CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1772.C5 
 
 Christmas in Narragansett 
 
 3 1924 021 977 511 
 
iim 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021977511 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT 
 
 BV 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT HALE 
 
 AUTHOB Off " THB POBIUMBS OP BAOHBL," " OUR CHBISTMAS IN A PALACE," ETO. 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 10 AND 12 Det Stbebt 
 
 1884 
 Ml Bights Besened 
 
 LONDON 
 
 44 Fleet Street 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1884, by 
 
 FUNK & WAGNAILS, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PA8K 
 
 Ann Hutchinson's Exile 14 
 
 The Goyeknok'b Dinner 16 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 One Cent— a Chmstmas Stout 43 
 
 Scene I.— Down ; Scene II. — Up ; Scene III. — ChriBtmas. 
 The Happy Island 55 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 Cbomwell's Statue , 85 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Ballad of Ben Pkajtklin at the Inn 106 
 
 The Retubn Message 113 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The SuKviyoB's Story 118 
 
 The Penny-a-Liner's Story — The Schoolmistress's Story — The 
 Inspector of Gas-Metera' Story — The Wheeler and Wilson's 
 Operative's Story — The Conductor's Story — The Wife of 
 Biddeford's Story— The Stoker's Story— The N. E. Histori- 
 cal Genealogist's Story. 
 
 PiLCHABDS — A Love Stokt 137 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Law and Gospel 161 
 
 I. — Choice ; II. — Indecision ; III. — Experiment ; IV. — Intro- 
 duction ; v.— Her Visit; VI.— The German; VII.— Pre- 
 sumption ; VIII. — Decision. 
 
IV CONTEKTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB Vir. PAGE 
 
 Colonel Ingham'b Jotjbnbt 186 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 East and Wkst , 206 
 
 The Tiirbe ANNrvrEKSABiBS 217 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Cottage on the Viminal 220 
 
 Next His Hand 341 
 
 Chapter I. — The Siege ; Chapter II. — Despair ; Chapter 
 III.— The Retreat ; Chapter IV.— The Battle of Chalons ; 
 Chapter V. — The Feast of Kings. 
 
 Dick's Christmas 264 
 
 I.— Flight ; II.— Safety ; III.- Dick's Christmas ; IV.— Whither 
 Now ? V. — The Sbah ; Chapter the Last. 
 
 CHAPTER THE LAST. 
 The Palatine 286 
 
OHEISTMAS rN" E"AIiEAGA]S"SETT. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Colonel Ingham sat on Ms horse where the rough 
 road ascends from Perch Cove. He was himself super- 
 intending the erection of a telephone wire. 
 
 Quite a wondering crowd surrounded him. He had 
 summoned one or two of the fishing gang to help — stout 
 fellows, who had been aloft in a gale, and were not 
 afraid to sway back and forward if the wind blew. 
 Tom Grinnell, the singing gaberlunzie, who looks in 
 upon all the people along the shore from Pint Judy 
 Pint as far as the G-ilmans, at Norwich Town, was look- 
 ing on. A belated Italian, with his bear, working south- 
 ward, could not resist the attraction. Oliver was there 
 — half Indian, half negro, half white man, and general 
 purveyor. He had a Chinaman's yoke on his neck, and 
 bore clams in a pail hanging from each arm of it. The 
 telephone interested him, as it interested all the neigh- 
 bors — his time was of little value to him, for he had all 
 the time there was — and he laid aside his burden for the 
 moment, to render any needed assistance. Indeed, the 
 neighborhood lived, in a fashion, on the feudal system. 
 
 Colonel Ingham, then, sat on horseback watching 
 Larkin, who, at the top of the pole, was handling his 
 monkey-wrench and driving his bolts as skilfully as if he 
 had been standing at a comfortable work-bench. 
 
6 CHRISTMAS IK NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 " That will hold," said Larkin, cheerily, " through 
 another September gale." 
 
 "Kin Jemimy "Wilkinson walk on it?" said the 
 gaberlunzie. He meant on the wire. Jemima Wilkin- 
 son was one of tlie prophetesses of that region, and, in 
 her time, was said to walk, or not to walk, on the waters 
 of Perch Cove. 
 
 " Et'll be a very handy thing," said Oliver to the 
 colonel, " and the neighborhood '11 be much pleased that 
 et's finished." Such were the congratulations on the 
 final opening up of the south part of the King's County 
 to the rest of the world. 
 
 Meanwhile Larkin, who had needed no ladder to 
 ascend the post, had sUd down, had gathered his tools 
 and laid them in Tom Tucker's wagon, and had mounted 
 the horse which the colonel was holding for him. They 
 turned their faces westward to ride to Sybaris, which 
 was the nickname which had been given to the colonel's 
 home. 
 
 " If I had my own way, Larkin," said the colonel, 
 " we would have waited till the year 2999 before we 
 established the wire. 1 have always bragged that I lived 
 six miles from a door-bell or a telegraph. The two 
 things are the same. Each is a knob at the end of a wire, 
 which can make, if it is pulled, an infernal noise. But 
 1 have all these people coming next week, and, though 
 they are sensible people, they will be clamoring for 
 news before they have been in the house five minutes." 
 
 " If they want news," said Larkin, grimly, " they 
 should not come here. When the Thetis went to pieces 
 yonder — say thirty miles away — we learned it two days 
 after, by picking up on the beach the cap of one of the 
 stewards." 
 
 "Just so," said the colonel. "I have always been 
 
CHRISTMAS IN STAREAGANSETT. 1 
 
 glad there was one place in the world where the Khan 
 of Tartary could not tell me his lies. Bat most men are 
 not so wise as you and 1 are. Come np to the house 
 with me, and have something to eat. You shall be the 
 iirst man to try this plaything." And the colonel looked 
 up at the wire. 
 
 At the house, sure enough, they found the world had 
 arrived in fuU force before them. It was not ten min- 
 utes since Larkin had ^lid down the pole. But as the 
 two men entered the hall at Sybaris, the telephone bell 
 was clanging loudly, and the women-folk were in terror, 
 asking each other to attend to the call. No one, how- 
 ever, knew how to stop the bell, and it had not yet 
 occurred to any one to listen at the ear-piece. 
 
 The colonel created quiet, and Hstened. 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 " Colonel Ingham ?" 
 
 "Yes. What is it?" 
 
 ' ' I am Taber at the station. I have a telegram from 
 New York from Mr. Decker on the Newport train. He 
 has a party of four. Shall I send them, or will you 
 send ?" 
 
 " Send them over. Tell them we were waiting for 
 them, and are glad they have come. " 
 
 " That is Paul Decker and his wife," said the colonel — 
 saying to his wife what he knew she knew as well as he — 
 " and the Menets. It is very good to have the Menets 
 too." And they sat down to dinner well pleased that 
 the first voice of this doubted blessing should have been 
 spoken in the line of hospitality. 
 
 The Inghams had been in the habit, for many years, 
 of passing every summer at this place, a comfortable, big 
 old house, in the southern Narragansett country, which 
 
8 CHRISTMAS IS KARRAGANSETT. 
 
 the whim of some of their guests had christened Sybaris. 
 Colonel Ingham is the last man who has visited what is 
 left of the old Sybaris, and he does not dislike to lecture 
 to his friends on its comfortable plans.* This year he 
 and PoUy, and such of the children as were young 
 enough not to be at the grind of life, had stayed longer 
 than usual. And one lovely October morning, as the 
 colonel sat in his birch canoe on the pond watching a 
 sunrise — more marvellous even than the common — as the 
 little craft shot along obedient to his slow paddle, the 
 colonel said to Clara, who lay in the bow : 
 
 " Do you think you could rough it here through cold 
 weather ?" 
 
 " Papa," cried the girl, in delight, "take care what 
 you say !" 
 
 " Would you take the chances of December here ?" 
 
 " Papa, you know we love this place as we love no 
 other place in the world. We should like to come as 
 early as the first day of January, and stay till after mid- 
 night on the 31st of December. " 
 
 " Then," said the colonel, " we will have a Christmas 
 party here. ' ' 
 
 It was to this party that the Deckers and Menets had 
 come^ 
 
 Those who have heard Colonel Ingham preach, or 
 have read his writings, know that he is an enthusiastic 
 New Englander. Like all men of New England blood, 
 he is fond of abusing the climate to which he was bom. 
 At the very bottom of his soul he wishes that the ma- 
 jority of the pilgrims at Leyden had voted to go to the 
 
 * See " Sybaris and Other Homes," by Fred. Ingham. 
 
CHKISTMAS IN NAEBAGAN-SETT. 9 
 
 Orinoco ; in whieli case, dear reader, you and 1 at this 
 moment would be lying under palm trees, peeling fresli 
 bananas, while the india-rubber trees on our plantations 
 dropped their milky sap so that the overshoes might bo 
 rightly made in which the unfortunate North Americans 
 might plunge through the slop and slush of next winter. 
 But, for the sins of his ancestors, Colonel Ingham was 
 born in the " New Society" precinct of South Warwick, 
 in Connecticut. He afterward drifted to many parts of 
 New England, and accounted it his good fortune that at 
 last he found his summer home as far south in that 
 somewhat secluded province, " as a man can go without 
 jumping off," he said. " Climate is the principal 
 thing," he said. " Go for climate." So he had 
 drifted, under the lead of a wiser friend, as far south in 
 New England as a man can go. "When, in the earlier 
 days, a stream of icebergs came grinding southward, 
 scraping off the rough places from the White Mountains, 
 scratching deep with cross furrows all Massachusetts, and, 
 like so many Goths or Lombards, working always south 
 for warm weather and their doom, it was in southern 
 Rhode Island that they scratched their last and gave up 
 the great bowlders which they had carried with them. 
 There lie the bowlders to this day, big and small, making 
 a long comb of little hills, of which the ends are gray 
 stones separate from each other. This ridge of hills is 
 the real southern line of New England. A few million 
 years of ocean tides and storms have thrown up the 
 beach which stretches from Point Judith westward along 
 the shore, and the geologists would tell you that this 
 beach is two miles wide. By which they mean what 
 you and 1 would mean if we said there are two miles of 
 flat, or nearly flat, land, highly cultivated in parts, be- 
 tween the hiU range and the seas. On a high ridge of 
 
10 CHRISTMAS Ilf NAKRAGAKSETT. 
 
 the southern part of these hills is Sjbaris. Farther on, 
 upon the same ridge, is the little Quaker meeting-house 
 where Colonel Ingham sometimes preaches ; it has stood 
 there two hundred years. Farther on is the pretty tract 
 which men still call the ITarragansett reservation. 
 
 In 1675 the woody ponds which fill eveiy little valley 
 in these hills were the favorite haunts of the Narragan- 
 sett Indians, the most courteous — nay, the most civilized 
 tribe of New England natives. In that year Leverett, 
 the Governor of Massachusetts Bay, had an army on 
 foot for the extermination of Philip, King of the Wam- 
 panoags. He could not get at Philip, and, like a big boy 
 at school, bound to hit somebody, he marched a column 
 of a thousand Boston and Eoxbury and Dorchester men 
 across these very hills to the !Narragansett fort, where 
 the best of the Narragansett tribe was wintering. The 
 blow came suddenly. The poor wretches fought well, but 
 hundreds of them were killed, their houses were burned, 
 and the power of their tribe was forever broken. At 
 that time more people lived among these little hills and 
 by these pretty ponds than live there to-day. The 
 wrecks of the icebergs offer little for modem husbandry. 
 The ponds are, in general, too small to be the reservoirs 
 of important streams for factories. Jemima Wilkinson 
 — of whom Oliver spoke with a certain terror — organized 
 a colony near a hundred years ago, which carried away 
 some of the best forces of the region to the West. And 
 in these days, whoever wants to cultivate the ground is 
 apt to follow her and them. 
 
 But for people who like to lead the life of Narragan- 
 setts — to paddle a birch across the lake, to travel without 
 wheel or horse a dozen miles under odorous clethra or 
 azalea or blazing rhododendron, to whom a tall heron or 
 a swooping kingfisher is not an enemy to be murdered, but 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSETT. H 
 
 a friend to be consorted •with — for such as these, the 
 southern Narragansett country still remains much what 
 it was, when the white man added to his inheritance a 
 territory which he did not half know how to use. 
 
 But it was not till this very year of which we are 
 writing that Colonel Ingham had ventured to try the 
 !N^arragansett country in the shortest days of winter. 
 
 He regarded the prompt acceptance of his invitation 
 by Paul Decker and his wife as a good omen. The 
 Henets, who were with them, he knew. He had met 
 them in Paris. The Deckers he did not know. But 
 he knew I knew them. 
 
 I have been intimate with Colonel Ingham all my life — 
 have often done hard work for him, as he has for me. 1 
 was willing enough, therefore, to take a week's holiday 
 at Christmas and start the furnace fire in my own house, 
 not far from his, at his bidding and Polly's. And, as it 
 happened, 1 met the Deckers and Menets at the station. 
 We drove over, across the Big Swamp of King Philip's 
 fight, together, and I left them at the colonel's door as I 
 went on to mine, with the promise that some of us would 
 come round in the evening. 
 
 Accordingly, after I had allotted them time enough 
 for their oysters, their clam chowder and bluefish, their 
 South Down mutton — for so we fondly name our Rhode 
 Island imitation — and guessed that they had done jastice 
 to Ingham's ducks and Polly's apple-slump, cafe frappe 
 and cafe noir — ^when I imagined them fooling over the 
 Black Hamburgs, I slowly walked up the long avenue 
 and entered unannounced, as is the custom, at the door 
 which never had door-bell nor knocker. 
 
13 CHRISTMAS IK KABRAQAN'SETT. 
 
 Menet and Decker and their wives were old friends of 
 mine. I had watched Mrs. Menet from her childhood, and 
 always had been glad to know of her husband's successes. 
 He is the great silver man — Menet, Yille Fosse & Co. — of 
 Arizona. Ton may find all his history, as that of some 
 of the rest of these people, in " Christmas in a Palace," 
 if, by misfortune, the groaning presses do not break down 
 in supplying the demand of the public for that volume. 
 " There should be a copy in every family." Seven for 
 one family is, in fifty-six million people, eight million 
 families. If, then, we manufacture ten thousand copies 
 a day, we shall get through with the " Palace" in two 
 years and two months. Still, reader, there is a chance, if 
 you rise at midnight and take your place early in the 
 hne. 
 
 Menet, I say, is the great silver man ; his wife was 
 Minna Ville Fosse, and taught German in the college at 
 New Padua. Decker was a clerk of Menet's. He met 
 Theodora Bourn, or, more properly, stumbled over her 
 in a snow-drift in the Rocldes — as may also be read in 
 "Christmas in a Palace," when your turn comes, 
 reader.* These two spent the winter together at Piqua. 
 And one day, when he was driving her across the coun- 
 try to a Grange meeting, where he was to speak about 
 mining, he asked her to marry him. And they were 
 married in June, and this is their first visit East since 
 then. 
 
 Now, you know who the people were whom I found 
 with Ingham, and Polly, and Alice, and Bertha, and 
 Clara, pulling grapes to pieces over the dinner-table. 
 
 " I am telling Menet,' ' said the colonel, " that he will 
 have nothing to eat here but what grows on the prem- 
 ises, always excepting — ' ' 
 
 * Number 6,537,238. 
 
CHKISTMAS IN NAEBAGANSETT. 13 
 
 "The exceptions," said Menet, laughing. "1 be- 
 lieve the bread was from a brand a few thousand miles 
 west." 
 
 ' ' Bread, it must be confessed, is an unfortunate neces- 
 sity," said the colonel. "But 1 tell Menet, also, that 
 he will have to be used to our people." 
 
 " You talk as if I were not a raw-boned Yankee, with 
 high cheek-bones, and preferring to talk through my 
 nose. Minna, there, is the foreigner." 
 
 " He is always throwing my German blood in my 
 teeth," said the charming Mrs. Menet. "He knows I 
 am ten times as much of a Yankee as he is. He always 
 comes to me about his genealogy. 
 
 " Why, I found for him a thread of Hutchinson blood 
 in his veins, of which he knew nothing ; and I intro- 
 duced him, at Block Island yonder, to a lovely girl, who 
 had that perfect Ann Hutchinson face. Degenerate 
 son ! he did not know the pretty creature was his cousin. " 
 
 I looked at Clara Ingham — who is allied with the 
 Hutchinson race — and asked her if she would not sing to 
 us her father's Hutchinson ballad. The girl went to the 
 piano, and her father explained : 
 
 " You should know that all your ancestors, when they 
 were exiled from Massachusetts for conscience' sake, had 
 to come here — or most of them. Like most exiles for 
 conscience, they were a good deal better off than they 
 were among the people who cared to exile them. So we 
 have constructed a tradition, for which there is good 
 foundation, that Hutchinson and his children came 
 trailing along this road between the hills and the 
 sea." 
 
 "They could not help themselves," said Bertha, 
 eagerly, " for there was no other road." 
 
 And Clara sang : 
 
14 CHBISTMAS IN KAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 ANN HUTCHINSON'S EXILE. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 1. 
 
 "Home, borne — where's my baby's home? 
 
 Here we seek, there we seek, my baby's home to find. 
 Come, come, come, my baby, come ! 
 We found her home, we lost her home, and home is far behind. 
 Come, my baby, come ! 
 Find my baby's home ! " 
 
 2. 
 The baby clings, the mother sings, the pony stumbles on ; 
 
 The father leads the beast along the tangled, muddy way ; 
 The boys and girls trail on behind ; the sun will soon be gone. 
 And starlight bright will take again the place of sunny day. 
 "Home, home — Where's my baby's home? 
 
 Here we seek, there we seek, my baby's home to find. 
 Come, come, come, my baby, come 1 
 We found her home, we lost her home, and home is far behind. 
 Come, my baby, come 1 
 Find my baby's home ! ^ 
 
 The sun goes down behind the lake, the night fogs gather chill, 
 
 The children's clothes are torn, and the children's feet are sore. 
 ' Keep on, my boys ; keep on, my girls, till aU have passed the hiU, 
 Then ho, my girls, and ho, my boys, for fire and sleep once more!" 
 And aU the time she sings to the baby on her breast, 
 ' Home, my darling, sleep, my darling, find a place for rest ; 
 Who gives the fox his burrow wiU give my bird a nest. 
 Come, my baby, come ! 
 Find my baby's home !" 
 
 4. 
 He lifts the mother from the beast, the hemlock boughs they spread, 
 And make the baby's cradle sweet with fern leaves and with bays. 
 The baby and her mother are resting on their bed, 
 He strikes the flint, he blows the spark, and sets the twigs ablaze. 
 ' ' Sleep, my child, sleep, my child ! 
 Baby, find her rest. 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSBTT. 15 
 
 Here beneath the gracious skies, upon her father's breast ; 
 Who gives the fox his burrow will give my bird her rest. 
 
 Come, come, with her mother, come ! 
 
 Home, home, find my baby's home !" 
 
 5. 
 The guardian stars above the trees their loving vigil keep ; 
 The cricket sings her lullaby, the whippoorwill his cheer. 
 The father knows his Father's arms are round them as they sleep ; 
 The mother knows that in His arms her darling need not fear. 
 "Home, home, my baby's home is here ; 
 
 With God we seek, with God we find the place for baby's rest. 
 Hist, my child, list, my child ; angels guard us here. 
 
 The God of heaven is here to make and keep my birdie's nest. 
 Home, home, here' s my baby' s home ! ' ' 
 
 "If the snow holds off," said the colonel, "and I 
 think it will, we will take you along the Queen's Eoad, 
 which you have hardly seen yet, and you can fix the 
 place for the ballad. "We call it the Queen's Road now, 
 since good Queen Anne set it in order for us and estab- 
 lished her mail route upon it. It was before only an 
 Indian trail, which they called Matanuck, which meant 
 ' the other way. ' ' ' 
 
 " As one might say ' Heterodox,' " said Menet. And 
 the colonel, who is a bit of an Independent, like most 
 Rhode Islanders, was well pleased. 
 
 " 1 told my wife," said Mr. Menet, " that they would 
 burn her in the Bay yonder if she asked for cranberry on 
 Christmas Day with her salt fish. But when she asked 
 me how it was that we came to Rhode Island for Christ- 
 mas, I could not tell her when you relaxed from the 
 stei'nness." 
 
 " To tell the truth," said the colonel, laughing, " the 
 people in the Bay yielded to the dinners. For me, I was 
 sent to school in Boston on Christmas Day all through 
 my childhood, and should have never known the day as 
 
16 CHRISTMAS IN NAEBAGANSETT. 
 
 dififerent from another but for the presents of a degene- 
 rate New York cousin. But you know how even old 
 Sewall hungered for the flesh-pots — he that hung the 
 witches." 
 
 No, the Menets did not know, to Colonel Ingham's 
 great delight. He sent Alice for Sewall's diary, and read 
 the passages where the governor invited the rest of the 
 council to his Christmas dinner and passed Sewall by. It 
 was his martyrdom. Salt fish and drawn butter at 
 home, with wrath, rather than roast turkey and every- 
 thing good at the Province House. 
 
 " And thereby hangs a tale," said Ingham, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, read it, papa, read it !" cried the children. 
 
 And after a little pressure Colonel Ingham yielded, 
 and read to us the story of 
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S DINNER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 They were in the old council chamber of the old State 
 House in Boston. 
 
 In those days men were more apt to call it the Town 
 House. 
 
 This was the old Town House, which was burned 
 down in the horrid fire of 1712. That fire was fourteen 
 years after the time we write about. 
 
 The old Town House stood where our dear Boston 
 friends see their " Old State House" every day when 
 they go down to State Street to draw their dividends. 
 
 It was in the Council ^Chamber of the old Town 
 House — as I was saying when you interrupted me — that, 
 as the Council broke up after a sufficiently stupid ses- 
 sion, the day before Christmas, Master Danforth talked 
 with Major Cooke, Captain Sergeant talked with Gen- 
 
CHKISTMAS Iir KARKAGAKSETT. 17 
 
 eral Winthrop, but Judge Sewall stood alone, while 
 Colonel Hutchinson was talking with Lord Bellomont. 
 
 Judge Sewall was not used to standing alone, and he 
 did not like to stand alone ; .all the same he stood alone, 
 and the rest laughed and talked together. 
 
 Before the day was over, the secret came out why 
 Judge Sewall stood alone. All secrets are sure to come 
 out, some time or other. 
 
 The governor was to give a dinner-party the next day, 
 and while he had asked General Winthrop, and Master 
 Sargeant, and Colonel Hutchinson, and all the rest to his 
 Christmas dinner, he had not asked Judge Sewall. 
 
 Judge Sewall was a little silent at his own dinner that 
 day, and when in the afternoon half the Council came 
 in, pretending to talk about some matter of afifairs, he 
 knew very well that that was not what they came for. 
 
 The thorn was well down in the bottom of the judge's 
 heart, and he knew Major Cooke would drag it out be- 
 fore he went away. 
 
 Sure enough, as they threw on their cloaks in the 
 ample hall of old Father Hull's house, and as they tied 
 scarfs round their ears against the biting cold, Major 
 Cooke asked the judge if he would be at the governor's 
 dinner the next day. 
 
 The major knew perfectly well that the judge was not 
 asked, and everybody knew that he was not asked. The 
 judge said, without telling a lie, that he knew nothing 
 of the governor's dinner. Nor did he ; nor what the 
 dhmer was to be. But he knew that it was Christmas 
 Day, and he knew what a Christmas dinner was likely to 
 be, and he knew that they knew that he knew it. 
 
18 CHRISTMAS IX NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 CbAPTEE II. 
 
 Thp truth was that Governor Bellomont was as sorry 
 not to ask Samuel Sewall as Samuel Sewall was not to be 
 asked. But what could a man do ? 
 
 Here had this town of Boston lived and thrived for 
 sixty-nine years. And when Christmas Day had come 
 round, men had hewed their wood and drawn their 
 water. They had split their toughest knots and broken 
 their hardest ice into little blooks ; they had sent the 
 boys to school and set the girls to spin ; they had taken 
 care that the dinner should be a little more plain than 
 common, and if they heard any man whistling in the 
 street on that particular night they set the watch to see 
 that he was not going to a dance-house. On any other 
 night he might have whistled as he pleased. 
 
 Only for the year or two, when Andros the tyrant had 
 been here, had there been any Christmas dinners at the 
 governor's. And when Andros the tyrant gave a 
 Christmas dinner, he knew very well whom to ask and 
 whom not to ask. But now Andros the tyrant had 
 gone. 
 
 And Lord Bellomont is not a tyrant in the least. To 
 be sure on Sunday he goes to the King's Chapel, because 
 it is the King's Chapel ; but he goes to Thursday lect- 
 ure on Thursday, and the countess goes to Thursday 
 lecture. 
 
 Lord Bellomont was walking back from Thursday 
 lecture one day with the gentlemen of his suite, and they 
 passed the apothecary, lounging at his shop-door. 
 
 " Oh, my dear doctor," said the lord, " you have lost 
 a precious lecture this morning!" 
 
 "T should have gone, my lord," said the wretch, 
 " had I been paid as well as your lordship for going." 
 
CHKISTMAS IX NAEEAGAKSETT. 19 
 
 For men will say that Lord Bellomont lives in Boston 
 and not in New York, his other capital, because this 
 colony pays him better than New York does. 
 
 So Lord Bellomont is no whit of a tyrant. He is a 
 loving and peaceful governor, who lets us have our own 
 way if we pay him two thousand pounds a year for it, 
 and among other things goes to Thursday lecture. Such 
 a governor is no tyrant, and he will not ruin us even if 
 we do have roast beef and roast turkey to eat on the 
 twenty-fifth of December. ,'; 
 
 And Lord Bellonplont and the countess will have roast 
 beef and roast turkey, and they will have oyfeter pies, 
 too, and roast partridges, and they will have squash pies, 
 and cranberry pies, and minced pies spelled with the 
 letter y. Marlborough pyes have not yet come in. 
 
 And they will have a great plum-pudding, boiled in a 
 bag, and when it is brought upon the table Lord Bello- 
 mont's lackey will pour a glass of brandy over it, and, 
 just as he stands at the door, the cook will set fire to the 
 brandy, and he will bring it in, all blazing, to the table. 
 
 And every gentleman of the Council and every magis- 
 trate in the tovra will be at the dinner excepting Samuel 
 Sewall. 
 
 Now, Samuel Sewall, the judge, has been as courtly 
 to Lord Bellomont as any man of them all. Did not he 
 take the countess to the top of Cotton Hill the other 
 day ? It is all dug down now, Emma, and you cannot go 
 there. I had a good crying-fit the last time I went 
 there when 1 saw the horses and the carts and the men 
 who dug it down. 
 
 But that was the year 1 was twelve years old. If you 
 want to see the view which Judge Sewall showed the 
 countess, go to 15 Pemberton Square, and ask Mr. Ladd 
 to give you the key to the attic-stairs, and put your head 
 
20 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGAH-SBTT. 
 
 out of the open scuttleway, and look around, and you 
 Tvill see. 
 
 Judge Sewall showed the countess the view, and then 
 he brought her down through the gateway of the garden 
 . — which opened about opposite where the Museum is 
 now — and when she said she had been charmed with the 
 view, he said he was glad, and might he not call the gate 
 Bellomont Gate afterward ? And she tapped him with 
 her fan, and said : 
 
 " Why, you are quite a courtier, judge. 
 
 And then he asked her into the house, and Betty 
 SewaU brought her a glass of better Madeira than she 
 had ever drank in her life, on a bigger silver waiter than 
 there was on the Bellomont sideboard. And she said 
 pretty things to Mistress Sewall, and Mistress Sewall said 
 pretty things to her. And this was so few weeks ago, 
 and yet the governor has not asked the judge to his 
 dinner. 
 
 The truth is, the governor is too well-bred to ask the 
 judge to dinner. The judge is the last of the old Puri- 
 tans ; he would whip any of his smallest children who 
 cracked a walnut or ate a raisin because Christmas Day 
 had come. And if any of the larger children went to 
 the King's Chapel on Christmas Day to see the ever- 
 greens or to hear the singing, why, the judge would put 
 them on bread and water for a week. 
 
 Lord Bellomont is a good-natured man ; he does not 
 want to hurt anybody's feelings, and so he does not ask 
 the judge to dinner ! 
 
 And, on the other hand, the judge would have died 
 before he went to dinner, only — and this is human 
 nature, dear George and dear Harry — only he would 
 have liked to say "No." It was not becoming that 
 Major Cooke should ask him if he were going, and he 
 
CHRISTMAS IN- NARRAGANSETT. 21 
 
 have to confess that he had not been asked ! What will 
 people say ? What will the church-members, even, say ? 
 What will the freemen say ? And what will this rough- 
 scrnfE of those who are not " freemen" say ? 
 
 Christmas comes on Sunday this year, and the other 
 gentlemen, as soon as meeting is over, will wear their 
 gay red cloaks and will loiter outside the governor's 
 house, so that people can see them. The major and the 
 colonel will clatter in from the country on horseback — 
 the major with his black boy, the colonel with that old 
 Indian whom he has made a lackey of, to take care of 
 their horses. Then the boys in the street will know that 
 they go to the governor's dinner. Then the boys will 
 wait to see Judge Sewall's carriage ; it is the only car- 
 riage in town. They know that he will be going, of 
 course, and he will not be going. By eight o'clock 
 Monday morning, in every barber's shop in the town, the 
 news will be told that Governor Bellomont did not ask 
 Judge Sewall to dinner, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 For us, who read this story, more things depended on 
 that gap in the table than the mortification, great or 
 small, of the rejected guest. 
 
 The countess knew that this was a State occasion as 
 well as the judge. The countess was a woman, and she 
 therefore knew some things which the Earl of Bellomont 
 did not ; for he was only a man. The countess had 
 therefore advised, and advised pretty earnestly, that the 
 judge and his wife should be invited ; the countess 
 thought they would come, in truth. Whether they 
 came or not, she remembered the glass of Madeira, and 
 she did not want them to be mortified. 
 
32 CHKISTMAS IKT NARRAGAKSETT. 
 
 But the earl had been stanch, and he said, "IS'o." 
 He represented His Majesty, and he was not going to be 
 rebuffed by any man, though he was a good-natured 
 earl. All the same, the countess kept open two seats till 
 the very last. 
 
 " I tell you," said she, " that you can do it by acci- 
 dent, as it were ; you can do it without any fuss. You 
 can one half invite him, and take the rest for granted ; 
 or I shall meet her, and I will ask her, and then she will 
 make him come." 
 
 And the earl had let it stand in this mixed-up way till 
 the very last. This was because he was a man. But 
 Christmas morning came, and there had been no chance, 
 and no invitation had been given. Twenty-four plates, 
 all marked with the Bellomont crest, had been set on the 
 table the night before, and Lady Bellomont had only 
 twenty guests certain, beside her husband and herself. 
 Who shoidd HU the two vacancies ? 
 
 Thus it happened that when the governor and his 
 party went to church that morning, the countess had to 
 come to the attack again. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " nothing has been heard from 
 the judge, has there ?" 
 
 " Of course not," was the reply. 
 
 " Then," said the jolly countess, " never speak to me 
 again, unless you bring some gentleman home with you. 
 I will make Martha put on her silk dress, and she shall 
 fill one seat, if you will only make sure to fill another ; 
 but I wiU not have an empty seat at my table on Christ- 
 mas Day." 
 
 Whether the governor would have remembered or 
 not, I am sure 1 do not know. But so it happened that 
 when the parson had well advanced in ' ' Dearly beloved 
 brethren," there was a little clatter at the door of the 
 
CHRISTMAS ISr NARKAGAlirSETT. 23 
 
 little chapel, and steps were heard up tlie little aisle. A 
 handsome young man, whose ruffle and boots showed 
 plainly to every girl in church that the ruffle was not cut 
 by a Boston snip, nor the boots made by a Boston cob- 
 bler, was led up the aisle by John Beadle. He was 
 made to sit in the form, almost empty, which was oppo- 
 site the governor's, and just in front of the reading-desk. 
 The Countess of Bellomont did not look round till they 
 came to the Creed ; but after she had looked round she 
 looked round again ; and, by and by, under pretence of 
 handing to the governor the right psalm in the Psalter, 
 she took occasion to say : 
 
 ' ' The young gentleman in the form opposite will do ; 
 bring him home to dinner." 
 
 And, at last, the Christmas sermon of the parson was 
 done. It was according to the true Episcopal standard 
 of those days— twenty minutes in length, and of no 
 depth at all, or breadth either. The well-bred and 
 courtly worshippers, perhaps a hundred in number, 
 stood and waited — first for Dr. Miles, the minister, and 
 then for the governor, to pass. Lord Bellomont himself 
 bowed courteously to the young stranger, who was thus 
 preordained to be the twenty-fourth person at his table. 
 The stranger was standing in the form of Master Tur- 
 frey. The governor loitered a little in the porch, shak- 
 ing hands with the more distinguished of the worship- 
 pers, and courteously wishing them a Merry Christmas. 
 As Master Turfrey approached him among the last, 
 the governor even stepped forward cordially ; and, as he 
 put out his hand to that gentleman, he bowed again to 
 the handsome young stranger. Master Turfrey, well 
 pleased, named him to the governor. 
 
 "Let me present to Your Excellency," he said, 
 ' ' Master Grove Hirst, one of our townsmen, who has 
 
24 CHRISTMAS IN NARKAGANSETT. 
 
 just returned from London. He came in in Shepherd, 
 this morning." 
 
 This meant that Master Hirst was a passenger in a 
 ship of which John Shepherd was the master. The gov- 
 ernor saluted the young man courteously, detained him 
 for a minute or two, in conversation on his voyage and 
 the news he brought from England, and thus he was able 
 to extend to him the invitation which the countess had 
 suggested — that he should join them at their Christmas 
 dinner. 
 
 " You shall have as good a bit of beef as you would 
 have had in England, Mi'. Hirst, and 1 think. Dr. Miles, 
 that the turkey will be better. " 
 
 The young man, all amazed at the ease with which 
 honors were distributed in the new order of things, was 
 no such fool as to hesitate. He gladly took the goods 
 the gods had provided. 
 
 The governor's procession went on, and Master Hirst, 
 who had gained audacity in his foreign travels, said, with 
 alacrity, " 1 think this is Judge SewaU and Madam 
 Sewall, is it not ?" 
 
 The young gentleman had never seen either of them 
 in his life. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The governor, and the parson, and the countess, and 
 young Master Grove Hirst walked down School Street 
 together, for even if the governor's carriage had arrived 
 — and 1 do not think it had — he would not have used it 
 for so short a journey. 
 
 The governor and the parson walked in front, and 
 Master Grove Hirst and the countess walked behind, and 
 behind them walked Mistress Martha Ooote, and 1 don' t 
 know how many others of the governor's suite. 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NA.RRAGANSETT. 25 
 
 So it made in all quite a little procession. And as the 
 powers ordered which had any hand in the management 
 of this story, just as they passed Master Cheever's house 
 — the Master Oheever who kept the school in those days, 
 ■ — they came full on Judge Sewall, and Mistress Sewall, 
 and Betty Sewall, and Joe Sewall, and all the little 
 Sewalls, who were walking up School Street from the 
 old South Meeting-house toward Cotton HiU. 
 
 So all the Bellomont party had to lift their hats and 
 drop their courtesies to all the Sewall party, and all the 
 Sewall party had to do the like to the Bellomont party. 
 
 And this had to be done, even more carefully than an- 
 other day, because the governor had not asked Judge 
 Sewall to dinner, and every one except Master Grove 
 Hirst knew that he had not asked him. 
 
 Master Grove Hirst was quite at ease, because he did 
 not know. He was quite at ease, until, as he lifted his 
 hat for ceremony, he saw the pretty face of Mistress 
 Betty Sewall. Here all mere ceremony vanished from 
 well-bred Master Grove Hirst, and he bowed profoundly 
 as he recognized the girl. And she, ah me ! she was 
 prettier than ever, as she blushed to her eyes in the sud- 
 den recognition. 
 
 Captain Tuthill was walking by her side. He was 
 rather dull, but I don't think even he was so dull but 
 that he observed the special politeness with which Master 
 Grove Hirst bowed to the young lady. 
 
 You see, it was more than a year ago since Grove 
 Hirst had seen Betty Sewall, or as much as heard her 
 name. It was a year ago last July that Betty Sewall 
 was on a visit with her cousins at Salem. And one 
 afternoon, on a frolic, they had all gone over in a boat 
 to Marblehead Neck. And there had been a clambake 
 on the shore. And who should appear at the clambake, 
 
36 CHEISTMAS IK NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 among other young men and maidens, but Master Grove 
 Hirst ! And Master Grove Hirst and Miss Betty Sewall 
 — well, they had spent most of the afternoon together at 
 the clambake. 
 
 1 don't know what he said to her, and I don't know 
 what she said to him. I dare say most of it was non- 
 sense. Indeed, 1 never heard a word of it. But I am 
 sure that this Christmas, when Miss Betty Sewall met 
 Master Grove Hirst, she remembered a good deal of it, 
 and 1 know that he remembered every syllable, and 
 could have written it all down if it were necessary. 
 
 But the very day after the clambake, Master Grove 
 Hirst had gone out in a brig laden with barrel-staves to 
 Lisbon. And from Lisbon he had gone to Leghorn, and 
 from Leghorn he had gone back to Marseilles, and from 
 Marseilles he had gone to Lisbon again, and then he had 
 found another brig of his father's, and from Lisbon this 
 time he had gone to Bristol, and from Bristol he had 
 gone to London, and from London he had gone back to 
 Marseilles ; then from Marseilles he had gone back to 
 London again, and so it was that for near a year and a 
 half he had never heard a word of pretty Mistress Betty 
 Sewall. 
 
 Still, Master Grove Hirst had remembered Mistress 
 Betty Sewall all the same, and 1 am afraid that Betty 
 Sewall had remembered him, although she had heard no 
 word of him in these seventeen months. 
 
 And this was the reason why Master Grove Hirst 
 bowed so profoundly when he met the young lady. As 
 1 have said, Captain Tuthill was not pleased that Mr. 
 Hirst bowed so profoundly, but the captain could not 
 help himself, and he was fain to make no remark on the 
 occasion. 
 
 When the Sewall party arrived at old Father Hall's 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSETT. 37 
 
 house, about where you stop to-day if you want to buy a 
 plaster from Mr. Metcalf, Captain Tuthill had to bid 
 Betty Sewall good-day. Had it been any other day but 
 Christmas, Judge Sewall would have asked that gentle- 
 man in to dinner. For he was hospitable, and he knew 
 that Captain Tuthill had a good estate. It would have 
 been very queer had he not guessed also how much Cap- 
 lain Tuthill liked Betty Sewall. But it was Christmas 
 Day, and by the same token that Lord Bellomont could 
 not ask Judge Sewall, Judge Sewall could not ask Cap- 
 tain Tuthill to dine. 
 
 So the captain went wof ully away. 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 And so it was that the Keverend Dr. Miles and Mr. 
 Grove Hirst were the first guests to arrive at the gov- 
 ernor's dinner. 
 
 But it was not long before generals, and colonels, and 
 jadges, and their wives began to appear. They were all 
 a little frightened, perhaps ; for they knew, every 
 mother's son of them, and every father's daughter of 
 them, that their fathers and mothers would have died 
 before they would have bowed down to such idolatry. 
 But they had quieted their consciences in some way, and 
 here they were. The men rubbed their hands in front 
 of the cheerful hickory fire. The women gathered in 
 little knots, scrutinized each other's dress, and said little. 
 
 " We should treat these gentlemen well, dame," whis- 
 pered the governor, as Wait Winthrop and Mr. Adding- 
 toncamein. " They give us our bread." 
 
 " Never fear me with the gentlemen," said the jolly 
 countess ; " only you take care of the ladies." 
 
 And, to tell the truth, the earl's share was harder than 
 
38 CHEISTMAS IN NAEBAGANSETT. 
 
 the countess's. But he did his best, and before long he 
 had the pleasure of seeing all the twenty-four chairs 
 filled. Master Grove Hirst, as the last comer, and of the 
 lowest rank, sat half way down the table. He had taken 
 into dinner Miss Martha Coote, a cousin of the gov- 
 ernor's — the same lady who would have been overseeing 
 the cook in the kitchen had Madam Sewall and her hus- 
 band come to the dinner. 
 
 The talk went on as briskly as it might. But where 
 there is a little awkwardness at the bottom, even a cor- 
 dial earl and a jolly countess find that things drag a little. 
 They had pounded away on the last news from Captain 
 Kidd — on the messenger who came from the Penobscots 
 on Thanksgiving Day, on the reason why wheat had 
 been blasted, on the misfortune to the oysters in the 
 Plymouth colony. The governor had kept the Madeira 
 going pretty freely, and the dame had pressed everybody 
 to eat turkey from the thirty-five-pounder before her, 
 till they could eat no more. 
 
 At last, in despair, the earl spoke down the table, 
 where Mr. Grove Hirst had been keeping up small-talk 
 with Miss Martha Coote. 
 
 " Did you see the Czar, Mr. Hirst, in London ?" 
 
 " I had very good luck, my lord. He came on board 
 Captain Shepherd, with a party of Muscovites. They 
 wanted to see some of our New England ways." 
 
 " Ah ha ! Indeed ! So you could teach the wild 
 bear a thing or two." 
 
 " Did he hiig very hard ?" said the countess, from her 
 end of the table. 
 
 " Not so hard but that I am here, my lady. To say 
 the truth, they all liked the good Jamaica our cap- 
 tain gave them ; and when he treated with some figs 
 we had on board, they ate them as Mashpee Indians 
 
CHRISTMAS IN" STAREAGAlirSBXT. 29 
 
 would have done. Their tooth is as sweet as any sav- 
 age's." 
 
 "I like a good fig myself," said the earl, " and I 
 hope your good friend Shepherd has not given them all 
 to the Czar." 
 
 At this there was a little laugh, and Mr. Hirst hastened 
 to say that he was sure Captain Shepherd would give 
 the earl a chance to see what cargo he had brought with 
 him. And so a safe subject was well introduced, and 
 what with Peter the Great, and the fire at Whitehall, 
 and Lord Portland's mission to France, the dinner went 
 forward bravely, till the plum-pudding and the burning 
 brandy came. 
 
 And before the dinner was over Mr. Grove Hirst vvas 
 in prime favor with the earl and the coimtess, and every 
 counsellor and every magistrate knew it. Pretty well 
 for a young man twenty-three years old, who had fol- 
 lowed the sea for half his life and had never dined with 
 a governor before. But such are the chances on which 
 turn the fate of kings and of nations. What would have 
 happened to Mr, Grove Hirst if Judge Sewall had been 
 asked to dinner, I am sure I do not know ! 
 
 CHAPTEB VI. 
 
 Betty Sewall had made very short answers to Captain 
 Zachariah Tuthill as they walked up the hill together, 
 and I am by no means sure that she knew what she said 
 to him. I think she would have known if she had not 
 met Grove Hirst. But, to tell the truth, the moment 
 she saw him her mind ran back to the Marblehead rocks 
 and to that pleasant summer afternoon. 
 
 It was only a day or two after that Betty Sewall's 
 father went round to see Mr. Mico. He pretended he 
 
30 CHRISTMAS IN NAKBAGAKSETT. 
 
 went to inquire about some lumber which Mr. Mico 
 wanted to sell. But he did go to inquire about Captain 
 Zachariah Tuthill. 
 
 Mr. Mico said that he never heard any ill of him. He 
 said he was in good business and like to be in better. 
 Pie said his estate was six or seven hundred pounds. He 
 said if he had a sister whose father was going to settle a 
 thousand pounds on her, he would be glad to have Cap- 
 tain Tuthill ask for her. This was all Judge Sewall got 
 from Mr. Mico, and this the judge told his wife, and 
 this Madam Sewall told Mistress Betty. But I appeal to 
 any good girl to know whether she thinks this amounted 
 to a great deal. If Captain Tuthill had been tender and 
 entertaining and unaffected — in short, if he had been 
 " nice," this would all have been very well. But as it 
 was, to know that old Mr. Mico had never heard any ill 
 of him was certainly very little. 
 
 "Why," said Miss Betty, pertly, but truly, "I do 
 not suppose Mr. Mico ever heard any ill of old Koeket." 
 
 Now, old Rocket was the Indian who cleaned the 
 judge's boots and split the wood for the judge's fire. 
 
 But it made no difference what Mistress Betty said. 
 Thursday night came round, ten days after Christmas, 
 and, after the candles were lighted, Betty found herself 
 sitting alone. Her father and mother had gone over to 
 Mr. Willard's, to see about Mrs. Moody's funeral. So 
 the judge said ; but Betty knew it was so they might be 
 out of the way. None of the boys or girls were at 
 home, and Betty knew that they had been sent off. She 
 was " mad as fire," as she told Eunice Scott afterward ; 
 but the poor girl could not help herself, or thought so. 
 So, at seven o'clock came the knock at the front door, 
 and then that grinning Dinah showed in Captain Zacha- 
 riah Tuthill. He was got up in his best sailor finery. 
 
CHKISTMAS IS NARKAGANSETT. 31 
 
 A gold chain from the Congo coast hung at his fop. A 
 great turquoise blazed on his finger, and his ruffles, said 
 Betty, when she told Eunice the next day, looked as if 
 they had been starched by the Queen of Ashantee. 
 
 Captain Tuthill urged his suit, a good deal as he might 
 have urged the men in the tops to take in the topsail in 
 a gale. At least, so Betty pretended, when she saw 
 Eunice. I am afraid Betty exaggerated. But, on the 
 other hand, I am afraid he was a little peremptory. As 
 for Betty, she was at first silent, then she screwed herself 
 up to the point. She succeeded in keeping her temper, 
 and she succeeded also in saying, " No." 
 
 Then the captain was more peremptory. 
 
 Betty was still civil, but she was as firm as the rocks 
 below Mr. Eliot's meeting-house. 
 
 Then Captain Tuthill was indignant, and talked about 
 what her father had said, and what Mr. Mico had said, 
 and what he had expected. Then Betty's wrath waxed 
 hot. She told him that he didn't know how to speak to 
 a gentlewoman. She stood up and opened the door and 
 asked him to go. 
 
 And when the captain blundered out an apology and 
 talked about his love for her, the girl's rage upset her 
 completely. She told him that if he stayed in that 
 room a moment longer she would call old Socket, and 
 old Rocket should put him out of the door. 
 
 This was outrageous in Miss Betty ; but, as has been 
 said, she had been put in an outrageous mood. Captain 
 Tuthill went out of the door without Rocket's assistance. 
 Then Betty Sewall ran up crying to her room, and flung 
 herself on her bed. 
 
33 CHRISTMAS IK STAKEAGAIirSETT. 
 
 CHAPTER Til. 
 
 Meanwhile, Master Grove Hirst had been following 
 his hand, as the ungodly saj'. But no such wanton ex- 
 pressions were spoken or heard in circles where Batty 
 Sewall moved. 
 
 On Monday morning a package of the choicest figs 
 had gone to Lady Bellomont with Mr. Grove Hirst's re- 
 spectful duty. The same afternoon a box of a dozen 
 bottles of Alicant went to Lord Bellomont, to his private 
 room at the Town House, with Mr. Grove Hirst's hum- 
 ble respects to His Excellency. 
 
 "Within a day or two Mr. Grove Hirst had been sent 
 for to see His Excellency. His Excellency had given 
 the young man a very courteous reception ; had talked 
 with him about English politics ; had asked about his 
 next voyage, and in every way had shown that he would 
 be his friend. Nay, he had asked him to call and see 
 the countess, and this the young man was fain to do. 
 And this time the bright young courtier asked if he 
 might have the privilege of presenting to Mistress 
 Martha Coote a little box of feathers which he had 
 brought from Nantes with him. He was told that they 
 were quite the mode at the French court. 
 
 Really, Master Hirst, for a youngster who went to 
 Nantes to barter salt codfish for olives, you are coming 
 on very well ! 
 
 And Judge Sewall saw Mr. Grove Hirst once and 
 again at the Council Chamber. But the audacious 
 youngster could contrive no way in which to bo pre- 
 sented to Judge Sewall. The wound in the judge's 
 heart was too sore. All the town knew who took his 
 place at the governor's Christmas party. 
 
 In the judge's ej'cs Mr. Grove Hirst was, to all men, 
 
CHEISTMAS IK NAKRAGANSBTT. 33 
 
 the visible symbol of his disgrace. Whatever other man 
 the judge would speak to in the little town, he would 
 not speak to Mr. Grove Hirst. And, as you know, the 
 jpoor judge has many things just now to make him testy. 
 Here is Mr. Mico enraged with the treatment of his 
 friend. Here is Captain Tuthill coming in, three times 
 a day, to know when he may see Mistress Betty again. 
 And Betty's eyes are red and her cheeks are pale every 
 time the judge sees her. Every way the poor judge is 
 very unhappy. But, all the same, he blunders on^ for 
 he is only a man, though he be a magistrate ; and he 
 tells Captain Tuthill to try again. He tells him that 
 "faint heart never won fair lady." And Captain 
 Tuthill sends round to Madam Sewall, with his respect- 
 ful duty, a Panama basket with two ostrich eggs in it, 
 and some cowries and other shells. And Betty Sewall 
 laughs like a wild creature, and says this is what the 
 King of Ashautee — for so she chooses to dub Captain 
 Tuthill — has sent for purchase-money. Mark you, I do 
 not know that Captain Tuthill was in the slave-trade. I 
 only know that Betty Sewall said he was. 
 
 Poor Betty Sewall ! 1 can almost forgive her if she 
 were a httle enraged. The week before Christmas she- 
 did not speak of Captain Tuthill as if he were the King 
 of Ashantee. When Eunice Scott, and Miriam Adding- 
 ton, and Esther Aspinwall, and the other girls talked of 
 Captain Tuthill, whom they had met at a husking -party 
 at the Williams's, in Eoxbury, nobody had called him 
 the King of Ashantee. And even on the morning of 
 Christmas Day, when he called at the judge's house, and 
 walked down to meeting with Madam Sewall, nobody 
 called him the King of Ashantee. And, when meeting 
 was over, and her father and mother went first, nobody 
 called him the King of Ashantee. It had only been 
 
34: CHRISTMAS IS NAKRAQAHSETT. 
 
 since she met Grove Hirst tliat day that she had called 
 him the King of Ashantee. 
 
 And what was Grove Hirst to her ? the poor girl 
 kept saying. "Why should she be thinking of Grove 
 Hirst morning, noon, and night, and between whiles ? 
 Grove Hirst showed no signs of thinking of her ! Here 
 it was a fortnight or more since Christmas. All the 
 other girls had seen Grove Hirst, and she had not seen 
 him. Poor Betty did not remember that she would 
 not go to Madam Sergeant's quilting, and that it was 
 after the quilting that the other girls saw him ! Poor 
 Betty did not know that Grove Hirst was at meeting on 
 New Tear's Day, and waited at the wrong door, in hope 
 of at least bowing to her again ! Poor Betty forgot that 
 she would not go to meeting in the afternoon ! Poor 
 Betty forgot everything but that people wanted her to 
 marry the King of Ashantee, and that she hated him ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 And Madam Sewall had to tell Betty that the captain 
 was to call again. Betty was very wild ; she would only 
 say that she expected him — that after he had paid the 
 ostrich eggs he was entitled to his wife. Poor Dame 
 Sewall tried to laugh at this. She would have soothed 
 Betty if she could, but Betty would not be soothed. 
 Her mother told her to be ready in the evening to see 
 him. It was a very quiet table at tea-time, you may be 
 sure ; and in the evening, at last, he came. 
 
 But where was Betty ? She was here just now. 
 There is the stocking she was mending, and her ball of 
 yarn. The captain looked round meekly ; Madam 
 Sewall was courtesy itself, and so was the judge. At a 
 nod from their mother the children took their books 
 
CHKISTIIAS IJT N-ARRAGANSETT. 35 
 
 into the kitclien. Talk dragged a little, and at last the 
 judge said, "Will you call Betty, my dear ?" 
 
 So Madam Sewall went to call Betty, and at last she 
 called very loud ; but no Betty came. And Madam 
 Sewall sent the boys to Mr. Cotton's, and even as far as 
 Captain Southack's and the Endicotts'. The boys were 
 to say that their sister must come back for a very partic- 
 ular reason. The girl's hood and her hat were in her 
 room. Madam Sewall came back with an anxious look, 
 and said Betty would soon be there. 
 
 And Judge Sewall and the captain droned on and on 
 about cowries and Congo and the middle passage. And 
 Betty did not come at all. The captain stayed an hour, 
 and went away in a rage. 
 
 Then Madam Sewall told her husband, and then he 
 was well frightened. He put on his cloak and went 
 out ; he even demeaned himself to ask the watch if they 
 had seen her. Poor man ! He went down to the dock 
 and looked weakly over. There was a sort of joy to him 
 to see the ice, which he had forgotten. But how many 
 coves there were, where a wild girl might run down upon 
 the ice, and who should say how far she would go 
 then? 
 
 Poor Judge Sewall ! He came home sadder than 
 ever ; and as he passed the governor's house there was 
 music and dancing. Could they dance so, and his poor 
 Betty stark and cold in the bay yonder ? 
 
 " No, Hannah, 1 have not found her !" 
 
 " And she is not here !" sobbed his poor wife. 
 
 So they sat an hour, or sat and stood, or they walked 
 the room, looked out at the door, and sat again. 
 
 It was not tiU the clock pointed to eleven that quietly 
 the door opened and Betty came in. 
 
 " My dear child, where have you been ?" 
 
3G CHRISTMAS IN ITARKAQANSETT. 
 
 ' ' ' Where sliould 1 be, my dear mother ? 1 have been 
 sitting in the coach in the coach-house !" 
 
 "Was the girl stark mad ? 
 
 No, I think she was not stark mad ; but I think she 
 would have been had she not gone into the coach-house. 
 Sometimes our good angels take better care of us than 
 we take of ourselves. 
 
 When the horrid knocker sounded, when the judge 
 went into the hall to meet his guest, when her mother 
 passed round and snuffed the candles, Betty had stepped 
 out at the side-door, run tlu-ough the back entry, and, 
 wholly without being noticed by Dinah or by old Eock- 
 et, run across the plank path to the coach-house, where 
 stood the judge's carriage. The carriage was crowded 
 on one side so that the sleigh and the ' ' booby-hut," as 
 the Boston of that day called a coach on runners, might 
 be ready. 
 
 The girl caught up a bear-skin and wrapped it round 
 her, and sank into the corner of the carriage, sobbing. 
 
 For two minutes there was dead silence. Then, tap 
 — tap — tap at the door. 
 
 Betty did not breathe. 
 
 Tap^ — tap — tap. 
 
 Still she made no answer. They had driven her to 
 the walls, and now they might send for the watch or the 
 sheriff. But she would not surrender. 
 
 Tap — tap — tap, and then the door is flung open. 
 
 A man comes in. Betty does not move. He crosses 
 the light of the open doorway. She does not breathe. 
 
 '• Mistress Betty, Mistress Betty. Can 1 not serve 
 yoii in any way ?" 
 
 No answer. 
 '■ "I beg your pardon for breaking in on your privacy. 
 But if you knew how I had sought to see you. Indeed, 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAREAGANSETT. 57 
 
 Mistress Sewall — 1 was — I was watching your window 
 from the hill-top. I saw you cross the court — and — and 
 1 made so bold as to come in. ' ' 
 
 The girl did not sxDsak then. But she sobbed. And 
 the young man knew where she was, and came where he 
 could speak in low tones. 
 
 She sank back in the great carriage, sobbing. The 
 young man did not know what to do, and he did the 
 right thing without knowing it. This was because he 
 acted on the impulses of a gentleman. Grove Hirst 
 turned to the open sleigh beside him and took out a 
 heavy wolf -skin. Re wrapped it around the lady, as if 
 he were making her ready for a sleigh-ride. He 
 asked her if her head rested easily, as simply as if 
 it were a matter of course that she should be sitting 
 there. 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes !" stammered the poor. girl. And 
 then she rested, and, after a moment, " Now, please 
 leave me — leave me alone." 
 
 " 1 will leave you, if you say so," said the young man, 
 respectfully, ' ' but I cannot leave you till I tell you why 
 I came. It is not only since Christmas Day, it is since 
 that day at the beach, that I have thought of you, and 
 hoped for you, and prayed for you, every hour of my 
 life, Mistress Betty. Every day since I landed here I have 
 wanted to say as much to you, but your father is dis- 
 pleased with me, 1 know not why. I sent a basket of 
 fruit to you, and he sent it back again. I made bold to 
 send a letter, and the Indian brought it to my lodgings 
 again within an hour. If this is at your order, I will 
 receive your judgment, like a man. But I am proud, 
 and 1 will take my fate from no lips but yours. " 
 
 Betty had sprung up in the carriage, and had her foot 
 upon the step. 
 
38 CHRISTMAS i]sr nakragansett. 
 
 " They sent back your letter ?" cried she ; " then I am 
 a prisoner indeed !" 
 
 For an instant the young man was as happy, perhaps, 
 as he ever had been in his life. But for an instant only. 
 The girl had fallen back on the seat and was sobbing, 
 almost hysterically. The youngster did not know what 
 to do or to say to comfort her. 
 
 " Shall 1 call your mother ? shall I call your maid ?" 
 
 " Call nobody. Do not speak aloud," said Betty, 
 almost whispering. And then when he hesitated a mo- 
 ment, " I am very foolish ; do not think 1 am bold," and 
 she laughed, "for I am frightened to death. It is be- 
 cause 1 am frightened that 1 say what I say. Please do 
 not go away," and she laughed again. " That's a pretty 
 speech for a girl to make, but 1 am so frightened. 1 
 must stay here. Nobody must know it. And I dare 
 not stay here alone." 
 
 Now is your chance, Mr. Grove Hirst, to show your- 
 self what you are — a gentleman through and through. 
 
 The youngster bowed most respectfully, as he might 
 have done to his queen. " I am so glad I can serve 
 you," he said, in a whisper. " I will stay till you bid 
 me go. Are you sure you are warm ?" 
 
 And once more, without a single allusion to what he 
 had Said of his own passion — without presuming, even in 
 a breath, to inquire as to her secret, he assumed the tone 
 which he might have taken if she were Mrs. Martha 
 Coote — if she were sitting in a chair at the governor's and 
 he standing at her side, with a hundred people looking 
 on. In a minute the girl had recovered her composure 
 in the contagion of his. In a minute more she had 
 almost forgotten where she was, as the young man skil- 
 fully used up the time in inquiries about their Salem 
 friends and in other connnonplace. And when she was 
 
CHRISTMAS IN STARRAGAKSETT. S9 
 
 at last at ease, and did forget herself so that she could 
 speak like the gentlewoman that she was, he cherished 
 every word, so simply but so grandly ! And he an- 
 swered what she said about his travels so modestly ! 
 And then what he said — it was just what a gentleman 
 should say. It was what a gentleman should have seen 
 — it was told as a gentleman should tell it. 
 
 Ah me ! how the time flew by ! It is absurd to say 
 they forgot where they were ; but the truth was, they 
 often did forget it. Please to remember that he had 
 been waiting for this hour for a year and six months 
 more. They both started when the hall-clock struck 
 eleven. 
 
 "It must be ten o'clock," said poor Betty. "He 
 must be gone now. I will go in." 
 
 Grove Hirst led her to the door of the house. 
 
 " When may 1 have the honor of waiting upon you ?" 
 said he. 
 
 " That will be for my father to say," said Betty, as 
 proud as ever. 
 
 CHAPTER IX., AND LAST. 
 
 Captain Tuthill came the next day, and spoke with 
 Miss Betty in her father's presence ; but nothing came 
 of it. The next day he came again ; but there was com- 
 pany, and the judge sent him away and bade him como 
 again. I am sure I do not know how often he would 
 have come, but that one day, after the Council, the Earl 
 of Bellomont, with great cordiality, asked Judge Sewall 
 if he would stay a moment for private conference. He 
 then told the judge that he wanted his confidential 
 advice in regard to that knotty matter about the title to 
 Martha's Yineyard. " Young Hirst tells me," he said, 
 " that your notion of such things is worth more than 
 
40 CHKISTilAS IN KAKUAGANSETT. 
 
 tliat of a dozen of our friends here, and tliat all the 
 province says so. I had guessed as much already. They 
 will all be gossiping if I keep you here. Could you and 
 Madam Sewall come and take pot-luck with us to-mor- 
 row at dinner ? And bring your pretty daughter. The 
 countess has taken a fancy to her. Then people will not 
 think that we mean to talk business. ' ' 
 
 The judge walked on air as he went home. But when 
 they went to the dinner the next day, he did not walk 
 on air — they rode in the coach ; and as her father put 
 the wolf-skin over Betty's knee, she remembered who 
 was the last person to wrap it round her. 
 
 It was not quite a family dinner. Besides the gov- 
 ernor's household, was Master Grove Hirst. And at the 
 beginning of the Martha's Yineyard conference Master 
 Grove BKrst was called in ; but long before it was ended 
 he was sitting by Betty Sewall's side, while Lady Bello- 
 mont and Madam Sewall and Mistress Martha Coote dis- 
 cussed the best recipe for diet-drink. 
 
 What did he say to Betty Sewall ? 
 
 1 am sure I do not know ; I only know that the Hirsts 
 of to-day are his great-great-great-grandsons, and hers 
 too. I believe his courtship had its ups and downs ; but 
 in her older years she used to tell the children on Christ- 
 mas Days that none of them would have been there if 
 her father had been bidden to the Goveenoe's dinnee. 
 
 " Is it true. Colonel Ingham ?" said Mrs. Menet, when 
 she thanked him. 
 
 " That is a question you must not ask. AU I can say 
 is, it seems to be true, and you will find the main points 
 of it are in Judge Sewall's diary." 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 The next morning a messenger to our house brought a 
 scrap of paper from Mrs. Ingham, saying that they were 
 to drive along the beach, the tide being low. Would 
 not some of ours join the. expedition ? 
 
 " Messenger to our house" sounds sufficiently grand. 
 The truth is, that as little Will Miller brought over our 
 milk from Saxton's, the colonel hailed him, and threw 
 Polly's note out of the window. But you must allow a 
 conventional phrase sometimes. The boy was " a mes- 
 senger," and if I had chosen to call him " an apostle" 
 you should not have interrupted. 
 
 So it was that when the beach wagon from the colonel 
 rattled along, and Clara and pretty Theodora Decker fol- 
 lowed, each in the saddle, in their trig riding-habits, we 
 added two cavaliers and another beach wagon to the 
 party, and all rode down the drift-way together to Eocky 
 Point.. 
 
 " Drift-way," as the colonel explained to Mr. Menet, 
 is a phrase, not to be found in the dictionaries, to denote 
 a cross-road to the sea by which the sea-weed, the great 
 wealth of our farmers, may be hauled up to their homes. 
 Sometimes a farmer will send nine miles for his loads of 
 this drift, a manure almost ready made to his hand. 
 
 Block Island stood out clear against the southern hori- 
 zon, lifted a little from the sea by a mirage. 
 
 We were at the beach in fifteen minutes. The tide 
 was out, and the smooth gray sand stretched wide be- 
 
43 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAQAlsSEXT. 
 
 tween the little green hills and the sea, delightful to the 
 eye of the riders. They turned tlieir horses westward, 
 where the beach stretches some iifteen miles toward 
 "Watch Hill, and began scampering to and fro. We 
 seniors drew up more quiet ; we lifted Mrs. Menet down 
 from the carriage and seated her, well wrapped, in the 
 most comfortable nook, where a shelter from the wind 
 and an awning, if she chose, from the sun, protected her 
 from too much of either ; and as the low December sun 
 shone on all her person except her face, we told her to 
 imagine the long " Sand Congresses" of July and 
 August, when, in this temple, dedicated to loafing and to 
 talk, hours had flown by, freighted with stories which, 
 alas ! may never be heard again. 
 
 Here has William Hunt, prince of story-tellers as of 
 artists, told of adventures of the ant king, and dug his 
 hole for him in the sand ! Here has Henry Bellows 
 fought over the battles of Round Hill, and made us 
 laugh within an edge of despair as he led us up the Nile 
 or down the slopes of Lebanon ! Here for years to come 
 shall the genial doctor from North Avenue, and the 
 Eoyall professor tell their tales of other lands ! Here 
 shall Colonel Joyce, of Indianapolis, tell how he was 
 walking on the Hue de Eivoli, on the Prado, or gin the 
 beach at Ramleh ! Here, in a temple of talk, we made 
 Menet tell the story of what might happen to a man who 
 lost a cent ! I can never reproduce it with his fun ; but 
 as 1 cut it from a newspaper afterward, here it is : 
 
CHEISTHAS liT KAKRAGANSETT. 43 
 
 ONE CENT. 
 A Christmas Story. 
 
 SCENE I. — Down. 
 
 Mr. Starr rose very early that day. The sun was not 
 up. Yet, certainly, it was too light to strike a match. 
 Ah, Mr. Starr, a match may be an economy ! 
 
 So it was that when, as always, the keys jingled out 
 from his trowsers pockets upon the floor, and the money 
 as well, one cent rolled under the bureau unseen by Mr. 
 Starr. He went down to his work now, after he had 
 gathered up the rest of the money and the keys, and an- 
 swered yesterday's letters. 
 
 Then, of course, he could loiter over his breakfast. 
 
 But not too long. Clara, his wife, was in good spirits, 
 and the boys were very jolly, but Mr. Starr, all the 
 same, did the duty next his hand. He " kissed her 
 good-by," and started down-town. Edgar stopped him 
 to ask for fifty cents for his lunch ; the postman wanted 
 fifteen for an under-paid parcel ; Susan, the maid, asked 
 for ten for some extra milk ; and then he kissed his hand 
 to the parlor window, and was off. 
 
 No ! He was not off. 
 
 For Clara threw up the window and waved her lily 
 hand. Mr. Starr ran back to the door. She flung it 
 open. 
 
 " My dear John, here is your best coat. That coat 
 you have on has a frayed button. I saw it yesterday, 
 and 1 cannot bear to have you wear it at the Board. " 
 
 " Dear Clara, what a saint you are !" One more kiss, 
 and Mr. Starr departed. 
 
 And loyally he did the duty next his hand. He 
 stopped and signed the sewerage petition ; he looked in 
 
44 OHKISTMAS IN NAEKAGAN8ETT. 
 
 on poor Colt and said a clieerful word to him ; he bade 
 Woolley, the fruit man, send a barrel of Nonesuches to 
 old Mrs. Cowen ; he was on time at the Board meeting, 
 took the chair, and they changed the constitution. He 
 looked in at the office and told Mr. Freemantle he should 
 be late, but that he would look at the letters when he 
 came back, and then, ho ! for East Boston ! 
 
 If only you knew, dear readers, that to East Boston you 
 must go by a ferry-boat, as if it were named Greenbush, 
 or Brooklyn, or Camden. 
 
 As Mr. Starr took the street car after he had crossed 
 the ferry, to go into the unknown parts of East Boston, 
 he did notice that he gave the conductor his last ticket. 
 But what of that ? " End of the route" came, and he 
 girded his loins, trudged over to the pottery he was in 
 search of, found it at last, found the foreman and gave 
 his orders, and then, through mud unspeakable, waded 
 back to the street car. He was the only passenger. No 
 wonder ! The only wonder was that there was a car. 
 
 " Ticket, sir," said the conductor, after half a mile. 
 
 Mr. Starr {smiling). " 1 have no ticket, but you may 
 sell me a dollar's worth." [Feels for focketbooh.') 
 " Hello ! 1 have not my pocketbook ; changed my 
 coat." 
 
 Conductor {savagely). " They generally has changed 
 their coats." 
 
 Mr. Starr {with dignity, offering a five-cent nickel). 
 " There's your fare, man." 
 
 Conductor. " That won't do, mud-hopper. Fare's 
 six cents." 
 
 Mr. Sta/rr {well remembering the cent which is, alas ! 
 under tJie bureau, and grovelling for it in both pockets). 
 " I have a cent somewhere." 
 
 Conductor {stopping car and returning five-cent piece). 
 
CHBISTMAS IN IfAKRAGANSETT. 45 
 
 li 
 
 "We've liad enough of you tramps who change your 
 coats and cannot find your pennies. You step o£E — and 
 step ofE mighty quick." 
 
 Mr. Starr dechnes ; when they come to Maverick 
 Square he will report the man to the superintendent, 
 who knows him well. Slight scuffle. Mr. Starr resists. 
 Conductor calls driver. Mr. Starr is ejected. Coat 
 torn badly and hat thrown into mud. Car departs. 
 
 Tableau. 
 
 SCENE II. — UP. 
 
 {Muddy street in East Boston. Mr. Stake, wiping his 
 hat with his handkerchief, solus.) 
 Mr. Starr. " If only Clara had not been so anxious 
 
 about the Board meeting !" {Eyes five-cent piece.) 
 
 ' ' Where can that penny be V ' {Searches in pockets, is 
 
 searching when — ■) 
 
 {Enter e. h. tj. e. span of wild horses, swiftly drag- 
 ging a carryall. In the~ca/rryall two children scream- 
 ing. Speed of horses, 2.4:1.) 
 Mr. Starr. "Under the present circumstances life is 
 
 worthless, or nearly so. Let me bravely throv/ it away !" 
 
 {Rushes upon the span. Catches each horse hy the iit, 
 and hy sheer weight controls them. Horses on their 
 mettle ; Mr. Staee on his. Enter, running, Johx 
 Ceadock.) 
 John Cradock. "Whoa, whoa! Ha! they stop. 
 
 How can I thank you, my man ? You have saved my 
 
 children's lives." 
 
 Mr. Starr {still holding hits). ' ' You had better take 
 
 the reins." 
 
 John Cradock mounts the seat, seizes reins, but is 
 
 eager to reward the poor, tattered wretch at their heads. 
 
 Passes reins to right hand, and with left feels for a lialf 
 
46 CHRISTMAS IK NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 eagle, whicli he thi'ows, witli grateful words, to Mr. 
 Starr. Mr. Starr leaves the plunging horses, and they 
 rush toward Prescott Street. {Exeunt John Ceadook, 
 horses and children.') 
 
 Half amused, half ashamed, Mr. Starr picks up the 
 coin, which he also supposes to be half an eagle. 
 
 It proves to be a bright penny, just from the mint. 
 
 Mr. Starr lays it with delight upon the five-cent 
 nickel. 
 {Enter a street car, l. h. l. b. Mr. Stare waves his 
 
 hand with dignity, and enters car. Pays his fare, 
 
 six cents, as he passes conductor.) 
 
 In fifteen minutes they are at Maverick Square. 
 Mr. Starr stops the car at the office of Siemens & Bes- 
 semer, and enters. Meets his friend Fothergill. 
 
 Fothergill. " Bless me, Starr, you are covered with 
 mud ! Pottery, eh ? Eunaway horse, eh ? No matter ; 
 we are just in time to see Wendell off. William, take 
 Mr. Starr's hat to be pressed. Put on this light over- 
 coat, Starr. Here is my tweed cap. Now, jump in and 
 we will go to the Samaria to bid Wendell good-by." 
 
 And indeed they both found Wendell. Mr. Starr 
 bade him good-by, and advised him a little about the 
 man he was to see in Dresden. He met Herr Birnc- 
 baum, and talked with him a little about the chemistry 
 of enamels. Oddly enough, Fonseca was there, the at- 
 tache, the same whom Clara had taken to drive at Beth- 
 lehem. Mr. Starr talked a little Spanish with him. 
 Then they were all rung on shore. 
 
 Tableau : Dej>artin^ steamer. Crowd waves hamd- 
 Jcerchiefs. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 47 
 
 CHArTER III. — CHRISTMAS — THE END. 
 
 At Mr. Starr's Christmas dinner, beside their cousins 
 from Harvard College and their second cousins from 
 Wellesley College and their third cousins from Bradford 
 Academy, they had young Clifford, the head book- 
 keeper. As he came in, joining the party, on their 
 way home from church, he showed Mr. Starr a large 
 parcel. 
 
 " It's the Alaska's mail, and 1 thought you might 
 like to see it." 
 
 " Ah well!" said Mr. Starr, " it is Christmas, and I 
 think the letters can wait, at least, till after dinner." 
 
 And a jolly dinner it was. Turkey for those who 
 wished, and goose for those who chose goose. And, 
 when the "Washington pie and the Marlboro' pudding 
 came, the squash, the mince, the cranberry-tart, and the 
 blazing plum-pudding, then the children were put 
 through their genealogical catechism. 
 
 "Will, who is your mother's father's mother's 
 father ?" 
 
 " Lucy Pico, sir !" and then great shouting. Then 
 was it that Mr. Starr told the story which the reader has 
 read in chapter one — of the perils which may come 
 when a man has not a penny. He did not speak hastily, 
 nor cast reproach on Clara for her care of the button. 
 Over that part of the story he threw a cautious veil. 
 But to boys and girls he pointed a terrible lesson of the 
 value of one penny. 
 
 " How dangerous, papa, to drop it into a box for the 
 heathen !" 
 
 But little Tom found this talk tiresome, and asked 
 leave to slip away, teasing Chfford as he went aboiit 
 some postage-stamps Clifford had promised him. 
 
48 CHBisTMAS IS :-;arkagaksett. 
 
 " Go bring tlie parcel 1 left on the liall table, and 
 your papa will give you some Spanisb stamps." 
 
 So tbe boy brought tlie mail. 
 
 " What in the world is this ?" cried Mr. Starr, as he 
 cut open the great envelope ; and more and more amazed 
 he was as he ran down the lines : 
 " ' J/wcA Esteemed and Respected Senor — Don John 
 
 Stavr, Knight of the Order of the Oolden Fleece. 
 
 " ' Senoe : It is with true yet inexpressible satisfac- 
 tion that I write this private note, that 1 may be the first 
 of your friends in Madrid to say to you that the order 
 for your creation as a Knight Companion of the much 
 esteemed and truly venerable Order of the Golden Fleece 
 passed the seals of the Chancellerie yesterday. His 
 Majesty is pleased to say that your views on the pacifica- 
 tion of Porto Eico coincide precisely with his own ; that 
 the hands of the government will be strengthened as 
 with the force of giants when he communicates them to 
 the very excellent and much honored governor of the 
 island, and that, as a mark of his confidence, he has the 
 pleasure of sending to you the cordon of the order, and 
 of asking your acceptance.' 
 
 ' ' My dear Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, that is what 
 came to you when that Cradock man threw a cent into 
 the mud for me." 
 
 " But, papa, what are the other letters ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, what are they ? Here is English ; it's 
 from "Wendell. H'm — h'm — h'm. Short passage. 
 "Worcestershire — h'm — Wedgewood — h'm — Staffordshire 
 — h'm. Why, Clara, George, listen : 
 
 " 'I suppose you will not be surprised when I say 
 that your suggestion made on the deck of the Samaria, 
 as to oxalate of strontium, was received with surprise by 
 Herr Fernow and Herr Klee. But such is the respect in 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NAEEAGAKSETt. 49 
 
 wliicli suggestions from America are now held, that they 
 ordered a trial at once in the Royal kilns, the result of 
 which are memoranda A and B, enclosed. They are so 
 much delighted with these results that they have formed 
 a syndicate with the Winkels, of Potsdam, and the 
 Sehonhoffs, of Berlin, to undertake the manufacture in 
 Germany ; and I am instructed to ask you A^hether you 
 will accept a round sum, say 150,000 marks, for the Ger- 
 man patent, or join them, say as a partner, with twenty 
 per cent of stock in their adventure.' 
 
 " I think so," said Mr. Starr. " That is what the 
 bright penny comes to at compound interest. Let us try 
 Birnebaum's letter." 
 
 Gottfried Birnebaum to John Starr. 
 
 a i 
 
 Mt Honoebd Sir : I am at a loss to express to you 
 the satisfaction with which I write. The eminently 
 practical suggestions which you made to me so kindly 
 and freely, as we parted, have, indeed, also proved 
 themselves undoubtedly to be of even the first import. 
 It has to me been also, indeed, of the very first pleasure 
 to communicate them, as I said indeed, to the first direct- 
 or in charge at the works at Sevres, as I passed through 
 Paris, and now yet again, with equal precision also and 
 readiness, to the Herr first fabricant at Dresden. Your 
 statement regarding the action of the oxides of gold, in 
 combination with the tungstate of Bdellium, has more 
 than in practice verified itself. I am requested by the 
 authorities at Dresden to ask the acceptance, by your 
 accomplished and highly respected lady, of a dinner set 
 of their recent manufacture, in token small of their ap- 
 preciation, renewed daily, of your contribution so valu- 
 able to the resources of tint and color in their rooms of 
 
50 CHEISTMA.S IK KAEEAGANSSTT. 
 
 design ; and M. Foudroyant, of Sevres, tells me also, by 
 telegraph of to-day, that to the same much esteemed and 
 highly distinguished lady he has shipped by the San 
 Laurent a tea service, made to the order of the Empress 
 of China, and delayed only by the untoward state of 
 hostilities, greatly to be regretted, on the Annamite 
 frontier.' " 
 
 Mr. Starr read this long-winded letter with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, Dulcinea, yoii will be able to give a dinner 
 party to the King of Spain when he comes to visit you at 
 Toboso." 
 
 So much for Brother Cradock's penny. 
 
 " Dear John, till 1 die I wiU never be afraid to call 
 you back when your buttons are tattered." 
 
 " And for me," said little Jack, " I wiR go now and 
 look under the bureau for the lost cent, and will have it 
 for ruy own." 
 (Enter servants, k. n. l. e., with the Dresden china. 
 
 They meet other servants, l. n. l. e., with the Sevres 
 
 china.) 
 
 Tableau. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 But at this point Mrs. Menet was observed to draw her 
 shawl around her, and the encampment was broken up. 
 For many years the colonel will brag of it, and will say, 
 " Even to December we sit in the open air," the truth 
 being, that, for twenty years, no one has sat there in 
 December before, and that no one will for twenty years 
 more. A sharp whistle brought in the cavorting cava- 
 liers. " We v/ill go home by Green Hill," shouted tha 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAURAGAN3ETT. 51 
 
 colonel ; aud so the horses were turned westward, and we 
 all bowled over the long beach, with the blue Atlantic on 
 our left. And the colonel had a chance to discourse on 
 geology when, in the course of two or three miles, we 
 came to the curious terraces of cobble-stones which are 
 the unexplained marvel of the coast. 
 
 And so, unwillingly enough-, we turned up from the 
 beach, and by another " drift-way" we found the Queen's 
 Koad again, and there the directors of the drive made us 
 turn eastward and go home. The wonders of Queen 
 Betsy's grave, the terrors of Dead Man's Brook, Mr. 
 Baker's pretty cottage on the ISTarragansett Eeservation, 
 and the true spelling of Quonochontaug were all left for 
 some longer forenoon. So was it, that when we all drove 
 up to the colonel's to the meal which that day was called 
 dinner — as the day before it was called lunch — we all 
 had earned our appetites. The young people's cheeks 
 were rosy red, and Mrs. Menet said she could eat any- 
 thing, from grizzly bear round to walrus, she was so 
 hungry. 
 
 It was just as the clam-chowder was served at this tv/o- 
 named meal, that Mrs. Menet and Theodora were telling 
 of their Christmas a year before, snow-bound in the 
 Eockies, and she was descanting on some kindness of 
 that bright, jolly Mrs. Frechette. The colonel heard 
 her through, led her on a little to expatiate on that lady's 
 fun and good-nature, and then said : 
 
 " I thought you might like to see her again, and so 1 
 have written for them both to join our party here. And 
 if your seat was where mine is, you would at this moment 
 see Taber's big beach wagon bringing her and her hus- 
 band by Saxton's house. In three minutes you will be 
 kissing her !' ' 
 
 Theodora sci'eamed, as in this business-like way he 
 
53 CHRISTMAS IS" KAREAGANSETT. 
 
 broke his little secret to her. They are not very cere- 
 monious at the colonel's table, as she had already found 
 out. She ran to the window, and, sure enough, she 
 could see the wagon. In three minutes more all parties 
 were on the stoop of the house, kissing and exclaiming. 
 And even Ingham himself was surprised, for Taber had 
 sent over not one carriage, but two, and in the second 
 were Felix Carter and his wife, with two of their 
 children. 
 
 " Frechette dropped me a telegram to say they were 
 coming, and I thought you would not know how to 
 place them unless we were here. " 
 
 "Are you Felix Carter?" said Mrs. Menet, when 1 
 presented him to her. 
 
 " The same," said Felix, laughing. 
 
 " Are you the man who — " 
 
 " Now I shall know," said Felix, " what I am distin- 
 guished for, what is the ' line of my genius.' Mr. 
 Emerson says, ' Buy books in the line of your genius.' 
 I have always been trying to hnd out what mine 
 was." 
 
 Mrs. Menet said, " Alas ! I cannot tell you. If only 
 you would tell me about mine ! What I meant to ask' 
 was, if you were the man who, having discovered a para- 
 dise in Mexico, calmly deserted it, and spent his winters 
 here ?" 
 
 The story to which Mrs. Menet alluded had been told 
 to her, a year before, when she was snow-bound in the 
 mountains.* 
 
 " I am that very man," said Felix, welcoming the 
 spirited little woman at once into the fraternity or sister- 
 hood of people " with an atmosphere." " And when you 
 
 * See " Our Christmas in a Palace," p. 207. 
 
CHRISTJIAS IN SrARllAGAXSETT. 53 
 
 know this region better, you will not give iis so mucli 
 credit for philosophy." 
 
 " But," said she, timidly, "1 see that the colonel's 
 hospitality is charming. Still — you know — I cannot ex- 
 plain myself. Fergus, I am trying to make Mr. Carter 
 understand that it is not a harsh climate only that makes 
 one leave his home." 
 
 Fergus Menet laughed. 
 
 "Nor is it grizzly bears," said he, "nor any other 
 four-legged or hundred-legged gadflies." 
 
 " Indeed no," said his poor wife. " It is the bores— 
 especially the philanthropic bores — the bores who expect 
 you to abandon all other duties and accept at once their 
 particular scheme for the renovation of the world." 
 
 " Have you none of them here. Colonel Ingham ?" 
 
 "None of them?" said the colonel. "Why, Mrs. 
 Menet, the first morning I lived in this house a lady 
 came over from Providence to ask me if 1 had such a 
 thing as a hundred thousand dollars about me which 1 
 could give toward the establishment of Fitz-Clarence Col- 
 lege in Dakota, which would be sold under the hammer 
 if 1 did not advance the funds. 
 
 " ' Yeh live a good deal out of the way,' said the lady 
 president. ' Et tuk us longer to come here from Boston 
 than it tuk to come from Dakota there. ' 
 
 ' ' ' Madam, ' said I, ' we came as far away as we knew 
 how ! ' But she never saw the sarcasm. 
 
 "We call them all map-peddlers," continued the 
 colonel. " What is that figure of speech by which the 
 larger part gives the name to the whole ?" 
 
 " Eeally," said Polly Ingham, "that was not our 
 name for them. It was dear Mrs. Crapsten's. What 
 awful times they used to have there, before that auda- 
 cious Karl Whitaker invented the island !" 
 
54 CHEISTMAS IJT NARRAGASrSETT. 
 
 " Invented an island ?" 
 
 " Well, if you must be accurate, he invented the use 
 of an island. And Mr. Crapsten, good fellow, chuckles 
 over the story to this day. 
 
 " They do say that Karl's invention netted him five of 
 six million dollars. But, on the Warragansett shore, we 
 care nothing for such trifles. All we want is leis- 
 ure." 
 
 " As Mr. Emerson says, ' A dry roof over your heads, 
 so that you may have a Kttle conversation.' " 
 
 "Precisely so," said Colonel Ingham ; "better is a 
 dropped egg, under a hemlock roof with good society, 
 than &pdU defois gras with a map-peddler or the head- 
 master of a Southern school for the aristocracy." 
 
 "And pray," persisted Mrs. Menet, "how did the 
 Crapstens rid themselves of these gentry ?" 
 
 Her husband laughed. " Minna thinks she may get a 
 leaf for my book. But we have no islands in Arizona. 
 Will the Farallones answer ?" 
 
 " Do you really not know about Crapsten's magnifi- 
 cent success ? Why, it was all published in Harper^ s, 
 long ago. Karl Whitaker and Miss Augusta wrote it 
 out between them." 
 
 And, with this introduction, after lunch, as we sat all 
 wrapped to our chins in rugs on the southern piazza, 
 Clara Ingham began to read aloud the story of 
 
 THE HAPPY ISLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Kling ! ling-a-ling ! 
 
 "How that door-bell keeps at it !" said jolly MrS; 
 Crapsten to her pretty daughter Isabel. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAttANSETT, 55 
 
 "I should tliink," said Isabel, "that it had rung 
 twenty times since we came up to work." 
 
 But both of them were interested in the new mountain 
 dress which they were making, and for the moment 
 neither of them gave another thought to what was pass- 
 ing below. Mrs. Crapsten adjusted the white trimming 
 on the navy blue, Isabel assented or dissented, and both 
 plied needles and scissors for a few minutes longer. 
 
 Kling ! ling-a-Hng ! again. And this time Isabel 
 looked out from the window. " Why, poor papa is 
 having a terrible siege, while we are so quietly at work 
 here. Both Taber's boys are here ; that dumb man from 
 the crossing is here with his carryall ; there are two 
 horses tied at the outside of the stable ; and John 
 M'Ginniss does not disguise his rage as he takes this last 
 team across to the barn. ' ' 
 
 " Can your father have called a Board meeting here, 
 and I forgotten it ?" said Mrs. Crapsten, rather anxious- 
 ly. And she came to the window herself. 
 
 " I think not," said Isabel. " I guess they are map- 
 peddlers. ' ' The girl said this without a ray of humor. 
 " Map-peddlers" had long been the generic term in that 
 family for that immense class of people who, in the pres- 
 ent form of our civilization, come in upon you, with no 
 claim whatever, to grind their own axes or advance their 
 own interests, without the least regard to your conven- 
 ience or to any of your rights. 
 
 " I will see," said her mother, anxiously still. And 
 she sent a girl into Mr. Crapsten's study with tliis note : 
 
 " Shall I make lunch ready for these gentlemen ?" 
 
 But the note came back with a short " No." 
 
 Then Mrs. Crapsten knew that they were all map« 
 peddlers. 
 
56 CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAXSETT. 
 
 If tliis were a drama^ tlie play woulcl open by showing 
 Mr. Crapsten's study, with all these people in it. But 
 it is quite impossible to describe it even in a long chap- 
 ter, though from the worst seat in a theatre all could 
 have seen in an instant. 
 
 Poor JVIr. Crapsten was standing, pale, tired, and con- 
 fused. His desk and papers showed that he had been 
 writing when the invasion began. Around the room, 
 occupying every chair, were strong-minded women and 
 weak-minded men, glaring angrily at the person with 
 whom Mr. Crapsten was talking, or occasionally looking 
 round with pity and contempt upon those who sat oppo- 
 site to them. On one side the room, in a separate group, 
 the secretary of a temperance society which believed in 
 prohibition was abusing to their faces the treasurer of a 
 temperance society which did not believe in it and the 
 grand worthy chaplain of the Sons of Temperance. 
 These gentlemen, indeed, did not agree on many points, 
 but, in different vehicles, they had all come, at the same 
 hour, to ask for Mr. Crapsten's money. On the other 
 side of the room the agent of a life-insurance company 
 which did not have the Tontine principle was civilly 
 telling the agent of a society which did that he and his 
 directors ought all to be sent to the penitentiary. In the 
 background (c. of the play-book) the lady president of 
 the Society for the Protection of Little Ones was saying 
 stinging things to the actuary of the Association for 
 Preventing Cruelty to Children. All this was, so to 
 speak, the by-play, while Mr. Crapsten, tired and pale, 
 explained to Mr. Job Jobson that he could not sign the 
 petition on the Eights of "Workingmen, because, if he 
 signed it, he should have to go to the committee which 
 heard the petition, to plead for it, and that he had not 
 three days to give to that object. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KARRAGANSETT. 57 
 
 "Pardon me," said Mr. Jobson ; "to what object 
 more important can you give three days ?" 
 
 " Do you propose to be present yourself at the hear- 
 ing ?■'' said poor Mr. Crapsten. 
 
 " I ? No, sir. I shall be occupied in more important 
 duties. 1 shall be creating a healthy public opinion." 
 
 " So shall I," said Mr. Crapsten ; and he turned and 
 bowed civilly to Mrs. Miriam Heartsease Pennybacker. 
 
 "Ibeg your pardon," said Dr. Ileebe, the chaplain, 
 " but 1 came before the lady." 
 
 "Yes," said poor Crapsten, "and I think she came 
 after you. Will you go on, madam ?" 
 
 ' ' I am sure 1 am very sorry to take up your time. I 
 know how much occupied you must be. But every one, 
 dear Mr. Crapsten — every one tells me that if 1 can 
 only interest you — " 
 {Enter, e. h. l. e., Mr. and Mrs. White Feather. 
 
 Dumb-show. He presents a ca/rd. Mrs. White 
 
 Feather courtesies. Mr. Crapsten shoios chairs. 
 
 Mrs. Pennybacker resumes.) 
 
 ."1 do not know where 1 was. Oh, yes, I was say- 
 ing, my dear sir, what every one tells me, that if I can 
 only interest you in the cause of childhood — the sacred 
 cause of childhood, my dear Dr. Wilmot — " 
 
 " My name is Crapsten." 
 
 "1 beg pardon! Oh, name — yes, what? My dear 
 Dr. Crapsten, every one says to me that if I can only 
 interest you in childhood— in the sacred cause of child- 
 hood — I am so sorry to occupy your time." 
 
 "How many children have you?" said poor Mr. 
 Crapsten, meaning to be kind. 
 
 " I ? Children ? Sir, 1 said nothing of children. It 
 is the cause of childhood— the sacred cause of child- 
 hood." 
 
58 CHEISTJIAS IS NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 " But, madam, 1 have seven children, and I am — " 
 {Here tJie door opens, and Mrs. Crapsten enters, gloved, 
 
 hooted, pelissed, hatted, and all hut veiled for a drive. 
 
 Enter with her Isabel with her father'' s coat and hat, 
 
 and the maid Jacynth with his overshoes.) 
 
 Mrs. Crapsten. " Indeed, George, you are late 
 already. The Board will need you for a quorum. 
 {Turns to the company.) Tou must excuse my hus- 
 band, ladies and gentlemen ; the Board meets at two, 
 and it is now twelve and three quarters. {To Mr. Crap- 
 sten.) The horses are at the door, my dear — at the side 
 door. {To the map-jpeddlers}) You will find refresh- 
 ment in the dining-room. {To Jactnth.) Show the 
 ladies the dining-room ; the gentlemen will follow." 
 {Exit in triumph with Isabel and Mr. Crapsten, 
 
 L. H. L. E. Tableau of Jacynth and disajypointed 
 
 m^ap-peddlers. ) 
 
 curtain. 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 Tou see, Mr. Crapsten was a simple, pure-minded, 
 unselfish gentleman of large wealth, and as large public 
 spirit. The invasions of such people as have been de- 
 scribed had long since driven him from his palace in 
 Providence to his country house in the Narragansett 
 country. This was what he gained by the departure. 
 Still, none of this imbroglio could have happened but 
 that Ellen M'Grath had been married the week before. 
 
 Ellen M'Grath was a pretty girl, from the north of 
 Ireland, who had been in Mrs. Crapsten's service since 
 she "came over," fifteen years old. She had learned 
 to know a " map-peddler" as far as she could see him. 
 She knew by a certain inborn coup d''mil, like any other 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGAKSBTT. 59 
 
 great general's, whether he had accident policies, or life 
 policies, or fire and marine policies. She knew if he 
 carried subscriptions for cyclopsedias or " galleries of 
 beauty." She knew a lightning-rod man from the pres- 
 ident of an orphan asylum for negroes. And she would 
 never have admitted one of this crew in her master's 
 " study hours." But Ellen M'Grath had been married. 
 She had married Perry Mitchell, as handy a carpenter 
 and as tender a gardener as ever drew a seine for shad, 
 or beat to windward in a south-easter off Block Island. 
 Perry Mitchell would have said of himself that he was 
 " awful handy about most chores ;" but, for myself, I 
 think he never showed himself so sensible as when he 
 persuaded pretty Ellen M'Grath to marry him. 
 
 Still, as yon see, what was joy to him was death to 
 poor Mr. Orapsten. This Nora — Ellen's cousin, who 
 had been imported specially from the neighborhood of 
 Mullingar to take her place — was a good, neat girl, but 
 she did not know the treasurer of the D. E. F. H. M. 
 when she saw him. ISTor could she tell a matron of a 
 Retreat from a lady patroness of Cuban exiles. 
 
 "When Mr. and Mrs. Orapsten and Isabel returned 
 from their drive to the Board meeting— which was 
 simply a gathering of his own family, without guests, 
 around his own dinner- table — the "proctors" were all 
 gone. " Proctors" * is the name given to map-peddlers 
 in the statutes of Edward VI. and Elizabeth, by which 
 statutes their occupations were made felony, being, in 
 fact, the stealing of the time of others with a view to 
 using it for their own behoof. Mrs. Orapsten knew 
 they would be gone. The express train then passed 
 East Greenwich at 3.11, and she knew they would not 
 
 * Proctor. A manager of another man's affairs. — Dr. Johnson. 
 
60 CHllISTMAS IK NAERAQA.NSETT. 
 
 wait for tlie accommodation. Wo ; tliey would cliarge 
 their respective treasurers for "travelling expenses," 
 and would prefer to sleep at home. 
 
 "Not one word was said either in the drive or at dinner 
 about the invasion. The subject was too sore. But 
 after Mr. Crapsten had finished his soup, and had carved 
 the mutton, his watchful wife led him to talk about hia 
 " report" — ^how much was finished, and how much 
 remained to do. Then she led tlie way carefully, and at 
 last made it sure that Isabel would like to go over to 
 Newport for ten days. Then she made it clear that 
 Isabel could not go unless he went. Then she sug- 
 gested that he could take the "report" over to New- 
 port and finish it with Isabel — Isabel could copy and 
 calculate for him. She only wanted a quiet time in 
 Newport while Dr. Harris was seeing to her teeth, and 
 she could not go to him for more than half an hour each 
 day. Then, at Newport there would be no interrup- 
 tions. And at Newport he could have the Kedwood 
 Library. 
 
 The plan was a good plan. More than this, it was 
 Mrs. Crapsten's plan, and she meant to have her way. 
 Most of all, she had it. And the next morning Mr. 
 Crapsten and Isabel drove over to the Pier, and took the 
 Florence for Newport. Two large boxes carried tlie 
 statistics and documents needed for the " Report on the 
 Organization of Emigration." 
 
 Thus was an excellent, industrious, unselfish man, 
 who gave every instant of his life and every penny of 
 his income to the poor, to his country, and the service 
 of his God, driven from the comforts and conveniences 
 of his own house to such as he might hire in a Newport 
 boarding-house, in order that he might escape the in- 
 terruption of those persons who were not content with 
 
CHRISTMAS m NAREAGANSETT. 61 
 
 his serving God in his own way, but wished to persuade 
 him to serve in theirs. 
 
 Before his back was turned Mrs. Crapsten had tele- 
 graphed to her cousin Karl Whitaker ; and Mr. Crap- 
 sten had not been gone an hour before Karl reported to 
 Mrs. Crapsten for duty. He had just resigned his post 
 on the Coast Survey. He loved Mrs. Crapsten as he 
 loved his life, and he would do anything to serve her. 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Crapsten had also sent for Ellen Mit- 
 chell, the bride, and had held high conclave with her. 
 Her honeymoon was so far advanced that in this philan- 
 thropic family it was time that she also should begin to 
 serve the world. 
 
 Karl "Whitaker lent himself, day and night, to his 
 cousin's plans. Nor had any man ever a better " first 
 luff " than Perry Mitchell proved to be. That was, in- 
 ' deed, just what Perry Mitchell was fit for. Before Mr. 
 Crapsten returned, even, the pretty porter's lodge, 
 where the long avenue turns in from the Kingston road, 
 just where Gershom Tucker's house used to stand, had 
 been refitted for Mitchell and his wife to live in. They 
 were established there. And Ellen would have prom- 
 ised on the book, but it was not needed, that never a 
 proctor of them all should pass without her knowledge. 
 The old ice-road, which leads back from the house by 
 the pond a quarter of a mile, to the Eiddell place, was 
 cleaned out, gravelled, and with its grass cut and its 
 shrubs trimmed, it made a very pretty " avenue.' ' The 
 Riddell house had a new coat of paint ; had red baskets 
 with hanging plants, fresh from Newport, hanging on 
 the piazza ; had a flag flying from the cupola ; and rep- 
 resented admirably well, to all wayfarers who might 
 come so far, Mr. Crapsten's own manor-house. In the 
 
63 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGAKSETT. 
 
 large parlor of the Riddell house — with rattan chairs 
 galore, with two large sofas, with four Turkish rugs on 
 the Japanese matting — presided Karl Whitaker. Pie 
 represented Mr. Crapsten. 
 
 The trap was set. Who should be the first buzzing 
 blue-bottle who should come in ? 
 
 CHAPTEB III. 
 
 There was not long to wait. Karl was but half 
 through with his cigarette, as he lay in the hammock 
 the morning after he had taken possession, when the 
 rattle of wheels startled him. He threw the end away, 
 and was at his desk when Oliver Garner (a cross between 
 !Narragansett and Congo he, whom Karl had retained as 
 his familiar) brought in the card of 
 
 S4ugustios S. J-. So^t,tllga,te^ JIM. 
 5a. 3i. Eiistitute ot |BlE!)icine. 
 
 Dr. Southgate was at once admitted. 
 
 Karl explained that Mr. Crapsten was away for the 
 day, but would be very sorry to miss Dr. Southgate, 
 whose name was so well known to him. Dr. Southgate 
 bridled, and put his thumbs in the sleeves of his waist- 
 coat, and stood with his back to the empty fireplace, 
 and explained that he was about to deliver a course of 
 lectures with a manikin, and a stereoscope, and some 
 wax models, and that he would be glad to have Mr. 
 Crapsten head his " bespeak," and at the same time give 
 him the names of the neighbors who would probably 
 take tickets. Karl hstened courteously and attentively. 
 When the doctor had delivered his whole speech, Karl, 
 observant of the cue, took his turn. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAKSETT. 63 
 
 Karl. "It is very curious, my dear doctor, that you 
 should call now. Here is a letter for you, which I 
 directed even after you were in the house. Tou have 
 saved me a postage-stamp." The amazed doctor opened 
 it to read the following lines : 
 
 ' ' My dbae Sir : Could you favor me with an inter- 
 view at your convenience ? 1 wish to see you on some 
 business of Mr. Crapsten's. 
 
 " Respectfully yours, 
 
 " Karl Whitakee. 
 "Little Ceastis, May 11, 1877." 
 
 Karl did not say, and the doctor did not know, that 
 the envelope box on the table held ninety-nine copies of 
 this note ready to be addressed to any proctors as their 
 cards were brought in. 
 
 The pink envelopes in the pink box were similar, but 
 they were ready to address to women. As a card was 
 brought in to Karl, he had simply to address his letter, 
 and all was ready for the visitor. 
 
 To Dr. Southgate he said : " What we wanted to pro- 
 pose, doctor, was this : We have an establishment for 
 the higher education of boys and girls at Fernando Key, 
 off Florida. I have — no, Mr. Orapsten has with him — a 
 letter, which I cannot show you, therefore. But no 
 matter. Just what we want is a professor of physiology, 
 who would not be unwilling to act as physician, and per- 
 haps to assist in the singing in the chapel on Sundays. 
 What his full duties would be I cannot tell. In fact, 
 doctor, if you took the place, you would make it very 
 much for yourself. Of course you would not think of 
 accepting till you had seen the place. But what I 
 should propose would be that you should take a few 
 weeks and go down and see it. ' ' 
 
64: CHKISTMAS IN STAKRAGAIfSETT. 
 
 Dr. Southgate was surprised, and tried to conceal his 
 surprise. He was delighted, and tried to conceal his de- 
 light. With the ordinary delusion of an ignorant and 
 under-bred man, he tried to make Whitaker think he 
 was constantly receiving such proposals. With the inex- 
 perience of a man who had never served mankind, and 
 had never been asked to serve it, he was amazed at the 
 simplicity by which a sincere offer was made. Of course 
 he grasped at it, though he pretended not to. To be 
 cared for for three months was more than his fondest 
 dream an hour before. When should he go ? 
 
 Karl. " To say truth, doctor, we send off a schooner 
 with some of the Institute to-morrow from the Pier. 
 Could you not spend the night with us here, and sail 
 from the Pier to-morrow ?" 
 
 Doctor. Mumble, mumble, mumble — " my baggage 
 and" — mumble, mumble, mumble — " my classes — " 
 
 Karl. " We have a little stock of clothing of assorted 
 sizes, from Fenno's, for the colony. Suppose I fit you 
 with a pea-jacket and appurtenances for the voyage ? 
 And when you come back — eh ? you see ?" 
 
 Doctor. Mumble, mumble, mumble — "institute" — 
 mumble, mumble — " vacation" — ^mumble — " term-time. 
 My size is forty-five, outside measure" — mumble, mum- 
 ble, mumble. 
 
 At the end of which Karl stepped to the door, paid 
 Taber's boy, and sent him back to the station. And the 
 doctor stayed. 
 
 Before this was settled Mrs. Claudia Jane Springer — 
 sister of the founder and principal of the Young Ladles' 
 Institute at Elmer, Mississippi — entered. Had called to 
 ask Mr. Crapsten to head her subscription list, and pre- 
 side at a public meeting on the subject of Southern edu- 
 cation and the closing of the Bloody Gulf. 
 
CHRISTilAS IIT NAERAGAKSETT. 65 
 
 Karl (to Mrs. Speingee). " It is very curious, madam, 
 that you shoiild call now. Tour name is hardly dry on 
 this note, which I wrote this morning. Only I had not 
 your address. I mislaid the Journal of last Wednesday. " 
 (Mrs. Speiitgeb opens the note, -fluttered and with in- 
 terest.^ 
 
 Karl. " You need not read it, madam. The truth is, 
 what we want — what Mr. Crapsten wants, 1 mean — is to 
 establish an institute of instruction among these people 
 — virtuoiis but benighted, dear Mrs. Springer — on the 
 coast of Florida. Mr. Crapsten has a right in an island 
 there, called Fernando Key ; and if you, madam, or 
 some lady of your reputation and force of character," 
 etc., etc., etc. 
 
 Mrs. Springer. "My engagements with my sisters" 
 — mumble, mumble, mumble, etc., etc., etc. 
 
 Karl. " 1 hare thought of all that ; but you know — 
 Of course we are overrun with apphcants. Just look at 
 that pile of letters, and this boxful, not yet filed " (sar- 
 donic smile). " In a word, dear Mrs. Springer, it is not 
 every day that we could find a lady of your intelligence, 
 of your culture, of your training to business, and, let me 
 say, as between friends, of your presence. If Mr. Crap- 
 sten insists on anything, it is that the leaders in this 
 enterprise should be ladies who were born ladies, and 
 gentlemen of good family. Might 1 introduce you to 
 Professor Southgate, who is to take the Professorship of 
 Physiology in the institute, and will lunch with us, while 
 I see the people who are waiting ?" 
 (Stage direction. This scene is varied hy the frequent 
 
 entrance of Olivee Gaenee, l. h. l. e., with silver 
 
 salver and cards. Door-hell passim. Exit Mrs. 
 
 Speingee, e. h. u. e. Enter Feed Boeeman, l. h. 
 
 L.E.) 
 
66 CHRISTMAS IK KAERAGAKSETT, 
 
 Fred Boremcm (looTcing round). " Mr. Crapsten ? I 
 expected to see Mr. Crapsten — my classmate Crapsten. ' ' 
 
 Karl {rises to meet him). " Mr. Crapsten is in New- 
 port to-day on business. But he will be sorry to miss 
 you, Mr. Boreman. I have just addressed this note to 
 you. " 
 
 Fred Boreinan {opens note and reads). " How fort- 
 unate ! lie asks me to call. A pity he is away. 
 {Aside.) The first man who ever asked me. {Aloud^ 
 We are old friends — near friends. Lived in the same 
 entry in Hollis. 1 coached him in his Greek and chem- 
 istry, you know." 
 
 Karl. " Indeed, he often speaks of you. As he is 
 not here, I can teU you what he wants, and you can tell 
 me if you can serve him. The truth is, what we want 
 — what Mr. Crapsten wants, I mean — is some man of 
 college education — a man of the world, too — who can 
 represent him at Fernando Key, an island he has bought 
 off the coast of Florida. He cannot go there himself. 
 But he wants some one — well, to see to the orange-trees, 
 to give directions as to the new buildings, and, in short, 
 to live there till he comes. 1 take some credit that it 
 occun-ed to me that you would do this thing admirably 
 well. Now, if your engagements would permit — " 
 
 Boreman {aside). " 1 wish 1 knew what they were. 
 {Aloud.) Let me look at my memoranda. The 15th — 
 uo, that Cross will take for me ; 9th to 15th of August 1 
 must be at Fortescue's — " 
 
 Karl. " But Mr. Crapsten would write to Fortescue. 
 In truth, we want you to start to-morrow. A lot of peo- 
 ple go to-morrow in Crapsten's own schooner, and we 
 want — I do not say a superintendent, but a man of the 
 world — you understand me ? well ! — to keep them good- 
 natured, and make things seem home-like, you know. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAKRAGANSETT. 67 
 
 Let me introduce you to Professor Southgate liere. You 
 •will stay and lunch, at least. Southgate understands it 
 better than 1 do." {Rings, and- bids Oliver Garner 
 send iacJcio the station Mrs. Springer's ''team'' and 
 Mr. Boreman's.) 
 
 {Mnit BoREMAN, E. H. u. e. At the same moment 
 {dumb-show of cards as before) Oliver Garner admits 
 Dr. DiMiTRT Koulagoff, l. h. l. e. Dr. Koulagoff 
 bows. Loohs uneasily for a place for his hat.) 
 
 Karl {rises courteously). " Let me take your hat, 
 doctor. Excuse me while you read this note, which, by 
 Mr. Orapsten's direction, I addressed to you only to- 
 day." 
 
 {Same dumb-show as before. After the doctor has 
 looJced at the note — ) 
 
 Karl. " The truth is, my dear doctor — " 
 
 Dr. Koulagoff. " Mais, monsieur, je n'entends pas 
 1' Anglais," 
 
 Karl. ' ' Ah, pardon. Ni moi, le Bulgare. Mais, s'il 
 vous plait, causerons en Francais. Ah ! bien ! Vrai- 
 ment, M. le Docteur." {And then, as before, with same 
 dumb-show, explains that at Fernando Key there will be 
 needed some one to introduce the system of vine-growing 
 from Eastern Europe, and, preparatory to that, to cor- 
 respond with the princes of Bulgaria in reference to the 
 colonization, etc., etc. All this rapidly and with gest- 
 ure, ending by an introduction to Professor Southgate 
 - — same dumb-show as before — and entrance of Mrs. 
 Wildeespin, l. h. l. e.) 
 
 Mrs. Wilderspin. " I understood you kept a sort of 
 intelligence office here." 
 
 Karl {grimly). " Madam, that is just what we do. 
 This morning we have offered so much that we have 
 very little left." 
 
68 CHRISTMAS IX KARRAaANSETT. 
 
 Mrs. Wilderspin {not listening). " I am sure I am 
 sorry to take up your time, but 1 M^anted to find occupa- 
 tion." 
 
 Karl {civilly). " Yes ? and in what line ? — a teacher ?" 
 
 Mrs. W. " is'o, I am too old for that." 
 
 Karl. " Housekeeper, perhaps ; large establishment, 
 seven servants ; housekeeper has a separate table. " 
 
 Mrs. W. ' ' No. I have bad headaches. I cannot 
 rise before twelve in the mornino;." 
 
 Karl. " Companion to a rich lady in Newport, possi- 
 bly. Salary $500. Duties, to drive between three and 
 five in the afternoon, and to attend parties in the even- 
 ing." 
 
 Mrs. W. "No. 1 hate to ride. " 
 ;_ Karl {with sympathy). " What then ?" 
 
 Mrs. W. "If you knew of an empty house, fur- 
 nished, you know, and with the fuel, 1 think 1 and my 
 husband could live in it while the owner, you know, 
 went to Europe." 
 
 Karl. "Just the thing ; we have it exactly. In 
 truth, my dear madam, Mr. Crapsten — I am not Mr. 
 Crapsten — wants in his home at Fernando Key, while he 
 is at the North, a gentleman and lady of refinement. 
 You understand me, I am sure {etc. , etc. , etc. , as hefore). 
 Could you talk with Professor Southgate and Mrs. 
 Springer ? — -they understand it perfectly." {Same dumb- 
 show as hefore.) 
 
 {Exit Mrs. WiLDEESPiN, E. H. V. E. Enter Olivee 
 Gaenee, l. h. l. e., and introduces Rev. John Goeban.) 
 
 And so on, and so on, through that day and the next. 
 In truth, the Curlew did not come round from Boston 
 till Friday. On Friday she sailed, with twenty-four pas- 
 sengers, for Fernando Key. 
 
 " The happiest thing in the world," said Karl to his 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGANSETT. 69 
 
 cousin, " that I took the Key off Fotheringay's hands. 
 I only thought of it as a good place for shooting. But 1 
 would give sixpence to see old "Webber when these 
 people arrive. I have telegraphed to Halfenstein at 
 St. Augustine, and he will have at least six days' notice. 
 There is enough to eat, any way." 
 
 And so every third or fourth day through the summer 
 these mad conspirators sent off to old "Webber twenty or 
 thirty of these reformers. Not one ever declined Karl's 
 offer. In truth, it opened a better life to each of them 
 than he was leading, or she. And as Karl said, when- 
 ever his cousin's heart failed her, " Let them reform 
 each other. "When I have a dull carving-knife," said 
 he, " 1 always take another, and give thera both new 
 edges by rubbing blade against blade. ' ' 
 
 And so it proved at the Key. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 Old "Webber, at Fernando Key, had an easier time 
 than seemed probable, when the Curlew arrived and her 
 several successors. 
 
 "When these two crazy madcaps, Karl and his cousin, 
 started this enterprise, Karl had still so much method in 
 his madness that he telegraphed to an old " pal " of his, 
 at St. Augustine, quite full instructions. Interpreting 
 these instructions very broadly, Halfenstein bought two 
 of Skillings's ready-made school-houses, and two 
 churches, which he found waiting purchasers. He char- 
 tered a little steamer, took a deck-load of Southern tim- 
 ber, and hired twenty Minorcans and four stout negroes. 
 With this assorted cargo he came in on old "Webber at 
 the Key one fine May morning, ten days before the 
 Carle w appeared. 
 
70 CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 The consequence was that when that vessel brought in 
 her living cargo, after a slow but not disagreeable pas- 
 sage, quite a little village stood empty awaiting them, 
 and they passed from the discomforts of a packet 
 schooner to the laxuries of sweet soft air, bananas and 
 oranges on the trees, roast pig, fried chickens, omelets 
 of seven patterns, yams, mangoes, apples of paradise, 
 and peas of Elysium, served in two rival refectories — 
 which had no such Popish names — under the varied 
 cuisines of Mammy Chloe and Uncle Stephen. Of mat- 
 tresses and other bedding Karl Whitaker had put enough 
 on the Curlew for a hundred philanthropists. 
 
 To a person of systematic mind or training it would 
 seem that the new-comers would be disturbed when they 
 found so little other preparation than this which was thus 
 made for physical wants. But that happened which 
 neither Karl nor Mrs. Crapsten had foreseen. The 
 philanthropists were not people of systematic mind or 
 training. To lind that neither "institute" had any 
 scholars did not seem strange to them. They were, in- 
 deed, used to institutes on paper. To have nothing to 
 do from Monday morning till Saturday night was neither 
 new to them nor disagreeable. To wait, as they did, by 
 Halfenstein's directions, for fuller arrangements when 
 "the Board" should have its quarterly meeting, was 
 most natural of all. All of them were used to waiting 
 for something to turn up. Halfenstein had had the wit 
 to arrange two boarding-houses, with the knowledge that 
 a slight rivalry would improve the fare, and that so 
 much separation into two parties would make the new 
 establishment more lively. Even Stamboul, at its worst 
 government, enjoyed the partisanship of the ' ' greens' ' 
 and the " blues." And Halfenstein said afterward that 
 his anxieties yf&re all over when he saw the William Tell 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 71 
 
 come into the wind, so that he knew she was going to 
 run for Lis pier. She was the second packet. She 
 sailed four days after the Curlew, but arrived only two 
 days after. From the moment when the Curlew people 
 could patronize the William Tell people, he said social 
 order was established. Caste or class had come into 
 society, and from that time all was well. Two or three 
 times a week a packet would arrive. Always a load of 
 philanthropists, "proctors," or other map-peddlers. 
 Always they landed weary of a voyage, hungry, and 
 tired. Always the different orders of the little state 
 welcomed them with a lively condescension. Gradually 
 they fell into the little coteries of the " red school-house" 
 and " the new school-house," the " hill church" and the 
 " shore church." Before long they knew the rights and 
 the wrongs of the Gwendolen passage, of the row on board ' 
 the Neptune's Bride, of Dr. Southgate's quarrel with 
 Professor Drisko, and of William Wildasin's scandalous 
 flirtation with Mrs. Belle Blackburn. The regular 
 organization of the two institutes still waited directions 
 from their Boards. And it proved, according to Half en- 
 stein, who had letters from Karl by every packet, that 
 each Board had failed in a quorum at its quarterly meet- 
 ing. Strangely enough, none of the philanthropists or 
 other proctors ever received any letters. The square 
 truth, in honest English, was that no human being in 
 the world ever had missed one of them, or knew that 
 they were gone, excepting a few boarding-house keepers, 
 who were glad to see the last of them. Halfenstein, 
 however, put it in a much more elegant way. He was 
 forever receiving great government envelopes from the 
 Post-OfSce Department, and abusing the red tape of 
 government, which would not give them an oflSce. But 
 for newspapers they did not lack ; he kept old Michael, 
 
72 CHEISTIIAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 with two mulatto boys, cruising in a fruit boat in the 
 channels, and never vessel passed from London, from 
 JSTew York, or New Orleans, but gladly exchanged the 
 " latest dates" for the freshest oranges and bananas, 
 For books, Karl had a box of novels sent down by every 
 packet, and the philanthropists seemed to read nothing 
 else. The insurance men generally stuck to the news- 
 papers. 
 
 The Curlew, the William Tell, the Web-Foot, the 
 Gwendolen, the Eoycroft, the Sea-Gull, the Neptune's 
 Bride, the Olivia Emmons, eventually made a regular 
 line between the Pier and the Key. They brought many 
 passengers, but never took away one. Karl was careful 
 about this. The skippers were instructed to say that 
 they had to go to the Dry Tortugas and the Wet Baha- 
 mas, and other parts unknown ; and as soon as they had 
 landed their deck loads, off they went. Indeed, they 
 went in the middle of the night always, with never a 
 chance for a stowaway. But, to say trath, as long as 1 
 was on the island (I was at that time the collecting agent 
 for the S. P. O. H. C.*) I never saw or heard of any 
 one who wanted to leave. We were all awaiting the 
 quarterly meeting of our respective "Boards," and 
 wanted to know how our rank was to be determined. 
 ISTow 
 
 as it says, or should say, in the copy-book. 
 
 As the summer passed, and the autumn came on, our 
 occupation took more the form of established society. 
 
 * " The Society for Providing Occupation for the Higher Classes." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAKSETT. 73 
 
 The insurance men of our side, as Mammy Chloe's 
 boarders were called, would take a chance, after their 
 siesta, to walk over to the other village, and insure the 
 ^lives of the hands who were at work there in putting up 
 new houses, and of the philanthropists who lived there. 
 Meanwhile their insurance men came over and insured 
 us and our workmen. None of us had any money. But 
 we soon invented a system of credits. "We gave our 
 notes payable in ninety-nine years. Then once a week, 
 every Monday evening, there was a meeting in the " red 
 school-house," which partook of the character of a 
 " clearing-house. " These notes were " cleared " against 
 each other, and the balances only were entered in a big 
 book, which we called " Doomsday-Book.' ' This simple 
 plan made business very active. The lightning-rod men 
 made enormous contracts for rods — simply subject to the 
 approval of the " Boards." The rival school agents for 
 " Fortescue's Eeaders" and " Tyrwhitt's Keading- 
 Books," and the men who introduced "Ptolemy's 
 School Geography" and the " Periplus Series of Physi- 
 cal Geography," were very fortunate in their contracts 
 with the professors. Occasionally a professor would de- 
 liver a lecture. But generally the school-houses proved 
 more useful for private theatricals and for tableaux. We 
 had a charming series of tableaux, organized by me, 
 for the benefit of the Society for Providing 0. F. H. 0. 
 "We distributed the tickets for sale in the two boarding- 
 houses, and gave a free ticket to every one who sold 
 ten. The house was full, and the proceeds, on paper, 
 were very large. 
 
 Our summer and autumn passed, therefore, both in- 
 telligently and agreeably. Before it ripened into that 
 pleasant Florida winter, we had a population of near one 
 thousand philanthropists. But the original division of 
 
74 CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGANSETT. 
 
 two villages still held, and Aunt Chloe's people and 
 Uncle Stephen's people were in some sort two communi- 
 ties. As it happened, each had a church, and each an 
 institute. Of course there were in each village a dozen 
 boarding-houses in place of the primeval two. Still, the 
 impression held and holds that Uncle Stephen had 
 secrets in the frying of clams unknown to Mammy 
 Cliloe, and that he permitted the use of these secrets, by 
 certain royalties, in all the Hill cookery, while the Shore 
 knew nothing of them. However this may be, it is cer- 
 tain that the gumbo soup of the Shore was unmatched 
 and unmatchable by anything furnished on the Hill. 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 As the blushing October of lovely Narragansett 
 blushed its rosiest before November ravaged the whole 
 scene, Isabel and her father took a charming scamper on 
 horseback one day over the hills and far away. As they 
 came back to the Kingston Road, Mr. Crapsten threw 
 himself from his horse, took down the top rail of a bit 
 of fence, and cried to Isabel : 
 
 " Now show me how well you can leap those bars." 
 
 The girl did it without hesitation. Her father did th© 
 same, and led her into the still glades of the forest. 
 
 Oh, how still ! 
 
 "Dear child," he said, reverently indeed, "I wiU 
 show you things hidden from the foundation of the 
 world." 
 
 And he did so. 
 
 He led the way where the horses' feet sank deep in 
 greenish-gray lichen, which had grown on the graves of 
 other lichens, which were the monuments of others 
 which were growing in the days of Canonchet. There 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAKSETT. 75 
 
 was not soil enough for anything but this humble green- 
 ish-grayish-blue, and the craunch of the horses' feet had 
 a weird, dry sound which seemed to be an echo from 
 another century. There came over Isabel the feeling 
 that no human being had ever stood there before. 
 
 "'Dear papa, when did you find this solitude ?" 
 
 " Only yesterday. But I have made many such dis- 
 coveries this summer. When mamma does'not ride with 
 me, I am very adventurous." 
 
 Isabel {a Utile frightened with her own rashness). 
 " How much time you have had for yourself this sum- 
 mer !" 
 
 Mr. Grafsten. " Yes. I am sometimes troubled 
 about it. But do you know, I never had the letters so 
 well in hand, my business never troubled me so little, 
 and really (with a timid laugh) I have almost finished 
 the book on the emigration of the Iranian tribes. ' ' 
 
 They rode happily on, silently, till he began again, a 
 little anxiously : 
 
 " "We have not had so many of the people you call 
 'map-peddlers.' Do you know, I am a httle fright- 
 ened. I hope I was not rude that last day before we 
 went to Newport." , 
 
 Isabel. " Rude, papa ! you do not know how to be 
 rnde. You could not be rude if you tried. I^ow do 
 not go and worry about those things." 
 
 But Isabel, who was in her mother's secrets, rode 
 home like a guilty thing. When they passed the letter- 
 box where the mail-rider left the Little Orastis mail, the 
 girl slipped off her pony, let him run up to the stable 
 alone, and herself carried up the mail to her father. 
 
 " There, papa, it is a dear little mail. I've a letter 
 from Tom, mamma has one from Aunt Kate, and there 
 are only three for you." 
 
76 CHEISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 And her father said he should have just time to read 
 the letters before dinner. 
 
 Dinner seemed particularly jolly that day. The 
 younger boys were in great feather — had caught the 
 biggest pickerel within the memory of man. Mary 
 M-'Mahon had surpassed herself in the chowder and clam 
 fritters ; and the Trustum Bay oysters were perfect. 
 As they sat at the dessert, rather more lazily than usual, 
 Mrs. Crapsten said : "I had a nice letter from Kate ; 
 they will all be here Friday, What was your mail ?" 
 
 Mr. Crapsten. " Oh, 1 ought to have told you, for 1 
 was really very much pleased. Isabel, go bring the 
 letters." 
 
 And when the girl returned, he handed one to his wife. 
 
 " There, that is from Baring's people. They are well 
 pleased with the Cattaraugus success, and have made on 
 the other side a syndicate. Hope joins, and Caruthers, 
 and even the great Rothschild nibbles. They offer me 
 ten millions for my interest, or 1 may join with them." 
 
 3Irs. Crapsten. "And you are pleased ? Did I know 
 about this?" 
 
 Mr. C. "I think I told you. It was that time I 
 went to Boston, and left you at the Champernoons' at 
 Hingham." 
 
 Mrs. C. " I don't remember." 
 
 Mr. C. " "Well, it is a long story ; but we have noth- 
 ing to do. You know the Cattaraugus and Opelousas all 
 went down again after — after poor George Orcutt went 
 up." 
 
 Mrs. Crapsten nodded, for the subject of George 
 Orcutt was a sad one. 
 
 Mr. C. ' ' Well, it occurred to me one day that all it 
 needed was to make a cut-off or connection between that 
 sharp bend at Wills's, so as to unite us with that poor 
 
CHRISTMAS liT NAKKAQANSETT. 77 
 
 weak-kneed Pemaquid and Kittatinny line. They were 
 in the hands of receivers, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Crapsten nodded again, though she had no idea 
 what a receiver was. 
 ' Mr. a " Well, 1 gave orders to buy up the P. and 
 ; K. , and of course 1 got their stock for nothing, and 
 their bonds for a whistle. I saw Beamish that after- 
 noon — Jack Beamish, George's son — and sent him with 
 his things and a party to Wills's. They got an old 
 charter on the way ; he ran his experimental line that 
 week ; and the next week Grrimes — no. Groves, those 
 New Hampshire people — took the contract. Of course 
 it worked ; their road has been running now for near 
 three weeks ; the Philadelphia people get their pork a 
 penny cheaper ; and if you knew it, that winter butter 
 you ordered of Hastings yesterday will cost you a cent 
 less because of Jack Beamish." 
 
 Isabel {admiring). " And all because of you, papa !" 
 
 She had never heard her father explain business at 
 such length. 
 
 Mr. 0. ' ' Yes ; well — because of me, I suppose. 
 That is what 1 am for. Somebody must plan things. 
 But, somehow, for a year or two 1 have never seemed to 
 have any time to attend to what 1 wanted to do — until 
 this summer. I said to Isabel that I was afraid some- 
 thing was wrong." 
 
 Mrs. C. " And you have really sat here to-day, and 
 talked about pickerel and oysters and clams, when we 
 were ten million dollars richer than we were yesterday ?" 
 
 Mr. C. " Pourquoi non ? I forgot all about the let- 
 ter. What is the good of the money, unless we can 
 help other people with it ? But if you bid me sell to the 
 Barings, why, you can found your Old Ladies' Home, 
 and endow your Medical College for Women." 
 
78 CHRISTMAS IN KAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 Isabel. "And you, papa — I know what you want to 
 do ; you can send your colony to the Upper Canadian !" 
 
 Mr. C. smiled good-naturedly. " You have found 
 me out, have you ? Well, if I believe in anything, it 
 is in the ' Organization of Emigration.' " 
 
 Then Mrs. Crapsten, who, as has been seen, is a 
 bold woman, determined on the instant to dare all, and 
 to confess to her husband the whole " Organization of 
 Emigration' ' which she and her cousin had carried for- 
 ward. 
 
 Mrs. C. " After you have had your nap, I want to 
 take you to drive." 
 
 Mr. 0. "Gladly. Whereto?" 
 
 Mrs. C. " Well, where you do not like to go. I 
 shall take you to the Eiddell place." 
 
 Mr. C. "As you will. But it is a gloomy old hole. 
 I have not been there this summer." 
 
 Mrs. C. "I know you think so, but you do not know 
 how gay and festive Karl and I have made it." 
 
 Mr. C. "Yes, Karl brags of it whenever becomes 
 over. Well, anywhere with you." 
 
 And he went off to his nap. 
 
 ' ' To think, " cried Mrs. Crapsten to Isabel, when 
 they were alone — " to think that a horde of people who 
 say they know more than your father, should be able to 
 keep him for years from helping the world forward in 
 his own way ! Now, in three weeks, that they let him 
 alone, he has made food cheaper for half the world, and' 
 is all the more ready to go on and do so much the more. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Crapsten slept exactly his appointed hour, and 
 then was ready at the carriage ; so was Isabel ; so was 
 her mother. He wondered at the improved avenue 
 quite as much as they could have asked. He was de- 
 lighted with the clumps of rhododendrons, where there 
 
CHRISTMAS IN M-AREAGAITSETT. 79 
 
 was a little opening ; and when lie saw the fasti to aspect 
 of the old Riddell place, he fairly clapped his hands. 
 
 Karl heard the wheels, and came out to welcome them, 
 forewarned by Oliver Garner that these were not of the 
 common kind. 
 
 As he handed Mrs. Crapsten from the carriage, she 
 whispered, in a tragic aside, " We must confess all !" 
 
 And they did confess all. At first they had no 
 chance. Karl introduced Mr. Crapsten to Mr. Palfrey 
 and Mr. Ohamberlin, his clerks, and to Miss Olive and 
 Miss Augusta, his other trusty aids ; and Mr. Crapsten 
 looked round, rather amazed at the undisguisable air of 
 business which the dismal old Eiddell house had assumed. 
 
 " Why, Karl, this does not look much like partridge- 
 shooting ! Since when have you been such a man of 
 affairs?" 
 
 The young ladies all blanched white, and then flushed 
 red. But Karl, as easy as if he were on examination be- 
 fore a board which he was snubbing, said, " Oh, it is all 
 my old hobby, the ' Organization of Emigration.' " 
 
 "Organization of Emigration!" said Mr. Crapsten. 
 " Have you stolen my thunder ?" 
 
 Then Karl confessed all. He told the story very 
 briefly, but very well. He gave great praise to Ellen 
 (M'Grath) Mitchell, as was her due. Not once in that 
 hard-worked summer had she mistaken her man or 
 woman, so far as Karl knew. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Crapsten, with a certain sense of 
 relief, "nor so far as I know. Never man or woman 
 has come to the house here to talk organized philan- 
 thropy to me this summer." 
 
 " George was saying," said his wife, " that he had for 
 once attended to his own concerns." 
 
 " And how much has this cost you schemers ?" asked 
 
80 CHRISTMAS IK KARRAGAKSETT. 
 
 Mr. Crapsten. And Karl calmly eliowed the five 
 monthly balance-sheets, and bade Miss Olive bring the 
 day-book and ledger for October. 
 
 " On the whole," he said, " we are doing better than 
 I dared hope. They do not work much, of course. 
 !N"obody expected that. But they are modest in their 
 needs. They drink nothing but milk and water, and 
 they provide a good deal of their own food. There, that 
 is the ration for September — $1.97f a week, you see. 
 Our roster was then 879 ; but now we have sent, since 
 the 30th, 51, 69, 33, 19 in the Swiftsure, that makes 
 172 more. We made an excellent thing of it last month 
 with our Southern pine. Halfenstein misread, or some- 
 body miswrote, a dispatch of mine, and they bought in 
 June a great lot of Florida pine, just when I was pour- 
 ing in Northern pine by deck-loads. All of a sudden last 
 month the market here was cornered, and I have sold all 
 my Florida pine for enough to meet all my lumber bills. 
 Since I put the propellers on we have done a good thing 
 in fruit. We send them on a round trip, and they come 
 home by the islands." 
 
 Mr. Crapsten was interested by the figures, understood 
 the position in a moment, asked questions, and made 
 suggestions. 
 
 " At $52 apiece, your average of 500 has cost you 
 $26,000 for their board." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but what with our fresh-fish sales here, the 
 oyster account, the profits on the pine business, and the 
 fruit balance — here is ray September balance — ^we 
 brought down the total expense to $13,692.11. Besides, 
 we have some small collections to make. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Crapsten turned with admiration to his wife. 
 " Now I know why you sold the Vienna necklace, and 
 your 5-20 bonds." 
 
CURISTMAS IN if AERAGANSETT. 81 
 
 Mrs. G. " How did you know it ?" 
 
 Mr. O. " As it happened, I bought the necklace. 
 Tour man in New York had heard me asking for some- 
 thing of the kind, and I found it waiting my inspection 
 at the office the other day. As for the bonds, they were 
 registered, you know ; and it so happened that in the last 
 lump I bought, these of yours came round to me. But 
 then I never meant to be poking into your secrets." 
 
 Isabel. "And will you forgive the conspirators, papa V ' 
 {8he flings Tiersdf vn, hurlesque upon the ground.) 
 
 Mr. C. " Forgive ! It is I who am to ask as a favor 
 that I may sit at your feet and study the ' Organization 
 of Emigration.' " 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. C. 
 
 Isabel. Karl. 
 
 Mr. P. Miss Olive. 
 
 Miss Augusta. Mr. 0. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
CPIAPTEK III. 
 
 At chapter three of the " Story of the Island " every- 
 body had assented to my proposal that we should move 
 into the gray parlor. There the colonel rang for a stu- 
 dent's lamp, and by its light he finished the story of Karl 
 Whitaker's audacity. 
 
 " A pity that we have not the Crapstens here !" said 
 the colonel. " Nice people ; not spoiled by their 
 money. If the -weather serves, we will take you round 
 there, Mrs. Menet, some morning. They are all in 
 Eome this winter. But the houses are there still, and 
 you will understand the story better when you see how 
 cleverly Karl AVhitaker laid his baits for the perch and 
 flat-heads who sailed so innocently to the happy island." 
 
 And then, as we sat in the darkness — the one lamp 
 shaded by a little screen — it happened, not unnaturally, 
 that we fell to talking about story-telling, its objects, 
 and its methods. 
 
 They read aloud inveterately at the colonel's. All 
 this summer, there had been six hours of every day when 
 any loafer of the neighborhood, who chose to drift up 
 there, might sit on the piazza and hear Howells, or 
 James, or Besant, or the new man, Fred Anstey ; or 
 perhaps Mrs. Oliphant, or Daudet, or maybe a comedy 
 of Scribe's. Lately one and another had been reading 
 TroUope's theory of novel-writing, and Besant's, and 
 James's — discussing the question, what is it all for ? 
 
 " Is it that the reader may kill time ?" 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NABBAGAHSKTT. 83 
 
 ''Is it that the author may reform the world, or save 
 the reader's soul ?" 
 
 "Is it that the author may show how well he can do 
 it, as a skilful painter will copy for you a dry herring 
 on a board ?" 
 
 To these three questions — which represent the three 
 theories — we tried to make the colonel give his answer. 
 He is an inveterate story-teller ; nor does he care whether 
 a ruthless editor limit him to one hundred and fifty 
 words, or whether the contractor for some new " series" 
 propose to him that the story shall be of one hundred 
 thousand — or perhaps two. 
 
 " It is much the same thing," he says. " When I 
 was on the Argus — in the days when newspapers had 
 editors, and did not run themselves, as they are supposed 
 to do now — the chief would leave his instructions for us 
 reporters. 
 
 " On my desk I would find a bit of yellow paper, 
 which would say, ' Centennial at Bromwich — three 
 words ' — or it would say, ' Centennial at Bromwich, 
 verbatim. ' And I took my train, and I went to Brom- 
 wich. "We were proud in our responsibility. The 
 three words were well chosen, and they told the 
 whole. 
 
 " The droll thing about your stories is," said the col- 
 onel, dreaming as he spoke, " that there seems to be no 
 way in which you can tell the pubhc where the real 
 passes into the ideal. 
 
 " Ah me ! when I was a lad, that charming Mrs. 
 Dickinson, in President's Square, had a great party to 
 show some marvellous china her husband had just im- 
 ported for her from Canton. 
 
 ' ' 1 was talking to a sweet, pretty girl from Albany — 
 she has twenty charming granddaughters to-day — and I 
 
84 CHRISTMAS IN NAERA0ANSETT. 
 
 took one of the platters wliicli had a lot of Chinese writ- 
 ing on it, and invented a rigmarole translation. 
 
 " To my horror, the circle was silent, and twenty sena- 
 tors' and nineteen ambassadors' wives listened eagerly. 
 
 " I blushed, and made it more and more absurd, hop- 
 ing that some one person might know that China was 
 not the District of Columbia, nor the East the West. 
 
 " No ! All that came was a sigh from Madam 
 Brenner, ' What an extraordinary people the Chinese 
 are ! ' 
 
 " And poor I, to save any reputation I had left for 
 veracity, had to say, ' Indeed, Madam Brenner, 1 had 
 explained to Miss Cora that I cannot read a word of 
 Chinese, and I am making it up as 1 go along.' 
 
 "Then they all turned their backs on me, and said, 
 ' What a liar that Ingham is ! '" 
 
 I said at this, that every public speaker knew that 
 the dullest person in an audience sets the key-note of 
 the intelligence of that audience. If Hod Soft-head is 
 there, and you know it, to Hod Soft-head you address 
 yourself. 
 
 Carter said he thought that nobody listened much to 
 anything. " They are all thinking what they will say 
 next." 
 
 I said I had had a man tell me that all he remem- 
 bered of my sermon was my spirited account of my 
 father driving an express engine from Worcester to 
 Boston. Now, my father never drove an engine in his 
 life, and I never said he did ; nor did I ever describe 
 anybody's driving an engine in any sermon. " Tou 
 must remember," said I, "that people do not like to 
 confess ignorance. I will tell you a story about that — " 
 
 But at this moment I saw Mrs. Ingham turning to 
 her daughter Bertha. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 85 
 
 " Perhaps 1 had better wait till we have had tea," I 
 said. " The story will take a good while ; but we have 
 all the evening. " 
 
 Mrs. Ingham said we could have tea at once. She 
 rang and ordered lights — tea was served, as we sat — and 1 
 said I should have to preface my short story by reading 
 them the story of Cromwell's Statue; 
 
 To begin with, 1 said, I should like to say that this 
 story is not even founded on fact. It is what is called a 
 work of the imagination. The New York Observer 
 calls such work "lying." But, really, there is high 
 authority for it, not to say, sacred authority. 
 
 Knowing the passion of the average world for fact, 1 
 fortified this story — even though it were printed in the 
 Story-Teller — with a little preface to say, " This is 
 not ^rwe. " 
 
 That is, I put it all in the mouth of Joel Scroop, a 
 purely imaginary person. 
 
 Then I read the story of 
 
 CROMWELL'S STATUE. 
 
 1 wish you would not make me responsible for the 
 story. It is no story of mine. It is Joel Scroop who 
 tells the story, as they are all sitting in that funny hotel 
 at Brieg— waiting for a fine day, that they may go over 
 the Simplon. It is raining like fury — so that they can- 
 not walk out, nor, indeed, see twenty feet from the 
 house. They are all sitting, lazily, at the breakfast- 
 tables — as they have been for an hour and a half — one 
 dropping in after another, and fresh relays appearing of 
 coffee, of honey, of bread, and of trout. " Frizz-izz-izz- 
 izz," said Montgomery Myers to the pretty waiting-girl, 
 ^' pas bubble- bubble-bubble-bubble." By which Ian- 
 
86 CHRISTMAS I5r NAKRAGANSEXT. 
 
 guage he meant tliat the trout were to be fried and not 
 boiled. And 1 need not say that she understood him. 
 
 They had all come down, in various caleches and 
 voitures, boots and shoes, from the glacier of the Rhone. 
 And it was some discussion on the cohesion of ice under 
 pressure, as to its capacity to bear great weights, which 
 made George grin and exchange glances with JoeL 
 Then ]Mrs. Mason took it up and asked what he meant, 
 and George grinned again, and said Joel would tell the 
 story better than he would. And Mrs. Mason told Joel 
 to tell it. And he said it would take an hour. And 
 she said so much the better. " Go ahead," said Mont- 
 gomery. "Pray go on," said Mrs. Beard. And Joel 
 went on. 
 
 Joel's btokt. 
 
 If anybody Imows how much weight four blocks of ice 
 will bear, George does, and I. 
 
 You see, it all began one day in Westminster Hall. 
 "We had gone in, with tickets from the Legation, to hear 
 a debate in the House of Commons, and George stopped 
 to see the statues. Their first plan was to set the kings 
 of England and the queens there, i suppose. For Mary 
 the Gi)od is there. 1 mean the one who dethroned her 
 father — the Mary Stuart who is not Marie Stuart. She 
 stands at one end, and her husband at the other. Next 
 her is James 1. Then comes Charles 1. , not realistic, 
 for he had his head on. Then came Charles II. and 
 James II. Next to him came William III., Mary's hus- 
 band. But no Cromwell. For reasons unknown the 
 series stopped there. I suppose they gave Thackeray 
 the contract for Queen Anne and the four Georges, and 
 that he died before they were finished. 
 
 Observe, I say there was then no Cromwell. Some- 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NARRAGANSETT. 87 
 
 body said his bust was to be somewhere among the 
 "generals;" but because he was only sovereign of 
 England, and not king, they would not put him among 
 their kings and queens. 
 
 Daniel was with tis — ^Dan Dielmann, you know. He 
 said they were afraid to trust Cromwell in the night with 
 such a pack of Stuarts. As it was they had to have 
 "William and Mary flank them to keep them well in hand. 
 
 Eitz said that there would not have been any " Rule 
 Britannia," or " Britons Eule the Waves," if there had 
 not been any Oliver Cromwell ; and that Westminster 
 Hall was not perfect without some memento of the 
 greatest thing that was ever done in it ; and, as we went 
 up-stairs to the gallery of the House, 1 heard Donald 
 Everard — he is a regular old Scotch Covenanter—mutter- 
 ing something about " garring kings ken that they had a 
 crick in their necks." 
 
 That was all that happened then. 
 
 . . . But in the fall — it was after 1 had my studio in 
 " The Avenue," you know, where those queer old trees 
 are, on the Eulham Koad, just in the edge of Brompton 
 and Chelsea — we were sitting in the dark, one afternoon 
 ■ — Mrs. Pride had been sitting to me till the light failed 
 — Monty there started the whole thing. 1 would make 
 him tell you what he said, but he would fall to preach- 
 ing. Shortly, it was this : that it was a shame — the 
 worst kind of shame — ^that there was no statue of Crom- 
 well there. That if England had not pluck or gratitude 
 enough to put it there, New England had. Cromwell 
 made England what she is, and he made New England 
 what she is. But, as far as Mont knew, there was no 
 statue of him on our side ; and here these graceless 
 islanders were not men enough to put up his statue in 
 
88 CKRISTIIAS IJT N'ARRAGAlSrSETT. 
 
 their own old Hall. What Mont proposed was, that we 
 should go to the American ' Exchange at Charing Cross, 
 the next day, and call a meeting of Americans, and pass 
 some resolutions. That then we should send round a 
 subscription paper, and appoint a committee, and that 
 the committee should give me the order for the statue. 
 That then we should send a note to the queen, or the 
 Board of Works, or Lord Beaconsfield, or whoever was 
 the right man, and offer it to them. 1 believe, in my 
 soul, that Mont thought they would accept it, and that 
 he would be asked to deliver " the oration" on its dedi- 
 cation. 
 
 You know they always say the oration in the news- 
 papers, as if it were ready made, and the man reeled off 
 an hour's worth, like the ten commandments, or the cable 
 of a ship. 
 
 Well, I said that would never do. In the first place, 
 they would not take the statue. In the second place, 
 any one would say it was a " put-up job" to give me the 
 order. Now, I was as much interested in Cromwell as 
 any man. My mother was a Williams, and that always 
 made me think 1 was a descendant or collateral relation. * 
 Then we chaffed at Mont about his oration, and the 
 thing ended. 
 
 But the next day, after Mrs. Pride went away, the 
 fellows came into the studio again, and we were all 
 
 *For the convenience of readers who have not Carlyle's Crom-well 
 at hand, the editor copies the following passage in explanation of 
 Mr. Scroop's oracles: "Another indubitable thing is, that this 
 Eichard, your nephew, has signed himself, in various law-deeds and 
 notarial papers still extant, ' Kichard Cromwell, aKas Williams ' ; also 
 that his sons and grandsons continued to sign Cromwell, aXiaa 
 Williams, and even that our Oliver himself, in his youth, has been 
 known to sign sa.''— Carlyle's Cromwell, vol. i., p. 31. 
 
CHRISTilAS IN NAERAGAXSETT. 89 
 
 smoking, and Donald took it up this time. "We aJl 
 agreed that it must be a free-will offering, and that it 
 had better be made by Americans. It was rather deli- 
 cate to make the queen order a statue to a man who had 
 a hand in cutting off a king's head. And any one 
 could see that there would be endless rows in getting 
 through an appropriation. But we are Eepublicans. 
 We never had any kings of our own. If a group of 
 Americans gave a good statue of Cromwell, that would 
 be quite another thing. Besides it would be a handsome 
 thing to do. It would knit again the bond of sympathy 
 and all that — "language of Milton, etc., etc." — as we 
 say in speaking on the queen's birthday. It was clear 
 enough that if any statue of Cromwell was to be put 
 there, Americans — -not to say New Englanders — must 
 make it, and must give it. 
 
 If New England was to make it^— well, the fellows 
 were good enough to say that I was the man to take it 
 in hand. That may have been their mistake ; but, as I 
 say, my mother was a Williams, and I liked the commis- 
 sion. 
 
 Then we fell to talking about the costume and acces- 
 sories. I said I would not make him a tired, worn-out 
 old man, with a wart, and one foot in the grave. I 
 would make him in fresh middle life, as he was when he 
 first spoke in Parliament, or when he first addressed his 
 Ironsides. I said there was a deal of the picturesque 
 about Cromwell, and that I was not going to have him 
 an Obadiah Precise or a Praise-God Barebones. Some- 
 body said something about " Crop-Head," and that no 
 Puritan could be made presentable. But we got down 
 Macaulay, and I showed them how a Puritan gentleman 
 wore his hair longer than any man does in England or 
 America to-day. "We got out Milton's portraits, and 
 
90 CHEISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 some photographs from Vandyke, and I took a bit of 
 charcoal — and John lighted np — and I drew on the wall 
 a rough sketch of the statue — well, not unlike what it is 
 to-day. I do not think I ever held quite so close to the 
 first dream of a thing. The fellows said it was fantastic 
 and airy, and all that. But I do not think so. I tell 
 you no man ever made an army out of ploughboys and 
 hedgers, as he did, who had not a deal of vivacity — yes, 
 of fun and light-heartedness in him. And no man ever 
 sat in the saddle four-and-twenty hours — and was good- 
 natured after it — unless he had that amount of " go" in 
 him, push, and dash, and pluck, that you see in my 
 Cromwell. Whether it looks like him is another thing. 
 All 1 can say is that 1 modelled the head from myself — 
 and, as I said, I believe, my mother was a Williams. 
 
 [He had said it twice, as the reader knows, and here 
 George intimated to him that he was miles ahead of his 
 story. Joel recovered himself and went back.] 
 
 Oh well, the rest is of no great importance ! The 
 real thing was that I determined to make the statue, be- 
 cause the fellows all said so. I had more time then than 
 I have now, and you know that is a capital studio. It 
 was clear enough that they would be more apt to accept 
 the statue if it were finished, and were good, and ap- 
 proved of, than if it were only proposed. You cannot 
 go to any Board of Works, or any queen, and say, " Will 
 you accept a statue if I will make it, and if you like it 
 when it is done?" The queen will say, " When it is 
 done I will tell you if 1 like it, and then I will determine 
 if 1 will accept it. ' ' Clearly it was better to have that 
 part out of the way first. Besides, I did not mean to 
 have them give the order to Simmons or Greenough or 
 Story, who are all New Englanders. I did not mean to 
 have any nonsense about a "competition." 1 bought 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NAREAQAKSETT. 91 
 
 the mask of Cromwell's face — but he was old then— and 
 I got some good photographs of pictures of him. As 1 
 said, the Mugfords made me a wig, of just the cut and 
 curl of the beginning of Charles's reign, and 1 bought 
 three looking-glasses and arranged them so I could see 
 my own profile, and model with the wig on. 1 don't 
 think any one else has done that. The other fellows 
 never hked the model as well as I did, but I like it to 
 this day. 1 had plenty of time, and enjoyed every dab 
 at it. Though I say it, who should not, there have been 
 worse statues. 
 
 How long ? Oh, I was more than a year on it before 
 it was done ! I began to have more orders. That was 
 the winter I did Walter Raleigh, and I did no end of 
 busts that winter. I'll tell you, I did that pretty Miss 
 Avery, and I did the two Woodcocks that winter. But 
 after the season was over I had absolutely no sitters. 
 London was empty. I had run over here — I mean to 
 Florence — in the spring, just after Easter. It was in 
 Genoa, at old Kicci's yard, that I saw a good block. 
 He was cross because the government man had rejected 
 it, and he had it on his hands. He showed it to me, and 
 I offered him half his price, and he closed with me. 
 He shipped it to London, and I had it in " The Avenue" 
 before August. It was very good stuff ; 1 hope 1 may 
 never work on worse stone. That was the year I had 
 Filippo with me, and that man you called M.3i&aniello, 
 because he was such an ass. But he was a very good 
 workman, and we had a very good time over that block. 
 
 But, as the thing grew, we were more and more in 
 doubt about the presenting it to the queen. Ton see, a 
 statue of a regicide is not exactly the thing to give to a 
 queen. Everybody likes the queen. I am sure I do. 
 I would not hurt her feelings for the world. I would 
 
93 CHRISTMAS IK KAEKAQANSETT. 
 
 not give her the handkerchief Marie Antoinette carried 
 ■at the guillotine. I would not give her Marie Stuart's 
 crucifix, even though Marie Stuart was her great-grand- 
 father's great-great-grandmother or something. We 
 wanted the nation to have this statue. We wanted it to 
 be in "Westminster Hall. But none of us meant to paia 
 or worry her about it. We could not find out exactly 
 whose business it was to receive it. Certainly not those 
 buffers in red vests and black breeches who keep you 
 out from the gallery of the House of Commons. C^j-.^ 
 tainly not the orange-women who sit around the gj^ltues 
 and sell oranges to the suitors in the Law-Courts, or did, 
 before the Law-Courts were moved. 
 
 I think if Donald had not been away in Australia we 
 should have moved in the proper and methodical way. 
 I think he told me that we ought to have memorialized 
 the Home Secretary, or the Speaker, or the Board of 
 Works, or somebody. But he was away, and we did not 
 know. The statue went on from day to day, and 1 
 hoped it would go in somehow. All I was anxious 
 about was the likeness and the accessories. I know 1 
 went to the Tower three times to study swords and belts 
 — and at Clive Hall they have a genuine sword of Crom- 
 well's. I went out there, 1 know, and made a study of 
 that. Oh, yes, the detail of that statue is quite accurate! 
 
 . . . Well, there was no end of bother. These feL 
 lows here, and Tom, and Harrison, and Thorndike, they 
 were all as good as gold. I know I got cross ; I said I 
 would put the statue in the street — in the Brompton 
 Eoad — and that they might do what they chose with it. 
 But Harrison, he soothed me, and George was always 
 serene and said it would all come out light. Only — do 
 you recollect, George, how mad you made mo, asking if 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAERAGANSETT. 93 
 
 it could not be bored out, so as to be hollow, that it 
 might not weigh so much ? And 1 did tell Filippo to 
 hollow out all that stump he leans on— it is not an inch 
 thick. But the legs are solid, and that statue stands 
 well. 
 
 What they determined on was this : they would not 
 give it to any board — they would give it to " "Westmin- 
 ster Hall," in trust for the British nation. Fitz passed 
 the examination and had himself sworn in as a police- 
 man. He was Policeman L., of the something divi- 
 sion in Westminster. He made himself very popular 
 with the whole squad — and a very good set of fellows 
 they were — and I dare say are. Fitz was quite a light 
 among them. They used to call him " The Dutch 
 Yankee." 
 
 Then it was Dan who got up the order from the 
 " Commission." On the whole, that was the crowning 
 stroke of all. Dan invented a " Hoyal Commission of 
 Sculpture." There never was such a commission be- 
 fore, and never will be again. But Dan made it, and 
 officered it. He had some stunning office paper, very 
 large and thick, printed for it. It was headed " Royal 
 Commission of Sculpture" in big letters. Dan said it 
 might be useful, and so it proved. 
 
 They had hit on the device of the blocks of ice, and 
 they had tested them on that flagging in the back of the 
 studio. Oh, if you lift any weight upon ice carefully 
 and do not bring it down on the run, ice will bear a 
 great deal more than the weight of my Cromwell ! Peo- 
 ple exaggerate the weight of a statue. The specific 
 gravity of marble is only 2.34:. So that a fac-simile of 
 George or any one of you would only weigh two and a 
 third times as much as you do, except for the clothes, 
 the accessories, the support and the rest. For that we 
 
94 CHRISTMAS in- STA BRAG Alf SETT. 
 
 were all ready. I had undercut the stump, as I tell 
 you, and the figure stands, if you remember, only on a 
 thin plinth of stone, not two inches and a half thick be- 
 neath the shoes. Statues are not nearly so heavy as you 
 think they are. 
 
 We had determined to take it throiigh the streets 
 after dark — it is dark so early in December — and we did 
 not care to have a crowd. Then, as soon as Van Stael 
 heard of it, he offered us his horse-s — said we might go 
 through the brewery and pick. Van Stael said that 
 being brewery horses they would take to Oliver kindly ; 
 and so, indeed, they did. Tom had taken all that part 
 of the thing on himself ; he picked out four noble creat- 
 tires, big as elephants, and kept them in a stable we had 
 in the mews behind my place. We had settled on Christ- 
 mas night to make the present. They said that the 
 courts would not sit that day, and we should not annoy 
 any one if they were sitting late, and that there would 
 be fewer people in the way. 
 
 In fact, that was the reason we did not go in broad 
 daylight. 
 
 But the best luck of all was the snow. Once in ten 
 years it can snow in London, and on that very day of all 
 days it chose to snow — snow that was snow. Tou might 
 have thought you were in the hotel at Tom Crawford's, 
 it snowed so hard and so still. Beally it seemed provi- 
 dential to have it snow so. It made us late, bul; wo 
 never cared for that. By noon we were sure it was 
 going to show all day. Dan came round and Harrison, 
 and we sent for the other fellows. We split up the floor 
 of the stable, and it was good cedar plank, two inches 
 thick, sound as a nut. We had all the tools we wanted 
 in the studio. We took Dan's old catamaran to pieces ; 
 it was a truck on low wheels he had fussed over. We 
 
CHRISTMAS ISr NA EEAG ANSETT. 95 
 
 mounted it on four runners, whicli were as well shaped, 
 though not as well shod, as any sleds ever were which 
 carried logs into Pittsfield. By nine o'clock the snow in 
 the Fulham Eoad was nine inches deep, very little 
 drifted, because there was not much wind. Cromwell 
 had been lying on his back, lashed to his plank, and on 
 rollers, for days, while we waited for the permit and 
 while Dan was arranging about his horses. Fine creat- 
 ures, they came out all alive into the street, with their 
 sled behind them, and the statue rolled upon it, without 
 the least hitch, in less than half an hour. My men were 
 used to it. They had worked for other people in " The 
 Avenue," and everything is ready for you there. Don't 
 you remember when we saw Gladstone there, before his 
 head was on ? 
 
 Once in the Eulham_ Koad and Brompton, everything 
 was easy. Tom drove ; and, tholigh all English horses 
 are puzzled about snow, the brutes behaved very well. 
 The charm of London is that nobody is surprised at any- 
 thing. Nobody asks any questions if he can help him- 
 self. But that night there were few enough people to 
 ask any. Londoners are puzzled by snow as much as 
 their horses. Besides, it was Christmas night, and if 
 any man could be at home, why he was. Indeed, on 
 such a "night as that, with snow still falling, you would 
 not have met many people in Boston, where they are not 
 puzzled by snow. Anyway, nobody said a word to us. 
 John followed with my own team and the ice ; it was 
 the ice I set out to tell you about. He had the ice, and 
 Jie followed. 
 
 Nobody said a word. The horses soon settled down 
 to their business, and I suppose they thought Oliver 
 Cromwell was XXX— stout and heavy. I do not think 
 we were an hour and a half coming to Westminster 
 
96 CHRISTMAS !«■ NAEEAGAlfSETT. 
 
 Hall. Fitz was on duty outside that night. We knew 
 he would be. He had made an exchange, somehow, 
 with the man whose turn it was — who wanted to spend 
 Christmas evening at home. Fitz brought us up all 
 standing, and asked what we wanted. 
 
 I told him he had better call the night janitor of the 
 Hall, and he did. The man was a little surprised, but 
 he said Fitz had told him the statiie was coming — but he 
 supposed we had an order. I said. Oh, yes, we had an 
 order, but that I thought the Board ought to have sent 
 some men to help us ! I explained that we had come in 
 the snow, because it was much easier to move so heavy 
 a weight on the snow, and that the secretary of the 
 Board was afraid it would rain before morning. Mean- 
 while 1 went in with him, and by the light of his lantern 
 he read this order from Dan's " Board of Sculpture" : 
 
 " EOYAL COMMISSION OF SCULPTUEE. 
 
 " Westminstek, December 24. 
 "7b ilie Door-Keepers at Westminster Hall : 
 
 " This Board has ordered that the new statue shall be 
 moved at night, to prevent crowd and confusion. Give 
 to the bearer every facility. 
 
 " By order of the Board. 
 
 " Daniel Dielman, 
 
 " Secretary." 
 
 Then there was a great seal on the comer, and the 
 countersign, " Recorded. No. 3562. 
 
 " Thomas Ackees." 
 
 I said to the man that I was sure the Board's people 
 would be there by midnight. Meanwhile would ho 
 
CHRISTMAS !:»• NAKRAGAIfSETT. 97 
 
 bring us some beer, and we would get ready, and I gave 
 him a sovereign for himself and the beer. He asked 
 Fitz if it was all right. Fitz said he was sure it was — 
 that he had known the statue was coming, for a month, 
 and if the others had not known, it must be they had 
 not heard, which was true. 
 
 "Well, you know all an Englishman wants is to know 
 from somebody else that it is "all right." Then if 
 there is a sovereign involved, and plenty of beer, he lets 
 you do much as you choose. So was it with this man. 
 He was provoked to be called up. But once here, he 
 was good-natured enough, and leaving Fitz to open one 
 of the big doors, he paddled off for the beer. One or 
 two other policemen, glad of the shelter, came up, and 
 proved very efficient whenever we wanted some one to 
 lend a hand. But of ourselves we were eight, not count- 
 ing Yan Stael, and Fitz, who is a stout fellow, you 
 know, made nine. 
 
 Tom got his team turned round and backed up to the 
 door more easily than I would have supposed. By the 
 time the one-armed old sergeant was back, with the pot- 
 boy and the beer, we had the six steel rails laid across 
 from the sled to the threshold, and Cromwell's bed was 
 lifted upon the first roller. I told the sergeant that it 
 was very remiss in Sir Christopher Wren that he had 
 not put in a stanchion, which I could haul upon, and I 
 asked if he had heard nothing said about a stanchion. 
 He assured me, almost with tears — for his Christmas had 
 been pretty thorough — that he had no orders about any 
 stanchion, and should not know Sir Christopher if he saw 
 liim. Well, I said, I could not wait aU night. If they 
 would all lend a hand, we would try without any block 
 or stanchion. We fastened the lift-chain to Cromwell's 
 bed, I called the policemen into the hall, and all the 
 
98 CHKISTMAS IK IfAKRAGAKSETT. 
 
 fourteen, seven of them and seven of ours, took liold 
 with a will. Dan and Tom fed the rollers as the bed 
 ran up the rail, and in less than a minute Cromwell lay 
 on his back on the floor of "Westminster Hall. 
 
 It was well-nigh two hundred and fifty years since he 
 had been there last. 
 
 Well, then 1 pretended to make a row. 1 said it was 
 near midnight, and that the Board's people ought to 
 have been there. 1 even gave the old janitor another 
 half sovereign, and told him to go to the " Dean and 
 Chapter" gin-shop and see if there was not a Mr. Tani- 
 berlik of the Board of Scuplture there ; and 1 asked him 
 to wait there for him, if he were not there. As soon as 
 his back was well turned, John took Fihppo and two of 
 the policemen and they handed in the four blocks of 
 "Wenham ice 1 was telling you of. They were good 
 large blocks, twenty inches two ways, by two and a half 
 feet the other way. John fastened them to each other 
 on the floor of Westminster Ilall, by tying one rope 
 round the four. He had thus one united block of ice 
 five feet by three feet four. It did very well. 
 
 Mont, and the Jackass, and Dielmann, and I had been 
 rigging the steel-rod derrick I showed you. That is 
 really Donald's invention, and he ought to have the 
 credit of it. I put one man at each rod, to keep it from 
 slipping. Cromwell rose, lightly, to the suggestion of the 
 triple blocks — 1 put three fellows as guides at each end 
 — and we soon had him high on the ice. Then, as I set 
 out to say, all we had to move was a mass of not more 
 than seven hundred and fifty pounds all told, on a bear- 
 ing of ice of more than sixteen square feet, on those flags 
 of Westminster Hall. We soon had Cromwell and 
 Charles 1. foot to foot — I came near saying face to face. 
 
 And really, that is all about the ice. [And here Joel 
 
CttEISTMAS liT KAKRAGANSETT. 99 
 
 stopped, and made as if the story were done and he 
 would fill his pipe. For the others had begun to smoke. 
 But Mrs. Beard wanted to know what happened then ; 
 and he went on. J 
 
 . . . Well. The truth was, that then came our only 
 difficulty. "We had brought no pedestal. 1 had thought 
 of bringing an oak pedestal I had in " The Avenue," 
 but we had not done it. It seemed as if the nation, or 
 the empire, or whatever it is, ought to furnish the 
 pedestal. So here we were, with the statue, and had no 
 pedestal. 
 
 Clearly enough, he was to stand next Charles the 
 First. 1 said, therefore — and Dielmann agreed — that 
 the true thing to do, was to move Charles II. 's statue 
 upon James II. 's pedestal, move James along one upon 
 WiUiam III.'s, and leave William to the nation to fur- 
 nish him a new pedestal. He was popular, and they 
 would like to do it. So I told the fellows to bring up 
 my steel-rod derrick, and we would swing Charles II. 
 down on the floor, and put Oliver in his place. After 
 that, we could move the others. 
 
 1 do not think it was my fault. But somehow we 
 made a mess here. 1 suppose we wound the Hft-chain a 
 little too low round Chai'les's loins. 1 think the man 
 who made him must have undercut Ms feet and support 
 immensely — more than I did Cromwell's. Anyway, 
 what happened was this. The minute he felt the rope, 
 and was well off his pedestal, he swung round rapidly, 
 his head came down and his heels flew up. The heels 
 struck Filippo and knocked him over. His leg of the 
 derrick slipped, and in two seconds the whole concern, 
 and we who were holding and lifting, came all smash in 
 one heap on the floor. Why, you have no idea how 
 
100 CHBISTIIAS IN NARRAOANSETT, 
 
 heavily it fell ! "We broke — or it broke — tliree of tbose 
 great flags in the floor — 1 mean cracked them badly. 
 
 It was lucky for us that Fitz had taken his policemen 
 oil with him, and that the old janitor was not back from 
 the "Dean and Chapter." Englishmen do not under- 
 stand such things, and they might have been annoyed. 
 I was sorry, for that statue was really a good piece of 
 work. And I saw, to my real regret, that it was 
 smashed all to pieces. But, after all, the main object 
 was accomplished. Indeed, Charles seemed to have a 
 prejudice, perhaps even terror, about Oliver, and had 
 fallen quite wide of him. All we had to do, was to run 
 the ice blocks close to the pedestal, set up the derrick 
 again, and be careful this time about the centre of grav- 
 ity ; and really in less than an hour Cromwell was stand- 
 ing, just as you see him there now, between Charles I. 
 and the Duke of York — I mean James II. 
 
 The old janitor, as I said, had not come back. But 
 he might be back at any moment. I was for explaining 
 the whole to him. But the others said, Tom in particu- 
 lar, that the man was naturally dull, and that to-night, 
 what with Christmas and our beer, he was quite drunk 
 and abnormally stupid. They thought he might be irri- 
 tated if he found the broken statue there. And in fine, 
 they were so urgent that I let them pick up the two 
 arms, and the head, and the sceptre, and the boots, and 
 the broken thighs, and carry them out and put them on 
 our sled. Then six of them lifted Charles's chest and 
 abdomen on our ice slide, and took that to the door, and 
 put that on the sled. And they drove out upon West- 
 minster Bridge and heaved all that good marble into the 
 river. And they did not come back to me. 
 
 I took down the derrick, and, just as the old sergeant 
 came back, I got him and Fitz and Tom to help me, and 
 
CHllISTMAS ISr KARRAQAN8ETT. 101 
 
 we put the rods on Tom's pang, that the ice had come 
 in, and he took that back into " The Avenue," down 
 the Fulham Eoad. Then we untied the blocks of ice 
 and shoved them all out upon the sidewalk. And there 
 they stayed, I believe, till they melted. 
 
 The old sergeant was a good deal dazed. But we had 
 taken away all our lanterns. And when he said he had 
 found no Mr. Tamberlik, I said, " Well, 1 have done all 
 my part, and the Board must do as they choose in the 
 morning." And I gave him another sovereign, and 
 bade him good-night, and went my way. I have never 
 seen him since. 
 
 I think 1 said I had no more orders in London, and I 
 told Filippo that he might pay our rent to Flynn, and 
 ■join me in Genoa, with Thomas — and he did. As for 
 Mont here, and Tom and the rest, 1 found them all at 
 the station early the next morning, and we came across 
 by the early " tidal." And we did not go to England 
 again, any of us, for two or three years. 
 
 Monty there was afraid they might be displeased with 
 the exchange of the statues. 
 
 But I have never heard the first word said about 
 it. 
 
 I do not think tliere is much enthusiasm about the 
 "Merry Monarch," Charles the Second, you know, 
 anyway. 
 
 Somehow or other, there was never the first word said 
 in the newspapers about it. 
 
 You will hardly believe me, but there has never been 
 the slightest expression of thanks for my Cromwell. It 
 may not be a good statue. That is not for me to say. 
 Bat it is a good block. And there is good, honest, con- 
 scientious work in it. It was a labor of love from the 
 first sketch to the last touch on the sword-hilt. Yet not 
 
103 CHRISTMAS IIT IfAEEAGAIfSETT. 
 
 a beggar of them all has even begun to say ' ' Thank 
 you," to the artist who made it. 
 
 Do you know, Mrs. Beard and Mrs. Mason, 1 some- 
 times think that they do not look at those statues at all. 
 They look at the orange-women who sit by them, and at 
 the oranges. But they all hurry through to go into the 
 House of Lords or the House of Commons. 
 
 A few Americans stop and look, but there is not one 
 in a hundred who knows or cares for the difference be- 
 tween the WilKams look in Oliver's face and Henrietta's 
 nose in Charles's face. 
 
 As for the Englishmen, it is clear enough they never 
 look at them, or they would never have left that Hall, 
 as they did, for more than twenty years, without any 
 Cromwell at all. 
 
 When 1 had finished my reading Mrs. Frechette, as 
 the greatest stranger present, thanked me, and asked if 
 1 were not tired. 
 
 Then she said : " And you promised us another story, 
 to which this is the introduction." 
 
 " Yes. We had a nice English gentleman here at 
 Thanksgiving," 1 said. " I told him, as an artist's joke, 
 this story of the statue." I said, " Some young men 
 pretended they had made a statue of Cromwell ; they 
 pretended it was set up in Westminster Hall ; they pre- 
 tended that Charles II. was taken away, and they pre- 
 tended that this Cromwell statue is now standing between 
 Charles I. and James II. 
 
 " And the EngUshman said, ' I remember all about it. 
 It made a good deal of talk at the time. There was a 
 good deal about it in the newspapers. ' 
 
 ■'After that," said I, " I ceased for three days to 
 
CHBISTMAS IS NAKRA.QANSETT. 103 
 
 try to make anybody anywhere understand anything 
 about the place of fiction in literature." 
 
 How much farther our talk may have gone on the 
 theory of story-telling, I do not know. 
 
 Mrs. Frechette was expressing her grief at the suspen- 
 sion of that admirable weekly, Mr. Swinton's Story- 
 Teller — from which I had read " Cromwell's Statue" — 
 when we heard a noise on the gravel and a cheerful shout 
 outside. Door-bell or knocker were not, at that house, 
 as the reader knows. Whoever came so far as the door 
 walked in. 
 
 In a minute more we had two more of the Palace 
 Company of last year — George Hackmatack and his wife 
 — and with them, even to Colonel Ingham's surprise, the 
 two Haliburtons. 
 
 " George stopped one night at our house, and we 
 thought we would come too," said Mr. Ilaliburton, 
 simply. 
 
 " All right," said the colonel ; and Mrs. Ingham took 
 the ladies to their rooms. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The whole party came over to our bouse to breakfast 
 tbe next day. They dropped in, section by section, and 
 took their places at the table as it might happen, begin- 
 ning with good appetite promptly on the Rhode Island 
 corn-dodgers and the Spanish mackerel, on the par- 
 tridges, as they preferred. They owed the partridges to 
 Decker, who had walked out, under Oliver's guidance, 
 with his gun the afternoon the Deckers appeared. 
 
 Colonel Ingham was last of all — talking, as is his cus- 
 tom. He had brought Minna Menet with him, and she 
 was laughing. 
 
 "I was telling the story of Mrs. MuUer," he said. 
 " She wrote home to some friends when she was visiting 
 here, to give an account of our lives. I declare I do not 
 know which of our houses she was at — mine, or Hale's, 
 or the colonel's, or Crapsten's yonder. But slie de- 
 scribed virtuously our reading aloud, our swimming, the 
 row on the pond, the boys' races, and when she came 
 to the evening, she said : 
 
 " ' Then the family meet in the parlor and read aloud 
 to each other the stories they have written in the course 
 of the day. ' 
 
 "I tell Mrs, Menet," said he, "that she will be as 
 badly off as a man was in that place in the old country, 
 where, while you sit for your photograph, a dentist 
 pulls your teeth and a young rhymster reads you his 
 poems." 
 
CHEISTMAS IK KAERAQAKSETT. 105 
 
 Mrs. Menet had to say that so long as they were 
 Colonel Ingham's stories, she should listen gladly. He 
 parried, by saying she would have to hear his stories, 
 while she was in his house, and that there was a certain 
 convenience in having them read from manuscript, for 
 she could then, without shame, take her knitting. 
 
 " But to-day," said he, " there is to be no more such 
 waste of time. Decker and Carter are to go bring us 
 some quail and some partridges. Ilaliburton and Menet 
 and the elder here are to go oS in the Sound yonder for 
 a sail at least, and to try their chances for a fish. I shall 
 take the ladies either to the Peak or to Quonochantaug, 
 and, if it is warm enough under the lee of the walls, Mrs. 
 Menet shall bring us home a new water-color for the 
 gray parlor." 
 
 " And what is the Peak ?" asked Mrs. Menet. " The 
 name sounds attractive. " The rest of us listened, a little 
 curious to see what the colonel would say of the " Peak," 
 which is really " Ingham's Peak," a pile of lost bowlders, 
 rising possibly one hundred and twenty-five feet above 
 the level of high tide, and named many years ago in his 
 honor. 
 
 " ' The Peak,' my dear Mrs. Menet, does not chal- 
 lenge comparison with that of Teneriffe or that of 
 Derbyshire for abruptness. It is easier to climb than 
 either. Trust me, who have been on the summit of all. 
 It commands, however, a near view of Alex Hazard's 
 house and a matchless panoramic view of the ocean. 
 Almost every nook and corner of Spectacle Pond may be 
 traced from its summit by the unaided eye. Best of all, 
 in the minds of the womenkind, there are large bowlders 
 on the spurs which ascend to it, which give good support 
 for weak backs, and good shelter, now from wind and now 
 from sun, and to this adventitious merit it owes a popu- 
 
106 CHKISTMAS IN NARRAQANSETT. 
 
 laritj among feminine walking parties, which even the 
 Jungfrau and Chimborazo do not share." 
 
 " I sympathize with my sex," cried Minna Menet. 
 " I vote for the Peak, and Mrs. Decker and I will take 
 the water-colors there, if, as you say, it be not cold 
 enough to make ice in our brushes." 
 
 " And now," said the colonel, as he declined a fourth 
 cup of coffee, " Miss Bertha shall sing you the ballad of 
 Ben Franklin's ride. The scene is said to have been the 
 old inn, which our friend yonder has buried in the new 
 constructions at Willow Dell. " 
 
 And we huddled together in the little square music- 
 parlor, and Bertha sang 
 
 THE BALLAD OF BEN FRANKLIN AT THE INN. 
 
 It was Mr. Benjaiam Franklin, a-oarrying o£ the mail, 
 
 (Sing ho, for the tallow-chandler' s brother.) 
 He had to be at l^ewport Friday morning without fail, 
 
 (Sing rather, t'other, pother, fuss and bother.) 
 When passing Trustom Pond, as he rode with might and main, 
 He was soaked to the skin by the thunder and the rain ; 
 And when he came to Dead Man's Brook his pony stumbled in, 
 And tumbled Mr. Franklin off and soaked him through again, 
 
 (Sing ho, for the tallow-chandler's mother.) 
 
 " Speed up," he cried, " and bring me to the inn at Willow Dell ;" 
 
 (Sing ho, for the tallow-chandler's cousin.) 
 "Ben Seegar there shall give you oats and Hiram groom you well." 
 
 (Sing ten, eleven, twelve, a baker's dozen.) 
 So quick they strode along the road, and here he entered in. 
 But first, of course, he left his horse all wetted to the skin. 
 But lo ! so many people were around the landlord's fire 
 That he was forced to stand outside, and couldn't come no nigher. 
 
 (Sing five and four and two and one's a dozen.) 
 
CHKISTitAS IIT IJ-ARRAGAifSETT. 107 
 
 3. 
 
 " Good friend," said Mr. Pranklia, as if it were of course, 
 
 (Sing Trustom Bay and lobater-claw and clam-shell.) 
 " I -wish that you -would give a peck of oysters to my horse," 
 
 (Sing lobster-claw and pickerel and clam-shell.) 
 The landlord heard without a word, and, quick as he was able, 
 He shelled the fish and took the dish of oysters to the stable ; 
 And with surprise in all their eyes, the people left the stranger. 
 And crossed the yard in tempest hard to crowd around the manger. 
 Ben Franklin he cared not to see, but took the warmest seat, 
 And hung his coat above the fire and sat and dried his feet. 
 (Sing centipede and crocodile and bomb-shell.) 
 
 4. 
 Five minutes more, and through the door eamo Mr. Landlord swear- 
 ing, 
 (Sing Oliver, Tom Nopes and Benjamin Seegar,) 
 And after him came all the folks, a-wondering and a-staring. 
 
 (Sing Oliver, Queen Moll and Colonel Wager. ) 
 " Your horse won't touch the oysters, sir, altho' they're fresh and 
 
 new, sir." 
 " He won't ?" asked Mr. Franklin ; " that's no offence to you, sir. 
 Tou see, he doesn't know what's good ; but if he don't, I do, sir !" 
 (Sing rheumatiz and gout and shaking ager.) 
 
 " If he had tried your oysters fried, he might not then refuse 'em ; 
 But 1 will sit and toast my feet while Mistress Bowers stews "em." 
 
 "Pardon my dulness," said Mrs. Frechette, as slie 
 walked across to the boathouse with the otlier ladies, 
 resting herself on Colonel Ingham's arm. " Do you say 
 that Ben Franklin did stop at the house yonder in any 
 such plight ? You said that was the scene of the 
 ballad." 
 
 " That Ben Franklin often stopped there, dear Mrs. 
 Frechette, is certain. Is not the house there to this day 
 as an evidence ? And Franklin was for a long time the 
 Postmaster-General of the colony under the crown. So 
 that,- on the legal principle, qui faoit per alium, facit 
 per se, he may be said to have carried the mails from 
 
108 CHEISTMAS IN KAKKAGANSETT. 
 
 Newport to New York. But I fear he never carried 
 them in person. As for the story of the oysters, tliough 
 popularly applied to Franklin in this country, it is as old 
 as Jo Miller, and, I am afraid, older." 
 
 And liere they came to the landing and to the beauti- 
 ful little lake — -which is the colonel's joy and delight — 
 laughing with the light and life of a light breeze. The 
 ladies were warmly dressed — the colonel had half a dozen 
 wolf-skins in the boathouse to lay over them — and they 
 declared that tliey were not cold, as he pulled them across 
 the pond. They joined loyally in his delight — new every 
 morning — as they opened one and another vista in their 
 little voyage, and, as he said to Polly Ingham afterward, 
 ' ' It was a pleasure to have them on board. " To tell the 
 whole truth, his final estimate of people as worthy or 
 unworthy, was based on the opinions they happened to 
 express in this very expedition. 
 
 Clara was steering, and she brought up the boat handily 
 at " Julius's Landing," and the colonel bade his guests 
 disembark. They craftily won his heart completely by 
 protesting that the voyage was not long enough. " My 
 geography is as bad as my history. Colonel Ingham. 
 Was it really here that Julius Csesar landed ? Somehow, 
 I thought it was on the other side." And again the 
 colonel explained. 
 
 Piles of red oak leaves, of yellow chestnut leaves, of 
 red sumach leaves, to plunge through ; a stiff climb up 
 the wooded bank of the lake ; a pretty stile to mount 
 a ad to descend ; a broad stretch of the downs in the 
 crisp, electric air ; a little bit of ruin, where a farm- 
 building of more populous days had rotted away ; an- 
 other ascent by a zigzag path of the little hill dignified 
 as Ingham's Peak, and then the guide let his followers 
 turn and look upon the ocean. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAKEAGANSETT. 109 
 
 As always, it was as new to them as if tliey had never 
 seen it. Blue — so blue ! " deep, dark and beautiful ;" 
 just a strip of foam at one spot, where it broke on a pro- 
 jecting point ; it swept round half their horizon. Some 
 dozen or more miles away, quite'within the great semi- 
 circle, lay the island called *' Claudia" by some — not the 
 Claudia of St. Paul's voyage, but the Block Island of 
 to-day. The white hotels on the cliffs shone out in the 
 clear, low sunlight of December, and so distinct was the 
 whole picture of the island that it was impossible to be- 
 lieve that those homes were so far away. 
 
 " But, if there is to be any drawing," said Colonel 
 Ingham, " it is not to be here. " And he drew the party 
 away to " the shelter of a great rock," where they were 
 screened from the wind, and where the full southern sun 
 blazed upon them. Gershom Wanton, who had carried 
 the easels, was relieved of his load — his brother Gurton 
 had brought up furs from the boat — and the ladies boldly 
 unstrapped his pack, and began. 
 
 " Tell me. Colonel Ingham," said Mrs. Frechette, as 
 she mixed her cobalt with a dash of rose madder, " are 
 you quite in e9,rnest in what you say of short stories ? 
 And tell me why the novels of America are so short, 
 while the novels of England are so long ? And speak to 
 me in detail. For, indeed, I need instruction. I have 
 tried at every comer. I have sent the same story to the 
 Ohristicm, Union, and Independent, and Examiner, and 
 Ledger. I rewrote the first page because it was 
 thumbed and badly soiled by ' readers, ' and I sent it 
 again to Godei/s Boole, to Lippincott, to Soribner, and 
 to Harper ; I then faced it again, and sent it to the 
 Atlantio and the Manhattan. Every editor has been 
 grateful to me, and yet has returned it. Do you per- 
 haps know, from some general law, what is the matter 
 
110 CHEISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 with it ? It seems to me a reasonably good story. I 
 should know that George Eliot did not write it. But I 
 have read many worse things in my day." 
 
 " G-eorge Eliot wrote no good short stories that I 
 remember," said the ccTlonel. " Tours would doubtless 
 be better if it were longer. I do not say that as matter 
 of compliment. But it has been my duty to read thou- 
 sands, and, in general, that is the difficulty. The con- 
 densation is put in at the wrong place. I think you 
 would make a very good novel. 
 
 " Oddly enough, in a great many eases I have ob- 
 served that women tired of their work in the middle. 
 
 " Did you perhaps lay yours by for some weeks ? 
 Did you thexx take it up and say, ' I will finish off that 
 horrid thing ' ? Did you finish it slap-dash, and send it, 
 with its sins, to the editor ?" 
 
 " Colonel Ingham, I am afraid of you. Tou are a 
 wizard 1 I did that very thing. " 
 
 " Yes. You could not work in the same heat the 
 second time as the first. The two parts of your casting 
 show the joint, and indeed cleave apart there. I have 
 seen many such. ' ' 
 
 " Can you advise ?" said Mrs. Frechette, seriously this 
 time. " I am very teachable." 
 
 " No ! I wish I could," said he. " Often did I wish 
 to, when I also was an editor. The only good rule is my 
 uncle's for a sermon : ' When it is done, leave off the 
 introduction and omit the conclusion. ' 
 
 " People are always telling you why they write their 
 stories. Who cares ? This, by the way, is the rule for 
 public speech. The man who talks of himself is almost 
 certainly a fool. 
 
 "Begin." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Frechette. " It is like this thing 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NARRAGAIfSBTT. Ill 
 
 — water-color — in which Mrs. Decker and I both know 
 that what we need is Vaudace, Vaudace, totijours 
 Vaudaee, and to leave out everything that is not neces- 
 sary." 
 
 " Every jot and every tittle," said the colonel. 
 " Trust one who knows his own sins. Every word and 
 syllable should fight for its life — for its right to be. 
 ' Yet ' is better than ' nevertheless. ' And how much 
 better to say, ' Jesus went to Jerusalem ' than to say, 
 ' The founder of our religion proceeded to the metropolis 
 of his country. ' But I did not mean to speak of style. 
 If there is any sentence which the story does not need, 
 or which does not help the reader, let it stand aside. As 
 Mr. Ross said to me of the first number of my magazine, 
 ' It would have been better had you passed it all through 
 the telegraph,' 
 
 " Which reminds me that I once wrote a short story, 
 meaning to do that very thing with it. 
 
 " They had just opened the Eapid Telegraph between 
 Boston and New York. 
 
 " I had just heard Mr. Trowbridge's curious account 
 of his discovery, that you can receive what they call the 
 earth current and catch any one's secret. 
 
 " As I walked home I said, ' Who will be first to 
 make a novel of this ? I will.' 
 
 " There is a good enough illustration of the genesis of 
 a story. 
 
 " I said, ' What shall be the secret discovered ? ' 
 Answer. ' A faithless lover's. ' 
 
 " 'Who shall discover it?' Answer. 'The girl he 
 wrongs. ' 
 
 ' ' There is the story, you see. All I had to do — and I did 
 it before I went to bed — was to find a name for the man, 
 a name for the girl, a place for both, and tell the story. 
 
113 CHRISTJIAS IN' KAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 " Then 1 did not want to have people sorry for her — 
 I did want them to despise and dislike him. 
 
 " So as you put reds in your foreground to bring them 
 forward, and blues in the distances to throw them back, 
 I tinged my man and my woman. 
 
 " Then I stinted myself to two hundred and fifty 
 words, 1 think, because the story was to go by the 
 Eapid Telegraph." 
 
 "I remember the story," said Mrs. Decker. "We 
 read it on the Celtic. I believe 1 wished it were 
 longer." 
 
 " You are very good," said the colonel. " Of course 
 it could have been longer. There is a skeleton for three 
 volumes. But 1 think it better to write a short story 
 from which a long one can be evolved, than to write a 
 long one which is to be cut down to so small a pattern." 
 
 It was thus that these crafty women lured Colonel 
 Ingham from his resolution, and, after they had all re- 
 turned home, persuaded him to read them the story of 
 
 THE RETURN MESSAGE. 
 
 She parted from him with the old hankering for some- 
 thing better. What was amiss ? Must it always be 
 amiss ? Had all women this hitch, this jar, with the 
 men they loved ? Of course she loved him. Of couree 
 he loved her. Why could not there be the abandon and 
 joy she had always dreamed of in her girlhood when she 
 read of love ? 
 
 " She" was Euth Lindsay. You would have called 
 her a queen anywhere. Tall, handsome — oh, so hand- 
 some ! — and still lovely ; young, but strong ; grave, but 
 cheerful ; joyous, but ^vbe ; loved by aU her school 
 
CHRISTHAS m NAREAGANSETT. 113 
 
 companions, half worshipped by half the men. And 
 Euth had parted thus, dissatisfied at heart — though she 
 ■was too proud to own this — from Alfred Moshier. They 
 had been engaged, now seven weeks, since they crossed 
 the ocean on the Parthia. 
 
 ' ' I will not worry any longer, " said Ruth, aloud. 
 She girt herself for work. She wenb do^\Ti to old Mrs. 
 Eoyal's and washed the baby, who needed it badly, aired 
 the bedroom while Mrs. Koyal sat over the fire. She 
 went to the French reading, and laughed her best and 
 brightest as the professor read " L'Ami Inconnu." She 
 came home, and looked round her work-room for some- 
 thing that would take her out of herself. " I will talk 
 with the newts and moles," she said. " 1 will see what 
 they are saying." 
 
 So she lifted her telephone from the wall, called 
 Csesar's boy Pompey, and bade him carry the heavy 
 plates, and went down to her dreaming-place in the 
 garden. She sent Pompey away, sank the plates her- 
 self, with her trowel, in the border, and began to listen 
 to the endless sounds, which came in a strange refrain, 
 as grass grows, and dews distill, and crystals take form 
 in mother earth. She was soothed by the unrhythmed 
 music ; more and more did it rest her, when suddenly, 
 
 " Taap, tap, tap — tap — tap, taap — tap, taap, tap — tap 
 — tap, tap, tap — taap — long and short, in tones no mole 
 ^ uses nor root of grass, sounded the word " Dearest" to 
 her well-trained sense. " Fine-ear" himself, in the 
 story, never listened more absorbed. " Dearest, dear- 
 est," the taps went on, " answer — answer now. — Mo- 
 SHiEK." More faint, but perfectly clear, came, from 
 another direction, as was evident, " O. K. 1 am here — 
 wire open. Your pet." "My pet and my darling," 
 said Moshier, in answer ; "oh, 1 am dead bored — eay 
 
114 CHUISTMAS IN NAEKAGANSETT. " 
 
 sometliing sweet to me." " Poor old boy ! poor darling 
 dear ! where has he been ?" was the telegraph girl's 
 reply. " He has not been with his heart's delight, he 
 can tell you that," tapped Moshier. And Euth, or 
 Fine-ears, threw the listening-cup upon the ground. 
 She was one too many in this tete-d-tete. 
 
 Moshier was an observer in the great Tamworth Ob- 
 servatory. He was using the time -wire in this disgust- 
 ing intrigue. Ruth had hit upon Mr. Trowbridge's 
 curious discovery, by which you can take, with the tele- 
 phone, anywhere from the ground, the " return mes- 
 sage," as the electricians call it. She sent her return 
 message by mail to the faithless Alfred as soon as she 
 reached the house. Her mystery was solved. He did 
 not love her. And she — she had been trying, from 
 mere loyalty, to love him. She wrote her proud note of 
 dismissal with absolute joy. 
 
 She went to the reception at Mrs. Mandell's once 
 more perfectly happy. 
 
 The sailing party returned late to lunch, just as the 
 others would have left the table. But they were not 
 unused to such irregularities at Sybaris, and the appetites 
 of the seamen were provided for, while the others sat 
 by, to see them eat and to hear their adventures. As 
 they were finishing this lazy meal — which had now lasted 
 perhaps two hours — the dogs were heard without, and the 
 sportsmen came in, not disinclined to begin in turn. 
 Mrs. Ingham proposed to them to tell their adventures 
 in the gray parlor, and to have their lunch brought to 
 them there. To this they agreed ; and thus, when, late 
 in the afternoon, we crossed over from our house, where 
 we had finished our lunch and the naps ■which followed 
 
CHEISTMAS IK NARRAGAKSETT. 115 
 
 them, we found the third edition of their lunch going 
 forward, with the large party lolling or lying or sitting 
 on various divans, lounges, or easy-chairs, engaged in 
 quite an earnest discussion of the subject brought up by 
 Mrs. Menet in the morning. As it happened, the group 
 was a group of short story-tellers. I had done ray little 
 share in the same line, and the conversation had to me 
 an interest which was, in a way, professional. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 One of the boys gave up his chair to me as 1 entered, 
 and flung himself on a grizzly-bear-skin, a present from 
 a TJte chief to Ingham. My entrance scarcely made an 
 interruption. 
 
 He turned to me, as is his way, for confirmation for 
 some statement which seemed a little audacious. 
 
 I said that it seemed to me that a short^story was to be 
 compared rather to a play than a novel. 1 should not 
 insist on the Unities. 1 wrote a short story once, of 
 which the action covered nearly sixty years. But you 
 must not, 1 think, have many characters ; I think you 
 must have no episodes ; I doubt whether you may even 
 have a double plot. If you want to marry off two or 
 three accessory couples at the end, do so. But do not 
 let their flirtations interfere with the play of the story. 
 Take, for instance, Mr. Stockton's perfect story of the 
 bull-calf. Here you are in the confidence of the artist- 
 author from the beginning. He tells you all his thought. 
 You can see his foibles better than he sees them himself. 
 You sleep with him. You wake with him. But you 
 never leave him. He never leaves you. There is no 
 " We must now turn to see what A and B are doing." 
 You do not turn to anything. You begin at the begin- 
 ning, and you end at the end. 
 
 Mrs. Frechette listened attentively, nodded — as to say 
 she understood — and indeed said, "I see already that 
 
CHRISTMAS Ilf NASKAGANSETT. 117 
 
 my last story had four plots, where each of you gentle- 
 men would have had but one." 
 
 "Say, rather," I said, "that we old stagers should 
 have made four stories of the four plots. I then told 
 her how I once made eight stories in the same afternoon. 
 I was responsible for the Christmas number of a maga- 
 zine. We had admirable writing in it, for the purposes 
 of those who wrote our advertisements. Very impor- 
 tant people had contributed. There was no doubt but 
 the "trade" would order largely. But it was revealed 
 to me, as I took a long walk, that, on the whole, the 
 little collection was dull. This is an unpardonable fault. 
 It was wise. It was valuable. It was even witty. It 
 was instructive. It was pathetic. But it was not amus- 
 ing. It was dull. Now, three fourths of it had passed 
 the press. And there is as yet no method known by 
 which you can either inspissate entertainingness into a 
 dull article — no — or varnish it with an entertaining 
 copal. People will say to a portrait painter, " Could not 
 you make it all just two shades lighter in complexion ?' ' 
 but he cannot do it. No more can a magazine editor 
 key up a whole number to be two semitones more enter- 
 taining, though often he would gladly do so. 
 
 What he can do, I did. 
 
 He can put in one preposterous burlesque. He can 
 thus raise the average, and with his deep bass accom- 
 paniment growling double B, he can, for six or eight 
 pages, interpolate a very light, even frothy or gaseous, 
 strain — let us hope it may be adagio itself — and in ex- 
 quisite melody. 
 
 Briefly I inserted one article of eight pages of bur- 
 lesque, and these eight pages contained eight short stories. 
 
 As I said, 1 created the plots in an hour's walk. 1 
 wrote out the tales in two seomoes the next day. 
 
118 CHKISTMAS IK NAKEAGANSETT. 
 
 Mrs. Menet was good enough to say tliat she thonght 
 it would be instructive if we could, at that stage, hear 
 them. 
 
 I sent Paul out to the library for the well-remembered 
 volume, and when he had found it he read, at my 
 request, 
 
 THE SURVIVOR'S STORY. 
 
 Fortunately we were with our wives. 
 
 It is in general an excellent custom, as 1 will explain 
 if opportunity is given. 
 
 First, you are thus sure of good company. 
 
 For four mortal hours we had ground along, and 
 stopped and waited and started again, in the drifts be- 
 tween "Westfield and Springfield. We had shrieked out 
 our woes by the voices of fire-engines. Brave men had 
 dug. Patient men had sat inside and waited for the 
 results of the digging. At last, in triumph, at eleven 
 and three quarters, as they say in Cinderella, we entered 
 the Springfield station. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve ! 
 
 Leaving the train to its devices, Blatchford and his 
 wife (her name was Sarah), and I with mine (her name 
 was Phebe), walked quickly with our little sacks out of 
 the station, ploughed and waded along the white street, 
 not to the Massasoit — no, but to the old Eagle and Star, 
 which was still standing, and was a favorite with us 
 youngsters. Good wafiles, maple syrup, ad lib., such 
 fixings of other sorts as we preferred, and some liberty. 
 The amount of liberty in absolutely first-class hotels is 
 but small. A drowsy boy waked, and turned up the 
 gas. Blatchford entered our names on the register, and 
 cried at once, " By George, Wolfgang is here, and 
 
CHRISTMAS IK KAERAGAKSETT. , 119 
 
 Dick ! "What luck !" for Dick and Wolfgang also 
 travel with their wives. The boy explained that they 
 had come up the river in the New Haven train, were 
 only nine hours behind time, had arrived at ten, and had 
 just finished supper and gone to bed. We ordered rare 
 beefsteak, waffles, dip-toast, omelettes with kidneys, 
 and omelettes without ; we toasted our feet at the open 
 fire in the parlor ; we ate the supper when it was ready ; 
 and we also went to bed ; rejoicing that we had home 
 with us, having travelled with our wives ; and that we 
 could keep our Merry Christmas here. If only Wolf- 
 gang and Dick and their wives would join us, all would 
 be well. (Wolfgang's wife was named Bertha, and 
 Dick's was named Hosanna — a name I have never met 
 with elsewhere.) 
 
 Bed followed ; and I am a graceless dog that 1 do not 
 write a sonnet here on the unbroken slumber that fol- 
 lowed. Breakfast, by arrangement of us four, at nine. 
 At 9.30, to us enter Bertha, Dick, Hosanna, and Wolf- 
 gang, to name them in alphabetical order. Four chairs 
 had been turned down for them. Four chops, four 
 omelettes, and four small oval dishes of fried potatoes 
 had been ordered, and now appeared. Immense shout- 
 ing, immense kissing among those who had that privi- 
 lege, general wondering, and great congratulating that 
 our wives were there. Solid resolution that we would 
 advance no farther. Here, and here only, in Springfield 
 itself, would we celebrate our Christmas Day. 
 
 It may be remarked in parenthesis that we had learned 
 already that no train had entered the town since eleven 
 and a quarter ; and it was known by telegraph that none 
 was within thirty- four miles and a half of the spot, at the 
 moment the vow was made. 
 
 We waded and ploughed our way through the snow to 
 
130 CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 cliurcli. I think Mr. Eumfry, if that is the gentleman's 
 name who preached an admirable Christmas sermon, in a 
 beautiful church there is, will remember the platoon of 
 four men and four women, who made perhaps a fifth of 
 his congregation in that storm — a storm which shut off 
 most church-going. Home again : a jolly fire in the 
 parlor, dry stockings, and dry slippers. Turkeys, and 
 all things fitting for the dinner ; and then a general as- 
 sembly, not in a caravansary, not in a coffee-room, but 
 in the regular guests' parlor of a New England second- 
 class hotel, where, as it was ordered, there were no 
 " transients" but ourselves that day ; and whence all the 
 " boarders" had gone either to their own rooms or to 
 other homes. 
 
 For people who have their wives with them, it is not 
 difficult to provide entertainment on such an occasion. 
 
 " Bertha," said Wolfgang, " could you not entertain 
 us with one of your native dances V 
 
 " Ho ! slave," Said Dick to Hosanna, " play upon the 
 virginals." And Hosanna played a lively Arab air on 
 the tavern piano, while the fair Bertha danced with a 
 spirit unusual. Was it indeed in memory of the Christ- 
 mas of her own dear home in Oircassia ? 
 
 All that, from " Bertha" to " Circassia," is not so. 
 We did not do this at all. That was all a slip of the 
 pen. What we did was this. John Blatchford pulled 
 the bell-cord till it broke (they always break in novels, 
 and sometimes they do in taverns). This bell-cord 
 broke. The sleepy boy came ; and John said, " Caitiff, 
 is there never a barber in the house ?" The frightened 
 boy said there was ; and John bade him send him. In 
 a minute the barber appeared — black, as was expected — 
 with a shining face, and white teeth, and in shirt-sleeves, 
 and broad inquiry. " Do you tell me, Csesar," said John, 
 
CIIRISTiTAS IX N-ARKAaAKSETT. 121 
 
 " that in your country they do not wear their coats on 
 Christmas day ?" " Sartin, they do, sar, when they go 
 outdoors." 
 
 "Do you tell me, Caesar," said Dick, "that they 
 have doors in your country ?" " Sartin, they do," said 
 poor Cgesar, flurried. 
 
 "Boy," said I, "the gentlemen are making fun of 
 you. They want to know if you ever keep Christmas in 
 your country without a dance." 
 
 " Never, sar," said poor Caesar. 
 
 " Do they dance without music ?" 
 
 " No, sar ; never." 
 
 " Go, then,"! said, in my sternest accents — " go fetch 
 a zittern, or a banjo, or a kit, or a hurdy-gurdy, or a 
 fiddle." 
 
 The black boy went, and returned with his violin. 
 And as the light grew gray, and crept into the darkness, 
 and as the darkness gathered more thick and more, he 
 played for us, and he played for us, tune after tune ; 
 and we danced — first with precision, then in sport, then 
 in wild holiday frenzy. We began with waltzes — so 
 great is the convenience of travelling with your wives — ■ 
 where should we have been, had we been all sole alone, 
 four men ? Probably playing whist or euchre. And 
 now we began with waltzes, which passed into polkas, 
 which subsided into round dances ; and then in very 
 exhaustion we fell back in a grave quadrille. I danced 
 with Hosanna ; Wolfgang and Sarah were our vis-d-vis. 
 We went through the same set that Noah and his three 
 boys danced in the ark with their four wives, and which 
 has been danced ever since, in every moment, on one or 
 another spot of the dry earth, going round it with the 
 sun, like the drumbeat of England — ^right and left, first 
 two forward, right hand across, pastorale — the whole 
 
123 CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 Beries of them ; we did them with as much spirit as if it 
 had been on a fiat on the side of Ararat, ground yet too 
 muddy for croquet. Then Blatchford called for " Vir- 
 ginia Eeel," and we raced and chased through that. 
 Poor Caesar began to get exhausted, but a little flip from 
 down-stairs helped him amazingly. And, after the flip, 
 Dick cried, " Can you not dance ' Money-Musk ' ?" 
 And in one wild frenzy of delight we danced " Money 
 Musk" and " Hull's Victory" and " Dusty Miller" and 
 " Youth's Companion," and " Irish Jigs" on the closet- 
 door lifted ofE for the occasion, till the men lay on the 
 floor screaming with the fun, and the women fell back 
 on the sofas, fairly faint with laughing. 
 
 All this last, since the sentence after " Circassia," is a 
 mistake. There was not any bell, nor any barber, and 
 we did not dance at all. This was all a slip of my 
 memory. 
 
 "What we really did was this : 
 
 John Blatchford said, "Let us all tell stories." It 
 was growing dark and he had put more logs on the fire. 
 
 Bertha said : 
 
 " Heap on more wood, the ■wind is cMU ; 
 But let it whistle as it will, 
 We'll keep our merry Christmas still." 
 
 She said that because it was in " Bertha's Visit," a 
 very stupid book, which she remembered. 
 Then "Wolfgang told 
 
 THE PBNNY-A-LINBR'B STOKY. 
 
 [Wolfgang is a reporter, or was then, on the staff of 
 the Star.'] 
 
 When I was on the Tribune (he never was on the 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAKEAGANSETT. 123 
 
 Tribune an hour, unless lie calls selling the Tribune at 
 Fort Plains being on the Tribune). But I tell the story 
 as he told it. He said : 
 
 When 1 was on the Tribune, 1 was despatched to 
 report Mr. Webster's great reply to Hayne. This was 
 in tlie days of stages. We had to ride from Baltimore 
 to Washington early in the morning to get there in time. 
 I found my boots were gone from my room when the 
 stage-man called me, and I reported that speech in 
 worsted slippers my wife had given me the week before. 
 As we came into Bladensburg it grew light, and 1 recog- 
 nized my boots on the feet of my fellow-passenger — ■ 
 there was but one other man in the stage. 1 turned to 
 claim them, but stopped in a moment, for it was Web- 
 ster himself. How serene his face looked as he slept 
 there ! He woke soon, passed the time of day, offered 
 me a part of a sandwich — for we were old friends — I 
 was counsel against him in the Ogden case. Said Web- 
 ster to me, " Steele, 1 am bothered about this speech ; 
 1 have a paragraph in it which I cannot word up to my 
 mind ;" and he repeated it to me. " How would this 
 do ?" said he. " ' Let us hope that the sense of un- 
 restricted freedom may be so intertwined with the desire 
 to preserve a connection of the several parts of the body 
 politic, that some arrangement, more or less lasting, 
 may prove in a measure satisfactory. ' How would that 
 do?" 
 
 I said I liked the idea, but the expression seemed in- 
 volved. 
 
 "And it is involved," said Webster ;" but I can't 
 improve it. " 
 
 " How would this do ?" said I. 
 
 " ' LlBEETT AND TJnION, NOW AND FOEEVEE, ONE AND 
 IN3EPAKABLE ! ' " 
 
134 CHRISTMAS IS NAEKAGANSETT. 
 
 " Capital !" lie said, " capital ! write that down for 
 me." At that moment we arrived at the Capitol steps. 
 I wrote down the words for him, and from my notes he 
 read them, when that place in the speech came along. 
 
 All of lis applauded the story. 
 
 Phebe then told 
 
 THE schoolmistress's STORT. 
 
 You remind me of the impression that very speech 
 made on me, as 1 heard Henry Chapin deliver it at an 
 exhibition at Leicester Academy. I resolved then that 
 1 would free the slave, or perish in the attempt. But 
 how ? I, a woman — disfranchised by the law ? Ha ! I 
 
 saw 
 
 I went to Arkansas. 1 opened a "Normal College, 
 or Academy for Teachers." We had balls every second 
 night, to make it popular. Immense numbers came. 
 Half the teachers of the Southern States were trained 
 there. I had admirable instructors in oil painting and 
 music — the most essential studies. The arithmetic I 
 taught myself: 1 taught it well. I achieved fame. I 
 achieved wealth ; invested in Arkansas five per cents. 
 Only one secret device 1 persevered in. To aU — old and 
 young, innocent girls and sturdy men — I so taught the 
 multiplication table, that one fatal error was hidden in 
 its array of facts. The nine line is the difficult one. 1 
 buried the error there. "Nine times six," I taught 
 them, "is fifty-six." The rhyme made it easy. The 
 gilded falsehood passed from lip to lip, from State to 
 State— one little speck in a chain of golden verity. I 
 retired from teaching. Slowly I watched the growth of 
 the rebellion. At last the aloe blossom shot up — after 
 its hundred years of waiting. The Southern heart was 
 
CHEISTMAS IK KAEEAQANSETT. 125 
 
 fired. 1 brooded over my revenge. I repaired to Eich- 
 mond. I opened a first-elass boarding-house, where all 
 the Cabinet, and most of the Senate, came for their 
 meals ; and 1 had eight permanents. Soon their brows 
 clouded. The first flush of victory passed away. Night 
 after night they sat over their calculations, which all 
 came wrong. I smiled — and was a villain ! E"one of 
 their sums would prove. None of their estimates 
 matched the performance ! Never a muster-roll that 
 fitted as it should do ! And 1 — the despised boarding- 
 mistress — I alone knew why ! Often and pften, when 
 iMemminger has said to ine, with an oath, " Why this 
 discordancy in our totals ?" have my lips burned to tell 
 the secret ! But no ! I hid it in my bosom. And 
 when, at last, I saw a black regiment march into Rich- 
 mond, singing " John Brown," I cried, for the first time 
 in twenty years, " Six times nine is fifty -four ;" and 
 gloated in my sweet revenge. 
 
 Then was hushed the harp of Phebe, and Dick told 
 his story. 
 
 THE INSPECTOR OF GAS-METEKS' STOUT. 
 
 Mine is a tale of the ingratitude of republics. It is 
 well-nigh thirty years since I was walking by the Owego 
 and Ithaca Railroad — a crooked road, not then adapted 
 to high speed. Of a sudden I saw that a long cross 
 timber, on a trestle, high above a swamp, had sprung up 
 from its ties. I looked for a spike with which to secure 
 it. I found a stone with which to hammer the spike. 
 But, at this moment, a train approached, down hill. I 
 screamed. They heard ! But the engine had no power 
 to stop the heavy train. "With the presence of mind of 
 a poet, and the courage of a hero, I flung my own 
 
126 CHRlSrilAS Ilif N-AERAGAITSETT. 
 
 weight on tlio fatal timber. 1 would hold it down, or 
 perisli. The engine came. The elasticity of the pine 
 timber whirled me in the air ! But I held on. The 
 tender crossed. Again I was flung in wild gyrations. 
 But I held on. " It is no bed of roses," I said ; " but 
 what act of Parliament was there that I should be 
 happy." Three passenger cars and ten freight cars, as 
 was then the vicious custom of that road, passed me. 
 But I held on, repeating to myself texts of Scripture to 
 give me courage. As the last car passed, I was whirled 
 into the air by the rebound of the rafter. " Heavens !" 
 I said, " if my orbit is a hyperbola, I shall never return 
 to earth." Hastily 1 estimated its ordinates, and calcu- 
 lated the curve. What bliss ! It was a parabola 1 
 After a flight of a hundred and seventeen cubits, I 
 landed, head down, in a soft mud-hole ! 
 
 In that train was the young U. S. Grant, on his way 
 to West Point for examination. But for me the armies 
 of the Eepubhc would have had no leader. 
 
 I pressed my claim, when I asked to be appointed 
 Minister to England. Although no one else wished to 
 go, I alone was forgotten. Such is gratitude with 
 republics ! 
 
 He ceased. Then Sarah Blatchford told 
 
 THE WHEELER AJSTD WILSON's OPERATrVB'S STOKT. 
 
 My father had left the anchorage of Sorrento for a 
 short voyage, if voyage it may be called. Life was 
 young, and this world seemed heaven. The yacht 
 bowled on under tight-reefed stay-sails, and all was 
 happy. Suddenly the corsairs seized us ; all were slain 
 in my defence ; but I — this fatal gift of beauty bade 
 them spare my life ! 
 
CHRISTMAS IS NAEKAGAKSETT. 137 
 
 "Why linger on my tale ! In the Zenana of the Shah 
 of Persia I^ found my home. " How escape his eye ?" 
 I said ; and, fortunately, 1 remembered that in my reti- 
 cule I carried one box of F. Kidder's indelible ink. 
 Instantly 1 applied the liquid in the large bottle to one 
 cheek. Soon as it was dry, I applied that in the small 
 bottle, and sat in the sun one hour. My head ached 
 with the sunlight, but what of that ? I was a fright, 
 and I knew all would be well. 
 
 I was consigned, so soon as my hideous deficiencies 
 were known, to the sewing-room. Then how I sighed 
 for my machine ! Alas ! it was not there ; but I con- 
 structed an imitation from a cannon-wheel, a cofEee-mill, 
 and two nut-crackers. And with this I made the under- 
 clothing for the palace and the Zenana. 
 
 I also vowed revenge. Nor did I doubt one instant 
 how ; for in my youth I had read Lucretia Borgia's 
 memoirs, and I had a certain rule for slowly slaying a 
 tyrant at a distance. 1 was in charge of the Shah's own 
 linen. Every week 1 set back the buttons on his shirt 
 collars by the width of one thread ; or, by arts known to 
 me, I shrunk the binding of the collar by a like propor- 
 tion. Tighter and tighter with each week did the vice 
 close around his larynx. Week by week, at the high 
 religious festivals, I could see his face was blacker and 
 blacker. At length the hated tyrant died. The leeches 
 called it apoplexy. 1 did not undeceive them. His 
 guards sacked the palace. 1 bagged the diamonds, fled 
 with them to Trebizond, and sailed thence in a caique 
 to South Boston. No more ! such memories oppress 
 me. 
 
 Her voice was hushed. I told my tale in turn. 
 
128 CHIlISTilAS IK KARRAGANSETT. 
 
 THE conductor's STORY. 
 
 I was poor. Let this be my excuse, or rather my apol- 
 ogy. I entered a Third Avenue car at Thirty-sixth 
 Street, and saw the conductor sleeping. Satan tempted 
 me, and I took from him his badge, 213. 1 see the 
 hated figures now. When he woke, he knew not he had 
 lost it. The car started, and he walked to the rear. 
 With the badge on my coat I collected eight fares 
 within, stepped forward, and sprang into the street. 
 Poverty is my only apology for the crime. 1 concealed 
 myself in a cellar where men were playing with props. 
 Fear is my only excuse. Lest they should suspect me, I 
 joined their game, and my forty cents were soon three 
 dollars and seventy. With these ill-gotten gains I 
 visited the gold exchange, then open evenings. My 
 superior intelligence enabled me to place well my modest 
 means, and at midnight I had a competence. Let me be 
 a warning to all young men. Since that night 1 have 
 never gambled more. 
 
 I threw the hated badge into the river. I bought a 
 palace on Murray Hill, and led an upright and honorable 
 life. But since that night of terror the sound of the 
 horse-cars oppresses me. Always since, to go up-town 
 or down, 1 order my own coupe, with George to drive 
 me ; and never have I entered the cleanly, sweet, and 
 airy carriage provided for the public. I cannot ; con- 
 science is too much for me. You see in me a monument 
 of crime. 
 
 I said no more. A moment's pause, a few natural 
 tears, and a single sigh hushed the assembly ; then Ber- 
 tha, with her siren voice, told 
 
CHKISTMAS !«■ NARRAGANSETT. 139 
 
 THE WIFE OF BIDDEFOED'S BTORT. 
 
 At tlie time you speak of 1 was the private governess 
 of two lovely boys, Julius and Pompey — Pompey the 
 senior of the two. The black-eyed darling ! I see him 
 now. 1 also see, hanging to his neck, his blue- eyed 
 brother, who had given Pompey his black eye the day 
 before. Pompey was generous to a fault ; Julius parsi- 
 monious beyond virtue. I, therefore, instructed them 
 in two different rooms. To Pompey, 1 read the story of 
 " Waste not, want not." To Julius, on the other hand, 
 1 spoke of the All-love of his great Mother Nature, and, 
 her profuse gifts to her children. Leaving him with 
 grapes and oranges, 1 stepped back to Pompey, and 
 taught him how to untie parcels so as to save the string. 
 Leaving him winding the string neatly, T went back to 
 Julius, and gave to him ginger-cakes. The dear boys 
 grew from year to year. They outgrew their knicker- 
 bockers, and had trowsers. They outgrew their jackets, 
 and became men ; and I felt that I had not lived in vain. 
 1 had conquered nature. Pompey, the little spendthrift, 
 was the honored cashier of a savings bank, till he ran 
 away with the capital. Julius, the miser, became the 
 chief croupier at the New Crockford's. One of those 
 boys is now in Botany Bay, and the other is in Sierra 
 Leone ! 
 
 " I thought you were going to say in a hotter place," 
 said John Blatchford ; and he told his story : 
 
 THE STOKEB'a STORY. 
 
 "We were crossing the Atlantic in a Cunarder. I was 
 second stoker on the starboard watch. In that horrible 
 gale we spoke of before dinner, the coal was exhausted, 
 
130 CHEISTMAS m WAERAGANSETT. 
 
 and I, as the best-dressed man, was sent up to the cap- 
 tain to ask him what we should do. I found him him- 
 self at the wheel. He almost cursed me, and bade me 
 say nothing of coal, at a moment when he must keep her 
 head to the wind with her full power, or we were lost. 
 He bade me slide my hand into his pocket, and take out 
 the key of the after freight-room, open that, and use the 
 contents for fuel. I returned hastily to the engine- 
 room, and we did as we were bid. The room contained 
 nothing but old account books, which made a hot and 
 effective fire. 
 
 On the third day the captain came down himself into 
 the engine-room, where I had never seen him before, 
 called me aside, and told me that by mistake he had 
 given me the wrong key ; asking me if I had used it. I 
 pointed to him the empty room ; not a leaf was left. 
 He turned pale with fright. As I saw his emotion he 
 confided to me the truth. The books were the evidences 
 or accounts of the British national debt ; of what is 
 familiarly known as the Consolidated Fund, or the 
 " Consols." They had been secretly sent to New York 
 for the examination of Jam&s Fiske, who had been asked 
 to advance a few millions on this security to the English 
 Exchequer, and now all evidence of indebtedness was 
 gone ! 
 
 The captain was about to leap into the sea. But I 
 dissuaded him. 1 told him to say nothing ; I would 
 keep his secret ; no man else knew it. The government 
 would never utter it. It was safe in our hands. He 
 reconsidered his purpose. We came safe to port and 
 did — nothing. 
 
 Only on the first quarter-day which followed, I ob- 
 tained leave of absence, and visited the Bank of Eng- 
 land, to see what happened. At the door was this pla- 
 
CHEISTMAS lif NARRAGAN'SETT. 131 
 
 card, " Applicants Jor dividends will file a written appli- 
 cation, with name and amount, at desk A, and proceed 
 in turn to the Paying Teller's Ofiice." 1 saw their 
 ingenuity. They were making out new books, certain 
 that none would apply but those who were accustomed 
 to. So skilfully do men of government study human 
 nature. 
 
 1 stepped lightly to one of the public desks. 1 took 
 one of the blanks. I filled it out, " John Blatchford, 
 £114:7 6s. 8d." and handed it in at the open trap. 1 
 took my place in the queue in the teller's room. After 
 an agreeable hour, a pile, not thick, of Bank of England 
 notes was given to me ; and since that day, I have 
 quarterly drawn that amount from the maternal govern- 
 ment of that country. As I left the teller's room, I ob- 
 served the captain in the queue. He was the seventh 
 man from the window, and I have never seen him more. 
 
 We then asked Hosanna for her story. 
 
 TUB N. E. HISTORICAL GENEALOGIST'S STOKT. 
 
 " My story," said she, " will take us far back into the 
 past. It will be necessary for me to dwell on some inci- 
 dents in the first settlement of this country, and I pro- 
 pose that we first prepare and enjoy the Christmas tree. 
 After this, if your courage holds, you shall hear an over- 
 true tale." Pretty creature, how little she knew what 
 Avas before us ! 
 
 As we had sat listening to the stories, we had been 
 preparing for the tree. Shopping being out of tlie ques- 
 tion, we were fain from our own stores to make up our 
 presents, while the women were arranging nuts, and 
 blown egg-shells, and pop-corn strings from the stores of 
 the Eagle and Star. The popping of corn in two 
 
132 CHRISTMAS IS NAREAGAN'SETT. 
 
 corn-poppers had gone . on through the whole of the 
 story-telling. All being so nearly ready, I called the 
 drowsy boy again, and, showing him a very largo stick 
 in the wood-box, asked him to bring me a hatchet. To 
 my great joy he brought the axe of the establishment, 
 and I bade him farewell. How little did he think what 
 was before him ! So soon as he had gone I went stealth- 
 ily down the stairs, and stepping out into the deep snow, 
 in front of the hotel, looked up into the lovely night. 
 The storm had ceased, and I could see far back into the 
 lieavens. In the still evening my strokes might have 
 been heard far and wide, as I cut down one of the two 
 pretty Norways that shaded Mr. Pynehon's front walk, 
 next the hotel. I dragged it over the snow. Blatch- 
 ford and Steele lowered sheets to me from the large 
 parlor window, which 1 attached to the larger end of the 
 tree. With infinite difficulty they hauled it in. I 
 joined them in the parlor, and soon we had as stately a 
 tree growing there as was in any home of joy that night 
 in the river counties. 
 
 "With swift fingers did our wives adorn it. I should 
 have said above, that we travelled with our wives, and 
 that I would recommend that custom to others. It was 
 impossible, under the circumstances, to maintain much 
 secrecy ; but it had been agreed that all who wished to 
 turn their backs to the circle, in the preparation of pres- 
 ents, might do so without offence to the others. -As the 
 presents were wrapped, one by one, in paper of different 
 colors, they were marked with the names of giver and 
 receiver, and placed in a large clothes-basket. At last 
 all was done. I had wrapped up my knife, my pencil- 
 case, my letter-case, for Steele, Blatchford, and Dick. 
 To my wife I gave my gold watch-key, which fortu- 
 nately fits her watch ; to Hosanna, a mere trifle, a seal 
 
CHKISTMAS IIS' NARRAGANSETT. 133 
 
 ring I wore ; to Bertha, my gold chain ; and to Sarah 
 Blatohford, the watch which generally hung from it. 
 For a few moments we retired to our rooms while the 
 pretty Hosanna arranged the forty-nine presents on the 
 tree. Then she clapped her hands, and we rushed in. 
 What a wondrous sight ! "What a shout of infantine 
 laughter and cliarming prattle ! for in that happy mo- 
 ment were we not all children again ? 
 
 I see my story hurries to its close. Dick, who is the 
 tallest, mounted a step-ladder, and called us hy name to 
 receive our presents. I had a nice gold watch-key from 
 Hosanna, a knife from Steele, a letter-case from Phebe, 
 and a pretty pencil-case from Bertha. Dick had given 
 me his watch-chain, which he knew I fancied ; Sarah 
 Blatchford, a little toy of a Geneva watch she wore ; 
 and her husband, a handsome seal real, a present to him 
 from the Czar, I believe ; Phebe, that is my wife — for 
 we were travelling with our wives — had a pencil-case 
 from Steele, a pretty little letter-case from Dick, a 
 watch-key from me, and a French repeater from Blatch- 
 ford ; Sarah Blatchford gave her the knife she carried, 
 with some bright verses, saying that it was not to cut 
 love ; Bertha, a watch-chain ; and Hosanna, a ring of 
 turquoise and amethysts. The other presents were 
 similar articles, and were received, as they were given, 
 with much tender feeling. But at this moment, as Dick 
 was on the top of the flight of steps, handing down a red 
 apple from the tree, a slight catastrophe occurred. 
 
 The first I was conscious of was the angry hiss of 
 steam. In a moment 1 perceived that the steam-boiler, 
 from which the tavern was warmed, had exploded. The 
 flcor beneath us rose, and wo were driven with it 
 through the ceiling and the rooms above — through an 
 opening in the roof into the still night. Around us in 
 
134 CHRISTMAS IN NAKEAGANSETT. 
 
 tlie air were flying all the other contents and occupants 
 of the Star and Eagle. How bitterly was I reminded of 
 Dick's flight from the railroad track of the Ithaca and 
 Owego Railroad ! But 1 could not hope such an escape 
 as his. Still my flight was in a parabola ; and, in a 
 period not longer than it has taken to describe it, I was 
 thrown senseless, at last, into a deep snow-bank near the 
 United States Arsenal. 
 
 Tender hands lifted me and assuaged me. Tender 
 teams carried me to the City Hospital. Tender eyes 
 brooded over me.. Tender science cared for me. It 
 proved necessary, before I recovered, to amputate my 
 two legs at the hips. My right arm was wholly re- 
 moved, by a delicate and curious operation, from the 
 socket. We saved the stump of my left arm, which was 
 amputated just below the shoulder. I am still in the 
 hospital to recruit my strength. The doctor does not 
 like to have me occupy my mind at all ; but he says 
 there is no harm in my compiling my memoirs, or writ- 
 ing magazine stories. My faithful nurse has laid me on 
 my breast on a pillow, has put a camel's-hair pencil in 
 my mouth, and, feeling almost personally acquainted 
 with John Carter, the artist, 1 have written out for you, 
 in his method, the story of my last Christmas. 
 
 I am sorry to say that the others have never been 
 found. 
 
 "Observe," 1 said — the reader sees from the begin- 
 ning that this is wild burlesque — " it is a satire on the 
 pretence that people can entertain themselves at Christ- 
 mas by telling stories. It almost confesses that it is an 
 answer to a challenge to furnish stories not three hun- 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAKSETT. ^ 135 
 
 dred words long. All the same, they are '' stories." 
 Each of thera could be padded into a three-volume 
 novel. Our dear friend, Mrs. Oliphant, would pad any 
 one of them out to that length if she were ordered. No 
 one can write more concisely when she chooses. Nay, 1 
 would pad one of them myself, if you would put fifteen 
 months into some passing year." 
 
 " You say you invented the plots," said Mrs. Menet, 
 with some hesitation. " Pardon me— if— well, I do not 
 express myself well — I was going to say — " 
 
 " Let me express it," said Colonel Ingham. "Our 
 friend understands me better. I was going to say that 
 some of them seem to me to have no plots at all. " 
 
 Then they all laughed quietly. 
 
 " And I do not mean to be rude," said Ingham. 
 " There are plots and plots. I doubt if every short story 
 need to have a plot as elaborate as that of Edwin 
 Drood." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Menet, "I did not say anything 
 rude, nor did I mean to. But you are helping me. 
 Will you tell me where and how you begin ? Mr. Hale 
 says he invented eight plots in an hour. What does he 
 mean ?" 
 
 "He means this," said the eager colonel. "When 
 that prince of editors, Mr. Perkins — now, alas ! far from 
 Sybaris, in San Francisco — once had the goodness to ask 
 me to furnish him for his magazine with six ' short 
 stories,' I naturally assented. Under such a chief it is a 
 privilege to serve. 
 
 " ' And what shall be the titles ? ' he said. 
 
 " Well, I gave him one and another title of things I 
 had planned — notions 1 had carried perhaps since I was 
 in college. Pie humored me, and let me talk on ; he 
 wrote the names down as I talked, and, after half an hour 
 
136 CHllISTMAS I3Sr NAEKAGAITSETT. 
 
 of such dreaming, as 1 rose to go, lie said, ' Here are 
 only five stories. Give me tlie title for the sixth.' 
 
 " Well, I had no sixth. 
 
 "I looked at the newspaper before me, where the 
 price current for fish was on the first column. 
 
 " My eye fell on the word Pilchards. 
 
 " I said, ' The sixth is Pilchards.' 
 
 " ^Pilchards let it be,' said Mr. Perkins — and Pil- 
 chards it was. 
 
 " That day 1 did not know what a pilchard was. 
 
 " But of course it was pleasant to learn. 
 
 " 1 found out where the best pilchards are packed. 
 
 " Fortunately for me it is in Cornwall. 
 
 " 1 could cast my story in Cornwall, and I did, 
 
 " ' What is a picturesque time ? ' 1 said. ' Why, 
 Queen Anne's day is a picturesque time. A Queen 
 Anne story will match a Queen Anne sideboard or stair- 
 case.' 
 
 " So we cast the story in Queen Anne's day. 
 
 "We put in a pretty girl in Cornwall, and a fine 
 young man in London, the friend of Addison and 
 Steele. 
 
 " We sent a box of pilchards from Cornwall to Lon- 
 don. We sent the young man from London to Corn- 
 wall. 
 
 " There is your story. Voild tout. But no plot, as 
 you observe. And I do not see that any plot is neces- 
 sary. " 
 
 "Not necessary, if you please," said Haliburton, 
 " but desirable. If Mr. Perkins had not obliged him- 
 self to take six stories from you, possibly he would only 
 have printed five." 
 
 " I wish 1 knew," said the colonel, pensively. " Paul, 
 go bring me the book ;" and the colonel sent for the vol- 
 
CHRISTMAS IN- NARRAGANSETT. 137 
 
 Time, and did his best to give expression to the storj as 
 he read it albud. 
 
 PILCHARDS— A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 The little fishing-village which has grown up tinder 
 the lee of Mount Saint Michael rouses to its most intense 
 life when it pleases the dog-fish that the pilchards shall 
 enter the bay. "Whether the pilchards move in a certain 
 fixed line of travel, which the dog-fish have discovered 
 and follow, I do not know ; or whether, on the other 
 hand, the pilchards would stay in some blessed spot, un- 
 provoked by fishermen, undried and unsalted, blushing 
 unseen, indeed, and hidden in remote caves of ocean, 
 were there no dog-fish — this I know not. What 1 know 
 is this : that, to the blessing of fishermen on the Cornish 
 coast, shoals of pilchards, uncounted and uncountable, 
 appear of a sudden, their silvery fins just flashing above 
 the water in places, in token of wealth to which no 
 sunken argosy of Spanish plate compares. I know that 
 the dog-fish, v/ho is a sort of shark, follows them, appar- 
 ently to and for their destruction. "When they appear, 
 the Cornish fishermen, with their long seines, all ready 
 for their arrival, put out into the bay, and haul in untold 
 thousands, the food for half England, and the wealth of 
 half Cornwall. And, if they did not come thus, this 
 story would never have happened, nor would it ever 
 have been written. 
 
 For in a haul of pilchards which is, perhaps, still 
 memorable in the traditions of M.ount Saint Michael, so 
 enormous was the yield that it gave, it happened that 
 Mark Trevor, as honest and bold a fisherman as ever 
 rowed his boat out of the Bay of Saint Michael, as he 
 stood up to hail the next boat, and direct the lay of the 
 
138 CHKISTMAS IN- NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 heavy seine, stumbled, or had a fit — no man knew or 
 knows— fell heavily over the gunwale, and must have 
 been entangled in the seine. The other boatmen saw 
 hira fall ; and, thougli they risked the whole catch, long 
 John Trevor, and Tregail, the lame man, and young 
 Trelawney pulled to the rescue at once ; and, as soon as 
 that length of the seine could be parted from the next 
 length, it was parted, and with the whole force of the 
 three boats they hauled it in. But it was too late, and 
 they brought poor Mark Trevor's body home stark and 
 dead. He would never draw seine again. 
 
 Everybody liked Mark Trevor, and everybody loved 
 his little daughter Peg. She was, before this, the pet 
 of the village ; and because she had no . mother she 
 was made to feel that every woman along the shore 
 loved her as her own, and that she was a pet in every 
 hut of them all. And so it happened, that, after a 
 funeral service of more solemnity than these rough chil- 
 dren of ogres and of giant-killers were wont to lavish on 
 the dead, it was somehow agreed that Peg should be 
 owned as a sort of child of the regiment ; that she should 
 be cared for as well as the very best of them ; and it 
 came to be a custom that, at the end of every drawing 
 of the long seines, every man, according to the success 
 of the draught of fishes, should bring twenty, or fifty, or 
 even a hundred, of the best of the pilchards which fell 
 to liis share, to whichever hut had the charge of their pet 
 child. Peg Trevor ; and these were called ' ' Peg's catch. " 
 The fishing lasts on the Cornish shore from July to Octo- 
 ber. The Cornishmen say that, though the pilchard is 
 the smallest of fish, ho feeds the most of men. This is 
 sure, that at Peg's home, before she knew what the 
 value of the free-will offering was, the very best of the 
 catch of Saint Michael's Bay always came together by a 
 
CHRISTMAS IX NAKRAGAKSETT. 139 
 
 fine law of selection. Before Peg was twenty years old, 
 the superstition of these Cornishnien led them all to be- 
 lieve that the man who put one mean pilchard into Peg' a 
 catch would bring bad luck on himself for the next 
 seven years. And Peg's share, being the best of catch 
 of the year by this law of the selection of love, made 
 Peg an independent little woman in her way ; all the 
 more so when Peg herself grew big enough to take over- 
 sight and watch of her catch. 
 
 Besides the good-will of his neighbors, Mark Trevor 
 had had but little to leave to the orphan-girl except good 
 blood, and good friends, his pretty hut, his boat, and his 
 length of seine. On his little finger, the day his body was 
 brought home dead, was an old-fashioned ring, which, 
 on his wedding-day, he had given to his wife. It was 
 not her wedding-ring ; but she wore it above her wed- 
 ding-ring, as a guard, after a fashion of those days — a 
 queer, old-fashioned ring, with a great garnet in the 
 middle ; and round this ring this pilchard story grows. 
 The ring was preciously saved among Peg's belongings ; 
 and as the girl grew up, and knew it was her mother's 
 ring, she was fond of looking at it, and at last took to 
 wearing it herself, when she became a woman ; not, for 
 fairness' sake be it said, from any love of finery, but be- 
 cause they said there was a spell in garnets. " Anywise 
 there would be luck in what her mother wore ;" and so 
 for "luck she would wear it." So said the merry, 
 good- hearted, fearless girl. 
 
 And when, one day, after a hard day's work, the ring 
 was lost, and nobody reYnembered to have seen the ring 
 since breakfast, poor Peg was a little dashed. She went 
 to bed crying, indeed. But the next morning all was 
 right again. She said so, and I believe it was so. " jSTo 
 need to make salt when your boat's at sea," said she. 
 
140 CHEISTMAS IN NAEKAGANSETT. 
 
 " No need to cry for an addled egg,' ' said she. " If the 
 hand :s clean, the ring makes it no cleaner," said she. 
 For Peg had a world of Cornish proverbs, which she 
 could bring to bear on her side of whatever argument, 
 and her side was always the cheery and jolly and hopeful 
 and brave side ; for the girl was as hearty as her father 
 was before her, and she made the best therefore of what 
 was to her indeed a very happy world. 
 
 If the reader really cares to know what became of this 
 ring, it will be easy enough to tell him. It M^ould not 
 be hard to tell him its history from that day to this day, 
 nor whose finger the garnet is on at this moment, unless, 
 indeed, it have just now gone to Starr & Mortimer's, or 
 to Mr. Euby's, or to Guild's, to be set anew. The ring 
 turned up in Anthony Skene's chambers in the New Inn 
 in London. 
 
 Anthony Skene had been at work all that winter day 
 in the most important cause that had ever been confided 
 to him. Something hud turned the attention of one of 
 the great lords of the law to this young fellow, as he sat 
 on the back seat among the young lawyers, with a very 
 fresh wig and a very fresh gown ; and this something had 
 made the great lord direct the man of all work in this 
 very important matter of A in appeal vs. Z to call in 
 Master Anthony Skene when the great lord had been 
 told that they should need more force before that work 
 was done. No, I am not going to tell you the story of 
 the great case of Avs.Z; that is a trick of the novel- 
 ists ; I am only going to tell what happened to Anthony 
 Skene when he came home to his chambers after that 
 great day of work, when, first of all, he had been intro- 
 duced to the great lord of the law, and then had gone to 
 work as bidden, all day long, well into the evening, 
 
CHKISTMAS I2Sr NAKEAGANSETT. 141 
 
 examining witnesses in advance, and seeing what they 
 could say, and what they would say, from what they 
 would be frightened, and on what points they would be 
 sure. Anthony Skene came home to his chambers not 
 displeased with himself. But never had his chambers 
 seemed so forlorn. They were warm. Mrs. Godkin 
 had the fire all right. Nay, they were light. She was 
 bidden to light the candles at seven ; and she had lighted 
 them. But they were so lonely ! Anthony Skene 
 thought of the pleasant home in Hampshire, and of his 
 mother and father, of his sister Hetty, and of the boys. 
 He kicked off his boots, and he put on his slippers ; and 
 he felt as if he would like to cut his throat, he was so 
 lonely. The tea-kettle was simmering on the hob, as 
 Mrs. Godkin had left it, and as it was always left at 
 seven o'clock. But the mere comparison of the loneli- 
 ness and cheerlessness of the place with the home-feeling 
 of the Hampshire hob, where his mother's teakettle was 
 simmering, made Anthony Skene more wretched ; and, 
 as he looked at the tea-kettle, he swore a sorry oath. 
 On a table at one side were muffins, and a tea-canister, a 
 cup, saucer, and spoon, with a few lumps of sugar, a bit 
 of butter, and a bit of cheese. And as Anthony Skene 
 remembered the good cheer at his father's house, and 
 who there were at that moment round his father's table, 
 and how surely they were talking of him, he swore an- 
 other sorry oath, because he was so lonely. The cham- 
 bers were good enough chambers ; but poor Anthony 
 Skene felt more forlorn than ever. 
 
 None the less did he make his cup of tea, and set the 
 saucer upon it, after tlie fashion of those days. And he 
 toasted a muffin, and buttered it ; but still the bachelor 
 meal seemed to him, nay, was, very forlorn. And so it 
 was that he said to himself that he would open the box 
 
143 CHEISTJSIAS IS NAllRAGANSETT. 
 
 of pilchards which his client, John Holt, had sent him 
 with his last retaining-fea. Pilchards were usually 
 packed in hogsheads ; but sometimes a man iri^ business 
 knew where to find a choice " lot" put up with much 
 more care in a long box, just as wide as the pilejjards 
 were long, much, indeed, as the reader may see herri'pg's 
 packed to-day. And such a box had the faithfuX^nd 
 admiring John Holt sent to his faithful counsellor, 
 Anthony Skene. 
 
 Anthony Skene took down from its nail a little 
 hatchet, with which, with his own hands, he split the 
 wood that kindled his coal. He opened the box, and 
 picked out two pilchards, that he might toast them also 
 over the fire. As he lifted them from the box, some- 
 thing sparlded and fell. He found it on the floor. It 
 was a garnet ring. The reader, of course, sees that it 
 was Peg Trevor's garnet ring. 
 
 Anthony Skene warmed the pilchards, toasted them 
 through. One of them took fire, but was extinguished 
 easily ; and, though a little smoked, it added to the 
 cheer of the simple meal. Anthony Skene made him- 
 self another cup of tea. He set aside the tray for Mrs. 
 Godkin to make all clean in the morning, and then 
 found for himself a bottle of choice old port, still half 
 full. He brought this out, with a daintily-cut glass, one 
 of six, which had been his father's gift to him. He 
 drew up a second chair for his feet ; he lighted his pipe ; 
 he blew curls of smoke into the air, and watched them 
 as they twisted, expanded, and broke. He swore no 
 more sorry oaths. No ; he was more cheerful, because 
 he was more comfortable. But all the time he played 
 with the garnet ring. And he fancied fancies, and he 
 dreamed dreams, that found their centre in the garnet 
 ring. And so, when the pipe was out, and when two 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSBTT. 143 
 
 glasses were out of the bottle, and he corked it reso- 
 lutely, and set it back in the cupboard, Anthony Skene 
 said aloud, " 1 will ask the woman that wore that ring 
 to marry me ; and if she says ' Yes,' I will never live in 
 
 these chambers more." 1 am sorry to say that, as 
 
 he spoke of the chambers, he denounced them by a word 
 which gentlemen use no longer. 
 
 Anthony Skene was a good lawyer, a high-toned gen- 
 tleman, a rising man too, as the men of Queen Anne's 
 court said ; but he was an impulsive fellow ; and, when 
 he took the bit between his teeth, it was no common 
 curb that hindered him, until some other fancy crossed 
 his way. 
 
 This is what happened to the ring. But what I am to 
 tell is what happened to Anthony Skene. Not in that 
 celebrated case of A in error vs. Z ; for that you may 
 look in the Reports of the IX., X., and XI. Annse Eeg. 
 Middl. Is it not all written there ? Long before A and 
 Z had settled, or had been settled, the leading events 
 happened to Anthony Skene, which are now to be writ- 
 ten down. 
 
 The summer term of X year was well over, and An- 
 thony Skene, like all other men in chambers, had earned 
 his long vacation. He told Mrs. Godkin that he should 
 not be back for six weeks. He packed his little round 
 horseman's valise, after the fashion of that time. Into a 
 leather belt, after another fashion of the time, he put 
 thirty of Queen Anne's guineas ; and, in the most secret 
 compartment of this belt, he placed a little vellum 
 packet, in the heart of which was the garnet ring. Thus 
 equipped, he rode to his father's house in Hampshire ; 
 and there, with his father and mother, with all the 
 brother and sister Skenes as well, and with all the pretty 
 
144 CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGAlirSETT. 
 
 neighbors, and all tlie gay young men of liis earlier life, 
 he made holiday for the rest of that week. There was a 
 pretty Lucy Savage there, who was the very nearest 
 friend of Sarah Skene ; and Sarah Skene certainly had 
 schemes which involved Lncy Savage and Anthony 
 both. And Anthony certainly did flirt a little with 
 Lucy Savage, to whom, indeed, he had brought a copy 
 of Mr. Gay's last volume from town. But this is the 
 way with young people, and must be excused even with 
 barristers in chambers, though they carry hidden garnet 
 rings. 
 
 AVhen the Monday came, in spite of all solicitation to 
 the contrary, Anthony Skene tore himself away. There 
 was rather a tender scene at old Savage's on Sunday 
 evening, when young Mr. Skene made his good-bys 
 there. And his old father could not understand why he 
 must leave so soon. But leave he did. " Business in 
 the West," he said, as he had said when he arrived. And 
 the girls thought it so grand that their brother should 
 have important business which could not be spoken of, 
 and must hardly be alluded to, that they were almost com- 
 pensated for losing their brother by that mystery. His 
 father would not hear to his going off on the horse he 
 had bought in London, but mounted him on the best 
 roadster in his own stable ; and so Master Anthony de- 
 parted, after a tearful breakfast, on the ' ' important busi- 
 ness." This business was, as it may be hoped the reader 
 has guessed, to learn what was the history of the garnet 
 ring. For this purpose Anthony had armed himself 
 with letters from great London fish-mongers, to all par- 
 ties of consequence in their line in Cornwall. And he 
 had, hidden away in the round portmanteau, the painted 
 end of the box of pilchards, which he had opened in his 
 chambers on that fatal evening. 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAERAGAKSEXT. 145 
 
 The journey was not without adventure ; but the ad- 
 ventures shall not be here described. Anthony was a 
 bit of a politician ; and he was not sorry to see the points 
 which were then famous to liberal-minded Englishmen 
 lovers of the " glorious memory," from their connection 
 with the landings of William and of Monmouth. But 
 he wasted no time in studying history. He jogged on 
 and on, after the fashion of those days, and dreamed, as 
 after the fashion of all days, on what manner of finger 
 it might be that this quaint ring now so near his heart 
 had rested on, and what manner of woman she might be 
 to whom that little finger belonged, and what manner of 
 home it might be which he was going to ask her to 
 leave, and what manner of nest that might be to which 
 he should ask her to come. For Anthony Skene was as 
 young as you and I are (though all this was a hundred 
 and seventy years ago), and could dream with the 
 dreamiest of us all. And yet, all of a sudden, the dream 
 broke short, very short. Anthony had still near three 
 days' journey before him, for he had not yet entered 
 Cornwall, and was just crossing a little bridge, which 
 may, I believe, still bo seen in Tavistock, when the 
 noble horse he rode started as if he had been shot, whin- 
 nied as if in agony, tried to run, but run in a halting 
 gait, which Anthony did not understand, and then 
 stopped short in answer to his master's direction, and 
 'stood stock still, only trembling and snorting still, as if 
 in pain. Anthony dismounted in an instant, and in an 
 instant more found the cause of soitow. In a bit of 
 woodwork on the bridge a vicious nail had turned up- 
 ward, which the poor creature's foot had struck ; the 
 iron had pierced into the quick, and blood was already 
 flowing from the wound. Anthony was farrier enough 
 to withdraw the nail in a moment ; but the poor horse, 
 
146 CHKISTIIAS m NARRAGAIfSETT. 
 
 who showed gratitude in a dozen pretty signs, was 
 wretchedly lame. 
 
 Anthony led him back to the snug little inn which he 
 had left but five minutes before, and held converse with 
 the landlord. The man had a gray roadster whom he 
 was fain to let Anthony take, for the rest of the journey. 
 But after Anthony had looked at this beast he deter- 
 mined that he had rather go on to Cornwall, and hnnt 
 Tip the lady of his dreams on foot, than ride on such a 
 jade. After he had declined the horse, and not till then, 
 his host told him that John Twitchell, a very decent 
 Cornishman, who had been a carrier on the London 
 road for many years, would pass the house the next 
 morning on his way to Plymouth ; that John's cart was 
 a light covered cart on springs, with a good span of 
 horses ; that behind John's seat was a shaded seat, 
 M'here he was always glad to take up decent people ; and 
 that, in short, Master Skene could go forward thus to 
 Plymouth, if he chose. And, as he did choose, so it 
 was ordered. 
 
 What was not explained to Anthony was of much 
 more importance than what was explained. As he sat 
 the next day in the common room of the inn waiting for 
 John Twitchell, after his breakfast, a gay party of young 
 people came riding down to the inn, one of whom, a 
 gray-eyed, brown-haired, cherry-cheeked girl of twenty, 
 was to be, as it proved, Anthony Skene's companion in 
 John Twitchell's taxed cart. " Taxed cart" we should 
 call it, had this been after the days of "William Pitt. 
 And this merry, laughing party had come down from 
 the squire's to bid the pretty girl good-by. It was clear 
 enough that the adventure of the day's journey was a 
 frolic to each and all of them. There was much sym- 
 pathy on the part of the hosts M'hora she was leaving. 
 
CHRISTMAS IST NAKRAGASSETT. 147 
 
 and a thousand regrets and expressions of mortification 
 that they should send her off so inhospitably. On the 
 other hand, there was much joking, on her part, of her 
 power over John Twitohell, and his devotion to her. 
 She pretended she had rather ride in his cart than in the 
 carriage of any lady of the land ; and as for going to 
 Plymouth on horseback, when she could go under the 
 shelter of the canvas of her friend John, it would have 
 been absurd. Altogether the whole party mystified Mr. 
 Anthony Skene in his retirement not a little ; nor did 
 one of them all pay him the compliment of looking on 
 him with a look, far less of speaking to him with a 
 word. None the less did he see — -0 Luoy Savage ! 
 O garnet ring ! — that the little woman who was the 
 pet of all this admiration and tenderness was the loveliest 
 creature he had ever set his eyes upon. 
 
 John Twitchell came ; and, fortunately for all con- 
 cerned, John Twitchell had no passengers. The un- 
 known beauty recognized John good-naturedly, and he 
 recognized her with devotion. Every possible care was 
 lavished on the little lady's box and her several dainty 
 parcels. John Twitchell put something under her feet, 
 and something else behind her back ; and it was only at 
 the last moment that the least attention was paid to Mr. 
 Anthony Skene of the JSTew Inn, who was waiting to 
 take passage also. Then he was hurried in ; and, as he 
 blessed his stars for such fair companionship, they started 
 on their way. 
 
 The journey to Plymouth is but twenty-two miles ; 
 and with John Twitchell 's horses, even with all the de- 
 lays of John Twitchell' s duties and position, they were 
 sure to arrive before three in the afternoon. Mr. Skene 
 was far too well bred to obtrude himself on the young 
 gentlewoman — if she were a gentlewoman — whom kind 
 
148 CHKISTilAS IX NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 fate had placed so near him. He began, very carefullj, 
 with John Twitchell, and made himself as agreeable 
 ■with him as he knew how. He talked to the lady — if 
 she were a lady — through John Twitchell, so to speak ; 
 and watched all the time for one attention or another, 
 which he might show to her, which might not be obtru- 
 sive, but such as a gentleman might offer without offence 
 to the noblest lady of the land. Fortunately for him in 
 this business, Anthony Skene was a gentleman. In the 
 nobler and larger use of the word, J ohn Twitchell was 
 another ; and he would have wrung Master Skene's neck 
 for him, had he by sign or word offended the pretty 
 young lady who sat behind the carter. So she was quite 
 safe from any possible annoyance, even to her timidity ; 
 and so, of course, it happened that, before an hour was 
 past, they were all three on excellent terms, and the 
 barriei's between their stations and hers were all com- 
 fortably broken down. 
 
 Any question as to the young lady's name was so far 
 solved as this, that John Twitchell called her " Miss 
 "Waring;" and it appeared that she was going to her 
 aunt, Mrs. Waring, in Plymouth. It was while John 
 watered his horses at a wayside trough, and while Mr. 
 Skene and Miss "Waring walked on up the long hill 
 together, that the talk of the two young people first be- 
 came brisk and animated. But the day was too lovely, 
 and they too cheerful, for it to be stiff very long ; and 
 they really chatted as if they had been old friends. 
 
 " Oh, no !" said she, laughing. " It frightens me to 
 think of going to London. PlymoutJi here is quite 
 wonderful enough for a country lass like me." He had 
 asked her if she had ever seen London. 
 
 " Is not Plymouth your home, then ?" 
 
 " Yes and no," said she. Was she playing with him 
 
CHBISTMAS IK KAKRAGANSETT. 149 
 
 the least bit in tlie -world ? and was she determined that 
 he should tell her everything about himself, while he 
 learned nothing about her? "I am so much at home 
 with my dear old aunt, whom I am going to, that it 
 would be wicked to say that Plymouth was not home. 
 That is one answer. But Plymouth is a great city, for 
 all that ; and I am only a country girl. ' ' 
 
 He longed to ask what her aunt's name was, and to 
 find out what her station was ; but he did not dare. He 
 did say, " Is the life in Plymouth gay ?" 
 
 " Gay ? Gay to gay people, I dare say. It is very nice 
 life to me. But I only see the gay people when I go to 
 church, and see them as they stream in there." And 
 here she burst into uncontrollable laughter ; but she 
 said, ' ' I was going to tell you how badly I behaved to 
 some of Aunt Susan's gay friends ; but it will not do to 
 tell you that story. Yet, no. I dare say a young gen- 
 tleman like you will find Plymouth gay. My life is very 
 quiet there." 
 
 ' ' Then you have some time to read. I should like to 
 lend you the last Spectators.'" 
 
 She looked round really gratefully. " "Would you in- 
 deed, just for a day ? That is very kind. My aunt has 
 a good many ; oh, she has twenty ! But she has not 
 had one for two, no for three months ;" and so they fell 
 to talking of the Spectator. 
 
 Anthony Skene was in no sort a snob ; but when he 
 said that he knew by sight all the gentlemen who wrote 
 in the Spectator, that he had shaken hands with Mr. 
 Steele, and had dined with Lord Fairfax, and described 
 very pleasantly Fairfax's talk about the paper which was 
 then the town talk, he recommended himself very de- 
 cidedly to his pretty friend, and she was much more dis- 
 posed to lead him on to tell of the town and of its won- 
 
150 CHRISTMAS IX NAEKAGAXSETT. 
 
 ders. They were very good friends indeed when John 
 Twitchell overtook them, and took them under cover 
 once again. 
 
 Arrived at Plymouth, Mr. Skene's curiosity was satis- 
 fied ; for John Twitchell, before he delivered a box or a 
 parcel, had driven round into Queen Street, and left his 
 pretty charge at the door of Mistress Waring. Now, 
 Mistress Waring proved to be the mistress of a well-to-do 
 shop on a principal street of Plymouth — a shop which, 
 though they had no plate windows in those days, and 
 though there was no sign of any sort, contained almost 
 everything which the neighborhood, rather than the 
 people, of Plymouth, might be supposed to want. Mrs. 
 Waring, and a stout apprentice, and a frightened ser- 
 vant attended the shop, which was parted from the 
 street by a half door. The good Avoman welcomed her 
 niece with the undisguised admiration with which every 
 one welcomed her, stepping plumply in front of poor 
 Anthony, who had hoped for the pleasure of giving his 
 hand to the young lady as she stepped from the carriage, 
 or, perhaps, even lifting her from its heights. MrsL 
 Waring left him to himself, took the girl in both her 
 hands, and tenderly lifted her to the step of the shop, 
 kissed her on both cheeks, and loudly expressed her joy. 
 Her niece kissed her in return, turned to bid John 
 Twitchell good-by, gave her hand frankly to Mr. Skene, 
 and said to her aunt, " This gentleman has been very 
 kind to me." 
 
 Mrs. Waring looked up amazed, unconscious of his 
 existence till now, and asked the puzzling question, 
 " What is his name, my dear ?" 
 
 But alas ! no one could introdace Anthony ; and he 
 was fain to say himself that he was Mr. Skene ; and 
 added, with a Londoner's pride, " from London." The 
 
CHRISTMAS IS KARRAGAKSETT. 151 
 
 words did not help him with Mrs. Waring. She thanked 
 him for his courtesy to her charge with some state, and 
 then hustled that young lady, her box and parcels, into 
 the shop ; and Mr. Anthony was left to remount the 
 carrier's wagon alone. 
 
 It must be confessed that the hours between eight and 
 three had proved enough to cure him of any immediate 
 determination to press his journey into Cornwall. The 
 garnet ring was of much less consequence to him since 
 lie had had these hours of pleasant, unaffected talk with 
 this pleasant, unaffected girl. Mr. Skene ordered his 
 dinner and ate it, looked out his roll of new Spectators, 
 put them in a neat parcel, and directed them in his best, 
 to " Miss Waring, with the respects of A. Skene," and 
 then, having planned out his campaign for that day and 
 for the next day, started to make the best use he might 
 of what was left of the afternoon and evening. Nor 
 was he so unsuccessful. He had bidden John Twitchell 
 take him to the inn where the judge and bar made their 
 home, and, among the counsel who rode that circuit, he 
 had found one or two acquaintances. A young London 
 lawyer of as good reputation as he had no difficulty in 
 obtaining an introduction, even to the judge ; and so 
 Anthony Skene, having doffed his travelling gear, and 
 donned such walking gear as the portmanteau furnished, 
 started on his mission with his base well secured. He 
 Avas a little amused himself, and a little annoyed, to find 
 himself going to make court to a Plymouth shopkeeper. 
 But he did not flinch for that. And he knew very well 
 that, if he was to see the young lady again, he must 
 make himself agreeable to the old one. He was not the 
 first nor the last young man who has found himself in 
 the same position. 
 
 He walked modestly into the shop, and asked the 
 
152 CHRISTMAS !!?■ NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 stupid apprentice to show liim some silk handkerchiefs, 
 examined with care those that appeared, praised the 
 quality of the best, and laid two or three one side. 
 Then he asked for the best riding-gloves ; and by this 
 time Mrs. AVaring, who had scented the customer from 
 afar, could not resist, and herself interposed, sending 
 Sam to duty for which he was more fitted. 
 
 "Limerick? Yes, sir; those I know are Limerick. 
 But we call these as good ; they are sewed to my own 
 order. ' ' 
 
 " Indeed they are, indeed they are," said the skilful 
 Anthony. " I cannot buy such in London. The mer- 
 cers will cheat me there. Only three shillings you 
 say ; let me have four pair, Mrs. Waring." 
 
 Mrs. "Waring was well-nigh captured then ; and with 
 a few more skilful purchases, and a few even more skil- 
 ful compliments, Martin Anthony had made of her a 
 slave. Should she not send the parcel home for him ? 
 
 " Yes, no, yes." She might send them to the Three 
 Bells. Was the Three Bells the best house ? He had 
 gone there because the rest of the bar were there, and 
 his lordship. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir, it is ! Well, the Crown is a good 
 liouse. The bishop sometimes stays at the Crown ; but, 
 as the bar and the judges always do go to the Three 
 Bells, of course a gentleman is more at ease with his 
 friends. ' ' Had he been at this circuit before ? 
 
 No, Mr. Skene had never been on this circuit before ; 
 was not going to join the circuit now, but had some 
 business that would keep him in Plymouth a few days. 
 Could Mrs. Waring name to him a good shoemaker ? 
 Of course she could ; and so on, and so on, and so on, 
 until, when, at the end of fifteen minutes, Mr. Skene 
 said he had a few new Spectators which Mrs. Waring 
 
CHRISTMAS Iiq' STAERAGANSETT. 153 
 
 had not seen perhaps, and which he had promised to 
 bring to her niece, that lady, without the least hesita- 
 tion, begged him to come into her own parlor, and with- 
 out the least hesitation called the pretty traveller down- 
 stairs. She was surprised and was pleased to see her 
 companion so soon, gave him her hand cordially, and 
 said so, and thanked him most heartily for the new 
 Spectators. And so they fell to talking just in the 
 easiest way in the world ; and Anthony told to Mrs. 
 Waring his little stories of Mr. Addison and Mr. Dick 
 Steele and Lord Fairfax. And then he told other 
 stories about Dr. Sacheverell and my Lord Marlborough ; 
 and, finding Mrs. Waring had ecclesiastical interests, was 
 glad to tell an anecdote or two of Archbishop Tillotson, 
 and, in short, made himself very agreeable. It was with 
 very little fuss that Mrs. Waring got the frightened 
 Mary to put a third plate, a third tea-cup, and a third 
 saucer on the little table ; so that with perfect ease, when 
 the kettle boiled, and was brought in hissing, the good 
 woman could ask Mr. Skene, whom she always called 
 "Mr. Skee," if he would not join them at tea. Ah 
 me ! little need to press Mr. Anthony. And as they 
 draw up to the table, and as Mrs. "Waring opens the little 
 tea-canister, which happens to be the very twin of his in 
 the dismal chambers at New Inn, how readily does Mr. 
 Anthony's thought, in this new-born comfort, go back 
 to think of the dismalnesses of those chambers ! Woe's 
 me ! does he think as well of the garnet ring and the 
 dream that led him so far ? 1 think not. I am afraid 
 there is the least reflection, that if poor Hengist, the 
 roan horse, must go lame, he was glad he had gone lame 
 at Tavistock. Where would Master Anthony be just 
 now but for that unfortunate nail ? 
 
 Well, it was well-nigh ten o'clock before he had told 
 
154 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 all his stories, and had listened to Mrs. "Waring's, his fair 
 companion not displeased at the good sense which that 
 lady showed as she took her part in the conversation, but 
 for herself not speaking so much or so often as Master 
 Anthony might have desired. At ten he withdrew, but 
 had skilfully engaged the ladies to go witli him to the 
 assizes to-morrow, that he might find for them a good 
 place, where they might see the trial of Black Will and. 
 the Dartmoor bruiser, two notorious highwaymen, who 
 had even attacked Lord Penrhyn in his carriage, and 
 were now likely to hang for it. Anthony had learned 
 that Lady Penrhyn and the bishop's wife were to be at 
 the trial, and both his hostesses were pleased indeed to 
 be invited to assist at it in such good company. And to 
 the trial they went together. 
 
 And so on, and so on, and so on. The young lady's 
 visit to Plymouth lasted a fortnight, and the young 
 man's business detained him in Plymouth a fortnight 
 too. Every morning he would keep up the pretence of 
 occupation, by going to the docks, and by spending an 
 hour in listening to the trials as they went on ; but 
 every day, once at least, and oftener more than once, he 
 would present himself at the Widow Waring's to fulfil 
 some appointment which had been made the day before. 
 Not that they went every day to see highwaymen 
 i arraigned. But there were the blessed Sundays, of 
 course Mr. Skene must go to church ; there was an ex- 
 cursion to Fleet House ; there was a sail in the bay ; ah ! 
 there is always enough to do where there is a lovely 
 girl, and a wide-awake young man, and a duenna aunt 
 not unwilling. 
 
 No, this story is not to tell what he said to her, or she 
 said to him, as that fortnight sped. This story, as you 
 
CHEISTMAS IIT NAUEAGANSETT. 155 
 
 know, is all about pilchards. For, indeed, do the 
 family notes in my hand tell what they said to each 
 other, day after day, after the highwaymen were well 
 arraigned. Fill out the blanks for yourselves, dear 
 young friends who have followed the story so far ; for 
 me, all I can tell or will tell is what happened when the 
 last day of the fortnight came. 
 
 Anthony Skene was well persuaded, long before this 
 time, that the quest for the lady of the ring was like a 
 quest of the Round Table knights — the shadow of a 
 dream. He had found here the queen of that ideal home 
 of his, if only she would reign there ; and, if not, never 
 should any queen sit on that vacant throne. The spirit 
 and balance and cheeriness of this lovely girl were some- 
 thing wholly new to Anthony, certainly something which 
 he had never seen among the finical girls in London, 
 who let him take them to the play-house sometimes, nor 
 among the Hampshire girls, who came and went with 
 his sisters, who could only flirt, but who had so little to 
 say. Poor Lucy Savage, she was not well treated I In 
 truth, his new flame had had an independent sort of life, 
 and, with one and another of these relatives in this out- 
 of-the-way corner of England, had been thrown in with 
 books, with chances to read them, and advisers who put 
 her up to reading them ; which books to this hour are 
 the best reading for a hearty girl or for a manly boy. 
 Thus she knew Comus by heart, and half the rest of 
 Milton. She would sing you Shakespeare's songs, and 
 Ben Jonson's and Herrick's, in a simple way that made 
 the tears run down your cheeks. She believed in Sir 
 Boger de Ooverley more than she did in the Rev. Mr. 
 Gribe the parson ; and she had a straightforward way of 
 telling you what she believed, and what she did not be- 
 lieve, such as none of Anthony's other flames had ever 
 
156 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 had. And Anthony was man enough to see and know 
 and feel and understand that here was such a woman as 
 he had never seen before, nor would be likely to see 
 again. Whether she had for him any share, even the 
 slightest, of the overmastering passion which he had for 
 her, he did not know ; but he knew he could find out, 
 and, like a brave man as he was, he knew no time was 
 hke this time. How he could get at her, or if he could 
 get at her, in this home to which she was returning, he 
 did not know. He could come at her here. 
 
 So Sunday afternoon, her last day in Plymouth, as 
 they walked home from church together, decorously fol- 
 lowing Mrs. Waring, as she walked before with her 
 neighbor, Mr. Willard, the calender, Anthony Skene 
 told his pretty companion that he loved her better than 
 he loved himself, and asked her to be his wife. 
 
 The girl did not start ; but she did not speak. She 
 tried to speak once ; she tried to speak again ; and it 
 was only when he urged her to say something, that she 
 found life and nerve to say : 
 
 " Mr. Skene, you do not know what you are saying. 
 To begin with, you do not know whom you are talking to. " 
 
 " I know I am talking to the loveliest woman in Eng- 
 land, the only woman I ever loved, or ever shall love ; 
 and that it is she I beg to marry me." 
 
 " You are talking to a fisherman's daughter — you who 
 are a gentleman's son." 
 
 " If I were talking to Simon Peter's daughter," said 
 Anthony, ingeniously, " I could only say what I have 
 said — that my hfe is yours to make it what you will ; 
 my home is your home, though for years it must be a 
 poor one ; my heart is your heart, and I know that it is 
 an honest one. Dear Mistress Margaret, do not throw 
 that away." 
 
CHEISTJIAS IK KAEEAGAXSETT. 157 
 
 '' Mr. Skene," said the girl, now pale with emotion, 
 but still keeping boldly on in the way, without faltering 
 in her step, "you do not know that this fisherman's 
 daughter works herself for her daily bread. This hand 
 you ask for will be on Thursday morning sorting out the 
 large fish from the smaller ones, and laying them in 
 boxes for the market. ' ' 
 
 The inspiration of love, or the inspiration of genius, 
 lighted on Anthony ; are they not both the same ? He 
 boldly took the little hand which she held up to him, 
 and slipped on it the garnet ring, and said, " And that 
 is the ring which I would place on it, if you will lot me." 
 
 Lucky for Meg Trevor that they were in the Curl 
 Alley, which crosses from the High Street into Queen's 
 Street, and that no one could see her. She started this 
 time, and trembled so that she really needed Skene's arm 
 that she might stand. She looked on the ring and on 
 him, with wonder and through tears. 
 
 "It is my mother's ring ; I lost it this day twelve- 
 month." 
 
 " It is your ring," said he, reverently. " I found it 
 this day six month." And he told her where he found 
 it, how he found it, and he told her the vow he made 
 when he found it, and how far on his journey to Corn- 
 wall the vow had brought him. 
 
 " And then — and then yon abandoned your heart's 
 love, you abandoned the lady of the ring, because you 
 met a little girl in a cart one day ! Oh, Anthony Skene, 
 I am ashamed of you !" For the girl was in the reaction 
 now, and could laugh. But Anthony could not laugh ; 
 he was graver than ever. 
 
 " No, dearest ; but because it was written in the 
 heaven above that I should love you, and you only, with 
 all my mind and heart and soul and strength. ' ' 
 
158 CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGAIfSETT. 
 
 And tlio langli was over on her lips, and she was very 
 pale. And her hand fell back in his hand ; and her eye 
 struggled up and met his eye, and the whole was told ; 
 and his lip met her lip, and the garnet ring never left 
 her finger again. 
 
 They turned back into High Street, and they walked 
 back past the church again, and out into the fields. 
 Yes, the sun was setting when they came into the Widow 
 "Waring's house ; and Anthony Skene asked her bless- 
 ing, which blessing she gave. 
 
 Margaret Waring Trevor started for Saint Michael's 
 Bay on the Monday, as she had said she would ; and on 
 the Thursday, just as she had done for many years, with 
 her own hands she sorted out the number one pilchards 
 of " Peg's catch" from the number twos, and with her 
 own hands arranged them in the neat boxes which her 
 own wit had contrived, and her own forethought ordered 
 — boxes which already had the name of containing the 
 very best cured pilchards of the very best catch of the 
 season. On the Friday a young London lawyer appeared 
 at Michael's Bay, inquiring about the catch, and where 
 a man could buy pilchards best ; and on the Friday 
 afternoon he was making a visit in Peg Trevor's pretty 
 little cottage, to the amazement of old Goody Tremaine, 
 who took care of it and Peg together. Bxit that year 
 was the last year that Peg ever packed pilchards with her 
 own hand. 
 
 This is the story of the garnet ring, so far as it has to 
 do with pilchards. 
 
 There is an inevitable awkward pause after the best 
 reading of a story by the author. Colonel Ingham broke 
 this himself : 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSETT. 159 
 
 " As the average story goes, for the average reader, 
 I think that is well enough. But, as I said, it has no 
 plot. A man meets a woman and falls in love with her. 
 How can he help himself ? That is all, as I said before. ' ' 
 
 " Colonel Ingham, you shall not laugh at it !" This 
 was Mrs. Menet's kind reply. "It is a very pretty 
 story, and vre are much obliged to you. ' ' 
 
 " Pretty, if you please," said Haliburton, who was in 
 his critical vein, " but it is very improbable. It is all 
 improbable." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said the colonel. " Tou 
 remind me of what I meant to say — and forgot. Mr. 
 Hale hinted at it. The short story differs from the long 
 novel in that very point — it may be improbable, and no 
 harm is done. Now, the long novel must, on the whole, 
 hold up the mirror to nature. But, when we tell each 
 other stories as we eat our walnuts, we generally choose 
 extraordinsirj things to tell. So with printed short stories. 
 
 " There is a story I once wrote about ^ My Double.' 
 One of the Boston papers said that was improbable. It 
 certainly was. I am by no means sure that such interest 
 as it has did not spring from that fact. 
 
 " I have written other stories, as I ought to say, which 
 were severely criticised because they were too probable. 
 But people are hard to please." 
 
CHAPTEK YI. 
 
 " "Why does Euth Lindsay's name sound familiar to 
 me?" 
 
 This was Mrs. Frechette's question to Mrs. Menet the 
 next morning as the ladies sat in the library after break- 
 fast. The men were scattered everywhere. 
 
 " Euth Lindsay ? Who is Euth Lindsay ?" 
 
 "Don't you remember? She is that poor girl who 
 listened, like Fine-ears, at the ground, and heard more 
 than was good for her." So said Mrs. Frechette. 
 
 " More than was good for her !" cried Anna Halibur- 
 ton. " It was the luckiest thing in the world for Enth. 
 How you would like her ! One of the most lovable 
 people I know ; and it is such a mercy she was well rid 
 of that tramp." 
 
 "Do you mean," said Mrs. Frechette, " that *5^ou 
 know the girl ? I thought Mr. Ingham^ — Colonel Ing- 
 ham — made her up. " 
 
 " My dear child, I am long ago a perfect Berkeleyan. 
 I feel as if we made it all up as we go along. If you 
 can meet Euth Byram, and see her pretty baby, you will 
 think they are very flesh- and -blood sort of people." 
 
 " Byram ? It is Euth Lindsay I am talking of." 
 
 " Do you suppose as nice a Lindsay as that stays 
 ' Lindsay ' forever ? Oh, my child, many a heart is 
 caught in the rebound ! Though, for that matter, Euth 
 was good at choosing. They say Ernest Byram had to 
 ask her twice." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAKRAGA]S"SETT. 161 
 
 " George wrote out the whole story, and it is in 
 Ha/rper's. That is why you thought the name familiar, 
 Mts. Frechette.-' 
 
 Mrs. Frechette nodded assent, but Mrs. Menet had 
 never heard it ; and as Anna Haliburton said they would 
 certainly meet the Lindsays when they went up to town 
 the volume was produced, and Mrs. Frechette read the 
 story of the courtship aloud to the others. 
 
 LAW AND GOSPEL. 
 
 I. — CHOICE. 
 
 "Head, I win ; tail, you lose," said young Byram, 
 speaking aloud, though he was alone. 
 
 He was walking up and down in his pretty room in 
 Lafayette College. He had finished his last examination 
 — nay, his last rehearsal before the final exhibition. His 
 trunks were packed for his departure the next day, after 
 the public services. His carpet was sold, and his furni- 
 ture given away. Everything was determined, except — 
 
 — Except that most difficult and deHcate question, 
 what he should do next. 
 
 He held in his hand a letter from his father, who was 
 in Munich, with all the rest of the family. His father 
 had written : 
 
 " ... I sympathize with you in your difficulties. I 
 felt like difficulties at your age. But you are a man 
 now, and a man must make a man's choice. You have 
 one adviser better than I am or your mother. Consult 
 Him, and you will not come out wrong. Indeed, even 
 if your mother had an eager wish in the matter, she 
 would not wish to govern you ; nor would I. 
 
 " Only decide. Decide — and decide within twenty- 
 
162 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 four hours after you receive this note. You will have 
 the same credit at Munroe's as you have had. If you 
 need naore, write and say so." 
 
 College graduates will now understand that poor 
 young Byram was in that slough of despond which so 
 many men have sunk in — perhaps as many as have 
 pulled through. His college life was ended, and he was 
 " choosing his profession." 
 
 It was in this stress — in the doubt between the life of 
 a minister and that of a lawyer — that Byram cried aloud 
 in his agony, 
 
 " Head, I win ; tail, you lose." 
 
 For he held in his hand an old Queen -Anne half- 
 penny. His grandmother had given it to him long ago, 
 and he had kept it as a sort of luck-penny. He snapped 
 it in the air. Britannia should be Justice, and the Queen 
 should be Mercy. " Urim and Thummim, " he had just 
 time to cry, when the halfpenny, fell in the back of his 
 easy-chair. It rested on its edge^ — neither side up — be- 
 tween the cushion and the mahogany. 
 
 " Destiny itself will not decide for me," cried poor 
 Byram. " Why should I do what destiny will not 
 do ?" And he sat at his desk and finished the letter to 
 his father which lay there waiting his determination. 
 
 " P.S. — I have your kind letter from Munich. I 
 have determined to go to Harvard to-morrow, and to 
 enter there next week." 
 
 Thus did the wi-etched lad postpone for a wretched 
 week the last decision. For at Harvard there is not only 
 a School of Law, but a Divinity School. And this 
 young Byram well knew. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN" KAKKAGANSETT. 163 
 
 II. INDECISION. 
 
 To Harvard accordingly he went. On the Fall Eiver 
 boat he met three or four gentlemen, one of whom was 
 an old friend of his father's, who introduced him to the 
 others. First they walked together, then they sat and 
 talked. The talk fell on their professional experiences. 
 All of them were at the bar. Now they rallied each 
 other ; now they talked seriously ; now they fell to 
 telling anecdotes of Kent, and Shaw, and Story, and 
 Gray ; and now in the merriest and now in the gravest 
 vein dropped hints, which Byram treasured, of the 
 blessings which an upright lawyer might scatter for 
 mankind. They all turned in at ten o'clock. And as 
 Byram wound his watch and crept into his berth, he felt 
 that the evening had been providentially appointed. 
 He would enter at the Law School as soon as he had 
 taken his room and furnished it. 
 
 To the cares of furniture and carpets, accordingly, he 
 gave Saturday ; was so far forward at night that he 
 could sleep on his new mattress, and on Sunday walked 
 into Boston to make his first studies of the quaint old 
 city. It happened that, in a sight-seer's fancy, he 
 drifted with the throng into a little church in the out- 
 skirts of the town. From the title-page of the hymn- 
 book he learned that he was with a branch of the vine in 
 whose service he had never joined before. A frank, 
 cheerful preacher took his place in the pulpit, and before 
 five minutes had passed Byram forgot that he was a 
 stranger. Hymns, Scripture, prayers, sermon, fitted in 
 each with each, all governed, clearly enough, by the im- 
 pulse of one eager purpose. Byram felt as if he were 
 listening to the talk of an old companion. He never 
 asked if this were oratory or no ; he did not test the 
 
1C4 CHKISTMA.S IN NAKRAGANSETT. 
 
 argument of the speaker ; lie followed liim eagerly, and 
 could only wonder, when he stopped, why he did so. 
 It happened that By ram sat in the very front of the 
 crowded church. Perforce he wai ted a little in the open 
 space before the communion table after the service was 
 over. It happened that the preacher, almost in haste, 
 ran down to speak to a little girl after the benediction, 
 60 that Byram stood close by him, and said to him, " I 
 thank you for what you said, and I wish you had said 
 more. ' ' 
 
 And then he started, frightened with his own courage. 
 
 But the other laughed, and said : ' ' That is our beset- 
 ting danger, you know. And really nothing on earth 
 can be equal to the temptation of going on when one's 
 audience listens. There is no such exquisite pleasure." 
 A lady touched him on the shoulder, saying, " Excuse 
 me for interrupting you," and he turned away. The 
 congregation was melting away, and Byram followed 
 them. 
 
 He walked to Cambridge, haunted by the single 
 thought that this man was as eager in his profession, and 
 as happy in it, as those lawyers had been in theirs. 
 And surely it was worth a man's while. Here were five 
 or six hundred people who had drunk in eagerly every 
 word that man had said. And Byram knew from his 
 own experience that they were going home with higher 
 purposes. It was worth while. 
 
 The next morning he had an interview with the dean 
 of the Divinity College, and in the afternoon an inter- 
 view with the dean of the Law School. 
 
 It ended as with such men such conflicts are apt to 
 end. Byram found that in the broad arrangements of 
 Harvard University there are many lines of study which 
 a student in either school mav well attend. He found 
 
CHEISTIIAS IN' NAEEAGAKSETT. 165 
 
 that at Divinity Hall tliey would receive him, if lie 
 pleased, as a "special student." True, he would thus 
 be apt to forfeit his chance for a bachelor's degree. 
 But in the attendance on the branches he chose he would 
 gain some insight into the line of study proposed. As 
 for the Law School, he would have to pass its examina- 
 tions from time to time. But, day by day, little precise 
 attendance was there required. And so the undecided 
 young man determined, if this could be called a deter- 
 mination, that he would enter at both schools till he 
 could make a choice by practical experiment in which 
 calling he was most at home. Almost carelessly, that he 
 might not be bothered by unnecessary questions, he en- 
 tered as George E. Byram at the Law School, and G. 
 Ernest Byram at the other. These were his names. He 
 was always called Ernest at home. At college he was 
 known as George. College boys seldom inquire what is 
 a young man's home name. 
 
 III. — ESPBHIMBNT. 
 
 Not one thought of deceit had crossed Byram's mind 
 when he entered his name by one initial and one name in 
 one school, and by reversing these in the other. He 
 did not mean to deceive professors or registrars. He 
 took it for granted, indeed, used as he was to smaller 
 circles, that his presence at Cambridge was already a 
 matter known to the authorities. It simply occurred to 
 him that he should save no end of questions by the regis- 
 tration he had chosen. He knew his indecision was un- 
 usual ; and he shrunk with a provincial shyness from the 
 annunciation which he thought possible, even in the 
 public Journals, that one gentleman was studying for two 
 professions, He knew bo little that he did not suspect, 
 
166 CHRISTMAS IN NAEltAGANSETX. 
 
 first, that no journal would mention the fact, and second, 
 that nobody would read the mention if it did. 
 
 Nor was it with any intention to deceive that it hap- 
 pened that he adopted a graver costume for what he 
 came to call Divinity days, diilering from the somewhat 
 flamboyant vests, walking coats, and trousers which he 
 wore on the days when, as it happened, most of his time 
 was spent at Dane Hall. He was not a ritualist, but a 
 person who respected harmony in costume. It was quite 
 natural to him, in a school where many of liis fellow- 
 students were poor men, to abstain from any loud or 
 costly display in dress. Most of the Divinity men wore 
 black or gray, and with them Byram did the same. But 
 he had his old clothes ; they must be worn at some time. 
 And so it happened — for he was regular in his habits — 
 that on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when he spent 
 most of his time at Divinity Hall, he was always dressed 
 in full black ; while on Tuesday, Thursday, and Satur- 
 day, at the Law School, his trousers were of one color 
 and his coat of another. A black sillc stove-pipe hat be- 
 longed with the black coat, and a reddish-gray Derby 
 with the gayer apparel. 
 
 It need hardly be said that the young fellow enjoyed 
 his studies at both schools. The law of selection worked 
 as it will. He could not but elect in each ; and natu- 
 rally he elected what was most agreeable to him in each, 
 while he rejected, without knowing it, the lines of study 
 which would have cost him much labor. It was not 
 long before he found out how closely the Common Law 
 doctrines are interwoven with the religious conscience of 
 a Christian people, and in his studies of ecclesiastical 
 history nothing fascinated him so much as the relations 
 of the Church of the Empire with the foundation of the 
 Civil Law. The fearless discussion of first principles 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGANSETT. 16? 
 
 among the Cambridge Divinity students gave him a sway 
 which hardly any fellow-student had in the more tech- 
 nical debates of the clubs in the Law School ; and, on 
 the other hand, the precision of statement of the Law 
 professors, and of the abler men among his fellows at 
 Dane Hall, gave him habits which became resources 
 very little known among the rhetorical and voluble part 
 of the conversationists at Divinity. The careful training 
 for public speech of a Divinity student made Byram a 
 favorite in the debating clubs of the Law School, while 
 the logical analysis of his subject, and the vigorous dis- 
 section of his adversary, made him, for the moment, the 
 master in what was then called the " Philanthropic So- 
 ciety" of young divines. So far — well. He had not to 
 reprove himself for wasting time. 
 
 Only one thing surprised him. Although he came to 
 be on terms of conversational acquaintance with his 
 teachers — visiting, indeed, at the houses of some of them 
 — no one of them ever alluded to his double course. 
 
 Could it be that, in the pressure of their duties, they 
 did not know he had undertaken it ? 
 
 IV. — INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It was a woman who revealed to young Byram the 
 awkwardness of the step he had taken. That there was 
 duplicity in it he knew ; it was duplicity, and nothing 
 else. But at first, because he had saved verbal decep- 
 tion, and had kept literally within the letter, he had 
 tried to persuade himself that for once the duplicity was 
 not to be blamed. He did no one any harm, he said to 
 himself. It was nobody's business where he studied, 
 except his father's, and he had, of course, notified his 
 father of his arrangements. For the rest, it amused him 
 to see how often his friends of the moot-court cut him 
 
168 CHRISTMAS ISr SrAKKAQANSETT. 
 
 dead on his Divinity days, and how the theological pro- 
 fessors, in their turn, passed him without recognition 
 when they met him in checked trousers and a loud cor- 
 duroy hunting coat. He had found it most convenient 
 not to take his meals at any of the public tables, but to 
 make o-ne of the simple family of the widow in whose 
 house he had taken rooms. Not that he was unsocial. 
 He was fond of company. And at first he was afraid he 
 had made a mistake in secluding himself, merely for 
 convenience, at the three meals, which are, after all, in 
 all forms of civilization, the three special altar services 
 of society. 
 
 But this fear did not last. He had a class in the Sun- 
 day-school of the parish church, and on every Sunday 
 afternoon he walked down to East Cambridge, with some 
 of the other young fellows, for religious service in the 
 county jail. In both these relationships he was thrown 
 into intimacy with admirable people of both sexes, in 
 the pleasantest home life of Cambridge. He found he 
 need not wait for invitations ; he could look in when he 
 chose. He could play croquet in the afternoon or even- 
 ing, he could join the riding parties, or there was a plate 
 if he "happened in" at breakfast, dinner, or tea. In 
 Boston life he had not so easy an entree. It was the 
 friends he made at the Law School clubs who introduced 
 him in Boston ; and, as it happened, he was there on the 
 more formal footing of invitation and answer. Evening 
 parties there were, however, without end, and when it 
 proved that George Bjram could dance as well as he 
 talked, there were subscriptions to assemblies and Ger- 
 mans. As winter closed in, George found that only too 
 much of his time was likely to be spent in the engage- 
 ments which he made in these circles of Boston and the 
 neighborhood. 
 
CHRISTMAS II^' NARRAGAKSETT. 169 
 
 Kutla Lindsay was tlie woman who has been spoken 
 of. It so happened that she was on a visit at Cam- 
 bridge, in one of those charming square houses — built a 
 little beyond the Longfellow house— where, if they did 
 but know it, the inmates have everything heart can 
 wish. ISTo, it was not Mr. Scudder's "poet's house," 
 but it was not far away. There had been an evening 
 reading, or something like it, at the People's Union, 
 where Byram had joined the group of ladies with whom 
 Miss Lindsay was, and he had been formally presented 
 to her. But his real introduction was in a more satisfac- 
 tory way. 
 
 He had been taking a "constitutional" walk, and 
 returning from Mount Auburn, crossed through Buck- 
 ingham Street toward the Observatory. Seeing a com- 
 motion in the street, he ran up to find that a horse, 
 whose feet were too smooth, had slipped on some early 
 ice, and fallen, and that the driver, a stupid Irish boy, 
 had no power to get him up. The horse plunged, and 
 there was risk of much more smashing than was needed. 
 Ernest ran forward, held the horse's head down to quiet 
 him — indeed, eventually knelt on his neck to hold him 
 in place — reached out as well as he could to loosen some 
 parts of the harness, and having slacked the tugs, bade 
 the boy take them off. But the boy was howling and 
 fooling, trying to lift out a basket of cabbages from his 
 load, and Ernest had to repeat his order, when, to his 
 surprise, Kuth Lindsay stepped up from behind him, 
 caught the idea, loosened one tug at once, and after a 
 moment's instruction the other. Ernest sprang up laiigh- 
 ing, encouraged the horse, who found his feet as soon as 
 he was free ; and then, while Miss Lindsay held his 
 gloves, he harnessed him to the wagon again. He gave 
 the boy some good counsel, and joined his charming ally 
 
170 CHRISTMAS IN KARRAGANSETT. 
 
 — one of the handsomest women, as has been said else- 
 where, who is at the same time lovable and lovely. 
 
 A bit of practical life like that is a great deal better 
 introduction than anything you can do with syllables and 
 tones. Indeed, talk is generally so insincere when peo- 
 ple begin, that it is excellent good luck if you begin 
 with act. Had these young people been introduced to 
 each other at Mrs. Dunster's house, he would have said, 
 " It is a very fine day," and she that it was " very fine." 
 lie would have said he liked the late Indian summer, 
 and she that she also liked the early Indian summer. 
 He would have said he hoped to-morrow would be as 
 tine, and she would have said she hoped so also. It 
 would therefore have taken a good while for him to find 
 out if she were as genuine as she was lovely, or for her 
 to find out if he thought of anybody but himself, or any- 
 thing but the parting of his back hair. But with the 
 introduction which did happen, each knew that the other 
 was quick, fearless, resolute, sensible, and unselfish. 
 That is as much as anybody has any right to know of 
 another in the first hour of a new acquaintance. 
 
 v. — HER VISIT. 
 
 Was Miss Lindsay starting for a walk ? Yes, she was. 
 They had been reading and sewing and embroidering all 
 the afternoon. The other girls were lazy, but she had 
 determined to go out, even if she went alone. 
 
 Might he join her ? Of course he might. She must 
 know the ways better than he, for he was quite a stran- 
 ger. And so they started. 
 
 He. " I cannot bear to see a horse suffer. At the 
 West, in my own home, I have my own span — that is, 
 my father calls them so. When we were little boys we 
 
CHRISTMAS m NARRAGANSETT. 171 
 
 had our own horses as soon as we could pretend to take 
 care of them." 
 
 She. " How nice that must be ! I remember my 
 brother said, when he first had a horse of his own, that 
 it was such a comfort always to have the stirrup right, 
 and never have to change it. Yes, I hate to see a horse 
 suffer, or, for that matter, any animal we are using. It 
 seems so mean in us." 
 
 Jle. " Do you hke pets ? — do jou have pets ?" 
 
 She. ' ' Yes, and no. I like them when they like me. 
 I doubt if I am patient enough to have a pet of my own 
 — I mean one I must remember. But our house is full 
 of them — dogs, cats, rabbits to help the gardening ; 
 hens of every race known and unknown ; everything but 
 canary-birds^ — caged birds, you know." 
 
 He. " I know. But why not, with the others ?" 
 
 She. " Why not ? Because a bird is to fly. That 
 is what he is good for. How absurd to slmt him up 
 where he cannot fly ! It is like putting a locomotive in 
 a museum. Or those splendid horses with military equip- 
 ments on them, which you see in the arsenals, to show 
 what a lancer or a dragoon is. I always hurry by those 
 dreadful horses. How should 1 like to be skinned and 
 stuffed because somebody wanted to exhibit a parasol, or 
 a muff, or a necklace ?" And the girl shuddered. 
 
 Jle. ' ' If you feel so about a horse, what will you say 
 when you have your own, give him his salt and his 
 apple, and when he loves to take it from your hand ?" 
 
 She. " You say ' when you have,' in your nice West- 
 em way, as if people had only to wish for such luxuries, 
 and have them. Do you know, I have never gone be- 
 yond Niagara, and I am as ignorant of your free, large- 
 scale life as — as most Boston girls are. Tell me about it. 
 What do your sisters do ? Have you sisters ? After 
 
172 CHRISTMAS IN- NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 they have washed the breakfast cups, what comes 
 next ?" 
 
 And when he was adjured in this laughing way, he 
 tried to tell her. To tell the truth, he hardly knew 
 what would seem new to her, and what would not. He 
 hardly knew how she lived. He had to ask her. And 
 all this made a frank, unaffected beginning. From the 
 West they came back to Cambridge, to the People's 
 Union, where they had first met, and to Miss Abbot's 
 class of boys. Byram took one evening there every 
 week regularly, but he confessed that he was afraid of 
 boys. 
 
 "I think 1 should like that," said Euth. " I hke 
 boys, and without knowing, 1 believe 1 should manage 
 them. What do you do with them ?" 
 
 " Oh, everything. They are taught to whittle, to use 
 a jig-saw. We teach them to play chess, and they know 
 how to play dominoes and checkers without teaching. 
 Poor little pirates ! if we can keep them out of the gut- 
 ter, that is one thing gained." 
 
 " Yes," said she, rather sadly, " and out of the beer- 
 shops. A Sunday-school boy of mine was brought home 
 drunk by the police one Sunday night. That was 
 awful." Then she shook her head, as if she would not 
 think of this. "Anyway, Mr. Byram, you show them 
 somebody cares for them. 1 am afraid that is a new 
 lesson for some of them, poor creatures !" 
 
 "Dear Miss Lindsay, it is," said he, eagerly —he 
 hardly knew how eagerly ; but this was one of Ernest's 
 hobbies. " In their own line of life there is kindness, 
 of course ; but the steady kindness — well, you know 
 what I mean — that is what one would be glad, well, to 
 get the habit of, liimself." And then he told her what 
 was really a funny story as he told it, with a very 
 
CHRISTMAS IJSr STARRAGAXSETT. 173 
 
 pathetic side. He had picked up a waif the day his 
 boxes were opened, to help him fetch and carry. As 
 one bit of table luxury after another came out of the 
 boxes, this Mike Downey regularly asked, " What's that 
 for, Mr. Byram ?" " What did it cost, Mr. Byram ?" 
 And Byram would answer steadily that the thing was a 
 paper-weight, or a letter-rack, or a thermometer, or a 
 book-mark ; but to the second question, as to price, he 
 would always say he did not know. At last Mike 
 Downey presumed so far as to ask why he knew nothing 
 of the element of cost, itself so important. " Why, 
 Mike," said he, " I do not buy these things; people 
 have given them to me. ' ' 
 
 "It made me think," said Ernest, "as I had not 
 thought before, how we are buttressed and stayed by 
 our friends, and I am afraid poor Mike knew nothing of 
 that. He had had more kicks than coppers given to 
 him. And 1 — why, you know how it is. Miss Lindsay ; 
 1 cannot look across my room without seeing a picture, 
 or a flower-holder, or a letter-weight, or a clothes-brush, 
 that somebody has given me. Why, the copper tea- 
 kettle on the hob was my mother's present when I went 
 to boarding-school, and I shall lag it round with me till 
 I die." 
 
 All such talk, fresh and easy, though of nothing, if 
 you please, made the young people feel as if they had 
 always known each other ; and though Ernest declined 
 Miss Lindsay's invitation to stay to tea, he was none the 
 less pleased when Mrs. Dunster, at whose house Miss 
 Lindsay was making her visit, asked him to join their 
 riding party of the next day. Nor was he sorry when 
 the accidents of the start gave him Miss Lindsay as his 
 companion. He was well mounted, and so was she. 
 The day was perfect. He was twenty-three years old, 
 
174 CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGANSETT. 
 
 and slie just less than twenty. What more could heart 
 desire ? 
 
 Her visit in Cambridge lasted a week longer. And it 
 happened that almost every day the young people were 
 all together. Ernest was a favorite at the Botanic Gar- 
 den and at the Museum of Natural History. On two 
 different days he did the honors to a gay party to perfec- 
 tion in showing these tamed lions. One evening they 
 spent together in the whittling school. One evening 
 they heard Professor Toy read from the " Arabian 
 Nights." Ernest was sorry when Miss Lindsay's visit 
 was ended. 
 
 VI. — THE GERMAN. 
 
 After the visit was ended, Mrs. Dunster took Ernest 
 seriously to task that he had scarcely entered her house 
 while it went on. " Did you think we had scarlet fever 
 here, Mr. Byram ?" she asked. And Ernest wondered 
 himself how it had happened that till the evening she 
 asked this question, in such daily out-door appointments 
 with the young people, he had scarcely passed beyond 
 her hospitable hall. 
 
 For all this gayety he had to make up by harder work 
 on ecclesiastical history and on jurisdiction and pro- 
 cedure in equit}^ And when, after a month's midnight 
 kerosene, he felt at liberty to indulge his passion for 
 society again, it was in quite another field. At that 
 time there was in winter a recess for a fortnight in the 
 middle of the Harvard campaign, a sort of breathing- 
 time between two rounds, when the wounds of battle 
 could be stanched and bound, when the principals 
 dropped back into the arms of their seconds to recover 
 their wind, and the fit applications were made to their 
 blackened eyes and bruised noses. Byram's Boston 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NABBAGANSETT. 175 
 
 friends of the Law School all flitted into the city, and he 
 found himself fairly overwhelnaed by evening invitations 
 there. 
 
 Miss Lindsay's winter home was Boston. Till this 
 year her father's family had spent the most of the year 
 in the neighborhood of Cambridge. But Miss Kuth had 
 taken a dislike to the country home ; an affair of the 
 heart had had its crisis there — of which this reader pos- 
 sibly knows something. Her father had sold the place, 
 and for that winter they lived in Boston. It happened, 
 therefore, that in the very heat of the German one even- 
 ing, at a briUiant assembly at Papanti's, as George 
 Byram was circling round the room with that pretty 
 little Soiithern girl. Miss Travis, they passed Miss Kuth 
 Lindsay, who was waltzing with Joe Trevor, one of 
 George's companions in the Law School. Thanks to the 
 communistic theory of the German, when his partner 
 left him for another, Geoi'ge had a chance to ask Miss 
 Lindsay to take a turn with him. To his chagrin she 
 declined coldly, and took another partner who had 
 offered himself at the same moment. You would have 
 said from her manner that she never saw him before. 
 Poor George had to swallow his discomfiture as he 
 might, and was left to wonder, not for the first time, at 
 the variability of a certain sex. 
 
 He did not go to Cambridge that night. He was Joe 
 Trevor's guest. As he went up to his room after the 
 ball, asking still how he could have offended Miss Lind- 
 say, he caught a glimpse of himself in a long cheval- 
 glass, and cried aloud, in joy, " By Hercules ! the girl 
 did not know me !" 
 
 Let it be remembered that he had been but three 
 months in the theological school, and its training had 
 not exterminated certain semi-classical habits of speech, 
 
176 CHEISTMAS IIT NAERAGAlirSETT. 
 
 borrowed from what is called profane literature, whicli at 
 the end of a year he would doubtless have abandoned. 
 
 How should she know him ? A Divinity student 
 whom she last saw at a mission school, where, as he re- 
 membered, he wore a heavy velveteen riding coat, as he 
 was explaining on the blackboard to wondering Arabs 
 the method in which a caterpillar becomes a cocoon. 
 How should she know this white-vested, white-necktied, 
 swallow-tailed young dancer, with a red carnation in his 
 button-hole, to be the same person whom, in a faded 
 overcoat of the cut of Ponceville, she had seen kneeling 
 on the head of Jem Fagin's horse in Buckingham 
 Street ? Anyway, poor George took the benefit of the 
 doubt, and so slept that night sweetly and soundly, in- 
 stead of pitching wretchedly from side to side on his hot 
 pillow. 
 
 TII. PBBStTMPTION. 
 
 Happily the next night Mrs. Templeman gave a party. 
 Not too many, just nice people, you know ; and that 
 beautiful house, with simply perfect music. Happily 
 George Byram was bidden. As he and Joe Trevor rode 
 to the party, Joe said, ' ' Did you see our pretty Miss 
 Lindsay ?" 
 
 George. " Yes. But 1 do not think ' pretty ' is the 
 word." 
 
 Joe. " Have it as you choose. She is very nice, I tell 
 you. She said that at first she thought she knew you. 
 She thought you looked like a man she knew in the 
 Divinity School." 
 
 George knew he flushed up at this, but he said noth- 
 ing for a minute. Then he had time to collect himself, 
 and asked Joe to present him if there was a chance. 
 Miss Lindsay was at the dance, so of course there was. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 177 
 
 Of course, too, George meant to explain instantly. 
 But of course, too, there was no opportunity. How 
 should he explain ? Should he say, " Miss Lindsay, 1 
 am a base deceiver" ? But he was not a base deceiver. 
 Should he say, " Miss Lindsay, I am not a deceiver, but 
 an unfortunate young man, the victim of circumstances" ? 
 Was he not a deceiver ? Anyway, might she not be stiff 
 and old-fashioned in her judgments ? Might she not 
 think a Divinity student should be better employed than 
 in dancing at assemblies and balls every night after mid- 
 night ? This was clear — that he need not explain now. 
 There would come a more convenient season. 
 
 Alas ! as the reader has seen, poor Byram had not 
 come in life or theology as far as the critical exposition 
 of Acts 24: : 25. He did not yet know that that more 
 convenient season never comes. Joe introduced him, 
 and Miss Lindsay was able to give him the dance then 
 next pending. 
 
 He. " 1 hope you enjoyed last evening." 
 She. " Oh yes. It was a nice party. " 
 Jle. " Do you like the German ?" 
 She. " Oh yes. Once in a while, of course." 
 He. " I suppose you have danced abroad ?'' 
 She. " Oh no. 1 never crossed the water. " 
 He. " Is Boston very gay this winter ?" 
 She. " Oh, I do not know. I think probably you 
 know better than I. ' ' 
 
 He. " I ? Oh, 1 am a Western man. 1 do not know 
 Boston." 
 
 She. " I do not know any one who does." 
 
 Here was George's chance. The first break this was 
 
 in the icy conimonplace of a first conversation. But he 
 
 was afraid. Although he knew this lovely girl so well, 
 
 it seemed all of a sudden as if he did not know her. 
 
178 CHKISTMAS IN" NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 There seemed a wretched veil to have fallen between 
 them. If only he could have spoken of the Belmont 
 oaks, of Professor Hazen's butterflies, of the funny Irish 
 boy at the carving school ! But till he had explained, 
 he could not do that. So he began, almost hopelessly : 
 
 He. " I saw you at the rehearsal. " 
 
 She. " Oh, were you there ?" 
 
 He. " I called it a good concert." 
 
 She. " Oh yes, very good." 
 
 He. " Were there not too many songs ?" 
 
 She. " I like vocal music. " 
 
 He. " Do you sing ?" 
 
 He knew she sang like a wood-thrush when she chose 
 to sing, in the second of a hymn, or when people were 
 rowing in a boat by moonlight. But he was tempted to 
 ask this question, I say not by whom. 
 
 She. " 1 do not sing in that fashion." 
 
 A dreary beginning again. Actually, though he had 
 all day been hoping for this very dance, he was glad 
 when it was over ; and before long he told Trevor that 
 he found the party rather a bore, and he would quietly 
 go home. 
 
 It was a wretched beginning. Still, it was a begin- 
 ning. And poor George followed it resolutely, hoping 
 always, whenever he met Miss Lindsay, that he should 
 find that convenient opportunity to explain. But it 
 never came. The fact that he had a secret made him 
 conscious. Because he was ill at ease, he did not show 
 himself tlie straightforward, unselfish fellow that in fact 
 he was. For her, she could not be ill-tempered, and 
 never meant to bo hard. But if she loved anything, it 
 was truth. If any tiling annoyed her, it was the stiff 
 convention of frivolous society talk. Nobody knew 
 better than she that it was not necessary. She asked 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAKRAGANSETT. 179 
 
 Mr. Byram once if he knew the other Mr. Byram, who 
 resembled him so closely. George jumped at the 
 chance. He said he wished he did, but that he had 
 been very unlucky ; and just then- that popinjay AVallace 
 bowed to Miss Lindsay, and took her away to dance. 
 George was worse off than before. His little joke had 
 carried farther than he meant this unhappy deception. 
 
 Still, there were times when they got on better with 
 each other. By great good luck he was asked to a state 
 dinner party which Mrs. Belcher gave to Lord Hampden 
 Sidney when he came over to study American institu- 
 tions, see Niagara, and hunt buffaloes in a three weeks' 
 vacation. When Mrs. Belcher asked George to take 
 Miss Lindsay to dinner, he was in the seventh heaven ; 
 and well he might be. On the other side of her was an 
 attache of the Japanese legation, who had handed down 
 Miss Trist, and was talking to her in the sign language. 
 So George had three perfect hours. They talked of 
 everything in the heavens above, and the earth beneath, 
 and the waters under the earth. For they talked of 
 comets and meteors and the new satellites of Mars ; they 
 talked of moles and learned mice, and the Ute Indians, 
 with whom he had hunted, and the colors of porcelain, 
 which she had painted. They talked of the Artesian 
 well her father was boring at his factory, and of the 
 fossil mineral watei'S which the world drinks at Saratoga. 
 They talked of people, of Irish famine and Hungarian 
 patriots, of the Neapolitan fishermen his sisters had met 
 the last autumn, and of the Mount Desert skipper who 
 took Miss Lindsay in his boat so nicely. George was 
 himself again — fresh, simple, and unpretending. She 
 was herself — quick, incisive, as gentle, when you left her 
 to her own way, as she was haughty if you pressed her. 
 Every way that was a charming dinner. 
 
180 CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 The next day George called on Miss Lindsay. She 
 was not quite well, the servant said. The next day she 
 was not at the assembly, and George learned she was 
 quite ill. The next day he ventured to leave some 
 flowers. The doctor's chaise was at the door. The 
 recess was over, and George had to return to Jurisdic- 
 tion in Equity without another word with Miss Lindsay. 
 
 That illness of hers revealed to him a great deal. If 
 she had died, he should die ; that he knew. And when 
 Joe Trevor's sister, who was very sympathetic and good, 
 told him at last that Miss Ruth was out of danger, 
 George could have screamed for joy. But the winter 
 was well-nigh gone before he could call on her again. 
 Then she was out. Lent came, and there were no par- 
 ties. Byram clung to Mrs. Dunster's house in despair. 
 But they could not get any visit from Miss Lindsay. 
 "When at last he did meet her, it was at an evening party 
 where he least expected it. He did not pretend to dis- 
 guise his joy. He was so eager that she was perhaps 
 frightened, certainly annoyed. He felt that the same 
 chill came over her which depressed him so at Mrs. 
 Templeman's. Still, it would be gone if she knew all 
 he had suffered. He asked her to go into the library to 
 see the East Indian photographs. The photographs 
 were wonderful ; and, best of all, they were alone. 
 
 George seized his opportunity. He told her how 
 wretched her illness had made him. He was not afraid 
 to tell her that he had prayed God for her recovery. 
 He tried to explain to her why she was all in all to him. 
 The harder he tried, the more unreasonable he seemed. 
 She had not been spending three weeks in one eager 
 thought, as he had. She felt he had never earned any 
 right to speak to her in this fashion ; only a few inter- 
 views at dances and dinner parties. The man was a 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NARKAGANSETT. 181 
 
 fool. She did not tell him this. But she let him under- 
 stand that he was very presumptuous. There was no if 
 or but in her very kind but very decided rejection of his 
 suit. Whatever miglit be said of him, Kuth Lindsay 
 was not an undecided person. 
 
 Tin. — DECISION. 
 
 Poor George ! He had to go back to Practice in 
 Equity with such spirit as he could, and this was with no 
 spirit at all. Every day he entered the lecture-room at 
 the Law College the memories of these weeks of anxiety 
 haunted him. It was when he took up his other life — 
 his hfe among poets, proj)hets, philosophers, and the 
 leaders of the world ; the life which led him to-day to 
 hobnob with John Milton, and to-morrow to make a new 
 pattern for the jig-saw boys — that he was able for a few 
 minutes at a time to escape from the wretched memories 
 of failure. Although he kept his name on the books of 
 the Law School, his attendance and work now were 
 more and more at the other end of the town. 
 
 One evening in early spring Ernest had been reading 
 the story of Aladdin to six or eight ragged street boys at 
 the Union, when the door of the httle room opened, just 
 as he was dismissing' them, and Mrs. Dunster and her 
 daughters came in, followed by Miss Kuth Lindsay. 
 Poor Ernest ! His first wish was to sink though the 
 floor into the butcher's shop, or whatever it is, below. 
 
 And Miss Lindsay approached him so cordially, and 
 with the old welcoming smile which he had so longed 
 for. Poor fellow ! he blushed red, he gulped, he hardly 
 gave his hand to the hand she offered so readily. But 
 in a moment he was himself, and he saw that Miss Lind- 
 say did not know him here, with his chalks and his 
 
183 CHRISTMAS IN N4REAQANSETT. 
 
 working coat, more than she had known him when he 
 spoke to her in the German. She was speaking to 
 Ernest now, and not to George. A moment more and 
 he had screwed off liis gas, and they were walking home. 
 Other gentlemen joined the rest of the party, and 
 Ernest, happy fellow ! was able to offer her his arm, 
 which she accepted. 
 
 She. " How long it is since we met, Mr. Byram ! Do 
 you never come into Boston ?" 
 
 He. " Sometimes. Not much lately. " (Mumble, 
 mumble, mumble. To tell the truth, he was a good 
 deal confused.) 
 
 She. " The Boston parties depend a good deal on 
 students. But I suppose you do not waste time in 
 dancing ?" 
 
 He {blundering wretchedly). " 1 used to be very fond 
 of dancing. But this winter — yes, 1 am too busy. " 
 
 So they floated over the difficult beginning. When 
 Mrs. Dunster asked her escorts to come in, the other 
 gentlemen declined ; but Ernest was audacious enough, 
 in his new happiness, to accept, l^or shall these pages 
 tell how late he stayed. 
 
 ISTor how, the next day, he read the Morphologic to 
 the ladies as they sat at their embroidery. 
 
 Nor how, the next day, they made a party all together 
 to see the House with Seven Gables, with Lord Hamp- 
 den Sidney, who had returned from the buffaloes, having 
 stayed much longer than he meant. 
 
 Nor how there was a charade party the next night, 
 and Ernest was the boatman to Ruth Lindsay's ' ' Lord 
 Ullin's daughter." 
 
 No, nor how every day brought them together for 
 some object of charity, of fun, of study, or of work, 
 while Miss Lindsay's visit lasted. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NABBAGANSETT. 183 
 
 For this story it is only necessary to tell that as they 
 all walked home from the Brighton station one day, after 
 an exploration in the boats at Auburn Dale — it -was the 
 last day of the visit, alas ! —when they came to the place 
 in Buckingham Street where Jem Fagin's horse fell 
 down, Ernest told Miss Lindsay again that he thought of 
 her in every waking moment, and unless she would let 
 him love her as his life, he thought he should die. 
 
 And this time Euth did not tell him that he was pre- 
 sumptuous. She said very little. But she said enough 
 to make Ernest happy, should he live a thousand years. 
 
 That night he took his name o£E from the books of the 
 Law School. 
 
 Most of the young people had drifted into the room 
 before the reading was finished. But the men were still 
 about, with their oxen, their partridges, or at their 
 farms, so that the colonel did not know that the law had 
 been violated which he had laid down, that no story 
 should be read aloud at Sybaris which had, by any 
 chance, been written there. 
 
 " That sort of double life is very curious," said Mrs. 
 Frechette. " 1 am quite conscious that some of my 
 friends think me absent-minded, while I am, in fact, 
 very wide-awake and prompt. 1 have friends who think 
 I am very well informed, while, in fact, I am a fool. 
 My husband, who is not a fool, thinks 1 sing exquisitely, 
 and talks the greatest nonsense in the world about my 
 rich contralto. I keep him deceived ; but, in truth, 1 
 cannot sing half as well as any decent frog who has a 
 good baritone. " 
 
 " We tried to utilize the doubleness of man's nature," 
 said Mrs. Ingham, " but we came to grief by it." Her 
 
184 CHRISTMAS IN NARKAGANSETT. 
 
 older friends laughed. The Western ladies did not 
 know what she meant in the least. The truth was, that 
 her husband once tried a Double, and was undone by 
 him, in his earlier life.* 
 
 " But, seriously, dear Mrs. Ingham, he had a more 
 curious experience that way, had he not ?" 
 
 " Oh, you mean at the North Pole ? Perhaps you 
 can make him tell the story this evening ; you can if any 
 one can. You can see that he refuses you nothing." 
 
 * See " My Double, and How He tTndid Me." 
 
CHAPTEK YII. 
 
 AcooEDHTGLT, as if nothing had been prefaced or pre- 
 mised — as is the artful way of this little company of 
 women — when we all assembled after a long dinner of 
 herbs, of meats, and fowl, and fish, and of endless talk, 
 Mrs. Menet skilfully led the way. She had a volume of 
 Euskin opened, and began with asking some question 
 about Turner's knowledge of the form of waves. 
 
 Crafty Mrs. Frechette ! We are far enough from the 
 North Pole ! 
 
 But this reader, accomplished alike in literature and in 
 fine art, learned also by experience in the wiles of our 
 charming friend, Mrs. Frechette, remembers well how 
 Turner slipped away one June from London and ap- 
 peared at Hull. 
 
 At Hull he covenanted with the captain of a whaler 
 that he might go with him into the northern seas. 
 
 So is it that Turner could ever after paint the crest of 
 a wave. Nay, he even had a notion, as the reader 
 knows, of " the trick of foam." 
 
 When Mrs. Frechette asked her wily question, Hali- 
 burton told her all this, which she knew quite as well as 
 he. 
 
 She meant to have some one tell the story. Wily 
 Mrs. Frechette ! 
 
 A funny smile came over Ingham's face, which 
 George Hackmatack understood, and he said at once, 
 " What do you know of Baffin Bay, Ingham ?" for 
 
186 CHRISTMAS IS NARBAQANSETT. 
 
 George knew that Ingham's smile meant that he had 
 gone beyond Turner. 
 
 Now, Ingham is a silent man in the matter of his own 
 achievements. He is much more apt to squeeze the 
 sponges of the people around him, and to make out their 
 biographies, than to give anybody much hint of his own. 
 But the children began an attack when they found there 
 was a chance of a story, and we gave him no mercy till 
 he began. 
 
 When he had finished, I did not wonder that he had 
 never told it before Mrs. Frechette and the rest of us. 
 
 COLONEL INGHAM'S JOUBNEY. 
 
 It was all a philosophical experiment. I had given a 
 great deal of thought and study to the problems of Sleep. 
 I once lectured on Sleep all through the Western cities, 
 with illustrations by the audience. That was, however, 
 my last winter on the " Lyceum Platform." The com- 
 mittees thought I ought to furnish my own illustrations. 
 Since then I have only been asked to lecture in the char- 
 itable courses, where they do not pay. 
 
 It is queer, when you think of it, that the problem has 
 not been worked out before. Here is this untiring soul, 
 clothed upon with a body which grows tired. The body 
 needs rest, and finds it in sleep. Where is the man 
 meanwhile ? This infinite soul, who half an hour ago 
 was listening to Isaiah, or walking with Orion across the 
 heavens, where has he gone while the body is covered up 
 in bed-clothes ? You do not think the soul has pulled 
 the blanket round his neck, do you ? 
 
 I had brooded over this a good deal, when one night, 
 
CHRISTIIAS IlSr NAEEAGANSETT. 187 
 
 as mj terrestrial globe stood in a strong light from a 
 kerosene lamp, wMch made a very decent sun for it, I 
 was showing Blanche Stockhardt, who is one of my 
 pets, how nearly opposite is Pitcaim's Island, the mod- 
 ern paradise, to Jerusalem, and then I turned it to make 
 noon over, this Boston of ours, and to show the child 
 how it was midnight in China. 
 
 Of course at that moment the mystery of Sleep was 
 explained to me, and it has been no mystery since. 
 
 Ton see, do you not ? The soul has no care about 
 distance. Of course the moment when this body does 
 not need him, though for only an hour of night, the soul 
 has only to pass across there where it is day, and start 
 up another machine, which is just ready to be wakened. 
 
 In that moment I saw that there are two of me — one 
 here in Boston, and the other there in the Chinese Em- 
 pire. I did not then know the name of the place, but 
 as soon as I got Franquelin and Hue's map I found it. 
 Here it is (said Ingham, crossing the room) ; it is in this 
 little oasis in the great desert of Gobi. It is a place 
 called Pe-ling, but it is not to be confounded with the 
 Pe-ling Monntains. They are quite different, as the 
 Chinese Post-office once explained to me. This Pe-ling 
 is a little leather town, where they have a one-horse sort 
 of a tannery. The other, as I call him, wakes when I 
 sleep. His name out there is Kan-schau. He is a man 
 who keeps account of skins as the people bring them in. 
 He is a sort of civil serv^ice man, who gets his income 
 once a month from the government. 
 
 [I need hardly say that we were aghast when Ingham 
 went into this detail on subjects of which we thought he 
 could not possibly know anything. But we knew him 
 quite too well to interrupt. When his engine is thrown 
 off the track it breaks all travel on all lines for that day. 
 
188 CHRISTMAS IS" KARRAGAKSETT. 
 
 and numberless jack-screws are needed before any traffic 
 can be renewed. So we let him go on. J 
 
 You know I bad had to do with that region, only it 
 was farther north. I spent the better part of a summer 
 working with the telegraph at Nof po Ston, a pretty place 
 on Lake Baikal, on the Russian side of the line.* There 
 we had more or less to do with Chinese traders, and I 
 made one of them teach me a little colloquial Chinese by 
 the Mastery method of Prendergast. It only requires 
 you to commit one hundred and seventeen words to 
 memory in sixteen different phrases. So soon as Blanche 
 Stockhardt had gone I found my Chinese lexicon, and 
 wrote the other body a note, asking about his health and 
 his habits. The next day, as I tell you, I hunted up 
 the Franquelin atlas, and found the place. 1 did not 
 know his name — I mean, of course, my name — out 
 there. But I directed the note, which was written in 
 the first-chop, gold-button, highest Mandarin language 
 of all, to " The Most Sensible Man in Pe-ling." 
 
 But this was the letter which, as I said, was returned 
 to me by the Chinese Post-office, with the statement that 
 they had searched all through the Pe-ling Mountain, and 
 there was no such person there as the one mentioned on 
 the letter. The truth is that our Pe-ling — our antipodes 
 on the parallel of latitude — latitude 42° 23' north, longi- 
 tude 110° east, has, as 1 said, nothing to do with the 
 Pe-ling Mountains. It was, on the whole, much better 
 that that letter did not hit him ; for, when 1 got no an- 
 swer, I hit on a much better plan. And so it was that 1 
 saw Turner, as I tell you. 
 
 * See " Round the World in a Hack." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAREAGAKSETT. 189 
 
 [He had not told us any sucli thing. But this is Ing- 
 ham's way. And, as 1 say, it is so risky to interrupt him 
 that xvc always let him go on.] 
 
 It occurred to me one day that — if the Chinese body 
 kept at the accurate distance of longitude, as, in theory, 
 it certainly would — when I, Fred Ingham, walked north 
 on the 70th meridian. Kaolin, as I then called my other 
 machine, would walk north on the 110th. If I walked 
 or rode west to Albany — four or five degrees of latitude 
 — Kaolin would, of course, go west on his parallel — say 
 to Ling-shaw. Clearly enough, then, if I wanted to 
 talk matters over with him, he and I had only to go to 
 the north pole — I on the meridian of 70°, and he on that 
 of 110.° And on this simple plan I went to work. It 
 is a much easier business than you think it, if you begin 
 to think, as everybody does, by supposing an expedition 
 there to be a government affair, with measurements of 
 magnetic force, and declination, and dip, and all that. 
 
 I cared nothing for the dip — what I wanted was to see 
 my other self. Kaolin. 
 
 [" I should think he was beside himself when he 
 started," said George, in a whisper. But, for reasons 
 stated, no one dared speak aloud. Little Annie pulled 
 at George eagerly to keep him quiet.] 
 
 Of course (continued Ingham), if a man cares about 
 the difference between Tetrapus arcticus and Tetrapus 
 lorealis, he must carry a lot of books with him and a 
 man of science. If he carries a man of science, he must 
 carry the man's rations and his cook, and a man to drag 
 his sled, and so on. Hence what are called " expedi- 
 tions." But if a man is only going to see a friend, or 
 to see himself, as 1 was — " veluti in specula," as the Yul- 
 gate hath it — and if he only cares for Tetrapus arcticus 
 as so much good carbon and nitrogen, to be torn in 
 
190 CHRISTMAS IS NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 pieces and devoured for the body's fuel, why, he goes as 
 I might go to Young's or to Parker's for my lunch, 
 •without an ' ' expedition' ' to carry me. 
 
 I began by running down to New London. All this 
 was long ago, and they still carried on the whale-lishery 
 there. Tes, I^ed, I went to your cousins, or your wife's 
 cousins, those princes, the Perkinses ; they were in that 
 business then. 
 
 Then and there I learned, what I fancy most of you 
 do not know, that there is such a charm about that Arctic 
 life that the whalemen always want to be left for the 
 winter when the ship comes home with oil. This is 
 the way that the trade has been carried on of late 
 years. Tou send up a ship, as soon as the ice is open, 
 with a full crew. You join the men you left the last 
 autumn. They have been fishing from the shore all the 
 time except in the very dead of winter, and trying out 
 their oil. You take on board the oil they have made, 
 and spend the summer making more. Then you bring 
 back all your oil. But the point is, as Mr. Perkins told 
 me, that all the men are eager to stay. It is a reward to 
 stay. You leave those who have behaved well, and the 
 half which comes home is sour and disappointed. 
 
 "Well, I did not tell my whole plan to the Perkinses. 
 They agreed to send mo as far north as they could. 
 They agreed to take aboard an extra boat for my pur- 
 poses. As it proved, their captain — no, it was not Bud- 
 ington, it was another man — advanced my plans in every 
 way, though he did not quite know what they were. 
 
 [No one had said it was Budington. But the reader 
 must understand, once for all, that this ejaculatory or 
 parenthetical manner is in Ingham's way, and must be 
 taken for granted.] 
 
 So I got my traps together and started. We were to 
 
CHEISTJIAS IS KAKRAGANSETT. 191 
 
 put in at Ilpernavik, as they all do. Yes, there is a 
 Lowernavik, or was, but that has nothing to do with it. 
 The governor was very civil— only too civil. His daugh- 
 ter was pretty. You remember her picture. No, not 
 in Hayes's book ; before that. No, not in Parry's ; she 
 was a baby then. 1 have her picture somewhere. And 
 it was at a party he gave us and some Englishmen from 
 Hull that I met Turner. 
 
 Had you rather I should tell you about Turner, or 
 about Kaolin or Kan-schau ? For really I am talking 
 too much. I am doing all the talking. 
 
 [And Ingham looked at his watch. The children 
 cared nothing for Turner ; they hardly knew who he 
 was. They clamored for the north pole and Kan-schau ; 
 and Ingham, well pleased, went on.] 
 
 As I said, I had no scientific purposes. I was not to 
 write a book, or to present a report. 1 was not even 
 going into society, as men call society. I was only going 
 to meet my other self — not my better half, whom I al- 
 ready knew I had left at home. (And here Ingham looked 
 affectionately at Polly, who was knitting by the fire.) 
 So I meant to rely, as at bottom all the grandest expedi- 
 tions rely, on the native Greenlanders. I found plenty 
 of them ready to be hired. I had not to tell them 
 whether we were going north, south, east, or west. 
 Enough for them that they had good guns given them, 
 such a harpoon and such shark hooks and cod hooks as 
 they never saw before, promise of good wages, and in- 
 structions to report on board the Sarah, with eight dogs, 
 on the morning she sailed. 
 
 Then came a great piece of luck. Baffin's Bay in 
 
192 CHRISTMAS ISr NAKRAGANSETT. 
 
 winter is mucli like this water-bottle wlien it left the ice 
 machine, and had a solid block of ice frozen in it close 
 to each side. Baffin's Bay, on the 20th of June, is much 
 like this same bottle now, where the ice block floats as it 
 chooses in melted water. It is as the turn of a straw, it 
 is the chance of the wind, whether the "pack" of ice 
 hugs the east coast or the west. By good luck that 
 spring it held close in to the west coast ; by good luck 
 the winds were north-easterly, and the ' ' pack' ' all 
 drifted west. We cracked north in the Sarah, in no 
 time. The captain meant to leave me at the beginning 
 of Smith Sound, but he found that open, and he said he 
 could not resist the temptation of sailing up. It was 
 early July. The days were all one ; the sun was " ever 
 so high" at midnight. The sky — oh, it was so clear ! 
 — as if we had been in Spain. In one day — we liardly 
 tacked twice — we ran all up that rather critical channel, 
 which took its discoverers all summer, and my good 
 captain said he was fairly tempted to run to the north 
 pole. 
 
 But of course he was for whales, and must not go ex- 
 ploring. He landed me and my traps, and my two men, 
 and my eight dogs, and my whale-boat, under the lee of 
 a bold clifiE that runs out — say here, if you will look at 
 my map, Clara. Here is BaiBn's Bay, this will do for 
 Kennedy Land, and here we are at Cape' Douglas- 
 Digges. They gave us three cheers. I gave them 
 three, and the Greenlanders howled something ; tlie 
 dogs howled more. They filled away for the south, and 
 we sent our blessing with them. ISTo, I did not feel 
 lonely. A man carries the middle of the world with 
 liim. The world is just as level, as hilly, as large, as 
 small, there as it is anywhere. The sea was all open at 
 the north, only the wind hauled a little more into the 
 
CHRISTMAS ISr ITAEEAGANSETT. l93 
 
 nortli. I did not like that then, but it proved an ad- 
 vantage, as you will see. 
 
 A good whale-boat like that will carry, with crowd- 
 ing, eighteen men. We were but three, with eight dogs 
 and with Jan's sled, which I laid bottom up over the 
 bow, and the dogs rather liked to crawl in underneath to 
 sleep. I liked to have them, for they are not very 
 sociable brutes, and they have few entertaining tricks. 
 1 had no reason for staying a moment at Douglas-Digges. 
 Jan and Hans were the most good-natured men-Fridays 
 who ever walked in salt-water to pack stores away. We 
 hauled and lifted, and got the bags and the little barrel 
 and the two boxes fitted to my mind, after some trial. 
 Then 1 stepped my little mast, Jan called in his dogs, 
 whipped the sulky ones, and 1 cast off ; she had been 
 fastened to a bowlder of basalt which had rolled down 
 from the cliff, and the tide was on the flow. 
 
 I had rigged her with a leg-of-mutton sail — just as we 
 saw those boats at Huelva, George. Jan generally sat 
 forward on his sled. But I could tend the sail as I sat 
 in the stem. You know you steer a whale-boat with an 
 oar. 
 
 Well, you do not care anything about our log. But 
 the truth is that that day's success and the next told the 
 whole story. Days we call them. But really when at 
 midnight you have the sun nearly as high as our noon 
 sun is at Christmas, you do not say much about this day 
 or that day. Briefly, 1 cracked on, sometimes eight 
 knots an hour, as 1 sailed for forty-one hours. I could 
 not go quite to the north. Bat my boat sailed very well 
 into the wind. 1 soon got tired of holding an oar for a 
 rudder, and so did Hans, and we lashed our steering oar 
 to a davit and a cleat. 1 made very long tacks, running 
 once twenty-nine knots on the same course to the east of 
 
194 CHRISTMAS IN KAERAGAKSETT. 
 
 Dortli, and once fifteen knots and more to tlic west of 
 north. The wind came round to the west and south- 
 west. 1 thought then, and afterward I was sure, that in 
 those forty-one hours of that steady pull I made near 
 two hundred miles northing — that is, you see, nearly 
 three degrees. And, as I say, with that one long bit, in 
 less than two days from the Sarah, it proved that my 
 success was won — if it were success, after all. 
 
 Forty-one hours, on the whole, toward the pole, 
 brought me, alas ! to land again. 1 was afraid it was 
 land first, when 1 was taking the sun's declination, which 
 1 did every hour. I had, indeed, nothing else to do. 
 The sea was as dull there as it always is. I thought my 
 horizon was bad, and then with my binocular I became 
 sure it was not the sea. Sure enough, "lowland, and 
 all was well " — no longer. For when we came to that 
 beach our hard work began. 1 had brought rollers from 
 Upernavik, and when we beached her, heavy as she was, 
 we harnessed the dogs, and with their help we dragged 
 her high and dry, above any tide, ujpon a sort of dry 
 lichen there was, where we could see that deer had been. 
 To my horror, however, there was neither ice nor snow. 
 There was a low hill, but 1 got little comfort from the 
 prospect at the top. 
 
 Here, you see, I ^ras about five degrees, say three 
 hundred and fifty miles, from the pole, and I and two 
 men and eight dogs were to travel there and back in, 
 say, twenty-five days. It was as if you had to go to 
 Syracuse and back, from Boston, with no road. The 
 vehicle was a large two-handed boy's sled — not what you 
 call a double-runner, Dick, but twice as wide and twice 
 as long as your clipper-sled — rigged with a pole for two 
 men to haul at. But the land coast ran sheer east and 
 west, and I would not lose even a day by cruising along 
 
CHEISTMAS IK KABBAGAN-SBTT. 195 
 
 either way. Right over the lichen 1 started due north, 
 harnessing the dogs to drag, and taking enough canned 
 food for ten days for me and Jan and Hans. If tlie 
 guns would not do the rest, why, we must come back. 
 
 Awful work that first day, and the second ! We 
 made only twenty-three miles north in both. Then we 
 came to the strangest flat steppe there is this side of 
 Siberia, ankle-deep in lichen, where never tree or bush 
 grew. The sled flew over it as it would over rough 
 snow. If we had not watched those brutes they would 
 have dragged it away from us and mankind. At last we 
 took turns in riding, merely to keep them back after 
 they fed. Fed ? Yes. They had blood and fat and all 
 things they liked, more than was good for them, for the 
 deer would stand to be shot. They were no more afraid 
 of us than the paroquets were of poor Cowper. Their 
 tameness was shocking to me. As for fire, the only 
 trouble was to keep from setting fire to too much of this 
 lichen, and so setting the north half of the world in a 
 blaze. This lucky hit lasted us three full days more. 
 We could not keep at our work ixiore than eleven hoiirs 
 a day ; but in those eighty hours, more or less, we did 
 make nearly a degree and a half of latitude. When we 
 came to the sea again we were two hundred and fifty 
 miles farther north than man had ever been known to be. 
 
 But we did come to the sea. And now we had no 
 boat, and it was quite too cold to swim far — that is, the 
 water was. I had no quarrel with the air. Happily the 
 tide was out, the beach was wide, and the coast trended 
 north-norjth-west, a point west. How well I remember ! 
 Over the beach sand, though we were dead tired, I 
 forged on, fairly running the dogs, for I knew this sand 
 gave easy dragging compared with what the upland was 
 beginning to be. The lichen had given out, or was giv- 
 
196 CHRISTMAS IN NAKBAGANSETT. 
 
 ing out, and there were loose stones, as there had not 
 been before. That was Tuesday, as 1 well remember. 
 Till Friday night, I know, we ran the dogs, or made 
 them work all through the hours of low tide, six, and 
 sometimes seven. Five or six hours at high tide we all 
 slept — and I tell you the dogs slept sound — on the up- 
 land. No trouble about their eating or ours ; only a 
 monotonous bill of fare. Seals galore ! a stupid seal at 
 every headland, and lying on the shore in herds or flocks 
 sometimes, so that they were fairly in the way. Ton 
 do not like train-oil, Clara, because you always see it 
 rancid ; but in the open air, warm from the blubber, if 
 you had been walking and running a week, you might 
 fancy it. 
 
 That coast is just like the Jersey shore. It is flat as 
 your hand, as we say. There is one stretch where we 
 ran almost due north thirty-six miles, if the sextant did 
 not lie. In those days between Tuesday and Friday I 
 made more than two degrees. Still open sea on the west 
 of me. If I had only had my whale-boat ! But I did 
 have the dogs, and they were as well as horses — are said 
 to be. My horse is always sick. 
 
 It was that lucky bit of beach — beach hardly broken 
 by a creek or inlet— which gave us our last success. 
 Sometimes we had to go into the water knee-deep at 
 some inlet, and once I went in as high as my armpits. 
 That time it was a carry — when we floated the sled, and 
 swam the dogs, and took the bags and boxes and the 
 barrel in our arms. Bub the hard run afterward 
 warmed us very soon, I can tell you. 
 
 And now, if you have counted, you can see we were 
 near half-way. I mean we were near the pole — and the 
 pole was, of course, half-way back to Douglas-Digges. 
 By my last three declinations, when I came into camp 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 197 
 
 that' Friday night — night we called it — in broad sunshine, 
 I was only twenty-four miles and a little more from the 
 pole — twenty-one minutes of latitude, Dick, if you are 
 particular ; quite as close, that, as the vernier of my 
 sextant would read for me. 
 
 But here the shore began to trend west, and even 
 south of west. I had been conscious for some time that 
 1 was running up a bay like Chesapeake Bay, and I was 
 now near the head of it. I fed the dogs on the last seal 
 we had killed — you knock them on the head with an axe, 
 Harry — and we all got into our bags for sleep, I a good 
 deal excited now as to the issue. Before supper was 
 done it had clouded over. I was glad I had made my 
 observations. When I took the sun at noon — -which was 
 after we camped — I had staked out a north and south 
 line. By this I tested my compass, which pointed about 
 south-south-west. The variation was 152° south. So 
 untrue is it that the constant needle points to any pole — 
 but its own. 
 
 When I waked in the morning it was snowing, and my 
 bag had six inches of snow on it. Yes, Clara, you sleep 
 in a bag of felt, inside a bag of canvas, inside a bag of 
 India-rubber cloth. After you are in the bag you but- 
 ton it up over your head, with only a little nose-hole for 
 air. So it does not much matter whether it snows or 
 not. I rolled Hans over Jan and waked them, and ex- 
 plained that we were to leave their dear sea and cross the 
 land again. Hans said we should find deer, but I 
 doubted. I only told them both that we had not far to 
 go. Nor had we. Eough it was, very hard it was, 
 while the snow lasted. But by noon this cleared away, 
 and at six I let them camp. There was old snow, and 
 in an hour they had built a snow hut under the lee of a 
 hill. We slept like bears, and the next day, Sunday, 
 
198 CHKISTMAS IK NAERAQANSETT. 
 
 there were but eleven miles, as I counted, between me 
 and the pole. 
 
 I let Hans, who had hurt his foot, stay in the hut with 
 the dogs. 
 
 The sun had come out again. The world was white 
 with new snow. 
 
 I was almost provoked that the country was so unin- 
 teresting. 
 
 It was not fiat. 
 
 It was not mountainous. 
 
 There was no great cup in the midst of which a pole 
 rose high to the sky. 
 
 There was no sugar-loaf, like the peak of Teneriffe, 
 rising in my horizon northward. 
 
 There was only a vulgar rolling country, beautiful as 
 new snow is always beautiful, but as little varied — well, 
 as that stretch is between Tobolsk and Smilkelsk, if you 
 take the lower road. 
 
 I bade Jan take his gun, and put in his pouch a can of 
 beef. For me, I carried nothing but hard-tack and 
 cartridges. 
 
 It was Sunday morning. 
 
 Up and down. Not a tree, not a bush, not a rock, not 
 a sound, not a beast, not a bird. I was sorry we had 
 not worn our snow-shoes. But Jan drew the empty 
 sled ; he was sure we should strike a deer. 
 
 Up and down. North, still north. One hour, two 
 hours, three. About eleven I called a halt. I ate two 
 or three biscuits, and gave Jan as many. 
 
 Why was 1 so hopelessly sleepy ? 
 
 Half an hour's rest ; and as I was rousing myself I 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAKEAGANSETT. 199 
 
 saw poor Jan, without an apology, drop bodily on the 
 ground and go to sleep. 
 
 It was not cold enough for him to be stupefied. Why 
 were we so sleepy ? 
 
 On the whole, I thought I would leave Jan. He had 
 cleared the snow to the ground. And I covered him 
 with a heavy bear-skin he had upon the sled. My march 
 was now less than an hour. I knew he would sleep till 
 I came back again. 
 
 North for the last tramp of all ! 
 
 I took the sled with me. 
 
 As I pulled up a long slope there is, just before you 
 come to the pole itself, it seemed to me that I should 
 die with sleep. Still, of mere will power, I pressed on 
 until I turned the summit, and looked still north. 
 
 A wide flat plain a hundred feet below me stretched I 
 cannot tell how far away. Perhaps a mile and a half 
 from me a black spot. Was it a man ? The binocular 
 settled that. It was a man, and he was lying on a sled, 
 asleep. 
 
 Bat for me, had it been the angel Uriel, I could not 
 have gone to him. I was dead with sleep. I just re- 
 member having sense to unroll my bag, which I carried 
 as a knapsack, and crawling into it, and then 1 was at 
 once unconscious. 
 
 How long I slept I do not know, but it must have 
 been hours ; that I knew afterward. 
 
 When I awoke I did not know where I was. But I 
 heard snoring. The bag was not buttoned. I had been 
 too sleepy. 
 
 I pushed my head out, and at the moment a man fell 
 heavily to the ground at my side. He had fallen asleep 
 as he sat watching me. 
 
300 CHEISTMAS IN NAREAGANSETT. 
 
 He was in the winter costume of Northern China — a 
 fur cap, a fur pea-jacket, trousers of deer-skin. I had 
 seen hiindreds of such traders on the Baikal. 
 
 It was Myself — my Other Self ! He had come to 
 meet me ! I was wholly prepared to speak to him. 1 
 cried to him in these words : 
 
 ki But he heard nothing ; he lay like a log. 
 S^^ I shook him. I rolled him over. He only 
 ^ groaned in his sleep. But it was as if he were 
 g^p^ dead — only he breathed. Then I remembered 
 
 ^ how I had been sleeping ! I remembered how 
 
 l^f stupidly Jan was sleeping ! 
 
 "^ Could it be ? — it was — that Jan's other self 
 ,_^ was three miles south of ns, on the opposite meri- 
 dian ! 
 
 And I ? and Kaolin ? Of course he must sleep while 
 I waked ; I must sleep while he waked. This was the 
 basis of the whole journey. 
 
 No one had ever thought that one soul could carry on 
 two bodies at the same time. Of course, then, we could 
 not talk to each other. 
 
 All we could do was to write, and await an answer. 
 
 I wrote in my best handwriting, in Chinese, this 
 note : 
 
 " My brother — nay, myself ; I see you are well. My 
 name is Frederic Ingham. What is yours ? What grief 
 that we cannot hear each other's voices, or see each 
 other's eyes !" 
 
 Then I crept into my bag, and forced myself to go to 
 sleep. I did not sleep long. When I woke there was a 
 note in my hand, which said : 
 
 " I am called Kan-schau. My rank is of the blue 
 button of the province of Fi. I am the government in- 
 spector of furs. May your waking be joyful !" 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSBTT. 301 
 
 I think he saw the situation, and poked me hard as his 
 last conscious act. But this made no difference. I 
 should have waked, of course, as soon as he slept. I 
 had with me "Wells's Smaller Dictionary, and I made out 
 most of what he wrote. Then I bethought me what I 
 should say. What did I want to say. What do you 
 ever want to say in a letter ? Of course he knew what I 
 was, and I knew what he was, for I was he, and he was 
 I. So far there was no needto write. 
 
 As for the inspection of furs, I cared nothing for that. 
 Nor did he care, I think, much about my home-mission 
 work in District K. 
 
 It seemed a pity to talk politics. As to fine art, I did 
 not know the Chinese words for "realistic," or " pre- 
 Eaphaelite." 
 
 It is not the first time that, having an opportunity to 
 address a friend, I found that I had very little to say to 
 him. 
 
 What I did was this — always a good thing to do : 
 I opened my can of beef, which I had taken from Jan, 
 and placed under it a bit of hard-tack. I wrote : 
 
 " Feed yourself from my stores. Eat of my bread and 
 meat. If only you might sit with my family at my 
 table ! But, alas ! our destiny forbids." 
 
 Then I crept back into my bag, counted ten thousand, 
 and imagined a flock of sheep jumping over a wall, until 
 I lost myself in slumber. 
 
 I woke to find this note : 
 
 " I am made new by your bounty. Eat of my last 
 bird's nest. It is indeed life to death, and strength to 
 faintness. We must now turn our backs on each other. 
 But I leave a guide for your instruction." 
 
 Dead asleep I found him, but this message, and a 
 
203 CHRISTMAS IN NAKEAGAKSETT. 
 
 Cbinese envelope with his Chinese address, were in his 
 hand. 
 
 I fastened in a parcel a volume of my essays, a small 
 flask of cordial, and a picture alphabet for his children. 
 I wrote my address on an envelope, and on the parcel I 
 placed a card with this : 
 
 ' ' We shall not soon meet again. 1 shall rejoice in 
 your joy, 1 shall sorrow in your sorrow. Polly, my 
 wife, will gladly hear of the welfare of yours. Fare- 
 well." 
 
 1 left it in his hands, but as I did so that horrid drowsi- 
 ness came over me. I fell ; but waked to find, in a sort 
 of pigeon English, this billet by my side. 1 was alone. 
 
 " By-by. Top-notch muchee good for him all the 
 ways. By-by. Two Lapland men behind this Kan- 
 scliau. Muchee-muchee, him go and help them. By- 
 by." 
 
 Could my gold-chop Chinese be as bad as his English ? 
 The prints of his feet in the snow were clear enough. 
 But he had gone. 1 looked at the sun, which was near 
 noon when I left Jan, and it was now quite on the other 
 side of the sky. I looked at my watch, which Bond had 
 made for me, for safety's sake at this point, and had 
 arranged for it a dial of twenty- four hours. It was half 
 past twenty-three o'clock. Poor Jan had been asleep 
 twelve hours, or had waked to find me gone. 
 
 I retraced my own steps, and found him just rousing. 
 1 knew one of Kan-schau's Laplanders was going to sleep 
 at the same moment. 
 
CHIlISTMi*S IN KARRAGAlfSETT. 203 
 
 Jan never knew how long he slept. In three hours 
 more we had joined Hans, and with two snow-rabbits 
 which he had knocked over, and a few specimens of 
 Grassus inequalis which he had killed for the dogs, we 
 all feasted. We all slept twelve hours. 1 suppose Kan- 
 Bchau was making a long pull home. 
 
 1 have never seen him again. 
 
 It was pitchy dark when Ingham finished his some- 
 what ghastly story. 
 
 His wife rang for lights and tea. 
 
 Mrs. Frechette thanked him cordially. 
 
 "Ingham," said Haliburton, "why did your man 
 Kan-schau travel north instead of south ?" 
 
 "I suppose," said Ingham, "that he wanted to see 
 me as much as I wanted to see him." 
 
CHAPTER Vlll. 
 
 But the next day was the day before Christmas. 
 
 Little story-telKng was there, and little story-reading 
 in the evening. There was private conference in every 
 bed-chamber — there were conferences behind screens and 
 in corners. There was a separate wagon-load of presents 
 sent over to Kingston, to take the midday expresses each 
 way. And the " mail rider" when he passed — it was 
 " late mail " — had an enormous enlargement of his load. 
 It was arranged that Santa Clans might select from an 
 enormous mass of presents in the gray parlor, five for 
 each stocking. For the rest the morning of Christmas 
 Day was to be devoted, before the graver Christmas 
 service. 
 
 And here, though one hates to drop an hour even, one 
 must. The list of the presents — could it not be made as 
 entertaining as Homer's catalogue of the ships ? But 
 there were so many. Everybody gave presents to every- 
 body. Nay, there were even presents to the cats and 
 dogs and rabbits, who gave no presents in return. From 
 our house presents had been sent up to the colonel's. 
 And by agreement with our house we were to breakfast 
 there, and the presents to us were in the gray parlor, 
 always saving Santa Claus's selections for the stockings. 
 Easy is it to calculate, dear Emma and dear Lily — who 
 have followed this little narrative from tlie beginning — 
 how many presents there were, and, if any description 
 were adequate, that it would fill full one of the larger 
 
CHRISTMAS IN" NAEKAGASTSETT. 205 
 
 yolumes of the Standard Library. For the colonel's 
 own family were eight, besides Mary May and John 
 Eising, who were visiting the children ; the Frechettes 
 and Menets were four more ; Ilahburton, Hackmatacif, 
 and Carter were three, and their wives three more. At 
 our house we were seven of ourselves, beside four guests. 
 Tou see, therefore, that Mrs. Ingham had at her Christ- 
 mas breakfast party thirty-one persons. Each of these 
 gave a present to each other. This alone made 930 ; to 
 rabbits, cats, and dogs there were, say, 11 ; then to the 
 Sunday-school children, on the gray parlor tables, there 
 were 57 or thereabouts. The total is 998. And it is 
 the list of these, arranged and commented on — what they 
 used to .call in France a Catalogue Kaisonnee — which I 
 have determined to omit, after fit consultation with the 
 publishers. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the neighbors' children were to 
 come for their Christmas frolic. These are what Pau- 
 lina Ingham calls the Sunday-school children. 
 
 It is the pleasant and primitive custom of the 
 colonel to hold his own Sunday services, in the simple 
 habits of his church, in the large gray parlor at Sybaris. 
 All the neighbors know they are welcome on Sunday 
 morning, and they gather, now a dozen, now half a 
 dozen, according as there are or not services more to 
 their minds in the various meeting-houses of the king's 
 province around them. Paulina has made friends with 
 so many of the children that they have fallen into the 
 way of coming up to the house Sunday afternoons, sing- 
 ing hymns as she plays the accompaniment on the piano, 
 and then listening as Paulina reads to them a story, or a 
 bit of history, or a chapter of the Bible, or a poem 
 which will do them good, or' most likely all of these to- 
 gether. It is this group, of all ages, who were called the 
 
206 CHRISTMAS IN KAKBA6ANSETT. 
 
 Sunday-school children, and Mrho are to come at noon 
 for their Christmas service. A pretty gathering it was. 
 The old Quaker names, the old historic Rhode Island 
 names — names which run back as far as Coddingtons and 
 Hutchinsons — ^were there, and you might almost fancy 
 among the Wantons, and Hazards, and Perrys, and 
 Wagers, that you had stepped back two hundred, or, at 
 least, one hundred, years. 
 
 We oldsters gave way while the colonel, and Polly, 
 and Paulina, and the rest, in their easy hospitality, made 
 the children feel at home, and at last seated them. 
 Then Paulina read to them this little story : 
 
 EAST AND WEST. 
 
 It is a young husband and his wife riding through a 
 bleak country — up hiU and down dale — after sunset. 
 The hills are cold and the valleys are damp ; but the girl 
 (who is a girl yet, though she is a wife) is brave, and 
 even cheerful. She holds her donkey up to his work by 
 her loving talk to him ; and, as she tells her husband, 
 her steed gets on quite as fast as his does, with all his 
 beating ; for they are on a single track, she following 
 him, that he may make out the way more safely in the 
 darkness. Now a loose stone, now a slough, muddy as 
 the Slough of Despond, puzzles the beasts, and drives 
 the man to desperate measures. Sometimes the puzzle 
 even stops the jackasses, who, after all, have to pick out 
 the way. But with her it is all the same : " Do not 
 beat him ; do not scold liim. It is no fault of his. We 
 will now soon be there." 
 
 And she spoke true, if "there" meant the hill-top, 
 from which they should see the city. Twenty times had 
 he promised his girl wife that with the next hill they 
 
CHKISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSETT. 307 
 
 should see the lights of the town, and twenty times there 
 had been no lights, only the same black, ungracious sky. 
 But that is a long lane which has no end ; and at last the 
 wished-for sight appears — a beacon here, rays of light 
 there which showed the front of a palace. This time 
 poor Balaam was not beaten. His driver said, cheerily : 
 " Look up, you brute ! Did I not tell you so ?" And 
 down the hill Balaam almost broke into a trot, followed 
 readily by bis more fortunate companion, with her 
 lighter burden. 
 
 But they were not yet to take off their armor. " Lit- 
 tle luck to the late, ' ' says a proverb ; and so they found 
 it. Quarters at the great houses there were none ; quar- 
 ters at the tradesmen's houses there were none. People 
 just like these travellers, and people much grander than 
 they, had been coming to the fair all day ; and every inn- 
 keeper was driven to his wit's ends, so that nobody had 
 a word for such insignificants as they. After a dozen 
 rebuffs, and when an hour was gone, the girl for the 
 twentieth time proposed her plan to her husband. He 
 had passed through all the stages of disappointment and 
 effort, to the other stages of abject depression and 
 solicitation, and was now in the lowest stage of silent 
 despair : 
 
 " Dear old man ! Do let us go to my uncle's," she 
 said. 
 
 "Go to your uncle's ? It is two leagues, if it is an 
 inch. And you riding since ten o'clock, sick as you are. 
 Child, you will be dead before then !" 
 
 " Never fear me," said the girl, bravely. " I am not 
 to die to-night, nor to-morrow, nor the next night. 
 When my time comes to go to our Father, He will let 
 you know. If you want to please me, we will leave 
 these inhospitable palaces, and we will go to my uncle's. 
 
208 CHRISTMAS IIT NAEKAGAlfSETT. 
 
 He will not be so hard. If he has two crusts, we shall 
 have one." 
 
 " As you say," said her husband. And into the dark- 
 ness they fared again — well forward in the night now — 
 away from this heartless, graceless, inhospitable, cruel 
 town. 
 
 Up hill, down dale, up hill, down dale, as before. 
 One furlong, two furlongs. At first they could see 
 white stones which marked these distances ; but soon the 
 girl saw nothing. She really fell asleep, or so nearly so 
 that she did not note the passage of time. Her husband, 
 too, was now too drowsy to complain ; and so the three 
 hours which nearly come to midnight crept by, after a 
 fashion which seemed shorter to them than the one hour 
 before, while they were questioning and waiting in the 
 bustling town. At last he gave the glad cry : " Here 
 we are !" and the girl started up, and roused up her 
 faithful Jezebel to new activity. One long pull up hill, 
 one long waiting while they waked an old woman to tell 
 them , their way ; and so they came to the rambling, 
 tumble-down ranch — the rough collection of weather- 
 worn buildings indicated as their uncle's home. Then 
 came one more wait ; for everybody in the village had 
 been ia bed long ago. Bat it did not last forever. The 
 fat old uncle came blundering to the gate at last. He 
 found the bolt and drew it open. He led the two asses 
 into the courtyard, and then first learned who his late 
 guests were. He had never seen his niece since she was 
 a baby ; and, if he had seen her yesterday, he would not 
 have known her, under this heavy shawl and veil, wet 
 with fog and even touched with frost in places. The 
 girl had to explain her relationship and to introduce her 
 husband. 
 
 "And now to think !" he said. " Wherever shall I 
 
CHBISTMAS IS NARRAGAKSETT. 209 
 
 put you ? Thomas and his people came only this after- 
 noon. They are in the women's-rooms, and I must not 
 wake them. Cousin Ben and his sister and his children, 
 they had been here since breakfast. James's children 
 are all in the summer parlor. We made them beds on 
 the floor. My children are in my bed. 1 have a rug on 
 the floor. "Would you mind — just to-night — if I shook 
 down the straw for you here, while your wife goes in 
 with Anna and Euth and Naomi ? Then in the morning 
 the boys shall clear out what we call Duke Joseph's bed- 
 room. That will just do for you ; but to-night it is full 
 of bags of olives waiting to go to the mill." 
 
 The poor girl, who had been so brave before, shud- 
 dered now for the first time. 
 
 " Don't think me foolish," said she, "but I do not like 
 to part from my husband. We have never been parted 
 so far ; and we will not begin to-night. I am a country 
 girl, you know. 1 am used to straw, so it be only clean. 
 Nice barley-straw ! What can I ask better ? And you 
 need not bring your shawls or rugs. See what great 
 wraps my husband has. " 
 
 So she let her uncle lift her from the saddle, to which 
 she was fairly shaped by these twelve hours of journey. 
 She could not even stand without help. And he led her 
 to the end of the horse-trough, that she might sit on it. 
 He stumbled out his new apologies and suggestions ; but 
 the girl was firm. Her husband had long since ceased to 
 . have opinions, or to urge them. Great heavy rugs were 
 brought in by the servants of the households. The trav- 
 eller's own great rolls were unbuckled. The barley- 
 straw was piled in great heaps at one end of the vaulted 
 room, and the shawls were laid over it. And here the 
 tired girl lay down, and hoped for sleep, which did not 
 come. 
 
210 CHRISTMAS IK NAREAGANSETT. 
 
 For it was thus and here that, after the brave struggle 
 of that day, Mary brought forth her first-born child in a 
 stable ; and so they laid Him in a manger. 
 
 Glad, and proud, and happy — as she sank at last to 
 rest when they told her that her child was well and that 
 she need not fear for Him — she was lulled to her sleep 
 by a song of shepherds outside in the courtyard. They 
 sang gently, but so gladly : 
 
 " Glory be to God in heaven ! 
 
 Glory be to God ! 
 Peace to men on earth be given I 
 
 Glory be to God ! 
 "Welcome to the blessed boy. 
 In glad tidings of great joy. 
 Tidings from the angel throng 
 Of peace on earth in heavenly song. 
 Singing in their sweetest strain 
 Peace on earth ; good will to men. 
 
 Glory be to God !" 
 
 So Mary went to sleep ; and they told her afterward 
 that the roiigh shepherds who had sung this welcome 
 song to her baby had been brought in, one by one, and 
 had seen Him in His manger cradle. 
 
 It was on the twelfth day after that Puke Joseph's 
 chamber had been cleared from the olive sacks, chairs 
 from the parlor had been brought to it, a bedstead and 
 curtains from the house, mats and rugs from all the 
 neighbors ; and now, for the first day after the baby was 
 bom, the old nurse, who had adopted poor Mary-Mother 
 as her own, let her sit at the open door, wrapped in an 
 Edomite shawl, to look down into the courtyard. It 
 was always a stirring scene. Children playing ; farmers 
 coming in to trade ; the servants washing dishes or skew- 
 ing meat in the kitchen ; here a jackass tethered, and 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 311 
 
 there a horse ,• such a place is far more picturesque in all 
 its surroundings than the work-places of our mechanical 
 life. And every room in the old ranch looked out upon 
 the courtyard or down upon it. 
 
 Of a sudden an outburst of excitement, and man, 
 woman, and child desert the square, rush out into the 
 street, through the gateway, and Mary and her baby are 
 left alone. The change had been wrought by the small- 
 est boy of the household, Jehu. He had done it by 
 twenty words. Jehu had been in mischief this morning, 
 as, indeed, often before. This time he had been sent o£E 
 in disgrace. Exiled thus from his brothers, he had 
 sauntered down the hill, wondering what his hand might 
 find to do, on a cold winter day, when, of a sudden, he 
 saw a train of. Edomite travellers approaching. So it 
 was that he rushed back with the cry : 
 
 " Camels ! camels ! Ten camels and three dromeda- 
 ries. They have passed Nahum's tower on their way." 
 So it was that every brother and sister, and every servant 
 and visitor followed him. 
 
 To the girl, as she sat there proud and happy with her 
 wonderful boy, the silence was a relief unspeakable. 
 She is alone now, for the first moment since that dread- 
 ful night, when for an hour in the streets of Jerusalem 
 she felt so wretchedly alone. Always some one had 
 been at her side, with this act of kindness or that of ser- 
 vice — needful, perhaps, certainly well-meant ; but then, 
 without meaning to, they separated her from her God. 
 Her husband could just guess at her thought and her 
 feeling. She could just press his hand. But with old 
 Dorcas at one side, and old Aunt Eachel at the other ; 
 with the nurse asking this question, and twenty neigh- 
 bors coming with good wishes, she could not have the 
 comfort of her treasure. Now she began to live, that. 
 
212 CHRISTMAS m NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 in this fresli air, with this open heaven, she had Him, so 
 beautiful, so wonderful, in her arms. 
 
 Not for the first time, but for the first time since she 
 was in Bethlehem, the girl sang aloud, in a strain which 
 angels might have leaned to hear : 
 
 " My soul doth magnify the Lord. 
 My spirit doth rejoice in the good God who saves me. 
 He, from His heaven, looks down on His handmaiden lowly ; 
 And from this day forth men shall call me Mary, the blessed." 
 
 So sweet and pure were the tones, that even the group 
 of children were hushed by them, who at the moment 
 were rushing into the courtyard. Most of the little ones, 
 indeed, were moving backward, so that they had not 
 seen the singer, before they heard her song. They were 
 a sort of herald in advance, to announce and to honor 
 the procession wliich followed up the street. But now 
 they turned, in admiration, to know what was the angel 
 voice which sang so triumphantly. They ran eagerly to 
 Mary, as she sat in the open doorway of her room, look- 
 ing down from the corridor upon the court. They 
 begged her, in their pretty way, not to cease in her 
 singing. But at the moment, the train they were herald- 
 ing and had already forgotten, began to enter under the 
 gate. A tall camel bent his ugly head, that the cross- 
 bar might not strike it, and the leader, as he saw the 
 child and the mother, turned eagerly to his master, who 
 rode, and pointing to the boy, cried ; Hoah ho ; Behold, 
 it is He. 
 
 In a moment the rider had sprung to the ground. In 
 another moment he was upon his knees, and offering the 
 salaam of Eastern homage, as if he had found his king. 
 
 All was uproar for a few minutes. Other camels 
 entered the hospitable courtyard. Other riders in their 
 turn sprang from their saddles, and joined the chief who 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 213 
 
 had led tliein in eager expressions of gratified joy. Nor 
 was it till Joseph, the husband, and Heli, the uncle of 
 Mary-Mother, arrived, overtaking the swifter troop of 
 riders who had passed them, that the chieftains who had 
 entered could make their presence or their purpose clear. 
 For ages upon ages, they said, in the East, far beyond 
 Jordan and the Eed Sea, they had been taught, that a 
 King was to rise, who was to be a Prince of Peace and 
 Saviour of mankind. When He should come they did 
 not know. Only this they knew, that such a prince had 
 been promised by Moses whom Ishmael and Israel feoth 
 reverenced, centuries and centuries before. He had 
 bidden all the East watch till this King came, with God's 
 own power. To learn the place of His coming, and the 
 time of His coming, they had studied the stars. They 
 knew that in Moses's time, the greatest planet, Jupiter, 
 the star of power, and the red planet, Mars, the star of 
 Mngs, and the cold planet, Saturn, the star of wise men, 
 came together for once in the heavens. They knew they 
 parted then, and had never all come together again till 
 now. But in this fated year, only a few months before, 
 these three great planets — silver, red, and gray^ — had 
 drawn together again in the sky, closer and closer, till 
 they well-nigh touched each other ; and this was in the 
 sign of Dagon, the fish, the patron star of Philistia. 
 Token enough was here to bid these three princes mount 
 their camels far away in the East, and travel from day to 
 day to Palestine, to learn what Moses's people there 
 might know of this new-born King. They crossed 
 Edom, the starry wonder still before them. They 
 crossed Jordan, and saw it still. Shall we go to Jerusa- 
 lem to Herod, the most cruel of kings ? The stars are 
 not over Jerusalem ! They sent two messengers to ask 
 at Jerusalem, " Where is He that is born King of the 
 
214 CHEISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 Jews?" and Herod was enraged with the messengers. 
 But the wise men said, " The King is to be born in Beth- 
 lehem of Judah. " 
 
 " They showed ns old Scriptures to show it must be 
 so. And when our messengers came back to us, far out 
 in the desert yonder, we were well pleased ; for the 
 three stai-s were hanging over the fortress and the house 
 here as we came near. As the sunrise paled them, our 
 last sight of them was as they hung over this caravansary 
 where we are. 
 
 " Then we made our camp, and sent a messenger into 
 the village to know in what house a King was born. 
 And our messenger has said to us that it is in this house 
 only there is a new-born child ; and we have come to 
 honor Him." 
 
 So saying, the gray old sheikh from the desert bade 
 his dragoman open the bale with which the first camel 
 had been laden. 
 
 "Lady," he said, "we know what is becoming for 
 ambassadors. We have brought our offerings. These 
 bags of myrrh are the purest which ever left Arabia. 
 Oar virgins have gathered it with their own hands. 'No 
 mean laborer has prepared it. It comes to you as the 
 gifts of daughters of kings." And the old man stepped 
 on one side. 
 
 Then came forward Balthasar, who seemed to be in 
 higher honor ; and he renewed his salaam with more 
 formality than before. 
 
 " My gift," he said, " is frankincense for the temple 
 of my Lord. It has been brought by the sons of the 
 chiefs from every sacred glen. They have gathered it 
 with their own hands ; nor has it once been touched by 
 a slave." And he stepped on the other side. 
 
 Then slowly came the chief of the three, with his ser- 
 
CHRISTMAS IS NAEEAGANSETT. 315 
 
 vants following. "With difficulty he bore a casket of the 
 leather of Yemen, bound with clasps of steel. He bade 
 one of his attendants turn the key. And lo ! the casket 
 was full of golden darics of the old coinage of Cyrus 
 himself. 
 
 " Lady," he said, " we have called ourselves the chiefs 
 of the desert. But we know what is due to the Prince 
 of Peace. And this is our tribute." 
 
 The proud mother could only say : 
 
 " He hath exalted those of low degree. 
 He bids the princes bend from their thrones." 
 
 Joseph, her husband, made fit reverence to the princes, 
 and asked his kinsman to make them welcome. Heli 
 was eager, with his sons and his servants, to give that 
 evidence of welcome which is better than words, as they 
 unloaded the tired camels, as they brought water for the 
 strangers' feet. The women, with such haste as they 
 might, went to their kneading-troughs and ovens to pre- 
 pare a feast. Heli sent out Nahum and Ami to kill two 
 sheep and a young goat. And they sent in haste to their 
 aged kinsman, Menna, the most devout of the elders of 
 Bethlehem, and quite of the highest rank. 
 
 And when the feast was spread the old man blessed it 
 in prayer to the good God — who had sent the princes so 
 far in quest of truth. 
 
 " Blessed is the Lord my strength." 
 He said : 
 
 " He hath sent princes from Edom, and He hath sent -wise men from 
 
 afar. 
 He sent His messenger before them, and the stars sang together to 
 
 praise Him. 
 Serve Him with gladness, and come before His presence with sing> 
 
 ing. 
 Ye shall hallow your gifts as ye sing praise to Him. 
 
216 CnEISTMAS IN NAERAQANSETT. 
 
 Ye shall feast in His faith when ye make gifts to the poor. 
 
 Ye shall scatter broadcast in the sowing, and His hand shall give 
 
 the harvest. 
 And He that taketh and He that'giveth shall join hand in hand. 
 
 "My children," he said, "this day binds us of the 
 West and their friends from the far East as one house- 
 hold. They eat of our salt, we bum of their incense. 
 This child, who brings us together, shall be called indeed 
 the ' Prince of Peace.' 
 
 " And from this day through all time the season of 
 His birth shall be the great festival of joy. 
 
 ' ' The kings of the earth shall bring offerings, and the 
 little children shall give presents, and all men shall 
 praise the God of heaven, who sent the kings of the East 
 to do honor to Him who was born in a manger. 
 
 " And to be Prince of Peace, see he has giv«n us a 
 Httle child." 
 
 And after they had feasted, the princes and their ser- 
 vants, and Heli and Joseph and the mother and her 
 child, all blessed the Lord and all slept. 
 
 And before morning a vision came in the night to the 
 leader of the princes that he should go back to his own 
 country by another way. And with the first light of the 
 morning the chiefs girded their loins and packed their 
 camels and departed. And the like was never seen in 
 Bethlehem again. 
 
 Then Colonel Ingham stood up by the piano, and said 
 to the children : 
 
 ' ' Ton know these are the shortest days in the year. 
 Last Sunday was shortest of all. If you had looked you 
 would have seen the shadow of the sun was longer at 
 noon than it has been any day, because the sun was 
 lower in the sky, and had his shortest journey that day. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 317 
 
 " It was on that shortest day of all that the poor 
 storm-tossed Pilgrims landed. That is the reason that 
 we celebrate the landing at Plymouth Kock. No one 
 celebrates the landing of the prosperous lords of Massa- 
 chusetts Bay. They landed on the longest day of the 
 year — on St. John's day — but nobody cares for that, or 
 celebrates that. 
 
 " And 1 am sure you all know that Christmas cele- 
 brates the coming of the great Light in the midst of the 
 great darkness. ' The people that sat in darkness saw a 
 great light. ' 
 
 "You see, there are three anniversaries to Yankee 
 children — Forefathers' Day, the Shortest Day, and 
 Christmas Day. And of all these, the central lesson or 
 sentiment is the same. 
 
 THE THREE AKNIVERSARIES. 
 
 " Short is the day, and night is long ; 
 But he who waits for day 
 In darkness sits not quite so long, 
 
 And earlier hails the twilight gray — 
 A little earlier hails the ray 
 That drives the mists of night away, 
 
 " So was this land cold, dead, and drear, 
 
 When to the rook-bound shore 
 That Pilgrim band, Christ-led, drew near, 
 The promise of a new-born year. 
 Twilight, which shows that even here 
 The son of gladness shall appear. 
 
 The land be dark no more. 
 
 " So was the world dark, drear, and wild. 
 When on that blessed morn 
 A baiby on His mother smiled. 
 The dawning comes, the royal child, 
 The Sun of life, is born. 
 
218 CHKISTMAS IN NAEKAGANSETT. 
 
 " The lengthening days shall longer grow, 
 
 Till summer rules the land ; 
 From pilgrim rills full rivers flow — 
 
 KoU stronger and more grand. 
 So, Father, grant that, year by year. 
 The Sun of Kighteousness more clear 
 To our awaiting hearts appear. 
 And from His doubtful East arise 
 The noonday Monarch of the skies. 
 Till darkness from the nations flies ; 
 Till all know Him as they are known, 
 TiU all the earth be aU His own." 
 
 The smaller children were beginning to be restless. 
 But the colonel reads well, and he held their attention 
 well enough to the end. Then, without much order, 
 they were led into the red parlor, where the curtains 
 were drawn close, the blinds shut on the outside, and 
 their presents arranged on a Christmas tree — the first, I 
 think, seen in the Narragansett country, unless Canoni- 
 cus hung presents on some yellow pine for his babies. 
 And after the wonders, and after John Rising had ap- 
 peared as Santa Clans, to a treat for them all in the din- 
 ing-room, and as the afternoon began to decline, they 
 scattered and went home. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mes. Meket thanked Paulina for her little story, and 
 then told, assisted by Mrs. Frechette, and with the sym- 
 pathy of an occasional blush from Theodora Decker, the 
 story of their Christmas in a palace only the year before. 
 This story is familiar to this reader, or should be. 
 
 " "Why do not some of you professional story-tellers 
 make us up a Christmas book of eighteen stories, -which 
 should lead us, step by step, from Miss Paulina's pretty 
 beginning down to these days we remember ?" 
 
 This was Mr. Menet's question. 
 
 The colonel was well pleased. He said he had had 
 the plan on his mind for a long time, and, sooner or 
 later, had written several stories which would belong in 
 that series. The nineteenth-century one was taken from 
 real events in Washington, and may still be remembered 
 by the faithful as the story of " Bread on the "Waters." 
 Half way back, in the midst of Peter "Waldo's time, was 
 the story which we called " In His Name." '•' It first 
 appeared," said Colonel Ingham, " as a tale told to Sun- 
 day-school children in twenty minutes. But it interested 
 me, and I went to Lyons, and all over the rough coun- 
 try of Father John's ride, to gain the local color. 
 
 " There are one or two more of them in the desk 
 yonder. " 
 
 Then the ladies began to ask him to read one of them ; 
 and though Ingham had vowed he would have no more 
 
330 CHKISTMAS II?- NAEEAGANSETT, 
 
 reading of his stories while the party lasted, he was over- 
 persuaded, and read 
 
 THE COTTAGE ON THE VIMINAL. 
 
 She stepped out of the roadway, that the string of 
 mules might pass by her. It was the longest of these 
 long strings which had passed yet. The beasts pressed 
 on with an indifferent air, as if they could take no notice 
 of a miserable biped, who was fool enough to travel on 
 foot. Their bells sounded musically enough, but the 
 poor woman was too tired to think of music, or even to 
 notice the contempt of the animals. 
 
 At the end of the train were the two muleteers, who 
 had all the beasts in charge. The older of the two saw 
 Sophia, as she slunk back into the heavy clump of lau- 
 restinus on the roadway, and had heart enough to see as 
 well that she was A'ery pale — though the sunshine was 
 warm^ — and that the blue lines beneath her eyes were of 
 the very blackest blue. This he saw as his own gay 
 steed clattered past her. He drew up suddenly, and 
 spoke hastily to his companion : " Stop the brutes ; 
 presto — now !" 
 
 Luke uttered a queer whistle, and then shouted a 
 queer " wh-who-oa," which was entirely understood by 
 all the males ; and, in half a minute, the whole proces- 
 sion was still. Horace turned in his saddle, turned his 
 gay mule as well, bowed civilly to the poor travel-stained 
 Avoman, and said as civilly : 
 
 " You seem tired, mother, and this is an ugly hill be- 
 fore us ; if you would ride — my white beast yonder — ■ 
 Clara has carried an empress before now." 
 
 If the cloud above her had opened and dropped roses 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAKKAGAKSETT. 321 
 
 on lier, the poor traveller could not have been more sur- 
 prised. 
 
 "But T am no empress," she said; and though she 
 tried to smile, she spoke sadly. The words themselves 
 were good enough Latin, but Horace saw, as he had 
 guessed from her costume, that she was no Italian, and 
 that these three or four words were all strange to her. 
 The man took on all the more tenderness. 
 
 ' ' Ah, no ! There is but one empress, and she, as I 
 happen to know, is beyond Milan ; for Clara yonder 
 took her much of the way thither. But, if you like it 
 better, Clara has carried mj dear mother, oftener than 
 she has carried the empress. It was the dear old woman 
 who taught her that dainty step." And seeing that the 
 poor traveller looked her thanks for this unexpected 
 charity, he bade Luke, who was awaiting the call, to 
 fasten a proper saddle on the beautiful creature. Then, 
 dismounting himself, he completed his courtesy by hft- 
 ing the woman to her seat. " All ready," he cried to 
 the groom. And Luke, with another shrill whistle, and 
 another yell, in the language intelligible to beasts, 
 started the train again. 
 
 For a few minutes, upon her luxurious saddle, poor 
 Sophia could not speak. Her face was flooded with 
 tears, and her very scanty Latin vocabulary failed in 
 words to express her thanks. Nor did this hearty, jolly 
 Horace need them, nor expect them. Our younger 
 readers will pardon us if we do not give the Latin sen- 
 tences, which they would find as hard to read as for him 
 they were easy to utter. He poured them out, more 
 with a feeling that he should relieve her if he kept on 
 talking, than with any care for answer. 
 
 " Steady, Clara, steady ! Hold the off rein a little 
 more firmly, mother. I said those same words to our 
 
323 CHRISTMAS IIT KAERAQANSETT. 
 
 sovereign lady — may the gods bless her ! — as we crossed 
 the bridge. Yes, yes. That is well. Oh, you are used 
 to riding, I see. Tes, yes. Clara knows you are used 
 to riding. Never fear Clara, never fear. She has as 
 sure a foot as any horse in Caesar's stables." 
 
 "No. Yes. You do not know — cannot tell. You 
 do not think how much I thank you. 1 am — my feet are 
 — I am so glad !" These words she stammered out after 
 a little, with an occasional mixture of the Spanish words 
 which were so much easier to her, and which came with- 
 out being called. 
 
 " Feet sore. Yes. 1 should think so, on those flints 
 beyond Claudius' s Forum. I sent for the roadmaster, 
 and I showed him Caesar's seal — there it is, if you never 
 saw it — and I said to him, that if when I passed by 
 again there were five flint stones as big as his thumb 
 nail on the road, he should be crucified. And when the 
 poor dog saw Csesar's seal, he was frightened, be sure of 
 that ! Foot sore ! I should think so." 
 
 And then the good fellow went chattering on, with 
 much that Sophia could not understand, with some ex- 
 planations that she guessed at. He had, in truth, been 
 sent with a heavy convoy of the smaller movable furni- 
 ture from one of the palaces, which had been selected, 
 at short notice, to complete the comforts and adornments 
 of a summer lodge a little beyond Milan, which the em- 
 press had selected as her home for the hot months. His 
 mules had done their duty, and were now clattering back 
 to Rome without any cargo. 
 
 It was this bit of good fortune which gave poor Sophia 
 her first friend in the great wilderness of Eome. Poor 
 soul ! She thought it saved her life, and perhaps it did. 
 
CHEISTMAS IK KAEllAGAKSETT. 223 
 
 She thought she could never have dragged herself over 
 those last twenty miles of roadway, with her feet bleed- 
 ing, one of her ankles badly strained from a misstep, 
 she hungry and faint, and conscious that she was fainter 
 as every slow milestone came in sight. But this jolly, 
 kindly Horace made everything different. At the inn 
 at night, he made the landlord and the servants under- 
 stand that she was not to be pushed aside, though her 
 clothes were torn. She slept on the first bed she had 
 seen since she left Spain. And in the morning he called 
 her to a breakfast such as she had not seen — poor, half- 
 starved creature — since then. 
 
 And why had she left it ? Ah me ! There is the sor- 
 row of this story. It was four months before, that her 
 only boy had left her, kissing her — oh, so tenderly — just 
 as they finished supper. She knew then and there that 
 something fatal was in the air. But she knew, also, that" 
 he would not tell what it was. She had asked too often, 
 and he had parried her question. The handsome, gay, 
 daring fellow had left her ! And all night he did not 
 return ! No, nor the next day, nor the next night, nor 
 the next, nor the next. He had never returned. 
 
 He was one of a secret club — a club which we should 
 now call " Young Spain.' ' And this night they were to 
 surprise a convoy of stores and arms on their way to the 
 lioman garrison. And with the arms, the leaders said, 
 they would establish a station of their own, and cut off 
 all the trains to the garrison. And so they were to 
 establish a Eepublic of their own, and Spain was to be 
 free again. 
 
 Alas ! for all this grand plan — the Eoman commandant 
 knew it as well as Ferdinand knew it — and Ferdinand 
 and his friends had not lain in their ambush an hour be- 
 fore they were all taken prisoners — and before the next 
 
224 CHRISTMAS IBT JfAERAGASTSETT. 
 
 morning they were all marched to Bareino. There they 
 were chained to the seats of a galley and made to work 
 their weary way to Rome. 
 
 All this had poor Sophia, Ferdinand's mother, slowly 
 made certain in the first bitter week which passed after 
 his capture. And now this long journey to Rome was a 
 proud, sad mother's enterprise — begun in the hope that 
 she might find her brave boy in the slave markets of the 
 great Babylon. So was it, that she entered that city, 
 riding on the white mule, which but three weeks before 
 had taken the empress on her last afternoon's ride to her 
 summer home. 
 
 And when they came to Rome, Horace's good-nature 
 did not forsake Sophia. No. She must not live where 
 his people lived. That was impossible. For, as muleteer 
 extraordinary, he was a dependent on the palace, and 
 must live on the slope of Palace Hill. But it was 
 Horace who persuaded a stupid, dull old woman, a 
 .cousin or second cousin of his father's third wife, to let 
 Sophia make her bed in the corridor of her house, for 
 the few days or weeks before she should find her son. 
 
 But Sophia never did find Ferdinand. Had she found 
 him, this story would never have been written. Nor 
 will we now stop to tell the steps by which first she 
 learned when the galley arrived ; then found which slave 
 market her boy had been taken to ; then, misery of 
 miseries, found which master of gladiators bought him 
 in the market ; and at last, poor wretch, worked her 
 way into the presence of this brute among men, and 
 from his own lips heard how her dear boy died in 
 the arena, trampled under the feet of an elephant, who 
 
CHRISTMAS IK KAEKAGANSETT. 225 
 
 had been goaded to madness first, and then was driven 
 into the amphitheatre with twenty others, upon a hun- 
 dred naked men, to kill them for the amusement of the 
 Eoman people. 
 
 Poor Sophia ! She dragged herself out from the pres- 
 ence of the vulgar wretch who told her the story. He 
 had given her clews enough to make it certain there was 
 no mistake. Indeed, Ferdinand, three inches taller than 
 most men, was not a person about whom there could be 
 much doubt. She would never see her brave boy again 1 
 
 Should she ever see Spain again ? She did not care ! 
 Why should she ? What had she left to live for ? She 
 had had her boy to live for, and her hope to see him 
 again. Now that hope was gone, and he was gone. 
 Rome or Spain, it was all one to her, if she must live ! 
 Why would no beast trample her to death ? Why would 
 not the eight horses before Cesar's chariot spring upon 
 her in the street and crush her ? Poor Sophia ! Why 
 must she live ? 
 
 And how must she live ? This old crone Sempronilla 
 did not scold a great deal when Horace told her she must 
 provide a straw bed for Sophia. To tell the truth, all the 
 straw for all her beds came from Csesar's stables, and a 
 good deal of the oatmeal for her polenta came from the 
 same region. But not any love for Horace, nor any fear 
 of his greatness, nor any hope of pickings from Caesar's 
 granaries would have made the old witch feed Sophia an 
 hour unless she were paid. And the little store of coin 
 with which Sophia started fronj Hispalis was long since 
 gone. And the last silver link of what had been the 
 neckla,ce her husband gave her when they were married, 
 had found its way to the silversmith's, the day after she 
 first set foot in Rome. 
 
 How should poor Sophia live ? 
 
236 CHRISTMAS IK KARKAGANSETT. 
 
 She went far out into tlie Campagna, and eyen beyond, 
 into the hills — farther than most of the lazy flower deal- 
 ers cared to do. She had platted for herself a large, flat 
 basket in the Spanish fashion. On' a mass of cool, wet 
 maidenhair below she had laid the pretty hill flowers and 
 covered them with more wet maidenhair, so that when 
 she returned to Rome they had all the freshness of the 
 morning full upon them. Most of them she left in her 
 basket at the street corner, but with two beautiful 
 bunches she stood at the door of the brothers Torlonii, 
 the great court jewellers, just as the elegant ladies, in 
 the course of their morning drives, stopped there to look 
 at the last new trinkets. One after another brushed by 
 Sophia, without even looking at her gorgeous anemones. 
 But of a sudden a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty stepped 
 out from the shop. She wore, as a sort of scarf, a broad 
 ribbon, which Sophia knew was woven in Hispalis, her 
 own home. Not in the hard Latin now, but in her deli- 
 cate Iberian language Sophia said : 
 
 ' ' Will you look at my flowers, beautiful one ?" 
 
 " Look at them !" cried out the other, with delight, 
 " look at them — I will look at them and at you all day, 
 if you will only speak in our dear Spanish to me. I 
 have not heard such beautiful words — no — for too many 
 years. And your beautiful flowers too — sweet mother ! 
 Who sent you to me ?" 
 
 Sophia blushed, and stammered her answer. The 
 great lady drew a ring from her finger and gave it to 
 her, took the two bunches, and told her to bring her 
 more on the second day of every week. Sophia knew 
 now what the word " week" meant. As the East con- 
 quered the West, the division of time into weeks was 
 more and more known in Rome. 
 
 And what the Lady Elvira had said to her, and had 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAEKAGAKSETT. 227 
 
 done for her, lifted for the time one of her cares. 
 This ring, with its great pearl, was of such worth that, 
 as Sophia knew, it would make her a rich woman in the 
 eyes of the old crone, Sempronilla. Starvation was not 
 to be the death she should die. But alas ! she was more 
 lonely than ever. That Spanish voice, and the pretty 
 Spanish words had been enough to remind her of the 
 deadly separation, which parted her, here in the midst of 
 crowds, from all her race. She was glad she had seen 
 the lady ; and yet she was crying with bitter tears be- 
 cause she had seen her. She did not try to sell more 
 flowers that day. She took her flat basket, and, as 
 she could, stumbled toward home. But she did not 
 go far. 
 
 For she knew she was faint now. She remembered 
 that she had eaten nothing but a few olives since she left 
 Rome, at what we call three in the morning, for her 
 flowers. She must have walked twenty miles since then, 
 and now it is high noon. Poor Sophia ! she tried to 
 remember a short cut home across the edge of the Yimi- 
 nal Hill. She was puzzled more and more. Her poor 
 weak head swam. Was she going blind ? The trees 
 themselves spin round. ' ' Mother Yesta ! help me, ' ' 
 and she fell in a dead swoon upon the roadway. 
 
 On the instant a little girl sprang from the porch of 
 the cottage she was passing, and finding that she could 
 not even lift her head, called : 
 
 " Mamma, mamma !" 
 
 Mamma came, and called Alexander, a tall stripling of 
 fourteen. The three lifted and dragged poor Sophia 
 from the street, and laid her in the shade on the veranda. 
 Sophia rallied as they did so, and tried to speak. 
 
 " You are faint, my sister ; will you sit in our door- 
 way ? Bring a cup of water for this traveller. " 
 
3;J8 CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAGAN-SETT. 
 
 The first words of love my poor stranger had heard 
 from her own sex since she left Spain. 
 
 " Maria ! bring water for her feet ; she has been 
 walking all day." 
 
 The first act of such tenderness since she left her 
 home. 
 
 And as the little girl with tact and tenderness minis- 
 tered to her, tlie tears fiowed from her dry eyes again as 
 they had flowed the niglit she parted from Fernando, on 
 the eve of that foolish fray. 
 
 " And who are you, who have such welcome for a 
 Stranger ?" 
 
 "We know no strangers. We are all brothers and all 
 sisters." 
 
 " We !" Who could we be ? 
 
 This welcome was the beginning of a new life to our 
 poor Sophia. No. The Greek woman in the pretty 
 cottage — who spoke Latin almost as badly as Sophia did 
 — would not let her leave the cottage all that afternoon. 
 And, when night came, and the poor Spaniard began to 
 speak as if she must go back to the old hag Sempronilla's 
 house, Phoebe put a veto on it all. " Why should you 
 go ? You say she cannot speak your pretty language. 
 Tou do not pretend that it is home. She will never care 
 for this sore ankle as well as I shall do. She will never 
 arrange your pretty flowers as my little Mariadion has 
 done. You do not dare call it home, after what you 
 have told me of her surly ways." 
 
 " And what right have I here ?" stammered out poor 
 Sophia, half in Spanish, half in Latin words. 
 
 Phoebe laughed as if she did not understand ; nay, 
 perhaps did not, but only guessed. 
 
 " Oh, it is a way we have ! We shall be lonely with- 
 out you. See when they come in to supper whether we 
 
CHKISTMAS IN KARKAGANSETT. 229 
 
 do not need your Spanish voice. There is my little 
 Mariadion, half Latin and half Greek ; there is the boy 
 Lucas, from Cyprus ; I do not know what you call him ; 
 then we have the girl from Carthage, whom you will 
 call so pretty, and my brave little harper from Alexan- 
 dria. Indeed, indeed, we should not do without a Span- 
 iard. And, 1 forget, here are my two tall Britons." 
 And two young men, strangely alike in face and figure, 
 entered as she spoke. 
 
 ' ' Indeed, indeed, " sobbed out our poor Sophia, as 
 well SB she could, " if I did as I chose, I would never go 
 away." 
 
 So easy as this was her introduction into Phoebe's 
 haphazard family. That day she rested. The next day 
 Phoebe would not let her go into the Campagna. "No, 
 no," said the resolute, tidy, vigorous little woman; 
 " wait till to-morrow, and then our little Mariadion shall 
 go with you and help you with your basket. You shall 
 take turns." 
 
 Sophia herself had learned to dread the future. So it 
 was — she knew not how — that, without questioning fur- 
 ther, from day to day she fell into the life of the pretty 
 Viminal cottage, as if she had been born to it. The tall 
 young Britons, so gentle and sympathetic and tender, 
 seemed to her like motherless sons, whom she might care 
 for in place of her own boy. ISTahum, the Cypriote 
 lad, would try his new songs with her, and beg her to 
 tell him—" to tell him true" — whether he sung quite up 
 to the pitch of his little harp on the higher notes. And 
 well pleased was he, indeed, when she would join him in 
 that rich contralto, and in that pretty foreign accent in 
 which all her words were sung. And so it was with 
 them all. She had not been there a week, before each 
 inmate of this strange party had made her feel that she 
 
230 CHRISTMAS IK NAREAGAH'SETT. 
 
 was wholly necessary to tliem all. As for paying any- 
 thing to Phoebe for the bed she slept in, or for the food 
 she ate, that was out of the question. Phoebe made end- 
 less fun of any such proposal. But Sophia found very 
 soon many ways to save Phoebe's steps, and to relieve 
 lier from care, work, and anxiety. She fell into the way 
 of making her own contributions of fruits or of other 
 food to the stores which provided the simple, ample 
 table. One great victory, as autumn drew on, was her 
 arranging so that one of Horace's muleteers brought in, 
 from far away on the Carapagna, a cheese which Sophia 
 had bargained for, and had paid for week by week, as 
 she passed the farm in her flower-gathering. 
 
 And what was the magic of the cottage on the Vimi- 
 nal ? What was this secret spell which bound all these 
 people together, people of so many races and even lan- 
 guages ? 
 
 Sophia had not been there a day before she caught the 
 first clew to it. The first night at supper she saw that 
 they all gathered together at the table, men with women, 
 and this alone surprised her a little, though she had 
 known this done before. But Maria and her mother, 
 and Cleopatra, too, bore themselves in a more easy way 
 than poor, frightened Sophia was used to. They bore 
 themselves more as if they were companions, and not 
 slaves, to the men. Slaves, clearly enough, they were 
 not to anybody. The men served them at the simple 
 table quihp as much as the women served the men. 
 They all stood an instant in perfect silence at the table 
 before any one either sat or reclined upon either of the 
 cpuches. Sophia rightly guessed that this was some 
 secret rite of worship to some god. "When the supper 
 had begun, Nahum, who was next her, filled the earth- 
 ern cup from \vhich she drank. He had not spoken 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 231 
 
 to her, nor did she know his name, but the handsome 
 boy bowed with a serious smile, as he poured the water, 
 and said : 
 
 " IN HIS NAME." 
 
 And Sophia saw afterward that no cup was filled, or 
 passed from one to another, without this same smile and 
 legend, which clearly enough made of the simple act a 
 sacrament. 
 
 The truth is, that Sophia had stumbled and fallen just 
 before a Christian church. The cottage on the Viminal 
 was, practically, a little church, such as Paul refers to 
 when he says, "The church in their house." On the 
 Lord's day the diflEerent friends whom Sophia met there 
 would go early in the morning to some gathering, where 
 more like them, of like joy in life and like faith in 
 heaven, assembled for thanks and worship. But all of 
 this little company would have called the cottage of the 
 Yiminal their church, for the cottage and its home activ- 
 ities represented to them that common life which makes 
 the life of the church wherever it is found. Each helped 
 each, each loved each ; but that was not enough, nor 
 was it all. Each was on the lookout, as the day went 
 by, to see where he might help others. So it was, that, 
 when the poor Spaniard had fainted in the roadway, 
 Pli(Ebe took the incident as a divine direction that she 
 was to be the ministrant to the stranger's needs ; and her 
 little Molly — for Molly is the English for Mariadion — 
 fell in, quite of course, with her mother's notion. 
 
 As for worship, it was many, many months before 
 Sophia even went with them to the place of their Sun- 
 day oiiering. Then again it was long before she thought 
 even of counting herself as one of them. We must now 
 tell, in as few words as we may, how she earned for her- 
 self the joy of full participation in their company. 
 
232 CHRISTMAS IK KAERAGAKSETT. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The summer and the hot autumn had drifted by. 
 Sophia thought more and more of her new companions — 
 less and less now of her old friend Horace — and hardly 
 thought at all of the old hag Sempronilla. But one 
 evening she was suddenly roused to think a great deal of 
 him. She was listening to Nahum's rattle at table one 
 night, when, from quite the other end of the room, she 
 caught the words, spoken quickly and with excitement : 
 
 " it was so mean. Horace had been his friend ; 
 
 gave him the first ass he ever beat, and now the viper 
 turns on him." 
 
 Sophia listened with all her ears. She hushed !N^a- 
 hum's nonsense with a hasty gesture, and, in a moment, 
 heard so much to interest her, that she crossed the room 
 and drew the two speakers into a corner. One of them 
 was the Briton Edgar, and the other a black man whom 
 he had picked up on the quays where they worked, and 
 had brought into the company. 
 
 It was her Horace, our Horace, of whom they were 
 speaking. And this, of which they told, was a mean 
 plan to forestall him, perhaps to ruin him. The hot 
 summer over, the empress was on her return. Horace, 
 as a matter of course, would have had charge of the con- 
 voy — but the lady had determined to change her route, 
 and come part way down the Adriatic by water. A 
 rival in the carrier's business had learned the imperial 
 plans from a coiirt favorite, and by a daring but not 
 difficult intrigue, he had arranged ingeniously, that two 
 days off from Rome the lady's route should be varied, 
 under the pretence of a visit to some old Etruscan tonib, 
 just open. She was to come out above Cures, while 
 poor Horace with his mules was waiting at Mandela. It 
 
CHRISTMAS IJf STAER.IGASSETT. 233 
 
 would be easy at Cures to give the impression that he 
 had been careless. At the instant of disappointment this 
 rascal Narcissus was to be ready with an elegant cortege 
 of animals. The empress was to be delighted with the 
 equipage, and Horace was to be disgraced. 
 
 " 1 went round to tell him, on my way back," said the 
 black, " as soon as this drunken dog blurted the precious 
 plan to me. But he had gone, Lucas had gone. The 
 stables were all shut. I got a beating for my pains from 
 a Jictor on duty. I went to tell his wife, but they 
 would not let me into the house, and said she was at 
 some mystery." 
 
 " Where had Horace gone ?" asked Sophia. 
 
 " Gone ! he had gone on his business. He had start- 
 ed early, that he might have a full day and two nights at 
 Mandela to rest the mules. And so soon as his back was 
 turned the whole crew of them had left the stables. ' ' 
 
 "Mandela!" 
 
 " Yes, Mandela. 1 knew he said Mandela. It is 
 somewhere in the Sabine Hills." 
 
 " I know Mandela," said Sophia ; " you get a glimpse 
 of it through the valley from the ^svian Hill. Maria- 
 dion and I climbed there one day." 
 
 On the instant her resolution was taken. She whis- 
 pered no word of it, not to Nahum, not to Mariadion. 
 She was still shy. She was afraid, indeed, of being hin- 
 dered. She bade them good-night. She went to her 
 little cell, for cell it was, rather than room. But she 
 only entered it to change her dress and prepare for a night 
 tramp ; and in five minutes she stealthily left tlie cot- 
 tage, unnoticed by any one, and in half an hour more she 
 was on the great Tiburtine way. Night or day, she 
 would overtake Horace with her news, if she died the 
 moment after she told the tale. 
 
•234 CHRISTMAS IN NAKEAGANSETT. 
 
 It was night already. For a November evening had 
 come on. But it was starlight. How fortunate that she 
 had kept the house all that day ! No ! Not fortunate. 
 What a tenderness in the good God who had kept her. 
 Sophia breathed a word of thanks to Him aloud. She 
 looked up eastward at the bright stars. She wondered 
 in which of them her dear boy was at home. For she 
 had come to believe in the belief Phoebe had inspired in 
 her, that the dear fellow was somewhere. Noisy crowds 
 of pleasure-seekers coming back late from the country 
 rattled by her. But after an hour there was little of 
 such company. One by one the lights faded out from 
 the cottages of the Campagna. But the stars did not 
 fade out. How still it was ! How desperately lonely it 
 was ! But Sophia pressed on. She did not dare to ask 
 herself if she were tired. 
 
 There was no danger of her losing the track. The 
 perfect engineering of the Romans led this road straight 
 and high above the Campagna, so that she could not 
 have missed it. As she crossed the Anio, and heard the 
 heavy tom-tom of the late autumn frogs, she amused 
 herself with recalling the little Spanish rhymes which 
 children sang with these for the burden, and she soon 
 broke the silence by singing them aloud. After you 
 pass Cerbara there is not even a village, hardly a farm. 
 But this was all the better for Sophia. She remembered 
 a Spanish proverb which said: "Where there are no 
 sheep there are no dogs," and she knew she was more 
 afraid of dogs than she was of men, which was to say a 
 great deal. 
 
 But now she would have faced lions. 
 
 On and on ! Once she sat on a milestone to rest her- 
 self and fairly fell asleep. She waked, in falling from 
 her seat, so tired was she. Once, in a dark wood, per- 
 
CHEISTJIA.S IJT NARKAGAN'SETT. 335 
 
 haps a mile before slie came to Agrippa's hot-baths, 
 three howling wolves ran across the road, so near her 
 that she could have struck one of them with a stone. 
 But fortunately they were more afraid of her than she of 
 them. 
 
 And then the road began to go down hill, and Sophia 
 fairly ran. She knew by the starlight that midnight 
 had long passed. And there was light enough now from 
 a crescent moon which had worked its way up in the east 
 to reveal the roofs of the bath-houses. What she had 
 not expected was there also — moving light. Something 
 had waked the sleepers. All the better for her ; there 
 would be some one to tell her — what she had not yet 
 learned — how long since Horace and Lucas and their 
 train went by. And at last, as she tiirned the corner of 
 the public bath-house, a coffle of mules, a noisy crowd 
 of grooms, a lantern here and a lantern there, and then 
 Lucas himself, and then Horace ! 
 
 On so little a pivot as the hour of his starting from 
 the hot-baths turned Horace's life. On that, and on the 
 loyalty of this brave Spanish widow. She called him on 
 one side. She told him her story. She was able to con- 
 firm it by details which brought conviction to him as he 
 listened. At all events, he could be ready for either 
 event. ^ " Little mother, you have saved me from the 
 galleys." Then he was sorry he had said this, for he 
 knew what the word " galleys" meant to her. " Little 
 mother, I would rather every beast in the stables died of 
 horse-ail, than have failed to meet our lady. ' ' 
 
 New tidings, new plans. Happily, his coffle of beasts 
 was extra large. He divided it and sent Lucas on to 
 Mandela, according to the first plan. Himself he took 
 the beautiful mule Clara, and a train large enough for all 
 the ladies of the imperial party, crossed the hills by a 
 
336 CHBISTMA8 IK NARRAGANSETT. 
 
 by-path cf wliich the bath-house people told him ; gave 
 the go-by to Cures, where his mean rival was waiting, 
 and passed the night among some charcoal men in a high 
 glen, on one of the spurs of the mountain. 
 
 The next morning, on a lovely bit of greensward, 
 shaded by ilexes, his whole force awaited the empress's 
 coming. He had been warned of it by a scout. He 
 stepped forward and saluted the dignified chamberlain. 
 
 ' ' 1 thought our lady might be tired of her litter, and 
 be glad to change for the saddle," said he. 
 
 The chamberlain, well pleased, trotted back to the 
 litter, and announced that the relay had appeared. 
 
 The great lady, glad to change her posture, walked a 
 few steps on the greensward, and said, gayly, " Why, it 
 is my own dear Clara ! How I have wanted her all 
 summer !" And as Horace held the stirrup for her, 
 " My good fellow, I have not forgotten you, nor your 
 nice Clara. When wo are in the city, go round to my 
 steward and you will see that I remember you." 
 
 Horace knew enough to bow without speaking. He 
 reserved his moment of triumph till half an hour after, 
 when the whole imperial cortege passed through Cures 
 without stopping, and he was able to ride up to his spite- 
 ful rival, whom he saw at the court-yard of the inn, and 
 ask him what business brought him so far from Home. 
 
 "How did you dare do it, little mother ?" asked the 
 boy JSTahum, with admiration, when, the week after, 
 Horace had come round to thank Sophia again, and to 
 tell the whole story of her heroism. 
 
 " "We have a Spanish story," said Sophia, who now 
 spoke Latin quite fluently, " that the tints lent corn to 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSETT. 237 
 
 the sparrow when lie was starving. And the sparrow, 
 in his turn, waked the bullfinch when the cobra was 
 climbing the tree to steal his eggs. And the bullfinch 
 called his mates and they sang a song to the queen when 
 she was sorry. And the queen forgot her grief, and 
 sent a load of corn to the army. So, our story says, the 
 ants fed the army." 
 
 " And our story says," said Phoebe, " that if we bear 
 each other's burdens we fulfil the whole law of Christ. 
 But to-night, dear Sophia, you have another task before 
 you than to go to the hot-baths. See this strip of parch- 
 ment from the Lady Elvira. ' ' 
 
 " Let the flower-woman bring me a basket to-night. 
 I want the basket, not the flowers." 
 
 This was what she wrote. In truth, she wanted not 
 flowers, nor basket, but Sophia herself. She wanted 
 some one to whom she could speak, without fear of 
 eavesdroppers. 
 
 "Dear mother," she said to Sophia, even while her 
 unconscious maids were sitting round her ; ' ' dear 
 mother, you know these Christians. Phoebe, yonder, in 
 your cottage is one of them. The old man, Eleutherius, 
 is their leader — overseer they call him. Plow can you 
 bring liim and me together ? No ! do not seem sur- 
 prised. These girls must think we are talking of the ivy 
 you shall send me for the mysteries." 
 
 Sophia said that though she had seen Eleutherius she 
 did not know his residence even. But one of the boys 
 would know, and would bear a message to him. 
 
 "Dear mother," said the eager Elvira, "ever since 
 the day I came to your Yiminal cottage — since I sat and 
 you platted the wreath for my beauty here — since I saw 
 the little girl watch her mother so tenderly, and that 
 saint care for all so sweetly — I have been under the spell. 
 
238 CHRISTMAS m NARKAGANSETT. 
 
 " Dear mother, my brother is in Egypt. 1 sent there 
 for their books — their Christian books ; my brother 
 would die for me ! 
 
 " Dear mother, 1 laiow them by heart. I can pray 
 with your prayer ; 1 can hope with your hope ; I know 
 every blessed parable of the Master, and I have taught 
 them all to my beauty, to my Julia there. 
 
 " Dear mother, I would have no secret from these 
 girls, but that J ulius thinks harm might come to your 
 dear old overseer if in the palace they knew that the old 
 man had been seen here. " 
 
 For her husband was a high officer at court. 
 
 " Dear mother, I send to you that you may go to 
 Eleutherius. Tell him I will meet him in any cave 
 or catacomb. Morning, noon or night I will meet him ; 
 I and my husband. I chose that you should tell him, 
 because you are the messenger our Father chose to bring 
 me to Christ." 
 
 " 1 ? 1 ? I the good God's messenger ?" stammered 
 Sophia. " How can that be ?" 
 
 " Mother of mine ; dear mother," said the impetuous 
 lady, " did not I see, week by week, your face more 
 sweet, and your torture less bitter ? Did I not see the 
 darling girl who came with you, an angel of tender love ? 
 Did 1 not see that you and she had the Secret of Life, 
 which 1 had not found in the palace, had not bought 
 with my jewels, had searched for vainly in travel, nay, 
 could not discover wholly even in my love of my hus- 
 band and my worship of my child ? And then, dear 
 mother of mine, as I tell you, when I went to the Yimi- 
 nal Cottage and there saw love divine, love first, love 
 last, love everywhere, then I knew how I could gain the 
 treasure too ! 
 
 " Mother, dear ! That was a blessed day for Ju- 
 
CHEISTMAS IN NARRAGANSETT. 339 
 
 lius and for me — when you first brought me your 
 anemones. 
 
 " Mother, dear, you will go to your overseer ; you 
 will ask him to meet me at the Viminal. Let him teacli 
 me ; let him question me, and let him baptize me — me 
 and my darling, and my brave husband." 
 
 She was fairly sobbing now, and poor Sophia was sob- 
 bing, too. 
 
 She went home, wondering how it was that she should 
 summon Father Eleutherius to the baptism of the noble 
 lady, when she had been too humble herself even so 
 much as to think if she were fit for baptism. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," she said to Phoebe, when she told 
 her story, and told her of this wonder, also ; " 1 am 
 nothing and nobody. If only I can do something for 
 the others — if only I can help — it is enough." 
 
 And here it is, really, that this story begins, just where 
 it ends. 
 
 It was in an arched room, lighted with candles fastened 
 to the walls — a room made by the meeting together there 
 of three rock-hewn passages beneath Rome. A sarcoph- 
 agus of rock was on one side, on which was a loaf of 
 bread and an earthern vase filled with white wine. An- 
 other earthen vase was full of water. The old Eleuthe- 
 rius was there, the two tall Britons were there, Phoebe 
 and Maria were there, all our friends were there, 
 Horace was there, and Julius and his wife, the Lady 
 Elvira, who had the little Julia at her side ; and, of 
 course, Sophia was there. 
 
 And Eleutherius caUed Horace to him and said : " My 
 brother, do yon believe on the Lord Jesus Christ ?" 
 
240 CHRISTMAS IN NAKRAGANSETT, 
 
 " I will make Him the Master and Leader of my 
 life." 
 
 " It is enough," said Eleutherius, and he baptized him. 
 
 He called the little Julia, he called the Ladj Elvira 
 and her husband, and he baptized them. 
 
 Then he said, " There is one more. She has been 
 called from death unto hfe. In her exceeding sorrow 
 she has found exceeding joy. In the darkness of death 
 she has found the "light of life. The Lord has made her 
 His messenger to others. The Lord now folds her in 
 His own arms, and receives her. 
 
 " Sophia, dost thou believe in the Lord Jesus Christ ?" 
 
 " Father !" said Sophia, " he has been the Saviour of 
 my life." 
 
 And he baptized her. 
 
 It was her first Christmas festival. 
 
 " Picturesque times, indeed," said Paul Decker. " I 
 suppose you will say not more picturesque than these." 
 
 " Of course not, since this is the same world. But all 
 of us paint our distances — even our middle distances — 
 better than oi^r foregrounds. 'AH of us,' I say — of 
 course the princes do as they choose. Ruskin says that 
 Turner made his immortality out of the London fog, 
 which he had right around him. Most of us do not 
 know what to do with our east winds so well. Tou do 
 find a bit of every day in a modern cartoon, that will 
 be picturesque in the year 2000. 
 
 " Polly, if you will turn on in the portfolio, you will 
 find a Twelfth Night story, which will do for the fifth 
 century in Mr. Menet's book. The other gentlemen, or 
 ■you ladies, must ' brace up,' and give us two more be- 
 tween." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAERAGANSETT. 241 
 
 And, wholly forgetful of his rule, Colonel Ingham 
 told Bertha she might read the story of ' ' Next His 
 Hand." " Any way, the moral is good," he said. 
 
 NEXT HIS HAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE SIEGE. 
 
 This little story begins in the city of Orleans, in 
 France ; but it was not then called Orleans. It was 
 called Aurelianum. This name, by phonetic spelling 
 and otherwise, had become Orleans. 
 
 I shall call it Orleans for short. 
 
 Orleans, when the story begins, was besieged by 
 Attila, the Scourge of God, the terrible King of the 
 Huns. They had come from far-away Asia by the way 
 of Hungary, bringing with them their wagons and their 
 beasts of burden, even their wives and their children ; 
 and they were ready to take hold on any land they fan- 
 cied. 
 
 And Attila had bidden Orleans open her gates to him. 
 
 But Agnan, Bishop of Orleans, had said " No." And 
 just then what Agnan said was what was obeyed in the 
 city of Orleans. 
 
 The former governor of the town and country was a 
 king of barbarians, who had settled there a generation 
 ^ before, named Sangiban. But the bishop believed, and 
 probably believed truly, that Sangiban would surrender 
 the city to the savages, for he was not much other than a 
 savage himself ; and the bishop had squarely told Sangi- 
 ban that he and his might go about their business, and 
 that he and the people of Orleans would defend the 
 town. And Sangiban had e'en done as he was told, and 
 had gone. 
 
242 CHEISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 And so the bishop was left to do the fighting, as well 
 as the preaching. And he did it, and he did it very- 
 well. If he had not done it as well as he did, Orleans 
 would hardly be there to-day, and there would have 
 been no dukes of Orleans and no New Orleans. The 
 bishop had told the people as much as to say that if they 
 meant to have any city they must defend it. And they 
 had turned to, with might and main, and mended the 
 gates and the walls, and got their armor ready, and pro- 
 vided arrows and pitch-balls and kettles for hot water on 
 the ramparts. And they had driven into the city every 
 sheep and ox that they could drive, and had emptied 
 every barn and granary for ten miles round, and stacked 
 up hay and grain. And the bishop had hurried far away 
 to South-eastern France, and had told the Eoman gen- 
 eral that he and his would hold the city till the 14th of 
 June. If he could relieve them before that time, all 
 should be well. Then the good bishop came posting 
 back again ; and so it was that he was fighting and 
 preaching and preaching and fighting when the story 
 begins. 
 
 For Attila had come with five hundred thousand men, 
 and had shut up every way to the city, and watched the 
 river with his boats, that no one should cross there. 
 And, though the Huns did not like to attack stone walls, 
 and were better at fighting in the field, Attila made 
 ready his machinery — battering-rams and the like — to 
 beat down the gates, if he could, and to come storming, 
 in. He summoned Agnan to surrender. But Agnan 
 said " !No. " And he enrolled every man and every boy, 
 not to say every woman and girl, for the fighting and the 
 watching. Before the army of the morning went to the 
 rampai-ts they attended mass in the great church ; and 
 before the i-elieving army took their place in the evening 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGAKSETT. 343 
 
 they attended at a vesper service. The good bishop 
 gave them the sacrament every week, and led their 
 prayers, and bade them give God the glory. " You 
 shall not be destroyed," he said. " I have had a vision, 
 and I know." And people wonld come and tell him 
 that they could see a legion of men, covered with their 
 leathern shields like a great turtle, working slowly up to 
 the South-west Gate, and bringing with them, the heavy 
 battering-ram. And Agnan would only reply : " Never 
 fear, dear children. You shall not be destroyed. I 
 have had a vision, and I know." And if any became 
 impatient, he would tell them what the great Patrician 
 had told him — that by the lith of June the whole Eo- 
 man army should appear to defend them. " Only wait 
 till the 14th of June, and you shall see the glory of God. 
 You shall not be destroyed. I have had a vision, and I 
 know." 
 
 In all the city the people we have to do with are a 
 family of five — father, mother,, and three children. The 
 father is always at home. For on the very first day of 
 the work on the walls a heavy stone crushed his foot, 
 and he cannot walk. But his fever is ended, and he sits 
 and makes arrows for the boys. There are two boys (or 
 they are always called such), one named Constant and one 
 named Sebastian — -nineteen and seventeen years old. 
 And, besides, there is Honoria. She is seventeen. She 
 is a twin with Sebastian. One week Sebastian is in the 
 morning watch, and Constant in the night watch. The 
 next week the watches change, and it comes the other 
 way. The boys like the excitement of the parade. But 
 they find the sentinel's duty stupid. The minute Con- 
 stant is o£E guard Sunday afternoon he runs home, where 
 his mother has his supper for himi The boys will not 
 give up in the midst of war the duty of daily life in the 
 
244 CHRISTMAS IX NAEEAGAXSETT. 
 
 midst of peace. The bishop always, said that only he 
 who endures to the end shall be saved. 
 
 Now, it had been their duty once a' week to cross the 
 river, pass the ridge which parts Orleans from Sens, to 
 see their mother's brother in his cabin there, and to 
 carry him his supplies, and to bring back his messages. 
 He lived there all alone. He was the ferryman at the 
 river. He was a holy man, after the fashion of their 
 days. For he is not the holiest man who goes the most 
 to church. But perhaps he is holiest who is most alone, 
 if he does the most work for God. Yictor, the boy's 
 uncle, wanted to serve God ; and he had determined 
 that it was his part, winter and summer, day and night, 
 to keep this ferry ready for travellers. If there were no 
 travellers, he read the Gospel and the Psalm, or with 
 his knife carved crucifixes from holly-wood. He was 
 what was called an eremite, or hermit, or man of the 
 desert. 
 
 The boys said to their mother that not for forty Attilas 
 would they give up their regular weekly visit to their 
 uncle. And so soon as it was wholly dark on Sunday he 
 who was ofi guard would run down to the stream, wade 
 in silently, and paddle over the current to the other side. 
 He would watch the Huns' outposts carefully, till he 
 was well in the woods, and then, night or day, those boys 
 knew how to find the dear old hermit's cell. Before 
 morning the scout would be off again on his way back to 
 Orleans, and, with a pot of honey or a well-wrapped loaf 
 of bread, would be at his father's house and would take 
 a midday nap, to be ready for the bishop's vespers and 
 for his tour of evening duty. 
 
 A siege was a siege ; but not such a siege as we have 
 to-day. And so each week, through the siege, each boy 
 still did the duty that came next his hand. 
 
CHKISTHAS IS NAURAaAlfSETT. 245 
 
 •CHAPTER II. 
 
 "My dear sister"-^this was a letter of the hermit 
 ferryman to his sister—"! know how yon feel about 
 these journeys of the boys. But have no fear. 1 would 
 not ask them to come. Nor would you bid them go. 
 But, as Constant says, 'it is the duty next his hand.' 
 He did it in peace ; let him do it in war, so he does it as 
 a cheerful giver. If the Lord is against it. He will give 
 us a token. If the Lord did not wish it, I think the 
 brave boys would see it was wrong. Let them do the 
 work which they think comes next their hand. 
 
 "It is not by armies, or dukes, or patricians, not by 
 consuls or emperors, that the Lord conquers. It is by 
 the sling of the shepherd — by that Goliath is felled to the 
 ground." 
 
 And so the boys' mother held her peace, and made 
 ready every Sunday night the supper for the swimmer, 
 and wrote her cheerful little note to their uncle, and 
 prayed the good God to keep over all the outstretched 
 wing which had never failed so far. 
 
 But her faith and their faith was to be hard tested. 
 And hardest of all was it for her poor husband to sit and 
 split up the very floor of the house to make arrows for 
 the watchmen on the wall. 
 
 And at last the end came, and poor Michael chafed in 
 his confinement worse than ever. Five weeks of the 
 siege had ground by, and there was not word nor signal 
 from the Roman Patrician, Aetius and his army. The 
 fourteenth of June was hard at hand, the day on which 
 he had promised to be here. Once and again the Huns 
 had shoved their great battering engines toward the wall. 
 And once and again Agnan's sharpshooters, with such 
 arrows as Michael and the others made, had picked ofE so 
 
246 CHRISTMAS IW N-ARRAQAN-SETT. 
 
 many of the barbarians who worked them that the others 
 would not stand to the ram, and fairly ran away. But, 
 on the other hand, the Huns were trying their archery 
 too, and if any man appeared between two of the stones 
 on the top of the wall a long shaft struck him ; or two of 
 three at a moment, perhaps. So that the townsmen were 
 discouraged in their turn. Food did not fail, and while 
 there was the Loire there was drink. But courage 
 failed. And they paid less and less heed to the bishop 
 when he said : " I have had a vision, and 1 know." 
 
 The bishop raised the host and bade them march with 
 him around the ramparts. He took the sacred relics of 
 his church with him, and they sang hallelujahs as they 
 marched ; but none the less the number of faithless grew 
 larger. And at last the poor bishop was fain to choose 
 the very leader of the malcontents, and to say to him : 
 " Climb to the very top of the castle, you who are so far- 
 sighted, and see 'if the mercy of God is not coming." 
 And the people below watched the shifty fellow as he 
 climbed higher and higher, too high even for the longest 
 shafts of the Huns ; and everybody laiighed when the 
 cloud of their arrows fell too low. And they could see 
 the man standing on the topmost stone of all, and shade 
 his eyes as he looked to the south. Then he clambered 
 down, and he sheltered himself on the lee side when the 
 storm of arrows came ; and so he slid and jumped 
 briskly down, till the bishop could hear him. He had seen 
 nothing on the plains ; not even a cloud of dust. The 
 good bishop led the way into the cathedral, and fell on 
 his knees and prayed more ardently than ever. He said 
 to the discontented people: "Wait only two days." 
 And he sent out a soldier to the Patrician, to say : "If 
 you do not come this very day, my son, you will be too 
 late. ' ' The people 'svaited for the two days ; but the 
 
CHRISTMAS IIT NARRAGAN-SEXT. 247 
 
 soldier was never heard of again. Then the brave bishop 
 himself began to falter. He had asked for two days, 
 and he had meant to keep his word to the people. But 
 just at that moment the very windows of heaven opened, 
 and such a storm came as no man had heard of before. 
 Pelting rain for three days in the midst of June ; now 
 and then a storm of hail. The great battering-rams of 
 the Huns were washed from their road-ways, their tents 
 were all in confusion, and their very bowstrings were 
 soaked with the water. But the rain would not last for- 
 ever, and when the three days were over, and the sun 
 came out, and the poor bishop saw not even a moving 
 shadow on the southern horizon, he was fain to send an 
 ambassador to Attila, to ask for terms. 
 
 The barbarian almost struck the ambassador, and sent 
 him back to the town frightened to death. 
 
 The bishop felt that he was deserted within and de- 
 serted without. He determined to surrender at discre- 
 tion. He sent no more messengers to the Huns. But 
 at the break of day, after mass, instead of leading the 
 reliefs to the ramparts, as was his custom, he led them 
 to the gates, and he struck ■^vith his own hand the first 
 blow on the heavy bolts which held the doors. Then, 
 with tears, he turned to the armorers and bade them do 
 their work, and they flung the gates open. The Huns 
 on the outposts were amazed, but stealthily one drew 
 near, and another ; one came in, and another ; and they 
 could detect no ambuscade. They ran back to announce 
 their news to their officers ; and they in turn to the 
 king. "With every slow precaution the king and his 
 great officers came in. Agnan had all his men in hold ; 
 the Huns saw no man. It was as if they were in an 
 enchanted city. They brought in their wagons with 
 perfect order, and men detached for the purpose began 
 
248 CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAQANSETT. 
 
 to pile in the best booty from the houses. The great 
 army of the Huns was held by their chiefs without. 
 
 At this very moment the boy Constant came running 
 up from the river, dripping with water. He had come 
 from his weekly journey to his uncle. He sought and 
 found the officer of the day, who, as it happened, was 
 his own centurion, told him his news, and was led at 
 once to the bishop. The news was this : That as the 
 boy crossed the ridge he had climbed the highest chest- 
 nut tree he saw, and had looked southward and could 
 plainly see the march of the Patrician's army. He could 
 see the sunlight flashing upon the spears ; he saw them 
 all halt as they crossed a little river, and then saw the 
 crowd of light troops as they opened to the right and left 
 after crossing. 
 
 The bishop was in the cathedral. Hardly speaking to 
 the boy, he sang "Hallelujah;" and in a moment he 
 and all the people around him were singing praises to 
 God. Seizing again the host and pressing forward in the 
 procession, he moved straight to the great Place of the 
 city, where Attila sat in his chariot. 
 
 " Scourge of God !" cried the bishop, " 1 will be true 
 to you, as I have been. The eagles of tlie Patrician are 
 in sight from the hill." 
 
 Attila knew the bishop by this time well enough to 
 trust him. He sent aids on the instant to his southern 
 outposts. A message was not long in going and return- 
 ing on those swift Hungarian horses. Attila was too 
 good a soldier to stand an attack on his rear while his 
 men were plundering a city. The army was too well in 
 hand to be confused for a moment by his change of 
 orders, and the sun of that hot June day had only begun 
 to go down in the west when the last straggler with the 
 last tent was marching northward from the walls of 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAKKAGANSETT. 249 
 
 Orleans. And all the people gathered in the cathedral, 
 and bishop and priests in high solemnity sang praises to 
 God. And the people joined with them in singing : "The 
 Lord is my Strength, my Fortress, and my Deliverer. ' ' 
 
 Next day, in the evening, the Roman Patrician, 
 Aetius, rode into the courtyard of the bishop's house, 
 flung himself from his horse, and threw his arms around 
 the bishop's neck and kissed him. And the bishop 
 said : " We were at our last gasp. But that one of our 
 boys saw you from a chestnut tree, Attila would have 
 taken the very vessels of the host and the very drinking- 
 cups of our children, and we would not have had here 
 left one stone upon another. 
 
 " The blessing came to us because that boy, Constant, 
 did the duty that came next his hand." 
 
 CHAPTEB m. THE BBTREAT. 
 
 The Patrician Aetius and Torismond, king of the 
 Yisigoths, had led the allied cavalry of Pome and South- 
 ern- France far in advance of the rest of the army. 
 
 " I saw a vision in the night," said the' Patrician to 
 the bishop. " I could not sleep. I went to Torismond, 
 and he was awake. We called Theodore, and found him 
 in his armor. We mounted our horses and called a 
 trumpeter, and at midnight he sounded to arms. I can 
 tell you that the grass has not grown under our feet as 
 we came." 
 
 The dash of cavalry on the rear of the besieging army 
 would have been thrown back, but that it promised so 
 much more. But Attila knew that his superstitious 
 Huns were discouraged. He found his very prisoners 
 caught the rumor of battle, and with whatever arms they 
 could seize were breaking the heads of their captors. 
 
250 CHEISTMAS IK NARRAQAKSETT, 
 
 He found that the people of the town were barricading 
 the very streets against him. The people in the houses 
 were flinging down their chimneys upon his men. He 
 was in no position to deliver battle, with half his army on 
 one side of a river, hal^ on the other, and an angry town 
 and a fearless bishop in the middle ; and so, sulky and al- 
 most without a word to his ofBcers, he gave to every leader 
 the signal of retreat. As the great host passed over the 
 bridge, the Romans and the Groths dashed at them again 
 and again. But Attila's rear-guard knew their business 
 as well as the Patrician knew his, and at the end of the 
 day's fighting every living man of the Huns was gone. 
 But fifteen thousand dead bodies lay upon the ground. 
 As the Roman general supped with the bishop that 
 night, he said : " Bishop, it is tlie eighth day before the 
 Calends of July. ' ' Pie had, in truth, held to his promise. 
 This was the lith of June. 
 
 And the army of the Huns marched, sulky, almost to 
 the point of mutiny, all that night and all the next day. 
 King Attila never ate bread. As he lay on a heap of 
 oat-straw, watching his savage cook, who was brewing a 
 bowl of soup from horse-flesh, the commander of his rear- 
 guard came in himself with a prisoner. " We found 
 tills man," he said, "at the ferry- way yonder. We 
 staved his boats, after we had used them, and we have 
 brought him along." 
 
 The ferryman was the good old Victor. 
 
 "1 see by your dress," said Attila to the prisoner, 
 sternly, " that you are a priest." 
 
 " I am not a priest," said Victor. " I am an humble 
 ferryman." 
 
 " What is this cross, then ?" said the barbarian. 
 
 "It is the sign that I am the humblest servant of 
 Christ, the Son of the Most High." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KAREAGAlirSBTT. 251 
 
 The officer who had brought him in whispered to 
 Attila : " Priest or not, he is a prophet and knows the 
 future. All the peasants say so. ' ' 
 
 " Prophet, is he !" said the barbarian. " Then let 
 him prophesy." And he struck Yictor across the face 
 with the braided strip of hide he held in his hand. 
 "Prophesy to me! Am I beaten or am I victor? 
 Prophesy, I say ! Who am I who smite you ?" 
 
 Little did the barbarian know the weight of those 
 sacred words. 
 
 Victor did not so much as raise his hand to wipe away 
 the blood which spurted from his eyebrow. 
 
 " You are the scourge of God," he said. 
 
 " You are the hammer of God with which He strikes 
 down the faithless. " 
 
 "So I have been told before," said Attila, well 
 pleased. 
 
 " When God pleases," said the other, without paus- 
 ing, " He breaks the tools of His own wrath. 
 
 " When He pleases. He takes the sword from one of 
 His servants and gives it to another. 
 
 " He will crush you in this battle, that you may know 
 that power comes from God alone." 
 
 The words were hardly out of his mouth when the 
 officer who had brought him had sprang at his throat. 
 
 " Thy own guard waits ! Shall they flay him 
 alive ?"" 
 
 "No," said the king, as calmly as if a moth had 
 crossed the candle. " Take him along with that Bishop 
 Lupus you have yonder. Give them the same rations. 
 Such sacred people will do no harm to me or my army. " 
 And he smiled on the officer with that smile, so unlike 
 other men's, which all his leaders knew, but which none 
 of them could understand. 
 
253 CHRISTMAS ISr NAEEAGANSETT. 
 
 But, meanwhile, the ferry across the river in Cham- 
 pagne did not fail because Yictor had been carried away 
 by Attila. 
 
 " Let us do the duty next our hand," said Constant to 
 Sebastian, when they found the hermit's hut empty. 
 
 And with their own axes they cut down trees, and 
 with their own adzes smoothed them, and then corded 
 them together into a raft. Nor was it a week before 
 they had a long rope of thongs of hide stretched from 
 bank to bank, so that they could take men and women 
 back and forth, as they went toward Sens or toward 
 Orleans. 
 
 So they held to the duty that came next their hand. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. THE BATTLE OP CHALONS. 
 
 And now came one of the battles of the ages. Europe 
 is the Europe it is, America is the America it is because 
 that battle was so fought and because it ended as it did. 
 Attila had only withdrawn his hosts that he might fight 
 on the open country, where his chariots and his cavalry 
 could fight most at ease. His great army made their 
 easy fortification, of which the very wagons were the 
 bulwarks. 
 
 And the Patrician' s army ? Oh, it was made from 
 ten, from twenty different tribes ! 1 cannot tell how 
 many different kings were there, nor how many lan- 
 guages. I am afraid it was not for love of each other 
 they fought. 1 am afraid it was not for love of God, 
 nor from love of Christ. But it was for something 
 which these are very near to. It was for love of home. 
 If the Huns conquered, not a home was safe where were 
 these men's wives and little ones. If they beat back the 
 Huns, there was a chance for another generation that 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGAN^SBTT. 2o3 
 
 their children might live and die in the homes where 
 they were born. 
 
 They hovered round the Hunnish camp, and were 
 afraid to attack it. Attila kept within his line of 
 wagons. He called the Christian bishop, he called the 
 old hermit, he called all his own soothsayers, to tell 
 what would be the chances of the fight. They cut open 
 beasts, and studied the spasms of the fibres as they died. 
 They scraped the bones, and read the letters made by the 
 red nerves stretched across them. And at last, as the 
 grim king looked on, the head soothsayer gave this 
 oracle : 
 
 " That army shall conquer whose king is slain." 
 
 "With such comfort Attila began the fight. 
 
 On the other side was the son of Alaric, with the sons 
 of the men who had fought under Alaric. He had 
 seized a little hill which commanded the field. 
 
 " See what cowards they are !" cried Attila to his 
 men. ' ' They are afraid to fight upon the plain. We 
 are used to conquer, on hills or on plains. You will see 
 them next trying to come down. And now follow me, 
 and 1 will strike the first blow." 
 
 And he did. It was three hours after noon. And 
 from that time till dark and after dark of that summer 
 day men slew, and slew, and slew. 
 
 Attila led his central host right through the Roman 
 army. There they had placed the traitor Sangiban, be- 
 cause they distrusted him. But the Patrician, on the 
 one side of Attila, and on the other side the son of 
 Alaric, and his grandsons, fronted the Huns, and drove 
 them. Each general of the three (Attila, Aetius, and 
 Theodoric) knew that he was himself succeeding, till 
 Theodoric fell, covered with the slain. 
 
 They slew, and slew, and slew, till it was so dark that 
 
^54 CHRISTMAS IJf NAERAGASrSETT. 
 
 no man knew wliere he was or could see an enemy. 
 Attila found his way back to the camp. The other gen- 
 erals stumbled on it also in their wanderings, aud saved 
 themselves from capture only by silence. 
 
 Morning came, and Attila did not move out from the 
 circle of his wagons. The lion was in his den, and he 
 would not leave it. The huntsmen were wise enough 
 not to disturb him. 
 
 A great concourse of people carried Theodoric to his 
 funeral-pile. The Huns looked on from behind their 
 wagons, and the chief soothsayer said aloud : 
 
 " That army has conquered whose king is slain." 
 
 Nor did Attila rebuke him. The lion was hit too 
 Borely. When the time came he gathered up his train, 
 and sullenly crossed Europe again to his lair on the lower 
 Danube. No man pursued. A thousand years after his 
 children's children defended Europe there against the 
 Saracen. 
 
 When Attila crossed the Rhine to the eastward Europe 
 was safe. 
 
 He would not let the holy men leave him. But all 
 the same, the ferry across the river in Champagne had 
 not failed. 
 
 The two boys, Sebastian and Constant, made their 
 summer home there. As their father grew strong, he 
 relieved one of them or the other. And after vesper 
 service on the Lord's day one of the boys alone, or one 
 of the boys with Honoria, made the march across the 
 ridge, as in old time, to the home of the hermit. 
 
 But summer passed, and autumn passed. Many a 
 straggler from the armies crossed the ferry ; but there 
 was no word from Victor. 
 
 All the same, the boys did the duty that came next 
 their hand. 
 
CHKISTitAS IS KAREAGANSETT. 255 
 
 CHAPTER V. — THE FEAST OF KINGS. 
 
 A defeated and disgusted army cares little for its pris- 
 oners, but to be sure they do not escape. 
 
 A little guard was specially assigned for the holy men, 
 as they were called, half in mockery and half in fear. 
 
 But the guard did not care whether they were hungry 
 or thirsty ; whether their feet bled or their clothes cov- 
 ered them. 
 
 The guard rode on horses and the prisoners went on 
 foot. All that the guard cared for was that the prisoners 
 did not lag behind. So crept by the hot summer days ; 
 and the great column, now halting for rest, now break- 
 ing up to forage and for plunder, slowly flowed back 
 through Bavaria and followed the Danube down to these 
 it left behind. 
 
 And I dare not say that times had been more cheerful 
 in Orleans. Where there had been no planting there 
 could be no harvest, and all last year's harvest had been 
 swept away. What the Huns had not taken the Yisi- 
 goths and the Romans had devoured ; and, between their 
 enemies and their friends, the people of Orleans were 
 left with well-nigh nothing to eat. 
 
 The bishop led them out into the fields late in June 
 and made them all plant turnip seed. And a few 
 wretched turnips were harvested, only half grown. 
 
 And he sent them into the woods, and they gathered 
 the acorns which the swine would have fed upon, but 
 that the swine had been killed by Attila or by his 
 enemies. 
 
 And it seemed as if the winter closed in earlier and 
 harder than ever. Cold, indeed, and hard, indeed ; and 
 to hardly any colder or harder than our friends. 
 
 " But we will thank God," said Michael, " that my 
 
S56 CIIEISTMAS IN KAKRAGANSETT. 
 
 foot is well, and that 1 can take my turn with the rest, 
 for there are those who came round to advent without 
 their sons and their daughters. " And he took his pretty 
 Honor on his knee. 
 
 His wife looked almost as young as the pretty Honor, 
 and the tears were flowing out' of her eyes, for she really 
 thought she should never seo her brother Yictor again. 
 Still she was brave, and she said : 
 
 " We will thank God that the boys are such good boys 
 and that they love to do the duty that comes next their 
 hand." 
 
 And the pretty Honoria said " Amen ;" but there 
 was nothing else that she could say. The girl did not 
 repine ; but she thought it was hard that her brothers 
 should be always away on the task which had cost their 
 uncle his life. So November went by, and December, 
 and the end of December came, and the Feast of the 
 Kings was drawing near. Bat Honoria roused herself 
 up one day, and said to herself, as she came home from 
 mass : "1 shall die if I go on moping so ; and our dear 
 mother will die if she goes on grieving for Uncle Yictor 
 and only pretending to be glad when my father comes 
 home." 
 
 So the pretty Honor set herself to thinking what she 
 could do by which she could forget herself, and what she 
 could do that her mother might forget the great grief of 
 the year. 
 
 " For this," said Honor, aloud, " is the duty next my 
 hand." 
 
 And as she said this it happened that she saw three 
 barefoot children hiding under the ruins of a chimney, 
 where a house had been destroyed in the siege, and try- 
 ing to stone some doves that had lighted in the cellar. 
 
 "There !" said she. "There are the smith's chil- 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAEEAGANSETT. 257 
 
 dren. Their father is dead and their mother can make no 
 holiday for them. They shall come to our house on the 
 King's Day, and they shall have a festival." 
 
 So she asked the smith's children ; and then she asked 
 the little Felix, and Delia and Martial —nay, even asked 
 some wretched barefoot and ragged little savage children 
 of Alains, who lived round the corner. She told them 
 stories of the feast they should have. She told them 
 how they should float walnuts in the water, with candles 
 in the walnut-shells, and what a frolic it should be on tlie 
 King's Night, because that night the three kings brought 
 presents to the baby Jesus. 
 
 Tlie little Alain children did not understand one word 
 that she said ; but the others explained to them that it 
 was to be a feast, and all the children said that they 
 would come. 
 
 And when Honoria came home to her mother, she told 
 her how bold a promise she had made. And now for 
 these twelve days there was to be full work enough in 
 the house. Sebastian was at home the first week and 
 Constant the second week ; but the days were stormy 
 and their father was almost all his time away beyond the 
 ridge, at the hermit's hut. " For there is nothing else," 
 he said ; " and I and the boy will stick to the duty that 
 is next our hand." 
 
 But Honor and her mother and her brother made 
 every sort of toy that their wit could invent ; or they 
 knit from the rags that were left hoods and scarfs for the 
 poor brats that were to come. And as the last days be- 
 fore the King's Day came Honor herself made a great 
 cake ; and into it she put a red bean, for a fortune for 
 the girls. And the old bishop lauglied at her one day, 
 when he came in and told her it was nothing but a pagan 
 custom. But she did not care for that. 
 
258 CHRISTMAS IN NAEKAGANSETT. 
 
 And the bishop was pleased with pretty Honor's pretty- 
 feast. And lie blessed her candles for her, and blessed 
 her cake for her, and told her that before the feast was 
 over he would come round and bless the children. And 
 so much interest did he take in Honor and ber little 
 throng that he. told her to tie a blue ribbon round each 
 child's arm of them all, and bid them meet on the morn- 
 ing of the King's Day in the square before the church 
 and come to the side door and knock. 
 
 So when the little things knocked, with pretty Honor 
 at their head, there were four deacons, with long gold 
 staves and with elegant flowing dresses ; and poor, 
 modest Honor was led forward to the very front of the 
 church, with her little ragged girls and boys trailing be- 
 hind, all blushing to their eyes, and very proud all the 
 same, and they were brought to the very front place of 
 all, before the grand altar. And before the service of 
 the mass began the dear old bisbop stepped down from 
 the altar, and put his hand upon every child and gave 
 them all a blessing, and wished for them that the next 
 twelve months might be prospered to them all. 
 
 And tbe little brats went home, and told their fathers 
 and their mothers what had happened to them, because 
 Honoria had asked them to her feast. 
 
 And when the sun went down they gathered around 
 Michael's door, and were afraid to knock or go in. 
 They were like pigeons hopping round in the garden 
 when crumbs have been thrown out of the window, just 
 afraid to hop upon the window-sill. But our pretty 
 Honoria was on the watch. And when she had brought 
 her cake in from the kitchen, and had set it in the mid- 
 dle of the table, and had garnished it with holly-berries, 
 and when her brother Constant had climbed on the table 
 and hung some mistletoe above it aU, it grew so dark 
 
CHKISTMAS IN KAERAGANSETT, 259 
 
 that Houoria ran to the door ; and sure enough all her 
 little flock was huddled together on the other side of the 
 little square. 
 
 She called and she beckoned ; and one of the boldest 
 came first, and then all the others came trailing in. 
 
 At first they were very, very shy. But after a little 
 one of the littlest children was riding on Constant's foot. 
 And then two of the little barbarians, as the others called 
 the Alains, were waltzing together. And as soon as 
 Honor saw that she caught her zithern down from the 
 wall and played for them a brisk air ; and then all the 
 barbarians fell to dancing, and half the others too. 
 
 Then some of the bigger ones played what you chil- 
 dren call " Uncle John is very sick;" for that game is. 
 more than a thousand years old, 1 believe. 
 
 And before half the games were done Honor's mother 
 called them to the feast. And they ate as if they had 
 never seen food before. 
 
 But at last not one hungry one could be found. And 
 then, and not till then, was the great cake cut in forty 
 pieces. For there were forty children at the feast. 
 
 And so it happened — such things always happen rigiitly 
 — that a little flaxen -haired barbarian girl, who had no 
 father and no mother and no brother and no sister, found 
 the great scarlet bean in her piece of cake ; and she was 
 made queen of them all. 
 
 And two of the biggest boys made an arm-chair with 
 their arms for her ; and she was carried to her throne, 
 all the others marching behind and clapping their hands. 
 And just at that moment the old bishop came in, without 
 so much as knocking, and stood right behind the throne. 
 And he seemed just as jolly and as happy as the youngest 
 child of all ; and not nearly as much afraid as the little 
 girl who had been crowned the queen. 
 
2G0 CilEISTilAS IS H-ARRAOANSETX. 
 
 And so tliere were a few minutes wlien Honor herself 
 forgot that her own dear brother was away^ and that 
 she could not have her father with her at the great 
 home-feasb of the year. 
 
 And Honor's dear mother forgot for the same minutes 
 that she should never see her brother Yictor again, and 
 that if her brave boys were to do men's work in the 
 world she could not hope to have them always at homo. 
 
 And Constant forgot everything but that these chil- 
 dren were happy. 
 
 Then came the last evening chimes, and it was time 
 for the children to go. Each boy and each girl had a 
 new woollen scarf, which Honor or her mother or some 
 of their friends had- knit for them ; and each carried a 
 package home of something for a treat for those who did 
 not come. 
 
 Only the old bishop and Honoria and her brother and 
 her mother were left. And the candles were put out, 
 and then the house seemed empty and lonesome. 
 
 " But it is better so," said the good woman, " than if 
 we had parted in hate ; or as if he had not done what 
 he thought and you thought and I thought was his 
 duty." 
 
 " Better, indeed," said the old bishop ; " and, at the 
 longest, it will not be very long before wo shall all meet 
 agaiu." 
 
 " God grant it !" paid the dear saint, through her 
 tears. 
 
 " God grant it !" said a rough voice behind her, and 
 two cold, hard hands pressed on her cheeks, and turned 
 her head half round ; and the wondering woman, who 
 could not see by the lireliglit, felt, what she could not 
 mistake, the old-time kiss of her brother Victor, the 
 hermit ferryman. 
 
CHRISTMAS IX NAEHAUAN'SETT. 2G1 
 
 Honor started from her motlier's feet, only to recog- 
 nize her brother, Sebastian, and to see in the dusk that 
 her father was there too. 
 
 " Here be the three kings of the East, " said Sebastian, 
 when he had kissed her forty times ; " and we are all in 
 time for the festival. Light up the candles again, and 
 you may give us crusts to eat, and we shall think it fare 
 for kings. For 1 can tell you, Lady Honor, that we 
 are very hungry." 
 
 " What angel brought you here ?" said Constant. 
 
 " We have prayed for you these three months when 
 we said our masses for the dead," said the old bishop, 
 who never lost his joke in any time. 
 
 " And your prayers are answered," said Victor, the 
 hermit. " The dead have come to life. As for angels," 
 he added, with that sweet smile of his, " I believe the 
 angels are my brave boys here. What did I say always 
 waited on those who do the duty that comes next their 
 hand ?" 
 
 But Honor's mother would not let any one tell stories 
 till they had eaten and drank. Her soup was warm 
 sooner than you could dream. By the time the soup was 
 eaten her bread was toasted, and her savory saucers of 
 milk, and of oil, and I don't know what, were ready ; 
 and in a minute more there wore ragouts and relishes 
 such as might come into the story in Orleans, but have 
 no names for Yankee cars. And not till she was sure 
 that they would eat no more would she hear of the mira- 
 cle, which the children were clamoring for. 
 
 " To tell you the truth. Sister Mary," said the hermit, 
 Yictor, ' ' I have eaten nothing but a strip of wolf's hide 
 since the last Lord's day." 
 
 ' ' Mother, when he came to his own house he would 
 not so much as touch his own cheese.. He gave the last 
 
2tJ3 CHlUSTilAS IN NARRAQANSICTT. 
 
 bit of it, as lie gave every crumb of bread, to the 
 others." 
 
 " Others ? Who are the others ?" 
 
 Then the pent-up story came. A story not unfit to 
 close the Festival of the Three Kings. A story too long 
 to be told here, as they told it. For the Festival of the 
 Kings was over, and John Baptist's day — as their custom 
 then was — had begun before the story was ended. 
 
 For our purpose only this shall be told. 
 
 Far' down the Danube was the great hut, where on a 
 stormy night tlie Bishop Lupus and the hermit, Victor, 
 passing quietly from bivouac to bivouac, wakened well- 
 nigh a hundred Christian slaves and stole away from 
 their cruel masters. 
 
 A long push westward before dawn so parted them 
 that the pursuit failed, and they were free. 
 
 Then the two holy men so ordered the little company, 
 so cheered them, so fed them, and so led them that, had 
 not winter set in so early, they would have come home 
 in shorter time than their long march away had taken. 
 
 But winter had caught them on the east of the Rhine. 
 The country was well-nigh desert. There were few vil- 
 lages left in it, and of those few very few that they could 
 trust. 
 
 Without food, almost without clothes, almost without 
 weapons, they had suffered horribly in the last month of 
 their pilgrimage. 
 
 But the bishop and the hermit encouraged them all 
 that when they came to Sens all would be well. They 
 made a forced march to Sens, and when they came there 
 they found blackened ruins. The shrine of St. Stephen 
 was left, and that was all. 
 
 *'I fed the WQVOen and children," said Victor, " on 
 
CHMSTMAS IJT NAERAGASSETT. 2G3 
 
 brotla made from the hide of an ox which the wolves 
 were tearing to pieces, and a strip of the wolf's hide was 
 what 1 took for myself. And 1 never told them how 
 much wolf I put into the stew," said he, grimly. 
 
 " Brother Lupus always was thin-skinned and tender," 
 said Agnan, aside, when their story came to this part. 
 
 " Not so tender as a lamb," said Yietor, taking up his 
 joke. 
 
 "That was the hardest of all," he added. "We 
 started an hour before light, on the strength of that 
 food ; but before the third hour from sunrise the snow 
 began, and in an hour more even I was lost. "We should 
 all have died but for the shelter of some hollow chestnut 
 trees. I did not know what to pray for. 
 
 ' ' Morning came again, and the storm was over. But 
 I did not know where we were. Not on my own hills. 
 I marched them west, by the sun, two hours. I sent a 
 Catalaunian boy we had to the top of a great oak tree. 
 The boy cheered, and said something I could not hear. 
 
 " But when he came down we heard. He had seen 
 smoke. It was smoke not two miles away." 
 
 " Mother, it was the smoke of Uncle Yictor's own 
 cabin," said the proud Sebastian. " Father and 1 had 
 made our fire out-doors, and were drying some boar's 
 meat." 
 
 " Those two miles were soon passed, 1 can tell you," 
 said the old hermit. 
 
 " And the lad here and the lad's father soon ferried 
 us over, and fed the women and housed the men. And 
 we knew you would want to see us on the King's Night, 
 so we three came through. But we should be feasting 
 with the kings themselves and with the dear Lord in 
 heaven if these dear boys had not kept up my old ferry. 
 Dear sister mine, let us go to bed. Tou owe your poor 
 
2C-1 CHRISTMAS IN NAEKAGAN-ST5TT. 
 
 old brother Victor's life to the steady lads who have held 
 fast to the duty that was next their hand." 
 
 " Do yon think," said Mrs. Menet, " that the average 
 reader of that story — the traveller in a railroad, or the 
 factory girl at Lowell— cares any more, or any less, for 
 that story because it is told of a place three thousand 
 jniles off, and is in a time fourteen hundred years ago ?" 
 
 " I think," said Haliburton, " that the average reader 
 is embarrassed by your bishop and your train of cap- 
 tives and your Roman army. 
 
 " But our ears are fresh," said he, " and our eyes ;" 
 and he turned to me. 
 
 " Ton always have a dozen Christmas stories in your 
 pocket. Eead us one of this decade or the next ; let it 
 be of gamblers and ships and manufacturers." 
 
 1 am always obedient, and I read 
 
 DICK'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 I. — FLIGHT. 
 
 " I'll be hanged if 1 touch the card again !" said the 
 Englishman. And he flung half the pack into the open 
 lire. 
 
 The Kentuckian laughed. " 1 am as honest as I know 
 how," said he ; " but I have known the knave of spades 
 by his back, and the ace of clubs, too, for the three last 
 deals." 
 
 " Bring some clean cards, you little pirate !" cried 
 Bastide to the pale httle boy who was waiting, " and be 
 quick about it. Here's a quarter of a dollar to grease the 
 elevator." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN XARRAGAKSETT. 265 
 
 Tlie boy laughed and fled. He did not trust the ele- 
 vator, but almost flew down the stairs to the oSioe of the 
 manager. To his disgust, although the office was open, 
 no one was there. Diok ran right and left ; he found 
 two or three waiters, but no one who could tell where 
 l^ickliss, tlie head clerk, had gone, or Steedman, his 
 second. Dick hated to lose his quarter-dollar and his 
 reputation for promptness. He had too often been sent 
 on such errands to be ignorant where the cards were 
 kept. He opened the cupboard, and took out four 
 packs. On the slate which hung on the door of the 
 cupboard he wrote in his best \vriting, " Dick, for ii, 
 fore pax." He scudded back to the stairway, fortu- 
 nately found the elevator ascending, entered it, and re- 
 turned to 44. 
 
 " Oh, you have been down-town for them, have 
 you ?" said the good-natured Kentuckian. He tore off 
 the cover, and tlioy began their game again. 
 
 They had played, perhaps, half an lionr, almost in 
 silence, and little Dick was really asleep in the embrasure 
 of the window, when the door flew open, and Mickliss, 
 the head clerk named above, stormed in in a passion of 
 yage. 
 
 He caught poor Dick by the collar, a,nd cuffed him on 
 both ears, shook him right and left, and flung him upon 
 the floor. He was about to kick him as he lay, when 
 Bastide laid his strong hand on his arm, and said, " If 
 you have .any accounts to settle, settle them with me. I 
 bade the boy bring the cards, and bring them at once. 
 If any one stole them, I stole them." 
 
 Mickliss ^vas far too drunk to care who or what was 
 the man who checked him, and a storm of quarrel began^ 
 with which there is no need to sully these pages. Long 
 before it was over little Dick, v/hose woes were the origin 
 
2G6 CHRISTMAS IN If ARRAGANSETT. 
 
 of the Iliad of those battles, had risen from the floor, 
 and had fled from the room, unnoticed by all the com- 
 batants. 
 
 II. SAFETY. 
 
 Dick wasted no time in descending the stairs or in 
 leaving the building. He caught his cap from its peg in 
 the office as he passed out, dodged into the first cross 
 street he came to, and fled np-town. Once in the street, 
 he knew very well that his escape was well-nigh certain. 
 
 But he did not loiter on the snow-trodden sidewalk till 
 he had put a couple of miles between him and his op- 
 pressor. Then in the darkness and silence he began to 
 plan for his night's quarters. And he was only too well 
 versed in the opportunities open in New York to young 
 gentlemen of his freedom of life when a night's lodging 
 is necessary. A high picket fence bounded one side of 
 the lonely street where he was. Dick went over it like a 
 cat, and found himself in a large long yard where stood 
 many Pullman cars, empty. He climbed high enough 
 on the outside of one to try its windows. All were fast, 
 till he came to the end, where a careless porter had left a 
 wash-room window a little open. Dick pushed it np far 
 enough to enter, closed it again, felt his way back into 
 the car, opened a seat in the dark, and in five minutes 
 had forgotten the gambling saloon, and Mickliss, and 
 Steedman, and was not even dreaming of Christmas joys. 
 Better than any dreaming, he was enjoying the blessed 
 unconsciousness of a tired child's sleep. 
 
 It was well-nigh eight o'clock before he waked. The 
 motion of the car aroused him. Dick had no thought of 
 receiving another thrashing. He watched his opportu- 
 nity to drop himself unnoticed from a window upon tho 
 station platform, and found himself in the great Vander- 
 
CHIUSTJIAS IN KAEKAGAN-SETT. 267 
 
 bilt statioa on Forty-second Street — a place wliere it is 
 quite as difficult to go out as it is to go in. 
 
 But Dick did not distress himself. And here lie was 
 right. Before long the platform was alive with travel- 
 lers eager to secure good seats, and glad in the promise 
 of their Christmas journeys home. One immense party 
 of old and young — men, women, children, pet dogs, 
 maids, and men-servants, passed Dick on their way to 
 the parlor-cars. After they had swept by, the boy saw 
 that a little girl in the company had dropped her enor- 
 naous doll. Dick seized the doll and followed. 
 
 The crowd was so great, however, and the party so 
 large, that before he had found the right child in the 
 parlor-car, and had explained about the recovery of the 
 doll, he felt, by the throb under his feet, that the train 
 was in motion. For the first time in the whole advent- 
 ure Dick was disconcerted. He had meant to leave the 
 saloon, and Mickliss, and Steedman. Yes. And he had 
 left them. But had he meant to leave New York ? Not 
 he ! New York was the best home he had had, after 
 all, since lie came there as a little boy. Little Alice saw 
 his dismay, and so did her nurse, both grateful because 
 he had recovered Brynhilde, the doll. The nurse said, 
 kindly, that perhaps he could leave the train at Harlem. 
 
 Perhaps he could. 
 
 Dick tried to. 
 
 He stood on the platform, to jump off if there were 
 any chance. The train " slowed up" a little as they 
 passed Harlem. Ah me ! The most attractive specta- 
 cle was going forward which a boy like Dick could con- 
 template. Actually he could see a steam fire-engine 
 going to the fire, of which he could see the smoke. And 
 he, free from Miekliss and from Steedman, still could 
 assist at the fire ! "Was ever any fate so cruel ? Every 
 
2C8 CIIIIISTIIAS IN NAEEAGAITSETT. 
 
 Btrote of the alarm-bell, as they whizzed by, bade him 
 stop. But the train was relentless, and bore him on. 
 
 It is a strange thing to say, bnt the little fellow's heart 
 rose in his mouth, and he choked Avith ag much emotion 
 as if he had left something more tangible and more affec- 
 tionate behind. Somehow the dim thought of his mother 
 came up to him, though his mother had never lived in 
 New York. She was dead before his hard lot took him 
 there. But she bade him go there ; she knew he was 
 there. If, now, he went rambling over the world, 
 would she know where to find him, and how to take care 
 of him ? If Dick could have analyzed his vague senti- 
 ment, it would have come out in that question. But he 
 was not the boy to stand blubbering, with a black porter 
 looking on and wondering, and, finding that the train 
 would not stop, he went back and made that report to 
 Miss Alice and the friendly nurse. Then these two chil- 
 dren, and a German boy there was, named Kodolph, fell 
 playing together, Dick perhaps the leader of the revels. 
 There was an affectionate gentleness in the boy, mixed 
 with a certain independence, bred in Jiis Ishmaelite life, 
 which easily made him a teacher in such httle sports as 
 were possible with their space and material. He showed 
 •wonderful ability with a cup and ball, which Alice was 
 taking to her grandfather's as one of the presents she 
 was to give. And so steady are the runs on some of the 
 levels of that road that they even succeeded in making 
 card houses stand for thirty seconds, and when they fell, 
 the joy of the fall was equal to the joy of the construc- 
 tion. 
 
 Nor was Dick ejected at the first watering station, as 
 he expected, and as the intelligent reader will hope if he 
 be a stockholder interested in railways. No ; the train 
 was full of Christmas passengers. The parties both of 
 
CHKISTMAS IS NAEEAGAITSETT. 269 
 
 Alice's father and of Rodolph's father were large, and 
 the conductor, as he hurried through, counting one set 
 and counting another, allowing for babies and half-tickets 
 and the rest, never made out that he had one extra boj 
 of eleven' years in the car. Dick was not, indeed, long 
 enough in one spot to be easily counted by any one. It 
 was not until the whole of the party to which he was at- 
 tached arrived at Meriden, and dismounted, not till he 
 helped Alice with Brynhilde to take her place in Uncle 
 ITahum's elegant carriage, that an explanation took 
 place. Alice's father, who had been quietly watching 
 the boy's pretty ways, told him that he ought not to 
 stand in the cold without his overcoat ; and then the 
 nurse explained, what Dick was too proud to tell, that 
 he had no overcoat, and, indeed, had not meant to leave 
 New York. Mr. Tlulme took, the boy back into the 
 Avarmer station-house, and Dick told him frankly that he 
 had run away from a gambling-house, had slept in the 
 Pullman, and by mistake had come away from the city. 
 Whatever the boy' s faults were, he was always straight- 
 forward, and told the whole of his story. 
 
 Mr. Hulme called his brother-in-law. " Nahum, hero 
 is a stow-away, whom we have brought by mistake from 
 New York." And in twenty more words he told the 
 whole story. 
 
 " One boy more or less will not be felt at mother's," 
 said Nahum, laughing. And he called to one of the 
 drivers : " Take out another blanket, and let this boy 
 wrap himself up in it." And Dick was tumbled into 
 the fourth carry-all of the great cortege, and to his joy 
 found that it was that into which Alice and the good- 
 natured nurse had mounted already. 
 
270 CHEISTMAS IN VAERAGANSETT. 
 
 III. dick's CHRISTMAS. 
 
 In the radiant Christmas hospitalities of Mrs. Throop 
 there was indeed room enough for Dick, as there would 
 have been for a dozen more of his kind had fate chosen 
 to bring them. And in the easy interchanges between 
 sitting-room and kitchen, and the simple relations which 
 governed the intercourse of those in both these not un- 
 equal wings of that household, Dick did not find his 
 unexpected visit a bore to anybody. Nobody was wor- 
 ried by his arrival, and nobody asked where he belonged 
 or why he was there. He had a knack of making him- 
 self useful, as has been seen, and he had, as has been 
 seen also, that other knack, less usual, of getting out of 
 the way when he was not wanted. 
 
 All parties were the better for their night's sleep, and 
 early on Christmas morning high festivities began. To 
 his real surprise, Dick found hanging on the inside of 
 the door of his little bedroom a large blue-yarn, stock- 
 ing, bigger tenfold than his own, and in it were all sorts 
 of funny gingerbread men and horses, barley-candy stat- 
 uettes, jumping-jacks, and other droll little inexpensive 
 toys. Such minor gifts in the Throop-Hulme household 
 were intrusted to Santa Claus at midnight. After two 
 or three breakfasts had been served in various rooms for 
 the enormous party of cousins, after family prayers had 
 been gone through with after a fashion, one joyous pro- 
 cession was made into the " best parlor"^ — place reverent 
 even with a certain superstition — and here were stacked 
 great heaps of white paper parcels, from the tall dressing 
 glass on three legs, which was draped in a white domino, 
 down to the diamond ring for grandmamma, which also 
 was enveloped in a parcel so large that grandmamma 
 could never guess. " Three hundred and fifty-one pres- 
 
CHRISTMAS m NAREAGANSETT. 371 
 
 ents, if you will believe me," said Aunt Sibyl. " There 
 are tliirty-two different people to receive, and some of 
 them have more than twenty. ' ' 
 
 And among the presents Dick also was remembered. 
 He had followed the gay procession a little doubtfully, 
 but because every other member of the household did. 
 And when " the piles were called," as the phrase went, 
 quite early, indeed, Dick's name was called. What his 
 last name was no one knew. Alice had promptly 
 changed some of her plans, so that she had a backgam- 
 mon-board for him. It was, of course, made to resemble 
 two impossible books, and they were lettered, to Dick's 
 admiration, " History of the Shah of Persia." 
 
 Mr. Hulme knew the exigencies of Christmas well 
 enough always to buy half a dozen extra pocket-knives 
 for boys, and one of these found its way to Dick ; and 
 Jules Verne books, and home-knit mittens, and other 
 timely gifts made up a good " pile" for the stow-away. 
 
 The boy had never before received a present in his 
 life. He had been " tipped " often enough, as by Bas- 
 tide, when he gave him the fatal quarter- dollar. But a 
 tip was something he earned. He had had kicks and 
 cuffs given him, which he had not earned. But till now 
 nobody had ever given him anything he wanted, merely 
 for love's sake. To see thirty people together, giving 
 to each other such beautiful things, to find that he had 
 been remembered also in the rush of all night's prepara- 
 tion, all this made the tears come to poor Dick's eyes, as 
 Mackliss's brutality or the oaths of the cross gamblers 
 would never have summoned them. The whole fete 
 was delightful to him, none the less. And when, of a 
 sudden, he became quite the hero of it for a minute, be- 
 cause he could set up a certain parlor croquet board, of 
 which the mechanism puzzled Uncle Nahum, Dick 
 
27^ CHRISTMAS IN" NARKAaAKSETT. 
 
 received very prettily the friendly compliments of Ms 
 Iiosts. 
 
 And now it was made clear wliy, after the riot-rout of 
 the stockings before daybreak', breakfast had been so 
 early, and no one had been allowed a second morning- 
 nap. The time was only too limited between breakfast 
 and church-going, and at eleven o'clock the "whole 
 boodle of them," as Uncle Nahum called the caravan, 
 from g-randmamma down to little Tom Roussillon, had 
 to boot and spur for church. The carriages appeared 
 for the oldsters, and the youngsters went on foot. Mrs. 
 Ilulme had found a lit overcoat for Dick, and he and 
 Alice trudged along together. 
 
 Church-going was a matter with which Dick was not 
 so familiar as card-playing or billiard-marking. There 
 was a certain mission Sunday-school, to which a certain 
 Swedish boy sometimes lured him when there was a good 
 bounty for recruits. But attendance there did not in- 
 volve attendance on the more stately services of the 
 church itself. The boy was only the more ready to 
 listen and to feel. As it happened, from bad luck or 
 good luck, the minister took " Home" for his subject. 
 
 lie might well have been iired in hia treatment of it, 
 as he saw the admirable family gathering in and around 
 the Ilulme and Throop and Roussillon pews. Near as 
 he was in friendship to half that party, lie may well havo 
 thought that when he spoke of a happy home as Christ's 
 best Christmas gift to the world, they were all, in the 
 fashion of children or of men, in sympathy with him. 
 Alas ! there was one among that happy party to whom 
 every word was a dagger. What home was, the little 
 boy knew well enough. He had seen it last night and 
 that morning. But it was just v^hat he seemed to have 
 no place nor part in. He remembered Christmas a year 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAKRAGANSETT. 373 
 
 ago, though to him the year had been ahnost intermin- 
 able. Then he was a runner in a hotel, and he well 
 recollected how hard the pull on the boys was before 
 people were willing to go to bod. But the boy was 
 brave. And the words, half comprehended, of the 
 preacher, gave him something to think of. At least he 
 could look forward, and what he would look forward to 
 was something like what was around him here. Some 
 time or other he would know how to make little fellows 
 happy, as this clever Uncle Nahum knew so well. Some 
 time. Tes. Where ? Why, New York, of course. 
 He should be lost here in an hour. In New York he 
 knew every turn and corner. He loved New York, and 
 New York loved him. 
 
 And so, as they went home from church, and Alice 
 made him listen to the new chimes which her father had 
 given to the congregation for his Christmas present, 
 although the bell-ringers played "Antioch" and " Christ- 
 mas," it seemed to the home-sick Dick-to be the same 
 sound he heard at Harlem, which bade him not be fright- 
 ened away from the city that was yet to be his home. 
 
 rv. — WnlTHEIl NOW ? 
 
 It was therefore the sermon which governed Dick's 
 thought in an interview he had with Mr. Nahum Thi'oop 
 and Mr. Hulms the next morning. Hulme had given 
 himself not only Christmas Day but St. Stephen's Day 
 also for a holiday. In all the glee of old home life, 
 however, he did not forget the little stow-away. Ho 
 held an early council with Mr. Throop, and they sent 
 for Dick even before breakfast. The boy came laugh- 
 infi', and bringing with him liis precious backgammon- 
 board. 
 
274 CHRISTMAS IN NAKRA.GANSETT. 
 
 " What have jou there ?" said Uncle J^ahuin, seeing 
 how carefully the boy carried it. 
 
 " It is fuU of mice, sir," said the boy. " They rat- 
 tled about in my bedroom in the night, and I caught 
 them." And he led the way, with the wondering Tom 
 and Alice, to the ever-running stream in the back pas- 
 sage, opened the box over the great tank, and to Alice's 
 amazement six mice, as soon as they recovered from a 
 sort of stupor, jumped into the water. 
 
 " Why, it is like Cinderella," she cried. And to the 
 wondering gentlemen Dick explained tliat he heard the 
 mice rioting in the night, and thought fit to catch them. 
 It was dark, he said, and he had nothing but his back- 
 gammon-board. He remembered two figs which had 
 been given him as forfeits in a game the night before, 
 and which Alice had put in his side pockets. In the 
 dark he had built up a little tower of checkermen and 
 figs combined, which held the backgammon board a little 
 open. " You see, one mouse cannot pull the fig out if 
 you weight the trap ; then another comes to help him, 
 and when there are five or six you catch them all," said 
 the boy, eagerly. 
 
 Mr. Throop looked on, amazed and amused. " Were 
 you born in Connecticut, Dick ?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Dick, proudly. "But my mother, 
 when slie died, sir" — and the boy sobbed — " told me to 
 go to New York, and I went there." 
 
 The two gentlemen looked at each other, and for a 
 minute there was silence. " 1 had been asking Mr. 
 Hulme," said Uncle Nahum, "whether he would like 
 to leave you here, and how you would like to go into the 
 shops, and learn, before you are a man, how we silver 
 steel, how we melt and mould silver, and how we make 
 the knives and forks and spoons for hungry people." 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAEIIAOANSETT. 375 
 
 " And 1 said to Uncle Nahum," said Mr. Throop, 
 " that you should come to him if you chose. But 1 said 
 you were a New York boy, and perhaps you would like 
 better to go back with me to-morrow. 1 cannot take 
 you into the bank ; we have nothing for boys to do 
 there. But I can find some one who will teach you what 
 your friend Milkrip never taught jou, and you seem to 
 have learned already not to lie and not to steal." 
 
 "1 do not know much, sir," said Dick, proudly; 
 " but so far I have learned." 
 
 Then followed a long talk with which the reader need 
 not be troubled. But it was pretty clear all along where 
 the boy's afEections were. Such home as he had, poor 
 child, was in the great city whose streets he knew only 
 too well. The two gentlemen nodded to each other, and 
 Mr. Ilulme said : 
 
 "New York it shall be, my boy ; to New York you 
 shall go." 
 
 "You are not mad with me?" said Dick, turning 
 eagerly to Uncle Nahum. " You have been so kind. 1 
 will do just as you say." 
 
 " No, Dick, I. am not mad at all. I say just what lie 
 says. Go to New York, and grow to be a man there, 
 and when you are a man, Dick, look out for the little 
 fellows who want a home. ' ' 
 
 V. — THE SHAH. 
 
 And so Dick went to New York. Ah me ! if he 
 would make time enough to-day only to tell the story of 
 what fell to his lot, in not so many years afterward, Gil 
 Bias himself could not tell a more varied tale. 
 
 The smallest errand-boy in the largest wholesale gro- 
 cery store in the city. It was hard for Dick to get that 
 
276 CHRISTilAS IK NAEBAGANSETT. 
 
 sense of the " We " without which such a concern never 
 really prospers. It was not in one month, not in two, 
 that Dick learned to say, " We telegraphed to-day for 
 twenty cargoes of coffee," but the store was in good 
 training, and in time Dick learned this trick as well as 
 the bigger boys had learned it. 
 
 Everybody in theory meant to be kind to him. As 
 often as once a month Mr. Roche, the junior partner, to 
 whom Mr. Hulme had intrusted him, remembered to ask 
 him how he was getting on, and if he had a good board- 
 ing-place. After a year John Roche, a sou, came into 
 the store. He took to Dick, took a fancy to him, saw 
 to the boarding-place, had Dick in his own Sunday- 
 school class, wrote to Mr. Brace about an evening school, 
 and in general saw that the boy did not go to the dogs. 
 John Eoche, under Providence, was the making of 
 Dick, and the boy grew up a ready, thrifty, kind-heart- 
 ed, willing boy — a boy whom no one could spare, who 
 helped along where he was, who did not make reply, 
 and did not question why, but found out all the more 
 often because he did not question. 
 
 A sad day was that for Dick when John Eoche made 
 his first voyage to the East. 
 
 " Dick," he said, " I am going to see our own coffee 
 people. I am going to see where coffee grows and how. ' ' 
 
 " Oh', Mr. Roche, take me ?" 
 
 " Dick, that was the first thing I proposed. And Mr. 
 Balestier really thought of it. I hoped you could come. 
 But they sent for old Portman here, and he said that they 
 could not do without you. He said that since young 
 Sweeney ran away he could not spare you. I said it was 
 hard on you that you should lose the voyage ; and that 
 all ends by this : you are to have a hundred a year added 
 to your pay from the first of last month, and at Christ- 
 
CHRISTMAS IS NARRAGANSETT. 277 
 
 mas another lift. But, Dick, you know that 1 shall misa 
 you sadly, and you must write to me. And what shall I 
 bring you ? 1 would say cheroots, if you smoked." 
 
 " Bring yourself, Mr. John, and a feather from a. 
 roc's tail. ' ' 
 
 " Dick, yoa shall have the largest roc's egg 1 find." 
 
 And so John Koche sailed, and Dick was left behind. 
 All the better for him. Now he was nobody's pet. He 
 was an important factor in the concern. Old Portman 
 had been made to confess his importance ; that was a 
 great thing. Mr. Balestier had learned his name ; tliat 
 in itself was a great thing. From this moment Dick 
 was on his feet in the store. 
 
 And from the beginning no one in the establishment 
 had more letters from John Eoche, or fuller, than Dick 
 had. 
 
 And when John Eoche returned, when Dick met him 
 at Quarantine to come up the bay with him in the ship, 
 was not each of them proud of the other ? 
 
 " Dick," said Mr. John, after the first, " I believe I 
 have made your fortune." 
 
 " 1 hope you have made your own," said the boy. 
 
 "Dick, 1 was back in jS"orth Borneo, the wildest 
 region you ever. saw. A rum old Eajah, with heaven 
 knows how many brack men in line of battle, made a 
 swell dinner party for me and Forrester and all. It was 
 the right thing for us all to carry presents of compli- 
 ment. One man took a revolver, and one took a sot of 
 chessmen. Poor me, I did not know what to take ; but 
 Forrester said the Eajah would like your new pattern for 
 a mouse-trap. Well, I knew it would please you to have 
 the thing go so far, so, though it was your present to 
 me, I took that." 
 
 " Please me !" cried Dick ; "I think so ! Bat since 
 
378 CHEISTMAS IX NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 you went away I have had no heart for that. Tou told 
 me to take out a patent, but I have done nothing. ' ' 
 
 " Time for that now," replied John Roche. " I tell 
 you, Dick, your fortune is made. "We showed the black 
 king how to set it with little scraps of lump-sugar, as 
 you taught me. Well, we all went to bed early that 
 night in the old Sachem's hacienda. And, Dick, I 
 Bwear to you, the next morning that thing was full of 
 cockroaches. Whether they have any mice in his palace 
 I do not know. This I know — that his cockroaches are 
 as big as mice. While they were rampaging round in 
 your trap, and nibbling at the old Shah's sugar, some 
 dozen of them sprang the thing, and so caught them- 
 selves and a hundred or so of their mothers and grand- 
 mothers all together. Dick, the next week this Shah, or 
 Eajah, or Sultan, or whatever he is, sent down to the 
 ship, oh, I do not know how much cinnamon, to say he 
 wanted a thousand of the ' American Snapdragons. ' I 
 sent word that we had none left, but that a thousand 
 should go out to him as soon as 1 returned. And now 
 it seems that you have not even a patent, Dick. ' ' 
 
 But, as some readers may recollect if they will try, a 
 sufficient patent was soon obtained. What South 
 American country-seat, what palace in Madagascar, what 
 elegant hacienda in the Philippines, is now without 
 " The Shah's Christmas-box" ? 
 
 For this was the name at last given to Dick's clever 
 contrivance. They studied over several. One was 
 " The Eajah's Repose ;" one was " The Sultan's Sol- 
 ace ;" one was the name the Rajah called it, " The 
 American Snapdragon." 
 
 But Dick went fondly back to that first Christmas, of 
 which the reader has heard. And he said that the ex- 
 
CIIKISTMAS IN NARRAG-ASrSETT. 379 
 
 periment was first tried by the " Shah of Persia," and 
 that " The Shah's Christmas-box" it should be. 
 
 So " The Shah's Christmas-box" it is. 
 
 In the Mauritius and the Isle of France they spell it 
 the " Chat.' ' But I cannot help that. 
 
 And so this little story approaches its end. For it was 
 the " Shah of Persia," or Alice Ilulme, who gave the 
 Shah to Dick, who, as it proved, so changed Dick's life 
 that he became the great inventor that he is, and never 
 a successful coffee merchant, as he seemed likely to do. 
 
 At least people say it was the Shah. 
 
 Truth is, it was all in the boy's blood. The Shah was 
 the first success — in itself a very trivial matter. But 
 really every new jib-key and cut-off and smoke-con- 
 sumer, every variable eccentric or double-reacting com- 
 bination, which has sprung from that quick creature's 
 ready brain, all the relief which his quick wits have 
 given to tired hands or weary feet, every prompt answer 
 which has come from him when a fast and eager world 
 has asked him for his help, has been born from the same 
 native passion to act and to oblige — promptly, swiftly, 
 and well — which earned for him his thrashing from 
 Mickliss, which carried to Alice her doll at whatever 
 risk, and vrhich at the right moment made a mouse-trap 
 from a checker-board. 
 
 A great inventor the boy became. 
 
 When he invents a way to make time, and so sits down 
 to write that story which, as above, is to eclipse " Gil 
 Bias," he will tell you more than 1 can. He will tell us 
 how, even as a little boy, he was made welcome at Mr. 
 Hulme's house ; how pleased and satisfied he was when, 
 at sixteen years of age, acting as third librarian's assistant 
 at St. Martin's in the Bowery, he gave to Alice Hulme 
 
380 CHKISTKAS IX NAEKAGAlSrSEIT. 
 
 tlie books her missiou class needed ; how proud he was 
 when he cf)uld walk home with her after the evening 
 meeting of the Sunday-school teachers. And a* last the 
 fateful day came, the anxious morning, the heavenly 
 afternoon. In the morning he closed the triumphant 
 negotiation with the two syndicates which bought, one 
 for the "Western Hemisphere, one for the Eastern, the 
 exclusive rights for Dick's great invention — for putting 
 away the newspapers and finding them when they are 
 wanted. All men know that this invention will revolu- 
 tionize the world. In the afternoon he dared tell Alice 
 that ho loved her better than his life— that he could now 
 give her the home of a princess, if only she loved him. 
 And Alice blushed, and smiled, and tried to speak, and 
 failed. And Dick kissed her. All this must not be told 
 here. 
 
 It must be left to " Dick's Memoirs." 
 
 It must be the true tale, and not the fancy of an in- 
 ventor. 
 
 " Alice, darling, what is that about a rose ?" 
 
 " It is that in the garden of the Shah of Persia the 
 
 bulbul sung to the rose all niglit, and that the rose was 
 
 fast asleep in the morning." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense, dearest. "What is it, you know, 
 
 about the name of a rose ?" 
 
 " My love is like the red, red rose. 
 But lie wears a black mustache ; 
 And all that is red is the end of his nose — " 
 
 thus improvised the reckless girl, singing. 
 
 " JSTo, no, no ! What is it Juliet says ? 1 want you 
 to say it. ' ' 
 
 " Want me to say that a rose by any other name 
 
CHRISTMAS IJT U-AREAGANSETT. 381 
 
 would smell as sweet ? Why should I say that ? Of 
 course it would. And I do not know why Juhet is 
 praised for knowing it. 1 could say that as well as. 
 Juliet." 
 
 " Alice, my life, try to be serious. My name is not 
 ^Bacon !" 
 
 " Is it Hogsflesh ?" said Alice, " or is it Pate de fois 
 grasV 
 
 " Oh, Alice, dear, you laugh and I cry ! Bacon was 
 a brute. He was my darling mother's second husband. 
 He killed her before he broke his own neck. But she 
 was called Bacon, and so I was called Bacon, and then I 
 knew no better. 
 
 " But I know better now, Alice. Since I have been 
 down to Volemtatn 1 have learned the whole story. I 
 never saw my father. Pie only lived six months after 
 he married mother. Bat now I know his name. And 
 you will never be Mrs. Bacon, even if you love me still 
 the same. But whether I shall ever dare to tell yoa i 
 do not know." 
 
 " Darling," said Alice, bravely, " I shall marry you if 
 it turns out to be Hogsflesh, or Lamb — anything but 
 Quack or Boar I" 
 
 And so, when they went down to grandmamma's to 
 be married, and the dear old Christmas minister who 
 preached about home married them, she was not Alice 
 Bacon, after all. 
 
 And when, the next year, the great reform movement 
 sprang into being in J^cw York, and Tammany, and 
 Mozart, and Irving Hall, and Cooper Institute, and all 
 possible lesser places of meeting were on the same night 
 crowded with eager men ready to govern the great West- 
 em Motropohs " on business principles" — when they all 
 looked for a candidate whose own affairs were managed 
 
283 CHKISTMAS IS KAERAGAXSETT. 
 
 with success, and who had had so little to do with party 
 politics that he had made no enemies, it was not wonder- 
 ful that without any sort of concert or prearrangement 
 on anybody's part, the pure Democracy nominated 
 
 RICHARD WHITTINOTON, 
 
 " THE CHILD OF THE PEOPLE," 
 
 And the Citizens nominated 
 
 EICHARD WHITTmGTON, 
 
 "THE MAN OF BUSINESS," 
 
 And the " Sons of the Shamrock" nominated 
 
 RICHARD WHITTINGTON, 
 
 "THE IRISHMAN," 
 And the Native Americans nominated 
 
 RICHAED WHITTmGTOlT, 
 
 « THE YANKEE INVENTOR," 
 
 And the old Eepublican line nominated 
 
 RICHARD WHiniNGTON, 
 
 "THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND." 
 
 And so, for once, all parties were agreed. 
 
 And when Dick was chosen, three weeks after, there 
 were only one hundred and twenty-three votes in oppo- 
 sition ; and it was then that he said, and said truly, " In 
 
CHRISTMAS lif NAEKAGANSETT. 283 
 
 six montlis 1 shall be the most unpopular man in New 
 York." 
 
 CHAPTER THE LAST. 
 
 " Alice," said Dick, after the last committeeman had 
 said liis last word of congratulation — long after midnight 
 of the election day, when the two stood alone in the ban- 
 quet-hall deserted — " Alice, it was what the bells said 
 to me at Harlem, the day 1 found your doll, Brynhilde. 
 They seemed to sing to me, 
 
 " Turn, Dick, quick ; 
 
 Turn, Dick, and stick: 
 
 Quick, Dick, and stick, Dick ; 
 Turn and stay till all is done, — 
 And Dick the Mayor of the town ! " 
 
CHAPTER THE LAST. 
 
 Aftee our luxTirions and elaborate Narragansett din- 
 ner, in which we sacrificed the Rhode Island turkey on 
 his own home altar, and the mongrel goose — the cur- 
 tain must fall on the varied forms of the oysters from 
 Trustum's Bay and the clams from Oliver's garnering — 
 we sat long at the table, and Minna Menet told stories 
 of Christmas in Arizona, and Polly told stories of the 
 stone and moss cottage in which they lived in Kamt- 
 schatka, and it was well-nigh nine o'clock when we left 
 the table for the gray parlor, when she ordered coffee: 
 The company grouped themselves to their moods — as is 
 the habit there — some on the floor, some in extension 
 chairs, some lying on divans, but the greater part sitting 
 in various " sleepy hollows" of twenty different forms. 
 I was standing by Minna Minet, when one of the boys 
 came in and said, would they not like to see the Pala- 
 tine — "it is very funny to-night." 
 
 "He means the Fall Eiver steamer," said Ingham. 
 " It is Avell worth seeing on a fine night." And he took 
 Mrs. Menet out with him. 
 
 A good many of those who were comparatively stran- 
 gers followed to the fine veranda. 
 
 It is a fine sight of a clear night, under the blaze of 
 the winter stars sparkling from the black heaven. You 
 see no form of a ship, but the long double row of the 
 state-room lights — perhaps a flare of lighted steam or 
 smoke when they open the furnace — and the whole 
 sweeps along noiselessly, just where Whittier's fire-ship 
 
CHRISTMAS IK KARRAGAKSETr. 385 
 
 of the Palatine ought to appear, midway between Block 
 Island and our shore. 
 
 It is for this reason that our young people are in the 
 habit of calling the Fall Eiver boat the Palatine. 
 
 The veranda party came in laughing and shivering, 
 and Mrs. Menet said, recurring to the talk of the after- 
 noon, " There is your legend with the local color of 
 to-day. 
 
 " Now, let us see what we can do with these lazy 
 people who have not even gone to the window. 
 
 " Those are the people to read historical novels — the 
 people who are too lazy to read the real histories." 
 
 So she began, assisted by Mrs. Frechette, in a rattling 
 account of what they had seeUj keeping within the 
 bounds of truth, but not saying one word which might 
 not have been said of the real phantom, if a phantom 
 can be real. 
 
 "But really," said Theodora Decker, modestly and 
 blushing — " but you know 1 am only a Pacific Ocean girl 
 — a sort of pale-faced Kanaka. 1 must ' confess igno- 
 rance,' as dear Mr. Hale says. I do not know what you 
 mean by the Palatine. I thought the Palatine was a hill 
 in Rome." 
 
 " Delightful !" cried Colonel Ingham ; " then we can 
 read you Whittier's poem. It is the most charming and 
 best authenticated of all our traditions." 
 
 There are not twenty books in the gray parlor, but one 
 of these is " The Tenb on the Beach," and Ingham took 
 this and stood with his back to the fire to read. As he 
 found the place, he said : " Remember, Mrs. Decker, that 
 the Indian name for Block Island yonder was Manisees. 
 And it is in this very Sound yonder, between here and 
 there, that the Palatine appears." 
 
 Then he read the ballad of 
 
%SG CHRISTMAS IS NAEBAQAlirSETT. 
 
 THE PALATINE.* 
 
 Leagues north, as fly the gull and auk, 
 Point Judith -watches with eye of hawk ; 
 Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk ! 
 
 Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsaken. 
 With never a tree for spring to waken. 
 For tryst of lovers or farewells taken, 
 
 Circled by waters that never freeze, 
 Beaten by billow and swept by breeze, 
 Lieth the island of Manisees, 
 
 Set at the mouth of the Sound to hold 
 The coast lights up on its turrets old, 
 Yellow with moss and sea-fog mould. 
 
 Dreary the land when gust and sleet 
 At its doors and windows howl and beat, 
 And winter laughs at its fires of peat ! 
 
 But in summer-time, when pool and pond, 
 
 Held in the laps of valleys fond, 
 
 Are blue as the glimpses of sea beyond ; 
 
 When the hills are sweet with the brier-rose, 
 And, hid in the wai-m, soft dells, unclose 
 Flowers the mainland rarely knows. 
 
 When boats to their morning fishing go. 
 And, held to the wind and slanting low. 
 Whitening and darkening the small sails show — 
 
 Then is that lonely island fair ; 
 
 And the pale health-seeker findeth there 
 
 The wine of life in its pleasant air. 
 
 No greener valleys the sun invite. 
 
 On smoother beaches no sea-birds light, 
 
 No blue waves shatter to foam more white ! 
 
 * The reader owes the pleasure before him to the courtesy of Mr. 
 Whittier and the publishers of his poems, Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin 
 &Co. 
 
CHRISTMAS IK NAREAGANSETT. 387 
 
 There, circling ever their narrow range, 
 
 Quaint tradition and legend strange 
 
 Live on unchallenged and know no change. 
 
 Old wives spinning their webs of tow, 
 Or rocking weirdly to and fro, 
 In and out of the peat's dull glow. 
 
 And old men mending their nets of twine, 
 Talk together of dream and sign. 
 Talk of the lost ship Palatine^ 
 
 The ship that a hundred years before, 
 Freighted deep with its goodly store, 
 In the gales of the equinox went ashore. 
 
 The eager islanders, one by one. 
 
 Counted the shots of her signal-gun. 
 
 And heard the crash when she drove right on ! 
 
 Into the teeth of death she sped 
 (May God forgive the hands that fed 
 The false lights over the rocky Head !) ; 
 
 Oh, men and brothers ! What sights were there ! 
 White upturned faces, hands stretched in prayer ! 
 Where waves had pity, could ye not spare ? 
 
 Down swooped the wreckers, like birds of prey. 
 Tearing the heart of the ship away. 
 And the dead had never a word to say. 
 
 And then, with ghastly shimmer and shine. 
 Over the rocks and the seething brine 
 They burned the wreck of the Palatine. 
 
 In their cruel hearts, as they homeward sped, 
 " The sea and the rocks are dumb," they said ; 
 " There '11 be no reckoning with the dead." 
 
 But the year went round, and when once more 
 Along the foam-white curves of shore 
 We heard the line-storm rave and roar. 
 
 Behold ! again, with shimmer and shine. 
 Over the rocks and the seething brine, 
 The flaming wreck of the Palatine 1 
 
288 CHRISTMAS IN STARKAGAKSETT. 
 
 So, haply in fitter words than these, 
 Mending their nets on their patient knees, 
 They tell the legend of Manisees. 
 
 Nor looks nor tones a doubt betray ; 
 
 " It is known to us all," they quietly say ; 
 
 " "We too have seen it in our day." t 
 
 Is there, then, no death for a word once spoken ? 
 Was never a deed but left its token 
 Written on tables never broken ? 
 
 Do the elements subtle reflections give ? 
 Do pictures of all the ages live 
 On nature's infinite negative. 
 
 What, half in sport, in malice half, 
 
 She shows at times, with shudder or laugh, 
 
 Phantom and shadow in photograph ? 
 
 For still on many a moonless night, 
 From Kingston Head and Montauk Light, 
 The spectre kindles and burns in sight. 
 
 Now low and dim, now clear and higher. 
 Leaps up that terrible ghost of fire, 
 Then, slowly sinking, the flames expire. 
 
 And the wise Sound skippers, though skies be fine, 
 Reef their sails when they see the sign 
 Of the blazing wreck of the Palatine. 
 
 There was a husli of a full minute after this weird, 
 ghastly ending. Ingham threw himself into his favorite 
 chair, which all men leave for him. 
 
 " Have you ever seen it ?" asked Mrs. Decker, a little 
 frightened, because she must say something. 
 
 " 1 ?" said Ingham, startled — " have I seen it ? 1 — I 
 had rather not say. You know, dear Mrs. Decker, we 
 are not — we are rot here — but — but four or five montha 
 in the year." 
 
CHEISTMAS Ilf NAERAGANSETT. 289 
 
 His voice broke queerly, as is not his way. He paused 
 again, took another book from the little Norton made 
 out of laurel roots. It was " Livermore's Block Island." 
 
 " Plenty of people have seen it. Here is one of your 
 scientific men's account of it. This is the letter of Dr. 
 Willey, a thoroughly intelligent man, who had seen it 
 once and again : 
 
 " ' This curious irradiative rises from the ocean near 
 the northern point of the island. Its appearance is noth- 
 ing different from a blaze of fire. Whether it actually 
 touches the water, or merely hovers over it, is uncertain, 
 for I have been informed that no person has been near 
 enough to decide accurately. It beams with various 
 magnitudes, and appears to bear no analogy to the ignis 
 fatuus than it does to the aurora borealis. Sometimes it 
 is small, resembling the light through a distant window ; 
 at others expanding to the height of a ship with all her 
 canvas spread. When large it displays a pyramidical 
 form, or three constant streams. In the latter case the 
 streams are somewhat blended together at the bottom, 
 but separate and distinct at the top, while the middle one 
 rises higher than the other two. It may have the same 
 appearance when small, but, owing to distance and sur- 
 rounding vapors, cannot be clearly perceived. 
 
 " ' The light often seems to be in a constant state of 
 insulation, descending by degrees until it becomes invisi- 
 ble, or resembles a lurid point ; then shining anew, some- 
 times with a sudden blaze, at others by a gradual in- 
 creasement to its former size. Often the instability 
 regards the lustre only, becoming less and less bright 
 until it disappears, or nothing but a pale outline can be 
 discerned of its full size, then returning to its former 
 splendor in the manner before related. The duration of 
 its greatest and least state of illumination is not com- 
 
290 CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGANSETT. 
 
 monly more than two or three minutes. This incon- 
 stancy, however, does not appear in every instance. 
 
 " 'After the radiance seems to be wholly extinct, it 
 does not always return in the same place, but is not un- 
 frequently seen shining at some considerable distance 
 from where it disappeared. In this transfer of locality 
 it seems to have no certain line of direction. When 
 most expanded, this blaze is generally waving, like the 
 flame of a torch ; at one time it appears stationary, at 
 another progressive.' " 
 
 "Do you mean, Colonel Ingham, that this thing 
 has been seen in this generation, in our time — in scien- 
 tific times ?" said Mrs. Menet, eagerly, almost passion- 
 ately. 
 
 Before Ingham could answer the parlor door swung 
 open, and Wanton Maxcy appeared — one of the small 
 farmei-s who lived below us. There is not a door-bell 
 within six miles, as has been said. Wlioever wants to 
 enter enters. Maxcy wanted to enter, and so came in. 
 
 " Colonel Ingham, "_, he said, eagerly, panting for 
 breath, " come to the door. There's a ship on fire be- 
 yond the Pint. Et's not the Bristol. She's passed. 
 Looks like a three-master, high out of the water, old- 
 fashioned build, three decks, mebbe." 
 
 He was running through the hall with Ingham as he 
 spoke. And as they stood together in the open air, I 
 heard him, though he dropped his voice, say, " Is it the 
 Palatine, colonel ?' ' 
 
 Sure enough, this tower of light shot up to the sky. 
 1 could make out no form of spars— of course not of 
 sails. The women thought they saw masts. Ingham 
 did not, for one instant, lose his presence of mind. 
 
 He was at the stable telephone in a moment. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN NAEEAGANSBTT. 291 
 
 " Both beaeli- wagons this minute. I will send you 
 Cephas and Hiram to help you. " 
 
 In fact, Pauline had already sent Cephas and Hiram, 
 and we could see them running down the hill. 
 
 " Order the barge, Fred. We must all go to the 
 beach,' ' said his wife. And Fred bade them send up 
 the barge, beside the two wagons. 
 
 [" Barge" is modern Yankee for a large omnibus, with 
 seats running in the same direction as the roadway, and a 
 canvas cover.] 
 
 In two minutes the ladies were standing with their fur 
 cloaks on. Ingham and the servants brought out buck- 
 ets and baskets, with ready bales of blanket for any wet 
 wretch who might be pulled from the sea, with flapks of 
 brandy, and all other supplies, long since pre-vised and 
 pro-vided. 
 
 " In the heat of conflict keeps the law 
 In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw." 
 
 The two beach wagons came up the avenue, and eight 
 men and boys entered. 
 
 The " barge" was not far behind. 1 ran down to my 
 house and stopped at Hoxie's, that two wagons might be 
 got ready for me and mine. I own no horses, and always 
 hire his, 
 
 Alas ! all his horses were at Kingston. The young 
 people had gone there to a dance. 
 
 " But, Mr. Hale, I will run to my uncle's. I will be 
 there in no time. You can have both his -teams." So 
 said the eager Cynthia Hoxie, forgetting the sick-head- 
 ache which had kept her at home. And she was away 
 across the fields in the darkness. 
 
 Then it seemed as if everything hindered me. My 
 storm boots were both right-hand boots. I could not 
 
293 . CHRISTMAS IN NAERAGAKSETT. 
 
 find the ash oars 1 needed. I meant to take two heavy 
 ulsters, but they had disappeared. Worst of all, 
 Cynthia came back breathless, to say that her uncle had 
 already gone to the beach with every horse he had. 
 
 I must follow on foot, or be too late. 
 
 Was I slow ? 1 tried to run, and it seemed as if my 
 feet were glued to the ground. At the schoolhouse 1 
 even left my packages, lest I should never get there. I 
 toiled on, panting, down the sandy drift-way. The 
 light of the burning ship seemed to brighten the sky, but 
 I could not see her. I dragged myself on. At the 
 hotel all was dark as night. No one was in the fisher- 
 men's houses. 1 turned from their shelter upon the 
 beach, and I could see 1 was just too late. 
 
 They had shoved the Uncle Fritz — Ingham's great 
 Block Island schooner — down the ready rollers of her 
 ways. 
 
 I could just see her as she faded into the rising fog. 
 
 I could see Ingham, dear, kind fellow, as he waved his 
 hand. 
 
 I could hear nothing but the waves. 
 
 I looked for the Palatine. And the light was wholly 
 gone. 
 
 I waited all night upon the beach. I saw morning 
 dawn. But the Uncle Fritz had disappeared. And no 
 one of them returned. 
 
 Were they, perhaps all of them, phantoms of the im- 
 agination ? 
 
 " The best in this kind are but shadows." 
 
 What is real being ? 
 
 All Ehode Islanders are Idealists, and have been from 
 Eoger Williams down. Eoger Williams ? Was not 
 Canonchet an Idealist ? 
 
CHRISTMAS Itsr KARRAGANSETT. 293 
 
 Roger WilliamB, Coddington, Hutcliinson, Ellery, 
 Channing, Malbone, Alston, Wayland, Burgess, Hazard, 
 "Wager, Greene, Weeden, Perry, Jemima Wilkinson, 
 George Fox's friends, Foster, Albert Greene, Mrs. Eath- 
 bun, — everyone of them has lived and died for the Idea. 
 
 Why did Bishop Berkeley come and make his home 
 here, and die here, at Newport yonder ? 
 
 Is it perhaps true, as he said, that that which we call 
 matter is only an impression produced on the mind ? 
 
 Ingham, Ilaliburton, and all the rest of them ; the 
 Palatine and the beach here, the drift-way and my home. 
 What do I mean when I say that they are Eeal ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
AR CHI BALD MA L MA ISO N, 
 
 A New Novel. By. Julian Hawthorne. Price, paper, 15 cts.; cloth, extra 
 
 paper, 75 cents. 
 
 INDEPENDENT, N. K " Mr. Julian Hawthorne can choose no better com- 
 pliment upon hisnew romance. * Archibald Malmaisoh/ than the assurance 
 that he has at last put forth a story which reads as if the manuscript, written 
 in his father's indecipherable handwriting and signed ' Nathaniel Haw- 
 thorne/ had lain shut into desk for twenty-five years, to be only just now 
 pulled out and printed. It is a masterful romance ; short, compressed, terri- 
 bl>^ dramatic in its important situations, based upon a psychoJogic idea as 
 weirl and susceptible of startling treatment as possible. 1 1 if a book to be 
 read through in two hours, but to dwell in the memory forever. It so cleverly 
 surpasses 'Garth' or *Bressant in its sympathy with the style of the elder 
 Hawthorne that it must remain unique among Mr. Julian Hawthorne's works 
 — ^until he exceeds it. The employment of the central theme and. the literary 
 conduct of the plot is nearly beyond criticism. The frightful climax breaks 
 upon the perception of the reader with surprise that he did not foresee it ; 
 another tribute on his part to the unconventionality which is one of the many 
 touches of eminent art in Mr. Hawthorne's tale." 
 
 R. ff. STODDARD, IN NEW YORK MAIL AND EXPRESS, "The cli- 
 mate is so terrible, as the London Times h^s pointed out, and so dramatic in 
 its intensity, that it is impossible to class it with any situation of modern fic- 
 tion. . . Mr. Hawthorne is cleaily and easily the first of living romancers." 
 
 THE CONTINENT, N, Y, "The most noteworthy Ftory Mr. Julian Haw- 
 thorne has ever produced. . . No wilder romance has ever been imagined. 
 « . A brilliant and intnnsely powerful wortv-. . . It is certain that such 
 power sets the author at the head of modern romancers,'' 
 
 THE LONDON TIMES, " After perusal of this weird, fantastic tale (Archi- 
 bald Malmaison), it must be adtnilted that upon the shoulders of Julian 
 Hawthorne has descended in no small degree the mantle of his more illustri- 
 ous father. The climax is so terrible, and so dramatic in its intensity, that it 
 is impossible to class it with any situation of modern fiction. There is much 
 psychological ingenuity shown in some of the more &ubt.e touches that lend 
 an £ur of reality to this wild romance." 
 
 THE LONDON GLOBE, " 'Archibald Malmaison,' is one of the most daring 
 attempts to set the wildest fancy masquerading in the cloak of science, which 
 has ever, perhaps, been made. Mr. Hawthorne has managed to combine the 
 almost perfect construction of a typical French novelist, with a more than 
 typically German power of conception. Genius is here of a kind more artistic- 
 ally self-governed than HoflFraan's, and less obviously self-conscious than 
 Poe's. A strange sort of jesting humor gives piquancy to its grimne^s." 
 
 THE ACADEMY, " Mr. Hawthorne has a more powerful imagination than 
 any contemporary writer of fictien. He has the very uncommon gift of talcing 
 hold of the reader's attention at once, and the still more uncommon gift ^ 
 maintaining his grasp when it is fixed." 
 
 TJIE PEARL-SHELL NECKLACE. -^PRINCE HA- 
 RONVS Wife. 
 
 Two Novels, By Julian Hawthorne, one volume, xamo, paper, 15 cents; 
 cloth, extra paper, 75 cents. [In press.] 
 
 CONTEMPORARY REVIEW, "The 'Pearl-Shell Necklace' is a story of 
 permanent vahie, and stands quite alone for subtle blending of individual and 
 general human interest, poetic and psychologic suggestion, and rare humor." 
 
 SPECTATOR, "• The Pearl-Shell Necklace ' wherever found, would stamp 
 its author as a man of genius. Even the elder Hawthorne never produced 
 more weird effects within anything like the same compass. And yet there is 
 absolutely no imitation." 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS, Publishers, 10 & 12 Dey St., New York. 
 
HIMSELF again; 
 
 A New Novel. By J. C. Goldsmith, i2mo, paper, 25 cts.; cloth, extra 
 paper, $1.00. 
 
 COMMENTS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 THE BOSTOJSr GLOBE. "Itspeculiar qualities are its delineal ion of eccen- 
 tric character which is notabiy free and bold, and its familiarity with many 
 kintJs of present American life and manners, and its original, realistic treat- 
 ment. . . Beneath the sprightly dash with which the story is outlined and 
 filled, there is conscious strong power. It is finely written, and of decided 
 merit." 
 
 THE EVENI.^G POST, HARTFORD, " Unlike most novels, the first chap- 
 ters ot' this remarkable story are the weakest. But let the reader persevere and 
 he will find opened to him a wonderful world of novel and interesting charac- 
 ters, a valuabe and unique philosophy, and an almost unsurpassed background 
 of American city and country scenery, both land and water,** 
 
 BOSTON' ADVERTISER, "The writer displays more than average insight 
 into the workings of human nature, and the naturalness of his cliaracier draw- 
 ing is no doubt the secret of the special attiaction that lies in the book,'* 
 
 CLEVELAND LEADER. "This is a purely American novel. . . and one 
 ot the best we have seen. It is so vivid in its description of localities and 
 personages, that the reader hardly doubts that all is real. And in accom- 
 ptishing this tbe author achieves a kind of charm that is as delightful as it is 
 hard to define." 
 
 RUTHERFORD. 
 
 A New Novel, By Edgar Fawcett. Author rf "An Ambitious Woman,*' 
 
 ** A Gentletnan of leisure," "A Hopeless Case*' " Tinkling CyntbtUs" 
 
 etc, i2mo, paper, 25 cts; cloth, extra paper, $1.00, 
 
 MR, FAWCETT has of late been steadily and rapidly advancing toward the 
 foremost place among American novehstSr He deals with ph<ses of society 
 that require the utmost skill ; but his quick insight into character, his ready 
 sympathies, and his conscientious literary art, have proved more thar equal to 
 the ta^ks he has undertaken. It is certain that many of the best critics are 
 watching his course with high anticipations. In ' Rutherford, his latest 
 work, neither they nor the public will be disappointed. It is a novel of New 
 York society, and rn.rely has character been po:traye J with more de'.icate but 
 eflfective touches than in the case of some of these representatives of Knicker- 
 bocker cast", Tbe story is by no means confined to them however, but is en- 
 riched to a very great degree by characters taken from lower social planes. 
 Nothing the anchor has ever done, perhaps, surpasses his characterization of 
 * Pansy * one of the two sisters who have fallen from aflluence to poverty. 
 Through them he arouses the deepest sympathies, and shows a dramatic 
 power that is full of promise. It is needless, of course, to commend the liter- 
 ary finish of Mr. Fawcett*s style. It is fast approaching perfection, 
 
 FUNK & WAQNALLS, Publishers, 10 & 12 Dey St., New York. 
 
THE FORTUNES OF RACHEL, 
 A New Novel. By Edward Everett Halk. i2mo, paper, asc; cIoLh, gi. 
 
 CHRISTIAN UNION N. Y ' Probably no American hrs a more devoted 
 constituency of readers than Mr Edward Everett Hale, and to all iliese his 
 litest story, 'The Fortunes of Rachel, will bring genuine pleasure. Mr. Hale 
 is emphatically a natural writer; he loves to interpret common things and to 
 deal with average persons. He does t'lis with such insight, with such noble 
 conception of life and of his work, that he discovers that profound interest 
 which belongs to the humblest as truly as to the most brilliant forms of life. 
 . ■ I'hisstory is a thoroughly American novel, full of incident, rich in 
 
 strong traits of character, and full of stimulating thought; it is wholesome and 
 elevating,*' 
 
 BOSTON JOURNAL. *' The virtue of the book is the healthful, encouraging, 
 kindly spirit which pervades it, and which will help one to battle with adverse 
 circumstances, as, indeed, all Mr. Hale's stories have helped," 
 
 NEW YORK: JOURNAL OF COMMERCE. "A purely American sfory, 
 original all through, and Rachel is one of the pleasantest and most satisfactory 
 of heroine:. She is a girl of the soil, unspoiled by foreign travels and con- 
 ventionalities. After surfeiting on romances whose scenes are laid abroad, it 
 is delightful to come across a healthy home product like tfeis," 
 
 BOSTON GLOBE, *' Every one knows that Mr. Hale is the prince of story- 
 tellers." 
 
 MUMU, AND THE DXAR Y OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN, 
 
 Two powerful novels descriptive of serf and upper-class life in Russia. 
 By Ivan Tuegenieff. i2mo, paper, 15c.; cloth, extra paper, 75c. 
 
 A"", y. TRIBUNE. ** His characters are vital; they suffer with a pathos that 
 irresistibly touches the reader to sympathy. Those who would write in the 
 same vein get merely his admirable manner,_fuU of reserve, of self-restraint, 
 of joyless patience; but while under this surface with Turgeniefflie throbbing 
 arteries and quivering flesh, his imitators offer us nothing more ihan lay figures 
 in whose fortunes it is impossible to take any lively interest.^ 'J'hey represent 
 before us only poor phases of modern society, while Turgenieff has explained 
 to us a nation ai?d shown the play of emotions that are as old ris the world and 
 as new as the hour in which they are born.'* 
 
 LITERARY WORLD y B->ston, " These two stories . . are unquestion- 
 ably to be ranked among their author's masterpieces. . . 'Mumu' will 
 bear a great amount of study ; it marks out a whole method in fiction." 
 
 THE MANHATTAN, •' One of the most pov/erful and touching pictures of 
 slave-li:e in all literature." 
 
 LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE. Phila. "There are some ha^f dozen of Tur- 
 genieff's short stories absolutely perfect each in its way, but none, perhaps, 
 quite so exquisitely as Mumu ' show<; the great artist's power to transfigure to 
 our eyes the tenderness, passion, agonies, which lie beyond speech and almost 
 beyond sign, in the silent heart cf a strong, simple man." 
 
 CRITIC AND GOOD LITERATURE. N, Y, "How little niaterial genius 
 requires for making a ' good thing.* Turgenieff's * Mumu * is only the sketch 
 of a deaf mute and a dog, but bow beautifully told 1 There are touches of 
 infinite gentleness as well as of skill." 
 
 FUNK &' WAGNALLS, Publishers, 10 & 12 Dey St., New York. 
 
Oeorge Eliot's Essays, 
 
 THE ESSAYS OF GEORGE ELIOT, Collected and Arranged, 
 with an Introduction on her " Analysis of Motives," By Nathan 
 Sheppard, author of "Shut up in Paris," " Readings from George 
 Eliot/* etc. Paper, 25 cents; fine cloth, ;^i.oo. 
 
 ( Tkis is the first appearance of these JEssays in book form in J^ngland 
 or America^) 
 
 \e\t% Critic, New York: 
 
 "Messrs. Funk & Wagnalls have done 
 U real service to George Eliot's innumer- 
 able admirers by reprinting in their p-^pu- 
 lar Standard Library the great novel- 
 ist's occasional contributions to the period- 
 ical press." 
 Veiv York Snn 1 
 
 "In the case of George Eliot especially, 
 whose reviews were anonymous, and who 
 could never have supposed that such 
 fugitive ventures would ever be widely 
 associated with the nsme of a diffident 
 a.nd obscure young woman, we gain access 
 in her early essays, as in no other cf her 
 published writings, o the sanctuary cf ber 
 deepest convictions, and to the intellectual 
 workshop in which literary methods and 
 processes were tested, discarded, or ap- 
 proved, and literary tools fjshiored and 
 manipulated long before the author had 
 discerned the large purposes to which they 
 were to be applied. * * * Looking back 
 over the whole ground covered by lhc:e 
 admirable papei^, we are at no loss to un- 
 derstand why George Eliot should have 
 made it a lule to read no criticisms on her 
 own stories. She had nothing to Icam 
 from critics. She was justified in assum- 
 ing lh2.t not one of those who took upon 
 themselves to appraise her achievement 
 had given half of the time, or a tithe cf 
 the intellect, to the determination of the 
 right aims and processes of the English 
 novel, which, as these reviews atte?:t, she 
 had herself expended on that object before 
 venturing upon that form of composition 
 which Fielding termed the modern epic." 
 Examiner, New York : 
 
 "These essays ought to be read by any 
 one who would understand this part of 
 George Eliot's career; and, indeed, they 
 
 furnish the key to all her subsequent 
 
 literary achievements," 
 
 Kvening Transcript, Boston . 
 
 " No one who reads these essays will re- 
 gret their publication, for they are of 
 striking and varied ability, and add much 
 to the completeness of our conception of 
 Marian Evans' character. Critical and 
 artistic power seldom go hand-in-band. 
 The most brilliant piece of purely literary 
 work is the one on Heine and German 
 wit. It is one which reaches the highest 
 level of intellectual criticism, and stands 
 unsurpassed by anything of Arnold st 
 Lowell." 
 Cliarcli Union, New York: 
 
 •' Nathan Sheppard, the collector of the 
 ten essays in this form, has written a high- 
 ly laudatory but critical introduction to 
 the took, on ber 'Analysis of Motives,* 
 and, after reading it, it seems to us that 
 every one who would read her works 
 profitably and truly should first have read 
 it." 
 Zion'a Herald, Boston : 
 
 ** As remarkable illustrations of her 
 masculine metaphysical ability as is evi- 
 denced in her strongest fictions. " 
 Episcopal metliodiat, Baltimore: 
 
 •'Everybody of culture wants to read 
 all George Eliot wrote." 
 Harlford Kvening Post: 
 
 •* They are admirable pieces of liter- 
 ary workmanship, but they arc much moift 
 than that. * • * These essays are tri- 
 umphs of critical analysis combined with 
 epigrammatic pimgency, subtle irony, 
 and a wit that never soems strained." 
 Cliriatlan Advocate, New York : 
 
 " They show the versatility of the great 
 novelist. One en Evangelical Teaching it 
 especially interesting." 
 
ALPHONSE DAUDET'S FAMOUS BOOK. 
 
 L'EVANGELISTE. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 By ^LFHOIVSE r>A.UI>ET. 
 
 Pounded on the Doings of the Salvation Army, 
 
 " L'Stanoelistb " is far out of the beaten track of fiction, and its originality 
 l8su>plemented by intense power aud interest; in fact, it would be difficult to find a 
 romance in whicb the interest is more absorbing. Nor is this interest the result, 
 as is deplorably the case in so much French fiction, of highly spiced seniimental- 
 ity or daring vulgarity. The book is clean, wholesome, refined, and is, moreover, 
 founded on fact. It treats mainly of the acts and methods of that world-famons 
 organization, the Salvation Army, and the heroine, Eline Ebsen, is a Dane, living 
 witn her mother in the Scandinavian colony in Paris, She is on the point or being 
 married, and a happy life seems in store for her, but suddenly a disturbing infiuenoe 
 appears in the shape of JUadam Antheman, a wealthy banker's wife, who is given 
 to making religious converts. This woman hires Eline to translate some prayer- 
 books, and during the execution of the wo A the girl becomes filled with her 
 patron's enthusiasm. She breaks with her suitor and deserts her mother to servo 
 as a preacher in the Salvation Army. This is the introduction to one of the most 
 thrilling novels of the day, and from thence onward the plot absolutely enthralls 
 the reader, each succeeding link riveting the chain the tighter. The incidents are 
 strong in the highest degree, very dramatic, and pervaded by a lurid light of mysti- 
 cism which augments the effect a thousand-fold. The gradual development in the 
 young haroine of the fatal passion for proselytizing people is depicted as Alpbonse 
 Daudet alone of all the French novelists can depict an idea, and the struggles of 
 the poor mother to recover her deluded daughter from the grasp of the rich Authe- 
 mans, her vain appeals to the feeling of pity and the unsympathetic law, touch the 
 heart of the reader to an extent the pen cannot depict, all the more so when one 
 learns bow the novel came to be written. Daudet had often observed the sad face 
 of the lady who gave lessons in German to his eldest son. Surprising her one day, 
 with tears in her eyes, he induced her to narrate the causes of her woe. The story 
 of the woman forms the basis of this novel, in which she figures as Mme. Ebscn. 
 
 WHAT CRITICS THINK OF DAUDET. 
 
 HENET JAMES, Jii., says, in the Cmimy Magazine; "We have no one, 
 either in England or America, to oppose to Alphonse Daudet. The appearance of 
 a new novel oy this admirable genius is to my mind the most delightful literary 
 event that can occur just now ; in other words, Alphonse Daudet is at the head 
 of his profession." 
 
 JULES CLARETIE, the eminent French writer, says : " To-day Alphonse 
 Daudet has airived at the full measure of his renown. In fiction he is proclaimed 
 the master. ... Is the most delicate, the most sympathetic, the most charming of 
 all our contemporary writers of romance. . . . The poet of romance." 
 
 JOAtJUIN MILLEE says, in a letter, April 3, '84 : "I had rather be Alphonse 
 Daudet than any other living man now in literature, except two : one of these is 
 Victor Hugo, and the other is— Joaquin Miller." 
 
 Paper Cover, 50 cents. Cloth., 81.00. 
 
 B^" This is the ONLY Complete Edition of the Story published in 
 America. About one half of ths. Story is published in one of the cheap 
 Libraries of the day— a mere fragment. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF FUNK dk WAGNALLS, NEW YORK. 
 
 *^ Tbe most important and practical Trorlc at tbe age on tlfce 
 Psalms."— SCHAFF. 
 
 SIX VOI^USZES MO'W READY. 
 
 -SPURGEON'S GREAT LIFE WORK- 
 
 THE TREASURY OF DAVID! 
 
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 TEE ENOUSH 
 
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 ''Dec. 8, i88i. C. ff. SPURGEON." 
 
 Volumes I., n., HX, IV., V. and VL are now ready; volume 
 VII., which completes the great work, is now under the hand of the 
 author. Subscribers can consult their convenience by ordering all 
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 the set is completed by the delivery of Volume VU. 
 
 From the large number of hearty commendations of this import- 
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 tame by 
 
 EMINENT THEOLOGIANS AND SCHOLARS. 
 
 PliilipScliiaff, r>.II.,tb.e Eminent i tical woik of tb.a age on the Psalter !■ 
 Commentator and the President of the [ ' The Treasury of Darid/ by Oharles H 
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PUBUVATtONS Qir tiVNX tB H^At^NAJLLS, NEW YORK. 
 
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 WlUiam M. Taylor, D.D.9 
 
 New York says: *■ In ttie exposition of 
 the heart 'Tna TBEAsuBy op Datxd* is 
 zui generis, rich, in experience and pre- 
 eminently devotional. The expoBltion 
 la aiwaye fresh. To the preacher it la 
 especially snggestivo." 
 
 John Hall, D.O., NfifV Yoi:k, 
 Baya: ''There are two queBtlons that 
 must Interest every expositoi' of the 
 Divine Word. What does a particular 
 passage mean, and to what use is it to 
 be applied in puhlic teaching? In the 
 department of the latter Mr. Epur- 
 geon's great work on the Fsalms is 
 without an equal. Eminently practical 
 in his own teaching, he has collected in 
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 oially of that great body loosely grouped 
 together as the Puritan divines. I am 
 heartily glad that by arrangements* 
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 Funk & Wagnalls are to bring this great 
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 W^illiam Ormiston, D.D., 17ew 
 
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 OF Davxd' a work of surpassing excel- 
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 standard work on the Psalms for all 
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 numexous qoaint illustrations gath- 
 ered from wide and varied fields, and 
 the suggestive aermonio hints, render 
 the volumes invaluable to all preachers, 
 and indispensable to every minister's 
 library. All who delight in reading the 
 Psaltts — and what Chriatian does not? 
 — will prize this werk. It is a rich 
 cyclopsBdia of the literature of tiieae 
 ancient odea." 
 
 Tlieo. 1*. rmyler, D.D., Brook- 
 lyn. Bays: " I have used Mr. Bpurgeon'a 
 •The Tbeabuht op David' for three 
 years, and found it worthy of ita name. 
 Whoso goeth in there wiU find • rich 
 spoils.' At both my visits to Mr. 8. he 
 epoke with much enthusiasm of this 
 undertaking as one of his favorite 
 methods of enriching himself and 
 others." 
 
 Jesae B. Tliomag, D.O , Brook- 
 lyn, aays: " I have the liigheet concep- 
 
 tion ot the sterling worth of aU Mr. 
 Spurgeon'a publications, and I incline 
 to regard hia Teeaburt of Davxd* sm 
 having received more of his loving 
 labor than any other. I regard ita 
 publication at a lower price as a great 
 service to American Bible Students." 
 
 ; Wew York Cbserver says: " A 
 rich compendium of auggestive com- 
 ment upon the richest devotional 
 poetry ever given to mankind. ' 
 
 Tb« CoDgrpgatlenallKt, Bos- 
 ton, says: " Aa a devout and spiritually 
 eugg*-Btive work, it is meeting with 
 the warmest approval and receivinf 
 the hearty commendation of the most 
 distinguiahed divines." 
 
 United. Presbyteriasi, Pitta- 
 burg, Pa., aays: **Itia unapproached 
 as a commentary on the Psalms. It is 
 of equal value to miniatera and lay- 
 men — a quality that works of the kind 
 rarely posBesa." 
 
 North American, Philadelphia, 
 Pa.: aaya: "Will find a place in the 
 library of every minister who knows 
 how to appreciate a good thing." 
 
 New York Independrnt says: 
 " He has ransacked evangelical litera- 
 ture,and comes forth, like Jessica from 
 h er father's house, • gilded with 
 ducata' and rich plunder in the shape 
 of good and hclptul quotations.' 
 
 Ke"w Yoi'lc Ti*ibane says; •Tor 
 the great majority of readers who seek 
 in the Psalms those practical lessons 
 in which they are so rich, and those 
 wonderful interpretations of heart-life 
 and expression of emotion in which 
 ^hey anticipate the New Teetament, we 
 know of no book like this, nor aa good. 
 It is literally a • Treasury.' '* 
 
 g. S. Times sa:^B:" Mr. Bpurgeon'a 
 style is simple, direct and perspicuouB, 
 oiten reminding one of the matchleea 
 prose of Bunyan." 
 
 'West'rnCliristian AAvo^'afe, 
 Cincinnati, O., says: "The price is ex- 
 tremely moderate for so Jarge and Im- 
 portant a work. * * * 'Wo have ex- 
 amined this volume with care^ and we 
 are greatly pleased with the plan of 
 execution," 
 
 CitrisitSan Herald says: "Con- 
 tains more felicitous illustrations, 
 more valuable eermonic hints, thiui can 
 bo found in all other work^ on the 
 same book put together." 
 
 «9- Thg above works vnll ec sent 6y matS, fosfage ^aid, on rtcei^t of th* jfncft 
 
The Hoyt-Ward Encyclopaedia of Ouotations, 
 
 PROSE AND POETRY. 
 
 20,000 QUOTATIONS, 50,000 LINES OF CONCORDANCE. 
 
 This full concordance of over 50,000 linos, is to quotations what Toung's 
 and Ciuden's Concordances ore to the Bible. A quotation, if but a word is re 
 menibercd, can easily be found by means of this great work. 
 
 BOSTON POST. 
 
 " Tlie only standard hook of quotations. For convenien ce and usefulness Uie 
 work cannot, to ovr mind, be S'jrpassed, end it must long remain t he standard 
 among its kind, ranking side ly dde with, and being equal ly indispensable in 
 every well-ordered library, as Woi-cester's or Webster's Dictionary, Eogefs The- 
 saurus, and Crabb's Synonyms." 
 
 GEORGE W. CURTIS: 
 
 " A most serviceable companion." 
 
 HON. JUDGE EDMUNDS, U. S. SENATOR: 
 
 " T7ie most complete and beat work of tlie fdnd." 
 
 GEN. STEWART L. WOODFORD : 
 
 ' ' The •most complete and accuraie book of the h ind. " 
 
 MAJ.-GEN. GEO. B. McCLELLAN: 
 
 " A work that should be in every library." 
 
 GEORGE W. CHILDS: 
 
 " Any one -wlw dipt into it will at onee make a place for it 
 
 among his weU-ehosen books." 
 
 HENRY WARD BEtCHER: 
 
 " Good all the way through." 
 
 HON. ABRAM S. HEWITT: 
 
 " Ihe completeness of its indices is simply astonishing." 
 
 WENDELL' PHILLIPS (Jast before bis Death) : 
 " It is of rare value to the scholar." 
 
 Prices:— Royal, 8vo, over goo pp., Heavy Paper, Cloth Binding, $5.00; 
 Sheep, $6.50: Half Morocco, $8.00; Full Morocco, $10.00. 
 
 PnbMers: FDNK & WAGNALLS, 10 & 12 Der street, Kew Yort