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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
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 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022456135 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ROBERT J. GRESHAM 
 
 New York and Washington 
 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1908 
 
Copyright, 1908, by 
 Robert J. Gresham 
 
PREFACE 
 
 To all those who like to lift the trap door 
 of their perplexing business life and let the 
 cares and shadows fly away to unknown 
 regions, this book of tales is especially di- 
 rected; but all the rest of mankind is per- 
 fectly welcome to peruse its pages. 
 
 If there is one chapter which will cause a 
 worried business man or woman, boy or girl, 
 to throw aside the cares of life for one 
 moment and let the sunshine into their souls 
 my labors will not have been in vain. And 
 then if enough folks will read it to pay for its 
 printing, and I can have a few dollars to jingle 
 in my pockets and pay the interest on my 
 debts, I will be boisterously happy. 
 
 It has been a hard, worrisome job. Many 
 have been the times when I was almost ready 
 to pitch the whole thing overboard, shoulder 
 a hoe, and go out and make an honest living; 
 but when I thought of old Sol's molten rays 
 coming down on my back I soon got out of 
 the notion. But ever and anon my informa- 
 tion bureau ran low, and I would pull and tug 
 and sweat to roust up my sluggish imagina- 
 tion, then just as I was getting it in working 
 order the sun would go down or some in- 
 
6 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 famous creditor "santer" in to ascertain how 
 my financial mill was working — but he gener- 
 ally failed to find out. I can pay a debt with 
 an excuse in a more satisfactory manner than 
 with the cash — more satisfactory to me I 
 mean. 
 
 Should this little volume meet with the ap- 
 probation of those who have time to read it I 
 shall be greatly pleased. 
 
 Wishing each and every reader all the good 
 things which one should have in this life and 
 an abundant entrance into the new life be- 
 yond the river, I am, with best wishes, sin- 
 cerely and cordially yours, 
 
 The Author. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 I never knew why I was born; really, I 
 had not energy enough to try to solve that 
 mysterious problem. I have always been 
 moderately well satisfied with the fact that I 
 was born, and to let the whys go to blazes, or 
 anywhere else they desired to go. There is 
 no use to worry one's brain with things which 
 one can't solve, so I just let the thing take 
 care of itself. But it is a fact all right that I 
 was born ; at least, everybody who knows me 
 says so. But it was put off until the very last 
 moment, for, according to tradition, I got 
 here at 11.57 P. M., December 31, Anno 
 Mundi, some time since the flood. If it had 
 been four minutes later it might never have 
 happened at all, and in that event the world 
 would perhaps not be revolving as it is to-day. 
 But I am moderately well satisfied that the 
 event did happen, as well for my good as for 
 others. 
 
 I don't know why I was always different 
 from other folks either, but it is true just 
 the same, and yet I never quite understood 
 wherein lay the difference; and again, I did 
 not worry myself very much to find that out, 
 for I could not conceive what good it would 
 
IO SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 do me should I be so unfortunate, so I let 
 that alone. I am pretty easily satisfied any- 
 way, so when I was a boy I was perfectly con- 
 tented if my wearing apparel consisted of as 
 much as a long shirt and an old discarded 
 last year's straw hat, and then if I could get 
 a raw turnip or potato and now and then a 
 chunk of corn bread I was satisfied beyond 
 measure. 
 
 Sometimes I had to work. I never liked 
 that, so nothing ever pleased me so much as 
 to be sent off somewhere to hoe cotton by 
 myself. On such occasions I was sure not to 
 get "overhet." I did love to see the beautiful 
 grass grow, and it always seemed to be a sin 
 and a shame to dig it up, especially when it 
 took so much exertion to do it. Besides, I al- 
 ways knew frost would come along toward 
 Christmas and kill it out anyway, and I saw 
 no use in doing what Nature would do herself 
 and without an effort, so I cut as little of it 
 as possible. I just cut enough to save the cut- 
 ting of a sprout across my back. Sometimes 
 I was troubled with that sort of sport and it 
 never sat well on my constitution. 
 
 One thing I never was bothered with 
 much, and that was growing. I did very 
 little of that, consequently it was very little 
 trouble for the other boys to run over me. 
 Then I had energy enough to get out of the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 1 
 
 way with as few bruises as possible. I never 
 liked bruises, they were so inconvenient, un- 
 less the bruise was of sufficient magnitude to 
 disable me and keep me from work. I was 
 always ready to take one of that sort. One 
 day one of my brothers and I were at work 
 cutting briers, and I was so careless as to get 
 in his way, and he cut my left foot about half 
 off with a brier-hook. The thing struck me 
 in the instep and went half-way round. I was 
 never so proud of anything in my life, for I 
 knew I would get at least six weeks' rest out 
 of it. My recollection now is that I got 
 about nine. I was sorry to see the thing go, 
 but I have learned long since that we must 
 part with, all good things sooner or later. 
 
 Because I was so little and so easily run 
 over and cuffed about, I stayed by myself a 
 great deal, and I got so used to it that I had 
 rather be alone than to be with any set of 
 angels on earth, and perhaps the angels en- 
 joyed my absence also. I used to sit on the 
 bank of a babblingbrook and watch the water 
 travel toward old Ocean. I saw the little 
 fishes darting up and down in the brook. I 
 saw the image of the trees on its bank reflected 
 in the water, and the clouds flying overhead. 
 I would sit there and dream for hours at a 
 time and never move, and many times would 
 fall asleep and sleep the sleep of the just for 
 
12 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 hours, and when I waked would find forty 
 million mosquito knots on me. If that seems 
 too many the reader has my consent to cut it 
 half in two, as I haven't the time to spare. 
 
 I remember once waking from a nap on the 
 bank of a brook and finding a snake about 
 four feet long at my feet. He had his head 
 in the air and his forked tongue was darting 
 in and out of his mouth like lightning. I went 
 into the air as though a ton of powder had 
 been exploded under me, and after sailing 
 around up there for a few minutes I descended 
 and landed in the brook. I wasn't afraid of 
 the snake, of course, I only wanted to show 
 him how high I could jump. 
 
 My association with the grass, the brooks, 
 the fields, the flowers, the woods and all 
 nature caused me to> be very bashful when I 
 was with folks, and I have never gotten over 
 it. It sticks to me as close as my skin, and it 
 has caused me a million bushels of torment, if 
 it could be so measured. 
 
 I remember once when I was about thir- 
 teen years old, as green as a sack of gourds, 
 two young ladies came to visit us. It was in 
 the good old summertime and my wearing 
 apparel consisted of a mother-hubbard, 
 commonly called in those days a shirt. They 
 were too close to the house for me to run out 
 and leave, so I had nothing to do but run up- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 3 
 
 stairs. I didn't think they would stay all day, 
 but they did. There was no way on earth 
 for me to get away, except to march boldly 
 down and out by the ladies. My nerves were 
 too weak for such a performance as that, and 
 I didn't have any trousers up-stairs. 
 
 I couldn't think of staying up there all day, 
 for it was Sunday. Had it been any other 
 day I could have stayed with all manner of 
 comfort, for that was a much better place 
 than down in the field among the grass and 
 snakes and hot sun. The house was built 
 double, with a hall between. Overhead, the 
 hall was not ceiled, only some loose planks 
 laid across the joists, with cracks four inches 
 wide between them. By going over these 
 loose planks into the next room there was an 
 opening by which I could get away without 
 being seen, provided, of course, I slipped over 
 those loose planks without making any noise; 
 so with cat-like tread, being barefooted, I be- 
 gan to slip along without making a bit of 
 noise, except the beating of my heart. One 
 step more, though, and I would be safe — but 
 what a fatal step. I had gotten along so far 
 without being seen and I grew too bold, but I 
 paid for it. I planted my foot on the end of 
 a plank which did not touch the last joist, and 
 as there was nothing to support it, the other 
 end flew up and I flew right down among the 
 
14 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ladies. The only thing which kept me from 
 the humiliation of being seen was the fact 
 that I scared them nearly to death, and they 
 rushed into the room and closed the door. In 
 my hurry to get down I hung my shirt on a 
 nail and the nail kept all of it except the ta — , 
 no, collar, — and it might as well have kept 
 that for the use I had for it. Like Nebuchad- 
 nezzar of old, I pulled for the woods. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 About this time I had an old dog which 
 was my constant companion. We would get 
 out on Sunday, or any other day, and chase 
 rabbits all day, and never catch a hair, but all 
 the time I was dreaming that one day I would 
 have a pack of forty of the finest fox-hounds 
 in the whole country, and a big black Ken- 
 tucky horse, and I could see myself with a 
 brass horn around my shoulder chasing the 
 wary fox. I would dream and dream until I 
 could almost hear the music of the yelping 
 dogs in the distance, and I would mistake the 
 dream thereof for echoes from paradise. 
 
 I remember these days as the sweetest 
 which I have ever spent in this low ground 
 of sin and sorrow. They were free from all 
 care and trouble, and a peace filled my soul 
 which was most divine. But occasionally 
 there was a cloud on the horizon, but it soon 
 passed away and the sun was shining as be- 
 fore. 
 
 One hot day, the latter part of July, I was 
 sent to hoe cotton. It so happened that no 
 one was with me but my dog. 'Way long 
 toward the middle of the afternoon the old 
 dog woke up and poked off into the bottom 
 
1 6 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and struck a rabbit's trail. At first it was 
 cold — the trail, not the weather. He would 
 "boom," "boom," "boom" every two or three 
 minutes. I would dig up three bunches of 
 grass and then stop fifteen minutes listening 
 to the old dog getting his instrument in tune. 
 His tune at the rabbit's heels was a great deal 
 sweeter to my soul than the "whack," 
 "whack" of my hoe. He was getting nearer 
 that rabbit, for he was working his instrument 
 lively. He would "boom," "boom" every 
 second. Standing there in that hot July sun, 
 with great drops of dusty sweat rolling down 
 my face, I was living in a little circle of 
 heaven, listening to an angel's song. I for- 
 got all about the grass growing beneath my 
 feet while listening to the music of my hound. 
 It was growing sweeter and sweeter, and all 
 the time I was growing more and more ob- 
 livious to my surroundings. Like a thunder- 
 bolt from a cloudless sky, "whack," "whack" 
 came down across my back an unsympathetic 
 cotton-stalk, and I went nearly out of sight, 
 and my dream and I came down together, 
 and, lo and behold! there stood pa with a 
 cotton-stalk. 
 
 In my boyhood days I had two dogs which 
 I thought more of than anything beneath the 
 sun. Empires may rise and fall, the sun, the 
 moon, and the stars may cease to shine, the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 7 
 
 rivers, the seas, and the ocean may turn to, 
 blood, the law of gravitation may be reversed, 
 and all may be forgotten, but the days — or 
 rather nights — which I spent in rambling over 
 Tippah bottom following my dogs after a 
 coon will never be forgotten, neither in this 
 world nor the next. Those things are so 
 firmly fixed in my mind that they cannot be 
 erased therefrom without — well, injuring 
 it. My dogs would go out every morning 
 before daylight and tree a coon, and remain 
 there until some one went to them. There 
 was always a rivalry among us boys as to who 
 would get there first, for the first one on the 
 scene generally got the first shot at the coon. 
 As I was easily awakened — something un- 
 usual for a lazy fellow — I generally arrived 
 ahead of the rest. 
 
 One morning in October I awoke very early 
 and heard the baying dogs. I knew they had 
 treed, so with noiseless tread I stole out down 
 into the bottom. I got there before dawn. 
 It was too dark for me to see anything, so I 
 waited. About daylight my father came 
 down, and we looked and looked, but not a 
 thing could we see on account of the dense 
 foliage at the tops of the bushes up which the 
 dogs were barking. We had no axe with us 
 and our gun was useless.. It was a mile back 
 
1 8 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 home, so father suggested that I climb one of 
 the bushes, and if there was a coon up there 
 he would jump out. I didn't fancy the job a 
 bit, but being urged, I started. 
 
 Up and up I slowly went, my courage 
 oozing out a great deal faster than I was get- 
 ting up that sapling. When I was ten feet 
 from the ground I tore my shirt, so I says to 
 father, "There's so many limbs on this old 
 bush its a tearing my shirt off. I want to 
 come down." I cared very little for my shirt 
 being torn, but I thought it would help me get 
 down out of that sapling; but it didn't, for 
 father only said, "Go on." I knew if I dis- 
 obeyed him and came down a sprout would be 
 used, and if I went on the coon might scratch 
 my eyes out. I was between two fires, but I 
 went on. Every minute I was looking for a 
 bear, or something, to jump on me and swal- 
 low me at one gulp. Though it was a chilly 
 morning, great drops of sweat were rolling 
 down my face. I was sorter scared. 
 
 A passing breeze swayed the tops of the 
 bushes, and right there within four feet of me 
 was the brute, and I yelled, "Great Scott! 
 here he is! He's got the biggest, bushiest 
 tail I ever seen, and his eyes shine like coals 
 of fire. I want to come down !" Father says, 
 "Well, come down then," and I just turned 
 loose and came ; but when I got to the ground 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 9 
 
 not one thing could we see, though my teeth 
 could be heard chattering all right. 
 
 Father told me to go and get an axe, and 
 I covered that mile home in about half the 
 time it takes to tell it. I never had so much 
 elasticity in my heels in all my life. I was 
 running some. When I got home I told the 
 other boys that we had treed the Devil, and 
 to come on quick and help us slay the enemy 
 of the human race. We got all the old guns 
 on the place, and each fellow had an axe, and 
 we started out to slay Job's tormentor. Oh, 
 but he never would pester the human race any 
 more after we got through with him ! 
 
 I expected when we got back to find that 
 father and the dogs had been eaten up and 
 that the president of the lower regions would 
 have a sub-torment established right there in 
 Tippah bottom. I could almost smell the fire 
 and brimstone. The nearer I got to the place 
 the more my teeth rattled. They sounded 
 like an infernal telegraph battery. But to my 
 surprise, when we got back they had not been 
 disturbed one bit. Four licks with an axe and 
 the bush I had climbed fell oyer and lodged 
 on some smaller ones. I said, "Get back, 
 boys, he'll be right down among us!" but 
 somehow he didn't come. 
 
 After beating the bushes around for ten 
 minutes, what do you suppose happened? 
 
20 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 There came trotting down that bush a little 
 old 'possum not bigger than my fist, and the 
 strangest part of it all was he didn't have a 
 hair on his tail, and his eyes didn't shine like 
 coals of fire, neither did he have any resem- 
 blance to his Satanic Majesty, if I have been 
 correctly informed. I never felt as much like 
 a brand-new fool in all my life. 'Possums 
 don't sit well on my constitution yet. 
 
 This 'possum incident has been repeated a 
 million times in actual life. It is being re- 
 peated every day. People see so many things 
 which are really small, but at first sight they 
 have immense proportions. And very often 
 it is the case that the thing which causes us 
 such a thrill of horror is, on closer inspection, 
 really a very small, harmless thing. We 
 often hear some little trifling nothing about a 
 neighbor, and it is so unexpected that we are 
 swept off our feet at the revelation. We can 
 hardly conceive of him doing such a thing, 
 but when we examine the act in a cool moment 
 and view his surroundings at the time it was 
 done it is really astonishing how little it is. 
 
 Two men will run for an office and one will 
 hear of something the other did forty years 
 before, and he will pull the thing out of its 
 closet where it has been slumbering all these 
 years, and hold it up to the gaze of the world, 
 and think he i§ doing his country a service by 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 21 
 
 so doing, and yet he never dreams that in 
 pulling the skeleton from its closet he is him- 
 self doing a greater wrong than his opponent 
 did in committing the deed itself. I say he 
 never dreams that in pulling the skeleton from 
 its closet he is doing wrong. He tries to make 
 that impression on the people. The truth of 
 the business is, he is trying to ride into office 
 by tearing his opponent down. It does his 
 heart good to see the spots which he paints 
 on his opponent, and he fairly revels in hold- 
 ing them up to the gaze of the public. 
 
 It is sometimes funny how candidates con- 
 duct themselves. Five or six will be running 
 for the same office, and there is always at 
 least one in the bunch who tries to make it ap- 
 pear that the others are trying to down him ; 
 that they are persecuting him ; that this is so 
 because they realize that he is the fellow to 
 beat, and that he is the fellow to save the 
 country. Laws a massy, such rot ! The only 
 thing that is the matter with the poor fool is 
 that he is swallowed up in his own littleness 
 and his importance is all he sees. But some- 
 times it so happens that such a monstrosity as 
 that is able to fool the people and ride into 
 the. highest office in the gift of the people. 
 But, as" old Abe Lincoln said, or they say he 
 said it, "a man may fool all the people some 
 of the time and some of the people all the 
 
22 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 time, but there never was a man and never 
 will be, who can fool all the people all the 
 time." Whether old Abe said that or not it 
 is gospel truth. All the people are hard to 
 fool even part of the time. But when one of 
 these fellows is caught his important career 
 soon comes to a finish. But let me get back 
 on the track. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 But a fellow cannot always live alone, he 
 must sooner or later select his companions. 
 In my boyhood days there were four of us 
 cronies thus associated. Where one was the 
 others were, and what one did the others did, 
 and what belonged to one belonged to all, 
 and what we did was usually a-plenty. We 
 were just the right number to get out on Sun- 
 day, or any other day,' and play that immortal 
 American game known as "seven-up." We 
 would save all the eggs we could get hold of 
 during the week, and on Sunday we would get 
 an old pot and go to the woods and feast. In 
 one place we boiled eggs Sunday after Sun- 
 day until there was a pile of shells as big as 
 an Indian mound. It might not have been 
 more than half that big, but rather than argue 
 the point I am willing to let it go at that. 
 One of the grandest things we could do was 
 to get out with an old mule and play the tricks 
 of the Texas rancher with poor yearlings, 
 and when we were galloping at the heels of a 
 yearling we would be dreaming that we were 
 tearing across a Texas prairie like a cyclone. 
 We have herded poor yearlings until they 
 were so exhausted that all the virtue of a good 
 
24 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 hickory limb could not raise them from the 
 ground. 
 
 I remember once a very serious, or what 
 came near being a very serious, accident in 
 lassoing a yearling. One Sunday afternoon — 
 that was before my courting days — we four 
 cronies got old Pete, a great long-legged old 
 mule, out down in the edge of the bottom, half 
 a mile from home, for the purpose of practic- 
 ing our new profession, lassoing yearlings. 
 We had the necessary yearling with us to 
 lasso. The oldest boy's turn came first, so he 
 mounted the old mule and made for the year- 
 ling. Round and round they had it, up and 
 down fences, through briers, bushes, and 
 everything else, but at the end of his fifteen 
 minutes the yearling was not lassoed. The 
 second boy tried his hand and with the same 
 result. The third tried it and he failed. As I 
 was the youngest I was last. 
 
 Notwithstanding my heavenly indolence, I 
 was what folks called in those days a smart 
 Aleck, and of course I had to show off. The 
 old mule was nearly run down and so was the 
 yearling, but I wasn't. My spirits had been 
 roused up seeing the other boys galloping 
 after the yearling. The old mule was mighty 
 ticklish about a spur being dug into his sides, 
 but I didn't care anything about that, so I 
 pulled on my spur, mounted the old mule, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 25 
 
 gave him a tremendous dig in the ribs and 
 after that yearling we went. I would run up 
 close to him and he would stop suddenly, and 
 the old mule would carry me forty rods be- 
 yond before I could stop him, but when we 
 got turned around we went after him again. 
 I was growing reckless, daring, courting 
 death. After running against every tree on a 
 quarter section of land, the yearling made a 
 break toward an old slough and we were at 
 his heels. He stumbled and fell down, and 
 the old mule stumbled over him and pitched 
 head-first into that old slough, and I went 
 overboard like a big bull-frog. Pete and I 
 got wet and muddy. 
 
 When I was pulled out of the slough and 
 had regained consciousness I found a knot on 
 the side of my head as big as a half-grown 
 pumpkin ; in fact, I could not tell whether the 
 knot was on my head or whether my head 
 was on the knot, but they seemed to be pretty 
 uncomfortably close, together. I had a hard 
 time trying to explain matters when I got 
 home in my dilapidated condition. I could 
 have managed my part very well, but that old 
 mule couldn't explain his part, so to make 
 sure that no mistake would be made I was led 
 out to the wood-shed. I shed my coat and 
 was introduced to a dog-wood sprout for the 
 forty-ninth time that week. Though the flesh 
 
26 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 was temporarily conquered, yet the capacity 
 for the sport of the Texas rancher and telling 
 the truth were not impaired, for the next Sun- 
 day the same thing was done over again, ex- 
 cept I neglected to fall into the slough. 
 
 Some years after this a fool phrenologist 
 wanted to examine my head and I let him. 
 He searched and searched and talked high- 
 sounding nonsense, and when he came to my 
 celebrated Texas-rancher knot he fairly boiled 
 over. He acted as though he had found a 
 gold mine. He had found the knot of "com- 
 prehensiveness," and he had never found it so 
 well developed in one so young before. He 
 preached a long sermon on the great career 
 which lay out before me. I could almost see 
 myself president or supervisor. A large 
 crowd was standing around listening to the 
 story of the wonderful future before me ; but 
 when I told him the truth about the knot he 
 looked very much like a last year's fool. 
 
 We four cronies rarely ever did anything 
 for pure low-down meanness, and yet at times 
 we would break over the rules of moral up- 
 rightness and rectitude and do some real mean 
 act, and we could generally do it without 
 much inconvenience to our consciences; in 
 fact, they never troubled us after doing any- 
 thing ugly unless it afterward dawned upon 
 us that we were likely to be caught up with. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 27 
 
 Then we had troubled consciences. After a 
 day's work of doubtful propriety we could 
 sleep the sleep of the just and have no ugly 
 dreams. When the shades of night would 
 fall the evil done during the day would be 
 driven out into outer darkness where there 
 was wailing and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 I remember there was an old woman who 
 lived several miles away, and her tongue had 
 a tremendous bad reputation. It would cut 
 like a two-edged sword. It must have been a 
 mile long. It might be well to cut that in 
 two — I mean the tongue, not the mile. We 
 thought it would be funny if we could slip 
 over and do some mean act and get away 
 without being caught. We knew that we 
 would have to be very cautious or trouble 
 would overtake us. First, we debated how 
 we could conceal our identity. First one plan 
 and then another was suggested, but there 
 were weak points in each, so all were dis- 
 carded almost as soon as proposed. We 
 climbed upon a ten-rail fence to devour our 
 supply of green apples borrowed from an ab- 
 sent neighbor's orchard and to further dis- 
 cuss our plan. 
 
 At length, like a whisper from the other 
 world — I don't say which world — I had the 
 very thing. Not forty feet away stood an old 
 stump which had been burned over, and it was 
 
28 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 as black as the deed we contemplated doing, 
 though what we were going to do had not 
 yet been discussed. No sooner had I said 
 "black our hands and faces," than we four 
 fellows were crowding around that stump 
 raking off the black and transferring it to our 
 hands and faces. In three minutes we were 
 as black as the stump. The thing worked like 
 magic. No one on earth, or off of it, would 
 ever know who we were. We were ready for 
 action. Now, what to do was discussed. One 
 suggested that we go and pull up the old 
 woman's potato vines; but then that would 
 do us very little good unless she happened to 
 be in sight, for she must see us doing our bad 
 deed. There would be no fun unless she did. 
 Forty other things were proposed, but all 
 were rejected on account of their inherent 
 weakness. Finally some one said, "Oh, boys, 
 I tell you what we'll do, we'll go to her house 
 and rush in among her geese and kill about 
 half of them and make the others fly off." 
 No sooner said than agreed, and no sooner 
 agreed than we were on our way to flush the 
 geese. 
 
 When we were about half way there a dif- 
 ficulty occurred to us. The old woman had a 
 bad dog, very bad. We discussed the dog 
 question at some length. It was finally set- 
 tled, however, that each fellow would need a 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 29 
 
 stick and that four of us ought to keep that 
 dog off. We would take the risk anyway. 
 We couldn't afford to he cowards, especially 
 when we were out on the warpath, so each cut 
 a good stout limb five feet long and resumed 
 his march. We felt as bold as the Crusaders. 
 We slipped up behind the barn and looked 
 over into the lot, and there the geese sat in the 
 sun, about twenty in number, sleeping peace- 
 fully. With a bound and a yell we landed in 
 the lot and began to flourish our clubs. The 
 geese squalled and squealed and flew in every 
 direction, some against the fence and some 
 against the barn. Such a commotion was 
 never seen in a goose yard before nor since. 
 
 The old woman heard the racket, and she 
 and the old dog started to the rescue. She 
 was armed with a long butcher knife. When 
 we saw this our hearts failed and we broke 
 for the fence. We had not gone more than 
 forty yards when that infernal dog came up 
 with us. We began to beat him back, and 
 succeeded, but we could not beat him and run 
 too. The old woman was gaining on us. 
 The other boys threw down their clubs and 
 ran like deers. I was a little duck-legged fel- 
 low, and I was so scared that I could not have 
 run a hundred yards in ten minutes. I made 
 up my mind then and there that my brief 
 earthly journey was to come to an inglorious 
 
30 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 end, but I would sell my life dearly, as Cus- 
 ter's brave boys did. The old woman was 
 crowding me and so was the dog, but by tre- 
 mendous fighting I could keep the dog off. 
 The old woman was within twenty yards of 
 me. I saw no way on earth to save myself. I 
 could occasionally hit the dog, but could not 
 disable him. I hit right and left, up and 
 down, but the only thing I could do was to 
 keep that infuriated imp of the lower regions 
 off of me. The old woman was within ten 
 paces of me, and she was flourishing her 
 butcher knife getting ready for the bloody 
 deed of carving my bones. In my desperation 
 I grew furious. My club was hurled right 
 and left with tremendous force. The old 
 woman was yelling, "Sic 'im, sic 'im, sic 'im !" 
 but he didn't need a bit of it. 
 
 When she was within eight feet of me, by 
 some sort of accident or luck I struck that 
 dog in the mouth and must have knocked out 
 half of his teeth. I saw them scatter. With 
 a bound and a howl of pain he pulled for the 
 house. I threw my stick away, and across 
 the field I went like a cyclone, with that old 
 woman within ten feet of my heels. I just 
 simply hit the ground in high places. My 
 companions were clear out of sight. I wasi 
 afraid to look back for fear I would stump 
 my toe and fall down, and then it would soon 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 3 1 
 
 be over with me, except the shouting of the 
 old woman. I could hear her puffing and 
 blowing like a mad bull. Each puff and each 
 blow gave fresh life to my heels. It seemed 
 that we had run five miles, but during all the 
 race I could tell that I was a safe distance 
 ahead of her. She was not gaining. My only 
 hope of escape was either to come up with my 
 companions and let them help me or for the 
 old woman's wind to play out on her, but it 
 didn't seem that either was ever going to 
 happen. 
 
 My legs began to weaken, I felt a tight 
 sensation just under my neck, my face felt 
 as though the blood would burst out of it. I 
 was puffing and blowing too. I was losing 
 speed, the old woman was gaining. I heard 
 her hiss right at my heels, "You won't git 
 much fu'ther before you're my meat, you little 
 black devil!" and I was really thinking the 
 same thing, but I still pulled for all I was 
 worth. All at once I heard something "rip," 
 and involuntarily I looked back and saw that 
 she had hung her coat-tail on a snag, and it 
 had tripped her, and down she came! The 
 day was saved, glory hallelujah ! Such im- 
 precations were never hurled at a poor fellow 
 which she hurled at me as I flew across the 
 field. I didn't stop running, however, though 
 the old woman did. On and on I sped until 
 
32 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 my wind was gone. I slowed down. Not a 
 trace of my fleeing companions could I find. 
 I fell from a run to a trot and from a trot to 
 a walk. 
 
 Walking along through a dense wood I 
 heard voices. I stopped and heard my com- 
 panions talking. I sat down and listened. 
 They were discussing my sad fate. How 
 serious and solemn they talked. My disap- 
 pearance would have to be explained. They 
 felt sure the old woman and dog would carve 
 me up so that I would never be recognized if 
 my remains should be found. They guessed 
 that after she was through with her bloody 
 work she would throw me into a gully, and 
 one of them said, "Well, if she does, all we 
 can do will be to let the buzzards have him." 
 That sounded real nice, and I was in the right 
 frame of mind to appreciate such sentiments 
 as that. It did me good. I was at least mod- 
 erately glad that I was not carved up and 
 piled in a gully as they supposed I was. 
 
 When I had caught up sufficient wind to 
 speak I said, "Not on your life the buzzards 
 won't get me, at least not this trip." If an 
 apparition had just risen up out of the ground 
 those boys wouid not have been more excited ; 
 but when they ascertained that it was really 
 me, flesh and blood and all still in one hunk, 
 I was, for the first time in my life, a real hero, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 33 
 
 a genuine living one! How many geese we 
 slew we never found out, but in this cool 
 moment I really don't think we ever touched 
 a single one, for which I am truly thankful, 
 for we won't have to answer over yonder any 
 charge of goose murder on that Sunday morn- 
 ing. Goose hunting was not our occupation 
 after that. 
 
 If the deeds of us creatures here below are 
 recorded in the other world and the books are 
 open for inspection, the records made by us 
 four cronies will contain some very interest- 
 ing reading for the angels. It will provoke 
 considerable amusement for that happy band. 
 But then I hope at least a part of the things 
 we did while traveling the rough and rocky 
 road through boyhood's mysterious journey 
 will be left out. If it is not I think it will 
 be only necessary for us to remind good St. 
 Peter that he was once a boy, and not only a 
 boy, but a fisherman, and then we will have 
 no trouble in passing in; and as we pass in I 
 now imagine that I can hear the good saint 
 saying, "First a boy, and then an angel." 
 Now, dear girls, don't get "hefty" about this, 
 for you know you are angels to start with. 
 Good day. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A boy is a mysterious invention. No one 
 can understand him, he cannot understand 
 himself. The only things he ever does right 
 are to dream and get into mischief, at least 
 that is all the sort that lived in my neck of 
 the woods. Until he reaches a certain age all 
 he cares for is mud-puddles, rabbits, dogs, 
 guns, bucking colts and yearlings, and any- 
 thing under the sun which he can eat. He will 
 fare sumptuously for ten days on raw turnips, 
 at the end of which time he will look fairer 
 and fatter than those who have been fed on 
 the king's meat. Pains and aches are of 
 little consequence to him, unless he has a job 
 of hoeing on hand, and then a brier scratch 
 will lay him up for a week, and would lay him 
 up longer were it not for arousing suspicion. 
 You see he is somewhat of a diplomat, his 
 chief weapon being — well, the goods, wares, 
 and merchandise of politicians. He practices 
 this little art with great diligence, and in time 
 becomes very proficient in it, and when he is 
 old he refuses to part with it; at least, it is 
 hard to part with an old friend that has 
 stood by him in so many tight places, times 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 35 
 
 when he could almost feel a plow-line coming 
 down across his back. He will lie straight 
 through from the first word to the last; 
 not such lies as you and I tell, but 
 gigantic lies, lies which awe you with 
 their grandeur, lies which stun you with 
 their imperial impossibility; and if you 
 seem to doubt what he says about it he will 
 look at you in a hurt way as though you had 
 insulted his grandmother. He can look so 
 innocent when he is lying that you are almost 
 forced to turn him around to see if little wings 
 are not growing out on his back; but if you 
 happen to catch him in a lie he will slide out 
 of it in an easy, indifferent way which has an 
 unmistakable charm about it, and makes you 
 glad you caught him; but he is generally 
 sorry for it. 
 
 This little art well played has saved many 
 a fellow's poor back — including yours truly — 
 from a well-deserved striping; but a boy can 
 indulge in this luxury without the least com- 
 punction of conscience, as the preachers say, 
 and think no more of it than if he* was eating 
 a turnip. One is about as good to him as the 
 other. He never has found the law against 
 lying. He reads over the Ten Command- 
 ments, but he has never found where it says 
 "Thou shalt not lie," and it would make very 
 little difference with him if he did, unless he 
 
36 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 was a reincarnation of George Washington 
 and the cherry tree. In my boyhood days if 
 such a thing as a cherry tree had been cut 
 down, and I had been brought to time about 
 it, I would not only have said I didn't do it, 
 but I would have proved it. Perhaps this was 
 George's trouble, he didn't have any witnesses 
 handy, and it is too late now to go back and 
 find out, so I will drop the subject. 
 
 The average boy's life is spent without be- 
 ing overshadowed by any cloud. His days are 
 filled with sunshine and never a care enters his 
 soul. He is content with anything so long as 
 he doesn't have to work. That is an abom- 
 ination unto his soul. And yet he will work 
 six hours trying to get out of doing a piece of 
 work which he could do in three, and what he 
 does trying to get out of doing the work is 
 harder than the work itself. But if he has a 
 promise that if he will do a certain piece of 
 work by a certain time, he can go fishing or 
 hunting, he is sure to have the work done at 
 the appointed time and generally before, and 
 at the end of it he will be as fresh as a spring 
 morning. It is amazing how he can get over 
 the ground. 
 
 I remember one day I was told that if I 
 would hoe a certain piece of cotton up to an 
 old stump I would be at liberty the rest of the 
 day. The weather was hot and the cotton 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 37 
 
 was grassy, and I looked at the ground to be 
 gone over, and sighed. I began to figure on 
 how long it would take me to do the job. I 
 hit the first row with considerable vigor and 
 the second likewise, but it then occurred to me 
 that it might be well to count the rows. 
 There were sixteen, and they were fully a hun- 
 dred yards long and powerful grassy. It was 
 about nine o'clock, and I figured that if I 
 could not get it done by three in the afternoon 
 there would be no use to do the work, for less 
 time than that would not be worth working 
 for. However, I figured that by extra effort 
 I could do it by three, so I hit the next row. 
 When I was about the middle of it one of my 
 chums came through the field on his way to 
 the blacksmith shop with some plow-points to 
 have mended. I told him my trouble and the 
 promise of freedom when that cotton was 
 hoed to the stump, and told him that if he 
 would help me do the work we would have 
 some fun afterward. He carried his stuff to 
 the shop and was back in twenty minutes. He 
 was as lazy a piece of human flesh as ever 
 wore a shirt, but he went into that grassy 
 cotton like a hungry nigger into a bowl of 
 clam soup. The thought of what we would 
 do after the cotton was hoed caused him to 
 forget all about the fact that he had been 
 warned to be back home by twelve. We 
 
38 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 hoed and hoed, and the rows rapidly dimin- 
 ished. At 11.30 the horn blew for dinner, 
 but we lacked only four rows being done, and 
 though we were as hungry as wolves we could 
 not afford to stop. That job must be com- 
 pleted before we could stop for dinner. In an 
 hour it was finished. We had the rest of the 
 day before us. If there had been work, be- 
 fore us instead of play both of us would have 
 been half dead. 
 
 After dinner my companion was warned 
 that he had better carry his points home, but 
 he said that they would not be needed until 
 next day. He lied, by my direction, in saying 
 this. If he had gone home I would have had 
 to spend the rest of the day by myself. After 
 dinner we shouldered an old single-barrel 
 shotgun and pulled for the bottom in quest of 
 game. We stopped at the creek and took a 
 plunge. We found very little game, but we 
 shot at every sap-sucker we found, and occa- 
 sionally took a crack at a tree for practice. 
 Our aim was always bad. Once I mistook a 
 hog for a bear, and blazed away at him at a 
 distance of only ten paces, and succeeded in 
 blowing a hole in the ground four feet in front 
 of me. The hog got away, and so did we. 
 Then we went up the bottom in search of 
 more game. We found some, but our aim 
 was always poor and it all escaped; that is, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 39 
 
 the game did, not our aim. Up to that time 
 we had bagged one rain-crow by accident. 
 Perhaps he was a hard-shell and thought his 
 appointed time had come for him to yield up 
 the ghost, and he yielded. But we were hav- 
 ing plenty of fun. 
 
 All of a sudden we came to the realization 
 of the sad fact that our ammunition was out, 
 at least the powder was. That was thunder. 
 A council of war was called to discuss this im- 
 portant matter. We could not hunt without 
 tools, that was certain, if we expected to kill 
 anything, which we didn't. It was only about 
 three o'clock by guess, and we could not af- 
 ford to even think of going home at that un- 
 earthly hour, besides it might be that some 
 one would be there looking for my chum, 
 Billie. It was only a mile to a country store 
 where we could get plenty of powder, if we 
 only had the money, which we didn't have, 
 and it was pretty certain that we didn't have 
 any credit there either, at least unless the 
 store-keeper's son happened to be in the store. 
 He was in the store only when his father was 
 called away on business. It was our last 
 chance and we took it. As luck would have 
 it the boy was on duty. We knew that we 
 would have to resort to diplomacy in order to 
 get what we wanted even from the boy. I 
 knew the boy and managed him. I told him 
 
40 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 that we had run across a gang of wild-cats be- 
 low the house, and had shot eighteen times* 
 and killed about fourteen of them, and that 
 there were fully that many more, and we had 
 run up there after some powder to kill out the 
 balance of them, and that if he didn't let us 
 have some and have it quick they might, yes, 
 would, be up there in ten minutes and eat him 
 up. This was probably a little exaggerated, 
 but it came very near scaring him to death, 
 and in less than no time he had filled our horn 
 full of powder without even weighing it. 
 
 The boy must have suspected that we had 
 not told the truth after we had gone, for we 
 never heard anything from the store man 
 about the powder not being paid for. • We 
 had plenty of shot and caps. We did not 
 tarry longer, but pulled — well, not for the 
 wil'd-cats, but back to the bottom. We got 
 reckless. We shot at everything from a wren 
 to a buzzard, and though we very often 
 knocked out great wads of feathers we failed 
 to get any meat. That old single-barrel thun- 
 dered like the Wilderness fight. We had 
 never had so much fun in our lives. The sun 
 was gliding down the western sky before we 
 knew it, and the shades were stealing down 
 through the trees and our thoughts turned 
 homeward, and so did our feet. 
 
 We fixed up a wonderful tale to tell when 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 4 1 
 
 we got home, but we never told it. Billie's 
 father was there, and his blood was boiling 
 and his wrath was kindled against his truant 
 boy. I saw trouble in the air. I saw thun- 
 der and lightning leaping across his face. I 
 saw the storm break. I saw it lash and clash 
 and rap, but above the clatter I could hear 
 poor Billie's yells. I crawled under the wood- 
 shed and watched the proceedings. A great 
 pity for Billie rose up in my heart, and it was 
 all I could do to keep from raising my single- 
 barrel and giving Billie's pa a load of shot; 
 in fact, I am quite sure I would have done so 
 had I been certain of my aim. - When he was 
 through with the poor boy there were stripes 
 on him as big as my finger and his clothes 
 were whipped to tatters. I had been licked a 
 good many times, but all mine put together 
 did not amount to what Billie got then. 
 
 Five years after this there was an assem- 
 blage of people at the church a few miles 
 away. People came from far and near. It 
 was on Sunday. The preacher got up and 
 read some passages from the Bible and then 
 told about the death, the resurrection, and 
 then the new life. After he was through the 
 lid was taken off of the coffin and there was 
 poor Billie's pale, wan face, stilled in death. 
 The roses were gone from his cheeks, his poor 
 bony hands were crossed on his pulseless 
 
42 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 bosom. He didn't resemble his former self, 
 he was so poor and wasted. His father came 
 and got down by him and cried as though his 
 heart would break. As I looked on I thought 
 of that day five years before when we had 
 gone hunting, and what a beating Billie had 
 received when we got home, and as he lay 
 there in his coffin so still in death, and his 
 father taking on over him so, I wondered if 
 the vision of that day did not rise up before 
 him. I wondered if that day did not cause 
 him to take his death harder, and I wondered 
 if he did not think that if he only had his 
 boy back with him he would be a little more 
 indulgent, a little less cruel. I saw the lid 
 placed back on the coffin which closed from 
 human sight forever the face of my dear 
 friend Billie, and I saw him placed in his nar- 
 row bed there to await the morning when all 
 shall be called forth to stand before a just 
 Judge and render to him an account of what 
 they have done here; but when Billie stands 
 there, though he did many things which he 
 should not have done, I am sure he will be 
 handed a passport into the New Jerusalem, 
 for he had one of the kindest, most unselfish 
 hearts ever placed in a human bosom. 
 
 I have often wondered why it is that some 
 parents treat their children so much more like 
 brutes than they do human. To be sure, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 43 
 
 there should be discipline, but there is a great 
 difference between cruelty and discipline. I 
 have seen boys whipped as though they were 
 mules for mere trifles, and I have never yet 
 seen a boy who was treated that way who 
 ever amounted to anything. Such treatment 
 as that seems to destroy all those noble quali- 
 ties which Nature's God planted within the 
 soul which should be encouraged and de- 
 veloped and brought out. Too many people 
 seem to forget, or never knew, that beating is 
 not training. I have never yet seen a boy who 
 was trained to do work turn out badly. All 
 such that I have ever known have made 
 good, honest, faithful citizens, men who are 
 worth something to the community in which 
 they live. Too many parents mistake 
 what is commonly called "devilishness" for 
 meanness. There is a world of difference 
 between the two. Devilishness is simply 
 the life of the boy exhibiting itself. There 
 is no wicked intent behind an act of devilish- 
 ness, but only that heavenly desire to have 
 some innocent fun. Some parents are so fool- 
 ish as to think that their boys should conduct 
 themselves as though they were three score 
 and ten years old. Such a thing as that is 
 as impossible as it would be for a boy to 
 throw an elephant over the moon by his tail. 
 Parents should closely watch the actions of 
 
44 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 their boys. When parents see an evil ten- 
 dency developing in the boy, they should at 
 once set about to curb it, but they should be 
 very sure that it is meanness and not merely 
 devilment. 
 
 However, there are those who do not curb 
 the evil tendencies which they see developing 
 in their boys. They will laugh when their 
 boys do mean, cruel tricks, and day by day 
 they see them going from bad to worse and 
 never lay a restraining hand on them. Such 
 a course is almost sure to land that boy in jail, 
 the penitentiary, or on the gallows. 
 
 It is not the amount of punishment a boy 
 gets which corrects an evil in him, but it is 
 the certainty of punishment. This should be 
 the rule in all cases of punishment. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 All boys are vain. I mean by that, that 
 they prize things which they own much higher 
 than they are really worth. The possession 
 of any little thing out of the ordinary makes 
 him feel like a monarch. A pop-gun makes 
 him as proud as a warrior at his cannon. A 
 pocket-knife makes him strut as a Napoleon 
 with a silver sword. A pistol would make a 
 perfect desperado of him, even though it had 
 no hammer or trigger. I used to get a hard 
 piece of oak and round it off and make it as 
 near the shape of a pistol as I could, bore a 
 hole five or six inches deep in it for a barrel, 
 and then bore a gimlet hole on top for the 
 tube, and I would ram the thing down into 
 my pocket — if I happened to have such' a 
 thing — and strut like a true Westerner with 
 his navy six-shooter. I would fill the thing 
 full of powder and shot, wedge it in a forked 
 tree, stand a target in front of it, get a pole 
 ten feet long and fire one end of it and stick 
 it to the tube, and the thing would roar like 
 distant thunder. 
 
 I remember once I failed to secure my pistol 
 in the tree as I should have done, and when I 
 
46 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 fired the thing off it came back at me with a 
 terrific bound and struck me just above the. 
 left eye. I saw forty million stars. Some 
 fool will wonder how I managed to count that 
 many, but I now give fair warning that it will 
 not be healthy to doubt the statement. In 
 three minutes there was a black knot over my 
 eye as big as a hen egg. I knew instantly that 
 there would have to be a lot of explaining 
 done when I got home, so I sat down and 
 began to make the necessary preparations. It 
 would not do to say that I had been climbing, 
 for I had been too often warned not to do 
 that. I could not say that a yearling had 
 bucked me off, for that also was forbidden; 
 that is, riding a yearling, not being bucked 
 off. And of course I could not afford to say 
 that I had been in a fight, for that would mean 
 a licking sure enough, and besides it would be 
 a lie as well. Several things presented them- 
 selves, but all had their failings; they would 
 not answer. At last I had it. For some 
 months it had been reported that a huge cata- 
 mount had been seen in that community, and 
 it was not a bit of trouble for me to see it, 
 especially if it would help me out of my 
 present difficulty. So I went home with a 
 fine-spun yarn as big as the Rocky Mountains 
 about how I saw the catamount and he gave 
 an immense squall, and so did I, and I lit out 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 47 
 
 down the hill like a thousand ghosts were at 
 my heels, and after running a mile or two I 
 stumped my toe and fell down and struck my 
 head against a rock, and — There, that just 
 fit exactly, and my excited condition carried 
 conviction and the story was never questioned, 
 except by myself. The thing worked so well 
 that I was forced to believe a little of it my- 
 self. 
 
 The one thing which raises a boy above 
 everything else in the world, the thing which 
 overshadows everything else, the one thing 
 which he had rather possess than the crown 
 of any imperial monarch on earth, the one 
 thing which he would pawn his soul to own, is 
 to be the owner of a watch, one that will 
 "tick." No matter how much brass there 
 may be in its composition, no> matter how loud 
 it may tick, no matter whether it has any 
 hands or face, no matter if it can spin off an 
 hour in fifteen minutes, or whether it takes it 
 half a day to make one revolution, just so it 
 will run it is all right. If it will only do that 
 it gives entire satisfaction. No matter how 
 many watches he may subsequently own, and 
 no matter how fine they may be, he never feels 
 that sublime satisfaction, that imperial joy 
 which he feels when he finds himself the 
 owner of his first watch. He never forgets 
 it. I well remember mine. 
 
48 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 A cousin of mine owned a great big open- 
 faced Waterbury with a crystal on it an inch 
 thick, and it puffed up like an immense biscuit 
 with a pound of soda in it; and oh! wonder 
 of wonders, it had the most sublime tick in 
 the world. It was charming. You could 
 actually hear it clawing across a ten-acre field. 
 It sounded sweeter to my soul than any music 
 I ever expected to hear over in Beulah Land. 
 Though the thing has been dead lo these many 
 years, I sometimes think I can hear its tick 
 coming from the other world. This is prob- 
 ably only a fancy. It was my heart's desire 
 to possess that watch. How I did envy him 
 in the possession of it. One day he offered 
 to sell it to me, and the strangest part of it 
 was he offered to take a dollar and a half for 
 it; but unfortunately I didn't have the dollar 
 and a half right handy, nor any part thereof, 
 and what was worse I was not likely to have 
 it any time soon. I offered to buy it on credit, 
 but somehow he was afraid to risk me that 
 far. I argued with him that I was honest, — I 
 always was, and still am, thank you, — and I 
 told him that if I didn't pay him the watch 
 would stand good for itself ; but my argument 
 failed to carry any convincing power into his 
 hard head. However, he told me that if I 
 would get my father to give me a six months' 
 old pig he would give me the watch for it. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 49 
 
 We had lots of pigs at home, more than we 
 needed, and I was quite sure that I would have 
 little trouble in inducing father to give me a 
 pig, especially when I was going to make such 
 a fine trade, so I went home with my heels in 
 the air and broached the subject. 
 
 Something forewarned me that consider- 
 able diplomacy would be required, and that I 
 should keep the object in view in the back- 
 ground until the trade was consummated, so I 
 just asked for the pig outright; but I found 
 that he had some of my diplomacy about him, 
 and he was diplomat enough to want to know 
 what I was going to do with it. I hated to 
 tell, but he insisted on knowing. I argued, 
 but he insisted on his point and I had to tell, 
 but he only said "shucks." That means no. 
 I argued the point, insisting that it was a good 
 trade. I entreated, begged, implored, and 
 perhaps wept a little, but he was firm. He 
 said the old thing was no account, but I gently 
 reminded him that it could be heard ticking 
 three hundred yards, and a thing which could 
 make that much noise surely had some virtue 
 about it, at least it had some power; but he 
 was "sot" in his way, and I didn't get the pig. 
 For three weeks I was as sullen as a 'possum. 
 I lost my appetite and I couldn't sleep. My 
 disappointment was great, it knew no bounds. 
 4 
 
50 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Life lost its charms. I was ruined. The 
 opportunity of my life had passed, and all 
 because I failed to get that pig. I would go 
 to my grave with gray hairs and in sorrow, 
 and go prematurely; but I've not gone yet, 
 I'm glad to say. 
 
 My cousin was insistent upon me getting 
 that pig, but it was useless. He had the impu- 
 dence to suggest that I steal it, but I would 
 not soil my hands that way for any such 
 watch; besides, there was a great deal of risk 
 to run ; that is to say, the thing might leak out 
 and I would get my back striped. I would 
 keep my hands clean, at least until I knew 
 there would be no danger in being caught. 
 But I determined to have that watch. I was 
 young and could afford to wait. In the fall I 
 would pick cotton for somebody and get 
 enough money to buy the thing. I would be 
 independent. I would show my grit. I was 
 going to possess that watch, and by my own 
 efforts, too. But about the middle of summer 
 a catastrophe happened to the watch. It 
 broke down ! It would not run a lick, not one. 
 But I was not discouraged, though I wept a 
 few gallons of salty tears and mourned some. 
 I began to look for another. I soon found 
 one. It just suited me and it was cheap. It 
 had no brand, and it was as black as the ace 
 of spades, but that made no difference. It had 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 5 1 
 
 two lids on it, one on the front and one on the 
 back. It had a thin crystal, three hands, and 
 was a stemwinder! It also had the proper 
 amount of running gear inside, so the owner 
 said. Besides, it had a chain the same color 
 as the watch. I could get the whole outfit for 
 six bits ! Land sakes, think of it ! A running 
 watch and chain for six bits! It was like 
 stealing it. 
 
 But again I didn't have the six bits, and 
 the fellow didn't have confidence enough in 
 my ability to raise that much, so he would not 
 credit me. I had to wait. He proposed, how- 
 ever, that if I would get up forty cents he 
 would give me his watch for that and my 
 knife. I had to figure some on that proposi- 
 tion. In the first place, I had no way of 
 getting the forty cents, and besides I had 
 rather have parted with my right foot than 
 my knife. That was not to be considered for 
 a moment. I could get along without the 
 watch, but a knife was a necessity. I began to 
 plot and plan for that forty cents and another 
 knife. 
 
 One day I was sent to a country store three 
 miles away with a dozen chickens and a list 
 of things which I was to buy with the proceeds 
 of the chickens. As I went along the hot, 
 dusty road my thinking apparatus was active. 
 I was thinking of that watch. Would it be 
 
52 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 possible for me to "jew" the store-keeper 
 down on part of the things I was to buy and 
 have enough left over to get me a new knife ? 
 I debated the probability of such a thing all 
 the way to the store. It was hardly probable 
 he would do such a thing, and yet if I would 
 go to him and lay my case before him in a 
 child-like way, and, with as few lies as 
 possible, tell him of my troubles, he might 
 do it. At least I would try him, and if 
 he didn't there would be nothing lost. He 
 usually paid a bit for such chickens as I had 
 and the dozen would come to a dollar and 
 fifty cents. When I got to the store I met 
 with the greatest surprise of my life. The 
 storekeeper looked over the bunch carefully 
 and finally said, "Well, chickens is up a 
 leetle; I can give you fifteen cents all round; 
 that will be a dollar and eighty cents for the 
 bunch." What? Did I correctly understand 
 him? I never had such feelings to run up 
 and down my back-bone in all my life. Thirty 
 cents left over after buying all the articles 
 named on my bill. I made my purchases, and 
 he said, "Well, sonny, there's thirty cents left; 
 what'll you have for that?" "Give me that 
 double-bladed Roger's knife," said I with 
 considerable satisfaction. I went home as one 
 in a dream, but before I got there my con* 
 science began to trouble me. I felt as though 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 53 
 
 I had a stolen article in my pocket. It hurt 
 me. Then it dawned upon me that the folks 
 at home might, and would in all probability, 
 find out what I had received for the chickens 
 and what I had done with the balance of the 
 money left after buying my bill of goods, and 
 then there would be a row, more than likely a 
 licking. The only thing I could do was to 
 hide the knife and keep mum about what I 
 had received for the chickens, and trust to 
 luck to keep the thing a secret. Fpr the next 
 two months I lived in torment. I suffered a 
 great deal more than the knife was worth, and 
 even now I may be running some risk in 
 telling the thing. 
 
 I went to the owner of the watch, and when 
 he saw my new knife he cut a dime on his 
 watch! He would take thirty cents and my 
 new knife for the watch. How close I was to 
 owning a real watch and yet how far off, for 
 I didn't have that thirty cents and he wouldn't 
 wait. It was three months until cotton-pick- 
 ing time, and I was afraid that he would go 
 up on his watch before that time. If he did 
 it might mean my ruin. I set about trying to 
 get it right then — I couldn't let the oppor- 
 tunity pass. I carried an old stray sheep home 
 one day and got half of the amount. Then 
 there was a picnic near home, and the day 
 after I went over to look around the lemonade 
 
54 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 stands in search of lost coins. I had rich luck 
 again. I found a dime! Only one more 
 nickel and the victory would be won, all by 
 my own efforts and sagacity, or something 
 like that. Where to get that nickel troubled 
 me. I thought and thought. 
 
 One day I went to one of my aunts and told 
 her that if she would lend me a nickel I would 
 help her dig her potatoes in the fall. I had 
 luck again; she loaned me the nickel and 
 never even asked me what I was going to do 
 with it. It was the first time I had ever be- 
 come a debtor, actually a borrower of money. 
 I had the whole thing, and before the sun 
 went down on that Sunday evening I was the 
 owner in fee-simple of that watch — lock, 
 stock and barrel. It was mine ! Just at that 
 moment I would not have swapped places with 
 the proudest monarch on earth, nor would I 
 have changed places with good St. Peter; at 
 least I would not unless they would have let 
 me take the watch with me. I stuck the watch 
 into my breeches pocket and the end of the 
 chain in the button-hole in the end of my bed- 
 tick suspenders. It stretched clear across my 
 abdomen. I could feel it as my front "swelled 
 and felled." The delight which filled my soul 
 at that moment will not be exceeded when St. 
 Peter opens the portals of the New Jerusalem 
 and says, "Walk into your eternal home." I 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 55 
 
 felt that nations might rise and fall, kings 
 might ascend thrones only to be deposed, 
 armies and navies might rise up and slaughter 
 each other, but the sun would forever shine 
 in my soul, caused by my owning that watch. 
 But when I got in sight of home a fear came 
 over me. If it should be found out that I had 
 that watch an explanation would be required 
 and I didn't have one right handy. My 
 mental fixtures were in no good mood for 
 getting up a satisfactory one, at least one that 
 I was willing to trust, so I slipped up into the 
 fodder-loft and concealed it. I found a con- 
 venient place and hid it. I lay awake until 
 midnight thinking of my earthly possessions 
 hid away in the fodder-loft where the rats and 
 mice could listen to the music of its ticking 
 and I was debarred of that luxury. It made 
 me sick. 
 
 Every morning I would go down and wind 
 it up. Some mornings when I would go down 
 I would find that it was in the neighborhood 
 of twelve o'clock. I could not tell whether 
 it meant midnight or noon, but really it didn't 
 matter, for the fact that it was running was 
 sufficient for all purposes. When I would go 
 anywhere I would dig out my watch, and 
 when I was out of sight I would hang the 
 chain out and strut. But somehow, just 
 before getting to the place where I had 
 
56 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 started for, watch, chain, and all would go to 
 the bottom of my pocket and stay there until 
 I started for home; not because I was 
 ashamed of it, but because I didn't want to be 
 too conspicuous, nor a fool. When I returned 
 home it would be deposited in its dusty box 
 again. It never occurred to me that it was 
 possible for such a thing as dust to get into 
 the thing, besides I didn't suppose dust would 
 hurt it if it did. One morning I went down to 
 the barn and found my watch a corpse. It 
 wouldn't run a lick. I shook it good and 
 hard, but it would kick only once or twice and 
 lie still. I wound it up, but that didn't help 
 it. Evidently something was badly wrong. 
 Perhaps it needed greasing. I stole the bottle 
 of castor oil and proceeded to lubricate its 
 joints. I poured a good half-tea-spoonful 
 into it. It wouldn't act. It would not even 
 kick once. It was dead as Hector. I was 
 miserable, yes ruined. I didn't have any 
 money to pay a jeweler to restore it to life, 
 even if I had been where I could have had ac- 
 cess to one. I took the running gear out of it. 
 The dust and castor oil seemed to have 
 gummed it up. 
 
 I carried it down to the branch and gave it 
 a good washing. I laid it out to dry, and 
 while it was drying I proceeded to devour 
 some blackberries. When I got back to it, lo 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 57 
 
 and behold, the thing was clawing away for 
 life ! It had been restored to life. It was 
 wonderful. I was beginning to feel — But 
 I turned it over and nearly fainted. In wash- 
 ing it I had washed the face off. There it 
 was as blank as my hand, but that was a small 
 matter, inasmuch as it had been resurrected 
 and was now running at a pretty fair rate of 
 speed. That was its main virtue. Just keep 
 that up and the balance of its failings could 
 go to blazes. I got it back into its brass hull 
 and gently laid it away in the fodder-loft. I 
 wrapped it up good to prevent its taking cold. 
 Next morning I went down to see how it had 
 rested, and, horror of horrors, the thing was 
 as dead as a door-nail. I wound it up again 
 and shook it some more, but not a lick would 
 it kick. It seemed to be as "tight as Dick's 
 hat-band." Perhaps it needed another wash- 
 ing, and it got it. After its bath I laid it out 
 to dry some more. It dried, but still refused 
 to run. Perhaps getting wet had caused its 
 joints to swell up and it was too "tight." 
 
 I got the screw-driver and proceeded to 
 loosen things up a bit. All its joints were 
 loosened, but never a lick would it run. I 
 loosened some more, and yet some more, but 
 not a bit of relief came. I kept on loosening 
 up, until first thing I knew it fell in to a 
 million pieces. Its timbers went clattering 
 
58 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 down by my feet and the wheels rolled around 
 in the dust. I picked up its remains in my hat 
 and proceeded to reconstruct it, but I had too 
 many pieces. I could not get them to fit. I 
 worked and worked with the patience of Job, 
 but I was not successful in getting each piece 
 in its proper place. Perhaps I didn't under- 
 stand the business very well, and now in this 
 cool, calm moment as I write about it I really 
 don't think I did understand it. It seemed to 
 me that I had enough pieces to make half a 
 dozen such watches. I gave up in despair. I 
 sat there in the hot sun with its remains in my 
 hat, the most woe-begone creature who ever 
 traveled in this low ground of sin and sorrow. 
 My past sins rose up before me, and some- 
 times I felt that this must be a sad dispensa- 
 tion of Providence sent upon me as a punish- 
 ment for my wrong-doing, and I don't know 
 yet but what it was. At any rate, I was the 
 most miserable being on earth. Should a just 
 Providence decide that my doom should be 
 down below where there is weeping and 
 gnashing of teeth, He could not subject me 
 to a greater punishment than to repeat that 
 hour when I sat there on the bank of that 
 branch holding the remains of my first watch 
 in my hat. 
 
 I got a box and nailed its remains up in it, 
 and planted them by the branch, with the bare 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 59 
 
 hope that there was such a thing as a resurrec- 
 tion of watches, and that not many days hence 
 it would come forth clothed in its right mind ; 
 but the dream has not yet been realized, and I 
 am beginning to think it never will be. One 
 morning, after a tremendous rain, I went 
 down to the branch to view the little mound 
 and found that the box had been washed up 
 and the flood had carried its remains to old 
 Ocean's blue waves. Perhaps it is in the 
 bottom of the briny deep keeping time for the 
 big fishes and tadpoles. I sat down beside the 
 sacred spot and cried a tubful of salty tears. 
 
 The foregoing leads me to make some 
 remarks about — something. Let me see what 
 it is. Oh, yes. Some folks are so optimistic, 
 or stupid, that they seem never to dream that 
 there is such a thing in life as disappointment. 
 They pitch out in life as though they expected 
 to get everything they wanted, and that there 
 never would be any such things as clouds and 
 shadows, cares and sorrows. Most people 
 have a mistaken idea of what optimism is. 
 They seem to think it is always looking for 
 the good things which may be had and closing 
 the eyes to the bad, always thinking of success 
 and not failure, always expecting an easy sail- 
 ing course ; but this is not optimism. 
 
 Optimism is. preparing one's self for 
 reverses, disappointments, and such while 
 
60 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 looking for the good things which may be 
 had. It is the keeping of the eyes on both the 
 good things and the bad. If a farmer should 
 start in the spring of the year to make a crop, 
 and should expect to have ideal weather from 
 planting-time until harvest-time, that he 
 would have rain just at the time he wanted it 
 and sunshine the same way, he would be very 
 sure to be disappointed, for should there be a 
 wet June he would find that he was not pre- 
 pared for it. The true optimist looks out for 
 these hard, disagreeable things, and when he 
 comes tip with them he is to some extent at 
 least able to pass them successfully, like a pilot 
 looking out for breakers. If the pilot should 
 be an extreme optimist he would not look for 
 the breakers, and first thing he knew his vessel 
 would be broken to pieces. 
 
 Perhaps there has never been a man or 
 woman who has lived just the life he or she 
 expected to live on starting out. Disappoint- 
 ments are very sure to come, for no matter 
 what one does there is always some one ready 
 to oppose him, and it would be a miracle if 
 one should go through life without being over- 
 come at some time. If his life is spent in 
 doing good he finds plenty of opposition, and 
 if it is spent in doing bad he likewise finds 
 opposition. This has been the history of the 
 human race from the beginning, and it will 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 6 1 
 
 continue until the end. When Adam and Eve 
 were placed in the Garden of Eden, where all 
 things were planned by the hand of perfection 
 and there was no sin, the serpent met Eve 
 when she was doing nothing wrong, and 
 tempted her, and she fell into sin. They were 
 living . in a state of perf ectness and they 
 seemed to have thought that it would ever 
 continue, but when the first temptation came 
 they sinned. And it is the same to-day. 
 People start out in life with pure, honest 
 motives and seem to think it is impossible for 
 them to go 1 wrong at any time, but temptations 
 get in the way and in an unguarded moment 
 they fall. 
 
 There are some people in the world who 
 are such extreme optimists that they give a 
 literal interpretation to the Scripture which 
 says, "Ask whatsoever ye will and I will give 
 it thee." They seem to think that all they 
 have to do is to call on Providence for a 
 bushel of meal, a barrel of flour, can of lard, 
 or slab of meat when they need it and it will 
 be forthcoming. Generally such a fellow is 
 disappointed, and generally means always. 
 
 It reminds me of an old negro who once 
 believed that Scripture literally. He thought 
 when he needed anything all he had to do was 
 to get down at night and ask the Lord to 
 send it to him and the next morning he would 
 
62 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 wake up and find it piled up on the foot of his 
 bed. One day a white man passed by the old 
 negro's cabin and he was sitting on the door- 
 step eating a large drum-stick of a chicken. 
 The man wanted to know where he got it, and 
 old Eph said: "Well, boss, you knows I 
 b'leves dat when we wants anythin' all we has 
 tcf do is to ax fer it, so las' night I axed de 
 Lawd fer a chicken, an', bless Gawd, dis 
 mornin' I was woke up by de music of a 
 crowin' rooster. I rubbed my eyes, an' bless 
 Gawd if dar wuzn't de finest red rooster 
 settin' on de foot o' my bed I ebber seed, an' 
 I jes' riz an' said, 'You's my meat,' an' in 
 less'n no time dat rooster's head wuz off an' I 
 had him in a pot biling away; haw, haw, 
 haw !" But in less than an hour the sheriff was 
 around with a writ for the arrest of Uncle 
 Eph. And though he called on the Lord very 
 manfully while he was serving his term on the 
 rock pile, his prayer was not, at last accounts, 
 answered. 
 
 It occurs to me that the way tx> get what we 
 want — that is, material things — is to ask for 
 them and then do our part toward bringing 
 to pass the thing prayed for; but don't go at 
 it as Eph did. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 There comes a time in every fellow's life 
 when he begins to think of laying aside mud- 
 puddles, rabbits, dogs, guns, bucking-colts and 
 yearlings, and things which he once got so 
 much pleasure out of, and then he centers his 
 thoughts on other things. When he gets too 
 big for these things he begins to feel a sensa- 
 tion just under his left shoulder, front, which 
 is new to him. At first he doesn't know what 
 it is. He thinks it is his meanness concen- 
 trated in one spot, but it isn't. He catches 
 himself casting guilty glances at the other side 
 of the school-house, and when his eyes meet 
 somebody else's, his fall to the floor. What is 
 the matter with the goose ? He is in love for 
 the first time. He looks silly, he talks silly, 
 he acts silly, and is silly, but he doesn't care so 
 long as the object of his silliness will look at 
 him once in a while. 
 
 What a wonderful change comes over him. 
 He shines his rusty brogans with tallow and 
 soot; he brushes his hair every morning, and 
 now and then steals a little lard and rubs on it ; 
 he brushes his clothes and puts on a high 
 collar and shoofly tie ; he looks genteel, and he 
 
64 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 has that dreamy, far-away look which talks so 
 loud. 
 
 One thing he never forgets — he never for- 
 gets the first time he calls on his sweetheart. 
 That makes an impression upon him which is 
 as lasting as the eternal hills. Well do I 
 remember the first time I had the impudence 
 to ask a girl if I could go home with her. We 
 had been knowing each other all our lives, had 
 lived within a mile of each other, and had 
 been going to the same school ten or twelve 
 years. At school I could steal glances at her 
 so easy, or if I could slip around and say two 
 or three words to her I could do it in a perfect 
 Chesterfield manner. When she would come 
 to our home I could talk to her with all 
 manner of ease and grace, but on this the first 
 time I asked her if I could go home with her 
 — well, that was another matter, that was 
 courting. Another fellow had been going to 
 see her for quite a while, in fact he kept every- 
 body else from going. One Sunday at preach- 
 ing a crowd of my sort put after me to go 
 home with her, and I didn't have any more 
 sense than to try it, and, strange to say, I was 
 successful. 
 
 Her sweetheart would station himself at 
 the door, and when she made her appearance 
 he would make his engagement; but my 
 cronies told me not to wait, that as soon as 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 65 
 
 services were over to go around and make 
 known my wants. All through that service I 
 was casting sheep's-eyes in her direction, and 
 if our eyes happened to meet my heart would 
 jump like a sack of bull-frogs. I got very 
 little spiritual good out of that service. I was 
 too much bewildered to absorb it. By and by 
 the services closed, and before I knew what I 
 was doing I nosed around, sidled up and said, 
 "You got any company with you to-day?" and 
 when she said "No," I said, "Can I go?" 
 She hitched and hawed a little, started to say 
 no, but finally said, "I reckin so." My head 
 flew around like a flying jenny, but I didn't 
 care, the enemy was beat. Sure enough, when 
 she got to the door her sweetheart was there, 
 and when he asked her if he could go home 
 with her and she told him she had company, 
 his feathers fell. It did me good all over. 
 
 I had presence of mind enough to go 
 around and ask her if she was ready to go. 
 She was, so I got her mule and led him up to 
 the upping-block and she got on, .and then I 
 got mine, and for home we started, all eyes 
 turned on us. Two or three days afterward 
 I counted up the words I used on that journey, 
 and I could count nine ! Gee whizz ! a regular 
 walking-dictionary, riding a mule. I had got 
 along much better than I anticipated, but just 
 6 
 
66 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 as we got to the top of the hill and I looked 
 over and saw her home and thought of meet- 
 ing my prospective father-in-law my heart 
 sank to my heels. In due time we arrived, 
 and again I had presence of mind enough to 
 help her down and hitch her mule and then 
 mine, and then I wabbled up the little narrow 
 walk like a drunken man. As luck would 
 have it, the old man was not on the front 
 porch. After I was duly seated in the little 
 parlor she excused herself and said she would 
 have to help get dinner ready. Though I feel 
 like a criminal when I say it, I was consider- 
 ably relieved when she left — I breathed 
 easier. 
 
 The old clock said it was half an hour 
 before dinner was ready, but I would not have 
 cared if it had been a week. I did hate to face 
 the old folks at home. It makes me feel 
 foolish even now to think of what my feelings 
 then were. Dinner was announced, and I 
 went blundering in like a blind elephant, but 
 managed to get to the table without knocking 
 over any chairs or the table, but it was a hard 
 job. It was a boiling-hot summer day and I 
 had on my old heavy winter coat, and some 
 other things, and it was not long in that little 
 dining-room until great streams of sweat were 
 rolling down my face; but otherwise I was 
 getting along fairly well, thank you. When I 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 67 
 
 got to the biscuits, though, I hit trouble. 
 They were little tiny things about the size of 
 a dollar, though that is not what worried me. 
 They were placed just beyond my reach, and 
 every two seconds I had to say "Thanky fer 
 biscuit," and every time I said it great creeks 
 of sweat would roll down my face like rain 
 running down the side of a house. I knew my 
 paper collar could not stand that racket much 
 longer, so about the fourteenth biscuit the 
 collar came in two, and one piece fell on one 
 side of me and the other piece on the other 
 side. I laid my, knife and fork down, 
 swallowed my last little biscuit, eased up, slid 
 out of that tormenting dining-room like a 
 racer-snake, out at the front door, down the 
 little walk in a turkey trot, reached my mule, 
 and went thundering down the road 
 thoroughly vanquished. 
 
 The richest period of a country fellow's life 
 is the days of his courtship. There is nothing 
 else like it. The fellow who goes through life 
 without the experiences a country fellow has 
 during the days of his courtship misses the 
 sweetest part of his existence. I have always 
 been sorry for city fellows who were denied 
 this luxury. They never have anything like 
 this, for they are not green enough, or may 
 be they are too green. But if you want to 
 kill a country fellow off, just let some little 
 
68 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 trifling nothing happen to him and he is as 
 dead as a mackerel. 
 
 The next several pages will be devoted to 
 some of the events which happened to yours 
 truly while he was traveling the country road 
 to matrimony. The only apology I make for 
 setting these things down here is the fact that 
 they contain things of great historical value 
 and should be perpetuated for the betterment 
 of coming generations. 
 
 Once I was going to see the prettiest thing 
 that ever wore dresses, and the way I loved 
 her was a shame — on the bad boy. I had 
 been going to see her for six months, and not 
 a thing had happened to mar my good luck, 
 but all the time, though, I could feel some 
 unforeseen disaster just ahead of me. One 
 hot summer day I went home with her for 
 dinner, and I had not more than hit the door- 
 step until I felt it in my bones that my Water- 
 loo was at hand. All went well until we went 
 to dinner. They had cabbage. My plate was 
 helped to an immense pile, but when I began 
 to saw my knife across the stuff it would not 
 cut. I sawed and sawed, but I made no head- 
 way. The knife was either dull or the cab- 
 bage raw. I knew I could not do much more 
 sawing without attracting attention. I soon 
 found out what I was sawing on. I was saw- 
 ing on the dishrag. Somehow it had become 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 69 
 
 mixed up in the cabbage and I was lucky 
 enough to get it, with a little cabbage piled on 
 top of it, but I can't say that it helped the 
 flavor one bit. I began to pick off what little 
 cabbage there was on my rag and to nibble at 
 it. My brain was working overtime as to 
 how I was going to get rid of the thing with- 
 out being caught. I could rake my plate off 
 into my lap and slip the thing into my pocket, 
 but that would ruin my Sunday clothes. That 
 would be too expensive. I could not afford 
 to do such a thing. I would wallow the thing 
 around as long as possible and put off the evil 
 hour of being caught until the last moment. 
 I could now tell what relic the dishrag had 
 come from. It was a part of my intended 
 daddy-in-law's shirt, an old hickory fellow, 
 and you can perhaps guess what part the thing 
 came from when I say it had a "swallow- 
 fork" in it. Swallow-forks did not grow in 
 the collar. Little by little my cabbage dis- 
 appeared, and there lay old hickory piled up 
 in my plate in plain view of everybody, but he 
 had not yet been seen. Don't tell me that I 
 was on pins. 
 
 I knew every moment I would be caught. 
 I suffered in the flesh and inwardly said 
 things. I cussed the fates and their families. 
 I could see my finish, for I knew full well that 
 I never would go there again after that 
 
70 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 scrape. It was all I could do to keep from 
 jumping up and upsetting the table, at least 
 there was nothing except my inherent weak- 
 ness, for my knees seemed to have become soft 
 rubber. Would that awful moment of 
 suspense never end ? I began to pray, a thing 
 which I had not been guilty of for many 
 moons. I prayed for all of them to faint so 
 that I could get away with the dishrag. I 
 prayed for them all to get sick at once and be 
 forced to leave the table. I prayed for some 
 one to fall dead out in the yard. I prayed for 
 a stray cyclone to come along and blow the 
 house away. I prayed for anything and 
 everything to happen which I thought would 
 annihilate that infamous dishrag, but not a 
 prayer was answered. 
 
 Perhaps I prayed as did the old woman who 
 prayed for the mountain to be removed — she 
 didn't believe it would be done ; and I didn't, 
 but that didn't keep me from praying. I kept 
 on praying until I began to feel as though I 
 must be some sort of a preacher, or at least I 
 felt mighty pious. I had become so much 
 absorbed in my prayers that I forgot all about 
 my dishrag and the fact that I was sitting at 
 my sweetheart's table. I don't know whether 
 they noticed my peculiar actions or not, but I 
 know I was awakened by the expected happen- 
 ing. My intended brother-in-law — a little 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 7* 
 
 red-headed, speckled-faced brat ten years old 
 — looked over and saw the dishrag and sang 
 out, "Maw, jest look in that feller's plate at 
 paw's old shirt!" What else he said was lost 
 on the desert air, for there was a scatterment 
 in every direction. I never more was guilty 
 of going there. And I would tell you that my 
 sweetheart died of a broken heart, but if I 
 told you that I would tell you a baldheaded 
 lie, and that I don't propose to do, especially 
 after engaging in so many prayers. Amen. 
 
 One of the funniest things you can imagine 
 is two country fellows trying to go to see the 
 same girl. Oh, they are hot rivals. They 
 cuss each other manfully — under their 
 breath. Nobody ever hears the cussing except 
 the cussor. I suppose that is what he ought 
 to be called. As neither of them ever does 
 any talking when he is with his sweetheart, 
 they never find out which one is getting along 
 the best; that is, until the girl becomes im- 
 patient and makes one or the other propose 
 and then marries him. The jig is then up 
 with the other fellow. I most always got the 
 jig. It is mighty poor property, but it is 
 better than nothing at all. 
 
 One summer a protracted meeting was 
 going on in a community five or six miles from 
 home and I had been going. The weather 
 was exceedingly hot, there had been no rain 
 
72 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 for weeks, and the dust was nearly shoe- 
 mouth deep. There was a girl in that com- 
 munity who was always at preaching, and I 
 did my best to go home with her, but there 
 was an abominable ape who seemed to have a 
 monopoly of her time, at any rate he was al- 
 ways ahead of me when I wanted to go. On 
 Saturday night the meeting closed, and next 
 day there was to be baptizing down at the 
 creek not far from the church. Next day folks 
 began to assemble at the water, and among 
 the number I was there and she was there and 
 her sweetheart was there. It so happened 
 that he was on one side of the creek and our 
 sweetheart and myself were on the other side. 
 As soon as I saw her I slipped around and 
 asked her if I could go home with her after 
 services, and she said I could. I could see the 
 enemy on the other side, and he saw me when 
 I made my engagement, and he saw he was 
 beat. I could almost hear him grinding his 
 teeth in his rage, but that was of little conse- 
 quence to me. 
 
 When the baptizing was over we started 
 for her home, only a short distance away. 
 She was a-foot and I failed to get any one to 
 ride my mule, so I had to lead him. We had 
 not gone very far until my enemy came up and 
 proposed to ride my mule and leave him at my 
 sweetheart's. I rather mistrusted the fellow, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 73 
 
 still after his proposal to do me a favor I 
 could not well afford to refuse in her presence, 
 so I handed over the bridle to him. When 
 he mounted him he went back to the baptizing 
 place where there were a lot of stragglers. I 
 thought no more of him, however, in my 
 struggle to keep up a conversation. We had 
 gone only a few hundred yards until he came 
 thundering up the road in full speed on my 
 mule. I made a dash to get out of his way. 
 I was looking toward the fool and was paying 
 no attention to what I was doing or where I 
 was going, and hung my foot under a root 
 and fell full length in dust six inches deep, 
 which enveloped me in a cloud of glory ; but 
 that fool fellow went thundering up the road 
 without halting. I had my eyes, nose, mouth 
 and ears full of dust, and my clothes were 
 literally covered. I was a sight to behold, but 
 as luck would have it no one was in sight. I 
 brushed as much of the dust off of me as I 
 could, and then stepped over to the creek ten 
 steps from the road to wash my face. I 
 walked out on a log which projected into the 
 water. It was very slippery. I stooped over 
 and began to wash the dust out of my eyes, 
 nose, mouth and ears ; but the log being slick 
 and me nervous it was a very easy matter for 
 me to lose my balance and pitch head-first into 
 that creek like a turtle. After wallowing 
 
74 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 around in there for ten minutes I crawled out 
 on the bank, the most wretched creature who 
 ever fell into a creek. That goose of a com- 
 panion — I won't say sweetheart any more — 
 was standing on the bank laughing fit to kill, 
 and saying, "Amen, amen," and I would have 
 given half of my prospects of eternal joy to 
 have had the courage to take her by the nape 
 of the neck and heels and pitch her head-first 
 into that creek; but I didn't have the grit to 
 do so, it was all in the creek. I had washed 
 all the dust out of my eyes, nose, and mouth 
 just the same. 
 
 Of course, I could not afford to go home 
 with her, and that fool was away on my mule. 
 I felt bad, I did. My sweetheart — oh, I beg 
 pardon, I said I would not say that any more, 
 but I've lied, so let her go — was kind enough 
 to say she would go home and send my 
 mule down to me ; and she was so thoughtful 
 as to kindly advise me to get a buggy next 
 time I came to see her, but I never went. 
 When she had gone I backed out into the 
 bushes to keep curious eyes off me, and to 
 cuss. 
 
 She had not been gone fifteen minutes be- 
 fore that infamous baboon came down the 
 road whooping and yelling like a wild Indian, 
 and when he saw my battered and dilapidated 
 condition he fell down on the ground and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 75 
 
 began rolling with laughter. Such conduct 
 was offensive to me, and I said so. As quick 
 as thought I seized both his heels, and in less 
 than half the time it takes to tell it I had him 
 in the middle of the creek mauling thunder 
 out of him. I would souse him under and he 
 would "blub, blub, blub," and when I would 
 give him a brief moment to catch his breath 
 he would snort like a mustang pony. When 
 I thought I had nearly drowned him and he 
 looked about as well as I did, he bawled for 
 mercy. I let him up, mounted my mule, and 
 pulled for regions beyond the river. The only 
 satisfaction I had was the fact that while I 
 could not be with my sweetheart — doggone 
 the luck, I've lied again ! 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 I never was much of a talker, and when I 
 went a-courting I spent the greater part of my 
 time in silence looking out of the window, if 
 there happened to be one handy. Words 
 were very far between. They needed replant- 
 ing very badly, in fact I often thought I could 
 get a better stand by plowing them up and 
 planting over, but just as I got ready to do so 
 a dry spell would come along and upset the 
 plan. I have seen other boys sit and talk for 
 hours at a time and never run out of anything 
 to say, and how I did envy them; but that 
 never brought on any more talk. Occasion- 
 ally I would dig up a thought, and then it 
 would take anywhere from one to four hours 
 to find words in which to express it, and then 
 another hour or two to get up steam enough 
 to say it, and by that time it was history. 
 
 This was always my stumbling-block, and 
 then added to this my extreme bashfulness 
 and you have a combination which would 
 have killed any one with less greenness than I 
 had. The length of time it would take me to 
 say anything and my bashfulness in saying it 
 always caused me to stay late ; besides, when 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 77 
 
 the time would come for me to leave I just 
 simply didn't know how to go about it. I 
 always felt as though I ought to say some- 
 thing before leaving, and not just get up like 
 a dog and get my hat and sneak off without 
 saying a word. I generally managed to say 
 something, though the good Lord only knows 
 what it was. 
 
 Once upon a time, as all good stories begin, 
 I was going to see a girl, and at first the 
 silence was so dense that when I left I would 
 have all my pockets full of it. It could be 
 balled up like molasses candy. At first I 
 would get away when the sun was about an 
 hour and three quarters high. If I had stayed 
 longer than that I believe the oppressive 
 silence would have crushed my cymlin head, 
 but at each additional sitting I would lop off 
 fifteen minutes of this hour and three 
 quarters, and in the course of two months it 
 was sun down when I got away, though I had 
 not murdered any more of the King's English 
 than I did on the first afternoon, even if I had 
 succeeded in murdering some of that oppres- 
 sive feeling. After a while it was dark before 
 I got away. I should have known that by 
 staying so late I was liable to stir up a hornet's 
 nest with the old folks, for such is generally 
 the case, unless a fellow is mighty good 
 material for a son-in-law, which I wasn't. 
 
78 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Generally the girl has something to do about 
 night, and they do not like a fellow to be 
 around in the way, and unless his suit is looked 
 upon with especial favor they rarely hesitate 
 to let the fellow know that he ought to go 
 home. They drop their hints in such a way 
 that he is sure to hear them, and if he is not 
 blind as a bat he will know what they mean, 
 and if he wants to save himself a lot of 
 trouble he had better move at the first signal 
 of distress. If he will do this he wins favor, 
 for he shows to his prospective father and 
 mother-in-law that he is an obedient child, and 
 there is nothing which pleases the old folks 
 more than to know that their daughter is go- 
 ing to marry a fellow who can be made to 
 walk a chalk-line. 
 
 One chilly afternoon in November I saw 
 the sun gently slide down the western sky, but 
 I was still at my post. I had something to 
 say, but the words just simply wouldn't come 
 to the relief of my thoughts. For the last two 
 or three Sundays I thought I had heard 
 grumblings about my staying so late, still I 
 was not sure. I was in doubt, and when I am 
 in doubt I always take the benefit of the doubt, 
 and sometimes — which is all the time — I take 
 it when there is no doubt. On this Sunday 
 afternoon, when the shades of night had crept 
 in at the windows, I could hear the old gentle- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 79 
 
 man thundering and blundering around in the 
 other room, and I was pretty sure I heard him 
 say, "Wonder ef that goose ain't never gwine 
 home !" That did not sound very encouraging, 
 but I had not said what I wanted to say, what- 
 ever important thing it was, so I kept my seat. 
 Ten minutes passed and the old fellow was 
 still thundering and blundering around in the 
 other room, but his pent-up feelings must be 
 turned loose, so he stepped out into the hall 
 near the door leading to the room where I was 
 courting and shouted, "Supper time!" He 
 said it in tones which told me that he did not 
 intend me to come in and sup with him, and 
 without waiting for a second invitation I 
 reached for my hat and slipped to the door; 
 but the old fellow was there, so I decided to 
 go the other way. I thought I would slip out 
 the back way, climb over the fence, go home, 
 and perhaps stay; but just as I reached the 
 edge of the hall the old man cleared his 
 throat, "ahem !" right at my heels. I would 
 rather have been thunderstruck. I jumped 
 out of the hall, but instead of landing on the 
 ground I landed in a barrel of water and got 
 wet. I made so much racket getting in and 
 out of this barrel I woke up the old bulldog 
 under the house, and here he came after me 
 as though he thought I was a rabbit, and I 
 pulled for the fence in a hurry. Just as I 
 
80 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 reached the fence, "rip" went my coat-tail. 
 The bulldog had it. In my hurry to get over 
 the fence I stuck a sharp paling in my 
 trousers, and "rip" again, and they were torn 
 from the arctic circle to the waistband ; but I 
 hit the ground a-running. I made so much 
 noise getting over the fence my mule broke 
 loose, and both of us went across the field like 
 a thousand ghosts were at our heels, but I 
 beat him to the gate on the other side. No 
 one could have played marbles on my coat-tail 
 while I was going across that field, for the 
 bulldog was amusing himself with it under 
 the house. My suit was immediately dis- 
 missed, and soon thereafter I instituted pro- 
 ceedings in another court, and as usual I had 
 fully as good luck. 
 
 When a fellow is desperately in love it is 
 strange what a fool he can act. He is the big- 
 gest dunce in the world. All that is needed for 
 him to break his neck or do some other foolish 
 act is for his sweetheart to say so. He is very 
 much like a jumping-jack in her hands. How- 
 ever, after the matrimonial knot has been tied 
 and the twain are one flesh he ceases to be so 
 foolish. He has become awful wise. There 
 is no danger of him breaking his neck when 
 the other half of him asks him to ; not because 
 he does not want to mind, but because he 
 doesn' want some other fellow to get into the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 8 1 
 
 same trouble he is in. Gentle reader, I think 
 it expedient that I change the subject, so here 
 goes. 
 
 One Monday morning in the long, ago, pa 
 sent me way down the country after a very 
 fine pup, and I had to go right by my sweet- 
 heart's house, which was not at all objection- 
 able. She was a new one, and it was my 
 greatest desire to see her on my way down. I 
 strained my eyes to get a glimpse of the fairy 
 beauty, but was awarded with only a view of 
 the good prospective mother-in-law, and I 
 rode on with a heavy heart, though I deter- 
 mined to see her on my way back if she was at 
 home, even though I had to make the old 
 mule buck me off. I would take that much 
 risk even if it resulted in the death of the pup. 
 I did see her on my way home, though I 
 wished afterward I hadn't. 
 
 On my return, as I neared the house, my 
 heart was, flopping up and down like a churn- 
 dasher. Just as I reached the top of the hill, 
 lo and behold, there she and her Bub were, 
 chasing an old rooster. Next day they were 
 going to have a log-rolling and old Shanghai 
 was going to pay the penalty for being a 
 rooster, provided they caught him, which 
 seemed exceedingly unlikely. She saw me 
 coming with pup in a tow sack under my arm, 
 6 
 
82 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and she sang out, "Come here and help us 
 ketch this old rooster !" and I went. Pup was 
 piled up in the corner of the fence, and I 
 caught a long breath, reached up for my hat, 
 and darted after that rooster like a streak of 
 lightning. Down the hill he went, and me 
 and Bub after him in close pursuit. Round 
 and round we had it, up hill and down hill, 
 through briers and bushes, over fences and 
 logs we carried him, Bub and I. I saw he had 
 his tongue out and he would soon be my meat, 
 provided no catastrophe happened, which was 
 very likely. My intended revised angel was 
 standing on the hill looking on at our spec- 
 tacular race, when the blamed old rooster lit 
 out down the steepest hill in that county; but 
 fear was not mine, so down that hill after him 
 I went at break-neck speed. Just at the foot 
 of the hill was an old rotten fence against 
 which mud and settlings had drifted, and the 
 old rooster tried to get over it, but his wind 
 was gone. I rushed down on him to hem him 
 in the fence corner, but when within ten feet 
 of him I hung my foot under a root, and head 
 foremost I went as though shot out of a 
 cannon, and dived into that fence corner with 
 considerable momentum. My head struck 
 solid against that rooster, and the terrific 
 speed at which I was sailing knocked him clear 
 through the fence and I followed suit. He 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 83 
 
 was as dead as Hector and I was speechless, 
 but Bub and my honey weren't. What a sight 
 to behold I was when I pulled myself out of 
 that fence. I delivered the rooster up for the 
 feast on the morrow. When I got home I 
 was greeted with the question, "How come 
 that mud on you?" To which I truthlessly 
 replied, "That blamed old mule throwed me." 
 I lied and then got none of the rooster. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Unless a fellow is an expert he loses out 
 with all the girls in his community before he 
 makes the landing. Some fool something 
 happens which renders it impossible for him 
 to go back, or else she finds out what a fool he 
 is and dismisses his suit, per curiam, as we 
 lawyers say. Then it is up to him to go else- 
 where and glean in other fields. I was so 
 lucky as to get in this fix, so I explored neigh- 
 boring communities. 
 
 I found me a sweetheart way down on 
 Hatchie, and every other Sunday I would 
 saddle old Gray and make my way over. Not 
 being much of a talker, most of the time was 
 spent in silence, yawns, and such like amuse- 
 ments. At first it seemed that the old man 
 looked upon my suit with favor. My reputa- 
 tion had not penetrated that section perhaps, 
 but one Sunday when I got there I saw the 
 old fellow's face at the window and it was 
 clothed in thunder with a few streaks of 
 lightning mixed in, for effect, and it looked as 
 though it would be unsafe to venture. The 
 storm was liable to break at any moment, but 
 it was too late to back down. I found that 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 85 
 
 bonny lassie way up in the third heaven of 
 bliss, her face looking like a big red rose. 
 Same old proceedings were had, however — 
 silence, yawns, mosquito songs, with now and 
 then a giggle. What caused it I never found 
 out. I certainly saw no occasion for such 
 levity as that. 
 
 Way long toward sun-down I could hear 
 the muttering thunder rolling over behind the 
 thicket, and I began to think it expedient that 
 I go away ; but before I could say au revoir, or 
 anything else, the old coon yelled out, "Sallie, 
 why in thunder and blazes don't that ape 
 leave here?" Golly, Moses! I snatched my 
 hat and ran for the door, but the old man was 
 coming around the corner meeting me, so I 
 decided to go the other way, and I went in a 
 hurry, let me tell you. On the other side I 
 ran into a great big yellow dog, which pitched 
 at me as though he thought I was a piece 
 of buttered bread. I darted back as though 
 I had rubber in my heels. I was between 
 the old man and that infuriated dog, and 
 the house was on my left and a ten-foot 
 fence on my right. I was in a pen. 
 I could see my way over in the promised 
 land where the. angels stand, but I was 
 not ready to join that happy band. I 
 bounced back into the house almost in the face 
 of the old man, with that infernal dog hang- 
 
86 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ing to the seat of my — coat. My sweetheart 
 broke a chair over the old dog's back, I ran 
 over the old man and knocked him down, 
 bucked out through the hall where the good 
 mother had come out to see what the trouble 
 was, and in my blind rage my head struck the 
 pit of her stomach and she made the most 
 beautiful interrogation point I ever saw, in 
 the air, and hit the ground out in the yard 
 flat on her back. I kicked the gate down, ran 
 over an old hen and chickens, safely reached 
 my mule, and just as I turned his head home- 
 ward I saw the good woman coming with 
 fire and brimstone-speed armed with the 
 broom. The old man was limping along with 
 a paling, and the old dog dragging along be- 
 hind, while the sweetest thing that ever wore 
 dresses was standing on the porch sweetly 
 singing, "Run, Gray, run" — and Gray did run 
 and no mistake about it. As my pursuers 
 turned to go back after a fruitless chase of a 
 hundred yards I heard the prospective mother- 
 in-law say, "I'll bet I never find my teeth." 
 Well, the Lord knows I didn't have them. 
 And I have not been on Hatchie since, either. 
 
 When two fellows, who are good and 
 green, become rivals for the hand and heart of 
 some fair Eve you may look for interesting 
 times. The first thing they do is to get mad. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 87 
 
 Each seems to think that by getting mad he 
 can head off the other fellow: Both soon find 
 out their mistake. It is an easy matter to head 
 a fellow off and keep him from going to see 
 a girl, provided the girl will help in the head- 
 ing off, otherwise there is some difficulty. 
 Though the rivals get very mad they do not 
 generally do each other much damage. I had 
 a bad case on hand once, and for a whole 
 night I thought I was either going to shed my 
 rival's blood or he would shed mine. 
 
 Once upon a time I was going to see a girl 
 somewhere this side of Halifax, and I was as 
 usual heels over head in love with her. There 
 was at the same time another fellow going to 
 see her who seemed to be in just as bad a fix 
 as I was. Our courtship got very hot and we 
 got very mad. It seemed that the girl cared 
 just about as little for one of us as she did the 
 other. In her estimation we seemed to be 
 of about equal weight, but that didn't keep us 
 from getting fighting mad at each other. 
 Matters went from bad to worse, and a fight 
 was imminent and liable to occur at any time 
 or place. 
 
 One day the climax was reached. It was 
 at preaching one Sunday. She was there and 
 I intended to go home with her — she being 
 willing — and he intended to go, but neither of 
 us had an engagement. As soon as services 
 
88 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 were over both of us made for her, but as he 
 stuttered I got my question out first and she 
 said I was entitled to the honor of going. He 
 started off, muttering something very hot, and 
 I was so imprudent as to say. loud enough for 
 him to hear it that if he wanted to run a court- 
 ing race he had better learn to talk or hire 
 some one to do it for him, or make signs. 
 The storm came near breaking there, but he 
 moped off. 
 
 As usual I had a huge time, but that even- 
 ing just about dusk, as I was going home 
 thinking of how much progress I had made, 
 lo and behold ! that fellow just rose up in the 
 road in front of me as if by magic. I thought 
 we would surely fight it out right then and 
 there unless I could manage to get by him 
 and run off, but he blocked the road and I 
 couldn't pass. I would do all in my power to 
 keep from fighting, but if I had it to do I 
 would do my share of it. He said he was go- 
 ing to give me a fair chance, and then told me 
 what he was up to. He said he had been in- 
 sulted and that nothing would satisfy him but 
 a duel; we must fight it out and with shot- 
 guns at twenty steps apart. I thought the 
 easiest way to get away from there was to 
 agree to his terms at once, so it was agreed 
 that next morning at sun-up we would meet 
 on a certain hill midway between our homes 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 89 
 
 and fight it out. I had no more intention of 
 being there than I did of being in Liverpool 
 next morning; but just as I started to ride off 
 he says, "Now, look here, if you fail to meet 
 me there I will shoot you down the very next 
 time I see you, no matter where !" He said 
 it in tones which convinced me that he meant 
 what he said. I debated what to do all night 
 long. If I failed to meet him he might at 
 least try to carry out his threats, and at a 
 time when I was not prepared for him ; but if 
 I should go — well, there was a good chance 
 to get shot, but as I was pretty handy with a 
 shotgun it might be that I would get my man. 
 Then it occurred to me what I would do with 
 the fellow if I happened to kill him. I 
 settled that little point by saying that I would 
 let the buzzards pick his bones. 
 
 Before day next morning I had fully 
 decided that the only thing to be done was to 
 meet my enemy on the field of honor and 
 settle the matter once for all. On my way I 
 had several kinds of curious feelings. When 
 I had gone about half the distance to the 
 meeting-place it occurred to me that the fellow 
 might shoot me from ambush. This is a 
 thing I had not thought of. It failed to help 
 my feelings in the least. It was an awful 
 thing to feel that way, but there was no help 
 for it. If he attempted to shoot me from 
 
90 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ambush all I could do would be to trust to his 
 poor marksmanship to miss me, other- 
 w i se — Well, before the appointed hour I 
 was on the spot ready for the bloody work. 
 He didn't shoot me from ambush. I learned 
 afterward there was no danger. He soon 
 arrived. We had no seconds, and as both 
 seemed to want to be fair it was agreed that 
 we would turn our backs to each other and 
 walk ten steps, counting the steps out loud, 
 and when the word "ten" was spoken to wheel 
 around and fire. 
 
 We backed up to each other and I could 
 distinctly hear his teeth chattering — I can't 
 remember what mine were doing. We 
 started to count off our ten paces. When he 
 had counted six I was so curious that I had to 
 look back to see what the fellow was doing, 
 and just as I looked back I stumped my toe 
 and fell down. The fellow thought I had 
 wheeled around to fire, and he lit out down 
 the hill at break-neck speed, yelling, "Don't 
 shoot, don't shoot ! For the Lord's sake don't 
 shoot!" and I didn't. Just then I saw a 
 fellow coming down a path, and I ran down 
 the other side of the hill, and after running 
 three hundred yards I bucked right into my 
 enemy, and we came face to face. The first 
 thing he said was, "You dad-blamed fool, I 
 thought you was going to shoot me in the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 9 1 
 
 back!" and I said, "So I would if I had not 
 been running down the other side like thunder. 
 But what's the matter with your face?" "I 
 run agin' a saplin' and skinned it," the poor 
 fellow growled. 
 
 I can feel the funny sensation now which 
 I felt as I backed up to that fellow to count off 
 the ten paces ; but I have always been morally 
 sure that neither of us would have been 
 damaged any if we had fired at each other. 
 
 The happiest season of the year for a 
 country fellow is when all the crops have been 
 gathered and wood enough cut and hauled to 
 keep two roaring log-fires going all winter. In 
 my boyhood days, at this season, the old-time 
 country dance was in the zenith of its glory. 
 All the young people would meet at some 
 neighbor's house and dance until the gray 
 dawn would drive them home in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 I was always a little, trifling, good-for-noth- 
 ing sort of lost son of Adam, and few of the 
 girls would dance with me, and none of them 
 would if they could get another partner. On 
 such occasions I suffered in the flesh and in- 
 wardly swore. There was one girl in my 
 community who was always at the dance, and 
 it was the height of my ambition to dance with 
 her, but there was a great long-legged, bandy- 
 
92 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 shanked baboon who was always ahead of me 
 when I asked. When I would ask her to 
 dance with me and she would tell me she had 
 a partner I would boil over; but I was too 
 little to do anything else except boil, but even 
 that did me some good. 
 
 One night things changed considerably. It 
 was a cold, freezing Christmas night. One 
 set had been danced and the object of my 
 affection was sitting near the fireplace. I 
 slipped around as though I was going to steal 
 something, and asked her if she would dance 
 the next set with me ; but before she had time 
 to answer me, that abominable ape poked his 
 nose in and asked for the dance and of course 
 she gave it to him. There were a lot of folks 
 sitting around near and they saw the jolt I 
 got, and they laughed and I boiled over some 
 more. I vowed that I would get even with 
 him before that set ended. What I would do 
 I had no more idea than the man in the moon, 
 but I knew I was going to do something, for 
 my blood was in rebellion. 
 
 The room was small and the sets large, so 
 the dancers, in going the circle, had to go very 
 near the fireplace. My enemy was a great 
 long-legged rooster, and there was about 
 eight inches between the tops of his shoes and 
 his pants, and in dragging around in the dance 
 his socks flopped down over his shoe-tops and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 93 
 
 left about four inches of his legs bare. I was 
 near the fireplace and my enemy came 
 prancing up with my sweetheart, and when he 
 saw my sullen demeanor a great big grin 
 spread over his evil face ; but just as he turned 
 to leave the fireplace I dipped up a shovel of 
 hot ashes and poured them into his gaping 
 sock. He slapped his hands down to his 
 roasting shanks and then shot up into the air, 
 whooping and yelling like a wild Indian on 
 the war-path. The dancers flew east and west 
 out of the room, and I led the procession. He 
 came tumbling out into the yard, howling 
 with pain. All thought he was mad, and I 
 suppose he was. 
 
 When he got his shoe and sock off some one 
 asked, "Jawn, what's the matter, got a tack 
 in yer shoe?" , "Tack, the. Devil! It's a 
 shovel of fire," the poor fellow roared. He 
 sat there in the chilling north wind with great 
 drops of sweat rolling down his face as though 
 it was midsummer. I began to feel sorry for 
 the fellow, and then mean, low-down stinking 
 mean. I began to feel as though I ought to 
 get down there and lick his foot for my rash 
 act. The fellow had really done me no harm. 
 He was doing exactly what I was trying to do, 
 and I was so contemptibly little that I tried to 
 get revenge on him. It was the girl who had 
 played thunder with me. I should have 
 
94 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 shouldered my dignity and let her understand 
 that I didn't care a — Mississippi levee — 
 whether she danced with me or not. But no, 
 I was not big enough for that. I had to sulk 
 and pout. Think of it, a great big yearling, 
 sixteen-year-old country simpleton, out on the 
 courting path acting in any such infamous 
 manner. I should have been banished from 
 human society and never again allowed to 
 look upon Fair Woman. For the first time 
 in my life I hated myself for being such a 
 fool. But let me resume before I commit 
 some heinous offense. 
 
 Some one asked him who did it, and he 
 yelled, "That dad-blamed Bob Gresham done 
 it, that's who!" I thought it was high time 
 all dishonest folks were at home, so I pulled 
 for old Pete, mounted him, and fled from the 
 scene of roasted shanks. Next day I was in- 
 formed that there was no more dancing there 
 that night. I had better luck after this getting 
 partners, though I didn't have to resort to 
 such heroic measures any more. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 When a fellow sees some other smart Aleck 
 doing something which looks grand to his per- 
 verted imagination, and he wants to do the 
 same thing, he generally pays a good healthy 
 price for it. 
 
 When I was a long-haired country boy I 
 used to see people puffing an old strong pipe, 
 and it looked awful grand. A man looked im- 
 portant when a cloud of smoke was pouring 
 out of his mouth, so I decided that if I was 
 ever to amount to anything in this world or 
 the next it would be necessary for me to smoke 
 also. One night a fellow who smoked spent 
 the night with us, and after supper all were 
 sitting out on the porch and our visitor got out 
 his old clay pipe, loaded it with strong home- 
 grown tobacco and proceeded to puff. I never 
 had seen true greatness before. After he had 
 finished he laid his pipe on the floor in reach 
 of me, so I knew my time had come to begin 
 a life of greatness. When no one was looking, 
 the pipe was slipped into my pocket, and I 
 slipped out behind the house and down into 
 the orchard, and proceeded to puff. The old 
 thing was quite stout for a new stomach, but 
 
g6 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 I pulled it with a will. When I thought I had 
 enough to give me a pretty good send-off, I 
 slipped back and put the pipe where I got it, 
 and resumed my seat. I could feel myself 
 growing rapidly. Greatness was piling on me 
 at a rapid rate. Directly it all came at once. 
 My brain gave a spurt and a whizz, my head 
 flew around like a flying jenny, and there was 
 a great upheaval down in my lumbar regions, 
 and I pulled for the orchard again. 
 
 Up came my supper and the rest of the 
 contents of my stomach. I heaved and "ca- 
 vorted" good and strong, and felt that it 
 would be a great relief if I could but yield up 
 the ghost, but he wouldn't yield. Everything 
 in my stomach came up, and indeed that 
 would have come also had it not been so thor- 
 oughly dove-tailed to my diaphragm. When 
 the "fountain" had run dry and there was no 
 more, I managed to get back to the house and 
 sneak into bed without being observed, and 
 there I lay, the sickest mortal on earth, with 
 great drops of sweat popping out on me like 
 melted hail. I could feel my greatness peel- 
 ing off at a rapid rate. It left in companies, 
 battalions, brigades and platoons. It went 
 a great deal faster than it came. It was hard 
 to realize that I was diminishing so rapidly. 
 Every moment I expected to vanish as vapor, 
 and really I would not have cared very much, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 97 
 
 for all my bright prospects of attaining 
 true greatness were down in the orchard. All 
 that was left of me was that indescribable 
 feeling which all the imps of the lower 
 regions put on a fellow for being such a fool. 
 
 I began to ruminate, as soon as my rumi- 
 nator would work. What had I done? I 
 had done a whole lot, I felt pretty sure. I 
 had seen a fellow doing a thing which he 
 thought was smart, something which he 
 thought placed him way up above all earthly 
 beings who were not the same sort of fool he 
 was. I wanted to get in his class. I wanted 
 to do something which would make me great. 
 In doing that I made no mistake. Where I 
 made my mistake lay in the fact that I 
 adopted the wrong method of reaching my 
 goal. I thought I could imitate that fellow 
 and I would soon be as big as he was. I tried 
 to practice a fraud — either on him or myself 
 or the world, I really could not tell which; 
 but it was a fraud anyway. 
 
 That is just what thousands of people to- 
 day are trying to do — trying to do as other 
 people do. In a certain sense that may be all 
 right. If a person is doing good it is all 
 right for you to imitate that person in doing 
 the same thing, provided the motive which 
 prompts you to do it springs from your own 
 7 
 
98 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 heart. If doing a good deed springs from a 
 bad motive you will get no good out of doing 
 it, while the recipient of it may. Did you 
 ever see a politician imitate another politician 
 because he thought he could get into office by 
 so doing? That sort of politician does not 
 last long. Did you ever hear one preacher 
 try to imitate another? I have, and generally 
 he makes a mess of it. I saw a preacher try 
 to imitate Sam Jones, and the result was he 
 made everybody mad. He was not trying to 
 do what he was called to do, if he was called 
 to preach. He should have preached the 
 Gospel, but he didn't. I saw another 
 preacher get up and try to palm off one of Dr. 
 Talmage's sermons on a congregation, and he 
 had not gone one-tenth of the way through it 
 until nearly all in the congregation discovered 
 the deception. That preacher did a bad 
 day's work. A fellow may not be very much, 
 but the best thing any one can do is to be 
 himself and not a false somebody else. Being 
 true with self and others brings reward, being 
 false brings reproach. 
 
 One of the commonest ways we see people 
 trying to "put on," as we say, is a country 
 fellow visiting in a city, or a city fellow visit- 
 ing in the country. Both try to be something 
 which they are not, and both generally make 
 fools of themselves. They are talked about 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 99 
 
 when their backs are turned. A great deal 
 has been said and written about green coun- 
 try folks' actions in the cities, and no doubt a 
 great deal of it, perhaps all of it, is true, still 
 there is no more greenness exhibited by a 
 country fellow in a city than there is exhibited 
 by a city fellow in the country. A crowd of 
 country fellows were in a city one day, and 
 as is the custom they walked everywhere. 
 That night at the hotel they were getting 
 ready to go to bed, when one old fellow said, 
 "Well, boys, I've walked just five hundred 
 miles farther to-day than any of the balance 
 of you." Of course they all wanted to know 
 how that was, and he continued, "Why, 
 didn't you see me walk around every one of 
 those durn things in the streets made to ketch 
 country fellows?" — meaning the places into 
 which dust is swept. 
 
 Bill Arp tells of a city fellow who visited 
 him once, and one morning Bill started to the 
 potato patch and the city fellow wanted to go 
 for the potatoes, and Bill gave him a hoe and 
 basket and he went down to the patch and 
 wandered over it like a blind goose, and went 
 back to the house with an empty basket and 
 told Bill there was none on the vines. Poor 
 fool thought they grew on vines like peas. 
 But just look at this: The girl who ex- 
 pressed so much sympathy for the poor 
 
IOO SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 farmer because of his cold job in harvesting 
 his winter wheat, is equal in agricultural 
 knowledge to the one who expressed a desire 
 to see a field of tobacco plugging out! The 
 damsel who asked which one of the cows 
 gave the butter-milk is entitled to the whole 
 bakery. And think of the girl who, on her 
 return from a visit to the country, was asked 
 if she ever saw any one milk a cow, replied, 
 "Oh, yes, indeed I have. It tickled me nearly 
 to death to see uncle jerk two of the cow's 
 faucets at the same time." 
 
 Holy Moses, greenness enough to fatten 
 several herds of goats. If I had that much 
 greenness I would go out to the cow-pen every 
 morning and let the cows graze it off ! 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 To-day I am not feeling very well and am 
 not very much inclined to writing. It is hard 
 to get my wits together. They seem to be 
 scattered. Last night the old cow failed to 
 come home, and I started out to find her. I 
 found the pasture gate open, but I did not 
 believe she had come out, so I pulled for the 
 back of the pasture. It was nearly dark when 
 I started, and by the time I had found her it 
 was so dark I could hardly tell her from a 
 bucking mustang. When I found her I got 
 in behind her and we started for home. We 
 had no time to lose. For about four hun- 
 dred yards we had to go down a long sand 
 gully, and when we got into it it was as dark 
 as Egypt. I wore the toes off of my shoes 
 and the hide off of the old cow's heels tramp- 
 ing on them. We were going at a pretty 
 lively pace down that gully, and I could im- 
 agine "panthers" and bears were as close to 
 my heels as I was to the cow's. 
 
 We had gone about forty yards down that 
 gully, when, just over my head, the most 
 awful sound mortal man ever heard was 
 turned loose. It came from one of those in- 
 fernal screech-owls. Of course I knew what 
 
102 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 it was, but that didn't keep me from jumping 
 a yard high. The old cow thought I was 
 after her, and she started down that gully 
 with a rush. I laid hold of her tail with both 
 hands. She bucked and snorted, but I was 
 there by a good-sized majority. I didn't pro- 
 pose to be run off and left in any such in- 
 famous way. After going about a hundred 
 yards, and she refused to let up, I made a 
 jump and landed on her back. This almost 
 scared the life out of her, and down that gully 
 she went bellowing like a mad steam engine. 
 Early in the fray I lost my hat, and also lost 
 the desire to go back and look for it, even if 
 I had had time. Under limbs and brush and 
 through briers she went, raking great patches 
 of hide off of me, and now and then I would 
 hear something rip and a yard or two of my 
 shirt or pants would be left hanging on a 
 swinging limb. But that was nothing, so long 
 as I was able to keep my uncertain position. 
 On and on she went, with no let-up. I knew 
 just ahead of us was a barbed-wire fence and 
 a deep ravine just below, but as I could 
 neither get off nor stick on I had really very 
 little time to consider the horrors which 
 awaited me. I was in an awful dilemma, or 
 something. She landed into that wire fence 
 and her horns struck it first, and she turned 
 somersaults into that ravine below the fence. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 103 
 
 Down among snags, briers, bushes, baboons, 
 wild-cats, pollywogs, lightning bugs, and the 
 Lord only knows what else, we went clatter- 
 ing through, and at the one hundred and 
 forty-ninth revolution — I counted them— we 
 hit solid earth, and I knew no more until I 
 feebly opened my eyes this morning to find 
 that I was at home in bed. How I got there 
 has not yet been revealed to me. 
 
 The doctor came and inspected my wounds 
 and injuries. He has thus far discovered 
 only fourteen which he has pronounced fatal. 
 I don't mind the others. And now here I am 
 lying in a critical condition thinking how in 
 the world I escaped with no more than that — 
 at least I am lying, whether it is critical or 
 not. The cow has not come home yet and I 
 hope she never will. 
 
 P. S. — This afternoon at two o'clock I re- 
 ceived a cablegram from Hong Kong which 
 reads thus : 
 
 "Dear Sir: Your cow landed here at 8.40 
 this morning. She must have come through 
 the earth, for there is a hole just outside the 
 city about big enough for a cow to go through, 
 and it appears that the cow has come clear 
 through the earth. All China is stirred from 
 center to circumference over this extraordin- 
 ary event. We advise you to send for her at 
 
104 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 once, as international complications may 
 arise. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 "Ambassador to China." 
 
 To which I replied : 
 
 "Just throw her back into the hole and she 
 will come home." 
 
 I think she must have lodged in the center 
 of the earth, as she has not yet arrived. I 
 don't care if international complications do 
 arise, I am not going to any expense to get 
 that brute home. If China wants to go to 
 war about the matter she can go and welcome. 
 The old cow going through the earth has set- 
 tled a troublesome question of philosophy. 
 It has always been a debatable question 
 whether a stone would go through the earth 
 if there was a hole through it (the earth) 
 and the stone dropped in, or whether it would 
 go to the center and stop there. That ques- 
 tion is now settled, provided the object is a 
 cow. It will go through. It may be that the 
 cow went through on the trip down, but when 
 she started back she may have lodged in the 
 center. In that case both sides would be true. 
 But I am not going down there to find out. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 When I moved to town some months ago 
 I was told that it was quite fashionable for 
 town-folk to own a hog, to which could be 
 fed scraps and things which would otherwise 
 be thrown away, so there would be nothing 
 wasted. I began to look around for a suit- 
 able candidate for election to the office of 
 scrap-eater, but I must have been most too 
 fastidious or something. I failed to find just 
 the kind of brute I was looking for. Indeed, 
 I found plenty, but none of them suited me, 
 as some were not the right size, either too 
 large or too small, and some I did not like 
 their color, and some were too poor to suit 
 me, and other good and sufficient reasons, 
 until, lo and behold! all that were for sale 
 had been disposed of, and during the three 
 or four days in which I had been hog-hunting 
 I imagined that we had thrown away enough 
 stuff to fatten a whole herd. So I made one 
 more determined effort to find one that would 
 suit me, but search as I did he was not to be 
 found. 
 
 One day, however, I came across a fellow 
 who had one for sale, and he said he would 
 
106 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 suit me exactly, and he was cheap for cash. 
 After a careful examination of his good and 
 bad qualities and his pedigree, I decided to 
 take him, though I did not like him any too 
 well. He was about three feet high and 
 something like four and a half feet long, and 
 would have been five but for the fact that in 
 some calamity he had lost all of his "cue" ex- 
 cept a stub two inches long; his snout 
 was nearly a foot long, and all in all he 
 was not very beautiful; but the owner in- 
 sisted that when he was fed up some he would 
 fill out, and in a few weeks he would look as 
 respectable and dignified as any hog in the 
 whole country ; that he was from good lineal 
 descendants, and not being very well up on 
 hogology — no extra charge for this new 
 word — and not good in a hog argument, he at 
 last prevailed on me to take him. He got 
 my two dollars and I departed with my hog. 
 He was not unwilling to go, for evidently he 
 was not satisfied with his boarding-place and 
 desired a new one. 
 
 We got along with him middling well until 
 we decided to add some poultry to our other 
 possessions, and then trouble came thick and 
 fast. One day our old crippled hen got hung 
 in the fence, and old razor-back decided she 
 needed assistance, and, being very polite, he 
 proceeded with his snout to assist her, and be- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 107 
 
 fore he could be beaten off old lamey had lost 
 most of her tail-feathers. Evidently razor- 
 back had had very little experience in giving 
 such assistance, or he didn't care. I proceeded 
 to chastise him with a fence-rail, but he con- 
 vinced me that he merely wanted the feathers 
 to lengthen his own posterior extremity, which 
 had in times past been so much abbreviated. 
 So I let him off with a few "pounds," with a 
 promise that he would not be guilty of such 
 reprehensible conduct again. He failed to 
 keep his promise, for one day soon after this 
 he caught another and tried to take the old 
 Shanghai rooster down, and would have suc- 
 ceeded in doing so had shangy not received 
 outside help. It was very evident that old 
 razor-back's intentions were bad. 
 
 Well, something would have to be done 
 with him for such conduct as that, so I went 
 down under the shed and built a pen which 
 would have kept a cricket out if it had been 
 on the outside, or in if it had been on the 
 inside, and proceeded to nail razor-back up 
 in it. I felt sure that he would always have 
 a dry place to sleep in, as the ground was 
 as hard as a flint. All went well for a few 
 days, at least so long as he got enough to 
 eat, which was not often, because there was 
 not so much waste as we had expected there 
 would be ; and then, too, old razor-back was 
 
108 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 possessed with a gastronomical apparatus 
 which was fearful to contemplate. 
 
 One morning I went down to give him his 
 usual pittance, but his morning greeting was 
 not to be heard. I had never gone down 
 without being cordially received, but this 
 morning everything was as still as a morgue. 
 I knew not what to expect, but I did know 
 something fearful had happened to him. He 
 certainly must have fainted, or had suffered 
 a stroke of paralysis or something like that. 
 He had not escaped, for there was no hole 
 through which he could have done so, and 
 after listening for some sound from him, and 
 hearing none, off came a plank ; but no razor- 
 back was in there, at least I heard none. Off 
 came another, and another, until the whole 
 top was off, and still he could not be seen. 
 Prints could be found where he had evidently 
 been trying to root out, but the ground was 
 so hard he made no headway. 
 
 Here was something which puzzled me be- 
 yond measure. He had not torn out of the 
 pen, nor had he succeeded in rooting out un- 
 der it. The mystery deepened. I be- 
 gan to think I was having a dream which was 
 lying to me. I would get down on the ground, 
 and stamp around and pinch myself and look 
 at the sun, and do many other foolish things 
 to convince myself that I was wide awake. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY IO9 
 
 Of course I was awake, but how in the thun- 
 der did that hog get out of there without a 
 hole somewhere. I felt foolish. I must have 
 lost my senses. The thing bothered me a 
 whole lot. I was ashamed to call some one 
 down there for fear old razor-back would be 
 peacefully sleeping in his usual corner, and 
 then I might get my head knocked off for 
 playing April fool in the middle of July. I 
 would get down in his bed and feel for him, 
 but the only sign of life I found was a few 
 million fleas which covered me. But they 
 said they knew nothing of razor-back. He 
 was there the last time they noticed him, but 
 must have disappeared while they were on 
 some sort of rampage. That made me mad, 
 and I would have walloped the last one of 
 them if I had been right sure that I was 
 living. 
 
 Just as I was thinking of calling in the po- 
 lice to help me investigate this matter, I saw 
 something wriggling in one corner. At first 
 I thought it might be only a pile of fleas, but 
 upon examination I found that it was old 
 razor-back's tail. Yes, the sure thing. It 
 was his, no mistake about it. I picked it up 
 and the thing would twist around as though 
 it had life in it. I pitched it on the ground. 
 Here was a mystery which it seemed would 
 take Sherlock Holmes to unravel. It could 
 
IIO SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 not be unraveled because Sherlock was not 
 handy just then. I sat on the edge of the 
 pen to consider things, for the mystery of it 
 was getting the best of my senses. At last I 
 noticed that this little bit of razor-back's re- 
 mains appeared to be trying to root under the 
 fence all the time. At last, as if by inspira- 
 tion, the whole mystery was solved. Poor 
 old razor-back had been trying to root his 
 way out under the fence and leave me, but the 
 ground was so hard that he had worn his 
 snout off clear back to his tail, and all that 
 was left of him to tell the tale was his tail. 
 This is probably all a lie, but I make no extra 
 assessment for it. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Almost every community is afflicted with 
 some sort of human pest which people would 
 like to get rid of if they had a convenient way 
 of doing so, but I knew a community which 
 was doubly blessed with this sort of curse. 
 It was an old woman — or a demon in the 
 form of a woman, or rather in the form of a 
 fence-rail, — and many a time would she have 
 been slain had it not been that her would-be 
 slayer was afraid she would come back and 
 "hant" him. 
 
 For miles around every man, woman, and 
 child knew old Hag personally, because there 
 was not a home in all that community which 
 she did not visit every week, no matter how 
 unwelcome she was. If she had any other 
 name except old Hag no one knew it. Her 
 origin was unknown. She was one of the 
 most horrid-looking things in the shape of a 
 human being in all that country, or anywhere 
 else. She was tall and slim and had about as 
 much form as a racer-snake. Her arms al- 
 most reached the ground. Her feet were al- 
 ways enclosed in a pair of No. 9 raw-hide 
 shoes. She never wore anything except an old 
 
112 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 greasy home-spun dress, and a yard or two of 
 the same stuff which was intended for a bon- 
 net. Her hair seemed to be an entire stranger 
 to comb or brush, as her face and hands were 
 to water. Her eyes seemed to spit fire and 
 brimstone all the time. When the children 
 were unruly it was only necessary to say, "Old 
 Hag will get you if you don't behave," and 
 they behaved right then. 
 
 The thing which caused people to hate old 
 Hag more than anything else was that when 
 she went anywhere, no matter what folks 
 were doing, she had to help. If they were 
 quilting, old Hag would get a needle and 
 thread and help, too, though all her work had 
 to be undone, but not until after she had 
 gone. If one of the girls happened to be 
 making a Sunday cake and old Hag came in 
 she would pitch in with both hands and help 
 work the dough. But folks could not say 
 anything to her, for if they did she would 
 pitch into them with a broom or shovel or 
 anything else she could get her hands on, so 
 they let her have her way. 
 
 However, it was this meddlesome spirit 
 which caused old Hag to get into a lot of 
 trouble one day. She heard one Saturday that 
 John Simms and Dora Summerfield were to 
 be married next day, and that after the wed- 
 ding an elaborate dinner would be served. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 113 
 
 Now, she cared nothing at all for the wed- 
 ding, but she must see and taste that dinner. 
 
 The Summerfields were very wealthy coun- 
 try people and had many friends living in the 
 city who were invited, and as John lived in 
 the city many of his friends would also be 
 present. Old Hag lived only two miles away 
 and Mrs. Summerfield was expecting every 
 minute to see her walk in. But she did not 
 come. At 1 1 o'clock the guests from the city 
 began to arrive, and exactly at 12 m. the 
 ceremony was said. At 1 o'clock all assem- 
 bled in the spacious dining-room and were 
 seated around the long table. Just as the 
 minister said "amen," lo and behold! in 
 walked old Hag. She made for the kitchen, 
 and seizing a large cake began to break it and 
 hand it to the guests at the table. Imagine 
 their surprise. Back to the kitchen she went 
 after another load, which she distributed in 
 like manner. Mrs. Summerfield was boiling 
 over with wrath, but she knew old Hag too 
 well to say anything. While Hag was in the 
 dining-room Mrs. Summerfield darted into 
 the kitchen, where the old cook was standing 
 swelled up like a barrel. Mrs. Summerfield 
 said to her, "I will give you ten dollars to> get 
 rid of that old thing," and then left the 
 kitchen. Old Hag returned to the kitchen, 
 8 
 
114 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and while facing the side-table the old cook 
 poured three quarts of boiling coffee down 
 her back. There was a shriek, a scream, and 
 a yell which rent the air and made the hair 
 rise on the heads of the guests. She tore 
 through the dining-room and ran into the ta- 
 ble, and the guests, thinking she was a demon 
 from the lower regions, scattered in every di- 
 rection; but old Hag scattered faster than 
 they did. After kicking nearly everything 
 off of the table she tore down through the 
 parlor, out through the hall, and down the 
 walk leading to the gate, bellowing like a 
 wild Comanche. It required half an hour to 
 collect the guests from under the beds, from 
 closets and other places. At last all were 
 again seated around the table, but there was 
 a noticeable absence of appetites. The old 
 cook when found was rolling on the kitchen 
 floor in fits of laughter, and between the fits 
 would say, "Bless Gawd, she tuck tree — 
 quarts — ob — coffee — off — wid 'er — wow, 
 wow !" It was many moons before Hag med- 
 dled at another wedding. But this one was a 
 grand success, though that night they danced 
 with the windows down, even if it was July. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 It is a strange thing that a fellow will rush 
 in where there is danger of getting seriously 
 killed or awfully mangled up, and perhaps 
 be worthless the rest of his days, and yet we 
 sons of Adam have no more sense than to do 
 such things at times. Then after it is all over 
 we can see clearly what a parcel of fools we 
 have been. I have often done things which I 
 very much repented of, but then it was too 
 late. I generally do my foolish acts when I 
 lose my temper. It's a pity I can't lose the 
 thing and have it stay lost, but it won't. It is 
 like the cat, it always comes back, and is never 
 improved. The other day I got into a bad 
 scrape by losing my temper. If I had gone 
 about the job calmly and serenely I would 
 have escaped, but then there would have been 
 no satisfaction in it if I had done that. 
 
 An old long-eared mule had been bothering 
 around the place for several days. He didn't 
 do any particular damage, but then I didn't 
 like him to be standing around on the dirt 
 which I had bought. It was mine and I had 
 the right to say what should stand or lie on 
 it. ' I never stood on it, but did lie — There 
 
Il6 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 now, I didn't mean that, but it just slipped 
 out. Well, let her go. I had been chunking 
 him off with such small things as brick-bats, 
 rocks, and billets of wood, occasionally bruis- 
 ing a rib, but next morning he would be stand- 
 ing in the lot just as though it belonged to 
 him, and I would gently drive him away 
 again. It did no good, for he always came 
 back. 
 
 The other morning I looked out and saw 
 him chasing the old cow around over the lot, 
 merely to keep himself and the cow warm; 
 but I lost my temper and said many things in 
 my haste which I shall not repeat here for cer- 
 tain good and sufficient reasons. He saw me 
 coming charging down on him with fire and 
 brimstone flashing from both eyes. He knew 
 that danger was coming and he began to 
 move as only a mule can when he has to. Bil- 
 lets of wood, rocks, fence-rails, and hard 
 words were bouncing around his ears like hail. 
 That mule was going around that lot as 
 though he were a circus horse. .The air was 
 so full of missiles and hard words he could 
 not see which way to go. In his blind rage 
 he did not seem to care. 
 
 It never entered my mind that there might 
 be danger of getting hurt at such pranks as 
 that. I was sure the old mule was afraid of 
 me. If he was not, why in the name of good- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 117 
 
 ness was he running so? Of course he was 
 afraid of me and that's why he ran. Still, if 
 I had been clothed in my right mind I should 
 have known that all mules are tricky. Just 
 at the moment when you think he is not think- 
 ing he can get higher in the air and closer to 
 the ground than anything you ever saw. He 
 can get as round as a foot-ball and a great 
 deal more uncertain. He knows when you 
 are not thinking that there is danger, and 
 then he lets loose and you don't know any 
 more for a couple of weeks, perhaps a couple 
 of eternities. But on this occasion I didn't 
 try to think whether there was danger or not. 
 I didn't care. I had accumulated too much 
 enthusiasm to live without some sort of vio- 
 lent exertion. Ordinarily I am violently op- 
 posed to violent exertions ; but then there are 
 exceptions to all rules, and one of these is 
 when you are chasing a mule. 
 
 Around the lot we were going like light- 
 ning. About the forty-ninth revolution of 
 the lot he bucked into the hen-house, and no 
 two pieces were left together. He next hit 
 the wagon-shelter, and boards, posts, and 
 planks flew in every direction ; but on he went 
 and I after him in wild pursuit. I should 
 have known that the demolition of these two 
 buildings was a forewarning for me to stop, 
 but I didn't heed. He seemed to be growing 
 
Il8 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 tired of the chase, and this made me furious, 
 for I thought for once that I had the best of 
 a mule. I thought I had run him down and 
 beat him nearly to death. I could see myself 
 a very great hero. I could see great crowds 
 following. But just then he lit into the wood- 
 pile and kicked four cords of wood about. 
 The air was so full of wood that I could not 
 see the sun rising, but I saw it set. I saw it 
 coming down and I prepared myself to cross 
 over the river. There was no escape for me. 
 Down came the wood on me like a thousand 
 brick on a rotten pumpkin. It hit the top of 
 my head, my nose, my chin, back, heels, shins, 
 toes; in fact, I was hit all over and knocked 
 down, and, worse than all, my senses — which 
 are so valuable — were knocked out of me. 
 When I regained consciousness I saw the old 
 mule pulling up the hill toward the poor- 
 house, with bunches of knots on him as big 
 as pumpkins. Was this Maud's brother? 
 He has not come back and I hope he never 
 will. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Again, like Leander, I have got it good 
 and strong, but unlike him getting it in the 
 neck, I got it in the shins, knees, elbows, and 
 in fact all over. Late Saturday evening I 
 went down in the fodder-loft to set an old 
 black hen. She had her nest on the corner of 
 a pile of hay, and I began gently to pull hay, 
 hen, and all back so that I could set a box 
 down in place of the old nest. Just as I got 
 the hay to moving,' humped over in the shape 
 of an interrogation point, with one eye on the 
 hen and the other on the moving hay, all at 
 once she came at me with both fans down. 
 She flew into my face and all over me at once, 
 and I flew backward and stumbled into the 
 hole in the loft which goes down into the 
 crib. In the crib were barrels, boxes, baskets 
 and what not, and incidentally another old 
 setting hen, which was most ready to hatch; 
 and gee ! how ill she was. I fell into the bar- 
 rel in which she was, broke fourteen eggs, — 
 no, she didn't have but thirteen; that's so, 
 but never mind, I wouldn't lie for one egg, — 
 and that hen came at me with fire and brim- 
 stone in both eyes. 
 
 My shins, oh, where were they? The hide 
 
1 20 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 was hanging on the joists, my pants in 
 the air, my shank bones exposed to the ele- 
 ments, and hen No. 2 was on my head. We 
 flew around in the crib, over barrels, boxes, 
 baskets, and everything else which could get 
 in the way. My wind was gone, but the old 
 hen fanned it back, and the race went merrily 
 on. I got tired of the fun, and with the scraps 
 of legs left me I began to use them fast and 
 furiously on that insane brute, and after kick- 
 ing wildly and blindly about for several min- 
 utes I landed a good strong kick in her short 
 rib and sent her whirling out of the crib. I 
 picked up the bucket of eggs and climbed 
 back into the loft, poured the eggs into the 
 box with a few warm remarks which spoiled 
 the eggs, and dragged my aching bones off to 
 the repair shop. I despise a setting hen, don't 
 you? Had it only been a rooster — but then 
 it wasn't. And now I am away to the balmy 
 breezes of the Gulf seeking surcease of skin- 
 ned limbs. Please don't call on me to set your 
 hens, unless you are thoughtful enough to 
 bring your coffin along with you, for you will 
 be very much in need of it soon after I have 
 done with you. Beware, I say ! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 We are not burdened with many good 
 things to eat at our house, and we all got so 
 hungry last night that I bought a whole can 
 of salmon, and after they had been manufac- 
 tured into croquettes I pushed fourteen down 
 my oesophagus, and would have pushed down 
 some more, but there weren't any. They set 
 powerful heavy on my constitution, and after 
 I had gone to bed I was afraid of night- 
 mares, hobgoblins, and such brutes. I was 
 soon in the land of dreams, but the way was 
 rocky and the night was cold. All sorts of 
 trouble confronted me as I traveled through 
 that land. Long-eared monsters with ten tails 
 and a thousand eyes peered at me from their 
 caves, hissing and shrieking noises rent the 
 air, screech-owls darted by my head and 
 turned loose those infamous sounds which 
 only screech-owls possess; three-headed dogs 
 got in the way, and all manner of varmints 
 were all around me. 
 
 My whole being quaked and trembled with 
 deadly fear. I thought of all the mean things 
 I had ever done, for I felt that my time would 
 soon be up. It appeared that there was a 
 great blackboard set up in front of me, and 
 
122 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 on it were written the things which I had been 
 guilty of, and it was a conglomerated mass 
 of a mess which made me sick at my stomach. 
 It was a mighty poor record, but there were 
 too many devilish noises to brood over the 
 thing. At last I got so scared that I closed 
 my eyes and pitched out to run. I hit trees, 
 stumps, lions, dragons, snakes, and every- 
 thing else which inhabit the lower regions. I 
 looked back and the whole creation was at 
 my heels. I hit the "dim and shadowy dis- 
 tance like Nancy Hanks." 
 
 After running about nine million miles I 
 ran against something sharp, which woke me 
 up, and I found myself sitting astride the 
 palings with a mosquito bar around me, yell- 
 ing as the wild man from Borneo is said to 
 yell. That cold north wind went through my 
 covering as if it were melted hail, only it was 
 not hot. I lost no time getting the icicles off 
 my toes, and eased into bed with a few un- 
 pleasant warm remarks about salmon cro- 
 quettes. It is better to go hungry than it is 
 to have such experiences as that. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The gentle rays of the sun have at last 
 broken through the obstinate clouds, filling all 
 the land with beauty and gladness. The 
 green grass has dared to push its head above 
 the ground, trees are timidly unsheathing 
 their leaves, flowers are bursting from bud 
 to bloom, the old mocking-bird is calling to his 
 mate, the dove is cooing because of the return 
 of spring, and the old cow is standing in the 
 sunshine chewing her cud. The farmer is 
 piecing his old plow-lines and back-band, rub- 
 bing oil on his rusty Avery turning-plow, nail- 
 ing on the broken handles, cussing about the 
 grubbing hoe being lost, getting ready for 
 another fight for corn-bread and bacon. 
 
 See the love-sick swain as he rides afield 
 with dreamy, faraway looks, dreaming 
 dreams no mortal ever dared dream before, 
 his mind dwelling on a "slippered and 
 skirted" beauty up on the hill at the end of 
 the lane. He has never experienced Paradise 
 Lost. 
 
 Stir and bluster is the order of the day on 
 the old plantation just as the great king of 
 day peeps over the eastern hills to wake a 
 sleeping world to hustle and activity, and 
 
124 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 warm the earth from its wintry feeling, and 
 put life and beauty and gladness in all the 
 land. Day in and day out the honest plow- 
 man travels the same road, wearing an easy 
 conscience, and always ready to look the 
 world in the face and say, "I am one of the 
 Lord's noblemen." Shame on him who looks 
 with scorn upon the honest toiling folks of 
 the farm, for from it must come the very 
 life-blood of the nation. To stop the farm 
 will produce the same result upon the world 
 as taking from the clock the pendulum — the 
 whole machinery stops and ruin and desola- 
 tion will fill all the land. 
 
 The greatest benefactor of mankind is he 
 who lends a helping hand to those who pro- 
 duce that upon which the nation must subsist. 
 The proud monarch upon his throne who 
 looks down on his subjects with scorn should 
 realize that the very bread which keeps him 
 from perishing with hunger is produced by 
 the sweat of his toiling subjects. The proud 
 and haughty beauty who dresses in the finest 
 silks and satins and who lives on the rarest 
 dainties, who looks with scorn upon the toil- 
 ing millions, should know that the very bread 
 which nourishes her delicate body is produced 
 by the humble farmer upon whom she looks 
 as a mere chattel to toil for her welfare. And 
 yet that proud and haughty beauty is flesh of 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 25 
 
 the same flesh and blood of the same blood 
 as yonder honest, toiling farmer. In her phy- 
 sical make-up she is not one whit better than 
 the humblest farmer, and one day, when all 
 the nations of earth are called up before the 
 just Judge, she will be placed on a level with 
 him, and the same rule by which he is judged, 
 so also will she. If she is one of the elect and 
 he is one of the elect they will both walk 
 through Paradise on equal terms; but if she 
 is among the condemned and he is among the 
 condemned both will go to perdition on the 
 same terms. Her haughty beauty will avail 
 her nothing there. 
 
 Take from the world the work of those 
 who till the soil and the props of the whole 
 superstructure will fall. Ye proud and 
 haughty, who have never soiled your hands 
 with honest toil, look not with disdain upon 
 the producers of that upon which the whole 
 of creation depends for an existence. 
 
 As a rule the tillers of the soil have wrought 
 the works which have made this grand and 
 glorious civilization we to-day enjoy. It was 
 these humble folk of the farm who wrenched 
 from the hands of the tyrannous Britain the 
 colonies, and established one of the greatest 
 nations upon which the sun has ever shone. 
 It has been these same people who have led 
 
126 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 in all great movements which have been so 
 beneficial to mankind. 
 
 The gulf which exists between the common 
 laboring people and those who have been so 
 favored by fortune should be bridged over, 
 and the people of one and the same blood 
 should be nearer on terms of equality. Re- 
 fined training and great accomplishments are 
 to be desired, but these things should not 
 cause one thus blessed to think he or she is 
 above that portion of mankind which fails to 
 be in the same class. Instead of thinking 
 themselves above others they should use their 
 great accomplishments in lifting up others to 
 their plane. In this way all people of the 
 same blood would stand on terms of equality 
 and the standard of the race be raised. But 
 selfishness gets in the way and causes a lot of 
 people to do things they would not think of 
 doing were it not for selfishness. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 The most picturesque object ever seen by 
 mortal man was robed in a linen duster, cot- 
 tonade pants, brogan shoes turned up at the 
 toe, a yellow ten-cent straw hat, paper collar, 
 and a fuzzy upper lip, and his countenance 
 clothed with that dreamy, far-away look 
 which so strongly indicates a softening of the 
 brain. He whistles a fluttering love tune of 
 his "objective case," and sings songs never 
 sung before. He goes about as does a tender 
 barefoot boy treading on egg shells; he acts 
 as though he thought the eye's of the whole 
 world were upon him and could read his in- 
 most secret thoughts. He sees the object of 
 his dreams, and the sight of such a vision of 
 beauty makes his heart jump like a sack of 
 bull-frogs. He gets red in the face and folks 
 say he blushes, but the blush looks more like 
 the tender skin from which a hot mustard 
 plaster has just been removed. He sits in 
 the parlor and now and then casts a timid 
 glance across the room at the powdered 
 beauty, and as a pair of equally timid eyes 
 are raised to his, both find it convenient to 
 look out of the window, if there is one 
 handy — if not, they simply faint. They sit 
 
128 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and they sit for hours at a time, the stillness 
 being broken now and then by a shuffling foot 
 or a singing mosquito. But Sunday after 
 Sunday the same program is enacted, the 
 same foot shuffles, the same mosquito sings, 
 the escaping sighs of love dreams continue; 
 but at the last the scene changes, the old 
 rooster is killed, the cakes are baked, the 
 relatives and friends assemble, and the 
 solemn-faced preacher is in the crowd, and 
 first thing you know the 'couple are standing 
 in the middle of the floor trembling like wil- 
 low leaves stirred by gentle breezes, and in 
 solemn accents the preacher says, "And now I 
 pronounce you man and wife." And just 
 how in the world it happened only the cap- 
 tured and the captor know. But it is enough. 
 Again the scene changes, and we see the 
 once dreamy-looking face, at the hour of mid- 
 night, plunging across the dark room with an 
 armful of squalls in search of a match and 
 bottle of paregoric, and just as he has located 
 the objects of his search he slaps his naked 
 heel against an inverted tack, and it seems 
 that a whole pack of Comanches have been 
 suddenly turned loose in the room. He sits 
 down and ruminates and rubs his heel, but it 
 takes more than paregoric and tacks to put 
 an end to the squalls. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 An. old man who had passed his four-score 
 years stood on the brink of the grave, and 
 while his faculties were yet active he looked 
 back over the road which he had traveled 
 from infancy, and not one thing could he see 
 which he had ever done that could be really 
 commended, not a thing which he could feel 
 proud of having done. All he could see was 
 a life devoted to self alone, and the world 
 was not one whit better for his having lived 
 in it his allotted time, and he could sum it 
 all up in one word, "failure." 
 
 He is not the only man who has reached 
 the end of the journey and found that the 
 life he has lived has been a failure. The 
 saddest part of it is that when the end of the 
 journey is reached the chapter has ended, 
 there is no hope, no chance of re-living the 
 life, nor mending the one which has been 
 worse than wasted. If people wish to im- 
 prove themselves they must do. it right now, 
 because right now is all the time which they 
 can call their own; for to-morrow is not 
 theirs, and yesterday has gone. 
 
 Few people seem to realize the value of 
 
130 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 moments. One moment gone, it is gone for- 
 ever, and we will never have another oppor- 
 tunity of doing the things which have passed. 
 When we go through the bars of one moment 
 they are closed forever, and no power on 
 earth can let them down that we may go 
 back through them to mend something which 
 we should have done before the bars were 
 closed. There is no time like right now, for 
 yesterday is gone and can never again be ours, 
 and to-morrow may not be ours. If we reach 
 the end of our journey and find that we have 
 failed we are very sure never to have a second 
 trial. One chance is all that is ever given to 
 us, and if we fail to take advantage of that 
 chance it never comes around any more. 
 Once a failure, always a failure. 
 
 Some people do not try to do anything be- 
 cause they have not got a world of time right 
 at hand, only a few minutes. They forget 
 that by taking advantage of these few min- 
 utes in the course of a short time they will 
 have accomplished much. A student in a 
 great university became an accomplished 
 musician by practicing music for fifteen min- 
 utes each morning before breakfast at her 
 boarding-place. She had no time to lose and 
 was rewarded. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The other day — which was last fall — I 
 came near passing in my checks. I went out 
 chestnut-hunting and found a tree loaded. I 
 tried to knock the chestnuts with sticks, and 
 succeeded in doing so, but I could not find 
 them in the leaves and trash, so I concluded 
 to climb the tree, and I did. Higher and 
 higher I went until I nearly reached the top. 
 When I was about forty feet from the 
 ground, reaching out after the nuts, I did not 
 notice that I was standing on a dead limb, 
 but I found it out a little later. The limb 
 broke and down I started, grabbing at the air 
 and everything else in sight; but I failed to 
 get hold of anything except a good lot of air, 
 which was a very unsubstantial article to cling 
 to. After falling about ten feet a sharp limb 
 sticking up at an angle of forty-five degrees 
 caught in the back of my pants, and there I 
 hung, head downward. The limb below me 
 was just out of reach, neither could I reach 
 the one to the right nor to the left of me, 
 and I was not monkey enough to climb my 
 leg back to the limb stuck in my pants, so 
 there I was, suspended between the heavens 
 and the earth, but a great deal nearer the 
 
132 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 earth than the heavens, yet much farther from 
 the earth than was comfortable, especially in 
 my 'possum-like attitude. 
 
 I was ashamed to yell for help, and yet I 
 knew I must get down from there sooner or 
 later, for dark was coming, and "varmints" 
 with it. I plotted and planned, but I didn't 
 get any nearer the ground, nor any higher up. 
 If my breeches would only tear and let me 
 fall I might catch on the limb below me ; but 
 that was a doubtful proposition, besides, my 
 breeches would not tear. My head got dizzy, 
 I could see specks in the air, I could hear a 
 roaring like the coming of the train, but still 
 I didn't holler. I felt sure that my liver had 
 turned over. I thought I was going to die. 
 I could almost feel, yes, I could feel, the 
 monster begin at my heels to rub his icy 
 hands over me. Higher and higher he came, 
 and more and more I tried to prepare myself 
 for as cool a reception on the other shore as 
 possible. I began to figure on the "actions 
 strewn along my backward track." The 
 thing made me sick to think of it. I would 
 have prayed, but I couldn't. I didn't know 
 what to say. My predicament was so sud- 
 den — as some old maids would like to say — 
 that it had knocked my wits out of me. I 
 made a failure at the business. I was not 
 going to yield up the ghost without an effort, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 33 
 
 but my tormenting position and the many 
 black deeds which rose up before me knocked 
 my efforts clear out. What I tried to say 
 never got higher than the limb stuck in my 
 pants, as well as I can tell. It is strange what 
 awful feelings come over a fellow when he is 
 suddenly informed that he is expected to 
 cross over the river in a few minutes. He 
 feels right bad about it, especially if his life 
 has not been above reproach. The only thing 
 I remember doing while thus suspended was 
 to solemnly promise that if I ever got down 
 from there alive I would do better, and 
 though I have not kept this promise, yet I 
 have never done a real mean trick but that 
 promise would rise up before me and gently 
 remind me that I had lied. That always 
 makes me feel awful mean. 
 
 Well, I couldn't get up nor down, and I 
 didn't die, so I began to use my mind, — what 
 little I had up there with me, — and finally I 
 hitched onto a bright idea. Strange I hadn't 
 thought of it before. The idea was to un- 
 button my suspenders, slide out of my pants, 
 reach the limb below me, and make my way 
 back to my pants. That was a very simple 
 thing to do, and any fool ought to have 
 thought of it, and really I would have done 
 so had I not been scared. Frankly, I was 
 
134 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 scared, and I don't give a continental hurrah 
 who knows it. 
 
 The plan succeeded well, but just as I 
 reached the limb below me in safety, and was 
 standing on it looking at my pants hanging 
 just out of reach, what do you suppose hap- 
 pened? I didn't fall, of course not. But I 
 saw four ladies coming toward the chestnut 
 tree, and me with my breeches off ! I declare 
 to goodness, I felt so little that I could have 
 crawled into my sock if I had only thought of 
 it. Closer and closer they came, perfectly 
 oblivious of the fact that I was in the middle 
 of a bad fix. They came under the tree and 
 began to pick up my chestnuts which had 
 spilled out of my pockets. I expected every 
 moment that they would look up, but they 
 didn't. They must be gotten away from 
 there and that quick, so I squalled like a wild- 
 cat, and laws ! how the coat-tails did get out 
 of those woods, and not a one of them played 
 the part of Lot's wife. I pulled back up 
 the tree, got my pants, put them on and went 
 home. No, thanks, I won't go chestnut-hunt- 
 ing to-day. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Another Christmas with all its festivities 
 and so forth has come and gone, and now 
 here I am pecking away again after Uncle 
 Sam's stray coins which happen to be pranc- 
 ing around over the country. This Christmas 
 has been very much like all the others I have 
 lived through, so far as I can remember. I 
 didn't expect much and so was not disap- 
 pointed. As usual, I hung up my sock and 
 then retired waiting for the descent of Santa 
 Claus. In due time he descended and began 
 filling all of our socks and stockings, but when 
 he came to mine he didn't fancy the perfume, 
 so he seized his nose with one hand and with 
 the other tried to fill the yawning cavity; but 
 in his one-handed way of filling the thing he 
 dropped his bag of toys, which woke me up. 
 I thought the door had been left open and a 
 dog or cat or yearling or mule or some other 
 brute had intruded into the room, and I arose 
 in a rush and made for him, yelling, "Get 
 out of here, you pesky brute!" and in his 
 blind rage trying to get back up the chimney 
 his foot slipped, he fell, the light flared up, 
 and I saw that it was Santa and that he was 
 trying to get away without filling my sock, so 
 
136 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 I pitched into his bundle of good things for 
 my share, and Santa grabbed the other side, 
 and we had it round and round the room, 
 over chairs and tables and the cradle, under 
 the bed and over the dresser, spilling good 
 things here and there, breaking wagons, 
 trains, dolls, dogs, horses, billy-goats and hill- 
 billies and all the balance of them. But 
 Santa had more wind than I did, and at the 
 ninety and ninth revolution of the room my 
 breath was gone, and so was Santa. After 
 he had made his escape I began to search for 
 the things which had been spilled, and to my 
 horror I could only find a bunch of fire- 
 crackers, a stick of red candy, three peanuts, 
 and enough hide to make fifteen pairs of 
 shoes, which had been peeled off of my elbows 
 and shins in the fray. Mighty little pay for 
 so much work and the loss of so much hide. 
 
 No doubt Santa has not stopped running 
 yet, and perhaps never will. He must have 
 thought he had run up against Banquo's 
 ghost or some other unearthly monster, which 
 wouldn't down. He may survive, but I 
 doubt it; but even if he should I am sure he 
 has visited me his last time, at least until I 
 learn a great deal more manners. But I am 
 ready for another Christmas, or will be when 
 it gets here, and I promise to be good if 
 Santa will only come again. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Just what freak of foolishness put it into 
 my head to be a lawyer I never did know ; in 
 fact, I never tried to find out much. Perhaps 
 it was my innate propensity for telling the 
 truth on all occasions and regardless of the 
 result — to the other fellow. But nevertheless 
 the idea got tangled up in my mind that I 
 ought to be a lawyer, and the idea kept 
 worrying me from day to day until I was al- 
 most ready to commit treason, or any old 
 thing, to get rid of that worrying idea. I 
 argued with the idea, or the thing which kept 
 telling me to be a lawyer, but the thing 
 seemed always to get the better of the argu- 
 ment, and at the end of it I would lie pros- 
 trate for hours at a time, and at other times 
 I would lie when I was not prostrated. That 
 is what the idea told me was the first thing to 
 learn if I expected to succeed, and of course 
 I would not go into such a thing as the law 
 business without an intention of succeeding. 
 But the thing kept on nagging me, until 
 finally I surrendered and gave up the ghost. 
 
 I borrowed an old rusty copy of Black- 
 stone a hundred years old, which had no back, 
 
138 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and began to take my first lesson. I read 
 about the feudal system, perquisites, estates 
 tail, estates during coverture, estates by cour- 
 tesy, dower, freehold estates, tenancy at suf- 
 ferance, reversions, remainders, both vested 
 and contingent; executory devises, corporeal 
 and incorporeal hereditaments, — I called 'em 
 he-red-i-ta-ments ; but that was because I was 
 a fool, — easements, and about the hebendum 
 and tenendum in deeds, and the good Lord 
 only knows what else I read about. I cer- 
 tainly didn't know. I had made my way 
 nearly through this volume when it occurred 
 to me that I wasn't learning anything. I 
 tried to think about what I had read, and not 
 a thing could I call to mind which I had gone 
 over; but perhaps it didn't matter, the idea 
 might be to read, and let the learning go to 
 thunder or the penitentiary, where I might 
 go. I had heard lawyers conducting their 
 cases and making long-winded speeches, and 
 they didn't seem to know what they were 
 talking about, and I certainly didn't know, 
 and the idea got mixed up in my mind some- 
 how that the secret of success in the law busi- 
 ness was to talk so that folks wouldn't know 
 what a fellow was talking about and they 
 would say he was smart. I knew 1 could do 
 that without any trouble. The scheme looked 
 plausible. So I kept on reading, though none 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 139 
 
 of it would stick. I didn't know whether 
 Blackstone contained all the law in existence 
 or not, but I supposed it did. 
 
 One day I happened to be at a trial before 
 a justice of the peace, and there were two 
 lawyers there, and one of them had a book 
 which didn't look like my copy of Blackstone. 
 Evidently it was a law book or the fellow 
 would not have it there. My curiosity was 
 aroused. It seemed that I had found out 
 something new, and as I was fairly boiling 
 over with greenness in my new line I thought 
 I might appropriately ask a question, so I 
 asked him, the lawyer, what book that was he 
 had. He said it was the "code." He was a 
 new law writer to me. I had never heard of 
 him before. I supposed that Code was the 
 name of the man who wrote it, just as Black- 
 stone was. I timidly asked him where I could 
 get a copy of the code, and he was kind 
 enough to loan me one, as he had two. I 
 carried it home with me and devoured its 
 contents ; that is, I read it, but none of it ever 
 got tangled up enough in my mind to stick. 
 Evidently the law was a dull business, but I 
 had patience. I found one place where it said 
 that a fellow would have to stand an examina- 
 tion before he could practice, and it gave a 
 list of things upon which he would have to 
 be examined. There were some eight or ten 
 
140 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 of them. I had never heard of any of them 
 before. 
 
 When I read the thing through and none 
 of it had "took up" with me, I decided to go 
 and see the lawyer. He had the reputation 
 of being a very poor lawyer, so I thought I 
 could go to him with some ease. He might 
 be able to give me a few points worth some- 
 thing. I went, and I told him my wants and 
 desires. He said he knew very little law, and 
 that what he did have was just picked up, 
 and he advised me to go to the University 
 and take a law course. He said if I would 
 do this and stay there two years I would be a 
 good lawyer when I left there. He lied 
 about that, but he did it through ignorance, 
 so I am charitable enough to let him off if St. 
 Peter will. It was necessary to do some figur- 
 ing about the cost of that thing, so I wrote 
 the chancellor, and he and I figured out about 
 what the two years would cost me. Not so 
 much as I expected, but about six times as 
 much as I had ; but as a lawyer is expected to 
 do anything and everything I could not af- 
 ford to "stall" on such a thing as the lack of 
 a little cash, so by hook and crook and other 
 ways I managed the financial part of it. 
 
 At last the day came for me to go to the 
 University. My knees got weak at the 
 thought of it. I had never been very far 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 141 
 
 away from home, and I had sense enough to 
 know that my greenness would soon be found 
 out, for I was covered with it. I got over to 
 H. S. and found that my train did not leave 
 until nine o'clock that night, and that I would 
 get to the University at ten the same night, 
 only an hour's run. The horribleness of it is 
 beyond the power of the richest imagination 
 to describe. I had heard of those University 
 boys, how rough they were, and that some- 
 times at night a hundred of them would steal 
 off down to the depot and pitch into an incom- 
 ing stranger, especially if he was green, and 
 nearly kill him. At last my train came. I 
 was so nervous I could hardly hit the door, 
 and even when I was safely on board I was 
 morally certain that I was on the wrong train. 
 I saw the conductor coming around taking 
 up the tickets and I began to fumble for mine. 
 I was so nervous I thought I was shaking the 
 train; the thing was wabbling around like a 
 drunken man. The conductor thought I was 
 sick with the palsy when I handed him my 
 ticket. He took it and punched a hole in it. 
 I thought that meant "no good," but he put 
 it in his pocket and strode on. I was some- 
 what relieved. It seemed that I had been on 
 that train two months when the conductor 
 came through the car and shouted, "Oxford, 
 all out for Oxford!" and out I tumbled, run- 
 
142 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ning against everybody in the aisle. Folks 
 must have thought I was the wild man from 
 Borneo, at least they got out of my way; but 
 I was harmless. 
 
 I had not more than hit the ground until 
 the most awful sound that ever fell upon 
 human ears greeted me. It sounded like a 
 thousand little John Hosses. It sounded 
 something like this : "Razzle, dazzle, 
 gobble, gobble, sis boom bah, Mississippi, 
 Mississippi, rah, rah, rah!" Law me, such 
 talking. It didn't have a speck of sense in it, 
 but then I didn't stop to learn either. I 
 thought that meant for them to charge. Per- 
 haps it was their war-whoop. I expected 
 every moment a million of them would pitch 
 into me and not leave a hair nor hide of me. 
 I began to look around for a convenient way 
 to leave there. A lot of livery teams were 
 standing back a few steps away, and I made 
 for one and pitched into it as though shot out 
 of a rifle, and landed my head against a 
 Methodist preacher's stomach. (I learned 
 soon after that he was a Methodist preacher.) 
 When my head hit his stomach he turned 
 loose a groan which would have done credit 
 to a condemned spirit. I forgot to apologize, 
 in fact I didn't have time, he was too busy 
 groaning and rubbing his stomach. The 
 hackman asked him where he wanted to go, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 43 
 
 and in his agony I failed to hear what he 
 said, but supposed he said to some hotel, 
 and when the driver asked me where I wanted 
 to go I told him to carry me to the same 
 place. It made no difference to me which 
 hotel I went to, the idea was to get to one. 
 
 The preacher tried to get me to talk after 
 he got through massaging his stomach, but I 
 didn't have any on hand, so I let him have 
 the right of way. I didn't propose to show 
 my ignorance there in the dark. The hack 
 stopped and he got out and I got out. We 
 paid the driver and he drove off and we went 
 in. My companion rang the door bell. A 
 strange thing to' do at a hotel. A whiskered 
 gentleman came to the door with a long coat 
 and a "parsonial" look on him, and said, 
 
 'Ah, Dr. S , I am indeed glad to see 
 
 you. Right this way," and he started to close 
 the door. Perhaps he didn't see me, but I 
 was not going to roost on the door-steps of a 
 hotel. I had come there to be a lawyer and I 
 refused to be treated in any such infamous 
 style. If he failed to see me that was all 
 right, but if he had done it on purpose I 
 would wallop the daylights out of him. I 
 meant to find out what he meant, so I pushed 
 the door open. He looked at me as though 
 he thought I was a bob-tailed calamity. He 
 wanted to know who I was. I told him that 
 
144 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 I had come there to make a lawyer of myself, 
 and that I had just got off of the train, and I 
 wanted a place to stay all night, and I had 
 come there for that purpose. I had money 
 to pay my way and he needn't look at me as 
 though he thought I was the hind-sights of 
 destruction. He looked foolish. He didn't 
 seem to know just how to size me up, whether 
 I was playing a joke on him or whether I was 
 crazy or just a natural-born fool ; but as luck 
 would have it he kept his opinion to himself, 
 for my feelings were hurt at the reception he 
 had given me. Though I was poor and green 
 I was just as good as he was. But he kindly 
 informed me that I had lost my bearings, that 
 he could not possibly entertain me for the 
 night, but that I might go to a hotel. Land 
 sakes! was it possible that I was not at a 
 hotel? That is what he said. He informed 
 
 me that he was the Rev. Mr. S , pastor 
 
 of the Methodist church at that place. I 
 nearly fainted. I thanked the Lord that I 
 had forgot to tell him who I was. He 
 directed me to a hotel. He said there was a 
 good one only three blocks up the street. 
 
 I didn't know whether three blocks meant 
 three miles or three hundred yards, but 
 enough of my greenness had escaped for one 
 occasion and I didn't ask him. I had not 
 more than got this information until the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 45 
 
 preacher closed the door. Evidently he was 
 excited, and I know I was. It was as dark 
 as Egypt. Up the street I went in search of 
 that hotel. Not a light to be seen. All the 
 houses were pitch-dark. Every few steps I 
 had the good fortune to run against a fence 
 or telegraph pole, for. which I was thankful, 
 for every time I hit one it brought me to my 
 senses. It seemed that I had gone five miles. 
 At last it seemed that I had come to the 
 business part of the town. I could tell that I 
 had reached the square. Around the square 
 I started. Stores all closed. At last I saw a 
 light away back in the back end of a store, 
 and I rattled manfully on the door. I wanted 
 help badly. The door was locked, but the 
 store man came to the front. He directed 
 me around on the next street, where I found 
 that long-lost hotel. I went in. It was full 
 of folks, men and women. I thought that if 
 all those folks stayed there that night I cer- 
 tainly would have to sleep in the kitchen. 
 The clerk told me to register and I did, 
 though I was so nervous that I could not tell 
 what my name was after I got it down. He 
 escorted me up to my room. He told me they 
 were having a ball there that night. I had 
 always heard them called dances. But I de- 
 clined to participate, with thanks. As I wa,s 
 
146 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 going up the stairway a couple were sitting 
 on the steps, and I was so conspicuous that I 
 attracted their attention, especially the young 
 lady's. The sweet thing was so interested in 
 me that she audibly remarked, "A fresh hill- 
 billy from the pines." I thought I was thun- 
 derstruck, and I lost my balance and went 
 tumbling down the steps like a pumpkin. I 
 said some very warm things — under my hat. 
 But the second trip I managed to pass them 
 safely and got to my room. 
 
 Next morning I made my way to the Uni- 
 versity, and before night I was duly installed 
 in the law department. I was introduced to 
 
 Dr. L first, and a little later to Dr. 
 
 J , and after a while I met Dr. 
 
 S , and then Dr. B , and soon 
 
 after this Dr. F . Great Scott ! what 
 
 does all this mean ? I had met no less than a 
 dozen doctors all right there at the Univer- 
 sity. I thought that it must be a mighty 
 sickly place or they would not have so many 
 doctors. The thing bothered me no little for 
 several days, but I had sense enough to keep 
 my greenness to myself that time and ask no 
 questions. I don't know just how it hap- 
 pened, but somehow I found out that these 
 gentlemen were not pill doctors, they were 
 teachers in the University. I had no idea 
 why they were called doctors unless they were 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 47 
 
 doctors of greenness. At least, I figured it 
 out that way and let it go. 
 
 What was ahead of me as a member of this 
 institution I had no idea, and I will not at- 
 tempt to give it — at least, only a small part 
 of it. It is too fresh to give it all. I sup- 
 posed that I would be the only stray hill-billy 
 in the crowd, but I found out that I wasn't. 
 There were others. I hitched on to three of 
 my sort. I had lots of company, and it was 
 good and green. We roomed in the dormi- 
 tory and took our meals in town. At our 
 boarding-place there were three young ladies, 
 and sometimes after supper they would coax 
 us to stay for an hour. On such occasions 
 they had lots of fun, but we didn't. 
 
 One night while we were in the parlor, 
 they chattering like a box of monkeys, and 
 we grinning like a basket of 'possums, three 
 city swells came in, evidently the girls' sweet- 
 hearts. We four greenies were huddled in 
 one corner of the room and the girls were on 
 the sofas, and when the city fellows came in 
 they took their seats by the girls and began 
 to jabber like a town full of geese, and now 
 and then they were so thoughtful as to fire a 
 few cross-questions at us, and we answered 
 with broad side grins. 
 
 When we had endured all the torments of 
 condemned spirits, a great big yellow cat 
 
148 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 came into the room, and one of the city fel- 
 lows picked the cat up and began to pour out 
 great sluices of nonsense over it and wound 
 up by saying, "F'eddy, old boy, I betcher I 
 can tell what this cat's name is ; I betcher her 
 name's Julia." Little black-eyed Susie sitting 
 on the sofa piped out and said, "Oh, no, 
 Jack, he is not a Julia cat." Jack let Tommy 
 fall as though he had suddenly become red- 
 hot. We four greenies exploded. I pulled 
 for the door, closely pursued by my fleeing 
 companions, and we went up the street mak- 
 ing the night hideous with yells of laughter. 
 I don't suppose Tommy has cooled off yet. 
 
 By hard work I moved along fairly well, 
 for me. I was able to pass all my examina- 
 tions, the saying of which is boasting a great 
 deal, or it would be were it not for the fact 
 I got help sometimes when the professor was 
 asleep or his back turned. One thing we four 
 cronies religiously resolved not to do, and 
 that was that we would not go into society. 
 We didn't stick to the resolution. If we bad 
 it would have saved us a lot of trouble, or at 
 least a lot for me. We had sense enough to 
 know that we were green and that the cityites 
 would laugh at us. But while we were green 
 and knew it, we didn't know how weak we 
 were, we had never been flattered. That 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 49 
 
 little bait has caught lots of suckers, and it is 
 not strange that we were caught. 
 
 One night they were to have a grand ball 
 in town, in honor of one of the fraternities. 
 ( My three cronies and I belonged to that cel- 
 ebrated fraternity known as "goats." The 
 ball was not in honor of this fraternity.) I 
 had never been to a ball in my life, except an 
 old-fashioned country dance, which is no 
 more like a ball than a pig is like the moon. 
 But on this night some of the society boys 
 told us that we ought to go. They flattered 
 us a little and threw out a few sugar-coated 
 words which sounded awful sweet to us. We 
 didn't know what they were up to, but we 
 were fools enough to think they were after 
 doing us good, and perhaps they were, and 
 then again perhaps they weren't. At any 
 rate, we debated the matter pro and con, 
 mostly con, but at last I told them that it was 
 not right for us to always be green, that we 
 ought to get out and rub up against polished 
 folks, and maybe some of it would stick to us ; 
 that we would be boys only once, and that we 
 had never seen anything, and we ought to go. 
 
 My argument was real convincing. They 
 said if I would go they would, and we went. 
 We were put down on the list of boys who 
 wanted a girl to go with. Poor fools, we 
 had no idea what we were getting into. We 
 
150 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 supposed that we would escort our com- 
 panions to the ballroom afoot. The idea of 
 having to hire a carriage for the occasion 
 never entered our minds. We got ready to 
 go, and, lo and behold! four drivers called 
 for us, a carriage for each. We told the 
 drivers that we had not ordered them and 
 didn't need them, that we expected to walk. 
 It was only a few hundred yards, but they in- 
 formed us that all those who went were in 
 carriages, and besides if we called for our 
 girls without a carriage they would not go 
 with us ; that no matter whether it was forty 
 yards or half a mile, we must have a car- 
 riage. A smothered council was held to con- 
 sider this thing, but the only thing we could 
 do was to crawl in and swallow the pill. We 
 found out later it was a full-grown one. We 
 had figured on the thing costing us not less 
 than a dollar apiece. That was awful to 
 spend so much money for such a short ride, 
 but we called for our companions in true 
 style. 
 
 I must side-track enough here to say that 
 we had on full evening dress-suits, rented 
 especially for the occasion. I looked real 
 handsome with my claw-hammer coat on, but 
 I felt like a thirty-cent fool. With as few 
 blunders as possible I got my girl into the 
 carriage, and off we went. I was dumb as an 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 151 
 
 oyster, and nearly as senseless, but she enter- 
 tained me; in fact, she didn't give me a 
 chance to talk, for which I felt very grateful. 
 She hopped into Shakespeare and began to 
 pour out great sluices of it, and at the end of 
 about every fifteen-line quotation she would 
 stop and ask, "Now, isn't that just simply 
 lovely?" and I had talk enough to say, 
 "Yes'um." I did exceedingly well to say 
 that. The night air certainly felt good to 
 my roasting face, for it was a hot October 
 night. I don't know whether I was blushing 
 or not ; it was too dark for me to find out. 
 
 When we got to the ballroom they had a 
 doorkeeper, a fellow to take up a collection. 
 Now out in my neck of the woods they never 
 did that way. It was as free as going to 
 preaching. As luck would have it, I was be- 
 hind, and when the doorkeeper asked the 
 leading greeny if he wanted to dance he 
 blurted out "no" so sudden and short it 
 knocked the doorkeeper's hat off. When he 
 had recovered from the shock of that thun- 
 dering "no," he said, "Three dollars, please." 
 Greeny then asked him what the fee was for 
 admission if he did dance, and he said, 
 "Nothing." That suited all three of us, and 
 we were admitted as dancers. I felt very 
 much as though I could "cut the mustard 
 lively," as we used to say in the hills. But wc 
 
152 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 were soon to learn something else. They 
 were getting up the first set. I decided not to 
 dance that set, nor' any other if I could get 
 out of it right handy. So we four greenies 
 stood in the corner and looked on. I will let 
 the mantle of charity fall over my feelings 
 and say nothing about them, but must remark 
 that if there had been a convenient way of 
 escaping, we certainly would have taken 
 French leave ; but there wasn't. 
 
 Before the set ended we learned our first 
 valuable lesson. We had been admitted as 
 dancers and we must dance, and the dancers 
 were taxed five dollars each for the music, 
 they said. I thought fiddling paid better 
 there than it did back in the pine hills where 
 I had come from. With a ten-pound groan 
 we handed over our little fives. Now, we had 
 paid for the privilege of dancing, and of 
 course it would be a losing proposition if we 
 didn't dance; but I knew no more about 
 dancing that a babopn knows about Greek, 
 but I reckoned that it wasn't too late to learn. 
 I had been used to "Hands up and circle to 
 the left; swing your partner; right hands 
 across; left back; swing your 'object'; all 
 promenade!" and so on, but they didn't have, 
 a bit of that in theirs. They didn't call the 
 "figgers," and how the blazes I was going to 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 53 
 
 dance without my usual "figgers" being called 
 I simply didn't know. I learned later. 
 
 The man would lock his left hand in the 
 girl's right, with her left hand on his shoulder 
 and his right arm around her waist! By 
 gosh ! if a fellow had tried that back in the 
 hills he would have got his face slapped off. 
 I had huge misgivings about my ability to do 
 that thing successfully, besides I knew about 
 as much about time as a jay-bird does of 
 Socrates. I would have given up my bright 
 prospects of being a great lawyer if a good 
 opportunity had presented itself for me to 
 get off somewhere where I could have com- 
 mitted suicide just then; but the opportunity 
 wasn't handy, so I took the dose like a man, 
 but failed to swallow it. I was thoughtful 
 enough to say to my partner beforehand that 
 I was rather fresh in that business and she 
 would do well to look out for her corns. My 
 steps were very uncertain. She soon found 
 out that the warning was timely and should 
 have been heeded, if it could have been. One 
 thing which troubled me more than anything 
 else was knowing just how hard to hug; but 
 as green as I was it occurred to me that I 
 ought to go at it rather gently, and if I was 
 not doing it right she might assist me. The 
 band struck up a lively air and so did I. I 
 laid hold of my partner as though I was 
 
154 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 going to shoulder a bale of cotton, and she 
 kindly said, "Not so reckless." Of course I 
 knew I had played thunder, but I repented 
 several million times. I started off on the 
 wrong foot, or I suppose it was the wrong 
 one, for surely it could not have been the 
 right one. One of my comrades said after- 
 ward that my legs were flying around like a 
 pair of winding blades, but I think he lied, 
 and I said so. 
 
 For the first eight or ten steps she softly 
 said, "Oh, my corns !" no less than fifteen 
 times; but I reminded her that it was un- 
 avoidable, I could not put my feet in my 
 pockets. Besides, she had been forewarned 
 to look out for trouble. But I was keeping 
 up. I would have broken my neck rather 
 than fall behind. Every now and then I 
 could hear a giggle, but it never occurred to 
 me that it was possible for them to be laugh- 
 ing at me. In fact, very little occurred to me 
 during the whole performance, for I was too 
 busy trying to keep off my partner's toes. 
 The only thing which struck me forcibly was 
 her patience. She had lots of it. Though I 
 crushed her dainty little feet to mince-meat 
 she never did grumble. She would have 
 made some good man — not me — a mighty 
 good little — . Oh, well, I've no time to 
 moralize. I'm dancing now and can't stop. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 55 
 
 When we had gone two times around the 
 circle and I was getting real interested in the 
 game, and was learning how to keep off my 
 partner's toes, a great calamity took place. 
 I was slinging my legs right and left, up and 
 down, and round and round, and I got ex- 
 cited, and of course I had to get ahead of the 
 tune. I went too fast and stepped on the 
 girl's train ahead of me, and "rip," she had 
 lost it. Hot and cold chills chased each 
 other up and down my back, great drops of 
 sweat popped out on my forehead, and I 
 stood there with my mouth open, as dumb as 
 a snail. Her partner was as mad as a wet 
 hen. What an uproar it caused! Eight or 
 ten girls crowded around her trying to get 
 the thing back on, but I had seen that it was 
 actually torn in two — come unjointed. I got 
 sick and would have died if I could, but I 
 couldn't make it. The music stopped, the 
 dance stopped, and everything stopped — ex- 
 cept the thumping of my heart. It thundered 
 around as though it meant to break my ribs 
 and get away. My partner, poor thing, got 
 so ashamed of me that it made her sick and 
 she had to go home. I was glad of it. 
 
 I went sneaking out of there with my long- 
 tailed claw-hammer coat on, praying for a 
 cyclone to come along and clean that miser- 
 able mess off the face of the earth, but my 
 
156 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 recollection now is that none came. I heard 
 some hard words hurled at me as I left there, 
 but they did not injure me at all. On the way 
 home the only thing my partner said was, 
 "Accidents will happen," . and I had talk 
 enough on hand to again say, "Yes'um." 
 Really, I didn't know whether they did or 
 not. 
 
 When the driver put me out at my room 
 he says, "Three dollars, please." What! 
 Did I hear him right ? Three dollars ? Had 
 the awful moments through which I had just 
 passed upset my thinking apparatus ? I really 
 didn't know whether I had such a thing as 
 that. But that is exactly what he said. It 
 brought my senses to me. I remon- 
 strated, begged, implored, entreated, insisted, 
 cussed — good old honest Irishman cussing; 
 but it did no good. He was as stubborn as a 
 mule. I felt like taking off my claw-hammer 
 coat and knocking his head off with it. But 
 I paid the bill, inasmuch as cussing would do 
 no good. 
 
 Five dollars for the privilege of dancing, 
 and then didn't dance; three dollars for the 
 carriage, and two dollars rent for my claw- 
 hammer suit — ten good honest borrowed 
 dollars all spent to go to one little old ball. 
 I have been to a hundred in the pine hills of 
 my county, and never spent one-tenth of that 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 57 
 
 amount all put together, and had forty times 
 as much fun. In fact, I hardly think I had 
 any fun on this occasion. I was crazy for a 
 week. I never went to another ball and I 
 never will — not as a dancer. My comrades 
 and I sat around for the next month and 
 abused each other for going, each blaming the 
 other. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 I had not been at the University long 
 when it was reported that a few miles from 
 town there was an old tumble-down house 
 which was haunted. A light could be seen 
 shining out of the window any night. People 
 seemed to have very little desire to investigate 
 and find out what it was. A year or two be- 
 fore that an old man, who had lived a lonely 
 life there for several years, was found in his 
 room one day dead. It was very apparent 
 that he had been murdered, for there were 
 signs of a struggle. The old man had no 
 near relatives known to any one, and it was 
 reported that he was very rich. The thing 
 aroused our curiosity and we decided to ex- 
 plore the haunted house. So one Friday 
 night shortly after dark we set out on foot 
 to see if we could learn anything about this 
 mystery. 
 
 About ten o'clock we reached the top of 
 the hill overlooking the old house. Not a 
 sign of life could be seen nor any sound heard. 
 The gloomy old building could be seen silhou- 
 etted against the eastern horizon. It was not 
 very inviting. Two hundred yards from it 
 we sat down to wait for the appearance of the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 59 
 
 ghost. A half hour passed and we saw 
 nothing. An hour passed and still nothing. 
 The hour of midnight was approaching and 
 still not a sign of light could we see. We 
 began to think we had been on a fruitless 
 snipe chase or else the ghost was not at home. 
 We began to debate about going home, when 
 suddenly a red light gleamed out at an upper 
 window. What a thrill of horror ran down 
 our backs. Suddenly our teeth began to chat- 
 ter, but we were not scared. The time for ac- 
 tion had arrived, and though it was a hot 
 night all four of us were shaking as though 
 we had a chill, and our teeth were rattling as 
 though it was one of December's wintry 
 nights ; but we had gone to explore the mys- 
 teries and none of us was brave enough to 
 suggest backing down. 
 
 We got up and moved forward, as close to 
 each other as the bark is to a tree. We cau- 
 tiously made our way to the front door. Not 
 a sound could be heard, save the thumping of 
 our hearts and our chattering teeth. The 
 front door was locked; we could not get in 
 there. With noiseless tread we made our 
 way to the back door, the way to which led 
 through tall weeds nearly as high as our 
 heads, which was anything but inviting; but 
 we reached the back door in safety. It was 
 standing partly open. One of the boys had 
 
160 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 a dark lantern, but so far we had not dared 
 light it. Who shall enter first? was a ques- 
 tion which bothered us. None of us wanted 
 the honor to lead, but somehow we all moved 
 as one and all entered together. For a minute 
 after entering we stood listening, but not a 
 sound could be heard. 
 
 Through a small crack at the top of an old 
 rickety stairway the light from the upper 
 room was shining. Up this stairway we 
 silently moved, until we had reached the land- 
 ing. Not six feet away was the crack through 
 which the light was shining, and we started 
 up to it with the intention of peeping through, 
 but just as we had reached it the light went 
 out. It was pitch-dark. Before our dark 
 lantern could be lighted the door of the room 
 suddenly opened and we could hear the 
 almost noiseless tread of some one coming 
 out. Our hair stood straight up and our 
 hearts almost broke our ribs. However, when 
 our lamp was lighted not a sign of the fleeing 
 ghost could be seen, and not a sound could be 
 heard. We followed the narrow passage in 
 the direction of the fleeing ghost, human or 
 devil, or whatever it was. It wound round 
 and round, and finally we came to another 
 stairway, and we were sure that our game had 
 gone up this second stairway, so we followed 
 suit. We reached the landing all right, and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY l6l 
 
 had gone some fifteen feet, when suddenly 
 from a dark corner rushed ghost, man or 
 devil or some other unearthly demon, and 
 knocked the dark lantern out of the boy's 
 hand who had it, and broke it. It was darker 
 than Egypt. Each of us made a grab for the 
 fleeing demon, but we only caught a handful 
 of darkness. 
 
 Everything was uncanny, a stifling odor 
 filled the passage, and we wished we were 
 back at the University. Our heads were 
 turned and we did not know which way to go, 
 and we had only two matches. By the use of 
 these we were able to make our way to the 
 first landing. To our surprise, when we 
 reached the first landing the light was again 
 shining out at the little crack, but at our 
 approach it went out again. We listened for 
 the approach of our game, but he did not 
 come. All at once a cool breath swept by us, 
 and it was not an earthly one either. Cold 
 chills ran up and down our backs at a rapid 
 rate. Our enemy had the advantage of us, 
 because he being from the infernal regions 
 could see us and we could not see him. We 
 debated in whispers whether we should enter 
 the door where the light had been or not, but 
 it was quickly decided that we would not. 
 After standing there for ten minutes, — which 
 
1 62 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 seemed like ten weeks, — one of the boys, in 
 moving, struck his foot against something and 
 fell against the door, headlong into the room 
 with the ghost. The ghost came out with a 
 rush, and we undertook to hold it, but what 
 a scramble and struggle we had ! He led us 
 toward the stairway, and first thing we knew 
 we were all rolling down the stairs like so 
 many pumpkins. When we landed at the 
 bottom the ghost was gone, and we endeav- 
 ored to find the door through which we had 
 entered. We found a door and went through 
 it, but it did not lead out of the house. 
 Evidently we had entered a large hall. We 
 were ready to go home if we could only find 
 our way out. 
 
 As we stood there planning how to get out 
 we were suddenly greeted with a sound as of 
 some one tip-toeing around in the hall or 
 room where we were. We listened. Round 
 and round the room it went, but we did not 
 attempt to molest it. We were so close to- 
 gether that one of us could not have been shot 
 without killing the bunch. Directly there 
 seemed to be two on the march, and then 
 three. Our hair rose some more, but the 
 marching went on. In silence we stood and 
 listened, expecting every moment for them to 
 fall on us for the last struggle. Each of us 
 glutched his barlow. They must have made 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 63 
 
 the circuit of that room or hall a hundred 
 times. Sometimes they seemed near us and 
 then again eight or ten feet away. 
 
 While standing there glued to the floor a 
 faint glimmer appeared on the opposite wall ; 
 was it light? The walking stopped. Brighter 
 and brighter the light shone, until we recog- 
 nized it as the rays of the moon. The march- 
 ing ghosts had gone. In a few moments the 
 room was flooded with the light of the moon. 
 Dust an inch deep covered the floor. Not a 
 track could be seen, save where we had en- 
 tered. By the moonlight we found the door 
 by which we had entered, and made our way 
 into the yard and back up on the hill over- 
 looking the haunted house, and as we turned 
 the bend of the road which left the old house 
 out of sight we breathed our first free breath 
 since leaving the hilltop. We looked back 
 and saw the light shining from the window, 
 but we didn't go back. Just as the gray dawn 
 was making its appearance in the east we en- 
 tered our rooms with the steadfast determina- 
 tion never again to go ghost-hunting. 
 
 The second year was drawing to a close. 
 I had learned immense wads of law. I was 
 almost a full-grown Mathew Hale, or some 
 other fellow. I had passed all examinations, 
 but did not have much margin to spare. The 
 last one came and my heart trembled. Should 
 
164 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 I fall below fifty I would be down and out 
 and would have to face the chancellor. I 
 feared him, but the day came and I wrestled 
 with it manfully, and my recollection now is 
 that I made fifty-nine, nine points to spare. I 
 was safe. The battle had been a hard-fought 
 one, but I was Victor (not Hugo). I was, 
 or would be soon, a real lawyer, one who 
 could charge a fee if he had the chance. 
 
 Then the preparations for commencement 
 rolled around. Our costume for that august 
 day was discussed pro and con. All wanted 
 to appear on that occasion in cap and gown. 
 Well, I didn't care, for it would hide my 
 worn-out clothes. The idea was a good one. 
 But when we began to figure on the cost we 
 found them to be seven dollars; that is, the 
 cheapest ones were. That looked like seven 
 dollars thrown away. The idea was repulsive 
 to me, for I didn't have that much. The class 
 was divided. About half of them were amply 
 able to buy the cap and gown and the other 
 half were not, so we divided. The poor half 
 held a council of war to discuss this thing. 
 Finally it was decided that we would try and 
 rent them, and we did, so we sent to Philadel- 
 phia and rented them for $1.50 a head. 
 That beat seven, and then on graduation day 
 you could not have told the bought ones from 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 65 
 
 the rented ones. We poor fellows appeared 
 in true style. 
 
 At last the fateful 22nd of June rolled 
 around. The sun shone overhead gloriously, 
 but it shone in my heart much more so. Only 
 yesterday it seemed I was following old Beck 
 up and down the corn rows, and to-day I was 
 having the great achievement of bachelor of 
 laws conferred on me. I felt a little above 
 the ordinary, and I had a good right to. The 
 day was over and I was nursing my diploma, 
 the first one I had ever seen of any sort. It 
 felt really sacred. Its touch sent a thrill of 
 joy down every nerve. That night I packed 
 my traps and started for home, with an 
 immense load of grand achievements — to 
 me. 
 
 I got to my station, and my feelings were 
 a little different from what they were on the 
 trip down. I was really able to strut a little, 
 and I would have strutted a great deal, but 
 I never did like to make other folks feel so 
 unimportant. I would be more charitable 
 with my greatness. I would treat them real 
 kind. But I had one reservation in this deter- 
 mination — it was those girls who used to 
 treat me so badly when I was a green country 
 boy. I thought of the times when I wanted 
 to dance with them and when I wanted to go 
 home with them, and when I tried to make 
 
1 66 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 love to them and they wouldn't let me. I 
 thought of these times and I decided to make 
 them feel bad about it. I would treat them 
 as though they were not about. I would go 
 with others and let them nurse their sorrows 
 in the background. If one of them should 
 approach me I would turn my back on her in 
 supreme contempt. I would make them 
 repent a million times for what they did to me 
 in my humbler days. I could see them grop- 
 ing around as though they had lost all their 
 relatives and had lost all the opportunities 
 they never did have of ending their single 
 cussedness. I would let them suffer all that it 
 was possible for them to bear and then I 
 would smile on them encouragingly and make 
 them think there was a little hope yet for 
 them to have an opportunity of basking in the 
 sunlight of my imperial greatness, and prob- 
 ably make them think they had a chance to 
 end my days of single blessedness, and when 
 I would get them away up in the third or 
 fourth heaven of expectation I would let them 
 suddenly fall so hard they would not know 
 which one of the demolished set they be- 
 longed to. Oh, I pictured myself just walking 
 on hearts which did once have a chance of in- 
 teresting me, but now none. But my recollec- 
 tion now is that I failed as utterly as I did 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 67 
 
 before in crushing hearts. I have not found 
 any nursing a sore heart on my account. 
 
 After I left the railway station I began to 
 swell more and more. I hardly thought I 
 would be able to associate with the common 
 crowd with whom I was brought up, but then 
 I thought it would be a right charitable act 
 if I would try to pull them up on the level 
 where I was. 
 
 Just as we got to the top of the hill where 
 this little town could be seen I saw the dome 
 of the old court-house in the distance. A 
 flood of emotion swept over my soul as I 
 looked upon the old building where I must 
 shortly lie — Oh, shucks! I didn't mean 
 that, but no matter, I did it. I intended to say 
 something else, but I have made such a 
 blunder, here I must stop. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Why do people commit crime ? This ques- 
 tion has been thundering down the ages, and 
 will continue to thunder down the ages as long 
 as time shall last, for crime will be committed 
 as long as there is a human being on this 
 terrestrial ball to commit it. There are 
 various reasons why people commit crime. 
 One is a desire for excitement, such as fight- 
 ing, shooting, cutting, drinking and the like. 
 Others commit crime to get money, such as 
 stealing, cheating, robbery, forgery, etc. 
 While there are others who seem to have an 
 insane desire to commit crime just for the 
 sake of committing it. The desire may have 
 been inherited or it may have been the result 
 of wrong training. Many cases have been 
 found where a person steals just for the sake 
 of stealing, not because he wants the stolen 
 article. In many cases the article has been 
 thrown away or destroyed after being stolen, 
 showing that the desire was not the article, 
 but the stealing it was the thing which caused 
 the theft. In such cases the party should not 
 be amenable to the criminal laws of the State, 
 but should be confined in an asylum for such 
 people. 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 69 
 
 But the vast majority of crimes are 
 committed by people who know that the act 
 they are committing is criminal. The act is 
 inspired by an evil intent. The party intends 
 to commit crime when he starts out. It is 
 really hard for one to understand just why 
 any one will commit a crime for profit; in 
 other words, follow a criminal's life as a pro- 
 fession. He must forever have a fear and 
 dread of being caught and punished. He 
 does not live in any peace, he carries his life 
 in his hands, he may be shot down any 
 moment, or he may be landed in the peniten- 
 tiary to serve a term of years at 'hard labor, 
 and yet with all these things many men will 
 undergo hardship trying to wreck a train, or 
 rob a bank, or hold up some one and do ten 
 times more work and then not get half the 
 money they would get if they had worked 
 that length of time at an honest job. To a 
 mind which is not criminal it is hard to under- 
 stand why people will do such things. The 
 criminal is almost always a poor man, he has 
 nothing. The gambler may make ten thou- 
 sand dollars in one night, but it does him no 
 good. He squanders it with his kind. And 
 strange to say, lots of people will steal money 
 to gamble with, and if they lose it they go and 
 steal again, and again gamble it away, or if 
 they happen to win will throw it away in some 
 
170 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 other manner. Just what good a fellow gets 
 out of such an existence as that he only knows, 
 for no honest man can know. 
 
 Then just look what misery and suffering a 
 criminal brings to others as well as himself. 
 There are few criminals but what have near 
 relatives who are honest folk, and when he 
 gets into trouble they are in trouble also try- 
 ing to help him out. They will work and toil, 
 and get up evidence, and spend good hard- 
 earned money to clear the guilty wretch, and 
 when they finally get him out the same thing 
 is reenacted — he goes and breaks the law 
 again. 
 
 Once I was in one of our large cities and a 
 man was brought into court charged with the 
 murder of his wife. It was admitted that he 
 fired the shot which ended her life. She was 
 the mother of seven or eight children from 
 one to sixteen years old. Her husband sus- 
 pected her fidelity to him. One day he saw 
 her in company with her suspected paramour, 
 and whipping out his pistol, in ten seconds she 
 was dead. What a sad sight it was when he 
 was brought into court with the blood of his 
 wife, the mother of his children, on his hands. 
 The husband and father standing before the 
 courts of the country to be tried for a crime 
 which might end his life on the gallows, and 
 the wife and mother sleeping in her grave 
 with bullet holes in her body, and eight 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 17! 
 
 motherless children, as innocent as the morn- 
 ing, in a wrecked home. Can you imagine 
 anything more terrible? What sort of a 
 future is in store for them ? God himself only 
 knows. 
 
 A peep at the lives of these people might 
 shed light upon this horrible scene. Both 
 husband and wife frequenters at the races, 
 putting up money trying to win; associates, 
 jockeys; not a thing in the home which em- 
 phasized morality or religion. Are you sur- 
 prised at the ending? 
 
 Crime, the enemy of mankind, the thing 
 which can be put under foot by the use of a 
 little will power — and yet when turned loose 
 will wreck lives, will wreck homes, will 
 wreck States, and will wreck nations. Who 
 is responsible for its existence? We are. 
 Crime exists because we want it to exist; at 
 least, we do not want it out of the way enough 
 to rise up and put it out of existence. Crime 
 cannot exist where it is not wanted, any more 
 than the polar bear can exist where there is 
 no ice. The good people in any community 
 can band themselves together and put crime 
 out of that community if they only will, and 
 the only reason they do not will to do so is 
 because they are not opposed to it enough. 
 Crime thrives where the moral sentiment is 
 asleep, and crime will continue to thrive as 
 long as the moral sentiment sleeps. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Pain is one thing which seems to have 
 come into the world with the human race, and 
 it will remain here until the last son of Adam 
 is taken hence. There are several kinds of 
 pain. All might, however, be placed under 
 two heads — pains in the mind and pains in 
 the body. Pains in the mind are generally 
 caused by other people doing something 
 wrong, while we are generally responsible for 
 the pains in the body. If we eat too much we 
 are sure to suffer, and may have to call in the 
 doctor for help. This is our own fault and 
 we cannot blame any one for it, though we 
 would like to do so very much. When folks 
 say hard things about us, that usually causes 
 us pains in the mind. A mother sees her boy 
 doing some mean, thing, and that causes her 
 pain in the mind, or heart-pains. Heart- 
 pains are more acute than body-pains. When 
 we have a pain in the body we can take some 
 sort of medicine which usually kills the pain, 
 — sometimes it has to do it by killing the 
 body; but when we have a pain in the heart 
 we must wear it out. And sometimes the 
 heart-pain will wear out the person, and then 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 73 
 
 that person goes to the grave with a broken 
 heart. 
 
 Not long ago a man was hung in one of the 
 States for killing another man. The day he 
 was hung his poor old mother sat in the 
 sheriff's office only a few yards away from 
 where her son paid the penalty for his crime. 
 She could not see him when he fell, but she 
 could almost hear the timbers creaking as his 
 weight fell at the end of the rope. As she 
 sat there in the sheriff's office no doubt she 
 could look back over a few short years to the 
 time when she pressed him tenderly to her 
 heart, an innocent baby. How often she had 
 passed the weary hours listening to his 
 childish prattle. How often had the mother- 
 heart beat with joy at the thought of what 
 she hoped he would be ; but now there she sits 
 in that lonely office in the darkest hour of 
 human existence, waiting for the trap to be 
 sprung which would end his life. Look back 
 yonder at the mother bending tenderly over 
 the cradle of the innocent baby, and now look 
 yonder at the same mother sitting, heart- 
 broken, waiting for his life to be suddenly 
 taken from him. Can you imagine her feel- 
 ings? Boys, when you are tempted to do a 
 mean thing think of this true story. 
 
 The trap is sprung, the body falls, there 
 is a quiver which runs over it, it hangs motion- 
 
174 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 less, the life is gone, all is over. The, mother 
 took the body home and laid it to rest. 
 Though he had been unfaithful and had 
 brought great sorrow upon her, yet she 
 followed him to the end. That love which is 
 planted in the mother-heart when her off- 
 spring sees the light of day never wavered. 
 It is said that now she sits by her lonely fire- 
 side with a broken heart because of her son's 
 misdeeds and his awful death. The pain in 
 her heart will stay there until the gentle hand 
 of a merciful God is placed upon it and 
 commands it to be still. 
 
 When that boy did his first mean trick, if 
 he could have looked down through the com- 
 ing years and foreseen his mother's broken, 
 bleeding heart, do you suppose he would have 
 fired the shot which ended one man's life, and 
 then his own on the gallows? If boys who 
 have fond, loving mothers would only think 
 for a moment what trouble they would cause 
 them by doing mean things I do not think 
 there would be so many men in jail, in the 
 penitentiary, or hung to the end of a rope 
 from the gallows. They should stop and 
 think what trouble they will cause before they 
 do the deed, and then it is more likely it will 
 remain undone. 
 
 A doctor will slay the body-pain with nasty 
 medicine, and not infrequently there is a 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 75 
 
 funeral soon after the pain is slayed, and 
 folks will talk about the pain killing the 
 fellow, and they lie. It was the — oh, well, 
 the fellow's weak constitution, he couldn't 
 stand the strong medicine. So he died, he 
 couldn't help it. Sometimes a fellow will 
 have a pain in his tooth, and then he goes to 
 the dentist, and he has some more pain, in 
 fact, pains, dozens of them. He gets an idea 
 in his head that the best thing to do is to pull 
 the tooth. Then he rams a needle into the 
 gum and squirts some sort of stuff into it to 
 keep the pulling from hurting. Then he gets 
 his tongs, sets his foot on your lower jaw, gets 
 hold of the tooth and twists first'to the right, 
 then to the left, back again, sidewise and 
 cross-wise, and then straight up, and out she 
 comes ! "There, I told you it wouldn't hurt !" 
 And of course it didn't hurt, at least if it did 
 you failed to find it out, for he came so near 
 twisting your head off that your thoughts 
 were centered on that proceeding. 
 
 I had some teeth which were bothering me 
 a whole lot, so I hied myself away to the 
 tooth fixer to have them mended. They had 
 been filled in times past, but the filling had 
 come out. They were front teeth and very 
 close together, in fact so close that only the 
 shadow of the instrument could get between 
 them ; but the doctor was equal to the occa- 
 
176 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 sion. He took a maul and wedge and drove 
 the wedge between the teeth. He said it 
 might be a little unpleasant at first, but the 
 annoyance would pass away during the next 
 part of the operation. He kept on mauling 
 and prising until I thought the thing would 
 burst, and I was vainly hoping that it would, 
 but there was no such luck around anywhere. 
 He said afterward that I groaned, but I 
 think it was a dog under the house snoring; 
 still, I am not certain on this point. It makes 
 no difference anyway. 
 
 After getting the teeth two or three inches 
 apart he brought out an infernal machine 
 which looked like a turning-lathe, and put a 
 bit or auger in it and began to bore. The 
 thing got hot and so did I. It smoked and 
 fumed, and I would have done so, too, if I 
 had not been so busy grunting and groaning. 
 Ever and anon, and sometimes a little 
 oftener, he would take a chisel and gouge 
 around in the hole, and then bore some more. 
 I thought he had a hole which I could have 
 put my foot in. After inflicting all the tor- 
 ment on me he thought my nature could or 
 would bear he began to fill the hole he had 
 bored. He said that would be easy and nice, 
 but he lied, unless he meant it would be easy 
 and nice for him. His assistant would put 
 in the filling and the doctor, with maul and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 77 
 
 crow-bar, packed it in. His mauling re- 
 minded me of bygone days down in Tippah 
 bottom when a sapsucker would perch him- 
 self up on a dead limb and peck for an hour 
 at a time, the only difference being the sap- 
 sucker made a little more noise and a great 
 deal less pain than the doctor did. When he 
 said he was through I had accumulated such a 
 flood of feeling that I was bound to hurry 
 away — without taking time even to pay the 
 bill — and let some of it escape, or Vesuvius 
 would have been repeated right there in that 
 sleepy little village. I began to let off my 
 feelings gradually, then a little faster, and be- 
 fore I was through with the job things around 
 had the odor of burning brimstone. It must 
 have been very much the same as that day will 
 be when the old boy, the ruler down below, 
 suddenly pulls off the lid of torment and the 
 fumes ascend from the bottomless pit. 
 Though I hope I won't be there, yet if I am 
 I will be hardened to it. It would have done 
 the doctor's soul good to stand afar off and 
 witness the performance, and it did me a lot 
 of good to perform; though it would not 
 have been healthy for the doctor to be 
 caught looking at me, for if he had he would 
 have ordered him a brand new coffin shortly 
 afterward, or else my name is not Ketchem- 
 12 
 
178 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 andeatem alivewhodaretolookuponsacred- 
 things, or something like that. 
 
 Should St. Peter put me on the jury to sit 
 on my enemies' cases in the next world I will 
 be bound to do my duty in all cases fairly and 
 impartially, but in all cases in which a fellow 
 is convicted of being a goat and it becomes 
 necessary to impose punishment on him, and 
 the jury of which I am a member has any- 
 thing to do with fixing the punishment, I will 
 be forced to vote that all enemies be turned 
 over to my friend the tooth doctor, with in- 
 structions to forever and eternally fill their 
 teeth, both day and night, even though I am 
 taxed with the whole bill. But now in my 
 serene and calm moments I feel sorter like a 
 criminal for having such thoughts as these, 
 for my teeth have quit hurting, and I feel 
 very much as does a fellow after mashing his 
 finger real badly — I feel good. Really, a 
 fellow never enjoys anything very well unless 
 he experiences considerable pain beforehand. 
 A man elected to office who just walks in with- 
 out opposition, or little opposition, never en- 
 joys it, for he has had no triumph. I love to 
 see a fellow go after anything, and when he 
 meets obstacles ride over them and then look 
 back and laugh at them. He feels good 
 then, 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 I am very conservative in all things — ex- 
 cept when dealing with truth. It is such a 
 good thing that I am very radical on that. I 
 do not like changes unless I can see the good 
 of them. I do not like the new-fangled cus- 
 toms which are taking the place of the old. 
 They don't suit me, and I have the spunk to 
 say so, and if any one doesn't like it he can 
 simply go to — bed. Folks are trying to get 
 up a new way to spell, trying. to change the 
 way the good old reliable tried-and-true Blue 
 Back Speller spelled words long before I was 
 born. The Lord only knows how hard it was 
 for me to learn how to spell once, and that 
 at a time when my mind was tender and sus- 
 ceptible of taking in things without much re- 
 volting; but to learn again! — Pardon me, 
 for if I don't change the subject the nation 
 will be without a President and a millionaire 
 will seek his long-lost home, wherever it may 
 be. Then folks are continually getting up 
 new words, words which Webster never 
 dreamed of; neither did he have any use for 
 them. I have never found use for one-tenth 
 of the words which I find in the dictionary, 
 
l80 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and the idea of getting up new ones is enough 
 to make the saints commit suicide. 
 
 One of the latest foolish words to make its 
 appearance is an infamous conglomeration of 
 letters which sounds like "mollycoddle." 
 Now, who in thunder likes to hear such a 
 word as that, and what use have they for it 
 anyway? I could stand the sound of it all 
 right, if I could stand the meaning. I don't 
 know what it means, and neither does the 
 fool — ish fellow who first used it. When I 
 first saw it it aroused my curiosity, and I have 
 been raking my brains trying to find out what 
 a mollycoddle was, so that when my tank got 
 full of wrath I could call somebody a molly- 
 coddle, and thereby at least put a stop to its 
 accumulation. I searched diligently all the 
 dictionaries, encyclopedias, almanacs, law 
 books, government reports, works of fiction, 
 stray books of all sorts; in fact, I searched 
 through all the books I could lay hands on to 
 find out what a mollycoddle was, and after 
 two months of unnecessary hard work I am 
 still as green on the subject as before. Every 
 day I have been expecting some galoot to call 
 me a mollycoddle, and I long ago decided 
 that if any one should dare to do such a thing 
 he would need ten packs of blood-hounds to 
 trace up and run down his fragments of 
 brain, hide, hair, toe nails, teeth, liver, and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 181 
 
 all the rest of him. There would be no two 
 pieces left hanging together, and no one piece 
 would be big enough to bait a minnow hook. 
 The thing has bothered me no little, for I 
 could not sleep and my appetite was deserting 
 me in great wads. My whole power of con- 
 centration was centered on that blasted thing 
 called mollycoddle, but when I could not find 
 out what it was in books, I began to analyze 
 the thing. It appeared to be composed of two 
 words, "molly" and "coddle." I knew at 
 once what "molly" was, that it has always 
 been the name of a girl, but I didn't know 
 why in the thunder they wanted to use her 
 name in such an infamous way. That part 
 was cleared up at once, I didn't have to 
 examine the dictionary to find that out. But 
 I didn't know what "coddle" was, so I began 
 to search again, and, doggone the luck ! I had 
 not gone three inches until the fool dictionary 
 said "coddle" meant two separate and distinct 
 things. First, it means to "parboil, or soften 
 by the heat of water"; and second, it means 
 "to make much of." So we have this for a 
 mollycoddle: "Molly, to parboil, or soften 
 by the heat of water." That seems to be a 
 mighty poor article for a mollycoddle. Any 
 fool ought to be able to beat that with his 
 eyes shut. But look at the second mess: 
 "Molly, to make much of," or to transpose it 
 
1 82 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 you have this : "To make much of Molly." 
 That is enough to make an angel fall from 
 grace or commit any other high crime or 
 misdemeanor. 
 
 I am still groping in darkness searching for 
 the light, and I don't know where to look any 
 more. To put molly and coddle together it 
 makes a mighty poor combination to palm off 
 on an unsuspecting public, and to separate 
 them is deep-dyed infamy itself. The man 
 who first used that infernal word deserves the 
 bottom row in perdition, and if he doesn't get 
 that I will be greatly disappointed. He ought 
 to suffer all the torments of all the other con- 
 demned spirits in the nether world because of 
 his smartness. Let me change the subject be- 
 fore the world explodes and Jupiter flies 
 away in shame. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A man may be looked upon by the world 
 as being a very fine fellow, and to be sure he 
 may be honest, truthful, sober; in short, he 
 may be an all-round good moral fellow, and 
 yet he may be as black inside as the ace of 
 spades. A man may wear a face before the 
 world which is as good as legal tender, and 
 still be a demon. 
 
 Whatever else a man may be to the world, 
 he is badly wrong if he is not what he should 
 be in his home. A man's home-life tells the 
 manner of man he is, the kind of clay out of 
 which he is made.' Did you ever see a man 
 going around his home with a face as long as 
 a doctor's bill and as sour as last year's 
 vinegar? A man's face generally reflects 
 what is behind it. If he is cross, sour, or ill- 
 tempered, that comes out in his home. If 
 his soul is filled with rollicking fun and sun- 
 shine, that comes out in his home. The most 
 pitiable thing I ever saw in the shape of a 
 human being was a man in his home with a 
 face long enough to eat oats out of the bottom 
 of a five-gallon churn. His life is miserable, 
 and so is his family's. He mopes around like 
 an old setting turkey, and wouldn't smile if 
 
1 84 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 he was paid to do so. He growls, and 
 grumbles, and fusses, and whines, and snaps 
 at everything and everybody. 
 
 Some people are so foolish as to charge 
 God with making such a man. He didn't 
 have a thing in the world to do with it. To 
 be sure, God made his soul and body, but 
 right there his responsibility ceased. The 
 man made his disposition, God had nothing 
 to do with that, and he who charges Him with 
 being responsible for creating such a life 
 charges God with committing a crime. God 
 gave me a good body and a clean soul, and if 
 I am so a-mind to use it as to make a brute of 
 myself no one can charge God with being 
 responsible for it. Just as well charge God 
 with being responsible for the folks who are 
 in torment being lost. I am the architect and 
 builder of my own disposition, influenced to 
 some extent by those by whom I am sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 A man with a bad disposition, however, is 
 always ready to charge some one else with it 
 who had no more to do with it than the man 
 in the moon, and then there are those who 
 seem to delight in their ugly dispositions and 
 see how miserable they can make themselves 
 as well as others. 
 
 _ The man who, figuratively speaking, cuts 
 himself loose from his family, who is not a 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 85 
 
 companion to them, and who spends his days 
 and months and years by himself, is a mighty 
 poor fellow to be entrusted with such an in- 
 stitution as a family. I knew such a case as 
 this once. It was in a town where I was go- 
 ing to school. The family consisted of hus- 
 band and wife and two children, a boy about 
 four years old and a girl about two. These 
 two people had started out in life under the 
 most favorable circumstances. The husband 
 was a merchant and doing a good business, 
 but for the last year or two he had been so 
 much wrapped up in his business affairs that 
 he had grown cold and indifferent toward his 
 family. He was not a companion to them in 
 any sense of the word. Often have I seen 
 his babies follow him to the gate and I have 
 heard them saying, "Bye-by, foddie, turn 
 back and see us," but the cold man would 
 march away as though he did not hear them. 
 In the spring of this year his wife had died, 
 and it was hoped that her death would soften 
 his cold heart, but apparently it didn't. As a 
 long procession of people marched to the 
 cemetery the day she was buried, I could not 
 help, but think that only a few short years 
 back a sweet girl had been taken from a 
 happy home to build one of her own. She 
 thought she was going with one who would 
 always be tender and loving and true to her, 
 
1 86 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 but she found that she had married a man 
 whose heart was as cold as an iceberg. And 
 could it be possible that her disappointment 
 in not finding him to be what she dreamed 
 he was, caused her to go to an early grave 
 with a broken heart? Eternity alone will 
 know. 
 
 Weeks passed into months, and almost 
 every day I saw those motherless babies 
 follow him to the gate with their little bye- 
 byes ; but the cold-hearted man would march 
 away as though they were not in existence. 
 How often have I seen them playing in the 
 back yard in the little play-houses made by 
 the dear mother; but now there is no loving 
 hand to help them in their little plays. The 
 gentle hand which had so often guided them 
 and smoothed out their childish sorrows was 
 still, in the silent grave. As they played there 
 in their little play-houses they looked like two 
 little fairies lost in a dark wilderness. Think 
 of the cold-hearted father reaching out after 
 gain, letting his jewels take care of them- 
 selves. 
 
 One morning I failed to see them any- 
 where. That afternoon they were still miss- 
 ing, and again next morning I missed them. 
 On the third day it was announced that they 
 had diphtheria. On both of these days I saw 
 the father going to his place of business early, 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 87 
 
 in the evening of both days I saw him coming 
 home late, but on the third morning I looked 
 across the street and saw a man entering that 
 home. It made my blood run cold. He 
 carried two little white coffins. What a sad 
 story they told. The angel of mercy had 
 come into that home and had carried the two 
 little flowers to mother. That afternoon they 
 were gently laid to rest by the side of the dear 
 mother. At the funeral it seemed to me the 
 most appropriate song which could have been 
 sung would have been this : 
 
 "If we knew the baby fingers pressed against the window 
 ' pane 
 Would be cold and stiff to-morrow — never trouble us 
 
 again, 
 Would the bright eyes of our darling catch the frown 
 
 upon our brow; 
 Would the print of rosy fingers vex us then as they do 
 now? 
 
 "Ah, these little ice-cold fingers — how they point our 
 mem'ries back, 
 
 To the hasty words and actions strewn along our back- 
 ward track ; 
 
 How these little hands remind us as in snowy grace they 
 lie, 
 
 Not to' scatter thorns, but roses for our reaping by and 
 bye." 
 
 After this I still noticed the man as he went 
 to his place of business. At first he would go 
 away as though nothing had happened, but 
 in a few days, as he approached the gate, his 
 
1 88 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 steps grew slower, and in a few days more, 
 when he would close the gate behind him he 
 would stop, turn around, and seem to be 
 listening. He seemed to be in deep trouble. 
 What was it? Could it be possible that the 
 voices of his babies were at last ringing in 
 his ears? Could he hear their little voices 
 telling him by-bye? Did he expect to see 
 them when he turned around? After a 
 moment's pause he would go away slowly to 
 his place of business. At last his heart was 
 waking up, but too late, too late, the sweet- 
 voiced birds had flown. 
 
 This incident has made me think. While 
 the man had his wife and babies at home with 
 him what was he getting out of life? Just 
 exactly what he was putting in life. He was 
 putting cold, unsympathetic business, busi- 
 ness, only business in life, and this is all he 
 was getting out of it. The sweets of a peace- 
 ful happy home life were not his, for the 
 greed of gain had crowded them out. Could 
 he not have laid aside these things for one 
 hour and got down on the floor with his ba- 
 bies and romped with them, and by doing 
 so have driven out the dull, sickening, tor- 
 menting business life he was leading? I 
 could see him now as he sat by his lonely 
 fireside and imagine that he could hear the 
 prattle of his babies, but he was only sur- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 89 
 
 rounded by ghostly silence. In a few short 
 months he was deprived of what should be 
 the greatest blessing any one can have, a 
 peaceful, happy home, with a loving wife 
 and prattling babies — but now all gone. 
 See him in his lonely solitude as his mind 
 wanders a few blocks away to the cemetery 
 where his wife and babies are peacefully 
 sleeping. What would he give if he could 
 only have them back with him? All that he 
 ever hoped to possess in- this world, if not his 
 chance for eternal happiness in the next. 
 
 This kind of a man never makes a good 
 citizen. He does nothing unless he can see 
 some gain in it for himself. Dollars and cents 
 are the only things of real value to him. All 
 else is trash. He is selfish, and a selfish man 
 never does anything unless it be for himself. 
 Selfishness will freeze out everything in man 
 which is noble. Selfishness is not a natural 
 characteristic, it is acquired. There is but one 
 individual in a community who is worth less 
 than the truly selfish man, and that is the 
 chronic grumbler. Look at him. What good 
 is there in him ? Who can envy him ? What is 
 he worth to the community, to his family, or 
 to himself? What would he sell for if he 
 was placed on the market and sold to the 
 highest bidder for cash? Who will shed a 
 barrel of tears over him when he dies? Who 
 
190 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 will miss him? Oh, lots of people will miss 
 him, miss his never-ending grumbling, for he 
 cannot be in a crowd three minutes without 
 he is growling about something. He ought 
 to be ostracised, he ought to be sent to the 
 cannibal islands and let the man-eaters have 
 him — but they would not 'eat him, or if they 
 did he would sour on their stomachs, probably 
 kill them. 
 
 Every community is afflicted with this 
 human pest. Perhaps it is providential, for it 
 may be that if he was not in the. community 
 cholera would be, or something worse. Just 
 what will become of him when he dies, if he 
 ever happens to such good luck as that, I can- 
 not imagine. St. Peter will not let him get in 
 sight of the gate which leads into the New 
 Jerusalem, and Satan will not tolerate his 
 presence down below. 
 
 He will probably be like Jim Jones, — or 
 some other Jones or Smith, one, — who died 
 and went up to heaven. He knocked on St. 
 Peter's door and St. Peter wanted to know 
 who it was. "Jim Jones from Grumblers- 
 ville," said Jim. "Well, you are at the wrong 
 place," said St. Peter. "You will have to go 
 below." So Jim took the elevator down. 
 When he got down below he knocked on 
 Satan's door and Satan wanted to know who 
 it was. "Jim Jones from Grumblersville," 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 191 
 
 said Jim again. "Well, you can't come in 
 here. You'll have to go to St. Peter for a 
 job." "I have been there already," said Jim, 
 "and he sent me here." "Don't make any 
 difference, you can't come in here," said 
 Satan, "you are too troublesome." Here was 
 a puzzling case for the president of the lower- 
 regions. St. Peter had turned Jim down and 
 Satan could not think of giving him entertain- 
 ment. But the ruler of the lower regions is 
 mighty good in cases of emergency, and can 
 fix up most any sort of accommodation on 
 very short notice, so he said: "Well, Jim, I 
 can't let you in here, but as I am bound to do 
 something for you, I will, in charity alone, do 
 this much. You can take this chunk of fire 
 off down yonder in the wilderness and have a 
 little hell of your own." And there Jim is to 
 this day all by himself, because he was so 
 troublesome. At last accounts Jim's chunk of 
 fire had gone out and winter had come on and 
 he was about to freeze to death. He is very 
 different from your uncle Dives, who is right 
 in the middle of the lake of fire, calling for 
 only a drop of water to cool his parched 
 tongue. Dives has too much fire and Jim too 
 much frost. Since Jim's trip down below I 
 am beginning to believe that there is some 
 truth in Dante's Inferno. He tells about the 
 lower regions freezing over. Perhaps he only 
 found Jim Jones in his banishment, 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 It has always been a debatable question as 
 to who has the hardest time, the husband or 
 the wife, and it has been generally decided in 
 favor of the husband — by men, especially 
 married men. However, the decision has 
 probably been founded upon bias and preju- 
 dice, or perhaps it may have been decided that 
 way because the man didn't know anything 
 about how hard a time the wife generally 
 has. There are those who seem to think she 
 has nothing to do except sit around home and 
 primp and talk about her neighbors, but all 
 such should be forced to do a woman's work 
 at home for just one week, and if they lived 
 through the week they would be converted, or 
 dead, one. In my own case I never really 
 thought much about it until I had a trial. I 
 am now sane on the subject and am competent 
 to render an impartial decision. Now let me 
 tell you my experience and you too will be 
 converted. 
 
 Last Sunday — which was about six months 
 ago- — was preaching day in town, and as the 
 babies did not have any new shoes they could 
 not go, so the good mother or I had to stay at 
 home, and as I thought she needed the service 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 93 
 
 more than I did, she went and I stayed. The 
 days, you know, are awful short, so there was 
 no time to get dinner before going to preach- 
 ing. After the good wife had gone I 
 thought that it was highly probable that she 
 might bring company home with her — and she 
 did — and that dinner would be mighty late 
 if it had to be cooked after she got home. As 
 I wanted to do something grand I thought I 
 might as well try my hand at the business and 
 show them how smart I was — I think now I 
 was too smart. As I had not done such a 
 thing for a number of days, in fact years, 
 I had grave doubts about doing the job just 
 in the manner it should have been done, or 
 in the manner in which it was usually done, 
 but I had the will whether I had the knowl- 
 edge or not. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to get some 
 turnip greens and Irish potatoes. I am an 
 expert at this business, and so it was not long 
 until the pot was boiling away like a steam 
 engine, potatoes, turnip greens, meat and all 
 in one pot. This was a mistake, but I didn't 
 know it. Then I began to think of some 
 other mixture which I could get together 
 which would be palatable, and the only thing 
 I could think of was a rice pudding. We are 
 all fond of that dish, but I was not certain 
 13 
 
194 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 that I understood the job sufficiently well to 
 make it in the latest style ; but that would not 
 be expected, so I tried it. I measured out the 
 rice. I was puzzled to know just how much 
 it would take, but after due consideration I 
 decided that four tea-cupfuls would be just 
 the exact amount. This was another mistake, 
 and I soon found it out. Into a half-gallon 
 pot the rice went, with some water in it. I 
 placed it on the stove and turned my attention 
 to something else. First thing I knew some- 
 thing was running out on the stove, frying 
 and spewing to beat the band. I looked 
 around and rice was all over the stove. I be- 
 gan to dip out, but it spewed up a great deal 
 faster than I could dip it out. It was being 
 poured into the slop-bucket at a tremendous 
 rate, and first thing I knew the slop-bucket 
 was full. The more I dipped out the more 
 there was left. It increased at a very rapid 
 rate. It was running off the stove, down on 
 the floor, through a crack out into the yard. 
 She just kept boiling and I kept dipping out. 
 I had the slop-bucket full, one water-bucket 
 full, the churn, a four-gallon tin bucket and 
 the stove full, and I began to look around for 
 a barrel to fill up. Where the thunder all 
 the stuff came from I don't know ! Finally it 
 occurred to me that it would be good policy 
 to take the darned thing off the stove, and 
 it went sailing over the fence behind the hen- 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 1 95 
 
 house. It fell on an old hound lying in the 
 sun, and he went off across the cotton-patch 
 in mournful numbers and with a scalded side, 
 but I couldn't help it. He had no business 
 being in my way. 
 
 Then I thought of the babies. The baby 
 boy was going out at the gate with one shoe 
 off and crying as if his little heart would 
 break, and the other one was trying to get 
 him back to the house, and the job was so 
 great he, too, had to cry some. I got them 
 straight and by the fire, and then thought of 
 my turnip greens, potatoes, and rice, and 
 when I landed in the kitchen the water was 
 out of the greens, and such a smell never went 
 up from the regions of Erebus; but quicker 
 than thought I had the pot half full of water 
 again, and in due season she was singing away 
 at a merry pace. 
 
 But it was nearly one o'clock, the time 
 when folks usually got home from preaching, 
 and that blasted rice was all over the place, 
 and it simply would not do for the good 
 woman to come home and find such a mess as 
 that. Baby, too, was crying to go to sleep. I 
 grabbed the broom and began to rake the 
 stuff out into the yard. I ran to the hog-pen 
 with two bucketfuls of it, and you think those 
 infernal imps of Satan would not help me 
 out of my trouble by eating it ? But over she 
 went. No time for foolishness. It would 
 
196 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ruin my reputation to be caught, so I flew 
 around as though I had lightning in my heels, 
 and before the clock struck one not a grain of 
 rice could be found on the hill, and baby had 
 been rocked to sleep, and when the good 
 mother came home with company I was 
 sweetly singing "Home, Sweet Home," and 
 listening with considerable satisfaction to the 
 music of my turnip-greens boiling. As I sat 
 down to my greens and potatoes there came a 
 wee small voice from way down in the regions 
 of my aching void, saying, "Where, oh, 
 where is that rice pudding?" I only said, 
 "Hush your infamous growling about such a 
 disgraceful subject." And it hushed. The 
 only thing which kept me from committing 
 suicide while that rice was pouring off of the 
 stove like the water leaping over Niagara was 
 the fact that I didn't think of it until it was 
 too late, and then I was out of the notion. 
 
 So you see that I am converted, and I do 
 hope and trust all my brethren who have 
 tried the doubtful road to bliss through the 
 lane of matrimony will join me in giving the 
 verdict as it should be, in the affirmative, and 
 that hereafter when any one is so low as to 
 propose a discussion of the question as to 
 which one has the hardest time I hope some 
 charitable person will explode a ton of dyna- 
 mite under his feet and blow him into frag- 
 ments of thin air. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 I have found out that writing a book has 
 its drawbacks, as has everything else. A 
 fellow who has no more sense than to attempt 
 to write one and not expect trouble is a monu- 
 mental fool to start with, and a bigger 
 monumental fool before he has finished. 
 When he starts to write his knowledge 
 tank is just slopping over all the time, 
 he can't get it down as fast as it slops 
 over, but by the time he has reached the 
 fiftieth page he finds his tank is not more than 
 half full and it is mighty hard to get it out, 
 and by the time he reaches the hundredth 
 page his head is as empty as a contribution 
 box. Then he encounters so many abomin- 
 able things, things which are continually 
 knocking him off the track. Folks will come 
 in and wreck a fine train of thought which he 
 never can get back on the track, and now and 
 then some ape comes in and tries to read what 
 he is writing. That always makes lightning 
 creep up a fellow's back, and if a fellow 
 should persist in his efforts to read it he would 
 soon be in search of the undertaker, for he 
 would need a coffin. And then a man gets so 
 sick of his job that he could — eat his hat. 
 
198 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Something is forever and eternally getting in 
 his way. It is very much like a blind man 
 running through the woods, he hits every- 
 thing — which he doesn't miss. Thus far I 
 have had a lot of valuable experience. If I 
 had been a Methodist I would have fallen 
 from grace a million times, but as I am not a 
 Methodist I had to take what came with as 
 good grace as I could. 
 
 This morning — which might have been last 
 week, or never — I came near having a 
 serious catastrophe while writing one of my 
 most famous chapters. I was ripping along 
 about Jupiter, and all at once I was conscious 
 of the fact that I had company. In fact, I had 
 been semi-conscious of the fact for some time, 
 but had been so much absorbed on my sub- 
 ject that I paid little attention to it. Two 
 fleas had been bothering me all the morning, 
 ripping and snorting through my socks, in at 
 one hole and out at another, chasing each 
 other around like squirrels. Their actions 
 bothered me no little and ruined some power- 
 ful fine thoughts which were just beginning 
 to take root in the deep soil of my fertile im- 
 agination way back on the creek, which would 
 have come forth in great glory and brought 
 me great wads of filthy lucre many days 
 hence if they had not been wrecked by those 
 infamous enemies of the dog race. Every 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 199 
 
 once in a while I would stamp my foot to keep 
 them quiet, and they would suspend action 
 for a second or two ; but just as I started on 
 some grand flight of word painting here they 
 would go like a cyclone through the ruptured 
 parts of my socks. I got tired of this fool- 
 ishness and said so. Down I went and turned 
 my sock down over my shoe-top, swearing 
 vengeance — at least swearing — on the pesky 
 varmints. Just as I got my sock flopped down 
 I saw one of them about half way through a 
 hole in my sock, and I nailed his off hind' leg. 
 He gave a mighty hop and jerked me clear 
 through the hole after him, but I held on with 
 a death-grip. My nose was the first member 
 which hit the floor, and for two seconds it 
 was as flat as a fritter, but I held on. Over 
 the floor we went, kicking over chairs, table, 
 and everything else which dared to get in the 
 way. My head bumped against the door, 
 desk, chairs, boxes, book-cases and the wall, 
 and all the hide was peeled off of my elbows 
 and knees, but still I hung on. Round and 
 round we went, but I was always behind. I 
 could feel my grip giving way, and though I 
 yelled for help none came. I began to get 
 dizzy, my head whirled around, I saw stars 
 and Mars and all the balance of the celestial 
 world in less time than it takes to tell it, but 
 the race could not stop. He was getting des- 
 
200 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 perate, and so was I. He bucked and ca- 
 vorted, snorted and bellowed like a mad bull. 
 My only hope for salvation seemed to be that 
 a leg would pull off, and I thought if that was 
 done he might go to grass. I was afraid to 
 turn him loose in his present state of mind, 
 for fear he would turn and rend me. At last, 
 while sailing around the room, my head 
 struck the jam, I was senseless as a loon, and 
 he got away. In about four hours I came to 
 and it looked as though a cyclone had visited 
 the office. I was torn and bruised from head 
 to foot, and the only clothing I had on was a 
 battered — lip. 
 
 I have not got my imagination on straight 
 yet, and my brain wobbles around as though 
 it was drunk; and then sometimes it won't 
 wobble at all, it just stands still like a balky 
 mule. I think I shall be forced to turn some 
 more fleas in to roust the thing up a bit. 
 Something must be done or I will be bound 
 to stall. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 We are going somewhere all the time. We 
 never stop. The moment the baby opens his 
 innocent eyes he begins his journey from the 
 cradle to the grave. The journey may be 
 only a short distance, it may only reach the 
 first mile-post when fond father and mother 
 may be called upon to witness the closing of 
 the bud which has just burst into a beautiful 
 flower. And then again it may stretch out 
 over the space of three score years and ten, 
 and not infrequently to four score years, 
 and then occasionally it reaches four score and 
 ten, and now and then it touches five, but this 
 is exceedingly rare. And then when the little 
 span has been traveled from the cradle to the 
 grave the journey through eternity is begun, 
 which will never end. There is no such thing 
 as stop. Way back in the beginning, as each 
 part of creation was finished, it was set in 
 motion and it has been moving ever since. 
 The earth, the sun, the moon, the stars, and 
 all the planets were started on their ceaseless 
 journey through the heavens, and they con- 
 tinue on their journey and will continue until 
 the Creator shall call time on them. Man 
 was started on his journey and he has been 
 
202 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 going from youth toward old age all these 
 thousands of years. 
 
 During the journey along life's way we go 
 to different places. Some go to the farm, 
 some to the factory, some to the store, some 
 to the office, some down into the bowels of 
 the earth to bring forth precious minerals, 
 some go about doing good, relieving suffering 
 and pain, while others go about causing suf- 
 fering and pain; some go to places to be 
 made better and others go to places of de- 
 bauchery, crime, shame, and misery. Some 
 are going to do great things and never do 
 anything, while others move along in the even 
 tenor of their way, doing the little things 
 which come in their way, and first thing you 
 know they are called great. 
 
 It is indeed interesting when one is travel- 
 ing to watch and note the different kinds of 
 people one sees. One sees all kinds. Last 
 fall I started to the railroad station on my 
 way to Memphis, and I determined to study 
 as many people as I could. Landed in H. S. 
 forty-five minutes before train-time, I de- 
 cided to get a lunch before taking the train, 
 so McD.'s place was visited. Waiting for 
 steak to cook; two lonely young girls sat at 
 the table opposite, going home; sad faces; 
 did not talk much ; now and then a tear would 
 steal down their cheeks; could hear broken 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 203 
 
 bits of conversation; found out they were 
 going home from school; their mother had 
 died very suddenly, and they were reproach- 
 ing themselves for being away and their good 
 mother toiling her life away working that 
 they might remain in college until they had 
 finished; if they could only call back a little 
 time they would stay at home with her, but 
 now it's too late, mother is gone. Sad story 
 to tell, but being repeated almost every day 
 somewhere. Many a good mother has given 
 her life a willing sacrifice for her daughters, 
 and they have grown up without ever think- 
 ing what a sacrifice she has made for them. 
 They fail to appreciate what she has been to 
 them until they hear the dull thud of the clods 
 falling upon her coffin, forever hiding her 
 weary and worn body from earthly vision. 
 Many a girl has never dreamed of what home 
 would be when mother was gone, and then it 
 is too late to mend her ways. 
 
 On the train to Memphis ; landed there at 
 9 P. M. ; depot crowded as usual; afraid of 
 pickpockets, though I had nothing to pick ex- 
 cept the pockets, but lost no time in getting 
 to Fransiola — that is a hotel, not a man ; did 
 not sleep much, too much noise for a country 
 fellow; next morning in the park, where I 
 saw all sorts; folks had not come to their 
 places of business, so I looked around a bit; 
 
204 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 one poor old fellow had got lost; was on his 
 way to Oklahoma, where he was going to 
 live with his son; had left his old home in 
 Alabama ; had to, his wife was dead and the 
 children all scattered. Poor old soul would 
 much rather have been in the grave beside 
 his wife than go to the far-away West; 
 knew things would not suit him; asked if I 
 would show him the car which went to the 
 union depot ; of course I would, but he could 
 not leave for two hours, so we sat down and 
 talked. He became very confidential, as peo- 
 ple will who are in trouble and can get some 
 one to listen to them; said he had lived his 
 three score years and ten and nearly four on a 
 red hill in Alabama ; had married, and raised 
 eight children; his wife was dead, and chil- 
 dren all gone from the old home and from his 
 native State ; he had sold his old home where 
 he and his bride of fifty years ago had 
 started to house-keeping and where all his 
 children were born and raised, and now he 
 was going to a strange land, going to move 
 for the first time in over half a century. 
 "Pardner, I had forty times ruther go to my 
 grave and sleep peacefully by the side of my 
 wife than to go where I am going," the poor 
 old soul said. "No one back there in old 
 Allybammy to tend Mary Jane's grave; she 
 died last year, and every day since then I 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 205 
 
 have put some flowers on her grave, but now 
 no one there to do it. Say, stranger, I have 
 been in some purty hard places, but this is the 
 hardest of all my life; but one good thing, 
 it won't be long until it will all end; but I'd 
 a liked to have stayed there the balance of my 
 days if for no other purpose than to put 
 flowers on her grave. She was a good woman 
 and true as ever was found, and you don't 
 know how it is tearing my old heart out to go 
 away from her now ; but I reckon you don't 
 care nothing about an old man's whining, so 
 no more." He wiped a tear from his brown 
 cheeks. I could not help but contrast his pres- 
 ent stage in life with mine. He was an old 
 man and his hair turned to snow, and his 
 shoulders stooped with the storms of years; 
 his wife gone from him and his children scat- 
 tered; he was nearing the end of his earthly 
 journey ; all for which he had to live was in 
 the past, while I was in the vigor of young 
 manhood, with a happy home, with wife and 
 babies to greet me on my return. All the joys 
 of life before me. 
 
 As the old fellow talked I could see his 
 humble home among the pines on the hill 
 in Alabama; see his young wife and him- 
 self building their happy home; see him as 
 he came home in the evening after the day's 
 work was done, and see her running out to 
 
206 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 meet him; see him as he placed his arm 
 around her and together they walked up to 
 the little cabin home in the twilight, the hap- 
 piest beings on earth; and then later on see 
 the little ones as they romped over the hills 
 in their innocence, and then saw them reach 
 young manhood and womanhood; saw them 
 leave the old home one by one until the 
 last was gone; saw them leaving their 
 native State for a better home; saw the 
 old people as the last child had gone as 
 they sat around the humble hearthstone 
 dreaming and living over the past; saw the 
 silver as it began to make its appearance in 
 their hair; saw them as they were gently 
 gliding down the western side of the hill of 
 life, rapidly toward the sunset; saw death 
 enter for the first time that happy home and 
 take therefrom the aged wife and mother; 
 saw gentle hands and loving hearts tenderly 
 lay her away to rest until the great day when 
 she would come forth in the glorious beauty 
 of youth once more ; saw the poor, old, heart- 
 broken husband sell his little cabin home and 
 his hilly acres where so many thousand joys 
 had come to him; saw him leave that home 
 for the last time; saw him close the little 
 rickety gate for the last time with almost ten- 
 der, loving care; saw him drive to the rail- 
 way station and leave for his distant home in 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 207 
 
 the West; and the old man saw it too, for 
 the tears coursed down his furrowed cheeks. 
 Sad, isn't it? Yes, sad, and who could blame 
 the old fellow for not wanting to leave ? The 
 time had come for him to leave, so I assisted 
 him to his car, and as he boarded it, with a 
 trembling hand-shake he was gone. 
 
 It set me a-thinking. How many boys and 
 girls to-day disregard the tender feelings of 
 those who have given them life and being, 
 who have tenderly and devotedly watched 
 over them all these long weary years without 
 complaining; how much they owe them, and 
 at the last make them, almost force them, 
 from all the sacred memories which bind 
 them to the past. Shame on such ! 
 
 Almost at the same hour my train pulled 
 into the station — one, two, three, four, five 
 pistol shots rang out on the air, and a wife 
 and mother lay weltering in her own blood, 
 her husband the slayer, perhaps all done with- 
 out a cause; the mother lying in her grave, 
 the husband and father lodged in the jail, the 
 little ones turned loose perhaps to go astray. 
 As the sun is going to rest in the evening no 
 fond father's steps are heard coming home, 
 no mother there; the hand which once 
 smoothed out the childish sorrows cold in 
 silent death. Awful, awful to contemplate, 
 yet true ! 
 
208 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Going, going! Where? Just look at the 
 blear-eyed, red-nosed, bloated crowd and ask 
 them where they are going — going from bad 
 to worse, and from worse to an eternal tor- 
 ment; going, going at a rapid rate. Some 
 going to the saloon, some going to places of 
 debauchery, some going to the races, some go- 
 ing where there is sorrow and trouble to be 
 relieved, all going somewhere. Stop one mo- 
 ment and ask where before going farther, for 
 it may be that if you take that step it will be 
 your last. It may mean your earthly and 
 eternal ruin. Going, going, but be sure you 
 know the place, for when the end is reached 
 you cannot retrace the steps taken to right the 
 wrongs, if you have been so unfortunate as 
 to commit any. 
 
 After attending to the business which had 
 called me there, back to the depot at 7 P. M., 
 homeward bound. The same hustling, bus- 
 tling crowd, some going and some coming. 
 A train comes in from Arkansas over the Iron 
 Mountain. A crowd disembarks and files into 
 the depot. A weakly, crying baby attracts 
 my attention. I look round and behold one 
 of the most pathetic sights ever seen. A 
 mother prematurely aged and three little chil- 
 dren enter. I can not describe them as they 
 were. The poor mother sat down on the first 
 seat she reached, utterly exhausted, children 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 200. 
 
 all crying. They were hungry and ragged. 
 The worn-out mother burst into tears. A 
 big, hearty policeman approaches and inquires 
 the cause of her distress. It is told, a short, 
 sad story. 
 
 Two years before she and her husband and 
 children had sold their little home on a hill 
 in one of the poor east-Mississippi counties 
 and had gone to Arkansas to live. Nearly 
 everything they had had been spent in finding 
 a suitable location. The first year they made 
 a pretty fair crop, but the second year a 
 drouth struck that part of Arkansas in June, 
 and before the end of the month their crop 
 with others was completely ruined, burned up. 
 Not the sign of hope to make anything. The 
 husband procured work at a sawmill, and 
 managed to support his family until, in the 
 latter part of August, he took the Arkansas 
 fever. Day after day the fever raged, and 
 day after day found him with less strength. 
 It was soon seen that there was no hope for 
 his recovery. He died. The heart-broken 
 wife, who had almost killed herself nursing 
 him during his illness, set about to carry his 
 body back to their old neighborhood in east 
 Mississippi. She sold everything they had 
 which would bring a cent, and she had barely 
 enough money to buy their tickets. They had 
 14 
 
2IO SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 arrived in Memphis and not a thing had they 
 eaten since leaving Arkansas, and not a cent 
 did she have with which to buy anything. 
 She had not more than finished her sad story 
 until a big fat drummer had his hat going 
 lively through the crowd taking up a collec- 
 tion for the relief of this unfortunate, broken 
 family, and in less than twenty minutes nearly 
 one hundred dollars had been collected. You 
 can better imagine the feelings of that poor 
 mother than I can describe them when the 
 money was turned over to her. She was so 
 overcome that she had to be removed to a 
 room for attention. My train was announced 
 and soon I was thundering away for home. 
 
 Again I had seen an object-lesson, and I 
 was thinking. I saw a humble home in an 
 east Mississippi county in which reigned love, 
 laughter, and song. There was the music of 
 prattling children, there was the song of the 
 happy mother as she went about her daily 
 work, there was the big-hearted, sturdy, 
 though poor, father. At eventide, when the 
 day's work was done, all would gather 
 around the hearthstone of that humble home, 
 where true, genuine happiness reigned. But 
 now the father is being carried home, a 
 corpse, the mother broken in spirit and 
 health, and the children miserable. Imagine 
 the feelings of that unfortunate woman as 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 211 
 
 she thought of her return to the scenes of so 
 many happy days, but now going back with 
 nothing but a memory of the past. 
 
 No one knows how much misery there is in 
 the world until one gets out and looks for it, 
 and one doesn't need to look very far either to 
 find it. A man will sit down on a red hill and 
 dig six days in a week almost the year round, 
 and he often thinks of what a hard time he is 
 having and how little there is in life for him ; 
 but when he goes home and sees dirty, 
 ragged, romping children with stomachs 
 which can digest a mill-rock and a wife who 
 could knock John L. senseless, a family with 
 never a care, his idea of his hard life ought to 
 desert him. If a man can furnish himself 
 and family with enough to eat three times a 
 day and enough to wear, and he raises his 
 children away from the city where they could 
 learn so many evil ways, he ought to live a 
 peaceful, happy life; and when he comes to 
 cross over the chilly waters he should not 
 have any fears of an adverse decision when 
 St. Peter comes to> pass on his case as to 
 whether he shall be admitted or whether he 
 shall be sent below. Such people as these are 
 the very salt of the earth. From them have 
 sprung the great majority of men and women 
 who have moulded this grand and glorious 
 civilization which we to-day enjoy. How- 
 
212 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ever, it is mighty easy to think high and talk 
 high on this subject and point out what great 
 happiness there is in such a life, but the fel- 
 low who does the talking could not live that 
 sort of life to save his soul. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 One day when I was going through the 
 country to a distant town I stopped at a cabin 
 out of a shower. The house consisted of one 
 room fifteen feet square with a side shed to 
 it. I found the occupants of that home to be 
 an old one-legged Confederate soldier, his 
 cat and his dog. He was an entire stranger 
 to me and I to him, but that made very little 
 difference to him. He had as soon talk to a 
 stranger as any one else, it was all the same 
 to him. He talked of anything and every- 
 thing which came into his mind, with very 
 little sense in any of it. The shower con- 
 tinued and I continued to be a prisoner in the 
 old man's hut, listening to his nonsense. 
 Though he talked a great deal he said 
 nothing; that is, he did not say anything 
 which was worth listening to, except perhaps 
 it was interesting to himself. I always liked 
 to hear the old soldiers talk war, so I asked 
 him where he lost his leg. 
 
 He said he left it in the Wilderness. At 
 the mention of war the old man's foolishness 
 ceased and he grew serious and thoughtful. 
 He told me why he enlisted. When the war 
 broke out he was a young man full of hope 
 
214 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and patriotism, and he enlisted. He left his 
 sweetheart at home. She promised to be true 
 to him until the war should end, and when he 
 came home she would be his, though he came 
 without legs or arms and though his body 
 was full of bullet holes ; but she was not true 
 to her word. He had not been gone a year 
 until she became the wife of a "bush- 
 whacker," and from that time on he went 
 into the most daring places, courting death. 
 He had nothing to live for, but the only re- 
 lief he got was the loss of one leg. After the 
 war closed he went back home and built a 
 cabin, and had lived in obscurity since, with 
 no other companions than his cats and dogs. 
 He made his own living, and said he would 
 starve before he would either go to the sol- 
 diers' home or receive a pension. He seemed 
 to enjoy his solitude and poverty, though he 
 welcomed company of any sort. What be- 
 came of his erstwhile sweetheart he did not 
 say, and I thought it too painful to ask. He 
 told me the following story : 
 
 When the war broke out with Mexico 
 there was a little cottage home located in the 
 pine hills of a north Mississippi county. Sur- 
 rounding this little cottage was a small farm 
 which produced the means of support for this 
 family, which consisted of husband and wife 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 215 
 
 and a baby boy two years old. If paradise 
 was ever on earth it was in this cottage home. 
 One day there was a meeting of the citi- 
 zens of the community at a country store near 
 this home, and this young farmer was there. 
 The object of the meeting was to form a com- 
 pany of volunteers to join General Taylor's 
 army to invade Mexico. The young farmer 
 was one of the first to volunteer. Apparently 
 he had not thought of leaving his happy 
 home until after he had left the meeting, and 
 when the thought came to him, brave fellow 
 though he was, and true, he could not help 
 regretting the move; but the honest fellow 
 went home and unbosomed all to his wife. 
 It was crushing her heart to see him leave, 
 but she did not try to keep him back, and he 
 went. The thought that perchance he might 
 be left a corpse on the battlefield in that far- 
 off land did not seem to enter her mind; but 
 the first night after he had bid them a 
 loving farewell, as the shades of night began 
 to gather and the wind was sighing in the 
 pines on the hill, the thought came to her that 
 perhaps she had seen his manly form and face 
 for the last time, and as little Benny, her baby 
 boy, lay peacefully sleeping in his cradle, the 
 troubled mother began to pace the floor with 
 anxious tread. The faint rays of the sun be- 
 gan to light up the eastern sky before the 
 
2l6 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 troubled spirit was composed enough to find 
 refuge in sleep. Night after night the same 
 scene was enacted. Sometimes in her fitful 
 sleep she could see him wounded on the field 
 and hear him calling for her, and again she 
 could see him in that tropical climate sick 
 and no one to minister to him. She easily 
 convinced herself that something had hap- 
 pened to him or that something would hap- 
 pen. He had been gone two months and she 
 had received only one letter, which was writ- 
 ten on his way to Mexico. 
 
 Sometimes at night she would sit on the 
 doorsteps with little Benny and listen to the 
 sighing wind in the trees, and vainly hope for 
 her husband's return. How many nights 
 after the day's work was done had she and 
 her husband spent listening to the wind 
 moaning in the trees, and not one shadow, 
 not one cloud had ever darkened their home ; 
 but now the faithful husband was in far-off 
 Mexico and news might come any day that 
 his life had been sacrificed for his country. 
 
 Talk of the horrors and hardships of war, 
 what can equal that which the wife and 
 mother was experiencing waiting, patiently 
 waiting for news to come from her loved one 
 a thousand miles and more from home ? One 
 day she received a letter from him. It was 
 dated the day before the now-famous battle 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 217 
 
 of Buena Vista was fought. On the morrow, 
 the letter stated, he would engage in his first 
 real battle. The letter only increased her 
 dread, for on the morrow he would be ex- 
 posed to the shot and shell of the enemy, and 
 now as the battle had been fought for a 
 month it may be that her husband was among 
 the slain. One day, long after the bloody 
 battle of Buena Vista had been fought and 
 won, there came a letter written in a strange 
 hand, having been written by a neighbor who 
 had gone with her husband. It was opened 
 with trembling hands; it was short, what a 
 sad story it told ! Just as the glorious victory 
 had been won a stray bullet had entered his 
 heart. Next day he and the other killed were 
 buried. The suspense was over. The brave 
 fellow was sleeping in a far-distant land and 
 buried without the farewell touch of loving 
 hands. After the first flood of tears the 
 brave woman began ways and means of pro- 
 viding for herself and baby boy, now her all. 
 Day by day she toiled and labored and 
 worked the little farm, and by close economy 
 and hard work she managed to make a living 
 for them both. Winter came and went, sum- 
 mer and fall likewise, and the boy grew, and 
 soon was able to lift part of the burdens from 
 his mother's shoulders. After the day's work 
 was done she would sit with him on the door- 
 
2l8 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 step where so many happy hours had been 
 spent, and there she would tell the boy of the 
 brave father who had gone to far-off Mexico 
 and there had given his life for his country. 
 The boy grew rapidly, and at the age of six- 
 teen he was a tall, manly fellow, and how he 
 did remind the mother of the father. Since 
 the days when the young father had marched 
 away to join General Taylor nothing had 
 happened to cast a shadow over that once- 
 happy home. But before the year i860 had 
 dawned there were low, muttering thunders 
 in the distance which foretold an approach- 
 ing storm. The South saw it and the North 
 saw it. It was slowly rising, and the most 
 lion-hearted felt the greatest anxiety. 
 
 The South began to talk of secession and 
 the North of coercion. Lincoln's election 
 had caused great excitement at the South, and 
 before he was inaugurated several States in 
 the South had passed ordinances of secession. 
 Fort Sumter had been fired on, and a declara- 
 tion had gone forth that the North and South 
 were on the eve of a bloody war. 
 
 The same little cottage home was standing 
 among the pines on the hill. Time had 
 partly healed the wounds inflicted in the 
 Mexican war. Happiness once more filled 
 the cottage home. One day in the spring of 
 1 861, at the same country store where fifteen 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 219 
 
 years before the company was organized to 
 assist in the invasion of Mexico, there was 
 another meeting of the citizens of that com- 
 munity for the purpose of organizing a com- 
 pany to join the Confederate forces, and 
 Benny was there. He was one of the first to 
 volunteer to join the company. Great en- 
 thusiasm prevailed at the meeting. In the 
 excitement of the meeting it is little wonder 
 that Benny never thought of leaving his dear 
 mother. Imagine his feelings as he was go- 
 ing home when the thought suddenly came to 
 him for the first time that if he went to the 
 war he must leave his mother. The thought 
 made him heart-sick, and he sat down on the 
 road-side trying to settle the question as to 
 what his duty was. He would go home and 
 talk it over with his mother. As he ap- 
 proached the little cottage home just as the 
 sun was going down, the mother was sitting 
 on the steps waiting for his return. She saw 
 trouble on his fair face. He sat by her and 
 there in the twilight he told her of his desire 
 to join the army and fight for his country, and 
 also of his desire to remain at home and pro- 
 tect her. He was between two duties and it 
 was almost costing him his soul to decide. 
 The good mother reasoned that if she kept 
 her boy back it would not only be an act of 
 selfishness on her part, but also an act of cow- 
 
220 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ardice. Then if her boy should leave her 
 and join the army she could look down the 
 stream of time and see his bones bleaching on 
 the battlefield, and she all alone in the cottage 
 home. How should she decide ? She proved 
 herself the Spartan mother that thousands of 
 others did, and said, "Go, my boy, and may 
 Heaven bring you back to me again safe and 
 sound." 
 
 Here is where the greatest battles of the 
 war were fought, when fond mothers pressed 
 their boys to breaking hearts, for all they 
 knew the last time. After a few days' drill- 
 ing at the country store the company was 
 ready to march away and join the Confeder- 
 ate forces. Oh, that last night at home, the 
 mother with her only boy ! On the morrow 
 he would march away, perhaps never more to 
 return. Going out from the little cottage 
 home — was it for the last time ? That is just 
 what thousands- of other brave soldier-boys 
 did. What words of love and tender affec- 
 tion were exchanged on that last night in that 
 home among the pines ! Sleep was banished. 
 Morning dawned at last. It was the ap- 
 pointed hour for parting. The sunny-haired 
 boy was tenderly pressed to a breaking heart, 
 a long last farewell kiss, and the soldier-boy 
 marched down the little steps, out down the 
 walk leading to the gate, down the road 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 221 
 
 toward the country store to meet his com- 
 pany. He was gone. Mother alone. The 
 light had gone out from that home. And it 
 had gone out of thousands of other homes 
 in that fair Southland. Tell me not of battles 
 fought with shot and shell, there never was 
 such a battle fought as was fought by that 
 Spartan mother as she saw her only boy, her 
 all, leave, and for all she knew never more 
 would she behold his manly face. Husband 
 and father sleeping on the battlefield of old 
 Buena Vista, where no loving hands could 
 scatter flowers on his grave, if perchance he 
 had any grave; and now just as the buds 
 were bursting into the flowers of young man- 
 hood the boy was gone. 
 
 Imagine if you can that first night after 
 the soldier-boy had marched away. The 
 mother saw the cradle over which she had 
 bended a thousand times and sung sweet 
 lullabies to the sleeping infant, and on this 
 first night of his absence with what tenderness 
 she viewed it, empty. Here and there were 
 little things, toys of his childhood, which re- 
 minded her so much of the absent boy. For 
 the first night in his life she missed the good- 
 night kiss. Did the mother-heart quail in 
 that hour ? The wonder is not that it quailed, 
 but the wonder is that it did not break. 
 Hour after hour she sat there staring into the 
 
222 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 open fireplace, her thoughts fixed on her ab- 
 sent soldier-boy. 
 
 Ah, if the powers which be could have 
 looked into the homes of this country from 
 which soldier-boys had gone to fight for their 
 country and could have seen the anxious tread 
 of mothers as they paced the floor at the hour 
 of midnight in sleepless agony because of ab- 
 sent boys, the swords would have been 
 sheathed and the muskets would have been 
 returned to their racks, and not one gun 
 would have been fired in that awful war. 
 Principles and everything else would have 
 been swept aside in order that the troubled 
 mother-hearts might be eased. I can readily 
 understand how a man can march out on the 
 battlefield and become a target for the enemy, 
 but it is far beyond my comprehension to 
 understand how a mother can sit night after 
 night, and day after day, in the awful sus- 
 pense of waiting for news to come from her 
 only boy who is out yonder on the battlefield 
 being shot at as though he was a mere toy. 
 The mother who can stand that stands more 
 than any soldier on the field ever stood. And 
 the wonder is how the dear mother whose 
 husband had laid down his life in one war 
 and her only boy had just left home to en- 
 gage in another stood it at all. Heroism only 
 gives a faint idea of its meaning. But the 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 223 
 
 faithful boy never forgot his mother, and at 
 every opportunity he would send her a letter, 
 if only half a dozen lines. How eagerly she 
 watched the mails, and with what eagerness 
 she opened his letters and read them ! When 
 he had the time he would dwell on the fights 
 he had been in, and though he was one of the 
 youngest in the company he had often been 
 praised by his captain for his bravery, and the 
 dear mother would think for hours of the 
 glory her soldier-boy was winning ; but when 
 in her dreams she could see him lying on 
 yonder battlefield bleeding and dying and 
 she not there to comfort him, all the glory he 
 was winning would fade away. 
 
 One year had come and gone and thus far 
 he had escaped injury. Two years had 
 passed and still he was safe, and now he had 
 entered the third year of service, and how 
 many prayers went up to God from that 
 humble cottage home for the safety of her 
 boy! This year passed and no harm had 
 come to him, though the letters which came 
 telling her of his hardships and privations 
 and how he longed for the end to come that 
 he might return home brought fresh grief to 
 the already burdened heart. The dawn of 
 1865 came, and with it nearly all could see 
 the end of the struggle, for the Confederacy 
 was tottering on its base. The Federals had 
 
224 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 control of the entire Mississippi River and 
 practically all the harbors on the coast. The 
 enemy was closing in on Richmond, and Gen- 
 eral Lee was planning his escape from there 
 that he might join Johnston's army. With 
 desperate resistance he was able to keep Grant 
 back, but at every attack Lee lost numbers 
 of his half-starved and ragged men. What a 
 pathetic sight indeed his men presented; 
 everything gone save their courage and their 
 honor. The world has never seen such an- 
 other spectacle as that of Lee's starving army 
 marching from Richmond. At every oppor- 
 tunity Grant's men would make an attack, 
 and at each many of the poor starving boys 
 fell. It was in this state of affairs that Lee 
 said that it would be murder to keep up the 
 struggle longer. It was in these days that 
 many half-starved, ragged veterans could al- 
 most see the lights of home; see loved ones 
 from whom they had been separated for 
 years, see themselves return to their homes 
 and rebuild once more the grandeur of the 
 once fair Southland. The great general of 
 the Confederate army saw the uselessness of 
 keeping up the struggle and offered his sword 
 to Grant. 
 
 The mother in the cabin home is begin- 
 ning to count the days when her boy will re- 
 turn home. How many trips she makes to 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 225 
 
 the door each day looking for his return ! At 
 night she retires with the conviction that on 
 the morrow he would return during the day. 
 Soon after Lee's surrender she saw the sol- 
 diers passing on their way home, after being 
 paroled. Desolation and despair were on 
 every hand. Here and there the blackened 
 ruins of once happy homes; here and there 
 the ashes of pnce nourishing towns. Fields 
 grown up in briers and bushes, fences burned, 
 hardly one thing now left which resembled 
 the country of four years before. 
 
 The soldiers passing by houses were 
 stopped and asked about loved ones in the 
 army. The lone mother in the cottage home 
 among the pines began to ask each band of 
 soldiers if they knew anything of her Benny. 
 They did not. The passing soldiers grew 
 fewer and fewer each day, until now only two 
 or three would pass. What agony the poor 
 mother suffered when she was told by the 
 soldiers that they knew nothing of her boy. 
 What sleepless nights she spent, what anxious 
 days. One day in May the tired, weary 
 mother was sitting on the doorstep just at 
 sunset thinking of the day when her boy had 
 gone away. She saw his manly form as he 
 walked down the little steps, down the walk, 
 out at the gate, and down the road. It 
 iS 
 
226 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 seemed that a century had passed since that 
 day. She was completely absorbed in her 
 thoughts and did not see the peg-leg soldier 
 coming up the dusty road. He is even with 
 the gate ere she raises her eyes. He has 
 stopped. She sees him as one in a dream. 
 She does not recognize the battered soldier, 
 but she knows he is a soldier. Perhaps he 
 knows something of her Benny. She bounds 
 to the gate. The soldier is surprised that 
 she does not know him. It is Jamie, a soldier 
 boy who had gone out with Benny. Jamie 
 reads the question in the mother's eyes and 
 she reads the answer: "Almost at the same 
 time the Stars and Bars were being lowered 
 over the fallen Confederacy a stray bullet en- 
 tered Benny's heart and ended his life," is 
 what she hears. The suspense is -over, the 
 news is too much, the poor mother sinks to 
 the ground, and before she can be removed 
 to her room the brave spirit has gone to join 
 husband and son in that world where there 
 are no more wars. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 The scientific doctor-man is a wonderful 
 invention, and a very welcome helper in time 
 of need, but sometimes we are mistaken as to 
 whether we need him or not. In such cases 
 it requires considerable diplomacy to be a 
 successful scientific doctor r man. One has to 
 be very cautious or he will slip a few cogs 
 in his profession. Sometimes a fellow gets 
 mighty sick and there is not a thing in the 
 world the matter with him, but the doctor- 
 man has to doctor on him just the same as 
 though he was ready to ford the Jordan for 
 another country, either a better one or one 
 not so good. It takes skilful work on the 
 doctor-man's part to keep him from going. 
 When he gets hold of this sort of patient he 
 really has to lie, at least he has to act one, if 
 he doesn't tell one. He can't afford to tell 
 the fellow there is nothing the matter with 
 him, for should he do so he would not only 
 be turned off, but he might get his head 
 knocked off, and there are none who desire 
 either treatment. 
 
 I knew an old woman who got in a very 
 critical condition. She had an ailment un- 
 known to the medical world or any other. 
 
228 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 She sent for the doctor. He came and took 
 an inventory of her disorders, but found 
 everything in working order, except her im- 
 agination. She thought she was badly af- 
 flicted, but the doctor didn't think so, but he 
 had too much sense to say so. He told her 
 he did not have the right sort of medicine 
 she needed, but that he was going to town 
 next day and he would get it. She asked him 
 if it was a combination of snake-root and 
 some other sort of mess which she named, 
 and the doctor told her it was. She knew she 
 was right and that the mixture would roust 
 her out in little or no time. Next day the 
 doctor went to town, and after attending to 
 the business which had called him there, 
 started for home. He had gone nearly five 
 miles when he thought of the old woman's 
 medicine. He had forgotten all about it. 
 What would he do ? He could not afford to 
 tell her he had forgotten it, nor could he af- 
 ford to tell her there was none in town. She 
 was too shrewd to lie to, for she might catch 
 him, and then thunder would be to play. He 
 rode along the road with a heavy heart. 
 Finally a noble thought entered his mind. 
 He passed by an old log which was decayed 
 and it was dry. He got down and got a 
 handful of the log and crumbled it to pow- 
 der. It looked very much like the stuff she 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 229 
 
 had ordered. He filled up two or three 
 dozen capsules and carried them to the sick 
 woman and she took them. Before they were 
 half gone she was as spry as a cat. Wonder- 
 ful medicine, indeed ! 
 
 Another good lady got sick, and she had 
 tried all the doctors in reach and had received 
 no relief. She had taken up two or three 
 drug stores, but she failed to get anything 
 which helped her. Finally she heard of an 
 old doctor who was said to.be an expert in all 
 cases, and she sent for him. He came. She 
 began way back at the Genesis of her 
 trouble, and came on down through the 
 Psalms and Proverbs and the Lamentations, 
 and clear on down to Revelation. She told it 
 all. The old doctor sat there listening to it 
 all as though he was hearing his own death- 
 knell, all the time pulling his whiskers, and 
 every three seconds he would spit. When 
 she had finished her tale of woe, which would 
 have covered several dozen pages of a book 
 like this, the old doctor, with great gravity, 
 summed up her case in these startling words: 
 "Well, madam, I'll eat the Devil if you are 
 not in a hell of a fix !" It is said that she got 
 better immediately. 
 
 Folks will cuss doctors, just as they cuss 
 lawyers, but just let a fellow have a pain way 
 down in his lumbar regions out of the 
 
230 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 ordinary and he will break his neck going for 
 the doctor; or just let the jail or the peniten- 
 tiary stare him in the face and he won't cuss 
 the lawyers, he will almost break his neck 
 getting there. He's in trouble. I love to see 
 a fellow who has spent about half of his time 
 cussing doctors be brought right down to the 
 edge where he can look over and see and 
 smell the sulphurous fumes as they ascend 
 from the bottomless pit, and I love to see him 
 linger there a few days in doubt, dread, and 
 uncertainty, and let him feel that he is liable 
 at any moment to pitch head-first into the 
 boiling pit below, and then let the doctor 
 come in and tell him that while he is pretty 
 sick he is not going to die. If the doctor 
 would let him he would get right up there and 
 kiss his big toe. And I love to see a fellow 
 who has been cussing lawyers all his life hear 
 the jail doors creaking at his heels, and I love 
 to see him peeping out through the bars of 
 his cell, and then let him feel that funny sen- 
 sation which comes stealing over a fellow 
 when he is informed that his case is likely to 
 go against him, and that should it do so ten 
 years in the penitentiary is the very least he 
 can expect. And then I love to see him 
 pulled into court between two officers, hand- 
 cuffed, and let honest folks stare at him, and 
 let him see his enemies get on the jury, and 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 23 1 
 
 let him look the stern judge in the face, and 
 let him hear the evidence as it falls from the 
 lips of the witnesses, and then let him see the 
 discouraged look which comes over the 
 lawyer's face. And then when all the 
 evidence is in and his lawyer has feebly pre- 
 sented his side of the case, see the jury file out 
 of the room to decide what shall be done with 
 him. I love to see him writhe in the agony 
 of suspense while the jury is out, let him see 
 the doors of the penitentiary opening to 
 receive him. He feels mighty bad in that 
 hour. And then let the jury come filing into 
 the court-room as though they were going to 
 pronounce the death sentence, and see his face 
 flush and his body tremble as he expects to 
 hear that awful word "guilty" pronounced by 
 the clerk. And just as he is ready to faint let 
 the clerk read, "We, the jury, find the defend- 
 ant not guilty." Then he gets up and 
 sneaks out of the court-room as though he 
 had stolen something. He feels meaner than 
 he ever did in his life, but he never more 
 cusses lawyers. He is completely cured. 
 
 Folks who cuss doctors and lawyers will 
 never get to heaven, they are too mean. 
 They never can get forgiveness, because they 
 are too mean to ask for it. Lawyers are 
 cussed more than doctors are, and it's not 
 right. Lawyers always go along in the even 
 
232 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 tenor of their way, taking all they can get 
 their hands on, but they never change, except 
 they change fees from the clients' pockets to 
 their own. A doctor would do the same thing 
 if he only had a chance. But doctors are 
 always changing. Last year one thing would 
 cause a certain disease, but this year some- 
 thing else causes it. The best thing I ever 
 saw on this subject was what the editor of the 
 H. F. Press said about what the scientific 
 doctor-man said about the yellow fever 
 germs. He said this : 
 
 "A few years ago the scientific doctor-man 
 told us that yellow fever was caused by the 
 sporad, and that the sporad could be carried 
 in a cake of ice without injury. Now, the 
 same scientific doctor-man tells us that the 
 stegomyia causes yellow fever. Which theory 
 shall we believe ? We are inclined to believe 
 the latter theory, but prefer to take the pre- 
 scription for the former, which is one part 
 water, one part sugar, and three parts brandy, 
 mixed and shaken well, and a tea-cupful 
 taken every thirty minutes." 
 
 I am satisfied if this was the prescription to- 
 day there would be forty million cases of 
 yellow fever every year, and there would 
 even be a lot of cases during the winter. 
 
 I used to disbelieve this theory of microbes 
 causing disease, but I have been thoroughly 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 233 
 
 converted and I am sure to stay converted. 
 A year or two ago I had a bad case of slow 
 fever. The doctor said it was slow, but I 
 didn't think so, the way it roasted me. I 
 could just feel the microbes crawling all about 
 me, both inside and out. The doctor came 
 and began his assault on their battlements 
 with pills and powders. He loaded and fired 
 and fell back, and then tried again. At each 
 assault he slew many millions of them, but 
 I didn't like the powder and pill ammunition. 
 One day I asked him if he could not imitate 
 that fellow in the scripture who slew several 
 million folks with the jaw-bone of an ass. I 
 thought if a man could kill his thousands and 
 ten thousands with such an instrument as that, 
 he certainly ought to kill microbes, with it, 
 especially so when I was there ready to> help 
 hem them in ; but he only said that he might 
 -make a miss-lick and slay me in the opera- 
 tion. That was the thing I was trying to 
 avoid if possible. He continued his ammuni- 
 tion of pills and powder. His powder was 
 put into capsules. 
 
 At last he said he had them on the run. A 
 few more pills, a little more powder and 
 butter-milk and the victory would be com- 
 plete. Powder, pills, and butter-milk, a 
 funny combination to go to war with, but I 
 saw he was gaining the victory and I did not 
 
234 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 complain about being the breastworks for him 
 to get behind. One day he came and looked 
 me over and said he did not think there were 
 enough microbes left to do me any damage, 
 and that in a day or two they would all be 
 gone, and sure enough they were. One morn- 
 ing I felt something stirring around under 
 the cover at the foot of the bed and I kicked 
 them off on the floor. What a conglomera- 
 tion of varmints they were. There were not 
 over forty thousand of them, and each one 
 had on a capsule for a hat, and each was 
 clothed in a coat of butter-milk, and all had 
 a leg or an arm shot off, besides all of them 
 were shot full of pill holes. They pitched out 
 at the back door and pulled northeast. I 
 would have given chase, but I was too weak. 
 When last seen alive they were three miles 
 northeast of town, with a large banner 
 hoisted, on which was written: "We are on 
 our way to the pension bureau at Washington 
 to put in our application for a pension. We 
 feel that we are entitled to it." And so did I. 
 But they never got there. When they 
 reached the Tennessee River a cyclone came 
 along and blew them in, and all having lost 
 a leg or an arm they could not swim and were 
 drowned. If they left any survivors they 
 have not returned. 
 
 Soon after my tussle with the slow fever I 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 235 
 
 discovered a pain in the right side of my 
 breast, so I had to see the scientific doctor- 
 man some more. He examined me carefully 
 and found what I told him to be true, though 
 I never did think that he found out the true 
 status of the case. He told me he did not 
 think I had tuberculosis, but that it might 
 develop from the indications which he saw. I 
 pulled out down on the Gulf Coast and spent 
 what little cash I had trying to get rid of the 
 "indications," but I didn't get rid of them. 
 They continued to annoy me. I was thinking 
 of going to New Mexico. I was really 
 getting alarmed. I wanted to start in time 
 to head the thing off, or as the doctor-man 
 said, "nip the thing in its incipiency." I 
 didn't care whether it was "nipped in its 
 incipiency," or where it was nipped. I only 
 wanted it nipped. I was really getting in a 
 bad fix and I knew something would have to 
 be done or there would be a job for the 
 undertaker, and I was not ready to give him 
 employment just then, and really I am not 
 ready by any means yet. I figured on the cost 
 of going to New Mexico, and it did seem 
 much cheaper to give the job to the under- 
 taker. 1 
 
 One day I decided to go to Memphis and 
 summon the best scientific doctor-men I could 
 find in that city, and let them examine me 
 
236 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and make them tell me the truth, if they 
 knew what it was — that is, knew what the 
 truth was. So I went. I made an appoint- 
 ment with the leading doctor-man of the 
 corps, and at eleven o'clock in the forenoon 
 I pulled myself up to the top of one of the 
 tallest skyscrapers in the city and found them 
 waiting in solemn silence. I pulled off my 
 shirt by their direction, and they began to 
 thump and thump me around as I used to do 
 to ascertain if a water-melon was ripe. But 
 they didn't talk any, so I could not guess what 
 sort of a decision they would conjure up. 
 Finally they told me to put my shirt back on, 
 and I did. They withdrew to the other end 
 of the room and began to analyze the 
 symptoms they had found. The only thing 
 which kept me from knowing what they said 
 was the fact that they spit out words as long 
 as a mule's tail. I didn't know what they 
 meant and neither did they. They deliberated 
 long and earnestly. It dawned upon me that 
 the decision was going to be adverse, that I 
 had not quite, but almost, reached the last 
 stage, and so forth. I felt real bad. I could 
 easily have gone to bed, and really I think I 
 could have died as easily as a jilted French- 
 man, but I didn't want to. 
 
 Finally, the chief approached me and de- 
 livered his verdict. He did it in such masterly 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 237 
 
 style that even to-day it has not soaked into 
 my skull. I never found out what he was 
 talking about, but the suspense was awful. I 
 thought that if they charged me according to 
 the long words he spit out it would take eight 
 or ten Rockefellers to pay the bill. In the 
 midst of his delivery I spit some too, and they 
 saw it. It was blood, no mistake about it. It 
 created pandemonium among them. "In the 
 last stages," said the doctor-man. They 
 thought my term was up right there. They 
 rushed around to get something to stop the 
 hemorrhage, and they were in the act of 
 pouring some infamous-looking stuff down 
 me when I found my voice. I said : "Gentle- 
 men, I beg you — really there isn't — but if you 
 would only — as I was going to say — but you 
 won't give me time — if you would — there are 
 no — only let me explain — but there is no use 
 — can't you suspend — no, I never saw — what 
 is the use — you do not know — thunderation, 
 you act like a set — now, I tell you — why in 
 blazes don't you — take your finger out — can't 
 you let me — if I had a gun — doggone such 
 doctors — but then you don't know — I am 
 trying to explain — if you would only — oh, 
 shucks, I'm not going to — " 
 
 But they kept prancing around trying to 
 pour the nasty stuff down me, and never 
 would let me explain what I was trying to. 
 
238 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 They were all talking while I was trying to 
 talk. They were so excited I was afraid they 
 would pour a lot of arsenic or something 
 down me through mistake. I never saw such 
 a crazy set in my life. After a while they 
 worried themselves down, and I jumped out 
 into the middle of the floor and yelled: "If 
 you would only let me explain, you might get 
 over some of your foolish scare. As I was 
 trying to say, on my way up here a while ago 
 I stopped at the dentist's office and had a 
 tooth pulled. That is where the blood is 
 coming from." 
 
 Four doctors fell limp and lifeless into four 
 chairs. I never saw four fellows as thunder- 
 struck in all my life. I began to think I 
 would have to pour something down them to 
 revive them, but I didn't know what it would 
 be. It occurred to me that it might be wise 
 for me to leave. I started, got to the door, 
 and it occurred to me that I had not paid my 
 bill. I inquired, "How much is your 
 charge?" The chief doctor-man raised his 
 eyes and feebly grunted, "Nothing." I fled 
 down the elevator. Strange to say, I have 
 not been troubled since with that gnawing 
 sensation at my breathing vitals since that 
 day. Wonderful scientific doctor-men. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 Two or three years ago I went to an ad- 
 joining State on some business. I reached the 
 town to which I had started early one morn- 
 ing, and before nine o'clock I had transacted 
 the business which had called me there, and 
 as I could not get a train until ten o'clock that 
 night I thought I would see as much of the 
 surrounding country as I could. There were 
 no sights to be seen in the village where I 
 was. Out four miles from the village was 
 an exceedingly high mountain, high for that 
 part of the State, and high to me. From the 
 village its peak loomed high against the sky. 
 The party I had gone to see told me that if 
 I cared to go up on the mountain he would 
 carry me. As I had never been mountain 
 climbing before, and as I wanted some way to 
 pass the weary hours which were before me, 
 I gladly accepted his offer, so we started. We 
 climbed to the top of it and found a family 
 of people living there. They invited us to 
 stay for dinner and we gladly accepted the 
 invitation. 
 
 After dinner we started out again to ex- 
 plore the mountain and to go on the other 
 side of it. As we were going down the 
 
240 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 western side of it my host asked me if I would 
 like to call on a crazy man. Well, I didn't 
 know whether I did or not. He assured me 
 that he was perfectly harmless, and that it 
 would pay me to see him, as I had probably 
 never seen such a case before and probably 
 never would. When he assured me that the 
 man was harmless I agreed to go. The 
 events which took place in the man's life 
 which I shall relate wrecked his mind. He 
 would talk of nothing else. He didn't seem 
 to know anything else. He would eat and 
 sleep, but he would do it just as an animal 
 would. If you asked him a question he would 
 not answer you, but the way he would look at 
 you always made you sorry that you asked the 
 question. Why he was not removed to the 
 insane asylum I failed to find out. The only 
 talking he did was about the events which 
 happened to him which unbalanced his mind. 
 He was kidnapped and taken from home, and 
 what was done to him was never found out. 
 He had a wife and two children when he was 
 kidnapped, and the shock of his return was 
 so great that it killed his wife. Here is the 
 story: 
 
 Imagine yourself in a sleepy little village of 
 five hundred people, with a court-house in 
 the center, two or three stores on either side, 
 and dwellings here and there scattered over 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 24 1 
 
 its limits, and you will have a pretty fair 
 picture of the place where these events began 
 and ended. On the south side of the town, 
 on the highest elevation within its limits, was 
 located his residence. The main street ran 
 by it, on north by the court-house, and on out 
 into the country. 
 
 On the morning of the second day of May, 
 some years before, the man left his home to 
 go to Ridgeland, twenty miles away. This 
 place was nothing but a country store and 
 post-office. As was usual, on this morning 
 his wife and two babies followed him to the 
 gate to bid him good-bye. He intended to 
 return in the evening. As he rode away, as 
 far as he could hear, both babies were calling 
 to him at the top of their voices, "By-by, 
 foddie; turn back 'fore night." And just as 
 he turned at the corner near the court-house, 
 he glanced back, and saw them still at the 
 gate waving him a good-by. He rode out of 
 town that morning with a sense of deep 
 pleasure upon him. The earth was carpeted 
 with green grass, wild flowers were every- 
 where, and the birds were gaily singing in 
 the trees ; the sky was clear and a light spring 
 breeze was stirring among the fragrant 
 flowers. He had just left a happy home 
 where jars and discords were never allowed to 
 16 
 
242 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 enter, and on this morning, as he rode away, 
 the scenes of the past five years came back to 
 him in a living reality. Mile after mile he. 
 rode in a dream-like ecstasy, his mind not 
 dwelling on the business before him,3ut on 
 the happy home which he had just left. The 
 feeling that morning which possessed him 
 cannot be described, it must be felt to be 
 appreciated. He would have been content 
 to live here forever with that kind of feeling. 
 His home was not rich, save in peace and con- 
 tentment; but that abounded in such propor- 
 tions that the lack of many things which he 
 could have enjoyed had his earthly posses- 
 sions been more, were forgotten. 
 
 By ten o'clock he was at his destination, 
 feeling as fresh as when he started. Unfor- 
 tunately, the party he had gone to see had 
 been called away that morning and would not 
 return until three- o'clock. If he waited for 
 his return it would cause him to be late 
 getting home, but should he go home without 
 seeing him it would be necessary for him to 
 make the trip again next day, so he decided 
 to wait. A long weary wait it was, but at 
 three o'clock the party returned, and though 
 the business was hurriedly transacted, it was 
 four o'clock when it was finished, and he had 
 twenty miles to ride, and a great deal of the 
 road was rough. It would take him until 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 243 
 
 dark to get home, the best he could do. His 
 faithful horse, however, seemed to realize 
 that they must lose no time or they would be 
 late, so in a fast gallop they began the 
 journey. 
 
 Mile after mile they went, and were mak- 
 ing pretty fair time. He could almost see his 
 wife and babies at the gate watching for his 
 return. Two-thirds of the distance had been 
 made when he rode to the top of a high 
 hill. The sun was gliding down the western 
 sky. They had two miles of level road be- 
 fore them and then they must go through a 
 deep forest of small trees, briers, canes, and 
 underbrush. When he entered the forest the 
 shades of evening were gathering and he was 
 five miles from home, but at the speed he was 
 going he would make it a little after dark. 
 Half way through this dense wood his horse 
 stopped suddenly, threw up his head in a 
 frightened way, and refused to go on. Think- 
 ing it was only a cow perhaps, or a hog, he 
 urged him on, but he refused to move. 
 
 Suddenly from the bushes four men stepped 
 into the road some twenty paces in front of 
 him. All of them had on masks, and each 
 had a revolver in his hand. The first thing 
 which entered his mind was that four boys 
 , were playing a prank on him, but a deep bass 
 voice called out to him to hold up his hands. 
 
244 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Still thinking it was only a joke being played 
 on him, he laughed, and told them to let him 
 pass, as it was getting late and it would be 
 night before he could get home, he had no 
 time to lose; but an advance of a few steps, 
 and pointing their revolvers at him, forced 
 him to believe that it was anything but a 
 joke; that the men meant him to hold up his 
 hands, and he obeyed. They told him to get 
 down, and he did. 
 
 It occurred to him that they were bent on 
 robbery, and as he had that day collected one 
 hundred and fifty dollars he thought they had 
 found it out and were after the money, so he 
 told them to take what he had and let him go 
 on; but they replied that they did not want 
 what he had, they wanted him. One of the 
 party led his horse by and turned him loose. 
 He ran fifty or sixty yards, stopped, looked 
 back and whinnied, which showed that he 
 realized that his master was in trouble. He 
 was led into the forest something like a 
 hundred yards, and searched. He supposed 
 they were looking for a weapon, for when 
 they were satisfied that he had none they did 
 not take his money. When they found that 
 he was not armed one of them pulled out a 
 pair of dark spectacles, such as people some- 
 times wear who have weak eyes; but when 
 they were put on him and fastened with a 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 245 
 
 string at the back of his head he could not 
 see any more than if he were blind. He 
 asked them if they did not think they were 
 mistaken in their man. The only answer he 
 got was that if he did not keep quiet, and ask 
 no more questions, he would get into serious 
 trouble. There was something in the burly 
 fellow's voice which easily convinced him 
 that he was in deadly earnest, and that it 
 would be best not to make any trouble. 
 
 When he was securely blindfolded they 
 began to march, in what direction he could 
 not guess. They went two or three miles, 
 when they came to a carriage and all got in, 
 and were driven like the wind for something 
 like two hours, when they slowed up and for 
 some hours traveled that way. Not a word 
 was spoken by any one, except whispering be- 
 tween the parties on the front seat, and this 
 was seldom. It appeared that there were 
 five of the crowd now, at least there were two 
 with him on the back seat, and he knew there 
 were two on the front seat, and there must 
 have been some one with the carriage when 
 they came to it. Some time, way in the night, 
 they stopped and all got out, and after a few 
 minutes of low talking one with another, 
 which he could not understand, the carriage 
 was driven away. Two of them got on either 
 side of him and two in front, and again they 
 
246 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 were on the march. After going a mile or 
 two, they stopped and one of them said: 
 "Now, young man, we do not want to give 
 you any trouble or hurt you in any way, but 
 we are going to get on the train here. We 
 have not tied your hands and we are not 
 going to, because to do that people might ask 
 questions and this might reveal our actions, 
 or at least arouse suspicion; these spectacles 
 will not arouse suspicion and we are going 
 to carry you this way; but mark you, if you 
 undertake to remove them at any time you 
 will be shot on the spot; we give you fair 
 warning." This speech was delivered in such 
 words that it convinced him that they were 
 not idly spoken, and whether the threat would 
 have been carried out or not he believed it 
 would be if he undertook to remove them, so 
 he did not. He asked them to grant him one 
 favor, and they wanted to know what it was, 
 and he told them that he wanted to send word 
 or write to his wife and let her know where he 
 was; but this was refused, and he was again 
 forcibly reminded not to ask for favors — 
 they would not be granted. 
 
 It must have been four o'clock when they 
 took the train, for what place he had not the 
 slightest idea. He was pretty sure that only 
 two of the men went into the car with him, 
 in fact, he missed the other two as soon as 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 247 
 
 the consultation ended just a few minutes be- 
 fore. When they were seated in the car, for 
 the first time since his capture he collected 
 his wits sufficiently to think, What does this 
 mean? Why was he kidnapped? Had he 
 any enemies who would do him that way? 
 He didn't know of any. Was it a crowd of 
 fellows who had arrested him with the hope 
 that a big ransom would be paid for his 
 release? This seemed the most plausible ex- 
 planation, but his people were too poor to 
 raise much of a ransom. It was a profound 
 mystery; no use to think of it, he could not 
 see through it. 
 
 His thoughts began to dwell on his loved 
 ones at home. If his horse should go home 
 what sort of message would he carry? He 
 could see his wife and babies at dusk, when 
 they thought it was time for him to return, 
 waiting for him at the gate where they had 
 waved him a loving good-by that morning, 
 and as the shades of night began to gather, 
 with what anxious eyes they watched for his 
 coming ! They did not know at that moment 
 that he was being hurried through a dense 
 thicket blindfolded and held a captive. At 
 last it was too dark for them to see, so with 
 troubled thoughts they went in-doors. But 
 at every sound they thought it was him re- 
 turning. At last they could hear the 
 
248 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 approach of a horse, the door was flung open 
 and his name called, but there was no answer. 
 The horse stopped at the gate and gave a piti- 
 ful whinny. With flying feet he could see his 
 wife as she bounded to the gate, and what a 
 shocking surprise to her to find that the horse 
 was there without his master. The alarm 
 was given and he could see the sleepy village 
 suddenly stir with life. People began to 
 flock to his home to ask questions, but they 
 were not answered; the only thing which 
 could be learned was that in the morning he 
 had ridden over to Ridgeland and in the even- 
 ing his horse had returned home without him. 
 Something had happened. A searching party 
 was formed, and with lanterns they marched 
 away in search of him. All night long the 
 faithful searchers tramped over hills and 
 valleys, but not a trace of him could be found. 
 All next day and for the next four or five days 
 they searched over every foot of ground 
 which he had traveled over, but still no trace 
 could be found. He had vanished from the 
 earth as completely as if it had opened its 
 mouth and swallowed him. As he was being 
 hurried across the country somewhere he 
 could see the faithful wife as she walked to 
 and fro across the room spending a sleepless 
 night, and at every sound she would fly to the 
 door to see if any one was returning with 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 249 
 
 news. He could feel just what she was ex- 
 periencing in that agonizing hour. Mile 
 after mile the train thundered on, increasing 
 the distance between him and his loved ones. 
 After traveling what seemed to him five 
 hundred miles, they got off of that train, but 
 were carried only a short distance to another, 
 and in a few minutes they were traveling 
 again, but in what direction or where he could 
 not guess. A whole day must have passed 
 and it must now be the second night. It 
 seemed that it had been a month since his cap- 
 ture. He had had nothing to eat or drink 
 since dinner at Ridgeland the day of his cap- 
 ture. He was famishing for water, but he 
 could not have eaten anything if he had had 
 the opportunity. On and on they hurried. 
 Should they ever reach the destination to 
 which they had started? In what direction 
 were they going — north, east, south, or west ? 
 He had not the slightest idea. The only 
 thing he knew was that they were going, and 
 that he was famishing for water. After 
 traveling all night, or what he thought was 
 all night, they stopped again, and got off of 
 that train. Soon after this they got into a 
 carriage and were driven forty or fifty miles. 
 He could tell that the road was level and 
 smooth, and that they went at a rapid rate. 
 After traveling for hours in this carriage they 
 
250 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 stopped again. He could tell that the car- 
 riage had left them. They sat down on the 
 grass, or rather he lay down, for he was 
 more dead than alive. 
 
 If they had only removed those spectacles 
 so that he could see it would have helped him 
 a great deal, but they would not and he was 
 afraid to ask them. He did not know how 
 long they remained there where the carriage 
 left them, but it must have been four or five 
 hours. He could tell that it was daytime and 
 that the sun was shining, for it was fearfully 
 hot. He was almost roasted. After staying 
 there for he knew not how long, they got up 
 and started on another march, how far he did 
 not know, but they only went a short dis- 
 tance until they entered what he thought at 
 the time was a building, but soon after he 
 could hear the water splashing and the waves 
 beating against the building. Pretty soon it 
 began to rock, so he knew they had entered 
 a boat or ship. He had not the slightest idea 
 how long they were on this vessel, for he had 
 lost all idea of time. It might have been two 
 or three hours or it might have been two or 
 three days, he could not tell. His suffering 
 for water was tormenting. His hunger had 
 passed away, he only had a hot, sickening 
 feeling. He was conscious' of the fact that 
 only two of the men had been with him since 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 25 I 
 
 they took the first train. When traveling 
 they kept him between them. Neither would 
 ever speak to the other, at least not in words. 
 They may have had a way of communicating 
 with each other which he could not hear, but 
 so far as talking was concerned they were as 
 silent as he was. 
 
 After traveling on this boat for some hours 
 it stopped, and they went ashore. He could 
 tell again that it was daytime because he 
 could feel the hot rays of the sun. He could 
 tell also that they had landed on a sandy 
 shore. He was conscious that no one was 
 present except his two captors. They began 
 a weary march over the sand, one of them on 
 each side of him. He thought he would fall 
 every moment, and indeed he would if they 
 had not supported him. At last they halted, 
 and he could tell that they were in the shade. 
 How cool and pleasant it was. How easily 
 he could have gone to sleep, in fact he must 
 have done so, but he had reached the point 
 that he did not really know what happened, 
 it all seemed so much like a horrible dream. 
 They may have stayed there fifteen minutes, 
 or it may have been two hours. He had lost 
 all sense of danger, he did not really care 
 what they did with him, he was almost life- 
 less. Exposure, the long journey, the want 
 
252 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 of something to eat and drink and the lack of 
 sleep had robbed him of life almost. 
 
 After remaining in this shade for some 
 time they again moved on, and again it was 
 over hot sand. Not a sound broke the silence 
 not the sound of a bird, nor life of any kind ; 
 the wind even was still as death. Only the 
 soft tread of their feet in the sand could be 
 heard. He imagined that they were in the 
 middle of the great Sahara — it certainly 
 seemed so. After a march of no telling how 
 far they stopped again. And again he felt 
 the blessedness of a shade. But by this time 
 they were out of the sand, and had been for 
 some time, and had come to a hilly country. 
 After resting at this place for a short time 
 something took place which he was not pre- 
 pared for. They began to go down into a 
 cave, or at least he judged it to be a cave. 
 One of the men went before and the other 
 behind him, both holding him to keep him 
 from falling. Really they carried him down, 
 for if he had been turned loose he would have 
 fallen like a rock. They went down it 
 seemed to him forty or fifty feet — not 
 straight down of course, but slanting — when 
 they came to a level. It was damp and cool 
 and he supposed dark — it seemed he could 
 feel the darkness, but it was perhaps only the 
 dampness. He could hear and feel the water 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 253 
 
 dripping from overhead like a leaky roof, 
 and the bottom was muddy and slippery. It 
 was the most disagreeable place he was ever 
 in ; it was oppressive. While it was cool, yet 
 the odor was stifling, he could hardly 
 breathe. How far they went and whether 
 they had gone in a straight line or not he had 
 not the slightest idea, but it seemed to him 
 that they had tramped five miles. 
 
 What was going to happen or what was 
 going to be done with him he didn't know — 
 he only wanted to lie down and rest, even 
 there in the mud. He was not prepared for 
 the next move of his captors, for suddenly 
 they stopped and both of them turned him 
 loose. Not a word was spoken. What they 
 were doing, whether they were still standing 
 by him or not he could not tell. He did not 
 hear them leave, but walking on the mud was 
 as noiseless as walking on a carpet. How 
 long he stood there before he moved he did 
 not know, but it must have been half an hour. 
 At last he began to feel around to ascertain 
 if he had really been deserted. He could 
 feel nothing. He moved a step or two and 
 still could feel nothing. Evidently he was 
 alone. He still had on these tormenting spec- 
 tacles, but he had been given a positive com- 
 mand that if he should remove them he would 
 be shot. Could it be possible that the two 
 
254 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 men were standing off ten or twenty steps 
 with drawn guns ready to fire should he re- 
 move them? He did not know, and he did 
 not like to take the risk of removing them. 
 Still, he felt sure that he was in a dark cave 
 where it would be impossible for them to see 
 him without a light. He moved here and 
 there a little more, feeling his way, but still 
 he could find nothing. He began to think. 
 Suppose in walking around he should step 
 into a hole a hundred feet deep. 
 
 When he thought of this danger it seemed 
 to be even greater than the danger of being 
 shot by removing the spectacles. What 
 should he do? Could he lift them just a 
 little and see if it was as dark as midnight? 
 At last he could stand it no longer, so he 
 lifted them a little ; but not a thing could be 
 seen, it was pitch-dark. He raised them from 
 his eyes and not a ray of light could be seen. 
 Can you imagine his feelings when it dawned 
 upon him that he was there maybe two thou- 
 sand miles from home in a dark, damp dun- 
 geon of a cave, alone? It is not possible. 
 The darkness and dampness were more op- 
 pressive than ever. But was it really dark, 
 or had he become temporarily blind by hav- 
 ing been blindfolded so long? He did not 
 know, but with all the rubbing of his eyes and 
 blinking he could not see anything. It was as 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 255 
 
 dark as if he had no eyes at all. But one 
 thing now he was sure of, and that was he 
 was really alone, his captors had left him. 
 
 The dismal drip, drip of water from over- 
 head, the dampness underfoot, and the dark- 
 ness were exceedingly oppressive. It was 
 miserable. Tired, worn out, and starved) 
 almost to death, and sick, he moved around 
 cautiously, feeling for holes to keep out of 
 and trying to find his way out of there. After 
 wandering around for a long time he ran 
 against something; it proved to be a rock. 
 He began to survey it with his hands. It 
 was about waist high and four or five feet 
 wide and eight or ten feet long, and the top 
 was comparatively smooth, and what was 
 better it was not covered with mud, though it 
 was wet. He climbed upon it and lay down 
 to rest, and he did rest, for in a few minutes 
 his tired body was at rest, he had gone to 
 sleep. At last the miserable experiences of 
 the past few days, if it had been days, were 
 shut out by the blessed sleep. 
 
 How long he slept he had not the slightest 
 idea — it might have been six hours or it 
 might have Deen three days. But when he 
 awoke his mouth and tongue were as dry as 
 a chip, he could scarcely breathe, for since 
 that fateful day of his capture he had not had 
 a drop of water. His head was throbbing 
 
256 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 with fever and he was literally burning up in 
 that dark, damp dungeon. Once more he 
 began to search for the outlet, and again he 
 traveled over the cave, but still he could find 
 no opening; but after wandering around for 
 an hour or two he again found his rock upon 
 which he had slept. Of course his travel was 
 slow and tedious, for he had to search for 
 places to keep out of; but after making this 
 second round he had a pretty fair idea of the 
 topography of the cave. It seemed to be 
 round, in the shape of a shallow pan, the sides 
 sloping gradually up, and it was deeper in the 
 center than elsewhere. 
 
 The walls all round seemed to be rock; he 
 could find no earth. He sat down on his rock 
 again and began to try to think why he could 
 not find the opening, for certainly he had 
 been all around it, and no matter how long 
 nor how crooked the opening might be some 
 light certainly would enter the cave. Then 
 he thought perhaps his eyes having been 
 closed from the light so long had caused tem- 
 porary blindness, and yet this did not seem 
 at all plausible ; for while such a thing might 
 for a while keep him from distinguishing one 
 object from another, yet if there was any 
 light he could tell it. At last it occurred to 
 him that he might have a match, so he began 
 to search. He found only one. He struck 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 257 
 
 it, it sputtered up, and lo! he could see the 
 light of it, he was not blind, though the light 
 was painful to his eyes ; but he could not get 
 any idea of the size of the cave, because he 
 could see only a few feet away. He held the 
 match as long as he could, it flickered and 
 went out — total darkness again. He felt as 
 though he had lost the only friend he had. 
 For a long time he sat there thinking. 
 
 At last it occurred to him that the mouth 
 of the cave had been stopped up to keep out 
 the light. This was the only conclusion he 
 could reach at that time which seemed clothed 
 with reason. Therefore it was useless to hunt 
 for it any more. 
 
 He began to think again why he had been 
 arrested, why he had been hurried so far 
 from home, and why he should be left in such 
 a place to starve, and die a miserable, linger- 
 ing death, for he now was convinced that he 
 was deserted for good and that he was left 
 there to die. Why? The silent gloomy 
 walls around him gave no answer. Only one 
 thing could he see, and that was that he was 
 alone and that he had been deserted and left 
 there to die a lingering death. Though 
 greatly enfeebled by exposure and the want 
 of something to eat and drink, the horrible- 
 ness of that hour is beyond human effort to 
 17 
 
258 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 describe. Slowly, slowly sinking into the 
 arms of certain death, inch by inch ! 
 
 Try to imagine his insane hopelessness 
 when that hour dawned fully upon him. 
 Perhaps the only thing which kept him from 
 rushing about and doing himself some serious 
 bodily harm was his exhausted, starved condi- 
 tion. Hour after hour he lay there, more 
 dead than alive, and perhaps he went to sleep 
 again ; he could not really tell whether it was 
 sleep or the almost insensible stupor which he 
 was in, but in the course of what seemed to 
 him five or six hours his mind was less 
 troubled and he was more composed, and as 
 he lay there on that rock his thoughts began 
 to stray far away to that happy home from 
 which he had been so suddenly taken without 
 warning ; and while he was suffering the tor- 
 ments of condemned spirits, what must be the 
 suffering of his loved ones at home? He could 
 see parties who had been searching for him as 
 they returned with no news, and he could see 
 the agony which the lack of news caused his 
 loved ones. At last the last searcher re- 
 turned, and still no trace of him had been 
 found. What utter hopelessness settled down 
 upon that once happy home! Instead of a 
 home filled with peace and contentment it 
 was a home filled with tears and dire fore- 
 bodings. The suspense, the agony of mind 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 259 
 
 as to his fate, the sleepless nights spent in 
 wondering if he would ever return, were little 
 easier borne than the torments of his im- 
 prisonment. As he lay there on that rock he 
 could see his faithful wife make a thousand 
 trips to the gate to see if perchance he was 
 coming home. He could see his babies climb 
 upon the gate, and he could hear ringing in 
 his ears their voices telling him to come home. 
 And then when the shades of night had 
 fallen, instead of the father there romping 
 with his babies, there was an oppressive 
 silence, broken only by suppressed sobs. He 
 coulS see two sunny-haired babies pressed 
 tenderly to a breaking heart, and as the tears 
 would fall upon their heads he could see their 
 big blue eyes open in wonder. They could 
 not understand. 
 
 Hour after hour such visions would rise be- 
 fore him. He would sit there and dream of 
 them in a sort of stupor, and then come to> 
 himself with a start to find himself in that 
 horrible dungeon. How many days he had 
 been there he could not guess, but he could tell 
 one thing and that was that he was growing 
 weaker and weaker each day. The skin was 
 tightening over his hands and face, he was lit- 
 erally drying up for want of water. He 
 would go to sleep and sleep, then wake and re- 
 main in a half-stupor for hours at a time. AH 
 
260 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 hope had vanished of his ever being released ; 
 he had given up all hope of ever seeing the 
 light of day again. He was sure that he had 
 been deserted and left to die. When he 
 reached this conclusion he wished a thousand, 
 yes a million, times that he had pulled off those 
 spectacles and been shot as they said he would 
 be. He would have been relieved of that 
 miserable, lingering, living death. What a 
 blessing it would have been to have that mis- 
 erable experience suddenly ended! And each 
 time before going to sleep he would vainly 
 wish that he would never wake, that he would 
 enter that dreamless sleep which knows no 
 waking. He was anxious for the end to come 
 and relieve him. He had always heard that 
 it would take any one from thirty to fifty days 
 to starve to death. He had tried to figure out 
 how many days it had been since his capture 
 on the second of May. Sometimes he would 
 guess ten or fifteen days, and then he would 
 think of his weakened condition and how long 
 it seemed since that day, and it seemed that it 
 must be at least forty days. It might have 
 been only five and yet it might have been 
 twenty-five. For some time after his con- 
 finement, after resting on his rock, he would 
 walk around over the cave and then back to 
 rest again, but now he remained on his rock. 
 He had become so weak he did not think he 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 26 1 
 
 could walk, at least he did not try any more. 
 Sleeping on that rock made him so sore that 
 it was painful to touch him anywhere; the 
 slightest touch was almost unbearable. 
 
 One day, or night, he did not know which, 
 as he lay there more dead than alive, some- 
 thing happened which startled him almost 
 out of his wits. Was it a vision? Was it 
 only a dream? Would he awake and find it 
 so? Whether real or imaginary, he was con- 
 scious that a light was entering his den, dim, 
 yet a light. He lay still, he was afraid to 
 move for fear it would vanish. Were his 
 senses deceiving him? No, it was really 
 getting lighter. Not a sound could he hear. 
 The light was evidently at his back, for he 
 could not see 1 it; but it was really getting 
 lighter and lighter, and the temptation to 
 turn and see if he could see it was too great 
 for him. He turned over, and, lo and be- 
 hold! something which looked like a huge 
 star was approaching. Not a sound could be 
 heard, and nothing could be seen but that 
 great flaming star. Was it really a light or a 
 vision? His weakened senses almost made 
 him believe that it was only a vision, and yet 
 it could not be so, for the light was too pain- 
 ful to his eyes — it blinded him, he could not 
 look at it any more than he could look at the 
 noonday sun. 
 
262 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 He was not deceived, it was really a light, 
 a dark lantern. Not a word was spoken. 
 The light approached him, a hand was thrust 
 out from behind the lantern, and a small cup 
 was set on his rock. Slowly the light backed 
 away. He looked at # the cup, raised himself, 
 picked it up. It was cool, almost cold. What 
 was in it he could not tell ; he could not see it, 
 but he tasted it. Though his mouth and 
 tongue were as dry as a board he could tell 
 that it was cool, refreshing milk. Almost at 
 one gulp it was swallowed down. It brought 
 him a message, a message it seemed from the 
 portals of the Holy City. It was the sweetest 
 draught he ever tasted. It allayed his tor- 
 menting thirst to some extent, but the physical 
 good it did him was not to be compared with 
 the message it brought. It brought a mes- 
 sage of life. Think of it, a message of 
 life! It said to him in loving, whispering 
 words, "Thou shalt not die !" After all, he 
 was to live, his captors did not mean that he 
 should perish, that he should not die, or if 
 they did mean it they had repented and now 
 they brought him life. It was the happiest 
 moment of his life. He lost sight of his 
 suffering in thinking of the message which 
 this little cup of milk brought him. But in 
 this delightful moment he had not noticed 
 that the light had disappeared and that he 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 16*3 
 
 was again in total darkness. The damp, dark 
 dungeon was not now half so oppressive as 
 before. For a long time he sat there with 
 "the sweetest thoughts running through his 
 mind ever experienced by mortal man. He 
 could see in a short time that he would be re- 
 leased and go back to his home. Every ten 
 minutes he would, in his imagination, find 
 himself marching up the walk to his happy 
 home, and he could see his wife and babies 
 running out to meet him. How many times 
 he did this he did not know, but it must have 
 run up into the millions. But when he would 
 see that it was only a dream it did not leave 
 the sharp pang of disappointment which he 
 had before experienced when he would awake 
 from a dream. 
 
 He soon began to think how long it would 
 be before they would return. A long, weary 
 wait it was. It must have been two, three, or 
 perhaps four or five hours — it was a long 
 time; but when they returned he was still 
 sitting on his rock. Slowly the light again 
 approached and again a cup was placed on 
 his rock and the empty one taken away. The 
 light backed off as before and disappeared. 
 Again he experienced the thrill of drinking 
 a cup of cold milk, and it brought more life 
 to him. He began to really live, but he did 
 not have the courage to ask them how long 
 
264 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 they intended to keep him there, for he knew 
 they would not tell him ; besides, they might 
 give him trouble. He remained silent. For 
 what he supposed to be five or six days they 
 kept bringing him milk, nothing but milk, 
 every two or three hours, but he was a great 
 deal stronger. He would walk around oyer 
 the cave and then back to the rock. He tried 
 to find the passage which led out of there, and 
 though he would follow the direction in which 
 the light left he never could find the way out. 
 One day, or night he did not know which, 
 they came to him, and after they had given 
 him his usual rations one of them told him to 
 stand up. He was again blindfolded with a 
 pair of spectacles. Again this brought him 
 an appreciative message, the message that he 
 was going to be taken out of there I He was 
 so happy he could hardly keep from shout- 
 ing; he was almost overwhelmed by the 
 thought of being liberated, for he was sure 
 that was what they were going to do. In a 
 few minutes they began to scramble up a 
 steep, rough passage, which he took to be the 
 one which he had been carried down. At last 
 they were at the top, he was once more out 
 in the open free air where he could get a good 
 unrestrained breath! All the combined 
 adjectives of all languages could not express 
 his feelings at that moment. To feel the cool 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 265 
 
 breath of what he took to be early morning 
 after being confined in a close, oppressive, 
 damp cave is something beyond the power of 
 human efforts to describe. It did not need 
 any description; to feel it was good enough 
 for him. 
 
 There were only two with him in the cave, 
 but now he could tell at least two others were 
 present, for when they left there was one on 
 each side of him and two in front; he could 
 hear their suppressed talk. This was sur- 
 prising to him, because two of the four had 
 left him when he was first taken aboard the 
 train and only two had been with him up to 
 now. His capture had taken on a new aspect. 
 It was darker than ever before. He felt 
 somehow that the two men who had left them 
 at the railway station had gone somewhere on 
 a mission and had come to them after he had 
 been in the cave for no telling how long. He 
 was too much bewildered to think coherently, 
 so his mind began to dwell on the happier 
 phase of the situation, that he was going to 
 be released, and that it would not be a great 
 while before he would be free, and then with 
 killing impatience he would start for home ! 
 
 They traveled over a long stretch of sand, 
 and got in what he took to be a skiff, and in 
 fifteen or twenty minutes they landed on the 
 other side. It seemed that they had crossed 
 
266 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 a wide river. When they landed they began 
 another weary march, but this time it was 
 not over sand, it was slightly hilly. But he 
 could tell the sun was shining, for it was fear- 
 fully hot. It seemed that they had gone a 
 mile or two before they stopped again. They 
 sat down and rested for something like an 
 hour and then moved on. He heard the 
 approach of the locomotive. It stopped and 
 they gftt on, and in a few minutes they were 
 thundering away somewhere. After a 
 journey of perhaps a hundred miles they got 
 off. They then got into a carriage and were 
 driven away, over hills and valleys. It 
 seemed that they must have gone fifty miles 
 before they stopped. When they got out of 
 the carriage it left them and they marched on. 
 He could tell that it was night, at least the 
 sun was not shining ; it was cool. After walk- 
 ing for a mile or two they stopped again and 
 sat down. He was told that he could go to 
 sleep if he wanted to. It seemed that it had 
 been two or three days since he had slept any. 
 There. in the cool it was not long before he 
 was asleep. How long he slept he. djd not 
 'know, but when he awoke he did so with a 
 start. What caused it he could not say, 
 whether something had touched him or 
 whether it was. only a frightful dream he had 
 been having. He*did not know where he 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 267 
 
 was. He must have gone to sleep with the 
 impression that he was still in his cave, or 
 else he must have dreamed it, because he felt 
 around for his rock. It was not there. In- 
 stead he was on the ground and the grass 
 around him was wet and he' was chilled 
 through. This is perhaps whdx woke him. 
 At length he had collected his wits sufficiently 
 to realize that he was not in his cave, but was 
 out in the free air. He felt around for his 
 captors. He could not feel them; they were 
 not in reach. He crawled around a few feet, 
 but still could not find them. Again he de- 
 cided to raise his spectacles. He did so, but 
 it was nearly as dark as his cave was. He 
 could see the stars shining overhead. Not a 
 cloud anywhere. What magnificent splendor, 
 a million stars in a cloudless sky ! For a few 
 minutes he was lost to everything except the 
 beauty of the sky above him. 
 
 In a short time he was able to see the out- 
 lines of buildings here and there. He must 
 be in a town, but as he could not see any lights 
 nor hear any sound he could do nothing but 
 wait for daylight. He was afraid to stir 
 around much, though he was very chilly from 
 the dew which had fallen. He walked short 
 distances back and forth to keep warm. He 
 found a rude seat and sat down on it. It was 
 not very long until he fancied he could see the 
 
268 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 gray dawn appearing in the east. It was a 
 fact, lighter and lighter it grew, until he 
 could see the rays of the sun peeping over the 
 eastern hills. What a thrill of joy ran 
 through his soul as he looked at it, the first he 
 had seen in no telling how long! By this 
 time he could see that he was in a strange 
 little tumble-down village. He had never 
 seen anything like it before. The houses were 
 quaint structures. He had never seen such 
 houses before. He could hear the early risers 
 stirring around. All at once he gave a sudden 
 start forward. What was it? For the first 
 time he had noticed himself. What a sight ! 
 He was literally covered with dirt from head 
 to foot. He had not noticed it before; and 
 besides he was a living skeleton. It would 
 not do for the villagers to find him sitting 
 there in that condition, he might be arrested. 
 He got up and started to move away. He 
 walked down the narrow streets out into the 
 country. A mile or two from the village he 
 came to a branch and there took a good bath. 
 By this time the dirt on his clothes had be- 
 come somewhat dry and he was able to brush 
 most of it off. The bath helped him greatly. 
 This done he once more began his journey 
 eastward. Just why he went east he did not 
 know, but he had always heard that when lost 
 if a party would go in the opposite direction 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 269 
 
 from that which he wanted to go he would go 
 in the right direction. He wanted to go to- 
 ward the west; it seemed that was the right 
 direction home, but he disobeyed this, feeling 
 and went east. He entered a broad prairie. 
 Not a house could be seen and only here and 
 there a scrubby tree. There was a trail 
 through it which showed evidence of recent 
 travel. He knew he would go somewhere, so 
 he followed it. Mile after mile he traveled, 
 but not a soul did he see. The sun was shin- 
 ing fearfully hot, and he was famishing for 
 water and something to eat. He was all but 
 ready to fall, but he kept his courage up by 
 the thought that before long he would be 
 started for home. At length in the distance 
 he saw a clump of trees. Should there be no 
 water there, there would at least be shade 
 where he could rest. He pushed on. It 
 seemed to go from him faster than he was go- 
 ing to it. It seemed to take him a week to get 
 there, but he was well paid for the effort for 
 it was a cool, shady place, though there was 
 nothing but a standing pool of warm water, 
 but it cooled his parching tongue and face. 
 
 After a long rest he moved on. Way long 
 toward sundown he fancied he could see in 
 the distance a forest. It might be trees, or it 
 might be a cloud just above the horizon. At 
 any rate, it lay in the direction he was going 
 
270 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 and it served to keep up his courage. Before 
 sundown he could plainly see that it was a 
 forest. He pressed on with the hope of find- 
 ing some one. It was nearly sundown before 
 the forest was reached. It was not really a 
 forest, it was merely a few scattered bushes 
 on the prairie. He kept going, and soon 
 after passing through this forest he climbed 
 to the top of a hill. On top of this hill he 
 could see the last rays of the setting sun. The 
 twilight had set in, but down below the foot 
 of the hill a mile or more away he could see 
 what he took to be a river, and near the bank 
 he could see a small house. He reached this 
 place before dark, and to his delight the 
 house was inhabited. He now found out for 
 the first time where he was. He was on the 
 banks of the Rio Grande River, and on the 
 Mexican side of it. Again luck was in his 
 favor. 
 
 There was a ferry at this place, so he could 
 cross. A Mexican kept a ferry on one side 
 of the river, while there was an American on 
 the other side. The Mexican carried him 
 over. The Mexican could speak English, and 
 he told him that he could find lodging on the 
 other side with the American ferryman. He 
 knew that he was an American. You can far 
 better imagine his feelings than any one can 
 describe them when he set foot on his native 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 27 1 
 
 soil. The feeling was akin to that which he 
 experienced when his captors brought him 
 that milk. He made his way to the ferry- 
 man's house and asked for lodging. He was 
 a great big fat jolly fellow who saw his tired, 
 worn-out condition, and he gave him a warm 
 reception. Supper was over, but he had little 
 appetite. 
 
 A stage line ran from this place to San An- 
 tonio, the nearest railway station. The stage 
 left for this place at five o'clock next morn- 
 ing. He got a good night's rest for the first 
 time in many days. He found out how long 
 he had been gone from home. He had been 
 captured on May 2nd and now it was June 
 3rd, a whole month. Next morning at five 
 o'clock he left for San Antonio, and reached 
 that place that night at ten o'clock. Only a 
 wait of half an hour and he was thundering 
 across the long prairies, leaving vast stretches 
 of distance behind him. He was going home ! 
 As he thundered along over the prairies the 
 subject of his kidnapping came to him again, 
 and the question why, but still it was as dark 
 as it was on that fateful May day. If it had 
 been an enemy punishing him he certainly 
 went at it in an expensive manner; besides, he 
 did not know of any enemies he had. It was 
 not an enemy, that seemed certain. Perhaps it 
 was a crowd of fellows who were after a ran- 
 
272 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 som. Such things had been done a thousand 
 times, and no doubt this was another case. 
 Still, his people were poor, or at least he had 
 no rich relatives, and all of them could not 
 have raised a great ransom; and yet the ac- 
 tions of the four men would indicate that this 
 was the object they had in view. The night 
 after his arrest, when they took the train the 
 first time, two of the men had left them, and 
 they did not appear again until the day he was 
 released from the cave. He argued that these 
 two had returned to get the ransom while the 
 other two guarded him. But there were 
 things which argued against this theory. In 
 the first place, he never heard of bandits kid- 
 napping a person for a ransom and then starv- 
 ing him nearly to death. And again, if it had 
 been kidnappers for a ransom they cer- 
 tainly would not have carried him to the end 
 of the world, or at least it does not seem they 
 would. Besides, if money had been their ob- 
 ject why did they not take the $150 from 
 him? He could not reach any satisfactory 
 reason why he was kidnapped. 
 
 But, anyhow, he was free and thundering 
 along mile after mile over broad prairies, go- 
 ing home ! It was a long, weary pull through 
 them. He thought they never would end. 
 Minutes seemed like hours and hours seemed 
 like weeks. The farther he went the slower 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 273 
 
 the train seemed to go. At last they reached 
 the Arkansas border and the long prairies 
 were left behind. He had to stay in Texar- 
 kana three hours, so he passed the time by 
 taking a bath and getting into some new 
 clothes, the first opportunity he had had. He 
 made that city a present of his cave outfit. 
 Very much refreshed, he began the long jour- 
 ney across Arkansas. He reached Little Rock 
 and had to wait six hours before he could get 
 a train for his home station. At last it came, 
 and again he was moving rapidly homeward. 
 The train did not go half so fast as his flying 
 desires to get home were going. 
 
 At last the station was called out, and he 
 was so impatient and nervous he ran over 
 nearly everybody trying to get out of the 
 train. It was nearly sundown when he got 
 to the station, and he lived eight miles in the 
 country. As soon as he could do so he had a 
 carriage ready and he was on his way home. 
 His impatience increased all the time. On 
 top of the hill a mile from town he could see 
 the dome of the court-house silhouetted 
 against the eastern sky. It was home ! Look ! 
 Home once more after an absence of a month. 
 What memories the dome of the court-house 
 brought back. He could see that fateful May 
 day when he left home. 
 18 
 
274 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 Before he reached town it was nearly nine 
 o'clock. He met several people leaving town, 
 but he did not stop to inquire as to news ; his 
 impatience was too great, he could not stand 
 to lose one moment. On into the little town 
 he drove. He sent the driver to the livery 
 stable with the team, preferring to walk up 
 to the house. Two or three stores had lights 
 in them, and he could hear familiar voices 
 which he knew well; still, he pressed on 
 through the town and on home. All of a sud- 
 den he stopped short. What was it? Look! 
 Behold the light shining out of his window, 
 the light of home. He had seen it so many 
 times before as he had walked up that nar- 
 row walk. He stood there and gazed at it. 
 What tender memories it brought back! The 
 fondest of his life. At length he moved 
 nearer. His heart was beating like an en- 
 gine. He was almost ready to collapse. 
 Time and again he had to lean on the fence 
 for support. How long it took him to get 
 to the gate he did not know. He had come 
 two thousand miles wrapped up in all manner 
 of impatience to get home, and now he was at 
 home and for the life of him he could not 
 enter. Oh, if that awful moment was only 
 over! The shock which his sudden entrance 
 would occasion, shock to him and his loved 
 
SENTIMENT AND STORY 275 
 
 ones, was something fearful. He knew that 
 he had been mourned as dead. 
 
 When he got to the gate he could see his 
 wife and babies in the house with three or 
 four other people. Softly he entered the 
 gate, and with noiseless tread he moved 
 toward the house. He reached the cedar tree 
 ten feet from the window and leaned against 
 it for support. He could see his wife sitting 
 with her head in her hands and the babies 
 playing on the floor. Long and tenderly he 
 looked upon the scene, but for the life of him 
 he could not enter. His wife came to the 
 window, and placing her hands so as to shade 
 her eyes, looked out. How pale and wan she 
 was! Did she see him? No, for she re- 
 turned to her chair. Why she did not hear 
 his heart beating he did not know. For a 
 few minutes she sat there in a sort of stupor, 
 not seeming to notice any one, and again she 
 came to the window. Should he move ? He 
 would if he could, but he could not. 
 
 At last the thought came to him that he 
 must get control of himself, that much de- 
 pended upon it. Otherwise his entrance 
 might result seriously. How long he stood 
 there he did not know, but he heard the clock 
 strike nine — that familiar sound. It gave 
 him strength, he pulled himself together, and 
 was soon as quiet as if he were only coming 
 
276 SENTIMENT AND STORY 
 
 home in his usual way. But he must proceed 
 with caution, it would not do to enter without 
 warning. He walked back to the gate, 
 opened it, and then gave it a gentle slam. 
 He could see his wife from the gate. She 
 got up quietly and started for the door as 
 though on an errand, but he knew his signal 
 had been heard. As soon as the gate was 
 closed he started briskly up the walk. She 
 was coming ! — and so was he ! She rushed 
 into his arms, there was a mighty hug, and 
 then she fell to the ground lifeless. The 
 shock was too great. 
 
 When the poor fellow saw what the result 
 was his mind was unbalanced, he knew no 
 more, and to-day he is still in the same condi- 
 tion. He talks only of the time when he left 
 home and what happened to him while gone 
 and his return home ; but he thinks his wife 
 is still living, and when he tells of his home- 
 coming it is touching to see the expression 
 which comes over his face. It seems that he 
 can see his wife coming to him.