HISEEHE^ 
 
 
 
 ^-»*^f. 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 FROM 
 
 "B.S.'fcnroe 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1299.C166R2 
 
 Random shots 
 
 3 1924 022 011 377 
 
The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022011377 
 
Random Shots 
 
 BY 
 
 MAX ADELER fc.i«.jo) 
 
 Author of " Elbow-Room/' " Out of the Huely-Burly," etc. 
 
 WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS, BY 
 ARTHUR B. FROST 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. M. STODDART & CO. 
 
 1879 
 
Copyright, 1878, ' 
 bv chas. heber clark. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ^HIS volume of stories and sketches is 
 offered to the public with a confidence 
 born of the fact that the two books which 
 preceded it from my pen, " Out of the 
 Hurly-Burly " and " Elbow-Room," have been 
 sold in numbers so large as to leave no room 
 for doubt that they have been received with 
 favour. That this unpretentious work will prove 
 equally popular is a reasonable expectation, for some 
 portions of its contents are at least equal in merit, 
 and in attractiveness to lovers of honest fun, to the 
 best that may be found between the covers of its 
 predecessors. Doubtless, also, it has its full share of 
 faults ; but if these are forgiven by generous readers 
 as readily as others have been in the past, I shall 
 have no reason to complain that I have been treated 
 with unkindness. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It is only fair to say to the reader of the Mormon 
 story in this volume that if he is reminded of Artemus 
 Ward by a phrase which alludes to a number of 
 hearts " beating as one," he cannot excuse me upon 
 the theory of unconscious plagiarism. I took the 
 idea deliberately, because it exactly suited the place 
 into which it was put. 
 
 MAX ADELER. 
 

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 CONTENTS 
 
 The Tragedy of Thompson Dunbar 9 
 
 Mr. Skinner's Night in the Underworld 57 
 
 Miss Hammer's Lovers 107 
 
 The Glee Club Tournament 167 
 
 How Jack Forbes was Avenged 183 
 
 Jerome Pinnickson's Mother-in-Law 203 
 
 Professor Quackenboss 227 
 
 Babies r--- 242 
 
 The Shoals Lighthouse 254 
 
 Mr. Fisher's Bereavements 273 
 
 The Adventures of Abner Byng 284 
 
 Mr. Toombs, the Undertaker 301 
 
 Miss Wilmer's Adventure 314 
 
(By the Same Author. 
 
 ELBOW-ROO M. 
 
 -A. N-OVXGXi "VSTITHOTIT J3l FLOT. 
 
 UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME. 
 
 Price in Paper, 7S Cts.; in Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. FROST. 
 
 "A perfect specimen of American humor." — Arthur's Magazine. 
 
 *:(-* Possesses all the charms and none of the faults of humorous books. 
 — Burlington (Iowa) Hawkeye, 
 
 " Elbow-Room " contains a good deal of wholesome nonsense, sparkling 
 fun, and comical illustrations." — Chicago Advance. 
 
 *** It sparkles all through with the freshest and happiest humor.— /»- 
 ielligencer , Lancaster y Pa. 
 
t %tn^thji tl %\tmf^n Jlttnkn 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ELOPEMENT, 
 
 ALT LAKE CITY; the Mormon capital! Let 
 us look at it. It lies deep in the vaUey, in a 
 valley which is six thousand feet above the 
 level of the sea. To the right, to the left, to the north, 
 the south, the east, and the west, mountains ! 
 
 Some near, some far. Some mighty, some dwarfed 
 by contrast with the greater. A serrated chain of hills 
 filling the whole horizon and outlining their dusky sum- 
 mits clearly against the pure blue of the sky. From 
 among them the Twin Peaks rise, boldly and grandly, 
 seventy-five hundred feet above the valley, and stand in 
 hoary grandeur, their snow-clad tops the reservoirs from 
 which the plain draws inexhaustible supplies of cold and 
 limpid water. The plain itself, a wide stretch of sandy 
 earth, partly cultivated, but almost wholly covered upon 
 
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 this August day with myriads of gleaming golden sun- 
 flowers, which to him who takes a bird's-eye view, seem 
 a garb altogether glorious. Lying in the midst of it, the 
 city. 
 
 America has no other like it. Surveyed from a 
 distance it wears a distinctly Oriental appearance. So 
 we of the Far West who have only dreamed of the East, 
 imagine how Damascus may look. White houses shin- 
 ing amid rich masses of green foliage. A dome, a tower, 
 a spire, that may answer for a minaret, deep gardens, 
 buildings with flat roofs, a faint mist of dust marking the 
 Kne of a travelled street, a sky of more than Oriental 
 softness overhead, and an atmosphere so pure that to 
 breathe it is luxury, and to look through it is to gain such 
 power of- vision that the peaks of the Wasatch range, 
 twenty miles away, seem within reach of the pedestrian 
 who has five minutes to spare. 
 
 In the city there are broad streets covered with gravel. 
 Upon each side where the gutter should be, there is a 
 stream of pure and delicious water hurtling fiercely along 
 with the impetus gained at the top of the Twin Peaks. 
 The dwellings of stone, of wood, of adobe or sun-burned 
 bricks, are far apart and enshrined among mighty trees. 
 Shops, here and there, thrust themselves out to the edge 
 of the footway, and offer their wares to the passers-by. 
 
 It is a queer throng that is thus tempted. Such a 
 one as no other street in this broad earth can gather. 
 Here is a Mormon saint, a patriarch with twelve wives, 
 and so many children that he is compelled to refer to his 
 memorandum book for a list of them. Stout, i-ugged, 
 coarse in nature and feature, he is of the kind that found 
 
THE- TRA GEO Y OF 1 1 
 
 his valley a wilderness and transformed it into a luscious 
 garden. There is a Utah Indian, clad perhaps in a stove- 
 pipe hat, a blanket, and buckskin breeches. He wears 
 huge earrings, long straight hair, thick, and as black as 
 midnight. Here is a Mexican — dashing along at break- 
 neck speed, upon a shaggy pony. He wears a dress 
 as picturesque as that of a Greek, and he is as fine a 
 horseman as the Arabian desert knows. There go two 
 army ofScers, wearing blue coats, and looking as if they 
 were in authority. They hie to the camp upon the hill 
 side, from whence the guns that they control can level 
 the city in a day. Gentile miners, with fierce whiskers, 
 broad hats, trousers tucked in boots, and pistols thrust in 
 belts, swagger about in search of firewater; Mormon 
 policemen, quiet, reserved, but keen as hounds, stand 
 upon the comers. Huge waggons drawn by six, and 
 eight, and ten mules come lumbering down the street, 
 bringing from outlying settlements of the saints the tithes 
 for the Prophet's storehouse. Hurrying past them, dash 
 graceful and elegant pleasure carriages such as Hyde 
 Park might be proud of. But where are the women ? ■ Of 
 men there are enough. Now and then a Gentile woman 
 passes, but not often ; and the Mormon women appear 
 still less frequently. It is Orientalism in the extreme 
 Occident. There is the polygamy of Turkey with an 
 approach to the custom which keeps the woman under 
 a veil. It is a strange city, a new city, bom within the 
 last half century ; a city of its own kind ; a city that is as 
 striking, as novel, as interesting, as unprecedented to the 
 view of the American who lives east of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, as it is to that of the citizen of London, 
 
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 To begin with. We have to do with a large white 
 adobe structure, which stands upon the- eastern edge of 
 the town, in the midst of a garden, wherein are trees that 
 overtop the roof, and grass that is gemmed with flowers. 
 It is Mrs. Ballygag's Boarding School for young ladies. 
 Two young men meet at the gate. We recognize them 
 as young Mormons. One is Thompson Dunbar ; the 
 other is Arbutus Jones. Arbutus is speaking. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I shall marry them ; clean out the school. 
 I have had a special revelation ; the entire senior class 
 has been sealed to me, and I am going to marry the two 
 other classes so as to make a complete job of it." 
 
 " But the senior and junior classes have engaged 
 themselves to me," replied Dunbar. " I proposed to them 
 yesterday, and they said that they could love me alone." 
 
 " Can't help that," said Jones ; " I have arranged the 
 matter with the Prophet and the parents. The entire 
 concern has been offered me in marriage, and I am now 
 on my way to see Mrs. Ballygag, and to get her to wind 
 up the term and graduate them at once." 
 
 "This is maddening ! " exclaimed Dunbar. "Jones, 
 the affections of those classes have been given to me — 
 their young hearts are mine. What right have you to 
 come in and trample rudely upon the holiest emotions of 
 your fellow-creatures ? " 
 
 "The best of rights, in this case," said Jones. "It 
 has been revealed to me that my duty is to annex this 
 boarding-school. It is a sacred obligation. There is not 
 a bit of use, you know, Dunbar, in your kicking against 
 the decrees of the church." 
 
 " But you don't want the whole thirty-two of them ? " 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 13 
 
 "Yes, sir; I want them all. I claim them as my 
 bride." 
 
 " I love them all dearly," said Dunbar ; " but sooner 
 than have any fuss I'll let you pick sixteen, if you'U leave 
 me the rest." 
 
 " No ; I shall take them all. But I don't know ; 
 maybe, I might agree to leave you the one with warm 
 hair and freckles. My heart, somehow, doesn't throb 
 wildly for her." * 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Dunbar. 
 
 " Oh, very well, then. Let her alone. I'll pool her in 
 with the rest." 
 
 The eye of Thompson Dunbar flashed fire. Step- 
 ping up to Arbutus Jones, he whispered fiercely in his ear : 
 
 " You think you will marry this school. Never ! 
 never ! I swear it ! My faith is pledged to the women 
 of my love, and they shall be mine. Mark what I say ! 
 I shall make them my wife ! " 
 
 Arbutus Jones opened the gate, and, turning away 
 with a light laugh, he said, " Dunbar, don't talk like an 
 idiot," and then he walked up to the porch, pulled the 
 door-bell, and called for Mrs. Ballygag. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar sauntered sadly down the street, 
 meditating upon his plans. Secretly he entered his office, 
 and writing thirty-two letters, he dispatched them through 
 the post, and then went towards the livery-stable. 
 
 Midnight came. Dark, cold, and silent. The belated 
 wayfarer, walking into town, was startled to perceive, 
 rushing by him in the gloom, a man, who seemed to be 
 carrying a coil of rope upon his arm. Behind him eight 
 carriages proceeded slowly, and with little noise. 
 
14 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " A midnight funeral procession." the traveller thought. 
 
 The man stopped in front of Mrs. Ballygag's mansion. 
 The carriages halted by the kerbstone, a hundred yards 
 below. The man opened the gate noiselessly, and walked 
 quickly around to the side of the house. He uttered a 
 low whistle, and a sash in a second-story window was 
 carefully raised. He flung toward it the end of a rope, 
 which was seized and hauled until a ladder of rope 
 stretched from the window 'to the ground. 
 
 " Come, dearest." said Thompson Dunbar, in a loud 
 whisper. " Do not be afraid. I will catch you if you fall." 
 Then the form of a lithe and graceful girl emerged from 
 the window, and glided slowly, but easily down the frail 
 ladder. Then another descended. Then another, until 
 thirty-two lithe and graceful girls had reached the ground. 
 As they came, Thompson Dunbar clasped them one by 
 one it! his arms, and kissed them fervently, pointing the 
 way to the carriages. 
 
 The last one whispered in his ravished ear that the 
 thirty-two trunks were standing, ready packed, in the 
 chamber above, and that Thompson had better see to 
 getting them down. But the idea did not seem to strike 
 Thompson. He asked himself what love had to do with 
 trunks ? He thought how little pure affection cares for 
 material things. He knew that he was ready to die for 
 his darlings. That would be heroic. But to carry thirty- 
 two trunks down a rope-ladder, he considered, in the 
 strictest sense, a prosaic performance. Did Romeo 
 shoulder Juliet's trunk .' Did Paul take Virginia upon one 
 arm, and her trunk upon the other ? , Did Petrarch inter- 
 rupt his sweet converse with Laura with struggles with 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 IS 
 
 her luggage? Rethought not. Let the trunks remain 
 as a souvenir with Mrs. Ballygag. He gloated over the 
 thought that she and Jones would weep tears of anguish 
 and helpless rage over those leathern receptacles 
 
 He went toward the carriages. They were all filled, 
 and the doors were closed. He mounted upon the seat 
 with the driver of the foremost one, and said : — 
 
 " Drive like mad, now ! Forty dollars extra for you, 
 if you reach Ogden by daylight ! " 
 
 The vehicles dashed onward swiftly through the night. 
 Over rough roads, down through canons, through dense 
 forests, over mighty hills, along the brow of more than 
 one precipice ; scaring the fox and the rabbit that lay in 
 the path ; waking the echoes of the passes, and defying 
 the winds which blew in gusty blasts from the mountain 
 tops. 
 
 It was a long and difficult ride. It would have been 
 tedious for Thompson and his bride, but for the thought 
 that each moment brought them nearer to the wedded 
 bliss which is the holiest joy that has ever sweetened 
 human life. 
 
 The day was faintly breaking over the summits of the 
 Wasatch range when the procession entered Ogden. 
 Thompson ordered his companion to drive at once to the 
 house of Bishop Potts. The Bishop's dwelling showed 
 no signs of life. He was asleep with his family— at that 
 early hour. Thompson rang the door bell fiercely. The 
 Bishop's grey head was thrust from the window. 
 
 " Who is making all that racket down there ? " he said 
 "What's the matter .' What do you want ? " 
 
 " It's I, Thompson Dunbar ! I've run over from the 
 
1 6 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 city to be married. Hurry down and perform the cere- 
 mony, please." 
 
 " Can't you get married at some less unearthly hour 
 than this ? I've been up all night with the twins and 
 sixteen others of the children, and four of Mrs. Potts have 
 not had a wink of sleep, and here you come routing us 
 out just as we are dozing off ! I'll marry you after break- 
 fast. There is no hurry about it, I reckon." 
 
 " But there is a hurry though. I've eloped with Mrs. 
 Ballygag's boarding school. It loved me, and they 
 wanted to marry it to another man, Arbutus Jones, you 
 know ; so it fled with me. We are bent on instantaneous 
 consolidation ! '' 
 
 '' How many of her are there ?" asked the Bishop. 
 
 " Only thirty-two." 
 
 " And you're single ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very well. That'll do to begin with, but a man 
 of your standing must disembowel a couple more 
 boarding schools if you want to hold your own in the 
 church! I'll come down and see what I can do for 
 you." 
 
 Thompson helped his bride to alight, and a most charm- 
 ing picture she presented, standing there in-a row in the 
 early morning light, blushing with modest joy beneath the 
 smiles and caresses of her devoted lover. While she 
 waited for the Bishop she engaged in a simultaneous 
 arrangement of her back hair. Thompson thought she 
 had never appeared so lovely as when, holding the front 
 strands in her mouth, the whole thirty-two of her twisted 
 up her tresses, and inserted her combs in them. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 17 
 
 A moment later the front door opened, and the Bishop 
 appeared in dressing-gown and slippers. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar ushered the bride into the Bishop's draw- 
 ing-room, and seated her upon the sofas and chairs. 
 Then he drew the Bishop aside. 
 
 " By the way, Bishop, what are you going to charge ? 
 What are your rates ? " 
 
 " Well," said the Bishop, smiling, " where there is only 
 one couple my regular fee is two dollars. But of course 
 I allow a discount on wholesale transactions. I'll tell you 
 what I'll do. Seeing that you are a young man, and 
 evidently in earnest in your efforts to start properly in 
 life, I'll put you the whole lot in at forty-five dollars. 
 How's that?" 
 
 " Reasonable, very reasonable, indeed," said Thomp- 
 son. 
 
 " Stand up, my dear," said the Bishop to the bride. 
 The bride stood up in a semicircle, while in the 
 doorway gathered seven or eight of the Bishop's wife, to 
 witness tjie impressive scene. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar then advanced, and taking from 
 the pocket of his coat tail a quarter of a peck of gold 
 rings he put them in his hat and handed them to the 
 Bishop, who began the service. 
 
 " Thompson Dunbar, you take these women for your 
 wedded wife? You promise to love, honour, and cherish?" 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar said, " I do." 
 The Bishop, turning to the bride, said — 
 "Emma, Henrietta, Louisa, Geraldine, Polly, Mary 
 Jane, Matilda, Gertrude, Lucy, Imogene, Sally, Rebecca, 
 
1 8 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 Maria, Georgine. Hetty, Columbia, Martha, Caroline, 
 Patty, Julia, Emily, Anastasia, Rachel, Sapphira, Ethel- 
 berta, Hannah, Josephine, Bertie, Mignon, Patience, 
 Agatha, Ann Jane— you take this man to be your wedded 
 husband? You promise to love, honour, and obey?" 
 etc., etc. 
 
 And the bride said she did, and she would. 
 
 Then Thompson, with gladness in his eyes, and wild 
 emotions in his bosom, took the hat from the Bishop and 
 walked around the semi-circle of the bride, and placed 
 the rings on her fingers. Then the Bishop pronounced 
 them man and wife; and Thompson started around 
 the bridal curve again to clasp her in succession to his 
 heart. 
 
 He was just releasing himself from the twenty-sixth 
 clasp when a wild tumult was heard in the street ; the 
 noise of hurrying wheels, the quick tramp of horses, a 
 crying of voices. The Bishop went to the casement to 
 ascertain the cause of the tumult which disturbed the 
 happy marriage festivities. Before he reached the win- 
 dow the door was hurled open with violence, and in 
 rushed Arbutus Jones. Behind him was Mrs. Ballygag. 
 
 Jones was white and breathless. Mrs. Ballygag panted, 
 and brandished in a threatening manner a protuberant 
 umbrella. 
 
 " Stop ! stop! " shouted Jones, as he projected himselt 
 into the room. " Don't go on ! I forbid the marriage ! 
 these women are to be my wife! This man is a depraved 
 villain! I command you. Bishop, not to perform the 
 ceremony ! " 
 
 " Don't you dare to do it, you grey haired old raon- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 19 
 
 ster!" shrieked Mrs. Ballygag, menacing him with her 
 umbrella. " You do it at your peril ! " 
 
 " I think," said the Bishop, serenely, " you 1 had better 
 try to be calmer. Try to restrain your emotion, as the 
 weather is too warm for violent excitement." 
 
 " Let 'em go on," said Dunbar. " It makes no differ- 
 ence if they get their emotional thermometers up to a 
 hundred and ten in the shade ; nobody cares." 
 
 "You don't care, hey?" exclaimed Mrs. Ballygag, 
 " you don't care I I'll make you care if there's any law in 
 the land. Coming round people's houses with rope-ladders 
 in the middle of the night, stealing their poor defenceless 
 children! I'll see if you don't care !" 
 
 " Children, madam ? " said the Bishop. 
 
 " Pretty tough children, these !" said Thompson, wav- 
 ing his hand toward the bride. 
 
 " Yes, children," replied Mrs. Ballygag, " mere babes 
 and sucklings. Getting married, you baggage!'' said 
 she, looking at the bride. " You're in a nice condition 
 to think about marriage ! How do you bound Nova 
 Scotia ? Tell me this instant ! Don't know ? I thought 
 not! Don't know how to bound Nova Scotia — don't 
 know that the Tropic of Capricorn is not one of the 
 United States ; don't know that the Peloponnesian war 
 was not fought by negroes in Canada West, and yet you 
 consider yourselves fitted for the responsibilities of mat- 
 rimony ! It's simply too ridiculous to be discussed." 
 
 " I am sorry, madam, that they are ignorant of the 
 geographical facts connected with the Peloponnesian war, 
 but we will try to be happy while we study them up to- 
 gether.'' 
 
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " You will never study them together," remarked 
 Arbutus Jones. " These ladies return at once with me." 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Mrs. Ballygag ; " they go back to 
 school to-day. I shall put them on bread and water, and 
 give them fifteen extra sums a-piece in Reduction of 
 Compound Numbers." 
 
 " They will no/ go back, I think," said Thompson. 
 
 " We'll see about that," replied Jones. " Girls, leave 
 the room ! " 
 
 " Don't go ! " said Thompson. 
 
 '' Attend to your own business ! " exclaimed Arbutus, 
 fiercely. 
 
 " If you speak to me in that manner again, I'll throw 
 you out of the window ! " said Dunbar. 
 
 " Lay your hand upon me and you are a dead man," 
 replied Arbutus, drawing a revolvet. 
 
 " Two can play at that game," said Thompson, 
 quickly drawing another. 
 
 What the result might have been if the dispute had 
 proceeded further can only be conjectured ; but as soon 
 as the weapons were produced, the bride shrieked wildly, 
 and the whole thirty-two o'" her fell fainting on the floor, 
 while Mrs. Ballygag collapsed, and embracing her um- 
 brella, sank unconscious in the corner. 
 
 For a moment, wild confusion prevailed ; but the 
 Bishop retained his presence of mind, and running into 
 the garden, he seized a huge watering-pot, and bringing it 
 in, he sprinkled the faces of the bride with water until 
 one by one she revived. Mrs. Ballygag came to without 
 assistance, and sat up looking the picture of distress. 
 
 When all of the party were restored, the Bishop said ; 
 
"Two can play at that game, baid Thompaon.— /"a^'^ 20. 
 
22 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " Let us have no more of these scenes ! Mr. Jones, 
 it is my duty to inform you that you have come 
 too late. Mr. Dunbar is already married to these 
 ladies." 
 
 " Married ! " shouted Jones. 
 " Married!" shrieked Mrs. Ballygag. 
 " Married," replied the Bishop and Thompson. 
 " This is infamous," said Arbutus. " Dunbar, you 
 have played me a scurvy trick. But I shall be even with 
 you." 
 
 "You can have any satisfaction you want," replied 
 Dunbar. " But, I say, Jones, how about that revelation ? 
 Crooked, wasn't it ? Didn't reveal so very much after 
 all?" 
 
 " We shall see ! " exclaimed Jones ; and then smash- 
 ing his hat down savagely upon his head, he left the 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Ballygag began to cry. 
 
 " You have treated me shamefully," she said. " The 
 last quarter's bills of these girls are not paid. I can't have 
 any commencement ; the reputation of' the school is 
 ruined; and I am a poor lone widow- woman, with no- 
 body to help me ! " 
 
 And Mrs. Ballygag sank down upon a sofa and sobbed 
 violently. 
 
 Then the bride began to cry also. It was altogether 
 too melancholy for a wedding. The Bishop drew Thomp- 
 son aside. 
 
 " Dunbar," he whispered, " you'll have to do some- 
 thing for this woman. You must do the fair thing." 
 " What do you recommend ? " 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 23 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, if I were you, I'd marry her. 
 just throw her in with the rest, as a kind of job lot 
 You might as well go the whole figure, while you're 
 at it" 
 
 " I suppose I might I'll take her." 
 
 " 111 charge you only twenty-five cents extra for tying 
 the knot," said the benevolent Bishop. 
 
 " You propose it to her," said Thompson. 
 
 " Mrs. Ballygag," said the Bishop, " how would you 
 like to marry Mr. Dunbar, in with the rest ? He says he 
 is willing." 
 
 With a wild cry of joy, Mrs. Ballygag rushed forward 
 and threw her arms about Dunbar's neck and nestled her 
 head in his bosom. 
 
 " Do you love me, Thompson ?" she asked, looking up 
 at him. 
 
 " Well, yes ; that is, of course, as it were, to a — to a 
 — to a certain extent ! Take your umbrella off my toe, 
 please ; the pressure is too severe !" 
 
 " Then take me, take me !" she exclaimed. " I'll help 
 you manage the girls." 
 
 The girls looked as if they were not bursting with 
 ecstasy; but they wanted to be submissive to Thompson, 
 and so they said nothing. 
 
 Then Dunbar took Mrs. Ballygag by the hand, the 
 Bishop began the ceremony, and in a few moments she 
 was made a thirty-third of him. 
 
24 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Upon the homeward journey most of the bride rode in 
 the eight carriages, while the joyous groom occupied his 
 former seat with the coachman of the foremost vehicle. 
 The recent Mrs. Ballygag, however, was compelled by 
 the want of room also to ride with one of the drivers. 
 She entertained him during the journey by a cross-exami- 
 nation, the purpose of which was to ascertain if, in his 
 opinion, a horse is an adverb or a preposition, and if he 
 knew how to multiply vulgar fractions. When he re- 
 marked to her, " I ain't got no use for a hymn-book," she 
 parsed the sentence for him, and showed him clearly how 
 two negatives make an affirmative. 
 
 Whenever his horses were disposed to go slowly, she 
 prodded them savagely with the ferule of her umbrella, 
 and sometimes when the portion of the bride which was 
 riding in the carriage beneath her laughed too boiste- 
 rously, she would reach over and pusfi her umbrella in at 
 the window two or three times to indicate her disapproba- 
 tion of such scandalous behaviour. 
 
 Altogether, it is believed that the late widow Ballygag 
 enjoyed the trip exceedingly. But it is doubtful if the 
 diiyer did ; and it is certain Thompson did not, at least, 
 during the periods when they were passing along the 
 edges of the precipices, and she was constantly scream, 
 ing for him to come and save her from being dashed to 
 pieces. 
 
 At last, however, Salt Lake City was reached, and the 
 bridal party was taken at once to Dunbar's modest little 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 25 
 
 cottage. When the bride had all dismounted and entered 
 the drawing-room, Thompson whispered to the late Mrs. 
 Ballygag that there were four of his wife to whom he had 
 not yet been formally introduced, and he begged her to 
 perform the ceremony. She did so, remarking at the 
 same time to the girls— 
 
 " Your husband is a good and worthy man, and I want 
 you to behave well towards him. I am going to keep an 
 eye on you to see that you do it, too !" 
 
 The honeymoon passed blissfully. Thompson Dun- 
 bar was by profession a sailor, and having no ship at this 
 time he was at liberty to devote himself wholly to domes- 
 tic life. He purchased new furniture for his house. He 
 made a contract with the calico factory for permanent 
 supplies of dress goods, and the factory at once put in 
 extra looms and employed more hands. He bought bon- 
 nets with a recklessness that threatened bankruptcy. He 
 established relations with a candy manufacturer, which 
 guaranteed him the few tons of chocolate drops that he 
 required at lower rates than usual. In fact, he launched 
 himself fairly and equally upon the sea of wedded life. 
 
 Wedded hfe ! Ah, how few of us understand those 
 words as they came to Thompson Dunbar and his bride ! 
 To how few have they so rich and beautiful a meaning ! 
 Many of us think that we have had sweet experiences 
 within the sacred precincts of the home ; but not to many 
 of us is it given to have thirty-four souls with but a single 
 thought — thirty-four hearts that beat as one. The man 
 who sits down with one wife by his hearthstone, and thinks 
 he is happy, knows nothing of the tenderer joy of him who, 
 around a hearthstone twenty feet square, gathers thirty- 
 
26 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 two sweet faces (the recent Mrs. Ballygag was homely), 
 and looks love into all of those eyes that speak again. 
 Such a man has a nobler affection, a loftier aim, a purer 
 ambition, a mightier impulse to dash into the straggle 
 of life and win his bread. Who would not toil valiantly 
 with thirty-three smiles waiting to welcome him home, 
 and thirty-three hungry women to nourish ? 
 
 Thompson Dunbar was proud, and he had a right to 
 be. Never once in the early days of his married life did 
 anything happen to cloud his domestic sky ; excepting, 
 perhaps, on one occasion, when the relict of the lamented 
 Ballygag hid the kitten in his boot and forgot to tell him 
 about it ; and never did he have any doubts of the future 
 excepting when he reflected upon the anguish he should 
 suffer when his duty should call him away from those he 
 loved. 
 
 And the painful summons came at last. He was 
 ordered to join his ship at San Francisco. She was about 
 to sail upon a three years' cruise. Three years ! It 
 seemed intolerable to be separated so long from his dar- 
 lings. Poor Dunbar ! If he could have foreseen the 
 trials that were in store for him ! 
 
 The hour of parting arrived. Let us draw a veil over 
 the scene. There are some things too sacred for the vul- 
 gar eye ; some episodes in a man's life, of which to speak 
 lightly were a profanation. Mrs. Dunbar clung to him, of 
 course. Ah, may none of us ever know the agony of such 
 a farewell. May we never know what a husband suffers 
 to whom thirty-three wives are clinging in desperate woe. 
 
 He tore himself away ! He was gone ! Gone ! And 
 three groups of eleven each of heart-broken women sank 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 27 
 
 upon the front steps and sobbed in bitter despair. Then 
 they flew to the windows and gazed after him, and waved 
 their kerchiefs to him, excepting perhaps the aforetime 
 Ballygag, who, in the violence of lier emotion, waved 
 a flannel petticoat which she had been mending. 
 
 Little did they suspect what they should endure ere 
 they looked upon that fond face again ! Life is so full 
 
 of disappointments, so full of But, however, let us 
 
 go on. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar sailed away upon the bosom of the 
 mighty deep. For some Aveeks all was well. The trea- 
 cherous ocean held its powers in leash. One night there 
 was a fearful tempest, and the gallant barque, after a pro- 
 longed contest with the elements, sank to rise no more. 
 All on board were lost ; all save one. Lashed to a spar 
 Thompson Dunbr.r contrived to sustain himself in the 
 seething foam for four days. Upon the morning of the 
 fifth day he was cast upon a desert island. He crawled 
 out of the reach of the waves and fell asleep. He slum- 
 bered long, and when he awoke he released himself from 
 the spar, and looked about him. He perceived that the 
 island was small. It was only fifteen feet wide by thirty- 
 eight feet long ; but Dunbar was satisfied with it. It was 
 something for him to stand upon, to live upon. 
 
 Feeling hungry, he walked out looking to find some- 
 thing to eat. He discovered a bed of fine oysters in a 
 little cove at the northern end of the island, and to his 
 great joy he found that a huge hole in the rock contained 
 a dozen hogsheads of rain water ! These things were so 
 exceedingly fortunate that he felt sure of going through 
 the regular round of desert island experiences. But in 
 
28 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 this he was, to a certain extent, disappointed. The oysters 
 and water remained, of course, and now and then some 
 sociable bird would call and leave an egg, but none of 
 the usual desert island conveniences floated ashore. 
 
 Thompson Dunbar remained upon the island for fifteen 
 years ; but when his clothing began to wear out no vessel 
 was wrecked upon an adjacent and handy reef, and all 
 the crew drowned, so that he could have a fair chance at 
 the chests which contained clothing that fitted him 
 exactly. 
 
 And no other ship was cast ashore into which he 
 entered and found twenty bags full of Spanish doubloons, 
 which he gazed at with proud contempt, while the thought 
 occurred to him how useless such dross is, especially 
 when you are on a desert island, with no possibility of 
 spending it. 
 
 And he did not find in the cabin of such a wreck 
 double-barrelled guns and carpenter's tools, and canned 
 fruits and vegetables, and such a general variety of useful 
 and fancy articles as no ship ever included in a single 
 cargo, excepting perhaps in cases where the purpose of 
 the owners was to have been wrecked to oblige some 
 Robinson Crusoe or other, and to make him fat and com- 
 fortable. 
 
 And when he felt lonely and longed for fellowship and 
 the sweet communion of some kindred soul, it did not 
 happen that a squad of chocolate-cololired cannibals 
 dashed up in a canoe, and were all killed by a single 
 explosion of a musket ; all save one, who fell at Dun- 
 bar's feet, and became his slave and his pupil and his 
 riend. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 29 
 
 On the contrary, Dunbar had a particularly prosaic 
 time upon the island ; eating and sleeping and walking 
 about. After the first shock produced by his sense of 
 isolation had passed, he surveyed the island and made a 
 map of it. Then he took possession of it in the name 
 of his government, and formally annexed it to the United 
 States by hoisting a flag made of a felicitous combina- 
 tion of his handkerchief and his red flannel shirt. In 
 order to put in the time, and to give himself occupation 
 congenial to an American, he held elections thrice a 
 year, and he celebrated the 4th of July and Washington's 
 birthday, when they came around, by reading the Decla- 
 ration of Independence, and singing the " Star Spangled 
 Banner." 
 
 But his wife ! Did he ever think of her ? Ah, yes ! 
 The bitterness of that separation no tongue can tell. 
 Often he would lie upon his back and take from his pocket 
 the thirty-three miniatures and look at them with longing 
 and tearful eyes. And he would get to wondering which 
 was Emma, which was Rebecca, which Columbia, and 
 which Sapphira. The hneaments of Ballygag were the 
 only ones he felt certain about, but, somehow he never 
 lingered very long over them. 
 
 And he would ask himself if any of her ever thought 
 much of him. He would wonder if she was all alive, or 
 if, perchance, some of her counted him dead, and had 
 remarried. Perchance she had departed, sorrowful and 
 broken-hearted, and only thirty-three little grassy mounds 
 in the churchyard remained to mark the remains of her 
 who once had been the joy of his life. 
 
 It might be that if he should ever return home he 
 
' Often he would lie on his back and take from his pocket the thirty- 
 three miniatures and look at them." — Page 29. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 31 
 
 would find his cottage desolate, with no one to love, none 
 to caress, and it would devolve upon him to begin life 
 afresh by embezzling another boarding-school. The 
 thought was bitterness to him. Only those who have 
 learned from a sad experience what it is to lose three 
 and-thirty wives at a blow, can realize the depth and in- 
 tensity of the sufferings of this unhappy young man. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE VICTORY OF JONES. 
 
 Meantime, how did Mrs. Dunbar bear the bereavement 
 that had come to her ? For the first three or four years 
 she was hopeful ; but gradually, as the time passed swiftly 
 by, and no word came to her from the wanderer, she 
 began to feel the growing agony of despair. 
 
 Often she would go up as the evening shadows fell, 
 and stand at each of the thirty-three windows, and gaze 
 out toward the glowing west, straining all sixty-fivtf of 
 her eyes (Ethelberta had a cataract), to catch a glimpse 
 of her Thompson. But, alas 1 Thompson did not come ; 
 and as a feeling of deep sadness stole in over her souls, 
 Mrs. Dunbar would bow her heads over the infants in her 
 arms and weep. Perhaps she would wail out her woes in 
 a plaintive lullaby, which was so distorted by her sobs 
 that Ballygag's former partner would stop long enough to 
 scold her for singing flat, and not marking the dotted 
 notes with sufficient distinctness. 
 
 The misery of a suffering woman's heart ! Who shall 
 
32 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 souii i it ? And what multiplication table can compass it 
 where it is thirty-three times increased ? There are some 
 conundrums that have to be given up at the outset. 
 
 At last, however, she was forced to the conclusion that 
 Thompson was dead. It was inevitable. The ship had 
 never been heard from. No message had ever come up 
 from the roaring sea, to tell the story of her destruction. 
 She was gone ; and, without doubt, Thompson had gone 
 down fathoms deep into the cruel waters with her. Mrs. 
 Dunbar abandoned hope, and decided to mourn for him 
 as one that had been called away to another life. 
 
 As soon as her determination became known, and she 
 began to talk about putting on mourning the city mer- 
 chants noted an advance of two per cent, in crape and 
 black bombazine, and the bachelor Saints began to have 
 revelations concerning their duty to persuade her from 
 prolonging the period of her widowhood. 
 
 Arbutus Jones was enabled to perceive with perfect 
 cl-iarness, what were his obligations in the premises. He 
 made up his mind that the anguish of Mrs. Dunbar could 
 be 'assuaged only by sweet words of consolation from his 
 lips. He called early to offer his sympathies, and after- 
 wards he would go around often in the evenings and talk 
 with her about the virtues of the departed Thompson, for 
 whom, however, it was impossible for him to feel any but 
 a fictitious enthusiasm. ' 
 
 After a while, he became more assiduous in his atten- 
 tions, and he felt, reviving in his bosom, with all its vehe- 
 ment force, the love he had for her when she was maid- 
 ens. Often he would lead her forth in the twilight, and, 
 while as many of her little han is as he could conveniently 
 
" While as many ol her little hands as he could conveniently hold, lay 
 confidingly in his." — Page 32. 
 
 3 
 
34 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 hold, lay confidingly in his, they would stroll to some 
 quiet, grassy dell, and she would arrange herself in a 
 circle by the side of a. babbling brook, while he sat in 
 the centre, and whispered soft words of love to her, and 
 wall<:ed around, and pressed each of her hands, and let 
 the love light of his eyes shine on her faces, and warm to 
 life the flickering flame in her hearts. 
 
 One evening he proposed to her in a lump. He asked 
 her to be his. The Ballygag was the first to speak. She 
 said : — 
 
 " Have you examined your heart, Arbutus? Do you 
 love us truly .■" " 
 
 " Certainly ! Of course 1 Most of you, anyway. How- 
 ever, sooner than lacerate your feelings, I am willing to 
 count yoii out, and permit you to cling to the memory of 
 Thompson." 
 
 " But I'm the one that can't be counted out. If you 
 love me. I am yours ! " 
 
 ■■ I am willing to sacrifice my love for your sake, to 
 save your feelings." 
 
 " You are too noble," said the late Mrs. B. " I cannot 
 consent to such an act of heroic devotion upon your 
 part." 
 
 " I think you would be happier, maybe, without me. 
 I'll start you in another boarding-school." 
 
 " Loving heart ! And do you think I would be willing 
 to accept such unselfish kindness, when I could not repay 
 you by watching over you .■" Never ! " 
 
 "And then you know," said Jones, " Dunbar might 
 eventually turn up and it would be so comforting for him 
 to have at least one of his wives remaining to him. So 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 35 
 
 upon the whole, perhaps, I had better let you float along 
 as you are." 
 
 " Ah ! Arbutus ! I love you- more than ever when you 
 show yourself so ready to surrender your own joy for the 
 good of others. Take me, oh take me to your fond 
 bosom ! " 
 
 And the former Mrs. Ballygag fell towards him with a 
 purpose to be folded to his heart ; but Jones, with remark- 
 able presence of mind, pretended not to see her, and 
 addressed himself assiduously to the task of assisting 
 Sapphira to rise from the ground. Then the whole of 
 Mrs. Dunbar rose, and retiring a little space, went into 
 committee to consider the question. After an animated 
 debate, during which the Ballygag gave her views the 
 fidlest and most generous expression, Mrs. Dunbar 
 decided by a vote of twenty-nine to three (the woman 
 with the cataract not voting) to become the wife of Arbu- 
 tus Jones ! 
 
 Jones learned the decision with transports. One by 
 one his sweetheart was held in his fond embrace, as he 
 kissed her and promised to be true to her ; and one by 
 one, as she looked into his manly face and found there 
 the radiant joy of pure affection, she was filled with trust- 
 fulness and peace, and with him went back to her home 
 full of blissful anticipations of a future which should com- 
 pensate for all the suffering of the sorrowful past. 
 
 Mr. Jones was very anxious to be married speedily ; 
 but the widow, of course, pressed for such delay as would 
 be necessary to enable her to prepare new outfits of 
 clothing. There are always stirring times in the busi- 
 ness of a community when a Mormon wife or widow 
 
36 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 begins to make a movement in the matter of clothes. In 
 this case, the appearance of Mrs. Dunbar unexpectedly 
 in the market, caused such a revival in trade, that the 
 merchants began to buy houses and lots, and to set up 
 carriages under the impression that a new era of pros- 
 perity had begun. But eventually Mrs. Dunbar was 
 ready, and the day was fixed. She expressed a preference 
 for Bishop Potts, of Ogden, as the officiating clergyman, 
 because she was used to him, and, of course, Jones asked 
 the worthy Bishop to come over and tie the knots. 
 
 The wedding attracted a good deal of attention in 
 Salt Lake City. Jones sailed up the aisle of the temple 
 with Sapphira and Ethelberta upon each arm, while fifteen 
 of his best friends each convoyed two others of Mrs. 
 Dunbar. The sexton brought up the rear with the ex- 
 widow Baltygag, who honoured the occasion by turning 
 out in a green bonnet with yellow ostrich feathers, a 
 crimson poplin dress embroidered with blue, with a new 
 false front upon her head, and with a look of beaming 
 happiness bursting through her gold spectacles. 
 
 The ceremony occupied but a few moments, and 
 when the Bishop having made these thirty four one flesh, 
 the procession turned, passed down the aisle again, 
 entered the carriages, and went to the home that was 
 once Dunbar's, but now had come into the possession 
 of Jones. 
 
 Dunbar ! how he would have been torn with agony if 
 he, far away upon that lonely island of the sea, could 
 have witnessed that scene in the temple ! But this tor- 
 ture was mercifully spared him. At the moment when 
 his loving wife was given to another by the Bishop, 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 37 
 
 Thompson was splitting oysters open with his jack-knife, 
 and thinking how uncommonly good they would be with 
 horse-radish. No voice whispered the truth to him. 
 No pangs of the^ heart interfered with the vigour of his 
 gastric juice ! 
 
 Of the domestic Hfe which came to Arbutus Jones, 
 with the golden days which followed the wedding, we 
 need not speak. It passed away sweetly and brought 
 him perfect contentment. But one day, a month or two 
 after the marriage, Arbutus, upon his return home, found 
 an elderly lady whom he did not know occupying a seat 
 at his dinner-table. He thought at first it might be one 
 of his wife, so he counted the row of her, and found that 
 there were thirty-four women instead of thirty-three. A 
 moment later Sapphira introduced the stranger as her 
 mother. 
 
 " She has come to stay with us. Arbutus, dear, upon 
 my invitation. I longed to have her with me, and I 
 knew you would welcome her for my sake. Won't you, 
 darling?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly! Glad to see her ! Very glad! Of 
 course. She is always welcome here !" 
 
 But Jones did not look as if he were really glad. A 
 dark foreboding entered his mind. The precedent was 
 bad; it was dangerous. If this kind of thing began, 
 where was it going to stop ? That was the question that 
 he asked himself, with gloom in his soul and a scowl 
 upon his brow. 
 
 Two days later Mary Jane's mother arrived. Mary 
 Jane said that she had invited her mother down to spend 
 the summer, and to give her a chance to learn to 
 
38 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 her son-in-law. Arbutus forced a smile as he welcomed 
 her, but it was not difficult to see that his mother-in-law 
 would have to labour hard to induce him to return her love. 
 . The following week Ethelberta's mother came, osten- 
 sibly for the purpose of superintending an operation 
 upon Ethelberta's cataract. But Arbutus saw plainly 
 through the pretence. He was far too acute a man not 
 to know that a woman who comes for the purpose of wit- 
 nessing an operation upon a cataract is not necessaiily 
 accompanied by six trunks, eleven boxes, a bedstead, two 
 bureaus, a sewing-machine, a cooking- stove, a poll par- 
 rot, and a cat. She had come to stay. He knew it, and 
 he grated his teeth as he strove to bear it patiently. 
 
 A month passed, and at intervals mothers-in-law con- 
 tinued to arrive, until there was a sum total of twenty- 
 one in Jones's house. He began to grow desperate. 
 One day he called the Ballygag^ aside. He asked her if 
 she had a mother. She said she had not. 
 
 Arbutus clasped her in his arms and kissed her 
 tenderly. She was amazed. He had not been lavish of 
 caresses with her. She asked for an explanation. He 
 said — 
 
 " I adore a woman who has lost her parents. Ah, 
 Lucille !" (her name was Lucille), " my only regret now 
 is that you didn't keep an orphan asylum instead of a 
 boarding-school, when Dunbar eloped with your establish- 
 ment." 
 
 As he spoke thus the door-bell rang. Lucille went out 
 to see who was there. When she returned, she said the 
 mothers of Columbia and Emma had just arrived with 
 two waggon-loads of trunks and furniture. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 39 
 
 Arbutus shuddered. 
 
 "This is terrible, Mrs. Bally — Lucille, I mean. If 
 this thing continues I shall go mad. I did not bargain 
 for this. Twenty-three of them already — twenty-three 
 mothers-in-law ! My reason will totter on its throne !" 
 
 " Yes," said the former Mrs. B., " and Henrietta and 
 Sarah and Matilda told me that they had written this 
 morning for their mothers to come on and live here ; and 
 Sarah said she had invited one of her aunts also." 
 
 A spasm of pain flitted over the face of Arbutus Jones. 
 He sat down upon a chair. Was the curse come upon 
 him ? Were the fates preparing for him a scorpion whip 
 of retribution for his destruction of Dunbar's hopes of 
 happiness ? We cannot tell. Maybe we wouldn't tell if 
 we could. 
 
 While he sat there trying to think what he should do 
 to avert the calamity that was overpowering him, a ser- 
 vant entered with a telegram. Jones tore it open and 
 read it. 
 
 " Wh — wh — what's this .' ' My dear son-in-law ■ Meet 
 me at the train on Tuesday. I am coming to board with 
 you for a few months. I am your affectionate mother- 
 in-law.—' Rebecca Fitler.' 
 
 "Rebecca Fitler! Who — what — which one's she?" 
 
 " She is Imogene's mother. I know her well. She's 
 worse about a house than the whooping-cough. Quar- 
 relied with her husband till she killed him," said 
 Lucille. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Jones, fiercely. " Twenty-six 
 mothers-in-law and an aunt ! This is refreshing ! It is 
 delightful ! Lucille, I am beginning to feel murderous ! 
 
40 
 
 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 If this kind of thing goes on I shall soon be in a frame 
 of mind which will make indulgence in assassination 
 seem like pastime." 
 
 " I'm afraid it will go on," said the late Mrs. Bally- 
 gag, looking out of the window ; " I see Geraldine's 
 mother coming up the front yard with a carpet-bag and a 
 band-box. She makes twenty-seven ! " 
 
 " Twenty-seven and an aunt ! " exclaimed Arbutus. 
 " Five more to hear from ! But we can rely upon them 
 to come, I think, can't we, Lucille ? May be I'd better 
 write to them for fear they forget it;" and Arbutus 
 laughed a wild, hysterical laugh. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it ? " asked the late 
 widow B. 
 
 " Do ? What am I going to do ? I am going to do 
 something terrible ! Something desperate ! No man can 
 stand this persecution ! I don't mind having a couple of 
 dozen or so of mothers-in-law around, but the line must 
 be drawn somewhere, and I draw it at twenty-seven and 
 an aunt." 
 
 " You could get rid of them by obtaining a divorce," 
 said Lucille. 
 
 " No ; I shan't do that. It's too expensive. Besides, 
 I don't want to give up the girls." 
 
 " Suppose you order the mothers to leave, and if they 
 refuse force them from the house ? " 
 
 " Won't do," said Arbutus, shaking his head thought- 
 fully. " You don't know them. An army couldn't put 
 them out— an army rigged out with Krupp guns and 
 battering rams. No, no ! We must resort to something 
 more desperate." 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 41 
 
 " How would it do to put poison in their tea ? " 
 
 " I can't see any profit in it. They'll die. I'll have to 
 stand the funeral expenses, and may be pay the cost of 
 i!a& post-mortem examinations." 
 
 " Well, then, blow them up with gunpowder." 
 
 " No, dear ; you must suggest something more practi- 
 cable. The explosion would disfigure the furniture, and it 
 would make old Partridge, the coroner, wild with joy. 
 Lucille, I hate that man with bitter hatred ; and shall I 
 do a thing that will give him thirty or forty inquests, and 
 help him to pay off the mortgage on his house ? Never, 
 my dear, never ! " 
 
 " I don't see how we can manage it, then," said the 
 Ballygag. 
 
 " Let me give you an idea," said Arbutus. " I have 
 in my mind the outlines of a malignant plot, which will 
 rid me of these women for ever. It is an awful thing to 
 do, this that I propose, but the case is desperate ; I am 
 driven to an extremity. Will you promise to help me in 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you know any of Mrs. Brigham Young." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; one of her went to school to me. She was 
 the best girl I had at grammar. She could tell a participle 
 as far as she could see it," 
 
 " Well," said Arbutus, " I want you to go to see her. 
 Tell her I will give her a thousand dollars if she will 
 persuade the Prophet to have a revelation declaring that 
 all my mothers-in-law must be sealed at once to Part, 
 ridge, the coroner ! Will you ? " 
 
 " You must have a very deep grudge against Partridge.' 
 
42 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " I have ! I want him to suffer. Will you go ?" 
 
 " I will ; and I think I can manage the matter for 
 you. How about Sarah's aunt ? " 
 
 " Run her in with the rest ! Make it as hard for 
 Partridge as we can. Give him the whole twenty eight." 
 
 " I'll go around at once," said Lucille, and she left the 
 room. 
 
 A gleam of savage exultation shone from Jones's eyes, 
 as he thought of the probable completeness of his venge- 
 ance. In an hour the Ballygag returned. It was all 
 fixed. She had a promise that the order would be issued 
 the next morning. 
 
 Sure enough, next morning Partridge called, looking 
 livid with rage. 
 
 " Where," said he to Jones, " are these preposterous 
 old hags that you are trying to shove off on me ? Where 
 are they ? Trot 'em out so's I can see 'em." 
 
 " See here, Partridge, I don't want you to speak in 
 that disrespectful manner of my wife's mothers. What 
 do you want to see them for ?" 
 
 " Oh, you needn't pretend you don't know. I'm 
 mighty certain you fixed this thing up against me. But 
 I s'pose I've got to take 'em. So let's see 'em." 
 
 The ladies filed in. -Jones announced the news to 
 them, as gently as he could. Six fainted on the spot. 
 Ten simply screamed. Three said they'd die rather than 
 marry a coroner. Three, and Sarah's aunt, smiled, and 
 said they considered it as, upon the whole, rather a good 
 thing. 
 
 " Well, I don't," replied Partridge. " To speak plainly 
 you're a discouraging-looking crowd. See here, you 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 43 
 
 women who are screaming there, you needn't carry on in 
 that manner. You don't want me any less than I want 
 you!" 
 
 "Partridge," said Jones, "go about it with more 
 suavity. You can't possibly gain their affection if you 
 proceed in that manner. Woo them gently." 
 
 '' I don't want any interference from you," replied 
 Partridge. '' Here, you women ! Get on your things, and 
 come along. I'd commit suicide to get rid of you, 
 if it wasn't that I don't want my successor to collect 
 a fee for my remains. Come on now, and be quick 
 about it." 
 
 Then the bride and groom filed out; Mrs. Jones, 
 meantime, standing in a line in the hall weeping, while 
 Jones kept his handkerchief to his eyes and chuckled. 
 
 When Partridge reached the front gate, he turned 
 around, and, shaking his fist at Jones, he shouted : — 
 
 " You never mind I I'll pay you for this, old fellow ! " 
 
 And then the party proceeded to the temple, and soon 
 was hopelessly bound in the chains of wedlock. 
 
 Upon the departure of his wife's mothers, Jones 
 nibbed his hands, and, in a gleeful mood, danced about 
 the room with the Ballygag. He was joyful. He had 
 reason for joy. But there was a dire and awful retribu- 
 tion preparing for him. The shadow of his doom was 
 slowly creeping toward him. 
 
44 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 Fifteen years had elapsed since Thompson Dunbar 
 tore himself away from his bride, and his happy home. 
 Fifteen years had he dragged out a dreary existence 
 upon his lonely rock in the midst of the sea. One day 
 he saw a ship approaching the island, and he made frantic 
 signals to attract the attention of those on board. Twice 
 the ship seemed to turn away from him, but at last, to 
 his great joy, his signals were answered, a boat was 
 lowered, and in half-an-hour he stood upon the deck of 
 " The Golden Horn," bound for San Francisco. 
 
 The captain gave him a suit of clothes, and loaned him 
 some money ; and as soon as the vessel touched the 
 wharf, a few weeks later, he leaped ashore, and took the 
 first train for Salt Lake City. 
 
 Imagine the alternations of hope and despair that 
 distracted his mind ! Again and again he asked himself 
 how he should find her. Would she be all alive and well, 
 or partially dead ? Would his children be alive ? Would 
 he find his home as beautiful as ever? Would he go 
 there to obtain peace and joy, or to suft'er pangs of 
 terrible sorrow ? 
 
 As he mused, the train entered the city. It was early 
 afternoon. He thought he would go to the hotel and 
 learn something of the truth, before he sought his cottage. 
 It might be less terrible if he should be prepared be- 
 forehand. 
 
 The landlord of the hotel did not recognize him. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 45 
 
 His bronzed and furrowed face, his shaggy hair and 
 beard, his bent form, suggested nothing of the Thomp- 
 son Dunbar who had gone away a decade and a half 
 before, 
 
 Thompson sought information from the landlord. 
 
 " Did you know a man named Thompson Dunbar ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! Knew him well. He left here fifteen 
 or sixteen years ago. He was a sailor, you know." 
 
 " What became of him ? " 
 
 ' Lost, sir, lost ! It's supposed so, at any rate. No 
 word ever came from him, or about him. His ship was 
 wrecked, we know." 
 
 " Was he married ?" 
 
 " Married ! Ah ! that's just it, sir ! He was married 
 to thirty-three of the loveliest girls in the city. A young 
 and charming bride, and a swarm of the dearest children." 
 
 " Did Mrs. Dunbar take it hardly ?" 
 
 -' Indeed she did, sir ! Cried her eyes out, nearly. 
 Went on at a most fearful rate. Everybody sympathized 
 with her." 
 
 " Is she all alive yet ? " 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 "And well?" 
 
 " I believe so ; perfectly. She was the last time I 
 saw her." 
 
 " When did you see her ? " 
 
 '' Well, I haven't seen her myself for several weeks ; 
 but my book-keeper told me he saw three of Mrs. Jones 
 out driving yesterday." 
 
 " I was referring to Mrs. Dunbar," said Thompson. 
 
46 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " I know," replied the landlord ; " I say my clerk saw 
 three of her riding out." 
 
 " But you said he saw Mrs. Jones." 
 
 "Well, don't I say he saw Mrs. Jones ! You seem to 
 be dull of comprehension." 
 
 " Maybe I am ; maybe I am. Only you are talking 
 about Mrs. Jones, and I am talking about Mrs. Dunbar." 
 
 " But, my goodness man ! See here ! Her name was 
 Dunbar when she was Dunbar's wife, wasn't it? And 
 when she married Jones her name was Jones. Do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Married ! is she married ?" 
 
 " Certainly ! of course ! " 
 
 " Married to Jones ! What Jones ? " 
 
 "Why, Arbutus Jones; been married several years.' 
 
 The head of Thompson Dunbar fell upon the table, 
 and he did not even try to keep back the sobs which burst 
 from his overladen heart. Then a thought occurred to 
 him. Looking up he said to the landlord : — 
 
 «' And Jones ? He is dead ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; alive and well, and heartier than ever." 
 
 Thompson Dunbar arose and staggered from the 
 room. He sought the privacy of his chamber, where he 
 could weep tears of passionate grief. 
 
 An hour or two later his mind was made up. His 
 heart was broken, but he would have one long, last 
 lingering look at his darlings and his children before he 
 sought the tomb. 
 
 __ He seized his hat and cane, and walked rapidly 
 toward the house where he used to live. As he came 
 near to it he recognized it as the old place but little 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 47 
 
 changed. How dear it had been to him ! How much he 
 had loved it ! And now another polluted its hearth- 
 stone. Another had whitewashed its fence ! He groaned 
 as he thought of these things. 
 
 There were children playing in the yard. One hand- 
 some boy had run out into the highway after an errant 
 ball. Thompson 'spoke to him. The boy stopped to 
 listen. Thompson recognized the suit he had on. It had 
 been made by a pious maternal hand from Dunbar's own 
 wedding coat. 
 
 Thompson asked the boy to sit upon the grass with 
 him. 
 
 " What is your name, my lad ? " he asked. 
 
 " William T. Dunbar, sir," the boy replied. 
 
 " And where is your father ? " 
 
 "Drowned!" 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I know he is. Mother says so." 
 
 " Have you no other father ? " 
 
 "Yes! old Jones!" 
 
 " Do you love him ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; not when he licks me." 
 
 " He whips you, does he ?" 
 
 " Sometimes ! " 
 
 Dunbar felt his anger growing hot He felt an im- 
 pulse to go in and kiU Jones on the spot ; but he thought 
 better of it. 
 
 " What would you say, my dear boy," he asked, " if I 
 should tell you that your real father is not dead ? " 
 
 " I should say you were a scandalous old story-teller." 
 
 " But I do tell you so ! I am your father !" 
 
48 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 The boy laughed, when he looked thoughtfully at 
 Dunbar and said : — 
 
 " Did you ever read the story about George Washing- 
 ton and his little hatchet ? " 
 
 " Yes, my son." 
 
 " Well, you'd better go home and study up that story. 
 George couldn't tell a lie. There'll never be an anecdote 
 of that kind written about you." 
 
 Thompson heaved a deep sigh. He was about to 
 reason with the lad, when a sharp female voice was heard 
 calling — 
 
 " Billee — ee — ee— ee — ee ! Billee — ee — ee ! * 
 
 " That's me 1 " said the boy. " She's calling me. I 
 must go," and he jumped from the ground. 
 
 " Who is it ? " asked Dunbar. 
 
 " Old Ballygag, we call her," said the boy. "One of 
 pa's wives ! " 
 
 The next moment the head of Ballygag was projected 
 over the fence top, and she saw Thompson. 
 
 " Billy," she exclaimed, " you come into the house 
 this instant! How many times have I told you not to 
 have anything to do with those abominable tramps that 
 come loafing about her^, sneaWing little children away 
 from their parents, and breaking their mother's heart. 
 You'll be kidnapped the first thing you know, or lost 
 like your poor dear father, who went down to the bottom 
 of the Pacific Ocean and was never heard of again, 
 leastways, by any of us who ought to have heard of him 
 if he was alive and well, which he wasn't. Heaven bless 
 his soul ! for how could he be when he was bitten all to 
 pieces by the sharks ? Billy, come right in this minute ; 
 
' Billy, come right in this minute." — Page 48. 
 
JO THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 and you, you old vagabond, move on, and don't come 
 hanging around here looking like a long-haired lunatic, 
 scaring people's children half to death ! Move on, or I'll 
 call the pohce !" 
 
 And the Ballygag grasped Billy, already upon the 
 other side of the fence, boxed his ears a couple of times 
 and led him in bawling. 
 
 Thompson turned sadly away and began to walk to- 
 wards his hotel. A tramp ! And this was a woman he 
 had once called by the endearing name of wife ! Better 
 to have stayed upon his desert island and to have died 
 there miserable and forlorn, than to have come home to 
 such agony and insult as this. 
 
 He determined never to seek his home again unless 
 he should resolve to reveal himself to his wife. But the 
 yearning that he felt was too strong. He could not resist 
 it. When the shadows of evening fell he sought the 
 house again. There were brilliant lights in the windows 
 as he softly crept through the gateway and trod with 
 noiseless footfall upon the gravelled walk. He stepped 
 upon the porch, and hiding behind a shutter he peered 
 through the casement. 
 
 How beautiful that sweet domestic scene! but how 
 horrible for him ! His own dear sitting-room, and yet not 
 his! 
 
 There she was ! Emma, Sapphira, Ethelberta, Hen- 
 rietta, Columbia — all of her. A few of her sat about the 
 centre table knitting. A few of her, were ranged around 
 the wall. Lucille (his own Ballygag) was there making 
 over oiie of Thompson's shirts for Jones ! Everything 
 seemed to conspire to cut him up. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 SI 
 
 There was Arbutus Jones, his old rival, sitting in an 
 arm-chair with smiling face, dandling three infants upon 
 each knee. He was playing with them and with forty-two 
 other children ; and in a corner were seven cradles full of 
 babes, among them two twins and a triplet, which were 
 rocked by a hydraulic engine operated by pellucid water 
 from the sparkling mountain stream. Every now and 
 then one of Mrs. Jones would look up from her work and 
 smile at her husband and at the pranks of the little ones. 
 They were all so peaceful, so happy, so thoughtless of 
 the haggard man who shivered and shuddered out there 
 in the dusky night as with wild eyes he devoured the scene. 
 
 Thompson looked eagerly at the children. In the 
 faces of some he traced his own lineaments, his own 
 noble Roman nose ; in others he saw distinctly the facial 
 outlines of Jones : he saw the nose which turned upward 
 as if perpetually it would sniff the celestial constellations. 
 
 There was a great pain in his heart. He did not know 
 what to do. He was dazed, bewildered. His first impulse 
 was to express his emotion by bursting in the window 
 with a brick. But he repented him of the thought. His 
 wife was happy. It would be most horrible for him to 
 break in upon the even current of her lives and to bring 
 misery to that joyous household. Hecould not bear to do 
 it. What right had he to make Jones's children mother- 
 less, and their father a houseless wanderer ? He would 
 not do so fearful an act. He would go quietly away and 
 .lay him down and die. Death would be welcome to him 
 now. He had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, no 
 joy or happiness any more in this cold and cruel world. 
 
 He returned again to his lodging. That night a 
 
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 iging fever attacked him. For days he was wild with 
 elirium, but at last the fever left him, and he became 
 onscious. His life was fast ebbing away. The physician 
 old him that the end was near. He must finish at once 
 lis connection with the affairs of this world. 
 
 He called for his landlord. 
 
 •' When I am dead," he said, " I want you to have my 
 emains prepared for the tomb, and then I wish you to 
 end for Mrs. Arbutus Jones to come here to look upon 
 ny face." 
 
 " Which of her ? " asked the landlord, sadly. 
 
 " All of her. She loved me once. She will wish to 
 ee me." 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "Thompson Dunbar!" 
 
 And then his tired spirit winged its way into the illimit- 
 tble ether. He was no more. Perhaps he was even less. 
 
 The last message of the unhappy Thompson was con- 
 'eyed to Mrs. Jones ; and she came, in melancholy array, 
 o view all that remained of him who had won the love of 
 ler youth. It was a sad, sad scene at that reunion, 
 rhirty-two fond women in tears, and the late Mrs. Bally- 
 jag haunted by an awful fear that she had slain him by 
 [enouncing him as a tramp, snatching his boy from his 
 irms, and driving him from his home. 
 
 Even Jones was affected. Overcome by the spectacle 
 if his wife's grief, he wandered off disconsolate to the 
 >arroom, and tried to find solace in a variety of mixed . 
 )everages. 
 
 Of course Coroner Partridge came ; his duty was to 
 riew the body. When the shocking story was told him, 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 53 
 
 he laughed. Partridge, a man holding a high and res- 
 ponsible and most solemn public position actually laughed 
 boisterously. Persons thought that his familiarity with 
 woe had robbed him of sensibility ; but that was not it. 
 Partridge had suddenly thought of a terrible scheme of 
 revenge. 
 
 The funeral was held upon the following Tuesday. 
 Mrs. Jones attended in full force, and each of her carried 
 with her a modest tombstone, bearing a tribute to the 
 memory of Thompson Dunbar. They buried him upon 
 the hillside with impressive ceremonies, and then Mrs. 
 Jones planted the thirty-three tombstones upon the grave 
 and watered them with her tears. 
 
 Mrs. Jones returned to her home s'^rrowful, but trying 
 to regard the matter with a spirit of resignation. Thence- 
 forth she would be happy with her children. 
 
 Happy ! The next morning Mr. Partridge called. 
 Mr. Jones and the whole of his wife were at home. After 
 some preliminary and original remarks about the weather, 
 Partridge said — • ^ 
 
 " By the way, Jones, you know my brother Joe ?" 
 
 " The druggist, you mean V 
 
 " Yes, the druggist. I called, ladies, to ascertain what 
 you think of him." 
 
 " We don't know him," the ladies said. 
 
 " And we don't want to know him," Jones added. 
 
 '• Ah, that is indeed unfortunate. I hoped the ladies 
 knew him and admired him," said Partridge. 
 
 " Nobody,'' replied Jones, sarcastically, " admires a man 
 who looks like a clothes-pin stuck in an apple. That isn't 
 our favourite style of man." 
 
54 THOMPSON DUNBAR. 
 
 " How sad !" exclaimed Partridge, calmly. " It would 
 be so much better for all parties if there was some basis 
 upon which to build a genuine affection." 
 
 " Affection ! What in thunder do you mean ?" de- 
 manded Jones, warmly, and rising from his chair. 
 
 " Why,'' said Partridge, " where parties have to live to- 
 gether; love is necessary to happiness.'' 
 
 " Partridge ! " exclaimed Jones, " I don't want to 
 knock out your brains ; you have so little to spare. But 
 I shall be obliged to do so if you keep on. I'll brain 
 you right before Mrs. Jones " 
 
 " Mrs. Jones ! " said Partridge. " What Mrs. Jones ? 
 I don't see any Mrs. Jones about here." 
 
 "No more of this nonsense," said Jones, fiercely. 
 " Quit now, or I'll throw you out of the window.'' 
 
 " When I quit, these ladies go with me," said Part- 
 ridge, waving his hand toward the group. 
 
 " Mr. Partridge, please explain your self," appealed 
 Sapphira 
 
 " Certainly, madam." 
 
 " He'd better, or I'll murder him," said Jones. 
 
 " I suppose, ladies, you consider yourself the wife of 
 this person, Jones ?" 
 
 " Certainly,'' was the unanimous answer. 
 
 "Of course," shouted Jones. 
 
 "Well, you ain't," said Partridge. 
 
 " Why not ?" they asked. 
 
 " You were married to him while Dunbar was alive. 
 The marriage, therefore, was illegal. It was null and 
 void. Consequently, you are now simply Mrs. Dunbar> 
 the widow of the late Thompson Dunbar." 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF 55 
 
 '' Is that all," said Jones, laughing ; " we'll soon 
 remedy that. We will perform the ceremony again this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Oh, no you won't, Mr. Jones," sneered Partridge. 
 " I don't think you will." 
 
 " Why not ? I'd like to know who will prevent me ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Last night, the Prophet Young had a revelation. 
 He was commanded to seal the whole of the widow 
 Dunbar to another man. That man was my brother Joe ! " 
 
 Arbutus Jones uttered a wild exclamation, which can- 
 not be reproduced here without injury to good manners 
 and to the morals of the reader. The thirty-threffwidows 
 fell fainting upon the floor. Partridge sent a servant to 
 call up his carriages. They came. Jones showed some 
 signs of a resistance, but Partridge said : — 
 
 '■Come, now, old fellow, you know it's of no use. 
 This is exactly the way you played it on me, and I took 
 my punishment like a man. You might as well dp the 
 same. Joe 'U make her a better husband than you, any- 
 way." 
 
 Jones perceived the folly of fighting against the 
 Prophet and fate. He kissed his darlings fondly, as they 
 began to resuscitate, and then flying out into the garden, 
 he sought a deep recess among the trees, and cursed Joe 
 and all the Partridges, and the Prophet, and the Church, 
 and Mormondom generally, from Joe Smith down to 
 Brigham, and back again. Then he left his home for 
 ever, envious of the rest that had come to his rival, 
 Dunbar, in the depths of the sepulchre. 
 
5 6 THOMPSON D UNBAR. 
 
 Partridge took the widow down to his brother Joe's, 
 and Joe and he tried to persuade her to accept her fate. 
 She did so, at last, sullenly and reluctaiitly ; but, never- 
 theless, with recognition of the fact that it was a religious 
 duty. She was married to Joseph Partridge, and to his 
 home she came after the ceremony. He tried to make 
 her happy by giving her free run of the gum drops, and 
 liquorice, and jujube paste, and fancy soap, and tooth 
 brushes in the store. But none of these things comforted 
 her, and life became more intolerable for her every day. 
 
 Jones did call one day, when her husband was away 
 on business at Ogden, and proposed to her to elope with 
 him, and join the Gentiles. But none of her were willing 
 to commit such an awful sin, excepting the high-spirited 
 and irrepressible Ballygag ; and Jones, after considering 
 the matter, concluded that the enterprise, in her company, 
 had not those fascinating characteristics which had 
 seemed to him to distinguish it when the idea first oc- 
 curred to him. He bade the whole of IVIrs. Partridge 
 farewell, for ever, and, going out into the wilderness, he 
 foreswore civilization. He joined the Kickapoo Indians, 
 ^nd began practising war-whoops. 
 
 As for Mrs. Partridge, she dwindled and died, one by 
 one, and her husband bought an acre in the cemetery, in 
 which he placed her; and when the last was gone, he 
 went back to his desolate home, to roll pills in agony, 
 and to moisten his salts and senna with his tears 1 
 

 
 
 
 
 ^.^7^ 
 
 %^^^ 
 
 X 
 
 4 
 
 
 ^M 
 
 
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 ^ 
 
 6# 
 
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 p^ 
 
 
 I. 
 
 J N the reading-room of an hotel at Eisenach, 
 Central Germany, Mr. Bartholomew G. 
 Skinner, of Squan, New Jersey, United 
 States of America, sat with his feet upon 
 the edge of a table. 
 Mr. Skinner had acquired a fortune at 
 Squan. He began as the keeper of a summer 
 hotel, and with money earned in this avocation 
 he had engaged in speculations in land upon a large 
 scale. Having bought up vast tracts of " pine barrens " 
 in West Jersey — great stretches of sandy loam, on which 
 grew nothing but stunted pines, scrub oaks, and huckle- 
 berry bushes ; he cleared them, laid out farms and 
 villages, invited immigration, and advertised far and wide 
 over the civilized earth the cheapness of his lands, the 
 fertility of the soil, and the healthfulness of the climate. 
 People came, saw, bought, and took up their residences 
 there ; and so it came to pass that while Mr. Skinner 
 
58 MJi. SKINNER IN THE UNDER WORLD. 
 
 amassed a fortune, thirty or forty thousand persons 
 acquired cheap homes, beautiful towns dotted the former 
 desert, and vines, and peach-trees, and waving grain 
 stood in luxuriant growth where nature had for centuries 
 supplied nothing but vegetation that was useless to 
 man. 
 
 Mr. Skinner was, in a high and noble sense, a bene- 
 factor of his race. The man who turns a great wilderness 
 into a lovely garden as he did, deserves even a richer 
 reward than he counted when he summed up his profits. 
 
 Mr. Skinner was travelling through Europe for enjoy- 
 ment. He was a man who had had little education in 
 his boyhood ; but he had read much, and thought much ; 
 and concerning the practical affairs of life he was fairly 
 well informed. He was a practical man, and he prided 
 himself upon the fact. There was no nonsense about 
 him, and not a great deal of sentiment, excepting that 
 which has a basis of solid common sense. The natural 
 movement of his mind was always toward the bottom 
 facts ; and where a matter was clearly within human ken 
 he never accepted theory, or tradition, or guess work, but 
 proceeded to examine it for himself, in his own way, and 
 to form his own conclusions. 
 
 The contempt entertained by Mr. Skinner for some of 
 the methods, ideas, and superstitions which he encoun- 
 tered during his journeying, could hardly be expressed, 
 and he did not often try. He fully reahzed that every- 
 body's way could not be his way ; that large allowance 
 must be made for differences of condition in which men 
 are brought up, and that only a fool goes through the 
 world condemning aloud everything that does not con- 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 59 
 
 form to his standard. But Mr. Skinner was not a silent 
 man. He liked to talk, and he talked with directness 
 and confidence. He was utterly simple, and without 
 affectation — so much so, that those who had been accus- 
 tomed to stand in awe. of persons, whom Mr. Skinner 
 never hesitated to regard with easy familiarity, mistook 
 for rudeness what was really nothing but absolute un- 
 consciousness that there was any occasion for a mani- 
 festation of reverence. A man of intense simplicity is 
 apt to give great offence to those who are keenly sensitive 
 to the requirements of a very artificial etiquette ; and Mr. 
 Skinner often did so. But he never willingly offended, 
 for a kinder heart than his never beat in a human bosom. 
 
 Mr. Skinner was reading a book as he sat with his 
 feet nearly as high as his head. It was a Traveller's 
 Guide, and the passage that interested him at that 
 moment described the Horselberg, just beyond Eisenach, 
 and told in a very prosy way the wonderful story of 
 Tanhaiiser. 
 
 Mr. Skinner had never encountered that legend before. 
 He read it through twice, first hurriedly, and then more 
 carefully. Then he turned the book over upon the table, 
 rose from his chair, and went to the window. 
 
 He looked out, and there, in, full view, was the very 
 mountain alluded to in the story. Mr. Skinner stood 
 for several minutes gazing at it, with his hands behind 
 his back. He appeared to be considering something. 
 Presently he turned about and rang the bell. When the 
 waiter appeared, Mr. Skinner said to him in English : 
 
 " What mountain is that, over there ? " 
 
 " The Horselberg, sir." 
 
6o IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 " Is that the hill Tanhaiiser went into ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir ; so they say.'' 
 
 " You've read about it, have you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Do you believe that story ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, sir. I think I do. Everybody 
 here believes it." 
 
 " Ever been over there ? " 
 
 " Many a time, sir." 
 
 " To the place where Tanhaiiser got in ? " 
 
 " That's what they say, sir." 
 
 " I want you to take me to that spot." 
 
 " All right, sir ; when ? " 
 
 " Late this afternoon. I want to get there by the 
 shortest known route." 
 
 " Very wqll, sir." 
 
 " You come into this room at seven o'clock precisely, 
 and I'll be ready." 
 
 '' Yes, sir," said the man, as he withdrew. 
 
 As Mr. Skinner walked back to the window to take 
 another look at the mountain, he said to himself : 
 
 " If there's anything in that story I'm going to find it 
 out. If Tanhaiiser could get in, why can't I get in ? And 
 if I do get in, I'll bet a dollar I'll play a better hand than 
 he played, see if I don't ! " 
 
 Then Mr. Skinner sat down by the table and began 
 his eleventh letter to the Barnegat Advertiser, the news- 
 paper through which he conveyed to the people at home 
 his impressions of Europe. 
 
 At seven o'clock Mr. Skinner was in the room equipped 
 for his undertaking. He had a traveller's satchel con- 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 6i 
 
 taining a few articles swung over his shoulder ; he had 
 placed a loaded revolver in his pocket ; upon his arm 
 was a light overcoat, and in his hand he carried an 
 umbrella. 
 
 Presently the servant entered, and ordering him to 
 lead the way, Mr. Skinner started, stopping for a moment 
 as he went out to address a note to the proprietor of the 
 hotel, who was temporarily absent. 
 
 After a long walk, and some rather stiff climbing, the 
 goal was reached. 
 
 " This is the place, is it?" asked Mr. Skinner. 
 
 "Yes, sir!" 
 
 " Humph ! Well, you can go home now,'' said Mr. 
 Skinner, putting a bit of money into the man's hand. 
 
 " Not going back with me, sir 'i " 
 
 " No ; I intend to stay here all night. I'll return in 
 the morning, most likely. You needn't wait ! " 
 
 The man looked at him with mingled amazement and 
 curiosity, but as it was plainly apparent from Mr. Skinner's 
 manner that he was not convulsed by extraordinary emo- 
 tion of any kind, and was neither contemplating suicide, 
 nor likely to be much affected by supernatural manifesta- 
 tions if any should appear, the man turned slowly about 
 and began to retrace his steps. 
 
 It was early twilight, and Mr. Skinner's first act was 
 to take a look at the place. It was upon the mountain's 
 side, a sort of a small plateau, covered with grass and a 
 sparse underbrush. The mountain rose high and black 
 above him, bare and rugged to the top. Trees were 
 thickly clustered upon each side of the plateau, and 
 beneath him in front the ground sloped away somewhat 
 
62 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 precipitously, its sides clothed with verdure, excepting 
 here and there where the rain had washed the earth into 
 gullies, or the stones had slid downward and marked 
 their narrow paths by stripping away the grass. 
 
 Out beyond the base of the mountain he could per- 
 ceive through the gathering dusk the indistinct outlines of 
 the town, with now and then a light shining from a window. 
 
 Mr. Skinner admitted to himself that the loneliness of 
 the place was somewhat oppressive ; but he was in search 
 of truth, and he had hot expected to be quite so comfort- 
 able as he would have been at the hotel. 
 
 It grew darker, and the air became chilly. Mr. 
 Skinner put on his overcoat ; then he threw his umbrella 
 upon the ground, seated himself upon it, and lighted a 
 cigar. Upon the whole it was not disagreeable ; there 
 was a flavour of adventure about it which pleased him. 
 
 As the darkness deepened the lights in the town 
 increased in number, and he even thought he could 
 distinguish his hotel by the glow about the front windows. 
 
 It was a magnificent night. The stars twinkled 
 brightly as he looked up at them, and he felt a good deal 
 of satisfaction in recognizing most of the constellations. 
 Those were the very planets that he used to study from 
 his own front porch at Squan. They had an air of old 
 acquaintanceship which was delightful. He had not seen 
 anything since he left the States that reminded him so 
 strongly of home. It was a little odd to think of those 
 heavenly bodies sweeping over Squan, missing him, and 
 after crossing the continent and the Pacific Ocean find- 
 ing him sitting on his umbrella out here on a wild moun- 
 tain in Germany. 
 
MS. SKINNER 'S NIGHT 63 
 
 The damp earth and the heavy odours of the vege- 
 tation about him brought up pecuhar recollections also. 
 We remember smells longer than anything else in our 
 experience. The Horselberg, on that calm and peaceful 
 night, had the odours that greeted his nostrils on the 
 second night at Gettysburg, when he lay upon the hill- 
 side, in the dusk, with his regiment, too weary of blood 
 and carnage even to think of to-morrow's battle, which 
 would bring death to thousands about him, and woe to 
 other thousands far away from the battle-field. 
 
 And so he mused and smoked, and smoked and 
 mused, as the hours went slowly by. Once or twice he 
 caught himself nodding ; and then he would rise and 
 walk about for a little space to rouse himself. 
 
 At last, however, his thoughts became confused, and 
 he knew no more until suddenly he was conscious of 
 the faint reverberations of a distant town clock. He 
 counted the strokes mechanically, and there were 
 
 TWELVE. 
 
 He had been asleep quite an hour. He was about to 
 get up and walk again, when he heard a noise close to 
 him, very faint, but distinct and musical. In a moment 
 he saw that the turf about about him was lighted by a 
 glow softer and less clear than moonlight ; and he per- 
 ceived that a host of tiny figures capered about amid the 
 grass. 
 
 All of his senses instantly were upon the alert. He 
 pressed his finger-nails strongly against his palm, to be 
 sure that he was not dreaming. No ; he was wide 
 awake— he thought himself sure of that ; and although 
 he felt a most intense curiosity, and he realized that his 
 
64 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 heart was beating with accelerated motion, he was per- 
 fectly cool and fearless. 
 
 Looking steadfastly, he could perceive that the 
 moving creatures were miniature men and women, 
 dressed in fantastic garb. They danced about to and 
 fro, here and there, uttering few sounds and seeming 
 wholly unconscious of the presence of an observer. Mr. 
 Skinner knew that they were elves ; they belonged to the 
 story of Tanhaiiser. 
 
 An hour ago he did not believe in the existence of 
 such beings. Would anybody believe him when he 
 should relate his experiences ? What would the solid, 
 practical common-sense of Squan respond to a story of 
 an actual experience with elves ? He had an instinctive 
 feeling that it would never do to include anything 
 of that kind in his next letter to the Barnegat 
 Advertiser. 
 
 Mr. Skinner sat perfectly still, and watched the pretty 
 creatures making their evolutions. He had half a notion 
 at one time to put out his hand suddenly, and seize a 
 couple of them. There was a fortune waiting for the 
 showman who should offer such an attraction to the 
 people. Tom Thumb and his kind would be nowhere 
 compared with such atoms as these. But he thought 
 better of it. They seemed so innocent and happy that be 
 could not bear to injure one of them. And for money 
 too ! He had enough of that without doing a cowardly 
 action for the sake of it. 
 
 They came nearer and nearer to him, and he could 
 see that they were numbered by tens of thousands. 
 Every blade of grass and every barley-corn of earth 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 
 
 65 
 
 swarmed with them, They danced, and rolled, and 
 kicked, and leaped, and tumbled ; and as. they came 
 to his side and turned somersaults upon the ferule of 
 his umbrella, some of them began to throw their caps 
 into the air. One cap finally fell upon his hand. He did 
 not mean to do it, but, somehow, involuntarily, his fingers 
 
 aSili 
 
 'Involuntarily, his fingers closed upon it." 
 
 closed upon it. In the twinkling of an eye the whole 
 army of elves vanished, the glow faded from the grass, 
 and there was silence and deep darkness. 
 
 "Queer!" muttered Mr. Skinner to himself; ''all 
 gone, every imp of them. Let's see what it is I've got, 
 
 anyhow." 
 
 5 
 
66 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 He struck a match and looked. It was a tiny cap, too 
 small to go upon the end of his finger. 
 
 " Well, thei'e's something like proof if I ever want to 
 tell what I saw ! I'll keep it." 
 
 He never knew precisely whence came the impulse 
 that moved him to do so absurd a thing as to rjemove his 
 hat and to place that little thimble of a cap upon his 
 head ; but he did so, and no sooner had it touched his 
 crown than there was heard a sound of rushing wind and 
 a confuse4 murmur of voices. He felt himself whirled 
 about by some unseen force, and before he could make a 
 movement of resistance, he found himself lying in what 
 appeared to be a dimly-lighted cavern, flat upon his 
 back, with liis umbrella in one hand and his hat in the 
 other. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Not very pleasant," said Mr Skinner, as he sat up and 
 looked around ; " but it's original and mighty inte- 
 resting ! I'd pay a reasonable price to know what it was 
 that picked me up and flung me in here. I didn't 
 see a thing. I'm in for it now, though, sure as you're 
 born." 
 
 Mr. Skinner got upon his feet, and after feeling his 
 revolver, to ascertain if it was handy for use, he examined 
 the cavern. It had rocky walls, absolutely bare, unless 
 where stalactites here and there hung from the roof. 
 Straight before him it opened through a narrow way into 
 a space beyond, of which he could see little, excepting 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NICaT 67 
 
 that far, far in the distance he discerned what appeared 
 to be a mere point of very brilliant light. 
 
 Hardly had he gotten upright than the walls of the 
 cavern rang suddenly with a chorus of wild, shrieking 
 laughter. 
 
 Slightly startled by this fiendish noise, he. looked and 
 saw coming toward him swiftly what looked something 
 like a squall of snow. Before he could think about it, 
 he was enveloped by a crowd of figures of misty 
 whiteness, which swept round and about him with 
 amazing velocity. 
 
 It was a moment or two before he could realize 
 precisely what was the matter; but he soon began 
 to mark the outlines of hideous forms, which grinned 
 at him in a horrible fashion and seemed to menace 
 him. 
 
 " Ghosts ! or my name is not Skinner ! Well, I never 
 thought Id strike anything like this ! " 
 
 The whirlwind of shadows encircled him with accele- 
 rated speed, and as they came closer and closer to him, 
 the demoniacal yells became more fierce and terrible. 
 Mr. Skinner was surprised at his own calmness. Leaning 
 upon his umbrella, he observed the performance with 
 rather a critical air, and after a brief interval of silence 
 he remarked, without being certain that he was ad- 
 dressing anyone in particular : 
 
 " It's of no use. You can't scare me with any of your 
 whooping and howling. I can stand thjs sort of thing 
 ^s long a^ you can. I'm nc^f ope of the hysterical 
 kin4." 
 
 Still the spectral storm raged wildly about him, ^nd 
 
68 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 still the cavern echoed the voices that came out of the 
 tempest. 
 
 " Oh well ! " said Mr. Skinner, at last, sitting quietly 
 down and crossing one leg over the other, " if it makes 
 you feel better to waltz around that way, just go on ! I 
 can wait ! Only I'm going to explore this den, if I have 
 to stay here a week to do it ! " 
 
 Suddenly, as he spoke, the ghostly crowd left him and 
 flew shrieking down the passage whence it came. ( 'ne 
 figure alone stood before Mr. Skinner. It looked some- 
 what like an old man, with long hair and beard, and with 
 a face of majestic sternness. 
 
 Mr. Skinner saw the form so vividly, that he at first 
 thought it to be a real human being ; but when it stood 
 between him and the passage-way, and he perceived that 
 he could see the distant light right through the old man's 
 mantle, he comprehended that he had a genuine ghost to 
 deal with. 
 
 " Unhappy man," said the spectre, " why did you dare 
 to penetrate to this secret chamber ? " 
 
 " Well, in the first place, I'm a free and independent 
 American citizen, travelling upon a passport signed by 
 the Secretary of State, and I've got a right to go where 
 anybody else goes ; and, in the second place, I was 
 pitched in here, head over heels, without my consent, by 
 some of your people " 
 
 " Are you not afraid to stand in the presence of the 
 awful spirits of the dead .' " 
 
 " No, I'm n6t ! Certainly not ! You. can't frighten 
 me ? What are you, anyhow ? You're nothing but a 
 little bit of vapour, or carbonic acid gas, or something. 
 
" I am not afraid of anything I can poke my umbrella through, 
 like that." — Page 70. 
 
70 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 If there was a chimney here and a strong draught, you'd 
 be sucked up the flue. You couldn't help yourself. 
 Afraid ! I'm not afraid of anything I can poke my um- 
 brella through, like that, and that ! " and Mr. Skinner 
 stirred about with his umbrella in the middle of the 
 spectre. 
 
 " You are very audacious ; but you will never escape 
 from here," said the ghost, solemnly ; " never, never ! " 
 
 " I won't ? We'll see about that. I've left my direc- 
 tion with the United States' consul, down at the town 
 below here, and if I'm not back again within a specified 
 time, he'll be up here and blow your old mountain to 
 flinders ! You don't seem to be acquainted with the 
 party you have to deal with." 
 
 " It is strange," said the spectre, with the faintest 
 suggestion of embarrassment in its hollow tones, " we 
 are not used to being regarded with such calmness by 
 mere mortals." 
 
 '' I know it ! " answered Mr. Skinner ; " I know it. 
 People generally are frightened into fits when they think 
 they see a ghost ; but I made up my mind long ago that 
 if I ever met one I was going to investigate him. S'pose 
 we sit down here and have a little talk .' '' 
 
 The spectre did not move ; but it struck Mr. Skinner 
 that he detected upon the misty countenance some evi- 
 dence that the ghost felt that it was hardly holding its 
 own. Mr. Skinner had the advantage, and he knew it. 
 
 " I want to ask you now, for example," said Mr. 
 Skinner, sitting and locking his fingers over his knee, 
 "how it feels to be a disembodied spirit ? Never hungry, 
 are you ? " 
 
MR. SKINNEKS NIGHT 
 
 71 
 
 The ghost slowly shook its head. 
 
 " Costs you nothing for food ; do^'t have to buy any 
 clothes ; no aches or pains, or anything of that kind ? " 
 
 The spectre still nodded negatively. 
 
 " I thought not," said Mr. Skinner, " and nothing spent 
 for travelling expenses either. I reckon, now, if you 
 wanted to take a fly over to America you could get there 
 in a jiffy : crawl through a keyhole when you felt like it 
 too, I've no doubt ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the ghost. 
 
 " It's mighty singular," said Mr. Skinner, reflectively. 
 "I've felt, that way myself at times, in dreams. It must 
 be rather agreeable, upon the whole. No taxes and no 
 work to do. But, say, what's the fact about your fellows 
 haunting houses and graveyards ? Ever do anything of 
 that kind?" 
 
 " Sometimes.'' 
 
 " I wouldn't have believed it two hours ago. But 
 what's the sense of it .-' What's the use of scaring people 
 with that kind of foolishness ? Why don't you keep off 
 and behave 1 " 
 
 "You could not understand it if I were to tell 
 you." 
 
 "I'd like to have a chance to try, anyway. But, no 
 matter, let that pass. I wish you'd tell me, though, 
 what's going on in here. Whose place is it ? " 
 
 " These are the realms of Venus. You shall see 
 them ; I will lead you ." 
 
 " Will you ! That's clever ! I'm glad I met you ! " 
 and Mr. Skinner attempted to- pat his companion on the 
 back, but his hand went through the figure. 
 
72 m rim under-woalu. 
 
 " How soon will you be ready to start ? " asked Mr 
 Skinner. 
 , " Now 1 " 
 
 "All right ! But wait a minute ! No objection to my 
 smoking, I suppose ? " said Mr. Skinner, lighting a match. 
 " Maybe you'll have a cigar ? Oh ! excuse me ; I forgot. 
 Of course you don't care for such things .-' Now," said 
 he, shouldering his umbrella, " if you'll push ahead I'll 
 follow." 
 
 " I will go ! " said the spectre. 
 
 " One moment ! As we are going to travel together I 
 think I ought to — that is, I, — beg pardon, but have you a 
 name.?" 
 
 "I am the Erl-Klng! One of the poets, Goethe, 
 wrote of me. You have read it, perhaps." 
 
 " What ! you don't say ! Yes, sir, that poem is in 
 every ' Speaker ' in our school district. You ran off with 
 a child. I tell you what, old man, it wouldn't do to try 
 any of those kidnapping pranks in our country ; the 
 people wouldn't put up with them. Where is the little 
 one ? " 
 
 " In the court chamber. You shall see.'* 
 
 The journey began. The pair entered the narrow 
 passage way, and Mr. Skinner, whose powers of observa- 
 tion were in full play, noted that the walls were cut so 
 smoothly that not a crevice or scratch could be seen upon 
 them. 
 
 "That's a mighty nice piece of work," he said, rubbing 
 his hand upon the wall. " How did you cut that ? With 
 hand tools or atmospheric drills ? " 
 
 " It was not done by mortal hands ! " said the shade. 
 
MR. SJCINNER'S NIGHT 73 
 
 " No?" exclaimed Mr. Skinner, as the pair proceeded 
 upon their journey. " And this too ! '' he said, as they 
 emerged into a long gallery higher and wider than the 
 passage way leading to it. " This beats any rock-cutting 
 I have seen yet. I say, if anybody ever wanted to run a 
 railroad tunnel through this mountain would your folks 
 consider a proposition for a right of way ? " 
 
 The ghost slowly shook its head. 
 
 " It's a pity, too," said Skinner, sadly, " for it don t 
 seem right to have work like that wasted." 
 
 " It's not wasted," said the goblin. 
 
 " Well, of course, each of us looks at it differently. 
 That's only natural. Now, it strikes me that to bore a 
 magnificent hole through a mountain for nothing else 
 than for a parcel of goblins to prowl about in, is a sinful 
 waste of effort. However, it's none of my business." 
 
 As he spoke there was heard a faint sound of the 
 crowing of a cock. _ 
 
 " Halloa ! What's that ? Sounds like a rooster ? " 
 
 " It is a cock crowing outside of us, upon the hill- 
 top." 
 
 " Outside, eh ? I thought, at first, maybe you kept 
 chickens, and it struck me as kind of singular. I couldn't 
 imagine what a ghost wanted with poultry." 
 
 A few steps further on the pair came to the edge of a 
 precipice, and Mr. Skinner could see, beneath, a black, 
 rolling stream from which clouds of light vapour ascended ; 
 while upon the other side, perhaps a hundred feet distant, 
 the rocks rose sheer and ragged to the level of the height 
 upon which he stood.' 
 
 Across the chasm was a sort of bridge, not wider than 
 
74 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 a hand's breadth, and having nothing but the naked 
 footway to support the traveller who should try to cross 
 it. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Mr. Skinner. 
 
 " This," said the spectre, " is a river of boiling pitch, 
 which must be passed by every mortal who penetrates to 
 these realms." 
 
 "How do visitors get across.'"' 
 
 " Upon this bridge. Some do not succeed. Dare 
 you venture it ? " 
 
 " I think I shall. Is it the custom to walk over?" 
 
 "It is," said the goblin, with what seemed to be a 
 look of fiendish exultation upon its misty countenance. 
 
 "Humph!" remarked Mr. Skinner. "Nobody can 
 account for the foolishness that there is in the world. 
 Now, my way of getting over is different. Hold my 
 umbrella a moment ; won't you ? " 
 
 As the goblin could not comply with this request, Mr. 
 Skinner put the umbrella under the top of his satchel. 
 Then he got down and sat astride of the bridge, and 
 aided by his hands he made a series of small jumps which 
 brought him safely to the other side in a few moments. 
 
 The goblin was there to meet him, and Mr. Skinner 
 noticed that it had an air of severe disappointment. 
 When he got upon his feet he said : 
 
 " That is the poorest contrivance for crossing a stream 
 that I ever saw. Why don't you rig up something 
 better?" 
 
 " We are contented with it ! " said the ghost, 
 gloomily. 
 
 " I'll tell you," remarked Mr. Skinner, producing a 
 
' He made a series of small jumps."— /"(^e 74- 
 
76 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 pencil, and making a calculation upon the back of an 
 old letter which he tished from his pocket. " I know a 
 man in my country who 11 run you an iron truss bridge 
 over that chasm for twenty-four hundred dollars, and 
 keep it painted for ten years. Something substantial and 
 safe. If you say so I'll write to him ?" 
 
 The goblin, with a mournful look, shook its head. 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Skinner, "it's your concern 
 and not mine. But, I'll tell you, if money was any object 
 with you there are people who'd give a handsome bonus 
 for the privilege of boring for oil right around here. I 
 know, old man, from what I've seen in Pennsylvania, that 
 there is petroleum where that pitch comes from. Do 
 you care to speculate in the matter ? No ? Oh, very 
 well, I thought it might be friendly to mention it." 
 
 As the shade of the Erl-king moved forward, with Mr, 
 Skinner following, the character of the gallery underwent 
 a change. The walls were separated by larger distances, 
 and the vault above them rose to a greater height. The 
 rocks, instead of showing their nakedness, began to dis- 
 play lavish adornment. Sometimes they were covered 
 with masses of trailing vines which hung from them in 
 graceful festoons ; sometimes great bunches of beautiful 
 ferns were clustered upon the walls, their long and 
 feathery branches sweeping downward to the floor. At 
 brief intervals the verdure gave place to a mosaic work 
 of splendid jewels.p Mr. Skinner was amazed to find 
 hundreds of square feet of the walls glistening with 
 diamonds, emeralds, rubies, amethysts, and other precious 
 stones, of enormous size, and cut with the most exquisite 
 skill. 
 
AJU. SA'fNNEJi'S NIGHT 77 
 
 The sun did not shine upon them, and there was no 
 artificial light that he could discover ; and yet the mass 
 of jewels flooded the vast chamber with a radiance that 
 dazzled his eyes. It was the most glorious vision that 
 he had ever encountered. It surpassed in the richness 
 of its colouring and the sp endour of its wealth everything 
 that he had ever read of in the Arabian Nights, or 
 dreamed of as he pored over the wildest fairy tales. He 
 trod upon a pavement encrusted with stones, each one of 
 which would have enriched an empire, and he saw about 
 and above him walls inlaid with such superb art as no 
 jeweller of mortal clay could hope to rival. 
 
 His guide would have hurried on, but Mr. Skinner 
 wanted to tarry a while and enjoy the spectacle. It is 
 not every day, he thought, that a plain man has a chance 
 to study such a scene. This alone, he said to himself, 
 was worth all the trouble he had taken, and all the danger 
 he had encountered. A description of the chamber, in a 
 letter to the Barnegat Advertiser, would fill New Jersey 
 with excitement ; and, before the year was out, the Erl- 
 king's goblin would have half a thousand Jerseymen 
 knocking at his door and wanting to come in. 
 
 "Ah ! " said Mr. Skinner to his guide, '' I know now 
 why you do not want visitors. I understand why you 
 would like them to tumble off of that bridge. You've got 
 miUions and millions of dollars invested there." 
 
 " This is nothing ; they are baubles," said the ghost. 
 
 " What ! Oh, well, of course they're not of much use 
 to you. But I think I could get some practical good out 
 of half a bushel, or so. That diamond there, for example, 
 would supply half the women in my State with breast- 
 
78 IN THE UNDER-V/ORLD. 
 
 pins, and make them perfectly happy. Are you handing 
 any of these around — among your friends, I mean ? " 
 
 The ghost made no sign of affirmation, and Mr. 
 Skinner added, as he gave a final look at the display, 
 " No matter. I don't covet them. Only, I thought it 
 would be nice to take one or two along, to remember 
 you by." 
 
 " You will not find it easy to forget me, in the place 
 to which you are going," answered the Erl-king, with 
 what might have passed for a sneer. " See ! " and the 
 spectre waved its shadowy hand. 
 
 Mr. Skinner turned and looked. Before him, at the 
 foot of a gentle slope, lay a scene of weird and wonderful 
 beauty. He saw a vast garden stretching away in front 
 of him, and to the right and the left, towards boundaries 
 which, somehow, were so indistinctly defined that he 
 could not surely say what were the dimensions of the 
 place, or its proportions. It had not the wildness of 
 undisturbed Nature, but still less did it appear with the 
 symmetry of human art. The beautiful confusion into 
 which the untrained earth flings the forms that spring 
 from her bosom, was not there. Some hand had prepared 
 the outlines of the garden, but upon a scheme such as 
 no mortal man could have devised. There were grace 
 and beauty, but these were evolved from an order which 
 was elfish in its eccentricity, and which appeared even 
 wilder than chance itself. 
 
 There were myriads of walks twisting and writhing 
 into strangest shapes, beginning nowhere and leading no 
 whither; and these ran in and out among fantastic 
 groupings of shrubbery, which expressed no definite 
 
MS. SKINNER'S NIGHT 79 
 
 notions of forms, but conveyed suggestions of a purpose 
 to fill the mind of the observer with a sense of the un- 
 canny. 
 
 The trees were covered with foliage which had a 
 greenness not precisely that of the outer world, but so 
 differing from it that one could not tell precisely wherein 
 the difference lay. The sward, of the same strange hue, 
 was covered with flowers of novel and peculiar shapes, 
 and glowing with colours that had no counterpart in 
 nature. Here and there cataracts fell from eminences 
 upon the plain, but the water, as it tumbled, was governed 
 by some force which turned it into queer figures, so that 
 one might imagine it to possess life and volition of its 
 own. 
 
 After its descent, it ran away through tortuous chan- 
 nels among the grasses, bubbling, and leaping, and play- 
 ing fantastic tricks, as no earthly water could have done. 
 The fountains, that burst upward from the plain at various 
 points, also dashed and flashed in obedience to some law 
 which was excepted from the code of nature. 
 
 A flood of strong and penetrating light poured over 
 the whole garden ; but there was no sunshine, no distinct 
 radiance of any kind. The shadows merged into .the 
 light imperceptibly, and the waters gave back but a faint 
 reflection to the source of their illumination. The leaves 
 danced and fluttered, and the surface of the streams 
 were lightly ruffled, but there was no breeze ; the birds 
 flew about upon odd courses from bush to tree ; and they 
 seemed to sing ; but no note of their music fell upon the 
 ear. The cataracts tumbled in silence ; no sound of 
 falling waters came from the fountains. 
 
8o IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 There was splendour and beauty, but over it all was 
 the hush of death. It was a place that might have been 
 made a home for joy. but it was joyless and horrible. 
 There was life, movement, activity ; but only such ani- 
 mation as that which stirs within the realms of dreamland 
 — mysterious, noiseless, and unreal. 
 
 As Mr. Skinner looked down upon the scene he 
 realized these things, and, perhaps, for a moment, he 
 had a sense of oppression, as though he were in a night- 
 mare. But he readily freedhimself from this feeling, and 
 his curiosity was strongly excited as he noted several 
 figures, apparently of human beings, passing slowly 
 to and fro, in attitudes of dejection, along the avenues 
 of the garden. 
 
 " Who are those people .' " he asked of his guide. 
 
 " Those are mortal men who have come here as you 
 have come, and whose fate it is to linger here for ever." 
 
 " Why don't they quit, and go home ? " 
 
 '' Only two of all who have entered this realm have 
 gone away, and they returned when they were summoned. 
 That is the doom of all ; to tarry or to return." 
 
 " Who were the two ? " 
 
 " Tanhaiiser and Thomas of Erceldoune.'' 
 
 " Are they down there now ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, if you don't mind, I'll get you to introduce me. 
 I would like to know one of them." 
 
 They walked down the declivity and into the garden. 
 Mr. Skinner examined everything carefully. 
 
 " Land like that," he Said, pointing to a grassy tract 
 which stretched away to the left, " would bring forty 
 
MS. SKINNER'S NIGHT 8 1 
 
 dollars an acre in West Jersey. I know a man who gave 
 that price for some not quite so good." 
 
 The ghost made no reply. 
 
 " I don't see," continued Mr Skinner, " that you do 
 much with the property. Now, there's a field I know 
 would be first-rate for watermelons or sweet potatoes ; a 
 light, sandy soil, but rich and easily ploughed. If I were 
 you I'd put at least an acre in melons and another in 
 tomatoes and Uma beans ; but then, of course,'' said Mt. 
 Skinner, suddenly remembering the unsubstantial nature 
 of his companion, " you don't care as much for such 
 things as I do. It's a pity, though, so much territory 
 going unimproved. It would be far better for those 
 people there if they had a regular job of spading and 
 hosing to do every day." 
 
 They walked on as he spoke, and as they passed a 
 tree that was filled with fruit Mr. Skinner plucked from 
 the branches something that looked like an apple. 
 When he bit it, he found that it was but a mass of 
 dust. 
 
 " h decent cider apple-tree would be a blessing in 
 such a place as this," he said. 
 
 " This," said the goblin, pausing near to one of the 
 wanderers in the garden, " is Thomas of Erceldoune." 
 
 The man turned as his name was uttered, and Mr. 
 Skinner went up, with some vivacity of manner, seized 
 his hand and shook it. 
 
 " Glad to know you ! I've met nobody since I came in 
 here but my ghostly friend and some others like him, and 
 it's a satisfaction to meet a genuine man." 
 
 ' Alas ! " said Thomas, sadly, " is still another victim 
 6 
 
82 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 added to those who have come here to find endless 
 misery ! " 
 
 " You don't take exactly the right view of it,"_said Mr. 
 Skinner, cheerily, " I am not a victim. Not a bit of it." 
 
 Mr. Skinner felt a deep pity in his heart for this 
 wretched man. He could not determine clearly whether 
 Thomas of Erceldoune was young or old. He looked as 
 if he might not have lived more than three decades, and 
 yet there was something about him that suggested 
 vigorous manhood which had been suddenly stopped in 
 its development and kept for untold years precisely at the 
 point at which it was when its forces were petrified. The 
 air of sadness that he wore was the visible sign of 
 despair. From this man's soul hope had flown for ever 
 and for ever. 
 
 " How long have you been here ? " asked Mr. 
 Skinner. 
 
 " I do not know. Sometimes I think but a day ; at 
 others I seem to have dwelt here for a thousand years. 
 It was in the fifteenth century that I left my earthly home 
 for the last time." 
 
 "You don't say? Why, that's nearly four hundred 
 years ! " 
 
 " Yes ; it must be so long." 
 
 " How did you get here ? " 
 
 "I came first to gratify my curiosity. Then I was 
 permitted to go back to my home. But I knew that they 
 would summon me ; I knew it ! And one day while I 
 made merry at a feast with my friends, one came to tel) 
 me that a hart and a hind were coming up the highway to 
 ray door. No one but myself perceived that my time had 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 
 
 83 
 
 come. But I was conscious of the meaning of the visit 
 of those strange messengers, so I arose and followed them 
 away, away, blinded by my tears and my misery, until 
 they lead me here." 
 
 " Do you know what I would have done if I had been 
 you ? " asked Mr. Skmner. 
 
 " See here, old fellow, cheer up." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why, well, instead of quitting home I would have 
 had vension for supper " 
 
 " That is a strange thing to hear in this place ! " 
 
 " I know, but I mean it ! See here, old fellow, cheer 
 
84 IN THE UNDER- WORLD. 
 
 up ! You're mistaken if you think I am going to stay in 
 here. Indeed I'm not. And if you will come along with 
 me, and stick to me, I'll run you out when I go. I don't 
 know exactly how, but I'll do it if I say so \ " 
 
 " It cannot be ! " 
 
 " Oh, come now, that is nonsense ! If I get you off you 
 can go over the ocean with me. I'll settle you on a little 
 place somewhere in Atlantic County, make you snug and 
 comfortable, and you can start fresh in life. Is it a 
 bargain ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " I don't know that you care much for politics ; but if 
 you come with me to Jersey, and you're in want of money, 
 I could arrange, maybe, to have you run for something — 
 the Legislature, or some other paying office, enough to 
 make you easy. Let me see ; are you an Irishman .' " 
 
 " I am from Scotland." 
 
 "Scotch, hey? Well, that is unfortunate! You'd 
 have a much better chance in my country if you were 
 Irish. We Americans think we rule ourselves ; but we 
 don't. The Irish govern us ! But I'll do the best I can 
 for you, so get together your things and come along." 
 
 But Thomas of Erceldoune did not answer. He hung 
 his head, and turning about slowly walked away. 
 
 " Won't come, eh ? " said Skinner. 
 
 The retreating figure shook its head slowly and 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Young man," called Mr. Skinner, " you may never 
 have another chance like this. It's the wildest nonsense 
 to reject it You come along with me and we'll stir up 
 this den of goblins so that they'll be glad to get rid of us 
 
MH. Sf:iNNER'S NIGHT 85 
 
 at any price. I'll take you under the protection of the 
 American flag, and we'll see whether anybody will dare to 
 hold us ! Won't go ? Well, it's too bad ! too bad ! " 
 and Mr. Skinner looked after the unhappy man, and 
 watched him until he disappeared behind the shrubbery. 
 
 " No, he will not go,'' said the goblin. " He knows 
 better than yoih do the awful power that holds you both 
 in thrall." 
 
 " Not both, old gentleman. I see you are still delud- 
 ing your cloudy noddle with the idea that I am going to 
 stay." 
 
 "You will stay," answered the goblin, "and, as it did 
 to Thomas of Erceldoune, so a hundred years will seem 
 to you but a swiftly passing day.'' 
 
 " Ah, my venerable friend," replied Mr. Skinner, " you 
 can't play that upon me. I have an American lever 
 watch and a pocket calendar for the current year. 
 There'll be no time rolling by without my knowing it." 
 
 " We shall see," answered the ghost, with an air of 
 not feeling quite so certain about it as he had done 
 before. 
 
 " And, meanwhile," said Mr. Skinner, " s'pose we 
 push on and complete this exploration. I want to see 
 the end of the journey." 
 
 III. 
 
 The spirit of the Erl-king made no reply, but drifting 
 slowly across the garden it entered the portal of what 
 seemed to be a vast building of some kind, though so 
 
86 IN THE UNDER WORLD. 
 
 puzzling and uncertain were its outlines, and so indistinct 
 the light that shone about the place, that Mr. Skinner 
 could not by most careful scrutiny determine if it was 
 really a structure, or a wall of the solid rock hewn into 
 symmetrical shape. 
 
 His followed his guide through the doorway, along a 
 wide hall which rang beneath his footsteps, and thence 
 through another wide portal into a long chamber of such 
 height as he could not clearly discern. A table stretched 
 from one end of the room to the other, and gathered about 
 it was a great host of figures, whose greyish whiteness 
 could be perceived without difficulty through the dusky 
 atmosphere. 
 
 "This," said the goblin, "is the Hall of Heroes. 
 Here are gathered the immortal parts of men whose 
 deeds upon earth have made their fame eternal." 
 
 " Soldiers, 1 reckon," said Mr. Skinner. " Who are 
 they?" 
 
 " There," replied the ghost, " sits Arthur, and about 
 him are gathered the glorious Knights of the Round 
 Table. All are there, the true and the false together. 
 There is Charlemagne with his warriors, his crown upon 
 his head, his good sword by his side. Near to him Red 
 Bearded Frederick sits with his six knights. Thrice 
 his beard enwraps the stony table in front of him, and 
 thrice more still must it unfold it." 
 
 "Why don't he shave?" asked Mr. Skinner, 
 calmly 
 
 " Here," said the spectre, not deigning to reply, "the 
 three great Tells join with the throng. The legend is 
 that they sleep a mortal sleep within the mountain. 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 87 
 
 But their eyes of sense will never more unclose. And 
 with them are the shades of valiant men of all degrees, 
 a company of the mighty and the heroic." 
 
 "What are they at.?" asked Mr. Skinner. 
 
 " It is a festival. They sit here, shadows of their 
 ancient selves, but with souls that feel the impulse of the 
 former fires, to hold revel and to recount the deeds of the 
 wondrous past." 
 
 ''A kind of a dinner party," suggested Mr. Skinner. 
 " I'd like to join them. I don't see anything to eat ; but 
 I s'pose I am safe to get a spectral steak or a goblin 
 chop, and that's good enough when a man is not 
 hungry." 
 
 " Beware how you thrust yourself upon these awful 
 shades ! " said the Erl king. " They will not brook levity 
 or familiarity." 
 
 " I guess I wiU sit at the table and look on, anyhow." 
 And Mr. Skinner, advancing, took a seat tolerably close 
 to one of the ghosts, and, assuming an easy attitude, 
 observed them. 
 
 There was a murmur of voices among them, but of 
 voices such as no tongue ever shaped into words. And 
 ever and anon the warriors, who seemed clad cap-k pie in 
 ghostly armour, moved as if to raise beakers to their lips, 
 and to drain them to the dregs. Nobody appeared to 
 notice Mr. Skinner's presence; but after a while that 
 gentleman began to display signs of uneasiness, and, pre- 
 sently rising, clearing his throat, and looking calmly 
 around, he said, as if he were addressing an ordinary 
 meeting of mortals :— ' 
 
 " Gentlemen, your chairman has not called upon 
 
88 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 me to respond to any sentiment, possibly because he's 
 not familiar with the modern custom upon festive occa- 
 sions, or perhaps because, not knowing me, he may have 
 persuaded himself that I would feel some diffidence in 
 addressing such a company. I do not wish to obtrude 
 my opinions upon you ; but since my entrance to these 
 regions, I have acquired the conviction that it would be 
 an act of philanthropy for an intelligent outsider like 
 myself to make an effort to freshen up your views a little. 
 I intend, therefore, to offer a few remarks, which I trust 
 will be received in the spirit of friendliness which moves 
 me to present them. 
 
 " Of course, gentlemen, my notions of things must 
 inevitably differ widely from yours. You were dead and 
 buried hundreds of years ago, and your sympathies are 
 largely with a past that was wholly ignorant of matters 
 of high importance with which I am perfectly familiar ; 
 and I have the additional advantage of still possessing a 
 physical body, and net being compelled to stay under- 
 ground all day, and to go out only at night, and even 
 then presenting the appearance of having been sliced out 
 of a fog-bank." 
 
 Here the Erl-king cautioned Mr. Skinner not to go on. 
 But he continued : 
 
 " Without going deeply into the work of contrasting 
 the methods of your time with the methods of mine, I 
 may be permitted to remark upon the oddity of the cir- 
 cumstance that while individual soldiers of your age 
 encased themselves with iron stove-plates and helmets, 
 the vaporous semblance of which* you now wear, we have 
 adapted such means of protection only to ships, with the 
 
MR. SR-INNER 'S NIGHT 89 
 
 result that the chief purpose of the existence of a portion 
 of mankind just now is to make ships that no existing 
 gun can penetrate, and when that is done, to invent a 
 gun that can sink that ship. 
 
 " The point of interest is that men are still as busy 
 killing each other as they were when you were around ; 
 and that while we are proud to pity the ignorance and 
 folly which characterized you when you spent your lives 
 in fighting, we have not become so wise as to perceive 
 that to settle a quarrel by shooting men with a revolving 
 cannon is not any more sensible than to chop them up 
 with axes and to brain them with clubs, as you folks used 
 to do." 
 
 The Erl-king hinted to Mr. Skinner that he was 
 touching a delicate subject ; but the speaker pro- 
 ceeded : — 
 
 " However, the matter to which I wished principally 
 to allude interests you more directly. I say, franklj', that 
 until I dropped in here, I never had any solid faith in the 
 reality of ghosts. I regarded the whole thing as a mass 
 of superstition. I see now that I was wrong. But having 
 confessed this much, I think I ought to say to you, who 
 probably have some influence over the affairs of your kind, 
 that the sooner some one of you starts an energetic reform 
 movement in the ghost business, the better will be the 
 result. Gentlemen, I am a practical man— a utilitarian, 
 if you will ; and I must say that it grieves me, when I 
 look around upon this grave and dignified company, to 
 think of the ridiculous character of the methods in which 
 you manifest yourselves to manki/id. If I were a goblin, 
 and I retained a particle of my self-respect, I would keep 
 
90 
 
 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 away from graveyards at night ; I would refrain from 
 haunting houses, and prowling about, making noises to 
 scare timid women and children ; I would refuse to come 
 out at so-called spiritual seances and thrum diabolical 
 music upon cracked guitars, and tilt tables at the bidding 
 of long-haired and wild-eyed mediums. If a ghost who 
 has been respectable in life cannot put in his spare time 
 in the outer world in better ways than these, my advice to 
 him is to stay in the bowels of the earth right along, and 
 to let honest people alone." 
 
 The Erl king mentioned to Mr. Skinner that they 
 must move on at once. But Mr. Skinner said that he 
 would close in a moment. 
 
 " Apart from the silliness of such proceedings, gentle- 
 men, they are disgustingly useless. Now, if I were a 
 ghost I would use my powers to reveal to living men 
 truths that would be of service to them^such as know- 
 ledge of the spiritual state, and information, perhaps,, as 
 to the location of veins of coal, of the metals, and so 
 forth ; or, if these things were forbidden, I would rent 
 myself out for exhibition for the benefit of good objects of 
 various kinds. A genuine ghost, for example, could 
 always find employment when Hamlet or Macbeth is 
 performed at the theatres ; and if you can flit about with 
 the rapidity commonly attributed to you, some of you 
 might earn good wages carrying messages for persons to 
 places which the telegraph does not reach." 
 
 The Erl-king said that there would be danger in speak- 
 ing further ; but Mr. Skinner added : 
 
 " One word more. You hold in wicked bondage down 
 here in the garden a lot of people who have a right to 
 
MR. SK-INNER'S mCHT 
 
 9» 
 
 their liberty. Now, what good it does you, or the head 
 person who governs this place, to practise cruelty of that 
 kind, I can't imagine. My opinion is that you ought to 
 let them go, and to give them each a pocketful of the 
 
 " While Mr Skinner was speaking, the assembly sat in 
 profound silence." — Page 92, 
 
 jewellery I saw back here a piece, for damages done to 
 them. If you don't agree to this I intend as soon as I 
 return to my hotel to get out a writ of habeas corpus, if 
 such a thing is to be had in the German Empire; •and 
 
92 IN THE l/NDER-WORLD. 
 
 most likely, if there is any fuss made about it, I will 
 organize a railroad to run along here, and I will have a 
 locomotive whizzing through this mountain in a way that 
 will make you wish you could die again ! That is all I 
 have to say. I am obliged to you for your attention ; and 
 if any of you ever want to communicate with me don't 
 hunt up a medium, but come direct to me at Squan, New 
 Jersey, in the day-time, and if the light annoys you we'll 
 have a comfortable talk in the cellar or the smoke-house." 
 
 While Mr. Skinner was speaking the assembly sat in 
 profound silence, and upon some of the faces could be 
 detected a look of bewildered amazement. When he 
 finished, he said politely : 
 
 " Good morning," and turned to go. 
 
 "How do you think it struck them?" asked Mr. 
 Skinner of his companion. 
 
 '■ You are a marvellous man, and a bold one," replied 
 the spectre, almost timidly. " I thought they would rend 
 you in pieces. Strange ! Strange ! that such things 
 should happen within these realms ! " 
 
 " I told you I'd give you some new ideas," said Mr. 
 Skinner ; " and now, which way are we going .? " 
 
 "Straight forward." 
 
 "And what then.'" 
 
 ■' Soon you will be ushered into the splendid court of 
 Aphrodite, the mistress of these realms, and the power 
 whom you and I and all must obey." 
 
 " A ghost, is she ? '' 
 
 " A being of transcendent and wondrous loveliness." 
 
 " Well, let me know before I get there, for I should 
 like to fix myself up a little." 
 
MR. SKINNER 'S NIGHT 93 
 
 They pressed onward through a succession of apart- 
 ments, each of which was more magnificent than that 
 which preceded it, until they entered a chamber that was 
 adorned with strange, but beautiful objects. 
 
 " That," said the guide, '■ is a plant which gives to him 
 who possesses it the power to ward off evil spirits. He 
 who looks in this mirror sees all his future life in full 
 detail depicted before him. The water of yonder bubb- 
 ling fountain compels complete forgetfulness of the past. 
 He who eats of the fruit that lies upon this table gains 
 such vision that he can see the riches that are hidden in the 
 bosom of the earth. Here are gathered all the resources 
 of magic, and all the marvels that men have dreamed of 
 when they have thought to pierce the veil that shuts out 
 the supernatural from the natural." 
 
 " When you get tired of making an inventory of the 
 effects," said Mr. Skinner, " perhaps you will come along." 
 
 " We are now," said the goblin, reverently, " upon the 
 threshold of the throne-room of the glorious Aphrodite. 
 Through that doorway we shall be ushered into her 
 majestic presence." 
 
 " Wait a minute, then." And Mr. Skinner, unsUnging 
 his satchel, placed it upon the table, among the fruit that 
 improved the eyesight, and began rummaging in its 
 depths. A moment later he took out a clean collar and 
 a hair-brush. Placing himself before the mirror of life 
 to come, he untied his cravat, removed his shirt-collar, 
 put it carefully in his satchel, buttoned on the fresh one, 
 tied his cravat, gave it two or three pats with his fingers, 
 and then surveyed it with a look of satisfaction. Then 
 taking off his hat, he smoothed his hair with the brush. 
 
94 
 
 2N THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 When the operation was completed he returned the brush 
 to the satchel, snapped the catch, resumed his hat, and, 
 turning to the goblin, who observed him with what 
 seemed feelings of horror, he said, " Now I am ready. 
 Shall we go right in ? " 
 
 The shade of the Erl-king approached the door, which 
 swung slowly and 
 silently upon its ml il'ili.S.'! 
 hinges. Mr. Skin- 
 ner followed the 
 goblin through the 
 portal. 
 
 The scene upon 
 which he was ush- 
 ered transcended in 
 dazzling splendour 
 anything that he 
 had ever witnessed. 
 He saw a vast tem- 
 ple, whose walls 
 were massive slabs 
 of gold and pearl, 
 covered by some 
 cunning hand with 
 
 grotesque but beautiful designs of elaborate work- 
 manship. Huge pillars of sapphire and emerald rose 
 from the floor and swept upwards to a roof of snowy 
 crystal, through which a clear, soft radiance poured in a 
 flood which made every nook and corner of the apart- 
 ment as bright as though the noonday sun looked in 
 upon it 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 95 
 
 The floor was of onyx, laid in a wondrous pattern, 
 such as no human mind has ever devised. The doors were 
 made of ebony, inlaid with silver ; and, at intervals, there 
 stood tables of carved ivory, of amethyst, of frosted gold, 
 and chairs of porphyry, and chrysolite, and sardius. 
 Great mirrors of burnished silver hung from the walls, 
 and before them tiny fountains leaped into the air, and 
 fell into jewelled basins. Upon all sides there were 
 riches, beauty, magnificence, and exquisite art, such as 
 no treasure-house upon earth ever presented to the eye 
 of man. 
 
 At the end of the room, beneath a canopy bespangled 
 with gems, two golden thrones were placed, and, sitting 
 upon one of these, the visitor saw a woman, so fair, so 
 noble, so crowned with a matchless and wonderful beauty, 
 that he thought all the loveliness of woman that he had ever 
 looked upon was but as deformity in comparison with it. 
 She was clad in a snowy robe of gossamer fineness, and 
 of most dehcate grace ; and upon her forehead glistened 
 a diadem of jewels of surpassing splendour. About her, 
 as she sat, were gathered a court of other women, 
 scarcely less beautiful, and, as the visitor approached 
 them, he heard strains of music of piercing sweetness, 
 which swelled and throbbed through the crystal arches 
 with vibrations which the ear might have heard for ever 
 and for ever without satiety. 
 
 As the visitor came nearer, it seemed to him that that 
 glorious company had been expecting him, for, when the 
 Erl king said to him, "This is Aphrodite, the Queen," 
 she upon the throne smiled graciously upon him and 
 gave him hearty welcome to her court, while those who 
 
96 IJV THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 surrounded her echoed her words, and appeared eager to 
 do him honour. 
 
 "All very well," said Mr. Skinner, to himself i "but 
 how about Tanhaiiser, and Thomas of Erceldoune, and 
 the other poor wretches in the garden ? I have no doubt 
 that they were received in the same manner." 
 
 "We have waited for you," said the Queen, most 
 graciously, " and we rejoice that you have come to dwell 
 with us. Happy is the mortal who is permitted to linger 
 in the company of the immortals ! " And she extended 
 to him her white hand, that he might kiss it. 
 
 Mr. Skinner grasped it, shook it warmly, and said, 
 
 "Thank you, madame; you are very kind. 1 was 
 travelling through the neighbourhood, outside here, and I 
 thought I'd just drop in. But I can't stay. Sorry ; but I 
 have an engagement in Berlin on the twenty-second." 
 
 " When you have tasted the delights of this realm you 
 will not wish to go. The world from which you come 
 has nothing to offer that can rival the fascinations of 
 this." 
 
 "Well, madame, tastes differ, you know. This is 
 gorgeous, and elegant, and all that ; but, as a steady 
 thing, 1 really think I should prefer Squan." 
 
 " Sit here," said the Queen, pointing to the throne 
 by her side. " It is the place of honour — it is yours. 
 The greatest men of your race have longed to occupy it ; 
 some have done so, and counted it the highest plea- 
 sure." 
 
 " It's handsome, that's certain," replied Mr. Skinner, 
 running his hand over the golden carvings. " Handsome, 
 but I must say that I've seen furniture that would beat it 
 
MS. SJCINNER'S NIGHT 97 
 
 for comfort. Now I wonder that, instead of sitting about 
 on a hard yellow affair like this, you don't order a few 
 stuffed chairs, for common use ? There's a cabinet- 
 maker, near where I live, that would get you up a dozen 
 with springs for almost nothing, and be glad of the 
 chance." 
 
 " You,'' said the Queen, laughingly, " are the only guest 
 who ever thought our temple less than faultless.'' 
 
 "Well, madame, I'm a prosy sort of a man, who 
 always looks at the practical side of things. Now, do 
 you know what I would do if I owned this place ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell." 
 
 " Why, I would rig up some kind of a stove, and keep 
 a coal fire going, to take off the chill. It must be dread- 
 fully damp, underground here." 
 
 The Queen and her maids of honour laughed merrily 
 at this, and Mr. Skinner thereupon added, 
 
 "The best thing that I find here is a little good- 
 humour. My friend, the Erl-king, here is much too 
 solemn to be an agreeable companion. A week with 
 him would make me melancholy for life." 
 
 "You shall always be merry here," replied the Queen, 
 with a sweet smile. " These are the realms of joy, and 
 I will give you a better companion than your guide. 
 Which of these will you choose to be your partner 
 through all the years to come?" And she waved her 
 hand toward the throng which stood around her. 
 
 " None of them, madame ! " 
 
 "What! None?" 
 
 " Excuse me, madame, but I don't think you compre- 
 hend the existing state of things. I am a married man 
 7 
 
98 IN THE UNDER-WORLD- 
 
 already. In my home, far across the sea, I have a wife 
 whom I love. She is not so handsome as these, mayhe, 
 but her homeliness is not actually alarming ; and when it 
 comes to housekeeping and plain cooking, she has no 
 equal from the Hudson River to the Capes, if I do say it 
 myself. While she lives I intend to stick to her." 
 
 Mr. Skinner was gratified to perceive that his remarks, 
 uttered with some warmth, did not give offence. A ripple 
 of laughter swept over the crowd. 
 
 " You have not much love for the beautiful, I think," 
 said the Queen. 
 
 "Oh yes, madame. When it comes to good looks, 
 this place takes the palm, without a doubt. I was aware 
 of that I have often seen statues of you, out in the world. 
 A little scarce of clothes, if you will pardon me for saying 
 so, but uncommonly handsome ; everybody admits 
 that." 
 
 " Men praise me, do they ? " asked Aphrodite. 
 
 '' Oh, yes ! Of course. In the matter of personal 
 appearance, I mean. My guide-book, which I was reading 
 over at the hotel throws out an insinuation that there is a 
 little too much paganism down here for Europe in the 
 nineteenth century ; but in the country that I come from 
 we don't meddle with people's religious opinions." 
 
 The Queen made no response. 
 
 " I do think, though," continued Mr. Skinner, passing 
 one leg thoughtlessly over the arm of the throne and 
 speaking reflectively, " that it might not be a bad idea 
 to organize a missionary movement in these parts. 
 There's Elder Cooper of the Barnegat Meeting ; he has a 
 powerful gift as a persuader, and if you'd allow hi.n to get 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 99 
 
 up a revival-meeting in here somewhere, there is no telling 
 what might happen." 
 
 " We will not speak of that ! " replied the Queen in a 
 tone of light displeasure. 
 
 '' Beg pardon if I was rude ? The thought occurred 
 to me, and I expressed it frankly without meaning to hurt 
 anybody's feelings." 
 
 As he spoke he was surprised to see a great throng of 
 children come running into the apartment. They gathered 
 close about him and gazed at him with childish wonder. 
 Mr. Skinner looked into their faces, and while it was 
 clear that they really were children, it seemed to him 
 that there was something about them which told of 
 more years than their stature counted. They had all 
 the signs of youth, and yet he could not rid himself 
 of an impression that their youth had left them long 
 centuries ago. 
 
 As they ranged themselves before him, he said to the 
 Queen, — 
 
 " Your's madame ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! these are the little ones who left their homes 
 in Hameln to follow the music of the Pied Piper." 
 
 " Seems to me I have heard something about it,'' 
 observed Mr. Skinner ; "how long ago was it ? " 
 
 " Six centuries have passed since they came trooping 
 into the mountain behind the Piper. One hundred and 
 thirty of them came, and they are all here ! " 
 
 " Well, well ! " replied Mr. Skinner, " it's mighty 
 queer, and sad too. How do you treat them ? " 
 
 " We love them." 
 
 " Do you educate them ? No academies down here, 1 
 
IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 'spose? Never let them goto funday school? Would 
 you mind then if I asked a few questions ? " 
 
 " You shall do so." 
 
 Mr. Skinner stood up. 
 
 " Put your hands behind your backs, children ; that's 
 it ; now hold up your heads and look straight at me. 
 What is the capital of Indiana ? Speak right out ! 
 Nobody knows? How is Ireland bounded? Come, 
 answer ! Don't know ? Well, I declare ! How many 
 are four and eight ? " 
 
 The children stood silent, and eyed Mr. Skinner almost 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Well, now," he proceeded to say, " let me try you in 
 spelling. Can you spell ' Baker ' for me ? Begin ! 
 ' B — ! ' Go on ! B-a- b-a-. Somebody try it ! Can't 
 do it ? I was afraid not. Can you spell ' Boy ' ? Begins 
 with a B, like the other ! Don't know that either ! " 
 
 The Queen said that they knew nothing of earthly 
 things. 
 
 " Well, madame, permit me to say that it's a blamed 
 shame the way the education of these children has been 
 neglected. You want a schoolmistress down here worse 
 than you want a parson. That's my opinion, and I don't 
 care who knows it ! " 
 
 Mr. Skinner found himself getting angry and warm. 
 Opening his satchel, he took out a package and said : 
 
 " Children, here's some candy for you. Hardly 
 enough to go around, but it's all I have, and there is no 
 confectionery store handy. I'd give you some money to 
 buy fire-crackers, too, only I know you'd never have a 
 chance to spend it ! " 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT loi 
 
 " You love little children, I perceive," said Aphrodite. 
 
 " I do. I love them too well to like to see them poked 
 underground alive, and kept there six or seven hundred 
 years. It is a great wrong." 
 
 " They are very happy here.'' 
 
 " Well, maybe they are ; but it's not the fair thing. 
 I'll tell you what I'll do. You turn the whole batch over 
 to me, and I'll take them along, and either bind them out 
 or stow them away in an orphan asylum, where they will 
 be decently brought up. Is it a bargain .' " 
 
 " We cannot part with them." 
 
 " Who takes care of them .' Who washes and dresses 
 them, and fixes them up .'' You have no servants .'' No ?, 
 I hardly thought you could persuade nursery maids to live 
 underground here. That is the only advantage you have 
 that I can see.'' 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 " No bother with the servant-girl question. It pesters 
 the life out of women up above. The hired girl we had 
 just before I left home," said Mr. Skinner, with an absent 
 look upon his face, as if his mind was contemplating some 
 curious experience of the past, "parted with us because 
 we complained of her frying the oysters in Mrs. Skinner's 
 pomatum." f 
 
 Aphrodite did not seem especially interested in this 
 fragment of domestic history, and she motioned for the 
 children to go. As Mr. Skinner watched them moving 
 away, he said, putting his hand in the satchel : 
 
 " I just happened to think that I had a bottle of cough 
 medicine along with me, that might be useful to the 
 little ones. You are welcome to it if you want it." 
 
m THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 Her Majesty apparently did not hear him, for she gave 
 a signal, and again the hall was filled with the rapturous 
 music that he had heard a brief while before. Instantly 
 the floor was filled with beautiful dancers, who whirled 
 about in riotous fury through a dance, which became 
 wilder and wilder as it proceeded. Mr. Skinner observed 
 the performance in silence. 
 
 " Is it not beautiful ? " asked the Queen. 
 
 " Beautiful," replied Mr. Skinner ; " but a little too 
 violent for my taste." 
 
 " Shall you not join them ? " 
 
 " I am obliged to you ; but it is with the utmost 
 difficulty that I manage to hobble through a plain 
 cotillion. Round dances I'm opposed to. If I should 
 step in there I should be so giddy in a minute that I could 
 not stand. Your music is fine though. Who attends to 
 that for you ? " 
 
 " The Pied Piper ; his real name is Orpheus.'' 
 
 " Ah ! I'm not a very good judge, although I know 
 the best from the worst. I am a subscriber to the 
 Bamegat Brass Band, down where I live ; and that organ- 
 ization took the first prize at a brass band tournament at 
 Newark last summer. Some think it is superior ; but I 
 dont know. I have always had my doubts about it" 
 
 " Music is ever beautiful," said the Queen. 
 
 " Well, possibly, your experiences have been more 
 favourable than mine. Sometimes when the band comes 
 out serenading at night I incline to think that the art is 
 overrated. Do you sing ? " 
 
 " No ; I listen to others " 
 
 " I'm not much of a singer myself," said Mr. Skinner, 
 
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT 1.03 
 
 prodding an emerald tile in the pavement, absently, with 
 the ferule of his umbrella ; " but when I am at home I 
 do sometimes turn a tune in the privacy of my family." 
 
 "Will you sing for me ? Oh, I know you will ! " ex- 
 claimed the Queen. 
 
 Mr. Skinner had a feeling of diffidence for the first 
 time since he entered the mountain. 
 
 "Well, madame, I would like to oblige you, but to 
 tell the truth, I— my voice is so poor that — " 
 " You will not refuse me ? " 
 
 " But I am such a poor singer, that I know you will 
 not be pleased," and Mr. Skinner laughed a nervous 
 little laugh. 
 
 " I am sure you will try, will you not ? " said Aphro' 
 dite. 
 
 " Well, if you insist on it, I s'pose I must," repUed 
 Mr. Skinner. " Let me see," said he, rubbing his chin 
 and looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling ; " I only knoW 
 one piece, and not much of that. How does it begin?* 
 and Mr. Skinner cleared his throat vehemently, twice. 
 Meanwhile the entire company of dancers, and all the 
 lovely maids of honour had gathered in front of him 
 awaiting with interest the performance. Mr. Skinner 
 felt himself getting uncomfortably warm. He cleared 
 his throat again, and said : 
 
 " I'll do the best I can ; it begins in this way : ' On 
 jor — dan's stor — my — y ba— a— anks I stand. And fast 
 
 ' Wait a minute. I have not got the right pitch. 
 
 That's too high. Let me try again: 'On Jor— dan's 
 
 stor— my — ^y ba — a — nks I stand. And cast a ' That 
 
 won't do ; it's too low. Once more : ' On Jor^dan's 
 
I04 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 stor — :my — y ba — a — anks I — I stand, And cast a — a 
 wistful eye, To Ca — a — nyan's fair and ha — a — appy land, 
 Where my — y possessions 11 — i — ie.' " 
 
 As Mr. Skinner stopped he observed that everybody 
 looked very solemn, and he thought the room somehow 
 had lost some of the brilliant light that had filled it. He 
 was conscious that he had not made a very favourable 
 impression as a vocalist, and in a kind of desperation he 
 yielded to an impulse to try again. 
 
 " I think probably I can do that a little better if you 
 will bear with me: 'On Jor — dan's stor — my— y 
 ba— a— nks I ■ " 
 
 Before he could complete the line, a sudden pall of 
 darkness fell upon the splendid scene before him ; he felt 
 a mighty rush of wind upon his face, and then he was 
 whirled around and around with the greatest violence. 
 He seemed for an instant to lose consciousness, and when 
 he opened his eyes they looked straight upward at the 
 serene beauty of the blue sky. 
 
 He found that he was lying flat upon his back upon 
 the plateau to which he had come yesterday evening. 
 Beside him lay his umbrella and his satchel. Above him 
 the sun was shining brightly, about him the cool breeze 
 rustled the leaves upon the trees, while the music of the 
 birds was wafted to him from the neighbouring forest. 
 He thought that the fair earth and the sunshine and all 
 the things that Nature presented to the eye had never 
 seemed so beautiful. 
 
 How did he get here? That was almost the first 
 question that thrust itself upon his bewildered mind. 
 Was it the sacred nature of the words that he had tried 
 
MH. SKINNER'S NIGHT 105 
 
 to sing that had offended his audience, or was it the 
 atrocious character of his vocalization. He could not 
 tell. He felt that he would give a moderate sum of 
 money to ascertain. 
 
 He looked out over the edge of the plateau, and there, 
 beneath him was the town. He could see the people 
 moving about in the streets, and there was a crowd in 
 front of his hotel. Perhaps they were discussing his 
 adventure and wondering what his fate could be. What 
 should he tell them ? The more he thought about it, the 
 less certain did he feel of the reality of the strange and 
 weird scenes through which he had passed. The im- 
 pression of their actuality was strong upon his mind, but 
 could he say absolutely and positively that he had not 
 dreamed it all .>' He had a decided impulse to scoff at the 
 idea. The Erl-king, the ghosts, and the children, the 
 man to whom he talked in the garden, surely he had 
 encountered them and talked with them ! But did not 
 his common sense revolt at the theory that he had been 
 tumbled into the cavern and tumbled out again without 
 knowing how or by whose hands ! 
 
 His perplexity increased as he reflected upon the 
 matter. Then, suddenly, he thought of the talk he had 
 heard about one hundred years in the mountain passing 
 as swiftly as a single night ; was it possible that this had 
 happened to him ? He looked at his watch. It marked 
 six o'clock. That proved nothing. The scenery about 
 him, and particularly the town looked the same as they 
 had done when he last saw them. He determined to go 
 down to the hotel and satisfy his mind. 
 
 When he reached the hotel he assured himself that 
 
io6 
 
 IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 
 
 only one night had passed. Upon reflection Mr. Skinner 
 resolved not to speak of the matter to any of the other 
 people about the view, but to keep his own counsel ; and 
 to this day he cannot positively say whether he followed 
 Tanhaiiser into the mountain or merely had a tremendous 
 nightmare upon the outside of that eminence. 
 
m 'Bnmmn^ J«u$r«» 
 
 1. 
 
 ' OSHUA HAMMER sat in a rustic arm- 
 chair, upon his porch, with his feet resting 
 upon the railing in front of him at a greater 
 elevation than his head. 
 
 It would be interesting if some curious 
 scientific person should inquire why it is that a 
 man, an American especially, never sits with per- 
 fect comfort unless his legs are extended in the direction 
 of the planetary system. There is a bare possibility 
 that the propensity- to rest in this manner may be the 
 lingering trace of the habit our remote simian ancestors 
 had of hanging with arms and legs from the branches of 
 trees. The suggestion is offered, with proper respect, to 
 the preachers of the doctrines of Evolution. 
 
 Mr. Joshua Hammer's porch completely surrounded a 
 large and comfortable dwelling-house which stood, one 
 
io8 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 story high, in the midst of a coffee plantation, in one of 
 the most beautiful portions of the Republic of Nica- 
 ragua, Central America. Mr. Hammer was an American, 
 a native of New Jersey. Finding the road to wealth at 
 home full of exceedingly formidable obstacles, he had 
 invested his savings in a fertile tract in Nicaragua, 
 planted hundreds of coffee-trees, built himself a fine 
 house, and begun to accumulate riches. His wife was 
 dead. His domestic matters were cared for by his 
 daughter, Irene, his only child, and a singularly hand- 
 some girl. At the moment of which we write, Mr. Ham- 
 mer had staying with him, as a guest. Miss Sarah 
 Appleby, his sister-in-law, the sister of his dead wife. 
 
 Mr. Hammer sat upon the porch reading a huge 
 volume that was bound in sheepskin. It seemed- to 
 interest him deeply, for his eyes were fixed upon the 
 page, and occasionally, as he read, he would pass his 
 hand, in an anxious sort of way, over some portion of his 
 body, as if he were feeling the motion of an internal 
 organ, and was apprehensive of a fatal interruption of thfe 
 performance of its functions. 
 
 Before he had finished his perusal of the volume, a 
 tall man, with hair and beard of a reddish hue, and rnani- 
 festly not a native of the region, ascended the steps to 
 the porch, and said — 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Hammer ! " 
 
 Mr. Hammer removed his feet from the railing, closed 
 his book upon his thumb, and rose to welcome his visitor. 
 
 " Halloa, Knox ! Glad to see you ! Walk up, and 
 take a chair. By the way, Knox, it is lucky you came. 
 Where is your thoracic duct ? " 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 109 
 
 " I have it with me ; I always carry it," observed 
 Knox, without the faintest glimmer of a smile. 
 
 " Oh, I know ; but what I want to ascertain is, where 
 you carry it ? " 
 
 " Why, here^' said Knox, pointing to his chest". " It 
 extends from here to here, and — '' 
 
 " That's enough ! that's all that is necessary. Hang 
 it, old fellow, do you know I believe something is the 
 matter with my thoracic duct ! I never dreamed of such 
 a thing until this morning ; in fact, I hardly think I knew 
 I had a machine of that name inside of me ; but I got 
 to reading about it and its diseases in this medical book, 
 here, and every time a new symptom was described I 
 thought I could detect it." 
 
 " Your imagination is too active," said Knox. 
 
 " I don't know, may be it is. I really have an idea 
 that it's not wholesome for me to read medical works. 
 When I look over an article on functional derangement of 
 the liver, it seems to describe my liver with painful exact- 
 ness ; when I read up on the diseases of the heart, I feel 
 as if mine might collapse at any moment ; if I study up 
 in certain bones, they begin at once to ache ; if I read 
 about scarlet-fever, or yellow-fever, or cerebro-spinal- 
 meningitis, I get a notion that I am a victim of each 
 malady in turn, and that if I don't put myself under 
 treatment at once I am a goner." 
 
 " That is not an uncommon experience," said Knox, 
 laughing. " But why do you read such books .■■ " 
 
 " Well, you see, Irene, she has a queer kind of fond- 
 ness for them ; has a taste for medical science, I really 
 believe ; and I bought a lot of authorities to please her. 
 
1 1 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 She can tell you more about bones and membranes and 
 thoracic ducts in a minute than I could learn in a week." 
 
 " I am glad she shows some partiality for the medical 
 profession," said Knox. "The fact makes me a little 
 more hopeful." 
 
 "Hopeful of what?" 
 
 " Why, you see, Mr. Hammer, I called this morning 
 to tell you that 1 have a notion to marry Irene, if I can 
 get your consent." i 
 
 " But, has she consented ? " 
 
 " Well, not exactly- ; but it amounts to the same thing. 
 She said, when I asked her, that she wouldn't tell me that 
 she loved me better than any one else in the world, but 
 she would admit that she was extremely partial to doc- 
 tors ; and you know that I am the only physician around 
 here." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Mr. Hammer rubbing his chin. " I'm 
 not so sure about tbat. How about Sandoval .' He has 
 been coming here to see Irene a good deal lately." 
 
 " You don't class him among respectable physicians, I 
 hope ?" demanded Knox. " He is only a wretched little 
 quack." 
 
 " I don't know ; I don't notice that he kills any more 
 patients than you do." 
 
 It was a quarrel in which a prudent man like Mr. 
 Hammer did not care to take a decided part. Tecumseh 
 Knox, of Ohio, while studying medicine in Philadelphia, 
 formed a close friendship with a student from Nicaragua 
 with the unreasonable name of Diego Mendoza y Herrara 
 De Leon Gomez Maria Sandoval ; and when the two 
 graduated, Knox, having no prospect of finding a district 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 unequipped with a physician which he could devastate 
 while learning the practical part of his profession, was 
 easily persuaded by his friend Sandoval, whom he ad- 
 dressed continually as " Sandy,'' that an attempt to 
 interfere with the death-rate of Nicaragua might afford 
 profitable employment to more than one enterprising man, 
 and so he accompanied Sandoval to the home of the latter 
 in that State. 
 
 The two remained upon the best of terms for several 
 years, until a day came when Sandoval announced him- 
 self a convert to the principles of homoeopathy, and 
 began to attack the diseases of his patients with infini- 
 tesimal doses. Then Tecumseh Knox swore eternal 
 hatred to him ; for the human heart knows no animosity 
 so bitter as that with which the allopath regards the 
 homoeopath. And when Sandoval subsequently entered 
 political life, Knox at once joined the party that was in 
 opposition to the Sandoval party, and the two organiza- 
 tions went at each other, tooth and claw, with a new fury 
 born of the antagonistic medical theories infused into 
 them. 
 
 Sandoval, just now, happened to be President of the 
 Republic. It occurred to him one night that the neigh- 
 bourhood was so healthy and the collection of bills so 
 difficult, that there might be more profit in governing the 
 Republic : so he had a private interview with General 
 Flynn, Commander-in-Chief of the army, and his argu- 
 n-ents, for some reason, were so powerful with the General, 
 that Sandoval was able to issue a fiery pronunciamento, 
 and to summon the army to his assistance while he went 
 around and " cleaned out " the administration. 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 " He is nothing but a mean little quack," said Knox, 
 to Mr. Hammer. " Don't call that creature a physician, 
 I beg of you ! " 
 
 " Well, anyhow, I think he has a hankering after 
 Irene, and if she chooses to regard him as orthodox in 
 his views, I don't see exactly what we are going to do 
 about it. Besides, he is a President, you know. That 
 counts for something." 
 
 " If Irene thinks so I'll run him out before morning ! 
 I can scare up a revolution in this Republic in twenty 
 minutes at any time," said Knox. " President ! Why, 
 I'll go round and evacuate the office with the toe of my 
 boot if Irene wants political glory." 
 
 " All right," said Mr. Hammer, " I don't care anything 
 about it myself. Irene must settle it. I'll give my bless- 
 ing to whichever one of you she chooses to take. I'd 
 rather have you, because you're an American ; but 
 Sandy's not a bad fellow for a son-in-law. He will suit 
 me if he will suit Irene.'' 
 
 " That's enough,'' said Knox. " That is all I can ask. 
 You say that Irene is mine if she will take me. I'll soon 
 settle that matter. And now I'll say good morning." 
 
 As Dr. Knox withdrew. Miss Appleby came out upon 
 the porch and sat down in one of the chairs. 
 
 " That man, Sarah," said Mr. Hammer, " wants to 
 marry Irene.'' 
 
 "He does, does he? Well, I trust she won't have 
 him ! You didn't encourage him, I hope ? " 
 
 " No ; I encourage nobody. Irene shall marry accord- 
 ing to her own taste. So far as I am concerned my plan 
 is to keep on good terms with everybody. Sandoval is 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 113 
 
 in power to-day, and he throws off my taxes because he 
 wants my influence. To-morrow Knox may be in his 
 place, and what I want is to get Knox into such a frame 
 of mind that he will keep my taxes off. I'm for the 
 government, no matter who heads it. When the govern- 
 ment refuses to help me, I shall get up a little private revo- 
 lution of my own, and help myself to the government." 
 
 " I hope Irene will never marry a doctor," said Miss 
 Appleby. " I hate doctors." 
 
 " They are useful sometimes, Sarah." 
 
 "Yes, useful to undertakers and tombstone people. 
 How does a doctor know what's the matter with a man, 
 when he can't see into him ? If he could take a lantern, 
 and crawl down and explore him, he might do some good." 
 
 " Sometimes they make cures, though." 
 
 " How often ? There was Mrs. Martinez ; she was 
 taken with chills ; they'called in a doctor. Where is Mrs. 
 Martinez now? I don't know where she is, but she isn't 
 where she ought to be. There was Diaz's coloured man ; 
 he was a little bilious. The doctor was sent for, and 
 now he is an angel — that is, of course, if there are 
 coloured angels. And Mrs. Alvarado ; look how she 
 went ! Right healthy and well, excepting a pain in her 
 shoulder. The doctor dosed her, and off she went into a 
 better world ; I hope she did anyhow." 
 
 "And Lerdo's Jim, too." 
 
 " Yes, Lerdo's Jim ; took a few pills, and the next 
 
 thing he knew he was flitting into the hereafter. Been 
 
 alive now, if the doctors had let him alone. And Mr. 
 
 Velasquez, and Mr. Alvarado, and Miss Mendez, and the 
 
 two Escobedo girls, and old Mrs. Gadara — what's become 
 8 
 
114 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 of all of them, I want to know? Why, they've been 
 hustled into the tomb by doctors ! That's where theyare. 
 Don't tell me!" 
 
 " Irene doesn't seem to dislike them as much as you do. 
 I think she is rather fond of studying medicine herself." 
 
 " I know she is ; and, Joshua, you take my advice, and 
 repress the propensity ! This morning she put her arms 
 around my neck, and pretended to be affectionate ; but 
 I was suspicious, and when I pressed her, she confessed 
 that she was examining my jugular vein ! She said she 
 wished she could bleed me ! Wished she could bleed her 
 aunt! I tell you, Joshua, it is simply murderous ! " 
 " She never wanted to bleed me." : 
 
 " No ; but, Joshua, I strongly suspect that she has 
 more than once mixed mild doses of medicine with your 
 tea so as to try the effect." 
 
 " Maybe that is what is the matter with my thoracic 
 duct." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it ! Irene means well, but she i? 
 far too enthusiastic. Last Tuesday she gave the cook 
 some medicine for spasms that sent the girl bounding 
 about the kitchen floor like a rubber ball. I had to sit 
 down on her to stop her. Irene stood calmly by, and 
 said it was 'very interesting.' I'm afraid she'll poison 
 us all some day — accidentally, of course ; but it will be no 
 comfort to me, when I'm dead, to know that Irene didn't 
 mean any harm." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of 
 Irene with a person in military dress, whom she intro- 
 duced to her aunt, and whom her father welcomed, as 
 General Flynn. 
 
' Sent the girl bounding about like a rubber ha.ll."— Pa fe 114, 
 
1 1 6 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 General Terence Flynn was Commander-in-Chief of 
 the army of the RepuHic. He was small in stature, and 
 not remarkably good looking. His hair was sandy and 
 rather thin ; and an accident of some kind had broken 
 the bridge of his nose, and given that feature a peculiar 
 twitch to the left, so that if the General had made up his 
 mind to " follow his nose " through life, he would have 
 been turning corners perpetually. 
 
 General Flynn was the son of an Irishman who came 
 to America twenty years before the period of this narra- 
 tive, and who had engaged in the business of mixing 
 mortar with a hoe. Terence was sent to. a public school, 
 and after finishing his education he made an ineffectual 
 attempt to study law. Then he shipped as a sailor before 
 the mast, and when he had knocked about the world for a 
 few years, he sailed one day into a Central American port 
 as first mate of a schooner. Hawing quarrelled with the 
 captain, he resigned his position and went to Niqaragua, 
 where, in a year or two, he mastered the language, and 
 plunged into the peculiar politics of the country with 
 hearty enthusiasm. 
 
 One of the Presidents, whom he had helped into office, 
 gave him command of the army. As the commander of 
 the army, usually, was the only man in the country of 
 whom the rulers were afraid, and as General Flynn* was 
 just the kind of a person to recognize a particularly good 
 thing when he had it, he proposed to himself to retain the 
 position during the remainder of his life. 
 
 " I met the General a moment ago," said Irene, as 
 the party sat down, "and he was so kind as to offer to 
 accompany me home,'' 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 117 
 
 " And no soldier ever performed more agreeable escort 
 service," said the General, gallantly. 
 
 "The General was good enough," said Irene, "to 
 give me some information that I wanted, and I asked him 
 to come in and finish the conversation." 
 
 " What she wanted," said the General to Mr. Hammer, 
 " was to know if, during my experience upon the battle- 
 field, I ever witnessed a compound fracture of the tibia."' 
 
 " Did you ?" asked Jliss Appleby. 
 
 " No, ma'am. I have fought thirty-four battles in this 
 Republic, but in the whole of them only eight men have 
 been wounded, and one man killed." 
 
 "What killed him?" 
 
 " He was bitten by a double-nosed pointer belonging 
 to the enemy, and the bite mortified. The Nicaraguan 
 soldier, as a rule, has an overpowering aversion to getting 
 hurt. He hates a war with real bullets." 
 
 " But you were wounded yourself. General," said Irene. 
 
 " So I was.'' 
 
 " How ? " inquired Miss Appleby. 
 
 " I accidentally kicked over a loaded musket at the 
 barracks, and shot myself in the leg. The ball is in there 
 yet," said General Flynn, touching his calf. 
 
 "And the General says I may probe for it, sometime," 
 said Irene. 
 
 " Irene ! " shrieked her aunt, " I am surprised at you ! 
 Probe for a ball in General Flynn's leg? I never heard 
 of such a thing ! " 
 
 " Indeed, nia'am ; and if the young lady is fond of sur- 
 gery, why shouldn't she ? It'll be a work of humanity. 
 I've given her permission to try a new kind of remedv for 
 
Il8 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 fever upon the army. The whole military force of the 
 Republic is at her service, if she wants to practise for 
 doctoring." 
 
 " Isn't it splendid!" said Irene. "Oh, you are too 
 kind, General." 
 
 " I'm afraid the mortality rate will be larger than in 
 time of war,'' said Mr. Hammer, smiling. 
 
 '' Oh, papa!" exclaimed Irene ; " you know you're not 
 in earnest.'' , ^ 
 
 "And how is the army, General ? " asked Mr. Hammer. 
 
 "Well, from fair to middling, sir, as well as I can make 
 out. It's a little hard to keep the exact run of things. 
 You see, there are fifteen thousand men on the rolls, but 
 we can't scare up more than one hundred and thirty- 
 five for active duty, and twenty-two of them are brigadier- 
 generals." 
 
 " Don't they get jealous of each other?" inquired 
 Aunt Appleby. 
 
 " Yes, in time of peace ; but when there's war I have 
 no trouble. In the fight of last December three briga- 
 diers stayed at home because they had notes to meet. 
 General Curculio backed out because it looked like rain, 
 and he had lent his umbrella ; and General De Campo 
 wrote to say that he would be unable to come because his 
 mother-in-law had lumbago." 
 
 " You won, though, I believe ? " said Irene. 
 
 " Yes," said the General, with a proud smile. " I put 
 a guard around the door of the executive mansion. Then 
 I broke in a window with a brick, and when the President 
 appeared, I told him to get out. He said he would as 
 soon as he could get his boots on. The rascal ! he wanted 
 
M/SS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 1 9 
 
 time to bag the unexpended balance of the executive ap- 
 propriation ! I went in and caught him at it, and matched 
 him down stairs by the collar." 
 
 " He musfhave been a hero," said Miss Appleby. 
 
 " But when we put Sandoval in, I resorted to strategy. 
 The army, you know, had shrunk up so much, and the 
 weather was so hot, that the men hated to go into battle ; 
 and I sent word to the President that there was a cock- 
 fight in the Plaza with a Yucatan rooster on which he had 
 a bet. He come right out, of course, and when he got 
 back I had Sandoval in office, with eighteen men guarding 
 him with loaded muskets. A more disgusted man than 
 the ex- President you never saw in the whole course of 
 your life ! " 
 
 " I have an idea Sandoval won't stay in long," said Mr. 
 Hammer. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I haven't quite made up my mind. 
 It's a mere question now of homceopathy or allopathy. 
 Knox, you know, belongs to the Opposition, and they call 
 Sandoval's crowd ' The Pilule Party ;' while Sandoval 
 always alludes to them as the ' Phlebotomists.' Just at 
 this moment I'm for the Pilules, but I might be made to 
 see that the Phlebotomists have right on their side. I 
 think the army is rather more partial to quinine and 
 calomel than it is to medicine that the men can't feel 
 going right to the spot. I'd like to discuss the subject 
 with you, Miss Irene.'' 
 
 " Oh, do ! I'll show you all the authorities.'' 
 
 " Irene ! you shock me, ' said her aunt. 
 
 " May I, pa ? " asked Irene. 
 
 " I see no harm in it," said Mr. Hammer. " I'll get 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 you, at the same time, to draw out a map of my thoracic 
 duct. I'd like to see how it looks." 
 
 " And the General, pa, has promised to get me a 
 skeleton, if you will let me have it. Will you, pa ? " 
 
 " To scare your aunt with ?" 
 
 " Irene Hammer ! if you bring a human skeleton into 
 this house, I will leave at once ! " exclaimed Miss Apple- 
 by. " As those bones enter one door, I go out the other.'' 
 
 " Oh, well ; we can discuss the skeleton after a while. 
 Suppose now we adjourn to the library," said Mr. Hammer. 
 
 " With pleasure," said the General, as he offered Irene 
 his arm. Then Miss Appleby joined her brother-in-law, 
 and the whole party entered the house. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Pilule party, a few weeks later, were still in power, 
 General Flynn having neglected to give to the arguments 
 of the Phlebotomists against the homoeopathic theories 
 that weight which Knox felt really belonged to them. 
 
 In the meantime, President Sandoval, when he could 
 spare time from the duties of state, became a more atten- 
 tive visitor at the house of Mr. Hammer. He was a man 
 of very agreeable manners, and rather a favourite with 
 Mr. Hammer and Irene, and appreciation of this fact by 
 Dr Knox filled the latter gentleman with raging jealousy. 
 Knox, in fact, began to conceit that Irene treated him with 
 a certain degree of coldness, and he was keenly sensible of 
 the fact that to encounter any serious obstacle in that 
 quarter after asking Irene's hand of her father, would.be 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 2 1 
 
 to make him appear ridiculous in the eyes of the old gen- 
 tleman. Knox determined to try to bring matters, to a 
 crisis- 
 It was a lovely evening.. Sandoval sat with Irene 
 upon the porch, behind a mass of fragrant clinging vines, 
 while the round moon rose slowly over the distant hills 
 and dimmed with its misty light the radiance of the 
 myriad fire-flies that flitted, sparkling, amid the shrub- 
 bery. The two were alone. Mr. Hammer was writing 
 in the library, and Miss Appleby had gone to bed with 
 rheumatism in her shoulder-blade. Sandoval was speak- 
 ing softly to Irene. 
 
 " Why, look at the matter, Miss Hanwier ! Examine it 
 for yourself! What do you do when your nose is frozen ? " 
 " It never is frozen in this climate." 
 " But*suppose it should be ; would you put it in hot 
 water?" 
 
 " Not too hot." 
 
 " No ; you would apply snow to it ; you would bury 
 it in ice." 
 
 " Would that cure it?" 
 
 " Yes ; for like cures like. And so if your toes were 
 frosted. Excuse me for speaking of your toes. Say my 
 toes. If my toes were frosted, would I hold them to the 
 fire?" 
 
 " I don't know. Would you ? " ~ 
 " Of course not ; I should put them in cold water ; the 
 colder the better." 
 
 " Barefooted, do you mean ? '' 
 
 " Barefooted. That is the hoinoeopathic principle. Cold 
 for cold, heat for heat." 
 
12 2 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 " Don't you ever allow mustard plasters ? I can never 
 approve a school of medicine that rejects mustard 
 plasters." 
 
 " In some cases, of course. Where the malady is of a 
 mustard character, we cure with mustard. Now, for in- 
 stance, what does arnica do when taken internally?" 
 
 " Makes you sick ? " 
 
 '' No ; it produces bruises upon the skin. That is why 
 we use it to cure bruises." 
 
 "I will put some in Aunt Appleby's tea to-morrow 
 morning, to see if it will." said Irene. 
 
 " And so if you are warm, and wish to become cool, do 
 you take a cold bath .' That will make you warm. You 
 take a hot bath, and you at once feel cool. If you have 
 a fever, you make hot applications to the body. The 
 principle runs all through the whole list of diseases." 
 
 " How interesting!" exclaimed Irene. 
 
 " I shall be glad to unfold the whole homoeopathic 
 scheme to you at any time. You take an odd interest in 
 such things." 
 
 " I wish I could study medicine." 
 
 " Not for the purpose of practising, I hope." 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " You know how much we professional men abhor 
 women doctors. But we will not discuss that. Why not 
 marry a physician ? '' 
 
 " That would be my preference." 
 
 " It would ! You don't know how happy I am to hear 
 you say that ! Homoeopathic or allopathic ?" 
 
 " That would depend, of course, on circumstances. 
 Your plan with frozen noses strikes me very favourably." 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 123 
 
 '' Let me hope that you will be favourably impressed, 
 also, with the author of the suggestion. In fact, Irene, I 
 love you ! Will you be my wife ? " 
 
 " Really, Signor Sandoval, I — I have hardly considered 
 the— the— " 
 
 " Remember ! I do not ask you to marry a mere phy- 
 sician. My wife will be honoured as^he first lady of the 
 Republic, for I am the President ; and — " 
 
 While he was speaking, a man came up on the porch,^ 
 and said — 
 
 " Is Doctor Sandoval here ? " 
 
 " Yes ; here I am. What's the matter ? " 
 
 " Only a little trouble up here at the House.'' 
 
 " A disturbance .■' " 
 
 " Yes, a kind of one.'' 
 
 " I must go and see what the difficulty is." 
 
 " Oh no, you needn't," said the messenger, " it's all 
 over." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Knox is President ! " 
 
 " Knox ? Tecumseh Knox .'' " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '' Where's General Flynn .' Order him to call out the 
 troops at once This is serious, Miss Irene." 
 
 " He has called them out! " 
 
 "WeU.?"- 
 
 "And they came." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "And General Flynn and the army have declared for 
 Knox and the Phlebotomists ! " 
 
 " The perjured villain ! " shrieked Sandoval. 
 
124 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 " Yes, sir. They sent to the executive mansion, and 
 asked if you were home ; and when the coloured girl said 
 you weren't, they dashed in, set your trunks and bed- 
 steads in the street, and Knox moved in. He has turned 
 out the Cabinet, confiscated all the money in the Treasury, 
 made General Flynn Knight of the Order of S§,n Salvidor 
 and the Blue Eleph»nt, and he's thinking about declaring 
 war with Costa Rica, so as to give the brigadier-generals 
 a chance to sack a couple of towns and go in for glory ! 
 It's the biggest thing in the way of a revolution that 
 this Republic has struck yet ! " 
 
 " Well, well," said Sandoval, sadly, turning to Irene, 
 "I don't see how this government is ever going to make 
 its influence felt in the affairs of Europe if things go on 
 in this manner. It's not the right way to conduct a free 
 republic, that's certain !" 
 
 " It has the advantage of being original," said Irene. 
 
 " Yes, but it's not sufficiently impressive ! Why. those 
 bloated old despots across there in Europe roll over and 
 laugh when they hear about such proceedings. It seems 
 to me that what we want here is greater respect for the 
 dignity of the Presidential office." 
 
 " Pa will be surprised when he hears about it,'' ob- 
 served Irene. 
 
 " Why, if they had only given me a little time ! But 
 to run a man out while he is away calling on a friend ! 
 It's not the fair thing. I'd just written to the President 
 of ■\''enezuela to come up and pay me a state visit, too ! 
 He'll come and find Knox in office 1 It is a little too mor- 
 tifying ! But you," said Sandoval, drawing close to Irene, 
 " you will love me still, won't you ? " 
 
MJSS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 2 5 
 
 " Still ! Love you still ! I don't think I understand 
 you exactly." 
 
 " I thought you intended rather to iritimate that you , 
 would reciprocate my feelings." 
 
 "You misunderstood me. I did not mean to convey 
 Such an impression. To tell the truth, Signor, pa wants 
 to keep in as much as possible with the administration, 
 and my duty is to help him." 
 
 " This is heartrending ! Misfoi'tune seems to heap 
 itself upon me ! " 
 
 " And, at any rate, I have long had an impression that 
 if I married at all, I should choose a man who had a tre- 
 pan, or consumption, or something, so that I could study 
 his case continually." 
 
 " I have a touch of gout, now and then, if that will be 
 of any use to you.'' 
 
 " I'd rather not decide so important a matter finally 
 just now." 
 
 " Oh, very well. I'll call again, if you will permit me. 
 Perhaps," said Sandoval, significantly, as he rose to go, 
 "when I come again I will be President, and have the 
 Phlebotomists under my feet ! " 
 
 When Mr. Hammer came down to breakfast in the 
 morning, he called his servant and asked, 
 
 " Jose, who is President this morning } " 
 
 " Dr. Knox, sir ; unless they had another revolution 
 after midnight." 
 
 "Knox, eh.' Well, Jose, just run into the city, and 
 inquire how things stand. And, Jose, find out the name 
 of the Secretary of the Treasury, and come back as 
 quickly as you can. I want," said Mr. Hammer to 
 
126 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 Irene, "to address a note to him before he is turned 
 out." 
 
 " For my part," said Miss Appleby, " I consider such 
 governments ridiculous. But what can you expect from 
 a lot of doctors ? " 
 
 " So Flynn has gone over to the Phlebotomists, has' 
 he ? I expected that," said Mr. Hammer. • 
 
 " They drugged him, I reckon,'' remarked Miss 
 Appleby. 
 
 " Dr. Sandoval was very indignant at his conduct," 
 said Irene. " But I have no doubt General Flynn acted 
 in accordance with the dictates of his conscience." 
 
 " General Flynn's conscientiousness, darling," said Mr. 
 Hammer, "is like ^andoval's doses -microscopic !" 
 
 " He hasn't enough to stick a pin in, I'll guarantee," 
 observed Miss Appleby. 
 
 " General Flynn wishes to see you, sir," said a servant, 
 entering the room. 
 
 " Ah ! he is here, is he ! " remarked Mr. Hammer. 
 " I'll go to him at once." 
 
 " You heard about the revolution, of course," remarked 
 the General, as he took a chair. 
 
 " Oh yes ! Sandoval is gone, is he .' " 
 
 " Yes ; you see there was no help for it. The Pilule 
 theories are not popular in the army. Sandoval, Uke all 
 these homceopathists, would persist in trying experi- 
 ments ; he would use the troops for medicinal purposes.'' 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " Why, for instance, on Tuesday he made the twenty- 
 two brigadier-generals take ipecac, to see if it would really 
 produce asthma, and it did. The result was horrible. 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 127 
 
 For an entire day there were twenty-two brigadier-gene- 
 rals meandering about town gasping for breath. They 
 difhi't like.it; they said that they loved their country, but 
 hanged if they were going to make themselves short- 
 winded for her benefit." 
 
 " They got over it ? " 
 
 "Certainly; took more ipecac. But Sandoval was not 
 satisfied with that. He compelled thirty-four colonels to 
 take sulphur, to prove that sulphur produces eruptions as 
 well as cures them. Why, you never saw anything so dis- 
 graceful ! The whole batch of them broke out in a kind 
 of scarlet rash, and Colonel Grambo's wife packed up and 
 went home to her father's, because she was afraid he'd 
 give the children small-pox. I tell you, sir, the soldiers 
 of this Republic are not going to stand too much of that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 " I should think not." 
 
 " So we pronounced for Knox, and ran Sandoval out. 
 And Knox has issued a general order to me to fly-blister 
 the entire force and to cup and bleed every man, from the 
 commander down, so's to get their systems straight 
 again, after Sandoval's foolishness. The men '11 not be 
 worth a cent for a fight if we keep on putting doctors at 
 the head of the government." 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said Mr. Hammer. 
 
 " What I came to see you about,' said the General, 
 " was to ask you to accompany me to-day to a review. 
 Knox is going to inspect the army. Will you come ? " 
 
 " I think I will." 
 
 " And I should like you to bring Miss Irene, also." 
 
 " I will ask her, if you wish it." 
 
128 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVEHS. 
 
 " By the way, Mr. Hammer, now we are speaking of 
 her, do you know I have had serious thoughts of proposing 
 myself in marriage to your daughter ? Would I have your 
 consent, if the proposition should prove agreeable to 
 her." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Hammer, " the fact is I'd rather you 
 would ask her first. Knox said about the same thing to 
 me when he was here a few weeks ago. I'd prefer to 
 have Irene make her own choice." 
 
 " Knox ! You don't mean to say Knox pretends to be 
 in love with Miss Hammer ? " 
 " That is what he said." 
 
 " He did, did he 1 If I had known that last night 
 there would have been no revolution. That settles him ! 
 I'm for the Pilules now, ipecac, or no ipecac. Knox 
 marry her ! Well, that is good ! " 
 
 " But the review will be held, will it ? " 
 " Oh, certainly ! Duty is duty, no matter who is 
 President." 
 
 " We will be there, then. At what time ? " 
 " Half-past eleven, in the Plaza," and General Flynn 
 withdrew, the mortal enemy of the Phlebotomists. 
 
 When Mr. Hammer drove into the Plaza, with Irene 
 and her aunt in his carriage, the army was drawn up in a 
 Ijne. A brass band, in which bass drum and cymbals 
 appeared to predominate, stood at the left playing polkas ' 
 and other dance music with such energy, that the military 
 forces of the Republic were unable to keep their legs still. 
 Upon the staff of the flag was perched a huge green 
 parrot, the national bird ; and it was expressing its 
 opinion of the music in the wickedest objurgations that 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 29 
 
 the colour-sergeant, who had taught it, could discover in 
 the Spanish language. 
 
 The army mustered one hundred and ninety-three 
 men, the attendance being larger than usual because of 
 the existence of a distinct understanding that there was to 
 be no fighting. The arms were of various patterns, from 
 the best modem rifles to old smooth-bore muskets, which 
 kicked with such vehemence that the marksman always 
 retained the impression that he was fired in one direction 
 further than the bufiet was in the other. There was one 
 piece of artillery ; but it had been loaded with wet 
 powder during a revolutionary movement several years 
 before, and as the powder had caked and hardened in 
 drying, it could not be dug out, and the chief of artillery 
 was afraid to try to touch it off with a match. So the 
 gun was used to give dignity to the appearance of things 
 rather than for offensive purposes. 
 
 All the brigadier-generals and colonels were present, 
 except General De Campo, whose mother-in-law had cut 
 the buttons from his uniform and locked up the pins, to 
 punish him for losing money upon a horse-race ; and 
 Colonel Grambo, who had gone to bring his wife home, 
 and to take medical advice about the eruption upon his 
 face. 
 
 General Flynn pranced about upon a superb charger, 
 which was the envy of the whole army. He wore a 
 uniform which the Duke of Wellington would have been 
 ashamed to assume after the battle of Waterloo. He 
 was fairly covered with spangles and gold lace, and the 
 orders on his breast were as thick as the scales upon a 
 herring. 
 9 
 
130 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 The General took his place by the side of the President, 
 but it was observed that he treated Knox with marked 
 coolness. 
 
 Sandoval sat in a neighbouring window, watching the 
 proceedings and gritting his teeth. 
 
 The General first exercised the troops in the manual 
 of arms. The result of each order was a wobbling uncer- 
 tainty in the movements of the muskets, and the mani- 
 festation in each man of a disposition to wait until he saw 
 what his neighbour intended to do. But the General 
 seemed satisfied ; he was acquainted with his army ; and 
 when the manual exercises were finished, the evolutions 
 began. They were so surprising that Mr. Hammer 
 laughed. Nobody in the army seemed to have the most 
 distant idea what he was about, and the densest ignorance 
 was displayed by the twenty-one brigadier-generals, 
 whose manoeuvres were chiefly directed by a desire to 
 keep themselves well to the front, where the grandeur of 
 their clothing and the ferocity of their demeanour would 
 produce the strongest impression upon the spectators. 
 
 While the movements were proceeding, General Flynn 
 whispered to an orderly, and a few moments later San- 
 doval disappeared suddenly from his window. 
 
 Finally, General Flynn saluted Knox, and asked him 
 if he should end the review. Knox said he should like, 
 first, to make a speech to the troops. He rode to the 
 front, and said : — 
 
 " Soldiers ! You have the thanks of your government 
 for the splendour and matchless precision of your 
 manoeuvres to-day. With such an army the liberties 
 of the people are safe from the machinations of despots, 
 
' Knox said he would like to make a speech." — Page 130. 
 
132 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 and the soil of your country from the intrusion of a 
 foreign foe. It was to save you from the traitors who 
 were trying to destroy you with insidious poisons that I 
 assumed the Executive Chair. I grasped the reins of 
 power that fell from hands which were driving us to 
 destruction. Your valour in the past is the best surety 
 of your fidelity in the future. Let us all renew our vows 
 to our common country, and resolve that the last drop of 
 our blood shall be shed to save her from foreign or 
 domestic treason ! Soldiers ! I salute you ! Farewell !" 
 
 The President wheeled about, and as General Flynn 
 dismissed the forces, he rode swiftly to the Executive 
 mansion, the General behind him. 
 
 As Knox entered, he was startled to see Sandoval 
 sitting in the President's chair, surrounded by his former 
 cabinet officers. 
 
 " What are you doing here, sir ? What do you 
 mean ? " he demanded fiercely. " Leave this place at 
 once, or I will put you under arrest ! " 
 
 Sandoval smiled grimly, and said, 
 
 " I don't think you grasp the situation exactly. Why, 
 my gracious, man, you don't imagine that you're the Pre- 
 sident ! Don't you know that there has been another 
 revolution ? " 
 
 " General Flynn," said Knox, sternly, " have that man 
 arrested, and locked up, upon a charge of high treason ! 
 I will make out the necessary papers at once." 
 
 " It can't be done ! " responded the General. 
 
 " It can't be done ? Why not "i " asked Knox, turning 
 white and edging toward the door. 
 
 " Why, because I have just pronounced for him." 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVKRS. 133 
 
 " And the army ? I will appeal to the troops." 
 
 " Oh, you needn't mind. That order about fly-blisters 
 fixed them. The brigadier-generals said they'd prefer 
 asthma to blisters.'' 
 
 Knox reflected in silence upon the situation. 
 
 " It's of no use, Knox," said the General. " The 
 Pilules are in possession. You might as well pack up 
 your traps and quit ! You know well enough that San- 
 doval's theories are sound. You vaccinate for small-pox, 
 don't you .' And you thaw out a frost-bite with ice, don't 
 you ? I've seen you do it myself. So move on now ! 
 Go ; or I'lLbe obliged to call in the guard." 
 
 As Knox sullenly withdrew, Sandoval said to his 
 Secretary of the Treasury — 
 
 " Collect a tax of two per cent., at once, on all the real 
 and personal property in the Republic. General Flynn 
 will assist you. And try to negotiate another loan of 
 50,000 dollars up at the banker's. We can't run this 
 government without money ; and, besides, I'm entirely 
 out of cigars. General, give the army leave to forage in 
 all the Phlebotomists' hen-roosts and banana-patches; 
 and give the men new outfits from any occupied clothes'- 
 line that you come across ! Our brave defenders must not 
 suffer if there's not a shirt left to the civilians of the 
 RepubUc ! " 
 
 III. 
 Ex-President Knox thought perhaps he might find 
 at the Hammer mansion consolation for some of his 
 woes. When he called he discovered that the family 
 
134 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 had not yet heard of his misfortunes. Mr. Hammer 
 said — 
 
 " Knox, I congratulate you upon your accession to the 
 Presidency! It is a Uttle rough for Sandy; but, perhaps, 
 his turn will come again, some time or other." 
 
 " It has already come, sir,'' remarlced Knox. 
 
 •' What ! another revolution ? To-day ? " 
 
 "Yes, that red-headed little rascal, Flynn, betrayed 
 me ! Mr. Hammer, hanged if I believe General Flynn 
 has that high-minded kind of patriotic devotion that a 
 soldier ought to have. Epaminondas didn't tear out the 
 government two or three times a month; and if Lord 
 Napier ever dispersed the British Cabinet because they 
 wouldn't let him fly-blister the army, the information has 
 been suppressed. I am not very particular, but Flynn 
 seems to me to lack some of the greatest characteristics 
 of a. hero." 
 
 " That thought occurred to me also," said Miss Ap- 
 pleby, with a slightly scornful smile. 
 
 " Why don't you and Sandy take day and day about ? " 
 asked Mr. Hammer. " You be President on Monday, 
 and let him act on Tuesday." 
 
 "That would be against the constitution," replied 
 Knox. " I have too much respect for that sacred instru- 
 ment to violate it " 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that. I don't think any- 
 body would have noticed the fact if you hadn't mentioned 
 it," said Miss Appleby. 
 
 " Ah ! here is Miss Irene,'' exclaimed Knox, as that 
 lady entered. " Good morning ! Miss Irene, may I have 
 a few moments' conversation with you ?" 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 1 35 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 " Shall we stroll upon the porch, if your father and 
 aunt will permit us ? " 
 
 Irene acquiesced, and she left the room with Knox. 
 When Knox had explained to her the political situation, 
 he said — 
 
 " But, Miss Hammer, I should not regret the loss of 
 power and office if I could obtain something else that I 
 want." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " Your — your— may I say it ?• your love ! " 
 
 " Oh, doctor ! I can hardly promise you that. I need 
 not attempt to go into an explanation ; but I may 
 mention that, among other things, I cannot be per- 
 fectly sympathetic with you in medical matters. 
 What is your remedy for a frozen nose, for in- 
 stance ? " 
 
 " Why — in fact — indeed, Miss Hammer, I cannot see 
 what relation exists between my affection for you and my 
 theory about frozen noses.'' 
 
 " Dr. Sandoval says he would put it in ice. Where 
 would you put it ? in the fire ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Sandoval has been attempting to delude you 
 with his vile heresies, has he ? " 
 
 " Not so bad as that, I hope ; but like cures like, 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 " If you burned your arm, would you hold a lighted 
 candle to the wound to cure it ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " If you should be half-drowned would you anchor 
 yourself in the river to recover from the shock ? If you 
 
1 36 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 stuck yourself with a pin would you swallow another to 
 make yourself well ? " 
 
 "I don't think I would." 
 
 " Certainly you wouldn't ! But that's homcEopathy ! 
 Suppose your pa should punch out one of his eyes, would 
 you punch out the other as a remedy ? I tell you, Miss 
 Hammer, that kind of foolishness is going to carry this 
 country to destruction, if we are not mighty careful." 
 
 " Why, here's General Flynn ! ' exclaimed Irene, as 
 that valiant warrior galloped up, and dismounted. As 
 she rose to welcome him, Knox did not seem overpowered 
 with joy. In fact, he sat still, and looked glum. 
 
 " Good morning. Miss Hammer ! Halloa, Knox, you 
 here ? " said the General, in a cheery way. " Don't be 
 so downhearted, old man, maybe your turn'U come next." 
 
 " The doctor," said Irene, with an intent to relieve the 
 embarrassment of the situation, " has just been pointing 
 out the fallacies of the homoeopathic theories." 
 
 " I'm beginning to see them myself," said the General. 
 
 " You are ? " exclaimed Knox, with surprise. 
 
 " Doctor Sandoval almost convinced me last night that 
 they were true,'' said Irene. 
 
 " Yes, I heard that he was here last night," said the 
 General, significantly. " He told me what occurred. If 
 I had known that he had certain aspirations, that I 
 needn't mention, I should never have pronounced against 
 Knox here. Told me that he loved her," said the General, 
 in a whisper to Knox. 
 
 " I had no idea he would be made President so soon," 
 said Irene. 
 
 "Well, he won't hold office long, I think,'' said the 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 1 3 7 
 
 General, winking at Knox. " I say, Knox, do you know 
 what he did, almost the first thing after he was sworn in ?" 
 
 "No; what?" 
 
 " Actually ordered me to issue rations of cinchona 
 bark, to see if it would give the army chills ! General 
 Tejada says that Nero, in his worst days, never gave his 
 brigadier-generals chills ; and, for his part, he don't think 
 that's the right way to go about saving the country." 
 
 " Might as well close out the whole sacred heritage of 
 the fathers to some efficient despot at once," remarked 
 Knox. 
 
 " Of course, and so I've pretty much made up my mind 
 to pronounce again for you. S'pose you run up and see 
 General Tejada, and arrange the details with him } Pro- 
 mise that you'll make him a duke or something, and thai 
 you'll guarantee him from fatty degeneration of the heart 
 for a term of years, and he'U lay down his life for you." 
 
 Dr. Knox seemed to like the idea, for he arose, and 
 bidding good-bye to Irene and the General, he mounted 
 his horse, and disappeared down the road. 
 
 " I'm glad he's out of the way,'' said the General ; " I 
 merely wanted to get rid of him." 
 
 " Are you really going to pronounce for him .'" asked 
 Irene. 
 
 " I think I shall ; temporarily, at any rate, until I can 
 look around for a better man. The army is getting dis- 
 gusted with these medical Presidents." 
 
 " But you don't object to medical people, General, 
 I am sure ? " 
 
 " Not when they are as lovely as you are." 
 
 " Oh, General ! " 
 
138 M/SS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 " Yes, I am in earnest. Miss Irene. I fairly worship 
 the ground you tread upon. Won't you give me a little 
 love in return ? " 
 
 " Ah, General, you are asking too much. I have almost 
 vowed not to marry any man who was not sufficiently 
 infirm to be an interesting subject for scientific study." 
 
 " Then I'm the happy man. Look at my nose ! How 
 charming it would bfe, if we were married, for you to 
 exercise your skill in making it straight again ! You 
 shall trj', Irene. Give me your love, and you may put 
 that feature in splints for a month at a time." 
 
 ■' It would be interesting," said Irene, thoughtfully. 
 "The lateral cartilages are only slightly twisted. Pos- 
 sibly I could pull them around with a string tied to your 
 nostril and your right ear.'' 
 
 " Splendid ! " 
 
 " But you would present a peculiar appearance upon 
 parade.'' 
 
 "Who cares.'" 
 
 " I do not suppose that the osseous walls of your nose 
 are affected in any way." 
 
 " I know they're not," said the General, with emphasis. 
 
 " It is a very fascinating study — the nose," said Irene. 
 
 "Mine?" 
 
 " Any one. Thousands of people are actually in ig- 
 norance that they smell with their olfactory peduncle." 
 
 " Hundreds of thousands of them," exclaimed the 
 General. " I didn't even know it myself." 
 
 •'And Aunt Appleby said she wouldn't believe me, 
 because I told her that she couldn't wink without a 
 sphincter muscle. She said she considered me insane." 
 
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 139 
 
 " How unreasonable ! Nothing would induce me to 
 wink without one." 
 
 "Why, a person can't even kiss without a sphincter." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " I know it is so." 
 
 " May I try if I can ? " asked the General. 
 
 " Oh, General, it is too bad for you to make light of 
 such a subject!" 
 
 The General seized her hand and kissed that. She 
 permitted it to remain in his grasp. " I didn't notice 
 whether a — a — what do you call it ? — a sphincter helped 
 me then or not. Let me try again ! " 
 
 Irene smiled sweetly as the General repeated the 
 operation When he tried it a third time she moved her 
 hand suddenly away, and the General's nose struck the 
 back of the chair with some violence. When he lifted his 
 head there were tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Pardon me," cried Irene. " Did you hurt yourself?" 
 
 " Oh, not much." 
 
 " I see that the blow affected your lachrymal glands. 
 They are close to the nose." 
 
 " May I take your hand again ? " asked the General, 
 clasping it without waiting for permission. 
 
 " The hand ! " exclaimed Irene. "How wonderful it 
 is ! I have beautiful plaster Paris models of the carpus 
 and metacarpus up-stairs. I wiU show them to you some 
 day." 
 
 " It is remarkable how much you know about such 
 things — really wonderful," said the General. "What is 
 the bone at the back of the head called ? " 
 
 " Why, the occipital bone, of course." 
 
140 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 " And what are the names of the muscles of the arm ? " 
 
 " The spiraUs and infra-spiralis, among others." 
 
 " Well, now, let me show you what I mean. I want 
 to take a lesson in science. When I put my infra-spiralis 
 around your waist, so, is it your occipital bone that rests 
 upon my shoulder-blade in this way ? " 
 
 " My back hair, primarily, but the occipital, of course, 
 afterwards. But, oh, General, suppose pa should come 
 in and see us ? " 
 
 " Let him come ! Who cares ? " exclaimed the 
 General, boldly. " I think I'll exercise a sphincter again, 
 and take a kiss." 
 
 " General ! how can you ? " said Irene, blushing, as he 
 withdrew his face, after executing the feat. 
 
 " Don't call me General ; call me Terence," he said, 
 drawing her closer. " You accept me, don't you ? I 
 know you do, Irene, darling ! " 
 
 "Terence!" whispered Irene, faintly. 
 
 "What, darling?" 
 
 " I can hear your heart beat ! " 
 
 " It beats only for you, my angel ! " 
 
 "And it sounds to me out of order ; the ventricular 
 contraction is rot uniform." 
 
 " Small matter of wonder for that when it's bursting 
 for joy." 
 
 "You must put yourself under treatment for it. I 
 will give you some medicine." 
 
 " It's your own property, my darling. Do what you 
 please with it." 
 
 "And that wound in your limb? Is the bullet in the 
 tibia or the fibula ? " 
 
M/SS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 4 1 
 
 " I have not the least idea in the world what those 
 terms refer to, but you may analyze me until you find it. 
 You may cut me all up in bits, if you want to." 
 
 "Oh, Terence!" 
 
 " The sphincter operation is the one that strikes me 
 most favourably," said the General. " Let me see how 
 it works again." 
 
 " And Gen — Terence, I mean ! " 
 
 «WeU, sweet?" 
 
 " Have you any objection to my studying medicine, 
 and becoming a real physician 1 " 
 
 " Not the least bit in the world ! I'll buy you a case 
 of surgical instruments to-morrow." 
 
 "Oh, will you?" 
 
 "With a saw, a carving-knife a foot long, and 
 lancets, and a gimlet, and everything." 
 
 " Splendid ! But, Terence ? " 
 
 "What, dearest?" 
 
 " Not a gimlet. Doctors don't use it." 
 
 " I thought they did. Anyhow, I'll get you gallons 
 on gallons of squills, and paregoric by the barrel, and 
 arsenic and stuff by the ton — enough to physic the 
 whole of Central America." 
 
 " How can I thank you ! " 
 
 ''And I'll appoint you Surgeon- General of the Forces, 
 and make old Knox mad enough to commit suicide." 
 
 " Poor Dr. Knox ! What will he say when he hears 
 that we are engaged ? " 
 
 " I don't care what he says. If he mentions the 
 matter to me, "I'll recommend him to marry your aunt. 
 He and Sandoval might toss up for her." 
 
1 42 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 " Aunt is going away." 
 
 " She is ? " 
 
 « To Cuba. Her brother lives there. She is going 
 to stay with him for several months." 
 
 " Knox can wait until she comes back." 
 
 " She is not partial to doctors." 
 
 " I remember your saying so before. Her incredulity 
 about sphincters is simply astonishing. Let me see, how 
 was it the sphincter acted .■' " 
 
 Just as the General was kissing Irene, Miss Appleby 
 came out upon the porch, followed, a moment later, by 
 Mr. Hammer. 
 
 "Well, upon my word, these are curious kinds of 
 carryings on ! Irene, do you permit gentlemen to salute 
 you in that manner ? " 
 
 " It is all right, madame," said the General, gaily. 
 " We are engaged. I feel as if I should like to salute 
 the entire family." 
 
 " You may kiss Mr. Hammer, if you want to ; and the 
 cook." 
 
 " Mr. Hammer," said the General, " Irene, here, has 
 accepted my offer of marriage. I shall be glad to discuss 
 the matter with you at your convenience." 
 
 " I will give you an early opportunity, sir," replied Mr. 
 Hammer. " But I am afraid this is another revolutionary 
 movement. Knox and Sandoval will be mad enough to 
 do anything." 
 
 " They are not dangerous, sir ; not a bit dangerous. I 
 will take care of them ! I am sorry, Miss Appleby, to 
 hear that you are going away. You'll miss the wedding. 
 I hoped to dance with you." 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 143 
 
 " I don't dance." 
 
 " We sljall have the army band." 
 
 " In that case, I doubt if I should be able to dance if I 
 knew how." 
 
 " And now," said Mr. Hammer, " suppose we adjourn 
 to dinner. General, you will join us, of course ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly. I feel as if I were mustered in as 
 one of the family already." 
 
 And the party disappeared through the hall door. 
 
 Two important events happened on the morrow. Miss 
 Appleby sailed early in the morning for Cuba. She had a 
 great dread of sea-sickness. Irene gave her two infallible 
 preventives, Dr. Knox sent her a third, and Dr. Sandoval 
 called to leave a fourth. Miss Appleby had still others that 
 she had seen described in newspapers, and General Flynn 
 gave her a patent swinging berth, which oscillated with the 
 vessel, and was warranted to make sea-sickness impossible. 
 
 As the steamer sailed away, the friends of the family 
 waved a last adieu with their handkerchiefs, and Irene 
 cried so hard that the General was compelled to exert 
 himself strenuously to console her. 
 
 Later in the day, the General called the army out, and 
 in a short speech informed the troops that the liberties 
 of the country were in peril, and that upon them devolved 
 the duty of snatching the government from the hands of 
 Sandoval and the traitorous Pilules, who were threatening 
 it with destruction. 
 
 There were one hundred and fifteen men in the ranks, 
 and fourteen brigadier-generals. Forming the force in 
 battle array, the General gave the order to move upon the 
 Executive mansion. President Sandoval seemed to have 
 
1 44 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 heard of the proposed attack. All the doors were shut 
 and locked, and a dozen men stood at the spcond-floor 
 windows with muskets. 
 
 As the assailants approached, one of the muskets went 
 off by accident, and instantly thirty-eight private soldiers, 
 nine colonels, and six brigadier- generals left the ranks to 
 go home after something that they had forgotten. 
 
 General Flynn rode bravely up to the besieged build- 
 ing, with drawn sword in his hand, and demanded that 
 Sandoval should surrender. 
 
 " I'll see you hanged first ! " replied Sandoval. 
 
 " I want to avoid bloodshed,'' said the General ; and 
 at the suggestion of bloodshed ten more men and a colonel 
 remembered that they had other engagements ; " but I'm 
 going to take this building." 
 
 " I don't think you are," replied Sandoval " I am the 
 lawful President of this Republic, and I'll die in defence 
 of my rights." 
 
 "What's the use of talking in that way, Sandy?" 
 remonstrated the General. ' ' You know well enough you've 
 got to succumb, so you might as well come down at once." 
 
 " Somehow, I can't see it in exactly that light." 
 
 " If we have a fight it will only break the doors and 
 splinter up the furniture ; and if we have a siege, why, 
 some of the men'll be sunstruck sitting around out here 
 in the heat. You ought to surrender out of consideration 
 for them." 
 
 " Knox's medicine will kill 'em quicker than sunstroke," 
 replied Sandoval. 
 
 " If I get up there, I'll pull your nose, you infinitesimal 
 doser!" shouted Knox, in a rage. 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 45 
 
 " You'd better attend to the men who are sore from 
 head to foot with your poisonous fiy-blisters before you 
 come around lecturing me, you salivating old rascal ! " 
 repUed Sandoval. 
 
 " Will you surrender or not ? " asked General Flynn. 
 
 " Certainly I won't," replied the President. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll put you and your traitorous Pilule 
 Cabinet out in the street in less than half-anhour ! See 
 if I don't ! " 
 
 The General dismounted, and calling the remaining 
 biigadier-generals around him, he held a council of war. 
 A few moments later a detachment of troops commanded 
 by General Tejada marched off down the street. Sandoval 
 and his brave defenders watched them with mingled curi- 
 osity and alarm. After a brief interval the detachment 
 returned, dragging a fire-engine by a rope. It was 
 stationed beneath Sandoval's window, and the army, 
 equipped with buc kets, formed a double line to the river. 
 
 The meaning of the manoeuvre dawned upon Sandoval 
 and his adherents, and they closed the windows quickly. 
 The engine was manned. The army began to fill the 
 tanks with water. General Tejada seized the nozzle of the 
 hose and mounted a ladder which Knox had placed 
 against the wall. 
 
 When the heroic General reached the top-round, he 
 smashed the window with his fist and turned a two-inch 
 stream of water upon the Executive department of the 
 PUule government. The department, followed by San- 
 doval, dashed into another room. The General leaped 
 through the window, dragging the hose with him, and 
 pursued the fugitives. He drove them from point to point 
 
"He turned a two-inch stream upon thp Executive Department." — Pagt I4S- 
 
MTSS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 m 
 
 until they flew, pell-mell, down the main staircase. The 
 General turned the stream upon them with full force, and 
 they were compelled to choose between seeking refuge in 
 the street and being drowned. They unlocked the door, 
 and in an instant they were in the hands of a guard. Knox 
 entered the doorway to speak to General Tejada, and that 
 gallant soldier, being full of enthusiasm, did not recognize 
 him and turned the hose on him with such vehemence that 
 he was^wept off his feet and carried clear out into the street. 
 
 The revolution was achieved ! The Phlebotomists had 
 won the day. Knox was sworn in at once by the chief 
 justice, who laid down his bucket while he performed the 
 solemn ceremony, and the Pilule Cabinet, drenched, 
 draggled, discouraged, and miserable, was sent home in 
 search of dry clothing. 
 
 " It was a big thing, Knox, wasn't it ? " said General 
 Fljmn. 
 
 " It was genius, General, that idea about the fire-engine ! " 
 
 " I am going to write a book about it. Wars are too 
 sanguinary under existing systems. I shall recommend 
 the adoption of squirt-guns in place of rifles, and fire- 
 engines instead of artillery. Give me enough fire-engines 
 and I'll whip the biggest army in Europe without killing 
 
 IV. 
 The Knox Cabinet had been in office about a fortnight 
 when Mr. Hammer received the following letter from his 
 brother-in-law, an American merchant doing business in 
 Havana : 
 
148 MfSS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 " Dear Joshua : 
 
 " I have sad news to communicate. Sarah reached 
 this port upon the steamer on the 15th instant. She was 
 greatly prcSstrated. She took, before starting upon the 
 voyage, several preventives of sea-sickness, and these, com- 
 bined with the movements of an oscillating berth in which 
 she slept, made her so ill that her life was despaired of by 
 the captain. The surgeon told me that he had not seen 
 so violent a case of sea-sickness during the whole of his 
 professional career. The result was that when she reached 
 my house she took to her bed, and expired on the morn- 
 ing of the 17th instant. In accordance with her last 
 wishes her remains will be forwarded to you upon the next 
 steamer * * * * " 
 
 It happened just at this time that Major General 
 Bussera, the Minister of War of Venezuela, who had been 
 visiting Cuba upon public business, was stricken by 
 yellow fever. He died within a few hours, and arrange- 
 ments were made for conveying him home with much 
 pomp and circumstance in the Venezuelan frigate. El 
 Cuspador, which lay in the harbour of Havana. 
 
 By some most unlucky mischance the boxes con- 
 taining the remains of Major General Bussera and Miss 
 Appleby were precisely alike, and as they lay upon the 
 wharf, near to each other, the Venezuelan sailors of course 
 carried Miss Appleby away to their ship, while the dead 
 Major- General was stowed away in the hold of the packet 
 ship and sent upon a voyage to Nicaragua. 
 
 The manifestations of grief upon the frigate El Cus- 
 ■bador, as she turned her prow homeward, were elaborate 
 and affecting. Minute guns were ordered to be fired 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 149 
 
 during the entire voyage. A gpaard surrounded the bier, 
 which was draped with black velvet and silver, and alter- 
 nating brass bands played melancholy dirges night and 
 day. It was estimated that at least two tons of powder 
 were fired away during the trip, and that several hundred 
 thousands cubic feet of wind were expended by the bands, 
 to say nothing of muscular exertion. 
 
 Upon the arrival of the remains at Caracas, a state 
 funeral was prepared, the entire city was draped in mourn- 
 ing, the streets were filled with people, the army was put 
 into line, and the coffin was placed, amid imposing cere- 
 monials, in a magnificent tomb built at the public cost. 
 Foreign undertakers who were present said that it sur- 
 passed anything of a funereal nature that they had ever 
 witnessed. The whole nation was in tears ; the heart of 
 a great people was wrung with anguish, and the bills 
 amounted to ten or fifteen thousand dollars. 
 
 The mortal part of Major-General Bussera arrived in 
 good time in Nicatagua, and it was taken to Mr. Ham- 
 mer's house. 
 
 General Flynn was present when the box came. He 
 felt that he had a sacred duty to perform in consoling 
 Irene in the hour of her affliction. When the covering of 
 the box was removed Irene exclaimed — 
 
 " How much she has changed ! "and then Irene began 
 to cry. 
 
 " I wouldn't have known her,'' said the General. 
 
 " It doesn't look a particle like Sarah, that is certain," 
 remarked Mr. Hammer. 
 
 "There cannot be any mistake about it, I should 
 think," observed the General. 
 
ISO MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 " Oh, no ; of course not," remarked Mr. Hammer. 
 
 " But aunt was not bald," said Irene. 
 
 " And her nose turned down, instead of up," said Mr. 
 Hammer. 
 
 " It is very curious," remarked the General. " But 
 death produces wonderful changes.'' 
 
 " We cannot comprehend these mysteries," said Mr. 
 Hammer, " but I should like to know how her hair hap- 
 pened to turn black. It used to be grey." 
 
 "And she had no double-chin,'' said Irene. 
 
 " Well, well ! " remarked Mr. Hammer, " we must 
 accept facts as they are. I have no doubt that it is all 
 right." 
 
 The General led Irene away, weeping, and Mr. Ham- 
 mer went to the city to arrange for the funeral. The 
 body was interred in the cemetery on the morrow. Only 
 the family, General Flynn, and the clergyman were present. 
 
 About a month later, a Venezuelan frigate sailed into 
 the harbour, and sent eight boat-loads of soldiers ashore. 
 Nobody could imagine what the object of the invasion 
 was. President Knox, however, suspected that the Pre- 
 sident of Venezuela had come to pay that state visit 
 promised to Sandoval. 
 
 The soldiers said nothing. They marched quickly 
 through the streets and out to the cemetery. Proceeding 
 to the Hammer family vault, they forced open the door, 
 and seized the casket containing the body of Major- 
 General Bussera. Then they placed a keg of powder in 
 the tomb, fixed a slow-match in it, and retreated to a safe 
 distance to watch Mr. Joshua Hammer's sepulchre go 
 whizzing in fragments through the air. 
 
MJSS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 5 1 
 
 Then they returned to the ship with the General's 
 remains, hoisted anchor, and sailed away. 
 
 But where was the late Miss Appleby during this 
 outrageous proceeding ? It was with difficulty that any 
 accurate information could be obtained ; but report said 
 that when the Bussera family discovered that they had 
 buried another person than their noble relative, they were 
 so indignant that they took the casket down to the beach 
 and tossed it into the sea. Other rumours, not authenti- 
 cated, however, declared that it floated away, and for a 
 month or two it sailed around the Gulf of Mexico, bump- 
 ing up against Guatemala and Belize, being shot at for a 
 shark, and affording a roosting-place for sea-gulls . Finally 
 the captain of a Jamaica schooner, report said, tied an old 
 anchor to it, and sank it in sixty fathoms of water. 
 
 When these facts became known in Nicaragua, and 
 the real purpose of the Venezuelan invasion of the ceme- 
 tery was disclosed, the most intense excitement prevailed. 
 There was a feeling that the sacred soil of the Republic 
 had been outraged by foemen, and that the dearest rights 
 of one of the citizens of the nation had been trampled 
 under foot with manifestations of scorn and insult. 
 General Tejada declared that if he could transport two 
 fire-engines to Caracas he would bring Venezuela to her 
 knees. General De Campo swore that blood alone could 
 wash out the stain, and he would be one to volunteer to 
 invade Venezuela with fire and sword— if his mother-in- 
 law would let him. General Curculio sharpened his 
 sword upon a grindstone, and loaded both pistols to the 
 muzzle, apparently with an intent to destroy Venezuela 
 single-handed ; but he was suddenly laid up in bed with a 
 
1 5 2 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 bilious attack, caused by a false report that President 
 Knox had declared war. 
 
 Knox said that war must come ; but he felt as if the 
 country needed time to prepare for a long and bloody 
 struggle. Dr. Sandoval vowed that if he were in office 
 he should fit out a hostile expedition at once; and he 
 asserted, further, that the trouble might have been avoided 
 if the deceased persons who caused it had not been put 
 to death by the murderous treatment of the allopaths. 
 General Flynn seemed disposed to hold his peace. He 
 merely said that if he was wanted to uphold the govern- 
 ment of his country, his superior officer knew where to 
 find him. 
 
 Knox dilly-dallied so long with the matter, that Sando- 
 val resolved to appeal to the country upon the question of 
 Irene's aunt. He issued a proclamation, in which, point- 
 ing to the President's manifest indisposition to resent a 
 wanton and fearful indignity to the Republic, he dwelt 
 upon the fact that the crisis might have been avoided if 
 General Bussera had had homoeopathic treatment instead 
 of the blistering and drenching with which Knox had for 
 years striven to exterminate the human race ; and, 
 finally, he promised that if the people would elevate him 
 again to the Presidency, he would obtain prompt and 
 certain satisfaction from Venezuela. 
 
 Knox replied next day with a proclamation, in which 
 he said that he had already made the following demand 
 upon the Venezuelan Government, and that he should 
 enforce it at the point of the bayonet if it should be 
 refused : — 
 
 I. A complete and satisfactory apology. 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LO VESS. 1 5 3 
 
 2. An indemnity of fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 3. The fishing up of Irene's aunt from the bottom of 
 
 the Gulf of Mexico. 
 
 4. Restoration, in blue marble, with Gothic finish, of 
 
 the Hammer sepulchre. 
 
 5. Payment of Mr. Hammer'sundertaker's bill. 
 
 While the matter was pending between the two Gov- 
 ernments, and while some of the statesmen of Nicaragua 
 were considering if it would not be a good idea to call 
 a Central American Congress to discuss and dispose of 
 the subject of Irene's aunt. President Knox, one evening, 
 rode out to Mr. Hammer's house. On his way thither he 
 was overtaken by General Flynn. He was surprised to 
 learn that the General had the same destination. 
 
 " Flynn ! " said Knox, " if I tell you something, will 
 you keep it a dead secret ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " I tell you because I want you to help me with old 
 Hammer. Why, the fact is, Flynn, 1 have about made 
 up my mind to marry Irene !" 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed the General. 
 
 " Yes, sir. She has kind of half consented, and I'm 
 going to press her this evening for a final answer. Pro- 
 mise me that you will trot the old man off somewhere, so 
 as to give me a clear field ! " 
 
 " 111 see about it." 
 
 " And if you have a chance, say a good word for me. 
 I want his blessing. He has lots of money." 
 
 "Lots of it." 
 
 "And, Flynn!" 
 
 "What?" 
 
IS4 ^^SS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 
 
 " I wish you'd just mention, accidentally, as it were, in 
 the presence of Irene, that Sandy is a phenomenal ass, 
 and that his medical system is a sure road to sudden 
 death ! " 
 
 " Anything else that I can do for you ? " 
 
 " N — no ! I believe not ! Well, you might perhaps 
 just say that I have written a note to the President of 
 Venezuela, to say that if he don't sail out and personally 
 dive for Irene's aunt, I'll kick him, if I have to chase him 
 from the Gulf of Mexico to Terra del Fuego. Something 
 of that kind." 
 
 Irene was at home, and she gave both visitors a hearty ' 
 welcome. After a few moments' conversation, President 
 Knox began to wink furiously at the General, as a hint 
 for him to drop out and search for Mr. Hammer ; but the 
 General seemed not to notice it. The President, there- 
 fore, was obliged to confine his remarks to unsentimental 
 topics, and he began to tell Irene about the discovery of 
 hot springs on General Curculio's plantation, and of an 
 effort the General was making to plant his coffee-trees 
 around the springs, in the hope tha t when he bored them, 
 as the New Englanders do their maples, the sap would 
 run in the shape of hot coffee. During his observations, 
 the servant announced Dr. Sandoval. 
 
 When Sandoval entered, he was rather startled to see 
 the two leaders of the Phlebotomist party ; but, after 
 greeting Irene politely, he bowed stiffly to them, and con- 
 cluded to remain. 
 
 " Have you heard anything further about your aunt. 
 Miss Hammer.'" asked Sandoval, maliciously. 
 Nothing," replied Irene, with some emotion. 
 
M/SS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. I S S 
 
 "The Government is conducting negotiations," said 
 Knox, with dignity. " We shall soon be able to take defi- 
 nite action." 
 
 " It is high tirne something was done, I think," said 
 Sandoval, to Irene. 
 
 " Miss Hammer is well aware that nothing more could 
 be done than has been done," ^-eplied Knox, winking 
 again at the General, to persuade him to back him with 
 the story of his note to the Venzuelan President. But the 
 General held his peace. 
 
 " It is so unfortunate, too," said Sandoval to Irene, 
 " that Miss Appleby did not have proper medical attend- 
 ance in Cuba." 
 
 " Your method, I suppose, when a person is sea-sick, 
 is to g[ive them squills, or something to make them 
 sicker," said Knox. 
 
 " My method is not to let a person die from sea-sick- 
 ness in two days." 
 
 " You'd kill 'em in one day, I reckon," said Knox. 
 
 " Miss Hammer, you appreciate the absurdity of this 
 kind of talk? Miss Hammer, General, prefers the 
 homoeopathic system,'' said Sandoval. 
 
 " Does she indeed ? " repUed the General. 
 
 " On the contrary, she inclines to the regular school. 
 Do you not. Miss Irene ? " asked Knox. 
 
 " I think," said Irene, '• that my preference is for the 
 eclectic method." 
 
 " The eclectic ? " shouted Knox. 
 
 " It is impossible ! " exclaimed Sandoval. 
 
 " That is the system I intend to study,'' said Irene. 
 
 " Are you going to study ? " asked Knox. 
 
T 5 6 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Not with a view to practise, of course ? " said San- 
 doval. 
 
 " I intend to practise when I receive my diploma." 
 
 " To set up as a physician ? " exclaimed Knox. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " A woman doctor ! Well, who would have beUeved 
 it ? " said Sandoval. 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? " asked Knox. 
 
 " She is," said the General. 
 
 " Well, then, of course," said Knox, with a hysterical 
 augh, " I need go no further." 
 
 "No further in what?'' asked the General, rather 
 fiercely. 
 
 " Well, as I regard a woman practitioner as — as — well, 
 I will not say what — of course, Miss Hammer, all is over 
 between us. I retract my recent offer." 
 
 General Flynn laughed. 
 
 "What are you laughing at?" asked Knox. 
 
 " I don't see anything amusing about it," said San- 
 doval. " My medical society would expel me if I should 
 confess acquaintance with a female physician." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the General, rising and assuming 
 a martial air, " perhaps this had better stop. Knox, you 
 say you withdraw your offer to marry this lady ? " 
 
 "Yes. sir!" 
 
 " Well, as she is already engaged to marry me, that 
 performance appears to be, in a certain sense, superfluous. 
 She wouldn't have you if you were the only man left. She 
 hates you worse than your patients hate your doses of 
 assafoetida " 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. r i; 7 
 
 " Engaged to you ! " shrieked Knox. " Impossible ! " 
 
 " And, Sandy," said the General, " your medical 
 society won't permit you to know her ? Well, sir, for 
 fear that remarkable association should fail to act 
 promptly, I give you notice that the acquaintance is 
 discontinued from this date. Good morning ! By the 
 way, Knox, as you go out, just tell to Mr. Hammer your 
 story about the President of Venezuela, and mention your 
 views about the dimensions of Mr. Hammer's fortune." 
 
 The two physicians gritted their teeth, smiled grimly, 
 bowed politely, and withdrew. 
 
 " Knox," said Sandoval, " this is a queer business." 
 
 "Very!" 
 
 " It means war on the administration, I think." 
 
 " On.you, too." 
 
 " Wouldn't it be a good idea to tie together ? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 "Here's my hand!" 
 
 " And here's mine ; and we'll stand shoulder to 
 shoulder in the fight against Flynn, women doctors, and 
 the eclectic system ! " 
 
 General Flynn nudged up close to Irene when the 
 visitors had gone, and as he took her hand, he said, 
 
 " Well, that's a good riddance, anyhow. I knew they 
 wouldn't like your studying medicine. There is not 
 enough work for tHem, as it is, and there'd be less if there 
 was a doctor that cured instead of committing murder ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid they are very angry, Terence ; perhaps 
 they will do us some harm ? " 
 
 " Not unless they can persuade us to take some of 
 their medicines, and we are far too intelligent for that." 
 
igS MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 Mr. Hammer came in, and the General explained the 
 situation to him. He laughed, but presently, becoming 
 grave, he said, 
 
 " But, Flynn, how about my taxes ? Knox wiU be sure 
 to try to collect them for all the back years, as soon as he 
 returns to his office." 
 
 " We can settle that easily enough." 
 
 " How ? » 
 
 " Why, let's have another revolution ! I'll pronounce 
 for you, and promise the country that as soon as you are 
 President you will bring Venezuela to terms ; then you can 
 knock off your own taxes. I will be your son-in-law, and we 
 can keep this Government running as a kind of a nice 
 little family affair." 
 
 Mr. Hammer liked the project, and he agreed to it. 
 In the morning, General Flynn issued a proclamation 
 in which he declared Knox deposed from the Presidency 
 as a traitor, in consequence of his neglect to avenge the 
 wounded honour of his country. Mr. Hammer was 
 announced as his successor, and in a general order to the 
 army, Irene Hammer was promoted to the position of 
 Surgeon-General of the Forces. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances. General Flynn would 
 have carried the army with him, but as soon as the news 
 spread among the men that Hammer's success meant 
 actual war with Venezuela, quite one-lialf of the entire 
 force mutinied and went over to Knox and Sandoval. 
 Among the seceders were all the brigadier-generals but 
 Tejada. General De Campo said that he liked Flynn 
 well enough, but he would never accompany an army upon 
 a campaign in summer time unless there was ice-cream in 
 
MISS HA J[fMER'S LOVERS. 159 
 
 the commissary department. General Curculio said that 
 if Venezuela had some other name he would fight her to 
 the last gasp, but he had sworn, when he was a boy, 
 never to conquer a country that spelled its name with a V. 
 Colonel Grambo was actually hungry for a fight, but he 
 was reading a serial story in a magazine, and he couldn't 
 bear the idea of going to Venezuela, lest he should miss 
 one of the numbers. 
 
 The half of the army that remained faithful to General 
 Flynn did so because the men knew that the General had 
 a habit of making his revolutions successful, and they 
 preferred being upon the side that controlled the pay- 
 rolls and the supplies. 
 
 On the following day General Flynn sent a note to 
 Knox, commanding him to surrender his office. Knox 
 kicked the messenger down the Executive stairs. Then 
 Flynn wrote another note, saying that he should move on 
 the enemy at once. 
 
 General Flynn's half of the army was put under arms 
 promptly, and in a few moments it moved in from the 
 barracks towards the town. The Knox and Sandoval 
 army were discovered drawn up in line of battle behind a 
 post-and-rail fence just outside the town. 
 
 When General Flynn saw it, he halted his force, and 
 threw out four skirmishers toward the foe. The skir- 
 mishers advanced twenty feet, but as the Government 
 force actually aimed at them with muskets, they fell back 
 suddenly in disorder upon the main line 
 
 General Flynn then rode bravely to the front, and 
 commanded the enemy to surrender. In reply, Colonel 
 Carboy, one of Knox's aids, threw an old boot at him. 
 
1 60 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 
 
 The General resolved to give battle at once. Riding back 
 to his line, he showed the enemy to his men, and ordered 
 them to charge bayonets and take the position. Not a 
 man stirred. " Then fire at them !" shrieked the General 
 
 Instantly every musket was discharged, and instantly 
 the Government army arose from behind the fence and 
 fled. Then Flynn's army dashed forward and secured 
 itself at the fence. A moment later Knox's army fired a 
 volley, and at once Flynn's heroes fell back to their own 
 line. 
 
 These brilliant mancEuvres were continued for several 
 hours ; and the fence was held by each army eleven suc- 
 cessive times. The war began to be somewhat monoto- 
 nous, and General Flynn resolved to execute a flank move- 
 ment. He had just issued the necessary orders, when 
 the booming of cannon fell upon his ear. There was 
 heavy firing for several minutes, and both armies received 
 such a scare as they had never before experienced. 
 Scouts sent to the top of an adjacent hill returned with 
 the startling report that a Venezuelan frigate was in the 
 harbour bombarding the town. No sooner was the an- 
 nouncement made, than the two armies arose simulta- 
 neously, and fled towards the interior, making the best 
 speed ever known in military operations in that region. 
 
 General Flynn was left alone upon the field of battle. 
 He felt discouraged, and naturally so. Sitting down upon 
 a log, he picked up a piece of brick and began to sharpen 
 his sword, when he heard sounds that indicated a woman 
 in distress. Proceeding to a neighbouring thicket, he 
 found Surgeon-General Irene Hammer, -kneeling beside 
 an open case of surgical instruments, sobbing. 
 
}?,y.i^paj-. 
 
 " ' I think it's real mean,' said Irene." — Page 162. 
 
 II 
 
1 62 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 " Why, ffly darling, what is the matter ?" 
 
 " I think it's real mean ! " said Irene, crying harder. 
 
 " Mean, my angel ? What is mean ?" 
 
 " Why, that nobody is wounded ! You've been fightin? 
 nearly all day, and thel-e is not even a man with a scratch 
 to put court-plaster over ! I didn't expect such treatment 
 as this." 
 
 " I am very sorty, pet, but I couldn't help it." 
 
 " What's the use of having a Surgeon-General," said 
 Irehft, looking up with tearful eyes, " if nobody gets 
 hurt ? I don't believe this can be the real kind of war. 
 Napoleon and the Duke of • Marlborough always had 
 Wounded." 
 
 " Yes, but, Ifene,dear— " 
 
 " If you feally loved me, you would at least have had 
 one sabre cut for me to sew Up, or a bullet to probe for. 
 It's a scandalous shame, that's what it is." 
 
 " If you'll forgive me, you shall have the very first case 
 of accident that happens in the town, whether it is a man 
 kicked by a mule or shot with a bullet." 
 
 "Will you promise.?" 
 
 "Yes, on my word of honour! And, Irene?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " If that frigate out there really did shell the town, 
 perhaps there may be something for you to do, as it is — 
 somebody blown in half, or splintered up, somehow ? " 
 
 " Suppose we go right in to see if there is ?" 
 
 " Very well. The armies have fled, and I am going 
 to meet the invader alone. The Commander-in-Chief is 
 bound to do his duty, at all hazards! The cowardly 
 rascals ! " 
 
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS. 1 63 
 
 The General helped Irene to mount her horse, and 
 when he had leaped into his own saddle, the two galloped 
 toward the town. As they entered the main street, they 
 were surprised to see the flags flying, and the city in gala 
 attire. The General could not imagine what was the 
 matter. With his companion he pressed on toward the 
 Executive mansion ; but when he approached it he was 
 startled to see a guard of foreign soldiers drawn up in 
 line before the door. His first impulse was to retreat, 
 but just then he perceived Mr. Hammer, now President 
 Hammer, leaning from a window, and with smiling face 
 beckoning the General and Irene to come to him. 
 
 " Well," said the General, " it is the queerest thing I 
 ever encountered ; but as your father wants us to go, I 
 reckon we had better do so ! " 
 
 " Of course,'' said Irene. 
 
 As they rode up, the guard presented arms, and the 
 General, helping Irene to alight, escorted her up the 
 stairs. As they entered the President's room, Mr. Ham- 
 mer greeted them, and said — 
 
 " Ah ! glad to see you ! You have just come in time. 
 Let me introduce you to President Maracaybo, of Vene- 
 zuela ? Mr. President, my daughter ! General Flynn, 
 the Commander-in-Chief of our army ! " 
 
 " Delighted to meet you," said President Maracaybo, 
 as he shook hands with the General and Irene. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Irene. 
 
 " Gives me much pleasure, I assure you !" said the 
 General. " Only I don't quite understand the— the — " 
 
 ■'Of course you don't," said President Hanmier, 
 laughing. " His Excellency has come to pay us a long- 
 
l64 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 promised visit, and we propose to give him a hearty 
 welcome." 
 
 " But the cannonading that we heard ?" said Irene. 
 
 " He came in the frigate El C«J/««^or— splendid 
 vessel !" said Mr. Hammer, "and she was firing a salute." 
 
 "Our international complication, then," said the 
 General, "is in a fair way of being arranged?" 
 
 " Bless your soul, man, there is no complication," said 
 Mr. Hammer. 
 
 " How then — what is — how about the — the — that is, 
 how about Irene's aunt ?" demanded the General. 
 
 " Your Excellency must answer that question," said 
 Mr. Hammer, turning to the visitor. 
 
 " Certainly," said the latter gentleman. 
 
 Then he arose, opened the door of the adjoining 
 room, and remarked — 
 
 " My love ? " 
 
 A lady appeared, took his hand, entered the room with 
 him, and lifted her veil. 
 
 It was Sarah Appleby, Irene's aunt. 
 
 Irene uttered a little scream, and fainted. The 
 General turned as white as the wall. 
 
 " You here !" he said. " We thought you were dead !" 
 
 " Is it really you, aunt V asked Irene, faintly, as she 
 opened her eyes. 
 
 " Certainly it is ! Who else should it be? How are 
 you, my child ? I am glad to see you again, I assure 
 you. And, General, you seem to be well, as usual .''" 
 
 " Yes ; but — butr-how do you explain the — " 
 
 " It was all a mistake, sir," said Irene's aunt. " I was 
 not really dead, only in a condition of suspended ani- 
 
AJISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 1 65 
 
 mation — a mere case of catalepsy. I revived the very 
 next morning after they put me in that abominably damp 
 tomb. If I find out who circulated those wicked stories 
 about me floating in the Gulf, I'll pull his nose." 
 
 " Well, Miss Appleby — " began the General. 
 
 " No," interposed President Maracaybo, " not Miss 
 Appleby ! She is now Madame Maracaybo ! She is my 
 wife. Her case interested me so much that I became 
 interested in her. She accepted me, we were married, 
 and here we are '" 
 
 Irene flew into her aunt's arms, and kissed her ten- 
 derly Then President Maracaybo approached, and said— 
 
 " Permit your uncle to salute you, also !" and he kissed 
 her affectionately. He was about to repeat the operation, 
 when the General said — 
 
 " Once is enough, I think, your Excellency,'' and led 
 her away. 
 
 " So you will be at our wedding, after all .'" observed 
 the General to Irene's aunt 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " And I shall dance with you ?" 
 
 "You may, if you can persuade the army band to 
 remain quiet long enough." 
 
 " And I will dance with my niece," said President 
 Maracaybo. 
 
 " I'll make the band play, and stop you, if you do," 
 replied the General, with a look between a smile and a 
 frown. 
 
 The wedding followed within a week, and it was the 
 most brilliant festival ever witnessed in the Republic. All 
 the brigadier-generals were present in full uniform. They 
 
1 66 M/SS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 
 
 swore allegiance to the Hammer Government as soon as 
 they were perfectly sure that the war was over. President 
 Hammer put an end to the revolutionary business, and 
 he conducted affairs with a strong hand. His first act, 
 after the wedding, was to send Knox and Sandoval into 
 perpetual exile. They went to Yucatan, and began to 
 practice medicine with the result that the death-rate of 
 the country, in a single year, increased a little over fifteen 
 per cent. 
 
WITH A FEW THOUGHTS RESPECTING THE 
 NOCTURNAL SERENADE. 
 
 UR forefathers unconsciously did us 
 a great injury when they clothed 
 the nocturnal serenader with an ajr 
 of romance and poetry, and fixed 
 in thq traditions of the race the 
 theory that a musical performance, 
 such as he offers, is a thing to be 
 desired. In the old, old times, 
 there may have been some justifi- 
 cation for this doctrine. Musical 
 instruments were scarce ; musical 
 skill was rare; the piano had not 
 been created, and the world had 
 yet to note the birth of the monster 
 who was to invent the bass drum, 
 When there was very little music 
 of any kind to be had, that 
 person was excusable who found 
 satisfaction in haying his or her 
 midnight slumber^ disturbed by 
 the tinkling of a lute beneath 
 
l68 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 the chamber window. There was reason for the degla- 
 ration that 
 
 " The gentlest of all sounds are those full of feeling 
 That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing." 
 
 The listener felt a glow of gratitude to the enthusiastic 
 young man who turned out in the cold in doublet and 
 thin tights, and performed for an hour or two, while the 
 dew on the grass sent spasms of rheumatism up through 
 his legs. And it is not surprising that lovers found this 
 the most Certain method of capturing the female heart. 
 The charmer, being sleepy, could not readily determine if 
 he sang flat ; the night being dark, she could not witness 
 the distortions of his face consequent upon his efforts to 
 reach the high notes ; there was nothing to detract from 
 the romantic interest of the occasion, while a certain 
 sympathy, the prelude to affection, was born of her know- 
 ledge that the singer was taking a great deal of trouble 
 for her sake. Those were the days when the nocturnal 
 serenade had a basis of wisdom and strong good sense. 
 But those days have passed, and the serenader is still 
 here. 
 
 We live in an age when no man can inhabit any 
 community without having next door a girl with a piino. 
 If he cannol: satiate himself with her music, he can 
 hammer some out of his own piano, or he can haunt the 
 opera house and concert room. Somewhere, under some 
 conditions, he can obtain during waking hours enough 
 miisic to last him until next morning. The nocturnal 
 serenader, therefore is not a necessity. He is, in fact, 
 an intolerable bore. He supplies something that nobody. 
 
• A boot or a pitcher of water hurled at the minstrel."— '"ff,?e 170. 
 
I70 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 wants, and he forces it on us at a time when we want 
 nothing of any sort but peace and quietness. Moreover, 
 he comes no more in the guise of a solo singer who picks 
 out soft accompaniments upon a lute. If he did appear 
 in such a form, we might have redress. A boot, a 
 cake of soap, a pitcherful of water hurled at such ■ a min- 
 strel would convey clearly to his mind the impression 
 that the audience was ready to have the performance 
 brought to a conclusion ; and if he did not catch the idea, 
 we would call a policeman. 
 
 But the modern serenader always comes with a squad. 
 If he is affluent orespecially enthusiastic, he brings a brass 
 band, special care being taken to entrust the bass drum 
 and cymbals to men of enormous muscular power, who 
 are convinced that they are the only musicians who are 
 really of any importance as contributors to the harmony. 
 At midnight they range themselves upon the pavement 
 beneath the victim's window and begin : 
 
 " So swells each windpipe ; ass intones to ass. 
 Harmonic twang of leather, horn, and brass.'' 
 
 The serenaded man bounces from bed with a dire 
 feeling that Daniel's prophecy concerning the end of all 
 things is being fulfilled, and when he recovers his senses 
 he remembers with indignation that he has perhaps to 
 catch an early train and to perform duties for which the 
 loss of sleep will unfit him. Meantime, several hundred 
 other families in the neighbourhood are awakened by the 
 racket ; good men objurgate, sick people moan and sigh, 
 multitudinous babies rend the air with wild and piercing 
 shrieks, innumerable dogs fill the night with ululations, 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT: 171 
 
 and a quiet neighbourhood is suddenly transformed into 
 a Pandemonium. But the remorseless bass drummer 
 vies with the cymbal player in the vigour of his blows, 
 the cornet utters fiendish blasts, and the E flat horn, 
 mayhap, plays flatter than its inventor ever intended it 
 should. 
 
 This is bad enough. There are few things which are 
 worse than the nocturnal brass band ; and one of the few 
 is the nocturnal glee club. It is the common failing of 
 man to believe that he can do in the best manner the very 
 thing for which nature has specially disqualified him One 
 of the most frequent forms of delusion is that which in- 
 duces a man who can't sing to feel assured that he can. 
 When a young man with a voice like a crow, and an ear 
 that is large enough for everything but music, has such 
 faith, he inevitably drifts into a glee club composed of 
 others like him. Here he is either placed among the 
 basses, where he produces a noise similar to that which 
 proceeds from a bark-mill in active motion ; or he is 
 pushed in among the tenors, where he tries to sing falsetto 
 through his nose ; other misguided youths meanwhile 
 roam about the scale in futile efforts to discover the 
 soprano and contralto parts. 
 
 When the club, by long practice, has fitted itself for 
 its evil work, it selects some unfortunate fellow creature, 
 and determines to serenade him. Then, in the most 
 solemn stillness of the night, it wakes the echoes of a 
 quiet strfeet with a diabolical congregation of discords, 
 the refrain of which, perhaps, in bitter mockery, implores 
 the aroused and enraged listener to " Slumber on in sweet 
 repose," the basses growling while the tenors enlarge 
 
1 7 2 THE GLEE- CL UB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 their nostrils in malignant efforts to make themselves dis- 
 gustingly vociferous. 
 
 If such serenaders as these had lived in the old, old 
 times, vt^hen the wrath of man expended itself in vindictive 
 action, we should have had less poetry upon the subject, 
 and the coroners of the period would have had more 
 business. Unhappily, modern society is constructed in 
 such a manner that a jury will refuse to acquit a serenaded 
 person who fires handsful of bullets into a boisterous glee- 
 club. Thus there is no defence for the peaceable citizen 
 but through the instrumentality of the law ; but the law 
 ought to give him a remedy. One of the first rights of 
 man is the right to peace and quietness at night ; and 
 when we are completely civilized, the fact will be recog- 
 nized, and the officers of law will consign to a dungeon a 
 bass drummer or a nasal tenor who ventures to trespass 
 upon the repose of the sleeping citizen. 
 
 These remarks may serve as an introduction to a brief 
 narrative of two glee-club experiences, in both of which 
 that form of vocal organization really did obtain something 
 like retributive justice. 
 
 Soon after the Orpheus Glee Club of the village of 
 Blank was formed, a proposal was made that a serenade 
 should be given to Miss Peterson, a young lady who was 
 admired by all the members, but for whom the president 
 was known to have a specially tender feeling. 
 
 The proposal was agreed to, and for two or three 
 evenings the club practised with such energy and assiduity 
 as to excite strong discontent among the people who lived 
 in the vicinity of the club- room. 
 
 Upon the appointed night, precisely at twelve, the 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 173 
 
 club sallied forth. It carried neither lamp nor music the 
 members feeling confident that they could depend upon 
 memory to enable them to go properly through the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 After a rapid walk, the residence of Miss Peterson was 
 reached, and the club halted upon the pavement in front 
 of it The windows showed no light of any kind, and the 
 club rejoiced to think that the lovely Peterson would be 
 awakened sweetly from her slumbers by the harmony 
 which it would forthwith produce. The first and second 
 tenors ranged themselves together, while the first and 
 second basses took their appropriate places. 
 
 The leader gave the pitch in a low voice, and the club 
 dashed gallantly into " Sweet be thy slumber, darling." 
 There were four verses, each ending with a chorus. When 
 the piece was concluded, every eye in the club was raised 
 to the windows, to catch the first glimpse of the head of 
 the enchanting Peterson. But she did not appear. There 
 was nothing to indicate that anyone in the house had 
 heard the music so-called. 
 
 "We must put on a little more pressure,"' said the 
 leader. " They don't seem to hear us." 
 
 So the dub tuned up, and presently emitted the 
 words of the song: "Star of the evening, beautiful star.'' 
 The singers filled their lungs bravely, and emptied them 
 vigorously, the tenors trying to drown out the basses, 
 and the basses growling away in such a manner that 
 the tenors hardly considered they had fair play. 
 
 As the final cadence died away upon the midnight 
 air, the club looked to the windows with eager expec- 
 tation, feeling sure that Miss Peterson would give some 
 
174 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 tokpn of delight. But, strange to say, the windows re- 
 mained closed ; and no one appeared. 
 
 •' Maybe she sleeps in a back room," suggested Phil- 
 pott, one of the tenors. 
 
 " No," said the president ; " her little brother told me 
 that her room was that one, there, in the front." 
 
 " She must be a very sound sleeper, then," said the 
 leader. " Let's give her a roaring song, fortissimo, and 
 see if we can't get her up." 
 
 Then the club, taking the pitch, plunged into, " Hail, 
 happy Mom ;" and sang with such vehemence, that it 
 might have been heard miles away. While the perform- 
 ance was proceeding, the singers heard the noise of the 
 lifting of a window-sash, and their eyes involuntarily 
 sought the house. But no ; it was a window of the house 
 next door on the right. From this a head protruded, 
 listening. When the music was hushed, a voice said : 
 
 " Halloa there ! What are you fellows about ? " 
 
 " Singing." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Serenading Miss Peterson.^ 
 
 « Who ? " 
 
 " Miss Peterson." 
 
 The man at the window gave a short laugh and with 
 drew. But Miss Peterson was yet to be heard from. 
 
 " I doh't understand it," said the president, somewhat 
 mystified, " she must have beard us." 
 
 " Mighty queer," said Philpott, " most women are so 
 fond of serenades, too." 
 
 "Let's quit and go. home," remarked Quigg, one of the 
 basses. 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 175 
 
 " Oh, no," quickly rejoined the president. " We ought 
 to give her one more chance. Try her with ' Row, 
 Brothers, Row ! ' and sing it loud." 
 
 The club put all its strength into the song, and in the 
 midst of the 
 harmony ano- 
 ther window 
 was heard 
 opening. A 
 moment later 
 an old boot 
 descended 
 among the 
 singers. They 
 stopped. The 
 missile came 
 from a house 
 upon the left 
 
 side of Peterson's. Before the president could express his 
 indignation respecting the boot, a voice said : 
 
 " Why don't you vagabonds shut up and go home ? 
 It's an outrage for you to be howling out there at this 
 time of night." 
 
 "Mind your own business,'' replied the president. 
 "We're not troubling you. We're serenading Miss 
 Peterson." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Miss Peterson. Go to bed and hush." 
 
 This man also laughed, and said something to 
 another person who was heard to laugh too. The club 
 began to feel angry; especially as none of the Peter- 
 
176 THE GLEE CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 son family appeared to pay the smallest attention to the 
 serenade. 
 
 " One more, and then if she don't come we'll stop " 
 said the president. 
 
 The man at the window laughed again and remained 
 to listen. The club began to sing, "Angels Watch Over 
 Thee!" and it sang with the loud 
 pedal on. But the chorus of the 
 eighth verse died away, and still the 
 bewildering Peterson failed to signify 
 her delight. 
 
 " Give her another one, boys,'' said 
 the man at the window. " Maybe you 
 haven't sung anything she likes." 
 The club was annoyed by the remark, but it scorned 
 to notice such impertinence. 
 
 " I wonder what can be the matter," said Philpott. 
 " Maybe we've got the wrong house," exclaimed Quigg. 
 " Oh, no ! I know the house well enough," replied the 
 president. 
 
 " Well, it's very queer," said the leader. 
 " Is there a door-plate on the door .? " asked Quigg. 
 " Certainly,'' replied the president, "don't you see it 
 That white thing there." 
 
 " Strike a match, and let's look at it," said Philpott. 
 The leader went up the steps, followed by the club. 
 He struck a match. Then every member of the club saw 
 a placard upon which was written in large letters the 
 legend : 
 
 "This House for Rent." 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMl 
 
 177 
 
 The shock was so great that for a moment nobody spoke. 
 Then Philpott said softly : 
 
 "By George, they have moved ! " 
 
 The man 
 at the win- 
 dow then observed : 
 " She heard you 
 were coming, boys, 
 and she packed up 
 and fled ; she has gone into the country for the summer. 
 Probably she will never come back until she hears that 
 you have disbanded."" 
 
 If the club had followed its impulses it would have 
 
178 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 reduced that man to mincemeat at once. But it walked 
 sadly away, and each man went to his own home. 
 
 At the next meeting, a bye-law was adopted providing 
 that no serenade should be undertaken unless an under- 
 standing should first be had with the person to whom the 
 compliment was offered. 
 
 A few months later, what was called " A Glee- Club 
 Tournament" was held in the village, and five oi: six 
 other clubs joined the Orpheus in a singing contest for a 
 prize. 
 
 The performance need not be described. It will be 
 sufficient to say that the memory of that night of horror 
 will linger long in the minds of the peacefully-disposed 
 inhabitants of the town. A committee of expert musicians 
 sat in judgment upon the efforts of the contestants, and 
 its opinions were given a week later in a formal report, of 
 which the following is the conclusion : 
 
 THE REPORT. 
 
 " If the prize had been offered for originality in the 
 treatment of the given themes, we should have no difficulty 
 in deciding to award it to the Orpheus Club. The method 
 of this organization is wholly new to us. The manner in 
 which the tenors kept two beats ahead of the voices that 
 carried the air was of itself surprising, but not more so 
 than the evident belief of the singers that successful tenor 
 singing is achieved by closing the mouth and emitting 
 shrill sounds through the nose. The basses, on the other 
 hand, seemed each" to compose his own part as he went 
 along, thus making the harmony as peculiar as it was 
 amusing. Our prejudices have always been in favour of 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 175^ 
 
 a bass that afforded a full, deep, resonant tone, but if the 
 theory of the Orpheus Club is correct, a bass voice in action 
 should bear a close resemblance to the sound made by a 
 boy who rattles a stick along the palings of a fence. Add 
 to this the fact that the members of the club have no more 
 accurate notion of time than if all of them had been born 
 and educated in eternity, and we reach the conclusion 
 that the Orpheus Club is hardly entitled to the prize. 
 
 " In considering the performance of the Apollo Club, 
 we encounter a formidable difficulty at the outset. We 
 are unable to determine precisely what it was they sang. 
 In the programme, ' Brightji,nd Cheery was the Morn ' 
 was allotted to them, but while part of the Committee 
 think that the music really sung was that of ' Old Hun- 
 dred,' and while another part insist that it was a distorted 
 fragment of Wagner's music, the remainder of the Com- 
 mittee insist that it was really a combination of the two, 
 with here and there brief snatches interpolated from 
 ' Bright and Cheery was the Morn.' The Committee 
 deeply regret the presence of this element of uncertainty, 
 because they are unanimous upon almost every other 
 point. They are confident that the club would become 
 very efficient if it would secure a body of new members 
 who have good voices and know how to sing, and would 
 promptly expel every person at present belonging to the 
 organization, with the exception, perhaps, of the leader, 
 who ought to be retained either as a curiosity, or as a 
 student who needs to learn that the mere frantic bran- 
 dishing of a stick, without regard to rhythm or time, may 
 be profitable as a muscular exercise, but certainly is not 
 valuable in a musical sense. 
 
l8o THE GLEE'CLUB TOURNAMEAT. 
 
 "The Cecilian Club has the gift of power to a 
 remarkable degree. If the purpose of the organization 
 were to produce war-whoops, to vend vegetables and fish 
 in the public streets, or to do duty as a fog-signal upon 
 the coast ; or indeed, if the emotions of the human soul 
 could be expressed in ear-piercing yells, the club would 
 have opening out before it a bright and beautiful future, in 
 which success would surely follow as the reward of 
 earnest effort. But the Committee, wrongfully, perhaps, 
 have yielded to a conviction that when eighteen stalwart 
 young men, each with a capacity for pouring forth from 
 their lungs six hundred cubic feet of air a minute, sing 
 ' Hush Thee, my Baby.' with such vehemence that the 
 refrain may possibly be heard in Peru, the spirit of the 
 composition somehow is missed and the sentiment suffers 
 irreparable injury. We may err in proffering advice, but 
 we feel it to be our duty to suggest that this club will give 
 pleasure in exact ratio with its diminution of lung-force. 
 And, perhaps, it will afford most satisfaction when it learns 
 to sing so that it cannot be heard by anybody without an 
 ear-trumpet. 
 
 "Of the singing of the Orion Club we speak with 
 mingled indignation and regret. Our fathers died for 
 this country. The blood of patriots has made it free. 
 Its soil has been bedewed with the tears of the widows 
 and orphans whose loved ones perished in the struggle 
 to secure our liberties. We have reared a fair fabric of 
 government, and declared our purpose to protect the 
 people in the enjoyment of their rights. And yet we seem 
 to have failed utterly to secure popular happiness and , 
 peaceful repose, because we are confronted with the pos- 
 
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. i8l 
 
 sibility that such organization as the Orion Glee Club may 
 prowl around over our beloved land, rending the air of 
 liberty with shrieks and howls, and assailing the ear- 
 drums of the children of freedom with a diabolical con- 
 gregation of noises of which a Pawnee Indian, charged 
 full with fire water and crazed with delirium, would be 
 asha,med. Of course, we cannot award it a prize ; but 
 we recommend the people who live in the town in which 
 it exists to offer it a large pecuniary inducement to 
 disband. 
 
 '' As for the Mozart Club, its performance was uni- 
 formly of a kind that would have hurried Mozart to an 
 earlier grave if he could have heard it. Its grace notes 
 were disgraceful. It took all the andante passages 
 rapidly, and the lento passages quickly. When there was 
 a slur it sang ^staccato, and where light and vivacious 
 treatment was demanded, it sang as if it were working of? 
 a dirge at a funeral. The ascent of the scale by some of 
 the singers when the music descended, we attribute to 
 the circumstance that some of them held their notebooks 
 upside-down. The leader beat eight kinds of time within 
 seven minutes and the tenors persistently followed the 
 air, while the basses, it is believed, were singing the 
 wrong piece or else were trying to introduce variations 
 of the original music. 
 
 •' Upon the whole, therefore, we decline to award the 
 prize. Where all were so bad, where all displayed 
 ignorance of music quite as dense as that of a deaf and 
 dumb man concerning eloquence, we cannot conscien- 
 tiously give to either a reward of merit. We shall make 
 our experience the basis of an immediate demand upon 
 
1 82 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 
 
 the legislature for the passage of a law making member- 
 ship in a glee club punishable with death, unless a genuine 
 acquaintance with music is obtained beforehand." 
 
 When the clubs read the report they were discouraged, 
 but all of them remain in a condition of boisterous 
 activity, and the legislature has not yet done its duty. 
 
fixm %mk !^urB«$ toa$ Jimuph, 
 
 VERYBODY agreed that Jack Forbes had 
 not been treated fairly. The squire, the 
 clergyman, the c^kling old ladies at the 
 sewing bee, the baker, the milkman, the 
 members of the Cecilian Society — in fact, 
 all the prominent people of Banglebury admitted 
 that the treatment which Jack Forbes had received 
 from Jenny Brown, was the roughest that had ever been 
 inflicted upon a clever young man by a good-looking girl. 
 The whole story was as follows : In May, Miss Brown 
 had come to Banglebury, fresh from a winter's gaiety in 
 the city, where her parents lived. It was whispered about 
 that she was sent to the village to remain with her uncle, 
 Judge Bates, in order to separate her from a youth who 
 had made a deep impression upon her at home. But this 
 was merely a rumour, which seemed to be denied by the 
 light-heartedness and joyous spirits of the fair maiden. 
 
 At any rate, it did not deter Mr. Forbes from falling 
 in love with her, after a very brief acquaintance, and show- 
 
i84 BOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 
 
 ipg her that devoted attention which is the usual method 
 of expressing such a tender passion. 
 
 Miss Jenny received these httle demonstrations as if 
 she hked them ; and although Forbes never could get his 
 courage quite up to the point of declaration, he did not 
 entertain a single doubt of her devotion to him. Night 
 after night, he took her to concerts and lectures, and sing- 
 ing-school, and sociables, dancing and singing with her, 
 and walking home with her in the moonlight and the 
 starlight, with his heart knocking at his ribs as if it was 
 bent upon fracturing them, and his soul so full of tender 
 fear that he could talk of nothing but the most absurdly 
 conmionplace and prosy subjects. 
 
 Of course Forbes behaved very foolishly. He could 
 not reasonably expect Miss Brown to parade around the 
 country with him for ever without having an understand- 
 ing, particularly when the whole village talked about the 
 matter : and Forbes, therefore, had no right to corhplain 
 when Mr. Dulcitt, the new singing master, soon after his 
 arrival in the town, began to trespass in Forbes's baili- 
 wick, and to engage an unpleasantly large share of Miss 
 Brown's time and attention. 
 
 Mr. Uulcitt was a mild young man, with light hair and 
 weak eyes, which were protected by spectacles. He had 
 a room at Mrs. Megonegal's, where he used to practise 
 upon the flute, until the other boarders would rage and 
 tear up and down the entries, and consign Dulcitt and his 
 flute to a place which Dulcitt, we sincerely hope, will 
 never reach, and where a flute, under any circumstances 
 would be entirely useless. 
 
 But Dulcitt's strong point was vocalism. He could 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 185 
 
 sing with such tremendous power that people wondered 
 how he contrived to get so great a volume out of so small 
 a body. A rumour spread about that his legs were hol- 
 low, and constructed like organ pipes, and that he had 
 bellows in his boots. However, he was a good singer — 
 there was no manner of doubt about that ; and when he 
 stood up in front of his class in the town hall, and led 
 them through some spirited chorus, he created so much 
 enthusiasm for himself, that the miserable Mr. Forbes 
 cowered in the back part of the room so angry that he 
 could hardly help along the chorus with that dreadful 
 bass voice of his. 
 
 But his anger was mere good-humour at such times, 
 to the ferocious rage with which he regarded the mild- 
 eyed Dulcitt when he descended from the platform and 
 beamed through his spectacles upon Jenny, as he offered 
 her his arm and swept her past poor old Forbes, without 
 even a glance at his rivaL To make matters worse, every- 
 body in the class understood the situation, and all eyes 
 were turned upon Jack to see how he would bear it. 
 
 Everybody considered Miss Jenny's conduct highly 
 improper. The young ladies thought so because Mr. 
 Dulcitt had neglected them. The young gentlemen 
 entertained the opinion because each man had a private 
 impression that such behaviour would have been justifiable 
 only if Jack had been forsaken for him. 
 
 One cold night in December, the Cecilian Society met 
 to practise some music for a concert which was to be 
 given during the holidays. Dulcitt, and all the members 
 of his singing-school were present. After the rehearsal, 
 Dulcitt and Miss Brown went away arm-in-arm, as usual. 
 
I86 HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 
 
 Forbes decided to bring matters to a crisis that very 
 night. He resolved to watch the house of Judge Bates 
 until Dulcitt and Miss Brown should part at the front 
 door, and then to plunge in and propose to his fair deluder 
 at once. He, lived next door to the Judge ; and so putting 
 his hat firmly on his head, he left the hall and darted 
 quickly around through a back street so that he might 
 reach home before Dulcitt and Jenny arrived. 
 
 As he entered the gate of his front yard and sat down 
 in the darkness of the porch, he..saw them coming slowly 
 down the street. His dog ran up to him and began to 
 caper about and bark ; but Jack forced him to lie down 
 beside him and keep quiet, while his rival approached 
 with his enslaver. 
 
 They came very deliberately and passed by, conversing 
 in such soft tones that the wretched listener could not 
 understand a word. She reached the Judge's door. Dulcitt 
 stood and talked for a while. Forbes meantime shivering 
 with cold and impatient for his departure. But after a 
 little parley, Dulcitt actually went into the house. Jack 
 Forbes groaned aloud ; and then, after giving his dog a 
 kick that sent him howling away behind the house. Jack 
 cleared the fence at a bound and was in Judge Bates's 
 garden. 
 
 The Judge had his library room upon the second floor, 
 and Mr. Forbes had just gotten beneath the window when 
 the lamp was lighted and Miss Jenny appeared in the act 
 of removing her bonnet. It was a mean thing to do, a 
 mean thing even for a desperate lover, but Forbes decided 
 to clamber into the tree that stood by the window so that 
 he might look with his own eyes upon the perfidy of the 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS. AVENGED. 187 
 
 woman to whom he had given his love. After a series of 
 difficult gymnastics, during which he tore his coat and 
 knocked the skin off his hands, he reached a place from 
 which he could peer into the room. Yes, there was Jenny, 
 sitting in front of the fire, and Dulcitt by her side, with 
 his arm on the back of her chair, with his glasses turned 
 full upon her, and his faded eyes gazing at her, just as 
 Jack's used to gaze. Forbes felt his heart sink within 
 him at this spectacle, but he determined to sit on that 
 limb all night if it was necessary, in order to see all that 
 happened, and to ascertain precisely how matters stood. 
 Hardly had he formed the resolution, when Jenny came 
 to the window and pulled down the curtain. 
 
 " It's of no use," said Jack, in despair; and he began 
 to descend the tree, when the door of the house opened 
 and somebody came out It was so dark that Jack could 
 only distinguish a figure which he thought resembled that 
 of the Judge. 
 
 The Judge walked towards the stable whistling, mean- 
 while, to a large dog that accompanied him. Jack had 
 heard the Judge express his determination to procure a 
 dog to protect that very stable. Doubtless this was the 
 animaL 
 
 " But the best thing for me to do will be to keep quiet 
 until the Judge goes in,'' said Jack. To his horror, how- 
 ever, he saw dimly the figure of the dog coming towards 
 the tree, and a moment later the animal stood beneath 
 him barking loudly. Jack thought then he should surely 
 be discovered. But no, strange to say, the Judge walked 
 slowly back to the house and closed the door, leaving his 
 dog under the tree. After barking a few moments more, 
 
1 88 HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 
 
 the brute lay down, and seemed detennined to make a 
 night of it. Mr. Forbes, from his cool and lofty perch, re- 
 garded the indistinct black figure beneathhim with anguish. 
 
 " Good gracious," he said, " suppose the confounded 
 brute should stay there all night ! " 
 
 Then he thought he would wait until the dog got to 
 sleep, and creep gently down without waking him. 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED 189 
 
 Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, with Jack blowing 
 the fingers of one hand while with the other he balanced 
 himself on the limb. He began to descend. But at the 
 very tirst motion the dog leaped up and began barking 
 again. He tried the experiment a second time, and, just 
 as the ferocious brute stretched himself upon the ground, 
 after another demonstration, Jack caught sight of two 
 shadows kissing each other upon the curtain. Then the 
 light was turned out, and presently he ^leard the front 
 door open, and saw Dulcitt dance along beneath the 
 street-lamp, as if he were practising a fandango. 
 
 It occurred to the unfortunate Mr. Forbes to call to 
 him. "But, no!" ejaculated Forbes ; "I will freeze into 
 solid ice first ; hang me if I don't ! " and he stamped on 
 the limb so violently that it roused the dog, who barked 
 savagely. 
 
 " Let us try what kindness will do," said Mr. Forbes, 
 making that peculiar noise which resembles the sound of 
 kissing — a noise which is supposed to soothe a dog but 
 which cannot be written. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! poor old dog ! come here, poor fellow ! '' 
 (Kissing noise again ; then a whistle.) 
 
 But the dog barked more vociferously than ever, and 
 pran*. ed around the tree as if the only boon he wanted in 
 this life was a chance to bite a chop from Mr. Forbes's leg. 
 
 " Here, Pont ! here, old fellow ! (kissing noise again) 
 — come here, old dog ! here, poor fellow ! here. Jack ! " 
 
 More violent demonstrations of blood-thirstiness on 
 the part of the now franctic animal. 
 
 " Here, Jack ! Here ! Rats ! rats ! rats ! ketch 'em, 
 Jack ! " exclaimed Mr. Forbes, with the ingenuity of des- 
 
1 90 ffOlV JACK FORBES iVAS A VENGED. 
 
 pair. Rats were not the game wanted at that moment, 
 apparently, by "Jack." Meditation upon the succulency 
 of Mr. Forbes's calf seemed to have filled him with 
 frenzy, for he capered and howled, and howled and 
 capered, worse than ever. 
 
 " Lie down, sir ! " said Jack, trying a new plan ; "lie 
 down, sir ! keep quiet ! go home ! go home, I tell you ! " 
 and he descended two or three feet upon the tree. This 
 seemed to make the animal more outrageous, for now he 
 leaped up the trunk and tried his very best to get even a 
 nip at Mr. Forbes's boots, barking all the time as if he 
 had been wound up and his vocal apparatus was kept 
 going with a spring. 
 
 So Jack climbed back to the most comfortable place 
 he could find, reluctantly convinced that he should have 
 to stay in the tree until morning. 
 
 He seated himself astride of a limb, with his bark 
 against the trunk, and put his hands in his pockets to 
 keep them warm. Presently the dog became quiet, and 
 Jack sat there looking up at the stars, which seemed to 
 wink at him through the frosty air as if to say, " Got you 
 now, old fellow. Nice fix you're in, isn't it ?" 
 
 Then he began to think about trees in general. He 
 thought of Wm. Penn's treaty tree, and of the picture 
 that he had seen of the proscribed royalist hid in a hollow 
 tree, with a pretty girl giving him food. And he wished 
 Jenny would only come downstairs and hand him some- 
 thing warm and comfortable. He remembered that 
 cheerful anecdote which relates how the 'coon, which 
 was treed by Captain Scott, of Kentucky, promised 
 to come down if the Captain would not shoot, and Mr. 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED 191 
 
 Forbes thought what a lucky 'coon it was to be able to 
 come down when it chose. And there was the old story 
 about Charles the Second hiding in an oak, with the 
 soldiers beneath lookitig for him. Jack thought that he 
 would rather have a whole hostile army encamped under 
 that tree of his, at the present moment, than that infernal 
 dog, which lay there as calm and quiet as if nothing was 
 the matter. 
 
 Then the stars began to dance about in the sky, and 
 to multiply, and Jack caught himself nodding and dream- 
 ing so that once he nearly lost his balance and fell. He 
 had always heard that sleepiness was a symptom of freez- 
 ing to death, so he jumped up and began clambering up 
 and down the branches to keep himself warm. This set 
 the dog to barking again, and it made such a fearful 
 racket that at last Judge Bates flung up his window and 
 threw a missile of some kind at the animal, accompanied 
 with an angry word or two. Jack could stand it no 
 longer ; so he cried out : — 
 
 " Judge ! Judge Bates ! " 
 
 " Holloa ! Who's there ? " said the Judge, nervously. 
 
 " I ; Jack Forbes ; I am up this tree, and I can't get 
 down because of this cbnfounded dog of yours.'' 
 
 " Of mine ? I have no dog,'' said the Judge. 
 
 " Well, at anyrate, there's a ferocious dog here, and I 
 can't get down. I am freezing to death ; actually 
 freezing," said Jack, pathetically. 
 
 " Wait a moment, until I get dressed," said the Judge, 
 closing the window. 
 
 In five minutes or ten, the Judge came to the door 
 with a lantern in his hand, while Mrs. Bates, and Jenny 
 
192 HOW J A CK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 
 
 Brown, and the three servant girls stood at their respec- 
 tive windows, wrapped in shawls, surveying the scene with 
 eager and excited interest. 
 
 The Judge came forward, cautiously, and spoke to the 
 dog. It leaped toward him instantly. The Judge laughed. 
 
 " Why, Jack, this is your own dog," he said. 
 
 " No ! that can't be," replied Jack. 
 
 " But it is, though," said the Judge, convulsed with 
 laughter, and holding the lantern close to the brute. 
 
 It was too true. Forbes, in his nervousness and fear, 
 had mistaken the friendly capers and yelps of the dog for 
 manifestations of ferocity on the part of son.e other 
 animal. 
 
 Mr. Forbes slid down from the tree hastily, but sadly ; 
 and while he explained the whole matter frankly to the 
 Judge, begging him to say nothing about it, the Judge 
 laughed so violently that Mrs. Bates and Jenny came 
 running downstairs, thinking he had a hysterical fit. And 
 Mr. Forbes climbed over the fence hurriedly, and went 
 shivering to bed, without even saying good-night to the 
 family. 
 
 It was useless to try to keep the matter quiet. It was 
 absurd to suppose the Judge would neglect to tell such a 
 good story. But if he had remained silent, it would have 
 been of no use ; for Mrs. Bates, and Jenny, and the 
 servants, each related it to a different circle next day. 
 And so everybody in Banglebury knew about it before 
 another sun had set, and Jack had fun poked at him 
 everywhere he went Even in the Singing Society those 
 who had at first given him their sympathies turned against 
 him, and laughed at Dulcitt's jokes upon the subject 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 193 
 
 Jack went downstairs and swore an awfiil oath that he 
 would be revenged. But how ? Assassination of Dulcitt, 
 with a butcher-knife, in a dark corner, some night, sug- 
 gested itself; or the intermixture of bug poison with Mrs. 
 Megonegal's hash, or hurling Mr. Dulcitt into the river ; 
 or blowing out his brains with a pistol — aU occurred to 
 him, but he gave them up as promising unpleasant conse- 
 quences to himself. Then he thought he would smash 
 Mr. Dulcitt's spectacles with his fists ; he pondered upon 
 horsewhips, and considered their relative severity to clubs 
 and canes. He went home and retired to bed, trying to 
 decide precisely which would be the best method of 
 making Mr. Dulcitt suffer. 
 
 He had hardly touched the pillow before an idea 
 struck him. He remembered a curious incident that he 
 had read in one of Jean Paul's stories ; and he felt certain 
 that he had found what he wanted. He was so much 
 pleased that he leaped from bed, and executed a fandango 
 upon the floor with so much energy that Mrs. Megonegal 
 sent a servant up to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, 
 and to request "' less noise." Then Forbes turned in 
 again with mingled feelings of joy and bliss. He felt a 
 good deal mortified when he thought of that wretched 
 adventure in the tree, and of the publicity that had been 
 given to it. He experienced a kind of ferocious joy as he 
 reflected upon the manner in which he would bring that 
 wretch, Mr. Dulcitt, to grief. 
 
 The next evening the grand concert was to come off. 
 
 The Cecilians assembled early upon the platform, with 
 
 music-books in their hands, eager to begin. Dulcitt 
 
 strutted about, busily important, giving whispered direc- 
 
 13 
 
194 HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 
 
 tions, arranging the singers, distributing music, and making 
 his spectacled self very conspicuous. 
 
 The hall was crammed absolutely full. The people 
 occupied the very window-sills ; while certain small boys, 
 filling the gallery, yelled at each other, and stamped in 
 rhythm upon the floor. In the very front of the audience 
 sat Mr. Forbes, where he could be seen by every singer 
 upon the stage. He looked very grave, and in answer to 
 numerous inquiries, he said that he felt rather unwell, and 
 believed he would not sing this evening. Dulcitt con- 
 gratulated himself in getting rid of a man who, as he said, 
 " made a noise like a rip-saw, when he tried to sing." 
 
 The first piece upon the programme was the Hallelujah 
 Chorus. Mr. Dulcitt seized his baton, and ascended to 
 the leader's stand ; he tapped once or twice, and the very 
 small band played a small overture in a very small sort 
 of way. Then the chorus dashed into the magnificent 
 music, singing it bravely, while Dulcitt, with his back to 
 the audience, beat time with both arms and his head. 
 
 When the chorus got fairly under way, Mr. Forbes 
 dived into his overcoat pocket, and produced a huge 
 lemon. Cutting the top off, he made motions to attract 
 the attention of the singers, and having succeeded in 
 getting some of them to look at him, he raised the lemon 
 to his mouth and began to suck it. The effect was in- 
 stantaneous and marvellous. The mouths of those who 
 saw him instantly filled with saliva, and as they made vain 
 attempts to swallow, and to keep along with the music, a 
 series of the most horrible discords was produced, so that 
 Dulcitt grew frantic, and danced and beat more violently 
 than ever. The strange interruption excited surprise in 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 195 
 
 the minds of those who had not seen Jack, and they lifted 
 their eyes from the music to ascertain the cause. When 
 they saw the lemon, the same result was produced ; and, 
 in a minute, the whole chorus was upset, knocked out of 
 tune and time, and at last brought to a stand still. 
 
 The audience was amazed. Dulcitt, red in the face, 
 turned around, and seeing Jack hard at work at his 
 lemon, comprehended the situation in a moment. Re- 
 covering himself, he determined to defy his enemy. 
 Directing the singers not to look at Forbes, he began 
 again. But it would not do. Every man and woman 
 knew Jack's lemon was there, and they all found it impos- 
 sible to get rid of the thought or to stop the fiUing of their 
 mouths. The flute-player found his instrument swamped ; 
 the clarionet was water-logged ; the trombone dripped ; 
 the hautbois and the comet were fUiled with moisture. 
 Three or four spurts were made by the orchestra, and a 
 phrase or two was attempted by the chorus ; but the 
 result was horrible. The audience hissed ; the young 
 men on the front bench, seeing Jack's manoeuvre, laughed ; 
 the boys in the gallery whistled like miniature locomo- 
 tives. 
 
 At last, beside himself with rage, Dulcitt leaped from 
 the platform, and rushing up to Jack, struck him in the 
 face with his baton. Mr. Forbes responded promptly 
 with his fist, shattering Pulcitt's spectacles to atoms. 
 Then they grappled, and after rolling around among the 
 benches on the dusty floor for some minutes, they were 
 separated. Dulcitt, red and bleeding, shook his fist at 
 Jack, and, struggling with those who held him, said 
 breathlessly : 
 
' Dulcitt shook his fist at Jack." — Page 195. 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 197 
 
 "This is not the last of the quarrel. Pistols, you 
 know — you've got to fight— to fight — death, you know — 
 death — death — death!" yelled Dulcitt, as he was dragged 
 away by his friends. 
 
 Jack smiled contemptuously, but said nothing until 
 Dulcitt had departed; then, as the half-angry, half- 
 amused audience slowly dispersed, Jack deigned to give 
 some explanation of the difficulty. He had fairly turned 
 the tables on his enemy : and disappointed though they 
 were at the failure of the concert, the people laughed, and 
 agreed to forgive him for the ingenuity of his revenge. 
 
 Jenny Brown sat on the platform, cool, silent, and 
 indifferent, until a strange young man, whom Jack had 
 never seen, climbed up by her side and spoke to her. 
 She coloured a little, seemed pleased, and finally rose up 
 and went out with him. 
 
 Jack marched home in triumph, worried about Jenny, 
 and yet exultant over the success of his pleasant little 
 scheme. 
 
 His joy was short-lived. Hardly had he reached the 
 house, when a friend of Mr. Dulcitt's called, and after 
 explaining that he came upon a disagreeable errand, 
 handed Forbes a note. It was a challenge from Dulcitt. 
 
 " TeU him," said Jack, with an air of defiance, " that I 
 will meet him at seven to-morrow morning, in Duby's 
 Woods. Weapons, pistols ! " 
 
 Mr. Dulcitt's second withdrew, and Jack went upstairs 
 to bed. ' While he was undressing, he began to think 
 about it. Was it worth while after all to fight that idiot 
 for a girl ? — for a girl, too, who very likely cared nothing 
 for Mr. Forbes, ant^who might only be flirting with 
 
198 HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 
 
 Dulcitt, to test Jack's devotion to her ? Pistols, too ! it 
 was deuced unpleasant : somebody might get hurt. 
 Suppose he should put a ball through old Dulcitt, and be 
 arrested and hung for murder ? Worse than that ; what 
 if Dulcitt should blow Jack's brains out on the spot ! It 
 wasn't nice to consider such a probability. What good 
 would any girl be to him if his . brains were blown out ? 
 Why, none at all. It was all confounded foolishness. 
 Better remain a bachelor his whole life, than die like a 
 dog at seven o'clock in the morning, by the hand of a 
 weak-eyed singing-teacher. 
 
 " I'll be hanged if I'll do it," said Jack, as he got into 
 bed. " I won't go. I'll pack up and leave town by the 
 six o'clock train, and write a note saying that I had to go 
 to the city on important business. I'd be a fool to fight 
 such a fellow as Dulcitt, anyhow. I'm not going to make 
 a target of myself for any man or woman either,'' ejacu- 
 lated Forbes, as he turned over and tried to go to sleep. 
 
 But in vain Haunted by thoughts of the dufl, of the 
 danger on one hand, and the disgrace on the other, Jack 
 passed the night without a moment of repose. It was 
 not pleasant to picture Dulcitt and his friends upon the 
 ground, waiting for him with sanguinary impatience, until 
 the hour passed, and then coming into town to post him 
 as a coward. But Jack thought he would rather look 
 upon this picture than upon that other, which showed his 
 lifeless remains extended upon the ground, and soaked 
 in gore. 
 
 So at five o'clock he got up, dressed himself, crammed 
 a few things in a satchel, and stole softly downstairs. 
 When he flung open the hall-door, the street was so dark, 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 199 
 
 and cold, and desolate, that Jack felt very forlorn and 
 miserable, and was half inclined to stay at hoine and 
 brave the shame that would be heaped upon him for his 
 cowardice. After a moment's hesitation, however, he 
 closed the door gently, and crept down the street, with as 
 much dread of being observed by the early risers, as if he 
 were a criminal fleeing from justice. 
 
 As he came near to the railroad station, the lights and 
 the glow of the 
 warm fire in 
 the depot looked 
 so cheerful and 
 comfortable that 
 Jack's heart 
 grew lighter,and 
 he thought that 
 upon the whole 
 it was a good 
 thing he had 
 come. He walk- 
 ed briskly upon 
 the platform, opened the door of the waiting-room, and 
 entered. 
 
 There was one other passenger going by the early 
 train ; he was sitting on the other side of the stove, with 
 a carpet-bag by his side. His heactwas bowed down and 
 rested upon his hands. His elbows were upon his knees. 
 Jack got close to him before he looked up. 
 
 It was Dulcitt, bent upon the same errand as Jack's 
 own. 
 
 When Dulcitt saw Jack, he started to his feet, stepped 
 
200 HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 
 
 back a pace, and grew very red in the face. Jack also 
 retreated and blushed. Dulcitt was the first to recover his 
 presence of mind. He determined to make what profit 
 he could from the situation. 
 
 " So, you scoundrel, you are trying to run away, are 
 you ? " he said to Jack. 
 
 " No, I am not," Jack replied — " no, I'm not. I heard 
 that you were scared to death, you coward, and intended 
 to bolt, and I came here to stop you.'' 
 
 " That's a lie ! " exclaimed Dulcitt ; " you never heard 
 anything of the kind. I expected you would try to escape 
 my vengeance, and so I determined to block your game." 
 
 " You didn't, you blackguard," replied Jack ; « you 
 were running away, for you've got your valise with you." 
 
 " So have you got yours," said Dulcitt. 
 
 Jack coloured deeply, and looking at his carpet-bag, 
 said in a hesitating voice : 
 
 " I— I — know— I— well, I've got my pistols in it." 
 
 "All right, then," said Dulcitt, fiercely, "let's go out- 
 side and fight now." 
 
 Jack was stunned for a minute, and then he said : 
 
 " No, I won't, either ; if I do anything I'll kick you, 
 you miserable cur." 
 
 "Then you're a mean, dastardly scoundrel," yelled 
 Dulcitt, in a frenzy, shaking his fist in Jack's face. 
 
 Before Jack ha4,a chance to reply, the door of the 
 room opened, and in walked Jenny Brown, accompanied 
 by the strange young man who leaped upon the platform 
 upon the evening of the concert. 
 
 Forbes was bewildered. 
 
 Dulcitt was stupefied. 
 
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 201 
 
 Jenny gave a little scream as she beheld her two 
 victims, and very likely would have fainted but for the 
 promptness of the strange young man, who put his arm 
 around her instantly. When she had recovered, she 
 looked at Forbes and Dulcitt for a few minutes, and then, 
 comprehending the situation, burst into a fit of hearty 
 laughter. The strange young man smiled, but the two 
 duellists looked very glum and surly. 
 
 At last Miss Jenny went up to them and said : 
 
 ■' Well, gentlemen, as there is no help for it, I must 
 take you into my confidence and trust to you not to betray 
 it. This is Mr. McFadden, the gentleman to whom I am 
 to be married this morning. I have been engaged to him 
 for several months, and I regret to say I am obliged, after 
 all, to marry him without the consent of my friends. 
 May I hope that you will keep this matter secret for a 
 time?" 
 
 " Miss Brown, deeply as I regret to learn this from 
 you, I can assure you that I shall regard your wish as an 
 obligation," said Dulcitt, bowing sadly. 
 
 Jack Forbes gulped down a big sob and then, with a 
 faltering voice, said : 
 
 " I won't tell either, but I don't think this is exactly 
 the right thing, and I don't think you have treated me 
 fairly. What did you lead me to believe that you loved 
 me for, say ? " 
 
 Before Jenny could reply, Mr. McFadden stepped up 
 and said : 
 
 " See here ! none of that, you know ! If you talk in 
 that manner to this young lady, you know, I'll punch youi 
 head, you know ! " 
 
202 HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 
 
 As Mr. McFadden appeared to be equal to the task of 
 fulfilling his threat, Jack turned away in gloomy silence 
 and went home again, and Dulcitt followed him. 
 
 As they walked down the street. Jack halted until 
 Dulcitt caught up to him, when he said : 
 
 " I say, Dulcitt, let's make it up ?" 
 
 " All right," said Dulcitt, extending his hand. 
 
 Jack shook it heartily, and looking his late enemy in 
 the eye, remarked : 
 
 "And I think, perhaps, it would be better if neither of 
 us said anything about this matter 1 " 
 
 " I think so, too," observed Dulcitt, " decidedly." 
 
 " For to tell you the honest truth," said Jack Forbes, 
 " she isn't much of a girl anyhow, and I wouldn't fight for 
 her." 
 
%tumt yimukitn^ ||fli]^ar-tn-|f»ut, 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR MOTHERS-IN-LAW 
 GENERALLY. 
 
 |.H E mother - in - law 
 has not had fair 
 play She suffers 
 with the widow and 
 the old maid, but 
 she has been more 
 cruelly abused, 
 more mercilessly ri- 
 diculed than either. 
 Like them, she is 
 not responsible for 
 her condition, but, 
 unlike them, the 
 man who complains the most about her is he who 
 elevated her to the position she holds — namely, the man 
 who married her daughter. 
 
 She has been the subject of countless brutal stories. 
 
204 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 myriads of offensive jests, and quantities of sarcastic 
 rhymes. ' Into all of these has entered an element of 
 bitterness which does not appear in the jibes that are 
 hurled at the widow and the spinster. 
 
 Malice is the inspiration of the assaults upon the 
 mother-in-law. Perhaps it is savagery born of a sense of 
 detected guilt — guilt which has been hidden from the too 
 confiding wife, but detected promptly by the penetrating 
 eye of the mother-in law. She is not blinded by love for 
 the man; she is ihade vigilant by love for the wife, and 
 to perfect clearness of vision she adds that large and 
 generous experience of the methods of devious and de- 
 ceitful husbands, which enables her at once to laugh to 
 scorn the hypocrisy which attempts to excuse late hours 
 upon the plea of business, or to offer the claims of the 
 lodge in explanation of absent evenings that are spent in 
 conviviality. 
 
 For men who are guilty of such crimes, the mother-in- 
 law operates as a kind of second conscience She is an 
 agent of the moral law to convey reproof; perhaps to 
 execute vengeance. In such a character she deserves 
 respect. The sinner who quails beneath her majestic 
 glance of course does not like her. Neither does the 
 thief like the halter. But for the part she plays in the 
 economy of the universe she is entitled to the reverence 
 of the good. 
 
 There are diversities of mothers-in-law, as of all other 
 things ; and it does happen sometimes that a worthy and 
 well-conducted man finds himself subjected to a mother- 
 in-law who is a real affliction. But all things are wisely 
 ordered in this world. All the saints have been made 
 
JEROME PINNICKSOirS MOTHER-IN-LAW. 205 
 
 perfect through suffering. The thorn in the flesh some- 
 times points the way to celestial joys. A terrific mother- 
 in-law may be good for discipline. She should be regarded 
 very much as an ascetic regards a hair-cloth shirt : as 
 something which subdufes the body with the intent to 
 purify the spirit. She is hard to bear, of course, but so 
 are all the trials of life ; and yet if life had no trials no- 
 body would ever want to get to heaven. 
 
 There may be men who, when they join the church 
 triumphant, will be largely indebted for their felicity to a 
 fearful mother-in-law. Let them submit themselves to 
 her now, with cheerful resignation, looking upon her as a 
 possible conducer to a blissful hereafter. 
 
 It is worthy of notice that the mother-in-law is never 
 spoken of with disrespect in the Bible. Ruth, the most 
 charming woman in the Old Testament history, obtained 
 a husband and an immortality of admiration because she 
 loved her mother-in-law and treated her kindly. One of 
 the signs of the troublous times that are to come upon the 
 earth will be that the daughter-in-law will be against her 
 mother-in law. Possibly we may attribute the fall of man 
 to the fact that Adam had no mother-in-law to look after 
 him and his wife and to warn them, as the efficient 
 inother-in-law always will, against doing wrong. Solo- 
 mon was the wisest man that ever lived, and he had seven 
 hundred mothers-in-law, unless some of his wives were 
 orphans, and there is not a reproachful word concerning 
 them in any of his writings. The modern man who has 
 but one, and who growls about her, ought to consider this 
 and refrain. 
 
 The chances are that most of the men who make com- 
 
2o6 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 plaint are in fact under serious obligations to the women 
 whom they dislike. A good mother-in law in a house is 
 really a well-spring of pleasure to a properly constituted 
 husband. She is assiduous in taking care of the baby, 
 and the serviceableness of her knowledge concerning the 
 most effective methods of carrying the infant through 
 criticial periods, the efficiency with which she dispenses 
 
 paregoric, measures out ipe- 
 cac, and compounds spice- 
 plaisters, fills the minds of 
 just men with sentiments of 
 admiration and thankfulness. 
 The average mother-in- 
 law is an over-match for the 
 wiliest hired girl of the 
 period. She knows all about 
 the proportion of soap to the 
 week's washing, and she has 
 some occult power which 
 enables her to detect an un- 
 naturally low tide in the 
 sugar bucket. In a sick 
 room she is a ministering 
 angel, and when the agonies 
 of house-cleaning attack the dwelling she is worth as 
 much as two servant girls and a coloured man. 
 
 It is the fate of her sex to be misrepresented. It is a 
 part of the cruel law which maintains the subjection of 
 woman that the mother-in law should be vilified con- 
 tinually. But she suffers and is strong. Who ever heard 
 of a mother-in-law rushing into print with abuse of her 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 207 
 
 son-in-law ? And if mothers-in-law should retaliate how 
 mightily could they prevail ! If every mother-in-law 
 should relieve her mind by telling what she knows of her 
 persecutor, probably many men of fair reputation would 
 have to take much lower seats in the social synagogue 
 than those that they occupy at present. 
 
 Jerome Pinnickson had a mother-in-law who was filled 
 with deep anxiety to escape the reproach that attaches to 
 the women of her class as a rule. 
 
 As soon as her daughter was married to Pinnickson, 
 and it was arranged that Mrs. Carboy — Mrs. Pinnickson's 
 mother — was to come to live with her child, Mrs. Carboy 
 said : 
 
 " Helen, dear ! I am very desirous that Jerome shall 
 not regard me as most men regard their wives' mothers, 
 and I am determined to try very hard to make myself 
 agreeable and to do what I can to make Jerome love me." 
 
 " I know he will, mother." 
 
 " I hope so, Helen. Most mothers-in-law are so soli- 
 citous for their daughters' welfare that they forget the 
 rights of the husbands, and the result too often is that 
 they come between husband and wife and cause trouble 
 and dissension." 
 
 " But you won't do that, I am certain." 
 
 " No, Helen, I trust not. I have made up my mind to 
 devote more attention to Jerome than to you ; to show 
 myself eager to make his home happy, to anticipate every 
 want, and to pay him those little attentions for which men 
 are always so grateful. Ah ! my dear, your poor pa used 
 to say that I was the most thoughtful woman he ever 
 saw; and I did try to be very considerate." 
 
2o8 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Jerome will say the same thing, mother, I am sure." 
 
 And so, upon the first night that Pinnickson went 
 out, as he alleged, " upon business," Mrs. Carboy said to 
 her daughter : 
 
 " Helen, darling, suppose you go to bed. I will sit up 
 and wait for Jerome. I am accustomed to it. A man 
 does not like to come home late at night and find the 
 house dark and dreary and every one asleep. We must 
 try to make it cheerful for Jerome. I will sit here and 
 be ready to greet him with a smile when he comes in." 
 
 So Mrs. Pinnickson retired, and Mrs. Carboy went on 
 with her sewing. 
 
 " Dear Jerome," she said to herself, as she bit off a 
 thread, " how pleased he wiU be to find that I am so eager 
 to make him happy ! " 
 
 Mrs. Carboy sat there, hour after hour, until at last 
 she dozed off in her chair. Just as the clock upon the 
 mantel was striking one, the noise of a key in the lock of 
 the front door waked her, and Jerome came in. She 
 sprang to greet him. He seemed a trifle vexed when he 
 saw her, but when she explained her project to him, he 
 thanked her kindly and bade her good night. 
 
 If some one could have caught the remark that fell 
 from his lips as he went up-stairs, he would have been un- 
 derstood to say ; 
 
 " Detestable old idiot ! I believe she sat up because 
 she was afraid I would not cofee home sober ! She has 
 begun to watch me already." 
 
 But Mrs. Carboy went to bed with an approving con- 
 science, and perfectly happy in the thought that she was 
 a kind of guardian angel to that household. 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 209 
 
 The next time Pinnickson went out alone in the even- 
 ing he said, as he took his hat : 
 
 " By the way, mother, you needn't sit up for me to- 
 night I shall be detained rather late." 
 
 " Dear heart," said Mrs. Carboy to Helen, as the door 
 closed, " he doesn't want to give me trouble. But I will 
 show him that my affection for him makes such a service 
 seem trifling. You can retire as usual, darling, and I will 
 wait for him." 
 
 Jerome was later than usual. He came in a little 
 before two ; and Mrs. Carboy flew to meet him. He was 
 a shade angry, and he said : 
 
 " I thought I asked you not to wai: up for me ? " 
 
 " I know, my son ; but I felt as if I were willing to 
 sacrifice myself for your comfort in spite of your kind 
 protest." 
 
 Then Pinnickson slammed his hat dovm upon the 
 table, tossed his cane on the stand, and went off' 
 saying : 
 
 " I wonder what game the old girl is up to, anyway ? 
 She evidently suspects something." 
 
 When Pinnickson had occasion to stay out the next 
 time, he remarked : " I shall be out very, very late. Per- 
 haps I shall not come in at all. I particularly request 
 that you and mother shall both go to bed at the usual 
 time. Remember, now, I do not want either of you 
 to sit up." 
 
 " How considerate he is,'' said Mrs. Carboy, as Jerome 
 
 shut the door. " He would suffer anything rather than 
 
 cause me trouble. But little does he know the depths 
 
 of a woman's love. You retire, Helen, when you 
 
 14 
 
2IO JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 wish to, and I will stay up and give him a pleasant 
 surprise." 
 
 Late that night Pinnickson opened the front door 
 
 slowly and softly. He crept in ^ 
 
 noiselessly, and shut the door. He 
 
 peeped into the room, and beheld 
 
 Mrs. Carboy dozing away in the 
 
 easy-chair. Upon tiptoe he as- 
 
 " He beheld Mrs. Carboy dozing in the easy-chair."— /"a^c 210. 
 
 cended the stairs, and then he went to bed, leaving her 
 undisturbed. 
 
 About four o'clock in the morning some one poundpd 
 upon his chamber door. 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 211 
 
 " Who's there ? '" asked Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 " I ! your mamma. Do you know, Helen, darling, 
 that Jerome has not come home yet.' I am afraid 
 something dreadful has happened to him." 
 
 Pinnickson was sleepy, but he could not suppress a 
 smile as his wife arose and went to explain to her mother 
 the facts of the situation. 
 
 In the morning, Pinnickson tried to smooth matters 
 over by a shuffling excuse, to the effect that he did not 
 look for Mrs. Carboy, after what he had said about not 
 sitting up, and he was not aware that she was waiting 
 for him. 
 
 " Never mind," said she, with a serene smile, " it 
 makes no difference. Next time I will stay awake, so 
 that I won't miss you." 
 
 Pinnickson looked as if this information did not fill 
 him with joy. In fact, it made him miserable. The 
 thought that he would never, never be able to go out 
 without the certainty that the implacable and indo- 
 mitable Mrs. Carboy was at home counting the minutes 
 of his absence, was exasperating. The most fiendish of 
 mothers-in-law could not have devised anything that 
 would have been more terrible. 
 
 And Mrs. Carboy did not end with this method of 
 torture, in her efforts to make her son-in-law happy. 
 
 " Helen," she said, " Jerome loves neatness and order, 
 and I think we ought to have a good house-cleaning 
 every month or two, just to please him. Nothing, my 
 child, makes a man so contented and happy as to find his 
 home a model of cleanliness and comfort." 
 
 And so Mrs. Carboy and Helen began the good work, 
 
212 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 and when Jerome came home he found the ironing-blanket 
 over the piano, the carpet up from the hall, the chairs on 
 top of the sofas, the hat-rack in the back porch, his coats 
 and boots stuffed away in a strange closet, and the house- 
 hold things generally in a pitiable condition of demorali- 
 zation. He complained to his wife, and she said : 
 
 " Mother wanted to do it She says we ought to have 
 a good house-cleaning every month or two, so as to make 
 home happy and comfortable for you." 
 
 " She said that, did she ? Your mother said that ! 
 Helen, tell your mother that the next time I come home 
 and find such happiness as this, either she or I will nave 
 to seek for happiness elsewhere." 
 
 Then Mrs. Pinnickson began to cry, and when she 
 sought her mother, to cast oh her the burden of her woe, 
 Mrs. Carboy said : 
 
 " Don't mind it, darling ! Jerome is not well. I have 
 long thought that his liver was disordered. Perhaps he 
 will feel better in ■ the morning. If he does, we will go 
 ahead and tear out the second-floor rooms. I will clean 
 up the library myself, and put his papers away." 
 
 And she did. She arranged the papers on Pinnickson's 
 desk, and " straightened up " everything that was crooked 
 or out of place ; and when the shades of evening fell, she 
 said : 
 
 " Helen, dear, Jerome will be delighted with the library. 
 I wish you would tell him I fixed it. It will make him 
 feel more kindly towards me, perhaps. Don't say any- 
 thing about it until he sees it. We will give him surprise." 
 After dinner, Pinnickson went into the library to write 
 a letter, when the women waited to observe the effect of 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 213 
 
 . the surprise. They heard him using some expressions 
 that seemed to be violent in tone, and presently he opened 
 the door and called, 
 
 "Helen! Helen!" 
 
 Mrs. Pinnickson went to see what he wanted. 
 
 " Helen," he said, " I want to know WHO ON EARTH 
 has been in here meddling with my papers ? " 
 
 " Why, Jerome, I thought—" 
 
 '■ Oh', never mind what you thought. Helen, don't 
 you know that I cannot endure that any one should dis- 
 turb these papers? I have said, over and over again 
 that they were to be let alone." 
 
 " I know, my dear ; but then, arranging them just a 
 little would not hurt them ; and — " 
 
 " Arranging them ! Why, they are turned topsy-turvey 
 — not one is where it ought to be. It will take me hours 
 to find what I want" 
 
 " I am very sorry. I — " 
 
 " But why did you do it ? What possible reason had 
 you for disturbing them .? " 
 
 " Why, you know, Jerome, I didn't do it myself.'' 
 
 " You didn't do it ! What other person had the im- 
 pudence to interfere with my private papers ! " 
 
 " Well, you see, mother said that you — " 
 
 " Your mother ! Is this the work of your mother ? " 
 
 " Yes ; mother said — " 
 
 But before Mrs. Pinnickson could finish the sentence, 
 Pinnickson rushed from the room, grasped his hat, crushed 
 it down on his head, and flew from the house. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Mrs. Pinnickson, after telling her 
 mother of the interview, " that he is very angry." 
 
214 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Not a great deal, I think, darling," said Mrs. Carboy. 
 ■' It will pass off. I will sit up for him as usual to-night, 
 and when he comes in I will explain it all to him, so that 
 he will be satisfied." 
 
 Mrs. Carboy waited patiently that night, thinking of 
 what she would say, when Jerome came home, to assuage 
 his wrath and make him feel that he had indeed a mother- 
 in-law who loved him. 
 
 After a while he entered. Mrs. Carboy met him with 
 a charming smile. She was just about to open a conver- 
 sation, when he dashed past her, ascended the stairs three 
 steps at a time, entered his chamber, and locked the door. 
 
 "Jerome has some business trouble on his mind, dear 
 boy," whispered Mrs. Carboy to herself, as she went to bed. 
 
 " I will have that intolerable old hag assassinated, if 
 there is no other way of getting rid of her, ' said Pinnick- 
 son to himself, as he prepared to undress. 
 
 When the family assembled atiireakfast next morning, 
 Pinnickson was gloomy, and sad, and silent. Mrs. Pin- 
 nickson said, timidly — 
 
 " Are you not well, Jerome, dear ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ! perfectly well ! What do you ask that 
 question for ? " 
 
 " I thought you seemed somewhat indisposed." 
 
 " I thought so, too," said Mrs. Carboy, with a sym- 
 pathizing smile. 
 
 " Well, I'm not," grumbled Pinnickson. 
 
 " Doesn't your head ache ? " asked Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 " Certainly it don't." 
 
 " Haven't you a pain in your chest?" asked Mrs. Car- 
 boy. " I thought I heard you coughing during the night." 
 
yEROME PINNICKSON' S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 215 
 
 " No, you didn't" 
 
 "Hadn't you better take something for it, dear?" 
 urged Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 " Something for what ? " 
 
 " For your cough." 
 
 " No, Helen," said Mrs. Carboy ; " what Jerome 
 wants is a mustard plaster. Jerome, may I make one for 
 you ? " 
 
 Jerome did not reply. He rose slowly from the table, 
 and with a look of intense disgust upon his face he left 
 the room and then the house. 
 
 "Helen," said Mrs. Carboy, when he had gone, 
 "Jerome is suffering, but he has determined to say 
 nothing, for fear of worrying you. Dear soul ! always so 
 thoughtfvd and considerate ! But we must do something 
 to help him. I always put mustard plasters on your pa 
 when he had a pain in his chest." 
 
 " But Jerome wiU not let me put one on him." 
 
 " Then, my child, you have a duty to perform. If he 
 wiU not admit that he is ill, prove to him that you are 
 more careful of him than he is of himself, compel him to 
 assume the plaster. He will love you more dearly for 
 your solicitude for his welfare." 
 
 " How can I compel him to wear it .' " 
 
 "Mix a dry mustard plaster, and sew it upon the 
 inside of his underclothing, a;fter he's asleep to-night. He 
 will never know it until it has had a good effect." 
 
 " I will try the experiment," said Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 Upon the following morning, Pinnickson came into 
 the dining-room in a fine humour. He took his seat, and 
 was just in the midst of an explanation of a transaction 
 
2\(> JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 he had the day before with a business friend, when he 
 suddenly stopped, looked cross-eyed, and a spasm of pain 
 passed over his face. He exclaimed :— 
 
 " I wonder what in the— No, it can't be anything 
 wrong.'' 
 
 " What is the matter, dear ? " asked Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 " I don't know. I felt a kind of pain in my chest ; very 
 queer too. Sort of stings me." 
 
 " I knew you were not well," rejoined Mrs. Carboy. 
 
 " I am sorry,'' said Mrs. Pinnickson. 
 
 Then Pinnickson began again, and he was just telling 
 how his friend, Jones, had met him at a chop-house, and 
 prevailed upon him to go into a speculation with Gagbury 
 and Pittston Railway Stock, when he suddenly dropped 
 the subject, and, jumping up, said : — 
 
 " Goodness ! Halloa ! What's that ? Helen, some- 
 thing dreadful is the matter! I feel as if I had a 
 shovelful of hot coals upon my chest. " 
 
 " Must be the rheumatism getting worse," said Mrs. 
 Pinnickson. 
 
 " Oh no ! It's something a great deal worse than 
 rheumatism," said Pinnickson. " Feels like a fire burning 
 into my flesh. Ouch ! Ow-wow-wow ! It is fearful ! I 
 can't stand it another moment ! I believe it is cholera, 
 or something, and that I am going to die." 
 
 " Do try tc be calm, my son ! " said Mrs. Carboy. 
 
 "CalmT how can a man be calm with a volcano 
 boiling over upon him. Get out of the way, quick ! while 
 I go upstairs and undress ! " 
 
 Then he rushed upstairs and removed his clothing. 
 His chest was the colour of a boiled lobster ; but he 
 
" Calm 1 How can a man be calm — '' — f'age 216. 
 
2l8 JEROME PINKICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 could not imagine what the cause of the inflammation 
 could be, when his eyes rested upon something white upon 
 his shirt. He picked up the garment and examined it. 
 
 Five minutes later he came slowly downstairs with 
 thunder upon his brow and a dry mustard plaster in his 
 hand. His wife met him in the hall. Going up to her, 
 he shook the plaster before her face, and said in a sup- 
 pressed voice : — 
 
 " Did you put that thing upon me ? " 
 
 " I did it for the best, Jerome. I wanted to make you 
 well, and — " 
 
 " Well ! well ! and who said I was sick ? " 
 
 " Why, dear, you know mother thought — " 
 
 " Your mother ! Did your mother put you up to 
 plastering me with this diabolical contrivance which has 
 nearly eaten me to the bone ! " 
 
 " She merely suggested — " 
 
 " Suggested it, did she ! Well, now, listen to me. If 
 Mrs. Carboy ever suggests, or thinks, or does, or dreams 
 any more of meddling with me, I register a solemn vow 
 that I will put her out of this house, bag and baggage, 
 finally and for ever, as soon as I can lay my hands on 
 her. You hear me ! " 
 
 Then Pinnickson rushed out, and slammed the door 
 fiercely, while Mrs. Pinnickson sat down on the lowest 
 stair, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Never mind, Helen," said Mrs. Carboy, who had 
 been listening behind the door of the dining-room ; " he 
 wiU feel better before evening, and then he will be grateful 
 for what you did." 
 
 Pinnickson did not manifest any gratitude, but as the 
 
JEROME PINNICKSOISPS MOTHER-IN-LAW. 219 
 
 inflammation upon his chest passed away, his temper 
 improved, and he became comparatively cheerful and 
 agreeable, even to Mrs. Carboy, for whom, however, deep 
 down in his bosom, he cherished a feeling of resentment. 
 
 A few weeks later, Pinnickson, while sitting with his 
 wife and Mrs. Carboy, one evening, said : 
 
 " My dear, you seem to have given up your piano 
 practice completely. I never hear you playing any now." 
 
 " It is true, Jerome ; I hardly ever touch the instrument. 
 I am busy all day with the household affairs, and I seem 
 to have no time for practice." - 
 
 "Poor Helen is very industrious," observed Mrs. Carboy, 
 
 " But I don't want you to keep the piano always closed," 
 said Pinnickson. " You know how fond I am of a little 
 music." 
 
 " Well, I really must try to pick up my playing again to 
 please you. But I do not know how I can find the time." 
 
 " You must make the effort, dear," said Mrs. Carboy, 
 "in order to oblige your husband. I do wish I could 
 help you in some way. I can't play, but I can sing a 
 little. Perhaps Jerome would like to hear me sing to 
 him in the evening .'' " 
 
 Pinnickson did not express himself frankly on this 
 point; but he threw out a strong intimation that he 
 would choose almost any other fate than that. 
 
 Next morning, when Mrs. Carboy was alone with her 
 daughter, she said : 
 
 " My child, a happy thought occurred to me last night 
 after I had retired. Jerome loves music, and you cannot 
 give it to him. Why not buy him a musical-box, which 
 will play without an effort from anybody ? " 
 
220 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " That would be splendid, mamma," said Mrs. Pin- 
 nickson. 
 
 " I will buy one this very day," added Mrs. Carboy. 
 " I would rather spend all I have, than let Jerome think I 
 do not want to make him happy." 
 
 When Pinnickson went into his drawing room after 
 dinner that evening, a charming musical-box was upon 
 the table, playing beautifully. Pinnickson was delighted ; 
 and when his wife said that it was a present from Mrs. 
 Carboy, he thanked that lady warmly, and really for a 
 moment felt his heart soften toward her. 
 
 He listened to the music for some time with pleasure. 
 The box played four tunes. He heard them each five or 
 six times, and then he said : 
 
 " I guess that is enough fqr to-night, mother. How do 
 you stop it .' " 
 
 Mrs. Carboy said she thought she could show him. 
 But when she had fumbled about the box in a feebly un- 
 certain manner for five or teh minutes, she confessed she 
 did not know how. Pinnickson tried his hand, but with no 
 other result than to accelerate the motion of the cylinder. 
 
 " Oh, never mind ! " he said, at last. " Let it play. 
 We wiU have music all the evening." 
 
 So he sat down, and began to read. The musical-box 
 produced its four tunes in rapid succession. Pinnickson 
 found his mind following them so that he could not fix his 
 attention upon his book. When an hour or two had 
 elapsed, the performance began to grow monotonous; then 
 it irritated him. Finally, he made another effort to stop 
 the machine, but without success. This failure exasperated 
 him. He felt that he could not endure those four dread- 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 221 
 
 ful tunes much longer, and he said so, glancing meanwhile 
 at poor Mrs. Carboy, who sat over by the fire, the picture 
 of distress. 
 
 At last Pinnickson said he should go to bed in pre- 
 ference to going mad over the jangling and twanging of 
 that fiendish contrivance upon the mantel. So the whole 
 family retired, and when Pinnickson got fairly settled in 
 bed, he was indignant to discover that he could still hear, 
 amid the silence of the house, those four maddening tunes 
 reeling off in quick succession. He was furious, and as 
 his anger kept him awake, he got to brooding over his 
 wrongs, and thinking how beautiful is that social system 
 in the Cannibal Islands, which compels a man to put his 
 mother-in-law to death immediately after the marriage 
 ceremony. 
 
 And the musical-box ground out its quartette of melo- 
 dies with almost malignant persistency. 
 
 On towards morning, Pinnickson could endure it no 
 longer. He leaped from bed, ran down-stairs, seized the 
 box and flung it from the window into the yard. He heard 
 it smash, and he gloated over the thought that its musical 
 performances were ended. But they were not. The 
 machinery was disarranged, and all night long it gave 
 queer spurts in which fragments of "Rule Britannia" 
 were oddly entangled with bits of " Hear me, Norma;" 
 and odds and ends of " Robin Adair " came booming out 
 in the most astonishing connection, with suggestions of 
 " Oft in the Stilly Night" And amid the fits and starts 
 of the dislocated music, Pinnickson dozed away into an 
 uneasy slumber, in which he dreamed that Mrs. Carboy 
 was hovering over him trying to play " Robin Adair" on 
 
222 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 the bass drum, while Helen produced the most hideous 
 noises from a trombone twelve hundred feet long. 
 
 The memory of the grave wrong that Mrs. Carboy had 
 done him by means of the musical-box lingered long in 
 Pinnickson's mind, and he sometimes felt that he hated 
 her. But for his wife's sake he suppressed his feelings 
 and tried to treat her in a kindly way. 
 
 Pinnickson's half-bro- 
 ther, a widower, much 
 older than he, had been 
 taking Mrs. Carboy out a 
 good deal in the even- 
 ings, and Pinnickson's 
 heart warmed towards his 
 relative as he realized the 
 blessedness of the relief 
 thus afforded. 
 
 One evening, Mrs. Pinnickson said to him : 
 
 "Jerome, I have some news for you." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " You know mamma ? " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " Well, she is engaged to be married." 
 
 Pinnickson's heart leaped within him. 
 
 " Engaged to be married ? To whom ? " 
 
 " Your half-brother— John Barnby." 
 
 Pinnickson wanted to hurrah, but considerations of 
 propriety restrained him ; so, after a pleasant remark or 
 two upon the subject, he went out upon the porch, and 
 gave expression to his feelings of exultation by various 
 wild and foolish gestures accompanied by quiet laughter. 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 223 
 
 When he returned to the house his wife thought she 
 had never seen him in such excellent spirits. 
 
 A few months later the wedding occurred, and Mrs. 
 Carboy (Mrs. Barnby) went to her new home. That 
 evening, as Pinnickson sat in his parlour with his 
 wife, he felt that his real matrimonial existence had 
 just begun. His mother in-law had ceased troubling 
 him for ever. 
 
 "Jerome, dear," said his wife, "I've been trying to 
 think what relation mamma is to you now." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, it's dreadfully mixed up. I can t for the life of 
 me tell exactly how she is related to you." 
 
 " I never thought much about it" 
 
 " Well, now ; let's see. Your father was my father's 
 half-brother, wasn't he .' " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then my mother is your half-aunt, as well as your 
 mother.'' 
 
 " I s'pose so." 
 
 "And now she has married your half-brother, who is the 
 son of your mother's first husband, and not of your father." 
 
 " Wait a minute. How was that ? " 
 
 "Why, I say that mamma's second husband is the 
 son of your mother's first husband; while mamma's 
 first husband was your father's half-brother. Isn't that 
 right.?" 
 
 " I s'pose it is. It is somehow that way." 
 
 " Very weU, then ; mamma is your mother's daughter 
 now, and consequently your sister ; and yet, how can 
 your sister be your aunt ? " 
 
224 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " My aunt ! My sister be my aunt ! Hanged if I 
 know." 
 
 " Don't you see, my first papa was really your half- 
 uncle ; while my second father is my half-brother ; so that 
 
 — that Well, don't it seera to you that I am somehow 
 
 mamma's half-sister as well as her daughter ? " 
 
 "Well, Helen, to tell the truth, I don't follow you 
 exactly. 1 have a hazy idea, from what you say, that your 
 mother occupies toward me all the female relationships 
 from grandmother down ; but precisely where she stands 
 is the problem that I can't grasp." 
 
 " It isn't clear to me either. But let's go over it again. 
 Your father was my father's half-brother, wasn't he .' " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Well ; my father's wife was my mother, wasn't she } " 
 
 " How was that .■■ Say that again." 
 
 "Why, my father's wife was my mother, and your 
 half-aunt ; and now, that my mother is your sister — " 
 
 " Yes, my sister." 
 
 " Your sister ; my mother is your mother's daughter, 
 and consequently, being also my aunt and your mother- 
 in-law — and — and — let me see, where was I ? " 
 
 "My mother-in-law ! " 
 
 " Yes, your mother in- law. What I wan't to know is, 
 how, being my mother and your half-aunt, and having 
 married your half-brother, tiie son of another half-brother, 
 she could — -" 
 
 " Helen ! " said Pinnickson, with a stern voice, " stop 
 right here ! We will pursue this investigation no fur- 
 ther. We will drop the subject. You will oblige me by 
 never referring to it again in my presence ! 
 
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 225 
 
 " Helen, I do not wish to wound your feelings ; but ever 
 since our marriage I have been kept in a continual con- 
 dition of exasperation by your mother. Unintentionally, 
 perhaps, she has irritated me almost beyond endurance. 
 I have suffered and been strong for your sake, because I 
 loved you. You do not know what I have endured. 
 When your mother left this house, a burden was lifted 
 
 from my soul; I felt once more that I could be happy. In 
 the midst of my joy, you force upon me this frightful con- 
 tindrum about half-aunts and grandmothers, and so on. 
 Considerations of that matter, I feel, will finally dethrone 
 my reason. Your mother, fleeing, has left behind her a 
 legacy of woe. I refuse to aT;cept it. I shall have nothing 
 to do with it. I do not care what relation she is to you, 
 or to me, or to anybody. It is enough for me that she has 
 gone. Let her go. Do not stir her up. Do not agitate 
 15 
 
226 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 her. Let us have permanent repose. I have freed my 
 mind. We will now drop the subject for ever ! " 
 
 And so Jerome Pinnickson's mother-in-law drifted 
 away from that household as a cloud floats from the land- 
 scape from which it has kept the sunlight ; and so, in 
 fine, Pinnickson had peace. 
 
^*=«nV,^^-^^^^^^V'^^^4^^^,,^=^ ^ 
 
 ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 •^J^^NDBM^gPQ'Pg. -^^ 
 
 ' HERE the Profes- 
 sor canje from 
 originally, or how 
 he even obtained 
 the title of " Pro- 
 fessor," nobody 
 knew. He ap- 
 peared suddenly 
 in the village one 
 day, and renting 
 a small shop, he 
 hung out a sign 
 bearing the inscription, " Professor S. Quackenboss, Phre- 
 nologist and Indian Herb Doctor," and sat down to wait 
 for business that never came. 
 
 A week or two after his arrival, he determined to give 
 a free lecture upon phrenology, for the purpose of intro- 
 ducing himself to the people of the community. He 
 
2 28 PSOFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 rented a hall, and obtained quite a large audience. When 
 the hour for beginning the lecture arrived, the Professo'- 
 advanced and explained the science, and then invited 
 persons in the audience to come forward and permit him 
 to examine their skulls, and tell what were their charac- 
 teristics. Several men offered themselves for this ordeal, 
 and the Professor contrived to come so near to the truth 
 in describing them, that he more than once excited a good 
 deal of applause. 
 
 Finally, old Mr. Duncan stepped up for examination. 
 He is an absent-minded man, and he wears a wig. While 
 dressing himself before coming to the lecture, he had 
 placed his wig on the bureau and accidentally tossed his 
 spectacle case into it. When he put the wig on it was 
 just like him not to notice the case, and so, when he 
 mounted the platform, he had a huge lump just over his 
 bump of combativeness. The Professor fingered about a 
 while over Mr. Duncan's head, and than said — ■ 
 
 " We have here a somewhat remarkable skull. The 
 perceptive faculties strongly developed ; reflective facul- 
 ties quite good ; ideality large ; reverence so great as to 
 be unusual ; and benevolence very prominent. Secretive- 
 ness is small, and the subject, therefore, is a man of 
 candour and frankness ; he communicates what he knows 
 freely. We have also," said the Professor, still ploughing 
 his fingers through D.'s hair, " acquisitiveness not large ; 
 the subject is not a grasping, avaricious man, he gives 
 
 liberally, he — he — he . Why, it can't be ! Yes. Why, 
 
 what in the — ! Munificent Moses ! that's the most awful 
 development of combativeness I ever heard of ! Are you. 
 a prize fighter, eh?" 
 
230 PROFESSOR QVACKENBOSS. 
 
 " Prize-fighter !" exclaimed Mr. D. " Why, what do 
 you mean ? ' 
 
 " Never been a soldier, or a pirate, or anything lilce 
 that ? " 
 
 " You certainly must be crazy." 
 
 " Ain't you fond of going into scrimmages and rows 
 and hammering people ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Well, sir, then you're untrue to your nature. The 
 way your head's built qualifies you, I should say, in a 
 special manner as a pugilist or a soldier. If you want to 
 fulfil your mission, you will devote the remainder of your 
 life to battering up your fellow-man and keeping yourself 
 in one interminable war. You've got the most fearful 
 fighting bump that ever decorated a human skull. It's 
 phenomenal. What'U you take for your head when you 
 die? Gentlemen, this man is liable at any moment to 
 commence raging around the community like a wild cat, 
 banging you with a club or anything that comes handy. 
 It isn't safe for him to be at large." 
 
 Then Mr. Duncan put up his hand for the purpose of 
 
 feeling the bump, and he found the spectacle case. He 
 
 removed his wig, and there was the case resting upon his 
 
 ' left ear. Then the Professor, looking at it for a moment 
 
 in confusion, said — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, we will now — the lecture is — 
 that is, I have no more — boy, put out those lights." 
 
 And Mr. Duncan replaced his wig, the Professor dis- 
 appeared, and the audience laughingly dispersed. 
 
 After that the Professor did not dabble a great deal in 
 phrenology. He remained idly in his office during pai t 
 
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 231 
 
 of each day, but as he was fond of conversation, and 
 rather unduly partial to stimulating beverages when they 
 could be obtained at the expense of other people, he used 
 to spend most of his time either at the tavern or at the 
 comer grocery, where he could give his ingenious views 
 of things generous expression to a crowd of amused 
 listeners. 
 
 One evening the Indian question carne on for discus- 
 sion at the grocery, where some of the leading men of the 
 village had dropped in, for it was the post office also.; and 
 when two or three persons had expressed their opinions, 
 the Professor removed his pipe from his mouth, and 
 placing his feet upon the stove, while he tilted back his 
 chair, said : 
 
 " I don't take the same view of the North American 
 Indians that most people do. 
 
 " Now some think that the red man displays a want of 
 good taste in declining to bathe himself; but I don't. 
 What is dirt ? It is simply — matter ; — the same kind of 
 matter that exists everywhere. The earth is made of dirt ; 
 the things we eat are dirt, and they grow in the dirt ; and 
 when we die and are buried we return again to the dirt 
 from which we were made. Science says that all dirt is 
 clean. The savage Indian knows this ; his original mind 
 grasps this idea ; he has his eagle eye on science, and he 
 has no soap. Dirt is warm. A layer one-sixteenth of an 
 inch thick on a man is said by Professor Huxley to be as 
 comfortable as a fifty- dollar suit of clothes. Why, then, 
 should the child of the forest undress himself once a week 
 by scraping this off, and expose himself to the rude blasts 
 of winter? He has too much sense. His head is too 
 
232 PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 level to let him take a square wash more than once in 
 every twenty years, and even then he don't rub hard. 
 
 " And then, in regard to his practice of eating dogs ; 
 why shouldn't a man eat a dog ? A dog sometimes eats 
 a man, and turn about is fair play. A well-digested dog 
 stowed away inside of a Choctaw squaw, does more to 
 advance civilization and the Christian religion than a dog 
 that barks all night in a back yard, don't it ? And nothing 
 is more nutritious than dog. Professor Huxley says that 
 one pound of a dog's hind leg nourishes the vital forces 
 more than a waggon-load of bread and corned beef It 
 contains more phosphorus and carbon. When dogs are 
 alive they agree with men, and there is rio reason why they 
 shouldn't when they are dead. This nation vPill enter upon 
 a glorious'destiny when it stops raising corn and potatoes, 
 and devotes itself more to growing crops of puppies. 
 
 " Now, many ignorant people consider scalping in- 
 human. I don't. I look upon it as one of the most bene- 
 ficent proc^ses ever introduced for the amelioration of 
 the sufferings of the race. What is hair ? It is an excre- 
 scence. If it grows, it costs a man a great deal of money 
 and trouble to keep it cut. If it falls out; the man becomes 
 bald and the flies bother him. What does the Indian do 
 in this emergency ? With characteristic sagacity he lifts 
 out the whole scalp and ends the annoyance and expense. 
 And then look at the saving from other sources. Pro- 
 fessor Huxley estimates that 2,000 pounds of the food 
 that a man eats in a year go to nourish his hair. Remove 
 that hair and you save that much food. If I had my way 
 I would have every baby scalped when it is vaccinated, as 
 a measure of political economy. That would be states- 
 
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 23^ 
 
 manship. I have a notion to organize a political party 
 
 on the basis of baby- scalping, and to go on the stump to 
 
 advocate it If people had atiy sense, I might run into 
 
 the Presidency as a baby- scalper. 
 
 "And as for the matter of the Indians wearing 
 
 rings through their noses, I don't see why people com- 
 plain of that. Look at the advantage it gives a man when 
 
 he wants to hold 
 
 on to anything. ^^ 
 
 If a hurricane 
 
 strikesan Indian, 
 
 all he does is to 
 
 hook his nose to 
 
 a tree, and there 
 
 he is, fast and 
 
 sound. And it 
 
 gives him some- 
 thing to rest his 
 pipe on while he 
 smokes, while, in 
 the case of a man 
 with a pug, the ring helps to pull his proboscis down, 
 and to make it a Roman nose. But I look at him 
 from a sanitary point of view. The Indian suffers from 
 catarrh. Now, what will cure that disease 1 Metal in 
 the nose in which electricity can be collected. Professor 
 Huxley says that the electricity in a metal ring two inches 
 in diameter will cure more catarrh than all the medicines 
 between here and Kansas. The child of nature, with 
 wonderful instinct,, has perceived this, and he teaches 
 us a lesson. When we, with our higher civilization, begin 
 
234 I-IiOFESSOIi QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 to throw away finger-rings and ear-rings, and to wear 
 rings in our noses, we shall be a hardier race. I am 
 going to direct the attention of Congress to the matter. 
 
 " Then take the objections that are urged to the Indian 
 practice of driving a stake through a man, and building 
 a bonfire on his stomach. What is their idea ? They 
 want to hold that man down. If they sit on him they 
 will obstruct the view of him. They put a stake through 
 him, and there he is secured by simple means, and if it is 
 driven in carefully, it may do him good. Professor 
 Huxley says that he once knew a man who was cured of 
 yellow jaundice by falling on a pale-fence, and having a 
 sharp pointed paling run into him. And the bonfire may 
 be equally healthy. When a man's stomach is out of 
 order, you put a mustard-plaster on it. Why ? To warm 
 it. The red man has the same idea. He takes a few 
 faggots, lights them, and applies them to the abdomen. 
 It is a certain cure. Professor Huxley — " 
 
 " That's enough about Professor Huxley," said Miles, 
 the shopkeeper, interrupting the speaker. " We don't 
 care to hear any more about him.'' 
 
 " Don't care to hear any more about Huxley,'' ex- 
 claimed the Professor, with a look of feigned surprise 
 upon his face. " Uon't want to hear any more about that 
 great and good man ! I can hardly believe it." 
 
 " Well, we don't, anyhow," said Miles. 
 
 The Professor rose, reflected a moment, and then 
 said : " Strange ! Strange ! that men prefer darkness to 
 light ! That they would rather have blind ignorance than 
 the glorious truth ! " Then he reached over the counter, 
 fumbled for a moment in the barrel, came up with a water 
 
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 235 
 
 cracker in his hand, and slowly sauntered through the 
 front door. 
 
 His feelings were hurt, but he was a forgiving man, 
 and so, after staying away for a day or two, he came back 
 again one night, and resumed his old place by the stove. 
 
 After awhile there was a lull in the conversation, and 
 the Profesgor, who had hitherto remained silent, cleared 
 his throat, and said, quietly — 
 
 " I see that they talk of putting up a monument to 
 Christopher Columbus. It's too bad the way people 've 
 been fooled about him. He never discovered America, 
 and I've made up my mind to let the people see what 
 kind of an old humbug he is." 
 
 " You say that Columbus didn't discover America ? " 
 said Mr. Partridge. 
 
 " Certainly he didn't He was a meem, lubberly 
 rascal, who went paddling around in a scow, letting on he 
 was doing big things, when he hadn't courage enough to 
 get out of sight of land." 
 
 " Who did discover it then ? " 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you fellows in advance of publica- 
 tion, but mind you keep quiet about it. It was Poti- 
 phar ! " 
 
 "What was his first name.?" 
 
 "First name.' Why, he hadn't any. It was only 
 Potiphar — old Pharaoh's Potiphar, you know." 
 
 " How did you find out about it ? " 
 
 "Why, you know old Gridley, up in the city ? Well, 
 last year he was in Egypt, and he brought ho^e a 
 mummy, all wrapped up in bedclothes, and soldered 
 around with sealing-wax Gridley asked me to come 
 
236 
 
 PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 over and help to undress him, and so wc went at that 
 mummy, and after rolling off a couple of hundred yards of 
 calico, we reached him. Looked exactly like dried beef. 
 Black as your hat, and just about tender enough to chip 
 down for tea. Gridley said he'd like to know who the old 
 chap was, and I looked him over to find out. You know 
 
 how they put up a mummy, don't 
 you ? Take out all his ma- 
 chinery inside, and fill him up with 
 nutmegs and cinnamon. Then they 
 set a brass door-plate in his stomach, 
 and make some little memoranda, with obituary poetry, 
 and all that kind of thing. Anyhow, after polishing him 
 up with a flesh-brush for a minute or two, I found the 
 door-plate, and with some care I managed to read the 
 inscription on it. It was this : ' I am Potiphar, servant of 
 Pharaoh. I *as buried three thousand years before the 
 Christian era. I discovered America. C. Columbus was 
 an impostor.' That's what the inscription said, and, in 
 
PKOFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 237 
 
 my opinion, that settles it. Now, I'll tell you what I'm 
 going to do. I've had a cast made of that dried beef, 
 and I intend to have it swelled all out and made into a 
 statue, and I'm going to set it up at my own expense, 
 alongside the statue of Columbus, and have a sign put on 
 it to the effect that Columbus is a fraud. Then I intend 
 to get up a memorial to Congress, asking it to change the 
 name of the country to Potipharia, and to make Poti- 
 phar's sacred animal, the cat, the emblematical bird of the 
 nation, instead of the eagle." 
 
 " You say you read the inscription on the plate," said 
 Partridge. " I didn't know you understood the language." 
 
 " Can read it as easy as A B C." 
 
 " ' Buried three thousand years before the Christian 
 era,' I think you said it read. How did old Pot know 
 anything about the Christian era, if he died that long 
 before ? " 
 
 " Blamed if I know. Cast his prophetic eyes over the 
 future, I s'pose." 
 
 " Well, how could he tell that Columbus was going to 
 claim to discover America ? " 
 
 "That's so. I dunno. Is kind of queer." 
 
 " Do you know what I think of you 1 " asked Part- 
 ridge. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I think that if there was a statue of a humbug to be 
 erected, the nation would choose you for the honour, 
 instead of Columbus, or any other man, ancient or 
 modem." 
 
 " Maybe it would ! maybe it would ! " said the Pro- 
 fessor; and then he refilled his pipe from Partridge's 
 
238 PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 tobacco-pouch, which was lying in a box by his side, and 
 relapsed into silence. 
 
 It was never known why the Professor designed his 
 great Nebuchadnezzar enterprise, but some people had a 
 dark suspicion that he proposed to absorb for his own use 
 any money that he secured. He entered the ofKce of the 
 Argus one day, and producing a huge roll of manuscript 
 he said : 
 
 " I've got something here that I want you to publish. 
 It's a ' Vindication of Nebuchadnezzar.' " 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " I say I've got here a ' Vindication of Nebuchad- 
 nezzar.' The object of it is to set Nebuchadnezzar right 
 with the pubUCj to clear up his record and give him some 
 kind of a chance.'' 
 
 " My dear sir, the public don't care anything about 
 Nebuchadnezzar. Our space is too limited for anything 
 so unimportant." 
 
 " I think you are wrong. For about three thousand 
 years people's minds have been prejudiced against that 
 great and good man. I've found some new records about 
 him on some Babylonian bricks in the Patent Office at 
 Washington, which present the matter in a new light. 
 My intention now is that the Argus shall create a sensa- 
 tion by publishing these facts, together with fac-similes 
 of a cart load or two of the bricks, and then I shall 
 ask you to head a subscription list for a Nebuchad- 
 nezzar Monument Fund. How much'll I put you down 
 for?" 
 
 " Professor, you must excuse me. The subject is too 
 unimportant for my attention." 
 
PHOFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 239 
 
 " You make a mistake. I tell you the public mind is 
 excited about the matter. Look at the frightful con- 
 sequences of permitting these erroneous impressions about 
 Nebuchadnezzar to continue ! Your young men are learn- 
 ing them in the divinity schools. They carry them out 
 into the world, into heathen lands. The ignorant African 
 upon the banks of the Niger is taught to stay awake at 
 nights in order to denounce Nebuchadnezzar. The 
 deluded Esquimaux amid the frozen seas paddles about 
 in his canoe harpooning seals, with the conviction that 
 Nebuchadnezzar was a tyrannical old rascal. The red 
 Indian, bounding over his native plains or removing 
 the hair from the summit of his enemy, is instructed 
 to howl as he reflects upon the misconduct of Nebu- 
 chadnezzar. The almond-eyed children of China mingle 
 execrations of Nebuchadnezzar with their most ordi- 
 nary conversation. The whole race is down on hin. 
 He is the victim of universal disapprobation, now isn't 
 ■-le.i"' 
 
 " I don't think he is." 
 
 " Now, how would you like it if for the next three 
 thousand years everybody was to believe that you were an 
 old reprobate who ate grass ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't care." 
 
 " Oh, well, maybe you ain't a sensitive man. Nebuchad- 
 nezzar was. His feelings were easily hurt. Old Baby- 
 Ionian bricks all mention that. Now this vindication of 
 him will run through your paper about two months, and 
 it's bound to create such enthusiasm for the old man that 
 people '11 go without food to contribute money to run up 
 some kind of a tombstone for him. And when I get 
 
240 PKOFJSSSOR QUACKENBOSS. 
 
 through with him I've got another serial vindicating Bel- 
 shazzar, that '11 run for a couple of months more, and then 
 people '11 be hungry to get out a monument for him. 
 Now you mark me: this nation '11 not be ten years 
 older before all those old chaps '11 have monuments 
 strung all along every where to them. There's going 
 to be an awakening on the subject in the popular mind. 
 I'm going to set it up so's when anybody says anything 
 against Nebuchadnezzar the folks '11 turn out and hang 
 him to the nearest tree. A popular idea, you under- 
 stand. Just wild about him.'' 
 
 " I'm. going to try to remain calm." 
 
 " Now, what'U you pay me a line for this vindication?" 
 
 " Pay you ! Why I wouldn't print it if you'd pay me 
 a dollar a line ! " 
 
 " What ! Wouldn't give a litt to an old man that's 
 been imposed on for three or four thousand years ? 
 Wouldn't do him a good turn, now he's in his grave and 
 can't help himself ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 "Well, well! I've heard a good deal about the 
 liberality of a free press, and about journalistic enterprise, 
 but I can't see it. I thought, of course, that any news- 
 paper'd come to the rescue of an unfortunate fellow-creature 
 when he's in trouble.'' 
 
 "Well, I won't." 
 
 " Oh, all right ; all right; but mark me! I'm going to 
 scratch on a brick somewheres that you are a reprobate, 
 with the instincts of a hyena and the intellect of a shrimp ; 
 and I'm going to bury that brick where it '11 be turned up 
 in three or four thousand years, so the people of those 
 
PROFESSOR QUACKENSOSS. 
 
 241 
 
 times '11 know what to think aiyou. I'll fix you, old boy, 
 you see if I don't.'' 
 
 Then Professor Quackenboss rolled up the vindication, 
 rubbed his nose on his sleeve, aad went down-stairs 
 warm" with indignation. 
 
 16 
 
ihh^ 
 
 CERTAIN FACTS CONCERMING THEIR 
 DEMORALIZATION. 
 
 VERYBODY, we believe, 
 excepting a few misan- 
 thropists, admits that 
 the human race, as a 
 whole, has been steadily 
 growing better under 
 the beneficent and ex- 
 tending influences of 
 civilization. The careful observer, especially if he be 
 a parent, will, however, have a strong inclination to protest 
 that the modern baby — regarded merely as a baby — 
 cannot fairly be included in the number of those who are 
 moving onward toward perfection. 
 
 Concerning the characteristics of the babies of remote 
 antiquity, we have no accurate information We know 
 that Moses, lying in the bulrushes, attracted the attention 
 of Pharaoh's daughter; but there is nothing in the Scrip- 
 
BABIES. 243 
 
 tural narrative which warrants the assumption that he did 
 so by lifting up his voice and weeping. If an average 
 baby of the present period could be placed in such a 
 position, the chances are that it would howl so as to 
 arouse the whole land of Egypt. But we have reliable 
 accounts of the conduct of babies of the early part of this 
 century, from elderly people who cared for them, and the 
 evidence of these persons is that the babies of the period 
 were stuffy and sleepy, and addicted to indulgence in a 
 remarkable amount of silence. 
 
 The infants of the present day are not thus. They 
 come into the world apparently with two fixed resolves : 
 not to stay asleep more than an hour or two in each 
 night, and to give their lungs and vocal chords the largest 
 opportunities of exercise. The old-fashioned baby 
 slept serenely though cannons were fired by its ears. The 
 modern baby considers it necessary to awake and remon- 
 strate if the nurse steps about with a squeaking boot. The 
 ancient baby merely warbled a little as a suggestion that 
 it needed nourishment, or a few drops from the paregoric 
 bottle. The preposterous baby of to-day cries loudest 
 when it is fiiUest, and stays awake most when it has 
 largest doses of narcotics. 
 
 There is an elementof ingratitude in this behaviour 
 which, unless there is a speedy reform, will be likely to 
 create a permanent prejudice against ihe modern baby. 
 Mankind has done a great deal for him. The old-time 
 baby considered itself lucky if it could obtain an occasional 
 ride in a rude box fastened to four uncouth wheels. The 
 later baby goes out sumptuously in a gilded coach with 
 falling-top and springs. The primeval baby was hushed 
 
244 
 
 BABIES. 
 
 to sleep with harsh and melodious rhythm. The pre- 
 sent baby has had cradle-songs written expressly for it 
 by Gounod, and 
 Gottschalk, and 
 Schubert, and 
 Abt, and many 
 other great com- 
 posers — songs 
 which ought to 
 send a baby 
 whirling into the 
 land of dreams. 
 The pre-revo- 
 lutionary baby 
 was rocked in a 
 cradle the only 
 
 motor of which was an intermittent and irregular mai.tr- 
 nal toe. The baby of our time is vibrated beautifully 
 by clockwork. The baby of the misty past had but one 
 food supply, and it had to use that or go hungry. The 
 baby that howls beneath the brilliant light of our later 
 civilization has the choice of many viands, from oatmeal 
 gruel to toasted buns ; and for it were reserved the bless- 
 ings of the patent bottle with the india-rubber nozzle. 
 
 In spite of all these things : in spite of soothing syrups 
 and woven undershirts and all the other devices of 
 ingenious inventors who have spent years in getting up 
 appliances for ameliorating the condition of babies, the 
 modern infant persists in staying awake and howling with 
 a persistency that is disgusting and disreputable. 
 
 The cause of this wicked disposition is not clearly 
 
BABIES. 245 
 
 apparent ; if it were, something might be done in the way 
 of procuring legislation to correct it. There are persons 
 who attribute it to the force of original sin. The baby 
 being small, and yet having as much of this dreadful heir- 
 loom as a grown person, has greater pressure to the 
 square inch, and he is compelled to yield to it. This 
 theory will seem a little strained when we recur to the 
 excellent conduct of the infant Moses, and remember that 
 he was subjected to the same pressure, but succeeded in 
 resisting it. The modern milkman may be partially respon- 
 sible, for even a totally depraved baby may be forgiven 
 for screeching if an undue predominance of cold water in 
 its diet awakes a pain more intense than any baby knew 
 aforetime, when milkmen were guileless and the pump 
 was not their chief coadjutor. 
 
 The probability, however, is that as the human race 
 grows older, and more refined, and more fastidious, it 
 also becomes more nervous, and that, consequently, the 
 babies start in life with nervous systems much more deli- 
 cate and more acutely sensitive than those that belonged 
 to their predecessors. If this is the case, it is difficult to 
 perceive precisely how the uproariousness of the average 
 baby is to be subdued in any general and effectual 
 manner, unless by the use of positive force. 
 
 The properly-trained Indian baby never howls. The 
 reason is that when it begins its career its mother sup- 
 presses its very first outbursts by taking its nose between 
 - her forefinger and her thumb, and holding her palm over 
 its mouth. Then it cannot cry without peril of bursting, 
 and after a few ineffectual attempts it abandons the busi- 
 ness in despair, comprehends that silence is one of the 
 
246 BABIES. 
 
 conditions of existence, and thenceforth it hides its sorrows 
 and nurses its grief in secret. It is not by any means 
 saddest when it sings. 
 
 Extremes are very sure to meet. We may be approach- 
 ing the day when the highly-civilized parent will be com- 
 pelled to adopt the method of the wholly savage aborigine 
 in compelling the average baby to refrain its ululations. 
 
 These reflections are born of certain recent observa- 
 tions of the conduct and misconduct of the babies who 
 owe allegiance to my neighbours, the Magruders. 
 
 The Magruders have twins, and although that fact 
 was known to most persons living in the village, it was 
 not known to Mr Partridge, their next-door neighbour, 
 when he came home from a summer's sojourn at the 
 sea-side. 
 
 Upon the first night of his arrival, he was awakened 
 about one o'clock by some unusually loud caterwauling, 
 apparently in Magruder's yard. He rose, went to the 
 window, and ejaculated ■' Scat ! " several times, but with- 
 out effect. The noise continued. Then he fumbled 
 around in the closet for an old boot, and projected it at 
 the spot where he thought the cats were. There was a 
 momentary lull, but in a minute or two the screeching 
 became more vociferous than ever. Partridge went for 
 another boot, and hurled it with terrific force into Magru- 
 der's yard, and then he followed it with another, and then 
 the noise became a positive shriek. Partridge was gra- 
 dually getting excited, and dashing into the closet he 
 scooped up all the boots on the floor, and the bootjack, 
 and after flinging them over Magruder's fence in quick 
 succession, but without stopping the serenade, he danced 
 
BABIES. 247 
 
 around in a frenzy and fired oflf everything he could lay 
 his hands on. Mrs. Partridge's gaiters, the soap-cup, the 
 towel-rack, the pomatum jug, the cologne bottle, the foot- 
 stool, Mrs. Partridge's hoops, the hair-brushes, the wax 
 fruit, the hymn book, and the plaster image of little 
 Samuel saying his prayers, with a stubby-nosed angel in 
 a bolster-case watching him — all of these things were 
 hurled furiously at the unseen cats; and still the duet 
 proceeded. At last, when all the available material in 
 the room, excepting the bedstead and Mrs. Partridge, had 
 been flung away, Partridge rushed downstairs for his gun, 
 and then emptied both barrels into Magruder's dining- 
 room shutters. Then Magruder appeared at the 'back 
 window, and exclaimed : 
 
 " What m the thunder is the matter ? " 
 
 ''Matter?" shouted Partridge, "why, I'm trying to 
 stop those cats in your yard." 
 
 " What cats ? " inquired Magruder ; " I don't see any 
 cats." 
 
 " But you can hear 'em, can't you ? They've been 
 yowlin' around down there for the last two hours like 
 fury. There they go. Don't you hear that ? Just listen 
 to that, will you?" 
 
 " Partridge, you certainly must be intoxicated. Cats ! 
 Why, good gracious, man, those are the twins over here 
 in our room. They were born last Friday ? Didn't you 
 hear about it ? " 
 
 " And I don't want to hear about it now," said Part- 
 ridge, as he closed the window savagely, and went to bed. 
 
 Magruder bought a coach for each of the children, 
 when they were old enough to go out, and he bought a 
 
248 BABIES. 
 
 trained goat, which pulled one of the coaches, while the 
 nurse-girl pulled the other. But one day the goat met 
 another goat, that differed from him in politics or religion, 
 or something, and each undertook to convince the other 
 by jamming him in the skull. Every time Magruder's 
 goat would rear up, preparatory to making a lunge for- 
 ward, Magruder's baby would lurch over backwards, and 
 when Magruder's goat struck the other goat, the concus- 
 sion would shake the milk in the baby's stomach into 
 butter. 
 
 And sometimes the other goat would aim at Magru- 
 der's goat, which would dodge, and then the other goat 
 would plunge headforemost into the coach, and mash the 
 baby up in the most frightful manner. And in the midst 
 of the contest a couple of dogs joined in, and M^ruder's 
 goat backed off and tilted the coach into the gutter, and 
 the dogs, biting around kind of generally, would snap at 
 the goat and cause it to whirl the baby around just in 
 time for the bite. Until at last the goat got disheartened 
 and sprang through the fence, leaving the coach on the 
 other side, and it struggled frantically to escape, while the 
 other goat crowded up against the baby in order to avoid 
 the dogs, and finally knocked the baby out, and butted 
 the coach to sphnters. 
 
 They say that the way Mrs. Magruder eyed Magru- 
 der that afternoon, when they brought the baby home, 
 mutilated and dishevelled, was simply awful to behold ; 
 but she didn't speak to him for a week, and he had to 
 soften her down by buying her an ostrich feather for her 
 winter hat. The goat is still at large. Anybody who 
 wants him can have him free of charge. Magruder 
 
" Brought the baby huiue mutilated." — Page 248. 
 
2SO 
 
 BABIES. 
 
 doesn't recognize him when he meets the animal upon the 
 street. 
 
 Magruder is enthusiastic upon the subject of the twins, 
 and he is occasionally imprudent in expressing his feelings. 
 A few months after the birth of the children, the whole 
 town, one night, was aroused by a succession of shouts, fol- 
 lowed by a firing of pistols and the springing of a watch- 
 man's rattle. In a few 
 moments the entire popu- 
 lation was in the street, 
 and everybody hurried to 
 the place from whence the 
 noises came. When they 
 reached Magruder'shouse 
 they saw Magruder lean- 
 ing out of the window 
 turning a rattle furiously 
 and halloaing at the top 
 of his voice, while every 
 now and then he would 
 brandish his revolver and 
 fire it half-a-dozen times. _ 
 
 The policemen felt certain 
 
 that burglars were in the house, and while they were 
 bursting open the back window to capture the thieves, 
 a rumour spread that the house was afire. In two 
 minutes the engine was on the ground, a ladder was 
 raised, and they had a stream playing through the third 
 story window. 
 
 As the policemen forced the kitchen window, the fire- 
 men kicked open the front door and rushed in followed 
 
BABIES. 251 
 
 by the crowd. Magruder met them on the stairs, and the 
 Mayor of the town said : 
 
 " Magruder, what on earth is the matter ? " 
 
 Magruder danced about for a moment, and then he 
 shouted : 
 
 " Come in, come right in, gentlemen, and see it." 
 
 " See it ! see what ? " asked the Mayor. 
 
 " Why, the baby, one of the twins ! Got a tooth ! just 
 got its first tooth ! Go right up, and look at it for your- 
 selves.'' 
 
 " Mr. Magruder,'' said the Mayor, sternly, " do you 
 mean to say that you have created all this disturbance for 
 such a trivial reason ? " 
 
 " Trivial ! I don't understand you. Why, man, the 
 child actually has a tooth ! " 
 
 The Mayor turned away, and went out in silent disgust, 
 and the crowd followed him. 
 
 Good judges estimate that that tooth cost Magruder 
 about four hundred dollars for damages, and Mrs. Ma- 
 gruder intimated to a friend that the appearance of sub- 
 sequent teeth would be concealed from him until he was 
 perfectly sober. 
 
 There came a time, however, when Magruder had 
 rather more of the twins than he wanted. One day he 
 and Mrs. Magruder went to the railway station to start 
 upon a journey to Chicago. They engaged berths in a 
 sleeping car, and they had the twins with them. A few 
 moments before the hour of starting, Mrs. Magruder 
 asked Mr. Magruder to hold the children for a moment, 
 while she went to the waiting-room in the station to get a 
 shawl that she had forgotten. 
 
252 BABIES. 
 
 She must have made a mistake about the time, for 
 before she returned the train started, and Magruder was 
 in a state of wild despair. Pretty soon the babies began 
 to cry, and then — no words can describe his misery. 
 
 All the passengers stared at him, and, as he dandled 
 the babies upon his knees, the perspiration streamed from 
 every pore. This kind of thing continued until nightfall, 
 when Magruder put the children into a berth and tried to 
 soothe them to sleep. But they were hungry, and they 
 cried harder every moment. And while Magruder sat 
 there beside them the long, long night, the passengers in 
 the other berths groaned, and growled, and made savage 
 remarks, and uttered the most uncharitable prophecies 
 concerning the ultimate destination of the Magruder 
 family. 
 
 By the time morning came, Magruder was almost 
 insane, and the twins were on the verge of starvation. 
 He had nothing to give them but cigars and the bay-rum 
 which he carried for his hair, and he knew those were not 
 healthy. The first time the train stopped, he bolted out 
 and bought a pie. When he returned, one of the twins 
 had tumbled off the seat and had a broken nose ; but he 
 stuffed them both with the pie until they were deathly 
 sick, and then Magruder was in a worse case than ever. 
 
 Finally, he reached Chicago in a condition of com- 
 plete demoralization, and then he had to sit in the 
 station with the babies for eight hours, lest he should 
 miss Mrs. Magruder, who he knew would come in the 
 next train. 
 
 And she did come, but when Magruder saw her he did 
 not greet her warmly. He arose and went out into the 
 
BABIES. 
 
 353 
 
 fresh air in order to calm his feelings, so as to avoid an 
 exciting conjugal scene in a public place. Then he hired 
 a cab, and, placing his family in it, they drove to an 
 hotel. 
 
 The next time he goes upon a journey, Mrs. Magruder 
 virill remain at home with the offspring. 
 
)|f _f luafe Jtg]^l|ttu$^. 
 
 A SERIOUS STORY* 
 
 g^r jj=,.-ji -X'as^lf* ELL, Bessie, so the 
 ^JLf.ii-'ifSm..- k time has come at 
 
 a- — — ^ * ^ ^* ■*■ * 
 
 last." 
 
 "No, Tom, not 
 quite yet. This is 
 only the twenty- 
 third, you know. 
 Two more days ; 
 then Christmas, 
 and then our wed- 
 ding." 
 
 " Oh, well," re- 
 plied Tom, " the 
 great event is so 
 near, that after our 
 long waiting the 
 two days seem as 
 nothing." 
 
 * It may interest some one to learn that the principal incident of 
 this story occurred precisely as it is here narrated. 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 255 
 
 " A great many wonderful things may happen in two 
 days- Tom.'' 
 
 " Yes, but nothing can happen to separate us, Bessie. 
 You are mine and I am yours. Our lives join together 
 now, and no man may part them asunder.'' 
 
 "Oh, I hope and believe there may be nothing to 
 interfere with our happiness,'' said Bessie. " The sky is 
 very bright for us now, and I cannot conceive of any 
 calamity which could befall us before our wedding " 
 
 "Of course not," replied Tom. "Don't think of 
 such a thing. It will be good-bye to you to-day, 
 good-bye to-morrow, and then no more farewells for 
 ever, for we shall be man and wife. But maybe I 
 won't be here to-morrow, though, until late in the 
 evening." 
 
 "Why ?" asked Bessie. 
 
 " Because I think I shall go duck-shooting over at the 
 Shoals with Jan Eckels, and it is hardly likely I shall get 
 back before supper time." 
 
 " Who is Jan Eckels ?" inquired Bessie. 
 
 " Why, a young Norwegian, a fisherman who lives on 
 Star Island. He says the gunning around there is splendid 
 now, and he is going to take me over in his boat in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Isn't it a little dangerous out on the open sea at this 
 season, Tom ? " 
 
 "Not a bit, when the weather is fine. Jan is a first- 
 rate sailor, and we won't go, you know, if there is danger 
 of a storm. I will be around to-morrow night early, 
 Bessie, for certain." 
 
 " I hope so," said Bessie. " But, Tom, dear, for fear 
 
256 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 you shouldn't get back in time, I've half a notion to give 
 you your Christmas present now. . Shall I." 
 
 " You might as well, Bess. I have yours in my pocket 
 now. Let's exchange to-night." 
 
 Bessie bounced out of the room and returned presently 
 with a tiny morocco box. Tom took from his pocket a 
 case, from which he removed a beautiful locket and chain, 
 which he fastened upon Bessie's neck. 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! isn't it beautiful ? I can't tell you how 
 much 1 am obliged to you. It is the very thing I wanted. 
 It was very, very kind of you to find out what I wished. 
 And now let me give you yours. Hold out your hand, 
 sir ! There ! " 
 
 And Bessie placed upon her lover's fingefr a dainty 
 amethyst ring. 
 
 " It's magnificent," exclaimed Tom, holding it at a 
 distance and admiring the stone. 
 
 " And I have had an inscription placed inside," said 
 Bessie, 
 
 " ' From Bessie Archer to Thomas Freeborn, 
 Christmas, 186-.' 
 
 " It is the last thing Bessie Archer will give you, Tom. 
 Before present-giving times come round again, I shall be 
 Bessie Freeborn." 
 
 Then the good-nights were said in that sweet old 
 fashion which all true lovers know, and so they parted, 
 each with a soul full of purr happiness in the present, and 
 of tender hope for that blissful future which seemed so 
 close at hand. 
 
 Tom Freeborn, the son of a widow, whose only child 
 
17 
 
 ;' It's magnificent," said Tom. — Page 256- 
 
2S8 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 he was, and who loved him with such deep affection that 
 she was almost jealous of the fair girl who had come to 
 share his heart, returned to his home and began his 
 preparations for the morrow's expedition. Bessie Archer, 
 the only daughter of a wealthy banker, and a woman 
 whose lovely face was but the outward sign of the purity 
 which crowned her character, retired to rest, to wait amid 
 pleasant dreams the morrow which would bring her 
 nearer to the consummation of her happiness. 
 
 The town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in which 
 these persons lived, lies close upon a river which flows in 
 tortuous course until, a mile or two below the wharves, 
 it empties into the sea. Twelve miles beyond, out in the 
 ocean, lie the Isles of Shoalsj a group of small islands, 
 some of which are inhabited, one of which uprears alight- 
 house boldly from its cliffs, and others of which have no 
 signs of a man's presence, but are the resort of the wild 
 geese, and swans, and ducks, of the white owl and the sea- 
 gulls, the fish-hawk and the stormy petrel. 
 
 From the little settlement upon the rocky hill of Star 
 Island came Jan Eckels on that bright December morn- 
 ing in his open boat, containing two masts, as is the 
 fashion in that region with the craft of the fishermen. He 
 belonged to a family of Norwegians, many of whom are 
 found upon the islands and upon the mainland in the 
 vicinity ; and he handled his little shell of a boat with 
 the dexterity of one who had spent his life upon the 
 water. 
 
 Tom was waiting for him at the wharf when he arrived, 
 but as the tide was running swiftly up the channel and 
 was nearly at the flood, Jan determined to wait for it to 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 259 
 
 turn rather than to try to beat down the crooked stream 
 against it. So, when the two sportsmen finally set out 
 upon their journey, it was after ten o'clock, and two hours 
 more would elapse before they could reach Duck Island, 
 their destination. But the day, though cold, was clear 
 and beautiful, and the wind as it filled the sails and swept 
 the boat over the rough waters gave them no discomfort, 
 for they were warmly clad and well used to such expo- 
 sure. 
 
 There was splendid sport at the island. Freeborn 
 
 and Eckels landed in a small cove where the surf did not 
 heat, and, fastening the boat's painter to a rock, they took 
 up their guns and started for the eastern shote. All the 
 afternoon they tramped about over the rugged and 
 broken surface of the place, creeping behind first one 
 boulder and then another as they approached the game, 
 until, when the sun approached the horizon, they counted 
 up a goodly number of black ducks and three or four 
 
26o THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 superb swans. As they were looking over the trophies of 
 their sport and placing them in the bags, Eckels said : 
 
 " We had better hurry, Mr. Freeborn. It looks pretty 
 dar!< yonder, and I'm afeard we'll have a squall." 
 
 " Not much of a one, I hope," replied Tom, beginning 
 to move toward the boat. " I don't care to get a wetting 
 such a cold night as this. We should freeze to death." 
 
 " We must make good time then," said Eckels, " for 
 it's going to rain, certain, and I'm afeard of a big blow." 
 
 They reached the boat, and tossed the game and the 
 fowling-pieces into it, and then, jumping in themselves, 
 Jan hastily raised the sails, and they started toward Ports- 
 mouth. The wind blew strongly from the north-west, 
 and the clouds came scurrying thick and fast overhead, 
 becoming blacker and blacker every moment, while the 
 surface of the sea was covered with the white-caps, the 
 great waves rolling in mightier masses each moment as 
 the wind grew fiercer. 
 
 " I'm afeard we won't make it," said Jan, with a scared 
 look upon his face. " There'll be a gale before we reach 
 the harbour, and then take care ! We'll have trouble, Mr. 
 Freeborn." 
 
 " Well, let's drive ahead and do our best," replied Tom, 
 gloomily. 
 
 " Look ! — look there ! — there it comes, sure enough ! " 
 shouted Jan. " The squall has got us ! " 
 
 Tom did look, and far out upon the sea he could per- 
 ceive the waves in fearful tumult, while above them a 
 dense white cloud swept forward with terrible velocity. 
 In a moment they were blinded by the storm of snow 
 which dashed into their faces, and while the wind roared 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 261 
 
 about their ears with a shriek such as might liave come 
 from the lips of a host of maddened fiends, their boat was 
 tossed about in the angry billows with such violence that 
 it seemed as if it must go to pieces But Jan clung to the 
 helm, and desperately strove to guide the craft, and he 
 still showed in his face that he had a brave hope of 
 weathering the storm. He was about to say a cheerful 
 word to Tom, when the handle was wrenched from his 
 grasp, and as he caught it again, aery of agonized despair 
 reached Tom through the noise of the tempest. 
 
 " The rudder is gone ! " shrieked Jan ; " we are lost ! 
 we are lost ! " 
 
 The boat, no longer controlled by the helm, whirled 
 around with her broadside to the wind, and in an instant 
 there was a crash as both masts were swept over the side, 
 one of them striking Jan's arm in its descent, and wound- 
 ing him severely. But the staunch little ship did not 
 capsize. She was built for rough work, and she remained 
 upright. Jan sank upon the floor in utter helplessness, 
 and cried like a child. He could do nothing in his crippled 
 condition, even if there was anything to be done. But 
 the waves now and then swept over the boat, and she was 
 gradually filling with water, so Tom, after placing Jan 
 upon one of the thwarts, went to work to bale the water 
 out as fast as possible. While he was thus busy, a cry 
 from Jan caused him to look up ; they were hurrying past 
 the White Island lighthouse, and they were so close to it, 
 that through the dusk they could see the keeper upon the 
 shore making frantic gestures to them. But, alas ! no 
 help could come to them. 
 
 They dashed by at frightful speed, and in a moment 
 
262 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 the tall shaft of the lighthouse was but a white speck amid 
 the gloom. The air became colder; each wave that 
 dashed into the boat covered the unhappy men with a 
 sheet of ice, and the spray hurled upward by the sea in 
 its fury fell upon them in icy particles which stung their 
 frozen faces until the agony became almost unendurable. 
 Tom kept his blood in active circulation by his exertions 
 to relieve the bor.t from the water. But Jan —before the 
 lighthouse was an hour behind, Jan suddenly fell prone 
 upon the boat's floor, and lay there motionless. Tom 
 leaped to his side and tried to lift him. He wore an icy 
 coat of mail from head to foot ; his arm was pulseless, 
 his eyes were set in a stony glare, and his breathing had 
 ceased. His soul had gone out from the midst of that 
 wild and terrible tumult of the elements into the land of 
 everlasting peace. 
 
 The tears came into Tom's eyes as he looked down 
 upon the face of his dead comrade, and he broke forth 
 into loud lamentations. But he could not pause from his 
 labour to indulge in mourning. The boat was filling each 
 moment, and nothing but desperate exertion remained 
 between him and certain death. The boat itself was now 
 cased in ice and sank deeply into the water, and Tom 
 perceived that he must bale more rapidly or be swallowed 
 up in the angry sea. 
 
 Onward and onward he hurried before the pitiless 
 blast, the gale seeming to increase in fury every moment. 
 He saw the light on Cape Cod as he went swirling by in 
 the darkness, and he knew that he had come nearly a 
 hundred miles upon that frightful voyage. Where would 
 it end? He did not dare to think. He must work — 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 263 
 
 work desperately, savagely, with every energy of soul and 
 body. And so with fierce, unceasing toil, which seemed 
 too terrible to be endured much longer, with now a thought 
 that it would be better to stop and let the end come, then 
 with a remembrance of Bessie and of the blessedness of 
 life, and with hope of rescue and salvation, he struggled 
 on until daylight came ; and as the gale died away, little 
 by little, the sun came out and looked down upon a float- 
 ing mass of ice, bearing up a corpse that lay statue-like 
 upon its frozen bier ; and a man, haggard and pale, and 
 covesed, like his lost companion, with a glittering shroud. 
 
 Utterly worn out with his awful battle with fate, Tom 
 looked about him to see if any help might be near. He 
 espied a barque far ahead, and lying right in his course. 
 He ceased baling, and tying his handkerchief to an oar, 
 and holding it upward, waved it to and fro. The signal 
 was seen. The barque went about and stood straight for 
 him. The boat swept closer and closer, and Tom's heart 
 was filled with a great and eager hope of rescue. The 
 boat dashed beneath the bows of the vessel, and coursed 
 along its side. A rope was thrown to him by a sailor. 
 He clutched it frantically and held it fast. The boat 
 swept away beneath him, and he plunged into the sea. 
 " He is lost,'" was the cry that reached him from the 
 deck. 
 
 Not so. He thrust his arm through the loop in the 
 rope, a sturdy pull from the sailor tightened the slip-knot, 
 and in a moment he lay upon the deck ; while Jan, in his 
 icy tomb, went hurtling far, far out to sea, and to burial 
 beneath the rolling billows. 
 
 A great dread filled two hearts in Portsmouth on the 
 
264 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 night of the storm, when hour after hour passed, and Tom 
 did not return. Bessie was very hopeful though, for she 
 thought her lover might have returned too late to visit 
 her, and had gone home. But his mother spent the night 
 in agony, fearing the worst, and yet half believing that her 
 boy and his companion had landed upon one of the 
 islands and remained there, rather than to attempt the 
 passage of that raging sea. 
 
 In the morning Bessie called early at Mrs. Freeborn's, 
 and was greatly alarmed to find that Tom was not at 
 home. Both women then sought Bessie's father for advice, 
 and he instantly dispatched a boat to the islands to dis- 
 cover if Tom and Eckels had spent the night there. 
 
 Four or five hours elapsed before the messenger 
 returned ; and meantime Bessie and Mrs. Freeborn en- 
 dured torture, for thev were certain Tom would have come 
 back early in the morning, if he had been detained at the 
 Shoals. And when the boatman at last presented him- 
 self, he had a sad, sad story to tell. He had talked with 
 the keeper of the lighthouse, who said that a terrible 
 squall struck the islands late yesterday afternoon, and 
 that while he stood upon the rocks of the shore he had 
 seen Jan's boat go lying past in the tempest with masts 
 and rudder gone, with Jan sitting motionless upon the 
 thwart, and with Tom desperately striving to keep the 
 boat from sinking. There could be no doubt, the keeper 
 said, that they were lost. No boat could live in such a 
 sea, and this one was a wreck when it reached the light- 
 house. 
 
 A wild cry of anguish came from Bessie's lips at this 
 recital, while Mrs. Freeborn gave herself up to frantic 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 265 
 
 grief. The two women, somewhat estranged before, were 
 brought close together by their common sorrow. Both 
 had dearly loved the poor drowned lad, and both were 
 stricken with the same intense and overwhelming anguish. 
 And as Bessie strove, amid her own suffering, to comfort 
 the woman w^ho was thus left desolate in the world, the 
 flame of a new affection was kindled between them, and 
 the mother loved the girl because her son had loved her ; 
 while Bessie felt that in Tom's mother she could find the 
 only person in the world who could give her fullest com- 
 passion and sympathy in her great misery. 
 
 And so these two became fast friends. Bessie was 
 often at Mrs. Freeborn's house ; and as the weeks and 
 months passed away, and no tidings came of poor Tom, 
 all hope faded out of their hearts, and they gave up for 
 ever the expectation of seeing him again. But they 
 talked to each other of him, and in the rehearsal of his 
 characteristics, and the recital of the events with which 
 each was familiar in his life, they found strong consolation 
 in their communion with each other. 
 
 A year passed away. Christmas came again, with its 
 solemn memories, and brought no joy to Bessie or to Mrs 
 Freeborn. Then another year came and went ; and the 
 two women, one grey and haggard, with deep furrows 
 upon her brow, and with the story of a great sorrow 
 written upon her face ; the other still wearing the bloom 
 of youth, still beautiful and full of physical grace and 
 vigour, but g^ave and sad with the memory of the afflic- 
 tion which was ever fresh in her mind — these two were 
 yet companions. But, a month afterwards, Mrs. Free- 
 born died, suddenly, while Bessie was absent from home ; 
 
266 THE SHOALS LIGHT HOUSE. 
 
 and ere she had recovered from the shock caused by this 
 intelligence, her father's firm failed, and he came home to 
 her one night a beggar. Mrs. Freeborn had intended to 
 give Tom's inheritance to Bessie ; but, alas ! she died 
 without making a will, and her relatives took all of her 
 property. 
 
 After trying in vain for several months to obtain em- 
 ployment, Mr. Archer accepted an appointment as keeper 
 of the lighthouse on White Island, and there upon that 
 narrow rock, far from the great world, and almost isolated 
 from humanity, the two established their home. In this 
 lonely spot the summer and autumn passed, and during 
 the pleasant weather Bessie would often seat herself upon 
 the shore, where the light-keeper on that fatal night had 
 seen Jan's boat coursing through the torrent, and try to 
 picture to herself the dreadful scene. And never did the 
 wind howl about their little dwelling, or the roaring sea 
 hurl its mighty surges against the lighthouse and the 
 barrier of rocks around it, but Bessie would think of the 
 Storm that swept away her darling, and of the horror of 
 that death amid the seething waves. 
 
 Winter came, and with it many a furious war of the 
 elements, during which Bessie's heart sometimes was 
 filled with fear lest even they, upon that tiny spot of earth 
 and stone, might be submerged by the mountain waves 
 which rolled in awful volume against the shore. The 
 weary days and nights went by, and Christmas-eve came 
 again, bringing with it the most terrible gale that the 
 Archers had ever encountered since their hermitage began. 
 The sea was a boiling cauldron in which the waters were 
 flung wildly to and fro, the white crests which crowned 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 267 
 
 the waves being merged in one weltering mass of foam 
 that shone strangely out from the black darkness of the 
 night. The lantern overhead in the lighthouse shot its 
 red and white light far out over the waters, warning 
 mariners to avoid the treacherous rocks which here lurk 
 close beneath the surface ; and against the thick glass 
 which surrounded the light, swarms of birds, fleeing before 
 the howling storm, were dashed and fell crushed and dead 
 among the boulders beneath. The wind shrieked and 
 screamed so fearfully about the low hut at the foot of the 
 tower, that the two occupants could scarce hear their own 
 voices even when they spoke in loudest tones. 
 
 "It is an awful night, Bessie,'' said Mr. Archer. 
 " Heaven help any poor sailors who are caught in this 
 neighbourhood in such a storm. It will be certain death 
 for them." 
 
 Before Bessie could reply, a dull thud was heard out- 
 side above the roar of the tempest. Then another and 
 another. 
 
 " They are signal guns ! " exclaimed Mr. Archer, leap- 
 ing to his feet " Hark ! there they are again ! They 
 are firing rapidly, and the vessel is evidently close at 
 hand ! " 
 
 The two rushed to the window and looked out. 
 Nothing could be seen but the thick gloom and that 
 ghastly white surface of the restless sea. Again the guns 
 were heard, and then the sound ceased. Bessie and her 
 father sat silently for awhile before the fire, each thinking 
 of the horrors which the morrow's sun might reveal to 
 them, and at last Mr. Archer said : 
 
 "She has gone ashore, I fear, either on Duck Island 
 
268 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 or on Smutty Nose. It is the latter, I think, or we 
 should not have heard her guns so plainly." 
 
 And Bessie clasped her father's hand tightly, and 
 thought how poor Tom had braved such a tempest and 
 had gone down into the fathomless depths to which these 
 unfortunate men even now were sinking. Sleep was 
 impossible on such a night, and Bessie kept watch with 
 her father, who must remain awake to charge the lamps 
 every hour with fresh supplies of oil. 
 
 It was after midnight when the guns were heard, and 
 Bessie sat by the fireside until the early dawn, when her 
 father ascended the tower to extinguish the lights. Mr. 
 Archer had been gone but a few moments, when he came 
 running down in extreme agitation. As he entered the 
 room, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Bessie, let us go out to the beach quickly. I think a 
 body has been washed ashore. I saw it from the lantern. 
 Come ! " And the two hurried through the doorway. 
 
 The rain had ceased, and the wind, though blowing 
 strongly from the west, had lost much of its violence 
 They ran down the pathway to the spot where Bessie 
 had so often stood and imagined Tom's terrible journey, 
 and there, as Mr. Archer had supposed, lay the body of a 
 drowned sailor. He had lashed himself to a spar, and 
 had probably remained afloat for some time ; but the 
 pitiless waves had swept over and over him until he had 
 ceased to breathe, and then they had cast him from their 
 deadly embrace upon this morsel of kindly mother earth 
 for Christian burial. He was a tall, manly fellow,, with 
 bronzed and rugged face, strong arms, a flowing beard, 
 and dark-brown hair. Mr. Archer cut away the lashings,. 
 
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 269 
 
 and they carried him up to the house and placed him 
 before the fire. They determined to attempt his resusci- 
 tation, although they had little hope of effecting it, for the 
 sailor had probably been in the water, dead, for several 
 hours. 
 
 While Mr. Archer breathed into the man's lungs, 
 Bessie determined to chafe his hands. She seized one of 
 
 them for the purpose, when a loud exclamation from her 
 attracted her father's attention. Bessie was examining an 
 amethyst ring upon the man's finger, while her face grew 
 
270 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 paJe as death. She drew the ring away and looked upon 
 the inside of it ; then she gazed steadfastly for a moment 
 in the sailor's face, and with a faint cry swooned away. 
 Mr. Archer pic^d up the fallen ring from the floor and 
 read the inscription in it. It was this — 
 
 " From Bessie Archer to Thomas Freeborn, 
 Christmas, 186 — ." 
 
 This, indeed, was Tom, come back in this strange 
 and dreadful fashion, and led — by what mysterious 
 fate? — to the very feet of the woman he had loved. 
 And when Bessie had recovered herself, she and her 
 father went to work again with renewed earnestness, 
 both with eager hope ; but Bessie with a mighty 
 longing in her heart, which was too overpowering for 
 language. 
 
 Half an hour passed, and Mr. Archer thought he per- 
 ceived a convulsive movement of the chest. They re- 
 doubled their exertions, and presently the breast heaved 
 slowly and painfully, and a sigh escaped from the lips. 
 In a few moments the spark of life which had been so 
 nearly extinguished was rekindled, and the patient was 
 carried to the bed, where, after a few draughts of brandy, 
 consciousness returned, and Tom, suffering intensely, lay 
 moaning and sighing, too feeble to look upon those who 
 had saved him. Then he fell into a deep sleep, and before 
 he awoke Mr. Archer sent for assistance to Star Island. 
 He feared the shock would be fatal if Tom should see 
 and know him or Bessie while he was so ill. 
 
 But careful and tender nursing soon gave him strength, 
 and in a few days Mr. Archer entered the room. Tom in- 
 
7'HE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 2 71 
 
 stantly recognized him ; but even his great surprise did 
 not keep back the words that came first to his lips : " Is 
 Bessie still alive ? " And then Mr. Archer sat beside 
 Tom and told the whole story of his failure, their life at 
 the lighthouse, and his rescue ; and when Bessie entered 
 at his summons, he went out and left those two alone in 
 their great joy. It was too sacred an occasion for the 
 presence of another. It was the bUssful ending of a long 
 night of pain and sorrow and bereavement the dawn of 
 a day of happiness and peace. 
 
 Tom had a very extended story to tell of his adven- 
 tures, but we must make it a brief one here. The vessel 
 which rescued him from the boat was a whaler, outward 
 bound for the Pacific, and he remained upon her for nearly 
 two years. She was driven ashore near Cape Horn, and 
 wrecked as she was coming home, and Tom and the other 
 survivors were left upon the desolate coast in a most for- 
 lorn condition for several months. Finally, they were 
 taken off by a brig bound for Liverpool, and when that 
 port was reached, Tom found a vessel that was about to 
 sail for Portland, Maine. He shipped with her as a 
 sailor before the mast, and just as she was about to 
 end her voyage, she was caught in the great storm, 
 and driven on Smutty Nose Island. Tom said he 
 knew the locality at once, and determined to try to 
 save himself by lashing himself to a spar He became 
 unconscious in the water, and awoke to find himself 
 saved. 
 
 Before another Christmas came around, Tom and 
 Bessie were married; and with his mother's fortune, 
 which he claimed and secured, he gave to Bessie and 
 
272 
 
 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 her farher a comfortable home, where they Uved 
 together in such complete felicity as is surely granted 
 when from a great tribulation the soul comes at last 
 into the full fruition of its hopes and to the serenity of 
 perfect rest. 
 
jr. !^b|«r'$ Jsri^jtttani$«l$, 
 
 HE wife of my neigh- 
 bour, Mr. Archibald 
 N. Fisher, was at- 
 tacked some years 
 ago by a very dan- 
 gerous malady, from 
 which there was, 
 from the first, veiy 
 little hopes of her 
 recovery. And one 
 day when Mr. Fisher 
 came home, they 
 communicated to him the sad intelligence that she was no 
 more. When the first outbreak of grief had subsided, he 
 sent an order to the undertaker for a coffin, he tied crape 
 on the door-knob, he sent his hat around to the store to 
 have it draped in black, he advertised the death in the 
 papers with some poetry attached to the announcement, 
 and he made general preparations for the funeral. Then 
 he sat down in the parlour with his great sorrow, and his 
 
 friends tried to comfort him. 
 i8 
 
274 
 
 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS. 
 
 " It's no use," he said ; " I'll never get over it. There 
 never was any woman like her, and there never will be 
 again. I don't want to live without her. Now she's 
 gone, I'm ready to go any time. I'd welcome the grave. 
 What's life to a man like me ? It's a void - an empty void ; 
 that's what it is; and there is no more happiness in it for 
 me.'' 
 
 " You must try to bear up under it," said Dr. Potts. 
 " These afflictions are meant for our good. She is now 
 an angel." 
 
 " I know ! I know ! " said Mr. Fisher, sobbing, " but 
 there's no comfort in that. An angel is no use to me. 
 Angels don't make your home happy. They don't sew on 
 buttons and look after the children. I'd rather have a 
 ■woman like Mrs. Fisher than the best of them." 
 
 " But," said Dr. Potts, " you must reflect how much 
 happier she is now ; you must remember that our loss is 
 her gain.'' 
 
 '' Well, I don't see it," replied Fisher. " She was happy 
 enough here, bustling around, majting things lively, 
 quarrelling with me sometimes, bless her dear heart, when 
 I annoyed her, and scolding away all day long at the 
 children and the hired girl, making music in the house. 
 Who's she going to scold now, I'd like to know.' 
 How's she going to relieve her feelings when she gets 
 mad ? Flying around in a night-gown with wings on 
 behind her shoulder blades. And what I say is, that if 
 Henrietta had her choice, she rather be home here tending 
 to things, even if every day in the week was a rainy wash- 
 day. Now I know she would." 
 
 " You take a gloomy view of things now," said Dr. 
 
MR. fISHER 'S SERE A VE&IENTS. 275 
 
 Potts. "After a while the skies will seem brighter to 
 you." 
 
 " No, they won't," said Mr. Fisher. " They'll grow 
 darker until there's a regular awful thunderstorm of grief. 
 I can't live through it. It'll kill me. I've a notion to 
 jump into Henrietta's grave and be buried with her. I've 
 got half a mind to commit suicide, so I can — • " 
 
 Just here the doctor came downstairs and into the 
 parlour, with a smile on his face. Mr. Fisher saw it, and 
 stopping abruptly, he said : 
 
 " Dr. BumSrhow you can smile in the midst of the 
 awful desolation of this family, is more than I can under- 
 stand, and I don't " 
 
 " I've got some good news for you, Mr. Fisher," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " No, you haven't," said Fisher. " There can be no 
 more good news for me in this world." 
 
 " Mrs. Fisher is alive.'' 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 " Mrs. Fisher is alive," said the doctor. " She was 
 only in a condition of suspended animation after all. 
 She'll be perfectly well, I think, in a few days." 
 
 Mr. Fisher wiped his eyes, and with a frown upon his 
 face put his handkerchief in his pocket, and said : 
 
 " You don't really mean to say Mrs. Fisher's going to 
 rise up from her bed, and remain alive ? Going to remain 
 here with us ? " 
 
 " Precisely ! and I congratulate you heartily.'' 
 
 " Oh, you needn't congratulate nte^' exclaimed Fisher, 
 rising and looking gloomily out of the window. " This is a 
 pretty piece of business ! But it's just like Henrietta. She 
 
276 MH. FISHES 'S BEREA VEMENTS. 
 
 always was the contrariest woman in the state ! Who's 
 going to pay the undertaker's bill, I'd like to know ? She 
 can just do it herself; and the advertising, and that 
 poetry, and the crape, and all the things ! I never heard 
 of such foolishness ! It makes me mad for women to be 
 
 carrying on so ! Hanged if I'm going to " 
 
 Just here the boy came in with Mr. Fisher's hat, with a 
 weed around it, and Fisher, giving the hat a savage kick, 
 said to the boy ; 
 
 " You miserable Uttle scoundrel, get out of here, or 
 I'll break your neck.'' 
 
 Then the company adjourned, and Fisher, taking the 
 crape off the door-knob, went around to see the undertaker. 
 But Mrs. Fisher did not get well. Two or three days 
 later she suffered a relapse, and within a week she passed 
 peacefully away. Upon the same day one of Mr, Fisher's 
 fellow-townsmen, Lucius Grant, lost his wife, and the 
 interments were made in the cemetery upon the same day, 
 and at about the same hour. 
 
 As the two funeral parties were coming out of the 
 burying ground, Fisher met Grant, and clasping each 
 other's hand they indulged in a sympathetic squeeze, and 
 the following conversation ensued : 
 
 Fisher — " I'm sorry for you. It's an unspeakable loss, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 Grant— '■^ Awful. She was the best woman that ever 
 lived." 
 
 Fisher — " She was indeed. I never met her equal. 
 She was a good wife to me." 
 
 Grant — " I was referring to my wife. There couldn't 
 be two best you know.'' 
 
' ^^' -"' — -^g'^S"-; 'Ji -Mjiaijicir^^ 
 
 ' They indulged in a sympathetic squeeze." — Page 276. 
 
278 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS. 
 
 Fisher — " Yes, I know. I know well enough that 
 your wife couldn't hold a candle to mine." 
 
 Grant — " She couldn't, hey ? Couldn't hold a candle. 
 Why she could lead Mrs. Fisher every day in the week, 
 including Sundays, and not half try ! She was an angel." 
 
 Fisher — " Oh, she was, was she ? Well, I don't want 
 to be personal, but if I owned an angel as bony as an 
 omnibus horse, I'd kill her if she didn't die of her own 
 accord." 
 
 Grant— "■ Better be bony than wear the kind of a red 
 nose that your wife flourished around this community. 
 It'll burn a hole through the coffin lid. And you pretend 
 you're sorry she's gone. But you can't impose on me ! 
 I know you're glad enough to hurrah about it." 
 
 Fisher — " If you abuse my wife, I'll knock you down." 
 
 Grant—" I'd like to see you try it." 
 
 There would have been a hand-to-hand combat be- 
 tween the two disconsolate widowers, if the friends of the 
 parties had not interfered at this juncture. Grant's friends 
 thrust him in a carriage, and drove away, while Fisher 
 was put in the carriage with Rev. Dr. Potts, and he spent 
 the time consumed by the journey in giving expression to 
 his sorrow for the loss of his wife. 
 
 " Doctor," he said, " in one respect I never saw her 
 equal. I've known that dear woman to take an old pair 
 of my trousers, and cut them up for the boys. She'd 
 make a splendid suit of clothes for both of them out of 
 those old trousers, get out stuff enough for a coat for the 
 baby, and a cap for Johnny, and have some left over for 
 rag- carpet, besides making handkerchiefs out of the 
 pockets, and a bustle for herself out of the other linings. 
 
MR. FISHER 'S BEREA VEMENTS. 
 
 279 
 
 Give her any old garment, and it was as good as a gold 
 mkie. She'd take a worn-out stocking and make a brand 
 new overcoat out of it, ^ 
 
 I believe. She had a -^ 
 
 turn for that kind of 
 economy. There's one 
 of my shirts that I 
 bought in 1847, still 
 going about making 
 itself useful as window 
 curtains and panta- 
 lettes, and plenty of 
 other things. Only last 
 July our gridiron gave 
 out, and she took it 
 apart, and in two hours 
 it was rigged on the 
 side of the house as a 
 splendid lightning rod, 
 all except what she had 
 made into a poker and an ice-pick. Ingenious ? Why, 
 she kept our family in buttons and whistles out of the 
 ham bones she saved, and she made fifteen chicken-coops 
 from her old hoop skirts, and a pig-pen out of her used- 
 up corset bones. She never wasted a solitary thing. Let 
 a cat die around our house, and the first thing you knew 
 Maryjane'd have a muff and set of furs, and I begin to 
 find mince-pies on the dinner-table. She'd stuff a feather 
 bed with the feathers that she'd got off of one little bit of 
 a rooster. I've seen her cook potato parings so's you'd 
 think they were canvas-back duck, and she had a way of 
 
28o 
 
 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS. 
 
 doctoring up shavings, so that the pig'd eat 'em and grow 
 fat on 'em. I believe that woman could a built a four- 
 storey hotel, if you'd a given her a single pine board ; or a 
 steamboat out of a wash-boiler ; and the very last thing 
 she said to me was to bury her in the garden so's she'd be 
 useful down below there, helping to shove up the cab- 
 bages. I'll never see her like again." 
 
 When the mourners all got home, Mr. Grant tied 
 crape upon all his window-shutters, to show how deeply 
 he mourned, and as Fisher knew that his grief for Mrs. 
 Fisher was deeper, he not only decorated his shutters, 
 but he fixed five yards of black bombazine on the bell- 
 pull, and dressed his whole family in mourning. Then 
 Grant determined that his duty to the departed was not 
 
 to let himself be beaten by a man who couldn't feel any 
 genuine sorrow, so he sewed a black flag on his lightning- 
 rod, and festooned the front of his house with black 
 alpaca. 
 
 Then Fisher became excited, and he expressed his 
 sense of bereavement by painting his dwelling black, and 
 by putting up a monument to Mrs. Fisher in his front 
 yard. Grant thereupon stained his yellow horse with 
 lampblack, tied crape to his cow's horn, daubed 4iis dog 
 
MJi. FISHER 'S BE RE A VEMENTS. 2 8 1 
 
 with ink, and began to wipe his nose on a black hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 These little indulgences in generous rivalry lasted for 
 nearly a year ; and it is impossible to say what would 
 have been the result of the contest, had not Fisher, in the 
 midst of his sorrow, suddenly discovered in his heart a 
 deep affection for a Miss Lang, a young lady who hap- 
 pened to be visiting one of Fisher's friends. Fisher 
 began to pay her attention, and as he did so, he gradually 
 removed the manifestations of his grief for the dear 
 departed. 
 
 A year later they were married, and this made Mr. 
 Grant so angry, that he went around to the widow Jones's, 
 and proposed, and was accepted on the spot 
 
 Miss Lang was the fourth woman to whom Fisher has 
 been married; and this fact was the cause of a very 
 unpleasant incident. 
 
 Parker had been out in California for nearly thirty 
 years ; but last winter he came on East and paid a visit 
 to his old home. Among other acquaintances of former 
 days he met Mr. Fisher, and Fisher mentioned that he 
 was sorry his wife was out of town as he would like Parker 
 to see her. 
 
 " And how is she ? " asked Parker. " I remember 
 her well. Mary Jones she was before you married her. 
 Splendid woman ! And how is she anyhow ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to say Mary is dead ; been dead more 
 than twenty years." 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon,'' said Parker. " Excuse me for 
 stirring up old griefs. But how is your second wife? 
 Fine-looking woman, I'll bet, Fisher ! You were always 
 
282 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS. 
 
 the awfuUest man at falling in love with pretty women I 
 ever saw. What is she ? Brunette, I venture to say. Are 
 you going to introduce me to her ? " 
 
 " It's not — not a pleasant subject to discuss — but— but 
 — my second wife was laid away in the grave more than 
 fifteen years ago." 
 
 " You don't say ? Oh ! I know, of course— your second 
 wife, of course, dead ; I forgot about it. Did I say your 
 second wife .'' 1 meant your third instead of your second. 
 And how is she? Fisher, I must know that woman. 
 Introduce me, will you ? Hang me if I don't stay in town 
 until I know her.'' 
 
 " That will be impossible, Mr. Parker. My" third wife 
 has been an angel ever since 1865." 
 
 " Well, now, I declare it's too bad ; I had no idea— of 
 course, I didn't mean anything. Less see, it's ten years 
 since 1865, ain't it? Ten, yes. Well, now, old fellow, you'll 
 forgive me for tearing up your feelings that way ; but I'll 
 make it all right by asking how in thunder is your present 
 wife — your fifth 1 " 
 
 " Mr. Parker, you are mistaken again. I have no fifth 
 wife. I " 
 
 " Well, then, your sixth. How is she ? Pardon me, 
 old boy, for saying that you have been going it. Six wives 
 in thirty years, and here I am not married yet. Now 
 how is Mrs. Fisher No. 6 ? " 
 
 " Mr. Parker, the lady with whom I live at present is 
 my fourth wife. I don't like the tone in which you speak 
 of this subject." 
 
 " Don't like it ! Well, it seems to me, Fisher, that 
 for a man who marries them and buries them as fast 
 
MR. FISHER 'S BEREA VEMENTS. 
 
 283 
 
 as you do, to talk about sensibility upon the subject 
 is a little more than ridiculous. I don't care how your 
 wife is, or when you get another one. But if you take 
 my advice, you will have your undertaking business done 
 by contract at wholesale rates." 
 
 Then Mr. Parker took the earliest through-train for 
 California. 
 
 ^.QJLL^ 
 

 
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 s 
 
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 ^^^-^ ^ 
 
 
 
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 4- 
 
 feS^ 
 
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 WITH 
 
 SOME REFLECTIONS CONCERNING CERTAIN 
 MORAL IDIOTS. 
 
 VERYBODY is 
 acquainted with 
 persons, who in 
 their ordinary 
 conversation,con- 
 stantly and as a 
 habit violate the 
 truth. It is done 
 obviously in sheer 
 wantonness, when 
 there is nothing 
 to be gained by 
 it, and when no 
 motive is perceptible. One of these persons will begin a 
 conversation with a palpable falsehoodwhichdoes not even 
 glorify himself, and which, he must be aware, cannot be 
 believed by the person to whom he is talking. That a man 
 should lie for purposes of profit, or even with the intent to 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 285 
 
 exaggerate his personal importance, is perfectly comprehen- 
 sible ; but why a person should, as a rule set truth at defiance 
 without the smallest provocation, and apparently without 
 any sense of shame at the reflection that his mendacity is 
 perceived by the listener, is a very difficult question 
 
 The habitual liars not only do this, but if their veracity 
 is called in question, or their attention is directed to the 
 nature of the obligations imposed by the Ninth Com- 
 mandment, they become indignant, and resent the impu- 
 tation as hotly as if they had sworn fealty to Truth for 
 ever, and were shocked at the impeachment of their 
 honour. The better plan usually is to receive the false- 
 hoods in silence, for an attempt to refute them will pro- 
 bably provoke the invention of a swarm of fortifying fibs. 
 A grey-headed old man, while sailing into a certain har- 
 bour with the writer, pointed to a mud-dredge, and calmly 
 said that the machine could excavate twenty-five thousand 
 cubic yards of mud at one revolution. He had no interest 
 in the dredge, neither had his companion. He felt the 
 impulse to lie at that moment, and the dredge happened 
 to cross the range of his vision opportunely. If he had 
 chanced to see a grain elevator or a frigate or a floating 
 barrel, it is likely that he would have organized an equally 
 picturesque falsehood upon another basis. To argue with 
 him would have been more than useless. He would im- 
 mediately have libelled the multiplication table by trying 
 to prove that four times four are twenty-five thousand. 
 
 An officer of the American navy, during the Civil War, 
 wrote home to one of his firiends that while his ship was 
 passing the forts below New Orleans, a fifteen-inch shell 
 exploded among a crowd of eleven persons in the engine- 
 
286 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 room, and didn't scratch a man. Another officer, a captain 
 in the same navy, used to entertain his shipmates with 
 stories about two magnificent but wholly imaginary 
 chargers that he had at home. One day he said that he 
 had received a letter conveying the painful intelligence 
 that the noble steeds were dead. Pretty soon he forgot 
 that he had framed that story, and for the remainder 
 of the cruise he talked about the horses as if they were 
 living, and he even went so far as to buy a handsome 
 set of harness for them at the first port of stoppage. 
 These are but representatives of the great body of liars 
 who live in every community. The latter lie about their 
 achievements, their acquaintances, their houses, their 
 business, and even their religion. If anybody makes a 
 statement in their presence, they cap it instantly with a 
 stronger statement of the same nature. Their ingenuity 
 and readiness are astonishing. Their complete oblivious- 
 ness of the fact that they utterly contradict to-day what 
 they said yesterday, is wonderful ; and it is not less sur- 
 prising to observe that they will speak in terms of severe 
 censure of other persons who are suspected of similar 
 practices. 
 
 It is not a little curious to note that this propensity 
 very often runs in families. It is, without doubt, some- 
 times hereditary, and this fact may tend to explain it upon 
 the theory that it is a peculiar form of moral idiocy. It 
 is, perhaps, to the mind what colour-bhndness is to the 
 eye. In the moral and mental constitution of the habitual 
 liar there is, as an Irishman would express it, a bump that 
 is a hole. The quality which enables ordinary men to 
 reverence the truth and to feel the shame of falsehood, is 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABATER BYNG. 287 
 
 wanting; and, meanwhile, the imagination has undue 
 activity. There is absolute deadness of one faculty, and 
 abnormal development of another. There is the intel- 
 lectual colour-blindness which is not conscious of the 
 difference between blue truth and red falsehood. A great 
 many good Christian people will scout this suggestion and 
 shake the Ninth Commandment fiercely at the liars. But 
 wise men, who are beginning to appreciate the fact that 
 psychology is a science whose shallowest depths have 
 hardly been sounded, who comprehend that the imperfect 
 constitution of the human mind is the parent of a vast 
 amount of crime, and who realize that a man whose soul 
 has malformation is not more responsible for its faulty 
 action than a man with a misshapen leg is for his awkward 
 gait, will accept this theory readily. The monumental liar 
 always excites derision and scorn. Perhaps he ought to 
 excite pity. The very frequency of his occurrence in ordi- 
 nary society is a testimony to the fact that he is the victim 
 of a somewhat common malady, rather than a deliberate 
 and malicious sinner. 
 
 Whether Abner Byng was a mere wanton enemy of 
 the truth, or only a moral idiot, perhaps cannot be deter- 
 mined; but he has a clear right to rank high as an 
 organizer of magnificent and sweeping falsehoods. He 
 has been a sailor, and when he begins to talk about his 
 voyages he draws the long bow wrfh a vigorous hand. 
 
 " You see," said Abner, one day to a little company 
 whom he had met at the hotel in our county town, after 
 the adjournment of the Court — "you see I was once a 
 sailor before the mast, on a vessel which was cruising 
 about in the South Atlantic Ocean. 
 
288 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 " She was a very small vessel, and so frail that I was 
 afraid all the time she would go to pieces ; but she didn't. 
 It happened one day that I was sent aloft to nail a 
 block of some kind on the top of the mainmast, and as 
 we had no hatchet I took an axe. I hit the mast three 
 or four pretty stiff knocks, when all of a sudden I thought 
 I felt the mast go down with a jerk. But it looked all 
 right, and 1 thought it couldn't possibly be. So I came 
 down and said nothing about it. 
 
 " Three or four days afterwards the mate said to the 
 captain : 
 
 " ' Cap., it's queer we don't sight land by this time.' 
 
 " ' Very queer,' said the captain. 
 
 " ' And what's more funny about it is that for several 
 days past my instruments have made us out to be in pre- 
 cisely the same latitude and longitude.' 
 
 " ' Maybe something's the matter with the sun.' 
 
 " ' Or perhaps the parallels of latitude have shifted.' 
 
 " ' Or you may have made a mistake in your figures.' 
 
 " ' I didn't think of that,' said the mate. 
 
 "So they took another observation, and found that 
 they were in precisely the same place. Everybody was 
 frightened, and it was not until after a close examination 
 that it was at last ascertained that I had actually driven 
 that mainmast through the bottom of the . ship into the 
 mud, where it had stuc^ fast, and the old tub had been 
 spinning round and round, like a weather-cock on a 
 steeple, all this time, without anybody knowing it. 
 
 " To say that the captain was mad, don't describe his 
 condition. He roared around so about it, that I got scaled 
 and hid myself in an old cask in the hold. There I lay 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 289 
 
 all day, when it was decided to heave part of the cargo 
 overboard, to lighten|ship, and the cask I was in was headed 
 up, and the whole concern was tossed into the water. 
 
 " I was in that barrel about four days. It was a little 
 crowded, to be sure, and it would roll some, but on the 
 whole it was comfortable. One day I felt myself tossed 
 on shore, and then I was so certain of saving my life, that 
 I turned over and took a good nap. 
 
 "I was waked by something tickling my face. At first 
 I thought it was a mosquito, but then I remembered that 
 no mosquito could have got into the barrel. I brushed 
 at it again, and caught it. It was a straw. I gave it a 
 jerk. Something knocked against the barrel outside, and 
 I heard the word : 
 
 " ' Thunder ! ' 
 
 " Then another straw was inserted, and I pulled it 
 still harder ; I heard this exclamation : 
 
 " • Thun-der-r-r-r ! ' 
 
 " Still another straw came through the bung-hole, and 
 as I caught it, I saw there was a man outside trying to 
 suck something through the straw ; and whenever \ pulled 
 it it knocked his nose against the barrel. So I gave it 
 one more pull, and then, kicking the head out of the cask, 
 I introduced myself to him. 
 
 " He was a Dutchman named Schuyler, and he told 
 me, in his native tongue, which I spoke with difficulty, — 
 that I had come ashore in Dutch Guiana. He was a good 
 sort of fellow. I went up home with him, and was intro- 
 duced to his wife and his three daughters. 
 
 " The latter were splendid girls ; but they were so 
 much alike, that I could never tell one from the other. I 
 19 
 
Kicking the head out of the cask, I introduced myself." — Page 2S9. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 291 
 
 fell in love with one of them — I never could tell which, and 
 I courted them just as they happened to come along. 
 
 " One day they all came into the drawing-room toge- 
 ther. They were furious. They said 1 had promised each 
 of them to marry her, and each repeated the fond words I 
 had whispered to her, and accused me of treachery. 
 
 " It looked stormy for me. To conciliate them, I 
 offered to marry them all, and to take them to Salt Lake ; 
 or to cut myself in three pieces ; or to drown myself with 
 them and perish in four watery graves. 
 
 " Respectfully and firmly declined. 
 
 " Then they all went out. After a while one came in 
 and said : 
 
 " ' Abner, dear, let us elope together, and leave these 
 horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we can 
 be happy in the fulness of each other's love.' 
 
 " ' I will think it over, my angel,' said I 
 
 " She passed out. Then one of them came in again. 
 
 " ' Abner, dear, let us fly together, and leave these 
 horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we 
 can be happy in the fulness of each other's love.' 
 
 " ' I say, 1 will think it over, my own angel.' 
 
 " And she disappeared. But she seemed anxious, so 
 in she came again 
 
 " ' Abner, dear, let us fly together, and leave these 
 horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we can 
 be happy in the fulness of each other's love.' 
 
 " ' You've said that three times, and that's enough. My 
 mmd fully grasps the idea. I say I'll think it over.' 
 
 " ' Why, I never said it before,' says she. 
 
 "'You didn't.?' I exclaimed. 
 
292 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 " ' Certainly not ! ' 
 
 " I saw it all. Each of them had approached me with 
 the same proposition. It was clear that I must fly. I 
 made up my mind to take the first boat that left Dutch 
 Guiana for anywheres. 
 
 " That night I walked to town, and shipped on a 
 barque that had just loaded a cargo of mahogany for 
 Liverpool, and next morning I was at sea. 
 
 " I have been subject all my life to cataleptic fits, 
 during which I seem to be dead. On the tenth day out, 
 one of these fits attacked me, and the doctor, after feeUng 
 my pulse, said I was a corpse. 
 
 ",They determined to bury me. Contrary to custom 
 at sea, they made me a substantial coffin out of mahogany 
 boards ; and as they were rather short of nails, they tied 
 the lid on with pieces of marlin-twine. A hundred-pound 
 shot was fastened to the foot of the coffin, and the Epis- 
 copal service was read over the body. Then the word was 
 given, and the whole concein was launched into the sea. 
 
 " All this time there I had been lying, unable to move 
 hand or foot, or to speak, but I was conscious, and I had 
 heard all that went on around me, and even followed every 
 sentence of the Burial Service. 
 
 "You can imagine the frightful agony I endured. The 
 plunge into the cold water, however, revived me, and I 
 recovered the use of my faculties only in time to find 
 myself going down to the bottom of the ocean at the rate 
 of about one mile a minute. The water was jiist two 
 miles in depth, and before I could budge, I had struck 
 bottom. Fortunately they had buried me in my sailor 
 clothes, and I had a jack-knife with me. I instantly 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 293 
 
 drew it, slipped the blade in the crack between the lid 
 and the coffin, cut the marlin-twine, severed the rope that 
 held the shot, clutched the sides of my narrow apartment, 
 and began to ascend with frightful velocity. 
 
 "When I reached the surface the impetus gained, 
 threw the coffin three feet into the air, and it came down 
 right side up, with me lying in it snug and comfortable, 
 only I was a little wet and hungry. I had been 
 under water precisely 
 five minutes, and I 
 couldn't possibly have 
 held my breath a se- 
 cond longer, so it was 
 lucky the sea was not 
 deeper just there. I 
 must have drifted 
 somewhat for the ves- 
 sel was just visible 
 on the horizon. The 
 velocity of the ocean 
 currents will account 
 for this. 
 
 " While coming up, 
 the end of the coffin 
 struck against a large 
 fish, stunning it so, 
 that I secured it with- 
 out difficulty when I got to the top, and despatched it 
 with a knife. I tied it to the coffin with a piece of 
 the marlin-twine, and as I floated along day after 
 day I cut steaks off the fish to support my life. It 
 
294 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF ASNER BYNG. 
 
 was fortunate that I was buried in a coffin, as I must 
 inevitably have been drowned otherwise. I was lucky, also, 
 in capturing the fish, or I would have starved to death. 
 
 " Well, I sailed along nicely enough for about a week, 
 only I began to get tired of such close quarters, when one 
 day I ran against an iceberg of the most enormous dimen- 
 sions. I immediately clambered upon it, dragged the 
 coffin up after me, and sat down to consider what I had 
 better do next. 
 
 "An idea struck me ; I would explore the iceberg, which 
 
 was about five miles long, and, in some places at least, half 
 
 a mile high. So I pulled the fish from the water, or rather 
 
 ■ the remains of the fish, and, taking two of the largest bones, 
 
 I made myself 
 an excellent 
 pair of skates, 
 which I tied 
 to my feet with 
 marlin-twine. I 
 found that I 
 could get along 
 very rapidly with 
 these, and at 
 once I started 
 upon a tour. 
 
 "I hadn't gone 
 more than a mile 
 and a half, when 
 I stumbled over 
 the dead body of a sailor, with a fishing rod and line 
 in his hand. The man, evidently, had come off of his 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 295 
 
 ship to catch some fish, and had been lost and frozen to 
 death. 
 
 " I took the rod and line from him, together with one 
 or two articles of clothing, and proceeded to return to my 
 coffin. After lighting a fire with some splinters of the 
 coffin, and cooking some of the fish 1 already had, I con- 
 cluded to go a-fishing. Baiting the hook, I flung it over- 
 board. I got a few nibbles at first, but directly 1 felt a 
 good bite, and I pulled up. It was an ordinary herring. 
 Before I got it fairly out of the water, a fifty-pound sea- 
 bass leaped up and swallowed it 
 
 ' ' All right,' thought 1, 'I'd rather have you anyway,' 
 and I hauled in on it. 
 
 " Strange to say, 1 hadn't more than got the sea bass's 
 tail out, than a sturgeon appeared and took it down at a gulp. 
 
 '' ' Still better,' thought I, as I kept on reeling in my 
 line. But I was destined to further annoyance ; no sooner 
 had I got the sturgeon pretty well up, than the biggest 
 shark I ever saw, stuck his nose out and took the sturgeon 
 down without chewing him. 
 
 "'Very extraordinary, upon my word,' thought I, as I 
 still pulled my line in. But hardly had I comprehended 
 the situation, when a whale swam up, and seeing the 
 shark swallowed it 
 
 " I was pleased ; any man would be under such circum- 
 stances. I tied the line to a huge icicle,, and so held the 
 whale fast The whale died that night from indigestion, 
 and I, drawing the other fish from him, began to enjoy 
 myself as well as I could. 
 
 " The days were very short, and I experienced much 
 annoyance from the continual darkness, until another idea 
 
296 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 struck me. I took the ^^ad sailor's shirt, tore it into 
 narrow strips, ran the strips through the bamboo fishing 
 pole, and stuck the pole into the fattest portion of the 
 whale that floated alongside. I then lit the end of the strip 
 that protruded from the bamboo, and produced a most 
 brilliant light. The rays were reflected from the whole 
 iceberg, and the glare was so intense that the sea was 
 lighted up for miles, and I was compelled to look away 
 from the ice to avoid going blind ; but my left eye was, 
 nevertheless, somewhat injured. 
 
 '■ Thus I lived for nearly a month, until one day I hap- 
 pened to observe a piece of wood sticking out of the wall 
 of ice beside me. I grasped it and tried to move it, but 
 without success. While I was working at it, the iceberg 
 chanced to run aground, and it spht into pieces with a 
 noise like the firing of a million cannon. I felt the ice 
 giving way beneath my feet, and I grasped the piece of 
 wood and hung on. As the berg fell to pieces, I found 
 that I had hold of the bowsprit of a ship which had been 
 embedded in the ice, but which was now floating, as good 
 as ever, in the ocean. 
 
 " To clamber down and get on the deck was the work 
 of an instant. And there I found the captain and crew 
 all frozen to death. 
 
 " It was lucky that I found this ship, or I would cer- 
 tainly have been drowned when the iceberg went to pieces. 
 There were twenty dead men on the vessel, and after 
 having twenty funerals, I set to work to load the craft 
 with the pieces of ice which floated around me. Having 
 secured a full cargo, I set sail, and proceeded due south, to 
 hunt for a market for the ice. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 297 
 
 " On the third day, I was chased by a pirate, and 
 having no artillery on board, and with such a small crew, 
 too, 1 took a barrel of gunpowder, stuck a half-hour fuse 
 in the bunghole, lighted the fuse, and flung the barrel over- 
 board, right in the track of his vessel. The pirate struck 
 the barrel, there was an explosion, and the pursuer was 
 blown to atoms. Only one man was picked up, and I 
 made him one of my crew. 
 But the man mutinied, and I 
 formed myself into a court- 
 martial, brought the man 
 before me, tried him, found 
 him guilty, and then the 
 court took the crew out and 
 hung him at the yard-arm. 
 
 " At the end of a month, I 
 ran into the harbour of one 
 of the Fejee Islands, and, just as I dropped anchor, a canoe 
 put off from shore and came alongside. It contained the 
 chief of the tribe which inhabited the island. I gave him 
 a salute of twenty-one guns, with an old blunderbuss which 
 I found on board, and received him, hat in hand, as he 
 
 came over the gangway. 
 
 "'How are you, sir?' said I to the chief; 'I hope 
 
 you're well. I just dropped around to see if you should 
 
 be wanting any ice. I've got a fine cargo here, which 
 
 I'm selling off at reduced rates.' 
 
 '■ There was yellow fever in the island, and ice was the 
 
 very thing the chief wanted worse than anything else. So 
 
 I cleared my cargo out at an immense bargain, and went 
 
 ashore with the chief. 
 
298 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 " When the people heard I had brought them a whole 
 ship load of ice, they went frantic with joy. A public 
 reception was tendered me, and I was voted a national 
 benefactor. The people rehearsed my praises all over the 
 island, and a grand inass-meeting was held, at which I 
 was proclaimed Prime Minister of the country, and second 
 only in authority to the chief who had come off to see me. 
 I left the vessel at anchor in the harbour, accepted the 
 office, and lived there for four years and eight months, 
 enjoying myself hugely, and amassing great wealth. 
 
 "The people were cannibals, but I could never entirely 
 overcome my aversion to man-meat, and, one day when 
 they had roast missionary on the table at a public ban- 
 quet, I refused to touch a morsel, and left the room in 
 disgust. This enraged the fickle mob, and I was arrested, 
 tried, and condemned to be broiled to death on the state 
 gridiron. On the appointed day, a huge fire was built in 
 the square of the city, and, when it had burned to coals, 
 
 the immense gridiron was placed upon it, and I was 
 stripped and carefully laid upon the gridiron. 
 
 " I bore the inexpressible torture for a time, but after 
 a while, making an excuse that I wanted to turn over, I 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 299 
 
 leaped up, seized the gridiron, and bravely attacking the 
 crowd, killed two hundred of them with the hot gridiron, 
 and put the rest to flight. 
 
 " About three hundred of the more timid savages, in 
 an agony of terror, swam > 
 
 out in the harbour, and 
 secreted themselves in the 
 hold of my ship. I also 
 sought refuge there, and, 
 finding my enemies in the 
 vessel, I fastened down 
 the hatches, weighed an- 
 chor, and sailed out to sea 
 before the people on shore could recover from their alarm. 
 
 " I hadn't proceeded more than twenty miles before I 
 observed three shipwrecked sailors floating on a hen-coop. 
 I picked them up, and, strange to say, they were my two 
 brothers and my nephew, whom I had not seen for twelve 
 years. Of course, the meeting was affecting beyond ex- 
 pression, all four of us melting into tears, and sobbing as 
 if our hearts would break. Now that I had a crew, I had 
 no trouble in navigating the ship, so I sailed for Cuba, 
 where I sold the three hundred natives in the hold for 
 slaves, at one thousand dollars a-piece, and then I set sail 
 for Philadelphia, and got home just in time to receive the 
 dying embrace of my mother, who very naturally had 
 mourned for me as dead for ten years.'' 
 
 When Abner Byng finished this recital, he cleared his 
 throat, called for a mug of ale, drank it, lighted the stump 
 of a cigar, and said : — 
 
 " Some men lie about their adventures, but that always 
 
300 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 
 
 seemed to me to be wrong. When I deviate from the truth 
 a half-an-inch, I want somebody to kick me — to kick me 
 hard." 
 
 Then slowly uprose Thomas Dundas, a farmer who 
 had been on the petit jury that day. Coming near to 
 Abner, he gave him a fearful kick, which moved him a 
 dozen feet or more toward the door. 
 
 At first Abner seemed indignant ; he appeared to be 
 eager for war. But when he had eyed Dundas for a 
 moment, a smile stole gently over his face, and he said : — 
 
 " Squire, you're the quickest man to take a hint that I 
 ever come across " 
 
 And then Abner Byng adjourned. 
 
Hij. luumbt i\^ ^nhtinkn. 
 
 HERE is a certain oddity 
 about the fact that when 
 death overtakes a hu- 
 man being, man under- 
 takes Iiim. It is equally 
 odd that while to every 
 mind the word " under- 
 taker" suggests one 
 who is eager to "talk of 
 graves, and worms, and 
 ' epitaphs," the diction- 
 aries define an under- 
 taker as " one who 
 under takes," making no reference to his claim to be con- 
 sidered purely as a funereal functionary. Precisely why 
 this personage, of all those who engage in undertakings, 
 should be distinguished as /Ae undertaker, has been a 
 puzzle to many ; but the explanation probably may be 
 found in the primary signification of the word " under- 
 take," which is, of course, to taie under, the duty of the 
 
302 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 
 
 undertaker being to perform that service for those who 
 are ready for the grave. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Toombs, the leading undertaker of the 
 village of which I write, had originally been a physician 
 in a town of Iowa, but he was compelled to leave the 
 place because of a difficulty that he had with some of his 
 patients. 
 
 The doctor, it seems, had a large tank placed on the 
 top of his house, from which to supply his bath-room, and 
 so forth, with water. The water had to be pumped up 
 about fifty feet from the cistern in the yard, and the doc- 
 tor found it to be a pretty good-sized job, which would 
 cause him constant expense. So after thinking the matter 
 over very carefully, one day an idea struck him. He built 
 a room over the cistern, and put the word "Sanitarium" 
 over the door. Then he concealed the pump machinery 
 beneath the floor, and he rigged up a kind of complicated 
 apparatus, with handles, and hinges, and a crank, so that 
 a man, by standing in the middle of the machine and 
 pulling the handle up and down, would operate the pump. 
 
 Then the doctor got out circulars and published ad- 
 vertisements about " Toombs's Patent Health-Lift," and he 
 secured testimonials from a thousand or so people, who 
 agreed that the Health-Lift was the only hope for the 
 physical salvation of the human race. Pretty soon people 
 began to call to see about it, and Toombs would rush 
 them out to the " Sanitarium," and set them to jerk- 
 ing the handles. And when a customer had pumped up 
 fifty gallons or so, Toombs would charge him a fee, and 
 tell him that three months of that sort of thing would 
 give him muscles like a prize-fighter. 
 
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 303 
 
 He would push the project among his patients. If a 
 man was bilious, or had the toothache, or was afflicted 
 with rheumatism, or croup, or yellow fever, or cholera 
 morbus, Toombs would turn him at the Health- Lift, and 
 get a tee each time. The thing became so popular that 
 he had to enlarge his tank, and put in a smaller pump ; 
 and he not only got all his pumping done for nothing, but 
 the people who did it paid him about fifteen hundred 
 dollars a year for the privilege. It began to look like in 
 uncommonly good thing, and everybody was contented 
 and happy. 
 
 One day, however, old Mr. Maginnis, who had been 
 practising at the Health-Lift every day for months, in 
 order to cure himself of indigestion, jammed the handles 
 down a little too hard, and broke the board upon which 
 he was standing. As the board gave way, it plunged Mr. 
 Maginnis into the cistern, and just as he was sinking for 
 the third time, Toombs fished him out with a crooked 
 nail in the end of a clothes-prop. As soon as the water 
 was drained out of him, Maginnis said : 
 
 "I didn't know you had a cistern under that floor. 
 What did you do that fqr .? " 
 
 "Why, to keep the air moist. It is healthier than dry 
 air." 
 
 " It looked to me as if there was some kind of a 
 pump under there.'' 
 
 " Oh, no ; those are only the levers of the Lift." 
 
 " Mighty queer," said Maginnis, thoughtfully. " If 
 that isn't a pump, then I don't know one when I see it." 
 
 So a few days later Maginnis came around with a lot 
 of other patients, and found the doctor out. They deter- 
 
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 305 
 
 mined to investigate. They pulled up a couple of boards, 
 and ascertained the facts about the pump. Then they 
 cross-examined Toombs' servant-girl, and learned about 
 the truth, and then they went home mad. A consultation 
 was held, at which every bilious and rheumatic individual, 
 who had been working the doctor's pump, used violent 
 language, and talked about murder and sudden death. 
 Finally they resolved to prosecute Toombs for damages, 
 and for obtaining money under false pretences. 
 
 Toombs concluded to fly, in order to save trouble ; so 
 he came east, and finding that there was less risk and 
 more money in burying people than in slaying them, he 
 resolved to begin business as an undertaker. 
 
 He has had some curious and interesting experiences, 
 and not the least curious was that afforded by the cele- 
 brated Cadwallader case. 
 
 In the town there are two families of Cadwalladers, 
 and at one time the head of each was named Henry. 
 
 One Henry was a store-keeper, anS the other was a 
 butcher, and neither was related in any way to the other. 
 About the middle of June, the butcher died rather sud- 
 denly ; but somehow the impression got out around town 
 that it was the other Henry. Late one evening a waggon 
 droveup in front of the living Cadwallader'sl house, and a 
 man rung the bell. Cadwallader was in bed . He arose, 
 opened the window, and shouted : 
 "Who's there?" 
 "I; Toombs!" 
 
 " Toombs ! Who's Toombs .? What d'yqu w^nt ? " 
 "Why, I've just run around with a load of ice for the 
 old man. Let me in, so's I can fix him." 
 
3o6 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 
 
 " Dunno what you mean. Nobody around here wants 
 fixing with ice. We're temperance people.'' 
 
 "No, no; I'm the undertaker. I have brought it 
 around to pack the deceased man in. Hurry up, sonny. 
 I want to get done and go home.'' 
 
 " What deceased man ? " 
 
 " Why, Cadwallader. Don't you know, if he isn't laid 
 in ice, he won't keep ; and that will afflict his family like 
 thunder." 
 
 " I guess you've struck the wrong house.'' 
 
 " Isn't this Henry Cadwallader's place ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, he's my man. I've got a coffin in here 
 that'll fit him like a glove, after we've frozen him up a while. 
 Le' me in's quick as yotfcan, and I'll show you the silver- 
 plated handles and the mahogany trimmings of the coffin. 
 A duke don't want anything more gorgeous than they are." 
 
 While Toombs was speaking, another man came up 
 and rang the bell^ and Cadwallader asked- him what he 
 wanted. 
 
 ''Want to see Mrs. Cadwallader about the tomb- 
 stone.'' 
 
 " Tombstone ! This is getting solemn. What tomb- 
 stone.?" 
 
 " Old Cadwallader's. Mr. Mix sent me round to ask 
 whether he should cut the name ' Henry Cadwallader ' in 
 a straight line or a curve, and whether she wants to put 
 on the sfone 3- broken rosebud or a torch upside down. 
 You tell the widow to take my advice, and go in on the 
 rosebud and the straight line. It's cheaper, and 'twon't 
 make any difference to the deceased." 
 
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 307 
 
 " I "11 mention it to her. When is the tombstone to be 
 done?" 
 
 " Wednesday, right after the funeral. Weighs about 
 a ton. Mix says Mrs. Cadwallader probably wanted it 
 heavy, so's to be sure it would hold Henry down. He 
 will have his fun." 
 
 During the conversation, and while Mr. Toombs was 
 removing his funeral appliances from the waggon, a third 
 man arrived. He asked for Mrs. Cadwallader. 
 
 " What do you want 1 " asked Mr. C. 
 
 " How's the widow takin' it ? Hard?" he asked. 
 
 " Not so very." 
 
 " Well, you tell her, for me, not to go on about it. 
 Plenty of fish in the sea 's good as any ever caught. Tell 
 her the company's all right. It'll pay her in full, and 
 then she can get on her feet again." 
 
 " What company do you mean .'' " 
 
 " Why, the Hopelessly Mutual. I'm Benjamin P. 
 Gunn, the insurance agent. Took his risk in January. 
 Thought maybe the widow might be suffering from grief, 
 and I'd call to cheer her up. I'm coming to the funeral and 
 I'll see that Henry's stowedaway as snug as a bug in a rug.'' 
 
 Cadwallader came down and explained the matter, 
 and got things straightened out a little. On the day of 
 the dead Henry's funeral he thought he would go to it, in 
 order to ascertain how it felt to attend the obsequies of 
 Henry Cadwallader. It turned out that some of the live 
 Henry's friends, who didn't know where he lived, were at 
 the house of th; dead man, thinking that it was the store- 
 keeper's funeral. When the latter came in, Mr. Jones 
 met him, and said to him : 
 
3o8 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 
 
 " Heaven and earth, Cadwallader ! how d' you get out 
 of that coffin?" 
 
 " I never was in it." 
 
 " What ! I've been crying like a baby about you, in 
 the parlour there. Not dead! Now, see here, Cad- 
 wallader ; this is not the square thing ! Blame me if I 
 haven't wasted an enormous amount of sacred emotion 
 over you, and now you go back on me. Is that treating 
 a man right?" 
 
 '' I dunno. Seems to me so." 
 
 " Well, hang me if it seems so to me. If you advertise 
 that you are 
 going- to be 
 buried, why in 
 the name of 
 decency don't 
 you stand by 
 your contract 
 like a man?" 
 
 " Let me ex- 
 plain '' 
 
 "No, sir ; no 
 apologies. This 
 finishes you. as 
 far as I am con- 
 cerned. When I die, I die. I don't invite my friends 
 to see me interred, get them to cry, and then come 
 shuffling around with some shabby excuse about not being 
 dead ! I'd rather pick a man's pocket at once than 
 trample on his feelings that way ! " 
 
 And as Mr. Jones shouldered his umbrella and marched 
 
MS. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 309 
 
 oflf home, Cadwallader went also, a little gloomy because 
 he felt that if he had been a thoroughly conscientious 
 man, who understood his duty to society, he would be a 
 corpse. He talked of applying to the legislature at the 
 next session for permission to change his name. 
 
 Mr. Toombs is a single man ; but he came very near 
 once to marriage — or, at least, he thought so. It appears 
 that Mr. Bungay, the real estate agent, some years ago 
 suspected that Mrs. Bungay didn't care as much for him 
 as she ought to. So one day he went up to the city, after 
 leaving word that he would be gone two or three days. 
 While there, he arranged with a friend to send a telegram 
 to his wife at a certain hour announcing that he had been 
 run over on the railroad and killed. Then Bungay came 
 home, and slipping into the house unperceived, he 
 secreted himself in the closet in the sitting-room to await 
 the arrival of the telegram, and to see how Mrs. Bungay 
 took it. After a while it came, and he saw the servant-girl 
 give it to his wife. She opened it, and as she read it, she 
 gave one little start. Then Bungay saw a smile gradually 
 overspread her features. She rang for the girl, and when 
 the servant came, Mrs. Bungay said to her : 
 
 " Mary, Mr. Bungay's been killed. I've just got the 
 news. I reckon I'll have to put on black for him, though 
 I hate to give up my new bonnet for mourning. You just 
 go round to the milliner's and ask her to fetch me up 
 some of the latest styles of widow's bonnets, and tie a 
 bunch of crape on the door, and then bring the undertaker 
 here." 
 
 While Mrs. Bungay was waiting she smiled continually, 
 and once or twice she danced around the room, and stood 
 
310 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 
 
 in front of the looking-glass, and Bungay heard her 
 murmur to herself : 
 
 " I ain't such a bad-looking woman, either. I wonder 
 what Lemuel will think of me ? " 
 
 " Lemuel ! " thought Bungay, as his widow took her 
 seat and sang softly, as if she felt particularly happy. 
 " Who's Lemuel t She certainly can't mean that infamous 
 old undertaker, Toombs ! His name's Lemuel, and he's 
 single ; but it's preposterous to suppose that she cares 
 for him, or is going to prowl after a husband so quick as 
 this." 
 
 While he brooded in horror over the thought, Mr. 
 Toombs arrived. The widow said : 
 
 " Mr. Toombs, Bungay, is dead ; run over by a loco- 
 motive." 
 
 " Very sorry to hear it, madam ; I sympathize with 
 you in your affliction." 
 
 "Thank you; it is pretty sad. But I don't worry 
 much. Bungay was d poor sort of a man to get along with, 
 and now that he's gone I am going to stand it without 
 crying my eyes out. We'll have to bury him, I s'pose, 
 though.?" 
 
 " That is the usual thing to do in such cases." 
 
 " Well, I want you to 'tend to it for me. I reckon the 
 coroner '11 have to sit on him first. But when they get 
 through, if you'll just collect the pieces and pack him into 
 a coffin, I'll be obliged." 
 
 "Certainly, Mrs. Bungay. When do you want the 
 funeral to occur ? " 
 
 " Oh, 'most any day. Perhaps the sooner the better, 
 so's we can have it over. I don't want to spend much 
 
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 311 
 
 money on it, Mr. Toombs. Rig him up some kind of a 
 cheap coflfin, and bury him with as little fuss as possible, 
 ni come along with a couple of friends; and we'll walk. 
 No carriages. Times are too hard." 
 
 " I will attend to it." 
 
 " And, Mr. Toombs, there is another matter. Mr. 
 Bungay's life was insured for about twenty thousand 
 dollars, and I want to get it as soon as possible, and when 
 I get it I shall think of marrying again.'' 
 
 '' Indeed, madam ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and can you think of anybody who'll suit me." 
 
 " I dunno. I might. Twenty thousand you say he. 
 left?" 
 
 " Twenty thousand ; yes. Now, Mr. Toombs, you'll 
 think me bold, but I only tell the honest truth when I say 
 that I prefer a man who is about middle-age, and in some 
 business connected with cemeteries." 
 
 " How would an undertaker suit you ? " 
 
 " I think very well, if I could find one. I often told 
 Bungay that I wished he was an undertaker." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Bungay, it's a little sudden ; I haven't 
 thought much about it ; and Bungay's hardly got fairly 
 settled in the world of the hereafter ; but business is busi- 
 ness, and if you must have an undertaker to love you and 
 look after that life insurance money, it appears to me that 
 I am just about that kind of a man. Will you take me ? " 
 
 " Oh, Lemuel ! fold me to your bosom ! " 
 
 Lemuel was just about to fold her, when Bungay, white 
 with rage, burst from the closet, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Unhand her, villain ! Touch that woman, and you 
 die ! Leave this house at once, or I'll brain you with the 
 
312 MH. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 
 
 poker ! And as for you, Mrs. Bungay, you can pack up 
 your duds and quit. I've done with you. I know now 
 that you are a cold-hearted, faithless, abominable wretch I 
 Go, and go at once ! I did this to try you, and my eyes 
 are opened." 
 
 " I know you did, and I concluded to pay you in your 
 own coin." 
 
 " That's absurd ; it won't hold water." 
 
 "It's true, anyhow. You told Mr. Magill you were 
 going to do it, and he told me " 
 
 " He did, hey ? I'll knock the head off of him." 
 
 " When you are really dead I will be a good deal more 
 sorry provided you don't make such a fool of yourself 
 while you're alive." 
 
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 313 
 
 " You will ? You will really be sorry ! " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 "And you won't marry Toombs ? Where is that man 
 Toombs? By George, I'll go for him now! He was 
 mighty hungry for that life insurance money I I'll step 
 around and kick him at once while I'm mad. We'll talk 
 this matter over when I come back." 
 
 Then Bungay left to call upon Toombs, and when he 
 returned he dropped the subject. He has drawn up his 
 will so that his wife is cut off with a shilling if she employs 
 Toombs as the undertaker, and Toombs is still a lonely 
 bachelor. 
 
Im "W^tlmtvt ^hmninvt. 
 
 >H. RICHARD SMITH and Mr. Arthur 
 Gibbs were guests at a large party given 
 at the house of Judge Campbell in the town 
 of Wington. When the evening was half 
 gone, they were standing at the upper end 
 of the drawing-room, talking and watching the 
 moving throng beyond them, when Smith sud- 
 denly exclaimed : 
 
 " Who is that insignificant-looking little woman over 
 there ? She has a throng of men about her ; but they 
 certainly can't be attracted by her beauty. She is the 
 plainest woman in the room ! " 
 
 " Don't you know her ? " said Gibbs. " Why, she is 
 the famous Wington heroine ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! A heroine, eh? Well, I confess my ignor- 
 ance. Really, I was not aware that this prosy place 
 boasted a heroine." 
 
 " Well, then, you have to hear a story of endurance 
 
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 315 
 
 and foititude which, when you look upon that slight figure, 
 seems really incredible." 
 
 " I am ready to have the tale unfolded, my lad, when- 
 ever you are disposed to oblige me.'' 
 
 So the two young men sauntered out to the 
 library, and, throwing themselves into easy-chairs, Gibbs 
 began : 
 
 " You must know, in the first place, that my heroine 
 has held that position just about six years. She came 
 here half-a-dozen years ago from New England in 
 response to a call from the gentlemen who manage the 
 common schools of this county. She was a teacher by 
 profession, and her name was Susan Wilmer." 
 
 " 'Susan' is very mild for a genuine heroine !" 
 
 " She was placed in charge of a certain little red 
 school-house, away out yonder among the hills, near to 
 that small collection of buildings called Maysville." 
 
 " I've been there," said Smith. " Two houses — a store 
 and a blacksmith's shop.'' 
 
 " Well, she took the school, and she laboured there 
 for many months trying to teach the young ideas how to 
 shoot, from very poor soil, I imagine, judging from the 
 specimens 1 have seen of her pupils. But nobody in town 
 cared whether she was successful or not. She did not 
 live in the village, because of the distance, but had taken 
 board at the only respectable farm-house in the neigh- 
 bourhood, about a mile and-a-half over the mountain. 
 So her arrival did not excite any very great remark, in 
 the usually excitable village of Wington, excepting, per- 
 haps, when she came into church the first Sunday after 
 her arrival, when, of course, all the girls in the building 
 
3 1 6 MISS . yiLMER 'S AD VENTURE. 
 
 looked her over as she walked up the aisle, and went 
 through the customary mental arithmetic to determine 
 the cost of her clothing.'' 
 
 " That had to be done, of course," remarked Smith. 
 
 " But she was plainly dressed, and the young ladies 
 not having had their envy excited, as usual, indulged 
 their contempt for the new comer. Nobody welcomed 
 her, spoke to her, or showed by any sign that they recog- 
 nized her presence ; and I may say, that during the whole 
 of the first six months of her stay here, she was never 
 invited to a house in the town, or asked to indulge in any 
 of the amusements for which Wington is famous, all the 
 year round. She never made a friend or even an 
 acquaintance, among the people. It was a dull and 
 dreary life enough, I think, and I doubt not some of the 
 kinder-hearted among the elder ladies of the town would 
 gladly have shown her some attention ; but although 
 polite when addressed, she was reserved and diffident in 
 her manner, and not easily approached." 
 
 "But you don't seem to be getting on toward the 
 heroics," said Smith. 
 
 "The farmer with whom she boarded," continued 
 Gibbs, " had a son, who " 
 
 " O, I see ! " exclaimed Smith. " The farmer's son is 
 sick ; she nurses him ; a tender passion developes ; he 
 marries her out of gratitude ; the regular thing, you 
 'now!" 
 
 " Not by any means. This young man was employed 
 as an amanuensis by a gentleman named Wylie, who 
 lived on the adjoining estate and was very wealthy. 
 Wylie was a man of thirty-five years, a widower, with one 
 
MISS WILMER 'S AD VENTURE. 3 1 7 
 
 little girl of six or seven summers. He was a first-rate 
 fellow, liked and respected by everybody throughout this 
 whole region. Wylie wanted to have his little girl 
 instructed in the rudiments of education ; and, living 
 alone, he could not very well have a governess in the 
 house. So, upon the recommendation of his secretary, 
 he concluded to have the child attend the red school- 
 house, where Miss Wilmer taught. It was his custom to 
 send the child in his carriage, and at the time of dis- 
 missing the scholars to have his man in waiting to convey 
 Miss Wilmer and her pupil to their respective homes. 
 Well, this arrangement was satisfactory to all parties, and 
 during the summer months everything went on smoothly, 
 and without any cause for complaint on either side. The 
 child learned rapidly, and conducted herself with about 
 the average propriety. On the ist or 2nd day of 
 November of that year, the school was dismissed at 
 about four o'clock in the afternoon, but Wylie's man 
 not having arrived with the carriage, Miss Wilmer 
 sat with her solitary scholar in the school-room, to wait 
 for him. 
 
 " An hour passed, and it began to grow dark, and yet 
 the carriage did not come. The man had gone to town, 
 and was detained by a broken axle. Miss Wilmer con- 
 cluded not to wait any longer, but to attempt to walk 
 home, thinking she could reach the farm-house before it 
 was dark, and then have the child sent over to her father's 
 place by one of the men of the family. 
 
 "You know how suddenly night comes on among 
 these mountains ? When the sun has set, the darkness 
 hurries in upon us with a speed of which people who live 
 
31 8 MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 in a level country have scarcely any conception. Well, 
 Miss Wilmer and the child, had scarcely gone a third of 
 the distance, before it was as black as pitch, and the 
 heavens were so obscured by huge banks of clouds, that 
 not even the faint twinkle of a star served to light up 
 their path, darkened as it was, too, by the network of 
 overhanging branches of trees, which moaned, and 
 rustled, and creaked in the wind. But the road was 
 an easy one, and Miss Wilmer was so thoroughly familiar 
 with it, that she strode along with confidence, rather 
 regretting that she had undertaken the task, but deter- 
 mined to persevere, despite the fearful cries of the child, 
 whom she strove to reassure with words of comfort and 
 encouragement. 
 
 " The road wound directly around the mountain, at a 
 considerable inclination. On one side rose the rocks 
 covered with stones, grey moss, and ferns, intermingled 
 with tangled bushes and vines, and strewn with decaying 
 leaves, while a few oaks and evergreens grew from the 
 side, and leaned over the road as if they were trying to 
 peer into the valley below them. On the other side the 
 mountain descended at aconsiderable declivity, and was 
 covered with trees, huge boulders, and a heavy under- 
 growth, excepting where, here and there, the bald rock 
 reached down perpendicularly into some chasm, formed 
 centuries ago, when the tired earth, weary with the throes 
 of her pristine convulsions, yawned with her granite lips, 
 and left them unclosed for ever." 
 
 " ' Yawned with her granite lips,' is good," observed 
 Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Along this path, then. Miss Wilmer went, trying to 
 
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 319 
 
 keep close in to the mountain's side, and to avoid all 
 possibility of making a misstep over the opposite edge of 
 the road. Once she came to a tree which was prostrated 
 upon the hiU above her, and which hung with its branches 
 over the way. She ran against these in the darkness, 
 and, drawing back, attempted to go around the obstacle. 
 She had hold of the child's hand, and her grasp 
 instinctively tightened as she felt the little one slip away 
 from her, and bring her whole weight suddenly to bear on 
 that one arm. The child gave a piercing scream as she 
 fell, and by the flutter of her white clothing below in the 
 darkness, Miss Wilmeir saw that she was on the edge of 
 one of the most frightful precipices upon the mountain. 
 
 " To grasp the child's arm with her other hand was the 
 first movement, and with all her strength she endeavoured to 
 lift her up and place her on the road. But the woman's 
 fright had partially unnerved her, and robbed her of much 
 of her little strength, and to her dismay, she found herself 
 wholly unable to accomplish her purpose. She perceived 
 with the intuition of desperation, that her only hope 
 of supporting the child, existed in her lying flat upon the 
 ground. This she did, and holding on by one of the 
 arms, she gradually worked her other hand up to the 
 body, and caught hold of the dress. But would this bear 
 the weight 1 it certainly did not lessen the danger that 
 her strained fingers would gradually lose their power, and 
 relax, so that their precious burden would be dashed to 
 pieces in those black and shuddering depths below. 
 Those were the days, you remember, when- women and 
 girls wore hoop-skirts. With a desperate effort Miss 
 Wilmer clutched the steel springs of the child's skirt, and 
 
320 MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 taking the four lower springs in her hand, she twisted her 
 arm into them so that they formed a loop around her 
 wrist, and then, feeling that her hold was secure, she 
 dropped the arm of the insensible child, and, tearing off 
 her hood, with her spare hand she bound the strings as 
 well as she could round the wrists of both hands, and 
 between the steel springs of the skirt, so that it could not 
 possibly slip off, the larger part of the weight bearing upon 
 the right arm. 
 
 " The pain was terrible beyond expression. The sharp 
 steel edges of the springs, dragged down by the weight of 
 their burden, cut into her flesh like knife-blades. The 
 arm was almost torn from its socket, and the tense 
 muscles seemed to be slowly tearing to pieces with the 
 fierce strain upon them. But the brave girl did not flinch. 
 She lay there with both arms hanging over the edge of 
 the rock, in patient agony waiting for that help which she 
 knew might not come for hours. Indeed, she felt that 
 anyone might drive over her prostrate body in the dark- 
 ness, without her being able to scream or to utter a cry 
 for help. 
 
 " All kinds of thoughts whirled through her brain — 
 fearful, ludicrous, and sorrowful. She thought of her 
 school, and of the children gathering there to-morrow, and 
 missing her, and wondering why she did not come ; and 
 she herself wondered if they would be sorry to learn that 
 she was dead ; and if they would forget her, when another 
 teacher came. And then came a flood of recollections of 
 the scenes which had occurred there ; of the little 
 peculiarities of each of the scholars, their queer sayings, 
 and laughable answers to her questions, and of the times 
 
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 321 
 
 when she had punished them. What would they do with 
 her body when she was found ? Suppose she should be 
 buried while not yet dead ! Horrible thought ! Would 
 any of the town people go to the funeral ? Would any- 
 body be sorry she was gone, and shed tears over her ? 
 Bitterly and sadly, she could not think of one who 
 would. 
 
 " You know, the old story of the manner in which a 
 drowning man, in the few seconds of time which elapse 
 between the consciousness of the approach of death and 
 insensibility, reviews his whole life in the intense and 
 awful energy of his mind, compelled by despair. I 
 believe this to be the case in every instance where a 
 person is placed unexpectedly in imminent peril of his 
 life. The mind never forgets anything. The individual 
 may lose all command over the memory, and be incapable 
 by any effort, of summoning up recollection of circum- 
 stances or facts, but they are there, and may be called up 
 at any time accidentally. And so, before Miss Wilmer's 
 mental vision, in that supreme hour, passed in review the 
 events of her life with almost microscopic exactness. 
 Her childhood, and its happiness, her early womanhood, 
 and its trials, and the disappointments, the joys, the hopes 
 of her later years — all came up before her, and with them 
 was a certain assurance that this was to be the end of 
 all ; that she was to die in this place. These, and a 
 million other thoughts, flashed across the seemingly 
 infinite space of her mind, as she lay there, and then her 
 fancies grew wilder and became confused, and brilliant 
 colours danced before her and she fell into a swoon. 
 
 " As the evening wore on, and Miss Wilmer failed to 
 21 
 
322 MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. _ 
 
 return, the farmer with whom she lived, became some- 
 what uneasy, and walked over to Wylie's place to ascer- 
 tain if she had gone there with her charge. Wylie was 
 surprised and alarmed when the farmer announced his 
 errand, but, as the carriage had not returned, he concluded 
 to wait for a while, thinking perhaps they had gone to 
 town in the vehicle and were detained. After walking 
 about uneasily for half an hour, he determined to go down 
 the road to the schoolhouse to satisfy himself that no evil 
 had befallen them. Each taking a lantern, he, the farmer 
 and his son, proceeded out toward the mountain. Each 
 of them had an indefinable fear that some accident had 
 happened, and as they walked silently along the winding 
 road they scrutinized every part of it closely with the 
 flickering light of their lanterns. 
 
 " In a short time, Wylie's secretary caught a glimpse of 
 something white lying in the road ; hurrying toward it, 
 he perceived it to be a woman's dress, and a moment 
 more disclosed Miss Wilmer lying at full length upon the 
 edge of the declivity. The first thought that flashed 
 through the minds of all was, that she had been mur- 
 dered ; but Wylie almost instantly discovered his child, 
 and, with a cry of horror, sprang forward to rescue her 
 from her peril. His blood ran cold within his veins, as, 
 eagerly seizing her, he looked down into the unfathomable 
 darkness of that abyss, rendered more appalling by the 
 obscurity in which its terrors were involved. To tear 
 away the iron from the brave arms which it had bruised 
 and torn, was the work of an instant, and Wylie, forgett- 
 ing the insensibility of the noble woman at bis feet, 
 lifted his child in his arms, and caressed it with inex- 
 
MJSS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 323 
 
 pressible tenderness, while the farmer and his son 
 leaned over Miss Wilmer's prostrate form, and, after 
 binding up the wounds upon the bleeding arm, endea- 
 voured to restore her to consciousness. 
 
 " It now became apparent that a vehicle must be pro- 
 cured to convey the sufferers to their homes, and Wylie's 
 secretary went back to obtain one. In the meantime, 
 Wylie succeeded in restoring the sensibility of his child, 
 and she began to cry with fright and bewilderment, but, 
 overcome by fatigue, she soon fell asleep upon her 
 father's shoulder, and he then began to realize the 
 heroism of the brave woman who lay before him. He 
 had not thought that delicate, shy little creature capable 
 of such presence of mind and such fortitude, and he 
 began to wonder why he had never before perceived in 
 her the elements of greatness. He had scarcely done 
 more than notice her heretofore, but now he saw that 
 he had been, as other men often are, worshipping 
 heroism afar off, while here it was, in its purest and best 
 form, at his very door. 
 
 " When the carriage came. Miss Wilmer was lifted 
 tenderly and placed in it, and the whole party returned to 
 their homes. All that night Miss Wilmer remained insen- 
 sible, and when at last she woke to partial consciousness, 
 she became wildly delirious, and raved about the child, 
 the precipice, and the frightful death which ever seemed 
 impending before her. For three days the fever raged 
 within her, with not ^ gleam of returning reason, and it 
 seemed doubtful, indeed, if the dimmed spark of life would 
 not go out entirely. At length, however, the crisis passed, 
 and she came out of the delirium, prostrated in body aiyl 
 
324 MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 mind, scarcely comprehending her situation, or remem- 
 bering the accident in which she had borne so valiant a 
 part. 
 
 "You may be sure Wylie did not forget her, and 
 it was not only a sentiment of sincere gratitude that drew 
 him to the house, two and three times every day. He had 
 been thinking about her heroic deed, and he began to 
 comprehend that a woman can possess higher, and better 
 and more enduring qualities than personal beauty, de- 
 sirable as that may be. And so he called at the farmer's 
 frequently, and the room of the sufferer was filled with 
 the fragrance of the flowers that he brought, and her table 
 was covered with innumerable dainties and delicacies pur- 
 chased by him. 
 
 " Miss Wilmer knew from whom all these came, but she 
 was too feeble to do more than simply feel grateful to the 
 giver. But after a while, when she became strong enough 
 to be carried downstairs, with that wrenched and hurt 
 arm bound to her side, Wylie found it convenient to drop 
 in very often and sit by her, and to converse m his 
 pleasant, affable way. She was shy of him at first, 
 overawed by a sense of his importance and social 
 superiority. But nothing could long withstand his 
 kind sociability, and Miss Wilmer soon found herself 
 looking forward to his visits with positive pleasure, and 
 before she entirely recovered she was, I think, in love 
 with him. 
 
 " But you know the rest. You know how it always 
 turns out, under such circumstances. Very soon it was 
 announced that Miss Wilmer was engaged to be married 
 to Mr. Wylie. The town people had all heard of her 
 
MISS WILMES'S ADVENTURE. 325 
 
 adventure, and of her brave conduct, and she was praised 
 warmly for what she had done. Rut the shrewdest village 
 gossip was hardly prepared for this result. Nobody had 
 dreamed that Wylie would marry the poor little school 
 teacher, even if she had saved his daughter's life. There 
 were plenty of girls who had been making, a dead set at 
 the rich widower for years, and these, with their managing 
 mammas, gave vent to their bitter disappointment in the 
 customary way, by pretending to sneer at his bad taste, 
 and by saying all the hard things they dared of Miss 
 Wilmer. 
 
 " But this was behind her back. Tfoat fine old 
 patriarch Job, when he recovered his lost property, you 
 remember, was loaded down with presents by friends who 
 had forgotten him in his adversity, and so' now everybody 
 was obsequious to Miss Wilmer, and those who had ne- 
 glected her and cut her when she had no expectations, 
 suddenly discovered that she was a remarkable young 
 woman, and would prove a valuable acquisition to the 
 select circle. Miss Wilmer understood the precise value 
 of this adulation, and declining all invitations from the 
 ' best ' as well as the second best people, btisied herself 
 preparing for the wedding. 
 
 "On the appointed day the ceremony was performed in 
 the church, in the presence of an admiring, jealous, ex- 
 cited crowd of ladies from the whole country round. That 
 evening Wylie gave a tremendoms reception at his house, 
 at which everybody was present, and he clearly demon- 
 strated that he was the happiest man in the country. 
 This is the anniversary of that wedding, and the enter- 
 tainment is given in their honour. Mrs. Wylie bears 
 
326 
 
 MISS WILMER^S ADVENTURE. 
 
 upon ha: arm the indelible marks of the sufifering she 
 endured upon the night of that terrible adventure, and 
 if you will come downstairs, I will introduce you to her, 
 and you will observe that she will offer you her left hand ; 
 and that's the whole story of the adventore of Miss 
 Wilmer, the WingtoiB heroine." 
 
Max Adeler 
 
 ^m: A short while ago you wrote of the 
 late Philadelphia lawyer-author, Charles 
 Heber Clark (Max Adeler). I cannot now 
 locate the artide, but recall that there 
 were several omissions in the bibliogra- 
 phy. As I have what is believed to be a 
 complete set of the Adeler first editions, a 
 full list of which I have never seen in 
 print, I submit it to you: 
 "Out of the Hurly Burly," Philadelphia, 
 
 1874 
 "Elbow Room," Philadelphia, 1876 
 "Random Shots," Philadelphia, 1879 
 "The Fortunate Island," Boston, 1882 
 "Captain Bluitt," Philadelphia, 1901 
 "In Happy Hollow," Philadelphia, 1903 
 "The Quakeress," Philadelphia, 1905 
 "The Great Natural Healer," Philadelphia, 
 
 1910 
 "By the Bend of the River," Philadelphia, 
 
 1914 
 
 A title not included in the above list Is 
 "I'm Off," a raUway-travel booklet (c. 
 1882) of probably 100 pages, published 
 anonymously, but believed to be from the 
 "Adeler" pen. 
 
 Alfred P, Lee!. 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa- 
 
. A' Hopeless Search for Max Adeler 
 
 Mr. Charles Heber Clark, one of America's foremost writers 
 on industrial affairs, is very much ashamed of Max Adeler. 
 Twenty years ago Max Adeler was in the heyday of his 
 popularity as a humorist, and there are now many middle- 
 aged men who pull down from dusty shelves their dog-eared 
 copies of Random Shots and Out of the Hurly-Burly, and, 
 as they chuckle over the old familiar sketches, wonder what 
 has become of Max. " He must be dead," they sigh ; " what 
 a pity! " 
 
 But he isn't. When Mr. Charles Heber Clark assumed 
 the pseudonym of " Max Adeler" it was at a time when a 
 man who wrote was not subjected to the searchlight of pub- 
 lic curiosity. He wrote largely for his own amusement, and 
 was modest in his claim to recognition. But more serious 
 work presented itself, and he threw aside the cap and bells. 
 He became engrossed in trade development as applied to the 
 industrial growth of the country. In time he became a 
 recognized authority, and as his fame grew in this direction 
 he desired more and more to shake from the coat-tails of his 
 new dignity the persistent tugs given to them by Max Adeler. 
 Doctor Jekyll-Clark loathed Mr. Hyde-Adeler. 
 
 Gradually the fame of Charles Heber Clark grew, and 
 this pleased Mr. Clark very much indeed. One could not 
 offend him more' than to refer to the humorous writings of 
 the discredited Adeler. He loathed them with a hatred that 
 was terrible to see. 
 
 -One day there wandered into his office two disreputable- 
 looking representatives of the theatrical profession. They 
 said they were a sketch team in search of a new act, with a 
 neat song and dance and lots of sidewalk conversation. In 
 idiomatic language almost unintelligible to Mr. Clark's 
 secretary, they explained that they had come across a book 
 called Random Shots, by Max Adeler, and they had been told 
 Mr.. Clark had written it. 
 
 '"^He's the guy we're lookin' fer," said the spokesman of 
 the team. " He can write us the sort o' stuff that'll kill 'em 
 dead. If it's the right sort, we'll pay him good." 
 
 It took the secretary fifteen minutes to convince the callers 
 that they were in error, and that it was a case of mistaken 
 identity. Knowing Mr. Clark's antipathy toward the luck- 
 less Adeler, the young man refrained from mentioning the 
 visit. Mr. Clark doesn't know about it to this day.