle Eb +returned leading the horse by the halter. Then he put us both on +Old Doctor's back, threw the blanket over our heads, and started +slowly for the road. We clung to each other as the horse staggered +in the soft snow, and kept our places with some aid from Uncle +Eb. We crossed the fence presently, and then for a way it was hard +going. We found fair footing after we had passed the big scraper, +and, coming to a house a mile or so down the road called them out +of bed. It was growing light and they made us comfortable around +a big stove, and gave us breakfast. The good man of the house took +us home in a big sleigh after the chores were done. We met David +Brower coming after us, and if we'd been gone a year we couldn't +have received a warmer welcome. + + + +Chapter 8 + +Of all that long season of snow, I remember most pleasantly the +days that were sweetened with the sugar-making. When the sun +was lifting his course in the clearing sky, and March had got the +temper of the lamb, and the frozen pulses of the forest had begun +to stir, the great kettle was mounted in the yard and all gave a hand +to the washing of spouts and buckets. Then came tapping time, in +which I helped carry the buckets and tasted the sweet flow that +followed the auger's wound. The woods were merry with our +shouts, and, shortly, one could hear the heart-beat of the maples in +the sounding bucket. It was the reveille of spring. Towering trees +shook down the gathered storms of snow and felt for the sunlight. +The arch and shanty were repaired, the great iron kettle was +scoured and lifted to its place, and then came the boiling. It was a +great, an inestimable privilege to sit on the robes of faded fur, in +the shanty, and hear the fire roaring under the kettle and smell the +sweet odour of the boiling sap. Uncle Eb minded the shanty and +the fire and the woods rang with his merry songs. When I think of +that phase of the sugaring, lam face to face with one of the greatest +perils of my life. My foster father had consented to let me spend a +night with Uncle Eb in the shanty, and I was to sleep on the robes, +where he would be beside me when he was not tending the fire. It +had been a mild, bright day, and David came up with our supper at +sunset. He sat talking with Uncle Eb for an hour or so, and the +woods were darkling when he went away. + +When he started on the dark trail that led to the clearing, I +wondered at his courage - it was so black beyond the firelight. +While we sat alone I plead for a story, but the thoughts of Uncle +Eb had gone to roost early in a sort of gloomy meditation. + +'Be still, my boy,' said he, 'an' go t' sleep. I ain't agoin' t' tell no +yarns an' git ye all stirred up. Ye go t' sleep. Come mornin' we'll go +down t' the brook an' see if we can't find a mink or tew 'n the traps.' + +I remember hearing a great crackling of twigs in the dark wood +before I slept. As I lifted my head, Uncle Eb whispered, 'Hark!' and +we both listened. A bent and aged figure came stalking into the +firelight His long white hair mingled with his beard and covered +his coat collar behind. + +'Don't be scairt,' said Uncle Eb. ''Tain' no bear. It's nuthin' but a +poet.' + +I knew him for a man who wandered much and had a rhyme for +everyone - a kindly man with a reputation for laziness and without +any home. + +'Bilin', eh?' said the poet + +'Bilin',' said Uncle Eb. + +'I'm bilin' over 'n the next bush,' said the poet, sitting down. + +'How's everything in Jingleville?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +Then the newcomer answered: + + 'Well, neighbour dear, in Jingleville + We live by faith but we eat our fill; + An' what w'u'd we do if it wa'n't fer prayer? + Fer we can't raise a thing but whiskers an' hair.' + +'Cur'us how you can talk po'try,' said Uncle Eb. 'The only thing I've +got agin you is them whiskers an' thet hair. 'Tain't Christian.' + +''Tain't what's on the head, but what's in it - thet's the important +thing,' said the poet. 'Did I ever tell ye what I wrote about the +birds?' + +'Don' know's ye ever did,' said Uncle Eb, stirring his fire. + +'The boy'll like it, mebbe,' said he, taking a dirty piece of paper out +of his pocket and holding it to the light. + +The poem interested me, young as I was, not less than the strange +figure of the old poet who lived unknown in the backwoods, and +who died, I dare say, with many a finer song in his heart. I +remember how he stood in the firelight and chanted the words in a +sing-song tone. He gave us that rude copy of the poem, and here it +is: + + + THE ROBIN'S WEDDING + + Young robin red breast hed a beautiful nest an' he says to his love says he: + It's ready now on a rocking bough + In the top of a maple tree. + I've lined it with down an' the velvet brown on the waist of a bumble-bee. + + They were married next day, in the land o' the hay, the lady bird an' he. + The bobolink came an' the wife o' the same + An' the lark an' the fiddle de dee. + An' the crow came down in a minister gown - there was nothing + that he didn't see. + + He fluttered his wing as they ast him to sing an' he tried fer t' clear + out his throat; + He hemmed an' he hawed an' be hawked an' he cawed + But he couldn't deliver a note. + The swallow was there an' he ushered each pair with his linsey an' + claw hammer coat. + + The bobolink tried fer t' flirt with the bride in a way thet was sassy + an' bold. + An' the notes that he took as he shivered an' shook + Hed a sound like the jingle of gold. + He sat on a briar an' laughed at the choir an' said thet the music was old. + + The sexton he came - Mr Spider by name - a citizen hairy and grey. + His rope in a steeple, he called the good people + That live in the land o' the hay. + The ants an' the squgs an' the crickets an' bugs - came out in a + mighty array. + + Some came down from Barleytown an' the neighbouring city o' Rye. + An' the little black people they climbed every steeple + An' sat looking up at the sky. + They came fer t' see what a wedding might be an' they + furnished the cake an' the pie. + +I remember he turned to me when he had finished and took one of +my small hands and held it in his hard palm and looked at it and +then into my face. + +'Ah, boy!' he said, 'your way shall lead you far from here, and you +shall get learning and wealth and win - victories.' + +'What nonsense are you talking, Jed Ferry?' said Uncle Eb. + +'O, you all think I'm a fool an' a humbug, 'cos I look it. Why, Eben +Holden, if you was what ye looked, ye'd be in the presidential +chair. Folks here 'n the valley think o' nuthin' but hard work - most +uv 'em, an' I tell ye now this boy ain't a goin' t' be wuth putty on a +farm. Look a' them slender hands. + +'There was a man come to me the other day an' wanted t' hev a +poem 'bout his wife that hed jes' died. I ast him t' tell me all 'bout +her. + +'"Wall," said he, after he had scratched his head an' thought a +minute, "she was a dretful good woman t' work." + +'"Anything else?" I asked. + +'He thought agin fer a minute. + +'"Broke her leg once," he said, "an' was laid up fer more'n a year." + +"Must o' suffered," said I. + +'"Not then," he answered. "Ruther enjoyed it layin' abed an' readin' +an' bein' rubbed, but 'twas hard on the children." + +'"S'pose ye loved her," I said. + +'Then the tears come into his eyes an' he couldn't speak fer a +minute. Putty soon he whispered "Yes" kind o' confidential. +'Course he loved her, but these Yankees are ashamed o' their +feelin's. They hev tender thoughts, but they hide 'em as careful as +the wild goose hides her eggs. I wrote a poem t' please him, an' +goin' home I made up one fer myself, an 'it run 'bout like this: + + O give me more than a life, I beg, + That finds real joy in a broken leg. + Whose only thought is t' work an' save + An' whose only rest is in the grave. + Saving an' scrimping from day to day + While its best it has squandered an' flung away + Fer a life like that of which I tell + Would rob me quite o' the dread o' hell. + +'Toil an' slave an' scrimp an' save - thet's 'bout all we think uv 'n +this country. 'Tain't right, Holden.' + +'No, 'tain't right,' said Uncle Eb. + +'I know I'm a poor, mis'rable critter. Kind o' out o' tune with +everybody I know. Alwus quarrelled with my own folks, an' now I +ain't got any home. Someday I'm goin' t' die in the poorhouse er on +the ground under these woods. But I tell ye'- here he spoke in a +voice that grew loud with feeling - 'mebbe I've been lazy, as they +say, but I've got more out o' my life than any o' these fools. And +someday God'll honour me far above them. When my wife an' I +parted I wrote some lines that say well my meaning. It was only a +log house we had, but this will show what I got out of it.' Then he +spoke the lines, his voice trembling with emotion. + + 'O humble home! Thou hadst a secret door + Thro' which I looked, betimes, with wondering eye + On treasures that no palace ever wore + But now - goodbye! + + In hallowed scenes what feet have trod thy stage! + The babe, the maiden, leaving home to wed + The young man going forth by duty led + And faltering age. + + Thou hadst a magic window broad and high + The light and glory of the morning shone + Thro' it, however dark the day had grown, + Or bleak the sky. + +'I know Dave Brower's folks hev got brains an' decency, but when +thet boy is old enough t' take care uv himself, let him git out o' this +country. I tell ye he'll never make a farmer, an' if he marries an' +settles down here he'll git t' be a poet, mebbe, er some such +shif'less cuss, an' die in the poorhouse. Guess I better git back t' +my bilin' now. Good-night,' he added, rising and buttoning his old +coat as he walked away. + +'Sing'lar man!' Uncle Eli exclaimed, thoughtfully, 'but anyone thet +picks him up fer a fool'll find him a counterfeit.' + +Young as I was, the rugged, elemental power of the old poet had +somehow got to my heart and stirred my imagination. It all came +not fully to my understanding until later. Little by little it grew +upon me, and what an effect it had upon my thought and life ever +after I should not dare to estimate. And soon I sought out the 'poet +of the hills,' as they called him, and got to know and even to +respect him in spite of his unlovely aspect. + +Uncle Eb skimmed the boiling sap, put more wood on the fire and +came and pulled off his boots and lay down beside me under the +robe. And, hearing the boil of the sap and the crackle of the +burning logs in the arch, I soon went asleep. + +I remember feeling Uncle Eb's hand upon my cheek, and how I +rose and stared about me in the fading shadows of a dream as he +shook me gently. + +'Wake up, my boy,' said he. 'Come, we mus' put fer home.' + +The fire was out. The old man held a lantern as he stood before +me, the blaze flickering. There was a fearsome darkness all +around. + +'Come, Willy, make haste,' he whispered, as I rubbed my eyes. 'Put +on yer boots, an' here's yer little coat 'n' muffler.' + +There was a mighty roar in the forest and icy puffs of snow came +whistling in upon us. We stored the robes and pails and buckets +and covered the big kettle. + +The lofty tree-tops reeled and creaked above us, and a deep, +sonorous moan was sweeping through the woods, as if the fingers +of the wind had touched a mighty harp string in the timber. We +could hear the crash and thunder of falling trees. + +'Make haste! Make haste! It's resky here,' said Uncle Eb, and he +held my hand and ran. We started through the brush and steered as +straight as we could for the clearing. The little box of light he +carried was soon sheathed in snow, and I remember how he +stopped, half out of breath, often, and brushed it with his mittens +to let out the light. We had made the scattering growth of little +timber at the edge of the woods when the globe of the lantern +snapped and fell. A moment later we stood in utter darkness. I +knew, for the first time, then that we were in a bad fix. + +'I guess God'll take care of us, Willy,' said Uncle Eb. 'If he don't, +we'll never get there in this world never!' + +It was a black and icy wall of night and storm on every side of us. I +never saw a time when the light of God's heaven was so utterly +extinguished; the cold never went to my bone as on that bitter +night. My hands and feet were numb with aching, as the roar of the +trees grew fainter in the open. I remember how I lagged, and how +the old man urged me on, and how we toiled in the wind and +darkness, straining our eyes for some familiar thing. Of a sudden +we stumbled upon a wall that we had passed an hour or so before. + +'Oh!' he groaned, and made that funny, deprecating cluck with his +tongue, that I have heard so much from Yankee lips. + +'God o' mercy!' said he, 'we've gone 'round in a half-circle. Now +we'll take the wall an' mebbe it'll bring us home.' + +I thought I couldn't keep my feet any longer, for an irresistible +drowsiness had come over me. The voice of Uncle Eb seemed far +away, and when I sank in the snow and shut my eyes to sleep he +shook me as a terrier shakes a rat. + +'Wake up, my boy,' said he, 'ye musn't sleep.' + +Then he boxed my ears until I cried, and picked me up and ran +with me along the side of the wall. I was but dimly conscious when +he dropped me under a tree whose bare twigs lashed the air and +stung my cheeks. I heard him tearing the branches savagely and +muttering, 'Thanks to God, it's the blue beech.' I shall never forget +how he turned and held to my hand and put the whip on me as I lay +in the snow, and how the sting of it started my blood. Up I sprang +in a jiffy and howled and danced. The stout rod bent and circled on +me like a hoop of fire. Then I turned and tried to run while he +clung to my coat tails, and every step I felt the stinging grab of the +beech. There is a little seam across my cheek today that marks a +footfall of one of those whips. In a moment I was as wide awake as +Uncle Eb and needed no more stimulation. + +The wall led us to the pasture lane, and there it was easy enough to +make our way to the barnyard and up to the door of the house, +which had a candle in every window, I remember. David was up +and dressed to come after us, and I recall how he took Uncle Eb in +his arms, when he fell fainting on the doorstep, and carried him to +the lounge. I saw the blood on my face as I passed the mirror, and +Elizabeth Brower came running and gave me one glance and +rushed out of doors with the dipper. It was full of snow when she +ran in and tore the wrappings off my neck and began to rub my +ears and cheeks with the cold snow, calling loudly for Grandma +Bisnette. She came in a moment and helped at the stripping of our +feet and legs. I remember that she slit my trousers with the shears +as I lay on the floor, while the others rubbed my feet with the +snow. Our hands and ears were badly frosted, but in an hour the +whiteness had gone out of them and the returning blood burnt like +a fire. + +'How queer he stares!' I heard them say when Uncle Eb first came +to, and in a moment a roar of laughter broke from him. + +'I'll never fergit,' said he presently, 'if I live a thousan' years, the +lickin' I gin thet boy; but it hurt me worse'n it hurt him.' + +Then he told the story of the blue beech. + +The next day was that 'cold Friday' long remembered by those who +felt its deadly chill - a day when water thrown in the magic air +came down in clinking crystals, and sheaths of frost lay thick upon +the windows. But that and the one before it were among the few +days in that early period that lie, like a rock, under my character. + + + +Chapter 9 + +Grandma Bisnette came from Canada to work for the Browers. She +was a big, cheerful woman, with a dialect, an amiable disposition +and a swarthy, wrinkled face. She had a loose front tooth that +occupied all the leisure of her tongue. When she sat at her knitting +this big tooth clicked incessantly. On every stitch her tongue went +in and out across it' and I, standing often by her knees, regarded the +process with great curiosity. + +The reader may gather much from these frank and informing +words of Grandma Bisnette. 'When I los' my man, Mon Dieu! I +have two son. An' when I come across I bring him with me. Abe he +rough; but den he no bad man.' + +Abe was the butcher of the neighbourhood - that red-handed, +stony-hearted, necessary man whom the Yankee farmer in that +north country hires to do the cruel things that have to be done. He +wore ragged, dirty clothes and had a voice like a steam whistle. +His rough, black hair fell low and mingled with his scanty beard. +His hands were stained too often with the blood of some creature +we loved. I always crept under the bed in Mrs Brower's room +when Abe came - he was such a terror to me with his bloody work +and noisy oaths. Such men were the curse of the cleanly homes in +that country. There was much to shock the ears and eyes of +children in the life of the farm. It was a fashion among the help to +decorate their speech with profanity for the mere sound of it' and +the foul mouthings of low-minded men spread like a pestilence in +the fields. + +Abe came always with an old bay horse and a rickety buckboard. +His one foot on the dash, as he rode, gave the picture a dare-devil +finish. The lash of his bull-whip sang around him, and his great +voice sent its blasts of noise ahead. When we heard a fearful yell +and rumble in the distance, we knew Abe was coming. + +'Abe he come,' said Grandma Bisnette. 'Mon Dieu! he make de +leetle rock fly.' + +It was like the coming of a locomotive with roar of wheel and +whistle. In my childhood, as soon as I saw the cloud of dust, I put +for the bed and from its friendly cover would peek out' often, but +never venture far until the man of blood had gone. + +To us children he was a marvel of wickedness. There were those +who told how he had stood in the storm one night and dared the +Almighty to send the lightning upon him. + +The dog Fred had grown so old and infirm that one day they sent +for Abe to come and put an end to his misery. Every man on the +farm loved the old dog and not one of them would raise a hand to +kill him. Hope and I heard what Abe was coming to do, and when +the men had gone to the fields, that summer morning, we lifted +Fred into the little wagon in which he had once drawn me and +starting back of the barn stole away with him through the deep +grass of the meadow until we came out upon the highroad far +below. We had planned to take him to school and make him a nest +in the woodshed where he could share our luncheon and be out of +the way of peril. After a good deal of difficulty and heavy pulling +we got to the road at last. The old dog, now blind and helpless, sat +contentedly in the wagon while its wheels creaked and groaned +beneath him. We had gone but a short way in the road when we +heard the red bridge roar under rushing wheels and the familiar +yell of Abe. + +'We'd better run,' said Hope, ' 'er we'll git swore at.' + +I looked about me in a panic for some place to hide the party, but +Abe was coming fast and there was only time to pick up clubs and +stand our ground. + +'Here!' the man shouted as he pulled up along side of us, 'where ye +goin' with that dog?' + +'Go 'way,' I answered, between anger and tears, lifting my club in a +threatening manner. + +He laughed then - a loud guffaw that rang in the near woods. + +'What'll ye give me,' he asked leaning forward, his elbows on his +knees, 'What'll ye give me if I don't kill him?' + +I thought a moment. Then I put my hand in my pocket and +presently took out my jack-knife - that treasure Uncle Eb had +bought for me - and looked at it fondly. + +Then I offered it to him. + +Again he laughed loudly. + +'Anything else?' he demanded while Hope sat hugging the old dog +that was licking her hands. + +'Got forty cents that I saved for the fair,' said I promptly. + +Abe backed his horse and turned in the road. + +'Wall boy,' he said, 'Tell 'em I've gone home.' + +Then his great voice shouted, 'g'lang' the lash of his whip sang in +the air and off he went. + +We were first to arrive at the schoolhouse, that morning, and when +the other children came we had Fred on a comfortable bed of +grass in a corner of the woodshed. What with all the worry of that +day I said my lessons poorly and went home with a load on my +heart. Tomorrow would be Saturday; how were we to get food and +water to the dog? They asked at home if we had seen old Fred and +we both declared we had not - the first lie that ever laid its burden +on my conscience. We both saved all our bread and butter and +doughnuts next day, but we had so many chores to do it was +impossible to go to the schoolhouse with them. So we agreed to +steal away that night when all were asleep and take the food from +its hiding place. + +In the excitement of the day neither of us had eaten much. They +thought we were ill and sent us to bed early. When Hope came into +my room above stairs late in the evening we were both desperately +hungry. We looked at our store of doughnuts and bread and butter +under my bed. We counted it over. + +'Won't you try one o' the doughnuts,' I whispered hoping that she +would say yes so that I could try one also; for they did smell +mighty good. + +''Twouldn't be right," said she regretfully. 'There ain't any more 'n +he'll want now. + +''Twouldn't be right," I repeated with a sigh as I looked longingly at +one of the big doughnuts. 'Couldn't bear t' do it - could you?' + +'Don't seem as if I could,' she whispered, thoughtfully, her chin +upon her hand. + +Then she rose and went to the window. + +'O my! how dark it is!' she whispered, looking out into the night. + +'Purty dark!' I said, 'but you needn't be 'fraid. I'll take care o' you. If +we should meet a bear I'll growl right back at him - that's what +Uncle Eb tol' me t' do. I'm awful stout - most a man now! Can't +nuthin' scare me.' + +We could hear them talking below stairs and we went back to bed, +intending to go forth later when the house was still. But' +unfortunately for our adventure I fell asleep. + +It was morning when I opened my eyes again. We children looked +accusingly at each other while eating breakfast. Then we had to +be washed and dressed in our best clothes to go to meeting. When +the wagon was at the door and we were ready to start I had +doughnuts and bread and butter in every pocket of my coat and +trousers. I got in quickly and pulled the blanket over me so as to +conceal the fullness of my pockets. We arrived so late I had no +chance to go to the dog before we went into meeting. I was +wearing boots that were too small for me, and when I entered with +the others and sat down upon one of those straight backed seats of +plain, unpainted pine my feet felt as if I had been caught in a bear +trap. There was always such a silence in the room after the elder +had sat down and adjusted his spectacles that I could hear the +ticking of the watch he carried in the pocket of his broadcloth +waistcoat. For my own part I know I looked with too much longing +for the good of my soul on the great gold chain that spanned the +broad convexity of his stomach. Presently I observed that a couple +of young women were looking at me and whispering. Then +suddenly I became aware that there were sundry protuberances on +my person caused by bread and butter and doughnuts, and I felt +very miserable indeed. Now and then as the elder spoke the loud, +accusing neigh of some horse, tethered to the fence in the +schoolyard, mingled with his thunder. After the good elder had +been preaching an hour his big, fat body seemed to swim in my +tears. When he had finished the choir sang. Their singing was a +thing that appealed to the eye as well as the ear. Uncle Eb used to +say it was a great comfort to see Elkenah Samson sing bass. His +great mouth opened widely in this form of praise and his eyes had +a wild stare in them when he aimed at the low notes. + +Ransom Walker, a man of great dignity, with a bristling +moustache, who had once been a schoolmaster, led the choir and +carried the tenor part. It was no small privilege after the elder had +announced the hymn, to see him rise and tap the desk with his +tuning fork and hold it to his ear solemnly. Then he would seem to +press his chin full hard upon his throat while he warbled a scale. +Immediately, soprano, alto, bass and tenor launched forth upon the +sea of song. The parts were like the treacherous and conflicting +currents of a tide that tossed them roughly and sometimes +overturned their craft. And Ransom Walker showed always a +proper sense of danger and responsibility. Generally they got to +port safely on these brief excursions, though exhausted. He had a +way of beating time with his head while singing and I have no +doubt it was a great help to him. + +The elder came over to me after meeting, having taken my tears +for a sign of conviction. + +'May the Lord bless and comfort you, my boy!' said he. + +I got away shortly and made for the door. Uncle Eb stopped me. + +'My stars, Willie!' said he putting his hand on my upper coat +pocket' 'what ye got in there?' + +'Doughnuts,' I answered. + +'An' what's this?' he asked touching one of my side pockets. + +'Doughnuts,' I repeated. + +'An' this,' touching another. + +'That's doughnuts too,' I said. + +'An' this,' he continued going down to my trousers pocket. + +'Bread an' butter,' I answered, shamefacedly, and on the verge of +tears. + +'Jerusalem!' he exclaimed, 'must a 'spected a purty long sermon. + +'Brought 'em fer ol' Fred,' I replied. + +'Ol' Fred!' he whispered, 'where's he?' + +I told my secret then and we both went out with Hope to where we +had left him. He lay with his head between his paws on the bed of +grass just as I had seen him lie many a time when his legs were +weary with travel on Paradise Road, and when his days were yet +full of pleasure. We called to him and Uncle Eb knelt and touched +his head. Then he lifted the dog's nose, looked a moment into the +sightless eyes and let it fall again. + +'Fred's gone,' said he in a low tone as he turned away. 'Got there +ahead uv us, Willy.' + +Hope and I sat down by the old dog and wept bitterly. + + + +Chapter 10 + +Uncle Eb was a born lover of fun. But he had a solemn way of +fishing that was no credit to a cheerful man. It was the same when +he played the bass viol, but that was also a kind of fishing at which +he tried his luck in a roaring torrent of sound. Both forms of +dissipation gave him a serious look and manner, that came near +severity. They brought on his face only the light of hope and +anticipation or the shadow of disappointment. + +We had finished our stent early the day of which lam writing. +When we had dug our worms and were on our way to the brook +with pole and line a squint of elation had hold of Uncle Eb's face. +Long wrinkles deepened as he looked into the sky for a sign of the +weather, and then relaxed a bit as he turned his eyes upon the +smooth sward. It was no time for idle talk. We tiptoed over the +leafy carpet of the woods. Soon as I spoke he lifted his hand with a +warning 'Sh - h!' The murmur of the stream was in our ears. +Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Eb +beckoned to me. + +I came to him on tiptoe. + +'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log?' he whispered, +pointing with his finger. + +I nodded. + +'Cre-e-ep up jest as ca-a-areful as ye can,' he went on whispering. +'Drop in a leetle above an' let 'er float down.' + +Then he went on, below me, lifting his feet in slow and stealthy +strides. + +He halted by a bit of driftwood and cautiously threw in, his arm +extended, his figure alert. The squint on his face took a firmer grip. +Suddenly his pole gave a leap, the water splashed, his line sang in +the air and a fish went up like a rocket. As we were looking into +the treetops it thumped the shore beside him, quivered a moment +and flopped down the bank He scrambled after it and went to his +knees in the brook coming up empty-handed. The water was +slopping out of his boot legs. + +'Whew!' said he, panting with excitement, as I came over to him. +'Reg'lar ol' he one,' he added, looking down at his boots. 'Got away +from me - consarn him! Hed a leetle too much power in the arm., + +He emptied his boots, baited up and went back to his fishing. As I +looked up at him he stood leaning over the stream jiggling his +hook. In a moment I saw a tug at the line. The end of his pole +went under water like a flash. It bent double as Uncle Eb gave it a +lift. The fish began to dive and rush. The line cut the water in a +broad semicircle and then went far and near with long, quick +slashes. The pole nodded and writhed like a thing of life. Then +Uncle Eb had a look on him that is one of the treasures of my +memory. In a moment the fish went away with such a violent rush, +to save him, he had to throw his pole into the water. + +'Heavens an' airth!' he shouted, 'the ol' settler!' + +The pole turned quickly and went lengthwise into the rapids. He +ran down the bank and I after him. The pole was speeding through +the swift water. We scrambled over logs and through bushes, but +the pole went faster than we. Presently it stopped and swung +around. Uncle Eb went splashing into the brook. Almost within +reach of the pole he dashed his foot upon a stone, falling headlong +in the current. I was close upon his heels and gave him a hand. He +rose hatless, dripping from head to foot and pressed on. He lifted +his pole. The line clung to a snag and then gave way; the tackle +was missing. He looked at it silently, tilting his head. We walked +slowly to the shore. Neither spoke for a moment. + +'Must have been a big fish,' I remarked. + +'Powerful!' said he, chewing vigorously on his quid of tobacco as +he shook his head and looked down at his wet clothing. 'In a +desp'rit fix, ain't I?' + +'Too bad!' I exclaimed. + +'Seldom ever hed sech a disapp'intment,' he said. 'Ruther counted +on ketchin' thet fish - he was s' well hooked.' + +He looked longingly at the water a moment 'If I don't go hum,' said +he, 'an' keep my mouth shet I'll say sumthin' I'll be sorry fer.' + +He was never quite the same after that. He told often of his +struggle with this unseen, mysterious fish and I imagined he was a +bit more given to reflection. He had had hold of the 'ol' settler of +Deep Hole' - a fish of great influence and renown there in Faraway. +Most of the local fishermen had felt him tug at the line one time or +another. No man had ever seen him for the water was black in +Deep Hole. No fish had ever exerted a greater influence on the +thought' the imagination, the manners or the moral character of his +contemporaries. Tip Taylor always took off his hat and sighed +when he spoke of the 'ol' settler'. Ransom Walker said he had once +seen his top fin and thought it longer than a razor. Ransom took to +idleness and chewing tobacco immediately after his encounter +with the big fish, and both vices stuck to him as long as he lived. +Everyone had his theory of the 'ol' settler'. Most agreed he was a +very heavy trout. Tip Taylor used to say that in his opinion ''twas +nuthin' more'n a plain, overgrown, common sucker,' but Tip came +from the Sucker Brook country where suckers lived in colder water +and were more entitled to respect. + +Mose Tupper had never had his hook in the 'ol' settler' and would +believe none of the many stories of adventure at Deep Hole that +had thrilled the township. + +'Thet fish hes made s' many liars 'round here ye dimno who t' +b'lieve,' he had said at the corners one day, after Uncle Eb had told +his story of the big fish. 'Somebody 't knows how t' fish hed +oughter go 'n ketch him fer the good o' the town - thet's what I +think.' + +Now Mr Tupper was an excellent man but his incredulity was +always too bluntly put. It had even led to some ill feeling. + +He came in at our place one evening with a big hook and line from +'down east' - the kind of tackle used in salt water. + +'What ye goin' t' dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Ketch thet fish ye talk 5' much about - goin' t' put him out o' the +way.' + +''Tain't fair,' said Uncle Eb, 'its reedic'lous. Like leading a pup with +a log chain.' + +'Don't care,' said Mose, 'I'm goin' t' go fishin t'morrer. If there reely +is any sech fish - which I don't believe there is - I'm goin' t' rassle +with him an' mebbe tek him out o' the river. Thet fish is sp'llin' the +moral character o' this town. He oughter be rode on a rail - thet fish +hed.' + +How he would punish a trout in that manner Mr Tupper failed to +explain, but his metaphor was always a worse fit than his trousers +and that was bad enough. + +It was just before haying and, there being little to do, we had also +planned to try our luck in the morning. When, at sunrise, we were +walking down the cow-path to the woods I saw Uncle Eb had a +coil of bed cord on his shoulder. + +'What's that for?' I asked. + +'Wall,' said he, 'goin' t' hev fun anyway. If we can't ketch one thing +we'll try another.' + +We had great luck that morning and when our basket was near full +we came to Deep Hole and made ready for a swim in the water +above it. Uncle Eb had looped an end of the bed cord and tied a +few pebbles on it with bits of string. + +'Now,' said he presently, 'I want t' sink this loop t' the bottom an' +pass the end o' the cord under the driftwood so 't we can fetch it +'crost under water.' + +There was a big stump, just opposite, with roots running down the +bank into the stream. I shoved the line under the drift with a pole +and then hauled it across where Uncle Eb drew it up the bank +under the stump roots. + +'In 'bout half an hour I cal'late Mose Tupper'll be 'long,' he +whispered. 'Wisht ye'd put on yer clo's an' lay here back o' the +stump an' hold on t' the cord. When ye feel a bite give a yank er +two an' haul in like Sam Hill - fifteen feet er more quicker'n scat. +Snatch his pole right away from him. Then lay still.' + +Uncle Eb left me, shortly, going up stream. It was near an hour +before I heard them coming. Uncle Eb was talking in a low tone as +they came down the other bank. + +'Drop right in there,' he was saying, 'an' let her drag down, through +the deep water, deliberate like. Git clus t' the bottom.' + +Peering through a screen of bushes I could see an eager look on the +unlovely face of Moses. He stood leaning toward the water and +jiggling his hook along the bottom. Suddenly I saw Mose jerk and +felt the cord move. I gave it a double twitch and began to pull. He +held hard for a jiffy and then stumbled and let go yelling like mad. +The pole hit the water with a splash and went out of sight like a +diving frog. I brought it well under the foam and driftwood. Deep +Hole resumed its calm, unruffled aspect. Mose went running +toward Uncle Eb. + +''S a whale!' he shouted. 'Ripped the pole away quicker'n lightnin'.' + +'Where is it?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Tuk it away f'm me,' said Moses. 'Grabbed it jes' like thet,' he +added with a violent jerk of his hand. + +'What d' he dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +Mose looked thoughtfully at the water and scratched his head, his +features all a tremble. + +'Dunno,' said he. 'Swallered it mebbe.' + +'Mean t' say ye lost hook, line, sinker 'n pole?' + +'Hook, line, sinker 'n pole,' he answered mournfully. 'Come nigh +haulin' me in tew.' + +''Tain't possible,' said Uncle Eb. + +Mose expectorated, his hands upon his hips, looking down at the +water. + +'Wouldn't eggzac'ly say 'twas possible,' he drawled, 'but 'twas a +fact.' + +'Yer mistaken,' said Uncle Eb. + +'No I hain't,' was the answer, 'I tell ye I see it.' + +'Then if ye see it the nex' thing ye orter see 's a doctor. There's +sumthin' wrong with you sumwheres.' + +'Only one thing the matter o' me,' said Mose with a little twinge of +remorse. 'I'm jest a natural born perfec' dum fool. Never c'u'd +b'lieve there was any sech fish.' + +'Nobody ever said there was any sech fish,' said Uncle Eb. 'He's +done more t' you 'n he ever done t' me. Never served me no sech +trick as thet. If I was you I'd never ask nobody t' b'lieve it 'S a leetle +tew much.' + +Mose went slowly and picked up his hat. Then he returned to the +bank and looked regretfully at the water. + +'Never see the beat o' thet,' he went on. 'Never see sech power 'n a +fish. Knocks the spots off any fish I ever hearn of.' + +'Ye riled him with that big tackle o' yourn,' said Uncle Eb. 'He +wouldn't stan' it.' + +'Feel jest as if I'd hed holt uv a wil' cat,' said Mose. 'Tuk the hull +thing - pole an' all - quicker 'n lightnin'. Nice a bit o' hickory as a +man ever see. Gol' durned if I ever heem o' the like o' that, ever.' + +He sat down a moment on the bank. + +'Got t' rest a minute,' he remarked. 'Feel kind o' wopsy after thet +squabble.' + +They soon went away. And when Mose told the story of 'the +swallered pole' he got the same sort of reputation he had given to +others. Only it was real and large and lasting. + +'Wha' d' ye think uv it?' he asked, when he had finished. + +'Wall,' said Ransom Walker, 'wouldn't want t' say right out plain t' +yer face.' + +''Twouldn't he p'lite,' said Uncle Eb soberly. + +'Sound a leetle ha'sh,' Tip Taylor added. + +'Thet fish has jerked the fear o' God out o' ye - thet's the way it +looks t' me,' said Carlyle Barber. + +'Yer up 'n the air, Mose,' said another. 'Need a sinker on ye.' They +bullied him - they talked him down, demurring mildly, but firmly. + +'Tell ye what I'll do,' said Mose sheepishly, 'I'll b'lieve you fellers if +you'll b'lieve me.' + +'What, swop even? Not much!' said one, with emphasis. ' 'Twouldn't +be fair. Ye've ast us t' b'lieve a genuwine out 'n out impossibility.' + +Mose lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. There was +a look of embarrassment in his face. + +'Might a ben dreamin',' said he slowly. 'I swear it's gittin' so here 'n +this town a feller can't hardly b'lieve himself.' + +'Fur '5 my experience goes,' said Ransom Walker, 'he'd be a fool 'f +he did.' + +''Minds me o' the time I went fishin' with Ab Thomas,' said Uncle +Eb. 'He ketched an ol' socker the fast thing. I went off by myself 'n +got a good sized fish, but 'twant s' big 's hisn. So I tuk 'n opened his +mouth n poured in a lot o' fine shot. When I come back Ab he +looked at my fish 'n begun t' brag. When we weighed 'em mine was +a leetle heavier. + +'"What!" says he. "'Tain't possible thet leetle cuss uv a trout 's +heavier 'n mine." + +''Tis sarrin,' I said. + +''Dummed deceivin' business," said he as he hefted 'em both. +"Gittin' so ye can't hardly b'lieve the stillyards."' + + + +Chapter 11 + +The fifth summer was passing since we came down Paradise Road +- the dog, Uncle Eb and I. Times innumerable I had heard my good +old friend tell the story of our coming west until its every incident +was familiar to me as the alphabet. Else I fear my youthful +memory would have served me poorly for a chronicle of my +childhood so exact and so extended as this I have written. Uncle +Eb's hair was white now and the voices of the swift and the panther +had grown mild and tremulous and unsatisfactory and even absurd. +Time had tamed the monsters of that imaginary wilderness and I +had begun to lose my respect for them. But one fear had remained +with me as I grew older - the fear of the night man. Every boy and +girl in the valley trembled at the mention of him. Many a time I +had held awake in the late evening to hear the men talk of him +before they went asleep - Uncle Eb and Tip Taylor. I remember a +night when Tip said, in a low awesome tone, that he was a ghost. +The word carried into my soul the first thought of its great and +fearful mystery. + +'Years and years ago,' said he, 'there was a boy by the name of +Nehemiah Brower. An' he killed another boy, once, by accident an' +run away an' was drownded.' + +'Drownded!' said Uncle Eb. 'How?' + +'In the ocean,' the first answered gaping. 'Went away off 'round the +world an' they got a letter that said he was drownded on his way to +Van Dieman's Land.' + +'To Van Dieman's Land!' + +'Yes, an some say the night man is the ghost o' the one he killed.' + +I remember waking that night and hearing excited whispers at the +window near my bed. It was very dark in the room and at first I +could not tell who was there. + +'Don't you see him?' Tip whispered. + +'Where?' I heard Uncle Be ask + +'Under the pine trees - see him move.' + +At that I was up at the window myself and could plainly see the +dark figure of a man standing under the little pine below us. + +'The night man, I guess,' said Uncle Be, 'but he won't do no harm. +Let him alone; he's going' away now.' + +We saw him disappear behind the trees and then we got back into +our beds again. I covered my head with the bedclothes and said a +small prayer for the poor night man. + +And in this atmosphere of mystery and adventure, among the plain +folk of Faraway, whose care of me when I was in great need, and +whose love of me always, I count among the priceless treasures of +God's providence, my childhood passed. And the day came near +when I was to begin to play my poor part in the world. + + + + +BOOK TWO + + + +Chapter 12 + +It was a time of new things - that winter when I saw the end of my +fifteenth year. Then I began to enjoy the finer humours of life in +Faraway - to see with understanding; and by God's grace - to feel. + +The land of play and fear and fable was now far behind me and I +had begun to feel the infinite in the ancient forest' in the +everlasting hills, in the deep of heaven, in all the ways of men. +Hope Brower was now near woman grown. She had a beauty of +face and form that was the talk of the countryside. I have travelled +far and seen many a fair face hut never one more to my eye. I have +heard men say she was like a girl out of a story-book those days. + +Late years something had come between us. Long ago we had +fallen out of each other's confidence, and ever since she had +seemed to shun me. It was the trip in the sledgehouse that' years +after, came up between us and broke our childish intimacy. Uncle +Be had told, before company, how she had kissed me that day and +bespoke me for a husband, and while the others laughed loudly she +had gone out of the room crying. She would have little to say to me +then. I began to play with boys and she with girls. And it made me +miserable to hear the boys a bit older than I gossip of her beauty +and accuse each other of the sweet disgrace of love. + +But I must hasten to those events in Faraway that shaped our +destinies. And first comes that memorable night when I had the +privilege of escorting Hope to the school lyceum where the +argument of Jed Feary - poet of the hills - fired my soul with an +ambition that has remained with me always. + +Uncle Be suggested that I ask Hope to go with me. + +'Prance right up to her,' he said, 'an' say you'd be glad of the +pleasure of her company. + +It seemed to me a very dubious thing to do. I looked thoughtful +and turned red in the face. + +'Young man,' he continued, 'the boy thet's 'fraid o' women'll never +hev whiskers.' + +'How's that?' I enquired. + +'Be scairt t' death,' he answered,' 'fore they've hed time t' start Ye +want t' step right up t' the rack jes' if ye'd bought an' paid +fer yerself an' was proud o' yer bargain.' + +I took his advice and when I found Hope alone in the parlour I +came and asked her, very awkwardly as I now remember, to go +with me. + +She looked at me, blushing, and said she would ask her mother. + +And she did, and we walked to the schoolhouse together that +evening, her hand holding my arm, timidly, the most serious pair +that ever struggled with the problem of deportment on such an +occasion. I was oppressed with a heavy sense of responsibility in +every word I uttered. + +Ann Jane Foster, known as 'Scooter Jane', for her rapid walk and +stiff carriage, met us at the corners on her way to the schoolhouse. + +'Big turn out I guess,' said she. 'Jed Feary 'n' Squire Town is comin' +over from Jingleville an' all the big guns'll be there. I love t' hear +Jed Feary speak, he's so techin'.' + +Ann Jane was always looking around for some event likely to +touch her feelings. She went to every funeral in Faraway and, when +sorrow was scarce in her own vicinity, journeyed far in quest of it + +'Wouldn't wonder 'f the fur flew when they git t' going',' she +remarked, and then hurried on, her head erect, her body +motionless, her legs flying. Such energy as she gave to the pursuit +of mourning I have never seen equalled in any other form of +dissipation. + +The schoolhouse was nearly full of people when we came in. The +big boys were wrestling in the yard; men were lounging on the +rude seats, inside, idly discussing crops and cattle and lapsing into +silence, frequently, that bore the signs both of expectancy and +reflection. Young men and young women sat together on one side +of the house whispering and giggling. Alone among them was the +big and eccentric granddaughter of Mrs Bisnette, who was always +slapping some youngster for impertinence. Jed Feary and Squire +Town sat together behind a pile of books, both looking very +serious. The long hair and beard of the old poet were now white +and his form bent with age. He came over and spoke to us and took +a curl of Hope's hair in his stiffened fingers and held it to the +lamplight. + +'What silky gold!' he whispered.' 'S a skein o' fate, my dear girl!' + +Suddenly the schoolteacher rapped on the desk and bade us come +to order and Ransom Walker was called to the chair. + +'Thet there is talent in Faraway township,' he said, having +reluctantly come to the platform, 'and talent of the very highest +order, no one can deny who has ever attended a lyceum at the +Howard schoolhouse. I see evidences of talent in every face before +me. And I wish to ask what are the two great talents of the Yankee +- talents that made our forefathers famous the world over? I pause +for an answer.' + +He had once been a schoolmaster and that accounted for his +didactic style. + +'What are the two great talents of the Yankee?' he repeated, his +hands clasped before him. + +'Doughnuts an' pie,' said Uncle Be who sat in a far corner. + +'No sir,' Mr Walker answered, 'there's some hev a talent fer sawin' +wood, but we don't count that. It's war an' speakin', they are the two +great talents of the Yankee. But his greatest talent is the gift o' gab. +Give him a chance t' talk it over with his enemy an' he'll lick 'im +without a fight. An' when his enemy is another Yankee - why, they +both git licked, jest as it was in the case of the man thet sold me +lightnin' rods. He was sorry he done it before I got through with +him. If we did not encourage this talent in our sons they would be +talked to death by our daughters. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives +me pleasure t' say that the best speakers in Faraway township have +come here t' discuss the important question: + +'Resolved, that intemperance has caused more misery than war? + +'I call upon Moses Tupper to open for the affirmative.' + +Moses, as I have remarked, had a most unlovely face with a thin +and bristling growth of whiskers. In giving him features Nature +had been generous to a fault. He had a large red nose, and a mouth +vastly too big for any proper use. It was a mouth fashioned for odd +sayings. He was well to do and boasted often that he was a +self-made man. Uncle Be used to say that if Mose Tupper had had +the 'makin' uv himself he'd oughter done it more careful.' + +I remember not much of the speech he made, but the picture of +him, as he rose on tiptoe and swung his arms like a man fighting +bees, and his drawling tones are as familiar as the things of +yesterday. + +'Gentlemen an' ladies,' said he presently, 'let me show you a pictur'. +It is the drunkard's child. It is hungry an' there ain't no food in its +home. The child is poorer'n a straw-fed hoss. 'Tain't hed a thing t' +eat since day before yistiddy. Pictur' it to yourselves as it comes +cryin' to its mother an' says: + +'"Ma! Gi' me a piece o' bread an' butter." + +'She covers her face with her apron an' says she, "There am none +left, my child." + +'An' bime bye the child comes agin' an' holds up its poor little han's +an' says: "Ma! please gi' me a piece O' cake." + +'An' she goes an' looks out O' the winder, er mebbe pokes the fire, +an' says: "There am' none left, my child." + +'An' bime bye it comes agin' an' it says: "Please gi' me a little piece +O' pie." + +'An' she mebbe flops into a chair an' says, sobbin', "There ain' none +left, my child." + +'No pie! Now, Mr Chairman!' exclaimed the orator, as he lifted +both hands high above his head, 'If this ain't misery, in God's name, +what is it? + +'Years ago, when I was a young man, Mr President, I went to a +dance one night at the village of Migleyville. I got a toothache, an' +the Devil tempted me with whiskey, an' I tuk one glass an' then +another an' purty soon I began t' thank I was a mighty hefty sort of +a character, I did, an' I stud on a corner an' stumped everybody t' +fight with me, an' bime bye an accomanodatin' kind of a chap +come along, an' that's all I remember O' what happened. When I +come to, my coat tails had been tore off, I'd lost one leg O' my +trousers, a bran new silver watch, tew dollars in money, an a pair +O' spectacles. When I stud up an' tried t' realise what hed happened +I felt jes' like a blind rooster with only one leg an' no tail feathers.' + +A roar of laughter followed these frank remarks of Mr Tupper and +broke into a storm of merriment when Uncle Eb rose and said: + +'Mr President, I hope you see that the misfortunes of our friend was +due t' war, an' not to intemperance.' + +Mr Tupper was unhorsed. For some minutes he stood helpless or +shaking with the emotion that possessed all. Then he finished +lamely and sat down. + +The narrowness of the man that saw so much where there was so +little in his own experience and in the trivial events of his own +township was what I now recognise as most valuable to the +purpose of this history. It was a narrowness that covered a +multitude of people in St Lawrence county in those days. + +Jed Feary was greeted with applause and then by respectful silence +when he rose to speak. The fame of his verse and his learning had +gone far beyond the narrow boundaries of the township in which +he lived. It was the biggest thing in the county. Many a poor sinner +who had gone out of Faraway to his long home got his first praise +in the obituary poem by Jed Feary. These tributes were generally +published in the county paper and paid for by the relatives of the +deceased at the rate of a dollar a day for the time spent on them, or +by a few days of board and lodging glory and consolation that was, +alas! too cheap, as one might see by a glance at his forlorn figure. I +shall never forget the courtly manner, so strangely in contrast with +the rude deportment of other men in that place, with which he +addressed the chairman and the people. The drawling dialect of the +vicinity that flavoured his conversation fell from him like a mantle +as he spoke and the light in his soul shone upon that little company +a great light, as I now remember, that filled me with burning +thoughts of the world and its mighty theatre of action. The way of +my life lay clear before me, as I listened, and its days of toil and +the sweet success my God has given me, although I take it humbly +and hold it infinitely above my merit. I was to get learning and +seek some way of expressing what was in me. + +It would ill become me to try to repeat the words of this venerable +seer, but he showed that intemperance was an individual sin, while +war was a national evil. That one meant often the ruin of a race; +the other the ruin of a family; that one was as the ocean, the other +as a single drop in its waters. And he told us of the full of empires +and the millions that had suffered the oppression of the conqueror +and perished by the sword since Agamemnon. + +After the debate a young lady read a literary paper full of clumsy +wit, rude chronicles of the countryside, essays on 'Spring', and like +topics -the work of the best talent of Faraway. Then came the +decision, after which the meeting adjourned. + +At the door some other boys tried 'to cut me out'. I came through +the noisy crowd, however, with Hope on my arm and my heart full +of a great happiness. + +'Did you like it?' she asked. + +'Very much,' I answered. + +'What did you enjoy most?' + +'Your company,' I said, with a fine air of gallantry. + +'Honestly?' + +'Honestly. I want to take you to Rickard's sometime?' + +That was indeed a long cherished hope. + +'Maybe I won't let you,' she said. + +'Wouldn't you?' + +'You'd better ask me sometime and see.' + +'I shall. I wouldn't ask any other girl.' + +'Well,' she added, with a sigh, 'if a boy likes one girl I don't think +he ought to have anything to do with other girls. I hate a flirt.' + +I happened to hear a footfall in the snow behind us, and looking +back saw Ann Jane Foster going slow in easy hearing. She knew +all, as we soon found out. + +'I dew jes love t' see young folks enjoy themselves,' said she, 'it's +entrancin".' + +Coming in at our gate I saw a man going over the wall back of the +big stables. The house was dark. + +'Did you see the night man?' Elizabeth Brower whispered as I lit +the lamp. 'Went through the garden just now. I've been watching +him here at the window.' + + + +Chapter 13 + +The love of labour was counted a great virtue there in Faraway. As +for myself I could never put my heart in a hoe handle or in any like +tool of toil. They made a blister upon my spirit as well as upon my +hands. I tried to find in the sweat of my brow that exalted pleasure +of which Mr Greeley had visions in his comfortable retreat on +Printing House Square. But unfortunately I had not his point of +view. + +Hanging in my library, where I may see it as I write, is the old +sickle of Uncle Eb. The hard hickory of its handle is worn thin by +the grip of his hand. It becomes a melancholy symbol when I +remember how also the hickory had worn him thin and bent him +low, and how infinitely better than all the harvesting of the sickle +was the strength of that man, diminishing as it wore the wood. I +cannot help smiling when I look at the sickle and thank of the soft +hands and tender amplitude of Mr Greeley. + +The great editor had been a playmate of David Brower when they +were boys, and his paper was read with much reverence in our +home. + +'How quick ye can plough a ten-acre lot with a pen,' Uncle Eb used +to say when we had gone up to bed after father had been reading +aloud from his Tribune. + +Such was the power of the press in that country one had but to say +of any doubtful thing, 'Seen it in print,' to stop all argument. If +there were any further doubt he had only to say that he had read it +either in the Tribune or the Bible, and couldn't remember which. +Then it was a mere question of veracity in the speaker. Books and +other reading were carefully put away for an improbable time of +leisure. + +'I might break my leg sometime,' said David Brower, 'then they'll +come handy.' But the Tribune was read carefully every week. + +I have seen David Brower stop and look at me while I have been +digging potatoes, with a sober grin such as came to him always +after he had swapped 'hosses' and got the worst of it. Then he +would show me again, with a little impatience in his manner, how +to hold the handle and straddle the row. He would watch me for a +moment, turn to Uncle Eb, laugh hopelessly and say: 'Thet boy'll +hev to be a minister. He can't work.' + +But for Elizabeth Brower it might have gone hard with me those +days. My mind was always on my books or my last talk with Jed +Feary, and she shared my confidence and fed my hopes and +shielded me as much as possible from the heavy work. Hope had a +better head for mathematics than I, and had always helped me with +my sums, but I had a better memory and an aptitude in other things +that kept me at the head of most of my classes. Best of all at +school I enjoyed the 'compositions' - I had many thoughts, such as +they were, and some facility of expression, I doubt not, for a child. +Many chronicles of the countryside came off my pen - sketches of +odd events and characters there in Faraway. These were read to the +assembled household. Elizabeth Brower would sit looking gravely +down at me, as I stood by her knees reading, in those days of my +early boyhood. Uncle Eb listened with his head turned curiously, +as if his ear were cocked for coons. Sometimes he and David +Brower would slap their knees and laugh heartily, whereat my +foster mother would give them a quick glance and shake her head. +For she was always fearful of the day when she should see in her +children the birth of vanity, and sought to put it off as far as might +be. Sometimes she would cover her mouth to hide a smile, and, +when I had finished, look warningly at the rest, and say it was +good, for a little boy. Her praise never went further, and indeed all +those people hated flattery as they did the devil and frowned upon +conceit She said that when the love of flattery got hold of one he +would lie to gain it. + +I can see this slender, blue-eyed woman as I write. She is walking +up and down beside her spinning-wheel. I can hear the dreary +buz-z-z-z of the spindle as she feeds it with the fleecy ropes. That +loud crescendo echoes in the still house of memory. I can hear her +singing as she steps forward and slows the wheel and swings the +cradle with her foot: + + 'On the other side of Jordan, + In the sweet fields of Eden, + Where the tree of Life is blooming, + There is rest for you. + +She lays her hand to the spokes again and the roar of the spindle +drowns her voice. + +All day, from the breakfast hour to supper time, I have heard the +dismal sound of the spinning as she walked the floor, content to +sing of rest but never taking it. + +Her home was almost a miracle of neatness. She could work with +no peace of mind until the house had been swept and dusted. A fly +speck on the window was enough to cloud her day. She went to +town with David now and then - not oftener than once a quarter - +and came back ill and exhausted. If she sat in a store waiting for +David, while he went to mill or smithy, her imagination gave her +no rest. That dirt abhorring mind of hers would begin to clean the +windows, and when that was finished it would sweep the floor and +dust the counters. In due course it would lower the big chandelier +and take out all the lamps and wash the chimneys with soap and +water and rub them till they shone. Then, if David had not come, it +would put in the rest of its time on the woodwork. With all her +cleaning I am sure the good woman kept her soul spotless. +Elizabeth Brower believed in goodness and the love of God, and +knew no fear. Uncle Eb used to say that wherever Elizabeth +Brower went hereafter it would have to be clean and comfortable. + +Elder Whitmarsh came often to dinner of a Sunday, when he and +Mrs Brower talked volubly about the Scriptures, he taking a +sterner view of God than she would allow. He was an Englishman +by birth, who had settled in Faraway because there he had found +relief for a serious affliction of asthma. + +He came over one noon in the early summer, that followed the +event of our last chapter, to tell us of a strawberry party that +evening at the White Church. + +'I've had a wonderful experience,' said he as he took a seat on the +piazza, while Mrs Brower came and sat near him. 'I've discovered a +great genius - a wandering fiddler, and I shall try to bring him to +play for us.' + +'A fiddler! why, Elder!' said she, 'you astonish me!' + +'Nothing but sacred music,' he said, lifting his hand. 'I heard him +play all the grand things today - "Rock of Ages", "Nearer My God, +to Thee", "The Marseillaise" and "Home, Sweet Home". Lifted me +off my feet! I've heard the great masters in New York and London, +but no greater player than this man.' + +'Where is he and where did he come from?' + +'He's at my house now,' said the good man. 'I found him this +morning. He stood under a tree by the road side, above Nortlrup's. +As I came near I heard the strains of "The Marseillaise". For more +than an hour I sat there listening. It was wonderful, Mrs Brower, +wonderful! The poor fellow is eccentric. He never spoke to me. +His clothes were dusty and worn. But his music went to my heart +like a voice from Heaven. When he had finished I took him home +with me, gave him food and a new coat, and left him sleeping. I +want you to come over, and be sure to bring Hope. She must sing +for us.' + +'Mr Brower will be tired out, but perhaps the young people may +go,' she said, looking at Hope and me. + +My heart gave a leap as I saw in Hope's eyes a reflection of my +own joy. In a moment she came and gave her mother a sounding +kiss and asked her what she should wear. + +'I must look my best, mother,' she said. + +'My child,' said the elder, 'it's what you do and not what you wear +that's important.' + +'They're both important, Elder,' said my foster mother. You should +teach your people the duty of comeliness. They honour their +Maker when they look their best.' + +The spirit of liberalism was abroad in the sons of the Puritans. In +Elizabeth Brower the ardent austerity of her race had been freely +diluted with humour and cheerfulness and human sympathy. It +used to be said of Deacon Hospur, a good but lazy man, that he +was given both to prayer and profanity. Uncle Eb, who had once +heard the deacon swear, when the latter had been bruised by a +kicking cow, said that, so far as he knew, the deacon never swore +except when 'twas necessary. Indeed, most of those men had, I +doubt not, too little of that fear of God in them that characterised +their fathers. And yet, as shall appear, there were in Faraway some +relics of a stern faith. + +Hope came out in fine feather, and although I have seen many +grand ladles, gowned for the eyes of kings, I have never seen a +lovelier figure than when, that evening, she came tripping down to +the buggy. It was three miles to the white Church, and riding over +in the twilight I laid the plan of my life before her. She sat a +moment in silence after I had finished. + +'I am going away, too,' she remarked, with a sigh. + +'Going away!' I said with some surprise, for in all my plans I had +secretly counted on returning in grand style to take her back with +me. + +'Going away,' said she decisively. + +'It isn't nice for girls to go away from home,' I said. + +'It isn't nice for boys, either,' said she. + +We had come to the church, its open doors and windows all aglow +with light. I helped her out at the steps, and hitched my horse +under the long shed. We entered together and made our way +through the chattering crowd to the little cloakroom in one corner. +Elder Whitmarsh arrived in a moment and the fiddler, a short, +stout, stupid-looking man, his fiddle in a black box under his arm, +followed him to the platform that had been cleared of its pulpit +The stranger stood staring vacantly at the crowd until the elder +motioned him to a chair, when he obeyed with the hesitating, blind +obedience of a dog. Then the elder made a brief prayer, and after a +few remarks flavoured with puns, sacred and immemorial as the +pulpit itself, started a brief programme of entertainment. A broad +smile marked the beginning of his lighter mood. His manner +seemed to say: 'Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will give good +heed, you shall see I can be witty on occasion.' + +Then a young man came to the platform and recited, after which +Hope went forward and sang 'The Land o' the Leal' with such spirit +that I can feel my blood go faster even now as I thank of it, and of +that girlish figure crowned with a glory of fair curls that fell low +upon her waist and mingled with the wild pink roses at her bosom. +The fiddler sat quietly as if he heard nothing until she began to +sing, when he turned to look at her. The elder announced, after the +ballad, that he had brought with him a wonderful musician who +would favour them with some sacred music. He used the word +'sacred' because he had observed, I suppose, that certain of the +'hardshells' were looking askance at the fiddle. There was an +awkward moment in which the fiddler made no move or sign of +intelligence. The elder stepped near him and whispered. Getting no +response, he returned to the front of the platform and said: 'We +shall first resign ourselves to social intercourse and the good things +the ladies have provided.' + +Mountains of frosted cake reared their snowy summits on a long +table, and the strawberries, heaped in saucers around them, were +like red foothills. I remember that while they were serving us Hope +and I were introduced to one Robert Livingstone - a young New +Yorker, stopping at the inn near by, on his way to the big woods. +He was a handsome fellow, with such a fine air of gallantry and so +trig in fashionable clothes that he made me feel awkward and +uncomfortable. + +'I have never heard anything more delightful than that ballad,' he +said to Hope. 'You must have your voice trained - you really must. +It will make a great name for you.' + +I wondered then why his words hurt me to the soul. The castle of +my dreams had fallen as he spoke. A new light came into her face - +I did not know then what it meant. + +'Will you let me call upon you before I leave - may I?' He turned to +me while she stood silent. 'I wish to see your father,' he added. + +'Certainly,' she answered, blushing, 'you may come - if you care to +come. + +The musician had begun to thrum the strings of his violin. We +turned to look at him. He still sat in his chair, his ear bent to the +echoing chamber of the violin. Soon he laid his bow to the strings +and a great chord hushed every whisper and died into a sweet, low +melody, in which his thought seemed to be feeling its way through +sombre paths of sound. The music brightened, the bow went faster, +and suddenly 'The Girl I Left Behind Me' came rushing off the +strings. A look of amazement gathered on the elder's face and +deepened into horror. It went from one to another as if it had been +a dish of ipecac. Ann Jane Foster went directly for her things, and +with a most unchristian look hurried out into the night. Half a +dozen others followed her, while the unholy music went on, its +merry echoes rioting in that sacred room, hallowed with memories +of the hour of conviction, of the day of mourning, of the coming of +the bride in her beauty. + +Deacon Hospur rose and began to drawl a sort of apology, when +the player stopped suddenly and shot an oath at him. The deacon +staggered under the shock of it. His whiskers seemed to lift a bit +like the hair of a cat under provocation. Then he tried to speak, but +only stuttered helplessly a moment as if his tongue were oscillating +between silence and profanity, and was finally pulled down by his +wife, who had laid hold of his coat tails. If it had been any other +man than Deacon Hospur it would have gone badly with the +musician then and there, but we boys saw his discomfiture with +positive gratitude. In a moment all rose, the dishes were gathered +up, and many hurried away with indignant glances at the poor +elder, who was busy taking counsel with some of the brethren. + +I have never seen a more pathetic figure than that of poor Nick +Goodall as he sat there thrumming the strings of which he was a +Heaven-born master. I saw him often after that night - a poor, +halfwitted creature, who wandered from inn to inn there in the +north country, trading music for hospitality. A thoroughly +intelligible sentence never passed his lips, but he had a great gift of +eloquence in music. Nobody knew whence he had come or any +particular of his birth or training or family. But for his sullen +temper, that broke into wild, unmeaning profanity at times, Nick +Goodall would have made fame and fortune. + +He stared at the thinning crowd as if he had begun dimly to +comprehend the havoc he had wrought. Then he put on his hat, +came down off the platform, and shuffled out of the open door, his +violin in one hand, its box in the other. There were not more than a +dozen of us who followed him into the little churchyard. The moon +was rising, and the shadows of lilac and rose bush, of slab and +monument lay long across the green mounds. Standing there +between the graves of the dead he began to play. I shall never +forget that solemn calling of the silver string: + +'Come ye disconsolate where'er ye languish.' + +It was a new voice, a revelation, a light where darkness had been, +to Hope and to me. We stood listening far into the night, forgetful +of everything, even the swift flight of the hours. + +Loud, impassioned chords rose into the moonlit sky and sank to a +faint whisper of melody, when we could hear the gossip of the +birds in the belfry and under the eaves; trembling tones of +supplication, wailing notes of longing and regret swept through the +silent avenues of the churchyard, thrilling us with their eloquence. +For the first time we heard the music of Handel, of Mendelssohn, +of Paganini, and felt its power, then knowing neither name nor +theme. Hour by hour he played on for the mere joy of it. When we +shook hands with the elder and tiptoed to the buggy he was still +playing. We drove slowly and listened a long way down the road. I +could hear the strains of that ballad, then new to me, but now +familiar, growing fainter in the distance: + +O ye'll tak' the high road an' I'll tak' the low road +An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye; +But me an' me true love will never meet again +On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond. + +what connection it may have had with the history of poor Nick +Goodall [*1] I have often wondered. + +[*1] Poor Nick Coodall died in the almshouse of Jefferson County +some thirty years ago. A better account of this incident was widely +printed at that time. + +As the last note died into silence I turned to Hope, and she was +crying. + +'Why are you crying?' I asked, in as miserable a moment as I have +ever known. + +'It's the music,' she said. + +We both sat in silence, then, hearing only the creak of the buggy as +it sped over the sandy road. Well ahead of us I saw a man who +suddenly turned aside, vaulting over the fence and running into the +near woods. + +'The night man!' I exclaimed, pulling up a moment to observe him. + +Then a buggy came in sight, and presently we heard a loud 'hello' +from David Brower, who, worried by our long stay, had come out +in quest of us. + + + +Chapter 14 + +Hope's love of music became a passion after that night. Young Mr +Livingstone, 'the city chap' we had met at the church, came over +next day. His enthusiasm for her voice gave us all great hope of it. +David Brower said he would take her away to the big city when +she was older. They soon decided to send her in September to the +big school in Hillsborough. + +'She's got t' be a lady,' said David Brower, as he drew her into his +lap the day we had all discussed the matter. 'She's learnt everything +in the 'rithinetic an' geography an' speller. I want her t' learn +somethin' more scientific.' + +'Now you're talkin',' said Uncle Eb. 'There's lots o' things ye can't +learn by cipherin'. Nuthin's too good fer Hope.' + +'I'd like t' know what you men expect of her anyway,' said +Elizabeth Brower. + +'A high stepper,' said Uncle Eb. 'We want a slick coat, a kind uv a +toppy head, an a lot O' ginger. So't when we hitch 'er t' the pole +bime bye we shan't be 'shamed o' her.' + +'Eggzac'ly,' said David Brower, laughing. 'An' then she shall have +the best harness in the market.' + +Hope did not seem to comprehend all the rustic metaphors that had +been applied to her. A look of puzzled amusement came over her +face, and then she ran away into the garden, her hair streaming +from under her white sun-bonnet. + +'Never see sech a beauty! Beats the world,' said Uncle Eb in a +whisper, whereat both David and Elizabeth shook their heads. + +'Lord o' mercy! Don't let her know it,' Elizabeth answered, in a low +tone. 'She's beginning to have-' + +Just then Hope came by us leading her pet filly that had been born +within the month. Immediately Mrs Brower changed the subject. + +'To have what?' David enquired as soon as the girl was out of +hearing. + +'Suspicions,' said Elizabeth mournfully. 'Spends a good deal of her +time at the looking-glass. I think the other girls tell her and then +that young Livingstone has been turning her head.' + +'Turning her head!' he exclaimed. + +'Turning her head,' she answered. 'He sat here the other day and +deliberately told her that he had never seen such a complexion and +such lovely hair.' + +Elizabeth Brower mocked his accent with a show of contempt that +feebly echoed my own emotions. + +'That's the way o' city folks, mother,' said David. + +'It's a bad way,' she answered. 'I do not thank he ought to come +here. Hope's a child yet, and we mustn't let her get notions.' + +'I'll tell him not t' come any more,' said David, as he and Uncle Eb +rose to go to their work.' + +'I'm 'fraid she ought not to go away to school for a year yet,' said +Elizabeth, a troubled look in her face. + +'Pshaw, mother! Ye can't keep her under yer wing alwus,' said he. +'Well, David, you know she is very young and uncommonly - ' she +hesitated. + +'Han'some,' said he, 'we might as well own up if she is our child.' + +'If she goes away,' continued Elizabeth, 'some of us ought t' go with +her.' + +Then Uncle Eb and David went to their work in the fields and I to +my own task That very evening they began to talk of renting the +farm and going to town with the children. + +I had a stent of cording wood that day and finished it before two +o'clock Then I got my pole of mountain ash, made hook and line +ready, dug some worms and went fishing. I cared not so much for +the fishing as for the solitude of the woods. I had a bit of thing to +do. In the thick timber there was a place where Tinkle brook began +to hurry and break into murmurs on a pebble bar, as if its feet were +tickled. A few more steps and it burst into a peal of laughter that +lasted half the year as it tumbled over narrow shelves of rock into +a foamy pool. Many a day I had sat fishing for hours at the little +fall under a birch tree, among the brakes and moss. No ray of +sunlight ever got to the dark water below me - the lair of many a +big fish that had yielded to the temptation of my bait. Here I lay in +the cool shade while a singular sort of heart sickness came over +me. A wild partridge was beating his gong in the near woods all +the afternoon. The sound of the water seemed to break in the +tree-tops and fall back upon me. I had lain there thinking an hour +or more when I caught the jar of approaching footsteps. Looking +up I saw Jed Feary coming through the bushes, pole in hand. + +'Fishin'?' he asked. + +'Only thinking,' I answered. + +'Couldn't be in better business,' said he as he sat down beside me. + +More than once he had been my father confessor and I was glad he +had come. + +'In love?' he asked. 'No boy ever thinks unless he's in love.' + +'In trouble,' said I. + +'Same thing,' he answered, lighting his pipe. 'Love is trouble with a +bit of sugar in it - the sweetest trouble a man can have. What's the +matter?' + +'It's a great secret,' I said, 'I have never told it. I am in love.' + +'Knew it,' he said, puffing at his pipe and smiling in a kindly way. +'Now let's put in the trouble.' + +'She does not love me,' I answered. + +'Glad of it,' he remarked. 'I've got a secret t, tell you.' + +'What's that?' I enquired. + +'Wouldn't tell anybody else for the world, my boy,' he said, 'it's +between you an' me.' + +'Between you an' me,' I repeated. + +'Well,' he said, you're a fool.' + +'That's no secret,' I answered much embarrassed. + +'Yes it is,' he insisted, 'you're smart enough an' ye can have most +anything in this world if ye take the right road. Ye've grown t' be a +great big strapping fellow but you're only - sixteen?' + +'That's all,' I said mournfully. + +'Ye're as big a fool to go falling in love as I'd be. Ye're too young +an' I'm too old. I say to you, wait. Ye've got to go t' college.' + +'College!' I exclaimed, incredulously. + +'Yes! an' thet's another secret,' said he. I tol' David Brower what I +thought o' your writing thet essay on bugs in pertickier - an' I tol' +'im what people were sayin' o' your work in school.' + +'What d' he say?' I asked. + +'Said Hope had tol' him all about it - that she was as proud o' you as +she was uv her curls, an' I believe it. "Well," says I, "y' oughter sen' +that boy t' college." "Goin' to," says he. "He'll go t' the 'Cademy this +fall if he wants to. Then he can go t' college soon's he's ready." +Threw up my hat an' shouted I was that glad.' + +As he spoke the old man's face kindled with enthusiasm. In me he +had one who understood him, who saw truth in his thought, music +in his verse, a noble simplicity in his soul. I took his hand in mine +and thanked him heartily. Then we rose and came away together. + +'Remember,' he said, as we parted at the corner, 'there's a way laid +out fer you. In God's time it will lead to every good thing you +desire. Don't jump over the fence. Don't try t' pass any milestun +'fore ye've come to it. Don't mope. Keep yer head cool with +philosophy, yer feet warm with travel an' don't worry bout yer +heart. It won't turn t' stun if ye do keep it awhile. Allwus hev +enough of it about ye t' do business with. Goodbye!' + + + +Chapter 15 + +Gerald Brower, who was a baby when I came to live at Faraway, +and was now eleven, had caught a cold in seed time, and he had +never quite recovered. His coughing had begun to keep him awake, +and one night it brought alarm to the whole household. Elizabeth +Brower was up early in the morning and called Uncle Eb, who +went away for the doctor as soon as light came. We ate our +breakfast in silence. Father and mother and Grandma Bisnette +spoke only in low tones and somehow the anxiety in their faces +went to my heart. Uncle Eb returned about eight o'clock and said +the doctor was coming. Old Doctor Bigsby was a very great man in +that country. Other physicians called him far and wide for +consultation. I had always regarded him with a kind of awe +intensified by the aroma of his drugs and the gleam of his lancet. +Once I had been his patient and then I had trembled at his +approach. When he took my little wrist in his big hand, I remember +with what reluctance I stuck out my quivering tongue, black, as I +feared with evidences of prevarication. + +He was a picture for a painter man as he came that morning erect +in his gig. Who could forget the hoary majesty of his head - his +'stovepipe' tilted back, his white locks flying about his ears? He +had a long nose, a smooth-shaven face and a left eye that was a +trifle turned. His thoughts were generally one day behind the +calendar. Today he seemed to be digesting the affairs of yesterday. +He was, therefore, absentminded, to a degree that made no end of +gossip. If he came out one day with shoe-strings flying, in his +remorse the next he would forget his collar; if one told him a good +joke today, he might not seem to hear it, but tomorrow he would +take it up in its turn and shake with laughter. + +I remember how, that morning after noting the symptoms of his +patient, he sat a little in silent reflection. He knew that colour in +the cheek, that look in the eye - he had seen so much of it. His legs +were crossed and one elbow thrown carelessly over the back of his +chair. We all sat looking at him anxiously. In a moment he began +chewing hard on his quid of tobacco. Uncle Eb pushed the +cuspidor a bit nearer. The doctor expectorated freely and resumed +his attitude of reflection. The clock ticked loudly, the patient +sighed, our anxiety increased. Uncle Eb spoke to father, in a low +tone, whereupon the doctor turned suddenly, with a little grunt of +enquiry, and seeing he was not addressed, sank again into +thoughtful repose. I had begun to fear the worst when suddenly the +hand of the doctor swept the bald peak of benevolence at the top of +his head. Then a smile began to spread over his face. It was as if +some feather of thought had begun to tickle him. In a moment his +head was nodding with laughter that brought a great sense of relief +to all of us. In a slow, deliberate tone he began to speak: + +'I was over t' Rat Tupper's t'other day,' said he, 'Rat was sitting with +me in the door yard. Purty soon a young chap came in, with a +scythe, and asked if he might use the grindstun. He was a new +hired man from somewhere near. He didn't know Rat, an' Rat +didn't know him. So Rat o' course had t' crack one o' his jokes. + +'"May I use yer grindstun?" said the young feller. + +'"Dunno," said Rat, "I'm only the hired man here. Go an' ask Mis' +Tupper." + +'The ol' lady had overheard him an' so she says t' the young feller, +"Yes - ye can use the grindstun. The hired man out there'll turn it +fer ye." + +'Rat see he was trapped, an' so he went out under the plum tree, +where the stun was, an' begun t' turn. The scythe was dull an' the +young feller bore on harder'n wuz reely decent fer a long time. Rat +begun t' git very sober lookin'. + +'"Ain't ye 'bout done," said he. + +'"Putty nigh," said the young feller bearin' down a leetle harder all +the time. + +'Rat made the stun go faster. Putty soon he asked agin, "Ain't ye +done yit?" + +'"Putty nigh!" says the other, feeling o' the edge. + +'"I'm done," said Rat, an' he let go o' the handle. "I dunno 'bout the +scythe but I'm a good deal sharper'n I wuz." + +'"You're the hired man here ain't ye?" said the young feller. + +'"No, I ain't," said Rat. "'D rather own up t' bein' a liar than turn that +stun another minnit." + +As soon as he was fairly started with this droll narrative the strain +of the situation was relieved. We were all laughing as much at his +deliberate way of narration as at the story itself. + +Suddenly he turned to Elizabeth Brower and said, very soberly, +'Will you bring me some water in a glass?' + +Then he opened his chest of medicine, made some powders and +told us how to give them. + +'In a few days I would take him into the big woods for a while,' he +said. 'See how it agrees with him.' + +Then he gathered up his things and mother went with him to the +gig. + +Humour was one of the specifics of Doctor Bigsby. He was always +a poor man. He had a way of lumping his bills, at about so much, +in settlement and probably never kept books. A side of pork paid +for many a long journey. He came to his death riding over the hills +one bitter day not long after the time of which I write, to reach a +patient. + +The haying over, we made ready for our trip into the woods. Uncle +Eb and Tip Taylor, who knew the forest, and myself, were to go +with Gerald to Blueberry Lake. We loaded our wagon with +provisions one evening and made ready to be off at the break of +day. + + + +Chapter 16 + +I remember how hopefully we started that morning with Elizabeth +Brower and Hope waving their handkerchiefs on the porch and +David near them whittling. They had told us what to do and what +not to do over and over again. I sat with Gerald on blankets that +were spread over a thick mat of hay. The morning air was sweet +with the odour of new hay and the music of the bobolink. Uncle +Eb and Tip Taylor sang merrily as we rode over the hills. + +When we entered the shade of the big forest Uncle Eb got out his +rifle and loaded it. He sat a long time whispering and looking +eagerly for game to right and left. He was still a boy. One could +see evidences of age only in his white hair and beard and wrinkled +brow. He retained the little tufts in front of his ears, and lately had +grown a silver crescent of thin and silky hair that circled his throat +under a bare chin. Young as I was I had no keener relish for a +holiday than he. At noon we halted beside a brook and unhitched +our horses. Then we caught some fish, built a fire and cooked +them, and brewed our tea. At sunset we halted at Tuley Pond, +looking along its reedy margin, under purple tamaracks, for deer. +There was a great silence, here in the deep of the woods, and Tip +Taylor's axe, while he peeled the bark for our camp, seemed to fill +the wilderness with echoes. It was after dark when the shanty was +covered and we lay on its fragrant mow of balsam and hemlock. +The great logs that we had rolled in front of our shanty were set +afire and shortly supper was cooking. + +Gerald had stood the journey well. Uncle Eb and he stayed in +while Tip and I got our jack ready and went off in quest of a +dugout He said Bill Ellsworth had one hid in a thicket on the south +side of Tuley. We found it after an hour's tramp near by. It needed +a little repairing but we soon made it water worthy, and then took +our seats, he in the stern, with the paddle, and I in the bow with the +gun. Slowly and silently we clove a way through the star-sown +shadows. It was like the hushed and mystic movement of a dream. +We seemed to be above the deep of heaven, the stars below us. +The shadow of the forest in the still water looked like the wall of +some mighty castle with towers and battlements and myriads of +windows lighted for a fete. Once the groan of a nighthawk fell out +of the upper air with a sound like that of a stone striking in water. I +thought little of the deer Tip was after. His only aim in life was the +one he got with a gun barrel. I had forgotten all but the beauty of +the scene. Suddenly Tip roused me by laying his hand to the +gunwale and gently shaking the dugout. In the dark distance, ahead +of us, I could hear the faint tinkle of dripping water. Then I knew a +deer was feeding not far away and that the water was falling from +his muzzle. When I opened my jack we were close upon him. His +eyes gleamed. I shot high above the deer that went splashing +ashore before I had pulled my trigger. After the roar of the gun had +got away, in the distant timber, Tip mentioned a place abhorred of +all men, turned and paddled for the landing. + +'Could 'a killed 'im with a club,' said he snickering. 'Guess he must +a looked putty tall didn't he?' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'Cos ye aimed into the sky,' said he. 'Mebbe ye thought he was a +bird.' + +'My hand trembled a little,' said I. + +''Minds me of Bill Barber,' he said in a half-whisper, as he worked +his paddle, chuckling with amusement. + +'How's that?' I asked. + +'Nothin' safe but the thing he shoots at,' said he. 'Terrible bad shot. +Kills a cow every time he goes huntin'.' + +Uncle Eb was stirring the fire when we came whispering into +camp, and Gerald lay asleep under the blankets. + +'Willie couldn't hit the broadside of a bam,' said Tip. 'He don't take +to it nat'ral.' + +'Killin' an' book learnin' don't often go together,' said Uncle Eb. + +I turned in by the side of Gerald and Uncle Eb went off with Tip +for another trip in the dugout. The night was chilly but the fire +flooded our shanty with its warm glow. What with the light, and the +boughs under us, and the strangeness of the black forest we got +little sleep. I heard the gun roar late in the night, and when I woke +again Uncle Eb and Tip Taylor were standing over the fire in the +chilly grey of the morning. A dead deer hung on the limb of a tree +near by. They began dressing it while Gerald and I went to the +spring for water, peeled potatoes, and got the pots boiling. After a +hearty breakfast we packed up, and were soon on the road again, +reaching Blueberry Lake before noon. There we hired a boat of the +lonely keeper of the reservoir, found an abandoned camp with an +excellent bark shanty and made ourselves at home. + +That evening in camp was one to be remembered. An Thomas, the +guide who tended the reservoir, came over and sat beside our fire +until bedtime. He had spent years in the wilderness going out for +nothing less important than an annual spree at circus time. He eyed +us over, each in turn, as if he thought us all very rare and +interesting. + +'Many bears here?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'More plenty 'n human bein's,' he answered, puffing lazily at his +pipe with a dead calm in his voice and manner that I have never +seen equalled except in a tropic sea. + +'See 'em often?' I asked. + +He emptied his pipe, striking it on his palm until the bowl rang, +without answering. Then he blew into the stem with great +violence. + +'Three or four 'n a summer, mebbe,' he said at length. + +'Ever git sassy?' Uncle Eb asked. + +He whipped a coal out of the ashes then and lifted it in his fingers +to the bowl of his pipe. + +'Never real sassy,' he said between vigourous puffs. 'One stole a +ham off my pyazz las' summer; Al Fifield brought 't in fer me one +day - smelt good too! I kep' savin' uv it thinkin' I'd enjoy it all the +more when I did hev it. One day I went off cuttin' timber an' stayed +'til mos' night. Comin' home I got t' thinkin' o' thet ham, an' made +up my mind I'd hev some fer supper. The more I thought uv it the +faster I hurried an' when I got hum I was hungrier'n I'd been fer a +year. When I see the ol' bear's tracks an' the empty peg where the +ham had hung I went t' work an' got mad. Then I started after thet +bear. Tracked 'im over yender, up Cat Mountin'.' + +Here Ab paused. He had a way of stopping always at the most +interesting point to puff at his pipe. It looked as if he were getting +up steam for another sentence and these delays had the effect of +'continued in our next'. + +'Kill 'im?' Uncle Eb asked. + +'Licked him,' he said. + +'Huh!' we remarked incredulously. + +'Licked 'im,' he repeated chucking. 'Went into his cave with a +sledge stake an' whaled 'im - whaled 'im 'til he run fer his life.' + +Whether it was true or not I have never been sure, even to this day, +but Ab's manner was at once modest and convincing. + +'Should 'a thought he'd 'a rassled with ye,' Uncle Eb remarked. + +'Didn't give 'im time,' said Ab, as he took out his knife and began +slowly to sharpen a stick. + +'Don't never wan' t' rassle with no bear,' he added, 'but hams is too +scurce here 'n the woods t' hev 'em tuk away 'fore ye know the taste +uv 'em. I ain't never been hard on bears. Don't seldom ever set no +traps an' I ain't shot a bear fer mor'n 'n ten year. But they've got t' be +decent. If any bear steals my vittles he's goin' t' git cuffed bard.' + +Ab's tongue had limbered up at last. His pipe was going well and +he seemed to have struck an easy grade. There was a tone of injury +and aggrievement in his talk of the bear's ingratitude. He snailed +over his whittling as we laughed heartily at the droll effect of it all. + +'D'ye ever hear o' the wild man 'at roams 'round'n these woods?' he +asked. + +'Never did,' said Uncle Eb. + +'I've seen 'im more times 'n ye could shake a stick at,' said Ab +crossing his legs comfortably and spitting into the fire. 'Kind o' +thank he's the same man folks tells uv down 'n Paradise Valley +there - 'at goes 'round 'n the clearin' after bedtime.' + +'The night man!' I exclaimed. + +'Guess thet's what they call 'im,' said Ab. 'Curus man! Sometimes +I've hed a good squint at 'im off 'n the woods. He's wilder 'n a deer +an' I've seen 'im jump over logs, half as high as this shanty, jest as +easy as ye 'd hop a twig. Tried t' foller 'im once er twice but tain' no +use. He's quicker 'n a wil' cat.' + +'What kind of a lookin' man is he?' Tip Taylor asked. + +'Great, big, broad-shouldered feller,' said Ab. 'Six feet tall if he's an +inch. Hed a kind of a deerskin jacket on when I seen 'im an' +breeches an' moccasins made o' some kind o' hide. I recollec' one +day I was over on the ridge two mile er more from the Stillwater +goin' south. I seen 'im gittin' a drink at the spring there 'n the burnt +timber. An' if I ain't mistaken there was a real live panther playin' +'round 'im. If 't wa'n't a panther 'twas pesky nigh it I can tell ye. The +critter see me fast an' drew up 'is back. Then the man got up +quickerin' a flash. Soon 'she see me -Jeemimey! didn't they move. +Never see no human critter run as he did! A big tree hed fell 'cross +a lot o' bush right 'n his path. I'll be gol dummed if 'twan't higher 'n +my head! But he cleared it - jest as easy as a grasshopper'd go over +a straw. I'd like t' know wher he comes from, gol dummed if I +wouldn't. He's the consarndest queerest animal 'n these woods.' + +Ab emphasised this lucid view of the night man by an animated +movement of his fist that held the big hunting knife with which he +whittled. Then he emptied his pipe and began cutting more +tobacco. + +'Some says 'e 's a ghost,' said Tip Taylor, splitting his sentence with +a yawn, as he lay on a buffalo robe in the shanty. + +'Shucks an' shoestrings!' said Ab, 'he looks too nat'ral. Don't believe +no ghost ever wore whiskers an' long hair like his'n. Thet don't hol' +t' reason.' + +This remark was followed by dead silence. Tip seemed to lack +both courage and information with which to prolong the argument. + +Gerald had long been asleep and we were all worn out with uphill +travelling and the lack of rest. Uncle Eb went out to look after the +horses that were tethered near us. Ab rose, looked up through the +tree-tops, ventured a guess about the weather, and strode off into +the darkness. + +We were five days in camp, hunting, fishing, fighting files and +picking blueberries. Gerald's cough had not improved at all - it +was, if anything, a bit worse than it had been and the worry of that +had clouded our holiday. We were not in high spirits when, finally, +we decided to break camp the next afternoon. + +The morning of our fourth day at Blueberry Uncle Eb and I crossed +the lake, at daylight, to fish awhile in Soda Brook and gather +orchids then abundant and beautiful in that part of the woods. We +headed for camp at noon and were well away from shore when a +wild yell rang in the dead timber that choked the wide inlet behind +us. I was rowing and stopped the oars while we both looked back +at the naked trees, belly deep in the water. + +But for the dry limbs, here and there, they would have looked like +masts of sunken ships. In a moment another wild whoop came +rushing over the water. Thinking it might be somebody in trouble +we worked about and pulled for the mouth of the inlet. Suddenly I +saw a boat coming in the dead timber. There were three men in it, +two of whom were paddling. They yelled like mad men as they +caught sight of us, and one of them waved a bottle in the air. + +'They're Indians,' said Uncle Eb. 'Drunk as lords. Guess we'd better +git out o' the way.' + +I put about and with a hearty pull made for the other side of the +lake, three miles away. The Indians came after us, their yells +echoing in the far forest. Suddenly one of them lifted his rifle, as if +taking aim at us, and, bang it went the ball ricocheting across our +bows. + +'Crazy drunk,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they're in fer trouble. Pull with all +yer might.' + +I did that same putting my arms so stiffly to their task I feared the +oars would break. + +In a moment another ball came splintering the gunwales right +between us, but fortunately, well above the water line. Being half a +mile from shore I saw we were in great peril. Uncle Eb reached for +his rifle, his hand trembling. + +'Sink 'em,' I shouted, 'an' do it quick or they'll sink us.' + +My old companion took careful aim and his ball hit them right on +the starboard bow below the water line. A splash told where it had +landed. They stopped yelling. The man in the bow clapped his hat +against the side of the boat. + +'Guess we've gin 'em a little business t' ten' to,' said Uncle Eb as he +made haste to load his rifle. + +The Indian at the bow was lifting his rifle again. He seemed to reel +as he took aim. He was very slow about it. I kept pulling as I +watched him. I saw that their boat was slowly sinking. I had a +strange fear that he would hit me in the stomach. I dodged when I +saw the flash of his rifle. His ball struck the water, ten feet away +from us, and threw a spray into my face. + +Uncle Eb had lifted his rifle to shoot again. Suddenly the Indian, +who had shot at us, went overboard. In a second they were all in +the water, their boat bottom up. + +'Now take yer time,' said Uncle Eb coolly, a frown upon his face. + +'They'll drown,' said I. + +'Don't care if they do, consam 'em,' he answered. 'They're some o' +them St Regis devils, an' when they git whisky in 'em they'd jes' +soon kill ye as look at ye. They am' no better 'n rats.' + +We kept on our way and by and by a wind came up that gave us +both some comfort, for we knew it would soon blow them ashore. +Ab Thomas had come to our camp and sat with Tip and Gerald +when we got there. We told of our adventure and then Ab gave us +a bad turn, and a proper appreciation of our luck, by telling us that +they were a gang of cut-throats - the worst in the wilderness. + +'They'd a robbed ye sure,' he said. 'It's the same gang 'at killed a +man on Cat Mountain las' summer, an' I'll bet a dollar on it.' + +Tip had everything ready for our journey home. Each day Gerald +had grown paler and thinner. As we wrapped him in a shawl and +tenderly helped him into the wagon I read his doom in his face. +We saw so much of that kind of thing in our stern climate we knew +what it meant. Our fun was over. We sat in silence, speeding down +the long hills in the fading light of the afternoon. Those few +solemn hours in which I heard only the wagon's rumble and the +sweet calls of the whip-poor-will-waves of music on a sea of +silence-started me in a way of thought which has led me high and +low these many years and still invites me. The day was near its end +when we got to the first big clearing. From the top of a high hill we +could see above the far forest, the red rim of the setting sun, big +with winding from the skein of day, that was now flying off the +tree-tops in the west. + +We stopped to feed the horses and to take a bite of jerked venison, +wrapped ourselves warmer, for it was now dunk and chilly, and +went on again. The road went mostly downhill, going out of the +woods, and we could make good time. It was near midnight when +we drove in at our gate. There was a light in the sitting-room and +Uncle Eb and I went in with Gerald at once. Elizabeth Brower +knelt at the feet of her son, unbuttoned his coat and took off his +muffler. Then she put her arms about his neck while neither spoke +nor uttered any sound. Both mother and son felt and understood +and were silent. The ancient law of God, that rends asunder and +makes havoc of our plans, bore heavy on them in that moment, I +have no doubt, but neither murmured. Uncle Eb began to pump +vigorously at the cistern while David fussed with the fire. We were +all quaking inwardly but neither betrayed a sign of it. It is a way +the Puritan has of suffering. His emotions are like the deep +undercurrents of the sea. + + + +Chapter 17 + +If I were writing a novel merely I should try to fill it with +merriment and good cheer. I should thrust no sorrow upon the +reader save that he might feel for having wasted his time. We have +small need of manufactured sorrow when, truly, there is so much +of the real thing on every side of us. But this book is nothing more +nor less than a history, and by the same token it cannot be all as I +would have wished it. In October following the events of the last +chapter, Gerald died of consumption, having borne a lingering +illness with great fortitude. I, who had come there a homeless +orphan in a basket, and who, with the God-given eloquence of +childhood had brought them to take me to their hearts and the old +man that was with me as well, was now the only son left to +Elizabeth and David Brower. There were those who called it folly +at the time they took us in, I have heard, but he who shall read this +history to the end shall see how that kind of folly may profit one or +even many here in this hard world. + +It was a gloomy summer for all of us. The industry and patience +with which Hope bore her trial, night and day, is the sweetest +recollection of my youth. It brought to her young face a tender +soberness of womanhood - a subtle change of expression that +made her all the more dear to me. Every day, rain or shine, the old +doctor had come to visit his patient, sometimes sitting an hour and +gazing thoughtfully in his face, occasionally asking a question, or +telling a quaint anecdote. And then came the end. + +The sky was cold and grey in the late autumn and the leaves were +drifted deep in the edge of the woodlands when Hope and I went +away to school together at Hillsborough. Uncle Eb drove us to our +boarding place in town. When we bade him goodbye and saw him +driving away, alone in the wagon, we hardly dared look at each +other for the tears in our eyes. + +David Brower had taken board for us at the house of one Solomon +Rollin - universally known as 'Cooky' Rollin; that was one of the +first things I learned at the Academy. It seemed that many years +ago he had taken his girl to a dance and offered her, in lieu of +supper, cookies that he had thoughtfully brought with him. Thus +cheaply he had come to life-long distinction. + +'You know Rollin's Ancient History, don't you?' the young man +asked who sat with me at school that first day. + +'Have it at home,' I answered, 'It's in five volumes.' + +'I mean the history of Sol Rollin, the man you are boarding with,' +said he smiling at me and then he told the story of the cookies. + +The principal of the Hillsborough Academy was a big, brawny +bachelor of Scotch descent, with a stem face and cold, grey, +glaring eyes. When he stood towering above us on his platform in +the main room of the building where I sat, there was an alertness in +his figure, and a look of responsibility in his face, that reminded +me of the pictures of Napoleon at Waterloo. He always carried a +stout ruler that had blistered a shank of every mischievous boy in +school. As he stood by the line, that came marching into prayers +every morning he would frequently pull out a boy, administer a +loud whack or two, shake him violently and force him into a seat. +The day I began my studies at the Academy I saw him put two +dents in the wall with the heels of a young man who had failed in +his algebra. To a bashful and sensitive youth, just out of a country +home, the sight of such violence was appalling. My first talk with +him, however, renewed my courage. He had heard I was a good +scholar and talked with me in a friendly way about my plans. Both +Hope and I were under him in algebra and Latin. I well remember +my first error in his class. I had misconstrued a Latin sentence. He +looked at me, a smile and a sneer crowding each other for +possession of his face. In a loud, jeering tone he cried: 'Mirabile +dictu!' + +I looked at him in doubt of his meaning. + +'Mirabile dictu!' he shouted, his tongue trilling the r. + +I corrected my error. + +'Perfect!' he cried again. 'Puer pulchre! Next!' + +He never went further than that with me in the way of correction. +My size and my skill as a wrestler, that shortly ensured for me the +respect of the boys, helped me to win the esteem of the master. I +learned my lessons and kept out of mischief. But others of equal +proficiency were not so fortunate. He was apt to be hard on a light +man who could be handled without over-exertion. + +Uncle Eb came in to see me one day and sat awhile with me in my +seat. While he was there the master took a boy by the collar and +almost literally wiped the blackboard with him. There was a great +clatter of heels for a moment. Uncle Eb went away shortly and was +at Sol Rollin's when I came to dinner. + +'Powerful man ain't he?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Rather,' I said. + +'Turned that boy into a reg'lar horse fiddle,' he remarked. 'Must 'ave +unsot his reason.' + +'Unnecessary!' I said. + +'Reminded me o' the time 'at Tip Taylor got his tooth pulled,' said +he. 'Shook 'im up so 'at he thought he'd had his neck put out o' ji'nt.' + +Sol Rollin was one of my studies that winter. He was a carpenter +by trade and his oddities were new and delightful. He whistled as +he worked, he whistled as he read, he whistled right merrily as he +walked up and down the streets - a short, slight figure with a round +boyish face and a fringe of iron-grey hair under his chin. The little +man had one big passion - that for getting and saving. The ancient +thrift of his race had pinched him small and narrow as a foot is +stunted by a tight shoe. His mind was a bit out of register as we say +in the printing business. His vocabulary was rich and vivid and +stimulating. + +'Somebody broke into the arsenic today,' he announced, one +evening, at the supper table. + +'The arsenic,' said somebody, 'what arsenic?' + +'Why the place where they keep the powder,' he answered. + +'Oh! the arsenal.' + +'Yes, the arsenal,' he said, cackling with laughter at his error. Then +he grew serious. + +'Stole all the ambition out of it,' he added. + +'You mean ammunition, don't you, Solomon?' his wife enquired. + +'Certainly,' said he, 'wasn't that what I said.' + +When he had said a thing that met his own approval Sol Rollin +would cackle most cheerfully and then crack a knuckle by twisting +a finger. His laugh was mostly out of register also. It had a sad lack +of relevancy. He laughed on principle rather than provocation. +Some sort of secret comedy of which the world knew nothing, was +passing in his mind; it seemed to have its exits and its entrances, +its villain, its clown and its miser who got all the applause. + +While working his joy was unconfined. Many a time I have sat and +watched him in his little shop, its window dim with cobwebs. +Sometimes he would stop whistling and cackle heartily as he +worked his plane or drew his pencil to the square. I have even seen +him drop his tools and give his undivided attention to laughter. He +did not like to be interrupted - he loved his own company the best +while he was 'doin' business'. I went one day when he was singing +the two lines and their quaint chorus which was all he ever sang in +my hearing; which gave him great relief, I have no doubt, when lip +weary with whistling: + + Sez I 'Dan'l Skinner, I thank yer mighty mean + To send me up the river, With a sev'n dollar team' + Lul-ly, ul - ly, diddie ul - ly, diddleul - lydee, Oh, + lul-ly, ul - ly, diddle ul - ly, diddle ul - ly dee. + +'Mr Rollin!' I said. + +Yes siree,' said he, pausing in the midst of his chorus to look up at +me. + +'Where can I get a piece of yellow pine?' + +'See 'n a minute,' he said. Then he continued his sawing and his +song, ' "Says I Dan Skinner, I thank yer mighty mean" - what d' +ye want it fer?' he asked stopping abruptly. + +'Going to make a ruler,' I answered. + +'"T' sen' me up the river with a seven dollar team,"' he went on, +picking out a piece of smooth planed lumber, and handing it to me. + +'How much is it worth?' I enquired. + +He whistled a moment as he surveyed it carefully. + +''Bout one cent,' he answered seriously. + +I handed him the money and sat down awhile to watch him as he +went on with his work. It was the cheapest amusement I have yet +enjoyed. Indeed Sol Rollin became a dissipation, a subtle and +seductive habit that grew upon me and on one pretext or another I +went every Saturday to the shop if I had not gone home. + +'What ye goin' t' be?' + +He stopped his saw, and looked at me, waiting for my answer. + +At last the time had come when I must declare myself and I did. + +'A journalist,' I replied. + +'What's that?' he enquired curiously. + +'An editor,' I said. + +'A printer man?' + +'A printer man.' + +'Huh!' said he. 'Mebbe I'll give ye a job. Sairey tol' me I'd orter t' +'ave some cards printed. I'll want good plain print: Solomon Rollin, +Cappenter 'n J'iner, Hillsborough, NY - soun's putty good don't it.' + +'Beautiful,' I answered. + +'I'll git a big lot on 'em,' he said. 'I'll want one for Sister Susan 'at's +out in Minnesoty - no, I guess I'll send 'er tew, so she can give one +away - an' one fer my brother, Eliphalet, an' one apiece fer my +three cousins over 'n Vermont, an' one fer my Aunt Mirandy. Le's +see-tew an' one is three an' three is six an' one is seven. Then I'll git +a few struck off fer the folks here - guess they'll thank I'm gittin' up +'n the world.' + +He shook and snickered with anticipation of the glory of it. Pure +vanity inspired him in the matter and it had in it no vulgar +consideration of business policy. He whistled a lively tune as he +bent to his work again. + +'Yer sister says ye're a splendid scholar!' said he. 'Hear'n 'er braggin' +'bout ye t'other night; she thinks a good deal o' her brother, I can +tell ye. Guess I know what she's gain' t' give ye Crissmus.' + +'What's that?' I asked, with a curiosity more youthful than becoming. + +'Don't ye never let on,' said he. + +'Never,' said I. + +'Hear'n 'em tell,' he said,' 'twas a gol' lockup, with 'er pictur' in it' + +'Oh, a locket!' I exclaimed. + +'That's it,' he replied, 'an' pure gol', too.' + +I turned to go. + +'Hope she'll grow up a savin' woman,' he remarked. ''Fraid she +won't never be very good t' worlt.' + +'Why not?' I enquired. + +'Han's are too little an' white,' he answered. + +'She won't have to,' I said. + +He cackled uproariously for a moment, then grew serious. + +'Her father's rich,' he said, 'the richest man o' Faraway, an I guess +she won't never hev anything t' dew but set'n sing an' play the +melodium.' + +'She can do as she likes,' I said. + +He stood a moment looking down as if meditating on the delights +he had pictured. + +'Gol!' he exclaimed suddenly. + +My subject had begun to study me, and I came away to escape +further examination. + + + +Chapter 18 + +I ought to say that I have had and shall have to chronicle herein +much that would seem to indicate a mighty conceit of myself. +Unfortunately the little word 'I' throws a big shadow in this history. +It looms up all too frequently in every page for the sign of a modest +man. But, indeed, I cannot help it, for he was the only observer of +all there is to tell. Now there is much, for example, in the very +marrow of my history - things that never would have happened, +things that never would have been said, but for my fame as a +scholar. My learning was of small account, for, it must be +remembered, I am writing of a time when any degree of +scholarship was counted remarkable among the simple folk of +Faraway. + +Hope took singing lessons and sang in church every Sunday. David +or Uncle Eb came down for us often of a Saturday and brought us +back before service in the morning. One may find in that town +today many who will love to tell him of the voice and beauty and +sweetness of Hope Brower those days, and of what they expected +regarding her and me. We went out a good deal evenings to +concerts, lectures at the churches or the college, or to visit some of +the many people who invited us to their homes. + +We had a recess of two weeks at the winter holidays and David +Brower came after us the day the term ended. O, the great +happiness of that day before Christmas when we came flying home +in the sleigh behind a new team of greys and felt the intoxication +of the frosty air, and drove in at dusk after the lamps were lit and +we could see mother and Uncle Eb and Grandma Bisnette looking +out of the window, and a steaming dinner on the table! I declare! it +is long since then, but I cannot ever think of that time without +wiping my glasses and taking a moment off Tip Taylor took the +horses and we all came in where the kettle was singing on the +stove and loving hands helped us out of our wraps. The supper was +a merry feast, the like of which one may find only by returning to +his boyhood. Mack! that is a long journey for some of us. + +Supper over and the dishes out of the way we gathered about the +stove with cider and butternuts. + +'Well,' said Hope, 'I've got some news to tell you - this boy is the +best scholar of his age in this county.' + +'Thet so?' said David. + +Uncle Eb stopped his hmnmer that was lifted to crack a butternut +and pulled his chair close to Hope's. Elizabeth looked at her +daughter and then at me, a smile and a protest in her face. + +'True as you live,' said Hope. 'The master told me so. He's first in +everything, and in the Town Hall the other night he spelt +everybody down.' + +'What! In Hillsborough?' Uncle Eb asked incredulously. + +'Yes, in Hillsborough,' said Hope, 'and there were doctors and +lawyers and college students and I don't know who all in the +match.' + +'Most reemarkable!' said David Brower. + +'Treemenjious!' exclaimed Uncle Eb. + +'I heard about it over at the mills t'day,' said Tip Taylor. + +'Merd Dieu!' exclaimed Grandma Bisnette, crossing herself. + +Elizabeth Brower was unable to stem this tide of enthusiasm. I had +tried to stop it, but, instantly, it had gone beyond my control. If I +could be hurt by praise the mischief had been done. + +'It's very nice, indeed,' said she soberly. 'I do hope it won't make +him conceited. He should remember that people do not always +mean what they say.' + +'He's too sensible for that, mother,' said David. + +'Shucks!' said Uncle Eb, 'he ain' no fool if he is a good speller - not +by a dum sight!' + +'Tip,' said David, 'you'll find a box in the sleigh 'at come by +express. I wish ye'd go'n git it.' + +We all stood looking while Tip brought it in and pried off the top +boards with a hatchet. + +'Careful, now!' Uncle Eb cautioned him. 'Might spile sumthin'.' + +The top off, Uncle Eb removed a layer of pasteboard. Then he +pulled out a lot of coloured tissue paper, and under that was a +package, wrapped and tied. Something was written on it. He held it +up and tried to read the writing. + +'Can't see without my spectacles,' he said, handing it to me. + +'For Hope,' I read, as I passed it to her. + +'Hooray!' said Uncle Eb, as he lifted another, and the last package, +from the box. + +'For Mrs Brower,' were the words I read upon that one. + +The strings were cut, the wrappers torn away, and two big rolls of +shiny silk loosened their coils on the table. Hope uttered a cry of +delight. A murmur of surprise and admiration passed from one to +another. Elizabeth lifted a rustling fold and held it to the lamplight +We passed our hands over the smooth sheen of the silk. + +'Wall, I swan!' said Uncle Eb. 'Jes' like a kitten's ear!' + +'Eggzac'ly!' said David Brower. + +Elizabeth lifted the silk and let it flow to her feet Then for a little +she looked down, draping it to her skirt and moving her foot to +make the silk rustle. For the moment she was young again. + +'David,' she said, still looking at the glory of glossy black that +covered her plain dress. + +'Well, mother,' he answered. + +'Was you fool enough t' go'n buy this stuff fer me?' + +'No, mother - it come from New York City,' he said. + +'From New York City?' was the exclamation of all. + +Elizabeth Brower looked thoughtfullyy at her husband. + +'Clear from New York City?' she repeated. + +'From New York City,' said he. + +'Wall, of all things!' said Uncle Eb, looking over his spectacles +from one to another. + +'It's from the Livingstone boy,' said Mrs Brower. 'I've heard he's the +son of a rich man.' + +''Fraid he took a great fancy t' Hope,' said David. + +'Father,' said the girl, you've no right to say that. I'm sure he never +cared a straw for me.' + +'I don't think we ought to keep it,' said Mrs Brower, looking up +thoughtfullyy. + +'Shucks and shavin's!' said Uncle Eb. 'Ye don't know but what I had +it sent myself.' + +Hope went over and put her arms around his neck. + +'Did you, Uncle Eb?' she asked. 'Now you tell me the truth, Uncle +Eb.' + +'Wouldn't say 't I did,' he answered, 'but I don' want 'a see ye go +sendin' uv it back. Ye dunno who sent it.' + +'What'll I do with it?' Mrs Brower asked, laughing in a way that +showed a sense of absurdity. 'I'd a been tickled with it thirty years +ago, but now-folks 'ud think I was crazy.' + +'Never heard such fol de rol,' said Uncle Eb. 'If ye move t' the +village it'll come handy t' go t' meetin' in.' + +That seemed to be unanswerable and conclusive, at least for the +time being, and the silk was laid away. We sat talking until late +bedtime, Hope and I, telling of our studies and of the many people +we had met in Hillsborough. + +We hung up our stockings just as we had always done Christmas +Eve, and were up betimes in the morning to find them filled with +many simple but delightful things, and one which I treasure to this +day - the locket and its picrure of which I had been surreptitiously +informed. + +At two o'clock we had a fine dinner of roast turkey and chicken +pie, with plenty of good cider, and the mince pie, of blessed +memory, such as only a daughter of New England may dare try to +make. + +Uncle Eb went upstairs after dinner and presently we heard him +descending with a slow and heavy foot I opened the stair door and +there he stood with the old bass viol that had long lain neglected in +a dusty corner of the attic. Many a night I had heard it groan as the +strings loosened, in the years it had lain on its hack, helpless and +forgotten. It was like a dreamer, snoring in his sleep, and +murmuring of that he saw in his dreams. Uncle Eb had dusted and +strung it and glued its weaker joints. He sat down with it' the +severe look of old upon his face, and set the strings roaring as he +tuned them. Then he brought the sacred treasure to me and leaned +it against my shoulder. + +'There that's a Crissmus present fer ye, Willie,' said he. 'It may help +ye t' pass away the time once in a while.' + +I thanked him warmly. + +''S a reel firs'-class instrument,' he said. 'Been a rip snorter 'n its +day.' He took from his bosom then the old heart pin of silver that +he had always worn of a Sunday. + +'Goin' t' give ye thet, too,' he said. 'Dunno's ye'll ever care to wear +it, but I want ye should hev sumthin' ye can carry'n yer pocket t' +remember me by.' + +I did not dare trust myself to speak, and I sat helplessly turning that +relic of a better day in my fingers. + +'It's genuwine silver,' said he proudly. + +I took his old hand in mine and raised it reverently to my lips. + +'Hear'n 'em tell 'bout goin' t' the village, an' I says t' myself, "Uncle +Eb," says I, "we'll hev t' be goin'. 'Tain' no place fer you in the +village."' + +'Holden,' said David Brower, 'don't ye never talk like that ag'in. Yer +just the same as married t' this family, an' ye can't ever git away +from us.' + +And he never did until his help was needed in other and fairer +fields, I am sure, than those of Faraway - God knows where. + + + +Chapter 19 + +Tip Taylor was, in the main, a serious-minded man. A cross eye +enhanced the natural solemnity of his countenance. He was little +given to talk or laughter unless he were on a hunt, and then he only +whispered his joy. He had seen a good bit of the world through the +peek sight of his rifle, and there was something always in the feel +of a gun that lifted him to higher moods. And yet one could reach a +tender spot in him without the aid of a gun. That winter vacation I +set myself to study things for declamation - specimens of the +eloquence of Daniel Webster and Henry Clay and James Otis and +Patrick Henry. I practiced them in the barn, often, in sight and +hearing of the assembled herd and some of those fiery passages +were rather too loud and threatening for the peace and comfort of +my audience. The oxen seemed always to be expecting the sting of +the bull whip; they stared at me timidly, tilting their ears every +moment, as if to empty them of a heavy load; while the horses +snorted with apprehension. This haranguing of the herd had been +going on a week or more when Uncle Eb and I, returning from a +distant part of the farm, heard a great uproar in the stable. Looking +in at a window we saw Tip Taylor, his back toward us, +extemporising a speech. He was pressing his argument with +gestures and the tone of thunder. We listened a moment, while a +worried look came over the face of Uncle Eb. Tip's words were +meaningless save for the secret aspiration they served to advertise. +My old companion thought Tip had gone crary, and immediately +swung the door and stepped in. The orator fell suddenly from his +lofry altitude and became a very sober looking hired man. + +'What's the matter?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Practicin',' said Tip soberly, as he turned slowly, his face damp +and red with exertion. + +'Fer what?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'Fer the 'sylum, I guess,' he answered, with a faint smile. + +'Ye don' need no more practice,' Uncle Eb answered. 'Looks t' me +as though ye was purty well prepared.' + +To me there was a touch of pathos in this show of the deeper +things in Tip's nature that had been kindled to eruption by my +spouting. He would not come in to dinner that day, probably from +an unfounded fear that we would make fun of his flight - a thing +we should have been far from doing once we understood him. + +It was a bitter day of one of the coldest winters we had ever +known. A shrieking wind came over the hills, driving a scud of +snow before it The stock in the stables, we all came in, soon after +dinner, and sat comfortably by the fire with cider, checkers and old +sledge. The dismal roar of the trees and the wind-wail in the +chimney served only to increase our pleasure. It was growing dusk +when mother, peering through the sheath of frost on a window +pane, uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +'Why! who is this at the door?' said she. 'Why! It's a man in a +cutter.' Father was near the door and he swung it open quickly. +There stood a horse and cutter, a man sitting in it, heavily muffled. +The horse was shivering and the man sat motionless. + +'Hello!' said David Brower in a loud voice. + +He got no answer and ran bareheaded to the sleigh. + +'Come, quick, Holden,' he called, 'it's Doctor Bigsby.' + +We all ran out then, while David lifted the still figure in his arms. + +'In here, quick!' said Elizabeth, opening the door to the parlour. +'Musn't take 'im near the stove.' + +We carried him into the cold room and laid him down, and David +and I tore his wraps open while the others ran quickly after snow. + +I rubbed it vigorously upon his face and ears, the others meantime +applying it to his feet and arms, that had been quickly stripped. +The doctor stared at us curiously and tried to speak. + +'Get ap, Dobbin!' he called presently, and ducked as if urging his +horse. 'Get ap, Dobbin! Man'll die 'fore ever we git there.' + +We all worked upon him with might and main. The white went +slowly out of his face. We lifted him to a sitting posture. Mother +and Hope and Uncle Eb were rubbing his hands and feet. + +'Where am I?' he enquired, his face now badly swollen. + +'At David Brower's,' said I. + +'Huh?' he asked, with that kindly and familiar grunt of +interrogation. + +'At David Brower's,' I repeated. + +'Well, I'll have t' hurry,' said he, trying feebly to rise. 'Man's dyin' +over - ' he hesitated thoughtfully, 'on the Plains,' he added, looking +around at us. + +Grandma Bisnette brought a lamp and held it so the light fell on his +face. He looked from one to another. He drew one of his hands +away and stared at it. + +'Somebody froze?' he asked. + +'Yes,' said I. + +'Hm! Too bad. How'd it happen?' he asked. 'I don't know.' + +'How's the pulse?' he enquired, feeling for my wrist. + +I let him hold it in his hand. + +'Will you bring me some water in a glass?' he enquired, turning to +Mrs Brower, just as I had seen him do many a time in Gerald's +illness. Before she came with the water his head fell forward upon +his breast, while he muttered feebly. I thought then he was dead, +but presently he roused himself with a mighty effort. + +'David Brower!' he called loudly, and trying hard to rise, 'bring the +horse! bring the horse! Mus' be goin', I tell ye. Man's dyin' over - on +the Plains.' + +He went limp as a rag then. I could feel his heart leap and struggle +feebly. + +'There's a man dyin' here,' said David Brower, in a low tone. 'Ye +needn't rub no more. + +'He's dead,' Elizabeth whispered, holding his hand tenderly, and +looking into his half-closed eyes. Then for a moment she covered +her own with her handkerchief, while David, in a low, calm tone, +that showed the depth of his feeling, told us what to do. + +Uncle Eb and I watched that night, while Tip Taylor drove away to +town. The body lay in the parlour and we sat by the stove in the +room adjoining. In a half-whisper we talked of the sad event of the +day. + +'Never oughter gone out a day like this,' said Uncle Eb. 'Don' take +much t' freeze an ol' man.' + +'Got to thinking of what happened yesterday and forgot the cold,' I +said. + +'Bad day t' be absent-minded,' whispered Uncle Eb, as he rose and +tiptoed to the window and peered through the frosty panes. 'May o' +got faint er sumthin'. Ol' hoss brought 'im right here - been here s' +often with 'in'.' + +He took the lantern and went out a moment. The door creaked +upon its frosty hinges when he opened it. + +'Thirty below zero,' he whispered as he came in. 'Win's gone down +a leetle bit, mebbe.' + +Uncanny noises broke in upon the stillness of the old house. Its +timbers, racked in the mighty grip of the cold, creaked and settled. +Sometimes there came a sharp, breaking sound, like the crack of +bones. + +'If any man oughter go t' Heaven, he had,' said Uncle Eb, as he +drew on his boots. + +'Think he's in Heaven?' I asked. + +'Hain't a doubt uv it,' said he, as he chewed a moment, preparing +for expectoration. + +'What kind of a place do you think it is?' I asked. + +'Fer one thing,' he said, deliberately, 'nobody'll die there, 'less he'd +ought to; don't believe there's goin' t' be any need o' swearin' er +quarrellin'. To my way o' thinkin' it'll be a good deal like Dave +Brower's farm - nice, smooth land and no stun on it, an' hills an' +valleys an' white clover aplenty, an' wheat an' corn higher'n a man's +head. No bull thistles, no hard winters, no narrer contracted fools; +no long faces, an' plenty o' work. Folks sayin' "How d'y do" 'stid o' +"goodbye", all the while - comin' 'stid o' gain'. There's goin' t' be +some kind o' fun there. I ain' no idee what 'tis. Folks like it an' I +kind o' believe 'at when God's gin a thing t' everybody he thinks +purty middlin' well uv it.' + +'Anyhow, it seems a hard thing to die,' I remarked. + +'Seems so,' he said thoughtfully. 'Jes' like ever'thing else - them 'at +knows much about it don' have a great deal t' say. Looks t' me like +this: I cal'ate a man hes on the everidge ten things his heart is sot +on - what is the word I want - ?' + +'Treasures?' I suggested. + +'Thet's it,' said he. 'Ev'ry one hes about ten treasures. Some hev +more - some less. Say one's his strength, one's his plan, the rest is +them he loves, an' the more he loves the better 'tis fer him. Wall, +they begin t' go one by one. Some die, some turn agin' him. Fin's it +hard t' keep his allowance. When he's only nine he's lost eggzac'ly +one-tenth uv his dread o' dyin'. Bime bye he counts up - +one-two-three-four-five-an' thet's all ther is left. He figgers it up +careful. His strength is gone, his plan's a fillure, mebbe, an' this +one's dead an' thet one's dead, an' t'other one better be. Then 's +'bout half-ways with him. If he lives till the ten treasures is all +gone, God gives him one more - thet's death. An' he can swop thet +off an' git back all he's lost. Then he begins t' think it's a purty dum +good thing, after all. Purty good thing, after all,' he repeated, +gaping as he spoke. + +He began nodding shortly, and soon he went asleep in his chair. + + + +Chapter 20 + +We went back to our work again shortly, the sweetness and the +bitterness of life fresh in our remembrance. When we came back, +'hook an' line', for another vacation, the fields were aglow with +colour, and the roads where Dr Bigsby had felt the sting of death +that winter day were now over drifted with meadow-music and the +smell of clover. I had creditably taken examination for college, +where I was to begin my course in the fall, with a scholarship. +Hope had made remarkable progress in music and was soon going +to Ogdensburg for instruction. + +A year had gone, nearly, since Jed Feary had cautioned me about +falling in love. I had kept enough of my heart about me 'to do +business with', but I had continued to feel an uncomfortable +absence in the region of it. Young men at Hillsborough - many of +whom, I felt sure, had a smarter look than I - had bid stubbornly +for her favour. I wondered, often, it did not turn her head - this +tribute of rustic admiration. But she seemed to be all unconscious +of its cause and went about her work with small conceit of herself. +Many a time they had tried to take her from my arm at the church +door - a good-natured phase of youthful rivalry there in those days +- but she had always said, laughingly, 'No, thank you,' and clung all +the closer to me. Now Jed Feary had no knowledge of the worry it +gave me, or of the peril it suggested. I knew that, if I felt free to tell +him all, he would give me other counsel. I was now seventeen and +she a bit older, and had I not heard of many young men and +women who had been engaged - aye, even married - at that age? +Well, as it happened, a day before she left us, to go to her work in +Ogdensburg, where she was to live with her uncle, I made an end +of delay. I considered carefully what a man ought to say in the +circumstances, and I thought I had near an accurate notion. We +were in the garden - together - the playground of our childhood. + +'Hope, I have a secret to tell you,' I said. + +'A secret,' she exclaimed eagerly. 'I love secrets.' + +'A great secret,' I repeated, as I felt my face burning. + +'Why - it must be something awful!' + +'Not very,' I stammered. Having missed my cue from the +beginning, I was now utterly confused. + +'William!' she exclaimed, 'what is the matter of you.' + +'I - I am in love,' said I, very awkwardly. + +'Is that all?' she answered, a trace of humour in her tone. 'I thought +it was bad news.' + +I stooped to pick a rose and handed it to her. + +'Well,' she remarked soberly, but smiling a little, as she lifted the +rose to her lips, 'is it anyone I know?' + +I felt it was going badly with me, but caught a sudden inspiration. + +'You have never seen her,' I said. + +If she had suspected the truth I had turned the tables on her, and +now she was guessing. A quick change came into her face, and, for +a moment, it gave me confidence. + +'Is she pretty?' she asked very seriously as she dropped the flower +and looked down crushing it beneath her foot. + +'She is very beautiful - it is you I love, Hope.' + +A flood of colour came into her cheeks then, as she stood a +moment looking down at the flower in silence. + +'I shall keep your secret,' she said tenderly, and hesitating as she +spoke, 'and when you are through college - and you are older - and +I am older - and you love me as you do now - I hope - I shall love +you, too - as - I do now.' + +Her lips were trembling as she gave me that sweet assurance - +dearer to me - far dearer than all else I remember of that golden +time - and tears were coursing down her cheeks. For myself I was +in a worse plight of emotion. I dare say she remembered also the +look of my face in that moment. + +'Do not speak of it again,' she said, as we walked away together +on the shorn sod of the orchard meadow, now sown with apple +blossoms, 'until we are older, and, if you never speak again, I shall +know you - you do not love me any longer.' + +The dinner horn sounded. We turned and walked slowly back + +'Do I look all right?' she asked, turning her face to me and smiling +sweetly. + +'All right,' I said. 'Nobody would know that anyone loved you - +except for your beauty and that one tear track on your cheek.' + +She wiped it away as she laughed. + +'Mother knows anyway,' she said, 'and she has given me good +advice. Wait!' she added, stopping and turning to me. 'Your eyes +are wet!' + +I felt for my handkerchief. + +'Take mine,' she said. + +Elder Whitmarsh was at the house and they were all sitting down to +dinner as we came in. + +'Hello!' said Uncle Eb. 'Here's a good-lookin' couple. We've got a +chicken pie an' a Baptis' minister fer dinner an' both good. Take +yer pew nex' t' the minister,' he added as he held the chair for me. + +Then we all bowed our heads and I felt a hearty amen for the +elder's words: + +'O Lord, may all our doing and saying and eating and drinking of +this day be done, as in Thy sight, for our eternal happiness - and +for Thy glory. Amen.' + + + +Chapter 21 + +We have our secrets, but, guard them as we may, it is not long +before others have them also. We do much talking without words. I +once knew a man who did his drinking secretly and his reeling in +public, and thought he was fooling everybody. That shows how +much easier it is for one to fool himself than to fool another. What +is in a man's heart is on his face, and is shortly written all over +him. Therein is a mighty lesson. + +Of all people I ever knew Elizabeth Brower had the surest eye for +looking into one's soul, and I, myself, have some gift of +penetration. I knew shortly that Mrs Brower - wise and prudent +woman that she was - had suspected my love for Hope and her +love for me, and had told her what she ought to say if I spoke of it. + +The maturity of judgement in Hope's answer must have been the +result of much thought and counsel, it seemed to me. + +'If you do not speak again I shall know you do not love me any +longer,' she had said. They were brave words that stood for +something very deep in the character of those people - a +self-repression that was sublime, often, in their women. As I said +them to myself, those lonely summer days in Faraway, I saw in +their sweet significance no hint of the bitterness they were to +bring. But God knows I have had my share of pleasure and no +more bitterness than I deserved. + +It was a lonely summer for me. I had letters from Hope - ten of +them - which I still keep and read, often with something of the old +pleasure - girlish letters that told of her work and friends, and gave +me some sweet counsel and much assurance between the lines. + +I travelled in new roads that vacation time. Politics and religion, as +well as love, began to interest me. Slavery was looming into the +proportion of a great issue, and the stories of cruelty and outrage +on the plantations of the South stirred my young blood and made it +ready for the letting of battle, in God's time. The speeches in the +Senate were read aloud in our sitting-room after supper - the day +the Tribune came - and all lent a tongue to their discussion. +Jed Feary was with us one evening, I remember, when our talk +turned into long ways, the end of which I have never found to this +day. Elizabeth had been reading of a slave, who, according to the +paper, had been whipped to death. + +'If God knows 'at such things are bein' done, why don't he stop +'em?' David asked. + +'Can't very well,' said Jed Feary. + +'Can, if he's omnipotent,' said David. + +'That's a bad word - a dangerous one,' said the old poet, dropping +his dialect as he spoke. 'It makes God responsible for evil as well +as good. The word carries us beyond our depth. It's too big for our +boots. I'd ruther think He can do what's doable an' know what's +knowable. In the beginning he gave laws to the world an' these +laws are unchangeable, or they are not wise an' perfect. If God +were to change them He would thereby acknowledge their +imperfection. By this law men and races suffer as they struggle +upward. But if the law is unchangeable, can it be changed for a +better cause even than the relief of a whipped slave? In good time. +the law shall punish and relieve. The groans of them that suffer +shall hasten it, but there shall be no change in the law. There can +be no change in the law.' + +'Leetle hard t' tell jest how powerful God is,' said Uncle Eb. 'Good +deal like tryin' t' weigh Lake Champlain with a quart pail and a +pair o' steelyards.' + +'If God's laws are unchangeable, what is the use of praying?' I +asked. + +'He can give us the strength to bear, the will to obey him an' light +to guide us,' said the poet. 'I've written out a few lines t' read t' Bill +here 'fore he goes off t' college. They have sumthin' t' say on this +subject. The poem hints at things he'd ought 'o learn purty soon - if +he don't know 'em now.' + +The old poet felt in his pockets as he spoke, and withdrew a folded +sheet of straw-coloured wrapping paper and opened it. I was 'Bill' +-plain 'Bill' - to everybody in that country, where, as you increased +your love of a man, you diminished his name. I had been called +Willie, William and Billy, and finally, when I threw the strong +man of the township in a wrestling match they gave me this fail +token of confidence. I bent over the shoulder of Jed Feary for a +view of the manuscript, closely written with a lead pencil, and +marked with many erasures. + +'Le's hear it,' said David Brower. + +Then I moved the lamp to his elbow and he began reading: + +'A talk with William Brower on the occasion of his going +away to college and writ out in rhyme for him by his friend +Jedediah Feary to be a token of respect. + + The man that loses faith in God, ye'll find out every time, + Has found a faith in his own self that's mighty nigh sublime. + He knows as much as all the saints an' calls religion flighty, + An' in his narrow world assumes the place o' God Almighty. + + But don't expect too much o' God, it wouldn't be quite fair + If fer everything ye wanted ye could only swap a prayer; + I'd pray fer yours an' you fer mine an' Deacon Henry Hospur + He wouldn't hev a thing t' do but lay a-bed an' prosper. + + If all things come so easy, Bill, they'd hev but little worth, + An' someone with a gift O' prayer 'ud mebbe own the earth. + It's the toil ye give t' git a thing - the sweat an' blood an' trouble + We reckon by - an' every tear'll make its value double. + + There's a money O' the soul, my boy, ye'll find in after years, + Its pennies are the sweat drops an' its dollars are the tears; + An' love is the redeemin' gold that measures what they're worth, + An' ye'll git as much in Heaven as ye've given out on earth. + + Fer the record o' yer doin' - I believe the soul is planned + With an automatic register t, tell jest how ye stand, + An' it won't take any cipherin' t' show that fearful day, + If ye've multiplied yer talents well, er thrown 'em all away. + + When yer feet are on the summit, an' the wide horizon clears, + An' ye look back on yer pathway windin' thro' the vale o' tears; + When ye see how much ye've trespassed an' how fur ye've gone astray, + Ye'll know the way o' Providence ain't apt t' be your way. + + God knows as much as can be known, but I don't think it's true + He knows of all the dangers in the path o' me an' you. + If I shet my eyes an' hurl a stone that kills the King o' Siam, + The chances are that God'll be as much surprised as I am. + + If ye pray with faith believin', why, ye'll certnly receive, + But that God does what's impossible is more than I'll believe. + If it grieves Him when a sparrow falls, it's sure as anything, + He'd hev turned the arrow if He could, that broke the sparrow's wing. + + Ye can read old Nature's history thet's writ in rocks an' stones, + Ye can see her throbbin' vitals an' her mighty rack o' hones. + But the soul o' her - the livin' God, a little child may know + No lens er rule o' cipherin' can ever hope t' show. + + There's a part o' Cod's creation very handy t' yer view, + Al' the truth o' life is in it an' remember, Bill, it's you. + An' after all yer science ye must look up in yer mind, + An' learn its own astronomy the star o' peace t' find. + + There's good old Aunt Samanthy Jane thet all her journey long + Has led her heart to labour with a reveille of song. + Her folks hev robbed an' left her but her faith in goodness grows, + She hasn't any larnin', but I tell ye Bill, she knows! + + She's hed her share o' troubles; I remember well the day + We took her t' the poorhouse - she was singin' all the way; + Ye needn't be afraid t' come where stormy Jordan flows, + If all the larnin' ye can git has taught ye halfshe knows.' + +I give this crude example of rustic philosophy, not because it has +my endorsement - God knows I have ever felt it far beyond me - +but because it is useful to those who may care to know the man +who wrote it. I give it the poor fame of these pages with keen +regret that my friend is now long passed the praise or blame of this +world. + + + +Chapter 22 + +The horse played a part of no small importance in that country. He +was the coin of the realm, a medium of exchange, a standard of +value, an exponent of moral character. The man that travelled +without a horse was on his way to the poorhouse. Uncle Eb or +David Brower could tell a good horse by the sound of his +footsteps, and they brought into St Lawrence County the haughty +Morgans from Vermont. There was more pride in their high heads +than in any of the good people. A Northern Yankee who was not +carried away with a fine horse had excellent self-control. Politics +and the steed were the only things that ever woke him to +enthusiasm, and there a man was known as he traded. Uncle Eb +used to say that one ought always to underestimate his horse 'a +leetle fer the sake of a reputation'. + +We needed another horse to help with the haying, and Bob Dean, a +tricky trader, who had heard of it, drove in after supper one +evening, and offered a rangy brown animal at a low figure. We +looked him over, tried him up and down the road, and then David, +with some shrewd suspicion, as I divined later, said I could do as I +pleased. I bought the horse and led him proudly to the stable. Next +morning an Irishman, the extra man for the haying, came in with a +worried look to breakfast. + +'That new horse has a chittern' kind of a coff,' he said. + +'A cough?' said I. + +''Tain't jist a coff, nayther,' he said, 'but a kind of toom!' + +With the last word he obligingly imitated the sound of the cough. +It threw me into perspiration. + +'Sounds bad,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked at me and snickered. + +''Fraid Bill ain't much of a jockey,' said David, smiling. + +'Got a grand appetite - that hoss has,' said Tip Taylor. + +After breakfast Uncle Eb and I hitched him to the light buggy and +touched him up for a short journey down the road. In five minutes +he had begun to heave and whistle. I felt sure one could have heard +him half a mile away. Uncle Eb stopped him and began to laugh. + +'A whistler,' said he, 'sure's yer born. He ain't wuth a bag o' beans. +But don't ye never let on. When ye git licked ye musn't never fin' +fault. If anybody asks ye 'bout him tell 'em he's all ye expected.' + +We stood waiting a moment for the horse to recover himself. A +team was nearing us. + +'There's Bob Dean,' Uncle Eb whispered. 'The durn scalawag! +Don't ye say a word now. + +'Good-mornin'!' said Dean, smiling as he pulled up beside us. + +'Nice pleasant mornin'!' said Uncle Eb, as he cast a glance into the +sky. + +'What ye standin' here for?' Dean asked. + +Uncle Eb expectorated thoughtfullyy. + +'Jest a lookin' at the scenery,' said he. 'Purty country, right here! +AIwus liked it.' + +'Nice lookin' hoss ye got there,' said Dean. + +'Grand hoss!' said Uncle Eb, surveying him proudly. 'Most +reemarkable hoss.' + +'Good stepper, too,' said Dean soberly. + +'Splendid!' said Uncle Eb. 'Can go a mile without ketchin' his +breath.' + +'Thet so?' said Dean. + +'Good deal like Lucy Purvis,' Uncle Eb added. 'She can say the hull +mul'plication table an' only breathe once. Ye can learn sumthin' +from a hoss like thet. He's good as a deestric' school - thet hoss is.' + +Yes, sir, thet hoss is all right,' said Dean, as he drove away. + +'Righter'n I expected,' Uncle Eb shouted, and then he covered his +mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter. + +'Skunk!' he said, as we turned the animal and started to walk him +home. 'Don't min' bein' beat, but I don't like t' hev a man rub it in +on me. I'll git even with him mebbe.' + +And he did. It came about in this way. We turned our new +purchase into the pasture, and Uncle Eb and I drove away to +Potsdam for a better nag. We examined all the horses in that part +of the country. At last we chanced upon one that looked like the +whistler, save that he had a white stocking on one hind foot. + +'Same age, too,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked into his mouth. + +'Can pass anything on the road,' said his owner. + +'Can he?' said Uncle Eb, who had no taste for slow going. 'Hitch +him up an' le's see what he can do.' + +He carried us faster than we had ever ridden before at a trot, and +coming up behind another team the man pulled out, let the reins +loose on his back, and whistled. If anyone had hit him with a log +chain the horse could not have moved quicker. He took us by the +other team like a flash, on the dead run and three in the buggy. + +'He'll do all right,' said Uncle Eb, and paid for the horse. + +It was long after dark when we started home, leading him behind, +and near midnight when we arrived. + +In the morning I found Uncle Eb in the stable showing him to the +other help. To my surprise the white stocking had disappeared. + +'Didn't jes' like that white stockin',' he said, as I came in. +'Wondered how he'd look without it.' + +They all agreed this horse and the whistler were as much alike as +two peas in appearance. Breakfast over Uncle Eb asked the +Irishman to hitch him up. + +'Come Bill,' said he, 'le's take a ride. Dean'll be comm' 'long bym +bye on his way t' town with that trotter o' his'n. 'Druther like to +meet him.' + +I had only a faint idea of his purpose. He let the horse step along at +top speed going up the road and when we turned about he was +breathing heavily. We jogged him back down the road a mile or so, +and when I saw the blazed face of Dean's mare, in the distance, we +pulled up and shortly stopped him. Dean came along in a moment. + +'Nice mornin'!' said he. + +'Grand!' said Uncle Eb. + +'Lookin' at the lan'scape ag'in?' + +'Yes; I've jes' begun t' see what a putty country this is,' said Uncle +Eb. + +'How's the boss?' + +'Splendid! Gives ye time t' think an' see what yer passin'. Like t' set +'n think once in a while. We don't do enough thinkin' here in this +part o' the country.' + +'Yd orter buy this mare an learn how t' ride fast,' said Dean. + +'Thet one,' said Uncle Eb, squinting at the mare, 'why she can't go +fast 'nough.' + +'She can't, hey?' said Dean, bridling with injured pride. 'I don't +think there's anything in this town can head her.' + +'Thunder!' said Uncle Eb, 'I can go by her with this ol' plug easy +'twixt here an' our gate. Ye didn't know what ye was sellin'.' + +'If ye pass her once I'll give her to ye,' said he. + +'Mean it?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Sartin,' said he, a little redder in the face. + +'An' if I don't I'll give ye the whistler,' said Uncle Eb as he turned +about. + +The mare went away, under the whip, before we had fairly started. +She was going a fifty shot but in a moment we were lapping upon +her hind wheel. Dean threw a startled glance over his shoulder. +Then he shouted to the mare. She quickened her pace a little but +we kept our position. Uncle Eb was leaning over the dasher his +white locks flying. He had something up his sleeve, as they say, +and was not yet ready to use it. Then Dean began to shear over to +cut us off- a nasty trick of the low horseman. I saw Uncle Eb +glance at the ditch ahead. I knew what was coining and took a firm +hold of the seat. The ditch was a bit rough, but Uncle Eb had no +lack of courage. He turned the horse's head, let up on the reins and +whistled. I have never felt such a thrill as then. Our horse leaped +into the deep grass running like a wild deer. + +'Hi there! hi there!' Uncle Eb shouted, bouncing in his seat, as we +went over stones and hummocks going like the wind. + +'Go, ye brown devil!' he yelled, his hat flying off as he shook the +reins. + +The mare lost her stride; we flashed by and came up into the road. +Looking back I saw her jumping up and down a long way behind +us and Dean whipping her. Uncle Eb, his hands over the dasher, +had pulled down to a trot Ahead of us we could see our folks - men +and women - at the gate looking down the road at us waving hats +and handkerchiefs. They had heard the noise of the battle. Uncle +Eb let up on the reins and looked back snorting with amusement. +In a moment we pulled up at our gate. Dean came along slowly. + +'Thet's a putty good mare,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Yer welcome to her,' said Dean sullenly. + +'Wouldn't hev her,' said Uncle Eb. + +'Why not?' said the trader a look of relief coming over his face. + +'Can't go fast enough for my use,' Uncle Eb answered. 'Ye can jest +hitch her in here awhile an' the first day ye come over with a +hundred dollars ye can hev her 'n the whistler, both on 'em. Thet +whistler's a grand hoss! Can hold his breath longer'n any hoss I +ever knew!' + +The sum named was that we had paid him for the highly +accomplished animal. Dean had the manhood to pay up then and +there and said he would send for the other horse, which he never +did. + +'Guess he won't bother us any more when we stop t' look at the +scenery,' said Uncle Eb, laughing as Dean drove away. 'Kind o' +resky business buyin' hosses,' he added. 'Got t' jedge the owner as +well as the hoss. If there's anything the matter with his conscience +it'll come out in the hoss somewhere every time. Never knew a +mean man t' own a good hoss. Remember, boy, 's a lame soul thet +drives a limpin' hoss.' + +'No use talkin'; Bill ain' no jedge uv a hoss' said David Brower. +'He'll hev t' hev an education er he'll git t' the poorhouse someday +sartin.' + +'Wall he's a good jedge o' gals anyway,' said Uncle Eb. + +As for myself I was now hopelessly confirmed in my dislike of +farming and I never traded horses again. + + + +Chapter 23 + +Late in August Uncle Eb and I took our Black Hawk stallion to the +fair in Hillsborough and showed him for a prize. He was fit for the +eye of a king when we had finished grooming him, that morning, +and led him out, rearing in play, his eyes flashing from under his +broad plume, so that all might have a last look at him. His arched +neck and slim barrel glowed like satin as the sunlight fell upon +him. His black mane flew, he shook the ground with his hoofs +playing at the halter's end. He hated a harness and once in it lost +half his conceit. But he was vainest of all things in Faraway when +we drove off with him that morning. + +All roads led to Hillsborough fair time. Up and down the long hills +we went on a stiff jog passing lumber wagons with generations +enough in them to make a respectable genealogy, the old people in +chairs; light wagons that carried young men and their sweethearts, +backswoodsmen coming out in ancient vehicles upon reeling, +creaking wheels to get food for a year's reflection - all thickening +the haze of the late summer with the dust of the roads. And +Hillsborough itself was black with people. The shouts of excited +men, the neighing of horses, the bellowing of cattle, the wailing of +infants, the howling of vendors, the pressing crowd, had begun to +sow the seed of misery in the minds of those accustomed only to +the peaceful quietude of the farm. The staring eye, the palpitating +heart, the aching head, were successive stages in the doom of +many. The fair had its floral hall carpeted with sawdust and +redolent of cedar, its dairy house, its mechanics' hall sacred to +farming implements, its long sheds full of sheep and cattle, its +dining-hall, its temporary booths of rough lumber, its half-mile +track and grandstand. Here voices of beast and vendor mingled in a +chorus of cupidity and distress. In Floral Hall Sol Rollin was on +exhibition. He gave me a cold nod, his lips set for a tune as yet +inaudible. He was surveying sundry examples of rustic art that +hung on the circular railing of the gallery and trying to preserve +a calm breast. He was looking at Susan Baker's painted cow that +hung near us. + +'Very descriptive,' he said when I pressed him for his notion of it. +'Rod Baker's sister Susan made thet cow. Gits tew dollars an' fifty +cents every fair time - wish I was dewin 's well.' + +'That's one of the most profitable cows in this country,' I said. + +'Looks a good deal like a new breed.' + +'Yes,' he answered soberly, then he set his lips, threw a sweeping +glance into the gallery, and passed on. + +Susan Baker's cow was one of the permanent features of the +county fair, and was indeed a curiosity not less remarkable than +the sacred ox of Mr Barnum. + +Here also I met a group of the pretty girls who had been my +schoolmates. They surrounded me, chattering like magpies. + +'There's going to be a dance at our house tonight,' said one of them, +'and you must come.' + +'I cannot, I must go home,' I said. + +'Of course!' said a red-cheeked saucy miss. 'The stuck-up thing! He +wouldn't go anywhere unless he could have his sister with him.' + +Then they went away laughing. + +I found Ab Thomas at the rifle range. He was whittling as he +considered a challenge from Tip Taylor to shoot a match. He +turned and 'hefted' the rifle, silently, and then he squinted +over the barrel two or three times. + +'Dunno but what I'll try ye once,' he said presently, 'jes t' see.' + +Once started they grew red in their faces and shot themselves +weary in a reckless contest of skill and endurance. A great hulking +fellow, half drunk and a bit quarrelsome, came up, presently, and +endeavoured to help Ab hold his rifle. The latter brushed him away +and said nothing for a moment. But every time he tried to take aim +the man jostled him. + +An looked up slowly and calmly, his eyebrows tilted for his aim, +and said, 'Go off I tell ye.' Then he set himself and took aim again. + +'Le'me hold it,' said the man, reaching for the barrel. 'Shoot better +if I do the aimin'.' A laugh greeted this remark. Ab looked up +again. There was a quick start in his great slouching figure. + +'Take yer hand off o' thet,' he said a little louder than before. + +The man, aching for more applause, grew more impertinent Ab +quietly handed the rifle to its owner. Then something happened +suddenly. It was so quickly over I am not quite sure of the order of +business, but anyhow he seized the intruder by the shoulders +flinging him down so heavily it knocked the dust out of the grass. + +'A fight!' somebody shouted and men and boys came runing from +all sides. We were locked in a pushing crowd before I could turn. +The intruder lay stunned a moment. Then he rose, bare headed, his +back covered with dust, pushed his way out and ran. + +Ab turned quietly to the range. + +'Hedn't orter t' come an' try t' dew my aimin',' he said mildly, by +way of protest, 'I won't hev it.' + +Then he enquired about the score and calmly took aim again. The +stallion show came on that afternoon. + +'They can't never beat thet hoss,' Uncle Eb had said to me. + +''Fraid they will,' I answered. 'They're better hitched for one thing.' + +'But they hain't got the ginger in 'em,' said he, 'er the git up 'n git. If +we can show what's in him the Hawk'll beat 'em easy.' + +If we won I was to get the prize but I had small hope of winning. +When I saw one after another prance out, in sparkling silver +harness adorned with rosettes of ribbon - light stepping, beautiful +creatures all of them - I could see nothing but defeat for us. Indeed +I could see we had been too confident. I dreaded the moment when +Uncle Eb should drive down with Black Hawk in a plain leather +harness, drawing a plainer buggy. I had planned to spend the prize +money taking Hope to the harvest ball at Rickard's, and I had +worked hard to put the Hawk in good fettle. I began to feel the +bitterness of failure. + +'Black Hawk! Where is Black Hawk?' said one of the judges +loudly. + +'Owned by David Brower o' Faraway,' said another looking at his +card. + +Where indeed was Uncle Eb? I got up on the fence and looked all +about me anxiously. Then I heard a great cheering up the track. +Somebody was coming down, at a rapid pace, riding a splendid +moving animal, a knee rising to the nose at each powerful stride. +His head and flying mane obscured the rider but I could see the +end of a rope swinging in his hand. There was something familiar +in the easy high stride of the horse. The cheers came on ahead of +him like foam before a breaker. Upon my eyes! it was Black +Hawk, with nothing but a plain rope halter on his head, and Uncle +Eb riding him. + +'G'lang there!' he shouted, swinging the halter stale to the shining +flank. 'G'lang there!' and he went by, like a flash, the tail of Black +Hawk straight out behind him, its end feathering in the wind. It +was a splendid thing to see - that white-haired man, sitting erect on +the flying animal, with only a rope halter in his hand. Every man +about me was yelling. I swung my hat, shouting myself hoarse. +When Uncle Eb came back the Hawk was walking quietly in a +crowd of men and boys eager to feel his silken sides. I crowded +through and held the horse's nose while Uncle Eb got down. + +'Thought I wouldn't put no luther on him,' said Uncle Eb, 'God's +gin' 'im a good 'nuff harness.' + +The judges came and looked him over. + +'Guess he'll win the prize all right,' said one of them. + +And he did. When we came home that evening every horse on the +road thought himself a trotter and went speeding to try his pace +with everything that came up beside him. And many a man of +Faraway, that we passed, sent up a shout of praise for the Black +Hawk. + +But I was thinking of Hope and the dance at Rickard's. I had plenty +of money now and my next letter urged her to come home at once. + + + +Chapter 24 + +Hope returned for a few days late in August. Invitations were just +issued for the harvest dance at Rickard's. + +'You mus' take 'er,' said Uncle Eb, the day she came. 'She's a purty +dancer as a man ever see. Prance right up an' tell 'er she mus' go. +Don' want 'O let anyone git ahead O' ye.' + +'Of course I will go,' she said in answer to my invitation, 'I +shouldn't think you were a beau worth having if you did not ask +me.' + +The yellow moon was peering over Woody Ledge when we went +away that evening. I knew it was our last pleasure seeking in +Faraway, and the crickets in the stubble filled the silence with a +kind of mourning. + +She looked so fine in her big hat and new gown with its many +dainty accessories of lace and ribbon, adjusted with so much +patting and pulling, that as she sat beside me, I hardly dared touch +her for fear of spoiling something. When she shivered a little and +said it was growing cool I put my arm about her, and, as I drew her +closer to my side, she turned her hat, obligingly, and said it was a +great nuisance. + +I tried to kiss her then, but she put her hand over my mouth and +said, sweetly, that I would spoil everything if I did that. + +'I must not let you kiss me, William,' she said, 'not - not for all in +the world. I'm sure you wouldn't have me do what I think is wrong +- would you?' + +There was but one answer to such an appeal, and I made myself as +happy as possible feeling her head upon my shoulder and her soft +hair touching my cheek. As I think of it now the trust she put in me +was something sublime and holy. + +'Then I shall talk about - about our love,' I said, 'I must do +something.' + +'Promised I wouldn't let you,' she said. Then she added after a +moment of silence, 'I'll tell you what you may do - tell me what is +your ideal in a woman - the one you would love best of all. I don't +think that would be wicked - do you?' + +'I think God would forgive that,' I said. 'She must be tall and slim, +with dainty feet and hands, and a pair of big eyes, blue as a violet, +shaded with long dark lashes. And her hair must be wavy and light +with a little tinge of gold in it. And her cheek must have the pink +of the rose and dimples that show in laughter. And her voice - that +must have music in it and the ring of kindness and good-nature. +And her lips - let them show the crimson of her blood and be ready +to give and receive a kiss when I meet her.' + +She sighed and nestled closer to me. + +'If I let you kiss me just once,' she whispered, 'you will not ask me +again - will you?' + +'No, sweetheart, I will not,' I answered. Then we gave each other +such a kiss as may be known once and only once in a lifetime. + +'What would you do for the love of a girl like that?' she whispered. + +I thought a moment, sounding depths of undiscovered woe to see if +there were anything I should hesitate to suffer and there was +nothing. + +'I'd lay me doun an' dee,' I said. + +And I well remember how, when I lay dying, as I believed, in rain +and darkness on the bloody field of Bull Run, I thought of that +moment and of those words. + +'I cannot say such beautiful things as you,' she answered, when I +asked her to describe her ideal. 'He must be good and he must be +tall and handsome and strong and brave.' + +Then she sang a tender love ballad. I have often shared the +pleasure of thousands under the spell of her voice, but I have never +heard her sing as to that small audience on Faraway turnpike. + +As we came near Rickard's Hall we could hear the fiddles and the +calling off. + +The windows on the long sides of the big house were open. Long +shafts of light shot out upon the gloom. It had always reminded me +of a picture of Noah's ark that hung in my bedroom and now it +seemed to be floating, with resting oars of gold, in a deluge of +darkness. We were greeted with a noisy welcome, at the door. +Many of the boys and girls came, from all sides of the big hall, and +shook hands with us. Enos Brown, whose long forelocks had been +oiled for the occasion and combed down so they touched his right +eyebrow, was panting in a jig that jarred the house. His trouser legs +were caught on the tops of his fine boots. He nodded to me as I +came in, snapped his fingers and doubled his energy. It was an +exhibition both of power and endurance. He was damp and +apologetic when, at length, he stopped with a mighty bang of his +foot and sat down beside me. He said he was badly out of practice +when I offered congratulations. The first fiddler was a small man, +with a short leg, and a character that was minus one dimension. It +had length and breadth but no thickness. He sat with his fellow +player on a little platform at one end of the room. He was an odd +man who wandered all over the township with his fiddle. He +played by ear, and I have seen babies smile and old men dance +when his bow was swaying. I remember that when I heard it for the +first time, I determined that I should be a fiddler if I ever grew to +be a man. But David told me that fiddlers were a worthless lot, and +that no wise man should ever fool with a fiddle. One is lucky, I +have since learned, if any dream of yesterday shall stand the better +light of today or the more searching rays of tomorrow. + +'Choose yer partners fer Money Musk!' the caller shouted. + +Hope and I got into line, the music started, the circles began to +sway. Darwin Powers, an old but frisky man, stood up beside the +fiddlers, whistling, with sobriety and vigour, as they played. It was +a pleasure to see some of the older men of the neighbourhood join +the dizzy riot by skipping playfully in the corners. They tried to +rally their unwilling wives, and generally a number of them were +dancing before the night was over. The life and colour of the +scene, the fresh, young faces of the girls some of them models of +rustic beauty - the playful antics of the young men, the +merrymaking of their fathers, the laughter, the airs of gallantry, the +glances of affection - there is a magic in the thought of it all that +makes me young again. + +There were teams before and behind us when we came home, late +at night, so sleepy that the stars went reeling as we looked at them. + +'This night is the end of many things,' I remarked. + +'And the beginning of better ones, I hope,' was her answer. + +'Yes, but they are so far away,' I said, 'you leave home to study and +I am to be four years in college-possibly I can finish in three.' + +'Perfectly terrible!' she said, and then she added the favourite +phrase and tone of her mother: 'We must be patient.' + +'I am very sorry of one thing,' I said. 'What's that?' + +'I promised not to ask you for one more kiss.' + +'Well then,' said she, 'you - you - needn't ask me.' And in a moment +I helped her out at the door. + + + +Chapter 25 + +David Brower had prospered, as I have said before, and now he +was chiefly concerned in the welfare of his children. So, that he +might give us the advantages of the town, he decided either to +lease or sell his farm- by far the handsomest property in the +township. I was there when a buyer came, in the last days of that +summer. We took him over the smooth acres from Lone Pine to +Woody Ledge, from the top of Bowman's Hill to Tinkie Brook in +the far valley. He went with us through every tidy room of the +house. He looked over the stock and the stables. + +'Wall! what's it wuth?' he said, at last, as we stood looking down +the fair green acres sloping to the sugar bush. + +David picked up a stick, opened his knife, and began to whittle +thoughtfully, a familiar squint of reflection in his face. I suppose +he thought of all it had cost him - the toil of many years, the +strength of his young manhood, the youth and beauty of his wife, a +hundred things that were far better than money. + +'Fifteen thousan' dollars,' he said slowly - 'not a cent less.' The man +parleyed a little over the price. + +'Don' care t' take any less t'day,' said David calmly. 'No harm done.' + +'How much down?' + +David named the sum. + +'An' possession?' + +'Next week' + +'Everything as it stan's?' + +'Everything as it stan's 'cept the beds an' bedding.' + +'Here's some money on account,' he said. 'We'll close t'morrer?' + +'Close t'morrer,' said David, a little sadness in his tone, as he took +the money. + +It was growing dusk as the man went away. The crickets sang with +a loud, accusing, clamour. Slowly we turned and went into the +dark house, David whistling under his breath. Elizabeth was +resting in her chair. She was humming an old hymn as she rocked. + +'Sold the farm, mother,' said David. + +She stopped singing but made no answer. In the dusk, as we sat +down, I saw her face leaning upon her hand. Over the hills and out +of the fields around us came many voices - the low chant in the +stubble, the baying of a hound in the far timber, the cry of the tree +toad - a tiny drift of odd things (like that one sees at sea) on the +deep eternal silence of the heavens. There was no sound in the +room save the low creaking of the rocker in which Elizabeth sat. +After all the going, and corning, and doing, and saying of many +years here was a little spell of silence and beyond lay the untried +things of the future. For me it was a time of reckoning. + +'Been hard at work here all these years, mother,' said David. +'Oughter be glad t' git away.' + +'Yes,' said she sadly, 'it's been hard work. Years ago I thought I +never could stan' it. But now I've got kind o' used t' it.' + +'Time ye got used t' pleasure 'n comfort,' he said. 'Come kind o' +hard, at fast, but ye mus' try t' stan' it. If we're goin' t' hev sech flin +in Heaven as Deacon Hospur tells on we oughter begin t' practice +er we'll be 'shamed uv ourselves.' + +The worst was over. Elizabeth began to laugh. + +At length a strain of song came out of the distance. + +'Maxwelton's braes are bonnie where early falls the dew.' + +'It's Hope and Uncle Eb,' said David while I went for the lantern. +'Wonder what's kep' 'em s' late.' + +When the lamps were lit the old house seemed suddenly to have +got a sense of what had been done. The familiar creak of the +stairway as I went to bed had an appeal and a protest. The rude +chromo of the voluptuous lady, with red lips and the name of +Spring, that had always hung in my chamber had a mournful, +accusing look. The stain upon her cheek that had come one day +from a little leak in the roof looked now like the path of a tear +drop. And when the wind came up in the night and I heard the +creaking of Lone Pine it spoke of the doom of that house and +its own that was not far distant. + +We rented a new home in town, that week, and were soon settled +in it. Hope went away to resume her studies the same day I began +work in college. + + + +Chapter 26 + +Not much in my life at college is essential to this history - save the +training. The students came mostly from other and remote parts of +the north country - some even from other states. Coming largely +from towns and cities they were shorn of those simple and rugged +traits, that distinguished the men o' Faraway, and made them +worthy of what poor fame this book may afford. In the main they +were like other students the world over, I take it' and mostly, as +they have shown, capable of wiling their own fame. It all seemed +very high and mighty and grand to me especially the names of the +courses. I had my baptism of Sophomoric scorn and many a heated +argument over my title to life, liberty and the pursuit of learning. It +became necessary to establish it by force of arms, which I did +decisively and with as little delay as possible. I took much interest +in athletic sports and was soon a good ball player, a boxer of some +skill, and the best wrestler in college. Things were going on +comfortably when an upper classman met me and suggested that +on a corning holiday, the Freshmen ought to wear stove-pipe hats. +Those hats were the seed of great trouble. + +'Stove-pipe hats!' I said thoughtfully. + +'They're a good protection,' he assured me. + +It seemed a very reasonable, not to say a necessary precaution. A +man has to be young and innocent sometime or what would +become of the Devil. I did not see that the stove-pipe hat was the +red rag of insurrection and, when I did see it' I was up to my neck +in the matter. + +You see the Sophs are apt to be very nasty that day,' he continued. + +I acknowledged they were quite capable of it. + +'And they don't care where they hit,' he went on. + +I felt of my head that was still sore, from a forceful argument of +the preceding day, and admitted there was good ground for the +assertion. + +When I met my classmen, that afternoon, I was an advocate of the +'stove-pipe' as a means of protection. There were a number of +husky fellows, in my class, who saw its resisting power and +seconded my suggestion. We decided to leave it to the ladies of the +class and they greeted our plan with applause. So, that morning, +we arrayed ourselves in high hats, heavy canes and fine linen, +marching together up College Hill. We had hardly entered the gate +before we saw the Sophs forming in a thick rank outside the door +prepared, as we took it, to resist our entrance. They out-numbered +us and were, in the main, heavier but we had a foot or more of +good stiff material between each head and harm. Of just what +befell us, when we got to the enemy, I have never felt sure. Of the +total inefficiency of the stove-pipe hat as an article of armour, I +have never had the slightest doubt since then. There was a great +flash and rattle of canes. Then the air was full of us. In the heat of +it all prudence went to the winds. We hit out right and left, on both +sides, smashing hats and bruising heads and hands. The canes went +down in a jiffy and then we closed with each other hip and thigh. +Collars were ripped off, coats were torn, shirts were gory from the +blood of noses, and in this condition the most of us were rolling +and tumbling on the ground. I had flung a man, heavily, and broke +away and was tackling another when I heard a hush in the tumult +and then the voice of the president. He stood on the high steps, his +grey head bare, his right hand lifted. It must have looked like +carnage from where he stood. + +'Young gentlemen!' he called. 'Cease, I command you. If we +cannot get along without this thing we will shut up shop.' + +Well, that was the end of it and came near being the end of our +careers in college. We looked at each other, torn and panting and +bloody, and at the girls, who stood by, pale with alarm. Then we +picked up the shapeless hats and went away for repairs. I had heard +that the path of learning was long and beset with peril but I hoped, +not without reason, the worst was over. As I went off the campus +the top of my hat was hanging over my left ear, my collar and +cravat were turned awry, my trousers gaped over one knee. I was +talking with a fellow sufferer and patching the skin on my +knuckles, when suddenly I met Uncle Eb. + +'By the Lord Harry!' he said, looking me over from top to toe, +'teacher up there mus' be purty ha'sh.' + +'It wa'n't the teacher,' I said. + +'Must have fit then.' + +'Fit hard,' I answered, laughing. + +'Try t' walk on ye?' + +'Tried t' walk on me. Took several steps too,' I said stooping to +brush my trousers. + +'Hm! guess he found it ruther bad walkin' didn't he?' my old friend +enquired. 'Leetle bit rough in spots?' + +'Little bit rough, Uncle Eb - that's certain.' + +'Better not go hum,' he said, a great relief in his face. 'Look 's if +ye'd been chopped down an' sawed - an' split - an' throwed in a +pile. I'll go an' bring over some things fer ye.' + +I went with my friend, who had suffered less damage, and Uncle +Eb brought me what I needed to look more respectable than I felt + +The president, great and good man that he was, forgave us, finally, +after many interviews and such wholesome reproof as made us all +ashamed of our folly. + +In my second year, at college, Hope went away to continue her +studies in New York She was to live in the family of John Fuller, a +friend of David, who had left Faraway years before and made his +fortune there in the big city. Her going filled my days with a +lingering and pervasive sadness. I saw in it sometimes the shadow +of a heavier loss than I dared to contemplate. She had come home +once a week from Ogdensburg and I had always had a letter +between times. She was ambitious and, I fancy, they let her go, so +that there should be no danger of any turning aside from the plan +of my life, or of hers; for they knew our hearts as well as we knew +them and possibly better. + +We had the parlour to ourselves the evening before she went away, +and I read her a little love tale I had written especially for that +occasion. It gave us some chance to discuss the absorbing and +forbidden topic of our lives. + +'He's too much afraid of her,' she said, 'he ought to put his arm +about her waist in that love scene.' + +'Like that,' I said, suiting the action to the word. + +'About like that,' she answered, laughing, 'and then he ought to say +something very, very, nice to her before he proposes - something +about his having loved her for so long - you know.' + +'And how about her?' I asked, my arm still about her waist. + +'If she really loves him,' Hope answered, 'she would put her arms +about his neck and lay her head upon his shoulder, so; and then he +might say what is in the story.' She was smiling now as she looked +up at me. + +'And kiss her?' + +'And kiss her,' she whispered; and, let me add, that part of the +scene was in nowise neglected. + +'And when he says: "will you wait for me and keep me always in +your heart?" what should be her answer,' I continued. + +'Always!' she said. + +'Hope, this is our own story,' I whispered. 'Does it need any further +correction?' + +'It's too short - that's all,' she answered, as our lips met again. + +Just then Uncle Eb opened the door, suddenly. + +'Tut tut!' he said tuning quickly about + +'Come in, Uncle Eb,' said Hope, 'come right in, we want to see you. + +In a moment she had caught him by the arm. + +'Don' want 'o break up the meetin',' said he laughing. + +'We don't care if you do know,' said Hope, 'we're not ashamed of it.' + +'Hain't got no cause t' be,' he said. 'Go it while ye're young 'n full 'o +vinegar! That's what I say every time. It's the best fun there is. I +thought I'd like t' hev ye both come up t' my room, fer a minute, +'fore yer mother 'n father come back,' he said in a low tone that was +almost a whisper. + +Then he shut one eye, suggestively, and beckoned with his head, as +we followed him up the stairway to the little room in which he +slept. He knelt by the bed and pulled out the old skin-covered +trunk that David Brower had given him soon after we came. He +felt a moment for the keyhole, his hand trembling, and then I +helped him open the trunk. From under that sacred suit of +broadcloth, worn only on the grandest occasions, he fetched a +bundle about the size of a man's head. It was tied in a big red +handkerchief. We were both sitting on the floor beside him. + +'Heft it,' he whispered. + +I did so and found it heavier than I expected. + +'What is it?' I asked. + +'Spondoolix,' he whispered. + +Then he untied the bundle - a close packed hoard of bankbills with +some pieces of gold and silver at the bottom. + +'Hain't never hed no use fer it,' he said as he drew out a layer of +greenbacks and spread them with trembling fingers. Then he began +counting them slowly and carefully. + +'There!' he whispered, when at length he had counted a hundred +dollars. 'There Hope! take thet an' put it away in yer wallet. Might +come handy when ye're 'way fr'm hum.' + +She kissed him tenderly. + +'Put it 'n yer wallet an' say nothin' - not a word t' nobody,' he said. + +Then he counted over a like amount for me. + +'Say nothin',' he said, looking up at me over his spectacles. 'Ye'll +hev t' spile a suit o' clothes purty often if them fellers keep a +fightin' uv ye all the time.' + +Father and mother were coming in below stairs and, hearing them, +we helped Uncle Eb tie up his bundle and stow it away. Then we +went down to meet them. + +Next morning we bade Hope goodbye at the cars and returned to +our home with a sense of loss that, for long, lay heavy upon us all. + + + +Chapter 27 + +Uncle Eb and David were away buying cattle, half the week, but +Elizabeth Brower was always at home to look after my comfort. +She was up betimes in the morning and singing at her work long +before I was out of bed. When the breakfast was near ready she +came to my door with a call so fall of cheerfulness and +good-nature it was the best thing in the day. And often, at night, I +have known her to come into my room when I was lying awake +with some hard problem, to see that I was properly covered or that +my window was not open too far. As we sat alone together, of an +evening, I have seen her listen for hours while I was committing +the Odes of Horace with a curiosity that finally gave way to +resignation. Sometimes she would look over my shoulder at the +printed page and try to discern some meaning in it when Uncle Eb +was with us he would often sit a long time his head turned +attentively as the lines came rattling off my tongue. + +'Cur'us talk!' he said, one evening, as I paused a moment, while he +crossed the room for a drink of water. 'Don' seem t' make no kind +O' sense. I can make out a word here 'n there but fer good, sound, +common sense I call it a purty thin crop.' + +Hope wrote me every week for a time. A church choir had offered +her a place soon after she went to the big city. She came home +intending to surprise us all, the first summer but unfortunately, I +had gone away in the woods with a party of surveyors and missed +her. We were a month in the wilderness and came out a little west +of Albany where I took a boat for New York to see Hope. I came +down the North River between the great smoky cities, on either +side of it, one damp and chilly morning. The noise, the crowds, the +immensity of the town appalled me. At John Fuller's I found that +Hope had gone home and while they tried to detain me longer I +came back on the night boat of the same day. Hope and I passed +each other in that journey and I did not see her until the summer +preceding my third and last year in college - the faculty having +allowed me to take two years in one. Her letters had come less +frequently and when she came I saw a grand young lady of fine +manners, her beauty shaping to an ampler mould, her form +straightening to the dignity of womanhood. + +At the depot our hands were cold and trembling with excitement - +neither of us, I fancy, knowing quite how far to go in our greeting. +Our correspondence had been true to the promise made her mother +- there had not been a word of love in it - only now and then a +suggestion of our tender feeling. We hesitated only for the briefest +moment. Then I put my arm about her neck and kissed her. + +'I am so glad to see you,' she said. + +Well, she was charming and beautiful, but different, and probably +not more different than was I. She was no longer the laughing, +simple-mannered child of Faraway, whose heart was as one's hand +before him in the daylight. She had now a bit of the woman's +reserve - her prudence, her skill in hiding the things of the heart. I +loved her more than ever, but somehow I felt it hopeless - that she +had grown out of my life. She was much in request among the +people of Hillsborough, and we went about a good deal and had +many callers. But we had little time to ourselves. She seemed to +avoid that, and had much to say of the grand young men who came +to call on her in the great city. Anyhow it all hurt me to the soul +and even robbed me of my sleep. A better lover than I would have +made an end of dallying and got at the truth, come what might. But +I was of the Puritans, and not of the Cavaliers, and my way was +that which God had marked for me, albeit I must own no man had +ever a keener eye for a lovely woman or more heart to please her. +A mighty pride had come to me and I had rather have thrown my +heart to vultures than see it an unwelcome offering. And I was +quite out of courage with Hope; she, I dare say, was as much out of +patience with me. + +She returned in the late summer and I went back to my work at +college in a hopeless fashion that gave way under the whip of a +strong will. + +I made myself as contented as possible. I knew all the pretty girls +and went about with some of them to the entertainments of the +college season. At last came the long looked for day of my +graduation - the end of my student life. + +The streets of the town were thronged, every student having the +college colours in his coat lapel. The little company of graduates +trembled with fright as the people crowded in to the church, +whispering and faring themselves, in eager anticipation. As the +former looked from the two side pews where they sat, many +familiar faces greeted them - the faces of fathers and mothers +aglow with the inner light of pride and pleasure; the faces of many +they loved come to claim a share in the glory of that day. I found +my own, I remember, but none of them gave me such help as that +of Uncle Eb. However I might fare, none would feel the pride or +disgrace of it more keenly than he. I shall never forget how he +turned his head to catch every word when I ascended the platform. +As I warmed to my argument I could see him nudging the arm of +David, who sat beside him, as if to say, 'There's the boy that came +over the hills with me in a pack basket.' when I stopped a moment, +groping for the next word, he leaned forward, embracing his knee, +firmly, as if intending to draw off a boot. It was all the assistance +he could give me. When the exercises were over I found Uncle Eb +by the front door of the church, waiting for me. + +'Willie, ye done noble!' said he. + +'Did my very best, Uncle Eb,' I replied. + +'Liked it grand - I did, sartin.' 'Glad you liked it, Uncle Eb.' + +'Showed great larnin'. Eho was the man 'at give out the pictur's?' + +He meant the president who had conferred the degrees. I spoke the +name. + +'Deceivin' lookin' man, ain't he? Seen him often, but never took no +pertick'lar notice of him before.' + +'How deceiving?' I enquired. + +'Talked so kind of plain,' he replied. 'I could understan' him as easy +as though he'd been swappin' hosses. But when you got up, Bill'. +why, you jes' riz right up in the air an' there couldn't no dum fool +tell what you was talkin' 'bout.' + +Whereat I concluded that Uncle Eb's humour was as deep as it was +kindly, but I have never been quite sure whether the remark was a +compliment or a bit of satire. + + + +Chapter 28 + +The folks of Faraway have been carefully if rudely pictured, but +the look of my own person, since I grew to the stature of manhood, +I have left wholly to the imagination of the reader. I will wager he +knew long since what manner of man I was and has measured me +to the fraction of an inch, and knows even the colour of my hair +and eyes from having been so long in my company. If not - well, I +shall have to write him a letter. + +When Uncle Eb and I took the train for New York that summer day +in 1860, some fifteen years after we came down Paradise Road +with the dog and wagon and pack basket, my head, which, in that +far day, came only to the latitude of his trouser pocket, had now +mounted six inches above his own. That is all I can say here on +that branch of my subject. I was leaving to seek my fortune in the +big city; Uncle Eb was off for a holiday and to see Hope and bring +her home for a short visit. I remember with what sadness I looked +back that morning at mother and father as they stood by the gate +slowly waving their handkerchiefs. Our home at last was emptied +of its young, and even as they looked the shadow of old age must +have fallen suddenly before them. I knew how they would go back +into that lonely room and how, while the clock went on with its +ticking, Elizabeth would sit down and cover her face a moment, +while David would make haste to take up his chores. + +We sat in silence a long time after the train was off, a mighty +sadness holding our tongues. Uncle Eb, who had never ridden a +long journey on the cars before, had put on his grand suit of +broadcloth. The day was hot and dusty, and before we had gone far +he was sadly soiled. But a suit never gave him any worry, once it +was on. He sat calmly, holding his knee in his hands and looking +out of the open window, a squint in his eyes that stood for some +high degree of interest in the scenery. + +'What do you think of this country?' I enquired. + +'Looks purty fair,' said he, as he brushed his face with his +handkerchief and coughed to clear his throat of the dust, 'but 'tain't +quite so pleasant to the taste as some other parts o' the country. I +ruther liked the flavour of Saint Lawrence all through, but +Jefferson is a leetle gritty.' + +He put down the window as he spoke. + +'A leetle tobaccer'll improve it some,' he added, as his hand went +down for the old silver box. 'The way these cars dew rip along! +Consamed if it ain't like flyin'! Kind o' makes me feel like a bird.' + +The railroad was then not the familiar thing it is now in the north +country. The bull in the fields had not yet come to an +understanding of its rights, and was frequently tempted into +argument with a locomotive. Bill Fountain, who came out of a +back township, one day had even tied his faithful hound to the rear +platform. + +Our train came to a long stop for wood and water near midday, and +then we opened the lunch basket that mother had given us. + +'Neighbour,' said a solemn-faced man, who sat in front of us, 'do +you think the cars are ag'in the Bible? D'you think a Christian orter +ride on 'em?' + +'Sartin,' said Uncle Eb. 'Less the constable's after him - then I think +he orter be on a balky hoss.' + +'Wife'n I hes talked it over a good deal,' said the man. 'Some says +it's ag'in the Bible. The minister 'at preaches over 'n our +neighbourhood says if God hed wanted men t' fly he'd g'in 'em +wings.' + +'S'pose if he'd ever wanted 'm t' skate he'd hed 'em born with skates +on?' said Uncle Eb. + +'Danno,' said the man. 'It behooves us all to be careful. The Bible +says "Go not after new things."' + +'My friend,' said Uncle Eb, between bites of a doughnut, 'I don' +care what I ride in so long as 'tain't a hearse. I want sumthin' at's +comfortable an' purty middlin' spry. It'll do us good up here t' git +jerked a few hunderd miles an' back ev'ry leetle while. Keep our +j'ints limber. We'll live longer fer it, an' thet'll please God sure - +cuz I don't think he's hankerin' fer our society - not a bit. Don' +make no difference t' him whuther we ride 'n a spring wagon er on +the cars so long's we're right side up 'n movin'. We need more +steam; we're too dum slow. Kind o' think a leetle more steam in +our religion wouldn't hurt us a bit. It's purty fur behind.' + +We got to Albany in the evening, just in time for the night boat. +Uncle Eb was a sight in his dusty broadcloth, when we got off the +cars, and I know my appearance could not have been prepossessing. +Once we were aboard the boat and had dusted our clothes and bathed +our hands and faces we were in better spirits. + +'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb, as we left the washroom, 'le's have a +durn good supper. I'll stan' treat.' + +'Comes a leetle bit high,' he said, as he paid the bill, 'but I don' care +if it does. 'Fore we left I says t' myself, "Uncle Eb," says I, "you go +right in fer a good time an' don' ye count the pennies. Everybody's +a right t' be reckless once in seventy-five year."' + +We went to our stateroom a little after nine. I remember the berths +had not been made up, and removing our boots and coats we lay +down upon the bare mattresses. Even then I had a lurking fear that +we might be violating some rule of steamboat etiquette. When I +went to New York before I had dozed all night in the big cabin. + +A dim light came through the shuttered door that opened upon the +dinning-saloon where the rattle of dishes for a time put away the +possibility of sleep. + +'I'll be awful glad t' see Hope,' said Uncle Eb, as he lay gaping. + +'Guess I'll be happier to see her than she will to see me,' I said. + +'What put that in yer head?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +''Fraid we've got pretty far apart,' said I. + +'Shame on ye, Bill,' said the old gentleman. 'If thet's so ye ain't +done right Hedn't orter let a girl like thet git away from ye - th' ain't +another like her in this world.' + +'I know it' I said' 'but I can't help it Somebody's cut me out Uncle +Eb.' + +''Tain't so,' said he emphatically. 'Ye want t' prance right up t' her.' + +'I'm not afraid of any woman,' I said, with a great air of bravery, +'but if she don't care for me I ought not to throw myself at her.' + +'Jerusalem!' said Uncle Eb, rising up suddenly, 'what hev I gone an' +done?' + +He jumped out of his berth quickly and in the dim light I could see +him reaching for several big sheets of paper adhering to the back +of his shirt and trousers. I went quickly to his assistance and began +stripping off the broadsheets which, covered with some strongly +adhesive substance, had laid a firm hold upon him. I rang the bell +and ordered a light. + +'Consam it all! what be they - plasters?' said Uncle Eb, quite out of +patience. + +'Pieces of brown paper, covered with - West India molasses, I +should think,' said I. + +'West Injy molasses!' he exclaimed. 'By mighty! That makes me +hotter'n a pancake. What's it on the bed fer?' + +'To catch flies,' I answered. + +'An' ketched me,' said Uncle Eb, as he flung the sheet he was +examining into a corner. 'My extry good suit' too!' + +He took off his trousers, then, holding them up to the light. + +'They're sp'ilt,' said he mournfully. 'Hed 'em fer more'n ten year, +too.' + +'That's long enough,' I suggested. + +'Got kind o' 'tached to 'em,' he said, looking down at them and +rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Then we had a good laugh. + +'You can put on the other suit,' I suggested, 'and when we get to the +city we'll have these fixed.' + +'Leetle sorry, though,' said he, 'cuz that other suit don' look reel +grand. This here one has been purty - purty scrumptious in its day - +if I do say it.' + +'You look good enough in anything that's respectable,' I said. + +'Kind o' wanted to look a leetle extry good, as ye might say,' said +Uncle Eb, groping in his big carpet-bag. 'Hope, she's terrible proud, +an' if they should hev a leetle fiddlin' an' dancin' some night we'd +want t' be as stylish as any on em. B'lieve I'll go'n git me a spang, +bran' new suit, anyway, 'fore we go up t' Fuller's.' + +As we neared the city we both began feeling a bit doubtful as to +whether we were quite ready for the ordeal. + +'I ought to,' I said. 'Those I'm wearing aren't quite stylish enough, +I'm afraid.' + +'They're han'some,' said Uncle Eb, looking up over his spectacles, +'but mebbe they ain't just as splendid as they'd orter be. How much +money did David give ye?' + +'One hundred and fifty dollars,' I said, thinking it a very grand sum +indeed. + +''Tain't enough,' said Uncle Eb, bolting up at me again. 'Leastways +not if ye're goin' t' hev a new suit. I want ye t' be spick an' span.' + +He picked up his trousers then, and took out his fat leather wallet. + +'Lock the door,' he whispered. + +'Pop goes the weasel!' he exclaimed, good-naturedly, and then he +began counting the bills. + +'I'm not going to take any more of your money, Uncle Eb,' I said. + +'Tut, tut!' said he, 'don't ye try t' interfere. What d' ye think they'll +charge in the city fer a reel, splendid suit?' + +He stopped and looked up at me. + +'Probably as much as fifty dollars,' I answered. + +'Whew-w-w!' he whistled. 'Patty steep! It is sartin.' + +'Let me go as I am,' said I. 'Time enough to have a new suit when +I've earned it.' + +'Wall,' he said, as he continued counting, 'I guess you've earnt it +already. Ye've studied hard an' tuk first honours an' yer goin' where +folks are purty middlin' proud'n haughty. I want ye t' be a reg'lar +high stepper, with a nice, slick coat. There,' he whispered, as he +handed me the money, 'take thet! An' don't ye never tell 'at I g'in it +t' ye.' + +I could not speak for a little while, as I took the money, for +thinking of the many, many things this grand old man had done +for me. + +'Do ye think these boots'll do?' he asked, as he held up to the light +the pair he had taken off in the evening. + +'They look all right,' I said. + +'Ain't got no decent squeak to 'em now, an' they seem t' look kind +o' clumsy. How're your'n?' he asked. + +I got them out from under the berth and we inspected them +carefully deciding in the end they would pass muster. + +The steward had made up our berths, when he came, and lit our +room for us. Our feverish discussion of attire had carried us far +past midnight, when we decided to go to bed. + +'S'pose we musn't talk t' no strangers there 'n New York,' said +Uncle Eb, as he lay down. 'I've read 'n the Tribune how they'll +purtend t' be friends an' then grab yer money an' run like Sam Hill. +If I meet any o' them fellers they're goin' t' find me purty middlin' +poor comp'ny.' + +We were up and on deck at daylight, viewing the Palisades. The +lonely feeling of an alien hushed us into silence as we came to the +noisy and thickening river craft at the upper end of the city. +Countless window panes were shining in the morning sunlight. +This thought was in my mind that somewhere in the innumerable +host on either side was the one dearer to me than any other. We +enquired our way at the dock and walked to French's Hotel, on +Printing House Square. After breakfast we went and ordered all the +grand new things we had planned to get. They would not be ready +for two days, and after talking it over we decided to go and make a +short call. Hope, who had been up and looking for us a long time, +gave us a greeting so hearty we began to get the first feeling of +comfort since landing. She was put out about our having had +breakfast, I remember, and said we must have our things brought +there at once. + +'I shall have to stay at the hotel awhile,' I said, thinking of the new +clothes. + +'Why,' said Mrs Fuller, 'this girl has been busy a week fixing your +rooms and planning for you. We could not hear of your going +elsewhere. It would be downright ingratitude to her.' + +A glow of red came into the cheeks of Hope that made me +ashamed of my remark. I thought she looked lovelier in her pretty +blue morning gown, covering a broad expanse of crinoline, than +ever before. + +'And you've both got to come and hear me sing tonight at the +church,' said she. 'I wouldn't have agreed to sing if I had not +thought you were to be here.' + +We made ourselves at home, as we were most happy to do, and +that afternoon I went down town to present to Mr Greeley the +letter that David Brower had given me. + + + +Chapter 29 + +I came down Broadway that afternoon aboard a big white omnibus, +that drifted slowly in a tide of many vehicles. Those days there +were a goodly show of trees on either side of that thoroughfare - +elms, with here and there a willow, a sumach or a mountain ash. +The walks were thronged with handsome people - dandies with +high hats and flaunting necknes and swinging canes - beautiful +women, each covering a broad circumference of the pavement, +with a cone of crinoline that swayed over dainty feet. From Grace +Church down it was much of the same thing we see now, with a +more ragged sky line. Many of the great buildings, of white and +red sandstone, had then appeared, but the street was largely in +the possession of small shops - oyster houses, bookstores and the +like. Not until I neared the sacred temple of the Tribune did I feel +a proper sense of my own littleness. There was the fountain of all +that wisdom which had been read aloud and heard with reverence +in our household since a time I could but dimly remember. There +sat the prophet who had given us so much - his genial views of life +and government, his hopes, his fears, his mighty wrath at the +prospering of cruelty and injustice. + +'I would like to see Mr Horace Greeley,' I said, rather timidly, at +the counter. + +'Walk right up those stairs and turn to the left,' said a clerk, as he +opened a gate for me. + +Ascending, I met a big man coming down, hurriedly, and with +heavy steps. We stood dodging each other a moment with that +unfortunate co-ordination of purpose men sometimes encounter +when passing each other. Suddenly the big man stopped in the +middle of the stairway and held both of his hands above his head. + +'In God's name! young man,' said he, 'take your choice.' + +He spoke in a high, squeaky voice that cut me with the sharpness +of its irritation. I went on past him and entered an open door near +the top of the stairway. + +'Is Mr Horace Greeley in?' I enquired of a young man who sat +reading papers. + +'Back soon,' said he, without looking up. 'Take a chair.' + +In a little while I heard the same heavy feet ascending the stairway +two steps at a time. Then the man I had met came hurriedly into +the room. + +'This is Mr Greeley,' said the young man who was reading. + +The great editor turned and looked at me through gold-rimmed +spectacles. I gave him my letter out of a trembling hand. He +removed it from the envelope and held it close to his big, kindly, +smooth-shaven face. There was a fringe of silky, silver hair, +streaked with yellow, about the lower part of his head from temple +to temple. It also encircled his throat from under his collar. His +cheeks were fall and fair as a lady's, with rosy spots in them and a +few freckles about his nose. He laughed as he finished reading the +letter. + +'Are you Dave Brower's boy?' he asked in a drawling falsetto, +looking at me out of grey eyes and smiling with good humour. + +'By adoption,' I answered.' + +'He was an almighty good rassler,' he said, deliberately, as he +looked again at the letter.' + +'What do you want to do?' he asked abruptly.' + +'Want to work on the Tribune,' I answered.' + +'Good Lord! he said. 'I can't hire everybody.' + +I tried to think of some argument, but what with looking at the +great man before me, and answering his questions and maintaining +a decent show of dignity, I had enough to do. + +'Do you read the Tribune? he asked.' + +'Read it ever since I can remember.' + +'What do you think of the administration? + +'Lot of dough faces! I answered, smiling, as I saw he recognised +his own phrase. He sat a moment tapping the desk with his +penholder.' + +'There's so many liars here in New York,' he said, 'there ought to +be room for an honest man. How are the crops?' + +'Fair, I answered. 'Big crop of boys every year.' + +'And now you're trying to find a market, he remarked.' + +'Want to have you try them,' I answered. + +'Well,' said he, very seriously, turning to his desk that came up to +his chin as he sat beside it, 'go and write me an article about rats.' + +'Would you advise-,' I started to say, when he interrupted me. + +'The man that gives advice is a bigger fool than the man that takes +it,' he fleered impatiently. 'Go and do your best!' + +Before he had given me this injunction he had dipped his pen and +begun to write hurriedly. If I had known him longer I should have +known that, while he had been talking to me, that tireless mind of +his had summoned him to its service. I went out, in high spirits, +and sat down a moment on one of the benches in the little park +near by, to think it all over. He was going to measure my +judgement, my skill as a writer- my resources. 'Rats,' I said to +myself thoughtfully. I had read much about them. They infested +the ships, they overran the wharves, they traversed the sewers. An +inspiration came to me. I started for the waterfront, asking my way +every block or two. Near the East River I met a policeman - a big, +husky, good-hearted Irishman. + +'Can you tell me,' I said, 'who can give me information about rats?' + +'Rats?' he repeated. 'What d' ye wan't' know about thim?' + +'Everything,' I said. 'They ve just given me a job on the New York +Tribune,' I added proudly. + +He smiled good-naturedly. He had looked through me at a glance. + +'Just say "Tribune",' he said. 'Ye don't have t' say "New York +Tribune" here. Come along wi' me.' + +He took me to a dozen or more of the dock masters. + +'Give 'im a lift, my hearty,' he said to the first of them. 'He's a +green.' + +I have never forgotten the kindness of that Irishman, whom I came +to know well in good time. Remembering that day and others I +always greeted him with a hearty 'God bless the Irish!' every time I +passed him, and he would answer, 'Amen, an' save yer riverince.' + +He did not leave me until I was on my way home loaded with fact +and fable and good dialect with a savour of the sea in it. + +Hope and Uncle Eb were sitting together in his room when I +returned. + +'Guess I've got a job,' I said, trying to be very cool about it.. + +'A job! said Hope eagerly, as she rose. 'Where? + +'With Mr Horace Greeley,' I answered, my voice betraying my +excitement. + +'Jerusalem! said Uncle Eb. 'Is it possible?' + +'That's grand! said Hope. 'Tell us about it.' + +Then I told them of my interview with the great editor and of what +I had done since. + +'Ye done wonderful!' said Uncle Eb and Hope showed quite as +much pleasure in her own sweet way. + +I was for going to my room and beginning to write at once, but +Hope said it was time to be getting ready for dinner. + +When we came down at half-past six we were presented to our +host and the guests of the evening - handsome men and women in +full dress - and young Mr Livingstone was among them. I felt +rather cheap in my frock coat, although I had thought it grand +enough for anybody on the day of my graduation. Dinner +announced, the gentlemen rose and offered escort to the ladies, +and Hope and Mrs Fuller relieved our embarrassment by +conducting us to our seats - women are so deft in those little +difficulties. The dinner was not more formal than that of every +evening in the Fuller home - for its master was a rich man of some +refinement of taste - and not at all comparable to the splendid +hospitality one may see every day at the table of a modern +millionaire. But it did seem very wonderful to us, then, with its +fine-mannered servants, its flowers, its abundant silver. Hope had +written much to her mother of the details of deportment at John +Fuller's table, and Elizabeth had delicately imparted to us the +things we ought to know. We behaved well, I have since been told, +although we got credit for poorer appetites than we possessed. +Uncle Eb took no chances and refused everything that had a look of +mystery and a suggestion of peril, dropping a droll remark, +betimes, that sent a ripple of amusement around the table. + +John Trumbull sat opposite me, and even then I felt a curious +interest in him - a big, full bearded man, quite six feet tall, his skin +and eyes dark, his hair iron-grey, his voice deep like David s. I +could not get over the impression that I had seen him before - a +feeling I have had often, facing men I could never possibly have +met. No word came out of his firm mouth unless he were +addressed, and then all in hearing listened to the little he had to +say: it was never more than some very simple remark. In his face +and form and voice there was abundant heraldry of rugged power +and ox-like vitality. I have seen a bronze head of Daniel Webster +which, with a full blonde beard and an ample covering of grey hair +would have given one a fairly perfect idea of the look of John +Trumbull. Imagine it on a tall, and powerful body and let it speak +with a voice that has in it the deep and musical vibration one may +hear in the looing of an ox and you shall see, as perfectly as my +feeble words can help you to do, this remarkable man who, must, +hereafter, play before you his part - compared to which mine is as +the prattle of a child - in this drama of God's truth. + +'You have not heard,' said Mrs Fuller addressing me, 'how Mr +Trumbull saved Hope's life.' + +'Saved Hope's life!' I exclaimed. + +'Saved her life,' she repeated, 'there isn't a doubt of it. We never +sent word of it for fear it would give you all needless worry. It was +a day of last winter - fell crossing Broadway, a dangerous place' +he pulled her aside just in time - the horse's feet were raised above +her - she would have been crushed in a moment He lifted her in his +arms and carried her to the sidewalk not a bit the worse for it. + +'Seems as if it were fate,' said Hope. 'I had seen him so often and +wondered who he was. I recall a night when I had to come home +alone from rehearsal. I was horribly afraid. I remember passing +him under a street lamp. If he had spoken to me, then, I should +have dropped with fear and he would have had to carry me home +that time. + +'It's an odd thing a girl like you should ever have to walk home +alone,' said Mr Fuller. 'Doesn't speak well for our friend +Livingstone or Burnham there or Dobbs. + +'Mrs Fuller doesn't give us half a chance,' said Livingstone, 'she +guards her day and night. It's like the monks and the Holy Grail. + +'Hope is independent of the young men,' said Mrs Fuller as we rose +from the table. 'If I cannot go with her myself, in the carriage, I +always send a maid or a manservant to walk home with her. But +Mr Fuller and I were out of town that night and the young men +missed their great opportunity. + +'Had a differ'nt way o' sparkin' years ago,' said Uncle Eb. 'Didn't +never hev if please anybody but the girl then. If ye liked a girl ye +went an' sot up with her an' gin her a smack an' tol' her right out +plain an' square what ye wanted. An' thet settled it one way er t' +other. An' her mother she step' in the next room with the door +half-open an' never paid no 'tention. Recollec' one col'night when I +was sparkin' the mother hollered out o' bed, "Lucy, hev ye got +anythin 'round ye?" an' she hollered back, "Yis, mother," an' she +hed too but 'twan't nothin' but my arm.' + +They laughed merrily, over the quaint reminiscence of my old +friend and the quainter way he had of telling it. The rude dialect of +the backwoodsman might have seemed oddly out of place, there, +but for the quiet, unassuming manner and the fine old face of +Uncle Eb in which the dullest eye might see the soul of a +gentleman. + +'What became of Lucy?' Mr Fuller enquired, laughingly. 'You +never married her.' + +'Lucy died,' he answered soberly; 'thet was long, long ago.' + +Then he went away with John Trumbull to the smoking-room +where I found them, talking earnestly in a corner, when it was time +to go to the church with Hope. + + + +Chapter 30 + +Hope and Uncle Eb and I went away in a coach with Mrs Fuller. +There was a great crowd in the church that covered, with sweeping +arches, an interior more vast than any I had ever entered. Hope was +gowned in white silk, a crescent of diamonds in her hair - a +birthday gift from Mrs Fuller; her neck and a part of her full breast +unadorned by anything save the gifts of God - their snowy +whiteness, their lovely curves. + +First Henry Cooper came on with his violin - a great master as I +now remember him. Then Hope ascended to the platform, her +dainty kid slippers showing under her gown, and the odious +Livingstone escorting her. I was never so madly in love or so +insanely jealous. I must confess it for I am trying to tell the whole +truth of myself - I was a fool. And it is the greater folly that one +says ever 'I was,' and never 'I am' in that plea. I could even see it +myself then and there, but I was so great a fool I smiled and spoke +fairly to the young man although I could have wrung his neck with +rage. There was a little stir and a passing whisper in the crowd as +she stood waiting for the prelude. Then she sang the ballad of Auld +Robin Grey - not better than I had heard her sing it before, but so +charmingly there were murmurs of delight going far and wide in +the audience when she had finished. Then she sang the fine +melody of 'Angels ever Bright and Fair', and again the old +ballad she and I had heard first from the violin of poor Nick +Goodall. + + By yon bonnie bank an' by yon bonnie bonnie brae + The sun shines bright on Loch Lomond + Where me an' me true love were ever won't if gae + On the bonnie, bonnie bank o' Loch Lomond. + +Great baskets of roses were handed to her as she came down from +the platform and my confusion was multiplied by their number for +I had not thought to bring any myself. + +I turned to Uncle Eb who, now and then, had furtively wiped his +eyes. 'My stars!' he whispered, 'ain't it reemarkable grand! Never +heard ner seen nothin' like thet in all my born days. An' t' think +it's my little Hope.' + +He could go no further. His handkerchief was in his hand while he +took refuge in silence. + +Going home the flowers were heaped upon our laps and I, with +Hope beside me, felt some restoration of comfort. + +'Did you see Trumbull?' Mrs Fuller asked. 'He sat back of us and +did seem to enjoy it so much - your singing. He was almost +cheerful. + +'Tell me about Mr Trumbull,' I said. 'He is interesting. + +'Speculator,' said Mrs Fuller. 'A strange man, successful, silent, +unmarried and, I think, in love. Has beautiful rooms they say on +Gramercy Park. Lives alone with an old servant. We got to know +him through the accident. Mr Fuller and he have done business +together - a great deal of it since then. Operates in the stock +market. + +A supper was waiting for us at home and we sat a long time at the +table. I was burning for a talk with Hope but how was I to manage +it? We rose with the others and went and sat down together in a +corner of the great parlour. We talked of that night at the White +Church in Faraway when we heard Nick Goodall play and she had +felt the beginning of a new life. + +'I've heard how well you did last year,' she said, 'and how nice you +were to the girls. A friend wrote me all about it. How attentive you +were to that little Miss Brown! + +'But decently polite,' I answered. 'One has to have somebody or - or +be a monk. + +'One has to have somebody!' she said, quickly, as she picked at the +flower on her bosom and looked down at it soberly. 'That is true +one has to have somebody and, you know, I haven't had any lack +of company myself. By the way, I have news to tell you. + +She spoke slowly and in a low voice with a touch of sadness in it. I +felt the colour mounting to my face. + +'News!' I repeated. 'What news, I-lope? + +'I am going away to England,' she said, 'with Mrs Fuller if - if +mother will let me. I wish you would write and ask her to let me +go. + +I was unhorsed. What to say I knew not, what it meant I could +vaguely imagine. There was a moment of awkward silence. + +'Of course I will ask her if you wish to go,' I said. 'When do you +sail? + +'They haven't fixed the day yet. + +She sat looking down at her fan, a beautiful, filmy thing between +braces of ivory. Her knees were crossed, one dainty foot showing +under ruffles of lace. I looked at her a moment dumb with +admiration. + +'What a big man you have grown to be Will,' she said presently. 'I +am almost afraid of you now. + +She was still looking down at the fan and that little foot was +moving nervously. Now was my time. I began framing an avowal. +I felt a wild impulse to throw my strong arms about her and draw +her close to me and feel the pink velvet of her fair face upon mine. +If I had only done it! But what with the strangeness and grandeur +of that big room, the voices of the others who were sitting in the +library, near by, the mystery of the spreading crinoline that was +pressing upon my knees, I had not half the courage of a lover. + +'My friend writes me that you are in love,' she said, opening her +fan and moving it slowly, as she looked up at me. + +'She is right I must confess it,' I said, 'I am madly, hopelessly in +love. It is time you knew it Hope and I want your counsel. + +She rose quickly and turned her face away. + +'Do not tell me - do not speak of it again - I forbid you,' she +answered coldly. + +Then she stood silent. I rose to take her hand and ask her to tell me +why, a pretty rankling in my heart, Soft footsteps and the swish of +a gown were approaching. Before I could speak Mrs Fuller had +come through the doorway. + +'Come Hope,' she said, 'I cannot let you sit up late - you are worn +out, my dear. + +Then Hope bade us both good-night and went away to her room. If +I had known as much about women then, as now, I should have +had it out, with short delay, to some understanding between us. But +in that subject one loves and learns. And one thing I have learned +is this, that jealousy throws its illusions on every word and look +and act. I went to my room and sat down for a bit of reckoning. +Hope had ceased to love me, I felt sure, and how was I to win her +back? + +After all my castle building what was I come to? + +I heard my door open presently, and then I lifted my head. Uncle +Eb stood near me in his stocking feet and shirt-sleeves. + +'In trouble,' he whispered. + +'In trouble,' I said. + +''Bout Hope?' + +'It's about Hope.' + +'Don't be hasty. Hope'll never go back on you,' he whispered. 'She +doesn't love me,' I said impulsively. 'She doesn't care the snap of +her finger for me. + +'Don't believe it,' he answered calmly. 'Not a single word of it. +Thet woman - she's tryin' t' keep her away from ye - but 'twon't +make no differ'nce. Not a bit. + +'I must try to win her back - someway - somehow,' I whispered. + +'Gi n ye the mitten?' he asked. + +'That's about it,' I answered, going possibly too far in the depth of +my feeling. + +'Whew w!' he softly whistled. 'Wall, it takes two mittens t'make a +pair - ye'll hev t'ask her ag in. + +'Yes I cannot give her up,' I said decisively, 'I must try to win her +back. It isn't fair. I have no claim upon her. But I must do it. + +'Consarn it! women like t'be chased,' he said. 'It's their natur'. +What do they fix up so fer - di'mon's an' silks an' satins - if 'tain't +t'set men a chasm 'uv 'em? You'd otter enjoy it. Stick to her - +jes' like a puppy to a root. Thet's my advice.' + +'Hope has got too far ahead of me,' I said. 'She can marry a rich man +if she wishes to, and I don't see why she shouldn't. What am I, anyhow, +but a poor devil just out of college and everything to win? It makes me +miserable to think here in this great house how small I am.' + +'There's things goin' if happen,' Uncle Eb whispered. 'I can't tell ye +what er when but they're goin' if happen an' they're goin' if +change everything. + +We sat thinking a while then. I knew what he meant - that I was to +conquer the world, somehow, and the idea seemed to me so absurd +I could hardly help laughing as melancholy as I felt. + +'Now you go if bed,' he said, rising and gently touching my head +with his hand. 'There's things goin' t'happen, boy - take my word +fer it. + +I got in bed late at night but there was no sleep for me. In the still +hours I lay quietly, planning my future, for now I must make +myself worth having and as soon as possible. + +Some will say my determination was worthy of a better lover but, +bless you! I have my own way of doing things and it has not been +always so unsuccessful. + + + +Chapter 31 + +Hope was not at breakfast with us. + +'The child is worn out,' said Mrs Fuller. 'I shall keep her in bed a +day or two. + +'Couldn't I see her a moment?' I enquired. + +'Dear! no!' said she. 'The poor thing is in bed with a headache.' If +Hope had been ill at home I should have felt free to go and sit by +her as I had done more than once. It seemed a little severe to be +shut away from her now but Mrs Fuller's manner had +fore-answered any appeal and I held my peace. Having no children +of her own she had assumed a sort of proprietorship over Hope that +was evident - that probably was why the girl had ceased to love me +and to write to me as of old. A troop of mysteries came clear to me +that morning. Through many gifts and favours she had got my +sweetheart in a sort of bondage and would make a marriage of her +own choosing if possible. + +'Is there anything you would like particularly for your breakfast? +Mrs Fuller enquired. + +'Hain't no way pertic'lar,' said Uncle Eb. 'I gen rally eat buckwheat +pancakes an' maple sugar with a good strong cup o'tea. + +Mrs Fuller left the room a moment. + +'Dunno but I'll go out if the barn a minnit 'n take a look at the +hosses,' he said when she came back. + +'The stable is a mile away,' she replied smiling. + +'Gran' good team ye druv us out with las' night,' he said. 'Hed a +chance t'look 'em over a leetle there at the door. The off hoss is +puffed some for'ard but if yer husband'll put on a cold bandage ev'ry +night it'll make them legs smoother n a hound's tooth. + +She thanked him and invited us to look in at the conservatory. + +'Where's yer husband?' Uncle Eb enquired. + +'He's not up yet,' said she, 'I fear he did not sleep well. + +'Now Mis Fuller,' said Uncle Eb, as we sat waiting, 'if there s +anything I can do t'help jes'le'me know what 'tis. + +She said there was nothing. Presently Uncle Eb sneezed so +powerfully that it rattled the crystals on the chandelier and rang in +the brass medallions. + +The first and second butlers came running in with a frightened +look. There was also a startled movement from somebody above +stairs. + +'I do sneeze powerful, sometimes,' said Uncle Eb from under his +red bandanna. ''S enough if scare anybody.' + +They brought in our breakfast then - a great array of tempting +dishes. 'Jest hev four pancakes 'n a biled egg,' said Uncle Eb as he +sipped his tea. 'Grand tea!' he added, 'strong enough if float a silver +dollar too. + +'Mrs Fuller,' I said rising, when we had finished, 'I thank you for +your hospitality, but as I shall have to work nights, probably, I +must find lodgings near the office. + +'You must come and see us again,' she answered cordially. 'On +Saturday I shall take Hope away for a bit of rest to Saratoga +probably - and from there I shall take her to Hillsborough myself +for a day or two. + +'Thought she was goin' home with me,' said Uncle Eb. + +'O dear no!' said Mrs Fuller, 'she cannot go now. The girl is ill and +it's such a long journey.' + +The postman came then with a letter for Uncle Eb. + +It was from David Brower. He would have to be gone a week or so +buying cattle and thought Uncle Eb had better come home as soon +as convenient. + +'They're lonesome,' he said, thoughtfully, after going over the +letter again. ''Tain't no wonder - they're gittin' old.' + +Uncle Eb was older than either of them but he had not thought of +that. + +'Le's see; 's about eight o clock,' said he, presently. 'I've got t'go +an' ten' to some business o' my own. I'll be back here sometime if day +Mis Fuller an' I'll hev if see thet girl. Ye musn't never try if keep +me 'way from her. She's sot on my knee too many year fer that - +altogether too many. + +We arranged to meet there at four. Then a servant brought us our +hats. I heard Hope calling as we passed the stairway: + +'Won't you come up a minute, Uncle Eb? I want to see you very +much.' + +Then Uncle Eb hurried upstairs and I came away. + +I read the advertisements of board and lodging - a perplexing task +for one so ignorant of the town. After many calls I found a place to +my liking on Monkey Hill, near Printing House Square. Monkey +Hill was the east end of William Street, and not in the least +fashionable. There were some neat and cleanly looking houses on +it of wood, and brick, and brown stone inhabited by small +tradesmen; a few shops, a big stable and the chalet sitting on a +broad, flat roof that covered a portion of the stableyard. The yard +itself was the summit of Monkey Hill. It lay between two brick +buildings and up the hill, from the walk, one looked into the +gloomy cavern of the stable and under the low roof, on one side7 +there were dump carts and old coaches in varying stages of +infirmity. There was an old iron shop, that stood flush with the +sidewalk, flanking the stableyard. A lantern and a mammoth key +were suspended above the door and hanging upon the side of the +shop was a wooden stair ascending to the chalet The latter had a +sheathing of weather-worn clapboards. It stood on the rear end of +the brick building, communicating with the front rooms above the +shop. A little stair of five steps ascended from the landing to its red +door that overlooked an ample yard of roofing, adorned with +potted plants. The main room of the chalet where we ate our meals +and sat and talked, of an evening, had the look of a ship's cabin. +There were stationary seats along the wall covered with leathern +cushions. There were port and starboard lanterns and a big one of +polished brass that overhung the table. A ship's clock that had a +noisy and cheerful tick, was set in the wall. A narrow passage led +to the room in front and the latter had slanting sides. A big window +of little panes, in its further end, let in the light of William Street +Here I found a home for myself, humble but quaint and cleanly. A +thrifty German who, having long followed the sea, had married +and thrown out his anchor for good and all, now dwelt in the chalet +with his wife and two boarders - both newspaper men. The old +shopkeeper in front, once a sailor himself, had put the place in +shipshape and leased it to them. + +Mine host bore the name of Opper and was widely known as 'All +Right' Opper, from his habit of cheery approval. Everything and +everybody were 'all right' to him so far as I could observe. If he +were blessed or damned he said 'all right . To be sure he took +exceptions, on occasions, but even then the affair ended with his +inevitable verdict of 'all right'. Every suggestion I made as to terms +of payment and arrangement of furniture was promptly stamped +with this seal of approval. + +I was comfortably settled and hard at work on my article by noon. +At four I went to meet Uncle Eb. Hope was still sick in bed and we +came away in a frame of mind that could hardly have been more +miserable. I tried to induce him to stay a night with me in my new +quarters. + +'I mus'n't,' he said cheerfully.' 'Fore long I'm comin' down ag'in +but I can't fool 'round no longer now. I'll jes'go n git my new +clothes and put fer the steamboat. Want ye t'go 'n see Hope +tomorrow. She's comm up with Mis Fuller next week. I'm goin' t' +find out what's the matter uv her then. Somethin's wrong +somewhere. Dunno what 'tis. She's all upsot. + +Poor girl! it had been almost as heavy a trial to her as to me' +cutting me off as she had done. Remembrances of my tender +devotion to her, in all the years between then and childhood, must +have made her sore with pity. I had already determined what I +should do, and after Uncle Eb had gone that evening I wrote her a +long letter and asked her if I might not still have some hope of her +loving me. I begged her to let me know when I might come and +talk with her alone. With what eloquence I could bring to bear I +told her how my love had grown and laid hold of my life. + +I finished my article that night and, in the morning, took it to Mr +Greeley. He was at his desk writing and at the same time giving +orders in a querulous tone to some workman who sat beside him. +He did not look up as he spoke. He wrote rapidly, his nose down so +close to the straggling, wet lines that I felt a fear of its touching +them. I stood by, waiting my opportunity. A full-bearded man in +his shirt-sleeves came hurriedly out of another room. + +'Mr Greeley,' he said, halting at the elbow of the great editor. + +'Yes, what is it?' the editor demanded nervously, his hand +wobbling over the white page, as rapidly as before, his eyes upon +his work. + +'Another man garrotted this morning on South Street. + +'Better write a paragraph,' he said, his voice snapping with +impatience as he brushed the full page aside and began sowing his +thoughts on another. 'Warn our readers. Tell 'em to wear brass +collars with spikes in 'em till we get a new mayor. + +The man went away laughing. + +Mr Greeley threw down his pen, gathered his copy and handed it to +the workman who sat beside him. + +'Proof ready at five!' he shouted as the man was going out of the +room. + +'Hello! Brower,' he said bending to his work again. 'Thought you d +blown out the gas somewhere. + +'Waiting until you reject this article,' I said. + +He sent a boy for Mr Ottarson, the city editor. Meanwhile he had +begun to drive his pen across the broadsheets with tremendous +energy. + +Somehow it reminded me of a man ploughing black furrows +behind a fast walking team in a snow flurry. His mind was 'straddle +the furrow' when Mr Ottarson came in. There was a moment of +silence in which the latter stood scanning a page of the Herald he +had brought with him. + +'Ottarson!' said Mr Greeley, never slacking the pace of his busy +hand, as he held my manuscript in the other, 'read this. Tell me +what you think of it. If good, give him a show. + +'The staff is full, Mr Greeley,' said the man of the city desk. His +words cut me with disappointment. + +The editor of the Tribune halted his hand an instant, read the last +lines, scratching a word and underscoring another. + +'Don't care!' he shrilled, as he went on writing. 'Used to slide +downhill with his father. If he's got brains we'll pay him eight +dollars a-week. + +The city editor beckoned to me and I followed him into another +room. + +'If you will leave your address,' he said, 'I will let you hear from +me when we have read the article. + +With the hasty confidence of youth I began to discount my future +that very day, ordering a full dress suit, of the best tailor, hat and +shoes to match and a complement of neck wear that would have +done credit to Beau Brummel. It gave me a start when I saw the +bill would empty my pocket of more than half its cash. But I had a +stiff pace to follow, and every reason to look my best. + + + +Chapter 32 + +I took a walk in the long twilight of that evening. As it began to +grow dark I passed the Fuller house and looked up at its windows. +Standing under a tree on the opposite side of the avenue I saw a +man come out of the door and walk away hurriedly with long +strides. I met him at the next corner. + +'Good-evening!' he said. + +I recognised then the voice and figure of John Trumbull. 'Been to +Fuller's,' said he. + +'How is Hope?' I asked. + +'Better,' said he. 'Walk with me? + +'With pleasure,' said I, and then he quickened his pace. + +We walked awhile in silence, going so fast! had hardly time to +speak, and the darkness deepened into night. We hurried along +through streets and alleys that were but dimly lighted, coming out +at length on a wide avenue passing through open fields in the +upper part of the city. Lights in cabin windows glowed on the hills +around us. I made some remark about them but he did not hear me. +He slackened pace in a moment and began whispering to himself' +I could not hear what he said. I thought of bidding him good-night +and returning but where were we and how could I find my way? +We heard a horse coming presently at a gallop. At the first loud +whack of the hoofs he turned suddenly and laying hold of my arm +began to run. I followed him into the darkness of the open field. It +gave me a spell of rare excitement for I thought at once of +highwaymen - having read so much of them in the Tribune. He +stopped suddenly and stooped low his hands touching the grass +and neither spoke until the horse had gone well beyond us. Then +he rose, stealthily, and looked about him in silence, even turning +his face to the dark sky where only a few stars were visible. + +'Well!' said he with a sort of grunt. 'Beats the devil! I thought it was +A wonderful thing was happening in the sky. A great double moon +seemed to be flying over the city hooded in purple haze. A little +spray of silver light broke out of it, as we looked, and shot +backward and then floated after the two shining disks that were +falling eastward in a long curve. They seemed to be so near I +thought they were coming down upon the city. It occurred to me +they must have some connection with the odd experience I had +gone through. In a moment they had passed out of sight. We were +not aware that we had witnessed a spectacle the like of which had +not been seen in centuries, if ever, since God made the heavens' +the great meteor of 1860. + +'Let's go back,' said Trumbull. 'We came too far. I forgot myself.' + +'Dangerous here?' I enquired. + +'Not at all,' said he, 'but a long way out of town - tired? + +'Rather,' I said, grateful for his evident desire to quiet my alarm. + +'Come!' said he as we came back to the pavement, his hand upon +my shoulder. 'Talk to me. Tell me - what are you going to do? + +We walked slowly down the deserted avenue, I, meanwhile, +talking of my pians. + +'You love. Hope,' he said presently. 'You will marry her? + +'If she will have me,' said I. + +'You must wait,' he said, 'time enough! + +He quickened his pace again as we came in sight of the scattering +shops and houses of the upper city and no other word was spoken. +On the corners we saw men looking into the sky and talking of the +fallen moon. It was late bedtime when we turned into Gramercy +Park. + +'Come in,' said he as he opened an iron gate. + +I followed him up a marble stairway and a doddering old English +butler opened the door for us. We entered a fine hall, its floor of +beautiful parquetry muffled with silken rugs. High and spacious +rooms were all aglow with light. + +He conducted me to a large smoking-room, its floor and walls +covered with trophies of the hunt - antlers and the skins of +carnivora. Here he threw off his coat and bade me be at home as +he lay down upon a wicker divan covered with the tawny skin of +some wild animal. He stroked the fur fondly with his hand. + +'Hello Jock!' he said, a greeting that mystified me. + +'Tried to eat me,' he added, turning to me. + +Then he bared his great hairy arm and showed me a lot of ugly +scars, I besought him to tell the story. + +'Killed him,' he answered. 'With a gun? + +'No - with my hands,' and that was all he would say of it. + +He lay facing a black curtain that covered a corner. Now and then I +heard a singular sound in the room - like some faint, far, night cry +such as I have heard often in the deep woods. It was so weird I felt +some wonder of it. Presently I could tell it came from behind the +curtain where, also, I heard an odd rustle like that of wings. + +I sat in a reverie, looking at the silent man before me, and in the +midst of it he pulled a cord that hung near him and a bell rang. + +'Luncheon!' he said to the old butler who entered immediately. + +Then he rose and showed me odd things, carved out of wood, by +his own hand as he told me, and with a delicate art. He looked at +one tiny thing and laid it aside quickly. + +'Can't bear to look at it now,' he said. + +'Gibbet?' I enquired. + +'Gibbet,' he answered. + +It was a little figure bound hand and foot and hanging from the +gallows tree. + +'Burn it!' he said, turning to the old servant and putting it in his +hands. Luncheon had been set between us, the while, and as we +were eating it the butler opened a big couch and threw snowy +sheets of linen over it and silken covers that rustled as they fell. + +'You will sleep there,' said my host as his servant laid the pillows, +'and well I hope. + +I thought I had better go to my own lodgings. + +'Too late - too late,' said he, and I, leg-weary and half-asleep, +accepted his proffer of hospitality. Then, having eaten, he left me +and I got into bed after turning the lights out Something woke me +in the dark of the night. There was a rustling sound in the room. I +raised my head a bit and listened. It was the black curtain that +hung in the corner. I imagined somebody striking it violently. I saw +a white figure standing near me in the darkness. It moved away as +I looked at it. A cold wind was blowing upon my face. I lay a long +time listening and by and by I could hear the deep voice of +Trumbull as if he were groaning and muttering in his sleep. When +it began to come light I saw the breeze from an open window was +stirring the curtain of silk in the corner. I got out of bed and, +peering behind the curtain, saw only a great white owl, caged and +staring out of wide eyes that gleamed fiery in the dim light. I went +to bed again, sleeping until my host woke me in the late morning. + +After breakfasting I went to the chalet. The postman had been +there but he had brought no letter from Hope. I waited about home, +expecting to hear from her, all that day, only to see it end in bitter +disappointment. + + + +Chapter 33 + +That very night, I looked in at the little shop beneath us and met +Riggs. It was no small blessing, just as I was entering upon dark +and unknown ways of life, to meet this hoary headed man with all +his lanterns. He would sell you anchors and fathoms of chain and +rope enough to hang you to the moon but his 'lights'were the great +attraction of Riggs s. He had every kind of lantern that had ever +swung on land or sea. After dark, when light was streaming out of +its open door and broad window Riggs's looked like the side of an +old lantern itself. It was a door, low and wide, for a time when +men had big round bellies and nothing to do but fill them and +heads not too far above their business. It was a window gone blind +with dust and cobwebs so it resembled the dim eye of age. If the +door were closed its big brass knocker and massive iron latch +invited the passer. An old ship's anchor and a coil of chain lay +beside it. Blocks and heavy bolts, steering wheels, old brass +compasses, coils of rope and rusty chain lay on the floor and +benches, inside the shop. There were rows of lanterns, hanging on +the bare beams. And there was Riggs. He sat by a dusty desk and +gave orders in a sleepy, drawling tone to the lad who served him. +An old Dutch lantern, its light softened with green glass, sent a +silver bean across the gloomy upper air of the shop that evening. +Riggs held an old un lantern with little streams of light bursting +through its perforated walls. He was blind, one would know it at a +glance. Blindness is so easy to be seen. Riggs was showing it to a +stranger. + +'Turn down the lights,' he said and the boy got his step-ladder and +obeyed him. + +Then he held it aloft in the dusk and the little lantern was like a +castle tower with many windows lighted, and, when he set it down, +there was a golden sprinkle on the floor as if something had +plashed into a magic pool of light there in the darkness. + +Riggs lifted the lantern, presently, and stood swinging it in his +hand. Then its rays were sown upon the darkness falling silently +into every nook and corner of the gloomy shop and breaking into +flowing dapples on the wall. + +'See how quick it is!' said he as the rays flashed with the speed of +lightning. 'That is the only traveller from Heaven that travels fast +enough to ever get to earth. + +Then came the words that had a mighty fitness for his tongue. + +'Hail, holy light! Offspring of Heaven first born. + +His voice rose and fell, riding the mighty rhythm of inspired song. +As he stood swinging the lantern, then, he reminded me of a +chanting priest behind the censer. In a moment he sat down, and, +holding the lantern between his knees, opened its door and felt the +candle. Then as the light streamed out upon his hands, he rubbed +them a time, silently, as if washing them in the bright flood. + +'One dollar for this little box of daylight,' he said. + +'Blind?' said the stranger as he paid him the money. + +'No,' said Riggs, 'only dreaming as you are. + +I wondered what he meant by the words 'dreaming as you are . + +'Went to bed on my way home to marry,' he continued, stroking his +long white beard, 'and saw the lights go out an' went asleep and it +hasn't come morning yet - that's what I believe. I went into a +dream. Think I'm here in a shop talking but I'm really in my bunk +on the good ship Arid coming home. Dreamed everything since +then - everything a man could think of. Dreamed I came home and +found Annie dead, dreamed of blindness, of old age, of poverty, of +eating and drinking and sleeping and of many people who pass like +dim shadows and speak to me - you are one of them. And +sometimes I forget I am dreaming and am miserable, and then I +remember and am happy. I know when the morning comes I shall +wake and laugh at all these phantoms. And I shall pack my things +and go up on deck, for we shall be in the harbour probably - ay! +maybe Annie and mother will be waving their hands on the dock! + +The old face had a merry smile as he spoke of the morning and all +it had for him. + +'Seems as if it had lasted a thousand years,' he continued, yawning +and rubbing his eyes. 'But I've dreamed the like before, and, my +God! how glad I felt when I woke in the morning. + +It gave me an odd feeling - this remarkable theory of the old man. I +thought then it would be better for most of us if we could think all +our misery a dream and have his faith in the morning - that it would +bring back the things we have lost. I had come to buy a lock for my +door, but I forgot my errand and sat down by Riggs while the +stranger went away with his lantern. + +'You see no reality in anything but happiness,' I said. + +'It's all a means to that end,' he answered. 'It is good for me, this +dream. I shall be all the happier when I do wake, and I shall love +Annie all the better, I suppose. + +'I wish I could take my ifi luck as a dream and have faith only in +good things,' I said. + +'All that is good shall abide,' said he, stroking his white beard, 'and +all evil shall vanish as the substance of a dream. In the end the +only realities are God and love and Heaven. To die is just like +waking up in the morning. + +'But I know I'm awake,' I said. + +'You think you are - that's a part of your dream. Sometimes I think +I'm awake - it all seems so real to me. But I have thought it out, +and I am the only man I meet that knows he is dreaming. When +you do wake, in the morning, you may remember how you thought +you came to a certain shop and made some words with a man as to +whether you were both dreaming, and you will laugh and tell your +friends about it. Hold on! I can feel the ship lurching. I believe I +am going to wake. + +He sat a moment leaning back in his chair with closed eyes, and a +silence fell upon us in the which I could hear only the faint ticking +of a tall clock that lifted its face out of the gloom beyond me. + +'You there?' he whispered presently. + +'I am here,' I said. + +'Odd!' he muttered. 'I know how it will be - I know how it has been +before. Generally come to some high place and a great fear seizes +me. I slip, I fall - fall - fall, and then I wake. + +After a little silence I heard him snoring heavily. He was still +leaning back in his chair. I walked on tiptoe to the door where the +boy stood looking out. + +'Crazy?' I whispered. + +'Dunno,' said he, smiling. + +I went to my room above and wrote my first tale, which was +nothing more or less than some brief account of what I had heard +and seen down at the little shop that evening. I mailed it next day +to the Knickerbocker, with stamps for return if unavailable. + + + +Chapter 34 + +New York was a crowded city, even then, but I never felt so lonely +anywhere outside a camp in the big woods, The last day of the first +week came, but no letter from Hope. To make an end of suspense I +went that Saturday morning to the home of the Fullers. The +equation of my value had dwindled sadly that week. Now a small +fraction would have stood for it - nay, even the square of it. + +Hope and Mrs Fuller had gone to Saratoga, the butler told me. I +came away with some sense of injury. I must try to be done with +Hope. There was no help for it. I must go to work at something and +cease to worry and lie awake of nights. But I had nothing to do but +read and walk and wait. No word had come to me from the +'Tribune' - evidently it was not languishing for my aid. That day +my tale was returned to me with thanks with nothing but thanks +printed in black type on a slip of paper - cold, formal, prompt, +ready-made thanks. And I, myself, was in about the same fix - +rejected with thanks - politely, firmly, thankfully rejected. For a +moment I felt like a man falling. I began to see there was no very +clamourous demand for me in 'the great emporium', as Mr Greeley +called it. I began to see, or thought I did, why Hope had shied at +my offer and was now shunning me. I went to the Tribune office. +Mr Greeley had gone to Washington; Mr Ottarson was too busy to +see me. I concluded that I would be willing to take a place on one +of the lesser journals. I spent the day going from one office to +another, but was rejected everywhere with thanks. I came home +and sat down to take account of stock. First, I counted my money, +of which there were about fifty dollars left. As to my talents, there +were none left. Like the pies at the Hillsborough tavern, if a man +came late to dinner - they were all out. I had some fine clothes, but +no more use for them than a goose for a peacock's feathers. I +decided to take anything honourable as an occupation, +even though it were not in one of the learned professions. I began +to answer advertisements and apply at business offices for +something to give me a living, but with no success. I began to feel +the selfishness of men. God pity the warm and tender heart of +youth when it begins to harden and grow chill, as mine did then; to +put away its cheery confidence forever; to make a new estimate of +itself and others. Look out for that time, O ye good people! that +have sons and daughters. + +I must say for myself that I had a mighty courage and no small +capital of cheerfulness. I went to try my luck with the newspapers +of Philadelphia, and there one of them kept me in suspense a week +to no purpose. When I came back reduced in cash and courage +Hope had sailed. + +There was a letter from Uncle Eb telling me when and by what +steamer they were to leave. 'She will reach there a Friday,' he +wrote, 'and would like to see you that evening at Fuller's'. + +I had waited in Philadelphia, hoping I might have some word, to +give her a better thought of me, and, that night, after such a climax +of ill luck, well - I had need of prayer for a wayward tongue. I sent +home a good account of my prospects. I could not bring myself to +report failure or send for more money. I would sooner have gone to +work in a scullery. + +Meanwhile my friends at the chalet were enough to keep me in +good cheer. There were William McClingan, a Scotchman of a +great gift of dignity and a nickname inseparably connected with his +fame. He wrote leaders for a big weekly and was known as Waxy +McClingan, to honour a pale ear of wax that took the place of a +member lost nobody could tell how. He drank deeply at times, but +never to the loss of his dignity or self possession. In his cups the +natural dignity of the man grew and expanded. One could tell the +extent of his indulgence by the degree of his dignity. Then his +mood became at once didactic and devotional. Indeed, I learned in +good time of the rumour that he had lost his ear in an argument +about the Scriptures over at Edinburgh. + +I remember he came an evening, soon after my arrival at the +chalet, when dinner was late. His dignity was at the full. He sat +awhile in grim silence, while a sense of injury grew in his bosom. + +'Mrs Opper,' said he, in a grandiose manner and voice that nicely +trilled the r's, 'in the fourth chapter and ninth verse of +Lamentations you will find these words - here he raised his voice a +bit and began to tap the palm of his left hand with the index finger +of his right, continuing: "They that be slain with the sword are +better than they that be slain with hunger. For these pine away +stricken through want of the fruits of the field." Upon my honour +as a gentleman, Mrs Opper, I was never so hungry in all my life.' + +The other boarder was a rather frail man with an easy cough and a +confidential manner, lie wrote the 'Obituaries of Distinguished +Persons' for one of the daily papers. Somebody had told him once, +his head resembled that of Washington. He had never forgotten it, +as I have reason to remember. His mind lived ever among the +dead. His tongue was pickled in maxims; his heart sunk in the +brine of recollection; his humour not less unconscious and familiar +than that of an epitaph; his name was Lemuel Framdin Force. To +the public of his native city he had introduced Webster one fourth +of July - a perennial topic of his lighter moments. + +I fell an easy victim to the obituary editor that first evening in the +chalet. We had risen from the table and he came and held me a +moment by the coat lapel. He released my collar, when he felt sure +of me, and began tapping my chest with his forefinger to drive +home his point I stood for quite an hour out of sheer politeness. By +that time he had me forced to the wall - a God's mercy, for there I +got some sense of relief in the legs. His gestures, in imitation of +the great Webster, put my head in some peril. Meanwhile he +continued drumming upon my chest. I looked longingly at the +empty chairs. I tried to cut him off with applause that should be +condusive and satisfying, but with no success. It had only a +stimulating effect. I felt somehow like a cheap hired man badly +overworked. I had lost all connection. I looked, and smiled, and +nodded, and exclaimed, and heard nothing. I began to plan a +method of escape. McClingan - the great and good Waxy +McClingan - came out of his room presently and saw my plight. + +'What is this?' he asked, interrupting, 'a serial stawry? + +Getting no answer he called my name, and when Force had paused +he came near. + +'In the sixth chapter and fifth verse of Proverbs,' said he, 'it is +written: + +"Deliver thyself as a roe from the hand of the hunter and as a bird +from the hand of the fowler." Deliver thyself, Brower. + +I did so, ducking under Force's arm and hastening to my chamber. + +'Ye have a brawling, busy tongue, man,' I heard McClingan saying. +'By the Lord! ye should know a dull tongue is sharper than a +serpent's tooth. + +'You are a meddlesome fellow,' said Force. + +'If I were you,' said McClingan, 'I would go and get for myself the +long ear of an ass and empty my memory into it every day. Try it, +man. Give it your confidence exclusively. Believe me, my dear +Force, you would win golden opinions. + +'It would be better than addressing an ear of wax,' said Force, +hurriedly withdrawing to his own room. + +This answer made McClingan angry. + +'Better an ear of wax than a brain of putty,' he called after him. +'Blessed is he that hath no ears when a fool's tongue is busy,' and +then strode up and down the floor, muttering ominously. + +I came out of my room shortly, and then he motioned me aside. + +'Pull your own trigger first, man,' he said to me in a low tone. +'When ye see he's going to shoot pull your own trigger first. Go +right up if him and tap him on the chest quiddy and say, "My dear +Force, I have a glawrious stawry to tell you," and keep tapping +him- his own trick, you know, and he can't complain. Now he has +a weak chest, and when he begins to cough - man, you are saved. + +Our host, Opper, entered presently, and in removing the tablecloth +inadvertently came between us. McClingan resented it promptly. + +'Mr Opper,' said he, leering at the poor German, 'as a matter of +personal obligement, will you cease to interrupt us? + +'All right! all right! gentlemens,' he replied, and then, fearing that +he had not quite squared himself, turned back, at the kitchen door, +and added, 'Oxcuse me. + +McClingan looked at him with that leering superior smile of his, +and gave him just the slightest possible nod of his head. + +McClingan came into my room with me awhile then. He had been +everywhere, it seemed to me, and knew everybody worth knowing. +I was much interested in his anecdotes of the great men of the +time. Unlike the obituary editor his ear was quite as ready as his +tongue, though I said little save now and then to answer a question +that showed a kindly interest in me. + +I went with him to his room at last, where he besought me to join +him in drinking 'confusion to the enemies of peace and order'. On +my refusing, he drank the toast alone and shortly proposed 'death +to slavery'. This was followed in quick succession by 'death to the +arch traitor, Buchanan'; 'peace to the soul of John Brown'; 'success +to Honest Abe' and then came a hearty 'here's to the protuberant +abdomen of the Mayor'. + +I left him at midnight standing in the middle of his room and +singing 'The Land o' the Leal' in a low tone savoured with vast +dignity. + + + +Chapter 35 + +I was soon near out of money and at my wit's end, but my will was +unconquered. In this plight I ran upon Fogarty, the policeman who +had been the good angel of my one hopeful day in journalism. His +manner invited my confidence. + +'What luck?' said he. + +'Bad luck' I answered. 'Only ten dollars in my pocket and nothing +to do.' + +He swung his stick thoughtfully. + +'If I was you,' said he, 'I'd take anything honest. Upon me wurred, +I'd ruther pound rocks than lay idle.' + +'So would I.' + +'Wud ye?' said he with animation, as he took my measure from +head to foot. + +'I'll do anything that's honest.' + +'Ah ha!' said he, rubbing his sandy chin whiskers. 'Don't seem like +ye'd been used if hard wurruk.' + +'But I can do it,' I said. + +He looked at me sternly and beckoned with his head. + +'Come along,' said he. + +He took me to a gang of Irishmen working in the street near by. + +'Boss McCormick!' he shouted. + +A hearty voice answered, 'Aye, aye, Counsellor,' and McCormick +came out of the crowd, using his shovel for a staff. + +'A happy day if ye!' said Fogarty. + +'Same if youse an' manny o' thim,' said McCormick. + +'Ye'll gi'me one if ye do me a favour,' said Fogarty. + +'An' what?' said the other. + +'A job for this lad. Wull ye do it?' + +'I wall,' said McCormick, and he did. + +I went to work early the next morning, with nothing on but my +underclothing and trousers, save a pair of gloves, that excited the +ridicule of my fellows. With this livery and the righteous +determination of earning two dollars a day, I began the inelegant +task of 'pounding rocks no merry occupation, I assure you, for a +hot summer's day on Manhattan Island. + +We were paving Park Place and we had to break stone and lay +them and shovel dirt and dig with a pick and crowbar. + +My face and neck were burned crimson when we quit work at five, +and I went home with a feeling of having been run over by the +cars. I had a strong sense of soul and body, the latter dominated by +a mighty appetite. McClingan viewed me at first with suspicion in +which there was a faint flavour of envy. He invited me at once to +his room, and was amazed at seeing it was no lark. I told him +frankly what I was doing and why and where. + +'I would not mind the loaning of a few dollars,' he said, 'as a matter +o' personal obligement I would be most happy to do it - most +happy, Brower, indeed I would.' + +I thanked him cordially, but declined the favour, for at home they +had always taught me the danger of borrowing, and I was bound to +have it out with ill luck on my own resources. + +'Greeley is back,' said he, 'and I shall see him tomorrow. I will put +him in mind o'you.' + +I went away sore in the morning, but with no drooping spirit. In the +middle of the afternoon I straightened up a moment to ease my +back and look about me. + +There at the edge of the gang stood the great Horace Greeley and +Waxy McClingan. The latter beckoned me as he caught my eye. +I went aside to greet them. Mr Greeley gave me his hand. + +'Do you mean to tell me that you'd rather work than beg or +borrow?' said he. + +'That's about it,' I answered. + +'And ain't ashamed of it? + +'Ashamed! Why?' said I, not quite sure of his meaning. It had never +occurred to me that one had any cause to be ashamed of working. + +He turned to McClingan and laughed. + +'I guess you'll do for the Tribune,' he said. 'Come and see me at +twelve tomorrow. + +And then they went away. + +If I had been a knight of the garter I could not have been treated +with more distinguished courtesy by those hard-handed men the +rest of the day. I bade them goodbye at night and got my order for +four dollars. One Pat Devlin, a great-hearted Irishman, who had +shared my confidence and some of my doughnuts on the curb at +luncheon time, I remember best of all. + +'Ye'll niver fergit the toime we wurruked together under Boss +McCormick,' said he. + +And to this day, whenever I meet the good man, now bent and +grey, he says always, 'Good-day if ye, Mr Brower. D'ye mind the +toime we pounded the rock under Boss McCormick? + +Mr Greeley gave me a place at once on the local staff and invited +me to dine with him at his home that evening. Meanwhile he sent +me to the headquarters of the Republican Central Campaign +Committee, on Broadway, opposite the New York Hotel. Lincoln +had been nominated in May, and the great political fight of 1860 +was shaking the city with its thunders. + +I turned in my copy at the city desk in good season, and, although +the great editor had not yet left his room, I took a car at once to +keep my appointment. A servant showed me to a seat in the big +back parlour of Mr Greeley's home, where I spent a lonely hour +before I heard his heavy footsteps in the hail. He immediately +rushed upstairs, two steps at a time, and, in a moment, I heard his +high voice greeting the babies. He came down shortly with one of +them clinging to his hand. + +'Thunder!' said he, 'I had forgotten all about you. Let's go right +in to dinner. + +He sat at the head of the table and I next to him. I remember how, +wearied by the day's burden, he sat, lounging heavily, in careless +attitudes. He stirred his dinner into a hash of eggs, potatoes, squash +and parsnips, and ate it leisurely with a spoon, his head braced +often with his left forearm, its elbow resting on the table. It was a +sort of letting go, after the immense activity of the day, and a +casual observer would have thought he affected the uncouth, +which was not true of him. + +He asked me to tell him all about my father and his farm. At length +I saw an absent look in his eye, and stopped talking, because I +thought he had ceased to listen. + +'Very well! very well!' said he. + +I looked up at him, not knowing what he meant. + +'Go on! Tell me all about it,' he added. + +'I like the country best,' said he, when I had finished, 'because there +I see more truth in things. Here the lie has many forms - unique, +varied, ingenious. The rouge and powder on the lady's cheek - they +are lies, both of them; the baronial and ducal crests are lies and the +fools who use them are liars; the people who soak themselves in +rum have nothing but lies in their heads; the multitude who live by +their wits and the lack of them in others - they are all liars; the +many who imagine a vain thing and pretend to be what they are +not liars everyone of them. It is bound to be so in the great cities, +and it is a mark of decay. The skirts of Elegabalus, the wigs and +rouge pots of Madame Pompadour, the crucifix of Machiavelli and +the innocent smile of Fernando Wood stand for something horribly +and vastly false in the people about them. For truth you ve got to +get back into the woods. You can find men there a good deal as +God made them' genuine, strong and simple. When those men +cease to come here you'll see grass growing in Broadway. + +I made no answer and the great commoner stirred his coffee a +moment in silence. + +'Vanity is the curse of cities,' he continued, 'and Flattery is its +handmaiden. Vanity, flattery and Deceit are the three disgraces. I +like a man to be what he is - out and out. If he's ashamed of +himself it won't be long before his friends'll be ashamed of him. +There's the trouble with this town. Many a fellow is pretending to +be what he isn't. A man cannot be strong unless he is genuine. + +One of his children - a little girl - came and stood close to him as +he spoke. He put his big arm around her and that gentle, permanent +smile of his broadened as he kissed her and patted her red cheek. + +'Anything new in the South?' Mrs Greeley enquired. + +'Worse and worse every day,' he said. 'Serious trouble coming! +The Charleston dinner yesterday was a feast of treason and a flow +of criminal rhetoric. The Union was the chief dish. Everybody +slashed it with his knife and jabbed it with his fork. It was +slaughtered, roasted, made into mincemeat and devoured. One +orator spoke of "rolling back the tide of fanaticism that finds its +root in the conscience of the people." Their metaphors are as bad +as their morals. + +He laughed heartily at this example of fervid eloquence, and then +we rose from the table. He had to go to the office that evening, and +I came away soon after dinner. I had nothing to do and went home +reflecting upon all the great man had said. + +I began shortly to see the truth of what he had told me - men +licking the hand of riches with the tongue of flattery men so +stricken with the itch of vanity that they grovelled for the touch of +praise; men even who would do perjury for applause. I do not say +that most of the men I saw were of that ilk, but enough to show the +tendency of life in a great town. + +I was filled with wonder at first by meeting so many who had been +everywhere and seen everything, who had mastered all sciences +and all philosophies and endured many perils on land and sea. I +had met liars before - it was no Eden there in the north country - +and some of them had attained a good degree of efficiency, but +they lacked the candour and finish of the metropolitan school. I +confess they were all too much for me at first. They borrowed my +cash, they shared my confidence, they taxed my credulity, and I +saw the truth at last. + +'Tom's breaking down,' said a co-labourer on the staff one day. +'How is that?' I enquired. + +'Served me a mean trick.' + +'Indeed!' + +'Deceived me,' said he sorrowfully. + +'Lied, I suppose?' + +'No. He told the truth, as God's my witness.' + +Tom had been absolutely reliable up to that time. + + + +Chapter 36 + +Those were great days in mid autumn. The Republic was in grave +peril of dissolution. Liberty that had hymned her birth in the last +century now hymned her destiny in the voices of bard and orator. +Crowds of men gathered in public squares, at bulletin boards, on +street corners arguing, gesticulating, exclaiming and cursing. +Cheering multitudes went up and down the city by night, with +bands and torches, and there was such a howl of oratory and +applause on the lower half of Manhattan Island that it gave the +reporter no rest. William H. Seward, Charles Sumner, John A. Dix, +Henry Ward Beecher and Charles O'Connor were the giants of the +stump. There was more violence and religious fervour in the +political feeling of that time than had been mingled since '76. A +sense of outrage was in the hearts of men. 'Honest Abe' Lincoln +stood, as they took it, for their homes and their country, for human +liberty and even for their God. + +I remember coming into the counting-room late one evening. Loud +voices had halted me as I passed the door. Mr Greeley stood back +of the counter; a rather tall, wiry grey-headed man before it. Each +was shaking a right fist under the other's nose. They were shouting +loudly as they argued. The stranger was for war; Mr Greeley for +waiting. The publisher of the Tribune stood beside the latter, +smoking a pipe; a small man leaned over the counter at the +stranger's elbow, putting in a word here and there; half a dozen +people stood by, listening. Mr Greeley turned to his publisher in a +moment. + +'Rhoades,' said he, 'I wish ye'd put these men out. They holler 'n +yell, so I can't hear myself think. + +Then there was a general laugh. + +I learned to my surprise, when they had gone, that the tall man was +William H. Seward, the other John A. Dix. + +Then one of those fevered days came the Prince of Wales - a +Godsend, to allay passion with curiosity. + +It was my duty to handle some of 'the latest news by magnetic +telegraph', and help to get the plans and progress of the campaign +at headquarters. The Printer, as they called Mr Greeley, was at his +desk when I came in at noon, never leaving the office but for +dinner, until past midnight, those days. And he made the Tribune a +mighty power in the state. His faith in its efficacy was sublime, +and every line went under his eye before it went to his readers. I +remember a night when he called me to his office about twelve o +clock. He was up to his knees in the rubbish of the day-newspapers +that he had read and thrown upon the floor; his desk was littered +with proofs. + +'Go an' see the Prince o' Wales,' he said. (That interesting young +man had arrived on the Harriet Lane that morning and ridden up +Broadway between cheering hosts.) 'I've got a sketch of him here +an' it's all twaddle. Tell us something new about him. If he's got +a hole in his sock we ought to know it.' + +Mr Dana came in to see him while I was there. + +'Look here, Dana,' said the Printer, in a rasping humour. 'By the +gods of war! here's two columns about that performance at the +Academy and only two sticks of the speech of Seward at St Paul. +I'll have to get someone if go an' burn that theatre an' send +the bill to me. + +In the morning Mayor Wood introduced me to the Duke of +Newcastle, who in turn presented me to the Prince of Wales - then +a slim, blue-eyed youngster of nineteen, as gentle mannered as any I +have ever met. It was my unpleasant duty to keep as near as +possible to the royal party in all the festivities of that week. + +The ball, in the Prince's honour, at the Academy of Music, was +one of the great social events of the century. No fair of vanity in +the western hemisphere ever quite equalled it. The fashions of the +French Court had taken the city, as had the Prince, by +unconditional surrender. Not in the palace of Versailles could one +have seen a more generous exposure of the charms of fair women. +None were admitted without a low-cut bodice, and many came that +had not the proper accessories. But it was the most brilliant +company New York had ever seen. + +Too many tickets had been distributed and soon 'there was an +elbow on every rib and a heel on every toe', as Mr Greeley put it. +Every miss and her mamma tiptoed for a view of the Prince and +his party, who came in at ten, taking their seats on a dais at one +side of the crowded floor. The Prince sat with his hands folded +before him, like one in a reverie. Beside him were the Duke of +Newcastle, a big, stern man, with an aggressive red beard; the +blithe and sparkling Earl of St Germans, then Steward of the Royal +Household; the curly Major Teasdale; the gay Bruce, a +major-general, who behaved himself always like a lady. Suddenly +the floor sank beneath the crowd of people, who retired in some +disorder. Such a compression of crinoline was never seen as at that +moment, when periphery pressed upon periphery, and held many a +man captive in the cold embrace of steel and whalebone. The royal +party retired to its rooms again and carpenters came in with saws +and hammers. The floor repaired, an area was roped off for +dancing - as much as could be spared. The Prince opened the +dance with Mrs Governor Morgan, after which other ladies were +honoured with his gallantry. + +I saw Mrs Fuller in one of the boxes and made haste to speak with +her. She had just landed, having left Hope to study a time in the +Conservatory of Leipzig. + +'Mrs Livingstone is with her,' said she, 'and they will return +together in April. + +'Mrs Fuller, did she send any word to me?' I enquired anxiously. +'Did she give you no message? + +'None,' she said coldly, 'except one to her mother and father, which +I have sent in a letter to them. + +I left her heavy hearted, went to the reporter's table and wrote my +story, very badly I must admit, for I was cut deep with sadness. +Then I came away and walked for hours, not caring whither. A +great homesickness had come over me. I felt as if a talk with Uncle +Eb or Elizabeth Brower would have given me the comfort I needed. I +walked rapidly through dark, deserted streets. A steeple clock was +striking two, when I heard someone coming hurriedly on the walk +behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but could not make him out in +the darkness, and yet there was something familiar in the step. As he +came near I felt his hand upon my shoulder. + +'Better go home, Brower,' he said, as I recognised the voice of +Trumbull. 'You've been out a long time. Passed you before tonight.' + +'Why didn't you speak?' + +'You were preoccupied.' + +'Not keeping good hours yourself,' I said. + +'Rather late,' he answered, 'but I am a walker, and I love the night. +It is so still in this part of the town.' + +We were passing the Five Points. + +'When do you sleep,' I enquired. + +'Never sleep at night,' he said, 'unless uncommonly tired. Out every +night more or less. Sleep two hours in the morning and two in the +afternoon - that's all I require. Seen the hands o' that clock yonder +on every hour of the night.' + +He pointed to a lighted dial in a near tower. + +Stopping presently he looked down at a little waif asleep in a +doorway, a bundle of evening papers under his arm. He lifted him +tenderly. + +'Here, boy,' he said, dropping corns in the pocket of the ragged +little coat, 'I'll take those papers - you go home now. + +We walked to the river, passing few save members of 'the force , +who always gave Trumbull a cheery 'hello, Cap!' We passed +wharves where the great sea horses lay stalled, with harnesses +hung high above them, their noses nodding over our heads; we +stood awhile looking up at the looming masts, the lights of the +river craft. + +'Guess I've done some good,' said he turning into Peck Slip. 'Saved +two young women. Took 'em off the streets. Fine women now both +of them - respectable, prosperous, and one is beautiful. Man who s +got a mother, or a sister, can't help feeling sorry for such people. + +We came up Frankfort to William Street where we shook hands +and parted and I turned up Monkey Hill. I had made unexpected +progress with Trumbull that night. He had never talked to me so +freely before and somehow he had let me come nearer to hun than +I had ever hoped to be. His company had lifted me out of the +slough a little and my mind was on a better footing as I neared the +chalet. + +Riggs's shop was lighted - an unusual thing at so late an hour. +Peering through the window I saw Riggs sleeping at his desk An +old tin lantern sat near, its candle burning low, with a flaring +flame, that threw a spray of light upon him as it rose and fell. Far +back in the shop another light was burning dimly. I lifted the big +iron latch and pushed the door open. Riggs did not move. I closed +the door softly and went back into the gloom. The boy was also +sound asleep in his chair. The lantern light flared and fell again as +water leaps in a stopping fountain. As it dashed upon the face of +Riggs I saw his eyes half-open. I went close to his chair. As I did +so the light went out and smoke rose above the lantern with a rank +odour. + +'Riggs!' I called but he sat motionless and made no answer. + +The moonlight came through the dusty window lighting his face +and beard. I put my hand upon his brow and withdrew it quicidy. I +was in the presence of death. I opened the door and called the +sleeping boy. He rose out of his chair and came toward me rubbing +his eyes. + +'Your master is dead,' I whispered, 'go and call an officer. + +Riggs's dream was over - he had waked at last. He was in port and +I doubt not Annie and his mother were hailing him on the shore, +for I knew now they had both died far back in that long dream of +the old sailor. + +My story of Riggs was now complete. It soon found a publisher +because it was true. + +'All good things are true in literature,' said the editor after he had +read it. 'Be a servant of Truth always and you will be successful.' + + + +Chapter 37 + +As soon as Lincoln was elected the attitude of the South showed +clearly that 'the irrepressible conflict', of Mr Seward's naming, had +only just begun. The Herald gave columns every day to the news of +'the coming Revolution', as it was pleased to call it. There was +loud talk of war at and after the great Pine Street meeting of +December 15. South Carolina seceded, five days later, and then we +knew what was coming, albeit, we saw only the dim shadow of +that mighty struggle that was to shake the earth for nearly five +years. The Printer grew highly irritable those days and spoke of +Buchanan and Davis and Toombs in language so violent it could +never have been confined in type. But while a bitter foe none was +more generous than he and, when the war was over, his money +went to bail the very man he had most roundly damned. + +I remember that one day, when he was sunk deep in composition, a +negro came and began with grand airs to make a request as +delegate from his campaign club. The Printer sat still, his eyes +close to the paper, his pen flying at high speed. The coloured +orator went on lifting his voice in a set petition. Mr Greeley bent to +his work as the man waxed eloquent. A nervous movement now +and then betrayed the Printer's irritation. He looked up, shortly, his +face kindling with anger. + +'Help! For God's sake!' he shrilled impatiently, his hands flying in +the air. The Printer seemed to be gasping for breath. + +'Go and stick your head out of the window and get through,' he +shouted hotly to the man. + +He turned to his writing - a thing dearer to him than a new bone to +a hungry dog. + +'Then you may come and tell me what you want,' he added in a +milder tone. + +Those were days when men said what they meant and their +meaning had more fight in it than was really polite or necessary. +Fight was in the air and before I knew it there was a wild, +devastating spirit in my own bosom, insomuch that I made haste to +join a local regiment. It grew apace but not until I saw the first +troops on their way to the war was I fully determined to go and +give battle with my regiment. + +The town was afire with patriotism. Sumter had fallen; Lincoln +had issued his first call. The sound of the fife and drum rang in the +streets. Men gave up work to talk and listen or go into the sterner +business of war. Then one night in April, a regiment came out of +New England, on its way to the front. It lodged at the Astor House +to leave at nine in the morning. Long before that hour the building +was flanked and fronted with tens of thousands, crowding +Broadway for three blocks, stuffing the wide mouth of Park Row +and braced into Vesey and Barday Streets. My editor assigned me +to this interesting event. I stood in the crowd, that morning, and +saw what was really the beginning of the war in New York. There +was no babble of voices, no impatient call, no sound of idle jeering +such as one is apt to hear in a waiting crowd. It stood silent, each +man busy with the rising current of his own emotions, solemnified +by the faces all around him. The soldiers filed out upon the +pavement, the police having kept a way clear for them, Still there +was silence in the crowd save that near me I could hear a man +sobbing. A trumpeter lifted his bugle and sounded a bar of the +reveille. The clear notes clove the silent air, flooding every street +about us with their silver sound. Suddenly the band began playing. +The tune was Yankee Doodle. A wild, dismal, tremulous cry came +out of a throat near me. It grew and spread to a mighty roar and +then such a shout went up to Heaven, as I had never heard, and as I +know full well I shall never hear again. It was like the riving of +thunderbolts above the roar of floods - elemental, prophetic, +threatening, ungovernable. It did seem to me that the holy wrath of +God Almighty was in that cry of the people. It was a signal. It +declared that they were ready to give all that a man may give for +that he loves - his life and things far dearer to him than his life. +After that, they and their sons begged for a chance to throw +themselves into the hideous ruin of war. + +I walked slowly back to the office and wrote my article. When the +Printer came in at twelve I went to his room before he had had +time to begin work. + +'Mr Greeley,' I said, 'here is my resignation. I am going to the war.' + +His habitual smile gave way to a sober look as he turned to me, his +big white coat on his arm. He pursed his lips and blew +thoughtfully. Then he threw his coat in a chair and wiped his eyes +with his handkerchief. + +'Well! God bless you, my boy,' he said. 'I wish I could go, too.' + + + +Chapter 38 + +I worked some weeks before my regiment was sent forward. I +planned to be at home for a day, but they needed me on the staff, +and I dreaded the pain of a parting, the gravity of which my return +would serve only to accentuate. So I wrote them a cheerful letter, +and kept at work. It was my duty to interview some of the great +men of that day as to the course of the government. I remember +Commodore Vanderbilt came down to see me in shirt-sleeves and +slippers that afternoon, with a handkerchief tied about his neck in +place of a collar - a blunt man, of simple manners and a big heart, +one who spoke his mind in good, plain talk, and, I suppose, he got +along with as little profanity as possible, considering his many +cares. He called me 'boy' and spoke of a certain public man as a +'big sucker'. I soon learned that to him a 'sucker' was the lowest +and meanest thing in the world. He sent me away with nothing but +a great admiration of him. As a rule, the giants of that day were +plain men of the people, with no frills upon them, and with a way +of hitting from the shoulder. They said what they meant and meant +it hard. I have heard Lincoln talk when his words had the whiz of a +bullet and his arm the jerk of a piston. + +John Trumbull invited McClingan, of whom I had told him much, +and myself to dine with him an evening that week. I went in my +new dress suit - that mark of sinful extravagance for which Fate +had brought me down to the pounding of rocks under Boss +McCormick. Trumbull's rooms were a feast for the eye - aglow +with red roses. He introduced me to Margaret Hull and her mother, +who were there to dine with us. She was a slight woman of thirty +then, with a face of no striking beauty, but of singular sweetness. +Her dark eyes had a mild and tender light in them; her voice a +plaintive, gentle tone, the like of which one may hear rarely if +ever. For years she had been a night worker in the missions of the +lower city, and many an unfortunate had been turned from the way +of evil by her good offices. I sat beside her at the table, and she +told me of her work and how often she had met Trumbull in his +night walks. + +'Found me a hopeless heathen,' he remarked. + +'To save him I had to consent to marry him,' she said, laughing. + +'"Who hath found love is already in Heaven,"'said McClingan. 'I +have not found it and I am in'' he hesitated, as if searching for a +synonym. + +'A boarding house on William Street,' he added. + +The remarkable thing about Margaret Hull was her simple faith. It +looked to no glittering generality for its reward, such as the soul s +'highest good much talked of in the philosophy of that time. She +believed that, for every soul she saved, one jewel would be added +to her crown in Heaven. And yet she wore no jewel upon her +person. Her black costume was beautifully fitted to her fine form, +but was almost severely plain. It occurred to me that she did not +quite understand her own heart, and, for that matter, who does? +But she had somewhat in her soul that passeth all understanding - I +shall not try to say what, with so little knowledge of those high +things, save that I know it was of God. To what patience and +unwearying effort she had schooled herself I was soon to know. + +'Can you not find anyone to love you?' she said, turning to +McClingan. 'You know the Bible says it is not good for man to live +alone. + +'It does, Madame,' said he, 'but I have a mighty fear in me, +remembering the twenty-fourth verse of the twenty-fifth chapter of +Proverbs: "It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetops than +with a brawling woman in a wide house." We cannot all be so +fortunate as our friend Trumbull. But I have felt the great passion. + +He smiled at her faintly as he spoke in a quiet manner, his r s +coming off his tongue with a stately roll. His environment and the +company had given him a fair degree of stimulation. There was a +fine dignity in his deep voice, and his body bristled with it, from +his stiff and heavy shock of blonde hair parted carefully on the left +side, to his high-heeled boots. The few light hairs that stood in +lonely abandonment on his upper lip, the rest of his lean visage +always well shorn, had no small part in the grand effect of +McClingan. + +'A love story!' said Miss Hull. 'I do wish I had your confidence. I +like a real, true love story. + +'A simple stawry it is,' said McClingan, 'and Jam proud of my part +in it. I shall be glad to tell the stawry if you are to hear it.' + +We assured him of our interest. + +'Well,' said he, 'there was one Tom Douglass at Edinburgh who +was my friend and classmate. We were together a good bit of the +time, and when we had come to the end of our course we both +went to engage in journalism at Glasgow. We had a mighty conceit +of ourselves - you know how it is, Brower, with a green lad - but +we were a mind to be modest, with all our learning, so we made an +agreement: I would blaw his horn and he would blaw mine. We +were not to lack appreciation. He was on one paper and I on +another, and every time he wrote an article I went up and down the +office praising him for a man o' mighty skill, and he did the same +for me. If anyone spoke of him in my hearing I said every word of +flattery at my command. "What Tom Douglass?" I would say, "the +man o' the Herald that's written those wonderful articles from the +law court? A genius, sir! an absolute genius!" Well, we were +rapidly gaining reputation. One of those days I found myself in +love with as comely a lass as ever a man courted. Her mother had a +proper curiosity as to my character. I referred them to Tom +Douglass of the Herald - he was the only man there who had +known me well. The girl and her mother both went to him. + +"Your friend was just here," said the young lady, when I called +again. "He is a very handsome man." + +'"And a noble man!" I said. + +'"And didn't I hear you say that he was a very skilful man, too?" + +'"A genius!" I answered, "an absolute genius!" + +McClingan stopped and laughed heartily as he took a sip of water. + +'What happened then?' said Miss I-lull. + +'She took him on my recommendation,' he answered. 'She said +that, while he had the handsomer face, I had the more eloquent +tongue. And they both won for him. And, upon me honour as a +gentleman, it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, for +she became a brawler and a scold. My mother says there is "no the +like o' her in Scotland". + +I shall never forget how fondly Margaret Hull patted the brown +cheek of Trumbull with her delicate white band, as we rose. + +'We all have our love stawries,' said McClingan. + +'Mine is better than yours,' she answered, 'but it shall never be told.' + +'Except one little part if it,' said Trumbull, as he put his hands +upon her shoulders, and looked down into her face. 'It is the only +thing that has made my life worth living.' + +Then she made us to know many odd things about her work for the +children of misfortune - inviting us to come and see it for +ourselves. We were to go the next evening. + +I finished my work at nine that night and then we walked through +noisome streets and alleys - New York was then far from being so +clean a city as now - to the big mission house. As we came in at +the door we saw a group of women kneeling before the altar at the +far end of the room, and heard the voice of Margaret Hull praying' +a voice so sweet and tender that we bowed our heads at once, and +listened while it quickened the life in us. She plead for the poor +creatures about her, to whom Christ gave always the most +abundant pity, seeing they were more sinned against than sinning. +There was not a word of cant in her petition. It was full of a +simple, unconscious eloquence, a higher feeling than I dare try to +define. And when it was over she had won their love and +confidence so that they clung to her hands and kissed them and +wet them with their tears. She came and spoke to us presently, in +the same sweet manner that had charmed us the night before' +there was no change in it We offered to walk home with her, but +she said Trumbull was coming at twelve. + +'So that is "The Little Mother" of whom I have heard so often,' said +McClingan, as we came away. + +'What do you think of her?' I enquired. + +'Wonderful woman!' he said. 'I never heard such a voice. It gives +me visions. Every other is as the crackling of thorns under a pot.' + +I came back to the office and went into Mr Greeley's room to bid +him goodbye. He stood by the gas jet, in a fine new suit of clothes, +reading a paper, while a boy was blacking one of his boots. I sat +down, awaiting a more favourable moment. A very young man had +come into the room and stood timidly holding his hat. + +'I wish to see Mr Greeley,' he said. + +'There he is,' I answered, 'go and speak to him.' + +'Mr Greeley,' said he, 'I have called to see if you can take me on +the Tribune.' + +The Printer continued reading as if he were the only man in the +room. + +The young man looked at him and then at me - with an expression +that moved me to a fellow feeling. He was a country boy, more +green and timid even than I had been. + +'He did not hear you - try again,' I said. + +'Mr Greeley,' said he, louder than before, 'I have called to see if +you can take me on the Tribune.' + +The editor's eyes glanced off at the boy and returned to their +reading. + +'No, boy, I can't,' he drawled, shifting his eyes to another article. +And the boy, who was called to the service of the paper in time, +but not until after his pen had made him famous, went away with a +look of bitter disappointment. + +In his attire Mr Greeley wore always the best material, that soon +took on a friendless and dejected look. The famous white overcoat +had been bought for five dollars of a man who had come by chance +to the office of the New Yorker, years before, and who considered +its purchase a great favour. That was a time when the price of a +coat was a thing of no little importance to the Printer. Tonight +there was about him a great glow, such as comes of fine tailoring +and new linen. + +He was so preoccupied with his paper that I went out into the big +room and sat down, awaiting a better time. + +'The Printer's going to Washington to talk with the president,' said +an editor. + +Just then Mr Greeley went running hurriedly up the spiral stair on +his way to the typeroom. Three or four compositors had gone up +ahead of him. He had risen out of sight when we heard a +tremendous uproar above stairs. I ran up, two steps at a time, while +the high voice of Mr Greeley came pouring down upon me like a +flood. It had a wild, fleering tone. He stood near the landing, +swinging his arms and swearing like a boy just learning how. In +the middle of the once immaculate shirt bosom was a big, yellow +splash. Something had fallen on him and spattered as it struck We +stood well out of range, looking at it, undeniably the stain of +nicotine. In a voice that was no encouragement to confession he +dared 'the drooling idiot' to declare himself. In a moment he +opened his waistcoat and surveyed the damage. + +'Look at that!' he went on, complainingly. 'Ugh! The reeking, +filthy, slobbering idiot! I'd rather be slain with the jaw bone +of an ass.' + +'You'll have to get another shirt,' said the pressman, who stood +near. 'You can't go to Washington with such a breast pin.' + +'I'd breast pin him if I knew who he was,' said the editor. + +A number of us followed him downstairs and a young man went +up the Bowery for a new shirt. When it came the Printer took off +the soiled garment, flinging it into a corner, and I helped him to put +himself in proper fettle again. This finished, he ran away, +hurriedly, with his carpet-bag, and I missed the opportunity I +wanted for a brief talk with him. + + + +Chapter 39 + +My regiment left New York by night in a flare of torch and rocket. +The streets were lined with crowds now hardened to the sound of +fife and drum and the pomp of military preparation. I had a very +high and mighty feeling in me that wore away in the discomfort of +travel. For hours after the train started we sang and told stories, +and ate peanuts and pulled and hauled at each other in a cloud of +tobacco smoke. The train was sidetracked here and there, and +dragged along at a slow pace. + +Young men with no appreciation, as it seemed to me, of the sad +business we were off upon, went roistering up and down the aisles, +drinking out of bottles and chasing around the train as it halted. +These revellers grew quiet as the night wore on. The boys began to +close their eyes and lie back for rest. Some lay in the aisle, their +heads upon their knapsacks. The air grew chilly and soon I could +hear them snoring all about me and the chatter of frogs in the near +marshes. I closed my eyes and vainly courted sleep. A great +sadness had lain hold of me. I had already given up my life for my +country - I was only going away now to get as dear a price for it as +possible in the hood of its enemies. When and where would it be +taken? I wondered. The fear had mostly gone out of me in days and +nights of solemn thinking. The feeling I had, with its flavour of +religion, is what has made the volunteer the mighty soldier he has +ever been, I take it, since Naseby and Marston Moor. The soul is +the great Captain, and with a just quarrel it will warm its sword in +the enemy, however he may be trained to thrust and parry. In my +sacrifice there was but one reservation - I hoped I should not be +horribly cut with a sword or a bayonet. I had written a long letter +to Hope, who was yet at Leipzig. I wondered if she would care +what became of me. I got a sense of comfort thinking I would +show her that I was no coward, with all my littleness. I had not +been able to write to Uncle Eb or to my father or mother in any +serious tone of my feeling in this enterprise. I had treated it as a +kind of holiday from which I should return shortly to visit them. + +All about me seemed to be sleeping - some of them were talking in +their dreams. As it grew light, one after another rose and stretched +himself, rousing his seat companion. The train halted, a man shot +a musket voice in at the car door. It was loaded with the many +syllables of 'Annapolis Junction'. We were pouring out of the train +shortly, to bivouac for breakfast in the depot yard. So I began the +life of a soldier, and how it ended with me many have read in +better books than this, but my story of it is here and only here. + +We went into camp there on the lonely flats of east Maryland for a +day or two, as we supposed, but really for quite two weeks. In the +long delay that followed, my way traversed the dead levels of +routine. When Southern sympathy had ceased to wreak its wrath +upon the railroads about Baltimore we pushed on to Washington. +There I got letters from Uncle Eb and Elizabeth Brower. The +former I have now in my box of treasures - a torn and faded +remnant of that dark period. + +DEAR SIR 'pen in hand to hat you know that we are all wel. also +that we was sorry you could not come horn. They took on terribul. +Hope she wrote a letter. Said she had not herd from you. also that +somebody wrote to her you was goin to be married. You had +oughter write her a letter, Bill. Looks to me so you hain't used her +right. Shes a comm horn in July. Sowed corn to day in the gardin. +David is off byin catul. I hope God will take care uv you, boy, so +goodbye from yours truly + + EBEN HOLDEN + +I wrote immediately to Uncle Eb and told him of the letters I had +sent to Hope, and of my effort to see her. + +Late in May, after Virginia had seceded, some thirty thousand of +us were sent over to the south side of the Potomac, where for +weeks we tore the flowery fields, lining the shore with long +entrenchments. + +Meantime I wrote three letters to Mr Greeley, and had the +satisfaction of seeing them in the Tribune. I took much interest in +the camp drill, and before we crossed the river I had been raised to +the rank of first lieutenant. Every day we were looking for the big +army of Beauregard, camping below Centreville, some thirty miles +south. + +Almost every night a nervous picket set the camp in uproar by +challenging a phantom of his imagination. We were all impatient +as hounds in leash. Since they would not come up and give us +battle we wanted to be off and have it out with them. And the +people were tired of delay. The cry of 'ste'boy!' was ringing all +over the north. They wanted to cut us loose and be through with +dallying. + +Well, one night the order came; we were to go south in the +morning - thirty thousand of us, and put an end to the war. We did +not get away until afternoon - it was the 6th of July. When we +were off, horse and foot, so that I could see miles of the blue +column before and behind me, I felt sorry for the mistaken South. +On the evening of the 18th our camp-fires on either side of the pike +at Centreville glowed like the lights of a city. We knew the enemy +was near, and began to feel a tightening of the nerves. I wrote a +letter to the folks at home for post mortem delivery, and put it into +my trousers pocket. A friend in my company called me aside after +mess. + +'Feel of that,' he said, laying his hand on a full breast. + +'Feathers!' he whispered significantly. 'Balls can't go through 'em, +ye know. Better n a steel breastplate! Want some? + +'Don't know but I do,' said I. + +We went into his tent, where he had a little sack full, and put a +good wad of them between my two shirts. + +'I hate the idee o'bein'hit 'n the heart,' he said. 'That's too awful. + +I nodded my assent. + +'Shouldn't like t'have a ball in my lungs, either,' he added. ' 'Tain't +necessary fer a man t'die if he can only breathe. If a man gits his +leg shot off an' don't lose his head an' keeps drawin' his breath +right along smooth an even, I don't see why he can't live. + +Taps sounded. We went asleep with our boots on, but nothing +happened. + +Three days and nights we waited. Some called it a farce, some +swore, some talked of going home. I went about quietly, my bosom +under its pad of feathers. The third day an order came from +headquarters. We were to break camp at one-thirty in the morning +and go down the pike after Beauregard. In the dead of the night the +drums sounded. I rose, half-asleep, and heard the long roll far and +near. I shivered in the cold night air as I made ready, the boys +about me buckled on knapsacks, shouldered their rifles, and fell +into line. Muffled in darkness there was an odd silence in the great +caravan forming rapidly and waiting for the word to move. At each +command to move forward I could hear only the rub of leather, the +click, click of rifle rings, the stir of the stubble, the snorting of +horses. When we had marched an hour or so I could hear the faint +rumble of wagons far in the rear. As I came high on a hill top, in +the bending column, the moonlight fell upon a league of bayonets +shining above a cloud of dust in the valley - a splendid picture, +fading into darkness and mystery. At dawn we passed a bridge and +halted some three minutes for a bite. After a little march we left +the turnpike, with Hunter's column bearing westward on a +crossroad that led us into thick woods. As the sunlight sank in the +high tree-tops the first great battle of the war began. Away to the +left of us a cannon shook the earth, hurling its boom into the still +air. The sound rushed over us, rattling in the timber like a fall of +rocks. Something went quivering in me. It seemed as if my vitals +had gone into a big lump of jelly that trembled every step I took. +We quickened our pace; we fretted, we complained. The weariness +went out of our legs; some wanted to run. Before and behind us +men were shouting hotly, 'Run, boys! run!' The cannon roar was +now continuous. We could feel the quake of it. When we came +over a low ridge, in the open, we could see the smoke of battle in +the valley. Flashes of fire and hoods of smoke leaped out of the far +thickets, left of us, as cannon roared. Going at double quick we +began loosening blankets and haversacks, tossing them into heaps +along the line of march, without halting. In half an hour we stood +waiting in battalions, the left flank of the enemy in front. We were +to charge at a run. Half-way across the valley we were to break +into companies and, advancing, spread into platoons and squads, +and at last into line of skirmishers, lying down for cover between +rushes. + +'Forward!' was the order, and we were off, cheering as we ran. O, it +was a grand sight! our colours flying, our whole front moving, like +a blue wave on a green, immeasurable sea. And it had a voice like +that of many waters. Out of the woods ahead of us came a +lightning flash. A ring of smoke reeled upward. Then came a +deafening crash of thunders - one upon another, and the scream of +shells overhead. Something stabbed into our column right beside +me. Many went headlong, crying out as they fell. Suddenly the +colours seemed to halt and sway like a tree-top in the wind. Then +down they went! - squad and colours - and we spread to pass them. +At the order we halted and laid down and fired volley after volley +at the grey coats in the edge of the thicket A bullet struck in the +grass ahead of me, throwing a bit of dirt into my eyes. Another +brushed my hat off and I heard a wailing death yell behind me. The +colonel rode up waving a sword. + +'Get up an' charge!' he shouted. + +On we went, cheering loudly, firing as we ran, Bullets went by me +hissing in my ears, and I kept trying to dodge them. We dropped +again flat on our faces. + +A squadron of black-horse cavalry came rushing out of the woods +at us, the riders yelling as they waved their swords. Fortunately we +had not time to rise. A man near me tried to get up. + +'Stay down!' I shouted. + +In a moment I learned something new about horses. They went +over us like a flash. I do not think a man was trampled. Our own +cavalry kept them busy as soon as they had passed. + +Of the many who had started there was only a ragged remnant near +me. We fired a dozen volleys lying there. The man at my elbow +rolled upon me, writhing like a worm in the fire. + +'We shall all be killed!' a man shouted. 'Where is the colonel?' + +'Dead,' said another. + +'Better retreat,' said a third. + +'Charge!' I shouted as loudly as ever I could, jumping to my feet +and waving my sabre as I rushed forward. 'Charge!' + +It was the one thing needed - they followed me. In a moment we +had hurled ourselves upon the grey line thrusting with sword and +bayonet. + +They broke before us - some running, some fighting desperately. + +A man threw a long knife at me out of a sling. Instinctively I +caught the weapon as if it had been a ball hot off the bat. In doing +so I dropped my sabre and was cut across the fingers. He came at +me fiercely, clubbing his gun - a raw-boned, swarthy giant, broad +as a barn door. I caught the barrel as it came down. He tried to +wrench it away, but I held firmly. Then he began to push up to me. +I let him come, and in a moment we were grappling hip and thigh. +He was a powerful man, but that was my kind of warfare. It gave +me comfort when I felt the grip of his hands. I let him tug a jiffy, +and then caught him with the old hiplock, and he went under me +so hard I could hear the crack of his bones. Our support came then. +We made him prisoner, with some two hundred other men. +Reserves came also and took away the captured guns. My +comrades gathered about me, cheering, but I had no suspicion of +what they meant. I thought it a tribute to my wrestling. Men lay +thick there back of the guns - some dead, some calling faintly for +help. The red puddles about them were covered with flies; ants +were crawling over their faces. I felt a kind of sickness and turned +away. + +What was left of my regiment formed in fours to join the +advancing column. Horses were galloping riderless, rein and +stirrup flying, some horribly wounded. One hobbled near me, a +front leg gone at the knee. + +Shells were flying overhead; cannonballs were ricocheting over the +level valley, throwing turf in the air, tossing the dead and wounded +that lay thick and helpless. + +Some were crumpled like a rag, as if the pain of death had +withered them in their clothes; some swollen to the girth of horses; +some bent backward, with arms outreaching like one trying an odd +trick, some lay as if listening eagerly, an ear close to the ground; +some like a sleeper, their heads upon their arms; one shrieked +loudly, gesturing with bloody hands, 'Lord God Almighty, have +mercy on me! + +I had come suddenly to a new world, where the lives of men were +cheaper than blind puppies. I was a new sort of creature, and +reckless of what came, careless of all I saw and heard. + +A staff officer stepped up to me as we joined the main body. + +'You ve been shot, young man,' he said, pointing to my left hand. + +Before he could turn I felt a rush of air and saw him fly into +pieces, some of which hit me as I fell backward. I did not know +what had happened; I know not now more than that I have written. +I remember feeling something under me, like a stick of wood, +bearing hard upon my ribs. I tried to roll off it, but somehow, it +was tied to me and kept hurting. I put my hand over my hip and +felt it there behind me - my own arm! The hand was like that of a +dead man - cold and senseless. I pulled it from under me and it lay +helpless; it could not lift itself. I knew now that I, too, had become +one of the bloody horrors of the battle. + +I struggled to my feet, weak and trembling, and sick with nausea. I +must have been lying there a long time. The firing was now at a +distance: the sun had gone half down the sky. They were picking +up the wounded in the near field. A man stood looking at me. +'Good God!' he shouted, and then ran away like one afraid. There +was a great mass of our men back of me some twenty rods. I +staggered toward them, my knees quivering. + +'I can never get there,' I heard myself whisper. + +I thought of my little flask of whiskey, and, pulling the cork with +my teeth, drank the half of it. That steadied me and I made better +headway. I could hear the soldiers talking as I neared them. + +'Look a there!' I heard many saying. 'See 'em come! My God! Look +at 'em on the hill there! + +The words went quicidy from mouth to mouth. In a moment I +could hear the murmur of thousands. I turned to see what they +were looking at. Across the valley there was a long ridge, and back +of it the main position of the Southern army. A grey host was +pouring over it - thousand upon thousand - in close order, +debouching into the valley. + +A big force of our men lay between us and them. As I looked I +could see a mighty stir in it. Every man of them seemed to be +jumping up in the air. From afar came the sound of bugles calling +'retreat , the shouting of men, the rumbling of wagons. It grew +louder. An officer rode by me hatless, and halted, shading his eyes. +Then he rode back hurriedly. + +'Hell has broke loose!' he shouted, as he passed me. + +The blue-coated host was rushing towards us like a flood' +artillery, cavalry, infantry, wagon train. There was a mighty uproar +in the men behind me - a quick stir of feet. Terror spread over +them like the travelling of fire. It shook their tongues. The crowd +began caving at the edge and jamming at the centre. Then it spread +like a swarm of bees shaken off a bush. + +'Run! Run for your lives!' was a cry that rose to heaven. + +'Halt, you cowards!' an officer shouted. + +It was now past three o clock. + +The raw army had been on its feet since midnight. For hours it had +been fighting hunger, a pain in the legs, a quivering sickness at the +stomach, a stubborn foe. It had turned the flank of Beauregard; +victory was in sight. But lo! a new enemy was coming to the fray, +innumerable, unwearied, eager for battle. The long slope bristled +with his bayonets. Our army looked and cursed and began letting +go. The men near me were pausing on the brink of awful rout In a +moment they were off, pell-mell, like a flock of sheep. The earth +shook under them. Officers rode around them, cursing, +gesticulating, threatening, but nothing could stop them. Half a +dozen trees had stood in the centre of the roaring mass. Now a few +men clung to them - a remnant of the monster that had torn away. +But the greater host was now coming. The thunder of its many feet +was near me; a cloud of dust hung over it. A squadron of cavalry +came rushing by and broke into the fleeing mass. Heavy horses, +cut free from artillery, came galloping after them, straps flying +over foamy flanks. Two riders clung to the back of each, lashing +with whip and rein. The nick of wagons came after them, wheels +rattling, horses running, voices shrilling in a wild hoot of terror. It +makes me tremble even now, as I think of it, though it is muffled +under the cover of nearly forty years! I saw they would go over me. +Reeling as if drunk, I ran to save myself. Zigzagging over the field +I came upon a grey-bearded soldier lying in the grass and fell +headlong. I struggled madly, but could not rise to my feet. I lay, +my face upon the ground, weeping like a woman. Save I be lost in +hell, I shall never know again the bitter pang of that moment. I +thought of my country. I saw its splendid capital in ruins; its +people surrendered to God's enemies. + +The rout of wagons had gone by I could now hear the heavy tramp +of thousands passing me, the shrill voices of terror. I worked to a +sitting posture somehow - the effort nearly smothered me. A mass +of cavalry was bearing down upon me. They were coming so thick +I saw they would trample me into jelly. In a flash I thought of what +Uncle Eb had told me once. I took my hat and covered my face +quiddy, and then uncovered it as they came near. They sheared +away as I felt the foam of their nostrils. I had split them as a rock +may split the torrent. The last of them went over me - their tails +whipping my face. I shall not soon forget the look of their bellies +or the smell of their wet flanks. They had no sooner passed than I +fell back and rolled half over like a log. I could feel a warm flow +of blood trickling down my left arm. A shell, shot at the retreating +army, passed high above me, whining as it flew. Then my mind +went free of its trouble. The rain brought me to as it came pelting +down upon the side of my face. I wondered what it might be, for I +knew not where I had come. I lifted my head and looked to see a +new dawn - possibly the city of God itself. It was dark - so dark I +felt as if I had no eyes. Away in the distance I could hear the +beating of a drum. It rang in a great silence - I have never known +the like of it. I could hear the fall and trickle of the rain, but it +seemed only to deepen the silence. I felt the wet grass under my +face and hands. Then I knew it was night and the battlefield where +I had fallen. I was alive and might see another day - thank God! I +felt something move under my feet I heard a whisper at my +shoulder. + +'Thought you were dead long ago,' it said. + +'No, no,' I answered, 'I'm alive - I know I'm alive - this is the +battlefield. + +''Fraid I ain't goin' t' live,' he said. 'Got a terrible wound. +Wish it was morning.' + +'Dark long?' I asked. + +'For hours,' he answered. 'Dunno how many.' + +He began to groan and utter short prayers. + +'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the +morning,' I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice. + +Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him +whispering of his home and people. + +Presently he began to sing: + + 'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah! + Pilgrim through this barren land + I am weak but thou art mighty' + +His voice broke and trembled and sank into silence. + +I had business of my own to look after - perhaps I had no time to +lose - and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and +began to feel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It +chilled me to the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I +called to the man who lay beside me - again and again I called to +him - but got no answer. Then I knew that he was dead and I alone. +Long after that in the far distance I heard a voice calling. It rang +like a trumpet in the still air. It grew plainer as I listened. My own +name! William Brower? It was certainly calling to me, and I +answered with a feeble cry. In a moment I could hear the tramp of +someone coming. He was sitting beside me presently, whoever it +might be. I could not see him for the dark. His tongue went +clucking as if he pitied me. + +'Who are you?' I remember asking, but got no answer. + +At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him. + +In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of +his step seemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I +groaned he ran. I could see nothing in the darkness, but he went +ahead, never stopping, save for a moment, now and then, to rest I +wondered where he was taking me and what it all meant. I called +again, 'Who are you?' but he seemed not to hear me. 'My God!' +I whispered to myself, 'this is no man - this is Death severing +the soul from the body. The voice was that of the good God.' +Then I heard a man hailing near by. + +'Help, Help!' I shouted faintly. + +'Where are you?' came the answer, now further away. 'Can't see +you.' My mysterious bearer was now running. My heels were +dragging upon the ground; my hands were brushing the grass tops. +I groaned with pain. + +'Halt! Who comes there?' a picket called. Then I could hear voices. + +'Did you hear that noise?' said one. 'Somebody passed me. So dark +can't see my hand before me. + +'Darker than hell!' said another voice. + +It must be a giant, I thought, who can pick me up and carry me as +if I were no bigger than a house cat. That was what I was thinking +when I swooned. + +From then till I came to myself in the little church at Centreville I +remember nothing. Groaning men lay all about me; others stood +between them with lanterns. A woman was bending over me. I felt +the gentle touch of her hand upon my face and heard her speak to +me so tenderly I cannot think of it, even now, without thanking +God for good women. I clung to her hand, clung with the energy of +one drowning, while I suffered the merciful torture of the probe, +the knife and the needle. And when it was all over and the lantern +lights grew pale in the dawn I fell asleep. + +But enough of blood and horror. War is no holiday, my merry +people, who know not the mighty blessing of peace. Counting the +cost, let us have war, if necessary, but peace, peace if possible. + + + +Chapter 40 + +But now I have better things to write of things that have some +relish of good in them. I was very weak and low from loss of blood +for days, and, suddenly, the tide turned. I had won recognition for +distinguished gallantry they told me - that day they took me to +Washington. I lay three weeks there in the hospital. As soon as +they heard of my misfortune at home Uncle Eb wrote he was +coming to see me. I stopped him by a telegram, assuring him that I +was nearly well and would be home shortly. + +My term of enlistment had expired when they let me out a fine day +in mid August. I was going home for a visit as sound as any man +but, in the horse talk of Faraway, I had a little 'blemish'on the left +shoulder. Uncle Eb was to meet me at the jersey City depot. +Before going I, with others who had been complimented for +bravery, went to see the president. There were some twenty of us +summoned to meet him that day. It was warm and the great +Lincoln sat in his shirt-sleeves at a desk in the middle of his big +office. He wore a pair of brown carpet slippers, the rolling collar +and black stock now made so familiar in print. His hair was +tumbled. He was writing hurriedly when we came in. He laid his +pen away and turned to us without speaking. There was a careworn +look upon his solemn face. + +'Mr President,' said the general, who had come with us, 'here are +some of the brave men of our army, whom you wished to see. + +He came and shook hands with each and thanked us in the name of +the republic, for the example of courage and patriotism we and +many others had given to the army. He had a lean, tall, ungraceful +figure and he spoke his mind without any frill or flourish. He said +only a few words of good plain talk and was done with us. + +'Which is Brower?' he enquired presently. + +I came forward more scared than ever I had been before. + +'My son,' he said, taking my hand in his, 'why didn't you run?' + +'Didn't dare,' I answered. 'I knew it was more dangerous to run +away than to go forward.' + +'Reminds me of a story,' said he smiling. 'Years ago there was a +bully in Sangamon County, Illinois, that had the reputation of +running faster and fighting harder than any man there. Everybody +thought he was a terrible fighter. He'd always get a man on the +run; then he'd ketch up and give him a licking. One day he tadded +a lame man. The lame man licked him in a minute. + +'"Why didn't ye run?" somebody asked the victor. + +'"Didn't dast," said he. "Run once when he tackled me an I've been +lame ever since." + +"How did ye manage to lick him?" said the other. + +'"Wall," said he, "I hed to, an' I done it easy." + +'That's the way it goes,' said the immortal president, 'ye do it easy +if ye have to. + +He reminded me in and out of Horace Greeley, although they +looked no more alike than a hawk and a handsaw. But they had a +like habit of forgetting themselves and of saying neither more nor +less than they meant. They both had the strength of an ox and as +little vanity. Mr Greeley used to say that no man could amount to +anything who worried much about the fit of his trousers; neither of +them ever encountered that obstacle. + +Early next morning I took a train for home. I was in soldier clothes +I had with me no others - and all in my car came to talk with me +about the now famous battle of Bull Run. + +The big platform at Jersey City was crowded with many people as +we got off the train. There were other returning soldiers - some +with crutches, some with empty sleeves. + +A band at the further end of the platform was playing and those +near me were singing the familiar music, + + 'John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave. + +Somebody shouted my name. Then there rose a cry of three cheers +for Brower. It's some of the boys of the Tribune, I thought - I +could see a number of them in the crowd. One brought me a basket +of flowers. I thought they were trying to have fun with me. + +'Thank you!' said I, 'but what is the joke?' + +'No joke,' he said. 'It's to honour a hero.' + +'Oh, you wish me to give it to somebody.' + +I was warming with embarrassment + +'We wish you to keep it,' he answered. + +In accounts of the battle I had seen some notice of my leading a +charge but my fame had gone farther - much farther indeed - than I +knew. I stood a moment laughing - an odd sort of laugh it was that +had in it the salt of tears - and waving my hand to the many who +were now calling my name. + +In the uproar of cheers and waving of handkerchiefs I could not +find Uncle Eb for a moment. When I saw him in the breaking +crowd he was cheering lustily and waving his hat above his head. +His enthusiasm increased when I stood before him. As I was +greeting him I heard a lively rustle of skirts. Two dainty, gloved +hands laid hold of mine; a sweet voice spoke my name. There, +beside me, stood the tall, erect figure of Hope. Our eyes met and, +before there was any thinking of propriety, I had her in my arms +and was kissing her and she was kissing me. + +It thrilled me to see the splendour of her beauty that day; her eyes +wet with feeling as they looked up at me; to feel again the +trembling touch of her lips. In a moment I turned to Uncle Eb. + +'Boy,' he said, 'I thought you...' and then he stopped and began +brushing his coat sleeve. + +'Come on now,' he added as he took my grip away from me. 'We're +goin' t' hev a gran' good time. I'll take ye all to a splendid +tavern somewheres. An' I ain't goin' if count the cost nuther. + +He was determined to carry my grip for me. Hope had a friend +with her who was going north in the morning on our boat. We +crossed the ferry and took a Broadway omnibus, while query +followed query. + +'Makes me feel like a flapjack t'ride 'n them things,' said Uncle Eb +as we got out. + +He hired a parlour and two bedrooms for us all at the St Nicholas. + +'Purty middlin' steep!' he said to me as we left the office. 'It is, +sartin! but I don't care - not a bit. When folks has if hev a good +time they've got t' hev it. + +We were soon seated in our little parlour. There was a great glow +of health and beauty in Hope's face. It was a bit fuller but had +nobler outlines and a colouring as delicate as ever. She wore a +plain grey gown admirably fitted to her plump figure. There was a +new and splendid 'dignity in her carriage, her big blue eyes, her +nose with its little upward slant. She was now the well groomed +young woman of society in the full glory of her youth. + +Uncle Eb who sat between us pinched her cheek playfully. A little +spot of white showed a moment where his fingers had been. Then +the pink flooded over it. + +'Never see a girl git such a smack as you did,' he said laughing. + +'Well,' said she, smiling, 'I guess I gave as good as I got.' + +'Served him right,' he said. 'You kissed back good 'n hard. Gran +sport!' he added turning to me. + +'Best I ever had,' was my humble acknowledgement. + +'Seldom ever see a girl kissed so powerful,' he said as he took Hope +hand in his. 'Now if the Bible said when a body kissed ye on one +cheek ye mus' turn if other I wouldn't find no fault. But ther's a +heap o differ'nce 'tween a whack an' a smack. + +When we had come back from dinner Uncle Eb drew off his boots +and sat comfortably in his stocking feet while Hope told of her +travels and I of my soldiering. She had been at the Conservatory, +nearly the whole period of her absence, and hastened home when +she learned of the battle and of my wound. She had landed two +days before. + +Hope's friend and Uncle Eb went away to their rooms in good +season. Then I came and sat beside Hope on the sofa. + +'Let's have a good talk,' I said. + +There was an awkward bit of silence. + +'Well,' said she, her fan upon her lips, 'tell me more about the war. + +'Tired of war,' I answered; 'love is a better subject. + +She rose and walked up and down the room, a troubled look in her +face. I thought I had never seen a woman who could carry her head +so proudly. + +'I don't think you are very familiar with it,' said she presently. + +'I ought to be,' I answered, 'having loved you all these years. + +'But you told me that - that you loved another girl,' she said, her +elbow leaning on the mantel, her eyes looking down soberly. + +'When? Where?' I asked. + +'In Mrs Fuller's parlour.' + +'Hope,' I said, 'you misunderstood me; I meant you. + +She came toward me, then, looking up into my eyes. I started to +embrace her but she caught my hands and held them apart and +came close to me. + +'Did you say that you meant me?' she asked in a whisper. + +'I did.' + +'Why did you not tell me that night? + +'Because you would not listen to me and we were interrupted. + +'Well if I loved a girl,' she said, 'I'd make her listen.' + +'I would have done that but Mrs Fuller saved you.' + +'You might have written,' she suggested in a tone of injury. + +'I did.' + +'And the letter never came - just as I feared.' + +She looked very sober and thoughtful then. + +'You know our understanding that day in the garden,' she added. 'If +you did not ask me again I was to know you - you did not love me +any longer. That was long, long ago. + +'I never loved any girl but you,' I said. 'I love you now, Hope, and +that is enough - I love you so there is nothing else for me. You are +dearer than my life. It was the thought of you that made me brave +in battle. I wish I could be as brave here. But I demand your +surrender - I shall give you no quarter now. + +'I wish I knew,' she said, 'whether - whether you really love me or +not? + +'Don't you believe me, Hope? + +'Yes, I believe you,' she said, 'but - but you might not know your +own heart. + +'It longs for you,' I said, 'it keeps me thinking of you always. Once +it was so easy to be happy; since you have been away it has +seemed as if there were no longer any light in the world or any +pleasure. It has made me a slave. I did not know that love was such +a mighty thing. + +'Love is no Cupid - he is a giant,' she said, her voice trembling with +emotion as mine had trembled. 'I tried to forget and he crushed me +under his feet as if to punish me. + +She was near to crying now, but she shut her lips firmly and kept +back the tears. God grant me I may never forget the look in her +eyes that moment. She came closer to me. Our lips touched; my +arms held her tightly. + +'I have waited long for this,' I said - 'the happiest moment of my +life! I thought I had lost you. + +'What a foolish man,' she whispered. 'I have loved you for years +and years and you - you could not see it, I believe now.' + +She hesitated a moment, her eyes so close to my cheek I could feel +the beat of their long lashes. + +'That God made you for me,' she added. + +'Love is God's helper,' I said. 'He made us for each other. + +'I thank Him for it - I do love you so,' she whispered. + +The rest is the old, old story. They that have not lived it are to be +pitied. + +When we sat down at length she told me what I had long +suspected, that Mrs Fuller wished her to marry young Livingstone. + +'But for Uncle Eb,' she added, 'I think I should have done so - for I +had given up all hope of you.' + +'Good old Uncle Eb!' I said. 'Let's go and tell him. + +He was sound asleep when we entered his room but woke as I lit +the gas. + +'What's the matter?' he whispered, lifting his head. + +'Congratulate us,' I said. 'We're engaged. + +'Hey ye conquered her?' he enquired smiling. + +'Love has conquered us both,' I said. + +'Wall, I swan! is thet so?' he answered. 'Guess I won't fool away +any more time here in bed. If you childen'll go in t'other room I'll +slip into my trousers an' then ye'll hear me talk some conversation. + +'Beats the world!' he continued, coming in presently, buttoning his +suspenders. 'I thought mos' likely ye'd hitch up t'gether sometime. +'Tain't often ye can find a pair s'well matched. The same style an +gaited jest about alike. When ye goin' t' git married? + +'She hasn't named the day,' I said. + +'Sooner the better,' said Uncle Eb as he drew on his coat and sat +down. 'Used if be so t'when a young couple hed set up 'n held each +other's han's a few nights they was ready fer the minister. Wish't +ye could fix it fer 'bout Crissmus time, by jingo! They's other +things goin'if happen then.' s pose yer s'happy now ye can stan' a +little bad news. I've got if tell ye - David's been losin' money. +Hain't never wrote ye 'bout it - not a word - 'cause I didn't know +how 'twas comin' out. + +'How did he lose it?' I enquired. + +'Wall ye know that Ow Barker - runs a hardware store in +Migleyville - he sold him a patent right. Figgered an' argued night +an' day fer more 'n three weeks. It was a new fangled wash biler. +David he thought he see a chance if put out agents an' make a +great deal o'money. It did look jest as easy as slidin' downhill but +when we come slide - wall, we found out we was at the bottom o +the hill 'stid o' the top an' it wan't reel good slidin . He paid five +thousan' dollars fer the right o'ten counties. Then bym bye Barker +he wanted him t'go security fer fifteen hunderd bilers thet he was +hevin' made. I to!' David he hedn't better go in no deeper but +Barker, he promised big things an' seemed if be sech a nice man 'at +fin'ly David he up 'n done it. Wall he's hed 'em t' pay fer an' the +fact is it costs s'much if sell 'em it eats up all the profits. + +'Looks like a swindle,' I said indignantly. + +'No,' said Uncle Eb, "tain't no swindle. Barker thought he hed a +gran' good thing. He got fooled an' the fool complaint is very +ketchin'. Got it myself years ago an' I've been doctorin' fer it ever +sence. + +The story of David's undoing hurt us sorely. He had gone the way +of most men who left the farm late in life with unsatisfied +ambition. + +'They shall never want for anything, so long as I have my health,' I +said. + +'I have four hundred dollars in the bank,' said Hope, 'and shall give +them every cent of it. + +'Tain' nuthin'if worry over,' said Uncle Eb. 'If I don' never lose +more'n a little money I shan't feel terrible bad. We're all young yit. +Got more'n a million dollars wuth o' good health right here 'n this +room. So well, I'm 'shamed uv it! Man's more decent if he's a +leetle bit sickly. An' thet there girl Bill's agreed t'marry ye! Why! +'Druther hev her 'n this hull city o' New York. + +'So had I,' was my answer. + +'Wall, you am'no luckier 'n she is - not a bit,' he added. 'A good +man's better 'n a gol'mine ev'ry time. + +'Who knows,' said Hope. 'He may be president someday. + +'Ther's one thing I hate,' Uncle El continued. 'That's the idee o +hevin' the woodshed an' barn an' garret full o' them infernal wash +bilers. Ye can't take no decent care uv a hoss there 'n the stable' +they're so piled up. One uv 'em tumbled down top o' me t'other +day. 'Druther 'twould a been a panther. Made me s'mad I took a +club an' knocked that biler into a cocked hat. 'Tain't right! I'm sick +o' the sight uv 'em. + +'They'll make a good bonfire someday,' said Hope. + +'Don't believe they'd burn,' he answered sorrowfully, 'they're tin. + +'Couldn't we bury 'em?' I suggested. + +'Be a purty costly funeral,' he answered thoughtfully. 'Ye'd hev if +dig a hole deeper n Tupper's dingle. + +'Couldn't you give them away?' I enquired. + +'Wall,' said he, helping himself to a chew of tobacco, 'we ve tried +thet. Gin 'em t'everybody we know but there ain't folks enough' +there's such a slew o'them bilers. We could give one if ev'ry man, +woman an' child in Faraway an' hex enough left t'fill an acre lot. +Dan Perry druv in t'other day with a double buggy. We gin him +one fer his own fam'ly. It was heavy t'carry an' he didn't seem t' +like the looks uv it someway. Then I asked him if he wouldn't like +one fer his girl. "She ain't married," says he. "She will be some +time," says I, "take it along," so he put in another. "You've got a +sister over on the turnpike hain't ye?" says I. "Yes," says he. +"Wall," I says, "don' want a hex her feel slighted." "She won't +know 'bout my hevin' 'em," says he, lookin' 's if he'd hed enough. +"Yis she will," I says, "she'll hear uv it an' mebbe make a fuss." +Then we piled in another. "Look here," I says after that, "there s +yer brother Bill up there 'bove you. Take one along fer him." "No," +says he, "I don' tell ev'ry body, but Bill an' I ain't on good terms. +We ain't spoke fer more'n a year." + +'Knew he was lyin',' Uncle Eb added with a laugh, 'I'd seen him +talkin' with Bill a day er two before. + +'Whew!' he whistled as he looked at his big silver watch. 'I declare +it's mos' one o clock They's jes' one other piece o' business if +come before this meetin'. Double or single, want ye if both +promise me t'be hum Crissmus. + +We promised. + +'Now childern,' said he. ''S time if go if bed. B'lieve ye'd stan' +there swappin' kisses 'till ye was knee sprung if I didn't tell ye +t' quit. + +Hope came and put her arms about his neck, fondly, and kissed +him good-night. + +'Did Bill prance right up like a man?' he asked, his hand upon her +shoulder. + +'Did very well,' said she, smiling, 'for a man with a wooden leg. + +Uncle Eb sank into a chair, laughing heartily, and pounding his +knee. It seemed he had told her that I was coming home with a +wooden leg! 'That is the reason I held your arm,' she said. 'I was +expecting to hear it squeak every moment as we left the depot. But +when I saw that you walked so naturally I knew Uncle Eb had been +trying to fool me. + +'Purty good sort uv a lover, ain't he?' said he after we were done +laughing. + +'He wouldn't take no for an answer,' she answered. + +'He was alwuss a gritty cuss,' said Uncle Eb, wiping his eyes with a +big red handkerchief as he rose to go. 'Ye'd oughter be mighty +happy an' ye will, too - their am'no doubt uv it - not a bit. Trouble +with most young folks is they wan'if fly tew high, these days. If +they'd only fly clus enough t'the ground so the could alwuss touch +one foot, they'd be all right. Glad ye ain't thet kind. + +We were off early on the boat - as fine a summer morning as ever +dawned. What with the grandeur of the scenery and the sublimity +of our happiness it was a delightful journey we had that day. I felt +the peace and beauty of the fields, the majesty of the mirrored +cliffs and mountains, but the fair face of her I loved was enough +for me. Most of the day Uncle Eb sat near us and I remember a +woman evangelist came and took a seat beside him, awhile, +talking volubly of the scene. + +'My friend,' said she presently, 'are you a Christian? + +''Fore I answer I'll hex if tell ye a story,' said Uncle Eb. 'I +recollec' a man by the name o' Ranney over 'n Vermont - he was a +pious man. Got into an argyment an' a feller slapped him in the face. +Ranney turned t'other side an' then t'other an' the feller kep' +a slappin' hot 'n heavy. It was jes' like strappin' a razor fer half +a minnit. Then Ranney sailed in - gin him the wust lickin' he ever +hed. + +'"I declare," says another man, after 'twas all over, "I thought you +was a Christian." + +"Am up to a cert in p'int," says he. "Can't go tew fur not 'n these +parts - men are tew powerful. 'Twon't do 'less ye wan'if die +sudden. When he begun poundin' uv me I see I wan't eggzac'ly +prepared." + +''Fraid 's a good deal thet way with most uv us. We're Christians up +to a cert'in p'int. Fer one thing, I think if a man'll stan' still an' +see himself knocked into the nex' world he's a leetle tew good fer this.' + +The good lady began to preach and argue. For an hour Uncle Eb +sat listening unable to get in a word. When, at last, she left him he +came to us a look of relief in his face. + +'I b'lieve,' said he, 'if Balaam's ass hed been rode by a woman he +never 'd hev spoke.' + +'Why not?' I enquired. + +'Never'd hev hed a chance,' Uncle Eb added. + +We were two weeks at home with mother and father and Uncle Eb. +It was a delightful season of rest in which Hope and I went over +the sloping roads of Faraway and walked in the fields and saw the +harvesting. She had appointed Christmas Day for our wedding and +I was not to go again to the war, for now my first duty was to my +own people. If God prospered me they were all to come to live +with us in town and, though slow to promise, I could see it gave +them comfort to know we were to be for them ever a staff and +refuge. + +And the evening before we came back to town Jed Feary was with +us and Uncle Eb played his flute and sang the songs that had been +the delight of our childhood. + +The old poet read these lines written in memory of old times in +Faraway and of Hope's girlhood. + + 'The red was in the clover an' the blue was in the sky: + There was music in the meadow, there was dancing in the rye; + An' I heard a voice a calling to the flocks o' Faraway + An' its echo in the wooded hills - Go'day! Go'day! Go'day! + + O fair was she - my lady love - an' lithe as the willow tree, + An' aye my heart remembers well her parting words t' me. + An' I was sad as a beggar-man but she was blithe an' gay + An' I think o' her as I call the flocks Go'day! Go'day! Go'day! + + Her cheeks they stole the dover's red, her lips the odoured air, + An' the glow o' the morning sunlight she took away in her hair; + Her voice had the meadow music, her form an' her laughing eye + Have taken the blue o' the heavens an' the grace o' the bending rye. + + My love has robbed the summer day - the field, the sky, the dell, + She has taken their treasures with her, she has taken my heart as well; + An' if ever, in the further fields, her feet should go astray + May she hear the good God calling her Go'day! Go'day! Go'day! + + + +Chapter 41 + +I got a warm welcome on Monkey Hill. John Trumbull came to +dine with us at the chalet the evening of my arrival. McGlingan +had become editor-in-chief of a new daily newspaper. Since the +war began Mr Force had found ample and remunerative +occupation writing the 'Obituaries of Distinguished Persons . He +sat between Trumbull and McGlingan at table and told again of the +time he had introduced the late Daniel Webster to the people of his +native town. + +Reciting a passage of the immortal Senator he tipped his beer into +the lap of McClingan. He ceased talking and sought pardon. + +'It is nothing, Force - nothing,' said the Scotchman, with great +dignity, as he wiped his coat and trousers. 'You will pardon me if I +say that I had rather be drenched in beer than soaked in +recollections. + +'That's all right,' said Mr Opper, handing him a new napkin. 'Yes, +in the midst of such affliction I should call it excellent fun, +McClingan added. 'If you ever die, Force, I will preach the sermon +without charge. + +'On what text?' the obituary editor enquired. + +'"There remaineth therefore, a rest for the people of God,"'quoth +McClingan solemnly. 'Hebrews, fourth chapter and ninth verse. + +'If I continue to live with you I shall need it,' said Force. + +'And if I endure to the end,' said McClingan, 'I shall have excellent +Christian discipline; I shall feel like opening my mouth and +making a loud noise. + +McGlingan changed his garments and then came into my room and +sat with us awhile after dinner. + +'One needs ear lappers and a rubber coat at that table,' said he. + +'And a chest protector,' I suggested, remembering the finger of +Force. + +'I shall be leaving here soon, Brower,' said McGlingan as he lit a +cigar. + +'Where shall you go?' I asked. + +'To my own house. + +'Going to hire a housekeeper? + +'Going to marry one,' said he. + +'That's funny,' I said. We're all to be married - every man of us. + +'By Jove!' said McClingan, 'this is a time for congratulation. God +save us and grant for us all the best woman in the world. + + + +Chapter 42 + +For every man he knew and loved Mr Greeley had a kindness that +filled him to the fingertips. When I returned he smote me on the +breast - an unfailing mark of his favour - and doubled my salary. + +'If he ever smites you on the breast,' McClingan had once said to +me, 'turn the other side, for, man, your fortune is made.' + +And there was some truth in the warning. + +He was writing when I came in. A woman sat beside him talking. +An immense ham lay on the marble top of the steam radiator; a +basket of eggs sat on the floor near Mr Greeley's desk All sorts of +merchandise were sent to the Tribune those days, for notice, and +sold at auction, to members of the staff, by Mr Dana. + +'Yes, yes, Madame, go on, I hear you,' said the great editor, as his +pen flew across the white page. + +She asked him then for a loan of money. He continued writing but, +presently, his left hand dove into his trousers pocket coming up +full of bills. + +'Take what you want,' said he, holding it toward her, 'and please go +for I am very busy.' Whereupon she helped herself liberally and +went away. + +Seeing me, Mr Greeley came and shook my hand warmly and +praised me fer a good soldier. + +'Going down town,' he said in a moment, drawing on his big white +overcoat, 'walk along with me - won't you? + +We crossed the park, he leading me with long strides. As we +walked he told how he had been suffering from brain fever. +Passing St Paul's churchyard he brushed the iron pickets with his +hand as if to try the feel of them. Many turned to stare at him +curiously. He asked me, soon, if I would care to do a certain thing +for the Tribune, stopping, to look in at a shop window, as I +answered him. I waited while he did his errand at a Broadway +shop; then we came back to the office. The publisher was in Mr +Greeley's room. + +'Where's my ham, Dave?' said the editor as he looked at the slab of +marble where the ham had lain. + +'Don't know for sure,' said the publisher, 'it's probably up at the +house of the - editor by this time. + +'What did you go 'n give it to him for?' drawled Mr Greeley in a +tone of irreparable injury. 'I wanted that ham for myself. + +'I didn't give it to him,' said the publisher. 'He came and helped +himself. Said he supposed it was sent in for notice. + +'The infernal thief!' Mr Greeley piped with a violent gesture. 'I'll +swear! if I didn't keep my shirt buttoned tight they'd have that, too. + +The ham was a serious obstacle in the way of my business and it +went over until evening. But that and like incidents made me to +know the man as I have never seen him pictured - a boy grown old +and grey, pushing the power of manhood with the ardours of +youth. + +I resumed work on the Tribune that week. My first assignment was +a mass meeting in a big temporary structure - then called a +wigwam - over in Brooklyn. My political life began that day and +all by an odd chance. The wigwam was crowded to the doors. The +audience bad been waiting half an hour for the speaker. The +chairman had been doing his best to kill time but had run out of +ammunition. He had sat down to wait, an awkward silence had +begun. The crowd was stamping and whistling and clapping with +impatience. As I walked down the centre aisle, to the reporter s +table, they seemed to mistake me for the speaker. Instantly a great +uproar began. It grew louder every step I took. I began to wonder +and then to fear the truth. As I neared the stage the chairman came +forward beckoning to me. I went to the flight of steps leading up to +that higher level of distinguished citizens and halted, not knowing +just what to do. He came and leaned over and whispered down at +me. I remember he was red in the face and damp with perspiration. + +'What is your name?' he enquired. + +'Brower,' said I in a whisper. + +A look of relief came into his face and I am sure a look of anxiety +came into mine. He had taken the centre of the stage before I could +stop him. + +'Lathes and gentlemen,' said he, 'I am glad to inform you that +General Brower has at last arrived. + +I remembered then there was a General Brower in the army who +was also a power in politics. + +In the storm of applause that followed this announcement, I +beckoned him to the edge of the platform again. I was nearer a +condition of mental panic than I have ever known since that day. + +'I am not General Brower,' I whispered. + +'What!' said he in amazement. + +'I am not General Brower,' I said. + +'Great heavens!' he whispered, covering his mouth with his band +and looking very thoughtful. 'You'll have to make a speech, +anyway - there's no escape. + +I could see no way out of it and, after a moment's hesitation, +ascended the platform took off my overcoat and made a speech. + +Fortunately the issue was one with which I had been long familiar. +I told them how I had been trapped. The story put the audience in +good humour and they helped me along with very generous +applause. And so began my career in politics which has brought +me more honour than I deserved although I know it has not been +wholly without value to my country. It enabled me to repay in part +the kindness of my former chief at a time when he was sadly in +need of friends. I remember meeting him in Washington a day of +that exciting campaign of '72. I was then in Congress. + +'I thank you for what you have done, Brower,' said he, 'but I tell +you I am licked. I shall not carry a single state. I am going to be +slaughtered. + +He had read his fate and better than he knew. In politics he was a +great prophet. + + + +Chapter 43 + +The north country lay buried in the snow that Christmastime. Here +and there the steam plough had thrown its furrows, on either side +of the railroad, high above the window line. The fences were +muffled in long ridges of snow, their stakes showing like pins in a +cushion of white velvet. Some of the small trees on the edge of the +big timber stood overdrifted to their boughs. I have never seen +such a glory of the morning as when the sun came up, that day we +were nearing home, and lit the splendour of the hills, there in the +land I love. The frosty nap of the snow glowed far and near with +pulsing glints of pale sapphire. + +We came into Hillsborough at noon the day before Christmas. +Father and Uncle Eb met us at the depot and mother stood waving +her handkerchief at the door as we drove up. And when we were +done with our greetings and were standing, damp eyed, to warm +ourselves at the fire, Uncle Eb brought his palms together with a +loud whack and said: + +'Look here, Liz beth Brower! I want if hev ye tell me if ye ever see +a likelier pair o' colts. + +She laughed as she looked at us. In a moment she ran her hand +down the side of Hope's gown. Then she lifted a fold of the cloth +and felt of it thoughtfully. + +'How much was that a yard?' she asked a dreamy look in her eyes. +'Wy! w'y!' she continued as Hope told her the sum. 'Terrible steep! +but it does fit splendid! Oughter wear well too! Wish ye'd put that +on if ye go t' church nex' Sunday. + +'O mother!' said Hope, laughing, 'I'll wear my blue silk. + +'Come boys 'n girls,' said Elizabeth suddenly, 'dinner's all ready in +the other room. + +'Beats the world!' said Uncle Eb, as we sat down at the table. 'Ye +do look gran' if me - ree-markable gran', both uv ye. Tek a +premium at any fair - ye would sartin.' + +'Has he won yer affections?' said David laughing as he looked over +at Hope. + +'He has,' said she solemnly. + +'Affections are a sing'lar kind o' prop'ty,' said Uncle Eb. 'Hain't +good fer nuthin till ye've gin em away. Then, like as not, they git +very valyble. + +'Good deal that way with money too,' said Elizabeth Brower. + +'I recollec' when Hope was a leetle bit uv a girl' said Uncle Eb, 'she +used if say 'et when she got married she was goin' if hev her +husban' rub my back fer me when it was lame. + +'I haven't forgotten it,' said Hope, 'and if you will all come you will +make us happier. + +'Good many mouths if feed!' Uncle Ebb remarked. + +'I could take in sewing and help some,' said Elizabeth Brower, as +she sipped her tea. + +There was a little quiver in David's under lip as he looked over at +her. 'You ain't able t' do hard work any more, mother,' said he. +'She won't never hev to nuther,' said Uncle Eb. 'Don't never pay if +go bookin' fer trouble - it stew easy if find. There ain' no sech +thing 's trouble 'n this world 'less ye look for it. Happiness won't +hey nuthin if dew with a man thet likes trouble. Minnit a man stops +lookin' fer trouble happiness 'II look fer him. Things came puny +nigh's ye like 'em here 'n this world - hot er cold er only middlin'. +Ye can either laugh er cry er fight er fish er go if meetin'. If ye +don't like erry one you can fin fault. I'm on the lookout fer +happiness - suits me best, someway, an don't hurt my feelin's a bit. + +'Ev'ry day's a kind uv a circus day with you, Holden,' said David +Brower. 'Alwuss hevin' a good time. Ye can hev more fun with +yerseif 'n any man I ever see.' + +'If I hev as much hereafter es I've hed here, I ain't a goin'if fin' no +fault,' said Uncle Eb. ''S a reel, splendid world. God's fixed it up so +ev'ry body can hev a good time if they'll only hev it. Once I heard +uv a poor man 'at hed a bushel o' corn give tew him. He looked up +kind o' sad an' ast if they wouldn't please shell it. Then they tuk it +away. God's gin us happiness in the ear, but He ain't a goin' t' shell +it fer us. You n 'Lizabeth oughter be very happy. Look a' them tew +childern! + +There came a rap at the door then. David put on his cap and went +out with Uncle Eb. + +'It's somebody for more money,' Elizabeth whispered, her eyes +filling. 'I know 'tis, or he would have asked him in. We're goin't +lose our home. + +Her lips quivered; she covered her eyes a moment. + +'David ain't well,' she continued. 'Worries night 'n day over money +matters. Don't say much, but I can see it's alwuss on his mind. +Woke up in the middle o' the night awhile ago. Found him sittin' +by the stove. "Mother," he said, "we can't never go back to farmin'. +I've ploughed furrows enough if go 'round the world. Couldn't +never go through it ag'in." "Well," said I, "if you think best we +could start over see how we git along. I'm willin' if try it." "No, we +re too old," he says. "Thet's out o' the question. I've been +thinkin' what'll we do there with Bill 'n Hope if we go t'live with +'em? Don't suppose they'll hev any hosses if take care uv er any +wood if chop. What we'll hev if do is more'n I can make out. We +can't do nuthin; we've never learnt how." + +'We've thought that all over,' I said. 'We may have a place in the +country with a big garden. + +'Well,' said she, 'I'm very well if I am over sixty. I can cook an +wash an' mend an' iron just as well as I ever could.' + +Uncle Eb came to the door then. + +'Bill,' he said, 'I want you 'n Hope if come out here 'n look at this +young colt o' mine. He's playful 's a kitten. + +We put on our wraps and went to the stable. Uncle Eb was there +alone. + +'If ye brought any Cnssmus presents,' he whispered, 'slip 'em into +my hands. I'm goin' if run the cirkis t'morrow an' if we don't hev +fun a plenty I'll miss my guess. + +'I'll lay them out in my room,' said Hope. + +'Be sure 'n put the names on 'em,' Uncle Eb whispered, as Hope +went away. + +'What have ye done with the "bilers"?' I enquired. + +'Sold 'em,' said he, laughing. 'Barker never kep' his promise. Heard +they'd gone over t' the 'Burg an' was tryin' t' sell more territory. I +says if Dave, "You let me manage 'em an' I'll put 'em out o +business here 'n this part o' the country." So I writ out an +advertisement fer the paper. Read about this way: "Fer sale. +Twelve hunderd patented suction Wash Bilers. Anyone at can't +stan' prosperity an' is learnin' if swear 'll find 'em a great help. +If he don't he's a bigger fool 'n I am. Nuthin' in 'em but tin - +that's wuth somethin'. Warranted t' hold water." + +'Wall ye know how that editor talks? 'Twant a day 'fore the head +man o' the biler business come 'n bought 'em. An' the +advertisement was never put in. Guess he wan't hankerin' if hev +his business spilt. + +Uncle Eb was not at the supper table that evening. + +'Where's Holden?' said Elizabeth Brower. + +'Dunno,' said David. 'Goin' after Santa Claus he tol' me. + +'Never see the beat o' that man!' was the remark of Elizabeth, as +she poured the tea. 'Jes' like a boy ev'ry Crissmus time. Been so +excited fer a week couldn't hardly contain himself.' + +'Ketched him out 'n the barn if other day laffin' like a fool,' said +David. 'Thought he was crazy.' + +We sat by the fire after the supper dishes were put away, talking of +all the Christmas Days we could remember. Hope and I thought +our last in Faraway best of all and no wonder, for we had got then +the first promise of the great gift that now made us happy. +Elizabeth, sitting in her easy-chair, told of Christmas in the olden +time when her father had gone to the war with the British. + +David sat near me, his face in the firelight - the broad brow +wrinkled into furrows and framed in locks of iron-grey. He was +looking thoughtfully at the fire. Uncle Eb came soon, stamping +and shaking the snow out of his great fur coat. + +'Col'night,' he said, warming his hands. + +Then he carried his coat and cap away, returning shortly, with a +little box in his hand. + +'Jes' thought I'd buy this fer fun,' said he, holding it down to the +firelight. 'Dummed if I ever see the like uv it. Whoa!' he shouted, +as the cover flew open, releasing a jumping-jack. 'Quicker n a +grasshopper! D'ye ever see sech a sassy little critter? + +Then he handed it to Elizabeth. + +'Wish ye Merry Christmas, Dave Brower!' said he. + +'Ain't as merry as I might be,' said David. + +'Know what's the matter with ye,' said Uncle Eb. 'Searchin' after +trouble - thet's what ye're doin'. Findin' lots uv it right there 'n the +fire. Trouble 's goiti' t' git mighty scurce 'round here this very +selfsame night. Ain't goin' t' be nobody lookin' fer it - thet's why. +Fer years ye ve been takin' care o' somebody et I'll take care 'o you, +long's ye live - sartin sure. Folks they said ye was fools when ye +took 'em in. Man said I was a fool once. Alwuss hed a purty fair +idee o'myself sence then. When some folks call ye a fool 's a +ruther good sign ye ain't. Ye've waited a long time fer yer pay - +ain't much longer if wait now.' + +There was a little quaver in his voice, We all looked at him in +silence. Uncle Eb drew out his wallet with trembling hands, his +fine old face lit with a deep emotion. David looked up at him as +he wondered what joke was coming, until he saw his excitement. + +'Here's twenty thousan' dollars,' said Uncle Eb, 'a reel, genuwine +bank check! Jist as good as gold. Here 'tis! A Crissmus present fer +you 'n Elizabeth. An' may God bless ye both!' + +David looked up incredulously. Then he took the bit of paper. A +big tear rolled down his cheek. + +'Why, Holden! What does this mean?' he asked. + +''At the Lord pays His debts,' said Uncle Eb. 'Read it.' + +Hope had lighted the lamp. + +David rose and put on his spectacles. One eyebrow had lifted +above the level of the other. He held the check to the lamplight. +Elizabeth stood at his elbow. + +'Why, mother!' said he. 'Is this from our boy? From Nehemiah? +Why, Nehemiah is dead!' he added, looking over his spectacles at +Uncle Eb. + +'Nehemiah is not dead,' said the latter. + +'Nehemiah not dead!' he repeated, looking down at the draft. They +turned it in the light, reading over and over again the happy tidings +pinned to one corner of it. Then they looked into each other's eyes. + +Elizabeth put her arms about David's neck and laid her head upon +his shoulder and not one of us dare trust himself to speak for a +little. Uncle Eb broke the silence. + +'Got another present,' he said. 'S a good deal better 'n gold er silver.' +A tall, bearded man came in. + +'Mr Trumbull!' Hope exclaimed, rising. + +'David an' Elizabeth Brower,' said Uncle Eb, 'the dead hes come if +life. I give ye back yer son - Nehemiah.' + +Then he swung his cap high above his head, shouting in a loud +voice: + +'Merry Crissmus! Merry Crissmus!' + +The scene that followed I shall not try to picture. It was so full of +happiness that every day of our lives since then has been blessed +with it and with a peace that has lightened every sorrow; of it, I +can truly say that it passeth all understanding. + +'Look here, folks!' said Uncle Eb, after awhile, as he got his flute, +'my feelin's hev been teched hard. If I don't hev some jollification +I'll bust. Bill Brower, limber up yer leather a leetle bit.' + + + +Chapter 44 + +Nehemiah, whom I had known as John Trumbull, sat a long time +between his father and mother, holding a hand of each, and talking +in a low tone, while Hope and I were in the kitchen with Uncle Eb. +Now that father and son were side by side we saw how like they +were and wondered we bad never guessed the truth. + +'Do you remember?' said Nehemiah, when we returned. 'Do you +remember when you were a little boy, coming one night to the old +log house on Bowman's Hill with Uncle Eb? + +'I remember it very well,' I answered. + +'That was the first time I ever saw you,' he said. + +'Why, you are not the night man?' + +'I was the night man,' he answered. + +I stared at him with something of the old, familiar thrill that had +always come at the mention of him years agone. + +'He's grown a leetle since then,' said Uncle Eb. + +'I thought so the night I carried him off the field at Bull Run,' said +Nehemiah. + +'Was that you?' I asked eagerly. + +'It was,' he answered. 'I came over from Washington that +afternoon. Your colonel told me you had been wounded. + +'Wondered who you were, but I could not get you to answer. I have +to thank you for my life. + +Hope put her arms about his neck and kissed him. + +'Tell us,' said she, 'how you came to be the night man.' + +He folded his arms and looked down and began his story. + +'Years ago I had a great misfortune. I was a mere boy at the time. +By accident I killed another boy in play. It was an old gun we were +playing with and nobody knew it was loaded. I had often +quarrelled with the other boy - that is why they thought I had done +it on purpose. There was a dance that night. I had got up in the +evening, crawled out of the window and stolen away. We were in +Rickard's stable. I remember how the people ran out with lanterns. +They would have hung me - some of them - or given me the blue +beech, if a boy friend had not hurried me away. It was a terrible +hour. I was stunned; I could say nothing. They drove me to the +'Burg, the boy's father chasing us. I got over into Canada, walked +to Montreal and there went to sea. It was foolish, I know, but I was +only a boy of fifteen. I took another name; I began a new life. +Nehemiah Brower was like one dead. In 'Frisco I saw Ben Gilman. +He had been a school mate in Faraway. He put his hand on my +shoulder and called me the old name. It was hard to deny it - the +hardest thing I ever did. I was homesick; I wanted to ask him about +my mother and father and my sister, who was a baby when I left. I +would have given my life to talk with him. But I shook my head. + +'"No," I said, "my name is not Brower. You are mistaken." + +'Then I walked away and Nemy Brower stayed in his grave. + +'Well, two years later we were cruising from Sidney to Van +Dieman's Land. One night there came a big storm. A shipmate was +washed away in the dark. We never saw him again. They found a +letter in his box that said his real name was Nehemiah Brower, son +of David Brower, of Faraway, NY, USA. I put it there, of course, +and the captain wrote a letter to my father about the death of his +son. My old self was near done for and the man Trumbull had a +new lease of life. You see in my madness I had convicted and +executed myself. + +He paused a moment. His mother put her hand upon his shoulder +with a word of gentle sympathy. Then he went on. + +'Well, six years after I had gone away, one evening in midsummer, +we came into the harbour of Quebec. I had been long in the +southern seas. When I went ashore, on a day's leave, and wandered +off in the fields and got the smell of the north, I went out of my +head - went crazy for a look at the hills o' Faraway and my own +people. Nothing could stop me then. I drew my pay, packed my +things in a bag and off I went. Left the 'Burg afoot the day after; +got to Faraway in the evening. It was beautiful - the scent o' the +new hay that stood in cocks and rows on the hill - the noise +o' the crickets - the smell o' the grain - the old house, just as I +remembered them; just as I had dreamed of them a thousand times. +And - when I went by the gate Bony - my old dog - came out and +barked at - me and I spoke to him and he knew me and came and +licked my hands, rubbing upon my leg. I sat down with him there +by the stone wall and - the kiss of that old dog - the first token of +love I had known for years' called back the dead and all that had +been his. I put my arms about his - neck and was near crying out +with joy. + +'Then I stole up to the house and looked in at a window. There sat +father, at a table, reading his paper; and a little girl was on her +knees by mother saying her prayers. He stopped a moment, +covering his eyes with his handkerchief. + +'That was Hope,' I whispered. + +'That was Hope,' he went on. 'All the king's oxen could not +have dragged me out of Faraway then. Late at night I went off +into the woods. The old dog followed to stay with me until he died. +If it had not been for him I should have been hopeless. I had with +me enough to eat for a time. We found a cave in a big ledge over +back of Bull Pond. Its mouth was covered with briars. It had a big +room and a stream of cold water trickling through a crevice. I +made it my home and a fine place it was - cool in summer and +warm in winter. I caught a cub panther that fall and a baby coon. +They grew up with me there and were the only friends I had after +Bony, except Uncle Eb. + +'Uncle Eb!' I exclaimed. + +'You know how I met him,' he continued. 'Well, he won my +confidence. I told him my history. I came into the clearing +almost every night. Met him often. He tried to persuade me to +come back to my people, but I could not do it. I was insane; I +feared something - I did not know what. Sometimes I doubted +even my own identity. Many a summer night I sat talking for +hours, with Uncle Eb, at the foot of Lone Pine. O, he was like a +father to me! God knows what I should have done without him. +Well, I stuck to my life, or rather to my death, O - there in the +woods - getting fish out of the brooks and game out of the forest, +and milk out of the cows in the pasture. Sometimes I went through +the woods to the store at Tifton for flour and pork. One night +Uncle Eb told me if I would go out among men to try my hand at +some sort of business he would start me with a thousand dollars. +Well, I did - it. I had also a hundred dollars of my own. I came +through the woods afoot. Bought fashionable clothing at Utica, +and came to the big city - you know the rest. Among men my fear +has left me, so I wonder at it. I am a debtor to love - the love of +Uncle Eb and that of a noble woman I shall soon marry. It has +made me whole and brought me back to my own people. + +'And everybody knew he was innocent the day after he left,' said +David. + +'Three cheers for Uncle Eb!' I demanded. + +And we gave them. + +'I declare!' said he. 'In all my born days never see sech fun. It's +tree-menjious! I tell ye. Them 'et takes care uv others'll be took +care uv - 'less they do it o'purpose.' + +And when the rest of us had gone to bed Uncle Eb sat awhile by +the fire with David. Late at night he came upstairs with his candle. +He came over to my bed on tiptoe to see if I were awake, holding +the candle above my head. I was worn out and did not open my +eyes. He sat down snickering. + +'Tell ye one thing, Dave Brower,' he whispered to himself as he +drew off his boots, 'when some folks calls ye a fool 's a purty good +sign ye ain't.' + + + +Chapter 45 + +Since that day I have seen much coming and going. + +We are now the old folks - Margaret and Nehemiah and Hope and +I. Those others, with their rugged strength, their simple ways, their +undying youth, are of the past. The young folks - they are a new +kind of people. It gives us comfort to think they will never have to +sing in choirs or 'pound the rock' for board money; but I know it is +the worse luck for them. They are a fine lot of young men and +women - comely and well-mannered - but they will not be the +pathfinders of the future. What with balls and dinners and clubs +and theatres, they find too great a solace in the rear rank. + +Nearly twenty years after that memorable Christmas, coming from +Buffalo to New York one summer morning, my thoughts went +astray in the north country. The familiar faces, the old scenes came +trooping by and that very day I saw the sun set in Hillsborough as I +had often those late years. + +Mother was living in the old home, alone, with a daughter of +Grandma Bisnette. It was her wish to live and die under that roof. +She cooked me a fine supper, with her own hands, and a great +anxiety to please me. + +'Come Willie!' said she, as if I were a small boy again, 'you fill the +woodbox an' I'll git supper ready. Lucindy, you clear out,' she said +to the hired girl, good-naturedly. 'You dunno how t'cook for him.' + +I filled the woodbox and brought a pail of water and while she was +frying the ham and eggs read to her part of a speech I had made in +Congress. Before thousands I had never felt more elation. At last I +was sure of winning her applause. The little bent figure stood, +thoughtfully, turning the ham and eggs. She put the spider aside, to +stand near me, her hands upon her hips. There was a mighty pride +in her face when I had finished. + +I rose and she went and looked out of the window. + +'Grand!' she murmured, wiping her eyes with the corner of her +handkerchief. + +'Glad you like it,' I said, with great satisfaction. + +'O, the speech!' she answered, her elbow resting on the window +sash, her hand supporting her head. 'I liked it very well - but - but I +was thinking of the sunset. How beautiful it is. + +I was weary after my day of travel and went early to bed there in +my old room. I left her finishing a pair of socks she had been +knitting for me. Lying in bed, I could hear the creak of her chair +and the low sung, familiar words: + +'On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden, Where the +tree of life is blooming, There is rest for you. + +Late at night she came into my room with a candle. I heard her +come softly to the bed where she stood a moment leaning over me. +Then she drew the quilt about my shoulder with a gentle hand. + +'Poor little orphan!' said she, in a whisper that trembled. She was +thinking of my childhood - of her own happier days. + +Then she went away and I heard, in the silence, a ripple of +measureless waters. + +Next morning I took flowers and strewed them on the graves of +David and Uncle Eb; there, Hope and I go often to sit for half a +summer day above those perished forms, and think of the old time +and of those last words of my venerable friend now graven on his +tombstone: + +I AIN'T AFRAID. +'SHAMED O'NUTHIN'I EVER DONE. +ALWUSS KEP'MY TUGS TIGHT, +NEVER SWORE 'LESS 'TWAS NECESSARY, +NEVER KETCHED A FISH BIGGER 'N 'TWAS +ER LIED 'N A HOSS TRADE +ER SHED A TEAR I DIDN'T HEV TO. +NEVER CHEATED ANYBODY BUT EBEN HOLDEN. +GOIN' OFF SOMEWHERES, BILL +DUNNO THE WAY NUTHER +DUNNO 'F IT'S EAST ER WEST ER NORTH ER SOUTH, +ER ROAD ER TRAIL; +BUT I AIN'T AFRAID. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, EBEN HOLDEN *** + +This file should be named bnhld11.txt or bnhld11.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, bnhld12.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, bnhld11a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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