CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF College of Regional Histo-ry-. i 1 Cornell University Library PS 1311.A1 1873 The ailded age :a tale of, to-day /by Mar 3 1924 022 010 148 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022010148 m^'^Xr'llf' COLONEL SELLEES FKEDING HIS FAMILY ON EXPECTATIONS. THE a'TLDED AGE A TALE OF TO-DAY BY MARK TWAIN (Sa.MTjEL L.^LEMENS) Author of "Inmocents AimrmD,'* "Koughixg It," bto. AND CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER Author of *' Mt Summkk in a Gaedew," " Back. Log Studies," etc. FULLY illustrated FROM NEW DESIGNS BY HOPPIN, STEPHENS, "WILLIAMS, WHITE, ETC., ETC. SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY. H aktford: AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1874. f S ur Entbiibd according to Act of Congress, in tlie yeaJ 1873,^ SAMUEL L. CLEMENS, & CHARLES D. WARNEK, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington TTM. B. LOCKWOOD, ELECTBOTTPEE, nAKTFOED, CONN. PI U l^ 1] m Wi # >fe ^' i'% PREFACE. This book wSs not ■written for private circulation among friends ; it was not written to cheer and instruct a diseased relative of the author's ; it was not thrown off during inter- vals of wearing labor to amuse an idle hour. It was not written for any of these reasons, and therefore it is submitted without the usual apologies. It will be seen that it deals with an entirely idsal-etate of society ; and the chief embarrassment of the writers in this realm of the imagination has been the want of illustrative examples. In a State where there is no fever of speculation, no inflamed desire for sudden wealth, where the poor are all simple-minded and contented, and the rich are all honest and generous, where society is in a condition of primitive purity and politics is the occupation of only the capable and the patriotic, there are necessarily no materials for such a history as we have constructed out of an ideal commonwealth. No apology is needed for following the learned custom of placing attractive scraps of literature at the heads of our chapters. It has been truly observed by Wagner that such headings, with their vague suggestions of the matter which is to follow them, pleasantly inflame the reader's interest without wholly satisfying his curiosity, and we will hope that it may be found to be so in the present case. Our quotations are set in a vast number of tongues; this is done for the reason that very few foreign nations among whom the book will circulate can read in any language but their own ; whereas we do not write for a particular class or sect or nation, but to take in the whole world. We do not object to criticism ; and we do not expect that vi Pebface. the critic will read the book before writing a notice of it. We do not even expect the reviewer of the book will say that he has not read it. No, we have no anticipations of anything unusual in this age of criticism. But if the Jupiter, who passes his opinion on the novel, ever happens to peruse it in some weary moment of his subsequent life, we hope that he will' not be the victim of a remorse bitter but too late. One word more. This is — what it pretends to be — a joint production, in the conception of the story, the exposition of the characters, and in its literal composition. There is scarcely a chapter that does not bear the marks of the two writers of the book. s. l. c. C. D. W. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAOE Squire Hawkins and Hia Tennessee Land — He Decides to Remove to Missouri 17 CHAPTER n. He Meets With and Adopts the Boy Clay 31 CHAPTER III. Uncle Daniel's Apparition and Prayer 36 CHAPTER IV. The Steamboat Explosion. 41 CHAPTER T. Adoption of the Little Girl Laura — ^Arrival at Missouri — Reception by Colo- nel Beriah Sellers 63 CHAPTER VI. Trouble and Darkness in the Hawkins Family — Proposed Sale of the Ten- nessee Land '. 62 CHAPTER VIL Colonel Sellers at Home — His Wonderful Clock and Cure for Rheumatism. . 15 CHAPTER Vin. Colonel Sellers Makes Known His Magnificent Speculation Schemes and Astonishes Washington Hawkins 83 CHAPTER IX. Death of Judge Hawkins 98 CHAPTER X. Laura Hawkins Discorers a Mystery in Her Parentage and Grows Morbid Under the Village Gossip 100 viii Contents. CHAPTER XI. A Dinner with Col. Sellers— Wonderful Effects of Raw Turnips 1C8 CHAPTER XII. Philip Sterling and Henry Brierly — Arrangements to Go West as Engineers 114 CHAPTER XIH. » Rail-Road Contractors and Party Traveling — Philip and Harry ;,form the Acquaintance of Col. Sellers 122 CHAPTER XIV. J Ruth Bolton and Her Parents / 132 CHAPTER XV. Visitors of the Boltons — Mr. Bigler " Sees the Legislature " — Ruth Bolton Commences Medical Studies 139 CHAPTER XVI. The Engineers Detained at St. Louis — Off for Camp — Reception by Jeff Thompson 14ti ' CHAPTER XVIi; The Engineer Corps Arrive at Stone's Landing IB'J CHAPTER XVin. Laura and Her Marriage to Colonel Selby — Deserted and Returns to Hawkeye 16S CHAPTER XIX. Harry Brierly Infatuated With Laura and Proposes She Visit Washington. . 177 CHAPTER XX. Senator Abner Dilworthy Visits Hawkeye — Addresses the People and Makes the Acquaintance of Laura , 186 CHAPTER XXL Ruth Bolton at Fallkill Seminary — The Montagues-^Ruth Becomes Quite Gay — Alice Montague. 194 CHAPTER XXn. Philip and Harry Visit Fallkill — Harry Does the Agreeable to Ruth 202 CHAPTER XXm. Harry at Washington Lobbying For An Appropriation For Stone's Landing — Philip in New York Studying Engineering 213 CHAPTER XXIV. Washington and Its Sights — The Appropriation Bill Reported From the Committee and Passed , 217 • CHAPTER XXV. Energetic Movements at Stone's Landing — Everything Booming — A Grand Smash Up 22S • Contents. ix CHAPTER XXVI. The Boltons— Ruth at Home— Visitors and Speculations 235 CHAPTER XXVII. Col. Sellers Comforts His Wife With His Views of the Prospects 244 • CHAPTER XXVIII. Visit to Headquarters in Wall Street — How Appropriations Are Obtained / ^ and Their Cost 260 • CHAPTER XXIX. Philip's Experience With the Rail-Road Conductor — Surveys His Mining I'roperty 269 CHAPTER XXX. Laura and Col. Sellers Go To Washington On Invitation of Senator Dilworthy 274 \ ■ CHAPTER XXXI. Philip and Harry at the Boltons' — Philip Seriously Injured — Ruth's First Case of Surgery 278 CHAPTER XXXII. . Laura Becomes a Famous Belle at Washington 288 ^ CHAPTER XXXm. (/ Society in Washington — The Antiques, the Parvenus, and the Middle Aris- tocracy 295 I • CHAPTER XXXIV. Grand Scheme For Disposing of the Tennessee Land — Laura and Washing- ton Hawkins Enjoying the Reputation of Being Millionaires 314 CHAPTER XXXV. • i/ About Senators — Their, Privileges and Habits 320 CHAPTER XXXVI. iX An Hour in a Book Store 329 \ ^ CHAPTER XXXVII. "' Representative Buckstone and Laura's Strategic Coquetry 335 CHAPTER XXXVIII. Reception Day in Washington — Laura Again Meets Col, Selby and the Effect Upon Her 340 j CHAPTER XXXIX. ' Coi; Selby Visits Laura and Effects a Reconciliation ^ 349 CHAPTER XL. Col. Sellers' Career in Washington — Laura's Intimacy With Col. Selby is ^^ Talked About 355 X Contents. CHAPTER XLI. Harry Brierly Becomes Entirely Infatuated With Laura — Declares His Love and Gets Laughed At 362 CHAPTER XLII. How The Hon. Mr. Trollop Was Induced to Vote For Laura's Bill 372 ' CHAPTER XLIII. Progress of the Bill in the House 390 CHAPTER XLIV. Philip in Washington — Visits Laura 396 "^ CHAPTER XLV. The Passage of the Bill in the House of Representatives 404 CHAPTER XLVL Disappearance of Lau(a, and Murder of Col. Selby in New York 416 CHAPTER XLVH. Laura in the Tombs and Her Visitors 426 CHAPTER XLVin. Mr. Bolton Says Yes Again — Philip Returns to the Mines 434 CHAPTER XLIX. " The Coal Vein Found and Lost Again — Philip and the Boltons — Elated and Then Cruelly Disappointed 443 CHAPTER L. Philip Visits Fallkill and Proposes Studying Law With Mr. Montague — The 'Squire Invests in the Mine — Ruth Declares Her Love for Philip 453 CHAPTER LL Col. Sellers Enlightens Washington Hawkins on the Customs of Congress. . 466 CHAPTER LIL How Senator Dilworthy Advanced Washington's Interests 473 CHAPTER Lin. I/' Senator Dilworthy Goes West to See About His Re-election — He Becomes a Shining Light 476 CHAPTER LIV. The Trial of Laura for Murder 484 CHAPTER LV. The Trial Continued— Evidence of Harry Brierly 494 Contents. xi CHAPTER LVI. ' The Trial Continued — Col. Sellers on the Stand and Takes Advantage of the Situation .' 503 CHAPTER LVir. The Momentous Day — Startling News — Dilworthy Denounced as a Briber and Defeated— The Bill Lost in the Senate BIS CHAPTER LVm. ' Verdict, Not Guilty ! — Laura Free and Receives Propositions to Lecture — Philip back at the Mines 521 CHAPTER LIX. The Investigation of the Dilworthy Bribery Case and Its Results 530 CHAPTER LX. Laura Decides on her Course — Attempts to Lecture and Vails — Found Dead in her Chair ; . . . 543 CHAPTER LXL Col. Sellers and Washington Hawkins Review the Situation and Leave Washington 552 CHAPTER LXII. Philip Discouraged — One More Effort — Finds Coal at Last 560 CHAPTER LXia Philip Leaves Hium to see Ruth — Ruth Convalescent — ^Alice 567 APPENDIX 6T8 PAGF Col. Sellers rEHniiTG His Family on Expectatioits Fboxtispiece.,.. — CONTEaiPLATIOX 1"^ Th« Sqitiee's House 18 The U.S. Mail W Obedstowm" Males '• 20 Htteeting ^ 22 The Squibe 'b Kitchen ". 23 " For Goodness Sake, Si." 24 The Last Cog Wheel 28 Gone Up 29 Tailpiece SO T [i E Okphan's Last Gift S3 Mrs. Hawkins and Clat at the Grave of His Mother. (Full Page,) Face Page 34 " Children, Dah's Stjmfin' a Comin'." S6 "Hear lis. Lord, Hkah I is !" 38 Tailpiece 40 Not Encouraged 43 She's Gaining 45 " By the Mark Twain !*• 4T Fast Together, (Full Page,) Facel^ge 49 One of the Victims 51 The Procession— Forward March ! 58 The Happy Wife 59 Laura 63 Ready to Sell 65 Stock Kising 68 A Family Council 72 Tail Piece 74 Attempted Corner in Specie 77 A Brilliant Idea 81 Big Things shown up 85 Col. Sellers Blowing Bubbles for Washington 89 Gen. Boswell's Office 91 Illusteations. xiii 33, Tail Piecb ; 92 34, Consolation ' jg 85. The Dying Father ', 98 SG. Tail Piece , 99 ff7. Laura Seeking for Evidences op Her Birth, (Full PagS,) Face Page. 101 S8. Ever True IO5 39. A Healthy Meal 110 40. Philip at the Theatre 115 41. What Philip Learned at College 117 43. The Delegate's Interesting Ga:ue 124 43. The Person of Import anoe 128 44. " Not That." 131 45. Kuth'b Mother Makes Enquiries 134 46. The Letter 138 47. Caring FOR the Poor 142 48. Anatomical Investigations - 145 49. EuTH Looking at the " New One " by Candle Light, (Full Pa^e,) Face Page 147 60."Onlt fob You, Briekly." , 151 SI. An Acclimated Man ^ 154 51. No Thanks ! Good Bye ! 155 62. " Bress You, Chile, You Dar Now." Face Page 156 53. Camp Life, Face Page 156 54. Straight From the Shoulder 157 55. Jeff Thompson as a Nightingale 158 66. Bound fob Stone's Landing ■. 161 57. Stone's Landing, (Pull Page,) Ihce Page 162 58. Waiting FOE A Railroad 163 69. " It Ain't There." 165 60. Tail Piece 167 61. Capture op Washington "171 63. Laura Swooned, (Full Page.) Face Page ITS 62. Tailpiece 176 64. Not Easily Bepbbbed 179 65. Okdee, Gentlemen 188 66. The Senator's Walk 192 67. Eesidence of 'Squire Montague 196 68. Inside the Mansion - 1^ 69. Ruth Dissipating '^ 70. Tailpiece ■ 2^1 71. Anticipation '^ 73. Reality - ^^ 73. Philip Hears Harry Entertaining Ruth - 207 74. An Entertaining Fellow ^ 75. Harry Explains Before Senate Committee 214 76. Philip Studying 215 77. " Keep Out of Here, Sir ! '' 78. An Old One 79. A Promenade Outfit , , 215 , 218 , 319 . Reared btaGbateful Country 221 xiv Illusteations. Si. Benefit op Political Ikpluenok , , 224 82. Tail Piece ,., 22? 83. Visions op a Happy Man 22d 84 Exodus of the Natives 231 85 Habby Brieelt Flies From the Mob, (Fvll FAeE,i liice Page 233 86. Enjoying- the Bonfire .234 C7 Brotheb Plum 240 88. KuTH AT Home. (Fttll Page,) Face Page 241 89. Map OF THE Salt Lick: Bbanch OF THE Pacific R.B. JF^iceBige 246 90. Kesitlt OP A Straight Line 348 91. At Headqttartehs 251 92. Touching A Weae: Spot 253 93 Chaibmaw OF Committee, $10,000 254 94. Male Lobbyist, $3,000 255 9p^ Female Lobbyist, $3,000 255 96, High Moral Senator, $3,000 255 97. Country :Membee,$500 256 98 Documentary Proof ■. 259 99 Colonel Sellers Despondent 262 lOO Tailpiece 263 101, The Monarch op All He Surveys 265 102 Philip Thrust From the R. K. Cab. (Full Page,) Face Page 266 103 The Justice 268 104 "Mine Inn." 269 1(B. A Pleasing Landlord !. 271 106. Philip HiHed Three Woodsmen ^ 107 Tailpiece 273 108 Tailpiece 277 109. Bed . Balaam , 279 llOf The Fire Panic ■. 286 111. Ruth Assists in Dressing Philip's Arm. (Full Page,) I\xce Page 287 112. The First Reobption , 291 .113. Vanity Collapsed. Tail Piece 294 114. The Attaches of the Antiques 297 115 Hon. Oliver Higgins ". 301 116. Pat. O'Riley and the *' Ould Woman." 303 117. Hon. p. Oreille and Lady 304 118. An Unmistakable Potato Mouth 306 119. The Three Patients 310 120. Tail Piece 313 121. Deliberate Persecution , 317 122. " It is ONLY ME " > 321 123. " All Congressmen do that " 324 124. A Trick Worth Knowing 326 125. Col. Sellers Enlightening The Bohemians 327 126. Laura in the Book Store. (Full Page,) FUce Page 329 127. Very Agreeable 333 138. Playing .'o Win 337 Illustrations. xv 129. She Said •■ Paedoit " S42 130. "It's He! It'bUb!" , 344 131. KEFLECTIOlf .- 345 133. Once More Face to Face 350 133. Col. Selby Kneels and Kisses Hkb Hand 852 134. JolltGood Company 856 135- Stjppke or Breakfast? 380 138. Tail Piece 361 137. A Lady-Killer Tamed 265 138. CoNSUjnNQ LOTB 367 139. A Convert to "Women's Rights 370 140. Opening Negotiations 375 141. Not Just Yet 380 143. Well Posted 384 143. Mr. Trollop Thinks It Over 387 144. Dilworthy GiTEs Laura His Blessing. (Full ^kg^,) Face Page 389 145. Unnecessary Precaution '. 391 146. Where THE Protection is Needed 392 147. An Object OF Sympathy 393 148. Children OF Hope 398 149. The Editor , 399 150. Philip Leaving Laura, Tail Piece 403 151. Chairman of THE Committee •, 405 152. The House 408 J53, Col, Sellers Asleep in House of Representatives, (Full Page,) Face Page. , , 413 154. AHkartyShake ,,, 414 155. Senator DiLWORTHY TKAsquiL 417 156. " She Ain't Dah, Sar,- 418 157. As THE Witnesses Described It 422 158. The Learned Doctors 433 159. Important Business '. 424 160. Col, Sellers and Washington in Laura's Cell. (Full Page,; Face Page 4'28 161. Promised Patronage ■. 429 162. No Love Like A Motheb's 432 163. Cleaned Out But Not Crushed 435 164. The Landlord Taking Lessons 441 165. TailPikok 443 166. " We've Steuok It " , 4J4 167. The Mine at Ilium 448 168. The Hermit 451 169. Tailpiece 453 170 One Chance Open 465 171. What He Expected To Be 456 172. Alas! Poor Alice. ■ 459 173. How He Was Drawn In 460 174. Everything 483 175. Tailpiece 464 i?6. "Come Now, Let's Cheer Up ' 470 XVi iLLrSTRATIONS. 1T7. A SHiNiNa Example 4^ 178. Thh Sewikg Socibty Dodqb , , , ^ 4-^ 179. DiLWORTHY AdDEESBBS A SUNDAY SCHOOL. (FULL PaOE.) FGCB POffC 480 180. TailPxese , 483 181. The Judge 487 182. Laura on Tkial- 483 133. Michael Lanigan 439 184. Patrick Coughun 499 185. Ethan Dobr 491 186. Me. Hicks 493 187. Seakch foe a Father s(yj 188. Taking advantage of a Lull gog 189. TEE3I KXPrKED 5J4 190. Reelected • 514 191. The "faithful old hand" „ 515 192. A Fire Brand 518 193. Tail Piece..... 520 194. Col, Sellers and ■Washington Return Home after the Vote 520 195. A Court— IN Scene 523 196. Popular Endorsement 525 197. One of the Insulted Members , 532 198. Touched by the Struggles of the Poor ,. 5K 199. Mr. Noblk asks Questions 535 200. The Worn Out Style of Senator 541 201. The Past, Present, and Future 548 202. The Last Link Broken 546 203. The Terrible Ordeal 549 204. Retrospection. (Full Page,) FacePage 551 2re. Good Bye to Washington 554 206. Tailpiece 559 207. The Parting Blast Offered ., 562 208. The Last Blast 564 209. Struck It at Last 566 210. The Rich Proprietor 568 211. The Sick Chamber. (Full Page,) Face Page 570 212. Alice WS (glp THE GILDED AGE. CHAPTEE, I. Kibiwa win o-dLbendan aki. £7ig. A gallant tract Of land it is ! Meercraft 'Twill yield a pound an acre : We must let cheap ever at first. But, sir, This looks too large for you, I see. ^UNE, 18—- SguireHawMns sat upon the pyramid of large blocks, called the "stile," in front of his house, contempla- ting the mornins:. The locality w as Obedstown, ^ ^ East Tennessee. .Y ou woidd not know that Obedstown stood on the top of a mount- ain, for there was nothing about the landscape to indicate it — but it did : a mountain that stretched abroad over whole counties, and rose very gradually. The district was called the " Knobs of East Tennessee," and had a reputation like Nazareth, as far as turning out any good thing was concerned. The Squire's house was a double log cabin, in a state of decay ; two or three gaunt hounds lay asleep about the thresh- old, and lifted their heads sadly whenever Mrs. Hawkins or the children stepped in and out over their bodies. Rubbish was scattered about the grassless yardj a bench stood near 2 17 18 SQUIRE HAWKINS. the door with a tin wash basin on it and a pail of water and a gourd; a cat had begun to drink from the pail, hut the exertion was overtaxing her energies, and she had stopped to THE SQUIKG's house. rest. There was an ash-hopper by the fence, and au iron pot, for soft-soap-boiling, near it. This dwelling constituted one-fifteenth of Obedstown; the other fourteen houses were scattered about among the tall pine trees and among the corn-fields in such a way that a man might stand in the midst of the city and not know but that he was in the country if he only depended on his eyes for iufoiTnation. "Squire" Hawkins got his title from being postmaster of Obedstown — not that the title properly belonged to tlie office, but because in those regions the chief citizens always must have titles of some sort, and so the usual courtesy had been extended to Hawkins. The mail was monthly, and some- times amounted to as much as three or four letters at a single delivery. Even a rush like this did not fill up the postmaster's ARRIVAL OF THE MAILS. 19 whole month, though, and therefore he "kept store" in the intervals. The Squire was contemplating the morning. It was balmy and trancLuil, the vagrant bret^zes were laden with the odor of flowers, the murmur of bees was in the air, there was everywhere that suggestion of repose that summer Avoodlands bring to the senses, and the vague, pleasurable melancholy that such a time and such surroundings inspire. Presently the United States mail arrived, on horseback. There was but one letter, and it was for the postmaster. The THE n. S. M^IL. long-legged youth who carried the mail tarried an hour to talk, for there was no hurry ; and in a little while the male population of the village had assembled to help. As a general thing, they were dressed in homespun "jeans," blue or yellow — - there were no other varieties of it ; all wore one suspender and sometimes two — ^yarn ones knitted at home, — some wore vests, but few wore coats. Such coats and vests as did appear, how- ever, were rather picturesque than otherwise, for they were made of tolerably fanciful patterns of calico — a fashion which prevails there to this day among those of the community who have tastes above the common level and are able to afford style. Every individual arrived with his hands in his pockets ; a hand came out occasionally for a purpose, but it always went back again after service; and if it was the 20 ASSEMBLED TO I'ALK. head tliat was served, just tlie cant that the dilapidated straw hat got bj being uplifted and rooted under, was retained until the next call altered the inclination ; many hats OBEDSTOWN MALES. were present, hut none were erect and no two were canted just alike. We are speaking impartiallj of men ^ youths and boys. And we are also speaking of these three estates when we say that every individual was either chewing natural leaf tobacco prepared on his own premises, or smoking the same in a corn-cob pipe. Few of the men wore whiskers ; none wore moustaches ; some had a thick jungle of hair under the chin and hiding the throat — the only pattern recognized there as being tlie correct thing in whiskers ; but no part of any individual's face had seen a razor for a week. These neighbors stood a few moments looking at the mail carrier reflectively while he talked ; but fatigue soon began to show itself, and one after another they climbed up and occupied the top rail of the fence, hump-sliouldered and grave, A TENNESSEE PIG-STYE. 21 like a company of buzzards assembled for supper and listen- ing for the death-rattle. Old Damrell said : " Tha hain't no news 'bout the jedge, hit ain't likely ?" " Cain't tell for sartin ; some thinks he's gwyne to be 'long toreckly, and some thinks 'e hain't. E.uss Mosely he tole ole Hanks he monght git to Obeds tomorrer or nex' day he reckoned." " Well, I wisht I knowed; I got a prime sow and pigs in the cote-house, and I hain't got no place for to put 'em. If the jedge is a gwyne to hold cote, I got to roust 'em out, I reckon. But tomorrer'U do, I 'spect." The speaker bunched his thick lips togetlier like the stem- end of a tomato and shot a bumble-bee dead that had lit on a weed seven feet away. One after another the several chew- ers expressed a charge of tobacco juice and delivered it at the deceased with steady aim and faultless accuracy. "What's a stirrin', down 'bout the Forks?" continued Old Damrell. "Well, I dunno, skasely. Ole Drake Iliggins he's ben down to Shelby las' week. Tuck his crap down ; couldn't git shet o' the most uv it ; hit warn't no time for to sell, he say, so he fetch it back agin, 'lowin' to wait tell fell. Talks 'bout goin' to Mozouri — lots uv 'ems talkin' that-away down thar, Ole Higgins say. Cain't make a livin' here no mo', sich times as these. Si Higgins he's ben over to Kaintuck n' married a high-toned gal thar, outen the f nst families, an' he's come back to the Forks with jist a hell's-mint o' whoop-jam- boree notions, folks says. He's tuck an' fixed up the ole house like they does in Kaintuck, he say, an' tha's ben folks come cler from Turpentine for to see it. He's tuck an' gawmed it all over on the inside with plarsterin'." " What's plarsterin' ? " "/dono. Hit's what Ae calls it. Ole Mam Higgins, she tole me. She say she warn't gwyne tohang out in no sich a dern hole like a hog. Says it's mud, or some sich kiTid o' nastness tliat sticks on n' kivers up everything. Plarsterin', Si calls it." This marvel was discussed at considerable length; and 22 THE SQXJIKE DECIDES. almost with animation. But presently there was a dog-fight over in the neighborhood of the blacksmith shop, and the visitors slid off their perch like so many turtles and strode to the battle-iield with an interest bordering on eagerness. The Squire remained, and read his letter. Then he sighed, and sat long in meditation. At intervals he said : " Missouri. Missouri. Well, well, well, everything is so uncertain." At last he said : " I believe I'll do it. — ^A man will just rot, here. My house, my yard, everything around me, in fact, shows that I am becoming one of these cattle — and I used to be thrifty in other times." • He was not more than thirty-five, hut he had a worn look that made him seem older. He left the stile, entered that part of his house which was the store, traded a quart of thick molasses for a coonskin and a cake of beeswax to an old dame in linsey-woolsey, put his letter away, and went into the kitchen. His wife was there, constructing some dried apple pies; a slovenly urchin of ten was dreaming over a rude weather-vane of his own contriving; his small sister, close upon four years of age, was sopping corn-bread in some gravy left in the bottom of a frying-pan and trying hard not to sop A PKIVATE CONFEKENCE. 23 over a finger-mark that divided the pan through the middle — ^for the other side belonged to the brother, whose musings made him forget his stomach for the moment; a negro \ ' «i THE squire's KITCUEK. woman was busy cooking, at a vast fire-place. Shif tlessness and poverty reigned in the place. "Nancy, I've made up my mind. The world is done with me, and perhaps I ought to be done with it. But no matter — I can wait. I am going to Missouri. I won't stay in this dead country and decay with it. I've had it on my mind some time. I'm going to sell out here for whatever I can get, and buy a wagon and team and put you and the children in it and start." "Anywhere that suits you, suits me, Si. And the chil- dren can't be any worse off in Missouri than they are here, I reckon." Motioning his wife to a private conference in their own room, Hawkins said : " ISTo, they'll be better off. I've looked out for tAem, Nancy," and his face lighted. " Do you see these papers ? Well, they are evidence that I have taken up Seventy-five Thousand Acres of Land in this county — ^think what an enormous fortune it will be some day ! Why, Nancy, "enormous don't express it —the word's too- tame ! I tell you, Nancy " " For goodness sake, Si " 24 A PORTUNE IN PROSPECTIVE. ''Wait, l^ancy, wait — ^let me finish — ^I've been secretly boiling and fuming with this grand inspiration for weeks, and I must talk or I'll burst ! I haven't whispered to a soul — not a word — ^have had my countenance under lock and key, for fear it might drop something that would tell even these ani- mals here how to discern the gold mine that's glaring under their noses. Now all that is necessary to hold this land and keep it in the family is to pay the trifling taxes on it yearly — five or ten dollars — the whole tract woiild not sell for over a third of a cent an acre now, but some day people will be glad to get it for twenty dollars, fifty dollars, a Inindred dol- "for goodness sakes, si." lars an acre ! What should you say to " [here he dropped his voice to a whisper and looked anxiously around to see that there were no eavesdroppers,] " a thousand dollars an acre I "Well 3'ou may open your eyes and stare! But it's so. You and I may not see the day, but they'll see it. Mind I THE WONDERFUL TENNESSEE LANDS. 25 tell you, they'll see it. Nancy, you've heard of stea mboats, and may be you believed in tliem — of course you did. You've heard these cattle here scoff at them and call them lies and humbugs, — but they're not lies and humbugs, they're a real- ity and they're going to be a more wonderful thing some day than they are now. They're going to Tnalff- a. rfjvftlnfi'An in this world's affairs that wi ll mglrp mpn A^^7.y. J to contem- plate. I've been watching — I've been watching while some people slept, and I know what's coming. "Even you and 1 will see the day that steamboats will come up that little Turkey river to within twenty miles of this land of ours — and in high water they'll come right to it I And. this is not all, Nancy — it isn't even half! There's a bigger wonder — the railroad ! These worms hero have never even heard of it — and when they do they'll not believe in it. But it's another fact. Coaches that fly over the ground twenty miles an houi* — heavens and earth, think of that, Nancy! Twenty miles an hour. It ^naakes a man's brain whirl. Some day, when you and lare in our graves, there'll be a railroad stretching hundreds of miles — all the way down from the cities of the Northern States to New Orleans — and its got to run within thirty miles of this land — may be even touch a corner of it. Well, do you know, they've quit burn- ing wood in some places in the Eastern States ? And what do you suppose they burn? goal ! ^ [He bent over and whispered again :] " There's whole worlds of it on this land ! You know that black stuff that crops out of the bank of the branch?— well, that's it. You've taken it for rocks ; so has every body here ; and they've built little dams and such things with it. One man was going to build a chimney out of it. Nancy 1 expect I turned as white as a sheet! Why, it njight have caught fire and told everything. I showed him it was too crumbly. Then he was going to build it of copper ore — splendid yellow forty-per-eent. ore! There's fortunes upon fortunes of copper ore on our land ! It scared me to death, the idea of this fool starting a smelting furnace in his house 26 WE WILL GO TO MISSOTJEL ■without knowing it, and getting his dull eyes opened. And then he was going to build it of iron ore ! There's mountains of iron ore here, Nancy — whole mountains of it. 1 wouldn't take any chances. I just stuck by him — I haunted him — I never let him alone till he built it of mud and sticks like all the rest of the chimneys in this dismal country. Pine forests, wheat land, corn land, iron, copper, coal — wait till the rail- roads come, and the steamboats ! 'We^U never see the day, Nancy — never in the world — never, never, never, child. "We've got to drag along, drag along, and eat crusts in toil and poverty, all hopeless and forlorn — but they'll ride in coaches, Nancy ! They'll live like the princes of the earth; they'll be courted and worshiped ; their names wUl be known from ocean to ocean ! Ah, well-a-day ! Will they ever come back here, on the railroad and the steamboat, and say ' This one little spot shall not be touched — this hovel shall be sacred — for here our father and our mother suftered for us, thought for us, laid the foundations of our future as solid as the hills ! ' " " You are a great, good, noble soul. Si Hawkins, and I am an honored woman to be the wife of such a man " — and the tears stood in her eyes when she said it. " "VVe will go to Missouri. You are out of your place, here, among these groping dumb creatures. "We will find a higher place, where you can walk with your own kind, and be understood when you speak — ^not stared at as if you were talking some foreign tongue. I would go anywhere, anywhere in the wide world with you. I would rather my body should starve and die than your mind should hunger and wither away in this lonely land." " Spoken like yourseK, my child ! But we'll not starve, Nancy. Far from it. I have a letter from Beriah Sellers — just came this day. A letter that — I'll read you a line from it!" He flew out of the room. A shadow blurred the sunlight in Nancy's face — there was uneasiness in it, and disappoint- ei:miniscexces or beriah sellers. 27 ment. A procession of disturbing thongbts began to troop through her mind. Saj'ing nothing aloud, she sat with her hands in her lap ; now and then she clasped them, then un- clasped them, then tapped the ends of the fingers together; sighed, nodded, smiled — occasionally paused, shook her head. This pantomime was the elocutionary expression of an un- spoken soliloquy which had something of this shape : "I was afraid of it — was afraid of it. Trying to make our fortune in Yirginia, l^eriah Sellers nearly ruined us — and we had to settle in Kentucky "and start over again. Trying to make our fortune in Kentucky he crippled us again and we had to move here. Trying to make our fortune here, he brought us clear down to the ground, nearly. lie's an honest soul, and means the very best in the world, but I'm afraid, I'm afraid he's too flighty. He has splendid ideas, and he'll divide his chances with his friends with a free hand, the good generous soul, but something does • seem to always interfere and spoil everything. I never did think he was right well balanced. But I don't blame my liusband, for I do think that when that man gets his head full of anew notion, he can out-talk a machine. He'll make anybody be- lieve in that notion that'll listen to him ten minutes — why I do believe he would make a deaf and dumb man believe in it and get beside himself, if you only set him where he could see his eyes talk' and watch his hands explain. What a head he has got ! When he got up that idea there in Virginia of buying up whole loads of negroes in Delaware and Yirginia and Tennessee, very quiet, having papers drawn to have them delivered at a place in Alabama and take them and pay for them, away yonder at a certain time, and then in the mean- time get a law made stopping everybody from selling negroes to the south after a certain day — it was somehow that way — mercy how the man would have made money! Negroes would have gone up to four prices. But after he'd spent money and worked hard, and traveled hard, and had heaps of negroes all contracted for, and everything going along 28 FORTUiS'ES LOST. just right, he couldn't get the laws passed and down the whole thing tumbled; And there in Kentucky, when he raked up that old numskull that had been inventing away at a perpetual motion machine for 'twenty-two years, and Beriah Sellers saw at a glance where just one more little cog-wheel would settle the business, why I could see it as plain. as day when he came in wild at midnight and hammered us out of bed and told the whole thing in a whisper with the doors THE LAST COG WHEEL. bolted and the candle in an empty barrel. Oceans of money in it — anybody could see that. But it did cost a deal to buy the old numskull out — and then when they put the new cog- wheel in they'd overlooked something somewhere and it wasn't any use — the troublesome thing wouldn't go. That notion he got up here did look as handy as anj'thing in the world ; and how him and Si did sit up nights working at it with the curtains down and me watching to see if any neigh- bors were about. The man did honestly believe there was a fortune in that black gummy oil that stews out of the bank Si says is coal ; and he refined it himself till it M'as like water, nearly, and it did ]3nrn, there's no two ways al;out that ; and I reckon he'd have been all right in Cincinnati with his lamp that he got made, that time he got a house full of rich speculators to see him exhibit only in the middle of A MODEL LETTER. 29 his speech it let go and almost blew th6 heads off the •whole crowd. I haven't got over grieving for the money that cost, yet. I ana sorry enough Beriah Sellers is in Missouri, now, but I was glad when he went. I wonder what his letter says. But of course it's cheerful ; Ae's never down-hearted — never had any trouble in his life — didn't know it if he had. It's always sunrise with that man, and fine and blazing, at that — ^never gets noon, though — leaves off and rises again. Nobody can help liking the creature, he means so well — but I do dread to come across him again ; he's bound to set us all crazy, of course. "Well, there goes old widow Hopkins — it always takes her a week to buy a spool of thread and trade a hank of yarn. Maybe Si can come with the letter, now." And he did : " Widow Hopkins kept me — I haven't any patience with such tedious people. Now listen, Nancy — ^just listen at this : " ' Come right along to Missouri I Don't wait and worry about a good price butkSell out for whatever you can get, and oome along, or you might be too late. Throw away your traps, if necessary, and come empty-handed. You'll never regret it. It's the grandest country — the loveliest land — the purest atmosphere — ^I can't describe it ; no pen can do it justice. And it's filling up, every day- people coming from everywhere. I've got the biggest scheme on earth — and I'll take you in; I'll take in every friend I've got that's ever stood by me, for there's 30 OFF FOR MISSOURI. enough for all, and to spare. Mum's the word — don't whisper — ^keep yourself to yourself. You'll see ! Come ! — rush ! — hurry ! — don't wait for anything ! ' " It's the same old boy, Nancy, just the same old hoy — ain't he?" " Yes, I think there's a little of the old sound about his voice yet. I suppose you — ^you'll still go. Si ? " " Go ! Well, I should think so, Nancy. It's all a chance, of course, and chances haven't been kind to us, I'll admit — but whatever comes, old wife, they're provided for. Thank God for that!" " Amen," came low and earnestly. And wdth an activity and a suddenness that bewildered Obedstown and almost took its breath away, the Hawkinses harried through with their arrangements in four short months and flitted out into the great mysterious blank that lay beyond the Knobs of Tennessee. CHAPTER n. TOWAKD the close of the third day's journey the -wayfarers were just beginning to think of camping, when they came upon a log cabin in the woods. Hawkins drew rein and entered the yard. A boy about ten years old was sitting in the cabin door with his face bowed in his hands. Hawkins approached, expecting his footfall to attract attention, but it did not. He halted a moment, and then said : "Come, come, little chap, you mustn't be going to sleep before sundown." With a tired expression the small face came up out of the hands,— a face down which tears were flowing. " Ah, I'm sorry I spoke so, my boy. Tell me — is anything the matter? " The boy signified with a scarcely perceptible gesture that the trouble was in the house, and made room for Hawkins to pass. Then he put his face in his hands again and rocked himself about as one suiiering a grief that is too deep to find help in moan or groan or outcry. Hawkins stepped within. It was a poverty stricken place. Six or eight middle-aged coun- try people of both sexes were grouped about an object in the middle of the room; they were noiselessly busy and they talked in whispers when they spoke. Hawkins uncovered and approached. A cofiin stood upon two backless chairs. These neighbors had just finished disposing the body of a woman in it — a woman with a careworn, gentle face that had more the look of sleep about it tlian of death. An old lady motioned toward the door and said to Hawkins in a whisper : 31 32 THE DEAD MOTHER. "His motlier, po' thing. Died of the fever, last night. Tha warn't :io sich thing as saving of her. But it's better for her — better for her. Husband and the other two children died in the spring, and she hain't ever hilt up her head sence. She jest went around broken-hearted like, and never took no in- trust in anything but Clay — that's the boy thar. She jest wor- shiped Clay — and Clay he woi'shiped her. They didn't 'pear to live at all, only when they was together, looking at each other, loving one another. She's ben sick three weeks ; and if you believe me that child has worked, and kep' the run of the med'cin, and the times of giving it, and sot up nights and nussed her, and tried to keep up her sperits, the same as a grown-up person. And last night when she kep' a sinking and sinking, and turned away her head and didn't know him no mo', it was fitten to make a body's heart break to see him climb onto the bed and lay his cheek agin hern and call her so pitiful and she not answer. But bymeby she roused up, like, and looked around wild, and then she see him, and she made a great cry and snatched him to her breast and hilt him close and kissed him over and over agin ; but it took the last po' strength she had, and so her eyelids begin to close down, and her arms sort o' drooped away and then we see she was gone, po' creetur. And Clay, he — Oh, the po' motherless tiling — I cain't talk about it — I cain't bear to talk about it." Clay had disappeared from the door; but he came in, now, and the neighbors reverently fell apart and made way for him. He leaned upon the open coffin and let his tears course silently. Then he put out his small hand and smoothed the hair and stroked the dead face lovingly. After a bit he brought his other hand up from behind him and laid three or four fresh wild flowers upon the breast, bent over and kissed the unre- sponsive lips time and time again, and then turned away and went out of the house without looking at any of the company. The old lady said to Hawkins : " She always loved that kind o' flowers. He fetched 'em for her every morning, and she always kissed him. They was from away north somers — she kep' school when she fust come. Goodness knows what's to become o' that po' boy. No father. CASTING BREAD UPON THE WATERS. 33 no mother, no kin folks of no kind. Nobody to go to, nobody THE orphan's last gift. that k'yers for him — and all of us is so put to it for to get along and families so large." Hawkins understood. All eyes were turned inquiringly upon him. He said : " Friends, I am not very well provided for, myself, but still I would not turn my back on a homeless orphan. If he will go with me I will give him a home, and. loving regard — I will do for him as I would have another do for a child of my own in misfortune." On& after another the people stepped forward and wrung the stranger's hand with cordial good will, and their eyes looked all that their hands could not express or their lips speak. " Said like a true man," said one. " You was a stranger to me a minute ago, but you ain't now," said another. " It's bread cast upon the waters — it'll return after many days," said the old lady whom we have heard speak before. o Joyf^^ "^i I 34 THE NEW MOTHER. "You got to camp in my Louse as long as you hang out here," said one. " If tha hain't room for you and yourn my tribe'll turn out and camp in the hay loft." A few minutes afterward, while the preparations for the funeral were being concluded, Mr. Hawkins arrived at his wagon leading his little waif by the hand, and told his wife all that had happened, and asked lier if he had done right in ffiving to lier and to himself this new care ? She said : " If you've done wrong. Si Hawkins, it's a wrong that will shine brighter at the judgment day than the rights that many a man has done before you. And there isn't any compliment you can pay me equal to doing a thing like this and finishing it up, just, taking it for granted that I'll be willing to it. "Willing? Come to me, you poor motherless boy, and let me take your grief and help you carry it." When the child awoke in the morning, it was as if from a troubled dream. But slowly the confusion in his mind took form, and he remembered his great loss ; the beloved form in the cofBn ; his talk with a generous stranger who ofi'ered him a home ; the funeral, where the stranger's wife held him by the hand at the grave, and cried with him and comforted him ; and he remembered how this new mother tucked him in his bed in the neighboring farm house, and coaxed him to talk about his troubles, and then heard him say his prayers and kissed him good night, and left him with the soreness in his heart almost healed and his bruised spirit at rest. And now the new mother came again, and helped him to dress, and combed his hair, and drew his mind away by degrees from the dismal yesterday, by telling him about the ,wonderful journey he was going to take and the strange things he was going to see. And after breakfast they two went alone to the grave, and his heart went out to his new friend and his untaught eloquence poured the praises of his buried idol into her ears without let or hindrance. Together they planted roses by the headboard and strewed wild flowers upon the grave ; and then together they went away, hand in hand, and left the dead to the long sleep that heals all heart-achea and ends all sorrows. IRS. HAWKINS AND CLAY AT THE »KAVK Olf HlS MOTHER. CHAPTEK III. — Batillebalou ! (disoit-il) voici pis qu'antan. Fuyons ! C'est, par la mort boeuf ! Leviathan, descript par le noble prophcte Mosis en la vie du sainct home Job. II nous avallera tous, comme pilules Voy le cy. O que tu es horrible et abhominable ! . . . . Ho ho ! Diable, Satanas, Levia- than ! Je ne te peux veoir, tant tu es ideux et detestable. WriATEYER the lagging dragging journey may liave been to the I'est of the emigrants, it was a wonder and delight to the children, a world of enchantment ; and they believed it to be peopled with the mysterious dwarfs and giants and goblins that figured in the tales the negro slaves were in._ the habit of telling them nightly by the shuddering light of the ■kitchen fire. At the end of nearly a week of travel, the party went into camp near a shabby village which was caving, house by house, into the hungry Mississippi. The river astonished the chil- dren beyond measure. Its mile-breadth of water seemed an ocean to them, in the shadowy twilight, and the vague riband of trees on the further shore, the verge of a continent which surely none but they had ever seen before. " Uncle Dan'l " (colored,) aged 40 ; his wife, " aunt Jinny," aged 30, "Young Miss" Emily Hawkins, " Young Mars" Washington Hawkins and "Young Mars" Clay, the new member of the family, ranged themselves on a log, after sup- per, and contemplated the marvelous river and discussed it. The moon rose and sailed aloft through a maze of shredded cloud-wreaths ; the sombre river just perceptibly brightened under the veiled light ; a deep silence pervaded the air and was emphasized, at intervals, rather than broken, by the hoot- ing of an owl, the baying of a dog, or the muffled crash of a :^ving bank in the distance. The little company assembled on the log were all children, 35 80 UNCLE DANIEL'S APFAPJTION. (at least in simplicity and broad and comprehensive ignorance,) and the remarks they made about the river were in keeping with the cliaracter; and so awed were they by the grandeur and the solemnity of the scene before them, and by their belief that the air was filled with invisible spirits and that the faint zephyrs were caused by their passing wings, that all their talk took to itself a tinge of the supernatural, and their voices were subdued to a low and reverent tone. Suddenly Uncle Dan'l exclaimed : "Chil'en, dah's sumfin a comini" All crowded close together and every heart beat faster. 'children dah's StTMFJti' A C0M!N'1' Uncle Dan'l pointed down the river with his bony finger. A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, way toward a wooded cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot out from behind the cape and sent a long brilliant pathway quivering athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring pye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and A MODEL PRAYER. 37 still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall duplicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went tumbling away into the farther darkness. Nearer and nearer the. thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light which mirrored themselves iu the river and attended the monster like a torchlight procession. "What is it ! Oh, what is it. Uncle Dan'l !" With deep solemnity the answer came : " It's de Almighty ! Git down on yo' knees ! " It was not necessary to say it twice. They were all kneel- ing, in a moment. And then while the mysterious coughing rose stronger and stronger and the threatening glare reached farther and wider, the negro's voice lifted up its supplica- tions : 1 " Lord, we's ben mighty wicked, an' we knows dat we 'zerve to go to do bad place, but good Loi-d, deah Lord, we ain't ready yit, we ain't ready — let dese po' chil'eu hah one mo' chance, jes' one mo' chance. Take de ole niggah if you's got to hab somebody. — Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwyne to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah dat some po' sinner's a gwyne to ketch it. But gocd Lord, dese chil'en don't ,b'long hoah, dey's f'm Obedsto wu whah dey don't know nutfin, an' you knows, yo' own sef , dat dey ain't 'sponsible. An' deah Lord, good Lord, it ain't like yo' mercy, it ain't like yo' pity, it ain't like yo' long-suffei-in' lovin'-kindness for to take dis kind o' 'vantage o' sich little chil'en as dese is when dey's so many ornery grown folks chuck full o' cussedness dat wants roastin' down dah. Oh, Lord, spah de little chil'en, don't tar de little chil'en away f'm dey frens, jes' let 'em off jes' dis once, and take it out'n de ole niggaii. Heah I is, Loed, heah I is! De ole nig- gah's ready, Lord, de ole " The flaming and churning steamer was right abreast the party, and not twenty steps away. The awful thunder of a 88 THE EFFICIENCY OF PRAYEE. mud-valve suddenly burst forth, drowning the prayer, and as suddenly Uncle Dan'l snatched a child under each arm " BEAH I IS, LORD, HEAH I IS ! " and scoured into the woods with the rest of the pack at his heels. And then, ashamed of himself, he halted in the deep darkness and shouted, (but rather feebly : ) "Ileah I is. Lord, heah I is ! " There was a moment of throbbing suspense, and then, to the surprise and the comfort of the party, it was plain that the august presence had gone by, for its dreadful noises were receding. Uncle Dan'l headed a cautious reconnoissance in the direction of the log. Sure enough "the Lord" was just turning a point a short distance up the river, and while they looked the lights winked out and the coughing dimin- ished by degrees and presently ceased altogether. " li'wsh ! "Well now dey's some folks says dey ain't no 'fieiency in prah. Dis chile would like to know whah we'd a ben now if it warn't f o' dat prab ? Dat's it. Dat's it ! " UNCLE DANIEL APPEALS TO THE BIBLE. 39 "Uncle Dan'l, do you reckon it was the prayer that saved as ? " said Clay. " Does I reckon f Don't I Tcnow it ! Whah was yo' eyes ? Warn't de Lord jes' a comin' chow ! chow ! chow ! an' a goin' on turrible — ^an' do de Lord carry on dat way 'dout dey's sumfin don't suit him ? An' warn't he a lookin' right at dis gang heah, an' warn't he jes' a reachin' for 'em ? An' d'you spec' he gwyne to let 'em off 'dout somebody ast him to do it ? No indeedy ! " " Do you reckon he saw us, Uncle Dan'l ? " "De law sakes, chile, didn't I see him a lookin' at us?" "Did you feel scared, Uncle Dan'l?" "iV(? sah! When a man is 'gaged in prah, he ain't fraid o' nuffin — dey can't nn^n tetch him." " Well what did you run for ? " "Well, I — I — mars Clay, when a man is under de influ- ence ob de sperit, he do-no what he's 'bout — no sah ; dat man do-no what he's 'bout. You mout take an' tab de head ofE'n dat man an' be wouldn't scasely fine it out. Dab's de Hebrew chil'en dat went frough de fiah ; dey was burnt considablo — ob coase dey was ; but dey didn't know nufiin 'bout it — heal right up agin ; if dey'd ben gals dey'd missed dey long haah, (hair,) maybe, but dey wouldn't felt de burn." "Z don't know but what they were girls. I think they were." " Now mars Clay, you knows bettern dat. Sometimes a body can't tell whedder you's a sayin' what you means or whedder you's a sayin' what you don't mean, 'case you says 'em bofe de same way." "But how should 1 know whether they were boys or girls?" " Goodness sakes, mars Clay, don't de Good Book say ? 'Sides, don't it call 'em de ^e-brew chil'en ? If dey was gals ' wouldn't dey be de she-brew chil'en ? Some people dat kin read don't 'pear to take no notice when dey do read." "Well, Uncle Dan'l, I think that My ! here comes another one up the river ! There can't be two ! " 40 GONE niS TIME. " We gone dis time— we done gone dis time, sho'! Dey ain't two, mars Clay — dat's de same one. De Lord kin 'pear ebery whah in a second. Goodness, how de fiah and de smoke do belch up ! Dat mean business, honey. He comin' now like he fo'got sumfin. Come 'long, chil'en, time you's gwyne to roos'. Go 'long wid you — ole Uncle Daniel gwyne out in de woods to rastle in prah-^de ole nigger gwyne to do what he kin to sabe you agin." He did go to the woods and pray ; but he went so far that he doubted, himself, if the Lord heard him when He went by. ^^ \>^ CHAPTER IV. — Serenthly, Before his Toyage, He should make his peace with God, aatisfie his Creditors if he be in debt ; Pray earnestly to God to prosper him in his Voyage, and to lieep him from danger, and, if he be sui juris, he should make his last will, and wisely order all his affairs, since many that go far abroad, return not home. (This good and Christian Counsel is given by Martinus Zeil- «riM in hia Apodemical Canons before his Itinerary of Spain and Portugal.) EARLY in the morning Squire Hawkins took passage in a small steamboat, with his family and his two slaves, and presently the bell rang, the stage-plank was hanled in, and the vessel proceeded up the river. The children and the slaves were not much more at ease after finding out that this monster was a creature of human contrivance than they were the night before when they thought it the Lord of heaven and earth. They started, in fright, every time the gauge-cocks sent out an angry hiss, and they quaked from head to foot when the mud-valves thundered. The shiver- ing of the boat under the beating of the wheels was sheer misery to them. But of course familiarity with these things soon took away their terrors, and then the voyage at once became a glorious adventure, a royal progress through the very heart and home of romance, a realization of their rosiest wonder-dreams. They sat by the hour in the shade of the pilot house on the hurricane deck and looked out over the curving expanses of the river sparkling in the sunlight. Sometimes the boat fought the mid-stream current, with a verdant world on either hand, and remote from both; sometimes she closed in under a point, where the dead water and the helping eddies were, and shaved the bank so closely that the decks were swept by the jungle of over-hanging willows and littered with a spoil of leaves; departing from these "points" she regularly crossed the river every five miles, avoiding the "bight" of the great bends and thus escaping the strong current ; some- 41 d> ON THE MISSISSIPPI. times slie went out and skirted a high "bluff" sand-bar in the middle of the stream, and occasionally followed it up a little too far and touched upon the shoal water at its head — and then the intelligent craft refused to run herself aground, but "smelt" the bar, and straightway the foamy streak that streamed away from her bows vanished, a great foamless wave rolled forward and passed her under way, and in this instant she leaned far over on her side, shied from the bar and fled square away from the danger like a frightened thing — and the j^ilot was lucky if he managed to " straighten her up " before she drove her nose into the opposite bank ; some- times she approached a solid wall of tall trees as if she meant to break through it, hut all of a sudden a little crack would open just enough to admit her, and away she would go plow- ing through the "chute" with just barely room enough between the island on one side and the main land on the other; in this sluggish water she seemed to go like a race- horse ; now and then small log cabins appeared in little clear- ings, with the never-failing frowsy women and gii'ls in soiled and faded linsey-woolsey leaning in the doors or against wood- piles and rail fences, gazing sleepily at the passing show ; sometimes she found shoal water, going out at the head of those "chutes" or crossing the river, and then a deck-hand stood on the bow and hove the lead, while the boat slowed down and moved cautiously ; sometimes she stopped a moment at a landing and took on some freight or a passenger while a crowd of slouchy white men and negroes stood oh the bank and looked sleepily on with their hands in their pantaloons pockets, — of course — for they never took them out except to stretch, and when tliey did this they squirmed about and reached their fists up into the air and lifted themselves on tip-toe in an ecstasy of enjoyment. When the sun went down it turned all the broad river to a national banner laid in gleaming bars of gold and purple and crimson ; and in time these glories faded out in the twiliglit and left the fairy archipelagoes reflecting their fringing foli- age in the steely mirror of the stream. STEAMBOAT AMUSEMENTS. 43 At night the boat forged on through the deep solitudes of the rivei', hardly ever discovering a light to testify to a human presence — mile after mile and league after league the vast bends wer6 guarded by unbroken walls of forest that had never been disturbed by the voice or the foot-fall of K man or felt the edge of his sacrilegious axe. An hour after supper the moon came up, and Clay and Washington ascended to the hurricane deck to revel again in their ne^^- realm of enchantment. They ran races up and down the deck ; climbed about the bell ; made friends vrith the passenger-dogs chained under the life-boat ; tried to make NOT ENOOUEAGED. friends with a passenger-bear fastened to the verg^-staff but were not encouraged; "skinned the cat" on the hog-chains; in a word, exhausted the amusement-possibilities of the deck. Then they looked wistfully up at the pilot house, and finally, little by little, Clay ventured up there, followed diffidently by Washington. The pilot turned presently to "get his stern-marks," saw the lads and invited them in. JSTow their happiness was complete. This cosy little house, built entirely of glass and commanding a marvelous prospect in every direction was a magician's throne to them and their enjoy- ment of the place was simply boundless. They sat them down on a high bench and looked miles ahead and saw the wooded capes fold back and reveal the bends beyond; and they looked miles to the rear and saw 4.4 THE AMARANTH'S COMING I the silvery highway diminish its breadth by degrees and close itself together in the distance. Presently the pilot said : " By George, yonder comes the Amaranth ! " A spark appeared, close to the water, several miles down the river. The pilot took his glass and looked at it steadily for a moment, and said, chiefly to himself: " It can't be the Blue Wing. She couldn't pick us up this way. It's the Amaranth, sure." He bent over a speaking-tube and said : "Who's on watch down there?" A hollow, unhuman voice rumbled up through the tube in answer: "1a.m. Second engineer." " Good ! You want to stir your stumps, now, Harry — the Amaranth's just turned the point — and she's just a-humping herself, too ! " The pilot took hold of a rope that stretched out forward, jerked it twice, and two mellow strokes of the big bell responded. A voice out on the deck shouted : " Stand by, down there, with that labboard lead ! " "JSTo, I don't want the lead," said the pilot, "I want you. Roust out the old man — tell him the Amaranth's coming. And go and call Jim — tell him." "Aye-aye, sir!" The " old man " was the captain — he is always called so, on steamboats and ships ; " Jim " was the other pilot. With- in two minutes both of these men were flying up the pilot- house stairway, three steps at a jump. Jim was in his shirt- eleeves, with his coat and vest on his arm. He said: "I was just turning in. Wl jre's the glass?" He took it and looked : "Don't appear to be any night-hawk on the jack-staff— it's the Amaranth, dead sure!" The captain took a good long look, and only said : " Damnation ! " George Davis, the pilot on watch, shouted to the night- watchman on deck: "How's she loaded?" ALL HAKDS AHOY! LIVELY NOW. 45 "Two inches by the head, sir." " 'T ain't eno\igh!" The captain shouted, now : " Call the mate. Tell him to call all hands and get a lot of that sugar forrard — put her ten inches by the head. Lively, now ! " " Aye-aye, sir ! " A riot of shouting and trampling floated up from below, presently, and the uneasy steering of the boat soon showed that she was getting " down by the head." The three men in the pilot house began to talk in short, =JUk v^:?^ w-J— SHE S GAINING. sharp sentences, low and earnestly. As their excitement rose, their voices went down. As fast as one ox them put down tlie spy-glass another took it up — but always with a studied air of calmness. Each time the verdict was : "She's a gaining!" The captain spoke through the tube : " What steam are you carrying ? " " A hundred and forty-two, sir ! But she's getting hotter and hotter all the time." The boat was straining and groaning and quivering like a monster in pain. Both pilots were at work now, one on each side of the wheel, with their coats and vests off, their bosoms and collars wide open and the perspiration flowing down their faces. They were holding the boat so close to the shore that 46 MXIRDEREE'S CHUTE. the willows swept the guards almost from stem to stem, "Stand by !" whispered George. " All ready ! " said Jim, under his breath. "Let her come! " The boat sprang away from the bank like a deer, and darted in a long diagonal toward the other shore. She closed in again and thrashed her fierce way along the willows as before. The captain put down the glass : " Lord how she walks up on us ! I do hate to be beat ! " " Jim," said George, looking straight ahead, watciiing the slightest yawing of the boat and promptly meeting it with the wheel, "how'll it do to try Murderer's Chute? " "Well, it's — it's taking chances. How was the cotton- wood stump on the false point below Boardman's Island this morning ? " " Water just touching the roots." " Well it's pretty close work. That gives six feet scant in the head of Murderer's Chute. We can just barely rub through if we hit it exactly right. But it's worth trying. She don't dare tackle it ! " — meaning the Amaranth. In another instant the Boreas plunged into what seemed a crooked creek, and the Amaranth's approaching lights were shut out in a moment. ISTot a whisper was uttered, now, but the three men stared ahead into the shadows and two of them spun the wheel back and forth with anxious watchfulness while the steamer tore along. The chute seemed to come to an end every fifty yards, but always opened out in time. Now the head of it was at hand. George tapped the big bell three times, two leadsmen sprang to their posts, and in a moment their weird cries rose on the night air and were caught up and repeated by two men on the upper deck: "No-c bottom!" " De-e-p four ! " "Half three!" " Quarter three ! " " Mark under wa-a-ter three I " '' Half twain ! " ' Quarter twain ! ^" SHOALING PAST. 47 Davis pnlled a couple of ropes — there was a jingling of small bells far below, the boat's speed slackened, and the pent steam began to whistle and the gauge-cocks to scream: " By the mark twain ! " " Quar - ter - her - er - less -^—^—^^—'^ ^ twain ! " « Eight o^itZ a half!" "Eight feet!" " Seven-ana-half ! " Another jingling of lit- tle bells and the wheels ceased turning altogether. The whistling of the steam something frightful, drowned BY THE MARK TWAIN was now — it almost all other noises. " Stand by to meet her !"' George had the wheel hard down and was stand- ing on a spoke. " All ready ! " Tlie boat hesitated — seemed to hold her breath, as did the captain and pilots — and then she began to fall away to starboard and every eye lighted : " Now then ! — meet her ! meet her I Snatch her ! " The wheel flew to port so fast that the spokes blended into a spider-web — the swing of the boat subsided — she steadied herself "Seven feet!" " Sev— six and a Jialf!''^ « Six feet ! Six f — ■■ " Bang! She hit the bottom! the tube : " Spread her wide open ! Whale it at her I " Pow — wow — chow ! The escape-pipes belched snowy pillars of steam aloft, the boat ground and surged and trem- George shouted through 4S A FULL HAND BUT THE TRICK LOST. bled — and slid over into "M-a-r-k twain!" " Quarter-her " " Tap ! tap ! tap ! " (to signify " Lay in the leads.") And away she wont, flying up the willow shore, with the whole silver sea of the Mississippi stretching abroad on every hand. ]^o Amaranth in sight ! " Ha-ha, boys, we took a couple of tricks that time ! " said the captain. And just at that moment a red glare appeared in the head of the chute and the Amaranth came springing after them ! "Well, I swear!" " Jim, what is the meaning of that ? " " I'll tell you what's the meaning of it. That hail we had at Napoleon was Wash Hastings, wanting to come to Cairo ■ — and we didn't stop. Pie's in that pilot house, now, show- ing tliose mud turtles liow to hunt for eas}' wnter." "That's it! I thought it wasn't any slouch lliat was run- ning that middle bar in Hog-eye Bend. If it's Wash Hastings — well, what he don't know about the river ain't worth knowing — a regular gold-leaf, kid-glove, diamond- breastpin pilot Wash Hastings is. We won't take any tricks off of Mm, old man ! " "I wish I'd a stopped for him, that's all." The Amaranth was within three hundred yards of the Boreas, and still gaining. The " old man " spoke through the tube : " What is she carrying now ? " " A Imndred and sixty -five, sir ! " " How's your wood ? " " Pine all out — cypress half gone — eating up cotton-wood like pie ! " " Break into that rosin on the main deck — pile it in, the boat can pay for it ! " Soon the boat was plunging and quivering and screaming V -»» \ TILE EXPLOSION. 49 more madly than ever. But the Amaranth's head was almost abreast the Boreas's stem : " How's your steam, now, Harry ? " "Hundred and eighty-two, sir ! " " Break up the casks of bacon in the forrard hold! Pile it in 1 Levy on that turpentine in the fantail — drench every . stick of wood with it ! " The boat was a moving earthquake by this time : "How is she now ? " " A hundred and ninety-six and still a-swelling ! — ^water below the middle gauge-cocks ! — carrying every pound she can stand ! — nigger roosting on the safety-valve ! " " Good ! How's your draft ? " " Bully ! Ever)'- time a nigger heaves a stick of wood into the furnace he goes out the chimney with it ! " The Amaranth drew steadily up till her jack-stafE breasted the Boreas' s wheel-house — climbed along inch by inch till her chimneys breasted it — crept along, further and further till the boats were wheel to wheel — and then they closed up with a heavy jolt and locked together tight and fast in the middle of the big river under the flooding moonlight ! A roar and a hurrah went up from the crowded decks of both steamers — all hands rushed to the guards to look and shout and ges- ticulate — the weight careened the vessels over toward each other — officers flew hither and thither cursing and storming, trying to drive the people amidships — ^both captains were leaning over their railings shaking their fists, swearing and threatening — black volumes of smoke rolled up and canopied the scene, delivering a rain of sparks upon the vessels— two pistol shots rang out, and both captains dodged unhurt and the packed masses of passengers surged back and fell apart while the shrieks of women and children soared above the intolerable din And then there was a booming roar, a thundering crash, and the riddled Amaranth dropped loose from her hold and drifted helplessly away ! Instantly the fire-doors of the Boreas were thrown open 60 THE BURNING STEAMER. and the men began dasliiug buckets of water into the fur- naces — for it would have been death and destruction to stop the engines with such a head of steam on. As soon as possible the Boreas dropped down to the float- ing wreck and took off the dead, the wounded and the unhurt — at least all that could be got at, for the whole forward half of the boat was a shapeless ruin, with the great chimneys lying crossed on top of it, and underneath were a dozen vic- tims imprisoned alive and wailing for help. While men with axes worked with might and main to free these poor fellows, the Boreas's boats went about, picking up stragglers from the river. And now a new horror presented itself. The wreck took fire from the dismantled furnaces ! Never did men work with a heartier will than did those stalwart braves with the axes. But it was of no use. The fire ate its way steadily, despising the bucket brigade that fought it. It scorched the clothes, it singed the hair of the axemen — it drove them back, foot by foot — inch by inch — they wavered, struck a final blow in the teeth of the enemy, and surrendered. And as they fell back they heard prisoned voices saying : " Don't leave us ! Don't desert us I Don't, don't do it I " And one poor fellow said : " I am Henry Worley, striker of the Amaranth ! My mother lives in St. Louis. Tell her a lie for a poor devil's sake, please. Say I was killed in an instant and never knew what hurt me — though God knows I've neither scratch nor bruise this moment ! It's hard to burn up in a coop like this with the whole wide world so near. Good-bye boys — we've all got to come to it at last, anyway ! " The Boreas stood away out of danger, and the ruined steamer went drifting down the stream an island of wreath- ing and climbing flame that vomited clouds of smoke from time to time, and glared more flercely and sent its luminous tongues higher and higher after each emission. A shriek at intervals told of a captive that had met his doom. The wreck lodged upon a sandbar, and when the Boreas turned KESULTS OF THE RACE. 51 the next point on lier upward journey it was still burning with scarcely abated fury. When the boys came down into the main saloon of the Boreas, they saw a pitiful sight and heard a world of pitiful sounds. Eleven poor creatures lay dead and forty more lay ONE OF THE VICTIMS. moaning, or pleading or screaming, while a score of Good Samaritans moved among them doing what they could to re- lieve their sufferino's ; batliins: their skinless faces and bodies with linseed oil and lime water and covering the places with bulging masses of raw cotton tliat gave to every face and form a dreadful and unhuman aspect. A little wee French midshipman of fourteen lay fearfully injured, but never uttered a sound till a phj'sician of Mem- phis was about to dress his hurts. Then he said : "Can I get well ? You need not be afraid to tell me." "No — I — I am afraid you can not." " Then do not waste your time with me — ^help those that can get well." "But " " Help those that can get well ! It is not for me to be a girl. I carry the blood of eleven generations of soldiers in my veins ! " The physician — ^liimself a man who had seen service in the 52 NOBODY TO BLAME. navy in his time — touched his hat to this little hero, and passed on. The head engineer of the Amaranth, a grand specimen of physical manhood, struggled to his feet a ghastly spectacle and strode toward his brother, the second engineer, who was unhurt.. He said : " Tou were on watch. You were boss. You would not listen to me when I begged you to reduce your steam. Take that ! — take it to my wife and tell her it comes from me by the hand of my murderer! Take it — and take my curse with it to blister your heart a hundred years — and may you live so long !, " And he tore a ring from his finger, stripping flesh and skin with it, threw it down and fell dead ! But these things must not be dwelt upon. The Boreas landed her dreadful cargo at the next large town and deliv- ered it over to a multitude of eager hands and warm southern hearts — a cargo amounting by this time to 39 wounded persons and 22 dead bodies. And with these she delivered a list of 96 missing persons that had drowned or otherwise perished at the scene of the disaster. A jury of inquest was impaneled, and after due deliber- ation and inquiry they returned the inevitable American ver- dict which has been so familiar to our ears all the days of our lives — " Nobody to blame." * *The incidents of the explosion are not inrented. They happened Jnst a3 they are told.— Thi: Auihoks. CHAPTER V. n Teut faire archer de la neige au four et la vendre pour du sel blano. WHEN" the Eoreas backed away from the land to con- tinue her voyage up the river, the Hawkinses were richer by twenty-four hours of experience in the contempla- tion of human suffering and in learning through honest hard work ho# to relieve it. And they were richer in another way also. In the early turmoil an hour after the explosion, a little black-eyed girl of five years, frightened and crying bitterly, was struggling through the throng in the Boreas' saloon calling her mother and father, but no one answered. — Something in the face of Mr. Hawkins attracted her and she came and looked up at him; was satisfied, and took refuge with him. He petted her, listened to her troubles, and said he would find her friends for her. Then he put her in a state-room with his children and told them to be kind to her (the adults of his party were all busy with the wound- ed) and straightway began his search. It was fruitless. But all day he and his wife made inquir- ies, and hoped against hope. All that they could learn was that the child and her parents came on board at New Orleans, where they had just arrived in a vessel from Cuba; that they looked like people from the Atlantic States ; that the family name was Van Brunt and the child's name Laura. This was all. The parents had not been seen since the explosion. The child's manners were those of a little lady, and her clothes were daintier and finer than any Mrs. Hawkins had ever seen before. As the hours dragged on the child lost heart, and cried so 53 54 LITTLE LAURA. piteously for her mother that it seemed to the Hawkinses that the meanings and the wailings of the mutilated men and ■women in the saloon did not so strain at their heart-strings as the suiferings of this little desolate creature. They tried hard to comfort her ; and in trying, learned to love her ; they could not help it, seeing how she clung to them and put her arms about their necks and found no solace but in their kind eyes and comforting words. There was a question in both their hearts — a question that rose up and asserted itself with more and more pertinacity as the hours wore on — but both hesitated to give it voice — ^both kept silence and waited. But a time came at last when the matter would bear delay no longer. The boat had landed, and the dead and the wound- ed were being conveyed to the shore. The tired child was asleep in the arms of Mrs. Hawkins. Mr. Hawkins came into their presence and stood without speaking. His eyes met his wife's ; then both looked at the child — and as they looked it stirred in its sleep and nestled closer; an expression of contentment and peace settled upon its face that touched the mother-heart ; and when the eyes of husband and wife met, again, the question was asked and answered. "When the Boreas had journeyed some four hundred miles frorti ^le time the Hawkinses joined her, a long rank of steamboats was sighted, packed side by side at a wharf like sardines in a box, and above and beyond them rose the domes and steeples and general architectural confusion of a city — a city with an imposing umbrella of black smoke spread over it. This was St. Louis. The children of the Hawkins fam- ily were playing abeut the hurricane deck, and the father and mother were sitting in the lee of the pilot house essaying to keep order and not greatly grieved that they were not succeeding. " They're worth all the trouble they are, Nancy." "Tes, and more, Si." " I believe you ! You wouldn't sell one of them at a good round figure ? " "Not for all the money in the bank. Si." "My own sentiments every time. It is true we are not A LOOK AHEAD. §5 rich — but still you are not sorry — you haven't any misgivings about the additions ? " " No. God will provide." " Amen. And so you wouldn't even part with Clay ? Or Laura ! " "Not for anything in the world. I love them just the same as I love my own. They pet me and spoil me even more than the others do, I think. I reckon we'll get along, Si." " Oh yes, it will all come out right, old mother. I wouldn't be afraid to adopt a thousand children if I wanted to, for there's that Tennessee Land, you know — enough to make an army of them rich. A whole army, Nancy! You and I will never see the day, but these little chaps will. Indeed they will. One of these days it will be ' the rich Miss Emily Hawkins — and the wealthy Miss Laura Yan Brunt Hawkins — and the Hon. George "Washington Hawkins, millionaire — and Gov. Henry Clay Hawkins, millionaire ! ' That is the way the world will word it ! Don't let's ever fret about the children, Nancy — never in the world. They're all right. Nancy, there's oceans and oceans of money in that land — mark my words ! " The children had stopped playing, for the moment, and drawn near to listen.i Hawkins said : " Washington, my boy, what will you do when you get to be one of the richest men in the world ? " " I don't know, father. Sometimes I think I'll have a balloon and go up in the air; and sometimes I think I'll have ever so many books ; and sometimes I think I'll have ever so many weather-cocks and water-wheels; or have a machine like that one you and Colonel Sellers bought ; and sometimes I think I'll have — well, somehow I don't know — somehow I ain't certain ; maybe I'll get a steamboat first." " The same old chap ! — always just a little bit divided about things. — And what will you do when you get to be one of the richest men in the world, Clay ? " " I don't know, sir. My mother — my other mother that's 56 THE NEW HOME. gone away — she always told me to work along and not be much expecting to get rich, and then I wouldn't be disap- pointed if I didn't get rich. And so I reckon it's better for me to wait till I get rich, and then by that time maybe I'll know what I'll want — but I don't now, sir." " Careful old head ! — Governor Henry Clay Hawkins ! — ■ that's what you'll be, Clay, one of these days. Wise old head ! weighty old head ! Go on, now, and play — all of you. It's a prime lot, Nancy,' as the Obedstown folk say about their hogs." A smaller steamboat received the Hawkinses and their for- tunes, and bore them a hundred and thirty miles still higher up the Mississippi, and landed them at a little tumble-down village on the Missouri shore in the twilight of a mellow October day. The next morning they harnessed up their team and for two days they wended slowly into the interior through almost roadless and uninhabited forest solitudes. And when for the last time they pitched their tents, metaphorically speaking, it was at the goal of their hopes, their new home. By the muddy roadside stood a new log cabin, one story high — the store ; clustered in the neighborhood were ten or twelve more cabins, some new, some old. In the sad light of the departing day the place looked homeless enough. Two or three coatless young men sat in front of the store on a dry-goods box, and whittled it with their knives, kicked it with their vast boots, and shot tobaeeo- juice at A'arious marks. Several ragged negroes leaned com- fortably against the posts of the awning and contemplated the arrival of the wayfarers with lazy curiosity. All these people presently managed to drag themselves to the vicinity of the Hawkins' wagon, and there they took up permanent positions, hands in pockets and resting on one leg ; and thus anchored they proceeded to look and enjoy. Vagrant dogs came wagging around and making inquiries of Hawkins's dog, which were not satisfactory and they made war on him in concert. This would have interested the citizens but it COL. SELLERS' RECEPTION. 57 was too many on one to amount to anything as a fight, and BO they commanded the peace and the foreign dog furled his tail and took sanctuary under the wagon. Slatternly negro girls and women slouched along with pails deftly balanced on their heads, and joined the group and stared. Little half dressed white boys, and little negro boys with nothing what- ever on but tow -linen shirts with a fine southern exposure, came from various directions and stood with their hands locked together behind them and aided in the inspection. The rest of thp population were laying down their employ- ments and getting ready to come, when a man burst through the assemblage and seized the new-comers by the hands in a frenzy of welcome, and exclaimed — indeed almost shouted : " Well who covld have believed it ! Now is it you sure enough — turn around ! hold up your lieads ! I want to look at you good ! Well, well, well, it does seem most too good to be true, I declare ! Lord, I'm so glad to see you ! Does a body's whole soul good to look at you ! Shake liands again ! Keep on shaking hands ! Goodness gracious alive. What will my wife say \ — Oh yes indeed, it's so ! — married only last week — ^lovely, perfectly lovely creature, the noblest woman that ever — yoa'll like her, In ancy ! Like her ? Lord bless me you'll love her — you'll dote on her — you'll be twins ! Well, well, well, let me look at you again ! Same old — why bless my life it was only just this very morning that my wife says, ' Colonel ' — she will call me Colonel spite of everything I can do — she says ' Colonel, something tells me somebody's coming ! ' and sure enough here you are, the last people on earth a body could have expected. Why she'll think she's a prophetess — and hanged if I don't think so too — and you know there ain't any country but what a prophet's an honor to, as the proverb says. Lord bless me — and here's the children, too ! Washington, Emily, don't you know me ? Come, give us a kiss. Won't I fix you, though 1 — ponies, cows, dogs, everything you can think of that'll delight a child's heart — and . Why how's this ? Little strangers ? Well you won't be any strangers here, I can tell 58 MADE COMFOETABLE. you. Bless your souls we'll make you think you never was at home before — 'deed and 'deed we will, I can tell you ! Come, now, bundle right along with me. You can't glorify any hearth stone but mine in this camp, you know — can't eat anybody's bread but mine — can't do monnaie! — when a — well now that's odd — Oh, now I re- member, must have left it at the bank; and b'George I've left my check-book, too — ^PoUy says I ought to have a nurse WELCOME WASHINGTON. — ^well, no matter. Let me liave a dime, "Washington, if you've got — ah, thanks. Now clear out, Jerry, your com- ATTEMPTED CORNER IN SPECIE. plexion has brought on the twilight half an hour ahead of time. Pretty fair joke — pretty fair. Here he is, Polly ! Washington's come, children ! — come now, don't eat him up — ^finish him in the house. Welcome, my boy, to a mansion that is proud to shelter the son of the best man that walks on the ground. Si Hawkins has been a good friend to me, and I believe I can say that whenever I've had a chance to put him into a good thing I've done it, and done it pretty cheer- fully, too. I put him into that sugar speculation — what a grand thing that was, if we hadn't held on too long ! " True enough ,• but holding on too long had uttei-ly ruinedi both of them ; and the saddest part of it was, that they never| had had so much money to lose before, for Sellers's sale of their mule crop that year in New Orleans had been a great financial success. If he had kept out of sugar and gone back 18 THE SELLERS MANSION. home content to stick to mules it would have been a happy wisdom. As it was, ho managed to kill two birds with one stone — that is to say, he killed the sugar speculation by hold- ijig for high rates till lie had to sell at the bottom figure, and that calamity killed the mule that laid the golden egg — which is but a figurative expression and will be so understood. Sellers had returned home cheerful but empty-handed, and the mule business lapsed into other hands. The sale of the Hawkins property by the Sheriff had followed, and the Haw- kins hearts been torn to see Uncle Dan'l and his wife pass from the auction-block into the hands of a negro trader and depart for the remote South to be seen no more by the family. It had seemed like seeing their own flesh and blood sold into banishment. Washington was greatly pleased with the Sellers mansion. It was a two-story-and-a-half brick, and much more stylish than any of its neighbors. He was borne to the family sit- ting room in triumph by the swarm of little Sellerses, the parents following with their arms about each other's waists. The whole family were poorly and cheaply dressed ; and the clothing, although neat and clean, showed many evi- dences of having seen long service. The Colonel's "stovepipe" hat was napless and shiny with much polishing, but never- theless it had an almost convincing expression about it of having been just purchased new. The rest of his clothing was napless and shiny, too, but it had the air of being entirely satisfied with itself and blandly sorry for other peo- ple's clothes. It was growing rather dark in the house, and the evening air was chilly, too. Sellers said : " Lay off your overcoat, Washington, and draw up to the stove and make yourself at home — just consider yourself under your own shingles my boy — I'll have a fire going, in a jiffy. Light the lamp, Polly, dear, and let's have things cheerful — just as glad to see you, Washington, as if you'd been lost a century and we'd found you again ! " By this time the Colonel was conveying a lighted match into a poor little stove. Then he propped the stove door to vts place by leaning the poker against it, for the hinges had THE COLONEL'S WONDERFUL CLOCK. 79 retired from business. This door framed a small square of isinglass, which now warmed up with a faint glow. Mrs. Sellers lit a cheap, showy lamp, which dissipated a good deal of the gloom, and then everybody gathered into the light and took the stove into close companionship. The children climbed all over Sellers, fondled him, petted him, and were lavishly petted in retiirn. Out from this tug- ging, laughing, chattering disguise of legs and arms and little faces, the Colonel's voice worked its way and his tire- less tongue ran blithely on without interruption; and the purring little wife, diligent with her knitting, sat near at hand and looked happy and proud and grateful; and she listened as one who listens to oracles and gospels and whose grateful soul is being refreshed with the bread of life. Bye and bye the children quieted down to listen ; clustered about their father, and resting their elbows on his legs, they hung upon his words as if helwere uttering the music of the spheres. A dreary old hair-cloth sofa against the wall ; a few dam- aged chairs ; the small table the lamp stood on ; the crippled stove — these things constituted the furniture of the room. There was no carpet on the floor ; on the wall were occasion- al square-shaped interruptions of the general tint of the plas- ter which betrayed that there used to be pictures in the house — but there were none now. There were no mantel orna- ments, vmless one might bring himself to regard as an orna- ment a clock which never came within fifteen strokes of striking the right time, and whose hands always hitched together at twenty-two minutes past anything and traveled in company the rest of the way home. "Eemarkable clock !" said Sellers, and got up and wound it. "I've been offered — well, I wouldn't expect you to believe what I've been offered for that clock. Old Gov. Hager never sees me but he says, 'Come, now. Colonel, name your price — I must have that clock ! ' But my goodness I'd as soon think of selling my wife. As I was saying to silence in the court, now, she's begun to strike 1 Yon can't talk against her— you have to just be patient and hold up till she's said her say. Ah — well, as I was saying, when — she's 80 " HAIN'T YOU FATHER?" beginning again! Nineteen, twenty, twenty -one, twenty- two, twen ah, that's all. — Yes, as I was saying to old Judge go it, old girl, don't mind me. — Now how is that ? ■ — isn't that a good, spirited tone ? She can wake the dead ! Sleep ? Why you might as well try to sleep in a thunder- factory. Now just listen at that. She'll strike a hundred and fifty, now, without stopping, — ^you'll see. There ain't another clock like that in Christendom." Washington hoped that this might be true, for the din was distracting — thougli the family, one and all, seemed filled witli joy; and the more the clock "buckled down to her work" as tlie Colonel expressed it, and the more insupport- able the clatter became, the more enclianted they all appeared to be. When there was silence, Mrs Sellers lifted upon Wash- ington a face that beamed with a childlike pride, and said : " It belonged to his grandmother." The look and the tone were a plain call for admiring sur- prise, and therefore Washington said — (it was the only thin.g that offered itself at the moment :) " Indeed ! " " Yes, it did, didn't it father ! " exclaimed one of the twins. " She was my great-grandmother — and George's too ; wasn't she, father ! You never saw her, but Sis has seen he:r, when Sis was a baby — didn't you. Sis! Sis has seen her most a hundred, times. She was awful deef — she's dead, now. Ain't she, father ! " All the children chimed in, now, with one general Babel of information about deceased — nobody offering to read the riot act or seeming to discotintenance the insurrection or dis- approve of it in any way — ^but the head twin drowned all the turmoil and held his own against the field : " It's our clock, now — and it's got wheels inside of it, and a thing that flutters every time she strikes — don't it, father ! Great-grandmother died before hardly any of ns was born — she was an Old-School Baptist and had warts all over her — you ask father if she didn't. She had an uncle once that was bald-headed and nsed to have fits ; he wasn't our uncle, I don't know what he was to us — some kin or another I reckon THE COLONEL'S CHEERFUL FIRESIDE. 81 — ^father's seen him a thousand times — hain't you, father ! We used to have a calf that et apples and just chawed up dishrags like nothing, and if you stay here you'll see lots of funerals — won't he, Sis ! Did you ever see a house afire ? I have ! Once me and Jim Terry " But Sellers began to speak now, and the storm ceased. He began to tell about an enormous speculation he was thinking of embarking some capital in— a speculation whicli some Lon- don bankers had been over to consult with him about — and soon he was building glittering pyramids of coin, and Wash- ington was presently growing opulent under the magic of his eloquence. But at the same time Washington was not able to ignore the cold entirely. He was nearly as close to the stove as he could get, and yet he could not persuade himself that he felt the slightest heat, notwithstanding the isinglass door was still gently and serenely glowing. He tried to get ^r ^K BRILLIANT IDKA. a trifle ,tloser to the stove, and the consequence was, he trippc^^l the supporting poker and the stove-door tum- bled the floor. And then tliere was a revelation — there 1 6- 82 A NEW CUKE FOR THE RHEUMATISM. was nothing in the stove but a L'ghted tallow-candle! The poor youth blushed and felt as if he must die with shame. But the Colonel M-as only disconcerted for a moment — he straightway found his voice again : " A little idea of my own, Washington — one of the great- est things in the world ! You must write and tell your father about it — don't forget that, now. I have been reading up some European Scientific reports — friend of mine. Count Fu- gier, sent them to me — sends me all sorts of things from Paris — he thinks tlie world of me, Fugier does. Well, I saw that the Academy of France had been testing the properties of heat, and they came to the conclusion that it was a non- conductor or something like that, and of course its influence must necessarily be deadly in nervous organizations with ex- citable temperaments, especially where there is any tendency toward rheumatic affections. Bless you I saw in a moment what was the matter with us, and says I, out goes your fires ! — no more slow torture and certain death for me, sir. What you want is the ajypearance of heat, not the heat itself — that's the idea. Well how to do it was the next thing. I just put my head to work, pegged away a couple of days, and here you are ! Eheumatism ? Why a man can't any more start a case of rheumatism in this house than he can shake an opinion out of a mummy ! Stove with a candle in it and a transparent door — that's it — it has been the salvation of this family. Don't you fail to write your father about it, Wash- ington. And tell him the idea is mine — I'm no more con- ceited than most people, I reckon, but you know it is human nature for a man to want credit for a thing like that." Washington said with his blue lips that he would, but he said in his secret heart that he would promote no such in- iquity. He tried to believe in the healthfulness of the in- vention, and succeeded tolerably well ; but after all he could not feel that good health in a frozen body was any real im- provement on the rheumatism. CHAPTER VIII. — ^Whan p3 borde is thynne, as of seruyse, Nought replenesshed with grete diuersite Of mete & drinlte, good chere may then suffise , With honest talkyng The Book of Curtesye. Mammon. Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore In Novo Orbe ; here's the rich Peru : And there within, sir, are the golden mines, Great Solomon's Ophir ! B. Jomon. THE supper at Col. Sellers's was not sumptuous, in the beginning, but it improved on acquaintance. That is to say, that what Washington regarded at first sight as mere lowly potatoes, presently became awe-inspiring agricultural productions that had been reared in some ducal garden beyond the sea, under the sacred eye of the duke himself, who had sent them to Sellers; the bread was from corn which could be grown in only one favored locality in the earth and only a favored few could get it ; the Eio coft'ee, which at first seemed execrable to the taste, took to itself an improved flavor when Washington was told to drink it slowly and not hurry what should be a lingering luxury in order to be fully appreciated — it was from the private stores of a Brazilian nobleman with an unrememberable name. The Colonel's tongue was a magician's wand that turned dried apples into figs and water into wine as easily as it could change a hovel into a palace and present poverty into imminent future riches. Washington slept in a cold bed in a carpetless room and woke lip in a palace in the morning ; at least the palace lin- gered during the moment that he was rubbing his eyes and getting his bearings — and then it disappeared and he recog- 83 84: PRODIGIOUS OPERATIONS. nized that the Colonel's inspiring talk had been influencing his dreams. Fatigue had made him sleep late; when he entered the sitting room he noticed that the old hair-cloth sofa was absent ; when he sat down to breakfast the Colonel tossed six or seven dollars in bills on the table, counted them over, said he was a little short and must call upon his banker ; then returned the bills to his wallet with the indilferent air of a man who is used to money. The breakfast was not an improvement upon tlie supper, but the Colonel talked it up and transformed it into an oriental feast. Bye and bye, he said: " I intend to look out for you, "Washington, my boy. I hunted up a place for you yesterday, but I am not referring to that, now — that is a mere liveliliood — mere bread and but- ter ; but when I say I mean to look out for you I mean some- thing very different. I mean to put things in your way thall will make a mere livelihood a trifling thing. I'll put you in a way to make more money than youll ever know what to do with. You'll be right here where I can put my hand on you .when anything turns up; I've got some prodigious opera- tions on foot ; but I'm keeping quiet ; mum's the word ; your old hand don't go around pow-wowing and letting every- body see his k'yards and find out his little game. But all in good time, Washington, all in good time. You'll see. Now there's an operation in corn that looks well. Some New York men are trying to get me to go into it — buy up all the growing crops and just boss the market when they mature — ah I tell you it's a great thing. And it only costs a trifle; two .nillions or two and a half will do it. I haven't exactly promised yet — there's no hurry — the more indifferent I seem, you know, the more anxious those fellows will get. And then there is the hog speculation — that's bigger still. We've got quiet men at work," [he was veiy impressive here,] "jnousing around, to get propositions out of all the farmers in the whole west and northwest for the hog crop, and other agents quietly getting propositions and terms out of all the manufactories — and don't you see, if we can get all the hogs THE HORSE TO BET ON. 85 and all the slaughter houses into our hands on the dead quiet — whew ! it would take three ships to carry the money. — I've looked into the thing — calculated all the chances for and all the chances against, and though I shake my head and hesitate and keep on thinking, apparently, I've got ray mind made up that if the thing can be done on a capital of six millions, that's the horse to put up money on ! Why "Washington — but what's the use of talking about it — any man can see that ^ ^.'. .^TO„ i y Wi '4 & .1 ^- igi r ' ■•;«. BIQ THINGS SHOWN UP. there's whole Atlantic oceans of cash in it, gulfs and bays thrown in. But there's a bigger thing than that, yet — a big- ger ■" "Why Colonel, you can't want anything bigger!" said Washington, his eyes blazing. " Oh, I wish I could go into cither of those speculations — I only wish I had money — I wish I wasn't cramped and kept down and fettered with pov- erty, and such prodigious cliances lying right here in sight i Oh, it is a fearful thing to be poor. But don't throw away those things — they are so splendid and I can see how sure 86 THE EOTHSCHILD'S PROPOSITION. they are. Don't throw them away for something still better and maybe fail in it ! I wouldn't, Colonel. I would stick to these. I wish father were here and were his old self again — Oh, he never in his life had such chances as tliese are. Colonel, you ca/rCt improve on these — no man can improve on them ! " A sweet, compassionate smile played about the Colonel's features, and he leaned over the table with the air of a man who is " going to show you " and do it without the least trouble : "Why Washington, my boy, these things are nothing. They look large — of course they look large to a novice, but to a man who has been all his life accustomed to large oper- ations — shaw ! They're well enough to while away an idle hour with, or furnish a bit of employment that -will give a trifle of idle capital a chance to earn its bread while it is waiting for something to do^ but — ^now just listen a moment — just let me give j^ou an idea of what we old veterans of commerce call ' business.' Here's the Hothschild's proposition — this is between you and me, you understand " Washington nodded three or four times impatiently, and his glowing eyes said, "Yes, yes — hurry — I under- stand " "for I wouldn't have it get out for a fortune. They want me to go in with them on the sly — agent was here two weeks ago about it — go in on the sly " [voice down to an im- pressive whisper, now,] " and buy up a hundred and thirteen wild cat banks in Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Illinois and Mis- souri — notes of these banks are at all sorts of discount now — average discount of the hundred and thirteen is forty-four per cent — buy them all up, you see, and then all of a sudden let the cat out of the bag ! Whiz ! the stock of every one of those vfildcats would spin up to a tremendous premium before you could turn a handspring — profit on the speculation not a dollar less than forty millions ! " [An eloquent pause, while the marvelous vision settled into W.'s focus.] " Where's your hogs now \ Why my dear innocent boy, we would just sit A SMALL IDEA. 87 down on the front door-steps and peddle banks like lucifer matches ! " Washington finally got his breath and said : "Oh, it is perfectly wonderful! Why couldn't these things have happened in father's day ? And I — it's of no use — they simply lie before my face and mock me. There is nothing for me but to stand helpless and see other people reap the astonishing harvest." " Never mind, Washington, don't you worry. I'll fix you. There's plenty of chances. How much money have you got?" f In the presence of so many millions, Washington could not < keep from blushing when he had to confess that he had but / eighteen dollars in the world. ^- " Well, all right — don't despair. Other people have been obliged to begin with less. I have a small idea that may de- velop into something for us both, all in good time. Keep your money close and add to it. I'll make it breed. I've been experimenting (tp pass away the time,) on a little pre- paration for curing sore eyes — a kind of decoction nine-tenths water and the other tenth drugs that don't cost more than a dollar a barrel ; I'm still experimenting ; the re's one ingre- dient wanted^j^Stto^pfirleetJia thing, and_soinehow I can't just manage to hit upon, the thing, thafs necessary, and I don't jare talk with a chemist, of course. ' But I'ln^-ogress- ing, and before many j^eeks I wager the _country will ring witElihe fa,aie JDf Beriah Sellers' Infallible Imperial Oriental Optic Linirnent and ..SaLviitioa for Sore JEyes-^-the^Medical Wonder oi the -Age! Small bottles fifty cents, large ones a dollar. Average cost, five, and seven cents for the two sizes. The first year sell, say, ten thousand bottles in Missouri, seven thousand in Iowa, three thousand in Arkansas, four thousand in Kentucky, six thousand in Illinois, and say twenty -five thousand in the rest of the country. Total, fifty- five thousand bottles ; profit clear of all expenses, twenty thousand dollars at the very lowest calculation. All the capital needed is to manufacture the first two thousand bottles 88 SALVATION FOK SORE EYES. — say a hundred and fifty dollars — then the money would begin to flow in. The second year, sales would reach 200,WQ bottles — clear profit, say, $75,000 — and in the meantime the great factory would be building in St. Louis, to coSt^' 'say, $100,000. The third year we could easily sell 1,000,000 bottles in the United States and " " O, splendid ! " said Washington. " Let's commence right away — let's- - 1,000,000 bottles in the United States— profit at least $350,000 — and then it would begin to be time to turn our attention toward the real idea of the business." "The real idea of it! Ain't $350,000 a year a pretty real " " Stuff ! Why what an infant you are, Washington — ^what a guileless, sliort-siglited, easily-contented innocent you are, my poor little country -bred know-nothing! Would I go to all that trouble and bother for the poor crumbs a body might pick up in tJiis country ? Now do I look like a man who — does my history suggest that I am a man who deals in trifles, contents himself with the narrow horizon that hems in the common herd, sees no further than the end of his nose ? Kow you know that that is not me — couldn't he me. You ought to know that if I throw my time and abilities into a patent medicine, it's a patent medicine whose field of oper- ations is the solid earth ! its clients the swarming nations that inhabit it ! Why what is the republic of America for an eye- water country? Lord bless you, it is nothing but a barren highway that you've got to cross to get to the true eye-water market 1 Why, Wash- ington, in the Oriental countries people swarm like the sands of the desert ; every square mile of ground upholds its thou- sands upon thousands of struggling human creatures — and every separate and individual devil of theim's got the ophthal- mia ! It's as natural to them as noses are — and sin. It's born with them, it stays with them, it's all that some of them have left when they die. Three years of introductory trade in the orient and what will be the result ? Why, our headquarters WASHINGTON FASCINATED. 89 would be in Constantinople and our hindquarters in Further India ! Factories and warehouses in Cairo, Ispahan, Bagdad, Dajnaseus, Jerusalem, Yedo, Peking, Bangkok, Delhi, Bom- bay and Calcutta ! Annual income — well, God only ' knows how many millions and inillions apiece ! " Washingtou was so dazed, so bewildered— his heart and his COL. SELLERS BLOWING BUBBLES FOR WASHINOTON. eyes had wandered so far away among the strange lands beyond the seas, and such avalanches of coin and currency had fluttered and jingled confusedly down before him, that he was now as one who has been whirling round and round for a time, and, stopping all at once, finds his surroundings still whirling and all objects a dancing chaos. However, little by little the Sellers family cooled down and crystalized into shape, and the poor room lost its glitter and resumed its poverty. Then the youth found his voice and begged Sellers to drop evei-ything and hurry up the eye-water ; and he got his eighteen dollars and tried td force it upon the Colonel — pleaded with him to take it — implored him to do it. But the Colonel would not ; said he would not need the capital (in his native magnificent way he called that eighteen dollars 90 L'P IN A BALLOOK. Capital) till the eje-water was an accomplished fact. He made Washington easy in his mind, though, by promising that he would call for it just as soon as the invention was finished, and lie added the glad tidings that nobody but just they two should be admitted to a shave in the speculation. When Washington left the breakfast table he could have worshiped that man. Washington was one of that kind of people whose hopes are in the very clouds one day and in the gutter the next. He walked on air, now. The Colonel was ready to take him around and introduce liim to the employ- ment he had found for him, but Washington begged for a few moments in which to write home ; with his kind of peo- ple, to ride to-day's new interest to death and put off yester- day's till another time, is nature itself. He ran up stairs and wrote glowingly, enthusiastically, to his mother about the hogs and the corn, the banks and the eye-water — and added a few inconsequential millions to each project. And he said that people little dreamed what a man Col. Sellers was, and ■that the world would open its eyes when it found out. And he closed his letter thus : "So make yourself perfectly easy, mother — in a little while you shall have everything you want, and more. I am not likely to stint yoa in anything, I fancy. This money will not be for me, alone, but for all of us. I want all to share alike; and there is going to be far more for each than one person can spend. Break it to father cautiously — you understand the need of that — break ■it to him cautiously, for he has had such cruel hard fortune, and is so stricken by it that great good news might prostrate him more surely than evenbad, for he is used to the bad but is grown sadly unaccustomed to the other. Tell Laura — tell all the children. And write to Clay about it if he is not with you yet. You may tell Clay that whatever I get he can freely share in— freely. He knows that that is true — there will be no need that I should swear to that to make him believe it. Good-bye — and miud what I say; Kest perfectly easy, one and all of you, for our troubles are nearly at an end." Poor lad, he could not know that his mother would cry some loving, compassionate tears over his letter and piKt ofi the family with a synopsis of its contents which conveyed a deal of love to them but not much idea of his prospects or projects. And he never dreamed that such a joyful letter could sadden her and fill her night with sighs, and troubled GENERAL BOSWELL. 91 thoughts, and bodings of the future, instead of filling it with peace and blessing it with restful sleep. When the letter was done, Washington and the Colonel sallied forth, and as they walked along Washington learned what he was to be. He was to be a clerk in a real estate office. Instantly the fickle youth's dreams forsook the magic eye-water and flew back to the Tennessee Land. And the gorgeous possibilities of that great domain straightway began to occupy his imagination to such a degree that lie could scarcely manage to keep even enough of his attention upon the Colonel's talk to retain the general run of what he was saying. Ho was glad it was a real estate office — he was a made man now, sure. The Colonel said that General Boswell was a rich man and had a good and growing business ; and that Washington's work would bo light and he would get forty dollars a month and be boarded and lodged in tlie General's family — which was -as good as ten dollars more ; and even better, for he could not live as well even at the " City Hotel " as he would (,L> L boswell's office. there, and yet the hotel charged fifteen dollars a month where a man had a good room. General Boswell was in his office ; a comfortable looking place, with plenty of outline maps hanging about the walls 92 LOOKS LIKE BUSINESS. and in the ■windows, and a spectacled man was marking ont another one on a long table. The office was in the principal street. The General received Washington with a kindly but reserved politeness. Washington rather liked his looks. He was about fifty years old, dignified, well preserved and well dressed. After the Colonel took his leave, the General talked a while with Washington — his talk consisting chiefly of instructions about the clerical duties of the place. He seemed satisfied as to Washington's ability to take care of the books, he was evidently a pretty fair theoretical book- keeper, and experience would soon harden theory into prac- tice. By and by dinner-time came, and the two walked to the General's house ; and now Washington noticed an instinct in himself that moved him to keep not in the General's rear, exactly, but yet not at his side — somehow the old gentleman's dignity and reserve did not inspire familiarity. CHAPTER IX. Quando ti veddi per la prima volta, Parse che mi s'aprisse il paradiso, E venissano gli angioli a un per volta Tntti ad apporsi soprani tuo bel viso, Tutti ad apporsi sopra il tuo bel volto, M'incatenasti, e non mi so'anco seiolto — Tsmolimi hoka, himak a yakni iloppct immi ha chi ho — Tajma kittSmamiDnt inndiziungnaerame, isikksene sinikbiDgmnn illi^j, an- - nerningserdlunilo siurdliuiinut piok. Mas. Agl. Siurdl. 49.32. WASHINGTON dreamed his way along the street, his fancy flitting from grain to hogs, from hogs to banks, from banks to eye-water, frpm eye-water to Tennessee Land, and lingering but a fevei-ish moment upon each of these fascinations. He was conscious of but one outward thing, to wit, the General, and he was really not vividly con- scious of him. ,1 Arrived at the finest dwelling in the town, they entered it and were at home. Washington was introduced to Mrs. Boswell, and his imagination was on the point of ilitting into the vapory realms of speculation again, when a lovely girl of sixteen or seventeen came in. This vision swept Washing- ton's mind clear of its chaos of glittering rubbish in an inr stant. Beauty had fascinated him before ; many times he had been in love — even for weeks at a time with the same object — but his heart had never suffered so sudden and so fierce an assault as this, within his recollection. Louise Boswell occupied his mind and drifted among his multiplication tables all the afternoon. He was constant^ catching himself in a reverie — reveries made iip of recalling how she looked when she first burst upon him ; how her voice thrilled him when she first spoke ; how charmed the very air seemed by her presence. Blissful as the afternoon was, de- livered up to such a revel as this, it seemed an eternity, so 93 94 FALLING IN LOVE. impatient was he to see the girl again. Other afternoons like it followed. Washington plunged into this love affair as he plunged into everything else — upon impulse and without re- flection. As the days went by it seemed plain that he was growing in favor with Louise, — not sweepingly so, but yet perceptibly, he fancied. His attentions to her troubled her father and mother a little, and they warned Louise, without stating particulars or making allusions to any special person, that a girl was sure to make a mistake who allowed herself to marry anybody but a man who could support her well. Some instinct taught Washington that his present lack of money would be an obstruction, though possibly not a bar, to his hopes, and straightway his poverty became a torture to him which cast all his former sufferings under that head into the shade. He longed for riches now as he had never longed for them before. He had been once or twice to dine with Col. Sellers, and had been discouraged to note that the Colonel's bill of fare was falling off both in quantity and quality — a sign, he feared, that the lacking ingredient in the eye-water still remained undiscovered — though Sellers always explained that these changes in the family diet had been ordered by the doctor, or suggested by some new scientific work the Colonel had stum- bled upon. But it always turned out that the lacking ingre- dient was still lacking — though it always appeared, at the same time, that the Colonel was right on its heels. Every time the Colonel came into the real estate office Washington's heart bounded and his eyes lighted with hope, but it always turned out that the Colonel was merely on the Bcent of some vast, undefined landed speculation — although he was customarily able to say that he was nearer to the all- necessary ingredient than ever, and could almost name the hour when success would dawn. And then Washington's heart would sink again and a sigh would tell when it touched bottom. About this time a letter came, saying that Judge Hawkins had been ailing for a fortnight, and was now considered to MISFORTUNES PROVE BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE. 95 be seriously ill. It was thought best that Washington should come home. The news filled him with grief, for he loved and honored his father ; the Boswells were touched by the youth's sorrow, and even the General unbent and said en- couraging things to him. — There was balm in this ; but when CONSOLATION. Louise bade him good-bye, and shook his hand and said, " Don't be cast down — it will all come out right — I Icnow it will all come out right," it seemed a blessed thing to be in misfortune, and the tears that welled up to his eyes were the messengers of an adoring and a grateful heart ; and when the girl saw them and answering tears came into her own eyes, Washington could hardly contain the excess of happi- ness that poured into the cavities of his breast that were so lately stored to the roof with grief. All the way home he nursed his woe and exalted it. He pictured himself as she must be picturing him: a noble, struggling young spirit persecuted by misfortune, but bravely and patiently waiting in the shadow of a dread calamity 96 NIGHT WATCHES. and preparing to meet the blow as became one who was all too used to hard fortune and the pitiless bnffetings of fate. These thoughts made him weep, and weep more broken- heartedly than ever ; and he wished that she could see his sufferings now. There M^as nothing significant in the fact that Louise, dreamy and distraught, stood at her bedroom bureau that night, scribbling " Washington " here and there over a sheet of paper. But there was something significant in the fact that she scratched the word out eveiy time she wrote it; examined the erasure critically to see if anybody could guess at what the word had been ; then buried it under a maze of obliterating lines ; and finally, as if still unsatisfied, burned the paper. "When Washington reached home, he recognized at once how serious his father's case was. The darkened room, the labored breathing and occasional moanings of the patient, the tip-toeing of the attendants and their whispered consulta- tions, were full of sad meaning. For three or four nights Mrs. Hawkins and Laura had been watching by the bedside ; Clay had arrived, preceding Washington by one day, and he was now added to the corps of watchers. Mr. Hawkins would have none but these three, though neighborly assist ance was ofiered by old friends. From this time forth three- hour watches were instituted, and day and night the watch- ers kept their vigils. By degrees Laura and her mother began to show wear, but neither of them would yield a minute of their tasks to Clay. — He ventured once to let the midnight hour pass without calling Laura, but he ventured no more; there was that about her rebuke when he tried to explain, that taught him that to let her sleep when she might be min- istering to her father's needs, was to rob her of moments that were priceless in her eyes ; he perceived that she regarded it as a privilege to watch, not a burden. And he had noticed, also, that when midnight struck, the patient turned his eyes toward the door, with an expectancy in them which presently grew into a longing but brightened into contentment as soon DEATH AT THE DOOR. 97 as the door opened and Laura appealed. And he did not ^need Laura's rebuke when he heard his father say : " Clay is good, and you are tired, poor child ; but I wanted you so." " Clay is not good, father — he did not call me. I would not have treated A^m so. How could you do it, Clay ? " Clay begged forgiveness and promised not to break faith- again ; and as he betook him to his bed, he said to himself, " It's a steadfast little soul ; whoever thinks he is doing the Duchess a kindness by intimating that she is not sufficient for any undertaking she pats her hand to, makes a mistake; and if I did not know it before, I know now that there are surer ways of pleasing her than by trying to lighten her labor when that labor consists in wearing herself out for the sake of a person she loves." A w#ek drifted, by, and all the while the patient sank lower and lower. The night drew on that was to end all suspense. It was a wintry one. The darkness gathered, the snow was falling, the wind \yailed plaintively about the house or shook it with fitful gusts. The doctor had paid his last visit and gone away with that dismal remark to the nearest friend of the family that he " belie\'ed there was nothing more that he could do " — a remark which is always overheard by some one it is not meant for and strikes a lingering half -conscious hope dead with a withering shock; the medicine phials, had been removed from tiie bedside and put out of sight, and all things made orderly and meet for the solemn event that was impend- ing; the patient, with closed eyes, lay scarcely breathing; the watchers sat by and wiped the gathering damps from his forehead while the silent teiirs flowed down their faces ; the deep hush was only interrupted by sobs from the children, grouped about the bed. After a time, — it was toward midnight now — Mr. Hawkins roused out of a doze, looked about him and was evidently trying to speak. Instantly Laura lifted his head and in a failing voice he said, while something of the old light shone in his eyes; "Wife — children — come nearer — nearer. The darkness 7- ,98 THE OLD TAITH STILL TRIUMPHANT. grows. Let me see joii all, once more." Tlie group closed together at the bedside, and their tears and sobs came now without restraint. "I am leaving yon in cnicl poverty. I have been — so foolish— so short-sighted. But courage i A better day is — is comino-. Never lose siirht of the Tennessee Land ! Be wary. There is M-ealth stored up for you there— wealth that is boundless ! The children shall hold up their heads with the best in the land, yet. Where arc the papers? — Have you got the papers safe ? Show them — show them to me ! " Under his strong excitement his voice had gathered power and his last sentences m' ere spoken with scarcely a perceptible halt or hindrance. With an effort he had raised himself almost without assistance to a sitting posture. But now the nil. DYING lATHLR fire faded out of his eyes and he fell back exhausted. The papers were brought and held before him, and the answering smile that flitted across his face showed that he was satisfied. He closed his eyes, and the signs of approaching dissolution ALL OVEE. 99 multiplied rapidly. He lay almost motionless for a little ■while, then suddenly partly raised his head and looked about him as one who peers into a dim uncertain light. He mut- tered : " Gone ? No — I see you— still. It is — it is — over. But you are — safe. Safe. The Ten " The voice died out in a whisper; the sentence was never finished. The emaciated fingers began to pick at the cover- let, a fatal sign. After a time there were no sounds but the cries of the mourners within and the gusty turmoil of the wind without. Laura had bent down and kissed her father's lips as the spirit left the body ; but she did not sob, or utter any ejaculation ; her tears flowed silently. Then she closed the dead eyes, and crossed the hands upon the breast ; after a season, she kissed the forehead reverently, drew the sheet up over the face, and then walked apart and sat down with the look of one who is done with life and has no further interest in its joja and sorrows, its hopes or its ambitions. Clay buried his face in the coverlet of the bed ; when the other children and the mother realized that death was indeed conie at last, they threw themselves into each others' arms and gave way to a frenzy of grief. CHAPTER X. — Okarbigdlo : " Kia pannigStit ? Aesarsara ! uamnut nevsoingoarna " — Mo. Agleg. Siurdl. 24. 23. Nootah nuttaunea, natwontash Kukkeihtash, wonk yeuyeu Wannanum kummissinninnumog Eak Koosh week pannuppu. — La Giannetta rispose : Madama, Toi dalla poverta di mio padre togliendomi, come figliuola cresciuta m'avete, e per questo agui Tostro piacer far dovrei — Boccacio, Decani. Giom. 2, Nov. 6. ONLY two or tliree days liad elapsed since the funeral, when something happened which was to change the drift of Laura's life somewhat, and influence in a greater or lesser degree the formation of her character. Maj-or Jiacldand had once been a man of note in the State — a man of extraordinary natural ability and as extraordinary learning. He had been universally trusted and honored in his day, but had finally fallen into misfortune ; while serving his third term in Congress, and while upon the point of being elevated to the Senate — which was considered the summit of earthly aggrandizement in those days — he had yielded to temptation, when in distress for money wherewith to save his estate, and sold his vote. His crime was discovered, and his fall followed instantly. Nothing could reinstate him in the confidence of the people, his ruin was irretrievable — Lis disgrace complete. All doors were closed against him, all men avoided him. After years of skulking retirement and dissipation, death had relieved him of his troubles at last, and his funeral followed close upon that of Mr. Plawkins. He died as he had latterly lived — wholly alone and friendless. He had no relatives — or if lie had they did not aeknow-ledge him. The coroner's jury found certain memoranda upon his 100 LAUBA SEARCHING FOE EVIDENCES OF HER BIRTH. SEARCH FOR A FATHER. 101 body and about the premises which revealed a fact not sus- pected by the villagers before — viz., that. Laura was not the child of Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins. The gossips were soon at work. They were but little hampered by the fact that the memoranda referred to betrayed nothing but the bare circumstance that Laura's real parents were unknown, and stopped there. So far from being hampered by this, the gossips seemed to gain all the more freedom from it. They supplied all the missing information themselves, they filled up all the blanks. The town soon teemed with histories of Laura's origin and secret history, no two versions precisely alike, but all elaborate, exhaustive, mysterious and interesting, and all agreeing in one vital par- ticular — -to wit, that there was a suspicious cloud about her birth, not to say a disreputable one. Laura began to encounter cold looks, averted' eyes and peculiar nods and gestures which perplexed her beyond measure ; but presently the pervading gossip found its way to her, and she understood them then. Her pride was stung. She was astcmished, and at first incredulous. She was about to ask her mother if tliere was any truth in these reports, but upon second tli ought held her peace. She soon gathered that Major Lackland's memoranda seemed to refer to letters which had passed between himself and Judge Hawkins. She shaped her course without difficulty the day that that hint reached her. That night she sat in her room till all was still, and then she stole into the garret and began a search. She rummaged long among boxes of musty papers relating to business mat- ters of no interest to her, but at last she found several bun- dles of letters. One bundle was marked "private," and in that she found what she wanted. She selected six or eight letters from the package and began to devour their contents, heedless of the cold. By the dates, these letters were from five to seven years old. They were all from Major Lackland to Mr. Hawkins. The substance of them was, that some one in the east had 102 WHO AM I ? been inquiring of Major Lackland about a lost child and its parents, and that it was conjectured that the child might be Laura. Evidently some of the letters were missing, for th^ name of the inquirer was not mentioned ; there was a casual refer- ence to " this handsome-featured aristocratic gentleman," as if the reader tad the writer were accustomed to speak of him and knew who was meant. In one letter the Major said he agreed with Mr. Hawkins that the inquirer seemed not altogether on the wrong track ; but he also agreed that it would be best to keep quiet until more convincing developments were forthcoming. Another letter said that " the poor soul broke completely down when he saw Laura's picture, and declared it must be she." Still another said, " He seemg entirely alone in the world, and his heart is so wrapped up in this thing that I believe that if it proved a false hope, it would kill him ; I have per- suaded him to wait a little while and go west when I go." Another letter had this paragraph in it : " He is better one day and worse the next, and is out of his mind a good deal of the time. Lately his case has developed a something which is a wonder to the hired nurses, but which will not be much of a marvel to you if you have read medical philosophy much. It is this : his lost memory returns to him when he is delirious, and goes away again when he is himself— just as old Canada Joe ilsed to talk the French patois of his boyhood in the delirium of typhus fever, though he could not do it when his mind was clear. Now this poor gentleman's memory has always broken down before he reached the explosion of the steamer; he could only remember starting up the river with his wife and child, and he had an idea that there was a race, but he was not certain ; he could not name the boat he was on ; there was a dead blank of a month or more that supplied not an item to his recollection. It was not for me to assist him, of course. But now in bis delirium it all comes out: the names of . the boats, every incident of the explosion, and likewise the details of his astonishing escape — that is, up to where, just as a yawl-boat was approaching him (he was clinging to the starboard wheel 6f the burning wreck at the time), a falling timber struck him on the head. But I will write out his wonderful escape in full to-morrow or next day. Of course the physicians will not let me tell him now that our Laura is indeed his child — that must come later, when his health is thoroughly restored. His case is not considered dangerous at all ; he will recover presently, the doctors say. But they insist that he must travel a little when he gets well — they recommend a MYSTERY AND EOMANCE. 103 •short sea voyage, and tlicy say he can be persuaded to try it if vre continue to keep him in ignorance and promise to let him see L. as soon as he returns." The letter that bore the latest date of all, contained this clause : " It is the most unaccountable thing in the world ; the mystery remains as impenetrable as ever ; I have hunted high and low for him, and inquired of every- body, but in vain ; all trace of him ends at that hotel in New Yorli ; I never have seen or heard of him since, up to this day; he could hardly have sailed, for his name does not appear upon the books of any shipping office in New York or Boston or Baltimore. How fortunate it seems, now, that we kept this thing to ourpelves; Laura still has a father in you, and it is better for her that we drop this subject here forever." |^ That was all. Random remarks h»e and there, being pieced together gave Laura a vague impression of a man of fine presence, about forty-three or forty-five years of age, with dark hair and eyes, and a slight limp in his walk — it was not stated which leg was defective. And this indistinct shadow represented her father. She made an exhaustive search for the missing letters, but found none. They had probably been burned ; and she doubted not that the ones she had ferreted out would have shared the same fate if Mr. Hawkins had not been a dreamer, void of method, whose ' mind was perhaps in a state of conflagration over some bright new speculation when he received them. She sat long, with the letters in her lap, thinking — and unconsciously freezing. She felt like a lost person who has traveled down a long lane in good hope of escape, and, just as the night descends finds his progress barred by a bridge- less river whose further shore, if it has one, is lost in the darkness. If she could only have found these letters a month sooner! That was her thought. But now the dead had .carried their secrets with them. A dreary melancholy set- tled down upon her. An undefined sense of injury crept into her heart. She grew very miserable. She had just reached the romantic age— rthe age when there is a sad sweetness, a dismal comfort to a girl to find out that there is a mystery connected with her birth, which no ©ther piece of good luck can afford. She had more than her lOi UNEXPECTEDLY A HEROINE. rightful share of practical good sense, but still she was human ; and to be human is to have one's little modicum of romance secreted away in one's composition. One never ceases to make a hero of one's self, (in private,) during life, but only alters the style of his heroism from time to time as the drifting years belittle certain gods of his admiration and raise up others in their stead that seem greater. The recent wearing days and nights of watching, and the wasting grief that had possessed her, combined with the pro- found depression tliat naturally came with the reaction of idleness, made Lailfla peculiarly susceptible at this time to romantic impressi^s. Slio was a heroine, now, with a mysterious fatlier somewhere. She could not really tell whether she wanted to find him and spoil it all or not; but still all the traditions of romance pointed to the making the attempt as the usual and necessaiy course to follow ; there- fore she wftuld some day begin the search when opportunity should offer. Now a former thought struck her — she would speak to Mrs. Hawkins. And naturally enougli Mrs. Hawkins ap- peared on the stage at that moment. She said she kncAV all — she knew that Laura had discov- ered the secret that Mr. Hawkins, the elder children, Col. Sellers and herself had kept so long and so faithfully ; and she cried and said that now that troubles had begun they would never end ; her daughter's love would wean itself away from her and her heart would break. Her grief so wrought upon Laura tliat the girl almost forgot her own troubles for the moment in her compassion for her motlier's distress. Finally Mrs. Llawkins said : " Speak to me, child — do not forsake me. Forget all this miserable talk. Say I am your mother ! — I have loved you so long, and there is no other. I am your mother, in the sight of God, and nothing shall over take you from me 1 " All barriers fell, before this appeal. Laura put her arms about her mother's neck and said : " Yon are my mother, and always shall be. We will be OLD TIES UNEUPTXTEED. 105 as we liave always been ; and neither this foolish talk nor any other thing shall part us or make us less to each other than we arc this hour." There was no longer any sense of separation or estrange- ment between them. Indeed their love seemed more perfect -%^^^^^^^^ now than it had ever been before. Ey and by they went down stairs and sat by the fire and talked long and earnestly about Laura's history and the letters. But it transpired that Mrs. Hawkins had never known of this correspondence between her husband and Major Lackland. With his usual consideration for his wife, Mr. Hawkins had shielded her from the worry the matter would have caused her. Laura went to bed at last with a mind that had gained largely in tranquility and had lost correspondingly in mor- bid romantic exaltation. She was pensive, the next day, and subdued ; but that was not matter for remark, for she did not differ from the mournful friends about her in that res- pect. Clay and "Washington were the same loving and admiring brothers now that they had always been. The 106 VILLAGE GOSSIP. great secret was new to some of the younger children, but their love suffered no change under the wonderful revelation. It is barely possible that things might have presently set- tled down into their old rut and the mystery have lost the bulk of its romantic sublimity in Laura's eyes, if the village gos- sips could have quieted down. But they could not quiet down and they did not. Day after day they called at the house, ostensibly upon visits of condolence, and they pumped away at the mother and the children without seeming to know that their questionings were in bad taste. They meant no harm — they only wanted to know. Villagers always want to know. The family fought shy of the questionings, and of course that was high testimony — " if the Duchess was respectably born, why didn't they come out and prove it? — why did they stick to that poor thin story about picking her up out of a steamboat explosion ? " Under this cK»seless:persecution, Laura's morbid self -com- muning was renewed. At night the day's contribution of detraction, innuendo and malicious conjecture would be can- vassed in her mind, and then she would drift into a course of thinking. As her thoughts ran on, the indignant tears would spring to her eyes, and she would spit out fierce little ejacu- lations at intervals. But finally she would grow calmer and say some comforting disdainful thing — something like this : "But who are they? — Animals! What are their opinions to me ? Let them talk — ^I will not stoop to be affected by it. I could hate Nonsense — nobody I care for or in any way respect is changed toward me, I fancy." She may have supposed she was thinking of many indi- viduals, but it was not so — she was thinking of only one. And her heart warmed somewhat, too, the while. One day a friend overheard a conversation like this : — and naturally came and told her all about it : " Ned, they say you don't go there any more. How is that?" " Well, I don't ; but I tell you it's not because I don't want to and it's not because J think it is any matter who her father was or who he wasn't, either ; it's only on account of SENTIMENT AND SAUSAGES. 107 this talk, talk, talk. I think she is a fine girl every vfa.j, and 60 would you if you knew her as well as I do ; but you know how it is when a girl once gets talked about — it's all up with her — ^the world won't ever let her alone, after that." The only comment Laura made upon this revelation, was : "Then it appears that if this trouble had not occurred I could have had the happiness of Mr. Ned Thurston's serious attentions. He is well favored in person, and well liked, too, I believe, and comes of one of the first families of the vil- lage. He is prosperous, too, I hear; has been a doctor a year, now, and has had two patients — no, three, I think; yes, it was three. I attended their funerals. Well, other people have hoped and been disappointed ; I am not alone in that. I wish you could stay to dinner, Maria — we are going to have sausages; and besides, I wanted to talk to you about Hawk- eye and make you promise to come and see us when we are settled there." But Maria could not stay. She had come to mingle roman- tic tears with Laura's over tlie lover's defection and had found herself dealing with a heart that could not rise to an appre- ciation of, affliction because its interest was all centred in sausages. But as soon as Maria was gone, Laura stamped her expres- sive foot and said : " The cowardj Are all books lies ? I thought he would fly to the front, and be^brave and noble, and stand up for me against' all the world, and defy my enemies, and witlier these gossips with his scorn ! Poor crawling thing, let him go. I do begin to despise this world ! " She lapsed into thought. Presently she said : " If the time ever comes, and I get a chance, Oh, I'll " She could not find a word that was strong enough, perhaps. By and by she said : " Well, I am glad of it — I'm glad of it. I never cared anything for him anyway ! " And then, with small consistency, she cried a little, and ^patted her foot more indignantly than ever. CHAPTER XI. i" h^^hh^^h < Two months had gone by and the Hawkins family were domiciled in Hawkeye. Washington was at work in the real estate office again, and was alternately in paradise or the other place just as it happened that Louise was gracious to liim or seemingly indifferent — because indifference or pre- nocupation could mean nothing else than that she was think- ing of some other young person. Col. Sellers had asked him several times, to dine with him, when he first returned to Hawkeye, but Washington,, for no particular reason, had not accepted. No particular reason except one which he preferred to Iceep to himself — viz. that he could not bear to be away from Louise. It occurred to him, now, that "the Colonel had not invited him lately — could he be offended ? He resolved to go that very day, and give the Colonel a pleasant surprise. It was a good idea ; especially as Louise had absented herself from breakfast that morning, and torn his heart ; he would tear hers, now, and let her see how it felt. The Sellers family were jiist starting to dinner when Washington burst upon tliem with his surprise. For an instant the Colonel looked nonplussed, and just a bit imcom- fortable ; and Mrs. Sellers looked actually distressed ; but the next moment the head of the house was himself again, and exclaimed : " All right, my boy, all right — always glad to see you— - 108 A DINNER PARTY. 109 always glad to liear your voice and take you by the hand. Don't wait for special invibations — that's all nonsense among friends. Just come whenever you can, and come as often as you can — the oftener the better. You can't please us any better than that, Washington ; the little woman will tell you so herself. We don't pretend to style. Plain folks, you know — plain folks. Just a plain family dinner, but such as it is, our friends are always welcome, I reckon you know that yourself, Washington. Kan along, children, run along ; Lafayette,* stand off the cat's tail, child, can't you see what you're doing? — Come, come, come, Eoderick Dhu, it isn't nice for little boys to hang onto young gentlemen's coat tails — ^but neyer mind him, Washington, he's fall of spirits and don't mean any harm. Children will be children, you know. ^Take the chair next to Mrs. Sellers, Washington — tut, tut, Marie Antoinette, let your brother have the fork if he wants it, you are bigger than he is." Washington conteniplated the banquet, and wondered if he were in his right mind. Was this the plain family dinner ? And was it all present ? It was soon apparent that this was indeed the dinner : it was all on the table : it consisted of abundance of clear, fresh water, and a basin of raw turnips — nothing more. Washington stole a glance at Mrs. Sellers's face, and would have given the world, the next moment, if he could have spared her that. The poor woman's face was crimson, and the tears stood in her eyes. Washington did not know what to do. He wished he had never come there and spied out this cruel poverty and brought pain to that poor little lady's heart and shame to her cheek ; but he was there, and there was no escape. Col. Sellers hitched back his coat *In those old days the average man called his children after his most revered literary and historical idols ; consequently there was hardly a family, at least in the West, but had a Washington in it — and also a Lafayette, a Franklin, and six or eight sounding names from Byron, Scott, and the Bible, if the offspring held out. To visit such a family, was to find one's self confronted by a congress made up of representatives of the imperial myths and the majestic dead of all the ages. There was something thrilling about it, to a stranger, not to say awe inspiring. 110 PLAIN I-OOD AND NO EMBELLISHMENTS. sleeves airily from his wrists as who should say "ifow for solid enjoyment ! " seized a fork, flourished it and began to harpoon turnips and deposit them in the plates before him : " Let mo help you, Washington — Lafayette pass this plate to Washington — ali, well, well, my boy, things are lookiag A HEALTHY JIEAL. pretty bright, now, / tell you. Speculation — my ! the whole atmosphere's full of money. I would'nt take three fortunes for one little operation I've got on hand now — have anything from the casters? No? Well, you're right, you're right. Some people like mustard with turnips, but — now there was Baron Poniatowski — Lord, but that man did know how to live 1 — true Eussian jov. know, Russian to the back bone; I say to my wife, give me a Eussian every time, for a table comrade. The Baron used to say, ' Take mustard. Sellers, try the mustard, — a man can't know what turnips are in perfection without mustard, ' but I always said, ' No, Baron, I'm a plain man, and I want my food plain — none of your embellishments for Beriah Sellers — no made dishes for EARLY MALCOMB TUKNIPS. Ill me ! And it's tlie best way — high living kills more than it cures in this world, you can rest assured of that. — Yes indeed, Washington, I've got one little operation on hand that — take some more water — help yourself, won't you? — help' yourself, there's plenty of it. — You'll find it pretty good, I guess. How does that fruit stiike you ? " Washington said he did not know that he had ever tasted better. He did not add that he detested turnips even when they were cooked— loathed them in their natural state, liio, he kept this to himself, and praised the turnips to the peril of his ,sonl. " I thought you'd like them. Examine them — examine them — they'll bear it. See how perfectly firm and juicy they are — they can't start any like them in this part -of the coun- try, I can tell you. These are from ISTew Jersey — I imported them myself. They cost like sin, too ; but lord bless me, I go 'in for having the best of a thing, even if it does cost a lit- tle more — its the best economy, in- the long run. These are the Early Malcolm — it's a turnip that can't be produced except in just one orchard, aiid the supply never is up to the demand. Take some more water, Washington — you can't drink too much water with fruit — all the doctors say that. The plagire can't come where this article is, my boy !" " Plague ? What plague ?" "What plague, inde,ed? Why the Asiatic plague that uearly depopulated London a couple of centuries ago." " But how does that concern us ? There is no plague here, JL reckon." " Sh ! I've let it out ! Well, never mind — just keep it to yourself. Perhaps I oughtn't said anything, but its iound to come out sooner or later, so what is the odds ? Old McDow- ells wouldn't like me to — to — bother it all, I'll just tell the whole thing and let it go. You see, I've been down to St. Louis, and I happened to run across old Dr. McDowells — thinks the world of me, does the doctor. Pie's a man that keeps himself to himself, and well he may, for he knows that he's got a reputation that covers the whole earth — he won't condescend to open himself out to many people, but lord bless 112 HOW TO PREVENT THE PLAGUE. you, lie and I are just like brothers ; he won't let me go to a hotel when I'm in the city — says I'm the only man that's company to him, and I don't know but there's some truth in it, too, because although I never like to glorify myself and make a great to-do over what I am or what I can do or what I know, I don't mind saying here among friends that I am better read up in most sciences, maybe, than the general run of professional men in these days. "Well, the other day he let me into a little secret, strictly on the quiet, about this matter of the plague. "You see it's booming right along in our direction — follows the Gulf Stream, you know, just as all those epidemics do, — and within three months it will be just waltzing through this land like a whirlwind ! And whoever it touches can make his will and contract for the funeral. Well you can't cure it, you know, but you can prevent it. How ? Turnips ! that's it ! Turnips and water ! Nothing like it in the world, old McDowells says, just fill yourself up two or three times a day, and you can snap your finger& at the plague. Sh ! — keep mum, but just you confine yourself to that diet and you're all right. I wouldn't have old McDowells know that I told about it for anything — »lie never would speak to me again. Take some more water, Washington — the more water you drink, the . better. Here, let me give you some more of the turnips. No, no, no, now, I insist. There, now. Absorb those. They're mighty sustaining — brim full of nutriment — all the medical books say so. Just eat from four to seven good-sized turnips at a meal, and drink from a pint and a half to a quart of water, and then just sit around a couple of hours and let them ferment. You'll feel like a fighting cock next day." Fifteen or twenty miimtes later the Colonel's tongue was still chattering away — he had piled up several future fortunes out of several incipient " operations " which he had blundered into within the past week, and was now soaring along through some brilliant expectations born of late promising experiments upon the lacking ingredient of the eve-water. And at such a time Washington ouglit to have been a rapt and enthusi- astic listener, but he was not, for two matters disturbed his EFFECTS OF THE TURNIPS. 113 mind and distracted his attention. One was, that he dis- covered, to his confusion and shame, that in allowing himself to be helped a second time to the turnips, he had robbed those hungry children. He had not needed the dreadful " fruit," and had not wanted it ; and when he saw the pathetic sorrow in their faces when thej' asked for more and there was no more to give them, he hated himself for his stupidity and pitied the famishing young things with all his heart. The other matter that disturbed him was the dire inflation that had begun in his stomach. It grew and grew, it became more and more insupportable. Evidently the turnips were " fermenting." He forced himself to sit still as long as he could, but his anguish conquered him at last. He rose in the midst of the Colonel's talk and excused him- self on the plea of a previous engagement. The Colonel followed him to the door, promising over and over again tliat he would use his influence to get some of the Early Malcolms for him, and insisting that he should not be such a sti'anger but come and take pot-luck with him every chance he got. Washington was glad enough to get away and feel free again. He immediately bent his steps toward home. In bed he passed an hour that threatened to turn his hair gray, and then a blessed calm settled down upon him that filled his heart with gratitude. Weak and languid, he made shift to turn himself about and seek rest and sleep ; and as his soul hovered upon the brink of unconciousness, he heaved a long, deep sigh, and said to himself that in his heart he had cursed the Colonel's preventive of rheumatism, before, and now let the plague come if it must — ^he was done with pre- ventives ; if ever any man beguiled him with turnips and water again, let him die the death. If he dreamed at all that night, no gossiping spirit disturbed his visions to whisper in his ear of certain matters just then in bud in the East, more than a thousand miles away that after the lapse of a few years would develop influences which would profoundly affect the fate and fortunes of the Hawkins family, 8- CHAPTER XII, 1^ — V r ^ r Todtenb. 141. IV, 4. 4i C\}^^ ^*'''^ "^^y enough to make a fortune," Henry said. \J " It seems to be easier than it is, I begin to think," replied Philip. " Well, why don't you go into something ? You'll never dig it out of the Astor Library." If there be any place and time in the world where and when it seems easy to " go into something " it is in Broadway on a spring morning, when one is walking city-ward, and has before him the long lines of palace-shops with an occasional spire seen through the soft haze that lies over the lower town, and hears the roar and hum of its multitudinous traffic. To the young American, here or elsewhere, the paths to fortune are innumerable and all open ; there is invitation in the air and success in all his wide horizon. He is embarrassed which to choose, and is not unlikely to waste years in dally- ing with his chances, before giving himself to the serious tug and strain of a single object. He has no traditions to bind him or guide him, and his impulse is to break away from the occupation his father has followed, and make a new way \^for himself. "~^%i4i{L _Sterlin g used to say that if he should seriously set himself for ten years to any one of the dozen projects that were in his brain, he felt that he could be a rich man. He wanted to be rich, he had a sincere desire for a fortune, but for some unaccountable reason he hesitated about addressing himself to the narrow work of getting it. He never walked Broadway, a part of its tide-, of abundant shifting life, 114' FOOT LIGHTS AND MUSIC. 115 without feeling something of the flush of wealth, and uncon- sciously taking tlie elastic step of one well-to-do in this prosperous world. Especially at night in the crowded theatre — Philip was too young to remember the old Chambers' Street box, where the serious Burton led his hilarious and pagan crew — in the inter- vals of the screaming comedy, when the orchestra scraped and grunted and tooted its dissolute tunes, the world seemed ^. full of opportunities to Philip, and his heart exulted with a conscious ability to take any of its prizes he chose to pluck. Perhaps it was the swimming ease of the acting on 'the stage, where virtue had its reward in three easy acts, perhaps it was the excessive light of the liouse, or the music, or the buzz of the excited talk between acts, perhaps it was youth which believed everything, but for some reason while Philip PiUHP AT THJ5ATI E was at the theatre he had the titmost confidence in life and his ready victory in it. Delightful illusion of paint and tinsel and silk attire, of cheap sentiment and high and mighty dialogue ! "Will there 116 PHILIP STERLING, not always be rosin enough for the squeaking fiddle-bow? Do we not all like the maudlin hero, who is sneaking round the' right entrance, in wait to steal the pretty wife of his rich and tyrannical neighbor from the paste-board cottage at the left entrance ? and when he advances down to the foot-lights and defiantly informs the audience that, "he who lays his hand on a woman except in the way of kindness," do we not all applaud so as to drown the rest of the sentence ? Philip never was fortunate enough to hear what would become of a man who should lay his hand on a woman with the exception named ; but he learned afterwards that the woman who lays her hand on a man, without any exception whatsoever, is always acquitted by the jury. The fact was, though Philip Sterling did not know it, that he W'anted several other things quite as much as he wanted wealth. The modest fellow would have liked fame thrust upon him for some worthy achievement ; it might be for a book, or for the skillful management of some great newspaper, or for some daring expedition like that of Lt. Strain or Dr. Kane. He was unable to decide exactly what it should be. Sometimes he thought he would like to stand in a conspicuous pulpit and humbly preacli the gospel of repentance ; and it even crossed his mind that it would be noble to give himself to a missionary life to some benighted region, Avhere the date- palm grows, and the nightingale's voice is in tune, and the bnl-bul sings on the off nights. If he were good enough he would attach himself to that company of young men in the Theological Seminary, who were seeing is'ew York life in preparation for the ministry. Philip was a New England boy and had graduated at Yale ; he had not carried off with him all the learning of that venerable institution, but he knew some things that were not in the regular course of study. A very good use of the English language and considerable knowledge of its literature was one of them ; he could sing a song very well, not in time to be sure, but with enthusiasm; he could make a magnetic speech at a moment's notice in the class room, the debating AN EXCELLENT LAW CLEKK. 117 society, or upon any fence or dry-goods box that was con- venient ; he could lift himself by one arm, and do the giant swing in the gymnasium ; lie could strike out from his left WHAT PHILIP LEARNED AT COLLEGE. shoulder ; he conld handle an oar like a professional and pull ' stroke in a winning race. Philip had a good appetite, a sun- ny temper, and a clear hearty laugh. He had brown hair, hazel eyes set wide apart, a broad but not high forehead, and a fresh winning face. He was six , feet high, with broad shoulders, long legs and a swinging gait ; one of those loose- jointed, capable fellows, who saunter into the world with a free air and usually make a stir in whatever company they enter. After he left college Philijf took the advice of friends and read law. Law seemed to him well enough as a science, but he never could discover a practical case where it appeared to him worth while to go to law, and all the clients who stopped with this new clerk in the ante-room of the law ofBce where he was writing, Pliilip invariably advised to settle — no matter how, but settle — greatly to the disgust of his employer, who knew that justice between man and man could only be attain- ed by the recognized processes, with the attendant fees. Besides Philip hated the copying of pleadings, and he was certain that a life of " whereases " and " aforesaids " and whipping the devil round the stump, would be intolerable. His pen therefore, and whereas, and not as aforesaid, strayed off into other scribbling. In an unfortunate hour, he had two or three papers accepted by first-class magazines, at three dollars the printed page, and, behold, his vocation was open to him. He would make his mark in literature. 118 LITERAKY WORK. Life has no moment so sweet as that in which a young man believes himself called into the immortal ranks of the mas- ters of literature. It is such a noble ambition, that it is a pity it has usually such a shallow foundation. At the time of this history, Philip had gone to New York for a career. With his talent he thought he should have little difiBculty in getting an editorial position upon a metro- politan newspaper ; not that he knew anything about news- paper work, or had the least idea of journalism ; he knew he was not fitted for the technicalities of the subordinate depart- ments, but he could write leaders with perfect ease, he was sure. The drudgery of the newspaper office was too distaste- ful, and besides it Avould be beneath the dignity of a graduate and a successful magazine writer. He wanted to begin at the top of the ladder. To his surprise he found that every situation in the edito- rial department of the, journals was full, always had been full, was always likely to be full. It seemed to him that the newspaper managers didn't want genius, but mere plodding and grubbing. Philip therefore read diligently in the Astor library, planned literary works that should compel attention, and nursed his genius. He hkd no friend wise enough to tell him to step into the Dorking Convention, then in session, make a sketch of the men and women on the platform, and take it to the editor of the Daily Grapevine, and see what he could get a line for it. One day he had an offer from some country friends, who believed in him, to take charge of a provincial daily news- paper, and he went to consult Mr. Gringo — Gringo who years ago managed the Atlas — about taking the situation. "Take it of course," says Gringo, take anything that offers, why not ? " " But they want me to make it an opposition paper." " Well, make it that. That party is going to succeed it's going to elect the next president." "I don't believe it," said Philip, stoutly, "its wrong in principle, and it ought not to succeed, but A NEW DOOR OPENS. 119 I don't see how I can go for a thiyg I don't believe in." " O, very well," said Gringo, turning away with a shade of contempt, " you'll find if you are going into literature and newspaper, work that you can't aflPord a conscience like that." But Philip did afford it, and he wrote, thanking his friends, and declining because he said the political scheme would fail, and ought to fail. And he went back to his books and to his waiting for an opening large enough for his dignified entrance into the literary world. It was in this time of rather impatient waiting that Philip was one morning walking down Broadway with Henry Brierly. He frequently accompanied Henry part way down town to what the latter called his ofiice in Broad Street, to which he went, or pretended to go, with regularity every day. It was evident to the most casual acqiiaintance that he was a man of afi"airs, and that his time was engrossed in the largest sort of operations, about which there was a mysterious air. His liability to be suddenly summoned to "Washington, or Boston or Montreal or even to Liverpool was always immi- nent. He never was so summoned, but none of his acquaint- ances would have been surprised to hear any day that he had gone to Panama or Peoria, or to hear from him that he had bought the Bank of Commerce. The two were intimate at that time,^ — they had been class- mates — and saw a great deal of each other. Indeed, they lived together in Ninth Street, in a boarding-house there, which had the honor of lodging and partially feeding several other young fellows of like kidney, who have since gone their several ways into fame or into obscurity. It was during the moi-ning walk to which reference has been made that Henry Brierly suddenly said, " Philip, how would you like to go to St. Jo ? " " I think I should like it of all things," replied Philip, with some hesitation, " but what for." " Oh, its a. big operation. We are going, a lot of us, rail- road men, engineers, contractors. You know my uncle is a 120 GO WEST YOUNG MAN. great railroad man. I've no doubt I can get you a chance to go if you'll go." " But in what capacity would I go ? " " Well, I'm going as an engineer. You can go as one." " I don't know an engine from a coal cart." " Field engineer, civil engineer. You can begin by carry- ing a rod, and putting down the figures. It's easy enough. I'll show you about that. We'll get Trautwine and some of those books." " Yes, but what is it for, what is it all about ? " " Why don't you see ? We lay out a line, spot the good land, enter it up, know where the stations are to be, spot them, buy lots ; there's heaps of money in it. We wouldn't engi- neer long." " When do you go ?" was Philip's uext question, after some moments of silence. " To-morrow. Is that too soon ?" " JSTo, its not too soon. I've been ready to go anywhere for six months. The fact is, Henry, that I'm about tired of trying to force myself into things, and am quite willing to try floating with the stream for a while, and see where I will land. This seems like a providential call ; it's sudden enough." The two young men who were by this time full of the adventure, went down to the Wall street ofSce of Henry's uncle and had a talk with that wily operator. The uncle knew Philip very well, and was pleased with his frank enthu- siasm, and willing enough to give him a trial in the western ■venture. It was settled therefore, in the prompt way in which things are settled in New York, that they would start with the rest of the company next morning for the west. On the way up town these adventurers bought books on engineering, and suits of India-rubber, which they supposed they would need in a new and probably damp country, and many other things which nobody ever needed anywhere. The night was spent in packing up and writing letters, for Philip would not take such an important step without inform- ing his friends. If they disapprove, thought he, I've done my duty by letting them know. Happy youth, that is ready PACKING AND LETTER WRITING. 121 to pack its valise, and start for Cathay on an hour's notice. "By the way," calls out Philip from his bed-room, to Henry, " where is St. Jo. 1" " Why, it's in Missouri somewhere, on the frontier I think. We'll get a map." " Never mind the map. We will find the place itself. I was afraid it was nearer home." Philip wrote a long letter, first 'of all, to his mother, full of love and glowing anticipations of his new opening. He wouldn't bother her with business details, but he hoped that the day was not far off when she would see him return, with a mod- erate fortune, and something to add to the comfort of her advancing years. To his uncle he said that he had made an arrangement with some ISTew York capitalists to go to Missouri, in a land and railroad operation, which would at least give him a knowl- edge of the world and not unlikely offer him a business open- ing. He knew his uncle would be glad to hear that he had at last turned his thoughts to a practical matter. It was to ^Kuth Bolton that Philip wrote last. He might never see her againT"^ went to seek his fortune. He well knew the perils of the frontier, the savage state of society, the lurking Indians and the dangers of fever. But there was no real danger to a person wlio took care of himself. Might he write to her often and tell her of his life. If he returned with a fortune, perhaps and perhaps. If he was unsuccess- ful, or if he never returned — perhaps it would be as well. No time or distance, however, would ever lessen his interest in her. He would say good-night, but not good-bye. In the soft beginning of a Spring morning, long before New Tork had breakfasted, while yet the air of expectation hung about the wharves of the metropolis, our young adven- turers made their way to the Jersey City railway station of the Erie road, to begin the long, swinging, crooked journey, over what a gg ter of a former day cal led a causeway of cracked rails and cows, to the West! ~- ■ — ' l)/A' CHAPTER XIII. What ever to say he toke in his entente, his langage was so fayer & pertynante, yt semeth vnto manys herying not only the worde, but veryly the thyng. Caxton's Book of Curteaye. I'N the party of whicli our travelers found themselves mem- bers, was liufE Brown, the great railroad contractor, and subsequently a weltlSnown member of congress; a bluff, jovial Bost'n man, thick-set, close shaven, with a heavy jaw and a low forehead — a very pleasant man if you were not in his way. He had government contracts also, custom houses and dry docks, from Portland to 'New Orleans, and managed to get out of congress, in approprjatj ops, aiiQut;ge^jit^for:sj^ight of goldfo i- the stone f urnished. ~Sssoeiated with him, and also of this party, was Scdagy Scha ick, a sleek New York broker, a man as prominent in thecEurch as in the stock exchange, dainty in his dress, smooth of speech, the necessary complement of Duff Brown in any enterprise that needed assurance and adroitness. It would be difficult to find a pleasanter traveling party, one that shook off more readily the artificial restraints of Puritanic strictness, and took the world with good-natured allowance. Money was plenty for every attainable luxury, and there seemed to be no doubt that its supply would con- tinue, and that fortunes were about to be made without a great deal of toil. Even Philip soon caught the prevailing 122 PKECAUTIOXS AGAINST BEIKG POISONED BY WATER. 123 spirit ; Harry did not need any inoculation, lie always talked in six figures. It was as natural for the dear boy to be rich as it is for most people to be poor. The elders of the party were not long in discovering the fact, which almost all travelers to the west soon find out, that the water was poor. It must have been by a lucky pTemoni- tion of this that they all had brandy flasks with which to qualify the water of the country ; and it was no doubt from an uneasy feeling of the danger of being poisoned that they kept experimenting, mixing a little of the dangerous and clianging fluid, as they passed along, with the contents of the flasks, thus saving their lives hour by hour. Philip learned afterwards that temperance and the strict observance of Sun- day and a certain gravity of deportment are geographical habits, which people do not usually carry with them away from home. Our travelers stopped in Chica go long en Qugliiq-aae Ihat thgy could make^tlieirj ortunes t here in two week's timp^nf: it-did__n.oL-seem,. worth.. wliilgj^the west was more attractive; the further one went the wider the opportunities openedT" They took railroad to Alton and the steamboat from thei-e to St. Louis, for the change and to have a glimpse of the river. " Isn't this jolly ?" cried Henry, dancing out of the barber's room, and coming down the deck with a one, two, three step, sliaven, curled and perfumed after his usual exquisite fashion. " What's jolly ? " asked Philip, looking out upon the dreary and monotonous waste through which the shaking steamboat was coughing its way. " Why, the whole thing ; it's immense I can tell you. I wouldn't give that to be guaranteed a hundred thousand cold cash in a year's time." " Where's Mr. Brown ? " " He is in the saloon, playing poker with Schaick, and that long haired party with the striped trousers, who scrambled aboard when the stage plank was half hauled in, and the big Delegate to Congress from out west." " That's a fine looking fellow, that delegate, with his glossy 124 A GAME OF POKEE MADE INTERESTING. black whiskers ; looks like a Washington man ; I shouldn't think he'd be at poker." " Oh, its only five cent ante, just to make it interesting, the Delegate said." " But I shouldn't think a representative in Congress would play poker any way in a public steamboat." " Nonsense, you've got to pass the time. I tried a hand myself, but those old fellows are too many for me. The I' 111 'S,x -,«»*%■ -^ Ijiif THE delegate's INTERESTIXG GAME. Delegate knows all the points. I'd bet a hundred dollars he will ante his way right into the United States Senate when his territory comes in. He's got the cheek for it." " He has the grave and thoughtful manner of expectoration of a public man, for one thing," added Philip. " Harry," said Philip, after a pause, " what have you got on those big boots for ; do you expect to wade ashore ? " " I'm breaking 'em in." The fact was Harry had got himself up in what he thought a proper costume for a new country, and was in appearance THE PARTY IN ST. LOUIS. 125 a sort of compromise between a dandy of Broadway and a backwoodsman. Harry, M'itli blue eyes, fresh complexion, silken whiskers and curly chestnut hair, was as handsome as a fashion plate. He wore this morning a soft hat, a short cut- away coat, an open vest displaying immaculate linen, a leath- ern belt round his waist, and top-boots of soft leather, well polished, that came above his knees and required a string attached to his belt to keep them np. The light hearted fellow gloried in these shining encasements of his well shaped legs, and told Philip that they were a perfect protection against prairie rattle-snakes, which never strike above the knee. The landscape still wore an almost wintry appearance when our travelers left Chicago. It was a genial spring day when they landed at St. Louis ; the birds were singing, the blossoms of peach trdtes in city garden plots, made the air sweet, and in the roar and tumult on the long river levee they fonnd an excitement that accorded with their own hopeful anticipations. The party went to the Southern Hotel, where the great Duff Brown was very well linown, and indeed was a man of so much importance that even the office clerk was respectful to him. He might have respected in him also a certain vul- gar swagger and insolence of money, which the clerk greatly admired. The young fellows liked the house and liked the city ; it seemed to them a mighty free and hospitable town. Coming from the East they were struck with many peculiarities. Everybody smoked in the streets, for one thing, they noticed ; everybody " took a drink " in an open manner whenever he wished to do so or was asked, as if the habit needed no con. cealment or apology. In the evening when they walked about they found people sitting on the door-steps of their dwellings, in a manner not usual in a northern city ; in front of some of the hotels and saloons the side walks were filled with chairs and benclies — Paris fashion, said Harry — upon which people lounged in these warm spring evenings, smoking, 126 HARKY AS AN ENGIlsrEEE always smoking; and the -clink of glasses and of billiard balls was in the air. It was delightful. Harry at once found.' on landing that his back-woods^ ens- torn would not be needed in St. Louis, and that, in fact, he had need of all the resources of his wardrobe to keep even with the young swells of the town. But this did not much matter, for Harry was always superior to his clothes. As they ,were likely to be detained some time in the city, Harry told Philip that he was going to improve his time. And he did. It was an encouragement to any industrious man to see this young fellow rise, carefully dress himself, eat his break- fast deliberately, smoke his cigar tranquilly, and then repair to his room, to what he called his work, with a grave and occupied manner, but with perfect cheerfulness. Harry would take off his coat, remove his cravat, roll tip his shirt-sleeves, give his curly hair the right touch before the glass, get out his book on engineering, his boxes of instru- ments, his drawing-paper, his profile paper, open the book of logarithms, mix his India ink, sharpen his pencils, light a cigar, and sit down at the table to " lay out a line," with the most grave notion that he was mastering the details of engi- neering. He would spend half a day in these preparations without ever working out a problem or having the faintest conception of the use of lines or logarithms. And when he had finished, he had the most cheerful confidence that he had done a good day's work. It made, no difference, however, whether Harry was in" his room in a hotel or in a tent, Philip soon found, he was just the same. In camp he would get himself up in the most elaborate toilet at his command, polish his long boots to the top, lay out his woi'k before him, and spend an hoitr or longer, if anybody was looking at him, humming airs, knitting his brows, and " working " at engineering ; and if a crowd of gaping rustics were looking on all the while it was perfectly satisfac- tory to him. " You see," he says to Philip one morning at the hotel when he was thus engaged, " I want to get the theory of this MYSTERY AND EOMANCE. 127 tiling, so that I can have a check on the engineers." " I thought you were going to be an engineer yourself," queried Philip. "Not many times, if the court knows herself. There's better game. Erown and Schaiek have, or will have, the control for the whole line of the Salt Lick Pacific Extension, forty thousand dollars a mile over the prairie, with extra for • hard-pan — and it'll be pretty much all hard-pan I can tell you ; besides every alternate section of land on this line. There's millions in the job. I'm to have the sub-contract for the, first fifty miles, and you can bet it's a soft thing." " I'll tell you what you do, Philip," continued Harry, in a burst of generosity, " if I don't get you into my contract, you'll be with the engineers, and you just stick a stake at the first ground marked for a dSpot, buy the land of the farmer before he knows where the depot will be, and we'll turn a hundred or so on that. I'll advance the money for the pay- ments, and you can sell the lots. Schaiek is going to let me have ten thousand just for a flyer in such operations." " But that's a good deal of money." " Wait till you are used to handling money. I didn't come out here for a bagatelle. My uncle wanted me to stay East and go in on the Mobile custom house, work up the "Wash- ington end of it ; he said there was a fortune in it for a smart young fellow, but I preferred to take the chances out here. Did I tell you I had an offer from Bobbett and Fanshaw to go iftto their office as confidential clerk on a salary of ten thousand ?" " "Why didn't you take it ?" asked Philip, to whom a sal- ary of two thousand would have seemed wealth, before he started on this journey. " Take it ? I'd rather operate on my own hook," said Harry, in his most airy manner. A few evenings after their arrival at the Southern, Philip and Harry made the acquaintance of a very agreeable gentle- man, whom they had frequently seen before about the hotel cor- ridors, and passed a casual word with. He had the air of a 128 A VALUABLE ACQUAINTANCE MADE. man of business, and was evidently a person of importance. The precipitating of this casual intercourse into the more substantial form of an acquaintanceship was the work of the gentleman himself, and occurred in this wise. Meeting the two friends in the lobby one evening, he asked them to give liim the time, and added : " Excuse me, gentlemen— strangers in St. Louis ? Ah, yes — yes. From the East, perhaps ? Ah, just so, just so. Eastern born myself — Virginia. Sellers is my name — Beriah Sellers. THE PERSON OF IMPORTANCE. Ah — ^by the way — ]S"ew York, did you say ? That reminds me; just met some gentlemen from your State a week or two ago — very prominent gentlemen — in public life they are ; you must know them, without doubt. Let me see — let me see. Curious those names have escaped me. I know they were from your State, because I remember afterward my old friend Governor Shackleby said to me — ^fine man, is the Governor — one of the finest men our country has produced — said he, ' Colonel, how did you like those New York gentlemen ? — COL. SELLERS- AT THE "PLANTEE'S." 129 not many such men in the world, Colonel Sellers,' said the Governor — yes, it was New York he said — I remember it distinctly. I canH recall those names, somehow. But no matter. Stopping here, gentlemen — stopping at the South- ern ?" In shaping their reply in their minds, the title " Mr. " had a place in it ; but when their turn had arrived to speak, the title " Colonel" came from their lips instead. They said yes, they were abiding at the Southern, and thought it a very good house. " Yes, yes, the Southern is fair. I myself go to the Plant- er's, old, aristocratic house. "We Southern gentlemen don't change eur ways, you know. I always make it my home there when I run down from Hawkeye — my plantation is in Hawkeye, a little up in the country. You should know the Planter's." Philip and Harry both said they should like to see a hotel that had been so famous in its day— a cheerful hostelrie, Philip said it must have been where duels were fought there across the dining-room table. " You may Iselieve it, sir, an uncommonly pleasant lodging. Shall we walk ?" And the three strolled along the streets, the Colonel talking all the way in the most liberal and friendly manner, and with a frank open-heartedness that inspired confidence. " Yes, born East myself, raised all along, know the "West — a great country, gentlemen. The place for a young fellow of spirit to pick up a fortune, simply pick it iip, it's lying round loose here. Not a day that I don't put aside an opportunity, too busy to look into it. Management of my own property takes my time. First visit? Looking for an opening?" " Yes, looking around," replied Harry. " Ah, here we are. You'd rather sit here in front than go to my apartments ? So had I. An opening, eh ?" The Colonel's eyes twinkled. " Ah, just so. The whole country is opening up, all we want is capital to develope it. Slap down the rails and bring the land into market. The 9- 130 "WILL TOU TAKE SOMETHING." richest land on God Almighty's footstool is lying right ont there. If I had my capital free I could plant it for mil- lions." "I suppose your capital is largely in your plantation?" asked Philip. " Well, partly, sir, partly. I'm down here now with refer- ence to a little operation^a little side thing merely. By the way gentlemen, excuse the liberty, but it's about my usual time " — The Colonel paused, but as no movement of his acquaint- ances followed this plain remark, he added, in an explana- tory manner, " I'm rather particular about the exact time — have to be in this climate." Even this open declaration of his hospitable intention not being understood the Colonel politely said, " Gentlemen, will you take something ? " Col. Sellers led the way to a saloon on Fourth street under the hotel, and the young gentlemen fell into the custom of the country. " Not that," said the Colonel to the bar-keeper, who shoved along the coimter a bottle of apparently corn-whiskey, as if he had done it before on the same order ; " not that," with a wave of the hand. " That Otard if you please. Yes. Never take an inferior liquor, gentlemen, not in the evening, in this climate. There. That's the stuff. My respects ! " The hospitable gentleman, having disposed of his liquor, remarking that it was not quite the thing — " when a man has his own cellar to go to, he is apt to get a little fastidious about his liquors " — called for cigars. But the brand ofEered did not suit him ; he motioned the box away, and asked for some particular Havana's, those in separate wrappers. " I always smoke this sort, gentlemen ; they are a little more expensive, but you'll learn, in this climate, that you'd better not economize on poor cigars." Having imparted this valuable piece of information, the Colonel lighted the fragrant cigar with satisfaction, and then WHO PAID THE BILL. 131 carelessly put his fingers into his right vest pocket. That movement being without result, with a shade of disappoint- ment on his face, he felt in his left vest pocket. Not finding anything there, he looked up with a serious and annoyed air, "not that." anxiously slapped his right pantaloon's pocket, and then his left, and exclaimed, " By George, that's annoying. By George, that's mortify- ing. JSTever had anything of that kind happen to me before. I've left my pocket-book. Hold ! Here's a bill, after all. 1^0, thunder, it's a receipt." " Allow me," said Philip, seeing how seriously the Colonel was annoyed, and taking out his purse. The Colonel protested he couldn't think of it, and muttered something to the bar-keeper about " hanging it up," but the vender of exhilaration made no sign, and Philip had the privilege of paying the -costly shot; Col. Sellers profusely apologizing and claiming the right " next time, next time." As soon as Beriah Sellers had bade his friends good night and seen them depart, he did not retire to apartments in the Planter's, but took his way to his lodgings with a friend in a distant part of the city. CHAPTER XIY. Pulchra duos inter sita stat Philadelphia rivos ; Inter quos duo eunt millia longa vise. Delawar his major, Sculkil minor ille vocatnr; India et Suevis notus uterque diu. Hie plateae mensor epatiis delineat seqnis, Et domui recto est ordine juncta domns. T. Makin. Vergiu era fra lor dl gia matura Verginiti, d'alti pensieri e regi, D'altabeltd; ma eua beltA non cnra, O tanta Bol, quant' onestisen Iregl. Tasso. THE letter that Philip Sterling wrote to Euth Bolton, on the evening of setting out to seek his fortune in the west, found that young lady in her own father's house in Philadelphia. It was one of the pleasantest of the many charm- ing suburban houses in that hospitable city, which is territorially one of the largest cities in the world, and only prevented from becoming the convenient metropolis of the country by the intrusive strip of Camden and Amboy sand which shuts it off from the Atlantic ocean. It is a city of steady thrift, the arms of which might well be the deliberate but delicious terrapin that imparts such a royal flavor to its feasts. It was a spring morning, and perhaps it was the influence of it that made Ruth a little restless, satisfied neither with the out-doors nor the in-doors. Her sisters had gone to the city to show some country visitors Independence Hall, Girard College and Fairmount "Water Works and Park, four objects which Americans cannot die peacefully, even in Naples, with- out having seen. But Euth confessed that she was tired of them, and also of the Mint. She was tired of other things. She tried this morning an air or two iipon the piano, sang a simple song in a sweet, but slightly metallic voice, and then 132 A QUAICER MOTHER. 133 seating herself by the open window, read Philip's letter. Was she thinking abont Philip, as she gazed across the fresh lawn over the tree tops to the Chelton Hills, or of that world which his entrance into her tradition-bound life had been one of the means of opening to her ? Whatever she thought, she was not idly musing, as one might see by the expression of her face. After a time she took up a book ; it was a medical work, and to all appearance about as inter- esting to a girl of eighteen as the statutes at large ; but her face was soon aglo^w^ over its pages, and she was so absorbed in it that she did not notice the entrance of her mother at the open door. "Kuth?" " Well, mother," said the young student, looking up, with a shade of impatience. " I wanted to talk with thee a little about thy plans." " Mother, thee knows I couldn't stand it at Westfield ; the school stifled me, it's a place to turn young people into dried fruit." " I know," said Margaret Bolton, with a half anxious smile, " thee chafes against all the ways of Friends, but what will thee do ? Why is thee so discontented ? " " If I must say it, mother, I want to go away, and get out of this dead level." With a look half of pain and half of pity, her mother answered, " I am sure thee is little interfered with ; thee dresses as thee will, and goes where thee pleases, to any church thee likes, and thee has music. I had a visit yester- day from the society's committee by way of discipline, because we have a piano in the house, which is against the rules." " I hope thee told the elders that father and I are respon- sible for the piano, and that, much as thee loves music, thee is never in the room when it is played. Fortunately father is already out of meeting, so they can't discipline him. I heard father tell cousin Abner that he was whipped so often lU A. CAEBEB CHOSESr. for whistling when he was a boy that he was determined to have what compensation he could get now." " Thy ways greatly try me, Euth, and all thy relations. I desire thy happiness first of all, but thee is starting out on a KUXU'S MOTHER HAKES ENQUIRIES. dangerous path. Is thy father willing thee should go away" to a school of the world's people ? " " I have not asked him," Kuth replied with a look that might imply that she was one of those determined little bodies who first made up her own mind and then compelled others to make up theirs in accordance with hers. "And when thee has got the education thee wants, and lost aU relish for the society of thy friends and the ways of thy ancestors, what then ? " Kuth turned square round to her mother, and with an im- passive face and not the slightest change of tone, said, " Mother, I'm going to study medicine ? " Margaret Bolton almost lost for a moment her habitual placidity. " Thee, study medicine ! A slight frail girl like thee, study medicine ! Does thee think thee could stand it six months ? COUNTEY COUSINS. 135 And tlie lectures, and the dissecting rooms, has thee thought of the dissecting rooms ? " " Mother," said Kuth calmly, " I have thought it all over. I know I can go through the whole, clinics, dissecting room and all. Does thee think I lack nerve ? What is there to fear in a person dead more than in a person living ? " " But thy health and strength, child ; thee can never stand the severe application. And, besides, suppose thee does learn medicine ? " " I will practice it." "Here?" " Here." " Where thee and thy family are known ? " " If I can get patients." " I hope at least, Euth, thee will let us know when thee opens an office," said her mother, with an approach to sarcasm that she rarely indulged in, as she rose and left the room. Euth sat quite still for a time, with face intent and flushed. It was out now. She had begun her open battle. The sight-seers returned in high spirits from the city. Wss there any building in Greece to compare with Girard College, was there ever such a magnificent pile of stone devised for the shelter of poor orphans ? Think of the stone shingles of the roof eight inches thick ! Kuth asked the enthusiasts if they would like to live in such a sounding mausoleum, with its great halls and echoing rooms, and no comfortable place in it for the accommodation of any body ? If they were or- phans, would they like to be brought up in a Grecian temple? And then there was Broad street ! Wasn't it the broadest and the longest street in the world ? There certainly was no end to it, and even Euth was Philadelphian enough to believe that a street ought not to have any end, or architectural point upon which the weary eye could rest. But neither St. Girard, nor Broad street, neither wonders of the Mint nor the gloriesofjhgJEIalLwheie-tbe-ghostB of our fathers mTliJwalyr^^^^^^^e^IisiihxatJiau,^^ the visitoSTol5rircTi~aTlIie~^en^^ windoWS^'aaaffie'baigains on Eighth street. Thejruth is that 136 FATHER AND DAUGHTEE. tlie country cousins had come to town to attend the Yearly Meeting, and the amount of shopping that preceded that religious event was scarcely exceeded by the preparations for the opera in more worldly circles. " Is thee going to the Yearly Meeting, Euth ?" asked one of the girls. " I have nothing to wear," replied that demure person. " If thee wants to see new bonnets, orthodox to a shade and conformed to the letter of the true form, thee must go to the Arch Street Meeting. Any departure from either color or shape would be instantly taken note of. It has occupied mother a long time, to find at the shops the exact shade for her new bonnet. Oh, thee must go by all means. But thee won't see there a sweeter woman than mother." " And thee won't go ?" "Why should I ? I've been again and again. If I go to Meeting at all I like best to sit in the quiet old house in Germantown, where the windows are all open and I can see the trees, and hear the stir of the leaves. It's such a crush at the Yearly Meeting at Arch Street, and then there's the row of sleek-looking young men who line the curbstone and stare at us as we come out. 'No, I don't feel at home there." That evening Euth and her father sat late by the drawing- room fire, as they were quite apt to do at night. It was always a time of confidences. " Thee has another letter from young Sterling," said Eli Bolton. " Yes. Philip has gone to the far west." " How far ?" " He doesn't say, but it's on the frontier, and on the map everything beyond it is marked ' Indians ' and ' desert,' and looks as desolate as a "Wednesday Meeting." " Humph. It was time for him to do something. Is he going to start a daily newspaper among the Kiek-a-poos V ' " Father, thee's unjust to Philip. He's going into business." " What sort of business can a young man go into without capital ?" "He doesn't say exactly what it is," said Euth a little A CAGED EAGLE GROWS UNEASY 137 dubiously, " but it's something about land and railroads, and thee knows, father, that fortunes are made nobody knows exactly how, in a new country." " I should think so, you innocent puss, and in an ■ old one too. But Philip is honest, and he has talent enough, if he will stop scribbling, to make his way. But thee may as well take care of theeself, Ruth, and not go dawdling along with a young man in his adventures, until thy own mind is a little more settled what thee wants." This excellent advice did not seem to impress Kuth greatly, for she was looking away with that abstraction of vision which often came into her grey eyes, and at length she exclaimed, with a sort of impatience, " I wish I could go west, or south, or somewhere. What a box women are put into, measured for it, and put in young ; if we go anywhere it's in a box, veiled and pinioned and shiit in by disabilities. Father, I should like to break things and get loose." What a sweet-voiced little innocent, it was to be sure. " Thee will no doubt break things enough when thy time comes, child ; women always have ; but what does thee want now that thee hasn't ? " " I want to be something, to make myself something, to do something. Why should I rust, and be stupid, and sit in in- action because I am a girl ? What would happen to me if thee should lose thy property and die ? What one useful thing could I do for a living, for the support of mother and the children ? And if I had a fortune, would thee want me to lead 3. useless life ? " " Has thy mother led a useless life ? " "Somewhat that depends upon whether her children amount to anything," retorted the sharp little disputant. " What's the good, father, of a series of human beings who don't advance any ? " Friend Eli, who had long ago laid aside the Quaker dress, and was out of Meeting, and who in fact after a youth of doubt could not yet define his belief, nevertheless looked with some wonder at this fierce young eagle of his, 138 FOOT LIGHTS AND MUSIC. hatched in a Friend's dove-cote. But he only said, " Has thee consulted thy mother about a career,'! suppose it is a career thee wants ? " Euth did not reply directly; she complained that her mother didn't understand her. But that wise and placid woman understood the sweet rebel a great deal better than Euth understood herself. She also had a history, possibly, and had sometime beaten her young wings against the cage of custom, and indulged in dreams of a new social order, and had passed through that fiery period when it seems possible for one mind, which has not yet tried its limits, to break up and re-arrange the world. Euth replied to Philip's letter in due time and in the most cordial and unsentimental ^^ '^T' manner. Philip liked the letter, as he did everything she did ; but he had a dim notion that there was more about herself in the letter than about him. He took it with him from the South- ern Hotel, when he went to walk, and read it over and again in an unfrequented street as he stumbled along. The rather common-place and unformed hand-writ- ing seemed to him peculiar and characteristic, different from that of any other wo- man. Euth was glad to hear that Philip had made a push into the world, and she was sure that his talent and courage would make a way for him. She should pray for his success at any rate, and especially that the Indians, in St. Louis, would not take his scalp. Philip looked rather dubious at this sentence, and wished that he had written nothing about Indians. TBE LETTER. CHAPTEE XV. — Rationalera quidem puto medioinam esse debere : instrui vero ab eTidentibua causis, obscuris omnibus non a cogitatione artificis, sed ab ipsa arte rejeotis. lacidere autem vivorum corpora, et crudele, et supervacuum est : mortuorum corpora discentibus necessarium. Celsius. ELI BOLT OISr and his wife talked over Eu th's case, as the j_ had of tea done before, witli no Ettle anxiety. Aloneflf allj heir children she was impatient of the restraints and monotony of the Friends^~Society7^5d^liolly"in'disposed to accept1ffie~^' inner liglif*^a;^ir^ardBTnto~a jrfe7of-~a«cept- ance and" inaction. When Margaret told her husband of Euth's newest project, he did not exhibit so much surprise as she looked for. In fact he said that he did not see why a woman should not enter the medical profession if she felt a call to it. " But," said Margaret, " consider her total inexperience of the world, and her frail health. Can such a slight little body endure the ordeal of the preparation for, or the strain of, the practice of the profession ?" " Did thee ever think, Margaret, whether she can endure being thwarted in an object on which she has so set her heart, as she has on this ? Thee has trained her thyself at home, in her enfeebled childhood, and thee knows how strong her will is, and what she has been able to accomplish in self-culture by the simple force of her determination. She never will bo satisfied until she has tried her own strength." " I wish," said Margaret, with an inconsequence that is not exclusively feminine, " that she were in the way to fall in love and marry by and by. I think that would cure her of 139 140 RAIL ROAD CONTRACTORS. some of her notions. I am not sure but if she went away to some distant school, into an entirely new life, her thoughts would be diverted." Eli Bolton almost laughed as he regarded his wife, with eyes that never looked at her except fondly, and replied, " Perhaps thee remembers that thee had notions also, before we were married, and before thee became a member of Meeting. I think Kuth comes honestly by certain tendencies which thee has hidden under the Friend's dress." Margaret could not say no to this, and while she paused, it was evident that memory was busy with suggestions to shake her present opinions. "Why not let Euth try the study for a time," suggested Eli ; " there is a fair beginning of a Woman's Medical College in the city. Quite likely she will soon find that she needs first a more general culture, and fall in with thy wish that she should see more of the world at some large school." There really seemed to be nothing else to be done, and Margaret consented at length without approving. And it was agreed that Kuth, in order to spare her fatigue, should take lodgings with friends near the college and make a trial in the pursuit of that science to which we all owe our lives, and sometimes as by a miracle of escape. That day Mr. Bolton brought home a stranger to dinner, Mr. Bigler of the great firm of Fennybacker. Bigle r- second bench of the narrow bottom of a crooked, sluggish, stream, that was some five rods wide in the present good stage ©f water. Before them were a dozen log cabins, with, riids. amd 11- 162 INCIPIENT GREATNESS. mud chimneys, irregularly disposed on either side of a not very well defined road, which did not seem to know its own mind exactly, and, after straggling through the town, wan- dered off over the rolling prairie in an uncertain way, as if it had started for nowhere and was quite likely to reach its destination. Just as it left the town, however, it was cheered and assisted by a guide-board, upon which was the legend " 10 Mils to Hawkeye." The road had never been made except by the travel over it, and at this season — the rainy June — it was a way of ruts cut in the black soil, and of fathomless mud-holes. In the principal street of the city, it had received more attention ; for hogs, great and small, rooted about in it and wallowed in it, turning the street into a liquid quagmire which could only be crossed on pieces of plank thrown here and there. About the chief cabin, which was the store and grocery of this mart of trade, the mud was more liquid than elsewhere, and the rude platform in front of it and the dry-goods boxes mounted thereon were places of refuge for all the loafers of the place. Down by the stream was a dilapidated building which served for a hemp warehouse, and a shaky wharf ex- tended out from it into the water. In fact a flat-boat was there moored by it, it's setting poles lying across the gun- wales. Above the town the stream was crossed by a crazy wooden bridge, the supports of which leaned all ways in the soggy soil ; the absence of a ^jiank here and there in the floor- ing made the crossing of the bridge faster than a walk an offense not necessary to be prohibited by law. " This, gentlemen," said Jeff, "is Columbus Eiver, alias Goose Run. If it was widened, and deepened, and straight- ened, and made long enough, it would be one of the finest rivers in the western country." As the sun rose and sent his level beams along the stream, the thin stratum of mist, or malaria, rose also and dispersed, but the light was not able to enliven the dull water nor give any hint of its apparently fathomless depth. Yenerable MORNING CALLEES. 16S mud-turtles crawled up and roosted upon the old logs in the stream, their backs glistening in tlie sun, the first inhabitants of the metropolis to begin the active business of the day. It was not long, however, before smoke began to issue WAITING FOR A RAILBOAD. from the city chimnies ; and before the engineers had finish- ed their breakfast they were the object of the curious inspec- tion of six or eight boys and n>en, who lounged into the camp and gazed about them with languid interest, their hands in their pockets every one. " Good morning, gentlemen," called out the chief engineer, from the table. " Good mawning," drawled out the spokesman of the party. " I allow thish-yers the railroad, I heern it was a-comin'." " Yes, this is the railroad, all but the rails and the iron- horse." " I reckon you kin git all the rails you want outen my white oak timber over thar," replied the first speaker, who appeared to be a man of property and willing to strike up a trade. " You'll have to negotiate with the contractors about the rails, sir," said Jeff ; " here's Mr. Brierly, I've no doubt would like to buy your rails when the time coiries." " O," said the man, " I thought maybe you'd fetch the 164 AN OLD FRIEND IN CAMP. whole bilin along with you. But if you want rails, I've got em, haint I Epli." " Heaps," said Eph, without taking his eyes off the group at the table. " "Well," said Mr. Thompson, rising from his seat and mov- ing towards his tent, "the railroad has come to Stone's Land- ing, sure ; I move we take a drink on it all round." The proposal met with universal favor. Jeff gave pros- perity to Stone's Landing and navigation to Goose Run, and the toast was washed down with gusto, in the simple fluid of corn, and with the return compliment that a rail road was a good thing, and that Jeff Thompson was no slouch. About ten o'clock a liorse and wagon was descried making a slow approach to the camp over the prairie. As it drew near, the wagon was seen to contain a portly gentleman, who hitched impatiently forward on his seat, shook the reins and gently touched up his horse, in the vain attempt to communi- cate his own energy to that dull beast, and looked eagerly at the tents. When the conveyance at length drew up to Mr. Thompson's door, the gentleman descended with great delib- eration, straightened himself up, rubbed his hands, and beam- ing satisfaction from every part of his radiant frame, advanced to the group that was gathered to welcome him, and which had saluted him by name as soon as he came within hearing. " Welcome to Napoleon, gentlemen, welcome. I am proud to see you here Mr. Thompson. You are looking well Mr. Sterling. This is the country, sir. Eight glad to see you Mr. Brierly. You got that basket of champagne? No? Those blasted river thieves ! I'll never send anything more by 'em. The best brand, Eoederer. The last I had in my cellar, from a lot sent me by Sir George Gore — took him out on a buffalo hunt, when he visited our country. Is always sending me some trifle. You haven't looked about any yet, gentlemen ? It's in the rough yet, in the rough. Those buildings will all have to come down. That's the place for ,the public square, Court House, hotels, churches, jail — all NAPOLEON AS IT IS TO BE. 165 that sort of thing. About where we stand, the deepo. How does that strike your engineering eye, Mr. Thompson ? Down yonder the business streets, running to the wharves. Tiie University up there, on rising ground, sightly place, see the river for miles. That's Columbus river, only forty-nine miles to the Missouri. You see what it is, placid, steady, no cur- rent to interfere with navigation, wants widening in places and dredging, dredge out the harbor and raise a levee in front of the town ; made by nature on purpose for a mart. Look at all this country, not another building within ten miles, no other navigable stream, lay of the land points right here ; hemp, tobacco, corn, must come here. The railroad will do it, Napoleon won't know itself in a year." " Don't now evidently," said Philip aside to Harry. " Have you breakfasted Colonel ? " " Hastily. Cup of coffee. Can't trust any coffee I don't im- *'lT ain't THEKE. port myself. But I put up a basket of provisions, wife would put in a few delicacies, women always will, and a half dozen 166 A CITY ON MAPS. of that Burgundy, I was telling you of Mr. Brierly. By the way, you never got to dine with me." And the Colonel strode away to the wagon and looked under the seat for the basket. Apparently it was not there. For the Colonel raised up the flap, looked in front and behind, and then exclaimed, " Confound it. That comes of not doing a thing yourself. I trusted to the women folks to set that basket in the wagon, and it ain't there." The camp cook speedily prepared a savory breakfast for the Colonel, broiled chicken, eggs, corn -bread, and coffee, to wliich he did ample justice, and topped off with a drop of Old Bourbon, from Mr. Thompson's private store, a brand which he said he knew well, he should think it came from his own side-board. While the engineer corps went to the field, to run back a couple of miles and ascertain, approximately, if a road could ever get down to the Landing, and to sight ahead across the Eun, and see if it could ever get out again, Col. Sellers and Harry sat down and began to roughly map out the city of Napoleon on a large piece of drawing paper. "I've got the refusal of a mile square here," said the Col- onel, " in our names, for a year, with a quarter interest reserved for the four owners." They laid out the town liberally, not lacking room, leaving space for the railroad to come in, and for the river as it was to be when improved. The engineers reported that the railroad could come in, by taking a little sweep and crossing the stream on a high bridge, but the grades would be steep. Col. Sellers said he didn't care so much about the grades, if the road could only be made to reach the elevators on the river. The next day Mr. Thompson made a hasty survey of the stream for a mile or two, so that the Colonel and Harry were enabled to show on their map how nobly that would accommodate the city. Jeff took a little writing from the Colonel and Harry for a pro- spective share but Philip declined to join in, saying that he NATIVE EXPECTATIONS. 167 had no money, and didn't want to make engagements he couldn't fulfill. The next morning the camp moved on, followed till it was out of sight by the listless eyes of the group in front of the store, one of whom remarked that, " he'd be doggoned if he ever expected to see that railroad any mo'." Harry went with the Colonel to Sawkeye to complete their arrangements, a part of which was the preparation of a petition to congress for the improvement of the navigation of Columbus E,iver. ^__^^ CHAPTER XVIII. • oi+/ii-:o33xi+ni ••:++io:©in—^o: Bedda ag Idda, — " Eve us lo conrintz qala er, Que voill que m prendats a moiler. — Qu'en aissi I'a Dieus establida Per que not pot esser partida." Jioman de Jaufre. EIGHT years have passed since the death of Mr. Hawkins. Eight years are not many in the life of a nation or the history of a state, but they may be years of destiny that shall fix the current of the century following. Such years were those that followed the little scrimmage on Lexington Com- mon. Such years were those that followed the double-shotted demand for the surrender of Fort Sumter. History is never done with inquiring of these years, and summoning wit- nesses about them, and trying to understand their signifi- cance. The eight years in America from ISfiO tn 1«fi S . iij u w^nt ^fl institutions t hat were centuries old, changed the _goliticajf a, people, transfo rmed the social life of half the cou ntry, and wrought so profoundly upon the entire nationa.1 g hgTg.f^t.pr that_the influence cannot be^.m,aasured-&h«Ft-©f-two-or-three generations. ^ SJ^e are accustomed to interpret the economy of provi- d ence, the~lifg"of~tlTeTndiv idual is ~as~nothing to tFat of the nat ion or the race ; b ut who can say, in the b roader vievTand' the more intelligent weight of values, that the life of one 168 ~ THE GIFT OF BEAUTY. 169 man is not mo re than that of a nat ionality, and that thera i a not a tribunal where ttie tragedy of one human sonl shall not seem more significant than the overturning of any human in stitution whatever! " •WEen one lEinks of the tremendous forces of the upper and the nether world which play for the mastery of the soul of a woman during the few years in which she passes from plastic girlhood to the ripe maturity of womanhood, he may well stand in awe before the momentous drama. What capacities she has of purity, tenderness, goodness ; what capacities of vileness, bitterness and evil. Nature must needs be lavish with the mother and creator of men, and centre in her all the possibilities of life. And a few critical years can decide whether her life is to be full of sweetness and light, whetlier she, is to be the vestal of a holy temple, or whether she will be the fallen priestess of a desecrated shrine. There are women, it is true, who seem to be capable neither of rising much nor of falling much, and whom a • conventional life saves from any special development of character. But Laura was not one of them. She had the fatal gift of beauty, and that more fatal gift which does not always ac- company mere beauty, the power of fascination, a power tliat may, indeed, exist without beauty. She had will, and pride and courage and ambition, and she was left to be very much her own guide at the age when romance comes to the aid of passion, and when the awakening powers of her vigorous mind had little object on which to discipline themselves. Tlie tremendous conflict that was fought in this girl's soul none of those about her knew, and very few knew that her life had in it anything unusual or. romantic or strange. Those were troublous days in Hawkeye as well as in most other Missouri towns, days of confusion, when between Unionist and Confederate occupations, sudden maraudings and bush-whackings and raids, individuals escaped observa- tion or comment in actions that would have filled the town with scandal in quiet times. Fortunately we only need to deal with Laura's life at this 170 WASHINGTON AS AN INVENTOR AND SOLDIER. period historically, and look back upon such portions of it aa will serve to reveal the woiiian as she was at the time of the arrival of Mr. Harry Brierly in Hawkeye. The Hawkins family were settled there, and had a hard enough struggle with poverty and the necessity of keeping up appearances in accord with their own family pride and the large expectations they secretly cherished of a fortune in the Knobs of East Tennessee. How pinched they were perhaps no one knew but Clay, to whom they looked for almost their whole support. Washington had been in Hawkeye off and on, attracted away occasionally by some tremendous specula- tion, from which he invariably returned to Gen. Boswell's office as poor as he went. He was the inventor of no one knew how many useless contrivances, which were not worth patenting, and his years had been passed in dreaming and planning to no purpose ; until he was now a man of about thirty, without a profession or a permanent occupation, a tall, brown-haired, dreamy person of the best intentions and the frailest resolution. Probably however the eight years had been happier to him than to any others in his circle, for the time had been mostly spent in a blissful dream of the coming of enormous wealth. He went out with a company from Hawkeye to the war, and was not wanting in courage, but he would have been a better soldier if he had been less engaged in contrivances for circumventing the enemy by strategy unknown to the books. It happened to him to be captured in one of his self- appointed expeditions, but the federal colonel released him, after a short examination, satisfied that he could most injure the confederate forces opposed to the Unionists by returning him to his regiment. Col. Sellers was of course a prominent man during the war. He was captain of the home guards in Hawkeye, and he never left home except upon one occasion, when on the strength of a rumor, he executed a flank movement and forti- fied Stone's Landing, a place which no one unacquainted with the country would be likely to find. " Gad," said the Colonel afterwards, " the Landing is the COL. SELLERS AS A SOLDIER. 4n) key to upper Missouri, and it is the only place the enemy never captured. If other places had been defended as well as that was, the result would have been different, sir." The Colonel had his own theories about war as he had in CAPTCBE OF WASHINGTON. other things. If everybody had stayed at home as he did, he said, the South never would have been conquered. For what would there have been to conquer ? Mr. Jeff Davis was con- stantly writing him to take command of a corps in the confed- erate army, but Col. Sellers said, no, his duty was at home. And he was by no means idle. He was the inventor of the famous air torpedo, which came very near destroying the Union armies in Missouri, and the city of St. Louis itself. His plan was to fill a torpedo with Greek fire and poisonous and deadly missiles, attach it to a balloon, and then let it sail away over the hostile camp and explode at the right moment, when the time-fuse burned out. He intended to use this invention in the capture of St. Louis, exploding, his tor- pedoes over the city, and raining destruction upon it until the army of occupation would gladly capitulate. He was un- able to procure the Greek fire, but he constructed a vicious torpedo which would have answered the purpose, but the first 172 LAUEA'S LIFE AT HAWKEYE. one prematurely exploded in his wood-house, blowing it clean away, and setting lire to his house. The neighbors helped him put out the conflagration, but they discouraged any more experiments of that sort. The patriotic old gentleman, however, planted so much powder and so many explosive contrivances in the roads lead- ing into Hawkey e, and then forgot the exact spots of danger, that people were afraid to travel the highways, and used to come to town across the fields. The Colonel's njotto was, " Millions for defence but not one cent foTtribSe." When Laura came to Hawkeye she might have forgotten the annoyances of the gossips of Murpheysburg and have out- lived the bitterness that was growing in her heart, if she had been thrown less iipon herself, or if the surroundings of her life had been more congenial and helpful. But she had little society, less and less as she grew older that was congenial to her, and her mind preyed upon itself, and the mystery of her birth at once chagrined her and raised in her the most extrav- agant expectations. She was proud and she felt the sting of poverty. She could not but be conscious of her beauty also, and she was vain of that, and came to take a sort of delight in the exercise of her fascinations upon the rather loutish young men who came in her way and whom she despised. Tliere was another world opened to her — a world of books. But it was not the best world of that sort, for the small libraries she had access to in Hawkeye were decidedly miscel- laneous, and largely made up of romances and fictions which fed her imagination with the most exaggerated notions of life, and showed her men and women in a very false sort of heroism. From these stories she learned what a woman of keen intellect and some culture joined to beauty and fascina- tion of manner, might expect to accomplish in society as she read of it ; and along with these ideas she imbibed other verj"^ erude ones in regard to the emancipation of woman. There were also other books — histories, biographies of COL. SELBY AND LOVE. 1T3 distinguislied people, travels in far lands, poems, especially those of Byron, Scott and Shelley and Moore, which she eagerly absorbed, and appropriated therefrom what was to her liking. Nobody in Hawkeye had read so much or, after a fashion, studied so diligently as Laura. She passed for an accom- plished girl, and no doubt thought herself- one, as she was, judged by any standard near her. During the war there came to Hawkeye a confederate officer, CoL_Selhy, who was stationed there for a time, in command of that district. He was a handsome, soldierly man of thirty years, a graduate of the University of Yirginia, and of distinguished family, if his story might be believed, and, it was evident, a man of the world and of extensive travel and adventure. To find in such an out of the way country place a woman like Laura was a piece of good luck upon which Col. Selby congratulated himself. He was studiously polite to her and treated her with a consideration to which she was unaccus- tomed. She had read of such men, but she had never seen one before, one so high-bred, so noble in sentiment, so enter- taining in conversation, so engaging in manner. It is a long story ; unfortunately it is an old story, and it need not be dwelt on. Laura loved him, and believed that his love for her was as pure and deep as her own. She wor- shipped him and would have counted her life a little thing to give him, if he would only love her and let her feed the hun- ger of her heart upon him. The passion possessed her whole being, and lifted her up, till she seemed to walk on air. It was all true, then, the ronjances she had read, the bliss of love she had dreamed of. Why had she never noticed before how blithesome the world was, how jocund with love ; the birds sang it, the trees whis- pered it to her as she passed, the very flowers beneath her feet strewed the way as for a bridal march. "When the Colonel went away they were engaged to be married, as soon as he could make certain arrangements 174 LAUKA MARRIED. which he represented to be necessary, and quit the army. Rewrote to her from Harding, a small town in the south- west corner of the state, saying that he should be held in the service longer than he had expected, but that it would not be more than a few months, then he should be at liberty to take her to Chicago where he had property, and should have business, either now or as soon as the war was over, which he thought could not last long. Meantime why should they be sepai-at- ed ? He was established in comfortable quarters, and if she could find company and join him, they would be married, and gain so many more months of happiness. Was woman ever prudent when she loved ? Laura went to Harding, the neighbors supposed to nurse Washington who had fallen ill there. Her engagement was, of course, known in Hawkeye, and was indeed a matter of pride to her family. Mrs. Hawkins would have told the first inquirer that Laura had gone to be married ; but Laura had cautioned her ; she did not want to be thought of, she said, as going in search of a husband ; let the news come back after she was married. So she traveled to Harding on the pretence we have men- tioned, and was married. She was married, but something must have happened on that very day or the next that alarmed her. AVashington did not know then or after what it was, but Laura bound him not to send news of her mar- riage to Hawkeye yet, and to enjoin her mother not to speak of it. Whatever cruel suspicion or nameless dread this was, Laura tried bravely to put it away, and not let it cloud her happiness. Communication that summer, as may be imagined, was neither regular nor frequent between the remote confederate camp at Harding and Hawkeye, and Laura was in a measure lost sight of — indeed, everyone had troubles enough of his own without borrowing from his neighbors. Lanra had given herself utterly to her husband, and if he had faults, if he was selfish, if he was sometimes coarse, if LAURA SWOONS AT COL. SELES'S WORDS. PERFIDY AND DESERTION. 176 he was dissipated, she did not or would not see it. -It was the passion of her life, the time when her whole nature went to flood tide and swept away all barriers. Was her husband ever cold or indifEerent? She shut her eyes to evferything but her sense of possession of her idol. Three months passed . One morning her husband informed her that he had been ordered South, and must go within two hours. " I can be ready," said Laura, cheerfully. " But I can't take you. You must go back to Hawkeye." "Can't — take — me?" Laura asked, with wonder in heir eyes. " I can't live without you. You said " — ' " bother what I said " — and the Colonel took up his sword to buckle it on, and then continued coolly, " the fact is Laura, our romance is played out." Laura heard, but she did not comprehend. She caught his arm and cried, " George, how can you joke so cruelly ? I will go any where with you. I will wait any where. I can't go back to Hawkeye." " Well, go where you like. Perhaps," continued he with a sneer, " you would do as well to wait here, for another colonel." Laura's brain whirled. She did not yet comprehend. " What does this mean ? Where are you going ? " " It means," said the officer, in measured words, " that you haven't anything to show for a legal marriage, and that I am going to New Orleans." ' " It's a lie, George, it's a lie. I am your wife. I shall go. I shall follow you to ^ew Orleans." " Perhaps iny wife might not like it ! " Laura raised her head, her eyes flamed with fire, she tried to utter a cry, and fell senseless on the floor. When she came to herself the Colonel was gone. Wash- ington Hawkins stood at her bedside. Did she come to her- self Was there anything left in her heart but hate and bitterness, a sense of an infamous wrong at the hands of the only man she had ever loved ? 176 WHEREIN LAUKA WAS CHANGED. She returned to Hawkeye. With the exception of Wash- ington and his mother, no one knew what had happened. The neighbors supposed that the engagement with Coh Selby had fallen through. Laura was ill for a long time, but she recovered ; she had that resolution in her that could conquer death almost. And with her health came back her beauty, and an added fascination, a something that might be mistaken for sadness. Is there a beauty in the knowledge of evil, a beauty that shines out in the face of a person whose inward life is transformed by some terrible experience ? Is the pathos in the eyes of the Beatrice Cenci from her guilt or her innocence ? Laura was not much changed. The lovely woman hacJ a devil in her heart. That was all. CHAPTER XIX. SBie EKtBiicIit fid) t)»4 ((^nette aitS feer fludjtigften emljfiitbaoa fieibcnfiiafteit o6ne Orcnjert Unb bie jartliitrtt Serbinbung? 2;aalt(^ i»aii)ft iu biefcr Same !Dleitte« ^frjeni tieffle SUeisana, Unb bas^ i^ in fie bcrliebt (ei, aBirb mirfaftjiit Ueterjcaflunj. Eeine. ME. Harry Brierly drew his pay as an engineer while he was living at the City Hotel in Hawkeye. Mr. Thomp- son had been kind enough to say that it didn't make any difference whether he was with the corps or not ; and although Harry protested to the Colonel daily and to Washington Hawkins that he must go back at once to the line and superin- tend the lay-out with reference to his contract, yet he did not go, but wrote instead long letters to Philip, instructing him to keep his eye out, and to let him know when any difficulty occurred that required his presence. Meantime Harry blossomed out in the society of Hawk- eye, as he did in any society where fortune cast him and he had the slightest opportunity to expand. Indeed the talents of a rich and accomplished young fellow like Harry were not likely to go unappreciated in such a place. A land opera- tor, engaged in vast speculations, a favorite in the select cir- cles of New York, in correspondence with brokers and bank- ers, intimate with public men at Washington, one who could 12- 177 178 HARRY PROPOSES TO APPROPRIATE LAURA. play the guitar and touch the banjo lightly, and who had an eye for a pretty girl, and knew the language of flattery, was ■welcome everywhere in Hawkeye. Even Miss Laura Hawk- ins thought it worth while to use her fascinations upon him, and to endeavor to entangle the volatile fellow in the meshes of her attractions. " Gad," says Harry to the Colonel, " she's a superb creature •, she'd make a stir in New York, money or no money. There are men I know would give her a railroad or an opera house, or whatever she wanted — at least they'd promise." Plarry had a way of looking at women as he looked at any- thing else in the world he wanted, and he half resolved to appropriate Miss Laura, during his stay in Hawkeye. Per- haps the Colonel divined his thoughts, or was offended at Harry's talk, for he replied, "No nonsense, Mr. Brierly. Nonsense won't do in Hawkeye, not with my friends. The Hawkins' blood is good blood, all the way from Tennessee. The Hawkinses are under the weather now, but their Tennessee property is millions when it comes into market." "Of course. Colonel. Not the least offense intended. But you can see she is a fascinating woman. I was only thinking, as to this appropriation, now, what such a woman could do in Washington. All correct, too, all correct. Com- mon thing, I assure you in "Washington ; the wives of senators, representatives, cabinet officers, all sorts of wives, and some who are not wives, use their influence. Yqu want an appoint- ment? De-yett- go to BeBartQi;-Xl__iSotmucEr You get on the right side of his wife. Is it an approjp riation ? You'd ^ost raight to th e_Comnnttee,.jor to the^ Interior office, 1 sup- pose? You'd learn b etter than that. It take s a woman to get any thing throughth e Jiajid--Qjaace^ I tell you, Miss Laura would fascinate an appropriation right through the Senate and the House of Kepresentatives in one session, if she was in "Washington, as youi- friend, Colonel, of course as your friend." USES OF WOMEN IN WASHINGTOST. 179 "Would you have her sign our petition?" asked the Colonel, innocently. Harry laughed. " Women don't get anything by petition- NOT EASILY REFERRED. iiig Congress ; nobody does, that's for form. Petitions are referred somewhere, and that's the last of them ; yoii can't refer a handsome woman so easily, when she is present. They prefer 'em mostly." The petition however was elaborately drawn up, with a glowing description of ]S"apoleon and the adjacent country, and a statement of the absolute necessity to the prosperity of that region and of one of the stations on the great through route to the Pacific, of the immediate improvement of 180 THE PETITION WITH MAPS. Columbus Eiver ; to this was appended a map of the city and a survey of the river. It was signed by all the people at Stone's Landing who could write their names, by CoL Beriah Sellers, and the Colonel agreed to have the names headed by all the senators and representatives from the state ;ind by a sprinkling of ex-governors and ex-members of con- gress. When completed it was a formidable document. Its preparation and that of more minute plots of the new city consumed the valuable time of Sellers and Harry for many weeks, and served to keep them both in the highest spirits. In the eyes of "Washington Hawkins, Harry was a superior being, a man who was able to bring things to pass in a way that excited his enthusiasm. He never tired of listening to his stories of what he had done and of what he was going to do. As for Washington, Harry thought he was a man of ability and comprehension, but "too visionary," he told the Colonel. The Colonel said he might be right, but he had never noticed anything visionary about him. " He's got his plans, sir. God bless my soul, at his age, I was full of plans. But experience sobers a man, I never touch any thing now that hasn't been weighed in my judg- ment ; and when Beriah Sellers puts his judgment on a thing, there it is." Whatever might have been Harry's intentions with regard to Laura, he saw more and more of her every day, until he got to be restless and nervous when he Avas not with her. That consummate artist in passion allowed him to believe that the fascination was mainly on his side, and so worked upon his vanity, while inflaming his ardor, that he scarcely knew what he was about. Her coolness and coyness were even made to appear the simple precautions of a modest ti- midity, and attracted him even more than the little tenderness es into which she was occasionally surprised. He could never be away from her long, day or evening ; and in a short time their intimacy was the town talk. She played with him so adroitly that Harry thought she was absorbed in love for HARRY AND LAURA. 181 him, and yet he was amazed tliat he did not get on faster in his conquest. And when he thoiTglit of it, he was pique^ as well. A country girl, poor enough, that was evident ; living with her family in a cheap and most unattractive frame house, such as carpenters build in America, scantily furnished and una- dorned ; without the adventitious aids of dress or jeM-els or the fine manners of society — Harry couldn't understand it. But she fascinated him, and held him just beyond the line of absolute familiarity at the same time. While he was with her she made him forget that the Hawkins' house was nothing but a wooden tenement, with four small square rooms on the ground floor and a half story ; it migiit have been a palace for aught he knew. Perhaps Laura was older than Harr}'. She was, at any rate, at that ripe age when beauty in woman seems more solid than in the budding period of girlhood, and she had come to understand her powers perfectly, and to know exactly how much of the susceptibility and archness of the girl it was profitable to retain. She saw that many women, with the best intentions, make a mistake of carrying too much girl- ishness into womanhood. Such a woman would have attracted Harry at any time, but only a woman with a cool brain and pxquisite art could have made him lose his head in this way ; for Harry thought himself a man of the world. The young fellow never dreamed that he M^as merely being experimented on ; he was to her a man of anothei- society and another cul- ture, different from that she had anj'^ knowledge of except in books, and she was not unwilling to try on him the fascina- tions of her mind and person. For Laura had her dreams. She detested the narrow lim- its in which her lot was cast, she hated poverty. Much of her reading had been of modern works of fiction, written by her own sex, which had revealed to her something of her own powers and given her indeed, an exaggerated notion of the influence, th^ wealth, the position a woman may attain who has beauty and talent and ambition and a little culture, and >fi not too scrupulous in the the use of them. She wanted to 182 WHAT liEPT HAEEY IN HAWKEYE. be rich, she wanted luxury, she wanted men at her feet, her slaves, and she had not — thanks to some of the novels she had read — the nicest discrimination between notoriety and reputation ; perhaps she did not know how fatal notoriety usually is to the bloom of womanhood. With the other Hawkins children Laura had been brought up in the belief that they had inherited a fortune in the Tenn- essee Lands. She did not by any means share all the delusion of the family ; but her brain was not seldom busy with schemes about it. Washington seemed to her only to dream of it and to be willing to wait for its riches to fall upon him in a golden shower ; but she was impatient, and wished she were a man to take hold of the business. " You men must enjoy your schemes and your activity and liberty to go about the world," she said to Harry one day, when he had been talking of New York and Washington ai\d his incessant engagements. " Oh, yes," replied that martyr to business, " it's all well enough, if you don't have too much of it, but it only has one object." " What is that ? '' " If a woman doesn't know, it's useless to tell her. What do yon suppose I am staying in Hawkeye for, week aft(!r week, when I ought to be with my coi"ps ? " " I suppose it's your business with Col. Sellers about ISTapo- leon, you've always told me so," answered Laura, with a look intended to contradict her words. " And now I tell you that is all arranged, I suppose you'll tell me I ought to go ? " " Harry ! " exclaimed Laura, touching his arm and letting her pretty hand rest there a moment. " Why should I want you to go away ? The only person in Hawkeye who under- stands me." " But you refuse to understand 7W^," replied Harry, flattered but still petulent. " You are like an iceberg, when we are alone." Laura looked up with wonder in her great eyes, aiid some- thing like a blush suffusing her face, followed by a look of A WINTER IN WASHINGTON PEOPOSED. 183 langour tliat penetrated Harry's heart as if it had been longing. " Did I ever show any want of confidence in you, Harry ? " And &he gave him her hand, which Harry pressfed with effusion — something in her manner told him that he must be content with that favor. It was always so. She excited his hopes and denied him, inflamed his passion and restrained it, and wound him in her toils day by day. To what purpose ? It was keen delight to Laura to prove that she had power over men. Laura liked to hear about life at the east, and especially about the luxurious society in which Mr. Brierly moved when he was at home. It pleased her imagination to fancy herself a queen in it. " Yoti should be a winter in Washington," Harry said. " But I have no acquaintances there." "Don't know any of the families of the congressmen? They like to have a pretty woman staying with them." "JSTotone." "Suppose Col. Sellers should have business there; say, about this Columbus River appropriation 1 " " Sellers ! " and Laura laughed."" "You needn't laugh. Queerer^ .things have happened. Sellers knows everybody from Missouri, and from the West, too, for that matter. He'd introduce you to Wash- ington life quick enough. It doesn't need a crowbar to break your way into society there as it does in Philadelphia. It's democratic, Washington is. Money or beauty will open any door. If I were a handsome woman, I shouldn't want any better place than the capital to pick up a prince or a fortune." " Thank you," replied Laura. " But I prefer the quiet of home, and the love of those I know ; " and her face wore a look of sweet contentment and unworldliness that finished Mr. Harry Brierly for the day. Nevertheless, the hint that Harry had dropped fell upon good ground, and bore fruit an hundred fold; it worked in her mind until she had built up a plan on it, and almost a career for herself. Why not, she said, why shouldn't I do 184 COL. SELLERS INTEKVIKWEJX as other women have done ? She took the first opportunity to see Col. Sellers, and to sound him about the Washington visit. How was he getting on with Iiis navigation scheme , would it be likely to take him from home to Jefferson City; or to Washington, perhaps ? "Well, maybe. If the people of Napoleon want me to go to Washington, and look after that matter, I might tear myself from my home. It's been suggested to me, but — not a word of it to Mrs. Sellers and the children. Maybe they wouldn't like to think of their father in Washington. But Dilworthy, Senator Dilworthy, says to me, ' Colonel, you are the man, you could influence more votes than any one else on such a measure, an old settler, a man of the people, you know the wants of Missouri ; you've a respect for relig- ion too, says he, and know how the cause of the gospel goes with improvements.' Which is true enough, Miss Laura, and hasn't been enough thought of in connection with Napoleon. He's an able man, Dilworthy, and a good man. A man has got to be good to succeed as he has. He's only been in Congress a few years, and he must be worth a million. First thing in the morning when he stayed with me he asked about family prayers, whether we liad 'em before or after breakfast. I hated to disappoint the Senator, but I had to out with it, tell him we didn't have 'em, not steady. He said he understood, business interruptions and all that, some men were well enough without, but as for him he never neg- lected the ordinances of religion. He doubted if the Colum- bus River appropriation would succeed if we did not invoke the Divine Blessing on it." Perhaps it is unnecessary to say to the reader that Senator Dilworthy had not stayed with Col. Sellers while lie was in Hawkeye; this visit to his house being only one of the Col- onel's hallucinations — one of those instant creations of his fertile fancy, which were always flashing into his brain and out of his mouth in the course of any conversation and with- out interrupting the flow of it. During the summer Philip rode across the country and made a short visit in Hawkeye, giving Harry an opportunity PHILIP VISITS LAURA. 185 to show liim tlie progress that lie and the Colonel had made in their operation at Stone's Landing, to introduce him also to Laura, and to borrow a little money when he departed. Harry bragged about his conquest, as was his habit, and took Philip round to see his western prize. Laura received Mr. Philip with a courtesy and a slight hauteur that rather surprised and not a little interestedT'him. He saw at once that she was older than Harry, and soon made up his mind that she was leading his friend a country dance to which he was unaccustomed. At least he thought he saw that, and half hinted as much to Harry, who flared up at once ; but on a second visit Philip was not so sure, the young lady was certainly kind and friendly and almost confiding with Harry, and treated Philip with the greatest considera- tion. She deferred to his opinions, and listened attentively when he talked, and in time met his frank manner with an equal frankness, so that he was quite convinced that what-, ever she might feel towards Harrj', she was sincere with him. Perhaps his manly way did win her liking. Perhaps in her mind, she compared him with Harry, and recognized in him a man to whom a woman might give her whole soul, recklessly and with little care if she lost it. Philip was not invincible to her beauty nor to the intellectual charm of her presence. The week seemed very short that he passed in Hawkeye, and when he bade Laura good by, he seemed to have known her a year. " We shall see you again, Mr. Sterling," she said as she gave him her hand, with just a shade of sadness in her hand- some eyes. And when he turned away she followed him with a look that might have disturbed his serenity, if he had not at the moment had a little square letter in his breast pocket, dated at Philadelphia, and signed "Ruth." CHAPTER XX. — Du-AbAll biot)i)5loTi —^ In the little society of the place, the Quaker girl was a favorite, and no considerable social gathering or pleasure party was thought complete without her. There was something in this seemingly transparent and yet deep character, in her childlike gaiety and enjoyment of the society about her, and 200 EUTH IN SOCIETY. in her not seldom absorption in herself, that •would have made her long remembered there if no events had subsequent- ly occurred to recall her to mind. To the surprise of Alice, Kuth took to the small gaieties of the village with a zest of enjoyment that seemed foreign to one who had devoted her hfe to a serious profession from the highest motives. Alice liked society well enough, she thought, but there was nothing exciting in that of Fallkill, nor any- thing novel in the attentions of the well-bred young gentle- men one met in it. It must have worn a different aspect to Eutli, for she entered into its pleasures at iirst with curi- osity, and theii with interest and finally with a kind of staid abandon that no one would have deemed possible for her. Parties, picnics, rowing-matches, moonlight strolls, nutting- expeditions in the October woods, — ^Alice declared that it was a whirl of dissipa- tion. The fondness of Euth, which was scarcely disguised, for the company of. agreeable young fellows, who talked nothings, gave Alice opportunity for no end of banter. " Do you look upon them as ' subjects,' dear ? " she would ask. And Ruth laughed her merriest laugh, and then looked sober again. Perhaps she was thinking, after all, whether she knew herself. MISTAKES OF NOVELISTS. 201 If you should rear a duck in the heart of the Sahara, no doubt it would swim if you brought it to the Nile. Surely no one would have predicted when Kuth left, Phil- adelphia that she would become absorbed to this extent, and so happy, in a life so unlike that she thought she desired. But no one can tell how a woman will act under any circum- stances. The reason novelists nearly always fail in depicting women when they make them act, is that they let them do what they have observed some woman has done at sometime or another. And that is where they make a mistake; for a woman will never do again what has been done before. It is this uncertainty that causes women, considered as materials for fiction, to be so interesting to themselves and to others. As the fall went on and the winter, Euth did not distin- guish herself greatly at the Fallkill Seminary as a student, a fact that apparently gave her no anxiety, and did not dimin- ish her enjoyment of a new sort of power which had awaken- ed within her. CHAPTER XXII. Wohl giebt es ira Leben kein siisseres Gluck, Als der Liebe Geetandniss im Liebchen's Blick ; Wohl glebt es im Leben nicht hbhere Lnst, Al8 Freuden der Liebe an liebender Brust. Dem hat nie das Leben freundlich begegnet, Den nicht die Weihe der Liebe gesegnet. Doch der Liebe Gliiek, so himmlisch, so schon, £ann nie ohne Glauben «n-Tagend bestehn. KSmer, O ke aloha ka mea 1 oi aku ka maikai mamua o ka nmeki poi a me ka ipnkaia, IK mid-winter, an event occurred of unusiial interest to tlie inhabitants of the Montague bouse, and to the friends of the young ladies who sought their society. This was the arrival at the Sassacus Hotel of two young gentlemen from the west. It is the fashion in New England to give Indian names to the public houses, not that the late lamented savage knew how to keep. a hotel, but that his warlike name may impress the traveler who humbly craves shelter there, and make him grateful to the noble and gentlemanly clerk if he is allowed to depart with his scalp safe. The two young gentlemen were neither students for the Fallkill Seminary, nor lecturers on physiology, nor yet life assurance solicitors, three suppositions that almost exhausted the guessing power of the people at the hotel in respect to 202 A TRIP EAST. 203 the names of " Philip Sterling and Henry Brierly, Missouri," on the register. They were handsome enough fellows, that was evident, browned by out-door exposure, and with a free and lordly way about them that almost awed the hotel cleric himself. Indeed, he very soon set down Mr. Brierly as a gentleman of large fortune, with enormous interests on his shoulders. Harry had a way of casually mentioning western investments, through lines, the freighting business, and the route through the Indi^Syterritory to Lower California, which was calculated to give an importance to his lightest word. " You've a pleasant town here, sir, and the most comfort- able looking hotel I've seen out of New York," said Harry to the clerk ; " we shall stay here a few days if you can give us a roomy suite of apartments." Harry u sually had the best of every thing, wherever he went, as such fellows al ways do have in this accommodatin g w orld. Ph ilip would have been quite content with less ex- pensive quarters, but there was no resisting Harry's gener- osity in such matters. Eailroad surveying and real-estate operations were at a standstill during the winter in Missouri, and the young men had taken advantage of the lull to come east, Philip to see if there was any disposition in his friends, the railway con- tractors, to give him a share in the Salt Lick Union Pacific Extension, and Harry to open out to his uncle the prospects of the new city at Stone's Landing, and to procure congres- sional appropriations for the harbor and for making Goose Eun navigable. Harry had with him a map of that noble stream and of the harbor, with a perfect net-work of rail- roads centering in it, pictures of wharves, crowded with steamboats, and of huge grain-elevators on the bank, all of which grew out of the combined imaginations of Col. Sellers and. Mr. Brierly. The Colonel had entire confidence in Harry's influence with "Wall street, and with congressmen, to bring about the consummation of their scheme, and he waited his return in the empty house at Hawkeye, feeding his 204 A VISIT TO FALLKILL. pinched family upon the most gorgeous expectations with a reckless prodigality. " Don't let 'em into the thing more than is necessary," says the Colonel to Harry ; " give 'em a small interest ; a lot apiece in the suburbs of the Landing ought to do a congress- man, but I reckon you'll hnv'e to mortgage a part of the city itself to the brokers." Harry did not find that eagerness to lend money on Stone's Landing in Wall street which Col. Sellers had expected, (it had seen too many such maps as he exhibited), although his uncle and some of the brokers looked with more favor on the appropriation for improving the navigation of Columbus Kiver, and were not disinclined to form a company for that purpose. An appropriation was a tangible thing, if you could get hold of it, and it made little difference what it was appropriated for, so long as you got hold of it. Pending these weighty negotiations, Philip has persuaded Harry to take a little run up to Fallkill, a not difiicult task, for that young man would at any time have turned his back upon all the land in the "West at sight of a new and pretty face, and he had, it must be confessed, a facility in love mak- ing which made it not at all an interference with the more serious business of life. He could not, to be sure, conceive how Philip could be interested in a young lady who was studying medicine, but he had no objection to going, for he did not doubt that there were other girls in Fallkill who were worth a week's attention. ^ The young men were received at the house of the Mon- tagues with the hospitality which never failed there. " We are glad to see you again," exclaimed the Squire heartily ; " you are welcome Mr. Brierly, any friend of Phil's is welcome at our house." " It's more like home to me, than any place except my own home," cried Philip, as he looked about the cheerful house and went through a general hand-shaking. " It's a long time, though, since you have been here to say MEETING OF RUTH AND PHILIP. 205 60," Alice said, with her father's frankness of manner ; and I suspect we owe the visit now to your sudden interest in the Fallkill Seminary." PhiUp's color came, as it had an awkward way of doing in his tell-tale face, but before he could stammer a reply, Harry came in with, "That accounts for Phil's wish to build a Seminary at Stone's Landing, our place in Missouri, when Col. Sellers insisted it should be a University. Phil appears to have a weakness for Seminaries." " It would have been better for your friend Sellers," re- torted Philip, " if he had had a weakness for district schools. Col. Sellers, Miss Alice, is a great friend of Harry's, who is always trying to build a house by beginning at the top." " I suppose it's as easy to build a University on paper as a Seminary, and it looks better," was Harry's reflection; at which the Squire laughed, and said he quite agreed with him. The old gentleman understood Stone's Landing a good deal better than he M'^ould have done after an hour's talk with either of it's expectant proprietors. At this moment, and while Philip was trying to frame a question that he found it exceedingly difBcult to put into words, the door opened quietly, and Euth entered. Taking in the group with a quick glance, her eye lighted up, and with a merry smile she advanced and shook hands with Philip. She was so unconstrained and sincerely cordial, tliat it made that hero of the west feel somehow young, and very ill at ease. Por months and months he had thought of this meeting and pictured it to himself a hundred times, but he had never imagined it would be like this. He should meet Euth unex- pectedly, as she was walking alone from the school, perhaps, or entering the room where he was waiting for her, and she would cry " Oh ! Phil," and then check herself, and perhaps blush, and Philip calm but eager and enthusiastic, would re- assure her by his warm manner, and he would take her hand 206 HAERY ROMANCES. impressively, and she would look up timidly, and, after his long absence, perhaps he would be permitted to . Good heavens, how many times he had come to this point, ANTIOIPATIOM. and wondered if it could happen so. Well, well ; he had never supposed that he should be the one embarrassed, and above all by a sincere and cordial welcome. " We heard you were at the Sassacus House," were Ruth's first words ; " and this I suppose is your friend ? " " I beg your pardon," Philip at length blundered out, "this is Mr. Brierly of whom I have written you." And Kuth welcomed Harry with a friendliness that Philip thought was due to his friend, to be sure, but which seemed to him too level M'ith her reception of himself, but which Harry received as his due from the other sex. Questions were asked about the journey and about the West, and the conversation became a general one, until Philip at length found himself talking with the Squire in relation to, HAKRY AMUSES RUTH. 2or land and railroads and things he couldn't keep his mind on ; especially as he heard Kuth and Harry in an animated dis- course, and caught the words " New York," and " opera," and " reception," and knew that Harry was giving his imagina- tion full range in the world of fashion. Harry knew all about the opera, green room and all (at least he said so) and knew a good many of the operas and could make very entertaining stories of their plots, telling how the soprano came in here, and the basso here, humming the beginning of their airs — tum-ti-tum-ti-ti — suggesting the pro- PHILIP HEAKS HAKRT ENTEKTAINING RUTH. found dissatisfaction of the basso recitative — down-among- the-dead-men — and touching off the whole with an airy grace quite captivating ; though he couldn't have sung a single air through to save himself, and he hadn't an ear to know whether it was sung correctly. All the same he doted on the opera, and kept a box there, into which he lounged oc- casionally to hear a favorite scene and meet his society friends 208 A LOOK INTO THE FUTURE. If Kuth was ever ia the city he should be happy to place his box at the disposal of Euth and her friends. Needless to say that she was delighted with the offer. When she told Philip of it, that discreet young fellow only smiled, and said that he hoped she would be fortunate enough to be in New York some evening when Harry had not already given the use of his private box to some other friend. The Squire pressed the visitors to let him send for their trunks and urged them to stay at his house, and Alice joined in the invitation, but Philip had reasons for declining. They , stai d to supper, liowever, and in the evening Philip had a long talk apart with Euth, a delightful hour to him, in which she spoke freely of herself as of old, of her studies at Phila- delphia and of her plans, and she entered into his adventures and prospects in the Wert with a genuine and almost sisterly interest ; an interest, however, which did not exactly satisfy Philip — it was too general and not personal enough to suit him. And with all her freedom in speaking of her own hopes, Philip could not detect any reference to himself in them ; Avhereas he never undertook anything that he did not think of Euth in connection with it, he never made a plan that had not reference to her, and he never thought of anything as complete if she could not share it. Fortune, reputation — these had no value to him except in Euth's eyes, and there were times when it seemed to him that if Euth was not on this earth, he should plunge off into some remote wilderness and live in a purposeless seclusion. " 1 hoped," said Philip, " to get a little start in connection with this new railroad, and make a little money, so that I could come east and engage in something more suited to my tastes. I shouldn't like to live in the West. Would you ? " It never occurred to me whether I would or not," was the unembarrassed reply. " One of our graduates went to Chicago, and has a nice practice there. I don't know where I shall go. It would mortify mother dreadfully to have me driving about Philadelphia in a doctor's gig." HARRY SPREADS HIMSELF. 209 Philip lauglied at the idea of it. " And does it seem as necessary to you to do it as it did before you came to Fall- kill?" It was a home question, and went deeper than Philip knew, for Kuth at once thought of practicing her profession among the young gentlemen and ladies of her acquaintance in the village ; but she was reluctant to admit to herself that her notions of a career had undergone any change. " Oh, I don't think I should come to Fallkill to practice, but I must do something when I am through scliool ; and why not medicine ? " Philip would like to have explained why not, but the ex- planation would be of no use if it were not already obvious to Puth. Harry was equally in his element whether instructing Squire Montague about the investment of capital in Missouri, the improvement of Columbus Eiver, the project he and some gentlemen in ISTew York had for making a shorter Pacific connection with the Mississippi than the present one ; or diverting Mrs. Montague with his experience in cooking in camp ; or drawing for Miss Alice an amusing picture of the social contrasts of New - - -^ ■ England and the border j.^J' *i ' T n where he had been. 6 ^ ,. -^"i _ j Harry was a very enter- ^"e •, ' ^ 1*"^ '''*'<'* taining fellow, having his ,»,• ' ' , ** ^ . . ^ ' \,^' imagination to help his 5 r *b.^' », ■* ■* '■•4'* I memory, and telling his ; b ' ", * .-ij^, *'•' • y^' stories as if he believed *'' ^l^t-^J^V '- rr"4afevi^ them— as perhaps he did. avi**^'" ;'*^^ Alice was greatly amused '— ~^ ~_ with Harry and listened so '^^^P^^^^^^^^^^-' seriously to his romancing an entertaining fellow. that he exceeded his usual limits. Chance allusions to his bach- elor establishment in town and the place of his family on the 14- 210 HOW TO MAKE A P1.EASANT EVENING. Hudson, could not have been made by a millionaire more naturally. > " I should think," queried Alice, " you would rather stay in New York than to try the rough life at the "West you have been speaking of." " Oh, adventure," says Harry, " I get tired of New York. And besides I got involved in some operations that I had to see through. Parties in New York only last week wanted me to go down into Arizona in a big diamond interest. I told them, no, no speculation for me. I've got my interests in Missouri ; and I wouldn't leave Philip, as long as he stays there." When the young gentlemen were on their way back to the hotel, Mr. Philip, who was not in very good humor, broke out, " What the deuce, Hany, did you go on in that style to the Montagues for ? " " Go on ? " cried Harry. " Why shouldn't I try to make a pleasant evening ? And besides, ain't I going to do those things ? What difference does it make about the mood and tense of a mere verb ? Didn't uncle tell me only last Satur- day, that I might as well go down to Arizona and hunt for diamonds ? A fellow might as well make a good impression as a poor one." " Nonsense. You'll get to believing your own romancing by and by." "Well, you'll see. When Sellers and I get that appro- priation, I'll show you an establishment in town and another on the Hudson and a box at the opera." " Yes, it will be like Col. Sellers' plantation at Hawkeye. Did you ever see that ? " " Now, don't be cross, Phil. She's just superb, that little woman. You never told me." " Who's just superb ? " growled Philip, fancying this turn of the conversation less than the other. " Well, Mrs. Montague, if you must know." And Harry PHILIP RECEIVES LIGHT. 211 stopped to light a cigar, and then puffed on in silence. The little quarrel didn't last over night, for Harry never appeared to cherish any ill-will half a second, and Philip vras too sensible to continue a row about nothing; and he had invited Harry to come with him. '' ' The young gentlemen stayed in Fallkill a week, and were every day at the Montagues, and took part in the winter gaieties of the village. There were parties here and there to / which the friends of Ruth and the Montagues were of course invited, and Harry in the generosity of his nature, gave in return a little supper at the hotel, very simple indeed, with dancing in the hall, and some refreshments passed round. And Philip found the whole thing in the bill when he came to pay it. Before the week was over Philip thought he had a new light on the character of Euth. Her absorption in the small gaieties of the society there surprised him. He had few opportunities for serious conversation with her. There was always some butterfly or another flitting about, and when Philip showed by his manner that he was not pleased, Ruth laughed merrily enough and rallied him on his soberness — she declared he was getting to be grim and unsocial. He talked indeed more with Alice than with Ruth, and scarcely con- cealed from her the trouble that was in his mind. It needed, in fact, no word from him, for she saw clearly enough what was going forward, and knew her sex well enough to. know there was no remedy for it but time. " Euth is a dear girl, Philip, and has as much firmness o£ purpose as ever, but don't you see she has just discovered that she is fond of society ? Don't you let her see you, are seMsh. about it, is my advice." The last evening they were to spend in Fallkill; they were- at the Montagues, and Philip hoped that he would find Ruth, in a different mood. But she was never more gay, and there was a spice of mischief in her eye and in her laugh. " Con- found it," said Philip to himseH^ " she's in. a. perfect twitterJ" 212 SLIGHTLY JEALOUS. He would have liked to quarrel with her, and fling himself out of the house in tragedy style, going perhaps so far as to blindly wander off miles into the country and bathe his throbbing brow in tlie chilling rain of the stars, as people do in novels ; but he had no opportunity. For Ruth was as serenely unconscious of mischief as women can be at times, and fascinated him more than ever with her little demure- nesses and half-confldences. She even said " Thee " to him once in reproach for a cutting speech he began. And the sweet little word made liis heart beat like a trip-hammer, for never in all her life had she said " thee " to him before. Was she fascinated with Harry's careless ion homie and gay assurance ? Both chatted away in high spirits, and made the evening whirl along in the most mirthful manner. Ruth sang for Harry, and that young gentleman turned the leaves for her at the piano, and put in a bass note now and then where he thought it would tell. Yes, it was a merry evening, and Philip was heartily glad when it was over, and the long leave-taking with the family was through with. " Farewell Philip. Good night &? Brierly," Euth's clear voice sounded after them as they went down the walk. And she spoke Harry's name last, thought Philip. CHAPTER XXIII. " see ye not yon narrow road So thick beset wi' thorns and briers ? That is the Path of Righteousness, Though after it but few inquires. " And see ye not yon braid, braid road, That lies across the lily leven ? That is the Path of Wickedness, Though some call it the road to Heaven.'' Tlwmm the Rhpner. PHILIP and Harry reached New York in very different states of mind. , Harry was buoyant. He found a letter from Col. Sellers urging him to go to "Washington and con- fer with Senator Dilworthy. The petition was in his hands. It had been signed by everybody of any importance in Mis- souri, and would be presented immediately. " I should go on myself," wrote the Colonel, " but I am engaged in the invention of a process for lighting such a city as St. Louis by means of water; just attach my machine to the water-pipes anywhere and the decomposition of the fluid begins, and you will have floods of light for the mere cost of the machine. I've nearly got the lighting part, but I want to attach to it a heating, cooking, washing and ironing appar- atus. It's going to be the great thing, but we'd better keep this appropriation going while I am perfecting it." Harry took letters to several congressmen from his uncle and from Mr. Duff Brown, each of whom had an extensive acquaintance in both houses where they were well known as men engaged in large private operations for the public good, 213 214 HARRY IN WASHINGTON. and men, besides, who, in the slang of the day, understood the virtues of " addition, division and silence." Senator Dilworthy introduced the petition into the Senate with the remark that he knew, personally, the signers of it, that they were men interested, it was true, in the improve- ment of the country, but he believed without any selfish motive, and that so far as he knew the signers were loyal. It pleased him to see upon the roll the names of many col- ored citizens, and it must rejoice every friend of humanity to know that this lately emp,ncipated race were intelligently taking part in the development of the resources of their native land. He moved the reference of the petition to the proper committee. Senator Dilworthy introduced his young friend to influen- tial members, as a person who was very well informed about the Salt Lick Extension of the Pacific, and was one of the Engineers who had made a careful survey of Columbus Eiver ; HAEET EXPLAINS BEPOKE SENATE COMMITTEE. left him to exhibit his maps and plans and to show the connection between the public treas- ury, the city of Napoleon and legislation for the benefit of the whole country. PHILIP AT WORK. 215 Harry was the gaest of Senator Dilworthy. There was scarcely any good movement in which the Senator was not interested. His house was open to all the laborers in the field of total abstinence, and much of his time was taken up in attending the meetings of this cause. He had a Bible class in the Siinday school of the church which he attended, and he suggested to Harry that he might take a class during the time he remained in Washington ; Mr. Washington Hawk- ins had a class. Harry asked the Senator if there was a class of young ladies for him to teach, and after that the Senator did not press the subject. Philip, if the truth must be told, was not well satisfied with his western prospects, nor altogether with the people he had fallen in with. The railroad contractors held out large but rather indefinite promises. Opportunities for a fortune he did not doubt existed in Missouri, but for himself he saw f m^ i PHILIP SinDTING. no better means for livelihood than the mastery of the profes- sion he had rather thoughtlessly entered upon. During the summer he had made considerable practical advance in the 216 AN ACCOMPLISHED ENGINEER. science of engineering ; he had been diligent, and made himselt to a certain extent necessary to the work he was engaged on. The contractors called him into their consultations frequently^ as to the character of the country he had been over, and the cost of constructing the road, the nature of the work, etc. Still Philip felt that if he was going to make either repu- tation or money as an engineer, he had a great deal of hard study before him, and it is to his credit that he did not shrink from it. While Harry was in Washington dancing attendance upon the national legislature and making the acquaintance of the vast lobby that encircled it, Philip devoted himself day and night, witli an energy and a concentration he was capable of, to the learning and theory of his profession, and to the science of railroad building. He wrote some papers at this time for the " Plow, the Loom and the Anvil," upon the strength of materials, and especially upon bridge-building, which attracted considerable attention, and were copied into the English " Practical Magazine." They served at any rate to raise Philip in the opinion of his friends the contractors, for practical men have a certain superstitious estimation of ability with the pen, and though they may a little despise the talent, they are quite ready to make use of it. Philip sent copies of his performances to Enth's father and to other gentlemen whose good opinion he coveted, but he did not rest upon his laurels. Indeed, so diligently had he applied himself, that when it came time for him to return to the West, he felt himself, at least in theory, competent to take charge of a division in the field. CHAPTER XXIV. Cante-teca. lapi-Waxte otonwe kin he cajeyatapi nawahon; otonwe wijice hinca keyape se wacanmi. Tokeiii-kaxta. Han, hecetu ; takuwicawaye wijicapi ota hen tipi. Mahp. Ekta Oieim. ya. THE capital of the Great Kepublic was a new world to cotintry-bred "Washington Hawkins. St. Louis was a greater city, but its floating population did not hail from great distances, and so it had the general family aspect of the permanent population ; but Washington gathered its people from the four winds of heaven, and so the manners, the faces and the fashions there, presented a variety that was infinite. Washington had never been in " society " in St. Louis, and he knew nothing of the ways of its wealthier citizens and had never inspected one of their dwellings. Consequently, everything in the nature of modern fashion and grandeur was a new and wonderful revelation to him. Washington is an interesting city to any of us. It seems to become more and more interesting the oftener we visit it. Perhaps the reader has never been there ? Very well. You arrive either at night, rather too late to do anything or see anything until morning, or you arrive so early in the morn- ing that you consider it best to go to your hotel and sleep an hour or two while the sun bothers along over the Atlantic. You cannot well arrive at a pleasant intermediate hour, because the railway corporation that keeps the keys of the only door that leads into the town or out of it take care of that. You arrive in tolerably good spirits, because it is only 217 218 A VISITOR AT WASHINGTON. thirty-eight miles from Baltimore to the capital, and so you have only been insulted three times (provided you are not in a sleeping car — the aver- age is higher, there) : once when you renewed your ticket after stopping over in Baltimore, once when you were about to enter the " ladies' car " without knowing it was a lady's car, and once when you asked the conductor at what hour you would reach Washington. You are assailed by a long rank of hackmen who shake their whips in your face as you step out upon the sidewalk ; you enter what they regard as a KEEP OUT or HERE, SIR ! " Carriage," in the capital, and you wonder why they do not take it out of service and AN OLD ONE. put it in the museum : we have few enough antiquities, and A CLIMATE YOU'LL LIKE. 219 it 18 little to onr credit that we make scarcely any effort to preserve the few we have. You reach yonr hotel, presently — and here let us draw the curtain of charity — because of course you have gone to the wrong one. You being a stran- ger, how could YOU do otherwise ? There are a hundred and eighteen bad hotels, and only one good one. The most renowned and popular hotel of them all is perhaps the worst one known to history. It is winter, and night. "When you arrived, it was snow- ing. When you reached the hotel, it was sleeting. When you went to bed, it was raining. During the night it froze hard, and the wind blew some chimneys down. When you got up in the morning, it was foggy. When you finished your breakfast at ten o'clock and went out, the sunshine was A PROMENADE OUTFIT. brilliant, the weather balmy and delicious, and the mud and slush deep and all-pervading. You will like the climate-— when you get used to it. You naturally wish to view the city; so you take an umbrella, anovercoat, and a fan, and go forth The prominent 220 WHY THE CAPITOL'S FRONT IS IN THE REAR. features you soon locate and get familiar with; first you glimpse the ornamental upper works of a long, snowy palace projecting above a grove of trees, and a tall, graceful white dome with a statue on it surmounting the palace and pleasantly contrasting with the back-ground of blue sky. That building is the capitol ; gossips will tell you that by the original estimates it was to cost $12,000,000, and that the government did come within $2T,200,000 of building it for that sum. You stand at the back of the capitol to treat yourself to a view, and it is a very noble one. You understand, the capitol stands upon the verge of a high piece of table land, a fine commanding position, and its front looks out over this noble situation for a city — but it don't see it, for the reason that when the capitol extension was decided upon, the property owners at once advanced their prices to such inhuman figures that the people went down and built the city in the muddy low marsh hehind the temple of liberty ; so now the lordly front of the building, with its imposing colonades, its pro- jecting, graceful wings, its picturesque groups of statuary, and its long terraced ranges of steps, flowing down in white marble waves to the ground, merely looks out upon a sorrowful little desert of cheap boarding houses. So you observe, that you take your view from the back of . the capitol. And yet not from the airy outlooks of the dome, by the way, because to get there you must pass through the great rotunda : and to do that, you would have to see the marvelous Historical Paintings that hang there, and the bas- reliefs — and what have you done that you should sufier thus ? And besides, you might have to pass through the old part of the biiilding, and you could not help seeing Mr. Lincoln, as petrified by a young lady artist for $10,000 — and you might take his marble emancipation proclamation, which he holds out in his hand and contemplates, for a folded napkin ; and you might conceive from his expression and his attitude, that he is finding fault with the washing. "Which is not the case. Nobody knows what is the matter with him ; but everybody feels for him. Well, you ought not to go into the dome any WASHINGTON REMEMBEliED BY HIS COUNTRYMEN.' 221 how, because it would be utterly impossible to go up there without seeing the frescoes in it — and why should you be interested in the delirium tremens of art ? The capitol is a very noble and a very beautiful building, both within and without, but you need not examine it now. Still, if you greatly prefer going into the dome, go. Now your general glance gives you picturesque stretches of gleam- ing water, on your left, with a sail here and there and a luna- tic asylum on shore ; over beyond the water, on a distant elevation, you see a squat yellow temple which your eye dwells upon lovingly through a blur of unmanly moisture, for it recals your lost boyhood and the Parthenons done in molasses candy which made it blest and beautiful. Still in the distance, but on this side of the water and close to its edge, the Monument to the Father of his Country towers out of the mud — sacred soil is the customary term. It has the KEABED BY A GEATEKDL COlT-vl'iti'. aspect of a factory chimney with the top broken off. The skeleton of a decaying scaffolding lingers about its summit, and tradition says that the spirit of "Washington often comes 222 GOOD CANAI, SITES. down and sits on those rafters to enjoy this tribute of respect whioh the nation has reared as the symbol of its unappeasable gratitude. The Monument is to be finished, some day, and at that time our Washington will have risen still higher in the nation's veneration, and will be known as the Great- Great-Grandfather of his Country. The memorial Chimney stands in a quiet pastoral locality that is full of reposeful expression. With a glass you can see the cow-sheds about its base, and the contented sheep nimbling pebbles in the desert solitudes that surround it, and the tired pigs dozing in the holy calm of its protecting shadow. Now you wrench your gaze loose and you look down in front of you and see the broad Pennsylvania Avenue stretch- ing straight ahead for a mile or more till it brings up against the iron fence in front of a pillared granite pile, the Treasury- building — an edifice that would command respect in any cap- ital. The stores and hotels that wall in this broad avenue are mean, and cheap, and dingy, and are better left without comment. Beyond the Treasury is a fine large white bam, with -wide unhandsome grounds about it. The President lives there. It is iigly enough outside, but that is nothing to what it is inside. Dreariness, flimsiness, bad taste reduced to mathematical completeness is what, the inside ofiers to the eye, if it remains yet what it always has been. The front and right hand views give you the city at large. It is a wide stretch of cheap little brick houses, vfith. here and there a noble architectural pile lifting itself out of the midst — government buildings, these. If the thaw is still going on when you come down and go about town, you will wonder at the short-sightedness of the city fathers, when you come to inspect the streets, in that they do not dilute the mud a little more and use them for canals. If you inquire around a little, you will find that there are more boarding houses to the square acre in Washington than there are in any other city in the land, perhaps. If you apply for a home in one of them, it will seem odd to you to have the landlady inspect you with a severe eye and then ask you fiESULT OF CLAIMING FALSE HONORS. 223 if you are a member of Congress. Perhaps, just as a pleas- antry, you will say yes. And then she will tell you that she is "full." Then you show her her advertisement in the morning paper, and there she stands, convicted and ashamed. She will try to blush, and it will be only polite in you to take the effort for the deed. She shows you her rooms, now, and lets yon take one — but she makes you pay in advance for it. That is what you will get for pretending to be a member of Congress. If you had been content to be merely a private citizen, your trunk would have been sufficient security for your board. If you are curious and inquire into this thing, the chances are that your landlady will be ill-natured enough to say that the person and property of a Congressman are exempt from arrest or detention, and that with the tears in her eyes she has seen several of the people's representatives walk off to their several, States and Territories carrying her unreceipted board bills in their pockets for keepsakes. And before you have been in Washington many weeks you will be mean enough to believe her, too. Of course you contrive to see everything and find out everything. And one of the first and most startling things you find out is, that every individual you encounter in the City of Washington almost — and certainly every separate and distinct individual in the public employment, from the highest bureau chief, clear down to the maid who scrubs De- partment halls, the night watchmen of the public buildings and the darkey boy who purifies the Department spittoons — represents Political Influence. Unless you can get the ear of a Senator, or a Congressman, or a Chief of a Bureau or De- partment, and persuade him to use his "influence" in your behalf, you cannot get an employment of the most trivial nature in Washington. Mere merit, fitness and capability, are useless baggage to you without " influence." The population of Washington consists pretty much entirely of government employes and the people who board them. There are thousands of these employes, and they have gathered there from every corner of the Union and got their berths through 224 HOW THEY DO IT. the intercession (command is nearer the word) of the Senators and JEiepresentatives of their respective States. It would be a BENEFIT OF POLITICAL INFLUENCE. an odd circumstance to see a girl get employment at three or four dollars a week in one of the great public cribs without any political grandee to back her, but merely because she was worthy, and competent, and a good citizen of a free country that " treats all persons alike." "Washington would be mildly thunderstruck at such a thing as that. If you are a member of Congress, (no offence,) and one of your constituents who doesn't know anything, and does not want to go into the bother of learning something, and has no money, and no em- ployment, and can't earn a living, comes besieging you for help, do you say, " Come, my friend, if your services were valuable you could get employment elsewhere — don't want you here ? " Oh, no. You take him to a Department and say, " Here, give this person something to pass away the time at — and a salary " — and the thing is done. Ton throw him on his country. He is his country's child, let his country AMONG THE LUMINARIES. 225 i»apport him. There is something good and motherly about Washington, the grand old benevolent National Asylum for the Helpless. The "wages received by this great hive of employes are placed at the liberal figure meet and just for skilled and com- petent labor. Such of them as are immediately employed about the two Houses of Congress, are not only liberally paid also, but are remembered in the customary Extra Compensa- tion bill which slides neatly through, annually, with the gen- eral grab that signalizes the last night of a session, and thus twenty per cent, is added to their wages, for — for fun, no doubt. Washington Hawkins' new life was an unceasing delight to him. Senator Dilworthy lived sumptuously, and Wash- ington's quarters were charming — gas ; running water, hot and cold; bath-room, coal fires, rich carpets, beautiful pic- tures on the walls; books on religion, temperance, public charities and financial schemes ; trim colored servants, daintj food — everything a body could wish for. And as for station- ery, there was no end to it ; the government furnished it ; postage stamps were not needed — the Senator's frank could convey a horse through the mails, if necessary. And then he saw such dazzling company. Renowned generals and admirals who had seemed but colossal myths when he was in the far west, went in and out before him or sat at the Senator's table, solidified into palpable fiesh and blood ; famous statesmen crossed his path daily ; that once rare and awe-inspiring being, a Congressman, was become a common spectacle — a spectacle so common, indeed, that he could contemplate it without excitement, even without em- barrassment ; foreign ministers were visible to the naked eye at happy intervals ; he had looked upon the President him- self, and lived. And more, this world of enchantment teemed with speculation — the whole atmosphere was thick with it — and that indeed was Washington Hawkins' native air ; none other refreshed his lungs so gratefully. He had found para- dise at last. ' The more he saw of his chief the Senator, the more he 15- 226 PROGRESS MADE WITH THE APPROPRIATION BILL. honored him, and the more conspicuously the moral gran- deur of his character appeared to stand out. To possess the friendship and the kindly interest of such a man, Washing- ton said in a letter to Louise, was a happy fortune for a young man whose career had been so impeded and so clouded as his. The weeks drifted by ; Harry Brierly flirted, danced, added lustre to the brilliant Senatorial receptions, and diligently "buzzed" and "button-holed" Congressmen in the interest of the Columbus River scheme ; meantime Senator Dilwor- thy labored hard in the same interest — and in others of equal national importance. Harry wrote frequently to Sellers, and always encouragingly ; and from these letters it was easy to see that Harry was a pet with all Washington, and was likely to carry the thing through ; that the assistance rendered him by "old Dilworthy" was pretty fair — ^pretty fair; "and every little helps, you know," said Harry. Washington wrote Sellers oflicially, now and then. In one of his letters it appeared that whereas no member of the House committee favored the scheme at first, there was now needed but one more vote to compass a majority report. Closing sentence : "Providence seems to further onr efforts." (Signed,) "Abner Dilwoetht, tJ. S. S., per Washington Hawkins, P. S." At the end of a week, Washington was able to send the happy news, — ofiieially, as usual, — that the needed vote had been added and the bill favorably reported from the Committee. Other letters recorded its perils in Committee of the whole, and by and by its victory, by just the skin of its teeth, on third reading and final passage. Then came letters telling of Mr. Dilworthy's struggles with a stubborn major- ity in his own Committee in the Senate ; of how these gen- tlemen succumbed, one by one, till a majority was secured. Then there was a hiatus. Washington watched every move on the board, and he was in a good position to do this, for he was clerk of this committee, and also one other. He received no salary as private secretaiy, but these two clerk- ships, procured by his benefactor, paid him an aggre- PASSED. THANKS TO PEOVIDENCE. 227 gate of twelve dollars a day, without counting the twenty per cent, extra compensation which would of course be Yoted to him on the last night of the session. He saw the bill go into Committee of the whole and strug- gle for its life again, and finally worry through. In the full- ness of time he noted its second reading, and by and by the day arrived when the grand ordeal came, and it was put upon its final passage. Washington listened with bated breath to the " Aye ! " " No ! " " No ! " " Aye ! " of the voters, for a few dread minutes, and then could bear the suspense no longer. He ran down from the gallery and hurried home to wait. At the end of two or three hours the Senator arrived in the bosom of his family, and dinner was waiting. "Washington sprang forward, with the eager question on his lips, and the Senator said : "We may rejoice freely, now, my son — ^Providence has crowned our efforts with success." CHAPTEE XXY. WASHIFGTOlSr sent grand good news to Col. Sellers that night. To Louise he wrote : " It is beautiful to hear him talk when his heart is full of thankfulness for some manifestation of the Divine favor. You shall know him, some day my Louise, and knowing him you will honor him, as I do." Harry wrote : "I pulled it through, Colonel, but it was a tough job, there is no question about that. There was not a friend to the measure in the House committee when I began, and not a friend in the Senate committee except old Dil himself, but they were all fixed for a majority report when I hauled off my forces. Everybody here says you canH get a thing like this through Congress without buying committees for straight- out cash on delivery, but I think I've taught them a thing or two — if I could only make them believe it. When I tell the old residenters that this thing went through without buying a vote or making a promise, they say, ' That's rather too thin.' And when I say thin or not thin it's a fact, anyway, they say ' Come, now, but do you really believe that ?' and when I say I don't believe anything about it, I Tcnow it, they smile and say, ' Well, you are pretty innocent, or pretty blind, one or the other — there's no getting around that.' Why 228 GLORIOUS NEWS ALL 'ROUND. 229 they really do believe that votes have been bought — they do indeed. But let them keep on thinking so. I have found out that if a man knows how to talk to women, and has a lit- tle gift in the way of argument with men, he can afford to play for an appropriation agaiust a money bag and give the money bag odds in the game. We've raked in $200,000 of Uncle Sam's money, say what they will — and there is more where this came from, when we want it, and I rather fancy I am the person that can go in and occupy it, too, if I do say it myself, that shouldn't, perhaps. I'll be with you within a week. Scare up all the men you can, and put them to work at once. When I get there I propose to make things hum." The great news lifted Sellers into the clouds. He went to work on the instant. He flew hither and thither making contracts, engaging men, and steeping his soul in the ecstasies of business. He was the happiest man in Missouri. And Louise was the happiest woman ; for presently came a letter from Washington which said : " Eejoice with me, for the long agony is over ! We have waited patiently and faithfully, all these years, and now at last the reward is at hand. A man is to pay our family $40,- 000 for the Tennessee Land ! It is but a little sum compared VISIONS OP A HAPPY MAN. to what we could get by waiting, but I dp so long to see the day when I can call you my own, that I have said to myself, better take this and enjoy life in a humble way than wear out 230 THE WHEELS SET IN MOTION. our best days in this miserable separation. Besides, I can put tliis money into operations here that will increase it a hundred fold, yes, a thousand fold, in a few months. The air is full of such chances, and I know our family would con- sent in a moment that I should put in their shares with mine. Without a doubt we shall be worth half a million dollars in a year from this time — I put it at the very lowest figure, because it is always best to be on the safe side — half a million at the very lowest calculation, and then your father will give his consent and we can marry at last. Oh, that will be a glorious day. Tell our friends the good news — I want all to share it." And she did tell her father and mother, but they said, let it be kept still for the present. The careful father also told her to write Washington and warn him not to speculate with the money, but to wait a little and advise with one or two wise old heads. She did this. And she managed to keep the good news to herself, though it would seem that the most careless observer might have seen by her springing step and her radiant countenance that some iine piece of good fortune had descended upon her. Harry joined the Colonel at Stone's Landing, and that dead place sprang into sudden life. A swarm of men were hard at work, and the dull air was filled with the cheery music of labor. Harry had been constituted engineer-in-gen- eral, and he threw the full strength of his powers into his work. He moved among his hirelings like a king. Author- ity seemed to invest him with a new splendor. Col. Sellers, as general superintendent of a great public enterprise, was all that a mere human being could be — and more. These two grandees went at their imposing " improvement " with the air of men who had been charged with the work of altering the foundations of the globe. They turned their first attention to straightening the river just above the Landing, where it made a deep bend, and where the maps and plans showed that the process of straight- ening would not only shorten distance but increase the " falL" They started a cut-off canal across the peninsula formed by NAPOLEON STOCK UP, EVERYTHING "BOOMING." 231 the bend, and such another tearing up of the earth and slop- ping around in the mud as followed the order to the men, had never been seen in that region before. There was such a panic among the turtles that at the end of six hours there was not one to be found within three miles of Stone's Land- ing. They took the young and the aged, the decrepit and the sick upon their backs and left for tide-water in disorderly EXODUS OP THE NATITES. procession, the tadpoles following and the bull-frogs bringing up the rear. Saturday night came, but the men were obliged to wait, because the appropriation had not come. Harry said he had written to hurry up the money and it would be along pres- ently. So the work continued, on Monday. Stone's Land- ing was making quite a stir in the vicinity, by this time. Sellers threw a lot or two on the market, " as a feeler," and they sold well. He re-clothed his family, laid in a good stock of provisions, and still had money left. He started a bank account, in a small way — and mentioned the deposit casually to friends ; and to strangers, too ; to everybody, in fact ; but not as a new thing — on the contrary, as a matter of life-long standing. He could not keep from buying trifles every day that were not wholly necessary, it was such a gaudy thing to get out his bank-book and draw a check, 232 TROUBLE IN THE MONEY MAEKET. instead of using Ms old customary formula, " Charge it." Harry sold a lot or two, also — and had a dinner party or two at Hawkeye and a general good time with the money. Both men held on pretty strenuously for the coming big prices, however. At the end of a month things were looking bad. Harry had besieged the E"ew York headquarters of the Columbus River Slack-water Navigation Company with demands, then commands, and finally appeals, but to no purpose ; the appro- priation did not come ; the letters were not even answered. The workmen were clamorous, now. The Colonel and Harry retired to consult. " What's to be done?" said the Colonel. "Hang'dif Iknow." " Company say anything ? " "Not a word." " You telegraphed yesterday ? " " Yes, and the day before, too." "No answer?" " None — confound them ! " Then there was a long pause. Finally both spoke at once : "I've got it!" "/'vegotit!" " "What's yours ? " said Harry. " Give the boys thirty-day orders on the Company for the back pay." " That's it — that's my own idea to a dot. But then — ^but then " " Yes, I know," said the Colonel ; " I know they can't wait for the orders to go to New York and be cashed, but what's the reason they can't get them discounted in Hawkeye ? " " Of coui-se they can. That solves the difficulty. Every- body knows the appropriation's been made and the Compa- ny's perfectly good." So the orders were given and the men appeased, though they grumbled a little at first. The orders went well enough HAKKr BKlKKLr FLIES FKOM THK MOB FINANCIERING AND ITS EESULT. 233 for groceries and such things at a fair discount, and the work danced along gaily for a time. Two or three purchasers put up frame houses at the Landing and moved in, and of course a far-sighted but easy-going journeyman printer wandered along and started the "Napoleon "Weekly Telegraph and Literary Kepository" — a paper with a Latin motto from the Unabridged dictionary, and plenty of " fat " conversa- tional tales and double-leadeli poetry — all for two dollars a year, strictly in advance. Of course the merchants forwarded the orders at once to New York — and never heard of them again. At the end of some weeks Harry's orders were a drug in the market — nobody would take them at any discount what- ever. The second month closed with a riot.— Sellers was absent at the time, and Harry began an active absence him- self with the mob at his heels. But being on horseback, he had the advantage. He did not tarry in Hawkeye, but went on , thus missing several appointments with creditors. He was far on his flight eastward, and well out of danger when the next morning dawned. He telegraphed the Colonel to go down and quiet the laborers — lie was bound east for money — everything would be right in a week — tell the men so — tell them to rely on him and not be afraid. Sellers found the mob quiet enough when he reached the Landing. They had gutted the Navigation office, then piled the beautiful engraved stock-books and things in the middle of the floor and enjoyed the bonfire while it lasted. They had a liking for the Colonel, but still they had some idea of hanging him, as a sort of make-shift that might answer, after a fashion, in place of more satisfactory game. But they made the mistake of waiting to hear what he had to say first. Within fifteen minutes his tongue had done its work and they were all rich men. — He gave every one of them a lot in the suburbs of the city of Stone's Landing, within a mile and a half of the future post office and railway station, and they promised to resume work as soon as Harry got east and started the money along. Now things were 234: GENERAL COLLAPSE. Wooming and pleasant again, but the men had no money, and nothing to live on. The Colonel divided with them the money he still had in bank — ;an act which had nothing ENJOTIUa THE BOITFmE. surprising about it because he was generally ready to divide whatever he had with anybody that wanted it, and it was owing to this very trait that his family spent their days in poverty and at times were pinched with famine. When the men's minds had cooled and Sellers was gone, they hated themselves for letting him beguile them with fine speeches, but it was too late, now — they agreed to hang him another time — such time as Providence should appoint. CHAPTEE XXVI. RUMOES of Euth's frivolity and worldliness at Fallkill traveled to Philadelphia in-due time, and occasioned no little undertalk among the Bolten relatives. Hannah Shoecraft told another cousin that, for her part, she never believed that Euth had so much more "mind" than other people ; and Cousin Hulda added that she always thought Euth was fond of admiration, and that was the reason she was unwilling to wear plain clothes and attend Meeting. The story that Euth was " engaged " to a young gentleman of fortune in Fallkill came with the other news, and helped to give point to the little satirical remarks that went round about Euth's desire to be a doctor ! Margaret Bolton was too wise to be either surprised or alarmed by these rumors. They might be true ; she knew a woman's nature too well to think them improbable, but she also knew how steadfast Euth was in her purposes, and that, as a brook breaks into ripples and eddies and dances and sports by the way, and yet keeps on to the sea, it was in Euth's nature to give back cheerful answer to the solicita- tions of friendliness and pleasure, to appear idly delaying even, and sporting in the sunshine, while the current of her resolution flowed steadily on. That Euth had this delight in the mere surface play of life 235 236 RUTH AT HOME AGAIN. —that she could, for instance, be interested in that somewhat serious by-play called " flirtation," or take any delight in the exercise of those little arts of pleasing and winning which are none the less genuine and charming because they are not intellectual, Kuth, herself, had never suspected until she went to Fallkill. She had believed it her duty to subdue her gaiety of temperament, and let nothing divert her from what are called serious pursuits. In her limited experience she brought everything to the judgment of her own conscience, and settled the affairs of all the world in her own serene judgment hall. Perhaps her mother saw this, and saw also that there was nothing in the Friends' society to prevent her from growing more and more opinionated. "When Euth returned to Philadelphia, it must be confessed — though it would not have been by her — that a medical career did seem a little less necessary for her than formerly ; and coming back in a glow of triumph, as it were, and in the consciousness of the freedom and life in a lively society and in new and sympathetic friendship, she anticipated pleasure in an attempt to break up the stiffness and levelness of the society at home, and infusing into it something of the motion and sparkle which were so agreeable at Fallkill. She expect- ed visits from her new friends, she would have company, the new books and the periodicals about which all the world was talking, and, in short, she would have life. For a little while she lived in this atmosphere which she had brought with her. Her mother was delighted with this change in her, with the improvement in her health and the interest she exhibited in home affairs. Her father enjoyed the society of his favorite daughter as he did few things be- sides ; he liked her mirthful and teasing ways, and not less a keen battle over something she had read. He had been a great reader all his life, and a remarkable memory had stored his mind with encyclopaedic information. It was one of Ruth's delights to cram herself with some out of the way subject and endeavor to catch her father; but she almost always failed. Mr. Bolton liked company, a house fuU of it, and LEADING QUESTIONS BY RUTH'S MOTHER. 237 tlie mirth of young people, and he would have willingly entered into any revolutionary plans Euth might have sug- gested in relation to Friends' society. But custom and the fixed order are stronger than the most enthusiastic and rebellious young lady, as Euth very soon found. In spite of all her brave efforts, her frequent corres- I pondence, and her determined animation, her books and her music, she found herself settling into the clutches of the old monotony, and as she realized the hopelessness of her endeav- ors, the medical scheme took new hold of her, and seemed to her the only method of escape. " Mother, thee does not know how different it is in Fallkill, how much more interesting the people are one meets, how much more life there is." "But thee will find the world, child, pretty much all the same, when thee knows it better. I thought once as thee does now, and had as little thought of being a Friend as thee has. Perhaps when thee has seen more, thee will better ap- preciate a quiet life." " Thee married young. I shall not marry young, and per- haps not at all," said Euth, with a look of vast experience. " Perhaps thee doesn't know thee own mind ; I have known persons of thy age who did not. Did thee see anybody whom thee would like to live with always in Fallkill ? " " Not always," replied Euth with a little laugh. " Mother, I think I wouldn't say ' always ' to any one until I have a profession and am as independent as he is. Then my love would be a free act, and not in any way a necessity." Margaret Bolton smiled at this new-fangled philosophy. " Thee will find that love, Euth, is a thing thee won't reason about, when it comes, nor make any bargains about. Thee wrote that Philip Sterling was at Fallkill." " Yes, and Henry Brierly, a friend of his ; a very amusing young fellow and not so serious-minded as Philip, but a bit of a fop maybe." " And thee -oreferred the fop to the serious-minded?" 238 ANOTHER SPECULATION. " I didn't prefer anybody, but Henry Brierly was good company, which Philip wasn't always." " Did thee know thee father had been in correspondence with Philip?" Euth looked up surprised and with a plain question in her eyes. " Oh, it's not about thee." . " What then ? " and if there was any shade of disappoint- ment in her tone, probably Euth herself did not know it. " It's about some land up in the country. That man Bigler has got father into another speculation." " That odious man ! Why will father have any thing to do with him ? Is it that railroad ? " " Yes. Father advanced money and took land as security, and whatever has gone with the money and the bonds, he has on his hands a large tract of wild land." "And what has Philip to do with that?" " It has good timber, if it could ever be got out, and father says that there must be coal in it ; it's in a coal region. He wants Philip to survey it, and examine it for indications of coal." " It's another of father's fortunes, I suppose," said Euth. " He has put away so many fortunes for us that I'm afraid we never shall find them." Euth was interested in it nevertheless, and perhaps mainly because Philip was to be connected with the enterprise. Mr. Bigler came to dinner with her father next day, and talked a great deal about Mr. Bolton's magnificent tract of land, extolled the sagacity that led him to secure such a property, and led the talk along to another railroad which would open a northern communication to this very land. " Pennybacker says it's full of coal, he's no doubt of it, and a railroad to strike the Erie would make it a fortune." " Suppose you take the land and work the thing up, Mr. Bigler ; you may have the tract for three dollars an acre." "You'd throw it away, then," replied Mr. Bigler, "and I'm not the man to take advantage of a friend. But if A LETTER FROM PHILIP. 239 you'll put a mortgage on it for the northern road, I wouldn't mind taking an interest, if Pennybacker is willing ; but Pen- nybacker, you know, don't go much on land, he sticks to the legislature." And Mr. Bigler laughed. "When Mr. Bigler had gone, Euth asked her father about Philip's connection with the land scheme. " There's nothing definite," said Mr. Bolton. "Philip is showing aptitude for his profession. I hear the best reports of him in New York, though those sharpers don't intend to do anything but use him. I've written and offered him employment in surveying and examining the land. We want to know what it is. And if there is anything in it that his enterprise can dig out, he shall have an interest. I should be glad to give the young fellow a lift." All his life Eli Bolton had been giving, young fellows a lift, and shouldering the losses when things turned out unfor- tunately. His led ger, take it altogether, would not show a balance on the ri ght side ; but perhaps the losses on his boolEs wimum out to be cre dits in a world where accounts are kept onTaTdilferent basis' The left hand of the ledger will appear theTlgEt, looked at from the other side. Philip wrote to Kuth rather a comical account of the bursting up of the city of Napoleon and the navigation improvement scheme, of Harry's flight and the Colonel's dis- comfiture. Harry left in such a hurry that he hadn't even time to bid Miss Laura Hawkins good-bye, but he had no doubt that Harry would console himself with the next pretty face he saw — a remark which was thrown in for Kuth's benefit. Col. Sellers had in all probability, by this time, some other equally brilliant speculation in his brain. As to the railroad, Philip had made up his mind that it was merely kept on foot for speculative purposes in Wall street, and he was about to quit it. Would Euth be glad to hear, he wondered, that he was coming East ? For he was coming, in spite of a letter from Harry in ISTew York, advising him to hold on until he had made some arrangements, in regard to 240 QUEER PEOPLE. contracts, he to be a little careful about Sellers, who was somewhat visionary, Harry said. The summer went on without much excitement for Ruth. She kept up a correspondence with Alice, . who promised a visit in the fall, she read, she earnestly tried to interest her- self in home affairs and such people as came to the house ; but she found herself falling more and more into reveries, and growing weary of things as they were. She felt that every- body might become in time like two relatives from a Shaker establishment in Ohio, who visited the Boltons about this time, a father and son, clad exactly ahke, and alike in man- "beothek plum." ners. The &on, however, who was not of age, was more unworldly and sanctimonious than his father; he always addressed his parent as " Brother Plum," and bore himseK BUi'U AT HOM£. A PICTUEB. 241 altogether in sucli a superior manner that Euth longed to put bent pins in his chair. Botli father and son wore the long, sin- gle breasted coUarless coats of their society, -without buttons, before or behind, but with a row of hooks and eyes on either side in front. It was Euth's suggestion that the coats would be improved by a single hook and eye sewed on in the small of the back where the buttons usually are. Amusing as this Shaker caricature of the Friends was, it oppressed Euth beyond measure, and increased her feeling of being stifled. It was a most unreasonable feeling. No home could be pleasanter than Euth's. The house, a little out of the city, was one of those elegant country residences which so much charm visitors to the suburbs of Philadelpliia. A modern dwel- ling and luxurious in everything that wealth could suggest for comfort, it stood in the midst of exquisitely kept lawns, with groups of trees, parterres of flowers massed in colors, with greenhouse, grapery and garden ; and on one side, the garden sloped away in undulations to a shallow brook that ran over a pebbly bottom and sang under forest trees. The country about was the perfection of cultivated landscape, dotted with cottages, and stately mansions of Eevolutionary date, and sweet as an English countrj'-side, whether seen in the soft bloom of May or in the mellow ripeness of late October. It needed only the peace of the mind within, to make it a paradise. One riding by on the Old Germantown road, and seeing a young girl swinging in the hammock on the piazza and intent upon some volume of old poetry or the latest novel, would no doubt have envied a life so idyllic. He could not have imagined that the young girl was reading a volume of reports of clinics and longing to be elsewhere. Euth could not have been more discontented if all the wealth about her had been as unsubstantial as a dream'. Per- haps she so thought it. " I feel," she once said to her father, " as if I were living in a house of cards." " And thee would like to turn it into a hospital ? " 16- 242 DANGERS AND CONTINGENCES. " No. But tell me father," continued Euth, not to be put off, " is thee still going on with that Bigler and those other men who come here and entice thee ? " Mr. Bolton smiled, as men do when they talk with women about " business " " Such men have their uses, Kuth. They keep the world active, and I owe a great many of my best operations to such men. Who knows, Ruth, but this new land purchase, which I confess I yielded a little too much to Big- ler in, may not turn out a fortune for thee and the rest of the children ? " " Ah, father, thee sees every thing in a rose-colored light. I do believe thee wouldn't have so readily allowed me to begin the study of medicine, if it hadn't had the novelty of an experiment to thee." " And is thee satisfied with it ? " " If thee means, if I have had enough of it, no. I just begin to see what I can do in it, and what a noble profession it is for a woman. Would thee have me sit here like a bird on a bough and wait for somebody to come and put me in a cage ? " Mr. Bolton was not sorry to divert the talk from his own affairs, and he did not think it worth while to tell his family of a performance that very day which was entirely character- istic of him. Kuth might well say that she felt as if she were living in a, house of cards, although the Bolton household had no idea of the number of perils that hovered over them, any more than thousands of families in America have of the business risks and contingences upon which their prosperity and lux- ury hang. A sudden call u:pon Mr. Bolton for a lai'ge sum of money, which must be forthcoming at once, had found him in the. midst of a dozen ventures, from no one of which a dollar could be realized. It was in vain that he applied to his busi- ness acquaintances and friends; it was a period of sudden panic and no money. " A hundred thousand ! Mr. Bolton," THE EOCK ON 'WHICH WE BUILD. 243 id Plumly. " Good God, if you should ask me for ten, I ouldn't know where to get it." And yet that day Mr. Small (Pennybacker, Bigler and nail) came to Mr. Bolton with a piteous story of ruin in a al operation, if he could not raise ten thousand dollars, nly ten, and he was sure of a fortune. Without it he was beggar. Mr. Bolton had already Small's notes for a large Qount in his safe, labeled " doubtful ; " he had helped him ;ain and again, and always with the same result. But Mr. nail spoke with a faltering voice of his familj', his daughter school, his wife ignorant of his calamity, and drew such a cture of their agony, that Mr. Bolton put by his own more ■essing necessity, and devoted the day to scraping together, ;re and there, ten thousand dollars for this brazen beggar, ho had never kept a promise to him nor paid a debt. Beautiful "^o^^it^ T|^q fAnnrlatirn^ pf modcm society. ''ho sKairsayTliatthis is not the a^olden age of mutual toust. ■ "unlimitea reliance upon human promises ? That is a ^,culjar[co n3ition oi society which enables a whole nation to . ■s tantly recognize p oiuL-anrl mptmiug ^r> thp ff^ miliar news- iper anecdote, which puts into the mouth of a distinguished )ecuIatoFi7rl'ands and mines this remark : — "1 wasn't wor th cmt two years ago, ana now 1 owe two millions of dollars.'' n : CHAPTER XXVII, oi lifiv vntTrrri^* ov6hf dW evKapStcos Parov Tiv' aWijv ijXar' Eie aKav^ivtlv, Kali Tovd^ lyiver^ l^av^ii ek TV(pXov I3\iv0vt IT was a hard blow to poor Sellers to see the work on his darling enterprise stop, and the noise and bustle and eon- fusion that had been such refreshment to his soul, sicken and die out. It was hard to come down to humdrum ordinary life again after being a General Superintendent and the most conspicuous man in the community. It was sad to see his name disappear from the newspapers ; sadder still to see it resurrected at intervals, shorn of its aforetime gaudy gear of compliments and clothed on with rhetorical tar and feathers. But his friends suffei-ed more on his account than he did. He was a cork that could not be kept under the water many moments at a time. He had to bolster up his wife's spirits every now and then. On one of these occasions he said : " It's all right, my dear, all right ; it will all come right in a little while. There's $200,000 coming, and that will set things booming again. Harry seems to be having some dif- ficulty, but that's to be expected — ^you can't move these big 2M COL. SELLERS COMPORTS HIS WIPE. 245 operations to the tune of Fislier's Hornpipe, you know. But Harry will get it started along presently, and then you'll see ! I expect the news every day now." " But Beriah, you've been expecting it every day, all along, haven't you?" " "Well, yes ; yes — I don't know but I have. But anyway, the longer it's delayed, the nearer it grows to the time when it will start — same as every day you live brings you nearer to — nearer — ^" "The grave?" ""Well, no — not that exactly; but you can't understand these things, Polly dear — women haven't much head for bus- iness, you know. You make yourself perfectly comfortable, old lady, and you'll see how we'll trot this right along. "Why bless you, let the appropriation lag, if it wants to — that's no great matter — there's a bigger thing than that." " Bigger than $200,000, Beriah ? " « Bigger, child ?— why, what's $200,000 ? Pocket money ! Mere pocket money ! Look at the railroad ! Did you forget the railroad ? It ain't many months till spring ; it will be coming right along, and the railroad swimming right along behind it. "Where'U it be by the middle of summer ? Just stop and fancy a moment — just think a little — don't anything suggest itself ? Bless your heart, you dear women live right in the present aU the time— but a man, why a man lives " In the future, Beriah ? But don't we live in the future most too much, Beriah ? "We do somehow seem to manage to live on next year's crop of corn and potatoes as a general thing while this year is still dragging along, but sometimes it's not a robust diet, — Beriah. But don't look that way,, (Jear — don't mind what I say. I don't mean to fret, I don't mean to worry ; and I donH, once a month, do I, dear ? But when I get a little low and feel bad, I get a bit troubled and worrisome, but it don't mean anything in the world. It passes right away. I know you're doing all you can, and I don't want to seem repining and ungrateful — for I'm not, Beriah— you know I'm not, don't you?" " Lord bless you, child, I know you are the very best little 246 TELLING ABOUT THE EAILEOAD, ■woman that ever lived — that ever lived on the whole face of the Earth ! And I know that I would be a dog not to work for you and think for you and scheme for you with all my might. And I'll bring things all right yet, honey — cheer up and don't you fear. The railroad " " Oh, I had forgotten the railroad, dear, but when a body gets blue, a body forgets everything. Yes, the railroad — tell me about the railroad." y-^ Aha, my girl, don't you see ? Things ain't so dark, are they ? Now / didn't forget the railroad. ISTow just think for a moment — just figure up a little on the future dead moral certainties. For instance, call this waiter St. Louis. " And we'll lay this fork (representing the railroad) from St. Louis to this potato, which is Slouchburg : [ ' Then with this carving knife we'll continue the railroad from Slouchburg to Doodleville, shown by the black pepper : Then we run along the — yes — the comb — to the tumbler that's Brimstone : ' Thence by the pipe to Belshazzar, which is the salt-cellar : " Thence to, to — that quill — Catfish — hand me the pin- eiishion, Marie Antoinette : " Thence right along these shears to this horse, Babylon : " Then by the spoon to Bloody Run — thank you, the ink : " Thence to Hail Columbia — snuffers, Polly, please — move that cup and saucer close up, that's Hail Columbia : " Then — let me open my knife — to Hark-from-the-Tomb, where we'll put the candle-stick — only a little distance from Hail Columbia to Hark-from-the-Tomb— down-grade all the way. " And there we strike Columbus Kiver — pass me two or three skeins of thread to stand for the river ; the sugar bowl will do for Haw key e, and the rat trap for Stone's Landing — Napoleon, I mean — and you can see how much better Napo leon is located than Hawkeye. Now here yoti are with youi .railroad complete, and showing its continuation to Hallelujah 103^ thence to Corruptionville. " Now then — there you are ! It's a beautiful road, beau- tiful. Jeff Thompson can out-engineer any civil engineer that ever sighted through an aneroid, or a theodolite, or H A RIPPING ROAD, AND WHAT A COUNTRY, 247 whatever they call it — he calls it sometimes one and some- times the other — just whichever levels off his sentence neatest, I reckon. But ain't it a ripping road, though ? I tell you, it'll make a stir when it gets along. Just see what a country it goes through. There's your onions at Slouchburg— noblest onion country that graces God's footstool ; and there's your turnip country all around Doodle ville — bless my life, what fortunes are going to be made there when they get that con- trivance perfected for extracting olive oil out of turnips — if there's any in them ; and I reckon there is, because Congress has made an appropriation of money to test the thing, and they wouldn't have done that just on conjecture, of course. And now we come to the Brimstone region — cattle raised there till you can't rest — and corn, and all that sort of thing. Then you've got a little stretch along through Belshazzar that don't produce anything now — at least nothing but rocks — but irrigation will fetch it. Then from Catfish to Babylon it's a little swampy, but there's dead loads of peat down under there somewhere. Next is the Bloody Kun and Hail Columbia country — tobacco enough can be raised there to support two such railroads. Next is the sassparilla region. I reckon there's enough of that truck along in there on the line of the pocket-knife, from Hail Columbia to Hark-from-the- Tomb to fat up all the consumptives in all the hospitals from Halifax to the Holy Land. It just grows like weeds ! I've got a little belt of sassparilla land in there just tucked away unobstrusively waiting for my little Universal Expectorant to get into shape in my head. And I'll fix that, you know. One of these days I'll have all the nations of the earth ex- pecto — " "ButBeriah, dear— " " Don't interrupt me, Polly — I don't want you to lose the run of the map — well, take your toy-horse, James Fitz-James, if you' must have it — and run along with you. Here, now — the soap will do for Babylon. Let me see — where was I? Oh yes — now we run down to Stone's Lan — ^Napoleon — now we run down to Napoleon. Beautiful road. Look at that, 248 FOETY-NINE BRIDGES, BESIDES CULVERTS. now. Perfectly straight line — straight as the way to the grave. And see where it leaves Hawkeye — clear out in the cold, my dear, clear out in the cold. That town's as bound to die as — well if I owned it I'd get its obituary ready, now, and notify the mourners. Polly, mark ray words — in three years from this, Hawkeye'U be a howling wilderness. You'll see. And just look at that river — noblest stream that mean- ders over the thirsty earth ! — calmest, gentlest artery that refreshes her weary bosom ! Railroad goes all over it and all through it — wades right along on stilts. Seventeen 'fc KESULT OP A STRAIGHT LINE. bridges in three miles and a half — forty-nine bridges from Hark-from-the-Tomb to Stone's Landing altogether — forty- nine bridges, and culverts enough to culvert creation itself ! Hadn't skeins of thread enough to represent them all — but you get an idea — perfect trestle-work of bridges for seventy- two miles. Jeif Thompson and I fixed all that, you know ; he's to get the contracts and I'm to put them through on the divide. Just oceans of money in those bridges. It's the only part of the railroad I'm interested in,— down along the line — and it's all I want, too. It's enough, I should judge. Now here we are at Napoleon. Good enough country plenty good enough — all it wants is population. That's all right — that will come. And it's no bad country now for calmness and solitude, I can tell you*— though there's no A GOOD TIME COMING— BY KAIL. 249 money in that, of course. No money, but a man wants rest, a man wants peace — a man don't want to rip and tear around all the time. And here we go, now, just as straight as a string for Hallelujah — it's a beautiful angle — handsome up- grade all the way — and then away you go to CorruptionYille^ the gaudiest country for early carrots and cauMowers that ever — good missionary field, too. There ain't such another missionary field outside the jungles of Central Africa. ___Aiid_ p atriotic ? — wh y thev named it after CoTip ;r ess itself Oh, I warn you, my dear, there's a good time coming, and it'll be right along before you know what you're about, too. That railroad's fetching it. You see what it is as far as I've got, and if I had enough bottles and soap and boot-jacks and such things to carry it along to where it joins onto the Union Pacific, fourteen hundred miles from here, I should exhibit to you in that little internal improvement a spectacle of incon- ceivable sublimity. So, don't you see ? "We've got the rail- road to fall back on ; and in the meantime, what are we worrying about that $200,000 appropriation for? That's all right. I'd be willing to bet anything that the very next letter that comes from Harry will — " The eldest boy entered just in the nick of time and brought a letter, warm from the post-office. " Things do look bright, after all, Beriah. I'm sorry I was blue, but it did seem as if everything had been going against us for whole ages. Open the letter — open it quick, and let's know all about it before we stir out of our places. I am all in a fidget to know what it says." The letter was opened, without any unnecessary delay.' CHAPTER XXVin. Hto der vil kjobe Poise af Hunden maa give ham Flesk igjen. — Mit seinem eigneu Verstande wurde Thrasyllus echwerlich duichgekommen seyn. Aber in solcheu Fallen finden seinesgleichen f ilr ihr Geld immer einen Spitzbuben, der ibnen selnen Kopf leiht ; uad dann ist es so viel als ob sie selbst einen batten, Widand. Die Abderiten. WHATEVEE may liave been the language of Harry'fs letter to the Cobnel, the information it conveyed wa.'( condensed or expanded, one or the other, from the following episode of his visit to New York : He called, with official importance in his mien, atlSTo. , "Wall street, where a great gilt sign betokened the presence of the head-quarters of the " Columbus River Slack-Water Navigation Company." lie entered and gave a dressy porter his card, and was requested to wait a moment in a sort of ante-room. The porter returned in a minute, and asked Avhom he would Hke to see? " The president of the company, of course." *' He is busy with some gentlemen, sir ; says he will be done with them directly." That a copper-plate card with " Engineer-in-Cliief " on it should be received with such tranquility as this, annoyed Mr. Brierly not a little. But he had to submit. Indeed his annoyance had time to augment a good deal; for he was allowed to cool his heels a full half hour in the ante-room before those gentlemen emerged and he was ushered into the presence. He found a stately dignitary occupying a very official chair behind a long green morocco-covered table, in a 250 A WALL STREET OFFICE. 251 room sumptuously carpeted and furnished, and well garnished with pictures. " Good morning, sir ; take a seat — take a seat." " Thank you sir," said Plarry, throwing as much chill into his manner as his ruffled dignity prompted. " "We perceive by your reports and the reports of the Chief Superintendent, that you have been making gratifying pro- AT HEADQtJARTEKS. gress with the work.— We are all very much pleased." "Indeed? We did not discover it from your letters— which we have not received; nor by the treatment our drafts have met with — which were not honored ; nor by the recep- tion of any part of the appropriation, no part of it having come to hand." "Why, my dear Mr. Brierly, there must be some mistake. I am sure we wrote you and also Mr. Sellers, recently— when my clerk comes he will show copies— Jetters informing you of the ten per cent, assessment." " Oh, certainly, we got those letters. But what we wanted was money to carry on the work — money to pay the men." 252 STOCK HOLDING AND ASSESSMENTS. " Certainly, certainly — true enough — but we credited you both for a large part of your assessments — I am sure that was in our letters." " Of course that was in — I remember that." " Ah, very well then. Now we begin to understand each other." " Well, I don't see that we do. There's two months' wages due the men, and " " How ? Haven't you paid the men ? " " Paid them ! How are we going to pay them when you don't ionor our drafts ? " " Why, my dear sir, I cannot see how you can find any fault with us. I am sure we have acted in a perfectly straight forward business way. Now let us look at the thing a moment. You subscribed for 100 shares of the capital stock, at $1,000 a share, I believe ? " " Yes, sir, I did." " And Mr. Sellers took a like amount ? " " Yes, sir." " Very well. No concern can get along without money. We levied a ten per cent, assessment. It was the original understanding that you and Mr. Sellers were to have the posi- tions you now hold, with salaries of $600 a month each, while in active service. You were duly elected to these places, and you accepted them. Am I right ? " " Certainly." " Very well. You were given your instructions and put to work. By your reports it appears that you have expended the sum of $9,640 upon the said work. Two months salary to you two officers amounts altogether to $2,400 — about one-eighth of your ten per cent, assessment, you see ; which leaves you in debt to the company for the other seven- eighths of the assessment — viz, something over $8,000 apiece. Now instead of requiring you to forward this aggregate of $16,000 or $17,000 to New York, the company voted unani- mously to let you pay it over to the contractors, laborers from time to time, and give you credit on the books for it. And they did it without a murmur, too, for they were pleased with FIGURES WON'T LIB. 253 the progress you had made, and were glad to pay you that little compliment — and a very neat one it was, too, I am sure. The work you did fell short of $10,000, a trifle. Let me see —$9,640 from $20,000— salary $2,400 added— ah yes, the balance due the company from yourself and Mr. Sellers is $7,960, which I will take the responsibility of allowing to stand for the present, unless you prefer to draw a check now, and thus " " Confound it, do you mean to say that instead of the com- pany owing us $2,400, we owe the company $Y,960 ? " "Well, yes." " And that we owe the men and the contractors nearly ten thousand dollars besides ? " " Owe them ! Oh bless my soul, you can't mean that you have not paid these people ? " "But I (?o mean it!" The president rose and walked the floor like a man in TOUCHING A WEAX SPOT. bodily pain. ' His brows contracted, he put his hand up and clasped his fprehead, and kept saying, " Oh, it is too bad, too 254 PLAIN TALK. bad, too bad! Oh, it is bound to be found out — nothing can prevent it — nothing ! " Then he threw himself into his chair and said : " My dear Mr. Brierson, this is dreadful — perfectly dread- ful. It will be found out. It is bound to tarnish the good name of the company ; our credit will be seriously, most seriously impaired. How coald you be so thoughtless — the men ought to have been paid though it beggared us all ! " ''■ They ought, ought they ? Then why the devil — my name is not Bryerson, by the way — why the mischief didn't the compa — why what in the nation ever became of the ap- propriation ? Where is that appropriation ? — ^if a stockholder may make so bold as to ask." "The appropriation ? — that paltry $200,000, do you mean ? " " Of course — ^but I didn't know that $200,000 was so veiy paltry. Though I grant, of course, that it is not a large sum, strictly speaking. But where is it ? " " My dear sir, you surprise me. Tou surely cannot have had a large acquaintance with this sort of thing. Otherwise you would not have expected much of a result from a mSre initial appropriation like that. It was never intended for any- thing but a mere nest egg for the future and real ap- propriations to cluster around." "Indeed? Well, was it a myth, or was it a reality ? Whatever become of it ? " " Why the matter is simple enough. A Congressional ap- propriation costs money. Just reilect, for instance. A majority of the House Committee, say $10,000 apiece — $40,000 ; a majority of the Senate Committee, the same each CHAIKMAN OF COMMITTEE, $10,000. ^^ HOW THEY LOOK. 255 — say $40,000 ; a little extra to one or two chairmen of one or two such committees, say $10,000 each— $20,000 ; and there's $100,000 of the money gone, to begin with. Then, seven male lobbyists, at $3,000 each— $21,000; one female lobbyist, $10,- 000 ; a high moral Con- gressman or Senator here and there — the high moral ones cost more, because they give tone to a measure — say ten of these at $3,000 each, is $30,000; then a lot of small-fry country members who won't vote for anything whatever with- out pay — say twenty at $500 apiece, is $10,000 ; a lot of dinners to members —say $10,000 altogether; lot of jimcracks for Con- gressmen's wives and child- ren — those go a long way — you can't spend too much money in that line — well, those things cost in a lump, say $10,000 — along there somewhere ; — and then comes your printed docu- ments — your maps, your ^^^> tinted engravings, your^<^^;< pamphlets, your illuminat- -^ ^ ed show cards, your adver- tisements in a hundred and fifty papers at ever so much a line — because you've got to keep the papers all right or 256 THE COMPANY'S GREAT CARDS. COUNTKY MEMBER, $OUU. you are gone up, you know. Oh, my dear sir, printing bills are destruction itself. Ours, so far amount to— let me f^— _^ see— 10 ; 52 ; 22 ; 13 ;— and -'**■ "* then there's 11 ; 14 ; 33— well, never mind the dc tails, the total in clean num-' bers foots up $118,254.42 thus far ! " " What ! " " Oh, yes indeed. Print- ing's no bagatelle, I can tell you. And then there's your contributions, as a com- pany, to Chicago fires and Boston fires, and orphan asylums and all that sort of thing — head the list, you see, with the company's full name and a thousand dollars set opposite — great card, sir — one of the finest advertisements in the world — the preachers mention it in the pulpit when it's a religious charity — one of the happiest advertisements in the world is your benevolent donation. Ours have amounted to sixteen thousand dollars and some cents up to this time." " Good heavens ! " " Oh, yes. Perhaps the biggest thing we've done in the advertising line was to get an officer of the U. S. govern- ment, of perfectly Himmalayan oflicial altitude, to wi-ite up our little internal improvement for a religions paper of enor- mous circulation — I tell you that makes our bonds go hand- somely among the pious poor. Your religious paper is by far the best vehicle for a thing of this kind, because they'll ' lead ' your article and put it right in the midst of the read- ing matter ; and if it's got a few Scripture quotations in it, and some temperance platitudes and a bit of gush here and there about Sunday Schools, and a sentimental snufiie now and then about ' God's precious ones, the honest hard-handed poor,' it works the nation like a charm, my dear sir, and t> THE NEXT BEST DODGE. 257 never a man suspects tliat it is an advertisement ; but your secular paper sticks you riglit into tlie advertising columns and of course you don't take a trick. Give me a religious paper to advertise in, every time ; and if you'll just look at their advertising pages, you'll observe that other people think a good deal as I do — eq^ecially people who have got little financial schemes to make everybody rich with. Of course I mean your great big metropolitan religious papers that know how to serve God and make money at the same time — that's your sort, sir, that's your sort — a religious paper that isn't run to make money is no use to us, sir, as an advertising medium — no use to anybody in our line of business. I guess our next best dodge was sending a pleasure trip of newspaper reporters ' out to Napoleon. JSTever paid them a cent; just filled them up with champagne and the fat of the land, put pen, ink and paper before them while they were red-hot, and bless your soul when you come to read their letters you'd have supposed they'd been to heaven. And if a sentimental sqneamishness held one or two of them back from taking a less rosy view of Napoleon, our hospitalities tied his tongiie, at least, and he said nothing at all and so did us no harm. Let me see — have I stated all the expenses I've been at ? No, I was near forgetting one or two items. There's your official salaries — ^you can't get good men for nothing. Salaries cost pretty lively. And then there's your big high- sounding millionaire names stuck into your advertisements as stockholders — another card, that — and they are stockholders, too, but you have to give them the stock and non-assessable at that — so they're an expensive lot. Yeiy, very expensive thing, take it all around, is a big internal improvement con- cern — but you see that yourself, Mr. Bryerman — you see that, yourself, sir." " But look here. I think you are a little mistaken about it's ever having cost anything for Congressional votes. I happen to know something about that. I've let you siiy your say — now let me say mine. I don't wish to seem to throw any suspicion on anybody's statements, because we are all liable to be mistaken. But how would it strike you if I were 17- 258 HARRY DON'T SEE THE POINT. to say that 1 was in Washington all the time this bill was pending? — and what if I added that / put the measure through myself? Yes, sir, I did that little thing. And more- over, I never paid a dollar for any man's vote and never promised one. There are some ways of doing a thing that are as good as others which other people don't happen to think about, or don't have the knack of succeeding in, if they do happen to think of them. My dear sir, I am obliged to knock some of your expenses in the head — for never a cent was paid a Congressman or Senator on the part of this Navi- gation Company. The president smiled blandly, even sweetly, all through this harangue, and then said : " Is that so ?" " Every word of it." " Well it does seem to alter the complexion of things a little. You are acquainted with the members down there, of course, else you could not have worked to such advantage ?" " I know them all, sir. I know their wives, their children, their babies — I even made it a point to be on good terms Avith their lackeys. I know every Congressman well — even familiarly." " Yery good. Do you know any of their signatures ? Do you know their handwriting?" " Why I know their handwriting as well as I know my own — have had correspondence enough with them, I should think. And their signatures — why I can tell their initials, even." The president went to a private safe, unlocked it and got out some letters and certain slips of paper. Then he said : " Now here, for instance ; do you believe that that is a genuine letter ? Do you know this signature here ? — and this one ? Do you know who those initials represent — and are they forgeries ?" Harry was stupefied. There were things there that made his brain swim. Presently, at the bottom of one of the letters he saw a signature that restored his equilibrium ; it even brought the sunshine of a smile to his face. HAREY GETS LIGHT. 239 The president said : " That name amuses you. You never suspected him ? " " Of course I ought to have suspected him, but I don't believe it ever really occurred to me. Well, well, well — DOCUMENTARY PROOF. how did you ever have the nerve to approach him, of all others ? " "Why my friend, we never think of accomplishing any- thing without his help. He is our mainstay. But how do those letters strike yon ? " " They strike me dumb ! What a stone-blind idiot I have been ! " " Well, take it all around, I suppose you had a pleasant time in Washington," said the president, gathering up the letters ; " of course you must have had. Very few men could go there and get a money bill through without buying a single — " " Come, now, Mr. President, that's plenty of that ! I take back everything I said on that head. I'm a wiser man to-day than I was yesterday, I can tell j'ou." 260 WHAT BECAME OF THE $200,000. " I think you are. In fact I am satisfied yon are. But now I showed you these things in confidence, you under- stand. Mention facts as much as you want to, but don't mention names to anyiody. I can depend on you for tliat, can't II" " Oh, of course. I understand the necessity of that. I will not betray the names. But to go back a bit, it begins to look as if you never saw any of that appropriation at all?" " We saw nearly ten thousand dollars of it — and that was all. Several of us took turns at log-rolling in Washington, and if we had charged anything for that service, none of that $10,000 would ever have reached New York." " If you hadn't levied the assessment j'ou would have been in a close place I judge ? " "Close? Have you figured up the total of the disburse- ments I told you of ? " " No, I didn't think of that." " Well, lets see : Spent in Washington, say, . . $191,000 Printing, advertising, etc., say, . 118,000 Charity, say, . . . 16,000 Total, . . $325,000 ' The money to do that with, comes from- Appropriation, . . . $200,000 Ten per cent, assessment on capital of $1,000,000, . . . 100,000 Total, . . $300,000 " Which leaves us in debt some $25,000 at this moment. Salaries of home officers are still going on ; also printing and advertising. Next month will show a state of things!'* " And then — ^burst up, I suppose ? " " By no means. Levy another assessment." " Oh, I see. That's dismal." " By no means." " Why isn't it ? What's the road out ? " "Another appropriation, don't you see?" MOURNING ALL 'ROUND. 261 " Bother the appropriations. They cost more than they come to." " Not the next one. We'll call for half a million — get it and go for a million the very next month." " Yes, but the cost of it ! " The president smiled, and patted his secret letters affection- ately. He said : " All these people are in the next Congress. "We shan't have to pay them a cent. And what is more, they will work like beavers for ns — perhaps it might be to their advantage." Harry reflected profoundly a while. Then he said : " We send many missionaries to lift up the benighted races of other lands. How much cheaper and better it would be if those people could only come here and drink of our civili- zation at its fountain head." " I perfectly agree with you, Mr. Beverly. Must you go ? Well, good morning. Look in, when you are passing ; and whenever I can give you any information about our affairs nnd prospects, I shall be glad to do it." Harry's letter was not a long one,- but it contained at least the calamitous figures that came out in the above conversa- tion. The Colonel found himself in a rather uncomfortable place — no $1,200 salary forthcoming; and himself held responsible for half of the $9,640 due the workmen, to say nothing of being in debt to the company to the extent of nearly $4,000. Polly's heart was nearly broken ; the " blues" returned in fearful force, and she had to go out of the room to hide the tears that nothing could keep back now. There was mourning in another quarter, too, for Louise had a letter. Washington had refused, at the last moment, to take $40,000 for the Tennessee Land, and had demanded $150,000 ! So the trade fell through, and now Washington was wailing because he had been so foolish. But he wrote that his man might probably return to the city, soon, and then he meant to sell to him, sure, even if he had to take $10,000. Louise had a good cry — several of them, indeed — and the family charitably forebore to make any comments that would increase her grief. 262 HAWKEYE TRIUMPHANT. Spring blossomed, summer came, dragged its hot weeks by, and the Colouel's spirits rose, day by day, for the railroad was malcing good progress. But by and by something hap- pened. Ilawkeye had always declined to subscribe anything toward the railway, imagining that her large business would be a sufficient compulsory influence ; but now Hawkeye was frightened ; and before Col. Sellers knew M'hat he was about, Hawkeye, in a panic, had rushed to the front and subscribed such a sum that Napoleon's attractions suddenly sank into insignificance and the railroad concluded to follow a compar- atively straight coui-se instead of going miles out of its way to build up a metropolis in the muddy desert of Stone's Landing. The thunderbolt fell. After all the Colonel's deep plan- ning ; after all his brain work and tongue work in drawing COLONEL SELLERS HESPOXDENT. public attention to hi.-^ pet project and enlisting interest in it; after all his faithful hard toil with his hands, and running hither and thither on his busy feet ; after all his high hopes and splendid prophecies, the fates had turned their backs ou PEACE KEIGNS AGAIN AT STONE'S LANDING. 263 him at last, and all in a moment Lis air-castles crumbled to ruins about him. Hawkeye rose from her fright triumphant and rejoicing, and down went Stone's Landing ! One by one its meagre parcel of inhabitants packed up and moved away, as the summer waned and fall approached. Town lots were no longer salable, traffic ceased, a deadly lethargy fell upon the place once more, the " Weekly Telegraph " faded into an early grave, the wary tadpole returned from exile, the bull- frog resumed his ancient song, the tranquil turtle sunned his back upon bank and log and drowsed his grateful life away as iu the old sweet days of yore. CHAPTER XXIX. — Mihma hatak ash osh ilhkolit yakai ya hlopuUit tomalia holihta nlhpisa ho ki^shkoa untuklo ho holUssochit holisso afohkit tahli cha. Cliosh. 18. 9. PHILIP Sterling was on his way to Ilium, in tlie state of Pennsylvania. Ilium was the railway station nearest to the tract of wild land which Mr. Bolton had commissioned him to examine. On the last day of the journey as the railway train Philip was on was leaving a large city, a lady timidly entered the drawing-room car, and hesitatingly took a chair that was at the moment unoccupied. Philip saw from the window that a gentleman had put her upon the car just as it was starting, in a few moments the conductor entered, and without wait- ing an explanation, said roughly to the ladj^ "■ i^ovf you can't sit there. That seat's taken. Go into the other car." "1 did not intend to bake the seat," said the lady risincr, " I only sat down a moment till the conductor should come and give me a seat." " There aint any. Cai-'s full. You'll have to leave." " But, sir," said the lady, appealingly, " I thought " "Can't help what you thought — you must go into the other car." " The train is going very fast, let me stand here till we stop." 264 KAILROAD GALLANTBY. 2G5 " The lady can have my seat," cried Philip, springing up. The conductor turned towards Philip, and coolly and delib- T * *■ ^* **.' THE MONARCH OF ALL HE SUETETS. erately surveyed him from head to foot, with contempt in every line of his face, turned his back upon him without a word, and said to the lady, " Come, Pve got no time to talk. You must go now." The lady, entirely disconcerted by such rudeness, and frightened, moved towards the door, opened it and stepped out. The train was swinging along at a rapid rate, jarring from side to side ; the step was a long one between the cars and there was no protecting grating. The lady attempted it, but lost her balance, in th& wind and the motion of the car, and fell ! She would inevitably have gone down under the wheels, if Philip, who had swiftly followed her, had not 266 PHILIP STRIKES FROM THE SHOLXDEE. cauglit her arm and drawn her up. He then assisted her across, found her a seat, received her bewildered thanks, and returned to his car. The conductor was still there, taking his tickets, and growl- ing something about imposition. Philip marched up to him, and Ijurst out with, •• You are a brute, an infernal brute, to treat a woman that way." " Perhaps you'd like to make a fuss about it," sneered the conductor. Philip's reply was a blow, given so suddenly and planted so squarely in the conductor's face, that it sent him reeling over a fat passenger, who was looking up in mild wonder that any one should dare to dispute witb a conductor, and against the side of the car. He recovered himself, reached the bell rope, "Damn you, I'll learn yon," stepped to the door and called a couple of brakemen, and then, as the speed slackened, roared out, "Get off this train." " I shall not get ofE. I have as much right here as you." "We'll see," said the conductor, advancing with the brake- men. The passengers protested, and some of them said to each other, " That's too bad," as tliey always do in such cases, but none of them offered to take a hand with Philip. The men seized him, wrenched him from his seat, dragged him along the aisle, tearing his clothes, thrust him from the car, and then flung his carpet-bag, overcoat and umbrella after him. And the train went on. The conductor, red in the face and puffing from his exer- tion, swaggered through the car, muttering '• Puppy, I'Uleam him." The passengers, when he had gone, were loud in their indignation, and talked about signing a protest, but they did nothing more than talk. The next morning the Hooverville J'atriot and Clarion had this " item " : — SLIGHTtTALLT OVEKBOAED. " We learn that as the down noon express wsts leaTvn^ B yesterday a lady! (God saTe the mark) attempted to force herself into the already fhll PHILLIP THRUST FEOSI THE RAIL ROAD CAB. "WHAT THE PAPERS SAID. 267 palatial car. Conductor Slum, who is too old a bird to be caught with chaff, court- eously informed her that the car was full, and when she insisted on remaining, he persuaded her to go into the car where she belonged. Thereupon a young sprig, from the East, blustered up, like a Shanghai rooster, and began to sass the conductor with his chin music. That gentleman deliyered the young aspirant for a muss one of his elegant little left-handers, which so astonished him that he began to feel for his shooter. Whereupon Mr. Slum gently raised the youth, carried him forth, and set him down just outside the car to cool off. Whether the young blood has yet made his way out of Bascom's swamp, we have not learned. Conductor Slum is o«ie of the most gentlemanly and efficient officers on the road ; but he ain't trifled with, not much. We learn that the company have put a new engine on the seven o'olocli train, and newly upholstered the drawing-room car throughout. It spares no effort for the comfort of the travel- ing public." Philip never liad been before in Bascom's swamp, and there was nothing inviting in it to detain him. After the train got out of the way he crawled out of the briars and the mud, and got upon the track. He was somewhat bruised, but he was too angry to mind that. He plodded along over the ties in a very hot condition of mind and body. In the scuffle, his railway check had disappeared, and he grimly wondered, as he noticed the loss, if the company would per- ■ mit him to walk over their track if they should know he hadn't a ticket. Philip had to walk some five miles before he reached a little station, where he could wait for a train, and he had ample time for reflection. At first he was full of vengeance on the company. He would sue it. He would make it pay roundly. But then it occurred to him that he did not know the name of a witness he could summon, and that a personal fight against a railway corporation was about the most hope- less in the world. He then thought he would seek out that conductor, lie in wait for him at some station, and thrash him, or get thrashed himself. But as he got cooler, that did not seem to him a project worthy of a gentleman exactly. Was it possible for a gentle- man to get even with such a fellow as that conductor on the latter's own plane ? And when he came to this point, he began to ask himself, if he had not acted very much like a 2G8 SOBER SECOND THOUGHT. fool, lie didn't regret striking the fellow — he hoped he had left a mark on him. But, after all, was that the best way ? Here was he, Philip Sterling, calling himself a gentleman, in a brawl with a vulgar conductor, about a woman he had never seen before. "Why should he have put himself in such a ridiculous position ? Wasn't it enough to have offered the lady his seat, to have rescued Iier from an accident, perhaps from death ? Suppose he had simply said to the conductor, " Sir, your conduct is brutal, I shall report you." The pass- engers, who saw the affair, might have joined in a report against the conductor, and he might really have accomplished something. And, now ! Philip looked at his torn clothes, and thought with disgust of his haste in getting into a fight with, such an autocrat. At the little station where Philip waited for the next train, he met a man who turned out to be a justice of the peace in that neighborhood, and told him his adventure. He was a kindly sort of man, and seemed very much interested. " Dum 'em " said he, when he had heard the story. " Do you think any thing can be done, sir ?" "Wal, I guess tain't no use. 1 hain't a mite of doubt of every word you say.' But suin's no use. The railroad com- pany owns all these people along here, and the judges on the bench too. Spiled your clothes ! wal, " least said's soonest mended." You haint no chance Avith the company." "When next morning, he read the humorous account in the Patriot and Clarion^ he saw still more clearly what chance he would have had before the public in a fight with the rail- road company. Still Philip's conscience told him that it was his plain duty to carry the matter into the THE JUSTICE; coui'ts, cveu wlth the certainty of defeat. He confessed that neither he nor any citizen had a right to consult his own feelings or conscience in a case PHILIP CONFESSES HE IS A BAD CITIZEN. 369 where a law of the land had been violated before his own eyes. He confessed that every citizen's first duty in such' a case is to put aside his own business and devote his time and his best efforts to seeing that the infraction is promptly pun- ished ; and he knew that no country can be well governed unless its citizens as a body keep religiously before their minds that they are the guardians of the law, and that the law officers are only the machinery for its execution, nothing more. As a finality he was obliged to confess that he was a bad citizen, and also that the general laxity of the time, and the absence of a sense of duty toward any part of tlie commu- nity but the individual himself were ingrained in him, and he was no better than the rest of the people. The result of this little adventure was that Philip did not reach Ilium till daylight the next morning, when he descended, sleepy and sore, from a way train, and looked about him. Ilium was in a narrow mountain gorge, through which a rapid stream ran. It consisted of the plank platform on whicfi he stood, a wooden house, half painted, with a dirty piazza (unroofed) in front, and a sign board hung on a slanting poll bearing the legend, "Hotel. P. Dusenheimer," a sawmill further down the stream, a blacksmith-shop, and a store, and three or four unpainted dwellings of the slab variety. As Philip approached the hotel lie saw what ap- peared to be a wild beast crouching on the piazza. It did not stir, however, and he soon found that it was only a stuffed skin. This cheerful invitation to the tavern was the remains of a huge panther which had been killed in the re- gion a few weeks before. Philip examined his ugly visage and strong crooked fore-arm, as he was waiting admit- tance, having pounded upon the door. 270 A MODEL HOTEL. " Yait a bit. I'll shoost put on my trowsers," shouted a voice from the window, and the door was soon opened by the yawning landlord. "Morgen ! Didn't hear d' drain oncet. Dem boys geeps me up zo spate. Gora right in." Philip was shown into a dirty bar-room. It was a small room, with a stove in the middle, set in a long shallow box of sand, for tlie benefit of the " spitters," a bar across one end — a mere counter with a sliding glass-case behind it contain- ing a few bottles having ambitious labels, and a wash-sink in one corner. On the walls were the bright yellow and black handbills of a traveling circus, with pictures of acrobats in human pyramids, horses flying in long leaps through the air, and sjdph-like women in a paradisaic costume, balancing themselves upon the tips of their toes on the bare backs of frantic and plunging steeds, and kissing their hands to the spectators meanwhile. As I hilip did not desire a room at that hour, he was invi- ted to wash himself at the nasty sink, a feat somewhat easier than drying his face, for the towel that hung in a roller over the sink was evidently as much a fixture as the sink itself, and belonged, like the suspended brush and comb, to the traveling public. Philip managed to complete his toilet by the use of his pocket-handkerchief, and declining the hospitality of the landlord, implied in the remark, " Yoit won'd dake notin' ? " he went into the open air to wait for breakfast. The country he saw was wild but not picturesque. The mountain before him might be eight hundred feet high, and was only a portion of a long unbroken range, savagely wood- ed, which followed the stream. Behind the hotel, and across the brawling brook, was another level-topped, wooded range exactly like it. Ilium itself, seen at a glance, was old enough to be dilapidated, and if it had gained anything by beino- made a wood and water station of the new railroad, it was only a new sort of grime and rawness. P. Dusenheimer standing in the door of his uninviting groggery, when the trains stopped for water, never received from the traveling pub- lic any patronage except facetious remarks upon his personal A CALL TO BEEAICFAST. 271 appearance. Perhaps a thousand times he had heard the remark, " Ilium fuit," followed in most instances by a hail to him- self as " ^neas," with the inquiry "Where is old Anchises ? " At first he had replied, " Dere ain't no such man ; " but irrita- ted by its senseless repetition, lie had latterly dropped into the formula of, " You be dam." Philip was recalled from the contemplation of Ilium by the rolling and growling of the gong within the hotel, the din and clamor increasing till the house was apparently unable to contain it, when it bui-st out of the front door and informed the world that breakfast was on the table. The dining room was long, low and narrow, and a narrow table extended its whole length. Upon this was spread a cloth which from appearance might have been as long in use as the towel in the bar-room. Upon the table was the usual service, the heavy, much nicked stone ware, the row of plated and rusty castors, the sugar bowls with the zinc tea-spoous sticking up in them, the piles of yellow biscuits, the dis- couraged-looking plates of butter. The landlord waited, and Philip was pleased to observe the change in his manner. In the bar-room he was the conciliatory landlord. Standing behind his guests at table, he had an air of peremptory patronage, A PLEASING LANDLORD. and the voice in which he shot out the inquiry, as he seized Philip's plate, "Beefsteak or liver?" quite took away Philip's power of choice. He begged for a glass of milk, after trying 272 PHILIP IN THE HARNESS. that green lined compoimd called cofEee, and made his break- fast out of that and some hard crackers which seemed to have been imported into Ilium before the introduction of the iron horse, and to have withstood a ten years siege of regular boarders, Greeks and others. The land that Philip had come to look at was at least five miles distant from Ilium station. A corner of it touched the railroad, but the rest was pretty much an unbroken wilderness, eight or ten thousand acres of rough country, most of it such a mountain range as he saw at Ilium. His first step was to hire three woodsmen to accompany him. By their help he built a log hut, and established a camp on the land, and then began his explorations, mapping down his survey as lie went along, no- ting the timber, and the liiy of the land, and making superfi- cial observations as to the prospect of coal. The landlord at to persuade Philip to hire the ser- PBILIP HIKED TIIREI5 WOOnSMKN', Ilium endeavored vices of a witch-hazel professor of that region, who could walk over the land with his wand and tell him infallibly whether it contained coal, and exactly where the strata ran. But Philip preferred to trust to his own study of the country, MINING OPERATIONS. 2Y3 and his knowledge of the geological formation. He spent a month in traveling over the land and making calculations ; and made up his mind that a fine vein of coal ran through the mountain about a mile from the railroad, and that the place to run in a tunnel was half way towards its summit. Acting with his usual promptness, Philip, with the consent of Mr. Bolton, broke ground there at once, and, before snow came, had some rude buildings up, and was ready for active operations in the spring. It was true that there were no out- croppings of coal at the place, and the people at Ilium said he " mought as well dig for plug terbaccer there ; " but Philip had great faith in the uniformity of nature's operations in ages past, and he had no doubt that he should strike at this spot the rich vein that had made the fortune of the Golden Briar Company. 18- CHAPTER XXX. — " Gran pensier volgo ; e, se tu lui secondi, Seguiranno gli efifetti alle speranze : Tessi la tela, ch' io ti mostro ordita, Di cauto Teochio esecutrice ardita." " Belle domna vostre socors M'agra mestier, s'a tos plagues." B. de Veyitador. OlSTCE more Louise had good news from her Washington — Senator Dilworthy was going to sell the Tennessee Land to the government ! Louise told Laura in confidence. She had told her parents, too, and also several bosom friends ; but all of these people had simply looked sad when they heard the news, except Laura. Laura's face suddenly brightened under it — only for an instant, it is true, but poor Louise was grateful for even that fleeting ray of encoxiragement. When next Laura was alone, she fell into a train of thought some- thing like this : " If the Senator has really taken holji of this matter, I may look for that invitation to his house at any moment. I am perishing to go ! I do long to know whether I am only sim- ply a large-sized pigmy among these pigmies here, who tum- ble over so easily when one strikes them, or whether I am really — ." Her thoughts drifted into other channels, for a season. Then she continued :— " He said I could be useful 274 THE SENATOR SENDS LAURA AID AND COMFORT. 275 in the great cause of philanthropy, and help in the blessed work of uplifting the poor and the ignorant, if he found it feasible to take hold of our Land. Well, that is neither here nor there ; what I want, is to go to Washington and find out what I am. I want money, too ; and if one may judge by what she hears, there are chances there for a — ." For a fas- cinating woman, she was going to say, perhaps, but she did not. Along in the fall the invitation came, sure enough. It came officially through brother Washington, the private Sec- retary, who appended a postscript that was brimming with delight over the prospect of seeing the Duchess again. He said it would be happiness enough to look upon her face once more — ^it would be almost too much happiness when to it was added the fact that she would bring messages with her that were fresh from Louise's lips. In Washington's letter were several important enclosures. For instance, there w^s the Senator's check for $2,000 — " to buy suitable clothing in New York with ! " It was a loan to be refunded when the Land was sold. Two thousand — this was fine indeed. Louise's father was called rich, but Laura doubted if Louise had ever had $400 worth of new clothing at one time in her life. With the check came two through tickets — good on the railroad from Hawkeye to Washington via New York — and they were " dead-head " tickets, too, which had been given to Senator Dilworthy by the railway com- panies. Senators -and representatives were paid thousands of dollars by the government for traveling expenses, but they always traveled " dead-head " both ways, and then did as any honorable, high-minded men would naturally do — declined to receive the mileage tendered them by the government. The Senator had plenty of railway passes, and cou]d easily spare two to Laura — one for herself and one for a male escort. Washington suggested that she get some old friend of the family to come with her, and said the Senator would " dead- head " him home again as soon as he had grown tired of the 276 COL. SELLERS' OPINION OF HAEKY. sights of the capital. Laura thought the thing over. At first she was pleased with the idea, but presently she began to feel difiierently about it. Finally she said, "■ No, our staid, steady- going Hawkeye friends' notions and mine differ about some things — they respect me, now, and I respect them — better leave it so — I will go alone ; I am not afraid to travel by myself." And so communing with herself, she left the house for an afternoon walk. Almost at the door she met Col. Sellers. She told him about her invitation to Washington. " Bless me ! " said the Colonel. " I have about made up my mind to go there myself. You see we've got to get another appropriation through, and the Company want me to come east and put it through Congress. Harry's there, and he'll do what he can, of course ; and Harry's a good fellow and always does the very best he knows how, but then he's young — rather young for some parts of such work, you know — and besides he talks too much, talks a good deal too much ; and sometimes he appears to be a little bit visionary, too, I think — the worst thing in the world for a business man. A man like that always exposes his cards, sooner or later. This sort of thing wants an old, quiet, steady hand — wants an old cool head, you know, that knows men, through and through, and is used to large operations. I'm expecting my salary, and also some dividends from the company, and if they get along in time, I'll go along with you Laura — ^take you under my wing— you mustn't travel alone. Lord I wish I had the money right now. — But there'll be plenty soon — plenty." Laura reasoned with herself that if the kindly, simple- hearted Colonel was going anyhow, what could she gain by traveling alone and throwing away his company ? So she told him she accepted his offer gladly, gratefully. She said it would be the greatest of favors if he would go with her and protect her — not at his own expense as far as railway fares were concerned, of course ; she could not expect him to LATJEA AND COL. SELLERS VISIT WASHINGTON. 217 put himself to so much trouble for her and pay his fare besides. But he wouldn't hear of her paying his fare — it ■would be only a pleasure to him to serve her. Laura insisted on furnishing the tickets ; and finally, when argument failed, she said the tickets cost neither her nor any one else a cent — she had two of them — she needed but one — and if he would not take the other. she would not go with him. That settled the matter. He took the ticket. Laura was glad that she had the check for new clothing, for she felt very certain of being able to get the Colonel to borrow a little of the money to pay hotel bills with, here and there. She wrote Washington to look for her and Col. Sellers toward the end of November ; and at about the time set the two travelers arrived safe in the capital of the nation, sure enough. CHAPTER XXXI. Dch ! ben (6ra all' incontro ufficio umano, E bed n'aTresti tu gioja e diletto, Se la pietosa tua mediea mano Avviciuassi al raloroso petto. Tasso. She, graeiouB lady, yet no palnes did spare To doe him ease, or doe him remedy : Many restoratives ol vertues rare And costly cordialles she did apply, To mitigate his stubbome malady. Spenser's Faerie Queene. ME. BLENEY BEIEELT was exceedingly busy in New YorkjSO he wrote Col. Sellers, but he would drop every- thing and go to Washington. The Colonel believed that Harry was the prince of lobby- ists, a little too sanguine, may be, and given to speculation, but, then, he knew everybody ; the Columbus Eiver naviga- tion scheme was got through almost entirely by his aid. He was needed now to help through another scheme, a benevolent scheme in which Col. Sellers, through the Hawkinses, had a deep interest. " I don't care, you know," he wrote to Harry, " so much about the niggroes. But if the government will buy this land, it will set up the Hawkins family — make Laura an heiress — and I shouldn't wonder if Beriah Sellers would set up his carriage again. Dilworthy looks at it diiferent, of course. He's all for philanthropy, for benefiting the colored 278 THE BOLTONS. 279 BRO. BALAAM. race. There's old Balaam, was in the Interior — used to be the Eev. Orson Balaam of Iowa — he's made the rifSe on the Injun ; great Injun pacificator and land dealer. Balaam's got the Injun to himself, and I suppose that Sena- tor Dilworthy feels that there is nothing left him but the colored man. I do reckon he is the best friend the colored man has got in Washington." Though Harry was in a hurry to reach "Washington, he stopped in Philadelphia, and prolonged his visit day after day, greatly to the detriment of his business both in New York and "Wash- ington. The society at the Bolton's might have been a valid excuse for neglecting business much more impor- tant than his. Philip was there ; he was a partner with Mr. Bolton now in the new coal venture, concerning which there was much to be arranged in preparation for the Spring work, and Philip lingered week after week in the hospitable house. Alice was making a winter visit. Ruth only went to town twice a week to attend lectures, and the household was quite to Mr. Bolton's taste, for he liked the cheer of company and something going on evenings. Harry was cordially asked to bring his traveling-bag there, and he did not need urging to do so. Not even the thought of see- ing Laura at the capital made him restless in the society of the two young ladies ; two birds in hand are worth one in the bush certainly. Philip was at home — he sometimes wished he were not so much so. He felt that too much or not enough was taken for granted. Kuth had met him, when he first came, with a cordial frankness, and her manner continued entirely 280 LOVE MAKING. unrestrained. She neither sought his company nor avoided it, and this perfectly level treatment irritated him more than any other could have done. It vras impossible to advance much in love-making with one who offered no obstacles, had no concealments and no embarrassments, and whom any approach to sentimentality would be quite likely to set into a fit of laughter. " Why, Phil," she would say, " what puts you in the dumps to day ? You are as solemn as the upper bench in Meeting. I shall have to call Alice to raise your spirits ; my presence seems to depress you." " It's not your presence, but your absence when you are present," began Philip, dolefully, with the idea that he was saying a rather deep thing. " But you won't understand me." " N"o, I confess I cannot. If you really are so low as to think I am absent when I am present, it's a frightful case of aberration ; I shall ask father to bring out Dr. Jackson Does Alice appear to be present when she is absent ?" " Alice has some human feeling, anyway. She cares for something besides musty books and dry bones. I think, Euth, when I die," said Philip, intending to be very grim and sarcastic, " I'll leave you my skeleton. You might like that." " It might be more cheerful than you are at times," Kuth replied with a laugh. " But you mustn't do it without con- sulting Alice. She might not like it." " I don't know why you should bring Alice up on every occasion. Do you think I am in love with her ?" " Bless you, no. It never entered my head. Are you? The thought of Philip Sterling in love is too comical. I thought you were only in love with the Ilium coal mine, which you and father talk about half the time." This is a specimen of Philip's wooing. Confound the girl, he would say to himself, why does she never tease Harry and that young Shepley who comes here ? How differently Alice treated him. She at least never SISTERLY CONSOLATION. 281 mocked him, and it was a relief to talk with one who had some sympathy with him. And he did talk to her, by the hour, about Euth. The blundering fellow poured all his doubts and anxieties into her ear, as if she had been the impassive occupant of one of those little wooden confessionals in the Cathedral on Logan Square. Has a confessor, if she is young and pretty, any feeling ? Does it mend the matter by calling her your sister ? Philip called Alice his good sister, and talked to her about love and marriage, meaning Ruth, as if sisters could by no possibility have any personal concern in such things. Did Kuth ever speak of him ? Did she think Euth cared for him? Did Ruth care for anybody at Fallkill? Did she care for anything except her profession ? And so on. Alice was loyal to Ruth, and if she knew anything she did not betray her friend. She did not, at any rate, give Philip too much encouragement. What woman, under the circum- stances, would ? " I can teU you one thing, Philip," she said, " if ever Ruth Bolton loves, it will be with her whole soul, in a depth of passion that will sweep everything before it and surprise even herself." A remark that did not much console Philip, who imagined that only some grand heroism could unlock the sweetness of such a heart ; and Philip feared that he wasn't a hero. He did not know out of what materials a woman can construct a hero, when she is in the creative mood. Harry skipped into this society with his usual lightness and gaiety. His good nature was inexhaustible, and though he liked to relate his own exploits, he had a little tact in adapt- ing himself to the tastes of his hearers. He was not long in finding out that Alice liked to hear about Philip, and Harry launched out into the career of his friend in the "West, with a prodigality of invention that would have astonished the chief actor. He was the most generous fellow in the world, and picturesque conversation was the one thing in which he never was bankrupt. "With Mr. Bolton he was the serious man of 282 HAEKY AS A QUAKER. business, enjoying the confidence of many of thetnonied men in New York, whom Mr. Bolton knew, and engaged with them in railway schemes and government contracts. Philip, who had so long known Harry, never could make up his mind that Harry did not himself believe that he was a chief actor in all these large operations of which he talked so much. Harry did not neglect to endeavor to make himself agree- able to Mrs. Bolton, by paying great attention to the chil- dren, and by professing the warmest interest in the Friends' faith. It always seemed to him the most peaceful religion; he thought it must be much easier to live by an internal light than by a lot of outward rules ; he had a dear Quaker aunt in Providence of whom Mrs. Bolton constantly reminded him. He insisted upon going with Mrs. Bolton and the chil- dren to the Friends Meeting on First Day, when Euth and Alice and Philip, " world's people," went to a church in town, and he sat through the hour of silence with his hat on, in most exemplary patience. In short, this amazing actor suc- ceeded so well with Mrs. Bolton, that she said to Philip one day, " Thy friend, Henry Brierly, appears to be a very worldly- minded young man. Does he believe in anything ? " " Oh, yes," said Philip laughing, " he believes in more things than any other person 1 ever saw." To Ruth Harry seemed to be very congenial. He was never moody for one thing, but lent himself with alacrity to what- ever her fancy was. He was gay or grave as the need might be. No one apparently could enter more fully into her plans for an independent career. "My father," said Harry, "was bred a physician, and practiced a little before he went into "Wall street. I always had a leaning to the study. There was a skeleton hanging in the closet of my father's study when I was a boy, that I used to dress up in old clothes. Oh, I got quite familiar with the human frame." "You must have," said Philip. "Was that where you HAERY THINKS OF STUDYING MEDICINE. 283 learned to play the bones ? He is a master of those musical instruments, Kuth ; he plays well enough to go on the stage." " Philip hates science of any kind, and steady application," retorted Harry. He didn't fancy Philip's banter, and when the latter had gone out, and Kuth asked, " "Why don't you take up medicine, Mr. Brierly ? " Harry said, " I have it in mind. I believe I would begin attending lectures this winter if it weren't for being wanted in Washington. But medicine is particularly women's prov- ince." " "Why so ? " asked Ruth, rather amused. " "Well, the treatment of disease is a good deal a matter of sympathy. A woman's intuition is better thai! a man's. Nobody knows anything, really, you know, and a woman can guess a good deal nearer than a man." " You are very complimentary to my sex." " But," said Harry frankly, " I should want to choose my doctor ; an ugly woman would ruin me, the disease would be sure to strike in and kill me at sight of her. I think a pretty physician, with engaging manners, would coax a fellow to live through almost anything." " I am afraid you are a scoffer, Mr. Brierly." " On the contrary, I am quite sincere. Wasn't it old what's his name ? that said only the beaiitif ul is useful ? " Whether Path was anything more than diverted with Harry's company, Philip could not determine. He scorned at any rate to advance his own interest by any disparaging communications about Harry, both because he could not help liking the fellow himself, and because he may have known that he could not more surely create a sympathy for him in Euth's mind. That Euth was in no danger of any serious impression he felt pretty sure, felt certain of it when he reflected upon her severe occupation with her profession. Hang it, he would say to himself, she is nothing but pure intellect anyway. And he only felt uncertain of it when she was in one of her moods of raillery, with mocking mischief in her eyes. At such times she seemed to prefer Harry's 284 EUTH HAS A PEEMONITION. society to his. When Philip was miserable about this, he always took refuge with Alice, who was never moody, and who generally laughed him out of his sentimental nonsense. He felt at his ease with Alice, and was never in want of something to talk about ; and he could not account for the fact that he was so often dull with Ruth, with whom, of all persons in the world, he wanted to appear at his best. Harry was entirely satisfied with his own situation. A bird of passage is always at its ease, having no house to build, and no responsibility. He talked freely with Philip about Kuth, an almighty fine girl, he said, but what the deuce she wanted to study medicine for, he couldn't see. There was a concert one night at the Musical Fund Hall and the four had arranged to go in and return by the Ger- mantown cars. It was Philip's plan, who had engaged the seats, and promised himself an evening with Kuth, walking with her, sitting by her in the hall, and enjoying the feeling of protecting that a man always has of a woman in a public place. He was fond of music, too, in a sympathetic way ; at least, he knew that Ruth's delight in it would be enough for him. Perhaps he meant to take advantage of the occasion to say some very serious things. His love for Ruth was no secret to Mrs. Bolton, and he felt almost sure that he should have no opposition in the family. Mrs. Bolton had been cautious in what she said, but Philip inferred everything from her reply to his own questions, one day, " Has thee ever spoken ■ thy mind to Ruth ?" "Why shouldn't he speak his mind, and end his doubts ? Ruth had been more tricksy than usual that day, and in a flow of spirits quite inconsistent, it would seem, in a yoim^ lady devoted to grave studies. Had Ruth a premonition of Philip's intention, in his man- ner ? It may be, for when the girls came down stairs, ready to walk to the cars, and met Philip and Harry in the hall Ruth said, laughing, " The two tallest must walk together," and before Philip FIBE! FIRE! FIRE! 285 knew how it happened Euth had taken Harry's arm, and his evening was spoiled. He had too much pohteness and good sense and kindness to show in his manner that he was hit. So he said to Harry, " That's your disadvantage in being short." And he gave Alice no reason to feel during the evening that she would not have been his first choice for the excursion. But he was none the less chagrined, and not a little angry at the turn the affair took. The Hall was crowded with the fashion of the town. — The concert was one of those fragmentary drearinesses that people endure because they are fashionable ; tours deforce on the piano, and fragments from operas, which have no mean- ing without the setting, with weary pauses of waiting between ; there is the comic basso who is so amusing and on such famil- iar terms with the audience, and always sings the Barber ; the attitudinizing tenor, with his languishing " Oh, Summer Night ;" the soprano with her " Batti Batti," who warbles and trills and runs and fetches her breath, and ends with a noble scream that brings down a tempest of applause in the midst of which she backs off the stage smiling and bowing. It was this sort of concert, and Philip was thinkij^ that it was the most stupid one he ever sat through, when just as the soprano was in the midst of that touching ballad, " Comin' thro' the Eye " (the soprano always sings " Comin' thro' the Eye " on an encore — the Black Swan used to make it irresistible, Philip remembered, with her arch, " If a body kiss a body ") there was a cry of Fire ! The hall is long and narrow, and there is only one place of egress. Instantly the audience was on its feet, and a rush began for the door. Men shouted, women screamed, and panic seized the swaying mass. A second's thought would have convinced every one that getting out was impossible, and that the only effect of a rush would be to crash people to death. But a second's thought was not given. A few cried " Sit down, sit down," but the mass was turned towards the door. Women were down and trampled on in the aisles, and 286 PHILIP FACES THE PANIC-STRUCK CROWD. stout men, utterly lost to self-control, were mounting the benches, as if to run a race over the mass to the entrance. Philip who had forced the girls to keep their seats saw, in a flash, the new danger, and sprang to avert it. In a second more those infuriated men would be over the benches and crushing Euth and Alice under their boots. He leaped upon the bench in front of them and struck out before him with all his might, felling one man who was rushing on him, and THE FIKE PANIC checking for an instant the movement, or rather parting it, and causing it to flow on either side of him. But it was only for an instant ; the pressure behind was too great, and the next Philip was daslied backwards over the seat. UUTH ASSISTS IN DRESSING PHILLIP'S AMI. RUTH'S FIRST PATIENT. 287 And yet tliat instant of arrest had probably saved the girls, for as Pliilip fell, the orchestra struck up " Yankee Doodle " in the liveliest manner. The familiar tune caught the ear of the mass, which paused in wonder, and gave the conduc- tor's voice a chance to be heard — " It's a false alarm !" The tumult was over in a minute, and the next, laughter was heard, and not a few said, "I knew it wasn't anything." " What fools people are at such a time." The concert was over, however. A good many people were hurt, some of them seriously, and among them Philip' Sterling was found bent across the seat, insensible, with his left arm hanging limp and a bleeding wound on his head. "When he was carried into the air he revived, and said it was nothing. A surgeon was called, and it was thought best to drive at once to the Bolton's, the surgeon supporting Philip, who did not speak tLe whole way. His arm was set and his head dressed, and the surgeon said he would come round all right in his mind by morning ; he was very weak. Alice who was not much frightened while the panic lasted in the hall, was very much unnerved by seeing Philip so pale and bloody. Kuth assisted the surgeon with the utmost coolness and with skillful hands helped to dress Philip's wounds. And there was a certain in tentness and fierce energy in what she did that might have revealed something to Philip if he had been in his senses. But he was not, or he would not have murmured " Let Alice do it, she is not too tall." It was Euth's first case. CHAPTER XXXTI. Lo, swiche sleightes and subtiltees In women ben ; for ay as besy as bees Ben they us sely men for to deceive, And from a sothe wol they ever weive. Chaucer. WASHINGTON'S delight in Ins beautiful sister was measureless. He said that she had always been the queenliest creature in the land, but that she was only common- place before, compared to what she was now, so extraordinary was the improvement wrought by rich fashionable attire. " But your criticisms are too full of brotherly partiality to be depended on, Washington. Other people will judge dif- ferently." " Indeed they won't. You'll see. There will never be a woman in Washington that can compare with you. You'll be famous within a fortnight, Laura. Everybody will want to know you. You wait — you'll see." Laura wished in her heart that the prophecy might come true ; and privately she even believed it might — for she had brought all the women whom she had seen since she left home under sharp inspection, and the result had not been unsatisfactory to her. During a week or two Washington drove about the city every day with her and familiarized her with all of its sali- ent features. She was beginning to feel very much at home with the town itself, and she was also fast acquiring ease with 288 LAUEA FINDS HERSELF BECOMING FAMOUS. 289 the distinguislied people she met at the Dilworthy table, and losing what little of country timidity she had brought with her from Hawkeye. She noticed with secret pleasure the little start of admiration that always manifested itself in the faces of the guests when she entered the drawingjoom arrayed in evening costume : — she took comforting note of the fact that these guests directed a very liberal share of their conver- sation toward her ; she observed with surprise, that famous statesmen and soldiers did not talk like gods, as a general thing, but said rather commonplace things for the most part; and she was filled with gratification to discover that she, on the contrary, was making a good many shrewd speeches and now and then a really brilliant one, and furthermore, that they were beginning to be repeated in social circles about the town. Congress began its sittings, and every day or two "Wash- ington escorted her to the galleries set apart for lady mem- bers of the households of Senators and Eepresentatives. Here was a larger field and a wider competition, but still she saw that many eyes were uplifted toward her face, and that first one person and then another called a neighbor's attention to her ; she was not too dull to perceive that the speeches of some of the younger statesmen were delivered about as much and perhaps more at her than to the presiding officer ; and she was not sorry to see that the dapper young Senator from Iowa came at once and stood in the open ' space before the president's desk to exhibit his feet as soon as she entered the gallery, whereas she had early learned from common report that his usual custom was to prop them on his desk and enjoy them himself with a selfish disregard of other people's longings. Invitations began to flow in upon her and soon she was fairly " in society." "The season " was now in full bloom, and the first select reception was at hand — that is to say, a reception confined to invited guests. Senator Dilworthy had become well convinced, by this 19- 290 THE riRST RECEPTION. time, that his judgment of the country-bred Missouri girl had not deceived him — it was plain that she was going to be a peerless missionary in the field of labor he designed her for, and therefore it would be perfectly safe and likewise judicious to send her forth well panoplied for her work. — So he had added new and still richer costumes to her wardrobe, and assisted their attractions with costly jewelry — loans on the future land sale. This first select reception took place at a cabinet minister's — or rather a cabinet secretary's — mansion. When Laura and the Senator arrived, about half past nine or ten in the evening, the place was already pretty well crowded, and the white-gloved negro servant at the door was still receiving streams of guests. — The drawing-rooms were brilliant with gaslight, and as hot as ovens. The host and hostess stood just within the door of entrance ; Laura was presented, and then she passed on into the maelstrom of be-jeweled and richly attired low-necked ladies and white-kid-gloved and steel pen-coated gentlemen — and wherever she moved she was fol- lowed by a buzz of adniiration that was grateful to all her senses — so grateful, indeed, that her white face was tinged and its beauty heightened by a perceptible suffusion of color. She caught such remarks as, "Who is she?" "Superb woman !" " That is the new beauty from the west," etc., etc. Whenever she halted, she was presently surrounded by Ministers, Generals, Congressmen, and all manner of aristo- cratic people. Introductions followed, and then the usual original question, " How do you like Washington, Miss Haw- kins ?" supplemented by that other usual original question, " Is this your first visit ?" These two exciting topics being exhausted, conversation generally drifted into calmer channels, only to be interrupted at frequent intervals by new introductions and new inqidries as to how Laura liked the capital and whether it was her first visit or not. And thus for an hour or more the Duchess moved through the crush in a rapture of happi- THE EEIGNING BELLE. 291 ness, for her doubts were dead and gone, now — she knew she. conld conqTier here. A familiar face appeared in the midst of the multitude and Harry Brierly fought his difficult way to THE FIRST RECEPTION. her side, his eyes shouting their gratification, so to speak : " Oh, this *s a happiness ! Tell me, my dear Miss Hawkins — " " 8h ! I know what you are going to ask. I do like Washington — I like it ever so much ! " " No, but I was going to ask — " " Yes, I am coming to it, coming to it as fast as I can. It is my first visit. I think you should know that yourself." And straightway a wave of the crowd swept her beyond his reach. "Now what can the girl mean? Of course she likes Washington — I'm not such a dummy as to have to ask her that. And as to its being her first visit, why hang it, she knows that I Tcnew it was. Does she think I have turned 292 HARRY TRIES A COUNTER IRRITANT. idiot? Curious girl, anyway. But how they do swarm about her ! She is the reigning belle of Washington after this night. She'll know iive hundred of the heaviest guns in the town before this night's nonsense is over. And this isn't even the beginning. Just as I used to say — she'll be a card in the matter of — yes sir ! She shall turn the men's heads and I'll turn the women's ! What a team that will be iu politics here. I wouldn't take a quarter of a million for what I can do in this present session — no indeed I wouldn't. ISTow, here — I don't altogether like this. That insignificant secretary of legation is — why, she's smiling on him as if he — and now on the Admiral! Now she's illuminating that stuffy Congressman from Massachusetts — vulgar ungrammat- cal shovel-maker — greasy knave of spades. I don't like this sort of thing. She doesn't appear to be much distressed about me — she hasn't looked this way once. All right, my bird of Paradise, if it suits you, go on. But I think I know your sex. ni go to smiling around a little, too, and see what effect that will have on you." And he did " smile around a httle," and got as near to her as he could to watch the effect, but the scheme was a failure — he could not get her attention. She seemed wholly uncon- scious of him, and so he could not flirt with any spirit ; he could only talk disjointedly ; he could not keep his eyes on the charmers he talked to ; he grew irritable, jealous, and very unhappy. He gave up his enterprise, leaned his shoulder against a fluted pilaster and pouted while he kept watch upon Laura's every movement. His other shoulder stole the bloom from many a lovely cheek that brushed him in the surging crush, but he noted it not. He was too busy cursing himself inwardly for being an egotistical imbecile. An hour ago he had thought to take this country lass under his protection and show her "life" and enjoy her wonder and delight — and here she was, immersed in the marvel up to her eyes, and just a trifle more at home in it than he was him- self. And now his angry comments ran on again : " Now she's sweetening old Brother Balaam ; and he — well HAKEY GETS INFORMATION. 293 he is inviting her to the Congressional prayer-meeting, no doubt — better let old Dilworthy alone to see that she doesn't overlook that. And now its Splurge, of E"ew York ; and now its Batters of New Hampshire — and now the Yice President ! Well I may as well adjourn. I've got enough." Eut he hadn't. He got as far as the door — and then struggled back to take one more look, hating himself all the while for his weakness. Toward midnight, when supper was announced, the crowd thronged to the supper room where a long table was decked out with what seemed a rare repast, but which con- sisted of things better calculated to feast the eye than the appetite. The ladies were soon seated in files along the wall, and in groups here and there, and the colored waiters filled the plates and glasses and the male guests moved hither and thither conveying them to the privileged sex. Harry took an ice and stood up by the table with other gentlemen, and listened to the buzz of conversation while he ate. From these remarks he learned a good deal about Laura that was news to him. For instance, that she was of a dis- tinguished western family ; that she was highly educated ; that she was very rich and a great landed heiress ; that she was not a professor of religion, and yet was a Christian in the truest and best sense of the word, for her whole heart was devoted to the accomplishment of a great and noble enterprise — none other than the sacrificing of her landed estates to, the uplifting of the down-trodden negro and the turning of his erring feet into the way of light and righteous- ness. Harry observed that as soon as one listener had absorbed the story, he turned about and delivered it to his next neighbor and the latter individual straightway passed it on. And thus he saw it travel the round of the gentlemen and overflow rearward among the ladies. He could not trace it backward to its fountain head, and so he could not tell who it was that started it. One thing annoyed Harry a great deal ; and that was the 294 THE PEACOCK CLOSES HIS FEATHEES. reflection that he might have been in Washington days and days ago and thrown his fascinations about Laura with per- manent effect while she was new and strange to the capital, instead of dawdling in Philadelphia to no purpose. He feared he had " missed a trick," as he expressed it. He only found one little opportunity of speaking again with Laura before the evening's festivities ended, and then, for the first time in years, his airy self-complacency failed him, his tongue's easy confidence forsook it in a great meas- ure, and he was conscious of an unheroic timidity. He was glad to get away and find a place where he could despise himself in private and try to grow his clipped plumes again. When Laura reached home she was tired but exultant, and Senator Dilworthy was pleased and satisfied. He called Laura "my daughter," next morning, and gave her some " pin money," as he termed it, and she sent a hundred and fifty dollars of it to her mother and loaned a trifle to Col. Sellers. Then the Senator had a long private conference with Laura, and anfolded certain plans of his for the good of the country, and religion, and the poor, and temperance, " and showed her how she could assist him in developing these worthy and noble enterprises. .-^UFTS?^- if-i-'': i" 'ISf CHAPTER XXXIII. — Itancan Iliduhomni eciyapi, Itanean Tohanokihi-eca eciyapi, Itancan lapi- waxte eciyapi, he hunkakewicaye cin etanhan otoiiwe kin caxtonpi; nakuu Akicita Wicaxta-ceji-skuya, Akicita Anogite, Akicita Taku-kaxta— pe richeste tvifmen alle : pat were in londe, and pere hehere monnen dohtere pere wes moni pal hende : on faire pa uolke. par was mochel honde : of manicunnes londe, , for ech wende to beon . betere pan oper. Layamon. LAtTEA soon discovered that there were three distinct ari&r tocracies in Washington. One of these, (nipk-named the Antiques.) consisted of cultivated, high-bred old fami- lies who looked back with pride upon an ancestry that had been always great in the nation's councils and its wars from the birth of the republic downward. Into this select circle it was ditSeult to gain admission. No. 2 was the aristocracy of the middle ground — of which, more anon. No. 3 lay beyond ; of it we will say a word here. We will call ittjje Aristocracy of the Parvenus — as, indeedj_the£eneral public^id. Official position, nS" mailer hu w^oBtained, enFitled a man to a place ~in it7 an d carried hisfamily wi th him, no matter whence the y spr^m g^ G - real wealllr gaSi- « ma n:"a^till higher and noHerplacein" it than did official position. If this wealth had been— acquired by oon o piouo trg-rngenuity, with just a pleasantliTtfe- cpico of illegality abou t it, all the better. This ariBtocracYwas ?fast." and no t averse to ostentation. 295 296 SOCIETY CUSTOMS. The aristocracy of the Antiques ignored the ariatocracy of the PWgennSpare-gflTVPnnsi l^mghed at the Antir[nRS^(and seeretlyLjenjdedihem.) There were certain important " society " cnstoms which one ' in Laura's position needed to understand. For in- stance, when a lady of any prominence comes to one of our cities and talces up her residence, all the ladies of her grade favor her in turn with an initial call, giving their cards to the servant at the door by way of introduction. They come singly, sometimes ; sometimes in couples ; — and always in elaborate full dress. They talk two minutes and a quarter and then go. If the lady receiving the call desires a further acquaintance, she must return the visit witliin two weeks ; to neglect it beyond that time means " let the matter drop." Eut if she does return the visit within two weeks, it then becomes the other party's privilege to continue the acquaintance or drop it. She signifies her willingness to con- tinue it by calling again any time within twelve months ; after that, if the parties go on calling upon each other once a year, in our large cities, that is sufficient, and the acquaintance- ship holds good. The thing goes along smoothly, now. The annual visits are made and returned with peaceful regularity and bland satisfaction, although it is not necessary that the two ladies shall actually see each other oftener than once every few years. Their cards preserve the intimacy and keep the acquaintanceship intact. For instance, Mrs. A. pays her annual visit, sits in her car- riage and sends in her card with the lower right hand corner turned down, which signifies that she has " called in person ;" Mrs. B. sends down word that she is " engaged " or " wishes to be excused " — or if she is a Parvenu and low-bred, she perhaps sends word that she is " not at home." Yery good ; Mrs. A. drives on happy and content. If Mrs. A.'s daughter marries, or a child is born to the family, Mrs. B. calls, sends in her card with the upper left hand corner turned down, and then goes along about her affiiirs — for that inverted corner means " Congratulations." If Mrs. B.'s husband falls down THE ANTIQUES. 297 stairs and breaks his neck, Mrs. A. calls, leaves her card with the upper right hand corner turned down, and then takes her departure ; this corner means " Condolence." It is very necessary to get the corners right, else one may unintention- ally condole with a friend on a wedding or congratulate her upon a funeral. If either lady is about to leave the city, she goes to the other's house and leaves her card with " P. P. C." engraved under the name — which signifies, "Pay Parting Call." But enough of etiquette. Laura was early instructed in the mysteries of society life by a competent mentor, and thus was preserved from troublesome mistakes. The first fashionable call she received from a member of the ancient nobility, otherwise the Antiques, was of a pat- tern with all she received from that limb of the aristocracy afterward. This call was paid by Mrs. Major-General Fulke- Fulkerson and daughter. They drove up at one in the after- noon in a rather antiquated vehicle with a faded coat of arms on the panels, an aged white-wooled negro coachman on the box and a younger darkey beside him — the , footman. Both of these servants were .J5«^ THE ATTACB:£s op the ANTIQmS. full character ; that is to say, with Elizabethan stateliness on the part of the dowager, and an easy grace and dignity on the 298 DEEPLY INTERESTING. part of the young lady that had a nameless something about it that suggested conscious superiority. The dresses of both ladies were exceedingly rich, as to material, but as notably modest as to color and ornament. All parties having seated themselves, the dowager delivered herself of a remark that was not unusual in its form, and yet it came from her lips with the impressiveness of Scripture : " The weather has been unpropitious of late. Miss Haw- kins." " It has indeed," said Laura. " The climate seems to be variable." " It is its nature of old, here," said the daughter — stating it apparently as a fact, only, and by her manner waving aside all personal responsibility on account of it. " Is it not so, mamma ? " " Quite so, my child. Do you like winter. Miss Hawkins ?" She said " like '" as if she had an idea that its dictionary meaning was " approve of." " Not as well as summer — though I think all seasons have their charms." " It is a very just remark. The general held similar views. He considered snow in winter proper ; sultriness in summer legitimate ; frosts in the autumn the same, and rains in spring not objectionable. He was not an exacting man. And I call to mind now that he always admired thunder. You remember, child, your father always admired thunder ? " " He adored it." " No doubt it reminded him of battle," said Laura. " Yes, I think perhaps it did. He had a great respect for Nature. He often said there w^as something striking about the ocean. You remember his saying that, daughter? " . " Yes, often, mother. I remember it very well." " And hurricanes. He took a great interest in hurricanes. And animals. Hogs, especially — ^hunting dogs. Also comets. I think we all have our predilections. I think it is this that gives variety to our tastes." Laura coincided with this view. NEWPORT VS. LONG BRANCH. 299 " Do you find it hard and lonely to be 60 far from your home and friends, Miss Hawkins ? " " I do find it depressing sometimes, but then there is so much about me here that is novel and interesting that my days are made up more of sunshine than shadow." " "Washington is not a dull city in the season," said the young lady. " We have some very good society indeed, and one need not be at a loss for means to pass the time pleas- antly. Are you fond of watering-places. Miss Hawkins ? " " I have really had no experience of them, but I have al- ways felt a strong desire to see something of fashionable watering-place life." "We of Washington are unfortunately situated in that respect," said the dowager. "It is a tedious distance to Newport. But there is no help for it." Laura said to herself, " Long Branch and Cape May are nearer than Newport ; doubtless these places are low ; I'll feel my way a little and see." Then she said aloud : " Why I thought that Long Branch—" There was no need to " feel " any further — there was that in both faces before her which made that truth apparent. The dowager said : " Nobody goes there, Miss Hawkins — at least only persons of no position in society. And the President." She added that with tranquility. " Newport is damp, and cold, and windy and excessively disagreeable," said the daughter, " but it is very select. One cannot be fastidious about minor matters when one has no choice." The visit had spun out nearly three minutes, now. Both ladies rose with grave dignity, conferred upon Laura a formal invitation to call, and then retired from the conference. Laura remained in the drawing-room and left them to pilot themselves out of the house — an inhospitable thing, it seemed to her, but then she was following her instructions. She stood, steeped in reverie, a while, and then she said : 300| THE PARVENUS. " I think I could always enjoy icebergs — as scenery — ^but not as company." Still, she knew these two people by reputation, and was aware that they were not ice-bergs when they were in their own waters and amid their legitimate surroundings, but on the contrary were people to be respected for their stainless characters and esteemed for their social virtues and their benevolent impulses. She thought it a pity that they had to be such changed and dreary creatures on occasions of state. The first call Laura received from the other extremity of the Washington aristocracy followed close upon the heels of the one we have just been describing. The callers this time were the Hon. Mrs. Oliver Higgins, the Hon. Mrs. Patrique Oreille (pronounced 0-relay,) Miss Bridget (pronounced Breezhay) Oreille, Mrs. Peter Gashly, Miss Gashly, and Miss Emmeline Gashly. The three carriages arrived at the same moment from dif- ferent directions. They were new and wonderfully shiny, and the brasses on the harness were highly polished and bore complicated monograms. There were showy coats of arms, too, with Latin mottoes. The coachmen and footmen were clad in bright new livery, of striking colors, and they had black rosettes with shaving-brushes projecting above them, on the sides of their stove-pipe hats. When the visitors swept into the drawing-room they filled the place with a suffocating sweetness procured at the per- fumer's. Their costumes, as to architecture, were the latest fashion intensified ; they were rainbow-hued ; they were hung with jewels — chiefly diamonds. It would have been plain to any eye that it had cost something to upholster these women. The Hon. Mrs. Oliver Higgins was the wife of a delegate from a distant territory — a gentleman who had kept the princi- pal "saloon," and sold the best whiskey in the principal village in his wilderness, and so, of course, was recognized as the first man of his commonwealth and its fittest representative. AN ELEGANT HONORABLE. 301 Se was a man of paramount influence at home, for he was public spirited, he was chief of the fire department, he had an admirable commaiid of profane language, and had killed several " parties." His shirt fronts were always immaculate ; his boots daintily polished, and no man could lift a foot and fire a dead shot at a stray speck of dirt, on it with a white handkerchief with a finer grace than he ; his watch chain weighed a pound ; the gold in his finger ring was worth forty five dollars ; he wore a diamond cluster-pin and he parted his hair behind. He had always been re- garded as the most elegant gen- tleman in his territory, and it was conceded by all that no man there- ^ abouts was anywhere near his equal in the telling of an obscene story except the venerable white- haired governor himself. The^;^ Hon. Higgins had not come to\ " serve his country in "Washington ''■ "^ for nothing. The appropriation which he had engineered through Congress for the maintenance of the Indians in his Territory would have made all those savages rich if it had ever got to them. The Hon. Mrs. Higgins was a picturesque woman, and a fluent talker, and she held a tolera- bly high station among the Parvenus. Pier English was fair enough, as ageneral thing — though, being of New York origin, she had the fashion peculiar to many natives of that city of pronouncing saw and law as if they were spelt sawr and lawr. Petroleum was the agent that had suddenly transformed the Gashlys from modest liard-wqrking country village folk into " loud " aristocrats and ornaments of the city. The Hon. Patrique Oreille was a wealthy Frenchman from Cork. I^ot that he was wealthy when he first came from Cork, but just the reverse. When he first landed in New HON. OLIVER HIGOINS. sua / A FRENCHMAJN JiKUM UUKtt.. York with his wife, he had only halted at Castle Garden for a few minutes to receive and exhibit papers showing that he had resided in this country two years — and then he voted the democratic ticket and went up town to hunt a house. He found one and then went to work as assistant to an architect and builder, carrying a hod all day and studying politics evenings. Industry and economy soon enabled him to start a low rum shop in a foul locality, and this gave him political influence. ) I n our eount iy it is always our first care to PAT o'rILET and the OtJLD WOMAN. s ee that our people have the opport unity of voting for tEeir c hoice of men to represent and gover n ttiem — we do not~^ r- mit our great officials to appoint the li ttle olficialS;___I^ie^i:efer \ to jiavft sn trgrrifiTidnuR a power as that m oiir own hands. We Ihold it safest to elect our nudges and evei'ybudy else -^ .,-- ^ In our lei ties, the ward meetings elect delegates t o the nominatingc on- /ventions and instruct; them whom to nominate. The publi- cans~and their retainers l-ulB Jhe -tvard meetings (for every- body else hates'thS'worry of politics and stays at home) ; the delegates from the ward meetings organize as a nominating convention and make up a list of candidates — one convention offering a dem9cratic and another a republican list of — incor- ruptibles ; audi then the great meek public come forward at the proper finite and make unhampered" choice and bless Heaven that they live in a free land where no form of despo- tism can ever intrude. , Patrick -O'Riley (as his name then stood) created friends and influence very fast, for he was always on hand at the police courts to give straw bail for his customers or establish an aUbi for them in case they had been beating anybody to death HOW MR. O'RILEY SERVED HIS COUNTRY. 303 on his premises. Consequently he presently became a political leader, and was elected to a petty office under the city govern- ment. Out of a meager salary he soon saved money enough to open quite a stylish liquor saloon higher up town, with a faro bank attached and plenty of capital to conduct it with. This gave him fame and great respectability. The position of alderman was forced upon him, and it was just the same as presenting him a gold mine. He had fine horses and car- riages, now, and closed up his whiskey mill. - — By and by he became a large contractor for city work, and was a bosom friend of the great and good "Wm. M. Weed himself, who had stolen $20,000,000 from the city and was a man so envied, so honored, so adored, indeed, that when the sheriff went to his office to arrest him as a felon, that sheriff blushed and apologized, and one of the illustrated papers made a picture of the scene and spoke of the matter in such a way as to show that the editor regretted that the offense of an arrest had been offered to so exalted a personage as Mr. Wieed. Mr. O'Eiley furnished shingle nails to the new Court House at three thousand dollars a keg, and eighteen gross of 60-cent thermometers at fifteen hundred dollars a dozen ; the controller and the board of audit passed the bills, and a mayor, who was simply ignorant but not criminal, signed them. When they were paid, Mr. O'Kiley's admirers gave him a solitaire diamond pin of the size of a filbert, in imitation of the liberality of Mr. Weed's friends, and then Mr. O'Riley retired from active service and amused himself with buying real estate at enormous figures and holding it in other peo- ple's names. By and by the newspaper s came out with ex- pos ures and called W eed and'(J*B,iley '^ thieves," — whe reupon {Ee peopl e rose as one man (voting repeatedly) and elected the two gentlemen to" their proper theatre of dcLJOii, Lhe!N"ew ' 'Yo rfe-legislature. The newspapers clamored, and the courts proceeded to try the new legislators for their small irregu- larities. Our admirable jury system enabled the persecuted ex-officials to secure a jury of nine gentlemen from a 304 THE HON. P. OREILLE VISITS EUROPE. neighboring asylum and three graduates from Sing-Sing, and presently they walked forth with characters vindicated. The Jpgi'alntnrp wg.cjc alled npon to sppw tViPm fartli — athjngwhjc h^ the legislature declined to do. It was like askin g chil dren to rppiTHi3ifl_h'hpir nwn fa.t.Vi er. Tt was a legislature of the Modern pattern. Jimgnoww^althy and distinguished, Mr. O'Eiley, still bearing the legislative "Hon." attached to his name (for titles never die in America, although we do take a republi- can pride in poking fun at such trifles), sailed for Europe with his family. They traveled all about, turning their noses up at every thing, and not finding it a difficult thing to do, either, because nature had originally given those fea- tures a cast in that direction;^ and finally they established themselves in Pai-is, that Paradise of Americans of their sort. — They staid there two years and learned to speak Eng- lish with a foreign accent— not that it hadn't always had a foreign accent (which was indeed the case) but now the nature of it was changed. ■t5S> ^S"- Finally they returned home and became nltra fashion- ables. They landed here as the Hon. Patriqne Oreille and family, and so are known unto this day. Laura provided seats for her visitors and they im- mediately launched forth into a breezy, sparkling conversation with that easy HON. p. OB.ILX.E AND LADT. confidence which Is to be found only among persons accustomed to high life. " I've been intending to call sooner. Miss Hawkins," said the Hon. Mrs. Oreill6, but the weather's been so horrid. How do you like Washington ?" Lanra liked it very well indeed. THE PARVENUS CONVERSE. 305 Mrs. Oashly — " Is it your first visit ? " Yet;, it was her first. J^^Z— "Indeed?" Mrs. Oreille — " I'm afraid you'll despise the weather, Miss Hawkins. It's perfectly awful. It always is. I tell Mr. Oreill§ I can't and I won't put up with any such a climate. If we were obliged to do it, I wouldn't mind it ; but we are not obliged to, and so I don't see the use of it. Sometimes its ' real pitiful the way the childern pine for Parry — don't look so sad, Bridget, ma chere — poor child, she can't hear Parry mentioned without getting the blues." Mrs. Gashly—''^ Well I should think so, Mrs. Oreille. A body Imes in Paris, but a body only stm/s here. I dote on Paris ; I'd druther scrimp along on ten thousand dollars a year there, than suffer and worry here on a real decent income." Miss GasMy — "Well then I wish you'd take us back, mother ; I'm sure / hate this stoopid country enough, even if it is our dear native land." Miss Emmeline Gashly — " What, and leave poor Johnny Peterson behind ? " [An airy general laugh applauded this sally]. Miss Gashly — "Sister, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself ! " Miss Emmeline — "Oh, you needn't ruffle your feathers so. I was only joking. He don't mean anything by coming tO' the house every evening — only comes to see mother. Of course that's all ! " [General laughter]. Miss G. prettily confused — " Emmeline, how oan you ! "' Mrs. G., — " Let your sister alone, Emmeline. — I never saw such a tease ! " Mrs. Oreille — ^' What lovely corals you have, Miss Hawk- ins! Just look at them, Bridget, dear. I've a great pas- sion for corals — it's a pity they're getting a little common. , I have some elegant ones — not as elegant as yoursj. though \ — but of course I don't wear them now." *^ 20- 806 HOW SOME EESPECTABLE PEOPLE EEAILY LIVE. Laura—" I suppose they are rather common, but still I have a great affection for these, because they were given to me by a dear old friend of our family named Murphy. He was a very charming man, but very eccentric. We always supposed he was an Irishman, but after he got rich he went abroad for a year or two, and when he came back you would have been amused to see how interested he was in a potato. He asked what it was ! Now you know that when Provi- dence shapes a mouth especially for the accommodation of a potato you can detect that fact at a glance when that mouth is in repose — foreign travel can never remove that sign. But he was a very delight- ful gentleman, and his lit- tle foible did not hurt him at all, "We all have our shams — I suppose there is a sham somewhere about every individual, if we could manage to ferret it out. I would so like to go to France. I suppose our society here compares very favorably with French society does it not, Mrs. Oreille ? " Mrs. 0. — " Not by any means. Miss Hawkins \ French society is much more elegant — much more so." Laura — " I am sorry to hear that. I suppose ours has deteriorated of late." Mrs. 0. — " Yery much indeed. There are people in soci- ety here that have really no more money to live on than what some of us pay for servant hire. Still 1 won't say but what some of them are very good people — and respectable, too." Laura — " The old families seem to be holding themselves aloof, from what I hear. I suppose you seldom meet in soci- ety now, the people you used to be familiar with twelve or fifteen years ago ?" AN UNMISTAKABLE POTATO MOUTH SERIOUS SUBJECTS DISCUSSED. 301 Mrs. 0. — " Oh, no— hardly ever." Mr. O'Eiley kept his first rum-mill and protected his cus- tomers from the law in those days, and this turn of the con- versation was rather uncomfortable to madame than other- wise. Hon. Mrs. Riggins—"!?, Fran9ois' health good now, Mrs. Oreille?" Mrs. 0. — (Thcmkful for the intervention) — " ISTot very. A body couldn't expect it. He was always delicate — especially his lun^s— and this odious climate tells on him strong, now, afte/Parryj which is so mild." Mrs.H. — "I should think so. Husband says Percy '11 die if he don't have a change ; and so I'm going to swap round a little and see what can be done. I saw a lady from Florida last week, and she recommended Key West. I told her Percy couldn't abide winds, as he was threatened with a pul- monary affection, and then she said try St. Augustine. It's an awful distance — ten or twelve hundred mile, they say — but' then in a case of this kind a body can't stand back for trouble, you know." Mrs. 0. — " No, of course that's so. If Franyois don't get better soon we've got to look out for some other place, or else Europe. "We've thought some of the Hot Springs, but I don't know. It's a great responsibility and a body wants to go cautious. Is Hildebrand about again, Mrs. Gashly ?" Mrs. O. — " Yes, but that's about all. It was indigestion, you know, and it looks as if it was chronic. And you know I do dread dyspepsia. We've all been worried a good deal about him. The doctor recommended baked apple and spoiled meat, and I think it done him good. It's about the only thing that will stay on his stomach now-a-days. We have Dr. Shovel now. Who's your doctor, Mrs. Higgins ?" Mrs. H. — " Well, we had Dr. Spooner a good while, but he runs so much to emetics, which I think are weakening, that we changed off and took Dr. Leathers. We like him very much. He has a fine European reputation, too. The 308 A DREADFUL ACCIDENT. first thing he suggested for Percy was to have him taken out in the back yard for an airing, every afternoon, with nothing at all on." Mrs. 0. and Mrs. {?.— "What!" Mrs. H. — " As true as I'm sitting here. And it actually helped him for two or three days ; it did indeed. But after that the doctor said it seemed to be too severe and so he has fell back on hot foot-baths at night and cold showers in the morning. But I don't think there can be any good seund help for him in such a climate as this. I believe we are going to lose him if we don't make a change." Mrs. 0. — " I suppose you heard of the fright we had two weeks ago last Saturday \ ISTo ? "Why that is strange — ^but come to remember, you've all been away to Richmond. Fran9ois tumbled from the sky light in the second-story hall clean down to the first floor — " Everybody — " Mercy !" Mrs. 0- — Yes indeed — and broke two of his ribs — " Uveryiody — " "What !" Mrs. 0. — " Just as true as you live. First we thought he must be injured internally. It was fifteen minutes past 8 in the evening. Of course we were all distracted in a moment — everybody was flying everywhere, and nobody doing any- thing worth anything. By and by I flung out next door and dragged in Dr. Sprague, President of the Medical University — no time to go for our own doctor of course — and the min- ute he saw Pran9ois he said, ' Send for your own physician, madam '■ — said it as cross as a bear, too, and turned right on his heel and cleared out without doing a thing !" Everybody — ■" The mean, contemptible brute !" Mrs. O. — " "Well you may say it. I was nearly out of my wits by this time. But we hurried off the servants after our own doctor and telegraphed mother — she was in New York and rushed down on the first train ; and when the doctor got there, lo and behold you he found rran9ois had broke one of his legs, too !" Everybody — " Goodness !" EXHIBITION OF WOMANLY DEVOTION. 309 Mrs. 0. — " Yes. So he set his leg and bandaged it up, and fixed his ribs and gave him a dose of something to quiet down his excitement and put him to sleep — poor thing he was trembling and frightened to death and it was pitiful to see him. We had him in my bed — Mr. Oreill6 slept in the guest room and I laid down beside Fran9ois — but not to sleep — ^bless you no. Bridget and I set up all night, and the doe- tor staid till two in the morning, bless his old heart. — "When mother got there she was so used up with anxiety that she had to go to bed and have the doctor ; but when she found that Fran9ois was not in immediate danger she rallied, and by night she was able to take a watch herself. Well for three days and nights we three never left that bedside only to take an hour's nap at a time. And then the doctor said Franpois was out of danger and if ever there was a thankful set, in this world, it was us." Laura's respect for these women had augmented during this conversation, naturally enough ; affection and devotion are qualities that are able to adorn and render beautiful a character that is otherwise unattractive, and even repulsive. Mrs. Gashly — " I do believe I should a died if I had been in your place, Mrs. Oreille. The time Hildebrand was so low with the pneumonia Emmeline and me were all alone with him most of the time and we never took a minute's sleep for as much as two days and nights. It was at New- port and we wouldn't trust hired nurses. One afternoon he had a fit, and jumped up and run out on the portico of the hotel with nothing in the world on and the wind a blowing like ice and we after him scared to death ; and when the ladies and gentlemen saw that he had a fit, every lady scat- tered for her room and not a gentleman lifted his hand to help, the wretches ! Well after that his life hung by a thread for as much as ten days, and the minute he was out of dan- ger Emmeline and me just went to bed sick and worn out. / never want to pass through such a time again. Poor dear rran9ois — which leg did he break, Mrs. OreiUe ?" >' THE PATIENTS. 2£rs. 0.—" It was his right hand hind leg. Jump down, Franpois dear, and show the ladies what a cruel limp you've got yet." Fran9ois demurred, but being coaxed and delivered gently Ipon the floor, he performed very satisfactorily, with his " right hand hind leg " in the air. All were affected — even Laura— but hers was an affection of the stomach. The country-bred girl had not suspected that the little whin- ing ten-ounce black and tan reptile, clad in a red em- ■^ ,4 Hlllfllllf'W ■*^ f ij.li LLtffiriiiTiijrit. ' broidered pigmy blanket and reposing in Mrs. Oreille's lap all through the visit was the individual whose sufferiugs had been stirring the dormant generosities of her nature. She said : " Poor little creature ! You might have lost him ! " Mrs. 0. — " O pray don't mention it. Miss Hawkins — it gives me such a turn ! " Laura — "And Hildebr^nd and Percy — are they — are they like this one ? " Mrs. G. — " No, Hilly has considerable Skye blood in him, I believe." Mrs. H. — " Percy's the same, only he is two months and ten days older and has his ears cropped. — ^His father, Martin Farquhar Tupper, was sickly, and died young, but he was THE MIDDLE GiiOUND ARISTOCRACY. 311 the sweetest disposition. — His mother had heart disease but was very gentle and resigned, and a wonderful ratter." * So carried away had the visitors become by their interest attaching to this discussion of family matters, that their stay had been prolonged to a very improper and unfashionable length; but they suddenly recollected themselves now and took their departure. Laura's^ scorn was boundless. The more she thought of these people^'ahd their extraordinary talk, the more offen- sive they seemed to her ; and yet she confessed that if one must choose between the two extreme aristocracies it might be best, on the whole, looking at things fi-om a strictly busi- ness point of view, to herd with the Parvenus ; she was in "Washington solely to compass a certain matter and to do it at any cost, and these people might be useful to her, while it was plain that her purposes and her schemes for pushing them M'ould not find favor in the eyes of the Antiques. If it came to choice — and it might come to that, sooner or later — she believed she could come to a decision without much diflQculty or many pangs. But the best aristocracy of the three Washington castes, and really the most powerful, by far, was that of the Middle Ground. It was made up of the families of public men from nearly every state in the Union — men who held posi- tions in both the executive and legislative branches of the government, and whose characters had been for years blem- ishless, both at home and at the capital. \ These gentlemen and their households were unostentatious people ; they were educated and refined ; they troubled themselves but little about the two other orders of nobility, but moved serenely in their wide orbit, confident in their own strength and well aware of the potency of their influence. They had no * As impossible and exasperating as this conversation may sound to a person who is not an idiot, it is scarcely in any respect an exaggeration of one which one of us actually listened to in an American drawing room — otherwise we could not venture to put such a chapter into a book which professes to deal with social possibilities. — The Adihobs. 312 ABOUT LAURA'S UNRULY MEMBER. troublesome appearances to keep up, no rivalries which they cared to distress themselves about, no jealousies to fret over. They could afford to mind their own affairs and leave other combinations to do the same or do otherwise, just as they chose. ^bfiy.-'Were people who were beyond reproach, and that was suiBcient. Senator Dilworthy never came into collision with any of these factions. He labored for them all and with them all. He said that all men were brethren and all were entitled to --the honest unselfish help and countenance of a Christian laborer in the public vineyard. Laura concluded, after reflection, to let circumstances deter- mine the course it might be best for her to pursue as regarded the several aristocracies. Now it might occur to the reader that perhaps Laura had been somewhat rudely suggestive in her remarks to Mrs. Oreille when the subject of corals was under discussion, but it did not occur to Laura herself. She was not a person of exaggerated refinement ; indeed the society and the influences that had formed her character had not been of a nature calculated to make her so; she thought that "give and take was fair play," and that to parry an offensive thrust with a sarcasm was a neat and legitimate thing to do. She some- times talked to people in a way which some ladies would consider actually shocking ; but Laura rather prided herself Iupon some of her exploits of that character. We are sony we cannot make her a faultless heroine ; but we cannot, for the reason that she was human. She considered herself a superior conversationist. Long ago, when the possibility had first been brought before her mind that some day she might move in Washington society, she had recognized the fact that practiced conversational powers would be a necessary weapon in that field ; she had also recognized the fact that since her dealings there must be mainly with men, and men whom she supposed to be excep- tionally cultivated and able, she would need heavier shot in PREPARATIONS EOR WAR. 313 her magazine than mere brilliant " society " nothings ; where- upon shehad at once entered upon a tireless and elaborate course of reading, and had never since ceased to devote every unoccu- pied moment to this sort of preparation. Having now acquired a happy smattering of various information, she used it with good effect — she passed for a singularly well informed woman in Washington. The quality of her literary tastes had necessarily undergone constant improvement under this regimen, and as necessarily, also, the quality of her language had improved, though it cannot be denied that now and then her former condition of life betrayed itself in just percepti- ble inelegancies of expression and lapses of grammar. CHAPTER XXXIV. Eet Jomfru Haar drager etserkere end ti Par Oxen. W HEIST Laura had been in "Washington three months, she was still the same person, in one respect, that she was when she first arrived there — that is to say, she still bore the name of Laura Hawkins. Otherwise she was perceptibly changed. — She had arrived in a state of grievous uncertainty as to what manner of woman she was, physically and intellectually, as compared with eastern women ; she was well satisfied, now, that her beauty was confessed, her mind a grade above the average, and her powers of fascination rather extraordinary. So she was at ease upon those points. "When she arrived, she was posessed of habits of economy and not possessed of money ; now she dressed elaborately, gave but little thought to the cost of things, and was very well fortified financially. — She kept her motlier and "Washington freely supplied with money, and did the same by Col. Sellers — ^who always insisted upon giving his note for loans — with interest ; he was rigid upon that ; she must take interest ; and one of the Coloners greatest satisfactions was to go over his accounts and note what a handsome sum this accruing interest amounted to, and what a comfortable though modest support it would yield Laura in case reverses should overtake her. In truth he could not help feeling that he was an efficient shield for her against poverty ; and so, if her expensive ways ever troubled him for a brief moment, he presently dismissed the thought and said to himself, "Let her go on — even if she loses 314 EUMOES OF LAURA'S VAST WEALTH. 315 everything she is still safe— this interest will always afford her a good easy income." Laura was on excellent terms with a great many members of Congress, and there was an undercurrent of suspicion in some quarters that she was one of that detested class known as " lobbyists ;" but what belle could escape slander in such a city ? Fair-minded people declined to condemn her on mere suspicion, and so the injurious talk made no very damaging headway. She was very gay, now, and very celebrated, and she might well expect to be assailed by many kinds of gossip. She was growing used to celebrity, and could already sit calm and seemingly unconscious, under the fire of fifty lorgnettes in a theatre, or even overhear the low voice " That's she !" as she passed along the street without betraying annoyance. The whole air was full of a vague vast scheme which was to eventuate in filling Laura's pockets with millions of money ; some had one idea of the scheme, and some another, but no.body had any exact knowledge upon the subject. AU that any one felt sure about, was that Laura's landed estates were princely in value and extent, and that the government was anxious to get hold of them for public purposes, and that Laura was willing to make the sale but not at all anxious about the matter and not at all in a hurry. It was whispered that Senator Dilworthy was a stumbling block in the way of an immediate sale, because he was resolved that the govern- ment should not have the lands except with the understand- ing that they should be devoted to the uplifting of the negro race ; Laura did not care what they were devoted to, it was said, (a world of very different gossip to the contrary not' withstanding,) but there were several other heirs and they would be guided entirely by the Senator's wishes; and finally, many people averred that while it would be easy to sell the lands to the government for the benefit of the negro, by resorting to the usual methods of influencing votes. Senator Dilworthy was unwilling to have so noble a charity sullied by any taint of corruption — he was resolved that not a vote should be bought. Nobody could get anything definite from Laura about these matters, and so gossip had 316 LAURA'S REVENGE AND WASHINGTON'S INNOCENCE. to feed itself chiefly upon guesses. But the effect of it all was, that Laura was considered to be very wealthy and likely to be vastly more so in a little while. Consequently she was much courted and as much envied. Her wealth attracted many suitors. Perhaps they came to worship her riches, but they remained to worship her. Some of the noblest men of the time succumbed to her fascinations. She frowned upon no lover when he made his first advances, but by and by when he was hopelessly enthralled, he learned from her own lips that she had formed a resolution never to marry. Then he would go away hating and cursing the whole sex, and she would calmly add his scalp to her string, while she mused upon the bitter day that Col. Selby trampled her love and her pride in the dust. In time it came to be said that her way was paved with broken hearts. Poor Washington gradually woke up to the fact that he too was an intellectual marvel as well as his gifted sister. He could not conceive how it had come about (it did not occur to him that the gossip about his family's great wealth had anything to do with it). He could not account for it by any process of reasoning, and was simply obliged to accept the fact and give up trying to solve the riddle. He found him- self dragged into society and courted, wondered at and envied very much as if he were one of those foreign barbers who flit over here now and then with a self-conferred title of nobility and marry some rich fool's absurd daughter. Some- times at a dinner party or a reception he would find himself the centre of interest, and feel unutterably uncomfortable in the discovery. Being obliged to say something, he would mine his brain and put in a blast and when the smoke and flying debris had cleared away the result would be what seemed to him but a poor little intellectual clod of dirt or two, and then he would be astonished to see everybody as lost in admiration as if he had brought up a ton or two of virgin gold. Every remark he made delighted his hearers and compelled their applause ; he overheard people say he was exceedingly bright — they were _ chiefly mammas and marriageable young ladies. He found that some of his good WASHINGTON FINDS HIMSELF FAMOUS. Sir things were being repeated about the town. "Whenever he heai'd of an instance of this kind, he would keep that partic- ular reniark in mind and analyze it at home in private. At first he could not see that the remark was anything better than a parrot might originate ; but by and by he began to feel that perhaps he underrated his powers ; and after that he used to analyze his good things with a deal of comfort, and find in them a brilliancy which would have been unap- parent to him in earlier days — and then he would make a note of that good thing and say it again the first time he found him- self in a new company. Presently he had saved up quite a repertoire of brilliancies ; and after that he confined himself DELIBERATE PERSECUTION. to repeating these and ceased to originate any more, lesi he might injure his reputation by an unlucky effort. He was constantly having young ladies thrust upon his notice at receptions, or left upon his hands at parties, and in 318 WASHINGTON SEEKS LIGHT. time he began to feel that he was being deliberately persecu- ted in this way ; and after that he could not enjoy society because of his constant dread of these female ambushes and sur- prises. He was distressed to find that nearly every time he showed a young lady a polite attention he was straightway reported to be engaged to her ; and as some of these reports got into the newspapers occasionally, he had to keep writing to Louise that they were lies and she must believe in him and not mind them or allow them to grieve her. Washington was as much in the dark as anybody with regard to the great wealth that was hovering in the air and seemingly on the point of tumbling into the family pocket. Laura would give him no satisfaction. All she would say, was: " "Wait. Be patient. Tou will see." " But will it be soon, Laura ?" " It will not be very long, I think.' " But what makes you think so ?" "I have reasons — and good ones. Just wait, and be patient." " But is it going to be as much as people say it is ?" " What do they say it is ?" " Oh, ever so much. Millions !" " Yes, it will be a great sum." " But Jww great, Laura ? Will it be millions ?" "Yes, you may call it that. Yes, it will be millions. There, now — does that satisfy you ?" "Splendid! I can wait. I can wait patiently — ever so patiently. Once I was near selling the land for twenty thou- sand dollars ; once for thirty thousand dollars ; once after that for seven thousand dollars ; and once for forty thousand dollars — but something always told me not to do it. What a fool I would have been to sell it for such a beggarly trifle ! It is the land that's to bring the money, isn't it Laura ? You can tell me that much, can't you ?" " YeSj I don't mind saying that ' much. It is the land. CASTLES IN THE AIE. 319 But mind — don't ever hint that you got it from me. Don't mention me in the matter at all, Washington." " All right — I won't. Millions ! Isn't it splendid ! I mean to look around for a building lot ; a lot with fine ornamental shrubbery and all that sort of thing. I will do it to-day. And I might as well see an architect, too, and get him to go to work at a plan for a house. I don't intend to spare and expense ; I mean to have the noblest house that money can build." Then after a pause — he did not notice Laura's smiles — " Laura, would you lay the main hall in encaustic tiles, or just in fancy patterns of hard wood ?" Laura laughed a good old-fashioned laugh that had more of her former natural self about it than any sound that had issued from her mouth in many weeks. She said : " You don't change, Washington. You still begin to squander a fortune right and left the instant you hear of it in the distance ; you never wait till the foremost dollar of it arrives within a hundred miles of you," — and she kissed her brother good bye and left him weltering in his dreams, so to speak. He got up and walked the floor feverishly during two hours ; and when he sat down he had married Louise, built a hotise, reared a family, married them ofl", spent upwards of eight hundred thousand dollars on mere luxuries, and died worth twelve millions. CHAPTER XXXV. " Mix-in tzakcaamah, x-in tzakcolobch chirech nn zaki caam, nu zaki colo. • nu cMricu, nu galgab, nu zalmet " Rabinal-Aehi. Chascus hom a sas palmas deves se meteys viradas. LAUEA went down stairs, knocked at the study door, and entered, scarcely waiting for the response. Senator Dilworthy was alone — with an open Bible in his hand, upside doWn. Laura smiled, and said, forgetting her acquired cor- rectness of speech, " It is only me." "Ah, come in, sit down," and the Senator closed the book and laid it down. "I wanted to see you. Time to report progress from the committee of the whole," and the Senator beamed with his own congressional wit. " In the committee of the whole things are working very well. "We have made ever so much progress in a week. I believe that you and I together could run this government beautifully, uncle." The Senator beamed again. He liked to be called " uncle " by this beautiful woman. " Did you see Hopperson last night after the congressional prayer meeting ? " " Yes. He came. He's a kind of — " "Eh? he is one of my friends, Laura. He's a fine man, a 320 ONE OF THE SENATOR'S EEIENDS. 321 very fine man. I don't know any man in congress I'd sooner go to for help in any Christian work. What did he «" say " Oh, he beat around a little. He said he should like to" help the negro, his heart went oiit to the negro, and all that — plenty of them say that — ^but he was a little afraid of the '■ ir != ONLY ME." Tennessee Land bill ; if Senator Dilworthy wasn't in it, he should suspect there was a fraud on the government." " He said that, did he ? " "Yes. And he said he felt he couldn't vote for it. He was shy." " Not shy, child, cautious. He's a very cautious man. I have been with him a great deal on conference committees. He wants reasons, good ones. Didn't you show him he was in error about the bill ? " 21- 322 THE SENATOR'S CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLES. " I did. I went over the whole thing. I had to tell him some of the side arrangements, some of the — " "You didn't mention me ? " " Oh, no. I told him you were daft about the negro and the philanthropy part of it, as you are." " Daft is a little strong, Laura. But you know that I wouldn't touch this bill if it were not for the public good, and for the good of the colored race, much as I am interested in the heirs of this property, and would like to have them succeed." Laiira looked % little incredulous, and the Senator pro- ceeded. " Don't misunderstand me, Laura. I don't deny that it is f(5r the interest of all of us that this bill should go through, and it will. I have no concealments from you. But I have one principle in my public life, which I should like you to keep in mind ; it has always been my guide. I never push a private interest if it is not justified asid ennobled by some larger public good. I doubt if a Christian would be justified in working for his own salvation if it was not to aid in the salvation of his fellow men." The Senator spoke with feeling, and then added, " I hope you showed Hopperson that our motives were pure?" " Yes, and he seemed to have a new light on the measure. I think he will vote for it." " I hope so ; his name will give tone and strength to it. I knew you would only haif e to show him that it was just and pure, in order to secure his cordial support." " I think I convinced him. Yes, 1 am perfectly sure he will vote right now." " That's good, that's good," said the Senator, smiling, and rubbing his hands. . " Is there anything more ? " " You'll find some changes in that I guess," handing the Senator a printed list of names. " Those checked off are all right." " Ah — 'm — 'm," running his eye down the list. " That's THE SENATOR APPRECIATES A JOKE. 323 encouraging. What is the ' C ' before some of the names, andthe'B. B.'?" " Those are my private marks. That « C ' stands for ' con- vinced,' with argument. The ' B. B.' is a general sign for a relative. Tou see it stands before three of the Hon. Com- mittee. I expect to see the chairman of the committee ' to-day, Mr. Buckstone." " So you must, he ought to be seen without any delay. Buckstone is a worldly sort of a fellow, but he has charitable impulses. If we secure him we shall have a favorable report by the committee, and it will be a great thing to be able to state that fact quietly where it will do good." " Oh, I saw Senator Balloon." " He will help us, I suppose ? Balloon is a whole-hearted fellow. I can't help loving that man, for all his drollery and waggishness. He puts on an air of levity sometimes, but there aint a man in the senate knows the scriptures as he does. He did not make any objections ? " " l^ot exactly, he said^ — shall I tell you what he said 2 " asked Laura glancing furtively at him. " Certainly." " He said he had no doubt it was a good thing ; if Senator Dilworthy was in it, it would pay^to look into it." The Senator laughed, but rather feebly, and said, " Balloon is always full of his jokes." "I explained it to him. He said it was all right, he only wanted a word with you," continued Laura. " He is a hand- some old gentleman, and he is gallant for an old man." " My daughter," said the Senator, with a grave look, " I trust there was nothing free in his manner ? " " Free ?" repeated Laura, with indignation in her face. "WithOTe.' " There, there, child. I meant nothing, Balloon talks a little freely sometimes, with men. But he is right at heart. His term expires next year and I fear we shall lose him." "He seemed to be packing the day I was there. Has 324 ONE OF A SENATOR'S PRIVILEGES. rooms were full of dry goods boxes, into wtich his servant was crowdinff all manner of old clothes and stuff. I suppose ALL CONGEESSMEN DO THAT." he will paint ' Pub. Doc^' on them and frank them home. That's good economy, isn't it ? " " Yes, yes, but child, all Congressmen do that. It may not be strictly honest, indeed it is not unless he had some public documents mixed in with the clothes." " It's a funny world. Good-bye, uncle. I'm going to see that chairman." And humming a cheery opera air, she departed to her room to dress for going out. Before she did that, however, she took out her note book and was soon deep in its contents, marking, dashing, erasing, figuring, and talking to herself. " Free ! I wonderwhat Dilworthy does think of me anyway ? One . . . two eight . . . seventeen . . . twenty-one,. . .'m'm . . . it takes a heap for a majority. Wouldn't Dilworthy open his eyes if he knew some of the things Balloon did say to me. There... .Hopperaon's influence ought to count twenty ... . NEWSPAPEE now. 325 the sanctimonious old curmudgeon. Son-in-law'. . . . sinecure in the negro institution That about gauges Mm The three committeemen sons-in-law. Nothing like a son-in-law here in Washington .... or a brother-io-law .... And everybody has 'em Let's see sixty-one with places ; twenty-five . . . persuaded — it is getting on ; we'll have two-thirds of Congress in time Dilworthy must surely know I understand him. Uncle Dilworthy Uncle Balloon ! . . . Tells very amusing stories when ladies are not present 1 should think so 'm . . . 'm . Eighty-five. . . .There. I must find that chairman. Queer .... Buckstone acts. . . . .Seemed to be in love I was sure of it. He promised to come here .... and he hasn't. . . . Strange. Very strange. ... I must chance to meet him to-day." Laura dressed and went out, thinking she was perhaps too early for Mr. Buckstone to come from the house, but as he lodged near the bookstore she would drop in there and keep a look out for him. While Laura is on her errand to find Mr. Buckstone, it may not be out of the way to remark that she knew quite as much of Washington life as Senator Dilworthy gave her credit for, and more than she thought proper to tell him. She was acquainted by this time with a good many of the young fel- lows of Newspaper Kow, and exchanged gossip with them to their mutual advantage. They were always talking in the Row, everlastingly gos- siping, bantering and sarcastically praising things, and going on in a style which was a curious commingling of earnest and persiflage. Col. Sellers liked this talk amazingly, though he was sometimes a little at sea in it — and perhaps tliat didn't lessen the relish of the conversation to the correspondents. It seems that they had got hold of the dry -goods box pack- ing story about Balloon, one day, and were talking it over when the Colonel came in. The Colonel wanted to know all about it, and Hicks told him. And then Hicks went on, with a serious air, " Colonel, if you register a letter, it means that it is of 326 DULLNESS OF ANCIENT STATESMEN. yalue, doesn't it ? And if you pay fifteen cents for registering it, the government will have to take extra care of it and even pay you back its full' value if it is lost. Isn't that so ?" " Yes. I suppose it's so." " Well Senator Balloon put fifteen cents worth of stamps on each of those seven huge boxes of old clothes, and shipped that ton of second-hand rubbish, old boots and pantaloons and what not through the mails as registered matter ! It was an ingenious thing and it had a genuine touch of humor about it, too. I think there is more real talent among our public men of to-day than there was among those of old times — a far more fertile fancy, a much happier ingenuity. Now, Colonel, can you picture Jefferson j or Washington or John Adams franking A TRICK WORTH KNOWING. their wardrobes through the mails and adding the facetious idea of making the government responsible for the cargo for the sum of one dollar and five cents ? Statesmen were dull creatures in those days. I have a much greater admiration for Senator Balloon." "Yes, "Rannnn iff fi. TnaTvofparts,JhergJsno denying it." SHARPNESS OF SENATOB BALLOON. 327 " l_Aiii k so. He is spoken of for the post of Ministe r to flhina.^ nv A nstria.., pt-nA J >|ftpo T yjH ]je appointed. What we want abroad' is good examples of the national character. COh. SKLLKRS ENLlUHl'JSiMi-U THE UOUKMIANS. John Ja y and Ben]'am iri Franklin were well enough in their day, but the 'B ^ioiihas~inaae'Tm7 gre»»-&iB **' ^ ■;?«!»' t* • t f CHAPTER LI. Mpethie ou sagar lou nga thia gawantou kone yoboul goube. Wolof Proverb, " Mitsoda eb volna a' te szolgSd, hogy illyen nagy dolgot tselekednek ?" KirSyok 11. K. 8. 18. DECEMBEK, 18—, found Washington Hawkins and Col. Sellers once more at the capitol of the nation, standing guard over the University bill. The former gentle- man was despondent, the latter hopeful. "Washington's dis- tress of mind was chiefly on Laura's account. The court would soon sit to try her case, he said, and consequently a great deal of ready money would be needed in the engineer- ing of it. The University bill was sure to pass, this time-,, and that would make money plenty, but miglit not the help come too late ? Congress had only just assembled, and delays. were to be feared. "Well," said the Colonel, " I don't know but you are more- or less right, there. ISTow let's figure up a little on the pre- liminaries. I think Congress always tries to do as near right as it can, according to its lights. A man can't ask any fairer than that. The first preliminary it always starts out on, is to clean itself, so to speak. It will arraign two or three dozen of its members, or maybe four or five dozen, for taking, bribes- to vote for this and that and the other bill last winter^"" " It goes up into the dozens, does it ? " " "Well, yes ; in a free {country like ours,, wlkere: any man 30- i 465. 466 HOW CONGRESS CLEANS ITSELF. can run for Congress and anybody can vote for him, you can't expect immortal purity all the time — it ain't in nature. — Sixty or eighty or a hundred and fifty people are bound to get in who are not angels in disguise, as young Hicks the correspondent says ; but still it is a very good average ; very good indeed. As long as it averages as well as that, I think we can feel very well satisfied. Even in these days, when people growl so much and the newspapers are so out of patience, there is still a very respectable minority of honest men in Congress." " Why a respectable minority of honest men can't do any good. Colonel." " Oh, yes it can, too." " Why, how ? " " Oh, in many ways, many ways." " But what are the ways 1 " "Well — I don't know — it is a question, that requires time ; a body can't answer every question right off-hand. But it does do good. I am satisfied of that." " All right, then ; grant that it does good ; go on with the preliminaries." " That is what I am coming to. First, as I said, they will try a lot of members for taking money for votes. That will take four weeks." " Yes, that's like last year ; and it is a sheer waste of the time for which the nation pays those men to worh — that is -w'hat that is. And it pinches when a body's got a bill wait- ing." "A waste of time, to purify the fountain of public law ? Well, I never heard anybody express an idea like that before. But if it were, it would still be the fault of the minority, for the majority don't institute these proceedings. There Ss, where that minority becomes an obstruction— but still one can't say it is on the wrong side.— Well, after they have fin- ished the bribery cases, they will take up cases of members who have bought their seats with money. That will take another four weeks." A GOOD MOEAL EFFECT PRODUCED. 467 " Very good ; go on. You have accounted for two-tWrds of the session." " Next they will try each other for various smaller irregu- larities, like the sale of appointments to West Point cadet- ships, and that sort of thing — mere trifling pocket-money en- terprises that might better be passed over in silence, perhaps, but then one of our Congresses can never rest easy till it has thoroughly purified itself of alj bleniishes — and that is a thing to be applauded." " How long does it take to disinfect itself of these minor impurities ? " " Well, about two weeksj generally." " So Congress always lies helpless in quarantine ten weeks of a session. That's encouraging. Colonel, poor Laura will never get any benefit from our bill. Her trial will be over before Congress has half purified itself. — -And doesn't it occur to you that by the time it has expelled all its impure mera- ,bers there may not be enough members left to do business legally ? " "Why I did not say Congress would expel anybody." " Well wovHt it expel anybody ? " " Not necessarily. Did it last year ? It never does. That would not be regular." " Then why waste all the session in that tomfoolery of try- ing mena^ ■ . _- " It is usual ; it is customary ; the country requires it." " Then tha cou ntry trrf ool - , / t hink." • " Oh, n o. /I'he co untry tMnlcs somebody is going to be ex- ■ pened^;;^__2I ~ "■ ■ — ^ " "V\ ^ell. when nobod y is expe lled, what does the countxy ' thinkihen^" " By'^"- •'/■ -'"^ ^-^ ! COME NOW LETS CHEER BP. And the prospect was so cheerful that he wept. Tfien he blew a trumpet-blast that started the meshes of his handker- chief, and said in almost his breezy old-time way : " Lord bless us, this is all nonsense ! Night doesn't last always ; day has got to break some time or other. Every silver lining has a clotid behind it, as the poet says ; and that THE COLONEL'S LUCK AGAIK. 471 remark has always cheered me, though I never could see any meaning to it. Everybody uses it, though, and everybody gets comfort out of it. I wish they would start something fresh. Oome, now, let's cheer up ; there's been as good fish in the sea as there are now. It shall never be said that Beriah Sellers — . Come in?" It was the telegraph boy. The. Colonel reached for the message and devoured its contents. " I said it ! Never give up the ship ! The trial's post- poned till February, and we'll save the child yet. Bless my life, what lawyers they have in New York ! Give them money to fight with, and the ghost of an excuse, and tliey would manage to postpone anything in this world, unless it might be the millennium or something like that. Now for work again, my boy. The trial will last to the middle of March, sure ; Congress ends the fourth of March. "Within three days of the end of the session they will be done putting through the preliminaries, and then they will be ready for national business. Our bill will go through in forty-eight hours, then, and we'll telegraph a million dollars to the jury — to tlie lawyers, I mean^and the verdict of the jury will b? ' Accidental murder resulting from justifiable insanity ' — or something to that efi'eet, something to that efibct. Every- thing is dead sure, now. Come, what is the matter? What are you wilting down like that, for? You mustn't be a girl, you know." " Oh, Colonel, I am become so used to troubles, so used to failures, disappointments, hard luck of all kinds, that a little good news breaks me right down. Everything has been so hopeless that now I can't stand good news at all. It is too good to be true, anyway. Don't you see how our bad luck has worked on me? My hair is getting gi"ay, and many nights I don't sleep at all. I wish it was all over and we could rest. I wish we could lie down and just forget every- thing, and let it all be just a dream that is done and can't come back to trouble us any more. I am so tired." " Ah, poor child, don't talk like that — cheer up — there's 472 A DOUBTFUL COMPLIMENT. daylight ahead. Don't give up. You'll have Laura again, and Louise, and your mother, and oceans and oceans of money — and then you can go away, ever so far away some- where, if you want to, and forget all about this infernal place. And by George I'll go with you ! I'll go with yoii — now there's my word on it. Cheer up. I'll run out and tell the friends the news." And he wrung Washington's hand and was about to hurry away when his companion, in a burst of grateful admiration said : " I think you are the best soul and the noblest I ever knew. Colonel Sellers ! and if the people only knew you as I do, you would not be tagging around here a nameless man — you would be in Congress." The gladness died out of the Colonel's face, and he laid his hand upon Washington's shoulder and said gravely : " I have always been a friend of your family, Washington, and I think I have always tried to do right as between man and man, according to my lights. Now I don't think there has ever been anything in my conduct that should make you feel justified in saying a thing like that." He turned, then, and walked slowly out, leaving Washing- ton abashed and somewhat bewildered. When Washington had presently got his thoughts into line again, he said to him- self, " Why, honestly, I only meant to compliment him — in- deed I would not have hurt him for the world." CHAPTER LII. Aueune chose au monde et plus noble et plus belle Que la salute terveur d'un veritable zele. Le Tartuffe, a. 1, ac. 6. With faire discourse the evening bo they pas ; For that olde man of pleasing wordes bad store, And well could Ule his tongue, as Bmooth as glas — Faerie Queene, ^11 prit un air b^nin et tendre, D'un Laudate Demn leur prfita le bon Jour, Puis convia le monde an fraternal amour ! Roman du Menard (Proloffue). THE weeks drifted by monotonously enough, now. The "preliminaries" continued to drag along in Congress, and life was a dull suspense to Sellers and "Washington, a weary waiting which might have broken their hearts, maybe, but for the relieving change which they got out of an occa- sional visit to New York to see Laura. Standing guard in Washington or anywhere else is not an exciting business in time of peace, but standing guard was all that the two friends had to do'; all that was needed'of them was that they should be on hand and ready for any emergency that might come up. There Was no work to do ; that was all finished ; this was but the second session of the last winter's Congress, and its action on the bill could have but one result — its passage. The House must do its work over again, of course, but the same membership was there to see that it did it. — The Senate was secure — Senator Dilworthy was able to put all doubts to rest on that head. Indeed it was no secret in "Washington that a two-thirds vote in the Senate was ready and waiting to be 473 4:74 WASHINGTON ADOPTS A HUMBLE DEPORTMENT. cast for the University bill as soon as it should come before that body. "Washington did not take part in the gaieties of " the sea- eon," as he had done the previous winter. He had lost his interest in such things ; he was oppressed with cares, now. Sciiator Dilworthy said to "Washington that an humble deport- rjent, under punishment, was best, and that there was but one way in which the troubled heart might find perfect repose and peace. The suggestion found a response in Washington's breast, and the Senator saw the sign of it in his face. From that moment one could find the youth with the Sen- ator even oftener than with Col. Sellers. When the states- man presided at great temperance meetings, he placed Wash- A SIIININO EXAMPLE. ington in the front rank of impressive dignitaries that gave tone to the occasion and pomp to the platform. His bald headed surroundings made the youth the more conspicuous. A PEACEFUL LION. 475 When the statesman made remarks in these meetings, he not infrequently alluded with effect to the encouraging spectacle of one of the wealthiest and most brilliant young favorites of society forsaking the light vanities of that butterfly existence to nobly and self-sacrificingly devote his talents and his riches to the cause of saving his hapless fellow creatures from shame and misery here and eternal regret hereafter. At the prayer meetings the Senator always brought Washington up the aisle on his arm and seated him prominently ; in his prayers he referred to him in the cant terms which the Sena- tor employed, perhaps unconsciously, and mistook, maybe, for religion, and in other ways brought him into notice. He had him out at gatherings for the benefit of the negro, gatherings for the benefit of the Indian, gatherings for the benefit of the heathen in distant lands. He had him out time and again, before Sunday Schools, as an example for emulation. Upon all these occasions the Senator made casual references to many benevolent enterprises which his ardent young friend was planning against the day when the passage of the Uni- versity bill should make his ample means available for the amelioration of the condition of the unfortunate among his fellow men of all nations and all climes. Thus as the weeks rolled on Washington grew up into an imposing lion once more, but a lion that roamed the peaceful fields of religion and temperance, and revisited the glittering domain of fashion no more. A great moral influence was thus brought to bear in favor of the bill ; the weightiest of friends flocked to its standard ; its most energetic enemies said it was useless to fight longer ; they had tacitly surrendered while as yet the day of battle was not come. CHAPTER LIIT. — He spekes, of all his drifts the aymed end : Thereto bis subtile engins he does heud, His practick Tf itt and his fayre f yled tongue, With thousand other sleightes; for well he kend His credit now in doubtful ballannce hong : For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong. Faerie Queene. Scions divers besoins, il est une science D'^tendre les liens de notre conscience, Et de rectifter le mal de I'action Avec la puret6 de notre intention. Le Tartuffe, a. 4, sc. 6. THE session was drawing toward its close. Senator Dil- worthy thought he would run out west and shake hands with his constituents and let them look at him. The legisla- ture whose duty' it would be to re-elect him to the United States Senate, was already in session. Mr. Dilworthy con- sidered his re-election certain, but he was a careful, pains- taking man, and if, by visiting his State he could find the opportunity to persuade a few more legislators to vote for him, he held the journey to be well worth taking. The Uni- versity bill was safe, now ; he could leave it without fear ; it needed his presence and his watching no longer. But there was a person in his State legislature who did need watching — a person who. Senator Dilworthy said, was a narrow, grum- bling, uncomfortable malcontent — a person who was stolidly opposed to reform, and progress and him, — a person who, he feared, had been bought with money to combat him, and 476 PEEPAliATIONS I'OB A llE-ELECTION. 477 tliroTigli him the commonwealth's welfare and its political purity. " If this person Noble," said Mr. Dilworthy, in a little speech at a dinner party given him by some of his admirers, " merely desired to sacrifice me, I would willingly offer up my political life on the altar of my dear State's weal, I would be glad and grateful to do it ; but when he makes of me but a cloak to hide his deeper designs, when he proposes to strike through me at the heart of my beloved State, all the lion in me is roused — and I say, Here I stand, solitary and alone, but unflinching, unquailing, thrice armed with my sacred trust ; and whoso passes, to do evil to this fair domain that looks to me for protection, must do so over my dead body." He further said that if this Noble were a pure man, and merely misguided, he could bear it, but that he should succeed "In his wicked designs through a base use of money would leave a blot upon his State which would work untold evil to the morals of the people, and that he M'ould not suffer ; the public morals must not be contaminated. He would seek this man Noble ; he would argue, he would persuade, he would appeal to his honor. When he arrived on the ground he found his friends unter- rified ; they were standing firmly by him and were full of courage. Noble was working hard, too, but matters were against him, he was not making much progress. Mr. Dil- worthy took an early opportunity to send for Mr. Noble ; he had a midnight interview with him, and urged him to for- sake his evil ways ; he begged him to come again and again, which he did. He finally sent the man away at 3 o'clock one morning ; and when he was gone, Mr. Dilworthy said to himself, " I feel a good deal relieved, now, a great deal relieved." The Senator now turned his attention to matters touching the souls of his people. He appeared in church ; he took a leading part in prayer meetings ; he met and encouraged the temperance societies; he graced the sewing circles of the 4:78 THE MEANS EMPLOYED BY SENATOR DILWORTHY. ladies with his presence, and even took a needle now and then end made a stitch or two upon a calico shirt for some poor THE SEWING SOCIETT DODGE. Bibleless pagan of the South Seas, and this act enchanted the ladies, who regarded the garments thus honored as in a manner sanctified. The Senator wrought in Bible classes, and nothing could keep him away from the Sunday Schools — neither sickness nor storms nor weariness. He even traveled a tedious thirty miles in a poor little rickety stage- coach to comply with the desire of the miserable hamlet of Cattleville that he would let its Sunday School look ujion him. All the town was assembled at the stage ofSee when he ar- rived, two bonfires were burning, and a battery of anvils was popping exultant broadsides; for a United States Senator was a sort of god in the understanding of these people who never had seen any creature mightier than a county judge. To them a United States Senator was a vast, vague colossusj an awe inspiring unreality. THE SENATOE VISITS A SUNDAY SCHOOL. 479 Next day everybody was at the Tillage church a full half hour before time for Sunday School to open ; ranchmen and farmers had come with their families from five miles around, all eager to get a glimpse of the great man — the man who had been to, Washington ; the man who had seen the President of the United States, and had even talked with him ; the man who had seen the actual "Washington Monument — ^perhaps touched it with his hands. When the Senator arrived the Church was crowded, the windows were full, the aisles were packed, so was the vestibule, and so indeed was the yard in front of the building. As he worked his way through to the pulpit on the arm of the min- ister and followed by the envied officials of the village, every neck was stretched and every eye twisted around interven- ing obstructions to get a glimpse. Elderly people directed each other's attention and said, " There ! that's him, with the grand, noble forehead ! " Boys nudged each other and said, " Hi, Johnny, here he is ! There,' that's him, with the peeled head ! " The Setiator took his seat in the pulpit, with th6 minister on one side of him and the Superintendent of the Sunday School on the other. The town dignitaries sat in an impres- sive row within the altar railings below. The Sunday School children occupied ten of the front benches, dressed in their best and most uncomfortable clothes, and with hair combed and faces too clean to feel natural. So awed were they by the presence of a living United States Senator, that during three minutes not a "spit-ball" was thrown. After that they began to come to themselves by degrees, and presently the spell was wholly gone and they were reciting verses and pulling hair. The usual Sunday School exercises were hurried through, and then the minister got up and bored the house with a speech built on the customary Sunday School plan ; then the Superintendent put in his oar ; then the town dignitaries had their say. They all made complimentary reference to "their 480 HE ADDRESSES THE SCHOLARS. friend the Senator," and told what a great and illustrious man he was and what he had done for his country and for religion and temperance, and exhorted the little boys to be good and diligent and try to become like him some day. The speakers won the deathless hatred of the house by these de- lays, but at last there was an end and hope revived ; inspira- tion was about to find utterance. Senator Dilworthy rose and beamed upon the assemblage for a full minute in silence. Then he smiled with an access of sweetness upon the children and began : " My little friends — ^for I hope that all these bright-faced little people are my friends and will let me be their friend — my little friends, I have traveled much, I have been in many cities and many States, everywhere in our great and noble country, and by the blessing of Providence I have been per- mitted to see many gatherings like this — ^but I am proud, I am truly proud to say that I never have looked upon so much intelligence, so much grace, such sweetness of disposition as I see in the charming young countenances I see before me at this moment. I have been asking myself as I sat here, Where am I ? Am I in some far-off monarchy, looking upon little princes and princesses ? No. Am I in some populous centre of my own country, where the choicest children of the land have been selected and brought together as at a fair for a prize ? No. Am I in some strange foreign clime where the children are marvels that we know not of ? No. Then where am I ? Yes — where am I ? I am in a simple, remote, unpretending settlement of my own dear State, and these are the children of the noble and virtuous men who have made me what I am ! My soul is lost in wonder at the thought ! And I humbly thank Him to whom we are but as worms of the dust, that fio has been pleased to call me to serve such men ! Earth has no higiier, no grander position for me. Let kings and emperors keep their tinsel crowns, I want them not ; my heart is here ! " Again I thought, Is this a theatre ? No. Is it a concert SENATOR DlLLWORTHl ADDI ESSING THE SUNDAY SCHOOL STORY OF A POOR LITTLE EOT. 481 or a gilded opera ? No. Is it some other vain, brilliant, beautiful temple of soul-staining amusement and hilaritj? No. Then what is it ? "What did my consciousness reply ? I ask you, my little f»iends. What did my consciousness reply ? It replied, It is the temple of the Lord ! Ah, think of that, now. I could hardly keep the tears back, I was so grateful. Oh, how beautiful it is to see these ranks of sunny little faces assembled here to learn the way of life ; to learn to be good ; to learn to be useful ; to learn to be pious ; to learn to be great and glorious men and women ; to learn to be props and, pillars of the State and shining lights in the councils and the households of the nation ; to be bearers of the banner and soldiers of the cross in the rude campaigns of life, and ra:.- somed souls in the happy fields of Paradise hereafter. " Children, honor your parents and be grateful to them for providing for you the precious privileges of a Sunday School. " Now my dear little friends, sit up straight and pretty^ thpre, that's it — and give ine your attention and let me tell ^ou about a poor little Sunday School scholar I once knew. — He lived in the far west, and his parents were poor. They could not give him a costly education, but they were good ' and wise and they sent him to the Sunday School. He loved the Sunday School. I hope you love your Sunday School — ah, I see by your faces that you do ! That is right. " Well, this poor little boy was always in his place when the bell rang, and he always knew his lesson ; for his teachers wanted him to learn and he loved his teachers dearly. Al- ways love your teachers, my children, for they love you more than you can know, now. He would not let bad boys per- suade him to go to play on Sunday. There was one little bad boy who was always trying to persuade him, but he never could. " So this poor little boy grew up to be a man, and had to go out in the world, far from home and friends to earn his living. Temptations lay all about him, and sometimes he was about to yield, but he would think of some precious lesson 31- 482 THE LITTLE BOY GROWS UP INTO SENATOR DIL WORTHY. he learned in his Sunday School a long time ago, and that would save him. Bj and by he was elected to the leg- islature. Then he did everything he could for Sunday Schools. He got laws passed for them ; he got Sunday Schools established wherever he could. " And by and by the people made him governor — and he said it was all owing to the Sunday School. " After a while the people elected him a Eepresentative to the Congress of the United States, and he grew very famous.— Now temptations assailed liim on every hand. People tried to get him to drink wine, to dance, to go to the- atres ; they even tried to buy his vote ; but no, the memory of his Sunday School saved him from all harm ; he remem- bered the fate of the bad little boy who used to try to get him to play on Sunday, and who grew up and became a drunkard and was hanged. He remembei-ed that, and was glad he never yielded and played on Sunday. " Well, at last, what do you think happened ? Why the people gave him a towering, illustrious position, a grand, im- posing position. And what do you think it was? What should you say it was, children? It was Senator of the United States ! That poor little boy that loved his Sunday School became that man. That tnan stands iefore you ! All that he is, he owes to the Sunday School. " My precious children, love your parents, love your teach- ers, love your Sunday School, be pious, be obedient, be hon- est, be diligent, and then you will succeed in life and be honored of all men. Above all things, my children, be hon- est. Above all things be pure-minded as the snow. Let us join in prayer." When Senator DUworthy departed from Cattleville, he left three dozen boys behind him airanging a campaign of life whose objective point was the United States Senate. When he arrived at the State capital at midnight Mr. Noble came and held a three-hours' conference with him, and then as he was about leaving said : EVERYTHING SATISFACTORY AND PLEASANT. 483 " I've worked hard, and I've got them at last. Six of them haven't got quite back-bone enough to slew around and come right out for you on the first ballot to-morrow, but they're going to vote against you on the first for the sake of appearances, and then come out for you all in a body on the second — I've fixed all that ! By supper time to-morrow you'll be re-elected. You can go to bed and sleep easy on that." After Mr. Noble was gone, the Senator said : " Well, to bring about a complexion of things like thia was worth coming West for." CHAPTER LIY. Sdnkhya Kdrihd, ilril, Ny byd ynat nep yr dyec ; yr adysco dyn byth ny byd ynat ony byd doethineb yny callou; yr doethet uyth uo dyn ny byd ynat ony byd dysc gyt ar doetbinab. Cyvreithiau Cymru. THE case of the State of New York against Laura Haw- kins was finally set down for trial on the 15th day of February, less than a year after the shooting of George Selby. If the public had almost forgotten the existence of Laura and her crime, they were reminded of all the details of the murder by the newspapers, which for some days had been announcing the approaching trial. But they had not forgotten. The sex, the age, the beauty of the prisoner ; her high social position in Washington, the unparalled calmness with which the crime was committed had all conspired to fix the event in the public mind, although nearly three hundred and sixty- ifive subsequent murders had occurred to vary the monotony <3f metropolitan life. No, the public read from time to time of the lovely prisoner, languishing in the city prison, the tortured victim of the law's delay ; and as the months went by it was natural 484 THE COURT ROOM. 485 that the horror of her crime should become a little indistinct in memory, while the heroine of it should be invested with a sort of sentimental interest. Perhaps her counsel had calculat- ed on this. Perhaps it was by their advice that Laura had in- terested herself in the unfortunate criminals who shared her prison confinement, and had done not a little to relieve, from her own purse, the necessities of some of the poor creatures. That she had done this, the public read in the journals of the day, and the simple announcement cast a softening light upon her character. The court room was crowded at an early hour, before the arrival of judges, lawyers and prisoner. There is no enjoy- ment so keen to certain minds as that of looking upon the slow torture of a human being on trial for life, except it be an execution; there is no display of human ingenuity, wit and power so fascinating as that made by trained lawyers in the trial of an important case, nowhere else is exhibited such subtlety, acumen, address, eloquence. '' All the conditions of intense excitement meet in a murder trial. The awful issue at stake gives significance to the lightest word or look. How the quick eyes of the spectators rove from the stolid jury to the keen lawyers, the impassive judge, the anxious prisoner. Nothing is lost of the sharp wrangle of the counsel on points of law, the measured de- cisions of the bench, the duels between the attorneys and the witnesses. The crowd sways with the rise and fall of the shifting testimony, in sympathetic interest, and hangs upon the dicta of the judge in breathless silence. It speedily takes sides for or against the accused, and recognizes as quickly its fa- vorities among the lawyers. Ifothing delights it more than the sharp retort of a witness and the discomfiture of an ob- noxious attorney. A joke, even if it be a lame one, is no where so keenly relished or quickly applauded as in a murder trial. Within the bar the young lawyers and the privileged hangers-on filled all the chairs except those reserved at the table for those engaged in the case. "Without, the throng 4:86 THE GREAT ME. BEAHAM. occupied all the seats, the window ledges and the standing room. The atmosphere was already something horrible. It was the peculiar odor of a criminal court, as if it were tainted by the presence, in different persons, of all the crimes that men and women can commit. There was a little stir when the Prosecuting Attorney, with two assistants, made his way in, seated himself at the table, and spread his papers before him. There was more stir when the counsel of the defense appeared. They were Mr. Bra- ham, the senior, and Mr. Quiggle and Mr. O'Keefe, the juniors. Everybody in the court room knew Mr. Braham, the great criminal lawyer, and he was not unaware that he was the object of all eyes as he moved to his place, bowing to his friends in the bar. A large but rather spare man, with broad shoulders and a massive head, covered with chestnut curls which fell down upon his coat collar and which he had a habit of shak- ing as a lion is supposed to shake his mane. His face was clean shaven, and he had a wide mouth and rather small dark eyes, set quite too near together. Mr. Braham wore a brown frock coat buttoned across his breast, with a rose-bud in the the upper button-hole, and light pantaloons. A diamond stud was seen to flash from his bosom, and as he seated him- self and drew off his gloves a heavy seal ring was displayed upon his white left hand. Mr. Braham having seated him- self, deliberately surveyed the entire house, made a remark to one of his assistants, and then taking an ivory-handled knife from his pocket began to pare his finger nails, rocking his chair backwards and forwards slowly. A moment later Judge O'Shannnessy entered at the rear door and took his seat in one of the chairs behind the bench ; a gentleman in black broadcloth, with sandy hair, inclined to curl, a round, reddish and rather jovial face, sharp rather than intellectual, and with a self-sufficient air. His career had nothing remarkable in it. He was descended from, a long line of Irish Kings, and he was the first one of them who A MODEL .JUDGE. 487 had ever come into his kingdom — the kingdom of such being the city of New York. He had, in fact, descended so far and so low that he found himself, when a boy, a sort of street Arab in that city ; but he had ambition and native shrewd- ness, and he speedily took to boot-polishing, and news- paper hawking, became the oflace and errand boy of a law firm, picked up knowledge enough to get some employment in police courts, was admitted to the bar, became a rising young politician, went to the legislature, and was finally elected to the bench which he now honored. In this demoeatic country he was obliged to con- ceal his royalty under a plebeian aspect. Judge O'Shaunnessy THE JtTDGE. never had a lucrative practice nor a large salary, but he had prudently laid away money — believing that a dependant judge can never be impartial — and he had lands and houses to the value of three or four hundred thousand dollars. Had he not helped to build and furnish this very Court House ? Did he not know that the very " spittoon " which his judge- ship used cost the city the sum of one thousand dollars ? As soon as the judge was seated, the court was opened, with the " oi yis, oi yis " of the ofiicer in his native language, the case called, and the sheriff was directed to bring in the prisoner. In the midst of a profound hush Laura entered, leaning on the arm of the oflScer, and was conducted to a seat 488 THE PEISONEE AND FEIENDS. bj her counsel. She was followed by her mother and by Washington Hawkins, who were given seats near her. Laura was very pale, but this pallor heightened the lustre of her large eyes and gave a touching sadness to her expres- sive face. She was dressed in simple black, with exquisite 'i 'i\'ti ' LAURA ON TRIAL. taste, and without an ornament. The thin lace vail which partially covered her face did not so much conceal as heighten her beauty. She would not have entered a drawing room with more self-poise, nor a church with more haughty humil- ity. There was in her manner or face neither shame nor boldness, and when she took her seat in full view of haK the spectators, her eyes were downcast. A murmur of admira- tion ran through the room. The newspaper reporters made THE INDICTMENT. 489 their pencils fly. Mr. Braham again swept his eyes over the house as if in approval. "When Laura at length raised her eyes a little, she saw Philip and Harry within the har, but she gave no token of recognition. The clerk then read the indictment, Vhich was in the usual form. It charged Laura Hawkins, in effect, with the pre- meditated murder of George Selby, by shooting him with a pistol, with a revolver, shot-gun, rifle, repeater, breech-loader, cannon, six-shooter, with a gun, or some other weapon ; with killing him with a slung-shot, a bludgeon, carving knife, bowie knife, pen knife, rolling pin, car hook, dagger, hair pin, with a hammer, with a screw-driver, with a nail, and with all other weapons and utensils whatsoever, at the Southern hotel and in all other hotels and places wheresoever, on the thirteenth day of March and all other days of the christian era whensoever. Laura stood while the long indictment was read, and at the end, in response to the inquiry of the judge, she said in a clear, low voice, " Not guilty." She ' sat down and the court pro- ceeded to impannel a jury. The first man called was Michael Lanigan, sa- loon keeper. "Have you formed or expressed any opinion on this case, and do you know any of the parties ?" "'Not any," said Mr. Lanigan. " Have you any conscientious objections to capital punishment ? " "No, sir, not to my knowledge." " Have you read anything about this case ?" " To be sure, I read the papers, y'r Honor." MICHAEL LANIGAN; 490 CANDIDATES POK JUEYMEN. Objected to bj Mr. Braham, for cause, and discharged. Patrick Cougblin. " Wbat is your business ?" " Well — I haven't got any particular business." " Haven't any particu business, eh ? Well, wha your general b u s i n e s What do you do for living ?" "I own some terrie sir." " Own some terriers, e Keep a rat pit ?" " Gentlemen comes the to have a little sport, never fit 'em, sir." " Oh, I see — you i probably the amuseme committee of the city cov of this case ? " PATKICK COOGHLIN. oil. Have you ever heard "Not till this morning, sir." " Can you read ?" " Not fine print, y'r Honor." The man was about to be sworn, when Mr. Eraham ask( " Could your father read ?" " The old gentleman was mighty handy at that, sir." Mr. Braham submitted that the man was disqualifi Judge thought not. Point argued. Challenged peremptori and set aside. Ethan Dobb, cart-driver. " Can you read ? " " Yes, but haven't a habit of it." " Have you heard of this case ? " " I think so — but it might be another. I have no opini about it." Dist. A. " Tha—tha— there ! Hold on a bit ? Did ai body tell you to say you had no opinion about it ? " MORE OF THEM. 491 f'N-n-o, sir." " Take care now, take care. Then what suggested it to you to volunteer that remark ? " " They've always asked that, when I was on juries." " All right, then. Have you any conscientious scruples about capital punishment ? " " Any which ? " " Would you object to finding a person guilty of murder on evidence ? " "I might, sir, if I thought he wan't guilty." The district attorney thought he saw a point. " "Would this feeling rather incline you against a capital conviction ? " The juror said he hadn't any feeling, and didn't know any of the parties. Accepted and sworn. Dennis Laflin, laborer. Have neither formed nor expressed an opinion. ISTever had heard of the case. Believed in hangin' for them that de- served it. Could read if it was necessary. Mr. Braham objected. The man was evidently bloody minded. Challenged peremptorily. Larry O'Toole, contractor. A showily dressed man of the style known as " vulgar genteel," had a sharp eye and a ready tongue. Had read the newspaper reports of the case, but they made no impression on him. Should be .governed by the evidence. Knew no reason why he could not be an im- partial juror. Question by District Attorney. "How is it that the reports made no impression on ETHAN DOBB. you 2" "Never believe anything I see in the newspapers." 492 A GOOD ONE EEPUSED. (Laughter from the crowd, approving smiles from his Honor and Mr. Brahara.) Juror sworn in. Mr. Braham whispered to O'Keefe, " that's the man." Avery Hicks, pea-nut peddler. Did he ever hear of this case? The man shook his head. " Can you read ? " "No." " Any scruples about capital punishment ? " " No." He was about to be sworn, when the district attorney turn- ing to him carelessly, remarked, " Understand the nature of an oath ? " " Outside," said the man, pointing to the door. " I say, do you know what an oath is ? " " Five cents," explained the man. " Do you mean to insult me ? " roared the prosecuting oificer. " Are yoii an idiot ? " " Fresh baked. I'm deefe. I don't hear a word you say." The man was discharged. " He wouldn't have made a bad juror, though," whis- pered Braham. " I saw him looking at the pris- o n e r sy mpathizingly. That's a point you want to watch for." The result of the whole day's work was the selection of only two jurors. These how- ever were satisfactory to Mr. Braham. He had kept off all thpse he did not know. No one knew better than this great criminal lawyer that the battle was fought on the selection of the jury. The subse- quent examination of witnesses, the eloquence expended on THE WORK OF FOUR DAYS. 493 the jury are all for effect outside. At least that is the theory of Mr. Braham. But human nature is a queer thing, he admits ; sometimes jurors are unaccountably swayed, be as careful as you can in choosing them. It was four weary days before this jury was made up, but when it was finally complete, it did great credit to the counsel for the defence. So far as Mr. Braham knew, only two could read, one of whom was the foreman, Mr. Braham's friend, the showy contractor. Low foreheads and heavy faces they all had ; some had a look of animal cunning, while the most were only stupid. The entire pannel formed that boasted heritage commonly described as the " bulwark of our liberties." The District Attorney, Mr. McFlinn, opened the case for the state. He spoke with only the slightest accent, one that had been inherited but not cultivated. He contented him- self with a brief statement of the case. The state would prove that Laura Hawkins, the prisoner at the bar, a iiend in the form of a beautiful woman, shot dead George Selby, a Southern gentleman, at the time and place described. That the murder was in cold blood, deliberate and without provo- cation ; that it had been long premeditated and threatened ; that she had followed the deceased from "Washington to com- mit it. A 11 this would be proved by unimpeachable witnesses. The attorney added that the duty of the jury, however pain- ful it might be, would be plain and simple. They were citizens, husbands, perhaps fathers- They knew how insecure life had become in the metropolis. To-morrow their own w^yes might be widows, their own children orphans, like the bereaved family in yonder hotel, deprived of husband and father by the jealous hand of some murderous female. The attorney sat down, and the clerk called, " Henry Brierly." CHAPTER LV. " Dyden i Midten," sagde Fanden, han sad imeUem to Proeutorer. Eur breutaer brftz eo ! Ha klevet hoc'h euz-hu \i4 vreut ? HENEY BEIEELY took the stand. Keqiiested by the District Attorney to tell the jury all he knew about the killing, he narrated the circumstances substantially as the reader already knows them. He accompanied Miss Hawkins to Ifew York at her re- quest, supposing she was coming in relation to a bill then pending in Congress, to secure the attendance of absent mem- bers. Her note to him was here shown. She appeared to be very much excited at the Washington station. After she had asked the conductor several questions, he heard her say, " He can't escape." Witness asked her " Who "i " and she re- plied " Nobody." Did not see her during the night. They traveled in a sleeping car. In the morning she appeared Hot to have slept, said she had a headache. In crossing the ferry she asked him about the shipping in sight ; he pointed out where the Cunarders lay when in port. They took a cup of coffee that morning at a restaurant. She said she was anxious to reach the Southern Hotel where Mr. Simons, one of the absent members, was staying, before he went out. She was 494 HENRY BEIEELY'S TESTIMONY. 495 entirely self-possessed, and beyond unusual excitement did not act unnaturally. After she had fired twice at Col. Selby, she turned the pistol towards her own breast, and witness snatched it from her. She had been a great deal with Selby in Washington, appeared to be infatuated with him. (Cross-examined by Mr. Braham.) " Mist-er er Brierly ! " (Mr. Braham had in perfection this lawyer's trick of annoying a witness, by drawling out the "Mister," as if un- able to recall the name, until the witness is sufficiently aggra- vated, and then suddenly, with a rising inflection, flinging his name at him with startling unexpectedness.) " Mist-er . . , . er Brierly ! What is your occupation ? " " Civil Engineer, sir." " Ah, civil engineer, (with a glance at the jury). Follow- ing that occupation with Miss Hawkins ? " (Smiles by the jnry). " No, sir," said Harry, reddening. " How long have you known the prisoner ? " " Two years, sir. I made her acquaintance in Hawkeye, Missouri." " 'M . . . m . . ra. Mist-er er Brierly 1 Were you not a lover of Miss Hawkins ? " Objected . to. " I submit, your Honor, that I have the right to establish the relation of this unwilling witness to the prisoner." Admitted. ' " Well, sir," said Harry hesitatingly, " we were friends." " You act like a friend ! " (sarcastically.) The jury were beginning to hate this neatly dressed young sprig. " Mist- er er Brierly ! Didn't Miss Hawkins refuse you ? " Harry blushed and stammered and looked at the judge. " You must answer, sir," said His Honor. " She — she — didn't accept me." " No. I should think not'. Brierly ! do you dare tell the jury that you had not an interest in the removal of your rival, Col. Selby ? " roared Mr. Braham in a voice of thunder. " Nothing like this, sir, nothing like this," protested the ■witness. 496 COL. SELBY'S DEPOSITION. " That's all, sir," said Mr. Braham severely. " One word," said the District Attorney. " Had you the least suspicion of the prisoner's intention, up to the moment of the shooting ? " " Not the least," answered Harry earnestly. " Of course not, of course not," nodded Mr. Braham to the jury. The prosecution then put upon the stand the other wit- nesses of the shooting at the hotel, and the clerk and the attending physicians. The fact of the homicide was clearly established. Nothing new was elicited, except from the clerk, in reply to a question by Mr. Braham, the fact that when the prisoner enquired for Col. Selby she appeared exciter, and there was a wild look in her eyes. The dying deposition of Col. Selby was then produced. It Bet forth Laura's threats, but there was a significant addition to it, which the newspaper report did not have. It seemed that after the deposition was taken as reported, the Colonel was told for the first time by his physicians that his wounds were mortal. He appeared to be in great mental agony and fear, and said he had not finished his deposition. He added, with great difiiculty and long pauses these words. "I — have — not — told — all. I must tell — put — it — down — ^I — wronged — her. Years — ago — I — can't — see — O — God — I — deserved — " That was all. He fainted and did not revive again. The Washington railway conductor testified that the pris- oner had asked him if a gentleman and his family went out on the evening train, describing the persons he had since learned were Col. Selby and family. i Susan Cullum, colored servant at Senator Dilworthy's, M^as sworn. Knew Col. Selby. Had seen him come to the house often, and be alone in the parlor with Miss Hawkins. He came the day but one before he was shot. She let him in. He appeared flustered like. She heard talking in the parlor, 'peared like it was quarrelin.' Was af eared sumfin' was WASHINGTON HAWKINS EXAMINED. 497 wrong. Just put her ear to the keyhole of the hack parlor door. Heard a man's voice, " I can't, I can't. Good God," quite heggin' like. Heard young Miss' voice, " Take your choice, then. If you 'bandon me, you knows what to 'spect." Then he rushes outen the house. I goes in and I says, " Missis did you ring ? " She was a standin', like a tiger, her eyes flashin'. I come right out. This was the substance of Susan's testimony, which was not shaken in the least by a severe cross-examination. In reply to Mr. Braham's question, if the prisoner did not look insane, Susan said, " Lord, no, sir, just mad as a haw- net." Washington Hawkins was sworn. The pistol, identified by the officer as the one used in the homicide, was produced. Washington admitted that it was his. She had asked him for it one morning, saying she thought she had heard burglars the niglifr^efore. Admitted that he never had heard burglars in the house. Had anything unusual happened just before that ? Nothing that he remembered. Did he accompany her to a re- ception at Mrs. Shoonmaker's a day or two before? Yes. What occurred'? Little by little it was dragged out of the witness that Laura had behaved strangely there, appeared to be sick, and he had taken her home. Upon being pushed he admitted that she had afterwards confessed that she saw Selby there. And Washington volunteered the statement that Selby was a black-hearted villain. Tlie District Attorney said, with some annoyance, "There — tliere ! That will do." The defence declined to examine Mr. Hawkins at present. The case for the prosecution was closed. Of the murder there could not be the least doubt, or that the prisoner fol- lowed the deceased to New York with a murderous intent. On the evidence the jury must convict, and might do so with- out leaving their seats. This was the condition of the case two days after the jury had been selected. A week had passed since the trial opened, and a Sunday had intervened. 32- 498 MR. BRAHAM OPENS FOR THE DEFENCE, The public who read the reports of the evidence saw no chance for the prisoner's escape. The crowd of spectators who had watched the trial were moved with the most pro- found sympathy for Laura. Mr. Braham opened the case for the defence. His manner was subdued, and he spoke in so low a voice that it was only by reason of perfect silence in the court room that he could be heard. He spoke very distinctly, however, and if his nationality could be discovered in his speech it was only in a certain richness and breadth of tone. He began by saying that he trembled at the responsibility he had undertaken ; and he should altogether despair, if he did not see before him a jury of twelve men of rare intelli- gence, whose acute minds would unravel all the sophistries of the prosecution, men with a sense of honor, which would re- volt at the remorseless persecution of this hunted woman by the state, men with hearts to feel for the wrongs of which she was the victim. Far be it from him to cast any suspicion upon the motives of the able, eloquent and ingenious lawyers of the state ; they act officially ; tlieir business is to convict. It is our business, gentlemen, to see that justice is done. " It is my duty, gentlemen, to unfold to you one of the most aiFecting dramas in all the history of misfortune. I shall have to show you a life, the sport of fate and circumstances, hurried along through shifting storm and sun, bright with trusting innocence and anon black with heartless villainy, a career which moves on in love and desertion and anguish, always hovered over by the dark spectre of iNSAinrv, — an insanity hereditary and induced by mental torture, — until it ends, if end it must in your verdict, by one of those fearful accidents which are inscrutable to men and of which God alone knows the secret. " Gentlemen, I shall ask you to go with me away from this court room and its minions of the law, away from the scene of this tragedy, to a distant, I wish I could say a happier day. The story I have to tell is of a lovely little girl, with sunny hair and LAURA'S HISTORY RE-TOLD. 499 laughing eyes, traveling with her parents, evidently people of wealth and refinement, upon a Mississippi steamboat. There is an explosion, one of those terrible catastrophes which leave the imprint of an unsettled mind upon the survivors. Hun- dreds of mangled remains are sent into eternity. When the wreck is cleared away this sweet little girl is found among the panic stricken survivors, in the midst of a scene of horror enough to turn the steadiest brain. Her parents have dis- appeared. Search even for their bodies is in vain. The bewildered, stricken child — who can say what changes the fearful event wrought in her tender brain ? — clings to the first person who shows her sympathy. It is Mrs. Hawkins, this good lady who is still her loving friend. Laura is adopted into the Hawkins family. Perhaps she forgets in time that she is not their child. She is an orphan. No, gentlemen, 1 will not deceive you, she is not an orphan. Worse than that. There comes another day of agony. She knows that her father lives. But who is he, where is he ? Alas, I cannot tell you. Through the scenes of this painful history he flits here and there, a lunatic ! If he seeks his daughter, it is the purposeless search of a lunatic, as one who wanders bereft of reason, crying, where is my child ? Laura seeks her father. In vain ! Just as she is about to find him, again and again he disappears, he is gone, he vanishes. "But this is only the prologue, to the tragedy. Bear with with me while I relate it. (Mr. Braham takes out his hand- kerchief, unfolds it slowly, crushes it in his nervous hand, and throws it on the table). Laura grew up in her humble southern home, a beautiful creature, the joy of the house, the pride of the neighborhood, the loveliest flower in all the sunny south. She might yet have been happy; she was happy. But the destroyer came into this paradise. He plucked the sweetest bud that grew there, and having enjoyed its odor, trampled it in the mire beneath his feet. George Selby, the deceased, a handsome, accomplished Confederate Colonel, was this human fiend. He deceived her with, a 500 HER LIFE IN WASHINGTON KEVIEWED. mock marriage ; after some months he brutally abandoned her, and spurned her as if she were a contemptible thing ; all the time he had a wife in New Orleans. Laura was crushed. For weeks, as I shall show you by the testimony of her adopted mother and brother, she hovered over death in delirium. Gentlemen, did she ever emerge from this delirium ? I shall show you that when she recovered her health, her mind was changed, she was not what she had been. You can judge yourselves whether the tottering reason ever recovered its throne. " Years pass. She is in Washington, apparently the happy favorite of a brilliant society. Her fan:ily have become enormously rich by one of those sudden turns in fortune that the inhabitants of America are familiar with — the discovery of immense mineral wealth in some wild lands owned by them. She is engaged in a vast philanthropic scheme for the benefit of the poor, by the use of this wealth. But, alas, even here and now, the same relentless fate pursued her. The villain Selby appears again upon the scene, as if on pur; pose to complete the ruin of her life. He appeared to taunt her with her dishonor, he threatened exposure if she did not become again the mistress of his passion. Gentlemen, do you wonder if this woman, thus pursued, lost her reason, was be- side herself with fear, and that her wrongs preyed upon her mind until she was no longer responsible for her acts? I turn away my head as one who would not willingly look even npon the just vengeance of Heaven. (Mr. Braham paused as if overcome by his emotions. Mrs. Hawkins and "Washing- ton were in tears, as were many of the spectators also. The jury looked scared.) " Gentlemen, in this condition of affairs it needed but a spark — I do not say a suggestion, I do not say a hint — from this butterfly Brierly, this rejected rival, to cause the explosion. I make no charges, but if this woman was in her right mind when she fled from Washington and reached this city in com- pany with Brierly, then I do not know what insanity is." MRS. HAWKINS ON THE STAND. 501 When Mr. Braham sat down, he felt that he had the jury with him. A burst of applause followed, which the officer promptly suppressed. Laura, with tears in her eyes, turned a grateful look upon her counsel. All the women among the spectators saw the tears and wept also. They thought as they also looked at Mr. Braham, how handsome he is ! Mrs. Hawkins took the stand. She was somewhat confused to be the target of so many eyes, but her honest and good face at once told in Laura's favor. "Mrs. Hawkins," said Mr. Braham, "will you be kind enough to state the circumstances of your finding Laura ? " " 1 object," said Mr. McFlinn, rising to his feet. " This has nothing 'whatever to do with the case, your honor. I am surprised at it, even after the extraordinary speech of mj learned friend." " How do you propose to connect it, Mr. Braham ?" asked the judge. " If it please the court," said Mr. Braham, rising impres- sively, "your Honor has permitted the prosecution, and I have submitted without a word, to go into the most extraordinary testimony to establish a motive. Are we to be shut out from showing that the motive attributed to us could not by reason of certain mental conditions exist ? I purpose, may it please your Honor, to show the cause and the origin of an aberration of mind, to follow it up with other like evidence, connecting it with the very moment of the homicide, showing a condition of the intellect of the prisoner that precludes responsibility." " The State must insist upon its objections," said the Dis- trict Attorney. " The purpose evidently is to open the door to a mass of irrelevant testimony, the object of which is to produce an effect upon the jury your Honor well under- stands." " Perhaps," suggested the judge, " the court ought to hear the testimony, and exclude it afterwards, if it is irrelevant." " Will your honor hear argument on that ? " " Certainly." 502 ARGUMENT ON A KULING OF THE COUKT. And argument his honor did hear, or pretend to, for two whole days, from all the counsel in turn, in the course of which the lawyers read contradictory decisions enough to perfectly establish both sides, from volume after volume, whole libraries in fact, until no mortal man could say what the rules were. The question of insanity in all its legal as- pects was of course drawn into the discussion, and its applica- tion affirmed and denied. The case was felt to turn upon the admission or rejection of this evidence. It was a sort of test trial of strength between the lawyers. At the end the judge decided to admit the testimony, as the judge usually does in such case8,after a sufficient waste of time in what are called arguments. Mrs. Hawkins was allowed to go on. CHAPTER LVI. — Voyre mais (demandoit Trinquamelle) mon amy, comment procedez voui en action criminelle, la partie coupable prinse^a^rojite crimine ? — Comme vous aultres Messieurs (respondit Bridoye) — ' ' Hag eunn dr^-benn&g hoc'h euz-hu da lavaroud ^vid h^ wennidigez f ' ' MES. HAWKINS slowly and conscientiously, as if every detail of her family history was important, told the story of the steamboat explosion, of the finding and adoption of Laura. Silas, that is Mr. Hawkins, and she always loved Laura as if she had been their own child. She then narrated the circumstances of Laura's supposed marriage, her abandonment and long illness, in a manner that touched all hearts. Laura had been a different woman since then. Cross-examined. At the time of first finding Laura on the steamboat, did she notice that Laura's mind was at all deranged ? She couldn't say that she did. After the recov- ery of Laura from her long illness, did Mrs. Hawkins thmk there were any signs of insanity about her ? Witness con- fessed that she did not think of it then. Ke-Direct examination. " But she was different after that ?" " O, yes, sir." Washington Hawkins corroborated his mother's testimony as to Laura's connection with Col. Selby. He was at Harding 503 604 COLONEL SELLERS AS A WITNESS. during the time of her living there with him. After Col. Selby's desertion she was almost dead, never appeared to know anything rightly for weeks. He added that he never saw such a scoundrel as Selby. (Checked by District attorney.) Had he noticed any change in Laura after her illness ? Oh, yes. Whenever any allusion was made that might recall Selby to mind, she looked awful — as if she could kill him. " You mean," said Mr. Braham, " that there was an unnatu- ral, insane gleam in her eyes ? " " Yes, certainly," said Washington in confusion. All this was objected to by the district attorney, but it was got before the jury, and Mr. Braham did not care how much it was ruled out after that. Beriah Sellers was the next witness called. The Colonel made his way to the stand with majestic, yet bland deliberar tion. Having taken the oath and kissed the Bible with a smack intended to show his great respect for that book, he bowed to his Honor with dignity, to the jury with familiarity, and then turned to the lawyers and stood in an attitude of superior attention. " Mr. Sellers, I believe ? " began Mr. Braham. " Beriah Sellers, Missouri," was the courteous acknowledge- ment that the lawyer was correct. "Mr. Sellers, you know the parties here, you are a friend of the family?" ''Know them all, from infancy, sir. It was me, sir, that induced Silas Hawkins, Judge Hawkins, to come to Missouri, and make his fortune. It was by my advice and in company with me, sir, that he went into the operation of — " "Yes, yes. Mr. Seller?, did you know a Major Lackland ? " "Knew him well, sir, knew him and honored him, sir. He was one of the most remarkable men of our country, sir. A member of congress. He was often at my mansion sir, for weeks. He used to say to me, ' Col. Sellers, if you would go into politics, if I had you for a colleague, we should show THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH. 505 Calhoun and Webster that the brain of the country didn't lie east of the Alleganies'. Bat I said — " "Yes, yes. I believe Major Lackland is not living, Colonel ? " There was an almost imperceptible sense of pleasure betrayed in the Colonel's face at this prompt acknowledgment of his title. " Bless you, no. ' Died years ago, a miserable death, sir, a ruined man, a poor sot. He was suspected of selling his vote in Congress, and probably he did ; the disgrace killed him, he wa^ an outcast, sir, loathed by himself and by his constitu- ents. And I think, sir — " The Judge. " You will confine yourself. Col. Sellers, to the questions of the counsel." "Of course, your honor. This," continued the Colonel in confidential explanation, " was tweuty j^ears ago. I shouldn't have thought of referring to such a trifling circumstance now. If I remember rightly, sir "• — A bundle of letters was here handed to the witness. " Do you recognize that hand-writing ? " " As if it was my own, sir. It's Major Lackland's. I was knowing to these letters when Judge Hawkins received them. [The Colonel's memory was a little at fault here. Mr. Hawkins had never gone into details with him on this subject.] He used to show them to me, and say, ' Col, Sellers you've a mind to untangle this sort of thing.' Lord, how everything comes back to me. Laura was a little thing then. The Judge and I were just laying our plans to buy the Pilot Knob, and—" " Colonel, one moment. Your Honor, we put these letters in evidence." The letters were a portion of the correspondence of Major Lackland with Silas Hawkins ; parts of them were missing and important letters were referred to that were not here. They related, as the reader knows, to Laura's father. Lack- land had come upon the track of a man who was searching 606 THE COUNSEL IN A WRANGLE. for a lost child in a Mississippi steamboat explosion years before. The man was lame in one leg, and appeared to be flitting from place to place. It seemed that Major Lackland got so close track of him that he was able to describe his per- sonal appearance and learn his name. But the letter contain- ing these particulars was lost. Once he heard of him at a hotel in Washington ; but the man departed, leaving an empty trunk, the day before the major went there. There was something very mysterious in all his movements. Col. Sellers, continuing his testimony, said that he saw this lost letter, but could not now recall the name. Search for the supposed father had been continued by Lackland, Hawk- ins and himself for several years, but Laura was not informed of it till after the death of Hawkins, for fear of raising false hopes in her mind. Here the District Attorney arose and said, " Your Honor, I must positively object to letting the wit- ness wander off into all these irrelevant details." Mr. Braham. "I submit, your Honor, that we cannot be interrupted in this manner. We have suffered the state to have full swing. Now here is a witness, who has known the prisoner from infancy, and is competent to testify upon the one point vital to her safety. Evidently he is a gentleman of character, and his knowledge of the case cannot be shut out without increasing the aspect of persecution which the State's attitude towards the prisoner already has assumed." The wrangle continued, waxing hotter and hotter. The Colonel seeing the attention of the counsel and Court entirely withdrawn from him, thought he perceived here his opportunity. Turning and beaming upon the jury, he began simply to talk, but as the grandeur of his position grew upon him — his talk broadened unconsciously into an oratorial vein. " You see how she was situated, gentlemen ; poor child, it might have broken her heart to let her mind get to running on such a thing as that. You see, from what we could make out her father was lame in the left leg and had a deep scar on THE COLONEL IMPROVES THE OPPORTUNITY. 507 his left forehead. And so ever since the day she found out she had another father, she never could run across a lame stranger without being taken all over with a shiver, and almost fainting where she stood. And the next minute she would go right after that man. Once she stumbled on a stranger with a game leg, and she was the most grateful thing SEARCH FOR A FATHER. in this world — ^bnt it was the wrong leg, and it was days ana days before she could leave her bed. Once she found a man with a scar on his forehead, and she was just going to throw herself into his arms, but he stepped out just then, and there wasn't anything the matter with his legs. Time and time again, gentlemen of the jury, has this poor suffering orphan flung herself on her knees with all her heart's gratitude in her eyes before some scarred and crippled veteran, but always, always to be disappointed, always to be plunged into new despair— if his legs were right his scar was wrong, if his scar was right his legs were wrong. Never could find a man that would fill the bill. Gentlemen of the jury, you have hearts, you have feelings, you have warm human sympathies, you can feel for this poor suflering child. Gentlemen of the jury, 508 THE COURT ASTONISHED. if I had time, if I had the opportunity, if I might be per- mitted to go on and tell you the thousands and thousands and thousands of mutilated strangers this poor girl has started out of cover, and hunted from city to city, from state to state, from continent to continent, till she has run them down and found they wan't the ones, I know your hearts — " By this time the Colonel had become so warmed up, that his voice, had reached a pitch above that of the contending • counsel ; the lawyers suddenly stopped, and they and the ■criiii^ -* jtftT.- TAKINO ADVANTAGE Of A LULL. Judge turned towards the Colonel and remained for several seconds too surprised at this novel exhibition to speak. In this interval of silence, an appreciation of the situation grad- ually stole over the audience, and an explosion of laughter followed, in which even the Court and the bar could hardly keep from joining. Sheriff. " Order in the Court." The Judge. " The witness will confine- his remarks to answers to questions." THE COLONEL INTEKKUPTED. 509 The Colonel turned courteously to the Judge and said, " Certainly, your Honor, certainly. I am not well acquain- ted with the forms of procedure in the courts of New York, but in the West, sir, in the West — " The Judge. " There,there, that will do, that will do.!' " You see,, your Honor, there were no questions asked me, and I thought I would take advantage- of the lull in the pro- ceedings to explain to the jury a very significant train of — " The Judge. " That will do, sir ! Proceed Mr. Braham." " Col. Sellers, have you any reason to suppose that this man is still living ?" " Every reason, sir, every reason." " State why." " I have never heard of his death, sir. It has never come to my knowledge. In fact, sir, as I once said to Governor — " " Will you state to the jury what has been the effect of the knowledge of this wandering and evidently unsettled being, supposed to be her father, upon the mind of Miss Hawkins for so many years ?" Question objected to. Question ruled out. Cross-examined. " Major Sellers^ what is your occupation ?" The Colonel looked about him loftily, as if casting in hia mind what would be the proper occupation of a person of such multifarious interests, and then said with dignity. " A gentleman, sir. My father used to always say, sir "^ " Capt. Sellers, did you ever see this man, this supposed father?" " Wo, sir. But upon one occasion, old Senator Thompson said to me, its my opinion, Colonel Sellers " — " Did you ever see any body who had seen him ?" " No, sir. It was reported around at one time, that " — " That is aU." The defense then spent a day in the examination of medi- cal experts in insanity, who testified, on the evidence heard, that sufficient causes had occurred to produce an insane mind in the prisoner. Numerous cases were cited, to sustain this 510 FOUE DAYS SPENT SUMMING UP. opinion. There was such a thing as momentary insanity, in which the person, otherwise rational to all appearances, was for the time actually bereft of reason, and not responsible for his acts. The causes of this momentary possession could often be found in the person's life. [It afterwards came out that the chief expert for the defense, was paid a thousand dollars for looking into the case.J The prosecution consumed another day in the examination of experts refuting the notion of insanity. These causes might have produced insanity, but there was no evidence that they have produced it in this case, or that the prisoner was not at the time of the commission of tke crime in full pos- session of her ordinary faculties. The trial had now lasted two weeks. It required four days now for the lawyers to " sum up." These arguments of the counsel were very important to their friends, and greatly enhanced their reputation at the bar ; but they have small interest to us. Mr. Braham in his closing speech surpassed himself ; liis effort is still remembered as the greatest in the criminal annals of New York. Mr. Braham re-drew for the jury the picture of Laura's early life ; he dwelt long upon that painful episode of the pretended marriage and the desertion. Col. Selby, he said, belonged, gentlemen, to what is called the " upper classes." It is the privilege of the " upper classes " to prey upon the sons and daughters of the people. The Hawkins family, though allied to the best blood of the South, were at the time in humble circumstances. He commented upon her parentage. Perhaps her agonized father, in his intervals of sanity, was still searching for his lost daughter. Would he one day hear that she had died a felon's death ? Society had pursued her, fate had pursued her, and in a moment of de- lirium she had turned and defied fate and society. He dwelt upon the admission of base wrong in Col. Selby's dying state- ment. He drew a vivid picture of the villain at last over- taken by the vengeance of Heaven. Would the jury say that AFFECTING APPEALS TO THE JURY. 511 this retributive justice, inflicted by an outraged, a deluded woman, rendered irrational by tbe most cruel wrongs, was in the nature of a foul, premeditated murder ? " Gentlemen, it is enough for me to look upon th^ life of this most beautiful and accomplished of her sex, blasted by the heartless villainy of man, without seeing, at the end of it, the horrible spectacle of a gibbet. Gentlemen, we are all human, we have all sinned, we all have need of mercy. But I do not ask mercy of you who are the guardians of society and of the poor waifs, its sometimes wronged victims ; I ask only that justice which you and I shall need in that last dreadful hour, when death will be robbed of half its terrors if we can reflect that we have never wronged a human being. Gentlemen, the life of this lovely and once happy girl, this now stricken woman, is in your hands." The jury were visibly affected. Half the court room was in tears. If a vote of both spectators and jury could have been taken then, the verdict would have been, " let her go, she has suffered enough." But the district attorney had the closing argument. Calmly and without malice or excitement he reviewed the testimony. As the cold facts were unrolled, fear settled upon the listen- ers. There was no escape from the murder or its premedita- tion. Laura's character as a lobbyist in "Washington, which had been made to appear incidentally in the evidence, was also against her. The whole body of the testimony of the defense was shown to be irrelevant, introduced only to excite sympathy, and not giving a color of probability to the absurd supposition of insanity. The attorney then dwelt upon the insecurity of life in the city, and the growing immunity with which women committed murders. Mr. MeElinn made a very able speech, convincing the reason without touching the feelings. The Judge in his charge reviewed the testimony with great show of impartiality. He ended by saying that the verdict must be acquital or murder in the first degree. If you find 512 A STATE OF SUSPENSE. that the prisoner committed a homicide, in possession of her reason and with premeditation, your verdict will be accord- ingly. If you find she was not in her right mind, that she was the victim of insanity, hereditary or momentary, as it has been explained, your verdict will take that into account. As the Judge finished his charge, the spectators anxiously watched the faces of the jury. It was not a remunerative study. In the court room the general feeling was in favor of Laura, but whether this feeling extended to the jury, their stolid faces did not reveal. The public outside hoped for a conviction, as it always does ; it wanted an example ; the newspapers trusted the jury would have the courage to do its duty. When Laura was convicted, then the public would turn around and abuse the governor if he did not pardon her. The jury went out. Mr. Braham preserved his serene confidence, but Laura's friends were dispirited. "Washington and Col. Sellers had been obliged to go to Washington, and they had departed under the unspoken fear that the verdict would be unfavorable, — a disagreement was the best they could hope for, and money was needed. The necessity of the passage of the University bill was now imperative. The Court waited for some time, but the jury gave no signs of coming in. Mr. Braham said it was extraordinary. The Court then took a recess for a couple of hours. Upon again coming in, word was brought that the jury had not yet agreed. But the jury had a question. The point upon which they wanted instruction was this : — They wanted to know if Col. Sellers was related to the Hawkins family. The court then adjourned till morning. Mr. Braham, who was in something of a pet, remarked to Mr. O'Toole that they must have been deceived — that jury- man with the broken nose could read ! CHAPTER LVIl. " Wegotogwen ga-ijlwebadogwen ; gonima tar-matclii-inakamigad." THE momentous day was at hand — a day that promised to make or mar the fortunes of the Hawkins family for all time. Washington Hawkins and Col. Sellers were both up early, for neither of them could sleep. Congress was expir- ing, and was passing bill after bill as if they were gasps and each likely to be its last. The University was on file for its third reading this day, and to-morrow Washing- ton would be a millionaire and Sellers no longer impe- cunious ; but this day, also, or at farthest the next, the jury in Laura's case would come to a decision of some kind or other — they would find her guilty, Washington secretly feared,, and then the care and the trouble would all come back again and there would be wearing months of besieging judges for new trials ; on this day, also, 1;he re-election of Mr. Dilworthy to the Senate would take place. So Washington's mind was^ in a state of turmoil ; there were more interests at stake- thaa it could handle with serenity. He exulted when he thonghjfc of his millions ; he was filled with dread when he thought of Laura. But Sellers was excited and happy. He said: " Everything is going right, everything's going perfectly right. Pretty soon the telegrams will begin to rattle in, and then you'll see, my boy. Let the jury do what they please ; what difference is it going to make ? To-morrow we can send 33- 513 514 RED TAPE AND ROUTINE IN THE LAW. a million to New York and set the lawyers at work on the judges ; bless your heart they will go before judge after judge and exhort and beseech and pray and shed tears. They always do ; and they always win, too. And they will win this time. They will get a writ of habeas corpus, and a stay of proceedings, and a supersedeas, and a new trial and a nolle prosequi, and there you are! That's the routine, and it's no trick at all to a New York lawyer. That's the regular routine — everything's red tape and routine in the law, yoa see ; it's all Greek to you, of course, but to a man who is ac- quainted with those things it's mere— I'll explain it to you sometime. Everything's going to glide right along easy and comfortable now. You'll see, Washington, you'll see how it will be. And then, let me think Dihvorthy will be elected to-day, and by day after to-morrow night he will be in New York ready to put in his shovel — and you haven't lived in Washington all this time not to know that the people who walk right by a Senator whose term is up without hardly TE113I EXPIRED. KE-ELECTED. seeing him will be down at the deepo to say ' Welcome back and God bless you, Senator, I'm glad to see yon, sir ! ' when he fcomes along back re-elected, you know. Well, you see, FROM OLD SELLERS TO GENERAL SELLERS. 515 his influence was naturally running low when he left here, but now he has got a new six-years' start, and his suggestions will simply just weigh a couple of tons a-piece day after to- morrow. Lord bless you he could rattle through that habeas corpus and supersedeas and all those things for Laura all by himself if he wanted to, when he gets back." " I hadn't thought of that," said Washington, brightening; " but it is so. A newly-elected Senator is a power, I know that." " Yes indeed he is. — Why it is just human nature. Look at me. When we first came here, I was Mr. Sellers, and Major Sellers, and Captain Sellers, but nobody could ever get it right, somehow ; but the jninute our bill went through the House, I was Colonel Sellers every time. And nobody eould do enough for me ; and whatever I said was wonderful, Sir, it was always wonderful ; I never seemed to say any flat things at all. It was Colonel won't you come and dine with us ; and Colonel why donH we ever see you at our house ; and the Colonel says this ; and the Colonel s^s that ; and we know such-and-such is so-and-so, because husband heard CoL Sellers say so. Don't you see ? Well, the Senate adjourned and left our bill high and dry, and I'll be hanged, if I warn't Old Sellers from that day till our bill passed the House again last week. Now I'm the Colonel again ; and, if I were to eat all the dinners I am invited to, I reckon I'd wear my teeth down level with \i\j gums in a couple of weeks." " Well I do wonder what you will be to-morrow. Colonel, after the President signs the bill ?" " General, sir ! — General, without a doubt. Yes, sir, to- morrow it will be General, let me congratulate you, sir ; General, you've done a great work, sir ; — ^j'ou've done a great work for the niggro ; Gentlemen, allow me the honor to introduce my friend General Sellers, the humane friend of the niggro. Lord bless me, you'll see the news- papers say. General Sellers and servants arrived in the city last night and is stopping at the Fifth Avenue ; and General 516 THE COLONEL TOUCHED AND PLEASED. Sellers lias accepted a reception and banquet by tlie Cosmo- politan Club ; you'll see tlie General's opinions quoted, too — and what the General has to say about tlje propriety of anew trial and a habeas corpus for the unfortunate Miss Hawkins will not be without weight in influential quarters, I can tell you." "And I want to be the first to shake your faithful old hand and salute you with your new honors, and I want to do it now THE "FAITHrUL OLD HAND. — General !" said Washington, suiting the action to the word, and accompanying it with all the meaning that a cordial grasp and eloqxient eyes could give it. The Colonel was touched ; he was pleased and proud, too ; his face answered for that. Not very long after breakfast the telegrams began to arrive. The first was from Braham, and ran thus : " We feel certain that the verdict will be rendered to-day. Be it good or bad, let it find us ready to make the next move instantly, whatever it may be." TELEGRAMS PEOVE TOO SLOW. 617 « That's the right talk," said Sellers. " That Braham's a wonderful man. He was the only man there that really un- derstood me ; he told me so himself, afterwards." The next telegram was from Mr. Dllworthy : " I have not only brought over the Great Invincible, but through him a dozen more of the opposition. Shall be re-elected to-day by an overwhelm- ing majority." " Good again !" said the Colonel, " That man's talent for organization is something marvelous. He wanted me to go out there and engineer that thing, but I said. No, Dilworthy, I must be on hand here, both on Laura's account and the bill's — ^but you've no trifling genius for organization yourself, said I — and I was right. You go ahead, said I — ^you can fix it — and so he has. But I claim no credit for that — if I stiffened up his back-bone a little, I simply put him in the way to make his fight — didn't make it myself. He has cap- tured Noble — I consider that a splendid piece of diplomacy — Splendid, sir !" By and by came another dispatch from New York: " Jury still out. Laura calm and firm as a statue. The report that the jury have brought her in guilty is false and premature." " Premature ! " gasped Washington, turning white. " Then they all expect that sort of a verdict, when it comes." And so did he ; but he had not had courage enough to put it into words. He had been preparing himself for the worst, but after all his preparation the bare suggestion of the possi- bility of such a verdict struck him cold as death. The friends grew impatient, now ; the telegrams did not come fast enough : even the lightning could not keep up with their anxieties. They walked the floor talking disjointedly and listening for the door-bell. Telegram after telegram came. Still no resiilt. By and by there was one which con- tained a single line : " Court now coming in after brief recess to hear verdict. Jury ready." " Oh, I wish they would finish ! " said "Washington. " This suspense is kilh'ng me by inches ! " Then came another telegram : " Another hitch Bomewhere. Jury want a little more time and further instructions." 518 STARTLING NEWS. " Well, well, well, this is trying," said the Colonel. And after a pause, " No dispatch from Dilworthy for two hours, now. Even a dispatch from him would be better than noth- ing, just to vary this thing." They waited twenty minutes. It seemed twenty hours. " Come ! " said Washington. " I can't wait for the tele- graph boy to come all the way up here. Let's go down to Newspaper Eow — meet him on the way." While they were passing along the Avenue, they saw some X FIRE BKAND. one putting up a great display-sheet on the bulletin board of a newspaper office, and an eager crowd of men was collecting about the place. Washington and the Colonel ran to the spot and read this : " Tremendous Sensation ! Startling news from Saint's Rest ! On first ballot for U. S. Senator, when voting was about to begin, Mr. Noble rose in his place and drew forth a package, walked forward and laid it on the Speaker's desk, say- ing, ' This contains $7,000 in bank bills and was given me by Senator Dilworthy In his bed-chamber at midnight last night to buy my vote for him — I wish the •'TO THE CAPITOL! FLYl" 519 SpeaRer to count the money and retain it to pay the expense of prosecuting this infamous traitor for bribery.' The whole legislature was stricken speechless with dismay and astonishment. Noble further said that there were fifty members present with money in their pockets, placed there by Dilworthy to buy their votes. Amidst unparalleled excitement the ballot was now taken, and J. W. Smith elected U. S. Senator; Dilworthy receiving not one vote! NobU prmnises damaging exposures concerning Dilworthy and certain measures of his nam pending in Congress, " Good heavens and earth !" exclaimed the Colonel. " To the Capitol !" said Washington. " Fly !" And they did fly. Long before they got there the news- boys were running ahead of them with Extras, hot from the press, announcing the astounding news. Arrived in the gallery of the Senate, the friends saw a curious spectacle — every Senator held an Extra in his hand and looked as interested as if it contained news of the destruc- tion of the earth. Not a single member was paying the least attention to the business of the hour. The Secretary, in a loud voice, was just beginning to read the title of a bill : "House-Bill-No.-4:,231,-An-Act-to-Found - and -Incorporate- the Knobs-Industrial-University !-Eead - first-and-second-time — considered-in-committee-of - the -whole - ordered - engrossed- and-passed-to-third-reading-and-final-passage ! " The President — " Third reading of the lill ! " The two friends shook in their shoes. Senators threw down their extras and snatched a word or two with each other in whispers. Then the gavel rapped to command silence while the names were called on the ayes and nays. Wash- ington grew paler and paler, weaker and weaker while the lagging list progressed ; and when it was finished, his head fell helplessly forward on his arms. The fight was fought, the long struggle was over, and he was a pauper. Not a man had voted for the bill ! Col. Sellers was bewildered and well nigh paralyzed, him- self. But no man could long consider his own troubles in the presence of such suffering as Washington's. He got him 520 A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING. lip and supported him — almost carried him indeed — out of the building and into a carriage. All the way home "Wash- ington lay with his face against the Colonel's shoulder and merely groaned and wept. The Colonel tried as well as he could under the dreary circumstances to hearten him a little, but it was of no use. Washington was past all hope of cheer, now. He only said : " Oh, it is all over — it is all over for good, Colonel. We must beg our bread, now. We never can get up again. It was our last chance, and it is gone. They will hang Laura! My God they will hang her! Nothing can save the poor girl now. Oh, I wish with all my soul they would hang me instead ! " Arrived at home, Washington fell into a chair and buried his face in his hands and gave full way to his misery. The Colonel did not know where to turn nor what to do. The servant maid knocked at the door and passed in a telegram, saying it had come while they were gone. The Colonel tore it open and read with the voice of a man- of-war's broadside : " Yeedict of jury, Not Guilty and Laura is fkek ! "' f'OL- SBLLEKS AND WASHINGTON RETURN HOME AFTER TUB VOTE. CHAPTER LYIIT. ^ T ^ f Papel y tinta y poco jasticia. THE court room was packed on the moi-ning on which the verdict of the jury was expected, as it had been' every day of the trial, and by the same spectators, who had followed its progress with such intense interest. There is a delicious moment of excitement which tlie frequenter of trials well knows, and which he would not miss for the world. It is that instant when the foreman of the jury stands up to give the verdict, and before he has opened his fateful lips. The court assembled and waited. It was an obstinate jury. It even had another question — this intelligent jury — to ask the judge this morning. The question was tliis : — "Were the doctors clear that the deceased had no disease which might soon have carried him off, if he had not been shot ?" There was evidently one jury- man who didn't want to waste life, and was willing to strike 521 522 THE VERDICT. a general average, as the jury always does in a civil ease, deciding not according to the evidence but reaching the verdict by some occult mental process. During the delay the spectators exhibited unexampled' patience, finding amusement and relief in the slightest move- ments of the court, the prisoner and the lawyers. Mr. Bra- ham divided with Laura the attention of the house. Bets were made by the sheriffs deputies on the verdict, with large odds in favor of a disagreement. It was afternoon when it was announced that the jury was coming in. The reporters took their places and were all attention ; the judge and lawyers were in their seats ; the crowd swayed and pushed in eager expectancy, as the jury walked in and stood up in silence. Judge. " Gentlemen, have you agreed upon yom* verdict V Foreman. " We have." Judge. " What is it ? " Foreman. "Not Guilty." A shout went up from the entire room and a tumult of cheering which the court in vain attempted to quell. For a few moments all order was lost. The spectators crowded within the bar and surrounded Laura who, calmer than any- one else, was supporting her aged mother, who had almost fainted from excess of joy. And now occurred one of those beautiful incidents which no fiction-writer would dare to imagine, a scene of touching pathos, creditable to our fallen humanity. In the eyes of the women of the audience Mr. Braham was the hero of the occasion ; he had saved the life of the prisoner ; and besides he was such a handsome man. The women could not restrain their long pent-up emotions. They threw themselves upon Mr. Braham in a transport of gratitude ; they kissed him again and again, the young as well as the advanced in years, the married as well as the ardent single women; they improved the opportunity with a touching self-sacrifice ; in the words of a newspaper of the day they " lavished him with kisses." THE KISSING OF BRAHAM. 523 It was something sweet to do ; and it would be sweet for a woman to remember in after years, that she had kissed A COUKT-IN SCEHE. Braham ! Mr. Braham himself received these fond assaults with the gallantry of his nation, enduring the ugly, and heartily paying back beauty in its own coin. This beautiful scene is still known in JSTew York as " the kissing of Braham." When the tumult of congratulation had a little spent itself, and order was restored. Judge O'Shaunnessy said that it now became his duty to provide for the proper custody and treatment of the acquitted. The verdict of the jury having left no doubt that the woman was of an unsound mind, with a kind of insanity dangerous to the safety of the community, she could not be permitted to go at large. " In accordance with the dii-ections of the law in such cases," said the Judge, " and in obedience to the dictates of a wise humanity, I hereby commit Laura Hawkins to the care of the Superintendent of the State Hospital for Insane Criminals, to be held in confinement until the State Commissioners on Insanity shall order her discharge. Mr. Sheriif, you will attend at once to the execution of this decree." 524: LAUEA PRONOUNCED INSANE. Laura was overwhelmed and terror-stricken. She had expected to walk forth in freedom in a few moments. The revulsion was terrible. Her mother appeared like one shaken with an ague fit. Laura insane ! And about to be locked up with madmen ! She had never contemplated this. Mr. Eraham said he should move at once for a writ of habeas corpus. But the judge could not do less than his duty, the law must have its way. As in the' stupor of a sudden calamity, andnot fully comprehending it, Mrs. Hawkins saw Laura led away by the officer. With little space for thought she was rapidly driven to the railway station, and conveyed to the Hospital for Lunatic- Criminals. It was only when she was within this vast and grim abode of madness that she realized- the horror of her sit- uation. It was only when she was received by the kind physi- cian and read pity in his eyes, and saw his look of hopeless incredulity when she attempted to tell him that she was not insane ; it was only when she passed through the ward to which she was consigned and saw the horrible creatures, tlie victims of a double calamity, whose dreadful faces she was hereafter to see daily, and was locked into the small, bare room that was to be her home, that all her fortitude forsook her. She sank upon the bed, as soon as she was left alone — she had been searched by the matron — and tried to think. But her brain was in a whirl. She recalled Braham's speech, she recalled the testimony regarding her lunacy. She won- dered if she were not mad ; she felt that she soon should be among these loathsome creatures. Better almost to have died, than to slowly go mad in this confinement. — We beg the reader's pardon. This is not history, which has just been written. It is really what would have occurred if this were a novel. If this were a work of fiction, Me should not dare to dispose of Laura otherwise. True art and any attention to dramatic proprieties required it. The novelist who would turn loose upon society an insane murderess FREE AGAIN. 525 could not escape condemnation. Besides, the safety of soci- ety, the decencies of criminal procedure, what we call our modern civilization, all would demand that Laura, should be disposed of in the manner we have described. Foreigners, who read this sad story, will be unable to understand any other termination of it. But this is history and not fiction. There is no such law or custom as that to which his Honor is supposed to have referred ; Judge O'Shaunnessy would not probably pay any attention to it if there were. There is no Hospital for Insane Criminals ; there is no State commission of lunacy. What actually occurred when the tumult in the court room had sub- sided the sagacious reader will now learn. Laura left the court room, accompanied by her mother and other friends, amid the congratulations of those assem- POPULAR ENDORSEMENT. bled, and was cheered as she entered a carriage, and drove away. How sweet was the sunlight, how exhilarating the sense of freedom! Were not these following cheers the 526 BAD NEWS; THE BILL LOST. expression of popular approval and affection ? Was she not the heroine of the hour ? It was with a feeling of triumph that Laura reached her hotel, a scornful feeling of victory over society with its own weapons. Mrs. Hawkins shared not at all in this feeling ; she was bro- ken with the disgrace and the long anxiety. " Thank God, Laura," she said, " it is over. Now we will go away from this hateful city. Let us go home at once." " Mother," replied Laura, speaking with some tenderness, " i cannot go with you. There, don't cry, I cannot go back to that life." Mrs. Hawkins was sobbing. This was more cruel than anything else, for she had a dim notion of what it would be to leave Laura to herself. " No, mother, you have been everything to me. Ton know how dearly I love you. But I cannot go back." A boy brought in a telegraphic despatch. Laura took it and read : " The bill is lost. Dilworthy is ruined. (Signed) Washington." For a moment the words swam before her eyes. The next her eyes ■flashed fire as she handed the dispatch to her mother and bitterly said, " The world is against me. Well, let it be, let it. I am against it." " This is a cruel disappointment," said Mrs. Hawkins, to whom one grief more or less did not much matter now, " to you and Washington ; but we must humbly bear it." " Bear it," replied Laura scornfully, " I've all my life borne it, and fate has thwarted me at every step." A servant came to the door to say that there was a gentle- man below who wished to speak with Miss Hawkins. " J. Adolphe Griller" was the name Laura read on the card. "I do not know such a person. He probably comes from Wash- ington. Send him up." Mr. Griller entered. He was a small man, slovenly in dress, his tone confidential, his manner wholly void of ani- MR. GEILLER THE LECTURE AGENT. 527 mation, all bis features below tlie forehead protruding — par- ticularly the apple of his throat — hair without a kink in it, a hand with no grip, a naeek, hang-dog countenance. He was a falsehood done in flesh and blood ; for while every visible sign about him proclaimed him a poor, witless, useless weak- ling, the truth was that he had the brains to plan great enter- prises and the pluck to carry them through. That was his reputation, and it was a deserved one. He softly said : " I called to see you on business, Miss Hawkins. Tou have my card ? " Laura bowed. Mr. Griller continued to purr, as softly as before : " I will proceed to business. I am a business man. I am a lecture-agent. Miss Hawkins, and as soon as I saw that you were acquitted, it occurred to me that an early interview would be mutually beneficial." " I don't understand you, sir," said Laura coldly. " K'o ? You see. Miss Hawkins, this is your opportunity. If you will enter the lecture field under good auspices, you will carry everything before you." " But, sir, I never lectured, I haven't any lecture, I don't know anything about it." " Ah, madam, that makes no difference — no real difference. It is not necessary to be able to lecture in order to go into the lecture field. If one's name is celebrated all over the land, especially, and if she is also beautiful, she is certain to draw large audiences." " But what should I lecture about ? " asked Laura, begin- ning in spite of herself to be a little interested as well as amused. " Oh, why, woman — something about woman, I should say ; the marriage relation, woman's fate, anything of that sort. Call it The Eevelations of a "Woman's Life ; now, there's a good title. I wouldn't want any better title than that. 'I'm prepared to make you an offer. Miss Hawkins, a liberal offer, — twelve thousand dollars for thirty nights." 528 PHILIP AGAIN AT THE MINE. Laura thought. She hesitated. "Why not ? It would give her employment, money. She must do something : " I will think of it, and let you know soon. But still, there is very little likelihood that I — however, we will not discuss it further now." " Remember, that the sooner we get to work the better. Miss Hawkins, public curiosity is so fickle. Good day, madam." The close of the trial released Mr. Harry Brierly and left him free to depart upon his long talked of Pacific-coast mis- sion. He was very mysterious about it, even to Philip. " It's confidential, old boy," he said, " a little scheme we have hatched up. I don't mind telling you that it's a good deal bigger thing than that in Missouri, and a sure thing. I wouldn't take a half a million just for my share. And it will open something for you, Phil. You will hear from me." Philip did hear from Harry a few months afterward. Everything promised splendidly, but there was a little delay. Could Phil let him have a hundred, say for ninety days ? Philip himself hastened to Philadelphia, and, as soon as the spring opened, to the mine at Ilium, and began trans- forming the loan he had received from 'Squire Montague into laborers' wages. He was haunted with many anxieties ; in the first place, Ruth was overtaxing her strength in her hospital labors, and Philip felt as if he must move heaven and earth to save her from such toil and suflering. His increased pe- cuniary obligation oppressed him. It seemed to him also that he had been one cause of the misfortune to the Bolton family, and that he was dragging into loss and ruin every- body who associated with him. . He worked on day after day and week after week, with a feverish anxiety. It would be wicked, thought Philip, and impious, to pray for luck ; he felt that perhaps he ought not to ask a blessing upon the sort of labor that was only a venture ; but yet in that daily petition, which this very faulty and not very con- sistent young Christian gentleman put up, he prayed earnestly SAD PARTING OF LAURA AND HER MOTHER. 529 enough for Eath and for the Boltons and for those whom he loved and who tritsted in him, and that his life might not be a misfortune to them and a failure to himself. Since this young fellow went out into the world from his New England home, he had done some things that he would rather his mother should not know, things maybe that he would shrink from telling Euth. At a certain green age young gentlemen are sometimes afraid of being called milk- sops, and Philip's associates had not always been the most select, such as these historians would have chosen for him, or whom at a later period he would have chosen for himself. It seemed inexplicable, for instance, that his life should have been thrown so much with his college acquaintance, Henry Brierly. Yet, this was true of Philip, that in whatever company he had been he had never been ashamed to stand up for the principles he learned from his mother, and neither raillery nor looks of wonder turned him from that daily habit he- learned at his mother's knees. Even flippant Harry respected this, and perhaps it was one of the reasons why Harry and all who knew Philip trusted him implicitly. And yet it must be confessed that Philip did not convey the impression to the world of a very serious young man, or of a man who might not rather easily fall into temptation. One looking for a real hero would have to go elsewhere. The parting between Laura and her mother was exceed- ingly painful to both. It was as if two friends parted on a wide plain, the one to journey towards the setting and the other towards the rising sun, each comprehending that every step henceforth must separate their lives wider and wider. 34- CHAPTER LIX. £bok imana ebok ofut idibi. Epilc Proverb, '0 KaQfcivog aS' ^g)os XaXa rov ocpiv Xa^mv Km fi^ a/coha qigovsiv. MishittoDnaeog noowaog ayeuuhkone neen, Nashpe nuskesnkqunnonut too, ho, nuunaumunun. WHEN Mr. Noble's bombshell fell in Senator Dilwor- thy's camp, the statesman was disconcerted for a moment. — For a moment ; that was all. The next moment he was calmly up and doing. From the centre of our coun- try to its circumference, nothing was talked of but Mr. Noble's terrible revelation, and the people were furious. Mind, they were not furious because bribery was uncommon in our public life, but merely because here was another case. Perhaps it did not occur to the nation of good and worthy people that while they continued to sit comfortably at home and leave the true source of our political power (the " pri- maries,") in the hands of saloon-keepers, dog-fanciers and hod- carriers, they could go on expecting " another " case of this kind, and even dozens and hundreds of them, and never be 530 WHAT SENATOR DILWORTHY WAS CALLED. 631 disappointed. However, they may have thought that to sit at home and grumble would some day right the evil. Yes, the nation was excited, but Senator Dilworthy was ' calm — what was left of him after the explosion of the shell. Calm, and up and doing. What did he do first ? "What would you do first, after you had tomahawked your mother at the breakfast table for putting too much sugar in your cofi^ee ? You would " ask for a suspension of public opinion." That is what Senator Dilworthy did. It is the custom. He got the usual amount of suspension. Far and wide he was called a thief, a briber, a promoter of steamship subsidies^ railway swindles, robberies of the government in all possible forms and fashions. Newspapers and everybody else called him a pious hypocrite, a sleek, oily fraud, a reptile who ma- nipulated temperance movements, prayer meetings, Sunday schools, public charities, missionary enterprises, all for his private benefit. And as these charges were backed up by what seemed to be good and sufficient evidence, they were believed with national unanimity. Then Mr. Dilworthy made another move. He moved in- stantly to Washington and " demanded an investigation." Even this could not pass without comment. Many papers used language to this effect : " Senator Dilworthy'a remains have demanded an myestigation. This sounds fine and bold and innocent ; but when we reflect that they demand it at the hands of the Senate of the United States, it simply becomes matter for derision. One might as well set the gentlemen detained in the public prisons to trying each other. This investigation is likely to be like all other Senatorial ' investiga- tions ' — amusing but not useful. Query. Why does the Senate still stick to this pompous word, ' Investigation ?' One does not blindfold one's self in order to investigate an object." Mr. Dilworthy appeared in his place in the Senate and offered a resolution appointing a committee to investigate his case. It carried, of course, and the committee was appointed. Straightway the newspapers said : "Under the guise of appointing a committee to investigate the late Mr. Dilwor- thy, the Senate yesterday appointed a committee to investigate his accuser, Mr. Noble, This is the exact spirit and meaning of the resolution, and the committee cannot try anybody but Mr. Noble without overstepping its authority. That Mr. 532 WHO IS INVESTIGATED? Dilworthy had the effrontery to offer such a resolution will surprise no one j and that the Senate could entertain it without blushing and pass it without shame will surprise no one. We are now reminded of a note which we have received from the notorious burglar Murphy, in which he finds fault with a statement of ours to the eifect that he had served one term in the penitentiary and also one in the U. S. Senate. He says, ' The latter statement is untrue and does me great injustice.' After an unconscious sarcasm like that, further comment is unnecessary." And yet the Senate was roused by the Dilworthy trouble. Many speeches were made. One Senator (who was accused in the public prints of selling his chances of re-election to his opponent for $50,000 and had not yet denied the charge) said that, " the presence in the Capital of such a creature as this man Noble, to testify against a brother member of their body, was an insult to the Senate." Another Senator said, " Let the investigation go on ; and ONE OF THE INSULTED MEMBERS. let it make an example of this man Noble ; let it teach him and men like him that they could not attack the reputation of a United States Senator with impunity." Another said he was glad the investigation was to be had, MR. NOBLE BEFORE THE COMMITTEE. 533 " for it was high time that the Senate should crush some cur like this man Noble, and thus show his kind that it was able and resolved to uphold its ancient dignity." A by-stander laughed, at this finely delivered peroration, and said, " "Why, this is the Senator who franked his baggage home through the mails last week — ^registered, at that. However, perhaps he was merely engaged in ' upholding the ancient dignity of the Senate,' then." " No, the modern dignity of it," said another by-stander. " It don't resemble its ancient dignity, but it fits its modern style like a glove." There being no law against making offensive remarks about U. S. Senators, this conversation, and others like it, continued without let or hindrance. But our business is with the in- vestigating committee. Mr. Noble appeared before the Committee of the Senate, and testified to the following eflect : He said that he was a member of the State legislature of the Happy-Land-of -Canaan ; that on the day of ^he as- sembled himself together at the city of Saint's Eest, the capi- tal of the State, along with his brother legislators ; that he was known to be a political enemy of Mr. Dilworthy and bitterly opposed to his re-election ; that Mr. Dilworthy came to Saint's Rest and was reported to be buying pledges of votes with money ; that the said Dilworthy sent for him to come to his room in the hotel at night, and he went ; was intro- duced to Mr. Dilworthy ; called two or three times after ward at Dilworthy's request — usually after midnight; Mr. Dilworthy urged him to vote for him; Noble declined ; Dil- worthy argued ; said he was bound to be elected, and could then ruin him (Noble) if he voted no ; said he had every rail- way and every public office and stronghold of political power in the State under his thumb, and could set up or pull down any man he chose ; gave instances showing where and how he had used this power ; if Noble would vote for him he would make him a Eepresentative in Congress ; Noble still 634 HIS STORY OF THE BEIBING. declined to vote, and said he did not believe Dilworthy was going to be elected ; Dilworthy showed a list of men who would vote for him — a majority of the legislature; gave further proofs of his power by telling Noble everything the opposing party had done or said in secret caucus ; claimed that his spies reported everything to him, and that Here a member of the Committee objected that this evi- dence was irrelevant and also in opposition to the spirit of the Committee's instructions, because if these things reflected upon any one it was upon Mr. Dilworthy. The chairman said, let the person pi'oceed with his statement — the Com- mittee could exclude evidence that did not bear upon the case. Mr. Noble continued. He said that his party would cast him out if he voted for Mr. Dilworthy ; Dilworthy said that that would inare to his benefit because he would then be a recognized friend of his (Dilworthy's) and he could consist- ently exalt him politically and make his fortune ; Noble said he was poor, and it was hard to tempt him so ; Dilworthy said he would fix that ; he said. Tell me what you want, and say you will vote for me ;" Noble could not say ; Dilworthy said " I will give you $5,000—" A Committee man said, impatiently, that this stuff was all outside the ease, and A'aluable time was being wasted ; this was all a plain reflection upon a brother Senator. The Chair- man said it was the quickest way to proceed, and the evi- dence need have no. weight. Mr. Noble continued. He said he told Dilworthy that $5,000 was not much to pay for a man's honor, character and everything that was worth having ; Dilworthy said he was surprised ; he considered $5,000 a fortune for some men ; asked what Noble's figure was ; Noble said he could not think $J 0,000 too little ; Dilworthy said it was a great deal too much; he would not do it for any other man, but he had conceived a liking for Noble, and where he liked a man his heart yearned to help him ; he was aware that Noble was poor, and had a family to support, and that he bore an un- blemished reputation at home ; for such a man and such a PRICE or HONOR AND CHARACTER. 635 man's influence he coiild do much, and feel that to help such a man would be an act that would have its reward ; the strug- gles of the poor always touched him ; he believed that Noble would make a good use of this money and that it would cheer many a sad heart and needy home ; he would give the $10,000 ; all he desired in return was that when the balloting began, Noble should cast his vote for him and should explain to the legislature that upon looking into the charges against Mr. Dilworthy of bribery, corruption, and forwarding stealing measures in Congress he had found them to be base calumnies upon a man whose motives were pure and whose character was stainless ; he then took from his pocket $2,000 in bank TOUCHED BY THE STRUOGLES OF THE POOB. bills and handed them to Noble, and got another package containg $5,000 out of his trunk and gave to him also. He — A Committee man jumped up, and said : " At last, Mr. Chairman, this shameless person has arrived at the point. This is suflBcient and conclusive. By his own confession he has received a bribe, and did it deliberately. 536 SENATOR DILWORTHY ON THE STAND. This is a grave offense, and cannot be passed over in silence, sir. By the terms of our instructions we can now proceed to mete out to him such punishment as is meet for one who has maliciously brought disrespect upon a Senator of the United States. We have no need to hear the rest of his evidence." The Chairman said it would be better and more regular to proceed with the investigation according to the usual forms. A note would be made of Mr. Noble's admission. Mr. Noble continued. He said that it was now far past midnight ; that he took his leave and went straight to certain legislators, told them everything, made them count the money, and also told them of the exposure he would make in joint convention ; he made that exposure, as all the world knew. The rest of the $10,000 was to be paid the day after Dil- worthy was elected. Senator Dilworthy was now asked to take the stand and tell what he knew about the man Noble. The Senator wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, adjusted his white cravat, and said that but for the fact that public morality required an example, for the warning of future Nobles, he would beg that in Christian charity this poor misguided creature might be forgiven and set free. He said that it was but too evi- dent that this person had approached him in the hope of obtaining a bribe ; he had intraded himself time and again, and always with moving stories of his poverty. Mr. I>ilworthy said that his heart had bled for him — insomuch that he had several times been on the point of trying to get some one to do something for him. Some instinct had told him from the beginning that this was a bad man, an evil-minded man, but his inexperience of such had blinded him to his real motives, and hence he had never dreamed that his object was to under- mine the purity of a United States Senator. He regretted that it was plain, now, that such was the man's object and that punishment could not with safety to the Senate's honor be withheld. He grieved to say that one of those mysterious dispensations of an inscrutable Providence which are decreed from time to time by His wisdom and for His righteous, THE WHOLE THING EXPLAINED. 537 purposes, had given this conspirator's tale a color of plausibil- ity, — but this would soon disappear under the clear light of truth which would now be thrown upon the case. It so happened, (said the Senator,) that about the time in question, a poor young friend of mine, living in a distant town of my State, wished to establish a bank ; he asked me to lend him the necessary money ; I said I had no money just then, but would try to borrow it. The day before the election a friend said to me that my election expenses must be very large — especially my hotel bills, — and offered to lend me some money. Eemembering my young friend, I said I would like a few thousands now, and a few more by and by ; whereupon he gave me two packages of bills said to contain $2,000 and $5,000 respectively ; I did not open the packages or count the money ; I did not give any note or receipt for the same ; I made no memorandum of the transaction, and neither did my friend. That night this evil man Noble came troubling me again. I could not rid myself of him, though my time was very precious. He mentioned my young friend and said he was v«ry anxious to have $7,000 now to begin his banking operations with, and could wait a while for the rest. Noble wished to get the money and take it to him. I finally gave him the two packages of bills ; I took no note or receipt from him, and made no memorandum of the matter. I no more look for duplicity and deception in another man than I would look for it in myself. I never thought of this man again until I was overwhelmed the next day by learning what a shameful use he had made of the coniidenee I had reposed in him and the money I had entrusted to his care. This is all, gentlemen. To the absolute truth of every detail of my statement I solemnly swear, and I call Him to witness who is the Truth and the loving Father of all whose lips abhor false speaking ; I pledge my honor as a Senator, that I have spoken but the truth. May God forgive this wicked man — as I do. Mr. Noble — " Senator Dilworthy, your bank account shows that up to that day, and even on that very day, you conducted 538 ME. NOBLE GETS EXCITED. all your financial business through the medium of checks in- stead of bills, and so kept careful record of every moneyed ,','.' "^ V^i' si^*^; MR. NOBLE ASKS QUESTIONS. transaction. Why did you deal in bank bills on this particu- lar occasion ? " The Chairman — " The gentleman will please to'.remember that the Committee is conducting this investigation.'* Mr. Noble — " Then will the Committee ask the question ? " The Chairman — "The Committee will — ^wheu it desires to know." Mr. Noble — " "Which wiU not be during this century per- haps." The Chairman — " Another remark like that, sir, will pro- cure you the attentions of the Sergeant-at-arms." Mr. Noble — " D n the Sergeant-at-arms, and the Com- mittee too ! " Several Committeemen — " Mr. Chairman, this is contempt !" . Mr. Noble—"' Contempt of whom ? " " Of the Committee ! Of the Senate of the United States !" CUSTOMS PEOVED BY THE SENATOK'S STATEMENT. 539 Mr. Noble — " Then I am become the acknowledged repre- sentative of a nation. You know as well as I do that the whole nation hold as much as three-iifths of the United States Senate in entire contempt.— Three-fifths of you are Dil- wortliys." The Sergeant-at-arms very soon put a quietus upon the observations of the representative of the nation, and con- vinced him that he was not in the over-free atmosphere of his Happy-Land-of-Canaan. The statement of Senator Dilworthy naturally carried con- viction to the minds of the committee. — It was close, logical, unanswerable; it bore many internal evidences of its truth. — For instance, it is customary in all countries for business men to loan large sums of money in bank bills instead of checks. It is customary for the lender to make no memorandum of the transaction. It is customary for the borrower to receive the money without making a memorandum of it, or giving a note or a receipt for it — because the borrower is not likely to die or forget about it. It is customary to lend nearly any- body money to start a bank with, especially if you have not the money to lend him and have to borrow it for the purpose. It is customary to carry large sums of money in bank bills about your person or in your trunk. It is customary to hand a large sum in bank bills to a man you have just been intro- duced to (if he asks you to do it,) to be conveyed to a distant town and delivered to another party. It is not customary to make a memorandum of this transaction ; it is not customary for the conveyor to give a note or a receipt for the money ; it is not customary to require that he shall get a note or a re- ceipt from the man he is to convey it to in the distant town. It would be at least singular in you to say to the proposed conveyor, " You might be robbed ; I will deposit the money in bank and send a check for it to my friend through the mail." Yery well. It being plain that Senator Dilworthy's state- ment was rigidly true, and this fact being strengthened by his adding to it the support of " his honor as a Senator," the 640 ACTION ON THE REPORT IN THE SENATE. Committee rendered a verdict of " Not proven that a bribe had been offered and accepted." This in a manner exonerated Noble and let him escape. The Committee made its report to the Senate, and that body proceeded to consider its acceptance. One Senator — indeed, several Senators — objected that the Committee had failed of its duty ; they had proved this man Noble guilty of nothing, they had meted out no punishment to him ; if the report were accepted, he would go forth free and scathless, glorying in his crime, and it would be a tacit admission that any blackguard could insult the Senate of tlie United States and conspire against the sacred reputation of its members with impunity ; the Senate owed it to the upholding of its ancient dignity to make an example of this man jSToble— he should be crushed. An elderly Senator got up and took another view of the case. This was a Senator of the worn-out and obsolete pat- tern ; a man still lingering among the cobwebs of the past, and behind the spirit of the age. He said that there seemed to be a curious misunderstanding of the case. Gentlemen seemed exceedingly anxious to preserve and maintain the honor and dignity of the Senate. Was this to be done by trying an obscure adventurer for attempting to trap a Senator into bribing him ? Or would not the truer way be to find out whether the Senator was capable of ieing entrapped into so shameless an act, and then try him ? Why, of course. Now the whole idea of the Sen- ate seemed to be to shield the Senator and turn inquiry away from him. The true way to uphold the honor of the Senate was to have none but honorable men in its body. If this Senator had yielded to temptation and had offered a bribe, he was a soiled man and ought to be instantly expelled ; there- fore he wanted the Senator tried, and not in the usual nam- by-pamby way, but in good earnest. He wanted to know the truth of this matter. For himself, he believed that the guilt of Senator Dilworthy was established beyond the shadow of a doubt j and he considered that in trifling with VARIOUS OPINIONS. 541 Ms case and shirking it the Senate was doing a shameful and cowardly thing ~a thing which suggested . that in its wilHng- THE WORN OUT STYLE OF SENATOR. ness to sit longer in the company of such a man, it was acknowledging that it was itself of a kind with him and was therefore not dishonored by his presence. He desired that a rigid examination be made into Senator Dilworthy's case, and that it be continued clear into the approaching extra session if need be. There was no dodging this thing with the lame excuse of want of time. In reply, an honorable Senator said that he thought it would be as well to drop the matter and accept the Committee's report. He said with some jocularity that the more one agitated this thing, the worse it was for the agitator. He was not able to deny that he believed Senator Dilworthy to be guilty — but what then ? Was it such an extraordinary case ? For his part, even allowing the Senator to be guilty, he did not think his continued presence during the few re- maining days of the Session would contaminate the Senate to 54:2 SENATOR DILWORTHY FAITHFUL TO THE LAST. a dreadful degree. [This humorous sally was received with smiling admiration — notwithstanding it was not wholly new, having originated with the Massachusetts General in the House a day or two before, upon the occasion of the proposed expulsion of a member for selling his vote for money.] The Senate recognized the fact that it could not be contam- inated by sitting a few days longer with Senator Dilworthy, and so it accepted the committee's report and dropped the unimportant matter. Mr. Dilworthy occupied his seat to the last hour of the session. He said that his people had reposed a trust in him, and it was not for him to desert them. He would remain at his post till he perished, if need be. His voice was lifted up and his vote cast for the last time, in support of an ingenious measure contrived by the General from Massachusetts whereby the President's salary was proposed to be doubled and every Congressman paid several thousand dollars extra for work previously done, under an accepted contract, and already paid for once and receipted for. Senator Dilworthy was offered a grand ovation by his friends at home, who said that their affection for him and their confidence in him were in no wise impaired by the per- secutions that had pursued him, and that he was still good enough for them.* *The $7,000 left by Mr. Noble with bis state legislature was placed in safe keeping to await the claim of the legitimate owner. Senator Dilworthy made one little effort through his prot^g^ the embryo banlier to recover it, but there being no notes of hand or other memoranda to support the claim, it failed. The moral of which is, that when one loans money to start a bank with one ought, to talie the party's written acknowledgment of the fact. CHAPTER LX. limits I ii?ii(Rn lull "Ow holan whath ythew prowte kynthoma ogas marowe" — FOR some days Laura had been a free woman once more. During this time, she had experienced — first, two or three days of triumph, excitement, congratulations, a sort of sunburst of gladness, after a long night of gloom and anxiety ; then two or three days of calming down, by degrees— a reced- ing of tides, a quieting of the storm-wash to a murmurous surf-beat, a diminishing of devastating winds to a refrain that bore the spirit of a truce — days given to solitude, rest, self- communion, and the reasoning of herself into a realization of the fact that she was actually done with bolts and bars, prison horrors and impending death ; then came a day whose hours filed slowly by her, each laden with some remnant, some remaining fragment of the dreadful time so lately ended — a day which, closing at last, left the past a fading shore behindl her and turned her eyes toward the broad sea of the future. So speedily do we put the dead away and come back to our place in the ranks to march in the pilgrimage of life again ! And now the sun rose once more and ushered in the first day of what Laura comprehended and accepted as a new life, 543 544 A LIFE KEVIEW. The past had sunk below the horizon, and existed no more for her ; she was done with it for all time. She was gazing out over the trackless expanses of the future, now, with troubled eyes. Life must be begun again — at eight and twenty years of age. And where to begin ? The page was blank, and waiting for its first record ; so this was indeed a momentous day. Her thoughts drifted back, stage by stage, over her career. As far as the long highway receded over the plain of her life, it was lined with the gilded and pillared splendors of her ambition all crumbled to ruin and ivy-grown ; every mile- stone marked a disaster ; there was no green spot remaining anywhere in memory of a hope that had found its fruition ; the unresponsive earth had uttered no voice of flowers in tes- timony that one who was blest had gone that road. Her life had been a failure. That was plain, she said. No more of that. She would now look the future in the face ;' she would mark her course upon the chart of life, and follow it; follow it without swerving, through rocks and shoals, through storm and calm, to a haven of rest and peace- — or, shipwreck. Let the end be what it might, she would mark her course now — to-day^ — and follow it. On her table lay six or seven notes. They were from lov- ers ; from some of the prominent names in the land ; men whose devotion had survived even the grisly revealments of her character which the courts had uncurtained ; men who knew her now, just as she was, and yet pleaded as for their lives for the dear privilege of calling the murderess wife. As she read these passionate, these worshiping, these sup- plicating missives, the woman in her nature confessed itself; a strong yearning came upon her to lay her head upon a loyal breast and find rest from the conflict of life, solace for her griefs, the healing of love for her bruised heart. With her forehead resting upon her hand, she sat thinking, thinking, while the unheeded moments winged their flight. It was one of those mornings in early spring when nature seems just stirring to a half consciousness out of a long, THINKING, THINKING, THINKING. 545 exhausting lethargy ; when the first faint balmy airs go wan- dering about, whispering the secret of the coming change ; when the abused brown grass, newly relieved of snow, seems considering whether it can be worth the trouble and worry of contriving its green raiment again only to fight the inevi- table fight with the implacable winter and be vanquished and buried once more ; when tlie sun shines out and a few birds venture forth ?ind lift up a forgotten song; when a strange stillness and suspense pervades the waiting air. It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why ; when tlie past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death. It is a time when one is filled with vague longings ; when one dreams of flight to peaceful islands in the remote solitudes of the sea, or folds his hands and saj-s, What is the use of struggling, and toiling and worrying any more ? let us give it all np. Ir I "*V# ' 4^4 -s&fe. It THE PAST, PRESEKT AND FUTURE. It was into such a mood as this that Laura had drifted from the musings which the letters of her lovers had called 35- 546 LAURA DECIDES, AND CUTS OFF ALL KETREAT. up. Now she lifted her head and noted witli surprise how the day had wasted. She thrust the letters aside, rose np and went and stood at the window. But she was soon think- ing again, and was only gazing into vacaTicy. By and by she turned ; her countenance had cleared ; the dreamy look was gone out of her face, all indecision had van- ished ; the poise of her head and the firm set of her lips told that her resolution was formed. She moved toward the table with all the old dignity in her carriage, and all the old pride in her mien. She took up each letter in its turn, touched a match to it and watched it slowly consume to ashes. Then she said : ■ " I have landed upon a foreign shore, and burned my ships behind me. These letters were the last thing that held me in sympathy with any remnant or belonging of the old life. THB: last LliNK BROKEK. Henceforth that life and all that appertains to it are as dead to me and as far removed from me as if I were become a den- izen of another world." HEll PATH MARKED OUT. 547 She said tliat love was not for lier — tlie time that it could have satisfied her heart was gone by and could not return ; the opportunity was lost, nothing could restore it. She said there coiild be no love without respect, and she would only despise a man who could content himself with a thing like her. Love, she said, was a womau's first necessity : love being forfeited, there was but one thing left that could give a pass- ing zest to a wasted life, and that was fame, admiration, the applause of the multitude. And so her resolution was taken. She would turn to that final resort of the disappoiuted of her sex, the lecture platform. She would array herself in fine attire, she would adorn her- self with jewels, and stand in her isolated magnificence before massed audiences and enchant them with her eloquence and amaze them with her unapproachable beauty. She would move from city to city like a queen of romance, leav- ing marveling multitudes behind her and impatient multi- tudes awaiting her coming. Her life, during one hour of each day, upon the platform, would be a rapturous intoxica- tion — and when the curtain fell^ and the lights were out, and the people gone, to nestle in their homes and forget her, she would find in sleep oblivion of her homelessness, if she could, if not she would brave out the night in solitude and wait for the next day's hour of ecstasy. So, to take up life and begin again was no great evil. She saw her way. She would be brave and strong ; she would make the best of what was left for her among the possibili- ties. She sent for the lecture agent, and matters were soon arranged. Straightway all the papers were filled with her name, and all the dead walls flamed with it. The papers called down imprecations npon her head; they reviled her without stint ; thev wondered if all sense of decency was dead in this shame- less" murderess, this brazen lobbyist, this heartless seducer of the affections of weak and misguided men ; they implored the people, for the sake of their pure wives, their sinless 648 A TRIAL FOR FAME. daughters, for the sake of decency, for the sake of public morals, to give this wretched creature such a rebuke as should be an all-snffieient evidence to her and to such as her, that there was a liuiit where the ilauntingof their foul acts and opin- ions before the world must stop ; certain of them, with a higher art, and to her a finer cruelty, a sharper torture, uttered no abuse, but always spoke of lier in terms of mock- ing eulogy and ironical admiration. Everybody talked about the new wonder, canvassed the theme of her proposed discourse, and marveled how she would handle it. Laura's few friends wrote to her or came and tallced with her, and pleaded with her to retire while it was yet time, and not attempt to face the gathering stonn. But it was fruitless. She Avas stung to the quick by the comments of the news- papers ; her spirit was roused, her ambition was towering, now. She was more determined than ever. She would show these people what a hunted and persecuted woman could do. The eventful night came. Laura arrived before the great lecture hall in a close carriage within five minutes of the time set for the lecture to begin. When she stepped out of the vehicle her heart beat fast and her eyes flashed with exultation : the whole street was packed with people, and she could hardly force her way to the hall ! She reached the ante-room, threw oflT her wraps and placed herself before the dressing-glass. She turned herself this way and that— every- thing was satisfactory, her attire was perfect. She smoothed her hair, re-aiTanged a jewel here and there, and all the while her heart sang within her, and her face was radiant. She had not been so happy for ages and ages, it seemed to her. Oh, no. slie had never been so overwhehningly grateful and happy in her whole life before. The lecture agent appeared at the door. ' She waved him away and said : "Do not disturb me. 1 want no introduction. And do not fear for me ; the moment the hands point to eight I wiU step upon the platform." He disappeared. She held her watch before her. She was so impatient that the secondhand seemed whole tedious A BITTER FAILURE. '54:9 minutes dragging its way around the circle. At last the su- preme moment came, and with head erect and the bearing of an empress slie swept through the door and stood upon tiie stage. Her eyes fell upon — Only a vast, brilliant emptiness — there were not forty people in the house ! There wei'e only a handful of coarse men and ten or twelve still coarser women, lolling iJ^on the benches and scattered about singly and in couples. Her pulses stood still, her limbs quaked, the gladness went out of her face. There was a moment of silence, and then a brutal laugh and an explosion of cat-calls and hisses saluted her from the audience. The clamor grew stronger and louder, and insulting speeches were shouted at her. A half- intoxicated man rose up and threw something, which missed her but bespattered a chair at her side, and this evoked an THE TERRIBLE ORDEAL. outburst of laughter and boisterous admiration. Slie was bewildered, her strength was forsaking her. She r^teled away from .the platform, reached the ante-room, and dropped help- 650 UTTERLY OVEEWHELMED. less upon a sofa. The lecture agent ran in, with a hnrried question upon his lips ; but she put fortli her liands, and with the tears raining from her eyes, said : " Oh, do not speak ! Take ine away — please take me away, out of this dreadful place ! Oh, this is like all my life — • failure, disappointment, misery — always misery, always fail- ure. "What have 1 done, to be so pursued ! Take me away, I beg of yon, I implore you ! " Upon the paven:>ont she was hustled by the mob, the surg- ing masses roared her name and accompanied it with every species of insulting epithet ; they thronged after the carriage, hooting, jeering, cursing, and even assailing the vehicle with missiles. A stone crushed through a blind, wounding Laura's forehead, and so stunning her that she hardly knew what further transpired during her flight. It was long before her faculties were wholly restored, and then she found hei-self lying on the floor by a sofa in her own sitting-room, anJ alone. So she supposed she must have sat down upon the sofa and afterward fallen. She raised her- self up, witli difliculty, for the air was chilly and her limbs were stiif. She turned up the gas and sought the glass. She hai-dly know herself, so worn and old she looked, and so marred with blood were her features. The night was far spent, and a dead stillness reigned. She sat down by her table, leaned her elbows upon it and put her face in her hands. Her thoughts wandered back over her old life again and her tears flowed unrestrained. — Her pride was humbled, her spirit was broken. Her memory found but one resting place ; it lingered about her young girlhood with a caressing regret ; it dwelt upon it as the one brief interval in her life that boi-e no curse. Slie saw herself again in the budding grace of her twelve years, decked in her dainty pride of ribbons, consorting with the bees and the butterflies, believing in fairies, Iiolding confidential converse with the flowere, busy- ing hei-self all day long with airy trifles that were as weighty ItCTIiUsil'liUTlO.N'. REPENTANCE AND DEATH. 551 to her as the affairs that tax the brains of diplomats and emperors. She' was without sin, then, and unacquainted with grief ; the world was full of sunshine and her heart was full of music. From that — to this ! "If I could only die!" she said. "If I could only go back, and be as I was then, fur one hour — and hold my father's hand in mine again, and see all the household about me, as in that old innocent time — and then die ! My God, I am humbled, my pride is all gone, my stubborn heart repents — have pity ! " When the spring morning dawned, the form still sat there, the elbows resting upon the table and the face upon the hands. All day long the figure sat there, the sunshine enriching its costly raiment and flashing from its jewels; twilight came, and presently the stars, but still the figure remained ; the moon found it there still, and framed the picture with the shadow of the window sash, and flooded it with mellow light ; by and by the darkness swallowed it up, and later the gray dawn revealed it again ; the new day grew toward its prime, and still the forlorn presence was undis- turbed. But now the keepers of the house had Iiecome uneasy ; their periodical knockings still finding no response, they burst open the door. The jury of inquest found that death had resulted from heart disease, and was instant and painless. That was all. Merely heart disease. CHAPTER LXI. Han ttger ikke ilde som veed at vende. Wanna unyanpi kta. Niye de kta he ? lapi Oaye, vol. i, no. 1. CLAY HAWKINS, j'ears gone by, had yielded, after many a struggle, to the migratory and speculative in- stinct of our age and our people, and had ^vandered farther and further westward upon trading ventures. Settling final- ly in Melbourne, Australia, he ceased to roaju, became a steady-going substantial merchant, and prospered greatly. His life lay beyond the theatre of this tale. His remittances had supported the Hawkin-; family, entire- ly, from the time of his father's death nntil latterly when Laura by her efforts in Washington had been able to assist in this work. Claj' was away on along absence in some of the east- ward islands when Laura's troubles began, trying (and almost in vain,) to arrange certain interests which had become dis- ordered through a dishonest agent, and consequently ho knew nothing of the murder till he returned and read his letters and papers. His natural impulse was to hurry to. the States and save his sister if possible, for he loved her with a deep and abiding affection. — His business was so crippled now, and so deranged, that to leave it would be ruin ; therefore he sold out at a sacrifice that left him considerably reduced in worldly possessions, and began his voyage to San Francisco. Arrived 552 APPEARANCE OF WASHINGTON HAWKINS. 553 there, lie perceived by the newspapers that the trial was near its close. At Salt Lake later telegrams told him of the ac- quittal, and his gratitude was boundless — so boundless, in- deed, that sleep was driven from his eyes by the pleasurable excitement almost as effectually as preceding weeks of anxiety had done it. He shaped his course straight for Hawkeye, now, aiid his meeting with his mother and the rest of the household was joyful — albeit he had been away so long that he seemed almost a stranger in his own home. But the greetings and congratulations were hardly finished when all the journals in the land clamored the news of Laura's miserable death. Mrs. Hawkins was prostrated by this last blow, and it was well that Clay was at her side to stay her with comforting words and take upon himself the ordering of the household with its burden of labors and cares. Washington Hawkins had scarcely more tlian entered upon that decade which carries one to the full blossom of manhood which we term the beginning of middle ago, and yet a brief sojourn at the capital of the nation had made him old. His hair was already turning gray when the late session of Con- gress began its sittings ; it grew grayer still, and rapidly, after the memorable day that saw Laura proclaimed a murderess ; it waxed grayer and still grayer during tlie lagging suspense that succeeded it and after the crash which ruined his last liope — the failure of his bill in the Senate and the destruction of its champion, Dilworthy. A few days later, when he stood uncovered wliile the last prayer was pronounced over Laura's o-rave, his hair was whiter and his face hardly less old than the venerable minister's whose words Were sounding in his ears. A week after this, he was sitting in a double-bedded room in a cheap boarding house in Washington, with Col. Sellers. ■The two had been living together lately, and this mutual cavern of theirs the Colonel sometimes referred to as their " premises " and sometimes as tlieir "apartments" — more particularly when conversing with persons outside. A can- 554 EEADY FOR A START. vas-covered modern trunk, marked "G. W. H." stood on end by the door, strapped and ready for a journey ; on it lay a small ino-.ooco satchel, also marked " G. W. H." There was r ■ , _-,,_._ 'III. ' \' i' :rV\\ . GOOD BYE TO WASHINGTON. another trunk close by — a worn, and scarred, and ancient hair relic, with " B. S." wrought in brass nails on its top ; on it lay a pair of saddle-bags that probably knew more about the last century than they could tell. Washington got up and walked the floor a while in a restless sort of way, and finally was about to sit down on the hair trunk. " Stop, don't sit down on that ! " exclaimed the Colonel. " There, now — that's all right — the chair's better. I couldn't get another trunk like that — not another like it in America, I reckon." " I am afraid not," said "Washington, with a faint attempt at a smile. '' No indeed ; the man is dead that made that trunk and that saddle-bags." DIFFERENCE BETWEEN STEALING AND TAKING. 555 "Are his great-grand-ehildren still living?" said Washing- ton, with levity only in the VFords, not in the tone. " Well, I don't know— I hadn't thought of that— but any- way they can't make trunks and saddle-bags like that, if they are — no man can," said the Colonel with honest simplicity. " Wife didn't like to see me going off with that trunk — she said it was nearly certain to be stolen." " Why ? " " Why ? Why, aren't trunks always being stolen ? " " Well, yes — some kinds of trunks are." " Yery well, then ; this is some kind of a trunk — and an almighty rare kind, too." " Yes, I believe it is." " Well, then, why shouldn't a man want to steal it if he got a chance ? " "Indeed I don't know.— Why should he?" " Washington, I never lieard anybody talk like you. Sup- pose you were a thief, and "that trunk was lying around and nobody watching — wouldn't yoa steal it? Come, now, answer fair — wouldn't you steal it ? " " Well, now, since you corner me, I don't know but I would take it, — but I wouldn't consider it stealing." " You wouldn't ! Well, that beats me. Now what would you call stealing ? " "Why, taking property is stealing." " Property ! Now what a way to talk that is. What do you suppose that trunk is worth ? " " Is it in good repair ? " " Perfect. Hair rubbed off a little, but the main structure is perfectly sound." " Does it leak anywhere? " "Leak? Do you want to carry water in it? What do you mean b}' does it leak ? " "Why — a — do the clothes fall out of it when it is— when it is stationary ? " " Confound it, Washington, you are trying to make fun of 556 THE TENNESSEE LANDS AGAIN. me. I don't know what has got into you to-day ; you act mighty curious. What is the matter with you ? " " Well, I'll tell you, old friend. I am almost happy. I am, indeed. It wasn't Clay's telegram that hurried me up so and got me ready to start with you. It was a letter from Louise." " Good ! What is it ? What does she say ? " " She says come home — her father has consented, at last." " My boy, I want to congratulate you ; I want to shake yoii by the hand ! It's a long turn that has no lane at the end of it, as the proverb says, or somehow that way. You'll be happy yet, and Beriah Sellers will be there to see, thank God ! " " I believe it. General Boswell is pretty nearly a poor man, now. The railroad that was going to build up Hawk- eye made short work of him, along with the rest. He is'nt so opposed to a son-in-law without a fortune, now." " Without a fortune, indeed ! Why that Tennessee Land—" " Never mind the Tennessee Land, Colonel. I am done with that, forever and forever — " " Why no ! You can't mean to s,a.y — " " My father, away back yonder, years ago, bought it for a blessing for his children, and — " " Indeed he did ! Si Hawkins said to me — " " It proved a curse to him as long as he lived, and never a curse like it was inflicted upon any man's heirs — " " I'm bound to say there's more or less truth — " " It began to cnrse me when I was a baby, and it has cursed every hour of my life to this day — " " Lord, lord, hut it's so ! Time and again my wife — " " I depended on it all through my boyhood and never tried to do an honest stroke of work for my living — " " Right again — but then you — " " I have chased it years and years as children chase butter- flies. We might all have been prosperous, now ; we might THE COLONEL'S TRUE CALLING. 557 all have been happy, all these heart-breaking years, if we had accepted our poverty at first and gone contentedly to work and built up our own weal by onr own toil and sweat — " " It's so, it's so ; bless my soul, how often I've toM Si Hawkins — " " Instead of that, we have suffered more than the damned themselves suffer! I loved my father, and I honor his memory and recognize his good intentions ; but I grieve for his mistaken ideas of conferring happiness upon his children. I am going to begin my life over again, and begin it and end it with good solid work ! I'll leave my children no Tennes- see Land !" " Spoken like a man, sir, spoken like a man ! Your hand, again my boy ! And always remember that when a word of advice from Beriah Sellers can help, it is at your service. I'm goilig to begin again, too !" "Indeed!" "Yes, sir. I've seen enough to show me where my mis- take was. The law is what I' was born for. I shall begin the study of the law. Heavens and earth, but that Braham's a wonderful man— a wonderful man sir! Such a head ! And such a way witli him ! But I could see that he was jealous of me. The little licks I got in in tlie course of my argument before the jnry — " " Your argument ! Why, you were a witness." " Oh, yes, to the popular eye, to the popular eye — but / knew when I was dropping information and when I was let- ting drive at the court with an insidious argument. But the court knew it, bless j'ou, and weakened every time ! And Braham knew it. I just reminded him of it in a quiet way, and its final result, and he said in a wliisper, ' You did it. Colonel, you did it, sir — but keep it mum for my sake ; and I'll tell you what you do,' says he, ' you go into the law. Col. Sellers — go into the law, sir ; that's your native element !' And into the law the subscriber is going. There's worlds of money in it ! — whole worlds of money ! Practice first in Hawkey e, then 658 TO PAY OR NOT TO PAY. in Jefferson, then in St. Louis, then in New York ! In the metropolis of the western world ! Climb, and climb, and climb — and wind np on the Sinpremc bench. Beriah Sellers, Chief Justice of the ^S'wpreme Court of the United States, sir ! A made man for all time and eternity ! That's the way / block it out, sir — and it's as clear as day — clear as the rosy morn t" Washington had heard little of this. The first reference to Ijaura's trial had brought the old dejection to his face again, and he stood gazing out of the window at nothing, lost in reverie. There was a knock — the postman handed in a letter. It was from Obedstown. East Tennessee, and was for Washing- ton. He opened it. There was a note saying that enclosed he would please find a bill for the current year's taxes on the 75,000 acres of Tennessee Land belonging to the estate of Silas Hawkins, deceased, and added that the money must be paid within sixty days or the land would be sold at public auction for the taxes, as provided by law. The bill was for $180 — something more than twice the market value of the land, perhaps. Washington hesitated. Doubts flitted through his mind. The old instinct came upon him to cling to tlie land just a little longer and give it one more chance. He wa.ked the floor feverishly, his mind tortured by indecision. Presently he stopped, took out his pocket book and counted his money. Two hundred and thirty dollars — it was all he had in the world. " One hundred and eighty from two hundred and thirty," he said to himself. " Fifty left It is enough to get me home Shall I do it, or shall I not ? I wish I had somebody to decide for me." The pocket book lay open in his hand, with Louise's small letter in view. His eye fell upon that, and it decided him. " It shall go for taxes," he said, " and never tempt me or mine any more !" THE CURSE ENDED. 559 He opened the window and stood there tearing the tax bill to bits and watching the breeze waft them away, till all were gone. " The spell is broken, the life-long curse is ended 1" he said. " Let ns go." The baggage wagon had arrived ; five minutes later the TDK rUKSE liNPED. two friends were mounted upon their luggage in it, and rattling oif toward the station, the Colonel endeavoring to sing " Homeward Bound," a song whose words he knew, but whose tune, as he rendered it, was a trial to auditors. CHAPTER LXIL Gedi kanadibea tsanuawa. " — La xalog, la xamaih mi-x-ul nu qiza u qu'ial gili, u qu'ial agab? Habinal-Achi. PHILIP STEELIISTG'S circumstances were becoming straightened. The prospect was gloomy. His long siege of unproductive labor was beginning to tell upon his spirits ; but what told still more upon them was the undenia- ble fact that the promise of ultimate success diminished eveiy day, now. That is to say, the tunnel had reached a point in the hill which was considerably beyond where the coal vein should pass (according to all his calculations) if there were a coal vein there ; and so, every foot that the tunnel now pro- gressed seemed to carry it further away from the object of the search. Sometimes he ventured to hope that he had made a mis- take in estimating the direction which the vein should natu- rally take after crossing the valley and entering the hill. Upon such occasions he would go into the nearest mine on the vein he was hunting for, and once more get the bearings of the deposit and mark out its probable course ; but the re- sult was the same every time; his tunnel had manifestly pierced beyond the natural point of junction ; and then his spirits fell a little lower. His men had alreadj^ lost faith, and he often overheard them saying it was perfectly plain that there was no coal in the hill. Foremen and laborers from neighboring mines, and no end 560 THE INFALLIBLE SIGN. 561 of experienced loafers from the village, visited tlie tunnel from time to time, and their verdicts were always the same and always disheartening—" No coal in that hill." Now and then Philip would sit down and think it all over and wonder what the mystery meant ; then he would go into the tunnel and ask the men if there were no signs yet ? None — always " none." He would bring out a piece of rock and examine it, and say to himself, " It is limestone — it has crinoids and corals in it — the rock is right." Then he would throw it down with a sigh, and say, " But that is nothing ; where coal is, limestone with these fossils in it is pretty certain to lie against its foot easing ; but it does not necessarily follow that where this pe- culiar rock is, coal must lie above it or beyond it ; this sign is not sufficient." The thought usually followed : — " There is one infallible sign — if I could only strike that ! " Three or four times in as many weeks he said to himself, "Am I a visionary ? I must be a visionary ; everybody is in these days ; everybody chases butterflies : everybody seeks sudden fortune and will not lay one up by slow toil. This is not right, I will discharge the men and go at some honest work. There is no coal here. What a fool I have been ; I will give it up." But he never could do it. A half hour of profound tliink- ing always followed ; and at the end of it he was sure to get up and straighten himself and say : " There is coal there ; I will not give it up ; and coal or no coal I will drive the tun- nel clear through the hill ; I will not surrender while I am alive." He never thought of asking Mr. Montague for more money. He said there was now but one chance of finding coal against nine hundred and ninety nine that he would not find it, and so it would be wrong in him to make the request and foolish in Mr. Montague to grant it. He had been working three shifts of men. Finally, the settling of a weekly account exhausted his means. He could 36- 562 A GENEROUS OFFER. not afford to run in debt, and therefore he gave the men their discharge. They came into his cabin presently, where he sat witli his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, the picture of discouragement and their spokesman said: " Mr. Sterling, when Tim was down a week with his faU you kept him on half wages and it was a mighty help to his A PARTING BLAST OFFERED. family ; whenever any of us was in trouble you've done what you could to help us out ; you've acted fair and square with us every time, and 1 reckon we are men and know a man when we see him. We haven't got any faith in that hill, but we have a respect for a man that's got the pluck that you've showed ; youv'e fought a good fight, with every- body agin yoti and if we had grub to go on, I'm d — d if we wouldn't stand by you till the cows come home ! That is what the boys say. Now we want to put in one parting blast for luck. "We want to work three days more ; if we don't find anything, we won't bring in no bill against you. That is what we've come to say." Philip was touched. If he had had money enough to buy three days' " grub" he would have accepted the generous offer, THE HERMIT'S LIFE REALIZED. 563 bnt as it was, he could not consent to be less magnanimous than the men, and so he declined in a manly speech, shook hands all around and resumed his solitary communings. The men went back to the tunnel and " put in a parting blast for luck " anyhow. They did a full day's work and then took their leave. They called at his cabin and gave him good-bye, but were not able to tell him their day's efibrt had given things a more promising look. The next day Philip sold all the tools but two or three sets ; he also sold one of the now deserted cabins as old lumber, together with its domestic wares, and made up his mind that he would buy provisions with the triile of money thus gained and continue his work alone. About the middle of the after- noon he put on his roughest clothes and went to the tunnel. He lit a candle and groped his way in. Presently he heard the sound of a pick or a drill, and wondered what it meant. A spark of light now appeared in the far end of the tunnel, and when he arrived there he found the man Tim at work. Tim said : " I'm to have a job in the Golden Brier mine by and by — in a week or ten days — and I'm going to work here till then. A man might as well be at some thing, and besides I consider that I owe you what you paid me when I was laid up." Philip said, Oh, no, he didn't owe anything; but Tim persisted, and then Philip said he had a little provision, now, and would share. So for several days Philip held the drill and Tim did the striking. At first Philip was impatient to see the result of every blast, and was always back and peering among the smoke the moment after the explosion. But there was never any encouraging result ; and therefore he finally lost almost all interest, and hardly troubled himself to inspect results at all. He simply labored on, stubbornly and with little hope. Tim staid with him till the last moment, and then took up his job at the Golden Brier, apparently as depressed by the continued barrenness of their mutual labors as Philip was 564 DISCOURAGED. himself. After that, Philip fought his battle alone, day after daj, and slow work it was ; he could scarcely see that he made any progress. Late one afternoon he finished drilling a hole which he had been at work at for more than two hours ; he swabbed it out, and poured in the powder and inserted the fuse ; then filled up the rest of the hole with dirt and small fragments of stone ; tamped it down firmly, touched his candle to the fuse, and THE LAST BLAST. ran By and by the dull report came, and he was about to walk back mechanically and see what was accomplished ; but lie halted ; presently turned on his heel and thought, rather than said : "No, this is useless, this is absurd. If I found anything it would only be one of those little aggravating seams of coal which doesn't mean anything, and — ." By this time he was walking out of the tunnel. His thought ran on : A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 565 "I am conquered I am out of provisions, out of money I have got to give it up All this hard work lost ! But I am not conquered ! I will go and work for money, and come back and have another fight with fate. Ah me, it may be years, it may be years." Arrived at the mouth of the tunnel, he threw his coat upon the ground, sat down on a stone, and his eye sought the west- ering sun and dwelt upon the charming landscape which stretched its woody ridges, wave upon wave, to the golden horizon. Something was taking place at his feet which did not attract his attention. His reverie continued, and its burden grew more and more gloomy. Presently he rose up and cast a look far away toward the valley, and his thoughts took a new direction : " There it is ! How good it looks ! But down there is not up here. Well, I will go home and pack up — there is nothing else to do." He moved off moodily toward his cabin. He had gone some distance before he thought of his coat ; then he was about to turn back, but he smiled at the thought, and con- tinued his journey — such a coat as that could be of little use in a civilized land. A little further on, he remembered that there were some papers of value in one of the pockets of the relic, and then with a petulant ejaculatidn he turned back picked up the coat and put it on. He made a dozen steps, arid then stopped very suddenly. He stood still a moment, as one who is trying to believe some- thing and cannot. He put a hand up over his shoulder and felt his back, and a great thrill shot through him. He grasped the skirt of the coat impulsively and another thrill followed. He snatched the coat from his back, glanced at it, threw it from him and flew back to the tunnel. He sought the spot where the coat had lain — he had to look close, for the light was waning — then to make sure, he put his hand to the ground and a little stream of water swept against his fingers : 566 FOUND AT LAST, " Thank God, I've struck it at last !" He lit a candle and ran into the tunnel ; he picked up a piece of rubbish cast out by the last blast, and said : " This clayey stuff is what I've longed for — I know what is behind it." He swung his pick with hearty good will till long after the STRUCK IT AT LAST. darkness had gathered upon the earth, and when he trudged home at length he knew he had a coal vein and that it was seven feet thick from wall to wall. He found a yellow envelop lying on his rickety table, and recognized that it was of a family sacred to the transmission of telegrams. He opened it, read it, crushed it in his hand and threw it down. It simply said : " Euth is very ill." CHAPTER LXIIT. Alalia pomaikal kaua, ola na Iwi iloka o ko kaua mau la elemakule. Laieikawai, 9. ep : 3 : ^.Oi^a^ IT was evening when Philip took the cars at the Ilium station. The news of his success had preceded him, and while he waited for the train, he was the center of a group of eager questioners, who asked him a hundred things about the mine, and magnified his good fortune. There was no mis- take this time. Philip, in luck, had become suddenly a person of consider- ation, whose speech was freighted with meaning, whose looks were all significant. The words of the proprietor of a rich coal mine have a golden sound, and his common sayings are repeated as if they were solid wisdom. Philip wished to be alone ; his good fortune at this moment seemed an empty mockery, one of those sarcasms of fate, such as that which spreads a dainty banquet for the man who has no appetite. He had longed for success principally for Euth's sake ; and perhaps now, at this very moment of his triumph, she was dying. " Shust what I said, Mister Sderling," the landlord of the Ilium hotel kept repeating. " I dold Jake Schmidt he find him dere shust so sure as noting." 567 568 PHILIP LEAVES ILIUM. " Tou ought to have taken a share, Mr. Dusenheimer," said Philip. " Yaas, I know. But d'old woman, she say ' Tou sticks to THE EICH PKOPKIETOE. your pisiness. So I sticks to 'em. Und I makes noting. Dat Mister Prierly, he don't never come back here no more, ain't it?" "Why? "asked Philip. " Yell, dere is so many peers, und so many oder dhrinks, I got 'em all set down, veu he coomes back." It was a long night for Philip, and a restless one. At any other time the swing of the cars would have lulled him to sleep, and the rattle and clank of wheels and rails, the roar of the whirling iron would have only been cheerful reminders of swift and safe travel. Now they were voices of warning and taunting ; and instead of going rapidly the train seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. And it not only crawled, but it frequent.y stopped ; and when it stopped it stood dead stUl, A LONG NIGHT. 569 and there was an ominous silence. Was anything the matter, he wondered. Only a station probably. Perhaps, he thought, a telegraphic station. And then he listened eagerly. Would the conductor open the door and ask for Philip Sterling, and hand him a fatal dispatch ? How long they seemed to wait. And then slowly begin- ning to move, they were oif again, shaking, pounding, scream- ing through the night. He drew his curtain from time to time and looked oat. There was the lurid sky line of the wooded range along the base of which they were crawling. There was the Susquehannah, gleaming in the moon-light. There was a stretch of level valley with silent farm houses, the occupants all at rest, without trouble, witliout anxiety. There was a church, a graveyard, a mill, a village ; and now, without pause or fear, the train had mounted a trestle-work high in air and was creeping along the top. of it while a swift ■torrent foamed a hundred feet below. What would the morning bring ? Even while he was fly- ing to her, her gentle spirit might have gone on another flight, whither he could not follow her. He was full of fore- boding. He fell at length into a restless doze. There was a noise in his ears as of a rushing torrent when a stream is swollen by a freshet in the spring. It was like the breaking up of life ; he was struggling in the consciousness of coming death : when Kuth stood by his side, clothed in white, with a face like that of an angel, radiant, smiling, pointing to the sky, and saying, " Come." He awoke with a cry — the train was roaring through a bridge, and it shot out into daylight. When morning came the train was industriously toiling along through the fat lands of Lancaster, with its broad farms of corn and wheat, its mean houses of stone, its vast barns and granaries, built as if for storing the riches of Heliogab- alus. Then came the smiling fields of Chester, with their English green, and soon the county of Philadelphia itself, and the increasing signs of the approach to a great city. Long trains of coal cars, laden and unladen, stood upon sidings • 570 THE SICK CHAMBEE. the tracks of other roads were crossed ; the smoke of other locomotives was seen on parallel lines ; factories multiplied ; streets appeared ; the noise of a busy city began to fill the air; and with a slower and slower clank on the connecting rails and interlacing switches the train rolled into the station and stood still. It was a hot August morning. The broad streets glowed in the sun, and the white-shuttered houses stared at the hot thoroughfares" like closed bakers' -ovens set along the high- way. Philip was oppressed with the heavy air ; the sweltering city lay as in a swoon. Taking a street car, he rode away to the northern part of the city, the newer portion, formerly the district of Spring Garden, for in this the Boltons now lived, in a small brick house, befitting their altered fortunes. He could scarcely restrain his impatience when he came in sight of the house. The window shutters were not " bowed "; thank God, for that. Euth was still living, then. He ran up the steps and rang. Mrs. Bolton met him at the door. " Thee is very welcome, Philip." "And Euth?" " She is very ill, but quieter than she has been, and the fever is a little abating. The most dangerous time will be when the fever leaves her. The doctor fears she wiU not have strength enough to rally from it. Yes, thee can see her." Mrs. Bolton led the way to the little chamber where Euth lay. " Oh," said her mother, " if she were only in her cool and spacious room in our old home. She says that seems like heaven." Mr. Bolton sat by Euth's bedside, and he rose and silently pressed Philip's hand. The room had but one window ; that was wide open to admit the air, but the air that came in was hot and lifeless. Upon the table stood a vase of flowers. Euth's eyes we:-e closed ; her cheeks were flushed with fever, and she moved her head restlessly as if in pain. " Euth," said Iier mother, bending over her, " Philip is here." THE SICK CHAMBER. PHILIP DRAWS EUTH BACK TO LIFE. 571 Euth's eyes unclosed, there was a gleam of recognition in them, there was an attempt at a smile upon her face, and she tried to raise her thin hand, as Philip touched her forehead with his Hps ; and he heard her murmur, "Dear Phil." There was nothing to be done but to watch and wait for the cruel fever to burn itself out. Dr. Longstreet told Philip that the fever had undoubtedly been contracted in the hos- pital, but it was not malignant, and would be little dangerous if Ruth were not so worn down with work, or if she had a less delicate constitution. " It is only her indomitable will that has kept her up for weeks. And if that should leave her now, there will be no hope. You can do more for her now, sir, than I can ?" " How ?" asked Philip eagerly. " Tour presence, more than anything else, will inspire her with the desire to live." "When the fever turned, Ruth was in a very critical con- dition. For two days her life was like the fluttering of a lighted candle in the wind. Philip was constantly by her side, and she seemed to be conscious of his presence, and to cling to him, as one borne away by a swift stream clings to a stretched-out hand from the shore. If he was absent a mo- ment her restless eyes sought something they were disap- pointed not to find. Philip so yearned to bring her back to life, he willed it so strongly and passionately, that his will appeared to afiect hers and she seemed slowly to draw life from his. - After two days of this struggle with the grasping enemy, it was evident to Dr. Longstreet that Ruth's will was be- ginning to issue its orders to her body with some force, and that strength was slowly coming back. In another day there was a decided improvement. As Philip sat holding her weak hand and watching the least sign of resolution in her face, Ruth was able to whisper, " I so want to live, for you, Phil !" " You will, darling, you must," said Philip in a tone of 5Y2 THE MINE A SUCCESS. faith and courage that carried a thrill of determinatiou — of command — along all her nerves. Slowly Philip drew her back to life. Slowly she came back, as one willing but well nigh helpless. It was new for Iluth to feel this dependence on another's nature, to con- sciously draw strength of will from the will of another. It was a new but a dear joy, to be lifted up and carried back into the happy world, which was now all aglow with the light of love ; to be lifted and carried by the one she loved more than her own life. " Sweetheart," she said to Philip, " I would not have cared to come back but for thy love." " Not for thy profession ?" " Oh, thee may be glad enough of that some day, when thy coal bed is dug o\it and thee and father are in the air again." When Euth was able to ride she was taken into the coun- try, for the pure air was necessary to her speedy recovery. The family -went with her. Philip could not be spared from her side, and Mr. Bolton had gone up to Ilium to look into that wonderful coal mine and to make arrangements for de- veloping it, and bringing its wealth to market. Philip had insisted on re-conveying the Ilium property to Mr. Bolton, retaining onlj' the share originally contemplated for himself, and Mr. Bolton, therefore, once more found himself engaged in business and a person of some consequence in Third street. The mine turned out even better than was at first hoped, and would, if judiciously managed, be a fortune to them all. This also seemed to be the opinion oi Mr. Bigler, who heard of it as soon as anybody, and, with the impudence of his class called upon Mr. Bolton for a little aid in a patent car-wheel he had bought an interest in. That rascal, Small, he said, had swindled him out of all he had. Mr. Bolton told him he was very sorry, and recommended him to sue SmaU. Mr. Small also came with a similar story about Mr. Bigler; and Mr. Bolton had the grace to give him like advice. And he added, " If you and Bigler will procure the indictment of BACK TO HEALTH. 573 each other, you may have the satisfaction of putting each other in the penitentiary for the forgery of my acceptances." Bigler and Small did not quarrel however. They hoth attacked Mr. Bolton behind his back as a swindler, and circu- lated the story that he had made a fortune by failing. In the pure air of the highlands, amid the golden glories of ripening September, Ruth rapidly came back to health. How beautiful the world is to an invalid, whose senses are all clari- fied, who has been so near the world of spirits that she is sensitive to the finest influences, and whose frame responds ■with a thrill to the subtlest ministrations of soothing nature. Mere life is a luxury, and the color of the grass, of the flowers, of the sky, the wind in the trees, the out-lines of th« horizon, the forms of clouds, all give a pleasure as exquisite as the sweetest music to the ear famishing for it. The world was all new and fresh to Ruth, as if it had just been created for her, and love filled it, till her heart was overflowing with happiness. 574 ALICE. It was golden September also at Fallkill. And Alice sat by the open window in her room at home, looking out upon the meadows where the laborers were cutting the second crop of clover. The fragrance of it floated to her nostrils. Perhaps she did not mind it. She was thinking. She had just been writing to Euth, and on the table before her was a yellow piece of paper with a faded four-leaved clover pinned on it — only a memory now. In her letter to Ruth she had poured out her heartiest blessings upon them both, with her dear love forever and forever. '•' Thank God," she said, " they will never know." They never would know. And the world never knows how many women there are like Alice, whose sweet but lonely lives of self-sacrifice, gentle, faithful, loving souls, bless it continually. " She is a dear girl," said Philip, when Puth showed him the letter. " Yes, Phil, and we can spare a great deal of love for her, our own lives are so full." "in'tJ'Nia im nnna nica APPENDIX. APPENDIX. Perhaps some apology to the reader is necessary in view of our failure to find Laura's father. We supposed, from the ease with which lost persons are found in novels, that it would not be difficult. Eut it was ; indeed, it was impossible ; and therefore the portions of the narrative containing the record of the search have been stricken out. Not because they were not interesting — for they were ; but inasmuch as the man was not found, after all, it did not seem wise to harass and excite the reader to no purpose. The Authoes. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BT ^lie- ^ittijer!!|Hii | JttHwIlliig ^^n.f HARTFORD, - CONN. » PBICTE IK CLOTH. The Gilded Age, - - - _ 3_. 5 Mark Twain and ■^ ( Chas. Dudley Waener. $3.50 Everybody's Friend, - - - " Josh Billings. 3.50 Life Amongst the Modocs, - " Joaquin Miller. 3.00 My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's, " Marietta Hollet. 2.50 Roughing It, - By Mark Twaiit. 3.50 Innocents Abroad, - .. " « 3.30 Sights and Sensations in Europe, - " Junius Henri Brown . 3.00 Overland Through Asia, « Thomas W. Knox. 3.50 My Captivity Among the Sioux, - " Fanny Kelly. 1.50 Agriculture, - - - " Alexander Hyde. 1.50 The Uncivilized Races of Men, - •' J. G. Wood. 6.00 Personal History of U. S. Grant, " A. D. Richardson. 3.00 Beyond the Mississippi, " *( (( ^ 3.60 Field, Dungeon and Escape, * ti «