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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36148-8.txt b/36148-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed318bd --- /dev/null +++ b/36148-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4741 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Mosaics, by Maurice Thompson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hoosier Mosaics + +Author: Maurice Thompson + +Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36148] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + Affectionately to my Father, + The Reverend GRIGG THOMPSON. + + + + + HOOSIER MOSAICS. + + By MAURICE THOMPSON. + + + NEW YORK: + E. J. HALE & SON, PUBLISHERS, + MURRAY STREET. + 1875. + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by + E. J. HALE & SON, + In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE. + + _WAS SHE A BOY?_ _7_ + + TROUT'S LUCK, 29 + + _BIG MEDICINE_, _50_ + + _THE VENUS OF BALHINCH_, _76_ + + THE LEGEND OF POTATO CREEK, 92 + + _STEALING A CONDUCTOR_, _114_ + + HOIDEN, 127 + + THE PEDAGOGUE, 162 + + AN IDYL OF THE ROD, 188 + + + + +WAS SHE A BOY? + + +No matter what business or what pleasure took me, I once, not long ago, +went to Colfax. Whisper it not to each other that I was seeking a +foreign appointment through the influence of my fellow Hoosier, the late +Vice-President of the United States. O no, I didn't go to the Hon. +Schuyler Colfax at all; but I went to Colfax, simply, which is a little +dingy town, in Clinton County, that was formerly called Midway, because +it is half way between Lafayette and Indianapolis. It was and is a place +of some three hundred inhabitants, eking out an aguish subsistence, +maintaining a swampy, malarious aspect, keeping up a bilious, nay, an +atra-bilious color, the year round, by sucking like an attenuated leech +at the junction, or, rather, the crossing of the I. C. & L., and the L. +C. & S. W. railroads. It lay mouldering, like something lost and +forgotten, slowly rotting in the swamp. + +I do not mean to attack the inhabitants of Colfax, for they were good +people, and deserved a better fate than the eternal rattling the ague +took them through from year's end to year's end. Why, they had had the +ague so long that they had no respect for it at all. I've seen a woman +in Colfax shaking with a chill, spanking a baby that had a chill, and +scolding a husband who had a chill, all at once--and I had a dreadful +ague on me at the same time! But, as I have said, they were good people, +and I suppose they are still. They go quietly about the usual business +of dead towns. They have "stores" in which they offer for sale calico, +of the big-figured, orange and red sort, surprisingly cheap. They smoke +those little Cuba sixes at a half cent apiece, and call them cigars; +they hang round the dépôt, and trade jack-knives and lottery watches on +the afternoons of lazy Sundays; they make harmless sport of the incoming +and outgoing country folk; and, in a word, keep pretty busy at one thing +or another, and above all--they shake. + +In Colfax the chief sources of exciting amusement are dog fights and an +occasional row at Sheehan's saloon, a doggery of the regular +old-fashioned, drink, gamble, rob and fight sort--a low place, known to +all the hard bats in the State. + +As you pass through the town you will not fail to notice a big sign, +outhanging from the front of the largest building on the principal +street, which reads: "Union Hotel, 1865." From the muddy suburbs of the +place, in every direction, stretch black muck swamps, for the most part +heavily timbered with a variety of oaks, interspersed with sycamores, +ash, and elms. In the damp, shady labyrinths of these boggy woods +millions of lively, wide awake, tuneful mosquitoes are daily +manufactured; and out from decaying logs and piles of fermenting leaves, +from the green pools and sluggish ditch streams, creeps a noxious gas, +known in that region as the "double refined, high pressure, forty hoss +power quintessential of the ager!" So, at least, I was told by the +landlord of the Union Hotel, and his skin had the color of one who knew. + +Notwithstanding what I have said, Colfax, in summer, is not wholly +without attractions of a certain kind. It has some yellow dogs and some +brindle ones; it has some cattle and some swine; it has some swallows +and some spotted pigeons; it has cool, fresh smelling winds, and, after +the water has sufficiently dried out, the woods are really glorious +with wild roses, violets, turkey-pea blossoms, and wild pinks. But to +my story. + +I was sitting on the long veranda of the Union Hotel, when a rough but +kindly voice said to me: + +"Mornin', stranger; gi' me a light, will ye?" + +I looked up from the miserable dime novel at which I had been tugging +for the last hour, and saw before me a corpulent man of, perhaps, +forty-five years of age, who stood quite ready to thrust the charred end +of a cigar stump into the bowl of my meerschaum. I gave him a match, and +would fain have returned to Angelina St. Fortescue, the heroine of the +novel, whom I had left standing on the extreme giddy verge of a sheer +Alpine precipice, known, by actual triangulation, to be just seven +thousand feet high, swearing she would leap off if Donald Gougerizeout, +the robber, persisted further in his rough addresses; but my new friend, +the corpulent smoker, seemed bent on a little bit of conversation. + +"Thankee, sir. Fine mornin', sir, a'n't it?" + +"Beautiful," I replied, raising my head, elevating my arms, and, by a +kind of yawn, taking in a deep draught of the fresh spring weather, +absorbing it, assimilating it, till, like a wave of retarded +electricity, it set my nerves in tune for enjoying the bird songs, and +filled my blood with the ecstasy of vigorous health and youth. I, no +doubt, just then felt the burden of life much less than did the big +yellow dog at my feet, who snapped lazily at the flies. + +"Yes, yes, this 'ere's a fine mornin'--julicious, sir, julicious, +indeed; but le' me tell ye, sir, this 'ere wind's mighty deceitful--for +a fact it is, sir, jist as full of ager as a acorn is of meat. It's +blowin' right off'n ponds, and is loaded chock down with the miasm--for +a fact it is, sir." + +While delivering this speech, the fat man sat down on the bench beside +me there in the veranda. By this time I had my thumbs in the arm holes +of my vest, and my chest expanded to its utmost--my lungs going like a +steam bellows, which is a way I have in fine weather. + +"Monstrous set o' respiratory organs, them o' your'n," he said, eyeing +my manoeuvres. Just then I discovered that he was a physician of the +steam doctor sort, for, glancing down at my feet, I espied his well worn +leather medicine bags. I immediately grew polite. Possibly I might ere +long need some quinine, or mandrake, or a hot steam bath--anything for +the ague! + +"Yes, I've got lungs like a porpoise," I replied, "but still the ague +may get me. Much sickness about here, Doctor----a----a----what do they +call your name?" + +"Benjamin Hurd--Doctor Hurd, they call me. I'm the only thorer bred +botanic that's in these parts. I do poorty much all the practice about +here. Yes, there's considerable of ager and phthisic and bilious fever. +Keeps me busy most of my time. These nasty swamps, you know." + +After a time our conversation flagged, and the doctor having lit a fresh +cigar, we smoked in silence. The wind was driving the dust along the +street in heavy waves, and I sat watching a couple of lean, spotted +calves making their way against the tide. They held their heads low and +shut their eyes, now and then bawling vigorously. Some one up stairs was +playing "Days of Absence" on a wretched wheezing accordeon. + +"There's a case of asthma, doctor," I said, intending to be witty. But +my remark was not noticed. The doctor was in a brown study, from which +my words had not startled him. Presently he said, as if talking to +himself, and without taking the cigar from his mouth: + +"'Twas just a year ago to-night, the 28th day of May, 'at they took 'er +away. And he'll die afore day to a dead certainty. Beats all the denied +queer things I ever seed or heerd of." + +He was poking with the toe of his boot in the dust on the veranda floor, +as he spoke, and stealing a glance at his face, I saw that it wore an +abstracted, dreamy, perplexed look. + +"What was your remark, doctor?" I asked, more to arouse him than from +any hope of being interested. + +"Hum!--ah, yes," he said, starting, and beginning a vigorous puffing. +"Ah, yes, I was cogitatin' over this matter o' Berry Young's. Never have +been able to 'count for that, no how. Think about it more an' more every +day. What's your theory of it?" + +"Can't say, never having heard anything of it," I replied. + +"Well, I do say! Thought everybody had hearn of that, any how! It's a +rale romance, a reg'lar mystery, sir. It's been talked about, and writ +about in the papers so much 'at I s'posed 'at it was knowed of far and +wide." + +"I've been in California for several years past," I replied, by way of +excuse for my ignorance of even the vaguest outline of the affair, +whatever it might be. + +"Well, you see, a leetle more'n a year ago a gal an' her father come +here and stopped at this 'ere very hotel. The man must 'a' been som'res +near sixty years old; but the gal was young, and jist the poortiest +thing I ever seed in all my life. I couldn't describe how she looked at +all; but everybody 'at saw her said she was the beautifulest creatur +they ever laid eyes onto. Where these two folks come from nobody ever +knowed, but they seemed like mighty nice sort of persons, and everybody +liked 'em, 'specially the gal. Somehow, from the very start, a kind of +mystery hung 'round 'em. They seemed always to have gobs o' money, and +onct in awhile some little thing'd turn up to make folks kinder juberous +somehow 'at they wasn't jist what they ginerally seemed to be. But that +gal was fascinatin' as a snake, and as poorty as any picter. Her flesh +looked like tinted wax mixed with moon-shine, and her eyes was as clear +as a lime-stone spring--though they was dark as night. She was that full +of restless animal life 'at she couldn't set still--she roamed round +like a leopard in a cage, and she'd romp equal to a ten-year-old boy. +Well, as mought be expected, sich a gal as that 'ere 'd 'tract attention +in these parts, and I must say 'at the young fellows here did git +'bominable sweet on her. 'Casionally two of 'em 'd git out in the swamps +and have a awful fight on her 'count; but she 'peared to pay precious +little 'tention to any of 'em till finally Berry Young stepped in and +jist went for 'er like mad, and she took to 'm. Berry was r'ally the +nicest and intelligentest young man in all this country. He writ poetry +for the papers, sir--snatchin' good poetry, too--and had got to be +talked of a right smart for his larnin', an' 'complishments. He was good +lookin', too; powerful handsome, for a fact, sir. So they was to be +married, Berry and the gal, an' the time it was sot, an' the day it +come, an' all was ready, an' the young folks was on the floor, and the +'squire was jist a commencin' to say the ceremony, when lo! and +beholden, four big, awful, rough lookin' men rushed in with big pistols +and mighty terrible bowie knives, and big papers and big seals, and said +they was a sheriff and possum from Kaintucky. They jist jumped right +onto the gal an' her father an' han'cuffed 'em, an' took 'em!" + +"Handcuffed them and took them!" I repeated, suddenly growing intensely +interested. This was beating my dime novel, for sensation, all hollow. + +"Yes, sir, han'cuffed 'em an' took 'em, an' away they went, an' they've +not been hearn of since to this day. But the mysteriousest thing about +the whole business was that when the sheriff grabbed the gal he called +her George, and said she wasn't no gal at all, but jist a terrible onery +boy 'at had been stealin' an' counterfeitin' an' robbin' all round +everywhere. What d'ye think of that?" + +"A remarkably strange affair, certainly," I replied; "and do you say +that the father and the girl have not since been heard from?" + +"Never a breath. The thing got into all the newspapers and raised a +awful rumpus, and it turned out that it wasn't no sheriff 'at come +there; but some dark, mysterious kidnappin' transaction 'at nobody could +account for. Detectives was put on their track an' follered 'em to Injun +territory an' there lost 'em. Some big robberies was connected with the +affair, but folks could never git head nor tail of the partic'lers." + +"And it wasn't a real sheriff's arrest, then?" said I. + +"No, sir, 'twas jist a mystery. Some kind of a dodge of a band of +desperadoes to avoid the law some way. The papers tried to explain it, +but I never could see any sense to it. 'Twas a clean, dead mystery. But +I was goin' on to tell ye 'at Berry Young took it awful hard 'bout the +gal, an' he's been sort o' sinkin' away ever sence, an' now he's jist +ready to wink out. Yonder's where Berry lives, in that 'ere white +cottage house with the vines round the winder. He's desp'rit sick--a +sort o' consumption. I'm goin' to see 'im now; good mornin' to ye." + +Thus abruptly ending our interview, the doctor took up his medicine bag +and went his way. He left me in a really excited state of mind; the +story of itself was so strange, and the narrator had told it so solemnly +and graphically. I suppose, too, that I must have been in just the +proper state of mind for that rough outline, that cartoon of a most +startling and mysterious affair, to become deeply impressed in my mind, +perhaps, in the most fascinating and fantastic light possible. A thirst +to know more of the story took strong hold on my mind, as if I had been +reading a tantalizing romance and had found the leaves torn out just +where the mystery was to be explained. I half closed my eyes to better +keep in the lines and shades of the strange picture. Its influence lay +upon me like a spell. I enjoyed it. It was a luxury. + +The wings of the morning wind fanned the heat into broken waves, rising +and sinking, and flowing on, with murmur and flash and glimmer, to the +cool green ways of the woods, and, like the wind, my fancy went out +among golden fleece clouds and into shady places, following the thread +of this new romance. I cannot give a sufficient reason why the story +took so fast a hold on me. But it did grip my mind and master it. It +appeared to me the most intensely strange affair I had ever heard of. + +While I sat there, lost in reflection, with my eyes bent on a very +unpromising pig, that wallowed in the damp earth by the town pump, the +landlord of the hotel came out and took a seat beside me. I gave him a +pipe of my tobacco and forthwith began plying him with questions +touching the affair of which the doctor had spoken. He confirmed the +story, and added to its mystery by going minutely into its details. He +gave the names of the father and daughter as Charles Afton and Ollie +Afton. + +Ollie Afton! Certainly no name sounds sweeter! How is it that these +gifted, mysteriously beautiful persons always have musical names! + +"Ah," said the landlord, "you'd ort to have seen that boy!" + +"Boy!" I echoed. + +"Well, gal or boy, one or t'other, the wonderfulest human bein' I ever +see in all the days o' my life! Lips as red as ripe cur'n's, and for +ever smilin'. Such smiles--oonkoo! they hurt a feller all over, they was +so sweet. She was tall an' dark, an' had black hair that curled short +all 'round her head. Her skin was wonderful clear and so was her eyes. +But it was the way she looked at you that got you. Ah, sir, she had a +power in them eyes, to be sure!" + +The pig got up from his muddy place by the pump, grunted, as if +satisfied, and slowly strolled off; a country lad drove past, riding +astride the hounds of a wagon; a pigeon lit on the comb of the roof of +Sheehan's saloon, which was just across the street, and began pluming +itself. Just then the landlord's little sharp-nosed, weasel-eyed boy +came out and said, in a very subdued tone of voice: + +"Pap, mam says 'at if you don't kill 'er that 'ere chicken for dinner +you kin go widout any fing to eat all she cares." + +The landlord's spouse was a red-headed woman, so he got up very suddenly +and took himself into the house. But before he got out of hearing the +little boy remarked: + +"Pap, I speaks for the gizzard of that 'ere chicken, d'ye hear, now?" + +I sat there till the dinner hour, watching the soft pink and white +vapors that rolled round the verge of the horizon. I was thoroughly +saturated with romance. Strange, that here, in this dingy little +out-of-the-way village, should have transpired one of the most wonderful +mysteries history may ever hold! + +At dinner the landlord talked volubly of the Afton affair, giving it as +his opinion that the Aftons were persons tinged with negro blood, and +had been kidnapped into slavery. + +"They was jist as white, an' whiter, too, than I am," he went on, "but +them Southerners'd jist as soon sell one person as 'nother, anyhow." + +I noticed particularly that the little boy got his choice bit of the +fowl. He turned his head one side and ate like a cat. + +When the meal was over I was again joined by Doctor Hurd on the +verandah. He reported Berry Young still alive, but not able to live till +midnight. I noticed that the doctor was nervous and kept his eyes fixed +on Sheehan's saloon. + +"Stranger," said he, leaning over close to me, and speaking in a low, +guarded way, "things is workin' dasted curious 'bout now--sure's gun's +iron they jist is!" + +"Where--how--in what way, doctor?" I stammered, taken aback by his +behavior. + +"Sumpum's up, as sure as Ned!" he replied, wagging his head. + +"Doctor," I said, petulantly, "if you would be a trifle more explicit I +could probably guess, with some show of certainty, at what you mean!" + +"Can't ye hear? Are ye deaf? Did ye ever, in all yer born days, hear a +voice like that ere 'un? Listen!" + +Sure enough, a voice of thrilling power, a rich, heavy, quavering alto, +accompanied by some one thrumming on a guitar, trickled and gurgled, and +poured through the open window of Sheehan's saloon. The song was a wild, +drinking carol, full of rough, reckless wit, but I listened, entranced, +till it was done. + +"There now, say, what d'ye think o' that? Ain't things a workin' round +awful curious, as I said?" + +Delivering himself thus, the doctor got up and walked off. + +When I again had an opportunity to speak to the landlord, I asked him if +Doctor Hurd was not thought to be slightly demented. + +"What! crazy, do you mean? No, sir; bright as a pin!" + +"Well," said I, "he's a very queer fellow any how. By the way, who was +that singing just now over in the saloon there?" + +"Don't know, didn't hear 'em. Some of the boys, I s'pose. They have some +lively swells over there sometimes. Awful hole." + +I resumed my dime novel, and nothing further transpired to aggravate or +satisfy my curiosity concerning the strange story I had heard, till +night came down and the bats began to wheel through the moonless +blackness above the dingy town. At the coming on of dusk I flung away +the book and took to my pipe. Some one touched me on the shoulder, +rousing me from a deep reverie, if not a doze. + +"Ha, stranger, this you, eh? Berry Young's a dyin'; go over there wi' +me, will ye?" + +It was the voice of Doctor Hurd. + +"What need for me have you?" I replied, rather stiffly, not much +relishing this too obtrusive familiarity. + +"Well--I--I jist kinder wanted ye to go over. The poor boy's 'bout +passin' away, an' things is a workin' so tarnation curious! Come 'long +wi' me, friend, will ye?" + +Something in the fellow's voice touched me, and without another word I +arose and followed him to the cottage. The night was intensely black. I +think it was clear, but a heavy fog from the swamps had settled over +everything, and through this dismal veil the voices of owls from far and +near struck with hollow, sepulchral effect. + +"A heart is the trump!" sang out that alto voice from within the saloon +as we passed. + +Doctor Hurd clutched my arm and muttered: + +"That's that voice ag'in! Strange--strange! Poor Berry Young!" + +We entered the cottage and found ourselves in a cosy little room, where, +on a low bed, a pale, intelligent looking young man lay, evidently +dying. He was very much emaciated, his eyes, wonderfully large and +luminous, were sunken, and his breathing quick and difficult. A haggard, +watching-worn woman sat by his bed. From her resemblance to him I took +her to be his sister. She was evidently very unwell herself. We sat in +silence by his bedside, watching his life flow into eternity, till the +little clock on the mantel struck, sharp and clear, the hour of ten. + +The sound of the bell startled the sick man, and after some incoherent +mumbling he said, quite distinctly: + +"Sister, if you ever again see Ollie Afton, tell him--tell her--tell, +say I forgive him--say to her--him--I loved her all my life--tell +him--ah! what was I saying? Don't cry, sis, please. What a sweet, +faithful sister! Ah! it's almost over, dear----Ah, me!" + +For some minutes the sister's sobbing echoed strangely through the +house. The dying man drew his head far down in the soft pillow. A breath +of damp air stole through the room. + +All at once, right under the window by which the bed sat, arose a +touching guitar prelude--a tangled mesh of melody--gusty, throbbing, +wandering through the room and straying off into the night, tossing back +its trembling echoes fainter and fainter, till, as it began to die, that +same splendid alto voice caught the key and flooded the darkness with +song. The sick man raised himself on his elbow, and his face flashed out +the terrible smile of death. He listened eagerly. It was the song "Come +Where my Love lies Dreaming," but who has heard it rendered as it was +that night? Every chord of the voice was as sweet and witching as a wind +harp's, and the low, humming undertone of the accompaniment was +perfection. Tenderly but awfully sweet, the music at length faded into +utter silence, and Berry Young sank limp and pallid upon his pillows. + +"It is Ollie," he hoarsely whispered. "Tell her--tell him--O say to her +for me--ah! water, sis, it's all over!" + +The woman hastened, but before she could get the water to his lips he +was dead. His last word was Ollie. + +The sister cast herself upon the dead man's bosom and sobbed wildly, +piteously. Soon after this some neighbors came in, which gave me an +opportunity to quietly take my leave. + +The night was so foggy and dark that, but for a bright stream of light +from a window of Sheehan's saloon, it would have been hard for me to +find my way back to the hotel. I did find it, however, and sat down upon +the verandah. I had nearly fallen asleep, thinking over the strange +occurrences of the past few hours, when the rumble of an approaching +train of cars on the I. C. & L. from the east aroused me, and, at the +same moment, a great noise began over in the saloon. High words, a few +bitter oaths, a struggle as of persons fighting, a loud, sonorous crash +like the crushing of a musical instrument, and then I saw the burly bar +tender hurl some one out through the doorway just as the express train +stopped close by. + +"All aboard!" cried the conductor, waving his lantern. At the same +time, as the bar-tender stood in the light of his doorway, a brickbat, +whizzing from the darkness, struck him full in the face, knocking him +precipitately back at full length on to the floor of the saloon. + +"All aboard!" repeated the conductor. + +"All aboard!" jeeringly echoed a delicious alto voice; and I saw a +slender man step up on the rear platform of the smoking car. A flash +from the conductor's lantern lit up for a moment this fellow's face, and +it was the most beautiful visage I have ever seen. Extremely youthful, +dark, resplendent, glorious, set round with waves and ringlets of black +hair--it was such a countenance as I have imagined a young Chaldean +might have had who was destined to the high calling of astrology. It was +a face to charm, to electrify the beholder with its indescribable, +almost unearthly loveliness of features and expression. + +The engine whistled, the bell rang, and as the train moved on, that +slender, almost fragile form and wonderful face disappeared in the +darkness. + +As the roar and clash of the receding cars began to grow faint in the +distance, a gurgling, grunting sound over in the saloon reminded me that +the bar-tender might need some attention, so I stepped across the +street and went in. He was just taking himself up from the floor, with +his nose badly smashed, spurting blood over him pretty freely. He was in +an ecstasy of fury and swore fearfully. I rendered him all the aid I +could, getting the blood stopped, at length, and a plaster over the +wound. + +"Who struck you?" I asked. + +"Who struck me? Who hit me with that 'ere brick, d'ye say? Who but that +little baby-faced, hawk-eyed cuss 'at got off here yesterday! He's a +thief and a dog!--he's chowzed me out'n my last cent! Where is he?--I'll +kill 'im yet! where is he?" + +"Gone off on the train," I replied, "but who is he? what's his name?" + +"Blamed if I know. Gone, you say? Got every derned red o' my money! +Every derned red!" + +"Don't you know anything at all about him?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"What?" + +"I know 'at he's the derndest, alfiredest, snatchin'est, best +poker-player 'at ever dealt a card!" + +"Is that all?" + +"That's enough, I'd say. If you'd been beat out'n two hundred an' odd +dollars you'd think you know'd a right smart, wouldn't ye?" + +"Perhaps," said I. The question had a world of philosophy and logic in +it. + +The shattered wreck of a magnificent guitar lay in the middle of the +floor. I picked it up, and, engraved on a heavy silver plate set in the +ebony neck, I read the name, Georgina Olive Afton. + + + + +TROUT'S LUCK. + + +As early as eight o'clock the grand entrance gateway to the Kokomo fair +ground was thronged with vehicles of almost every kind; horsemen, +pedestrians, dogs and dust were borne forward together in clouds that +boiled and swayed and tumbled. Noise seemed to be the chief purpose of +every one and the one certain result of every thing in the crowd. + +This had been advertised as the merriest day that might ever befall the +quiet, honest folk of the rural regions circumjacent to Kokomo, and it +is even hinted that aristocratic dames and business plethoric men of the +town itself had caught somewhat of the excitement spread abroad by the +announcement in the county papers, and by huge bills posted in +conspicuous places, touching Le Papillon and his monster balloon, which +balloon and which Le Papillon were pictured to the life, on the said +posters, in the act of sailing over the sun, and under the picture, in +remarkably distinct letters, "No humbug! go to the fair!" + +Dozier's minstrel troupe was dancing and singing attendance on this +agricultural exhibition, too, and somebody's whirling pavilion, a +shooting gallery, a monkey show, the glass works, and what not of +tempting promises of entertainments, "amusing and instructive." + +Until eleven o'clock the entrance gateway to the fair ground was +crowded. Farm wagons trundled in, drawn by sleek, well fed plough nags, +and stowed full of smiling folk, old and young, male and female, from +the out townships; buggies with youths and maidens, the sparkle of +breastpins and flutter of ribbons; spring wagons full of students and +hard bats from town; carriages brimming with laces, flounces, over +skirts, fancy kid gloves, funny little hats and less bonnets, all +fermented into languid ebullition by mild-eyed ladies; omnibuses that +bore fleshy gentlemen, who wore linen dusters and silk hats and smoked +fine cigars; and jammed in among all these were boys on skittish colts, +old fellows on flea-bit gray mares, with now and then a reckless +stripling on a mule. Occasionally a dog got kicked or run over, giving +the assistance of his howls and yelps to the general din, and over all +the dust hung heavily in a yellow cloud, shot through with the lightning +of burnished trappings and echoing with the hoarse thunder of the +trampling, shouting rumbling multitude. Indeed, that hot aguish autumn +day let fall its sunshine on the heads and blew its feverish breath +through the rifts of the greatest and liveliest mass of people ever +assembled in Howard county. + +Inside the extensive enclosure the multitude divided itself into +streams, ponds, eddies, refluent currents and noisy whirlpools of +people. Some rare attraction was everywhere. + +Early in the day the eyes of certain of the rustic misses followed +admiringly the forms of Jack Trout and Bill Powell, handsome young +fellows dressed in homespun clothes, who, arm in arm, strolled leisurely +across the grounds, looking sharply about for some proper place to begin +the expenditure of what few dimes they had each been able to hoard up +against this gala day. They had not long to hunt. On every hand the +"hawkers hawked their wares." + +Rising and falling, tender-toned, deftly managed, a voice rang out +across the crowd pleading with those who had long desired a good +investment for their money, and begging them to be sure and not let slip +this last golden opportunity. + +"Only a half a dollah! Come right along this way now! Here's the great +golden scheme by which thousands have amassed untold fortunes! Here's +your only and last chance to get two ounces of first class candy, with +the probability of five dollars in gold coin, all for the small sum of +half a dollah! And the cry is--still they come!" + +The speaker was such a man as one often observes in a first class +railway car, with a stout valise beside him containing samples, dressed +with remarkable care, and ever on the alert to make one's acquaintance. +He stood on top of a small table or tripod, holding in his hand a green +pasteboard package just taken from a box at his feet. + +"Only a half a dollah and a fortune in your grasp! Here's the gold! Roll +right this way and run your pockets over!" + +Drifting round with the tide of impulsive pleasure seekers into which +they happened to fall, Jack Trout and Bill Powell floated past a bevy of +lasses, the prettiest of whom was Minny Hart, a girl whose healthy, +vivid beauty was fast luring Jack on to the rock of matrimonial +proposals. + +"Jimminy, but ain't she a little sweety!" exclaimed the latter, pinching +Bill's arm as they passed, and glancing lovingly at Minny. + +"You're tellin' the truth and talkin' it smooth," replied Bill, bowing +to the girls with the swagger peculiar to a rustic who imagines he has +turned a fine period. And with fluttering hearts the boys passed on. + +"Roll on ye torrents! Only a half a dollah! Right this way if you want +to become a bloated aristocrat in less than no time! Five dollahs in +gold for only a half a dollah! And whose the next lucky man?" + +Blown by the fickle, gusty breath of luck, our two young friends were +finally wafted to the feet of this oily vendor of prize packages, and +they there lodged, becalmed in breathless interest, to await their turn, +each full of faith in the yellow star of his fortune--a gold coin of the +value of five dollars. They stood attentively watching the results of +other men's investments, feeling their fingers tingle when now and then +some lucky fellow drew the coveted prize. Five dollars is a mighty +temptation to a poor country boy in Indiana. That sum will buy oceans of +fun at a fair where almost any "sight" is to be seen for the "small sum +of twenty-five cents!" + +Without stopping to take into consideration the possible, or rather, the +probable result of such a venture, Bill Powell handed up his half +dollar to the prize man, thus risking the major part of all the money he +had, and stood trembling with excitement while the fellow broke open the +chosen package. Was it significant of anything that a blue jay fluttered +for a moment right over the crier's head just at the point of his +detaching some glittering object from the contents of the box? + +"Here you are, my friend; luck's a fortune!" yelled the man, as he held +the gold coin high above his head, shaking it in full view of all eyes +in the multitude. "Here you are! which 'd you rather have, the gold or +five and a half in greenbacks?" + +"Hand me in the rag chips--gold don't feel good to my fingers," answered +Bill Powell, swaggering again and grasping the currency with a hand that +shook with eagerness. + +Jack Trout stood by, clutching in his feverish palm a two-dollar bill. +His face was pale, his lips set, his muscles rigid. He hesitated to +trust in the star of his destiny. He stood eyeing the bridge of Lodi, +the dykes of Arcole. Would he risk all on a bold venture? His right +shoulder began to twitch convulsively. + +"Still it rolls, and who's the next lucky man? Don't all speak at once! +Who wants five dollahs in gold and two ounces of delicious candy, all +for the small sum of half a dollah?" + +Jack made a mighty effort and passed up his two dollar bill. + +"Bravely done; select your packages!" cried the vendor. Jack tremblingly +pointed them out. Very carelessly and quietly the fellow opened them, +and with a ludicrous grimace remarked-- + +"Eight ounces of mighty sweet candy, but nary a prize! Better luck next +time! Only a half a dollah! And who's the next lucky man?" + +A yell of laughter from the crowd greeted this occurrence, and Jack +floated back on the recoiling waves of his chagrin till he was hidden in +the dense concourse, and the uppermost thought in his mind found +forcible expression in the three monosyllables: "Hang the luck!" + +It is quite probable that of all the unfortunate adventurers that day +singed in the yellow fire of that expert gambler's gold, Jack recognized +himself as the most terribly burned. Putting his hands into his empty +pockets, he sauntered dolefully about, scarcely able to look straight +into the face of such friends as he chanced to meet. He acted as if +hunting for something lost on the ground. Poor fellow, it was a real +relief to him when some one treated him to a glass of lemonade, and, +indeed, so much were his feelings relieved by the cool potation, that +when, soon after, he met Minny Hart, he was actually smiling. + +"O, Jack!" cried the pretty girl, "I'm so glad to see you just now, for +I do want to go into the minstrel show _so bad_!" She shot a glance of +coquettish tenderness right into Jack's heart. For a single moment he +was blessed, but on feeling for his money and recalling the luckless +result of his late venture, he felt a chill creep up his back, and a +lump of the size of his fist jump up into his throat. Here was a bad +affair for him. He stood for a single point of time staring into the +face of his despair, then, acting on the only plan he could think of to +escape from the predicament, he said: + +"Wait a bit, Minny, I've got to go jist down here a piece to see a +feller. I'll be back d'rectly. You stay right here and when I come back +I'll trot you in." + +So speaking, as if in a great hurry, and sweating cold drops, with a +ghastly smile flickering on his face, the young man slipped away into +the crowd. + +Minny failed to notice his confusion, and so called after him cheerily: +"Well, hurry, Jack, for I'm most dead to see the show!" + +What could Trout do? He spun round and round in that vast flood of +people like a fish with but one eye. He rushed here, he darted there, +and ever and anon, as a lost man returns upon his starting point, he +came in sight of sweet Minny Hart patiently waiting for his return. Then +he would spring back into the crowd like a deer leaping back into a +thicket at sight of a hunter. Penniless at the fair, with Minny Hart +waiting for him to take her into the show! Few persons can realize how +keenly he now felt the loss of his money. He ought, no doubt, to have +told the lass at once just how financial matters stood; but nothing was +more remote from his mind than doing anything of the kind. He was too +vain. + +"Tell 'er I 'ain't got no money! No, sir-ee!" he muttered. "But what +_am_ I to do? Bust the luck! Hang the luck! Rot the luck!" + +He hurried hither and thither, intent on nothing and taking no heed of +the course he pursued. His cheeks were livid and his eyes had in them +that painful, worried, wistful look so often seen in the eyes of men +going home from ruin on Wall street. + +Meantime that sea of persons surged this way and that, flecked with a +foam of ribbons and dancing bubbles of hats, now flowing slowly through +the exhibition rooms a tide of critics, now breaking into groups and +scattered throngs of babblers, anon uniting to roar round some novel +engine suddenly set to work, or to break on the barrier of the trolling +ring into a spray of cravats and a mist of flounces. Swimming round in +this turbulent tide like a crazy flounder with but one fin, Jack finally +found himself hard by the pavilion of the minstrels. He could hear +somewhat of the side-splitting jokes, with the laughs that followed, the +tinkle of banjo accompaniments and the mellow cadences of plantation +songs, the rattle of castanets and the tattoo of the jig dancers' feet. +A thirst like the thirst of fever took hold of him. + +"Come straight along gentlemen and ladies! This celebrated troupe is now +performing and twenty-five cents pays the bill! Only a quawtah of a +dollah!" bawled the fat crier from his lofty perch. "That's right, my +young man, take the young lady in! She's sure to love you better; walk +right along!" + + "Her lip am sweet as sugah, + Her eye am bright as wine, + Dat yaller little boogah + Her name am Emiline!" + +sung by four fine voices, came bubbling from within. The music thrilled +Jack to the bone, and he felt once more for his money. Not a cent. This +was bad. + +"You're the lad for me," continued the fat man on the high seat; "take +your nice little sweetheart right in and let her see the fun. Walk right +in!" + +Jack looked to see who it was, and a pang shot through his heart and +settled in the very marrow of his bones; for lo! arm in arm, Bill Powell +and Minny Hart passed under the pavilion into the full glory of the +show! + + "O cut me up for fish bait + An' feed me to de swine, + Don't care where I goes to + So I has Emiline!" + +sang the minstrel chorus. + +"Dast him, he's got me!" muttered Jack as Bill and Minny disappeared +within. He turned away, sick at heart, and this was far from the first +throe of jealousy he had suffered on Bill's account. Indeed it had given +him no little uneasiness lately to see how sweetly Minny sometimes +smiled on young Powell. + +"Yes, sir," Jack continued to mutter to himself, "yes, sir, he's got me! +He's about three lengths ahead o' me, as these hoss fellers says, an' I +don't know but what I'm distanced. Blow the blasted luck!" + +Heartily tired of the fair, burning with rage, and jealousy, and +despair, but still vaguely hoping against hope for some better luck from +some visionary source, Jack strolled about, chewing the bitter cud of +his feelings, his hands up to his elbows in his trowser pockets and his +soul up to its ears in the flood of discontent. He puckered his mouth +into whistling position, but it refused to whistle. He felt as if he had +a corn cob crossways in his throat. The wind blew his new hat off and a +mule kicked the top out of the crown. + +"Only a half a dollah! Who's the next lucky man?" cried the prize +package fellow. "I'm now going to sell a new sort of packages, each of +which, beside the usual amount of choice candy, contains a piece of +jewelry of pure gold! Who takes the first chance for only a half a +dollah?" + +"'Ere's your mule!" answered Bill Powell, as with Minny still clinging +to his arm, he pushed through the crowd and handed up the money. + +"Bravely done!" shouted the crier; "see what a beautiful locket and +chain! Luck's a fortune! And who's the next to invest? Come right along +and don't be afraid of a little risk! Only a half a dollah!" + +Jack saw Bill put the glittering chain round Minny's neck and fasten the +locket in her belt; saw the eyes of the sweet girl gleam proudly, +gratefully; saw black spots dancing before his own eyes; saw Bill +swagger and toss his head. He turned dizzily away, whispering savagely, +"Dern 'im!" + +Just here let me say that such an expression is not a profane one. I +once saw a preacher kick at a little dog that got in his way on the +sidewalk. The minister's foot missed the little dog and hit an iron +fence, and the little dog bit the minister's other leg and jumped +through the fence. The minister performed a _pas de zephyr_ and very +distinctly said "Dern 'im!" Wherefore I don't think it can be anything +more than a mere puff of fretfulness. + +After this Jack was for some time standing near the entrance to the +"glass-works," a place where transparent steam engines and wonderful +fountains were on exhibition. He felt a grim delight in tantalizing +himself with looking at the pictures of these things and wishing he had +money enough to pay the entrance fee. He saw persons pass in eagerly +and come out calm and satisfied--men with their wives and children, +young men with girls on their arms, prominent among whom were Bill and +Minny, and one dapper sportsman even bought a ticket for his setter, +and, patting the brute on the head, took him in. + +"Onery nor a dog!" hissed Jack, shambling off, and once more taking a +long deep dive under the surface of the crowd. A ground swell cast him +again near the vender of prize packages. + +"Only a half a dollah!" he yelled; "come where fortune smiles, and cares +and poverty take flight, for only a half a dollah!" + +"Jist fifty cents more'n I've got about my clothes!" replied Jack, and +the bystanders, taking this for great wit, joined in a roar of laughter, +while with a grim smile the desperate youth passed on till he found +himself near the toe mark of a shooting gallery, where for five cents +one might have two shots with an air gun. He stood there for a time +watching a number of persons try their marksmanship. It was small joy to +know that he was a fine off-hand shot, so long as he had not a nickel in +his pocket, but still he stood there wishing he might try his hand. + +"Cl'ar the track here! Let this 'ere lady take a shoot!" cried a +familiar voice; and a way was opened for Bill Powell and Minny Hart. The +little maiden was placed at the toe mark and a gun given to her. She +handled the weapon like one used to it. She raised it, shut one eye, +took deliberate aim and fired. + +"Centre!" roared the marker, as to the sound of a bell the funny little +puppet leaped up and grinned above the target. Every body standing near +laughed and some of the boys cheered vociferously. Minny looked sweeter +than ever. Jack Trout felt famished. He begged a chew of tobacco of a +stranger, and, grinding the weed furiously, walked off to where the +yellow pavilion with its painted air-boats was whirling its cargoes of +happy boys and girls round and round for the "Small sum of ten cents." A +long, lean, red-headed fellow in one of the boats was paying for a ride +of limitless length by scraping on a miserable fiddle. To Jack this +seemed small labor for so much fun. How he envied the fiddler as he flew +round, trailing his tunes behind him! + +"Wo'erp there! Stop yer old merchine! We'll take a ride ef ye don't +keer!" + +The pavilion was stopped, a boat lowered for Bill Powell and Minny Hart, +who got in side by side, and the fiddler struck up the tune of +"Black-eyed Susie." Jack watched that happy couple go round and round, +till, by the increased velocity, their two faces melted into one, which +was neither Bill's nor Minny's--it was Luck's! + +"He's got one outo me," muttered Jack; "I've got no money, can't fiddle +for a ride, nor nothin', and I don't keer a ding what becomes o' me, +nohow!" + +With these words Jack wended his way to a remote part of the fair +ground, where, under gay awnings, the sutlers had spread their tempting +variety of cakes, pies, fruits, nuts and loaves. Here were persons of +all ages and sizes--men, women and children--eating at well supplied +tables. The sight was a fascinating one, and, though seeing others eat +did not in the least appease his own hunger, Jack stood for a long time +watching the departure of pies and the steady lessening of huge pyramids +of sweet cakes. He particularly noticed one little table that had on its +centre a huge peach pie, which table was yet unoccupied. While he was +actually thinking over the plan of eating the pie and trusting to his +legs to bear him beyond the reach of a dun, Bill and Minny sat down by +the table and proceeded to discuss the delicious, red-hearted heap of +pastry. At this point Bill caught Jack's eye: + +"Come here, Jack," said he; "this pie's more'n we can eat, come and help +us." + +"Yes, come along, Jack," put in Minny in her sweetest way; "I want to +tell you what a lot of fun we've had, and more than that, I want to know +why you didn't come back and take me into the show!" + +"I ain't hungry," muttered Jack, "and besides I've got to go see a +feller." + +He turned away almost choking. + +"Bill's got me. 'Taint no use talkin', I'm played out for good. I'm a +trumped Jack!" + +He smiled a sort of flinty smile at his poor wit, and shuffled aimlessly +along through the densest clots of the crowd. + +And it so continued to happen, that wherever Jack happened to stop for +any considerable length of time he was sure to see Bill and Minny +enjoying some rare treat, or disappearing in or emerging from some place +of amusement. + +At last, driven to desperation, he determined on trying to borrow a +dollar from his father. He immediately set about to find the old +gentleman; a task of no little difficulty in such a crowd. It was Jack's +forlorn hope, and it had a gloomy outlook; for old 'Squire Trout was +thought by competent judges to be the stingiest man in the county. But +hoping for the best, Jack hunted him here, there and everywhere, till at +length he met a friend who said he had seen the 'Squire in the act of +leaving the fair ground for home just a few minutes before. + +Taking no heed of what folks might say, Jack, on receiving this +intelligence, darted across the ground, out at the gate and down the +road at a speed worthy of success; but alas! his hopes were doomed to +wilt. At the first turn of the road he met a man who informed him that +he had passed 'Squire Trout some three miles out on his way home, which +home was full nine miles distant! + +Panting, crestfallen, defeated, done for, poor Jack slowly plodded back +to the fair ground gate, little dreaming of the new trouble that awaited +him there. + +"Ticket!" said a gruff voice as he was about to pass in. He recoiled, +amazed at his own stupidity, as he recollected that he had not thought +to get a check as he went out! He tried to explain, but it was no go. + +"You needn't try that game on me," said the gatekeeper. "So just plank +down your money or stay outside." + +Then Jack got furious, but the gatekeeper remarked that he had +frequently "hearn it thunder afore this!" + +Jack smiled like a corpse and turned away. Going a short distance down +the road he climbed up and sat down on top of the fence of a late mown +clover field. Then he took out his jack-knife and began to whittle a +splinter plucked from a rail. His face was gloomy, his eyes lustreless. +Finally he stretched himself, hungry, jealous, envious, hateful, on top +of the fence with his head between the crossed stakes. His face thus +upturned to heaven, he watched two crows drift over, high up in the +torrid reaches of autumn air, hot as summer, even hotter, and allowed +his lips free privilege to anathematize his luck. For a long time he lay +thus, dimly conscious of the blue bird's song and the water-like ripple +of the grass in the fence corners. "Minny, Minny Hart, Minny!" sang the +meadow larks, and the burden of the grasshopper's ditty was----"Only a +half a dollah!" + +All at once there arose from the fair ground a mighty chorus of yells, +that went echoing off across the country to the bluffs of Wild-cat Creek +and died far off in the woods toward Greentown. Jack did not raise his +head, but lay there in a sort of morose stupor, knowing well that +whatever the sport might be, he had no hand in it. + +"Let 'em rip!" he muttered, "Bill's got me!" + +Presently the wagons and other vehicles began to leave the ground, from +one of which he caught the sound of a sweet, familiar voice. He looked +just in time to get a glimpse of Mr. Hart's wagon, and in it, side by +side, Bill Powell and Minny! A cloud of yellow dust soon hid them, and +turning away his head, happening to glance upward, Jack saw, just +disappearing in a thin white cloud, the golden disc of Le Papillon's +balloon! + +He immediately descended from his perch and began plodding his way home, +muttering as he did so---- + +"Dast the luck! Ding the prize package feller! Doggone Bill Powell! +Blame the old b'loon! Dern everybody!" + +It was long after nightfall when he reached his father's gate. Hungry, +weak, foot-sore, collapsed, he leaned his chin on the top rail of the +gate and stood there for a moment while the starlight fell around him, +sifted through the dusky foliage of the old beech trees, and from the +far dim caverns of the night a voice smote on his ear, crying out +tenderly, mockingly, persuasively---- + +"Only a half a dollah!" + +And Jack slipped to his room and went supperless to bed, often during +the night muttering, through the interstices of his sleep----"Bill's got +me!" + + + + +BIG MEDICINE. + + +The corner brick storehouse--in fact the only brick building in +Jimtown--was to be sold at auction; and, consequently, by ten o'clock in +the morning, a considerable body of men had collected near the somewhat +dilapidated house, directly in front of which the auctioneer, a fat man +from Indianapolis, mounted on an old goods box, began crying, partly +through his tobacco-filled mouth and partly through his very unmusical +nose, as follows:-- + +"Come up, gentlemen, and examine the new, beautiful and commodious +property I now offer for sale! Walk round the house, men, and view it +from every side. Go into it, if you like, up stairs and down, and then +give me a bid, somebody, to start with. It is a very desirable house, +indeed, gentlemen." + +With this preliminary puff, the speaker paused and glanced slowly over +his audience with the air of a practiced physiognomist. The crowd +before him was, in many respects, an interesting one. Its most prominent +individual, and the hero of this sketch, was Dave Cook, sometimes called +Dr. Cook, but more commonly answering to the somewhat savage sounding +sobriquet of Big Medicine--a man some thirty-five years of age, standing +six feet six in his ponderous boots; broad, bony, muscular, a real +giant, with a strongly marked Roman face, and brown, shaggy hair. He was +dressed in a soiled and somewhat patched suit of butternut jeans, topped +off with a wide rimmed wool hat, wonderfully battered, and lopped in +every conceivable way. He wore a watch, the chain of which, depending +from the waistband of his pants, was of iron, and would have weighed +fully a pound avoirdupois. He stood quite still, near the auctioneer, +smoking a clay pipe, his herculean arms folded on his breast, his feet +far apart. As for the others of the crowd, they were, taken +collectively, about such as one used always to see in the "dark corners" +of Indiana, such as Boone county used to be before the building of any +railroads through it, such as the particular locality of Jimtown was +before the ditching law and the I. B. & W. Railway had lifted the fog +and enlightened the miasmatic swamps and densely timbered bog lands of +that region of elms, burr oaks, frogs and herons. Big Medicine seemed to +be the only utterly complacent man in the assembly. All the others +discovered evidences of much inward disturbance, muttering mysteriously +to each other, and casting curious, inquiring glances at an individual, +a stranger in the place, who, with a pair of queer green spectacles +astride his nose, and his arms crossed behind him, was slowly sauntering +about the building offered for sale, apparently examining it with some +care. His general appearance was that of a well dressed gentleman, which +of itself was enough to excite remark in Jimtown, especially when an +auction was on hand, and everybody felt jolly. + +"Them specs sticks to that nose o' his'n like a squir'l to a knot!" said +one. + +"His pantaloons is ruther inclined to be knock-kneed," put in an old, +grimy sinner leaning on a single barrelled shot gun. + +"Got lard enough onto his hair to shorten a mess o' pie crust," added a +liver colored boy. + +"Walks like he'd swallered a fence rail, too," chimed in a humpbacked +fellow split almost to his chin. + +"Chaws mighty fine terbacker, you bet." + +"Them there boots o' his'n set goin' an' comin' like a grubbin' hoe onto +a crooked han'le." + +"Well, take'm up one side and down t'other, he's a mod'rately onery +lookin' feller." + +These remarks were reckoned smart by those who perpetrated them, and +were by no means meant for real slurs on the individual at whom they +were pointed. Indeed they were delivered in guarded undertones, so that +he might not hear them; and he, meanwhile, utterly ignorant of affording +any sport, continued his examination of the house, the while some happy +frogs in a neighboring pond rolled out a rattling, jubilant chorus, and +the summer wind poured through the leafy tops of the tall elms and +athletic burr oaks with a swash and roar like a turbulent river. + +"What am I now offered for this magnificent property? Come, give me a +bid! Speak up lively! What do I hear for the house?" + +The auctioneer, as he spoke, let his eyes wander up the walls of the +old, dingy building, to where the blue birds and the peewees had built +in the cracks and along the warped cornice and broken window frames, and +just then it chanced that a woman's face appeared at one of those +staring holes, which, with broken lattice and shattered glass, still +might be called a window. The face was a plump, cheerful one, the more +radiant from contrast with the dull wall around it--a face one could +never forget, however, and would recall often, if for nothing but the +fine fall of yellow hair that framed it in. It was a sweet, winning, +intellectual face, full of the gentlest womanly charms. + +"Forty dollars for the house, 'oman and all!" cried Big Medicine, gazing +up at the window in which, for the merest moment, the face appeared. + +The man with the green spectacles darted a quick glance at the speaker. + +"I am bid forty dollars, gentlemen, forty dollars, do all hear? Agoing +for forty dollars! Who says fifty?" bawled the auctioneer. + +The crowd now swayed earnestly forward, closing in solid order around +the goods box. Many whiskered, uncouth, but not unkindly faces were +upturned to the window only in time to see the beautiful woman disappear +quite hastily. + +"Hooray for the gal!" cried a lusty youth, whose pale blue eyes made no +show of contrast with his faded hair and aguish complexion. "Dad, can't +ye bid agin the doctor so as I kin claim 'er?" + +"Fifty dollars!" shouted the sunburnt man addressed as Dad. + +This made the crowd lively. Every man nudged his neighbor, and the +aguish, blue-eyed boy grinned in a ghastly, self-satisfied way. + +"Agoing at fifty dollars! Fiddlesticks! The house is worth four +thousand. No fooling here now! Agoing at only fifty dollars--going--" + +"Six hundred dollars," said he of the green glasses in a clear, pleasant +voice. + +"Six hundred dollars!" echoed the auctioneer in a triumphant thunderous +tone. "That sounds like business. Who says the other hundred?" + +"Hooray for hooray, and hooray for hooray's daddy!" shouted the +tallow-faced lad. + +The frogs pitched their song an octave higher, the blue birds and +peewees wheeled through the falling floods of yellow sunlight, and lower +and sweeter rose the murmur of the tide of pulsating air as it lifted +and swayed the fresh sprays of the oaks and elms. The well dressed +stranger lighted a cigar, took off his green glasses and put them +carefully in his pocket, then took a cool straight look at Big Medicine. + +The Roman face of the latter was just then a most interesting one. It +was expressive of more than words could rightly convey. Six hundred +dollars, cash down, was a big sum for the crazy old house, but he had +made up his mind to buy it, and now he seemed likely to have to let it +go or pay more than it was worth. The stem of his clay pipe settled back +full three inches into his firmly-set mouth, so that there seemed +imminent danger to the huge brown moustache that overhung the fiery +bowl. He returned the stare of the stranger with interest, and said-- + +"Six hundred an' ten dollars." + +"Agoing, a----," began the auctioneer. + +"Six twenty," said the stranger. + +"Ago----." + +"Six twenty-one!" growled Big Medicine. + +"Six twenty-five!" quickly added his antagonist. + +Big Medicine glanced heavenward, and for a moment allowed his eyes to +follow the flight of a great blue heron that slowly winged its way, high +up in the yellow summer reaches of splendor, toward the distant swamps +where the white sycamores spread their fanciful arms above the dark +green maples and dusky witch-hazel thickets. The auctioneer, a close +observer, saw an ashy hue, a barely discernible shade, ripple across +the great Roman face as Big Medicine said, in a jerking tone: + +"Six twenty-five and a half!" + +The stranger took his cigar from his mouth and smiled placidly. No more +imperturbable countenance could be imagined. + +"Six twenty-six!" he said gently. + +"Take the ole house an' be derned to you!" cried Big Medicine, looking +furiously at his antagonist. "Take the blamed ole shacke-merack an' all +the cussed blue-birds an' peer-weers to boot, for all I keer!" + +Everybody laughed, and the auctioneer continued: + +"Agoing for six twenty-six! Who says seven hundred? Bid up lively! +Agoing once, agoing twice--once, twice, three-e-e-e-e times! Sold to +Abner Golding for six hundred and twenty-six dollars, and as cheap as +dirt itself!" + +"Hooray for the man who hed the most money!" shouted the tallow-faced +boy. + +The sale was at an end. The auctioneer came down from his box and wiped +his face with a red handkerchief. The crowd, as if blown apart by a puff +of wind, scattered this way and that, drifting into small, grotesque +groups to converse together on whatever topic might happen to suggest +itself. Big Medicine seemed inclined to be alone, but the irrepressible +youth of the saffron skin ambled up to him and said, in a tone intended +for comic: + +"Golly, doctor, but didn't that 'ere gal projuce a orful demand for the +ole house! Didn't she set the ole trap off when she peeked out'n the +winder!" + +Big Medicine looked down at the strapping boy, much as a lion might look +at a field rat or a weasel, then he doubled his hand into an enormous +fist and held it under the youth's nose, saying in a sort of growl as he +did so: + +"You see this 'ere bundle o' bones, don't ye?" + +"Guess so," replied the youth. + +"Well, would you like a small mess of it?" + +"Not as anybody knows of." + +"Well, then, keep yer derned mouth shet!" + +Which, accordingly, the boy proceeded to do, ambling off as quickly as +possible. + +About this time, the stranger, having put the green spectacles back upon +his nose, walked in the direction of 'Squire Tadmore's office, +accompanied by the young woman who had looked from the window. When Big +Medicine saw them he picked up a stick and began furiously to whittle it +with his jack-knife. His face wore a comically mingled look of chagrin, +wonder, and something like a new and thrilling delight. He puffed out +great volumes of smoke, making his pipe wheeze audibly under the vigor +of his draughts. He was certainly excited. + +"Orful joke the boys 'll have on me arter this," he muttered to himself. +"Wonder if the 'oman's the feller's wife? Monstrous poorty, shore's yer +born!" + +He soon whittled up one stick. He immediately dived for another, this +time getting hold of a walnut knot. A tough thing to whittle, but he +attacked it as if it had been a bit of white pine. Soon after this +'Squire Tadmore's little boy came running down from his father's office +to where Big Medicine stood. + +"Mr. Big Medicine," cried he, all out of breath, "that 'ere man what +bought the ole house wants to see you partic'ler!" + +"Mischief he does! Tell 'im to go to----; no, wait a bit. Guess I'll go +tell 'im myself." + +And, so saying, he moved at a slashing pace down to the door of the +'Squire's office. He thrust his great hirsute head inside the room, and +glaring at the mild mannered stranger, said: + +"D'ye want to see me?" + +Mr. Golding got up from his seat and coming out took Big Medicine +familiarly by the arm, meanwhile smiling in the most friendly way. + +"Come one side a little, I wish to speak with you privately, +confidentially." + +Big Medicine went rather sulkily along. When they had gone some distance +from the house Mr. Golding lifted his spectacles from his nose, and +turning his calm, smiling eyes full upon those of Big Medicine, said, +with a shrug of his finely cut shoulders: + +"I outbid you a little, my friend, but I'm blessed if I haven't got +myself into a ridiculous scrape on account of it." + +"How so?" growled Big Medicine. + +"Why, when I come to count my funds I'm short a half dollar." + +"You're what?" + +"I lack just a half dollar of having enough money to pay for the house, +and I thought I'd rather ask you to loan me the money than anybody else +here." + +Big Medicine stood for a time in silence, whittling away, as if for dear +life, on the curly knot. Dreamy gusts of perfumed heat swept by from +adjacent clover and wheat fields, where the blooms hung thick; little +whirlwinds played in the dust at their feet as little whirlwinds always +do in summer; and far away, faint, and made tenderly musical by +distance, were heard the notes of a country dinner-horn. Big Medicine's +ample chest swelled, and swelled, and then he burst at the mouth with a +mighty bass laugh, that went battling and echoing round the place. Mr. +Golding laughed too, in his own quiet, gentlemanly way. They looked at +each other and laughed, then looked off toward the swamps and laughed. +Big Medicine put his hands in his pockets almost up to the elbows, and +leaned back and laughed out of one corner of his mouth while holding his +pipe in the other. + +"I say, mister," said he at length, "a'n't you railly got but six +hundred and twenty-five an' a half?" + +"Just that much to a cent, and no more," replied Mr. Golding, with a +comical smile and bow. + +Big Medicine took his pipe from his mouth, gave the walnut knot he had +dropped a little kick and guffawed louder and longer than before. To +have been off at a little distance watching them would have convinced +any one that Mr. Golding was telling some rare anecdote, and that Big +Medicine was convulsed with mirth, listening. + +"Well I'm derned if 'taint quare," cried the latter, wringing himself +into all sorts of grotesque attitudes in the ecstasy of his amusement. +"You outbid me half a dollar and then didn't have the half a dollar +neither! Wha, wha, wha-ee!" and his cachinnations sounded like rolling +of moderate thunder. + +At the end of this he took out a greasy wallet and paid Mr. Golding the +required amount in silver coin. His chagrin had vanished before the +stranger's quiet way of making friends. + +A week passed over Jimtown. A week of as rare June weather as ever +lingered about the cool places of the woods, or glimmered over the sweet +clover fields all red with a blush of bloom, where the field larks +twittered and the buntings chirped, and where the laden bees rose +heavily to seek their wild homes in the hollows of the forests. By this +time it was generally known in Jimtown that Mr. Golding would soon +receive a stock of goods with which to open a "store" in the old corner +brick; but Big Medicine knew more than any of his neighbors, for he and +Golding had formed a partnership to do business under the "name and +style" of Cook & Golding. + +This Abner Golding had lately been a wealthy retail man in Cincinnati, +and had lost everything by the sudden suspension of a bank wherein the +bulk of his fortune was on deposit. His creditors had made a run on him +and he had been able to save just the merest remnant of his goods, and a +few hundred dollars in money. Thus he came to Jimtown to begin life and +business anew. + +To Big Medicine the week had been a long one; why, it would not be easy +to tell. No doubt there had come a turning point in his life. In those +days, and in that particular region, to be a 'store keeper' was no small +honor. But Big Medicine acted strangely. He wandered about, with his +hands in his pockets, whistling plaintive tunes, and often he was seen +standing out before the old corner brick, gazing up at one of the vacant +windows where pieces of broken lattice were swaying in the wind. At such +times he muttered softly to himself: + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal." + +Four big road wagons (loaded with boxes), three of them containing the +merchandise and one the scanty household furniture of Mr. Golding and +his daughter Carrie, came rumbling into Jimtown. Big Medicine was on +hand, a perfect Hercules at unloading and unpacking. Mr. Golding was +sadly pleasant; Carrie was roguishly observant, but womanly and quiet. + +The tallow-faced youth and two or three others stood by watching the +proceedings. The former occasionally made a remark at which the others +never failed to laugh. + +"Ef ye'll notice, now," said he, "it's a fac 'at whenever Big Medicine +goes to make a big surge to lift a box, he fust takes a peep at the gal, +an' that 'ere seems to kinder make 'im 'wax strong an' multiply,' as the +preacher says, an' then over goes the box!" + +"Has a awful effect on his narves," some one replied. + +"I'm a thinkin'," added tallow-face, "'at ef Big Medicine happens to +look at the gal about the time he goes to make a trade, it'll have sich +a power on 'im 'at he'll sell a yard o' caliker for nigh onto forty +dollars!" + +"Er a blanket overcoat for 'bout twelve an' a half cents!" put in +another. + +"I'm kinder weakly," resumed tallow-face with a comical leer at Big +Medicine; "wonder if 't wouldn't be kinder strengthnin' on me ef I'd +kinder sidle up towards the gal myself?" + +"I'll sidle up to you!" growled Big Medicine; and making two strides of +near ten feet each, he took the youth by his faded flaxen hair, and +holding him clear of the ground, administered a half dozen or so of +resounding kicks, then tossed him to one side, where he fell in a heap +on the ground. When he got on his feet again he began to bristle up and +show fight, but when Big Medicine reached for him he ambled off. + +In due time the goods were all placed on the shelves and Mr. Golding's +household furniture arranged in the upper rooms where he purposed +living, Carrie acting as housekeeper. + +On the first evening after all things had been put to rights, Mr. +Golding said to Big Medicine: + +"I suppose we ought to advertise." + +"Do how?" + +"Advertise." + +"Sartinly," said Big Medicine, having not the faintest idea of what his +partner meant. + +"Who can we get to paint our fence advertisements?" + +A gleam of intelligence shot from Big Medicine's eyes. He knew now what +was wanted. He remembered once, on a visit to Crawfordsville, seeing +these fence advertisements. He comprehended in a moment. + +"O, I know what ye mean, now," he said, with a grin, as if communing +with himself on some novel suggestion. "I guess I kin 'tend to that my +own self. The moon shines to-night, don't it?" + +"Yes; why?" + +"I'll do the paintin' to-night. A good ijee has jist struck me. You jist +leave it all to me." + +So the thing was settled, and Big Medicine was gone all night. + +The next day was a sluice of rain. It poured incessantly from daylight +till dark. Big Medicine sat on the counter in the corner brick and +chuckled. His thoughts were evidently very pleasant ones. Mr. Golding +was busy marking goods and Carrie was helping him. The great grey eyes +of Big Medicine followed the winsome girl all the time. When night came, +and she went up stairs, he said to Golding: + +"That gal o' your'n is a mighty smart little 'oman." + +"Yes, and she's all I have left," replied Mr. Golding in a sad tone. + +Big Medicine stroked his brown beard, whistled a few turns of a jig +tune, and, jumping down from the counter, went out into the drizzly +night. A few rods from the house he turned and looked up at the window. +A little form was just vanishing from it. + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," he murmured, then turned and went his +way, occupied with strange, sweet imaginings. As a matter of the merest +conjecture, it is interesting to dwell upon the probable turn taken by +his thoughts as he slowly stalked through the darkness and rain that +night; but I shall not trench on what, knowing all that I do, seems +sanctified and hallowed. It would be breaking a sacred confidence. Who +has stood and watched for a form at a window? Who has expressed, in +language more refined, to the inner fountain of human sympathy, the idea +conveyed in the rough fellow's remark? Who that has, let him recall the +time and the place holy in his memory. + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," said the man, and went away to his +lonely bed to dream the old new dream. All night the rain fell, making +rich music on the roof and pouring through his healthy slumber a sound +like the flowing of strange rivers in a land of new delights--a land +into which he had strayed hand in hand with some one, the merest touch +of whose hand was rapture, the simplest utterance of whose voice was +charming beyond expression. The old new dream. The dream of flesh that +is divine--the vision of blood that is love's wine--the apocalypse that +bewildered the eyes of the old singer when from a flower of foam in the +sweet green sea rose the Cytherean Venus. We have all dreamed the dream +and found it sweet. + +It is quite probable that no fence advertisements ever paid as well, or +stirred up as big a "muss" as those painted by Big Medicine on the night +mentioned heretofore. As an artist our Hoosier was not a genius, but he +certainly understood how to manufacture a notoriety. If space permitted +I would copy all those rude notices for your inspection; but I must be +content with a few random specimens taken from memory, with an eye to +brevity. They are characteristic of the man and in somewhat an index of +the then state of society in and around Jimtown. On Deacon Jones's fence +was scrawled the following: "Dern yer ole sole, ef yer want good Koffy +go to Cook & Golding's nu stoar." + +John Butler, a nice old quaker, had the following daubed on his gate: +"Yu thievin' duk-legged ya and na ole cuss, ef the sperit muves ye, go +git a broad-brimmed straw hat at Cook & Golding's great stand at +Jimtown." The side of William Smith's pig pen bore this: "Bill, ye +ornery sucker, come traid with Cook & Golding at the ole corner brick in +Jimtown." Old Peter Gurley found writing to the following effect on his +new wagon bed: "Ef yoor dri or anything, you'll find a virtoous Kag of +ri licker at Cook & Golding's." On a large plank nailed to a tree at +Canaan's Cross Roads all passers by saw the following: "Git up an +brindle! Here's yer ole and faithful mewl! Come in gals and git yer +dofunny tricks and fixens, hats, caps, bonnets, parrysols, silk +petty-coat-sleeves and other injucements too noomerous too menshen! Rip +in--we're on it! Call at Cook & Golding's great corner brick!" + +These are fair specimens of what appeared everywhere. How one man could +have done so much in one night remains a mystery. Some people swore, +some threatened to prosecute, but finally everybody went to the corner +brick to trade. Jimtown became famous on account of Big Medicine and the +corner brick store. + +The sun rose through the morning gate beyond the quagmires east of +Jimtown and set through the evening gate past the ponds and maple swamps +to the west. The winds blew and there were days of calm. The weather ran +through its mutations of heat and cold. The herons flew over, the blue +birds twittered and went away and came again, and the peewees +disappeared and returned. A whole year had rolled round and it was June +again, with the air full of rumors about the building of a railroad +through Jimtown. + +During this flow of time Big Medicine had feasted his eyes on the bright +curls and brighter eyes of Carrie Golding, till his heart had become +tender and happy as a child's. They rarely conversed more than for him +to say, "Miss Carrie, look there," or for her to call out, "Please, Mr. +Cook, hand me down this bolt of muslin." But Big Medicine was content. + +It was June the 8th, about ten o'clock in the morning, and Big Medicine +was slowly making his way from his comfortable bachelor's cabin to the +corner brick. A peculiar smile was on his face, his heart was fluttering +strangely, and all on account of a little circumstance of the preceding +day, now fresh in his memory. Great boy that he was, he was poring ever +a single sweet smile Carrie Golding had given him! + +The mail hack stood at the post-office door, whence Mr. Golding was +coming with a letter in his hand. Big Medicine stopped and looked up at +the window. There stood Carrie. She was looking hopefully toward her +father. Big Medicine smiled and murmured: + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal--bless her sweet soul!" There was a +whole world of sincere happiness in the tones of his voice. + +Mr. Golding passed him hastily, his green spectacles on his nose, and a +great excitement flashing from his face. Big Medicine gazed wonderingly +after his partner till he saw him run up stairs to Carrie's room. Then +he thought he heard Carrie cry out joyfully, but it may have been the +wind. + +When an hour had passed Mr. Golding and Carrie came down dressed for +travelling. How strangely, wondrously beautiful the girl now looked! Mr. +Golding was as nervous as an old woman. He rubbed his thin white hands +together rapidly and said: + +"Mr. Cook, I have glorious news this morning!" + +"And what mought it be?" asked Big Medicine, as a damp chilliness crept +over him, and his face grew pinched and almost as white as his shirt +bosom. + +"Krofton & Kelly, the bankers, have resumed payment, and I'll get all my +money! It _is_ glorious news, is it not, my friend?" + +Big Medicine was silent. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and +powerless. A mist drifted across his eyes. He hardly realized where he +was or what was said, but he knew all. + +"I have concluded to give you this house and all my interest in this +store. You must not refuse. I haven't time to make the transfer now, but +I'll not neglect it. Carrie and I must hasten at once to Cincinnati. The +hack is waiting; so good bye, my dear friend, God bless you!" Mr. +Golding wrung his partner's cold, limp hand, without noticing how +fearfully haggard that Roman face had suddenly grown. + +"Good bye, Mr. Cook," said Carrie in her sweet, sincere way. "I'm real +sorry to leave you and the dear old house--but--but--good bye, Mr. Cook. +Come to see us in Cincinnati. Good bye." She gave him her hand also. + +He smiled a wan, flickering smile, like the last flare of a fire whose +fuel is exhausted. Carrie's woman's heart sank under that look, though +she knew not wherefore. + +The hack passed round the curve of the road. + +They were gone! + +Big Medicine stood alone in the door of the corner brick. He looked back +over his shoulders at the well filled shelves and muttered: + +"She ain't here, and what do I want of the derned old store?" + +The wind rustled the elm leaves and tossed the brown locks of the man +over his great forehead; the blue birds sang on the roof; the dust rose +in little columns along the street; and, high over head, in the yellow +mist of the fine June weather, sailed a great blue heron, going to the +lakes. Big Medicine felt like one deserted in the wilderness. He stood +there a while, then closed and locked the door and went into the woods. +A month passed before he returned. Jimtown wondered and wondered. But +when he did return his neighbors could not get a word out of him. He was +silent, moody, listless. Where had he been? Only hunting for Mr. Golding +and Carrie. He found them, after a long search, in a splendid residence +on the heights just out of Cincinnati. Mr. Golding greeted him +cordially, but somehow Big Medicine felt as though he were shaking hands +with some one over an insurmountable barrier. That was not the Mr. +Golding he had known. + +"Carrie is out in the garden. She will be glad to see you. Go along the +hall there. You will see the gate." + +Mr. Golding waved his hand after the manner of a very rich man, and a +patronizing tone would creep into his voice. Somehow Big Medicine looked +terribly uncouth. + +With a hesitating step and a heart full of unreal sensations, Big +Medicine opened the little gate and strode into the flower garden. +Suddenly a vision, such as his fancy had never pictured, burst on his +dazzled eyes. Flowers and vines and statues and fountains; on every hand +rich colors; perfumes so mixed and intensified that his senses almost +gave way; long winding walks; fairy-like bowers and music. He paused and +listened. A heavy voice, rich and manly, singing a ballad--some popular +love song--to the sweet accompaniment of a violin, and blended through +it all, like a silvery thread, the low sweet voice of Carrie Golding. +The poor fellow held his breath till the song was done. + +Two steps forward and Big Medicine towered above the lovers. + +Carrie sprang to her feet with a startled cry; then, recognizing the +intruder, she held out her little hand and welcomed him. Turning to her +lover she said: + +"Henry, this is Mr. Cook, lately papa's partner in Indiana." + +The lover was a true gentleman, so he took the big hard hand of the +visitor and said he was glad to see him. + +Big Medicine stood for a few moments holding a hand of each of the +lovers. Presently a tremor took possession of his burly frame. He did +not speak a word. His breast swelled and his face grew awfully white. +He put Carrie's hand in that of her lover and turned away. As he did so +a tear, a great bitter drop, rolled down his haggard cheek. A few long +strides and Big Medicine was gone. + +Shrilly piped the blue birds, plaintively sang the peewees, sweetly +through the elms and burr oaks by the corner brick blew the fresh summer +wind, as, just at sunset, Big Medicine once more stood in front of the +old building with his eyes fixed on the vacant, staring window. + +It was scarcely a minute that he stood there, but long enough for a +tender outline of the circumstances of the past year to rise in his +memory. + +A rustling at the broken lattice, a sudden thrill through the iron frame +of the watching man, a glimpse of a sweet face--no, it was only a fancy. +The house was still, and old and desolate. It stared at him like a +death's head. + +Big Medicine raised his eyes toward heaven, which was now golden and +flashing resplendently with sunset glories. High up, as if almost +touching the calm sky, a great blue heron was toiling heavily westward. +Taking the course chosen by the lone bird, Big Medicine went away, and +the places that knew him once know him no more forever. + + + + +THE VENUS OF BALHINCH. + + +When I returned from Europe with a finished education, I found that my +fortune also was finished in the most approved modern style, so I left +New York and drifted westward in search of employment. At length I came +to Indiana, and, having not even a cent left, and mustering but one +presentable suit of clothes, I looked about me in a hungry, half +desperate sort of way, till I pounced upon the school in Balhinch. Now +Balhinch is not a town, nor a cross-road place, nor a post-office--it is +simply a neighborhood in the southwestern corner of Union Township, +Montgomery County--a neighborhood _sui generis_, stowed away in the +breaks of Sugar Creek, containing as good, quiet, law-abiding folk as +can be found anywhere outside of Switzerland. My school was a small one +in numbers, but the pupils ranged from four to six feet three in +altitude, and well proportioned. The most advanced class had thumbed +along pretty well through the spelling book. I need not take up your +time with the school, however, for it has nothing at all to do with my +story, excepting merely to explain how I came to be in Balhinch, in the +State of Indiana. + +My first sight of Susie Adair was on Sunday at the Methodist prayer +meeting. I was sitting with my back to a window and facing the door of +the log meeting house when she entered. It was July--a hot glary day, +but a steady wind blew cool and sweet from the southwest, bringing in +all sorts of woodland odors. The grasshoppers were chirruping in the +little timothy field hard by, and over in a bit of woodland pasture a +swarm of blue jays were worrying a crow, keeping up an incessant +squeaking and chattering. The dumpy little class leader--the only little +man in Balhinch--had just begun to give out the hymn + + "Love is the sweetest bud that blows, + Its beauties never die, + On earth among the saints it grows + And ripens in the sky," &c., + +when Susie came in. Ben Crane was sitting by me. He nudged me with his +elbow and whispered: + +"How's that 'ere for poorty?" + +I made him no answer, but remained staring at the girl till long after +she had taken her seat. Nature plays strange tricks. Susie, the daughter +of farmer Adair, was as beautiful in the face as any angel could be, and +her form was as perfect as that of the Cnidian Venus. Her motion when +she walked was music, and as she sat in statuesque repose, the +undulations of her queenly form were those of perfect ease, grace and +strength. Her hands were small and taper, a little browned from +exposure, as was also her face. Her hair was the real classic gold, and +her grey eyes were riant with health and content. When her red lips +parted to sing, they discovered small even teeth, as white as ivory. I +can give you no idea of her. Physically she was perfection's self in the +mould of a Venus of the grandest type. Her head, too, was an +intellectual one (though feminine), in the best sense of the word. The +first thought that flashed across my mind was embodied in the words--_A +Venus_--and I still think of her as the best model I ever saw. + +"How's that for poorty?" repeated Crane. + +"Who is she!" I replied interrogatively. + +"She's my jewlarker," said he. + +"Your what?" + +"My sweetheart." + +"What is her name?" + +"Susie Adair." + +So I came to know her and admire her, and even before that little prayer +meeting was over I loved her. Introductions were an unknown institution +in Balhinch, but I was not long in finding a way to the personal +acquaintance of Susie. I found her remarkably intelligent for one of her +limited opportunities, very fond of reading, sprightly in conversation, +womanly, modest, sweet tempered, and, indeed, altogether charming as +well as superbly beautiful. + +As for me, I am an insignificant looking man, and then I was even more +so than now. My hair is terribly stiff and red, you know, and my eyes +are very pale blue, nearly white. My neck is very long and has a large +Adam's apple. I am small and narrow chested, and have slender bow legs. +My teeth are uneven and my nose is pug. I have a very fine thin voice, +decidedly nasal, as you perceive. One thing, however, I am well +educated, polite, and not a bad conversationalist. + +Susie was a most entertaining and perplexing study for me from the +start. She treated me with decided consideration and kindness, seemed +deeply interested in my accounts of my travels, asked me many questions +about the old world and good society, sat for hours at a time listening +to me as I read aloud. In fact I felt that I was impressing her deeply, +but she would go with Ben Crane, that long, awkward, ignorant gawk. How +could a young woman of such fine magnetic presence, and endowed with +such genuine, instinctive purity of taste in everything else, bear the +presence of a rough greenhorn like that? Finally I said to myself: she +is kind and good; she cannot bear to slight Ben, though she cares +nothing for him. + +What a strange state being in love is! It is like dreaming in the grass. +One hears the flow of the wind--it is the breath of love--one smells the +flowers, and it is the perfume of a young cheek, the sharp fragrance of +blonde curls. What dreams I had in those days! I could scarcely endure +my school to the end of the first three months. Then I gave it up, and +collecting my wages purchased me some fine clothes--that is, fine for +the time and the place. I recollect that suit now, and wonder how a man +of my taste could have borne to wear it. A black coat, a scarlet vest +and white pants, ending with calf boots and a very tall silk hat! If you +should see me dressed that way now you would laugh till your ribs would +hurt. I do not know how true it is, but, from a pretty good source, I +heard that Ben Crane said I looked like a red-headed woodpecker. One +thing I do know, I never saw a woodpecker with a freckled face. I have a +freckled face. + +Ben soon recognized me as his rival and treated me with supreme +impertinence, even going so far as to rub his fist under my nose and +swear at me--a thing at which I felt profoundly indignant, and +considering which I was surely justified in sticking a lucifer match +into Ben's six valuable hay stacks one night thereafter. It was a great +fire, and two hundred dollars loss to Ben. Let him keep his fist out +from under my nose. + +But I must come to my story, cutting short these preliminaries. It is a +story I never tire of telling, and a story which has elicited +ejaculations from many. + +It was a ripe sweet day in the latter part of September--clear, but hazy +and dreamful--a prelude to the Indian summer. I stood before the glass +in my room at 'Squire Jones's, where I boarded, and very carefully +arranged my bright blue neck-tie. Then I combed my hair. I never have +got thoroughly familiar with my hair. I cannot, even now, comb it, while +looking in a glass, without cringing for fear of burning my fingers. The +long, wavy red locks flow through the comb like flames, and underneath +is a gleam of live coals and red hot ashes. Ben Crane said he believed +my head had set his hay stacks a-fire. Maybe it did. I wished that a +stray flash from the same source would kindle the heart of Susie Adair +and heat it until it lay under her Cytherean breasts a puddle of molten +love. I put my silk hat carefully upon my head and wriggled my hands +into a pair of kid gloves; then, walking-stick in hand, I set out to +know my fate at the hands of Susie. My way was across a stubble field in +which the young clover, sown in the spring, displayed itself in a +variety of fantastic modes. Have you ever noticed how much grass is like +water? Some one, Hawthorne, perhaps, has spoken of "a gush of violets," +and Swinburne, going into one of his musical frenzies, cries: + + "Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers." + +I have seen pools of clover and streams of timothy; I have stood ankle +deep in shoal blue grass and have watched for hours the liquid ripples +of the red top. I have seen the field sparrows dive into the green waves +of young wheat, and the black starlings wade about in the sink-foil of +southern countries. Grass is a liquid that washes earth's face till it +shines like that of a clean, healthy child. But clover prefers to stand +in pools and eddies, in which oft and oft I have seen the breasts of +meadow larks shine like gold, the while a few sweet notes, like rung +silver, rose and trembled above the trefoil, all woven, in and out, +through the swash of the wind's palpitant currents--a music of +unspeakable influence. Swallows skim the surface of grass just as they +do that of water. When the summer air agitates the smooth bosom of a +broad green meadow field, you will see these little random arrows +glancing along the emerald surface, cutting with barbed wings through +the tossing, bloom-capped waves, thence ricochetting high into the +bright air to whirl and fall again as swiftly as before. Many a time I +have traced streams of grass to their fresh fountains, where jets of +tender foliage and bubbles of tinted flowers welled up from dark, rich +earth, and flowed away, with a velvet rustle and a ripple like blown +floss, to break and recoil and eddy against the dark shadows of a +distant grove. Such a fountain is a place of fragrance and joy. The bees +go thither to get the sweetest honey, and find it a very Hybla. The +butterflies float about it in a dreamful trance, while in the cool, +damp shade of a dock leaf squats a great toad, like a slimy dragon +guarding the gate of a paradise. + +As I slowly walked across that stubble field, now and then stepping into +a tuft of clover, out from which a quail would start, whirling away in a +convulsion of flight, I allowed dreams of bliss to steal rosily across +my brain. I scarcely saw the great gold-sharded beetles that hummed and +glanced in the mellow sun-light. I heard like one half asleep, as if far +away, the sharp twitter of the blue bird and the tender piping of the +meadow lark. Susie Adair was all my thought. I recollect that, just as I +climbed the fence at the farther side of the clover field, I saw a white +winged, red headed woodpecker pounce upon and carry off a starry +opal-tinted butterfly, and I thought how sweet it would be if I could +thus steal away into the free regions of space the object of my gentler +passion. But then what wonderful big wings I should have needed, for my +Venus of the hollow of the hill of Balhinch was no airy thing. Her tall, +strong body and magnificent limbs equalled one hundred and forty pounds +avoirdupois! My own weight was about one hundred and twenty. + +As I neared Susie's home I began, for the first time in my life, to +suffer from palpitation. The shadow of a doubt floated in the autumn +sun-light. I set my teeth together and resolved not to be faint hearted. +I must go in boldly and plead my cause and win. + +When I reached the gate of the Adair farmhouse I had to look straight +over the head of a very large, sanctimonious-faced bull-dog to get a +view of the vine covered porch. This dog looked up at me and smiled +ineffably; then he came to the gate and stood over against me, peeping +between the slats. I hesitated. About this time Ben Crane came out of +the house with a banjo in his hand. He had been playing for Susie. He +was a natural musician. + +"'Feared o' the dog, Mr. Woodpecker?" said he. "Begone, Bull!" and he +kicked the big-headed canine aside so that I could go in. + +I heard him thrumming on his banjo far down the road as Susie met me at +the door. How wondrously beautiful she was! + +"Sit down Mr. ----, and, if you do not care, I'll bring the churn in and +finish getting the butter while we talk." + +I was delighted--I was charmed--fascinated. Susie's father had gone to a +distant village, and her mother, a gentle work-worn matron, was in the +other room spinning flax, humming, meantime, snatches of camp meeting +hymns. The sound of that spinning-wheel seemed to me strangely mournful +and sad, but Susie's deep, clear gray eyes and cheerful voice were the +very soul of joyousness, health and youth. She brought in a great +fragrant cedar churn, made to hold six or eight gallons of cream, and +forthwith began her labor. She stood as she worked, and the exercise +throwing her entire body into gentle but well-defined motion, displayed +all the riches of her contour. The sleeves of her calico gown were +rolled up above the elbows, leaving her plump, muscular arms bare, and +her skirt was pinned away from her really small feet and shapely ankles +in such a way as to give one an idea, a suggestion, of supreme innocence +and grace. Her long, crinkled gold hair was unbound, hanging far below +her waist, and shining like silk. Her lips, carmine red, seemed to +overflow with tender utterances. + +Ever since that day I have thought churning a kind of sacred, charmingly +blessed work, which ought to be, if really it is not, the pastime of +those delightful beings the ancients called deities. Cream is more +fragrant, more delicious, more potent than nectar or ambrosia. A cedar +churn is more delicately perfumed than any patera of the gods. And, I +say it with reverence, I have seen, swaying lily-like above the churn, a +beauty more perfect than that which bloomed full grown from the bright +focus of the sea's ecstatic travail. + +What a talk Susie and I had that day! Slowly, stealthily I crept nearer +and nearer to the subject burning in my heart. I watched Susie closely, +for her face was an enigma to me. I never think of her and of that day +without recalling Baudelaire's dream of a giantess. More happy than the +poet, I really saw my colossal beauty stand full grown before me, but, +like him, I wondered-- + + * * * "Si son coeur couve une sombre flamme + Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux." + +I could not tell, from any outward sign, what was going on in her heart. +No sphinx could have been more utterly calm and mysterious. She had a +most baffling way about her, too. When at last I had reached the point +of a confession of my maddening love, she broke into one of my +charmingest sentences to say-- + +"Mr. ----, you'd better move farther away from the churn or I might +spatter your clothes." + +This, somehow, disconcerted and bothered me. But Susie was so calm and +sweet about it, her gray eyes beamed so mysteriously innocent of any +impropriety, that I soon regained my lost eloquence. + +How sharply and indelibly cut in my memory, like intaglios in ivory, the +surroundings of that scene, even to the minutest detail! For instance, I +can see as plainly as then my new silk hat on the floor between my +knees, containing a red handkerchief and a paper of chewing tobacco. I +recall, also, that a slip-trod shoe lay careened to one side near the +centre of the room. The bull-dog came to the door and peeped solemnly in +a time or two. A string of dried pumpkin cuts hung by the fireplace, and +under a small wooden table in one corner were piled a few balls of +"carpet rags." I sat in a very low chair. A picture of George Washington +hung above a small square window. The floor was ash boards uncarpeted. I +heard some chickens clucking and cackling under the house. + +Finally, I recollect it as if it were but yesterday, I said: + +"I love you, Susie--I love you, and I have loved you ever since I first +saw you!" + +How tame the words sound now! but then they came forth in a tremulous +murmur that gave them character and power. Susie looked straight at me +a moment, and I thought I saw a softer light gather in her eyes. Then +she took away the churn dasher and lid and fetched a large bowl from a +cupboard. What a fine golden pile of butter she fished up into the bowl! + +I drew my chair somewhat nearer, and watched her pat and roll and +squeeze the plastic mass with the cherry ladle. A little gray kitten +came and rubbed and purred round her. Again the bull-dog peeped in. A +breeze gathered some force and began to ripple pleasantly through the +room. Far away in the fields I heard the quails whistling to each other. +An old cow strolled up the lane by the house and round the corner of the +orchard, plaintively tinkling her bell. Steadily hummed Mrs. Adair's +spinning wheel. I slipped my hat and my chair a little closer to Susie, +and by a mighty effort directed my burning words straight to the point. +I cannot repeat all I said. I would not if I could. Such things are +sacred. + +"Susie, I love you, madly, blindly, dearly, truly! O, Susie! will you +love me--will you be my wife?" + +Again she turned on me that strange, sweet, half smiling look. Her lips +quivered. The flush on her cheeks almost died out. + +"Answer me, Susie, and say you will make me happy." + +She walked to the cupboard, put away the bowl of butter and the ladle, +then came back and stood by the churn and me. How indescribably charming +she looked! She smiled strangely and made a motion with her round strong +arms. I answered the movement. I spread wide my arms and half rose to +clasp her to my bosom. A whole life was centred in the emotion of that +moment. Susie's arms missed me and lifted the churn. I sank back into my +chair. How gracefully Susie swayed herself to her immense height, toying +with the ponderous churn held far above her head. I saw a kitten fairly +fly out of the room, its tail as level as a gun barrel; I saw the +bull-dog's face hastily withdraw from the door; I saw the carpet balls, +the pumpkin cuts and the print of Washington all through a perpendicular +cataract of deliciously fragrant buttermilk! I saw my hat fill up to the +brim, with my handkerchief afloat. I heaved an awful sigh and leaped to +my feet. I saw old Mrs. Adair standing in the partition door, with her +arms akimbo, and heard her say-- + +"W'y, Susan Jane Samantha Ann! What 'pon airth hev ye done?" + +And the Venus replied: + +"I've been givin' this 'ere little woodpecker a good dose of +buttermilk!" + +I seized my hat and shuffled out of the door, feeling the milk gush from +the tops of my boots at each hasty step I made. I ran to the gate, went +through and slammed it after me. As I did so I heard a report like the +closing of a strong steel trap. It was the bull-dog's teeth shutting on +a slat of the gate as he made a dive at me from behind. I smiled grimly, +thinking how I'd taste served in buttermilk. + +On my way home I passed Ben Crane's house. He was sitting at a window +playing his banjo, and singing in a stentorian voice: + + "O! Woodpecker Jim, + Yer chance is mighty slim! + Jest draw yer red head into yer hole + And there die easy, dern your soul, + O! slim Woodpecker Jim!" + +I was so mad that I sweat great drops of pure buttermilk, but over in +the fields the quails whistled just as clear and sweet as ever, and I +heard the wind pouring through the stubble as it always does in autumn! + + + + +THE LEGEND OF POTATO CREEK. + + +Big yellow butterflies were wheeling about in the drowsy summer air, and +hovering above the moist little sand bars of Potato Creek. A shady dell, +wrapped in the hot lull of August, sent up the spires and domes of its +walnut and poplar trees, clearly defined, and sheeny, while underneath +the forest roof the hazel and wild rose bushes had wrung themselves into +dusky mats. The late violets bloomed here and there, side by side with +those waxlike yellow blossoms, called by the country folk "butter and +eggs." Through this dell Potato Creek meandered fantastically, washing +bare the roots of a few gnarled sycamores, and murmuring among the small +bowlders that almost covered its bed. It was not a strikingly romantic +or picturesque place--rather the contrary--much after the usual type of +ragged little dells. "A scrubby little holler" the neighborhood folk +called it. + +Perched on the topmost tangle of the dry, tough roots of an old upturned +tree, sat little Rose Turpin, sixteen that very August day; pretty, nay +beautiful, her school life just ended, her womanhood just beginning to +clothe her face and form in that mysterious mantle of tenderness--the +blossom, the flower that brings the rich sweet fruit of love. From her +high perch she leaned over and gazed down into the clear water of the +creek and smiled at the gambols of the minnows that glanced here and +there, now in shadowy swarms and anon glancing singly, like sparks of +dull fire, in the limpid current. Some small cray-fishes, too, delighted +her with their retrograde and side-wise movements among the variegated +pebbles at the bottom of the water. A small sketch book and a case of +pencils lay beside her. So busy was she with her observations, that a +fretful, peevish, but decidedly masculine voice near by startled her as +if from a doze. She had imagined herself so utterly alone. + +"Wo-erp 'ere, now can't ye! Wo, I say! Turn yer ole head roun' this way +now, blast yer ole picter! No foolin', now; wo-erp, I tell ye!" + +Rose was so frightened at first that she seemed about to rise in the air +and fly away; but her quick glance in the direction of the sound +discovered the speaker, who, a few rods further down the creek, stood +holding the halter rein of a forlorn looking horse in one hand, and in +the other a heavy woodman's axe. + +"Wo-erp, now! I hate like the nation to slatherate ye; but I said I'd do +it if ye didn't get well by this August the fifteenth; an' shore 'nuff, +here ye are with the fistleo gittin' wus and wus every day o' yer life. +So now ye may expect ter git what I tole ye! Stan' still now, will ye, +till I knock the life out'n ye!" + +By this time Rose had come to understand the features of the situation. +The horse was sadly diseased with that scourge of the equine race, +scrofulous shoulder or fistula, commonly called, among the country folk, +fistleo, and because the animal could not get well the man was on the +point of killing it by knocking it on the head with the axe. + +Of all dumb things a horse was Rose's favorite. She had always, since +her very babyhood, loved horses. + +"Wo-wo-wo-erp, here! Ha'n't ye got no sense at all? Ding it, how d'ye +'spect me to hit yer blamed ole head when ye keep it a waggin' 'round in +that sort o' style? Wo-erp!" + +The fellow had tied the halter rein around a sapling about two feet from +the ground, and was now preparing to deal the horse a blow with the axe +between its eyes. The animal seemed unaware of any danger, but kept its +head going from side to side, trying to fight certain bothersome +gad-flies. + +"O, sir, stop; don't, don't; please, sir, don't!" cried the girl, her +sweet voice breaking into silvery echo fragments in every nook of the +little hollow. + +The man gazed all around, and, seeing no one, let fall the axe by his +side. The birds, taking advantage of the silence, lifted a twittering +chorus through the dense dark tops of the trees. The slimmest breath of +air languidly caressed the leaves of the rose vines. The bubbling of the +brook seemed to touch a mellower key, and the yellow butterflies settled +all together on a little sand bar, their bright wings shut straight and +sharp above their bodies. The man seemed intently listening. "Tw'an't +mammy's voice, nohow," he muttered; "but I'd like to know who 'twas, +though." + +He stood a moment longer, as if in doubt, then again raising his axe he +continued: + +"Must 'a' been a jay bird squeaked. Wo-erp 'ere now! I'm not goin' to +fool wi' ye all day, so hold yer head still!" + +That was a critical moment for the lean, miserable horse. It lowered its +head and held it quite still. The axe was steadily poised in the air. +The man's face wore a look of determination--grim, stone-like. He was, +perhaps, twenty-five, tall and bony, with a countenance sallow almost to +greenness, sunken pale blue eyes, sun burnt hair, thin flaxy beard, and +irregular, half decayed teeth. Although his body and limbs were shrunken +to the last degree of attenuation, still the big cords of his neck and +wrists stood out taut, suggesting great strength. The blow would be a +terrible one. The horse would die almost without a struggle. + +"O, O, O! Indeed, sir, you must not! Stop that, sir, instantly! You +shall not do it, sir! O, sir!" + +And fluttering down from her perch, Rose flew to the spot where the +tragedy was pending, and cast herself pale and trembling between the +horse and its would-be executioner. + +The axe fell from the man's hands. + +His eyes became exactly circular. + +His under jaw dropped so that his mouth was open to its fullest gaping +capacity. His shoulders fell till their points almost met in front of +his sunken chest. He was a picture of overwhelming surprise. + +"An' what in thunder do you want of him? What good's he goin' to do you? +'Cause, you see, he can't work nor be rid on nor nothin'." + +"O never mind, sir, just please give him to me and I'll take him and +care for him. Poor horsey! Poor horsey! See, he loves me already!" + +The beast had thrust its nose against the maiden's hand. + +"Well, I don't know 'bout this. I'd as soon 'at you have 'im as not if I +hadn't swore to kill 'im, an' I musn't lie to 'im. An' besides, I've had +sich a pesky derned time wi' 'im 'at it looks kinder mean 'at I +shouldn't have the satisfaction of bustin' his head for it. I'm goin' to +knock 'im, an' ye jist mought as well stan' aside!" + +Just then the peculiarities of the man's character were written on his +face. His nose denoted pugnacity, his lips sensuality, but not of a base +sort, his eyes ignorance and rough kindness, his chin firmness, his jaw +tenacity of purpose, and his complexion the ague. He had sworn to kill +the horse, and kill him he would. You could see that in the very +wrinkles of his neck. He evidently felt that it was a duty he owed to +his conscience--a duty made doubly imperative by the horse's refusal to +get well by the exact time prescribed. + +High up on the dead spire of a walnut tree a woodpecker began to beat a +long, rattling tattoo. The horse very lazily and innocently winked his +brown eyes, and putting forth his nose sniffed at the skirt of the +girl's dress. + +"I'm glad--O I'm ever so glad you'll not kill him!" murmured the little +lady when she saw the axe fall to the ground. + +The man stood a long moment, as if petrified or frozen into position, +then somewhat recovering, he re-seized the axe, and flourishing it high +in the air, cried in a voice that, cracked and shrill, rang petulantly +through the woods: + +"I said I'd kill 'im if that garglin' oil didn't cure 'im, 'an I'm +derned ef I don't, too!" + +"O, sir, if you please! The poor horse is not to blame!" exclaimed the +excited girl. + +"'Taint no use o' beggin'; he's no 'count but to jist eat up corn, an' +hay, an' paster an' the likes; and his blasted fistleo gits wus an' wus +all the time. An't I spent more'n he's wo'th a tryin' to cure 'm, an' +don't everybody laugh at me 'cause I've got sich a derned ole slummux of +a hoss? Jist blame my picter if I'll stand it! So now you've hearn me +toot my tin horn, an' ye may as well stan' out'n the way!" + +"But, sir, I'll take him off your hands, may I? Say, sir? O please let +me take him!" + +While he stood with his axe raised, Rose was very diligently and +nervously tugging at the knot that fastened the halter rein to the tree, +and ere he was aware of her intent, she had untied it and was resolutely +leading the poor old animal away. + +The man's eyes got longest the short way as he gazed at the retreating +figure. + +"Well now, that's as cool as a cowcumber and twicet as juicy! Gal, ye'r' +a brick! ye'r' a knot! Ye'r' a born pacer! Take 'im 'long for all I +keer! Take 'im 'long!" + +He put down his axe, placed his hands against his sides and smiled, as +he spoke, a big wrinkling smile that covered the whole of his sallow, +skinny face and ran clear down to the neck band of his homespun shirt. + +"Pluck, no eend to it!" he muttered; "wonder who she is? +Poorty--geeroody!" + +The wild birds sang a triumphant hymn, the breeze freshened till the +whole woods rustled, and louder still rose the bubbling of the stream +among its bowlders. + +"Well, I'll jist be dorged! The poortiest gal in all Injianny! An' she's +tuck my ole hoss whether or no! She's a knot! Sort o' a cool proceedin', +it 'pears to me, but she's orful welcome to the hoss! Howdsomever it's +mighty much of a joke on me, 'r my name's not Zach Jones!" + +He laughed long and loud. The birds laughed, too, and still the wind +freshened. + +The girl and the horse had quickly disappeared behind the hazel and +papaw bushes. Zach Jones was alone with his axe and his reflections. + +"Yender's where she sot--right up yender on that ole clay root. She must +'a' been a fishin', I reckon." + +Another admiring chuckle. + +He went to the spot and clambered up among the roots. There lay Rose's +sketch book and pencil case. He took up the book and curiously turned +the leaves, his eyes running with something like childish delight over +the flowers and bits of landscape. He had never before seen a drawing. + +"Poorty as the gal 'erself, 'most," he said, "an' seein' 'at she's tuck +my ole hoss, I spose I'll have to take these 'ere jimcracks o' her'n. +I'll take 'em 'long anyhow, jist to 'member her by!" + +This argument seemed logical and conclusive, and with a quick glance +over his shoulder he crammed book and pencil case into the capacious +depths of the side pocket of his pants. + +"Now then it's about time for my chill, an' I'd better go home. Hang the +luck; s'pose I'll allus have the ager!" This last sentence was uttered +in a tone of comical half despair, and accompanied by a facial +contortion possible to no one but a person thoroughly saturated with +ague in its chronic form. + +After he left the dell, Zach had a hot walk across a clover field before +he reached the dilapidated log house where he lived with his widowed +mother. In a short time his chill set in, and it was a fearful one. His +teeth chattered and his bony frame rattled like a bundle of dry sticks +in a strong wind. After it had shaken him thus for about an hour, his +brother Sammy, a lad of ten years, came in with a jug of buttermilk +brought from a neighbor's. + +"Mammy, 'ere's yer buttermilk," said he, setting the jug on the floor. +"Shakin' like forty--a'n't ye, Zach? he added, glancing with a sad, +lugubrious smile at his brother; then, changing his tone and also his +countenance, he continued, with a broader grin: "Bet ye a dollar ye +can't guess what I seed over to 'Squire Martin's!" + +"No, nor I don't care a cuss; so put off an' don't come yawpin' round +me!" replied Zach. + +"Yes ye do, too; an' I know ye do, for 'twas yer ole fistleo hoss. That +'ere fine gal 'at stays over there is havin' a man wash 'im an' doctor +'im." Sammy winked and hitched up his pants as he spoke. + +"Do say, Sammy, is that so, now?" cried the widow, holding up her hands. +"How on 'arth come she by the hoss? Zach, I thought you'd killed that +creater'!" + +"Mammy, ef you an' Sammy'll jist let me 'joy this 'ere ager in peace +I'll be orful 'bleeged to ye," said Zach, making his chair creak and +quiver with the ecstasy of his convulsion. + +But Sammy's tongue would go. He thought he had a "good 'un" on Zach, and +nothing short of lightning could have killed him quick enough to prevent +his telling it. + +"The gal says as how Zach gin 'er the ole hoss for to 'member 'im by!" +he blurted out, shying briskly from Zach's foot, which otherwise would +have landed him in the door yard. + +"Lookee here now, Zach, you jist try the likes o' that ag'in an' I'll +give ye sich a broom-stickin' as ye a'n't had lately. Ye mought 'a' +injured the child's insides!" and as she spoke the widow flourished the +broom. + +So Zach dropped his head upon his chest and employed himself exclusively +with his chill. When his mother was not looking at him, however, he +would occasionally slip the sketch book partly out of his pocket and +peep between its leaves. When his fever came on he got "flighty" and +horrified the widow with talk about an angel on a clay root and a sweet +little "hoss thief" from whom he had stolen the "picters!" + +I cannot exactly say how Zach got to going over to 'Squire Martin's so +often after this. But his first visit was a compulsory one. His mother +happening to discover his possession of the sketch book and pencil case, +made him return them with his own hand to Rose. He at once became deeply +interested in the progress of his former patient's convalescence; for, +strange to say, the poor horse began almost immediately to get well, and +in two months was sound, glossy and fat. Nor was he an ill-looking +animal. On the contrary, when Rose sat on his back and stroked his mane, +he arched his neck and pawed the ground like a thoroughbred. + +'Squire Martin was a good man, and seeing how Zach seemed to enjoy +Rose's company, he one day took the girl aside and said to her: + +"You must be somewhat of a doctor, my dear, seeing how you've touched up +the old hoss, and I propose for you to try your hand on another +subject. There's poor Zach Jones, who's had the chills for six or eight +years as constant as sunrise and sunset, and no medicine can't do him +any good. Now I'll be bound if you'll try you can cure him sound and +well. All you need to do in the world is to pet him up some'at as you +have the ole hoss. Jist take a little interest in the feller an' he'll +come out all right. All he wants is to forget he ever had the ager and +take some light exercise and have some fun. Fun is the only medicine to +cure the chills with. Quinine is no 'count but to make a racket in a +feller's head, and calomel'll kill 'im, sure. Now I propose to let Zach +have a hoss and saddle and you must go out a riding with 'im and try to +divert his mind from his sorrows and aches and pains--now that's a good +girl, Rosie." + +Rose, whose healthful, impulsive, generous nature would not allow her to +refuse so well intended and withal so small a request, readily agreed to +do all she could in the matter, and very soon thereafter she and Zach +were the very best of friends, taking long rides together through +woodlands and up and down the pleasant lanes of 'Squire Martin's broad +estates. The young girl soon found the companionship of Zach, novel and +most awkward as it was at first, agreeable and almost charming in its +freshness and sincerity. As for Zach himself, he was the girl's slave +from the start. He could not do too much for her in his earnest, +respectful way. Women are always tyrants, and their tyranny seems to be +inversely as their size and directly as the size of the man upon whom it +is exerted. Rose was a very little chit of a maiden, and Zach was a +great big bony frame of a fellow. The result, of course, was despotism. +But, although Zach was a democrat, he seemed to like the oppression, and +ran after big-winged butterflies, opened gates, pulled down and put up +innumerable fences, climbed trees after empty bird nests, gathered +flowers and ferns--did everything, in fact, required of him by his +little queen. He became a daily visitor at the 'Squire's, and seemed to +have entirely forgotten everything else or utterly submerged it in his +unselfish devotion to the girl. The good 'Squire saw this with unbounded +delight. + +So August quietly drifted by, and September hung its yellow banner on +the corn and said farewell with a sigh that had in it a smack of winter. + +Rose's parents were wealthy and lived in Indianapolis, and now came the +time for the girl's return to her city home. Meanwhile a remarkable +change had taken place in the health and spirits of Zach Jones. The ague +had departed, the sallowness was gone from his skin, somewhat of flesh +had gathered on his cheeks, and in his eyes shone a cheerful light. He +was straight and almost plump, and his hair and beard had assumed a +gloss and liveliness they had never before known. He had thrown away +quinine and calomel, and his sleep at night was soft and sweet, broken +only by fair, happy dreams, that lingered long after he was awake. At +home his mother had far less trouble with him, and Sammy never got a +kick even if he did occasionally mention old fistleo in an equivocal +way. The amount of provender it required to satisfy Zach's appetite now +was a constant source of amazement to the widow. + +The evening preceding Rose's departure was a fine one. The woods were +gold, the sky was turquoise. Instead of riding, as usual, the young +people took a stroll in the 'Squire's immense orchard. The apples were +ripe and ready to be gathered into the cellars; their mellow fragrance +flavored the autumn air so delicately that Zach said it smelt sweeter +than an oven full of sugar cakes. + +When the young folk returned from their walk the 'Squire was standing on +the door step of his house. His quick eyes caught a glimpse of something +unsatisfactory in the faces of the approaching couple--Zach, +particularly, despite his evident effort to choke down something, +discovered unmistakable signs of suffering. Rose was simply sober and +thoughtful. + +"What now, Zach?" asked the 'Squire, "sick, eh?" "D'know; guess I'm in +for a shake; wish to the Lord it'd shake my back bone clean out'n me!" +was the reply, in a queer gurgling voice. A bunch of fall roses fell +from his vest button-hole, but he did not pick it up. A hot flush, in +the midst of a ghastly pallor, burned on the cheeks of the speaker. Rose +tapped the ground with the toe of her kid boot, but did not speak. + +The man and the girl stood there close together awhile, and the 'Squire +did not catch what they said as they shook hands and parted. When Zach +had gone home the 'Squire told Rose that he wished she would stay a +little longer, till the ague season was over, just on Zach's account. +Rose quietly replied, "I have already stayed too long;" but her voice +had an infinity of pity and sorrow in it that the 'Squire did not +detect. + +Next morning Rose went home to the city and soon after made a brilliant +_debut_ in society, for she was really a charming little thing. That +winter was a festive one--a season of great social activity--and some of +its most direct and prominent results were a few notable marriages in +the spring, among which was that of Rose to a banker of P----, Kentucky, +the happy union being consummated in May. + +On the very day of her wedding Rose received from her uncle the +following note: + + "DEAR NIECE: + + "Come to see us, even if you won't stay but one day. Come right + off, if you're a Christian girl. Zach Jones is dying of + consumption and is begging to see you night and day. He says + he's got something on his mind he wants to say to you, and when + he says it he can die happy. The poor fellow is monstrous bad + off, and I think you ought to be sure and come. We're all well. + Your loving uncle, + + "JARED MARTIN." + +Something in this homely letter so deeply affected Rose that she +prevailed on her husband, a few days after their marriage, to take her +to 'Squire Martin's. + +It was nearly sundown when the young wife, accompanied by the 'Squire, +entered the room of the dying man. He lay on a low bed by an open +window, through which, with hollow hungry eyes, he was gazing into the +blue distance that is called the sky of May. Birds were singing in the +trees all around the house, and a cool breath of violet-scented air +rippled through the window. The widow Jones, worn out with watching by +the sick bed, sat sleeping in her rude arm-chair; Sammy had gone after +the cow--a gift from the 'Squire. + +The visitors entered softly, but Zach heard them and feebly turned his +head. He put out a bloodless hand and clasped the warm fingers of Rose, +pulling her into a seat by his couch. A wan smile flitted across his +face as he fixed his eyes, burning like sparks in the gray ash of a +spent fire, on hers, dewy with rising tears. + +"The same little Rose you use to wus," he said, in a low faltering +voice, that had in it an unconquerable allegiance to the one dream of +his manhood. His unnaturally bright eyes ran swiftly over her face and +form, then closed, as if to fasten the vision within, that it might +follow him to eternity. + +"The same little Rose you use to wus," he repeated, "only now you're +picked off the vine an' nobody can't touch ye but the owner. I'm a +poor, no 'count dyin' man, Rose, but you'll never----." His voice choked +a little and he did not finish the sentence. Perhaps he thought it were +better not finished. + +A few moments of utter silence followed, during which, faintly, far out +in the field behind the house, was heard the childish voice of Sammy, +singing an old hymn, two lines of which were most distinctly heard by +those in the house. + +"Ah, yes-- + + "This world's a wilderness of woe, + This world it ain't my home," + +chimed in the trembling voice of the sick man. Then, by an effort that +evidently taxed his fading powers to the last degree, he fixed his eyes +firmly on those of the young woman. Here was a martyr of the divine +sort, true and unchangeable in the flame of the torture. + +"Rose, little Rose," he said, glancing uneasily at the 'Squire, "I've +got something private like to say to you." + +The young woman trembled. Memory was at work. + +"'Squire, go out a minute, will ye?" continued Zach. + +The sick man's request was promptly obeyed, and Rose sat, drooping, +alone beside the bed, while the widow snored away. + +Zach now more nervously clasped the hand of the young woman. A spot of +faint sunshine glimmered on the pillow close by the man's head. The +out-door sounds of the wind in the young grass, and the rustle of the +new soft leaves of the trees, crept into the room gently, as if not to +drown the low voice of the dying man. + +"It's been on my mind ever since we parted, Rose, and I ort 'a' said it +then, but I choked an' couldn't; but I kin say it now and I will." He +paused a moment and Rose looked pitifully at him. His chin was thrust +out firmly and his lips had a determined set. He looked just as he did +when about to knock the poor old horse on the head over in the dell that +day. How vividly the tragic situation was recalled in Rose's mind! + +"Yes, I will say it now, so I will," he resumed. "Since things turned +out jist as they have, Rose, I do wish I'd 'a' paid no 'tention to ye +an' jist gone on and knocked that derned ole fistleoed hoss so dead 'at +he'd 'a' never kicked--I do--I do, 'i hokey! I don't want to make ye +feel bad, but I'm goin' away now, an' it 'pears to me like as if I'd go +easy if I know'd you'd----." He turned away his face and drew just one +little fluttering breath. When, after only a few minutes' absence, the +'Squire came in, the widow still slept, the sweet air still rippled +through the room, but Rose held a dead hand; Zach was at rest! The +'Squire placed his hand on the bright hair of Rose and gazed mournfully +down into the pinched, pallid face of the dead. How awfully calm a dead +face is! + +The widow stirred in her chair, groaned, and awoke. For a moment she +bent her eyes wonderingly, inquiringly on the young woman; then, rising, +she clasped her in her great bony arms. + +"You are the Rose, the little Rose he's been goin' on so about. O, +honey, I'm orful glad you've come. You ort jist to 'a' heerd him talk +about ye when he got flighty like----but O--O--my! O Lor'! Zach--Zachy, +dear! O, Miss, O, he's dead--he's dead!" + +"Dead, yes, dead!" echoed the 'Squire, his words dropping with the +weight of lead. + +Across the fields of young green wheat ran waves of the spring wind, +murmuring and sighing, while the dust of blossoms wheeled, and rose and +fell in the last soft rays of the going sun. A big yellow butterfly +flitted through the room. + +Presently Sammy entered. He came in like a gust of wind, making things +rattle with his impetuous motion. + +"O, mammy! O, Zach! I's got s'thin' to tell ye, an' I'll bet a biscuit +you can't guess what 't is!" he cried breathlessly. + +"O, Sammy, honey, O, dear!" groaned the widow. + +"S-s-h!" said the 'Squire solemnly. + +"Well, I jist wanted 'm to guess," replied Sammy, "for it's awful +doggone cur'u's 'at----" + +"S-s-h!" + +"The fistleo is broke out on Zach's ole hoss ten times as wuss as ever!" + +"S-s-s-s-h!" + +"It's so, for I seed it. It's layin' down over in the hollow by 'tater +creek, where the ole clay root is, an' its jist about to d----." + +"S-s-h!" + +The child caught a glimpse of the face and was struck mute. And darkness +stole athwart the earth, but the morrow's sun drove it away. Never, +however, did any sun or any season chase from the heart of little Rose +the shadow that was the memory of the man who died in that cabin. + + + + +STEALING A CONDUCTOR. + + +He shambled into the bar-room of the hotel at Thorntown, a Boone County +village, and, with a bow and a hearty "how-de do to you all," took the +only vacant chair. He scratched a match and lighted his pipe. "Now we'll +be bored with some sort of a long-winded story," whispered some to +others of the loungers present. "Never knowed him to fail," said a lank +fellow, almost loud enough for the subject to hear. "He's our travelled +man," added a youth, who winked as if he were extremely intelligent and +didn't mind letting folks know it. + +The man himself whiffed away carelessly at his pipe, now and then +raising one eye higher than the other, to take a sort of side survey of +the persons present. That eye was not long in settling upon me, and +after a short, searching look, gleamed in a well pleased way. He was a +stout formed man of about fifty years, dressed rather seedily, and +wearing a plug hat of enormous height, the crown of which was battered +into the last degree of grotesqueness. He got right up, and, dragging +his chair behind him, came over and settled close down in front of me. + +"Stranger here, a'n't you?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your name's Fuller, a'n't it?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, mebbe I'm mistaken, but you're just the picter o' Fuller. Never +was a conductor on a railroad, was you?" + +"Never, sir." + +"Never was down in the swamps o' South-Eastern Georgy, was you?" + +"Never, sir." + +"Well, that beats four aces! I could 'a' bet on your bein' Fuller." He +paused a moment, and then added in a very insinuating tone: "If you +_are_ Fuller you needn't be afeard to say so, for I don't hold any +grudge 'gin you about that little matter. Now, sure enough, a'n't your +name Fuller, in fact?" + +I glared at the man a moment, hesitating about whether or not I should +plant my fist in his eye. But something of almost child-like simplicity +and sincerity beaming from his face restrained me. Surely the fellow did +not wish to be as impudent as his words would imply. + +"Well, stranger, I see I've got to explain, but the story's not overly +long," said he, hitching up a little closer to me and settling himself +comfortably. + +I was about to get up and walk out of the room, when some one of the +by-sitters filliped a little roll of paper to me. Unrolling it I read-- + +"Let him go on, he'll give you a lively one. He's a brick." + +So, concluding that possibly I might be entertained, I lounged back in +my seat. + +"You see," said he, "I thought you was Fuller, an' Fuller was the only +conductor I ever stole." + +"Stole a conductor," whispered somebody, "that's a new one!" + +"I've stole a good many things in my time, but I'm here to bet that no +other living Hoosier ever stole a railroad conductor, an' Fuller was the +only one I ever stole. I stole him slicker 'n a eel. I had him 'fore he +knowed it, and you jist better bet he was one clean beat conductor fore +I was done wi' 'im. + +"I kin tell you the whole affair in a few minutes, and I da' say you'll +laugh a good deal 'fore I'm through. You see I went down to Floridy for +my health, and when I had about recivered I got onto a bum in +Jacksonville and spent all my money and everything else but my very +oldest suit o' clothes and my pistol, a Colt's repeater, ten inch +barrel. None o' you can't tell how a feller feels in a predicament o' +that sort. Somethin' got into my throat 'bout as big as a egg, and I +felt kinder moist about the eyes when I had to stare the fact in the +face that I was nigh onto, or possibly quite a thousand miles from home +without ary a dime in my pocket. But if there's one thing I do have more +'n another in my nater it's common sense grit. Well, what you s'pose I +done? W'y I jest lit out for home afoot. Well, sir, the derndest swamps +is them Floridy and Georgy swamps. It's ra'lly all one swamp--the +Okeefenokee. I follered the railroad that goes up to Savanny, and it led +me deeper and deeper into the outlying fringes of that terrible old bog. +When I had travelled a considerable distance into Georgy, and had pretty +well wore my feet off up to my ankle j'ints, and was about as close onto +starvation as a 'tater failure in Ireland, and when my under lip had got +to hanging down like the skirt o' a wore out saddle, and when every step +seemed like it'd be my last, I jest got clean despairing like and +concluded to pray a little. So I got down upon my knee j'ints and put +up a most extra-ornary supplication. I felt every word o' it, too, in +all the marrer of my bones. The place where I was a prayin' was a sort +o' hummock spot in a mighty bad part o' the swamp. Some awful tall pines +towered stupenjisly above me. Well, jest as I was finished, and was a +saying amen, the lordy mercy what a yowl something did give right over +me in a tree! I think I jumped as high as your head, stranger, and come +down flat-footed onto a railroad cross tie. Whillikins, how I was +scared! It was one o' them whooping owls they have down there. It was +while I was a running from that 'ere owl a thinkin' it was a panther, +that the thought struck me somewhere in the back o' the head that I +might steal a ride to Savanny on the first train 'at might pass. 'I'll +try it!' says I, and so I sot right down there in the swamp and calmly +waited for a train. In about a hour here come one, like the de'il a +braking hemp, jist more'n a roaring through the swamp. I forgot to tell +you 'at it was after dark, but the moon was dimly a shining through the +fog that covers everything there o' nights. Well, here come the train, +and as she passed I made a lunge at the hind platform of the last car +and some how or another got onto it and away I went. It was mighty much +softer 'n walking, I tell you, and I was pleased as a monkey with a red +cap on. My, how fast that train did go! I could hardly hold onto where I +wus. You may jist bet I clung on though, and finally I got myself +setting down on the steps and then I was all hunkey. But I didn't have +much time to enjoy myself there, though, for all of a sudden the light +of a lantern shined on me and then somebody touched me and said-- + + 'Ticket!' + +"Mebbe you don't know how onery a feller'll feel sometimes when he hears +that 'ere word ticket--'specially when he a'n't got no ticket nor no +money to pay his fare, and too, when he does want to ride a little of +the derndest! That was my fix! I'd 'a' give a thousand dollars for a +half dollar! + + 'Ticket!' + +"He shook me a little this time and held his lantern down low, so's to +see into my face. I know I must 'a' looked like the de'il. + + 'Ticket here, quick!' + + 'I've done paid,' said I. + + 'Show your check then.' + + 'Lost it,' says I. + + 'Money, then, quick!' + + 'Got none,' says I. + + 'What the ---- did you git onto my train for without ticket or money? + How do you expect to travel without paying, you ---- lousy vagabond! You + can't steal from me; out with your ---- wallet and gi' me the money! + Hurry up!' + + 'A'n't got no wallet nor no money,' says I. + + 'Well, I'll dump you off right here, then,' said he, reaching for the + bell-rope to stop the train. + + 'For the Lord's sake let me ride to Savanny!' says I. + + 'A dam Northerner, I know from your voice!' said he, pulling the rope. + The train began to slack and soon stopped. + + 'Get off!' said the conductor. + + 'Please l'me ride!' says I. + + 'Off with you!' + + 'Jist a few miles here on the steps!' + + 'Off, quick!' + + 'Please----' + + 'Here you go!' and as he said the words he tried to kick me off. + +"In a second I was like a Bengal tiger. I jumped up and gethered him and +we went at it. I'm as good as ever fluttered, and pretty soon I give him +one flat on the nose, and we both went off 'n the platform together. As +I started off I happened to think of it, so I grabbed up and pulled the +bell-rope to signal the engineer to drive on. 'Hoot-toot!' says the +whistle, and away lick-to-split went the train, and slashy-to-splashy, +rattle-o-bangle, kewoppyty-whop, bump, thud! down me and that 'ere +conductor come onto a pile o' wore out cross ties in the side ditch, and +there we laid a fightin'! + +"But you jest bet it didn't take me long to settle _him_. He soon began +to sing out ''nuff! 'nuff! take 'm off!' and so I took him by the hair +and dragged him off 'n the cross ties, shot him one or two more under +the ear with my fist, and then dropped him. He crawled up and stood +looking at me as if I was the awfulest thing in the world. I s'pect I +did look scary, for I was terrible mad. His face was bruised up +mightily, but he wasn't a bleeding much. He was mostly swelled. + + 'Where's my train?' says he, in a sort o' blank, hollow way. + + 'Don't ye hear it?' I answered him, 'It's gone on to Savanny!' + + 'Gone! Who told 'm to go on? What'd they go leave me for?' + + 'I pulled the bell rope,' says I. + + '_You?_' + + 'Yes, _me_!' + + 'What in the world did you do _that_ for, man?' + + ''Cause you wouldn't let me ride to Savanny!' + + 'What'll I do! What'll I do!' he cried, beginning to waltz 'round like + one possessed. + +"I laughed--I couldn't help it--and at the same time I pulled out my old +pistol. + + 'Yah-hoo-a!' yelled another owl. + + 'For the sake o' humanity don't kill me!' said the conductor. + + 'I'm jest a going to shoot you a little bit for the fun o' the thing,' + says I. + + 'Mercy, man!' he prayed. + + 'Ticket!' says I. + +"He groaned the awfulest kind, and, by the moonlight, I saw 'at the big +tears was running down his face. I felt sorry for him, but I kinder +thought 'at after what he'd done he'd better pray a little, so I +mentioned it to him. + + 'I guess it mought be best if you'd pray a little,' says I, cocking the + pistol. My voice had a decided sepulchreal sound. The pistol clicked + very sharp. + + 'O, kind sir,' says he, 'O, dear sir, I never did pray, I don't know how + to pray!' + + 'Ticket or check!' says I, and he knowed I was talking kind o' sarcasm. + 'Pray quick!' + +"He got down and prayed like a Methodist preacher at his very best +licks. He must 'a' prayed afore. + +"About the time his prayer was ended I heard a train coming in the +distance. He jumped up and listened. + + 'Glory! Heaven be praised!' says he, capering around like a mad monkey, + 'They've missed me and are backing down to hunt me! Where's my lantern? + Have you a match? Gi'me your handkerchief!' + + 'Not so fast,' says I; 'you jest be moderate now, will you? I've no + notion o' you getting on that train any more. You jest walk along wi' + me, will you?' + + 'Where?' says he. + + 'Into the swamp,' says I; 'step off lively, too, d'you hear me?' + + 'O mercy, mercy, man!' says he. + + 'Ticket!' says I, and then he walked along wi' me into the swamp some + two or three hundred yards from the railroad. + +"I took him into a very thickety place, and made him back up agin a tree +and put back his arms around it. Then I took one o' his suspenders and +tied him hard and fast. Then I gagged him with my handkerchief. So far, +so good. + +"Here come the train slowly backing down, the brakesman a swinging +lanterns, and the passengers all swarming onto the platforms. Poorty +soon they stopped right opposite us. The conductor began to struggle. I +poked the pistol in his face and jammed the gag furder into his mouth. +He saw I meant work and got quiet. + +"The passengers was swarming off 'n the train and I saw 'at I must git +about poorty fast if I was to do anything. I soon hit on a plan. I jist +stepped back a piece out o' sight o' the conductor and turned my coat, +which was one o' these two-sided affairs, one side white, t'other brown. +I turned the white side out. Then I flung away my greasy skull cap and +took a soft hat out 'n my pocket and put it on. Then I watched my chance +and mixed in with the passengers who was a hunting for the conductor. + + 'Strange what's become o' him,' says I to a fat man, who was puffing + along. + + 'Dim strange, dim strange,' says the big fellow, in a keen, wheezing + voice. + +"Well, you never saw jist sich hunting as was done for that conductor. +Everybody slopped around in the swamp till their clothes was as wet and +muddy as mine. I was monstrous active in the search. I hunted +everywhere 'cepting where the conductor was. Finally he got the gag spit +out and lordy how he did squeal for help. Everybody rushed to him and +soon had him free. + +"It tickled me awful to hear that conductor explaining the matter. He +told it something like this: + + 'Devil of a great big ruffian on hind platform. Asked him for ticket. + Refused. Tried to put him off. Grabbed me. Smashed my nose. Flung me + off. Pulled the bell-rope, then lit out on me. Mauled ---- out o' me. + Had a pistol two feet long. Made me pray. Heard train a coming. Took me + to swamp. Tied me and sloped. Lord but I'm glad to see you all!' + +"We all went aboard o' the train and I rode to Savanny onmolested. The +conductor didn't mistrust me. He asked me for my check and I told him +'at I'd lost it a thrashing round in the bushes a hunting him. That was +all right. + +"When we got to Savanny I couldn't help letting the conductor know me, +so as I passed down the steps of the car I whispered savagely in his +ear: + + 'Ticket! dod blast you!' + +"He tried to grab me as I shambled off into the crowd, but I knowed the +ropes. I heard him a shoutin'-- + + 'There he goes! Ketch him, dern him, ketch him!' But they didn't. + +"That conductor's name was Fuller, and I swear, stranger, 'at you look +jest like him! Gi' me a match, will you, my pipe's out. Thanky. Hope I +ha'n't bored you. Good bye all." + +He shambled out and I never saw him again. + + + + +HOIDEN. + + +The house was known as Rackenshack throughout the neighborhood for miles +around. It was a frame structure, originally of sorry workmanship, at +least thirty years old, and upon which not a cent's worth of repairing +had been done since first erected, wherefore the name was peculiarly +appropriate. It was not only old, rickety, paintless, half rotten and +sadly sunken at one end, but the fencing around the place was broken, +grown over with weeds, and slanted in as many ways as there were panels. +The lawn or yard in front of the house had some old cherry trees, +gnarled and decaying, growing in what had once been straight rows, but +storms and more insidious vicissitudes had twisted and curled them about +till they looked as though they had been thrown end foremost at the +ground hap-hazard. Under and all round these trees young sprouts, from +the scattered cherry seeds of many years of fruiting, had grown so thick +that one could with difficulty get through them. A narrow, well-beaten +path led from the gate, which lazily lolled on one hinge, up to the +decayed and sunken porch, in front of which was the well, with its +lop-eared windlass and dilapidated curb and shed. + +A country thoroughfare, one of the old State roads leading westward to a +ferry on the Wabash river near the village of Attica and eastward to +either Crawfordsville, Indianapolis or Lafayette. This road was in the +direct line of emigration, and in the proper seasons long lines of +covered wagons rolled past, the drivers, a jolly set, hallooing to each +other and bandying sharp wit and rude sarcasm at the expense of +Rackenshack. Poor old house, it leered at the passers, with its windows +askew, and clattered its loose boards and battered shutters in utter and +complacent defiance of all their jeers! + +Rackenshack belonged to Luke Plunkett and Betsy, his sister; the latter +an old maid beyond all cavil, the former a bachelor of about thirty. The +lands of the estate were pretty broad, comprising some two thousand +acres of rich prairie and "river bottom" land, which had been kept in a +much better state of improvement than the house had. In fact, Luke was +considered a careful, industrious, frugal farmer. He had large, well +regulated barns and stock sheds and stables--plenty of fine horses, +cattle, hogs, sheep and mules, all well fed and cared for, and it was +generally understood that he had a pretty round deposit in a bank. + +Perhaps 'Squire Rube Fink, sometimes called "the Rev. Major Fink" and +sometimes "Talking Rube," gives the best description of Luke's +condition, habits and surroundings, that I can offer. It is truthful and +singularly graphic. He says: + +"Luke Plunkett's no fool if he does live at Rack-a-me-shack and 'spect +the ole rotten tabernacle to fall down on him every time a rooster crows +close by. That feller's long-headed, he is. To be sure, sartinly, his +barn's a dern sight better 'n his house, but his head's level, for, d'ye +see, that's the way to make money. A house don't never make no money for +a feller--it's nothin' but dead capital to put money into a fine +dwellin'. Luke's pilin' his money in the bank. He's been doin' a sharp +thing in wheat and live stock at Cincinnati, and I guess he knows what +he's about. He don't keer about what sort o' house he lives in. But I +tell you that red haired sister o' his'n is lightning. She's what bosses +the job all round that ole shanty; but she can't red-hair it over Luke +in the farm matters. He has his own way. He's so quiet and peculiar; a +still, say nothin', bull-dog sort o' man he is." + +Indeed, Luke was one of that quiet sort of men who, without ever once +loudly asserting a right or disputing any word you say, invariably go +ahead on their own judgment and carry their point in everything. +Nevertheless, he was a man of fine, generous nature at bottom, a good +brother and a worthy friend. + +But it was with Luke just as it is, more or less, with us all. He +absorbed into his life the spirit of his surroundings. He grew somewhat +to resemble Rackenshack in outward appearance. He became slovenly in his +dress and let his hair and beard grow wild. His naturally handsome face +gradually took on a sort of good humored ugliness, and his heavy +shoulders slanted over like the uneven gables of his house. He became an +inveterate chewer and smoker of tobacco. What time a quid of the weed +was not in his mouth, the short thick stem of a dark, nicotine-coated +briar-root pipe took its place there. + +Luke was an early riser; therefore it happens that our story properly +begins on a fine June morning, just before sunrise. The birds seemed to +suspect that a story was to date from that hour, for they were up +earlier than usual and made a great rustle of wings and a sweet Babel of +voices in the old cherry trees. There were the oriole, the cat bird, the +yellow throat, the brown thrush and the red bird, all putting forth at +once their charmingest efforts. The old cherry trees, knee deep in the +foliage of their under growing seedlings, gleamed dusky green in the +early light, as Luke, bareheaded, barefooted and in his "shirt sleeves," +as the phrase goes, issued from the front door of Rackenshack, and +walked down the path across the yard to the gate at the road. Of late he +had been in the habit of "taking a smoke" the first thing after getting +up in the morning, and somehow the gate, though off one hinge and having +doubtful tenure of the other, was his favorite thing to lean upon while +watching the whiffs of blue smoke slowly float away. + +On this particular morning he seemed a little agitated; and, indeed, he +was vexed more deeply than he had ever before been. Just the preceding +evening he had learned that a corps of civil engineers were rapidly +approaching his premises with a line of survey, and that the purpose was +to locate and build a railway right through the middle of his farm. To +Luke the very idea was outrageous. He felt that he could never stand +such an imposition. His land was his own, and when he wanted it dug up +and leveled down and a track laid across it he would do it himself. He +did not want his farm cut in two, his fields disarranged and his fences +moved, nor did he wish to see his live stock killed by locomotives. The +truth is he was bitterly opposed to railroads, any how. They were +innovations. They were enemies to liberty. They brought fashion, and +spendthrift ways, and speculation, and all that along with them. Other +folks might have railroads if they wanted them, but they must not bother +him with them. He could take care of his affairs without any railroads. +Besides, if he wanted one he could build it. He hung heavily upon the +gate, thinking the matter over, and would not have bestowed a second +glance at the carriage that came trundling past if he had not caught the +starry flash of a pair of blue eyes and a rosy, roguish girl's face +within. The beauty of that countenance struck the great rough fellow +like a blow. He stared in a dazed, bewildered way. He took his pipe from +his mouth and involuntarily tried to hide his great big bare feet behind +the gate post. He felt a queer, dreamy thrill steal all over him. It +was his first definite impression of feminine beauty. Instantly that +round, happy, mischievous face, with its dimples and indescribable +shining lines of half latent mirth, set itself in his heart forever. + +The carriage trundled on in the direction of the ferry. Luke followed it +with his eyes till it disappeared round a turn in the road; then he put +the pipe to his mouth again and began puffing vigorously, wagging his +head in a way that indicated great confusion of mind. There are times +when a glimpse of a face, the sudden half-mastering of a new, grand +idea, a view of a rare landscape or even a cadence in some new tune, +will start afresh the long dried up wells of a heart. Something like +this had happened to Luke. + +"Sich a gal! sich a gal!" he murmured from the corner of his mouth +opposite his pipe stem. "I don't guess I'm a dreamin' now, though I feel +a right smart like it. I _hev_ dreamed of that 'ere face though, many of +times. I've seed it in my sleep a thousand times, but I never s'posed +'at I'd see it shore enough when I'd be awake! Sweetest dreams I ever +had--sweetest face God ever made! I wonder who she is?" As if to +supplement Luke's soliloquy at this point, a cardinal red bird flung +out from the dusky depths of the oldest cherry tree an ecstatic carol, +and a swallow, swooping down from the clear purple heights, almost +touched the man's cheek with its shining wings, and the sun lifted its +flaming face in the east and flooded the fields with gold. + +Luke turned slowly toward the old house. The breeze that came up with +the sun poured through the orchard with a broad, joyous surge, while +something like blowing of strange winds and streaming of soft sunlight +made strangely happy the inner world of the smitten Hoosier. His big +strong heart fluttered mysteriously. He actually took his pipe from his +lips and broke into a snatch of merry song, that startled Betsy, his +sister, from her morning nap. + +For the time the hated railroad survey was forgotten. The landscape at +Rackenshack, as if by a turn of the great prisms of nature, suddenly +took on rainbow hues. The fields flashed with jewels, and the woods, a +wall of dusky emerald, were wrapped in a roseate mist, stirred into +dreamy motion by the breeze. A light, grateful fragrance seemed to +pervade all space, as if flung from the sun to soften and enhance the +charm of his gift of light and heat. Such a hold did all this take upon +Luke, and so utterly abstracted was he, that when breakfast was ready +Betsy was obliged to remind him of the fact that he had neglected to +wash his face and hands, and comb his hair and beard--things absolutely +prerequisite to eating at her table. + +"Forgot it, sure's the world," said Luke; "don't know what ever +possessed me." + +"Maybe you've forgot to turn the cows into the milk stalls, too?" said +Betsy. + +"If I ha'n't I'm a gourd!" and Luke scratched his head distractedly. + +"What'd I tell you, Luke Plunkett? It's come at last, O lordy! You're as +crazy as a June bug all along of smoking that old pipe! Rot the nasty, +stinking old thing! It's a perfect shame, Luke, for a man to just smoke +what little brains he's got clean out. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, so you ought!" + +While she was speaking Betsy got the big wooden washbowl for her +brother, whereupon he proceeded to make his ablutions in a most +energetic way, taking up great double handfuls of water and sousing his +face therein with loud puffings, that enveloped his head in a cloud of +spray. + +When a clean tow linen towel had served its purpose, Luke remarked: + +"Don't know but what I _am_ some'at crazy in good earnest, Betsy, since +I come to think it all over. I'm r'ally onto it a right smart. What'd +you think, Betsy, if I'd commence talkin' 'oman to ye?" + +"Luke, Luke! are you crazy? Is your mind clean gone out of your poor +smoky head?" + +"That's not much of a answer to my question." + +"Well, what _do_ you mean, _anyhow_?" + +"I mean business, that's what!" + +"Luke!" + +"Yes'm." + +"Do try to act sensible now. What is it, Luke? What makes your eyes look +so strange and dance about so? What do you mean by all this queer talk?" + +Luke finished combing, and, going to the table, sat down and was +proceeding to discuss the fried chicken and coffee without further +remark, but Betsy was not so easily balked. She, like most red haired +women, wished her questions to be fully and immediately answered, +wherefore some indications of a storm began to appear. + +Luke smiled a quiet little smile that had hard work getting out through +his beard. Betsy trotted her foot under the table. Her hand trembled as +she poured the coffee--trembled so violently that she scalded her left +thumb. It was about time for Luke to speak or have trouble, so, in a +very gentle voice, he said: + +"Well, I saw a gal--a gal an' her father, I reckon--go by this mornin'." + +"Well, what of it? S'pose there's plenty of girls and their fathers, +ain't there?" snapped Betsy. + +Luke drew a chicken leg through his mouth, laid down the bone, leered +comically at his sister from under his bushy eyebrows, and said: + +"But the gal was purty, Betsy--purty as a pictur', sweet as a peach, +juicy an' temptin' as a ripe, red cored watermillion! You can't begin to +guess how sweet an' nice she did look. My heart just flolloped and +flopped about, an' it's at it yet!" + +"Luke Plunkett, you _are_ crazy! You're just as distracted as a blind +dog in high rye. Drink a cup of hot coffee, Luke, and go lie down a bit, +you'll feel better." The spinster was horrified beyond measure. She +really thought her brother crazy. + +The man finished his meal in silence, smiling the while more grimly +than before, after which he took his shot gun and a pan of salt and +trudged off to a distant field to salt some cattle. He always carried +his gun with him on such occasions, and not unfrequently brought back a +brace of partridges or some young squirrels. As he strode along, +thinking all the time of the girl in the carriage, he suddenly came upon +a corps of engineers with transit, level, rod and chain, staking out, +through the centre of a choice field, a line of survey for a railroad. +In an instant he was like a roaring lion. He glared for a second or so +at the intruders, then lowering his gun he charged them at a run, +storming out as he did so: + +"What you doin' here, you onery cusses, you! Leave here! Get out! +Scratch! Sift! Dern yer onery skins, I'll shoot every dog of ye! Git out +'n here, I say--out, out!" + +The corps stampeded at once. The surveyor seized his transit, the +leveller his level, the rod man his rod, the axe men and chain men their +respective implements, and away they went, "lick-to-split, like a passel +o' scart hogs," as Luke afterwards said, "as fast as they could ever +wiggle along!" + +No wonder they ran, for Luke looked like a demon of destruction. It was +a wild race for the line fence, a full half mile away. The leveler, +being the hindmost man, rolled over this fence just as a heavy bowlder, +hurled by Luke, struck the top rail. It was a close shave, a miss of a +hair's breadth, a marvelous escape. Luke rushed up to the fence and +glared over at his intended victims. Here he knew he must stop, for he +doubted the legality of pursuing them beyond the confines of his own +premises. Somewhat out of breath he leaned on the fence and proceeded to +swear at the corps individually and collectively, shaking his fists at +them excitedly, till the appearance of a new man on the scene made him +start and stare as if looking at a ghost. He was a well dressed, +gentlemanly appearing person of about the age of forty-five, pale and +thoughtful--calm, gray eyed, commanding. Luke recognized him at once as +the man he had seen in the carriage, and, indeed, the vehicle itself +stood hard by, with a beautiful, laughing, roguish face looking out of +one of the windows. The lion in the stalwart farmer was quelled in an +instant. He felt his legs grow weak. He set his gun by the fence and +touched his hat to the little lady. + +"Your name, I believe, is Luke Plunkett?" said the approaching +gentleman. + +"Yes, sir," said Luke. + +"You own two thousand acres of land here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your residence is called Rackenshack?" + +"Yes, sir." (Suppressed titter from the carriage.) + +"So I thought. Pull back, men (addressing the corps), pull back to where +you dropped the line and bring it right along. Mr. Plunkett will not +harm you now." + +The corps began to move. Luke fiercely seized his gun; but before he +could lift it or utter a word, a ten-inch Colt's repeater was thrust +into his face by the calm gentleman, and a steady hand held it there. + +"Mr. Plunkett," said the man, "I am the chief engineer of the ---- +Railroad. I am making a location. The laws of this State give me the +right to go upon your land with my corps and have the survey made. I am +not to be trifled with. If you offer to cock that gun I'll put six holes +through you. What do you say, now?" + +The voice was that of a cold man of business. There was a coffin in +every word. The muzzle of the pistol steadily covered Luke's left eye. +The situation was rigid. Luke hesitated--his face ashy with anger and +fear, his eyes alternating their glances between the muzzle of the +pistol and that wonderful shining face at the carriage. + +"Shoot him, papa, shoot him! Shoot him!" Sweet as a silver bell rang out +the girl's voice, more like a ripple of idle song than a murderous +request, and then a clear, happy laugh went echoing off through the +woods in which the carriage stood. + +Slowly, steadily, Luke let fall the breech of his gun upon the ground +beside him. The engineer smiled grimly and lowered his pistol, while the +corps, headed by the surveyor, took up its line of march to the point +where work had been so suddenly left off. + +The young lady clapped her tiny white hands for joy. + +A big black woodpecker began to cackle in a tree hard by. + +Luke felt like a man in a dream. + +The whole adventure, so far, had been clothed in most unreal seeming. + +It can hardly be told how, by rapid transitions from one thing to +another in his talk, the engineer drew Luke's mind away from the late +difficulty and gradually aroused in him a kindly feeling. In less than +ten minutes the two men were sitting side by side on a log, smoking +cigars from the engineer's pouch and chatting calmly, amicably. + +Luke's eyes often rested steadily fixed in the direction of the +carriage. Through the thin veil of tobacco smoke the face of the young +girl seemed to the farmer angelic in its beauty. All around the sweets +of summer rose and fell, and drifted like scarcely visible shining +mists, fraught with the spice of leaf and perfume of blossom, agitated +by swells of tricksy wind, going on and on to the mysterious goal of the +season. + +The two men talked on until the corps had pushed the line of survey far +past them into the cool, shady deeps of the woods, whence their voices +came back fainter and fainter every moment. At length the engineer +arose, and stretching out his hand to Luke, said: + +"Mr. Plunkett, I'm sure I'll be able to serve you some time; let us be +friends. I shall be in this vicinity most of the time till the road is +built. No doubt I can show a way to profit by the construction of a +railroad across your land. If you are sharp it will make your fortune. I +like your independent way, sir, and hope to know you better. Here is my +card." + +Luke took the bit of pasteboard without saying a word. They shook hands +and the engineer got into his carriage. + +"Here's my card, too, Mr. Plunkett," cried the girl. She said something +more, but the horses were made to plunge rapidly away, and the words +were lost; but the flash of a white jewelled hand caught Luke's eye as a +delicately tinted card came fluttering towards him. He sprang and seized +it. If a bag of diamonds had been flung at his feet he could not have +been more excited. His hands trembled. All the incidents of the only +fairy tale he had ever read came at once into his mind. He stood with +his feet turned in, like some great awkward boy, a bashful, shame-faced +look lurking about his mouth and eyes. He filled his pipe and lighted it +from the stump of his cigar with nervous eagerness. A squirrel came down +to the lowest limbs of a beech tree hard by and barked at him, but he +did not notice it. He read the names on the cards: + + "_Elliot Pearl, C. E._" + "_Hoiden Pearl._" + +The first printed in small capitals, the second written in a delicate, +rather cramped feminine hand. He stood for a long time dreamily employed +in turning these bits of paper over and over. His thoughts were so vague +in outline and so dim in filling up that they cannot be reproduced. They +slipped away on the summer air, like little puffs of perfume, and were +lost, to be found by many and many a one in the ineffable places of +dreamland. Finally, shaking himself as if to break the charm that held +him in its meshes, he took up his gun and slowly made his way homeward. +All along his walk he kept smiling to himself and talking aloud, but his +words were such that it would be sacrilege to repeat them now. Let them +hover about in the sunlight of summer, where he uttered them, as things +too delicate to be pressed between the lids of a book. + +Betsy had trouble with Luke for some days after this. He lay about the +house, saying little, eating little, giving little attention to the many +tenants who worked his estate. He was in good health, was not in trouble +(so he said to his sister), but he did not care to be bothered with +business. He was tired and would rest awhile. "He smoked pretty near all +the time," as Betsy declared. But not a hint fell from his lips as to +what might be running in his mind. + +So the days slipped past till July hung golden mists on the horizon and +filled the woods with that rare stillness and dusky slumbrousness that +follows the maturing of the foliage and the coming on of fruit. The +cherry trees at Rackenshack had grown ragged and dull, and the birds, +excepting a few swallows wheeling about the old chimney tops, had all +flown away to the woods and fields. The wheat had been cut and stacked, +the corn had received its last ploughing. Still Luke hung about the +house annoying Betsy with his pipe and his utter carelessness. That he +was "distracted" Betsy did not for a moment doubt. She used every means +her small stock of wit could invent to urge him out of his singular +mood, but without avail. He took to the few old novels he could find +about the house, but sometimes he would gaze blankly at a single +paragraph for a whole hour. + +One morning as he lay on the porch, his head resting upon the back of a +chair, reading, or pretending to read an odd volume of "The Scottish +Chiefs," a little boy, 'Squire Brown's son, came to bring home a +monkey-wrench his father had borrowed some time before. The boy was a +bright, rattle-box, say-everything, pop-eyed sort of child, and was not +long telling all the news of the neighborhood. Luke gave little +attention to what he was saying, till at length he let fall something +about a young lady--a fine, rich young lady, staying at Judge +Barnett's--a young lady who could outrun him, out jump him, beat him +playing marbles and ball, who could climb away up in the June apple +tree, who could ride a colt bareback, who could beat Jim Barnett +shooting at a mark, who could, in fact, do a half a hundred things to +perfection that strict persons would think a young lady should never do +at all, but which seemed to make a heroine of her in the narrator's +boyish view. + +"What's the gal's name?" queried Luke in a slow, lazy way, but his eyes +shot a gleam of hope. + +"Hoidy Pearl," replied the lad. + +Hoiden Pearl! That name had been woven into every sound that had reached +Luke's ears for days and nights and nights together, and now, like a +sweet tune nearly mastered, it took a deeper, tenderer meaning as the +boy pronounced it in his childish way. + +"Hoidy Pearl is her name," the lad continued. "She's come to stay at the +Judge's all summer till the new railroad's finished. Her father's the +boss of the road. She's jest the funniest girl, o-o-e! And she likes me, +too!" + +Luke raised himself to a sitting posture and looked at the boy so +earnestly that he drew back a pace or two as if afraid. + +"Boy, you're not lyin', are ye?" said the man in a low, earnest tone. + +"No I'm not, neither," was the quick reply. + +Luke got up, flung aside his book and strolled off into the woods. +Wandering there in the cool, silent places, he dreamed his dream. For +hours he sat by a little spring stream in the dense shadow of a big +cotton-wood tree. The birds congregated about him, and chirped and sang; +the squirrels came out chattering and frisking from branch to branch; +but he gave them no look of recognition--he saw them not, heard them +not. The birds might have lit upon his head and the squirrels might have +run in and out of his pockets with impunity. He smoked all the time, +refilling and relighting his pipe whenever it burned out. He did not +know how much he was smoking, nor that he was smoking at all. A bright +face set in a mass of yellow curls, a wee white hand all spangled with +jewels, a voice sweeter than any bird's, a name--Hoiden Pearl--these +rang, and danced, and echoed, and shone in the recesses of his brain and +heart to the exclusion of all else. He was trying to think, but he could +not. He wanted to mature a plan, but not even an outline could find room +in his head. It was full. Strange, indeed, it may seem, that a rough +farmer of Luke's age should thus fall into the ways of the imaginative, +sentimental stripling; but, after all, the fit must come on some time +in life. No doubt it goes harder with some constitutions than with +others. Luke may have been unwittingly strongly predisposed that way. +Neither the exterior of a man nor his surroundings will do to judge him +by. Nature is that mysterious in all her ways. Luke talked aloud, +sometimes gesticulating in a quiet way. + +"I _must_ see the gal--I _will_ see the gal," he muttered at last. "It's +no use talkin', I jist will see her!" + +Suddenly a light broke from his face. He smiled like one who has victory +in his grasp--like an editor who has an idea, like a reviewer who has +found some bad verse. He got up immediately, went back to the barn, +hitched a horse to a small road wagon and drove to town. There he spent +time and money with a merchant tailor and other vendors of clothing. He +was very fastidious in his selection. Nothing but the finest would do +him. A few days after this he brought home a trunk full of princely +raiment--broad cloth and fine linen. Betsy was struck dumb with +amazement when the trunk was opened. A dream of such costly things, such +reckless extravagance, would have driven her mad. Silent, open-eyed, +wondering, she came in and stood behind Luke while he was unpacking. He +looked up presently and saw her. His face flushed violently, and in a +half-whining, half-ashamed tone he muttered: + +"Now, Betsy, you jest git out'n here faster'n ye come in, for I'm not +goin' to stan' no foolin' at all, now. These 'ere's my clothes and paid +for out'n my money, an' I'm the jedge of what I need. I ha'n't had any +good duds for a long time, and I'm tired o' lookin' like a scarecrow +made out'n a salt bag. I've been thinkin' for a long time I'd git these +'ere things, an' now I've got'm. You kin git you some if ye like, but I +don't want ye a standin' round here gawpin' at me on 'count o' my +clothes; so you go off an' mind yer own affairs. It's no great sight to +see some shirts, an' coats, and pants, an' collars, an' vests, an' sich +like, is it?" + +Before this speech was finished Betsy had backed out of the room and +closed the door. As she did so she let go a sigh that came back to Luke +like a Parthian arrow; but it happened just then that he was holding up +in front of him a buff linen vest which kept the missile from his heart. + +He dressed himself with great care, and an hour later he slipped out of +the house unseen, and took his way towards the rather pretentious +residence of Judge Barnett, the gables of which, a mile away, gleamed +between rows of Lombardy poplars. The Judge was one of those half +cultivated men who, in every country neighborhood, pass for prodigies of +learning and ability. He was the autocrat of the county in political and +social affairs--one of those men who really know a great deal, but who +arrogate more. He got his title from having been County Commissioner +when the court house was building. Some said he made money out of the +transaction, but our story is silent there. + +It would have been an interesting study for a philosopher to have +watched Luke throughout the singular ramble he took that morning. It +would have been such a manifest revelation of the state of the fellow's +feelings. It would have minutely disclosed, and more eloquently than any +verbal confession, the rise and fall, the ebb and flow, the alternating +strength and weakness of his purpose, and the will behind it. Then, too, +it would have let fall delightful hints of the unselfishness of his new +and all-engrossing passion, and of the charming simplicity and sincerity +of his great rugged nature at its inner core. At first he struck out +boldly a direct line to Judge Barnett's residence, his face beaming +with the light of settled happiness, but as he neared the pleasant +grounds surrounding the house he began to discover some trepidation. His +gait wavered, the expression of his face shifted with each step, and +soon his course was indeterminate--a fitful sauntering from this place +to that--a tricksy, uneven flight, like that of a lazy butterfly, if one +may indulge the comparison--a meandering in and out among the trees of a +small walnut grove--a strolling here and there, now along the verge of a +well set old orchard, now down the low hedge behind the garden, and anon +leaning over the board fence that inclosed the Judge's ample barn and +stable lot; he gazed wistfully, half comically, in the direction of the +upper windows of the farm house. It was one of those peculiarly yellow +days of summer, when everything swims in a golden mist. The blue birds +floated aimlessly about from stake to stake of the fences; the wind, +felt only in jerky puffs, blew no particular way, and as idly and as +eccentrically as any blue bird, and in full accord with the fitful will +of the wind, Luke drifted through the sheen of summer all round Barnett +Place. He lazed about, humming a tune, and, for a wonder, not +smoking--half restless, half contented, looking for something, scarcely +expecting anything. When once a great rough man does get into a childish +way, he is a child of which ordinary children would be ashamed, and just +then Luke, the big bashful fellow, was an instance strikingly in point. +Occasionally he talked half aloud to himself. Once, while lounging on +the orchard fence, gazing down between the long rows of russet and +pippin trees, he said dreamily, + +"I _must_ see her. I can't go back 'ithout seein' her." It so chanced +that just then a shower of blackbirds fell upon the orchard, covering +the trees and the ground, flying over and over each other, twittering +and whistling as only blackbirds can. Their wings smote together with a +tender rustling sound like that of a spring wind in young foliage, or of +a thousand lovers whispering together by moonlight. Luke watched them a +long while, a doleful shade gathering in his face. "The little things +loves each other," he muttered; "everything loves something; an' jest +dern my lights ef I don't love the gal, an' I'm boun' to see her!" +Seemingly nerved by sudden resolution, he climbed over the fence and +started at a slashing pace across the orchard towards the house, scaring +all the birds into an ecstasy of flight, so that they dashed themselves +against the foliage of the apple trees, making it rustle and sway as if +blown on by a strong wind. He did not keep on, however. His resolution +seemed to burn out about midway the orchard. He began to drift around +again, his pace becoming slower and slower. His shoulders drooped +forward as if burdened with a great load, his eyes turned restlessly +from side to aide. + +"I jest can't do it!" he murmured--"I jest can't do it, an' I mought as +well go back!" There was a petulant ring to his voice--a nervous, +worried tone, that had despair in it. + +Out of a June apple tree right over his head fell a sweet, silvery, half +child's, half woman's voice, that thrilled him through every fibre to +the marrow of his bones. + +"What's the matter, Goosey? What have you lost! What are you hunting +for? Want a good apple?" + +Luke looked up just in time to catch squarely on his nose a fine, ripe +June apple, and through a mist of juice and a sheeny curtain of leaves +he saw the lovely face he had come to look for. A thump on the nose from +an apple, no matter if it is ripe and soft, is a little embarrassing, +and it only makes it more so when the racy wine of the fruit flies into +one's eyes and all over one's new clothes. But there are moments of +supreme bliss when such a mishap passes unnoticed. Luke felt as if the +blow had been the touch of a magician conjuring up a scene that held him +rapt and speechless. + +"O, my! I didn't go to hit you! Please excuse me, sir--do. I thought +you'd catch it in your hands." + +She came lightly down from the tree, descending like a bird, easily, +gracefully, as if she had been born to climb. She murmured many +apologies, but the genius of fun danced in her saucy, almost impertinent +eyes, belying her regretful words. Luke looked down at her dazed and +speechless. She, however, was full of prattle--half childish, half +womanly, half serious, half bantering--her eyes upturned to his, her +voice a very bird's in melody. In the more innocent sense of the word +she looked like her name, Hoiden. Nothing unchaste or indelicate about +her appearance; just a sort of want of restraint; a freedom that +amounted to an utter lack of responsibility to the ordinary claims and +dictates of propriety. A close, trained, intelligent observer would have +seen at once that she was wilful, spoiled, unbridled, but not bad, not +in the least vicious; really innocent and full of good impulses. She was +beautiful, too--wonderfully beautiful--just on the hither side of +womanhood, plump, budding, bewitching. How she did it can never be +known, but she soon had Luke racing with her all over the orchard. They +climbed trees together, they scrambled for the same apple, they laughed, +and shouted, and played till the horn at the farmhouse called the field +hands to dinner. They parted then, as children part, promising to meet +again the next day. The girl's cheeks were rosy with exercise, so were +Luke's. + +How strange! Day after day that great, bearded, almost middle-aged, +uncouth farmer went and played slave to that chit of a girl, doing +whatever ridiculous or childish thing she proposed, caring for nothing, +asking for nothing but to be with her, listen to her voice and feast his +eyes upon her beauty. He gladly bore everything she heaped upon him, and +to be called "Goosey" by her was to him inexpressibly charming. + +Betsy's womanly nature was not to be deceived. She soon comprehended +all; but she dared not mention the subject to Luke. He was in no mood to +be opposed. So he went on--and Betsy sighed. + +The summer softened into autumn. The maple leaves reddened. The long +grass turned brown and lolled over. A softness and tenderness lurked in +the deep blue sky, and the air had a sharp racy fragrance from ripe +fruit and grain. Meantime the railroad had been pushed with amazing +rapidity nearly to completion. Every day long construction trains went +crashing-across Luke's farm. Passenger coaches were to be put on in a +few days. Luke was the very picture of happiness. He seemed to grow +younger every day. His worldly prospects, too, were flattering. A +station had been located on his land, around which a town had already +begun to spring up. The vast value of Luke's timber, walnut and oak, was +just beginning to appear; indeed, immense wealth lay in his hands. But +his happiness was of a deeper and purer sort than that generated by +simple pecuniary prosperity. Hoiden Pearl was in the focus of all his +thoughts; her face lighted his dreams, her voice made the music that +charmed him into a wonderland of bliss. He said little about her, even +to Betsy, but it needed no sharpness of sight to discover from his face +what was going on in his heart. He had even forgotten his pipe. He had +not smoked since that first day in the orchard. He had straightened up +and looked a span taller. + +The girl did not seem to dream of any tender attachment on Luke's part. +In fact he gave her no cause for it. He fed on his love inwardly and +never thought of telling it. To be with her was enough. It satisfied all +his wants. She was frank and free with him, but tyrannized over +him--ordered him about like a servant, scolded him, flattered him, +pouted at him, smiled on him, indeed kept him crazy with rapture all the +time. Once only she became confidentially communicative. It was one day, +sitting on an old mossy log in the Judge's woodland pasture, she told +him the story of her past life. How thrillingly beautiful her face +became as it sobered down with the history of early orphanage! Her +father had died first; then her mother, who left her four years old in +the care of Mr. Pearl, her paternal uncle, with whom she had ever since +been, going from place to place, as the calls of his nomadic profession +made it necessary, from survey to survey, from this State to that, +seeing all sorts of people, and receiving her education in small, +detached parcels. The story was a sad, unsatisfactory one, breathing +neglect, yet full of a certain kind of sprightliness, and touched here +and there with the fascination of true romance. + +It is hard to say when Luke would have awakened from his tender trance +to the strong reality of love. He was too contented for +self-questioning, and no act or word of Hoiden's invited him to consider +what he was doing or whither he was drifting. + +It was well for Luke and the girl, too, that it was a sparsely settled +neighborhood, for evil tongues might have made much of their constant +companionship and childish behavior. + +As for the Judge, after it was all over he admitted that he felt some +qualms of conscience about allowing such unlimited intimacy to go on, +but he excused himself by saying that the girl, when confined to the +house, was such an unmitigated nuisance that he was glad for some one to +monopolize her company. + +"Why," said he, in his peculiar way, "she set the whole house by the +ears. She made more clatter and racket than a four-horse Pennsylvania +wagon coming down a rocky hill. She would go from garret to cellar like +a whirlwind and twist things wrong side out as she went----she was a +tart!" + +But at length, toward the middle of autumn the end came. Luke had +business with some hog-buyers in Cincinnati, whither he was gone +several days. Meantime the railroad was completed, and Mr. Pearl came to +the Judge's early one morning and called for Hoiden. His business with +his employers was ended, and he had just finished an arrangement that +had long been on foot to go to one of the South American States and take +charge of a vast engineering scheme there. The girl was delighted. Such +a prospect of travel and adventure was enough to set one of her +temperament wild with enthusiasm. She flew to packing her trunk, her +face radiant with joy. + +Only an hour later Mr. Pearl and Hoiden stood at the new station on +Luke's land, waiting for the east-going train. Mr. Pearl happened to +think of a business message he wished to leave for Luke, so he went into +the depôt building and wrote it. When Hoiden saw the letter was for Luke +she begged leave to put in a few words of postscript, and she had her +way. + +The train came and the man and girl were whirled away to New York, and +thence they took ship for South America, never to return. + +Next day Luke came back, bringing with him a beautifully carved mahogany +box mounted in silver. Betsy met him at the door, and, woman-like, told +the story of Hoiden's departure almost at the first breath. + +"Gone all the way to South America," she added, after premising that she +would never return. + +A peculiarly grim, grayish smile mantled the face of Luke. He swallowed +a time or two before he could speak. + +"Come now, sis" (he always said "sis" when he felt somewhat at Betsy's +mercy), "come now, sis, don't try to fool me. I'm goin' right over to +see the gal now, an' I've got what'll tickle her awfully right here in +this 'ere box." + +Out in the yard the blue jays and woodpeckers were quarrelling over the +late apples heaped up by the cider mill. The sky was clear, but the +sunlight, coming through a smoky atmosphere, was pale, like the smile of +a sick man. The wind of autumn ran steadily through the shrubby weedy +lawn with a sigh that had in it the very essence of sadness. + +"I tell you, Luke, I'm not trying to fool you; they've gone clean to +South America to stay always," reiterated Betsy. + +Luke gazed for a moment steadily into his sister's eyes, as if looking +for a sign. Slowly his stalwart body and muscular limbs relaxed and +collapsed. The box fell to the floor with a crash, where it burst, +letting roll out great hoops of gold and starry rings and pins--a gold +watch and chain, a beautiful gold pen and pencil case, and trinkets and +gew-gaw things almost innumerable. They must have cost the full profits +of his business trip. + +Luke staggered into a chair. Betsy just then happened to think of the +letter that had been left for her brother. This she fetched and handed +to him. It was the note of business from Mr. Pearl. There was a +postscript in a different hand: + + "_Good-bye, Goosey!_ + _Hoidy Pearl._" + +That was all. Luke is more morose and petulant than he used to be. He is +decaying about apace with Rackenshack, and he smokes constantly. He is +vastly wealthy and unmarried. + +Betsy is quiet and kind. Up stairs in her chest is hidden the mahogany +coffer full of golden testimonials of her brother's days of happiness +and the one dark hour of his despair! + + + + +THE PEDAGOGUE. + + +He was one of the farmer princes of Hoosierdom, a man of more than +average education, a fluent talker and ready with a story. Knowing that +I was looking up reminiscences of Hoosier life and specimens of Hoosier +character, he volunteered one evening to give me the following, vouching +for the truth of it. Here it is, as I "short-handed" it from his own +lips. I omit quotation marks. + +The study of one's past life is not unlike the study of geology. If the +presence of the remains of extinct species of animals and vegetables in +the ancient rocks calls up in one's mind a host of speculative thoughts +touching the progress of creation, so, as we cut with the pick of +retrospection through the strata of bygone days, do the remains of +departed things, constantly turning up, put one into his studying cap to +puzzle over specimens fully as curious and interesting in their way as +the _cephalaspis_. + +The first stratum of my intellectual formation contains most +conspicuously the remains of dog-eared spelling books, a score or more +of them by different names, among which the _Elementary_ of Webster is +the best preserved and most clearly defined. It was finding an old, +yellow, badly thumbed and dirt soiled copy of Webster's spelling book in +the bottom of an old chest of odds and ends, on the fly-leaf of which +book was written "T. Blodgett," that lately brightened my memory of the +things I am about to tell you. + +The old time pedagogue is a thing of the past--_pars temporis acti_ is +the Latin of it, may be, but I'm not sure--I'm rusty in the Latin now. +When I quit school I could read it a good deal. But of the pedagogue. +The twenty years since he ceased to flourish seem, on reflection, like +an age--an _æon_, as the Greeks would say. I never did know much Greek. +I got most of my education from pedagogues of the old sort. They kept +pouring it on to me till it soaked in. That's the way I got it. I have +had corns and bunions on my back for not being sufficiently porous to +absorb the multiplication table rapidly enough to suit the whim of one +of those learned tyrants. But the pedagogue became extinct and passed +into the fossil state some twenty years ago, when free schools took +good hold. He scampered away when he heard the whistle of the steam +engine along iron highways and the cry of small boys on the streets of +the towns hawking the daily papers. He could live nowhere within the +pale of innovation. He was born an exemplar of rigidity. The very name +of reform was hateful to him. We older fellows remember him well, but to +the younger fry he is not even a fossil, he is a myth. Of course +pedagogues differed slightly in the matter of particular disposition and +real character, but in a _general way_ they had a close family +resemblance. + +I purpose to write of one Blodgett--T. Blodgett, as it was written in +the fly-leaf of Webster's Elementary--and he was an extraordinary +specimen of the genus pedagogue. But before I introduce him, let me, by +way of preface and prelude, give you a view of the salients of the +history of the days when pole-ribbed school houses--log cabin school +houses--flourished, with each a pedagogue for supreme, "unquestioned and +unquestionable" despot. + +In those fine days boys from five to fifteen years of age wore tow linen +pants held up by suspenders (often made of tow strings), and having at +each side pockets that reached down to about the wearer's knees. These +pockets held as much as a moderate sized bushel basket will now. The +girls, big and little, wore mere tow linen slips, that hung loose from +the shoulders. Democracy, pure and undefiled, flourished like a green +buckeye tree. Society was in about the same condition as a boy is when +his voice is changing. You know when a boy's voice is changing if you +hear him in another room getting his lesson by saying it over aloud, you +think there's about fourteen girls, two old men, and a dog barking in +the room. Society was much the same. The elements of everything were in +it, but not developed and separated yet. Women rode behind their +husbands on the same horse, occasionally reaching round in the man's lap +to feel if the baby was properly fixed. Sometimes the girls rode to +singing school behind their sweethearts. At such times the horses always +kicked up, and, of course, the girls had to hold on. The boys liked the +holding on part. Young men went courting always on Saturday night. The +girls wouldn't suffer any hugging before eleven o'clock--unless the old +folk were remarkably early to bed. Candles were scarce in those days, so +that billing and cooing was done by very dim fire-light. _O, le bon +temps!_ I've forgot whether that's Latin or French. + +The pedagogue was the intellectual and moral centre of the neighborhood. +He was of higher authority, even in the law, than the Justice of the +Peace. He was consulted on all subjects, and, as a rule, his decisions +were final, and went upon the people's record as law. His jurisdiction +was unlimited, as to subject matter or amount, and, as to the person, +was unquestioned. Of course his territory was bounded by the +circumstances of each particular case. + +I just now recollect quite a number of pedagogues who in turn ruled me +in my youthful days. Of one of them I never think without feeling a +strange sadness steal over me. He was a young fellow whom to know was to +love; pale, delicate, tender-hearted. He taught us two terms and we all +thought him the best teacher in the world. He was so kind to us, so +gentle and mild-voiced, so prone to pat us on our heads and encourage +us. Some of the old people found fault with him because, as they +alleged, he did not whip us enough, but we saw no force in the +objection. Well, he took a cough and began to fail. He dismissed us one +fine May evening and we saw him no more alive. We all followed him, in a +solemn line, to his grave, and for a long time thereafter we never spoke +of him except in a low, sad whisper. As for me, till long afterwards, +the hushed wonder of his white face haunted my dreams. I have now in my +possession a little bead money-purse he gave me. + +Blodgett came next, and here my story properly begins. Blodgett--who, +having once seen him, could ever forget Blodgett? Not I. He was too +marked a man to ever wholly fade from memory. He was, as I have said, a +perfect type of his kind, and his kind was such as should not be sneered +at. He was one of the humble pioneers of American letters. He was a +character of which our national history must take account. He was one of +the vital forces of our earlier national growth. He was in love with +learning. He considered the matter of imparting knowledge a mere +question of effort, in which the physical element preponderated. If he +couldn't talk or read it into one he took a stick and mauled it into +him. This mauling method, though somewhat distasteful to the subject, +always had a charming result--red eyes, a few blubbers and a good +lesson. The technical name of this method was "_Warming the Jacket_." +It always seemed to me that the peewee birds sang very dolefully after I +had had my jacket warmed. I recollect my floggings at school with so +much aversion that I do think, if a teacher should whale one of my +little ruddy-faced boys, I'd spread his (the teacher's) nose over his +face as thin as a rabbit skin! I'd run both his eyes into one and chew +his ears off close to his head, sir! Forgive my earnestness, but I can't +stand flogging in schools. It's brutal. + +From the first day that Blodgett came circulating his school "articles" +among us, we took to him by common consent as a wonderfully learned man. +I think his strong, wise looking face, and reserved, pompous manners, +had much to do with making this impression. We believed in him fully, +and for a long time gave him unfaltering loyalty. As for me, I never +have wholly withdrawn my allegiance. I look back, even now, and admire +him. I sigh, thinking of the merry days when he flourished. I solemnly +avow my faith in progress. I know the world advances every day, still I +doubt if men and women are more worthy now than they were in the time of +the pedagogues. I don't know but what, after all, I am somewhat of a +fogy. Any how, I will not, for the sake of pleasing your literary +_swallows_--your eclectics of to-day--turn in and berate my dear old +Blodgett. In his day men could not and did not skim the surface of +things like swallows on a mill pond. They _dived_, and got what they did +get from the bottom, and by honest labor. Whenever one of your +silk-winged swallows skims past me and whispers progress, I cannot help +thinking of Heyne, Jean Paul and--Blodgett. Somehow genius and poverty +are great cronies. It used to be more so than it is now. Blodgett was a +genius, and, consequently, poor. He was virtuous, and, of course, happy. +He was a Democrat and a Hard Shell Baptist, and he might never have +swerved from the path of rectitude, even to the extent of a hair's +breadth, if it had not been for the coming of a not over scrupulous +rival into the neighboring village. But I must not hasten. A little more +and I would have blurted out the whole nub of my story. Bear with me. I +have nothing of the "lightning calculator" in me. I must take my time. + +It has been agreed that biography must include somewhat of physical +portraiture. "What sort of looking man was Blodgett?" I will tell you as +nearly as I can, but bear in mind it is a long time since I saw him, +and, in the meanwhile, the world has been so washed, and combed, and +trimmed, and pearl powdered, that one can scarcely be sure he recollects +things rightly. The seedy dandy who teaches the free schools of to-day, +is, no doubt, all right as things go; but then the way they go--that's +it! As for finding some one of these dapper, umbrella-lugging, +green-spectacled, cadaverous teachers to compare with our burly +Blodgett, the thing is preposterous. + +Our pedagogue, when he first came among us, was, as nearly as I can +judge, about forty, and a bachelor, tall, raw-boned, lean-faced, and +muscular--a man of many words, and big ones, but not over prone to seek +audience of the world. To me, a boy of twelve, he appeared somewhat +awful, especially when plying the beech rod for the benefit of a future +man, and I do still think that something harder than mere sternness +slept or woke in and around the lines of his strong, flat jaws--that +something sharper than acid shrewdness lurked in his light gray eyes, +and that surely a more powerful expression than ordinary brute obstinacy +lingered about his firm mouth and smoothly shaven chin. + +Blodgett had a mighty body and a mighty will, joined with a +self-appreciation only bounded by his power to generate it. This, added +to the deep deference with which he was approached by everybody, made +him not a little arrogant and despotic--though, doubtless, he was less +so than most men, under like circumstances, would have been. His years +sat lightly on him. His step was youthful though slouching, his raven +hair was bright and wavy, his skin had the tinge of vigorous health, and +in truth he was not far from handsome. His voice was nasal, but +pleasantly so. + +I cannot hope to give you more than a faint idea of the absolute power +vested in Blodgett by the men, women and children of the school +vicinage; suffice it to say that his view was a _sine qua non_ to every +neighborhood opinion, his words the basis of neighborhood action in all +matters of public interest. If he pronounced the parson's last sermon a +failure, at once the entire church agreed in condemning it, not only as +a failure but a consummate blunder. If he hinted that a certain new +comer impressed him unfavorably, the nincompoop was summarily kicked out +of society. In fact, in the pithy phraseology of these latter days, "it +was dangerous to be safe" about where he lived. + +Thus, for a long time, Blodgett ruled with an iron hand his little +world, with no one to dream of disputing his right or of doubting his +capacity, till at length fate let fall a bit of romance into the strong +but placid stream of his life, and tinged it all with rose color. He +wrote some poetry, but it is obsolete--that is, it is not now in +existence. While this streak of romance lasted he looked, for all the +world, like a gilt-edged mathematical problem drawn on rawhide. + +It was a great event in our neighborhood when Miss Grace Holland, a +yellow-haired, blue-eyed, very handsome and well educated young lady +from Louisville, Kentucky, came to spend the summer with Parson Holland, +our preacher, and the young woman's uncle. Kentucky girls are all sweet. +My wife was a Kentucky girl. All the young men fell in love with Miss +Holland right away, but it was of no use to them. Blodgett, in the +language of your fast youngsters, "shied his castor into the ring," and +what was there left for the others but to stand by and see the glory of +the pedagogue during the season of his wooing? It would have done your +eyes good to see the pedagogue "slick himself up" each Saturday evening +preparatory to visiting the parson's. He went into the details of the +toilette with an enthusiasm worthy a better result. Ordinarily he was +ostentatiously pious and grave, but now his nature began to slip its +bark and disclose an inner rind of real mirthfulness, which made him +quite pleasant company for Miss Holland, who, though a mere girl, was +sensible and old enough to enjoy the many marked peculiarities of the +pedagogue. + +On Blodgett's side it was love--just the blindest, craziest kind of +love, at first sight. As to Miss Holland, I cannot say. One never can +precisely say as to a woman; guessing at a woman's feelings, in matters +of love, is a little like wondering which makes the music, a boy's mouth +or the jewsharp--a doubtful affair. + +Great events never come singly. When it rains it pours. If you have seen +a bear, every stump is a bear. A few days after the advent of Miss +Holland came a pop-eyed, nervous, witty little fellow with a hand press, +and started a weekly paper in our village. A newspaper in town! It was +startling. + +Blodgett from the first seemed not to relish the innovation, but public +sentiment had set in too strongly in its favor for him to jeopardize his +reputation by any serious denunciations. A real live paper in our midst +was no small matter. Everybody subscribed, and so did Blodgett. + +It did, formerly, require a little brains to run a newspaper, and in +those days an editor was looked upon as nearly or quite as learned and +intelligent as a pedagogue; but everybody, however ignorant himself, +could not fail to see that one represented progress, the other +conservatism, and formerly most persons were Ultra-Conservatives. This, +of course, gave the pedagogue a considerable advantage. + +Of course Blodgett and the editor soon became acquainted. The latter, a +dapper Yankee, full of "get-up-and-snap," and alert to make way for his +paper, measured the pedagogue at a glance, seeing at once that a big +bulk of strong sense and a will like iron were enwrapped in the stalwart +Hoosier's brain. One of two things must be done. Blodgett must be +vanquished or his influence secured. He must be prevailed on to endorse +the _Star_ (the new paper), or the _Star_ must attack and destroy him at +once. + +Meantime the pedagogue grimly waited for an opportunity to demolish the +editor. The big Hoosier had no thought of compromise or currying favor. +He would sacrifice the little sleek, stuck-up, big-headed, pop-eyed, +Roman-nosed Yankee between his thumb nails as he would a flea. Blodgett +was a predestinarian of the old school, and was firmly imbedded in the +belief that from all eternity it had been fore-ordained that he was to +attend to just such fellows as the editor. + +Still, the little lady from Louisville took up so much of his time, and +so distracted his mind, that no well laid plan of attack could be +matured by the pedagogue. But when nations wish to fight it is easy to +find a pretext for war. So with individuals. So with the editor and +Blodgett. They soon came to open hostilities and raised the black flag. +What an uproar it did make in the county! + +This war seemed to come about quite naturally. It had its beginning in a +debating society, where Blodgett and the editor were leading +antagonists. The question debated was, "Which has done more for the +cause of human liberty, Napoleon or Wellington?" + +Two village men and two countrymen were the jury to decide which side +offered the best argument. The jury was out all night and finally +returned a split verdict, two of them standing for Blodgett and two for +the editor. Of course it was town against country--the villagers for the +editor, the country folk for the pedagogue. + +"Huzza for the little editor!" cried the town people. + +"'Rah for Blodgett!" bawled the lusty country folk. + +The matter quickly came to blows at certain parts of the room. Jim +Dowder caught Phil Gates by the hair and snatched him over two seats. +Sarah Jane Beaver hit Martha Ann Randall in the mouth with a reticule +full of hazel nuts. Farmer Heath choked store-keeper Jones till his face +was as blue as moderate-like indigo. Old Mrs. Baber pulled off Granny +Logan's wig and threw it at 'Squire Hank. But Pete Develin wound the +thing up with a most disgraceful feat. He seized a bucket half full of +water and deliberately poured it right on top of the editor's head. + +This was the beginning of trouble and fun. Some lawsuits grew out of it +and some hard fisticuffs. All the country-folk sided with Blodgett--the +towns-folk with the editor. The _Star_ began to get dim, but the editor, +shrewd dog, when he saw how things were turning, at once took up the +question of Napoleon _vs._ Wellington in his journal, kindly and +condescendingly offering his columns to Blodgett for the discussion. + +The pedagogue foolishly accepted the challenge, and thus laid the +stones upon which he was to fall. So the antagonists sharpened their +goose quills and went at it. In sporting circles the proverb runs: never +bet on a man's own trick. Blodgett ought to have known better than to go +to the editor's own ground to fight. + +I have always suspected that Miss Holland did much to shear our Samson +of his strength. She certainly did, wittingly or unwittingly, occupy too +much of his time and thought. Poor fellow! he would have given his life +for her. He often looked at her, with his head turned a little one side, +sadly, thoughtfully, as I have seen a terrier look at a rat hole, as +though he half expected disappointment. + +The battle in the _Star_ began in very earnest. It was a harvest for the +shrewd journalist. Everybody took the _Star_ while the discussion was +going on. Everybody took sides, everybody got mad, and almost everybody +fought more or less. Even Parson Holland and the village preacher had +high words and ceased to recognize each other. As for the young lady +from Louisville, she had little to say about the discussion, though +Blodgett always read to her each one of his articles first in MS. and +then in the _Star_ after it was printed. + +Well, finally, in the very height of the war of words, the editor, in +one of his articles, indulged in Latin. As you are aware, when an editor +gets right down to pan-rock Latin, it's a sure sign he's after somebody. +This instance was no exception to the general rule. He was baiting for +the pedagogue. The pedagogue swallowed hook and all. + +"_Nil de mortuis nisi bonum_," said the editor, "is my motto, which may +be freely translated: 'If you can't say something good of the dead, keep +your tarnal mouth shut about them!'" + +Blodgett started as he read this, and for a full minute thereafter gazed +steadily and inquiringly on vacancy. At length his great bony right hand +opened slowly, then quickly shut like a vice. + +"I have him! I have him!" he muttered in a murderous tone, "I'll crush +him to impalpable dust!" He forthwith went for a small Latin lexicon and +began busily searching its pages. It was Saturday evening, and so busily +did he labor at what was on his mind, he came near forgetting his +regular weekly visit to Miss Holland. + +He did not forget it, however. He went; without pointing out to her the +exact spot so vulnerable to his logical arrows, he told her in a +confidential and confident way that his next letter would certainly make +an end of the editor. He told her that, at last, he had the shallow +puppy where he could expose him thoroughly. Of course Miss Holland was +curious to know more, but, with a grim smile, Blodgett shook his head, +saying that to insure utter victory he must keep his own counsel. + +The next day, though the Sabbath, was spent by the pedagogue writing his +crusher for the _Star_. He wrote it and re-wrote it, over and over +again. He almost ruined a Latin grammar and the afore-mentioned lexicon. +He worked till far in the night, revising and elaborating. His gray eyes +burned like live coals--his jaws were set for victory. + +That week was one of intense excitement all over the county, for somehow +it had come generally to be understood that the pedagogue's forthcoming +essay was to completely defeat and disgrace the editor. Work, for the +time, was mostly suspended. The school children did about as they +pleased, so that they were careful not to break rudely in upon +Blodgett's meditations. + +On the day of its issue the _Star_ was in great demand. For several +hours the office was crowded with eager subscribers, hungry for a copy. +The 'Squire and two constables had some trouble to keep down a genuine +riot. + +The following is an exact copy of Blodgett's great essay: + + MR. EDITOR--SIR: This, for two reasons, is my last article for + your journal. Firstly: My time and the exigencies of my + profession will not permit me to further pursue a discussion + which, on your part, has degenerated into the merest twaddle. + Secondly: It only needs, at my hands, an exposition of the + false and fraudulent claims you make to classical attainments, + to entirely annihilate your unsubstantial and wholly undeserved + popularity in this community, and to send you back to peddling + your bass wood hams and maple nutmegs. In order to put on a + false show of erudition, you lug into your last article a + familiar Latin sentence. Now, sir, if you had sensibly foregone + any attempt at translation, you might, possibly, have made some + one think you knew a shade more than a horse; but "whom the + gods would destroy they first make mad." + + You say, "_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_" may be freely + translated, "If you can't say something good of the dead, keep + your tarnal mouth shut about them!" Shades of Horace and + Praxiteles! What would Pindar or Cæsar say? But I will not + jest at the expense of sound scholarship. In conclusion, I + simply submit the following _literal translation_ of the Latin + sentence in question: "_De_--of, _mortuis_--the dead, + _nil_--nothing, _nisi_--but, _bonum_--goods," so that the whole + quotation may be rendered as follows--"Nothing (is left) of the + dead but (their) goods." This is strictly according to the + dictionary. Here, so far as I am concerned, this discussion + ends. + + Your ob't serv't, + T. BLODGETT. + +The country flared into flames of triumph. Blodgett's friends stormed +the village and "_bully-ragged_" everybody who had stood out for the +editor. The little Yankee, however, did not appear in the least +disconcerted. His clear, blue, pop-eyes really seemed twinkling with +half suppressed joy. Blodgett put a copy of the _Star_ into his pocket +and stalked proudly, victoriously, out of town. + +After supper he dressed himself with scrupulous care and went over to +see Miss Holland. Rumor said they were engaged to be married, and I +believe they were. + +On this particular evening the young lady was enchantingly pretty, +dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, her bright yellow hair flowing +full and free down upon her plump shoulders, her face radiant with +health and high spirits. She met the pedagogue at the door with more +than usual warmth of welcome. He kissed her hand. All that he said to +her that evening will never be known. It is recorded, however, that, +when he had finished reading his essay to her, she got up and took from +her travelling trunk a "Book of Foreign Phrases," and examined it +attentively for a time, after which she was somewhat uneasy and +reticent. Blodgett observed this, but he was too dignified to ask an +explanation. + +The "last day" of Blodgett's school was at hand. The "exhibition" came +off on Saturday. Everybody went early. The pedagogue was in his glory. +He did not know the end was so near. A little occurrence, toward +evening, however, seemed to foreshadow it. + +Blodgett called upon the stage a bright eyed, ruddy faced lad, his +favorite pupil, to translate Latin phrases. The boy, in his Sunday best, +and sleekly combed, came forth and bowed to the audience, his eyes +luminous with vivacity. The little fellow was evidently precocious--a +rapid if not a very accurate thinker--one of those children who always +have an answer ready, right or wrong. + +After several preliminary questions, very promptly and satisfactorily +disposed of, Blodgett said: + +"Now, sir, translate _Monstrum horrendum informe ingens_." + +Quick as lightning the child replied: + +"The horrid monster informed the Indians!" + +Fury! The face of the pedagogue grew livid. He stretched forth his hand +and took the boy by the back of the neck. The curtain fell, but the +audience could not help hearing what a flogging the boy got. It was +terrible. + +Even while this was going on a rumor rippled round the outskirts of the +audience--for you must know that the "exhibition" was held under a bush +arbor erected in front of the school house door--a rumor, I say, rippled +round the outer fringe of the audience. Some one had arrived from the +village and copies of the _Star_ were being freely distributed. Looks of +blank amazement flashed into people's faces. The name of the editor and +that of Prof. W----, of Wabash College, began to fly in sharp whispers +from mouth to mouth. The crowd reeled and swayed. Men began to talk +aloud. Finally everybody got on his feet and confusion and hubbub +reigned supreme. The exhibition was broken up. Blodgett came out of the +school house upon the stage when he heard the noise. He gazed around. +Some one thrust a copy of the _Star_ into his hand. + +Poor Blodgett! We may all fall. The crowd resolved itself into an +indignation meeting then and there, at which the following extract from +the _Star_ was read, followed by resolutions dismissing and disgracing +Blodgett: + + "The following letter is rich reading for those who have so + long sworn by T. Blodgett. We offer no comment: + + "EDITOR OF THE STAR--DEAR SIR: In answer to your letter + requesting me to decide between yourself and Mr. Blodgett as to + the correct English rendering of the Latin sentence '_De + mortuis nil nisi bonum_,' allow me to say that your free + translation is a good one, if not very literal or elegant. As + to Mr. Blodgett's, if the man is sincere, he is certainly crazy + or wofully illiterate; no doubt the latter. + + "Very respectfully, + "W----, + "_Prof. Languages, Wabash College._" + +Blodgett walked away from the school house into the dusky June woods. He +knew that it was useless to contend against the dictum of a college +professor. His friends knew so too, so they turned to rend him. He was +dethroned and discrowned forever. He was boarding at my father's then, +and I can never forget the haggard, wistful look his face wore when he +came in that evening. I have since learned that he went straight from +the scene of his disgrace to Miss Holland, whom he found inclined to +laugh at him. The next week he collected what was due him and left for +parts unknown. + +I was over at parson Holland's, playing with his boys. + +The game was mumble peg. + +I had been rooting a peg out of the ground and my face was very dirty. +We were under a cherry tree by a private hedge. Presently Miss Holland +came out and began, girl-like, to pluck and eat the half ripe cherries. +The wind rustled her white dress and lifted the gold floss of her +wonderful hair. The birds chattered and sang all round us; the white +clouds lingered overhead like puffs of steam vanishing against the +splendid blue of the sky. The fragrance of leaf and fruit and bloom was +heavy on the air. The girl in white, the quiet glory of the day, the +murmur of the unsteady wind stream flowing among the dark leaves of the +orchard and hedge, the charm of the temperature, and over all, the +delicious sound of running water from the brook hard by, all +harmonized, and in a tender childish mood I quit the game and lolled at +full length on the ground, watching the fascinating face of the young +lady as she drifted about the pleasant places of the orchard. Suddenly I +saw her fix her eyes in a surprised way in a certain direction. I looked +to see what had startled her, and there, half leaning over the hedge, +stood Blodgett. + +His face was ghastly in its pallor, and deep furrows ran down his jaws. +His gray eyes had in them a look of longing blended with a sort of stern +despair. It was only for a moment that his powerful frame toppled above +the hedge, but he is indelibly pictured in my memory just as he then +appeared. + +"Good-bye, Miss Holland, good-bye." + +How dismally hollow his voice sounded! Ah! it was pitiful. I neither saw +nor heard of him after that. Years have passed since then. Blodgett is, +likely, in his grave, but I never think of him without a sigh. + +Yesterday I was in the old neighborhood, and, to my surprise, learned +that the old log school house was still standing. So I set out alone to +visit it. I found it rotten and shaky, serving as a sort of barn in +which a farmer stows his oats, straw and corn fodder. The genius of +learning has long since flown to finer quarters. The great old chimney +had been torn down or had fallen, the broad boards of the roof, held on +by weight poles, were deeply covered with moss and mould, and over the +whole edifice hung a gloom--a mist of decay. + +I leaned upon a worm fence hard by and gazed through the long vacant +side window, underneath which our writing shelf used to be, sorrowfully +dallying with memory; not altogether sorrowfully either, for the glad +faces of children that used to romp with me on the old play ground +floated across my memory, clothed in the charming haze of distance, and +encircled by the halo of tender affections. The wind sang as of old, and +the bird songs had not changed a jot. Slowly my whole being crept back +to the past. The wonders of our progress were all forgotten. And then +from within the old school room came a well remembered voice, with a +certain nasal twang, repeating slowly and sternly the words: + +"_Arma virumque cano_;" then there came a chime of silver tones--"School +is out!--School is out!" And I started, to find that I was all alone by +the rotting but blessed old throne and palace of the pedagogue. + + + + +AN IDYL OF THE ROD. + + +It was as pretty a country cottage as is to be found, even now, in all +the Wabash Valley, situated on a prominent bluff, overlooking the broad +stretches of bottom land, and giving a fine view of the wide winding +river. The windows and doors of this cottage were draped in vines, among +which the morning glory and the honeysuckle were the most luxuriant; +while on each side of the gravelled walk, that led from the front +portico to the dooryard gate, grew clusters of pinks, sweet-williams and +larkspurs. The house was painted white, and had green window +shutters--old fashioned, to be sure, but cosy, homelike and tasty +withal. Everything pertaining to and surrounding the place had an air of +methodical neatness, that betokened great care and scrupulous order on +the part of the inmates. + +About the hour of six on a Monday morning, in the month of May, a fine, +hearty, intelligent looking lad of twelve years walked slowly up the +path which led from the old orchard to the house. He was dressed in +loose trowsers of bottle green jeans, a jacket of the same, heavy boots +and a well worn wool hat. The boy's shoulders stooped a little, and a +slight hump discovered itself at the upper portion of his back. His face +was strikingly handsome, being fair, bright, healthful, and marked with +signs of great precocity of intellect, albeit it wore just now an +indescribable, faintly visible shade, as of innocent perplexity, or, +possibly, grief. His mind was evidently not at ease, but the varying +shadows that chased each other across the mild depths of his clear, +vivacious eyes would have stumped a physiognomist. Between a laugh and a +cry, but more like a cry; between defiance and utter shame, but more +like the latter; his cheeks and lips took on every shade of pallor and +of flush. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved along, and cast rapid +glances in every direction, as if afraid of being seen. "Whippoo-tee, +tippoo-tee-tee-e!" sang a great cardinal red bird in the apple tree over +his head. He flung a stone at the bird with terrible energy, but missed +it. + +The mistress of the cottage was at this time in the kitchen preparing +for the week's washing, for do not all good Hoosier housewives wash on +Monday? She was a middle aged, stoutly built, healthy matron, sandy +haired, slightly freckled, blue eyed and quick in her movements. Usually +smiling and happy, it was painful to see how she struggled now to master +the emotions of great grief and sadness that constantly arose in her +bosom, like spectres that would not be driven away. + +A bright eyed, golden haired lass of sixteen was in the breakfast room +washing the dishes and singing occasional snatches from a mournful +ditty. It was sad, indeed, to see a cloud of sorrow on a face so fresh +and sweet. + +Mr. Coulter, the head of the family, and owner of the cottage and its +lands, stood near the centre of the sitting room with his hands crossed +behind him, gazing fixedly and sadly on the picture of a sweet child +holding a white kitten in its lap, which picture hung on the wall over +against the broad fire-place. A look of sorrow betrayed itself even in +the dark, stern visage of the man. He drew down his shaggy eyebrows and +occasionally pulled his grizzled moustache into his mouth and chewed it +fiercely. Evidently he was chafing under his grief. + +The cottage windows were wide open, as is the western custom in fine +weather, and the fragrance of spice wood and sassafras floated in on the +flood tide of pleasant air, while from the big old locust tree down by +the fence fell the twittering prelude to a finch's song. A green line of +willows and a thin, pendulous stratum of fog marked the way of the +river, plainly visible from the west window, and through the white haze +flocks of teal and wood ducks cut swiftly in their downward flight to +the water. A golden flicker sang and hammered on the gate-post the while +he eyed a sparrow-hawk that wheeled and screamed high over head. The dew +was like little mirrors in the grass. + +The lad entered the kitchen and said to his mother, in a voice full of +tenderness, though barely audible: + +"Mammy, where's pap?" + +"In the front room, Billy," replied the matron solemnly, quaveringly. + +Passing into the breakfast room, Billy looked at his sister and a flash +of sympathetic sorrow played back and forth from the eyes of one to +those of the other; then he went straight into the sitting room and +handed something to Mr. Coulter. It was a moment of silence and +suspense. Out in the orchard the cherry and apple blooms were falling +like pink and white snow. + +The man looked down at his boy sadly, sorrowfully, regretfully. He drew +his face into a stern frown. The lad looked up into his father's eyes +timidly, ruefully, strangely. It was a living tableau no artist could +reproduce. It was the moment before a crisis. + +"Billy," said the father gravely, "I took your mother and sister to +church yesterday." + +"Yes, sir," said Billy. + +"And left you to see to things," continued the man. + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy, gazing through the window at the flicker as +it hitched down the gate-post and finally dropped into the grass with a +shrill chirp. + +"And you didn't water them pigs!" + +"O-o-o! Oh, sir! Geeroody! O me! ouch! lawsy! lawsy! mercy me!" + +The slender scion of an apple tree, in the hand of Mr. Coulter, rose and +fell, cutting the air like a rapier, and up from the jacket of the lad, +like incense from an altar, rose a cloud of dust mingled with the nap of +jeans. Down in the young clover of the meadow the larks and sparrows +sang cheerily; the gnats and flies danced up and down in the sunshine, +the fresh soft young leaves of the vines rustled like satin, and all +was merry indeed! + +Billy's eyes were turned upward to the face of his father in appealing +agony; but still the switch, with a sharp hiss, cut the air, falling +steadily and mercilessly on his shoulders. + +All along the green banks of the river the willows shook their shining +fingers at the lifting fog, and the voices of children going by to the +distant school smote the sweet May wind. + +"Whippee! Whippee-tippee-tee!" sang the cardinal bird. + +"O pap! ouch! O-o-o! I'll not forget to water the pigs no more!" + +"S'pect you won't, neither!" said the man. + +The wind, by a sudden puff, lifted into the room a shower of white bloom +petals from a sweet apple tree, letting them fall gracefully upon the +patchwork carpet, the while a ploughman whistled plaintively in a +distant field. + +"Crackee! O pap! ouch! O-o-o! You're a killin' me!" + +"Shet your mouth 'r I'll split ye to the backbone in a second! Show ye +how to run off fishin' with Ed Jones and neglect them pigs! Take every +striffin of hide off'n ye!" + +How many delightful places in the woods, how many cool spots beside the +murmuring river, would have been more pleasant to Billy than the place +he just then occupied! He would have swapped hides with the very pigs he +had forgot to water. + +"O, land! O, me! Geeroody me!" yelled the lad. + +"Them poor pigs!" rejoined the father. + +Still the dust rose and danced in the level jet of sunlight that fell +athwart the room from the east window, and the hens out at the barn +cackled and sang for joy over new laid eggs stowed away in cosy places. + +At one time during the falling of the rod the girl quit washing the +dishes, and thrusting her head into the kitchen said, in a subdued tone: + +"My land! Mammy, ain't Bill a gittin' an awful one this load o' poles?" + +"You're moughty right!" responded the matron, solemnly. + +Along toward the last Mr. Coulter tip-toed at every stroke. The switch +actually screamed through the air. Billy danced and bawled and made all +manner of serio-comic faces and contortions. + +"Now go, sir," cried the man, finally tossing the frizzled stump of the +switch out through the window. "Go now, and next time I'll be bound you +water them pigs!" + +And, while the finch poured a cataract of melody from the locust tree, +Billy went. + +Poor boy! that was a terrible thrashing, and to make it worse, it had +been promised to him on the evening before, so that he had been dreading +it and shivering over it all night! + +Now, as he walked through the breakfast room, his sister looked at him +in a commiserating way, but on passing through the kitchen he could not +catch the eye of his mother. + +Finally he stood in the free open air in front of the saddle closet. It +was just then that a speckled rooster on the barn yard fence flapped his +wings and crowed lustily. A turkey cock was strutting on the grass by +the old cherry tree. + +Billy opened the door of the closet. "A boy's will is the wind's will, +and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Billy peeped into +the saddle closet and then cast a glance around him, as if to see if any +one was near. + +At length, during a pleasant lull in the morning wind, and while the +low, tenderly mellow flowing of the river was distinctly audible, and +the song of the finch increased in volume, and the bleating of new born +lambs in the meadow died in fluttering echoes under the barn, and while +the fragrance of apple blooms grew fainter, and while the sun, now +flaming just a little above the eastern horizon, launched a shower of +yellow splendors over him from head to foot, he took from under his +jacket behind a doubled sheep skin with the wool on, which, with an +ineffable smile, he tossed into the closet. Then, as the yellow flicker +rose rapidly from the grass, Billy walked off, whistling the air of that +once popular ballad-- + + "O give me back my fifteen cents, + And give me back my money," &c. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + + Passages in italics or underlined are indicated by _italics_. + + Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from + the original. + + Punctuation has been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Mosaics, by Maurice Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + +***** This file should be named 36148-8.txt or 36148-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/4/36148/ + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hoosier Mosaics + +Author: Maurice Thompson + +Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36148] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="big">Affectionately to my Father,</span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">The Reverend GRIGG THOMPSON.</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="giant"><span class="smcap">Hoosier Mosaics.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">By MAURICE THOMPSON.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">NEW YORK:</p> +<p class="center">E. J. HALE & SON, PUBLISHERS,</p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Murray Street</span>.</p> +<p class="center">1875.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span><br/> +E. J. HALE & SON,<br/> +In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> + +<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE.</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><span class="u">Was She a Boy</span>?</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Trout's Luck</span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><span class="u">Big Medicine</span></span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><span class="u">The Venus of Balhinch</span></span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Legend of Potato Creek</span>, </td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><span class="u">Stealing a Conductor</span></span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Hoiden</span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Pedagogue</span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">An Idyl of the Rod</span>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">Was She a Boy?</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>No matter what business or what pleasure took me, I once, not long ago, +went to Colfax. Whisper it not to each other that I was seeking a +foreign appointment through the influence of my fellow Hoosier, the late +Vice-President of the United States. O no, I didn't go to the Hon. +Schuyler Colfax at all; but I went to Colfax, simply, which is a little +dingy town, in Clinton County, that was formerly called Midway, because +it is half way between Lafayette and Indianapolis. It was and is a place +of some three hundred inhabitants, eking out an aguish subsistence, +maintaining a swampy, malarious aspect, keeping up a bilious, nay, an +atra-bilious color, the year round, by sucking like an attenuated leech +at the junction, or, rather, the crossing of the I. C. & L., and the L. +C. & S. W. railroads. It lay mouldering, like something lost and +forgotten, slowly rotting in the swamp.</p> + +<p>I do not mean to attack the inhabitants of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>Colfax, for they were good +people, and deserved a better fate than the eternal rattling the ague +took them through from year's end to year's end. Why, they had had the +ague so long that they had no respect for it at all. I've seen a woman +in Colfax shaking with a chill, spanking a baby that had a chill, and +scolding a husband who had a chill, all at once—and I had a dreadful +ague on me at the same time! But, as I have said, they were good people, +and I suppose they are still. They go quietly about the usual business +of dead towns. They have "stores" in which they offer for sale calico, +of the big-figured, orange and red sort, surprisingly cheap. They smoke +those little Cuba sixes at a half cent apiece, and call them cigars; +they hang round the dépôt, and trade jack-knives and lottery watches on +the afternoons of lazy Sundays; they make harmless sport of the incoming +and outgoing country folk; and, in a word, keep pretty busy at one thing +or another, and above all—they shake.</p> + +<p>In Colfax the chief sources of exciting amusement are dog fights and an +occasional row at Sheehan's saloon, a doggery of the regular +old-fashioned, drink, gamble, rob and fight sort—a low place, known to +all the hard bats in the State.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>As you pass through the town you will not fail to notice a big sign, +outhanging from the front of the largest building on the principal +street, which reads: "Union Hotel, 1865." From the muddy suburbs of the +place, in every direction, stretch black muck swamps, for the most part +heavily timbered with a variety of oaks, interspersed with sycamores, +ash, and elms. In the damp, shady labyrinths of these boggy woods +millions of lively, wide awake, tuneful mosquitoes are daily +manufactured; and out from decaying logs and piles of fermenting leaves, +from the green pools and sluggish ditch streams, creeps a noxious gas, +known in that region as the "double refined, high pressure, forty hoss +power quintessential of the ager!" So, at least, I was told by the +landlord of the Union Hotel, and his skin had the color of one who knew.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding what I have said, Colfax, in summer, is not wholly +without attractions of a certain kind. It has some yellow dogs and some +brindle ones; it has some cattle and some swine; it has some swallows +and some spotted pigeons; it has cool, fresh smelling winds, and, after +the water has sufficiently dried out, the woods are really glorious +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> wild roses, violets, turkey-pea blossoms, and wild pinks. But to +my story.</p> + +<p>I was sitting on the long veranda of the Union Hotel, when a rough but +kindly voice said to me:</p> + +<p>"Mornin', stranger; gi' me a light, will ye?"</p> + +<p>I looked up from the miserable dime novel at which I had been tugging +for the last hour, and saw before me a corpulent man of, perhaps, +forty-five years of age, who stood quite ready to thrust the charred end +of a cigar stump into the bowl of my meerschaum. I gave him a match, and +would fain have returned to Angelina St. Fortescue, the heroine of the +novel, whom I had left standing on the extreme giddy verge of a sheer +Alpine precipice, known, by actual triangulation, to be just seven +thousand feet high, swearing she would leap off if Donald Gougerizeout, +the robber, persisted further in his rough addresses; but my new friend, +the corpulent smoker, seemed bent on a little bit of conversation.</p> + +<p>"Thankee, sir. Fine mornin', sir, a'n't it?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful," I replied, raising my head, elevating my arms, and, by a +kind of yawn, taking in a deep draught of the fresh spring weather, +absorbing it, assimilating it, till, like a wave of retarded +electricity, it set my nerves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> in tune for enjoying the bird songs, and +filled my blood with the ecstasy of vigorous health and youth. I, no +doubt, just then felt the burden of life much less than did the big +yellow dog at my feet, who snapped lazily at the flies.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, this 'ere's a fine mornin'—julicious, sir, julicious, +indeed; but le' me tell ye, sir, this 'ere wind's mighty deceitful—for +a fact it is, sir, jist as full of ager as a acorn is of meat. It's +blowin' right off'n ponds, and is loaded chock down with the miasm—for +a fact it is, sir."</p> + +<p>While delivering this speech, the fat man sat down on the bench beside +me there in the veranda. By this time I had my thumbs in the arm holes +of my vest, and my chest expanded to its utmost—my lungs going like a +steam bellows, which is a way I have in fine weather.</p> + +<p>"Monstrous set o' respiratory organs, them o' your'n," he said, eyeing +my manœuvres. Just then I discovered that he was a physician of the +steam doctor sort, for, glancing down at my feet, I espied his well worn +leather medicine bags. I immediately grew polite. Possibly I might ere +long need some quinine, or mandrake, or a hot steam bath—anything for +the ague!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>"Yes, I've got lungs like a porpoise," I replied, "but still the ague +may get me. Much sickness about here, Doctor——a——a——what do they +call your name?"</p> + +<p>"Benjamin Hurd—Doctor Hurd, they call me. I'm the only thorer bred +botanic that's in these parts. I do poorty much all the practice about +here. Yes, there's considerable of ager and phthisic and bilious fever. +Keeps me busy most of my time. These nasty swamps, you know."</p> + +<p>After a time our conversation flagged, and the doctor having lit a fresh +cigar, we smoked in silence. The wind was driving the dust along the +street in heavy waves, and I sat watching a couple of lean, spotted +calves making their way against the tide. They held their heads low and +shut their eyes, now and then bawling vigorously. Some one up stairs was +playing "Days of Absence" on a wretched wheezing accordeon.</p> + +<p>"There's a case of asthma, doctor," I said, intending to be witty. But +my remark was not noticed. The doctor was in a brown study, from which +my words had not startled him. Presently he said, as if talking to +himself, and without taking the cigar from his mouth:</p> + +<p>"'Twas just a year ago to-night, the 28th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> day of May, 'at they took 'er +away. And he'll die afore day to a dead certainty. Beats all the denied +queer things I ever seed or heerd of."</p> + +<p>He was poking with the toe of his boot in the dust on the veranda floor, +as he spoke, and stealing a glance at his face, I saw that it wore an +abstracted, dreamy, perplexed look.</p> + +<p>"What was your remark, doctor?" I asked, more to arouse him than from +any hope of being interested.</p> + +<p>"Hum!—ah, yes," he said, starting, and beginning a vigorous puffing. +"Ah, yes, I was cogitatin' over this matter o' Berry Young's. Never have +been able to 'count for that, no how. Think about it more an' more every +day. What's your theory of it?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say, never having heard anything of it," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do say! Thought everybody had hearn of that, any how! It's a +rale romance, a reg'lar mystery, sir. It's been talked about, and writ +about in the papers so much 'at I s'posed 'at it was knowed of far and +wide."</p> + +<p>"I've been in California for several years past," I replied, by way of +excuse for my ignorance of even the vaguest outline of the affair, +whatever it might be.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>"Well, you see, a leetle more'n a year ago a gal an' her father come +here and stopped at this 'ere very hotel. The man must 'a' been som'res +near sixty years old; but the gal was young, and jist the poortiest +thing I ever seed in all my life. I couldn't describe how she looked at +all; but everybody 'at saw her said she was the beautifulest creatur +they ever laid eyes onto. Where these two folks come from nobody ever +knowed, but they seemed like mighty nice sort of persons, and everybody +liked 'em, 'specially the gal. Somehow, from the very start, a kind of +mystery hung 'round 'em. They seemed always to have gobs o' money, and +onct in awhile some little thing'd turn up to make folks kinder juberous +somehow 'at they wasn't jist what they ginerally seemed to be. But that +gal was fascinatin' as a snake, and as poorty as any picter. Her flesh +looked like tinted wax mixed with moon-shine, and her eyes was as clear +as a lime-stone spring—though they was dark as night. She was that full +of restless animal life 'at she couldn't set still—she roamed round +like a leopard in a cage, and she'd romp equal to a ten-year-old boy. +Well, as mought be expected, sich a gal as that 'ere 'd 'tract attention +in these parts, and I must say 'at the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> fellows here did git +'bominable sweet on her. 'Casionally two of 'em 'd git out in the swamps +and have a awful fight on her 'count; but she 'peared to pay precious +little 'tention to any of 'em till finally Berry Young stepped in and +jist went for 'er like mad, and she took to 'm. Berry was r'ally the +nicest and intelligentest young man in all this country. He writ poetry +for the papers, sir—snatchin' good poetry, too—and had got to be +talked of a right smart for his larnin', an' 'complishments. He was good +lookin', too; powerful handsome, for a fact, sir. So they was to be +married, Berry and the gal, an' the time it was sot, an' the day it +come, an' all was ready, an' the young folks was on the floor, and the +'squire was jist a commencin' to say the ceremony, when lo! and +beholden, four big, awful, rough lookin' men rushed in with big pistols +and mighty terrible bowie knives, and big papers and big seals, and said +they was a sheriff and possum from Kaintucky. They jist jumped right +onto the gal an' her father an' han'cuffed 'em, an' took 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Handcuffed them and took them!" I repeated, suddenly growing intensely +interested. This was beating my dime novel, for sensation, all hollow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>"Yes, sir, han'cuffed 'em an' took 'em, an' away they went, an' they've +not been hearn of since to this day. But the mysteriousest thing about +the whole business was that when the sheriff grabbed the gal he called +her George, and said she wasn't no gal at all, but jist a terrible onery +boy 'at had been stealin' an' counterfeitin' an' robbin' all round +everywhere. What d'ye think of that?"</p> + +<p>"A remarkably strange affair, certainly," I replied; "and do you say +that the father and the girl have not since been heard from?"</p> + +<p>"Never a breath. The thing got into all the newspapers and raised a +awful rumpus, and it turned out that it wasn't no sheriff 'at come +there; but some dark, mysterious kidnappin' transaction 'at nobody could +account for. Detectives was put on their track an' follered 'em to Injun +territory an' there lost 'em. Some big robberies was connected with the +affair, but folks could never git head nor tail of the partic'lers."</p> + +<p>"And it wasn't a real sheriff's arrest, then?" said I.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, 'twas jist a mystery. Some kind of a dodge of a band of +desperadoes to avoid the law some way. The papers tried to explain it, +but I never could see any sense to it. 'Twas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> a clean, dead mystery. But +I was goin' on to tell ye 'at Berry Young took it awful hard 'bout the +gal, an' he's been sort o' sinkin' away ever sence, an' now he's jist +ready to wink out. Yonder's where Berry lives, in that 'ere white +cottage house with the vines round the winder. He's desp'rit sick—a +sort o' consumption. I'm goin' to see 'im now; good mornin' to ye."</p> + +<p>Thus abruptly ending our interview, the doctor took up his medicine bag +and went his way. He left me in a really excited state of mind; the +story of itself was so strange, and the narrator had told it so solemnly +and graphically. I suppose, too, that I must have been in just the +proper state of mind for that rough outline, that cartoon of a most +startling and mysterious affair, to become deeply impressed in my mind, +perhaps, in the most fascinating and fantastic light possible. A thirst +to know more of the story took strong hold on my mind, as if I had been +reading a tantalizing romance and had found the leaves torn out just +where the mystery was to be explained. I half closed my eyes to better +keep in the lines and shades of the strange picture. Its influence lay +upon me like a spell. I enjoyed it. It was a luxury.</p> + +<p>The wings of the morning wind fanned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> heat into broken waves, rising +and sinking, and flowing on, with murmur and flash and glimmer, to the +cool green ways of the woods, and, like the wind, my fancy went out +among golden fleece clouds and into shady places, following the thread +of this new romance. I cannot give a sufficient reason why the story +took so fast a hold on me. But it did grip my mind and master it. It +appeared to me the most intensely strange affair I had ever heard of.</p> + +<p>While I sat there, lost in reflection, with my eyes bent on a very +unpromising pig, that wallowed in the damp earth by the town pump, the +landlord of the hotel came out and took a seat beside me. I gave him a +pipe of my tobacco and forthwith began plying him with questions +touching the affair of which the doctor had spoken. He confirmed the +story, and added to its mystery by going minutely into its details. He +gave the names of the father and daughter as Charles Afton and Ollie +Afton.</p> + +<p>Ollie Afton! Certainly no name sounds sweeter! How is it that these +gifted, mysteriously beautiful persons always have musical names!</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the landlord, "you'd ort to have seen that boy!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>"Boy!" I echoed.</p> + +<p>"Well, gal or boy, one or t'other, the wonderfulest human bein' I ever +see in all the days o' my life! Lips as red as ripe cur'n's, and for +ever smilin'. Such smiles—oonkoo! they hurt a feller all over, they was +so sweet. She was tall an' dark, an' had black hair that curled short +all 'round her head. Her skin was wonderful clear and so was her eyes. +But it was the way she looked at you that got you. Ah, sir, she had a +power in them eyes, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>The pig got up from his muddy place by the pump, grunted, as if +satisfied, and slowly strolled off; a country lad drove past, riding +astride the hounds of a wagon; a pigeon lit on the comb of the roof of +Sheehan's saloon, which was just across the street, and began pluming +itself. Just then the landlord's little sharp-nosed, weasel-eyed boy +came out and said, in a very subdued tone of voice:</p> + +<p>"Pap, mam says 'at if you don't kill 'er that 'ere chicken for dinner +you kin go widout any fing to eat all she cares."</p> + +<p>The landlord's spouse was a red-headed woman, so he got up very suddenly +and took himself into the house. But before he got out of hearing the +little boy remarked:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>"Pap, I speaks for the gizzard of that 'ere chicken, d'ye hear, now?"</p> + +<p>I sat there till the dinner hour, watching the soft pink and white +vapors that rolled round the verge of the horizon. I was thoroughly +saturated with romance. Strange, that here, in this dingy little +out-of-the-way village, should have transpired one of the most wonderful +mysteries history may ever hold!</p> + +<p>At dinner the landlord talked volubly of the Afton affair, giving it as +his opinion that the Aftons were persons tinged with negro blood, and +had been kidnapped into slavery.</p> + +<p>"They was jist as white, an' whiter, too, than I am," he went on, "but +them Southerners'd jist as soon sell one person as 'nother, anyhow."</p> + +<p>I noticed particularly that the little boy got his choice bit of the +fowl. He turned his head one side and ate like a cat.</p> + +<p>When the meal was over I was again joined by Doctor Hurd on the +verandah. He reported Berry Young still alive, but not able to live till +midnight. I noticed that the doctor was nervous and kept his eyes fixed +on Sheehan's saloon.</p> + +<p>"Stranger," said he, leaning over close to me, and speaking in a low, +guarded way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> "things is workin' dasted curious 'bout now—sure's gun's +iron they jist is!"</p> + +<p>"Where—how—in what way, doctor?" I stammered, taken aback by his +behavior.</p> + +<p>"Sumpum's up, as sure as Ned!" he replied, wagging his head.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," I said, petulantly, "if you would be a trifle more explicit I +could probably guess, with some show of certainty, at what you mean!"</p> + +<p>"Can't ye hear? Are ye deaf? Did ye ever, in all yer born days, hear a +voice like that ere 'un? Listen!"</p> + +<p>Sure enough, a voice of thrilling power, a rich, heavy, quavering alto, +accompanied by some one thrumming on a guitar, trickled and gurgled, and +poured through the open window of Sheehan's saloon. The song was a wild, +drinking carol, full of rough, reckless wit, but I listened, entranced, +till it was done.</p> + +<p>"There now, say, what d'ye think o' that? Ain't things a workin' round +awful curious, as I said?"</p> + +<p>Delivering himself thus, the doctor got up and walked off.</p> + +<p>When I again had an opportunity to speak to the landlord, I asked him if +Doctor Hurd was not thought to be slightly demented.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>"What! crazy, do you mean? No, sir; bright as a pin!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, "he's a very queer fellow any how. By the way, who was +that singing just now over in the saloon there?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know, didn't hear 'em. Some of the boys, I s'pose. They have some +lively swells over there sometimes. Awful hole."</p> + +<p>I resumed my dime novel, and nothing further transpired to aggravate or +satisfy my curiosity concerning the strange story I had heard, till +night came down and the bats began to wheel through the moonless +blackness above the dingy town. At the coming on of dusk I flung away +the book and took to my pipe. Some one touched me on the shoulder, +rousing me from a deep reverie, if not a doze.</p> + +<p>"Ha, stranger, this you, eh? Berry Young's a dyin'; go over there wi' +me, will ye?"</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Doctor Hurd.</p> + +<p>"What need for me have you?" I replied, rather stiffly, not much +relishing this too obtrusive familiarity.</p> + +<p>"Well—I—I jist kinder wanted ye to go over. The poor boy's 'bout +passin' away, an' things is a workin' so tarnation curious! Come 'long +wi' me, friend, will ye?"</p> + +<p>Something in the fellow's voice touched me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> and without another word I +arose and followed him to the cottage. The night was intensely black. I +think it was clear, but a heavy fog from the swamps had settled over +everything, and through this dismal veil the voices of owls from far and +near struck with hollow, sepulchral effect.</p> + +<p>"A heart is the trump!" sang out that alto voice from within the saloon +as we passed.</p> + +<p>Doctor Hurd clutched my arm and muttered:</p> + +<p>"That's that voice ag'in! Strange—strange! Poor Berry Young!"</p> + +<p>We entered the cottage and found ourselves in a cosy little room, where, +on a low bed, a pale, intelligent looking young man lay, evidently +dying. He was very much emaciated, his eyes, wonderfully large and +luminous, were sunken, and his breathing quick and difficult. A haggard, +watching-worn woman sat by his bed. From her resemblance to him I took +her to be his sister. She was evidently very unwell herself. We sat in +silence by his bedside, watching his life flow into eternity, till the +little clock on the mantel struck, sharp and clear, the hour of ten.</p> + +<p>The sound of the bell startled the sick man, and after some incoherent +mumbling he said, quite distinctly:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>"Sister, if you ever again see Ollie Afton, tell him—tell her—tell, +say I forgive him—say to her—him—I loved her all my life—tell +him—ah! what was I saying? Don't cry, sis, please. What a sweet, +faithful sister! Ah! it's almost over, dear——Ah, me!"</p> + +<p>For some minutes the sister's sobbing echoed strangely through the +house. The dying man drew his head far down in the soft pillow. A breath +of damp air stole through the room.</p> + +<p>All at once, right under the window by which the bed sat, arose a +touching guitar prelude—a tangled mesh of melody—gusty, throbbing, +wandering through the room and straying off into the night, tossing back +its trembling echoes fainter and fainter, till, as it began to die, that +same splendid alto voice caught the key and flooded the darkness with +song. The sick man raised himself on his elbow, and his face flashed out +the terrible smile of death. He listened eagerly. It was the song "Come +Where my Love lies Dreaming," but who has heard it rendered as it was +that night? Every chord of the voice was as sweet and witching as a wind +harp's, and the low, humming undertone of the accompaniment was +perfection. Tenderly but awfully sweet, the music at length faded into +utter silence, and Berry Young sank limp and pallid upon his pillows.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>"It is Ollie," he hoarsely whispered. "Tell her—tell him—O say to her +for me—ah! water, sis, it's all over!"</p> + +<p>The woman hastened, but before she could get the water to his lips he +was dead. His last word was Ollie.</p> + +<p>The sister cast herself upon the dead man's bosom and sobbed wildly, +piteously. Soon after this some neighbors came in, which gave me an +opportunity to quietly take my leave.</p> + +<p>The night was so foggy and dark that, but for a bright stream of light +from a window of Sheehan's saloon, it would have been hard for me to +find my way back to the hotel. I did find it, however, and sat down upon +the verandah. I had nearly fallen asleep, thinking over the strange +occurrences of the past few hours, when the rumble of an approaching +train of cars on the I. C. & L. from the east aroused me, and, at the +same moment, a great noise began over in the saloon. High words, a few +bitter oaths, a struggle as of persons fighting, a loud, sonorous crash +like the crushing of a musical instrument, and then I saw the burly bar +tender hurl some one out through the doorway just as the express train +stopped close by.</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" cried the conductor, waving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> his lantern. At the same +time, as the bar-tender stood in the light of his doorway, a brickbat, +whizzing from the darkness, struck him full in the face, knocking him +precipitately back at full length on to the floor of the saloon.</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" repeated the conductor.</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" jeeringly echoed a delicious alto voice; and I saw a +slender man step up on the rear platform of the smoking car. A flash +from the conductor's lantern lit up for a moment this fellow's face, and +it was the most beautiful visage I have ever seen. Extremely youthful, +dark, resplendent, glorious, set round with waves and ringlets of black +hair—it was such a countenance as I have imagined a young Chaldean +might have had who was destined to the high calling of astrology. It was +a face to charm, to electrify the beholder with its indescribable, +almost unearthly loveliness of features and expression.</p> + +<p>The engine whistled, the bell rang, and as the train moved on, that +slender, almost fragile form and wonderful face disappeared in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>As the roar and clash of the receding cars began to grow faint in the +distance, a gurgling, grunting sound over in the saloon reminded me that +the bar-tender might need some attention,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> so I stepped across the +street and went in. He was just taking himself up from the floor, with +his nose badly smashed, spurting blood over him pretty freely. He was in +an ecstasy of fury and swore fearfully. I rendered him all the aid I +could, getting the blood stopped, at length, and a plaster over the +wound.</p> + +<p>"Who struck you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Who struck me? Who hit me with that 'ere brick, d'ye say? Who but that +little baby-faced, hawk-eyed cuss 'at got off here yesterday! He's a +thief and a dog!—he's chowzed me out'n my last cent! Where is he?—I'll +kill 'im yet! where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Gone off on the train," I replied, "but who is he? what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Blamed if I know. Gone, you say? Got every derned red o' my money! +Every derned red!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know anything at all about him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I know 'at he's the derndest, alfiredest, snatchin'est, best +poker-player 'at ever dealt a card!"</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>"That's enough, I'd say. If you'd been beat out'n two hundred an' odd +dollars you'd think you know'd a right smart, wouldn't ye?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said I. The question had a world of philosophy and logic in +it.</p> + +<p>The shattered wreck of a magnificent guitar lay in the middle of the +floor. I picked it up, and, engraved on a heavy silver plate set in the +ebony neck, I read the name, Georgina Olive Afton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">Trout's Luck.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>As early as eight o'clock the grand entrance gateway to the Kokomo fair +ground was thronged with vehicles of almost every kind; horsemen, +pedestrians, dogs and dust were borne forward together in clouds that +boiled and swayed and tumbled. Noise seemed to be the chief purpose of +every one and the one certain result of every thing in the crowd.</p> + +<p>This had been advertised as the merriest day that might ever befall the +quiet, honest folk of the rural regions circumjacent to Kokomo, and it +is even hinted that aristocratic dames and business plethoric men of the +town itself had caught somewhat of the excitement spread abroad by the +announcement in the county papers, and by huge bills posted in +conspicuous places, touching Le Papillon and his monster balloon, which +balloon and which Le Papillon were pictured to the life, on the said +posters, in the act of sailing over the sun, and under the picture, in +remarkably distinct letters, "No humbug! go to the fair!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>Dozier's minstrel troupe was dancing and singing attendance on this +agricultural exhibition, too, and somebody's whirling pavilion, a +shooting gallery, a monkey show, the glass works, and what not of +tempting promises of entertainments, "amusing and instructive."</p> + +<p>Until eleven o'clock the entrance gateway to the fair ground was +crowded. Farm wagons trundled in, drawn by sleek, well fed plough nags, +and stowed full of smiling folk, old and young, male and female, from +the out townships; buggies with youths and maidens, the sparkle of +breastpins and flutter of ribbons; spring wagons full of students and +hard bats from town; carriages brimming with laces, flounces, over +skirts, fancy kid gloves, funny little hats and less bonnets, all +fermented into languid ebullition by mild-eyed ladies; omnibuses that +bore fleshy gentlemen, who wore linen dusters and silk hats and smoked +fine cigars; and jammed in among all these were boys on skittish colts, +old fellows on flea-bit gray mares, with now and then a reckless +stripling on a mule. Occasionally a dog got kicked or run over, giving +the assistance of his howls and yelps to the general din, and over all +the dust hung heavily in a yellow cloud, shot through with the lightning +of burnished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> trappings and echoing with the hoarse thunder of the +trampling, shouting rumbling multitude. Indeed, that hot aguish autumn +day let fall its sunshine on the heads and blew its feverish breath +through the rifts of the greatest and liveliest mass of people ever +assembled in Howard county.</p> + +<p>Inside the extensive enclosure the multitude divided itself into +streams, ponds, eddies, refluent currents and noisy whirlpools of +people. Some rare attraction was everywhere.</p> + +<p>Early in the day the eyes of certain of the rustic misses followed +admiringly the forms of Jack Trout and Bill Powell, handsome young +fellows dressed in homespun clothes, who, arm in arm, strolled leisurely +across the grounds, looking sharply about for some proper place to begin +the expenditure of what few dimes they had each been able to hoard up +against this gala day. They had not long to hunt. On every hand the +"hawkers hawked their wares."</p> + +<p>Rising and falling, tender-toned, deftly managed, a voice rang out +across the crowd pleading with those who had long desired a good +investment for their money, and begging them to be sure and not let slip +this last golden opportunity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>"Only a half a dollah! Come right along this way now! Here's the great +golden scheme by which thousands have amassed untold fortunes! Here's +your only and last chance to get two ounces of first class candy, with +the probability of five dollars in gold coin, all for the small sum of +half a dollah! And the cry is—still they come!"</p> + +<p>The speaker was such a man as one often observes in a first class +railway car, with a stout valise beside him containing samples, dressed +with remarkable care, and ever on the alert to make one's acquaintance. +He stood on top of a small table or tripod, holding in his hand a green +pasteboard package just taken from a box at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Only a half a dollah and a fortune in your grasp! Here's the gold! Roll +right this way and run your pockets over!"</p> + +<p>Drifting round with the tide of impulsive pleasure seekers into which +they happened to fall, Jack Trout and Bill Powell floated past a bevy of +lasses, the prettiest of whom was Minny Hart, a girl whose healthy, +vivid beauty was fast luring Jack on to the rock of matrimonial +proposals.</p> + +<p>"Jimminy, but ain't she a little sweety!" exclaimed the latter, pinching +Bill's arm as they passed, and glancing lovingly at Minny.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>"You're tellin' the truth and talkin' it smooth," replied Bill, bowing +to the girls with the swagger peculiar to a rustic who imagines he has +turned a fine period. And with fluttering hearts the boys passed on.</p> + +<p>"Roll on ye torrents! Only a half a dollah! Right this way if you want +to become a bloated aristocrat in less than no time! Five dollahs in +gold for only a half a dollah! And whose the next lucky man?"</p> + +<p>Blown by the fickle, gusty breath of luck, our two young friends were +finally wafted to the feet of this oily vendor of prize packages, and +they there lodged, becalmed in breathless interest, to await their turn, +each full of faith in the yellow star of his fortune—a gold coin of the +value of five dollars. They stood attentively watching the results of +other men's investments, feeling their fingers tingle when now and then +some lucky fellow drew the coveted prize. Five dollars is a mighty +temptation to a poor country boy in Indiana. That sum will buy oceans of +fun at a fair where almost any "sight" is to be seen for the "small sum +of twenty-five cents!"</p> + +<p>Without stopping to take into consideration the possible, or rather, the +probable result of such a venture, Bill Powell handed up his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> half +dollar to the prize man, thus risking the major part of all the money he +had, and stood trembling with excitement while the fellow broke open the +chosen package. Was it significant of anything that a blue jay fluttered +for a moment right over the crier's head just at the point of his +detaching some glittering object from the contents of the box?</p> + +<p>"Here you are, my friend; luck's a fortune!" yelled the man, as he held +the gold coin high above his head, shaking it in full view of all eyes +in the multitude. "Here you are! which 'd you rather have, the gold or +five and a half in greenbacks?"</p> + +<p>"Hand me in the rag chips—gold don't feel good to my fingers," answered +Bill Powell, swaggering again and grasping the currency with a hand that +shook with eagerness.</p> + +<p>Jack Trout stood by, clutching in his feverish palm a two-dollar bill. +His face was pale, his lips set, his muscles rigid. He hesitated to +trust in the star of his destiny. He stood eyeing the bridge of Lodi, +the dykes of Arcole. Would he risk all on a bold venture? His right +shoulder began to twitch convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Still it rolls, and who's the next lucky man? Don't all speak at once! +Who wants five dollahs in gold and two ounces of delicious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> candy, all +for the small sum of half a dollah?"</p> + +<p>Jack made a mighty effort and passed up his two dollar bill.</p> + +<p>"Bravely done; select your packages!" cried the vendor. Jack tremblingly +pointed them out. Very carelessly and quietly the fellow opened them, +and with a ludicrous grimace remarked—</p> + +<p>"Eight ounces of mighty sweet candy, but nary a prize! Better luck next +time! Only a half a dollah! And who's the next lucky man?"</p> + +<p>A yell of laughter from the crowd greeted this occurrence, and Jack +floated back on the recoiling waves of his chagrin till he was hidden in +the dense concourse, and the uppermost thought in his mind found +forcible expression in the three monosyllables: "Hang the luck!"</p> + +<p>It is quite probable that of all the unfortunate adventurers that day +singed in the yellow fire of that expert gambler's gold, Jack recognized +himself as the most terribly burned. Putting his hands into his empty +pockets, he sauntered dolefully about, scarcely able to look straight +into the face of such friends as he chanced to meet. He acted as if +hunting for something lost on the ground. Poor fellow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> it was a real +relief to him when some one treated him to a glass of lemonade, and, +indeed, so much were his feelings relieved by the cool potation, that +when, soon after, he met Minny Hart, he was actually smiling.</p> + +<p>"O, Jack!" cried the pretty girl, "I'm so glad to see you just now, for +I do want to go into the minstrel show <i>so bad</i>!" She shot a glance of +coquettish tenderness right into Jack's heart. For a single moment he +was blessed, but on feeling for his money and recalling the luckless +result of his late venture, he felt a chill creep up his back, and a +lump of the size of his fist jump up into his throat. Here was a bad +affair for him. He stood for a single point of time staring into the +face of his despair, then, acting on the only plan he could think of to +escape from the predicament, he said:</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit, Minny, I've got to go jist down here a piece to see a +feller. I'll be back d'rectly. You stay right here and when I come back +I'll trot you in."</p> + +<p>So speaking, as if in a great hurry, and sweating cold drops, with a +ghastly smile flickering on his face, the young man slipped away into +the crowd.</p> + +<p>Minny failed to notice his confusion, and so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> called after him cheerily: +"Well, hurry, Jack, for I'm most dead to see the show!"</p> + +<p>What could Trout do? He spun round and round in that vast flood of +people like a fish with but one eye. He rushed here, he darted there, +and ever and anon, as a lost man returns upon his starting point, he +came in sight of sweet Minny Hart patiently waiting for his return. Then +he would spring back into the crowd like a deer leaping back into a +thicket at sight of a hunter. Penniless at the fair, with Minny Hart +waiting for him to take her into the show! Few persons can realize how +keenly he now felt the loss of his money. He ought, no doubt, to have +told the lass at once just how financial matters stood; but nothing was +more remote from his mind than doing anything of the kind. He was too +vain.</p> + +<p>"Tell 'er I 'ain't got no money! No, sir-ee!" he muttered. "But what +<i>am</i> I to do? Bust the luck! Hang the luck! Rot the luck!"</p> + +<p>He hurried hither and thither, intent on nothing and taking no heed of +the course he pursued. His cheeks were livid and his eyes had in them +that painful, worried, wistful look so often seen in the eyes of men +going home from ruin on Wall street.</p> + +<p>Meantime that sea of persons surged this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> way and that, flecked with a +foam of ribbons and dancing bubbles of hats, now flowing slowly through +the exhibition rooms a tide of critics, now breaking into groups and +scattered throngs of babblers, anon uniting to roar round some novel +engine suddenly set to work, or to break on the barrier of the trolling +ring into a spray of cravats and a mist of flounces. Swimming round in +this turbulent tide like a crazy flounder with but one fin, Jack finally +found himself hard by the pavilion of the minstrels. He could hear +somewhat of the side-splitting jokes, with the laughs that followed, the +tinkle of banjo accompaniments and the mellow cadences of plantation +songs, the rattle of castanets and the tattoo of the jig dancers' feet. +A thirst like the thirst of fever took hold of him.</p> + +<p>"Come straight along gentlemen and ladies! This celebrated troupe is now +performing and twenty-five cents pays the bill! Only a quawtah of a +dollah!" bawled the fat crier from his lofty perch. "That's right, my +young man, take the young lady in! She's sure to love you better; walk +right along!"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Her lip am sweet as sugah,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Her eye am bright as wine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dat yaller little boogah</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Her name am Emiline!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>sung by four fine voices, came bubbling from within. The music thrilled +Jack to the bone, and he felt once more for his money. Not a cent. This +was bad.</p> + +<p>"You're the lad for me," continued the fat man on the high seat; "take +your nice little sweetheart right in and let her see the fun. Walk right +in!"</p> + +<p>Jack looked to see who it was, and a pang shot through his heart and +settled in the very marrow of his bones; for lo! arm in arm, Bill Powell +and Minny Hart passed under the pavilion into the full glory of the +show!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"O cut me up for fish bait</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' feed me to de swine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Don't care where I goes to</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So I has Emiline!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>sang the minstrel chorus.</p> + +<p>"Dast him, he's got me!" muttered Jack as Bill and Minny disappeared +within. He turned away, sick at heart, and this was far from the first +throe of jealousy he had suffered on Bill's account. Indeed it had given +him no little uneasiness lately to see how sweetly Minny sometimes +smiled on young Powell.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Jack continued to mutter to himself, "yes, sir, he's got me! +He's about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> three lengths ahead o' me, as these hoss fellers says, an' I +don't know but what I'm distanced. Blow the blasted luck!"</p> + +<p>Heartily tired of the fair, burning with rage, and jealousy, and +despair, but still vaguely hoping against hope for some better luck from +some visionary source, Jack strolled about, chewing the bitter cud of +his feelings, his hands up to his elbows in his trowser pockets and his +soul up to its ears in the flood of discontent. He puckered his mouth +into whistling position, but it refused to whistle. He felt as if he had +a corn cob crossways in his throat. The wind blew his new hat off and a +mule kicked the top out of the crown.</p> + +<p>"Only a half a dollah! Who's the next lucky man?" cried the prize +package fellow. "I'm now going to sell a new sort of packages, each of +which, beside the usual amount of choice candy, contains a piece of +jewelry of pure gold! Who takes the first chance for only a half a +dollah?"</p> + +<p>"'Ere's your mule!" answered Bill Powell, as with Minny still clinging +to his arm, he pushed through the crowd and handed up the money.</p> + +<p>"Bravely done!" shouted the crier; "see what a beautiful locket and +chain! Luck's a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> fortune! And who's the next to invest? Come right along +and don't be afraid of a little risk! Only a half a dollah!"</p> + +<p>Jack saw Bill put the glittering chain round Minny's neck and fasten the +locket in her belt; saw the eyes of the sweet girl gleam proudly, +gratefully; saw black spots dancing before his own eyes; saw Bill +swagger and toss his head. He turned dizzily away, whispering savagely, +"Dern 'im!"</p> + +<p>Just here let me say that such an expression is not a profane one. I +once saw a preacher kick at a little dog that got in his way on the +sidewalk. The minister's foot missed the little dog and hit an iron +fence, and the little dog bit the minister's other leg and jumped +through the fence. The minister performed a <i>pas de zephyr</i> and very +distinctly said "Dern 'im!" Wherefore I don't think it can be anything +more than a mere puff of fretfulness.</p> + +<p>After this Jack was for some time standing near the entrance to the +"glass-works," a place where transparent steam engines and wonderful +fountains were on exhibition. He felt a grim delight in tantalizing +himself with looking at the pictures of these things and wishing he had +money enough to pay the entrance fee. He saw persons pass in eagerly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +and come out calm and satisfied—men with their wives and children, +young men with girls on their arms, prominent among whom were Bill and +Minny, and one dapper sportsman even bought a ticket for his setter, +and, patting the brute on the head, took him in.</p> + +<p>"Onery nor a dog!" hissed Jack, shambling off, and once more taking a +long deep dive under the surface of the crowd. A ground swell cast him +again near the vender of prize packages.</p> + +<p>"Only a half a dollah!" he yelled; "come where fortune smiles, and cares +and poverty take flight, for only a half a dollah!"</p> + +<p>"Jist fifty cents more'n I've got about my clothes!" replied Jack, and +the bystanders, taking this for great wit, joined in a roar of laughter, +while with a grim smile the desperate youth passed on till he found +himself near the toe mark of a shooting gallery, where for five cents +one might have two shots with an air gun. He stood there for a time +watching a number of persons try their marksmanship. It was small joy to +know that he was a fine off-hand shot, so long as he had not a nickel in +his pocket, but still he stood there wishing he might try his hand.</p> + +<p>"Cl'ar the track here! Let this 'ere lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> take a shoot!" cried a +familiar voice; and a way was opened for Bill Powell and Minny Hart. The +little maiden was placed at the toe mark and a gun given to her. She +handled the weapon like one used to it. She raised it, shut one eye, +took deliberate aim and fired.</p> + +<p>"Centre!" roared the marker, as to the sound of a bell the funny little +puppet leaped up and grinned above the target. Every body standing near +laughed and some of the boys cheered vociferously. Minny looked sweeter +than ever. Jack Trout felt famished. He begged a chew of tobacco of a +stranger, and, grinding the weed furiously, walked off to where the +yellow pavilion with its painted air-boats was whirling its cargoes of +happy boys and girls round and round for the "Small sum of ten cents." A +long, lean, red-headed fellow in one of the boats was paying for a ride +of limitless length by scraping on a miserable fiddle. To Jack this +seemed small labor for so much fun. How he envied the fiddler as he flew +round, trailing his tunes behind him!</p> + +<p>"Wo'erp there! Stop yer old merchine! We'll take a ride ef ye don't +keer!"</p> + +<p>The pavilion was stopped, a boat lowered for Bill Powell and Minny Hart, +who got in side by side, and the fiddler struck up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> tune of +"Black-eyed Susie." Jack watched that happy couple go round and round, +till, by the increased velocity, their two faces melted into one, which +was neither Bill's nor Minny's—it was Luck's!</p> + +<p>"He's got one outo me," muttered Jack; "I've got no money, can't fiddle +for a ride, nor nothin', and I don't keer a ding what becomes o' me, +nohow!"</p> + +<p>With these words Jack wended his way to a remote part of the fair +ground, where, under gay awnings, the sutlers had spread their tempting +variety of cakes, pies, fruits, nuts and loaves. Here were persons of +all ages and sizes—men, women and children—eating at well supplied +tables. The sight was a fascinating one, and, though seeing others eat +did not in the least appease his own hunger, Jack stood for a long time +watching the departure of pies and the steady lessening of huge pyramids +of sweet cakes. He particularly noticed one little table that had on its +centre a huge peach pie, which table was yet unoccupied. While he was +actually thinking over the plan of eating the pie and trusting to his +legs to bear him beyond the reach of a dun, Bill and Minny sat down by +the table and proceeded to discuss the delicious, red-hearted heap of +pastry. At this point Bill caught Jack's eye:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>"Come here, Jack," said he; "this pie's more'n we can eat, come and help +us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, come along, Jack," put in Minny in her sweetest way; "I want to +tell you what a lot of fun we've had, and more than that, I want to know +why you didn't come back and take me into the show!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't hungry," muttered Jack, "and besides I've got to go see a +feller."</p> + +<p>He turned away almost choking.</p> + +<p>"Bill's got me. 'Taint no use talkin', I'm played out for good. I'm a +trumped Jack!"</p> + +<p>He smiled a sort of flinty smile at his poor wit, and shuffled aimlessly +along through the densest clots of the crowd.</p> + +<p>And it so continued to happen, that wherever Jack happened to stop for +any considerable length of time he was sure to see Bill and Minny +enjoying some rare treat, or disappearing in or emerging from some place +of amusement.</p> + +<p>At last, driven to desperation, he determined on trying to borrow a +dollar from his father. He immediately set about to find the old +gentleman; a task of no little difficulty in such a crowd. It was Jack's +forlorn hope, and it had a gloomy outlook; for old 'Squire Trout was +thought by competent judges to be the stingiest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> man in the county. But +hoping for the best, Jack hunted him here, there and everywhere, till at +length he met a friend who said he had seen the 'Squire in the act of +leaving the fair ground for home just a few minutes before.</p> + +<p>Taking no heed of what folks might say, Jack, on receiving this +intelligence, darted across the ground, out at the gate and down the +road at a speed worthy of success; but alas! his hopes were doomed to +wilt. At the first turn of the road he met a man who informed him that +he had passed 'Squire Trout some three miles out on his way home, which +home was full nine miles distant!</p> + +<p>Panting, crestfallen, defeated, done for, poor Jack slowly plodded back +to the fair ground gate, little dreaming of the new trouble that awaited +him there.</p> + +<p>"Ticket!" said a gruff voice as he was about to pass in. He recoiled, +amazed at his own stupidity, as he recollected that he had not thought +to get a check as he went out! He tried to explain, but it was no go.</p> + +<p>"You needn't try that game on me," said the gatekeeper. "So just plank +down your money or stay outside."</p> + +<p>Then Jack got furious, but the gatekeeper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> remarked that he had +frequently "hearn it thunder afore this!"</p> + +<p>Jack smiled like a corpse and turned away. Going a short distance down +the road he climbed up and sat down on top of the fence of a late mown +clover field. Then he took out his jack-knife and began to whittle a +splinter plucked from a rail. His face was gloomy, his eyes lustreless. +Finally he stretched himself, hungry, jealous, envious, hateful, on top +of the fence with his head between the crossed stakes. His face thus +upturned to heaven, he watched two crows drift over, high up in the +torrid reaches of autumn air, hot as summer, even hotter, and allowed +his lips free privilege to anathematize his luck. For a long time he lay +thus, dimly conscious of the blue bird's song and the water-like ripple +of the grass in the fence corners. "Minny, Minny Hart, Minny!" sang the +meadow larks, and the burden of the grasshopper's ditty was——"Only a +half a dollah!"</p> + +<p>All at once there arose from the fair ground a mighty chorus of yells, +that went echoing off across the country to the bluffs of Wild-cat Creek +and died far off in the woods toward Greentown. Jack did not raise his +head, but lay there in a sort of morose stupor, knowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> well that +whatever the sport might be, he had no hand in it.</p> + +<p>"Let 'em rip!" he muttered, "Bill's got me!"</p> + +<p>Presently the wagons and other vehicles began to leave the ground, from +one of which he caught the sound of a sweet, familiar voice. He looked +just in time to get a glimpse of Mr. Hart's wagon, and in it, side by +side, Bill Powell and Minny! A cloud of yellow dust soon hid them, and +turning away his head, happening to glance upward, Jack saw, just +disappearing in a thin white cloud, the golden disc of Le Papillon's +balloon!</p> + +<p>He immediately descended from his perch and began plodding his way home, +muttering as he did so——</p> + +<p>"Dast the luck! Ding the prize package feller! Doggone Bill Powell! +Blame the old b'loon! Dern everybody!"</p> + +<p>It was long after nightfall when he reached his father's gate. Hungry, +weak, foot-sore, collapsed, he leaned his chin on the top rail of the +gate and stood there for a moment while the starlight fell around him, +sifted through the dusky foliage of the old beech trees, and from the +far dim caverns of the night a voice smote on his ear, crying out +tenderly, mockingly, persuasively——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>"Only a half a dollah!"</p> + +<p>And Jack slipped to his room and went supperless to bed, often during +the night muttering, through the interstices of his sleep——"Bill's got +me!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">Big Medicine.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>The corner brick storehouse—in fact the only brick building in +Jimtown—was to be sold at auction; and, consequently, by ten o'clock in +the morning, a considerable body of men had collected near the somewhat +dilapidated house, directly in front of which the auctioneer, a fat man +from Indianapolis, mounted on an old goods box, began crying, partly +through his tobacco-filled mouth and partly through his very unmusical +nose, as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Come up, gentlemen, and examine the new, beautiful and commodious +property I now offer for sale! Walk round the house, men, and view it +from every side. Go into it, if you like, up stairs and down, and then +give me a bid, somebody, to start with. It is a very desirable house, +indeed, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>With this preliminary puff, the speaker paused and glanced slowly over +his audience with the air of a practiced physiognomist.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> The crowd +before him was, in many respects, an interesting one. Its most prominent +individual, and the hero of this sketch, was Dave Cook, sometimes called +Dr. Cook, but more commonly answering to the somewhat savage sounding +sobriquet of Big Medicine—a man some thirty-five years of age, standing +six feet six in his ponderous boots; broad, bony, muscular, a real +giant, with a strongly marked Roman face, and brown, shaggy hair. He was +dressed in a soiled and somewhat patched suit of butternut jeans, topped +off with a wide rimmed wool hat, wonderfully battered, and lopped in +every conceivable way. He wore a watch, the chain of which, depending +from the waistband of his pants, was of iron, and would have weighed +fully a pound avoirdupois. He stood quite still, near the auctioneer, +smoking a clay pipe, his herculean arms folded on his breast, his feet +far apart. As for the others of the crowd, they were, taken +collectively, about such as one used always to see in the "dark corners" +of Indiana, such as Boone county used to be before the building of any +railroads through it, such as the particular locality of Jimtown was +before the ditching law and the I. B. & W. Railway had lifted the fog +and enlightened the miasmatic swamps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> and densely timbered bog lands of +that region of elms, burr oaks, frogs and herons. Big Medicine seemed to +be the only utterly complacent man in the assembly. All the others +discovered evidences of much inward disturbance, muttering mysteriously +to each other, and casting curious, inquiring glances at an individual, +a stranger in the place, who, with a pair of queer green spectacles +astride his nose, and his arms crossed behind him, was slowly sauntering +about the building offered for sale, apparently examining it with some +care. His general appearance was that of a well dressed gentleman, which +of itself was enough to excite remark in Jimtown, especially when an +auction was on hand, and everybody felt jolly.</p> + +<p>"Them specs sticks to that nose o' his'n like a squir'l to a knot!" said +one.</p> + +<p>"His pantaloons is ruther inclined to be knock-kneed," put in an old, +grimy sinner leaning on a single barrelled shot gun.</p> + +<p>"Got lard enough onto his hair to shorten a mess o' pie crust," added a +liver colored boy.</p> + +<p>"Walks like he'd swallered a fence rail, too," chimed in a humpbacked +fellow split almost to his chin.</p> + +<p>"Chaws mighty fine terbacker, you bet."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>"Them there boots o' his'n set goin' an' comin' like a grubbin' hoe onto +a crooked han'le."</p> + +<p>"Well, take'm up one side and down t'other, he's a mod'rately onery +lookin' feller."</p> + +<p>These remarks were reckoned smart by those who perpetrated them, and +were by no means meant for real slurs on the individual at whom they +were pointed. Indeed they were delivered in guarded undertones, so that +he might not hear them; and he, meanwhile, utterly ignorant of affording +any sport, continued his examination of the house, the while some happy +frogs in a neighboring pond rolled out a rattling, jubilant chorus, and +the summer wind poured through the leafy tops of the tall elms and +athletic burr oaks with a swash and roar like a turbulent river.</p> + +<p>"What am I now offered for this magnificent property? Come, give me a +bid! Speak up lively! What do I hear for the house?"</p> + +<p>The auctioneer, as he spoke, let his eyes wander up the walls of the +old, dingy building, to where the blue birds and the peewees had built +in the cracks and along the warped cornice and broken window frames, and +just then it chanced that a woman's face appeared at one of those +staring holes, which, with broken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> lattice and shattered glass, still +might be called a window. The face was a plump, cheerful one, the more +radiant from contrast with the dull wall around it—a face one could +never forget, however, and would recall often, if for nothing but the +fine fall of yellow hair that framed it in. It was a sweet, winning, +intellectual face, full of the gentlest womanly charms.</p> + +<p>"Forty dollars for the house, 'oman and all!" cried Big Medicine, gazing +up at the window in which, for the merest moment, the face appeared.</p> + +<p>The man with the green spectacles darted a quick glance at the speaker.</p> + +<p>"I am bid forty dollars, gentlemen, forty dollars, do all hear? Agoing +for forty dollars! Who says fifty?" bawled the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>The crowd now swayed earnestly forward, closing in solid order around +the goods box. Many whiskered, uncouth, but not unkindly faces were +upturned to the window only in time to see the beautiful woman disappear +quite hastily.</p> + +<p>"Hooray for the gal!" cried a lusty youth, whose pale blue eyes made no +show of contrast with his faded hair and aguish complexion. "Dad, can't +ye bid agin the doctor so as I kin claim 'er?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>"Fifty dollars!" shouted the sunburnt man addressed as Dad.</p> + +<p>This made the crowd lively. Every man nudged his neighbor, and the +aguish, blue-eyed boy grinned in a ghastly, self-satisfied way.</p> + +<p>"Agoing at fifty dollars! Fiddlesticks! The house is worth four +thousand. No fooling here now! Agoing at only fifty dollars—going—"</p> + +<p>"Six hundred dollars," said he of the green glasses in a clear, pleasant +voice.</p> + +<p>"Six hundred dollars!" echoed the auctioneer in a triumphant thunderous +tone. "That sounds like business. Who says the other hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Hooray for hooray, and hooray for hooray's daddy!" shouted the +tallow-faced lad.</p> + +<p>The frogs pitched their song an octave higher, the blue birds and +peewees wheeled through the falling floods of yellow sunlight, and lower +and sweeter rose the murmur of the tide of pulsating air as it lifted +and swayed the fresh sprays of the oaks and elms. The well dressed +stranger lighted a cigar, took off his green glasses and put them +carefully in his pocket, then took a cool straight look at Big Medicine.</p> + +<p>The Roman face of the latter was just then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> a most interesting one. It +was expressive of more than words could rightly convey. Six hundred +dollars, cash down, was a big sum for the crazy old house, but he had +made up his mind to buy it, and now he seemed likely to have to let it +go or pay more than it was worth. The stem of his clay pipe settled back +full three inches into his firmly-set mouth, so that there seemed +imminent danger to the huge brown moustache that overhung the fiery +bowl. He returned the stare of the stranger with interest, and said—</p> + +<p>"Six hundred an' ten dollars."</p> + +<p>"Agoing, a——," began the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Six twenty," said the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Ago——."</p> + +<p>"Six twenty-one!" growled Big Medicine.</p> + +<p>"Six twenty-five!" quickly added his antagonist.</p> + +<p>Big Medicine glanced heavenward, and for a moment allowed his eyes to +follow the flight of a great blue heron that slowly winged its way, high +up in the yellow summer reaches of splendor, toward the distant swamps +where the white sycamores spread their fanciful arms above the dark +green maples and dusky witch-hazel thickets. The auctioneer, a close +observer, saw an ashy hue, a barely discernible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> shade, ripple across +the great Roman face as Big Medicine said, in a jerking tone:</p> + +<p>"Six twenty-five and a half!"</p> + +<p>The stranger took his cigar from his mouth and smiled placidly. No more +imperturbable countenance could be imagined.</p> + +<p>"Six twenty-six!" he said gently.</p> + +<p>"Take the ole house an' be derned to you!" cried Big Medicine, looking +furiously at his antagonist. "Take the blamed ole shacke-merack an' all +the cussed blue-birds an' peer-weers to boot, for all I keer!"</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed, and the auctioneer continued:</p> + +<p>"Agoing for six twenty-six! Who says seven hundred? Bid up lively! +Agoing once, agoing twice—once, twice, three-e-e-e-e times! Sold to +Abner Golding for six hundred and twenty-six dollars, and as cheap as +dirt itself!"</p> + +<p>"Hooray for the man who hed the most money!" shouted the tallow-faced +boy.</p> + +<p>The sale was at an end. The auctioneer came down from his box and wiped +his face with a red handkerchief. The crowd, as if blown apart by a puff +of wind, scattered this way and that, drifting into small, grotesque +groups to converse together on whatever topic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> might happen to suggest +itself. Big Medicine seemed inclined to be alone, but the irrepressible +youth of the saffron skin ambled up to him and said, in a tone intended +for comic:</p> + +<p>"Golly, doctor, but didn't that 'ere gal projuce a orful demand for the +ole house! Didn't she set the ole trap off when she peeked out'n the +winder!"</p> + +<p>Big Medicine looked down at the strapping boy, much as a lion might look +at a field rat or a weasel, then he doubled his hand into an enormous +fist and held it under the youth's nose, saying in a sort of growl as he +did so:</p> + +<p>"You see this 'ere bundle o' bones, don't ye?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so," replied the youth.</p> + +<p>"Well, would you like a small mess of it?"</p> + +<p>"Not as anybody knows of."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, keep yer derned mouth shet!"</p> + +<p>Which, accordingly, the boy proceeded to do, ambling off as quickly as +possible.</p> + +<p>About this time, the stranger, having put the green spectacles back upon +his nose, walked in the direction of 'Squire Tadmore's office, +accompanied by the young woman who had looked from the window. When Big +Medicine saw them he picked up a stick and began furiously to whittle it +with his jack-knife.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> His face wore a comically mingled look of chagrin, +wonder, and something like a new and thrilling delight. He puffed out +great volumes of smoke, making his pipe wheeze audibly under the vigor +of his draughts. He was certainly excited.</p> + +<p>"Orful joke the boys 'll have on me arter this," he muttered to himself. +"Wonder if the 'oman's the feller's wife? Monstrous poorty, shore's yer +born!"</p> + +<p>He soon whittled up one stick. He immediately dived for another, this +time getting hold of a walnut knot. A tough thing to whittle, but he +attacked it as if it had been a bit of white pine. Soon after this +'Squire Tadmore's little boy came running down from his father's office +to where Big Medicine stood.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Big Medicine," cried he, all out of breath, "that 'ere man what +bought the ole house wants to see you partic'ler!"</p> + +<p>"Mischief he does! Tell 'im to go to——; no, wait a bit. Guess I'll go +tell 'im myself."</p> + +<p>And, so saying, he moved at a slashing pace down to the door of the +'Squire's office. He thrust his great hirsute head inside the room, and +glaring at the mild mannered stranger, said:</p> + +<p>"D'ye want to see me?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>Mr. Golding got up from his seat and coming out took Big Medicine +familiarly by the arm, meanwhile smiling in the most friendly way.</p> + +<p>"Come one side a little, I wish to speak with you privately, +confidentially."</p> + +<p>Big Medicine went rather sulkily along. When they had gone some distance +from the house Mr. Golding lifted his spectacles from his nose, and +turning his calm, smiling eyes full upon those of Big Medicine, said, +with a shrug of his finely cut shoulders:</p> + +<p>"I outbid you a little, my friend, but I'm blessed if I haven't got +myself into a ridiculous scrape on account of it."</p> + +<p>"How so?" growled Big Medicine.</p> + +<p>"Why, when I come to count my funds I'm short a half dollar."</p> + +<p>"You're what?"</p> + +<p>"I lack just a half dollar of having enough money to pay for the house, +and I thought I'd rather ask you to loan me the money than anybody else +here."</p> + +<p>Big Medicine stood for a time in silence, whittling away, as if for dear +life, on the curly knot. Dreamy gusts of perfumed heat swept by from +adjacent clover and wheat fields, where the blooms hung thick; little +whirlwinds played in the dust at their feet as little whirlwinds always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +do in summer; and far away, faint, and made tenderly musical by +distance, were heard the notes of a country dinner-horn. Big Medicine's +ample chest swelled, and swelled, and then he burst at the mouth with a +mighty bass laugh, that went battling and echoing round the place. Mr. +Golding laughed too, in his own quiet, gentlemanly way. They looked at +each other and laughed, then looked off toward the swamps and laughed. +Big Medicine put his hands in his pockets almost up to the elbows, and +leaned back and laughed out of one corner of his mouth while holding his +pipe in the other.</p> + +<p>"I say, mister," said he at length, "a'n't you railly got but six +hundred and twenty-five an' a half?"</p> + +<p>"Just that much to a cent, and no more," replied Mr. Golding, with a +comical smile and bow.</p> + +<p>Big Medicine took his pipe from his mouth, gave the walnut knot he had +dropped a little kick and guffawed louder and longer than before. To +have been off at a little distance watching them would have convinced +any one that Mr. Golding was telling some rare anecdote, and that Big +Medicine was convulsed with mirth, listening.</p> + +<p>"Well I'm derned if 'taint quare," cried the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> latter, wringing himself +into all sorts of grotesque attitudes in the ecstasy of his amusement. +"You outbid me half a dollar and then didn't have the half a dollar +neither! Wha, wha, wha-ee!" and his cachinnations sounded like rolling +of moderate thunder.</p> + +<p>At the end of this he took out a greasy wallet and paid Mr. Golding the +required amount in silver coin. His chagrin had vanished before the +stranger's quiet way of making friends.</p> + +<p>A week passed over Jimtown. A week of as rare June weather as ever +lingered about the cool places of the woods, or glimmered over the sweet +clover fields all red with a blush of bloom, where the field larks +twittered and the buntings chirped, and where the laden bees rose +heavily to seek their wild homes in the hollows of the forests. By this +time it was generally known in Jimtown that Mr. Golding would soon +receive a stock of goods with which to open a "store" in the old corner +brick; but Big Medicine knew more than any of his neighbors, for he and +Golding had formed a partnership to do business under the "name and +style" of Cook & Golding.</p> + +<p>This Abner Golding had lately been a wealthy retail man in Cincinnati, +and had lost everything by the sudden suspension of a bank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> wherein the +bulk of his fortune was on deposit. His creditors had made a run on him +and he had been able to save just the merest remnant of his goods, and a +few hundred dollars in money. Thus he came to Jimtown to begin life and +business anew.</p> + +<p>To Big Medicine the week had been a long one; why, it would not be easy +to tell. No doubt there had come a turning point in his life. In those +days, and in that particular region, to be a 'store keeper' was no small +honor. But Big Medicine acted strangely. He wandered about, with his +hands in his pockets, whistling plaintive tunes, and often he was seen +standing out before the old corner brick, gazing up at one of the vacant +windows where pieces of broken lattice were swaying in the wind. At such +times he muttered softly to himself:</p> + +<p>"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal."</p> + +<p>Four big road wagons (loaded with boxes), three of them containing the +merchandise and one the scanty household furniture of Mr. Golding and +his daughter Carrie, came rumbling into Jimtown. Big Medicine was on +hand, a perfect Hercules at unloading and unpacking. Mr. Golding was +sadly pleasant; Carrie was roguishly observant, but womanly and quiet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>The tallow-faced youth and two or three others stood by watching the +proceedings. The former occasionally made a remark at which the others +never failed to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ef ye'll notice, now," said he, "it's a fac 'at whenever Big Medicine +goes to make a big surge to lift a box, he fust takes a peep at the gal, +an' that 'ere seems to kinder make 'im 'wax strong an' multiply,' as the +preacher says, an' then over goes the box!"</p> + +<p>"Has a awful effect on his narves," some one replied.</p> + +<p>"I'm a thinkin'," added tallow-face, "'at ef Big Medicine happens to +look at the gal about the time he goes to make a trade, it'll have sich +a power on 'im 'at he'll sell a yard o' caliker for nigh onto forty +dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Er a blanket overcoat for 'bout twelve an' a half cents!" put in +another.</p> + +<p>"I'm kinder weakly," resumed tallow-face with a comical leer at Big +Medicine; "wonder if 't wouldn't be kinder strengthnin' on me ef I'd +kinder sidle up towards the gal myself?"</p> + +<p>"I'll sidle up to you!" growled Big Medicine; and making two strides of +near ten feet each, he took the youth by his faded flaxen hair, and +holding him clear of the ground, administered a half dozen or so of +resounding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> kicks, then tossed him to one side, where he fell in a heap +on the ground. When he got on his feet again he began to bristle up and +show fight, but when Big Medicine reached for him he ambled off.</p> + +<p>In due time the goods were all placed on the shelves and Mr. Golding's +household furniture arranged in the upper rooms where he purposed +living, Carrie acting as housekeeper.</p> + +<p>On the first evening after all things had been put to rights, Mr. +Golding said to Big Medicine:</p> + +<p>"I suppose we ought to advertise."</p> + +<p>"Do how?"</p> + +<p>"Advertise."</p> + +<p>"Sartinly," said Big Medicine, having not the faintest idea of what his +partner meant.</p> + +<p>"Who can we get to paint our fence advertisements?"</p> + +<p>A gleam of intelligence shot from Big Medicine's eyes. He knew now what +was wanted. He remembered once, on a visit to Crawfordsville, seeing +these fence advertisements. He comprehended in a moment.</p> + +<p>"O, I know what ye mean, now," he said, with a grin, as if communing +with himself on some novel suggestion. "I guess I kin 'tend to that my +own self. The moon shines to-night, don't it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>"Yes; why?"</p> + +<p>"I'll do the paintin' to-night. A good ijee has jist struck me. You jist +leave it all to me."</p> + +<p>So the thing was settled, and Big Medicine was gone all night.</p> + +<p>The next day was a sluice of rain. It poured incessantly from daylight +till dark. Big Medicine sat on the counter in the corner brick and +chuckled. His thoughts were evidently very pleasant ones. Mr. Golding +was busy marking goods and Carrie was helping him. The great grey eyes +of Big Medicine followed the winsome girl all the time. When night came, +and she went up stairs, he said to Golding:</p> + +<p>"That gal o' your'n is a mighty smart little 'oman."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and she's all I have left," replied Mr. Golding in a sad tone.</p> + +<p>Big Medicine stroked his brown beard, whistled a few turns of a jig +tune, and, jumping down from the counter, went out into the drizzly +night. A few rods from the house he turned and looked up at the window. +A little form was just vanishing from it.</p> + +<p>"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," he murmured, then turned and went his +way, occupied with strange, sweet imaginings. As a matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> of the merest +conjecture, it is interesting to dwell upon the probable turn taken by +his thoughts as he slowly stalked through the darkness and rain that +night; but I shall not trench on what, knowing all that I do, seems +sanctified and hallowed. It would be breaking a sacred confidence. Who +has stood and watched for a form at a window? Who has expressed, in +language more refined, to the inner fountain of human sympathy, the idea +conveyed in the rough fellow's remark? Who that has, let him recall the +time and the place holy in his memory.</p> + +<p>"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," said the man, and went away to his +lonely bed to dream the old new dream. All night the rain fell, making +rich music on the roof and pouring through his healthy slumber a sound +like the flowing of strange rivers in a land of new delights—a land +into which he had strayed hand in hand with some one, the merest touch +of whose hand was rapture, the simplest utterance of whose voice was +charming beyond expression. The old new dream. The dream of flesh that +is divine—the vision of blood that is love's wine—the apocalypse that +bewildered the eyes of the old singer when from a flower of foam in the +sweet green sea rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> the Cytherean Venus. We have all dreamed the dream +and found it sweet.</p> + +<p>It is quite probable that no fence advertisements ever paid as well, or +stirred up as big a "muss" as those painted by Big Medicine on the night +mentioned heretofore. As an artist our Hoosier was not a genius, but he +certainly understood how to manufacture a notoriety. If space permitted +I would copy all those rude notices for your inspection; but I must be +content with a few random specimens taken from memory, with an eye to +brevity. They are characteristic of the man and in somewhat an index of +the then state of society in and around Jimtown. On Deacon Jones's fence +was scrawled the following: "Dern yer ole sole, ef yer want good Koffy +go to Cook & Golding's nu stoar."</p> + +<p>John Butler, a nice old quaker, had the following daubed on his gate: +"Yu thievin' duk-legged ya and na ole cuss, ef the sperit muves ye, go +git a broad-brimmed straw hat at Cook & Golding's great stand at +Jimtown." The side of William Smith's pig pen bore this: "Bill, ye +ornery sucker, come traid with Cook & Golding at the ole corner brick in +Jimtown." Old Peter Gurley found writing to the following effect on his +new wagon bed: "Ef<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> yoor dri or anything, you'll find a virtoous Kag of +ri licker at Cook & Golding's." On a large plank nailed to a tree at +Canaan's Cross Roads all passers by saw the following: "Git up an +brindle! Here's yer ole and faithful mewl! Come in gals and git yer +dofunny tricks and fixens, hats, caps, bonnets, parrysols, silk +petty-coat-sleeves and other injucements too noomerous too menshen! Rip +in—we're on it! Call at Cook & Golding's great corner brick!"</p> + +<p>These are fair specimens of what appeared everywhere. How one man could +have done so much in one night remains a mystery. Some people swore, +some threatened to prosecute, but finally everybody went to the corner +brick to trade. Jimtown became famous on account of Big Medicine and the +corner brick store.</p> + +<p>The sun rose through the morning gate beyond the quagmires east of +Jimtown and set through the evening gate past the ponds and maple swamps +to the west. The winds blew and there were days of calm. The weather ran +through its mutations of heat and cold. The herons flew over, the blue +birds twittered and went away and came again, and the peewees +disappeared and returned. A whole year had rolled round and it was June +again, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> the air full of rumors about the building of a railroad +through Jimtown.</p> + +<p>During this flow of time Big Medicine had feasted his eyes on the bright +curls and brighter eyes of Carrie Golding, till his heart had become +tender and happy as a child's. They rarely conversed more than for him +to say, "Miss Carrie, look there," or for her to call out, "Please, Mr. +Cook, hand me down this bolt of muslin." But Big Medicine was content.</p> + +<p>It was June the 8th, about ten o'clock in the morning, and Big Medicine +was slowly making his way from his comfortable bachelor's cabin to the +corner brick. A peculiar smile was on his face, his heart was fluttering +strangely, and all on account of a little circumstance of the preceding +day, now fresh in his memory. Great boy that he was, he was poring ever +a single sweet smile Carrie Golding had given him!</p> + +<p>The mail hack stood at the post-office door, whence Mr. Golding was +coming with a letter in his hand. Big Medicine stopped and looked up at +the window. There stood Carrie. She was looking hopefully toward her +father. Big Medicine smiled and murmured:</p> + +<p>"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal—bless her sweet soul!" There was a +whole world of sincere happiness in the tones of his voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>Mr. Golding passed him hastily, his green spectacles on his nose, and a +great excitement flashing from his face. Big Medicine gazed wonderingly +after his partner till he saw him run up stairs to Carrie's room. Then +he thought he heard Carrie cry out joyfully, but it may have been the +wind.</p> + +<p>When an hour had passed Mr. Golding and Carrie came down dressed for +travelling. How strangely, wondrously beautiful the girl now looked! Mr. +Golding was as nervous as an old woman. He rubbed his thin white hands +together rapidly and said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cook, I have glorious news this morning!"</p> + +<p>"And what mought it be?" asked Big Medicine, as a damp chilliness crept +over him, and his face grew pinched and almost as white as his shirt +bosom.</p> + +<p>"Krofton & Kelly, the bankers, have resumed payment, and I'll get all my +money! It <i>is</i> glorious news, is it not, my friend?"</p> + +<p>Big Medicine was silent. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and +powerless. A mist drifted across his eyes. He hardly realized where he +was or what was said, but he knew all.</p> + +<p>"I have concluded to give you this house and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> all my interest in this +store. You must not refuse. I haven't time to make the transfer now, but +I'll not neglect it. Carrie and I must hasten at once to Cincinnati. The +hack is waiting; so good bye, my dear friend, God bless you!" Mr. +Golding wrung his partner's cold, limp hand, without noticing how +fearfully haggard that Roman face had suddenly grown.</p> + +<p>"Good bye, Mr. Cook," said Carrie in her sweet, sincere way. "I'm real +sorry to leave you and the dear old house—but—but—good bye, Mr. Cook. +Come to see us in Cincinnati. Good bye." She gave him her hand also.</p> + +<p>He smiled a wan, flickering smile, like the last flare of a fire whose +fuel is exhausted. Carrie's woman's heart sank under that look, though +she knew not wherefore.</p> + +<p>The hack passed round the curve of the road.</p> + +<p>They were gone!</p> + +<p>Big Medicine stood alone in the door of the corner brick. He looked back +over his shoulders at the well filled shelves and muttered:</p> + +<p>"She ain't here, and what do I want of the derned old store?"</p> + +<p>The wind rustled the elm leaves and tossed the brown locks of the man +over his great forehead; the blue birds sang on the roof; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> dust rose +in little columns along the street; and, high over head, in the yellow +mist of the fine June weather, sailed a great blue heron, going to the +lakes. Big Medicine felt like one deserted in the wilderness. He stood +there a while, then closed and locked the door and went into the woods. +A month passed before he returned. Jimtown wondered and wondered. But +when he did return his neighbors could not get a word out of him. He was +silent, moody, listless. Where had he been? Only hunting for Mr. Golding +and Carrie. He found them, after a long search, in a splendid residence +on the heights just out of Cincinnati. Mr. Golding greeted him +cordially, but somehow Big Medicine felt as though he were shaking hands +with some one over an insurmountable barrier. That was not the Mr. +Golding he had known.</p> + +<p>"Carrie is out in the garden. She will be glad to see you. Go along the +hall there. You will see the gate."</p> + +<p>Mr. Golding waved his hand after the manner of a very rich man, and a +patronizing tone would creep into his voice. Somehow Big Medicine looked +terribly uncouth.</p> + +<p>With a hesitating step and a heart full of unreal sensations, Big +Medicine opened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> little gate and strode into the flower garden. +Suddenly a vision, such as his fancy had never pictured, burst on his +dazzled eyes. Flowers and vines and statues and fountains; on every hand +rich colors; perfumes so mixed and intensified that his senses almost +gave way; long winding walks; fairy-like bowers and music. He paused and +listened. A heavy voice, rich and manly, singing a ballad—some popular +love song—to the sweet accompaniment of a violin, and blended through +it all, like a silvery thread, the low sweet voice of Carrie Golding. +The poor fellow held his breath till the song was done.</p> + +<p>Two steps forward and Big Medicine towered above the lovers.</p> + +<p>Carrie sprang to her feet with a startled cry; then, recognizing the +intruder, she held out her little hand and welcomed him. Turning to her +lover she said:</p> + +<p>"Henry, this is Mr. Cook, lately papa's partner in Indiana."</p> + +<p>The lover was a true gentleman, so he took the big hard hand of the +visitor and said he was glad to see him.</p> + +<p>Big Medicine stood for a few moments holding a hand of each of the +lovers. Presently a tremor took possession of his burly frame. He did +not speak a word. His breast swelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> and his face grew awfully white. +He put Carrie's hand in that of her lover and turned away. As he did so +a tear, a great bitter drop, rolled down his haggard cheek. A few long +strides and Big Medicine was gone.</p> + +<p>Shrilly piped the blue birds, plaintively sang the peewees, sweetly +through the elms and burr oaks by the corner brick blew the fresh summer +wind, as, just at sunset, Big Medicine once more stood in front of the +old building with his eyes fixed on the vacant, staring window.</p> + +<p>It was scarcely a minute that he stood there, but long enough for a +tender outline of the circumstances of the past year to rise in his +memory.</p> + +<p>A rustling at the broken lattice, a sudden thrill through the iron frame +of the watching man, a glimpse of a sweet face—no, it was only a fancy. +The house was still, and old and desolate. It stared at him like a +death's head.</p> + +<p>Big Medicine raised his eyes toward heaven, which was now golden and +flashing resplendently with sunset glories. High up, as if almost +touching the calm sky, a great blue heron was toiling heavily westward. +Taking the course chosen by the lone bird, Big Medicine went away, and +the places that knew him once know him no more forever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">The Venus of Balhinch.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>When I returned from Europe with a finished education, I found that my +fortune also was finished in the most approved modern style, so I left +New York and drifted westward in search of employment. At length I came +to Indiana, and, having not even a cent left, and mustering but one +presentable suit of clothes, I looked about me in a hungry, half +desperate sort of way, till I pounced upon the school in Balhinch. Now +Balhinch is not a town, nor a cross-road place, nor a post-office—it is +simply a neighborhood in the southwestern corner of Union Township, +Montgomery County—a neighborhood <i>sui generis</i>, stowed away in the +breaks of Sugar Creek, containing as good, quiet, law-abiding folk as +can be found anywhere outside of Switzerland. My school was a small one +in numbers, but the pupils ranged from four to six feet three in +altitude, and well proportioned. The most advanced class had thumbed +along pretty well through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> the spelling book. I need not take up your +time with the school, however, for it has nothing at all to do with my +story, excepting merely to explain how I came to be in Balhinch, in the +State of Indiana.</p> + +<p>My first sight of Susie Adair was on Sunday at the Methodist prayer +meeting. I was sitting with my back to a window and facing the door of +the log meeting house when she entered. It was July—a hot glary day, +but a steady wind blew cool and sweet from the southwest, bringing in +all sorts of woodland odors. The grasshoppers were chirruping in the +little timothy field hard by, and over in a bit of woodland pasture a +swarm of blue jays were worrying a crow, keeping up an incessant +squeaking and chattering. The dumpy little class leader—the only little +man in Balhinch—had just begun to give out the hymn</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Love is the sweetest bud that blows,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Its beauties never die,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On earth among the saints it grows</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And ripens in the sky," &c.,</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>when Susie came in. Ben Crane was sitting by me. He nudged me with his +elbow and whispered:</p> + +<p>"How's that 'ere for poorty?"</p> + +<p>I made him no answer, but remained staring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> at the girl till long after +she had taken her seat. Nature plays strange tricks. Susie, the daughter +of farmer Adair, was as beautiful in the face as any angel could be, and +her form was as perfect as that of the Cnidian Venus. Her motion when +she walked was music, and as she sat in statuesque repose, the +undulations of her queenly form were those of perfect ease, grace and +strength. Her hands were small and taper, a little browned from +exposure, as was also her face. Her hair was the real classic gold, and +her grey eyes were riant with health and content. When her red lips +parted to sing, they discovered small even teeth, as white as ivory. I +can give you no idea of her. Physically she was perfection's self in the +mould of a Venus of the grandest type. Her head, too, was an +intellectual one (though feminine), in the best sense of the word. The +first thought that flashed across my mind was embodied in the words—<i>A +Venus</i>—and I still think of her as the best model I ever saw.</p> + +<p>"How's that for poorty?" repeated Crane.</p> + +<p>"Who is she!" I replied interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"She's my jewlarker," said he.</p> + +<p>"Your what?"</p> + +<p>"My sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"What is her name?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>"Susie Adair."</p> + +<p>So I came to know her and admire her, and even before that little prayer +meeting was over I loved her. Introductions were an unknown institution +in Balhinch, but I was not long in finding a way to the personal +acquaintance of Susie. I found her remarkably intelligent for one of her +limited opportunities, very fond of reading, sprightly in conversation, +womanly, modest, sweet tempered, and, indeed, altogether charming as +well as superbly beautiful.</p> + +<p>As for me, I am an insignificant looking man, and then I was even more +so than now. My hair is terribly stiff and red, you know, and my eyes +are very pale blue, nearly white. My neck is very long and has a large +Adam's apple. I am small and narrow chested, and have slender bow legs. +My teeth are uneven and my nose is pug. I have a very fine thin voice, +decidedly nasal, as you perceive. One thing, however, I am well +educated, polite, and not a bad conversationalist.</p> + +<p>Susie was a most entertaining and perplexing study for me from the +start. She treated me with decided consideration and kindness, seemed +deeply interested in my accounts of my travels, asked me many questions +about the old world and good society, sat for hours at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> time listening +to me as I read aloud. In fact I felt that I was impressing her deeply, +but she would go with Ben Crane, that long, awkward, ignorant gawk. How +could a young woman of such fine magnetic presence, and endowed with +such genuine, instinctive purity of taste in everything else, bear the +presence of a rough greenhorn like that? Finally I said to myself: she +is kind and good; she cannot bear to slight Ben, though she cares +nothing for him.</p> + +<p>What a strange state being in love is! It is like dreaming in the grass. +One hears the flow of the wind—it is the breath of love—one smells the +flowers, and it is the perfume of a young cheek, the sharp fragrance of +blonde curls. What dreams I had in those days! I could scarcely endure +my school to the end of the first three months. Then I gave it up, and +collecting my wages purchased me some fine clothes—that is, fine for +the time and the place. I recollect that suit now, and wonder how a man +of my taste could have borne to wear it. A black coat, a scarlet vest +and white pants, ending with calf boots and a very tall silk hat! If you +should see me dressed that way now you would laugh till your ribs would +hurt. I do not know how true it is, but, from a pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> good source, I +heard that Ben Crane said I looked like a red-headed woodpecker. One +thing I do know, I never saw a woodpecker with a freckled face. I have a +freckled face.</p> + +<p>Ben soon recognized me as his rival and treated me with supreme +impertinence, even going so far as to rub his fist under my nose and +swear at me—a thing at which I felt profoundly indignant, and +considering which I was surely justified in sticking a lucifer match +into Ben's six valuable hay stacks one night thereafter. It was a great +fire, and two hundred dollars loss to Ben. Let him keep his fist out +from under my nose.</p> + +<p>But I must come to my story, cutting short these preliminaries. It is a +story I never tire of telling, and a story which has elicited +ejaculations from many.</p> + +<p>It was a ripe sweet day in the latter part of September—clear, but hazy +and dreamful—a prelude to the Indian summer. I stood before the glass +in my room at 'Squire Jones's, where I boarded, and very carefully +arranged my bright blue neck-tie. Then I combed my hair. I never have +got thoroughly familiar with my hair. I cannot, even now, comb it, while +looking in a glass, without cringing for fear of burning my fingers. The +long, wavy red locks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> flow through the comb like flames, and underneath +is a gleam of live coals and red hot ashes. Ben Crane said he believed +my head had set his hay stacks a-fire. Maybe it did. I wished that a +stray flash from the same source would kindle the heart of Susie Adair +and heat it until it lay under her Cytherean breasts a puddle of molten +love. I put my silk hat carefully upon my head and wriggled my hands +into a pair of kid gloves; then, walking-stick in hand, I set out to +know my fate at the hands of Susie. My way was across a stubble field in +which the young clover, sown in the spring, displayed itself in a +variety of fantastic modes. Have you ever noticed how much grass is like +water? Some one, Hawthorne, perhaps, has spoken of "a gush of violets," +and Swinburne, going into one of his musical frenzies, cries:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I have seen pools of clover and streams of timothy; I have stood ankle +deep in shoal blue grass and have watched for hours the liquid ripples +of the red top. I have seen the field sparrows dive into the green waves +of young wheat, and the black starlings wade about in the sink-foil of +southern countries.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> Grass is a liquid that washes earth's face till it +shines like that of a clean, healthy child. But clover prefers to stand +in pools and eddies, in which oft and oft I have seen the breasts of +meadow larks shine like gold, the while a few sweet notes, like rung +silver, rose and trembled above the trefoil, all woven, in and out, +through the swash of the wind's palpitant currents—a music of +unspeakable influence. Swallows skim the surface of grass just as they +do that of water. When the summer air agitates the smooth bosom of a +broad green meadow field, you will see these little random arrows +glancing along the emerald surface, cutting with barbed wings through +the tossing, bloom-capped waves, thence ricochetting high into the +bright air to whirl and fall again as swiftly as before. Many a time I +have traced streams of grass to their fresh fountains, where jets of +tender foliage and bubbles of tinted flowers welled up from dark, rich +earth, and flowed away, with a velvet rustle and a ripple like blown +floss, to break and recoil and eddy against the dark shadows of a +distant grove. Such a fountain is a place of fragrance and joy. The bees +go thither to get the sweetest honey, and find it a very Hybla. The +butterflies float about it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> in a dreamful trance, while in the cool, +damp shade of a dock leaf squats a great toad, like a slimy dragon +guarding the gate of a paradise.</p> + +<p>As I slowly walked across that stubble field, now and then stepping into +a tuft of clover, out from which a quail would start, whirling away in a +convulsion of flight, I allowed dreams of bliss to steal rosily across +my brain. I scarcely saw the great gold-sharded beetles that hummed and +glanced in the mellow sun-light. I heard like one half asleep, as if far +away, the sharp twitter of the blue bird and the tender piping of the +meadow lark. Susie Adair was all my thought. I recollect that, just as I +climbed the fence at the farther side of the clover field, I saw a white +winged, red headed woodpecker pounce upon and carry off a starry +opal-tinted butterfly, and I thought how sweet it would be if I could +thus steal away into the free regions of space the object of my gentler +passion. But then what wonderful big wings I should have needed, for my +Venus of the hollow of the hill of Balhinch was no airy thing. Her tall, +strong body and magnificent limbs equalled one hundred and forty pounds +avoirdupois! My own weight was about one hundred and twenty.</p> + +<p>As I neared Susie's home I began, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> first time in my life, to +suffer from palpitation. The shadow of a doubt floated in the autumn +sun-light. I set my teeth together and resolved not to be faint hearted. +I must go in boldly and plead my cause and win.</p> + +<p>When I reached the gate of the Adair farmhouse I had to look straight +over the head of a very large, sanctimonious-faced bull-dog to get a +view of the vine covered porch. This dog looked up at me and smiled +ineffably; then he came to the gate and stood over against me, peeping +between the slats. I hesitated. About this time Ben Crane came out of +the house with a banjo in his hand. He had been playing for Susie. He +was a natural musician.</p> + +<p>"'Feared o' the dog, Mr. Woodpecker?" said he. "Begone, Bull!" and he +kicked the big-headed canine aside so that I could go in.</p> + +<p>I heard him thrumming on his banjo far down the road as Susie met me at +the door. How wondrously beautiful she was!</p> + +<p>"Sit down Mr. ——, and, if you do not care, I'll bring the churn in and +finish getting the butter while we talk."</p> + +<p>I was delighted—I was charmed—fascinated. Susie's father had gone to a +distant village, and her mother, a gentle work-worn matron,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> was in the +other room spinning flax, humming, meantime, snatches of camp meeting +hymns. The sound of that spinning-wheel seemed to me strangely mournful +and sad, but Susie's deep, clear gray eyes and cheerful voice were the +very soul of joyousness, health and youth. She brought in a great +fragrant cedar churn, made to hold six or eight gallons of cream, and +forthwith began her labor. She stood as she worked, and the exercise +throwing her entire body into gentle but well-defined motion, displayed +all the riches of her contour. The sleeves of her calico gown were +rolled up above the elbows, leaving her plump, muscular arms bare, and +her skirt was pinned away from her really small feet and shapely ankles +in such a way as to give one an idea, a suggestion, of supreme innocence +and grace. Her long, crinkled gold hair was unbound, hanging far below +her waist, and shining like silk. Her lips, carmine red, seemed to +overflow with tender utterances.</p> + +<p>Ever since that day I have thought churning a kind of sacred, charmingly +blessed work, which ought to be, if really it is not, the pastime of +those delightful beings the ancients called deities. Cream is more +fragrant, more delicious, more potent than nectar or ambrosia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> A cedar +churn is more delicately perfumed than any patera of the gods. And, I +say it with reverence, I have seen, swaying lily-like above the churn, a +beauty more perfect than that which bloomed full grown from the bright +focus of the sea's ecstatic travail.</p> + +<p>What a talk Susie and I had that day! Slowly, stealthily I crept nearer +and nearer to the subject burning in my heart. I watched Susie closely, +for her face was an enigma to me. I never think of her and of that day +without recalling Baudelaire's dream of a giantess. More happy than the +poet, I really saw my colossal beauty stand full grown before me, but, +like him, I wondered—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">* * * "Si son cœur couve une sombre flamme</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I could not tell, from any outward sign, what was going on in her heart. +No sphinx could have been more utterly calm and mysterious. She had a +most baffling way about her, too. When at last I had reached the point +of a confession of my maddening love, she broke into one of my +charmingest sentences to say—</p> + +<p>"Mr. ——, you'd better move farther away from the churn or I might +spatter your clothes."</p> + +<p>This, somehow, disconcerted and bothered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> me. But Susie was so calm and +sweet about it, her gray eyes beamed so mysteriously innocent of any +impropriety, that I soon regained my lost eloquence.</p> + +<p>How sharply and indelibly cut in my memory, like intaglios in ivory, the +surroundings of that scene, even to the minutest detail! For instance, I +can see as plainly as then my new silk hat on the floor between my +knees, containing a red handkerchief and a paper of chewing tobacco. I +recall, also, that a slip-trod shoe lay careened to one side near the +centre of the room. The bull-dog came to the door and peeped solemnly in +a time or two. A string of dried pumpkin cuts hung by the fireplace, and +under a small wooden table in one corner were piled a few balls of +"carpet rags." I sat in a very low chair. A picture of George Washington +hung above a small square window. The floor was ash boards uncarpeted. I +heard some chickens clucking and cackling under the house.</p> + +<p>Finally, I recollect it as if it were but yesterday, I said:</p> + +<p>"I love you, Susie—I love you, and I have loved you ever since I first +saw you!"</p> + +<p>How tame the words sound now! but then they came forth in a tremulous +murmur that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> gave them character and power. Susie looked straight at me +a moment, and I thought I saw a softer light gather in her eyes. Then +she took away the churn dasher and lid and fetched a large bowl from a +cupboard. What a fine golden pile of butter she fished up into the bowl!</p> + +<p>I drew my chair somewhat nearer, and watched her pat and roll and +squeeze the plastic mass with the cherry ladle. A little gray kitten +came and rubbed and purred round her. Again the bull-dog peeped in. A +breeze gathered some force and began to ripple pleasantly through the +room. Far away in the fields I heard the quails whistling to each other. +An old cow strolled up the lane by the house and round the corner of the +orchard, plaintively tinkling her bell. Steadily hummed Mrs. Adair's +spinning wheel. I slipped my hat and my chair a little closer to Susie, +and by a mighty effort directed my burning words straight to the point. +I cannot repeat all I said. I would not if I could. Such things are +sacred.</p> + +<p>"Susie, I love you, madly, blindly, dearly, truly! O, Susie! will you +love me—will you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>Again she turned on me that strange, sweet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> half smiling look. Her lips +quivered. The flush on her cheeks almost died out.</p> + +<p>"Answer me, Susie, and say you will make me happy."</p> + +<p>She walked to the cupboard, put away the bowl of butter and the ladle, +then came back and stood by the churn and me. How indescribably charming +she looked! She smiled strangely and made a motion with her round strong +arms. I answered the movement. I spread wide my arms and half rose to +clasp her to my bosom. A whole life was centred in the emotion of that +moment. Susie's arms missed me and lifted the churn. I sank back into my +chair. How gracefully Susie swayed herself to her immense height, toying +with the ponderous churn held far above her head. I saw a kitten fairly +fly out of the room, its tail as level as a gun barrel; I saw the +bull-dog's face hastily withdraw from the door; I saw the carpet balls, +the pumpkin cuts and the print of Washington all through a perpendicular +cataract of deliciously fragrant buttermilk! I saw my hat fill up to the +brim, with my handkerchief afloat. I heaved an awful sigh and leaped to +my feet. I saw old Mrs. Adair standing in the partition door, with her +arms akimbo, and heard her say—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>"W'y, Susan Jane Samantha Ann! What 'pon airth hev ye done?"</p> + +<p>And the Venus replied:</p> + +<p>"I've been givin' this 'ere little woodpecker a good dose of +buttermilk!"</p> + +<p>I seized my hat and shuffled out of the door, feeling the milk gush from +the tops of my boots at each hasty step I made. I ran to the gate, went +through and slammed it after me. As I did so I heard a report like the +closing of a strong steel trap. It was the bull-dog's teeth shutting on +a slat of the gate as he made a dive at me from behind. I smiled grimly, +thinking how I'd taste served in buttermilk.</p> + +<p>On my way home I passed Ben Crane's house. He was sitting at a window +playing his banjo, and singing in a stentorian voice:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"O! Woodpecker Jim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yer chance is mighty slim!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Jest draw yer red head into yer hole</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And there die easy, dern your soul,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O! slim Woodpecker Jim!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I was so mad that I sweat great drops of pure buttermilk, but over in +the fields the quails whistled just as clear and sweet as ever, and I +heard the wind pouring through the stubble as it always does in autumn!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">The Legend of Potato Creek.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>Big yellow butterflies were wheeling about in the drowsy summer air, and +hovering above the moist little sand bars of Potato Creek. A shady dell, +wrapped in the hot lull of August, sent up the spires and domes of its +walnut and poplar trees, clearly defined, and sheeny, while underneath +the forest roof the hazel and wild rose bushes had wrung themselves into +dusky mats. The late violets bloomed here and there, side by side with +those waxlike yellow blossoms, called by the country folk "butter and +eggs." Through this dell Potato Creek meandered fantastically, washing +bare the roots of a few gnarled sycamores, and murmuring among the small +bowlders that almost covered its bed. It was not a strikingly romantic +or picturesque place—rather the contrary—much after the usual type of +ragged little dells. "A scrubby little holler" the neighborhood folk +called it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>Perched on the topmost tangle of the dry, tough roots of an old upturned +tree, sat little Rose Turpin, sixteen that very August day; pretty, nay +beautiful, her school life just ended, her womanhood just beginning to +clothe her face and form in that mysterious mantle of tenderness—the +blossom, the flower that brings the rich sweet fruit of love. From her +high perch she leaned over and gazed down into the clear water of the +creek and smiled at the gambols of the minnows that glanced here and +there, now in shadowy swarms and anon glancing singly, like sparks of +dull fire, in the limpid current. Some small cray-fishes, too, delighted +her with their retrograde and side-wise movements among the variegated +pebbles at the bottom of the water. A small sketch book and a case of +pencils lay beside her. So busy was she with her observations, that a +fretful, peevish, but decidedly masculine voice near by startled her as +if from a doze. She had imagined herself so utterly alone.</p> + +<p>"Wo-erp 'ere, now can't ye! Wo, I say! Turn yer ole head roun' this way +now, blast yer ole picter! No foolin', now; wo-erp, I tell ye!"</p> + +<p>Rose was so frightened at first that she seemed about to rise in the air +and fly away;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> but her quick glance in the direction of the sound +discovered the speaker, who, a few rods further down the creek, stood +holding the halter rein of a forlorn looking horse in one hand, and in +the other a heavy woodman's axe.</p> + +<p>"Wo-erp, now! I hate like the nation to slatherate ye; but I said I'd do +it if ye didn't get well by this August the fifteenth; an' shore 'nuff, +here ye are with the fistleo gittin' wus and wus every day o' yer life. +So now ye may expect ter git what I tole ye! Stan' still now, will ye, +till I knock the life out'n ye!"</p> + +<p>By this time Rose had come to understand the features of the situation. +The horse was sadly diseased with that scourge of the equine race, +scrofulous shoulder or fistula, commonly called, among the country folk, +fistleo, and because the animal could not get well the man was on the +point of killing it by knocking it on the head with the axe.</p> + +<p>Of all dumb things a horse was Rose's favorite. She had always, since +her very babyhood, loved horses.</p> + +<p>"Wo-wo-wo-erp, here! Ha'n't ye got no sense at all? Ding it, how d'ye +'spect me to hit yer blamed ole head when ye keep it a waggin' 'round in +that sort o' style? Wo-erp!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>The fellow had tied the halter rein around a sapling about two feet from +the ground, and was now preparing to deal the horse a blow with the axe +between its eyes. The animal seemed unaware of any danger, but kept its +head going from side to side, trying to fight certain bothersome +gad-flies.</p> + +<p>"O, sir, stop; don't, don't; please, sir, don't!" cried the girl, her +sweet voice breaking into silvery echo fragments in every nook of the +little hollow.</p> + +<p>The man gazed all around, and, seeing no one, let fall the axe by his +side. The birds, taking advantage of the silence, lifted a twittering +chorus through the dense dark tops of the trees. The slimmest breath of +air languidly caressed the leaves of the rose vines. The bubbling of the +brook seemed to touch a mellower key, and the yellow butterflies settled +all together on a little sand bar, their bright wings shut straight and +sharp above their bodies. The man seemed intently listening. "Tw'an't +mammy's voice, nohow," he muttered; "but I'd like to know who 'twas, +though."</p> + +<p>He stood a moment longer, as if in doubt, then again raising his axe he +continued:</p> + +<p>"Must 'a' been a jay bird squeaked. Wo-erp 'ere now! I'm not goin' to +fool wi' ye all day, so hold yer head still!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>That was a critical moment for the lean, miserable horse. It lowered its +head and held it quite still. The axe was steadily poised in the air. +The man's face wore a look of determination—grim, stone-like. He was, +perhaps, twenty-five, tall and bony, with a countenance sallow almost to +greenness, sunken pale blue eyes, sun burnt hair, thin flaxy beard, and +irregular, half decayed teeth. Although his body and limbs were shrunken +to the last degree of attenuation, still the big cords of his neck and +wrists stood out taut, suggesting great strength. The blow would be a +terrible one. The horse would die almost without a struggle.</p> + +<p>"O, O, O! Indeed, sir, you must not! Stop that, sir, instantly! You +shall not do it, sir! O, sir!"</p> + +<p>And fluttering down from her perch, Rose flew to the spot where the +tragedy was pending, and cast herself pale and trembling between the +horse and its would-be executioner.</p> + +<p>The axe fell from the man's hands.</p> + +<p>His eyes became exactly circular.</p> + +<p>His under jaw dropped so that his mouth was open to its fullest gaping +capacity. His shoulders fell till their points almost met in front of +his sunken chest. He was a picture of overwhelming surprise.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>"An' what in thunder do you want of him? What good's he goin' to do you? +'Cause, you see, he can't work nor be rid on nor nothin'."</p> + +<p>"O never mind, sir, just please give him to me and I'll take him and +care for him. Poor horsey! Poor horsey! See, he loves me already!"</p> + +<p>The beast had thrust its nose against the maiden's hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know 'bout this. I'd as soon 'at you have 'im as not if I +hadn't swore to kill 'im, an' I musn't lie to 'im. An' besides, I've had +sich a pesky derned time wi' 'im 'at it looks kinder mean 'at I +shouldn't have the satisfaction of bustin' his head for it. I'm goin' to +knock 'im, an' ye jist mought as well stan' aside!"</p> + +<p>Just then the peculiarities of the man's character were written on his +face. His nose denoted pugnacity, his lips sensuality, but not of a base +sort, his eyes ignorance and rough kindness, his chin firmness, his jaw +tenacity of purpose, and his complexion the ague. He had sworn to kill +the horse, and kill him he would. You could see that in the very +wrinkles of his neck. He evidently felt that it was a duty he owed to +his conscience—a duty made doubly imperative by the horse's refusal to +get well by the exact time prescribed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>High up on the dead spire of a walnut tree a woodpecker began to beat a +long, rattling tattoo. The horse very lazily and innocently winked his +brown eyes, and putting forth his nose sniffed at the skirt of the +girl's dress.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad—O I'm ever so glad you'll not kill him!" murmured the little +lady when she saw the axe fall to the ground.</p> + +<p>The man stood a long moment, as if petrified or frozen into position, +then somewhat recovering, he re-seized the axe, and flourishing it high +in the air, cried in a voice that, cracked and shrill, rang petulantly +through the woods:</p> + +<p>"I said I'd kill 'im if that garglin' oil didn't cure 'im, 'an I'm +derned ef I don't, too!"</p> + +<p>"O, sir, if you please! The poor horse is not to blame!" exclaimed the +excited girl.</p> + +<p>"'Taint no use o' beggin'; he's no 'count but to jist eat up corn, an' +hay, an' paster an' the likes; and his blasted fistleo gits wus an' wus +all the time. An't I spent more'n he's wo'th a tryin' to cure 'm, an' +don't everybody laugh at me 'cause I've got sich a derned ole slummux of +a hoss? Jist blame my picter if I'll stand it! So now you've hearn me +toot my tin horn, an' ye may as well stan' out'n the way!"</p> + +<p>"But, sir, I'll take him off your hands, may I? Say, sir? O please let +me take him!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>While he stood with his axe raised, Rose was very diligently and +nervously tugging at the knot that fastened the halter rein to the tree, +and ere he was aware of her intent, she had untied it and was resolutely +leading the poor old animal away.</p> + +<p>The man's eyes got longest the short way as he gazed at the retreating +figure.</p> + +<p>"Well now, that's as cool as a cowcumber and twicet as juicy! Gal, ye'r' +a brick! ye'r' a knot! Ye'r' a born pacer! Take 'im 'long for all I +keer! Take 'im 'long!"</p> + +<p>He put down his axe, placed his hands against his sides and smiled, as +he spoke, a big wrinkling smile that covered the whole of his sallow, +skinny face and ran clear down to the neck band of his homespun shirt.</p> + +<p>"Pluck, no eend to it!" he muttered; "wonder who she is? +Poorty—geeroody!"</p> + +<p>The wild birds sang a triumphant hymn, the breeze freshened till the +whole woods rustled, and louder still rose the bubbling of the stream +among its bowlders.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll jist be dorged! The poortiest gal in all Injianny! An' she's +tuck my ole hoss whether or no! She's a knot! Sort o' a cool proceedin', +it 'pears to me, but she's orful welcome to the hoss! Howdsomever it's +mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> much of a joke on me, 'r my name's not Zach Jones!"</p> + +<p>He laughed long and loud. The birds laughed, too, and still the wind +freshened.</p> + +<p>The girl and the horse had quickly disappeared behind the hazel and +papaw bushes. Zach Jones was alone with his axe and his reflections.</p> + +<p>"Yender's where she sot—right up yender on that ole clay root. She must +'a' been a fishin', I reckon."</p> + +<p>Another admiring chuckle.</p> + +<p>He went to the spot and clambered up among the roots. There lay Rose's +sketch book and pencil case. He took up the book and curiously turned +the leaves, his eyes running with something like childish delight over +the flowers and bits of landscape. He had never before seen a drawing.</p> + +<p>"Poorty as the gal 'erself, 'most," he said, "an' seein' 'at she's tuck +my ole hoss, I spose I'll have to take these 'ere jimcracks o' her'n. +I'll take 'em 'long anyhow, jist to 'member her by!"</p> + +<p>This argument seemed logical and conclusive, and with a quick glance +over his shoulder he crammed book and pencil case into the capacious +depths of the side pocket of his pants.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>"Now then it's about time for my chill, an' I'd better go home. Hang the +luck; s'pose I'll allus have the ager!" This last sentence was uttered +in a tone of comical half despair, and accompanied by a facial +contortion possible to no one but a person thoroughly saturated with +ague in its chronic form.</p> + +<p>After he left the dell, Zach had a hot walk across a clover field before +he reached the dilapidated log house where he lived with his widowed +mother. In a short time his chill set in, and it was a fearful one. His +teeth chattered and his bony frame rattled like a bundle of dry sticks +in a strong wind. After it had shaken him thus for about an hour, his +brother Sammy, a lad of ten years, came in with a jug of buttermilk +brought from a neighbor's.</p> + +<p>"Mammy, 'ere's yer buttermilk," said he, setting the jug on the floor. +"Shakin' like forty—a'n't ye, Zach? he added, glancing with a sad, +lugubrious smile at his brother; then, changing his tone and also his +countenance, he continued, with a broader grin: "Bet ye a dollar ye +can't guess what I seed over to 'Squire Martin's!"</p> + +<p>"No, nor I don't care a cuss; so put off an' don't come yawpin' round +me!" replied Zach.</p> + +<p>"Yes ye do, too; an' I know ye do, for 'twas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> yer ole fistleo hoss. That +'ere fine gal 'at stays over there is havin' a man wash 'im an' doctor +'im." Sammy winked and hitched up his pants as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Do say, Sammy, is that so, now?" cried the widow, holding up her hands. +"How on 'arth come she by the hoss? Zach, I thought you'd killed that +creater'!"</p> + +<p>"Mammy, ef you an' Sammy'll jist let me 'joy this 'ere ager in peace +I'll be orful 'bleeged to ye," said Zach, making his chair creak and +quiver with the ecstasy of his convulsion.</p> + +<p>But Sammy's tongue would go. He thought he had a "good 'un" on Zach, and +nothing short of lightning could have killed him quick enough to prevent +his telling it.</p> + +<p>"The gal says as how Zach gin 'er the ole hoss for to 'member 'im by!" +he blurted out, shying briskly from Zach's foot, which otherwise would +have landed him in the door yard.</p> + +<p>"Lookee here now, Zach, you jist try the likes o' that ag'in an' I'll +give ye sich a broom-stickin' as ye a'n't had lately. Ye mought 'a' +injured the child's insides!" and as she spoke the widow flourished the +broom.</p> + +<p>So Zach dropped his head upon his chest and employed himself exclusively +with his chill. When his mother was not looking at him, however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> he +would occasionally slip the sketch book partly out of his pocket and +peep between its leaves. When his fever came on he got "flighty" and +horrified the widow with talk about an angel on a clay root and a sweet +little "hoss thief" from whom he had stolen the "picters!"</p> + +<p>I cannot exactly say how Zach got to going over to 'Squire Martin's so +often after this. But his first visit was a compulsory one. His mother +happening to discover his possession of the sketch book and pencil case, +made him return them with his own hand to Rose. He at once became deeply +interested in the progress of his former patient's convalescence; for, +strange to say, the poor horse began almost immediately to get well, and +in two months was sound, glossy and fat. Nor was he an ill-looking +animal. On the contrary, when Rose sat on his back and stroked his mane, +he arched his neck and pawed the ground like a thoroughbred.</p> + +<p>'Squire Martin was a good man, and seeing how Zach seemed to enjoy +Rose's company, he one day took the girl aside and said to her:</p> + +<p>"You must be somewhat of a doctor, my dear, seeing how you've touched up +the old hoss, and I propose for you to try your hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> on another +subject. There's poor Zach Jones, who's had the chills for six or eight +years as constant as sunrise and sunset, and no medicine can't do him +any good. Now I'll be bound if you'll try you can cure him sound and +well. All you need to do in the world is to pet him up some'at as you +have the ole hoss. Jist take a little interest in the feller an' he'll +come out all right. All he wants is to forget he ever had the ager and +take some light exercise and have some fun. Fun is the only medicine to +cure the chills with. Quinine is no 'count but to make a racket in a +feller's head, and calomel'll kill 'im, sure. Now I propose to let Zach +have a hoss and saddle and you must go out a riding with 'im and try to +divert his mind from his sorrows and aches and pains—now that's a good +girl, Rosie."</p> + +<p>Rose, whose healthful, impulsive, generous nature would not allow her to +refuse so well intended and withal so small a request, readily agreed to +do all she could in the matter, and very soon thereafter she and Zach +were the very best of friends, taking long rides together through +woodlands and up and down the pleasant lanes of 'Squire Martin's broad +estates. The young girl soon found the companionship of Zach, novel and +most awkward as it was at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> first, agreeable and almost charming in its +freshness and sincerity. As for Zach himself, he was the girl's slave +from the start. He could not do too much for her in his earnest, +respectful way. Women are always tyrants, and their tyranny seems to be +inversely as their size and directly as the size of the man upon whom it +is exerted. Rose was a very little chit of a maiden, and Zach was a +great big bony frame of a fellow. The result, of course, was despotism. +But, although Zach was a democrat, he seemed to like the oppression, and +ran after big-winged butterflies, opened gates, pulled down and put up +innumerable fences, climbed trees after empty bird nests, gathered +flowers and ferns—did everything, in fact, required of him by his +little queen. He became a daily visitor at the 'Squire's, and seemed to +have entirely forgotten everything else or utterly submerged it in his +unselfish devotion to the girl. The good 'Squire saw this with unbounded +delight.</p> + +<p>So August quietly drifted by, and September hung its yellow banner on +the corn and said farewell with a sigh that had in it a smack of winter.</p> + +<p>Rose's parents were wealthy and lived in Indianapolis, and now came the +time for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> girl's return to her city home. Meanwhile a remarkable +change had taken place in the health and spirits of Zach Jones. The ague +had departed, the sallowness was gone from his skin, somewhat of flesh +had gathered on his cheeks, and in his eyes shone a cheerful light. He +was straight and almost plump, and his hair and beard had assumed a +gloss and liveliness they had never before known. He had thrown away +quinine and calomel, and his sleep at night was soft and sweet, broken +only by fair, happy dreams, that lingered long after he was awake. At +home his mother had far less trouble with him, and Sammy never got a +kick even if he did occasionally mention old fistleo in an equivocal +way. The amount of provender it required to satisfy Zach's appetite now +was a constant source of amazement to the widow.</p> + +<p>The evening preceding Rose's departure was a fine one. The woods were +gold, the sky was turquoise. Instead of riding, as usual, the young +people took a stroll in the 'Squire's immense orchard. The apples were +ripe and ready to be gathered into the cellars; their mellow fragrance +flavored the autumn air so delicately that Zach said it smelt sweeter +than an oven full of sugar cakes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>When the young folk returned from their walk the 'Squire was standing on +the door step of his house. His quick eyes caught a glimpse of something +unsatisfactory in the faces of the approaching couple—Zach, +particularly, despite his evident effort to choke down something, +discovered unmistakable signs of suffering. Rose was simply sober and +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"What now, Zach?" asked the 'Squire, "sick, eh?" "D'know; guess I'm in +for a shake; wish to the Lord it'd shake my back bone clean out'n me!" +was the reply, in a queer gurgling voice. A bunch of fall roses fell +from his vest button-hole, but he did not pick it up. A hot flush, in +the midst of a ghastly pallor, burned on the cheeks of the speaker. Rose +tapped the ground with the toe of her kid boot, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>The man and the girl stood there close together awhile, and the 'Squire +did not catch what they said as they shook hands and parted. When Zach +had gone home the 'Squire told Rose that he wished she would stay a +little longer, till the ague season was over, just on Zach's account. +Rose quietly replied, "I have already stayed too long;" but her voice +had an infinity of pity and sorrow in it that the 'Squire did not +detect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>Next morning Rose went home to the city and soon after made a brilliant +<i>debut</i> in society, for she was really a charming little thing. That +winter was a festive one—a season of great social activity—and some of +its most direct and prominent results were a few notable marriages in +the spring, among which was that of Rose to a banker of P——, Kentucky, +the happy union being consummated in May.</p> + +<p>On the very day of her wedding Rose received from her uncle the +following note:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Dear Niece</span>:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Come to see us, even if you won't stay but one day. Come right +off, if you're a Christian girl. Zach Jones is dying of +consumption and is begging to see you night and day. He says +he's got something on his mind he wants to say to you, and when +he says it he can die happy. The poor fellow is monstrous bad +off, and I think you ought to be sure and come. We're all well. +Your loving uncle,</p> + +<p class="bqright">"<span class="smcap">Jared Martin.</span>"</p> + +<p>Something in this homely letter so deeply affected Rose that she +prevailed on her husband, a few days after their marriage, to take her +to 'Squire Martin's.</p> + +<p>It was nearly sundown when the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> wife, accompanied by the 'Squire, +entered the room of the dying man. He lay on a low bed by an open +window, through which, with hollow hungry eyes, he was gazing into the +blue distance that is called the sky of May. Birds were singing in the +trees all around the house, and a cool breath of violet-scented air +rippled through the window. The widow Jones, worn out with watching by +the sick bed, sat sleeping in her rude arm-chair; Sammy had gone after +the cow—a gift from the 'Squire.</p> + +<p>The visitors entered softly, but Zach heard them and feebly turned his +head. He put out a bloodless hand and clasped the warm fingers of Rose, +pulling her into a seat by his couch. A wan smile flitted across his +face as he fixed his eyes, burning like sparks in the gray ash of a +spent fire, on hers, dewy with rising tears.</p> + +<p>"The same little Rose you use to wus," he said, in a low faltering +voice, that had in it an unconquerable allegiance to the one dream of +his manhood. His unnaturally bright eyes ran swiftly over her face and +form, then closed, as if to fasten the vision within, that it might +follow him to eternity.</p> + +<p>"The same little Rose you use to wus," he repeated, "only now you're +picked off the vine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> an' nobody can't touch ye but the owner. I'm a +poor, no 'count dyin' man, Rose, but you'll never——." His voice choked +a little and he did not finish the sentence. Perhaps he thought it were +better not finished.</p> + +<p>A few moments of utter silence followed, during which, faintly, far out +in the field behind the house, was heard the childish voice of Sammy, +singing an old hymn, two lines of which were most distinctly heard by +those in the house.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"This world's a wilderness of woe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This world it ain't my home,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>chimed in the trembling voice of the sick man. Then, by an effort that +evidently taxed his fading powers to the last degree, he fixed his eyes +firmly on those of the young woman. Here was a martyr of the divine +sort, true and unchangeable in the flame of the torture.</p> + +<p>"Rose, little Rose," he said, glancing uneasily at the 'Squire, "I've +got something private like to say to you."</p> + +<p>The young woman trembled. Memory was at work.</p> + +<p>"'Squire, go out a minute, will ye?" continued Zach.</p> + +<p>The sick man's request was promptly obeyed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> and Rose sat, drooping, +alone beside the bed, while the widow snored away.</p> + +<p>Zach now more nervously clasped the hand of the young woman. A spot of +faint sunshine glimmered on the pillow close by the man's head. The +out-door sounds of the wind in the young grass, and the rustle of the +new soft leaves of the trees, crept into the room gently, as if not to +drown the low voice of the dying man.</p> + +<p>"It's been on my mind ever since we parted, Rose, and I ort 'a' said it +then, but I choked an' couldn't; but I kin say it now and I will." He +paused a moment and Rose looked pitifully at him. His chin was thrust +out firmly and his lips had a determined set. He looked just as he did +when about to knock the poor old horse on the head over in the dell that +day. How vividly the tragic situation was recalled in Rose's mind!</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will say it now, so I will," he resumed. "Since things turned +out jist as they have, Rose, I do wish I'd 'a' paid no 'tention to ye +an' jist gone on and knocked that derned ole fistleoed hoss so dead 'at +he'd 'a' never kicked—I do—I do, 'i hokey! I don't want to make ye +feel bad, but I'm goin' away now, an' it 'pears to me like as if I'd go +easy if I know'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> you'd——." He turned away his face and drew just one +little fluttering breath. When, after only a few minutes' absence, the +'Squire came in, the widow still slept, the sweet air still rippled +through the room, but Rose held a dead hand; Zach was at rest! The +'Squire placed his hand on the bright hair of Rose and gazed mournfully +down into the pinched, pallid face of the dead. How awfully calm a dead +face is!</p> + +<p>The widow stirred in her chair, groaned, and awoke. For a moment she +bent her eyes wonderingly, inquiringly on the young woman; then, rising, +she clasped her in her great bony arms.</p> + +<p>"You are the Rose, the little Rose he's been goin' on so about. O, +honey, I'm orful glad you've come. You ort jist to 'a' heerd him talk +about ye when he got flighty like——but O—O—my! O Lor'! Zach—Zachy, +dear! O, Miss, O, he's dead—he's dead!"</p> + +<p>"Dead, yes, dead!" echoed the 'Squire, his words dropping with the +weight of lead.</p> + +<p>Across the fields of young green wheat ran waves of the spring wind, +murmuring and sighing, while the dust of blossoms wheeled, and rose and +fell in the last soft rays of the going sun. A big yellow butterfly +flitted through the room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>Presently Sammy entered. He came in like a gust of wind, making things +rattle with his impetuous motion.</p> + +<p>"O, mammy! O, Zach! I's got s'thin' to tell ye, an' I'll bet a biscuit +you can't guess what 't is!" he cried breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"O, Sammy, honey, O, dear!" groaned the widow.</p> + +<p>"S-s-h!" said the 'Squire solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I jist wanted 'm to guess," replied Sammy, "for it's awful +doggone cur'u's 'at——"</p> + +<p>"S-s-h!"</p> + +<p>"The fistleo is broke out on Zach's ole hoss ten times as wuss as ever!"</p> + +<p>"S-s-s-s-h!"</p> + +<p>"It's so, for I seed it. It's layin' down over in the hollow by 'tater +creek, where the ole clay root is, an' its jist about to d——."</p> + +<p>"S-s-h!"</p> + +<p>The child caught a glimpse of the face and was struck mute. And darkness +stole athwart the earth, but the morrow's sun drove it away. Never, +however, did any sun or any season chase from the heart of little Rose +the shadow that was the memory of the man who died in that cabin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">Stealing a Conductor.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>He shambled into the bar-room of the hotel at Thorntown, a Boone County +village, and, with a bow and a hearty "how-de do to you all," took the +only vacant chair. He scratched a match and lighted his pipe. "Now we'll +be bored with some sort of a long-winded story," whispered some to +others of the loungers present. "Never knowed him to fail," said a lank +fellow, almost loud enough for the subject to hear. "He's our travelled +man," added a youth, who winked as if he were extremely intelligent and +didn't mind letting folks know it.</p> + +<p>The man himself whiffed away carelessly at his pipe, now and then +raising one eye higher than the other, to take a sort of side survey of +the persons present. That eye was not long in settling upon me, and +after a short, searching look, gleamed in a well pleased way. He was a +stout formed man of about fifty years, dressed rather seedily, and +wearing a plug hat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> of enormous height, the crown of which was battered +into the last degree of grotesqueness. He got right up, and, dragging +his chair behind him, came over and settled close down in front of me.</p> + +<p>"Stranger here, a'n't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Your name's Fuller, a'n't it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, mebbe I'm mistaken, but you're just the picter o' Fuller. Never +was a conductor on a railroad, was you?"</p> + +<p>"Never, sir."</p> + +<p>"Never was down in the swamps o' South-Eastern Georgy, was you?"</p> + +<p>"Never, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, that beats four aces! I could 'a' bet on your bein' Fuller." He +paused a moment, and then added in a very insinuating tone: "If you +<i>are</i> Fuller you needn't be afeard to say so, for I don't hold any +grudge 'gin you about that little matter. Now, sure enough, a'n't your +name Fuller, in fact?"</p> + +<p>I glared at the man a moment, hesitating about whether or not I should +plant my fist in his eye. But something of almost child-like simplicity +and sincerity beaming from his face restrained me. Surely the fellow did +not wish to be as impudent as his words would imply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>"Well, stranger, I see I've got to explain, but the story's not overly +long," said he, hitching up a little closer to me and settling himself +comfortably.</p> + +<p>I was about to get up and walk out of the room, when some one of the +by-sitters filliped a little roll of paper to me. Unrolling it I read—</p> + +<p>"Let him go on, he'll give you a lively one. He's a brick."</p> + +<p>So, concluding that possibly I might be entertained, I lounged back in +my seat.</p> + +<p>"You see," said he, "I thought you was Fuller, an' Fuller was the only +conductor I ever stole."</p> + +<p>"Stole a conductor," whispered somebody, "that's a new one!"</p> + +<p>"I've stole a good many things in my time, but I'm here to bet that no +other living Hoosier ever stole a railroad conductor, an' Fuller was the +only one I ever stole. I stole him slicker 'n a eel. I had him 'fore he +knowed it, and you jist better bet he was one clean beat conductor fore +I was done wi' 'im.</p> + +<p>"I kin tell you the whole affair in a few minutes, and I da' say you'll +laugh a good deal 'fore I'm through. You see I went down to Floridy for +my health, and when I had about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> recivered I got onto a bum in +Jacksonville and spent all my money and everything else but my very +oldest suit o' clothes and my pistol, a Colt's repeater, ten inch +barrel. None o' you can't tell how a feller feels in a predicament o' +that sort. Somethin' got into my throat 'bout as big as a egg, and I +felt kinder moist about the eyes when I had to stare the fact in the +face that I was nigh onto, or possibly quite a thousand miles from home +without ary a dime in my pocket. But if there's one thing I do have more +'n another in my nater it's common sense grit. Well, what you s'pose I +done? W'y I jest lit out for home afoot. Well, sir, the derndest swamps +is them Floridy and Georgy swamps. It's ra'lly all one swamp—the +Okeefenokee. I follered the railroad that goes up to Savanny, and it led +me deeper and deeper into the outlying fringes of that terrible old bog. +When I had travelled a considerable distance into Georgy, and had pretty +well wore my feet off up to my ankle j'ints, and was about as close onto +starvation as a 'tater failure in Ireland, and when my under lip had got +to hanging down like the skirt o' a wore out saddle, and when every step +seemed like it'd be my last, I jest got clean despairing like and +concluded to pray a little. So I got down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> upon my knee j'ints and put +up a most extra-ornary supplication. I felt every word o' it, too, in +all the marrer of my bones. The place where I was a prayin' was a sort +o' hummock spot in a mighty bad part o' the swamp. Some awful tall pines +towered stupenjisly above me. Well, jest as I was finished, and was a +saying amen, the lordy mercy what a yowl something did give right over +me in a tree! I think I jumped as high as your head, stranger, and come +down flat-footed onto a railroad cross tie. Whillikins, how I was +scared! It was one o' them whooping owls they have down there. It was +while I was a running from that 'ere owl a thinkin' it was a panther, +that the thought struck me somewhere in the back o' the head that I +might steal a ride to Savanny on the first train 'at might pass. 'I'll +try it!' says I, and so I sot right down there in the swamp and calmly +waited for a train. In about a hour here come one, like the de'il a +braking hemp, jist more'n a roaring through the swamp. I forgot to tell +you 'at it was after dark, but the moon was dimly a shining through the +fog that covers everything there o' nights. Well, here come the train, +and as she passed I made a lunge at the hind platform of the last car +and some how or another got onto it and away I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> went. It was mighty much +softer 'n walking, I tell you, and I was pleased as a monkey with a red +cap on. My, how fast that train did go! I could hardly hold onto where I +wus. You may jist bet I clung on though, and finally I got myself +setting down on the steps and then I was all hunkey. But I didn't have +much time to enjoy myself there, though, for all of a sudden the light +of a lantern shined on me and then somebody touched me and said—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket!'</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you don't know how onery a feller'll feel sometimes when he hears +that 'ere word ticket—'specially when he a'n't got no ticket nor no +money to pay his fare, and too, when he does want to ride a little of +the derndest! That was my fix! I'd 'a' give a thousand dollars for a +half dollar!</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket!'</p> + +<p>"He shook me a little this time and held his lantern down low, so's to +see into my face. I know I must 'a' looked like the de'il.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket here, quick!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'I've done paid,' said I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Show your check then.'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Lost it,' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Money, then, quick!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Got none,' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>'What the —— did you git onto my train for without ticket or money? +How do you expect to travel without paying, you —— lousy vagabond! You +can't steal from me; out with your —— wallet and gi' me the money! +Hurry up!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'A'n't got no wallet nor no money,' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Well, I'll dump you off right here, then,' said he, reaching for the +bell-rope to stop the train.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'For the Lord's sake let me ride to Savanny!' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'A dam Northerner, I know from your voice!' said he, pulling the rope. +The train began to slack and soon stopped.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Get off!' said the conductor.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Please l'me ride!' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Off with you!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Jist a few miles here on the steps!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Off, quick!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Please——'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Here you go!' and as he said the words he tried to kick me off.</p> + +<p>"In a second I was like a Bengal tiger. I jumped up and gethered him and +we went at it. I'm as good as ever fluttered, and pretty soon I give him +one flat on the nose, and we both went off 'n the platform together. As +I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> started off I happened to think of it, so I grabbed up and pulled the +bell-rope to signal the engineer to drive on. 'Hoot-toot!' says the +whistle, and away lick-to-split went the train, and slashy-to-splashy, +rattle-o-bangle, kewoppyty-whop, bump, thud! down me and that 'ere +conductor come onto a pile o' wore out cross ties in the side ditch, and +there we laid a fightin'!</p> + +<p>"But you jest bet it didn't take me long to settle <i>him</i>. He soon began +to sing out ''nuff! 'nuff! take 'm off!' and so I took him by the hair +and dragged him off 'n the cross ties, shot him one or two more under +the ear with my fist, and then dropped him. He crawled up and stood +looking at me as if I was the awfulest thing in the world. I s'pect I +did look scary, for I was terrible mad. His face was bruised up +mightily, but he wasn't a bleeding much. He was mostly swelled.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Where's my train?' says he, in a sort o' blank, hollow way.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Don't ye hear it?' I answered him, 'It's gone on to Savanny!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Gone! Who told 'm to go on? What'd they go leave me for?'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'I pulled the bell rope,' says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'<i>You?</i>'</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>'Yes, <i>me</i>!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'What in the world did you do <i>that</i> for, man?'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">' 'Cause you wouldn't let me ride to Savanny!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'What'll I do! What'll I do!' he cried, beginning to waltz 'round like +one possessed.</p> + +<p>"I laughed—I couldn't help it—and at the same time I pulled out my old +pistol.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Yah-hoo-a!' yelled another owl.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'For the sake o' humanity don't kill me!' said the conductor.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'I'm jest a going to shoot you a little bit for the fun o' the thing,' +says I.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Mercy, man!' he prayed.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket!' says I.</p> + +<p>"He groaned the awfulest kind, and, by the moonlight, I saw 'at the big +tears was running down his face. I felt sorry for him, but I kinder +thought 'at after what he'd done he'd better pray a little, so I +mentioned it to him.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'I guess it mought be best if you'd pray a little,' says I, cocking the +pistol. My voice had a decided sepulchreal sound. The pistol clicked +very sharp.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'O, kind sir,' says he, 'O, dear sir, I never did pray, I don't know how +to pray!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket or check!' says I, and he knowed I was talking kind o' sarcasm. +'Pray quick!'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>"He got down and prayed like a Methodist preacher at his very best +licks. He must 'a' prayed afore.</p> + +<p>"About the time his prayer was ended I heard a train coming in the +distance. He jumped up and listened.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Glory! Heaven be praised!' says he, capering around like a mad monkey, +'They've missed me and are backing down to hunt me! Where's my lantern? +Have you a match? Gi'me your handkerchief!'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Not so fast,' says I; 'you jest be moderate now, will you? I've no +notion o' you getting on that train any more. You jest walk along wi' +me, will you?'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Where?' says he.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Into the swamp,' says I; 'step off lively, too, d'you hear me?'</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'O mercy, mercy, man!' says he.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket!' says I, and then he walked along wi' me into the swamp some +two or three hundred yards from the railroad.</p> + +<p>"I took him into a very thickety place, and made him back up agin a tree +and put back his arms around it. Then I took one o' his suspenders and +tied him hard and fast. Then I gagged him with my handkerchief. So far, +so good.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>"Here come the train slowly backing down, the brakesman a swinging +lanterns, and the passengers all swarming onto the platforms. Poorty +soon they stopped right opposite us. The conductor began to struggle. I +poked the pistol in his face and jammed the gag furder into his mouth. +He saw I meant work and got quiet.</p> + +<p>"The passengers was swarming off 'n the train and I saw 'at I must git +about poorty fast if I was to do anything. I soon hit on a plan. I jist +stepped back a piece out o' sight o' the conductor and turned my coat, +which was one o' these two-sided affairs, one side white, t'other brown. +I turned the white side out. Then I flung away my greasy skull cap and +took a soft hat out 'n my pocket and put it on. Then I watched my chance +and mixed in with the passengers who was a hunting for the conductor.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Strange what's become o' him,' says I to a fat man, who was puffing +along.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Dim strange, dim strange,' says the big fellow, in a keen, wheezing +voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, you never saw jist sich hunting as was done for that conductor. +Everybody slopped around in the swamp till their clothes was as wet and +muddy as mine. I was monstrous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> active in the search. I hunted +everywhere 'cepting where the conductor was. Finally he got the gag spit +out and lordy how he did squeal for help. Everybody rushed to him and +soon had him free.</p> + +<p>"It tickled me awful to hear that conductor explaining the matter. He +told it something like this:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Devil of a great big ruffian on hind platform. Asked him for ticket. +Refused. Tried to put him off. Grabbed me. Smashed my nose. Flung me +off. Pulled the bell-rope, then lit out on me. Mauled —— out o' me. +Had a pistol two feet long. Made me pray. Heard train a coming. Took me +to swamp. Tied me and sloped. Lord but I'm glad to see you all!'</p> + +<p>"We all went aboard o' the train and I rode to Savanny onmolested. The +conductor didn't mistrust me. He asked me for my check and I told him +'at I'd lost it a thrashing round in the bushes a hunting him. That was +all right.</p> + +<p>"When we got to Savanny I couldn't help letting the conductor know me, +so as I passed down the steps of the car I whispered savagely in his +ear:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'Ticket! dod blast you!'</p> + +<p>"He tried to grab me as I shambled off into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> the crowd, but I knowed the +ropes. I heard him a shoutin'—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">'There he goes! Ketch him, dern him, ketch him!' But they didn't.</p> + +<p>"That conductor's name was Fuller, and I swear, stranger, 'at you look +jest like him! Gi' me a match, will you, my pipe's out. Thanky. Hope I +ha'n't bored you. Good bye all."</p> + +<p>He shambled out and I never saw him again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">Hoiden.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>The house was known as Rackenshack throughout the neighborhood for miles +around. It was a frame structure, originally of sorry workmanship, at +least thirty years old, and upon which not a cent's worth of repairing +had been done since first erected, wherefore the name was peculiarly +appropriate. It was not only old, rickety, paintless, half rotten and +sadly sunken at one end, but the fencing around the place was broken, +grown over with weeds, and slanted in as many ways as there were panels. +The lawn or yard in front of the house had some old cherry trees, +gnarled and decaying, growing in what had once been straight rows, but +storms and more insidious vicissitudes had twisted and curled them about +till they looked as though they had been thrown end foremost at the +ground hap-hazard. Under and all round these trees young sprouts, from +the scattered cherry seeds of many years of fruiting, had grown so thick +that one could with difficulty get through them. A narrow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> well-beaten +path led from the gate, which lazily lolled on one hinge, up to the +decayed and sunken porch, in front of which was the well, with its +lop-eared windlass and dilapidated curb and shed.</p> + +<p>A country thoroughfare, one of the old State roads leading westward to a +ferry on the Wabash river near the village of Attica and eastward to +either Crawfordsville, Indianapolis or Lafayette. This road was in the +direct line of emigration, and in the proper seasons long lines of +covered wagons rolled past, the drivers, a jolly set, hallooing to each +other and bandying sharp wit and rude sarcasm at the expense of +Rackenshack. Poor old house, it leered at the passers, with its windows +askew, and clattered its loose boards and battered shutters in utter and +complacent defiance of all their jeers!</p> + +<p>Rackenshack belonged to Luke Plunkett and Betsy, his sister; the latter +an old maid beyond all cavil, the former a bachelor of about thirty. The +lands of the estate were pretty broad, comprising some two thousand +acres of rich prairie and "river bottom" land, which had been kept in a +much better state of improvement than the house had. In fact, Luke was +considered a careful, industrious, frugal farmer. He had large, well +regulated barns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> and stock sheds and stables—plenty of fine horses, +cattle, hogs, sheep and mules, all well fed and cared for, and it was +generally understood that he had a pretty round deposit in a bank.</p> + +<p>Perhaps 'Squire Rube Fink, sometimes called "the Rev. Major Fink" and +sometimes "Talking Rube," gives the best description of Luke's +condition, habits and surroundings, that I can offer. It is truthful and +singularly graphic. He says:</p> + +<p>"Luke Plunkett's no fool if he does live at Rack-a-me-shack and 'spect +the ole rotten tabernacle to fall down on him every time a rooster crows +close by. That feller's long-headed, he is. To be sure, sartinly, his +barn's a dern sight better 'n his house, but his head's level, for, d'ye +see, that's the way to make money. A house don't never make no money for +a feller—it's nothin' but dead capital to put money into a fine +dwellin'. Luke's pilin' his money in the bank. He's been doin' a sharp +thing in wheat and live stock at Cincinnati, and I guess he knows what +he's about. He don't keer about what sort o' house he lives in. But I +tell you that red haired sister o' his'n is lightning. She's what bosses +the job all round that ole shanty; but she can't red-hair it over Luke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +in the farm matters. He has his own way. He's so quiet and peculiar; a +still, say nothin', bull-dog sort o' man he is."</p> + +<p>Indeed, Luke was one of that quiet sort of men who, without ever once +loudly asserting a right or disputing any word you say, invariably go +ahead on their own judgment and carry their point in everything. +Nevertheless, he was a man of fine, generous nature at bottom, a good +brother and a worthy friend.</p> + +<p>But it was with Luke just as it is, more or less, with us all. He +absorbed into his life the spirit of his surroundings. He grew somewhat +to resemble Rackenshack in outward appearance. He became slovenly in his +dress and let his hair and beard grow wild. His naturally handsome face +gradually took on a sort of good humored ugliness, and his heavy +shoulders slanted over like the uneven gables of his house. He became an +inveterate chewer and smoker of tobacco. What time a quid of the weed +was not in his mouth, the short thick stem of a dark, nicotine-coated +briar-root pipe took its place there.</p> + +<p>Luke was an early riser; therefore it happens that our story properly +begins on a fine June morning, just before sunrise. The birds seemed to +suspect that a story was to date<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> from that hour, for they were up +earlier than usual and made a great rustle of wings and a sweet Babel of +voices in the old cherry trees. There were the oriole, the cat bird, the +yellow throat, the brown thrush and the red bird, all putting forth at +once their charmingest efforts. The old cherry trees, knee deep in the +foliage of their under growing seedlings, gleamed dusky green in the +early light, as Luke, bareheaded, barefooted and in his "shirt sleeves," +as the phrase goes, issued from the front door of Rackenshack, and +walked down the path across the yard to the gate at the road. Of late he +had been in the habit of "taking a smoke" the first thing after getting +up in the morning, and somehow the gate, though off one hinge and having +doubtful tenure of the other, was his favorite thing to lean upon while +watching the whiffs of blue smoke slowly float away.</p> + +<p>On this particular morning he seemed a little agitated; and, indeed, he +was vexed more deeply than he had ever before been. Just the preceding +evening he had learned that a corps of civil engineers were rapidly +approaching his premises with a line of survey, and that the purpose was +to locate and build a railway right through the middle of his farm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> To +Luke the very idea was outrageous. He felt that he could never stand +such an imposition. His land was his own, and when he wanted it dug up +and leveled down and a track laid across it he would do it himself. He +did not want his farm cut in two, his fields disarranged and his fences +moved, nor did he wish to see his live stock killed by locomotives. The +truth is he was bitterly opposed to railroads, any how. They were +innovations. They were enemies to liberty. They brought fashion, and +spendthrift ways, and speculation, and all that along with them. Other +folks might have railroads if they wanted them, but they must not bother +him with them. He could take care of his affairs without any railroads. +Besides, if he wanted one he could build it. He hung heavily upon the +gate, thinking the matter over, and would not have bestowed a second +glance at the carriage that came trundling past if he had not caught the +starry flash of a pair of blue eyes and a rosy, roguish girl's face +within. The beauty of that countenance struck the great rough fellow +like a blow. He stared in a dazed, bewildered way. He took his pipe from +his mouth and involuntarily tried to hide his great big bare feet behind +the gate post. He felt a queer, dreamy thrill steal all over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> him. It +was his first definite impression of feminine beauty. Instantly that +round, happy, mischievous face, with its dimples and indescribable +shining lines of half latent mirth, set itself in his heart forever.</p> + +<p>The carriage trundled on in the direction of the ferry. Luke followed it +with his eyes till it disappeared round a turn in the road; then he put +the pipe to his mouth again and began puffing vigorously, wagging his +head in a way that indicated great confusion of mind. There are times +when a glimpse of a face, the sudden half-mastering of a new, grand +idea, a view of a rare landscape or even a cadence in some new tune, +will start afresh the long dried up wells of a heart. Something like +this had happened to Luke.</p> + +<p>"Sich a gal! sich a gal!" he murmured from the corner of his mouth +opposite his pipe stem. "I don't guess I'm a dreamin' now, though I feel +a right smart like it. I <i>hev</i> dreamed of that 'ere face though, many of +times. I've seed it in my sleep a thousand times, but I never s'posed +'at I'd see it shore enough when I'd be awake! Sweetest dreams I ever +had—sweetest face God ever made! I wonder who she is?" As if to +supplement Luke's soliloquy at this point, a cardinal red bird flung +out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> from the dusky depths of the oldest cherry tree an ecstatic carol, +and a swallow, swooping down from the clear purple heights, almost +touched the man's cheek with its shining wings, and the sun lifted its +flaming face in the east and flooded the fields with gold.</p> + +<p>Luke turned slowly toward the old house. The breeze that came up with +the sun poured through the orchard with a broad, joyous surge, while +something like blowing of strange winds and streaming of soft sunlight +made strangely happy the inner world of the smitten Hoosier. His big +strong heart fluttered mysteriously. He actually took his pipe from his +lips and broke into a snatch of merry song, that startled Betsy, his +sister, from her morning nap.</p> + +<p>For the time the hated railroad survey was forgotten. The landscape at +Rackenshack, as if by a turn of the great prisms of nature, suddenly +took on rainbow hues. The fields flashed with jewels, and the woods, a +wall of dusky emerald, were wrapped in a roseate mist, stirred into +dreamy motion by the breeze. A light, grateful fragrance seemed to +pervade all space, as if flung from the sun to soften and enhance the +charm of his gift of light and heat. Such a hold did all this take upon +Luke, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> so utterly abstracted was he, that when breakfast was ready +Betsy was obliged to remind him of the fact that he had neglected to +wash his face and hands, and comb his hair and beard—things absolutely +prerequisite to eating at her table.</p> + +<p>"Forgot it, sure's the world," said Luke; "don't know what ever +possessed me."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you've forgot to turn the cows into the milk stalls, too?" said +Betsy.</p> + +<p>"If I ha'n't I'm a gourd!" and Luke scratched his head distractedly.</p> + +<p>"What'd I tell you, Luke Plunkett? It's come at last, O lordy! You're as +crazy as a June bug all along of smoking that old pipe! Rot the nasty, +stinking old thing! It's a perfect shame, Luke, for a man to just smoke +what little brains he's got clean out. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, so you ought!"</p> + +<p>While she was speaking Betsy got the big wooden washbowl for her +brother, whereupon he proceeded to make his ablutions in a most +energetic way, taking up great double handfuls of water and sousing his +face therein with loud puffings, that enveloped his head in a cloud of +spray.</p> + +<p>When a clean tow linen towel had served its purpose, Luke remarked:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>"Don't know but what I <i>am</i> some'at crazy in good earnest, Betsy, since +I come to think it all over. I'm r'ally onto it a right smart. What'd +you think, Betsy, if I'd commence talkin' 'oman to ye?"</p> + +<p>"Luke, Luke! are you crazy? Is your mind clean gone out of your poor +smoky head?"</p> + +<p>"That's not much of a answer to my question."</p> + +<p>"Well, what <i>do</i> you mean, <i>anyhow</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I mean business, that's what!"</p> + +<p>"Luke!"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"Do try to act sensible now. What is it, Luke? What makes your eyes look +so strange and dance about so? What do you mean by all this queer talk?"</p> + +<p>Luke finished combing, and, going to the table, sat down and was +proceeding to discuss the fried chicken and coffee without further +remark, but Betsy was not so easily balked. She, like most red haired +women, wished her questions to be fully and immediately answered, +wherefore some indications of a storm began to appear.</p> + +<p>Luke smiled a quiet little smile that had hard work getting out through +his beard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> Betsy trotted her foot under the table. Her hand trembled as +she poured the coffee—trembled so violently that she scalded her left +thumb. It was about time for Luke to speak or have trouble, so, in a +very gentle voice, he said:</p> + +<p>"Well, I saw a gal—a gal an' her father, I reckon—go by this mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it? S'pose there's plenty of girls and their fathers, +ain't there?" snapped Betsy.</p> + +<p>Luke drew a chicken leg through his mouth, laid down the bone, leered +comically at his sister from under his bushy eyebrows, and said:</p> + +<p>"But the gal was purty, Betsy—purty as a pictur', sweet as a peach, +juicy an' temptin' as a ripe, red cored watermillion! You can't begin to +guess how sweet an' nice she did look. My heart just flolloped and +flopped about, an' it's at it yet!"</p> + +<p>"Luke Plunkett, you <i>are</i> crazy! You're just as distracted as a blind +dog in high rye. Drink a cup of hot coffee, Luke, and go lie down a bit, +you'll feel better." The spinster was horrified beyond measure. She +really thought her brother crazy.</p> + +<p>The man finished his meal in silence, smiling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> the while more grimly +than before, after which he took his shot gun and a pan of salt and +trudged off to a distant field to salt some cattle. He always carried +his gun with him on such occasions, and not unfrequently brought back a +brace of partridges or some young squirrels. As he strode along, +thinking all the time of the girl in the carriage, he suddenly came upon +a corps of engineers with transit, level, rod and chain, staking out, +through the centre of a choice field, a line of survey for a railroad. +In an instant he was like a roaring lion. He glared for a second or so +at the intruders, then lowering his gun he charged them at a run, +storming out as he did so:</p> + +<p>"What you doin' here, you onery cusses, you! Leave here! Get out! +Scratch! Sift! Dern yer onery skins, I'll shoot every dog of ye! Git out +'n here, I say—out, out!"</p> + +<p>The corps stampeded at once. The surveyor seized his transit, the +leveller his level, the rod man his rod, the axe men and chain men their +respective implements, and away they went, "lick-to-split, like a passel +o' scart hogs," as Luke afterwards said, "as fast as they could ever +wiggle along!"</p> + +<p>No wonder they ran, for Luke looked like a demon of destruction. It was +a wild race for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> the line fence, a full half mile away. The leveler, +being the hindmost man, rolled over this fence just as a heavy bowlder, +hurled by Luke, struck the top rail. It was a close shave, a miss of a +hair's breadth, a marvelous escape. Luke rushed up to the fence and +glared over at his intended victims. Here he knew he must stop, for he +doubted the legality of pursuing them beyond the confines of his own +premises. Somewhat out of breath he leaned on the fence and proceeded to +swear at the corps individually and collectively, shaking his fists at +them excitedly, till the appearance of a new man on the scene made him +start and stare as if looking at a ghost. He was a well dressed, +gentlemanly appearing person of about the age of forty-five, pale and +thoughtful—calm, gray eyed, commanding. Luke recognized him at once as +the man he had seen in the carriage, and, indeed, the vehicle itself +stood hard by, with a beautiful, laughing, roguish face looking out of +one of the windows. The lion in the stalwart farmer was quelled in an +instant. He felt his legs grow weak. He set his gun by the fence and +touched his hat to the little lady.</p> + +<p>"Your name, I believe, is Luke Plunkett?" said the approaching +gentleman.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>"Yes, sir," said Luke.</p> + +<p>"You own two thousand acres of land here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Your residence is called Rackenshack?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." (Suppressed titter from the carriage.)</p> + +<p>"So I thought. Pull back, men (addressing the corps), pull back to where +you dropped the line and bring it right along. Mr. Plunkett will not +harm you now."</p> + +<p>The corps began to move. Luke fiercely seized his gun; but before he +could lift it or utter a word, a ten-inch Colt's repeater was thrust +into his face by the calm gentleman, and a steady hand held it there.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Plunkett," said the man, "I am the chief engineer of the —— +Railroad. I am making a location. The laws of this State give me the +right to go upon your land with my corps and have the survey made. I am +not to be trifled with. If you offer to cock that gun I'll put six holes +through you. What do you say, now?"</p> + +<p>The voice was that of a cold man of business. There was a coffin in +every word. The muzzle of the pistol steadily covered Luke's left eye. +The situation was rigid. Luke hesitated—his face ashy with anger and +fear, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> eyes alternating their glances between the muzzle of the +pistol and that wonderful shining face at the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Shoot him, papa, shoot him! Shoot him!" Sweet as a silver bell rang out +the girl's voice, more like a ripple of idle song than a murderous +request, and then a clear, happy laugh went echoing off through the +woods in which the carriage stood.</p> + +<p>Slowly, steadily, Luke let fall the breech of his gun upon the ground +beside him. The engineer smiled grimly and lowered his pistol, while the +corps, headed by the surveyor, took up its line of march to the point +where work had been so suddenly left off.</p> + +<p>The young lady clapped her tiny white hands for joy.</p> + +<p>A big black woodpecker began to cackle in a tree hard by.</p> + +<p>Luke felt like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p>The whole adventure, so far, had been clothed in most unreal seeming.</p> + +<p>It can hardly be told how, by rapid transitions from one thing to +another in his talk, the engineer drew Luke's mind away from the late +difficulty and gradually aroused in him a kindly feeling. In less than +ten minutes the two men were sitting side by side on a log,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> smoking +cigars from the engineer's pouch and chatting calmly, amicably.</p> + +<p>Luke's eyes often rested steadily fixed in the direction of the +carriage. Through the thin veil of tobacco smoke the face of the young +girl seemed to the farmer angelic in its beauty. All around the sweets +of summer rose and fell, and drifted like scarcely visible shining +mists, fraught with the spice of leaf and perfume of blossom, agitated +by swells of tricksy wind, going on and on to the mysterious goal of the +season.</p> + +<p>The two men talked on until the corps had pushed the line of survey far +past them into the cool, shady deeps of the woods, whence their voices +came back fainter and fainter every moment. At length the engineer +arose, and stretching out his hand to Luke, said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Plunkett, I'm sure I'll be able to serve you some time; let us be +friends. I shall be in this vicinity most of the time till the road is +built. No doubt I can show a way to profit by the construction of a +railroad across your land. If you are sharp it will make your fortune. I +like your independent way, sir, and hope to know you better. Here is my +card."</p> + +<p>Luke took the bit of pasteboard without saying a word. They shook hands +and the engineer got into his carriage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>"Here's my card, too, Mr. Plunkett," cried the girl. She said something +more, but the horses were made to plunge rapidly away, and the words +were lost; but the flash of a white jewelled hand caught Luke's eye as a +delicately tinted card came fluttering towards him. He sprang and seized +it. If a bag of diamonds had been flung at his feet he could not have +been more excited. His hands trembled. All the incidents of the only +fairy tale he had ever read came at once into his mind. He stood with +his feet turned in, like some great awkward boy, a bashful, shame-faced +look lurking about his mouth and eyes. He filled his pipe and lighted it +from the stump of his cigar with nervous eagerness. A squirrel came down +to the lowest limbs of a beech tree hard by and barked at him, but he +did not notice it. He read the names on the cards:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Elliot Pearl, C. E.</i>"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">"<i>Hoiden Pearl.</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The first printed in small capitals, the second written in a delicate, +rather cramped feminine hand. He stood for a long time dreamily employed +in turning these bits of paper over and over. His thoughts were so vague +in outline and so dim in filling up that they cannot be reproduced. They +slipped away on the summer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> air, like little puffs of perfume, and were +lost, to be found by many and many a one in the ineffable places of +dreamland. Finally, shaking himself as if to break the charm that held +him in its meshes, he took up his gun and slowly made his way homeward. +All along his walk he kept smiling to himself and talking aloud, but his +words were such that it would be sacrilege to repeat them now. Let them +hover about in the sunlight of summer, where he uttered them, as things +too delicate to be pressed between the lids of a book.</p> + +<p>Betsy had trouble with Luke for some days after this. He lay about the +house, saying little, eating little, giving little attention to the many +tenants who worked his estate. He was in good health, was not in trouble +(so he said to his sister), but he did not care to be bothered with +business. He was tired and would rest awhile. "He smoked pretty near all +the time," as Betsy declared. But not a hint fell from his lips as to +what might be running in his mind.</p> + +<p>So the days slipped past till July hung golden mists on the horizon and +filled the woods with that rare stillness and dusky slumbrousness that +follows the maturing of the foliage and the coming on of fruit. The +cherry trees at Rackenshack had grown ragged and dull, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> birds, +excepting a few swallows wheeling about the old chimney tops, had all +flown away to the woods and fields. The wheat had been cut and stacked, +the corn had received its last ploughing. Still Luke hung about the +house annoying Betsy with his pipe and his utter carelessness. That he +was "distracted" Betsy did not for a moment doubt. She used every means +her small stock of wit could invent to urge him out of his singular +mood, but without avail. He took to the few old novels he could find +about the house, but sometimes he would gaze blankly at a single +paragraph for a whole hour.</p> + +<p>One morning as he lay on the porch, his head resting upon the back of a +chair, reading, or pretending to read an odd volume of "The Scottish +Chiefs," a little boy, 'Squire Brown's son, came to bring home a +monkey-wrench his father had borrowed some time before. The boy was a +bright, rattle-box, say-everything, pop-eyed sort of child, and was not +long telling all the news of the neighborhood. Luke gave little +attention to what he was saying, till at length he let fall something +about a young lady—a fine, rich young lady, staying at Judge +Barnett's—a young lady who could outrun him, out jump him, beat him +playing marbles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> and ball, who could climb away up in the June apple +tree, who could ride a colt bareback, who could beat Jim Barnett +shooting at a mark, who could, in fact, do a half a hundred things to +perfection that strict persons would think a young lady should never do +at all, but which seemed to make a heroine of her in the narrator's +boyish view.</p> + +<p>"What's the gal's name?" queried Luke in a slow, lazy way, but his eyes +shot a gleam of hope.</p> + +<p>"Hoidy Pearl," replied the lad.</p> + +<p>Hoiden Pearl! That name had been woven into every sound that had reached +Luke's ears for days and nights and nights together, and now, like a +sweet tune nearly mastered, it took a deeper, tenderer meaning as the +boy pronounced it in his childish way.</p> + +<p>"Hoidy Pearl is her name," the lad continued. "She's come to stay at the +Judge's all summer till the new railroad's finished. Her father's the +boss of the road. She's jest the funniest girl, o-o-e! And she likes me, +too!"</p> + +<p>Luke raised himself to a sitting posture and looked at the boy so +earnestly that he drew back a pace or two as if afraid.</p> + +<p>"Boy, you're not lyin', are ye?" said the man in a low, earnest tone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>"No I'm not, neither," was the quick reply.</p> + +<p>Luke got up, flung aside his book and strolled off into the woods. +Wandering there in the cool, silent places, he dreamed his dream. For +hours he sat by a little spring stream in the dense shadow of a big +cotton-wood tree. The birds congregated about him, and chirped and sang; +the squirrels came out chattering and frisking from branch to branch; +but he gave them no look of recognition—he saw them not, heard them +not. The birds might have lit upon his head and the squirrels might have +run in and out of his pockets with impunity. He smoked all the time, +refilling and relighting his pipe whenever it burned out. He did not +know how much he was smoking, nor that he was smoking at all. A bright +face set in a mass of yellow curls, a wee white hand all spangled with +jewels, a voice sweeter than any bird's, a name—Hoiden Pearl—these +rang, and danced, and echoed, and shone in the recesses of his brain and +heart to the exclusion of all else. He was trying to think, but he could +not. He wanted to mature a plan, but not even an outline could find room +in his head. It was full. Strange, indeed, it may seem, that a rough +farmer of Luke's age should thus fall into the ways of the imaginative, +sentimental<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> stripling; but, after all, the fit must come on some time +in life. No doubt it goes harder with some constitutions than with +others. Luke may have been unwittingly strongly predisposed that way. +Neither the exterior of a man nor his surroundings will do to judge him +by. Nature is that mysterious in all her ways. Luke talked aloud, +sometimes gesticulating in a quiet way.</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> see the gal—I <i>will</i> see the gal," he muttered at last. "It's +no use talkin', I jist will see her!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly a light broke from his face. He smiled like one who has victory +in his grasp—like an editor who has an idea, like a reviewer who has +found some bad verse. He got up immediately, went back to the barn, +hitched a horse to a small road wagon and drove to town. There he spent +time and money with a merchant tailor and other vendors of clothing. He +was very fastidious in his selection. Nothing but the finest would do +him. A few days after this he brought home a trunk full of princely +raiment—broad cloth and fine linen. Betsy was struck dumb with +amazement when the trunk was opened. A dream of such costly things, such +reckless extravagance, would have driven her mad. Silent, open-eyed, +wondering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> she came in and stood behind Luke while he was unpacking. He +looked up presently and saw her. His face flushed violently, and in a +half-whining, half-ashamed tone he muttered:</p> + +<p>"Now, Betsy, you jest git out'n here faster'n ye come in, for I'm not +goin' to stan' no foolin' at all, now. These 'ere's my clothes and paid +for out'n my money, an' I'm the jedge of what I need. I ha'n't had any +good duds for a long time, and I'm tired o' lookin' like a scarecrow +made out'n a salt bag. I've been thinkin' for a long time I'd git these +'ere things, an' now I've got'm. You kin git you some if ye like, but I +don't want ye a standin' round here gawpin' at me on 'count o' my +clothes; so you go off an' mind yer own affairs. It's no great sight to +see some shirts, an' coats, and pants, an' collars, an' vests, an' sich +like, is it?"</p> + +<p>Before this speech was finished Betsy had backed out of the room and +closed the door. As she did so she let go a sigh that came back to Luke +like a Parthian arrow; but it happened just then that he was holding up +in front of him a buff linen vest which kept the missile from his heart.</p> + +<p>He dressed himself with great care, and an hour later he slipped out of +the house unseen, and took his way towards the rather pretentious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +residence of Judge Barnett, the gables of which, a mile away, gleamed +between rows of Lombardy poplars. The Judge was one of those half +cultivated men who, in every country neighborhood, pass for prodigies of +learning and ability. He was the autocrat of the county in political and +social affairs—one of those men who really know a great deal, but who +arrogate more. He got his title from having been County Commissioner +when the court house was building. Some said he made money out of the +transaction, but our story is silent there.</p> + +<p>It would have been an interesting study for a philosopher to have +watched Luke throughout the singular ramble he took that morning. It +would have been such a manifest revelation of the state of the fellow's +feelings. It would have minutely disclosed, and more eloquently than any +verbal confession, the rise and fall, the ebb and flow, the alternating +strength and weakness of his purpose, and the will behind it. Then, too, +it would have let fall delightful hints of the unselfishness of his new +and all-engrossing passion, and of the charming simplicity and sincerity +of his great rugged nature at its inner core. At first he struck out +boldly a direct line to Judge Barnett's residence, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> face beaming +with the light of settled happiness, but as he neared the pleasant +grounds surrounding the house he began to discover some trepidation. His +gait wavered, the expression of his face shifted with each step, and +soon his course was indeterminate—a fitful sauntering from this place +to that—a tricksy, uneven flight, like that of a lazy butterfly, if one +may indulge the comparison—a meandering in and out among the trees of a +small walnut grove—a strolling here and there, now along the verge of a +well set old orchard, now down the low hedge behind the garden, and anon +leaning over the board fence that inclosed the Judge's ample barn and +stable lot; he gazed wistfully, half comically, in the direction of the +upper windows of the farm house. It was one of those peculiarly yellow +days of summer, when everything swims in a golden mist. The blue birds +floated aimlessly about from stake to stake of the fences; the wind, +felt only in jerky puffs, blew no particular way, and as idly and as +eccentrically as any blue bird, and in full accord with the fitful will +of the wind, Luke drifted through the sheen of summer all round Barnett +Place. He lazed about, humming a tune, and, for a wonder, not +smoking—half restless, half contented, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> for something, scarcely +expecting anything. When once a great rough man does get into a childish +way, he is a child of which ordinary children would be ashamed, and just +then Luke, the big bashful fellow, was an instance strikingly in point. +Occasionally he talked half aloud to himself. Once, while lounging on +the orchard fence, gazing down between the long rows of russet and +pippin trees, he said dreamily,</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> see her. I can't go back 'ithout seein' her." It so chanced +that just then a shower of blackbirds fell upon the orchard, covering +the trees and the ground, flying over and over each other, twittering +and whistling as only blackbirds can. Their wings smote together with a +tender rustling sound like that of a spring wind in young foliage, or of +a thousand lovers whispering together by moonlight. Luke watched them a +long while, a doleful shade gathering in his face. "The little things +loves each other," he muttered; "everything loves something; an' jest +dern my lights ef I don't love the gal, an' I'm boun' to see her!" +Seemingly nerved by sudden resolution, he climbed over the fence and +started at a slashing pace across the orchard towards the house, scaring +all the birds into an ecstasy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> of flight, so that they dashed themselves +against the foliage of the apple trees, making it rustle and sway as if +blown on by a strong wind. He did not keep on, however. His resolution +seemed to burn out about midway the orchard. He began to drift around +again, his pace becoming slower and slower. His shoulders drooped +forward as if burdened with a great load, his eyes turned restlessly +from side to aide.</p> + +<p>"I jest can't do it!" he murmured—"I jest can't do it, an' I mought as +well go back!" There was a petulant ring to his voice—a nervous, +worried tone, that had despair in it.</p> + +<p>Out of a June apple tree right over his head fell a sweet, silvery, half +child's, half woman's voice, that thrilled him through every fibre to +the marrow of his bones.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Goosey? What have you lost! What are you hunting +for? Want a good apple?"</p> + +<p>Luke looked up just in time to catch squarely on his nose a fine, ripe +June apple, and through a mist of juice and a sheeny curtain of leaves +he saw the lovely face he had come to look for. A thump on the nose from +an apple, no matter if it is ripe and soft, is a little embarrassing, +and it only makes it more so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> when the racy wine of the fruit flies into +one's eyes and all over one's new clothes. But there are moments of +supreme bliss when such a mishap passes unnoticed. Luke felt as if the +blow had been the touch of a magician conjuring up a scene that held him +rapt and speechless.</p> + +<p>"O, my! I didn't go to hit you! Please excuse me, sir—do. I thought +you'd catch it in your hands."</p> + +<p>She came lightly down from the tree, descending like a bird, easily, +gracefully, as if she had been born to climb. She murmured many +apologies, but the genius of fun danced in her saucy, almost impertinent +eyes, belying her regretful words. Luke looked down at her dazed and +speechless. She, however, was full of prattle—half childish, half +womanly, half serious, half bantering—her eyes upturned to his, her +voice a very bird's in melody. In the more innocent sense of the word +she looked like her name, Hoiden. Nothing unchaste or indelicate about +her appearance; just a sort of want of restraint; a freedom that +amounted to an utter lack of responsibility to the ordinary claims and +dictates of propriety. A close, trained, intelligent observer would have +seen at once that she was wilful, spoiled,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> unbridled, but not bad, not +in the least vicious; really innocent and full of good impulses. She was +beautiful, too—wonderfully beautiful—just on the hither side of +womanhood, plump, budding, bewitching. How she did it can never be +known, but she soon had Luke racing with her all over the orchard. They +climbed trees together, they scrambled for the same apple, they laughed, +and shouted, and played till the horn at the farmhouse called the field +hands to dinner. They parted then, as children part, promising to meet +again the next day. The girl's cheeks were rosy with exercise, so were +Luke's.</p> + +<p>How strange! Day after day that great, bearded, almost middle-aged, +uncouth farmer went and played slave to that chit of a girl, doing +whatever ridiculous or childish thing she proposed, caring for nothing, +asking for nothing but to be with her, listen to her voice and feast his +eyes upon her beauty. He gladly bore everything she heaped upon him, and +to be called "Goosey" by her was to him inexpressibly charming.</p> + +<p>Betsy's womanly nature was not to be deceived. She soon comprehended +all; but she dared not mention the subject to Luke. He was in no mood to +be opposed. So he went on—and Betsy sighed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>The summer softened into autumn. The maple leaves reddened. The long +grass turned brown and lolled over. A softness and tenderness lurked in +the deep blue sky, and the air had a sharp racy fragrance from ripe +fruit and grain. Meantime the railroad had been pushed with amazing +rapidity nearly to completion. Every day long construction trains went +crashing-across Luke's farm. Passenger coaches were to be put on in a +few days. Luke was the very picture of happiness. He seemed to grow +younger every day. His worldly prospects, too, were flattering. A +station had been located on his land, around which a town had already +begun to spring up. The vast value of Luke's timber, walnut and oak, was +just beginning to appear; indeed, immense wealth lay in his hands. But +his happiness was of a deeper and purer sort than that generated by +simple pecuniary prosperity. Hoiden Pearl was in the focus of all his +thoughts; her face lighted his dreams, her voice made the music that +charmed him into a wonderland of bliss. He said little about her, even +to Betsy, but it needed no sharpness of sight to discover from his face +what was going on in his heart. He had even forgotten his pipe. He had +not smoked since that first day in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> orchard. He had straightened up +and looked a span taller.</p> + +<p>The girl did not seem to dream of any tender attachment on Luke's part. +In fact he gave her no cause for it. He fed on his love inwardly and +never thought of telling it. To be with her was enough. It satisfied all +his wants. She was frank and free with him, but tyrannized over +him—ordered him about like a servant, scolded him, flattered him, +pouted at him, smiled on him, indeed kept him crazy with rapture all the +time. Once only she became confidentially communicative. It was one day, +sitting on an old mossy log in the Judge's woodland pasture, she told +him the story of her past life. How thrillingly beautiful her face +became as it sobered down with the history of early orphanage! Her +father had died first; then her mother, who left her four years old in +the care of Mr. Pearl, her paternal uncle, with whom she had ever since +been, going from place to place, as the calls of his nomadic profession +made it necessary, from survey to survey, from this State to that, +seeing all sorts of people, and receiving her education in small, +detached parcels. The story was a sad, unsatisfactory one, breathing +neglect, yet full of a certain kind of sprightliness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> and touched here +and there with the fascination of true romance.</p> + +<p>It is hard to say when Luke would have awakened from his tender trance +to the strong reality of love. He was too contented for +self-questioning, and no act or word of Hoiden's invited him to consider +what he was doing or whither he was drifting.</p> + +<p>It was well for Luke and the girl, too, that it was a sparsely settled +neighborhood, for evil tongues might have made much of their constant +companionship and childish behavior.</p> + +<p>As for the Judge, after it was all over he admitted that he felt some +qualms of conscience about allowing such unlimited intimacy to go on, +but he excused himself by saying that the girl, when confined to the +house, was such an unmitigated nuisance that he was glad for some one to +monopolize her company.</p> + +<p>"Why," said he, in his peculiar way, "she set the whole house by the +ears. She made more clatter and racket than a four-horse Pennsylvania +wagon coming down a rocky hill. She would go from garret to cellar like +a whirlwind and twist things wrong side out as she went——she was a +tart!"</p> + +<p>But at length, toward the middle of autumn the end came. Luke had +business with some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> hog-buyers in Cincinnati, whither he was gone +several days. Meantime the railroad was completed, and Mr. Pearl came to +the Judge's early one morning and called for Hoiden. His business with +his employers was ended, and he had just finished an arrangement that +had long been on foot to go to one of the South American States and take +charge of a vast engineering scheme there. The girl was delighted. Such +a prospect of travel and adventure was enough to set one of her +temperament wild with enthusiasm. She flew to packing her trunk, her +face radiant with joy.</p> + +<p>Only an hour later Mr. Pearl and Hoiden stood at the new station on +Luke's land, waiting for the east-going train. Mr. Pearl happened to +think of a business message he wished to leave for Luke, so he went into +the depôt building and wrote it. When Hoiden saw the letter was for Luke +she begged leave to put in a few words of postscript, and she had her +way.</p> + +<p>The train came and the man and girl were whirled away to New York, and +thence they took ship for South America, never to return.</p> + +<p>Next day Luke came back, bringing with him a beautifully carved mahogany +box mounted in silver. Betsy met him at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> door, and, woman-like, told +the story of Hoiden's departure almost at the first breath.</p> + +<p>"Gone all the way to South America," she added, after premising that she +would never return.</p> + +<p>A peculiarly grim, grayish smile mantled the face of Luke. He swallowed +a time or two before he could speak.</p> + +<p>"Come now, sis" (he always said "sis" when he felt somewhat at Betsy's +mercy), "come now, sis, don't try to fool me. I'm goin' right over to +see the gal now, an' I've got what'll tickle her awfully right here in +this 'ere box."</p> + +<p>Out in the yard the blue jays and woodpeckers were quarrelling over the +late apples heaped up by the cider mill. The sky was clear, but the +sunlight, coming through a smoky atmosphere, was pale, like the smile of +a sick man. The wind of autumn ran steadily through the shrubby weedy +lawn with a sigh that had in it the very essence of sadness.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Luke, I'm not trying to fool you; they've gone clean to +South America to stay always," reiterated Betsy.</p> + +<p>Luke gazed for a moment steadily into his sister's eyes, as if looking +for a sign. Slowly his stalwart body and muscular limbs relaxed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> and +collapsed. The box fell to the floor with a crash, where it burst, +letting roll out great hoops of gold and starry rings and pins—a gold +watch and chain, a beautiful gold pen and pencil case, and trinkets and +gew-gaw things almost innumerable. They must have cost the full profits +of his business trip.</p> + +<p>Luke staggered into a chair. Betsy just then happened to think of the +letter that had been left for her brother. This she fetched and handed +to him. It was the note of business from Mr. Pearl. There was a +postscript in a different hand:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Good-bye, Goosey!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>Hoidy Pearl.</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>That was all. Luke is more morose and petulant than he used to be. He is +decaying about apace with Rackenshack, and he smokes constantly. He is +vastly wealthy and unmarried.</p> + +<p>Betsy is quiet and kind. Up stairs in her chest is hidden the mahogany +coffer full of golden testimonials of her brother's days of happiness +and the one dark hour of his despair!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">The Pedagogue.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>He was one of the farmer princes of Hoosierdom, a man of more than +average education, a fluent talker and ready with a story. Knowing that +I was looking up reminiscences of Hoosier life and specimens of Hoosier +character, he volunteered one evening to give me the following, vouching +for the truth of it. Here it is, as I "short-handed" it from his own +lips. I omit quotation marks.</p> + +<p>The study of one's past life is not unlike the study of geology. If the +presence of the remains of extinct species of animals and vegetables in +the ancient rocks calls up in one's mind a host of speculative thoughts +touching the progress of creation, so, as we cut with the pick of +retrospection through the strata of bygone days, do the remains of +departed things, constantly turning up, put one into his studying cap to +puzzle over specimens fully as curious and interesting in their way as +the <i>cephalaspis</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>The first stratum of my intellectual formation contains most +conspicuously the remains of dog-eared spelling books, a score or more +of them by different names, among which the <i>Elementary</i> of Webster is +the best preserved and most clearly defined. It was finding an old, +yellow, badly thumbed and dirt soiled copy of Webster's spelling book in +the bottom of an old chest of odds and ends, on the fly-leaf of which +book was written "T. Blodgett," that lately brightened my memory of the +things I am about to tell you.</p> + +<p>The old time pedagogue is a thing of the past—<i>pars temporis acti</i> is +the Latin of it, may be, but I'm not sure—I'm rusty in the Latin now. +When I quit school I could read it a good deal. But of the pedagogue. +The twenty years since he ceased to flourish seem, on reflection, like +an age—an <i>æon</i>, as the Greeks would say. I never did know much Greek. +I got most of my education from pedagogues of the old sort. They kept +pouring it on to me till it soaked in. That's the way I got it. I have +had corns and bunions on my back for not being sufficiently porous to +absorb the multiplication table rapidly enough to suit the whim of one +of those learned tyrants. But the pedagogue became extinct and passed +into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> fossil state some twenty years ago, when free schools took +good hold. He scampered away when he heard the whistle of the steam +engine along iron highways and the cry of small boys on the streets of +the towns hawking the daily papers. He could live nowhere within the +pale of innovation. He was born an exemplar of rigidity. The very name +of reform was hateful to him. We older fellows remember him well, but to +the younger fry he is not even a fossil, he is a myth. Of course +pedagogues differed slightly in the matter of particular disposition and +real character, but in a <i>general way</i> they had a close family +resemblance.</p> + +<p>I purpose to write of one Blodgett—T. Blodgett, as it was written in +the fly-leaf of Webster's Elementary—and he was an extraordinary +specimen of the genus pedagogue. But before I introduce him, let me, by +way of preface and prelude, give you a view of the salients of the +history of the days when pole-ribbed school houses—log cabin school +houses—flourished, with each a pedagogue for supreme, "unquestioned and +unquestionable" despot.</p> + +<p>In those fine days boys from five to fifteen years of age wore tow linen +pants held up by suspenders (often made of tow strings), and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> having at +each side pockets that reached down to about the wearer's knees. These +pockets held as much as a moderate sized bushel basket will now. The +girls, big and little, wore mere tow linen slips, that hung loose from +the shoulders. Democracy, pure and undefiled, flourished like a green +buckeye tree. Society was in about the same condition as a boy is when +his voice is changing. You know when a boy's voice is changing if you +hear him in another room getting his lesson by saying it over aloud, you +think there's about fourteen girls, two old men, and a dog barking in +the room. Society was much the same. The elements of everything were in +it, but not developed and separated yet. Women rode behind their +husbands on the same horse, occasionally reaching round in the man's lap +to feel if the baby was properly fixed. Sometimes the girls rode to +singing school behind their sweethearts. At such times the horses always +kicked up, and, of course, the girls had to hold on. The boys liked the +holding on part. Young men went courting always on Saturday night. The +girls wouldn't suffer any hugging before eleven o'clock—unless the old +folk were remarkably early to bed. Candles were scarce in those days, so +that billing and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> cooing was done by very dim fire-light. <i>O, le bon +temps!</i> I've forgot whether that's Latin or French.</p> + +<p>The pedagogue was the intellectual and moral centre of the neighborhood. +He was of higher authority, even in the law, than the Justice of the +Peace. He was consulted on all subjects, and, as a rule, his decisions +were final, and went upon the people's record as law. His jurisdiction +was unlimited, as to subject matter or amount, and, as to the person, +was unquestioned. Of course his territory was bounded by the +circumstances of each particular case.</p> + +<p>I just now recollect quite a number of pedagogues who in turn ruled me +in my youthful days. Of one of them I never think without feeling a +strange sadness steal over me. He was a young fellow whom to know was to +love; pale, delicate, tender-hearted. He taught us two terms and we all +thought him the best teacher in the world. He was so kind to us, so +gentle and mild-voiced, so prone to pat us on our heads and encourage +us. Some of the old people found fault with him because, as they +alleged, he did not whip us enough, but we saw no force in the +objection. Well, he took a cough and began to fail. He dismissed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> us one +fine May evening and we saw him no more alive. We all followed him, in a +solemn line, to his grave, and for a long time thereafter we never spoke +of him except in a low, sad whisper. As for me, till long afterwards, +the hushed wonder of his white face haunted my dreams. I have now in my +possession a little bead money-purse he gave me.</p> + +<p>Blodgett came next, and here my story properly begins. Blodgett—who, +having once seen him, could ever forget Blodgett? Not I. He was too +marked a man to ever wholly fade from memory. He was, as I have said, a +perfect type of his kind, and his kind was such as should not be sneered +at. He was one of the humble pioneers of American letters. He was a +character of which our national history must take account. He was one of +the vital forces of our earlier national growth. He was in love with +learning. He considered the matter of imparting knowledge a mere +question of effort, in which the physical element preponderated. If he +couldn't talk or read it into one he took a stick and mauled it into +him. This mauling method, though somewhat distasteful to the subject, +always had a charming result—red eyes, a few blubbers and a good +lesson. The technical name of this method<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> was "<i>Warming the Jacket</i>." +It always seemed to me that the peewee birds sang very dolefully after I +had had my jacket warmed. I recollect my floggings at school with so +much aversion that I do think, if a teacher should whale one of my +little ruddy-faced boys, I'd spread his (the teacher's) nose over his +face as thin as a rabbit skin! I'd run both his eyes into one and chew +his ears off close to his head, sir! Forgive my earnestness, but I can't +stand flogging in schools. It's brutal.</p> + +<p>From the first day that Blodgett came circulating his school "articles" +among us, we took to him by common consent as a wonderfully learned man. +I think his strong, wise looking face, and reserved, pompous manners, +had much to do with making this impression. We believed in him fully, +and for a long time gave him unfaltering loyalty. As for me, I never +have wholly withdrawn my allegiance. I look back, even now, and admire +him. I sigh, thinking of the merry days when he flourished. I solemnly +avow my faith in progress. I know the world advances every day, still I +doubt if men and women are more worthy now than they were in the time of +the pedagogues. I don't know but what, after all, I am somewhat of a +fogy. Any how, I will not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> for the sake of pleasing your literary +<i>swallows</i>—your eclectics of to-day—turn in and berate my dear old +Blodgett. In his day men could not and did not skim the surface of +things like swallows on a mill pond. They <i>dived</i>, and got what they did +get from the bottom, and by honest labor. Whenever one of your +silk-winged swallows skims past me and whispers progress, I cannot help +thinking of Heyne, Jean Paul and—Blodgett. Somehow genius and poverty +are great cronies. It used to be more so than it is now. Blodgett was a +genius, and, consequently, poor. He was virtuous, and, of course, happy. +He was a Democrat and a Hard Shell Baptist, and he might never have +swerved from the path of rectitude, even to the extent of a hair's +breadth, if it had not been for the coming of a not over scrupulous +rival into the neighboring village. But I must not hasten. A little more +and I would have blurted out the whole nub of my story. Bear with me. I +have nothing of the "lightning calculator" in me. I must take my time.</p> + +<p>It has been agreed that biography must include somewhat of physical +portraiture. "What sort of looking man was Blodgett?" I will tell you as +nearly as I can, but bear in mind it is a long time since I saw him, +and, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> the meanwhile, the world has been so washed, and combed, and +trimmed, and pearl powdered, that one can scarcely be sure he recollects +things rightly. The seedy dandy who teaches the free schools of to-day, +is, no doubt, all right as things go; but then the way they go—that's +it! As for finding some one of these dapper, umbrella-lugging, +green-spectacled, cadaverous teachers to compare with our burly +Blodgett, the thing is preposterous.</p> + +<p>Our pedagogue, when he first came among us, was, as nearly as I can +judge, about forty, and a bachelor, tall, raw-boned, lean-faced, and +muscular—a man of many words, and big ones, but not over prone to seek +audience of the world. To me, a boy of twelve, he appeared somewhat +awful, especially when plying the beech rod for the benefit of a future +man, and I do still think that something harder than mere sternness +slept or woke in and around the lines of his strong, flat jaws—that +something sharper than acid shrewdness lurked in his light gray eyes, +and that surely a more powerful expression than ordinary brute obstinacy +lingered about his firm mouth and smoothly shaven chin.</p> + +<p>Blodgett had a mighty body and a mighty will, joined with a +self-appreciation only bounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> by his power to generate it. This, added +to the deep deference with which he was approached by everybody, made +him not a little arrogant and despotic—though, doubtless, he was less +so than most men, under like circumstances, would have been. His years +sat lightly on him. His step was youthful though slouching, his raven +hair was bright and wavy, his skin had the tinge of vigorous health, and +in truth he was not far from handsome. His voice was nasal, but +pleasantly so.</p> + +<p>I cannot hope to give you more than a faint idea of the absolute power +vested in Blodgett by the men, women and children of the school +vicinage; suffice it to say that his view was a <i>sine qua non</i> to every +neighborhood opinion, his words the basis of neighborhood action in all +matters of public interest. If he pronounced the parson's last sermon a +failure, at once the entire church agreed in condemning it, not only as +a failure but a consummate blunder. If he hinted that a certain new +comer impressed him unfavorably, the nincompoop was summarily kicked out +of society. In fact, in the pithy phraseology of these latter days, "it +was dangerous to be safe" about where he lived.</p> + +<p>Thus, for a long time, Blodgett ruled with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> an iron hand his little +world, with no one to dream of disputing his right or of doubting his +capacity, till at length fate let fall a bit of romance into the strong +but placid stream of his life, and tinged it all with rose color. He +wrote some poetry, but it is obsolete—that is, it is not now in +existence. While this streak of romance lasted he looked, for all the +world, like a gilt-edged mathematical problem drawn on rawhide.</p> + +<p>It was a great event in our neighborhood when Miss Grace Holland, a +yellow-haired, blue-eyed, very handsome and well educated young lady +from Louisville, Kentucky, came to spend the summer with Parson Holland, +our preacher, and the young woman's uncle. Kentucky girls are all sweet. +My wife was a Kentucky girl. All the young men fell in love with Miss +Holland right away, but it was of no use to them. Blodgett, in the +language of your fast youngsters, "shied his castor into the ring," and +what was there left for the others but to stand by and see the glory of +the pedagogue during the season of his wooing? It would have done your +eyes good to see the pedagogue "slick himself up" each Saturday evening +preparatory to visiting the parson's. He went into the details of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +toilette with an enthusiasm worthy a better result. Ordinarily he was +ostentatiously pious and grave, but now his nature began to slip its +bark and disclose an inner rind of real mirthfulness, which made him +quite pleasant company for Miss Holland, who, though a mere girl, was +sensible and old enough to enjoy the many marked peculiarities of the +pedagogue.</p> + +<p>On Blodgett's side it was love—just the blindest, craziest kind of +love, at first sight. As to Miss Holland, I cannot say. One never can +precisely say as to a woman; guessing at a woman's feelings, in matters +of love, is a little like wondering which makes the music, a boy's mouth +or the jewsharp—a doubtful affair.</p> + +<p>Great events never come singly. When it rains it pours. If you have seen +a bear, every stump is a bear. A few days after the advent of Miss +Holland came a pop-eyed, nervous, witty little fellow with a hand press, +and started a weekly paper in our village. A newspaper in town! It was +startling.</p> + +<p>Blodgett from the first seemed not to relish the innovation, but public +sentiment had set in too strongly in its favor for him to jeopardize his +reputation by any serious denunciations. A real live paper in our midst +was no small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> matter. Everybody subscribed, and so did Blodgett.</p> + +<p>It did, formerly, require a little brains to run a newspaper, and in +those days an editor was looked upon as nearly or quite as learned and +intelligent as a pedagogue; but everybody, however ignorant himself, +could not fail to see that one represented progress, the other +conservatism, and formerly most persons were Ultra-Conservatives. This, +of course, gave the pedagogue a considerable advantage.</p> + +<p>Of course Blodgett and the editor soon became acquainted. The latter, a +dapper Yankee, full of "get-up-and-snap," and alert to make way for his +paper, measured the pedagogue at a glance, seeing at once that a big +bulk of strong sense and a will like iron were enwrapped in the stalwart +Hoosier's brain. One of two things must be done. Blodgett must be +vanquished or his influence secured. He must be prevailed on to endorse +the <i>Star</i> (the new paper), or the <i>Star</i> must attack and destroy him at +once.</p> + +<p>Meantime the pedagogue grimly waited for an opportunity to demolish the +editor. The big Hoosier had no thought of compromise or currying favor. +He would sacrifice the little sleek, stuck-up, big-headed, pop-eyed, +Roman-nosed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> Yankee between his thumb nails as he would a flea. Blodgett +was a predestinarian of the old school, and was firmly imbedded in the +belief that from all eternity it had been fore-ordained that he was to +attend to just such fellows as the editor.</p> + +<p>Still, the little lady from Louisville took up so much of his time, and +so distracted his mind, that no well laid plan of attack could be +matured by the pedagogue. But when nations wish to fight it is easy to +find a pretext for war. So with individuals. So with the editor and +Blodgett. They soon came to open hostilities and raised the black flag. +What an uproar it did make in the county!</p> + +<p>This war seemed to come about quite naturally. It had its beginning in a +debating society, where Blodgett and the editor were leading +antagonists. The question debated was, "Which has done more for the +cause of human liberty, Napoleon or Wellington?"</p> + +<p>Two village men and two countrymen were the jury to decide which side +offered the best argument. The jury was out all night and finally +returned a split verdict, two of them standing for Blodgett and two for +the editor. Of course it was town against country—the villagers for the +editor, the country folk for the pedagogue.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>"Huzza for the little editor!" cried the town people.</p> + +<p>"'Rah for Blodgett!" bawled the lusty country folk.</p> + +<p>The matter quickly came to blows at certain parts of the room. Jim +Dowder caught Phil Gates by the hair and snatched him over two seats. +Sarah Jane Beaver hit Martha Ann Randall in the mouth with a reticule +full of hazel nuts. Farmer Heath choked store-keeper Jones till his face +was as blue as moderate-like indigo. Old Mrs. Baber pulled off Granny +Logan's wig and threw it at 'Squire Hank. But Pete Develin wound the +thing up with a most disgraceful feat. He seized a bucket half full of +water and deliberately poured it right on top of the editor's head.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of trouble and fun. Some lawsuits grew out of it +and some hard fisticuffs. All the country-folk sided with Blodgett—the +towns-folk with the editor. The <i>Star</i> began to get dim, but the editor, +shrewd dog, when he saw how things were turning, at once took up the +question of Napoleon <i>vs.</i> Wellington in his journal, kindly and +condescendingly offering his columns to Blodgett for the discussion.</p> + +<p>The pedagogue foolishly accepted the challenge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> and thus laid the +stones upon which he was to fall. So the antagonists sharpened their +goose quills and went at it. In sporting circles the proverb runs: never +bet on a man's own trick. Blodgett ought to have known better than to go +to the editor's own ground to fight.</p> + +<p>I have always suspected that Miss Holland did much to shear our Samson +of his strength. She certainly did, wittingly or unwittingly, occupy too +much of his time and thought. Poor fellow! he would have given his life +for her. He often looked at her, with his head turned a little one side, +sadly, thoughtfully, as I have seen a terrier look at a rat hole, as +though he half expected disappointment.</p> + +<p>The battle in the <i>Star</i> began in very earnest. It was a harvest for the +shrewd journalist. Everybody took the <i>Star</i> while the discussion was +going on. Everybody took sides, everybody got mad, and almost everybody +fought more or less. Even Parson Holland and the village preacher had +high words and ceased to recognize each other. As for the young lady +from Louisville, she had little to say about the discussion, though +Blodgett always read to her each one of his articles first in MS. and +then in the <i>Star</i> after it was printed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>Well, finally, in the very height of the war of words, the editor, in +one of his articles, indulged in Latin. As you are aware, when an editor +gets right down to pan-rock Latin, it's a sure sign he's after somebody. +This instance was no exception to the general rule. He was baiting for +the pedagogue. The pedagogue swallowed hook and all.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nil de mortuis nisi bonum</i>," said the editor, "is my motto, which may +be freely translated: 'If you can't say something good of the dead, keep +your tarnal mouth shut about them!'"</p> + +<p>Blodgett started as he read this, and for a full minute thereafter gazed +steadily and inquiringly on vacancy. At length his great bony right hand +opened slowly, then quickly shut like a vice.</p> + +<p>"I have him! I have him!" he muttered in a murderous tone, "I'll crush +him to impalpable dust!" He forthwith went for a small Latin lexicon and +began busily searching its pages. It was Saturday evening, and so busily +did he labor at what was on his mind, he came near forgetting his +regular weekly visit to Miss Holland.</p> + +<p>He did not forget it, however. He went; without pointing out to her the +exact spot so vulnerable to his logical arrows, he told her in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> a +confidential and confident way that his next letter would certainly make +an end of the editor. He told her that, at last, he had the shallow +puppy where he could expose him thoroughly. Of course Miss Holland was +curious to know more, but, with a grim smile, Blodgett shook his head, +saying that to insure utter victory he must keep his own counsel.</p> + +<p>The next day, though the Sabbath, was spent by the pedagogue writing his +crusher for the <i>Star</i>. He wrote it and re-wrote it, over and over +again. He almost ruined a Latin grammar and the afore-mentioned lexicon. +He worked till far in the night, revising and elaborating. His gray eyes +burned like live coals—his jaws were set for victory.</p> + +<p>That week was one of intense excitement all over the county, for somehow +it had come generally to be understood that the pedagogue's forthcoming +essay was to completely defeat and disgrace the editor. Work, for the +time, was mostly suspended. The school children did about as they +pleased, so that they were careful not to break rudely in upon +Blodgett's meditations.</p> + +<p>On the day of its issue the <i>Star</i> was in great demand. For several +hours the office was crowded with eager subscribers, hungry for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> copy. +The 'Squire and two constables had some trouble to keep down a genuine +riot.</p> + +<p>The following is an exact copy of Blodgett's great essay:</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">Mr. Editor</span>—<span class="smcap">Sir</span>: This, for two reasons, is my last article for +your journal. Firstly: My time and the exigencies of my +profession will not permit me to further pursue a discussion +which, on your part, has degenerated into the merest twaddle. +Secondly: It only needs, at my hands, an exposition of the +false and fraudulent claims you make to classical attainments, +to entirely annihilate your unsubstantial and wholly undeserved +popularity in this community, and to send you back to peddling +your bass wood hams and maple nutmegs. In order to put on a +false show of erudition, you lug into your last article a +familiar Latin sentence. Now, sir, if you had sensibly foregone +any attempt at translation, you might, possibly, have made some +one think you knew a shade more than a horse; but "whom the +gods would destroy they first make mad."</p> + +<p class="blockquot">You say, "<i>De mortuis nil nisi bonum</i>" may be freely +translated, "If you can't say something good of the dead, keep +your tarnal mouth shut about them!" Shades of Horace and +Praxiteles! What would Pindar or Cæsar say? But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> I will not +jest at the expense of sound scholarship. In conclusion, I +simply submit the following <i>literal translation</i> of the Latin +sentence in question: "<i>De</i>—of, <i>mortuis</i>—the dead, +<i>nil</i>—nothing, <i>nisi</i>—but, <i>bonum</i>—goods," so that the whole +quotation may be rendered as follows—"Nothing (is left) of the +dead but (their) goods." This is strictly according to the +dictionary. Here, so far as I am concerned, this discussion +ends.</p> + +<p class="bqright"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your ob't serv't,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">T. Blodgett.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The country flared into flames of triumph. Blodgett's friends stormed +the village and "<i>bully-ragged</i>" everybody who had stood out for the +editor. The little Yankee, however, did not appear in the least +disconcerted. His clear, blue, pop-eyes really seemed twinkling with +half suppressed joy. Blodgett put a copy of the <i>Star</i> into his pocket +and stalked proudly, victoriously, out of town.</p> + +<p>After supper he dressed himself with scrupulous care and went over to +see Miss Holland. Rumor said they were engaged to be married, and I +believe they were.</p> + +<p>On this particular evening the young lady was enchantingly pretty, +dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, her bright yellow hair flowing +full and free down upon her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> plump shoulders, her face radiant with +health and high spirits. She met the pedagogue at the door with more +than usual warmth of welcome. He kissed her hand. All that he said to +her that evening will never be known. It is recorded, however, that, +when he had finished reading his essay to her, she got up and took from +her travelling trunk a "Book of Foreign Phrases," and examined it +attentively for a time, after which she was somewhat uneasy and +reticent. Blodgett observed this, but he was too dignified to ask an +explanation.</p> + +<p>The "last day" of Blodgett's school was at hand. The "exhibition" came +off on Saturday. Everybody went early. The pedagogue was in his glory. +He did not know the end was so near. A little occurrence, toward +evening, however, seemed to foreshadow it.</p> + +<p>Blodgett called upon the stage a bright eyed, ruddy faced lad, his +favorite pupil, to translate Latin phrases. The boy, in his Sunday best, +and sleekly combed, came forth and bowed to the audience, his eyes +luminous with vivacity. The little fellow was evidently precocious—a +rapid if not a very accurate thinker—one of those children who always +have an answer ready, right or wrong.</p> + +<p>After several preliminary questions, very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> promptly and satisfactorily +disposed of, Blodgett said:</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, translate <i>Monstrum horrendum informe ingens</i>."</p> + +<p>Quick as lightning the child replied:</p> + +<p>"The horrid monster informed the Indians!"</p> + +<p>Fury! The face of the pedagogue grew livid. He stretched forth his hand +and took the boy by the back of the neck. The curtain fell, but the +audience could not help hearing what a flogging the boy got. It was +terrible.</p> + +<p>Even while this was going on a rumor rippled round the outskirts of the +audience—for you must know that the "exhibition" was held under a bush +arbor erected in front of the school house door—a rumor, I say, rippled +round the outer fringe of the audience. Some one had arrived from the +village and copies of the <i>Star</i> were being freely distributed. Looks of +blank amazement flashed into people's faces. The name of the editor and +that of Prof. W——, of Wabash College, began to fly in sharp whispers +from mouth to mouth. The crowd reeled and swayed. Men began to talk +aloud. Finally everybody got on his feet and confusion and hubbub +reigned supreme. The exhibition was broken up. Blodgett came out of the +school house upon the stage when he heard the noise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> He gazed around. +Some one thrust a copy of the <i>Star</i> into his hand.</p> + +<p>Poor Blodgett! We may all fall. The crowd resolved itself into an +indignation meeting then and there, at which the following extract from +the <i>Star</i> was read, followed by resolutions dismissing and disgracing +Blodgett:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"The following letter is rich reading for those who have so +long sworn by T. Blodgett. We offer no comment:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Editor of the Star</span>—<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: In answer to your letter +requesting me to decide between yourself and Mr. Blodgett as to +the correct English rendering of the Latin sentence '<i>De +mortuis nil nisi bonum</i>,' allow me to say that your free +translation is a good one, if not very literal or elegant. As +to Mr. Blodgett's, if the man is sincere, he is certainly crazy +or wofully illiterate; no doubt the latter.</p> + +<p class="bqright"><span style="margin-right: 5em;">"Very respectfully,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"W——,</span><br /> +"<i>Prof. Languages, Wabash College.</i>"</p> + +<p>Blodgett walked away from the school house into the dusky June woods. He +knew that it was useless to contend against the dictum of a college +professor. His friends knew so too, so they turned to rend him. He was +dethroned and discrowned forever. He was boarding at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> my father's then, +and I can never forget the haggard, wistful look his face wore when he +came in that evening. I have since learned that he went straight from +the scene of his disgrace to Miss Holland, whom he found inclined to +laugh at him. The next week he collected what was due him and left for +parts unknown.</p> + +<p>I was over at parson Holland's, playing with his boys.</p> + +<p>The game was mumble peg.</p> + +<p>I had been rooting a peg out of the ground and my face was very dirty. +We were under a cherry tree by a private hedge. Presently Miss Holland +came out and began, girl-like, to pluck and eat the half ripe cherries. +The wind rustled her white dress and lifted the gold floss of her +wonderful hair. The birds chattered and sang all round us; the white +clouds lingered overhead like puffs of steam vanishing against the +splendid blue of the sky. The fragrance of leaf and fruit and bloom was +heavy on the air. The girl in white, the quiet glory of the day, the +murmur of the unsteady wind stream flowing among the dark leaves of the +orchard and hedge, the charm of the temperature, and over all, the +delicious sound of running water from the brook hard by, all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +harmonized, and in a tender childish mood I quit the game and lolled at +full length on the ground, watching the fascinating face of the young +lady as she drifted about the pleasant places of the orchard. Suddenly I +saw her fix her eyes in a surprised way in a certain direction. I looked +to see what had startled her, and there, half leaning over the hedge, +stood Blodgett.</p> + +<p>His face was ghastly in its pallor, and deep furrows ran down his jaws. +His gray eyes had in them a look of longing blended with a sort of stern +despair. It was only for a moment that his powerful frame toppled above +the hedge, but he is indelibly pictured in my memory just as he then +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Miss Holland, good-bye."</p> + +<p>How dismally hollow his voice sounded! Ah! it was pitiful. I neither saw +nor heard of him after that. Years have passed since then. Blodgett is, +likely, in his grave, but I never think of him without a sigh.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I was in the old neighborhood, and, to my surprise, learned +that the old log school house was still standing. So I set out alone to +visit it. I found it rotten and shaky, serving as a sort of barn in +which a farmer stows his oats, straw and corn fodder. The genius<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> of +learning has long since flown to finer quarters. The great old chimney +had been torn down or had fallen, the broad boards of the roof, held on +by weight poles, were deeply covered with moss and mould, and over the +whole edifice hung a gloom—a mist of decay.</p> + +<p>I leaned upon a worm fence hard by and gazed through the long vacant +side window, underneath which our writing shelf used to be, sorrowfully +dallying with memory; not altogether sorrowfully either, for the glad +faces of children that used to romp with me on the old play ground +floated across my memory, clothed in the charming haze of distance, and +encircled by the halo of tender affections. The wind sang as of old, and +the bird songs had not changed a jot. Slowly my whole being crept back +to the past. The wonders of our progress were all forgotten. And then +from within the old school room came a well remembered voice, with a +certain nasal twang, repeating slowly and sternly the words:</p> + +<p>"<i>Arma virumque cano</i>;" then there came a chime of silver tones—"School +is out!—School is out!" And I started, to find that I was all alone by +the rotting but blessed old throne and palace of the pedagogue.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><span class="smcap">An Idyl of the Rod.</span></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>It was as pretty a country cottage as is to be found, even now, in all +the Wabash Valley, situated on a prominent bluff, overlooking the broad +stretches of bottom land, and giving a fine view of the wide winding +river. The windows and doors of this cottage were draped in vines, among +which the morning glory and the honeysuckle were the most luxuriant; +while on each side of the gravelled walk, that led from the front +portico to the dooryard gate, grew clusters of pinks, sweet-williams and +larkspurs. The house was painted white, and had green window +shutters—old fashioned, to be sure, but cosy, homelike and tasty +withal. Everything pertaining to and surrounding the place had an air of +methodical neatness, that betokened great care and scrupulous order on +the part of the inmates.</p> + +<p>About the hour of six on a Monday morning, in the month of May, a fine, +hearty, intelligent looking lad of twelve years walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> slowly up the +path which led from the old orchard to the house. He was dressed in +loose trowsers of bottle green jeans, a jacket of the same, heavy boots +and a well worn wool hat. The boy's shoulders stooped a little, and a +slight hump discovered itself at the upper portion of his back. His face +was strikingly handsome, being fair, bright, healthful, and marked with +signs of great precocity of intellect, albeit it wore just now an +indescribable, faintly visible shade, as of innocent perplexity, or, +possibly, grief. His mind was evidently not at ease, but the varying +shadows that chased each other across the mild depths of his clear, +vivacious eyes would have stumped a physiognomist. Between a laugh and a +cry, but more like a cry; between defiance and utter shame, but more +like the latter; his cheeks and lips took on every shade of pallor and +of flush. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved along, and cast rapid +glances in every direction, as if afraid of being seen. "Whippoo-tee, +tippoo-tee-tee-e!" sang a great cardinal red bird in the apple tree over +his head. He flung a stone at the bird with terrible energy, but missed +it.</p> + +<p>The mistress of the cottage was at this time in the kitchen preparing +for the week's washing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> for do not all good Hoosier housewives wash on +Monday? She was a middle aged, stoutly built, healthy matron, sandy +haired, slightly freckled, blue eyed and quick in her movements. Usually +smiling and happy, it was painful to see how she struggled now to master +the emotions of great grief and sadness that constantly arose in her +bosom, like spectres that would not be driven away.</p> + +<p>A bright eyed, golden haired lass of sixteen was in the breakfast room +washing the dishes and singing occasional snatches from a mournful +ditty. It was sad, indeed, to see a cloud of sorrow on a face so fresh +and sweet.</p> + +<p>Mr. Coulter, the head of the family, and owner of the cottage and its +lands, stood near the centre of the sitting room with his hands crossed +behind him, gazing fixedly and sadly on the picture of a sweet child +holding a white kitten in its lap, which picture hung on the wall over +against the broad fire-place. A look of sorrow betrayed itself even in +the dark, stern visage of the man. He drew down his shaggy eyebrows and +occasionally pulled his grizzled moustache into his mouth and chewed it +fiercely. Evidently he was chafing under his grief.</p> + +<p>The cottage windows were wide open, as is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> the western custom in fine +weather, and the fragrance of spice wood and sassafras floated in on the +flood tide of pleasant air, while from the big old locust tree down by +the fence fell the twittering prelude to a finch's song. A green line of +willows and a thin, pendulous stratum of fog marked the way of the +river, plainly visible from the west window, and through the white haze +flocks of teal and wood ducks cut swiftly in their downward flight to +the water. A golden flicker sang and hammered on the gate-post the while +he eyed a sparrow-hawk that wheeled and screamed high over head. The dew +was like little mirrors in the grass.</p> + +<p>The lad entered the kitchen and said to his mother, in a voice full of +tenderness, though barely audible:</p> + +<p>"Mammy, where's pap?"</p> + +<p>"In the front room, Billy," replied the matron solemnly, quaveringly.</p> + +<p>Passing into the breakfast room, Billy looked at his sister and a flash +of sympathetic sorrow played back and forth from the eyes of one to +those of the other; then he went straight into the sitting room and +handed something to Mr. Coulter. It was a moment of silence and +suspense. Out in the orchard the cherry and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> apple blooms were falling +like pink and white snow.</p> + +<p>The man looked down at his boy sadly, sorrowfully, regretfully. He drew +his face into a stern frown. The lad looked up into his father's eyes +timidly, ruefully, strangely. It was a living tableau no artist could +reproduce. It was the moment before a crisis.</p> + +<p>"Billy," said the father gravely, "I took your mother and sister to +church yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Billy.</p> + +<p>"And left you to see to things," continued the man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied the boy, gazing through the window at the flicker as +it hitched down the gate-post and finally dropped into the grass with a +shrill chirp.</p> + +<p>"And you didn't water them pigs!"</p> + +<p>"O-o-o! Oh, sir! Geeroody! O me! ouch! lawsy! lawsy! mercy me!"</p> + +<p>The slender scion of an apple tree, in the hand of Mr. Coulter, rose and +fell, cutting the air like a rapier, and up from the jacket of the lad, +like incense from an altar, rose a cloud of dust mingled with the nap of +jeans. Down in the young clover of the meadow the larks and sparrows +sang cheerily; the gnats and flies danced up and down in the sunshine, +the fresh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> soft young leaves of the vines rustled like satin, and all +was merry indeed!</p> + +<p>Billy's eyes were turned upward to the face of his father in appealing +agony; but still the switch, with a sharp hiss, cut the air, falling +steadily and mercilessly on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>All along the green banks of the river the willows shook their shining +fingers at the lifting fog, and the voices of children going by to the +distant school smote the sweet May wind.</p> + +<p>"Whippee! Whippee-tippee-tee!" sang the cardinal bird.</p> + +<p>"O pap! ouch! O-o-o! I'll not forget to water the pigs no more!"</p> + +<p>"S'pect you won't, neither!" said the man.</p> + +<p>The wind, by a sudden puff, lifted into the room a shower of white bloom +petals from a sweet apple tree, letting them fall gracefully upon the +patchwork carpet, the while a ploughman whistled plaintively in a +distant field.</p> + +<p>"Crackee! O pap! ouch! O-o-o! You're a killin' me!"</p> + +<p>"Shet your mouth 'r I'll split ye to the backbone in a second! Show ye +how to run off fishin' with Ed Jones and neglect them pigs! Take every +striffin of hide off'n ye!"</p> + +<p>How many delightful places in the woods, how many cool spots beside the +murmuring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> river, would have been more pleasant to Billy than the place +he just then occupied! He would have swapped hides with the very pigs he +had forgot to water.</p> + +<p>"O, land! O, me! Geeroody me!" yelled the lad.</p> + +<p>"Them poor pigs!" rejoined the father.</p> + +<p>Still the dust rose and danced in the level jet of sunlight that fell +athwart the room from the east window, and the hens out at the barn +cackled and sang for joy over new laid eggs stowed away in cosy places.</p> + +<p>At one time during the falling of the rod the girl quit washing the +dishes, and thrusting her head into the kitchen said, in a subdued tone:</p> + +<p>"My land! Mammy, ain't Bill a gittin' an awful one this load o' poles?"</p> + +<p>"You're moughty right!" responded the matron, solemnly.</p> + +<p>Along toward the last Mr. Coulter tip-toed at every stroke. The switch +actually screamed through the air. Billy danced and bawled and made all +manner of serio-comic faces and contortions.</p> + +<p>"Now go, sir," cried the man, finally tossing the frizzled stump of the +switch out through the window. "Go now, and next time I'll be bound you +water them pigs!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>And, while the finch poured a cataract of melody from the locust tree, +Billy went.</p> + +<p>Poor boy! that was a terrible thrashing, and to make it worse, it had +been promised to him on the evening before, so that he had been dreading +it and shivering over it all night!</p> + +<p>Now, as he walked through the breakfast room, his sister looked at him +in a commiserating way, but on passing through the kitchen he could not +catch the eye of his mother.</p> + +<p>Finally he stood in the free open air in front of the saddle closet. It +was just then that a speckled rooster on the barn yard fence flapped his +wings and crowed lustily. A turkey cock was strutting on the grass by +the old cherry tree.</p> + +<p>Billy opened the door of the closet. "A boy's will is the wind's will, +and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Billy peeped into +the saddle closet and then cast a glance around him, as if to see if any +one was near.</p> + +<p>At length, during a pleasant lull in the morning wind, and while the +low, tenderly mellow flowing of the river was distinctly audible, and +the song of the finch increased in volume, and the bleating of new born +lambs in the meadow died in fluttering echoes under the barn, and while +the fragrance of apple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> blooms grew fainter, and while the sun, now +flaming just a little above the eastern horizon, launched a shower of +yellow splendors over him from head to foot, he took from under his +jacket behind a doubled sheep skin with the wool on, which, with an +ineffable smile, he tossed into the closet. Then, as the yellow flicker +rose rapidly from the grass, Billy walked off, whistling the air of that +once popular ballad—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"O give me back my fifteen cents,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And give me back my money," &c.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">Transcriber's Notes:</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.</span><br /> +<br/> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Punctuation has been corrected without note.</span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Mosaics, by Maurice Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + +***** This file should be named 36148-h.htm or 36148-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/4/36148/ + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hoosier Mosaics + +Author: Maurice Thompson + +Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36148] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + Affectionately to my Father, + The Reverend GRIGG THOMPSON. + + + + + HOOSIER MOSAICS. + + By MAURICE THOMPSON. + + + NEW YORK: + E. J. HALE & SON, PUBLISHERS, + MURRAY STREET. + 1875. + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by + E. J. HALE & SON, + In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE. + + _WAS SHE A BOY?_ _7_ + + TROUT'S LUCK, 29 + + _BIG MEDICINE_, _50_ + + _THE VENUS OF BALHINCH_, _76_ + + THE LEGEND OF POTATO CREEK, 92 + + _STEALING A CONDUCTOR_, _114_ + + HOIDEN, 127 + + THE PEDAGOGUE, 162 + + AN IDYL OF THE ROD, 188 + + + + +WAS SHE A BOY? + + +No matter what business or what pleasure took me, I once, not long ago, +went to Colfax. Whisper it not to each other that I was seeking a +foreign appointment through the influence of my fellow Hoosier, the late +Vice-President of the United States. O no, I didn't go to the Hon. +Schuyler Colfax at all; but I went to Colfax, simply, which is a little +dingy town, in Clinton County, that was formerly called Midway, because +it is half way between Lafayette and Indianapolis. It was and is a place +of some three hundred inhabitants, eking out an aguish subsistence, +maintaining a swampy, malarious aspect, keeping up a bilious, nay, an +atra-bilious color, the year round, by sucking like an attenuated leech +at the junction, or, rather, the crossing of the I. C. & L., and the L. +C. & S. W. railroads. It lay mouldering, like something lost and +forgotten, slowly rotting in the swamp. + +I do not mean to attack the inhabitants of Colfax, for they were good +people, and deserved a better fate than the eternal rattling the ague +took them through from year's end to year's end. Why, they had had the +ague so long that they had no respect for it at all. I've seen a woman +in Colfax shaking with a chill, spanking a baby that had a chill, and +scolding a husband who had a chill, all at once--and I had a dreadful +ague on me at the same time! But, as I have said, they were good people, +and I suppose they are still. They go quietly about the usual business +of dead towns. They have "stores" in which they offer for sale calico, +of the big-figured, orange and red sort, surprisingly cheap. They smoke +those little Cuba sixes at a half cent apiece, and call them cigars; +they hang round the depot, and trade jack-knives and lottery watches on +the afternoons of lazy Sundays; they make harmless sport of the incoming +and outgoing country folk; and, in a word, keep pretty busy at one thing +or another, and above all--they shake. + +In Colfax the chief sources of exciting amusement are dog fights and an +occasional row at Sheehan's saloon, a doggery of the regular +old-fashioned, drink, gamble, rob and fight sort--a low place, known to +all the hard bats in the State. + +As you pass through the town you will not fail to notice a big sign, +outhanging from the front of the largest building on the principal +street, which reads: "Union Hotel, 1865." From the muddy suburbs of the +place, in every direction, stretch black muck swamps, for the most part +heavily timbered with a variety of oaks, interspersed with sycamores, +ash, and elms. In the damp, shady labyrinths of these boggy woods +millions of lively, wide awake, tuneful mosquitoes are daily +manufactured; and out from decaying logs and piles of fermenting leaves, +from the green pools and sluggish ditch streams, creeps a noxious gas, +known in that region as the "double refined, high pressure, forty hoss +power quintessential of the ager!" So, at least, I was told by the +landlord of the Union Hotel, and his skin had the color of one who knew. + +Notwithstanding what I have said, Colfax, in summer, is not wholly +without attractions of a certain kind. It has some yellow dogs and some +brindle ones; it has some cattle and some swine; it has some swallows +and some spotted pigeons; it has cool, fresh smelling winds, and, after +the water has sufficiently dried out, the woods are really glorious +with wild roses, violets, turkey-pea blossoms, and wild pinks. But to +my story. + +I was sitting on the long veranda of the Union Hotel, when a rough but +kindly voice said to me: + +"Mornin', stranger; gi' me a light, will ye?" + +I looked up from the miserable dime novel at which I had been tugging +for the last hour, and saw before me a corpulent man of, perhaps, +forty-five years of age, who stood quite ready to thrust the charred end +of a cigar stump into the bowl of my meerschaum. I gave him a match, and +would fain have returned to Angelina St. Fortescue, the heroine of the +novel, whom I had left standing on the extreme giddy verge of a sheer +Alpine precipice, known, by actual triangulation, to be just seven +thousand feet high, swearing she would leap off if Donald Gougerizeout, +the robber, persisted further in his rough addresses; but my new friend, +the corpulent smoker, seemed bent on a little bit of conversation. + +"Thankee, sir. Fine mornin', sir, a'n't it?" + +"Beautiful," I replied, raising my head, elevating my arms, and, by a +kind of yawn, taking in a deep draught of the fresh spring weather, +absorbing it, assimilating it, till, like a wave of retarded +electricity, it set my nerves in tune for enjoying the bird songs, and +filled my blood with the ecstasy of vigorous health and youth. I, no +doubt, just then felt the burden of life much less than did the big +yellow dog at my feet, who snapped lazily at the flies. + +"Yes, yes, this 'ere's a fine mornin'--julicious, sir, julicious, +indeed; but le' me tell ye, sir, this 'ere wind's mighty deceitful--for +a fact it is, sir, jist as full of ager as a acorn is of meat. It's +blowin' right off'n ponds, and is loaded chock down with the miasm--for +a fact it is, sir." + +While delivering this speech, the fat man sat down on the bench beside +me there in the veranda. By this time I had my thumbs in the arm holes +of my vest, and my chest expanded to its utmost--my lungs going like a +steam bellows, which is a way I have in fine weather. + +"Monstrous set o' respiratory organs, them o' your'n," he said, eyeing +my manoeuvres. Just then I discovered that he was a physician of the +steam doctor sort, for, glancing down at my feet, I espied his well worn +leather medicine bags. I immediately grew polite. Possibly I might ere +long need some quinine, or mandrake, or a hot steam bath--anything for +the ague! + +"Yes, I've got lungs like a porpoise," I replied, "but still the ague +may get me. Much sickness about here, Doctor----a----a----what do they +call your name?" + +"Benjamin Hurd--Doctor Hurd, they call me. I'm the only thorer bred +botanic that's in these parts. I do poorty much all the practice about +here. Yes, there's considerable of ager and phthisic and bilious fever. +Keeps me busy most of my time. These nasty swamps, you know." + +After a time our conversation flagged, and the doctor having lit a fresh +cigar, we smoked in silence. The wind was driving the dust along the +street in heavy waves, and I sat watching a couple of lean, spotted +calves making their way against the tide. They held their heads low and +shut their eyes, now and then bawling vigorously. Some one up stairs was +playing "Days of Absence" on a wretched wheezing accordeon. + +"There's a case of asthma, doctor," I said, intending to be witty. But +my remark was not noticed. The doctor was in a brown study, from which +my words had not startled him. Presently he said, as if talking to +himself, and without taking the cigar from his mouth: + +"'Twas just a year ago to-night, the 28th day of May, 'at they took 'er +away. And he'll die afore day to a dead certainty. Beats all the denied +queer things I ever seed or heerd of." + +He was poking with the toe of his boot in the dust on the veranda floor, +as he spoke, and stealing a glance at his face, I saw that it wore an +abstracted, dreamy, perplexed look. + +"What was your remark, doctor?" I asked, more to arouse him than from +any hope of being interested. + +"Hum!--ah, yes," he said, starting, and beginning a vigorous puffing. +"Ah, yes, I was cogitatin' over this matter o' Berry Young's. Never have +been able to 'count for that, no how. Think about it more an' more every +day. What's your theory of it?" + +"Can't say, never having heard anything of it," I replied. + +"Well, I do say! Thought everybody had hearn of that, any how! It's a +rale romance, a reg'lar mystery, sir. It's been talked about, and writ +about in the papers so much 'at I s'posed 'at it was knowed of far and +wide." + +"I've been in California for several years past," I replied, by way of +excuse for my ignorance of even the vaguest outline of the affair, +whatever it might be. + +"Well, you see, a leetle more'n a year ago a gal an' her father come +here and stopped at this 'ere very hotel. The man must 'a' been som'res +near sixty years old; but the gal was young, and jist the poortiest +thing I ever seed in all my life. I couldn't describe how she looked at +all; but everybody 'at saw her said she was the beautifulest creatur +they ever laid eyes onto. Where these two folks come from nobody ever +knowed, but they seemed like mighty nice sort of persons, and everybody +liked 'em, 'specially the gal. Somehow, from the very start, a kind of +mystery hung 'round 'em. They seemed always to have gobs o' money, and +onct in awhile some little thing'd turn up to make folks kinder juberous +somehow 'at they wasn't jist what they ginerally seemed to be. But that +gal was fascinatin' as a snake, and as poorty as any picter. Her flesh +looked like tinted wax mixed with moon-shine, and her eyes was as clear +as a lime-stone spring--though they was dark as night. She was that full +of restless animal life 'at she couldn't set still--she roamed round +like a leopard in a cage, and she'd romp equal to a ten-year-old boy. +Well, as mought be expected, sich a gal as that 'ere 'd 'tract attention +in these parts, and I must say 'at the young fellows here did git +'bominable sweet on her. 'Casionally two of 'em 'd git out in the swamps +and have a awful fight on her 'count; but she 'peared to pay precious +little 'tention to any of 'em till finally Berry Young stepped in and +jist went for 'er like mad, and she took to 'm. Berry was r'ally the +nicest and intelligentest young man in all this country. He writ poetry +for the papers, sir--snatchin' good poetry, too--and had got to be +talked of a right smart for his larnin', an' 'complishments. He was good +lookin', too; powerful handsome, for a fact, sir. So they was to be +married, Berry and the gal, an' the time it was sot, an' the day it +come, an' all was ready, an' the young folks was on the floor, and the +'squire was jist a commencin' to say the ceremony, when lo! and +beholden, four big, awful, rough lookin' men rushed in with big pistols +and mighty terrible bowie knives, and big papers and big seals, and said +they was a sheriff and possum from Kaintucky. They jist jumped right +onto the gal an' her father an' han'cuffed 'em, an' took 'em!" + +"Handcuffed them and took them!" I repeated, suddenly growing intensely +interested. This was beating my dime novel, for sensation, all hollow. + +"Yes, sir, han'cuffed 'em an' took 'em, an' away they went, an' they've +not been hearn of since to this day. But the mysteriousest thing about +the whole business was that when the sheriff grabbed the gal he called +her George, and said she wasn't no gal at all, but jist a terrible onery +boy 'at had been stealin' an' counterfeitin' an' robbin' all round +everywhere. What d'ye think of that?" + +"A remarkably strange affair, certainly," I replied; "and do you say +that the father and the girl have not since been heard from?" + +"Never a breath. The thing got into all the newspapers and raised a +awful rumpus, and it turned out that it wasn't no sheriff 'at come +there; but some dark, mysterious kidnappin' transaction 'at nobody could +account for. Detectives was put on their track an' follered 'em to Injun +territory an' there lost 'em. Some big robberies was connected with the +affair, but folks could never git head nor tail of the partic'lers." + +"And it wasn't a real sheriff's arrest, then?" said I. + +"No, sir, 'twas jist a mystery. Some kind of a dodge of a band of +desperadoes to avoid the law some way. The papers tried to explain it, +but I never could see any sense to it. 'Twas a clean, dead mystery. But +I was goin' on to tell ye 'at Berry Young took it awful hard 'bout the +gal, an' he's been sort o' sinkin' away ever sence, an' now he's jist +ready to wink out. Yonder's where Berry lives, in that 'ere white +cottage house with the vines round the winder. He's desp'rit sick--a +sort o' consumption. I'm goin' to see 'im now; good mornin' to ye." + +Thus abruptly ending our interview, the doctor took up his medicine bag +and went his way. He left me in a really excited state of mind; the +story of itself was so strange, and the narrator had told it so solemnly +and graphically. I suppose, too, that I must have been in just the +proper state of mind for that rough outline, that cartoon of a most +startling and mysterious affair, to become deeply impressed in my mind, +perhaps, in the most fascinating and fantastic light possible. A thirst +to know more of the story took strong hold on my mind, as if I had been +reading a tantalizing romance and had found the leaves torn out just +where the mystery was to be explained. I half closed my eyes to better +keep in the lines and shades of the strange picture. Its influence lay +upon me like a spell. I enjoyed it. It was a luxury. + +The wings of the morning wind fanned the heat into broken waves, rising +and sinking, and flowing on, with murmur and flash and glimmer, to the +cool green ways of the woods, and, like the wind, my fancy went out +among golden fleece clouds and into shady places, following the thread +of this new romance. I cannot give a sufficient reason why the story +took so fast a hold on me. But it did grip my mind and master it. It +appeared to me the most intensely strange affair I had ever heard of. + +While I sat there, lost in reflection, with my eyes bent on a very +unpromising pig, that wallowed in the damp earth by the town pump, the +landlord of the hotel came out and took a seat beside me. I gave him a +pipe of my tobacco and forthwith began plying him with questions +touching the affair of which the doctor had spoken. He confirmed the +story, and added to its mystery by going minutely into its details. He +gave the names of the father and daughter as Charles Afton and Ollie +Afton. + +Ollie Afton! Certainly no name sounds sweeter! How is it that these +gifted, mysteriously beautiful persons always have musical names! + +"Ah," said the landlord, "you'd ort to have seen that boy!" + +"Boy!" I echoed. + +"Well, gal or boy, one or t'other, the wonderfulest human bein' I ever +see in all the days o' my life! Lips as red as ripe cur'n's, and for +ever smilin'. Such smiles--oonkoo! they hurt a feller all over, they was +so sweet. She was tall an' dark, an' had black hair that curled short +all 'round her head. Her skin was wonderful clear and so was her eyes. +But it was the way she looked at you that got you. Ah, sir, she had a +power in them eyes, to be sure!" + +The pig got up from his muddy place by the pump, grunted, as if +satisfied, and slowly strolled off; a country lad drove past, riding +astride the hounds of a wagon; a pigeon lit on the comb of the roof of +Sheehan's saloon, which was just across the street, and began pluming +itself. Just then the landlord's little sharp-nosed, weasel-eyed boy +came out and said, in a very subdued tone of voice: + +"Pap, mam says 'at if you don't kill 'er that 'ere chicken for dinner +you kin go widout any fing to eat all she cares." + +The landlord's spouse was a red-headed woman, so he got up very suddenly +and took himself into the house. But before he got out of hearing the +little boy remarked: + +"Pap, I speaks for the gizzard of that 'ere chicken, d'ye hear, now?" + +I sat there till the dinner hour, watching the soft pink and white +vapors that rolled round the verge of the horizon. I was thoroughly +saturated with romance. Strange, that here, in this dingy little +out-of-the-way village, should have transpired one of the most wonderful +mysteries history may ever hold! + +At dinner the landlord talked volubly of the Afton affair, giving it as +his opinion that the Aftons were persons tinged with negro blood, and +had been kidnapped into slavery. + +"They was jist as white, an' whiter, too, than I am," he went on, "but +them Southerners'd jist as soon sell one person as 'nother, anyhow." + +I noticed particularly that the little boy got his choice bit of the +fowl. He turned his head one side and ate like a cat. + +When the meal was over I was again joined by Doctor Hurd on the +verandah. He reported Berry Young still alive, but not able to live till +midnight. I noticed that the doctor was nervous and kept his eyes fixed +on Sheehan's saloon. + +"Stranger," said he, leaning over close to me, and speaking in a low, +guarded way, "things is workin' dasted curious 'bout now--sure's gun's +iron they jist is!" + +"Where--how--in what way, doctor?" I stammered, taken aback by his +behavior. + +"Sumpum's up, as sure as Ned!" he replied, wagging his head. + +"Doctor," I said, petulantly, "if you would be a trifle more explicit I +could probably guess, with some show of certainty, at what you mean!" + +"Can't ye hear? Are ye deaf? Did ye ever, in all yer born days, hear a +voice like that ere 'un? Listen!" + +Sure enough, a voice of thrilling power, a rich, heavy, quavering alto, +accompanied by some one thrumming on a guitar, trickled and gurgled, and +poured through the open window of Sheehan's saloon. The song was a wild, +drinking carol, full of rough, reckless wit, but I listened, entranced, +till it was done. + +"There now, say, what d'ye think o' that? Ain't things a workin' round +awful curious, as I said?" + +Delivering himself thus, the doctor got up and walked off. + +When I again had an opportunity to speak to the landlord, I asked him if +Doctor Hurd was not thought to be slightly demented. + +"What! crazy, do you mean? No, sir; bright as a pin!" + +"Well," said I, "he's a very queer fellow any how. By the way, who was +that singing just now over in the saloon there?" + +"Don't know, didn't hear 'em. Some of the boys, I s'pose. They have some +lively swells over there sometimes. Awful hole." + +I resumed my dime novel, and nothing further transpired to aggravate or +satisfy my curiosity concerning the strange story I had heard, till +night came down and the bats began to wheel through the moonless +blackness above the dingy town. At the coming on of dusk I flung away +the book and took to my pipe. Some one touched me on the shoulder, +rousing me from a deep reverie, if not a doze. + +"Ha, stranger, this you, eh? Berry Young's a dyin'; go over there wi' +me, will ye?" + +It was the voice of Doctor Hurd. + +"What need for me have you?" I replied, rather stiffly, not much +relishing this too obtrusive familiarity. + +"Well--I--I jist kinder wanted ye to go over. The poor boy's 'bout +passin' away, an' things is a workin' so tarnation curious! Come 'long +wi' me, friend, will ye?" + +Something in the fellow's voice touched me, and without another word I +arose and followed him to the cottage. The night was intensely black. I +think it was clear, but a heavy fog from the swamps had settled over +everything, and through this dismal veil the voices of owls from far and +near struck with hollow, sepulchral effect. + +"A heart is the trump!" sang out that alto voice from within the saloon +as we passed. + +Doctor Hurd clutched my arm and muttered: + +"That's that voice ag'in! Strange--strange! Poor Berry Young!" + +We entered the cottage and found ourselves in a cosy little room, where, +on a low bed, a pale, intelligent looking young man lay, evidently +dying. He was very much emaciated, his eyes, wonderfully large and +luminous, were sunken, and his breathing quick and difficult. A haggard, +watching-worn woman sat by his bed. From her resemblance to him I took +her to be his sister. She was evidently very unwell herself. We sat in +silence by his bedside, watching his life flow into eternity, till the +little clock on the mantel struck, sharp and clear, the hour of ten. + +The sound of the bell startled the sick man, and after some incoherent +mumbling he said, quite distinctly: + +"Sister, if you ever again see Ollie Afton, tell him--tell her--tell, +say I forgive him--say to her--him--I loved her all my life--tell +him--ah! what was I saying? Don't cry, sis, please. What a sweet, +faithful sister! Ah! it's almost over, dear----Ah, me!" + +For some minutes the sister's sobbing echoed strangely through the +house. The dying man drew his head far down in the soft pillow. A breath +of damp air stole through the room. + +All at once, right under the window by which the bed sat, arose a +touching guitar prelude--a tangled mesh of melody--gusty, throbbing, +wandering through the room and straying off into the night, tossing back +its trembling echoes fainter and fainter, till, as it began to die, that +same splendid alto voice caught the key and flooded the darkness with +song. The sick man raised himself on his elbow, and his face flashed out +the terrible smile of death. He listened eagerly. It was the song "Come +Where my Love lies Dreaming," but who has heard it rendered as it was +that night? Every chord of the voice was as sweet and witching as a wind +harp's, and the low, humming undertone of the accompaniment was +perfection. Tenderly but awfully sweet, the music at length faded into +utter silence, and Berry Young sank limp and pallid upon his pillows. + +"It is Ollie," he hoarsely whispered. "Tell her--tell him--O say to her +for me--ah! water, sis, it's all over!" + +The woman hastened, but before she could get the water to his lips he +was dead. His last word was Ollie. + +The sister cast herself upon the dead man's bosom and sobbed wildly, +piteously. Soon after this some neighbors came in, which gave me an +opportunity to quietly take my leave. + +The night was so foggy and dark that, but for a bright stream of light +from a window of Sheehan's saloon, it would have been hard for me to +find my way back to the hotel. I did find it, however, and sat down upon +the verandah. I had nearly fallen asleep, thinking over the strange +occurrences of the past few hours, when the rumble of an approaching +train of cars on the I. C. & L. from the east aroused me, and, at the +same moment, a great noise began over in the saloon. High words, a few +bitter oaths, a struggle as of persons fighting, a loud, sonorous crash +like the crushing of a musical instrument, and then I saw the burly bar +tender hurl some one out through the doorway just as the express train +stopped close by. + +"All aboard!" cried the conductor, waving his lantern. At the same +time, as the bar-tender stood in the light of his doorway, a brickbat, +whizzing from the darkness, struck him full in the face, knocking him +precipitately back at full length on to the floor of the saloon. + +"All aboard!" repeated the conductor. + +"All aboard!" jeeringly echoed a delicious alto voice; and I saw a +slender man step up on the rear platform of the smoking car. A flash +from the conductor's lantern lit up for a moment this fellow's face, and +it was the most beautiful visage I have ever seen. Extremely youthful, +dark, resplendent, glorious, set round with waves and ringlets of black +hair--it was such a countenance as I have imagined a young Chaldean +might have had who was destined to the high calling of astrology. It was +a face to charm, to electrify the beholder with its indescribable, +almost unearthly loveliness of features and expression. + +The engine whistled, the bell rang, and as the train moved on, that +slender, almost fragile form and wonderful face disappeared in the +darkness. + +As the roar and clash of the receding cars began to grow faint in the +distance, a gurgling, grunting sound over in the saloon reminded me that +the bar-tender might need some attention, so I stepped across the +street and went in. He was just taking himself up from the floor, with +his nose badly smashed, spurting blood over him pretty freely. He was in +an ecstasy of fury and swore fearfully. I rendered him all the aid I +could, getting the blood stopped, at length, and a plaster over the +wound. + +"Who struck you?" I asked. + +"Who struck me? Who hit me with that 'ere brick, d'ye say? Who but that +little baby-faced, hawk-eyed cuss 'at got off here yesterday! He's a +thief and a dog!--he's chowzed me out'n my last cent! Where is he?--I'll +kill 'im yet! where is he?" + +"Gone off on the train," I replied, "but who is he? what's his name?" + +"Blamed if I know. Gone, you say? Got every derned red o' my money! +Every derned red!" + +"Don't you know anything at all about him?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"What?" + +"I know 'at he's the derndest, alfiredest, snatchin'est, best +poker-player 'at ever dealt a card!" + +"Is that all?" + +"That's enough, I'd say. If you'd been beat out'n two hundred an' odd +dollars you'd think you know'd a right smart, wouldn't ye?" + +"Perhaps," said I. The question had a world of philosophy and logic in +it. + +The shattered wreck of a magnificent guitar lay in the middle of the +floor. I picked it up, and, engraved on a heavy silver plate set in the +ebony neck, I read the name, Georgina Olive Afton. + + + + +TROUT'S LUCK. + + +As early as eight o'clock the grand entrance gateway to the Kokomo fair +ground was thronged with vehicles of almost every kind; horsemen, +pedestrians, dogs and dust were borne forward together in clouds that +boiled and swayed and tumbled. Noise seemed to be the chief purpose of +every one and the one certain result of every thing in the crowd. + +This had been advertised as the merriest day that might ever befall the +quiet, honest folk of the rural regions circumjacent to Kokomo, and it +is even hinted that aristocratic dames and business plethoric men of the +town itself had caught somewhat of the excitement spread abroad by the +announcement in the county papers, and by huge bills posted in +conspicuous places, touching Le Papillon and his monster balloon, which +balloon and which Le Papillon were pictured to the life, on the said +posters, in the act of sailing over the sun, and under the picture, in +remarkably distinct letters, "No humbug! go to the fair!" + +Dozier's minstrel troupe was dancing and singing attendance on this +agricultural exhibition, too, and somebody's whirling pavilion, a +shooting gallery, a monkey show, the glass works, and what not of +tempting promises of entertainments, "amusing and instructive." + +Until eleven o'clock the entrance gateway to the fair ground was +crowded. Farm wagons trundled in, drawn by sleek, well fed plough nags, +and stowed full of smiling folk, old and young, male and female, from +the out townships; buggies with youths and maidens, the sparkle of +breastpins and flutter of ribbons; spring wagons full of students and +hard bats from town; carriages brimming with laces, flounces, over +skirts, fancy kid gloves, funny little hats and less bonnets, all +fermented into languid ebullition by mild-eyed ladies; omnibuses that +bore fleshy gentlemen, who wore linen dusters and silk hats and smoked +fine cigars; and jammed in among all these were boys on skittish colts, +old fellows on flea-bit gray mares, with now and then a reckless +stripling on a mule. Occasionally a dog got kicked or run over, giving +the assistance of his howls and yelps to the general din, and over all +the dust hung heavily in a yellow cloud, shot through with the lightning +of burnished trappings and echoing with the hoarse thunder of the +trampling, shouting rumbling multitude. Indeed, that hot aguish autumn +day let fall its sunshine on the heads and blew its feverish breath +through the rifts of the greatest and liveliest mass of people ever +assembled in Howard county. + +Inside the extensive enclosure the multitude divided itself into +streams, ponds, eddies, refluent currents and noisy whirlpools of +people. Some rare attraction was everywhere. + +Early in the day the eyes of certain of the rustic misses followed +admiringly the forms of Jack Trout and Bill Powell, handsome young +fellows dressed in homespun clothes, who, arm in arm, strolled leisurely +across the grounds, looking sharply about for some proper place to begin +the expenditure of what few dimes they had each been able to hoard up +against this gala day. They had not long to hunt. On every hand the +"hawkers hawked their wares." + +Rising and falling, tender-toned, deftly managed, a voice rang out +across the crowd pleading with those who had long desired a good +investment for their money, and begging them to be sure and not let slip +this last golden opportunity. + +"Only a half a dollah! Come right along this way now! Here's the great +golden scheme by which thousands have amassed untold fortunes! Here's +your only and last chance to get two ounces of first class candy, with +the probability of five dollars in gold coin, all for the small sum of +half a dollah! And the cry is--still they come!" + +The speaker was such a man as one often observes in a first class +railway car, with a stout valise beside him containing samples, dressed +with remarkable care, and ever on the alert to make one's acquaintance. +He stood on top of a small table or tripod, holding in his hand a green +pasteboard package just taken from a box at his feet. + +"Only a half a dollah and a fortune in your grasp! Here's the gold! Roll +right this way and run your pockets over!" + +Drifting round with the tide of impulsive pleasure seekers into which +they happened to fall, Jack Trout and Bill Powell floated past a bevy of +lasses, the prettiest of whom was Minny Hart, a girl whose healthy, +vivid beauty was fast luring Jack on to the rock of matrimonial +proposals. + +"Jimminy, but ain't she a little sweety!" exclaimed the latter, pinching +Bill's arm as they passed, and glancing lovingly at Minny. + +"You're tellin' the truth and talkin' it smooth," replied Bill, bowing +to the girls with the swagger peculiar to a rustic who imagines he has +turned a fine period. And with fluttering hearts the boys passed on. + +"Roll on ye torrents! Only a half a dollah! Right this way if you want +to become a bloated aristocrat in less than no time! Five dollahs in +gold for only a half a dollah! And whose the next lucky man?" + +Blown by the fickle, gusty breath of luck, our two young friends were +finally wafted to the feet of this oily vendor of prize packages, and +they there lodged, becalmed in breathless interest, to await their turn, +each full of faith in the yellow star of his fortune--a gold coin of the +value of five dollars. They stood attentively watching the results of +other men's investments, feeling their fingers tingle when now and then +some lucky fellow drew the coveted prize. Five dollars is a mighty +temptation to a poor country boy in Indiana. That sum will buy oceans of +fun at a fair where almost any "sight" is to be seen for the "small sum +of twenty-five cents!" + +Without stopping to take into consideration the possible, or rather, the +probable result of such a venture, Bill Powell handed up his half +dollar to the prize man, thus risking the major part of all the money he +had, and stood trembling with excitement while the fellow broke open the +chosen package. Was it significant of anything that a blue jay fluttered +for a moment right over the crier's head just at the point of his +detaching some glittering object from the contents of the box? + +"Here you are, my friend; luck's a fortune!" yelled the man, as he held +the gold coin high above his head, shaking it in full view of all eyes +in the multitude. "Here you are! which 'd you rather have, the gold or +five and a half in greenbacks?" + +"Hand me in the rag chips--gold don't feel good to my fingers," answered +Bill Powell, swaggering again and grasping the currency with a hand that +shook with eagerness. + +Jack Trout stood by, clutching in his feverish palm a two-dollar bill. +His face was pale, his lips set, his muscles rigid. He hesitated to +trust in the star of his destiny. He stood eyeing the bridge of Lodi, +the dykes of Arcole. Would he risk all on a bold venture? His right +shoulder began to twitch convulsively. + +"Still it rolls, and who's the next lucky man? Don't all speak at once! +Who wants five dollahs in gold and two ounces of delicious candy, all +for the small sum of half a dollah?" + +Jack made a mighty effort and passed up his two dollar bill. + +"Bravely done; select your packages!" cried the vendor. Jack tremblingly +pointed them out. Very carelessly and quietly the fellow opened them, +and with a ludicrous grimace remarked-- + +"Eight ounces of mighty sweet candy, but nary a prize! Better luck next +time! Only a half a dollah! And who's the next lucky man?" + +A yell of laughter from the crowd greeted this occurrence, and Jack +floated back on the recoiling waves of his chagrin till he was hidden in +the dense concourse, and the uppermost thought in his mind found +forcible expression in the three monosyllables: "Hang the luck!" + +It is quite probable that of all the unfortunate adventurers that day +singed in the yellow fire of that expert gambler's gold, Jack recognized +himself as the most terribly burned. Putting his hands into his empty +pockets, he sauntered dolefully about, scarcely able to look straight +into the face of such friends as he chanced to meet. He acted as if +hunting for something lost on the ground. Poor fellow, it was a real +relief to him when some one treated him to a glass of lemonade, and, +indeed, so much were his feelings relieved by the cool potation, that +when, soon after, he met Minny Hart, he was actually smiling. + +"O, Jack!" cried the pretty girl, "I'm so glad to see you just now, for +I do want to go into the minstrel show _so bad_!" She shot a glance of +coquettish tenderness right into Jack's heart. For a single moment he +was blessed, but on feeling for his money and recalling the luckless +result of his late venture, he felt a chill creep up his back, and a +lump of the size of his fist jump up into his throat. Here was a bad +affair for him. He stood for a single point of time staring into the +face of his despair, then, acting on the only plan he could think of to +escape from the predicament, he said: + +"Wait a bit, Minny, I've got to go jist down here a piece to see a +feller. I'll be back d'rectly. You stay right here and when I come back +I'll trot you in." + +So speaking, as if in a great hurry, and sweating cold drops, with a +ghastly smile flickering on his face, the young man slipped away into +the crowd. + +Minny failed to notice his confusion, and so called after him cheerily: +"Well, hurry, Jack, for I'm most dead to see the show!" + +What could Trout do? He spun round and round in that vast flood of +people like a fish with but one eye. He rushed here, he darted there, +and ever and anon, as a lost man returns upon his starting point, he +came in sight of sweet Minny Hart patiently waiting for his return. Then +he would spring back into the crowd like a deer leaping back into a +thicket at sight of a hunter. Penniless at the fair, with Minny Hart +waiting for him to take her into the show! Few persons can realize how +keenly he now felt the loss of his money. He ought, no doubt, to have +told the lass at once just how financial matters stood; but nothing was +more remote from his mind than doing anything of the kind. He was too +vain. + +"Tell 'er I 'ain't got no money! No, sir-ee!" he muttered. "But what +_am_ I to do? Bust the luck! Hang the luck! Rot the luck!" + +He hurried hither and thither, intent on nothing and taking no heed of +the course he pursued. His cheeks were livid and his eyes had in them +that painful, worried, wistful look so often seen in the eyes of men +going home from ruin on Wall street. + +Meantime that sea of persons surged this way and that, flecked with a +foam of ribbons and dancing bubbles of hats, now flowing slowly through +the exhibition rooms a tide of critics, now breaking into groups and +scattered throngs of babblers, anon uniting to roar round some novel +engine suddenly set to work, or to break on the barrier of the trolling +ring into a spray of cravats and a mist of flounces. Swimming round in +this turbulent tide like a crazy flounder with but one fin, Jack finally +found himself hard by the pavilion of the minstrels. He could hear +somewhat of the side-splitting jokes, with the laughs that followed, the +tinkle of banjo accompaniments and the mellow cadences of plantation +songs, the rattle of castanets and the tattoo of the jig dancers' feet. +A thirst like the thirst of fever took hold of him. + +"Come straight along gentlemen and ladies! This celebrated troupe is now +performing and twenty-five cents pays the bill! Only a quawtah of a +dollah!" bawled the fat crier from his lofty perch. "That's right, my +young man, take the young lady in! She's sure to love you better; walk +right along!" + + "Her lip am sweet as sugah, + Her eye am bright as wine, + Dat yaller little boogah + Her name am Emiline!" + +sung by four fine voices, came bubbling from within. The music thrilled +Jack to the bone, and he felt once more for his money. Not a cent. This +was bad. + +"You're the lad for me," continued the fat man on the high seat; "take +your nice little sweetheart right in and let her see the fun. Walk right +in!" + +Jack looked to see who it was, and a pang shot through his heart and +settled in the very marrow of his bones; for lo! arm in arm, Bill Powell +and Minny Hart passed under the pavilion into the full glory of the +show! + + "O cut me up for fish bait + An' feed me to de swine, + Don't care where I goes to + So I has Emiline!" + +sang the minstrel chorus. + +"Dast him, he's got me!" muttered Jack as Bill and Minny disappeared +within. He turned away, sick at heart, and this was far from the first +throe of jealousy he had suffered on Bill's account. Indeed it had given +him no little uneasiness lately to see how sweetly Minny sometimes +smiled on young Powell. + +"Yes, sir," Jack continued to mutter to himself, "yes, sir, he's got me! +He's about three lengths ahead o' me, as these hoss fellers says, an' I +don't know but what I'm distanced. Blow the blasted luck!" + +Heartily tired of the fair, burning with rage, and jealousy, and +despair, but still vaguely hoping against hope for some better luck from +some visionary source, Jack strolled about, chewing the bitter cud of +his feelings, his hands up to his elbows in his trowser pockets and his +soul up to its ears in the flood of discontent. He puckered his mouth +into whistling position, but it refused to whistle. He felt as if he had +a corn cob crossways in his throat. The wind blew his new hat off and a +mule kicked the top out of the crown. + +"Only a half a dollah! Who's the next lucky man?" cried the prize +package fellow. "I'm now going to sell a new sort of packages, each of +which, beside the usual amount of choice candy, contains a piece of +jewelry of pure gold! Who takes the first chance for only a half a +dollah?" + +"'Ere's your mule!" answered Bill Powell, as with Minny still clinging +to his arm, he pushed through the crowd and handed up the money. + +"Bravely done!" shouted the crier; "see what a beautiful locket and +chain! Luck's a fortune! And who's the next to invest? Come right along +and don't be afraid of a little risk! Only a half a dollah!" + +Jack saw Bill put the glittering chain round Minny's neck and fasten the +locket in her belt; saw the eyes of the sweet girl gleam proudly, +gratefully; saw black spots dancing before his own eyes; saw Bill +swagger and toss his head. He turned dizzily away, whispering savagely, +"Dern 'im!" + +Just here let me say that such an expression is not a profane one. I +once saw a preacher kick at a little dog that got in his way on the +sidewalk. The minister's foot missed the little dog and hit an iron +fence, and the little dog bit the minister's other leg and jumped +through the fence. The minister performed a _pas de zephyr_ and very +distinctly said "Dern 'im!" Wherefore I don't think it can be anything +more than a mere puff of fretfulness. + +After this Jack was for some time standing near the entrance to the +"glass-works," a place where transparent steam engines and wonderful +fountains were on exhibition. He felt a grim delight in tantalizing +himself with looking at the pictures of these things and wishing he had +money enough to pay the entrance fee. He saw persons pass in eagerly +and come out calm and satisfied--men with their wives and children, +young men with girls on their arms, prominent among whom were Bill and +Minny, and one dapper sportsman even bought a ticket for his setter, +and, patting the brute on the head, took him in. + +"Onery nor a dog!" hissed Jack, shambling off, and once more taking a +long deep dive under the surface of the crowd. A ground swell cast him +again near the vender of prize packages. + +"Only a half a dollah!" he yelled; "come where fortune smiles, and cares +and poverty take flight, for only a half a dollah!" + +"Jist fifty cents more'n I've got about my clothes!" replied Jack, and +the bystanders, taking this for great wit, joined in a roar of laughter, +while with a grim smile the desperate youth passed on till he found +himself near the toe mark of a shooting gallery, where for five cents +one might have two shots with an air gun. He stood there for a time +watching a number of persons try their marksmanship. It was small joy to +know that he was a fine off-hand shot, so long as he had not a nickel in +his pocket, but still he stood there wishing he might try his hand. + +"Cl'ar the track here! Let this 'ere lady take a shoot!" cried a +familiar voice; and a way was opened for Bill Powell and Minny Hart. The +little maiden was placed at the toe mark and a gun given to her. She +handled the weapon like one used to it. She raised it, shut one eye, +took deliberate aim and fired. + +"Centre!" roared the marker, as to the sound of a bell the funny little +puppet leaped up and grinned above the target. Every body standing near +laughed and some of the boys cheered vociferously. Minny looked sweeter +than ever. Jack Trout felt famished. He begged a chew of tobacco of a +stranger, and, grinding the weed furiously, walked off to where the +yellow pavilion with its painted air-boats was whirling its cargoes of +happy boys and girls round and round for the "Small sum of ten cents." A +long, lean, red-headed fellow in one of the boats was paying for a ride +of limitless length by scraping on a miserable fiddle. To Jack this +seemed small labor for so much fun. How he envied the fiddler as he flew +round, trailing his tunes behind him! + +"Wo'erp there! Stop yer old merchine! We'll take a ride ef ye don't +keer!" + +The pavilion was stopped, a boat lowered for Bill Powell and Minny Hart, +who got in side by side, and the fiddler struck up the tune of +"Black-eyed Susie." Jack watched that happy couple go round and round, +till, by the increased velocity, their two faces melted into one, which +was neither Bill's nor Minny's--it was Luck's! + +"He's got one outo me," muttered Jack; "I've got no money, can't fiddle +for a ride, nor nothin', and I don't keer a ding what becomes o' me, +nohow!" + +With these words Jack wended his way to a remote part of the fair +ground, where, under gay awnings, the sutlers had spread their tempting +variety of cakes, pies, fruits, nuts and loaves. Here were persons of +all ages and sizes--men, women and children--eating at well supplied +tables. The sight was a fascinating one, and, though seeing others eat +did not in the least appease his own hunger, Jack stood for a long time +watching the departure of pies and the steady lessening of huge pyramids +of sweet cakes. He particularly noticed one little table that had on its +centre a huge peach pie, which table was yet unoccupied. While he was +actually thinking over the plan of eating the pie and trusting to his +legs to bear him beyond the reach of a dun, Bill and Minny sat down by +the table and proceeded to discuss the delicious, red-hearted heap of +pastry. At this point Bill caught Jack's eye: + +"Come here, Jack," said he; "this pie's more'n we can eat, come and help +us." + +"Yes, come along, Jack," put in Minny in her sweetest way; "I want to +tell you what a lot of fun we've had, and more than that, I want to know +why you didn't come back and take me into the show!" + +"I ain't hungry," muttered Jack, "and besides I've got to go see a +feller." + +He turned away almost choking. + +"Bill's got me. 'Taint no use talkin', I'm played out for good. I'm a +trumped Jack!" + +He smiled a sort of flinty smile at his poor wit, and shuffled aimlessly +along through the densest clots of the crowd. + +And it so continued to happen, that wherever Jack happened to stop for +any considerable length of time he was sure to see Bill and Minny +enjoying some rare treat, or disappearing in or emerging from some place +of amusement. + +At last, driven to desperation, he determined on trying to borrow a +dollar from his father. He immediately set about to find the old +gentleman; a task of no little difficulty in such a crowd. It was Jack's +forlorn hope, and it had a gloomy outlook; for old 'Squire Trout was +thought by competent judges to be the stingiest man in the county. But +hoping for the best, Jack hunted him here, there and everywhere, till at +length he met a friend who said he had seen the 'Squire in the act of +leaving the fair ground for home just a few minutes before. + +Taking no heed of what folks might say, Jack, on receiving this +intelligence, darted across the ground, out at the gate and down the +road at a speed worthy of success; but alas! his hopes were doomed to +wilt. At the first turn of the road he met a man who informed him that +he had passed 'Squire Trout some three miles out on his way home, which +home was full nine miles distant! + +Panting, crestfallen, defeated, done for, poor Jack slowly plodded back +to the fair ground gate, little dreaming of the new trouble that awaited +him there. + +"Ticket!" said a gruff voice as he was about to pass in. He recoiled, +amazed at his own stupidity, as he recollected that he had not thought +to get a check as he went out! He tried to explain, but it was no go. + +"You needn't try that game on me," said the gatekeeper. "So just plank +down your money or stay outside." + +Then Jack got furious, but the gatekeeper remarked that he had +frequently "hearn it thunder afore this!" + +Jack smiled like a corpse and turned away. Going a short distance down +the road he climbed up and sat down on top of the fence of a late mown +clover field. Then he took out his jack-knife and began to whittle a +splinter plucked from a rail. His face was gloomy, his eyes lustreless. +Finally he stretched himself, hungry, jealous, envious, hateful, on top +of the fence with his head between the crossed stakes. His face thus +upturned to heaven, he watched two crows drift over, high up in the +torrid reaches of autumn air, hot as summer, even hotter, and allowed +his lips free privilege to anathematize his luck. For a long time he lay +thus, dimly conscious of the blue bird's song and the water-like ripple +of the grass in the fence corners. "Minny, Minny Hart, Minny!" sang the +meadow larks, and the burden of the grasshopper's ditty was----"Only a +half a dollah!" + +All at once there arose from the fair ground a mighty chorus of yells, +that went echoing off across the country to the bluffs of Wild-cat Creek +and died far off in the woods toward Greentown. Jack did not raise his +head, but lay there in a sort of morose stupor, knowing well that +whatever the sport might be, he had no hand in it. + +"Let 'em rip!" he muttered, "Bill's got me!" + +Presently the wagons and other vehicles began to leave the ground, from +one of which he caught the sound of a sweet, familiar voice. He looked +just in time to get a glimpse of Mr. Hart's wagon, and in it, side by +side, Bill Powell and Minny! A cloud of yellow dust soon hid them, and +turning away his head, happening to glance upward, Jack saw, just +disappearing in a thin white cloud, the golden disc of Le Papillon's +balloon! + +He immediately descended from his perch and began plodding his way home, +muttering as he did so---- + +"Dast the luck! Ding the prize package feller! Doggone Bill Powell! +Blame the old b'loon! Dern everybody!" + +It was long after nightfall when he reached his father's gate. Hungry, +weak, foot-sore, collapsed, he leaned his chin on the top rail of the +gate and stood there for a moment while the starlight fell around him, +sifted through the dusky foliage of the old beech trees, and from the +far dim caverns of the night a voice smote on his ear, crying out +tenderly, mockingly, persuasively---- + +"Only a half a dollah!" + +And Jack slipped to his room and went supperless to bed, often during +the night muttering, through the interstices of his sleep----"Bill's got +me!" + + + + +BIG MEDICINE. + + +The corner brick storehouse--in fact the only brick building in +Jimtown--was to be sold at auction; and, consequently, by ten o'clock in +the morning, a considerable body of men had collected near the somewhat +dilapidated house, directly in front of which the auctioneer, a fat man +from Indianapolis, mounted on an old goods box, began crying, partly +through his tobacco-filled mouth and partly through his very unmusical +nose, as follows:-- + +"Come up, gentlemen, and examine the new, beautiful and commodious +property I now offer for sale! Walk round the house, men, and view it +from every side. Go into it, if you like, up stairs and down, and then +give me a bid, somebody, to start with. It is a very desirable house, +indeed, gentlemen." + +With this preliminary puff, the speaker paused and glanced slowly over +his audience with the air of a practiced physiognomist. The crowd +before him was, in many respects, an interesting one. Its most prominent +individual, and the hero of this sketch, was Dave Cook, sometimes called +Dr. Cook, but more commonly answering to the somewhat savage sounding +sobriquet of Big Medicine--a man some thirty-five years of age, standing +six feet six in his ponderous boots; broad, bony, muscular, a real +giant, with a strongly marked Roman face, and brown, shaggy hair. He was +dressed in a soiled and somewhat patched suit of butternut jeans, topped +off with a wide rimmed wool hat, wonderfully battered, and lopped in +every conceivable way. He wore a watch, the chain of which, depending +from the waistband of his pants, was of iron, and would have weighed +fully a pound avoirdupois. He stood quite still, near the auctioneer, +smoking a clay pipe, his herculean arms folded on his breast, his feet +far apart. As for the others of the crowd, they were, taken +collectively, about such as one used always to see in the "dark corners" +of Indiana, such as Boone county used to be before the building of any +railroads through it, such as the particular locality of Jimtown was +before the ditching law and the I. B. & W. Railway had lifted the fog +and enlightened the miasmatic swamps and densely timbered bog lands of +that region of elms, burr oaks, frogs and herons. Big Medicine seemed to +be the only utterly complacent man in the assembly. All the others +discovered evidences of much inward disturbance, muttering mysteriously +to each other, and casting curious, inquiring glances at an individual, +a stranger in the place, who, with a pair of queer green spectacles +astride his nose, and his arms crossed behind him, was slowly sauntering +about the building offered for sale, apparently examining it with some +care. His general appearance was that of a well dressed gentleman, which +of itself was enough to excite remark in Jimtown, especially when an +auction was on hand, and everybody felt jolly. + +"Them specs sticks to that nose o' his'n like a squir'l to a knot!" said +one. + +"His pantaloons is ruther inclined to be knock-kneed," put in an old, +grimy sinner leaning on a single barrelled shot gun. + +"Got lard enough onto his hair to shorten a mess o' pie crust," added a +liver colored boy. + +"Walks like he'd swallered a fence rail, too," chimed in a humpbacked +fellow split almost to his chin. + +"Chaws mighty fine terbacker, you bet." + +"Them there boots o' his'n set goin' an' comin' like a grubbin' hoe onto +a crooked han'le." + +"Well, take'm up one side and down t'other, he's a mod'rately onery +lookin' feller." + +These remarks were reckoned smart by those who perpetrated them, and +were by no means meant for real slurs on the individual at whom they +were pointed. Indeed they were delivered in guarded undertones, so that +he might not hear them; and he, meanwhile, utterly ignorant of affording +any sport, continued his examination of the house, the while some happy +frogs in a neighboring pond rolled out a rattling, jubilant chorus, and +the summer wind poured through the leafy tops of the tall elms and +athletic burr oaks with a swash and roar like a turbulent river. + +"What am I now offered for this magnificent property? Come, give me a +bid! Speak up lively! What do I hear for the house?" + +The auctioneer, as he spoke, let his eyes wander up the walls of the +old, dingy building, to where the blue birds and the peewees had built +in the cracks and along the warped cornice and broken window frames, and +just then it chanced that a woman's face appeared at one of those +staring holes, which, with broken lattice and shattered glass, still +might be called a window. The face was a plump, cheerful one, the more +radiant from contrast with the dull wall around it--a face one could +never forget, however, and would recall often, if for nothing but the +fine fall of yellow hair that framed it in. It was a sweet, winning, +intellectual face, full of the gentlest womanly charms. + +"Forty dollars for the house, 'oman and all!" cried Big Medicine, gazing +up at the window in which, for the merest moment, the face appeared. + +The man with the green spectacles darted a quick glance at the speaker. + +"I am bid forty dollars, gentlemen, forty dollars, do all hear? Agoing +for forty dollars! Who says fifty?" bawled the auctioneer. + +The crowd now swayed earnestly forward, closing in solid order around +the goods box. Many whiskered, uncouth, but not unkindly faces were +upturned to the window only in time to see the beautiful woman disappear +quite hastily. + +"Hooray for the gal!" cried a lusty youth, whose pale blue eyes made no +show of contrast with his faded hair and aguish complexion. "Dad, can't +ye bid agin the doctor so as I kin claim 'er?" + +"Fifty dollars!" shouted the sunburnt man addressed as Dad. + +This made the crowd lively. Every man nudged his neighbor, and the +aguish, blue-eyed boy grinned in a ghastly, self-satisfied way. + +"Agoing at fifty dollars! Fiddlesticks! The house is worth four +thousand. No fooling here now! Agoing at only fifty dollars--going--" + +"Six hundred dollars," said he of the green glasses in a clear, pleasant +voice. + +"Six hundred dollars!" echoed the auctioneer in a triumphant thunderous +tone. "That sounds like business. Who says the other hundred?" + +"Hooray for hooray, and hooray for hooray's daddy!" shouted the +tallow-faced lad. + +The frogs pitched their song an octave higher, the blue birds and +peewees wheeled through the falling floods of yellow sunlight, and lower +and sweeter rose the murmur of the tide of pulsating air as it lifted +and swayed the fresh sprays of the oaks and elms. The well dressed +stranger lighted a cigar, took off his green glasses and put them +carefully in his pocket, then took a cool straight look at Big Medicine. + +The Roman face of the latter was just then a most interesting one. It +was expressive of more than words could rightly convey. Six hundred +dollars, cash down, was a big sum for the crazy old house, but he had +made up his mind to buy it, and now he seemed likely to have to let it +go or pay more than it was worth. The stem of his clay pipe settled back +full three inches into his firmly-set mouth, so that there seemed +imminent danger to the huge brown moustache that overhung the fiery +bowl. He returned the stare of the stranger with interest, and said-- + +"Six hundred an' ten dollars." + +"Agoing, a----," began the auctioneer. + +"Six twenty," said the stranger. + +"Ago----." + +"Six twenty-one!" growled Big Medicine. + +"Six twenty-five!" quickly added his antagonist. + +Big Medicine glanced heavenward, and for a moment allowed his eyes to +follow the flight of a great blue heron that slowly winged its way, high +up in the yellow summer reaches of splendor, toward the distant swamps +where the white sycamores spread their fanciful arms above the dark +green maples and dusky witch-hazel thickets. The auctioneer, a close +observer, saw an ashy hue, a barely discernible shade, ripple across +the great Roman face as Big Medicine said, in a jerking tone: + +"Six twenty-five and a half!" + +The stranger took his cigar from his mouth and smiled placidly. No more +imperturbable countenance could be imagined. + +"Six twenty-six!" he said gently. + +"Take the ole house an' be derned to you!" cried Big Medicine, looking +furiously at his antagonist. "Take the blamed ole shacke-merack an' all +the cussed blue-birds an' peer-weers to boot, for all I keer!" + +Everybody laughed, and the auctioneer continued: + +"Agoing for six twenty-six! Who says seven hundred? Bid up lively! +Agoing once, agoing twice--once, twice, three-e-e-e-e times! Sold to +Abner Golding for six hundred and twenty-six dollars, and as cheap as +dirt itself!" + +"Hooray for the man who hed the most money!" shouted the tallow-faced +boy. + +The sale was at an end. The auctioneer came down from his box and wiped +his face with a red handkerchief. The crowd, as if blown apart by a puff +of wind, scattered this way and that, drifting into small, grotesque +groups to converse together on whatever topic might happen to suggest +itself. Big Medicine seemed inclined to be alone, but the irrepressible +youth of the saffron skin ambled up to him and said, in a tone intended +for comic: + +"Golly, doctor, but didn't that 'ere gal projuce a orful demand for the +ole house! Didn't she set the ole trap off when she peeked out'n the +winder!" + +Big Medicine looked down at the strapping boy, much as a lion might look +at a field rat or a weasel, then he doubled his hand into an enormous +fist and held it under the youth's nose, saying in a sort of growl as he +did so: + +"You see this 'ere bundle o' bones, don't ye?" + +"Guess so," replied the youth. + +"Well, would you like a small mess of it?" + +"Not as anybody knows of." + +"Well, then, keep yer derned mouth shet!" + +Which, accordingly, the boy proceeded to do, ambling off as quickly as +possible. + +About this time, the stranger, having put the green spectacles back upon +his nose, walked in the direction of 'Squire Tadmore's office, +accompanied by the young woman who had looked from the window. When Big +Medicine saw them he picked up a stick and began furiously to whittle it +with his jack-knife. His face wore a comically mingled look of chagrin, +wonder, and something like a new and thrilling delight. He puffed out +great volumes of smoke, making his pipe wheeze audibly under the vigor +of his draughts. He was certainly excited. + +"Orful joke the boys 'll have on me arter this," he muttered to himself. +"Wonder if the 'oman's the feller's wife? Monstrous poorty, shore's yer +born!" + +He soon whittled up one stick. He immediately dived for another, this +time getting hold of a walnut knot. A tough thing to whittle, but he +attacked it as if it had been a bit of white pine. Soon after this +'Squire Tadmore's little boy came running down from his father's office +to where Big Medicine stood. + +"Mr. Big Medicine," cried he, all out of breath, "that 'ere man what +bought the ole house wants to see you partic'ler!" + +"Mischief he does! Tell 'im to go to----; no, wait a bit. Guess I'll go +tell 'im myself." + +And, so saying, he moved at a slashing pace down to the door of the +'Squire's office. He thrust his great hirsute head inside the room, and +glaring at the mild mannered stranger, said: + +"D'ye want to see me?" + +Mr. Golding got up from his seat and coming out took Big Medicine +familiarly by the arm, meanwhile smiling in the most friendly way. + +"Come one side a little, I wish to speak with you privately, +confidentially." + +Big Medicine went rather sulkily along. When they had gone some distance +from the house Mr. Golding lifted his spectacles from his nose, and +turning his calm, smiling eyes full upon those of Big Medicine, said, +with a shrug of his finely cut shoulders: + +"I outbid you a little, my friend, but I'm blessed if I haven't got +myself into a ridiculous scrape on account of it." + +"How so?" growled Big Medicine. + +"Why, when I come to count my funds I'm short a half dollar." + +"You're what?" + +"I lack just a half dollar of having enough money to pay for the house, +and I thought I'd rather ask you to loan me the money than anybody else +here." + +Big Medicine stood for a time in silence, whittling away, as if for dear +life, on the curly knot. Dreamy gusts of perfumed heat swept by from +adjacent clover and wheat fields, where the blooms hung thick; little +whirlwinds played in the dust at their feet as little whirlwinds always +do in summer; and far away, faint, and made tenderly musical by +distance, were heard the notes of a country dinner-horn. Big Medicine's +ample chest swelled, and swelled, and then he burst at the mouth with a +mighty bass laugh, that went battling and echoing round the place. Mr. +Golding laughed too, in his own quiet, gentlemanly way. They looked at +each other and laughed, then looked off toward the swamps and laughed. +Big Medicine put his hands in his pockets almost up to the elbows, and +leaned back and laughed out of one corner of his mouth while holding his +pipe in the other. + +"I say, mister," said he at length, "a'n't you railly got but six +hundred and twenty-five an' a half?" + +"Just that much to a cent, and no more," replied Mr. Golding, with a +comical smile and bow. + +Big Medicine took his pipe from his mouth, gave the walnut knot he had +dropped a little kick and guffawed louder and longer than before. To +have been off at a little distance watching them would have convinced +any one that Mr. Golding was telling some rare anecdote, and that Big +Medicine was convulsed with mirth, listening. + +"Well I'm derned if 'taint quare," cried the latter, wringing himself +into all sorts of grotesque attitudes in the ecstasy of his amusement. +"You outbid me half a dollar and then didn't have the half a dollar +neither! Wha, wha, wha-ee!" and his cachinnations sounded like rolling +of moderate thunder. + +At the end of this he took out a greasy wallet and paid Mr. Golding the +required amount in silver coin. His chagrin had vanished before the +stranger's quiet way of making friends. + +A week passed over Jimtown. A week of as rare June weather as ever +lingered about the cool places of the woods, or glimmered over the sweet +clover fields all red with a blush of bloom, where the field larks +twittered and the buntings chirped, and where the laden bees rose +heavily to seek their wild homes in the hollows of the forests. By this +time it was generally known in Jimtown that Mr. Golding would soon +receive a stock of goods with which to open a "store" in the old corner +brick; but Big Medicine knew more than any of his neighbors, for he and +Golding had formed a partnership to do business under the "name and +style" of Cook & Golding. + +This Abner Golding had lately been a wealthy retail man in Cincinnati, +and had lost everything by the sudden suspension of a bank wherein the +bulk of his fortune was on deposit. His creditors had made a run on him +and he had been able to save just the merest remnant of his goods, and a +few hundred dollars in money. Thus he came to Jimtown to begin life and +business anew. + +To Big Medicine the week had been a long one; why, it would not be easy +to tell. No doubt there had come a turning point in his life. In those +days, and in that particular region, to be a 'store keeper' was no small +honor. But Big Medicine acted strangely. He wandered about, with his +hands in his pockets, whistling plaintive tunes, and often he was seen +standing out before the old corner brick, gazing up at one of the vacant +windows where pieces of broken lattice were swaying in the wind. At such +times he muttered softly to himself: + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal." + +Four big road wagons (loaded with boxes), three of them containing the +merchandise and one the scanty household furniture of Mr. Golding and +his daughter Carrie, came rumbling into Jimtown. Big Medicine was on +hand, a perfect Hercules at unloading and unpacking. Mr. Golding was +sadly pleasant; Carrie was roguishly observant, but womanly and quiet. + +The tallow-faced youth and two or three others stood by watching the +proceedings. The former occasionally made a remark at which the others +never failed to laugh. + +"Ef ye'll notice, now," said he, "it's a fac 'at whenever Big Medicine +goes to make a big surge to lift a box, he fust takes a peep at the gal, +an' that 'ere seems to kinder make 'im 'wax strong an' multiply,' as the +preacher says, an' then over goes the box!" + +"Has a awful effect on his narves," some one replied. + +"I'm a thinkin'," added tallow-face, "'at ef Big Medicine happens to +look at the gal about the time he goes to make a trade, it'll have sich +a power on 'im 'at he'll sell a yard o' caliker for nigh onto forty +dollars!" + +"Er a blanket overcoat for 'bout twelve an' a half cents!" put in +another. + +"I'm kinder weakly," resumed tallow-face with a comical leer at Big +Medicine; "wonder if 't wouldn't be kinder strengthnin' on me ef I'd +kinder sidle up towards the gal myself?" + +"I'll sidle up to you!" growled Big Medicine; and making two strides of +near ten feet each, he took the youth by his faded flaxen hair, and +holding him clear of the ground, administered a half dozen or so of +resounding kicks, then tossed him to one side, where he fell in a heap +on the ground. When he got on his feet again he began to bristle up and +show fight, but when Big Medicine reached for him he ambled off. + +In due time the goods were all placed on the shelves and Mr. Golding's +household furniture arranged in the upper rooms where he purposed +living, Carrie acting as housekeeper. + +On the first evening after all things had been put to rights, Mr. +Golding said to Big Medicine: + +"I suppose we ought to advertise." + +"Do how?" + +"Advertise." + +"Sartinly," said Big Medicine, having not the faintest idea of what his +partner meant. + +"Who can we get to paint our fence advertisements?" + +A gleam of intelligence shot from Big Medicine's eyes. He knew now what +was wanted. He remembered once, on a visit to Crawfordsville, seeing +these fence advertisements. He comprehended in a moment. + +"O, I know what ye mean, now," he said, with a grin, as if communing +with himself on some novel suggestion. "I guess I kin 'tend to that my +own self. The moon shines to-night, don't it?" + +"Yes; why?" + +"I'll do the paintin' to-night. A good ijee has jist struck me. You jist +leave it all to me." + +So the thing was settled, and Big Medicine was gone all night. + +The next day was a sluice of rain. It poured incessantly from daylight +till dark. Big Medicine sat on the counter in the corner brick and +chuckled. His thoughts were evidently very pleasant ones. Mr. Golding +was busy marking goods and Carrie was helping him. The great grey eyes +of Big Medicine followed the winsome girl all the time. When night came, +and she went up stairs, he said to Golding: + +"That gal o' your'n is a mighty smart little 'oman." + +"Yes, and she's all I have left," replied Mr. Golding in a sad tone. + +Big Medicine stroked his brown beard, whistled a few turns of a jig +tune, and, jumping down from the counter, went out into the drizzly +night. A few rods from the house he turned and looked up at the window. +A little form was just vanishing from it. + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," he murmured, then turned and went his +way, occupied with strange, sweet imaginings. As a matter of the merest +conjecture, it is interesting to dwell upon the probable turn taken by +his thoughts as he slowly stalked through the darkness and rain that +night; but I shall not trench on what, knowing all that I do, seems +sanctified and hallowed. It would be breaking a sacred confidence. Who +has stood and watched for a form at a window? Who has expressed, in +language more refined, to the inner fountain of human sympathy, the idea +conveyed in the rough fellow's remark? Who that has, let him recall the +time and the place holy in his memory. + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal," said the man, and went away to his +lonely bed to dream the old new dream. All night the rain fell, making +rich music on the roof and pouring through his healthy slumber a sound +like the flowing of strange rivers in a land of new delights--a land +into which he had strayed hand in hand with some one, the merest touch +of whose hand was rapture, the simplest utterance of whose voice was +charming beyond expression. The old new dream. The dream of flesh that +is divine--the vision of blood that is love's wine--the apocalypse that +bewildered the eyes of the old singer when from a flower of foam in the +sweet green sea rose the Cytherean Venus. We have all dreamed the dream +and found it sweet. + +It is quite probable that no fence advertisements ever paid as well, or +stirred up as big a "muss" as those painted by Big Medicine on the night +mentioned heretofore. As an artist our Hoosier was not a genius, but he +certainly understood how to manufacture a notoriety. If space permitted +I would copy all those rude notices for your inspection; but I must be +content with a few random specimens taken from memory, with an eye to +brevity. They are characteristic of the man and in somewhat an index of +the then state of society in and around Jimtown. On Deacon Jones's fence +was scrawled the following: "Dern yer ole sole, ef yer want good Koffy +go to Cook & Golding's nu stoar." + +John Butler, a nice old quaker, had the following daubed on his gate: +"Yu thievin' duk-legged ya and na ole cuss, ef the sperit muves ye, go +git a broad-brimmed straw hat at Cook & Golding's great stand at +Jimtown." The side of William Smith's pig pen bore this: "Bill, ye +ornery sucker, come traid with Cook & Golding at the ole corner brick in +Jimtown." Old Peter Gurley found writing to the following effect on his +new wagon bed: "Ef yoor dri or anything, you'll find a virtoous Kag of +ri licker at Cook & Golding's." On a large plank nailed to a tree at +Canaan's Cross Roads all passers by saw the following: "Git up an +brindle! Here's yer ole and faithful mewl! Come in gals and git yer +dofunny tricks and fixens, hats, caps, bonnets, parrysols, silk +petty-coat-sleeves and other injucements too noomerous too menshen! Rip +in--we're on it! Call at Cook & Golding's great corner brick!" + +These are fair specimens of what appeared everywhere. How one man could +have done so much in one night remains a mystery. Some people swore, +some threatened to prosecute, but finally everybody went to the corner +brick to trade. Jimtown became famous on account of Big Medicine and the +corner brick store. + +The sun rose through the morning gate beyond the quagmires east of +Jimtown and set through the evening gate past the ponds and maple swamps +to the west. The winds blew and there were days of calm. The weather ran +through its mutations of heat and cold. The herons flew over, the blue +birds twittered and went away and came again, and the peewees +disappeared and returned. A whole year had rolled round and it was June +again, with the air full of rumors about the building of a railroad +through Jimtown. + +During this flow of time Big Medicine had feasted his eyes on the bright +curls and brighter eyes of Carrie Golding, till his heart had become +tender and happy as a child's. They rarely conversed more than for him +to say, "Miss Carrie, look there," or for her to call out, "Please, Mr. +Cook, hand me down this bolt of muslin." But Big Medicine was content. + +It was June the 8th, about ten o'clock in the morning, and Big Medicine +was slowly making his way from his comfortable bachelor's cabin to the +corner brick. A peculiar smile was on his face, his heart was fluttering +strangely, and all on account of a little circumstance of the preceding +day, now fresh in his memory. Great boy that he was, he was poring ever +a single sweet smile Carrie Golding had given him! + +The mail hack stood at the post-office door, whence Mr. Golding was +coming with a letter in his hand. Big Medicine stopped and looked up at +the window. There stood Carrie. She was looking hopefully toward her +father. Big Medicine smiled and murmured: + +"Ther's wher I fust seed the gal--bless her sweet soul!" There was a +whole world of sincere happiness in the tones of his voice. + +Mr. Golding passed him hastily, his green spectacles on his nose, and a +great excitement flashing from his face. Big Medicine gazed wonderingly +after his partner till he saw him run up stairs to Carrie's room. Then +he thought he heard Carrie cry out joyfully, but it may have been the +wind. + +When an hour had passed Mr. Golding and Carrie came down dressed for +travelling. How strangely, wondrously beautiful the girl now looked! Mr. +Golding was as nervous as an old woman. He rubbed his thin white hands +together rapidly and said: + +"Mr. Cook, I have glorious news this morning!" + +"And what mought it be?" asked Big Medicine, as a damp chilliness crept +over him, and his face grew pinched and almost as white as his shirt +bosom. + +"Krofton & Kelly, the bankers, have resumed payment, and I'll get all my +money! It _is_ glorious news, is it not, my friend?" + +Big Medicine was silent. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and +powerless. A mist drifted across his eyes. He hardly realized where he +was or what was said, but he knew all. + +"I have concluded to give you this house and all my interest in this +store. You must not refuse. I haven't time to make the transfer now, but +I'll not neglect it. Carrie and I must hasten at once to Cincinnati. The +hack is waiting; so good bye, my dear friend, God bless you!" Mr. +Golding wrung his partner's cold, limp hand, without noticing how +fearfully haggard that Roman face had suddenly grown. + +"Good bye, Mr. Cook," said Carrie in her sweet, sincere way. "I'm real +sorry to leave you and the dear old house--but--but--good bye, Mr. Cook. +Come to see us in Cincinnati. Good bye." She gave him her hand also. + +He smiled a wan, flickering smile, like the last flare of a fire whose +fuel is exhausted. Carrie's woman's heart sank under that look, though +she knew not wherefore. + +The hack passed round the curve of the road. + +They were gone! + +Big Medicine stood alone in the door of the corner brick. He looked back +over his shoulders at the well filled shelves and muttered: + +"She ain't here, and what do I want of the derned old store?" + +The wind rustled the elm leaves and tossed the brown locks of the man +over his great forehead; the blue birds sang on the roof; the dust rose +in little columns along the street; and, high over head, in the yellow +mist of the fine June weather, sailed a great blue heron, going to the +lakes. Big Medicine felt like one deserted in the wilderness. He stood +there a while, then closed and locked the door and went into the woods. +A month passed before he returned. Jimtown wondered and wondered. But +when he did return his neighbors could not get a word out of him. He was +silent, moody, listless. Where had he been? Only hunting for Mr. Golding +and Carrie. He found them, after a long search, in a splendid residence +on the heights just out of Cincinnati. Mr. Golding greeted him +cordially, but somehow Big Medicine felt as though he were shaking hands +with some one over an insurmountable barrier. That was not the Mr. +Golding he had known. + +"Carrie is out in the garden. She will be glad to see you. Go along the +hall there. You will see the gate." + +Mr. Golding waved his hand after the manner of a very rich man, and a +patronizing tone would creep into his voice. Somehow Big Medicine looked +terribly uncouth. + +With a hesitating step and a heart full of unreal sensations, Big +Medicine opened the little gate and strode into the flower garden. +Suddenly a vision, such as his fancy had never pictured, burst on his +dazzled eyes. Flowers and vines and statues and fountains; on every hand +rich colors; perfumes so mixed and intensified that his senses almost +gave way; long winding walks; fairy-like bowers and music. He paused and +listened. A heavy voice, rich and manly, singing a ballad--some popular +love song--to the sweet accompaniment of a violin, and blended through +it all, like a silvery thread, the low sweet voice of Carrie Golding. +The poor fellow held his breath till the song was done. + +Two steps forward and Big Medicine towered above the lovers. + +Carrie sprang to her feet with a startled cry; then, recognizing the +intruder, she held out her little hand and welcomed him. Turning to her +lover she said: + +"Henry, this is Mr. Cook, lately papa's partner in Indiana." + +The lover was a true gentleman, so he took the big hard hand of the +visitor and said he was glad to see him. + +Big Medicine stood for a few moments holding a hand of each of the +lovers. Presently a tremor took possession of his burly frame. He did +not speak a word. His breast swelled and his face grew awfully white. +He put Carrie's hand in that of her lover and turned away. As he did so +a tear, a great bitter drop, rolled down his haggard cheek. A few long +strides and Big Medicine was gone. + +Shrilly piped the blue birds, plaintively sang the peewees, sweetly +through the elms and burr oaks by the corner brick blew the fresh summer +wind, as, just at sunset, Big Medicine once more stood in front of the +old building with his eyes fixed on the vacant, staring window. + +It was scarcely a minute that he stood there, but long enough for a +tender outline of the circumstances of the past year to rise in his +memory. + +A rustling at the broken lattice, a sudden thrill through the iron frame +of the watching man, a glimpse of a sweet face--no, it was only a fancy. +The house was still, and old and desolate. It stared at him like a +death's head. + +Big Medicine raised his eyes toward heaven, which was now golden and +flashing resplendently with sunset glories. High up, as if almost +touching the calm sky, a great blue heron was toiling heavily westward. +Taking the course chosen by the lone bird, Big Medicine went away, and +the places that knew him once know him no more forever. + + + + +THE VENUS OF BALHINCH. + + +When I returned from Europe with a finished education, I found that my +fortune also was finished in the most approved modern style, so I left +New York and drifted westward in search of employment. At length I came +to Indiana, and, having not even a cent left, and mustering but one +presentable suit of clothes, I looked about me in a hungry, half +desperate sort of way, till I pounced upon the school in Balhinch. Now +Balhinch is not a town, nor a cross-road place, nor a post-office--it is +simply a neighborhood in the southwestern corner of Union Township, +Montgomery County--a neighborhood _sui generis_, stowed away in the +breaks of Sugar Creek, containing as good, quiet, law-abiding folk as +can be found anywhere outside of Switzerland. My school was a small one +in numbers, but the pupils ranged from four to six feet three in +altitude, and well proportioned. The most advanced class had thumbed +along pretty well through the spelling book. I need not take up your +time with the school, however, for it has nothing at all to do with my +story, excepting merely to explain how I came to be in Balhinch, in the +State of Indiana. + +My first sight of Susie Adair was on Sunday at the Methodist prayer +meeting. I was sitting with my back to a window and facing the door of +the log meeting house when she entered. It was July--a hot glary day, +but a steady wind blew cool and sweet from the southwest, bringing in +all sorts of woodland odors. The grasshoppers were chirruping in the +little timothy field hard by, and over in a bit of woodland pasture a +swarm of blue jays were worrying a crow, keeping up an incessant +squeaking and chattering. The dumpy little class leader--the only little +man in Balhinch--had just begun to give out the hymn + + "Love is the sweetest bud that blows, + Its beauties never die, + On earth among the saints it grows + And ripens in the sky," &c., + +when Susie came in. Ben Crane was sitting by me. He nudged me with his +elbow and whispered: + +"How's that 'ere for poorty?" + +I made him no answer, but remained staring at the girl till long after +she had taken her seat. Nature plays strange tricks. Susie, the daughter +of farmer Adair, was as beautiful in the face as any angel could be, and +her form was as perfect as that of the Cnidian Venus. Her motion when +she walked was music, and as she sat in statuesque repose, the +undulations of her queenly form were those of perfect ease, grace and +strength. Her hands were small and taper, a little browned from +exposure, as was also her face. Her hair was the real classic gold, and +her grey eyes were riant with health and content. When her red lips +parted to sing, they discovered small even teeth, as white as ivory. I +can give you no idea of her. Physically she was perfection's self in the +mould of a Venus of the grandest type. Her head, too, was an +intellectual one (though feminine), in the best sense of the word. The +first thought that flashed across my mind was embodied in the words--_A +Venus_--and I still think of her as the best model I ever saw. + +"How's that for poorty?" repeated Crane. + +"Who is she!" I replied interrogatively. + +"She's my jewlarker," said he. + +"Your what?" + +"My sweetheart." + +"What is her name?" + +"Susie Adair." + +So I came to know her and admire her, and even before that little prayer +meeting was over I loved her. Introductions were an unknown institution +in Balhinch, but I was not long in finding a way to the personal +acquaintance of Susie. I found her remarkably intelligent for one of her +limited opportunities, very fond of reading, sprightly in conversation, +womanly, modest, sweet tempered, and, indeed, altogether charming as +well as superbly beautiful. + +As for me, I am an insignificant looking man, and then I was even more +so than now. My hair is terribly stiff and red, you know, and my eyes +are very pale blue, nearly white. My neck is very long and has a large +Adam's apple. I am small and narrow chested, and have slender bow legs. +My teeth are uneven and my nose is pug. I have a very fine thin voice, +decidedly nasal, as you perceive. One thing, however, I am well +educated, polite, and not a bad conversationalist. + +Susie was a most entertaining and perplexing study for me from the +start. She treated me with decided consideration and kindness, seemed +deeply interested in my accounts of my travels, asked me many questions +about the old world and good society, sat for hours at a time listening +to me as I read aloud. In fact I felt that I was impressing her deeply, +but she would go with Ben Crane, that long, awkward, ignorant gawk. How +could a young woman of such fine magnetic presence, and endowed with +such genuine, instinctive purity of taste in everything else, bear the +presence of a rough greenhorn like that? Finally I said to myself: she +is kind and good; she cannot bear to slight Ben, though she cares +nothing for him. + +What a strange state being in love is! It is like dreaming in the grass. +One hears the flow of the wind--it is the breath of love--one smells the +flowers, and it is the perfume of a young cheek, the sharp fragrance of +blonde curls. What dreams I had in those days! I could scarcely endure +my school to the end of the first three months. Then I gave it up, and +collecting my wages purchased me some fine clothes--that is, fine for +the time and the place. I recollect that suit now, and wonder how a man +of my taste could have borne to wear it. A black coat, a scarlet vest +and white pants, ending with calf boots and a very tall silk hat! If you +should see me dressed that way now you would laugh till your ribs would +hurt. I do not know how true it is, but, from a pretty good source, I +heard that Ben Crane said I looked like a red-headed woodpecker. One +thing I do know, I never saw a woodpecker with a freckled face. I have a +freckled face. + +Ben soon recognized me as his rival and treated me with supreme +impertinence, even going so far as to rub his fist under my nose and +swear at me--a thing at which I felt profoundly indignant, and +considering which I was surely justified in sticking a lucifer match +into Ben's six valuable hay stacks one night thereafter. It was a great +fire, and two hundred dollars loss to Ben. Let him keep his fist out +from under my nose. + +But I must come to my story, cutting short these preliminaries. It is a +story I never tire of telling, and a story which has elicited +ejaculations from many. + +It was a ripe sweet day in the latter part of September--clear, but hazy +and dreamful--a prelude to the Indian summer. I stood before the glass +in my room at 'Squire Jones's, where I boarded, and very carefully +arranged my bright blue neck-tie. Then I combed my hair. I never have +got thoroughly familiar with my hair. I cannot, even now, comb it, while +looking in a glass, without cringing for fear of burning my fingers. The +long, wavy red locks flow through the comb like flames, and underneath +is a gleam of live coals and red hot ashes. Ben Crane said he believed +my head had set his hay stacks a-fire. Maybe it did. I wished that a +stray flash from the same source would kindle the heart of Susie Adair +and heat it until it lay under her Cytherean breasts a puddle of molten +love. I put my silk hat carefully upon my head and wriggled my hands +into a pair of kid gloves; then, walking-stick in hand, I set out to +know my fate at the hands of Susie. My way was across a stubble field in +which the young clover, sown in the spring, displayed itself in a +variety of fantastic modes. Have you ever noticed how much grass is like +water? Some one, Hawthorne, perhaps, has spoken of "a gush of violets," +and Swinburne, going into one of his musical frenzies, cries: + + "Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers." + +I have seen pools of clover and streams of timothy; I have stood ankle +deep in shoal blue grass and have watched for hours the liquid ripples +of the red top. I have seen the field sparrows dive into the green waves +of young wheat, and the black starlings wade about in the sink-foil of +southern countries. Grass is a liquid that washes earth's face till it +shines like that of a clean, healthy child. But clover prefers to stand +in pools and eddies, in which oft and oft I have seen the breasts of +meadow larks shine like gold, the while a few sweet notes, like rung +silver, rose and trembled above the trefoil, all woven, in and out, +through the swash of the wind's palpitant currents--a music of +unspeakable influence. Swallows skim the surface of grass just as they +do that of water. When the summer air agitates the smooth bosom of a +broad green meadow field, you will see these little random arrows +glancing along the emerald surface, cutting with barbed wings through +the tossing, bloom-capped waves, thence ricochetting high into the +bright air to whirl and fall again as swiftly as before. Many a time I +have traced streams of grass to their fresh fountains, where jets of +tender foliage and bubbles of tinted flowers welled up from dark, rich +earth, and flowed away, with a velvet rustle and a ripple like blown +floss, to break and recoil and eddy against the dark shadows of a +distant grove. Such a fountain is a place of fragrance and joy. The bees +go thither to get the sweetest honey, and find it a very Hybla. The +butterflies float about it in a dreamful trance, while in the cool, +damp shade of a dock leaf squats a great toad, like a slimy dragon +guarding the gate of a paradise. + +As I slowly walked across that stubble field, now and then stepping into +a tuft of clover, out from which a quail would start, whirling away in a +convulsion of flight, I allowed dreams of bliss to steal rosily across +my brain. I scarcely saw the great gold-sharded beetles that hummed and +glanced in the mellow sun-light. I heard like one half asleep, as if far +away, the sharp twitter of the blue bird and the tender piping of the +meadow lark. Susie Adair was all my thought. I recollect that, just as I +climbed the fence at the farther side of the clover field, I saw a white +winged, red headed woodpecker pounce upon and carry off a starry +opal-tinted butterfly, and I thought how sweet it would be if I could +thus steal away into the free regions of space the object of my gentler +passion. But then what wonderful big wings I should have needed, for my +Venus of the hollow of the hill of Balhinch was no airy thing. Her tall, +strong body and magnificent limbs equalled one hundred and forty pounds +avoirdupois! My own weight was about one hundred and twenty. + +As I neared Susie's home I began, for the first time in my life, to +suffer from palpitation. The shadow of a doubt floated in the autumn +sun-light. I set my teeth together and resolved not to be faint hearted. +I must go in boldly and plead my cause and win. + +When I reached the gate of the Adair farmhouse I had to look straight +over the head of a very large, sanctimonious-faced bull-dog to get a +view of the vine covered porch. This dog looked up at me and smiled +ineffably; then he came to the gate and stood over against me, peeping +between the slats. I hesitated. About this time Ben Crane came out of +the house with a banjo in his hand. He had been playing for Susie. He +was a natural musician. + +"'Feared o' the dog, Mr. Woodpecker?" said he. "Begone, Bull!" and he +kicked the big-headed canine aside so that I could go in. + +I heard him thrumming on his banjo far down the road as Susie met me at +the door. How wondrously beautiful she was! + +"Sit down Mr. ----, and, if you do not care, I'll bring the churn in and +finish getting the butter while we talk." + +I was delighted--I was charmed--fascinated. Susie's father had gone to a +distant village, and her mother, a gentle work-worn matron, was in the +other room spinning flax, humming, meantime, snatches of camp meeting +hymns. The sound of that spinning-wheel seemed to me strangely mournful +and sad, but Susie's deep, clear gray eyes and cheerful voice were the +very soul of joyousness, health and youth. She brought in a great +fragrant cedar churn, made to hold six or eight gallons of cream, and +forthwith began her labor. She stood as she worked, and the exercise +throwing her entire body into gentle but well-defined motion, displayed +all the riches of her contour. The sleeves of her calico gown were +rolled up above the elbows, leaving her plump, muscular arms bare, and +her skirt was pinned away from her really small feet and shapely ankles +in such a way as to give one an idea, a suggestion, of supreme innocence +and grace. Her long, crinkled gold hair was unbound, hanging far below +her waist, and shining like silk. Her lips, carmine red, seemed to +overflow with tender utterances. + +Ever since that day I have thought churning a kind of sacred, charmingly +blessed work, which ought to be, if really it is not, the pastime of +those delightful beings the ancients called deities. Cream is more +fragrant, more delicious, more potent than nectar or ambrosia. A cedar +churn is more delicately perfumed than any patera of the gods. And, I +say it with reverence, I have seen, swaying lily-like above the churn, a +beauty more perfect than that which bloomed full grown from the bright +focus of the sea's ecstatic travail. + +What a talk Susie and I had that day! Slowly, stealthily I crept nearer +and nearer to the subject burning in my heart. I watched Susie closely, +for her face was an enigma to me. I never think of her and of that day +without recalling Baudelaire's dream of a giantess. More happy than the +poet, I really saw my colossal beauty stand full grown before me, but, +like him, I wondered-- + + * * * "Si son coeur couve une sombre flamme + Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux." + +I could not tell, from any outward sign, what was going on in her heart. +No sphinx could have been more utterly calm and mysterious. She had a +most baffling way about her, too. When at last I had reached the point +of a confession of my maddening love, she broke into one of my +charmingest sentences to say-- + +"Mr. ----, you'd better move farther away from the churn or I might +spatter your clothes." + +This, somehow, disconcerted and bothered me. But Susie was so calm and +sweet about it, her gray eyes beamed so mysteriously innocent of any +impropriety, that I soon regained my lost eloquence. + +How sharply and indelibly cut in my memory, like intaglios in ivory, the +surroundings of that scene, even to the minutest detail! For instance, I +can see as plainly as then my new silk hat on the floor between my +knees, containing a red handkerchief and a paper of chewing tobacco. I +recall, also, that a slip-trod shoe lay careened to one side near the +centre of the room. The bull-dog came to the door and peeped solemnly in +a time or two. A string of dried pumpkin cuts hung by the fireplace, and +under a small wooden table in one corner were piled a few balls of +"carpet rags." I sat in a very low chair. A picture of George Washington +hung above a small square window. The floor was ash boards uncarpeted. I +heard some chickens clucking and cackling under the house. + +Finally, I recollect it as if it were but yesterday, I said: + +"I love you, Susie--I love you, and I have loved you ever since I first +saw you!" + +How tame the words sound now! but then they came forth in a tremulous +murmur that gave them character and power. Susie looked straight at me +a moment, and I thought I saw a softer light gather in her eyes. Then +she took away the churn dasher and lid and fetched a large bowl from a +cupboard. What a fine golden pile of butter she fished up into the bowl! + +I drew my chair somewhat nearer, and watched her pat and roll and +squeeze the plastic mass with the cherry ladle. A little gray kitten +came and rubbed and purred round her. Again the bull-dog peeped in. A +breeze gathered some force and began to ripple pleasantly through the +room. Far away in the fields I heard the quails whistling to each other. +An old cow strolled up the lane by the house and round the corner of the +orchard, plaintively tinkling her bell. Steadily hummed Mrs. Adair's +spinning wheel. I slipped my hat and my chair a little closer to Susie, +and by a mighty effort directed my burning words straight to the point. +I cannot repeat all I said. I would not if I could. Such things are +sacred. + +"Susie, I love you, madly, blindly, dearly, truly! O, Susie! will you +love me--will you be my wife?" + +Again she turned on me that strange, sweet, half smiling look. Her lips +quivered. The flush on her cheeks almost died out. + +"Answer me, Susie, and say you will make me happy." + +She walked to the cupboard, put away the bowl of butter and the ladle, +then came back and stood by the churn and me. How indescribably charming +she looked! She smiled strangely and made a motion with her round strong +arms. I answered the movement. I spread wide my arms and half rose to +clasp her to my bosom. A whole life was centred in the emotion of that +moment. Susie's arms missed me and lifted the churn. I sank back into my +chair. How gracefully Susie swayed herself to her immense height, toying +with the ponderous churn held far above her head. I saw a kitten fairly +fly out of the room, its tail as level as a gun barrel; I saw the +bull-dog's face hastily withdraw from the door; I saw the carpet balls, +the pumpkin cuts and the print of Washington all through a perpendicular +cataract of deliciously fragrant buttermilk! I saw my hat fill up to the +brim, with my handkerchief afloat. I heaved an awful sigh and leaped to +my feet. I saw old Mrs. Adair standing in the partition door, with her +arms akimbo, and heard her say-- + +"W'y, Susan Jane Samantha Ann! What 'pon airth hev ye done?" + +And the Venus replied: + +"I've been givin' this 'ere little woodpecker a good dose of +buttermilk!" + +I seized my hat and shuffled out of the door, feeling the milk gush from +the tops of my boots at each hasty step I made. I ran to the gate, went +through and slammed it after me. As I did so I heard a report like the +closing of a strong steel trap. It was the bull-dog's teeth shutting on +a slat of the gate as he made a dive at me from behind. I smiled grimly, +thinking how I'd taste served in buttermilk. + +On my way home I passed Ben Crane's house. He was sitting at a window +playing his banjo, and singing in a stentorian voice: + + "O! Woodpecker Jim, + Yer chance is mighty slim! + Jest draw yer red head into yer hole + And there die easy, dern your soul, + O! slim Woodpecker Jim!" + +I was so mad that I sweat great drops of pure buttermilk, but over in +the fields the quails whistled just as clear and sweet as ever, and I +heard the wind pouring through the stubble as it always does in autumn! + + + + +THE LEGEND OF POTATO CREEK. + + +Big yellow butterflies were wheeling about in the drowsy summer air, and +hovering above the moist little sand bars of Potato Creek. A shady dell, +wrapped in the hot lull of August, sent up the spires and domes of its +walnut and poplar trees, clearly defined, and sheeny, while underneath +the forest roof the hazel and wild rose bushes had wrung themselves into +dusky mats. The late violets bloomed here and there, side by side with +those waxlike yellow blossoms, called by the country folk "butter and +eggs." Through this dell Potato Creek meandered fantastically, washing +bare the roots of a few gnarled sycamores, and murmuring among the small +bowlders that almost covered its bed. It was not a strikingly romantic +or picturesque place--rather the contrary--much after the usual type of +ragged little dells. "A scrubby little holler" the neighborhood folk +called it. + +Perched on the topmost tangle of the dry, tough roots of an old upturned +tree, sat little Rose Turpin, sixteen that very August day; pretty, nay +beautiful, her school life just ended, her womanhood just beginning to +clothe her face and form in that mysterious mantle of tenderness--the +blossom, the flower that brings the rich sweet fruit of love. From her +high perch she leaned over and gazed down into the clear water of the +creek and smiled at the gambols of the minnows that glanced here and +there, now in shadowy swarms and anon glancing singly, like sparks of +dull fire, in the limpid current. Some small cray-fishes, too, delighted +her with their retrograde and side-wise movements among the variegated +pebbles at the bottom of the water. A small sketch book and a case of +pencils lay beside her. So busy was she with her observations, that a +fretful, peevish, but decidedly masculine voice near by startled her as +if from a doze. She had imagined herself so utterly alone. + +"Wo-erp 'ere, now can't ye! Wo, I say! Turn yer ole head roun' this way +now, blast yer ole picter! No foolin', now; wo-erp, I tell ye!" + +Rose was so frightened at first that she seemed about to rise in the air +and fly away; but her quick glance in the direction of the sound +discovered the speaker, who, a few rods further down the creek, stood +holding the halter rein of a forlorn looking horse in one hand, and in +the other a heavy woodman's axe. + +"Wo-erp, now! I hate like the nation to slatherate ye; but I said I'd do +it if ye didn't get well by this August the fifteenth; an' shore 'nuff, +here ye are with the fistleo gittin' wus and wus every day o' yer life. +So now ye may expect ter git what I tole ye! Stan' still now, will ye, +till I knock the life out'n ye!" + +By this time Rose had come to understand the features of the situation. +The horse was sadly diseased with that scourge of the equine race, +scrofulous shoulder or fistula, commonly called, among the country folk, +fistleo, and because the animal could not get well the man was on the +point of killing it by knocking it on the head with the axe. + +Of all dumb things a horse was Rose's favorite. She had always, since +her very babyhood, loved horses. + +"Wo-wo-wo-erp, here! Ha'n't ye got no sense at all? Ding it, how d'ye +'spect me to hit yer blamed ole head when ye keep it a waggin' 'round in +that sort o' style? Wo-erp!" + +The fellow had tied the halter rein around a sapling about two feet from +the ground, and was now preparing to deal the horse a blow with the axe +between its eyes. The animal seemed unaware of any danger, but kept its +head going from side to side, trying to fight certain bothersome +gad-flies. + +"O, sir, stop; don't, don't; please, sir, don't!" cried the girl, her +sweet voice breaking into silvery echo fragments in every nook of the +little hollow. + +The man gazed all around, and, seeing no one, let fall the axe by his +side. The birds, taking advantage of the silence, lifted a twittering +chorus through the dense dark tops of the trees. The slimmest breath of +air languidly caressed the leaves of the rose vines. The bubbling of the +brook seemed to touch a mellower key, and the yellow butterflies settled +all together on a little sand bar, their bright wings shut straight and +sharp above their bodies. The man seemed intently listening. "Tw'an't +mammy's voice, nohow," he muttered; "but I'd like to know who 'twas, +though." + +He stood a moment longer, as if in doubt, then again raising his axe he +continued: + +"Must 'a' been a jay bird squeaked. Wo-erp 'ere now! I'm not goin' to +fool wi' ye all day, so hold yer head still!" + +That was a critical moment for the lean, miserable horse. It lowered its +head and held it quite still. The axe was steadily poised in the air. +The man's face wore a look of determination--grim, stone-like. He was, +perhaps, twenty-five, tall and bony, with a countenance sallow almost to +greenness, sunken pale blue eyes, sun burnt hair, thin flaxy beard, and +irregular, half decayed teeth. Although his body and limbs were shrunken +to the last degree of attenuation, still the big cords of his neck and +wrists stood out taut, suggesting great strength. The blow would be a +terrible one. The horse would die almost without a struggle. + +"O, O, O! Indeed, sir, you must not! Stop that, sir, instantly! You +shall not do it, sir! O, sir!" + +And fluttering down from her perch, Rose flew to the spot where the +tragedy was pending, and cast herself pale and trembling between the +horse and its would-be executioner. + +The axe fell from the man's hands. + +His eyes became exactly circular. + +His under jaw dropped so that his mouth was open to its fullest gaping +capacity. His shoulders fell till their points almost met in front of +his sunken chest. He was a picture of overwhelming surprise. + +"An' what in thunder do you want of him? What good's he goin' to do you? +'Cause, you see, he can't work nor be rid on nor nothin'." + +"O never mind, sir, just please give him to me and I'll take him and +care for him. Poor horsey! Poor horsey! See, he loves me already!" + +The beast had thrust its nose against the maiden's hand. + +"Well, I don't know 'bout this. I'd as soon 'at you have 'im as not if I +hadn't swore to kill 'im, an' I musn't lie to 'im. An' besides, I've had +sich a pesky derned time wi' 'im 'at it looks kinder mean 'at I +shouldn't have the satisfaction of bustin' his head for it. I'm goin' to +knock 'im, an' ye jist mought as well stan' aside!" + +Just then the peculiarities of the man's character were written on his +face. His nose denoted pugnacity, his lips sensuality, but not of a base +sort, his eyes ignorance and rough kindness, his chin firmness, his jaw +tenacity of purpose, and his complexion the ague. He had sworn to kill +the horse, and kill him he would. You could see that in the very +wrinkles of his neck. He evidently felt that it was a duty he owed to +his conscience--a duty made doubly imperative by the horse's refusal to +get well by the exact time prescribed. + +High up on the dead spire of a walnut tree a woodpecker began to beat a +long, rattling tattoo. The horse very lazily and innocently winked his +brown eyes, and putting forth his nose sniffed at the skirt of the +girl's dress. + +"I'm glad--O I'm ever so glad you'll not kill him!" murmured the little +lady when she saw the axe fall to the ground. + +The man stood a long moment, as if petrified or frozen into position, +then somewhat recovering, he re-seized the axe, and flourishing it high +in the air, cried in a voice that, cracked and shrill, rang petulantly +through the woods: + +"I said I'd kill 'im if that garglin' oil didn't cure 'im, 'an I'm +derned ef I don't, too!" + +"O, sir, if you please! The poor horse is not to blame!" exclaimed the +excited girl. + +"'Taint no use o' beggin'; he's no 'count but to jist eat up corn, an' +hay, an' paster an' the likes; and his blasted fistleo gits wus an' wus +all the time. An't I spent more'n he's wo'th a tryin' to cure 'm, an' +don't everybody laugh at me 'cause I've got sich a derned ole slummux of +a hoss? Jist blame my picter if I'll stand it! So now you've hearn me +toot my tin horn, an' ye may as well stan' out'n the way!" + +"But, sir, I'll take him off your hands, may I? Say, sir? O please let +me take him!" + +While he stood with his axe raised, Rose was very diligently and +nervously tugging at the knot that fastened the halter rein to the tree, +and ere he was aware of her intent, she had untied it and was resolutely +leading the poor old animal away. + +The man's eyes got longest the short way as he gazed at the retreating +figure. + +"Well now, that's as cool as a cowcumber and twicet as juicy! Gal, ye'r' +a brick! ye'r' a knot! Ye'r' a born pacer! Take 'im 'long for all I +keer! Take 'im 'long!" + +He put down his axe, placed his hands against his sides and smiled, as +he spoke, a big wrinkling smile that covered the whole of his sallow, +skinny face and ran clear down to the neck band of his homespun shirt. + +"Pluck, no eend to it!" he muttered; "wonder who she is? +Poorty--geeroody!" + +The wild birds sang a triumphant hymn, the breeze freshened till the +whole woods rustled, and louder still rose the bubbling of the stream +among its bowlders. + +"Well, I'll jist be dorged! The poortiest gal in all Injianny! An' she's +tuck my ole hoss whether or no! She's a knot! Sort o' a cool proceedin', +it 'pears to me, but she's orful welcome to the hoss! Howdsomever it's +mighty much of a joke on me, 'r my name's not Zach Jones!" + +He laughed long and loud. The birds laughed, too, and still the wind +freshened. + +The girl and the horse had quickly disappeared behind the hazel and +papaw bushes. Zach Jones was alone with his axe and his reflections. + +"Yender's where she sot--right up yender on that ole clay root. She must +'a' been a fishin', I reckon." + +Another admiring chuckle. + +He went to the spot and clambered up among the roots. There lay Rose's +sketch book and pencil case. He took up the book and curiously turned +the leaves, his eyes running with something like childish delight over +the flowers and bits of landscape. He had never before seen a drawing. + +"Poorty as the gal 'erself, 'most," he said, "an' seein' 'at she's tuck +my ole hoss, I spose I'll have to take these 'ere jimcracks o' her'n. +I'll take 'em 'long anyhow, jist to 'member her by!" + +This argument seemed logical and conclusive, and with a quick glance +over his shoulder he crammed book and pencil case into the capacious +depths of the side pocket of his pants. + +"Now then it's about time for my chill, an' I'd better go home. Hang the +luck; s'pose I'll allus have the ager!" This last sentence was uttered +in a tone of comical half despair, and accompanied by a facial +contortion possible to no one but a person thoroughly saturated with +ague in its chronic form. + +After he left the dell, Zach had a hot walk across a clover field before +he reached the dilapidated log house where he lived with his widowed +mother. In a short time his chill set in, and it was a fearful one. His +teeth chattered and his bony frame rattled like a bundle of dry sticks +in a strong wind. After it had shaken him thus for about an hour, his +brother Sammy, a lad of ten years, came in with a jug of buttermilk +brought from a neighbor's. + +"Mammy, 'ere's yer buttermilk," said he, setting the jug on the floor. +"Shakin' like forty--a'n't ye, Zach? he added, glancing with a sad, +lugubrious smile at his brother; then, changing his tone and also his +countenance, he continued, with a broader grin: "Bet ye a dollar ye +can't guess what I seed over to 'Squire Martin's!" + +"No, nor I don't care a cuss; so put off an' don't come yawpin' round +me!" replied Zach. + +"Yes ye do, too; an' I know ye do, for 'twas yer ole fistleo hoss. That +'ere fine gal 'at stays over there is havin' a man wash 'im an' doctor +'im." Sammy winked and hitched up his pants as he spoke. + +"Do say, Sammy, is that so, now?" cried the widow, holding up her hands. +"How on 'arth come she by the hoss? Zach, I thought you'd killed that +creater'!" + +"Mammy, ef you an' Sammy'll jist let me 'joy this 'ere ager in peace +I'll be orful 'bleeged to ye," said Zach, making his chair creak and +quiver with the ecstasy of his convulsion. + +But Sammy's tongue would go. He thought he had a "good 'un" on Zach, and +nothing short of lightning could have killed him quick enough to prevent +his telling it. + +"The gal says as how Zach gin 'er the ole hoss for to 'member 'im by!" +he blurted out, shying briskly from Zach's foot, which otherwise would +have landed him in the door yard. + +"Lookee here now, Zach, you jist try the likes o' that ag'in an' I'll +give ye sich a broom-stickin' as ye a'n't had lately. Ye mought 'a' +injured the child's insides!" and as she spoke the widow flourished the +broom. + +So Zach dropped his head upon his chest and employed himself exclusively +with his chill. When his mother was not looking at him, however, he +would occasionally slip the sketch book partly out of his pocket and +peep between its leaves. When his fever came on he got "flighty" and +horrified the widow with talk about an angel on a clay root and a sweet +little "hoss thief" from whom he had stolen the "picters!" + +I cannot exactly say how Zach got to going over to 'Squire Martin's so +often after this. But his first visit was a compulsory one. His mother +happening to discover his possession of the sketch book and pencil case, +made him return them with his own hand to Rose. He at once became deeply +interested in the progress of his former patient's convalescence; for, +strange to say, the poor horse began almost immediately to get well, and +in two months was sound, glossy and fat. Nor was he an ill-looking +animal. On the contrary, when Rose sat on his back and stroked his mane, +he arched his neck and pawed the ground like a thoroughbred. + +'Squire Martin was a good man, and seeing how Zach seemed to enjoy +Rose's company, he one day took the girl aside and said to her: + +"You must be somewhat of a doctor, my dear, seeing how you've touched up +the old hoss, and I propose for you to try your hand on another +subject. There's poor Zach Jones, who's had the chills for six or eight +years as constant as sunrise and sunset, and no medicine can't do him +any good. Now I'll be bound if you'll try you can cure him sound and +well. All you need to do in the world is to pet him up some'at as you +have the ole hoss. Jist take a little interest in the feller an' he'll +come out all right. All he wants is to forget he ever had the ager and +take some light exercise and have some fun. Fun is the only medicine to +cure the chills with. Quinine is no 'count but to make a racket in a +feller's head, and calomel'll kill 'im, sure. Now I propose to let Zach +have a hoss and saddle and you must go out a riding with 'im and try to +divert his mind from his sorrows and aches and pains--now that's a good +girl, Rosie." + +Rose, whose healthful, impulsive, generous nature would not allow her to +refuse so well intended and withal so small a request, readily agreed to +do all she could in the matter, and very soon thereafter she and Zach +were the very best of friends, taking long rides together through +woodlands and up and down the pleasant lanes of 'Squire Martin's broad +estates. The young girl soon found the companionship of Zach, novel and +most awkward as it was at first, agreeable and almost charming in its +freshness and sincerity. As for Zach himself, he was the girl's slave +from the start. He could not do too much for her in his earnest, +respectful way. Women are always tyrants, and their tyranny seems to be +inversely as their size and directly as the size of the man upon whom it +is exerted. Rose was a very little chit of a maiden, and Zach was a +great big bony frame of a fellow. The result, of course, was despotism. +But, although Zach was a democrat, he seemed to like the oppression, and +ran after big-winged butterflies, opened gates, pulled down and put up +innumerable fences, climbed trees after empty bird nests, gathered +flowers and ferns--did everything, in fact, required of him by his +little queen. He became a daily visitor at the 'Squire's, and seemed to +have entirely forgotten everything else or utterly submerged it in his +unselfish devotion to the girl. The good 'Squire saw this with unbounded +delight. + +So August quietly drifted by, and September hung its yellow banner on +the corn and said farewell with a sigh that had in it a smack of winter. + +Rose's parents were wealthy and lived in Indianapolis, and now came the +time for the girl's return to her city home. Meanwhile a remarkable +change had taken place in the health and spirits of Zach Jones. The ague +had departed, the sallowness was gone from his skin, somewhat of flesh +had gathered on his cheeks, and in his eyes shone a cheerful light. He +was straight and almost plump, and his hair and beard had assumed a +gloss and liveliness they had never before known. He had thrown away +quinine and calomel, and his sleep at night was soft and sweet, broken +only by fair, happy dreams, that lingered long after he was awake. At +home his mother had far less trouble with him, and Sammy never got a +kick even if he did occasionally mention old fistleo in an equivocal +way. The amount of provender it required to satisfy Zach's appetite now +was a constant source of amazement to the widow. + +The evening preceding Rose's departure was a fine one. The woods were +gold, the sky was turquoise. Instead of riding, as usual, the young +people took a stroll in the 'Squire's immense orchard. The apples were +ripe and ready to be gathered into the cellars; their mellow fragrance +flavored the autumn air so delicately that Zach said it smelt sweeter +than an oven full of sugar cakes. + +When the young folk returned from their walk the 'Squire was standing on +the door step of his house. His quick eyes caught a glimpse of something +unsatisfactory in the faces of the approaching couple--Zach, +particularly, despite his evident effort to choke down something, +discovered unmistakable signs of suffering. Rose was simply sober and +thoughtful. + +"What now, Zach?" asked the 'Squire, "sick, eh?" "D'know; guess I'm in +for a shake; wish to the Lord it'd shake my back bone clean out'n me!" +was the reply, in a queer gurgling voice. A bunch of fall roses fell +from his vest button-hole, but he did not pick it up. A hot flush, in +the midst of a ghastly pallor, burned on the cheeks of the speaker. Rose +tapped the ground with the toe of her kid boot, but did not speak. + +The man and the girl stood there close together awhile, and the 'Squire +did not catch what they said as they shook hands and parted. When Zach +had gone home the 'Squire told Rose that he wished she would stay a +little longer, till the ague season was over, just on Zach's account. +Rose quietly replied, "I have already stayed too long;" but her voice +had an infinity of pity and sorrow in it that the 'Squire did not +detect. + +Next morning Rose went home to the city and soon after made a brilliant +_debut_ in society, for she was really a charming little thing. That +winter was a festive one--a season of great social activity--and some of +its most direct and prominent results were a few notable marriages in +the spring, among which was that of Rose to a banker of P----, Kentucky, +the happy union being consummated in May. + +On the very day of her wedding Rose received from her uncle the +following note: + + "DEAR NIECE: + + "Come to see us, even if you won't stay but one day. Come right + off, if you're a Christian girl. Zach Jones is dying of + consumption and is begging to see you night and day. He says + he's got something on his mind he wants to say to you, and when + he says it he can die happy. The poor fellow is monstrous bad + off, and I think you ought to be sure and come. We're all well. + Your loving uncle, + + "JARED MARTIN." + +Something in this homely letter so deeply affected Rose that she +prevailed on her husband, a few days after their marriage, to take her +to 'Squire Martin's. + +It was nearly sundown when the young wife, accompanied by the 'Squire, +entered the room of the dying man. He lay on a low bed by an open +window, through which, with hollow hungry eyes, he was gazing into the +blue distance that is called the sky of May. Birds were singing in the +trees all around the house, and a cool breath of violet-scented air +rippled through the window. The widow Jones, worn out with watching by +the sick bed, sat sleeping in her rude arm-chair; Sammy had gone after +the cow--a gift from the 'Squire. + +The visitors entered softly, but Zach heard them and feebly turned his +head. He put out a bloodless hand and clasped the warm fingers of Rose, +pulling her into a seat by his couch. A wan smile flitted across his +face as he fixed his eyes, burning like sparks in the gray ash of a +spent fire, on hers, dewy with rising tears. + +"The same little Rose you use to wus," he said, in a low faltering +voice, that had in it an unconquerable allegiance to the one dream of +his manhood. His unnaturally bright eyes ran swiftly over her face and +form, then closed, as if to fasten the vision within, that it might +follow him to eternity. + +"The same little Rose you use to wus," he repeated, "only now you're +picked off the vine an' nobody can't touch ye but the owner. I'm a +poor, no 'count dyin' man, Rose, but you'll never----." His voice choked +a little and he did not finish the sentence. Perhaps he thought it were +better not finished. + +A few moments of utter silence followed, during which, faintly, far out +in the field behind the house, was heard the childish voice of Sammy, +singing an old hymn, two lines of which were most distinctly heard by +those in the house. + +"Ah, yes-- + + "This world's a wilderness of woe, + This world it ain't my home," + +chimed in the trembling voice of the sick man. Then, by an effort that +evidently taxed his fading powers to the last degree, he fixed his eyes +firmly on those of the young woman. Here was a martyr of the divine +sort, true and unchangeable in the flame of the torture. + +"Rose, little Rose," he said, glancing uneasily at the 'Squire, "I've +got something private like to say to you." + +The young woman trembled. Memory was at work. + +"'Squire, go out a minute, will ye?" continued Zach. + +The sick man's request was promptly obeyed, and Rose sat, drooping, +alone beside the bed, while the widow snored away. + +Zach now more nervously clasped the hand of the young woman. A spot of +faint sunshine glimmered on the pillow close by the man's head. The +out-door sounds of the wind in the young grass, and the rustle of the +new soft leaves of the trees, crept into the room gently, as if not to +drown the low voice of the dying man. + +"It's been on my mind ever since we parted, Rose, and I ort 'a' said it +then, but I choked an' couldn't; but I kin say it now and I will." He +paused a moment and Rose looked pitifully at him. His chin was thrust +out firmly and his lips had a determined set. He looked just as he did +when about to knock the poor old horse on the head over in the dell that +day. How vividly the tragic situation was recalled in Rose's mind! + +"Yes, I will say it now, so I will," he resumed. "Since things turned +out jist as they have, Rose, I do wish I'd 'a' paid no 'tention to ye +an' jist gone on and knocked that derned ole fistleoed hoss so dead 'at +he'd 'a' never kicked--I do--I do, 'i hokey! I don't want to make ye +feel bad, but I'm goin' away now, an' it 'pears to me like as if I'd go +easy if I know'd you'd----." He turned away his face and drew just one +little fluttering breath. When, after only a few minutes' absence, the +'Squire came in, the widow still slept, the sweet air still rippled +through the room, but Rose held a dead hand; Zach was at rest! The +'Squire placed his hand on the bright hair of Rose and gazed mournfully +down into the pinched, pallid face of the dead. How awfully calm a dead +face is! + +The widow stirred in her chair, groaned, and awoke. For a moment she +bent her eyes wonderingly, inquiringly on the young woman; then, rising, +she clasped her in her great bony arms. + +"You are the Rose, the little Rose he's been goin' on so about. O, +honey, I'm orful glad you've come. You ort jist to 'a' heerd him talk +about ye when he got flighty like----but O--O--my! O Lor'! Zach--Zachy, +dear! O, Miss, O, he's dead--he's dead!" + +"Dead, yes, dead!" echoed the 'Squire, his words dropping with the +weight of lead. + +Across the fields of young green wheat ran waves of the spring wind, +murmuring and sighing, while the dust of blossoms wheeled, and rose and +fell in the last soft rays of the going sun. A big yellow butterfly +flitted through the room. + +Presently Sammy entered. He came in like a gust of wind, making things +rattle with his impetuous motion. + +"O, mammy! O, Zach! I's got s'thin' to tell ye, an' I'll bet a biscuit +you can't guess what 't is!" he cried breathlessly. + +"O, Sammy, honey, O, dear!" groaned the widow. + +"S-s-h!" said the 'Squire solemnly. + +"Well, I jist wanted 'm to guess," replied Sammy, "for it's awful +doggone cur'u's 'at----" + +"S-s-h!" + +"The fistleo is broke out on Zach's ole hoss ten times as wuss as ever!" + +"S-s-s-s-h!" + +"It's so, for I seed it. It's layin' down over in the hollow by 'tater +creek, where the ole clay root is, an' its jist about to d----." + +"S-s-h!" + +The child caught a glimpse of the face and was struck mute. And darkness +stole athwart the earth, but the morrow's sun drove it away. Never, +however, did any sun or any season chase from the heart of little Rose +the shadow that was the memory of the man who died in that cabin. + + + + +STEALING A CONDUCTOR. + + +He shambled into the bar-room of the hotel at Thorntown, a Boone County +village, and, with a bow and a hearty "how-de do to you all," took the +only vacant chair. He scratched a match and lighted his pipe. "Now we'll +be bored with some sort of a long-winded story," whispered some to +others of the loungers present. "Never knowed him to fail," said a lank +fellow, almost loud enough for the subject to hear. "He's our travelled +man," added a youth, who winked as if he were extremely intelligent and +didn't mind letting folks know it. + +The man himself whiffed away carelessly at his pipe, now and then +raising one eye higher than the other, to take a sort of side survey of +the persons present. That eye was not long in settling upon me, and +after a short, searching look, gleamed in a well pleased way. He was a +stout formed man of about fifty years, dressed rather seedily, and +wearing a plug hat of enormous height, the crown of which was battered +into the last degree of grotesqueness. He got right up, and, dragging +his chair behind him, came over and settled close down in front of me. + +"Stranger here, a'n't you?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your name's Fuller, a'n't it?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, mebbe I'm mistaken, but you're just the picter o' Fuller. Never +was a conductor on a railroad, was you?" + +"Never, sir." + +"Never was down in the swamps o' South-Eastern Georgy, was you?" + +"Never, sir." + +"Well, that beats four aces! I could 'a' bet on your bein' Fuller." He +paused a moment, and then added in a very insinuating tone: "If you +_are_ Fuller you needn't be afeard to say so, for I don't hold any +grudge 'gin you about that little matter. Now, sure enough, a'n't your +name Fuller, in fact?" + +I glared at the man a moment, hesitating about whether or not I should +plant my fist in his eye. But something of almost child-like simplicity +and sincerity beaming from his face restrained me. Surely the fellow did +not wish to be as impudent as his words would imply. + +"Well, stranger, I see I've got to explain, but the story's not overly +long," said he, hitching up a little closer to me and settling himself +comfortably. + +I was about to get up and walk out of the room, when some one of the +by-sitters filliped a little roll of paper to me. Unrolling it I read-- + +"Let him go on, he'll give you a lively one. He's a brick." + +So, concluding that possibly I might be entertained, I lounged back in +my seat. + +"You see," said he, "I thought you was Fuller, an' Fuller was the only +conductor I ever stole." + +"Stole a conductor," whispered somebody, "that's a new one!" + +"I've stole a good many things in my time, but I'm here to bet that no +other living Hoosier ever stole a railroad conductor, an' Fuller was the +only one I ever stole. I stole him slicker 'n a eel. I had him 'fore he +knowed it, and you jist better bet he was one clean beat conductor fore +I was done wi' 'im. + +"I kin tell you the whole affair in a few minutes, and I da' say you'll +laugh a good deal 'fore I'm through. You see I went down to Floridy for +my health, and when I had about recivered I got onto a bum in +Jacksonville and spent all my money and everything else but my very +oldest suit o' clothes and my pistol, a Colt's repeater, ten inch +barrel. None o' you can't tell how a feller feels in a predicament o' +that sort. Somethin' got into my throat 'bout as big as a egg, and I +felt kinder moist about the eyes when I had to stare the fact in the +face that I was nigh onto, or possibly quite a thousand miles from home +without ary a dime in my pocket. But if there's one thing I do have more +'n another in my nater it's common sense grit. Well, what you s'pose I +done? W'y I jest lit out for home afoot. Well, sir, the derndest swamps +is them Floridy and Georgy swamps. It's ra'lly all one swamp--the +Okeefenokee. I follered the railroad that goes up to Savanny, and it led +me deeper and deeper into the outlying fringes of that terrible old bog. +When I had travelled a considerable distance into Georgy, and had pretty +well wore my feet off up to my ankle j'ints, and was about as close onto +starvation as a 'tater failure in Ireland, and when my under lip had got +to hanging down like the skirt o' a wore out saddle, and when every step +seemed like it'd be my last, I jest got clean despairing like and +concluded to pray a little. So I got down upon my knee j'ints and put +up a most extra-ornary supplication. I felt every word o' it, too, in +all the marrer of my bones. The place where I was a prayin' was a sort +o' hummock spot in a mighty bad part o' the swamp. Some awful tall pines +towered stupenjisly above me. Well, jest as I was finished, and was a +saying amen, the lordy mercy what a yowl something did give right over +me in a tree! I think I jumped as high as your head, stranger, and come +down flat-footed onto a railroad cross tie. Whillikins, how I was +scared! It was one o' them whooping owls they have down there. It was +while I was a running from that 'ere owl a thinkin' it was a panther, +that the thought struck me somewhere in the back o' the head that I +might steal a ride to Savanny on the first train 'at might pass. 'I'll +try it!' says I, and so I sot right down there in the swamp and calmly +waited for a train. In about a hour here come one, like the de'il a +braking hemp, jist more'n a roaring through the swamp. I forgot to tell +you 'at it was after dark, but the moon was dimly a shining through the +fog that covers everything there o' nights. Well, here come the train, +and as she passed I made a lunge at the hind platform of the last car +and some how or another got onto it and away I went. It was mighty much +softer 'n walking, I tell you, and I was pleased as a monkey with a red +cap on. My, how fast that train did go! I could hardly hold onto where I +wus. You may jist bet I clung on though, and finally I got myself +setting down on the steps and then I was all hunkey. But I didn't have +much time to enjoy myself there, though, for all of a sudden the light +of a lantern shined on me and then somebody touched me and said-- + + 'Ticket!' + +"Mebbe you don't know how onery a feller'll feel sometimes when he hears +that 'ere word ticket--'specially when he a'n't got no ticket nor no +money to pay his fare, and too, when he does want to ride a little of +the derndest! That was my fix! I'd 'a' give a thousand dollars for a +half dollar! + + 'Ticket!' + +"He shook me a little this time and held his lantern down low, so's to +see into my face. I know I must 'a' looked like the de'il. + + 'Ticket here, quick!' + + 'I've done paid,' said I. + + 'Show your check then.' + + 'Lost it,' says I. + + 'Money, then, quick!' + + 'Got none,' says I. + + 'What the ---- did you git onto my train for without ticket or money? + How do you expect to travel without paying, you ---- lousy vagabond! You + can't steal from me; out with your ---- wallet and gi' me the money! + Hurry up!' + + 'A'n't got no wallet nor no money,' says I. + + 'Well, I'll dump you off right here, then,' said he, reaching for the + bell-rope to stop the train. + + 'For the Lord's sake let me ride to Savanny!' says I. + + 'A dam Northerner, I know from your voice!' said he, pulling the rope. + The train began to slack and soon stopped. + + 'Get off!' said the conductor. + + 'Please l'me ride!' says I. + + 'Off with you!' + + 'Jist a few miles here on the steps!' + + 'Off, quick!' + + 'Please----' + + 'Here you go!' and as he said the words he tried to kick me off. + +"In a second I was like a Bengal tiger. I jumped up and gethered him and +we went at it. I'm as good as ever fluttered, and pretty soon I give him +one flat on the nose, and we both went off 'n the platform together. As +I started off I happened to think of it, so I grabbed up and pulled the +bell-rope to signal the engineer to drive on. 'Hoot-toot!' says the +whistle, and away lick-to-split went the train, and slashy-to-splashy, +rattle-o-bangle, kewoppyty-whop, bump, thud! down me and that 'ere +conductor come onto a pile o' wore out cross ties in the side ditch, and +there we laid a fightin'! + +"But you jest bet it didn't take me long to settle _him_. He soon began +to sing out ''nuff! 'nuff! take 'm off!' and so I took him by the hair +and dragged him off 'n the cross ties, shot him one or two more under +the ear with my fist, and then dropped him. He crawled up and stood +looking at me as if I was the awfulest thing in the world. I s'pect I +did look scary, for I was terrible mad. His face was bruised up +mightily, but he wasn't a bleeding much. He was mostly swelled. + + 'Where's my train?' says he, in a sort o' blank, hollow way. + + 'Don't ye hear it?' I answered him, 'It's gone on to Savanny!' + + 'Gone! Who told 'm to go on? What'd they go leave me for?' + + 'I pulled the bell rope,' says I. + + '_You?_' + + 'Yes, _me_!' + + 'What in the world did you do _that_ for, man?' + + ''Cause you wouldn't let me ride to Savanny!' + + 'What'll I do! What'll I do!' he cried, beginning to waltz 'round like + one possessed. + +"I laughed--I couldn't help it--and at the same time I pulled out my old +pistol. + + 'Yah-hoo-a!' yelled another owl. + + 'For the sake o' humanity don't kill me!' said the conductor. + + 'I'm jest a going to shoot you a little bit for the fun o' the thing,' + says I. + + 'Mercy, man!' he prayed. + + 'Ticket!' says I. + +"He groaned the awfulest kind, and, by the moonlight, I saw 'at the big +tears was running down his face. I felt sorry for him, but I kinder +thought 'at after what he'd done he'd better pray a little, so I +mentioned it to him. + + 'I guess it mought be best if you'd pray a little,' says I, cocking the + pistol. My voice had a decided sepulchreal sound. The pistol clicked + very sharp. + + 'O, kind sir,' says he, 'O, dear sir, I never did pray, I don't know how + to pray!' + + 'Ticket or check!' says I, and he knowed I was talking kind o' sarcasm. + 'Pray quick!' + +"He got down and prayed like a Methodist preacher at his very best +licks. He must 'a' prayed afore. + +"About the time his prayer was ended I heard a train coming in the +distance. He jumped up and listened. + + 'Glory! Heaven be praised!' says he, capering around like a mad monkey, + 'They've missed me and are backing down to hunt me! Where's my lantern? + Have you a match? Gi'me your handkerchief!' + + 'Not so fast,' says I; 'you jest be moderate now, will you? I've no + notion o' you getting on that train any more. You jest walk along wi' + me, will you?' + + 'Where?' says he. + + 'Into the swamp,' says I; 'step off lively, too, d'you hear me?' + + 'O mercy, mercy, man!' says he. + + 'Ticket!' says I, and then he walked along wi' me into the swamp some + two or three hundred yards from the railroad. + +"I took him into a very thickety place, and made him back up agin a tree +and put back his arms around it. Then I took one o' his suspenders and +tied him hard and fast. Then I gagged him with my handkerchief. So far, +so good. + +"Here come the train slowly backing down, the brakesman a swinging +lanterns, and the passengers all swarming onto the platforms. Poorty +soon they stopped right opposite us. The conductor began to struggle. I +poked the pistol in his face and jammed the gag furder into his mouth. +He saw I meant work and got quiet. + +"The passengers was swarming off 'n the train and I saw 'at I must git +about poorty fast if I was to do anything. I soon hit on a plan. I jist +stepped back a piece out o' sight o' the conductor and turned my coat, +which was one o' these two-sided affairs, one side white, t'other brown. +I turned the white side out. Then I flung away my greasy skull cap and +took a soft hat out 'n my pocket and put it on. Then I watched my chance +and mixed in with the passengers who was a hunting for the conductor. + + 'Strange what's become o' him,' says I to a fat man, who was puffing + along. + + 'Dim strange, dim strange,' says the big fellow, in a keen, wheezing + voice. + +"Well, you never saw jist sich hunting as was done for that conductor. +Everybody slopped around in the swamp till their clothes was as wet and +muddy as mine. I was monstrous active in the search. I hunted +everywhere 'cepting where the conductor was. Finally he got the gag spit +out and lordy how he did squeal for help. Everybody rushed to him and +soon had him free. + +"It tickled me awful to hear that conductor explaining the matter. He +told it something like this: + + 'Devil of a great big ruffian on hind platform. Asked him for ticket. + Refused. Tried to put him off. Grabbed me. Smashed my nose. Flung me + off. Pulled the bell-rope, then lit out on me. Mauled ---- out o' me. + Had a pistol two feet long. Made me pray. Heard train a coming. Took me + to swamp. Tied me and sloped. Lord but I'm glad to see you all!' + +"We all went aboard o' the train and I rode to Savanny onmolested. The +conductor didn't mistrust me. He asked me for my check and I told him +'at I'd lost it a thrashing round in the bushes a hunting him. That was +all right. + +"When we got to Savanny I couldn't help letting the conductor know me, +so as I passed down the steps of the car I whispered savagely in his +ear: + + 'Ticket! dod blast you!' + +"He tried to grab me as I shambled off into the crowd, but I knowed the +ropes. I heard him a shoutin'-- + + 'There he goes! Ketch him, dern him, ketch him!' But they didn't. + +"That conductor's name was Fuller, and I swear, stranger, 'at you look +jest like him! Gi' me a match, will you, my pipe's out. Thanky. Hope I +ha'n't bored you. Good bye all." + +He shambled out and I never saw him again. + + + + +HOIDEN. + + +The house was known as Rackenshack throughout the neighborhood for miles +around. It was a frame structure, originally of sorry workmanship, at +least thirty years old, and upon which not a cent's worth of repairing +had been done since first erected, wherefore the name was peculiarly +appropriate. It was not only old, rickety, paintless, half rotten and +sadly sunken at one end, but the fencing around the place was broken, +grown over with weeds, and slanted in as many ways as there were panels. +The lawn or yard in front of the house had some old cherry trees, +gnarled and decaying, growing in what had once been straight rows, but +storms and more insidious vicissitudes had twisted and curled them about +till they looked as though they had been thrown end foremost at the +ground hap-hazard. Under and all round these trees young sprouts, from +the scattered cherry seeds of many years of fruiting, had grown so thick +that one could with difficulty get through them. A narrow, well-beaten +path led from the gate, which lazily lolled on one hinge, up to the +decayed and sunken porch, in front of which was the well, with its +lop-eared windlass and dilapidated curb and shed. + +A country thoroughfare, one of the old State roads leading westward to a +ferry on the Wabash river near the village of Attica and eastward to +either Crawfordsville, Indianapolis or Lafayette. This road was in the +direct line of emigration, and in the proper seasons long lines of +covered wagons rolled past, the drivers, a jolly set, hallooing to each +other and bandying sharp wit and rude sarcasm at the expense of +Rackenshack. Poor old house, it leered at the passers, with its windows +askew, and clattered its loose boards and battered shutters in utter and +complacent defiance of all their jeers! + +Rackenshack belonged to Luke Plunkett and Betsy, his sister; the latter +an old maid beyond all cavil, the former a bachelor of about thirty. The +lands of the estate were pretty broad, comprising some two thousand +acres of rich prairie and "river bottom" land, which had been kept in a +much better state of improvement than the house had. In fact, Luke was +considered a careful, industrious, frugal farmer. He had large, well +regulated barns and stock sheds and stables--plenty of fine horses, +cattle, hogs, sheep and mules, all well fed and cared for, and it was +generally understood that he had a pretty round deposit in a bank. + +Perhaps 'Squire Rube Fink, sometimes called "the Rev. Major Fink" and +sometimes "Talking Rube," gives the best description of Luke's +condition, habits and surroundings, that I can offer. It is truthful and +singularly graphic. He says: + +"Luke Plunkett's no fool if he does live at Rack-a-me-shack and 'spect +the ole rotten tabernacle to fall down on him every time a rooster crows +close by. That feller's long-headed, he is. To be sure, sartinly, his +barn's a dern sight better 'n his house, but his head's level, for, d'ye +see, that's the way to make money. A house don't never make no money for +a feller--it's nothin' but dead capital to put money into a fine +dwellin'. Luke's pilin' his money in the bank. He's been doin' a sharp +thing in wheat and live stock at Cincinnati, and I guess he knows what +he's about. He don't keer about what sort o' house he lives in. But I +tell you that red haired sister o' his'n is lightning. She's what bosses +the job all round that ole shanty; but she can't red-hair it over Luke +in the farm matters. He has his own way. He's so quiet and peculiar; a +still, say nothin', bull-dog sort o' man he is." + +Indeed, Luke was one of that quiet sort of men who, without ever once +loudly asserting a right or disputing any word you say, invariably go +ahead on their own judgment and carry their point in everything. +Nevertheless, he was a man of fine, generous nature at bottom, a good +brother and a worthy friend. + +But it was with Luke just as it is, more or less, with us all. He +absorbed into his life the spirit of his surroundings. He grew somewhat +to resemble Rackenshack in outward appearance. He became slovenly in his +dress and let his hair and beard grow wild. His naturally handsome face +gradually took on a sort of good humored ugliness, and his heavy +shoulders slanted over like the uneven gables of his house. He became an +inveterate chewer and smoker of tobacco. What time a quid of the weed +was not in his mouth, the short thick stem of a dark, nicotine-coated +briar-root pipe took its place there. + +Luke was an early riser; therefore it happens that our story properly +begins on a fine June morning, just before sunrise. The birds seemed to +suspect that a story was to date from that hour, for they were up +earlier than usual and made a great rustle of wings and a sweet Babel of +voices in the old cherry trees. There were the oriole, the cat bird, the +yellow throat, the brown thrush and the red bird, all putting forth at +once their charmingest efforts. The old cherry trees, knee deep in the +foliage of their under growing seedlings, gleamed dusky green in the +early light, as Luke, bareheaded, barefooted and in his "shirt sleeves," +as the phrase goes, issued from the front door of Rackenshack, and +walked down the path across the yard to the gate at the road. Of late he +had been in the habit of "taking a smoke" the first thing after getting +up in the morning, and somehow the gate, though off one hinge and having +doubtful tenure of the other, was his favorite thing to lean upon while +watching the whiffs of blue smoke slowly float away. + +On this particular morning he seemed a little agitated; and, indeed, he +was vexed more deeply than he had ever before been. Just the preceding +evening he had learned that a corps of civil engineers were rapidly +approaching his premises with a line of survey, and that the purpose was +to locate and build a railway right through the middle of his farm. To +Luke the very idea was outrageous. He felt that he could never stand +such an imposition. His land was his own, and when he wanted it dug up +and leveled down and a track laid across it he would do it himself. He +did not want his farm cut in two, his fields disarranged and his fences +moved, nor did he wish to see his live stock killed by locomotives. The +truth is he was bitterly opposed to railroads, any how. They were +innovations. They were enemies to liberty. They brought fashion, and +spendthrift ways, and speculation, and all that along with them. Other +folks might have railroads if they wanted them, but they must not bother +him with them. He could take care of his affairs without any railroads. +Besides, if he wanted one he could build it. He hung heavily upon the +gate, thinking the matter over, and would not have bestowed a second +glance at the carriage that came trundling past if he had not caught the +starry flash of a pair of blue eyes and a rosy, roguish girl's face +within. The beauty of that countenance struck the great rough fellow +like a blow. He stared in a dazed, bewildered way. He took his pipe from +his mouth and involuntarily tried to hide his great big bare feet behind +the gate post. He felt a queer, dreamy thrill steal all over him. It +was his first definite impression of feminine beauty. Instantly that +round, happy, mischievous face, with its dimples and indescribable +shining lines of half latent mirth, set itself in his heart forever. + +The carriage trundled on in the direction of the ferry. Luke followed it +with his eyes till it disappeared round a turn in the road; then he put +the pipe to his mouth again and began puffing vigorously, wagging his +head in a way that indicated great confusion of mind. There are times +when a glimpse of a face, the sudden half-mastering of a new, grand +idea, a view of a rare landscape or even a cadence in some new tune, +will start afresh the long dried up wells of a heart. Something like +this had happened to Luke. + +"Sich a gal! sich a gal!" he murmured from the corner of his mouth +opposite his pipe stem. "I don't guess I'm a dreamin' now, though I feel +a right smart like it. I _hev_ dreamed of that 'ere face though, many of +times. I've seed it in my sleep a thousand times, but I never s'posed +'at I'd see it shore enough when I'd be awake! Sweetest dreams I ever +had--sweetest face God ever made! I wonder who she is?" As if to +supplement Luke's soliloquy at this point, a cardinal red bird flung +out from the dusky depths of the oldest cherry tree an ecstatic carol, +and a swallow, swooping down from the clear purple heights, almost +touched the man's cheek with its shining wings, and the sun lifted its +flaming face in the east and flooded the fields with gold. + +Luke turned slowly toward the old house. The breeze that came up with +the sun poured through the orchard with a broad, joyous surge, while +something like blowing of strange winds and streaming of soft sunlight +made strangely happy the inner world of the smitten Hoosier. His big +strong heart fluttered mysteriously. He actually took his pipe from his +lips and broke into a snatch of merry song, that startled Betsy, his +sister, from her morning nap. + +For the time the hated railroad survey was forgotten. The landscape at +Rackenshack, as if by a turn of the great prisms of nature, suddenly +took on rainbow hues. The fields flashed with jewels, and the woods, a +wall of dusky emerald, were wrapped in a roseate mist, stirred into +dreamy motion by the breeze. A light, grateful fragrance seemed to +pervade all space, as if flung from the sun to soften and enhance the +charm of his gift of light and heat. Such a hold did all this take upon +Luke, and so utterly abstracted was he, that when breakfast was ready +Betsy was obliged to remind him of the fact that he had neglected to +wash his face and hands, and comb his hair and beard--things absolutely +prerequisite to eating at her table. + +"Forgot it, sure's the world," said Luke; "don't know what ever +possessed me." + +"Maybe you've forgot to turn the cows into the milk stalls, too?" said +Betsy. + +"If I ha'n't I'm a gourd!" and Luke scratched his head distractedly. + +"What'd I tell you, Luke Plunkett? It's come at last, O lordy! You're as +crazy as a June bug all along of smoking that old pipe! Rot the nasty, +stinking old thing! It's a perfect shame, Luke, for a man to just smoke +what little brains he's got clean out. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, so you ought!" + +While she was speaking Betsy got the big wooden washbowl for her +brother, whereupon he proceeded to make his ablutions in a most +energetic way, taking up great double handfuls of water and sousing his +face therein with loud puffings, that enveloped his head in a cloud of +spray. + +When a clean tow linen towel had served its purpose, Luke remarked: + +"Don't know but what I _am_ some'at crazy in good earnest, Betsy, since +I come to think it all over. I'm r'ally onto it a right smart. What'd +you think, Betsy, if I'd commence talkin' 'oman to ye?" + +"Luke, Luke! are you crazy? Is your mind clean gone out of your poor +smoky head?" + +"That's not much of a answer to my question." + +"Well, what _do_ you mean, _anyhow_?" + +"I mean business, that's what!" + +"Luke!" + +"Yes'm." + +"Do try to act sensible now. What is it, Luke? What makes your eyes look +so strange and dance about so? What do you mean by all this queer talk?" + +Luke finished combing, and, going to the table, sat down and was +proceeding to discuss the fried chicken and coffee without further +remark, but Betsy was not so easily balked. She, like most red haired +women, wished her questions to be fully and immediately answered, +wherefore some indications of a storm began to appear. + +Luke smiled a quiet little smile that had hard work getting out through +his beard. Betsy trotted her foot under the table. Her hand trembled as +she poured the coffee--trembled so violently that she scalded her left +thumb. It was about time for Luke to speak or have trouble, so, in a +very gentle voice, he said: + +"Well, I saw a gal--a gal an' her father, I reckon--go by this mornin'." + +"Well, what of it? S'pose there's plenty of girls and their fathers, +ain't there?" snapped Betsy. + +Luke drew a chicken leg through his mouth, laid down the bone, leered +comically at his sister from under his bushy eyebrows, and said: + +"But the gal was purty, Betsy--purty as a pictur', sweet as a peach, +juicy an' temptin' as a ripe, red cored watermillion! You can't begin to +guess how sweet an' nice she did look. My heart just flolloped and +flopped about, an' it's at it yet!" + +"Luke Plunkett, you _are_ crazy! You're just as distracted as a blind +dog in high rye. Drink a cup of hot coffee, Luke, and go lie down a bit, +you'll feel better." The spinster was horrified beyond measure. She +really thought her brother crazy. + +The man finished his meal in silence, smiling the while more grimly +than before, after which he took his shot gun and a pan of salt and +trudged off to a distant field to salt some cattle. He always carried +his gun with him on such occasions, and not unfrequently brought back a +brace of partridges or some young squirrels. As he strode along, +thinking all the time of the girl in the carriage, he suddenly came upon +a corps of engineers with transit, level, rod and chain, staking out, +through the centre of a choice field, a line of survey for a railroad. +In an instant he was like a roaring lion. He glared for a second or so +at the intruders, then lowering his gun he charged them at a run, +storming out as he did so: + +"What you doin' here, you onery cusses, you! Leave here! Get out! +Scratch! Sift! Dern yer onery skins, I'll shoot every dog of ye! Git out +'n here, I say--out, out!" + +The corps stampeded at once. The surveyor seized his transit, the +leveller his level, the rod man his rod, the axe men and chain men their +respective implements, and away they went, "lick-to-split, like a passel +o' scart hogs," as Luke afterwards said, "as fast as they could ever +wiggle along!" + +No wonder they ran, for Luke looked like a demon of destruction. It was +a wild race for the line fence, a full half mile away. The leveler, +being the hindmost man, rolled over this fence just as a heavy bowlder, +hurled by Luke, struck the top rail. It was a close shave, a miss of a +hair's breadth, a marvelous escape. Luke rushed up to the fence and +glared over at his intended victims. Here he knew he must stop, for he +doubted the legality of pursuing them beyond the confines of his own +premises. Somewhat out of breath he leaned on the fence and proceeded to +swear at the corps individually and collectively, shaking his fists at +them excitedly, till the appearance of a new man on the scene made him +start and stare as if looking at a ghost. He was a well dressed, +gentlemanly appearing person of about the age of forty-five, pale and +thoughtful--calm, gray eyed, commanding. Luke recognized him at once as +the man he had seen in the carriage, and, indeed, the vehicle itself +stood hard by, with a beautiful, laughing, roguish face looking out of +one of the windows. The lion in the stalwart farmer was quelled in an +instant. He felt his legs grow weak. He set his gun by the fence and +touched his hat to the little lady. + +"Your name, I believe, is Luke Plunkett?" said the approaching +gentleman. + +"Yes, sir," said Luke. + +"You own two thousand acres of land here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your residence is called Rackenshack?" + +"Yes, sir." (Suppressed titter from the carriage.) + +"So I thought. Pull back, men (addressing the corps), pull back to where +you dropped the line and bring it right along. Mr. Plunkett will not +harm you now." + +The corps began to move. Luke fiercely seized his gun; but before he +could lift it or utter a word, a ten-inch Colt's repeater was thrust +into his face by the calm gentleman, and a steady hand held it there. + +"Mr. Plunkett," said the man, "I am the chief engineer of the ---- +Railroad. I am making a location. The laws of this State give me the +right to go upon your land with my corps and have the survey made. I am +not to be trifled with. If you offer to cock that gun I'll put six holes +through you. What do you say, now?" + +The voice was that of a cold man of business. There was a coffin in +every word. The muzzle of the pistol steadily covered Luke's left eye. +The situation was rigid. Luke hesitated--his face ashy with anger and +fear, his eyes alternating their glances between the muzzle of the +pistol and that wonderful shining face at the carriage. + +"Shoot him, papa, shoot him! Shoot him!" Sweet as a silver bell rang out +the girl's voice, more like a ripple of idle song than a murderous +request, and then a clear, happy laugh went echoing off through the +woods in which the carriage stood. + +Slowly, steadily, Luke let fall the breech of his gun upon the ground +beside him. The engineer smiled grimly and lowered his pistol, while the +corps, headed by the surveyor, took up its line of march to the point +where work had been so suddenly left off. + +The young lady clapped her tiny white hands for joy. + +A big black woodpecker began to cackle in a tree hard by. + +Luke felt like a man in a dream. + +The whole adventure, so far, had been clothed in most unreal seeming. + +It can hardly be told how, by rapid transitions from one thing to +another in his talk, the engineer drew Luke's mind away from the late +difficulty and gradually aroused in him a kindly feeling. In less than +ten minutes the two men were sitting side by side on a log, smoking +cigars from the engineer's pouch and chatting calmly, amicably. + +Luke's eyes often rested steadily fixed in the direction of the +carriage. Through the thin veil of tobacco smoke the face of the young +girl seemed to the farmer angelic in its beauty. All around the sweets +of summer rose and fell, and drifted like scarcely visible shining +mists, fraught with the spice of leaf and perfume of blossom, agitated +by swells of tricksy wind, going on and on to the mysterious goal of the +season. + +The two men talked on until the corps had pushed the line of survey far +past them into the cool, shady deeps of the woods, whence their voices +came back fainter and fainter every moment. At length the engineer +arose, and stretching out his hand to Luke, said: + +"Mr. Plunkett, I'm sure I'll be able to serve you some time; let us be +friends. I shall be in this vicinity most of the time till the road is +built. No doubt I can show a way to profit by the construction of a +railroad across your land. If you are sharp it will make your fortune. I +like your independent way, sir, and hope to know you better. Here is my +card." + +Luke took the bit of pasteboard without saying a word. They shook hands +and the engineer got into his carriage. + +"Here's my card, too, Mr. Plunkett," cried the girl. She said something +more, but the horses were made to plunge rapidly away, and the words +were lost; but the flash of a white jewelled hand caught Luke's eye as a +delicately tinted card came fluttering towards him. He sprang and seized +it. If a bag of diamonds had been flung at his feet he could not have +been more excited. His hands trembled. All the incidents of the only +fairy tale he had ever read came at once into his mind. He stood with +his feet turned in, like some great awkward boy, a bashful, shame-faced +look lurking about his mouth and eyes. He filled his pipe and lighted it +from the stump of his cigar with nervous eagerness. A squirrel came down +to the lowest limbs of a beech tree hard by and barked at him, but he +did not notice it. He read the names on the cards: + + "_Elliot Pearl, C. E._" + "_Hoiden Pearl._" + +The first printed in small capitals, the second written in a delicate, +rather cramped feminine hand. He stood for a long time dreamily employed +in turning these bits of paper over and over. His thoughts were so vague +in outline and so dim in filling up that they cannot be reproduced. They +slipped away on the summer air, like little puffs of perfume, and were +lost, to be found by many and many a one in the ineffable places of +dreamland. Finally, shaking himself as if to break the charm that held +him in its meshes, he took up his gun and slowly made his way homeward. +All along his walk he kept smiling to himself and talking aloud, but his +words were such that it would be sacrilege to repeat them now. Let them +hover about in the sunlight of summer, where he uttered them, as things +too delicate to be pressed between the lids of a book. + +Betsy had trouble with Luke for some days after this. He lay about the +house, saying little, eating little, giving little attention to the many +tenants who worked his estate. He was in good health, was not in trouble +(so he said to his sister), but he did not care to be bothered with +business. He was tired and would rest awhile. "He smoked pretty near all +the time," as Betsy declared. But not a hint fell from his lips as to +what might be running in his mind. + +So the days slipped past till July hung golden mists on the horizon and +filled the woods with that rare stillness and dusky slumbrousness that +follows the maturing of the foliage and the coming on of fruit. The +cherry trees at Rackenshack had grown ragged and dull, and the birds, +excepting a few swallows wheeling about the old chimney tops, had all +flown away to the woods and fields. The wheat had been cut and stacked, +the corn had received its last ploughing. Still Luke hung about the +house annoying Betsy with his pipe and his utter carelessness. That he +was "distracted" Betsy did not for a moment doubt. She used every means +her small stock of wit could invent to urge him out of his singular +mood, but without avail. He took to the few old novels he could find +about the house, but sometimes he would gaze blankly at a single +paragraph for a whole hour. + +One morning as he lay on the porch, his head resting upon the back of a +chair, reading, or pretending to read an odd volume of "The Scottish +Chiefs," a little boy, 'Squire Brown's son, came to bring home a +monkey-wrench his father had borrowed some time before. The boy was a +bright, rattle-box, say-everything, pop-eyed sort of child, and was not +long telling all the news of the neighborhood. Luke gave little +attention to what he was saying, till at length he let fall something +about a young lady--a fine, rich young lady, staying at Judge +Barnett's--a young lady who could outrun him, out jump him, beat him +playing marbles and ball, who could climb away up in the June apple +tree, who could ride a colt bareback, who could beat Jim Barnett +shooting at a mark, who could, in fact, do a half a hundred things to +perfection that strict persons would think a young lady should never do +at all, but which seemed to make a heroine of her in the narrator's +boyish view. + +"What's the gal's name?" queried Luke in a slow, lazy way, but his eyes +shot a gleam of hope. + +"Hoidy Pearl," replied the lad. + +Hoiden Pearl! That name had been woven into every sound that had reached +Luke's ears for days and nights and nights together, and now, like a +sweet tune nearly mastered, it took a deeper, tenderer meaning as the +boy pronounced it in his childish way. + +"Hoidy Pearl is her name," the lad continued. "She's come to stay at the +Judge's all summer till the new railroad's finished. Her father's the +boss of the road. She's jest the funniest girl, o-o-e! And she likes me, +too!" + +Luke raised himself to a sitting posture and looked at the boy so +earnestly that he drew back a pace or two as if afraid. + +"Boy, you're not lyin', are ye?" said the man in a low, earnest tone. + +"No I'm not, neither," was the quick reply. + +Luke got up, flung aside his book and strolled off into the woods. +Wandering there in the cool, silent places, he dreamed his dream. For +hours he sat by a little spring stream in the dense shadow of a big +cotton-wood tree. The birds congregated about him, and chirped and sang; +the squirrels came out chattering and frisking from branch to branch; +but he gave them no look of recognition--he saw them not, heard them +not. The birds might have lit upon his head and the squirrels might have +run in and out of his pockets with impunity. He smoked all the time, +refilling and relighting his pipe whenever it burned out. He did not +know how much he was smoking, nor that he was smoking at all. A bright +face set in a mass of yellow curls, a wee white hand all spangled with +jewels, a voice sweeter than any bird's, a name--Hoiden Pearl--these +rang, and danced, and echoed, and shone in the recesses of his brain and +heart to the exclusion of all else. He was trying to think, but he could +not. He wanted to mature a plan, but not even an outline could find room +in his head. It was full. Strange, indeed, it may seem, that a rough +farmer of Luke's age should thus fall into the ways of the imaginative, +sentimental stripling; but, after all, the fit must come on some time +in life. No doubt it goes harder with some constitutions than with +others. Luke may have been unwittingly strongly predisposed that way. +Neither the exterior of a man nor his surroundings will do to judge him +by. Nature is that mysterious in all her ways. Luke talked aloud, +sometimes gesticulating in a quiet way. + +"I _must_ see the gal--I _will_ see the gal," he muttered at last. "It's +no use talkin', I jist will see her!" + +Suddenly a light broke from his face. He smiled like one who has victory +in his grasp--like an editor who has an idea, like a reviewer who has +found some bad verse. He got up immediately, went back to the barn, +hitched a horse to a small road wagon and drove to town. There he spent +time and money with a merchant tailor and other vendors of clothing. He +was very fastidious in his selection. Nothing but the finest would do +him. A few days after this he brought home a trunk full of princely +raiment--broad cloth and fine linen. Betsy was struck dumb with +amazement when the trunk was opened. A dream of such costly things, such +reckless extravagance, would have driven her mad. Silent, open-eyed, +wondering, she came in and stood behind Luke while he was unpacking. He +looked up presently and saw her. His face flushed violently, and in a +half-whining, half-ashamed tone he muttered: + +"Now, Betsy, you jest git out'n here faster'n ye come in, for I'm not +goin' to stan' no foolin' at all, now. These 'ere's my clothes and paid +for out'n my money, an' I'm the jedge of what I need. I ha'n't had any +good duds for a long time, and I'm tired o' lookin' like a scarecrow +made out'n a salt bag. I've been thinkin' for a long time I'd git these +'ere things, an' now I've got'm. You kin git you some if ye like, but I +don't want ye a standin' round here gawpin' at me on 'count o' my +clothes; so you go off an' mind yer own affairs. It's no great sight to +see some shirts, an' coats, and pants, an' collars, an' vests, an' sich +like, is it?" + +Before this speech was finished Betsy had backed out of the room and +closed the door. As she did so she let go a sigh that came back to Luke +like a Parthian arrow; but it happened just then that he was holding up +in front of him a buff linen vest which kept the missile from his heart. + +He dressed himself with great care, and an hour later he slipped out of +the house unseen, and took his way towards the rather pretentious +residence of Judge Barnett, the gables of which, a mile away, gleamed +between rows of Lombardy poplars. The Judge was one of those half +cultivated men who, in every country neighborhood, pass for prodigies of +learning and ability. He was the autocrat of the county in political and +social affairs--one of those men who really know a great deal, but who +arrogate more. He got his title from having been County Commissioner +when the court house was building. Some said he made money out of the +transaction, but our story is silent there. + +It would have been an interesting study for a philosopher to have +watched Luke throughout the singular ramble he took that morning. It +would have been such a manifest revelation of the state of the fellow's +feelings. It would have minutely disclosed, and more eloquently than any +verbal confession, the rise and fall, the ebb and flow, the alternating +strength and weakness of his purpose, and the will behind it. Then, too, +it would have let fall delightful hints of the unselfishness of his new +and all-engrossing passion, and of the charming simplicity and sincerity +of his great rugged nature at its inner core. At first he struck out +boldly a direct line to Judge Barnett's residence, his face beaming +with the light of settled happiness, but as he neared the pleasant +grounds surrounding the house he began to discover some trepidation. His +gait wavered, the expression of his face shifted with each step, and +soon his course was indeterminate--a fitful sauntering from this place +to that--a tricksy, uneven flight, like that of a lazy butterfly, if one +may indulge the comparison--a meandering in and out among the trees of a +small walnut grove--a strolling here and there, now along the verge of a +well set old orchard, now down the low hedge behind the garden, and anon +leaning over the board fence that inclosed the Judge's ample barn and +stable lot; he gazed wistfully, half comically, in the direction of the +upper windows of the farm house. It was one of those peculiarly yellow +days of summer, when everything swims in a golden mist. The blue birds +floated aimlessly about from stake to stake of the fences; the wind, +felt only in jerky puffs, blew no particular way, and as idly and as +eccentrically as any blue bird, and in full accord with the fitful will +of the wind, Luke drifted through the sheen of summer all round Barnett +Place. He lazed about, humming a tune, and, for a wonder, not +smoking--half restless, half contented, looking for something, scarcely +expecting anything. When once a great rough man does get into a childish +way, he is a child of which ordinary children would be ashamed, and just +then Luke, the big bashful fellow, was an instance strikingly in point. +Occasionally he talked half aloud to himself. Once, while lounging on +the orchard fence, gazing down between the long rows of russet and +pippin trees, he said dreamily, + +"I _must_ see her. I can't go back 'ithout seein' her." It so chanced +that just then a shower of blackbirds fell upon the orchard, covering +the trees and the ground, flying over and over each other, twittering +and whistling as only blackbirds can. Their wings smote together with a +tender rustling sound like that of a spring wind in young foliage, or of +a thousand lovers whispering together by moonlight. Luke watched them a +long while, a doleful shade gathering in his face. "The little things +loves each other," he muttered; "everything loves something; an' jest +dern my lights ef I don't love the gal, an' I'm boun' to see her!" +Seemingly nerved by sudden resolution, he climbed over the fence and +started at a slashing pace across the orchard towards the house, scaring +all the birds into an ecstasy of flight, so that they dashed themselves +against the foliage of the apple trees, making it rustle and sway as if +blown on by a strong wind. He did not keep on, however. His resolution +seemed to burn out about midway the orchard. He began to drift around +again, his pace becoming slower and slower. His shoulders drooped +forward as if burdened with a great load, his eyes turned restlessly +from side to aide. + +"I jest can't do it!" he murmured--"I jest can't do it, an' I mought as +well go back!" There was a petulant ring to his voice--a nervous, +worried tone, that had despair in it. + +Out of a June apple tree right over his head fell a sweet, silvery, half +child's, half woman's voice, that thrilled him through every fibre to +the marrow of his bones. + +"What's the matter, Goosey? What have you lost! What are you hunting +for? Want a good apple?" + +Luke looked up just in time to catch squarely on his nose a fine, ripe +June apple, and through a mist of juice and a sheeny curtain of leaves +he saw the lovely face he had come to look for. A thump on the nose from +an apple, no matter if it is ripe and soft, is a little embarrassing, +and it only makes it more so when the racy wine of the fruit flies into +one's eyes and all over one's new clothes. But there are moments of +supreme bliss when such a mishap passes unnoticed. Luke felt as if the +blow had been the touch of a magician conjuring up a scene that held him +rapt and speechless. + +"O, my! I didn't go to hit you! Please excuse me, sir--do. I thought +you'd catch it in your hands." + +She came lightly down from the tree, descending like a bird, easily, +gracefully, as if she had been born to climb. She murmured many +apologies, but the genius of fun danced in her saucy, almost impertinent +eyes, belying her regretful words. Luke looked down at her dazed and +speechless. She, however, was full of prattle--half childish, half +womanly, half serious, half bantering--her eyes upturned to his, her +voice a very bird's in melody. In the more innocent sense of the word +she looked like her name, Hoiden. Nothing unchaste or indelicate about +her appearance; just a sort of want of restraint; a freedom that +amounted to an utter lack of responsibility to the ordinary claims and +dictates of propriety. A close, trained, intelligent observer would have +seen at once that she was wilful, spoiled, unbridled, but not bad, not +in the least vicious; really innocent and full of good impulses. She was +beautiful, too--wonderfully beautiful--just on the hither side of +womanhood, plump, budding, bewitching. How she did it can never be +known, but she soon had Luke racing with her all over the orchard. They +climbed trees together, they scrambled for the same apple, they laughed, +and shouted, and played till the horn at the farmhouse called the field +hands to dinner. They parted then, as children part, promising to meet +again the next day. The girl's cheeks were rosy with exercise, so were +Luke's. + +How strange! Day after day that great, bearded, almost middle-aged, +uncouth farmer went and played slave to that chit of a girl, doing +whatever ridiculous or childish thing she proposed, caring for nothing, +asking for nothing but to be with her, listen to her voice and feast his +eyes upon her beauty. He gladly bore everything she heaped upon him, and +to be called "Goosey" by her was to him inexpressibly charming. + +Betsy's womanly nature was not to be deceived. She soon comprehended +all; but she dared not mention the subject to Luke. He was in no mood to +be opposed. So he went on--and Betsy sighed. + +The summer softened into autumn. The maple leaves reddened. The long +grass turned brown and lolled over. A softness and tenderness lurked in +the deep blue sky, and the air had a sharp racy fragrance from ripe +fruit and grain. Meantime the railroad had been pushed with amazing +rapidity nearly to completion. Every day long construction trains went +crashing-across Luke's farm. Passenger coaches were to be put on in a +few days. Luke was the very picture of happiness. He seemed to grow +younger every day. His worldly prospects, too, were flattering. A +station had been located on his land, around which a town had already +begun to spring up. The vast value of Luke's timber, walnut and oak, was +just beginning to appear; indeed, immense wealth lay in his hands. But +his happiness was of a deeper and purer sort than that generated by +simple pecuniary prosperity. Hoiden Pearl was in the focus of all his +thoughts; her face lighted his dreams, her voice made the music that +charmed him into a wonderland of bliss. He said little about her, even +to Betsy, but it needed no sharpness of sight to discover from his face +what was going on in his heart. He had even forgotten his pipe. He had +not smoked since that first day in the orchard. He had straightened up +and looked a span taller. + +The girl did not seem to dream of any tender attachment on Luke's part. +In fact he gave her no cause for it. He fed on his love inwardly and +never thought of telling it. To be with her was enough. It satisfied all +his wants. She was frank and free with him, but tyrannized over +him--ordered him about like a servant, scolded him, flattered him, +pouted at him, smiled on him, indeed kept him crazy with rapture all the +time. Once only she became confidentially communicative. It was one day, +sitting on an old mossy log in the Judge's woodland pasture, she told +him the story of her past life. How thrillingly beautiful her face +became as it sobered down with the history of early orphanage! Her +father had died first; then her mother, who left her four years old in +the care of Mr. Pearl, her paternal uncle, with whom she had ever since +been, going from place to place, as the calls of his nomadic profession +made it necessary, from survey to survey, from this State to that, +seeing all sorts of people, and receiving her education in small, +detached parcels. The story was a sad, unsatisfactory one, breathing +neglect, yet full of a certain kind of sprightliness, and touched here +and there with the fascination of true romance. + +It is hard to say when Luke would have awakened from his tender trance +to the strong reality of love. He was too contented for +self-questioning, and no act or word of Hoiden's invited him to consider +what he was doing or whither he was drifting. + +It was well for Luke and the girl, too, that it was a sparsely settled +neighborhood, for evil tongues might have made much of their constant +companionship and childish behavior. + +As for the Judge, after it was all over he admitted that he felt some +qualms of conscience about allowing such unlimited intimacy to go on, +but he excused himself by saying that the girl, when confined to the +house, was such an unmitigated nuisance that he was glad for some one to +monopolize her company. + +"Why," said he, in his peculiar way, "she set the whole house by the +ears. She made more clatter and racket than a four-horse Pennsylvania +wagon coming down a rocky hill. She would go from garret to cellar like +a whirlwind and twist things wrong side out as she went----she was a +tart!" + +But at length, toward the middle of autumn the end came. Luke had +business with some hog-buyers in Cincinnati, whither he was gone +several days. Meantime the railroad was completed, and Mr. Pearl came to +the Judge's early one morning and called for Hoiden. His business with +his employers was ended, and he had just finished an arrangement that +had long been on foot to go to one of the South American States and take +charge of a vast engineering scheme there. The girl was delighted. Such +a prospect of travel and adventure was enough to set one of her +temperament wild with enthusiasm. She flew to packing her trunk, her +face radiant with joy. + +Only an hour later Mr. Pearl and Hoiden stood at the new station on +Luke's land, waiting for the east-going train. Mr. Pearl happened to +think of a business message he wished to leave for Luke, so he went into +the depot building and wrote it. When Hoiden saw the letter was for Luke +she begged leave to put in a few words of postscript, and she had her +way. + +The train came and the man and girl were whirled away to New York, and +thence they took ship for South America, never to return. + +Next day Luke came back, bringing with him a beautifully carved mahogany +box mounted in silver. Betsy met him at the door, and, woman-like, told +the story of Hoiden's departure almost at the first breath. + +"Gone all the way to South America," she added, after premising that she +would never return. + +A peculiarly grim, grayish smile mantled the face of Luke. He swallowed +a time or two before he could speak. + +"Come now, sis" (he always said "sis" when he felt somewhat at Betsy's +mercy), "come now, sis, don't try to fool me. I'm goin' right over to +see the gal now, an' I've got what'll tickle her awfully right here in +this 'ere box." + +Out in the yard the blue jays and woodpeckers were quarrelling over the +late apples heaped up by the cider mill. The sky was clear, but the +sunlight, coming through a smoky atmosphere, was pale, like the smile of +a sick man. The wind of autumn ran steadily through the shrubby weedy +lawn with a sigh that had in it the very essence of sadness. + +"I tell you, Luke, I'm not trying to fool you; they've gone clean to +South America to stay always," reiterated Betsy. + +Luke gazed for a moment steadily into his sister's eyes, as if looking +for a sign. Slowly his stalwart body and muscular limbs relaxed and +collapsed. The box fell to the floor with a crash, where it burst, +letting roll out great hoops of gold and starry rings and pins--a gold +watch and chain, a beautiful gold pen and pencil case, and trinkets and +gew-gaw things almost innumerable. They must have cost the full profits +of his business trip. + +Luke staggered into a chair. Betsy just then happened to think of the +letter that had been left for her brother. This she fetched and handed +to him. It was the note of business from Mr. Pearl. There was a +postscript in a different hand: + + "_Good-bye, Goosey!_ + _Hoidy Pearl._" + +That was all. Luke is more morose and petulant than he used to be. He is +decaying about apace with Rackenshack, and he smokes constantly. He is +vastly wealthy and unmarried. + +Betsy is quiet and kind. Up stairs in her chest is hidden the mahogany +coffer full of golden testimonials of her brother's days of happiness +and the one dark hour of his despair! + + + + +THE PEDAGOGUE. + + +He was one of the farmer princes of Hoosierdom, a man of more than +average education, a fluent talker and ready with a story. Knowing that +I was looking up reminiscences of Hoosier life and specimens of Hoosier +character, he volunteered one evening to give me the following, vouching +for the truth of it. Here it is, as I "short-handed" it from his own +lips. I omit quotation marks. + +The study of one's past life is not unlike the study of geology. If the +presence of the remains of extinct species of animals and vegetables in +the ancient rocks calls up in one's mind a host of speculative thoughts +touching the progress of creation, so, as we cut with the pick of +retrospection through the strata of bygone days, do the remains of +departed things, constantly turning up, put one into his studying cap to +puzzle over specimens fully as curious and interesting in their way as +the _cephalaspis_. + +The first stratum of my intellectual formation contains most +conspicuously the remains of dog-eared spelling books, a score or more +of them by different names, among which the _Elementary_ of Webster is +the best preserved and most clearly defined. It was finding an old, +yellow, badly thumbed and dirt soiled copy of Webster's spelling book in +the bottom of an old chest of odds and ends, on the fly-leaf of which +book was written "T. Blodgett," that lately brightened my memory of the +things I am about to tell you. + +The old time pedagogue is a thing of the past--_pars temporis acti_ is +the Latin of it, may be, but I'm not sure--I'm rusty in the Latin now. +When I quit school I could read it a good deal. But of the pedagogue. +The twenty years since he ceased to flourish seem, on reflection, like +an age--an _aeon_, as the Greeks would say. I never did know much Greek. +I got most of my education from pedagogues of the old sort. They kept +pouring it on to me till it soaked in. That's the way I got it. I have +had corns and bunions on my back for not being sufficiently porous to +absorb the multiplication table rapidly enough to suit the whim of one +of those learned tyrants. But the pedagogue became extinct and passed +into the fossil state some twenty years ago, when free schools took +good hold. He scampered away when he heard the whistle of the steam +engine along iron highways and the cry of small boys on the streets of +the towns hawking the daily papers. He could live nowhere within the +pale of innovation. He was born an exemplar of rigidity. The very name +of reform was hateful to him. We older fellows remember him well, but to +the younger fry he is not even a fossil, he is a myth. Of course +pedagogues differed slightly in the matter of particular disposition and +real character, but in a _general way_ they had a close family +resemblance. + +I purpose to write of one Blodgett--T. Blodgett, as it was written in +the fly-leaf of Webster's Elementary--and he was an extraordinary +specimen of the genus pedagogue. But before I introduce him, let me, by +way of preface and prelude, give you a view of the salients of the +history of the days when pole-ribbed school houses--log cabin school +houses--flourished, with each a pedagogue for supreme, "unquestioned and +unquestionable" despot. + +In those fine days boys from five to fifteen years of age wore tow linen +pants held up by suspenders (often made of tow strings), and having at +each side pockets that reached down to about the wearer's knees. These +pockets held as much as a moderate sized bushel basket will now. The +girls, big and little, wore mere tow linen slips, that hung loose from +the shoulders. Democracy, pure and undefiled, flourished like a green +buckeye tree. Society was in about the same condition as a boy is when +his voice is changing. You know when a boy's voice is changing if you +hear him in another room getting his lesson by saying it over aloud, you +think there's about fourteen girls, two old men, and a dog barking in +the room. Society was much the same. The elements of everything were in +it, but not developed and separated yet. Women rode behind their +husbands on the same horse, occasionally reaching round in the man's lap +to feel if the baby was properly fixed. Sometimes the girls rode to +singing school behind their sweethearts. At such times the horses always +kicked up, and, of course, the girls had to hold on. The boys liked the +holding on part. Young men went courting always on Saturday night. The +girls wouldn't suffer any hugging before eleven o'clock--unless the old +folk were remarkably early to bed. Candles were scarce in those days, so +that billing and cooing was done by very dim fire-light. _O, le bon +temps!_ I've forgot whether that's Latin or French. + +The pedagogue was the intellectual and moral centre of the neighborhood. +He was of higher authority, even in the law, than the Justice of the +Peace. He was consulted on all subjects, and, as a rule, his decisions +were final, and went upon the people's record as law. His jurisdiction +was unlimited, as to subject matter or amount, and, as to the person, +was unquestioned. Of course his territory was bounded by the +circumstances of each particular case. + +I just now recollect quite a number of pedagogues who in turn ruled me +in my youthful days. Of one of them I never think without feeling a +strange sadness steal over me. He was a young fellow whom to know was to +love; pale, delicate, tender-hearted. He taught us two terms and we all +thought him the best teacher in the world. He was so kind to us, so +gentle and mild-voiced, so prone to pat us on our heads and encourage +us. Some of the old people found fault with him because, as they +alleged, he did not whip us enough, but we saw no force in the +objection. Well, he took a cough and began to fail. He dismissed us one +fine May evening and we saw him no more alive. We all followed him, in a +solemn line, to his grave, and for a long time thereafter we never spoke +of him except in a low, sad whisper. As for me, till long afterwards, +the hushed wonder of his white face haunted my dreams. I have now in my +possession a little bead money-purse he gave me. + +Blodgett came next, and here my story properly begins. Blodgett--who, +having once seen him, could ever forget Blodgett? Not I. He was too +marked a man to ever wholly fade from memory. He was, as I have said, a +perfect type of his kind, and his kind was such as should not be sneered +at. He was one of the humble pioneers of American letters. He was a +character of which our national history must take account. He was one of +the vital forces of our earlier national growth. He was in love with +learning. He considered the matter of imparting knowledge a mere +question of effort, in which the physical element preponderated. If he +couldn't talk or read it into one he took a stick and mauled it into +him. This mauling method, though somewhat distasteful to the subject, +always had a charming result--red eyes, a few blubbers and a good +lesson. The technical name of this method was "_Warming the Jacket_." +It always seemed to me that the peewee birds sang very dolefully after I +had had my jacket warmed. I recollect my floggings at school with so +much aversion that I do think, if a teacher should whale one of my +little ruddy-faced boys, I'd spread his (the teacher's) nose over his +face as thin as a rabbit skin! I'd run both his eyes into one and chew +his ears off close to his head, sir! Forgive my earnestness, but I can't +stand flogging in schools. It's brutal. + +From the first day that Blodgett came circulating his school "articles" +among us, we took to him by common consent as a wonderfully learned man. +I think his strong, wise looking face, and reserved, pompous manners, +had much to do with making this impression. We believed in him fully, +and for a long time gave him unfaltering loyalty. As for me, I never +have wholly withdrawn my allegiance. I look back, even now, and admire +him. I sigh, thinking of the merry days when he flourished. I solemnly +avow my faith in progress. I know the world advances every day, still I +doubt if men and women are more worthy now than they were in the time of +the pedagogues. I don't know but what, after all, I am somewhat of a +fogy. Any how, I will not, for the sake of pleasing your literary +_swallows_--your eclectics of to-day--turn in and berate my dear old +Blodgett. In his day men could not and did not skim the surface of +things like swallows on a mill pond. They _dived_, and got what they did +get from the bottom, and by honest labor. Whenever one of your +silk-winged swallows skims past me and whispers progress, I cannot help +thinking of Heyne, Jean Paul and--Blodgett. Somehow genius and poverty +are great cronies. It used to be more so than it is now. Blodgett was a +genius, and, consequently, poor. He was virtuous, and, of course, happy. +He was a Democrat and a Hard Shell Baptist, and he might never have +swerved from the path of rectitude, even to the extent of a hair's +breadth, if it had not been for the coming of a not over scrupulous +rival into the neighboring village. But I must not hasten. A little more +and I would have blurted out the whole nub of my story. Bear with me. I +have nothing of the "lightning calculator" in me. I must take my time. + +It has been agreed that biography must include somewhat of physical +portraiture. "What sort of looking man was Blodgett?" I will tell you as +nearly as I can, but bear in mind it is a long time since I saw him, +and, in the meanwhile, the world has been so washed, and combed, and +trimmed, and pearl powdered, that one can scarcely be sure he recollects +things rightly. The seedy dandy who teaches the free schools of to-day, +is, no doubt, all right as things go; but then the way they go--that's +it! As for finding some one of these dapper, umbrella-lugging, +green-spectacled, cadaverous teachers to compare with our burly +Blodgett, the thing is preposterous. + +Our pedagogue, when he first came among us, was, as nearly as I can +judge, about forty, and a bachelor, tall, raw-boned, lean-faced, and +muscular--a man of many words, and big ones, but not over prone to seek +audience of the world. To me, a boy of twelve, he appeared somewhat +awful, especially when plying the beech rod for the benefit of a future +man, and I do still think that something harder than mere sternness +slept or woke in and around the lines of his strong, flat jaws--that +something sharper than acid shrewdness lurked in his light gray eyes, +and that surely a more powerful expression than ordinary brute obstinacy +lingered about his firm mouth and smoothly shaven chin. + +Blodgett had a mighty body and a mighty will, joined with a +self-appreciation only bounded by his power to generate it. This, added +to the deep deference with which he was approached by everybody, made +him not a little arrogant and despotic--though, doubtless, he was less +so than most men, under like circumstances, would have been. His years +sat lightly on him. His step was youthful though slouching, his raven +hair was bright and wavy, his skin had the tinge of vigorous health, and +in truth he was not far from handsome. His voice was nasal, but +pleasantly so. + +I cannot hope to give you more than a faint idea of the absolute power +vested in Blodgett by the men, women and children of the school +vicinage; suffice it to say that his view was a _sine qua non_ to every +neighborhood opinion, his words the basis of neighborhood action in all +matters of public interest. If he pronounced the parson's last sermon a +failure, at once the entire church agreed in condemning it, not only as +a failure but a consummate blunder. If he hinted that a certain new +comer impressed him unfavorably, the nincompoop was summarily kicked out +of society. In fact, in the pithy phraseology of these latter days, "it +was dangerous to be safe" about where he lived. + +Thus, for a long time, Blodgett ruled with an iron hand his little +world, with no one to dream of disputing his right or of doubting his +capacity, till at length fate let fall a bit of romance into the strong +but placid stream of his life, and tinged it all with rose color. He +wrote some poetry, but it is obsolete--that is, it is not now in +existence. While this streak of romance lasted he looked, for all the +world, like a gilt-edged mathematical problem drawn on rawhide. + +It was a great event in our neighborhood when Miss Grace Holland, a +yellow-haired, blue-eyed, very handsome and well educated young lady +from Louisville, Kentucky, came to spend the summer with Parson Holland, +our preacher, and the young woman's uncle. Kentucky girls are all sweet. +My wife was a Kentucky girl. All the young men fell in love with Miss +Holland right away, but it was of no use to them. Blodgett, in the +language of your fast youngsters, "shied his castor into the ring," and +what was there left for the others but to stand by and see the glory of +the pedagogue during the season of his wooing? It would have done your +eyes good to see the pedagogue "slick himself up" each Saturday evening +preparatory to visiting the parson's. He went into the details of the +toilette with an enthusiasm worthy a better result. Ordinarily he was +ostentatiously pious and grave, but now his nature began to slip its +bark and disclose an inner rind of real mirthfulness, which made him +quite pleasant company for Miss Holland, who, though a mere girl, was +sensible and old enough to enjoy the many marked peculiarities of the +pedagogue. + +On Blodgett's side it was love--just the blindest, craziest kind of +love, at first sight. As to Miss Holland, I cannot say. One never can +precisely say as to a woman; guessing at a woman's feelings, in matters +of love, is a little like wondering which makes the music, a boy's mouth +or the jewsharp--a doubtful affair. + +Great events never come singly. When it rains it pours. If you have seen +a bear, every stump is a bear. A few days after the advent of Miss +Holland came a pop-eyed, nervous, witty little fellow with a hand press, +and started a weekly paper in our village. A newspaper in town! It was +startling. + +Blodgett from the first seemed not to relish the innovation, but public +sentiment had set in too strongly in its favor for him to jeopardize his +reputation by any serious denunciations. A real live paper in our midst +was no small matter. Everybody subscribed, and so did Blodgett. + +It did, formerly, require a little brains to run a newspaper, and in +those days an editor was looked upon as nearly or quite as learned and +intelligent as a pedagogue; but everybody, however ignorant himself, +could not fail to see that one represented progress, the other +conservatism, and formerly most persons were Ultra-Conservatives. This, +of course, gave the pedagogue a considerable advantage. + +Of course Blodgett and the editor soon became acquainted. The latter, a +dapper Yankee, full of "get-up-and-snap," and alert to make way for his +paper, measured the pedagogue at a glance, seeing at once that a big +bulk of strong sense and a will like iron were enwrapped in the stalwart +Hoosier's brain. One of two things must be done. Blodgett must be +vanquished or his influence secured. He must be prevailed on to endorse +the _Star_ (the new paper), or the _Star_ must attack and destroy him at +once. + +Meantime the pedagogue grimly waited for an opportunity to demolish the +editor. The big Hoosier had no thought of compromise or currying favor. +He would sacrifice the little sleek, stuck-up, big-headed, pop-eyed, +Roman-nosed Yankee between his thumb nails as he would a flea. Blodgett +was a predestinarian of the old school, and was firmly imbedded in the +belief that from all eternity it had been fore-ordained that he was to +attend to just such fellows as the editor. + +Still, the little lady from Louisville took up so much of his time, and +so distracted his mind, that no well laid plan of attack could be +matured by the pedagogue. But when nations wish to fight it is easy to +find a pretext for war. So with individuals. So with the editor and +Blodgett. They soon came to open hostilities and raised the black flag. +What an uproar it did make in the county! + +This war seemed to come about quite naturally. It had its beginning in a +debating society, where Blodgett and the editor were leading +antagonists. The question debated was, "Which has done more for the +cause of human liberty, Napoleon or Wellington?" + +Two village men and two countrymen were the jury to decide which side +offered the best argument. The jury was out all night and finally +returned a split verdict, two of them standing for Blodgett and two for +the editor. Of course it was town against country--the villagers for the +editor, the country folk for the pedagogue. + +"Huzza for the little editor!" cried the town people. + +"'Rah for Blodgett!" bawled the lusty country folk. + +The matter quickly came to blows at certain parts of the room. Jim +Dowder caught Phil Gates by the hair and snatched him over two seats. +Sarah Jane Beaver hit Martha Ann Randall in the mouth with a reticule +full of hazel nuts. Farmer Heath choked store-keeper Jones till his face +was as blue as moderate-like indigo. Old Mrs. Baber pulled off Granny +Logan's wig and threw it at 'Squire Hank. But Pete Develin wound the +thing up with a most disgraceful feat. He seized a bucket half full of +water and deliberately poured it right on top of the editor's head. + +This was the beginning of trouble and fun. Some lawsuits grew out of it +and some hard fisticuffs. All the country-folk sided with Blodgett--the +towns-folk with the editor. The _Star_ began to get dim, but the editor, +shrewd dog, when he saw how things were turning, at once took up the +question of Napoleon _vs._ Wellington in his journal, kindly and +condescendingly offering his columns to Blodgett for the discussion. + +The pedagogue foolishly accepted the challenge, and thus laid the +stones upon which he was to fall. So the antagonists sharpened their +goose quills and went at it. In sporting circles the proverb runs: never +bet on a man's own trick. Blodgett ought to have known better than to go +to the editor's own ground to fight. + +I have always suspected that Miss Holland did much to shear our Samson +of his strength. She certainly did, wittingly or unwittingly, occupy too +much of his time and thought. Poor fellow! he would have given his life +for her. He often looked at her, with his head turned a little one side, +sadly, thoughtfully, as I have seen a terrier look at a rat hole, as +though he half expected disappointment. + +The battle in the _Star_ began in very earnest. It was a harvest for the +shrewd journalist. Everybody took the _Star_ while the discussion was +going on. Everybody took sides, everybody got mad, and almost everybody +fought more or less. Even Parson Holland and the village preacher had +high words and ceased to recognize each other. As for the young lady +from Louisville, she had little to say about the discussion, though +Blodgett always read to her each one of his articles first in MS. and +then in the _Star_ after it was printed. + +Well, finally, in the very height of the war of words, the editor, in +one of his articles, indulged in Latin. As you are aware, when an editor +gets right down to pan-rock Latin, it's a sure sign he's after somebody. +This instance was no exception to the general rule. He was baiting for +the pedagogue. The pedagogue swallowed hook and all. + +"_Nil de mortuis nisi bonum_," said the editor, "is my motto, which may +be freely translated: 'If you can't say something good of the dead, keep +your tarnal mouth shut about them!'" + +Blodgett started as he read this, and for a full minute thereafter gazed +steadily and inquiringly on vacancy. At length his great bony right hand +opened slowly, then quickly shut like a vice. + +"I have him! I have him!" he muttered in a murderous tone, "I'll crush +him to impalpable dust!" He forthwith went for a small Latin lexicon and +began busily searching its pages. It was Saturday evening, and so busily +did he labor at what was on his mind, he came near forgetting his +regular weekly visit to Miss Holland. + +He did not forget it, however. He went; without pointing out to her the +exact spot so vulnerable to his logical arrows, he told her in a +confidential and confident way that his next letter would certainly make +an end of the editor. He told her that, at last, he had the shallow +puppy where he could expose him thoroughly. Of course Miss Holland was +curious to know more, but, with a grim smile, Blodgett shook his head, +saying that to insure utter victory he must keep his own counsel. + +The next day, though the Sabbath, was spent by the pedagogue writing his +crusher for the _Star_. He wrote it and re-wrote it, over and over +again. He almost ruined a Latin grammar and the afore-mentioned lexicon. +He worked till far in the night, revising and elaborating. His gray eyes +burned like live coals--his jaws were set for victory. + +That week was one of intense excitement all over the county, for somehow +it had come generally to be understood that the pedagogue's forthcoming +essay was to completely defeat and disgrace the editor. Work, for the +time, was mostly suspended. The school children did about as they +pleased, so that they were careful not to break rudely in upon +Blodgett's meditations. + +On the day of its issue the _Star_ was in great demand. For several +hours the office was crowded with eager subscribers, hungry for a copy. +The 'Squire and two constables had some trouble to keep down a genuine +riot. + +The following is an exact copy of Blodgett's great essay: + + MR. EDITOR--SIR: This, for two reasons, is my last article for + your journal. Firstly: My time and the exigencies of my + profession will not permit me to further pursue a discussion + which, on your part, has degenerated into the merest twaddle. + Secondly: It only needs, at my hands, an exposition of the + false and fraudulent claims you make to classical attainments, + to entirely annihilate your unsubstantial and wholly undeserved + popularity in this community, and to send you back to peddling + your bass wood hams and maple nutmegs. In order to put on a + false show of erudition, you lug into your last article a + familiar Latin sentence. Now, sir, if you had sensibly foregone + any attempt at translation, you might, possibly, have made some + one think you knew a shade more than a horse; but "whom the + gods would destroy they first make mad." + + You say, "_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_" may be freely + translated, "If you can't say something good of the dead, keep + your tarnal mouth shut about them!" Shades of Horace and + Praxiteles! What would Pindar or Caesar say? But I will not + jest at the expense of sound scholarship. In conclusion, I + simply submit the following _literal translation_ of the Latin + sentence in question: "_De_--of, _mortuis_--the dead, + _nil_--nothing, _nisi_--but, _bonum_--goods," so that the whole + quotation may be rendered as follows--"Nothing (is left) of the + dead but (their) goods." This is strictly according to the + dictionary. Here, so far as I am concerned, this discussion + ends. + + Your ob't serv't, + T. BLODGETT. + +The country flared into flames of triumph. Blodgett's friends stormed +the village and "_bully-ragged_" everybody who had stood out for the +editor. The little Yankee, however, did not appear in the least +disconcerted. His clear, blue, pop-eyes really seemed twinkling with +half suppressed joy. Blodgett put a copy of the _Star_ into his pocket +and stalked proudly, victoriously, out of town. + +After supper he dressed himself with scrupulous care and went over to +see Miss Holland. Rumor said they were engaged to be married, and I +believe they were. + +On this particular evening the young lady was enchantingly pretty, +dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, her bright yellow hair flowing +full and free down upon her plump shoulders, her face radiant with +health and high spirits. She met the pedagogue at the door with more +than usual warmth of welcome. He kissed her hand. All that he said to +her that evening will never be known. It is recorded, however, that, +when he had finished reading his essay to her, she got up and took from +her travelling trunk a "Book of Foreign Phrases," and examined it +attentively for a time, after which she was somewhat uneasy and +reticent. Blodgett observed this, but he was too dignified to ask an +explanation. + +The "last day" of Blodgett's school was at hand. The "exhibition" came +off on Saturday. Everybody went early. The pedagogue was in his glory. +He did not know the end was so near. A little occurrence, toward +evening, however, seemed to foreshadow it. + +Blodgett called upon the stage a bright eyed, ruddy faced lad, his +favorite pupil, to translate Latin phrases. The boy, in his Sunday best, +and sleekly combed, came forth and bowed to the audience, his eyes +luminous with vivacity. The little fellow was evidently precocious--a +rapid if not a very accurate thinker--one of those children who always +have an answer ready, right or wrong. + +After several preliminary questions, very promptly and satisfactorily +disposed of, Blodgett said: + +"Now, sir, translate _Monstrum horrendum informe ingens_." + +Quick as lightning the child replied: + +"The horrid monster informed the Indians!" + +Fury! The face of the pedagogue grew livid. He stretched forth his hand +and took the boy by the back of the neck. The curtain fell, but the +audience could not help hearing what a flogging the boy got. It was +terrible. + +Even while this was going on a rumor rippled round the outskirts of the +audience--for you must know that the "exhibition" was held under a bush +arbor erected in front of the school house door--a rumor, I say, rippled +round the outer fringe of the audience. Some one had arrived from the +village and copies of the _Star_ were being freely distributed. Looks of +blank amazement flashed into people's faces. The name of the editor and +that of Prof. W----, of Wabash College, began to fly in sharp whispers +from mouth to mouth. The crowd reeled and swayed. Men began to talk +aloud. Finally everybody got on his feet and confusion and hubbub +reigned supreme. The exhibition was broken up. Blodgett came out of the +school house upon the stage when he heard the noise. He gazed around. +Some one thrust a copy of the _Star_ into his hand. + +Poor Blodgett! We may all fall. The crowd resolved itself into an +indignation meeting then and there, at which the following extract from +the _Star_ was read, followed by resolutions dismissing and disgracing +Blodgett: + + "The following letter is rich reading for those who have so + long sworn by T. Blodgett. We offer no comment: + + "EDITOR OF THE STAR--DEAR SIR: In answer to your letter + requesting me to decide between yourself and Mr. Blodgett as to + the correct English rendering of the Latin sentence '_De + mortuis nil nisi bonum_,' allow me to say that your free + translation is a good one, if not very literal or elegant. As + to Mr. Blodgett's, if the man is sincere, he is certainly crazy + or wofully illiterate; no doubt the latter. + + "Very respectfully, + "W----, + "_Prof. Languages, Wabash College._" + +Blodgett walked away from the school house into the dusky June woods. He +knew that it was useless to contend against the dictum of a college +professor. His friends knew so too, so they turned to rend him. He was +dethroned and discrowned forever. He was boarding at my father's then, +and I can never forget the haggard, wistful look his face wore when he +came in that evening. I have since learned that he went straight from +the scene of his disgrace to Miss Holland, whom he found inclined to +laugh at him. The next week he collected what was due him and left for +parts unknown. + +I was over at parson Holland's, playing with his boys. + +The game was mumble peg. + +I had been rooting a peg out of the ground and my face was very dirty. +We were under a cherry tree by a private hedge. Presently Miss Holland +came out and began, girl-like, to pluck and eat the half ripe cherries. +The wind rustled her white dress and lifted the gold floss of her +wonderful hair. The birds chattered and sang all round us; the white +clouds lingered overhead like puffs of steam vanishing against the +splendid blue of the sky. The fragrance of leaf and fruit and bloom was +heavy on the air. The girl in white, the quiet glory of the day, the +murmur of the unsteady wind stream flowing among the dark leaves of the +orchard and hedge, the charm of the temperature, and over all, the +delicious sound of running water from the brook hard by, all +harmonized, and in a tender childish mood I quit the game and lolled at +full length on the ground, watching the fascinating face of the young +lady as she drifted about the pleasant places of the orchard. Suddenly I +saw her fix her eyes in a surprised way in a certain direction. I looked +to see what had startled her, and there, half leaning over the hedge, +stood Blodgett. + +His face was ghastly in its pallor, and deep furrows ran down his jaws. +His gray eyes had in them a look of longing blended with a sort of stern +despair. It was only for a moment that his powerful frame toppled above +the hedge, but he is indelibly pictured in my memory just as he then +appeared. + +"Good-bye, Miss Holland, good-bye." + +How dismally hollow his voice sounded! Ah! it was pitiful. I neither saw +nor heard of him after that. Years have passed since then. Blodgett is, +likely, in his grave, but I never think of him without a sigh. + +Yesterday I was in the old neighborhood, and, to my surprise, learned +that the old log school house was still standing. So I set out alone to +visit it. I found it rotten and shaky, serving as a sort of barn in +which a farmer stows his oats, straw and corn fodder. The genius of +learning has long since flown to finer quarters. The great old chimney +had been torn down or had fallen, the broad boards of the roof, held on +by weight poles, were deeply covered with moss and mould, and over the +whole edifice hung a gloom--a mist of decay. + +I leaned upon a worm fence hard by and gazed through the long vacant +side window, underneath which our writing shelf used to be, sorrowfully +dallying with memory; not altogether sorrowfully either, for the glad +faces of children that used to romp with me on the old play ground +floated across my memory, clothed in the charming haze of distance, and +encircled by the halo of tender affections. The wind sang as of old, and +the bird songs had not changed a jot. Slowly my whole being crept back +to the past. The wonders of our progress were all forgotten. And then +from within the old school room came a well remembered voice, with a +certain nasal twang, repeating slowly and sternly the words: + +"_Arma virumque cano_;" then there came a chime of silver tones--"School +is out!--School is out!" And I started, to find that I was all alone by +the rotting but blessed old throne and palace of the pedagogue. + + + + +AN IDYL OF THE ROD. + + +It was as pretty a country cottage as is to be found, even now, in all +the Wabash Valley, situated on a prominent bluff, overlooking the broad +stretches of bottom land, and giving a fine view of the wide winding +river. The windows and doors of this cottage were draped in vines, among +which the morning glory and the honeysuckle were the most luxuriant; +while on each side of the gravelled walk, that led from the front +portico to the dooryard gate, grew clusters of pinks, sweet-williams and +larkspurs. The house was painted white, and had green window +shutters--old fashioned, to be sure, but cosy, homelike and tasty +withal. Everything pertaining to and surrounding the place had an air of +methodical neatness, that betokened great care and scrupulous order on +the part of the inmates. + +About the hour of six on a Monday morning, in the month of May, a fine, +hearty, intelligent looking lad of twelve years walked slowly up the +path which led from the old orchard to the house. He was dressed in +loose trowsers of bottle green jeans, a jacket of the same, heavy boots +and a well worn wool hat. The boy's shoulders stooped a little, and a +slight hump discovered itself at the upper portion of his back. His face +was strikingly handsome, being fair, bright, healthful, and marked with +signs of great precocity of intellect, albeit it wore just now an +indescribable, faintly visible shade, as of innocent perplexity, or, +possibly, grief. His mind was evidently not at ease, but the varying +shadows that chased each other across the mild depths of his clear, +vivacious eyes would have stumped a physiognomist. Between a laugh and a +cry, but more like a cry; between defiance and utter shame, but more +like the latter; his cheeks and lips took on every shade of pallor and +of flush. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved along, and cast rapid +glances in every direction, as if afraid of being seen. "Whippoo-tee, +tippoo-tee-tee-e!" sang a great cardinal red bird in the apple tree over +his head. He flung a stone at the bird with terrible energy, but missed +it. + +The mistress of the cottage was at this time in the kitchen preparing +for the week's washing, for do not all good Hoosier housewives wash on +Monday? She was a middle aged, stoutly built, healthy matron, sandy +haired, slightly freckled, blue eyed and quick in her movements. Usually +smiling and happy, it was painful to see how she struggled now to master +the emotions of great grief and sadness that constantly arose in her +bosom, like spectres that would not be driven away. + +A bright eyed, golden haired lass of sixteen was in the breakfast room +washing the dishes and singing occasional snatches from a mournful +ditty. It was sad, indeed, to see a cloud of sorrow on a face so fresh +and sweet. + +Mr. Coulter, the head of the family, and owner of the cottage and its +lands, stood near the centre of the sitting room with his hands crossed +behind him, gazing fixedly and sadly on the picture of a sweet child +holding a white kitten in its lap, which picture hung on the wall over +against the broad fire-place. A look of sorrow betrayed itself even in +the dark, stern visage of the man. He drew down his shaggy eyebrows and +occasionally pulled his grizzled moustache into his mouth and chewed it +fiercely. Evidently he was chafing under his grief. + +The cottage windows were wide open, as is the western custom in fine +weather, and the fragrance of spice wood and sassafras floated in on the +flood tide of pleasant air, while from the big old locust tree down by +the fence fell the twittering prelude to a finch's song. A green line of +willows and a thin, pendulous stratum of fog marked the way of the +river, plainly visible from the west window, and through the white haze +flocks of teal and wood ducks cut swiftly in their downward flight to +the water. A golden flicker sang and hammered on the gate-post the while +he eyed a sparrow-hawk that wheeled and screamed high over head. The dew +was like little mirrors in the grass. + +The lad entered the kitchen and said to his mother, in a voice full of +tenderness, though barely audible: + +"Mammy, where's pap?" + +"In the front room, Billy," replied the matron solemnly, quaveringly. + +Passing into the breakfast room, Billy looked at his sister and a flash +of sympathetic sorrow played back and forth from the eyes of one to +those of the other; then he went straight into the sitting room and +handed something to Mr. Coulter. It was a moment of silence and +suspense. Out in the orchard the cherry and apple blooms were falling +like pink and white snow. + +The man looked down at his boy sadly, sorrowfully, regretfully. He drew +his face into a stern frown. The lad looked up into his father's eyes +timidly, ruefully, strangely. It was a living tableau no artist could +reproduce. It was the moment before a crisis. + +"Billy," said the father gravely, "I took your mother and sister to +church yesterday." + +"Yes, sir," said Billy. + +"And left you to see to things," continued the man. + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy, gazing through the window at the flicker as +it hitched down the gate-post and finally dropped into the grass with a +shrill chirp. + +"And you didn't water them pigs!" + +"O-o-o! Oh, sir! Geeroody! O me! ouch! lawsy! lawsy! mercy me!" + +The slender scion of an apple tree, in the hand of Mr. Coulter, rose and +fell, cutting the air like a rapier, and up from the jacket of the lad, +like incense from an altar, rose a cloud of dust mingled with the nap of +jeans. Down in the young clover of the meadow the larks and sparrows +sang cheerily; the gnats and flies danced up and down in the sunshine, +the fresh soft young leaves of the vines rustled like satin, and all +was merry indeed! + +Billy's eyes were turned upward to the face of his father in appealing +agony; but still the switch, with a sharp hiss, cut the air, falling +steadily and mercilessly on his shoulders. + +All along the green banks of the river the willows shook their shining +fingers at the lifting fog, and the voices of children going by to the +distant school smote the sweet May wind. + +"Whippee! Whippee-tippee-tee!" sang the cardinal bird. + +"O pap! ouch! O-o-o! I'll not forget to water the pigs no more!" + +"S'pect you won't, neither!" said the man. + +The wind, by a sudden puff, lifted into the room a shower of white bloom +petals from a sweet apple tree, letting them fall gracefully upon the +patchwork carpet, the while a ploughman whistled plaintively in a +distant field. + +"Crackee! O pap! ouch! O-o-o! You're a killin' me!" + +"Shet your mouth 'r I'll split ye to the backbone in a second! Show ye +how to run off fishin' with Ed Jones and neglect them pigs! Take every +striffin of hide off'n ye!" + +How many delightful places in the woods, how many cool spots beside the +murmuring river, would have been more pleasant to Billy than the place +he just then occupied! He would have swapped hides with the very pigs he +had forgot to water. + +"O, land! O, me! Geeroody me!" yelled the lad. + +"Them poor pigs!" rejoined the father. + +Still the dust rose and danced in the level jet of sunlight that fell +athwart the room from the east window, and the hens out at the barn +cackled and sang for joy over new laid eggs stowed away in cosy places. + +At one time during the falling of the rod the girl quit washing the +dishes, and thrusting her head into the kitchen said, in a subdued tone: + +"My land! Mammy, ain't Bill a gittin' an awful one this load o' poles?" + +"You're moughty right!" responded the matron, solemnly. + +Along toward the last Mr. Coulter tip-toed at every stroke. The switch +actually screamed through the air. Billy danced and bawled and made all +manner of serio-comic faces and contortions. + +"Now go, sir," cried the man, finally tossing the frizzled stump of the +switch out through the window. "Go now, and next time I'll be bound you +water them pigs!" + +And, while the finch poured a cataract of melody from the locust tree, +Billy went. + +Poor boy! that was a terrible thrashing, and to make it worse, it had +been promised to him on the evening before, so that he had been dreading +it and shivering over it all night! + +Now, as he walked through the breakfast room, his sister looked at him +in a commiserating way, but on passing through the kitchen he could not +catch the eye of his mother. + +Finally he stood in the free open air in front of the saddle closet. It +was just then that a speckled rooster on the barn yard fence flapped his +wings and crowed lustily. A turkey cock was strutting on the grass by +the old cherry tree. + +Billy opened the door of the closet. "A boy's will is the wind's will, +and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Billy peeped into +the saddle closet and then cast a glance around him, as if to see if any +one was near. + +At length, during a pleasant lull in the morning wind, and while the +low, tenderly mellow flowing of the river was distinctly audible, and +the song of the finch increased in volume, and the bleating of new born +lambs in the meadow died in fluttering echoes under the barn, and while +the fragrance of apple blooms grew fainter, and while the sun, now +flaming just a little above the eastern horizon, launched a shower of +yellow splendors over him from head to foot, he took from under his +jacket behind a doubled sheep skin with the wool on, which, with an +ineffable smile, he tossed into the closet. Then, as the yellow flicker +rose rapidly from the grass, Billy walked off, whistling the air of that +once popular ballad-- + + "O give me back my fifteen cents, + And give me back my money," &c. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + + Passages in italics or underlined are indicated by _italics_. + + Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from + the original. + + Punctuation has been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Mosaics, by Maurice Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER MOSAICS *** + +***** This file should be named 36148.txt or 36148.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/4/36148/ + +Produced by David Edwards, David E. 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