OJarncU lllnitiecaitij ffiibrarg Dtitara, 'Sitw fnrh 5».coN»..G^ja.«.V^it/yy\u^ii^ ^ ,Xt->-«-oct^ ,^^^=i-.«..-^ - - a NEW YORK: TKADE SUPPLIED BY THE AMERICAN "NEWS CO. Copyright, 1890, BY SAM H. JAMES. TO LEE RICHARDSON, JR., OF VICKSBURG, MISS. A VERITABLE PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. PREFACE. In writing this book the author lias had but one desire, to give a correct and truthful picture of life upon the large cotton [ilantatious lying upon the Mississippi river. After many years' study of the German and English literature, he has become convinced that two writers in German and two in English stand head and shoulders above tiie rest, as vvritei-s of romance, simply because they are able to paint human life just as liuman beings live it, witiiout giving highly overwrought plots and sen- sational acting, which nobody ever yet saw in real life. I need scarcely add that tiie names of these writers are Goethe and Lessing in the German, and Thaclieray and George Eliot in the English. I have not attempted to imitate them, for we all know that tliey are inimitJible, but I have made a careful study of their methods, and have endeavored to put them into use in writing this story. The moment a writer adopts life-like methods, and begins to paint liis picture with only the colors that life admits, the critics cry, " You liave no plot." Well, then, I will ad- mit in the beginning I have no plot. In fact, I have tried hard to avoid having a plot, for, after living thirty odd years among different people on this globe, I have yet to find one single plot in human life according to the idea of the fashion- able novel. Life is not lived after that manner at all. Tliinirs do not turn out to please us all, not by long odds. And, as for the virtuous all being rewarded, and everybody being made happy — these things never occur save in the next world and in the pages of novels that have plots to them. Human life is quite a different thing, where the failures are in greater proportion tiian the successes, and where things fail woefully to turn out in a manner to please us all. Well, then, just so far as life justified it I have given a plot, and no further — but I have given you, reader, what is vastly better in the eyes of wise men, a picture of human life, with all its pathos and humor, just as human beings live it. I know well enough that those young people who are now raving over the sensational novels of the day, where everybody gets married, where the virtuous are rewarded, and where all are made happy in the end I know that such young people will not like my book, and to tell (5) PBEFACE. the plain truth, I should feel much concerned if I thought they would. But there is a large proportion of men and women of sense and education in this world who like truthful work, and I doubt not they may find something to interest them for a few hours in these pages; it is into their hands I place my cause, knowing that they will give me full justice. I have not called the book a novel, but "A Picture from Life," though it is largely a work of fiction. After a man has spent a whole year of the best period of his life in careful work on a book, and eight more months in having it corrected, he does not feel like oflFering any apology in presenting it to the public. The manuscript has been read by three able critics — by Prof. Scheie de Vere, the Senior Professor of the University of Virginia ; by Dr. William Holcombe, of New Orleans, and by Dr.T. C. Coan, of the New York Bureau of Criticism. The Senior Professor of the Uni- versity of Virginia devoted one week to correcting the manu- script, and all suggestions offered by the other gentlemen liave been made by the writer. A friend, a lady of culture and edu- cation, has read the MS. twice and made such corrections as she saw fit, and, in addition to this, the writer has gone over tlie manuscript five times, so, if it is not correct, it is not for want of enougii correcting. I doubt if any first born baby, born within a year, has had half the nursing that the MS. of this book has undergone. After the fli-st few chapters, T allow N. Warrington Crab- trie to take the story in hand, and to tell it in his own way of talking, after having lived twenty years among "free niggers" and cotton planters. The critics need not tell me that Crab- trie is not using elegant English, for I have spent months in gathering together all the odd provincial sayings of this sec- tion, and have allowed Crabtrie to use them, so as to give as much " local color " to the story as possible. Twenty years ago, when Crabtrie came home from Harvard, he would have used as elegant English as a Boston critic, but after twenty years' intercourse with negroes and cotton planters his English has become corrupted to a large extent, and I have attempted notliing more than a truthful portrayal of his speech. It is necessary to make a few remarks in regard to the char- acters in the book, since in " A Woman of New Orleans" the characters were taken from life, a fact which caused no little trouble. To save all such trouble here, we shall state exactly the truth in regard to the characters in the present book. General Lane, Ethel, Major Rankin and wife and his three daughters, are all products of the author's imagination. PREFACE. 7 Grandma Gray resembles, in one or two things, a dear old lady who is still with us, but she is mainly a creation of fiction. Dr. Brandon, Mrs. Brewster and her daughter, Howard Sayer and Crabtrie are all taken from life, with a few additions given to them by the imagination of the writer. Little Dan Selden (who is the true liero of the story, as Brandon is the quasi one,) is very much like a little fellow I once loved and lost — ^long, long ago — before the stars fell. I have an idea that I shall find him again, together with all the good things I could not have in this world, over in the better country. The character wjiich will puzzle the reader (of this section) most, is old John Selden. A half-dozen people will be picked out for this gentleman, but in each case the reader will be mistaken. That gentleman is the product of the author's imagination alone. The character was suggested by an incident told the author years ago by one living in another State. Jim Longley and his wife were suggested by the same incident. There is no cause for giving any offense in the book ; the characters taken from life are all dead save Crabtrie, and when he hears that he has been so carefully written up, his delight will be un- bounded, and he will do more in advertising the book than all the papers put together. Below we give the views of three critics in regard to the book : Pi-of. Scheie de Vere, Senior Professor of the University of Virginia says: "As a picture of life at Mound Station, the book has gi-eat merit." Dr. William Holcombe, of New Orleans, says : " You have woven a very pleasant, interesting story ; pleasant and inter- esting because it is true to nature. This book is much superior to your first publication." Dr. T. C. Coan, of the New York Bureau of Criticism, says : " The story has vividness, life, and some humor, and has interest as the record of a grotesque social life." / :l A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER I. Madison Parish, in the State of Louisiana, is a district of large cotton plantations. If cane is grown there at all, it is only in small quantities, just sufficient to supply molasses (nfV the family of the raiser. Yet in luxury, great abundance of products, as in wealth and general refinement, it cannot be sur- passed by any other section of the State. All along its eastern border, winding in and out after the strangest designs, is the great Mississippi River, which so long as it behaves itself, is a source of pride and pleasure to us ; but at times the noble river turns loose its waters in wild fury,' and then our pride is turned into monrning, and there is sad havoc in the land. Farther back in the parisli, Walnut Bayou flows through pro- ductive plantations, forming a horse-shoe as it goes, and empty- ing . its waters only a short distance from where it began, though in all its course it travelled some thirty or forty miles. True, at Fortune's Fork Little Brusliey flowed into Walnut, and from that plantation on it was known as Brushey Bayou, though in truth, it was but a continuation of Walnut Bayou itself. Why it was called Walnut was a mystery to us all, for there was not a walnut on all its course, while either bank was lined with tall willow bushes. This horse-shoe shape had served a grand purpose in the history of the parish in the more prosperous times before the war, when tliere was as wild a set of young bloods in the land as could have been found in all the world ; and when one would bet ten thousand dollars or ten head of "niggers " witli as much composure as he would eat his morning meal, and what is stranger still, would pay the debt too, if he lost. Tlie bayou being almost a circle in shape, and of such a distance as to allow these young bloods, on a good horse, to make the circuit in a day — why, it became the custom for each one to start out from the point where he hap- pened to stay the night before, riding around the curve, and as all the rest would be riding upon the same road, and as each had a bottle of good whiskey in his pocket, why 'tis plain (9) 10 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. as day, that eacli young blood would meet with as much good wliiskey and as congenial society, during the day, as his lieart could wish. There was as much good whiskey traveling around this bayou in those days as could be found outside of the State of Kentucky, and as much frolicking as could be found else- where in all this world of ours. When one of our youths once started upon this journey, he found it so fascinating a trip he never stopped so long as he had breath in him. So most of the flower of our parish youth, and much of the wealth of our country, had gone that way, and never once stopped till they were safely landed over in the devil's country. But long before our story opens, the last wild youth had passed around the circuit for the last time, had died the death of a drunkard, and had been buried away and forgotten ; and the younger men who were growing up, either refused to go more than half the journey at a time, or took warning from their predecessors and let cards and whiskey alone. If, instead of turning up the bayou, you had turned at right angles at Mound Station, and passing over the V. S. & P. R. R. taken your way through the swamp and over Cypress Bayou, in about three miles you would have struck the country lying upon the river, where, though it was said that the whis- key was not so good in olden times, yet the lands there were just as fine, and the people not one whit less hospitable. In fact, the people living on this section of the river had formed one neighborhood with those living near Mound Station on the bayou, and in social events there had been a general commun- ing. It was but a pleasant ride from the bayou to the river, or from the river to the bayou, so the boys out on the river had a fashion of falling in love with the girls who lived on the bayou, and the girls who lived on the bayou, in their turn, had a fash- ion of sending notes and pinder candy to the boys who lived on the river. Nor need I add that when a piece of scandal was started upon the bayou, the river folks would have it before the sun went down ; and if Mr. Brown but said a rough word to his wife out on the river, in less than three hours it would be reported all up and down the bayou that he had given her a good sound whipping, and some folks would add— just as he should have done. As a community and neighborhood they were identical. The same doctor dosed them when they were sick ; the same parson would have preached to them, only they had never had a parson ; and they one and all told over the same old anecdotes to each other, with as much relish as if they had been new. "When the cotton worms struck Walnut Bayou, you might have sworn they would be upon the river in less A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOW,S. 11 than three days ; and if the June raiiis started upon the river on a certain day, you might feel assured tliat they would put in an appearance on the bayou before many days were over. The only residence in all this neigliborhood that had any pretence to style was that of old General Torn Lane, wliicli stood in full view of the city of Vicksburg, just at the turn in the river where one was sure to get the breeze as it came in over the water, and where you got the first sight of the steam- boats as they turned the bend at Duckport, and the very last glimpse as they rounded the curve going up to Vicksburg. This was rather a stately old mansion of General Lane's with its wide gallerj' and tall ceilings, and the great oaks surround- ing it with peaceful shade ; even before the war, when hand- some residences had been the rule, this had been considei-ed among the handsomest. By some lucky chance it was one of the very few old homes that had been left standing at the end of the war^and the holes that had been left by the cannon balls flying over from Vicksburg in those days when it was ratlu'r hot in this section, had all been repaired when the old mansion was repainted and thoroughly repaired some four years before our story begins. General Lane, its owner, was a perfect type of the Southern gentleman ; and as to property and influence, the most powerful man in the parish. He had come from Virginia years ago when he was quite a youth, and by the time the war began, he had half a dozen plantations in diiferent sections of the parish. He had lived for fifty years in this part of the country, and he held his head just a little bit higher than any man in our midst. True, he had good right to be proud, for did not the bluest blood of all the country flow in his veins, and did he not have one of the finest estates in all Louisiana, which, strange to relate, was free from all indebtedness ? Then there was a clear record back of him of fifty years for honesty and straight-forward dealing, and that of itself made his gray eyes sliine all the brighter beneath their long lashes, and made his step as quick as that of otiier men at forty who had more doubtful records to bear. Those were wonderful eyes of Gen- eral Lane's, rather kind for the most part, but they had a way of looking through you as if they could weigh you to your exact worth within a penny's weight-;-and woe to the man upon whom those eyes ever shone in anger. In the olden lime he had kept his negroes better clothed and better fed than any other man in the parish, which is saying a great deal ; but then, he required better woi-k fi'om them, and punished with rigor the truant who fell behind in his work. But they all 12 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS.' loved him dearly, and even to this day there was many an old "darky "who liailed him on the highway as "Mars Tom." It was just the same way with his dogs and horses, and every- thing that lived around him ; he saw that they were well fed and well attended to, and after that he had no mercy on them. Laziness, of all things in the world, lie hated most, and every animate creature on the place had to keep constantly on the stir. This trait accounted for the fact that while many of the other planters of the parish were losing their estates, the good general was adding constantly to his and improving it. The disasters which shipwrecked so many others had served to strengthen him only the more securely, and give his friends the greater confidence in him. When the war commenced, he started out as captain of a small company, but his strong will and West Point education had advanced him before the end to the position of lieutenant-general. He had never flinched through all the war, but when it was over he came calmly home and went to work ; and it was rarely that one ever heard of his deeds in warfare, and rarely did he speak un- kindly of tliose who overcame him. He was honest in fight- ing for the cause he loved; but, by and by, he came to tliink tliat it was better that it turned out as it did, and often said that he was glad, after all, that the negroes had been set free. Our story opens on the 10th day of May, 1878. The old general is sitting out on his front gallery in his shirt sleeves, smoking his cigar, and watching the smoke rise up into the clear blue air. It is five o'clock in the afternoon, and he has just finished reading the day's paper, which a negro boy had brought from Mound Station an hour before. A great black cloud came sweeping down the river about half an hour befoi;e, but it passed away without rain, and now as a consequence there is a pleasant breeze blowing in from the river, causing the good general to feel quite contented with his lot, and stall- ing all the mocking-birds and orioles, out in the cedars, to sing- ing in the wildest glee. Just a few days ago the first hot weather of the season had set in, and as tlie tenants on the general's estate are ahead in their work, they have almost finished chopping out their cotton for the first time ; and their content and happiness of heart is showing itself in tiie rich plantation songs which tliey are now singing, and which are floating in upon the breeze to the general's ear. He loves to hear them sing thus, for it reminds liim of his boyhood, and brings up many a happy thougiit of the good old times. An old lady comes out of the front door, takes her seat by A PRINCK OF GOOD FELLOWS. 13 the general, and starts a conversation with him. Her age might be anywhere between seventy and eighty ; liad you asked it of her slie would have been puzzled a moment before answeBl ing you. She is dressed in plain gray calico, only very neat and very clean. Thirty odd years ago the general and his wife had brought her with them from Virginia as a housekeeper, where they picked her up somewliere in the mountains duritg one of their summer trips ; and when the general's wife diej soon after the war, of yellow fever, he found her so efficient lie had put her in charge of all his domestic affairs. For ^^Q around she was known as Grandma Gray, and she was the first person one would send for when sick or in distress ; for, of si truth, she had nursed more sick, and aided more people in dis- tress than any other person in this section. True, her gram- mar was not exactly correct, and she had a dozen or more words one heard from no one else, and slie had caused tlie gen- eral and his friends many a merry smile on state occasions ; still, her heart was in such good condition, that one rarely noticed when her grammar went astray. In all things that had concerned the old general most, she had played a promi- nent part. She had helped bring up his children for him. The one proud boy who was killed at Gettysburg, fighting as a iiero should, had worshipped her beyond bounds. And that other son, the black sheep of the flock, who had taken to riding on that fascinating journey around "Walnut Bayou, and drinking whiskey and playing cards, and at last when they brought him liome from one of his drunken sprees to die — had not Grandm^ Gray nursed him till the bitter end, witli love and kindness, calling him " Iier boy," just as if he had been the flower o' the flock ? Then when the yellow fever broke out in the par- ish, and the general's wife was stricken down. Grandma G^M had stood at her post, though she dreaded the fever above^^ things, and when the poor wife was buried she took the infan| daughter to her own heart, giving it all the love and attention a motlier could give. This infant child was the last member of the general's family that was left him, and she was now the one bright flower around which all his hopes centred. Ethel was her name, grown into sixteen summers at the opening of our story ; but the summers sat so lightly on her golden curls, and her mirth and spirils were so high, that both her father and Grandma Gray looked upon her as quite a child, though she would have been indignant had any one else treated her as such. She is out in the front yard now, lying under the shade of one of the towering oaks, reading one of the latest novels ; 14 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. while close at her feet is her constant companion, a large New- foundland dog, " Nep " by name. "What is it, Grandma?" the general says, as the old lady comes and takes a seat beside him. "I've been a-thinkin'," begins the old lady, folding her hands in her lap. '' I've been a-thinkin' that that old bronze turkey gobbler of ours will have to be killed soon. Now that all the hens have flocks of young uns he ain't one bit of use, and he's a nuisance to the whole place and a miserj- to iiimself. He goes around struttin' all day and a corvortin' about, and dashin' into the flocks of young uns and upsettin' 'em, and when a young turkey once gets on its back it dies unless you pick it up again. I went out in the yard 'totlier day, and there he was just slingin' the little tui-keys over his back as though he thought it was fine fun. He had killed two outright, and lamed three more so they will never get well. If I don't kill him soon he'll kill every last young un I've got." " Well, Grandma," replies the general, throwing his cigar stump out into the yard, " I'm sure I have no objection to your killing the old turkey gobbler if you think it best. He is a magnificent specimen — will weigli thirty odd pounds at tlie least — and it would take us a week to eat him." "That's jist the pint I'm drivin' at. If we kill him we Iiave got to invite the neighboVs in to help us eat him. What with the hot weather, and all the flies, and nobody here to eat him but us three, he would spile in no time, I'm a-thinkin', and it would be a pity to have so fine a gobbler as that spile on our hands." " So that's your game ? " replies the old man. " You want to invite all the neighbors to come on one of these hot days,,and you want to dress me up in my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, and you want to make me keep my coat on all day, and be bored half to death by anecdotes I have told myself a thousand times, and which every boy in the land knows. The fellows who come to see you are bored, and they bore you ; and, tak- ing it all in all, this way of spending the day in hot weather, is the most barbarous custom now extant. But, Grandma, if there is no way to get rid of the old gobbler save by having tlie neighbors come and devour him, why, let them come, and I shall sweat and cuss and stand it as best I can." This thing of inviting folks to spend the day had always been a matter of difference between the general and grandma, he having a great dislike to the formal proceeding that dictated the exact time of coming and going. He much preferred to bay? those friends whom be really liked come mi spend 9. few A. PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 15 days with him, and he wished them to feel as free and easy as they did at their own homes. He had a way of making people feel at home in his house, without appearing to make an effort in that direction, and without insisting that they must feel that way. Anything formal or stiff he abhorred with his whole being ; and this spending the day he disliked above all else. But it was the custom of the neighborhood, and it gave Grand- ma Gray great pleasure to invite the neiglibors ; though she worked herself well-nigh to death getting ready for them, and had no end of trouble cleaning up after they left. The old lady is silent a moment, and then remarks : " Yes, Gineral, I know you don't like it, but it's got to be gone through with. There are lots of tilings in tliis world that one has to do that one does not like. Every one of our neigh- bors has invited us since we have invited them, and though you never go yourself, there is Ethel and me who like to see folks now and then, and if we don't invite the neighbors soon they will quit invitin' us. It is already the talk of the whole parish that you are a little bit prouder than you should be, and if you quit invitin' folks to spend the day with us, they will say wuss things about you than that." " It matters very little what they say about me," he replies; " but, after all, it is best, as you say, to have them come to see us. Why can't they act like sensible folks — stop in any time of the day, and come when they feel like it and go when they feel like it? But when they come with the full understanding that they are to sit it out all day, though, they die at the under- taking, it is a terrible job to get through with. One feels tliat lie is boring his neighbors even more than they are boring him. But kill the gobbler, and have them here, the sooner the better. Let's have it done ! " " But whom must I invite ? " she asks. '• 'Tis enough for me to sit all day with my coat on, bored half to death, not to be made to mention my persecutors before- hand. Invite anybody you wish. Grandma." "Shall I invite Major Rankin and family?" " Yes, if you wish. They are preeminently respectable, and though I know every story of his by heart, having listened to them all a hundred times, still he will do. He will be sure to tell us how he captured a hundred Yankees with only a dozen men of his own. He has told tliat story over so often that he actually believes it. Everybody knows it's a lie; even he him- self knew it was a lie when he first began telling it. Well, let him come. We can stand it once more." ." And the Prowns, jnugt I invite them ? " 16 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. " Yes, if you wish." " And the Brewsters ? " " Yes, by all means." " May I invite Jim Longley and his wife ? " " It would be no use, Grandma, they would not come. They have become such inveterate opium-eaters, they never leave their house now. It would only be a pain to them. 'Tis a sad story this, Gi'andma, a sad story." " So I iiave said a hundred times myself," replied she. " They belonged to sich a fine old family before the war, who were as well-to-do and as tiirifty as could be ; but when all the trouble and disaster came of dealin' with free niggers, instead of bravin' it all like a man and goin' to work as he should, why, he's taken to that miserable medicine, and is sleepin' his life away ; while old John Selden is a-buyin' up the last acre of land he's got and lettin' him have money at three per cent, per month to get his morphine with, and takin' his land at half its worth to pay the debt, and all the time a-pratin' o' the glory of God. Some terrible judgment will come on that man yet, you jist wait and see." " Bosh, bosh, Grandma, don't you go to talking about judg- ments. Why, he'll go on cheating ' niggers ' and buying Jim Longley's land till the crack o' doom. And he will keep on taking my tenants from me when they are under contract, in the middle of the crop when they are needed most, and tell them all manner of lies to induce them off, till some day I shall take down my stick from the rack yonder, and beat him till there is not a whole bone in liis body. That is the only judg- ment he is likely to get. I have started to do it a hundred times." " Ah, it's a shame, a shame, to have him talkin' all the time o' the glory of God, and then have him imposin' on every neighbor he's got, and thinkin' o' nothin' but money for his own pockets. And then to think of that beautiful little boy of his being brought up among niggers, and bein' taught all the tricks of cheatin' niggers, and all in the name of the Lord." 'Tis a moment before the old man answers ; then he replies : " It's a shame, a great shame, Grandma. How that man ever came to iiave such a beautiful child is a mystery to me, and to think that he is bringing him up to be just like himself is the greatest shame I know of. With but half-way training he would make a noble man, but under that man's influence he will make a second Jolm Selden. Anyway, I wish you would send for the child to come the day you have your dinner. He geems to enjoy being here," A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 17 " Ethel will see to that, Gineral. As 70U know, they are great friends." " And, Grandma, I wish you would send down to Delta to invite young Howard Sayer. He's just getting a start at law there, and he is such a bright, noble young fellow, it is a pleas- ure to have him around. I was in his office the other day, and I was so pleased with him I have decided to give him all my smaller cases. It is a joy to me to think that old Judge Sayer will have such a prop to lean on in his declining years. But it is only right that it should be so after all his troubles. He has many children, but Howard is the flower of the flock." " Who else must I invite ? " " Everybody, everybody, the whole parish if you wish. — Here, Ethel, come in off of that damp ground! It's getting too late to be reading novels out there on the grass." And the young girl runs in and throws her arms around her father's neck and kisses him. 2 18 A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER II. Bdt before I tell you liow grandma killed the great bronze gobbler, and how the neighbors came, from far and near, and feasted on him, I must tell you something more about Miss Ethel, and how John Selden had come to the parish ten years before with scarcely a dollar in his pockets, and how by ' cheat- in' niggers and a pratin' o' the glory of God "he had become one of the most prominent planters in our midst. " From the day the general had buried his wife, his little daughter had become the joy of his life. Every other hope had been blighted long ago. His two boys, for whom he had worked and accumulated, had gone over to the majority — the one fighting at Gettysburg under the general's command, the youngest and brightest and handsomest of all taking to drink- ing and card playing, and was one day brought home from one of his drunken sprees to die, when the general's cup of sorrow was filled to the brim. Then, to add the last stroke to his af- flictions, his wife, with whom he had lived in love and harmony for thirty years, was taken from him, and all that was left him was his little infant babe. But as the oak, even when old, when its top-most bough is stricken off by lightning or by storm, will, by and by, put forth new branches of verdure and luxuriance, so when the old hopes and ambitions in the gen- eral's life liad been cut oflf by the hand of Providence, there soon sprang forth new loves and hopes which all centred in this one white flower ; his little daughter Ethel. She had grown up under the influences of the old plantation, and its fullness and richness had moulded her life into Southern beauty and Southern grace. She had been given into grandma's care until she was five years old, when the general was reminded one evening by the quaint use the child made of one of grandma's pet words, that there was one thing that it would not do for her to train the little girl in ; and that was the Queen's Eng- lish. So he sent to his native State and engaged a governess for the child, who taught her to talk as correctly as the average young lady of the time. In all else save in grammar grandma had the moulding hand, and Ethel soon gave her all the love she might have given to her own mother. But in most things she had gotten her moulding and making from the fullness and richness of the old plantation. The A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLO\*'S. 19 breeze which would blow in so often from the great rivei-, had entered into her spirits and life, had added to her quick spriglitly actions, and gave her mucli of her charm'. Ever since slie had been six years old she had been allowed to romp and run at large over tlie broad expanse of the home planta- tion. Nothing harmed her, all things loved her. The old darkies would pluck the first ripe berries and give to her; the fat, sleek, long-eared mules would liold down their ungainly heads for her to caress them, or take a proffered morsel from her hand. Slie wonld spring upon her pet pony, without bridle or saddle, and go dashing over the fields with all the sprightliness of a wood-nymph. There had been no affliction nor sorrow to blight the youth- ful beauty and joy of her life. She was like the rose-bud open to the dews of the morning ere yet the worm has eaten to the core of its blossom, or the hot sun of mid-day despoiled it of its tender bloom. The fresh, open air had given a color to her face, and an elasticity to her step which the few attacks of sickness she had could not efface. As a child she loved the autumn upon the plantation better far than any other season of the year. The picking of the cotton was a sight that gave her joy, and she would ofttimes spring from her pony and help an old darkie by picking a handful or two, going on all the time with lier meny prattle ; then, after placing the cotton in the old darkie's cotton-sack, she would springagain upon her pony and rush off like the wind. But on the day the cotton gin started her heart would receive its fullness of joy. She would mount the highest pile of cotton, and resting upon its snowy-white- ness, she would shove it down on its way to the stand, listening the while to the wild whirring of the cotton gins as they separated tiie seed from the lint ; and as the whirring of the saws would lull her into happy reveries, many pleasant fancies would come trooping in upon her, which would cause the color in her cheeks to grow brighter and the light in lier eyes to shine with a deeper joy. Ah me ! she had had her fancies like every other little girl since the world began. From her tenth year on, her large Newfoundland dog Nep had been her sole confidant in these fancies. He would look and listen with such wise, knowing looks when she would tell him of her dreams, and he had this advantage over all two-legged confidants, he said nauglit of what she told him to other folks. Like all other girls just verging on their teens, she had read of princes and warriors and heroes coming down the road, and slie had dreamed that mayhaps in the golden coming time one all glorjr-crowne4 wok14 cpjpe down the ro^d into jier ownjjfe an^ 20 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. fill it full of joy. At such times she would throw her arms around Nep's shaggy neck and tell him of the kind of hevo she wished. "Ah, Nep, old boy," she would say, with the bright light flasliing in her eyes ; " he must be brave, so brave that he would die for me at any time. I think he must be rich too, Nep, but if I loved him very greatly, it would not matter very much iibout that. But I must love him, Nep, old boy, must love him, must love him so hard that were he out yonder in the great river drowning and I could not help liim out, it would be a pleasure and a joy to me to throw myself in and drown there by his side." Nep listened, but he said naught about it. In his own youth lif had such fancies, a case oi' I wo of puppy-love of Ids own, but they had passed by without blighting the peaceful serenity of his happy old age. " She will look at it differently, too," Ihought he, (if he thought aught about it at all), " when she has turned forty and has half a dozen children of her own." If there was aught of beauty or loveliness in the life of John Selden, his neighbors had failed to find it. About ten years before our story opens he had come to the parish, from nobody knew where, with just enough money to start a negro store ; where he kept mean tobacco, flour, and such other articles as the negroes desired to purchase. When he came he brought a young wife, without education and very plain ; but after giv- ing birth to an infant boy, the malaria and bad living had proved too much for her, and she too had passed over to the majority. When John Selden had first come with his family, the neighbors had called them " common white folks;" and in after years lie often repeated it, saying that they had called them " poor folks," and bragging at the time of the dollars he had made ; forgetting tliat though he might have a million he was just as common now as the day he came, that making money as he did could never shelter him from the accusation made against him when he first came. But liis sole aim in life centred on this one thing, to squeeze out of his neighbors and the negroes of the country, by every manner of trick and slirewdness, all he could. General Lane's policy had been to charge the negroes, whom he furnished with supplies, good fair prices, and then to give them full measure and exactly what he promised. John Selden's policy had been to sell them inferior goods at cheap rates, (so as to get their trade), and then to make up by adulterations and false measurement and weights. By degrees he began to buy up land in small tracts, as he could get it J then he cotnmepced a poHcjr in exact opposition to the A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 21 best interests of bis neighbors. Tlie negioes were like mere children, and had no idea of the bindingforce of a contract. Gen- eral Lane bad tried lo make it the rule of the parish for a neighbor not to take his tenants away from liim when tiiey were under contract. John Selden had taken tenants from every neighiior he had, and induced tiiem to leave even in the middle of the crop, when they were most needed. General Lane bad insisted that the only hope for the success of the jjlanters was to work together and to bbserve each other's interests. John Selden had fought for no man's interest save his own, and had infringed on all his neighbors' rights. And through it all be was continually talking of the grace and the glory of God. Sti-ange to say, he prospered. When by his shrewdness he would get a new piece of land, he would say he got it by the mercy of the Lord ! He was always saying : " You have only to believe in the Lord, and believe you are going to do it, and you can do anything. I shall get rich yet, I shall be prosperous, I shall be a success yet, by the grace of the Lord." That is what he was constantly repeating to him- self and to his little boy. It is strange that he never once thought tliat the Lord whom he pretended to follow had never once turned aside to make a dollar, had never once spoken a word of commendation of those whose sole end in life was mak- ing dollars, and instead of seeking success and prosperity, sought ignominy and obscurity, and went down to death amid the ridicule of the world. 'Tis strange that John Selden had never thouglit of this. The relations between Jim Longley and John Selden had been anything but a credit to the latter gentleman. When Jolin Selden first came to the country he found Jim Longley and his wife badly under the influence of the opium habit, and with their property mortgaged lo hiilf its value. He began a policy wiiich in twelve years resulted in his owning all their land. He took advantage of their craving desire for the drug, and would lend them money at unheard-of interest; and when tiie amount became large enough, he would buy up a piece of tlieir land to pay the debt. At the opening of our story he had bought up all their land but fifty acres, which were fast being taken up in supplies of money to buy the accursed di'ug. John Selden did not take the trouble to find out what became of the money, but he had an idea, as well as the rest of the community, where it went. He had bought the old Longley residence two years ago, and at the opening of our story Jim Longley and liis wife are living in a two-roomed negro cabin on one corner of the place, sleeping their lives away. It is easy 22 A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. to see that there will be no good will existing between Jim Longley and John Selden when the former has all his land gone from him, and no money to buy his morphine with. But the one fact in John Selden's life which seems most to he retrretted just now, is the fact that he is bringing up his only child°to believe and follow in his ways. Dan is his name ; black-eyed, loving Dan. How this beautiful boy ever came to be born to John Selden was a mystery alike to black and white. Tlie boy is open-hearted, loyal, loving, and true; and Jolin Selden is shrewd, avaricious, tricky, thinking only of money for his own pockets, and he is trying with all his might and main to teach his boy to be like himself. He will talk to his little child, of whom he is truly proud, of money and how to make it, by the hour ; and have him make calculations in re- gard to money-making, and put him in the store to clerk, wheie he is sure to hear the vilest language from the field hands. But up to this time none of the evil has entered into the little man's soul. In spite of John Selden's teaching, he is as noble a little fellow as can be found in all the land. He has jiis lieart full of sympathy for all living things. The old darkies all love him. He has won the hearts of the neighbors in spite of his father's meanness. The dumb animals follow him every- where, knowing that he is their friend. In plain words, he is beautiful, the swiftest in motion, the blackest of eyes, and in those eyes the sweetest of love-lights, which tells that he knows naught of the greed of the world. He loves all things ; he is like the angels of God. And for this child John Selden has planned such a future ! He might be so high-minded and good under noble influences ! His whole future depends upon his associations. Good influences would lead him to nobility and true honor. John Selden has planned for him a course of shrewdness and avarice. The hoy is loving and easily led. Whitherward is he going ? God only knows 1 A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 23 CHAPTER III. It is the middle of May. Three days before, all the invi- tations had been sent out to the neighbors to come and spend the day at General Lane's. The afternoon before, the great bronze gobbler had been killed ; and when they tried to weigh him, lo! the house scales were not large enough, and he had to be sent to the store, where he turned the larger scales at thirty-two and a half pounds. , Grandma spoke of him in after years as the biggest turkey she had ever raised in all her life. It is nine o'clock in the morning now, and General Lane is walking up and down the front gallery in a not very pleasant frame of mind. He had made up his mind to be bored j0&t this once, but he had not calculated exactly how hot it would be. It is evident that the fates are against him. Summer had set in in full force a few days before, and though it is still early in the morning, there is not a particle of breeze astir, and tha perspiration is already standing in beads upon the old gentleman's face. And to add to his general discomfort, grandma gave him no peace until he dressed himself in his best broadcloth suit, which was far too warm for the season. For more than an hour he has been pacing the gallery, look- ing up and down the road, wondering when his first visitor will put in an appearance. Now that he has made up his mind to swallow the pill, he wishes the affair to begin. He marches to the door opening into tlie hall and calls out : " Grandma, when are those folks coming ? " The old lady hears the call, and comes from the kitchen, where she has been seeing to the cooking of dinner. She comes on the gallery where the general is. " Did you call me, Gineral ?" " I just wanted to know when I may expect those folks to put in an appearance. Here I have walked this gallery for two blessed hours, looking up the road and tlien looking down the road, but not a blasted soul has come yet." " Now, Gineral, there is no earthly use in your carryin' on in that way, a-worryin' and a-botherin' yourself, and a wantin' fjblks to come- before the sun is fairly up, and then expectin' to be bored to death when they get here. I do wish you would beliave like one with common-sense ! Don't you know that 24 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. when folks are invited to spend the day that it ain't decent for tlieni to come before ten or eleven o'clock ? " " Let us thank the Lord for tliat ! " says the old man, with mucli emphasis. And at this remark Grandma Gray becomes disgusted, and siaits back to her work in the kitchen, but the old man stops hef. " Now,Grandma,you and I had as well come to an understand- ii;; about this matter at once. If you will march off and bring me my old alpaca coat, and let me wear that to-day, I will be- have nicely and do just as you would have me ; but if you keep me dressed up in this hot coat, feeling like I was in Hades, why I'll cuss and fum.e and sweat till 1 drive every last visitor away." The old woman looks at him a moment. There is a determ- ination in his eyes which tells her that he means what he says. He is very handsome as he is, dressed in his broadcloth suit, with his straight form, his broad shoulders and his flashing eyes, and grandma would like above all things for the neighbors to see him looking like this ; but she knows that it will not do to force matters with him — past experience has taught her this. She goes out, gets the old alpaca, and liands it to him. ' " It's been a conundrum to me all my livin' days," says the old lady, " why a man who can look as handsome as you can when you are dressed up, will always insist on wearin' old clothes ; and then to think you mout have as fine clothes as any man in the State if you had a mind to do so ! " He does not take the time to tell her that a little comfort now in his old age is more to him than all the good looks in the world. He taki^s the coat, puts it on, and grandma goes back to her work in the kitchen. He makes two more turns up and down tlie gallery, then he says to himself half aloud : " If Major Eankin starts to telling that yarn of his about capturing one hundred Yankees, I am not going to stand it. The weather is too hot. I shall stop him. It takes him half an hour to get through with the whole affair, and I have heard it a hundred times already. I thoHght five days ago I could stand it once more, but the weather was cooler then." He marches to his large-armed rocking-chair at the far end of the gallery. Even in his old alpaca he is a striking man. He seats himself in the chair, takes out a cigar, and begins to smoke. Pleasant fancies flit through his mind. He is thinking of young Howard Sayer who is coming to see him, the one visitor with whom he is truly in accord. He looks out over the cotton fields. It is a far-reaching expanse, this of his. The A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 25 coUon is small yet, and you can just recognize it by the long rows of green which extend down the field. Here and there are the sleek mules marching from turn-row to turn-row, while the plows are throwing away from the plants the dark, rich mould, so that tlie hoe-hands may follow and chop it out to a stand. The general loves to sit thus and look out over the fields and watch the work as it is going on. It is especially pleasant for him this day, for the weather has been good, and his tenants have kept well up with their work, and as yet no poor fellow has fallen behind. The outlook is truly fine just at present. He is fully two weeks ahead of wliat he was this time last year, and will have all of his crop worked up before the June rains set in. And as he looks out over the fields, still other fancies troop in upon his mind. He is getting old now, and soon he must leave it all behind ; must leave his Ethel, too, without any near relative to take care of lier. His only wish is that he may live long enougli to see her married to some good man who is worthy of her, and who is wise enough to take care of his large estate. He is thinking of one now who is all nobility and honesty, and wise too for his years. It would be a joy to his declining days to feel that Etiiel were wedded to such a one, who would be kind to her always, and who would have skill enough to manage his great estate. He will use no force in the matter. If it comes it must come through love, and be brought about by the heavenly powers. Maidens' fan- cies are too frail things to be led by force. He is thinking thus when a negro boy rides up to the front gate, hitches his horse, and, marching in, hands the general a note. It is from Howard Sayer, stating that it will be impos- sible for him to come and dine that day, as he has a case in the magistrates' court of whicli he knew nothing till the night be- fore. He reads the note, then writes on the back : " Try to come down in the afternoon when your case is over ; " and hands the note to the boy, requesting him to give it to Mr. Sayer. By and by, tlie general sees Miss Ethel dashing down the road on her pet pony with little Dan Selden riding behind her. She had ridden all the way down to John Selden's store to ask that the boy might come to spend the day with them. Slie rides in at the front gate, turns her pony on the Bermuda grass to graze, then runs up to the front gallery, where her father is sitting, with Dan following close behind her. "Here's Dan, Papa. I rode down to Mr. Selden's store and brought him up behind me on the pony." " Well, Dan, my little man," says he, extending his hand to 26 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. him, " I am glad to see you. How are you ? So you have come to spend the day with us ? " The boy ta^es the proffered hand and a little tremor runs through him. The stately-looS- ino' old man has half-frightened him, still he answers : _ _ °' Papa said I might stay here all day if I got back in time to feed the mules." When he has said this he backs up against the wall with his hands folded behind him, raising one foot against the wall and standing upon the other. 'Tis an attitude that boys often assume°when they are embarrassed. For a moment the gen- eral says nothing, but looks at the boy with a kindly smile playing over iiis face. There is sometliing in the child that reminds him of his own beautiful boy, the one that took to rid- ing around Walnut Bayou, and whom they brought home drunk, one day, to die. Dan had won the old man's heart by Ills unselfish ways long ago. As he stands there against the wall, with his raised foot kicking it, he would make a picture that Murillo would have loved to paint. He is not dressed in taste. John Selden had taken pains to clothe him just as plainly as he could. The trousers are too long by six inches for a boy of eight years. He has on no tie. The suit of clothes was taken from the stock that was to be sold to the negroes. Yet in spite of all the pains that John Selden has taken to make his boy look common, the child is beautiful. In his dark, black eyes, his little soul is shining forth in such a way as not to be hidden by all the common clothes that John Selden has put upon him. After a moment's reflection the old man says: " So your father makes you help feed the mules ? How old are you, my little man ? " " Eight years old last March, but I am going on nine now. I like to help feed tlie mules. They will let me pet them, and I can catch them all, even to old Frightin' Jack, who won't let a negro man on the place catch him." 'Twas true, old " Fightin' Jack" had the very devil in him, would fight like a tiger when a man tried to catch him ; but the moment that lit- tle Dan came near he would hold down his old, long head, and let the bridle be put over his ears. Even the old mule, by lonjj experience, had learned whom to love. The general, seeing that the boy does not feel quite at his ease, Siiys : " WpU, Ethel, you and Dan run off and play, and when you get tired come back and talk some more to me," and with this they are off like the wind. And now eleven o'clock has arrived and the neighbors begin to put in an appearance. First, Major Rankin with his three A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. . 27 grown daughters and wife arrive, Tbie old general is at the front steps to meet them, looking as handsome and as jovial as grandma would have him look. Then comes Mrs. Brewster, tl»e nice sweet widow lady, whom every one likes, with her only child, a girl of ten. After them the Browns put in an appearance. Then come trooping in the remaining neighbors from far and near. I shall introduce you to them eii masse with but little ceremony. With the exception of Mrs. Brews- ter and her little girl, they figure but slightly in these pages. They will come in now and tlien, as the soldiers, the peasants, and the choruses do in the opera, and I wish you to cast but a momentary glance at them. They are mainly people of re- finement and education, with peculiarities of their own, (as all the world has), having had to undergo, especially in the last ten years, many disappointments and disasters.. But they liave stood up under them all with brave hearts, and would be classed in most countries as people of moderate culture. But I ask your attention in favor of Mrs. Brewster, the sweet widow lady, who will enter the story again at a later day. She had come from Maryland on a visit to Vicksburg when she was a young lady, possessing every cliarm of refinement and culture her native State could give; and had shortly after- wards married a prominent Southern gentleman, a planter liv- ing in Madison Parish. There had been eleven children born to them ; alas, only to have ten of them torn from them by the hand of Death ! Soon the husband, too, was taken from her, and now there was just one girl left, her little Mary. But her sorrows and afflictions, which would have served to make most people sour, had only made her sweeter and more lovely, and had caused people to love her all the more. She had the nicest little bird's-nest of a home, a comfortable though small income, and she spent her time in educating her little girl, in cultivating her flowers, and in keeping, the neatest, cleanest little home that could be found in the State of Louisiana. She held the esteem and love of the whole section ; she was one of the few persons of whom no one spoke any harm. This day the general gave her a hearty hand-shake and a pleasant smile, for she had long been a favorite with him. The company are seated on the wide front gallery in the shade of the oaks, for it is too insufferably hot to remain in the house, and the genei-al had the good sense not to take them into the parlor. They are talking of subjects that are of interest to cotton planters : of the condition of the cotton crop ; the rise in the cotton market ; 'the prospect of the June rains setting in soon and stopping the work ; the appearance of a 28 A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. cotton worm upon a neighboring plantation, which the general thought was a grass worm after all. But such talk is not likely to prove of interest to ihe general reader, so we omit it. Grandma is dividing her time between her guests and the bak- ing of the great gobbler in the kitchen, running from the one to^the other with but little ceremony. Two or three times Major Rankin has started upon the war, when the general, by a skilful counter-charge, succeeds in changing the conversa- tion. And now dinner is ready, and grandma invites the company in. Many exclamations and remarks of surprise are made over the old gobbler. Grandma Gray had always been proud of her turkeys, and she feels now that she will go down to [losterity as tiie champion turkey raiser of the. parish. Not one of the guests had ever seen a turkey that weiglied as much as thirty-two pounds and a half, and they tell the old lady (his, anil ii, fills her heart with joy, just like winning some great bat- tle pleases a famous warrior. " I 'lowed as he war a big un," she would reply in lier pride. Diimer is a long, hot, tedious affair. There is a repetition of the old anecdotes and puns which the parish had lieard for thirty years. The ladies are complimented in the same way, and in the same words that have been used for time out of mind ; and over and above it all, the extreme heat makes it well-nigh unbearable. Major Rankin has constantly been verging upon telling his wonderful exploit, and the general has been as assiduous in warding it off. And now dinner is over and they march out to the front gallery where a breeze is springing up. A dark cloud is float- ing down the river, and theie is a promise of a refreshing shower. Grandma has coffee brought out and handed around to her guests ; then feeling that she has done all that is re- quired of her, and priding herself that it has all passed off as well as could be wished, she takes a seat amid her guests and decides to take the rest of the day in ease. About an hour after dinner the boy brings the mail in from Mound Station. Tiiere are the daily papers which the general hands around to his guests, and several letters for himself which he opens and begins to read. He reads through the first one and then re- maiks : " Here is a letter from Dr. Whiteliead in regard to the new doctor he has been trying to get for us for the last six months. He says that he has managed .to secure us a young man at last and that he will send him over in a few days to look around to A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 29 see how he likes the place, and that it is more than probable that he will settle at the Mounds." " So there's to be another one come to die at that place," replies grandma. " It seems to me that these doctors would have gotten their fill o' that place long ere this. It's been nothin' but a death's trap to the whole lot of 'em. Five of 'em have died there in the last seven years, and liere's another one a-comin' a-throwin' liis life away a-doctorin' free niggers, and its blessed little thanks and money he will get for liis pains." " Well, Grandma," says Major Rankin, " we have got to have a doctor of some kind, and if one dies now and then it does not matter very much. True, as you say, five fine young fellows have died at that place in the last seven years ; fine, bright young fellows, most of them ; but then, they were a wild dashing set, who exposed themselves to every danger, and who did not practice what tliey preached. Had they taken better care of themselves they whould not have fared so badly. Does Dr. Whitehead say anything about what kind of young man this one is?" The latter sentence was addressed to the general. " Listen," replies General Lane> taking the letter again from its envelope. " I will read you what he says. " I cannot say whether you swamp people will like the young doc- tor I am about to send you, and if I could find another who was willing to encounter the dangers of your swamp, I am not sure I would send you this one. Do not think from this that he is not smart and well up in his profession. He took the second honor out of a class of seventy odd at the Louisville Medical College, and is as bright as any young man I know of. But he is better suited to a city than a country practice. He is very liberal in his views in re- gard to medicine, and while he is not, out and out, a Homeopathist, still he believes very much their way. He has not much confidence in large doses of strong medicines, but believes in healthy living aud healthy habits as the all-powerful remedy. He does not believe in giving calomel at all, and quinine only in small doses. I hardly think that this will suit you. Anyway, in most things he is right, and after all he is the only one I could get to consent to take the place. After you have killed five of our brightest young men at that death's hole of yours there at the Mounds you should not be over particular as to whom you get next. The young man I send you fears nothing, not even death. He is as brave as a lion. His name is John Brandon.' " At the statement in the letter that the new doctor did not believe in giving calomel at all, and quinine only in broken doses, grandma was up in ai-ms at once. The thing goes against all lier life-practice and belief, and she scarcely give? 30 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. the general time to finish before she breaks forth into indig- nant protest. " Wlioever thought I should a-lived to see this thing come about? To think of a doctor who didn't give no calomel at all, and quinine only in broken doses! I should as lief have a sick chicken a-doctorin' o' me as such a weak-gilled critter as that. I can't see how a man can be a Christian and not be- lieve in calomel. It is somethin' like denyin' the divinity o' Christ to say tliat that medicine is no account. Since I have been in this swamp country, which has been over thirty years now, I have given enough of that medicine to fill two waggin loads, and charged nothin' for it nuther ; and now in my old age to hear of this young upstart denyin' its virtues jist fairly riles me. I do believe that if it had not been for that medicine, that every nigger and white man, too, in Madison Parish would have been dead long ago. I'll not have that new doctor a-foolin' around me, and if I had my way he should never set foot in this house." A bright smile breaks and beams over the general's face. He did not think when he was reading the passage in the letter how it would stir up the old woman, how much it went against all her pet theories and practices. For thirty odd years she had dosed the sick and ailing for ten miles around, when- ever they were too poor to send for a physician, or wlien no physician was to be had. She had numbered her patients by the hundred, and her invariable remedy had been calomel. She had one fixed dose, from which she never departed — as much as would rest conveniently on the end of a teaspoon — to wliici) she always added a pinch for lagniappe, to be sure that the dose was large enough. "When it did not kill, the patient usually got well. Whether the patient would not have stood a better chance without the calomel is a matter quite unneces- sary to discuss. The old lady was riglit when she said that in her day she had given nearly two " waggin loads of this medi- cine." General Lane had good cause to know this trait in grandma, having sufifered himself at her hands ; and as he thought of her indignation at the new doctor, and of the end- less warfare that would be waged between the two, the smile spread over his whole face. " Well, Grandma," says he, "you had just as well prepare for warfare, for the Pliilistines are upon you. You and the new doctor must fight it out between you. Calomel or no cal- omel, the warfare must rest between you two. I shall not en- ter the list, but I must say that I believe the new doctor is more than half right," A PKINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 31 The old womaQ has her ire fairly aroused now. She is trembling with indignation. Had any one denied the Trinity she would not be more aroused. "He can't be nuther a white man nor a Christion and not believe in givin' calomel. Jist to think I should a-lived to see a doctor arcomin' to this swamp and so weak in the knees as not to believe in calomel. He sha'u't set foot in this house as long as I have a say in the matter. I say he sha'n't. 1 would not let him dose a sick chicken o' mine, less more a hu- man being." " But, Grandma, the letter says the new doctor is brave and smart, and I know well that Dr. Whitehead would not send him to us if there was anything materially wrong in the man. Before you get so belligerant over the matter, just let's wait and see." And they did wait, and saw the outcome of it all^— how a brave man came into this land of death, bearing with him brave, liberal ideas, far in advance of Iiis day, and saw him pass, like his predecessors, over into the country where the majority dwell. But of this more in the pages that follow. 32 A PRINCE OF GOOD FKLLOWS. CHAPTER IV. And now all the guests have departed. The great black cloud which came floating down the river, has burst forth in a refreshing shower; not enough to stop the workers on the morrow, but just sufficient to cool the air and settle the dust on the highways, which in the forenoon had made travelling disagreeable. The rain having fallen, the air becoming cool, the mocking-birds now make acknowledgement of the fact in wild bursts of song. The sun is about an hour high. The rain has driven the plows from the field — the hoe-hands, too — and now the sleek, fat mules come galloping into the lot, shak- ing their sides as the gearing is removed. The rain, to them, at least, has been a blessing ; for they have long since become fagged by the heat of the day and the weight of the plow, and it is with a joyous bray they rush to the pond to relieve their thirst. Ethel and little Dan come running in from their play. " I must go home now. General," cries the little man, his eyes flashing with the joy he feels, and his cheeks burning rosy-red with the excitement of his play. " I must go home, General, for it's almost time to feed the mules," says he, run- ning up to the old man's side. The general places his hand upon the boy's head, and looks at him for a moment ere he speaks. " Can't you stay all night with us, Dan ? I don't think your father would care if you failed to help feed the mules just this once. The hired man can do that by himself to-night, and you can stay all night with us, and play with Ethel till bed-time and have a grand old time." For just one moment the light in the boy's eyes brightens. This thing would be a great pleasure to him. The general's house is a more pleasant place than his own home. Then his sense of duty mounts higher than his desire for pleasure. The light dies out from his eyes. " I wish I could, but papa might get mad if I was not there to feed, and to-morrow there would be nobody there to catch old Fightin' Jack. He's got to plow to-morrow. It's busy times now and all the mules on the place have to work, and if I was not there to catch him all the hands on the plantation oould not do it. He fights like a wildcat. Last month when A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS.- 33 I had tlie fever, five grown men tried to catch liim. but he pawed and bit them till tiiey had to give it up. He's a wild un, but he loves me, and will let me do anything I please." The old man takes the little boy upon his knees. " So the old mule, too, has learned to love you ! 'Tis strange liow love will conquer even the wild beasts ! But you might as well stay with us to-night. I will write a note to your father telling him I kept you, and if old ' Fightin' Jack ' i-efuses to be cauglit in the morning, and your father gets behind, I promise to lend him ten mules for one day to pay up for your pleasure, little man." The boy puts his arms around the general's neck. " I should like to stay with you ever so much, but — " and here he pauses a moment, " — but I think I had better go. Papa might not like it. I should rather be there to help feed, for the hired man might not give them enough. He might steal their food from them, and then they would not iiave enough, and to-mor- row tiiey would have to work all day hungry. I can't bear to think of the poor things working so hard, and it so hot and they hungry too. General, I reckon I had better go." " Yes, Papa," interrupts Miss Ethel, " Dan is right. His father might not like it if we kept him, and I know he will sleep with a clearer conscience when his work is done. He will come back soon to see us, won't you, Dan?" So Miss Ethel took the little boy behind her on her pony, and together they rode back to John Selden's store. That night as tlie sun went down the little boy was at his post iielp- ing the hired man feed the mules. You might have seen him had yon passed that way, shucking the ears of corn, and throw- ing them into the troughs. And when his work was finished, he mounted up on the back of old " Fightin' Jack," where he rested, watching them for awhile. Then he scampered off to the house to get his supper and thence to bed. Sweet sleep was not long in coming. He dreamed that he was in a sunlit land filled to overflowing with beautiful flowers, and all over and under and around that land there were oceans of love. Sleep on, little man, in that fair land of dreams. God bless thee, little boy. That same afternoon, about sundown, Howard Sayer rode from Delta to the general's house, where he spent the evening and night. Grandma, the general, Ethel and Howard sat out in the cool. of the evening, talking till a late hour. Although young Sayer liad settled at Delta only a few years before, he had already won the esteem and confidence of the whole paiish, 3 34 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. and was fast working his way into a good practice. He was so noble and kind and considerate with old people that he had long since won tlie love of the general and grandma. Had they been called upon to mention the most estimable young man they knew of, they would have both answered witliout hesitation Howard Sayer ; two-thirds of the other inhabitants of the parish would have given the same answer. Howard was in no way dissipated, the great curse of many of our young men. He put all iiis time to good uses. His manners were polished. In disposition he was kind and loving. It is no wonder then that the old man and woman had come to love him, and that that afternoon as he rode in from Delta the old general should have given him a most cordial welcome. Sitting out there on the front gallery in the pleasant May evening, they conversed of many things ; of the young lawyer's prospects in particular, and of the future outlook of the parish in general. Young Sayer was buoyantly hopeful over his prospects. Many of the larger planters were assisting him, and his practice was increasing every month. By and by, when the moon had climbed above the fops of the trees, Ethel brought out her guitar, and asked Howard to sing for them. Howard Sayer was a sweet singer, who did not object to giving his friends the full benefit of his powers ; so they had one hour of song. He sang principally the old plan- tation melodies, which have become so dear to the people of the South. The mocking-birds hearing the sounds of music and seeing the moon so bright, awoke from their slumbers and joined in the choruses with their joyous strains. The whole world seemed overflowing with music. That night the old general went to bed very happy, and next morning when the young lawyer rode away, he said : " God bless you, Howard, my boy. I am as proud of you as if you were my own boy. Be sure to come down to see us whenever you can." A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 35 CHAPTER V. Leaving out two old negroes, who will enter the story at a later day, I have now introduced to you all my characters witli the exception of two. One of them is John Brandon, the young doctor of whom you have heard some talk in a previous chapter, and the other is no less a personage than myself. I shall devote the next chapter to the young doctor, and in this I must give you an account of the editor of this woi-k — Napo- leon Warrington Crabtrie — ^who has no small part to play in the pages of this book. There are still a few people living in this enlightened age, (God be praised they are few !), who are unable to see through a brick wall with a hole in it ; and for the benefit of such, if any of that class should come upon these pages, I wish to say that the editor (Napoleon Warrington Crabtrie) is quite a difierent person from the writer, who is not mentioned once in its page«. My name is Napoleon Wariington Crabtrie, and I say it with pride, that tliere is more blue blood flowing in my veins tlian in any otlier man in the parish, with the exception of the general. In fact, my blue blood is about all the possession of which I can boast, as I am tlie owner of not one foot of ground, and at times of not more than two good shirts to my back. My mother (I mention my mother first, for I was always prouder of her than of my father), belonged to the noble War- rington family of Virginia, (the one made famous by Thack- eray in the Virginians). Her name was Priscilla Warrington, and coming to Louisiana on a visit to Uncle George Warring- ton, (George was always a favorite name in tlie family), who owned a large plantation in Madison Parish, she fell in love with a young teacher hired by Uncle George to teach his chil- dren, and maiTied him, much against the wishes of her family. His name was James Crabtrie. He had been educated at Harvard and came South as a teacher to seek his fortune, but instead found a devoted wife in the person of my mother, who followed him through every struggle and misfortune, devoting her 'entire love and life to him. They had but one oflfspring, the editor of these pages, (I speak the name in pride). Napo- leon Warrington Crabtrie. Of my father's family I know nothing, not having cared to make research in that direction. I only know that my father died before the war, while still si, 36 A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. teacher, having failed to make either a name or fortune for himself, and leaving only tiiree thousand dollars which he managed to save from his salary, which he made my mother promise she would spend on my education. She kept lier promise to the letter, and in a manner which I shall here- after relate. But of my mother's family, tlie celebrated Warrington family of Virginia, I took pains to find out everything that was known, both as to the English branch and the one here at home. But as mucli of this has been written up before, and as it is all in the family history of the Warringtons, a copy of which I keep constantly- near me, and wiiich I will lend you any day, I do not think it necessary to enter at large into the history of my mother's family just here. Suffice it, that it was one of the oldest and proudest Ihat Virginia and England had ever known. We still have one of its members here in Madi- son Parish, Uncle George Warrington, who will figure more at large in some of my future books ; and in Virginia there are still three of the family living, i.e., Fiauk Warrington, of Salem ; Jolin Warrington, of Eoanoke City, and Keivell War- rington, of Norfolk, all as fine boys as God ever made. In my twelfth year my mother sent me to Pf tersburg, Virginia, to school ; and when I was sixteen sent me to Harvard, where my father had been educated, and where I distinguished my- self even beyond lier motherly desires and hopes. My friends and classmates told me when I left tjiat venerable seat of learn- ing that there was a brilliant future in store for me. I have even now in my trunk with my old love letters (faded and worn) a letter from one of the first professors of Harvard, stating that I had talent of the very highest order. When 1 came home my mother informed me that she had spent the very last cent upon my education, and tiiat I would now have to make my own living. And I have made it ever since by a process and after a fashion which in any one else excepting a Warrington would have been known as loafing. But I am no loafer. I am simply a gentleman of leisure, who spends all his his time in visiting his friends. I stop in at the general's, and stay until I see that he is getting tired of me ; then I pack my trunk and move on to Major Rankin's, where I remain until I discover that it is time to pass on ; and thence to the next neigiibor's. No one, excepting a Warrington, could do this and keep liis self- respect. It takes a man of parts to lead such a life, and at the same time keep liis own respect and the respect of his friends. That through twenty years of living upon others, I have neither lost my own respect nor that of my friends, shows, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 37 at least, that I am a man of parts, and that had I devoted my attention to some other calling I niight have made both name and fortune for myself. For the good living my friends have thus afforded me for tlie last twenty years, do not think that I have failed to make some return. It is, to say the least, an honor to any man in Madi- son Parish to entertain one of the Warrington family — that is one compensation. Tlie second is that I gather much news in traveling from neighbor to neighbor, and thus am able to tell my friends all (and a little more) that is happening in the parish. They welcome me when I come, because they know I can tell them more about other people's affairs than any other man in the State. Nothing ever happens within fifty miles of me but that I am sure to get hold of it, by hook or by crook. And I am never so happy as when I move into a new neighborhood, and have fresh listeners to my news. Then, again, I can tell an anecdote a little bit better than any man in tlie State of Louisiana. I know this to be the truth, for I have been told so by the governor of the State and by both the United States senators. I can take one of the old anec- dotes of the neighborhood, that has been worn threadbare for ages, add a new head and tail to it, and I can go around and tell it to its oldest friend, and he will laugh until he will well- nigh split his sides. It takes genius to do this. Then I have a way of making myself pleasant to both young and old in many ways. Tliei-e is not a house in the parish, therefore, whose owner is not glad and proud to see me come, (and alas ! must I say it ?), and who is not glad also to see me go away. And thus it is 1 have made many of my friends glad twice within the same fortnight — glad when I came and glad when I went away. The general loved my news and anecdotes ; the other neighbors loved them just as well. But it was by the little folks that I was loved the most. I had a hundred wild stories that I would tell tliera till their eyes would grow large with wonder. I would bring them bon bons and little trinkets and playthings that I picked up here and there, and their love I was always sure of winning and retaining. Into all their sports as well as joys and sorrows I could enter with my whole soul, and they at least were never made glad, (like their elders), on the days I would take my departure from their house. In fact, the reader may readily see from my confes- sions, that had I not been born of the Warrington blood, I might have been a success at almost any calling. As it was, I was too grand to be anything but a gentleman of elegant leis- ure, who made his living by living upon his friends. 38 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. Several times I have started out in business for myself, and was for a time an independent being. On the last occasion I started out as book-agent for a marvelous work, which con- tained all the knowledge the world ever knew, and which would teach you with equal indifference how lo roast a turkey or to save your soul. After canvassing three months I happened to stop in at tlie general's hospitable residence one day, where he persuaded me to spend the week ; and I found the contrast between book-canvassing and loafing so marked in favor of tlie latter employment, that 1 have devoted all my time and atten- tion to loafing ever since. And yet I am not without my use. I serve to make many peoples' lives the brighter. I will serve as iin escort to any girl who ftiils to have one ; I will take a vacant hand at whist, or an empty seat at table ; and when I see the conversation about to stop, I will tell one of my best anecdotes and set the whole company in a roar. I have been sent for ten miles many a time to visit some poor fellow with the blues, and before I left him I have done more than all the doctors in the State could do. Tiiis living upon my friends has had its advantages as well as disadvantages, and I say it again, there is not another man in the State who could have done so as long as I liave, and still keep his own respect and that of his friends. I always stopped longest where the eating was best. During the sum- mer and fall I would keep a close lookout to see who had the biggest and fattest flock of turkeys, and I would make my plans to spend most of my time at that house. And as Grandma Gray usually leads the parish in that respect, I favored the general with much of my valuable time, and often has he laughed till I tliouglit he would split his sides at one of the anecdotes I would tell him, and which I had just heard from him the week before. I could never tell whether he laughed most at the anecdote or the manner in which I had doctored it up. I was there at his house the day they had the big bronze pfobbler, and I was urging Major Rankin on to tell his war ex- perience. After dinner was over I spent all the afternoon in frolicking with Ethel and little Dan. God bless them both. But, by and by, the good general would begin to tire of my .nnecdotes and my gossip ; and at such times he would take me out to his cabbage patch and ask me if I did not think they needed hoeing, when I would suddenly discover that I had promised to visit a neighbor down the road. Ah me ! I have had my joys as well as sorrows in this world. I never was quite brave enough to take a JDartner to travel around with me. I had a sweetheart once. We loved A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 39 ; each other with all the fire and force that lovers in novels always do. My very blood runs wild when I think of it. We had sworn to live and die faithful to each other. The wedding- day was set. Then it was I began to reflect. What would the consequences be ? Alas ! alas ! I loved her far too much to make her a partner in my lot. There were two friends of ours, having large families of children, living not far off; one poor man had twelve in all. I took iier one day and showed her all these children, and asked her to reflect. " Mariah," (Mariah was my sweetheart's name), " Mariah, before we marry, just look at all these children, and think that it may be your lot to have as many. Then imagine yourself going from house to house, with all those children following after you ! " It was enough. She fainted at the mere idea of it ; and after that neither of us ever mentioned anything about a wedding- day. And I have this consolation left me, 1 dealt honestly with her, and never brought her to sliare in my lot. After- wards she married a thrifty man by the name of Smith, and now boasts as many as eight offspring. I stood god-father to her second boy, whom she named Warrington after me, and on each of his birthdays I have never yet failed to give him a quarter of a dollar and my blessing. With the quarter he would always buy stick candy ; but as to the blessing, I have yet failed to find out what good it did him. I go around to see her and her eight little ones once in a while, and tliere is one thing that I thank God for every time I go to church, and that is that Smith got Mariah and not I. Just imagine how I would look driving up to the general's house, with the inten- tion of spending three weeks, and those eight brats strung out behind me ! Not all the blood of all the Warringtons would make such a thing look otherwise than ludicrous. Yes, Mariah, I acted square by you, and I thank God you got a better man ! * I need say no more — the reader knows me. The chances are that I have stopped at his own house within the year. There is nothing bad about me ; even my anecdotes are of the better class. That all the children love me is a sure Sign that there is some good in me. In plain truth, had I not belonged to the Warrington family of Virginia, I might have gone to Vrork and been a prosperous man. 40 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER VI. Miss Fanny Rankin, at whose hospitable residence I spent a few weeks not long since, informed me that I could never hope to become popular with the young ladies until I began putting more solitary horsemen, more marrying, more love- making and more duelling in my novels. Miss Fanny, who has passed no less than thirty golden summers, has doubtless liad a love-affair or two of her own ; has, perhaps, seen a solitary horseman or two come riding down tlie big road into her own father's mule-lot, where they hitched their steeds for tlie time ; but, alas ! they had ridden away without taking Miss Fanny with them. Yet slie still loved to read of lovers' talk, and marrying, and solitary horsemen, even if these things had refused to materialize in her own life within the last few years. Miss Fanny has the sweetest blue eyes imaginable, and the neatest little hands, and clasping those little white hands together and turning those blue eyes up toward heaven she exclaimed : " Now, Mr. Crabtrie, won't you promise me that in the very next novel you write you will get a solitary horseman, a real splendid fellow, with black moustache, and glorious eyes? And oh, Mr. Crabtrie, won't you put him in some dismal forest — you know we have so many dismal forests here in Madison Parish — and won't you liave it in the spring of the year, and all the birds singing, and all the flowers blooming, and tlie sun shining gloriously overhead ? And then, please have all the young folks making love all the time and saying nice sweet things to each other. Then won't you give us at least three characters whq speak nothing but Creole all the lime ? And above all things, Mr. Crabtrie, won't you give us a duel, a real genuine, ^rst-class duel, a duel for love ? Have the lover on one side and the rascal on the other. And won't you have it come oiF at the border of the forest just as the sun is going down?" She looked divinely as she was saying this, and my heart melted toward her. " Miss Fanny," said I, "I have been a friend of your father and of his family a long time, and I would like to do anything that would please you ; but so far as the duel and the three characters who speak Creole are concerned, let me say at once A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 41 that I cannot grant your request ; for I cannot see how a man of sense can write about such tilings, and ever after regain his self-respect. As to the love-making, I hope, in my very next novel, to give you one or two very good samples of that;_,but as to keeping all my characters at that business from the begin- ning t-o the end, it is too great a punishment for any crime. And lastly, as to the solitary horseman, let me say that for the sake of the love I bear your family, I shall give you one in the very next book 1 write ; and I shall have him come forth in the best style — but remember, I shall have but one. A man must draw the line somewhere, even in this age ; and I draw it at solitary horsemen, over-much love-making, duels and black- moustached young men who insist on talking Creole." "Oh 1 oh ! oh ! " screamed Miss Fanny ; and running up to her father, who at that moment entered the room, she ex- claimed : " Do you hear. Papa ? Mr. Crabtrie is going to give us a solitary hoi-seman and lots of love-making in theHMt w next book he writes. Oh, won't that be gi-and ! I always knew, sir," said she, turning to me, " that if you would stop writing about the every-day things of life, its trials and disap- pointments, and devote your time to love-making and song- birds and duelling and all those nice things, you VFOuld soon be placed among the immortals. Yes, Mr. Crabtrie, if you only wanted to write about such things, there is no one who could make them sound more sweetly than you. But instead 'yeU are always poking' fun at us poor women folks, and saying mean things and writing of the hardships of life. But you are going to give us one solitary horseman, and you ai-e going to jiave him in a dismal forest, and all those nice things!- Now ain't you, Mr. Crabtrie ? " Her beseeching blue eyes were almost more than I could bear, and taking those two lily-white hands in mine, I said : " Yes, Miss Fanny, I shall do as you wish. In my very next novel the solitaiy horseman shall come prancing forth." So here he is. It was a bright spring morning toward the latter end of May. Overhead the great "king of day was shining in resplendent glory, and his rays where lighting the whole world with gor- geous light. The birds were jumping from bough to bough and singing in sweetest melody the songs of spring, while on every side the wild-flowers were flaunting their gay colors to the wind, and scenting the air with their rich perfume. It was in the midst of a dark, deep wood, while as far as the eye could reach could be seen towering giants of the forest, their boughs all laden with Spanish moss. Adown the depths of this dismal 42 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. forest there wound a lonesome road, and on this glorious spring morning a solitary horseman might have been seen wending his way along. (I am getting down to business now). He rode a jet black Arabian steed, slightly lame in the left hook, which he had bought the day before at a livery stable in Vicks- burg ; and which the owner of tlie stable said was worth fully two hundred dollars, but which he said he would sell for a hundred and twenty-five owing to the lameness. The spring breezes which fanned the clieeks of the solitary horseman, toyed also with his jet black locks and cooled his noble brow. He was in tlie springtime of life. Fair visions of tiie coming time were flitting through his mind, and painting the future in the most gorgeous hues. He had a royal black moustache, a real grand and glorious, a superb moustache, (over which the girls in Madison raved no little in after days), and his hair was black and curly. His eyes were dark brown and betokened much feeling, but especially a great depth of humor. The road he was riding upon was the one 'leading from Delta up the river and thence out to Mound Station. The solitary horseman was no other tlian young Dr. Brandon, of whom you have already heard, and he was on his way to make an inspec- tion of our neighborhood with the intention of making his home there. After riding up the river to Killarney plantation, he turned at right angles, and taking his way over Cypress Bayou and through another dismal forest where the* mosquitoes bit him unmercifully, he arrived at length at Mound Station. As good luck would have it, the very first person he met there was Napoleon Warrington Crabtrie, to whom you have already been introduced. I was standing on the platform where I had waited for an hour and a half for General Lane's spring-wagon to come for me. I was just about to favor that gentleman with another three weeks' visit. Standing thus ujjon the Mound platform and wondering why the general should have been so tardy in sending for me, I espied coming out of Cypress Bayou swamp a young man riding a black horse, but as to the other charms and adjectives I have used in connection with him, they were simjily nonsense, just to tickle Miss Fanny's ear. He rode up to the platform near me and gave the salute. "Good-morning, sir," said he, "and a most glorious morn- ing it is. Do you live near here ? " " A very fine morning it is, indeed, young man. Yes, I live near here — I live all around here. My name is N. War- rington Crabtrie. I suppose you have heard of me ? " A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 43 In a moment he had sprung from his horse and had my hand in his, squeezing it as if I had been his oldest Iriend. " N. Warrington Crabtrie," said lie, giving it that full, rich, round pronunciation I have always loved to hear. "Indeed, sir, I have heard often of you, and I esteem it my greatest piece of good fortune that you should be the very first person I met. You belong to the great Warrington family of Vir-ginia, I believe. A fine old family, indeed. My name is John Bran- don — Dr. John Brandon. I am the young man who expects to locate here at the Mounds. Won't you go over and have a drink?" Tlie latter remark was rather a sudden break in the conver- sation, but one which did not altogether displease me. To please my temperance friends, and the ladies in general, I would like to be able to say that I refused the kind offer, and gave the young man some good temperance talk. But I did no such thing. I had never yet refused to take a drink when another fellow would ofifer to pay for it ; still, I had never be- come so intoxicated as not to know what I was doing, and not to be able to act the perfect gentleman on all occasions. So when John Brandon mentioned drinks, I told him there was a store just over the way where they kept the very best of whiskey, and thither we immediately took our way. And in going thence I took occasion to welcome him to our parish, and to express a wish that he might be pleased with our sec- tion and settle permanently here. He thanked me ; and hav- ing arrived about this time at the bar, he asked me what I would have. We both took " wliiskey straight," and as lie raised his glass to his lips, I said: " To the health of the young doctor who is coming to live amongst us. May his stay be a long and prosperous one ! " He thanked me again for my kindness, and then we both took a seat in the store and John Brandon opened a conversation with me. " Now tell me," he said, in a business tone of voice, " some- thing about your neighbors and friends. I shall take occasion soon to go around and pay my respects to them and get ac- quainted with them, but before I do so I should like to know something about tiiem. I should like to know their hobbies, so I may talk with them about them ; also their dislikes, so I may avoid entering upon them." " My young friend," said I, for after having drunk with him, I felt that I might consider him as sucli. "My young friend, you are very wise about this tiling, and there is no man in Madison Parish who could give you fuller or better informa- tion on this subject than I. First then, there is General Lane. 44 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS, It will be greatly to your interest to gain his friendship, as lie will be able to aid you more than anyone else. He is a large cotton planter, who has no particular iiobbies save his planta- tion and his little girl. Be careful liow you try to win his esteem by flattery or praise. You cannot do it in tliat way. Be open, candid and truthful with him, and he will be your man. He is pretty well read, and can converse on almost all subjects. He likes politics, but is liberal in his views, and you will gain nothing by abusing his opponents." " Are there no other inmates of the general's house ? Has he a wife and children ? " " Yes, he has a daughter, but she is a mei'e child ; still, it would be well not to try to patronize her. His wife died years ago. There is an old lady living with him, wliom every one calls Grandma Gray; a kind old soul, who has taken charge of the general's domestic affairs lor thirty years, and who doc- tors the poor of the neighborhood." " And how about the old lady ? what are her hobbies ? " " Her hobbies are turkeys and calomel. If you are long around her she will dose you impartially with both. They are the main points of her creed." " I'll take as much turkey as she will give me, but I beg to be excused from the calomel. What do you say, let's have another drink ? " I was in no way averse to his proposal, so the drinks were poured out ; and as we clashed our glasses together, the young doctor raised his high in the air, and with much spirit and gusto drank to "The Noble Family of Warrington of Virginia ! " He did it in such fine style that my heart melted toward him and tears came in my eyes. He had found my weak spot, some one in Vicksburg had told him of it, and now he was play- ing his hand in the very best manner. I saw what he was up to, still it pleased me more than I can tell. ''So tlie old lady believes in giving big doses of calomel, does she? Well, I am glad that I am not one of her patients. It is vile stuff." "I am with you there. Doctor; but it is her one great hobby, and you must not cross her, or she will be your enemy for life. Pacify her if you can. I was her victim once. I was taken sick at the general's house, was groaning and carry- ing on at a lively rate, and she had tlie kindness to offer to dose me. She brought the calomel in and put it in a little slip of paper near me, and made me promise to take it all. When she left the room I took but one-tliird of it, throwing tlie other two-thirds in the fire. But what I took was enough. It made A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 45 me sick for three days — deathly sick. In fact, I have not been right well since. I dread to think what would liave been the consequences had I taken the whole dose. But come, Doctor, the morning is a fine one. Let's have another drink ! " He was willing, and so was I. As we clashed our glasses together, he drank " The good people of Madison Parish, may they be prosperous for many a long day ! " We did not resume our seats. We remained leaning up against the bar I had the drinks charged, for I was short of small change at the time, and then we resumed our conversa- tion. " And now tell me something about Major Rankin. What are his hobbies?" " He is very proud of his achievements in the late war, and you cannot please him better than by asking liini to relate them to you. Hint to him you have heard of a wonderful capture he made where the odds were greatly against him. Between you and me. Doctor, he never made such a capture, but lie thinks he did, and he likes to talk about it. Then he is proud -of his three daughters, and he will be pleased to tell you of all their fine points. They are nice girls, a little romantic, indeed, but sound at heart." " Yes, yes," replied the young physician, his eyes sparkling with light, " I am fond of nice girls. When they are nice they are nice all over. What say you, Mr. Crab., let's have another drink?" We were getting very happy indeed. I took no exception to the fact that he had left off the latter half of my name. We both poured our glasses half-full, and drank to all the nice girls in the world, especially to tliose living in Madison. We were still leaning up against the bar. Our hearts became wonder- fully warmed toward each other, and our heads a little muddled. The air, the heavens, witich we could see through the open door, became strangely bright. There was joy everywhere. " Crab., old boy," said the young doctor, putting his arms around me. " Crab., old boy, I love you more than my own brothel". It seems like I had known you always. Let's drink again to the girls. Oh, how I love them ! I love them all, old Crab., from the very youngest to the veiy oldest ; and to me they are all young and nice and pretty, and to save my soul I can't keep from telling every one I meet that I love her. It is gospel truth, old boy. Crab., old boy, let's drink again to the health of the girls ! " And we drank. In about twenty minutes we had taken no less than five good drinks, for four of which the doctor paid, 46 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. the fifth being charged to my account, and as a natural cons*, quence we were getting pretty full. But the doctor was not too happy to have an eye to busi- ness, so he said : " Tell me something of the other neighbors. You Iiave told me tlius far of only General Lane and Major Eankin. What of the rest ? " " All right," said I, "but before we start let's hare another drink." Number six went down, was charged to my account, and then we both found it necessary to take our seats. " Well, then," I commenced, " tliere is Mrs. Brewster, the nicest little lady in all the world. She has had lots of trouble in her day, has lost her husband and nine or ten little ones, but she stands up under it all wonderfully. Doctor, wonder- fully ! You will be sure to love her. We all love lier, she is so sweet and lovely, in spite of all her sorrows. Then she has the cleanest little liome in the parish. You must be sure to get all the dust and mud off your feet every time you go to see her. Her hobbies are flowers and her little girl. You must pat the little one on the head and remark how blue her eyes are and how rosy her cheeks. And then she will want to tell you all about her flowers. She will tell you of her Giant of Battles and La France roses, and of lier Asa Gray geranium which bloomed for the first time last week, and set the little lady wild with delight. And by and by. Doc, if she likes you, she will bring out the pictures of her little dead children, and she will tell you about Arthur and Charley and Lizzie and little John, and how good they were, and that now they are with God, and how some day she hopes to go to them, and she will close by asking you if you don't think she will know them all when she gets to the better country. Ah, my boy, tears will come into your eyes then ! I am very far from a saint myself, but do you know that every time the sweet little lady gets out those pictures and commences telling me about her little ones, my eyes fill with tears ? " And after this fashion I told him about our neighbors, giv- ing him an account of their hobbies and peculiarities, and after each description either he or I woiild propose a drink. So it is evident to all reasoning minds that before many hours were over, we became pretty full and pretty happy too. It was in this fix we stood at the bar about two hours after I had made the youug doctor's acquaintance. I had known him only that short time, yet we had become so intimate that we had embraced each other and sworn to love each other through life, I had told him ray whole history, confiding to A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 47 him things that I had never told Mariah, even when I loved her most ; and in liis turn, he had treated me as if he had known me twenty years. Soon we began singing "John Brown's Body" and " Swanee Kiver," much out of tune 1 must admit, for neither of us were good singers. Tlien I begnn to cut a " pigeon-wing " on the floor, and he started upon a jig with many variations. The outside world was a matter of but little concern to either of us. We were entirely wrappcil up in ourselves. For twenty years I had not been quite so happy. I was in tlie wildest dashes of my " pigeon-wing'' and singing " John Brown's body lies mouldering in the ground," at tlie top of my voice, when I suddenly became aware that the store door was crowded with spectators, and there, standing in the midst of them, (Oh, heavens !), I recognized the familiar face of General Lane. I put on the best face possible under the circumstances, and marched up to meet him. It was he who spoke first. " Crabtrie, my man, what in the world is the matter witli you ? For ten minutes all Mound Station has been looking at your antics. I have known you thirty years now, but I never knew you to act in this way before. 1 had some little business here, and as the spring-wagon was coming down after you, I thought I would come also. I have finished my business. Are you ready to go home ? " " Wait one minute," said I. "I have just met an old Har- vard man, and we were dancing and singing in honor of alma mater and the grand old times. It is Dr. Brandon, our new doctor. Wait until I can go and fetch him, and he will accom- pany us home." I rushed down to the farther end of the store where the young doctor had become quite sober by this time, and said : "It is General Lane. Come forward and be introduced to him." We marched up to the front end of the store, and I intro- duced the two in my very best manner. " So you are a Harvard man. Doctor ? " said the general. "I am always proud to meet men from that institution, although I was educated at the University of Virginia my- self," I winked at the doctor, but he.did not see me. What I had told the general of his being a Harvard man was all of my own make-up. " You are mistaken, sir," replied the doctor, to my horror. " I never had the pleasure of attending that school. A few years at a high-school was all the academic education I had. 48 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. while I received my professional training at Louisville, Ken- tucky." Tlie general brought his long eyebrows down on me in a fashion he alone could accomplish, and he said : " Crabtiie, I would like to see you a moment in private." And when we Jiad marched down the counter he began : " Sir, 1 have known you ever since you were a little boy in knee-pants, and I knew your mother before you ; and it is for her sake I still have a degree of interest in you, for a nicer, sweeter lady I never knew. But let me say right here, sir, that if you have any more lies to tell, you had better tell them to some one else, for I will not stand it. And if you hope to visit my house you must not let this occur again. I never knew you to act thus before. I knew you were lazy, but I thought you always told the truth and kept reasonably sober. But here you have commenced lying and getting drunk, all on the same day." The general had a habit of calling things by their right name. I was up in wrath in a minute. " Lying and getting drunk ?, who dares accuse me of it? It is only your gray hairs, sir, and your age that saves you. How dare any man accuse a member of the Warrington family of lying and drunkenness ? The air was fresh, the morning was bright, and I thought I would dance and sing a little. It is a glorious thing to be ab\i to keep a joyous heart in one, and to be able to dance and sing in spite of the sorrows of life. And then, as to the doctor being a Harvard man — why, it was his misfortune, not mine, that he failed to be educated at that noble seat of learning. All fine men should be Harvard men. But, you sir, dare to call me a liar and a drunkard again', and not even your gray hairs will save you from my wrath ! " I was not over the effects of the whiskey, yet, and I was making a fool of myself. A peculiar, sweet smile passed over the old man's face, and putting his arm around me, he said : " Old boy, we have known each other too long to afford to quarrel with each other now. Come, you and the doctor get ready and go home with me, and never let this thing occur again." And then I thought of how good grandma's turkeys tasted, and of how finely she always roasted them, and I decided it would never do to fall out with the old general. So he, the new doctor and I were soon upon our way to the old gentle- man's home. A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 49 CHAPTER VII. When John Brandon first came to Madison he rejuvenated much of the parish. The disasters had come so thick and fast upon us — disasters of flood and fire and war — that most of our people had lost courage, and had no longer any heart for merri- ment or joy. As on that bright spring morning the young doctor had set the editor of these pages to dancing and singing, so he had a like rejuvenating effect upon the rest of our inhabitants. I pray you, do not go so far as to think that he got them all drunk and set them to dancing and singing " John Brown's Body," — mine was an extreme case. Yet he caused our people to take new heart and courage, and showed them that life was joyous and worth living after all. He carried around with him a " magic flute," hidden away in his nature, and he had but to pipe a tune, and all liis hearers began to dance. There was no resisting him. He was charming alike to rich and poor, to young and old, to male and female. He took the parish by storm, and in tliree weeks had captured the liearts of all of us. I cannot say how he did it — no one knew exactly how he managed it — but in less tlian a month's time he had conquered, and the thing was done. Yet John Brandon was very far from being a saint. In him there was the strangest mixture of good and evil, as there is in most of us ; and in describing him, (as he is to be our hero), I shall not make him out all perfect, but give him in his good- ness and in his meanness just as he lived and died amongst us. And in drawing his character, I meet with no small difficulty ; for John Brandon was nothing more than a noble bundle of contradictions, eccentricities and oddities ; and underlying it all he had a cheerful, joyous, happy disposition that refreshed all who came in contact with him, and made his friends love him and stick to him through thick and thin. In John Bran- don you will find none of that milk and water goodness and per- fection which characterize the hero in so many fashionable novels, but in him you will find what is far truer and better — life, as human beings live it. If you find him not quite good enough to suit you, fair madame, just please to remember that God made him, (the devil giving the finishing touclies, no doubt), and not I, and that I am not responsible for him. I have enough gins of my own to answer for. 4 50 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. I believe I made some mention several pages back of a glorious black moustache that grew upon his lip, and which was the source of much rapture, in after years, to the young ladies of the parish. To tell the simple truth about it, at this time it was scarcely more than a quarter of an inch long, and one side of it was much heavier and darker than the other. His moustache, ladies, was not our doctor's strongest point. But underneath that moustache was always lurking the richest, cynical, raephistophelian smile. Sometimes it would almost pass away (seldom quite altogether, for even in his sleep a vestige of it would remain), and when he was on the point of teasing any one, the smile would deepen and he would break forth into a little, cackling laugh. I said that his smile was mephistopheliaii : I used the word not because it was a big one, but because it is becoming popular with tlie reviews at present, and is more polite than its synonym. Had I said the smile was a devilish one, I had struck nearer the mark ; but, madame, I might have shocked your feelings, and by sad ex- perience I have learned better than to do that. And yet John Brandon was far from being a devil himself. His redeeming traits were cheei-fulness and generosity — the noblest of all liuman virtues. As to his vices — well, he had all of them. His personal appearance is soon given. He was about five feet ten inches ; rather slim ; his hair and moustache jet black ; his eyes dark brown ; his forehead broad and high ; his cliin com- ing to a point ; his lips thin and expressing determination, and always covered by the smile of which we have spoken. He was one of the worst teasers ever met with. At a din- ner or party you would see the smile deepen and broaden, you would hear him break out in his little cackling laugh, and then you would know the fun was about to begin, and some poor boy's cheeks would blush rosy red before the doctor was through with him. And yet he would stand teasing in return — in fact, related all his own follies — and laughed at liimself more than at any one else. Was he good or bad ? When I say he was good, I remember a hundred wild scrapes in which he wa engaged ; and when I accuse him of being bad, the remenr. brance of five hundred noble and generous deeds rush in upon me, and give denial to my charge. He was neither bad nor good — he was simply human. He has gone, now, these many years ; gone over to the boys in the majority. May peace rest with his bones ! It was not long before we had arrived at the general's house, where we found a good dinner awaiting us, prepared under grandma's especial care ; for the old lady had a liking for me, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 51 and gave me good eating whenever 1 sojourned at licr liouse. All of us, the doctor, the old man and I, had a good ajjpetite, from riding in the open air, and we did full justice to the re- past. The young doctor began at once to win the old lady's regard. I saw that he was playing liis cards in tiie very bi'st manner, and that he needed no prompting from me. Witli tliu general, he was simply candid, open and truthful, but with the old lady he used all those fine compliments and flatteries whicii were so well calculated to win her heart. He spoke in high terms of her quince jelly — said thiit it was the best he had tasted in years. He said that the chicken was baked to perfec- tion, that he had always liked chicken baked with rice — 'twas the way his own mother prepared them at iiome. Grandma was quite cold and distant to him at first, for she was determined not to give her regard and friendship too lightly to one who did not believe in the virtues of calomel. In fact, she had made up her mind to have it out with him on this subject, and to tell him exactly what she thought of him. But she could afford to wait awhile yet. He was a stranger now, and it was best to treat him civilly for the present. She had prepared her- self for warfare with the young physician, though, and she had determined not to like him — but she could not resist him. After dinner was over we went out to the front gallery, and there in the front yard was grandma's flock of turkeys, young and old. They were a grand sight to see ! The young doctor remarked them at once ; in fact, would talk of nothing else. The old ones were the largest, brightest colored fellows he had ever seen ; the young ones were so sprightly and healthy, he had never seen anything like them. What did she feed them on ? Wheat-bran, oatmeal and red pepper. Why, he would write to his mother about it in his very next letter. His mother never could raise turkeys, they would all die before they were three weeks old. He was sure it was because she did not feed them on wheat-bran, cornmeal and i"ed pepper. And then the old lady told him to tell her to keep tiiem up at night in boxes, and not to turn them out in the morning till the dew was off the grass. He swore he would do it that very night. John Brandon did not write home for two weeks, and when he did, turkeys were the very last thing he thought of mentioning. And yet he talked on after this fashion with the old lady, praising all her little affairs until he quite won her heart. She too, like myself, knew what he was up to, but in spite of herself she could not help liking him for it. It is so much better to say nice things, thought she, even if one does not exactly be- lieye wljfit be says. 'JTljere ^re enough mean things said in this 52 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. world. I could see that the doctor was making rapid headway in winning grandma's regard. It was easy to tell when she liked any one, and I could see that in spite of her determina- tion not to be pleased with young Brandon, she liked him very much indeed. Late that evening, as we were sitting comfortably out on the front gallery, he and grandma were at the far end talking to each other. I could barely hear them where I was sitting talk- ing to the general. I heard Brandon telling the old woman that he was far away from home now, far away from his own dear mother and the restraining influences of the dear old home ; and that he wanted grandma to be a mother to him, to be his Louisiana motiier and to shield him from all harm. The thing touched her heart — melted it, in fact — and won her com- pletely over. I could hear a tremor in her voice when she answered him. God bless him ! the motherless boy, indeed she would. " The grand old rascal," said I to myself, " the last thing he wishes for now is a mother. But he needs one very badly to keep him straight." That night, when the doctor had retired,' I went up to Grandma Gray and said : " Wiiat do you think of our new doctor? will he do?" " I like liim," replied she, without hesitancy. "I like him. He's as nice and civil a young man as ever 1 seed in my life. I like him, and feel toward him as if he was my own child." " Did you say anything to him about calomel ? I under- stand that you intend to interview him on that subject." " No, I did not say anything to him. I thought it best not to begin too soon. He's here all by himself, and away from his mother, and no one to care for liim, and I could not have the heart to abuse him yet awhile. But I'll have it out with him yet, that I will!" " Grandma," said I, getting up and starting into the hall, preparatory to lighting my candle and going to bed, " Grandma, do you know that that young man is twenty-three years old, tliat he's been away from liis mother for five years, and that when a man gets to be twenty -three years old it is high time that he was learning to take care of himself? " "It mout be so," replied the old lady, "but still, he's asked me to be a mother to him, and by God's grace, I will do it. I will mend his clothes for him, and nurse him when he gets •ick." And the old lady meant every word she said. "VVbw I went to mjr bedroom, the game in which Bran- A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. liS don slept, I found that young man still awake, and I had a little talk with him. " Well, Doc., old boy", you have played your hand nicely to- day. The general is pleased with you. I have not heard liim say so, but I know it from the way he acts. You have won the old lady entirely over. What's that about her being a mother to you ? Had I not better send down and have the crib sent up to you, and a bottle of soothing syrup ordered ? So the old lady has adopted you out and out ? She says she is going to mend your clothes, and nurse you when you get sick." The young man broke forth in a merry laugh. " So 1 won her, did I, Crab. ? She'll make a good friend after all, and it is much better to have iier friendship than her enmity. No doubt I shall stand sadly in need of her motherly care." Next morning Dr. Brandon was up betimes. He got up whistling. The sunlight I noticed had just begun to pour into the room. Then I rolled over and went to sleep again. In the general's house, with the exception of grandma and the manager, they were all late risers. The general had a good manager, who kept things moving on the plantation, and the old gentleman held that it was best in this unhealthy country not to get up until the dew was all off the grass and the miasma gone. I never opposed him in his views. When I got up and went down-stair-s, it was half-past eight, and there out in the front yard was Miss Ethel and Dr. Bran- don. They were both standing by Miss Ethel's pony and talking to each other. I went out to them and it was Ethel who addressed me first. " Good-morning, Cousin Crab.," — she always called me cousin ; in fact, I was related to her mother in a distant way — "Good-morning, you lazy old thing !" cried she, running up and kissing me. " Here Dr. Brandon and I have been up for two hours, and he's examined Daisy, my pony, and he has found out that it was not the sweeney that was troubling her and making her lame, but a nail in her hoof, and he's cleaneil out the dirt from the hoof, and pulled the nail out, and says she will get well right off now. Wasn't it good of him. Cousin Crab. ? " " Yes, Ethel, indeed it was. So, Doc, you have had your first call? What's your charge, young man ? " " Nothing whatsover," said he, with his merry laugh, "un- less it be Miss Ethel's good-will, and I am sure she would give that to me any way." And the breakfast-bell ringing about this time, we all went in to breakfast. He had won the little 54 A PEINCK OP GOOD FELLOWS, miss over too. That day there was but one verdict as to our new doctor : " He's splendid ! He will do." When breakfast was over, and the doctor, the general and 1 were smoking our morning cigars, the old gentleman entered upon the doctor's prospects in settling in our midst. " Well, doctor," said he, " you might as well make my house your home for a week or two, so you may have a chance to visit all the neighbors and see what you think of our neigli- borliood ; and if you decide to settle here, you can put you up a little office at the Mounds. I shall do all I can to help you along, and I doubt not the other neighbors will do the sanie ; but it would be well for you to visit them, and converse with tiiem yourself as soon as possible in regard to the matter." " From what I have seen of your community," replied Bran- don, " I rather like it. I thank you much for your offer of assistance and your good-will. I think it more than probable that I shall settle here." " As to your visiting the neighbors," continued the general. " Crabtrie here has nothing particular to do ; and as he is on good terms with them all, he'll take you around and introduce you. Down in that direction," pointing toward Delta, " there is only one plantation that will need your services. That is John Selden's. I don't like the man myself, but it would be well for you to be on good terms with him, for he can do much to assist you in getting a start. The plantations below him send to Delta for their physician, as that town is nearer to them than the Mounds, so you will gain nothing by going fur- ther on. You and Crabtrie had better ride down and eat din- ner with Selden to-day — he likes to have people eat with him — and come back here and spend the night; and then in tlie morning you can go out on Walnut Bayou, where it will take you several days to see all the neighbors." So this plan was settled on. I was to take the young doc- tor around and introduce him to the neighbors, the general lending me one of his riding horses to serve me upon the occa- sion. It was a duty that greatly pleased me, and I congratu- late myself that I fulfilled it in the very best manner. So in about an hour's time the doctor and I were on our way to John Selden's store. As we went jogging along in the golden sunshine of the bright spring morning, the doctor and I were chatting con- stantly of one thing or another. We had become quite inti- mate now, and talked and joked with each other as if we had been life-long friends. I liked the man. I had been longing A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 55 all my life to fipd such a one, and now I was rejoiced that at length I had found him. " How about this man John Selden that we are going to see? You did not tell me anything about him when you were tell- ing me of the other neighbors. The general says he does not like him. What's the matter ? " " I did not tell you of the man, because I did not like him myself; and as I had no good to tell you of him, I preferred to say nothing about him. He's been inducing the general's tenants off in the middle of their crop, and he's infuriated the old gentleman greatly. He swears he'll cowhide him yet if he continues the thing, and I more than half believe he will." " Where did Selden come from, and how long has he been living in this neighborhood? " " He came from no-body -knows-where, and has been living here about ten years. He was very poor when he came, but he's left no stone unturned to make a dollar, and thinks and talks of nothing but money-making all the time. He'll tell you all about how much he's made since he's been here. He's a self-made man. It's a pity God had not more to do in his making ! " "We will excuse your theological jokes. Crab., my man, but is Seldon so very bad after all ? Does he beat his wife ? " " No, I never heard him accused of that. Poor thing, she's been dead seven years now. I believe he was kind to her. Then he's got the sweetest little boy God ever made, his little Dan. He's good to him, too. John Selden does not drink ; he does not swear ; he has no vices which do not pay him in dollars and in cents ; yet he is one of the most unlovable char- acters I ever met. Nobody likes him. He has made himself a money-making machine, and has made every thing subservi- ent to this. He talks and thinks of nothing save money-mak- ing." " It's a nice thing to make money when one does not put all his life and soul in it, and when one puts his money to good uses in the end. So the old man is a money-making machine ? has lost his soul, has he ? " " He has never had one to lose. He has imposed on all his neighbors. He's swindled his darkies out of their earnings, and broken them up when it did not go against his interest. He has even gone so far as to do good deeds when it paid him to do it. And he has his house full of preachers, and is always praying and talking of the glory of God. "He does not deny his Lord; like Judas, he simply sells Him." " Now, Crab., old man, did I not tell you 1 liked your the- 56 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. ology least of all your accomplishments? Just tell me the facts about tlie man, and leave off your moralizing. Do you ever stop there ? Isn't the eating good ? " Tliat annoying, cackling laugh of the doctor's was breaking out every now and then, and it was this that caused me to know that he was making fun of me. " Good? yes, but not so good as grandma's and Major Ran- kin's. I manage to spend a week or two with Selden during the year. He's proud to have me. But it is not on his ac- count I go there. He's got a little black-eyed boy who is a great favorite of mine. You heard me speak of the little fel- low a while ago. His name is Dan. I have always loved children. I caught the trait from Uncle George Warrington, at whose house I was brought up. And Dan is my favorite of them all, I slop there whenever I pass, to tell him stories or to bring him a toy. Doctor, wlien I think of how much I love that little boy, and then remember that he belongs to old John Selden to make and mould him just as he wills, the thing almost kills me ! " For once the young doctor did not laugh at me — even the cynical smile passed from his lips. He looked out over the great river along whose banks we were riding, looked far out until his eyes rested, at length, upon the spires of Vicksburg, on the opposite shore. " It is strange how love sometimes hurts us. Crab., my man ! I've been hurt myself in my day. I don't care much for chil- dren ; with me it's the girls. I just can't help loving them all ! " said he, the smile coming back to his lips. " I love the old ones and the young ones and the middle aged ones and the fat ones and the lean ones — I love 'em all, and it's been the sin of my life that I can't keep from telling every one I meet that I love her. Ah ! love is a strange thing, my man, but the best way is not to let it strike too deep. Laugh it off. Crab., my man, that's the way to do." And here he was laughing at me again, laughing equally at himself. Was nothing holy to the man? We arrived in due time at Selden's store, and found that gentleman behind the counter selling goods. I introduced the doctor, and he shook hands with us both. I told him that Brandon was the young doctor who would probably settle in our midst, and that we had ridden down so that the young man might pay his respects, and that we would dine with him. Then leaving the two in conversation, I went to the front door, looked out over the great river, and enjoyed the pleasant breeze that came over its waters. Suddenly I saw a little fig- A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 57 ure come running down the road. It was Dan. H^ had espied me as I passed the house, and now came running full speed to greet me. " Mr. Crabtrie, I am so glad to see you ! " said he, throw- ing his arms around my neck and kissing me. " It's been ever so long since you have been to see us 1 Where have you been all the time?" I told him, and after talking on in this simple way for a few minutes, he asked me what I had brought hira this time. It was simply a little boat that I had whittled out with my pen- knife the evening before, especially for the little boy ; but it pleased him as much as if it had been a precious jewel, and he was for going at once down to the river to try it in the water, and nothing would do but that I must go along with him. So we went down the river bank, where the water was shallow, and there he played with bis little boat until he became tired of that sport ; then he came running up to me, where I was sitting on the bank, and said : " Now, Mr. Crabtrie, tell me some stories, some real nice stories." He had long since passed that age when Mother Goose's stories would amuse him ; nothing less than Indians, bears, panthers, alligators, or catamounts would now afford him pleas- ure. It had happened that a catamount had killed a man near Mounds just after the war, and I had improved the story and made the catamount a panther — yea, two or three of them — and I liad increased the one victim into half a dozen, and added other embellishments — an Indian or two — such as please the juvenile heart. I had already told it to him a hundred times, but the more he heard it the better he liked it ; so this morning, the first thing he called for was this " Panther Story." I told it to him in my very best way, in a blood-curdling dime- novel way, till his breath came fast, his hair stood on end, and his great black eyes became larger than ever. He believed it all, and when I was through with it, I told him another and another and another, until at length John Selden's hired man came down the bank and told us dinner had been ready for some time, and that they had been hunting for us every where. Little Dan tlirew his arras around my neck before he would let me get up. " I love you, Mr. Crabtrie, I love you so much ! And I love your stories. Won't you come soon and spend a long time with us ? " I promised that I would try to do so soon, and then we went up the river bank and to the house, where we found dinner 58 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. ready and waiting for us. During the course of that meal we talked of neighborhood affairs and of the doctor's prospects. After dinner was over Dan asked me to go out to the barn with him, as he had something he wanted to show me. And what do you suppose it was ? It was no less a personage than old " Fightin' Jack," sheared up in the latest style, with a blue ribbon in his tail and his stall illuminated with colored prints. I looked at the spectacle a moment, when the boy broke out in deliglit : " Papa's done give him to me, give him to me for good and to keep ; and he says he needn't work any more, and that I might have liim to ride around on all the time. All the dark- ies say he's awful old and no account for nothing. It ain't so, is it, Mr. Crabtrie ? " I had a way of telling how old mules were up to a given age, so I opened old Jack's jaws, with much trepidation, and examined his teeth. Alas ! he had so far passed my period of reckoning that I could form no judgment. He was twenty- five years old if lie was a day. But I did not have the heart to tell the little boy so. " No, Dan, he's not so old. He's young enough for you to ride many a day, yet." "And look, Mr. Crabtrie, liow fine I have fixed him up! Put pictures all around his stall, and tied a blue ribbon in his tail. And I feed him myself, night and morning." The little fellow was prouder of his old mule than many an older person is of his coach and four- Soon he got up on old Jack's back and began petting him. " See, he loves me, Mr. Crabtrie, but he'll fight every darky on the place. Just make him mad, and he'll fight like a wild- cat ; but he loves me, and he will let me do anything to bim I wisli. Ho ! old mule, there's no more hard work for you in tliis world." And the little boy leaned over and put his arms around the old mule's neck and hugged him. When we returned to the store we found John Selden and the young doctor still engaged in talking. " Come, Doctor," said I, " it is time we were on our way home. Mr. Selden, will you have the kindness to have our horses caught. So in ten minutes' time we were both on the road, returD' ing to General Lane's house. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 59 CHAPTER VIII. We had not been on the road ten minutes when I asked the doctor : " What did John Selden liave to say to you ? What did you think of the man ? " He took his cigar-case from his pocket, offered me one, lit one himself and began smoking. Then he replied : " He told me of his having come here a poor man, and how by shrewdness he had gotten to be one of the first planters in the parish. He showed me his books where he had cleared twenty thousand dollars last year, and told me that it was bis plan to clear more this. He said that he was the shrewd- est business man in this part of the State ; that he could buy goods for less and sell them for more than any man in the parish. He said further that Madison was the best place in the world for a man to make money. As to what I think of him ? Well, he is just wliat you told me he was — he is a money-mak- ing machine. He thinks of nothing else, he dreams of nothing else, he hopes for nothing else." " What did he say. Doc, about you settling here ? Did he offer you any assistance ? " " He made me this offer," replied the doctor, " and I think it a good one. He offered to collect my bills on his plantation, and be responsible for the amount, where he gives the order himself, provided I give him twenty per cent, of the amount. I told him I would make no definite agreement in regard to it till I could talk with my friends about the affair. What do you think of it. Crab. ? " " I think it will be a good thing for you. Selden has con- trol of all the cotton raised on his plantation, and can col- lect nearly every cent and will get the money for you ; while if it were left witii you to collect, you would lose fully half of it. It will be a good arrangement for both of you. The per- centage is a little too great, the other neighbors will offer to collect it for you for a less amount." And so we talked as we jogged along on our way home. When we had ridden about half a mile we came in sight of a two-roomed negro cabin, in front of which stood a white man and woman, sunning themselves before the open door. A few clothes were hanging upon a clothes-line in the yard, and about half a dozen chickens were scratching around the house. The 60 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. glass was broken out of the windows, the fences had tumbled down, there was no flower nor shrub nor shade-tree to be seen near. It was the meat desolate looking place imaginable. " Who lives there ?" asked the doctor. "What man and woman is that ? Shall we stop ? " " There is no need of our stopping here," I replied ; " you would gain nothing by it. That couple is Mr. and Mrs. Jim Longley. Tliey were grand people once. I can remember when Jim was one of tlie bloods of the parish, and had more money in a week than I had in a year; and when his wife was a young lady, she was one of the belles of Nortiiern Louisiana. They owned all the section around liere, and a plantation down in Tensas and one up in Carroll ; but after the war, Jim never had the force to go to work, but started to eating morphine to relieve him of his troubles, and after awhile he got his wife at it. They liad to sell their plantations in Carroll and Tensas for debt, and their home place here has gone for morphine. John Selden lets them have money to buy their morphine with, and takes their land at lialf its value in return. He's taken it by piecemeal, until now he's got it all but a-few acres. He'll have tliat soon, and then they will starve. Tliey will call you in, Doc, maybe, when they are dying; but it will be a small fee you will get, my man." "It's a sad story, Crab., let's talk of something else." So we changed the subject to prosperous Major Rankin and his three nice girls, a subject which greatly pleased the heart of our doctor, but which would be of little interest to the reader. That liiglit we staid again at the general's house. There was music, singing, and card-playing. None of us were very good at singing, but Ethel opened tlie old family piano, and we all joined in the simple songs of the old plantations. After awhile whist was proposed, and the doctor and I played to- gether, while the general played with a dummy. "I've tried often to teach grandma and little Ethel here, to play," said he, "but they either can't or won't learn, and I would rather play with a dummy than with them." So the women got out their sewing, and busied themselves at that while we played whist. There was not much talking going on, for the general played a skillful game, and liked to ramember all the cards that had been played. Every now and then, especially when the cards were being dealt, there were snatches of talk. The day's visit to John Selden had been canvassed, and a full account of it given. By and by, I told the incident of old Fightin' Jack and little Dan. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 61 " That old mule has quite a history," said the general. " I bought him here in the spring of 1857 from a drove that had come down from Tennessee. He was four years old then. For fighting and meanness he beat any mule I ever owned. He nearly killed my hired man here just after the war, and I sold him to a darky for fifty dollars, just to get rid of him. The darky owed John Selden an account, several years afterwards, wiiieli he could not pay, and Selden took the old mule on the ac- count. He is the very devil, as you say. He is the only tiling that ever got the better of General Grant and his army. When they were digging that celebrated canal of theirs, trying to get by Vicksburg — it runs through the lower end of my plantation there — they sent up and got all my mules to help haul earth. They got all of them save old ' Fightin' Jack.' That old mule was an out and out rebel, and did not believe in working on the Union side. Ten men tried to catch him, but he fought and bit and kicked them till they had to give it up. Grant himself heard about it, and he swore that he'd have that mulis at work or his name wasn't Grant. He sent twenty men after him, but old Jack fought so they had to give it up again. There was no doing anything with him. He is the only mule I had that remained true to the ' lost cause.' The Union men, when they saw his spirit, had the goodness not to kill him ; and when I got back here after the war, he was the only living thing left on the place. But he was of very little use : half the time he would not let you catch him, and he was always dangerous. The stoutest man can do nothing with him." " But little Dan has tamed him till he is as gentle as a lamb." " Yes," said the general, " he's done that through kindness and love. They recognize that very quickly, these mules do, and if they were all treated in that way they would not be so mean and obstinate. Ifhat little boy would win the love of anything by his goodness. I do not wonder he's subdued the old mule." And after further talk of this description we retired for the night. Standing not far back from the road which leads from Mound Station down along Walnut Bayou, was a little cottage hemmed in by tea roses and flowering shrubs. All over it and around it there clambered, in wild luxuriance, honey-suckle vines find La Marnue and Clotl) of Qo^ roses, Thev had been png 62 A PRINCK OP GOOD FELLOWS. mass of gorgeousness about the first of April, and you could not pass that way without a whiff of the sweetest perfume greeting you, and the gayest of colors would catc-h your eye. But now, at the opening of June, the profusion of bloom was over, and there was only an occasional La France or Madame Magotin rosebud to be seen. It was just such a cool, refresh- ing place that the tired traveller loved most to stop at on a liot day, to rest his bones for awhile, and to quench his tliirst. And all such might be sure of a drink of coolest water out of I lie brightest of cut-glass tumblers, and then of a pleasant hour in the shade of the honey-suckle vines. 'Twas a place I never passed without stopping an hour or so ; in fact, I found it so pleasant that I often stopped there a week at a time. It was the little home of Mrs. Brewster, to whom you have already been introduced. She kept it in a state of neatness that was wonderful to see. It was easy for all onr housewives to have things in such order before the war, when there were half a dozen house-servants always at call ; but now that servants were scarce and worthless, they had all given up their extreme de- gree of neatness save dear Mrs. Brewster. She had not re- laxed one inch. If she could not get any one else to do it, she did it herself. If a particle of dust or dirt got on the floors or carpets, it must be taken up that moment; if a spider spun liis web before the sun was up, within the precincts of that little house, the web was brushed away before the sun was an hour high. Other housewives were satisfied if the gallery were swept once a day, and if the cobwebs did not accumulate for more than a week at a time. But with Mrs. Brewster it was different. She could not abide dirt nor disorder for one min- ute in her sight. Her table-linen was spotlessly white, her silver and knives shining ; and, in fact, had you traveled through all the State of Louisiana, you would not have found another home where everything was kept so spotlessly clean. And on every hand there were flowers. She had loved them ever since she could remember, and through all her troubles they had been her one source of cheer and comfort. Other people in the parish had had fine flowers when they were able to have gardeners to attend to them, but this little lady had hers even when she had to work the ground herself. It was a [ileasant sight to stop there for a moment in passing by, and to note the beautiful order of the place, and to watch the dear little lady at work among her flowers. On the particular morning in question, the first day of June, in the year of our Lord 1878, that lady was out in her flower yard with her pruning-she^rs and garden-hoe, busily at vrork A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 63 among her pets ; and riding down the big road, not three miles off, were Dr. Brandon and I, on our way to call upon her. After eating breakfast at the genei-al s, we had started out with the intention of eating dinner with Mrs. Brewster, and then to pass on to Major Rankin's, where we would spend the night. Our conversation along the road was still concerning the people we were going to see. Brandon was informing himself in regard to them, so he miglit the more readily enter into conver- sation with them. We had been talking of Mrs. Brewster, of all the sorrows she had undergone, and how bravely she had stood up under it all. " So the little lady loves flowers, does she, Crab. ? " asked the doctor. " I am sorry it is not something else, for I am afraid I shall make poor headway in talking to her about them. I can tell a rose fi-om a sunflower, but that is about all ; and as to remembering their names, it is something I could never do. As to the little girl, I can pat her on the head, and say nice things about her — that comes naturally to me — but I am not sure about the flowers. Tell me about two or tliree of them, Crab., my man, so that I may talk to her about them." " Well, then, there is her Asa Gray geranium, which I told you about before, and which bloomed for the first time last week — it's a double salmon-pink. She will be delighted to talk with you in regard to it- Her Madame Pollock geranium is the pride of her collection — it's a colored leaved variety. Her pet roses are La France, Malmaison, Perle des Jardins, Marechal Niel, Mane Guillot, and Madame Magotin. This will be enough for you to begin on, and you can pick up more by degrees." He made me repeat them over to him again, after which I heard him saying tliem over to himself, so as to impress them on his mind. "Be sure," said I, "to brush all the dust off your shoes before you enter the house. She hates dust and dirt worse than she does the devil." And in like manner we talked till we reached the gate, and there in tlie front yard, hoeing away at her petunia bed, was Mrs. Brewster, ready to bid us welcome. I introduced the doctor to her, and she said in her pleasant way : " I am glad to welcome you, sir, to our parisli. We liave been witliout a doctor for some time, and are happy to liave one once more. I hope you will like our neigborhood And you, Mr. Crabtrie," said she, turning to me, " you have just come at the right time. My Madame Lemoine is looking sickly this morning, and I am sure it needs repotting ; and my 6# A ".INCK OF GOOD FELLOWS. James Vick has begun to drop its leaves. The/ both need fresh soil, and I have been waiting for you to come and pre- pare it for me Doctor, there is no man in the State who knows how to prepare soil for plants better than Mr. Crabtrie here. Why, the Asa Gray geranium which he potted for me in March, is full of bloom-trusses, and Mountain of Snow is doing almost as well. 'Tis the first time it has ever done any- tiling for me. I am sure it is the way he has mixed the soil. — But wait a minute, gentlemen, until I have some water brought, and then I shall show you all my flowers." And with this she rushes oiF after the water. The bed of petunias of which I have spoken, attracted the doctor's eye at once, and he asked me the name of them. They were not very fine ones, it is true, but there was something about them that pleased Brandon. I told him their right name, and when Mrs. Brewster returned he began at once to talk witli her about them. He called them "petutcias," much to the horror of my- self and Mrs. Brewster. During all the time he lived in our neighborhood this, strange to say, was his favorite flower, and he could never be induced to call it by any other name. Mi's. Brewster took us around the garden, telling us about each shrub and plant. That Magnolia Fuscata had been planted on little Arthur's ninth birthday. The little fellow had dug the hole with his spade, and helped to throw in the soil — he was gone now. And yonder Camelia Japonica — they are hardy here, Charley planted the fail before he died. It was a pure white one. It was living and flourishing finely, but poor Charley had gone too — he and little Arthur were together now, with God. And so each shrub and flower had its tender assoqiations, and as we went around amongst them, it seemed to do her good to talk about them. Each plant had its own individuality, and she looked upon them and talked about them, as if they had been human. She knew the family name and the given name of every one, and had they been her dearest friends, she could not have talked witli more interest about them. Dr. Brandon would enter the conversa- tion, every now and then, but he got tilings hopelessly mixed — insisted on talking about " petutcias" and Madame Pollock roses and Madame Magotin geraniums. The little lady would correct his mistakes in the kindest manner, but he could never get them all straight in his head. Wlien we had gone the rounds of flowers I asked her : " Where is little Mary to-day? " " She has not returned from school yet. She will be in about dinner time," replied gUe, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELL ' \'S. 65 Then Mrs. Brewster invited us into the house, oflFered us seats, and excused herself. " She has gone to see about dinner," said I to the doctor, " and if I am not greatly mistaken, it will be a good one. She's got things in beautiful order here. It looks as clean about here as I imagine they will liave them in the New Jeru- salem, when they build that town." "Here you go with your theology again. Crab." He in- sisted on calling any allusion to holy things theobgy. " You should have been a preacher and lived on fried-chicken, the thing would have suited you. But she has got things fixed up wonderfully neat and clean. It reminds me of my mother's own home when I was a little boy, and we had lots of ' ni g- gers' to do the work— but you don't see many houses like this now-a-days. So these are the pictures of her little dead cliil- dren on the mantel ? Tliey are nicely arranged iu their frames, and a set of sweet looking little ones." " Yes," said I, " they are her treasures — her crown-jewels. They are more to her than the wealth of the Vanderbilts. Many a night has she sat by tiiose pictures and cried until her eyes were dim. But iier sorrows have been changed into joy now. They are so many treasures over in the Father's man- sions. That's the way she looks upon them. If she likes you, Doc, she will show you the pictures, and tell you about each little fellow. That is a sure sign that she likes one. I never knew her to talk to any one about them, whom she did not like." After Mrs. Brewster had dinner well started, she came back into the sitting-room, and had a long talk with the doctor and me. It was all about the doctor's settling here, and his pros- pects, and would be but a repetition of what we have already heard. She told the doctor that her influence was small, but such as it was she would use it all in his favor. The little lady was easily won, and our cheerful young doctor had not the slightest trouble in winning her regard. By and by, the bell rang and we were invited out to dinner, and oh! how wonderfully bright and clean everything was. There was nothing gaudy or showy about the table, it being simply elegant and spotlessly white and bright. None of our housewives were unclean or slovenly, yet there was a degree of neatness and order about nil Mrs. Brewster's doings that the rest could not come up to. The dinner was nothing more than was usually served at our dinings in the parish.'but there were so many nice little side-dishes, and the preparation was so painty and tempting, that the doctor told Rie afterwards he 66 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. had never seen a meal preparfid with such taste. Little Mary ran in when dinner was half over, with, her cheeks red from her ride, and she had much to tell us about her school and her teacher. After dinner we sat in the shade of the honey-suckle vines, drinking the coffee which Mrs. Brewster had handed around. She told us we might smoke if we wished, but both the doc- tor and I looked upon it as holy ground, and preferred not to avail ourselves of the offer. Brandon called the little girl to his side and patted her on the head, and made her tell him all about her studies, saying that he had a sweet little sister at home just about her age, with the same blue eyes and hap[)y smile. Then Mrs. Brewster told us of how smart and good the little girl was, and how much she helped her with her household duties. And thus the afternoon passed away, and the time came for us to start to Major Rankin's. Something was said about our leaving, when Mrs. Brewster exclaimed : " Now, Mr. Crab- trie, you must not go before you repot my James Vick and Madame Lamoine. You know where I keep the leaf-mould and sand." So I went out in the yard and got some leaf-mouM, rotten chips and manure and sand. After mixing it in proper propor- tions, I took the two named individuals, and shifting them from one pot and removing much of the soil, I placed them in new pots with good drainage at the bottom. The drainage in the old pots had been bad, and thus had caused them to become unhealthy. Wliile I was at this work, I saw the doctor and Mrs. Brewster get up and go into the sitting-room. I could see them through the open door from where I was working. Mrs. Brewster was showing him the pictures of her little dead treasures, and giving him a short account of each. I had heard their histories over many a time ; in fact, I had known most of them, and played with them to the little lady's unfail- ing joy ; and now that they were dead and gone, I never tired of listening to her talk about them. When I had finished repotting the plants I did not wish to disturb the two in their talk, so I sat down on the front gallery where I could catch, every now and then, a fragment of their talk. It was about little Arthur — how much lie had suffered and how bravely he had stood it all, and of how bright his face was the day he died — but that now he was in a country where no sin nor suffering nor sorrow efVer came. And then she showed him Charley's picture, and told him of how bright he was, and loving, too ; how he would have been a great man some day, had he lived, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 67 but it had been God's -will to take him from her, and after all, Grod's will was the best. And so she told him of each little fellow, of their goodness and of their sufferings, until the doc- tor's voice had a tremor in it when he spoke, and I knew tliat the smile had passed from his lips, and that tears were in his eyes, and that he had quite melted to the little lady and the story of her sorrows. And then I heard her ask him if he did not think she would find tliem and know them and have tliem all forever when she too went home to God. I saw him take the litlle lady's hands in his, and heard him tell her that he knew it would be so — that God could not be good if it were not so. She would meet them, siie would know them ; they would be her treasures in that land, in that country where death nor suffering nor sorrow ever came. " O, I thank you, I thank you," said she, with great joy, a look of brightness beaming over her face. "It is all I ask, to see them all together once more ; to have their little arms around my neck, and .to hear their joyous prattle once again. God is good, Doctor, it must be so ! " And as they started to leave the room I heard her say to him : " Little Mary and my flowers are all that I have left now. Doctor. You must stop in and see me sometimes, it would do my heart good." And turning to me, for slie had reached the gallery by this time, she said : " And you, too, Mr. Crabtrie, you must come often to see me. James Vick looks better already fi'om the change. I want you to come and talk with me about the flowers, and help me attend to them." After assuring her that I would come soon and spend some time with her, and after bidding her and little Mary good-bye, the doctor and I were soon upon our horses, and on our road to Major Rankin's hospitable abode. We had not ridden far when I exclaimed: "Doc, don't you talk any more about my theology ! Had you been the Dean of Westminster you could not have given more orthodox comfort than you gave dear Mrs. Brewster.' " Ah, Crab., my boy," replied he, with his cheery laugli, " I just could not help it. It is true, I don't believe anything ; but if there is any goodness anywhere at the bottom of this universe, I am sure of one thing — that that dear little lady will find her lost little ones somewhere, somehow — I don't know when or where," 68 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER IX. What need is tliere for our giving a lengthy description of our night's stay at Major Rankin's ? Have you never seen, good madame, a young buck who was fond of the girls, get with a party of bright and whty young ladies of an evening ? How gay and lively he would make it for all parties con- cerned ! And have you never seen three' sprightly young ladies, when they haij not had a real lively young fellow call upon them in a month ? How witty their conversation would be; how joyous their laugh sounded, and how bright their cheeks would glow ! Ah ! good madame, doubtless you know more about it than I, who, with the exception of Mariali, never had a girl in my life. And since you know all about it, and having been in like position in your own glorious youth a hundred times or more, what need is there, then, I say, that I should devote ten pages to telling you how the girls behaved, and of all the nice things John Brandon said to them on this particular night ? I have many things to tell you, of human joy and human suffering, before the end. Why then pause here, on the very threshold of our story, to record an evening's light talk, the substance of which even the parties themselves forgot upon the morrow ? Suffice it to say, it was a glorious night for the three young ladies, who had. not had so fine a beau within the year. And as for the doctor himself, he was in his glory, and made the very best of liis opportunity. I had given him a pretty exact account of the family before we reached the house. I told him that the major was a native of Mississippi ; had come, in fact, not far from the doctor's own home ; that there were but three children. Misses Fanny, Jenny and Maud Rankin, who with the exception of a little i-omantic fancy, were as well-educated and as fine girls as could be found any where ; that they were all devout high church men and women, and that, tis they had no church of their own in the parish, they went to Vicksburg at least once a month to hear service, and in February shut up tlie house and went to New Orleans for a month. I had already related to the doctor the major's pride about his war achievements, and I knew I had that impressed upon his mind. When we got down at the gate, I said to Brandon that he might make love now to his heart's content; that the young ladies had not had a beau'l^^ A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 69 tliey came back from New Orleans in March, and that they were ready and waiting to begin. It was a grand frolic — a merry time of it, we had that night ! I had not seen the major's house brighten up so in ten years. The young ladies were all good musicians, and they had brought back with them a new piano from New Orleans. They sang all the new songs, and played all the new airs, and used all the latest slang ; and the doctor laughed, and compli- mented them on their music and about every thing else. And tlien tliey got down the poets and read poetry for an hour, and tlie doctor would read awhile, and tiien the girls would read awhile, and then they would all giggle and laugh until you would have tiiought the house was falling down. lu fact, tliey were just like a merry set of children bent upon tlieir fun. It would be useless to say that the young ladies were pleased with Brandon. I had never seen their cheeks blush so rosy red, nor their eyes sparkle so brightly before. And Brandon, too, was having his own fun. He loved bright girls with all his heart, as he had told me, and here he had the society of three as sweet and lovely ones as could be found in a long day's journey. And you may be well satisfied of this fact, madame, that he did not fail to avail himself of this good opportunity to have all the fun possible. When this liad been going on about half an liour, I heard Brandon remark to the major that he had heard of the hitter's bravery in the late war, and that he greatly admired and esteemed him for it. This was enough to start him oflf", and for two hours we had an unabridged history of the late unpleas- antness between the States. That capture — that wonderful capture of which we have already heard — was given in power- ful and graphic language ; and to those who had not already heard it a hundred times it was doubtless very impressive. I cannot say there was much enthusiasm expressed by either his wife, his daughters or myself, for we had heard it so often that it had become an old story. The doctor, however, listened with breathless interest ; and when it was over, marched up to the old warrior and gave him his hand. " I am proud," said he, with much gusto, " to shake hands with one who showed such bravery against such overpowering odds. It is an affair, sir, of which you have good cause to be proud ! "' The old major straightened himself up to his full height, the color csime to his cheeks, and his breast swelled with pride as he replied : " I thank you. Doctor Brandon. I knew your father there in old Bankin County. We played as boys 70 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. together, and a nobler, better man I never knew. I am glad to see that you are a worthy son of such a sire." The thing was getting a little too tragic for me, so I sug-. gested it was time for retiring, and pointed to the clock which lirtd just passed the midnight hour. It is no wonder then that they all liked the young doctor, and that the next morning as we took our leave, tliey told him that they would do all they could to advance his interests, and that he must come often to see them. " Fine young man, that," said the major, after we had rid- den away. -- He's the very kind of doctor we have needed here for years, and I am sure he will succeed." " Fine young man ? " cried Miss Maud, who had just passed her eighteenth birthday. " Why, that's not half what he is ! He's splendid, and " "He's more than splendid, Maud," said Miss Fanny," he's superb ! Did you ever see such glorious eyes? And his mous- tache ! True, it's a little short, but it will grow." Ah me ! Miss Fanny was just twenty-one at that time. Eleven years have passed since then, and she's — well, if the reader is anything of a mathematician, he can add the two together, and save me the pain of telling exactly how old the young lady is at the present day. But one thing I do know. If so good- looking a young fellow were to call upon her now, she would nearly jump out of her skin for joy ; for did I not tell you t])at with all her good qualities, she was still fond of lover's talk, and solitary horsemen, and all those romantic things? I shall not stop to tell you of how John Brandon and I vis- ited all the other neighbors, and how he won them all over by his happy ways. I shall simply state that our little negh- borhood was delighted with him, and that after one week of visiting around among the neighbors, we found ourselves one afternoon at Mound Station on our way back to General Lane's house. I was glad it was all over, for tlie old horse tlie gen- eral had lent me was not the swiftest in the world, nor the easiest riding animal, and the trip had about used me up. AVIicn we got down at Mounds the doctor slapped me on the back, and cried in his cheery way : '■ Cheer up. Crab., my man, what in the world are you look- ing so glum about ? Well, I like this place, I like your peo- ple, and most of all, 1 like the .way they feed a fellow here in Madison. I am going to locate here and stay here the balance of my life. Come Crab., let's have a drink, old man ! " We walked over to the store, wliere the bar was kept, and in silence and meditation we took our drinks. Then I started A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 71 to leave, -when lie caught me by the arm, and with his queer smile said : " Don't hurry off so, old boy. Let's have another drink ! " I cast a glance of scorn and contempt upon him, and in a tone of dignity which only a Warrington can command, I said: "Young man, do you mean to insult me? /take two drinks within the hour ! ! No ! never ! You had me dancing a jig here before all the inhabitants and thirty ' niggers ' not more than a week ago, and if I took another drink now, I would be dancing the Fisher's Hornpipe and the Highland Fling all over Madison Parish before the day is done. Come, Doc, let's get back to General Lane's. I am tired out, and want a long rest." And in less than an hour we were safely landed in the peaceful shade of that fine old home. 72 A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER X. When John Brandon told me he liked all the girls — the lean ones and the fat ones, the young ones and the old ones, the red-headed ones and the black-haired ones — he stated a fact which was not much at variance from the truth ; and when he further stated that he never met a nice girl ( " all girls are nice," said he),- but that he had to come down upon his mar- row-bones and tell her that he loved her, tliis, too, was pretty nearly the condition of things. He would ofttinies slap me on the back, and cry in his merry tones : " Yes, Crab., my boy, you can't please 'em better to save your soul. They all like it, from a year old baby to an old maid of sixty. Just tell 'em how sweet they are, how bright their eyes and how fair their complexion, and how you adore them, and they will smile and swear that you are tlie best boy in all creation. I just can't keep from telling everyone I meet that I love her, love her better than any other one I ever met. And what's strangest of all, old man, the last one I see I think I love her better than any of the rest. It's fine fun just so you don't engage yourself to any of them, for if you do that, then you get yourself all mixed up, and there is no tell- ing when you will get things straight. Why, I have been engaged to no less than thirteen at one time, and it was devil- ish — (madame, it was Brandon used the bad word, not I) — hard to get matters arranged in order once more, and all the girls pacified. I have sworn off a hundred times, and said I would never ask another girl to marry me until I was certain that I could marry her, but it was no good. I was just like some old toper about his whiskey. — the first time he sees a drop, over he goes. And so it was with me ;- for the first pretty girl I would lay my eyes on, down I would go upon my knees before her, and tell her how much I adored her, and ask her to marry me. Why, over there in Eankin County, before I knew it, I was engaged to marry six girls within the month, and things got so hot there that I had to light out. I don't mean them any harm — the Lord knows I never did one harm in all my life — but I've got the love-making mania. I can no more see a pretty girl and not make love to her, than an opium- eater can resist his accursed drug. I believe I have done more love-making to the square yard than any other man of A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 73 my age in the State. I know it's wrong, and I'm going to try hard to behave all right while I am here in Madison." I am very much afraid, good madame, that the doctor is not half good enough for your highness, and tliat you have already condemned me for bringing such a sinner to your noticet If such be the case, I beg to present again to your mind the fact that the Lord made him, and not I ; and to be honest with you, I must say that I much prefer dealing with God-made (natural) characters, even though they have their faults, than to be constantly writing of dime-novel perfection ; for such perfect characters can be turned out by any one, with no brains, at five dollars the dozen. But they are not from the life : they are false in every way. Let us take life as we find it : let us paint men as they are. Let the angels alone be perfectly good, and let us mortals be satisfied with a small degree of charity, which you know covers many sins. And to conclude this moralizing, madame, let me say that if John Brandon is not good enough for you, just throw down the book, and get the Churcli catechism and tlie Tliirty-nine Articles, and devote your entire time to them. In the olden times in Madison, it had been the rule that to every ten young men there was but one young lady. At one time the girls were so scarce in our parish, that the beaux would ride twenty-five miles to see one when she came to visit friends or relations in our section. In fact, this state of afiairs continued, much to the dismay of our youth, for some time after the war. But in the spring of 1878 there had been an invasion of the fair ones into our midst, and there was an over- Howing abundance of sweetness and beauty to be found on I'very hand, a state of afiiiirs which had never been known before. Tliey came from far and near — they had gotten the news that girls were scarce here and boys in abundance — they i:ame from Oak Ridge, and Delta, and Vicksburg, and Monroe. There was a party of them at Mounds, a bevy of them at Fortune's Fork, a flock of them at Pinch-um-easy Plantation, ;i school of them at Killarney, and lots of 'em at Muscadine Plantation. So many girls had not been known in Madison at one time before. As my friend, John Warrington of Roa- noke City, would say : " The woods were full of 'em ! " And if the truth were told, I am afraid they were all having a pretty dull time of it. Our parish youths had most of them passed too often on that fascinating journey around Walnut Bayou, and as a consequence had departed this world ; and part of those that were left had not returned from college yet ; so the girls from Delta and Oak Ridge and Vicksburg and 74 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. Monroe were walking or riding up and down the big road, re- marking that they had always heard that Madison had more young men in proportion to the girls than any place in the world, but that they found fewer beaux here than elsewhere, and if the thing did not change soon they would leave the accursed place. Things were in this state when John Brandon appeared upon the scene, and in a month's time succeeded in rejuvenating the place, and set all the girls to exclaiming that Rladison Parish was not such a bad place after all. . Our people had lost 'heart, as I have before remarked, over their many disasters ; and parties and merry-making had become scarce, and pic-nics were a thing of the past. John Brandon had not been here three weeks before he had a pic- nic on foot, and a party in prospectu. He and the young ladies had gotten it up together, and it was not long before the other neighbors joined in and lent a helping hand. The party was to be given at Major Rankin's, and the pic-nic at Cypress Bayou. Soon the fun-making became universal, and the old- est inhabitants began to swear that Madison had not been so gay since the war had ended. The next day after I returned to the general's house, I was taken down with typho-malarial fever. The long rides in the hot sun had been too much for me, and upon the night I re- turned I was hot and restless, and next morning a slow, lojv fever broke out upon me, which the doctor pronounced to be of the typho-malarial type. I was not, during the whole at- tack, in the slightest danger, (you know naught never is) , and I do not wish to excite the reader's sympathy in my behalf. Grandma placed me in the best room in the liouse — one over- looking the Mississippi River — where the refreshing breeze was sure to' strike me as it blew over the waters, and wiiere I could get a good view of the large, white steamboats as they puffed up and down the river. It was pleasant lying there feeling that I had no cares to bother me, and so many kind good friends to love me ; and I thought many times that my lot was not such a hard one after all, for was not I enjoying the luxu- ries of wealth without the annoyance and worry of dealing with business affairs? The fever was never high, and there was no pain connected with it. There was only a possi- bility that it might turn dangerous — a bare possibility — and this made my friends all the kinder to me, and the more ob- servant of my slightest wish "You know. Crab., my man," the good general would say, with a twinkle in his eye, "that you are not of much account, as we all know ; but things would be mighty dull here without you, and we'd miss you A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 75 lots, old boy, indeed we would ! " So the old man would come up each afternoon and talk to me in this pleasant way, and always leave me cheerier than when he came. Tlie doctor, too, was near me much of the time, for he had taken up his abode at the general's until lie could get his little office built at Mounds. He swore that I had been taken sick in his service, and that he would nurse me through all my suflferings for the moderate fee of nothing, and be proud to be able to do me such service. And every morning Ethel would come with a bunch of fresh tl'owers, and place them on my table, and sit by me for an hour or so and try by every means to amuse me. In- deed, they made me very happy there, those good, kind peo- ple. And the day that the doctor pronounced that the fever had left me and that I was convalescent — how well do I re- member it even to this day ! What a green isle of peace the next two weeks were to me ! Was piince ever fed in more royal fashion than I, or what poor mortal ever enjoyed with such relish the food that they gave them ? How many soups and gruels and dainty broiled birds and the like did grandma send up, which she had prepared with her own dear hands ! and how many milk punches, (oh ! joy ! how my lieart leaps when I think of them !), did Miss Ethel make for me, and shake, (by Jove;, with her own nice little hands ! And one day I heard a light knock at my door, and who in the world was it but little Dan, who had ridden down on old " Fightin' Jack" with a tin pail in liis hand. And what would you give to know what was in that tin pail, Miss? Well, wait a minute and you may know. He ran to the bed where I lay, and putting his arms around my neck, kissed me. 'Twas his universal salute whenever we met. " I am so glad, Mr. Crabtrie, that you are getting well ! " he cried. "I heard that you were sick, and I wanted to come at once to see you ; but papa said I would only be in your way, and that I could not come until you were getting better. And this morning as I saw General Lane's hired man passing by, I asked him how you were, and when he told me you were gettini; well, I went up into my pigeon house, and got two fat yonnjr squabs, and I had Aunt Dinali to cook them as nice as sIjc could, and here I have brought them to you." And that was wiiat was in the tin pail, Miss. His goodness affected me more than I can tell, and as a gift of love I took tliem and ate them — for love of him, remember — because, forsooth, Aunt Dinah had put too much grease in them when she cooked them, and they came near giving me a relapse. But they were the best he had to give, and as such they were very dear to me. What 76 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. if they were not so delicate as tlie dainty broiled morsels grandma brought me? Still, tliey were his little all, and cook- ed just as well as he knew how to have tliem prepared, (Aunt Dinah loved them with much grease and she judged me by her- self), and I would have eaten them, to please the little boy, even if the consequences had been more disastrous tlian they were. 'Tis not often we find such loving kindness in this world, and it is the best to make the most of it when we do ! And after this he came down each day with some gift of kind- ness which he had gotten old Aunt Dinah to prepare. " They may not be as nice as the things you get here," he snid one day to me, " but you know I love you, and want to do all I can for you, and I bring you whatever I can. Old Aunt Dinah ain't much of a cook, you know, but she does the best 'she knows how ; and, Mr. Crabtrie, I hope you like it." I swore to him that I relished his little gifts more than words could tell ; that if the king's own cook had prepared them, they could not have given me more joy. And by and by, I was strong enough to go to a great arm- chair which my friends had kindly placed for me near theopen window. It was about the middle of June, and a cool spell had come upon us and the excessive heat had passed away. If was just cool enough to sit with the window open beside me. I could see out of it across the waters of the Mississippi. Those spires over there, shining in the sunlight, are the churches in Vicksburg. By and by a boat came puffing up the river, throwing up into the air its great columns of smoke. It did not stop at our landing, but passed on up the river. Tiien a pair of mocking-birds came and lit in the magnolia grandiflora by my window, and ^ave me a serenade. A half hour passed. I was surrounded by good friends who showered upon me every gift of love and kindness. I had no business cares to bother me. The wealth of the Vanderbilts could not have added to my joy. By and by, I saw Dr. Brandon and Ethel come up the front walk together. Ethel had been out riding, and met the doctor about a mile up the big road, as he was returning from a professional visit, and they rode home together. As tliey came up the front walk Ethel stooped and pulled a rose- bud, and handed it to him. I could see that her cheeks were bright with color, and I could hear that her voice sounded un- usually happy. They were laughing and talking as they came up the front walk but not loud enough for me to hear what they were saying. When they reached the house, Brandon A PKINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 77 came up at once to my room. He felt my pulse and sat down beside me. " Fever all gone, old boy ! I never was in the least uneasy about you, for you love good eating too well to die yet awliile ; but I was anxious to see you clear of that fever, for one never knows what is going to happen in those low fevei'S, and it would have been mighty dull here. Crab., without you. I am just back from Major Rankin's, where the young ladies and I Lave gotten up a fish-fry which is to take place a week from to-day ; and then the following Friday night we are to have a big party at their house, and have the band out from Vick.«- burg. Crab., those girls of Rankin's are fine ones ! I dou't think I ever met three such fine ones before. Miss Fanny is just glorious ! I adore her ; I worship her ! She is my god- dess; I think her divine ! You know I promised you that I would not make love to a single girl while I was here in tlie parish, and at the time I meant what I said. But tlie other night, while I was visiting Miss Fanny, she got to singing sentimental songs, and tlie moon got to shining full and briglit, and the mocking-birds all got to singing out in the front yard, and Miss Fanny and I were left togetlier at the far end of the gallery, and Miss Fanny's eyes were more than I could resist ; so I told iier that I loved her more than any one I had ever seen, and that if she refused to be mine, I would putan end to my unhappy existence in tlie most summary manner. Siie togk me. The wedding-day is fixed for the first of next May. I put it ofi" as far as possible. I put it down here in a book I keep for that purpose, that I may keep it fresh in my memory. I write all my engagements here, and number them according to pri- ority. This one is No. 213. Miss Nightingale of Vickshurg is No. 212. I am to be married to her on the 15th of April, next year. Mi.ss Chawhimpsky, of Brandon, is 211, and her day is April 2nd, oi the same year. I have only eleven en- gagements now hanging over my head ; I have arranged all the rest. I keep them all set down here in this book, for that's the only way I can keep them straight. I have to use system about it. I set 'em down the day I make 'em, and then there's no confusion. I am a miserable- man at times, Crab., for I can't marry them all, and it is only with great difliculty I get them all settled in the end." You can scarcely imaging the smile of fun that would play over his face as he talked thus to me. The merriment was irresistable, and would put me in the gayest of moods. " You must bear in mind one thing, Brandon," said I, " that jon are not tq be trifling with the affections of our little KtheJ, 78 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. She's notlring but a mere child yet, and she might not tiike it as lightly as your society girls. If you did such a thing and it got to the general's ears, he would be sure to shoot you ; and if he did not kill you, I would. So be careful, my man ! " " You need have no fear there," said he. " You two have done me too many favoi's to repay them in such a fashion. Put your mind at rest there, my boy." Soon the conversation changed to a different subject, and shortly afterwards the doc- tor went down-stairs, and my supper was brought up to me. Another week had almost passed, when the doctor announced that I might leave the house at any time, and avail myself of a ride in the open air ; for lo ! the days of my sickness were over, and I might be about once more. It was just the day before the pic-nic to be held at Cypress Bayou that this verdict was rendered, and I congratulated myself that I had recov- ered just in time to be in at the fun. A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 79 CHAPTER XI. The pic-nic, which was to be also a fish-fry, provided we were able to catch any fish, took place at the bridge which crosses Cypress Bayou at the point wiiere the roadfrom Mounds to Killarny passes. It was a general re-union of all the neighbors for ten miles around. They had not liad the heart to meet together thus in many years, and it was only the doctor's indomitable spirit and love of fun that had caused the present gathering. Howard Sayer rode down to the general's house tlie afternoon before, and he, the general, Ethel, grandma, the doctor and 1 went to the grounds together. I remember we sang all the way. Major Rankin, his wife and three daughters, came in their fine before-the-war carriage, which was getting a little old and rusty now ; and they brought the bishop, who had been spending a week with them. He was one of your jolly, sensible bishops, who did not object to taking a hand at whist, now and then, and who liked to see people, especially young people, dancing and enjoying them- selves by every innocent amusement. It was fine fun to have him at an entertainment, for he always wore a merry face, and did all he could to add to the fun. Mrs. Brews- ter came with little Mary in her dog-cart, both of them look- ing as white and spotless as the angels themselves. The girls fiom Delta, Oak-Grove, Monroe and Vicksburg were not long in putting in an appearance, dressed, each and every one, in becoming taste, and after them came the other neighbors from ten miles round. If the truth were told, I am afraid that things were rather stiff and awkward for the first hour or so ; and we all began to recognize the fact that if there were not a change for the better, the day would prove, at best, but a tedious affair. Soon Dr. Brandon took the management of things into his own hands, and from that moment the affair proved a success. He complimenied the ladies in his very best manner, chatted away with one and all of them, in his cheery way, and I doubt not courted one or two of the very prettiest of the younger ones before the day was done. But of tliis I am not at liberty to speak just now. You may think it hard, my dear Miss, that with a hero who had bragged that he could make more love to the square yard tha.n any other man in the Stale, I have given 80 A PKINCE OF GOOD FEI.LOWS. such a very small amount of love-making up to the present time. Don't get discouraged, fair Miss, for when I get him fairly down to work, lie'll satisfy you to your heart's content. But to retui'n to the pic-iiic, which was under full headway by this time. The doctor's high spirits soon became contagious, and we were before long telling stories and playing cards and laughing away just like a set of merry children who had been turned loose from school. Whenever I would see that the merriment was about to lag, I would tell one of my very best anecdotes, and set the whole company to roaring again ; and we all soon felt that the embarrassment had passed away, and that the fun had begun. Hooks and lines had been brought for the occasion for all who wished to fish, though much doubt liad been expressed as to whether the fish would bite, (they never do when you are particularly anxious for them to do so), and after awhile we, one and all, got our lines in readiness and prepared for the sport. Tiie general baited his hook, sat down on Cypress Bridge, threw his hook into the water, and then bobbed his cork up and down for about ten minutes. As he did not get even a nibble in that time, he became discouraged, and lit a cigar and went off to hunt Major Rankin and the bishop up, so as to talk about the crops and politics. The bishop and the major had had no better luck than the general, but they were a little more persevering, and were still bobbing their corks up and down in the water in the vain hope of getting a bite. They were only too glad of an excuse for quitting, and when the general offered them a cigar apiece they threw up tlie sfiort and went under the shade of a cypress tree, where they smoked and talked politics until dinner was ready. I, too, who have been a pretty good fisherman in my day, being just lazy enough to be a success at tliat calling, after putting on the most enticing baits and choosing the most promising pools, came to the con- clusion that luck was against me that day. I soon quit fishing and went over and joined the party under the shade of the cypress, where we abused the administration to our hearts' con- tent. Miss Maud Rankin picked up a worm, screamed as it wriggled in her hand, called to Dr. Brandon, who came and put it on the hook for her, then crawled out three feet on a kjg and dropped her hook in ; but as nothing bit right off she became disgusted, and dropped pole and all in the water, and commenced talking to the doctor. The other young ladies were equally successful, and after half an hour's fishing, all that we had to show for our trouble was one lone cray-flsh which Miss Fanny Rankin had brouglit to the top amid the shouts and laughter of the crowd. Doctor Brandon bad pot been fishing A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 81 during thia time, but had been devoting his time to baiting the hooks of the young ladies, and in making himself generally use- ful ; but just as tlie others gave up in despair, he took a hook and line and can of bait in his hand and said : " There is not one of you who knows the slightest thing about fishing. Why, over there in Pearl River I have pulled them out by the hundred, and never failed to catch 'em, even when other folks could not get a bite. You see tliat dark hole out yottder at the end of this log, away out there with the driftwood floating around it? Why, I can crawl out there and take this can of bait, and ib half an hour I can have as many fish as all this crowd can eat." And he was as good as his word. He had scarcely gotten out there and put his hook in the water before he pulled out a two- pound white perch, and in less than five minutes more he had a three-and-a-half pound trout. All he had to do was to put his hook in the water, and down would go the cork and out would come the fish. He sat there for one whole hour pulling them out, (they would not bite for the rest of us), and at the end of that time Brandon alone had caught a sufficiency for our little crowd. And, indeed, he was very proud of it, as you could well tell from the color in his face and his merry laugh. " You folks don't know anything about fishing," said he. " You never fished in Pearl River, that's the reason." That night, after it was all over, I asked him if they were female fish he caught so readily, and he said with a laugh that he supposed they were. I shall not take the time to describe in detail how the fish were fried, how fine a dinner was served from the joint contri- butions of the neighbors, nor of how we all enjoyed it after our day in the open air. I shall simply slate that my anecdotes took wonderfully well at dinner-time, and kept the assembly in a constant roar. You have all been to a pic-nic in your time, and know as well as I do, how much misery can be concen- trated into a day of such sport, and how many red-bugs can get upon one within six hours out in the woods, and alas ! how many days it takes afterwards to get rid of the little wretches. But John Brandon was the soul and life of this pic-nic, and caused us to have the very best of times. It would have been but a dull affair, even with all my anecdotes, without him. Shortly after dinner I saw Mrs. Brewster sitting off" some distance from the others, and as I had not yet been able to have a chat witli her, I went up and took a seat on the log be- side her. I have failed to state that during my illness, she, 82 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. too, had sent me several dainty things, and I wished now to thank her for her kindness. " So you are well, and around once more, Mr. Crabtrie ? " said she. " I am truly glad to see you up again. I was a little bit uneasy about you, I must admit, though the doctor assured me each time he passed, that there was nothing serious the matter with you." " I have come," replied I, " to thank you, Mrs. Brewster, for the nice jelly and wine you sent me during my illness. I relished them, indeed, very much. And that bunch of flowers was exquisite ! 1 recognized several of my old favorites in it. By the way, how is James Vick getting on ngw ? " " Ah," cried she, with a laugh, " he never looked better in all his life ! Ever since you re-potted him he looks like a new man. He has started off to growing again in good earnest, and is already full of bloom-trusses." After a little fui-ther talk about her flowers, I changed the subject to John Brandon. " We've a treasure in that new doctor of ours, Mrs. Brews- ter. I never saw a young man try so hard to make people happy, nor one who succeeded so well in his efforts. Why, he's brought new life into this community. Who but lie would have the energy to get up such an affair as this, and who but he could have put it through without boring us all to death ? To tell the truth, much to my surprise, I have had a pleasant day, and I believe the rest have enjoyed it likewise." " Yes," she replied, " I, too, have had a most enjoyable time, meeting with and talking to my old friends. It is the first time I have seen them all together since the war, and it makes me feel young again. I believe it does us all good to meet together in social intercourse once in a while, and discuss matters of public interest. And as to the young physician, I am charmed with him ! He is so kind and attentive alike to both young and old ! It is rarely you see a young man now- a-days, who is willing to spend an iiour or so in entertaining old people ; but Doctor Brandon, I am glad to say, is a noble exception to the rule. He is just as careful to pay his respects to the oldest lady as he is to converse with the prettiest and youngest girl, and he is equally attentive to .'ill. I have heard but one expression of opinion in regai-d to him, and that is that he is a most excellent young man." After talking a little longer about Brandon, I got up to leave, intending to go over and converse awhile with Miss Jennie Rankin, who at that time was without a beau. As I was leaving, Mrs. Brewster stopped me a moment and said : " Won't you please come, Mr. Crabtrie, and spend a week A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 83 or SO with me as soon as you feel able to move ? I have ahvuys felt like a mother to you, ever since your own mother's death. We were young ladies together, and intimate friends, and a dearer, sweeter friend I never had. Now won't you promise to come, for I want to talk flowers with you ? I get very lonesome at times, and long for some congenial person to talk to during the day when little Mary is off at scliool." I promised her that I would come the day after the party at Major Rankin's. I could not go sooner, for I had made an arrangement with the general's folks to accompany them to that affair. Then taking leave of Mrs. Brewster, I went over and talked to Miss Jenny for half an hour, until she told me in her candid way that I was boring her, and that she wished I would send some sprightly young fellow to her who could amuse her. I had known her ever since she was a baby, and we were such old friends that I could say what I wished to her. She felt that she could avail herself of the like privilege toward me, and when she told me I was but a stupid old fel- low, and that I bored her awfully, I only laughed ; for to tell the truth, I had been talking crops to her, and asking her how her mother's vegetable garden was getting on, and how many young chicken^ they had. She did not like the talk, as I well kneW) and she wanted some young buck who would put more romance in his conversation. I went off, hunted John Bran- don up and sent him to her. " That young lady yonder," said I, pointing to Miss Jenny, " wants a real lively young fellow to come and talk to her. She wants one who can say nice romantic things to her. I nearly bored her to death talking about the pigs and chickens. Go on. Doc, my man, you will suit her to a dot." So he took his way to the lady's side, and in two minutes' time they were talking and giggling to their full delight. There were other couples talking around about, there were other nice tilings said by other parties, many friendships were renewed and visits promised, and so the day wore on. Tlie time had come for us to take our departure, when lo ! the doc- tor and Miss Jenny were no where to be found, and Miss Fanny and her mother requested me to go in search of tliem. I had not hunted more than five minutes when I got a glimpse of the couple in question silting at the foot of a gum tree, around which twined a bignonia vine. Miss Jennie had one of its trumpet floweis twirling in her hand, and the doctor was sitting at her feet. It was evident that they had had some romantic talk, and just as I approached them, and before they saw me, I observed the doctor take from his pocket the little l^Qok whlcb be h^d formerly sligwn ine, and I saw him write 84 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. down in it something which I guessed to be a new engagement, the number of wliich was 214, but the date I did not leain for several hours afterwards. " Come," cried I, " all liands are ready to return home, and I have been delegated to find the lost ones. Your mother, Miss Jennie, is mucli troubled about you. She evidently thinks that the doctor has run away with you." Miss Jenny's face turned red, but the doctor was not the least embarrassed. He answered with spirit and fun on his side, and we three then took our way back, when we reached the crowd just as they were departing. I rode home in a single buggy with little Ethel, and we had much talk about the day. " Well, little one," said 1, taking her small hand in mine, " what kind of a time did you hiive to-day? Whom did you talk with ? and which young fellow did you like the best? " " I had a splendid time. Cousin Crab., indeed I did. I talked to John Jones, and Jack Smith, and Mr. Sayer, and the bishop, and Major Kankin, and lots of others." "And how about the doctor? I only saw you talking with him about ten minutes. And that latter part of my question? you have not answered it." " Oh, the doctor tliinks I am too young to talk with. He likes grown young ladies, and insisted on talking to me about my dolls, and I laughed at him and he went away to talk to Miss Jemimah Smith." " Indeed, did he ? That's a vile rascal, that doctor of ours. You must beware of him, little one, and never talk to him of anything more serious tiian your dolls and the like. He's a vile rascal, I say. You hate him of course. But you have still left unanswered the latter part of my question. Shall I repeat it? What young fellow did you like the best? I saw you talking longest to Howard Sayer, and what do you think of him?" " He is entirely too good," said the little miss, pouting out her lips. " I don't like awfully good people. They make me feel wicked. If you want to know whom I like best, I shall tell you. It is Doctor Brandon. It's a secret. I should never have told any one but you. Cousin Crab., and you must never tell any one else, now will you ?" It was what I had expected. Tliat rascally doctor had charmed our little pet also. I assured her that I should never tell any one of her liking. I knew as yet it was only a prefer- ence, for had it been more she would never have told me of it. And so we talked on after this fasliipn ti}l we reficljed the gen- WSl's front gate, A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 85 CHAPTER XII. We had a merry time that evening at the general's house. Howard Sayer remained over all night, and returned to Delta in the morning. Dr. Brandon had asked Ethel to teach him how to waltz, for in spite of his love for fun he had not yet been able to catch the waltz step. The little miss knew it to perfection, having caught it in her fifth year ; and while How- ard played some light air on the piano, Ethel gave the doctor his lesson. But he made but poor headway in the matter, and after an hour's practice, he decided it were best to give it over and to devoCe his time entirely to the square dances. He liad been taking lessons for years before, and came to the conclusion that waltzing was not one of his strong points. After this \\ e had singing and card-playing, and thence to bed. When we reached our bedroom, for (he doctor and I slept in the same room, I opened fire on him at once. " You old sinner, you, so you have been at it again ! Will you please be so good as to tell me what you were writing in that little book of yours when I sur|)rised j-ou and Miss Jen- nie in the woods there to-day ? You need not tell me the number, for I have but to add one to the last and I have it ; but will you be so good as to favor me with the date it will transpire, for I always like to attend my friends' weddings, and be ready for them when they occur. By the way, may I not be one of the groomsmen for this one ? I have served many times in that capacity, and always with eelat to myself and friends." He had been expecting this attack from me, and was not en- tirely unprepared for it. As he untied his shoe-string, he looked up at me with that satanical smile beaming on his face, and replied : "It was you. Crab., who got me into that business. I was getting on all right, and hadn't a mind to do any courting, and had decided that I had passed the day in safety, when you sen| me to that young lady. You were the cause of it all, my boy 1 When I reached her side we talked for some time on every-day topics, until I began on Mrs. Brewster and her flow- ers, and asked her if she liked ' petutcias ' ? She laughed at me, and remarked that the wild-flowers in these woods wei-e lovely, upon which I offered to go in search of some with her. 86 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOAVS. "We wandered around for some time, finding only ferns and wild violets ; but, by and by, we came to tlie trumpet flower, over which she went into ecstacies ; and after we had gathered a handful and admired them, we observed that the seat beneath the vine was both soft and enticing, so we took it. When we had been sitting there about a quarter of an hour, talking about flowers, I told her that after all she was the ' fairest flower' of them all. Tiiat led on to something else, until, by and by, I don't know how it happened, but I found myself en- gaged to her, and recorded her as No. 215. The date is fixed for the 20th of May, 1879, and I should be delighted, sir, to have you wait upon me on that occasion, for I well know how liandsome you can look when you are dressed at your best. I started out this morning with the intention of behaving myself, and if you liad not sent me over to that young miss I would have come through all right." " Well, Doc, my friend," said I, jumping in bed and tuck- ing the bar in after me, " it is none of my business, and I judge that you are old enough to attend to your own affairs ; but let me tell you this, that if old man Eankin gets hold of it, he will shoot you as sure as your name is Brandon. These two girls, for you must remember you are engaged to both of tliem now, will get to talking the thing over to each other ; and when they find out how matters stand, they will go to their papa with it, and then you will have to look out, my man. The Rankin family is a high-toned one, and they will stand none of your tomfoolery." " I have been thinking of that," said he, in his queer way, " and I swore I would not do it. I tried hard not to do it. But then, I could not help it. The thing was born in my blood, and I could no more keep from telling those girls that I loved them, than an old toper can keep from his whiskey. Blast me ! the girls had no business looking so lovely if they did not want me to make love to 'em. But I took the precau- tion to warn them both to keep it a profound secret, telling them tliat it would not look well for a young man to engage himself so soon after he had moved into a neighborhood, and they promised me faithfully they would. It is possible that I may come through safely yet." This is about the last of his conversation that I remember liearing, for the exercise of the day had had a good effect upon me, and I soon dropped off to sleep, not to awaken until the breakfast-bell was ringing down-stairs. Friday was the day appointed for the party at Major Rankin's, and our little neighborhood was looking forward to it as the A PRIKCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 87 social event of the year. The Rankin family, as I have before remarked, was one of refinement and culture. Major Rankin had come from Mississsippi long before the war and settled here, and in one of his trips to New Orleans had met Mrs. Rankin, and he liked her so well that he brought her home with him the next winter, when he made his annual visit to that city. She was related to some of the best families in New Orleans, and liked no little to tell you about tliem when you went to see her. Major Rankin did not have a large planta- tion, there were not more than five hundred acres in it at most ; but lie always kept out of debt and managed his affairs with shrewdness, and could therefore give his family more luxuries than people who had larger plantations with mortgages hang- ing over them. All the family were staunch Episcopalians, as I have before remarked, but they did not object to a little in- nocent fun in the shape of dancing or card-playing. Mrs. Rankin had written down to New Orleans inviting two nephews to come up on the occasion of the party, as it would be a pro- pitious time for them to pay her a visit, and it was not long before the reply came stating that they would. For several days before great preparations had been on foot for the party, for though it was to be given at the Rankin house, because the hall was large and suited to dancing, still it was a neighborhood affair, and contributions were expected from all the neighbors. Grandma had two turkeys killed and sent in on that afternoon, notwithstanding the fact that it was the middle of summer. Besides these, she sent several cakes, salads, bread, etc. On the day of the party cakes, salads, and meats began to pour in from all directions, and by night there was enough to feed an army. The ices were to be frozen at the Rankin house, so the freezers were sent full of cream and frozen there. The band came out on the three o'clock train, and was in readiness for the occasion. About dark the yard was aglow with Chinese lanterns, and at half-past eight the guests began to arrive. It is not my object to give you a minute account of the party, for I have many things of more importance to relate. It is sufficient to say that it was the most Stylish thing tiie par- ish had witnessed for years. The two nephews of Mrs. Ran- kin arrived from New Orleans, and appeared in the glory of full dress : the general, Howard Sayer and I were the only other guests so attired. The music was good — good, at least, to us, who so seldom hear good music. The girls from Delta, Monroe, Oak Ridge and Vicksburg were dressed to perfection, (just as all girls should be in a romance), and they danced and 88 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. flirted, and swore that Madison Parish was the fineft place in the world, and that if things were brought to a p'.nch they vould not mind settling here. Indeed, it was a grand affair, ti d I got up and shook my old feet in a livelier fashion than I li id done in years. I waltzed, and I polked, and I danced the s [uare dances, every one of them ; and I did not slight ^ s.iigle girl in tlie room, for I did not know but what I might wish to spend a week at "tlieir house before the year was up, and I knew it was well to be on good terms with all of 'em. I felt the blood coursing tlirough my veins in a livelier fashion than for years, I felt my youth returning to me, and I went so far as to have some romantic talk with Miss Jemimah Smilh, who hasn't had a beau since the stars fell. The Misses Eankin were in their glory, dressed in brand new silks, brought up from New Orleans for the occasion ; and our little Ethel, tJJOiigh dressed in a white gown of plain stuff, looked more pretty than any of them ; and if it had not been for the general's ferocious eye watching her, I doubt not that some young buck would have been saying nice things to her. Indeed, in spite of all the general's stern looks, I believe that some fine things were whispered in her ear that night; for what caused the color in her cheeks to burn so rosy red, and the light in her eye to flash with so much joy? I wonder if that rascal of a doctor has been saying anything to her? Indeed he had better not. It is only the excitement of the dancing and the musie that has brought the color to her face, and caused her to look so happy. See ! the other young ladies' cheeks are just as rosy ; in fact, happiness is everywhere. At twelve o'clock sharp we were invited out to supper, and what a supper it was! 'There was enough for four hundred people, and there were but seventy-five present. All the nice things of the season were in the greatest abundance ; for I would have you distinctly kijow, that when the good wives and daughters of Madison Parish try their best, tliere is no place in the world wliere they can prepare a better supper than here. I have been there and know. Indeed, it was a grand affair, and in the next week's issue of the parish paper I gave a full account of the party that more than did justice to it. If the reader wishes a more de- tailed account than I have given here, let him look at the issue of July 7th of that year, and of that paper, (which is kept on file at the Court House), and he may have the pleas- ure of reading it at any time. In fact, the costumes of all the (he ladies, young and old, are given there, (Mariah I. got them up), and are, with the exception of thii-ly odd mistakes, A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 89 approximately correct, so we omit them here. It is sufficient to say tliat all the neighbors were there, that the supper was all that could be expected, that the dancing continued until three o'clock — and might have continued longer, but that the general in his honest way announced that it was time that all honest folks were in bed, and that as for his party he intended to see that they were soon there. ^We left just as the chickens were crowing for day, and reached home as the sun was com- ing up over the Vicksburg hills. It is needless to say that we all slept the greater part of next day : all but grandma. She did not even lie down till her usual hour at night. But there were few of us who had the nerve and force of will that she possessed. 90 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XIII. The next morning after the day we returned from the Ran- kin party, found me riding along the big road on my way to Mrs. Brewster's, where, as the reader knows, I intended spend- ing the following week. As I jogged along on the old horse which the general had kindly lent me for the occasion, I w'fls whistling in a merry mood ; for truly, there were many things to make me happy, and I was giving expression to my joy. First, then, my digestion was good, and that alone is a god- send ; second, my friends furnished me the best of food to eat ; and lastly, I had the very best of friends to love me and pro- vide for me, which is the greatest blessing of them all. I had eaten breakfast at the general's house, and that good man had walked to the front gate with me, as I took my de- parture, and giving me a hearty hand-shake and a fatherly god-speed, he said : " Always remember, my boy, that we are glad to have you. You need not be in any particular hurry to hasten back, for to tell the trutli, we have had enough of you for one time ; but when they get tired of you everywhere else, remember we al- ways have a warm welcome for you here. So God bless you, my boy!" Grandma had had my clothes nicely done up, and packed them herself in my large valise ; and Ethel had kissed me with tears in her eyes. " Cousin Crab., I am very happy," said she. " Not happy because you aie going away," she add- ed, " for I hate to see you leave, and you must come back just so soon as you can, for the old house will be awfully lone- some without you." And so they had given me a hearty send-oiF, and I was on my way to my new abode. There are some people in this world to whom this mode of living, which I had adopted, miglit not prove altogether pleasant ; but after all, when I sur- veyed the lot of humanity at large, I had to admit that my condition in life was much better than the average. For had I not enough to eat ? enough to wear ? a comfortable room ready for me at a dozen or more houses? and a constant change of scene and diet, which you know is the very best liver-medicine the world has yet discovered. Many a respect- able merchant or planter, who lias a large bank account, has to A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 91 put up with worse eating than I ; the society I move in ia vastly better than theirs, and the long and short of the whole matter is, that if I had to swap places with them, and eat common victuals, I would feel miserable indeed. When I readied Mrs. Brewster's, I found her as usual out in the front yard working among the flowers. Every day each new weed that came up had to be destroyed, the vines had to be trained, the weak plants staked, and tlie overgrown ones trimmed to proper proportions. As I rode in sight she came to the gate to greet me, and said in her pleasant way : "I have been looking for you for some time, Mr. Crabtrie, but had almost given you up, as you did not come yesterday ; but then, I suppose you slept most of the day after the party. And'just look here," she continued, as we walked up the front walk, "my La France has two enormous buds for such a little bush. Isn't it a lovely shade of pink and a most mag- nificent rose ? " I had to admit that it was. At that time La France was something new to us, and its beauty caused much remark ; but it has become a universal favorite since, and is to be seen in almost every collection. So, talking on after this fashion about her flowers, my dear little lady took me and showed me my bedroom, the one she reserved for her friends when they came to see her. It was in the shade of the honey-suckle vines, and the bed-linen was so spotlessly white, and the other appurtenances were in such exquisite taste, that it was a joy to look upon it. " So you see I have everything in readiness for you," she said, as she took me in. "Here on the centre-table I have placed my edition of Thackeray, so it will be handy for you, for I know you love Thackeray better than all, Mr. Crabtrie ; and yonder in the hook-case you can find Carlyle and Goethe, your other favorites. And here by Thackeray's works I have put you a bouquet of the freshest roses, for I know you love roses almost as well as you do ' Henry Esmond ' or ' The New- comes.' If you feel like smoking, don't hesitate to do so on my account, for I always like to have my friends do just as they wish, and not feel stilted while they are with me." And so I was settled in ray new abode, where kindness and love had done all that was possible to make my stay a pleasant one. The good kind soul placed her dog-cart at my disposal, so after dinner I drove up to the Mounds to get the mail, and stopped over a few minutes at Brandon's office, which he had completed by this time, and into which he had just moved. We had a pleasant afternoon's chat, and when the train came 92 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. in from Vicksburg, I returned to Mrs. Bre-wster's with the mail. And that afternoon, as the sun was going down, I sat down at my table in Mrs. Brewster's home ; and taking up the last volume of " The Newcomes," started to reading at the point where tlie noble old colonel goes to Gray Friars to die. It had always been a favorite passage with me, and I had read and re-read it many times; but here, with all the sweet and pleasant surroundings, with tlie scent of the roses and honey- suckles blowing in upon me, the pathos of the great man en- tered deeper into my soul than ever before, and left a holy calm which I had seldom in life experienced. I read on and on till dusk ca'me and I could just barely see the letters on the page, and till at last I came to that surpassingly beautiful passage which records the death of old Colonel Newcome, when I laid the book down upon the table, and marched out to the front gallery with my heart full of love toward all living things. As I was feeling thus little Mary ran up and had a long talk with me, telling me all about her school and her lessons, her playmates and such other things as interested the little child most. The supper-bell ringing soon, we went in, where Mrs. Brewster had prepared for us as dainty a meal as mortal could wish. " So you were at the Mounds this afternoon ? " said that lady to me soon after I had taken my seat at the table. " Did you see anything of Doctor Brandon there ? I have not seen him pass in the last three days. Little Mary has not been quite well for several days, and I wish to call him in when he passes. I don't tliink it serious enough to send for him, but if you see him passing at any time, please hail him for me." "I was at his office this afternoon," I replied; "and had I known it, I might have requested him to stop when he passed. He has just gotten settled in his new office, and has everything arranged nicely. If you wish it, I will drive up this evening after supper and bring him down." "Oh," replied she, "it is nothing serious, and not worth the wliile to go to all that trouble about. He passes every day, nearly, and we can call him in. He stopped in here four days ago to help me work his 'petutcia' bed, as he calls them, and said that he would stop by the next time he passed to carry Miss Maud a bouquet of 'petutcias.' What he finds in those coarse flowers to admire, I can't see ; but he took a fancy to them the first day he came, and nothing would do but that I should give him the bed." The next afternoon I rode again to the Mounds, and tried to A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 9® impress it on my mind to tell the doctor what Mrs. Brewster had told me in regard to little Mary ; but when I went over to the doctor's office he was attending (o some darkies, and when he was through the thing had quite passed from my mind. I inquired of him if old man Rsinkin had taken a shot at him yet, and such like foolishness, and he, on his side, gave me as good as I sent. After half an hour of such talk, the train came in, the mail was distributed, and I returned to Mrs. Brewster's before I had remembered that I had forgotten to tell Brandon about the little girl. That night at supper I had a talk witli Mrs. Brewster in re- gard to Mary, who was still ailing, but the little lady said that it was nothing, and would pass away in a day or two. But her judgment was sadly at fault, for tjie next morning the little girl awoke with a hot fever, and about sunrise Mrs. Brewster knocked at my door and asked me to go to the Mounds and bring Doctor Brandon back as soon as possible, as the child was tery sick. I made all haste, but when I reached the Mounds and knocked at the doctor's office, I received no an- swer ; and upon going over to the store to inquire about him^ they told me that he had ridden over to Vicksburg to see about some medicine he greatly needed, and which had beeil delayed by .fome mistake. I sent a note down to Mrs. Brews- ter, stating that the doctor had gone over to Vicksburg, and that I would go on up to Duckport, in the hope of finding a physician there. So I hastened up to Duckport, but, alas ! found their doctor off on a ten-mile visit. I then came back tothe Mounds, and telegraphed to Brandon that we needed him very mucli, asking him when he would be out. He answered tliat he would be back on the afternoon train, and as it was only an hour before it was due, I waited at the Station for him. As the train rushed into the depot, I saw him spring from the platform, and running up to me and shaking my hand, he asked : " How is the little one ? I hope I have gotten back in time ! " "I am afraid that she is in a very bad condition. Doctor," I replied. " Mrs. Brewster told me that there were symptoms of swamp fever. That is tlie disease lier other children died of. You must save tliis one if you can ! " " Yes, Crab., we must do all we can for this one. It would kill the dear.little lady to lose her last child. I did not dream that my first serious case would be little Mary Brewster. I only hone that this case is subject to tre^tjpent, so many of 94 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. those cases of swamp-fever are hopeless from the beginning. But we must do all we can here, my man." When we reached the house, Brandon went in at once to examine the patient, and in about ten minutes came out to me where I was standing on the gallery, his face looking very pale and grave, and said : " Crab., I wish you would take the cart yonder, and drive out to General Lane's and bring Grandma Gray back with you. We will need her badly as a nurse. There is no one in the neighborhood who would do as well as she." " How is the little one, Doc. ? " questioned I, and yet dread- ing to hear the answer. " Surely, you can save her? " He took me to the far end of the gallery, as if afraid that some one would overhear him, and whispered in my ear : " There is not the slightest hope in the world. . No power less than God's can save her. I have never seen a case where the symptoms were more unfavorable." " Have you told the mother so ? " " No," said he, " I tried, but my courage failed me. 'Tis the first time in my life that such a' thing has occurred. The poor little woman will find out the truth soon enough. But hurry. Crab., and bring grandma back with you. We will need her before the end." It was with a sad heart that I returned upon the same road over which I had traveled so cheerily but a few days before. Why had death picked out this one when there were so many others who were willing and longing to go ? Why this child, who was the all in all of the poor widow, when there were so many others He might have taken who would scarcely have been missed? Pray do not ask me such questions, madame, for I can only answer that God knoweth best which to take, and that by and by, in the sunshine of His love, we too may know. 'Tis an old, old answer ; but after all, I like it better than any of the new. Within ten minutes after I had reached the general's, grandma was ready to return with me. She knew exactly what she needed, and she had it in readiness without hurry or confusion. The general rode up as we were leaving, and shak- ing hands with me, asked me if I had any news. ■'Very bad news, General," said I ; "little Mary Brewster is dangerously ill, and 1 have come to fetch grandma as a nurse. It is swamp fever, and the doctor thinks there is no hope." A pained expression came over the general's face, and it was a moijient Ijefgre he replied ; A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 95 " I can't understand it, my boy ! It seems as if God might have left her that one ; He has taken all the rest. It will go mighty hard with her. Poor, poor little lady, she cannot hold up under it! It will kill her ! " The general knew what the pain was, for he had suffered himself. When we reached Mrs. Brewster's the doctor came out to meet us, and told us that the child was no better ; in fact, was getting worse, but that he had not yet found courage to tell her mother her true condition. Grandma took her post as nurse, and Iield faithfully by it till tlie end, as had always been lier custom. I remained in my room to go upon any errand when I was called. Soon I heard a knock upon my door and Mrs. Brewster entered. She seemed to be suffering much mental distress, and for a time was at a loss what to do or say. She fumbled among the bunch of roses tliat stood upon my centre-table for a while, and pulled a pure white bud from their midst and began tear- ing it to pieces. Then she took the chair I had offered her, aud said : " Mr. Crabtrie, I have come to you to ask you to tell me the truth about my child. She's the last one I've left now, and I can't believe that God will take her from me. I haven't had the courage to ask Dr. Brandon about her, I've been afraid ; but I have known you so long, Mr. Crabtrie, I could hear the truth from you. It would not hurt so badly. Surely, sir, I am not going to lose my little one ? " And the dear soul put her face in her hands and began to sob. What was I to do ? Tell her the truth and stab her to the heart? No, I was not brave enough for that. " Oh ! dear Mrs. Brewster," said I, not knowing what I was saying, " God could not be so cruel as to take her from you. He is all-powerful and He is aH-good. Let us put our full trust in Him, and He will do for us what is the best. My good friend, where there is life there is hope." Siie got up from her chair and came over and put her hand on my shoulder before she spoke. She was looking out of the window where the honey-suckles grew, into the cotton fields far beyond. " God has taken them all from me, my dear friend, but this one little flower, and I had learned, through mucli pain, to siiy ' God's will be done : He knoweth best.' But I have always thought that He would leave me this one treasure. He has so many little ones over in His mansions that He could not want my darling. I knew He would take the others, for they were weak and delicate ; but Mary was stout and healthy, and I 96 A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. thought she would live to be the joy of my old age. Oh ! how can I bear to lose her ? she, who has been my joy, my life, my all ! But— but— if it be God's will, God's will be done ! " And then I found courage to tell her in the tenderest words what the doctor had told me, that there was no hope for her child ; but though I told her in the kindest way, yet it stabbed the dear soul to the heart, and she threw herself upon the bed ill a burst of sobs, crying that God should not take her child away from her, that it was too hard, that it would kill her. I knew that nothing I could say would comfort her, and I felt her grief to be sacred ; so I took my hat, and went out in the yard among the flowers. I had not been there ten minutes when I saw Mrs. Brewster come out of the house, arid pass down the walk to meet me. She took me by the arm and said : " Come here, my friend," and she carried- me to a rose bush that was full of pure white roses. " Tliis is Mary's rose bush. She planted it on her ninth birthday. It is Amie Viebert,and the rose is pure and spotless, like my little child. When she is gone I can never look upon it without thinking of her. I came out here to tell you, Mr. Crabtrie, that when I said that God was cruel, I did not mean what I said ; and tiiat now, though it crushes me, that I submit liumbly to His will. And after all, He knows besf. They will all be together soon — little Arthur and Charley and John will be there to meet her — it will be like going home to her. I alone will be left behind in the darkness and night. But it won't be for long, my dear, good, kind friend, not for long ; and I too will go to meet them, and we will all be together in that land were suffering, and sorrow, and pain can never come. I can submit now. God's will be done ! " My heart was too full of sorrow on my good friend's account to be able to speak. Tenderly I took her hands in mine, and we walked togetiier into the sitting-room, where the pictures of her other children were arranged along the mantle ; and while she was looking at them, I went over and got the old family Bible, and turning to the fourteenth chapter of St. John, read it to her. It had been a favorite cliapter of my own mother, when I was a boy ; and though I had not read it in years, yet I knew it would do the poor soul more good than any words of mine. When I closed she grasped my hand, and with tears rolling down her cheeks, said : " God bless you, my friend ! It does not seem so hard to bear now. It hurts me — oh, liow it hurts me ! But I know it to be for the best, and in humbleness of spirit I can say : ' The I^ord is loye ; His will be done,' " A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 97 CHAPTER XIV. About half an hour after Mrs. Brewster went back into tlie sick-room, grandma came out of that apartment, and entered the room where I was sitting. I could tell by her looks and actions that something was agitating her, and that it was with difficulty that she could enter upon the subject that was upper- most in her mind. I gave her but little encouragement to talk, for I was feeling but gloomily myself; and it was several min- utes before she said, more to herself than to me : " It is all Dr. Brandon's fault that the liltle girl is dyin' in ponder. He is givin' her weak, new-fangled medicines that would not save the life of a flee. If they would just allow me to give her one dose she would be well in a week. I have taken him aside a dozen times and told him that if he would give the girl a big dose of calomel it would cure her, but he says that it would be of no use, and only add to the little thing's sufFerin'. If that child dies it will be all that doctor's doin's." I answered her nothing. I knew iier fondness for giving calomel, and I thought it more than probable that she was wrong and the doctor right. But I could see that the matter was greatly troubling her, so I decided to call the doctor out and have a discussion of the matter with him. So I brought him into the room where grandma and I had been sitting, and said to him : " Grandma here thinks, Doctor, that if you were to give the patient a large dose of calomel it might save her life. I know notiiing about the case myself, and nothing whatsoever about medicine ; but if tliere is a chance of saving the little one, pray give her that chance ! " He turned from me toward the old lady with a'pained look on his face, and said : " If you had your way. Grandma, and were allowed to ti-eat the child, how much of your medicine would you give her? To satisfy you, and to give the child every possible chance,. I might yield to your request. Please measure out the dose you wish to give." Grandma took from her satchel a bottle of calomel, which she always carried with her when she visited the sick, and tak- ing a teaspoon she poured out her usual dose, The doctor 8 98 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. looked at it a moment, and a very bitter smile passed over his face as he said to her : " Grandma, doubtless you mean well, and for this fact alone you should not be too strongly condemned. All the medicine in the universe could not save Mary Brewster now. And if you gave her that dose you would cause her to die in agonies of pain. No, I will not allow such torture to be administered with my consent ! She will die in spite of all that we may do, but I shall see that her death shall be as peaceful and as calm as possible. I shall not be a demon for mere prejudice's sake!" Grandma saw by the determined look 'on Brandon's face, that he meant every word that he said ; so she insisted no further on giving the drug, and soon they both returned to the sick- room. Darkness had come on some time before, aiid for an hour I tried to read ; but the letters would run together on the page, and I failed utterly to catcli the writer's meaning ; so I laid tliu book down upon the table, turned the lamp low, and went to tiie window and looked out into the night. After the extreme heat of the day, the air had become much cooler, and there was a pleasant breeze blowing in from the south. A mocking-bird was singing low and sweet in the honey-suckle vines, the moon was up, and light, fleecy clouds were floating across the sky. In about an hour's time I saw my door open, and Brandon entered. " It will soon be over now ! Thank God, sir, the little one is suffering no pain ! She is passing away in peace and quiet. I could do that much for her — nothing more. Grandma has given up entirely to my will. I could never have consented for her to inflict such torture upon the little child. She means well, no doubt, but well-meaning people often inflict more pain than bad-meaning ones. The poor mother is heart-broken. She is trying to keep down her sobs, and saying at each outburst ' God's will be done.* It will all be ov«r soon." And the doctor left me again to myself, and for half an hour I could think of nothing, hear nothing but the poor mother's sobs. At the end of that time both the doctor and grandma returned to the room where I was sitting, and the doctor coming up close to me, put his hand on my chair, and said : " It is all over now, sir, the little one is past all suffering. She died in her mother's arms, and the last thing she said was that she could see her little brothers and sisters in a bright, bright land. A sweet, calm look passed over her face, and she was gone. Thank God, she went without much pain 1 " "I don't know how poor Mrs. Brewster will bear up under it all. She's got npthiu' to live for now," said srandraa. " SI^ A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 99 throwd herself there on the bed by her little dead child, and she is sufferin' so she can't even sob. God be merciful to her in her sorrow ! " ******* Next day, at four o'clock, everything was in readiness for the burial. The bishop had left our neighborhood a few days before, so I had ridden out to General Lane's and asked him to read the burial service, which lie reluctantly consented to do. So, as the clock struck four, the neighbors were assembled to do (he last sad rites over the body of the little girl. The cof- fin had been covered with white flowers, and tlie body of tlie child lay within it, looking as natural as in life, only more peaceful and more angelic. Mrs. Hrewster seemed broken witli grief, but submissive to lier lot. She gave way to her sorrow but once — when the lid was placed upon the coflin, and siie saw for the last time in this world the face of her darling child. The general read the Episcopal service in his rich, deep voice, and as tlie golden summer sunshine fell all around us, we laid to rest all that was mortal of Mary Brewster, and as we left the grave tliere was not a tearless eye in that little assembly. That afternoon, as they liad all gone but grandma and I, Mi-8. Brewster took me out among her flowers; and as we walked around among the beds, she said: "These are all I have left now. These must be my chil- dren till I die. All my other treasures are over with God now. He will keep tiiem safely till I go. But my flowers will com- fort and cheer me, and, Mr. Crabtrie, you must come often to see me, and help me work them, and let me t.ilk to you about them ; for you must know that I am but a poor, lonely old woman, and that there is not much joy left in my life. I can't understand it now. Some day, in the presence of God's love, I shall learn the meaning of it all." I promised her that I would come often to see her, and gave her such other comfort and cheer as was in my power ; yet I knew too well it could do but little to relieve her grief. God had placed her under deep affliction — I knew not why — I knew not why — and only time could turn her sorrow into joy. 100 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XV. On the following Tuesday, after the events recorded in the last chapter took place, Mrs. Brewster was expecting two cous- ins to arrive from Maryland to spend a month or so with her; so I knew my room would be needed, and iiad made my prep- arations to move elsewhere. I usually made my plans several weeks beforehand, so that when 1 foundl wasnolonger wanted at one place, I could pack my valise and ciiange my abode. At times 1 have almost been at a loss where to go next, and this was one of those occasions ; but just at the time I thought for- tune was against me and tliat I should fail to get my usual in- vitations to visit my friends, I rode to the Mound one day in Mrs. Brewster's dog-cart, and when the mail was distributed, a letter was handed to me, addressed in a boyish hand to Na- poleon "W. Crabtrie, Esq., and what was my joy upon opening it, to find that it was from my little friend, Dan Selden. I give here the letter, spelling and all, just as he wrote it : Glen Mary Plantation JUL-Y 15th 1878 " dear mr Crabtr " pappa is goin Down To new Orleans to see To Some bisnes and He told me to Eite an ax yon to kom Out and stay with Me til he Come back. Please, Sir, be sure And come for i want. to see you Very much, and I want You to Tell nie all about the panther killin than Man, and lots of other nice stories. Old fightln Jack is well. " You little friend, "Dan Selden." "God bless his little soul!" said I, putting the letter in my pocket. " His heart is all right, even if his spelling is a little off; and if John Selden thought as much of his boy as he does of making money, that, too, with a little care, might be made as correct as need be. God bless my little friend, for he has as loving a heart as can be found in all Louisiana; and I shall go to him when I leave Mrs. Brewster's, and I shall add one Indian and two panthers to every story I know, and I shall tell 'em to him, or my name is not N. Warrington Crabtrie! " So, the morning of the day Mrs. Brewster expected her cousins to arrive at the Mounds, found me on my road to John gulden's bouse, where my love of the little boy had determine^ A PKIHCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 101 me to stay for several days, and put up with Aunt Dinah's greasy cooking. Just how great a sacrifice I was making no one will ever know, save those few mortals who love good eat- ing as well as I. As I came to Ihe Mounds I stopped over with John Brandon for a time, (as had become my custom now upon passing that place), but I found our doctor out of spirits, and but ill-disposed to talk ; so I started again upon my way to the river. At General Lane's I stopped once more, and got a glass of cold water ; but tlie general had gone over to Vicks- burg, Ethel was out riding, and grandma would talk of nothing but the death of Mary Brewster. Slie insisted tliat Brandon was the cause of it, so I got worried with lier, and passed on to John Selden's plantation. It was afternoon when I arrived there, and Dan had gotten back from his school in Delta. He and Aunt Dinah met me at the front gate, and after giving nie a warm welcome, escorted me in in grand state; for I would have you know that, though Aunt Dinah put too much lard in all her cooking, still her heart was all right. She had belonged to Uncle George Warrington before the war, and had worked in the field} but here, of late, had turned her attention to cooking, with such success as we have remarked. She had known me from a little boy, and always called me "Mars Na- poleon." John Selden had left on the boat early that morning, bound for New Orleans ; so Dan and I ate dinner together, he rattling on with his merry prattle all the time, while old Aunt Dinah stood beside us and handed around the dishes and kept off tiie fiies. " Slie's a fine cook, a swell cook, Mr. Crabtrie," said Dan, winking at me, and casting a comic look at old Aunt Dinah. " Siie's a boss cook, now I say, and would do to cook for Queen Victoria and all her children." The old woman loved the boy, as did we all, and took his fun in good part. Wiien Dan had finished teasing Aunt Dinah he prattled away about old .Jack, and declared that I would liave to visit him as soon as dinner was over. Then he told me of his rabbits and other pets, of his school and teacher, and when I asked him What he was studying, he said : "Writin', readin', spellin' and 'rithmetic." After dinner I had, first of all, to call upon old Fightin' Jack, for I had gotten used to paying my respects to him, as if he had been my most intimate friend. He received me witli calm dignity, as was his wont. His stall had received some additional ornaments, and it was evident that his physical con- dition had greatly improved under the boy's kind ownership, 102 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. for his libs were less prominent, and there was more meat upon his bones. I wished to show him some token of esteem and friendship, more on Dan's account than his own ; so I went close up and began patting him, but he raised his hind leg in a threatening attitude, and showed his teelh in a dubious way. I remembered what the general Iiad told me of his encounter with Grant's army, so I thought it best to desist from furtiier signs of affection. But Dan jumped up on his back and hugged him and rolled over him, and the old mule showed not the slightest sign of displeasure. He took it all in a calm, stoical, indifferent way. After we had paid our respects to old Jack, and Ihad been, given a full account of all his doings since I had seen him last ( which I refuse to record here, as I am afraid it would be of little interest to the reader) , we went around to see Dan's rabbits and other pets; and wljen he got tired of talking of these, we strolled down the bank of the Mississippi River, and took our seats in tiie shade of the willows ; and wliile the cool breeze blew in upon us over the waters, I told him stories for four long hours, till the sun went down in masses of flame far out in the west. I added many an Indian and many a panther to make them more delightful to the boy. Yet it mattered not whether it were twenty panthers, ten Indians, forty wildcats or one poor lone old catamount, he would believe them all with the same implicit faith. I say that he believed them all — he either believed them or made-believe lie did — and in either case it was always a pleasure to watch the expression on his face while I was telling them to him. His bright black eyes would grow larger and larger, the light on his face would fairly glow with joy, his breath would come faster and faster, until the last great catastrophe when the pantlier would spring down and swallow his victim whole, or the Indian would scalp his man, when the boy would cry " Oh," and draw a breath of relief, and throw his little arm around my neck and cry : "Mr. Crabtrie, I love you! I love you, Mr. Crabtrie, more than all the world 1 Now tell me another one, please, another sure-enough good one, with lots of Indians and killin' and scalpin' and that kind of thing." So off I would start and tell Iiim out of the shallowness of my vivid imagination another Indian story that would have put the greatest of dime-novelists to shame, and which would cause the boy's hair fairly to stand on end. I am afraid that I shall never get full forgiveness for all the lies I concocted to please that little boy, for the more I would lell him the more he «fanted. and the wilder I would make them the more blood- A. PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 103 thirsty lie would get. Oh, it was grand to see the light of joy play over his little face, and to hear his cries of exclamation and surprise! I have had many a great man laugh at my anec- dotes in my day; many is the time I have held my audience spellbound there at old Harvard, (I might have done such things in later life, only I was too lazy), but nothing ever gave me so much joy as the way that little Dan would listen to my stories. They would have sounded ludicrous enough to you, good madame, but to the child they held wonderlands of inter- est. Do you ever recall, dear sir, the impressions and trans- ports of early boyhood ? If so, you may know somewhat of the feelings little Dan experienced while listening to my tales. Nor was tlie joy exclusively on his side. For I must admit that I had learned to love the child a little bit more than I would be willing to acknowledge even to myself, for he be- longed to old John Selden, (just why was a mystery of God), and I knew it was dangerous to love anything that belonged to that man. But you must know, if you know aught whatso- ever, good sir, about human nature, since I loved him much, that therefore it gave me great pleasure to give him joy ; so you, together with my other Christian brethren, will forgive me if I gave him more Indians, more panthers, more wildcats and more catamounts than the Constitution of the United States or the Thirty-nine Articles allow. I did it in good faith, and hope to get forgiveness for it with my other sins. Mariali's boy, whom she kindly named Warrington, after me, fell far below the dignity of tlie name he bore ; and, to tell the truth, failed woefully to fulfill my expectations in regard to him ; for, to be more exact, he was squint-eyed and bow- legged, and liad freckles to boot ; and the short and long of it is, I could not feel any great interest in him, though I gave him, as I have before stated, on each of his birthdays, a pound of stick-candy and my blessing. As Mariah's boy had so sadly disappointed me, I had handed over to little Dan Selden my entire stock of affection, which he was in every-way worthy of, and which he returned, in the golden coin of love, an hundred- fold. He had given me so many tokens of his love that it was impossible to doubt it. Other people T suspected, but there was no mistrusting him. He loved me, as he had often told me, "with all his heart, with all his soul, arfd with all his giz- zard," and I on my side loved him after a fashion which, as I have before remarked, I would hesitate to admit even to my- self. I was getting advanced in years, I had no wife and chil- dren of my own to love, and like all mortals who are not brutes, I had to have some one to care for, so I had endowed little 104 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. Dan with all my store of affection. And all the time I knew I was doing a dangerous thing, and that 1 would pay dearly for it some day. It was a dangerous thing, simply because he belonged to John Selden to make and mould, and I knew that the day would inevitably come when the little boy's love for me would be changed into a lower and a baser love — the love of money. I had been watcliing for and dreading tliis day, for to me the little boy's love meant more than I ever hope to make you understand, and it was with a pang that I thought that John Selden was training him so that some day he would no longer love me with his whole soul, but that he would love money instead. I had seen slight symptoms of this already, and had heard repetitions, by the boy, of the father's maxims of Mammon, and they had hurt me much ; but I would manage to lead his thoughts as far away from them as possible, into richer and nobler fields of truth. As the sun was going down, old Aunt Dinah came down the river's bank to tell us supper was ready ; so we went up to that meal, and found it prepared with as much love and grease as her other meals had been. After supper I told the boy more stories, until at length I had quite exhausted both my supply and my imagination. Then I tried him on a tale about a good little boy who went to Sunday-school, but it did not meet his full approbation. Be- fore I ]jad gotten-half way through it, I became conscious that Dan had fallen asleep in my lap, so I called the old colored woman to put him to bed. Then I lit my cigar and strolled down the banks of the great river, and looked out over its wa- ters, and thought many thoughts about life and love and suffer- ing and death and of the life beyond, until, by and by, the full moon came up beyond the spires of Vicksburg, and 1 was re- minded that it was past midnight, and that I must get back to bed. Tliose were very happy days I spent with my little friend ; for during that time he was entirely my own, and I might train him and lead him into such pleasant fields of thought as I wished. I knew but too plainly that liis associations would make the boy, and that he was capable of being moulded into either a money-making machine, or into one of the noblest, sweetest souls God ever made. It had always been a mystery to me why God had placed such a jewel into John Selden's keeping, and I had almost gone so far as to pray that He would take tlie child from under such influences into purer, nobler air. I might have prayed it, but I knew too well the meaning of such a prayer, and dared not make it. God knew well enough A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 105 liow to manage his affairs without my advice, and away down in my soul I had a hope that He, in liis goodness and wisdom, would save my little Dan from the life that had been planned for him. One afternoon, when I had been with him several days, I told him he was getting old enough to think of what lie would do in life, and. asked him what he thought he would make of himself, whether a lawyer, doctor or planter. " I want to be a storekeeper," said he, promptly, in reply to my question. "I want to be a storekeeper and make lots and lots of money, for then I can have anything I want. Papa says when you have got money you can buy anything. I want to make money all the time." It cut me deeply to have him say this, but I had been ex- pecting it and was prepared for i t. " Look me straight in the eyes, my little Dan. So your papa says you can buy anything if you have money enough? Well, let us see. You remember that tiny little star we saw last night as we were sitting out on the gallery ? The one tliat you said must be lost from its mother, when I was telling you all about them ? Well, I am tired of this old weary world of ours, and I want to find a green isle of peace and rest, and I think tliat star is just such a world. Now I would like to buy it. How much do you think God would take for it ? Answer me that, my little boy. How many million dollars would He sell it for ? You remem- ber the other week, poor Mary Brewster died and left Ijer mother all heart-broken ? When she was dying there, how much money would it have taken to buy back her life ? Remember, now, you told me that money would buy anythino-, and I am taking you at your word. What is the price of an armful of sunshine ? What is the price of a shower of rain ? What does God ask for these? I want love, Dan, and I would like to buy it. I would like for all people to love me as much as you do, my boy. How much money would it take to buy such a princely treasure ? Answer me that, my little man. Over in tiie parish prison at Delta is a murderer who killed his victim the other night. How many ducats would he have to pay for a clear conscience, do you think ? Just the other day a woman over in Vicksburg left her husband and little children and ran off with a gambler. How many pounds do you suppose it would take to buy back her virtue or her peace of mind ? You remember old Vanderbilt died not long ago, and when he was dying how many millions do you suppose he "3ould have paid for new life ? He had the money, banks full 106 A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. of it, and would have paid it, but life could not be bought nor sold. No, no, my dear little friend, nothing that is good or noble was ever bought or sold for money's price ! You can't buy sunshine, you can't buy virtue, you can't buy peace, you can't buy love, nor wisdom, nor strength, nor heroism, nor aught that is holy or good. AH these great things God gives freely or not at all ! " I was putting my whole soul into what I was saying, for I felt that it was my last throw to save his soul from Mammon. As I talked, I held his little hand in mine, and as usual he was sitting on my lap, and I could see that what I was saying was making a deep impression on him. He listened in silence as I continued : " It is the duty of every man to labor, and by the sweat of his brow to earn an honest living. First of all, we siiould see that every one dependent on us, as well as ourselves, should have enough to eat and enough to wear ; and there should be a cozy little sum laid by for old age, or a rainy day; and when this is done, we should not think of money all the time, but we should improve our minds, and build up our souls so that they will be fit for the immortal life which is to come. I am afraid that your father has told you that money is everything, and the men who make money are the only powerful and great men. I hate to say it, Dan, but it is not true ; it is false — false in every sense of the word. The only great men are those who have fought for truth. The world has always for- gotten the rich men the moment they threw them in their graves. If they are remembered at all, it is only because they have been associated with some thinker. Can you tell me the name of just one single man who spent his time in making money, who lived a hundred years ago? I can't, and I have read many books, but I can give you the names of a thousand great men of thought who have been dead five hundred years. Only one man of antiquity is remembered for his wealth, and he is remembered simply as a warning to us not to be seduced by gold. His name was Midas, and all he touched was turned to gold. The world remembers only her thinkers, her poets, her seers, her statesmen and her warriors. She too often cru- cifies them, or starves them, it is true ; but, by and by, she is sure to reinstate them, and they alone are the great ones of earth — the beloved of God. The great men of the world, as a rule, have been those who liad but little money, and thought about it still less, and they have known with an overwhelming conviction that nothing that was really worth having must needs be bought with money alone. And you too, Dan, M A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 107 you ever become, in the truest sense, one of God's loved ones, must learn to admit this trutli from the very bottom of your being. England, vilio has spent much of lier life's blood in the search for wealth, has to admit to-day that her highest crown of glory is the bard that was born upon Avon ; and who, to the best of our knowledge, came into the world as a simple peasant, and spent all his life in tlie rich fields of thought. He got money for his labor, as all great men should, but that was but a secondary matter. Now, we in America would like above all " things to have a great dramatist like Shakespeare, for it is the only thing we lack to make us a great nation ; and we can never be, in the highest sense of the word, a great nation, till we have pro- duced such a man. Now the scholars and thinkers of the land would put up ten millions — and let me say they have it, too — ^to buy such a man. It would be a paying invest- ment even at that price. The price is up. How long do you think we will have to wait before we get him ? It may be till doom sday in the afternoon, though I look for bet- ter things in the coming time." I could easily see that the little boy was greatly interested in what I was saying, tliough it was evident that he could not understand it all ; so I continued : " Run there, Dan, and fetch me tiie New Testament from the centre-table. I am sorry to say that I have not read it as much as I should have done, but my mother used to read it to me when I was a little boy, just like you, Dan, and we re- member things that were read to us and told to us at that age much better than we do in after life, and that is why I am taking so much pains to tell God's truth to you to-day. I re- fer you to tlie New Testament because I know it is a book that your father reads mucii, and from which he pretends to get his views of life. Now, in all the sayings of the Lord while He was upon our earth, you cannot find one tliat encour- ages men in spending all their time in making and thinking about money, while you can find scores that condemn sucii conduct in the strongest terms. The only wealth that God recognizes at all is the wealth of love and wisdom, and He offers no inducement to men to spend their lives in making money, but warns them repeatedly of the terrible consequences of such a life. And, Dan, to end now, for I am afraid I shall tire you, if you want to be one of God's loved ones you must fight for Love and Truth, must labor for them day after day and year after year, and leave money-making alone only so far as to secure enough to meet your ordinary obligations. I doubt 108 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. many things, but this is one truth of God I never doubt : If a man wishes to kill his soul, he can do it quicker trying to miike money than in any other way." "When I closed he looked up into my face with such a strange, puzzled look ! He saw life in a different way from what he had ever looked at it before. I knew tlien, come what may, that what I had told him that day as lie sat there in my lap, would never pass entirely from his mind. It would be good seed planted (here, which in God's own time, would spring forth into trees tKat would bear good fruit. So, with the puzzled look on his face, he looked up at me, and throwing his arms around m.y neck, said : " It all sounds so strange and different from wliat papa tells me, but I think what you tell me may be so! For I love you, Mr. Crabtrie, and everything you say sounds nice. But I am tired now of tiiat kind of talk, please tell me about the panther killin' that man there at the Mounds just after the A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 109 CHAPTER XVI. "When John Selden went to New Orleans, he left word that his riding horse was to be placed . at my disposal ; so in the forenoon while Dan was at Delta at school, where his father had made arrangements to have him taught a few hours in the morning during the summer, I would ride around the countiy and amuse myself as best I could. I had been particular in these excursions to avoid any meeting with Jim Longley or his wife, who lived, as I have before stated, in a negro cabin on the border of John Selden's plantation. I had known them both when they were young people, when Jim had the largest income of any young man in this section, when his present wife was a young lady and the acknowledged belle of tiie neighborhood, and when they bad both rather looked down upon me, in spite of the fact tliat my family was every whit as good as their's, and my education infinitely better. Now that their condition in life had been so sadly changed, I thought it would be awkward to all three of us to meet ; so in passing their cabin, I would whip my horse up into galloping speed, in order to avoid a meeting with them. But one day, as I was passing by, I saw Jim standing, or ratlier leaning, (he did not have the energy now to stand), against the rail fence that surrounded his yard ; and as he saw me coming, he advanced into the middle of the road and stopped me. There was nothing for it but to stand still and to listen to what he had to say. " You are too proud to speak to your old friends, now that they are poor and live in a negro cabin ; but I've seen the day, sir, when you were only too glad to come to my house and stay there. But you are just like the rest of the world ; when a man gets down you kick him and turn your back on him, and go to some rich man's house, where they have wine and plenty to eat. You ain't no worse than the rest of 'em, and I won't be too hard on you. So you have taken up at old John Sel- den's house, and are eating his rations ? Well, you are welcome to them, I am sure, for I would starve before I would eat a mouthful of them. , You must be getting mighty bad off, Crabtrie, when you begin to loaf on such a man as that ! He has cheated us out of all our property now but fifty acres, and it won't be long before he will get that ; and then I will take mv six-shooter, which I keen in the house yonder — I am sav. 110 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. ing it just for that purpose, I have sold everything else — and I shall kill John Selden and then shoot myself. He may ruin us, but let me tell you, he will get paid full pi-ice for all iiis trouble." The man's eyes were burning with unusual bright- ness, and I could see that he was under the influence of tlie accursed drug. "Well, Jim," answered I, " as you will talk to me about the matter, let me say to you plainly that I think you are putting it much too strongly, and that as greatly as I dislike old John Selden, I must admit that you yourself are more to blame for your present condition than he. Had you had the will-power in the beginning, John Selden nor any other man could have placed you in your present situation. He did not start you at your accursed habit, for you were at it when lie came. He simply took advantage of it after you had begun. I am not taking up for old John Selden in the least, but it would be well for you to impress it on your mind that you yourself are the main agent in your ruin, and that John Selden was only an auxiliary. He only made capital of it, and it would be well for your earthly, as well as eternal, welfare, for you to let God award such vengeance as may be required in your case. And above all things, my friend, don't fail to recognize that you are tlie main criminal, as far as your ruin is concerned, after all." He scratched his head and for a moment did not reply. Then he said : " I suppose I am to blame some, most men are in their own ruin, but that man Selden is as mean a man as over lived on this earth. He is all the time praying, and quoting passages from the Bible, and talking of the glory of God, and making believe that he is a saint, and at the same time thinking of nothing but making money by every means both foul and fair. He hasn't got a neighbor but what he has swindled in every way, and he'd do anything to make a dollar." " Tfiei-e IS much truth in vphat you say, Jim, and to tell the truth, J don't like old Selden over-much, myself; but the sins you mention are his own sins, and you may rely on it, that God will punish them with just punishment -without your in- terference. I would advise you strongly not to wish to take vengeance yourself for any wrong that John Selden may have (lone you, but to leave tlie matter entirely in God's hands, who in His own good time, will mete out full justice between you and him, in a manner which you yourself could never accom- plish." " I will think of what you say, Crabtrie," said he, " for it seems to have sense in it. I will think of it, and it may ^hfing^ my actions ; for I wigh you to know, sir, as poor and A PRINCE OK GOOD FELLOWS. Ill as corrupt as you find me, that I would not willingly do any- thing that was dishonorable or wicked. I would sooner inflict an injustice on myself than do a wrong to anotlier. I never did a human being an intentional wrong — nobody but myself and my poor wife yonder — God knows I shall have enough lo answer for there ! " " How is your wife ? " asked I, not knowing what else to say. " She's in very poor health now and can't last long. You know she was always delicate and used to every luxury, and the hardships she has to bear are killing her. She is failing fast, and will be gone before many months. It will be better for her, no doubt, when she is dead. That man yonder is the cause of it all. We would have plenty to-day had he dealt justly by us." He could not keep his mind off the injustice that John Sel- den had inflicted on him. It was preying on him night and day, and I was afraid might result in some i-asli act ; so in the hope of causing him to look at it in a different light, I said : " Jim Longley, John Selden is not the cause of your wife's distress, nor your present condition. I can say this all the more safely because I dislike the man, and would not say any good about him that was not strictly true. You, yourself, are the cause of the present sad state of affairs, and had you the will-power, might even now, in spite of Selden, better your condition in life." We talked on about other things for awhile, and when I started to leave he stopped me and inquired : " Have you got a dollar or two about you that you could lend me to buy my wife some dainties with ? The poor thing is sick, and lacks every comfort of life." I knew well enough that the man was lying about what he wished to do with the money. He wanted it to buy morphine with. "Jim," said I, speaking, be it said to my honor, the whole truth, " I have just half a dollar with me. Tiie general lent it to me nearly a month ago. 'Tis all I have in this world, and T don't know for certain when or where I shall get an- other. I hate to part with it, even to you, my friend, for I know not what moment my lady friends may call upon me for a contribution for the purpose of converting the heathen. I never go in debt. My friends furnish all my wants, and fifty cents lasts me a long time. I have not had a good look at a dollar bill in six months, therefore I could not lend you one. I know you would not take my last fifty cents from me, and thrQ\y me penjijlegs upon » cold-hearted world, Inwhatdis- 112 . A FRINGE OF GOOD FELLOWS. grace and consternation would I be placed the very first time the ladies came around with the contribution box ! " He smiled a faint, sickly smile. He failed to take my fifty cents, not out of any consideration for my feelings, nor the gen- eral welfare of the heathen, but simply because I had kept that piece of fractional currency in the background during our conversation, and did not let him get his hands upon it. As I rode away I began moralizmg upon tlie chunces of lifi'. and tliought how Dame Fortune, with her wonderful wh^el, cast some men into the pits of despair, while others sle ele- vated as high as the sky ; and with a grateful heart I thankcil the fair lady that she had left me just as she found me, wifli enough to eat, enougli to wear, and with fifty cents in my pocket. Then I began to philosophize how it was that T, who had but fifty cents in my pocket, could manage to keep my boots always shiny, my hair constantly neatly combed, my clothes in tolerable condition, and my stomach generally full; while here was Jim Longley, who had a thousand miles the start of me, who had won the finest girl in the parish, who inherited one of the largest fortunes in the State, and had none of the bless- ings of which I could boast. Jim and I were equally lazy, which is saying a vast deal about either of us, yet I was re- ceived at every home with a waim welcome, and invariably made much of as long as I stayed, provided I did not stay too long ; wliile Jim — why, the poor fellow was living, and would die in disgrace. My friends, I can give you the answer to it all : There is nothing like keeping your head high and your boots well shined, even if you have only fifty cents in your pocket ; it is well, also, to leave all bad habits alone, and to pay as you go. If people give you tilings, well and good. Take them, but never steal them, and never go in debt for them ; if you do, you will be sorjy for it. And now, after this friendly piece of advice on my part — which I am sure you will follow — let me say that wlien I told Jim Longley tliat I never went in debt, I was giving the rule of my life ; to which, as to all other rules, there were a few exceptions ; for tlie reader may remember the day that I first met Brandon, that I had two drinks charged to my account at the store where we drank 'em. But I paid the account shortly after, with fifty cents I borrowed of General Lane. But how about General Lane ? you ask. Did I not go in debt to him ? I wish, ma- dame, you would not inquire so minutely into private affairs. Well, I had known the general thirty years, and when I bor- rowed from him it was not like going in debt — neither be nQr 4 «ver expected that I should pay it back a^aio. A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 118 When I readied the house, I met Dan just returning from his school in Delta; so we went in together, and found dinner waiting for us, and as our rides had given both of us a good appetite, we relished that meal in spite of all the greasy cook- ing. After dinner there was more story-telling, more reading from story-books, and when tiie cool of the afternoon came on we both rode over the plantation, and talked with many of the old darkies as they stopped a moment from their work. Next morning I rode down to Delta with Dan with the in- tention of spending the forenoon with Howard Sayer, who, I had heard, had a big case for trial that day in court, and I was anxious to hear him plead it. When I reached Delta, I found liim in his office surrounded by law books and briefs. Still, he found time to give me a hearty welcome. "Why, Crab., I have not seen you for ever so long ! Glad to see you, old boy ! You are just in time to hear my big case this morning. I am chock full of it now, and can scarcely hold in. But take a seat, my man. You are looking well." " Never felt better and had less in my life, old fellow," said I, taking the proffered chair. " I heard of that big case of yours, and came down on purpose to hear you plead it. How long will it be before court opens ? " He gave me the hour, and as it was still some time before the opening, I remained in his office and chatted away about matters of mutual interest. He told me that he was doing well in his practice, clearing several thousand a year, and that his income was on the increase. " I thought at one time," said he, " of settling in a large city ; but one has to wait so long for a stiirt there, and may never get one in the end, as there are so many lawyers in the cities now. But here I step- ped right into a good practice, and it was well for me that I did, for I needed the money." So after this fashion we talked till the court opened, and I went over and sat in that dismal old structure, listening for three long hours. The reader has not the slightest interest in the case, so I shall not stop to describe it to him, (or lier, if it is you, madame), but simply say that Howard Sayer did his part in a noble fashion, to the joy and pleasure of all his friends. Old Judge Sayer was sitting there, and heard it all ; and when the trial was over, and the spectators were shaking hands with Howard and congratulating him, I saw tears come into the old judge's eyes. He had not been so proud and happy in many a long year. And then, when the case was over, and I had conofratulated Howard on his success, I found Dan and we rode home together, o 114 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XVII. Next day was Saturday, and John Selden was expected back on the boat early in the forenoon. Dan was on the look- out for him, and wondering what his father would bring him from the great city. I am glad to say this much in John Sei- dell's favor, that he was kind to his little boy, and when he went away always brought him some toy or plaything ; true, tliey were cheap and common, but Dan was at that age when almost anything pleased him, and when a ten-cent toy gave him more pleasure than many a costly gift gives us older people. He did not ask for my stories that morning, but went down to the landing soon after breakfast to wait for the boat. I, too, strolled down the river's bank, under the shade of the willows, and took my seat there and began to reflect. Soon I must leave John Selden's and put up somewhere else. I was not entirely at a loss where to go, for I knew a dozen places where I niio-ht put up for a week, where tiie beds were clean and the society good; but it appeared to me, here of late, that my friends had not been so urgent in their invitations to me to visit tliem. I began strongly to believe that it were best to have a fixed local habitation, and to regret that I had been so negli- gent of my welfare as to allow myself to drift into middle life without providing a home to live in and a wife to take care of me. It was mainly the condition of my stomach that was making me have these reflections, for Aunt Dinah's greasy cooking had given me the dyspepsia ; and, to tell the truth, had resulted in a case of the blues, and this morning I was looking at life upon the dark side. I did not take time to consider that my melancholy would all pass away, and better thoughts take its place, just so soon as I could have better food to eat. By and by, I saw the great boat come puffing up the river, and stop at the landing. I saw John Selden get off with his arms full of bundles, and Dan rush forward to meet him. Then they both passed up the bank together to the house, and I was left for some time to my miserable reflections. It is wonder- ful how many absurd and morbid thoughts a good case of dys- pepsia will make a man have ! I doubt if there is another dis- ease in the world that can make one feel quite so miserable. I began to think that all the world was plotting against me, and I suspected my best friends of the most villainous plans against A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 115 my welfare. Here was the little boy whom I loved so much, and wlio pretended to love me so greatly in return — why, he had run away from me, and deserted me for tiie sake of a handful of trifling toys, all of wliich would not cost forty cents. These ai'e a few things that my dyspeptic thoughts were telling me this morning, and I was fool enough to believe them. I must have remained there several hours indulging in these fancies, when hearing a noise above me on the bank, I looked up and saw Dan running toward me. He had his hands full of cheap toys, and as he came up to me he shook them in my face, and cried : " See here, Mr. Crabtrie, what papa has brought me ! I don't care for your old storie.s now. You say money can't buy anything that is good — why, it bought all these, and lots of other things papa has got up to the house yonder. And papa says you are a lazy old thing who are no account, and don't know how to make money — and I believe he is right." Had I been in healthy spirits, or had I taken a few moments to reflect, I might have known that the boy was in one of his teasing moods ; that he meant notliing but fun by his rallying tone ; th£tt, after ail, it was love that he was giving to me. But I did not take time to think. I took his words in a literal sense, and they cut me to the quick ; and, being of a jealous turn, I must needs cut the little fellow back again. "So your papa says I am a trifling old thing, does he? and you believe him ? Well, I thought it would come to this some day. I thought you would find out that I did not spend my life in cheating people and in making money, and I knew that when you found it out you would no longer love me. All right, sir, I shall go away and never come back to see you any more, and never tell you any more stories as long as you live. If you can't love anyone who has not money, j'ou can't love me ; and the sooner we forget each other, Dan, the better for us both. I shall go ofl*and find some other little boy who willlovp me just for myself. You can't love anything but money. It was born in your blood, and I don't want your love. You may throw it into the Mississippi Eiver yonder, or give it to some one else for aught I care. I am never coming back to see you any more." I could see the tears coming into his eyes, and his little lips quivering as if he wished to say something, but he answered me. naught. Slowly he turned, slowly he walked back up the river's bank. Had he thrown his arms around my neck, and had his cry out there, as had been his custom, it would have been sU wejl find good, find we wpvild have Ijeep friends once 116 A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. more. But I had wounded the little fellow's pride, as well as broken his heart ; and instead of coming to me, he went back to the stable, and throwing his arms around old Fightin' Jack's neck, had his cry out there. And sobbing as if his little heart would break, he poured out his troubles into old Jack's ear. " I did not say it in earnest," sobbed he. " I was only fun- nin', Old Jack. I didn't mean to hurt his feelin's, no I didn't. For I love him, love him, love him even more than I do you, old mule. But he said I might take my love and throw it into the river yonder — that he didn't want it. He said he never was comin' back to see me — never any more. And I wish I was dead, indeed I do ! " And as he was hugging old Jack, and telling him of his grief, the tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he was sobbing as if his little heart, would break. Had I known of this scene in the stable, I most assuredly would not have left Selden's house in the frame of mind I did, but must have come down upon my knees and begged the little fellow's pardon ; but it was long months afterwards, before I knew aught of it. So I went up to the house and asked Mr. Selden to send me out to Dr. Brandon's at the Mounds, and when his spring-wagon was ready, I thanked liim for his liospitality, and took my leave witli a sad heart and without seeing Dan. I had made up my mind that the time had come to crush my af- fection for the little fellow. I was conscious of the fact tliatit would well-nigh kill me, but I knew I could do it. It was bet- ter that than to see his love turned into greed of gold. When I reached the Mounds, I found John Brandon in high spirits. His despondency of five days ago had entirely passed away, and left him in his usual happy mood. When tlie spring- wagon drove up to his gate, he rushed out to greet me, and fairly hugged me, just so soon as lie got me out of the wagon. " Where in the world Jiave you been, old boy, that I have not seen anything of you in the last few days? Come right in here and take a seat, for I have news to tell you, news tliat will make you smile. By the by, old fellow, what are you looking so down in the mouth about? You look as if you had lost your best friend. Ah! you have been out at old Selden's, have you, eating his greasy grub ? No wonder you are looking sad ! I always look sad myself when I have to eat there. It is a mystery to me, Crabtrie, why you, who love good eating so well, will put up with John Selden for almost a week, and eat Auni Dinah's abominable cooking, wlien you can get such good living at either General Lane's or Major Rankin's. But cheer up, my man, and don't, look so glum, it mars the beauty pf your countenance. Here, take one pf these cigars, I have A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 117 just gotten them from Vicksburg, and you will find them very fine." His cheerful spirits did me a world of good, and served to divert my thoughts into more pleasant channels. I took a seat near the window, lit my cigar, and began to smoke. "Yes, Brandon, I am feeling mighty bad, my friend, and there is no use denying it ; and I have come to you to cheer me np, for I know that if any man in the world can do it, tliat man is yourself. 1 am in lots of trouble about — well, I won't bother you with the particulars, my friend, but only ask that you liven me up with your high spirits. I wish you would let me stay with you several days, till I become myself again." " Never was more glad to have anybody in my life, my dear boy ! I have a double bed yonder, which is big enough for both of us, and you can eat your meals with me up at my boarding-house yonder on the mound. My landlady is a saintly old soul, as you know, and you just can't keep from loving her from the bottom of your heart. I will promise you, that if you will spend a week with me, you will forget all your sorrow, be it what it may, and I shall turn you out upon the world quite a new man." After we had talked on after this fashion for a while, I asked him to tell me the news of which he had spoken upon my ar- rival. A bright, sparkling light came into bis eyes, the me- phistophelian smile spread over his lips, and his whole face was alive with fun as lie said : " Well, Crab., old boy, I have gone and done it. You warned me of it, you told me I was coming to it, and I knew I was drifting that way myself, but I just could not help it. I am engaged to every one of them Rankin girls now, all three of 'em, or my name is not Brandon. I thought I would be satisfied, and stop when I courted Miss Jenny that day out at Cypress Bayou ; but no! I must court Miss Maud also, and tell her how much I loved her. The old toper, when he drinks all but one drink in the bottle, can't stop there — he must have the last drop. I have got the love-making mania, my lioy, and I have seen the time when tliere were no girls in the country, when I would make love to the pictures of the pi'etty girls in the fashion magazines. I don't mean 'em any harm, Crab., not the slightest. I would marry them all if I could. But as the law does not allow that, well, I just can't keep from telling 'em all that I love 'em, and that I would die for them at any moment — and I believe I would. " Well, you know how I became engaged to Misses Fanny and Jenny Bankin, so there is no use of my telling that over 118 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. to you, so I shall confine myself to my courtship with Miss Maud, which is of more recent date. I stopped at Mrs. Brewster's the other day, and I got a bouquet of those beauti- ful flowers they call 'petutcias,' and carried them on down to Major Rankin's and presented them to Miss Maud. Only that young lady and her mother were at home that day, for the father and two sisters had gone to Talkilah to spend a day or two with some friends. Mrs. Eankin and Miss Maud received me most cordially, and the young lady went stiaightway into ecstasy over the flowers, and declared that she had never seen anything so beautiful. So we talked for some time, and wjien I got up to leave Mrs. Rankin told me that they were all alone, and that it would be a favor to them if I would spend the night at their house. You know it always delights me to do the ladies favors, so I accepted the invitation without the slightest hesitancy. So, by and by, as dusk came on, Mi-s Rankin went off to see about supper, and Miss Maud sang a sentimental song all about loving and dying and that sort of thing, and then she sang another one just like it, and then I knew that I was gone. As she sat there at the piano warbling away like a bird, her cheeks looking like peaches and her eyes sparkling like the stars, I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my existence, and I did not see how I could possibly pass through life without her ; so right there I told her how much I loved her, and swore that if she did not have me I would drown myself in the Mississippi River the very first time I passed that way. She said that it would be too great a pity to see so fine a fellow perish in so ignoble a fashion, and though she had never dreamed of such a thing, still, to divert such a sad ca- tastrophe, she would endow me with her life and love. Things were at this point wlien Mrs. Rankin came in and invited us out to supper, and it quite passed from my mind to warn Miss Maud to keep the matter secret. Well, I numbered her Number — wait a minute. Crab., and let me look in my book to see what the number is, and if it is set down all right. Oho ! by great Jove, old boy, J forgot to number her — I forgot to write down even the date fixed for the wedding-day ! I am getting absent-minded here lately. Never failed to do such a thing before. I mtist use system in this thing, or I will get it all so hopelessly mixed that there will be no hope of getting it straight again. " Well, old man Rankin and tiie other two girls came home next day, and Maud was so full of her engagement that she could not hold in, .so she told both of heir sisters about it. They said that it could not be so, as I was engaged to them. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 119 Then the three girls got together, and had a conference, at which time and place the cat got out of the bag, and the full proceed- ing became clear to them. There was a fracas that it was lively to see. Of course they went to their father with it, and the old man was for coming up at once and cowhiding me first and shooting me afterwards ; but the women folks managed to cool him down, and Mrs. Rankin got word to me of the state of affairs and warned me not come down for some time to come. The old gentleman swears that he will kill me if ever I pass his house ; so when I visit a family below him, I always ha,ve to cross the bayou before I come to his house, and cross back again just below. It is pretty easy work now that the water is low, but when the fall rains come and the bayou gets high, I don't know what I am to do about it. I say. Crab., you have known the old man a long time, and you have a good deal of influence over him. Suppose you ride down this afternoon and try to pacify him. Tell him that I did not mean the slightest harm, and that I am willing to apologize, and will marry all three of his girls at any moment he may desire. Surely, that is enough to satisfy his anger to the full." His jolly, bantering tone put me in good spirits at once, and it was arranged that I should go down in the cool of the after- noon and try to pacify, as best I could, the ferocious old gentle- man and his three fair daughters. So about five o'clock I rode down upon the doctor's horse to Major Rankin's house, which was only about a mile and a half from the Mounds ; and when I got there, I found that gentle- man out on the front gallery in his shirt-sleeves, smoking. He offered me a cigar and a chair, both of which I accepted ; and after talking a few minutes of the weather and crops, I entered upon the matter which had brought me to his house. It was a very delicate topic, and I felt my way carefully along for fear I might involve myself instead of advancing Brandon's interests. 1 told the major that I had heard that there had been a little unpleasantness existing between him and our new doctor, and that I had come down to plead Brandon's cause, and try to straighten things up again. " So that's your business is it, Crabtrie ? Well, let me tell you right now, you are throwing your time away, and will do Brandon no earthly good. He is the grandest rascal unhung, and if he ever passes this way I'll kill him, or my name is not Rankin. Why, he's been courting all tliree of my girls, and promising to marry 'em, and it's a h of a racket he has stirred up here amongst us." 120 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. " Oh, Major, you should not be too severe upon him ! " pleaded I. " Remember he is young yet, and did not mean anything serious by it. It is the custom in society for young people to engage themselves novf just for mere fun, and Bi-an- diin did not expect your girls to take him in earnest. He just Ticant it as a little pleasantness, and intended it all in fun." " Intended it all in fun, did he, the rascal ? " cried the major the wildest tone. " I'll teach him to be funning with my jils ! Why, sir, the Rankin family is a respectable one, audi n ;int vou to understand that wlien a young man promises to marry one "f my girls, there is no fun about it, but all solid business. And if it was only one he had promised to marry, I would take my six-shooter, and I would carry them botii down to Dnlta and have them married before a justice of the peace. I'll have you understand, sir, that I won't stand any funning ! But tlie rascal has engaged himself to all three of 'em, and the law won't allow him to marry them all ; otherwise, I would make him do it — by Gad, sir, I would make him do it! " "He offered," said I, in meek tones, "to do anything to make amends in tlie matter. He went so far as to say he would marry all three of them any day you would appoint." "He did, did he? He not only courted all tlireeof my girls and promised to marry 'em, but is now making fun of us to boot. Just say to liim, if you please, that the next time I meet him I shall cowhide him first and shoot him afterwards. Will you be so good as to tell him that ? It would not have been so bad, but it has gotten all over the parish now, and all the neighbors are laughing at us. Why, Jenny and Fanny have spent ever so much money, unknown to me, in buying clothes and finery. And he calls that fun, does he? I am glad the thing was discovered before Maud started at the same business, or they would have broken me getting ready to marry that d d doctor." I beg my lady readers to remember that the bad word in the foregoing passage was used by Rankin, and that I am in no way responsible for it ; indeed, I was so considerate as to abbreviate it, so it would not sliock your sensitive ear. I could see that the old major was too much infuriated to be jiacified by anything tliat 1 might say, so I changed the sub- ject of conversation to some common-place affairs, and soon ex- cused myself, passing into the parlor, where I found tlie ladies. In dealing witli them I did not have so difficult a task. Mrs. Rankin, I was glad to see, did not have any ill-feeling toward Brandon. " Young people will be young people," said she, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 121 "and I have heard of such things before in my day. There is no eartlily use in the major carrying on in such a fashion." The young ladies were for compromising the affair by all drawing straws, and the one who got the longest straw should have the doctor. I ate supper with them, and soon after that meal rode back to Brandon's. " 'What luck, my man ? " cried he, coming to the gate to meet me. " Very poor luck, indeed, Doc," said I, in reply. " Eankiii is as mad as a wasp, and swears that he will have revenge the first time he meets you. He is furious about you courting all his girls, and I could not pacify him in the least. But he will cool down in time, and then all will be right again. I don't think you will have to cross the bayou every time you pass his house after the fall rains begin. If you do you can buy a dug- out, and take a boy along to paddle you across ; so don't let it disturb you, my friend." " How about the women folks ? " asked Brandon, " are they mad too?" " The old lady is not mad at all — in fact, is rather taking your part, and from this fact I judge that things will come around all right after a while, as she usually has her way in the end. The young ladies did not appear to be grieving over it much. They said, very wisely, too, that as many of the wed- ding things had been bought, and as you could not many them all, that they would di-aw straws for you, and the one who got the longest straw would marry you. They wanted me to hold the straws, but I declined." Brandon broke forth into a loud, meiTy laugh, and went to the window and threw the blinds open. He lit a cigar and offered me one. Night had come on, and with it, a pleasant gulf breeze had sprung up, and the heat of the day had passed away. " Some day," said he, " I intend to quit all my foolishness, and find a nice, sweet little wife, and settle down in life. There is nothing better or holier in the whole world." Later on in the night we talked over Mary Brewster's death, and the doctor told me that he knew that Grandma Gray thought that he was the cause of it, and that that fact had greatly worried him. " If I had been dying," said he, " in the place of little Mary, I would have done just as I did. If it had been my own mother or child, I would not have changed my treatment in the least. I am sure that it was the right thing, and that I should have been a brute had I done other- 122 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. wise. But it worries me to know that another should even think that I was guilty there." " Don't let that worry you in the least, Doc," said I, " we all know that you acted right. Mrs. Brewster has only the kindest feelings toward you ; so don't mind what grandma thinks, but let your conscience rest easy in regard to the matter." We talked on for an hour or so longer, and then went to bed. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 123 CHAPTER XVIII. I SPENT a week with Brandon, listening to his merry talk and enjoying his society, at the end of which time I felt quite rejuvenated and became my old self again. I am not going to ask the reader to follow me from house to house in my wander- ings from this time on. I have carried you around with me up to this date, so that you might get well acquainted with all my characters ; but now that you know them well, you need not follow N. Warrington Crabtrie any further. Where I went to after I left Dr. Brandon's, is a matter of little concern to any- one. But there is one thing you may rest assured of, and that is, if there was any good eating going on anywhere in Madison Parish, I was getting my share of it. I was first here and then there, bearing the news from neighborhood to neighbor- hood, and constantly reading the almanacs so as to add to my stock of anecdotes. You will remember that the last date given in this story was that of the 15th of July, the date of little Dan's letter to me ; and since two weeks have passed since then, it is now getting on toward the first of August of the same year ; which, you know, if you know anything of Southern history, was the beginning of a time of death and sorrow — the Yellow Fever of 1878. I shall not attempt any historical exactness in my account of this great plague that passed over us, but record it simply as it now remains in my memory, for we are interested in it only so far as it bears upon our story. The fever broke out in New Orleans early in the summer, and from the first was of a severe type. They managed to confine it to tliat city for a month or two, but on the third of August the steamer Porter passed up the river, and scattered it far and wide. She put off a case or two in Vicksburg, which were carried to the Charity Hospital ; and from this centre there spread forth a plague which was destined to enter many a household, and leave death and sorrow widespread in its track. Men said that it was the black plague come again, it raged with such unrelenting fury. It soon broke out in the city of Vicksburg, and for four long months slew young and old. white and black. If you read the papers at that time, good reader, you must remember much of the terrible accounts that were given to the world of this scourge, and there is no 124 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. need of my Iiarrowing up your feelings by repeating them here. It swept tlie city like fire. All trains were stopped and the mails discontinued, and for four months we were shut out from the great world. Soon communication from point to point was discontinued, but not in time to keep the fever from spreading through all this section. You will remember that Vicksburg is situated just across the river from the scene of our story, so you will readily see that this outbreak of the scourge at that point must have had seri- ous bearing upon the welfare of the characters in our narrative. It did not reach Delta for a month or so after it started in Vicksburg. It skipped over the intermediate country and passed to Delhi, where it raged with unabated fury till it wore itself out. When it became known with what terror it was devastating Vicksburg, people in the surrounding country became panic- stricken, and most of those who were able, got away as best tliey could. But soon the quarantines were established, and we were all shut in in this land of deatli. General Lane arranged, at the very outbreak, to take his family to Virginia, and got off among the first. But when he tried to get grandma to go with him, the old lady refused point-blank. " I am gettin' old now, Gineral," said she, " and can't live much longer anyway. So I am goin' to stay right here and 'tend to my turkeys and other duties through it all. I'm skeered and I don't care who knows it. I am more afeard of that fever than anything in the world, but I ain't goin' to run. I am shakin' now in my knees and in my elbow-jints and away down in my toe-nails, but I'm goin' to stay right here ; and if any of my friends get sick, I am goin' to nurse 'em, so help me God ! I can't die but once, and if I ketch that fever it will soon be over with." The general offered many inducements to the old lady to go, for he had a warm affection for her, and a deep sense of grati- tude toward her for all the benefits she had done his family, but his inducements failed to have the desired effect. " You go on, Gineral," said she, " and take Ethel with you, and leave me here. It is right that you should go, for every- body knows that you are brave, and would die in a minute to fulfill your duty, and it is nothing but right that you should save your life for Ethel's sake. But it is different with me, I ain't got nobody dependent on me. I am a lone old woman, without chillun', and if I were to die I would not be missed. Some folks said when the fever was here last that I was a cow- ard and skeered of it. They was right when they said I was A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 125 skeered, for I was ; but I am goin' to stay this time, and show 'em all that I am not a coward, even if I am skeered." There was no use. The old woman had made up her mind, and the general had known her too long to try to make her change it. " We must go without her, Ethel," said he. " I cannot afford to run any chance of losing you, my treasure ! If I were alone I would not go. I hate to leave grandma, but it is tlie only thing that is to be done. When the old lady sets her head one way, not all the king's horses could pull it t'other way." The morning of the day that the general was getting ready to go to Virginia, Howard Sayer rode out from Delta, and spent the forenoon with him. The old man was much surprised to hear Howard say that he had made up his mind to stay in the parish through the fever and take his chances. The gen- eral used every endeavor to make him leave. He referred to the fact that his old father was dependent on him, and that he was too young and had too bright a future before him to risk his life against so great odds. Howard answered liim firmly, that he had made his home among the people of Delta, that they had done much to assist him when he was getting a start, and that he did not intend to desert them now that their hour of danger had come. The general's persuasion, as well as that of his other friends, did not change Howard Sayer from his first resolve ; so the general and Ethel left early in August for Virginia, leaving grandma and Howard behind. The next day the Rankin family left for the North, where they remained till the fever was over. And I, the immortal N. Warrington Crab- trie ! what did , I do ? Why, there was only one man in the parish who would lend me enough to get away on, and that was General Lane, and he unluckily left just the day before I call- ed at his house for that purpose. So I stayed and braved the dangers of the plague. Let me not be too hard upon myself, as lazy and as no account as I may appear to you. I did some noble work, during that time of danger — work, indeed, from which many a better man had run. When 1 called at the general's, not knowing of his depart- ure, and hoping to borrow enough money to get to Virginia, I found grandma rather shaky in the joints, but determined to do her full duty, come what might. There was no white per- son, beside herself and the overseer, on the plantation, so she liad little trouble in persuading me to move out and stay till the fever should be over and the general return once more. Puring all this tiipe of furor I kept a close eye on Brandon to 126 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. see Low he would take the danger. He showed not the slightest signs of fear, and, from the first, his only desire seemed to be to get where the disease raged the hottest. When it was at its worst in Vicksburg, and before it reached Delta, he would go down the bank of the river, and look longingly- over toward that city, as if he would like to be there lighting the deadly enemy. Several times he telegraphed to the plij'si- cians in Vicksburg, asking them to let him come over and aid in nursing tiie sick. They returned him the same answer eacli time : " Stay where you are. We have enough sick to nurse. You would be but adding fuel to the flames." So he would return to liis office, heart-broken because he could not be of service in relieving the pain that was thick around him. Later on the fever broke out in Delta. I do not rememljer the exact date now — it is of little importance, or I would look it up and give it here. As I now remember, it was some time in September or October. The neighbors near the Mounds warned Brandon that if he went to Delta to help nurse the sick he sliould never return to tlie Mounds again. In fact, they went so far as to tlireaten to kill him if he did. Brandon went to Delta and returned at his pleasure, and when they came to kill him he laughed at them, so they decided it were best not to kill such a man. Every threat was made against him by those who were afraid of the fever, but they had not the slightest effect upon him. He would go wherever the plague was raging the hottest, and come back whenever he pleased. He feared no man — not even the fever — there was notiiing in all the world that he was afraid of. He would laugh death, itself, in the face. The fever had now reached its height, but had not yet spread into the country. People were dying in Vicksburg by the score. The death rate had never been known so high before. Half of Delta had it, and her best men were dying like so many sheep. The fever had no mercy — no pity whatsoever. It slew black and white, young and old, alike. In former epidemics, negroes and very young children seldom had it, but now they all died alike. In one family of thirteen, not far from Vicksburg, not one survived. And our brave young doc- tor was always to be found where the fire was the hottest, where death raged the most. For many weeks the fever did not get out our way. It was confined to the cities and towns. Ofttimes I would meet Bran- don coming from Delta, and standing off some distance from him, would have a talk with him. He was undaunted, brave, even cbeerfuj, "If we Jjaye to die," he wQuld sajr, " it is 1 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 127 to die bravely, heroically. A coward is the most contemptible thing in all the world ! " One day about the middle of October the news reached grandma and I that Jim Longley's wife had been stricken down with the fever. Brandon had sent up to the house for some things that the poor woman needed, and his messenger gave us the news. Tlie woman had gotten out of morphine, and rather than bear the agonies of doing without it, had passed into Delta to get herself a supply, and while there had caught the fever. Tiie doctor said in his note that her constitution was so weak that it was next to impossible for her to survive the disease. He did not say a word about grandma or me coming to nurse, and when I read the note to the old lady I saw lier compress her lips tightly together, as if trying to force her will to some strong act. " So it has reached us at last! " said she. " God be merciful to us 1 " This is all she said, but I saw her go straightway into her room, where she remained about ten minutes, after which time she came out again, bring- ing with her her satchel and such other appliances as she always carried when visiting the sick. " I won't be back for dinner," said she. " I may not be back till morning. Take care of things as well as you can, and please see that my turkeys are put up in their coops to- night, so the minks can't catch 'em." " Where are you going. Grandma?" said I. "Can't I go with you ?" " I am a-goin* to my duty, as I said I would do. You had better stay here. If we need you, we'll send for you." So with a resolute step she passed down the front walk and out the gate, and marched up the big road. She was going to Jim Longley's cabin, and, maybe, to death. Yet she did not falter, she went straight forward. I watched her till I saw her pass within the door of that lonely abode. 128 A 1»EINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XIX. Just before the war, when our people were rolling in lux- ury, Miss Lizzie Fontain had been the belle of this section, and enjoyed more beaux and compliments than any other girl in our parish. When I first came home from Harvard, just before the war, crowned with academic honors, I had quite a fancy for her ; and might have pressed nay suit, but I soon found out that it was money and not brains she wanted. So I gave way to Jim Longley, who had an abundance of the for- mer and but a small proportion of the latter, and Jim married her amid the congratulations of all our population. Their wedding was the grandest affair ever known in Madison Par- ish, and is remembered even to this day on account of its ele- gance and extravagance. Everything was sent up fi'om New Orleans, and must have cost poor Jim many tliousand dollars. But the contrast between the way she was ending her mar- ried life and the way she began it was strongly marked, and I pitied the poor soul from the bottom of my heart. They lived fast before the war came on, and, of course, had mortgaged their property to a large extent. At the close of the war Jim found himself with his thousand negroes set free, his estate heavily mortgaged, and not enough energy left him to start anew in life. Many another man with but half his chances even at this time, might have made a large fortune ; but Jim was lazy, and did not care to exert himself sufficiently to get along. He was not brave enough to meet liis adversities and combat them, so he took to morphine eating, and came to ruin in a manner of which the reader has already been informed. After having taught himself to ease his troubles by the accursed drug, he soon taught his poor wife to do the same, and this is now the greatest crime we have to charge against Jim Long- ley. After having caused the shipwreck of his own soul, lie must needs bring to ruin the soul of his life-partner in the same whirlpool of dissipation. It is not a light charge to bring against any man, and it was gnawing at what little conscience Jim had left, in an unenviable manner. He had tried to maike himself believe, that old John Selden had been tlie cause of it all ; but the truth was, that Selden had only taken advantage of their condition to make money by it, and was answerable for that sin alone; while poor Jim bad ruined a human soul, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 129 and must needs answer in the end for that greatest of all sins. You and I, giod reader, would not like to be tormented with the thoughts that were crowding in upon him this day. He had willingly ti'rned the whole management of the patient over into grandma's liands, and from the time of her arrival wan- dered around like some one dazed. He could not bring him- self to realize that his wife was dying, for poor Jim had loved her after his fashion, and her death would be a great blow to him. Lizzie Longley had suffered mucli in her downfall. Her mortification at her present condition was great, and caused her to shun all social intercourse with those who had been her friends in happier days. She spent her time at home, with no other company than her abandoned husband, who was kind to her in his way. Her old friends wished to help her, but she repulsed all offers, and the neighbors soon ceased making any advances of kindness to her. Poor thing ! she was dying now in poverty and in shame. Her misS[)ent life was rising up before her and accusing her in tones which no other demon can employ. Her only consoler, before grandma reached her, had been her husband; whose consolation, if he ciiose to give any, must have been like scor- pion stings. When grandma reached the cabin she found Brandon still there, and as she entered the room used for kitclien, dining-room and parlor, Brandon was there preparing some medicine for the patient to take during the remainder of the day -and night. The poor woman was in the next room, and they could hear her groaning through tlie partition. As grandma entered Brandon looked up with a surprised look on his face, and said : "What, Grandma, you here? I did not expect you to come. There are enough of us young folks to nurse without you exposing yourself." "Yes, I'm here," replied the old lady. "I come because I thought it to be my duty. I ain't too old to do that yet." So Brandon turned the nursing over into grandma's hands and gave lier full charge of the case, for he had no confidence in Jim, and was only too glad to have a responsible person around to take charge of things. After giving her full direc- tions as to the treatment of the case lie rode away, promising to come again as soon as he was able. For several hours after grandma entered the sickroom Liz- zie Longley took no notice of her wiiatsoever, but lay with her face to the wall, groaning. When the time came to give the medicines she took them mechanically, without a word to 9 130 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. grandma or sign of recognition whatsoever. On former occa- sions, since the downfall of tlie Longleys, grandma had offered them many kindnesses, but they had repulsed her on every occasion. But the good old lady was in liopes that as Lizzie Longley was dying now, that she might give some token of friendly feeling, and that she might be able to say some word of kindness and cheer to the dying woman that would make death less bitter to her. Grandma could see that the mental pains from which the patient was suffering were far more severe than the pangs of the fever. She longed to say some- thing that would give her comfort, and yet she dreaded to make the attempt, not knowing exactly what was best to say. By and by, as night was coming on, grandma took the dying woman's hand in hers and stroked it as she would a little child's, and said : " Lizzie Longley, I wish you would let me be a friend to you. I want to say something to you that will relieve your misery and make your sorrow less. I have known you a long, long time, ever since you was a beautiful young lady, and I have always liked you and wanted to do somethin' for you, but you looked as if you didn't want me to come near you. I knowed you long afore the war, and I was there at your wed- din' that night, and I must say that it was the finest thing I ever saw in all my life. You was always kind to me when I was poor and you was rich, and now that you are as poor as I am, I want to make you feel that I am your friend, and that I want to ease your sufferin' o' mind and body." The sick woman turned slowly from her position facing the wall, stopped her sighing for a moment, looked straight at grandma, and said in a weak voice : " It has been a long, long time since anyone has said those words to me. Grandma, and I am afraid you have come too late. I believe you mean what you say, and I think you are truthful when you say that you wish to be my friend, and that you would give me relief from pain if you could." When she said this she lay still a minute or two as if exhausted. She was revolving many thoughts in her mind. By and by, she continued : " There ain't many of my old friends who have come to me with that message. "When we lost our property, they too left lis, and have never been near us since. But, Grandma, you ars better, far better than the others, and I believe you are a true friend. There are several things I wish to say to you before I die, and there is one question I wish you to answer roe ; but I g^n't tell you all about it at once, for I am weak A PBINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 131 now." She paused again to catch her breath. Dusk had come on, and the pale light of early dark was pervading the room. Grandma said naught, knowing that she had gained the patient's confidence, and that she would proceed so soon as she gained strength enough. ''I am but a poor, weak creature. Grandma, and I don't know whether I am worthy of God's love and forgiveness or not. As I have been lying here suffering with this fever, my past life has been rising up and condemning me. My con- science has given me greater pain than the fever, and there was nobody, before you came, to whom I might confide my - troubles. I have ruined my life ! I have ruined my life ! I have killed my soul, and soon I am going to meet my God, with only a ruined life to show Him. But I tried to do right. Grandma, nobody in all the world will ever know liow haird I tried. I began taking the accursed tiling to make me sleep at night wlien I was nervous — Jim, he gave it to me — and I never knew it was any harm, till I got used to it and could not quit it. But I tried time and again to do better, but there was no one to help me. It seemed to me that all tlie people around us wanted to make money out of our affiiction, instead of aid- ing us to reform. We had money enough until all our land wetit— John Selden bought tlie last of it last month — and now we have notliing but the things you see around us, and a dollar or two, which Jim will spend for morphine before the week is up. I don't know what will become of him then. I shall be whei'e money will do but little good." Again the dying woman paused. Siie had faltered and rested several times during tlie foregoing passage. Night had come on, and grandma could just see the pale face in the gloom. She looked around the dismal apartment as the sick woman refeiTcd to what they had, but saw only one chair besides the one she was sitting in, a broken old washstand, and the bed upon which Lizzie Longley was reclining. In a moment the sick woman continued : " When I found out that all the world was for making money out of our affliction, and when I believed that no one was willing to help me, I lost heart and gave up trying to be good ; and, it was only when the fever came and I knew I must meet God soon, that my ruined life rose up before me, and accused me, and I desired to live a better life. I wanted to tell some one of my sufiering and ask their blessing, but there was no one whom I could trust. Grandma, till you came." Once more she paused. Grandma said naught, but kept on stroking her h^nd, The night was deepening all around. 132 A PRINCE OF GOOD FKLLOWS. They could hear Jim Longley's steps in the next room. Then the dying woman continued : " You know 1 said- 1 had a question to ask you, and I am willing to take tiie answer from you, because I know you have been good all your life ; and if God would tell the tvulh about such matters to any one, He would tell it to some person who had lived a holy life far into old age. I wish to ask you this question : When a woman has ruined her life here, is there any hope of making it beautiful again over in the better coun- try ? When one of God's children have sinned against liini here without forgiveness, is there hope of a better life beyond the grave? I know what tlie preacher said up at Joiiii Sel- den's house the other day, when we went to hear the sermon. He said there was no hope for the sinner who passed as such into the other life. But he made God out such a monster that I believed naught he said. And, Grandma, I want to hear what you think about it, for I know that it will be true." And here the sick woman ended. For more tiian a minute there was silence in the room. During that time grandma was trying to gather her scattered thoughts, so as to be able to tell Lizzie Longley what she thought of the mercy of God. By and by she said : " I am but a poor old woman, without book-larniri', and I have no education to speak of, and I don't know whether I have a right to talk about religion against the preachers ; but I have always tried to do my duty all along tlie road, and 1 have thought many a time of what you have asked me, and the thoughts I iiave had, it seemed at times, as if they might be God a-talkin' to me. I ain't got no chillun' myself, and I don't know exactly how God must feel toward His sons and daugh- ters; but I have loved other folkes' little ones, and when I love anybody they can never do anythin' so bad as to make me wish to cast 'em out into sufferin' and darkness. And when I tiiink of how much better God is than I am, I know that He never yet nor never can throw one single soul so far into hell but what it will be within the reach of His love. Oh ! my dear friend, God is love ! My heart tells me that, and He can never hurt the tiniest thing in all His universe, and is always ready to help the biggest sinner in the deepest hell. He fol- lows His chillun* into the darkest places, and will aid and help them forever, and will bring them back home whenever they are willin' to come. I have often thought, as ignorant as I am, that God could never be truly happy till he had helpbd the last soul out of sin into peace and rest. I know some preach- ers say different, but they make God out worst than the wild- A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 133 cats and panthers. But it ain't so. God is Love, and He loves us all forever. It may be He loves the sinners more than He does the saints, and will be the happier when they all come home." The old woman had talked herself out of breath, and pansed a moment to rest. " No, Lizzie, there is no reason why you may not become good in the other world. You will have to struggle and resist temptation there, just as you would here, but God will give you every chance to amend your life. You will find sweet, beauti- ful places there, where just such people as you will be taken for treatment, and where the flowers will bloom, and the rivers look like light, and where every soul will help you to be good, and where you may live a nobler and a better life. There. will be nobody there a-pullin' you down and discouragin' you, nobody tryin' to make money out of your sorrow. You ask me how I know it ? God has told it to me, and ' I would believe it against the word of all the preachers who ever lived_» You can never go so far as to be entirely out of the borders S God's love ! " • m The old woman stopped. She had had her say, and had told, after her own fasliion, what she thought of the love and mercy of God. In ten long years she had not talked so long nor so fully upon the plans of God. During that time she had lived His will, but words were not her forte, as she had inform- ed us, and she rarely talked about religion. But this night her heart had been greatly moved, and what she said came from the depths of her soul. And the old lady had said exactly what she believed. She would never have told a falsehood to make a deathbed easy. The straight line of truth had been her policy, and she held to it here as well as elsewhere through life. The dying woman thanked her for it. It was a great well of consolation to the poor weary soul. She knew intuitively that she could believe what grandma told her with more im- plicit faith than all the preachers put together, for if God ever confides a mystery to any one, it is to one who has done His will silently through threescore years. Grandma's answer to tlie great question relieved the sick woman, and she ceased her groaning, and by and by she fell asleep, and slept peacefully till dawn. . About eight o'clock next morning Brandon came back, and told grandma that he would attend to the patient for several hours, and that she might return home to see to things and take a rest. She came back, ate breakfast, and tried to sleep 134 A PBINCE OP GOOD FELLOW8. awhile, but failed. About ten o'clock she returned to Jim Longley's cabin. In the evening, as I was sitting on the front gallery, I saw her enter the gate again, and as she reached the steps I said : " What news, Grandma ? '' " The poor woman is dead, sir,'" said she, coming up the steps to where I was sitting. " She was sufferin' terribly from body and mind last evenin', but she got peace o' mind some time in the night, and as she died a while ago I could see that she had reached the land of peace and rest. Tliey will need you for sittin' up there to-night, sir. You have got to begin some time, and you had as well begin to-night. The fever is all around us, and it is no time for a man to try to save his life now." A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 135 CHAPTER XX. When Grandma Gray told me that it would be expected of me to go and sit up that night at the Longley cabin, I felt a cold shudder run through all my being ; for I knew with what unrelenting fury the fever was raging, and I still held a wholesome respect for the health and welfare of N. Warring- ton Crabtrie. But still I recognized the fact, fully, that if ever I were to repay Madison Parish for all the good eating it had furnished me, now was my time ; and I knew, moreover, that if I flinched now, I need never expect, in the future, a repetition of the great kindnesses my friends had showered upon me. And this latter fact went further toward steadying my nerves, than all other considerations put together. So ■when sundown came, I got myself in proper shape and started in the direction of Jim Longley's cabin. I set my eye straight on that spot, grit my teeth well together, and marched straight forward, and that is how I come to get there ; for had I hesi- tated only for a moment, I would never have reached tlie spot. When I reached the place Brandon came out to meet me, and after shaking hands with me, said : " Well Crab., my man, we have got you down to business at last. What in the world are you trembling so about ? No one is going to shoot you. Brace up, my man, and keep your courage up ! The fever seldom gets a real brave fellow — the cowards always take it first. Well, I wanted you to watch here with Jim until morning. He swore he would not stay here by him- self, and I thought it a pity to leave the dead woman all alone, so I sent for you. We could not get ready in time to bury her this evening, but I shall be back early in the morning, and have the thing attended to then. The fever is all over the country now, and I am kept running from morning until night. I found a poor negro lying in the weeds and dying near the Mounds this morning. I was attracted toward him by his groans, and remained with him till he passed away. It seems as if frost will never come this year ! It will take us all off if this thing keeps on ipuch longer. But come. Crab., old boy, and get down to business ! You have got to take your chance with the rest of us ! 136 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. So the doctor and I went into the house. There he got his medicines together, and then rode off, promising to come back early in the morning to bury the dead. Then I settled down to spend the night, with about as gloomy a feeling pervading me as I had yet experienced in life. I had for company that night a morpliine-eater, whose eyes shone wild from the effects of the drug ; a corpse, and an owl which roosted in an oak near by, and which during the long night in- sisted on hooting in a melancholy way. And still another thing I had for company that night that I relished less than either of the others, and that was the feeling that the accursed plague had surrounded us, and was fast destroying the b«8t men of our land. But I determined to take things as bravely as possible ; so I lit my cigar, lit the lamp as night came on, and took an old paper fi-om my pocket and began to read. Jim Longley came soon and sat down beside me and wanted to talk, but I gave him no encouragement. Had it been any other man, I might have attempted to console him ; but I felt that Jim was past all consolation, and that it were best to leave him to J^is own re- flections, which must be sad indeed. I had but poor success in reading, for the paper was an old one, and I already knew well everything that was in it ; so after a few minutes I laid it down on the table, and passed to the front door, so as to avail myself of the fresh air. Jim took it up a moment and pretended to be reading, then threw it aside with an oath, and came close to where I was sitting. " I want to talk to you, Crabtrie, and I wiU talk to you, sir, about the thing that is bothering me. I just can't hold in any longer, and keep alive. I tell you that it's all old John Sel. den's doings. He's cheated us out of our last cent now, audit was he who killed tiiat woman yonder and not the fever. She died of want and starvation — that is what she died of — and if John Selden had dealt justly by us, it would never have hap- pened. He swindled me out of my land, sir, and never paid me one-third what it was worth. He is the cause of all our ruin." There was a wild, crazed look in his eyes ; in fact, he looked very much like a crazy man. I thought it best not to inter- rupt him till he had had his say. " I remembered what you told me, Crabtrie, the last time I had a talk with you. I remembered it just in time to keep me from killing that man. About a month ago he \\n\ us closed out on a confession of judgment he got out of me wlien I wanted morphine one day. That day I got my six-shooter A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 137 down and cleaned it up — I was saving it for the occasion-^and put six new cartridges in it ; and that night I waited by the roadside to kill him, as he returned from Delta. I had sworn that I would do it the day he took our last acre, and I had made up my mind to do it at this time. I heard his horse coming through the weeds, I had my finger on the trigger, and I had almost taken aim when what you told me came into my mind, and something said to me : ' Don't do it, Jim, God will repay ! ' I lowered my pistol, and hid in the weeds till Selden had passed, and then came back home again. Crab- trie, if it had not been for what you told me there that day, I would be a murderer to-night. I have got but one thing to live for now, and that is to see my vengeance against John Selden. I intend to live just for that. If it were not for that I would kill myself to-night. It is th« only thing I have to live upon, sir, and I am praying for it night and 4Ky-< — night and day, sir. It is the only thing I ask, to see the ven- geance of the Lord against old Selden for the way he iifls treated us, and then I can die happy. I don't ask for any- thing for myself. I just want to be there when that man go@i down to ruin, and I want to go down with him in the same boat. I want to hear his last cry, and I want to see his agony of despair. I am biding my time, sir, for I know it will come, by and by. I won't barm him myself now. All that is passed. I am just waiting for the vengeanee of God. Some folks say it is sweet to live on love. It may be so, sir, but when you can't get that, the next sweetest thing is to live on bate. Ah, sir, I have tried it, and it's rare old diet!" I let him go on. I did not think it necessary to tell him that God was love, and could never take vengeance as he wished ; that if he secured what he asked, he must go part- nership with the Storm or the Devil. I did not take the time to explain this to him, for I knew that in his present coBdition he could not appreciate its meaning. *' And so, Grabtrie, I want to live just to see John Selden come to ruin. I shall pray for that night and day from this time on. A hundred plans of revenge have entered my mind, and each time, before I could execute them, I would hear the voice telling me to wait ; so I know it is coming, and that I shall be^here to see his doom. When he sold us out that day he told me that we might live in this cabin. It was won- derfully kind of him, wasn't it, Grabtrie ? And I do intend to stay right here just for one thing — to be near by when disas- ter overtakes him. I want to see him then, I want to be face to face with him, and I want to taunt him with my ruin." 138 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. Jim's eyes were burning wilder and wilder. He looked as if some demon had taken possession of him. The old owl out in the oak was hooting in a diabolical way. Shadows played around the dead woman after a wild, weird manner. I began to wish I was somewhere else. I became afraid that some- thing would put it into Jim's head that I had wronged him, and that he migiit attack me. Soon he continued : " He gave us permission to live here and starve. We had only a few dollars left, and that's all gone now. And we would have starved, but that little angel-boy of Selden's heai-d about our condition, and every day since he has ridden down here with a tin bucket full of food for us. There is no other per- son in all the world we would have taken it from, but he did it so kind and sweet, that we just could not repulse the little i'el- low. The first morning he came he told us that he had heard that we did not have anything to eat, so he took part of his breakfast and got old Aunt Dinali to give him something else, and then he saddled old Jack and rode down with it. Wlien he came in, looking just like an angel, he said that he could not bear to think of anybody suffering on his father's planta- tion ; so he had brought us down all he could find to eat, and that next day he would bring us more. And every day since, sir, that little, fellow has ridden down on old Fightin' Jack, with his tin bucket full of things. If it had not been for him, Crabtrie, we would have both been dead by this time." Now I had become wonderfully interested in what Jim was saying. Tlie subject was one nearest my heart. So when he closed, I grasped his hand and inquired : " You don't mean to say, Jim, that little Dan has been feed- ing you both for the last month, and that without his charity you would have died ? You don't mean to say that he has been dividing his own meals with you for that length of time ? Don't be taunting me, Jim, I pray of you, but tell me the truth ! " " It's all gospel truth, Crabtrie, just as I tell it to you. As regular as the day comes that little fellow rides in on old Figiitin' Jack, with his tin bucket full of one thing or another. One day it is full of one thing, next day it is filled witii another. Sometimes it ain't very choice, but it's good enougii for us ; and if it had not been for it, we would have starved before now. He told me the other day, that when he could not get enough any other way, he took part of his own meals and brought them to us." " Stop, Jim, stop right there! " I cried, springing up and starting for the door. " I must go to him at once. Whv. wr. A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 139 three months ago I threw his love away from me, and told him he cared for rothing but money, and that I did not want his love ! Now I would give the whole world to have it back again I I, Jim Longley, accused him of being unworthy of my love ; and here he has bee.n keeping you two from starva- tion, and going hungry himself that you might not want ; while I, a great big man, have been surrounded with goo.l eating, and never once offered to assist you. I am guilty, Jiiii, guilty I say, man ! I have thrown away the richest treasure 1 ever had, and I must run and get it back again before it is too late. It is but eight o'clock now. I shall go up to Selden's house, it's not far off, and wake the little fellow up ; and upon my knees I shall beg his pardon for what I said to him, and ask him to give me back his love again." Jim grabbed me as I started out of the door. " For God's sake, don't leave me here, Crabtrie, with that corpse in yon- der, and the owl hooting overhead, and the black night all around me! I would go mad if you did! I just can't stay! If you leave me I shall run away. Just wait till morning and Dan will be down with his tin bucket full of food, and you can see him then. He'll be sure to come, for he hasn't let even the fever stop him. That boy is more like one of God's angels than anything else. I wish I was one-hundredth part as good ! " And so I had to spend the night in company with my dis- mal surroundings, and had ample time to reflect over my ac- tions to little Dan. I had thrown his love away, and accused him of sordidness, and here had been presented to me a sample of his charity and loving kindness which put my whole past life to shame. I remembered distinctly, that the only time that Jim had asked me for aid, I had refused him ; while my little friend, without being asked, had deprived himself, and ministered to others out of his little store. Would the morn- ing never come when I might go to him and ask his forgive- ness and beg back his love again ! It might be that my words had wounded him so that he could no longer love me. It miglit be that he would never love me again. Why was the day so long in breaking? Would the sun never rise.'' I went a dozen times and looked toward the Vicksburg hills, but nothing but darkness met my gaze. Long iiours passed, during which time I had to listen to Jim Longley's ravings, and to the hoot- ing of the owl overhead. By and by, I saw a streak of light in tiie east, I saw it slowly widen till it reached full across the sky ; then I saw tlie great sun mount above the spires of Vicks- burg, and, thank God ! it was day. 140 A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. I knew that John Selden had early breakfast at his house, so shortly after sunrise I bathed my face and started down the road to meet some one whom I knew would shortly pass that way. And when I had gone not quite a'mile I espied, away down the road, a little figure jogging along on an old black mule. Who in all the wide world could it be but old Fightin' Jack and little Dan? When we met he looked at me in the queerest way, and I saw his lips begin to quiver, as if he wished to say something, yet knew not what to say. "Jump down, Dan," said I, "and hitch old Jack to the fence here, and let us walk on together. But first sit down here upon this bank, for I have something to say to you, wiiich I can't put ofi" one minute longer." He jumped down and bitched the old mule to the fence. " Come here, sir, and look me straight in the eyes. I stayed all night at Jim Longley's last night, and he told me how good you had been, keeping him from starvation for a whole month now. Tou know I told you, Dan, the last time I saw you, that I did not want your love — that you might throw it into the great river yonder. Well, I have come to beg you to give it back to me again, and to tell you that I would rathei- have it than all the treasures in the world. Well, sir, will you give it back again ? " I saw his black eyes grow very large. I saw two great tears form in them and roll down his cheeks. Slowly he came up closer to me and put his little arms around my neck in his old- time way. " I just could n©t keep from loving you, Mr. Crabtrie," said he, " I just could not keep from loving you, sir, even if I wanted to. I did not mean wluit I said that day to you, I was only funnin', and I have cried about it many times since. For I wanted you to love me, Mr. Crabtrie, more than anything else, and that day when you told me that I might throw my love in the river yonder-— that you did not want it — I went up to old Fightin' Jack and told liim all about it, and asked the Lord that I might die, you had hurt me so. And every night since then I have dreamed that you was tellin' me about pan- thers and wildcats and catamounts, and then I would wake up and cry because I knew that you didn't want my love, and that you would never tell me any more Injun stories— never any more." My heart was too full for words. All I could do was to take him in my arms and hug him tight. By and by, he looked into my feee with such a sweet smile, and said : " I may love you always now, mayn't I, sir ? And I need A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 141 not throw my love in the river yonder, need I? Oh, Mr, Crabtrie, I had almost forgotten about it! Please tell me about that panther killin' tliat man at the Mounds just after the war ! " His fun was irresistible. I broke forth into a hearty laugh. " Come on, you little roscal," said I, "let's give Jim Long- ley his breakfast first, and then I shall tell you all the stories you are willing to hear." And as we walked on together the thought struck me to open his tin bucket and see what it contained. As I did so, a medley of edibles caught my eye which were rich to see — waf- fles, buckwheat cakes, pork, chicken, rice, etc., etc. — and it was unmistakably Aunt Dinah's handicraft, the superfluity of grease convinced me of that ; — but it was far too good for Jim Longley to eat, and it is worthy of note, that the reflection came strongly upon me, that such as tliis had saved from starv- ation two human beings; while I, the immortal N. Warring- ton Crabtrie, had been solicitous only about the food that went into my own solitary stoniach. " So you divided your own meals with them, did you, Dan? That was very noble of you ! " "Yes, sir; but then, I knew if I got very hungry Aunt Dinah would give me something else to eat, you know she loves me so." That day, aft«r we buried Jim Longley's wife, I spent three hours in telling Dan Selden panther, wildcat and Indian yarns, and made 'em (by all the gods !) as lively as I could. l42 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXI. October had passed into November, and still there was no abatement in the deatli rate, nor in tlie fury with which the fever raged. People looked longingly for the arrival of frost; but the usual date for such occurrence had [lassed sevenil weeks ago, and still the heat continued, as if desirous of adding iis force to the plague that was devouring our land. Each day news would reach us of the death of some good or great man, and men began to whisper, that if frost did not soon come, there would be few left to tell the tale. But I must hasten on with my story as rapidly as possible, •for the telling of this sorrow, which I have imposed upon my- self, is little to my liking, and I wish to be quit of it as Hoon as possible. I shall give such portionaiof it as relate most directly to our characters, regretting that I have to record even that much of sorrow and pain. After I had been broken in as nurse, I no longer dreaded the ■fever so much ; but went from house to house, wherever I was needed, ministering to the suflfering and dying. Men began to say that Crabtrie was not such a trifling fellow after all, and that there was good stuff in him, in spite of all his laziness. Indeed, I began' to feel very much more of a man than I had in years ; and I felt, at last, that I was earning the bread that I ate. In my nursing, from house to Ijouse, I came in constant contact with Brandon and Howard Sayer ; who were con- stantly at their post of duty, fighting, as best they could, I he deadly foe. Each time I met the doctor, he would tell me of the death of some dear friend, either in the parish or over in Vicksburg. Yet, through it all, he never lost heart or cour- age. He remained the same old, cheerful, dauntless Brandon still. One day about the middle of November, he came to the house where I was nursing a sick man, and taking me aside, said : " Crabtrie, I have just left Mrs. Brewster, who, you know, took tlie fever four days ago. Poor thing, she can never get well again! Grandma is with iier now nursing her, and the sick lady sent me after you. She says she has something that she wishes very much to say to you before she dies. I doi^ kngw what jt is that is weighing on her mind, but there i§ gome- A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 143 thing she is very anxious to tell you before she passes away. You may take my hofse there and ride over to her place, and I shall remain liere and nurse the sick man till you get back. I have done all I can for her, and grandma has full instructions what to do, so they will have no further need for me. You had better ride quickly, or you may be too late." So I mounted the doctor's horse and started full gallop to- ward Mi's. Brewster's cottage, which was fully four miles off. As I rode on, I perplexed myself much to imagine what the dear little lady had to tell me, and why it was weighing so upon her mind. She had been too good and noble to have any confession to make that would involve any wrong. May be she was going to leave her little property to ine. No ! I had acted as witness to her will after little Mary's death, and that gave it all to her relations in Maryland. It must be something else. The more I thought about it the more perplexed I Bd*^ came, untU at last I gave it up, and decided to wait until the dear, good soul should explain it to me herself. As I reached the gate a puff of sweet perfume was wafted out to greet me. The roses were in full bloom, and tlie sur- rounding air was laden with their fragrance. I found them all as well worked and as weedless as usual. The chrysanthe- mums were in full bloom, and adding their rich colors to the bright display. As I was dismounting, grandma espied me, and came out to the gate to meet me. " It's you, is it, Mr. Crabtrie ? She's been askin' for you for the last two hours, and I was afeard she would pass away before you come. I don't know what it is that is weighin' so on her mind, but she says that she can't die easy till she's seen you. Poor, dear little lady, she's asleep now. You had better go in and wait till she wakes. She ain't long for this world." So I went in quietly and took my seat by the bedside. Everything was as spotlessly clean as of yore, and my dear good friend lay sleeping calmly, with her thin white hands resting on the white counterpane. I had not been sitting there many minutes before I saw her stir, and look toward me, and a smile of recognition passed over her dear, sweet face. "So you have come at last, have you, Mr. Crabtrie? It seemed as if you would never come ! " And here she paused a moment to rest. " I sent for you, sir, to ask a favor of you before I die. You know how yery much I love my flowers, and I was in great 144 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. distress to know what to do with them till I thouglit of you. Since all ray little ones have left me, my flowers have been my only children, and I have learned to love them next to my little ones; and if I thought they were neglected after 1 hhs gone, I could not be iiappy — no, not even in Heaven. 1 thought at one time I would ask Dr. Brandon to have tiieni nil piled together and burned, for I would rather they were iiH destroyed at once, than that they should suifer through loi\' neglect. Then I remembered how fond you were of flowers, mo I sent for you to ask you to take care of tliem for me, for 1 know that you will never let them sufl^er fi'ora neglect." Again she paused to rest. She was lying so she could see out through the open door to where her pets were blooming, and through the opening the sweet perfume was wafted to us. By and by, she continued : " There is no other person in the world that I would be wil- ling to trust them to, save you, for you know all about tlieir whims and wants, and you know how much water to give them, and how much air and light each kind requires. Any one else in the parish would let them suffer, and if I thought they were suffering I should be miserable even in the land of God. Now, my dear, kind friend, I want you to promise me that you will tte good to them, it will make me rest sweetly when I am gone." , I took her band in mine, and assured her, that though I was but a poor homeless man, still I would take them and do all for them that lay in my power. "Tiiank you, sir ; my good kind friend, I thank you ! I knew you would do it. I can now die easy. They have been so much to me, it's sweet to think that they will never suffer from neglect when I am gone." When she said this she closed her eyes for a moment, and I thought she had fallen into a sweet sleep. But, by and by, she opened them again, and said to me in a low tone : " Mr. Crabtrie, please bring me the pictures of my little children from tliQ mantel in the sitting-room. It won't be long before I go to meet them now, and I want to see their dear, sweet feces once before I die." I passed into the sitting-room, got the pictures, and came back again. I had to hold them up so the dear soul could see them, she was far too weak to hold them herself. After looking at them a moment in silence, she said : " Ah, there is little Arthur, sir, my little angel ! He would have been fourteen tliis winter had he lived. He was the noblest, the sweetest of them all, and he will be the first to run and meet me when he hears that I am comine. And that, i» Chan. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 145 ley, my smart boy. He -would have made a great man had he lived. But God knew best, God knew best ! He took them all from me, but not for long — not for long. I shall have them all again soon, in a laud where they will never be taken from me any more." She lay there looking at the pictures of her little ones for some time, then she closed her eyes, and fell into a sweet sleep. Grandma came in, in a few minutes, and after looking at her for a moment, felt lier pulse and said : " She can't last long now, sir. In such cases as these the fever does its work quickly. But it has never slain a sweeter soul than this one. It won't be long." It was about half an hour I sat near her expecting to see her awaken again. And while I waited, I could smell the rich perfume of the honey-suckles and roses blowing in from the yard. By and by, a mocking-bird alighted on the window- sill of the room, and raising its wings began to sing in a low sweet tone. A ray of sunlight fell just athwart the songster, and rested upon the bed of the dying woman. As the bird was singing in its sweetest tones, I saw the dear little lady stir and look up, with a look, not of this world, in her eyes, and a light of heavenly brightness beaming over her face ; and, grasping my hand which lay near hers on the bed, she said: . "There they all are, sir, my lost ones — they are coming down the road to meet me — they are crowned with flowers, and they are singing as they come — Little Arthur is ahead of the rest, and Mary and Charley and John. Oh, don't you see them, Mr. Crabtrie? Can't you hear them singing as they come ? " I could see nothing but the wonderful light on the face of my dying friend, and the tears that were fast filling my own dim eyes ; I could hear nothing but the low breeze outside, and the sweet song of the mocking-bird upon the window-sill. Then the liglit passed away from her lace, her hand pressed mine for a moment, and then I saw that she had gone, and I knew beyond all doubting that my dear, good friend had found her lost little ones in the kingdom of God. Next day we buried her close by where little Mary lay, and over her grave I planted an Amie Viebert rose, which has grown and flounshed ever since ; and the promise that I made her, I have kept to tlie very letter, so that the dear little lady miglit have perfect peace in the home of God, 10 146 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXII. It is the last of November now, and no frost yet. Men and women have been praying for it for A^eeks, just as those dying of thirst in the desert pray for flowing waters. But their prayers have all been in vain up to this time, and frost has delayed its arrival for more than a month after its ususil time of appearance ; as if it, too, were desirous of adding to the ruin that was upon us. One heavy frost would put an end to all the suffering, and stop the fever ; but the frost will never come, it seems, and men and women go on dying like so many flies — life has become so cheap ! About the latter part of November I went back to General Lane's house to take a two days' rest, and on the second day Brandon stopped in to tell me the sad news that little Dun Selden had been taken down with the fever, and was now call- ing for me. The doctor could not say whether the little fellow would live or die. His case was severe, but he might get well — he could not say. And now my hour of affliction had come, and with a heavy heart I rode down to John Selden's house to nurse my little friend. On all hands men and women had been losing their loved ones, and I had stood by untouched, and thought that sorrow could never reach me. Now I knew that I, too, like other men, must pass under the rod, and felt what it was to have one I loved suffering from pain. When I reached the house I found Mr. Selden full of grief. There was only one thing in the world he loved more tlian money, and tliat was little Dan. All his plans for the future centered around his little child, and it was for him that he was hoarding and saving, so that he might some day be a grand gentleman, with plenty at liis command. And now it seemed possible that the boy might not have need of the money after all. He shook my hand tremblingly, and looked and spoke like an old, old man. It was tlie first time I had ever seen him when he was not talking and thinking about making money. It was evident that a great affliction had come upon him, and for the first time in my life I felt truly sorry for the man. "When I went in I found my little friend lying on his bed, A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 147 and evidently suffering much, but giving no token of liis pain. I could see that he was very glad to see me, and liis face brightened wonderfully wlien I came. -He put out his little arms to me, and I stroked them and kissed them, but for a long, long time, neither of us said anything. Tliere was noth- ing left for either of us to say. Then, when I had sat by Iiis bed a long time, he looked up at me, with the love-light in his eyes, and said : "I may love you now always, mayn't I, Mr. Crabtrie? and I need not throw my love into the great river yonder, need I ? » It was the question he had put to me the day of our recon- ciliation, anr! it was the one thing that seemed to give him most joy, t he fact that his love was no longer rejected. He was too sick, too full of pain to ask for any stories now. He lay there sufiering silently, without a groan, bearing his pain as a hero should. By and by, when sundown came on, the little fellow beckoned me to come near him, and said : " Mr. Crabtrie, please sir, go out to the stable, and feed old Fightin' Jack for me. I can't trust tlie hired man to do it, but I can trust you. Give him fifteen ears of corn and lots of hay.'! So I went out to Selden's stable and fed the old mule just as I had been directed, and after patting him a moment, I came back to the house again. Little Dan's sickness had the effect of reversing the natural propensities in both his father and myself. We both longed above all things that the little man might recover, and to this end did all we could. Now old man Selden, who had been pray- ing for the last twenty years for every blessing under the sun, as soon as he thought be was about to lose his greatest treas- 4ire, seemed to forget all about God and His mercy, and went about offering money to any one and every one if they would savetlie life of his child ; 'while I, who had no money to offer, and who' had not done enough praying in twenty years to. fill a pint cup, got literally down upon my knees, and began to pray to God that He would not take the little fellow from us. I doubt not that my praying was as valueless as John Selden's money in saving the life of the little boy, but it was all I could do ; and with a sick heart I petitioned the great Giver not to take bur treasure from us, to take anything else, but to leave us this one flower- And the poor old father looked as if he would go wild. I believe he had forgotten ^]] about God, and ha^now gonMepc? 148 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. only in the power of money, and that too at a time when all his dollars were valueless to him. "When Brandon came that evening he took him aside and offered him five thousand dollars if he would stay constantly with the child for one whole week. Brandon told him that hfe would not neglect his other patients for all the money the old man had, but that he would do everything in his power to save the child. After the doctor had been in to see Dan and was about leaving, I walked to the front gate with him and asked him what he thought of the case. " I can't say, Crabtrie. The boy is in such a condition now that it is impossible to tell anything definite about him. The case is a severe one, no doubt about that ; but with careful nursing and favorable weather, he may get well. You stay constantly by him, and follow out my instructions to the letter, and he may recover. But don't be too hopeful, old boy, for this fever is a terrible scourge, and it has killed many a man that I thought surely would get well." So Brandon rode away, leaving me with a heavy heart ; and I went back to the house to where my little friend lay, uncomplaining, in pain. All I could do for him, I did, but that was very little — would to God it had been more ! Aunt Dinah called me out about dark, and after I had closed the door so Dan could not hear us, she said : " Oh ! Mars Napoleon, dat little boy ain't goin' to die, is he ? It would kill dis ole -nigger if he do ! I never loved any- thing in my lif like I do dat chil' ! " "God knows, Aunt Dinah," said I, " God alone knows ! Air we. poor folks can do is to pray to Him, and submit pa- tiently to His will." In about an liour the old colored woman came to me, and told me that supper was ready, and that she would remain with Dan until I came back. I had no heart for food, but I thought I would go to the dining-room and drink a cup of coffee to strengthen me for the night. I found John Selden there be- fore me. He scarcely let me get seated before he began. " He sha'n't die, sir, I will pay out every cent I have in the world before I let him die ! I will give ten thousand dollars to any good physician who will come here and stay until he gets well. All he needs is constant attention from a physician of skill, and I shall have it if it costs me the last cent I have in the world. He sha'n't die, I say, he sha'n't die ! Money can do anything, and I shall spend the last cent I have got, but what I save my boy J " The Wftn's talk tn34e me deathly sick. My heart wjip al- A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 149 ready weighted down as with lead, end this talk but added to its heaviness. " For God's sake, don't talk that way, Selden I " said I. " Don't you know that life and death are not bought and sold ? Dun't you know that God giveth and taketh away according to His will, and not in payment for any price we poor mortals may give ? For God's sake, sir, say nothing more about money here ; for what you and I have at stake this day, is far too val- uable to be bought for money's worth ! " But lie only raved the more about it, and of his determina- tion to buy back the life of his child. He sent messengers in all directions to piiysicians, offering them large sums if they would come and stay at his house a week. He sent telegi-ams to Vicksburg, begging the physicians there to come over if for only an hour. So about three o'clock the next day, Dr. W of Vicksburg took pity on him, came over in a fUg, and landed just in front of Selden's house. He went in and made an examination of the patient, and when he came out he gave the same opinion of the case that Brandon had given the day before. Tlie case, he said, was a severe one, there was no doubj: of that ; but with careful attention and favorable weath- er, the boy might get well — he did not like to say, he had been disappointed too often. Selden followed him out to the porch. I knew well enough what his object was. He offered the Vicksburg doctor ten thousand dollars to stay and attend the boy for five days. The doctor refused the offer with scorn, and passed out the gate to- ward the river. At this moment a thought passed across my mind. I knew a short route to the point where the tug liiid landed, so calling Aunt Dinah to attend to Dan while 1 wiis gone, I grabbed my hat and ran and intercepted the doctor |g fore he reached the boat. ^ " Stay just one minute. Doctor," said I, " I wish to have a word with you. Old Selden offered you money to stay and nurse hjs child ? " " Yes, he offered me ten thousand dollars to stay five days. That was big wages, two thousand a day ! " " And you refused him ? " " I told him that if he gave me all the money in the State of Louisiana, still I would return to Vicksburg before the sun went down." A steel gray light was burning in his eye, and there was little hope of moving him ; yet now was my chance, and I would try. " Doctor, I have no money, therefore I can offer you none. 150 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. But you may remember that when you were a young man try« ing to get a start in Vicksburg, I did you several favors which materially aided you in getting into practice. You may also remember that you have often expressed a wish to repay me for my kindness. Now is your time. Go back there and stay with Dan till the turning-point comes, and you will have repaid me a thousand-fold." He grasped my hand and looked me straight in the eyes. " Crabtrie," he said, " your sorrow has made you merciless, it has run you wild. I remember the favors of which you have spoken, and they materially assisted me in getting a start. I would repay them at any other time — not now. You forget, sir, that while you have only one loved little one who is suffer- ing, that over in that city on the hills there are hundi-eds — yea, thousands of people who have dear ones who are suffering and dying ! " He gave my hand a final shake, dropped it, and marched forward to the tug. I could see its puffs of smoke as it re- turned to Vicksburg. No bribe would buy the man. He had gone back to duty and — to death ! The very next day he took tiie fever, and in four days was dead. He had passed over to a land where all the money in Louisiana could do him no good, but where the brave, noble heart he carried over with him, would make him a hero tlirough all coming time. So I returned to the house with a leaden weight at my heart, and a feeling of pain which no one who has not been placed in like position, may ever know. I went into the room where the little boy was lying quietly, with his pale arms resting on the counterpane. It was so warm that the window had bi^pn raised by his bed, and he was looking listlessly out into t|ie yard where his pet chickens were scratching around. He did not ask me to tell him any stories, he did not take any interest in anything. Oh! that he would ask about a panther, or a wildcat — how my heart would leap for joy, for tiien I would know that new life was returning, and that my little friend was getting well ! : . About this time I was called from the room for a few min- utes, and when I returijed — lo ! what did my old eyes see ? — what did my old eyes see? Wliy, there at the open window, with his long black head poked into the room, was Fightin' Jack, with Dan's arms wrapped around his old black neck, and the autumn sunshine falling all around. The poor old mule, missing his kind owner, had wandered around and managed to lift the latch of the yard gate, had strolled into the yard, and at length bad found his master. From that time on through A PRINCE OF GOOD FKLLOWS. 151 the little fellow's sickness, the old mule remained constantly near the window. Nothing would induce him to leave, so I got a box and fed him there; and at night when. the window would be let down, old Jack would come and press his moutli against the pane, and peep through the glass to see how it fared with his little friend. And now two days more have passed, and it is very near the first of Decembei. Three days ago the news had reached me tiiat Howard Sayer had been taken down with the fever, and was not expected to live, but I was too much taken up with my own sorrow to pay much heed to it. On the fourth day of Dan's sickness, I was sitting on the side of his bed waiting on the cliild. It would only be a short time before Dr. Brandon would come to make his afternoon visit. I noticed that the weather had changed, and that it was getting much cooler. I went to the window and let it down. Old Jack saw me do it, and wondering what it meant, came and looked through, the glass to see if anything had happened to his little friend. I sat down on the bed. Dan commenced talking about old Jack. I could not talk. I knew that Dr. Brandon would be here in a few minutes. I was sure he was coming to tell me that Dan would never get well. I got from the bed upon the floor. I began to make my last petition to the great Giver that He would not take him from me. Soon I heard Brandon's steps on the front gallery. I heard him talk- ing to Selden in the hall. I heard him say that Howard Sayer had just died. I crouched down closer to the floor. He was coming to tell me, I thought, that little Dan must follow where Howard had gone. I heard him open the door and advance, and I knew then he was examining the patient ; and then, (Oh ! ye Gods ! did my old ears hear aright ?) I heard him say: "Hurrah! Dan, my little man, you are past all danger! We will have you up and well in less than a week ! " I sprang from my position on the floor, and throwing my arms around Brandon hugged him with all my might ; and while I hugged him I danced with him around all the room, and as we went whirling around in this wild way I espied old Fightin' Jack out in tlje yard, with his head hung low and a melancholy look upon his face ; and then I remembered that as yet he had heard naught of the good news that was setting me wild. I threw wide the door, I rushed out to where he stood, and throwing my arms around his old black neck, 1 cried : " Cheer up, old boy ! Cheer up, Old Jack ! Just listen to the news I bring you ! He's getting well — ^is getting well, I say ! 152 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. And soon he'll be out to feed and ride you once again, and soon the springtime will come for both of us, and the flowers will bloom, and we sliall hear the workers singing in the fields. Ah ! it's joy, Old Jack, joy every wliere, and my heart feels like it would burst, it is full to overflowing with joy ! " I know not whether it were delight at my communication, or what it was ; but the old mule began to rare and buck, and it became a serious matter with me how I should ever get safely landed upon firm ground once more. And as I was in this predicament, I heard the door open, and Brandon's cheery voice exclaim : " What in the world, Crabtrie, are you and old Fightin' Jack cutting up such monkey-shines about? That old mule, will kill you if you don't look out ! " But I managed to get loose from Iiim about that time, and mounted the steps with the intention of returning into the house ; but at that moment I felt my head swim — my joy had been too much for me — I began to whirl, and in a second I fell senseless upon the floor. A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 153 CHAPTER XXIII. They took me into the house and put me in bed, where I soon regained consciousness, and where I slept that night the sweetest, soundest sleep I had enjoyed in months. The first thing I heard next morning was Aunt Dinah's voice, as she came to my room with my breakfast. " I is brought you your breakfus, chil'. Here hit is, warm and nice. I is fried you a piece of chicken, with lots of grease on it, jist like I likes hit myself; and here is some milk toast and waffles. Wake up and eat urn while dey is hot." I turned over and yawned. " Aunt Dinah, what happened to me last evening? My head is a little muddled. Ain't it turned awfully cold ? " " La ! Mars Napoleon, you carried on like a wild man, and fell down in a fit, and we had to bring you in and put you to bed. I thought you had took de feber and war a dyin' right off, but de doctar said it war nuthin' but a faintin' spell. Yes, sar, it is awful cold. We had a black frost last night what killed de 'tater vines and de tomartuses black, and when I heard dat Dan war gettin' well, I went straight down to de meetin'-house and shouted till daybreak. I did. Mars Na- polean, for I nebber felt de glory ob de Lord so powerful in all my life before." I ate the breakfast which the kind old soul had brought me, with a greater relish than the reader might believe, and after dressing myself, went down-stairs. Little Dan was very much better, and wanted panther stories right away. Just how much joy it gave to tell them to him, no one will ever know, who has not had some loved little one snatched back from the arms of death, and restored to them again. For three long days I did not leave "inm. When my own imagination became exhausted, I sent up to grandma's and got Ethel's old story-books, and read them to him to the little fellow's unfailing delight. The heavy frost had put an end to the spreading of the fever. Many who had it at the time died, but there were no new cases after this, and we began to have peace of mind once more. In a few days General Lane and Ethel were expected home 154 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. from Virginia, and I went down to the Mounds to meet them. As they sprang from the cars, Ethel ran up, and throwing her arms around my neck, kissed me. " Oh, how glad I am to find you alive still. Cousin Crab. ! I thought many and many a time I should never see you any more." Bless her little soul ! the tears were in her eyes as she said it. And then the general came forward and grasped my hand. "Well, Crab., old boy," said he, "I am truly glad to see you alive again and hearty ! We could never have stood your loss, my man, the parish would have been bankrupt had you died. But how about grandma ? Why did she not come to meet us?" There was an anxious look on the general's face, so I an- swered as quickly as possible : «' The old lady is hale and hearty, sir. She wanted to have a good dinner ready for you when you came, so she remained at home to get it ready. She did good work during the fever, and proved herself a veritable heroine. I hope, General, that you had a fine time in Virginia ! " He took me aside a distance, as if he wished to tell me a secret of importance, then said : " If you ever meet tlie devil, Crabtrie, I wish you would say to him for me, that if he wants an improvement on his present plan of running hell, he should place all his victims oflf at a great distance, and then let tliem know that their friends and loved ones are suffering and dying and that they can do nothing to relieve their pain. It's a vast improvement, sir, over the old orthodox hell." I assured the general that if I ever met his satanic majesty, I would not fail to give him the advice he desired me to give; and after this little piece of pleasantness, we drove back home where grandma had dinner waitin g for us. Oh, how happy we were to be back in our old places again with so many loved ones left us ! That afternoon as we were sitting on the front gallery, the general and I smoking our cigars, the old man asked me to tell him all about the terrible time we had just passed through ; and I did so in an abbreviated fashion, keeping my own hero- ism as much in the background as possible. When I told him of the death of Howai'd Sayer, he said : " When Howard died, Crabtrie, the noblest man in Madi- son Parish passed -away ! We shall never see his like again ! My heart was wrapped up in that boy — but it could not be — A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 155 it could not be ! Well, it is not the first time I Lave been disappointed in my life." By and by, he asked me to tell him all about Mrs. Brews- ter's death ; and as I told it to him just at the reader witness- ed it, I saw he was greatly moved. As I closed, he said : " So she found them at last, did she, Crabtrie ? I always knew she would. It is better thus — far, far better thus ! " The next day the Rankin family got back from the North, the young ladies looking as rosy as so many June peaches. The second day after their arrival I met Brandon at the Mounds and inquired of him : " What did old man Rankin say to you the other day when you met him at the train ? I heard you had some conversation with him. Does lie still entertain designs of cowliiding you ? " The doctor broke forth into a hearty laugh, and then re- plied : " Crab., the old major fairly embraced me when we met, and assured me that I might have all three of the girls if I wislied. He liad read a complimentary article of me in a Northern paper, and he was profuse in his congratulations ; went so far as to say that it was an honor to have been born in the same County with me. It's all right now, Crab., and I won't have to get a dugout to cross the bayou every time I pass his house. I am glad of it, for it would have put me out teiTibly in the cold winter time." " Doc," said I, slapping him on the shoulder, " I haven't taken a drink with yon in four long montlis. We have been too busy to stop to drink in all that time. What do you say ? Let's go over and get a drink, and then go down and spend the afternoon and evening with the Rankins." So we went over and had our drink, and I am sure that the most ultra temperance folks will forgive this one, when they remember wbat noble work our doctor had done in the last four months. 156 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXIV. One year has passed since the events recorded in the last chapter took place, during which time our friends have re- mained in statu quo, and it is now tlie first of December, 1879. During that time no changes worthy of record have trans- pired. Brandon had put in his usual time courting tlie girls; a few more gray hairs had come into the general's head ; Miss Ethel had grown into quite a young lady, but her father would not admit tlie fact ; old Fightin' Jack had become more sedate and less belligerent on account of approaching old age and the kind usage of his young master ; and little Dan had passed to his ninth birthday, and is as loving and as good as ever. The year of 1879 was a glorious year for us: it will be re- membered a long time as our " great harvest year." Dame Fortune, after having given us such a time as 1878, had decided to turn her wheel a little and deal more kindly by us, and in consequence gave us the season of 1879, which was the most productive and prosperous our people had ever experienced. Cotton grew and yielded as cotton had never grown and yielded before. One acre produced that year as much as two had formerly done. The planters all made money, an unusual tiling for them, and the negroes came out ahead. There was joy and merry-making throughout the whole land. Brandon instituted a series of parties that kept the young folks in con- stant glee. • He was the centre of all tlie fun and life, and kept the ball rolling as it had never rolled before. Things were in this happy state when one day, early in December of 1879, as I was stopping at Major Bankin's and making myself agreeable to the three young ladies, I received a letter from some old college friends at Richmond, Virginia, which was destined to change my local habitation and my entire mode of life for many months to come. The letter stated in sulistance that a party of six gentlemen in that city had united themselves into a joint-stock company, with a small capital, for the purpose of organizing a Southern literary magazine, which was to be called the " Southern Literary Monopolist ; " that they had used their influence to get me the position of editor-in- chief, with a salary of one hundred dollars a month ; that they were satisfied from my Harvard honors that I was tlie man for Ae place, and that they awaited my early answer. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 157 This letter, as can well be imagined, set me wild with excite- ment, and I straightway accepted the offer ; and that very night sat up till three o'clock in the morning, writing the three first chapters of n novel which was to begin with the first number of the Monopolist. The next day I went around our little community, telling the good news that had befallen me. I was to leave for Virginia in a few days, and grandma, Ethel and Brandon, planned to give me a big party at the gen- eral's house the evening before my departure. The noble old general, when he heard of my good fortune, took me aside, and handing me a check for three hundred dollars on the Yicks- burg Bank, said : " Crabtrie, here is a check for three hundred dollars, which amount I lend you to fix yourself up a little bit. You have always kept yourself remarkably neat considering your chances, but your clothes are getting a little old and worn, and I would not have you looking ' seedy ' when you go to Rich- mond. Remember, sir, you will meet some of the finest people in the world in that town, and you must be on your mettle. I am not afraid of your ability to take a first-class stand any- where you may go, but you need new clothes, and I hope you will cash that check and get 'em in Vicksburg." So I went over to that town the day before the party, and fitted myself out in a style that would have put Solomon in all his glory to shame ; and the night of the party given in my honor, I was dressed in a brand new swallow-tail, that fit me to a T, and which caused all the folks, even old Aunt Dinah, (who had come at my especial invitation, wliich I delivered through Dan), to say that 1 was the very handsomest man ever seen in Madison Parish. I danced with all the girls, young and old, and heard more nice tilings said about methan I had heard in years. Little Dan was there, and his eyes were bright and his cheeks were rosy with life. The little fellow was prouder of my honor than I was myself, and that night before he left for home, he told me to be sure to write some panther stories for him in my magazine. I am proud to say that I established a child's corner in the Monopolist especially for his sake, the stories in which must have made many a sedate person open their eyes very wide. When supper came on, the old general, in answer to a toast given in my honor, said some nice things about me that made my heart swell with unwonted pride. He spoke in glowing words of his young countryman who was going forth to make a name for himself, and who was sure to reflect honor upon his native parish. There Wfts mucli cheering and baijd-sbaking 158 . A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. when he was through, and I found myself the lion of tlie occasion and a veritable hero. The next day, as I left for Virginia, I found the small plat- form at Mounds crowded with friends who came to see me off, and to bid me a parting God-speed.; and if I were to try to repeat all the nice things they said to me, it would take up more pages than I have to spare. But soon the train rushes into tlie depot and stops, the engine whistles, the bell rings, Brandon hugs me for the last time, the train moves off, and in two days I am safely landed in Richmond, Virginia, as the editor-in-chief of the Southern Literary Monopolist. Now it is not my purpose to give you a lengthy description of all my victories and honors in the noble city of Richmond. I shall simply state that my first novel, " A Woman's Sor- row," set all the girls to weeping so, that the price of pocket- handkerchiefs rose to double what it had formerly been where- ever the Monopolist circulated, and that the dealers in those articles offered me a large sum if I would write another novel just like it ; that my scientific article entitled the " Toe-nails of Creation," which ran through six numbers, set all my friends into loud applause, and caused two of my readers to experience an entire revolution in their belief, (I think it scarcely worthy of note that the scientists elsewhere pronounced it sad non- sense) ; and lastly, I wish to state, that my poem " The Mock- ing-bird," was copied and recopied through the Northern Press. These are a few of the honors and triumphs I received while editor-in-chief of the iaT-fa.m*tA Southern Literary Monop- olist, which soon took its place as the leading magazine of the South. But what words can I use to describe the kind reception the good people of Richmond gave me ? They toasted me and dined me and feasted me till my heart and stomach were alike full. The girls were constantly talking of my novels and my poems, and speaking in the most gloyffng -terms of tlie brilliant young Louisiana cotton planter, who wds gifted as a literary light, but who did not write for a living but siinply as a pas- time. For I must admit that I had made several casual re- marks about my horses and tenants and my Louisiana planta- tions, for which I hope the reader will forgive me ; for I had used the general's things so fr-eely and so long, that I began to believe that they belonged to me ; and I would have you dis- tinctly understand, madame, that when I start to lying there is always a little shadow of truth about what I have to say, while some of my friends insist on lying without the slightest foundation for it. So I hope j^ou will pardon this little jnCOHj A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 159 sistency of mine. For montlis I was abounding in good eat- ing and nice compliments. But do not tliink that I had forgotten my friends away down there in Madison Parish ! They had been true to me during my adversity, and now that prosperity had come to me, I re- mained true to them, and was always interested in anything that concerned their welfare. I kept up a pretty regular cor- respondence with Brandon, Ethel and little Dan, and from the general and Major Rankin I heard at long intervals, so it was in this way that I kept the run of things in Madison during my absence. I have all the old letters preserved in my trunk, arranged according to the date of their reception, and I And by giving here several of these I can advance the plot of my story with more rapidity than in any other way. Here is one dated May the 1st, 1880, and which reached me on May the 3rd of the same year. It is from Brandon, and runs thus : " Mound Station, May Isfc, 1880. " N. WAKEiNGTOiir Cbabteie, Esq., " Editor-in-chief of the Southern Literary Mnnopolisi, '■ Bichmood, Virginia. " Deab old boy : — The May number of the Monopolist reached me yesterday, and I was delighted with it. 1 read the third part of the ' Toe-nails of Creation ' with the greatest interest, and I am proud to see that you have completely annihilated Darwin and Spencer — ■ they can scarcely have the courage to hold np their heads after this. Your novel, ' A Woman's Sorrow,' I tliink very fine ; but I find one serious fault with it, viz: you have six fine young girls in it, and you have now reached the XV chapter and you haven't given us a single wedding yet, and only given a very small amount of love- making. I never saw anyone more neglectful of his opportunities in my life. Put 'em in soon, Crab., old boy, or the other magazines will get ahead of you. You have got to have plenty of lovemaking to please the boys, and lots of marrying to tickle the girls ; and if you don't, you need never hope to make ihe Monopolist popular, not even with your powerful scientific articles. True, you kill off your characters in the most approved way, and I donht seriously whether Victor Hugo could surpass you in that respect, but you have got to add more marrying and lovemaking before you become truly popu- lar. I send you in this letter six dollars for two new subscribers to the Monopolist, in which I am greatly interested, and for which I wish long life and prosperity. " And now let me come to the main topic that has caused this ep.s- tle. I am engaged to be married to Ethel Lane. Her father knows of the engagement and has given his consent. I fought against mak- ing love to her for a long time, for I thought she was far too good for such a trifliug fellow as I, and I was not sure that I loved her with that deep love that every man should give the partner of his life. True, I loved her just as I loved all the girls, but I thought that was not enough; and I felt so kindly toward you and the old general for your favors to me, th{it J determined tp bebave Strictly 160 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. upriglit iu this matter, and not engage myself to Ethel Lane untill was sure that I loved her more than any woman I had yet met.f tried hard to keep my resolve, and for a long time succeeded ; but found out, one day, that she had a romantic feeling toward me [^ account of my actions in the fever of '78. It was more a child's hero^ worship than aught else, and the little miss was so coy and modest in her concealment of it, and her admiration for me was so true and noble, that it quite won me over, and I could not resist the temptation to tell her that I loved her, and that I hoped to make her very happy some day. And then I found that she endowed me with her first, deep, girlish love. I prayed God that I might be true to it, and be- come worthy of her. I went that same day and told the general about it, and asked his permission to marry his child, and he trem- bled a little as he answered : " ' Lord bless me ! Brandon, I thought she was nothing but a lit- tle child yet ; but now that I think of it, she will soon be eighteen years old. How time flies, sir ! You are not the man I should have chosen for my Ethel, Doctor, had I my choice ; but you are moder- ately industrious and sober, and belong to a good family, so Bankin tells me, and if the little thing loves you, why, you have my consent and my blessing.' " The wedding is not to take place for two years yet, as the gen- eral is opposed to young marriages ; and I have fully determined to be true to hier, and to act in every way worthy of her. She is very happy. Crab., and I believe I am too, but not happy like she is. It is her maiden fancy and she is foolish enough to believe that I am a, veritable hero, while am old, very old, my friend, and know the ways of the world too well. But, Crab., I think I love her enough to make her my wife, and I believe I can make her a good husband in the end. "Ah, old boy, you don't know how we miss you here at the Mounds, and how lonesome the old place is without you ! They gave a dinner at the Bankin's the other day, and it was a flat affair just because you were not there with your anecdotes. The Misses Ban- kin have given me up, and are devoting their attentions to the new telegraph operator at the Mounds. Oh, how I long to see yon, old fellow, and to hug you once again ! "Tour friend, " JoHir Beandon." This letter caused me to scratch my head and to do a little tljinking. Why, that young Brandon is a lucky dog after all to have won the heart of tlie finest girl I know and the heiress of one of the largest cotton estates in the South. I hope he will have sense enough to act rightly, and prove himself worthy of his good luck. Several days after this another letter, in a dainty little en- velope with the Mounds postmark on it, reached me, and when I opened it. what was my joy to find tb»t it was from Ethel, Jt ran thus ; A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 161 " Dear Cotjsin Crab: — The May number of the Sovihem Literary Monopolist reached us several days ago, and it was read with great interest both by papa and myself. I enjoyed your novel very much, and I soiled two clean pocket-handkerchiefs weeping over it. I am not certain that I understand the ' Toe-nails of Creation,' but I am sure it is very fine, and papa says you are making a name that will last. Grandma makes me read everything in the Monopolist that you wrote, though much of it puzzles the old lady mightily, and many a time I have seen her scratching her head trying to take it in. She often asks me to explain a passage when it gets too deep for her, but I am as much at a loss as she ; only I am sure it is very fine, and that you are making a name for yourself. " And now I most tell you a great secret, which is the main cause for my writing this letter. I am engaged to be married ! Don't that sound strange, Cou^n Crab ? I have found my hero at last, and he is a sure enough hero. Oh, he is so brave and noble and good ! I don't think there is another such fine fellow in all the world, with the exception of you, of course. And I love him with 'all my heart and all my soul and all my life.' You know I said to you when I was a little thing that I conld never love a man unless he were very brave and very noble. Now my hero is the bravest man that ever lived, and as noble as the knights of old. Now you mnst not say anything to anyone about this letter, for there is no one in the world but you to whom I would write thus. Yon know who my hero is, so I need not tell you his name — I am scarce worthy to write it. Ah, Cousin Crab., I am happy — so happy ! " Be sure to send the Monopolist regularly to our address, and papa says collect the subscription price from him through the bank as often as you feel like it. Good-bye for this time, " Your loving little cousin, " Ethel." Indeed ! ! Now was not that a nice letter for an old bach- elor to have received ? Well, they will do it, and it's no use for me to be bothering my old head about the matter. Let them settle their own love affairs after their own fashion. But then, it does sound queer to hear her talking about that rascal Brandon in such a way. I wish I could believe in a hero once more ! Well, there are many worse fellows in this world than Brandon. So after this fashion I reflected, and put the letter away to be answered in due time. About a week after this there came a letter in little Dan's boyish hand, thanking me for some maple-sugar, chestnuts and other things which I had sent him a short time before. It ran thus: " Dear Mk. Crabtrie : — I write to thank you for the Maple schougar and chestnuts which you were so good as to send me. I enjoyed them very much, and I want to see you very much. I read the stories in the Child's corner of the magazine, and think them very nice. I showed a copy to Aunt Dinah t'other day and she said 162 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. tell you that you ouglit to have manners 'nuf to put more clcs' on the folks on the hack. Old Fightlu' Jack is well, and is getting very genttle and never tries to kick anybody now. I want to see you very much. " Your loving little friend, " Dan Selden. " p. S. Some of the chestnuts had worms in 'em." Ah me ! ah me ! How I would like to see the little fellow once more and take him in my arms ! The spelling, you viill see, is somewhat of an improvement over his last letter ; for it is nearly two years since then, and I myself had been giving him instructions therein ; and if he had not yet readied per- fection in that matter, it was owing largely to the fact tliiit I was far from perfect myself. Aunt Dinah's message to me, which may puzzle the reader to understand, was owing to the fact that our engraver had represented a party of old Gre- cian and Roman gods and goddesses on tlie front cover of flie Monopolist ; and had left them, as those individuals are usually represented, without too much clothing upon their backs. It was this fact that had brought down upon my head Aunt Dinah's righteous scorn. I valued that lady's good opinion too highly to forfeit it for any light matter, sol suggested to our engraver, when I went down-slairs next day, to dress Mr. Apollo in a swallow-tail coat and a pair of corduroy trousers, and that he should robe Miss Minerva in the latest style from Worth; but lie informed me that it was the classical taste of the country that we were appealing to, and that old Aunt Dinah would have to put up with those characters just as she found 'em. Ah me ! amid all my triumphs and honors I was becoming homesick, and wanted to be back in dear old Madison once more. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 163 CHAPTER XXV. About the first of June, 1880, I received a letter from Gen-, eral Lane, stating that he and Ethel would spend tlie month of July at Green-Briar, and that he wished me to join him there for a week or so. When the first of July came on I made all my arrangements to have the Monopolist attended to dur- ing my absence, and betook myself to the White Sulphur Springs, where I found the general and Ethel awaiting me. I did not feel able to spend more than a week at that fashionable resort, but during that period had so pleasant a time that I am not likely to soon forget it. My fame had reached there before me, and I was ofttimes pointed out as the author of " A Woman's Sorrow," and the writer of the celebrated series of scientific arlicles which were destined to revolutionize the gi-eat world of thought. The President happened to stop there for a few days about tiiis time, and it was hard to say which were the greater hero, he or I. Ethel had grown into a young lady, and was exuberant in spirits and rosy with health. She had many things to tell me of her hero, and how very happy she was, and 1 wished truly that her happiness might continue. The second day after I arrived tliere the general took me for a walk, and when we had gotten beyond the crowd, he said : " Crabtrie, do you need any money ? I know how fast young fellows will live when they get to town amongst other young bloods, and I thought you might have gotten behind in your accounts. If so, tell me what you need, and I shall give you a check for the amount." It was very good of the old gentleman to treat me thus, and it affected me more than I can say. But I had arranged to have a surprise in store for him which was destined to make him open his eyes wide. During my stay in Richmond I had managed to economize sufiiciently to save up three' hundred dollars for the express purpose of paying him back his last loan to me. I had the amount with me at the time, and it was with pride that I pulled it out of my pocket and said : " It is very kind and noble of you to wish to help me, but instead of being in need of your aid now, 1 have brought you three hundred dollars which I have been able to save from my 164 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. salary, and with whicli I wish to pay you back the amount I borrowed of you last December. Here it is." I handed him the money, but he trembled greatly and re- fused to take it. " Why. Crabtrie, my boy," said he, and there was a tremor in liis voice, " I never expected you to pay that back again ! I intended you to have a grand time in Biclimond, to live like a gentleman should ; and here you have been depriving and stinting yourself just to pay me back, when you knew I did not need the money. I have always looked upon you, sir, as my own son, and my pride in you has been greatly strengthened in the last year, and it is a joy to me to help you. I have plenty — more than enough. For God's sake, don't make me take that money ! " I saw that he was greatly agitated, so I insisted no further on his taking the iimuunt. I wished to talk to him about Brandon during our walk, and I thought I might learn the true state of affairs; but all I could get out of him was that he did not approve Brandon's conduct in tlie last few weeks, and that lie did not think he was acting just as he sliould do. But he would give me no particu- lars, and soon changed the subject, and I knew him too well to make the attempt again. Soon, too soon, my happy week was up, and I returned to Richmond to take up my work anew. But the heat of the city was oppressive, and when I had finished all the work on the August number, I betook myself to Siilem, wliere I spent two weeks with John and Frank Warrington, of whom I have before spoken as remaining representatives of the Warrington family, but who do not properly enter the plot of this story. About the first of September I returned to Richmond again, being much refreshed in body and in mind. About this time a painful state of affairs forced themselves upon my recognition, whicli I was at first unwilling to admit. While 1 was making a big name for myself through the Mo- nopolist, and while the ladies were feasting me and toasting me, it became apparent that the public were not subscribing to the magazine with that zest which had been anticipated, and that I was making a reputation at the expense of the purses of my friends. I could scarcely look this fact in the face at first, and wlien it was presented forcibly to me one day by our busi- ness manager, I informed him that things would improve as fall came on, and instructed him to give a chromo to each new subscriber, and to offer a music-box to the person who would send us tlie largest list of new subscribers. /'' A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 165 But the cliromos and music-box, though offered in the most gaudy print, failed to have the desired effect ; and about tiie first of December our business manager asked me to go over our subscription list and other accounts with him, which I, with much reluctance, consented to do, for like all lazy people I had a dislike to looking difficulties square in the face. Our exam- ination of these accounts disclosed a sad state of affairs. Tlie Monopolist had been running through a whole year now, and its receipts had paid only about one-tliird of its expenses. I had bought several articles from European celebrities at a higli price, wliich greatly increased the amount of our liabilities ; and now there was only one way left out of our difficulties, and that was to pay our indebtedness out of the funds of the joint- stock company, and then to discontinue the magazine. There was another event which transpired about this time which had much to do in bringing me to this conclusion. I had had the " Toe-nails of Creation " printed and bound in book form, and copies of it sent to periodicals in this country and in Europe expecting a favorable reception for it ; when, what was my horror, to find that the best periodicals, without one excep- tion, condemned it with scathing criticism, and pronounced it only fit for savages to read. This so crushed me, that tlie day we got out our December number of the Monopolist, I had a meeting of the members of the joint-stock company called, and proposed that we discontinue the magazine. My proposition was accepted with unusual willingness on tlie part of my friends, who had long understood its true standing; and after the amount of our liabilities was ascertained, they assured me that they were happy to get off so lightly. And then, sad to relate, the Monopolist was discontinued, pocket-handkerchiefs fell to their former price, and there was no longer so great weeping in the land. True, the Monopolist was discontinued, but I have pr^erved the old numbers with religious care, and even to this day weep as I read and re-read the chapters of "A Woman's Sorrow," which I had just time to conclude ; and it has always been a wonder to me how this stupid world could have been so dull as not to recognize the great worth and power of my " Toe-nails of Creation." All me ! did it not treat Dante and Homer and all the great men so in their day ? Long, long after I am dead and buried, I feel confident that the " Toe- nails of Creation," (two copies of which I have placed in the public library at Washington), will receive its due estimate, and that the name of N. Warrington Crabtrie will go down the ages with the great of every land. I parted with my friends in Richmond on the best of terms. 166 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. They recognized that the Monopolist had been a failure through no fault of mine, and there was the best of feeling existing be- tween us. Before I left Richmond, one of my friends gave me a mastiff pup, whicli I named Hero, and which I took home with me. The dog must have had some Newfoundland blood in him, for he was jet black, but in form and strength he was a perfect mastiff. I shipped him on ahead of me by express, and he reached the Mound the day before I got there. I ai'rived at home on the 23rd of December, just in time to eat Christmas dinner at the general's house ; and I am sure, that in all the State of Louisiana, there could not have been found a happier man. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 167 CHAPTER XXVI. Mention was made in an early chapter of this narrative of two old negroes who would enter the story at a later date, and now the time has come for them to enter upon the scene. They are Uncle Eli ^nd Aunt Emily, and their little cabin is located at the border of General Lane's plantation. I had known the couple from my earliest youth, and in passing that way often stopped to have a talk with them. " La, Mars Napolean, we's been livin' on dis yere plantation 'fore de stars fell. We corned here wid Gin'ral Lane's daddy when Gin'ral Lane war only a boy ten yars ole. We comed from ole Virginy, sar. It's been a long time since de stars fell, ain't it, Mars Napolean ? " Now, when the good reader recalls the fact that the stars fell (?) in 1833, he will readily see that the old couple had been living in their present home a long while. So to please old Aunt Emily I would make the calculation for her, and tell her about how long she had been living in the parish. That was her only way of reckoning time, from " when de stars fell." " Yes, Mars Napoleon," she would continue, "I knowed you when you war nuthin' but a baby, an' I knowed your ma an' your pa an' your Uncle George Warrington, what war de finest gemman what eber libed in de parish. An' your ma war as nice a lady as eber I saw, only she went and married your pa, who war nuthin' but a school-teacher, an' dey cut up terribly abouten it, all de Warrington folks did. But you ain't one bit like you pa. Mars Napoleon ; you's a Warrington, ebery drap ob blood in you is Warrington blood. You think we poor niggers ain't got no sense, but we kin tell quality folks from common white folks de mi nit we sees 'um." I would take off my hat to the old woman and make her a mock bow when she would reach this point, but it failed to have its desired effect, and she would continue : " I knows you ain't got no money, an' dat you has to libe around here an' da, but you's got som'tin' what money can't buy — ^you's got a good heart an' Warrington blood in your veins, an' dats more dan most folks is got. But la. Mars Napoleon, you ain't got a little piece ob tobacky you could gibe to a poor ol' nigger, is you ? " 1C8 A PEIKCK OP GOOD FELLOWS. I did not chew myself, but at times when my friends would offer me of their abundance I would break off a piece, and save it for the good old soul. Long before the war the old couple had been considered too old to work in the field, and had been given an easy bertli around the house ; the old woman to attend to the cows, the old man to hoe a little in the garden ; but after the surrender, they had to go to work again in dead earnest, which went rather hard with them. But they kept a bold heart, and a cheerful spirit, and a strong faith in " de Lord," and came bravely through their difficulties. I sfopped there the day after I returned from Virginia to get a glass of water. Little Dan liad failed to come to see me at the general's, and I thought it very strange, and started out in search of him. As the old woman handed me the water I inquired : "How is your health now. Aunt Emily? Do your bones ache to-day ? and when are we to have our next rain ? " For years she had been my unfailing barometer. " It will rain in short time now. Mars Napoleon, for my jints is been painin' me powerfully here ob late, an' I knows it's gwine to rain in a day or two." " Well, how did you get along while I was in Virginia? Is the Lord still good to you and Uncle Eli ? Do you have even- ing prayers regularly now-a-days ? " "De Lord is sarbin' us mouty good. Mars Napoleon. You knowd our ol* brinly cow what had a calf in de spring? We war sel'in' butter from lier, an' a-makin' a liben offen her ; but 'tother day she took de holler-horn, and we cut her tail off to cure her, but she died all de same, an' we mout a-starbed, but for de goodness ob de Lord. Would you ha' believed. Mars Napoleon, dat same night our red heifer had a calf? an' da, sar, war de glory ob de Lord." " I heard that you were burned out not long ago. How did you manage to get straightened up so soon?' " De bredren all gibe us a little, an' dey fixed us up dis cabin. Dey fixed it up leanin' moutily, an' for a long time it looked as if it war a-gwine to drap ; an' we went to meetin' an' axed 'um to come and fix it up agin, but dey kept puttin' it off, till at last we quitaxin' 'um, an' started to prayin' to de Lord to come and fix it up Hisself. We had ev'nin' prars for one week, den a wind camed and propped it up jist as you sees it. Now what does you call dat, Mars Napolean ? " I told her that I called that a miracle, and that it was a pity that they did not happen oftener now-a-days. Then we changed the conversation to her chickens and her garden. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 169 But it was of little Dan Selden that the old couple loved most to talk As I have before stated, their cabin was situated at the border of General Lane's and Selden's plantations, and little Dan liad long since found them out in their poverty, and had won their hearts just as he had won the hearts of all of us. Atler talking for awhile on other topics, I inquired : " Have you seen anything of little Dan Selden lately ? " " We sees him nearly ebery day, sar. He rides by here to carry Mr. Jim Longley som'tin' to eat, an' when he's got any t'ing left ober he gibes it to us. Poor Mr. Jim is almost crazy now, sar ; his eyes is bloodshot, and he looks like a wild man. He won't take nutliin' to eat from nobody but Dan. He would a stiirved long ago if Dan had not fed him." Soon Uncle Eli came to the front fence, and Aunt Emily got her hoe and started to working in the garden. After I had saluted the old man, I asked him : "Have you seen anything of little Dan Selden pass this way lately ? I am out in search of him, and I thought you might have seen him." "Yes, Mars Napoleon, I saw him pass here not mor'n half an hour ago. He war gwine^own to Mars Jim Longley's house to carry him some vituals, an' it's a'most time for him to be comin' back agin. Please, sar, git down a minit, an' wait, and he'll be comin' back agin, for da is som'tin' a weigh- in' on my mind, an' I would like to talk wit' you abouten it, Mars Napoleon." " Well, I believe I will rest till he comes along back. What is it. Uncle Eli, that is worrying you? Come, now, and tell me all about it." " Well, Mars Napoleon, I's but a poor ig'orant ole nigger, and I hardly knows how to begin. You war a axin' ob me if I'd seen Dan Selden pass here lately, well, it's abouten him dat I wants to talk. I lubs dat chil' mor'n any t'ing in de world. He's been so good to us poor ole niggers we jist couldn't keep from lubin' him. He am an angel ob de Lord — if daeber war one — he am an angel ob de Lord ; an' he's pa am an angel ob de debil, as sho' as you am a libin'. Mars Napoleon, old Mr. Selden is an angel ob de debil ; and when an angel ob de debil gets to trainin' one ob de Lord's angels, dars gwine to be trou- ble for de angel ob de Lord." The old darkey began to scratch his head and to seem at a loss what to say next. I thought I would help him out, so I said : " You mean to say. Uncle Eli, that little Dan is one of the sweetest souls that ever lived, that old John Selden is very far 170 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. from being an angel, and tliat if he keeps on training Dan in liis ways, tlie sweet little fellow may be changed into some- thing else ? You and I both love the little boy. Well, what are we going to do about it? " '* Dat is presactly what I means. Mars Napoleon, and I means to pray to de Lord to change it. I's too poor an' no 'count to do anyt'ing myself, but I trusts in de Lord, an' de Lord will do it, sar, as sho' as you am a libin', de Lord will do it. Ole Mr. Selden am al'ays talkin' abouten makin' money to his cliil', an' he puts him in de sto' to clerk, wliere he bars lie niggers a cussin' and a swariti' and fightin' from niornin' till night, and how de Lord am eber gwine to sabe de chil' am a mystery to me. But I's a trustin' in de Lord, I's trustin' powerfully in de Lord." I could sympathize fully with the poor old darkey. He had learned to love the little fellow, just as I had done, on account of liis goodness and liis loving ways, and now he was dreading wiiat old Selden's training might result in to the boy. I did not seek to console him, for I knew that his implicit faith would do him more good than any words of mine ; indeed, af- ter all was said, I was the one that needed most of all the consolation. " So you are trusting in the Lord to save the child from his father's teachings ? You have more faith than I have. Uncle Eli." " Yes, sar, de Lord will do it, I knows dat fur true an' sar- tin. I's but a poor ol' nigger, an' I can't do much for him in dis life, but I's told him many a time dat I coul' die for him. 1 has visions. Mars Napoleon, an' I h'ars roarin' waters, an' I sees floatin' trees, an' ober dem all I sees little Dan, an' 'neath dem all I sees de arms ob de Lord — de arms ob de Lord. I don't know how it is. Mars Napoleon, but I knows I'm gwine to die fur dat chil' some day, for I sees it in visions. But I ain't skeered, sar, fur 'neath de mad, rushin' waters, I sees, eberywhere, dearms ob de Lord." As long as the old darky would confine his talk to his love for little Dan, and of his dread of his present training, I was in sympathy with him ; but now that he had gotten off upon visions and rushing waters and the arms of the Lord, he had passed my comprehension, and I told him so and laughed at the old man. "You don't beliebe dis ole nigger, sar. Jist wait an' see. I neber had a vision, sar, but wliat it came true. I neber yet had a warnin' from de Lord but what it war sho' to happen. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 171 Wait an' see, Mars Napoleon, before you laughs at de ol' nig- ger — wait an' see." Dan rode up in a few minutes on his way home. A look of deep joy and pleasure spread over his whole face at sight of me, and in a moment he was in my aims. He had grown some in the year I had been absent, but the Cupid's bow was still upon his lips, and the love-light still shining in his eyes. Bidding the old darkies good-evening, I rode on down the road with Dan. " Why did you not come down to General Lane's to see me, Dan ? Did you not know that I had returned ? " " Yes, Mr. Crabtrie, I knew you were there, and I wanted to come very much to see you, but papa don't let me go to General Lane's house now. They had a big fuss about some hands, and. papa has not let me go there in a long time. I hate it, for I liked 'em all mightily there." So the outbreak had come at last! Ah me ! wliy should our little ones be made parties to our hate? Later on, as I was approaching Selden's house, Dan asked me what I had brought him from Virginia. " I brought back with me several things, Dan, and you may have your choice. Let me name them ovor to you : Ten pairs of slippers, presents from the young ladies of Richmond ; twenty-three pen-wipers, from the same parties; two dozen paper-cutters, also presents ; several hundred novels, sent in for review ; etc., etc., etc." Dan looked at me in a disappointed way, and said : " I don't want any of 'em. Didn't you bring something else?" " Hold, Dan, I had almost forgotten. I brought back witii me the finest mastiif pup in all the country. His name is Hero, his sire weighed one hundred and twenty-eight pounds, and he saved the lives of four men and two cliildren, and " I had not finished when Dan interrupted me. " I want him, Mr. Crabtrie, I want him bad ! I was readin' the other day about a mastiff dog what saved the life of a whole family, and I said then I would rather have one than anything in the world." " Well then, Dan, as your father does not allow you to go to General Lane's any more, why, just meet me at old Uncle Eli's cabin to-morrow as the sun is going down, and I will bring Hero to you." And then bidding him good-bye, I rode back again to the general's house. 172 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXVII. The next day was Christmas day, and there was a large gatliering at the general's in honor of my return. I was greeted with a warmth from my friends that more than com- pensated me for the collapse of the Monopolist, and the ship- wreck of my literary hopes. Brandon rode out in the morn- ing and fairly embraced me when we met, and there were many pleasant passages of fun between us, which I have not space now to relate. By and by. Major Eankin, his wife and his three fine daughters made their appearance. There was to be a big Christmas dinner at the general's that day, and grand- ma had killed two of her largest gobblers, and made ever so many other preparations for the occasion. And now we are seated at the merry Christmas dinner and the talk is bright and lively. My friends have been joking with me about my literary cai-eer in Virginia, and it is the gen- eral's merry voice that now exclaims : "How did it happen, Crabtrie, that you killed Alphonso de Jones, in " A Woman's Sorrow," with such fine taste, on Jan- uary 23rd; and then, how did you manage, I say, to have him up and at a grand ball on the 3rd of June of the same year? " " Indeed," replied I, "did I do anything so miraculous as that? I remember now, that. I thought at the time I was making Mr. De Jones attend that ball, that I was doing some- thing improper, but I could not recall then exactly what it was. I have found out now." "Well, Crab.," replied the general, "why was it improper for him to attend that ball? " " Why, sir," answered I, " I believe in every man attend- ing closely to the proprieties of life, and I must admit that it was very improper in Alphonso de Jones to attend a grand ball in less than five months after his own funeral. I hope lie will do so no more." "Ah, Crab., you are a sad case! I was in hopes that when you had killed Alphonso you would let him rest in peace, but when you had him up and dancing around in less than five months after his death — which you described in a most pathetic way — it rather startled our small neighborhood here. Now, sir, I wish to give you a small piece of advice, and it is this: A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 173 Kill oflF as many of your characters as you wish — it is a little against true art, but it is a trick that old William Shakespeare was fond of, and so long as you sin in such good company as thatf it does not matter — ^but, Crab., when you once kill 'em, keep 'em dead, and don't have 'era dancing around. I assure you, it don't look nice." I had long since found out, to my dismay, the fafal mistake I had made in regard to Alphonso de Jones, for it had afforded the youth of Richmond much fun at my expense, but I was in hopes that my friends at home had not found out the mistake. But alas ! my hopes were in vain. Tlie doctor soon took the joke in hand, and with Major Rankin's aid, they kept it pretty hot for me for about half an hour ; then they changed the sub- ject of conversation to my "Toe-nails of Creation," much to my regret, for I had already heard enough of that famous work. But, by and by, dinner was over, the afternoon came on, and the guests had all departed. It was then, as Ethel and I were sitting out on the front gallery, for it was warm even at Christmas, she said to me : " Don't you think he is a splendid fellow. Cousin Crab. ?" " My dear little cousin, will you be more definite, and tell me what ' he ' you refer to ? " " I refer to my own hero, sir. To me there is only one hero in all the world, and you know who that is ! " " Ah, he is a hero to you still, is he, my little one ? Don't I tliink him a splendid fellow ? Now isn't that a nice question to ask me after he has stolen the heart of my little one ? I think he is one of the worst rascals tlie world ever saw." She came up to me and kissed me. " You are funning sir. I know you like him as much as I do. Cousin Crab. He is a true .hero, he is a noble fellow ! " I let the little miss have her own way. Too soon she would discover how little heroism is left in this world of ours. Soon tlie day had passed to witliin a few minutes of sun- down, when I remembered my promise to Dan Selden ; and after borrowing a market basket from grandma, I placed ti.e mastiff pup in it, and passed on my way down the road to Uncle Eli's cabin. Dan was already there to meet me, and at the sight of the great black bundle of fur that I brought him he went straightway into ecstacies of delight. He took the pup in his arms and hugged it to him. " He is -a fine one, Mr. Crabtrie, a sure enough fine one, and I know I am going to love him more than anything I have got — more than I do old Fightin' Jack. Here, Hero, you fine, nice old dog, jou ! " 174 . A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. Indeed, he was proud to get the dog, as he well might be, for there was not a finer one in all the State of Louisiana. I had remembered to get the volume of tlie American Encyclo- pjedia containing the article on Mastiffs from the general's bookcase, and I brought it with me to read to Dan. So, sit- ting out there on the rail fence surrounding Uncle Eli's cabin, I read it to the little boy. It interested him much to hear of the many brave and noble deeds that the race had done, and when I came to the part which told of how they would enter into deadly combats with tigers and lions, the little fellow's eyes opened wider and wider, and he could no longer keep his seat. ''Yes, my Hero," said he, hugging the puppy to him, "I wonder what brave thing you will do when you get grown! I know you are going to do something great and noble." We were sitting thus upon the fence talking of dogs and of their heroism, when we heard Uncle Eli's voice proceed- ing from the cabin door. "Good-evenin', Mars Napoleon, good-evenin' Mars Dan; we's about to hub' evanin' prars, won't you come in an' jine us?" A sudden whim took possession of me, and I whispered in Dan's ear : " Let's go in and hear wliat the old man has to pray for," and he Avhispored back : " All right." Now, good madame, you who have been complaining that your winter cloak did not cost as much as Mrs. Brown's, who lives across the way, and that the IJi'ussels carpets on your bed- room floors are a little worn, please join Dan Selden and me, and let us enter together into the cabin of these two old dark- ies, and see what good things they have for which to thank the Lord. The sun is just going down in clouds of flame.awiiy out in the west, and its last rays are flooding through the open door, and lighting the brown stalk of the cotton in tlie sur- rounding field in a sombre way. Around the house about a dozen hens are scratciiing, and not far off" the red heifer, which by God's goodness had lately had a calf, was tied to the rail fence. In the cabin itself is an old broken-down bedstead, covered with a ragged cover, but neat withal ; two old chairs, a broken safe and si dilapidated chest. This is the sum and sub- stance of their earthly goods. To this tiiey have added one priceless treasure, which but few of the richest possess — a con- tented spirit, and an implicit faith in the wisdom and the good- ness of God.' We are in the cabin now, and the old man and woman kneel down to pray. I bow my head, and Dan kneels down near A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 175 me, and instead of bowing his head he looks up at me, a won- derful glow of light coming just from the setting sun, shining upon his happy, boyish face, and causing it to fairly glow with light. Hero is under his arm, and in after years when I thought of him, it was always as he knelt there at " evenin' prars," with the light from the setting sun shining full upon his face. By and by, the melancholy, weird tones of the old darkey fell upon our ears, as he petitioned the great Giver of Life. " Oh Lord, we is but two poor, ole niggers, and we ain't much 'count fur nuthiri' ; but we is Dy chillun, an' we comes at de close ob dis day to thank De for all Dy goodness an' lobe to us, an' to ax De to contin'ar Dy lobin' kindness to'ards us. We ain't got beiy much, an' we don't kno' much, but we has got Dy lobe and Dy grace in our hearts, and we thanks De for 'em. Oh, Marsa, help us to do what am right all de time, 80 we may be Dy chillun al'ays, an' may get to hebben when we dies ! An' we axes De above all t'ings to keep Dy eye on de little chil' we lobes, and to keep him from damnation an' all harm. I's but a poor, ole nigger, an' I can't do nuthin' myself to save him ; but I's a trustin in de Lord — I's ti-ustin' powerfully in de Lord. I is seen Dy visions, I's heard de roarin' ob de waters, an' de crashing ob de flood, an' I knows it means som'tin terrible for de ole nigger; but I ain't skeei-ed, Marsa, fur 'neath de mad, rushin' waters, an' de blackness ob de flood, I sees eberywhar' de arms ob de Lord, an' I's trustin' in Dy goodness an' in Dy lobe — I's trustin' in de arms ob de Lord. So long as dey surrounds me, nuthin' can eber hurt me. Bless us all, O Lord, and keep us safely till we all comes home. Amen." As we rose there were great masses of flame out in the west, where the sun had just sunk to rest behind the bank of clouds. There was a holy light on Dan's face which I shall never for- get, and in my own heart there was such a feeling of calm and peace as I had rarely experienced before. The evening scene at the cabin, the bright happy face of my little friend, and the strange words of the old darkey had greatly touched me, and it was with a pleasant feeling that I bade tliem good-night, and retraced my steps once more to General Lane's abode. 176 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXVIII. As the spring of 1881 approached, Brandon's conduct be- came a subject of remark with all his friends. If there was any young man in the State who had good cause for happiness and rejoicing, that man was Brandon. He had a moderately good practice, he was young and healthy, he had the love of the finest girl in the parish, and was soon to be married to one of the lichest heiresses in the State. Yet with all this it was fast becoming apparent to us that he was not near so happy and contented as when he came penniless amongst us. For whole days at a time his happy smile would leave him entirely, and lie would mope around in a melancholy way that was dis- tressing to behold. I was reluctant, at first, to believe that anything was the matter with my friend ; but soon after my- return from Virginia, I was forced to admit to myself that he was far from being the jolly old boy I had left just a year before. Ofttimes I would ride to the Mounds and stop at his office for awhile and try to cheer him up. I would slap him on the shoulder in my old-time way, and beg him to tell me what was worrying him, so that I might share his sorrow with him ; but for a long time he evaded my question, and declared that he was just as happy as ever he had been, and that my apprehen- sions on his account were entirely groundless. But I knew him too well not to know that he was avoiding a confession ; and I had hopes that, by and by, he would confide fully in me, as it might be that I could relieve him of some of his distress. As April came on his depression grew more and more, and became a subject of even greater remark among the neighbors. It was rare that he would ever brighten up in his old-fashioned way, and it became evident to all that he was no longer our old, jovial, happy Brandon of former days. One day early in April, as I was passing the Mounds on my way to Major Rankin's, I stopped at his office for a few moments, and found him in one of his melancholy moods. I tried several of my newest and best anecdotes, which had met with unusual favor elsewhere ; but they only caused a faint, sickly smile to play over his face for a moment, which made his distress appear all the greater. I could stand it no longer ; my friend was suffer- ing, and would not offer to let me relieve him. I must know A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. Iff the cause of his sorrow. I went close to him, and putting my hand on his shoulder, said : " Brandon, you and I have been friends three years now, and when I was in distress you never failed to offer both con- solation and aid ; so I have come to you to-day, to ask you to let me make some return for your kindness. I know you are in distress, old boy, you can't deceive me about the matter ; and I love you too much, and you have been my friend too long, to allow me to let you suffer without some effort on my part to give you relief. Now, what is it, old fellow, can't I do something for you ? " He dropped into a chair in a listless way, and extending his hand to me, he said : " Ah, Crabtrie, my friend, it is very kind of you to wish to do something for me, and I appreciate it, I assure you I do ! But I think you will fail to give me the desired comfort. You wish to know the cause of my melancholy, and why I am not happy like I used to be? Well, I don't know that I can make you understand, for the thing is not quite clear even to myself; but so far as I know my ailment, I shall confide in you. When I first came to Madison, you and my other friends may have thought me fickle ; but there is one point in my nature you may have failed to notice, and that is that I have always held myself accountable unto myself in the strictest manner for all my doings. In other words, I have been in the habit through life of making a thorough examination of my character, and so long as I have believed that I have been true to myself, to that degree I have been happy. But here lately, Crabtrie, I have been weighing myself, and found myself false to my being. I have not been what I should — I have been false — I have not been true ! Now, the fact that I do not believe in a hereafter does not lighten my punishment in the least. My condemna- tion lies in my own conscience, and I find hell to-day in my own being, and brimstone is not needed to add to its fury. Do you understand what I am saying, old boy ? " "I can't say that I do, Doc," replied I; "you talk very much as if you had the dyspepsia. That is about as hot a hell as I know of." He paid no attention to my remark, but proceeded : "There are several things for whiirh I have to condemn my- self during my stay in this -parish. Tliey have been mainly caused by ignorance, and were unintentional, but I do not con- demn myself any less on that account. In the first place, I was wrong in departing from the regular rules of practice, and wrong in refusing to give, in moderation, the customary drugs 12 178 A PRINCE OF GOOD FEI.LOWS. of the country. At the time of Mary Brewster's death, I thought I was doing right in refusing to give her calomel ; but from my present experience of this swamp country, I now be- lieve that had I done so, I miglit have saved her life. It has been the same way wi(h scores of others. I have been forced to admit to myself that I was wrong in my theories and in my practice, to a certain degree, and I have been compelled to adopt the very drugs 1 once so strongly condemned. This of itself has been a cause of much mortification to me. It is not a very cheerful reflection to any true man that he may have caused the death of others tlirough ignorance. It is but a small degree of comfort to me to think that what I did, 7 did believ- ing it to be right." " But what I find most to condemn myself for," continued he, "is my engagement to Ethel Lane. I know now tliat I do not love her as a man should love the partner of liis life ; but alas ! I have found it out too late. 1 allowed myself to become engaged to her, and encouraged her affection for me, before I knew whether I loved lier enough to make her my wife, and that is why I condemn myself ho strongly to-day. If I did not enter judgment against my own manhood, the difli- culty would be easily surmounted. Marry her and have- an easy time the rest of my life, is what policy is saying to me all the time. But then steps in my conscience and says: 'Bran- don, you are a coward. You have chosen a soft, easy place, for which you can give no return, and for which you are in no way fitted. Sir, you are a coward and an humbug, the two most contemptible things in the world ! ' That is what my conscience is saying to me, day after day, and in that verdict all my peace of mind and self-respect has been taken away from me. Ah, Crabtrie, I am a miserable man ; a miserable man, indeed, and I know not how it will all end!" I tried to console him by telling him that there was no cause for self-condemnation in his actions in the case of Mary Brewster; that he had done exactly wliat he believed to be right at the time ; and that, believing as he did, he would have been false to do anything else. And as to Ethel, she would make him a splendid wife ; that it was not altogether necessary for a man to be madly in love with his wife in order to insure happiness ; that their chances for married felicity were largely enhanced because his love was sober and well-balanced. He listened to me patiently, but it was evident that my worldly consolation gave him no comfort; so I soon mounted my horse and passed on to Major Rankin's, trying to believe that all A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 179 would come around again, and that my friend would soon become his old self once more. But alas ! how sadly were all my hopes to be blighted ! He grew worse and worse, and soon it became known that he had taken to drinking and card-playing. Once he had ridden the full distance of that charmed circle around Walnut Bayou, af- ter once making which no man was ever after considered safe. General Lane heard about it, and had the engagement broken off between the doctor and Etliel, and refused Brandon admit- tance to his house. The thing cruslied poor Ethel — came very near killing her, in fact. Slie came to me tlie day afterwards wilh her eyes full of tears, and her heart full of sorrow, and begged me to talk with her father about the affair, and to try and see what I could do to straighten matters up again. I promised her to do so, though with a faint heart, and broached the subject to the general that same day. I might as well have been talking to a piece of steel. He informed me that he had given Brandon one chance for reform, which he had thrown away; and now, that he had neglected that opportu- nity, he would never be given a second one. He told me fur- ther that there was no possible chance of his relenting, and that Brandon would never be allowed to enter his house again. 1 took his answer just as he gave it, knowing well that nothing else could be done, and making it just as mild as I could, I told it to Ethel; but with all my modifications, it stabbed her to the heart. Just how much she suffered no one will ever know save those mortals who have loved some one better than their own lives, and then have been made to know that the loved one could never be anything more to them in this world. Ah me ! ah me ! let us ring the bell and drop the curtain over poor Ethel's sorrow. It is not a fit subject for the public gaze. 180 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXIX. After the engagement was broken off, the doctor became more bright and lively. But liis liveliness was not natural as it had formerly been, and instead of reassuring me, it caused me much trouble. The high spirits which he would now as- sume were evidently put on, and did not serve to deceive me in the least. I knew my friend was still in distress, and that things were far from well with him. I had made up my mind that, come what might, I would stick to him through thick and thin; and I'egularly, twice or thrice a week, I would ride over to his office and have a chat with him. He was the same kind, good friend as of old ; only he had lost all lieart and interest in life. He was just as attentive and watchful of his patients as ever. Many a time he would sit up all night with some poor old darkey, who was too poor to pay him for his services} and the passers-by might ofttimes have seen liim sitting, early in the morning, by the roadside, near some negro cabin, where he had watched through the night at tlie bedside of sickness. His goodness staid by him ■till the end. Our other physicians, as a rule, had refused to visit the darkies, except in cases where their fees were se- cured ; but Brandon went to see all who sent for him, ricli or poor. He waited upon them all with the same loving care. So long as lie had work to do he kept sober, patient, resigned ; but the moment his patients would be up and well, he would start at once upon his wild rides around Walnut Bayou. He never became truly bad nor corrupt. He would always stop to ease pain or sorrow ; he was always thinking of the welfare of others before his own good. It was his own life he was throw- ing away; had it belonged to another he would have been more careful of it. I went to him many times and begged him to reflect what he was doing ere it was too late. Each time he would prom- ise to do better and to act more worthily of himself, and soon the course of events so changed as to aid him in his resolve. As June came, the sickness among the negroes increased, and Brandon was busy all the time, and thus kept out of danger. I saw that he was attending to his patients with conscientious care, and I thanked God that my friend "'^s Still acting 9,s fi t,ri)0 ip^n. A PEINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 181 But he had become sadly neglectful of his own health and welfare. He was healing other men, but of himself he would not take the slightest care. When I reproved him for it, he said it did not matter what became of him. He was taking none of those precautions which are necessary to ward off sick- ness in tills malarial climate, and was riding night and day visiting the sick. One afternoon early in July, I was riding along the road witii him, and was urging upon him the necessity of taking better care of himself. He threw back his shoulders in his old- fashioned way, and in a cheerier voice than I had heard him use for months, he said: " Oh, you need not bother about me, Crabtrie, old boy. I am all right. I am too hard a pine knot for anything to kill me. You have often heard it said that if a doctor can live three years in this swamp, he is hardy enough to live here for ever. "Well, I have been living here more than three years now, and I am safe. You need have no further bother about me, my friend." His tone and spirits quite reassured me, and for the first time in six months I became truly easy in my mind in re- gard to my friend, and it was with a cheerful heart I bade him good-bye that afternoon. Three days later I stopped at his office again, and found him in bed with a raging fever. No one had been sent for, and Brandon was as little concerned about it as if it had been a slight chill. When I told him that he was in danger, he laughed at me, and said tliat nothing was the matter with him. I telegraphed to Vicksburg for a physician, and when he ar- rived, he said that Brandon was in a bad way, indeed. He had been having slight chills and fevers for more than a week, and had failed to take the necessary medicines, and as a natural consequence was now down witii this fever. When I asked the Vicksburg doctor about iiis case, he told me candidly that the chances were against his getting well, but that with his strong constitution he might recover. After the doctor from town had become installed, I rode out and got our good old nurse, Grandma Gray, and brought her back with me to assist in nursing Brandon. The physician gave us full directions as to how to give the medicines, and what to do with the patient, an9 then returned to attend the sick in his own town. But what was our surprise when the time came to give the sick man his medicines and he refused point-blank to take them ! For some time he gave no reason for his refusal ; then, when I urged it upon him, he 182 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. asked grandma to retire a few minutes, and when she had left the room, he said : " Crabtrie, I know what it is you are going to give me. It is calomel, and I will not take it. Do you remember when little Mary Brewster was dying three years ago, that I refused to give her this same drug ; and that I said to you at that time, that if I were in her place I would do exactly as I was doing in her case ? Well, sir, my time has come and I refuse to take a medicine which I declined to give to another. I be- lieved then that it would do no good. I think now that it would save my life, but I shall not take it. Even in death I shall keep my word ! " Ah me ! it had come to tliis. Our noble doctor liad refused a little girl a certain medicine years ago because he believed it would do her no good, and now that he thouglit it might save his own life he refused to take it. I argued the point with him for many hours. I told him that he had only done what was right in the first instance, since at that time lie did not believe in giving the drug ; but that now he thought differently, he was perfectly justifiable in taking it himself. He declined to look at it in that light. He had refused to skve a human life through ignorance, and now that his own life was at stake, he would not save it through means he had refused to others. In dying nobly himself by the same error by which he had caused the death of others, he might be cleansed of all stain, and might become brave, true and heroic once more. That was the way my dear friend was looking at the matter, and no words of mine would change him from his views. When I told grandma how things stood, she was horror- stricken , for she loved Brandon in spite of his late actions, and she still had hopes that he might amend his ways, and that it miglit become all right between Ethel and the doctor once more. The old lady declared that if we would allow her, she would force the medicine down his throat, whether or no, and I verily believe that had we given her the permission she would have tried to do so. Soon the physicians from Duck- port and Roundaway Bayou arrived and took charge of the case, and grandma and I retired to the capacity of nurses. And now that our noble doctor was dying to make amends to his conscience, all of his old cheery spirits returned to him once more, and in the very face of death he was smiling as he had not found heart to do in months. As I sat by liim nurs- ing him, with my heart weighed down with sorrow, he would laugh at me, and laugh at himself, and laugh at all the world in his old reckless way. Now that. he was making full expia- A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 183 tion for his past acts, peace of mind had come to him, and in his last hours we found once more the brave old boy of former days. Death could not frighten him, could not awe him, for to a brave man like him there was nothing dreadful in dying. Life alone was the awful thing. In the New Museum in the city of Rome there is a statue which has long been the wonder and the admiration of the world. It occupies the centre of the same room wliere the Marble Faun is to be found, and is the masterpiece of all tliis collection. No one knows the name of the sculptor who wrought the marvelous thing, for it came down from old Greek days, when men could do masterly work. It was known for hundreds of years as the " Dying Gladiator," but the best crit- ics are now agreed that it is simply a dying Gaul. In grace of form and power of expression it stands with the five master- pieces of the world. But there is something about the statue which is found nowhere else, and something that all the artists who have attempted to make copies of it have failed to catch. On the lips of the dying Gaul, mingled with the death agony, there is a wonderful smile — a smile of contempt of death. It is no trick of the sculptor, for no other artist has been able to catch it — ^it is simply a masterpiece of genius. During many days, one happy spring, I stood there by that dying Gaul, wondering at the power that could produce such strange effects, and the memory of it remained with me in after days. Now, as I sat by Brandon, and saw his life ebbing away, and heard him laugh at death, I tliought of the dying Gaul, and of the strange smile that played on his lips. Here, indeed, was a dying Gaul, in tliese latter days, whom no death nor agony could frighten, and who was laughing in the very face of death. Life had been a grave thing with him at heart, and when tlie conflict had become hottest, the smile left him for a time ; but death was nothing to him, and now that the battle of life was over, he was smiling at death. It is the way a hero dies ! There was no lack of nurses after his sickness became known, for the doctor was a general favorite, and the neigh- bors were kind. So on the second day, grandma returned home, promising that she would come again if she were needed. She found there a sad state of affairs. Poor Ethel had heard that Brandon was dying, and it affected her greatly. She had implored her father, time after time, to let her go to the dying man and try to save him, but each time she had been refused. When grandma returned Ethel went to her and poured out her heart to her, and begged her to go to her father 184 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS, and try to get liim to relent. Slie told grandma that if she were not allowed to see Brandon, she would never liave an-, other happy moment in all her life. The old woman wag greatly moved, for she loved the girl as she had never loved any mortal in her life, and to see her in such suffering wrung her heart. She knew, that while General Lane had been good and kind about most things, still, when he was once convinced tiiat he was doing riglit, Heaven and eaith could not move him. For some time she did not have the heart to go to him. She was indignant with him for allowing the child to suffer so, and all on account of false pride. If he would allow ir, she herself would go with Ethel to the bedside of the dying man, and bring her safely back again. After thinking over rhe mat- ter for more than an hour, she made up her mind fully what to do. She would go to the old man and she would use every argument in Iier power to cause him to grant Ethel's wish ; and then if he refused, she would ieave his house and go to some town and hire herself out as a cook. She would not stay in the house with such a man, and see her child suffering so. She went to General Lane, and getting down upon her knees, begged that he might grant Ethel's wish. She told him how the child was suffering, and that Ethel thought by seeing Brandon she might save both his life and his soul ; and that if tliis wish were not granted her, it were possible that the poor thing would never have another day of peace. The old lady pleaded wonderfully, plead as she had never done be- fore. Had her own life been at stake, her words could not have been more eloquent than they were. When she was through the general answered her as he had answered Ethel : " No." And then she turned upon him like a panther whose young has been tortured. She turned upon him with anger in her voice and with anger in her eyes, and she told him plainly what a brute she tiiought him to kill his own child, and to tor- ment the little one who was more to her than her own life. She informed him further that she would leave his house that very day, and go somewhere and hire out as a servant ; that she would not stay in a house where her child was treated so. And still the old man remained unmoved. She went out and ordered the hired man to hitch up the spring- wagon, and to have it at the front gate within an hour. -Then she went to her room, and packed her trunk and old valise. She took down all her goods and chattels, some of which had not been moved in twenty years, and packed them up carefully. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 185 Soon the liired man came to tell hsr that the spring-wagon was waiting, and she ordered him to carry her things out to the gate. As he carried the last load she went out with him. She had made up her mind to go to Major Rankin's and spend the night, and then to go to Vicksburg on the morrow's train. She did not have the heart to tell Ethel good-bye. As siie was going down the front steps General Lane saw her, and getting his hat, marched to the gate just behind her. The day had advanced toward night, and the sun was just going down. The old lady stepped into the wagon without telling the old gentleman good-bye, and ordered the man to drive off. The general stopped them. " Wait a minute, Grandma, I have a word to say to you ! You have been living with me a long time now, and I don't want you to go away without saying one word to me. Won't you relent, and come back to us ? I am an old man now, and I could never get along without you ! " She turned and looked at him for the first time since she left liis room, and with a tone of determination in her voice she said : " Gineral Lane, I'll never return to your house till you grant poor Ethel her wish ! " That is all she said, but the general understood her. She had been living with him too long to doubt her meaning. She would do exactly as she said. And then the remembrance of all her kind acts to him and his family came over him and melted him. She had been too true to him through all the years to let her go thus. She had used the one argument that was potent to induce the old man to relent. " Well, Grandma, if you will take the child, and keep her with you all the time, and bring her back within two hours, she may go. It will do no good, it will only add to her sor- row. But you women folks are strange beings, you must have your way." And thus it was that grandma won. Her trunk and ralise were carried back to the house, she too returned, and in a few minutes Ethel was ready to accompany her to the bedside of the dying man. 186 A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. CHAPTER XXX. Twilight was approaching as grandma and Ethel left their home on their way to theMounds,and as they reached Cypress Bayou swamp night had come on, and there was just enough light from the stars and the rising moon to show them the way. As they drove off from the gate, Nep, Ethel's Newfoundland dog, jumped out and followed them. With the instinct of his race he seemed to know that his mistress was in distress, and tliat he must stay near her in her grief. It was a dreary ride for our friends as they passed througli the swamp. The great trees were covered with Spanish moss, and their shadows fell in a weird manner across the way. Just beyond Cypress Bayou bridge a deer sprang across the road, and Nep chased it for a moment, then returned to the wagon again. The night was insufferably hot, and the musquitoes were out in swarms. But none of these things were noticed by poor Ethel ; she was thinking of her meeting with Brandon, and wondering if it would do any good. By and by, the spring-wagon passed out of the swamp, and ill two minutes more was at the Mounds. A low light was burning in the doctor's office, and when they alighted the attending physician came out to meet them. When told the object of their visit, he informed them that there was no pos- sible objection to Ethel's seeing Brandon; that, in fact, it might probably result in good. I went in first to prepare the sick man for his visitors, and told him in simple words what we desired. " Ah, Crabtrie," replied he, " so the little thing has come to see me ? That is good of her ! Let her come in." Then I called grandma and Ethel into the room, where I remained with them, for I knew that what they had to say I was welcome to hear. In her childish, simple way, Ethel begged the dying man to take the medicine that would save his life. She begged him to live so that he might amend his ways and save his soul. She told liim, as I had done, that there could be no possible wrong for him to avail himself of a remedy now, which he had refused to another when he thought it would do no good. Her words were wonderful in their eloquence. She would never have plead for her own life as she was pleading for Brandon's. She A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 187 said naught of her own love and suffering; she did not reproach him in the least. She had forgotten all about herself, and was thinking only of the dying man. She had thrown herself on the floor at his bedside, and when she had used her last argu- ment to move him, Brandon took her little hand in his, just as he would have done a little child's, and said : " Ethel, little one, it can never be as you wish ! If I were to take the medicine you ask me to take, and then get well, my whole after life would be a living reproach to me. I would see written on the sky and in the air, 'Man, thou refused others their lives, and saved your own life by means you denied them ! ' It would be a living hell to me, and by and by, Ethel, you, too, would learn to loath me. It is best to die now when you think me a hero. It is best to sacrifice my life, and thus become true once more. No, little one, wliat you ask me can never happen ! I would become a coward if I granted it ! That I can never be!" She took his last words for her doom. She had found her hero and loved him as only a young girl could ; and now he was dying before her eyes, and all because he was so brave. She entreated no longer, her heart had failed hei-, she crouched upon tlie floor. Nep, her faithful dog, knowing that she was in distress, crawled up near to her, and began licking her hands, as if he would ease her suffering if he could. She threw her arms around his neck, and the 'remembrance of her childhood's days came flooding in upon her. " Ah, old Nep, my friend, he's dying, and we cannot save him ! You remember, old dog, that I used to tell you that when I found my hero, I must love him so much that were he drowning out in the great river and I could not save him, it WOuld.be a joy to me to tlirow myself in, and drown there by his side? He's drowning, old Nep, and I cannot save him! What shall we do ? What shall we do ? " I whispered to grandma, that to allow her to remain longer would cause her but greater pain ; so the old lady and I led her gently from the room, and out to the spring-wagon again. Wliat her feelings were on her return trip, the reader can well imagine. I sat with Brandon till midnight, and duriiig that time his cheerfulness remained by him. Once he saw me sitting with my chin in my hands, and he asked if I had the toothache. He called me once to his be/lside, and when I came he wanted to know who I thought would do the courting for the neighbor- hood when he was gone. To me there was a deep pathos un- derlaying all his fun. Death was at the door, but the grim old 188 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. monster had not frightened my noble friend in the least. He was smiling in the very face of death ! At twelve o'clocli I was to be relieved by one of the young men of the neighborhood, and when that time arrived I made up my mind to return to General Lane's. I did not have the heart to stay and see my friend die. I had done everything for him I could, I had used every argument to cause him to take the medicine that would save his life. It had all been in vain ! I went up to the bed where he was lying, for he was still awake. I sat down on the bed beside him, took his hand in mine, and said: " Doc, old boy, I have done all that I could for you, and now I have come to tell you good-bye. I love you too much to stay here and see you die ! I cannot stand it ! Good-bye, old fellow, God bless you, good-bye ! " I felt his hand press mine slightly, and I heard him say: "Good-bye, Crabtrie, you have been a true friend to me. I have found out here in the last few hours that there is a life after this one. Don't fear, old boy, I am safe ! Don't forget me, Crabtrie, and try to cause my friends to think kindly of me. Good-bye, old fellow, good-bye! " I could stand it no longer, I put my hands to my eyes so as not to see him, and then rushed from the room. I reached General Lane's about one o'clock, and lay down upon the bed, and much against my expectations I soon fell into a sound sleep. When I awoke next morning the sunshine was flooding into my room, and standing there beside my bed was Grandma Gray holding a white cross of flowers that she and Ethel had jufst made. She said not a word, but when I saw the flowers, I knew, without asking, that our noble doctor was dead. A FRINGE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 189 CHAPTER XXXI. ' ' What remains of my story is told in but few words. It re- lates, for the most part, to John Selden, Jim Longley, Uncle Eli and little Dan. ,,,^ When the fall of 1881 arrived, Hero had grown into a jfiijl- sized mastiff dog, and was Dan's inseparable companion. His love and care for the dog soon won its affections, and you never saw the one without the other. Old Fightin' Jack had grown very old and stiff now, and his master seldom rode him, but kept him in the pasture, well watered and well fed. Hero had taken old Fightin' Jack's place as Dan's constant companion. At ten months old he weighed a hundred pounds, and Dan could ride upon his back with perfect ease. At times, the little boy would straighten himself out stiff and lie down upon the ground, and Hero would take him in his mouth and carry him a hun- dred yards or more. It gave me great pleasure to see them thus always together, and I often thought that if any danger ever threatened Dan, Hero would always be near him to pro- tect him even at the risk of his own life. He followed at his heels all day, and at night lie slept by his bedside. Dan had now approached his twelfth birthday, but he was small for his age. I found him very much the same dear child he had been to me in former days, and I felt as much love for him and interest in him as ever. Only, good sir I could not fail to see that old John Selden's teachings were having their effect upon him, and that soon, very soon, he would go the way his father had gone. I liad determined that there should be no further break between us, and I submitted quietly to the thing, determined to hold his boyish love as long as there was any left worth the having. Old John Selden had had quite a regard for me ever since I had helped nurse Dan through the yellow fever, and I often rode down to their house and spent a day or two. I was on my way there during the winter of 1881-82, and as I passed Uncle Eli's cabin, I espied the old man at the door, and stopped a moment to have a talk with him. After speak- ing of common-place matters for a few minutes, I changed tjji subject and asked about our little fi-iend. " Poeg Pan coine 4pwn to see vou often now, Uncle Eli ? 190 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. Are you still praying the Lord to save him from his father's teachings ? " " I sees him nearly ebery day, sar, as he's comin' an' goin' from Mr. Jim Longley's house. Once or twice a week he stops hare to gib' us poor folks som'tin' to eat. Ah, Mars Napoleon, he's an angel ob de Lord, an' de Lord will sabe him ! No, sar, I ain't stop prayin' yet. We hab ebnin' prars ebery ebnin', and ebery time we has 'em'we prays for Dan." " Uncle EH, you have more faith in the Lord than I have. I haven't had the heart to pray in years ! " I bade the old darkey good-bye, and rode on my way won ■ dering at his faitli, and thinking how long it would take for Dan to become his father over again. I had seen very little of Jim Longley since his wife's death. We were both avoiding each other as much as possible, for on my side I found but little pleasure in his society, and he knew he could borrow no money of me to buy morphine with. But this afternoon, as I was riding along, I suddenly turned a curve in the road, and came bolt upright before him. He did not try to aviod me ; in fact, we were face to face, before we knew it. I scarcely knew the man. His clothes were in rags, liis hair long and unkempt, his eyes wild and blood-shot. Aunt Emily was right when she said that he looked like a crazy man. In- deed, I soon found out that poor Jim had lost what little brains he once had. " Ah, it's you, is it, Crabtrie ? I haven't seen you in a long time now. I don't care much to see yon, sir, for you never have any money to lend me to buy morpliine with, and that is all I want now — that, and my revenge against old John Selden. But, Crabtrie, I rather like you. I have liked you ever since my wife died. Old John Selden killed her. He cheated me out of all my land, and she starved to death. She died of want, and I would have been dead too, but for Dan. He's fed me." Jim had caught hold of my bridle rein, and was leering up at me in the wildest way. I had nothing to answer him, and he soon continued : " Yes, Crabtrie, it was old John Selden who cheated me out of all my land and killed my wife and made me what I am, and I would have killed him long ago if it had not been for you. I don't want to kill him now, I just want to live to see him go down to ruin. I know it is coming as sure as I am liv- ing. He's been praying for the last twenty years for every- thing under the sun, and talking about the glory of Grod, and cheating everybody who has had anything to do with hini. A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 191 Well, sir, I have learnt his trick, and I have got to praying too ; but I never pray but for one thing, and that is that old Jolin Selden may go down to ruin, and that I may go down in the same boat with him, so that I may see his agony and taunt him with my ruin. It's coming, sir, as sure as you are alive, it's coming! " I jerked my bridle from his grasp and rode on, reflecting on how low the two vices of hate and morphine-eating could bring a human soul. It was the last time I ever met him face to face. The winter of 1881-82, as all our people know, was a phe- nomenal one. In fact, there was no winter to speak of, for the summer extended through all the winter months. Most flowers were in bloom in the yards at Christmas and during January, and in February the roses burst into full bloom, two months in advance of their usual time. As February advanced a grave apprehension entered the minds of tlie inhabitants of this section. The Mississippi River, which had been alike our pride and our dread, was un- usually high at Vicksburg ; and what made the outlook more alarming, the upper rivers were- all full, and still rising. The warm winter had melted the snow before the proper time, and the waters were rushing down upon us with the maddest fury. Much of the rain-fall from more than half our continent had to pass within the mile that lay between John Selden's house and the Vicksburg hills, and now that it had all been forced down upon us at once, there was danger threatening us from all sides. The lands of our parish are low and level, and just on the other side of the river are the Vicksburg hills; so if more water came than could -pass through the mile of channel, it must go over our homes. At that time we had no regular Levee Board to take care of the levees, and they were in a bad state indeed ; but when our people saw the danger that was threatening them, they went to work with all their might and main to prevent it. It was too late to ask help from the Federal Government, so the State did what it could, and the neighboring planters united to strengthen the levees as much as possible. During the latter part of February, and during the month of March, men worked as men can only work when their homes and lives are at stake. At times the women and children joined them in their labors when the danger threat- ened most. General Lane had a large force of hands at work, night and day, along his front, and lower down John Selden had almost as many working upon hjs line of levee, It was a 192 A PEINCE OF GOOD FELLOAVS. time of dread and apprehension with us all. Men and women scarcely slept at night, for fear that while they slept they might be washed away, for only a narrow strip of levee stood between them and the raging flood. The level of the river stood six feet above the surrounding land, and let it but once break through, and there would be a mad rush of waters that would carry all before it. If the reader will take a large map of Mississippi and Louis- iana, and look first for the city of Vicksburg ; and tlien having found it, cast his eye just across from that city into Louisiana ; he will see a narrow peninsula, on every side of whicli, except due west, the river flows. It was on the outmost point of this peninsula that John Selden's plantation was situated, while at its base the large estate of General Lane was located. Selden's lands were lower than the general's, and therefore in most danger. Men worked on till about the middle of March, until one day the river came to a stand. Had it risen a foot more, all would have gone under. They worked a day longer, and then the levees were pronounced safe, if no more water came. No more was expected, for the upper rivers were all falling. But our people had all made one grand mistake in their calcula- tions. For two weeks the waters of the Mississippi River had been emptying into the Yazoo swamp just above us, and this great mass had to come back into tlie Mississippi again just three miles above John Selden's house. He did not know the true state of affairs ; in fact, what seems strangest of all, none of our planters had calculated on this additional danger. On the morning of the eighteenth of March, John Selden quit work on his levee, thinking it was perfectly safe. After dinner he set all of his hands to working in the field. They were plowing there and knocking stalks through most of the afternoon, and as they worked they sang. Joyfully, triumph- antly their songs rang out over the land, for was not all their danger passed, and safety once more surrounding them ? It was a glorious afternoon. The sun was shining brilliantly overhead, the mocking-birds were mating and dancing to each other, while the air was melodious with their songs. Joy was on the earth, joy was in the air, joy was everywhere. It looked very much as if the Golden Age had come again. Men had worked for weeks, night and day, to save their all, and now they thought they were perfectly safe. Old John Selden was jubilant in spirits. He had conquered everything. Not even the great river had stopped him in his money-making. He yia,s ovtt in the fields overseeing the work. Little Dan had A. PRINCE OF SOOD FELLOWS. 193 taken Hero with him, and had gone on down with Jim Long- ley's food. Everywhere there was golden sunsliine, and songs of birds and men, and promises of safety and protection. And while all this hope and cheer was entering into the hearts of our friends, there was a danger coming that was to be greater tlian any they had yet experienced. Men had stop- ped looking at the water guages the day before, since the river had come to a stand, and all the upper rivers were falling. That afternoon the waters of the Yazoo came pouring down. No one was noticing it ! They came stealtliily, like a thief in the night. The Mississippi rose ten inches in a few hours. No one observed it ! A cray-fish hole in the levee near Selden's liouse let the first water through. It was a mere little trick- ling stream at first. Then it grew wider and wider — then tliere was a great crash, and tiie levee front gave way, and the waters from the great river came rushing down upon us in one wild, mad rush of doom. Our friends — oh, our friends 1 where were they? CHAPTER XXXII. Dan had gone on down to Jim Longley's house with Jim's daily food. He was walking, and Hero was following at his heels. The glorious spring weather had a cheerful effect upon the little fellow, and he went whistling upon his way. By and by, he came to a patch of wild violets along the roadside, and he stopped and gathered a bouquet, with the intention of carry- ing them to old Aunt Dinah upon his return. He had no motiier nor sister nor sweetheart to carry such things to, his father would tlirow them away if he brouglit them to him, so old Aunt Dinah was the recipient of all the rare and beautiful things he found upon his trips over the plantation. She was not much of an amateur of floriculture, but anything that Dan might bring her always gave her pleasure, and this fact pleased the child also. By and by, he had gathered his bouquet, and passed on in the direction of the Longley cabin. Every now and then he would stop to pat and talk to Hero. Once in a while he would jump upon his back, and ride a short distance. They were two true friends playing in the golden afternoon sunshine. Soon he reached Jiin Longley's house and waited while Jim ate . his food. Aunt Dinah had prepared more to-day than usual, as a thanksgiving offering on account of the supposed 13 194 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. subsiding of the waters ; and when Jim was through, there was still something left that Jim did not care for, so Dan de- cided to give it to old Uncle Eli. It was but a few minutes' walk from Jim Longley's house to the cabin of the two old darkies, and Dan had soon passed over the distance. He found Uncle Eli in the house trying to spell out a chapter in the Bible, while old Aunt Emily had gone up to sell some butter to Grandma Gray. The old man's face brightened when he saw the little boy, and he took the food and put it away in the safe to save till old Aunt Emily should come back to help him eat it. Then he took the child upon his lap, and again taking up the Bible, he asked him to read some to him ; for Dan could read without having to spell as many words as old Uncle Eli did, and the old man often availed himself of this privi- lege when his little friend passed that way. Dan opened the book, (it was an old copy of the New Testament), and began to read the first chapter that met his eye. It happened to be the fourteenth chapter of St. John, the same one I read to Mrs. Brewster in her grief. A streak of golden sunshine fell athwart the two, and Dan's sweet, childish voice was soon heard reading. " ' Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in God be- lieve also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.' " He read on, stopping, now and then, to spell the difiicult words, until at length he came to the 27th verse : '" Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.' " And as Dan read this verse they heard a wild, roaring noise approaching the cabin. They both sprang up and ran to the window. It was the rushing flood coming down upon them. Uncle Eli jumped upon the table and pulled the boy up after him. Hero, hear- ing the noise, ran to the door and looked out, and when he saw what was coming he came back and took his stand by Dan. He saw the oncoming danger and he knew well what his duty was. The water was a mile off when they first saw it, and it look- ed like a great wall sweeping down upon them. It was com- ing at rapid speed, and took but a few minutes to reach them. Dan clung close to Uncle Eli and began to cry. " Don't cry. Mars Dan," said the old man in a tremulous voice, " think ob A PKINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 195 de arms of de Lord, dey will sabe you 1 Don't look at de waters, but trust in de arms ob de Lord ! " The old darkey had scarcely said it when the flood struck the cabin and wrenched it from the ground, and then they went whirling along with the waves. Soon a large gum log floated along- side the cabin, and the room began to creak, and the logs to give way. Uncle Eli saw that there was now but one hope left them, so he got Dan out of the cabin on the large gum log, which floated just beside the window. He was not a mo- ment too soon, for just as they left the cabin it went to pieces, and the logs sank into the water. Hero, too, escaped through the window, but not soon enough to get upon the log with his friends. He looked around him, as soon as he got from the sinking house, to see where Dan was, and as he got sight of him and Uncle Eli floating down with the flood, he struck out swimming after them. He might have soon overtaken them in a moderate current, but the waters were rushing so rapidly tliat the dog found his task a herculean one. But he let nothing daunt him. He knew but one thing in the world, he loved but one thing in the world, and as long as that being was in danger, his own life was nothing. So with dauntless courage he swam after his little master, determined to save him, or to lose his own life in the attempt. When Uncle Eli got Dan upon the gum log he made a dis- covery. There was one place there of almost perfect safety. It was where a smaller limb grew out of the larger trunk, thus making a place of security wliich resembled a cradle in shape. But it was large enough for only one. Uncle EH put Dan in this place of safety, then took the shirt off his own back, tore it into strips, and tied him to the smaller limb. So long as the log floated Dan was safe. And then when this was done the old man took his position at Dan's back, with his face looking down the stream. His own place was one of danger, for any great disturbance would throw him off. But he was thinking not of this. He had done his duty by his little friend, and lie was thinking only of him. He was thinking of how he had often said, that he might die for the little fellow, and that now his prophecy was well-nigh fulfilled. All this time they were rushing madly along with the tide, with Hero following in their wake. The waters were carrying them square across the peninsula, and would soon bring them out into the great river again. The peninsula was but six miles wide, and at the rate they were going they would soon pass over that extent of land. Dan looked over toward the Vicksburg hills. He could see the peaceful homes resting upon, 196 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. the green hillsides there. He could see happy children return- ing from school and playing, along the way. He thought he could hear them laughing as they played. By and by, a tiny bird, becoming frightened by the rushing waters, And finding nowhere else to light, came and lighted upon the small limb near Dan, and soon began to chirp in a quivering, frightened way. Every now and then Dan could see Hero's head abtfVe the waters, and hear the splash of his feet as he followed after them, and the boy would call out : " Here Hero, here old boy ! " so as to keep the dog's courage up. And now twilight is coming on; The Vicksburg hills have grown faint in the distance. Ahead of them, a mile. or so oif, Uncle Eli sees a strange sight, and hears a wild noise. It is at that point where the waters which passed over the land are meeting again the waters of the river, and forming a whirl- pool, which is carrying everything tliat enters it around in a wild dance. They are steering straight toward this vortex. Dan's back is turned toward this dreadful sight, and he does not see it for some time after Uncle Eli has discovered it. He is calling to Hero and begging him to come on. And then at last Dan hears the wild rusliing of the whirlpool, and looks around and sees the_ dreadful sight. " Oh, what is it, Uncle Eli? "Where are we going? " cries he, stretching his arms out to the old man. "Don't look dat way. Mars Dan, don't look dat way, sar! Shut you eyes an' think ob de arms ob de Lord 1 " said old Uncle Eli, his own voice trembling with dread. " De Lord is eberywhar, chil', think ob de arms ob de Lord ! " The whirlpool is only a half mile off, and Dan is looking back for Hero, who has almost caught up now, and the boy is cheering him and calling to him to redouble his efforts. The brave old fellow is striking out as never dog swam before. His powerful breast is beating the waves like some leviathan of the deep. He will be upon that log before it reaches the whirl- pool, as sure as the stars are overhead. Look there, sir, what is it now ? Why, just ahead are the wild, rushing eddies not two hundred yards off, and the mastiff has reached the log. Dan holds out his hand to him, and with one bold spring Hero is up and by his master's side. Thank God for that ! The big dog grasps his teeth into the wood of the smaller limb, and puts his front feet firmly upon Dan's breast. Tlien there is a wild, mad rush, and the log, with its human cargo, goes into the whirlpool, and for a while nothing is felt or heard but the deafening whirl of the waters. And then, God be praised, the old gum log has proved too A PRINCE OF GOOD FELtOWS. 197 Stout for the whirlpool, and after whirling around two or three times, is cast out and goes upon its way down the river again ! When Dan saw that they were out of the whirlpool, and that most of the danger was past, he called out : " Uncle Eli, where are you. Uncle Eli ? " There was no answer. He put his arm out and felt behind him. There was nothing there. As tliey went through the whirlpool the old man was thrown from the log, and went down in the waves, and beneath the chaos of the waters, found at last, the arms of the Lord ! Dan looked up above him to his last friend, and there met the loving, faithful gaze of Hero. Oh, how homelike, how noble the good dog looked ! Hero saw that his time for action had come. When he tried to move Dan he felt he was tied to the log, - But Uncle Eli's rotten garments were nothing to his strength. Dan soon felt him tearing at the cords that bound hiih to the log. He saw that he was fast loosening them. There was no fear in his soul. He had full confidence in Hero's strength and in Hero's love. He had stood all his little strength could stand, and at the moment he felt Hero tearing loose the cords that bound him, he lost consciousness, and for several hours knew nothing of what was happening to him. John Selden was in the field overseeing his hands when he saw the flood copiing. Not far from him was a piece of an old levee that was left over from before the war, which was still standing^in a worn and dilapidated state. -He ran to this point as a place of safety, and mounted upon it just in time. In a moment more the waters surrounded it, and rushed by on every side of it, and there he stood trembling, and looking out upon the ruin of all his earthly goods. The levee was old and rotten and could not stand long. Unless some help soon came Selden w^ould go down into the waters. This help was destined to ar- rive, but from- the most unexpected quarter. Jim Longley was sitting in front of his cabin sunning him- self when he saw the waters coming. He had still sense enough left to know that he was in danger. There was an old ladder leaning against the side of his shanty, and he climbed up this and got upon the roof. The flood struck the house, carried the foundations from under it, and let the roof down into the water, where it divided, both sides floating like barges. Jim Longley was thrown from it as it fell, but he managed to climb back on one of the sides, and went whirling down with the waves. Soon he espied a rising piece of ground before him. It was' an old.piece of rotten levee. Then he saw a figure standing on 198 A pniNCE or cood fello'VS. it. He held his hand above his eyes so as to see the better, and recognized John Selden. The roof was steering straiglit for this point. By and by, it struck the levee, and for one minute lodged. In that moment Jim Longley held out his hand to his enemy and said : " I have come for you, my friend, come aboard with me ! We are bound upon a merry journey ! " John Selden looked at Jim's bloodshot eyes and crazy face, and hesitated a moment. Then he cast his eyes around the piece of levee that was fast crumbling beneath him, and saw that it was his only liope. " Come aboard, sir, come aboard ! There is no time to waste! Come aboard,, and let us start u|)on our journey !" He hesitated no longer, but took the proffered hand and sprang upon tlie roof. It whirled around at that moment, and went dashing on down the stream. And now the contrast between the two men was very marked. Jim stood bolt upriglit with his shoulders thrown square back. He had not shown so much spirit in years. His bosom swelled with pride. The thing be had been praying for had come at last. For some minutes he said not a word, but stood glaring upon his enemy like some wild beast. Selden stood croucli- ing upon the raft. Beneath were the relentless waters, beside him was the crazy man whom he had wronged. It was not an enviable position foi' any man. Jim's eyes began to burn wilder and wilder. His breath came faster and faster, and he said : " Alia, aha, it has come at last ! The thing I have been praying for has come at last ! Old John Selden, sir, I shall have my revenge this day!" For one moment he paused, gloating over his victim like a tiger over its prey, and then he continued : " It was you, sir, who brought me to my ruin. It was you, sir, who stole my lands. It was you, sir, who killed my wife and ruined my life. You thought it was fine fun to do it, and all the time you were praying and talking of the glory of God. I learned it fi-om you, sir. I, too, learned to pray; but I prayed but for one thing, I prayed that I might live to see you go down to luin, that I might go down in the same boat with you, and tliat I might see your agony and taunt you with my ruin. My prayer is answered ; my time has come ! " Old John Selden was crouching down closer and closer to the raft, and Jim was leering above him with his bloodshot A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 199 eyes, leering like some demon of hell. The other man dreaded him more than he did the flood. Then Jim proceeded : " Death is nothing to me, Tor I have nothing to lose ; hut you, sir, lose everything you hold dear ! What is your loss is my gain ; and since I can see your agony, and go down to doom with you, it is the happiest hour of all my life ! I have lived on hate — ^for years I have lived on hate, and this night I eat my food with unbounded relish. I have prayed to God, night and day, for this thing.' I have lived with this only hope in my soul. I knew it was coming ! I knew it was coming ! At one time I wanted to kill you myself, but I heard something say ' Wait, Jim, God will repay ! ' and I knew then it was cer- tain to come, and I no longer wanted to kill you. I just wanted to live until God would take vengeance. I just wanted to wait and live so that I might be near by when your doom came. And now it's coming ! At last it is coming ! " Jim paused a moment for breath. They were rushing down the flood at almost lightning speed. Again Jim continued : " You killed my wife, John Selden, you killed her as surely as if you had taken an axe and knocked her in the head ! She died of want and starvation, and all because you cheated us out of our lands. You killed her, sir, I say, and she- was once the loveliest and sweetest woman that ever lived. But I knew my revenge was coming ! It is almost here ! " -And then John Selden was heard to speak. They were the only words he uttered while upon the raft : " I wish to God, Jim," he said, " I had never bought your lands ! " Then they went whirling along with the flood, Jim taunting him with his ravings all the way. By and by, they both Iieard a great roaring noise ahead of them. By and by, their eyes caught sight of the whirlpool through which little Dan and Hero had gone but ten minutes before. When Jim Longley saw it he laughed. He burst into a wild demoniacal laugh that rang out over all the waters. " Where is your money now. Old Selden ? Where are all your lands? Our doom, sir, is just before us 1 Come, sir, let us meet our doom ! " He grasped old Selden by the hand and pulled him straight upright. For one minute they stood there hand in hand. At that moment the roof struck the whirlpool, and was torn into a thousand pieces, and the two went down 'together. They rose but once. They rose face to face, and saw each other, and each grasping out after some support, grasped the other, and in the very fiiailty of their support they both went down to 200 A PRINCE OF GOOD FKLLOWS.' death. It was near the spot that old Uncle Eli had found the arms of the Lord but a few minutes before. Let us trust that those same arms were still there, and that after the agony of the chaos of the rushing waters, they both found that sure sup- port, and that those arms bore them up into a better country. And now that they had become equally poor, let us hope that, in God's own time, they may find the only true riches — the riches of His wisdom and of His love. CHAPTER XXXIII. Up at General Lane's residence the waters had not proved so disastrous. Aunt Emily had just arrived with her butter, which grandma had taken back to the -pantry, and the general and, I were talking to the old colored woman about her cow and other prospects, when we heard the crash. The waters rushed by the house, but it was too high off the ground for them to enter it, and too strongly built for them to carry it away. So, after the first great mass had passed over, they subsided to a general level of from three to four feet in the yard, while further back in the fields the depth was from fifteen to twenty feet, for that portion of the plantation was much lower than the front. When it was discovered that Ethel, grandma, the general and I were all in the house, and that the building stood firm against the first heavy shock, there was great rejoicing in our midst. In fact, the general's plantation lay much higher than Selden's place, and there was but little damage done to either life or property. Then, when we found out that our own people were in safety, we remembered the fact that our neighbors further down were in greater danger than we, and as soon as the first rush of the waters subsided we went in search of them. The general kept a skiff in readiness on his back gallery, and in less than an hour after the break we had it lowered into the waters, and two men from the plantation rowed us down to Selden's place. We found the dwelling-house still standing, and old Aunt Dinah was there trembling with fright. She told us that both John Selden and little Dan had left the house late in the afternoon, and that she had seen and heard nothing of them since. At Aunt Dinah's information my heart sank within me, but for two hours we searched all over the planta- tation, looking for the lost ones. We found nothing, we saw nothing but the chaos of the walers, and heard the sad cry of dumb A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS.' 201 animals as they swam and waded around in great distress. After searching two hours in vain, we decided that nothing could be done that night, and started back home. As we approached Selden's front lands we saw old Fightin' Jack rush up to our skiff and look at us as if he were hunting for some one, then dash off in the waters braying in the most dis- consolate way. I knew whom it was the old mule was in search of, and my heart melted to him in his grief. When we reached home the general sent a colored man in a skiff over to Vicksburg with an order for a tug and barge to come over early the next morning, with which he hoped to save the stock and cattle that might be found in the waters and still alive. As for me, I decided to take the skiff and go down the river in search of little Dan. The next morning the tug and barge arrived, and the gen- eral .with fifteen men went out to rescue the suffering stock from the waters. I got the skiff and two negro men to row. me, went down the river, searched all day for my little friend, and as night came I returned to the general's with my courage all gone. That night, as we were sitting at the supper-table trying to eat, the general told us that he had been successful in rescuing all the stock and in carrying them to the Missis- sippi hills with one exception, and that was old Fightin' Jack. He said further that the old mule had rushed up to them, just as he had done the night before, as if he were looking for some one, and when he failed to find whom he was looking for he dashed off with a distressed bray, and no inducement of theirs could persuade him to leave the spot. " He's lookin' for somebody," said grandma, " old Fightin' Jack is a-lookin' for somebody who he will never find ! " I felt a dimness come over my eyes at her words, and I rushed from the room. That night, before lying down, I looked out of my window, and saw but one vast waste of waters — waters everywhere — the waters had come to stay. I Went to bed, but not to «leep. I could hear the general tossing and rolling in his bed in the next room, trying to get asleep. About twelve o'clock we were startled by the wild braying of a mule at the front gate. It was old Fightin' Jack come up our way hunting for some- body. Great God ! was he hunting for some one he would never find? For hours he splashed about the house, bellow- ing and braying in distress. The general stood it as long as he could. Then I heard him spring from liis bed and call his hired man, and when he came I heard the old man order him to get the rifle and kill the old mule. I was out of my bed 202 A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. like a flash, and without knocking, rushed into the general's room, where I found his lamp burning. " What is it, Crabtrie ? " said the old man. " I heard you tell your man to shoot old Fightin' Jack, and I have come to say, sir, that before he kills liim he's got to kill me first! If any man takes gun to kill that oldsnule, I shall kill Lim first, or my name is not Crabtrie ! " The general looked at me for a moment, marveling what I meant. He could see by my eyes that I meant what I said. " Crabtrie, you are a fool ! " said he. " Fool or no fool," answered 1, " no man shall kill old Fightin' Jack as long as I am alive ! Because his little mas-; ter is not here to protect him, I shall appoint myself his repre- sentative, and any man who kills him, kills him over the dead body of Napoleon Warrington Crabtrie ? " The general extended his hand to me, and said : " Ah, it's the little boy you were thinking of, Crabtrie. Forgive me, I had forgotten about him, or I should never have ordered the old mule to be killed. Now I take back my order, for the little fellow's sake." Next day I got the skiff and hunted all day for Dan, but to no purpose. We went miles down the river, but could hear nothing about him. The third day we went again, and that afternoon about three o'clock I returned to the general's with all hope' having forsaken me. I went up-stairs and lay down in the room just above tlie front gallery. I had been there an hour. I was thinking of but one thing. That was my little friend. I had no hope I would ever see him again in this world. I could hear grandma and the general talking on the front gallery. By and by, I heard a steamboat puffing up the river. Soon I saw her black puffs of smoke rising up into the air. I thought I heard cheering from that direction, and then I heard grandma call : " Come here, Gineral, they is landin' at our landin'. What big black thing is that on the deck that looks like a bear ? I believe they wants to put off a little boy ! " I did not wait to hear the general's answer. I had heard grandma, and that was enough. I sprang from my bed and rushed down just as I was. I rushed by grandma, and started down the steps, when the general grabbed me. " Hold, Crabtrie," he cried, " you will drown ! Wait, man, till we can have the skiff brought round, and we'll carry you out. The water between that boat and here is twenty feet deep." For lo ! good reader, I had seen something aboard of that A PRINCE OP GOOD FELLOWS. 203 boat that had made me forget all about the waters. It was the form of a little fellow that I loved very much, and beside him stood a mastiff dog. Who in all the wide world was it but Hero and little Dan ? When the skiff was brought round, and the general and I went out to the boat, we heard there a strange story about the dog having saved the little fellow, and having carried him to a house upon the Mississippi shore, where he was carefully nursed till he was well enough to be sent home again, -They had landed at Selden's landing, and finding no one there had come on up to General Lane's. They had taken Dan and Hero aboard down the river, and when I heard their story I knelt down upon the deck before them all, and taking Hero in my arms I hugged him. And as we left the steamer, with Dan and Hero, a shout went up that spread over all the waters till at last it echoed up into the Vicksburg hills. That afternoon Dan told us all about Hero's bravery, and how when he came to consciousness, he found himself in a warm bed among kind people, who told him that he was brought there all wet and senseless by the great black dog. They had nursed him till he was strong again, and then sent him home. Ah me, Hero had saved my little friend from the waters, and had brought him safely back again ! Could I ever repay liim for the. deed that he had done ? He did not seem to think that he had done aught that was wonderful, for while we were talking of his bravery, he lay down at Dan's feet, and went quietly to sleep. That night, when I told Dan that his father had not been heard from, he cried for awhile, for he had loved his father ; but by and by, he stopped his crying, and asked me if I had seen anything of old Fightin' Jack. Then I told liim all about the actions of the old mule during his absence, and we both agreed to start out next morning in search of him. So next morning we started out in search of old Jack, and came upon him near Selden's house. He recognized his little master at once, and followed us to the general's, where we go* him upon a mound, and thence into the flat-boat we had for the purpose. Then we took him over to the Vicksburg hills, but when we got him there, we found that he was not long for this world. He was old and stiff, and his exposure to the waters had ruined his hoofs, and when we put him on solid ground, he could no longer stand. I tried to persuade Dan to leave him to die upon the green hillside, but Dan said " No." He would stay with the old mule till the end. I went up town and got a veterinary surgeon and brought him down. He ex- amined old Jack, and his face darkened. " He can't live long," 204 A PRINCE or GOOD FELLOWS. he said to me, " but you may ease his pain a little by rubbing him with some of this ointment." Dan took the ointment and began rubbing his old friend. And then tlie passers-by above us along the out-lying streets of Vicksburg saw a sight they never saw before — they saw a member of the aristocratic Warrington family of Virginia down upon his kneeSj rubbing an old dying mule ; for in a moment I, too, was helping Dan rub old Fightin' Jack ! And after we had rubbed him for an hour or two, Dan sat down beside him, and took his old head in his lap. The end was very near. I saw old Jack look up into Dan's face with a beseeching look wliich only dumb animals, when they are dying, can give. That look said as plainly as day : " I am going, I know not where. You have taught me what love is, little master, and when an old mule learns that, he knows all that an old mule may ever know." And wlien he had given Dan this farewell look, I saw his hind legs kick out spasmodically. I saw a shudder run through him — and old Fightin' Jack had gone where the good mules go. "We buried him decently with the aid of the two men we had brought along, and then Dan and I went up to the Washington Hotel. The little fellow, true to his love, had done all he could for his friend before he left him. That very evening I received a letter which the general sent over to m'e by a man in a skiff, and the letter stated that I must draw tlie enclosed • check on the Vicksburg Bank, and take Dan with me to Virginia, as it would never do to bring him back till the waters went down. So we took the train next day, carrying Hero with us, and in due time landed at Salem, that beautiful little town of peace amid the mountains. There we found John and Frank War- rington, to whom I had telegraphed, at the train to meet us. Oh, how peaceful the blu3 motintains looked to me after the havoc of the flood ! What a joy it was to have'little Dan all to myself in this land of green hillsides, where it seemed that no danger could ever come ! It was arranged that I was to remain at Salem until the first of September, and the general kindly sent me the necessary means for our support. But my cup of joy was not yet full. It was filled to the very brim, one day in July, when I received a letter from General Lane, stating that he had just been ap- pointed little Dan's guardian by the court ; and that he, in his turn, now appointed me his tutor, with a salary of fifty dollars a month ; and that furthermore, I was to have charge of the little fellow's education, and of the child himself. Ye Gods ! my cup was full with ioy. A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 205 CHAPTER THE LAST. When one's story is finished there is only one thing for him to do, and that is to stop. My story is told, but like all the world, I have a few more words to say. Please come out with me, madame, on General Lane's front gallery ; and when we are^seated side by side, we shall have a little cliat together, and I shall tell you of what little remains to be told. Ah, the sun- shine is pleasant, is it not? And those mocking-birds out in the oaks are singing in royal fashion ! I have always loved to sit thus and have a little chat with my readers, but the critics told me that I must not interrupt my narrative to talk too much ; so I iiave put oflf all my private communications, this ■ time, till the narrative was weU-nigh finished, and we had come to the end. Now, have I not acted fairly by you, my friend ? Indeed ! What is yonr objection ? Tou say I have not given you one single marriage, and the very smallest amount of love-making imaginable. True, madame, but you forget that I have killed off almost half of my characters just to please you — I doubt if even Victor Hugo could have done better by you in that respect — and if you want marrying and love-making, just take a dime and go to the nearest book-stand. Such books are bought for that amount. Indeed, madame, I owe you an apol- ogy for the manner in which 1 have killed off my friends, and I feel quite penitent in regard to the matter. The truth is, I had a doctor for a hero, and of necessity had to give a great amount of mortality in the book ; then the story passed through the yellow fever of 1878 and the overflow of 1882,. and that added to the disaster ; so, after all, I have not overdrawn the death rate to any great degree. My misfortune, (if misfortune there be), lay in choosing such unhealthy times, and in this affair I have been as natural to life as death can ever be. No doubt I have sinned, (from the standpoint of art), in killing off so many of my characters, and I humbly get down upon my knees and beg your pardon for it ; but please to understand, madame, that I have sinned in such good company as William Shake- spearej Victor Hugo and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe — it is only in my sins I keep campany with them, for my virtues reach not near so high. But nowhere did I let the gloom fall too heavily upon you. 206 A PKINCET OF GOOD FELLOWS. If the clouds came down around us, I always threw in a hand- ful of sunshine to enliven the gloom ; and if I painted life full of sorrows, I simply drew it as all of us mortals have found it to be. Surely, madame, you will not condemn me for being truthful? And now, while we are sitting in the spring sunshine on General Lane's front gallery, let me tell you all that remains to be told of my story. For two years I had charge of Dan's education, and they were the happiest years of my life. I lived with him at the general's, and I had full power to form his mind as I wished. I taught him of the noble and great men of the world of thought, and of their lives, and of their works. I kept before his mind's eye the high worth of mind culture, and the nobil- ity of the scholar's life. Hb heard very little about making money in those years — he had enough, more than enough — and I taught him only the right use of money. Ah, they were happy years to me, and years in which Dan improved wonder- fully in body and in mind ! One day, about two years after I took charge of him, I missed one of my razors from its case, and peeping into Dan's room I actually caught him shaving. From that moment I lost my love for him, and going down to the general I inform- ed him that I would no longer be his teacher and that he must send him off to Virginia to schooi. For who can love a boy when h,e gets to shaving, save his sweetheart and his mother ? The general soon sent him to a fine boy's school at Peters- burg, and when he had been in that town three years, 1 tried to persuade him to send Dan to Harvai-d ; but he declined to act on my advice, and told me plainly that to a Virginian there was only one great school in the world, and that was the one that Thomas Jefferson established near Charlottesville, the University of Virginia — so Dan went there. I hear wonder- ful things of him through a Harvard friend of mine who is now a professor in that institution. He says that he has made all of his tickets up to this time, and will soon take the mas- ter's degree. Dan came home last summer for a T^hile, and would you believe it, actually patronized me ! He slapped me on the shoulder and called me " Crab." just as all the parish did. I started to quizzing him about Plautus, but I soon found lie knew more about the Latin comedian than I did myself; so I soon changed the subject for fear he, in his turn, might ask me some questions that I would find difiicult to answer. He took me aside one day and showed me a picture of a rosy-cheeked A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. 207 Virginia girl with the brightest of eyes, and he informed me that he hoped some day to make a Louisianian of her ; so •when a second edition of this novel appears, I shall write a full account of his marriage and tack it on the end, so that you shall have a marriage, madams, after all. And this is enough about Dan,' for the moment I caught him shaving, he was nothing more to me. Ethel is still unmarried, but do not think she is grieving over her early love. She has many beaux, as all heiresses have, but none of them have suited her exactly as yet. But I douht not, that some day some noble fellow will come along and win her heart and hand, though she declares that she is going to live an old maid, and be a second Grandma Gray to Dan Selden's children. And Grandma Gray ? Why, the good old soul is living yet, and is just as active in doing good and in giving calomel as ever she has been. She raises more and larger turkeys than anyone in the parish, and therefore gets very much of the society of N. Warrington Crabtrie. The Bankins are all living and prospering. Miss Fanny is still unmarried, and some people call her an old maid, for she is fast approaching thirty-five. If nobody else marries her soon, I am going down and propose to her myself ; and when she finds out that she can get no one else, I am pretty sure she will take me ; for Miss Fanny always did have a weakness for getting married, though, as yet, she has had but small prac- tice in tliat line. Her father has cleared up some back land lately, and has now about six hundred acres in his plantation. When the old folks are dead, that will leave Miss Fanny about two hundred acres for her portion ; and, what with her thrifty ways and my economy, I think we can get along pretty well on that. Some day I think I shall go down and interview her about it. I would go down to-day, but we have waited so long that there is no hurry about the matter. The old general is pretty much the same man as when we saw him last, only a few more gray liairs are in his head, and his step is a little less firm. I see him coming up the steps as I write. He comes near, and slaps me on the shoulder. " Ah, Crabtrie, old boy, still writing novels ? Don't forget one thing, sir ! Kill as many of your characters as you wish, but when you once bury them, keep them there. Remember Alphonso de Jones, and don't have them dancing around too soon after you bury them ! " He lights his cigar, and sits down to smoke. At my feet there is a mastiff dog. He is very old and stiff, now. It is Hero, our Hero of former days. Dan wanted to 208 A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS. take him to the university with him last fall, but I told him, as he well knew-, that the students of that institution, wliile extremely honorable about most things, had a habit of paint- ing all dogs a most abominable shade of royal purple, and that I could not consent to have Hero subjected to sucli mortifica- tion iri his old age. So he left him with, us, and the old dog does naught but lie in the golden sunshine. And now before closing I must tell you about that all-im- portant personage, N. Warrington Crabtrie. W«hy, madame, as you can wxll see, since you are sitting by me, I still keep my clothes as well brushed, and my shoes as nicely shined as of old. Sometimes I go up to Uncle George -Warrington's and spend a week. Sometimes I spend a few days with Major Rankin or some other friend, but I generally gravitate .back to General Lane's, for the eating is better tliere than anywhere else in the parish, and you can always find Crabtrie where the eating is best. Good-bye then, madame, since you must be going. Let me get my hat and see you out to the front gate, for I have a parting word for you: If you know any rich widow in your neighborhood, who has h. nice home and plenty of good eating, and who wants a husband from the celebrated Warrington family of Virginia, why jnst drop a postal card addressed to N. War- rington Crabtrie, Mound Station, La., telling me all about her. The postal will be sure to reach me, and if she has more land than Miss Fanny Rankin, I shall come over to see her ; and if I find her eating better than that at General Lane's, and if she is not too uglyj w'hy, we shall have another wedding to re- port in the second edition of this book. And, good madame, if you know any black-eyed little fellow, who, like Douglas, is " tender and true," and who reminds you of my little Dan, why, please, ma'am, kiss him for me, for I am a lone old bache- lor, passed fifty, with no little ones of my own to caress. And now N. Warrington Crabtrie must leave this lower world and mount up into the spheres of Fidtion-land. You have all seen Gretchen, in Faust, how lovely the angels carry her up ? Well, just imagine four angels, with brass wings, each at the corner of old Crabtrie, lifting him up into the celestial blue, while off in the distance a negro brass band is playing dolefully. I liave no fear of my reception in Hero-land. I keep my shoes too well shined ever to meet with public disre- spect, and I am drawn too. true to nature ever soon to be forgotten. And as I rise into the celestial ground, I extend my hand to you, madame, and bid you long life and Auf Weid-